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diff --git a/28022-h/28022-h.htm b/28022-h/28022-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0393879 --- /dev/null +++ b/28022-h/28022-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11112 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of El Diablo, by Brayton Norton. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + + p.break { margin-top: 2em; } + + p.quotdate { /* date of a letter aligned right */ + text-align: right; + } + p.quotsig { /* author signature at end of letter */ + margin-left: 35%; + text-indent: -4em; /* gimmick to move 2nd line right */ + } + + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + ins.correction { + text-decoration:none; /* replace default underline.. */ + border-bottom: thin dotted gray; /* ..with delicate gray line */ + } + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + ul.TOC { /* TOC as a whole, or any sub-list of sub-topics in it */ + list-style-type: upper-roman; /*list with no symbol */ + position: relative; /*makes a "container" for span.tocright */ + left: 10%; + width: 85%; /*page-number margin pulls in */ + } + + span.ralign { /* use absolute positioning to move page# right */ + position: absolute; + right: 10%; /* right edge against container's right edge */ + top: auto; /* vertical align to original text baseline */ + } + + #tnote { width: 40em; + border: 1px dashed #808080; + background-color: #f6f6f6; + text-align: justify; + padding: 0.5em; + margin: 80px auto 80px auto; + } + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of El Diablo, by Brayton Norton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: El Diablo + +Author: Brayton Norton + +Illustrator: Dan Sayre Groesbeck + +Release Date: February 8, 2009 [EBook #28022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DIABLO *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, Erica Pfister-Altschul and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="./images/image-1.jpg"> +<img src="./images/image-1_th.jpg" alt='"May I come aboard your vessel?"' title='"May I come aboard your vessel?"' /> +</a></p> +<p class="figcenter">"May I come aboard your vessel?"</p> + + + + +<h1>EL DIABLO</h1> + +<h3><i>By</i><br /> +BRAYTON NORTON</h3> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Illustrated by</span><br /> +DAN SAYRE GROESBECK</h3> + + +<h5>INDIANAPOLIS<br /> +THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br /> +PUBLISHERS</h5> + + +<h5>Copyright 1921<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sunset Magazine, Inc.</span></h5> + +<h5>Copyright 1921<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span></h5> + + +<h4><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></h4> + + +<h5>PRESS OF<br /> +BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br /> +BOOK MANUFACTURERS<br /> +BROOKLYN, N.Y.</h5> + + +<h5><i>To</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">My Wife</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Sterling</span>"</h5> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">Forbidden Waters</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">Jetsam of the Sea</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">Tangled Threads</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">The Work of Their Fathers</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">The Way of the Gull</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">The Law of the Fishermen</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">You'll Have To Show Me</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">A Declaration of Independence</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">Diablo Luck</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">Salvage</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">Refusing to Be Bluffed</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">A Warning</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">The Strike</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">The Mother of Invention</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><span class="smcap">Business and Pleasure</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><span class="smcap">The Baited Pawn</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><span class="smcap">The Fangs of Mascola</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><span class="smcap">The Cost of Defeat</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><span class="smcap">Rock Follows Up</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><span class="smcap">Plans for a Show-Down</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><span class="smcap">The Gray Ghost</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><span class="smcap">Strictly on the Defensive</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><span class="smcap">Battle of Northwest Harbor</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><span class="smcap">A Fighting Chance</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><span class="smcap">The Banker at the Helm</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><span class="smcap">The Value of Publicity</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><span class="smcap">To Solve the Mystery</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><span class="smcap">The Island's Prisoner</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><span class="smcap">Under Orders</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><span class="smcap">The Fight in the Cave</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"><span class="smcap">Beneath the Waters</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"><span class="smcap">For All the World To Know</span></a> + <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 1 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="EL_DIABLO" id="EL_DIABLO"></a>EL DIABLO</h2> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>FORBIDDEN WATERS</h3> + + +<p>Richard Gregory stirred restlessly in his sleep vaguely aware of an +unfamiliar sound, a faint tapping, insistent, disturbing. He wakened +sharply and sat bolt upright, conscious of the fact that he was fully +dressed. Then he remembered.</p> + +<p>"All right, Bill," he called softly. "Coming."</p> + +<p>It took but a minute to shove his automatic into his pocket and secure +his rifle from the corner. Groping his way to the door he stood +shivering on the threshold, staring into the thick gray fog which +enveloped him.</p> + +<p>A hand touched his shoulder. Strong fingers tightened on his arm.</p> + +<p>"This way," a low voice directed. "Careful, don't scuff."</p> + +<p>Gregory started to speak but a warning pressure of the big fingers +restrained him. His companion led the way. He followed in silence. +Through the wind<!-- Page 2 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>ing streets of the little fishing village they went, +the familiar landmarks about them looming grotesque and mystical in the +low-hanging fog. At length the acrid air of the sea assailed their +nostrils and the silence of the night was broken by the noisy splashing +of a marsh-loon.</p> + +<p>Bill Lang stopped suddenly. Faintly through the gray void came the +muffled gulping of an under-water exhaust. Huddled together they stood +listening. To Richard Gregory the sound indicated only the slow approach +of a motor-boat. To the trained ear of the fisherman it meant that +Mexican Joe was on time with the <i>Sea Gull</i>.</p> + +<p>Lang led on down the loosely boarded wharf piled high with ill-smelling +fish-boxes and paused at the head of a narrow gangway, looking back, +listening. Close by the dock Gregory discerned the outline of a +fishing-boat, magnified by the fog into whimsical proportions. +Descending cautiously, he followed Lang aboard and groped his way into +the protecting shelter of the engine-house. The cold mist clung to his +flesh and he drew his coat closer about him. The soft breathing of the +heavy-duty motor became more pronounced, more labored. The clutch was +in. They were backing out into the stream. He glanced above him at the +stay where the starboard side-lamp hung. But the grayness was unbroken +by a single ray of green.</p> + +<p>Lang was running dark.</p> + +<p>It was taking a long chance on such a night as<!-- Page 3 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> this, Gregory reflected. +But then the whole business was a long chance. And Lang knew his +business.</p> + +<p>Imbued with a fisherman's sixth sense of feeling his way along familiar +channels rendered unfamiliar by fog, Bill Lang piloted his craft +skilfully down the silent bay in the direction of the open sea.</p> + +<p>Crouching in the bow, Mexican Joe sought with cat-like eyes to pierce +the gray veil of blinding fog. Narrowly averting collision with +unlighted harbor-boats, bumping at times over sandy shoals, plowing +through grass-grown mud-flats and skirting dangerous reefs with only the +smallest margin of safety, they came at last to the jettied outlet of +Crescent Bay.</p> + +<p>The roar of the breakers sounded ominously close through the gray canopy +of fog. The little craft rocked briskly in the trough of the swell as +Lang threw the wheel over and headed out to sea. Flashing a small light +over the compass, which served as an improvised binnacle, he peered +intently at the instrument. Then he spoke softly to the man forward.</p> + +<p>"Take the wheel, Joe."</p> + +<p>When the Mexican had relieved him Lang bent low over the compass and +examined his watch. Then he joined Gregory.</p> + +<p>"Twelve o'clock," he announced. "We've got to make Diablo before +daybreak. Sixty-five miles in less than four hours. That means hurry in +weather like this."</p> + +<p>He turned to the man at the wheel.</p> + +<p>"Crowd her, Joe," he called. "We're taking<!-- Page 4 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> chances to-night. If we hit +anybody we might as well hit hard."</p> + +<p>"Do you think we got out without being seen?"</p> + +<p>Lang shook his head sagely in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Not much of a chance," he answered after a moment. "Couldn't have had a +better night, though. But it's mighty hard to slip anything over on the +dago. If the fog would lift up it would be even shootin' you'd see one +of Mascola's outfit trailin' us astern. We've got him nervous, I tell +you."</p> + +<p>"It's high time they were getting nervous," Gregory rejoined. "When they +try to browbeat American fishermen off the high seas and coastal waters +it's time somebody was getting nervous."</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment and Lang as usual only grunted his assent. +Then Gregory went on:</p> + +<p>"But there's something else that's making them nervous, Lang. Something +they are doing around that devil-island. What kinds of laws they're +breaking out there nobody knows. They may be doing anything from +shooting fish to catching chicken-halibut or baby barracuda. We don't +know what. But we do know they're mighty touchy on who cruises round El +Diablo. When our boats get around that infernal island something always +happens. You know that."</p> + +<p>Lang's grunt was emphatic and Gregory concluded:</p> + +<p>"That's why it's up to us to find out what it is. It's hard enough to +get the fish as it is without Mascola<!-- Page 5 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> staking out the water like he +owned it and telling us to keep out."</p> + +<p>For some time the two men leaned together against the engine-house, each +keeping his own counsel, each busied with his own thoughts. Then Gregory +spoke:</p> + +<p>"If anything happens to me to-night, Lang, keep all this business to +yourself until my son comes home. Tell him. No one else. We want to get +to the bottom of this thing ourselves without any one else butting in to +bungle the job. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>When Lang had gone to relieve the Mexican at the wheel Richard Gregory's +thoughts turned to his son overseas. Should he have waited until his +return? He wondered. It was a young man's work, such a job as this,—and +yet,—no, it was better to get to the bottom of the thing to-night. His +head sank lower on his breast. Perhaps he could snatch a few winks of +sleep. He might need it.</p> + +<p>The muffled rattle of the anchor-chain caused him to waken sharply, +stiff with cold. The motor was silent. The launch rocked lazily. Through +a rift in the fog he saw a rocky beach only a stone's throw away. They +were anchored close by the shore.</p> + +<p>"Hell-Hole," announced Lang in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Gregory picked up his rifle.</p> + +<p>For a moment the big fisherman by his side hesitated. Then he said: "Why +not stay on the <i>Gull</i>, Mr. Gregory? Let Joe go ashore with me."</p> + +<p>"No."<!-- Page 6 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p>The answer was decisive. There were no explanations. Lang knew it was +final. Assisted by the Mexican, he swung the dory free and lowered it +quietly into the water. Helping Gregory into the small boat he turned to +the Mexican and spoke rapidly in Spanish. Gregory could catch only the +substance of a few sentences. Lang was telling Joe to stand by for a +quick get-away. To watch the beach and start the anchor when he saw them +coming. And above all he was to keep quiet.</p> + +<p>The bow of the dory grated on the beach. The two men stepped out and +without a backward glance slowly disappeared into the fog.</p> + +<p>Huddled in the bow, Mexican Joe waited by the anchor-chain, his eyes +searching the little cove. For a long time he sat thus, not even daring +to light a cigarette. Once his straining ears caught the muffled exhaust +of a motor-launch. It came very close but the fog guarded him well and +he heard it pass on. What the two men were doing upon the island +concerned Mexican Joe not at all. The devil-isle was filled with +secrets. Why should he try to fathom them? He was paid to obey and Señor +Lang had twice saved his life.</p> + +<p>A sound from the shore caused Joe to struggle to his feet and begin +hauling on the chain. Then he looked again, stopped and straightened up.</p> + +<p>There were three men coming along the beach, four,—five.</p> + +<p>Joe dropped behind the rail and watched them<!-- Page 7 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> climb over the rocks and +halt by the empty dory. Then he heard the sound of low voices in a +foreign tongue, and shivered. The voices of the men on the beach grew +fainter. They were minutely examining the dory. One lifted his arm and +pointed seaward in the direction of the <i>Sea Gull</i>.</p> + +<p>The Mexican crept to his sawed-off shotgun loaded with buck-shot. +Securing the weapon he made his way again to the bow and waited. The +rock-bound cove was silent. The dory was still on the beach. But the men +were gone.</p> + +<p>At length came the rattle of loose stones mingled with the sound of +low-pitched voices. <i>Gracious a <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Dois'">Dios</ins></i>. It was Señor Lang and Señor +Gregory. Joe's hand leaped to the anchor-chain. There would be need to +hurry. He tugged hard at the heavy cable, then he stopped, straightened +and screamed a warning.</p> + +<p>Gregory and Lang whirled about only a few feet from the dory. From the +shadowed crevices in the rocks, men leaped forward and hurled themselves +to the beach. About the skiff bright jets of flame cut the fog. Came the +sharp report of an automatic, twice,—three times.</p> + +<p>Mexican Joe watched the unequal struggle, huddled against the rail. His +eyes brightened with fear. Twice he raised his gun, but his hand shook. +At the distance the shot would scatter. There would be no use. He saw +the two men fight their way to the dory. Saw Lang reach it, shove it +into the water. The Señor was safe. <i>Gracious a Dios</i>. But no, he was +go<!-- Page 8 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>ing back for Señor Gregory. <i>Sangre de Christo</i>, they would all be +killed.</p> + +<p>The fog thickened. The struggling forms merged, grotesquely intermingled +and became indistinct. From behind the gray curtain came the sound of +heavy blows, muttered imprecations, groans.</p> + +<p>Joe waited for the veil to lift, staring with straining eyes, cursing +softly. <i>Los Señores</i> were being murdered before his eyes and he could +do nothing. Through a rift in the fog he saw Gregory with his back to +the cliff fighting back the savage horde which were pressing hard upon +him. He was using his rifle as a club. The men were falling away from +him. Lang had cleared the way to the skiff; was almost at his +companion's side.</p> + +<p>From the overhanging ledge above, two dark figures leaped suddenly upon +the man beneath, wrenching his gun from his hand, crushing him to the +sand. Lang fell upon the group of struggling figures, fighting like a +madman. Then he staggered, dropped to his knees and went down before the +onslaught.</p> + +<p>Again the gray pall drifted down from the tall crags above and blotted +out the scene.</p> + +<p>Joe staggered to his feet, grasping the wire-stays for support. Then he +stiffened and stood listening. The muffled purr of a high-powered motor +disturbed the silence. From out the gloom to starboard he saw the bow of +a big motor-boat cut the fog. The Mexican shrieked a warning and +tightened his clutch on the stays.<!-- Page 9 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p>The strange craft veered, the sharp bow swung over. With wide-open +engines, she struck the <i>Sea Gull</i> amidships, full on the beam. Hurled +to the deck by the impact the Mexican heard the snapping and grinding of +timbers. He was conscious of falling and the cool rush of waters about +his head. Then he remembered no more.</p> + +<p>Wrapped in a clinging mantle of filmy fog, rock-bound, grim and +mysterious, the Island of El Diablo frowned at the sea from behind the +veil of silence. Brave men had sought to fathom her secret but she had +guarded it well.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 10 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>JETSAM OF THE SEA</h3> + + +<p>John Blair was worried. Every line of his face, every movement of his +nervous body showed it. He turned quickly to the bare-footed fisherman +who blocked the doorway.</p> + +<p>"You combed the beach, you say? How far?"</p> + +<p>"San Lucas to Port Angeles."</p> + +<p>"No signs of wreckage; nothing?"</p> + +<p>The fisherman shook his head.</p> + +<p>Blair was silent for a moment. Then he asked: "How far out to sea did +you go?"</p> + +<p>"About three miles, 'Dog-face' Jones's workin' out San Anselmo way. Big +Jack left last night for Diablo."</p> + +<p>Blair started. "Diablo," he repeated. "They surely wouldn't have gone +out there."</p> + +<p>Before the fisherman could reply there came an interruption. The door +opened quickly and a young man strode into the room.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gregory? Is he in?"</p> + +<p>Blair looked up quickly at the sound of the voice and ran his eyes over +the clean-cut figure in the serge uniform. The impression, hastily +formed, of having<!-- Page 11 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> met the man before, was strengthened by the roving +black eyes which were expectantly traveling about the room.</p> + +<p>"This is the Legonia Fish Cannery, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Blair nodded. "Yes," he said. "But Mr. Gregory is not here at present."</p> + +<p>"When will he be in?"</p> + +<p>The words came eagerly with the brusk assurance of an immediate answer. +The crisp insistence had a decidedly familiar sound. Blair regarded the +clean-cut face of the young officer intently as he answered:</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Will you call again or leave your name?"</p> + +<p>"I am Mr. Gregory's son."</p> + +<p>Blair came to meet him with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>"I might have known it," he said. "I am Mr. Blair, your father's +manager. I'm glad to meet you. Your father did not expect you so soon, +did he?"</p> + +<p>The young man shook his head and smiled.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered. "Dad thinks I'm still on the other side. I wanted to +surprise him. I wrote a letter saying I would be home as soon as +possible. I mailed the letter on the ship which brought me over." A +boyish look crept into his eyes. "Don't let on when dad comes back that +you've seen me, will you, Mr. Blair? I have to go back to camp to-night +and arrange about my discharge. It may be a week before I can be back."</p> + +<p>The black eyes grew suddenly wistful.<!-- Page 12 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Say, Mr. Blair, don't you think there's a chance of my seeing dad +before I leave? I have until five o'clock to get my train."</p> + +<p>Blair was unable to meet the steady gaze of his employer's son. Should +he tell the boy of his father's strange absence? Voice his own fears and +suspicions for the safety of Gregory, Sr.? By the time the young man +returned the mystery might be solved. At least they would know +something.</p> + +<p>"What is wrong, Mr. Blair?"</p> + +<p>The question was volleyed with quiet insistence. It demanded an answer. +The boy would not be put off. He was his father's son. Blair sought to +put the matter in as favorable a light as possible under the +circumstances. In a few words he told of the disappearance of Richard +Gregory.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory listened quietly, at times interrupting with rapid-fire +questions.</p> + +<p>"When was he last seen?"</p> + +<p>"Three days ago."</p> + +<p>"You knew nothing of his plans?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing definite," Blair evaded. "He might have gone out with the +fishermen scouting for albacore. One of Lang's boats turned up missing +the next morning. Lang himself is missing, too."</p> + +<p>"Who is Lang?"</p> + +<p>"Your father's fishing captain. He recently bought him a number of new +boats. They might have gone to try one of them out."</p> + +<p>"Nothing has been heard of them since?"<!-- Page 13 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not yet. You see it has been very foggy lately all along the coast. +That has handicapped our search."</p> + +<p>"Where can I get a boat?"</p> + +<p>Blair shook his head. Then he came closer and put his hand on Kenneth +Gregory's arm.</p> + +<p>"All of the Lang boats are out now, Captain. Everything is being done, I +can assure you. It would be no use."</p> + +<p>"Are there no other boats here than Lang's?"</p> + +<p>"Only the alien fleet."</p> + +<p>The man in uniform whirled about decisively.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll get one of them. Will you show me where they are?"</p> + +<p>"It would be no use. They wouldn't go. You see——"</p> + +<p>"Let's try."</p> + +<p>With some reluctance Blair consented.</p> + +<p>"We haven't been getting along any too well with Mascola's outfit +lately," he explained as they walked along. "I'll stop at Lang's wharf +first. Maybe some of the boats are back."</p> + +<p>Turning on to a small wharf they walked in silence over the loose boards +down the lane of ill-smelling fish-boxes. At the end of the dock a +narrow gangway led downward to a small float which rocked lazily in the +capping swells thrown up by a passing fishing-boat. Close by, another +wharf jutted out into the bay. Upon it were a number of swarthy +fishermen, piling nets. Blair stopped abruptly at the head of the +gang<!-- Page 14 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>way, his eyes searching the water. The fishing-boat was swinging up +into the tide and edging closer.</p> + +<p>"Is that one of the Lang boats?" he heard Gregory ask.</p> + +<p>A paroxysm of coughing prevented Blair's immediate reply. The young +officer looked eagerly at the approaching craft, upon the bow of which a +dark-skinned man leaned carelessly against the wire-stays. He noticed +that the man was tall and straight. Upon his head a gaudy red cap rested +with a rakish air. His eyes were upon the Lang dock as he stood with +folded arms and waited for the boat to nose up to the near-by wharf.</p> + +<p>Gregory admitted to himself that there was something masterful about the +red-capped stranger, at the same time, repellent. The crowd of aliens +moreover, he noticed, fell away respectfully. The newcomer was evidently +a personage in the community.</p> + +<p>Gregory, watching him as he stepped from the launch, instinctively +disliked him.</p> + +<p>"That's Mascola."</p> + +<p>Blair bit the words savagely.</p> + +<p>Gregory surveyed the newcomer with interest.</p> + +<p>"He has a boat," he said. "Let's go over and get it."</p> + +<p>Blair put out a restraining hand.</p> + +<p>"There would be no use," he said. "Mascola wouldn't let us have that +boat to save our lives."</p> + +<p>Gregory was already on his way to the Italian<!-- Page 15 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> dock. Blair started to +overtake him. Then he glanced down the bay and his face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Wait," he called. "Here comes one of Lang's boats now. Perhaps they +will know something."</p> + +<p>With the approach of the second fishing-boat came a crowd of curious +fishing folk of all nationalities. Men, women and children clustered +about the dock, imbued with a lust for excitement and a morbid desire to +learn the worst from the latest mystery of the sea. All eyes were held +by the fishing-boat as it swung about and drew near the float.</p> + +<p>Blair shoved his way through the crowd and led Gregory down the gangway. +Upon the covered hatch of the launch Blair's eye caught sight of two +rolls of canvas, fashioned bundle-like. Nets most likely. He looked +eagerly at the fishermen aboard the incoming craft. Their faces caused +him to look again at the canvas bundles. Then he turned quickly to the +man by his side.</p> + +<p>"Why not wait on the wharf until they come up?" he asked in a low voice +in which he strove to conceal his agitation.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory shook his head. He too had noticed the bundles on the +hatch.</p> + +<p>In silence the launch tied up to the fleet. In silence two bare-footed +fishermen lifted one of the bundles and carrying it carefully between +them, stepped out upon the gently rocking float. The salt-stiffened +canvas unrolled as the men laid their burden down, exposing the body of +a huge fisherman. His face was<!-- Page 16 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> battered and bruised and Gregory noticed +that his hair was red.</p> + +<p>Blair's hand on Gregory's arm tightened.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he exclaimed. "It's Lang."</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory looked down into the face of the big fisherman. Then he +remembered the other bundle. Blair sought to deter him. But he was too +late to check the onward rush of the young man across the float. Already +he was boarding the boat. Blair watched him raise the flap of canvas. +Saw his eyes searching the folds beneath. At length came voices. A man +was speaking.</p> + +<p>"Found them off Diablo. Went on the rocks at Hell-Hole in the fog. Boat +was smashed. Bu'sted clean in two."</p> + +<p>Gregory scarcely heard them as he knelt on the hatch looking down into +the face of the one he had traveled seven thousand miles to see.</p> + +<p>Blair led him away. As the little procession moved silently down the +dock the crowd parted respectfully. Eyes that were hard, softened. +Fishermen took off their hats, holding them awkwardly in their red +hands. Fisherwomen looked down at the rough boards and crossed +themselves devoutly.</p> + +<p>The cortège passed on. Turning from the dock they threaded their way +down the narrow street leading to the town. As they neared the alien +docks, the dusky fishermen uncovered and drew together, awed by the +presence of the great shadow.</p> + +<p>Gregory's arm brushed against a man leaning care<!-- Page 17 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>lessly against the +wharf-rail. Raising his eyes from the ground, he beheld the one man of +all the villagers who had remained unmoved, unsoftened by the spectacle. +With his red cap shoved back upon his shining black hair the insolent +stranger stood looking on with folded arms. Gregory noticed that Mascola +had not even taken the trouble to remove the cigarette which hung damply +from his lips.</p> + +<p>For an instant the two men looked deep into each other's eyes. Then the +procession passed on.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 18 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>TANGLED THREADS</h3> + + +<p>The death of his father hurled Kenneth Gregory into a new world—a world +of unfamiliar faces, of strange standards of value, of vastly different +problems—the world of business.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory had taken this world as he found it. There had been no +time to moralize upon the situation into which the spinning of the wheel +had plunged him. There was work to do.</p> + +<p>Securing his discharge from the army he had turned to the task of +settling up his father's estate. The fact that he was the sole heir and +legal executor simplified matters. But there were complications. These +he had unraveled with the aid of Farnsworth, the attorney for the +estate. Then he had come to Legonia and found plenty to do.</p> + +<p>Blair, the former manager of the Legonia Fish Cannery, had suffered an +attack of pneumonia and was ill at a neighboring sanitarium. From him he +could therefore learn nothing. The books of the company told him but +little more. Now he was going over the private papers in his father's +office.</p> + +<p>"Are you the boss?"<!-- Page 19 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory turned from his perusal of a file of letters and faced a +young man standing in the doorway. Gregory nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'm the owner," he replied pleasantly, noting the well-worn, +much-patched service uniform of the stranger. "And for the time being, +boss. My manager is sick. Is there anything I can do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You can give me a job."</p> + +<p>Gregory smiled at the frankness of the answer.</p> + +<p>"I might at that," he said. "Can you speak Russian or Italian?"</p> + +<p>The ex-soldier shook his head as Gregory went on:</p> + +<p>"What I need more than anything else just now is an interpreter. I have +a lot of foreigners working outside cleaning up. I've been having to +make signs to them all morning."</p> + +<p>The soldier's brow wrinkled.</p> + +<p>"That's what they told me of this place in Centerville," he said. "They +said I was only wasting shoe-leather to come down here. That it was no +place for an American."</p> + +<p>"Maybe they're right," Gregory cut in. Then he added: "However, we may +be able to change things. What can you do?"</p> + +<p>The youth's face assumed a more cheerful expression. "I'm a mechanic by +trade," he answered. "I'll do anything right now."</p> + +<p>"Know anything about marine motors?"</p> + +<p>"Two or four cycle?"<!-- Page 20 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory pondered. 'Twas best to be on the safe side. "Both," he +answered.</p> + +<p>The soldier shook his head. "You'll have to count me out on the two +cycles," he said. "Those little peanut-roasters and coffee-grinders are +new to me. Never had any experience with anything much but Unions and +Standards. That's what most of the fishermen have in their boats."</p> + +<p>Gregory's face cleared.</p> + +<p>"I may be able to take you on. I have a lot of motors which will need +looking after before long. In the meantime if you want to go to work +cleaning up the house, you can start any time you're ready. What do you +say?"</p> + +<p>"I'll say you've hired a man. My name's Barnes."</p> + +<p>Gregory extended his hand. "And mine is Gregory. When do you want to go +to work?"</p> + +<p>"Right away."</p> + +<p>Together the two men went out into the fish-laden atmosphere of the +cannery. Walking down the aisles, flanked on both sides by huge vats and +silent conveyers, they came upon a number of dark-skinned laborers +whiling away the time with a scant pretense of work. Stung into a +semblance of action by the sudden appearance of the boss, the men +abruptly postponed their conversation and tardily plied their scrubbing +brooms, meanwhile eying the newcomer with frank disapproval.</p> + +<p>Leaving Barnes with the injunction to keep an eye on the men and, if +possible, induce them to speed up,<!-- Page 21 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> Gregory returned to his work. +Passing through the outer office where he had met Mr. Blair upon the day +of his arrival from overseas, he entered the little room which Richard +Gregory had used for a private office. Opening a small safe which stood +in a corner, he resumed his examination of his father's papers.</p> + +<p>In a vague sort of way he regarded his legacy of the Legonia Fish +Cannery as a trust. In the atmosphere of this room this feeling was +always enhanced, the trust more sacred. Here Richard Gregory had worked, +planned, worried. Every detail of the room spoke eloquently from father +to son. Here was begun an unfinished work. Richard Gregory had believed +in it; had given his life to it.</p> + +<p>Farnsworth had said that the business had never paid. That his client +had purchased it directly against his advice and had continued to throw +good money after bad ever since. The lawyer advised selling at the first +good opportunity.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory absolutely refused to believe that his father had +failed. The business had not prospered. That was true. But doubtless +there were good and sufficient reasons. He continued his examination of +the contents of the safe, methodically going through the various +compartments and making notes concerning the papers found therein. At +length he came to a memorandum which held his attention. It was the +agreement his father had made with Lang to purchase ten fully-equipped +fishing-boats for the fisherman.</p> + +<p>Gregory studied the penciled notes. His father<!-- Page 22 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> had reposed untold +confidence in Lang's integrity. So much was shown by the loose +phraseology of the document and the extreme latitude given the fisherman +in compliance with its terms. That this confidence had evidently not +been misplaced, was evidenced by the promptness with which Lang met the +payments as they fell due.</p> + +<p>Farnsworth, Gregory remembered, had regarded the chattel mortgage on +Lang's boats and equipment as a most doubtful asset. If Lang had left a +son the old lawyer had maintained, who would be competent to go on with +his father's work, the situation would have appeared in a more favorable +light.</p> + +<p>But Lang had left no son. Only a daughter. And, to quote the reputable +Farnsworth, what chance would any man stand of getting anything out of a +woman on a loosely drawn contract like that? Figure it profit and loss, +my boy, he had concluded bruskly.</p> + +<p>Like Farnsworth, Gregory too wished that Lang had left a son. It would +be easier dealing with a man, competent or incompetent, than a woman. +Well, he would say nothing to the girl for the time being at least. She +had had enough to bear in the loss of her father. That much he could +swear to. When she had defaulted the next payment he would make her a +proposition to buy her boats. Fishing was no business for a girl anyway.</p> + +<p>He glanced at the schedule of dates arranged by Lang and his father for +making the payments and turned to the calendar. One of them was already +past<!-- Page 23 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> due. Five hundred dollars should have been paid the week before.</p> + +<p>So intent was Gregory upon his study of the contract that he failed to +hear the opening of the outer office door. His first intimation of the +presence of a visitor came with a sharp knock upon his half-open door.</p> + +<p>"Come in," he called.</p> + +<p>A wind-bronzed fisherman stood upon the threshold, dangling a red cap in +his hand. He bowed gracefully and smiled.</p> + +<p>"You are Mr. Gregory?"</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded, trying to remember where he had seen the man before. +Suddenly he remembered. It was on the day his father's body had been +brought in. Near the alien wharf a man had jostled against him. A man +with a bright red cap, smoking a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"I am Mascola."</p> + +<p>The visitor spoke the words slowly as if anxious that none of the +importance of the introduction might be lost or passed over lightly.</p> + +<p>Gregory looked Mascola over carefully. The man's carelessness and +seeming irreverence on that never-to-be-forgotten day might not have +been intentional. He must not allow his prejudice to interfere with his +judgment. That was not business. He resolved to hear what the man had to +say.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>Mascola walked unbidden to a chair and seated himself before replying: +"You will want fish before<!-- Page 24 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> long, Mr. Gregory. I would like to contract +for my men to get them for you."</p> + +<p>Gregory was nettled by Mascola's calm assurance. He had a mind to send +him packing. Blair, he remembered, had evidently had but little use for +the Italian. But Blair too might have been prejudiced. It was business +perhaps to hear the man's proposal.</p> + +<p>"What is your proposition?" he asked, hoping Mascola would be brief.</p> + +<p>In this he was not disappointed. Mascola plunged his hand into the +pocket of his vest and drew forth a paper which he placed in Gregory's +hand.</p> + +<p>Gregory ran his eye hastily over the typewritten sheet which contained +the memorandum of four numbered clauses. They were briefly worded and to +the point:</p> + +<div class="blockquot">1. The fishermen to furnish albacore, tuna and sardines +at the same price paid by the Golden Rule Cannery.<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="blockquot">2. The cannery to assume complete liability for all +boats and equipment used by the fishermen in providing +fish for it.<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="blockquot">3. The cannery to agree to pay all fines, state and +federal, for any violation of fishing or navigation +laws.<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="blockquot">4. The cannery to agree, under bonds, to hire no men who +are not members of the fishermen's union.</div> + +<p>Gregory looked up to meet Mascola's dark eyes regarding him intently.<!-- Page 25 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That is all," said the Italian boss.</p> + +<p>"It's enough," commented Gregory tersely, striving to hold his temper in +check at the impudence of Mascola's proposal. Any one of the four +clauses he realized would be amply sufficient to throw him into +bankruptcy. The first would place him in the hands of his local +competitor, a Slavonian. The last would deliver all that was left to the +fisherman's union, also foreigners. By the second clause his property +would be placed in jeopardy to protect the carelessness or incompetence +of others, aliens all. And the third, Gregory did not clearly +understand. To satisfy his curiosity he asked:</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by the cannery agreeing to pay the fines?"</p> + +<p>Mascola smiled pityingly, exposing a fine set of even teeth.</p> + +<p>"You are a stranger here. I forgot. So you do not know that it is +necessary for fishermen to break the law sometimes to get fish. The +canneries must have them. They ask no questions. If we can get them +without breaking the laws it is so much the better. But sometimes when +you have steam up you want fish very bad. Then you say, Mascola, I must +have fish. Well, I get them for you. There are always fish to be caught +in some way or other. They are worth a good deal to you at such a time. +Why should you not pay for the extra risk we run in getting them?"</p> + +<p>It was Gregory's turn to smile.<!-- Page 26 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rather ingenious," he commented. "Do you find it necessary to go to +such extremes often?"</p> + +<p>Mascola sensed the sarcasm. A faint flush crept to his dark cheeks. He +began to suspect that the young man was not taking either him or his +proposition seriously. Perhaps he had said too much. He answered the +question with one word.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Gregory studied Mascola's face and his smile faded. His irritation at +the Italian's entrance had at first given place to amusement at the +absurdity of the man's proposal. Now came again the feeling of dislike +which had assailed him on the occasion of his first meeting with +Mascola.</p> + +<p>"Mascola," he said, "I'll keep your proposition in mind. That is just +about all I ever will do with it, I guess, though I'll talk it over with +Blair."</p> + +<p>The Italian frowned at the mention of Blair. He had supposed Blair to be +gone. Had not Rossi reported the departure of the former manager more +than a month ago? Blair would be a stumbling-block to his scheme. Blair +knew too much. Mascola realized that he had been too confident. He felt, +moreover, that he had made a fool of himself. Had not the young man +smiled? His anger mounted at the recollection. He rose quickly, fighting +it down.</p> + +<p>"All right, Mr. Gregory," he said smoothly. "I make my proposition. I +come to you this time. You do not accept. It is all right. Next time you +come to me."<!-- Page 27 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bowing slightly and smiling to hide his anger, he went out.</p> + +<p>Gregory turned again to his work, but found it hard to keep his mind +from the Italian's veiled threat. It angered him. Mascola had appeared +so sure of his ground. His irritation grew as his eye fell again on the +Lang contract. If he only had some one with whom he could talk. Some one +who knew something about fishing or running a cannery. Some one who +would understand what he was up against. His father evidently had few if +any confidants. If he had only left some written word.</p> + +<p>From the cannery came the sound of excited voices, a jargon of +unintelligible words. Gregory sprang to his feet and hurried out. He met +Mascola coming to meet him. Behind him trooped the alien laborers.</p> + +<p>The Italian stopped abruptly and threw out his arm with a dramatic +gesture. Pointing in the direction of the solitary soldier who stood +staring with open mouth, he said: "My men, they do not work with scabs, +Mr. Gregory. You let that man go, or they quit."</p> + +<p>"Let them quit."</p> + +<p>Gregory spoke quickly and tried to smile. Losing his temper would not +help matters. That wasn't business.</p> + +<p>Mascola spoke rapidly to the men in their own tongue, waving his arms +and rolling his eyes. Gregory noticed that every one seemed to be +getting excited.<!-- Page 28 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> With scowling faces, the alien laborers grouped +themselves about their leader and glared at the offending soldier and +his boss.</p> + +<p>Gregory checked a quick impulse forcibly to show Mascola the door. It +was the right of every man to refuse to work if the job was not to his +liking. There was, however, nothing to get excited over. He turned to +Mascola.</p> + +<p>"Tell your men to come into the office and get their money," he said.</p> + +<p>His quiet manner disappointed the Italian boss. He had hoped for a +scene. An argument at least. His men expected more of him than this. +Gregory had calmly turned his back upon him and was walking away. +Mascola could stand no more.</p> + +<p>"All right, Gregory," he called. "You go ahead and hire a scab crew. +Then you'll find out you're the same damn fool as your father."</p> + +<p>Gregory whirled. Mascola's hand leaped to his side, burying itself in +the folds of his shirt. Before he could bring it out, Kenneth Gregory +was upon him.</p> + +<p>His fist caught Mascola full on the chin. The Italian's head snapped +backward. His feet shot forward. He clutched at the air for support and +strove to regain his balance. Then he fell to the floor, rolled over +like a cat, and rebounded to his feet, snarling.</p> + +<p>Gregory heard a warning cry from Barnes: "Look out! He's got a knife."</p> + +<p>Barnes looked vainly about for a weapon as he ran to his employer's +assistance.<!-- Page 29 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>The laborers pressed closer, their brown hands fingering their belts, +their faces dark with passion. Hemmed in on every side by the scowling +aliens, Gregory took a step forward and stood waiting.</p> + +<p>Mascola advanced warily with peculiar sideling steps. His face was a +mottled gray save in one place where his chin was flecked with blood. +His left arm was extended guard-wise. His right was crooked loosely to +his side, fingers covered. He crouched low and gathered.</p> + +<p>Gregory measured the distance which separated him from the advancing +Italian. Faintly to his ears came the sound of creaking boards behind +him. Perhaps Mascola's men were pressing in from the rear. He dared not +look to see. His eyes were held by Mascola's crooked arm. That was what +he must grab and break.</p> + +<p>Mascola's dark eyes, shining with anger, flashed over Gregory's shoulder +to the door beyond. Then they widened with surprise. He stopped +suddenly. His extended arm drooped. For an instant he stood hesitating, +wavering. He took a step backward. His crooked arm unbent, dropped +slowly to his side.</p> + +<p>His eyes were held by the open door.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 30 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE WORK OF THEIR FATHERS</h3> + + +<p>"Drop it, Mascola."</p> + +<p>The sharp command drew the eyes of the laborers to the door and they +stopped fingering their knives. Shuffling closer together they looked to +their leader for guidance.</p> + +<p>Mascola's eyes darted about the floor, coming to rest upon a big vat +only a few feet away. For an instant he hesitated. A faint metallic +click from the doorway caused him to make up his mind. His body +straightened as his hands traveled upward to the level of his shoulders. +The palm of his right hand opened and a thin two-edged blade rattled to +the floor.</p> + +<p>Gregory took a step forward and shoved the knife away with his foot. +Keeping one eye fixed warily upon Mascola, he shot a glance over his +shoulder to determine the author of the interruption.</p> + +<p>He turned to see a trim little figure in loosely-fitting outing clothes +striding across the floor. Facing the light which streamed in from the +open door, he could not distinguish the newcomer's face. He only noted +the ease of the stranger's movements, the poise of the uptilted head and +the nervous manner with<!-- Page 31 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> which the Italians fell away before the +advancing figure.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>Gregory stared. It was a girl. She had turned into the light and was +facing him. As he formed an answer to her question he saw that her +sun-bronzed cheeks were flushed with red and her clear brown eyes were +looking into his inquiringly. In her hand she held an automatic +revolver.</p> + +<p>Gregory strove to make his explanation brief.</p> + +<p>"These men refused to work. I told them to go. Mascola and I had some +trouble. He drew his knife. Then you came."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded, dislodging a lock of red-gold hair from under her +knitted cap. Turning quickly to Mascola, she commanded: "Get out."</p> + +<p>Mascola made no sign that he intended to comply with the order. With +folded arms he looked insolently at the speaker.</p> + +<p>"When my men are paid, I will go. But first, I must have my knife."</p> + +<p>His eyes roved longingly in the direction of the dagger.</p> + +<p>The girl took a quick step backward and covered Mascola's waist-line +with the automatic.</p> + +<p>"You'll go now," she said. Turning to Gregory she added: "Tell him +you'll pay him down-town."</p> + +<p>Gregory picked up the Italian's knife before replying:<!-- Page 32 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll be at the bank at two," he said, making no move to comply with +Mascola's request for his weapon.</p> + +<p>Mascola clenched his hands. His face grew red with passion. For an +instant he glared from Gregory to the girl. Then the color faded. +Turning to his men he spoke rapidly to them in their own tongue. The +workmen retired sullenly and picking up their coats followed their +leader to the door. Mascola hesitated for a moment on the threshold. +Then, checking the angry threat which rose to his lips, he went out.</p> + +<p>Gregory watched him go in silence. Then he turned to the girl.</p> + +<p>"My name is Gregory," he said. "You happened along just about right for +me."</p> + +<p>The tense lines about the girl's mouth disappeared slowly as she passed +a small brown hand across her forehead and replaced a truant lock.</p> + +<p>"I am Dickie Lang," she announced simply. Shoving the automatic into her +coat pocket, she extended her hand. "I knew your father well. I am glad +to meet you."</p> + +<p>The frankness of the words was strengthened by the look of sincerity in +the brown eyes as she stood calmly looking him over.</p> + +<p>Gregory curbed his surprise with an effort which left him staring at the +girl in awkward silence. When he had thought of Lang's daughter at all, +it had been only in the most abstract way. He had regarded her only a +possible and very probable source of trouble,<!-- Page 33 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> scarcely as a flesh and +blood woman at all. Never a girl like this.</p> + +<p>He wakened to the fact that he was a very stupid host. Barnes, after +staring at Dickie Lang for a moment, had retired to his work, leaving +Gregory alone with his guest in the middle of the receiving floor.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come into the office?"</p> + +<p>The words came hesitatingly. He nodded in the direction of the +screen-door.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I would like to talk with you."</p> + +<p>Again the direct straightforward manner of speaking. Dickie Lang started +at once for the office, walking across the floor with quick impatient +steps. Gregory held the door open and as the girl brushed by him, he saw +her flash a glance to the door of his father's office beyond. He led the +way in silence to the room where he had been working and waited for his +visitor to be seated.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang's eyes roved swiftly about the room, taking in the familiar +details. Nothing had been changed. She could see her father leaning +against the desk, his great shoulders hunched forward, his big hands +nervously toying with the glass paper-weight, his blue eyes fixed upon +the silent figure in the swivel-chair. Again she could hear the voice of +Richard Gregory:</p> + +<p>"All right, Bill. I'll see you through. Go ahead and get the boats."<!-- Page 34 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dickie realized with a start that the square-jawed, black-eyed young man +before her was Richard Gregory's son. The past faded away. With simple +directness she plunged into the object of her visit.</p> + +<p>"I've brought the money due on the boats. Got into a squabble with the +markets and they tied me up for a few days. Otherwise I would have been +here sooner."</p> + +<p>Thrusting her hand into her pocket, she drew out a roll of bills and +began to count them.</p> + +<p>Gregory watched her as she thumbed the bank-notes. The dark brown +corduroy was simply, if mannishly cut, and in a way it became her. Her +small feet and rounded ankles would have appeared to better advantage in +high-heeled shoes and silk stockings than those blunt-nosed boots and +canvas leggings. And why in the name of common sense would any woman +with hair like that want to keep it tucked away under a close-fitting +cap? She would have been beautiful in—— He roused himself from his +examination of the girl's attire and strove to fix his mind on the +object of her visit. He reached for the receipt-book as she finished +counting the money.</p> + +<p>"Tenth payment," she exclaimed. "Five hundred. Makes twelve thousand +even. That right?"</p> + +<p>Gregory ran over the money, consulting his notebook to verify the +figures.</p> + +<p>"Right," he answered.</p> + +<p>While he wrote the receipt she studied him. So this was the man whom +Richard Gregory had desig<!-- Page 35 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>nated as a red-blooded American. The father's +praise of his absent son, she was forced to admit, had slightly +prejudiced her against the young man. No single individual could possess +all the sterling traits of character attributed to him by the late +cannery owner. That was impossible. He would fall down somewhere.</p> + +<p>Gregory handed the girl her receipt.</p> + +<p>"And now," he began, somewhat uncertain as to just how to proceed, "what +do you intend to do about the boats?"</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang paused in the act of folding the paper and looked up +quickly. For some reason she felt herself irritated by the question. Her +irritation crept into her voice as she answered:</p> + +<p>"I'm going to run them, of course."</p> + +<p>Gregory straightened in his chair and faced about.</p> + +<p>"You're going to run them?" he repeated. "You don't mean yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. What else would I do with them?" she asked coldly.</p> + +<p>The man was caught for the moment unawares by the suddenness of the +question.</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps you would want to sell them," he answered bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Why?" Her voice had a belligerent ring and he noticed that her eyes +were snapping. As he did not immediately reply, she flashed: "I know +why. It's because I'm a woman. You think I can't make good. Isn't that +it?"</p> + +<p>Gregory felt his cheeks burn at the feeling she<!-- Page 36 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> threw into her words. +He hadn't meant to make it quite so plain but if she insisted on the +truth, why not? Perhaps it was the best way.</p> + +<p>"You've guessed it," he answered slowly. "You may call it prejudice if +you like, but that is just the way I feel."</p> + +<p>Tapping the floor angrily with her foot, she interrupted:</p> + +<p>"It's worse than prejudice. It's just plain damn-foolishness. Honestly, +after all I've heard of you, I gave you credit for having more sense. +Your father wouldn't have said that. He believed there wasn't a thing in +the world a man or woman couldn't do, if they tried hard enough. And he +gave them the chance to make good. But I'll tell you right now, you've +got a lot to learn before you'll be able to wear his hat."</p> + +<p>Gregory sank deeper into his chair as Dickie Lang proceeded with his +arraignment. Nothing could be said until she was through. His silence +gave the girl a free rein to express her feelings.</p> + +<p>"You think I don't know my game because I'm a woman. Why, I've been on +the sea since I was a kid. If my father hadn't made me go to school, I +would have lived with him on the water. And don't you suppose in fishing +with a man like Bill Lang, a person learns something? Doesn't that more +than make up for the handicap of being a woman?"</p> + +<p>The young man waited for a chance to put in a<!-- Page 37 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> word but none came. +Becoming angrier each minute, she hurried on:</p> + +<p>"There isn't a man in Legonia but you who would have said that. Not even +Mascola. He hates me only because I do know my business. And you, a +stranger, come down here and tell me——"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say you didn't know your business," Gregory interjected as she +drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"No, but you thought it just the same. And what right have you to think +things like that? What do you know about things here? You never saw the +place until just a few weeks ago. And you've been gone ever since. I'll +bet you were never in a fish cannery before in your life. I'll bet right +now you don't know what you're going to do next. You're waiting for +Blair to get well and tell you. Suppose he doesn't. He's a mighty sick +man and it's a cinch if he does come back it won't be for a long time. +What are you going to do in the meantime besides tell me I don't——"</p> + +<p>Gregory held up his hand to check a further outburst.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said. "There is no use going on like this. Our fathers were +the best of friends. Why can't we be the same? I'm willing to admit +there is a lot of truth in what you say about my not knowing just what +I'm going to do right now. I didn't select the position I'm in, but I'm +going to make the best of things as they are and finish up the work +which was begun by my father. And I want to say right now that I'm going +to finish it.<!-- Page 38 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In a way," he went on slowly, "our positions are somewhat similar. We +each have a job to finish. I didn't think yours meant as much to you as +mine does to me, though of course I might have, if I hadn't been +thinking so much of myself. Our fathers worked together and got along +fine. It may be that we can do the same thing."</p> + +<p>The fire died slowly from the girl's eyes. In its place there came an +expression, more wistful perhaps than anything else. When she spoke +again the irritation was gone from her voice.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered. "There isn't any reason why we can't be friends. And +there are a lot of reasons why we should be. I'm willing to do my part +and I'll show you, Mr. Gregory, that I do know my business. It always +makes me mad when any one thinks I don't know the sea. When dad wanted +to tease me he always called me a 'land-lubber.' And even when a kid I +would always fight at that."</p> + +<p>She paused a moment. Then went on:</p> + +<p>"I'd like to do what I can for you for two reasons. Your father did a +lot for mine. He was one of my few friends. I'd like to give his son a +hand if it would help. In the second place, it is to my interest in a +business way to see your cannery succeed. It is a market for my fish. I +won't sell to the Golden Rule and the dealers won't pay the express on +canning fish. The sooner you start up the better it will be for me. I +can tell you right now you have a lot to do."<!-- Page 39 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again she paused and looked down at her feet. When she spoke again it +was with some hesitation.</p> + +<p>"If I were you I'd get hold of Jack McCoy. He can do more for you than +any one else. I wouldn't count too much on Blair. I heard from him this +morning and they didn't hold out much hope. He's completely run down and +that's the kind pneumonia hits hard."</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said. Then he asked: "McCoy was the foreman, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's still in town. Blair gave him a letter of recommendation but +Jack won't look for another job until he knows what Blair is going to +do. He says Blair taught him all he knows and he's going to stick to him +because he always treated him white."</p> + +<p>Gregory wrote McCoy's address which the girl supplied and she continued:</p> + +<p>"One of the first things to be done, of course, will be to go all over +the machinery. That won't take long. Then the supplies and material will +have to be checked over and the new stuff ordered. That will take a week +for two men."</p> + +<p>Gregory looked at the girl with more respect. Apparently she knew +something of his business as well as her own. Doubtless her association +with her father had brought her into close touch with the cannery. As +she went on, Dickie Lang divulged the source of her information.<!-- Page 40 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Jack and I have talked you over a lot," she said soberly. "We are both +anxious to see you get going."</p> + +<p>While she talked on concerning the re-opening of the cannery, Gregory +wondered to what extent her opinion of McCoy's ability was based by +personal prejudice. Of course it was nothing to him what Dickie Lang +thought of McCoy or of himself either, for that matter. He decided to +look McCoy up at once.</p> + +<p>"Then you have to get your labor," she went on. "And that isn't as easy, +I have found, as it seems. You see Mascola has the bulge on the labor +situation around here. He has the riff-raff of the world on his +pay-roll. They speak in a dozen different languages. Everything +almost—but English. They are practically all aliens and there is +nothing they won't do to keep a decent man out. Blair had hard work to +get a crew, I know, and harder work to keep it. He was always hiring and +firing. Things would go all right for a while. Then there would come a +row with Mascola's outfit and a lot of the boys would get disgusted and +leave."</p> + +<p>Gregory interrupted:</p> + +<p>"I understand from my father's attorney, that one of the biggest things +he had to contend with was the matter of getting fish."</p> + +<p>"I'm coming to that in a minute. Let's finish up the labor question +while we're on it. You've got to get a certain number of skilled men who +can handle the machines. With a few others who have worked in<!-- Page 41 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> a fish +cannery you can go ahead, for the biggest percentage of your labor is +unskilled anyway and has to be broken in. Men like that are the hardest +to get," she concluded, "they are mostly tramps. Here to-day and gone +to-morrow. You can't depend on them. If you can get a bunch to stick, +you're mighty lucky."</p> + +<p>She paused and moved her chair nearer. Then she broached the important +subject.</p> + +<p>"About the fish, you can do one of three things. Or rather two things," +she corrected, "for I hardly think you'll tie up with Mascola. You can +fix up your own boats, try to man them and get your own fish. You have +twenty-five boats. That's not enough even if they were all in good +shape, which they're not."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by trying to man my boats?"</p> + +<p>The girl smiled.</p> + +<p>"Just what I say," she answered. "Fishermen are scarce. My father was in +business here for twenty years and most of the time he was running +short-handed. You can get plenty of men to ride on your boats but they +are not fishermen."</p> + +<p>Noting the direction in which the conversation was drifting, Gregory +resolved to hasten the climax.</p> + +<p>"Do you think you could furnish me with enough fish?" he asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I don't think anything about it. I know I could."</p> + +<p>"How do you know it?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated as she cast about in her active brain for a tangible +argument to convince the obstinate, square-jawed man before her. Of +course she could<!-- Page 42 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> get him the fish. But how could she make him believe +it?</p> + +<p>"My fishermen know the coast for one thing," she began. "That's a whole +lot around here. It's a treacherous shore-line and a man who doesn't +know it can lose a boat mighty easy. Then, I have ten new boats, just +the kind you have to have for albacore and tuna. As a general rule +you've got to go way out to sea to get them. Sometimes as far as Diablo. +And that means trouble. If you've ever been out to that God-forsaken +island you'll understand that it takes real men and boats. I have both."</p> + +<p>Gregory said nothing, but waited for the girl to finish:</p> + +<p>"I know my game," she concluded, with no spirit of bravado, but merely +as if it was only a plain statement of fact. "My men are used to holding +their own against Mascola. And I can tell you that is worth a lot."</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded. Then he said quietly:</p> + +<p>"Your father was never able to supply mine with enough fish to keep this +cannery going. Isn't that right?"</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang was forced to admit the truth of the statement. Then she +qualified: "He hadn't had the big boats but a few months and they had a +run of bad luck from the start."</p> + +<p>Gregory considered her words carefully.</p> + +<p>"Would you be willing to enter into a contract with me to keep the +cannery supplied with fish?" he<!-- Page 43 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> asked, watching her closely. For the +first time he saw her show signs of receding from her original position.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang hesitated. Her fear of legal entanglements was hereditary. +Bill Lang had settled his differences out of court and had warned his +daughter on more than one occasion of the dangers which lurked in a +contract. She shook her head. What did she know of this man, save the +fact that he bore his father's name?</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, feeling, however, that she had weakened her previous +statement by refusing to make it legally binding.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>The girl realized that their positions were becoming reversed. It was +she now who was on the defensive.</p> + +<p>"Because," she answered slowly, "I wouldn't." Ashamed that she had given +the proverbial reason for feminine change of mind, she added quickly: +"You see you may be all right. And then again you may not. I'd like a +chance to size you up first."</p> + +<p>Gregory smiled. "That was what I thought about you at the beginning of +our talk," he said. His face became instantly serious. "We'll just have +to size each other up before we can actually get down to cases. Isn't +that the truth?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "Yes. You think I can't make good."</p> + +<p>"And you just don't know about me," Gregory<!-- Page 44 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> finished for her. Then he +added: "How are we going to find out about each other?"</p> + +<p>Dickie regarded him gravely.</p> + +<p>"The ocean is the best test for a man or a woman that I know. It doesn't +play any favorites. When a girl goes out there all 'dolled-up' it washes +off the paint and powder and shows her up for just what she is. And it +shows a man up too. It's always waiting for him to make some mistake. +When he does, he has to think and act at the same time. He can't hedge +or make excuses. He's got to pay or play. A quitter has no chance with +the sea."</p> + +<p>Observing him closely, she concluded: "I could tell more about you on +the sea in a minute than I could find out in here in a month."</p> + +<p>"And I could find out whether or not I thought you knew your business."</p> + +<p>They laughed together.</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready any time."</p> + +<p>Dickie was on her feet at his words.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning then, at four o'clock. Meet me at our dock and I'll +show you I know what I'm talking about."</p> + +<p>Gregory promised and the girl hurried out.</p> + +<p>For some time the young cannery owner scratched busily at the pad of +paper before him, jotting down the substance of his interview with +Dickie Lang. Passing through the cannery he came upon the solitary +remnant of his floor force whom he had forgotten for the time being.<!-- Page 45 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm going down-town for a few minutes, Barnes. If anybody asks for me, +tell them I'll be back in half an hour."</p> + +<p>The ex-soldier's eyes brightened at the sight of his employer.</p> + +<p>"Say, Mr. Gregory, you took me on quick and stayed by me, and I don't +want you to think I don't appreciate it, for I do. Now that you've +canned the other gang, I wonder if there'd be any chance for a couple of +my pals. We've been drifting around together and their shoes is worn out +same as mine."</p> + +<p>"What can they do?"</p> + +<p>"One of them's a chauffeur. He ain't afraid of nothin'. And he can drive +anything on wheels. The other one's a steam-fitter by trade, but he'll +be glad to nurse a broom or anything else right now."</p> + +<p>Gregory was on the point of telling Barnes to wait until he had +conferred with McCoy when he noticed the peculiar manner with which his +employee held his broom.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with your arm?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Barnes tapped the member in question and regarded him somewhat +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Nothin'," he said.</p> + +<p>Gregory stepped nearer and examined the shoulder carefully.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me your arm had been hurt?" he asked in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>Barnes met his eyes squarely.<!-- Page 46 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because I was afraid it would queer me for a job," he said. "You see, +Gregory, when a man hires a fellow he figures he's all there. He kind of +rents him all over and when he's shy on somethin', he kind of figures +the fellow's holding back on him. I didn't want to slip anything over on +you. Because you were white to me from the start. But I was afraid when +you saw my pin was faked you might change your mind."</p> + +<p>Gregory's eyes were fixed intently on the soldier as he went on:</p> + +<p>"You see I got my insurance. But that ain't enough. My old man died +while I was away. And my mother ain't any too well. So I just lets her +have the money. But that ain't all there is to it. You see when a +fellow's worked and hit the ball, he don't want to lay round and loaf."</p> + +<p>Still Gregory said nothing, and Barnes, misconstruing his silence, +continued:</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful what a fellow can do with what the doctors leave him +when they get through cuttin'. You ought to go up to Port Angeles and +see what the Bureau's teaching the poor blind devils. It kind of seems +like their eyes goes into their arms and legs, for they can do more with +them now than they ever thought of doing before they lost their lamps."</p> + +<p>He extended his good arm and flexed the muscles until they stood out +like lumps of whip-cord. "Look at that," he exclaimed. "They's twice the +pep in that one since they hacked up the other one. You don't need to be +afraid of me not doing a day's work. I——"<!-- Page 47 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are there many of the boys out of work?" Gregory found his voice at +last.</p> + +<p>Barnes nodded.</p> + +<p>"Scads of 'em. Some of them went back to their old jobs. Some of them +found 'em gone and they was others that couldn't cut it like they used +to. The government's tryin' to land 'em all jobs. But it's slow."</p> + +<p>Gregory turned slowly about and retraced his steps in the direction of +the office. Then he remembered Barnes's request.</p> + +<p>"You can tell your friends to come along," he said.</p> + +<p>Barnes ran after him.</p> + +<p>"Say," he exclaimed, "I forgot to tell you. One of 'em's leg's a little +stiff and the other one's shy an eye."</p> + +<p>Gregory whirled about.</p> + +<p>"They've got brains and hearts left, haven't they?" he challenged. "Tell +them to come along."</p> + +<p>Walking rapidly to the office he entered and closed the door. When +Barnes came in at quitting time the room was thick with smoke. In the +center of the smoke-screen Gregory sat at a small table, hammering away +at a typewriter. On a near-by chair, the ex-soldier caught a glimpse of +a colored poster, glaringly captioned:</p> + +<p class="center">JOBS FOR SOLDIERS</p> + +<p>Shutting the door softly behind him he withdrew, smiling to himself.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 48 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE WAY OF THE GULL</h3> + + +<p>Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r.</p> + +<p>The alarm-clock announced the hour imperiously, triumphantly, the +importance of the day being manifest in its resonant warning.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory leaped from his bed and hastily donned a brand-new suit +of overalls. A young man's first business engagement was not lightly to +be passed over. Particularly when it promised a chance for excitement +and new adventure. He dressed quickly and hurried out into the street. +With difficulty he stumbled through the dark streets and groped his way +along the water-front to the Lang wharf. All about him was darkness, +opaque and impenetrable.</p> + +<p>"You're early."</p> + +<p>Gregory found himself blinking into the white light of an electric +torch. By his side stood Dickie Lang.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "Wasn't sure whether my clock was right so I set it +half an hour ahead."</p> + +<p>Still holding him in the rays of the light, the girl examined him +critically.</p> + +<p>"All right but your shoes," she announced. "You'll break your neck in +those leather soles. I'll see if I can rustle a pair of tennis-shoes."<!-- Page 49 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>She vanished suddenly and a moment later he saw her light fall upon the +burly figures of three <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'bare-booted'">bare-footed</ins> fishermen shuffling along the dock. +She greeted the men familiarly.</p> + +<p>"Got that coil for you, Tom. Cache it this time where those thieving +devils won't beat you to it. Coils are hard to get right now. Bill, +you'd better run down Lucas way and scout around for barracuda. They +were beginning to hit in there strong this time last year. How's the +baby? I phoned to town last night for that medicine I told you about. +They said they'd shoot it out on the first mail."</p> + +<p>As she spoke Gregory saw other shadows draw near and hover for a moment +in the circle of light. From the hillside above the town lights gleamed +from the windows of the fishing colony, the intervening spaces of +darkness narrowing second by second until the village stood out like a +great checker-board of lights and shadows. Against the background of +lights he could see the slender figure of the girl passing among the +huge fishermen who towered like giants above her. Radiating energy +wherever she went, criticizing some, commending others and joking away +the early-morning grouch, she directed the movements of the constantly +increasing stream of men who thronged the dock and despatched the boats +one by one into the darkness.</p> + +<p>When she returned to Gregory's side for a moment she held in her hand a +tattered pair of rubber-soled shoes. "They're better than nothing," she +explained.<!-- Page 50 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> "When you are a full-fledged fisherman you won't need shoes. +You'll get so you can use your toes like fingers and——"</p> + +<p>The rays of her flash-light, which swept the wharf as she spoke, +suddenly brought into view the figure of a man lunging unsteadily along +the dock. Leaving her sentence unfinished, she was by his side in an +instant.</p> + +<p>"Nothing doing, Jack. Go home and go to bed. I know all about your +wife's sick aunt. No time to listen now. If you're sober by afternoon +you can go out with the boys drifting."</p> + +<p>The fisherman started to expostulate but she had already left him. +Mumbling that she didn't know what sickness was, he stumbled obediently +away in the direction of the shore.</p> + +<p>"He's been drunk since Tuesday," she announced as she rejoined Gregory. +"Too bad, too. Best man I've got in shallow water. You ought to see him +handle a dory in the surf."</p> + +<p>Again the light picked out a newcomer who stood hesitating a few feet +away. "What's the trouble, Pete? Why aren't you on the job?"</p> + +<p>"I've got to have more money." The words were spoken boldly and in a +tone which drew the attention of all about. A number of fishermen +shuffled nearer the speaker and ranged themselves beyond the circle of +light within easy hearing distance.</p> + +<p>"You want more money," Dickie Lang repeated slowly. "Well about the only +reason I could ever<!-- Page 51 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> think of for paying you any more would be for your +nerve in asking for it. Why, I've lost more through your carelessness +since you've been on the job than I could make on you in six months. The +first shot out of the box you let a piece of barracuda-webbing go adrift +and Mascola's gang picked it up right before your eyes and you never +cheeped. Then you put one of my motors on the blink because you were too +lazy to watch the oil-feed. Where do you think I get off? How long could +I run this outfit if all my men were like you? Take a brace and come +alive, Pete. That's the way to get more money out of me or any one else. +The harder you hit the ball the more you'll get. I don't want to hog it +all. The boys will tell you I shoot square."</p> + +<p>The fisherman slunk sullenly away and joined his companions. Dickie Lang +turned again to Gregory.</p> + +<p>"That's one of the things I'm up against," she exclaimed in a low voice. +"That fellow is a regular agitator. Talking is his long suit. Why, he +didn't even know how to throw a bowline when he hit in here, flat broke +and down on his uppers. I've taught him all he knows. And now he's +trying to start something. If men weren't so scarce I'd can him in a +minute."</p> + +<p>Gregory watched the fleet embark, marveling at the manner in which the +burly fishermen took orders from a mere slip of a girl. How it must go +against their grain, he thought, to be bossed about by a woman.<!-- Page 52 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> The +last of the boats had cleared before the youthful commodore prepared to +follow.</p> + +<p>"Let's go," she exclaimed impatiently. "We're late now. Mascola's outfit +cleared two hours ago."</p> + +<p>Leading the way she took Gregory aboard a small fishing vessel which +waited at the float below. The motor started the instant their feet +touched the deck and a gruff voice growled:</p> + +<p>"We've got to go some to make the point by daybreak."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded to the dark form at the wheel.</p> + +<p>"You said it, Tom. Mascola's gang are mighty near down there by now."</p> + +<p>She cast off the lines and jumped again to the boat as the little craft +backed from the slip and headed down the bay. While the boat gained +headway under the rapid pulse of the powerful motor, she explained:</p> + +<p>"Got a string of nets off Long Point. Just put them out yesterday. But +I've a pretty good idea we'll load up. That is unless Mascola tries to +sew us up. One of his fishing captains was cruising round last night +when I left the set."</p> + +<p>"But if you had your nets out first," Gregory began.</p> + +<p>A low laugh from the girl interrupted him. "You don't know how Mascola +does business," she said. "Listen, I'll tell you. Did you ever notice +them throw garbage overboard from the deck of a steamer and see one lone +gull flying in her wake? The minute he squawks and swoops down to pick +it up there's a hun<!-- Page 53 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>dred of them come from all points of the compass to +fight it out with him for the spoils. Well, Mascola's men are just like +that. We may spot the fish first. We generally do. But that doesn't make +the slightest bit of difference to Mascola. It only saves him the +trouble. When our nets are out and he sees we're getting a good haul, he +lays around us and cuts us off. Do you get the idea?"</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded vaguely.</p> + +<p>"But can't you do something?" he asked. "I should think——"</p> + +<p>Again the girl laughed. "You bet I can do something," she snapped. "You +just watch me. That's what I brought you out here for this morning. If +those devils try to lay around me, I'll show them a thing or two. I wish +we had an earlier start though," she concluded. "They've got the best of +it by a couple of hours."</p> + +<p>Through the darkness they raced to the open sea. The cool morning breeze +blew briskly in their faces and Gregory noticed they were overhauling a +few of the stragglers.</p> + +<p>"It oughtn't to take you long to catch up with them at this clip," he +said admiringly. "Are all of your boats as fast as this one?"</p> + +<p>"If they were it would break me up," the girl answered. "The <i>Petrel's</i> +my flag ship. She's a gas-hog, but she can travel. She has fifty horse, +and built on the lines she is, there aren't many of them around here +that can make her run in their wake.<!-- Page 54 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> Only two in fact," she added. +"Mascola's speed-boat and Rossi's fleet-tender."</p> + +<p>"Who is Rossi?"</p> + +<p>"Mascola's fishing captain. Next to his boss and old Rock, one of the +biggest crooks in town. He knows his business though," she supplemented +half-admiringly, "and is a good man for Mascola."</p> + +<p>"Who's Rock?" asked Gregory.</p> + +<p>The girl faced about suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Rock's the big man of a little town. He's in everything. The further +you go without meeting with him the better off you'll be. He's president +of the bank, the Rock Commercial Company and several other concerns. He +owns the controlling interest in the Golden Rule Cannery besides. He has +a finger in everything. He's a mighty busy man. But he's never too busy +to meddle with other people's business. At least he tried to in mine."</p> + +<p>Her teeth snapped in a vicious click.</p> + +<p>A number of questions crowded to Gregory's mind, as they crossed the +jettied inlet and headed down the coast. He asked them in rapid-fire +order.</p> + +<p>"How many boats have you?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five. Using sixteen to-day."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you run them all?"</p> + +<p>"Can't get the men. That is, good ones. I'm hiring and firing all the +time. Paying thirty-eight now and that leaves me short-handed even with +the boats I'm working."</p> + +<p>"How many boats has Mascola?"<!-- Page 55 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl was silent for a moment. Then she answered:</p> + +<p>"Can't say. Somewhere about fifty, maybe more. It's hard to check him +up. His boats cruise a long way out and some of them don't put in to +Legonia at all."</p> + +<p>"What kind of fish are you catching now?"</p> + +<p>"Halibut mostly, some barracuda. Haven't tried for sardines or albacore +since your cannery shut down."</p> + +<p>The <i>Petrel</i> rolled lazily in the trough of the swell as she sped down +the coast. Suddenly the darkness ahead was blurred by an indistinct +shape and the man at the wheel put the vessel over sharply. As he did so +he narrowly escaped a collision with an unlighted boat which loomed +directly across their bow.</p> + +<p>"Trawler fishing within the three-mile limit without lights," the girl +explained to her passenger.</p> + +<p>Gregory remembered Dickie Lang's words concerning alien interference. He +knew that running without lights was illegal. Why was the law not +enforced?</p> + +<p>In answer to his question, the girl burst out: "You just wait. I +couldn't take the time now to tell you of all the laws Mascola breaks +and if I did you wouldn't believe me."</p> + +<p>"How can he get by with it?" Gregory asked.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang walked to the rail and searched the dark water in the +direction of the shore before she replied: "There are three different +kinds of laws out here. The navigation laws are made by the government, +the fishing laws by the state, and the law of the<!-- Page 56 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> sea is made by the +fishermen. If you break the pilot-rules they'll haul you up before the +local inspector at Port Angeles and fine you, take away your license or +put you in jail. But they've got to have the proof and that is hard to +get. If you break the state's laws you run up against the fish +commissioner. His deputies do their best to protect the fish and see +that the fishermen use the right kind of gear. If they catch an outfit +with the goods, they put them over. But it's hard to do."</p> + +<p>She stared away into the faintly graying darkness.</p> + +<p>"Cut through the kelp, Tom. It will save us a little and we're going to +need it."</p> + +<p>"And the fisherman's law you spoke about. What is that?" Gregory +queried.</p> + +<p>She faced him suddenly. "I don't know how to explain it," she said. +"Every one has to learn it for himself. It's the law of the biggest and +fastest boat. The law of the longest and strongest arm. The law of sand +and a quick trigger."</p> + +<p>Gregory felt his pulse quicken as she went on:</p> + +<p>"You see we have to depend on ourselves out here to settle our troubles. +Whatever happens, happens quick. Generally there are not many witnesses. +If you knew trouble was coming, you might get a deputy to come out, but +the chances are ten to one they wouldn't. They would say it was only a +fisherman's row and tell you to swear out a warrant. And if you go to +law, Mascola will bring five witnesses for each<!-- Page 57 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> of yours and they'll +outswear you every time for they can lie faster than a man can write it +down."</p> + +<p>Again she paused and searched the gray border of the receding curtain of +night. Far away Gregory could hear the roar of the breakers. From out +the gray dusk ahead appeared the shadowy outline of a rugged promontory +jutting far out into the sea.</p> + +<p>"Keep close in, Tom. Our last string's dead ahead, off Peeble Beach. +When you get around the point swing on the outside of Coward Rocks and +give her all she'll stand."</p> + +<p>She walked slowly about the deck with her eyes fixed on the wave-washed +shore-line.</p> + +<p>"So you see each outfit makes its own laws and it's up to them to +enforce them. Our law is to mind our own business and get the fish. The +only law we break is Mascola's. He tries to tell us where to fish. He +bullies the ones he can and fights the ones he can't in any way that is +easiest and safest. He's a thief and a crook and he'd commit murder in a +minute if he thought he could get by with it."</p> + +<p>The idea lodged in her brain. She leaned closer and exclaimed in a low +voice: "And how do we know he doesn't get by with murder the way he does +with everything else? There's many a man picked up along the coast as a +'floater' that nobody knows how he drowned."</p> + +<p>Daybreak was upon them as they hugged the shore-line and slipped into +the protecting shadow of Long Point. Dickie Lang's words sank deep into +Gregory's<!-- Page 58 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> consciousness. A half-formed question found its way at last +to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," he began, but was interrupted by the man at the wheel.</p> + +<p>"Can't make the inside channel. Have to go round."</p> + +<p>He altered the helm as he spoke. Dickie Lang jumped to his side.</p> + +<p>"We've got to run the short-cut, Tom. No use going round. They'd spot us +a mile away in this light. If they're laying round my nets I want to +surprise them. I'll take the boat."</p> + +<p>The fisherman surrendered the wheel and sidled out of the way.</p> + +<p>"She's your boat," he said with blunt emphasis. "But don't forget it's +my license. I wouldn't take the chance."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded. "My license is hanging up in the engine-room," she +retorted. "If anything happens, it's me that is responsible. I won't +forget."</p> + +<p>She spun the wheel over as she spoke and the <i>Petrel</i> swerved like a +gull and headed straight for the rugged cliff which towered high above +the foaming water, bold and defiant of the angry waves which dashed +relentlessly at its base.</p> + +<p>Off the port bow Gregory saw a narrow pathway of quiet water fringed on +one side by white-toothed swells, on the other by the barnacled feet of +the point itself. He leaned over the rail and followed the course of the +ribbon-like path which wound like a snake<!-- Page 59 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> among the curling waves and +jagged rocks. Could that be the channel the girl meant to take?</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang's eyes were fixed with his upon the devious waterway. The +hand which held the wheel was steady and the <i>Petrel</i> plunged boldly on +as if bent upon flinging its fragile shell upon the time-defying rocks +of Long Point.</p> + +<p>Gregory measured the distance to the overhanging ledge. What was the use +of taking such a chance as this? It looked like one in a million. In +another minute they would pile up. They were almost abreast of the +thread-like channel when he saw the fingers on the wheel tighten. The +steering gear whirred and the <i>Petrel</i> leaped forward to answer the +master-hand at the helm.</p> + +<p>Then came the miracle.</p> + +<p>The slim bow of the little craft swung about. For a second she wallowed +in the trough of the ground-swell, rose high on its foaming crest and +nestled slowly down in the quiet water of the rock-bound channel. And +the distance to safety had been gained by the scant margin of only a few +inches. A sharper or blunter turn would have ripped the vessel from bow +to stern. Was it luck? He shook his head slowly. Then he began to +understand why the fishermen took orders from Dickie Lang. He was +recalled to himself by a laughing voice and he saw that the girl's eyes +were sparkling, as she said without turning her head:</p> + +<p>"Did you think you were going to have to swim ashore?"<!-- Page 60 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory laughed. "I could feel the water about my ears," he said. Then +he added: "Do you do stunts like that often?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "Sometimes it is necessary to take a chance," she +answered. "You've got to catch Mascola's bunch red-handed. When we round +the 'bull-nose' we'll be right on top of our nets."</p> + +<p>Her lips were firmly compressed and the little lines which suddenly +appeared about her mouth were hard. With her eyes still held by the +barnacled rocks, she snapped: "Then you may see something."</p> + +<p>They were nearing the end of Long Point. Throttling the throbbing motor +until its soft breathing could be heard only a few boat-lengths, she +nodded to the fisherman:</p> + +<p>"All right, Tom. She's yours. Plenty of water from here on. When you +round 'bull-nose' head for the cove with all you've got."</p> + +<p>Relieved from the wheel she dodged into the engine-room and returned +with two rifles. Flashing a glance shoreward to determine the <i>Petrel's</i> +position she rejoined Gregory and handed him one of the guns. Gregory +reached eagerly for the weapon. For the past hour he had been forced to +sit by a spectator. Now was a chance to do something. To play a game he +knew. His fingers caressed the stock of the Winchester as the girl +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Don't suppose there is any use telling you how to shoot. Only at sea +things are a little different. You have to count on the roll. Sight full +until you get on<!-- Page 61 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> the range. Distances are deceiving on the water. Pull +on the slow rise if you can. That's when she's steadiest."</p> + +<p>He noted her quiet manner of speaking and the businesslike way with +which she handled her gun. What she meant for him to do he did not +clearly understand. Whatever it was, she would find him ready. He +slipped a shell into the barrel from the magazine, and waited. He +noticed that the girl was watching him closely as they came to the end +of the winding channel. Then she gave him brief instructions.</p> + +<p>"When we pass that big rock ahead we'll head in. Then you will see a +string of nets. You may see two strings, one laid around the other. If +any of Mascola's gang are hanging around I'm going to try to persuade +them to give me sea-way."</p> + +<p>She set her lips grimly and tapped the rifle. Drawing a pair of +binocular-glasses from her pocket she focused them carefully.</p> + +<p>"Don't shoot until I do. If they are trying to lay around I'll open up +on them and start them moving. Aim at the water-line and pump away as +fast as you like. All right, Tom. Give her the gun."</p> + +<p>The <i>Petrel</i> leaped under the advancing throttle and raced for the +curiously fashioned nub at the cliff's end.</p> + +<p>Gregory crowded forward, striving to catch a glimpse of the water +beyond. As they flashed by the "bull-nose" she saw silhouetted against +the brightening light which streamed across the water from the beach,<!-- Page 62 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +the sharp outline of a fishing-boat. Then he heard a low exclamation +from the girl.</p> + +<p>"He's laid around my string," she gritted, and again the glasses flashed +to her eyes. She whirled on the fisherman. "Look at that, Tom! He's +stripping my nets. I've got him with the goods this time and, so help me +God, I'm going to make him pay. Don't shoot," she cautioned Gregory. +"Wait till we get closer. I want to get him with the deadwood. Wide +open, Tom, we'll run him off his legs. I'll——"</p> + +<p>A puff of white smoke drifted upward from the deck of the launch ahead +and floated lazily above the rigging. Some fifty feet beyond the port +bow of the <i>Petrel</i> the water leaped upward in a tiny spout. Dickie's +rifle sounded in Gregory's ear and the report of his own prolonged the +echoes. As he pumped in another cartridge he noted that the girl's eyes +were shining and her red lips were parted in a smile. Between shots he +heard her mutter:</p> + +<p>"Can you beat that? The dirty robbers are going to stay and fight?"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 63 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE LAW OF THE FISHERMEN</h3> + + +<p>Her decks spouting flame, the <i>Petrel</i> raced on to meet the enemy. +Gregory crowded close to the rail and dropped to his knee. The girl was +right about the roll. He shoved the rifle through a cross-stay, sighted +carefully and pulled the trigger.</p> + +<p>"I have the system now," he called.</p> + +<p>She nodded. "That's the stuff. Aim for the engine-house. They're +shooting from the ports."</p> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="./images/image-2.jpg"> +<img src="./images/image-2_th.jpg" alt='"Aim for the engine-house!"' title='"Aim for the engine-house!"' /> +</a></p> +<p class="figcenter">"Aim for the engine-house!"</p> + +<p>The bullets from the alien craft were flying wide. The fusillade from +the <i>Petrel</i> was evidently interfering with the enemy's marksmanship.</p> + +<p>"No expert riflemen there," Gregory commented.</p> + +<p>Dickie shook her head. "A knife's their long suit," she answered. "I +never saw them shoot much before. Don't believe they——"</p> + +<p>A jingle of breaking glass interrupted her and the starboard side-lamp +toppled from the bracket and crashed to the deck.</p> + +<p>"Get down," Gregory commanded. "They're getting the range."</p> + +<p>The girl smiled and wiped away the blood which spurted from a small cut +in her cheek. "Just fool<!-- Page 64 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> luck," she answered, leaning coolly against +the stays and reloading her rifle. "That was only an accident."</p> + +<p>Gregory was by her side in an instant. Grasping her roughly by the arm +he said harshly: "Get down, I tell you."</p> + +<p>She jerked away her arm and started to speak. Then she dropped to the +deck.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're right at that," she admitted, a smile playing about her +lips.</p> + +<p>The firing became brisker as the distance lessened between the two +boats, while the enemy bullets became wilder and more desultory. Dickie +ceased firing and turned to the man at the wheel.</p> + +<p>"It's Rossi with the <i>Roma</i>. He's getting under way."</p> + +<p>She flung out an arm pointing in the direction of the stubby-nosed point +which lay across the little bay. "Head for the arch, Tom. We'll cut him +off." Pointing to the fleeing boat she explained to Gregory: "He's +almost in shoal water right now. To get out he's got to follow the +channel. It's dead low tide and he'll have to make a big bend to get +out. We'll cut across and head him off. He has the speed of us and a +quarter of a mile lead. But he has farther to go. If he opens up he's +liable to pile up on the rocks. It's about an even bet he'll make it for +he's clever. But if he does we'll be right on top of him when he comes +out. Then I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry."</p> + +<p>The <i>Petrel</i> altered her course while she was speak<!-- Page 65 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>ing and sped off at +a tangent. The <i>Roma</i>, dashing shoreward, turned and angled sharply, +running parallel to her pursuer.</p> + +<p>"He's sure pounding her," the girl observed as she noted the increasing +distance which separated the two boats. "If he holds that clip when he +comes to that figure S channel, he'll never make the turns." She shut +her jaw tighter. "Cut in a little closer, Tom," she ordered. "We'll make +him take all the chances there are."</p> + +<p>Gregory climbed to the top of the engine-house and watched the <i>Roma</i> +dodging among the rocks like a frightened rabbit. Dickie Lang was poised +in the bow like a figurehead, one foot resting on the rail. Her hair, +jerked from her cap by the fingers of the dawn-wind, streamed out behind +her in a shower of dull red gold. Her eyes were shining with the joy of +the chase.</p> + +<p>"He's almost at the turn," she called back. "He'll never make it on an +outgoing tide. He's got to slow up. If he does, we've got him. If he +doesn't——"</p> + +<p>She was interrupted by a muffled exclamation from the man at the wheel. +The <i>Roma's</i> bow was rising from the water. For an instant she planed +like a high-powered racing-boat. Then, as if exhausted by the chase, she +settled slowly to rest in the white water, her masts angling sharply +toward the beach.</p> + +<p>"High and dry on mussel rocks," Dickie Lang announced. "It's a flood +tide to-day and with the big ground swell she hasn't a chance."<!-- Page 66 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>As they neared the wreck they saw the crew of the stranded vessel +huddled together on the sloping deck.</p> + +<p>"Don't go in any closer, Tom," cautioned the girl. "The tide's turning. +They can wade ashore and watch her break up."</p> + +<p>As they circled closer to make the turn, Gregory noticed a red-shirted +giant leap from the wreck of the fishing-boat into the shallow water, +waving his arms wildly about his head. But the noise of the <i>Petrel's</i> +motor drowned the voice of the infuriated fishing captain and his +threats and curses were heard only by his own crew.</p> + +<p>"It isn't Rossi, after all," Dickie observed as she caught sight of the +red-shirted figure. "It's Boris, the crazy Russian. I never knew Mascola +to trust him with a boat like the <i>Roma</i> before."</p> + +<p>The <i>Petrel</i> turned about and, burying her nose in the big swells, made +haste to leave the dangerous water.</p> + +<p>"Head for the nets," the girl ordered. "I'm not through with Mascola +yet. He has my fish on the <i>Roma</i>. If I had a dory I'd go in there and +get them. But it isn't good enough to risk the <i>Petrel</i>."</p> + +<p>As they came nearer the two strings of nets, Dickie explained: "I'm +going to work the same game on Mascola that the fish commissioner does +when he catches them trawling within the three-mile limit. I'm going to +salvage his nets and make him pay for his crooked work to get his +property. Lay to, Tom, and we'll pull them aboard with mine."<!-- Page 67 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>The fisherman drew alongside the row of bobbing corks with a grim smile +playing about his lips.</p> + +<p>"Have to rustle," he observed. "You know how Mascola's boats follow up."</p> + +<p>The girl tossed her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't care if his whole fleet comes along. And him with them. I'm +going to make him pay me for those fish Boris stole from my nets. I +can't take it into court but——"</p> + +<p>She paused in the middle of her sentence as her eyes swept the sea. +Focusing the binoculars on a small <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'speak'">speck</ins> on the horizon, she announced: +"Here comes Mascola now in his speed-boat. We'll haul them aboard, boys. +Then I'll talk business with the dago. Get his nets first."</p> + +<p>Falling to eagerly, Gregory received his first lesson in pulling the +nets. With straining back and smarting fingers he worked by the +fisherman's side hauling the heavy webbing to the deck. As they reached +the middle of the string the weight of the sagging nets increased and a +number of glistening barracuda floundered from the water, gilled by the +strong mesh. The girl observed the fish with darkening brow.</p> + +<p>"The dirty robbers," she exclaimed wrathfully. "Look what they have +already. I'll bet I'd have had a good haul if they had let me alone."</p> + +<p>Gregory noticed as he straightened up that the distant speck on the +water was fast assuming the proportions of a motor-launch. He noticed +too that the approaching craft was coming at a high rate of speed<!-- Page 68 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> and +was swerving shoreward. Tugging harder at the nets, he worked doggedly +on, listening to the staccato bark of the speed-craft as Mascola drew +close. They were hauling at the last string when he came within hailing +distance.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" he called. "You're pulling my nets."</p> + +<p>"Don't pay any attention to him," admonished Dickie Lang. "I'm not going +to hollow my head off. Keep working and wait until he comes alongside."</p> + +<p>With his motor purring like an angry cat, Mascola whirled his craft +about in a wave-washed circle and drew abreast of the <i>Petrel</i>. At the +same instant Gregory and the fisherman lifted the last piece of the +Italian's nets to the deck. Gregory straightened his aching back and +looked toward the early morning visitor, but his eyes did not get as far +as Mascola. They remained riveted on the launch.</p> + +<p>Never had he seen such a boat. She poised on the waves like a gull, +quivering with potential energy, ready for instant flight. From her +sharply V-ed bow to her delicately molded stern, every line of the trim +craft spoke eloquently of the plan of a master-designer who fashioned +her with a single purpose—speed.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter I say? You're pulling my nets."</p> + +<p>Gregory freed his eyes with an effort from the launch to survey its +owner. Mascola turned angrily on the leather cushion and glared at the +<i>Petrel's</i> deck.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang walked coolly to the rail. "Sure I'm<!-- Page 69 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> pulling your nets," +she said. "I've got them all aboard. And that's where they're going to +stay until you pay me for the fish your outfit took from my nets."</p> + +<p>"I never take your fish. I don't know——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you do, Mascola. Boris laid around me and robbed my nets. +There's my webbing lying right where I put it out. I caught that crazy +Russian of yours with the goods and he lost his head and your boat. He's +piled up over there on the beach."</p> + +<p>Mascola rose hastily and followed the direction of her arm. In his anger +at beholding Dickie taking his nets from the water he had not noticed +the wreck of the <i>Roma</i>. A torrent of Italian words burst from his lips. +His cheeks purpled and his eyes grew hot with passion. When he +controlled himself to speak in English he cried:</p> + +<p>"I'll have you arrested for stealing my nets. I'll get a warrant and +search your wharf and your house."</p> + +<p>"But you won't find your nets." Dickie Lang supplied the words and went +on: "Listen, you crook, if you and I don't settle this thing up right +now you won't find a piece of your nets big enough to swear what it is. +I'm not trying to rob you like you robbed me. I just want what's coming +to me. Not a cent more. If you give me that I'll throw your webbing +over. If you don't I'll trail them every inch of the way to Legonia and +cut them into ribbons with the propeller. It's up to you, Mascola."</p> + +<p>The Italian flashed a glance to the cove where the<!-- Page 70 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> <i>Roma's</i> angling +mast appeared against the beach. Then he looked out to sea and his eyes +brightened as the mast of a fishing-boat rounded the point and turned +shoreward. It was Ankovitch with the <i>Lura</i>.</p> + +<p>His launch rode high on a capping swell and a puff of wind caused him to +look anxiously at the beach. The tide was beginning to set in strong and +the breeze was freshening. He snapped out his watch and scowled. +Whatever was done for the <i>Roma</i> must be done at once.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he flashed.</p> + +<p>"Pay for the fish you stole from my nets. From what I saw in your nets I +figure I had all of a ton." She glanced at the fish lying on the deck. +"You've got about five hundred here. I'll allow you for that. You pay me +the difference at three cents. That will be forty-five dollars."</p> + +<p>Mascola glared. His hand crept slowly to his pocket.</p> + +<p>"None of that."</p> + +<p>The girl's words cut like a knife. The hand which lay in her pocket +turned and the coat bulged outward.</p> + +<p>"I was getting my money," Mascola growled.</p> + +<p>"All right. Face about the other way when you get it."</p> + +<p>As the Italian turned, Dickie Lang caught up a rifle and threw it +loosely over her shoulder. Mascola turned to look straight into the +muzzle and drew back sharply. Then he flourished a roll of bills.<!-- Page 71 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Quick," he said. "You have me at a disadvantage this time. I will pay. +Here is the money."</p> + +<p>He tossed the bills to the deck.</p> + +<p>"All right, Mascola. That squares us for to-day. I'll dump your nets +over right where they are as soon as I check up the money. And the next +time you try to lay around me I'm going to run through your nets and cut +them to pieces."</p> + +<p>Mascola dropped to the cushioned seat and whirled half about.</p> + +<p>"I will not forget," he said. "To-day you win. Next time——"</p> + +<p>His words were lost in the roar of his motor. The speed-boat shot +forward like a horse at the touch of a spur. In a whirl of white water +Mascola sped away for the beach.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 72 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>YOU'LL HAVE TO SHOW ME</h3> + + +<p>The sky was reddening in the east when the last of the nets were pulled +aboard. Rounding Long Point, the <i>Petrel</i> took up the homeward track as +the sun peeped over the low brown hills and caressed the sea. Dickie +Lang looked back at the wreck of the <i>Roma</i> and the light of victory +died slowly from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sorry for Mascola," she exclaimed. "He got only what was coming +to him. But I am sorry for the little boat. She was a good little scout +and she was game to the end. You'll find that boats are a good deal like +people," she went on, "when you know them as well as I do. Some of them +are cranky and have to be coaxed along. Others are just plain lazy and +must be pounded on the back. And there are some that are treacherous and +the minute they get you in a tight place, they will lay down cold."</p> + +<p>Her last words gave her the cue to continue: "And the ocean is full of +tight places. Mascola found himself in one this morning. He had the +sense to realize it and act before it was too late. It went against his +grain to be beaten by a girl. But by cashing in when he did, he saved a +boat perhaps. So he put<!-- Page 73 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> his pride in his pocket. Sometimes you've got +to do that," she concluded seriously. "It hurts. But it's business."</p> + +<p>Gregory's face showed his surprise at her annunciation of the business +principle and, sensing that her admission might become embarrassing at +some future time, the girl changed the subject abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Did you see McCoy yesterday?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. We had a long talk last night. He's coming to work for me as +house-foreman."</p> + +<p>"That's fine," Dickie commended. "You'll like him. He'll be just the man +for you."</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded. "Yes," he answered. "I think we'll get on fine when we +understand each other better."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? You haven't had a row with Jack already, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. Just a difference of opinion. I had an idea I worked out +yesterday. McCoy couldn't see it."</p> + +<p>"What was the idea?"</p> + +<p>"It was a plan I had for getting labor. I wanted to hire a certain class +of men. McCoy didn't."</p> + +<p>"How did it come out?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to hire them, of course. I told McCoy if he didn't like it, +he could take the job or leave it. He decided to take it."</p> + +<p>"It's the foreman's job to hire the help," the girl observed. "What was +your plan?"</p> + +<p>Gregory looked the girl full in the eyes for a mo<!-- Page 74 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>ment. Then he began: +"I'm going to organize my business on a cooperative basis, make my +employees partners, pay them a graduated minimum wage and a share in the +profits which will be held back as a bonus to make it worth their while +to stick with me during the season."</p> + +<p>"And McCoy thought it wouldn't work?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Dickie knew the question was coming and was already prepared to give her +reasons.</p> + +<p>"When a man works for you," she explained, "he wants his money every +Saturday night. He's earned it and he should have it. He may leave the +minute it's in his fingers and hit the grit again. But he's worked a +week at least and that's something. If he thinks you're holding out on +him to get him to stick, he wouldn't even start."</p> + +<p>"That is what McCoy said. But you are both wrong. The men I am figuring +on hiring will stick. That is why I am hiring them."</p> + +<p>"Don't think much of a bunch like that," Dickie commented. "A man that +can't get a job to-day is a bum. And the fellow doesn't live that ever +gets through knocking around. That is if he's a real man."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong again," Gregory contradicted. "They are eighteen-carat +men. I've tried them out already. I know."</p> + +<p>"Where?"<!-- Page 75 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In France."</p> + +<p>"You mean soldiers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I called up a friend of mine last night in Port Angeles. He used +to be first lieutenant in my company. He's a reporter on <i>The Times</i> +now. Hawkins told me a lot of the boys were out of work and he promised +to look up a number of addresses of men in my old outfit. To-morrow I'm +going to the city to round them up. They've stood by me before in many a +tight place. It cost them a lot sometimes. But they stuck just the same. +Now I've got a chance to stick by them. And I'm going to do it because I +know they'll come up to the scratch."</p> + +<p>The girl was impressed by the earnestness of his words. He meant well of +course. It was a splendid idea but——</p> + +<p>She voiced her objections. "You'll find business is a different game +from war."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. But in both there is hard fighting. And when you are going +into a scrap with all you've got, you want men behind you you can bank +on."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't bank on them too strong. A lot of the ones I've seen think +they're too good to work at an ordinary job. They have an idea the war +has made them worth a lot more money than they really are. They like to +tell what great things they've done. But when it comes to——"</p> + +<p>"I've seen that kind, too. On both sides of the water. Over there no one +depended on them. They were shunted from pillar to post until they hit a +place<!-- Page 76 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> where they couldn't even hear the guns. When the war was over +they came back. They were whole. And they talked."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment and looked down at the deck. Then he went on in a +low voice: "The kind I'm figuring on are not whole. And they don't +talk."</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang said no more. When a man spoke with such depth of feeling, +what was the use of trying to talk him out of it. Of course he was +wrong. But he'd just have to find it out for himself. In silence they +neared the entrance to the bay and threaded their way among the +fishing-boats as they drew up to the Lang wharf. Gregory roused himself +at the sight of the Lang dock and turned to the girl.</p> + +<p>"You took me out this morning," he said, "to show me you knew your +business. Now it's up to me to show you I know mine. I'm going right to +work. I expect a hard fight, but I'll tell you right now this idea of +mine is going to win out."</p> + +<p>Dickie smiled as they drew alongside the dock.</p> + +<p>"Go to it," she said. "I won't say you're wrong. But you'll certainly +have to show me."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 77 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE</h3> + + +<p>"What do you expect me to do with a bunch of cripples like that?"</p> + +<p>Jack McCoy burst into the office of the Legonia Fish Cannery and hurled +the question angrily at his young employer.</p> + +<p>Gregory looked hard at McCoy's flushed face and snapping gray eyes. Then +he said quietly: "I expect you to train them."</p> + +<p>"My God!" McCoy came a step closer. Then he burst out: "Don't you know +it's hard enough to run a cannery with real men without——"</p> + +<p>Gregory was on his feet in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Don't say it," he gritted. "Unless you want to hook up with me right +now."</p> + +<p>McCoy sought to explain.</p> + +<p>"I'm not saying anything against them," he said. "But you don't +understand. I wonder if you have any idea what it means to break in a +bunch like that."</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is why I hired you. I believed you could do it. If you can't, +I'll find some one else who will."</p> + +<p>Gregory leaned against the desk.<!-- Page 78 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Listen, McCoy," he said. "You and I have to get down to cases right +now. There's no use flying off the handle. If you have anything to say, +I'll hear it. Anything except a word against those men out there. +They've had enough already. You told me the other day," he went on, "you +could break in anybody who'd stick. You showed me just the kind of work +there is to do. These men I'll guarantee will stick and I think you'll +get quite a jolt when you see what they've been taught to do. They're +not all cripples. I've got some huskies for the strong-arm stuff. And +there is a lot the other fellows can do. I want you to show them how. +You are not taking much of a chance that I can see. You'll get your +money the same as you always have, more if you stick through. And every +dollar we make, you'll have a few cents of it at least. Can you see +anything wrong with that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see where you're going to get off. You seem to think there is a +fortune in this business. I'll tell you there isn't. It's hard sledding +to make both ends meet as it is."</p> + +<p>"I know it. Last night I sat up half the night going over the books. I +found my father lost more money on account of labor trouble than from +any other cause."</p> + +<p>"Except not being able to get fish," corrected McCoy.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. That's labor just the same. Since this idea came to me it's +getting bigger all the time. I'm going to extend it to the boats as well +as the inside.<!-- Page 79 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> I've got a plan to have Miss Lang take charge of the +fishing end, train my men and run her boats for me on a flat rental and +salary."</p> + +<p>McCoy began to show more interest. "Is she in on the deal?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I haven't had a chance to talk with her yet. I'm going to see her +to-day."</p> + +<p>McCoy smiled. "I'd like to see Dick's face when you spring the +proposition of having her work for you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Suppose she turns me down. Has that anything to do with your working +for me?"</p> + +<p>McCoy's face flushed. "Don't know that it has," he admitted, "but——"</p> + +<p>The telephone interrupted further conversation and Gregory turned to the +instrument.</p> + +<p>"Yes—Mr. Gregory at the phone. All right."</p> + +<p>McCoy watched the silent figure as he listened to the message; saw his +jaws set tighter as he replaced the receiver and faced about.</p> + +<p>"I'd kind of like to talk this thing over with Blair," McCoy began. "You +see——"</p> + +<p>"I just received a telegram from the sanitarium. Mr. Blair died this +morning at nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>McCoy crumpled in his chair and rested his head in his hands. "Poor old +John," he muttered brokenly, "I ought to have gone up last night when +they phoned me he was so much worse." He raised his head and there were +tears shining in his eyes. "They didn't make them any whiter than John +Blair," he said.<!-- Page 80 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory agreed.</p> + +<p>"I knew him only slightly," he said. "But I surely counted on him. His +loss means a lot to me. I'll go up there right away and see if there is +anything I can do. Would you like to go with me?"</p> + +<p>McCoy could only nod and the two men left the building together.</p> + +<p>The hearts of men are tested in various crucibles. In a smoothly-moving +world human paths diverge and the grooves are often widened by +indifference. In times of stress, the diverse threads of commonplace +existence may merge into a single strand. Then it is that casual +acquaintances become friends, when man rubs elbow with man and hearts +beat together in mutual sympathy and understanding.</p> + +<p>Jack McCoy returned to Legonia saddened by the loss of an old friend; +gladdened by the belief that he had found a new one. It was not what +Gregory had done that made the difference to McCoy; simply the way he +had done it. Any man with money could have defrayed the expenses of +Blair's sickness and funeral. But it took a real man to make the +gratuity appear as a favor to the donor.</p> + +<p>When he met Gregory at the cannery the morning after their return to +Legonia, McCoy was not slow in admitting that he was strong for the +boss.</p> + +<p>"If we had time, Jack," Gregory was saying, "there is nothing I'd rather +do right now than give you a week off on full pay. But you know what +that<!-- Page 81 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> would mean to us at this time. Before we start in I want to make +you another proposition."</p> + +<p>As the foreman said nothing, he asked bluntly: "How would you like the +job as house manager?"</p> + +<p>"Fine," McCoy answered. "Do you think I could cut it?"</p> + +<p>"Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," McCoy answered with no hesitation.</p> + +<p>"All right then," Gregory answered in the same manner. "So do I. You've +got a real job ahead of you. Minutes are going to count in the next few +days. The next batch of my service men are due to-morrow."</p> + +<p>McCoy jumped up. "That means a day's work for me," he exclaimed, and +hurried out.</p> + +<p>Gregory glanced at his watch. The next thing to be done was to see +Dickie Lang. The matter of securing fish was of cardinal importance. The +girl would be at the dock about this time. It would afford him a good +chance to make his proposal while she was getting the fish ready for +shipment.</p> + +<p>Some time after Gregory had left the cannery, Barnes reported he was out +of carborundum and McCoy set out at once for Legonia.</p> + +<p>"They'd be all day sending it up," he said. "I've got to <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'do'">go</ins> down anyway +and check over some stuff for us at the freight-house so it might as +well be now."</p> + +<p>On nearing the Lang dock he heard Dickie's voice issuing from a pile of +fish-boxes at the shore end.<!-- Page 82 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> McCoy checked his steps involuntarily at +the girl's words, and without meaning to—listened.</p> + +<p>"So you want to pay me a flat rate for my boats and hire me to train +your men with my fishermen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. With a share in the profits."</p> + +<p>It was Gregory's voice. McCoy noted the quiet tone used by the girl. He +felt ashamed to eavesdrop. But he was torn with curiosity to hear Dick's +answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, you've got your nerve, I'd say. And then some. Do you think you +can run my business better than I can myself?"</p> + +<p>"If I did, I'd try to buy you out. I'm asking you to run my boats as +well as your own and——"</p> + +<p>"Be your hired girl."</p> + +<p>Dickie supplied the words and went on angrily: "Say, the Lang boats were +here a long time before you came. And they'll be here as long after you +go. They have gone on their own hook ever since they went into the +water. And that's the way they are going to stay. My dad never took +orders from anybody. He <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'run'">ran</ins> his boats the way he pleased. He was +independent. I'm the same way. And I want to tell you right now, I +wouldn't sell out my independence to you or any other man."</p> + +<p>McCoy crept back into the shadow of the fishing-boxes and making a wide +detour went on into town. He was sorry he had listened. It wasn't a +white thing to do. He liked Gregory. He was his friend. Then why, he +asked himself, was he kind of glad that Dick had turned down his +proposition?</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 83 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>DIABLO LUCK</h3> + + +<p>Busy days followed for Kenneth Gregory, and with the loyal support of +Jack McCoy, much was accomplished.</p> + +<p>The Legonia Fish Cannery wakened from its long sleep and took on new +life. From the receiving floor to the warehouse everything had been +carefully overhauled and put into first-class shape. Necessary repairs +and alterations had been made. Supplies and material were on hand. A +nucleus of skilled labor had been carefully selected by McCoy and +brought to train the service men who came to Legonia on every incoming +train.</p> + +<p>The sleepy little fishing village viewed the vanguard of the ex-soldiers +with sullen indifference. Silvanus Rock had told them not to worry their +heads over the "efforts of an impractical dreamer to turn the town +upside down." And who knew, if Rock didn't? As the days went by, +however, and the invasion became more noticeable, the alien element of +the fishing colony began to experience a feeling of sharp resentment +against the new owner of the Legonia cannery and his wild scheme. But +again the<!-- Page 84 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> foremost citizen had come to the fore and quieted their +fears, turning them into open contempt and ridicule by his words:</p> + +<p>"What can he do with a bunch of crippled rag-a-muffins? Look at them for +yourselves. There's hardly a whole man among them. I give him a month to +go to the wall. It's the old saying of a 'fool and his money.'"</p> + +<p>The opening of the new cannery presented every appearance of proving the +truth of Rock's prophecy and caused the aliens to laugh openly.</p> + +<p>"How can they run without fish?" sneered Mascola as he checked the catch +of the incoming boats. "They haven't had enough in a week to pay them to +keep up steam."</p> + +<p>Ten days after the opening Gregory was asking Jack McCoy the same +question.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Mac, something has to be done. The Lang boats are falling +down on the job. You'll admit we haven't had a paying run since we +started and expenses are climbing."</p> + +<p>McCoy nodded. "I know it," he agreed. "But Dick has had hard luck. None +of the boats have brought in much lately. The fish have taken out to +sea. Then Mascola's men have been causing a lot of trouble."</p> + +<p>"That's just it," Gregory interrupted. "The girl's tackled too big a +job. I was afraid of it all the time. She's all right, Jack. I'm not +saying a word against her. But she was foolish to get on her +'high-horse'<!-- Page 85 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> and turn down my proposition. It's a man's job to get all +the fish we're going to need. Not a woman's. Of course I know she's +doing her best," he went on. "But we can't go on this way. If she can't +make good on her contract we'll have to take it out of her hands. I'm +only going to give her a few more days."</p> + +<p>"Then what?" McCoy questioned.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll run things ourselves. I've been figuring on it for three or +four days. That's why I'm having all our boats put in shape."</p> + +<p>"How will you man them?" asked McCoy quickly.</p> + +<p>"I've arranged for that too. The last time I was in the city I lined up +a bunch of ex-navy men. They are fair sailors and have had some +experience in handling launches and small boats. I'm going to bring them +down here the same as I figured at first. If the girl wants to help me +with her men, all right. If not, we'll go it alone. It's a ground-hog +case. We've got to get the fish."</p> + +<p>"I wish Dick wasn't so darned independent," observed McCoy. "If it was +anybody else, they'd jump at your offer."</p> + +<p>"That's the trouble," Gregory admitted. "She's a woman and she's mighty +hard to talk out of an idea she sets her mind on. If I was dealing with +a man I'd have come to a show-down long before this. As it is, I'm going +to see her this afternoon and try to get down to brass tacks."</p> + +<p>A screech of the steam whistle interrupted further speech and the two +men jumped to their feet and<!-- Page 86 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> hurried out on the floor of the cannery at +the signal to resume work.</p> + +<p>"Only have enough to run about an hour," McCoy answered in response to +Gregory's question concerning the supply of fish on hand. And as he +noticed the frown on his employer's face, he supplemented: "We've had +enough the last few days to break the crew in anyway."</p> + +<p>"That's something, but it isn't good enough," Gregory answered. "You're +fixed right now to handle three times what we're getting. And I'm paying +for it. I'm not worrying about things in here, Mac. Everything is going +fine."</p> + +<p>He paused suddenly and his face glowed with enthusiasm as he walked +nearer the cutting-bench.</p> + +<p>"Look at the way those poor blind fellows are taking to their job, Mac," +he whispered. "They can't tell black from white but watch them work. +They'll be doing as much in a week as a man with two good eyes. How are +you coming, Dorgan?"</p> + +<p>He addressed a cutter working at the nearest bench. The blind man turned +quickly.</p> + +<p>"Fine, Capt. It's getting easier all the time. 'Twon't be long before +I'll be making real wages at this job."</p> + +<p>They passed from the blind cutters and came to the capping machine where +a man with an artificial leg was being instructed in soldering the cans. +Again Gregory's eyes expressed his satisfaction.<!-- Page 87 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's fine, Carlson," he commended. "You're getting on fine."</p> + +<p>The man at the machine nodded. "Nothing much to it," he answered +cheerfully. "Got kind of tired standing at first. But I don't notice it +much now."</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory strove to express his appreciation of McCoy's work as +they came to one of the empty warehouses, but the manager refused to +take the credit.</p> + +<p>"It was your idea," he said, "you paid me to carry it out. At first I +didn't think much of it. But now I believe it's going to work. The men +are tickled to death. I never had a crew that tried so hard to learn or +picked it up so quickly. I can handle an average run with them right now +and they've only been working broken hours for a week."</p> + +<p>Gregory turned quickly to McCoy and said earnestly: "It's a big idea, +Mac. It will work. It's got to work. It's getting bigger all the time. +And I'll be damned if I'm going to have a girl hang me up by falling +down on her job."</p> + +<p>He shut his lips tight as he drew a blue-print from his pocket and +spread it out on an empty case.</p> + +<p>"Now I want to go over these plans for making a bunk-house out of this +building. The boys can't get a decent place to stay in the town. The +contractor will be here in half an hour. After I've closed with him I'm +going down to the Lang dock and see the girl."</p> + + + +<p class="break">Dickie Lang paced the docks in nervous expec<!-- Page 88 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>tancy while she checked in +her returning fleet and conferred with one of her fishing captains.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Tom, we've got to get them. I'm under contract to supply +Mr. Gregory with fish and I can't fall down like this. Look here." +Shoving a tally-sheet before his eyes, she pointed to the totals. "Not +enough there to last him half a day. He's beginning to eat them up. +We've got to get more."</p> + +<p>"But if they ain't runnin', what you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Go after them," she snapped. "Mascola's getting fish. He's going out to +sea for them. He brought in a good haul yesterday from Diablo. That's +why I sent the big boats over there with the <i>Petrel</i> scouting ahead."</p> + +<p>The fisherman shook his head dubiously.</p> + +<p>"You're takin' a tall chance," he said slowly. "Things happen out Diablo +way. Your dad never could make it stick out there. He lost a heap around +that devil-island. That's why he give up fishin' out there."</p> + +<p>"He didn't give it up," the girl flashed, "any more than I'm going to +give it up. Diablo's got your goats, and you know it. There's always +fish around the island and I'll bet you two to one when the fleet comes +back they'll have them to burn."</p> + +<p>Turning with disgust, Dickie walked to the end of the dock and sought to +pierce the shifting curtain of mist which hung about the inlet. It came +to her suddenly that in her anger at Gregory's proposal, she had made a +big promise. Moreover she had entered<!-- Page 89 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> into a contract which she was +finding more difficult to fulfill than she had imagined. Perhaps she was +a fool not to have taken up the cannery-owner's proposition. At least it +was worth considering. By accepting his terms all the worry would have +been shifted to him and she would have been able to play safe. In a year +she would have been out of debt. With her boats paid for, she could +afford to be independent. Now, she was going further behind each day. +Worse than that, she was falling down on her contract.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Finishing his business with the contractor a half-hour before closing +time, Gregory hurried down to the Lang wharf.</p> + +<p>He found the girl busied with her tally-sheets and stepped behind a row +of fish-boxes and waited. From his position he could see the neighboring +dock where a number of alien fishermen were at work mending nets. Apart +from the others was the huge figure of a red-shirted man standing +motionless, scowling in the direction of the Lang wharf. As he looked +closer, he became conscious of the fact that he had seen the red-shirted +giant before.</p> + +<p>Boisterous laughter floated across the intervening strip of water and a +scarlet sleeve flashed as the big man shook his fist threateningly at +the rival dock.</p> + +<p>"They are kidding the Russian about losing the <i>Roma</i> and getting canned +by the boss," explained a fisherman who was passing by. "Boris is sorer +than a boiled owl at being run on the rocks by a girl."<!-- Page 90 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory watched the excited foreigner in silence. A man like that could +cause a lot of trouble. Suddenly he heard the sound of low voices on the +other side of the lane of fish-boxes.</p> + +<p>"What's that got to do with it? We've got to live as well as she has. We +ain't gettin' enough I tell you, and you know it. What's the use of +bein' a damn fool?"</p> + +<p>The words died away in a low mumble as the men passed on. Gregory +emerged from his cover and looked after the two fishermen. Then he +noticed the girl had finished her calculations and hurried toward her.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you want to know what I have," she anticipated. "Well, I +haven't much yet. If you stay round a little while though I'll show you +a real haul. I'm expecting my boats back at any minute from El Diablo."</p> + +<p>Gregory scarcely knew how to begin the interview. The girl was clearly +unreasonable and flared up at the slightest intimation that she was +unable to manage her own business. And yet it was perfectly clear that +she could not.</p> + +<p>"Fish is what we're needing right now," he said with blunt emphasis. +"We're ready to go. McCoy has a good crew and he can handle them fast. A +whole lot faster than we've been getting them," he added.</p> + +<p>She interrupted as he knew she would.<!-- Page 91 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I'm doing my level darnedest," she retorted. "If I wasn't I guess +I wouldn't have risked my best boats at Diablo in a fog." As Gregory +said nothing in the way of argument, she challenged: "Do you think you +could do any better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered without any hesitation, "I think I could. That is if +you would help me. I think if we would pull together on this proposition +we could do a whole lot. Right now you are threatened with labor +trouble."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you're talking about. My men are loyal to me and +always have been. They'll stick from start to finish."</p> + +<p>Gregory related the conversation he had overheard a few minutes before. +As he finished, he noted that a worried expression crept to the girl's +eyes, though she said:</p> + +<p>"What's that amount to? There are always some who are dissatisfied and +try to cause trouble. I'm well rid of a bunch like that anyway. There +are not many of them."</p> + +<p>It was on Gregory's tongue to broach his proposal when he saw the girl +looking eagerly past him into the wall of fog. Through the veil he +caught the dim outline of an approaching fishing-boat.</p> + +<p>"Here comes the <i>Curlew</i> back from Diablo. Before you say anything more +wait until you see what luck they've had. If I don't miss my guess we'll +have fish enough for you now all right."<!-- Page 92 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>Together they walked down the steep gangway to the swaying float.</p> + +<p>"If I can't get them at Diablo, I can't get them anywhere," exclaimed +Dickie Lang. Then she shouted to the captain of the <i>Curlew</i>: "What +luck, Jones?"</p> + +<p>From the gray void of fog a deep voice floated back:</p> + +<p>"Diablo luck. Never got nothin' and the <i>Petrel</i> was smashed to hell."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 93 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>SALVAGE</h3> + + +<p>Dickie Lang was nonplussed. Her best bet was thrown into the discard. +Her pride and independence had been at stake. For her most valued +possessions, she had risked her all, and "stood pat" on the turn-up at +the devil-island. Her cards were all on the table. Now she had lost. +Leaning against the sagging rail she watched the <i>Curlew</i> draw alongside +the float. Her slender fingers gripped the hand-rail and the sharp +splinters bit into her hands. But what was that to the pain which gnawed +at her heart? She hadn't made good. The taste of failure was a new and +strange sensation. She had made her fight, done her best. But it wasn't +good enough. But why was it necessary to take the little <i>Petrel</i>? Was +Diablo to beat her as it had beaten others? No, she must buck up. She +was Bill Lang's daughter.</p> + +<p>"It's all in the game," she exclaimed to Gregory. "As I told you, the +sea plays no favorites."</p> + +<p>Before the young man could answer, she had turned from him to meet the +men who were climbing from the incoming vessel.</p> + +<p>"Hello, boys. Tough luck. But we can't help it.<!-- Page 94 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> Tell me what happened. +Make it short. I've got a lot to do."</p> + +<p>The fishermen grouped themselves about her as the quivering figure of a +little Mexican lunged through the circle and began to speak:</p> + +<p>"<i>Dios, Señorita</i>, it was very bad," he quavered. "We were lying close +to shore. The fog was everywhere. We could not see. And the anchor, it +would not hold. I was at the chain as you say I must when I hear a boat +coming. <i>Jesus de mi alma</i>, but she is coming fast. I can not leave as +we are drifting and I say to Pedro that he make a noise with the +whistle. But he does not get a chance. As he jumped for the engine-house +a big boat she come right out of the fog and before we can move, she +smash us all to hell. I fall into the water with Pedro and loose the +dory. For a time we drift. Then we are picked up by <i>Señor</i> Jones."</p> + +<p>"Did the <i>Petrel</i> sink right away?" Dickie interrupted.</p> + +<p>Another man crowded forward and answered the question.</p> + +<p>"She didn't sink at all, miss. She wasn't far from the shore and she +drifted in with the tide that was settin' in strong. Then she piled up +on the rocks. She's layin' there now, high and dry on the beach."</p> + +<p>"Didn't the boat that smashed them, lay to?" volleyed the girl.</p> + +<p>Again the Mexican began to speak excitedly:<!-- Page 95 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> "<i>Sangre de Christo</i>, no," +he chattered, "The boat, she was very big, <i>Señorita</i>, and she did not +stop."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Manuel. You were crazy with fright. Don't talk like a fool. +Go home and go to bed. When you've had a good sleep, I'll talk with you +again."</p> + +<p>Stung into action by Jones's statement that the hull of the <i>Petrel</i> was +still on the beach, she turned suddenly to the wharf.</p> + +<p>"Tom Howard," she called sharply. When a voice answered, she ordered: +"Fill up the <i>Pelican</i> with oil and stock her with grub. You can get it +from Swanson. Throw in a couple of deep-sea hooks and a lot of good +hauser. Mind it's new. Be ready to pull out in an hour." She turned +again to the men before her. "Jones, I want you to get the <i>Curlew</i> +ready. We may need two boats to pull her off. You know where they went +ashore. Take Johnson and Rasmussen with you. We've got to move lively. A +boat won't hang together long out there."</p> + +<p>"Rasmussen's sick. How about Pete Carlin? He was with me coming over."</p> + +<p>"Don't want him, Jones. Got to have men who know the game round Diablo +in a fog. Take Sorenson."</p> + +<p>The fisherman nodded and lumbered up the gangway followed by others. +Dickie Lang jammed her hands deep down into her pockets and shrugged her +shoulders as she turned to Gregory.</p> + +<p>"If it isn't one thing, it's another," she said quietly. "Can you beat +it? Manuel saying he was run down?<!-- Page 96 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> He was scared to death. I don't +believe a thing touched him. He just went to sleep and drifted in on the +rocks and made up that story to save his job. Well, we'll know when I +see the hull."</p> + +<p>Gregory listened, scarcely hearing the girl's words. At her announcement +of going to the island he began to make tentative plans to accompany +her. There might be a lot he could do. And she sure needed help. He +wondered if he could offer his assistance without again antagonizing +her.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to go with you," he said bluntly. "I don't know much about the +sea yet, but maybe I can do some of the strong-arm stuff and learn +something. Besides, I want to have a look at Diablo."</p> + +<p>Dickie regarded him approvingly.</p> + +<p>"How about the cannery?" she asked. "My boats will go on fishing just +the same."</p> + +<p>"McCoy can take care of things all right until I get back. I'll learn a +lot more over there than sticking around here."</p> + +<p>"You're the boss of that," she replied. Then she added as an +afterthought. "I'd be glad to have you."</p> + +<p>As they walked to the wharf Gregory encountered McCoy and explained the +situation.</p> + +<p>"So I'm going out there," he concluded. "While I'm away it's up to you."</p> + +<p>McCoy, he noticed, did not enthuse over the idea.</p> + +<p>"Diablo's a dangerous place to be fooling around at this time of the +year," he said.<!-- Page 97 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If she can take the risk, I surely can," Gregory answered promptly.</p> + +<p>"You're needed here," objected McCoy. "Everything's new and there's +liable to be something come up I don't know about."</p> + +<p>"Then do the best you can. I'll back you up. You know a lot more about +it anyway than I do."</p> + +<p>McCoy lapsed into silence while Gregory hurried away to make ready for +the trip. When they were ready to shove off, McCoy watched the two boats +slide out into the fog with conflicting emotions. Dick knew how to take +care of herself all right. She could handle a boat in bad weather with +the best of them. But, was that good enough? He reflected suddenly that +Bill Lang <i>had</i> been the best of them. And it was on just such a day as +this that Bill Lang had met his death on Diablo with Gregory's father.</p> + +<p>Leaning against the dripping rail, he cursed the circumstances which +prevented his being at the girl's side if anything went wrong. He liked +the boss or he would have told him to look for another man. And +Gregory's banking on him, tied him up. His inability to join the +expedition gave to another the chance which should have been his. Torn +by anxiety for the girl's welfare and another emotion he was slower in +analyzing, he listened to the faint gulping of the <i>Pelican's</i> exhaust +until it was no longer audible.</p> + + + +<p class="break">The sun rose sullenly from a fog-spotted sea and glared wrathfully at +the wreaths of low-lying mist<!-- Page 98 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> which obscured his vision of the +saw-toothed peaks of El Diablo. Under the warmth of his gaze, the +white-fleeced clouds wavered, shifting about uncertainly. As if loath to +leave the devil-island they had guarded throughout the long night, they +contracted slowly, niggardly exposing a line of rugged cliffs which +shone bleak and gray in the strengthening light of early morning.</p> + +<p>"It's breaking up at last. Look!"</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang pointed to the dark blot on the horizon.</p> + +<p>"Can't. If I take my eyes from this needle for a second the boat'll run +all over the ocean."</p> + +<p>Gregory continued to stare at the compass while the girl smiled at his +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Tom will take her now," she said, nodding to Howard to relieve him at +the wheel. Then she added: "You've done fine. We've been going all night +on dead reckoning and we're not far off."</p> + +<p>Gregory surrendered the wheel with a sigh of relief and followed the +direction of the girl's extended arm.</p> + +<p>"That's Diablo," she announced. "I'm mighty glad the fog is shifting. +Wouldn't have needed to have started so early if we had known. But +that's the fun of the sea. You never know. There is no use trying to +make it in there in a fog," she added. "It is bad enough when you can +see."</p> + +<p>While she talked with Johnson concerning the location of the wreck, +Gregory found time to note the<!-- Page 99 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> towering cliffs which rose precipitously +from the blue-green sea. Somewhere along that rock-crusted coast, he +reflected bitterly, Diablo had claimed another of the Lang boats only a +few months ago. Somewhere among the white-crested rocks his father and +Bill Lang had met their death. He wondered where, but did not ask. +Perhaps the girl would speak of it.</p> + +<p>For some time he watched the mist-clouds flee before the brightening +rays of the rising sun. Then he noticed that Dickie was standing by his +side. Her eyes too were held by the rugged coast.</p> + +<p>"The devil dumped it there," he heard her say in a low voice. "And when +he saw what a hellish coast it was, he named it for himself. That's what +dad used to say." She flung out her arm in the direction of a towering +peak. "At the base of that highest cliff was where the <i>Gull</i> went on +the rocks. They call it 'Hell-Hole.'"</p> + +<p>Staring in silence at the saddle-backed mountain, their minds traveled +into the past. Then Gregory asked: "Does any one live on the island?"</p> + +<p>"It's a sheep-ranch. A man by the name of Bandrist has it leased on long +time from the government. He's Swiss, I think. He farms a little of the +land that isn't too rocky and runs his sheep over the rest. The island +is about twenty miles long and over ten in the widest place."</p> + +<p>"Is fishing good out here?"</p> + +<p>"Fine," the girl answered. "Only it's dangerous. Fogs in spring and +summer, and storms the rest of the<!-- Page 100 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> time. Lots of albacore and tuna. But +it costs boats and sometimes men to get them. Dad used to fish out here, +but something was always sure to happen about the time he got well +started. Just like yesterday. Diablo's a place," she said slowly, "where +a man just can't make a mistake. If he does, he never lives to tell what +happened." She pointed to the frowning cliffs which guarded the shore +and extended far out into the water in a series of white-capped reefs. +"No anchorage," she explained. "And a strong inshore current. When you +get weather out here, it's nasty, and it hits you all in a bunch."</p> + +<p>As they neared the island the <i>Pelican</i> slowed down to wait for the +<i>Curlew</i> which had been lagging astern.</p> + +<p>"Jones must be having engine-trouble," commented Dickie Lang. "Or else +Diablo's got him buffaloed too."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Gregory asked.</p> + +<p>Lowering her voice so that it would not reach the two fishermen on the +<i>Pelican</i>, she said: "They all give Diablo a wide berth. The fishermen +are scared to death of the island. If you want to hear a lot of wild +tales, just talk to some of my men at Legonia. Look at Manuel. Went +clean out of his head and the funny part of it is the others all +believed him. What's the matter, Jones? Having trouble?"</p> + +<p>She addressed the skipper of the <i>Curlew</i> as he brought his craft +alongside.</p> + +<p>"Been havin' it all the way over," the man replied.<!-- Page 101 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> "Compression's +gettin' worse all the time." He drew a grimy hand across his blackened +forehead and squinted in the direction of the island. "No place to be +foolin' round with a cripple either, I can tell you," he growled. +"Reckon I'd better lay to until I can get patched up."</p> + +<p>The girl's brow wrinkled.</p> + +<p>"All right, Jones. I'll go on. Follow when you can. We'll be around that +next point. Can you beat that?" she exclaimed in a low voice to Gregory. +"His feet are getting cold too, and he's one of the best men I have."</p> + +<p>Keeping well off the headland they rounded the point and turned +shoreward.</p> + +<p>"In there."</p> + +<p>Johnson jerked his head in the direction of a small cove which lay +almost hidden beneath the brow of an overhanging cliff.</p> + +<p>"She lays just beyond that arch."</p> + +<p>Dickie ordered a halt.</p> + +<p>"Can't chance it in there with the big boat. Throw out the hook and keep +your motor warm, Johnson. We may have to get out of here in a hurry. +Keep a good eye on the chain for if she starts to drift you'll be on the +rocks before you can snub her up. Put the dory over, Tom, and we'll go +ashore and take a look."</p> + +<p>Under the powerful sweep of Tom Howard's oars, the small boat darted +from the shadow of the launch and sped away toward the cove. Rounding +the natural arch by which the point projected itself<!-- Page 102 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> into the sea, they +entered the little cove which nestled at the base of the overhanging +cliff. Bisecting the cove, a rugged ledge of rock jutted out into the +sea. Dickie shaded her eyes with her hand and half rose from her seat. +Cradled between two jagged rocks at the extreme end of the ledge, her +bow angling sharply, her stern washed by the lapping waves, bruised and +broken, lay all that was left of her favorite vessel. Only the girl's +eyes mirrored her emotion as she stared at the wreck.</p> + +<p>"Looks as if they made a clean job of it," she observed quietly. "Land +right in here, Tom. We'll climb up on the ledge and walk over."</p> + +<p>Pulling the dory up on the rocks they stumbled over the slippery +eel-grass and approached the ill-fated craft. Dickie Lang examined the +hull.</p> + +<p>"Looks like Manuel wasn't dreaming, at that," she ejaculated, pointing +to the jagged hole in the <i>Petrel's</i> side.</p> + +<p>"Somebody bumped him all right and it must have been almost in the cove +or he would never have drifted in here."</p> + +<p>The further examination of the wreck went on in silence. The engine was +half-submerged, Gregory noticed, and the water poured from the +splintered hull and splashed to the rocks in a series of tiny cataracts.</p> + +<p>"Not much of a chance to save anything but the motor and the shaft," +Dickie observed. "And we'll have to work lively to do that on this ebb. +She'll break up on the flood if there's any sea."<!-- Page 103 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>As Howard jerked his head in acquiescence with the girl's diagnosis, a +shower of loose rocks rattled from the overhanging cliff. Dickie walked +around the <i>Petrel's</i> bow and scrambled to the ledge.</p> + +<p>"Looks as if we were going to have company," she announced, pointing in +the direction of the bluff, where three men were descending the trail to +the beach. Reaching the ledge the strangers walked steadily toward the +wreck and halted within a few feet of the salvage party. As they +jabbered in a French dialect, Gregory listened intently.</p> + +<p>Dickie's hand stole to the pocket of her coat. The men seemed bent on +making trouble. It was best to take no chances. Her fingers sought the +handle of the Colt in vain. Cursing her negligence in leaving the +automatic aboard the <i>Pelican</i>, she stepped forward for a parley with +the strangers. Gregory and Howard placed themselves about her as the men +moved closer.</p> + +<p>"No sabe," exclaimed Dickie Lang. "What kind of lingo are they talking +anyway."</p> + +<p>Gregory was dividing his attention between the man with the red beard +and the weasel-faced stranger who was gesticulating so wildly with his +long arms.</p> + +<p>"Red-beard says nobody's allowed here, or words to that effect," he +interpreted. "Weasel-face backs him up in it and says for us to beat +it."</p> + +<p>"Tell them what we're here for. And that when we get the boat stripped +we'll go, and not before."</p> + +<p>The red-bearded man shook his heavy head with slow comprehension. +Weasel-face shuffled closer, his<!-- Page 104 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> small eyes blinking malevolently. The +third member of the party, a thick-set man with a face pitted by scars, +motioned threateningly in the direction of the dory.</p> + +<p>Dickie brushed forward.</p> + +<p>"I'll try them in dago," she said.</p> + +<p>Gregory watched the strangers move closer to their leader as the girl +began to speak; heard his low-voiced words, uttered in a harsh guttural; +saw his arm flash out and grasp the girl roughly by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Leaping forward, Gregory found his way blocked by Weasel-face. The +islander's hand was fumbling at his belt. Gregory's fist snapped his +head backward. The man's hands flew up, but not in time to block the +vicious blow which caught him full on the chin.</p> + +<p>Weasel-face's legs collapsed. Without a sound he fell in a heap upon the +rocks. Holding Dickie Lang in his great arms, the red-bearded man saw +his companion fall by his side. With a snarl he released the struggling +girl and shoved her from him. Before he could draw his knife Kenneth +Gregory was upon him.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 105 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>REFUSING TO BE BLUFFED</h3> + + +<p>Dickie Lang reeled backward as the red-bearded man shoved her from him. +She felt the eel-grass slipping beneath her feet. Striving vainly to +regain her balance, she turned cat-like in the air and broke the fall +with her hands. As she rebounded to her feet she could see Gregory +wrestling with the man who had precipitated the attack. Close by his +side, Tom Howard grappled with the scar-faced islander. The third man +lay huddled on the rocks where he had fallen.</p> + +<p>Dickie decided at once upon her course of action. Gregory and Howard +were holding their own against the two men. It was up to her to see that +the third of the islanders did not come to the rescue of his companions. +The man might regain consciousness at any moment. Then there would be +three against two. She remembered suddenly that there was rope on the +<i>Petrel</i>. Better than that there was a rifle. It was but a few steps to +the launch. She covered it quickly, caught the main-stay and pulled +herself aboard.<!-- Page 106 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="break">Kenneth Gregory realized at the outset that he was up against a hard +fight. In his hurry to close with the red-bearded man, his foot had +slipped on the slimy grass and he had been forced to clinch to save +himself from falling. This placed him at a marked disadvantage. His +opponent had the best of him in weight by at least twenty pounds and was +heavily muscled. Moreover he possessed a certain agility on the +grass-covered rocks which rendered any attempt on Gregory's part to +force the battle, as extremely hazardous. The islander, at home on the +slippery footing, from the start, became the aggressor.</p> + +<p>For a time Gregory was content merely to hold his feet against +Red-beard's rushes and retain his hold on the islander's knife-arm, +should he be possessed of a weapon. Men of that type, he reasoned, were +usually short-winded. In time the heavier man would exhaust himself. +Then his turn would come. Ahead he noticed a clear space, free from +grass. The solid rock would afford good footing. There he would have a +better chance.</p> + +<p>If the islander was determined to crowd, he might as well crowd in the +right direction. Gregory changed front slowly, working his body around +the heavier man, giving way before his bull-like rushes. When he reached +the position he desired, he checked his circling movement and began to +retreat steadily. Keeping his feet wide apart, his body carefully +balanced, he backed slowly in the direction of the spot where the grass +would no longer slip beneath his feet.<!-- Page 107 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>On the other side of the ledge, Tom Howard battled with the scar-faced +man. Of equal weight and strength, the struggle resolved itself into a +question of endurance, as the two men rolled over each other on the +barnacled rocks in an effort to break the other's grip and strengthen +his own. Unconscious of their surroundings, their heads locked close to +their straining bodies, they grappled blindly, working closer to a deep +crevice which lay across their path. For a brief instant they ceased +struggling. Their bodies stiffened. With each man seeking to pin the +other beneath him they rolled to the crevice and dropped from view.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Dickie, aboard the boat, flashed a glance at the gun-rack. The rifle was +gone. The patent-clasp which held the weapon in place had been wrenched +free. Her eyes traveled to the empty provision-locker, which stood open. +Close by it lay a small monkey-wrench with which some one had battered +the padlock.</p> + +<p>A wrench would be better than nothing. She caught it up and ran to the +deck. Securing a small coil of rope, she jumped to the rocks and raced +in the direction of the spot where the weasel-faced man had fallen.</p> + +<p>As she ran she caught a glimpse of Gregory giving way before the +red-bearded man toward the table-like surface of the ledge which jutted +out over the cove. Of Howard she could see nothing. She stopped +sud<!-- Page 108 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>denly as she came in view of the spot where the weasel-faced +islander had sprawled upon the rocks.</p> + +<p>The man was gone.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Solid rock beneath his feet at last—Red-beard had forced him to the +exact spot he desired to reach—Gregory's muscles contracted with a +jerk. He stopped retreating and began to slide around the islander. If +he was successful in carrying out his plan it was best to have Red-beard +on the outside of the ledge.</p> + +<p>Divining his purpose, the big man stiffened as he caught a glimpse of +the sea over his shoulder. Straining closer to each other's throbbing +bodies, the two men redoubled their efforts to twist the other to the +outside. Red-beard's breath began to come in gasps. He opened his mouth +and sucked in the air feverishly. His corded muscles were beginning to +relax. Gregory's feet shot under the islander's legs and the big man +narrowly escaped falling. When he regained his balance he could not see +the water. The cool air from the sea which had been blowing in his face +now stirred the thick hair which covered his neck. He was on the outside +of the ledge overlooking the cove.</p> + +<p>Before he could recover from his surprise, Red-beard felt the fingers on +his arm relax. His opponent wriggled in his arms, stiffened and crushed +against him. As the big man fought to regain his balance, Gregory freed +an arm and his fist flashed to the islander's ear. Red-beard grunted for +breath. Again the rigidly flexed forearm cut under his guard and<!-- Page 109 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> landed +on his hairy chin. As he raised his big arms to protect his head, his +antagonist twisted free.</p> + +<p>Ducking under the clumsy fist which beat the air above his head, Gregory +swung again for the islander's chin. With a snarl of rage, the big man +lowered his head. Then his angry growl changed quickly to a grunt of +pain as he took the blow full in the forehead. Reeling dizzily, his hand +sought his girdle. His fingers closed on the hilt of his knife and +jerked it free.</p> + +<p>Gregory hurled himself forward at the sight of the steel. Grasping the +uplifted arm he wrenched it inward, twisting the man half around. +Surprised at the suddenness of the move, the islander gave way in a +series of staggering steps which carried him to the edge of the rock +ledge overlooking the water.</p> + +<p>Retaining his hold on the red-bearded man's wrist, Gregory struck with +all his force at the bulging chest. As the blow landed he felt the body +crumple in his arms and the knife clattered to the rocks. The islander +staggered backward with his assailant pressing close against him. In +their struggle both men had for the moment forgotten the overhanging +ledge.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="./images/image-3.jpg"> +<img src="./images/image-3_th.jpg" alt="Both men had forgotten the overhanging ledge" title="Both men had forgotten the overhanging ledge" /> +</a></p> +<p class="figcenter">Both men had forgotten the overhanging ledge</p> + +<p>Gregory remembered it too late. Red-beard's arms were still about him. +Suddenly he felt the dead weight of the islander's body. As he strove to +break the man's hold he tottered on the brink of the ledge. He felt +himself being dragged downward. Before his eyes flashed the rock-dappled +waters of the cove. His only chance lay in clearing the rocks below. +His<!-- Page 110 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> knees straightened with a jerk. Shoving his body outward, he +plunged over the ledge with the islander clinging to him.</p> + +<p>The warning scream died on Dickie Lang's lips as she ran toward them. +Checking her steps on the edge of the rocks overlooking the water, she +stared at the ever-widening circles which rippled the water and the +jagged rocks which shone ominously dark beneath the surface. She +followed the center of the ripples mechanically. Thank God, they had hit +in a clear spot. But what chance would a man have throttled like that by +another?</p> + +<p>The cool rush of air on his throbbing face gave place to a cooler one as +the waters closed over Kenneth Gregory's head. He felt his body sinking +like a stone. The arms about his body tightened. The blood pounded to +his brain. To his mind flashed stories of swimmers who had been drowned +by women with the fatal strangle-hold. He realized sharply that he was +held by no woman, but a red-bearded giant, insane through fear, +incapable of reason. Whatever he did must be done at once.</p> + +<p>With an effort which left his lungs pressing hard against his ribs he +freed an arm and worked it upward until he felt the matted hair of the +islander's beard. From there it was only a span to the throat. That was +what he must reach. The throat. The words raced through his brain. The +throat. He must shut down on that and hang. His groping fingers searched +for the elusive organ. Perhaps Red-beard had no throat.<!-- Page 111 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>The +grotesqueness of the idea caused him to want to laugh. It didn't matter +much after all. Not when.... There it was. He had found it at last. His +fingers stiffened and slid on the slippery flesh. Then they fastened, +tightened and hung.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Good God, would they never come up? Dickie searched the faintly dimpled +waters from her commanding elevation, but her closest scrutiny revealed +no sign of the men beneath the surface. Kenneth Gregory was drowned as +his father had been drowned at Diablo. So intent was the girl upon her +examination of the water that she failed to see a limping figure emerge +cautiously from behind a pile of rocks and drop into a near-by crevice.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Under the steady pressure of his fingers, Gregory felt the body of the +islander relax. Then he became conscious in a vague sort of way, of +movement. They were rising to the surface or sinking lower to the +bottom. Why couldn't he tell which? He freed his legs from the inert +form which twined itself about him, and kicked weakly. The red-bearded +man slipped from him at the effort and he narrowly escaped losing his +hold upon his throat. He kicked again. If he could only get one gulp of +air he could make it. In spite of the ever-increasing pressure on his +lungs he found himself getting sleepy. He was tired, worn out. If he +could only fill his lungs with something to stop that dull pain, he +could go to sleep and rest.<!-- Page 112 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="break">Dickie Lang saw the dark blot of the two figures as they neared the +surface. Then she thought of the rope in her hand. She could weigh it +with the wrench and throw it from where she stood. Uncoiling it hastily, +she measured the distance. Too far, she realized bitterly. She looked to +the water's edge. The distance would be shorter from there. Shoving the +wrench into her pocket and throwing the rope loosely about her neck, she +crawled over the ledge and climbed downward.</p> + +<p>The ledge dipped sharply under the overhanging surface and extended +shoreward in a narrow shelf, carpeted by kelp and washed by the sea. +Around that big boulder would be the best place. From there she could +throw the rope to good advantage. She was about to shout encouragement +when she heard the sharp splash of a stone falling into the water from +the cliff. Shrinking closer to the rocks, she listened. Then crept +silently on.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Air to breathe at last! Gregory lay passive on the surface, content to +gulp it in in huge mouthfuls. Nothing else mattered now. His head +throbbed painfully and his eyeballs burned in their sockets. But he had +air. And that was enough. As the pressure of blood on his brain +lessened, he became conscious of the fact that he was still gripping the +islander's throat. He released his fingers and the big head tilted +forward until it rested face down on the water. With a start<!-- Page 113 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> Gregory +realized that the air had come too late for Red-beard. He must get the +man ashore at once.</p> + +<p>He turned his head slowly and saw the rock ledge only a few feet away. +By that big overhanging boulder would be the place to land. There he +could crawl up on the soft kelp and rest. Rolling the unconscious man to +his back, he swam slowly for the ledge.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Dickie reached the base of the projecting rock and wedging her slender +body into a small fissure, peered cautiously through the cleft. So close +that she could almost touch him, alert and motionless, stood the +weasel-faced man. His small eyes were fixed upon the water. The hand +which was nearest her held a knife.</p> + +<p>Wriggling from the crevice she hastily retraced her steps. No use trying +to squeeze through there. She would be in full view before she would +have a chance. Flashing a glance at the rugged surface of the boulder, +she began to climb.</p> + + + +<p class="break">It was farther to the ledge than he thought. Something was the matter +with his legs. His arms had no strength. They had almost ceased to +function. A sharp pain gripped his side and tore downward through his +body. Still Gregory swam on. In another moment he could reach out and +grip the kelp with his hand. He closed his eyes and swam mechanically. +At length his extended fingers touched the sea-grass which fringed the +ledge. Twining them eag<!-- Page 114 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>erly about it, he pulled his aching body closer +and rested, clinging to the rocks.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Hand over hand Dickie Lang crawled upward and outward until she could +see the water lapping at the ledge beneath. From her vantage point she +could see Gregory swimming on with closed eyes in the direction of the +rocks. His limbs were moving slowly and his face was drawn with pain. +Still he floundered on. Straight for the kelp-covered ledge—and +Weasel-face.</p> + +<p>A sharp turn in the rocky pathway put the man in full view, only a few +feet below. Sheltered from sight of the struggling figure in the water, +he waited in silence.</p> + +<p>If she called out to warn Gregory to seek a new landing-place it was +doubtful if he could make the beach in his exhausted condition. Such a +course, too, would make her presence known to the hatchet-faced man who +as yet had not observed her. No, it was better to take the man unawares. +She thought of the rope. Perhaps she could loop it over his head. She +gave up the idea at once. It could only fail. Jamming her hands into her +pockets, her fingers closed on the wrench. She jerked it out and +balanced it in her hand. A feeling of confidence surged over her. She +couldn't miss him from where she stood. Her pastime of flinging stones +at the gulls when a child would stand her in good stead now. If the man +looked up, she would throw before he could recover from his surprise.<!-- Page 115 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="break">Dragging his tired body wearily from the water, Gregory pulled his +unconscious companion after him. As he stretched the islander at full +length on the soft kelp and knelt over him, he caught sight of a man's +foot protruding from behind a rock.</p> + +<p>Gregory stumbled to his feet. At the same instant he heard the sound of +a muffled blow. A small wrench clattered to the rocks and fell with a +splash into a pool of water.</p> + +<p>"I knew I could get him," a girlish voice called from above. Dickie Lang +jumped down with shining eyes and made her way toward him. "Buck up," he +heard her say. But the voice trailed away into silence.</p> + +<p>When he regained consciousness, the girl was bending over him, rubbing +his numbed limbs and slapping his cold flesh violently.</p> + +<p>"You'll be all right in a minute," she said. "Don't try to talk now. Lie +still and rest. Feel better?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. As he moved his head he noticed the two figures lying close +beside him. Noting the questioning look in his eyes, Dickie explained:</p> + +<p>"They're all right or will be in a little while. I'm looking after them. +When they come to, I'm going to tie them up." She flourished a small +coil of rope.</p> + +<p>As his strength returned Gregory began to pick up the loose threads. +"Howard?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "Don't know where he is. Couldn't see him. Don't +worry. Chances are he's all right. He's hard as nails. When you can walk +we'll go and look for him."<!-- Page 116 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>They found the fisherman huddled against the rocks at the bottom of the +small crevice. Close by his side lay the scar-faced islander. Both men +were unconscious.</p> + +<p>Gregory examined Howard carefully.</p> + +<p>"His leg is broken," he announced. "And he's pretty well bruised up. He +must have got an awful jolt when he fell on these rocks." Jumping up, he +exclaimed: "I'll go and get something for splints," he said. "Make him +as comfortable as you can."</p> + +<p>When he returned Dickie noticed he carried a heavy oar which he had +fashioned into a rude crutch, a number of small strips of wood and a +piece of an old blanket.</p> + +<p>"Found them on the <i>Petrel</i>," he said as he set to work.</p> + +<p>Dickie assisted Gregory in caring for the wounded man. Her respect for +the young man increased as she noted the skilful manner with which he +worked. Soon Howard's leg was set and after a time he opened his eyes +and slowly regained consciousness. The sun was high overhead when they +were able to move the injured men. While Howard rested for a moment on +the ledge, Gregory carried the unconscious form of the other man to the +soft sea-grass and stretched him at full length. Then he thought of the +two men they had left on the narrow shelf by the sea.</p> + +<p>"I'd better have a look at Red-beard and the other fellow," he said +suddenly. "The water might come in there and wash them off."<!-- Page 117 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dickie nodded. "I'll stay here," she said, and Gregory hurried off.</p> + +<p>When he came back he shook his head. "Gone," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Washed off?"</p> + +<p>"Don't think so. The water hadn't quite got to where we left them. I +guess they sneaked."</p> + +<p>Dickie's eyes searched the sea while he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I can't understand what is keeping the boys from the <i>Curlew</i>," she +said. "We'd better get Tom aboard the <i>Petrel</i> where we can make him +more comfortable. Better bring the other fellow too. There's some whisky +on the boat unless those devils have stolen it too. Hello, what's that?"</p> + +<p>The quiet was broken by the sharp clatter of horses' hoofs. Looking in +the direction of the sound, Gregory saw a number of horsemen riding over +the crest of the bluff overlooking the cove.</p> + +<p>The fisherman glanced toward the dory which lay on the rocks at the +extreme end of the ledge.</p> + +<p>"Better beat it," he suggested.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang shook her head stubbornly. "No," she said. "We'll leave that +man here and the rest of us will get aboard. The <i>Petrel's</i> on tide land +and I'll be damned if any one's going to bluff me out."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 118 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>A WARNING</h3> + + +<p>From the <i>Petrel's</i> sloping deck they saw the horsemen appear in bold +silhouette against the sky-line. Swinging from their saddles they walked +to meet a white-shirted rider who galloped over the ridge and drew rein +among them.</p> + +<p>The newcomer remained astride his horse. Resting an arm on the horn of +his saddle, he stared into the little cove through his binoculars. +Satisfied apparently by what he saw, he dismounted and walked rapidly +toward the trail leading to the beach, the men following after him. As +they took their way down the cliff Gregory noticed that some of the men +carried rifles. When they reached the beach the white-shirted man walked +on alone, and without a backward glance, traversed the rocks in the +direction of the wreck.</p> + +<p>"He walks like a king," commented Dickie Lang. "I wonder if that is +Bandrist."</p> + +<p>Gregory noted the clean-cut figure of the stranger carefully. The man +was about his own height though of slighter build, the spareness of his +figure being emphasized by the close-fitting riding-trousers and the +thin silk shirt which fluttered about him as he<!-- Page 119 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> strode along. The +fair-haired stranger stopped abruptly when he reached the <i>Petrel's</i> +side. Flinging an arm upward with a careless gesture, and looking +straight at the girl, he said quietly:</p> + +<p>"I am unarmed. May I come aboard your vessel?"</p> + +<p>Only the slightest trace of the foreigner was discernible in his speech.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang nodded. "Come ahead," she said. "Whoever you are, you can +speak English at least."</p> + +<p>The visitor smiled as he caught the mast-stay and drew himself +gracefully over the rail.</p> + +<p>"I am Leo Bandrist," he introduced. "I fear my men have caused you some +annoyance. I am sorry."</p> + +<p>Dickie rehearsed the incidents leading up to the trouble with the +natives and when she had concluded, Bandrist's forehead wrinkled in a +frown.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," he repeated. "My men, you see, are very stupid. Very +ignorant. They understand but little English. Then, too, I have been +annoyed by others. You see, I have many sheep and wild goats upon the +island. Hunters come to shoot the goats, but they often mistake my sheep +for them. Fishermen also have caused me great trouble. I have fenced my +lands to keep them out; put up the signs the law tells me I must to +protect myself. But no, they disregard my rights. So I give my men +instructions to keep them out. When my rangers are opposed they grow +ugly. One of them tells me that one of your number began the attack. +That angered them, you see, and they fought back. It was but natural. +How<!-- Page 120 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>ever, I am sorry. I trust that none of your party has been seriously +injured."</p> + +<p>"Small thanks to you," Dickie snapped. "Your men tried hard enough to +commit murder." Nodding in the direction of the unconscious islander, +she added: "There's one of your outfit stretched out over there. Another +was half-drowned. The third tried to knife Mr. Gregory. I hit him in the +head with a monkey-wrench. They both got away or were washed off the +ledge."</p> + +<p>Bandrist shot a quick glance at Gregory as the girl mentioned the +cannery owner's name. At the girl's reference to her part in the affair +his eyes lighted with interest. Then the frown came again to his face.</p> + +<p>"That is the trouble," he said quickly. "My men do not understand. They +know only one way to fight. That is to win. If you will permit me, I +shall summon the others to care for their companion."</p> + +<p>He waited for the girl's consent. Then he waved his hand to the men on +the beach. When they were within ear-shot, Bandrist addressed them +rapidly, nodding toward the spot indicated by Dickie Lang. As the men +hurried away, he explained:</p> + +<p>"They come to me from many countries. Some of them are bad and cause me +much trouble. It is so lonesome out here that I can not keep good men. I +tell my fence-riders only to keep people away so that they will not kill +my sheep. Some of them I arm as you see, because those who hunt also +carry guns and are sometimes ugly."<!-- Page 121 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>He spread out his slender fingers apologetically.</p> + +<p>"Again I am sorry," he said. "If you desire to work now I will see that +you are undisturbed, if you will promise to leave the island when you +are through. You see I do not want any more trouble," he concluded with +frank emphasis. "My men will be very angry when they find their wounded +comrade. Sometimes it is difficult for me to restrain them."</p> + +<p>The excited jargon of the islanders as they came upon their disabled +fellow confirmed the truth of his words. Jabbering to themselves, and +casting sullen glances in the direction of the <i>Petrel</i>, they carried +the man over the ledge to the beach.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bandrist," said Dickie clearly. "I've as much right to be here as +you have. You can't legally keep me from taking the engine out of this +boat. She's on tide and you haven't any more claim to that than I have. +You know that as well as I do. I'm going to take my time. When I get +through, I'll go. And not before. If you are on the square you'll stay +here until I do. We don't want trouble any more than you do. But we're +not going to be bluffed out on this deal or any other."</p> + +<p>Bandrist's eyes shone with unconcealed admiration. He inclined his head +in response to her suggestion and exclaimed: "I shall be only too glad +to remain here until you are ready to leave."</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang turned quickly to Howard. "You keep off your feet, Tom," she +said. "I might as well<!-- Page 122 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> start in. The boys from the <i>Curlew</i> ought to +have been here long before this."</p> + +<p>Gregory pressed forward. "Tell me what to do," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl regarded him approvingly. "You can loosen the stud-bolts on the +motor first. Come on," she said. "I'll show you."</p> + +<p>Bandrist followed after them. "May I help?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head with decision. "Two's as many as can conveniently +work around the engine," she answered.</p> + +<p>The work of tearing down the motor began at once. Gregory wore the skin +from his knuckles in loosening the stud-bolts while Howard instructed +him from the doorway how to take off the carburetor and rip up the +feed-line. As they worked the girl made a rapid survey of the parts she +desired to salvage.</p> + +<p>"Some more of your friends?"</p> + +<p>Bandrist pointed seaward where a dory was rounding the point and heading +shoreward.</p> + +<p>The girl acknowledged his words with a curt nod.</p> + +<p>"Here come the boys from the <i>Curlew</i>," she announced.</p> + +<p>When the landing party reached the <i>Petrel's</i> side, Jones and Sorenson +stared in silence at the white-shirted man leaning against the rail.</p> + +<p>"Got things fixed up, Jones? You were a long time coming."</p> + +<p>The skipper of the <i>Curlew</i> climbed aboard before<!-- Page 123 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> replying. Drawing the +girl to one side, he said quietly: "Thing's pretty well shot, miss. Took +her down and found this."</p> + +<p>He extended a blackened handkerchief covered with fine dust. Dickie Lang +examined it carefully, rubbing the particles of black grit between her +fingers.</p> + +<p>"Emery dust?"</p> + +<p>Jones nodded. "She's full of it," he answered. "Don't dare and start her +up. She'd cut herself to pieces."</p> + +<p>Silently regarding the blackened particles, the girl asked: "Carlin was +with you yesterday you said, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Him and Jacobs."</p> + +<p>"Carlin's enough. I knew he was a dub. But I didn't think he had brains +enough to be a crook. I know now. Well, we've got enough trouble right +here for a while without bothering about your boat. You rip up the motor +and Sorenson and Mr. Gregory can strip the deck. We've got to hustle. It +will begin to rough up soon. Then we'll have to run with what we have. +She'll break up on the flood by the looks of things."</p> + +<p>Pausing for a moment to partake of a meager lunch which Dickie +discovered had been overlooked by the robber of the <i>Petrel</i>, all hands +turned again to the work of salvaging the motor.</p> + +<p>Through the long afternoon they worked in silence. As Gregory stripped +the iron chaulks from the deck and removed the stays, he noticed that +Bandrist<!-- Page 124 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> leaned idly against the rail with his blue eyes following the +movements of Dickie Lang with great interest. Once, before Gregory could +surmise his purpose, he sprang to the girl's side and assisted her with +a piece of shaft and the ease with which he handled the heavy brass +caused the young man to marvel.</p> + +<p>A queer specimen of man was Bandrist, he reflected, to be marooned in +such a spot as this. Gregory's work gave him a chance to study the +islander without being observed. He was a figure who merited more than a +passing glance. He would challenge attention in any environment. While +he twisted the galvanized turn-buckles, rusted by the salt-air, Gregory +appraised the man carefully.</p> + +<p>Trained to the minute and hard as nails, he catalogued the slender +figure. The long smooth-lying muscles were those of an athlete. He could +see them rippling at the open-throat and on the islander's wrist when he +raised his arm. The features too were worthy of notice. Line by line he +studied them. From the high forehead which bulged over the clear blue +eyes, to the delicately ovaled chin. The face was emotionless. Only the +curve of the thin lips showed the man beneath the mask. The lips were +cruel as death.</p> + +<p>The tall crags cast their irregular shadows athwart the cove and a +sudden puff of wind, which had freshened as the day wore on, ruffled the +quiet waters and caused them to slap angrily at the base of the ledge.<!-- Page 125 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +Dickie Lang cast a weather-eye to seaward and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Time we were getting in the clear, boys," she said. "The tide's +beginning to set in strong and the breeze is freshening. We've got about +all we dare fool with. I want to get clear of the Diablo coast before +the fog drifts any closer."</p> + +<p>The fishermen issued from the engine-house at her words and began to +gather up the parts of the dissembled motor and carry them to the +waiting skiffs. Then they assisted Howard to the dory. In a few moments +they were ready to shove off. Dickie stepped into the dory of the +<i>Pelican</i> which Jones shoved into the water.</p> + +<p>"I want to get Tom to the launch and have her ready to get under way," +she explained to Gregory. "Will you stay and help Sorenson load the rest +of the motor?"</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded and set to work. Bandrist's eyes followed the departing +skiff until it disappeared around the point. Then he motioned Gregory to +one side and began to speak: "Do not let her come out here again," he +said in a low voice. "Diablo is not a safe place for fishermen, much +less a woman. My men will not forget you. I was able to control them +to-day. The next time I might not be so fortunate."</p> + +<p>However well meant the warning might have been, it rankled in Gregory's +breast. He felt his instinctive dislike of Bandrist grow with the man's +words. Meeting the islander's eyes squarely, he said in a voice which +only Bandrist could hear:<!-- Page 126 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If it is necessary for us to come to Diablo again, Mr. Bandrist, we +will come. If you are unable to handle your men, that will be up to +you."</p> + +<p>For a moment the two men appraised each other in silence. Then Gregory +turned and walked to the waiting dory.</p> + +<p>In the purpling dusk they embarked from Diablo and sped across the +rippling water to the launch which lay in the offing. Looking back from +the stern-seat, Gregory saw the man on the ledge gazing after them with +folded arms.</p> + +<p>On the deck of the <i>Pelican</i> the girl was issuing hasty orders for the +return to the mainland.</p> + +<p>"Kick her over, Jones. Johnson, stand by the hook. Here comes the other +skiff. Get your stuff aboard, Sorenson, as quick as you can," she called +to the approaching dory, "and swing the boat on deck. We'll beat it out +of here and take the <i>Curlew</i> in tow. Make it lively, boys. We've got to +be under way."</p> + +<p>Swinging wide of the headland the <i>Pelican</i> plunged into the trough of +the swell and skirting the coast raced on to pick up the disabled +<i>Curlew</i>. Dickie Lang looked back at the dim outline of the cliffs as +they shadowed the sea.</p> + +<p>"Poor little <i>Pete</i>," she exclaimed softly. "It's tough. But it can't be +helped."</p> + +<p>Gregory alone heard her words.</p> + +<p>"It sure is," he said, feeling that the words were wholly inadequate. +"And I'm mighty sorry," he added.<!-- Page 127 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl started. "I guess I was thinking aloud," she said. "I didn't +know you heard." She set her lips together. "It's all in the game, I +know," she went on, "but no one but me knows how I hate to lose the +little <i>Petrel</i>."</p> + +<p>When they picked up the <i>Curlew</i> the fitful wind died suddenly and the +air grew heavy with moisture. The white clouds which scurried across the +face of the heavens dropped lower and massing themselves together +obscured the stars. Piloting the <i>Pelican</i> and her tow safely to the +high seas, the girl relinquished the wheel to Johnson with a sigh of +relief.</p> + +<p>"I'll rustle something to eat, Bill," she said. "We'll stand two-hour +watches. I'll take her next. I want to see if there is anything I can do +for Tom. I'll be in the cabin. Call me if you sight anything or it gets +thicker."</p> + +<p>Turning to Gregory, she exclaimed: "The next thing is to eat. I'm +starved myself, and I'll bet you're worse."</p> + +<p>Repairing to the cabin where the big fisherman was already asleep on the +bunk, they ate their first real meal of the day in silence. There was +much that they could have talked about, but one does not follow the sea +long without learning that opportunities to eat are sometimes golden, +and not lightly to be passed over or interfered with by conversation. It +was not until the last morsel of food had been consumed, therefore, that +Gregory made an effort to voice his thoughts.<!-- Page 128 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you think of Bandrist?" he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>The girl started, surprised that they should both be thinking of the +same man. Her forehead wrinkled slowly as she answered:</p> + +<p>"I think he's a crook. I don't know why exactly, but I just do. He's too +smooth. Too well educated for a sheep-man. He's up to something at +Diablo. Don't know what. Don't know that it is any of my business at +that. But I don't like him."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," Gregory admitted. "I sized him up as a mighty clever +man. He has a hard outfit out there and he pretends he can't control +them. That's the bunk. Did you notice how they took orders from him +without even talking back?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And he had most of them armed. With orders to keep people off of +the island. Why?" she asked suddenly. "I don't believe it's on account +of the sheep."</p> + +<p>Gregory shook his head emphatically.</p> + +<p>"That was bunk too," he said. "They knew we were not trying to hunt. I +suppose they did get pretty sore when we roughed it with them, but that +didn't give them any license to pull their knives and try to carve us +up. That crazy fool would have had me in another minute if it hadn't +been for you."</p> + +<p>Dickie sought to minimize her part in the affair.</p> + +<p>"I didn't do much," she said. "I was just lucky. You did all of the hard +work. I thought you were never coming up."<!-- Page 129 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You were dead game," Gregory cut in. "You saved me from that fellow's +knife and you know it."</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang made no reply but sat with her arms resting on the +cabin-table, looking off into space. Again she saw herself huddled +against the rocks, looking down into the sunlit water of the cove, +waiting for the men to come to the surface. What a fight Gregory must +have had to have freed himself from that strangle-hold and save the life +of the other man as well as his own. How skilfully he had worked over +Howard. He seemed to know just what to do. She raised her head sharply. +Not given to living in the past, she wondered why her mind had gone +wool-gathering. Perhaps it was because she was beginning to realize that +this man was a man among men. And real men were scarce. He was speaking +again.</p> + +<p>"There's something wrong at Diablo. I'd give a lot to find out what it +is."</p> + +<p>"It would cost a lot," she answered soberly. "And what business is it of +ours? Dad used to say that monkeying with other people's affairs was a +luxury he never could afford."</p> + +<p>"But if they interfere with fishing, it is some of our business."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but do they?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. That is, not yet," he was forced to admit.</p> + +<p>"Neither do I. Until I do, I'm not looking for any more trouble than I +can see ahead right now."</p> + +<p>Silence for several moments. Then, from the girl:<!-- Page 130 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Besides, you couldn't find out anything. The fishermen are scared stiff +of Diablo as it is. When this gets around, they'll be even worse. +They're not looking for more excitement. They have enough."</p> + +<p>To Gregory's mind recurred his plan of manning the girl's boats. Here +was an opportunity to justify it.</p> + +<p>"The bunch I'm figuring on wouldn't be afraid of it," he said. "In fact +I think they would kind of enjoy finding out."</p> + +<p>Dickie smiled. "Aren't you speaking two words for yourself?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He smiled too. "I'll admit I have some curiosity," he answered.</p> + +<p>The girl laughed. "You've got into the habit of fighting," she retorted. +"But the war is over now."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're right. But at Legonia I've an idea it has just begun."</p> + +<p>It was just what she would have had him say. What she would have said +herself if she had spoken her mind. She liked a man who wasn't afraid. +They were the kind one could tie to. Gregory's proposal again assailed +her. It had its advantages. She would think it over while she was at the +wheel.</p> + +<p>"Boat off starboard quarter," a gruff voice announced from the doorway.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang sprang to her feet and hurried on deck with Gregory +following close behind. From the gray gloom came the sharp exhaust of a +high-powered motor, running at top speed. As they looked in the<!-- Page 131 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +direction of the sound, which was fast changing to an angry roar, the +shifting wall of filmy fog was pierced by a flash of green.</p> + +<p>"Mascola!"</p> + +<p>Gregory was barely able to catch the girl's words above the uproar of +the gatlin-like exhaust. The next instant the green light flashed by and +was swallowed up in the gloom.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what he's doing out here running like that?" Dickie mused.</p> + +<p>"How do you know who it was?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "There's only one boat anywhere around here with an exhaust +like that," she answered. "That's the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>. She's the fastest +craft in southern waters of her kind. And no one ever runs her but +Mascola."</p> + +<p>Gregory continued to listen to the rapid-fire exhaust as it died away in +the distance. Then he pictured himself driving the trim craft, plunging +through the waves and hurling the spray into his face as he raced on. +Recalled to himself by the slow-moving <i>Pelican</i> burdened by her tow, he +reflected that speed sometimes was everything. If he was going to oppose +Mascola he would have to get there first. Dickie was speaking again.</p> + +<p>"Joe Barrows built her up at Port Angeles. Mascola hasn't had her very +long and he won't have her much longer if he pounds her like that. I +wonder what he's going out to Diablo for in such a hurry."</p> + +<p>Gregory could not answer. But he made up his<!-- Page 132 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> mind if he was ever going +to find out, he would have to have a faster boat than the <i>Fuor +d'Italia</i>. Perhaps Joe Barrows could help him out.</p> + +<p>Through the long night the <i>Pelican</i> crept into the thickening fog with +the disabled <i>Curlew</i>. Daybreak found them at the entrance to Crescent +Bay. When they reached the Lang docks the masts of the fishing-fleet +could be dimly discerned through the shifting mist like a forest of +bare-trunked trees.</p> + +<p>Dickie frowned.</p> + +<p>"The boys are late getting out," she observed. "I wonder what's the +matter."</p> + +<p>As they drew alongside the wharf it was evident that something unusual +was in the air. The pier was thronged with fishermen, gathered together +in little groups, leaning idly against the empty fish-boxes. At the +landing party's approach the low hum of conversation died away into a +faint murmur. A solitary figure, standing apart from the others, hurried +forward to meet the girl as she walked up the gangway.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Jack. What's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>McCoy nodded in the direction of the silent fishermen. "Trouble enough," +he whispered. "I'm mighty glad you've come, Dick. There's a strike on. +Carlin's got them all riled up and there's hell to pay."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 133 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE STRIKE</h3> + + +<p>A strike at this of all times! And Pete Carlin at the bottom of it! With +her nerves frayed raw by two nights of sleepless vigil and the memory of +the <i>Curlew's</i> disabled motor rankling within her, Dickie Lang brushed +by a group of men and confronted a bullet-headed man in a loose gray +sweater.</p> + +<p>"Carlin," she said clearly in a voice which all could hear, "you're +fired. You're a crook. If you'd work the clock around I wouldn't have +you on the job."</p> + +<p>Turning to the fishermen she rapidly related the incident of the finding +of the emery-dust in the <i>Curlew's</i> motor.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie," Carlin interrupted, "I don't——"</p> + +<p>"It's the truth, Pete Carlin, and you know it."</p> + +<p>Dickie moved closer to Carlin and her eyes met his. "You can't look me +in the eye and deny it," she challenged. As the man said nothing, she +flashed: "Get off my dock while you're still able to walk. If I was a +man I'd knock you down."</p> + +<p>The man grinned but did not move.</p> + +<p>"But you ain't," he retorted. "I reckon I ain't<!-- Page 134 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> goin' to have no fool +girl tell me where to head in at. I reckon I——"</p> + +<p>A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and his sentence remained unfinished. +Gregory's eyes were snapping close to Carlin's.</p> + +<p>"Beat it," he said, "while the trail's open."</p> + +<p>Carlin flashed a glance over his shoulder at the fishermen who stood +looking on in stoical silence. Then he decided to go. Mumbling to +himself, he turned sullenly from the men about him and walked slowly +down the dock.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang faced the silent fishermen.</p> + +<p>"Now, boys, what is it? I'll hear what you've got to say. But I won't +have any dealings with a crook."</p> + +<p>The men about her shuffled their feet and drew closer. Then a man in a +faded plaid jumper detached himself from the others and began to speak.</p> + +<p>"We ain't got nothin' against you, Miss Lang," he began uncertainly. +"But we've all got to look out for ourselves. We got families and folks +dependin' on us. Livin' 's out of sight. So is clothes and everything. +We——"</p> + +<p>"What's your proposition, Blagg?"</p> + +<p>The fisherman hesitated at the directness of the question. Then he +recited: "Straight time. Eight-hour day for six dollars. Double money +for overtime and Sundays."</p> + +<p>Dickie started at the demand. Carlin had done his work well to set such +a limit as that. She wondered<!-- Page 135 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> how far the seeds of discontent had +spread among the others. As her eye traveled over the silent groups, +Blagg went on:</p> + +<p>"You see, miss, as I say we got families and the women-folks——"</p> + +<p>"Don't blame the women, Joe," interrupted the girl. "If they got half of +what the saloons leave they'd have no kick coming. I'll bet they're not +back of this. You've been listening to a half-baked fool who couldn't +make a living if dollars grew on trees. All Pete Carlin can do is talk. +You boys know he isn't a fisherman."</p> + +<p>She stepped closer and her voice dropped to a conversational tone. "It +just isn't in the business, boys. If I promised to pay those wages I +couldn't do it. I'd be broke with the first run of bad luck and you know +it as well as I do, if you'd stop to think. The man doesn't live who can +pay that around here and get out."</p> + +<p>Blagg smiled knowingly at the fishermen.</p> + +<p>"You're wrong, miss," he said. "We've already got the offer for a job at +them terms."</p> + +<p>"Not here?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Right here in town. We won't have to move nor nothin'." +Watching the effect of his words upon the girl, he went on, carried away +by the importance of his announcement. "That's why we're puttin' it up +to you. You've always shot pretty square with us. But money talks, and +we all got to look out for Number One. I reckon none of the boys is +honein' to go to work for a furrinor, but we all<!-- Page 136 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> knows his money's good +as yours and that's what counts."</p> + +<p>"You mean you're going to ditch me for Mascola?"</p> + +<p>Blagg dropped his eyes to the planks of the wharf before the girl's +steady gaze.</p> + +<p>"We don't aim to ditch nobody," he said awkwardly. "But we got to live. +The dago's offered us six day straight with double for overtime and +Sundays. We ain't decided yet. We waited to give you a chance."</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang listened quietly, her eyes roaming among the knots of silent +fishermen. Some she noticed stood close and as their spokesman went on, +shuffled closer. Others held aloof. When Blagg had concluded, she began +to speak in a voice which carried to the detached groups of men standing +in the back row.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to say much. But what I do say I want it to sink in. Come +up closer all of you where we can see one another."</p> + +<p>When the fishermen ranged themselves about her, she looked hard into +their weather-beaten faces and went on earnestly: "Boys, you've known me +since I was a kid. Most of you knew my dad. If you did, you knew a man. +He had to fight hard for a living. But he shot square every foot of the +way. Some of you were here when he came."</p> + +<p>She singled out a few of the older men and spoke directly to them: "Do +you think you'd be here now if it hadn't been for Bill Lang? What were +the Rus<!-- Page 137 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>sians and Austrians doing to you when he came? You were all down +on your uppers and didn't know where your next meal was coming from. Who +was it that took up your fight? Who backed you with boats and gear and +taught you how to fish so you could hold your own against the outsiders? +You know without my telling you."</p> + +<p>Some of the older fishermen dropped their eyes to the rough board planks +at the girl's words. There was no doubt that Lang had been square. But +as Blagg had pointed out, a man had to look out for himself.</p> + +<p>"You think that hasn't anything to do with your quitting me to get more +money? All right. I'll show you that it has. Let me ask you some +questions. What is Mascola paying his own fishermen? Why should he pay +you fellows twice that much? Does he think you'll rob more traps, lay +round more nets and run more men off the beach with his seine? Why +should he pay you six dollars when he can load up with a gang that'll do +what he says for three? Is that business?"</p> + +<p>She paused and her lips compressed in a straight line as she went on: +"You can answer those questions just as well as I can. You know what +Mascola's game is. He thinks he's going to put me out of business. He's +trying to crowd me off the sea. What do you suppose will become of you +if he makes good? How long will you get that six dollars a day with the +Lang fleet out of commission? You've been fighting his men for a square +deal ever since you came here. And<!-- Page 138 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> now you're figuring on helping them +run you out of your own town."</p> + +<p>Blagg noticed that several of the men were falling back and whispering +among themselves. Scenting signs of a break among his ranks, he felt it +was up to him to say something. Well, he had his trump card yet to play.</p> + +<p>"We ain't such fools as you think," he said. "We ain't gone at this +thing without considering pretty careful and gettin' good advice. Last +night some of us had a meetin' and talked things over. Mr. Rock was +there and he give us some mighty good advice. He says to the boys that +it was every feller for himself and——"</p> + +<p>"Rock's got a mortgage on your house, hasn't he, Joe?"</p> + +<p>Blagg flushed beneath his tan.</p> + +<p>"I reckon that ain't got nothing to do with it if he has," he +challenged. "And you understand I ain't even sayin' he has. But he's a +business man."</p> + +<p>"And a hypocrite," supplemented Dickie Lang. "Nobody knows that any +better than I. He lied to me and tried to flim-flam me out of my boats +before my dad was buried a week. If I'd fallen for it he would have had +me right where he's got you, Joe. But I didn't. And when he found out I +was going to stick to you boys, he called me a fool and said no white +man could compete against Mascola's men."</p> + +<p>As she paused for breath, Gregory saw Tom<!-- Page 139 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> Howard hobbling through the +crowd, speaking in low tones with the fishermen.</p> + +<p>"One minute more and I'm through," the girl concluded. "We're up against +a hard fight here at Legonia. A fight for Americans to fish their own +waters. Sounds foolish, but you know it's the truth. When my father and +Mr. Gregory were drowned off Diablo, Mascola thought he had us beaten. +Rock thought so, too. But I'm telling you we're going to fool them both. +There's something wrong around here, boys, when we can't get a +fifty-fifty break on our own coast. And we're going to find out what it +is."</p> + +<p>Seeing that she had the ear of the men at last, she walked closer.</p> + +<p>"Listen, boys, I've got a big proposition to offer you. One that will +beat Mascola's like an ace beats a deuce. Because this one is on the +square."</p> + +<p>The fishermen crowded closer while she went on:</p> + +<p>"You know what we've been up against here for years to get good help. +You boys have been working short-handed most of the time. Doing more +work than it was up to you to do. I've got a plan now to get all the men +you want. Good men too. Fellows who have been tried out, red-blooded +men. Fighters! I want you men to train them. Show them how to fish. In a +little while they'll be doing all the work and I'll pay you four dollars +a day straight time with a dollar a day more if you stick through the +season. But better than that I'll give you a share in the profits<!-- Page 140 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> of +not only my own business, but the Legonia Fish Cannery as well."</p> + +<p>Gregory gulped. It was Dickie's voice all right. But the words were his +own. There was some mistake somewhere. He strove to regain control of +his scattered senses as Blagg burst out:</p> + +<p>"You're figurin' to start somethin' you can't finish, ain't you? You +ain't bought the cannery already, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry about that, Blagg. I know what I'm talking about. Mr. +Gregory and I are partners on this deal."</p> + +<p>Blagg was taken back by the girl's announcement. Almost as much so as +Gregory himself.</p> + +<p>"Suppose there ain't no profits?" put in another fisherman.</p> + +<p>"That's your lookout as well as mine." Again the girl took Gregory's +words and went on: "But there will be. I'm going to get a bunch of +ex-navy men down here that mean business. They won't let Mascola, Rock +or anybody else bluff them off the sea. All they want is a chance to +learn the game. You boys can teach it to them right."</p> + +<p>Blagg stepped back and began to whisper to the men about him. The other +fishermen looked at one another and listened for Bill Lang's girl to go +on:</p> + +<p>"You fellows all know the advantage it gives you to have enough boats +and men. If you break down and get into any trouble, it's pretty good to +have<!-- Page 141 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> somebody standing by to give you a hand. And you know that Mascola +knows how to make trouble."</p> + +<p>Turning to the older men, some of whom had already begun to feel their +joints stiffening with rheumatism, she said: "Fishing's a hard game, +boys, for the best of us. And it doesn't get any easier as we get older. +There's a lot of you who will have to go into dry-dock before long and +get patched up. And there's some that can't afford to lay up. You've +been working with your hands too long. You've got to ease up and use +your brains. That's what I want to hire now. These young fellows are +eager to help you. It will be up to you to show them what to do."</p> + +<p>Could this be the girl who had angrily announced that she intended to +run her business in her own way? Gregory could only stare at Dickie +Lang. So far, she had not even included him as being a partner to the +idea, save by her pledge of the profits of his cannery. Surely she would +explain her sudden change of heart. Listening intently, he heard her +conclude:</p> + +<p>"Think it over, boys. It's a chance that may never come again. If there +are any questions you'd like to ask, shoot."</p> + +<p>Blagg noted that her words were having a marked effect upon the silent +fishermen. Seeking to stem the tide of the reaction which he felt was +setting in against him, he began to make objections.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang met his arguments with painstaking explanations and the +objections gradually became fewer, simmering down into more or less +intelligent<!-- Page 142 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> questions. Gregory noticed that the fishermen began to +retire and clustered together in little groups while they talked +earnestly among themselves. Still there came no explanation from the +girl. She was championing his ideas as if they had been her own +cherished plans.</p> + +<p>At length the various knots of men drew further apart and faced each +other in two well-marked divisions. To the left stood Joe Blagg, about +him clustering the younger and more radical element of the fishing +colony. On the right the property-owners and heads of families for the +most part, drew closer to Big Jack Stuss, their acknowledged leader.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang regarded the two factions carefully, striving to count their +ranks. Each was about evenly divided, she figured, with Big Jack's +constituency slightly in the lead.</p> + +<p>Blagg stepped forward and began to speak: "It's six straight for me and +mine," he said. "Them's our terms. The boys can't see your new-fangled +proposition at all."</p> + +<p>"It's up to you," the girl replied coolly. "If that's the way you feel, +you can get your money. But before you do, I'd advise you to talk it +over at home. Don't forget that I'm fighting for you—not against you. +It might be pretty nice to remember some time that you tried to help +yourselves. Think it over before you get your checks."</p> + +<p>As she finished speaking, Big Jack got slowly under way. Elbowing a path +through the crowd he shuffled<!-- Page 143 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>closer, hitching at the straining +suspender to which was entrusted the task of holding in place his two +pairs of baggy canvas trousers. Shifting from one bowed knee to the +other, he contemplated his great bare toes in silence while he drew in a +deep breath which filled his huge lungs to the bursting point and caused +the muscles of his neck to stand out in purpled knots.</p> + +<p>Dickie waited, knowing full well that it was Big Jack's invariable +preface for speech. When the big fisherman had secured enough +compression to proceed, he boomed forth in a fog-horn voice:</p> + +<p>"Me and my fellers has decided to stick. Youse fellers can count on us +if you shoot square. We's willin' to take a chanct."</p> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="./images/image-4.jpg"> +<img src="./images/image-4_th.jpg" alt='"Me and my fellers has decided to stick"' title='"Me and my fellers has decided to stick"' /> +</a></p> +<p class="figcenter">"Me and my fellers has decided to stick"</p> + +<p>His sentences were interpolated with great gusts of surplus breath. As +he finished speaking he lumbered away to rejoin his companions.</p> + +<p>"That's the stuff, boys. It's the way I like to hear men talk. It shows +you've got the sand. Take it from me, you'll never be sorry you stuck."</p> + +<p>She walked forward and passed familiarly among them while the Blagg +faction melted slowly away and straggled down the dock in the direction +of the town.</p> + +<p>Gregory stood with McCoy while the excitement quieted down and Dickie +despatched the fishing-boats on their accustomed morning cruise.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll say you've done wonders," McCoy was saying. "Who would ever +have thought that Dick would have given in?"<!-- Page 144 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory nodded weakly. "I was rather surprised myself," he admitted.</p> + +<p>McCoy looked at his watch. "I must go," he said. "It's almost time to +blow the whistle. Coming up soon?"</p> + +<p>Gregory promised to be on hand as soon as he got his breakfast and McCoy +hurried off. When the last of her remaining men had left the dock, +Gregory noticed the girl coming toward him. Now he would learn the +reason for her sudden change of mind. He listened eagerly for the +explanation.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang passed a slim brown hand slowly over her forehead and +replaced a tousled lock of red-brown hair.</p> + +<p>"Now," she said calmly, "when can you get me my men?"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 145 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE MOTHER OF INVENTION</h3> + + +<p>Everything was coming his way. Kenneth Gregory glanced again at his +first balance-sheet. The cannery had been in operation but a single +month and already the business was exceeding his fondest expectations. +He glanced at the chart which hung by his side. Forty-two completely +equipped fishing-boats in the water and every one fully manned. He +smiled as he thought of Dickie Lang's astonishment at the manner in +which the ex-navy men had taken hold of the work.</p> + +<p>His smile broadened too as he noted the receipts from the fresh fish and +the canned product. Fishing had sure been good. And there had been +little or no interference from Mascola. Since the day when Dickie had +accepted his proposition all had gone smoothly. Gregory attributed his +success to the carrying out of an idea. It had worked. It had to work. +And it was <i>his</i> idea.</p> + +<p>On the floor of the cannery, Dickie Lang was also analyzing the +phenomenal success of the Legonia Fish Cannery while she waited for the +owner to accompany her on their daily cruise to the fishing grounds.<!-- Page 146 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Jack, it gets my goat how things began to pick up the +very minute I threw up my contract. He's had nothing but luck ever +since."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't say that, Dick," McCoy objected. "The boss's idea was worth +something. Of course I——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, rats! I'm sick of hearing everybody talking about an idea. All +these fellows in here think that Kenneth Gregory can't make a mistake. +They think that nobody else could have done what he did."</p> + +<p>"That's what you want fellows to think who are working for you, isn't +it?" ventured McCoy.</p> + +<p>Dickie gasped. Had McCoy too fallen a victim to hero-worship? McCoy, who +had been her loyal friend, and servant? She determined to find out to +what extent he had transferred his allegiance.</p> + +<p>"Do you think Mr. Gregory did any more than I could have done?" she +flashed.</p> + +<p>McCoy endeavored to temporize. "Well, in a way he didn't," he said, "and +then again he did. You see——"</p> + +<p>But Dickie refused to see. Whirling angrily, she walked rapidly toward +the office. Anything to get away from hearing Gregory's praises chanted +from every lip. Better be with the idol himself than his devout +followers. She flung open the door and entered the office. Gregory faced +her with a smile. A self-satisfied smile, the girl thought. In his hand +was a paper.<!-- Page 147 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look at that," he exclaimed. "My idea has worked out a lot better than +I anticipated."</p> + +<p>Dickie glanced coldly at the sheet but made no effort to take it from +his hand. Looking him full in the eye, she observed:</p> + +<p>"I'm about caught up with that idea of yours. I don't see that there is +anything in it to cause any one to get the swelled-head."</p> + +<p>"Who's getting the swelled-head?" demanded Gregory, the smile passing +from his face.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not," retorted the girl, laying special stress on the +pronoun. "I've seen too much of this game to have my head turned by a +little luck."</p> + +<p>Gregory overlooked the implication and admitted soberly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, we sure have had luck. There's no denying that. I never had any +idea the boys would take to the game the way they have."</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't if it hadn't been for my fishermen taking all the trouble +they did with them. Why, a lot of those fellows were seasick when they +first came down here. They were 'rocking-chair sailors.' My men made +them what they are. I don't see any luck in that."</p> + +<p>Gregory smiled provokingly.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't suppose there was," he said. "What I meant was I was lucky +in getting hold of men who really wanted to learn. You've admitted +several times that they got along faster than you had any idea they +would."<!-- Page 148 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Anybody could catch fish the way they've been running the last few +weeks," evaded Dickie. "I never saw anything like it before. Nearly +every boat comes in with a good haul. And when the local market was +glutted at Port Angeles, you shot them up north and just tumbled on to a +good market as Frisco was out of fish. That was nothing but luck," she +challenged.</p> + +<p>"And now we have orders for all canned stuff we can turn out," Gregory +put in.</p> + +<p>"Sure you have. From the Western outfit. I wouldn't trust them out of +sight with a case of fish. They'll eat the stuff up as long as you can +throw it to them in big lots. That gives them a chance to beat you down +on the price. The first bad run of luck you have, they'll drop you cold. +I know. They did the same thing with your father the very first time <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'be'">he</ins> +began to fall down on his output."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but——"</p> + +<p>"You're not going to fall down." She took the words from his mouth and +hurried on: "That is just what I was afraid of. Your luck has gone to +your head. You have an idea things are always going to be like this. I +know better. And you'll know before you get through. The fish are liable +to head out to sea any day."</p> + +<p>"You guessed wrong about what I was going to say," Gregory announced. "I +was going to tell you I had an order from Winfield & Camby for a +shipment of albacore if we can get them out right away.<!-- Page 149 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> Suppose the +fish do run to sea," he went on. "I'll back you to find them if any one +can. And we're well equipped now to follow them up."</p> + +<p>Dickie was somewhat mollified but she took care not to show it.</p> + +<p>"You're not figuring on Mascola either," she began.</p> + +<p>"Mascola," Gregory repeated. "Why, he's been decent enough the last two +or three weeks."</p> + +<p>"I know it," she interrupted. "That's what has me guessing. It isn't +like Mascola to be that way. He's been checking up on us right along, +but he hasn't bothered any of our boats since he lost the <i>Roma</i>. It's +about time he showed his hand."</p> + +<p>"We have nearly as many boats as he has now," Gregory observed. "Maybe +he thinks——"</p> + +<p>Again the girl anticipated his words.</p> + +<p>"Get that out of your head," she snapped. "If you think Mascola's quit, +you're wrong. The more boats dad got, the harder Mascola fought him. +It's only when an outfit gets big enough to make a showing that he +begins to get busy."</p> + +<p>"We'll have the rest of the cannery boats out the last of the week," +Gregory announced. "I'll have the boys rush them. We won't start +anything, but just get good and ready. It's Mascola's move. I've made it +perfectly clear to all the men that we are not looking for trouble."</p> + +<p>Dickie was silent for a moment. Then she said:</p> + +<p>"I have an idea that Rock gave Mascola a 'bum<!-- Page 150 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> steer' and that both of +them are just beginning to find out their mistake."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that Rock guessed wrong. He told a lot of people around town +when you opened up that you'd be broke in thirty days. He and Mascola +are pretty thick and the chances are he told Mascola the same thing and +the dago believed him. Now they're beginning to find out they slipped up +in not trying to cripple you before you got your men broken in. I've +just got a hunch it won't be long before we hear from Mascola. He's +bringing more boats in here every day from down the coast and the +islands."</p> + +<p>Seeing they were getting nowhere by their talk, Gregory tossed the +balance sheet to the desk and got to his feet.</p> + +<p>"We'd better be on our way," he said.</p> + +<p>With Dickie following, he lead the way out into the cannery where he +stopped for a moment to speak to McCoy. "I'm going outside for a while, +Mac. If the Western people call up, tell them we're shipping the last of +those sardines to-day. Sound them out on albacore prices in job lots."</p> + +<p>Dickie turned away at the mention of the jobbers. Gregory evidently +thought very little of her advice. Biting her lips, she walked to the +door to wait on the receiving platform. McCoy watched his employer +follow after her. Dick was sore at him. He'd have to go up to the house +this evening and try to square<!-- Page 151 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> himself. She was evidently sore at +Gregory, too. And in that thought, McCoy derived some consolation.</p> + +<p>With the crisp sea air fanning their faces as they headed out to sea, +Dickie's irritability vanished. Desirous of starting conversation after +a protracted silence, she began: "Who do you think I saw down-town the +other day?"</p> + +<p>Gregory could not guess. "I was in the bank," she began after a moment, +hoping Gregory would not notice that at times she did frequent Rock's +institution. "And that crazy fool, Boris, was in there trying to borrow +some money. He's been hanging round town ever since Mascola fired him. +When I've seen him he's been drunk on Japanese <i>sake</i>. He has it in for +me because all the fishermen kid him about being run on the rocks by a +girl. When I stepped back from the teller's window, Boris lunged against +me and started to mumble something. But before he had hardly opened his +mouth, a well-dressed man came from somewhere and threw him half across +the room. And who do you think it was?"</p> + +<p>Again Gregory shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Bandrist."</p> + +<p>As Gregory voiced his surprise, the girl went on:</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have known him. He was all dolled-up and looked like a +different man. He knew me all right and he had the nerve to ask me if he +could come to see me," she concluded.</p> + +<p>Gregory's dislike of Bandrist increased.</p> + +<p>"What did you tell him?" he asked.<!-- Page 152 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dickie laughed.</p> + +<p>"I told him I wasn't any more anxious to receive callers at my home than +he was at his."</p> + +<p>Gregory wondered if the caustic answer to Bandrist might have been +retailed for his own benefit. He reflected suddenly that Dickie Lang had +never so much as intimated that he would be a welcome guest at her home. +Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. He had never bothered the +girl, and never would.</p> + +<p>"Bandrist is no ordinary sheep-man," she went on. "And I know it. He's +working some kind of a game over there that he doesn't want people to +butt in on." She paused abruptly and her eyes narrowed. "I wonder," she +began, but left her sentence unfinished as she noticed that Gregory was +regarding her curiously.</p> + +<p>"What?" he prompted.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she said. "Maybe some day I'll tell you. But not now."</p> + +<p>Gregory knew her well enough to know that nothing could be gained by +urging. During the silence that fell upon them the minds of both were +working in parallel grooves, groping for a way of light to lighten the +darkness of an unsolved mystery. When they reached the albacore banks +and sighted the vanguard of the fishing fleet, both came back sharply, +back from the maze of doubt and intangible suspicions which clouded +their brains as the fog had clouded the island that held their thoughts.</p> + +<p>Making the rounds of the albacore fishermen the truth of the girl's +pessimistic prophecy became strik<!-- Page 153 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>ingly apparent. The fish had +undoubtedly taken to sea. Laying-to to check one of the last of the few +remaining boats which rode at anchor, Dickie consulted her tally-sheet +and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Not much in this," she averred. "It's a losing game so far. And there's +only Big Jack with the <i>Albatross</i> yet to hear from. We ought to find +him cruising off the seal rocks. He's generally the first out and the +last to come in. He never gives up while there's a chance left. I've +seen him 'chumming' for albacore all day and then bring in a bunch hours +after everybody else had given up."</p> + +<p>As they drew near the <i>Albatross</i> she hailed the fisherman: "How are the +fish, Jack?"</p> + +<p>Big Jack continued throwing the live bait from the tanks into the water. +Then he straightened up and hitched at his suspender.</p> + +<p>"They're beginnin' to come in like hell," he bellowed.</p> + +<p>The fisherman was right. Gregory looked over the rail and gasped with +wonderment. The sea about them was literally alive with fish. The lines +which flashed over the side of the <i>Albatross</i> scarcely touched the +water before the fish struck.</p> + +<p>Dickie's eyes snapped at the sight.</p> + +<p>"Put her about," she cried to Gregory. "And beat it as fast as you can +for home. We'll make a killing if we can just overhaul enough of the +boys to get in on the run. Load up, Jack," she called as the vessel +swung about. "Cruise up and down and keep<!-- Page 154 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> 'chumming' so we won't lose +them. We're going after the fleet. Pound her for all she'll stand," she +instructed Gregory. "Every minute means money."</p> + +<p>They had been running only a few minutes when they sighted Mascola's +speed-boat astern. The girl frowned as the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> roared by in +a swirl of white water.</p> + +<p>"This is where speed counts," she exclaimed. "If Mascola tumbles on to +Big Jack he'll have his gang around the <i>Albatross</i> before we can get +within hailing distance of our nearest boat."</p> + +<p>Gregory watched the rapidly disappearing speed-boat anxiously. It was on +his tongue to tell the girl of the launch Joe Barrows was building for +him at Port Angeles, a craft which the boat-builder guaranteed in the +contract would beat the boat he had built for the Italian.</p> + +<p>"Keeping in close touch is everything in this business," Dickie +observed. "Fish come in bunches. The ocean's spotted like a +checker-board. You may have one boat loading up and another right around +the next point doing nothing. That's where Mascola wins out," she +exclaimed. "He scouts round and tips his fleet off if you've anything +good. Then they're down on you like a flock of gulls."</p> + +<p>Before they caught up with the stragglers of the cannery fleet they +sighted the alien fishing-boats coming in their direction. Dickie's brow +was overcast.</p> + +<p>"Just what I was afraid of," she cried. "He's tipped them off. We're +going to lose a lot to-day on<!-- Page 155 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> account of not being able to keep closer +together and being shy on a fast boat. You might as well get the idea of +filling that albacore order out of your head right now."</p> + +<p>As they overhauled the cannery boats and headed them back to the seal +rocks, Gregory considered the girl's words about keeping in closer +touch. If he was going to beat Mascola, he'd have to get there first. +The speed-launch which Barrows was building for him would serve as a +signal boat, but even that would not serve to keep the other boats in +constant touch with one another. Before they reached the last of the +available boats they met Mascola coming back. While the girl stormed at +their helplessness to cope with the situation, Gregory spoke in +monosyllables and wrestled with his problem.</p> + +<p>He considered the methods of communication employed by the army in +connecting the various units. One by one he discarded them. The +semaphore would serve only for short distances and then only when the +boats were within sight of each other. The same argument would apply +against the wig-wag. The heliograph would be useless in stormy weather +or in fog. A fast launch would help out, but even that would not +completely solve the difficulty. How did boats keep in touch with one +another? The answer came at once. Why hadn't he thought of it before?</p> + +<p>When they came in sight of the seal rocks they saw the masts of the two +fleets clustered thickly about the <i>Albatross</i>.<!-- Page 156 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look at that," snapped the girl. "Now, maybe you'll believe I know what +I'm talking about. We were asleep and Mascola's beat us to it. It won't +take him long to fish them out with an outfit like that. He's got our +boats on the outside now, taking what's left."</p> + +<p>Gregory saw that she was right. Mascola's boats were crowded closely +about the <i>Albatross</i> and his own fleet was completely fenced off.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you? He's got them already. Look! He's ready to move. +While we've been crawling along in this old tub, he's cleaned up."</p> + +<p>The alien fleet began to get under way as she spoke and headed about. +Darting past his boats came Mascola. Noting the tardy arrival of the +oncoming launch, he made straight for them. Slowing down, he drifted by +with his white teeth flashing in an insolent smile. Then he opened the +throttle and the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> leaped forward and raced away with an +angry roar.</p> + +<p>When they reached the <i>Albatross</i>, Big Jack was apoplectic with rage. It +was some minutes before he could master his speech sufficiently to +explain the situation. Mascola had arrived when they were hardly out of +sight, had watched them pulling in the fish and had gone at once to +summon his boats. The aliens had come upon him from around the point in +ever-increasing numbers. Had hedged him and taken his school. When the +cannery boats arrived the albacore quit biting and took to other +waters.<!-- Page 157 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dickie Lang issued orders for the return of the fleet to Legonia. Then +she vented her wrath on Kenneth Gregory.</p> + +<p>"So you thought you had Mascola beaten, did you? What did I tell you? +Didn't I say he'd come back at the first chance? Albacore fishing is +where he's always been strong. And that's about all there is from now +on. We've got to come alive and forget these ideas and get down to brass +tacks. Mascola beat us hands down and we couldn't lift a finger to stop +him. What are you going to do about it? That's what I want to know."</p> + +<p>Gregory curbed his rising anger and answered quietly:</p> + +<p>"Before I tell you what I'm going to do, I'd like to ask you a question. +What could we have done legally to break through Mascola's fence?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. That's where he had us. He got there first. To get in to the +fish we'd have had to ram his boats and he'd have you up before the +local inspectors in no time if you had done that. If he had laid his +nets around ours it would have been different. You could demand sea-way +and run through them if he didn't move. But this way he had us over a +barrel. And he knew it. It's a trick no white man would do. But I guess +even you will admit now that there isn't a drop of white blood in that +dago's body."</p> + +<p>"Then about the only way we could have beaten him," pursued Gregory, +"would have been to have got there first and covered our own boats. Is +that right?"<!-- Page 158 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. But that is not so easy as it sounds."</p> + +<p>"It is not so hard either," Gregory went on. "I have an idea that I +think will work out all right."</p> + +<p>Dickie's eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>"Forget your ideas!" she snapped. "You've got to have a whole lot more +than ideas when you start out to beat Mascola."</p> + +<p>Gregory felt his patience oozing from him at her words. It was bad +enough to lose an order from a firm he hoped to get in strong with, +without the girl rubbing it in.</p> + +<p>"You haven't done anything yet but find fault," he said. "You have been +at this game a lot longer than I have. Maybe you have something to +suggest."</p> + +<p>Something in his voice caused Dickie to quiet down. She began to cast +about in her mind for an answer.</p> + +<p>"You've got to keep your boats in closer touch," she began. "So Mascola +can't work this same deal on us again."</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what I am going to do."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to show me."</p> + +<p>"I will. I'm going to show you and Mascola both. By wireless."</p> + +<p>Before she could interrupt, he hurried on: "Listen. Half of these navy +men know the International code. The others can learn easy enough with +some one to teach them who has worked at a radio key. I have several who +have done that and can rig the sets."<!-- Page 159 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You must think you're a millionaire. You aren't running a line of +steamships. Come down to——"</p> + +<p>"The sets won't cost much," Gregory went on calmly. "If they did all +these kids along the shore wouldn't have them. A fifty or +one-hundred-mile radius would be enough for us. And it wouldn't take +them long to pay for themselves. If we had had the boats equipped with +radio outfits to-day we could have beaten Mascola at his own game. When +Big Jack 'chummed' up the albacore the rest of our boats would have +known it before Mascola got there. The fish he caught to-day would pay +for quite a few sets."</p> + +<p>"It would pay for itself in another way if it would work," supplemented +Dickie, much to Gregory's surprise. "Lots of times a boat breaks down +and drifts on to a reef. If she could get word to some one close by they +could take her in tow or even pull her off before she was hurt much."</p> + +<p>Discussing the pros and cons of the new idea, they took their way toward +Legonia. When they arrived at the Lang wharf the girl grudgingly +admitted that the plan might work. At least it might justify a trial. +Leaving Dickie at her own dock Gregory was about to proceed up the bay +to the cannery wharf when she came over to the rail and exclaimed in a +low voice:</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Another thing. I didn't have a chance to look at that +statement you had this morning. If you're not too busy to-night, you +might bring it up to the house."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 160 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>BUSINESS AND PLEASURE</h3> + + +<p>Alone in his little room in the fish cannery Kenneth Gregory found +himself confronted by a new and unexpected problem. A hurried glance at +his watch only served to aggravate the tense lines which creased his +forehead. It was seven-thirty already. He was due at the Lang residence +at eight. And what was he going to wear?</p> + +<p>The seriousness of the situation became painfully apparent as he pawed +over his wardrobe. His pre-war clothes had served nicely to wear about +the cannery. But they were hopelessly out of style. Why hadn't he taken +the time to have had something decent made in Port Angeles instead of +taking the first thing in 'hand-me-downs' which the salesman had +offered? He surveyed the suit ruefully. Then he reflected that his +errand was purely one of business and hastily donned the garments.</p> + +<p>A nasty fit, he admitted to himself, as he looked into the mirror. He'd +like to get his hands on the man who talked him into it. He looked at +his shoes. They too caused him a commensurate amount of worry. Built on +lines of comfort they displayed a total dis<!-- Page 161 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>regard of fashion. The +longer he examined his attire the more conscious he became of its +defects. Turning from the glass he walked with disgust from the room.</p> + +<p>The moon was shining bright when Gregory reached the Lang cottage. +Pausing on the graveled walk to reef in his vest, he walked up the steps +and fumbled about for the bell.</p> + +<p>Dickie welcomed him at the door.</p> + +<p>"I hardly knew you in those clothes," she began. "They do make a +difference, don't they?"</p> + +<p>Gregory pulled his coat closer about him and agreed that they did. Then +he noticed that the girl had discarded her man's attire and was clothed +in a plain white dress. In the light of the little hallway her hair +gleamed like dull gold.</p> + +<p>She led the way into a small living-room upon the floor of which a +number of vari-colored rag rugs were scattered about. By a big sewing +table sat a little woman in black. A light shawl draped her shoulders +and a white cap covered her gray-threaded hair. At their entrance she +laid aside her knitting and smiled.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Gregory, Aunt Mary," Dickie announced in a loud voice. To +Gregory she added: "Miss Lang, my father's sister. She is very hard of +hearing."</p> + +<p>Gregory bowed as he took the hand Miss Lang extended.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to know you," she said. "Real glad. Your father was one of my +few friends. We enjoyed many pleasant games of checkers together."<!-- Page 162 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her keen gray eyes appraised him while she spoke and under the frankness +of her stare, Gregory felt his coat collar slowly pulling away from his +neck. Passing a hand nervously to the lapel he jerked the garment into +place while he responded to her greeting.</p> + +<p>"Richard all over again," announced Miss Lang when she had finished her +inspection. "The same eyes, the square chin. Even the same nervous +manner of hitching at your clothes."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mary!" Dickie expostulated. "You're too personal. You——"</p> + +<p>But Miss Lang went on with a smile which put her guest wholly at his +ease: "You won't mind what an old lady like me says, I'm sure. I always +told your father just what I thought. And I'm going to do the same with +you."</p> + +<p>Gregory listened attentively while she told him of her first meeting +with his father. While she spoke his eyes traveled curiously to the +high-backed organ and the what-not beyond. Richard Gregory had described +the Lang home as a model of neatness and old-fashioned charm. His son +went further. The room possessed a personality. It was not only livable +but lovable as well. The very atmosphere breathed a benediction.</p> + +<p>"Do you play checkers?"</p> + +<p>Miss Lang's voice recalled Gregory to himself. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he began.</p> + +<p>"No you're not," put in Dickie quietly. "You're<!-- Page 163 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> lucky. Don't ever +learn. Aunt Mary never gave your father a chance to say a word. She had +her board out when she heard him in the hall."</p> + +<p>A knock on the front door interrupted Miss Lang's request for her +checker-board and Dickie hurried out.</p> + +<p>"I can teach you in no time," Aunt Mary was saying. But Gregory was +listening to the sound of a man's voice in the hallway. Then came the +girl's laugh.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't angry at all, Jack. Just cranky. But I'm glad you came up just +the same and thanks for the candy."</p> + +<p>She reentered the room followed by McCoy. McCoy stopped with surprise as +he caught sight of Gregory. Nodding casually, he went over to greet Miss +Lang.</p> + +<p>Aunt Mary welcomed McCoy warmly. Then she addressed her niece.</p> + +<p>"Bring us the board, Josephine. Kenneth can watch and I'll explain the +game as we go along."</p> + +<p>McCoy sank into a chair and passed a hand wearily over his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I have a headache," he shouted. "Don't think I'd better play to-night."</p> + +<p>"You've been working too hard," Aunt Mary retorted. "Nothing like a good +game of checkers for relaxation."</p> + +<p>Dickie was already on her way for the board. As she passed Gregory he +saw that her eyes were sparkling.<!-- Page 164 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's right, Jack," she called back. "Leave it to Aunt Mary to +prescribe for your headache. She knows."</p> + +<p>As McCoy drew up to the board Gregory noticed that he was attired in +close-fitting clothes of ultra-fashionable cut. As he saw McCoy look him +over he became ill at ease and moved his chair farther from the light. +Dickie sensed his embarrassment and noting that neither man appeared to +enjoy himself, strove to make her guests feel more at home. Both men she +knew were vitally interested in the operation of the cannery. And +Gregory, at her request, had brought up the balance-sheet. A discussion +of business affairs would relieve the situation and at the same time +rescue McCoy from Aunt Mary's checker-board. The rapid termination of +the first game gave her a chance to interrupt.</p> + +<p>"I asked Mr. Gregory to bring up a business statement to-night, Aunt +Mary; you'd like to see it, wouldn't you? I know Jack would."</p> + +<p>Miss Lang nodded and promptly laid aside the board.</p> + +<p>"Very much," she answered. "I've always been interested in that business +and I understand this young man is making it pay."</p> + +<p>McCoy heaved a sigh of relief to learn it was merely business which had +brought Gregory to see Dickie Lang.</p> + +<p>At the girl's reference to the object of his errand, Gregory unbuttoned +his coat and delved into his pocket<!-- Page 165 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> for the paper. He must have put it +in his vest. Again his fingers failed to find the missing document. He +became conscious of a prickly sensation creeping slowly over his flesh. +Where had he left that darned paper anyway? Suddenly he remembered. In +his mortification over his attire he had left the statement lying on his +dresser. He looked up to meet all eyes fixed expectantly upon him. Then +he leaned back in his chair and tried to smile.</p> + +<p>"I guess the joke's on me," he said. "I came away in such a hurry I +forgot it."</p> + +<p>Dickie laughed at his discomfiture until the tears shone in her eyes, +while McCoy regarded his employer with suspicion. Aunt Mary finished +polishing her spectacles and settled back to listen.</p> + +<p>"I'm all ready to hear it," she announced. "Perhaps you had better come +nearer so you will not have to speak so loud."</p> + +<p>Dickie came to Gregory's rescue and explained the situation to her aunt. +Then she added in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"You must have been stung by another of those ideas of yours."</p> + +<p>During the remainder of his visit Kenneth Gregory was content to remain +in the background. McCoy made a few efforts at conversation as he noted +Aunt Mary's eyes roving longingly in the direction of the checker-board. +Then Miss Lang, much to every one's relief, began to monopolize the +conversation. Beckoning Gregory closer, she said:<!-- Page 166 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I want to give you just one bit of advice though I don't suppose you'll +heed it coming from an old lady like me."</p> + +<p>As Gregory encouraged her to go on, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Stay away from Diablo Island." Seeing that she had aroused his +interest, she went on: "You're going to ask me why, and I'll have to +answer that I don't know except that it is a dangerous place and has +been the cause of a number of strange accidents during the past few +years. I used to warn my brother to stay away from there. He only +laughed at my fears—at first. When he lost the <i>Kingfisher</i> at El +Diablo he called it bad luck. Any boat was liable to be run down, he +said. Then came the wreck of the <i>Crane</i> off the south coast of the +island and not a body ever recovered."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mary thinks there's ghosts and everything else at Diablo," Dickie +whispered. "If you give her any encouragement, she's as bad as my +fishermen."</p> + +<p>Gregory noticed that although the girl's words were intended to ridicule +the idea, the expression of her face showed that her aunt's words were +not regarded by her in the light of idle gossip.</p> + +<p>"For a time after that," Miss Lang continued, "my brother stayed away +from Diablo. When fish were scarce he went back. He hadn't had his nets +out a week before he lost them all. No one ever knew what became of +them. Will was getting worried though he tried not to show it. He was +about ready<!-- Page 167 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> to give it up when your father bought the cannery and came +to Legonia. For a while after that fishing was good everywhere. As long +as they stayed away from that accursed island things went well. But they +were not satisfied. So they sent the <i>Eagle</i> over there. The last they +heard of her she was anchored in Northwest Harbor."</p> + +<p>The room grew very still as the old lady continued:</p> + +<p>"That worried them. Because they could not find out what became of her. +The fishermen began to refuse to go there and I thanked God it was all +over. Then one night Will and your father went out to Diablo in the +<i>Gull</i>. Why they went, heaven only will ever know."</p> + +<p>She rose slowly and walked to the door.</p> + +<p>"She won't sleep a wink to-night," exclaimed Dickie as the door closed +on her aunt. "I must look after her."</p> + +<p>When the girl returned a few minutes later she found Gregory and McCoy +discussing business. Gregory remained on his feet at her entrance.</p> + +<p>"I must be going," he said. "I have a lot of work to do."</p> + +<p>Bidding McCoy good night, he followed Dickie to the hall.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you came up even if you did forget the balance-sheet. Come up +again any time you're not too busy."</p> + +<p>With the girl's words in his ears, Gregory walked into the moonlight. +The evening had not been a com<!-- Page 168 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>plete failure after all. As he turned his +steps in the direction of the town his mind was wholly engrossed with +the events of the past two hours. How Aunt Mary did hate Diablo. Had the +girl noticed how badly his clothes fit him in comparison with McCoy's? +Why had Jack appeared so grouchy?</p> + +<p>He stopped short in his descent of the hill road as he saw a man walking +unsteadily toward him. Moving to one side he watched the drunken +fisherman stumble on, heard the low mumbling of his voice. Then the +moonlight fell full upon the man's face.</p> + +<p>It was Boris, the crazy Russian.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 169 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE BAITED PAWN</h3> + + +<p>Of all the many saloons that made up Legonia's water-front the "Red +Paint" was the favorite resort among the alien fishermen. The universal +popularity of the establishment was due mainly to three causes. The boss +owned the place and paid off there between moons. Credit was freely +given to all fishermen in good standing, and thirdly, Mascola's emporium +enjoyed full police protection.</p> + +<p>During the evening when Gregory made his first call at the Lang hill the +tide of revelry at the "Red Paint" was at the flood. It was pay-day and +the boss was in high good humor. Either occurrence was always good for a +number of rounds of free drinks. But when Mascola was happy on pay-day, +the liberality of the "Red Paint" was indeed prodigal.</p> + +<p>And Mascola was happy. Within the frosted glass enclosure that marked +off his saloon-office from the bar, the Italian sat at his desk in a +genial glow of good humor. The glow was purely physical, superinduced by +the rapidly disappearing contents of the slim-nosed bottle which stood +at his elbow. The good humor was due to other causes.<!-- Page 170 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>As he re-filled his glass, Mascola smiled. It hadn't been such a bad day +at that. He'd showed somebody something about albacore fishing. And he'd +show them a lot more before he got through. Things were coming his way +too from other sources. He took out his leather wallet and ran over a +number of bills of high denomination. Then he took another drink and +smiled at the ceiling. It had been such easy money. Much easier than +fishing.</p> + +<p>A knock sounded at the street-door. Mascola shoved the wallet again into +his pocket and hastily removed his bottle of Amontillado.</p> + +<p>"Come in," he called.</p> + +<p>Boris entered, clumsily filling the doorway with his great bulk and +bringing with him a strong odor of garlic and Jap <i>sake</i>. For a moment +he stood on the threshold, blinking stupidly. Then he pulled the door +closed with a bang.</p> + +<p>Mascola's eyes grew hard as he dropped his hand into a drawer of his +desk which stood open.</p> + +<p>"Stay where you are," he commanded. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Job," muttered the Russian thickly.</p> + +<p>Mascola shook his head and an annoyed frown darkened his brow. "Go +home," he said. "You're drunk. You're no good. I fired you. Don't want +to talk."</p> + +<p>Boris made no move to comply with his order. His small eyes roved +restlessly about the room for a moment, then came to rest on the +Italian.<!-- Page 171 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Boys making fool with me all time," he said. "Say I can no lick woman. +I get damn mad. You give me job. I show you."</p> + +<p>Mascola shook his head. Leaning closer to the swaying figure, he said in +a low voice: "Show me first."</p> + +<p>Boris's face became purple with rage as the import of Mascola's answer +filtered into his thick skull. He clenched his huge hands and raised +them above his head, mumbling all the while in his own tongue. Then his +arms fell to his sides and his pig-like eyes gleamed with belated +comprehension. Licking his dry lips, he said: "Give me drink. I show you +to-night."</p> + +<p>The Italian <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'slippel'">slipped</ins> a hand into his pocket and tossed him a two-dollar +bill. Stumbling to the door the Russian found Mascola close by his side.</p> + +<p>"Wait," he commanded. "Sit down. There."</p> + +<p>He pointed to a chair screened from the street entrance by a large steel +safe. When Boris had deposited his great bulk therein, Mascola walked to +the door and looked up and down the street. Then he returned and grasped +the Russian by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Go," he said. As Boris reached the door he shoved him out with the +whisper:</p> + +<p>"Don't forget. You've got to show me."</p> + +<p>Joe Blagg was among the last of Mascola's men to come for his money. And +though he said nothing when he signed the pay-roll, Blagg nursed a +grouch against his employer. Mascola had cursed him out<!-- Page 172 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> that morning +and no livin' dago could do that. He'd get square, or his name wasn't +Joe Blagg.</p> + +<p>The bartender shoved a black bottle toward him as he pocketed his money. +"Boss's treat," he announced.</p> + +<p>Blagg's animosity thawed sufficiently to permit him to accept the +proffered drink, then flared again under the influence of the fiery +liquor. He called for another and gulped it down. Then Mascola's whisky +began to talk. He'd make the dago eat his words. That's what he'd do. +Two more drinks and he decided to have it out with Mascola at once.</p> + +<p>"Where's boss?" he inquired thickly.</p> + +<p>The bartender jerked his shorn head in the direction of the frosted +glass enclosure.</p> + +<p>Blagg drew back, his ardor somewhat chilled to find his quarry so near. +Perhaps it was better to figure out just what he was going to say before +he tackled the boss. Deciding that he could plan better in the open air, +he walked unsteadily to the swinging doors and staggered across the +street. There he leaned against the bulkhead and looked back at the Red +Paint.</p> + +<p>A flash of light illumined the side-walk in front of the saloon office +and Blagg saw Mascola's figure silhouetted in the open doorway. He was +looking up and down the street. As the fisherman drew back into the +shadow the Italian disappeared to return a moment later shoving a burly +figure before him.</p> + +<p>Blagg became even more discreet as he recognized Mascola's guest. Boris +was a bigger man by far than himself. And yet Mascola was putting him +out with<!-- Page 173 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> + no trouble at all. The observation had a sobering effect upon +the fisherman. His militant air changed quickly to one of craft. He'd +quit the boss and pull a lot of the boys along with him. He could hit +the dago better that way. They were all pretty sore at being bossed +around by a "<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'furinor'">furrinor</ins>" anyway. And work was plenty up around Frisco. He'd +round up a bunch of the boys right away.</p> + +<p>With that idea in view he walked along the water-front and turned again +to the row of saloons. Then he noticed that Boris was lurching along +ahead of him. He saw the Russian push open the door of the "Buffalo" and +heard the derisive roar from within which greeted his entrance. Scenting +amusement at Boris's expense, Blagg followed. When he elbowed his way +through the press of fishermen who thronged the "Buffalo" bar, he saw +the Russian surrounded by a jeering crowd.</p> + +<p>"Got a job yet, Boris?" some one called.</p> + +<p>"He's workin' for the Lang girl now," put in another.</p> + +<p>Boris snarled and, flinging his tormentors away from him, made his way +to the bar, jabbering excitedly in Russian to Pete Ankovitch.</p> + +<p>Blagg moved nearer.</p> + +<p>"What's he sayin', Pete?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Ankovitch laughed.</p> + +<p>"He say everybody go to hell," he interpreted. "He say he show Mascola +he ain't 'fraid of no woman."</p> + +<p>Blagg strove to focus his mind on the Russian's<!-- Page 174 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> words. Boris was sore +as a boiled oil, crazy as a coot. And he had it in for the Lang girl for +causing him to get the can. The Russian's reference to Mascola caused +the furrows in Blagg's brow to deepen. Both of them were sore at the +girl. Were they framing up? If they were he'd block the boss's game. +He'd wise her. She'd always shot straight enough with him anyway, and he +was a fool to have ever quit her. If Mascola was baiting the Russian to +pull off some dirty work he'd——</p> + +<p>Blagg paused in his tentative plans for outwitting Mascola as his eye +fell on Neilson. There was the man he wanted to see. Swan could swing +the Swedes into quitting the dago. All thought of Boris vanished from +Blagg's mind as he drew Neilson aside and conferred confidentially with +the big Swede in a drunken whisper. When he looked about for the Russian +some time later, Boris was gone.</p> + +<p>Blagg drained the contents of his last glass with a wry face, and walked +unsteadily to the door. Colliding with a man on the sidewalk, he +regained his poise by leaning heavily against a sandwich sign-board.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Blagg. Seen any of my men inside?"</p> + +<p>Blagg shoved back his cap and eyed the speaker with drunken suspicion. +When he recognized the cannery owner, a furtive light crept into his +eyes and he beckoned Gregory closer. Gregory noted the mysterious mien +and promptly credited it to the man's state of intoxication. He was on +the point of hurrying on when Blagg's words stayed him.<!-- Page 175 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell Lang girl t' look out for 'self."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Gregory grasped him by the arm and whirled him about.</p> + +<p>"Was in s'loon," Blagg muttered, striving to focus his bleary eyes upon +his auditor. "Damn Russian there, too. Boys's kiddin' him an' Boris tol' +'em he was't 'fraid no woman. Said he'd show 'em."</p> + +<p>"Does he live over there?" Gregory asked quickly, pointing toward the +Lang hill.</p> + +<p>Blagg shook his head and nodded in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>"Down there," he corrected. "Think he——"</p> + +<p>But Gregory did not wait to hear what Blagg thought.</p> + +<p>Blagg looked after him stupidly. He had had no time to speak of his +hatred or suspicion of Mascola. But he'd show the dago yet.</p> + +<p>A crowd of fishermen lumbered along the sidewalk toward him, talking +excitedly. Leaning against the sign-board, Blagg was able to gather from +their conversation that a fight had just occurred at the Red Paint. Some +one had tried to get square with the boss and Mascola had knifed him.</p> + +<p>Cold sweat broke out on Joe Blagg's forehead. To his whirling brain came +other instances he had heard of how Mascola always got square with those +who opposed him. Blagg's whiskyfied courage began to ooze. Perhaps he +had gone too far. Suppose Neilson, with a desire to get in strong with +the boss,<!-- Page 176 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> should tell Mascola that he, Joe Blagg, was trying to start a +strike among the alien fishermen? And a Swede liked to talk too. Why not +get out of town for a while till the thing blew over? He wasn't afraid +of the dago and his whole crowd. But what was the use of starting a row? +Besides he was ready to move anyway. He reflected suddenly that the +midnight train for Frisco stopped at Legonia on signal. That would give +him time to throw his stuff together. He had already drawn his money. +Why not hit the grit?</p> + + + +<p class="break">As Jack McCoy took his way down the hillside he was acutely conscious of +the fact that the evening had been a distinct disappointment. Why was +Gregory there anyway? That talk about his forgetting his papers sounded +mighty thin. How many times had the boss been there before? What was the +matter with Dick to-night? She acted kind of funny, didn't seem to care +whether he stayed any longer or not.</p> + +<p>McCoy stopped by the roadside as he caught sight of a man running +hastily along one of the streets leading from the town. Whoever the +fellow was he was sure in a hurry the way he was cutting 'cross lots. As +the runner came under the rays of the corner arc-light, McCoy started +and peered intently after the departing figure.</p> + +<p>It sure looked like Gregory. And he was angling in the direction of the +Lang hill. The idea clung tenaciously. When he reached his rooming-house +it became an obsession. He decided to find out if the<!-- Page 177 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> runner could have +been his employer. Calling up the cannery it was some time before a +sleepy voice answered his summons.</p> + +<p>"Boss ain't here. Went out at eight and ain't been back since. Want to +leave message?"</p> + +<p>McCoy snapped up the receiver and walked slowly into his room. So it was +Gregory. Where had he been going at this time of night? And on the run, +too. The forgetting of the paper was only a frame-up. Dick had acted +funny. Now he knew it was because she wanted to get rid of him.</p> + +<p>He sat on the bed, making no effort to remove his clothes. You're a poor +fish, something whispered. Why don't you go and find out if they're +double-crossing you? McCoy tried not to listen. For a long time he +stared moodily at the floor. Then he rose and threw off his coat. +Hastily replaced it and hurried to the door. He was ashamed of his +suspicions. But he simply had to find out.</p> + + + +<p class="break">There was a light still burning in the Lang cottage when Gregory turned +into the walk. Perhaps he was foolish to have returned. Still it would +do no harm to warn the girl.</p> + +<p>As he went up the steps he saw Miss Lang walking up and down the little +hall. Tapping loudly, he summoned her to the door.</p> + +<p>"Could I speak to Miss Dickie a moment?" he shouted. "It is something +important."</p> + +<p>Aunt Mary came out on the porch.<!-- Page 178 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you wait a moment," she said, "my niece will be back. She left some +time ago to take some medicine over to one of our neighbor's sick +babies."</p> + +<p>Gregory's fears multiplied.</p> + +<p>"Where did she go?"</p> + +<p>"To the Swanson place just over the hill. It's the first place you'll +come to before you reach the Russian Valley."</p> + +<p>"I'll go meet her."</p> + +<p>He turned quickly and hurried down the path.</p> + +<p>Reaching the brow of the hill, he saw the lights of the Swanson cottage +and slowed down to a walk. His fears for the girl's safety were +apparently groundless. The valley lay before him, steeped in moonlight. +No sound disturbed the stillness save the far-off cry of the screaming +gulls and the monotonous murmur of the distant sea. Walking slowly down +the road, grown high on both sides with sage and cactus, he caught a +glimpse of a bulky figure in the path ahead.</p> + +<p>Looking again to the cottage only a few hundred yards down the road, +Gregory saw the light flash out from an open door. For a moment it shone +brightly, then disappeared.</p> + +<p>As the man in the roadway heard the sound of footsteps behind him, he +stepped quickly to the brush and faced about. Keeping well in the center +of the path, Gregory went steadily on with his eyes fixed upon the clump +of sage which sheltered the disappearing figure. It was Boris, without a +doubt. No other<!-- Page 179 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> man about Legonia possessed the giant proportions of +the big Russian.</p> + +<p>Boris glared sullenly from the brush as he saw the advancing figure +hesitate and turn toward him. Then he recognized the young cannery +owner. What chance would he have to show Mascola now? The intruder +threatened the defeat of his cherished plans. The girl he sought was +coming up the hill. A few minutes more and——</p> + +<p>"What do you want, Boris?"</p> + +<p>The Russian's answer to Gregory's question came in a guttural snarl as +he staggered from the sage and flung himself upon the speaker.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 180 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE FANGS OF MASCOLA</h3> + + +<p>Gregory leaped nimbly beyond reach of the Russian's waving arms and +placed his back to the moonlight. Meeting the fisherman's blind rush +with a quick blow to his heavy jaw, he sidestepped and struck again. +Boris blocked the fist with a sweep of his long arm and clinched. For an +instant the bodies of the two men rocked in the gripping power of the +embrace. Then they fell to the roadway.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Dickie Lang stopped suddenly as she saw the struggling figures in the +path. A fight between two drunken fishermen was the commonest thing in +Legonia. She'd better not get mixed up in it. They were not her men. She +knew that. None of her fisherman lived up here but Swanson, and the +Swede she knew was at home. Making a wide detour through the brush which +carried her beyond sight of the scuffle, she hurried on.</p> + + + +<p class="break">"Where's Dick, Aunt Mary?"</p> + +<p>There was a note in Jack McCoy's voice which made Miss Lang regard him +sharply before replying:<!-- Page 181 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She's gone down to Swanson's, John. One of the babies was sick."</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Gregory been back since I left? I'm looking for him."</p> + +<p>McCoy was ashamed of the question. Still it was better to find out from +Aunt Mary than to try to explain to her niece.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He left only a few minutes ago. He inquired for Josephine and when +I told him where she had gone, he said he would go to meet her."</p> + +<p>Shaking his head weakly at Aunt Mary's question if anything was wrong, +McCoy turned slowly and walked down the path. Everything was wrong. Dick +had ditched him for Gregory. They'd framed it to get him out of the way. +Well, it was a cinch he wouldn't butt in. His reflections were cut short +by the sight of a white figure walking toward him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Jack. What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>McCoy stared. Dickie Lang was alone.</p> + +<p>"I'm looking for Mr. Gregory," he faltered.</p> + +<p>"Haven't seen him since he left the house."</p> + +<p>The girl was by his side, looking anxiously into his face.</p> + +<p>"Anything wrong, Jack?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>McCoy shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "I just wanted to talk to him about changing the pack in +the morning. Your aunt told me he came back and went to meet you."</p> + +<p>Dickie's surprise entered into her voice as she said:<!-- Page 182 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's funny. I walked all the way from Swanson's and I didn't meet +him."</p> + +<p>As she ceased speaking came a sharp <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'rememberance'">remembrance</ins> of the two figures +battling in the roadway. Could one of them have been Kenneth Gregory? +She expressed her fears to McCoy.</p> + +<p>McCoy started at once for the hill.</p> + +<p>"Go back to the house, Dick," he called back. "I'll go down there and +see what's the trouble."</p> + +<p>Dickie followed after him.</p> + +<p>"I'm going too," she said. "I should have gone back and told Swanson +or——"</p> + +<p>Her words were interrupted by the sharp report of a gun from over the +hill.</p> + +<p>McCoy broke into a run.</p> + +<p>"Go back," he cried. "Hurry. Get your gun. I'm going on."</p> + + + +<p class="break">Boris looked stupidly into the white face of Kenneth Gregory as he knelt +over him. Then he staggered to his feet and looked up and down the road. +As the possible consequences of his act began to filter through his +consciousness, he jumped to cover in the brush and ran down the ravine +in the direction of Russian valley.</p> + +<p>When Dickie Lang reached the spot where she had seen the men fighting in +the roadway, she found Jack McCoy bending over the sprawling figure of +Kenneth Gregory.</p> + +<p>"Is he dead?"<!-- Page 183 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>McCoy shook his head.</p> + +<p>"The bullet went into his side," he said. "He's losing a lot of blood +but he's still conscious. Run down to Swanson's and phone for the +doctor. Then have Bill come and help me move him."</p> + +<p>While McCoy worked to staunch the flow of blood, the girl ran to carry +out his orders. Remorse gripped her heart as she raced down the hill. +She should have gone to Gregory's aid. She might have done something. At +least she could have discovered the identity of his assailant. If she +had gone at once for Swanson, he might have arrived in time to prevent +the shot.</p> + +<p>When she reached the house she roused the Swede and rushed to the +telephone, giving hasty instructions to the fisherman to take a couple +of oars and a blanket and go at once to McCoy's assistance. After an +interminable period of waiting she was able to get in communication with +Doctor Kent. Instructing the physician to come at once to the Lang +cottage, she hurried away. On her way up the hill she met McCoy and +Swanson carrying Gregory on the improvised stretcher.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" she cried.</p> + +<p>The Swede started to explain. His house was closest and they were quite +welcome to bring the injured man there.</p> + +<p>The girl objected with decisive emphasis.</p> + +<p>"I've already told the doctor to come to our house. Aunt Mary is the +best nurse in the country. Besides, Bill, you have your hands full +to-night with Hulda."<!-- Page 184 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="break">Mascola paused on the threshold of his office at the Red Paint with his +key grating in the lock. Then he placed his back to the brick wall and +drew his knife as he saw a bulky figure coming toward him.</p> + +<p>"Stop where you are," he exclaimed sharply. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>Boris lunged forward and Mascola caught him roughly by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Get out, damn you," he cried. "I told you to beat it."</p> + +<p>"Tried to get girl," Boris panted. "Gregory man there too. I kill him."</p> + +<p>Mascola looked hastily about. When Boris had ceased mumbling, the +Italian ordered after a moment's consideration: "Shut up. Go down to my +dock the back way. Get on the <i>Lura</i>. Wait there for me."</p> + +<p>As the Russian slouched down the street, Mascola reopened his door and +went into his office. Then he got Ankovitch on the phone.</p> + +<p>"Come down to the boat right away," he ordered. "I want you to get right +out."</p> + + + +<p class="break">Day was breaking when McCoy stood with Dickie Lang on the steps of the +Lang cottage. The bullet had been found and removed. Kenneth Gregory was +resting as well as could be expected. There was danger only through +blood-poisoning. The patient was young and strong and should recover. +The doctor from Centerville had just left after agreeing with the local +physician's diagnosis.<!-- Page 185 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And now," McCoy was saying, "as there is nothing more I can do here +I'll go back to town. It will sure be up to me from now on."</p> + +<p>Dickie put a hand on his arm and looked earnestly into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"It will be up to both of us, Jack. We've simply got to keep things +going for him. I might have saved him. Now it's up to me to make good."</p> + +<p>As McCoy walked homeward through the brightening light, he strove to +consider the events of the night in their proper sequence, but his brain +rioted in a jumble of confused impressions. He owed Kenneth Gregory an +apology. Now that the boss was down and out it was up to every one to do +their level-darnedest. He'd see that they did, too. He was sorry it had +all happened. Sorry that he had doubted. Sorry too for other things +which he would not admit, even to himself. And down in the bottom of his +heart, loyal though it was, Jack McCoy was sorry that Kenneth Gregory +had not been taken to Swanson's.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 186 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE COST OF DEFEAT</h3> + + +<p>There are periods in every one's life when the standard measurements of +time are hopelessly inadequate fittingly to express its passing. Minutes +may creep, or they may fly. An hour stretches into a day or a day +contracts into an hour directly at the will of circumstance.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory found this to be true during his period of convalescence +at the Lang cottage. As the days went by he found himself devising a +simpler method for keeping track of time. There were hours when Dickie +Lang was with him, and hours when she was not.</p> + +<p>His moments with the girl were always too short. And he was surprised to +find that they never appeared to lengthen. His interest in Dickie, he +told himself, was purely impersonal. She told him of just the things he +desired to hear most about. Kept him in touch with his world. Brought +him news each day from the cannery; the business for which he hungered +and fretted during each minute of his idle hours.</p> + +<p>It was Dickie Lang who had told him of the search which had been made +for Boris, a search which had<!-- Page 187 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> ended in failure. The Russian had fled, +leaving no trace of his whereabouts. Blagg also was missing, so nothing +further could be learned from that source. Gossip had been rife in the +fishing village over the sudden disappearance of the two men. Then the +matter was apparently forgotten, giving place to the excitement caused +by the installation of the first radio-set on one of the cannery fishing +fleet.</p> + +<p>Gregory, who had given orders for a trial equipment before the accident, +was elated to learn from the girl that the innovation was proving a +distinct success. Other sets were installed and the practicability of +the new idea was demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt. To quote the +girl, all she had to do was to "spot the fish, click out the signal and +the cannery boats would be round her like a flock of gulls."</p> + +<p>Mascola, she told Gregory, had regarded the new departure, at the +outset, as something of a joke. Rock too had ridiculed the idea openly. +But when the cannery fleet got fish while the Italian's boats came in +but scantily-laden, Mascola's laugh changed to a scowl and Rock's flabby +forehead was creased with worried lines.</p> + +<p>With the aid of the radio the "patchy" schools along the coast had been +fished to good advantage while Mascola's fleet were forced to cruise as +far as Diablo and San Anselmo in order to obtain fish enough to supply +the rival cannery.</p> + +<p>From McCoy's occasional visits Gregory had learned that the plant was +running to its full capacity.<!-- Page 188 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> Upon the subject, however, of sales and +orders, the house-manager was extremely reticent.</p> + +<p>So it was that Gregory passed the long days of his confinement, +rejoicing with Dickie Lang over the growing success of the outside end +and worrying over McCoy's evasion when he was questioned concerning the +disposition of the finished product. And all the while longing for the +time to come when he would be permitted to get back into the harness.</p> + +<p>"There's no use letting you go with instructions to take it easy," +Doctor Kent had said. "I know your kind. When I turn you out I want you +to be going strong."</p> + +<p>In that opinion, Aunt Mary concurred. But the time came at last when +Gregory was permitted to leave the Lang cottage and return to the +cannery. Fearing a reversal of the verdict rendered in his favor, he set +out at once. At some distance from the cannery he stopped and inhaled +the fish-laden atmosphere with a singing heart. Once, he remembered, the +odor had sickened him. Now it came like a breath from Heaven. It stirred +his soul, quickened his pulse. He sucked in the tinctured air greedily. +It was life itself. A life that was full and free, teeming with +opportunity, filled with work and fight.</p> + +<p>"Long on fish, but short on sales."</p> + +<p>Gregory expressed the state of his business with blunt accuracy as he +stood with McCoy in the crowded warehouse.<!-- Page 189 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>McCoy admitted the truth of the owner's statement.</p> + +<p>"We didn't want to worry you while you were sick," he explained, "but +you can see just where we stand. Something has sure gone wrong with the +selling end. Dick's getting the fish. I'm canning them. But we can't +sell them."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with the Western people?" Gregory asked quickly. "I +thought they were strong for us."</p> + +<p>McCoy shrugged. "So did I," he answered. "But a few days after you got +hurt they quit us cold with no explanation. When we fell down on that +first big order of albacore, Winfield & Camby lost interest and I +haven't been able to get a flutter out of them since. The other dealers +seem to be afraid of us for some reason. They come down and look us +over, but that is all."</p> + +<p>McCoy scowled at the huge stacks of shining tins and shook his head. +"It's got me," he admitted. "We're putting out a first-class article but +we can't unload it. I've got a hunch somebody's plugging against us." +Noting the worried lines which were finding their way to Gregory's face +at his words, he went on hastily:</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to have you come back into such a tangle as this. I did my +best but you see I didn't have a minute to get out and take care of the +sales."</p> + +<p>"Don't say a word, Jack," Gregory interrupted. "You've done more than +your part. Every man of<!-- Page 190 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> you and every woman too," he added quickly. +"I'll never forget it. This part of the game is up to me. I'm feeling +fit now. Keen to get going. I want to look things over for a few minutes +in the office. Then I'll talk with you again and let you know what I'm +going to do first."</p> + +<p>A careful examination of his finances convinced Gregory of the +seriousness of the situation. There was only one thing to be done. He +must visit the jobbers at once.</p> + +<p>He paused abruptly in his calculations at the staccato bark of a +high-powered motor. Mascola, he thought, as he rose and walked to the +window. What he saw through the glass caused him to stand staring. +Speeding through the dancing waters of the sunlit bay came a +speed-launch, heading in the direction of the cannery wharf. But it was +not the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>. His eyes followed the course of the oncoming +stranger and a worried frown leaped to his brow. It couldn't be that Joe +Barrows had completed the <i>Richard</i> already. He glanced at the calendar +and his frown deepened. In all probability it was his boat. And if so, +where was he going to get the money to pay for it?</p> + +<p>He walked to the wharf and with narrowing eyes watched the stranger's +approach. Something wrong somewhere, he reasoned. He had ordered a +speed-boat. One that would beat Mascola's. A craft with real lines and +bird-like grace like the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>. The oncoming launch, he +observed bitterly, was the direct antithesis of his expectations. Surely +there could be<!-- Page 191 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> no speed in that squatty packet with her sagging bow and +queer looking box-affair for a stern.</p> + +<p>The strange craft drew abreast of the wharf and whirled about in a +wave-washed circle. The motor hummed with contentment and the hull sank +sullenly into the water as the man at the wheel guided the boat in the +direction of the float. Then Gregory caught sight of the letters painted +on the side:</p> + +<p class="center">RICHARD</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Gregory?"</p> + +<p>The man in the boat looked up questioningly.</p> + +<p>Gregory walked slowly to the float.</p> + +<p>"I'm Mr. Gregory," he answered lifelessly. "I was almost wishing I +wasn't if that's the launch I ordered."</p> + +<p>The driver of the craft rested his arms on the big steering wheel and +laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"Don't like her, eh?" he grinned.</p> + +<p>"Can't say that I do," Gregory answered. "It looks to me like Mr. +Barrows misunderstood my orders."</p> + +<p>The stranger's face grew instantly serious.</p> + +<p>"You wanted a sea-going craft which could stand rough water and beat the +<i>Fuor d'Italia</i> we built for Mascola," he said slowly. "And you left the +lines and everything else entirely up to us. Is that right?"</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded. Then a gleam of hope lighted his eye.<!-- Page 192 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You think this one will fill the bill?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"If she doesn't, it's up to us," the man answered. Noting the skeptical +look in Gregory's face, he went on: "Don't make the mistake of trying to +judge a boat from the dock, Mr. Gregory. 'You can't tell by the looks of +a frog how far he can jump,' or how fast either. Barrows has been at the +game long enough to quit guessing. When he tackles a proposition like +yours, he wants your money, not your boat. I came down this morning to +take you out for a trial. Then if there's anything you want changed we +can fix it up before we turn her over to you to beat Mascola. If you can +spare the time I'll take you back with me to Port Angeles. That will +give you a good chance to see her perform in rough water as it's blowing +up nasty off the breakwater."</p> + +<p>Gregory's face cleared. The suggestion had two-fold value. By acting +upon it at once he could combine business with pleasure. Visit the +jobbers in the city and at the same time test out the launch.</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready in half an hour," he answered.</p> + +<p>The boatman nodded. "I'll run down-town," he said, "and get a bite to +eat. Don't forget to bring a rain-coat with you. You're liable to get +wet."</p> + +<p>Gregory promised and hurried away. In the cannery he found McCoy and +outlined his plans.</p> + +<p>McCoy objected. "Better take it easy for a day or two," he counseled. +"No use trying to hit the ball too hard at the start."<!-- Page 193 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory smiled brightly. "I'm feeling like a king, Mac," he said. "I'll +find out what the trouble is with the jobbers and be back sometime +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Seeing that his advice was futile, McCoy left to put up a few samples +while his employer hurried into the office. Gregory turned at once to +his desk. As he prepared the quotations for submission to the jobbers, a +cheery voice interrupted him in his work.</p> + +<p>"Welcome home."</p> + +<p>In the doorway stood Dickie Lang.</p> + +<p>He jumped hastily to his feet and put out his hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you only knew how good it was to be back," he began. Then, as he +noticed the girl's rapid change of expression at his words, he hastened +to amend: "I don't mean I was glad to leave your house. I wasn't. It's +the only home I've known for a long time. I was only trying to say how +glad I am to be able to get back to work."</p> + +<p>Dickie smiled at his enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"I know," she said. "It's wonderful you were able to get back so soon."</p> + +<p>Soon the talk turned to business and Gregory explained his plans for +visiting Port Angeles. Like McCoy, Dickie voiced her objections, but +with more vehemence. Seeing at last, however, that the young man could +not be talked out of it, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Never let on to Aunt Mary that I knew you were going or she never would +forgive me. She's kind of adopted you and she told me to look out for +you."<!-- Page 194 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>Soon they were discussing the new speed-boat and its practicability at +the present time should it be proved a success.</p> + +<p>"Mascola ran across our trammels this morning with a dragnet," the girl +explained. "If you had had that boat, you might have stopped them. He's +getting pretty ugly lately and last night his men tried to crowd ours +off the beach with their seine. If they try it again, there'll be +trouble."</p> + +<p>Remembering Gregory's object in going to the city, Dickie suggested:</p> + +<p>"While you're in Port Angeles you might look in at the fresh fish +markets and find out what's the matter with them, too. They are bad +enough at best, but they've been getting worse for a long time. Now they +are hardly yielding us enough to pay to ship."</p> + +<p>Gregory promised and looking at his watch, saw he would have to leave at +once.</p> + +<p>"I wish you could go up there with me," he exclaimed. "Why couldn't you? +I'll wait."</p> + +<p>A smile flashed to the girl's lips, then disappeared on the instant. "It +wouldn't be proper," she said gravely. "Port Angeles is a city and +people look at things differently in cities. Aunt Mary would have +nervous prostration if I even suggested it."</p> + +<p>McCoy walked with Dickie Lang to the dock to bid Gregory <i>bon voyage</i> +and wish him luck on his mission. Then they caught sight of the launch +nearing the float and their disappointment registered in their faces. +Gregory drew the girl aside.<!-- Page 195 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have the same idea about her that I had," he said. "But don't +worry. Barrows' man, I guess, knows what he's talking about and if she +doesn't make good I don't take her." Lowering his voice so that only +Dickie could hear, he met her eyes. "You'll notice," he said, "that I +named her Richard. But as boats are always called 'she,' you will +understand that means 'Dickie.'"</p> + +<p>Before the girl could recover from her surprise he hurried away and +dropped into the seat beside the driver. As the boatman threw in the +clutch and the launch shot out into the stream, Gregory looked back at +the wharf and noted that Dickie Lang's cheeks were red beneath her tan. +And Jack McCoy, though he said nothing as he walked with the girl along +the dock, wondered what the boss could have said to make Dick blush like +that.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 196 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>ROCK FOLLOWS UP</h3> + + +<p>His first ride in a speed-boat.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory leaned back on the cushions and watched the <i>Richard</i> +drag her heavy hull through the quiet water of Crescent Bay. A feeling +of disgust assailed him. The craft was utterly worthless for his +purposes. She had no pick-up at all and was barely able to maintain her +lead as she lumbered along ahead of one of the fastest of Mascola's +fishing-boats.</p> + +<p>The driver, who called himself Bronson, appeared to be perfectly +satisfied with the vessel's behavior and made no effort to crowd her by +the fishing fleet. At length they reached the outlet and the <i>Richard</i> +settled comfortably into the trough of the swell. Then Bronson turned to +his passenger.</p> + +<p>"Better put on your rain-coat," he suggested. "We'll be bucking the wind +and it picks up the spray and throws it right back at us."</p> + +<p>As he spoke he slipped into his slicker and waited for Gregory to don +his mackintosh.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready when you are," Gregory announced. "Let her go."</p> + +<p>Bronson looked cautiously over his shoulder.<!-- Page 197 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Want to keep an eye out for Mascola," he said. "Don't want him to see +this one in action until we're good and ready. I won't open her up +to-day. Motor's too stiff yet and we're liable to burn out something."</p> + +<p>As he spoke he advanced the throttle and the <i>Richard</i> protested at his +action in a series of spasmodic coughs. Then the hood began to incline +slowly and Gregory felt the hull rising. Perhaps the craft was not dead +after all, but only sleeping. Watching Bronson's fingers on the spark +and throttle, he noticed that the man was advancing them cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Watch out for your hat," Bronson admonished.</p> + +<p>Gregory moved his hand carelessly to his head and caught his hat just in +time. With an angry roar the <i>Richard</i> shot forward, raising her great +hood higher and higher in air while the hull seemed scarcely to be in +the water at all. The wind blew in their faces like a hurricane carrying +with it great clouds of spray which drenched their skins and blinded +Gregory's eyes. Gasping for breath, he noticed that the <i>Richard</i> was +climbing higher. Then Bronson opened the cut-out and the craft sped away +like an angry sea-bird.</p> + +<p>The roar of the exhaust was deafening and Gregory was obliged to shout +to the man beside him before he was able to make himself heard.</p> + +<p>"Is she wide open?" he shrieked.</p> + +<p>Bronson directed his gaze to the position of the throttle device and +Gregory saw with a gasp of astonishment that the throttle was only half +open.</p> + +<p>On they sped, the hull rising from the water and<!-- Page 198 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> hurling itself along +the crest of the waves, tossing them to the sides in great clouds of +whirling, blinding spray. Could it be possible that the propeller was +still in the water?</p> + +<p>Suddenly he felt the <i>Richard</i> collapse and drop sullenly into the sea. +The "machine-guns" had ceased firing and Bronson was regarding him with +a smile. The boatman's face was crusted with salt and his eyes were +twinkling.</p> + +<p>"How about it?" he asked. "Do you think Barrows made any mistake?"</p> + +<p>When Gregory recovered his breath, he observed: "Yes. I wanted a +motor-boat. Not an aeroplane."</p> + +<p>Bronson laughed.</p> + +<p>"Easier to go through the air than the water," he said. "That's why we +made your boat plane. It takes a lot of power to put her on her 'high +horse.' But once she's there, she makes her speed on a minimum of +horse-power. That's why we bank on the <i>Richard</i> to beat the <i>Fuor +d'Italia</i>. Your boat is heavier than Mascola's, closer ribbed, but you +have more power. We're backing this one against his in any weather and +the rougher it is the better it will suit us."</p> + +<p>Gregory glowed with satisfaction. The <i>Richard</i> was all boat. He noticed +that she did not tremble like Mascola's boat, but did her work in a +businesslike way with no ostentation. He admired people like that, and +as Dickie Lang had said and he was beginning to find out, boats were +very much like people.</p> + +<p>For some time Bronson instructed him in the<!-- Page 199 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> proper operation of the +craft. Then he slowed down and threw up the hood, disclosing two +complete multi-cylindered motors.</p> + +<p>"Everything's double," he explained. "You can cut it all in or halve it +as you please. And if anything goes wrong with one motor you're never +hung up. You can always limp in at least."</p> + +<p>As they settled down to a good running speed, the talk gradually drifted +to Mascola.</p> + +<p>"The way things are going now," Bronson observed, "it won't be long +before we're building a new boat for Mascola."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that? Has he seen this one?"</p> + +<p>The boatman shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid of that," he answered. "What I meant was that +Mascola is hammering the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> to pieces with his trips to +Diablo in that rough water."</p> + +<p>"Does Mascola go often to Diablo?" Gregory questioned quickly.</p> + +<p>Bronson shrugged his shoulders non-committally.</p> + +<p>"Can't say," he answered. "Don't know how often he goes out there. But I +do know that he brags that his boat can make it in two hours and a half. +Diablo's a bad place for the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>. She's built too light to +stand the gaff."</p> + +<p>The ride to Port Angeles proved all too short. Bronson was communicative +in the extreme and regaled him of many evidences of Mascola's +prosperity,<!-- Page 200 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> chief among which was the Italian's recent order to a firm +of Norwegian boat-builders at Port Angeles of twenty large fishing +launches of the most improved pattern. These boats, according to +Bronson, were of sufficient tonnage and fuel capacity to enable them to +cruise far down into Mexican waters.</p> + +<p>As they rounded the light-house point and made for the breakwater, the +wind increased, driving a choppy sea before it. Then it was that the +<i>Richard</i> rose to the occasion and demonstrated her natural ability to +cope with a head-on sea.</p> + +<p>Arriving at the municipal docks, Gregory promised to call for the boat +on the day following and hurried away to attend to his business. He had +a real boat all right. Just what he wanted. Now all that remained to be +done was to see the jobbers and get a few orders which he could convert +into cash to pay for the <i>Richard</i>.</p> + +<p>With elastic step he set out for the wholesale district imbued with a +spirit of rosy optimism. The Western was first on his list. The chances +were he would have to go no farther. A short talk with Mr. Eby, the +resident manager, convinced him otherwise.</p> + +<p>"Can't quite see your quotations, Gregory," that gentleman had crisply +maintained. "We have been offered a similar line of goods at fully ten +per cent. less."</p> + +<p>Gregory was greatly surprised. McCoy, he knew, had figured a bed-rock, +cash price and the extreme lowness of the quotation offered the Western +was<!-- Page 201 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> influenced solely by the possibility of a quick sale in straight +car lots. And still the man claimed he could beat it.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind telling me who is offering you stuff at a lower figure?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eby hesitated. It was to his interest to stimulate price cutting. +The fact that the figure quoted was below cost was nothing to him. A +cutthroat war between two rival canneries might result in still lower +quotations which would give him a greater profit.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," he answered. "The figure quoted me was from the Golden +Rule Cannery."</p> + +<p>Gregory felt his face growing hot under the influence of Mr. Eby's +exasperating smile.</p> + +<p>"That figure is below cost and you know it," he said bluntly.</p> + +<p>The manager continued to smile. "Possibly," he affirmed. "From your +view-point. Your cost and theirs may be two different things. Your wage +scale is much higher than theirs for one thing, and your system, in my +mind, does not make in any way for low costs."</p> + +<p>Gregory's anger mounted at the man's tone.</p> + +<p>"What do you know about my business?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eby shrugged.</p> + +<p>"It is our business to keep in close touch with our customers," he +evaded. "I'm just giving you a friendly tip to do away with some of your +more or<!-- Page 202 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> less impractical ideas, and put your business on a plane with +others. You can take it for what it's worth."</p> + +<p>Gregory curbed his anger and started for the door.</p> + +<p>"My idea is working out all right, Mr. Eby," he said in parting. "And +you are going to live to see you've overlooked a good bet."</p> + +<p>Eby laughed. "Go to it, young man," he said. "You'll just have to live +and learn like the rest of us. When you get down to earth again, come in +and see us."</p> + +<p>Somewhat taken back by his interview, Gregory sought the other jobbers. +But at every place of business he was met by evasions and superficial +excuses. Brown & Brown had heard he had gone out of business on account +of ill-health. Possibly they would send a man down when they got +straightened out. The Eureka people were overstocked and, on account of +shortage of cars, were not buying any more for the present. Davis +Incorporated were reorganizing and would do nothing until their plans +were completed. Others intimated they would submit bids if he cared to +sell at auction and some broached the question of taking his output on +consignment. But from no firm did he receive even a conditional order.</p> + +<p>The various interviews had a depressing effect upon Gregory's spirits. +Weakened by his illness, he decided to call it a day and tackle the few +remaining jobbers on the following morning.</p> + +<p>As he sought the hotel he remembered his friend Hawkins, who was working +on the <i>Daily Times</i>. Bill<!-- Page 203 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> had been his lieutenant overseas. He was a +fighting fool and had always been an optimistic chap. In his present +frame of mind, optimism was what he needed. Accordingly he called +Hawkins up and invited him to dinner.</p> + +<p>Some hours later the two men were conversing in Gregory's room. The +great war had been fought over again, mutual acquaintances checked up +and the past thoroughly covered.</p> + +<p>"And so now you are a full-fledged business man," Hawkins was saying, as +the talk turned to the present, surveying Gregory through the haze of +his cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And from the way it looks now I'm about due to be plucked by these +thieving jobbers."</p> + +<p>Hawkins smiled brightly. "Nothing to it," he said. "You've overlooked +two big things, that's all. When we get them straightened out, +everything will be lovely."</p> + +<p>Knowing that Hawkins expected no reply, Gregory waited for him to go on.</p> + +<p>"Your idea is bully. I can't see any reason why it won't work out all +right. But in order to make that possible you've got to stir up the +animals. When you get an idea like that, the thing to be done is to +capitalize it. Why withhold it from the public? They would be +interested. Let them in on it."</p> + +<p>"You mean advertise?" Gregory prompted.</p> + +<p>A slight frown passed over Hawkins' face.</p> + +<p>"Nothing so crude as that," he answered. "I mean publicity."<!-- Page 204 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<p>The newspaperman's face glowed with the importance of his subject and he +continued rapidly:</p> + +<p>"This is an age of publicity. With proper handling you can do most +anything. Even adverse publicity, so-called, has its value. Lots of +shows around here for instance are crowded to the doors every night by a +mere suggestion that they are not all that they should be. The quickest +way to kill a man or an idea in this country is by a 'campaign of +silence.'"</p> + +<p>Seeing that Gregory did not quite get his drift, he went on:</p> + +<p>"Your idea is O.K. It will write up well if it is handled right. +Moreover it is a little out of the ordinary, and all-American. That is a +popular theme at present."</p> + +<p>He paused and puffed the air full of smoke-wreaths. In the smoke he +could see a big story. Why couldn't hard-headed business men realize the +value of the thing he was trying to get at? Why, Kenneth Gregory's idea +would be a winner at the present time. He, Bill Hawkins, could make it +so.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said quietly. "I have to be getting back to the office so I +can't say much now. I put over a big story for the boss yesterday. Shot +myself to pieces over it. So he's giving me a week off on full pay to +take it easy. I want a vacation. I'm a fan for fishing and if you'll +give me an invitation to go back with you and will let me muss around on +your boats, I'll see if I can't drop on to something that will look good +in print. I have an idea I can have a few of<!-- Page 205 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> the jobbers around here +yelping at your heels for fish before I get back. In the morning I'll be +off. Then I'll go down to Winfield & Camby's with you. I know the boss +there and think maybe I can get him to talk 'turkey.'"</p> + +<p>Gregory jumped eagerly at Hawkins' suggestion and immediately extended +the desired invitation. The following morning saw the two men closeted +at an early hour with Mr. Dupont, of Winfield & Camby. And under the +warmth of Hawkins' introduction, the manager's manner thawed perceptibly +toward the young cannery owner.</p> + +<p>Noting the change, Gregory hastened to take advantage of it, and +straightway put up his proposition. When he had concluded, Mr. Dupont +took the floor.</p> + +<p>"In our dealings with our patrons, Mr. Gregory," he began, "we are +nothing, if not frank. Our firm is one of <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'unimpeachible'">unimpeachable</ins> standing which +follows as a natural result from years of square-dealing. We are, +however, extremely conservative. We play, as the saying goes, no +'long-shots.' Once convinced of the dependability of our producers, we +give them every chance and stick by them to the limit."</p> + +<p>The manager removed his nose-glasses and polished them carefully before +going on:</p> + +<p>"I had the pleasure of meeting your father, Mr. Gregory. From my +observation of him, he was everything that one could expect in a man. +But he was constantly hampered with labor troubles of one sort or<!-- Page 206 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +another. Consequently, he was unable to operate his plant in the way we +like to see them operate. When we work up a trade for a particular +brand, we like to be able to supply the demand which we create. If we +were assured that you were able to make good in this respect, we would +have no hesitation in sending a buyer down at once to inspect your +pack."</p> + +<p>"But you do not?"</p> + +<p>Gregory met the man's eyes squarely and the manager looked him over +critically.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered after a moment. "For some reason or other I believe I +do. I think you are working along the right lines. That is," he amended +with a smile, "if you do not carry your ideas of cooperation far enough +to deal direct with the consumer and cut us out of it."</p> + +<p>As Gregory shook his head, Mr. Dupont concluded:</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send Mr. Dalton down at once to look +over your pack. How does that suit you?"</p> + +<p>Gregory's face clearly expressed his satisfaction and a few moments +later he hurried out into the street, leaving Hawkins with the manager.</p> + +<p>"I'll meet you here at any time," Hawkins called after him.</p> + +<p>Promising to meet his friend at four o'clock, Gregory started again on +his rounds. Passing a butcher-shop he stopped and surveyed the array of +fish which were on display in the window. He noted the<!-- Page 207 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> prices and +hastily compared them with the figures he was getting from the markets +in Port Angeles for his fresh fish. There was surely money going to +waste somewhere. Remembering that he had promised Dickie to visit the +wholesalers, he directed his steps to the water-front.</p> + +<p>The dealers he visited were scarcely civil and among them was none who +spoke English without the accent of the foreigner. Their observations in +response to his questions concerning the prices they were offering, were +short and to the point. If he did not like it, he need not ship to them. +They were dumping fish every day as it was. The market was glutted. What +was he going to do about it?</p> + +<p>Gregory wondered himself. Then a plan began to form in his brain, +suggested no doubt by Mr. Dupont's jest about him carrying the +cooperative idea far enough to include the consumer. Why not? Fish were +being retailed at almost prohibitive figures. And the markets claimed +they were dumping them. Somebody was profiteering. Who was it? Certainly +not himself. He was barely able to get enough from the dealers to pay +express.</p> + +<p>The idea grew as he walked along the street. He decided to take up, with +Dickie Lang, the matter of establishing a cooperative service-market and +selling direct to the consumer.</p> + +<p>In mid-afternoon he found himself again among the jobbers. But the few +he had not called upon the day previous, appeared even less interested +in his<!-- Page 208 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> proposition. As he came out of the Pacific's establishment, he +brushed against a heavy-set man with gray hair, who was just going in. +Excusing himself for his awkwardness, he glanced at the stranger's face. +It was Silvanus Rock, of Legonia.</p> + +<p>Gregory passed on. Rock apparently had not recognized him. Yet surely he +was not mistaken in the man's identity. The flabby face with its sagging +folds of pink skin, the snake-like eyes and the long Roman nose could +not have been the inheritance of any other than the magnate of Legonia. +And yet, what business could Rock have with the jobbers? Gregory +wondered as he walked up-town to get a box of candy for Aunt Mary and +Dickie Lang. While he made his purchase, his mind was filled with his +meeting with Rock. In some vague way he began to associate Rock's +presence in the jobbing district with the failure of the dealers to +become interested in his solicitation. When he reached the office of +Winfield & Camby at four o'clock, the matter still filled his mind.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hawkins just stepped out," Mr. Dupont informed him. Then the +manager cleared his throat and beckoned Gregory to his private office. +"It sometimes happens," he began, when the door closed, "that we are +forced to change our plans, owing to an unexpected event. Since you were +here this morning, I feel that what has happened in the interim, +warrants us in our decision. In view of that, I wish to say that for the +present at least, we will not send Mr. Dalton to visit your cannery."<!-- Page 209 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dupont shoved an evening <i>Times</i> across his desk and pointed to a +marked item that appeared therein.</p> + +<p>"That will explain for itself," he said.</p> + +<p>Gregory read:</p> + +<p class="center">RIOT AMONG THE FISHERMEN AT LEGONIA<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="blockquot">This afternoon when the foreign fishermen were peaceably +engaged with their seine, they were brutally attacked by +a number of ex-soldiers and sailors employed by the +Legonia Fish Cannery, and driven from the beach.</div> + +<p>Gregory read no further.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie, Mr. Dupont," he said hotly. "My men do not pick fights. A +few nights ago the alien fishermen endeavored to crowd them off the +beach and they——"</p> + +<p>Mr. Dupont interrupted with a peremptory wave of his hand.</p> + +<p>"You may be right," he said. "But I'm not interested. Whatever the +merits of the case are, the fact remains that you are mixed up in a +labor brawl with foreigners. As I stated to you this morning, we are +conservative and until you get matters adjusted amicably with your +competitors, we do not care to go into your proposition further."</p> + +<p>He rose at once, showing the interview was at an end. Gregory followed +him to the door. In the out<!-- Page 210 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>side office he found his friend waiting. +Hawkins, clad in outing clothes, was smiling broadly. The smile, +however, quickly disappeared as he caught sight of his friend's face.</p> + +<p>"Anything the matter?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Gregory walked with him to the street before replying. Then he bought a +copy of <i>The Times</i> and the two men read the account of the fight with +the aliens.</p> + +<p>"What of that?" Hawkins queried. "Your men licked them, didn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But it cost me my chance with Winfield & Camby. Mr. Dupont called +the whole thing off."</p> + +<p>"The devil he did!"</p> + +<p>Hawkins' smile returned.</p> + +<p>"Why, the old fool," he ejaculated. "Can't he see that this will only be +publicity for your brands. Why, darn his crinkled old hide, I'll show +him. And I'll bet I'll have him eating out of your hand in less than a +week."</p> + +<p>He glanced curiously at the paper.</p> + +<p>"Regular correspondence," he muttered, as he noticed the date-line of +the news-item. "That means it comes from the little paper down there. +What did you ever do to Tommy Black?"</p> + +<p>Gregory shook his head blankly.</p> + +<p>"I don't even know who he is," he answered.</p> + +<p>Hawkins laughed.</p> + +<p>"He seems to know you all right," he answered. Then he explained: "Black +is the editor of <i>The Legonia Star</i>. A man by the name of Rock owns +it."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 211 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>PLANS FOR A SHOW-DOWN</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot">Shall the control of our fisheries pass into foreign +hands?<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="blockquot">Riot among Legonia fishermen raises interesting +question. Ex-service men contest forcibly with aliens +for freedom of the seas. Show-down expected in the near +future.</div> + +<p>"How does that strike you?" Hawkins grinned and shoved the copy of <i>The +Times</i> forward as "Exhibit A" for publicity. "Notice the date line," he +exclaimed. "From our own correspondent."</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory read the news item carefully before replying. First came +a true account of the fight with Mascola's men on the beach which had +ended in the decisive victory for the service men. Followed, in +chronological order, a review of past interferences suffered by the +American fishermen at the hands of the foreigners. And lastly, glowingly +outlined, came his plans for meeting the opposition by a cooperative +organization of one hundred per cent. bona-fide Americans. The article +concluded:</p> + +<div class="blockquot">The public will watch with a great deal of interest the +outcome of Mr. Gregory's fight to regain control of a<!-- Page 212 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +lost industry in local waters. Should the young cannery +owner succeed, it will mean much to the people of Port +Angeles in reducing the high cost of living. For Mr. +Gregory has already under way, comprehensive plans for +supplying the public with fresh fish at a greatly +reduced price, through his system of establishing +cooperative markets and dealing direct with the +consumer.</div> + +<p>Gregory's face was radiant with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"You're there on that kind of stuff, Bill," he exclaimed, gripping +Hawkins by the hand. "You surely put it over in great shape."</p> + +<p>Hawkins frowned.</p> + +<p>"Fell down on one thing," he observed. "The city editor blue-penciled my +direct reference to your brands of canned stuff. Claimed it was slapping +the ad man right in the face. Say, I'll tell you what to do," he went +on. "Let me write you up some good ads for your stuff and shoot them in +right away to the advertising department. That will put you in strong +with the paper and I can 'dead-head' a lot more dope through."</p> + +<p>Gregory gave Hawkins <i>carte blanche</i>.</p> + +<p>As Hawkins set to work, Dickie Lang entered.</p> + +<p>"Light haul all around," she announced. "The albacore are heading out. +Looks as if we were going to have a little weather."</p> + +<p>Gregory's expression changed quickly at her news.</p> + +<p>"That means we've got to follow them up," he said. "We've got to have +the fish. We've been putting it over on Mascola for the past few weeks +and<!-- Page 213 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> we can't fall down now. The jobbers are watching us and we've got +to show them we can deliver the goods. In addition to that I am going to +enter into quite an extensive advertising campaign and when it begins to +bear its fruit, we've got to have the stuff on hand to come across. +There are a lot of people looking this way right now and we've got to +make good."</p> + +<p>"That's the way to talk," encouraged Hawkins. Then he smiled at the girl +and nodded toward his friend. "Notice how I'm bringing him alive," he +exclaimed. "He's quit 'shooting nickels' now. He's raised his sights +already."</p> + +<p>They all smiled at Hawkins' enthusiasm. Then the girl's face became +serious.</p> + +<p>"You know what going out to sea means," she said quietly. "It just about +means Diablo. That's where Mascola's boats went this morning and I +shouldn't wonder if they struck it out there. When they get back we'll +know."</p> + +<p>"We've got to know before that," Gregory averred. "Why not send a bunch +of the boys over right away?"</p> + +<p>Dickie shook her head with great emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Haven't the gear," she objected. "It's liable to be nasty around the +island at this time of the year. We're shy on deep-sea hooks and heavy +line."</p> + +<p>"We'll get it." Gregory turned to the telephone. "I'll order it by +express," he announced, as he put in his call for the ship-chandlers at +Port Angeles. While he waited for the call, he addressed Dickie Lang. +"We can send some over right away, can't we?"<!-- Page 214 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>She considered. Then nodded acquiescence. "The <i>Pelican</i> and the +<i>Curlew</i> are outfitted for that kind of work," she stated. "We could get +them moving in half an hour. They could go over and do the scouting. +They both have the wireless, you know."</p> + +<p>Gregory made up his mind at once.</p> + +<p>"Will you give me a list of the stuff you need?" he asked. "As soon as I +get this call through I'll come out and we'll get them started. We ought +to get the stuff we need to-night, or early to-morrow. Then the rest can +clear." His face brightened. "I'll have the <i>Richard</i> to-morrow," he +said. "Bronson's going to bring her back and stay two or three days to +put me on to the ropes. We'll get him to take us to Diablo."</p> + +<p>"Count me in on that too," exclaimed Hawkins. "I've got it coming. +Haven't had a breath of salt air since I've been here."</p> + +<p>The girl completed her list of the required gear as the telephone rang. +Gregory turned to the instrument and gave the order.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he concluded. "You'll have to have the cash? Thirty days +is customary on that kind of stuff, isn't it? Well, I've got to have +it.—All right, go ahead and draw on me if that's the way you feel about +it.—But send the stuff." He turned wrathfully to the girl. "The +robbers," he said. "They have me in a hole and they know it. We have to +have that gear right away though Heaven only knows where I'm going to +raise the money to pay for it."</p> + +<p>The problem of raising approximately three thou<!-- Page 215 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>sand in cash before ten +o'clock the following morning presented its difficulties. Gregory +decided to tackle the matter without delay.</p> + +<p>"I'll try the local bank," he declared. "And give old Rock a chance to +make good on his promise."</p> + +<p>Dickie strove to dissuade him.</p> + +<p>"Keep in the clear of that old hypocrite," she cautioned. "If he lets +you have it at all it will be only with strings which will tangle you up +later on."</p> + +<p>Gregory was on his way to the door.</p> + +<p>"A man needing money like I do at present has to get it where he can," +he answered. "Will you see to getting the <i>Pelican</i> and <i>Curlew</i> started +as soon as possible?"</p> + +<p>She promised and he hurried out.</p> + +<p>Gregory found Rock in his private office at the bank and was welcomed +warmly by the financier.</p> + +<p>"Growing more like your father every day you live," was the president's +greeting. "How happy we would all be if he could have been spared to +this community."</p> + +<p>Gregory lost no time in preliminaries.</p> + +<p>"You told me if I ever got into a tight place, you'd see me through," he +began.</p> + +<p>Rock nodded and the corners of his thick lips turned downward.</p> + +<p>"I sincerely trust you have met with no business reverses, my young +friend," he purred. "However, if such is the case, feel perfectly free +to make me your confidant."<!-- Page 216 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>Briefly Gregory stated his case, to which the old man listened +attentively. When he had concluded, Rock's eyes were on the ceiling, and +his soft white hands caressed the desk noiselessly.</p> + +<p>"If you will accept a word of advice from a man old enough to be your +father, and one who is entirely disinterested in you, save in a personal +way as the son of my old friend, you will——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>Gregory cut short his rambling.</p> + +<p>"Stay away from Diablo Island."</p> + +<p>Rock's advice carried a mandatory note which was not lost upon his +auditor.</p> + +<p>"Why?" Gregory asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Rock searched the far corners of the room for the answer to the +question. At length he replied: "It is an extremely dangerous place, +particularly at this season of the year. Storms are prevalent about +Diablo and by making the venture at this time, you place not only your +capital in jeopardy, but the lives of your men as well."</p> + +<p>Gregory realized he had little time for argument.</p> + +<p>"I've asked for a loan of three thousand for ten days, Mr. Rock. It's up +to you. What will you do for me?"</p> + +<p>A slight frown passed over the bank president's forehead at the young +man's insistence. For a moment he gave his entire attention to the +blotter on the desk. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"I will let you have the money you desire on one<!-- Page 217 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> condition. That you +confine your operations to coastal waters. Your security will then be +comparatively safe and——"</p> + +<p>"You forget, Mr. Rock, that I am not taking my cannery with me to El +Diablo," Gregory broke in. "Don't you regard the plant and the canned +product on the floor as sufficient security for a temporary loan of +three thousand dollars?"</p> + +<p>Rock nodded. After a moment's silence he said: "Then there is another +thing. This is a time to speak plainly. Otherwise I would make no +mention of it. But as you are seeking a favor at the hands of this bank, +it is my duty to inform you that we do not wish to countenance or +encourage, in any way, your policy of stirring up trouble with our alien +population."</p> + +<p>Gregory rose angrily.</p> + +<p>"There is no use of my taking up your time or mine any further," he +said. "My business is my own. And while we're on the subject I'll say +that I intend to run it as I please. Neither myself nor my men are +seeking trouble with Mascola's foreigners. But I'll tell you here and +now that we are prepared to fight, if need be, for what the law says we +can have. We want only a square deal, Mr. Rock, and you can take it from +me we are going to get it."</p> + +<p>Walking out of the bank president's office Gregory observed a familiar +figure leaning idly against one of the grated wickets. And though the +man was dressed in the extreme of fashion, he had no difficulty in<!-- Page 218 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +recognizing him. It was Leo Bandrist, the lord of El Diablo. Gregory +returned the islander's nod and hurried to the street. As he walked to +the cannery he found it hard to concentrate his thoughts on the problem +of raising the desired funds. Rock was a royal old hypocrite. Of that he +was sure now. The financier had used his influence among the jobbers to +some purpose. He had knocked him through his local paper. And now he was +telling him, almost threatening him, to stay away from El Diablo. His +mind flashed again to Bandrist. What brought the man to Rock's bank? +Business, no doubt. But what kind? Was Rock backing Bandrist? Were the +two men in cahoots with Mascola's gang? If so, for what purpose?</p> + +<p>The questions multiplied with astonishing rapidity. When Gregory arrived +at the cannery he had decided upon a definite course of action. He would +wire Farnsworth, the estate's attorney, to sell his bonds at a sacrifice +if need be. They should bring enough, added to his own personal account, +to pay for the equipment he desired. After that, he'd go to Diablo and +call Rock's bluff, whatever it was.</p> + +<p>It was late that evening before he received an answer from the lawyer. +Farnsworth had regarded the instructions of his client as sheer idiocy +and had taken no pains to conceal the fact. But he had sold the bonds +and was forwarding the money. Close upon the message from the attorney +came one from the ship-chandlers at Port Angeles. They were shipping the +gear in the early morning. Gregory heaved two<!-- Page 219 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> great sighs of relief +which adequately expressed his feelings at the contents of the two +respective messages.</p> + +<p>The day had ended better than he anticipated. The <i>Pelican</i> and the +<i>Curlew</i> were at Diablo by now. He should hear from them any minute. +While he was waiting there was much that he could do. He took up his +personal bank-book and began to balance it. A low rap at the office-door +interrupted him.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang entered with McCoy and Hawkins.</p> + +<p>"We've been out for a walk," she announced. "Thought we'd stop in and +see if you'd heard anything from the boys yet."</p> + +<p>"Not yet," Gregory answered. "I'm going to keep a man at the key all +night. We should have heard before this. They got a fairly early start +and with good weather should have hit the island in time to get a good +line on things before dark. I just got a wire from the ship-chandlers +and they are shipping the stuff the first thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>As the talk turned to Diablo, Hawkins listened attentively though he +said but little. At length the party rose to go.</p> + +<p>As Gregory was bidding them good night one of the radio men entered with +a message. Gregory glanced at the meaningless jumble of words and shook +his head.</p> + +<p>"Too much for me," he announced. "I haven't savvied the code out well +enough yet to read this one."</p> + +<p>The operator again took the message.</p> + +<p>"Haven't been using it long," he answered. "But<!-- Page 220 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> one of the boys dropped +on to a little rig on one of the cliffs a little way from here, so we +thought it was just as well to be careful."</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded and the company drew closer to the operator as he bent +over his work. When the message was decoded it read:</p> + +<p class="quotdate">Off Northwest Harbor El Diablo<br /> +From: Launch <i>Pelican</i>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot">Albacore tuna running close shore this end. Slipped +round Mascola's boats by running round south shore. His +fleet off Hell-Hole Isthmus. Spotted them hour ago. +Don't think he's wise we're here. Can load up fleet if +they get here quick and can dodge by Mascola. What shall +we do?</div> + +<p>The message was signed by Tom Howard.</p> + +<p>Dickie beamed at the news.</p> + +<p>"I know right where he is," she said. "When you get them that close in +at this time of the year it means they are running in bunches and +there's pretty apt to be some weather."</p> + +<p>She glanced at her watch.</p> + +<p>"Not much sleep for me to-night," she announced. "I've got a lot to do +before morning. Guess I'll be on my way. It will mean work to clear by +to-morrow noon and every minute is going to count."</p> + +<p>"It will mean a scrap with Mascola too, unless I miss my guess," put in +McCoy. "When he finds we are hitting into his territory there's liable +to be trouble."<!-- Page 221 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hawkins' eye brightened at the possibility. "That will mean a story for +me," he contributed.</p> + +<p>"It will mean more than all that," Gregory said slowly. "It means the +thing we need most—money. Fish in car-load lots. A chance to show the +jobbers we know our business. It may mean a show-down with Mascola. And +if it does, we've got to be ready when it comes."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 222 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE GRAY GHOST</h3> + + +<p>Ready to clear for Diablo at last! Gregory's lieutenants had done their +work well. The gear from the ship-chandlers had arrived on the morning +train. Also the remittance from Farnsworth. Dickie Lang had outfitted +the fishing-boats in record time. Crews of experienced men were selected +and supplies taken aboard. One by one the launches were carefully +examined by the girl and despatched singly on a course mapped out by +herself, a course which would bring them to Northwest Harbor without +skirting the shore of the island. The auxiliary supply boat, the last of +the fleet to go, had cleared but an hour before. For the time being +Dickie Lang was content to rest upon her oars.</p> + +<p>Bronson was ready. In response to a night letter from Gregory he had +arrived on time with the <i>Richard</i>, bringing with him a full equipment +of heavy gear. Tuned to the minute, the speed-craft waited impatiently +at the cannery float for the signal to be under way.</p> + +<p>Jack McCoy was ready. Everything within the cannery was shipshape to +handle a big run. Depleted<!-- Page 223 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> supplies had been hastily ordered. Necessary +additions to the floor force had been made and the house-manager was in +possession of detailed instructions for the running of the plant during +the owner's absence.</p> + +<p>Even Hawkins was ready. The advertisements had been written and checked +over before being despatched to <i>The Times</i> to "farm out" among the +other city dailies. In addition to that, the newspaperman had arranged +to communicate with his paper <i>via</i> the cannery wireless should he be +fortunate enough to secure a big story.</p> + +<p>Gregory himself was ready. The details of the embarkation had been +covered to the minutest detail. A plan had been formulated in the early +morning hours for the outwitting of Mascola at El Diablo, a plan to +which Dickie Lang had given her hearty approbation before it was sent to +Howard over the radio.</p> + +<p>Gregory turned for a last word with McCoy before giving the order which +would send the <i>Richard</i> to sea.</p> + +<p>"We'll keep in close touch, Jack," he said. "We'll expect you to do the +same. This is Friday. If we send in a lot of fish to-morrow it will mean +a straight run over Sunday. Keep a man at the key day and night. And +don't forget that we are low on cash. If you get any orders that look at +all good, grab them until we can get 'out of the woods.' We're going up +against a mighty stiff proposition. It's make or break, and the sooner +we get down to cases with Mascola the better it will be."<!-- Page 224 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>He put out his hand and McCoy's fingers tightened over his. Then McCoy +watched him go down the gangway and take his place beside Dickie Lang in +the <i>Richard</i>.</p> + + + +<p class="break">"You don't mean to tell me that's Diablo?"</p> + +<p>Hawkins wiped his dripping face and stared at the misty blot on the +purpling horizon.</p> + +<p>Gregory and Dickie Lang looked up from their scrutiny of the small clock +on the <i>Richard's</i> dash and smiled:</p> + +<p>"Two hours and ten minutes to here," Gregory announced. "We can make it +easy in two hours and a half, and we've been bucking a head wind and sea +all the way over. If the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> can do this well, Mascola will +certainly have to show me."</p> + +<p>Bronson smiled but made no comment.</p> + +<p>As the island loomed across their track, Dickie directed a change of +course.</p> + +<p>"Cut in close to that big cliff on the northeast corner and we'll work +our way along close in to the shore."</p> + +<p>Bronson complied. Then the girl turned to Gregory.</p> + +<p>"Get my idea?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You want to see if Mascola has fallen for our scheme," Gregory replied.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. We'll cruise by his fleet and lay to by the <i>Pelican</i>. Then +we'll find out if he's spotted the <i>Curlew</i> yet. If he hasn't, the boys +can get in in the<!-- Page 225 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> dark and 'chum' the fish. By that time we won't care +what Mascola does."</p> + +<p>The passing of a few minutes brought them in sight of the alien fleet +grouped closely together off <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Back'">Black</ins> Point.</p> + +<p>"They've shifted," announced the girl. "Tom's message said they were off +the Hell-Hole."</p> + +<p>Gregory said nothing but as they drew nearer he exclaimed: "Look! +They've got the <i>Pelican</i> sewed up tighter than a drum. Looks like +Mascola hasn't tumbled on to the other boat yet."</p> + +<p>"Can't tell."</p> + +<p>Dickie searched the darkening water intently. Then she observed: "I +don't see Mascola's boat anywhere. Maybe he's cruising the island."</p> + +<p>Throttling to the speed of an ordinary fishing craft they approached the +fleet and dodged skilfully among the boats in the direction of the +<i>Pelican</i>.</p> + +<p>Tom Howard had but little news. He had put to sea from Northwest Harbor +according to orders. Had circled the island and appeared off the east +coast at daybreak as if en route from the mainland. Had stumbled on to a +small school of albacore off Black Point and started fishing. Mascola's +fleet had moved down from Hell-Hole in the early morning. Had "fenced" +him. The Italian's men had been drinking freely all day and had refused +to give him sea-way to get out. Of Mascola himself he had seen but +little. The Italian boss had been down in the morning but had paid +little attention to his men. After boarding<!-- Page 226 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> but one of his boats he had +returned with the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> in the direction of the Hell-Hole +Isthmus. He had not been back since.</p> + +<p>"Is the <i>Curlew</i> still off Northwest Harbor?" inquired Gregory.</p> + +<p>"Don't know. Haven't tried to reach them. Didn't want to wise these +fellows we had anybody else over here. 'Sparks' says they've got a rig +round here somewhere and have been trying to hail somebody all day. +We've been getting a few messages from the boys. Most of them are off +the other side of the island now, waitin' for dark to pass the harbor."</p> + +<p>Gregory and Dickie were elated to find the fleet so near. At the same +time both looked worried at the mention of another wireless equipment in +the immediate vicinity.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet they're trying to reach that shore-set the boys spotted the +other day," hazarded the girl. She looked at her watch and glanced +toward the towering peaks which cast their shadows far out into the +water. "Well, if they are, we can't stop them," she observed. "What do +you say we start along the north shore with an eye out for fish and +Mascola? Maybe he's already nosing around Northwest Harbor."</p> + +<p>Gregory agreed to the girl's suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Running slowly will bring us up with the <i>Curlew</i> about dark," he said. +"Let's go."</p> + +<p>Climbing again into the <i>Richard</i>, Bronson threw in the clutch and the +speed-craft zigzagged her way through the fishing fleet and headed away +from Black<!-- Page 227 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> Point. At the same time one of the faster of the alien boats +detached itself from the others and trailed along in their wake.</p> + +<p>"Better slip that fellow," advised the girl. "We don't want him tagging. +If we keep well in he won't be able to see us long."</p> + +<p>Gregory gave Bronson the necessary orders, and the <i>Richard</i> bounded +away from her pursuer and raced into the shadows of the cliff. When they +arrived at the point near the Hell-Hole Isthmus, the speed-craft motor +began to miss and Bronson guided the <i>Richard</i> in the lea of the +promontory and threw out an anchor.</p> + +<p>"Good place to fix that right now," he said. "You see everything's new +and I've been feeding too much oil. The plugs are all gummed up. 'Twon't +take but a minute to clean them."</p> + +<p>While he worked over the motor Gregory's eyes roamed shoreward to the +cliffs. It was quite dark now and only the sound of the lapping waves +betokened the presence of the jagged rocks which projected above the +surface of the water near the shore. It was almost here he remembered +suddenly that the <i>Sea Gull</i> had been wrecked. As he looked out into the +darkness, he felt Dickie's fingers tighten on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she cried. "What's that behind us?"</p> + +<p>Gregory turned about to see the black waters to the sternward were +rippled with sparkling threads of silver-white. From out the darkness +came a swiftly moving gray shadow. One glance astern caused<!-- Page 228 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> Bronson to +slash the anchor-rope which held the <i>Richard</i>. Then he started the +auxiliary motor and threw the speed-craft forward with a jerk. The same +instant a long gray hull brushed by them and disappeared into the gloom +as silently as she had come. Bronson whirled the <i>Richard</i> about, gazing +intently after the departing stranger.</p> + +<p>"A miss is as good as a mile," he observed. "If it hadn't been for the +dual motor we'd have been out of luck."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't say so," Hawkins snapped. "A miss of a mile wouldn't give a +man heart-failure. Lord, I'm weak as a cat."</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory leaned closer and spoke in a voice which only the +boatman could hear. Bronson put about at his words and muffling down, +followed silently after the gray boat.</p> + +<p>"Cut out your lights."</p> + +<p>Bronson threw the switch at Gregory's command.</p> + +<p>"It's against the law," he muttered, "but I reckon it's safer with a +bird like that."</p> + +<p>Soon the strange craft was again dimly visible, appearing like a gray +blot in the darkness ahead. Off the Hell-Hole she turned shoreward and +was lost to view.</p> + +<p>"Tell him to stop the motor for a moment," whispered Dickie Lang.</p> + +<p>When Bronson complied, the silence for the space of a few minutes was +unbroken. Then from the little cove came the muffled cough of a +high-speed motor.<!-- Page 229 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right. Head out."</p> + +<p>The <i>Richard</i> sped on her way at Gregory's command. Then he asked: "What +did that sound like to you, Bronson?"</p> + +<p>The boatman answered promptly: "That was the bird you're looking for. +I've heard the <i>Fuor d'Italia's</i> exhaust too many times to guess wrong."</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang nodded sagely in the darkness, while Bronson volunteered:</p> + +<p>"I think I know the one that nearly run us down too. Running dark's her +long suit." For a moment he hesitated, then he added: "She looked a +whole lot like the <i>Gray Ghost</i>."</p> + +<p>"Interesting, if true," muttered Hawkins, sliding nearer to the +operator. Then he asked aloud: "Who's the <i>Gray Ghost</i>?"</p> + +<p>Bronson noted the suppressed eagerness of the man's tone. Then he +remembered that Hawkins was a newspaperman. Reporters were a nosey class +as a rule. Perhaps it would be as well to keep still. After all, what +did he, Bronson, know about the <i>Gray Ghost</i>? What did anybody really +know about her, for that matter?</p> + +<p>"The <i>Gray Ghost</i> is a fishing-boat," he said quietly, "that was built +by Al Stevenson. She's bigger and quieter than the average. She's +supposed to be about as fast for her size as any of them. I heard the +other day she was owned by a fellow by the name of——" He stopped +abruptly. "I can't remember the man's name," he concluded.<!-- Page 230 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hawkins knew Bronson was lying. Straightway he decided to find out what +he could about the ownership of the <i>Gray Ghost</i>. Of the vessel herself, +he had some knowledge though he gave no intimation that he had ever +heard the name before.</p> + +<p>"Mascola must own the <i>Gray Ghost</i> himself, the way he's sticking around +her," observed Dickie Lang. "He must have been waiting in there for her +or he'd have been scouting around before this."</p> + +<p>Gregory agreed.</p> + +<p>"Tom said they were pretty well fished out down below," he contributed, +"and Mascola hadn't given them a new location. He's evidently got +something on his mind that's more important to him than fishing."</p> + +<p>Bronson said nothing but smiled grimly in the darkness. Perhaps that +wasn't such a wild guess, at that. But it was none of his business. His +firm was building boats for the Italian, so why should he say anything?</p> + +<p>The sky was dark overhead and a freshening breeze sprang up when they +reached the tip of the island and headed shoreward. Rounding Devil's +Point they came in full view of the glimmering lights of the fishing +fleet.</p> + +<p>"Looks like home," commented Dickie. "Wonder how long the boys have been +there." She checked up the lights rapidly, then announced: "They're all +there but one. Probably the supply-boat. She isn't due yet. That's +pretty quick work I'd say."</p> + +<p>Hailing the first of his fishing-boats, they learned<!-- Page 231 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> that the voyage +from the mainland had been without incident. The albacore were thick +about the island. They were keeping the fish around with live bait. All +of the fishermen predicted a record haul.</p> + +<p>Proceeding to the <i>Curlew</i>, Bronson tied the <i>Richard</i> alongside and the +party from the speed-launch climbed aboard. Then the girl conferred with +Gregory and plans for the night were formulated. The fleet would lay at +anchor with every motor in instant readiness to get the respective +vessels under way at a given signal. The men would alternate on an +anchor watch and keep the fish "chummed" up during the night. Those who +were off duty would get their needed rest and make no unnecessary noise. +No vessel was to move from her anchorage without permission from the +<i>Curlew</i>. Fishing would begin at daybreak.</p> + +<p>With preparations completed for the night, Gregory's party made +themselves comfortable aboard the <i>Curlew</i>. A message was despatched to +the <i>Pelican</i> instructing Howard to join the fleet shortly after +midnight. And the cannery was notified of the safe arrival of the boats +at the island.</p> + +<p>After supper Hawkins clung tenaciously to Bronson and the two men +retired to the bow and conversed in low tones. Gregory sat with Dickie +Lang in the stern and for some time puffed at his pipe in silence. The +yellow rays which issued from the fresneled glass light on the mast-head +fell full upon the girl's figure and Gregory saw that her eyes were +fixed on the dark outlines of the coast.<!-- Page 232 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you make of Mascola?"</p> + +<p>Dickie shook her head. "I don't know," she answered. "He has me guessing +right now. I can't understand why he's been hanging round Hell-Hole all +day and hasn't tumbled on to the <i>Curlew</i>. He seems to have forgotten +his boats entirely."</p> + +<p>"I have an idea he has," Gregory answered. "Sometimes I think that +perhaps fishing is only a small part of Mascola's business. We both know +he hasn't made much with his boats in the last few months, yet Bronson +says he's having twenty new launches built at Port Angeles. That will +run into a big bunch of money at present prices."</p> + +<p>"You're not the only one who has ideas to-night," Dickie said softly. +"Being around Diablo always makes me think—and wonder."</p> + +<p>"What?" Gregory encouraged.</p> + +<p>The girl moved closer to his side.</p> + +<p>"I'm wondering about the same things our fathers wondered about," she +said. As Gregory said nothing, she went on hurriedly: "Did you ever stop +to think that if Mascola and that gray boat lay in at Hell-Hole that +they are doing it with Bandrist's permission? That means that whatever +they are doing there, Bandrist is in on it." She paused abruptly and her +eyes rested full on Gregory's face. "I have an idea that old Rock is in +on it, too," she said. "He and Bandrist are pretty thick evidently, and +Rock always did stick up for Mascola. And all three of them are doing +all they can against us."<!-- Page 233 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you think it is something else than fishing?" Gregory prompted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm sure of it. I think our fathers had the same idea. I believe +they came over here alone that night to find out."</p> + +<p>"Do you think——" Gregory began.</p> + +<p>But the girl answered his unfinished question.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said slowly, "I think they found out. That is why they never +got out alive."</p> + +<p>"But they were wrecked and drowned."</p> + +<p>Dickie shook her head slowly. "I have never thought so," she answered in +a half-whisper. "Listen," she went on, "boats like the <i>Sea Gull</i> don't +wreck themselves and a better man with a launch than my dad never lived. +Men like him don't drown easily. He was a regular fish in the water and +had got out of many a smash-up before."</p> + +<p>"But they were drowned. The coroner himself told me——"</p> + +<p>"You're right," she interrupted. "Any man can be drowned. How long do +you suppose you and Tom Howard would have lasted on the island if you +had insisted on staying the night we were over here?"</p> + +<p>Gregory considered her words carefully. In the light of past events, +they held some truth. But if Bill Lang and his father had met with foul +play, why were the bodies ever recovered? Why would it not have been +simpler to have made way with them entirely? He put the question and +Dickie answered promptly:</p> + +<p>"That would have caused a search of the island.<!-- Page 234 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> Just what they do not +want, if they are up to anything crooked over here. With the bodies +recovered and the boat smashed, it had all the appearance of a natural +wreck."</p> + +<p>"Why have you never said anything like this before?"</p> + +<p>Dickie hesitated. Then she answered simply. "Because I never felt as if +I knew you well enough. I have no proof. It's only a girl's idea, and +one I'm afraid you would have taken but little stock in."</p> + +<p>"You're mistaken," Gregory replied. "I would have. And perhaps by now we +could have had the proof."</p> + +<p>"No. We've done just right. If we had pretended we suspected anything +they would have gone to cover. There's only one way to get to the bottom +of this thing and that is to beat Mascola at his own game. Make him +think that fish are the only thing in the world we care for around +Diablo. And while we're fishing over here, keep our eyes open and learn +what we can."</p> + +<p>Before Gregory could reply the silence of the night was broken by the +sharp exhaust of a high-speed motor. Looking in the direction of the +sound, he saw a flash of red pierce the darkness and heard the girl's +voice close to his ear.</p> + +<p>"I guess we're due to find out something now. Here comes Mascola."</p> + +<p>Together they watched the red light brighten. Then came a flash of green +as the oncoming launch swerved and sped toward them. In a few moments<!-- Page 235 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +Mascola had located the flag-ship and the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> lay snorting +angrily by the <i>Richard's</i> side.</p> + +<p>"I want to see the boss," demanded the Italian.</p> + +<p>Gregory leaned over the rail and focused his flash-light on Mascola.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he called.</p> + +<p>Mascola blinked under the bright rays. Seated beside him was another man +who leaned closer into the shadow of the fishing-boat.</p> + +<p>"I want you to move," Mascola said thickly. "My men were here first. +Plenty of fish at San Anselmo. Many as here. If you go to the other +island there will be no trouble."</p> + +<p>"And if we stay?"</p> + +<p>Mascola's passenger looked up quickly at Gregory's words, and the light +fell full upon his face.</p> + +<p>It was Bandrist.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will not decide to stay," he said slowly. "As I have told +you before, I'm not seeking trouble on this island. Mascola's men have +been drinking too much and are ugly. A supply-boat arrived to-day from +the mainland with too much liquor. I am having some difficulty with my +own men. I hope you will help us avoid trouble."</p> + +<p>Gregory answered them at once.</p> + +<p>"If there is any trouble, it will be of your making. The ocean is free +to all. We are interfering with no one's rights. We're here. The fish +are here. And here we're going to stay."</p> + +<p>"I'll show you, you——"<!-- Page 236 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bandrist checked the Italian's angry outburst by placing a hand firmly +upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he began. But Mascola's open muffler drowned his words and +the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> leaped away into the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Mascola's drunk," commented Dickie, looking after them. "Otherwise, he +would never have talked like that. It's a wonder Bandrist ever mixed up +with him." She turned about and confronted Gregory. Behind him were +Hawkins, Bronson and the crew of the <i>Curlew</i>. "This means we've got to +move," she exclaimed. "We'd better round up the bunch, give them their +positions and start fishing."</p> + +<p>Gregory and the girl climbed into the <i>Richard</i>, calling to Bronson to +follow.</p> + +<p>"Tell 'Sparks' to send word to Howard to beat it out with the <i>Pelican</i> +right away," Gregory instructed Hawkins. Then he exclaimed to Dickie as +she took her seat beside him: "It looks like Mascola was spoiling for a +fight. And if he is I'll say he's due for the surprise of his life."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 237 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>STRICTLY ON THE DEFENSIVE</h3> + + +<p>The <i>Richard</i> was in motion before the echoes of the <i>Fuor d'Italia's</i> +gatlin-like exhaust had died away. Directing Bronson to take them +alongside each of the vessels which composed the fleet, Gregory and +Dickie Lang boarded the fishing vessels and conferred with the +respective captains. Gregory's instructions were phrased with military +directness.</p> + +<p>Every launch was assigned a definite position which it was to assume at +once and hold at all cost. The fleet was divided into three divisions. +The main unit, comprising the vessels equipped with the live-bait tanks, +were to begin "chumming" at once within a given area. As soon as +practicable, fishing was to commence. The second division, made up for +the most part of the heavier, Diesel-motored vessels, was to lay to in V +formation about the fishermen to protect them from interference in the +direction from which the fish were running. The remainder of the fleet +were to stand by as a rearguard, cover the extreme flanks and maintain a +reserve.</p> + +<p>Before taking leave of each craft as it left to go to its new position, +Gregory briefly addressed the<!-- Page 238 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> crew: "Get this, fellows. We're here to +fish. Not to fight. If trouble comes, let Mascola start it. If he does, +I expect you to hold your positions. Keep in the clear and use no +firearms. Remember, what you do to-night, binds me. Play safe. Keep +cool. But get the fish."</p> + +<p>To a man, the ex-sailors understood the seriousness of the situation, +though there were some who argued against the poor fighting policy of +letting the other fellow hit the first blow. The radical element, +however, were soon quieted by the older and more conservative men, and +all agreed to stay in the clear so "nobody could hang anything on the +boss."</p> + +<p>Tom Howard had arrived with the <i>Pelican</i> when Gregory and Dickie Lang +returned to the <i>Curlew</i>. The fisherman brought the news that the men of +the alien fleet were in a high state of intoxication. Moreover, they +appeared to be completely out of live bait.</p> + +<p>Dickie smiled grimly. "That means that if Mascola does send them down +here, he'll just be looking for trouble. If they haven't the bait, all +they can do will be to try to steal our school like they did before, and +I guess this time they'll find they're out of luck."</p> + +<p>"Met Mascola on my way down," Howard announced. "He was running +wide-open, heading straight for Black Point."</p> + +<p>Gregory frowned. "It's hard to tell what Mascola will do to-night," he +said.</p> + +<p>The <i>Pelican</i> was despatched at once to take her position as the leader +of the front rank. As the <i>Curlew</i><!-- Page 239 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> made ready to get under way, Hawkins +appeared at the rail.</p> + +<p>"Don't forget the press," he called. "If I'm going to do this affair +justice I've got to be at the ringside."</p> + +<p>Gregory moved nearer to Bronson and allowed the newspaperman to +accompany the party on the speed-craft. Then the <i>Richard</i> sped away to +see that all the boats were in their proper places. Arriving in the +center of the fishing area, Dickie Lang watched the men "chumming" the +fish and suggested they throw out their lines at once.</p> + +<p>"I don't like the looks of the weather," she confided to Gregory. "It +feels like a blow. I'm going to have a look at the glass on the +<i>Snipe</i>." Gregory noticed that the girl appeared worried when she +returned to the <i>Richard</i>. "Dropping fast," she announced. "It may be +just a squall or it may be a real blow. This is no place for us in +either case. We must rush the fishing all we can."</p> + +<p>Gregory agreed and gave the necessary orders. From the sides of the +<i>Snipe</i> the lines flashed over the rail. On the instant the albacore +began to strike. As the <i>Richard</i> bounded away to notify the other boats +of the order to hurry operations, the girl observed:</p> + +<p>"The fish are heading close in all right. They're running from +something. Now is the time to hit it hard. Oughtn't to take long the way +they're starting. I must see that the boys have all the barbs off the +hooks. We have to work fast. And when the blow comes, we'll have to get +clear of the Diablo coast."<!-- Page 240 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>The second tour of the fishing fleet was only partly completed when +Dickie directed Gregory's gaze in the direction of the point off +Northwest Harbor.</p> + +<p>"Here they come," she cried. "Mascola's looking for trouble just as I +told you."</p> + +<p>Gregory surveyed the bobbing lights in silence as they moved nearer; saw +the red-lights blur and fade into green as the vessels changed direction +and headed shoreward; noted one twinkling light running far in advance +of its fellows; saw it swerve and double again into red and green. That +meant that the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> was bearing down upon them. Directing +Bronson to intercept the Italian, Gregory explained:</p> + +<p>"I want to give Mascola another chance. We're not looking for trouble. +He can lay to the seaward but he's got to give us sea-way to get out if +it roughens up."</p> + +<p>The <i>Richard</i> swung wide and came abreast the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>. Then it +came to Mascola that the strange craft on his left had some speed. Above +the roar of his own exhaust he heard his name called in a peremptory +hail. The hot blood surged to his face and he stepped on the throttle. +He had no time to talk. He must spot the position of the cannery boats +and give his men instructions how to break through.</p> + +<p>The <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> bounded away with a sullen roar. But before Mascola +could circle in the direction of the lights of the fleet, the <i>Richard</i> +was again on his rail. Cursing to himself, the Italian advanced his +spark and pressed hard on the throttle. But though he gained a<!-- Page 241 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> few feet +on his pursuer, he knew that he dared not try to make the turn. His boat +would "turn turtle" or be cut in two by the craft behind.</p> + +<p>On the two boats sped through the darkness. The lights of the fishing +fleet flashed by them like the gleam of switch-lights, seen from an +express train. Mascola's anger mounted. His men were waiting for orders +and he had seen nothing of the enemy's formation. A plan formed quickly +in his brain. It was dangerous of course. But the liquor gave him +courage. Removing one hand from the wheel, he extended it toward the +switch-board.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't dare make the turn at this speed," Dickie shouted in +Gregory's ear. "Tell Bronson to watch him close when he doubles to come +back. He'll head into the swell, to the starboard."</p> + +<p>Gregory was giving the boatman the message when he felt Dickie grasp his +arm.</p> + +<p>"He's switched off his lights," she cried. "He's going to try to dodge +us, running dark."</p> + +<p>Bronson had already slackened speed at sight of the disappearing lights +ahead. Then he put the <i>Richard</i> hard over, and the speed-craft swerved +with a jerk which left her passengers crowding close against one +another.</p> + +<p>"Give her the gun," shouted Gregory. "Head back. Don't let him slip us."</p> + +<p>As the boatman complied and the <i>Richard</i> began to lift her hull from +the sea, the dark waters ahead were brightened by a phosphorescent +flash. Directly<!-- Page 242 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> across their course lay the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>. Twisting +the steering wheel with only the slightest pressure of his fingers to +avoid turning the <i>Richard</i> over, Bronson opened the cut-out and stepped +hard on the throttle. The speed-craft dipped, then raised and bumped the +<i>Fuor d'Italia</i> beam to beam as she raced by.</p> + +<p>The shock of the collision threw Mascola half from his seat and had a +decidedly sobering effect upon his senses. He had noted his boat tremble +at the impact and crowd away from the stranger; had felt the straining +of her timbers. Now he noticed that his motor was missing badly. A loose +wire probably. He made haste to repair the trouble and switched on his +running lights. The <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> was too light to take chances of +roughing it in the dark. As he worked, he heard a voice hail him.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he demanded angrily. "Damn you, you hit my boat."</p> + +<p>The lights of the returning motor-boat drew alongside before Gregory +answered:</p> + +<p>"Listen, Mascola. If you're looking for trouble, this is the place to +find it. If you're not, you can move out to sea and get as many fish as +we are. We'll not bother you. There's plenty of albacore over here +to-night for everybody. If you try to break through us, it will be up to +you."</p> + +<p>Mascola's anger came in a torrent of Italian words. Then he composed +himself sufficiently to speak in broken English: "This Mr. Bandrist's +island. He<!-- Page 243 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> tell me I fish here. He say you go. You stay, you like +trouble. My men like fight any time."</p> + +<p>"Go to it, then," Gregory answered quietly. "And when you see your +friend Bandrist, tell him for me that he hasn't bought Diablo. He's only +leasing the land. If he has any more claim to the water than we have, +he'll have to show us."</p> + +<p>Mascola completed his repairs, started his motor and raced away in the +direction of his fleet with the <i>Richard</i> running close at his side. But +when he came abreast of the cannery fishing-boats, he made no effort to +head in.</p> + +<p>"He don't want to rough it any more with this one," Bronson commented. +"I reckon when he looks over his boat it'll mean a job for the shop +putting in a few ribs."</p> + +<p>Mascola returned to his fleet, his cheeks burning with rage. In the +first preliminary skirmish with the enemy, he realized he had been +beaten. He had found out nothing of value. Had damaged his boat too, no +doubt. Well, he'd make somebody pay for it before morning. Circling his +boats, he gave orders for an immediate advance in the direction of the +cannery fleet.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory looked after the departing lights of the <i>Fuor +d'Italia</i>.</p> + +<p>"Score one for the invaders of Bandrist's island," he said grimly. +"Mascola didn't learn much on his reconnoitering expedition, except that +we had a better boat than his." Then he turned to Bronson. "Take<!-- Page 244 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> us up +to the other end," he instructed. "I want to tell the boys to keep as +close in as they can so Mascola's boats will have to skirt the reef to +get by."</p> + +<p>When they arrived at the indicated spot and the V broadened according to +orders, the lights of the alien fleet could be discerned moving toward +them.</p> + +<p>"Here they come," announced Dickie Lang. "Looks as if they were going to +try to crowd in from the north side."</p> + +<p>Gregory smiled. "That's just what I want them to do," he answered. "One +of the benefits of reconnoitering is to get an idea of just what you're +going into. If Mascola had taken a good look, he wouldn't have come that +way."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 245 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>BATTLE OF NORTHWEST HARBOR</h3> + + +<p>Convoyed by his fishing fleet, Mascola came steadily on. Cruising to the +seaward of the cannery boats he circled, laid to and critically surveyed +the bobbing lights in the narrow channel which was flanked on both sides +by saw-toothed reefs. The fish were coming from the north and west. +Doubtless the American fisherman already had them well "chummed up" with +their live bait. He would force an entrance among the cannery boats if +they did not give way and take their school. He had done it before. It +was simple enough. Directing his boats to follow, he led them on.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory stood in the bow of the <i>Pelican</i> with a megaphone and +directed the position of the boats which made up his first line of +defense. His plan of keeping Mascola away from his fishing fleet was +nothing more or less than just straight football formation, with an +augmented line to withstand the opposing pressure. The <i>Pelican</i> formed +the center of the wedge. To her right and left followed the heavy +Diesel-motored vessels with the <i>Curlew</i> and <i>Snipe</i> guarding the +extreme ends. Behind the first line came<!-- Page 246 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> the reserve which closely +covered the fishing-boats cruising the center area. Every boat was at +its proper station, awaiting the signal from the <i>Pelican</i>.</p> + +<p>It came with Gregory's word to Howard: "All right, Tom. Let's go."</p> + +<p>He stood at Howard's side as the fisherman whistled for sea-way and +moved his vessel forward with the fleet flanking him astern in V +formation. Mascola's boats gave no heed to the signal save to draw +closer together and slacken speed as they entered the narrow channel.</p> + +<p>Again the cannery boats shrieked a warning and the wedge narrowed with +the waterway until only the bare width of a boat separated the beams of +the defending vessels. Dead ahead, and only a few boat-lengths away, +twinkled the lights of the alien fleet. Gregory grasped the rail of the +engine-house and braced himself for the shock. The next instant the +foremost of Mascola's boats struck the <i>Pelican</i> a glancing blow on the +bow.</p> + +<p>The heavy fishing-boat quivered from stem to stern from the impact. Then +the powerful Diesel engine came into play. The drunken skipper of the +<i>Lura</i> felt his craft being shunted to the side. Before he could gather +his wits together, another American boat brushed his outside rail and +crowded him forcibly against the craft he had endeavored to ram. Caught +between the heavy hulls of the <i>Pelican</i> and <i>Albatross</i>, the <i>Lura</i> +grated, beam to beam, her timbers creaking and twisting from the strain, +her propeller churning<!-- Page 247 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> the water in a vain effort to break through the +tong-like grip of the two boats which disputed her passage.</p> + +<p>The drunken crew of the <i>Lura</i> surged to the rail with wild cries of +rage. The air was filled with flying missiles. Came the sharp snap of +breaking glass and the dull thud of heavy objects hurled from the alien +craft to the deck of the <i>Pelican</i>.</p> + +<p>"Stay under cover," Gregory commanded the crew. "Stand by if they try to +board."</p> + +<p>A flying bit of scrap-iron gashed his forehead and caused the blood to +trickle over his eyes. He wiped it away with his hand and turned to +observe the progress of the other vessels.</p> + +<p>The engagement was now general. Mascola's boats were trying to smash +their way through. But the V was as yet unbroken. That, he could tell by +the solid formation of the boats in reserve. They had not found it +necessary to separate.</p> + +<p>The night was enlivened with the shrill cries of the aliens. Gregory +noticed that there was congestion of lights on his left wing. He +reflected suddenly that that was where the <i>Curlew</i> was stationed. And +Dickie Lang was on the <i>Curlew</i>. Why had the girl persisted in her +determination to take an active part in the conflict? Perhaps she might +be already wounded. Hit by a piece of flying iron or a wine-bottle.</p> + +<p>"How about it?" Howard's voice recalled him to his plan of battle.</p> + +<p>Gregory looked hastily along his front line. "All right," he exclaimed. +"Go to it."<!-- Page 248 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>The <i>Pelican's</i> whistle shrieked two shrill blasts in reply, the signal +for every man at the wheel to go full ahead and put his respective craft +hard over.</p> + +<p>Mascola cursed volubly at the increasing jumble of his boats. They had +already lost their way and were only tending to raise a further barrier +to his entrance to the fleet. If he rammed, he must ram his own boats as +well as those of the enemy. It flashed over his heated brain that the +American had chosen a difficult position for him to break through. The +narrowness of the sea-way prevented him from engaging them in mass +formation. Then he became conscious of another fact as two sharp +whistles sounded above the uproar. His lead boats were being crowded +back against their fellows with a twisting movement which was carrying +them in the direction of the reef. The channel had been too narrow to +break through the solid wall of Diesels. A puff of wind from the +southeast helped Mascola to make up his mind. Directing a summary +withdrawal, he sped away toward the reef to pilot his boats again to +safety from the dangerous shore.</p> + +<p>Gregory directed the pivot movement of the cannery wedge until the last +of the alien fleet had fled from the channel. In the first preliminary +engagement, the enemy had been beaten back. At what cost he must find +out at once. As he turned about to signal the <i>Richard</i>, a voice which +he recognized as Hawkins', came to him from the darkness astern.</p> + +<p>"Bronson's knocked out."<!-- Page 249 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>Leaving Howard to supervise the return of the advance line to their +original positions, Gregory instructed the sailors to launch a dory over +the rail of the <i>Pelican</i> and was rowed away in the direction of the +<i>Richard</i>.</p> + +<p>Hawkins had but little to tell. The <i>Richard</i> had been plying about +according to orders, to report any break in the wedge. As she skirted +the right end close to the <i>Snipe</i>, some one had thrown a bottle from +the nearest enemy craft. It had struck Bronson in the head. The +<i>Richard</i> had drifted backward. Hawkins had thrown out an anchor. That +was all. Gregory examined Bronson while Hawkins was speaking. The man +was not badly injured. But his loss would be a serious one. Without the +speed-boat, Gregory would be greatly handicapped. He set his jaw grimly +in the darkness. He could not afford to tie up the <i>Richard</i>. He would +run her himself. Directing Hawkins to pull the anchor, he slid into +Bronson's seat and focused the rays of his flash-light on the +speed-boat's starting mechanism.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to try to run her?" Hawkins inquired as he tugged at the +hook.</p> + +<p>"I am going to run her. Bronson showed me how. It's taking some chance +of course. But not so much as tying her up. We've got to have the +<i>Richard</i>, Bill. That's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>Gregory started the motor and, proceeding at quarter-speed, set off to +take Bronson to the <i>Curlew</i>. By so doing, he realized, he could +accomplish a dual<!-- Page 250 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> purpose, find out about the safety of Dickie Lang and +leave the boatman in her care. That, he reflected, would give her a +safer though more inactive rôle.</p> + +<p>The girl greeted him from the rail of the <i>Curlew</i>. Not a man had been +scratched aboard her vessel. Her craft had held the pivot and twisted +two of the alien boats until they bumped the reef. A man had been +reported injured on the <i>Falcon</i>.</p> + +<p>Placing Bronson in the dory, Gregory directed the skiff to be pulled +aboard the <i>Curlew</i>. Then he climbed over the rail with Hawkins.</p> + +<p>"Bronson was hurt by a flying bottle," he explained. "Will you look +after him? I've got to round up the boys and see what's doing."</p> + +<p>"You're hurt yourself," Dickie observed as the rays of the cabin lamp +fell upon Gregory's face.</p> + +<p>"Just a scratch," he said quickly. "If you'll look out for Bronson I'll +be off."</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang whirled about. "Look out for this man, Jack. See you later, +Jones. I'm going with Mr. Gregory."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly Gregory consented to allow the girl to accompany him in the +<i>Richard</i>. An instant later they were on their way to round up the +fleet.</p> + +<p>Injuries were few among the crews of the defending vessels. Bruises and +cuts summed up the physical damage done by Mascola's men. One of the +boats was leaking, but Sorenson was holding the water easily with the +pumps. The <i>Falcon's</i> shaft was sprung but the propeller was still +turning. To a man, the various<!-- Page 251 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> captains reported that their men had +obeyed instructions to the letter. No acts of violence had as yet been +committed by any of the American crews. The ex-sailors, though chafing +at their inaction, had assumed the defensive throughout.</p> + +<p>The next thing was to arrange to oppose Mascola's next move.</p> + +<p>"Whatever he does, he's got to do mighty quick," observed Dickie as the +<i>Richard</i> nosed her way among the albacore fishermen. "It's roughing up +in the last five minutes and the glass is falling all the time."</p> + +<p>"There's only one thing he can do, as near as I can figure," Gregory +answered. "And that's to come down the harbor channel and hit us from +the stern. If he does that," he added quickly, "we'll have to be careful +not to block the sea-way leading into the harbor. My idea is to move +farther up. Then if the blow does come, we can go out with the wind and +sea through the north channel."</p> + +<p>"That's our best bet, unless it's a nor'wester," she agreed. "We've got +to keep a way out clear or Mascola will crowd us on the rocks."</p> + +<p>The captains of the fishing-boats reported their craft to be better than +half laden when the <i>Richard</i> arrived alongside. The fish were still +running strong. In another hour, without interference, they might be +loaded. At Gregory's direction the albacore fishermen began cruising +toward the north channel.</p> + +<p>The next thing to do was to marshal the fleet to withstand Mascola's +attack from the rear. Owing to<!-- Page 252 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> the extreme wideness of the waterway, +the Italian's boats would now have a better chance. The V must be +broadened by the boats hitherto held in reserve. They must be brought up +at once. The rising wind and the roughening sea, added to Gregory's +inexperience in handling the speed-boat, rendered the mobilization of +the cannery fleet not only slow, but extremely hazardous as well.</p> + +<p>Before his left end defense was complete, Mascola was bearing down upon +his center.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 253 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>A FIGHTING CHANCE</h3> + + +<p>Mascola's boats advanced warily, spreading out and covering off the +defending fleet as they came. It would be a boat to boat, man to man +fight in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Head-on, the opposing fleets collided with a crash which twisted their +keels and racked their timbers. Lights merged together and became +stationary as hull locked with hull in a grinding embrace. The alien +crews swarmed to the decks and leaped across the rail upon the American +sailors who surged forward to meet them. Fists flashed in the darkness. +Men met hand to hand. The night was filled with wild cries, the +trampling of heavy feet, the thud of contact of wood meeting wood and +flesh meeting flesh. From the center of the struggling mass of men and +boats came a sudden flare of light which dispelled the dark shadows cast +athwart the vessels and brought into bold relief the struggling figures +of the men who battled on the decks.</p> + +<p>"Fire!"</p> + +<p>The cry was taken up by every throat and echoed down the line. It came +to Kenneth Gregory on the<!-- Page 254 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> extreme end of the left wing where he had +been directing the defense of his weakened quarter, by a +counter-flanking movement. A boat afire! And right in the center of his +fleet! When the tank exploded hundreds of gallons of burning distillate +would flood the waters. But he dared not think that far. Whirling the +<i>Richard</i> about, and circling behind his line of boats he dashed away to +face the new peril.</p> + +<p>The crew of the <i>Florence</i> abandoned the attack at the first cry and +surged to the hold to fight the conflagration. A gasoline stove, +carelessly left burning by one of that vessel's drunken crew, had been +overturned by the shock of collision, and had fired the bilge. Fanned by +the rising winds, the flames were licking at the oil-soaked timbers and +spreading rapidly toward the tanks in the bow.</p> + +<p>The alien crew of the <i>Florence</i> fled in a panic of fear. Leaping to the +rail they flung themselves to the deck of a neighboring craft which was +already backing away from the ill-fated vessel. From all sides, friend +and foe alike drew away from the blazing fishing craft. For the time +being the sound of conflict gave place to the rasp of reverse levers, +hoarse cries of warning and the labored chug of heavy-duty motors going +full astern. In the ever-widening cleared space about the ill-fated +derelict the lurid waters were churned into a roseate foam by the +frenzied lashing of the heavy propellers of the fishing craft as their +masters sought to clear the dangerous area.</p> + +<p>As the <i>Richard</i> sped on in the direction of the ever-<!-- Page 255 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>brightening +glare, Gregory's mind kept pace with the rapid pulsing of the high-speed +motor. He must tow the blazing vessel clear of the fleet before the +tanks exploded.</p> + +<p>Dodging among the retreating fishermen he grazed the <i>Curlew's</i> hull and +plunged into the open space. Warning cries sounded above the roar of the +flames but he did not hear them. His plan, formed on the instant, must +be put into execution at once. If it failed, the speed of the <i>Richard</i> +would carry Dickie to a place of safety. It was a fighting chance. That +was all.</p> + +<p>Swinging the <i>Richard</i> about, he drove straight for the <i>Florence</i>.</p> + +<p>"Take the wheel, and stand by," he cried to the girl. "If the tank goes, +run."</p> + +<p>He leaped from his seat as the <i>Richard</i> breasted the blazing hull and +Dickie found herself gripping the big steering wheel before she could +utter a protest. Gregory was already in the stern of the <i>Richard</i>. +Grasping the stern-anchor chain of the speed-launch, he caught the +wire-stays of the <i>Florence</i> and pulled himself aboard, dragging the +chain after him. For an instant he clung to the rail, shielding his face +with his arms. Then he scrambled on deck.</p> + +<p>Holding the <i>Richard's</i> stern close to the <i>Florence's</i> bow, Dickie Lang +saw Gregory running across the deck. Saw his reeling figure silhouetted +against the white glare of the blazing cabin-house. Heard the rattle of +the heavy anchor chain of the alien fishing-<!-- Page 256 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>boat. Keeping the <i>Richard</i> +in place with an effort against the wind and chop, she waited. He +expected her to stand by.</p> + +<p>His hair singed by the heat, with blistering face and burning lungs, +Gregory dropped by the snubbing-post in the bow and tugged at the heavy +chain and knotted it about the block. Then he made the free end fast to +the chain of the <i>Richard</i>. Running to the rail he threw his body over +and hung by his hands, searching the air with his feet. Then he felt the +deck of the <i>Richard</i> beneath him.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang had stood by.</p> + +<p>The next instant he was again at the wheel and the <i>Richard</i> lunged +forward.</p> + +<p>"Steady," cautioned the girl. "Don't take the slack so fast. Hard a +port. Now kick your stern over. That's the stuff. Pay out. Now you've +got her."</p> + +<p>For an instant the <i>Richard</i> quivered with anger to find herself in +leash by the fiery incubus at her stern. Then she settled doggedly to +work and the two vessels began to gather way. To the right and left the +fishing-boats scattered before them. The tanks of the blazing tow might +explode at any minute. It was best to be in the clear. In the common +fear of the new danger the contending factions drew apart, friend and +foe uniting in the universal effort to gain a place of safety. The wind +caught the blaze and fanned it upward in a solid sheet of flame which +blistered the varnish of the <i>Richard's</i> stern-deck.<!-- Page 257 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get down," Gregory shouted above the roar of the speed-boat's exhaust.</p> + +<p>Dickie started to protest when she felt herself jerked roughly from the +seat.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing you can do now. Lie still. Keep your head covered." The +tone was gruff, the words commanding, spoken by a man. A man who thought +of the safety of others and placed it before his own. A man who was not +afraid to take chances. Dickie's heart glowed with pride as she huddled +in the <i>Richard's</i> cockpit. It was worth while to know a man like that.</p> + +<p>Mascola watched the progress of the burning <i>Florence</i> from the deck of +the <i>Lura</i>. His blood-shot eyes gleamed red in the glow from the burning +vessel and the lust of destruction surged into his heart. He was losing +one of his best boats. Somebody must pay.</p> + +<p>In the light of the fire he saw the vessels of the defense scattered. +Now would be his chance to crowd through to the fishing fleet. With the +wind and sea at his back he would pile them up on the rocks. Jumping to +the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> he sped away to direct the attack upon the heavily +laden fishing-boats.</p> + +<p>Clear the fishing fleet and shunt the <i>Florence</i> to the rocks with the +wind and current. For the space of a few seconds it was Gregory's only +thought. The rising wind at his back was hot with the fevered breath of +the burning tow. What did it matter if the heat was scorching his neck? +Only a few boats<!-- Page 258 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> remained ahead. Then he would be in the clear. If the +tanks of the <i>Florence</i> exploded he must crawl to the stern and cut the +tow-line. The crested waves began to slap angrily at the speed-boat's +hull. Then the <i>Richard's</i> motor began to miss.</p> + +<p>"She's all right. Keep down. I can——"</p> + +<p>A muffled roar interrupted his words. The hull of the <i>Florence</i> bulged. +A jet of flame mounted upward from the deck. The engine-house tottered +and collapsed in a shower of glowing sparks which filled the air and +rained down into the <i>Richard's</i> cockpit. A stream of burning oil surged +up from the hull of the derelict and tumbled into the sea, blazing +fiercely on the crest of the waves.</p> + +<p>"Take the boat."</p> + +<p>Before the girl could gain the wheel Gregory was fighting his way to the +stern. As Dickie's fingers closed on the steering-wheel he was slashing +at the rope spliced to the chain. With blistered hands and burning lungs +he hacked at the tough strands of hemp with his pocket-knife. The +threads of the line snapped and crinkled from the heat. The water about +the speed-craft's stern was on fire. Tottering drunkenly, he bent low +and held his breath. The rope was more than half severed. The threads +were already parting from the strain. Then the knife slipped from his +blistered fingers and fell into the water.</p> + +<p>Mascola witnessed the explosion of the <i>Florence's</i> first oil tank with +a grim smile. The vessel was already clear of the fleet. She could do no +damage<!-- Page 259 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> now save to the <i>Richard</i> and her crew. With his eyes fixed on +the fire, Mascola prayed to his saints that the second and larger tank +might explode before Gregory could sever the tow-line. Fascinated by the +sight, he moved farther to windward and watched.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory's bleeding fingers tore at the straining fiber of the +quivering line which bound the <i>Richard</i> to destruction. One by one the +threads snapped and curled in the heat radiated from the burning vessel.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang huddled in the driver's seat and jerked the hull of the +speed-craft frantically against the strain of the tow-line. For an +instant death held them by a single strand. Then the line parted and the +<i>Richard</i> leaped to safety. The cool rush of air revived Gregory's +senses and he found himself leaning weakly against the coaming of the +speed-boat. Then he heard the girl calling from the wheel.</p> + +<p>"Mascola's broken through."</p> + +<p>He gulped in the moist sea air and groped his way forward. Far astern +the wreck burned fiercely, bringing into bold relief the frowning peaks +which fringed the shore-line of El Diablo. As he caught at the rail for +support he saw the flames leap skyward, blackened by smoke and bits of +timber. The waves burned brightly about the settling hull. Then came the +sound of the explosion of the <i>Florence's</i> second tank.</p> + +<p>"Mascola's broken through. Can't you hear me? Are you hurt?"<!-- Page 260 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory staggered to the seat and dropped beside the girl.</p> + +<p>"I'll be all right in a minute," he said. "Keep going. I can't see very +well yet. You say he got through?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's trying to crowd the fishing fleet to the rocks. Look!"</p> + +<p>In the light that the burning vessel astern cast upon the waters ahead, +Gregory saw a confused jumble of boats crowded close against the +saw-toothed reef.</p> + +<p>"Damn him!" he grated. "We'll beat him yet. Slow down. Give me the +wheel."</p> + +<p>Dickie relinquished the steering-wheel with reluctance.</p> + +<p>"We ought to be putting to sea," she observed as a sudden gust of wind +and rain assailed them. "This is a bad place to be caught napping."</p> + +<p>Gregory's eyes glowed with the lust of battle. "No," he gritted. "We're +going to stay and fight. Mascola's not going to win on a fluke if it +costs me every boat I have."</p> + +<p>In a frenzy of activity he threw the <i>Richard</i> wide open and sped away +to gather his scattered boats for a flank attack upon the alien fleet.</p> + +<p>Mascola was in high good humor. His boats were crowding the fishermen +backward in the direction of the reef. Forced to the rocks they would +have no chance in the face of the approaching storm. What was the loss +of the <i>Florence</i> in comparison to the destruction of a dozen or more +fully equipped fishing<!-- Page 261 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> vessels, laden to the water-line with their +valuable cargoes?</p> + +<p>Repairing to the cabin of the <i>Lura</i>, the Italian refreshed himself with +a drink. A shout from without brought him hurrying to the deck. Bearing +down upon him at full speed came the cannery fleet. His vessels were +broadside. They would strike him full on the beam. Cut his boats in two. +Mascola shrieked out an order to put about and face the enemy. His +captains sprang to their respective wheels and battled desperately among +themselves for steerage way.</p> + +<p>Then came the crash.</p> + +<p>Skirting the mass of snapping grinding hulls, Gregory shot through with +the <i>Richard</i> and came among the fishing-boats. Some were already +grazing the reef. A line from the speed-craft pulled them again to +safety and launched them around Mascola's rear. Fighting their way +through the press of the alien craft they circled and renewed the attack +from the opposite flank. Mascola's fleet was caught broadside between +the Americans.</p> + +<p>The din of the battle mingled with the roar of the wind. Again men met +over the rail. Knives flashed in the sullen glare from the burning +<i>Florence</i>. Pistol shots echoed above the tumult and the air was filled +with flying splinters.</p> + +<p>Slowly and inexorably Mascola's fleet was ground back. An alien craft, +reaching the clear space to the rear of the battle line, turned hastily +about and fled<!-- Page 262 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> down the narrow channel leading to the sea. Another +followed. Still another.</p> + +<p>Mascola strove vainly with shouts and curses to stem the tide of his +retreating vessels, but the boats brushed by him and continued on their +way. Soon the exodus became a rout with hull scraping hull in the effort +of the alien boats to gain sea-way in the channel.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the last of Mascola's fleet, leaking badly and settling +low in the water, lumbered by with rapidly pulsing motor in the +direction of Northwest Harbor.</p> + +<p>"We beat him at his own game." Kenneth Gregory repeated the words again +and again. Blood flowed from a jagged cut in his cheek. His face and +hands were raw and blistered, but his eyes were shining with the light +of victory.</p> + +<p>In the shadow of the <i>Pelican</i> his arms closed about Dickie Lang and he +drew her to him. "We beat him," he cried. "You, and the boys, and I."</p> + +<p>The girl struggled for a moment, then lay passive in his arms. He was +delirious from the fire and the battle. He did not know what he was +doing. Freeing herself with an effort from his clinging arms she drew +away.</p> + +<p>"We must put to sea," she cried. "Before the storm breaks."</p> + +<p>Gregory roused at her words and turned quickly away.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "You're right. I forgot."</p> + +<p>Within a few minutes the cannery fleet was head<!-- Page 263 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>ing down the main harbor +channel in the direction of the open sea.</p> + +<p>Then the storm broke. Battling desperately into the teeth of the gale, +the fishing-boats plunged head-on into the curling waves. Lashing the +sea into white-caps, the wind picked up the water and hurled it to the +decks in great clouds of choking, blinding spray.</p> + +<p>In a last dying flare the flames leaped upward from the charred hull of +the <i>Florence</i> as she lay pillowed on the rocks. And in the feeble glow, +only Hawkins, who was looking astern, saw the shadowy outline of a long +gray boat nosing her way about the island.</p> + +<p>The <i>Gray Ghost</i> was running before the storm.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 264 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>THE BANKER AT THE HELM</h3> + + +<p>Foot by foot down the storm-lashed, wind-swept channel the victorious +cannery fleet doggedly fought its way from the Diablo coast and headed +to sea.</p> + +<p>"We've got to lay in at San Anselmo," Dickie Lang shouted to Gregory as +she guided the <i>Richard</i> skilfully through the buffeting waves. "Some of +the boats are pretty badly stove up. They're riding too low to try to +make the mainland. We'd have to buck the storm all the way over. Best +run before it as long as we can. Then we can gain the lea of the other +island and head in at Cavalan and leave some of the boats there. May +have to run a few of them on the beach. We ought to make the little +harbor on the south shore of San Anselmo in a couple of hours."</p> + +<p>Gregory agreed with some reluctance. When it came to seamanship he was +perfectly willing to leave the management of his craft to Dickie Lang. +The girl was familiar with the coast of the two islands and had fully +demonstrated her ability to handle the <i>Richard</i> in a storm. Still the +idea of running from Diablo rankled in his heart. It looked like +quitting.<!-- Page 265 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl's next words, however, made him feel a little better.</p> + +<p>"There would be no use lying in at Northwest Harbor at Diablo," she was +saying. "The anchorage is too small and Mascola's boats will overcrowd +it. If you tried to beach anything there, you'd wreck it. At Cavalan we +can check things up, transfer the fish if we have to and get them right +out. We've beaten Mascola, hands down, so why should we care?"</p> + +<p>It was well toward morning before the last of the cannery fleet +staggered into the little harbor of Cavalan. Then came the first +opportunity to reckon the cost of Mascola's defeat at Diablo.</p> + +<p>Gregory's first thought was for the personnel of his fleet. In the fight +with the alien fishermen several of his men had been injured, but as +near as could be ascertained, none fatally. A number of men had been +slashed by knives, but the injuries for the most part were only flesh +wounds. There were many aching heads and bruised bodies. Two sailors and +a fisherman had been grazed by bullets. One man's arm had been broken.</p> + +<p>To a man the various crews made light of their injuries and proudly +maintained that they had left their mark on many a dark-skinned member +of Mascola's aliens.</p> + +<p>Bronson had partly recovered and was anxiously inquiring concerning the +behavior of the speed-craft in the storm.</p> + +<p>While Gregory directed the transferring of the<!-- Page 266 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> injured men to the +better equipped launches, Dickie checked up the material damage +inflicted upon the tonnage.</p> + +<p>On the <i>Curlew</i> Gregory encountered Hawkins. The newspaper man was +jubilant. The victory over the aliens was just what he needed. He had +anticipated the outcome and had already sent out a full account of the +struggle with the aliens over the radio. The people of Port Angeles +would be reading it in a couple of hours.</p> + +<p>As Hawkins assisted Gregory in caring for the needs of the men, the +reporter hinted that he was on the trail of a bigger story which would +make all his former journalistic efforts pale into insignificance. But +when questioned concerning the specific nature of his scoop, Hawkins +became extremely reticent.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang's report upon the condition of the fishing-boats added +materially to the cost of the victory. Four of the craft had been jammed +in the mêlée and were leaking badly. How they ever made port at all was +a thing she could not understand. Three of the other vessels had +sustained bent shafts and broken propeller blades. All the fleet were +more or less battle-scarred but their defects could be remedied in the +water. She had set the men to work already. There was a machine shop at +Anacapa on the opposite side of the island and a marine railway large +enough to take on the disabled craft. When the blow subsided, they could +put in there for temporary repairs.</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes glowed with happiness as she<!-- Page 267 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> totaled the catch of the +fishermen. Every boat was laden almost to its full capacity. With a +storm coming on and in the face of a probable shortage of fish, the +success of the night's work would reach a substantial figure.</p> + +<p>"It's worth more than you know," put in Hawkins. "Wait until my yarn +gets into print and I'll show you." He smiled broadly and put out his +hand. "Then I want my rake-off, Cap. Gregory," he concluded.</p> + +<p>"I won't forget you, Bill," Gregory was quick to answer. "Nor any one +else. I knew the boys would stand by to a finish. They sure came across +to-night."</p> + +<p>He turned quickly to Dickie Lang. "When can we start out with the fish?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Figuring to go at daybreak," the girl answered. "Better send Jack a +message right away so he can be ready for them. They'll have to buck the +blow so it will be afternoon by the time they get over."</p> + +<p>She looked out across the faintly graying waters where brightening +lights began to appear from the shadowy hulls of the fishing-boats. Then +she inhaled the air hungrily.</p> + +<p>"Look," she exclaimed. "The boys are getting breakfast. Let's go over to +the <i>Snipe</i> and tie in with them. They've got a man there from the +regular navy who can surely cook."</p> + +<p>Gregory and Hawkins welcomed the suggestion and a moment later they were +speeding away to answer to the first call for breakfast.</p> + +<p>In the lea of San Anselmo, sheltered from the storm<!-- Page 268 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> in the land-locked +little harbor of Cavalan, the American fleet rested from its labors. The +sailors gathered on the decks and greeted the new day over plates piled +high with crisp slices of bacon and fried eggs. The night had been long, +fraught with danger and fatiguing toil; but work and worry had endured +only for the night and joy came with the morning.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Silvanus Rock was nervous and ill-tempered. Consuming his third cup of +strong black coffee, he rose from the breakfast table and walked to the +French windows and glared out at the curling waves as they flung +themselves upon the beach.</p> + +<p>His devoted spouse gazed after him with a sigh. "Something is preying on +father's mind," she whispered to De Lancy, the only son and heir to the +Rock fortune. "He didn't sleep a wink last night."</p> + +<p>De Lancy scowled. "That doesn't give him any license to take it out on +me," he growled, as he pushed back his chair and lit a cigarette. "When +I tried to interest him in that new racing car, he landed on me all in a +heap and——"</p> + +<p>His words were interrupted by the entrance of the maid.</p> + +<p>"Some one to see Mr. Rock," she announced.</p> + +<p>Rock whirled and hurried toward her. Then he caught a glimpse of the +roughly garbed man who was standing by the desk in his den. Peters had +arrived at last. The anxious lines deepened on Silvanus Rock's forehead +and he made haste to join his visitor.<!-- Page 269 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Rock pursed her lips as she noticed the stranger. "I can not +understand why your father persists in having such disreputable-looking +men visit him in his home," she confided to her son.</p> + +<p>De Lancy sluffed the cigarette ashes into his coffee cup, before +replying. "Well, whoever the 'low-brow' is, here's hoping he'll put the +old man in a better humor."</p> + +<p>In his wish De Lancy was not disappointed. For a short time the visitor +remained closeted with Rock in the capitalist's den. Then Rock escorted +his guest to the door and De Lancy noticed that the old man had opened +up some of his best cigars. It was a good sign.</p> + +<p>Silvanus Rock entered the sun-room, all smiles.</p> + +<p>"I believe I'll try some of those waffles, mother, if they are still +handy," he exclaimed. "My headache's passed off and I'm feeling quite +myself again." He beamed on his son. "And now, De Lancy, you were +telling me about that new car. It seems to me like a pretty stiff price +but I guess you might as well go ahead and order it."</p> + +<p>When the bank president reached his office some time later after a visit +to the Golden Rule Fish Cannery, he greeted his employees with effusive +good-humor. Leaving orders that he was not to be disturbed by any one +except Mr. Peters, he passed into his private office, dropped heavily +into a chair and began to figure. His pudgy fingers trembled about the +pen as he scratched on the pad before him. Then he tore the paper +containing his calculations into little<!-- Page 270 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> bits, tossed them into the +waste-basket and smiled benignly. His latest business venture had +succeeded far beyond his fondest expectations.</p> + +<p>A tap came on his door and Mr. Peters again made his appearance.</p> + +<p>Rock surveyed him anxiously. "No mistake I hope, Peters, in the good +news," he quavered. "Everything's all right I trust."</p> + +<p>Peters nodded and drew up a chair close to Rock's side. "This one's +about the fishing-boats," he said in a low voice. "They got into a scrap +with the American boats off Northwest Harbor. Bandrist says that +Gregory's fleet won out. Mascola's lay in at the harbor. The <i>Florence</i> +burned up and a lot of his other boats are pretty well shot. He couldn't +stop the other fellows at all and they loaded up."</p> + +<p>Rock frowned at the news.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," he ejaculated. "That is bad. Though not of course as bad +as it might be. No answer to that one, Peters."</p> + +<p>A few moments later when the financier was again alone in his office, +the cashier entered. "The credit man from the Canners' Supply Company is +here," he announced. "He's asking for information about the Legonia Fish +Cannery. Thought I'd better refer him to you."</p> + +<p>Rock's thick lips closed grimly. "Show him in," he ordered, and bit +savagely at his cigar.</p> + +<p>Mr. Booker made his appearance at once. "We have a little account with +the Legonia Fish Cannery,"<!-- Page 271 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> he began. "As it is some time past due we +were beginning to get a little anxious. A word from you will put us +straight."</p> + +<p>"What's the amount of your claim?"</p> + +<p>"Twelve hundred and thirty-five dollars."</p> + +<p>The hopeful expression which had leaped to Rock's face gave place to one +of gloom. Then he asked:</p> + +<p>"What is the nature of your claim?"</p> + +<p>"Machinery and the labor of installing," supplied Booker.</p> + +<p>A gleam of hope entered Rock's beady eyes. "Between you and me, Mr. +Booker," he said. "The Legonia Fish Cannery is pretty much involved at +the present time. Their organization is one which might cause you some +difficulty in securing the amount of your claim. If you care to assign +it to me for collection I think I can handle the matter satisfactorily."</p> + +<p>Booker did not notice the suppressed eagerness of the bank president's +tone. He was new at the job, replacing the regular credit man who was +away on his vacation. Perhaps it would be well to accept Mr. Rock's +offer.</p> + +<p>"What fee would you charge for your services?" he inquired warily.</p> + +<p>Rock spread out his fat hands with a depreciatory gesture.</p> + +<p>"Just between friends, Mr. Booker," he said warmly. "Your firm is too +well-known by me to make even a nominal charge for so trifling a favor. +Whatever I am able to do for you in this regard, is yours for<!-- Page 272 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> the +asking." Seeing that the credit man was wavering, Rock continued: "I am +so sure that I can adjust the claim satisfactorily that if you desire I +will give you my own personal check for the amount right away. Then you +can forget the entire matter. Mr. Gregory is a personal friend of mine +and though, as I say, his affairs are somewhat involved, I know that he +will attend to the matter at once if approached in the right way."</p> + +<p>Booker hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I'd better call on Mr. Gregory first," he said.</p> + +<p>"That will be a hard matter," Rock interrupted. "Unless you care to go +to the expense of making a trip to Diablo Island. Mr. Gregory left +yesterday for a protracted stay in the deep-sea fishing grounds."</p> + +<p>Booker considered. His firm was very desirous of having him return with +the cash which was sore needed at the present time. Collecting the claim +would be quite a feather in his cap. Rock's statements concerning the +Fish Cannery, he noticed, were somewhat contradictory. But that was up +to Rock. An account like this, the chances were, would not be worth much +anyway. He could explain the whole matter to Dunham when he got back.</p> + +<p>"All right, Mr. Rock," he said at length. "If you want to buy the claim +outright, you can have it. I won't assign."</p> + +<p>Rock reached for his check-book. A few moments later saw the deal +closed. When Booker had left,<!-- Page 273 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> Rock turned to the telephone. When he was +in communication with the local judge, he said:</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see you as soon as possible, Tom.—Yes, it's +important.—All right. I'll be right down."</p> + + + +<p class="break">Somewhat in advance of Silvanus Rock's breakfast hour, Mr. Dupont +entered the White Front Restaurant at Port Angeles and made his way +toward his accustomed table in the sunlit alcove. His favorite waitress +pulled out his chair and handed him his morning paper with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I have a special for you this morning," she announced, "which will make +your mouth water."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dupont smacked his lips with boyish enthusiasm. "What is it?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Corn-fed mackerel from the new Service Market which opened yesterday."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dupont raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and the girl explained:</p> + +<p>"A lot of service men have started a fish stall in a corner of the old +California Market around the block from here. They just put in a few +yesterday but from the way they sold out, I'd say they'd need the whole +building before long. Our manager got around just in time to pick up the +last of yesterday's catch. I saved one of them for you."</p> + +<p>While the girl attended to his order, the resident manager of Winfield & +Camby turned his attention to his paper. When the waitress returned with +the<!-- Page 274 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> crisply browned fish, she was obliged to speak twice before she was +able to gain Mr. Dupont's attention.</p> + +<p>Hovering about his chair, she watched her patron nibble at the +carefully-prepared delicacy with his eyes fixed intently upon his +newspaper. The dimples disappeared quickly from the girl's face as she +noted that the mackerel were growing cold. Then she turned from the +table with a sigh. Men did not care what they ate as long as they had +their paper.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dupont finished his perusal of the news and shoved back his chair, +leaving the special scarcely tasted.</p> + +<p>"That was fine," he ejaculated. "Wish I had time to finish it. But I +have a number of things to 'tend to before going to the office. By the +way, where did you say that new market was located?"</p> + +<p>He rose as he spoke and as the waitress again gave him the location of +the building he sought, he pressed a substantial tip into her hand and +hurried to the street. At the entrance to the California Market, he +mingled with the throng and elbowed his way through the crowd which +packed a corner of the big building. Then he adjusted his nose-glasses +and peered over their heads.</p> + +<p>Behind a rudely constructed counter of rough boards three smiling young +men were endeavoring to satisfy the demands made upon them for the +rapidly disappearing contents of a number of fish-boxes behind the +counter. All about them were hastily scrawled signs which the public +read with interest.<!-- Page 275 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot">WE HAVE DECLARED WAR ON THE HIGH COST OF LIVING.—FRESH +FISH AT FIFTY PER CENT. OFF.—WE ARE DEALING DIRECT WITH +THE PEOPLE.—SHOOT SQUARE WITH US AND WE WILL SHOOT +SQUARE WITH YOU.</div> + +<p>While Mr. Dupont read, another sign made its appearance.</p> + +<p class="center">"SOLD OUT. COME AGAIN."</p> + +<p>Winfield & Camby's office force were surprised to find the manager on +the job when they reached the salesrooms.</p> + +<p>"Send me Mr. Black."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dupont's orders were crisp and the publicity man hurried to obey his +bidding.</p> + +<p>"Bring me those clippings on that Legonia Fish Cannery stuff, Black. +Also the ads in to-day's papers. Have you read that story of the mix-up +between the Americans and the alien fishermen at Diablo Island?"</p> + +<p>Black admitted he had not.</p> + +<p>"Get <i>The Times</i> and read it," snapped the manager. "Come alive, Black, +and as soon as Dalton comes in, tell him I want to see him right away."</p> + + + +<p class="break">It was high noon at Cavalan when the <i>Pelican</i> reentered the harbor +after cruising in the open sea to pick up any words that might come from +McCoy over<!-- Page 276 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> the radio. Gregory watched the progress of the <i>Pelican</i> +from the deck of the Albatross.</p> + +<p>"Looks as if they'd picked up something at last," he observed. "Hope +it's from the fleet, saying they arrived at the cannery all right."</p> + +<p>"They've hardly had time to make it yet," objected Dickie Lang. "I +wouldn't expect to hear from them at Legonia for at least two hours."</p> + +<p>The wireless operator appeared on deck as the <i>Pelican</i> drew abreast of +the <i>Albatross</i>. "Message for Mr. Gregory," he shouted.</p> + +<p>Gregory took the paper and glanced eagerly at the message. It was from +McCoy and it read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot">Rock here with attachment papers to tie us up pending +payment of claim bought by him from Canners' Supply +Company. We have until four o'clock to answer. Wire what +to do.</div> + +<p>Gregory glanced at his watch as he handed the message to Dickie Lang. +Jumping to the deck of the <i>Pelican</i> he found Tom Howard.</p> + +<p>"Tom," he said, "I want you to put to sea at once. Travel a straight +course for Legonia and keep the radio going all the time. We'll be +alongside in the <i>Richard</i>. Give us the answer you get over the radio by +megaphone. Perhaps then it won't be necessary for us to go all the way +over. But if it should be, we've got to get there before four o'clock."</p> + +<p>Turning to the radio man, he dictated a message to Farnsworth setting +forth the situation and instructing<!-- Page 277 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> the attorney to take whatever steps +were advisable to stay the attachment. The message was to be forwarded +to Farnsworth from the cannery. It would give the lawyer time to act if +he got busy at once.</p> + +<p>Returning to the <i>Albatross</i>, Gregory went over his plans with Dickie +Lang.</p> + +<p>"I'm going, too," the girl announced. "You are all in. It will be no fun +driving the <i>Richard</i> to-day. If you do have to go across, you haven't +much chance of making it on time in weather like this. Especially if we +have to lag along with the <i>Pelican</i>."</p> + +<p>"I know it," Gregory answered. "But I'm not figuring we'll have to go +very far. But if we do have to go all the way we've got to be at Legonia +before four o'clock. We've beaten Mascola but we'll lose all we've +gained if we don't beat Rock."</p> + +<p>Hawkins sensed that something important was taking place and straightway +determined to accompany the party. A few minutes later the <i>Richard</i> and +the <i>Pelican</i> rounded the tip of San Anselmo and headed into the storm. +Then Hawkins' professional curiosity got the better of him.</p> + +<p>"What's the big idea?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Gregory explained, concluding optimistically: "I'm not worrying much. +Farnsworth can fix things up all right. Then we'll go back to Cavalan."</p> + +<p>"If he doesn't you can put up a bond for double the amount of the +claim," Hawkins advised. "That will stay the attachment until you can +raise the cash.<!-- Page 278 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> You'd have to get it in person though—and before four +o'clock."</p> + +<p>He looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to go some to do that," he said. "If you could cut <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'lose'">loose</ins> +from the <i>Pelican</i> it would be a cinch, but of course you've got to wait +until you get an answer to your message."</p> + +<p>For some time the two boats fought their way through the rising waves. +Then the fishing-boat signaled the <i>Richard</i> to draw closer. Gregory +listened intently for the words of the man with the megaphone as he +appeared on the <i>Pelican's</i> deck. The operator's message came faintly to +them above the roar of the wind.</p> + +<div class="blockquot">Mr. Farnsworth left his office at noon to-day on motor +trip to country. Not expected to return until Monday. +Little hope of reaching him to-night but will keep +trying.</div> + +<p class="quotsig">McCoy.</p> + +<p>Hawkins swore softly at the intelligence. It was one-thirty already. Not +much chance of reaching Legonia in time to accomplish much to-day.</p> + +<p>"Tell McCoy I'll be at the cannery before four o'clock."</p> + +<p>Dickie flashed a glance at the clock on the <i>Richard's</i> dash at +Gregory's words. Every minute was going to count. It was up to the +speed-boat to show what she could do. Opening the cut-out, the girl +began to get the speed-craft under way. With a roar<!-- Page 279 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> which drowned out +the wind, the <i>Richard</i> mounted to the white-capped swells and raced for +the mainland. There was only one chance in a hundred of making it on +time. She set her lips grimly and gripped the wheel. If it was only one +in a thousand, <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'she's'">she'd</ins> take it—for Kenneth Gregory.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 280 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE VALUE OF PUBLICITY</h3> + + +<p>"What time is it?"</p> + +<p>Gregory huddled to the floor of the cockpit and drew out his watch. +"Two-thirty," he shouted above the frenzied snapping of the open +exhaust.</p> + +<p>Dickie hurled the <i>Richard</i> into a mounting wall of green water which +tottered above them. Then she cried through set lips: "Just about +half-way. We're over the worst of it though. The nearer we get to shore +the better time we'll make. We're sure going to need it too."</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded absent-mindedly. His mind was filled with the problem of +what he was going to do if he did arrive at Legonia on time. Dickie had +made a wonderful run thus far, had handled the <i>Richard</i> masterfully +against wind and wave, had more than done her part. Soon her work would +be done. Then his would begin. And what was he going to do?</p> + +<p>The sum to be raised would have once seemed trifling. What would twelve +hundred dollars have amounted to three months ago? Now, it looked like a +million. There was no chance of raising it to-day. He must secure a +bond.<!-- Page 281 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rock had played his hand well. The bank president had hit in some way +upon a plan of injuring him while he was away. And Rock could injure +him. A tie-up at such a time would rob him of all he had gained by +beating Mascola at El Diablo. The fishing fleet were loaded to the +gunwales with albacore. The fish must be worked up at once. A loss of +even twenty-four hours would render them worthless.</p> + +<p>Gregory reflected bitterly that he had other creditors. Had Rock +obtained other due and unpaid accounts? Even if such were not the case, +the shutting down of his plant might be the signal for other wholesalers +to launch a similar attack upon his credit. He realized sharply that he +was accomplishing nothing. Merely thinking in circles. Hawkins had +suggested putting up a bond. The newspaperman was doubtless familiar +with the procedure. Perhaps it could be effected if they arrived early +enough to arrange the matter. He turned to his friend for enlightenment.</p> + +<p>"How long would it take for me to get a bond?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Hawkins' usually cheery countenance clouded, as he replied:</p> + +<p>"Not long, if you could find a surety company agent in his office. But +the trouble is this is Saturday. I didn't think of it until you got that +wire from your attorney. It's a legal holiday for the courts and it's +hard to find anybody around you want." Hawkins' frown grew blacker as he +continued: "Then there's another thing. You've got to have the judge +approve<!-- Page 282 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> the bond, granting you're lucky enough to get it. And looking +for a judge on Saturday afternoon is like looking for the proverbial +needle."</p> + +<p>Hawkins placed a hand wearily over his eyes and lapsed into silence.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Jack McCoy was at his wit's end. The fishing fleet from Diablo had just +arrived, loaded with albacore. The captains reported a rough trip all +the way over. They had seen or heard nothing from Gregory since leaving +Cavalan. McCoy paced up and down the dock while he superintended the +unloading of the fish. What a haul they had made! But what good would it +do them? The whole plant would be tied up in less than an hour.</p> + +<p>He jerked out his watch and looked at it again. It was seven minutes +after three. Walking to the bay-side, he shaded his eyes with his hand +and gazed anxiously in the direction of the inlet. Granting that Gregory +arrived within the next half-hour, what could he possibly accomplish in +so short a time? All McCoy's efforts to confer with Rock had been +fruitless. The bank president could not be located and had left but one +word.</p> + +<p>He would be at the cannery at four o'clock.</p> + + + +<p class="break">The low-lying clouds which hung about the entrance to Crescent Bay +rifted sullenly and exposed the ragged line of rocks which made up the +jetty.</p> + +<p>"Right on the dot," Dickie Lang exclaimed. "I<!-- Page 283 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> was afraid maybe I was +too far down. What time is it now?"</p> + +<p>"Three-thirty," Gregory answered. "We ought to dock in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"We'll be there in five unless I run into something going down the +harbor."</p> + +<p>"Stop at the municipal dock first," Gregory instructed her. "I'm going +to run ashore and try to get a bond. Then we'll go on to the cannery."</p> + +<p>Hawkins roused himself from his lethargy as they sped down the bay.</p> + +<p>"I can help you some," he announced. "I can go on your bond. I own at +least three times the amount of the claim in real estate in this county. +That will save us some time. We can get a blank form from a notary and +have him fill it out. Then all we've got to do is to find the judge."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't Rock have to put up a bond, too?" Gregory asked. "He's trying +his best to damage me. Haven't I any come-back?"</p> + +<p>"Don't bank on Rock's bond," Hawkins answered. "He has to put one up, +but it's pretty liable to be 'straw.' Fellows like him generally have a +strangle-hold on a little place like this and they are pretty sure of +their ground before they shoot. The chances are Rock's in the clear with +a 'dummy' or else his property is all under cover. I'm going to make it +my business to look the old fellow up and see how he's fixed. Men like +him don't do anything without a motive. I'm going to try to find out +what Rock is up to."<!-- Page 284 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the municipal docks Gregory and Hawkins debarked hastily and ran down +the main street of the town. Contrary to the newspaperman's fears they +were successful in finding a young notary in his office. Stimulated by +the promise of an extra fee, the man made out the papers in record time.</p> + +<p>"Where can we find the local judge?" Gregory asked quickly.</p> + +<p>The notary shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Hard telling," he answered. "He went out a while ago with Mr. Rock and +one of the real estate men in this office to look at a piece of +property. Haven't seen Joe back since so I suppose they're still out."</p> + +<p>When Gregory arrived at the cannery it lacked ten minutes of being four +o'clock. Hurrying to the office the party from the <i>Richard</i> encountered +McCoy talking with a well-dressed stranger.</p> + +<p>"Here's Mr. Gregory now," exclaimed the house-manager running over to +meet his employer. "What luck?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>A glance at Gregory's face, however, was all McCoy needed to answer his +question. The boss had failed to stay the attachment. The plant would be +shut down and all the fish from Diablo would rot on the docks.</p> + +<p>The visitor stepped forward with a smile and introduced himself. "I'm +Mr. Dalton, of Winfield & Camby," he said pleasantly. "I kind of stole a +march on you people to-day. Came down to inspect at the<!-- Page 285 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> firm's request +and found you all so busy that I just sneaked into your warehouse and +went to work without saying anything to anybody." He smiled, as he +added: "We kind of like to do that. With a new firm especially. It +prevents them 'stacking' on us."</p> + +<p>"Have you finished your inspection?"</p> + +<p>Gregory put the question with suppressed eagerness.</p> + +<p>Dalton nodded. "Yes," he answered. "I'm well enough satisfied. Your +stuff is fully up to par. Perhaps a little better than some standards. +If you are willing to hold to your schedule of prices which you gave Mr. +Dupont I'm ready to tie up with you right now."</p> + +<p>A gleam of hope flashed to Gregory's eye.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it customary to make a part payment when the contract is signed?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>Dalton smiled and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Ten dollars is enough," he answered.</p> + +<p>Gregory's eyes were fixed earnestly on the representative from Winfield +& Camby.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Mr. Dalton," he said. "I've got to have twelve hundred and +thirty-five dollars by four o'clock or I'll lose thousands. I've got +fifteen boats outside loaded to the water-line with albacore besides all +the canned stuff on the floor. I own the building, machinery and +twenty-five fishing-boats. There's not a dollar against any part of it. +I guess you've looked me up already and you know I'm telling the truth. +If you give me an advance of twelve hundred and thirty-five<!-- Page 286 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> dollars +I'll close right now and pay you any interest you want. But I've got to +have the money right now."</p> + +<p>Dalton jerked out his watch.</p> + +<p>"Hardly time," he answered. "Even if Dupont would O.K. it, which I +doubt."</p> + +<p>Gregory was already at the telephone.</p> + +<p>"I'll get him for you. Can you let me have the money if he says it's all +right?"</p> + +<p>As Dalton nodded in affirmation, Gregory's eye fell upon the open watch +upon the desk. It lacked five minutes of four o'clock.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Mr. Dupont was seated in his private office puffing contentedly at a +long panatella when the door opened and the publicity man entered.</p> + +<p>"What's new, Black? Anything?"</p> + +<p>Black smiled and dropped into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Nothing new," he said. "It's getting to be an old story. Every evening +paper in the city copied that fellow Hawkins' yarn in <i>The Times</i> about +the sea fight at Diablo Island. Why, that man Gregory has enough free +publicity to elect him to Congress. And he's advertising on the strength +of it, like a department store. I was around to his service market a few +minutes ago and people were fighting to get within shouting distance of +the counter. I'd say he was a mighty good bet right now, Dupont. That +stuff has the town all lit up. If his output is anywhere near up to +standard I'd say it would be good business to tie him up and beat the +others to it."<!-- Page 287 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>As Mr. Dupont was about to speak, the telephone bell interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "On the phone. Hello, Dalton.—What's that?—Yes, I +get you.—How's the stuff?—It is, eh? How's that?—I see.—What do you +think?—You would?—All right, Dalton. Sure, go ahead. Drop in at the +apartments when you get back. I want to have a look at that contract."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dalton hung up the instrument and faced about. "You win," he +exclaimed. "Caught the old man just right. He'd have given me a month's +vacation on full pay if I'd have had the nerve to have asked for it." He +wrote the check hurriedly as he spoke and passed it over to Gregory with +the words: "And now, don't forget that you still have the contract to +sign."</p> + +<p>Gregory took the check with shaking fingers, at a loss for words to +express fittingly his appreciation of the favor.</p> + +<p>A moment later the door opened and Silvanus Rock entered with two +strangers. The financier was on time. In another few seconds the hands +of the watch would be pointing to four o'clock. Rock's beady eyes opened +wider as he took in the occupants of the room.</p> + +<p>"I regret that circumstances have forced upon me a very unpleasant +duty," he began, but Gregory cut him short.</p> + +<p>"They haven't," he said. "You guessed wrong this time, Mr. Rock. You've +come for your money. Here it is."<!-- Page 288 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + +<p>Endorsing the check, he passed it over.</p> + +<p>Silvanus Rock's fat fingers closed about the check and his small eyes +glinted. For a moment his heavy jaw sagged and the flabby flesh gathered +in rolls and pressed tightly against his white collar. At length he +found his voice. "This check is not certified," he exclaimed hotly. "I +refuse to take it."</p> + +<p>Dalton smiled.</p> + +<p>"I guess that check isn't worrying you much, Mr. Rock," he said easily. +"We're both pretty well acquainted with Winfield & Camby's reputation +and between you and me, I hardly think they would relish any inference +like that coming from a man in your position here."</p> + +<p>Rock gulped, as he recognized the representative of the big jobbers. +Still he hesitated, rolling the check nervously in his fingers.</p> + +<p>Then Hawkins pressed forward.</p> + +<p>"Don't urge him to take that check, Cap, if he doesn't want to," he +drawled. "In fact I think it would make a much better story if he turned +it down in the presence of all these witnesses."</p> + +<p>Rock confronted Hawkins angrily. "Who are you?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Hawkins introduced himself with a happy smile. "I've been wanting to +meet you for some time, Mr. Rock," he said. "I'm with the Port Angeles +<i>Daily Times</i>. Since coming to Legonia I have become much interested in +the local fishing situation. As yet there<!-- Page 289 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> are several things I'm not +quite clear on. I believe you could enlighten me. What about an +interview?"</p> + +<p>Rock's face purpled, then grew white. His beady eyes shifted nervously +from one person to another, and focused at last on Kenneth Gregory.</p> + +<p>"I'll take the check," he said thickly in a voice that shook with +emotion.</p> + + + +<p class="break">It was some time later when the business of the day came to a +satisfactory close. Winfield & Camby's representative had departed with +his signed contract which McCoy had designated as a "gilt-edge +proposition." The fish were all unloaded and the night-shift had already +started to work on them. The events of the past two days were beginning +to bear fruit.</p> + +<p>Mascola had been beaten. Rock had been beaten. The sea itself had been +beaten by Dickie Lang and the <i>Richard</i>. All of these things had been +gone over again and again. Weak from the reaction of the continued +strain under which they had labored, the quartette of principals in the +cannery drama slouched deep in their chairs and conversation began to +lag.</p> + +<p>Then Dickie Lang broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"We've all forgotten to eat," she exclaimed. "If you'll all come up to +the house I know Aunt Mary will do her best for you."</p> + +<p>Gregory, Hawkins and McCoy accepted the invitation in unison. As they +followed the girl out, Gregory observed to McCoy:</p> + +<p>"I can't understand why Winfield & Camby faced<!-- Page 290 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> about so suddenly. Why, +they saved our lives. Who would have thought it?"</p> + +<p>"I would," Hawkins cut in. "Anybody would who stopped to think." He +slapped Gregory affectionately on the shoulder. "Didn't I tell you, Cap, +that I'd have old Dupont eating out of your hand in less than a week?" +he challenged. "Old leather-face has an ear to the ground. He's heard +the rumble of my thunder and he wants to get to cover."</p> + +<p>His face lighted with enthusiasm as he went on: "Just wait until the +lightning begins to play around some of these birds. Then you'll see +them scamper. I'm going to the city to-morrow to have a talk with the +C.E. and I've just got a sneaking hunch that I'm going to start +something."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 291 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY</h3> + + +<p>The days that followed the return of the victorious cannery fleet from +El Diablo were filled with sunshine for Kenneth Gregory. The effect of +Mascola's defeat was far-reaching, and, magnified by Hawkins' publicity, +gave to the Legonia Fish Cannery a place of prominence in the public +eye.</p> + +<p>Taking immediate advantage of the growing popular interest, Winfield & +Camby entered into an extensive advertising campaign on behalf of +Gregory's product. The brands of the local firm were flaunted on the +bill-boards of a dozen western agencies. Whole states were placarded. +Newspapers featured the cooperative enterprise of the service men and +commented upon it in glowing terms. A current-news company took several +hundred feet of film illustrative of the industry and the signal victory +achieved by the Americans over the alien fishermen.</p> + +<p>Basking in the reflected lime-light, the Service Market caught on like +"wild-fire" and taxed the fishermen to their utmost to supply the +ever-increasing demand for the fresh product.</p> + +<p>Gregory's bank balance began to mount. The fi<!-- Page 292 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>nancial sky was unclouded. +Success loomed bright upon the horizon.</p> + +<p>In the hey-day of prosperity, no one noticed the faint clouds which +crept upward from the sky-line. Storm-signals fluttered feebly and were +passed by unheeded. Then Mr. Dupont, of Winfield & Camby, sounded the +warning.</p> + +<p>"You're not getting enough fish," he exclaimed on one of his periodical +visits to Legonia. "I'm building up a demand for your product which is +fast becoming national. The way things are going now, you will not be +able to supply it. Then I'll be out of pocket for my advertising. I'm +cutting into your surplus every day. In two weeks you'll be down to +bed-rock. What are you going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>As Gregory considered the question, Mr. Dupont answered for him: "You've +got to have more boats. If you haven't the money to tie up in them right +now, I'll back you and take a mortgage on your plant. I'm willing to +stick by you and back you to the limit. But you've got to furnish the +goods."</p> + +<p>Gregory made up his mind quickly. Dupont was right. Things were coming +his way with a rush. What was the use of losing all he had gained by +pursuing a policy of playing safe and "shooting nickels"? Men who made +fortunes on the sea had to take chances. It grayed their hair and seamed +their faces with premature lines. But that was part of the game,—the +toll which the sea demanded.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said. "Let's get down to business.<!-- Page 293 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> I'll go back to the +city with you and we'll fix things up. I know of some boats I can lease +while Barrows is building the others. Let's go."</p> + +<p>From the arrival of the new craft which went to make up the greater +cannery fleet, misfortune stalked grimly in its wake. Fishing was +universally poor. The boats were forced to cruise wide areas in order to +supply fish enough for the cannery and Service Market. Areas which +placed them beyond reach of the radio and gave Mascola his chance. The +Italian struck without warning. Angered by the loss of his prestige, +strengthened by his augmented fleet, he began to hector the extreme +outposts beyond reach of the wireless.</p> + +<p>Then ensued a long period of stormy weather. Owing to new and +inexperienced crews and the increasing interference of Mascola's men, a +number of Gregory's vessels were wrecked on the island shores and +salvaged with great difficulty and expense. With the extended radius of +his operations, overhead expenses mounted <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'preceptibly'">perceptibly</ins>, cutting down +profits and adding to the multiplying worries of the young cannery-owner +in countless ways.</p> + +<p>At the close of one particularly trying day he sat alone in the cannery +office and stared moodily at a wireless despatch which lay on the desk +before him. It came from Diablo and reported the arrival of a portion of +his fleet off the Hell-Hole.</p> + +<p>The message was phrased in the most optimistic terms. Fish appeared to +be plentiful. The weather<!-- Page 294 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> was fine, the sea smooth. There was no sign +of interference from any quarter.</p> + +<p>Yet the worried lines which creased Gregory's forehead deepened. It had +been that way often of late at devil island. No matter how clear the sky +appeared, the shadow of El Diablo bulked dark and sinister across the +sunlit horizon. Something would happen out there to-night. He felt sure +of it. He should have gone with the fleet. But how could he? He was far +down the coast with the new boats when they left.</p> + +<p>Diablo, he realized sharply, was getting on his nerves. Were the +obstacles which he had encountered about the island due to something +more than a mere defense of good fishing grounds? It was not the first +time he had asked himself the question. There was something wrong at El +Diablo. He could not shake off the feeling. As he sat down to wait for +the evil tidings he felt sure would come, he took up an unopened letter +from Hawkins which had been on his desk two days. A part of the letter +caused him to read it the second time.</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"So I got to nosing around and incidentally tumbled on +to something which I think may be of interest to you. +Would it surprise you to know that Mascola does not own +a single fishing-boat? It did me, though I might have +known it if I had remembered the federal statute which +prohibits any but American-owned fishing vessels from +operating in American waters.<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="blockquot">"Rock and Bandrist own the alien fleet. Mascola, you<!-- Page 295 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +see, is an alien. Bandrist apparently is not. I wish by +the way you'd tell me all you can of that bird. I'm +looking up Silvanus myself. I'm on the trail of a pretty +good story, Cap, if it works out all right. Shouldn't be +surprised if I might not drop in on you any time. If I +do, I'll want a boat to go over to Diablo. Keep this all +under your hat. It isn't censored."</div> + +<p>For some time Gregory stared at Hawkins' letter. The information gleaned +from its contents shed a new light upon El Diablo. Bandrist and Rock +were in cahoots. Both were interested in keeping him away from Diablo. +Something was wrong on the island. It was Mascola's job to keep strange +craft from going there to find out. With the words strange craft, his +mind flashed to a new tangent. To his half-closed eyes came a vision of +a long gray hull, running dark, gliding through the water toward them +like a destructive shadow. Bronson had said it looked like the <i>Gray +Ghost</i>. What was the <i>Gray Ghost</i>? Where did she clear from? And what +was her purpose in putting in in the dark to Hell-Hole?</p> + +<p>The questions multiplied with the smoke-wreaths and in the blue haze +which enveloped him, Kenneth Gregory beheld his vague and intangible +suspicions gradually crystallizing into three fundamental hypotheses: +Something crooked was being pulled off at Diablo. Rock and Bandrist were +back of it. The isolation of the island was threatened by the increasing +activities of the American fleet in that vicinity. Mascola's opportunity +was only a means to an end.</p> + +<p>Gregory's frown deepened. What Rock and<!-- Page 296 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> Bandrist were doing at Diablo +concerned him in itself, not at all. In so far as it related to +Mascola's interference, however, it was all-important. Mascola was the +one man who stood between him and his cherished dreams. If Rock and +Bandrist were behind Mascola, as he imagined, would it not be pursuing a +"cart before horse" policy to continue his expensive militant opposition +to the Italian? Why not fathom the motive which lay behind Mascola's +action? If Diablo held a secret, the guarding of which threatened his +business existence, why should he not as an American citizen take the +initiative and——</p> + +<p>His meditations were disturbed by a soft tap on the office door. Dickie +Lang entered.</p> + +<p>"I knew I'd find you here," she said. "Smoking yourself to death and +worrying gray. I've come to take you outside for a while. You'll be sick +if you go on like this. Forget for a while and come with me. The boys +are having a mussel-bake on the beach and they've sent for you. If you +have ever eaten kelp-baked mussels you'll not wait to be urged. The +grunion should run to-night too, and I want you to see them."</p> + +<p>Gregory drew his fingers through his tousled hair and shook his head. +"I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't go. I'm waiting for a radio from +Diablo."</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" the girl interrupted. "It won't take one of the boys five +minutes to bring you the message if it comes while you're gone." She +came closer and<!-- Page 297 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> placed a hand on his arm. "Please come," she said. +"Just to please me."</p> + +<p>Gregory had no alternative. Leaving word with one of the night men to +send him any radio despatch at once, he followed Dickie to the beach, +where the service men sat cross-legged about a blazing fire of +drift-wood. Gregory sank to the sand beside the dark mound of dampened +kelp and watched the operations of the chef as he busied himself in +removing the heavy pieces of canvas which covered the sea-grass.</p> + +<p>"It's nature's fireless-cooker," explained the girl as she took her +place beside him. "You can cook most anything in an oven like that if +you know how. It's simple enough too. All you have to do is to scoop out +a hole in the sand and line it with rocks to hold in the heat. Then +build your fire and let it burn for a couple of hours to get a good bed +of coals. Cover them with a thin layer of damp kelp and put in the +potatoes. Another layer of sea-weed, then the roasting-ears. After that +come the fish, wrapped in paper. Then the mussels, clams or anything +else you want. When you get them all in, cover the whole thing with a +lot of heavy kelp and batten it down with a big piece of canvas. The +whole trick is knowing just when to open the oven. Nothing can burn so +it's better to leave it too long than to try to hurry things."</p> + +<p>Gregory took the tin-plate, piled high with its smoking delicacies, and +leisurely freed a succulent mussel from its shell. As he placed it in +his mouth his<!-- Page 298 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> eyes lit up with genuine pleasure and the anxious lines +slowly disappeared from his face.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of them?"</p> + +<p>He could only gasp his appreciation. Dickie smiled at the rapidly +disappearing contents of his plate. He looked like a new man already. +Nothing like a mussel-bake in the open air to make people forget their +troubles.</p> + +<p>About the dying drift-wood fire, the service men drew closer together +and began to sing.</p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">"There's a long, long trail a-winding</span><br /> + <span class="i0">Into the land of my dreams."</span> + </div> +</div> + +<p>As their voices rose above the dull boom of the surf, Gregory's thoughts +turned to the words of the song. The trail had been long. How long and +how devious, he had never quite before realized. Perhaps it was because +he was tired and the firelight made him think. The "land of his dreams" +was still far ahead. Blocked from his vision for the time being by an +intangible something which lay like a dark shadow across the path.</p> + +<p class="center">"<i>Over there. Over there.</i>"</p> + +<p>He started and looked involuntarily toward the phosphorescent line of +breakers. Over there? Once it had meant France. Now it came to him with +a new meaning. Beyond the gleaming waves he fancied he could see the +jagged shore-line of El Diablo.<!-- Page 299 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">"And we won't come back,</span><br /> + <span class="i0">Till it's over, over there."</span> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Gregory's eyes narrowed. When "it was over, over there," perhaps it +would be over everywhere. Then, and only then, would he reach "the land +of his dreams." He looked guiltily at Dickie Lang and was glad that she +could not read his thoughts concerning the end of the long trail.</p> + +<p>"What were you thinking of, just then? I never saw you look like that +before."</p> + +<p>It was the eternal feminine speaking.</p> + +<p>Gregory shook his head. "I never did look like that before," he said. +"Because I never thought quite that far. Some day perhaps I'll tell you +what I was thinking."</p> + +<p>The moon, which had shyly appeared over the low brown hills, grew bolder +and mingled its rays with those of the fire in crowding back the +shadows. Then a shout came from the water.</p> + +<p>"Grunion."</p> + +<p>The singing ceased abruptly and the service men scrambled to their feet +and raced down the beach.</p> + +<p>Dickie made haste to follow.</p> + +<p>"Come on," she cried to Gregory. "And I'll show you the sight of your +life."</p> + +<p>Following the girl to the wet sands, Gregory was amazed at the +spectacle. The silver waves were alive with glistening fish. Borne high +on the crest of the tumbling breakers, they surged to the beach by +thou<!-- Page 300 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>sands and lay quivering like quick-silver, stranded in the sand by +the back-wash. With a deafening shout men scrambled to the water's edge +and scooped them up in their hands. Dickie rushed to the water and +returned with a small fish, somewhat resembling a sardine.</p> + +<p>"Grunion," she announced. "They come up at certain seasons of the year +to spawn. There are only three places on the coast south of the Golden +Gate where they run. For three or four nights now while the tide is high +and the moon full they'll be swept up on this beach and left to lay +their eggs in the wet sand. If you get closer you can see them standing +on their tails. You'll never believe it unless you do see it. You've got +to work fast to get them for they hop along the beach only for a second. +Then the next breaker takes them out."</p> + +<p>Handing him one of the little fish, she continued: "Take him up to the +fire and look at him. Against a good light you can see clear though +them. If you had a skillet hot on the coals and threw in a handful of +grunion you could never have a finer dish. But they won't hardly keep +over night. For that reason they are good for nothing, commercially."</p> + +<p>She paused abruptly and listened. "I thought I heard some one calling," +she said.</p> + +<p>Turning about they saw three men standing by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it's some word from the boys," Gregory exclaimed. "Let's go and +see."<!-- Page 301 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the fireside they came upon Hawkins with two strangers, whom he +introduced as brothers of his craft. Drawing Gregory aside while Dickie +conversed with Slade and Billings, he said:</p> + +<p>"Listen, Cap. I want a boat and a man to run it who knows Diablo from +the water-line up. I'm on the trail of the biggest kind of a scoop. I +can't give you all the dope but I can tell you a few things that will +open your eyes."</p> + +<p>The two men drew farther into the shadows and conferred in low-pitched +voices, broken now and then by Gregory's muttered exclamations. While +they talked one of the night men from the cannery hurried on to the +scene.</p> + +<p>"Message for Mr. Gregory," he called.</p> + +<p>Gregory took the message and drew nearer the coals. In the red glow of +the fire, he read:</p> + +<p class="quotdate">From: Launch <i>Snipe</i><br /> +At Sea. Five miles off Hell-Hole.</p> + +<div class="blockquot">Got into fight with Mascola about an hour ago. His boats +drove ours from island. His men drunk and armed with +shotguns. Some of boys pretty well filled up. <i>Curlew</i> +lagged with engine trouble and was cut in two off +Hell-Hole Isthmus. Sunk in five minutes by some big +boat, running dark. <i>Albatross</i> picked up crew. All +saved. Wire what to do. Twelve boats here. Others at +Cavalan for repairs.</div> + +<p class="quotsig">Jones.</p> + +<p>Dickie's eyes shone angrily at the message. "Damn them!" she cried. +"They got my <i>Curlew</i>." Grasping<!-- Page 302 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> Gregory's arm, she exclaimed: "There's +a bunch of the fleet off San Anselmo on the mainland side. There's some +more a few miles down the coast from Cavalan. They can all make Diablo +in two hours if you wire them right away. We can go over in the +<i>Richard</i> and round them up and smash Mascola's whole fleet. What if +they have shotguns? We have rifles. Come on. What are you waiting for?"</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang was breathless. Her cheeks glowed. Her eyes were shining.</p> + +<p>Gregory shook his head slowly and looked at Hawkins.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Gray Ghost</i> ran the <i>Curlew</i> down about an hour ago off the +Hell-Hole Isthmus," he said.</p> + +<p>The two strangers drew closer and listened intently to the news while +Dickie chafed at Gregory's failure to get under way.</p> + +<p>"That means we've got to be off," exclaimed one of the men. "How about +going over in that speed-boat of yours?"</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded. "That's what I was figuring on," he said. "I'm going to +send a radio to all my boats within a thirty-mile radius of the island +to reinforce the fleet and mix it with Mascola off the Hell-Hole Isthmus +on the north side. While they're busy on that side, it will leave us a +clear field on the other."</p> + +<p>Dickie's eyes opened wide at his words. As they moved away together in +the direction of the cannery, she cried: "I don't understand at all. +Aren't you going to help the boys out?"<!-- Page 303 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory shook his head and the grim lines tightened about his mouth.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered. "Not this time. That is what Rock, Bandrist and +Mascola think I am going to do. But I'm going to fool them. There's +something back of all this that we can only guess at now. Diablo has a +secret our fathers died to learn. I'm sure of it now. To-night I'm going +to find out what it is."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 304 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE ISLAND'S PRISONER</h3> + + +<p>Diablo was steeped in moonlight. For miles about the sea gleamed like a +mirror. The grim mountains which guarded the shore were robed in saffron +and checkered with black by the dark shadows of the towering peaks as +they fell athwart the hillsides and mingled with the darkness which +hugged the canyons.</p> + +<p>From a small cave high up on a rocky canyon wall the figure of a man +emerged and crept silently into the shadows. Picking his way with great +caution along a winding sheep-trail, he reached the summit of the hill +and looked about. The damp sea air fanned his long hair and caused him +to look in the direction of the fleecy white clouds which were creeping +upward from the horizon. Soon there would be fog. Then he could continue +on his way to the brackish spring on the bluff-side overlooking the +south shore. From there it was only a stone's throw to the beach where +the mussels and abalones clung so thickly to the rocks.</p> + +<p>The thought of the raw shellfish sickened him. For days he had had +nothing else to eat. Shrinking closer into the shadows of the sage and +cactus, he<!-- Page 305 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> waited for the fog. Then he could go on on his nightly +journey. How many months had he been a prisoner on El Diablo? He had +lost all track of time. But what did it matter? Soon he would be dead. +For warm food and a drink of pure water he would almost give himself up +now.</p> + +<p>Borne on the fog-wind came cries and shouts from the other side of the +island. Perhaps help was coming at last. But no, it was only the +fishermen fighting among themselves off the Hell-Hole. He had heard them +many times before across the narrow isthmus. They would only go away as +they had always done and leave him to starve. The faint pulsing of a +motor launch directed his attention to the sea.</p> + +<p>In the paling moonlight, a gray blot clouded the water, moved slowly +among the rocks and merged with the shadows. It was the same boat he had +seen so often in the past. Always it came to the island at night, +running dark. Once in the bright moonlight he had seen men land on the +rocks and walk up the beach to a large cave which extended far into the +cliff. As he had huddled closer into the scant shadows of the +rock-mottled ledge, other men had come down the trail from the island +and he had been forced to slide into the chilling waters of a +grass-grown pool to escape detection. Mother of God, it had been a +narrow escape.</p> + +<p>The fog thickened and he continued on his way to the spring. Creeping +noiselessly through the brush he reached the trail which led downward to +the beach.<!-- Page 306 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> Then he stopped and listened. The soft grating of a muted +chain caused him to drop lower in the grass and draw back. Silently he +retraced his steps until he reached the cover of the heavier brush which +fringed the hillside.</p> + +<p>The strange vessel was dropping anchor again in the little cove. He +dared not run the risk of going farther down the trail. There were +mussels and abalones around the next point. He would get them. By that +time perhaps the men would be gone and he could return by the spring. +The fog settled close about him, blinding his eyes and clinging to his +shivering body. For a moment he stopped and sucked thirstily at the wet +grass. Then he crawled on.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Planing high on the glistening waves, the <i>Richard</i> sped onward across +the moonlit sea in the direction of El Diablo. At the wheel, Kenneth +Gregory strove to concentrate his mind upon the quest which lay before +him. But another thought obtruded with ever recurring frequency. Why had +he permitted Dickie Lang to accompany the party to the island? There +would be danger. There was always danger at El Diablo. Landing upon the +island would be an added risk if Hawkins' suspicions had any grounds for +fact. The girl's threat that she would withdraw her support from the +cannery if not permitted to go with the expedition, was only a bluff: +Why had he not remained firm? He knew the answer. There was a look in +the girl's eyes which he could not withstand. Something<!-- Page 307 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> in her voice +which left him powerless to refuse as she had said:</p> + +<p>"Our fathers were not afraid. They died in one boat to learn Diablo's +secret. We've fought together from the start. Don't leave me at the +finish." She might have added: "If they get you, they might as well get +me too."</p> + +<p>But her eyes told him that. Well, it was too late now to change his +mind. The girl was here and it was up to him to leave her in a place of +safety if such could be found upon the island. While Hawkins conferred +with his two friends, Gregory laid his plans.</p> + +<p>He would leave Dickie with the <i>Richard</i>. She had her automatic and a +rifle. They would lay in close to shore on the south shore, opposite the +Hell-Hole. The island was narrowest there and it was generally in that +vicinity that things had happened oftenest in the past. That was where +the <i>Gray Ghost</i> put in, the place too where his father and Bill Lang +had met their death. With the fishing fleet fighting Mascola's boats on +the north side the opposite shore of the island might not be held in +such rigid surveillance.</p> + +<p>His thoughts turned again to the girl by his side. The rock-shadowed +coves would afford a fair anchorage for the <i>Richard</i>, even on such a +night as this. There Dickie could see without being seen. Should danger +threaten while the landing party were ashore, she must put to sea. He +must make that perfectly clear to her at once.</p> + +<p>As he expected, he encountered stubborn resistance<!-- Page 308 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> from Dickie Lang. If +there was anything to be found out, she wanted to be there to see it. +She was not afraid. She could shoot as well as a bunch of newspapermen. +What was the idea of leaving her clear out of it? Gregory smiled at her +slurring reference to Hawkins' two friends. Then he reflected that what +the girl did not know concerning the real object of the mission to +Diablo would cause her no worry. Until the party landed at least, he was +in command of the expedition. And orders must be obeyed.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to do as I say," he concluded. "Whether you like it or +not."</p> + +<p>Dickie's lip curled and she turned her head away to hide her face. "All +right," she answered. "I'll stay on the <i>Richard</i>." To herself, she +added: "But I'll use my own judgment when it comes to running away."</p> + + + +<p class="break">In the silence of the fog the prisoner of El Diablo crept warily on. +Deep ravines laced his path and yawned close about the trail. A misstep +would hurl him to the bottom of the rock-lined gorge which was swallowed +up in the mists at his feet. Suddenly he stopped and threw himself to +full length on the ground. Far above him the solid whiteness of the fog +wall was broken by irregular flashes of blue. To his ears came the sound +of snapping spluttering flames.</p> + +<p>Covering his head with his arms, he crossed himself. The devil was +speaking from the hilltop. On two other occasions he had heard the +crackling of the<!-- Page 309 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> flames near the old sheep-herder's shack on the crest +of the hill. He had taken the wrong trail. Had gone too far. Worming his +way down the path he fled from the flashes of blue light.</p> + +<p>For some time he retraced his steps in silence, thanking his saints that +the devil had spoken to warn him from the spot. Then the soft breathing +of a motor-launch caused him to stop and listen. He was again at the +bluff-side. Soon he would reach the rocks. The echoes of the motor-boat +died suddenly away and he groped his way to the edge of the cliff and +scrambled down the trail.</p> + + + +<p class="break">"You'd better take her now. The fog's getting pretty thick and I don't +know the shore-line along here."</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang took the wheel.</p> + +<p>"I don't know it any too well myself," she admitted. "We'll have to go +mighty slow and feel our way along."</p> + +<p>Throttling to quarter-speed they skirted the south shore of the island +and nosed their way along the coast. At length the girl suggested a +halt.</p> + +<p>"We ought to be nearly up to the Hell-Hole Isthmus by now," she +whispered. "On the beach along here there should be a lot of tide-water +caves if we're where I think. Around the next point is the goose-neck. +We'd better go ashore and have a look. We may be too far down already."</p> + +<p>Gregory agreed.<!-- Page 310 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll take Hawkins and Slade and row ashore," he said. "Billings can +stay with you on the launch."</p> + +<p>Dickie's objections were quickly overruled and the canvas-wrapped anchor +chain was lowered into the water while the dory was pulled alongside.</p> + +<p>"Look along the base of the cliff for the caves," cautioned the girl in +a low voice. "And watch out for your oars. Keep them in the water and be +sure the wrappings fit tight in the locks."</p> + +<p>Gregory nodded and took his place in the skiff.</p> + +<p>"We'll be back in five minutes," he said. Then he shoved the dory out +into the fog.</p> + + + +<p class="break">From the ledge of rock which bordered the cove, the half-starved man +pulled the razor-backed mussels from the sea-grass and broke them open +with his pocket-knife. For some time he ate rapidly. Then he ceased +pulling at the shellfish and listened. A boat was coming to anchor in +the cove. He could hear the soft slip of the chain through the chaulks. +Perhaps they would land on the beach. Then he would be trapped on the +ledge until they had gone.</p> + +<p>Picking his way over the barnacled rocks he started for the beach. As he +climbed from the ledge, he stopped suddenly and clung to the rocks. On +the beach at his feet, and only a few feet away, he heard the pebbles +grate beneath the bow of a boat. The men were already landing. Staring +into the opaque wall of white, he saw it clouded by three dark blots. +Followed the rattle of stones, the soft crunch of the sand<!-- Page 311 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> dying slowly +away into silence. The men had gone on up the beach.</p> + +<p>The man who clung to the rocks climbed noiselessly to the sand, his +brain burning with one great idea. While the visitors were gone from the +place he would steal their boat. In the fog no one could find him. He +could row about the island and be picked up at sea in the morning by +some fishing-boat. The great chance had come to him at last.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the men had left another to guard the boat. The thought caused +him to draw his pocket-knife. Grasping it tightly in his shaking +fingers, he crawled silently over the wet sand, feeling for the sides of +the dory with his extended arm.</p> + +<p>Hope danced brightly before his eyes as he touched the boat. Weakened by +hunger, he rubbed his shriveled limbs and tottered to his feet, waving +his knife. Then he chuckled aloud. There was no one in the boat.</p> + +<p>Throwing the knife upon one of the seats, he leaped again to the sand +and began to shove. Mother of God, he had no strength. The bottom grated +noisily on the pebbles. Then the dory slid into the water. Laughing to +himself, he threw his body over the rail and felt about for the oars.</p> + +<p>Men were running down the beach. He had not a second to lose. His hand +closed upon the oars. He was saved. Tugging feebly at the heavy sweeps, +he drew them through the water with all his might and the dory moved +slowly forward. Again his weak<!-- Page 312 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>ened muscles responded to the fevered +call of his brain. Suddenly he felt the dory strike a heavy object +ahead. Thrown half from his seat by the impact he dropped an oar, +regained it on the instant and pushed the skiff away from the launch as +hands reached out to grasp it. Then he heard the low murmur of voices +from the motor-boat. As he headed close in to the rocks he felt the +stern of the dory dip sharply.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Gregory whirled at the sharp rattle of oars and raced down the beach in +the direction of the dory. Some one was meddling with their boat. When +he reached the place where they had left the skiff, he found it gone. +From the waters of the little cove came the creak of oar-locks. Plunging +into the water, Gregory swam rapidly in the direction of the launch. +Whoever had taken the boat was heading straight for the <i>Richard</i>.</p> + +<p>A sharp bump sounded close ahead and Gregory redoubled his efforts to +reach the side of the launch. Then he narrowly escaped being run down by +the small boat which had turned and was heading in for the rocks. +Grasping the stern of the dory as it moved by him, he hung for a moment +while he regained his wind, striving vainly to ascertain how many +passengers the skiff carried.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he noticed that the oars no longer disturbed the water and the +skiff had lost its way. Then he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps +coming toward the stern. Releasing his hold, he swam along<!-- Page 313 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> the side and +caught the bow, dragged his body from the water and tumbled into the +boat. The same instant a heavy oar crashed against the seat close to his +head and a dark figure flung itself upon him.</p> + +<p>It was but the work of a moment for Gregory to overpower the thief of +the small boat and bind him with the dory's painter. The man had fought +desperately only for a moment, then collapsed, and <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'jibbering'">gibbering</ins> with fear +had allowed himself to be bound without a struggle.</p> + +<p>Turning the skiff about, Gregory started for the launch. Had the man +landed others on the <i>Richard</i>? Surely he had reached the speed-boat and +had put about. Was he bent only upon stealing the boat or was he only +one of many who would be down upon them any minute?</p> + +<p>Arriving alongside the <i>Richard</i> Dickie hailed him softly.</p> + +<p>"Some fellow tried to steal our boat," he explained to the girl. "If +you'll get Billings to help me get him aboard I'll go back and pick up +the boys."</p> + +<p>Dickie's companion in the launch assisted him in lifting the prisoner to +the <i>Richard's</i> darkened cockpit where he lay huddled in a heap.</p> + +<p>As Gregory rowed away in the direction of the shore, Billings veiled an +electric torch and allowed its tiny ray to fall full upon the face of +the quivering prisoner.</p> + +<p>"A greaser," he whispered to the girl. "Look. He's scared to death."<!-- Page 314 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dickie looked quickly at the crumpled little figure. Then she fell on +her knees close beside the man and peered intently into his shriveled +face. For an instant she remained motionless staring into the face of +the trembling captive.</p> + +<p>"My God!" she whispered. "It's Mexican Joe."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 315 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>UNDER ORDERS</h3> + + +<p>"You have seen nothing of the speed-boat from Legonia?"</p> + +<p>Mascola shook his head in answer to the question and reached for the +bottle which stood on the table in Bandrist's ranch-house.</p> + +<p>Bandrist jerked it away. "Cut that out," he said sternly. "You've had +enough. To-night you have work to do. You must keep sober."</p> + +<p>Mascola scowled, glaring angrily at the islander as he went on:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gregory left Legonia at ten-thirty with his speed-boat. There were +five in the launch. Four men and Miss Lang."</p> + +<p>Mascola drew in his breath sharply.</p> + +<p>"That damned Lang girl," he began. "She is a——"</p> + +<p>Bandrist slid from his chair with a quick movement which carried him +wriggling about the table.</p> + +<p>"Keep your tongue still," he gritted as he towered over the Italian. +"You talk too much."</p> + +<p>Mascola started from his chair, but there was a look in Bandrist's eyes +which made him drop back. A sneering smile played about the Italian's +lips but he<!-- Page 316 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> said nothing. If Bandrist was a fool about a woman, what +was that to him? He could not afford to quarrel with the islander. Not +yet.</p> + +<p>"How did Peters know they were coming here?" he asked after a moment.</p> + +<p>"He didn't," Bandrist answered shortly. "But it is only natural that +they should come here. Their boats have been fishing along the north +shore of the island. Your men failed to drive them off."</p> + +<p>Mascola flushed.</p> + +<p>"My men did drive them off," he contradicted hotly. "Only a few minutes +ago they returned with other boats. I will drive those off too."</p> + +<p>Bandrist smiled insultingly.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you do it?" he challenged. "To-night is a time I must have +something more than talk. I want you to go down and join your fleet at +once, keep a close watch and if the speed-boat does not arrive within a +half-hour, let me know immediately."</p> + +<p>Mascola made no move to obey.</p> + +<p>"Gonzolez is laying in at the goose-neck," he said. "I sent Rossi round +to join him. The <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> lies in the little cove beyond."</p> + +<p>Bandrist's blue eyes flashed. "I can tend to that," he exclaimed. "You +do what you're told and quit meddling with my business."</p> + +<p>"It's my business too," Mascola retorted doggedly. "Gonzolez is becoming +angry at the delay. He will wait no longer."</p> + +<p>Bandrist walked slowly to the window and stared<!-- Page 317 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> out into the fog. When +he faced about an automatic shone dully in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Do as I tell you," he ordered quietly. "And do it quick."</p> + +<p>Mascola's face purpled. Still he made no move to do Bandrist's bidding. +"Don't forget," he said thickly, "that there are others who know besides +you and me. If anything happens to me at Diablo there is one who will +tell what he knows. I have seen to that."</p> + +<p>Bandrist's fingers tightened on the revolver. Then he slowly replaced it +in his pocket. The Italian might only be bluffing, but it was best to +take no unnecessary chances. Mastering his anger at Mascola's +insubordination, Bandrist walked again to the table.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right," he said pleasantly. "Let us go on to the +goose-neck."</p> + + + +<p class="break">When Gregory returned to the <i>Richard</i> with Slade and Hawkins he found +Dickie Lang huddled close beside the crumpled figure of his captive. The +girl was sobbing softly as she listened to the whispered words of the +little Mexican.</p> + +<p>Feeling his way to her side, he placed an arm about her, and drawing her +away from the other man, waited for her to speak. Then she explained in +a voice shaken by tears.</p> + +<p>"It's Mexican Joe. He was with our fathers on the <i>Gull</i>. No one knew it +at Legonia. He went out with them at midnight and reached Diablo a +little<!-- Page 318 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> before daybreak. They left him on the launch while they went +ashore. He saw them murdered on the beach. The launch was run down a few +minutes later. Joe was thrown overboard. He struck his head on the +rocks. When he came to, he heard them searching for him but he hid in +the sea-grass and escaped to the other side of the island. He's been +living there ever since in a cave in the hills. It was he who stole the +gun and provisions from the <i>Petrel</i>."</p> + +<p>Gregory held the girl close as she told the Mexican's story. For an +instant tears dimmed his eyes, then melted away before the white-hot +heat of the blood-lust which surged into his heart. His father had been +murdered at El Diablo. By whom? He put the question.</p> + +<p>The girl's fingers tightened on his arm and she placed her lips close to +his ear.</p> + +<p>"A number of men overpowered them on the beach and drowned them. Mascola +was with them."</p> + +<p>Gregory's jaws locked and the muscles of his body grew tense. Mascola +had murdered his father and Bill Lang. Releasing the girl, he hurried +over to the three men who were talking to the Mexican and grasped +Hawkins by the arm.</p> + +<p>"What are we waiting for?" he cried. "While you're talking the man may +get away."</p> + +<p>"Just a minute, Cap," Hawkins remonstrated. "Things are coming along +fine. Billings and Slade are learning a lot from the Mex. As soon as +they get him filled up with those sandwiches he's going to show<!-- Page 319 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> us the +wireless tower and the cove where the <i>Gray Ghost</i> put in to-night. He +says there's a cave close by where he saw——"</p> + +<p>Gregory shook off his restraining arm.</p> + +<p>"What is all that to me?" he flashed. "Don't you know that Mascola +murdered my father? Let the men go where they will. I'm going after +Mascola."</p> + +<p>Hawkins started at Gregory's words.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know, Cap," he muttered blankly. For a brief instant he strove +to express his sympathy for his friend. Then he gave it up. "Brace up, +old man," he said at last. "Take a grip on yourself. You can't do +anything over here alone. Before morning we'll have the whole gang +rounded up and Mascola with them. I guess the boys are ready to go now."</p> + +<p>Gregory shivered in his wet clothes and Hawkins pressed his slicker upon +him. While the men took their places in the skiff Gregory found Dickie +Lang. The girl came into his outstretched arms and clung close to him in +the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Take me with you," she pleaded. "Don't leave me here. I can't stand +it."</p> + +<p>He released her gently and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, dearest," he said softly. "If you were with us I might be afraid. +And I can't afford to be afraid to-night. Stay close and keep under +cover. If the fog lifts, pull the anchor and drift in to the shadow of +the rocks."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell me what you are going to do?" the girl asked. "You +know that——"<!-- Page 320 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory drew her closer.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to get Mascola," he answered in a whisper. Then his voice +changed suddenly. "And if I don't come back," he went on. "You'll know +now that I love you."</p> + +<p>For an instant his lips met hers. Then he climbed over the coaming and +joined the men in the dory. Dickie listened to the soft creak of the +oar-locks until the sound was no longer audible.</p> + +<p>Mascola had killed her father and Richard Gregory. His son had gone to +bring the Italian to justice. But what could five men do on the island +against the hordes of Bandrist and Mascola? Who were the mysterious +strangers who had accompanied them from Legonia? The questions crowded +close upon one another as they raced through her brain. Then her mind +surrendered to a single thought,—a thought which warmed her heart and +took possession of her being.</p> + +<p>"You'll know now that I love you."</p> + +<p>She whispered the words softly through lips which were still warm with +the memory of Gregory's kiss. Hope surged into her heart. God was good. +Breathing a prayer for the safety of the man she loved, she caught up +her rifle and sat down to wait.</p> + + + +<p class="break">The men from the launch landed silently on the beach and hid the skiff +among the rocks. Then they followed the Mexican up the trail. Crawling +through<!-- Page 321 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> the brush, they halted at length at their guide's direction.</p> + +<p>"From the top of the hill," he whispered, "the devil speaks."</p> + +<p>Billings caught the Mexican by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said. "Lead the way and the devil will speak no longer."</p> + +<p>When the sheep-herder's shack loomed across their path, Slade commanded +a halt. Then he gave orders to surround the building. As the men drew +near the cabin the door opened suddenly and a man stepped out. Before he +could close the door, Slade and Hawkins were upon him. Gregory and +Billings darted for the open doorway as the light disappeared from +within. From the fog-shrouded cabin came the sound of muffled blows, the +quick breathing of men, the rasp of feet upon the creaking floor. A +choking cry died away into silence. Silence broken after a moment by a +sharp click. Then another. Slade relighted the lamp and turned to +examine the two white-faced men who lay handcuffed on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Look like 'snowbirds,'" he said. "The two of them haven't the strength +of one healthy cat."</p> + +<p>Passing the men over to Billings with instructions to search them, he +walked to the radio switch-board and examined it carefully.</p> + +<p>"They've got a regular set just the same," he said half-admiringly. +"They could reach Encinitas with this one all right."<!-- Page 322 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> + +<p>Seating himself on a stool by the board he placed his hand on the key.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to try to get the <i>Bennington</i>," he said.</p> + +<p>Billings nodded. "She ought to be close along shore by now," he +answered. "If they left when they said they would."</p> + +<p>While the search went on the radio spluttered spasmodically. Finding +nothing of value on the persons of his captives, Billings bared the arms +of the two men and scrutinized the flesh intently in the yellow +lamplight.</p> + +<p>"Snowbirds," he announced. "One of them's punctured up one side and down +the other. Other's not so bad. Good business I'd say for them to get +hold of a couple of fellows like these. They're about the only ones they +could get to stick in a God-forsaken hole like this and keep their +mouths shut."</p> + +<p>He rose as he spoke and began to move slowly about the room.</p> + +<p>"Tell the Mexican to keep a good lookout outside," he instructed +Hawkins. "Then you and your friend can help me go through the shack."</p> + +<p>Gregory assisted mechanically in the search but with little interest. +The sooner they were through the sooner they would go down to the cove +where the <i>Gray Ghost</i> lay at anchor. Then he would find Mascola. A +muttered exclamation from Hawkins caused him to look up quickly.</p> + +<p>The newspaperman was handing Billings a cigar-shaped capsule half filled +with a coarse white powder.<!-- Page 323 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's this, Jack?" he asked. "Looks like sugar. Found it in the +grub-locker."</p> + +<p>Billings poured the contents of the capsule into the palm of his hand. +For a moment he scrutinized it intently. "That's the stuff we're looking +for," he said quietly. "Though I never saw it in a package like that +before."</p> + +<p>Slade held up a hand for silence and pulled his head-set closer about +his ears. For a moment his attention was held by the instrument. Then +his hand again sought the key. When the sputtering of the radio had died +away he announced:</p> + +<p>"Got the <i>Bennington</i>. She's about a mile off the goose-neck. They're +going to land in the next cove. The <i>Gray Ghost's</i> at anchor now off the +isthmus cove. Mascola's speed-boat passed them in the fog about an hour +ago. He's lying in somewhere farther down."</p> + +<p>He rose as he spoke and began to wreck the radio set.</p> + +<p>"Tie those fellows up good, Jack," he instructed Billings. "We don't +want to be bothered with them down below. We've got to be on our way. +The boys will be there by the time we get down the hill. What's that +you've got there?"</p> + +<p>Billings extended the capsule and Slade examined it curiously.</p> + +<p>"Queer package," he said. "But it's the straight dope."<!-- Page 324 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hawkins' eyes shone with excitement as he crowded closer to Slade. "What +is it, Tom?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Heroin," answered Slade quickly. "A refined product of opium. Never saw +it put up like this before though. When we hit the beach maybe we'll +learn the idea."</p> + +<p>Beckoning Gregory to his side, Slade took from his pocket a deputy +shield of the United States Customs and pinned it on the young man's +vest.</p> + +<p>"For your own protection," he explained. Then he added: "You must act +entirely under my orders from now on, Mr. Gregory. Do only what I tell +you. Nothing more. You have been in the service of the government +before. You know what it means."</p> + +<p>A few moments later the four men followed the Mexican down the trail +leading to the goose-neck.</p> + +<p>Under orders. Do only what I tell you. Nothing more. The words echoed in +Gregory's mind. Slade did not understand. Mascola was to the revenue man +only one of many. A man to be arrested and tried. Perhaps acquitted on a +mere technicality of law or a perjured alibi. Slade did not know the +Italian. Had Dickie Lang not said that Mascola laughed at the courts? +Gregory's jaw set tighter as he descended the trail. To-night, orders or +no orders, he would bring Mascola to justice by the law of the sea.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 325 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE</h3> + + +<p>With the sands of the sea-beach gritting beneath their feet, Slade +ordered a halt and conferred with the Mexican. Then he whispered to +Billings: "This is the isthmus bay where I told the men to land. I know +where I am now all right. Around the next point is the goose-neck. The +cave Joe speaks of is at the far end of the cove. It has two entrances, +one from the bluff and one from the beach. Jack Smith's been in it. I'm +going to send him ahead. Take a look for the landing boats down by the +water."</p> + +<p>Billings disappeared on the instant and a moment later rejoined his +chief.</p> + +<p>"Everything's O.K.," he announced. "The men have landed and are standing +by for instructions."</p> + +<p>"Tell them to carry the dingeys clear of the tide and join me here," +Slade directed. "Send one boat back to the <i>Bennington</i> and have the +skipper move her around to the goose-neck in ten minutes. Tell him to +nail anything that's at anchor in the cove."</p> + +<p>Billings returned in a few minutes accompanied by the men from the +revenue cutter. Silently they grouped themselves about their chief and +waited for instructions.<!-- Page 326 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory crowded closer and listened while Slade gave the men their +orders. The deputies were to be divided. A few of the best trained men, +familiar with the local topography, were to scout on in advance, +entering the cave from the bluff-side. The others were to move along the +beach, surround the main entrance and cut off escape to the water. All +were to challenge once. Then shoot to kill.</p> + +<p>Slade selected his men carefully. When he came to Gregory he said: "Stay +with the main body on the beach."</p> + +<p>It was in Gregory's mind to argue. Slade was throwing him into the +discard. What chance would he have of finding Mascola at the main +entrance to the cave? The leader of the advance was already marshaling +his men about him.</p> + +<p>Gregory found Hawkins and the two men walked away from the others, +whispering together. Hawkins returned alone. When the advance party had +left Slade checked up the men who remained.</p> + +<p>"I'm a man short," he announced. "What became of Mr. Gregory? I told him +to stay here."</p> + +<p>Hawkins shook his head blankly when questioned concerning the sudden +disappearance of his friend. Gregory might have misunderstood. It was +not like him to disobey orders. In any case Slade need not worry. His +ex-captain was used to scouting and had received many citations during +the war for crossing the enemy's lines. Gregory would be a help to the +advance if he had gone with them, Hawkins stoutly<!-- Page 327 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> maintained. Then he +lied earnestly: "He knows that cave like a book."</p> + +<p>Joining the men detailed to enter the cave in advance, when they reached +the top of the bluff, Gregory reported to the officer in charge.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Slade sent me to join you," he said. "I brought him over from +Legonia in my launch."</p> + +<p>Jack Smith hesitated. "All right," he muttered after a moment. "Slade's +the boss. Take off that slicker. It'll catch on the brush. Follow after +the others and stay close. Don't do anything until I tell you."</p> + +<p>His manner was curt and plainly showed that he was not pleased with the +latest addition to the party. But Kenneth Gregory cared little for that. +If the <i>Gray Ghost</i> was at the goose-neck, the chances were that Mascola +would be in the cave. And Mascola must be given no chance to escape.</p> + +<p>As he followed after the others down the winding sheep-trail, before +Gregory's eyes flashed a vision of his father's battered face staring up +at him from the canvas bundle on the hatch. Then came the memory of +Mascola's insolent look of triumph when he had first beheld Richard +Gregory's son on the wharf at Legonia. Why had he not seen and +understood before this?</p> + +<p>But then, he had had no proof. He reflected bitterly that he had no +proof now. Only a Mexican's unsupported word that Mascola had stood by +while his father and Bill Lang were murdered by his men.<!-- Page 328 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> That was not +enough. Mascola might be convicted of smuggling but he would go clear on +the charge of murder.</p> + +<p>Gregory shook his head slowly in the darkness. No, Mascola would not go +clear. He would choke a confession from the Italian with his own hands. +Somewhere below him in the fog, a girl waited for him to bring back her +father's murderer. The girl he loved, had always loved, but had never +known it before to-night. If he failed, he could never face Dickie Lang +again. But he would not fail.</p> + +<p>His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sharp scuffling ahead. +Rushing down the trail he came upon the deputies struggling with two men +in the bottom of a small ravine. As he assisted the revenue men in +securing their captives, he heard Smith whisper: "Down the gulch, men. +Take it easy. It's steep. Stay with these fellows, Joe."</p> + +<p>The air which sucked through the ravine grew colder as they descended. +Then the dank atmosphere became strongly permeated with the odor of +fish. Gregory felt a hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"Go last," Smith <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'order'">ordered</ins>. "Watch the others. Do what they do. No more."</p> + +<p>Foot by foot, the men wormed their way over the dry sticks which choked +the entrance to the cave. Then Smith ordered a halt.</p> + +<p>Leaving a half dozen men at the entrance he instructed them: "Watch this +outlet. When you hear a shot inside, light the signal flares and throw +them<!-- Page 329 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> inside. Then you can see anybody that tries to get by you. They're +going to do the same thing at the main entrance." Beckoning Gregory and +the two remaining deputies to his side, he said: "We'll go on into the +cave. Keep close behind me. When I give the signal by calling on them to +give themselves up, each one of you pick a man and hang to him. They +haven't a chance of getting out with both entrances lit up and guarded. +Come on."</p> + +<p>The carpet of dried sea-grass thrown up by the high tides, deadened +their footsteps as they crawled into the cave. For an instant they crept +on through the darkness. Then a twist in the pathway brought a faint +gleam of light ahead. Smith flattened to the kelp and wriggled nearer +with the two men behind him following close. Gregory was the last to +reach the surface of a table-like ledge of rock which ribbed their path +and projected outward over the cavern. Crawling abreast of the deputies, +he raised slowly to his elbow and looked down.</p> + +<p>The floor of the cave lay only a few feet below, faintly discernible in +the yellow light which issued from a hooded lantern. Gregory's eyes +searched the grotesque shadows which fell athwart the rocky floor.</p> + +<p>Were there no men in the cave?</p> + +<p>For an instant no sound broke the stillness. Then, from the darkness +beyond the lantern, came the shuffling of footsteps and three fishermen +stepped out into the circle of light and dropped to their knees on the +rocky floor.<!-- Page 330 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gregory's eyes opened wider. The cavern floor was literally covered with +fish. As he sought to fathom the strange actions of the fishermen as +they passed silently up and down the long rows of albacore, the silence +was broken by an angry snarl and the figure of another man leaped out +from the shadow. Rushing upon one of the fishermen, he shook him roughly +by the arm. Then the rays of the lantern fell upon his face.</p> + +<p>Gregory's automatic was in his hand as he caught sight of Mascola. +Holding the weapon close against his coat to muffle the click of the +hammer, he cocked the revolver and shoved it forward over the ledge. For +an instant the muzzle wavered, then drew steadily upward until the +sights were in line with Mascola's waistband. What an easy shot it was. +He couldn't miss. What was the matter with his trigger finger? His arm +slowly relaxed. He couldn't shoot the man from the dark.</p> + +<p>He'd shoot you quick enough.</p> + +<p>I know he would, but——</p> + +<p>He murdered your father. He didn't give him a chance, did he?</p> + +<p>There was logic in that. The arm which held the automatic stiffened. The +eyes which glinted over the sights, grew hard, then closed to blot out +the hated visage. When they opened again, the temptation had passed and +Mascola was walking again to the shadow.</p> + +<p>From the ledge above the cave a bright ray of<!-- Page 331 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> light followed the figure +of the Italian. Mascola leaped to cover behind a huge rock.</p> + +<p>The same instant the roar of a pistol shot deafened Gregory's ear. As +Smith fired into the air to give the signal to the men without, he +cried: "Hands up, men. You're prisoners of the United States."</p> + +<p>The flash-light fell from the deputy's hand as an answering shot echoed +from the darkness across <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'the the'">the</ins> cave. Smith rolled to his side. "Nail +'em," he gasped, and tumbled from the ledge.</p> + +<p>Gregory slid from the rocks and stumbled to the fish-covered floor of +the cavern. The light from the lantern was suddenly extinguished. +Dropping to his knee, he shot at the flash of a gun ahead. Dimly to his +ears came the shouts of the posse fighting their way into the cave. Soon +the vaulted walls reverberated with the rattle of firearms and the +darkness was faintly illumined by the light of the signal flares burning +at the entrances.</p> + +<p>Brought into bold relief by the weird glow from the sputtering candles, +a number of darting figures could be seen leaping to cover behind the +rocks. From the shadows came bright jets of flame. Bullets whined +through the cavern, clipping the walls and rattling the pebbles to the +stone floor. Flattening his body against the slimy fish, Gregory +wriggled foot by foot in the direction of the big rock which sheltered +Mascola.</p> + + + +<p class="break">The game was up. Bandrist emptied his revolver<!-- Page 332 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> in the direction of the +advancing deputies and drew cautiously away from Mascola. The <i>Fuor +d'Italia</i> lay at anchor in the cove beyond the goose-neck. The +tunnel-like passage, which only himself knew, would lead him to the +beach. While the Italian delayed the attacking party would be his chance +to take to the boat. In the fog he could make his escape. By daybreak he +could make the Mexican coast. Then he would be safe. Of Mascola he +thought but little, save as a means to an end. It would serve the +Italian right.</p> + +<p>Mascola faced about a few minutes later to find himself fighting alone. +Then he heard the rattle of loose stones dropping from the cavern wall. +Bandrist was leaving him. The Italian's blood warmed at the islander's +treachery. Did Bandrist think he was the only one who knew the way out? +His anger mounted as he climbed the wall and wormed his way through the +narrow opening. So Bandrist thought to give him the slip, did he? Well, +he'd show him.</p> + +<p>When Bandrist reached the end of the tunnel he crawled out into the fog +and listened intently. Some one was following from the cave. Jamming a +fresh clip into his automatic he waited. Then he silently replaced his +revolver. A shot would only draw pursuit. Perhaps there were men already +guarding the secret exit. Huddling close to the cavern tunnel he waited +for the figure of the man behind him to emerge.</p> + +<p>When Mascola reached the end of the tunnel he felt himself grasped +roughly by the arm and twisted to the<!-- Page 333 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> rocks. Bandrist recovered his +wits quickly when he recognized the Italian.</p> + +<p>"Quiet," he whispered. "You were a long time coming. There may be men on +the beach already. Where is your boat?"</p> + +<p>Mascola nodded his head in the direction of the beach.</p> + +<p>"My skiff lies close to rocks by the point," he said. "The launch is +close by."</p> + +<p>Bandrist fingered his automatic nervously.</p> + +<p>"We can wait no longer," he said.</p> + +<p>As he spoke he began to crawl forward toward the water.</p> + + + +<p class="break">The blue light from the signal flares flickered about the rock behind +which Mascola had gone into hiding. Gregory reached the shadow, revolver +in hand. Raising his body to his elbow, he leaned forward and looked up. +The space which lay between the rock and the cavern wall was empty. He +was on his feet in an instant. Mascola had escaped. That much was clear. +But how? Surely not through the main entrance to the beach. He would +have no chance that way. The sound of the tumult at the mouth of the +cavern told him that. Neither could the Italian have taken the other +passage. He would have seen him as he passed.</p> + +<p>He searched the floor carefully for a possible hiding-place which would +shelter the man he sought. Then he raised his eyes to the cave wall. It +was lined with irregular niches, some of which might be large<!-- Page 334 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> enough to +hide the body of a man. In the faint glow from the signal flares, he +climbed slowly upward until he felt a cool rush of air fan his cheek. +The air was heavy with fog; laden with the breath of the sea. The cavern +held still another entrance.</p> + +<p>Forcing his body through a cleft in the rocks from whence the breeze +came, he found himself in a tunnel-like passage. The dry sticks snapped +beneath his feet as he felt his way through the impenetrable darkness, +stopping at intervals to listen.</p> + +<p>That Mascola had preceded him only a few minutes before, he felt +reasonably certain. By the time he reached the end of the passage the +Italian might have gained a place of safety. Why had he not jumped from +the ledge at first sight of his father's murderer? By now it would all +be over. His thoughts turned quickly to Dickie Lang. Perhaps the <i>Gray +Ghost</i> might have come upon the <i>Richard's</i> anchorage in the cove +adjoining the goose-neck. Perhaps the speed-boat had been run down. +Would the girl do as she was told and stay on the launch?</p> + +<p>His mind a prey to conflicting thoughts and emotions, Gregory crawled on +through the darkness.</p> + + + +<p class="break">When Bandrist and Mascola reached the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>, the Italian +kicked the dory adrift as the two men climbed aboard. "Pull the hook," +he cried, "while I start the motor."</p> + +<p>"No," Bandrist whispered. "You'd be a fool to do that. The cave was +filled with revenue men. That<!-- Page 335 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> means there's a cutter lying in around +here somewhere. Perhaps at the goose-neck. She would spot you in a +minute with her search. We must row the launch around the next point at +least."</p> + +<p>Mascola growled his resentment at Bandrist's air of authority. +Nevertheless he saw the wisdom of the suggestion and hastily brought out +the long ash oars and fastened them in the brass locks. Bandrist pulled +the anchor and took his place at one of the sweeps. For some moments the +two men rowed silently into the fog. Then the islander ceased his labor +at the oar abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Head out," he whispered. "There's a launch ahead."</p> + +<p>Mascola's eyes sought to pierce the fog where the dim outline of a +motor-boat loomed dark across their course. Then he swung the <i>Fuor +d'Italia</i> about and skirting the point rowed doggedly away from the +darkened stranger.</p> + +<p>The Italian's ugly temper was not bettered by the physical exercise. +There was no need to row the launch as far as this. If Bandrist was +going with him, he must learn he was to be only a passenger. The <i>Fuor +d'Italia</i> did not belong to Rock and the islander. She was his own +property. He would run her where he pleased and as he pleased. As he +labored, he formulated his plans.</p> + +<p>He would head straight for the Mexican line, keeping well out to escape +the patrol off San Juan. Daybreak would put him in the little lagoon +beyond<!-- Page 336 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> Encinitas. There he would be among friends. He reflected +suddenly that he had but little money. American gold in Lower California +would buy much. Without it, even his friends would give him but scant +comfort. Bandrist, he remembered, never trusted his money to banks, but +paid his bills in yellow gold which he carried in the coin belt about +his waist.</p> + +<p>The observation gave Mascola comfort. Bandrist had enough for them both. +He would see that he received his share.</p> + +<p>He ceased rowing.</p> + +<p>"Far enough," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Bandrist's reply was sharp and decisive.</p> + +<p>"Your exhaust can be heard for miles," he said. "The wind is blowing in +our faces. We must keep at the oars. Then they will think us still on +the island. If you start the motor now you'll bring pursuit."</p> + +<p>Mascola's hatred of Bandrist increased with the quiet tone of command +with which the islander spoke.</p> + +<p>"There is no boat that can catch mine with this lead," he bragged.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gregory's boat is faster than yours for one," Bandrist disputed +quietly. "The new revenue cutters are faster for others. Why are you a +fool?"</p> + +<p>A hot argument began on the instant between the two men. An argument +which ended by Bandrist's knocking Mascola to the cockpit.</p> + +<p>Mascola lay where he fell for a moment, dazed by the blow. Bandrist was +not rowing he noticed.<!-- Page 337 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> Without doubt he had him covered with his +revolver. Fuming with impotent rage, the Italian growled: "Well, you're +the boss. It's up to you."</p> + +<p>As he struggled to his feet he made up his mind to get square with the +islander. Again resuming his oars, he rowed steadily until Bandrist gave +the order to start the motor.</p> + +<p>The <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> leaped forward and the cool sea air fanned Mascola's +flaming face. Settling quietly into his seat he turned his attention to +the wheel.</p> + +<p>He could afford to wait, but only a little longer.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Dickie Lang grasped her rifle tighter and leaned over the rail as she +heard the soft dip of oars. Then her hold on the gun relaxed. Perhaps it +was Gregory returning to the launch.</p> + +<p>A glance into the gloom to starboard caused her to drop silently into +the cockpit. Resting the rifle on the coaming she covered the +approaching boat and waited in silence. To her ears came the low murmur +of men's voices. Then the oncoming craft veered sharply and faded from +view. For some time the girl crouched upon the floor of the launch. At +length the silence of the night was broken by the far-off pulsing of a +high-speed motor.</p> + +<p>She jumped to her feet, her eyes glowing with excitement. Even at the +distance she could not be deceived. There was only one other craft about +with an exhaust like that.<!-- Page 338 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mascola was fleeing from Diablo in the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>.</p> + +<p>She sprang to the hood and began pulling on the anchor-chain. Then she +stopped suddenly. The man she loved was still on the island. Perhaps he +had been wounded. Maybe killed. And in the meantime, Mascola was +escaping. For an instant love and hate fought for possession of the +heart of Dickie Lang. Then the chain slipped through her fingers and the +anchor dropped again to the bottom. Silently she returned to the wheel +and sat down to wait. It was the hardest part of all to play. And it +always fell to a woman.</p> + + + +<p class="break">When Gregory reached the end of the tunnel he could hear the shouts of +men and the rapid discharge of firearms from around the point. He must +be in the cove adjoining the goose-neck. Crawling rapidly through the +brush he gained the beach. Then he stopped and listened. Mascola had +evidently taken to the water.</p> + +<p>A sudden fear gripped his heart at the thought and sent him racing down +the beach in the direction of the <i>Richard's</i> dory. His fears for the +girl's safety abated as he found the dory undisturbed among the rocks. +Shoving it into the water he rowed hastily for the launch. As the skiff +scraped the <i>Richard's</i> side, he sprang aboard and caught the girl in +his arms. For an instant love alone dominated his heart.</p> + +<p>"Mascola escaped in the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>."<!-- Page 339 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dickie's words recalled Gregory to his purpose. The next instant he was +pulling at the chain.</p> + +<p>"I'll take you around the point to the cutter," he called to her as he +worked. "You'll be safe there until——"</p> + +<p>"No." The girl's answer was spoken with a determination there was no +gainsaying. "I'm going with you," she said in a low voice. "There were +two men in the launch."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 340 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>BENEATH THE WATERS</h3> + + +<p>As the <i>Richard</i> cleared the point and plunged into trough of the swell, +a thin column of light filtered through the fog astern and traveled +slowly over the gray water.</p> + +<p>Gregory put the wheel over and began to zigzag as he remembered that the +<i>Bennington</i> was lying in at the goose-neck. At the distance the revenue +cutter would be unable to distinguish friend from foe and would take no +chances.</p> + +<p>"Stay down," he called to Dickie. "It's the search from the +<i>Bennington</i>. They may shoot."</p> + +<p>The light moved shoreward as he spoke, carefully searching the rocks +which fringed the coast. Gregory threw the wheel in the opposite +direction and struck out at a tangent toward the sea. His speed would +soon carry him beyond rifle range. Kicking open the cut-out, he advanced +the throttle. The <i>Richard</i> shook with the sudden burst of power, then +began to plane.</p> + +<p>Gregory kept his eyes on the moving rays as he held the launch on her +seaward tack. The light was moving nearer, but its beams were paling. +The cutter evidently had not moved from her anchorage. Doubt<!-- Page 341 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>less she +would be kept fully occupied at the goose-neck. The next instant the +fog-wall ahead dripped in the rays of the searchlight.</p> + +<p>Gregory's hand flashed to the spark as his foot released the throttle. +The angry roar of the speed-boat died away on the instant and the hull +dropped sullenly. Putting about, he started shoreward at right angles to +his former course.</p> + +<p>The whine of machine-gun bullets sounded over his head to the starboard. +Then the leaden hail was drowned by the bark of the open exhaust.</p> + +<p>He had done the right thing that time. To have tried to dodge at speed +would have turned the <i>Richard</i> over. Now he was safe for a few seconds +at least he reflected, as he watched the light traveling over his former +course.</p> + +<p>As the rays again bent shoreward he saw a long point projecting out into +the sea. Beyond the jutting promontory he would be safe. Running a +course which would carry him clear of the point by a narrow margin he +settled low in his seat and dashed forward.</p> + +<p>The fog-dimmed light hovered about the point as the <i>Richard</i> plunged +boldly into the focus of its dripping beams. As the launch veered to +make the turn, the waters astern were splashed by the steel pellets from +the <i>Bennington's</i> machine-gun. Then the gunner of the revenue cutter +began to raise his sights. Splinters flew from the <i>Richard's</i> stern. +The coaming was riddled as the deadly hail moved toward the bow.<!-- Page 342 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p> + +<p>The gunner on the <i>Bennington</i> ceased grinding as the launch disappeared +behind the point.</p> + +<p>"I could have got that bird in one more second," he muttered ruefully. +"If the old man would let us move, we can get him yet."</p> + +<p>Gregory threw off the power and hurdled the seat.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt?" he called to Dickie as he hurried toward the stern.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang was not hurt. Only cut by a flying splinter. It was nothing. +The girl made her way forward.</p> + +<p>"Let me take her until we clear the coast," she said. "You gave me the +shivers the way you grazed that reef off China Point."</p> + +<p>As they inclined their ears into the gray mist which enveloped them, +they caught the murmur of the <i>Fuor d'Italia's</i> exhaust.</p> + +<p>Gregory surrendered the wheel.</p> + +<p>The girl listened to the rapid-fire pulsations of the boat ahead.</p> + +<p>"He's headed out to sea," she said. "And we're going to have to drive to +catch him with this lead."</p> + +<p>Her words were drowned in the thunder of the <i>Richard's</i> motor and the +speed-launch bounded away to overtake her hated rival.</p> + + + +<p class="break">"The fog is lifting. Soon it will be clear. We must watch closely for +pursuit."</p> + +<p>Mascola grunted a reply to Bandrist's observations. Weather conditions +meant very little to him at the<!-- Page 343 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> present moment. His mind was occupied +with matters of far more importance.</p> + +<p>It would be well to know just where Bandrist stood concerning a division +of his money before they went farther. Now would be a good time to find +out. He made the suggestion at once that the islander grant him an +advance of funds until such time as he could obtain his money from +Legonia and Port Angeles.</p> + +<p>"I have no money to spare," Bandrist answered curtly. "You are foolish +not to have been better prepared. Our business is one which should have +taught you that. You will have a hard time now to get your money from +the States."</p> + +<p>An angry retort welled to Mascola's lips but he choked it back. Bandrist +was speaking again.</p> + +<p>"Here is one hundred dollars. You are welcome to that. But no more."</p> + +<p>Mascola's eyes flashed at the smallness of the sum. A hundred dollars +would be next to nothing, even in Mexico. Bandrist, he felt sure, +possessed money in plenty. If there was not enough for two, there would +be plenty for one.</p> + +<p>Mascola made up his mind quickly. He would be the one. He had given +Bandrist his chance. The islander had tried twice to-night to give him +the double-cross. Would do it again if he got the chance. But Bandrist +would have no more chances. Reaching out his hand, Mascola took the gold +with muttered words of thanks. Then his fingers sought the switch and +the noise of the motor died suddenly into silence.<!-- Page 344 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Listen."</p> + +<p>Mascola turned quickly in his seat and looked over the stern. At the +same time his right hand sought his dagger.</p> + +<p>Bandrist twisted about, his eyes searching the gray waters astern.</p> + +<p>"I don't," he began. But his words ended in a choking gasp.</p> + +<p>Mascola's knife had found its mark and the Italian's fingers were +tearing at Bandrist's throat.</p> + +<p>The islander struggled to reach his gun, but he felt his strength +leaving him. The moonlight shimmered before his eyes, mingled with gray +splashes of fog. A sharp pain laced his side. His mouth opened and he +fought hard for air. Heavy darkness began to settle about him. From the +far-off spaces he heard the sound of rapid breathing. Or was it the +faint pulsing of a motor-launch? Then the murmur grew fainter until it +trailed away into silence. Mascola pulled the islander roughly from the +seat and dragged him along the floor of the cockpit. Then he sprang to +the wheel and started the motor. There was no time now to get the money. +The fog was lifting. And there was a boat following.</p> + + + +<p class="break">Clear of the Diablo reefs, Gregory took the wheel and plunged the +<i>Richard</i> into the shifting wall of fog. Mile after mile he traversed in +silence, stopping at intervals to listen to the faint pulsing of the +boat ahead. At length the gray canopy lifted slowly from<!-- Page 345 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> the water and +he caught the outline of the <i>Richard's</i> broad hood rising staunchly +above him in the gloom. He smiled grimly at the sight. The motor had not +missed a shot since leaving the island. And they were overhauling the +<i>Fuor d'Italia</i>.</p> + +<p>He threw the switch again as his eye caught the gleam of the moonlight +ahead. For some moments he listened intently. But only the soft slap of +the waves against the hull of the launch disturbed the stillness.</p> + +<p>Mascola had escaped him; had noted the clearing and heard the sound of +pursuit; had doubled back into the fog bank. Anguish took possession of +his heart at the thought as he reached for the switch. But neither +Gregory nor Dickie Lang heard the rasp of the starting mechanism. The +sound was swallowed up in a deafening roar which came from the moonlit +waters ahead.</p> + +<p>"Straight ahead," the girl shouted. "I see him."</p> + +<p>Gregory had already thrown in the clutch. In a swirl of white water the +<i>Richard</i> raised her head proudly, and snorting angry defiance, raced +across the intervening waves which separated her from her primordial +enemy. Gregory saw the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> leap forward in the moonlight, +noted that the craft had already changed direction and was heading off +at a tangent, a course which would bring Mascola under cover of the fog +bank.</p> + +<p>Veering as sharply as her speed would permit, the <i>Richard</i> dipped like +a gull and sped on to intercept the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>. The shifting bank +of blinding mist<!-- Page 346 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> hung uncertainly above the shimmering waters less than +half a mile ahead, dead ahead for Mascola, off Gregory's starboard +quarter. For the Italian it meant safety. To his pursuer it spelled +defeat.</p> + +<p>The <i>Richard</i> was gaining. Gregory measured the distance with a +calculating eye. He was going to head the Italian off.</p> + +<p>"Swing her to port. Catch him on the beam."</p> + +<p>Acting at once upon Dickie's advice, Gregory saw the wisdom of it at +once. His angling course would have put him into the fog before the +<i>Fuor d'Italia</i> reached it. Now he would catch Mascola broadside, full +on the beam. Or at least at an angle which would drive the heavier hull +through the lighter one.</p> + +<p>With seaman's instinct, Mascola sensed rather than saw the <i>Richard's</i> +change of course. If he tried to make the fog he would be cut in two. If +he deviated a hair's breadth at that speed he'd turn turtle. There was +only one thing he could do.</p> + +<p>He reached his decision in a whirl of the propeller.</p> + +<p>Dickie Lang knew his answer.</p> + +<p>"Hard a port. Throw your switch."</p> + +<p>The words tumbled from her lips in a piercing shriek. Gregory obeyed on +the second, thinking the girl had lost her reason. The <i>Richard</i> dipped +with a swerve which threw him violently against the coaming. As he felt +the heavy hull sinking down into the water he saw that the <i>Fuor +d'Italia</i> had ceased to plane and was settling sluggishly.</p> + +<p>A snarl of disappointment burst from Mascola's<!-- Page 347 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> lips as he saw the +<i>Richard</i> did not flash across his bow. A snarl, which changed quickly +to a cry of rage as he noted that the two hulls were drifting sullenly +toward each other. Robbed of his way, he could not escape. The <i>Richard</i> +was already brushing the <i>Fuor d'Italia's</i> rail.</p> + +<p>In a frenzy of mingled fear and rage, Mascola whipped out his dagger and +leaped to the cockpit to battle with the hurtling figure that sprang +from the other boat as the two hulls scraped. Gregory caught Mascola's +knife arm and twisted it backward, crowding the Italian to the rail. For +an instant the two men were locked in a swaying, bone-racking embrace. +Then Mascola felt the oak coaming pressing hard against his knees. He +was being shoved over the rail by the fury of the heavier man.</p> + +<p>Struggling in desperation, there came a gleam of hope. In the water +Gregory's superior weight would not count. Strength would not count so +much, without the weight. But a knife would count. Jerking his body +backward, he lunged downward into the sea, dragging his antagonist with +him.</p> + +<p>As Gregory and Mascola fell to the water, Dickie Lang drew her automatic +and covering the cockpit of the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> with her flash-light, +peered cautiously over the rail. Upon the floor of the launch sprawled +the figure of a man. His face was turned away from her. The gray +linoleum was <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'died'">dyed</ins> red with his blood. As she watched him, his extended +fingers twitched convulsively. He was still breathing. But<!-- Page 348 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> that was +all. Seizing the rail of the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> she began to work the +<i>Richard</i> around the hull of the other craft. She dared not start the +motor. The propeller might cut the men in the water to shreds. Reaching +the stern of Mascola's launch she directed the rays of her light into +the rippling waves.</p> + +<p>Gregory tightened his hold on Mascola's wrist as the waters closed over +his head. The Italian struggled fiercely to free his right arm as he +felt his body sinking deeper into the water. Then he noticed that his +antagonist had freed his legs and was moving them slowly upward to his +stomach.</p> + +<p>Locking his knees about Mascola's waist-line in a scissors-grip, Gregory +began to squeeze. Lashing the water with his feet the Italian jerked his +head backward and forced it against Gregory's chin. Then he freed his +left arm and the fingers slid upward to his enemy's throat.</p> + +<p>Under the steady pressure of the sturdy legs about his waist Mascola +felt his strength going from him. With bursting lungs he tore at the +corded muscles of Gregory's throat. But his fingers had but little +power. Sharp pains seared his eyeballs. A deadly numbness was creeping +over his entire body. Then he felt the hand which held his knife arm +twist the wrist and forced it inward to his body.</p> + +<p>Mascola writhed in terror. By a powerful effort he squirmed sidewise and +checked the onward course of the knife as it came nearer to his side. +The exertion sent the blood pounding to his temples, left him<!-- Page 349 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> weak with +nausea. For an instant his hold on Gregory's throat relaxed. Then his +fingers dug viciously into the flesh as he felt his wrist being crowded +closer to his body.</p> + +<p>The point of the dagger was scratching at his shirt. In another second +it would be piercing his side. Mascola knew that the blade was sharp. +The Italian released his grip on Gregory's throat. With a convulsive +shudder he dropped his knife. He was beaten. At the mercy of his enemy. +Better take chances with the courts than sure death at the hand of +Kenneth Gregory.</p> + +<p>Gregory felt the muscles of the Italian relax in a token of submission. +For an instant his heart rebelled at the turn of the battle in his +favor. Why not strangle Mascola beneath the surface? Who would ever +know? The Italian had shown his father no mercy.</p> + +<p>Why didn't Mascola fight like a man?</p> + +<p>Gregory's fingers reached the Italian's throat. The law of the sea knew +no mercy.</p> + + + +<p class="break">A feeling of utter helplessness seized Dickie Lang as she stared into +the moonlit waters. The man she loved was battling for his life beneath +the surface of the shimmering waves. And she could do nothing.</p> + +<p>"God bring him up safe." She repeated the words again and again. Then a +new fear assailed her.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory would never give up. If he came up at all there would be +blood upon his hands.<!-- Page 350 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> Justifiable blood. An eye for an eye. And yet, as +the seconds trailed endlessly by, the girl was surprised to find herself +amending her prayer.</p> + +<p>"Bring him up safe—and clean."</p> + +<p>She uttered a choking cry as the bright rays of her light fell upon +Kenneth Gregory's head. He was swimming slowly toward the launch, +dragging Mascola after him.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="./images/image-5.jpg"> +<img src="./images/image-5_th.jpg" alt="The bright rays of her light fell upon Kenneth Gregory's head" title="The bright rays of her light fell upon Kenneth Gregory's head" /> +</a></p> +<p class="figcenter">The bright rays of her light fell upon Kenneth Gregory's head</p> + +<p>"Hold his wrists."</p> + +<p>She noted the lifeless tone of Gregory's voice as she made haste to +comply with the order. Saw the fingers of the two men clutch the rail +while they waited for strength to pull their bodies from the water.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory pulled himself weakly over the coaming. In silence he +assisted the girl in dragging Mascola from the water. Huddling on the +driver's seat of the <i>Richard</i>, the Italian leaned against the dash, +fighting for breath. Gregory stumbled backward and sank to the floor of +the cockpit, covering his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>"I—failed," he gasped. "I had a chance.—But I passed it up.—I +couldn't do it."</p> + +<p>Dickie fell to her knees beside him and threw her arms about his neck. +"You're a man," she whispered, "One in a million." Then her lips found +his.</p> + +<p>Mascola watched the two shadows blend into one. Silhouetted in the +bright moonlight, he leaned against the coaming, his lips curved in a +sneering smile.</p> + +<p>From the darkened cockpit of the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i> came a bright jet of +flame. Then another. Before<!-- Page 351 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> the echoes of the two shots had died away +Mascola's body slid from the seat and fell in a heap upon the floor.</p> + +<p>Dickie drew her revolver and sprang to the rail. Sweeping the darkness +of the <i>Fuor d'Italia's</i> cockpit with the rays of her light, she drew +back.</p> + +<p>"Bandrist," she whispered to Gregory through whitening lips.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 352 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>FOR ALL THE WORLD TO KNOW</h3> + + +<p>Silvanus Rock was at the Golden Rule Fish Cannery at an early hour on +the morning following the raid upon El Diablo. When Blankovitch entered +the office, he noted at a glance that the face of the capitalist looked +drawn and worried.</p> + +<p>"Any news, Blankovitch?"</p> + +<p>The words tumbled eagerly from Rock's thick lips as he caught sight of +the ruddy countenance of the manager.</p> + +<p>Blankovitch shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Only the broken message a little before midnight," he answered. "You +got that. Gonzolez landed. That's all we know."</p> + +<p>Rock fidgeted while his eyes roved about the room. "You don't suppose +anything went wrong?" he hazarded after a moment.</p> + +<p>Blankovitch did not think so. The wireless had failed for some reason or +other. But it had done that before. He was expecting Rossi in at any +moment. There was no occasion for worry. Would Mr. Rock care for a drink +so early in the morning? The bank president gulped down the brandy, and +under the stim<!-- Page 353 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>ulus of the fiery liquor his wavering courage rallied +perceptibly.</p> + +<p>"Had a bad night," he explained. "Didn't sleep a wink. Neuralgia."</p> + +<p>The Slavonian nodded sympathetically and the two men lapsed into +silence. After some time had passed a fisherman entered.</p> + +<p>"Rossi's coming in," he announced.</p> + +<p>Rock leaped to his feet with the youthful exuberance of a schoolboy.</p> + +<p>"I feel like a new man," he confided to Blankovitch, when the messenger +had gone out. "The brandy was just what I needed. Lack of sleep surely +pulls a man down."</p> + +<p>The manager agreed and together the two men went out to the receiving +platform to await the arrival of the boat from El Diablo.</p> + +<p>When Rossi drew alongside, Rock greeted him effusively.</p> + +<p>"How is everything at the island?" he asked. "Have you plenty of fish?"</p> + +<p>The fishing captain answered the bank president's greeting with his +usual shrug.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bonne,</i>" he said shortly. "Everything's fine. I got some good fish."</p> + +<p>Rock was jubilant. His fears had been groundless. Everything was quite +all right. For had not Rossi given the accustomed signal to that effect?</p> + +<p>Blankovitch had already taken the cue.<!-- Page 354 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If his fish are first-class, we might put them up special for those A-1 +orders," he suggested.</p> + +<p>Rock nodded as he noted the stolid faces of the fishermen peering over +the rail. Rossi had his regular crew. Still, one could never be too +careful. For a moment he appeared to deliberate. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Good idea, Blankovitch, we're short on high-grade stuff."</p> + +<p>The manager moved at once to the receiving-vat and pulled the grating +over the traveling conveyer which carried the fish into the cannery. +Then he opened a valve at the bottom of the tank.</p> + +<p>"All right, Rossi," he said. "Dump them in."</p> + +<p>Rock stood by for a moment watching the fish slide into the vat. Then he +walked away in the direction of the cannery office. Passing through the +room where he had conferred with the Slavonian, he entered the manager's +private sanctuary which lay beyond and closed the door.</p> + +<p>In the far corner of the room was a small clothes-closet. To this Rock +made his way hastily, and, fitting a key in the lock, passed within, +slamming the door after him. In the darkness of the stuffy cubby-hole, +his fingers found a small flash-light in the pocket of an old vest which +hung from one of the hooks. Directing the rays of the light about him, +he worked his way through the hanging garments and reached the end of +the closet. For an instant his fingers slid along the inside wall. Then +a cool draught of air<!-- Page 355 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> fanned his face, strongly tinctured with the +smell of the mud-flats.</p> + +<p>Swinging the panel shut behind him, Silvanus Rock descended the narrow +stairway. When he reached the bottom he paused and drew his coat collar +closer about his neck. The air was damp and cold and the waters of the +bay were lapping softly against the pilings which supported the +building.</p> + +<p>Grasping the wooden rail of the gangway which led away from the bottom +of the stairs, the capitalist crept on through the darkness until he +reached the base of a big concrete storage-vat. Groping for the lock +which secured the outlet-cleaning-door of the big tank, he unlocked it +and passed within.</p> + +<p>With the water-tight door closed behind him, he switched on the electric +light. The cement floor of the vat was already partly covered with the +fish which slid downward from the receiving tanks on the platform above.</p> + +<p>Rock listened intently. But only the soft slip of the fish through the +chute and the drip of the water from the draining-table, disturbed the +silence. Then he heard the murmur of men's voices from the platform. The +valve was still open. When Blankovitch closed that, no sound would +penetrate the vat from the outside world.</p> + +<p>He turned his attention at once to the fish. Drawing one of the albacore +to one side, his fat fingers delved carefully into the fish's belly. +Then they brought forth a large aluminum capsule and laid it<!-- Page 356 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> carefully +on a tin-topped table which stood conveniently near a small +capping-machine.</p> + +<p>For some moments he repeated the operation until all the fish had been +emptied of their contents and a double row of capsules covered the +table.</p> + +<p>The albacore, he noticed suddenly, had ceased to slip through the chute. +He frowned at the observance. Surely Rossi had brought a larger cargo +than this.</p> + +<p>Walking again to the intake from the tank above, he listened. The valve +was still open. There would be more or Blankovitch would close the chute +and assist him below. Wiping his hands carefully on his handkerchief, he +walked nervously about the tank. There was nothing he could do but wait. +There would be no use to fill the cans at present or start the conveyer +to carry the empty-bellied fish to the cannery floor. Both would +necessitate the use of machinery, and even electric-driven power made +some noise.</p> + +<p>If the Slavonian was through, why didn't he close the valve and come +down? The door of the storage-vat opened suddenly and Blankovitch's +bulky figure staggered within. Rock drew back at the expression on the +Slavonian's face. All color had fled from the manager's ruddy cheeks. +His eyes were staring and his heavy jaw sagged.</p> + +<p>Then Rock noted that the door was still open. As he made haste to close +it before questioning the frightened Slavonian, he found the way blocked +by three shadowy figures who sprang upon him.</p> + +<p>"You are under arrest, Mr. Rock."<!-- Page 357 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> + +<p>Silvanus Rock wriggled vainly in the arms of the men who forced him back +into the tank. In the struggle the light fell full upon the open vest of +one of the strangers. Then Rock collapsed.</p> + +<p>For years he had suffered this nightmare. In his troubled dreams he had +seen the glittering shield of the revenue men winking at him from the +darkness. Now it was a tangible reality. He was caught with the goods +through the Slavonian's treachery. Glaring in sullen anger at his +trembling manager, he opened his mouth to speak but no word came. Then +one of the deputies who had made a cursory examination of the vat, began +to speak:</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Rock," he said, "it kind of looks like we had the man higher +up. At the point of a gun, Mr. Blankovitch showed us the way to your +little office down here. And Signor Rossi brought us all the way over +from Diablo hidden away among his fish so we could have the pleasure of +finding out where he sold his cargo. The little ride was worth as much +to him as it was to us."</p> + +<p>Turning to the man who was standing by the Slavonian, he ordered: +"Better put the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'steals'">steels</ins> on him, Jack. I'll take this one while Joe stays +down here with the stuff."</p> + + + +<p class="break">When the <i>Bennington</i> entered Crescent Bay followed by the <i>Richard</i> +towing the <i>Fuor d'Italia</i>, excitement was rife at Legonia. And as the +boats<!-- Page 358 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> came to anchor off the Golden Rule Cannery a large crowd of +curious village-folk collected on the dock.</p> + +<p>The consensus of opinion, in Silvanus Rock's absence, was expressed by +the local postmaster. There had been another fight at El Diablo and +"Uncle Sam had stepped in and 'pinched' the whole darned bunch." To that +opinion, the crowd for the most part concurred though there were some +who thought otherwise.</p> + +<p>It remained for Silvanus Rock himself to upset the truth of the +postmaster's statement. Scarcely able to credit their sight, the +villagers saw the magnate of Legonia led forth from the Golden Rule +Cannery in the custody of strangers. Strangers who spoke and acted with +an air of authority and displayed shining badges to part the crowd as +they walked with their prisoner to meet the small boat from the cutter. +Then came Blankovitch wearing hand-cuffs.</p> + +<p>It was some time before the truth leaked out through the lips of a +newspaperman who was aboard the <i>Bennington</i>. Even then there were some +who doubted.</p> + +<p>Mascola killed by Bandrist? Impossible. Bill Lang and Richard Gregory +murdered at El Diablo and Mexican Joe who had been with them, found on +the island?</p> + +<p>Silvanus Rock a smuggler? Why the very thought was absurd.</p> + +<p>But the postmaster was gifted with more sagacity. With an ear trained to +catch the slightest drift of<!-- Page 359 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> public opinion, he declaimed after hearing +all the evidence:</p> + +<p>"I ain't much surprised. Kind o' had my suspicions of old Rock all along +though I never said nothin'. But I allays did say that young Gregory was +a comin' citizen."</p> + + + +<p class="break">Purple dusk settled closely about Legonia at the close of the most +memorable day in the history of the village. For a time the streets were +deserted as the fishermen sought their homes at supper-time to retail +the latest bits of gossip which were current in the saloons.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gregory's name was upon every lip. No story was complete unless +he figured in it. The Golden Rule Cannery had been closed until further +notice. Gregory had bought all the fish brought in by the alien fleet. +His wharves were piled high with fish-boxes. His vats were full of +albacore. He was going to give everybody a chance if they "shot square" +and became American citizens. Rock and Blankovitch had been taken with +the men from Diablo Island to the jail at the county-seat. The body of +Mascola was still in the custody of the local undertaker and Bandrist +had been removed to a hospital. But of the men themselves little was +said. An era of universal friendliness prevailed throughout the village.</p> + +<p>At the Lang cottage Aunt Mary was striving vainly to assemble her guests +about the table for the evening meal.<!-- Page 360 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The biscuits will be ruined," she pleaded. "Leave the talk go. You've +all talked yourselves half-sick now."</p> + +<p>Jack McCoy protested as Miss Lang led him to the table.</p> + +<p>"Remember, I wasn't there," he said. "And I've got a lot to find out +before I get caught up."</p> + +<p>Hawkins slid into a chair by McCoy.</p> + +<p>"Well that's about all there is to it, Mac," he said. "Except that the +<i>Gray Ghost</i> made a clean get-away in the fog. You see the Custom House +has been wise to her for a long time but they never could catch her with +the goods. For some time there has been a lot of dope floating around in +tuna cans so they kind of laid it to some fish cannery. In talking it +over with Cap. I began to look this fellow, Rock, up. And I found among +other things, that he didn't have a dollar until a few years ago. He +made his money quick, and as far as we knew, right here in town. Then, +this Diablo stuff gave me a hunch."</p> + +<p>Gregory looked up quickly at the mention of the island.</p> + +<p>"Easy on the Diablo stuff, Bill," he cautioned. "Aunt Mary doesn't know +much about that."</p> + +<p>When supper was over, Jack McCoy rose hastily.</p> + +<p>"I must be getting back," he said. "We have a big night-shift and fish +to burn. And they will burn unless I'm on the job."</p> + +<p>Gregory followed him to the door.<!-- Page 361 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll be down pretty quick, Jack," he said. "I want to see Miss Lang a +minute before I go."</p> + +<p>A crooked little smile twisted the corners of McCoy's mouth and for a +moment he looked deep into Gregory's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I suppose congratulations are in order," he began somewhat uncertainly, +and seeing that Gregory made no denial, he put out his hand. "I hope +you'll both be happy," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>Then he turned quickly and hurried out the door. Hawkins hurried after +him.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll go down with McCoy," he explained. "I want to keep near a +phone." Then he turned to Aunt Mary. "In to-morrow's <i>Times</i> you'll get +the latest details of the secret of El Diablo," he said as he bade her +good night.</p> + +<p>When Hawkins had gone out and Aunt Mary had retired to the kitchen, +Gregory exclaimed to Dickie Lang in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"There's one secret she won't get in <i>The Times</i>. She won't have to wait +that long. For I'm going to tell her now."</p> + +<p>"You'd better not," answered the girl. "You would have to shout. She's +unusually deaf to-night. All the neighbors would hear."</p> + +<p>"That's what I want," Gregory cried as he walked to the kitchen with +Dickie following close behind.</p> + +<p>In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet he took the girl in his +arms.<!-- Page 362 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's the only secret I'd never be able to keep," he confessed. "And I +want the whole world to hear it."</p> + +<p>Pushing aside the swinging-door, he went into the kitchen to tell Aunt +Mary.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="./images/image-6.jpg"> +<img src="./images/image-6_th.jpg" alt="In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet" title="In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet" /> +</a></p> +<p class="figcenter">In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The End</span></p> + +<div id="tnote"><h4>Transcriber's Notes</h4> Illustrations (excepting frontispiece) have been +moved from their original page locations to the paragraph which they +illustrate.<br /><br />Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected and hyphen +usage made consistent. Printer errors have been changed, and they are indicated with +<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: this is an example note">a +mouse-hover</ins>. Errors in foreign language spelling (<i>Gracious a Dios</i> +and <i>Sangre de Christo</i>) have been retained.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Diablo, by Brayton Norton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DIABLO *** + +***** This file should be named 28022-h.htm or 28022-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/0/2/28022/ + +Produced by David Clarke, Erica Pfister-Altschul and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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