“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.”

“You will return this way, then.  Ysabel Island is this side of the 180 degree line.”

“Well, no, sir.  Having started, I mean to get round the world if I can.”

“You’re a sportsman, I see.  Well, now, what will your best course be?”

He opened a map.

“I’ve planned it all, sir,” said Smith hurriedly.  “I go on to Samoa:  I’m sure to find petrol there; then Honolulu, San Francisco, St. Paul, and St. John’s, all big places, where I shall be able to get all I want.  Now, sir, I know Sunday night must be an awkward time, but, with your assistance, I daresay I can get the petrol from Mr. Mackinnon’s store.”

“There is a little difficulty which we shall have to get over.  We’ve a very strict regulation against entering at night any godown containing explosives, owing to the risk of fire.  Mr. Mackinnon’s godown will be locked up; his Chinaman will have the key; and as Resident I can’t openly countenance a breach of the rules.  We have had a great deal of trouble to enforce them, and any relaxation would have a very bad effect on the Chinamen:  they wouldn’t understand it.”

“Don’t you worry about that, sir,” said Mr. Martin.  “Leave it to me.  There’ll be a fine to pay to-morrow,” he added, with a chuckle; “and you can make it pretty stiff as a warning to the Chinese; it’ll be paid on the nail, I assure you.”

“Very well, Mr. Martin.  I shall know nothing about it officially until you come before me to-morrow, and I’ll read you a severe lecture in addition to fining you.  You can come to me for a subscription afterwards.  Good-bye, Mr. Smith:  good luck.  I sincerely hope you’ll find your friends safe and sound.  Give my kind regards to Lieutenant Underhill.”

Smith left the Residency with Mr. Martin, who led him to the Chinese quarter of the town, a dark assemblage of small huts, pig-sties, and poultry runs.

“I don’t know where Mackinnon’s boy lives,” said Mr. Martin.  “We shall have to hunt him up.”

All the huts were apparently in darkness, and Smith, as he walked rapidly beside his guide, thought that he preferred the smell of petrol smoke to the mingled odours that assailed his nose.  At length they discovered a light amid the gloom, and hastening towards it, discovered that it proceeded from an oil-lamp within one of the huts, the door of which was open.  Here they saw a group of Chinamen squatting on the floor, engaged in playing a game with small figures carved in bone.