Meanwhile, the policeman got into a boat and rowed about, but all to no purpose. The mate had disappeared as completely as if he was at the bottom of the lake.
"Well," said Nat, much disappointed, "that's done with. It's a failure. I guess I'd have done better if I'd gone alone, and not taken the policeman with me, though he meant well enough. Now I'd better get some breakfast and then arrange to have some one row me out to meet the Mermaid."
He told the officer that he would have to leave.
"Very well," replied the policeman. "You may go, but I'll never give up hunting for my prisoner. It's the first time one ever got away from me, and I'm not going to stand it. I'll keep hunting until I find him, if it takes all day or a whole year. You had better leave me your address, and as soon as I arrest him, I'll let you know."
"I don't believe that would do any good. I travel about so, on the boat, that I can't tell just what my address will be. You had better give me the warrant; I may run across him at some other port."
Rather reluctantly the policeman gave up the legal document.
"I wish I had handcuffed him at first," he said. "Then he couldn't have gotten away, and if he jumped in the water he would have been drowned."
"I wouldn't care about having that happen," said Nat.
"Me either, though I hate to let a prisoner get away. But I'll catch him yet, you see."
And when Nat had gone ashore, eaten his breakfast in a little restaurant, and was being rowed out to be picked up by the Mermaid, the policeman was still searching about the dock and adjacent shore for the missing mate.