The burly giant who approached swiftly impressed Tom on nearer view most favorably. While the self-styled representative of the Soviet Government sputtered to the military officer, the big sailor came close to the side of the seaplane. “Misder Swift—yes?” he said in a deep voice. “When I got telegram you come in t’ree days I say: ‘Das American come t’roo de air—yes?’ Undt, py jolly! so he came—yes. I sail to America once, twice. So I spe’k de English goot.” “You surely do, Captain,” declared Tom delightedly, realizing that this man was too simple a soul to have entered into any plot against Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor. “But it looks as if we might have trouble if we stop here for long.” “Vot trouble iss dot?” demanded Captain Karofsen. Tom explained briefly about the claim made by the Red who still gabbled angrily to the military officer. He was threatening to call upon the Governor of Reykjavik to reiterate an order to seize the seaplane. “And we must get some more gasoline before we try to find that iceberg,” concluded Tom. “Yes—I see,” agreed Captain Karofsen. “You go find Misder Damon undt the sick man with this flying boat? I been trying to charter one sailing boat—yes.” “What do you think? You’ll go with us, won’t you?” “Jes. She peat all de sailing poats in de vorl’,” cried the captain emphatically. “I see her sail down out of the skies, so like von bird. Wonderful!” “But the gasoline?” “Gasoline we shall buy at a station on the north coast of Iceland. A Standard Oil tanker bane stop dere twice in de year now—yes. You pay me for my time, Misder Swift?” “I surely will. You will lose nothing by going to help us,” cried Tom. “I go. I gif you back de eight hunder’ gold crowns you send me undt you pay me my captain’s wages like I have before de _Kalrye_ she was sink. Eh?” “A bargain!” declared Tom. “When do we go?” “Let dat big man give me de hand up, and we start now,” answered Skipper Karofsen placidly. “When dat man down dere want to make trouble we will not be here. Ja—yes?” The coolness of this proposition delighted Ned immensely; and Tom was satisfied that it would be the best and wisest way out of the difficulty. He did not intend to be delayed here if he could help it. “Guess we’d better take his tip and go,” Tom remarked with a questioning look at Ned. “As Shakespeare once wrote, ‘there is something rotten in Denmark,’” rejoined Ned, in a low voice, peering out at the excited Bolshevist. “If the Island authorities wish to call us to account for what we do, we’d better hunt for the castaways first. Come aboard, Captain Karofsen.” Tom motioned to Koku, who dropped his spear and club and stooped to seize the other giant’s wrist. Koku lifted and Captain Karofsen heaved himself up with surprising agility. Without using the gangplank he reached the sill. “Mark the place we shall stop for gasoline on that chart, Captain,” said Tom, pointing to the chart table.