“Don’t bother your head about that,” rejoined Tom. “There are more anxieties than that on my mind.”
Tom had bidden good-bye to Mary Nestor and her mother early that morning.
“Bring him back to me, Tom,” Mrs. Nestor had murmured, through her tears.
“I know you will do your best, Tom, dear,” whispered Mary.
“I’ll do my best for you, Mary,” replied Tom softly. And he lingered a little over his good-bye to the girl, even though they both realized the need for haste.
Had the young inventor needed any inspiration for the journey, he would have gained it from the thought that these two helpless women were utterly dependent upon his good offices and that they believed he would be able to find and rescue the castaways on the giant iceberg.
The venture was one that was bound to bring to the surface of Tom Swift’s character all his better and braver qualities. He did not take this trip in the big flying boat without fully understanding what he was likely to be up against before he returned home—if, indeed, he safely made the return!
Twenty-four hours before, he had made up his mind to take the journey. During that time he had put every agency at his disposal at work to the end that the party should be amply provisioned and well secured against accident of every kind.
Of course, fresh supplies of gasoline and oil could be obtained at Reykjavik. Food, as well, could be bought there. But the young inventor did not leave Shopton and home without seeing personally that every man with him was well clothed, that in the cabin there were all the simple medical remedies usually supplied to a sailing ship, and that there were arms and ammunition for every man.
Koku insisted on bringing his long spear and a great war club. Ned wanted to forbid this display of savage implements, but Tom allowed his servant to bring the weapons in the use of which he was versed.