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.