A few days after this meeting with the President the revolution was declared, under conditions such as one would look for on the light opera stage but never in real life, not even in South America. On the evening of September fifth, Floriano went to the opera, accompanied by Mello, Soldanha and several other officers of the army and navy, and they all sat together in the presidential box. Mello and Soldanha excused themselves after the second act. They left their cloaks in the box and said they would be back in a few minutes. Knowing full well the reason for their departure and that they had no thought of returning, Floriano bowed them out with an ironical excess of politeness. Soldanha, who had not yet taken sides, though his sympathies were with the “rebellion” and he subsequently allied himself with it, retired to the naval school, on an island near the city, and Mello went on board his flagship, the “Aquidaban.” During the night he assembled his captains and impressively gave them their final orders, with the dramatic announcement that the standard of revolt would be hoisted at sunrise. His fleet, in addition to the flagship, consisted of the “Guanabara,” “Trajano,” and “Almirante Tamandate,” protected cruisers; the “Sete de Setembro,” a wooden barbette ship; the gunboat “Centaur,” and two river monitors. The protected cruiser “Republica,” whose officers had just decided to join the rest of the navy in the effort to compel the retirement of Floriano, was coming up from down the coast, and the “Riachuelo,” with which Mello had forced the abdication of Deodoro, was cruising in the Mediterranean. It was not an imposing fighting force but it was sufficient to give Mello command of the sea, while Floriano was in control of the forts and the land forces.
At daybreak Mello seized all of the government shipping in the bay and announced a blockade of Rio harbor. He then sent word to Floriano that if he did not abdicate, without naming his successor, by four o’clock that afternoon, the city would be bombarded. This threat was also communicated to the foreign ministers, evidently in the hope that they would try to persuade Floriano to step out, in the interests of peace, but they promptly protested to Mello against bombardment. Under any circumstances, they told him, unless he proposed to violate the international rules of warfare, he could not bombard until after formal notice of forty-eight hours, to allow the removal of neutrals and non-combatants.
Floriano’s reply was an emphatic refusal to abdicate, and, precisely at four o’clock, Mello answered it with one shell from a three-inch gun, which exploded near the American consulate and killed a foreigner. During the next week Mello fired forty or fifty shots into the city every day but they did little damage; the fact that they apparently were not aimed at any particular spot probably made no difference in the execution. Frequently he would send boats ashore for supplies, to which nobody paid any attention, and at four o’clock every afternoon the “Aquidaban” would steam solemnly over and engage in a comic opera duel with Fort Santa Cruz, which was located at the point of the harbor entrance opposite Sugar Loaf Hill. Mello’s shots invariably went clear over the fort or buried themselves in its walls, while the gunners at the fort could not have hit him if he had stood still for an hour, so no damage was done to either side. After about twenty shots the “Aquidaban” would return to her anchorage, slowly and with great dignity, and hostilities would be over until the next day at the same hour. This daily duel, which was the star act in the serio-comic programme, always drew a crowd to the water front. Business went on as usual throughout the “revolution,” which was regarded with amused interest rather than with fear.
Very soon after the firing of the first shot, Italian, English, German, Austrian, and Portuguese warships appeared at Rio, ostensibly to protect the rights of their citizens, but their prompt arrival, made possible only by the fact that they were cruising close at hand, which was in itself significant, and the attitude they assumed, made it plain to me that they were there under secret orders to aid in the restoration of Dom Pedro. Mello was not a rebel but a pirate, yet the commanders of these foreign ships, all representing monarchies, gave him their moral support, and I have always believed that only the belated arrival of an American naval force prevented them from giving him their active support as well. Their influence was so strong that when Rear Admiral Oscar F. Stanton, of the United States Navy, finally reached Rio, he made the inexcusable mistake of saluting Mello. For this he was speedily recalled, Rear Admiral Gherardi being sent down to succeed him. Stanton’s excuse was that he wished to maintain a neutral position, but no question of neutrality was involved. I know that several of the American naval officers who arrived later shared my view that Mello was a pirate and should have been blown out of the water by the combined fleets. It was evident, from the prompt recall of Stanton, that the Navy Department at Washington held the same opinion but had not sufficient courage in its convictions to order the suppression of Mello. The ranking officer of the combined fleets was the Italian Vice Admiral, Magnani. The senior British officer present was Captain Lang, of the “Sirius.” Until the arrival of an officer of flag rank Captain Henry F. Picking, of the “Charleston,” was the senior officer present of the American Navy, and next to him was Captain (now Rear Admiral, retired) Silas W. Terry, on the “Newark.”
About a week after the firing of the first shot I was on my way to the water front to witness the regular afternoon duel between the “Aquidaban” and Fort Santa Cruz, when I was overtaken by a government carriage, and Col. Pimental, whom I knew well, asked me to get in with him as he had orders for me from Floriano. He drove along the shore of the bay to a new galvanized building, at a point some distance beyond the island of the naval school and near the railway machine shops. On the way he explained that this building had been erected for my use and in it I was to construct, as rapidly as possible, a large torpedo with which to destroy the “Aquidaban.” I was to have whatever I called for, but, from the time work was begun on the torpedo until it was finished, I was to allow no one to enter or leave the building, for fear that word of what was being done should get to Mello’s spies. The structure was of ample size and had comfortable living accommodations for ten men, which was as many as I could use. I took up my quarters in the building at once and after drawing on the master mechanic of the railroad for a lot of copper plates and such other supplies as I would need, got right to work.
Late that evening I heard the rumble of a carriage outside and a moment later in walked Floriano, with an old gray shawl around his shoulders, the Secretary of the Treasury, the Secretary of Marine, and a Senator. Floriano inquired first as to my comfort and I assured him that I was entirely satisfied. Then he said: “I am relying on you, Colonel Boynton, to save Brazil from further trouble by destroying the ‘Aquidaban.’ You will have to make and use your torpedo, with such help as we can give you. Now that you know what you are to do, what is your price?”
I told him I would expect to be paid the appraised value of the ship if I sank her or put her out of commission. After consulting with the others Floriano agreed to my terms; but to prevent future argument we fixed the value of the ship at six hundred thousand dollars gold and a contract along these lines was drawn up and signed the next day.
The torpedo which I built for this business was the largest I had ever made. It was twelve feet long and four feet in diameter in the middle, and carried more than five hundred pounds of dynamite, for I wanted to be certain that the ship would be at least disabled by her contact with it. I paid the most careful attention to the mechanism and, to prevent the possibility of a miss-fire, arranged a double detonating apparatus which would explode the main charge when either one of the projecting arms was forced backward by pressing against the hull of the ship. With the completion of the torpedo, which it took us ten days to build, I tested it with five hundred and fifty pounds of iron and found that I had calculated the air chamber support to precisely the proper point, for it floated just below the surface of the water. Floriano came down to witness the final test, after a few leaks, developed by the first one, had been closed, and handed me a commission as Colonel in the Brazilian Army. He approved the plan of campaign which I had mapped out and said the necessary orders would be issued at once.
“I believe you will succeed,” were his parting words. “I hope you will come back as General Boynton.”
To the south of Rio Bay, which is the main harbor, and within the city itself, lies the little Bay of Botafogo, round like an apple and with a narrow entrance. On the north side of the harbor and cut off from it by a long, low peninsula which ends in a high promontory, is Nictheroy Bay. This peninsula, which is so low for a considerable distance back of its terminating eminence that it is covered by water at high tide, when it is crossed by a bridge, lies west of the Fort of Santa Cruz. Mello’s fleet was anchored off the peninsula, on the opposite side of the harbor from the city. While Mello had seized all of the government vessels in the harbor there were a few tugs left, which, to prevent his interference, were flying the British flag, on the pretence that they were owned by Englishmen. I was to be given one of these tugs and my plan was to steal around into Nictheroy Bay at night and anchor close under the hill at the end of the peninsula, where I would be hidden from the rebel fleet. In the morning I would load the torpedo and wait for the daily exchange of cannon courtesies between the “Aquidaban” and the fort. An officer at Santa Cruz was to signal me when Mello left his anchorage and then, towing the submerged torpedo by a wire rope too small to be detected, I would steam out from behind the sheltering promontory and head for Botafogo Bay. This would carry me directly across the course of the “Aquidaban,” which would pick up the towing line on her bow, drag the torpedo alongside of her, and, as I expected and hoped, be destroyed by the explosion which would ensue when one of its long arms came in contact with her hull.