ACROSS THE EQUATOR WITH THE AMERICAN NAVY 



619 



stop. So they work in order to get the 

 five cents." 



It is eight miles from Callao, the sea- 

 port, to Lima, the capital of Peru, but the 

 sailors thought nothing of that. They 

 had been provided by the Navy Depart- 

 ment with concise little manuals, edited 

 with the cooperation of the National 

 Geographic Society, in which the things 

 worth seeing had been set forth, a plan 

 of the city given, and the monetary sys- 

 tem explained. Armed with these, the 

 men went where they pleased. 



There were 13,000 men on the vessels 

 of the fleet and most of them had several 

 days' liberty, yet not one unpleasant inci- 

 dent marred the visit. It is true that now 

 and then one met a sailor who was ir- 

 repressibly musical, and it is likely that 

 the masters-at-arms had occasion to put a 

 man or two in the "lucky bag" on each 

 ship. 



THE CONDUCT OF THE MEN OE THE FEKFT 

 INCREDIBLY GOOD 



But the conduct of the fleet was in- 

 credibly good. Pisco is a white whisky 

 which plays havoc with the unaccustomed, 

 but after one trial the gob let pisco alone. 



Every man gazed at Pizarro's bones 

 and most of them had a working version 

 of the Conquistador's life and achieve- 

 ments, and all seemed to know the story 

 of his death. 



"He'd a-killed all seven," one heard 

 them say, "only his sword got stuck in 

 the wishbone of one of 'em." 



They walked endless miles through 

 Lima's dusty streets and regarded open- 

 eyed the Indian women who jounced in 

 astraddle of little horses with milk-cans 

 slung over the saddle bows, and winked 

 harmlessly at the giggling girls who shel- 

 tered themselves behind iron grilles at the 

 second-story windows. 



At least every fourth man had a cam- 

 era and they bought picture postcards 

 tirelessly. All Peruvians smiled at them 

 in a comradely way and the Americans 

 were inspired to try their phrase-book 

 Spanish on their hosts. Often it worked, 

 too. 



In every cafe one saw little parties 

 about the round tables, laboriously work- 

 ing out an entente cordiale. Between 

 times they grinned at each other and 



made motions to the brown boys who 

 served drinks. 



THE GREAT EVENT OF THE VISIT — THE 

 BUEE EIGHT 



So far as the gobs were concerned, 

 however, the great event of the week was 

 the bull-fight. This was given by the 

 Peruvian Government in honor of the 

 American visitors, and Belmonte, who is 

 one of the most celebrated Spanish mata- 

 dors, played his spectacular part. 



It was a superb bull-fight, as bull- 

 fights go. The Lima ring is the largest 

 in the world and the bull has more of a 

 chance than he has elsewhere. The bulls 

 were savage and active, too, so that in the 

 very first fight an important section of 

 Belmonte's skin-tight breeches was torn 

 away and a red line appeared across his 

 white skin. 



The sailors gasped. It was more than 

 they had counted on, apparently. Then 

 a horse was gored, and from that moment 

 the sympathy of the sailors was definitely 

 against the men who took part in this 

 abhorrent torture. 



"Go it, bull," they cried whenever a 

 bull charged. "Go get him, bull." 



A little brown bull was the real hero of 

 the day, in spite of the gold-laced fighters 

 and the splendor of the spectacle and the 

 age-old ceremony with which the game of 

 butchering bulls and torturing horses was 

 carried out. 



This animal gave some evidence of a 

 reasoning faculty. He refused to charge 

 the blindfolded horses, although they 

 were wheeled broadside on to him by the 

 red-capped attendants, and the heavily 

 armored picadors yelled at him insult- 

 ingly. He paid no attention to the red 

 mantles that were flaunted in his face. 

 But when he charged — and he charged 

 freely — he went straight for the man who 

 waved the flag. 



In three minutes he had the ring 

 cleared. The expensive matadors were 

 sitting down behind the shelters smoking 

 cigarettes. The men with the banderillas 

 had climbed to the safety of the bal- 

 conies. The picadors were silent and the 

 poor old horses were asleep with their 

 chins resting on their knees. So the 

 door was opened and the little brown bull 

 went triumphantly out. 



