"You'll find him a weird old bird, chock-a-block with comic notions and strange gadgets," declared Mackenzie, with a burst of British candour. "Not a bad sort, though," he added.
Just then Peter heard the distinctive drone of an aeroplane engine. It was some time before even his trained eye could detect the on-coming machine, but presently he could see the misty outlines of a huge flying-boat travelling at high speed at a great altitude. Even as he looked, the flying-boat shut off her engine and dived at such a steep angle that it appeared to be out of control.
At less than two hundred feet above the water the headlong plunge was arrested. The flying-boat seemed to hang irresolute, her momentum neutralized by the action of gravity.
She was a craft of nearly a hundred feet in length, propelled by four powerful engines. For her length, her wing-span was ridiculously small, the planes, three en échelon on either side, being short and with a decided horizontal camber. The absence of struts and tension wires gave Corbold the impression that the planes were of steel.
This much he took in before the flying-boat restarted her motors and was quickly lost to sight in the dazzling sunlight.
"Those chaps are pretty smart," commented Mackenzie. "It's only since 1918 that they took up flying seriously, and for Dagoes they've done wonders. But I wouldn't say too much about it to any Rioguayan, if I were you; it isn't exactly healthy. There's San Antonio just showing up. It's the port nearest to the Atlantic that Rioguay possesses, and like a good many South American towns, it is going ahead like steam. Keep your eyes open and don't say too much, or we may both find ourselves in gaol."
Viewed from the broad estuary, San Antonio looked like a huge marble town, standing out against the lofty, tree-clad hills that enclosed it on three sides. But it was not the appearance of the place that attracted Peter's attention so much as the shipping.
To his surprise, he saw three large battleships lying at moorings off the town—leviathans that, in spite of the Rioguay ensign, looked unmistakably British.
"Ay, two of them hailed from the Clyde and the third from Barrow," declared Mackenzie. "They were originally built for the Brazilian and Chilian Governments, but for some reason those republics agreed to sell them to Rioguay. I expect they had been studying the 'Is the Capital Ship Doomed?' controversy and come to the conclusion that they'd best sell while they had the chance."
"But what good are they to Rioguay?" asked Peter.