"Neither have any of my officers; nevertheless I must do so, for there is a government dry dock there, the only one on the west coast of South America capable of taking the _Olive Branch_. Whether they like it or not, I mean to have the ship repaired there." Early on the following morning the cruiser came in sight of the port of Talcahuano. Captain Brookes did not mince matters when dealing with the Chilian town; he promptly isolated it by interrupting telegraphic communication by means of the Z-rays, then falling in with a small trading brig he expressed his intention of compelling the master to pilot the _Olive Branch_ into harbour. "Mercy on me, señor, I dare not!" expostulated the terrified man. "The channel is mined; that is why my vessel was hove-to." "Are you certain of this?" demanded the captain, sternly. "Yes, señor." "Well, gentlemen, you hear what the man says," continued Captain Brookes, turning to his officers. "What do you say?" "We are willing to leave the matter entirely in your hands, sir," replied Lieutenant Sinclair, confidently. "That's what I expected," continued Captain Brookes. "And now, señor, go forward and take the helm, for be there one or fifty mines, I mean to enter dry dock before sunset. Mr. Palmer, clear away the submarine." [Illustration: chapter XII] CHAPTER XII THROUGH THE MINE FIELD AT the mention of the word "submarine" Gerald felt the blood surge to his temples. It was not the surprise of hearing that the _Olive Branch_ possessed one of these master craft that affected him; he was getting used to surprises. It was the glamour of the enterprise that thrilled him. For months past Gerald's ambition was to serve in the submarine flotilla. His name had been on the "roster" as a volunteer for the hazardous, yet attractive, service, but up to the time of his leaving the _Calder_ his hope in that direction had not been gratified. "May I accompany Mr. Palmer, sir?" he asked, bringing his hand to his forehead with professional smartness. "I think not," replied Captain Brookes. "This is a matter that requires skilled men." "Very good, sir." Gerald felt the disappointment keenly, but like a true Englishman he bore the refusal manfully. Not so with Stockton; his face showed unmistakable signs of relief when his chum had been thwarted in his desires to embark in a hazardous craft destined for a still more hazardous enterprise. The _Olive Branch_ was now within two miles of the entrance to the harbour. On either side of the narrow mouth were stone forts faced with earth, over which floated the Chilian flag--red, white, and blue, with a white star on the upper "canton" nearest the staff. Beyond were the Government works and the low stone houses of the town, while in the distance the snow-capped Andes reared their lofty peaks to a height of 14,000ft. "Do you think they'll open fire, Mr. Sinclair?" asked Captain Brookes, jerking his thumb in the direction of the forts.