The shrill notes of a bugle interrupted Corbold's words. Instantly, every officer and man upon the Baffin's deck stiffened to attention, the white-helmeted marine detachment drawn up aft presenting arms with the regularity and precision of a well-oiled machine.
The light cruiser had entered Portsmouth Harbour and was now abreast the blackened ruins of what was once the semaphore tower. Ahead and on the starboard bow appeared three tapering masts above a block of yellow-bricked offices. At the mizzen-truck fluttered a white flag with a St. George's Cross. Quickly the rest of the vessel came into view—a comparatively small black-hulled ship with triple bands of white—lying, not riding to the tide, but in a dry dock, in which she is fated to remain as long as her planks and timbers hold together.
A few seconds later and again the bugle blares out—this time to "carry on". The Baffin, as does every vessel belonging to His Majesty's navy that passes that way, has paid her homage to the renowned Victory. Past the huge building slip—from which, until the Washington Conference left it untenanted and derelict, a ceaseless procession of noble battleships sped to make their first acquaintance with the ocean—the Baffin glided. Then, under port helm, she turned her lean bows towards the gigantic lock through which she must pass to gain her allotted berth. Ahead were warships of every size and condition; battle-scarred capital ships that had borne the brunt of Jutland, gigantic seaplane-carriers, battle cruisers, light cruisers, P-boats, destroyers, and submarines—forlorn, neglected, and condemned to the scrap-heap. No longer did the once-busy dockyard resound to the ceaseless rattle of pneumatic hammers as the "maties" toiled to contribute their not inconsiderable share to the supremacy of the Empire.
"You mark my words, old son," exclaimed Cavendish, "some day we'll be sorry we've scrapped these ships. We'll want them pretty badly. People talk of air power being the predominant factor, and that the battleship is a back number! It's sea power that counts, has counted from the beginning of history, and will do so till the end."
CHAPTER II
A Day of Surprises
Three months later, Peter Corbold saw Rioguayan territory for the first time. Acting upon a laconic cablegram from his uncle, Brian Strong, he had taken a passage in a Royal Mail steamer as far as Barbadoes, transferring at that point to one of the fleet of small vessels plying between the West Indies and the numerous ports on the Rio Guaya.
After a voyage lasting nearly a week, the steamer entered the wide estuary of the Rio Guaya, which, for more than a hundred miles, averages forty miles in width, and is tidal for a distance of nearly four hundred and fifty miles. On the right bank is the Republic of San Valodar; on the left that of San Benito. Rioguayan territory does not begin until Sambrombon Island, where the river is divided into two deep-water channels barely five miles in width.
Sambrombon Island made the position of the Republic of Rioguay unique. It was in the territory of San Valodar, consequently San Valodar claimed control of the Corda Channel on the north-east side, and one-half of El Porto Channel on the south-west side, sharing the jurisdiction of that waterway with the Republic of San Benito. Thus, whatever shipping Rioguay possessed could not pass to the open sea without entering the territorial waters of either San Benito or San Valodar; but, by mutual arrangement among the three republics, Rioguayan ships were allowed the right of using El Porto Channel, without payment of dues.