"Arrest? What for?"
"For piloting a passenger steamer without a license. A complaint has been lodged against you with this board—the board of control in charge of harbors and pilots."
"A complaint? Who made it?"
"Bumstead is the name—er—Joseph Bumstead, mate of the freighter Spray," replied the harbor master, reading from some documents before him. "He says he met your boat off the reef last night, that you were in charge, without a license, and that you nearly ran him down. He made the complaint about an hour ago. His boat had to put back here for some repairs. He says your boat damaged the one he is mate of."
"That's not so—I mean that part about nearly running him down!" exclaimed Nat. "I saw him in plenty of time, and if it hadn't been for my warning whistle the Spray would have gone upon the reef herself!"
"I am sorry, my lad, but the complaint is made in regular form, and I shall have to hold you for a hearing. However, we will have it at once. I have sent to summon this Bumstead. Do you wish to notify any friends?"
"Mr. Weatherby is ill, and cannot come, but I would like Captain Turton to come."
"Very well, we will send for him. Officer, bring Captain Turton here. In the meantime you may sit down until we reach your case," the harbor master motioned Nat to take a chair on one side of the big room.