The line by which the torpedo was to be towed was two thousand feet long and was supported at intervals by little floats that were painted the color of the water. This gave me room to keep well clear of the “Aquidaban,” and I did not think Mello would see anything suspicious in an insignificant little towboat, under the British flag, running diagonally across his bow at a distance of a quarter of a mile. This was the only plan which gave promise of success, for it was impossible for an unknown craft of any kind to get close to the “Aquidaban” while she was at anchor, and there never has been any doubt in my mind that it would have worked perfectly but for the fact that Mello had full knowledge of our movements and our plans. Our operations had been conducted with such extreme secrecy that we had no suspicion that they were known to any one but Floriano and his most trusted advisers but, as a matter of fact, Mello’s spies in high places had kept him constantly advised as to what we were doing and when we intended to strike. To show his high regard for the foreign fleet of royalty he reported us to the British naval commander and we were captured in humiliating fashion, while the “Aquidaban” remained safely at her anchorage. Mello expected that I would be turned over to him and that he would have the satisfaction of ordering my execution, but in that he was disappointed.
My tug, in charge of a French engineer and four Brazilians, was sent down to me on the afternoon of September 25, and as soon as it was dark, with the torpedo covered with canvas on deck and twelve fifty-pound boxes of dynamite in the pilot house, we steamed around in Nictheroy Bay, hugging the shore all of the way. To have loaded the torpedo before we started on the necessarily hazardous trip would have been extremely dangerous, for any accidental pressure on one of its arms would have blown all of us to pieces. We anchored in the lee of the peninsular promontory, well out of sight of the rebel fleet, and as soon as it was daylight I unscrewed the manhole of the torpedo and proceeded to pack it full of dynamite. All of the men were either helping me or intently watching the novel proceeding, for we were not expecting visitors. I was just putting in the last box of the explosive when there was a shrill whistle and a launch from the “Sirius” swung alongside. The lieutenant in charge of our unbidden and most unwelcome guest jumped aboard of us and came aft before I could brush the dynamite from my arms.
“Who commands this craft?” he demanded.
“I do,” I replied.
“What are you doing with that flag up there?” pointing to the British ensign.
“That flag was there when I came aboard and took command,” which was true. Then, seeing that he thought I was trying to evade the question, I added: “I am flying it for protection from a pirate fleet, just as others are displaying it in Rio Bay and in the city. Your commanding officer has sanctioned that custom by his silence. I am an officer of the established Brazilian Government, obeying the orders of my superiors in Brazilian waters, and I claim the right to take advantage of that custom, if I care to do so, just as others have done and are doing.”
“I think the other cases are different from yours,” replied the lieutenant. “What is that?” pointing to the dynamite.
“Examine it for yourself.”
“It looks like dynamite.”
“Probably.”