CHAPTER XXXII
The Fence Impregnable
During the next fortnight, events moved rapidly.
The new Government of Rioguay expressed its willingness to submit at discretion to the British arms and craved the clemency of the victors.
The terms were similar to those offered to San Antonio. All fortified posts in the republic were to be dismantled, together with armed ships-of-war and those of the flying-boats that had previously escaped capture. An indemnity of £6,000,000, payable either in negotiable bonds or in natural products of the republic, was demanded, to be delivered in instalments extending over five years. Until the indemnity was paid, a naval force was to remain at San Antonio, its upkeep being guaranteed by the Rioguayan Government.
Almost at the same time that the treaty was signed, Great Britain was able to mediate between the Associated Republic and the Empire of Hondo. It was a ticklish business—calming down the fierce little Asiatics without ruffling their amour-propre. They had beaten the Associated Republic. The latter's navy was practically wiped out, and the teeming millions of the Union were absolutely helpless. They could raise a huge army, but to what purpose? Possessing sea-power, Hondo, separated from her foe by the width of the Pacific, could and did defy the armed might of her antagonist.
Vainly the Associated Republic proposed arbitration, but arbitration is no good when an enemy is hammering, and hammering very forcibly, at one's gate. And the Asiatics still remembered with bitterness that the fruits of victory in times past had been taken from them by certain European Powers whom they could now ignore with impunity.
Even had she wished, Great Britain could not have intervened with armed force against Hondo on behalf of the Associated Republic. For one thing, she had not a sufficient fleet to operate with any likelihood of success in the distant Pacific. For another, Great Britain had no desire to make war, either on Hondo or any other nation, without good and just cause; and in the present instance there was none.
Now that the war clouds had dispersed, Lieutenant Peter Corbold began to ponder over his position. Taken back into the Royal Navy owing to the Rioguayan war, he was now faced with the possibility of having to "go on the beach" once more. It was not for pecuniary reasons that the prospect worried him. Apart from his share in the award by the Government for the "Strong anti-aircraft ray apparatus", he knew that, if necessity arose, he could exploit the Rioguayan diamond mine that Uncle Brian and he had discovered.
He was a sailor by inclination and instinct. The call of the Five Oceans was irresistible. The sea with its changing moods was an attraction that would never pall. And under the White Ensign, a life afloat was at its very best. It was bad enough, Peter reflected, to have been chucked out of the navy once. To have to repeat the experience was almost unbearable.
Following the signing of peace between Great Britain and Rioguay, the Rebound, Repulse, and Retrench, together with a number of light cruisers and destroyers, were ordered home. The Royal Oak was to remain for the present as Flagship to the South American squadron with its base at San Antonio.
On the afternoon prior to the day fixed for the departure of the homeward-bound warships, Peter was again ordered by signal to report on board the Royal Oak.
"That means a telling off," he remarked to Cavendish. "I'm going to get it hot over that Don Ramon business."
"'Fraid so," agreed Cavendish. "To tell the truth, old thing, I wonder you weren't on the carpet long before this. Don't suppose I can do much, but if you want me to back you up, I'm only too willing."
Peter shook his head.
"Best keep out of it," he replied. "The Admiral can't do much, considering I'm due to get slung out any old way."
But Peter Corbold was woefully adrift. The Admiral received him quite cordially.
"My flag-lieutenant has received his promotion," he announced. "I'm looking out for someone I can recommend for the billet, someone with a good knowledge of the Rioguayan language. You, I think, Mr. Corbold, will suit me."
"But I'm holding a temporary commission, sir," explained Peter.
"Rubbish!" declared the Admiral breezily. "There'll be no officer sacked on reduction. You can take my word for that. The Admiralty will want every trained officer they can lay their hands on with this expansion of the navy stunt coming on. Now, then, what do you say? Shall I send your name forward for appointment? Matter of form only, of course."
"Thanks awfully, sir," mumbled Peter. He was too taken aback to answer coherently. Usually cool and self-possessed, his sudden stroke of good luck had metaphorically taken the wind out of his sails.
"Very good, then," continued the Admiral. "We'll leave it at that for the present. Maynebrace, my flag-lieutenant, won't be turning over for a bit, so carry on on board the Rebound. When you get home, take a month's leave. The Stylex is ordered to this station on the 25th of next month: you'd better come out in her.... Oh, by the by, you brought off some refugees, I understand?"
"Yes, sir," admitted Peter.
"Glad you did," resumed the Commander-in-Chief. "The President wrote me requesting that I should give them up. I told him pretty plainly that it's not wise for the under-dog to kick, and that the refugees were political prisoners who had found a shelter under the British flag. The President can whistle for them. They're on their way to Jamaica by now. All right, Mr. Corbold, carry on."
Peter "carried on". With a light heart and feeling that he was treading on air (in his joy he very nearly did as he went over the side), he returned on board the Rebound, was told that he was a lucky dog, and on the strength of it had to stand champagne all round the ward-room.
At nine next morning, the three battleships, with the signal requesting permission to proceed, shortened in their cables. The answering flags fluttered from the yard-arm of the Royal Oak.
With bands playing and men lining the sides, the battle-scarred ships steamed slowly past the Flagship. Then, to the strain of ringing cheers, the Rebound and her consorts stood down the river, on their homeward voyage across the Atlantic.
Ten days later, the Rebound, her gaping wounds temporarily patched, steamed between the Round Tower and Blockhouse Fort, guarding the entrance to Portsmouth Harbour. Gosport Beach, Portsmouth Point, and Portsea Hard were black with people, who cheered to the echo the home-coming ship that had won credit and renown in the battle with the Rioguayan navy.
Then, with a powerful tug straining at her bow hawsers and another following discreetly astern, the Rebound glided slowly past the South Railway Jetty, and "opened out" the tapering masts of the veteran Victory.
Peter remembered the last occasion when he entered Portsmouth Harbour, and the comparison was a pleasant one. Then he was, as he imagined, going on the beach once and for all. Now he was safely re-embarked upon a career after his own heart. Then the huge slipway was bare. Now it was taken up with the keel-plates of a mammoth battleship—the first of Britain's new navy. The dockyard was teeming with life and activity. The ceaseless rattle of pneumatic tools once more filled the air. The huge electric cranes were again endowed with movement. Thousands of busy workmen swarmed everywhere.
Trade was already "following the Flag", as it had done in times past. Mercantile shipping was reviving steadily, without the deplorable prospect of a "boom" and its disastrous consequences. Iron and steel workers were getting into their stride; the coal industry was looking up. There was every indication of an era of peace and prosperity.
And the reason was not far to seek. Britain had at last a definite policy. No longer was she content to "toe the line" at the behest of a party of international politicians assembled at Washington. She was determined to regain her rightful position as Mistress of the Seas. Without acting harshly towards her weaker neighbours, anxious to keep peace on the principle of the "strong man armed", Britain was much in the position of a big and tolerant brother keeping his brothers and sisters in order.
As soon as the Rebound paid off, Peter Corbold journeyed up to town after a hurried but comprehensive visit to a Portsmouth firm of naval outfitters. At the Admiralty he obtained official confirmation of his appointment as Flag-lieutenant, and also obtained the information that Sir Brian Strong (with K.C.B. and a dozen other titles tacked on to his name), was living in retirement near Bournemouth.
That same evening, Peter went down to his uncle's house, a small, unassuming villa overlooking Poole Harbour. Although the hour was late, he found Uncle Brian in overalls, working in a laboratory that for area completely eclipsed the dwelling-house.
"You're wrong in your surmise, Peter," observed Sir Brian, during the course of conversation. "I'm paying a flying visit to Rioguay. I'll probably be out there before you. Yes, it's concerning the diamond valley. I've obtained a concession from the new President, and I've formed a Limited Company. You're one of the principal shareholders, Peter—but we'll go into that matter presently. So I'm just off to introduce the Works Manager to the place, although in point of fact I'm rather keen to see the scene of our exploit again."
Peter nodded.
"Wish you luck, Uncle," he said, "but thank goodness I'm not flying. Had quite enough of that; blue water's much safer. But it was a great stroke of yours—the rays invention."
"It was," agreed Sir Brian gravely. "But come this way."
He took his nephew to a corner of the laboratory where stood a simple yet ingenious device.
"That was my emergency gadget," he announced, after explaining the mechanism.
Peter looked at it long and anxiously. Then he turned to his uncle.
"Better sling it in the ditch before there's any harm done," he said seriously.
Sir Brian chuckled.
"That's exactly what I mean to do," he replied. "Give me a hand with the thing."
Together they carried the latest creation of Sir Brian's brain out of the laboratory down the sloping lawn to a small pier.
In the bright moonlight, Peter saw a small dinghy made fast to the steps. Into the stern-sheet of the boat the gadget was placed. Uncle Brian sat aft, while Peter cast off and took the oars.
It was now slack tide and first high water.
With steady stroke, Peter urged the dinghy along, while Sir Brian steered for the High Light at Sandbanks.
"This will do," he observed, when the white section changed to red. "Right in the middle of the channel. It's a good fifty feet down. Steady, Peter, mind the gunwale; it was varnished only yesterday.... Let go!"
With a sullen splash, the "box of tricks" disappeared from sight. Sir Brian sat gazing at the ever-increasing circles in the moonlit water.
He sat up with the air of a man who has taken a critical step and is well satisfied with the result. Then, in a barely audible voice, he quoted:
"Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas
Which He hath given for fence impregnable,
And with their helps only defend ourselves;
In them and in ourselves our safety lies."
PRINTED AND BOUND IN GREAT BRITAIN
By Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow
Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains a number of misprints.
The following misprints have been corrected:
[find out how Don Jose] —>
[find out how Don José]
["By Jove!" he almost shouted]
(Several other instances of "jove" have been corrected to "Jove" but are not further mentioned here)
[Señor Jaurez grinned]
[shooting trip up the Rio Guaya]
(There is a difference between the country-name and its river)
[S'pose it's all right,]
[s'pose the Tower of Babel]
[subsidiary]
[there were compensa- [162] tions.]
[knife-like bows]
[anti-aircraft gun, they]
[indispensability]
[the wreck of the fore-top]
[separating the ward-room]