“It’s down.  Didn’t you see it or hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“The aeroplane.”

“An aeroplane!  You don’t say so.”

“It’s a fact.  Wonder you didn’t hear it.  It made a noise like a thousand humming birds, and came down not half-a-mile over yonder.  Some German fellow, I shouldn’t wonder, from Constantine or Finsch.  Hope we’re not in for trouble; I’m off to see.”

“So will I. Go straight on, stranger; you see that constable there?  Well, turn down by him, and you’ll come to the Administrator’s in about five minutes.”

Smith had taken off his overalls, so that his appearance attracted no more than a passing glance from the sailors, clerks, merchants, and natives whom he met hurrying towards the spot where the aeroplane had descended.  He found the Administrator’s house without difficulty.  Not having a card, he gave his name and rank at the door.  The Administrator was at breakfast with his family when Lieutenant Smith was announced.  Imagining that a war vessel had unexpectedly put in at the harbour, he rose and went to the door to greet his visitor and invite him to his table.  A look of disappointment crossed his face when he saw a dirty, unshaven object before him, dressed in stained brown serge, offering no resemblance to the trim spick-and-span officer he had expected to see.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, sir,” said Smith, “I’m in need of some petrol, and—­”

“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.”

The secretary opened wide eyes.

“Where’s it to be taken, sir?”

“To the aeroplane, as quickly as possible.”