But, unfortunately for him, Captain Quelch was fated to miss both; for, on turning the corner of the street leading to the quay he stood stock still, his eyes nearly leaping out of his head in sheer amazement.
Nor was the astonishment of his companions much less, for within fifty yards of them, securely moored, lay the s.s. Getalong.
The skipper turned to his partner in crime, the chief engineer.
"You've mucked it, you fool!" he hissed.
"'Pears ye're richt," admitted the still fuddled Aberdonian, as if it were beneath his dignity to argue over what was an apparent and obvious fact.
"I'll send the men aboard," continued Quelch. "You an' me had best hook it. Where's a railway station, my man?" he added, addressing a clean-shaven man in a blue reefer suit and bowler hat.
"Police station, you mean," was the reply. "This way, Captain Quelch. I've been looking for you. Let me caution you; any statement you may make will be used as evidence against you. Are you coming quietly?"
The procession was reformed. Captain Quelch and the detective led the way, followed by the chief engineer and another representative of the law.
The rest of the officers and the crew formed the main body, although they had no idea why they were invited to inspect the inside of the Aberstour police station. Three uniformed policemen brought up the rear, while ahead and on both flanks were dozens of curious townsfolk.
Once on his way along the quay the arrested captain looked seaward. A little cutter, outward bound, was passing between the pier-heads. To a seaman who, more than likely, was to spend the next few years of his life between stone walls, the sight of that little yacht raised envious regrets.