"Fifteen hundred dollars," murmured the policeman, as he and Nat went out into the night. "This will be a fine arrest. Tom Duncan will wish he made this one."
"We'd better hurry," suggested Nat. "He may escape."
"Don't worry about that. No prisoner ever got away from me," boasted the officer.
It was not far to the dock where the Spray was tied up. Even in the darkness Nat knew the boat. He wondered if the mate was aboard. Once he reached the ship, the officer's manner changed. He proceeded cautiously, and seemed to know what he was about.
"Do you know which his cabin is?" he asked of Nat, in a whisper.
"No, but I know where the mate usually sleeps aboard these boats."
"You go ahead then."
The young pilot led the way. Though he had never been aboard the Spray he thought he could find where Bumstead slept. Fortunately, they did not meet the anchor watch, who was probably asleep.
"This ought to be his cabin," said Nat, indicating one in the same relative position as that occupied by the mate aboard the Jessie Drew.
"Then I'll go in and get him," said the officer.