As the rowboat approached the yacht, a figure could be seen leaning over the rail—the figure of an old man.
"Did you get him?" he called in a cautious whisper, as the craft came alongside the accommodation ladder.
"Sure thing," answered Ike.
The five were on deck shortly, and Mr. Larabee, approaching the youth who had been kidnapped, said:
"I'm sorry, Nephew Richard, that I had to act this way, but it's for your own good, as you will come to acknowledge in time. It is done to prevent you from making a beggar of yourself. Now, if you will come below, I'll explain my plans to you. My, but I'm glad this chase is over! I had a hard time to get you—me and er—me and these friends of mine. But now I have you, and we'll go back home. Yachting is terribly expensive—terribly!"
With a sigh, the old man led the way to the cabin. The others, including the captive, followed. The latter maintained a grim silence.
In the well-lighted apartment Uncle Ezra turned to behold his nephew. He looked once, and started. Twice, and he threw up his hands in amazement. Then he cried:
"Land o' Goshen! You've got the wrong boy! What does this mean? This isn't my nephew, Richard Hamilton! You've made a terrible mistake! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Now, I'll be sued for damages!"
"A mistake?" echoed Ike Murdock.
"A mistake?" faltered Sam Newton.