The rapid beats of a steamer’s paddles caused a general rush to fend off the boats lying alongside the _Kestrel_. One of the passenger boats plying between Yarmouth and Lymington was coming up the river and throwing out a tremendous wash. Further down stream anchored yachts were rolling heavily in the breaking swell, while tons of water were receding from the mud-flats in advance of the quickly moving vessel. As she passed, one of the passengers standing aft noticed the bound figure on the _Kestrel’s_ deck and called his companions’ attention to it. Then, raising his hands trumpet-wise to his mouth, he shouted: “We’ll come for him as soon as we can.” The steamer continued on her way to the pier, leaving the _Kestrel_ rolling so heavily in her swell that Heavitree had to steady the helpless captive lest he should be jerked overboard. Half an hour later a large rowing boat with a boatman and the two passengers from the steamer came alongside. “So you’ve got him, sir,” said one of the latter. “I hope he didn’t give you much trouble.” “Not much,” replied Mr. Grant. “Who is he?” The attendant, for such he was, explained. The madman was an inmate of a private mental hospital a few miles from Yarmouth. Usually he was quite docile, but there were occasions when he became violent. More than once by a display of considerable cunning he had broken out of the establishment, and invariably he had made his way to the little seaport and had taken possession of an unattended boat. “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?”