"I should just think we can," said Mr. Martin. "Neighbours, get together what Mr. Smith wants, and take 'em out along to the aeroplane. It's just a step or two beyond the railway, from what he says. Mother, send out some eatables, too, something better than biscuits, to Mr. Smith's man, who's looking after it. Now, Mr. Smith, come along. The Residency isn't far off: we're only a small town."
The two set off, and in a few minutes arrived at the Residency, a stone building of more pretensions than the wood and iron erections of which the town mostly consisted. The Resident was at home. Once more Smith had to tell his story, once more to listen to exclamations and reply to questions, grudging every moment that kept him. The Resident had heard of the wreck of the Albatross, in which he had been particularly interested, because he had some slight acquaintance with its commander.
"I heard by wire only yesterday, Mr. Smith, that a gunboat had been sent from Brisbane to the relief of your friends. She started three days ago, and can't possibly reach the wreck until to-morrow at earliest. But surely she will be there before you?"
"Not if I can get off soon, and don't meet with an accident on the way. It's nearly two thousand miles from here to Ysabel Island, I think?"
"I can't tell you within a hundred or two, but it's about that. When do you think you will get there?"
"About midday to-morrow, with luck. I shall take on here enough petrol to last the whole way, if I'm not thrown out of my course or meet with mishap; but I suppose I can get a fresh supply at Port Moresby, if necessary?"
"I very much doubt it. And what about getting back?"
"I'm going on as soon as I've seen that my people are safe—if I'm not too late. I've got to rejoin my ship at 9 a.m. on Friday morning, or I run the risk of being hauled over the coals."
"Surely not. They will make allowances, seeing what your errand has been."
"They don't make allowances easily in the Navy, sir. Besides, I've set my heart on being back in time."