"Keep away from me!" retorted Nat. "I whipped you once, and I can do it again!"
"He didn't push your uncle overboard," said one of the crew. "He jumped."
"That's what he did," added the policeman. "He got away from me, too. Somebody get me a boat."
"What for?" asked the captain.
"Because I'm an officer of the law, and a prisoner has escaped. I had him a prisoner, all right, for I had my hand on him, but he went so sudden he got away."
"There's a boat moored alongside," said the captain, when matters had been briefly explained. "But you want to hurry. I can't lay here all day, though how I'm going to sail without a mate is more than I know."
"I'll get him for you, but I'll have to take him right away again," said the officer. "He's a criminal and a fugitive from justice."
The mate might have been almost anything, as far as any denial on his part was concerned, for not a trace of him had been seen since he jumped overboard. Sam Shaw, mean as he was, had a genuine affection for his uncle, and he was much distressed about his relative.
"He's drowned! I know he's drowned!" he exclaimed, as he walked about the deck, half crying.
"Oh, dry up!" advised Nat savagely, for he knew the mate was a good swimmer, and he had no doubt but that Bumstead had managed to reach shore, under cover of the semi-darkness, and was far enough away by this time.