ng
behind, was no doubt uppermost in their minds.

I looked upon the mountains we were just leaving until they were a
mere speck. I intended to perform one last service for Peru, for,
however much I had suffered, it was my boyhood's home, the only home I
had had since leaving my native shores.

We were a week making the voyage from Mollendo to Panama. The weather
was fine and the sea was smooth. I was in company with Hattie much of
the time. In her gentle way, she sought to dissuade me from the
perilous undertaking with the torpedo boat. But when I reminded her of
my duty to Peru she said no more. I could see, however, she was
pained at the thought.

The north bound steamer had gone when we arrived at Panama and the
Robinsons would have to wait ten days, which compelled them to stay at
the hotel in that sultry city.

After visiting the Peruvian consul, who had been notified of my
mission by his government, I learned that a Chilean cruiser was
watching the torpedo boat and it was decided to await a dark night
when we could escape from Panama harbor. Meantime I stopped at the
same hotel with the Robinsons. I made several trips around the bay to
test the speed of the boat and was satisfied we could outrun the
cruiser, but somehow I began to dread the venture. The full force of
this feeling dawned on me when I realized I was in love with Hattie.

The day was drawing near for their departure, when Hattie and I were
seated on the veranda of the hotel, looking out over the Pacific. The
afternoon wore away, the sun began to set in the dense blue haze of
the tropic ocean, the great cathedral bells pealed out the hour of
eight, the night birds screeched from out the palms, and still we sat
in the glow of the twilight, talking of our past and future.

The streets became silent and even some stars had faded from the skies
and the ceaseless roar of the surf beating upon the sands was music,
when she promised to be my wife.

[Illustration: FLIGHT OF THE TORPEDO BOAT. (Page 158)]

XIX.

DEATH SHIPS OF THE SEA.

A thick fog rose from the sea, as we stole away in the darkness with
the torpedo boat. We had no distinguishing lights and every sound was
muffled. Even the funnels were protected against the tell-tale sparks
of soft coal. The spume of the sea fell over our forward deck in
flecks, and the waves splashed at our bow. The harbor lights of Panama
shone in a glow of sickly yellow.

An officer stood by the hood