“Do so, then.”
That evening a meeting was held of those interested in the Bella mine—for so Captain Cisneros had insisted upon naming the property after he had learned the true story of the pincushion in Harvey’s pocket. It was decided that both Hope-Jones and Ferguson should go to New York, for the purpose of interesting capitalists; that Señor Cisneros should return to the interior, and that Mr. Dartmoor should attend to the company’s interests in Callao and Lima.
So it happened that when the last steamship sailed from Callao before the blockade commenced, Harvey waved an adieu from a small boat to the two young men with whom he had passed such adventurous times in the interior; and from another boat Captain Saunders and Carl fluttered handkerchiefs and were answered with love signals waved by Mrs. Saunders and Harold.
CHAPTER XV.
DARNING THE NEEDLE.
The darkest period in Peruvian history was the year 1880. Defeated on sea and on land, the nation had drawn its forces toward the centre and awaited a final struggle near historic Lima, the City of the Kings.
But the Chileans, triumphant, were in no haste to follow up the victories of Tarapacá, Tacna, Arica, and Point Angamos; they realized the enervating influences that always are at work in an army that is inactive and on the defensive; and although as early as January nothing hindered the northward movement of their land forces, they refrained from striking the decisive blow, and passed the time perfecting the transport service, increasing the efficiency of the troops and laying by stores of munitions of war.
The blockade of Callao, established toward the close of 1879, was maintained without interruption, and the harbor, which only two years before had been second only to San Francisco in commercial importance on the west coast of the Americas, became a drear waste of water, for not a vessel, of sail or steam, was permitted to enter, unless it might be an occasional war-ship of a neutral power; nor could any craft depart after the expiration of the forty-eight hours which the Chilean admiral had given as notification.
During those two days and two nights, craft of all description and flying flags of all nations prominent in the maritime world put to sea and sailed north or south, some laden, but the majority in ballast; and when the last one had departed and the enemy’s cordon was close drawn in the offing, the Bay of Callao reflected only one story—the death of commerce.
Where two hundred ships had swung at anchor, a Peruvian sloop or an abandoned bark rose sluggishly with the ground swell; where once was seen the men-of-war of the Peruvian navy, awaiting the word from Lima to dash south, now appeared only the wooden corvette Union, the obsolete coast defence monitor Atahuallpa, and the school-ship Maria Theresa; once there was constant danger of collision in the harbor, because of the press of small boats—cutters, gigs, and barges, propelled by oars; steam launches darting here and there, whistles blowing lustily; lighters moving slowly as long sweeps were pushed, and sailboats gliding with white wings outstretched,—now the appearance of even a rowboat caused conjecture.
Before Harvey’s departure for the interior, the bay had been a never ending source of delight to the three boys; indeed, it had appealed to all foreign residents, as well as to the natives, but to none more than to the members of the Callao Rowing Club, for the placid waters permitted their going some distance from the shore, even in the racing shells, and the trade wind not reaching the water near the beach line, and the surface not being ruffled, it was possible to feather the spoon oars by sliding them, even as is done on pond and river. After the blockade was established, Carl, Louis, and Harvey occasionally went out for spins; but the wide waste of harbor had little attraction, and they soon abandoned visits to the boat-house at Los Baños, preferring to take their recreation in the fields, on horseback, or in some of the games that had been introduced from the United States and England.