moment it was lifted clear of the deck, there was a terrific explosion--
a mighty upheaval of the sea. A mountain of water shooting skyward,
mingled with fragments of the steamer and bodies of men. As the spars
and timbers dropped back into the sea, there floated on the surface but
splinters where a few seconds before the proud steamer had stood. The
Loa and her crew had been swept into eternity. It was then a cheer rang
out from the little gig far in under the shore. A bold, dangerous game
had been played and won.

The most emphatic orders were issued after the destruction of the Loa,
by the Chilean officers to their crews, to pick up nothing without the
utmost care and the most rigid examination. On an afternoon several days
after the above order had been issued, the Covodonga steamed slowly
along in bright, calm weather, on a cruise to the southward of Callao.
One of the crew sighted a pleasure row boat. The man reported it and the
Captain was about ordering the guns turned on it, when an officer
approached him and said:

"Let us examine it. We may learn something."

The Captain consented to the officer going off to the little boat; but
with repeated instructions to examine carefully before touching it. It
proved to be a beautifully built lady's pleasure boat that had broken
from its moorings and drifted seaward, a piece of frayed line still
hanging from her bow. She was painted white and gilded, elegantly
furnished with cushioned seats and handsomely ornamented. An open book
was found on one seat and a single oar rested on the bottom. The officer
carefully examined her, passed a boat hook underneath her and
concluded she was harmless. She was towed to the steamer and the Captain
assured that there was nothing suspicious about her.

"She will make a beautiful present for your wife," said the officer. The
Captain responded:

"If you are certain, send her aboard."

Lines were lowered and hooks fastened to the fairy craft. As they
tightened on the polished brass rings in her bow and stern, a deafening
roar told the fate of the Covodonga. She was cut completely in two and
only sixty of her crew were picked up and saved.

The little boat had been made with a thin false bottom in which was
placed a quantity of nitro-glycerine. The friction pins were connected
with the brass rings and the moment her weight was on them the pins were
pulled out and the explosive discharged.

It may be imagined tha