mi amigo! Three days have gone since The Cortes and The Columbus passed Tlatonac with the transports to the north. It is three hundred miles to Acauhtzin, and those boats steam at the rate of twelve knots an hour——”
“True,” interrupted Jack, significantly; “but the transports do not.”
“That is so, Juan. Let us reckon accordingly. Steaming at the rate of twelve knots, the war-ships would probably reach Acauhtzin in twenty-five hours. Allowing for the slowness of the transports say thirty hours. In twenty-four hours they will be able to take in troops, provisions, horses and guns. That makes fifty-four hours. Steaming south to Tlatonac thirty hours. Eighty-four hours. To Janjalla from here it is a hundred miles—say twelve hours. In all ninety-six hours. Divide by twenty-four, that is exactly four days.”
“At that rate, the rebel ships cannot possibly reach Janjalla before to-morrow midnight. When do we leave here?”
“About three o’clock,” said Rafael, glancing at his watch. “The torpederas can knock out eighteen knots, but the full speed of The Iturbide is fifteen. We will reckon at that, so by leaving here at three can reach Janjalla long before midnight.”
“Bueno! We shall have a clear twenty-four hours in which to sink The Pizarro.”
“Twelve,” contradicted Rafael, captiously, “we must attack in the darkness. The less risk the better.”
“I don’t see that it makes much difference,” retorted Jack, grimly, “if The Pizarro can fight two torpedo boats and an armed cruiser she is a mighty clever ship. I look upon The Pizarro as lost.”
“So do I, Juan,” replied Rafael, with a sad expression flitting across his face, “she was my ship, you know. I am sorry that it falls to my lot to sink her.”
“Perhaps she will surrender.”
“Not while she is commanded by De Galvez. He was my first lieutenant, and is as obstinate as the devil. Dios! There is noon. We have not much time in which to make our adieux. Go up and see Dolores, mi amigo, but return by two o’clock.”
Jack gladly took advantage of the permission and had a long interview with Dolores, who wept bitterly at the idea of parting with him again. She was already low-spirited, through having comforted Eulalia, and now that her own lover was going away broke down entirely.
“Promise me you will take the greatest care of yourself, querido.”
“My dearest, I will ask Rafael to wrap me in cotton wool. But, indeed, cara, you need not fear. I will be as safe on board The Montezuma as in Tlatonac.”
“But you will be gone many days.”
“A week at the most. If we succeed in sinking The Pizarro we will steam north to meet the other war-ships, and try our luck with them.”
“I will pray for you, Juanito, and I will look after the beetles of Don Pedro.”
Jack burst out laughing at the incongruity of such coupling.
“Has Don Pedro asked you to look after that rubbish!”
“Yes, Juanito! I am to take the very greatest care. They are precious.”
“In the doctor’s eyes they are more precious than the opal. By the way, where is Peter?”
“He has said farewell, and departed with my uncle. Would I could come down to the boat, querido. But I dare not.”
“I never knew such particular people as the Tlatonacians,” muttered Jack, somewhat vexed. “Well, angelito, we must say good-bye here.”
“Will you take the opal for good fortune, Juan?”
“I? Take the opal? My dear Dolores, I would be frightened out of my life at carrying such a treasure with me. No! No! You keep the opal with yourself, and yourself in Tlatonac. Then will the good fortune of the city be assured. But I will take this ring.”
“Turquoise! rubies! pearls!” said Dolores, drawing it off her finger. “It was my mother’s, querido. Now it is yours.”
“A thousand thousand thanks, alma de mi alma!” replied Jack, slipping it on his little finger, “it will remind me ever of you. Rubies for your lips, pearls for your teeth, and—and——”
“Ah! and what for turquoise?” said Dolores, seeing he was rather nonplussed, “for my eyes?”
“No, those are black! Well, we will say turquoise for peace. The blue ray of the opal means peace. And now, good-bye, my dearest—my own one!”
“Adios, Juanito. My soul! My heart!”
Jack, not trusting himself to speak further, kissed her passionately, and hastily left the house. Fortunately, he met no one, much to his gratification, as he was too agitated to say a word. He went to his house, and put all his necessaries together, then, in company with Peter, went on board The Montezuma.
At three o’clock the forts saluted the squadron, and The Iturbide, followed by the torpederas, stood out to sea. The crowd on the beach watched the vessels until they were mere specks on the horizon, and then retreated within the walls, with loudly expressed hopes that they would return with the rebel ship in tow. The Tlatonacians expected much more than they were ever likely to obtain.
The three vessels stood out about ten miles from the coast, and steamed southward at no great speed, as Pedraza did not wish to fetch Janjalla until darkness had set in. As two warships and the transports had gone to Acauhtzin, it was probable that The Pizarro would be the only vessel left in the harbour, and vigilant watch would be kept on board, lest the torpederas should come on her unawares. The rebel commander knew perfectly well that the torpederas had arrived, and would soon be in chase of his ships; but he did not expect that they would be able to attack while the other war-ships were away. Still, it was probable The Pizarro would make good use of her search-lights, and Pedraza, wishing to come to close quarters unexpectedly, had to exercise the greatest care as they drew near the harbour.
Towards nine o’clock they were off the coast of Janjalla, and intense excitement prevailed on board all three vessels. The plan of attack had been settled at a general counsel on board The Iturbide before they left Tlatonac, and it was arranged as follows. The Iturbide was to steam silently into the harbour of Janjalla, followed by the torpederas, and come to close quarters with The Pizarro, if possible. Should she be discovered by the search-light of the latter, she was then to steam boldly ahead, and concentrate the attention of the rebels on herself. The Pizarro, thus being busy with the cruiser, would not notice the torpederas, which could then steal silently within five hundred yards, and launch a Whitehead or so. The result would be obvious.
The torpederas, with twin screws and powerful engines, manœuvred with wonderful rapidity, darting here and there in the darkness like black sharks. Both were armed with Hotchkiss guns and four Whitehead torpedo-tubes, while their strong search-lights protected them against the unexpected approach of an enemy. Painted a dark colour to escape notice, they could steal silently within striking distance of a vessel, and sink her with one of their deadly explosives. The only chance of safety for The Pizarro lay in her sighting them at a considerable distance, and keeping them at bay with her heavy guns; but as she would be fully taken up with The Iturbide, this would be difficult for her to do. Worst of all, she
