Last week Commander Francesco de Pinedo, swart, pouting but good-natured Fascist ace, bade goodbye to the steep shores of Roosevelt Lake, Ariz. But he did not leave them as expected. His seaplane, the Santa Maria, in which he had skirted Africa, spun over the Atlantic, swooped over the jungles of Brazil, threaded the West Indies, visited New Orleans and Texas, and which he was now refueling for the next hop, to San Diego and the Pacific, lay in still water surrounded by a Joseph's coat of many colors—spilled oil. From a rowboat...
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