The exodus from Callao was none too soon. The day following the departure of the Pensacola, the Chilean ships steamed close in, and for forty-eight hours rained shot and shell into Callao. Houses were set on fire in many quarters, and had it not been for the non-combustible property of adobe, out of which nearly all buildings were constructed, the seaport would have been laid in ashes. As it was, some of the finest residences were riddled, and General Matajente learned with sorrow that the Dartmoor Row had been partly destroyed.

The castles, the Santa Rosa fort, the guns at Los BaÑos and those at La Punta, replied vigorously to the fire, striking the enemy repeatedly and ultimately driving them out of range. But the cruiser Angamos, armed with her powerful rifle, could stand out in the harbor where no shot could reach her, and throw shell after shell into the town. The screech of these missiles was heard night and day; it became horrible but familiar music, and men, yes even women, slept of nights while the projectiles were speeding on their way to give destruction and perhaps death at their journey’s end.

August, September, and October of 1880 passed, and no move to the north was made by the Chilean land forces. Envoys from the United States had arrived in Callao, and others had gone on to Chile. They came with proposals of arbitration and the expression of hope that peace would ultimately result. They came instructed to do all in their power to settle the difficulties between the republics, and they also told Chile that she must not demand territory from Peru as the price of peace. While these negotiations were pending aggressive operations ceased, and although the blockade of Callao was maintained, there were no bombardments.

But Chile resented interference by the United States, and particularly the insistence that no territory should be demanded from Peru. For years she had had eyes fixed on the rich nitrate beds of the TarapacÁ Province—the richest in the world, and finally the government of the southern republic announced that Peru and her ally, Bolivia, must yield this district or Chilean armies would march on Lima.

Protests were in vain. November brought the news that army corps were being mobilized in Valparaiso and in the captured city, Arica. Early in December came the information that three great divisions, numbering twenty-five thousand men in all, had embarked on transports and were sailing north. A week later a fleet of nearly fifty ships appeared off the Peruvian coast, a few miles south of Callao, and under cover of the guns of all the vessels of Chile’s navy, men-of war coming from the south and the others being withdrawn from blockade duty, this great force was landed.

Peru met the blow as best she could. Her army, which had deteriorated during the long inactivity, went into line with forebodings of disaster. The troops under the red, white, and red disputed every foot of ground between the capital and the sea, fighting fiercely at Chorillos, Miraflores, and San Juan, but they could not beat back the enemy; they were defeated and routed, and Christmas day saw the Chileans in Lima.

But the Peruvian army had not yet yielded, although the enemy had taken possession of the capital; the troops had withdrawn to the north, and from there they continued to wage war. Several attempts were made by the United States to bring about a peace, overtures to arbitrate were frequently advanced; but to all Chile turned a deaf ear, and insisted that the demands made in 1880, that the nitrate provinces be surrendered, must be met before the troops would be withdrawn.

For three years this desperate, one-sided struggle continued, and then Peru, compelled to purchase peace at any price or lose her individuality as a nation, made the best terms she could. Bolivia yielded all her rights on the seacoast, and Chile secured the port of Antofogasta forever. Peru yielded the province of TarapacÁ, and by the final treaty, signed in 1884, she gave to Chile for a term of years the provinces of Arica and Tacna, it being agreed that in 1893 a vote of the people should be taken, to determine to what power they wished ultimately to belong.

Thus the land of the Incas emerged from its second overwhelming defeat—the first at the hands of Pizarro’s forces; the second at the hands of the Chileans.