Under the Chilian Flag: A Tale of War between Chili and Peru

by Harry Collingwood

At length it was done. There was a final rasp of the file, a little snapping noise, a sudden splash as the chain fell into two halves and disappeared below the surface, and the Janequeo dropped back in the water with a loud “squelching” noise.

But they were free! Free at last; though every man on board was trembling like a leaf in the wind under the stress that they had undergone. There was no time for delay, however. Many precious minutes had been lost, and there were all too few left in which to complete the work that had to be done. Jim passed the word once more for steam for five knots, the screw began to revolve, and the Janequeo stole forward again on her errand of destruction. Jim feared that there might be a second chain across the harbour, a little higher up, but the Peruvians had evidently considered the single barrier sufficient, for there were no more booms.

Now he could see the towering spars of two school hulks, and in a few minutes he passed slowly and silently by them, but without stopping. They were old and practically worthless hulks; he would destroy them after he had annihilated the ironclad monsters which were capable of doing efficient work.

With carelessness that amounted to fatuity there seemed to be no watch kept on board the ships, and there were no lights visible. All was as still and silent as the grave. The Union was the next craft in line; she was a gunboat, and had already shewn herself capable of stinging pretty severely, but he promised himself to attend to her on the return journey, and pushed on still farther up the harbour. The ships were apparently all lying on the Janequeo’s port side, so it became necessary to shift the bombs over. By the time that this was done Jim saw a dark, shapeless mass looming up in front of him, crowned by one short, squat funnel and one mast; and he knew that he was approaching either the Atahualpa or the Manco Capac, the two monitors which had done so much damage to the Chilian fleet.

Here at last was a foe worthy of attention, and Jim stopped his engines altogether, allowing the Janequeo to slide along through the water by her own momentum. It was a fortunate thing that he did so, for when the torpedo-boat was within twenty feet of the monitor she suddenly collided with a floating wooden boom which had been placed round the ironclad. The impact was very slight, however, and Jim presently had his little craft securely moored alongside. He then got overboard on to the boom, with half a dozen men, and, carrying the bomb gingerly in his arms, and followed by his men bearing one of the torpedo-spars, made his way round to that portion of the timber which floated opposite the ironclad’s stern. Jim meant to affix his torpedo to the ship’s stern-post, so that, if it did not actually sink her, it might at least blow away both rudder and propeller, and so render the ship useless.

Arrived at the stern, he saw that she was his old enemy, the Manco Capac, and he at once set to work. The men laid the spar down on the boom and pushed it out until one end was touching the Manco Capac’s stern-post, the other remaining on the boom. They then lashed the boom-end securely, and Jim, having slung the bomb round his shoulders, started to crawl out along the spar, while the Chilians sat on the other end to make it still more steady.

It would have been a perilous enough journey at any time, but in the dark and with a heavy weight slung round the shoulders it was trebly difficult. Furthermore, the place fairly swarmed with sharks, and Douglas knew what his fate would be should he lose his hold and fall into the water, even if he did not happen to be dragged to the bottom at once by the weight round his neck. Several times his knees or his hands slipped, making the spar quiver ominously, but, fortunately, he retained his hold on the pole, and at last, after many a narrow escape, arrived under the ironclad’s overhanging counter.

Here the worst part of his task was over, for he could now support himself by clinging to the rudder, and he soon found a large nut, close to the water’s edge, from which he could suspend the deadly torpedo. He quickly unslung it from round his shoulders, and presently had it lashed firmly in position against the curve of the Manco Capac’s counter, the lower edge of the bomb being just about a couple of inches clear of the water. He then fixed the fuse alongside the rudder-post, and after listening to hear whether any one was about, he struck a match and applied it to the loose end.

This being the first torpedo, he had cut a length of fuse to burn for two hours, so that he would have time to do all his work and get away before the first explosion occurred, but when the fuse was lighted it seemed to fizz away with alarming rapidity, and Jim was so startled that he nearly fell into the water.

“That fuse will never burn for two hours,” he told himself; “there must be something wrong with it, for at that rate it will not last thirty minutes.” He therefore made his second journey along the pole at the best speed of which he was capable, and in a couple of minutes was standing on the boom once more. The seven of them made short work of unlashing the spar and getting it back to the torpedo-boat, and the Janequeo was soon under way again and stealing up the harbour once more.