“We guessed he’d be making for Lymington,” continued the man. “When I heard Mr. Lucas’s boat was missing, I said to my mate, ‘The Admiral’s up to his old trick again.’ We call him The Admiral, because he’s always under the delusion that he is one. Of course, the police must come to the conclusion that the boat was taken by the fellow who got away from Parkhurst yesterday, though I told them they were wrong. A desperate chap, six foot one such as he is, wouldn’t risk showing himself in Yarmouth, if he wanted to steal a boat. Glad we didn’t come across him when we were looking for The Admiral last night. He’s serving a long term for house-breaking with violence, and I don’t envy the policeman who has to tackle him. Well, sir, we’ll take charge of The Admiral, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind in the least,” replied Mr. Grant. “I suppose he won’t give trouble?”
“Bless you, no, sir!” declared the attendant. “He’ll be as quiet as a lamb. Come on, Admiral!” he continued, addressing the subject of his search. “There’s a rehearsal this afternoon, and what will happen if the first violin isn’t there?”
So saying, he removed the madman’s bonds and helped him to his feet. The unfortunate man stepped into the waiting boat as quietly as any ordinary individual.
“How about this?” enquired the Scoutmaster, pointing to the sailing boat.
“I’ll be along to take charge of her, sir,” said the boatman. “You won’t be getting under way afore the flood tide, I’ll allow?”
With the departure of the attendants and their charge, Mr. Pendennis prepared to return to his own craft.
“We won’t be starting before two o’clock, I suppose,” he remarked. “We’ll carry our tide right through to Chichester. Ought to get there by eight with the breeze. By the way, how’s that hand of yours, Grant? Oughtn’t you to see a doctor and get it lanced?”
“No need,” replied Mr. Grant. “The poison’s out and the wound is healing nicely. It will be all right in a day or so. Now, lads! Who’s for the shore?”