“Don’t even know what it’s all about,” grumbled the treasurer of the Swift Construction Company. “Look at it!” ejaculated Tom, and handed Ned the radio message. “Great whales and little fishes!” gasped Ned, when he had read it. “It is from your father!” “That’s right.” “It can’t be any joke, then,” considered Ned. “Mr. Damon and Mary’s father must be in trouble.” “But if they are up in Iceland and we are down here, what can I do to help them out of trouble?” cried Tom anxiously. “That seems to be the question before the house,” replied Ned. “Guess we’ll have to go back home to find out. Your father is not very explicit, that is certain.” “He would not send this message at such a time unless the matter was urgent. I am glad we have been able to try out the _Winged Arrow_ as well as we have. Poor Mr. Nestor! Suppose he has died up there? Or maybe Mr. Damon is ill.” “I hope not!” cried Ned. “If it is anything like that, somebody will have to take passage at once for Iceland,” Tom went on, in a worried way. “Mary and her mother have nobody to look to for help but father and me. Mary’s uncle is traveling around the world, you know.” “Then the duty devolves on you, does it?” demanded the other young fellow. “And how about business? What about the Swift Construction Company? You will have to drop this flying boat right where she is!” “I hope not,” returned Tom, and he smiled again, though rather ruefully. “If we dropped her where she is, she would go to the bottom of a very deep part of the Atlantic, Ned.” “Don’t joke! This is too serious,” said his chum. “You are right. It must be serious—particularly for the Nestors. If we have to delay the exploitation of the _Winged Arrow_, all right. The need of Mary and her mother comes first.” It might have been difficult to convince Ned of this; but he made no further rejoinder. It did seem too bad that, just as success seemed to have crowned Tom Swift’s efforts in the building of a wonderful flying boat, a chance like this news from Iceland happened to postpone the final speed and other trials of the new invention. Tom did not waste time even in replying to the wireless message. As they could not communicate direct with the plant at Shopton he knew that, barring accidents, the flying boat would make her landing behind the Swift Construction Company stockade before a radiogram could be delivered to his father. Out of the boisterous sea the great flying boat rose like some huge waterfowl taking to the air. Her compressed air compartments were gradually emptied until she gained a perfect poise in the air, some mile or more above the sea. Tom guided her in a half circle and she headed for the shore. The seaplane flew directly over the British ship, _Cantoria_, the captain of which had complained of the danger to ordinary shipping by the nearness of the plane. “This fact will undoubtedly make the commander of that ship write to the _Times_ when he gets back to London,” chuckled Ned.