"I don't keep petrol," said the Administrator shortly. "You've come here by mistake, no doubt. There's no petrol for sale in the port, to my knowledge."
"That's awkward. I'm afraid I must go on without. The aeroplane uses—"
"The aeroplane! What aeroplane?"
"I've come from Port Darwin in my aeroplane, and am going on at once to the Solomon Islands. I think I can just about manage it, so I won't detain you any longer, sir."
"Come now, let me understand. You have come from Port Darwin—by aeroplane! Where is it?"
"About half-a-mile beyond the town, sir."
"But—from Port Darwin—across the sea?"
There was nothing for it. Once more Smith retailed the outline of his story, the Administrator listening with growing amazement. In the midst of it a young Englishman came up, out of breath with running.
"Good morning, sir," he panted. "An aeroplane has just come down; people say it is a German. What had we better do?"
"Keep our heads, I should think," said the Administrator. "Mr. Williams—my secretary—Mr. Smith. The aeroplane is Mr. Smith's, and has come from Port Darwin in ten hours. Just run down to the harbour, Williams, and tell Captain Brown to send up all the petrol there is in the launch, and a few gallons of machine oil as well. Be as quick as you can."