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.

For several days he noticed a Chilean who seemed to be some sort of an
official within the prison, watching him. One day this officer
carelessly passed near him and in a low voice asked if his name was
Delaport. Paul said