age down to the waiting engineer:

"Full speed ahead!"

CHAPTER 20

Cartagena's slumber of centuries had been broken by nearly four years
of civil warfare. But on the day that the lookout in the abandoned
convent of Santa Candelaria, on the summit of La Popa, flashed the
message down into the old city that a steam yacht had appeared on the
northern horizon, she was preparing to sink back again into quiet
dreams. For peace was being concluded among the warring political
factions. The country lay devastated and blood-soaked; but the cause
of Christ had triumphed, and the Church still sat supreme in the
councils of Bogota. Cartagena was _en fete_; the last of the political
agitators would be executed on the morrow. And so the lookout's
message was received with indifference, even though he embellished it
with the comment that the boat must be privately owned, as no ships of
the regular lines were due to arrive that day.

Quietly the graceful craft swept down past Tierra Bomba and into the
Boca Chica, between the ancient forts of San Fernando and San Jose,
and came to anchor out in the beautiful harbor, a half mile from the
ancient gate of the clock. A few curious idlers along the shore
watched it and commented on its perfect lines. And the numerous
officials of the port lazily craned their necks at it, and yawningly
awaited the arrival of the skiff that was immediately lowered and
headed for the pier.

The tall American who stepped from the little boat and came at once to
them to show his papers, easily satisfied their curiosity, for many
tourists of the millionaire class dropped anchor in Cartagena's
wonderful harbor, and came ashore to wander among the decaying
mementos of her glorious past. And this boat was not a stranger to
these waters. On the yacht itself, as they glanced again toward it,
there was no sign of life. Even the diminishing volume of smoke that
rose from its funnels evidenced the owner's intention of spending some
time in that romantic spot.

From the dock, Hitt passed through the old gateway in the massive
wall, quickly crossed the _Plaza de Coches_, and lost himself in the
gay throngs that were entering upon the day's festivities.
Occasionally he dropped into wine shops and little stores, and
lingered about to catch stray bits of gossip. Then he slowly made his
way up past the Cathedral and into the _Plaza de Simon Bolivar_.

For a while, sitting on a bench in front of the equestrian s