Three days after this he received a message from his friends at Lima which caused him considerable alarm. It was to the effect that the Chileans were making a diligent search for him and to be very careful as there was yet no chance to get on a north bound vessel, every passenger being closely scrutinized and it would be impossible to cross the mountains.
Late one night, shortly after receiving the above message, he was awakened by a hammering at the door, he leaped out of bed to find the house surrounded by a squad of Chilean cavalry. The officer in command told him he was wanted at Lima and to prepare to accompany the squad at once. He was taken to the capitol and ushered into the presence of General Backadona.
"What is your name?" thundered the General, striking the table with his fist.
"I surrendered to you General," replied Boyton, "my name is Delaport."
"You were in the torpedo service?"
"Possibly; I held a commission from Don Nicholas de Pierola."
"But your name is Boyton and no one by that name held a commission."
Boyton neither affirmed or denied the charge, and the General ordered him to be confined in the quartelle with the other prisoners, where he was kept for some weeks while the victors were awaiting dispatches from Chile that would decide his fate and he could readily surmise what that would be.
Almost daily during his imprisonment he could hear the barbaric blare of the Chilean bugles outside the quartelle, the gates swing open and a party of Chilean soldiers enter. An officer would call the names of the prisoners wanted and surrounded by a firing party, the unfortunate wretches were marched out, followed by white robed priests who walked by their side administering words of consolation. With gay music, the prisoners were escorted to a convenient place for the execution, which was usually the back of some store or the front of a public building. The condemned were strapped on a plank, their feet resting on a step two feet from the ground. This was placed against a wall. Then followed a sharp order, a bright flash, the crack of rifles and the poor fellows were sent to their long home. After the execution the planks with the bodies on were placed on the death wagon to be unstrapped at the grave.
Paul expected every morning to hear his name called. Every time that fatal gate opened he thought it meant his farewell to earth, but strange to say, he became hardened and did not dread the summons. His friends on the outside worked like beavers for his release or escape. His belongings had been placed in the care of the railroad company and were safe; even the "children of the sea" having been brought up from Ancon.