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diff --git a/911-0.txt b/911-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16192f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/911-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3699 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Tales of the Fish Patrol, by Jack London + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Tales of the Fish Patrol + + +Author: Jack London + + + +Release Date: March 25, 2015 [eBook #911] +[This file was first posted on March 22, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FISH PATROL*** + + +Transcribed from the 1914 William Heinemann edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Book cover] + + [Picture: “Now will you keep off?” he demanded] + + + + + + Tales of the + Fish Patrol + + + By + Jack London + Author of “Burning Daylight,” etc. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic] + + London + William Heinemann + 1914 + + + + +WHITE AND YELLOW + + +SAN FRANCISCO BAY is so large that often its storms are more disastrous +to ocean-going craft than is the ocean itself in its violent moments. +The waters of the bay contain all manner of fish, wherefore its surface +is ploughed by the keels of all manner of fishing boats manned by all +manner of fishermen. To protect the fish from this motley floating +population many wise laws have been passed, and there is a fish patrol to +see that these laws are enforced. Exciting times are the lot of the fish +patrol: in its history more than one dead patrolman has marked defeat, +and more often dead fishermen across their illegal nets have marked +success. + +Wildest among the fisher-folk may be accounted the Chinese +shrimp-catchers. It is the habit of the shrimp to crawl along the bottom +in vast armies till it reaches fresh water, when it turns about and +crawls back again to the salt. And where the tide ebbs and flows, the +Chinese sink great bag-nets to the bottom, with gaping mouths, into which +the shrimp crawls and from which it is transferred to the boiling-pot. +This in itself would not be bad, were it not for the small mesh of the +nets, so small that the tiniest fishes, little new-hatched things not a +quarter of an inch long, cannot pass through. The beautiful beaches of +Points Pedro and Pablo, where are the shrimp-catchers’ villages, are made +fearful by the stench from myriads of decaying fish, and against this +wasteful destruction it has ever been the duty of the fish patrol to act. + +When I was a youngster of sixteen, a good sloop-sailor and all-round +bay-waterman, my sloop, the _Reindeer_, was chartered by the Fish +Commission, and I became for the time being a deputy patrolman. After a +deal of work among the Greek fishermen of the Upper Bay and rivers, where +knives flashed at the beginning of trouble and men permitted themselves +to be made prisoners only after a revolver was thrust in their faces, we +hailed with delight an expedition to the Lower Bay against the Chinese +shrimp-catchers. + +There were six of us, in two boats, and to avoid suspicion we ran down +after dark and dropped anchor under a projecting bluff of land known as +Point Pinole. As the east paled with the first light of dawn we got +under way again, and hauled close on the land breeze as we slanted across +the bay toward Point Pedro. The morning mists curled and clung to the +water so that we could see nothing, but we busied ourselves driving the +chill from our bodies with hot coffee. Also we had to devote ourselves +to the miserable task of bailing, for in some incomprehensible way the +_Reindeer_ had sprung a generous leak. Half the night had been spent in +overhauling the ballast and exploring the seams, but the labor had been +without avail. The water still poured in, and perforce we doubled up in +the cockpit and tossed it out again. + +After coffee, three of the men withdrew to the other boat, a Columbia +River salmon boat, leaving three of us in the _Reindeer_. Then the two +craft proceeded in company till the sun showed over the eastern sky-line. +Its fiery rays dispelled the clinging vapors, and there, before our eyes, +like a picture, lay the shrimp fleet, spread out in a great half-moon, +the tips of the crescent fully three miles apart, and each junk moored +fast to the buoy of a shrimp-net. But there was no stir, no sign of +life. + +The situation dawned upon us. While waiting for slack water, in which to +lift their heavy nets from the bed of the bay, the Chinese had all gone +to sleep below. We were elated, and our plan of battle was swiftly +formed. + +“Throw each of your two men on to a junk,” whispered Le Grant to me from +the salmon boat. “And you make fast to a third yourself. We’ll do the +same, and there’s no reason in the world why we shouldn’t capture six +junks at the least.” + +Then we separated. I put the _Reindeer_ about on the other tack, ran up +under the lee of a junk, shivered the mainsail into the wind and lost +headway, and forged past the stern of the junk so slowly and so near that +one of the patrolmen stepped lightly aboard. Then I kept off, filled the +mainsail, and bore away for a second junk. + +Up to this time there had been no noise, but from the first junk captured +by the salmon boat an uproar now broke forth. There was shrill Oriental +yelling, a pistol shot, and more yelling. + +“It’s all up. They’re warning the others,” said George, the remaining +patrolman, as he stood beside me in the cockpit. + +By this time we were in the thick of the fleet, and the alarm was +spreading with incredible swiftness. The decks were beginning to swarm +with half-awakened and half-naked Chinese. Cries and yells of warning +and anger were flying over the quiet water, and somewhere a conch shell +was being blown with great success. To the right of us I saw the captain +of a junk chop away his mooring line with an axe and spring to help his +crew at the hoisting of the huge, outlandish lug-sail. But to the left +the first heads were popping up from below on another junk, and I rounded +up the _Reindeer_ alongside long enough for George to spring aboard. + +The whole fleet was now under way. In addition to the sails they had +gotten out long sweeps, and the bay was being ploughed in every direction +by the fleeing junks. I was now alone in the _Reindeer_, seeking +feverishly to capture a third prize. The first junk I took after was a +clean miss, for it trimmed its sheets and shot away surprisingly into the +wind. By fully half a point it outpointed the _Reindeer_, and I began to +feel respect for the clumsy craft. Realizing the hopelessness of the +pursuit, I filled away, threw out the main-sheet, and drove down before +the wind upon the junks to leeward, where I had them at a disadvantage. + +The one I had selected wavered indecisively before me, and, as I swung +wide to make the boarding gentle, filled suddenly and darted away, the +smart Mongols shouting a wild rhythm as they bent to the sweeps. But I +had been ready for this. I luffed suddenly. Putting the tiller hard +down, and holding it down with my body, I brought the main-sheet in, hand +over hand, on the run, so as to retain all possible striking force. The +two starboard sweeps of the junk were crumpled up, and then the two boats +came together with a crash. The _Reindeer’s_ bowsprit, like a monstrous +hand, reached over and ripped out the junk’s chunky mast and towering +sail. + +This was met by a curdling yell of rage. A big Chinaman, remarkably +evil-looking, with his head swathed in a yellow silk handkerchief and +face badly pock-marked, planted a pike-pole on the _Reindeer’s_ bow and +began to shove the entangled boats apart. Pausing long enough to let go +the jib halyards, and just as the _Reindeer_ cleared and began to drift +astern, I leaped aboard the junk with a line and made fast. He of the +yellow handkerchief and pock-marked face came toward me threateningly, +but I put my hand into my hip pocket, and he hesitated. I was unarmed, +but the Chinese have learned to be fastidiously careful of American hip +pockets, and it was upon this that I depended to keep him and his savage +crew at a distance. + +I ordered him to drop the anchor at the junk’s bow, to which he replied, +“No sabbe.” The crew responded in like fashion, and though I made my +meaning plain by signs, they refused to understand. Realizing the +inexpediency of discussing the matter, I went forward myself, overran the +line, and let the anchor go. + +“Now get aboard, four of you,” I said in a loud voice, indicating with my +fingers that four of them were to go with me and the fifth was to remain +by the junk. The Yellow Handkerchief hesitated; but I repeated the order +fiercely (much more fiercely than I felt), at the same time sending my +hand to my hip. Again the Yellow Handkerchief was overawed, and with +surly looks he led three of his men aboard the _Reindeer_. I cast off at +once, and, leaving the jib down, steered a course for George’s junk. +Here it was easier, for there were two of us, and George had a pistol to +fall back on if it came to the worst. And here, as with my junk, four +Chinese were transferred to the sloop and one left behind to take care of +things. + +Four more were added to our passenger list from the third junk. By this +time the salmon boat had collected its twelve prisoners and came +alongside, badly overloaded. To make matters worse, as it was a small +boat, the patrolmen were so jammed in with their prisoners that they +would have little chance in case of trouble. + +“You’ll have to help us out,” said Le Grant. + +I looked over my prisoners, who had crowded into the cabin and on top of +it. “I can take three,” I answered. + +“Make it four,” he suggested, “and I’ll take Bill with me.” (Bill was +the third patrolman.) “We haven’t elbow room here, and in case of a +scuffle one white to every two of them will be just about the right +proportion.” + +The exchange was made, and the salmon boat got up its spritsail and +headed down the bay toward the marshes off San Rafael. I ran up the jib +and followed with the _Reindeer_. San Rafael, where we were to turn our +catch over to the authorities, communicated with the bay by way of a long +and tortuous slough, or marshland creek, which could be navigated only +when the tide was in. Slack water had come, and, as the ebb was +commencing, there was need for hurry if we cared to escape waiting half a +day for the next tide. + +But the land breeze had begun to die away with the rising sun, and now +came only in failing puffs. The salmon boat got out its oars and soon +left us far astern. Some of the Chinese stood in the forward part of the +cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as I leaned over the cockpit +rail to flatten down the jib-sheet a bit, I felt some one brush against +my hip pocket. I made no sign, but out of the corner of my eye I saw +that the Yellow Handkerchief had discovered the emptiness of the pocket +which had hitherto overawed him. + +To make matters serious, during all the excitement of boarding the junks +the _Reindeer_ had not been bailed, and the water was beginning to slush +over the cockpit floor. The shrimp-catchers pointed at it and looked to +me questioningly. + +“Yes,” I said. “Bime by, allee same dlown, velly quick, you no bail now. +Sabbe?” + +No, they did not “sabbe,” or at least they shook their heads to that +effect, though they chattered most comprehendingly to one another in +their own lingo. I pulled up three or four of the bottom boards, got a +couple of buckets from a locker, and by unmistakable sign-language +invited them to fall to. But they laughed, and some crowded into the +cabin and some climbed up on top. + +Their laughter was not good laughter. There was a hint of menace in it, +a maliciousness which their black looks verified. The Yellow +Handkerchief, since his discovery of my empty pocket, had become most +insolent in his bearing, and he wormed about among the other prisoners, +talking to them with great earnestness. + +Swallowing my chagrin, I stepped down into the cockpit and began throwing +out the water. But hardly had I begun, when the boom swung overhead, the +mainsail filled with a jerk, and the _Reindeer_ heeled over. The day +wind was springing up. George was the veriest of landlubbers, so I was +forced to give over bailing and take the tiller. The wind was blowing +directly off Point Pedro and the high mountains behind, and because of +this was squally and uncertain, half the time bellying the canvas out and +the other half flapping it idly. + +George was about the most all-round helpless man I had ever met. Among +his other disabilities, he was a consumptive, and I knew that if he +attempted to bail, it might bring on a hemorrhage. Yet the rising water +warned me that something must be done. Again I ordered the +shrimp-catchers to lend a hand with the buckets. They laughed defiantly, +and those inside the cabin, the water up to their ankles, shouted back +and forth with those on top. + +“You’d better get out your gun and make them bail,” I said to George. + +But he shook his head and showed all too plainly that he was afraid. The +Chinese could see the funk he was in as well as I could, and their +insolence became insufferable. Those in the cabin broke into the food +lockers, and those above scrambled down and joined them in a feast on our +crackers and canned goods. + +“What do we care?” George said weakly. + +I was fuming with helpless anger. “If they get out of hand, it will be +too late to care. The best thing you can do is to get them in check +right now.” + +The water was rising higher and higher, and the gusts, forerunners of a +steady breeze, were growing stiffer and stiffer. And between the gusts, +the prisoners, having gotten away with a week’s grub, took to crowding +first to one side and then to the other till the _Reindeer_ rocked like a +cockle-shell. Yellow Handkerchief approached me, and, pointing out his +village on the Point Pedro beach, gave me to understand that if I turned +the _Reindeer_ in that direction and put them ashore, they, in turn, +would go to bailing. By now the water in the cabin was up to the bunks, +and the bed-clothes were sopping. It was a foot deep on the cockpit +floor. Nevertheless I refused, and I could see by George’s face that he +was disappointed. + +“If you don’t show some nerve, they’ll rush us and throw us overboard,” I +said to him. “Better give me your revolver, if you want to be safe.” + +“The safest thing to do,” he chattered cravenly, “is to put them ashore. +I, for one, don’t want to be drowned for the sake of a handful of dirty +Chinamen.” + +“And I, for another, don’t care to give in to a handful of dirty Chinamen +to escape drowning,” I answered hotly. + +“You’ll sink the _Reindeer_ under us all at this rate,” he whined. “And +what good that’ll do I can’t see.” + +“Every man to his taste,” I retorted. + +He made no reply, but I could see he was trembling pitifully. Between +the threatening Chinese and the rising water he was beside himself with +fright; and, more than the Chinese and the water, I feared him and what +his fright might impel him to do. I could see him casting longing +glances at the small skiff towing astern, so in the next calm I hauled +the skiff alongside. As I did so his eyes brightened with hope; but +before he could guess my intention, I stove the frail bottom through with +a hand-axe, and the skiff filled to its gunwales. + +“It’s sink or float together,” I said. “And if you’ll give me your +revolver, I’ll have the _Reindeer_ bailed out in a jiffy.” + +“They’re too many for us,” he whimpered. “We can’t fight them all.” + +I turned my back on him in disgust. The salmon boat had long since +passed from sight behind a little archipelago known as the Marin Islands, +so no help could be looked for from that quarter. Yellow Handkerchief +came up to me in a familiar manner, the water in the cockpit slushing +against his legs. I did not like his looks. I felt that beneath the +pleasant smile he was trying to put on his face there was an ill purpose. +I ordered him back, and so sharply that he obeyed. + +“Now keep your distance,” I commanded, “and don’t you come closer!” + +“Wha’ fo’?” he demanded indignantly. “I t’ink-um talkee talkee heap +good.” + +“Talkee talkee,” I answered bitterly, for I knew now that he had +understood all that passed between George and me. “What for talkee +talkee? You no sabbe talkee talkee.” + +He grinned in a sickly fashion. “Yep, I sabbe velly much. I honest +Chinaman.” + +“All right,” I answered. “You sabbe talkee talkee, then you bail water +plenty plenty. After that we talkee talkee.” + +He shook his head, at the same time pointing over his shoulder to his +comrades. “No can do. Velly bad Chinamen, heap velly bad. I t’ink-um—” + +“Stand back!” I shouted, for I had noticed his hand disappear beneath his +blouse and his body prepare for a spring. + +Disconcerted, he went back into the cabin, to hold a council, apparently, +from the way the jabbering broke forth. The _Reindeer_ was very deep in +the water, and her movements had grown quite loggy. In a rough sea she +would have inevitably swamped; but the wind, when it did blow, was off +the land, and scarcely a ripple disturbed the surface of the bay. + +“I think you’d better head for the beach,” George said abruptly, in a +manner that told me his fear had forced him to make up his mind to some +course of action. + +“I think not,” I answered shortly. + +“I command you,” he said in a bullying tone. + +“I was commanded to bring these prisoners into San Rafael,” was my reply. + +Our voices were raised, and the sound of the altercation brought the +Chinese out of the cabin. + +“Now will you head for the beach?” + +This from George, and I found myself looking into the muzzle of his +revolver—of the revolver he dared to use on me, but was too cowardly to +use on the prisoners. + +My brain seemed smitten with a dazzling brightness. The whole situation, +in all its bearings, was focussed sharply before me—the shame of losing +the prisoners, the worthlessness and cowardice of George, the meeting +with Le Grant and the other patrol men and the lame explanation; and then +there was the fight I had fought so hard, victory wrenched from me just +as I thought I had it within my grasp. And out of the tail of my eye I +could see the Chinese crowding together by the cabin doors and leering +triumphantly. It would never do. + +I threw my hand up and my head down. The first act elevated the muzzle, +and the second removed my head from the path of the bullet which went +whistling past. One hand closed on George’s wrist, the other on the +revolver. Yellow Handkerchief and his gang sprang toward me. It was now +or never. Putting all my strength into a sudden effort, I swung George’s +body forward to meet them. Then I pulled back with equal suddenness, +ripping the revolver out of his fingers and jerking him off his feet. He +fell against Yellow Handkerchief’s knees, who stumbled over him, and the +pair wallowed in the bailing hole where the cockpit floor was torn open. +The next instant I was covering them with my revolver, and the wild +shrimp-catchers were cowering and cringing away. + +But I swiftly discovered that there was all the difference in the world +between shooting men who are attacking and men who are doing nothing more +than simply refusing to obey. For obey they would not when I ordered +them into the bailing hole. I threatened them with the revolver, but +they sat stolidly in the flooded cabin and on the roof and would not +move. + +Fifteen minutes passed, the _Reindeer_ sinking deeper and deeper, her +mainsail flapping in the calm. But from off the Point Pedro shore I saw +a dark line form on the water and travel toward us. It was the steady +breeze I had been expecting so long. I called to the Chinese and pointed +it out. They hailed it with exclamations. Then I pointed to the sail +and to the water in the _Reindeer_, and indicated by signs that when the +wind reached the sail, what of the water aboard we would capsize. But +they jeered defiantly, for they knew it was in my power to luff the helm +and let go the main-sheet, so as to spill the wind and escape damage. + +But my mind was made up. I hauled in the main-sheet a foot or two, took +a turn with it, and bracing my feet, put my back against the tiller. +This left me one hand for the sheet and one for the revolver. The dark +line drew nearer, and I could see them looking from me to it and back +again with an apprehension they could not successfully conceal. My brain +and will and endurance were pitted against theirs, and the problem was +which could stand the strain of imminent death the longer and not give +in. + +Then the wind struck us. The main-sheet tautened with a brisk rattling +of the blocks, the boom uplifted, the sail bellied out, and the +_Reindeer_ heeled over—over, and over, till the lee-rail went under, the +cabin windows went under, and the bay began to pour in over the cockpit +rail. So violently had she heeled over, that the men in the cabin had +been thrown on top of one another into the lee bunk, where they squirmed +and twisted and were washed about, those underneath being perilously near +to drowning. + +The wind freshened a bit, and the _Reindeer_ went over farther than ever. +For the moment I thought she was gone, and I knew that another puff like +that and she surely would go. While I pressed her under and debated +whether I should give up or not, the Chinese cried for mercy. I think it +was the sweetest sound I have ever heard. And then, and not until then, +did I luff up and ease out the main-sheet. The _Reindeer_ righted very +slowly, and when she was on an even keel was so much awash that I doubted +if she could be saved. + +But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell to bailing with +buckets, pots, pans, and everything they could lay hands on. It was a +beautiful sight to see that water flying over the side! And when the +_Reindeer_ was high and proud on the water once more, we dashed away with +the breeze on our quarter, and at the last possible moment crossed the +mud flats and entered the slough. + +The spirit of the Chinese was broken, and so docile did they become that +ere we made San Rafael they were out with the tow-rope, Yellow +Handkerchief at the head of the line. As for George, it was his last +trip with the fish patrol. He did not care for that sort of thing, he +explained, and he thought a clerkship ashore was good enough for him. +And we thought so too. + + + + +THE KING OF THE GREEKS + + +BIG ALEC had never been captured by the fish patrol. It was his boast +that no man could take him alive, and it was his history that of the many +men who had tried to take him dead none had succeeded. It was also +history that at least two patrolmen who had tried to take him dead had +died themselves. Further, no man violated the fish laws more +systematically and deliberately than Big Alec. + +He was called “Big Alec” because of his gigantic stature. His height was +six feet three inches, and he was correspondingly broad-shouldered and +deep-chested. He was splendidly muscled and hard as steel, and there +were innumerable stories in circulation among the fisher-folk concerning +his prodigious strength. He was as bold and dominant of spirit as he was +strong of body, and because of this he was widely known by another name, +that of “The King of the Greeks.” The fishing population was largely +composed of Greeks, and they looked up to him and obeyed him as their +chief. And as their chief, he fought their fights for them, saw that +they were protected, saved them from the law when they fell into its +clutches, and made them stand by one another and himself in time of +trouble. + +In the old days, the fish patrol had attempted his capture many +disastrous times and had finally given it over, so that when the word was +out that he was coming to Benicia, I was most anxious to see him. But I +did not have to hunt him up. In his usual bold way, the first thing he +did on arriving was to hunt us up. Charley Le Grant and I at the time +were under a patrolman named Carmintel, and the three of us were on the +_Reindeer_, preparing for a trip, when Big Alec stepped aboard. +Carmintel evidently knew him, for they shook hands in recognition. Big +Alec took no notice of Charley or me. + +“I’ve come down to fish sturgeon a couple of months,” he said to +Carmintel. + +His eyes flashed with challenge as he spoke, and we noticed the +patrolman’s eyes drop before him. + +“That’s all right, Alec,” Carmintel said in a low voice. “I’ll not +bother you. Come on into the cabin, and we’ll talk things over,” he +added. + +When they had gone inside and shut the doors after them, Charley winked +with slow deliberation at me. But I was only a youngster, and new to men +and the ways of some men, so I did not understand. Nor did Charley +explain, though I felt there was something wrong about the business. + +Leaving them to their conference, at Charley’s suggestion we boarded our +skiff and pulled over to the Old Steamboat Wharf, where Big Alec’s ark +was lying. An ark is a house-boat of small though comfortable +dimensions, and is as necessary to the Upper Bay fisherman as are nets +and boats. We were both curious to see Big Alec’s ark, for history said +that it had been the scene of more than one pitched battle, and that it +was riddled with bullet-holes. + +We found the holes (stopped with wooden plugs and painted over), but +there were not so many as I had expected. Charley noted my look of +disappointment, and laughed; and then to comfort me he gave an authentic +account of one expedition which had descended upon Big Alec’s floating +home to capture him, alive preferably, dead if necessary. At the end of +half a day’s fighting, the patrolmen had drawn off in wrecked boats, with +one of their number killed and three wounded. And when they returned +next morning with reinforcements they found only the mooring-stakes of +Big Alec’s ark; the ark itself remained hidden for months in the +fastnesses of the Suisun tules. + +“But why was he not hanged for murder?” I demanded. “Surely the United +States is powerful enough to bring such a man to justice.” + +“He gave himself up and stood trial,” Charley answered. “It cost him +fifty thousand dollars to win the case, which he did on technicalities +and with the aid of the best lawyers in the state. Every Greek fisherman +on the river contributed to the sum. Big Alec levied and collected the +tax, for all the world like a king. The United States may be +all-powerful, my lad, but the fact remains that Big Alec is a king inside +the United States, with a country and subjects all his own.” + +“But what are you going to do about his fishing for sturgeon? He’s bound +to fish with a ‘Chinese line.’” + +Charley shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll see what we will see,” he said +enigmatically. + +Now a “Chinese line” is a cunning device invented by the people whose +name it bears. By a simple system of floats, weights, and anchors, +thousands of hooks, each on a separate leader, are suspended at a +distance of from six inches to a foot above the bottom. The remarkable +thing about such a line is the hook. It is barbless, and in place of the +barb, the hook is filed long and tapering to a point as sharp as that of +a needle. These hoods are only a few inches apart, and when several +thousand of them are suspended just above the bottom, like a fringe, for +a couple of hundred fathoms, they present a formidable obstacle to the +fish that travel along the bottom. + +Such a fish is the sturgeon, which goes rooting along like a pig, and +indeed is often called “pig-fish.” Pricked by the first hook it touches, +the sturgeon gives a startled leap and comes into contact with half a +dozen more hooks. Then it threshes about wildly, until it receives hook +after hook in its soft flesh; and the hooks, straining from many +different angles, hold the luckless fish fast until it is drowned. +Because no sturgeon can pass through a Chinese line, the device is called +a trap in the fish laws; and because it bids fair to exterminate the +sturgeon, it is branded by the fish laws as illegal. And such a line, we +were confident, Big Alec intended setting, in open and flagrant violation +of the law. + +Several days passed after the visit of Big Alec, during which Charley and +I kept a sharp watch on him. He towed his ark around the Solano Wharf +and into the big bight at Turner’s Shipyard. The bight we knew to be +good ground for sturgeon, and there we felt sure the King of the Greeks +intended to begin operations. The tide circled like a mill-race in and +out of this bight, and made it possible to raise, lower, or set a Chinese +line only at slack water. So between the tides Charley and I made it a +point for one or the other of us to keep a lookout from the Solano Wharf. + +On the fourth day I was lying in the sun behind the stringer-piece of the +wharf, when I saw a skiff leave the distant shore and pull out into the +bight. In an instant the glasses were at my eyes and I was following +every movement of the skiff. There were two men in it, and though it was +a good mile away, I made out one of them to be Big Alec; and ere the +skiff returned to shore I made out enough more to know that the Greek had +set his line. + +“Big Alec has a Chinese line out in the bight off Turner’s Shipyard,” +Charley Le Grant said that afternoon to Carmintel. + +A fleeting expression of annoyance passed over the patrolman’s face, and +then he said, “Yes?” in an absent way, and that was all. + +Charley bit his lip with suppressed anger and turned on his heel. + +“Are you game, my lad?” he said to me later on in the evening, just as we +finished washing down the _Reindeer’s_ decks and were preparing to turn +in. + +A lump came up in my throat, and I could only nod my head. + +“Well, then,” and Charley’s eyes glittered in a determined way, “we’ve +got to capture Big Alec between us, you and I, and we’ve got to do it in +spite of Carmintel. Will you lend a hand?” + +“It’s a hard proposition, but we can do it,” he added after a pause. + +“Of course we can,” I supplemented enthusiastically. + +And then he said, “Of course we can,” and we shook hands on it and went +to bed. + +But it was no easy task we had set ourselves. In order to convict a man +of illegal fishing, it was necessary to catch him in the act with all the +evidence of the crime about him—the hooks, the lines, the fish, and the +man himself. This meant that we must take Big Alec on the open water, +where he could see us coming and prepare for us one of the warm +receptions for which he was noted. + +“There’s no getting around it,” Charley said one morning. “If we can +only get alongside it’s an even toss, and there’s nothing left for us but +to try and get alongside. Come on, lad.” + +We were in the Columbia River salmon boat, the one we had used against +the Chinese shrimp-catchers. Slack water had come, and as we dropped +around the end of the Solano Wharf we saw Big Alec at work, running his +line and removing the fish. + +“Change places,” Charley commanded, “and steer just astern of him as +though you’re going into the shipyard.” + +I took the tiller, and Charley sat down on a thwart amidships, placing +his revolver handily beside him. + +“If he begins to shoot,” he cautioned, “get down in the bottom and steer +from there, so that nothing more than your hand will be exposed.” + +I nodded, and we kept silent after that, the boat slipping gently through +the water and Big Alec growing nearer and nearer. We could see him quite +plainly, gaffing the sturgeon and throwing them into the boat while his +companion ran the line and cleared the hooks as he dropped them back into +the water. Nevertheless, we were five hundred yards away when the big +fisherman hailed us. + +“Here! You! What do you want?” he shouted. + +“Keep going,” Charley whispered, “just as though you didn’t hear him.” + +The next few moments were very anxious ones. The fisherman was studying +us sharply, while we were gliding up on him every second. + +“You keep off if you know what’s good for you!” he called out suddenly, +as though he had made up his mind as to who and what we were. “If you +don’t, I’ll fix you!” + +He brought a rifle to his shoulder and trained it on me. + +“Now will you keep off?” he demanded. + +I could hear Charley groan with disappointment. “Keep off,” he +whispered; “it’s all up for this time.” + +I put up the tiller and eased the sheet, and the salmon boat ran off five +or six points. Big Alec watched us till we were out of range, when he +returned to his work. + +“You’d better leave Big Alec alone,” Carmintel said, rather sourly, to +Charley that night. + +“So he’s been complaining to you, has he?” Charley said significantly. + +Carmintel flushed painfully. “You’d better leave him alone, I tell you,” +he repeated. “He’s a dangerous man, and it won’t pay to fool with him.” + +“Yes,” Charley answered softly; “I’ve heard that it pays better to leave +him alone.” + +This was a direct thrust at Carmintel, and we could see by the expression +of his face that it sank home. For it was common knowledge that Big Alec +was as willing to bribe as to fight, and that of late years more than one +patrolman had handled the fisherman’s money. + +“Do you mean to say—” Carmintel began, in a bullying tone. + +But Charley cut him off shortly. “I mean to say nothing,” he said. “You +heard what I said, and if the cap fits, why—” + +He shrugged his shoulders, and Carmintel glowered at him, speechless. + +“What we want is imagination,” Charley said to me one day, when we had +attempted to creep upon Big Alec in the gray of dawn and had been shot at +for our trouble. + +And thereafter, and for many days, I cudgelled my brains trying to +imagine some possible way by which two men, on an open stretch of water, +could capture another who knew how to use a rifle and was never to be +found without one. Regularly, every slack water, without slyness, boldly +and openly in the broad day, Big Alec was to be seen running his line. +And what made it particularly exasperating was the fact that every +fisherman, from Benicia to Vallejo knew that he was successfully defying +us. Carmintel also bothered us, for he kept us busy among the +shad-fishers of San Pablo, so that we had little time to spare on the +King of the Greeks. But Charley’s wife and children lived at Benicia, +and we had made the place our headquarters, so that we always returned to +it. + +“I’ll tell you what we can do,” I said, after several fruitless weeks had +passed; “we can wait some slack water till Big Alec has run his line and +gone ashore with the fish, and then we can go out and capture the line. +It will put him to time and expense to make another, and then we’ll +figure to capture that too. If we can’t capture him, we can discourage +him, you see.” + +Charley saw, and said it wasn’t a bad idea. We watched our chance, and +the next low-water slack, after Big Alec had removed the fish from the +line and returned ashore, we went out in the salmon boat. We had the +bearings of the line from shore marks, and we knew we would have no +difficulty in locating it. The first of the flood tide was setting in, +when we ran below where we thought the line was stretched and dropped +over a fishing-boat anchor. Keeping a short rope to the anchor, so that +it barely touched the bottom, we dragged it slowly along until it stuck +and the boat fetched up hard and fast. + +“We’ve got it,” Charley cried. “Come on and lend a hand to get it in.” + +Together we hove up the rope till the anchor I came in sight with the +sturgeon line caught across one of the flukes. Scores of the +murderous-looking hooks flashed into sight as we cleared the anchor, and +we had just started to run along the line to the end where we could begin +to lift it, when a sharp thud in the boat startled us. We looked about, +but saw nothing and returned to our work. An instant later there was a +similar sharp thud and the gunwale splintered between Charley’s body and +mine. + +“That’s remarkably like a bullet, lad,” he said reflectively. “And it’s +a long shot Big Alec’s making.” + +“And he’s using smokeless powder,” he concluded, after an examination of +the mile-distant shore. “That’s why we can’t hear the report.” + +I looked at the shore, but could see no sign of Big Alec, who was +undoubtedly hidden in some rocky nook with us at his mercy. A third +bullet struck the water, glanced, passed singing over our heads, and +struck the water again beyond. + +“I guess we’d better get out of this,” Charley remarked coolly. “What do +you think, lad?” + +I thought so, too, and said we didn’t want the line anyway. Whereupon we +cast off and hoisted the spritsail. The bullets ceased at once, and we +sailed away, unpleasantly confident that Big Alec was laughing at our +discomfiture. + +And more than that, the next day on the fishing wharf, where we were +inspecting nets, he saw fit to laugh and sneer at us, and this before all +the fishermen. Charley’s face went black with anger; but beyond +promising Big Alec that in the end he would surely land him behind the +bars, he controlled himself and said nothing. The King of the Greeks +made his boast that no fish patrol had ever taken him or ever could take +him, and the fishermen cheered him and said it was true. They grew +excited, and it looked like trouble for a while; but Big Alec asserted +his kingship and quelled them. + +Carmintel also laughed at Charley, and dropped sarcastic remarks, and +made it hard for him. But Charley refused to be angered, though he told +me in confidence that he intended to capture Big Alec if it took all the +rest of his life to accomplish it. + +“I don’t know how I’ll do it,” he said, “but do it I will, as sure as I +am Charley Le Grant. The idea will come to me at the right and proper +time, never fear.” + +And at the right time it came, and most unexpectedly. Fully a month had +passed, and we were constantly up and down the river, and down and up the +bay, with no spare moments to devote to the particular fisherman who ran +a Chinese line in the bight of Turner’s Shipyard. We had called in at +Selby’s Smelter one afternoon, while on patrol work, when all unknown to +us our opportunity happened along. It appeared in the guise of a +helpless yacht loaded with seasick people, so we could hardly be expected +to recognize it as the opportunity. It was a large sloop-yacht, and it +was helpless inasmuch as the trade-wind was blowing half a gale and there +were no capable sailors aboard. + +From the wharf at Selby’s we watched with careless interest the lubberly +manœuvre performed of bringing the yacht to anchor, and the equally +lubberly manœuvre of sending the small boat ashore. A very +miserable-looking man in draggled ducks, after nearly swamping the boat +in the heavy seas, passed us the painter and climbed out. He staggered +about as though the wharf were rolling, and told us his troubles, which +were the troubles of the yacht. The only rough-weather sailor aboard, +the man on whom they all depended, had been called back to San Francisco +by a telegram, and they had attempted to continue the cruise alone. The +high wind and big seas of San Pablo Bay had been too much for them; all +hands were sick, nobody knew anything or could do anything; and so they +had run in to the smelter either to desert the yacht or to get somebody +to bring it to Benicia. In short, did we know of any sailors who would +bring the yacht into Benicia? + +Charley looked at me. The _Reindeer_ was lying in a snug place. We had +nothing on hand in the way of patrol work till midnight. With the wind +then blowing, we could sail the yacht into Benicia in a couple of hours, +have several more hours ashore, and come back to the smelter on the +evening train. + +“All right, captain,” Charley said to the disconsolate yachtsman, who +smiled in sickly fashion at the title. + +“I’m only the owner,” he explained. + +We rowed him aboard in much better style than he had come ashore, and saw +for ourselves the helplessness of the passengers. There were a dozen men +and women, and all of them too sick even to appear grateful at our +coming. The yacht was rolling savagely, broad on, and no sooner had the +owner’s feet touched the deck than he collapsed and joined, the others. +Not one was able to bear a hand, so Charley and I between us cleared the +badly tangled running gear, got up sail, and hoisted anchor. + +It was a rough trip, though a swift one. The Carquinez Straits were a +welter of foam and smother, and we came through them wildly before the +wind, the big mainsail alternately dipping and flinging its boom skyward +as we tore along. But the people did not mind. They did not mind +anything. Two or three, including the owner, sprawled in the cockpit, +shuddering when the yacht lifted and raced and sank dizzily into the +trough, and between-whiles regarding the shore with yearning eyes. The +rest were huddled on the cabin floor among the cushions. Now and again +some one groaned, but for the most part they were as limp as so many dead +persons. + +As the bight at Turner’s Shipyard opened out, Charley edged into it to +get the smoother water. Benicia was in view, and we were bowling along +over comparatively easy water, when a speck of a boat danced up ahead of +us, directly in our course. It was low-water slack. Charley and I +looked at each other. No word was spoken, but at once the yacht began a +most astonishing performance, veering and yawing as though the greenest +of amateurs was at the wheel. It was a sight for sailormen to see. To +all appearances, a runaway yacht was careering madly over the bight, and +now and again yielding a little bit to control in a desperate effort to +make Benicia. + +The owner forgot his seasickness long enough to look anxious. The speck +of a boat grew larger and larger, till we could see Big Alec and his +partner, with a turn of the sturgeon line around a cleat, resting from +their labor to laugh at us. Charley pulled his sou’wester over his eyes, +and I followed his example, though I could not guess the idea he +evidently had in mind and intended to carry into execution. + +We came foaming down abreast of the skiff, so close that we could hear +above the wind the voices of Big Alec and his mate as they shouted at us +with all the scorn that professional watermen feel for amateurs, +especially when amateurs are making fools of themselves. + +We thundered on past the fishermen, and nothing had happened. Charley +grinned at the disappointment he saw in my face, and then shouted: + +“Stand by the main-sheet to jibe!” + +He put the wheel hard over, and the yacht whirled around obediently. The +main-sheet slacked and dipped, then shot over our heads after the boom +and tautened with a crash on the traveller. The yacht heeled over almost +on her beam ends, and a great wail went up from the seasick passengers as +they swept across the cabin floor in a tangled mass and piled into a heap +in the starboard bunks. + +But we had no time for them. The yacht, completing the manœuvre, headed +into the wind with slatting canvas, and righted to an even keel. We were +still plunging ahead, and directly in our path was the skiff. I saw Big +Alec dive overboard and his mate leap for our bowsprit. Then came the +crash as we struck the boat, and a series of grinding bumps as it passed +under our bottom. + +“That fixes his rifle,” I heard Charley mutter, as he sprang upon the +deck to look for Big Alec somewhere astern. + +The wind and sea quickly stopped our forward movement, and we began to +drift backward over the spot where the skiff had been. Big Alec’s black +head and swarthy face popped up within arm’s reach; and all unsuspecting +and very angry with what he took to be the clumsiness of amateur sailors, +he was hauled aboard. Also he was out of breath, for he had dived deep +and stayed down long to escape our keel. + +The next instant, to the perplexity and consternation of the owner, +Charley was on top of Big Alec in the cockpit, and I was helping bind him +with gaskets. The owner was dancing excitedly about and demanding an +explanation, but by that time Big Alec’s partner had crawled aft from the +bowsprit and was peering apprehensively over the rail into the cockpit. +Charley’s arm shot around his neck and the man landed on his back beside +Big Alec. + +“More gaskets!” Charley shouted, and I made haste to supply them. + +The wrecked skiff was rolling sluggishly a short distance to windward, +and I trimmed the sheets while Charley took the wheel and steered for it. + +“These two men are old offenders,” he explained to the angry owner; “and +they are most persistent violators of the fish and game laws. You have +seen them caught in the act, and you may expect to be subpœnaed as +witness for the state when the trial comes off.” + +As he spoke he rounded alongside the skiff. It had been torn from the +line, a section of which was dragging to it. He hauled in forty or fifty +feet with a young sturgeon still fast in a tangle of barbless hooks, +slashed that much of the line free with his knife, and tossed it into the +cockpit beside the prisoners. + +“And there’s the evidence, Exhibit A, for the people,” Charley continued. +“Look it over carefully so that you may identify it in the court-room +with the time and place of capture.” + +And then, in triumph, with no more veering and yawing, we sailed into +Benicia, the King of the Greeks bound hard and fast in the cockpit, and +for the first time in his life a prisoner of the fish patrol. + + + + +A RAID ON THE OYSTER PIRATES + + +OF the fish patrolmen under whom we served at various times, Charley Le +Grant and I were agreed, I think, that Neil Partington was the best. He +was neither dishonest nor cowardly; and while he demanded strict +obedience when we were under his orders, at the same time our relations +were those of easy comradeship, and he permitted us a freedom to which we +were ordinarily unaccustomed, as the present story will show. + +Neil’s family lived in Oakland, which is on the Lower Bay, not more than +six miles across the water from San Francisco. One day, while scouting +among the Chinese shrimp-catchers of Point Pedro, he received word that +his wife was very ill; and within the hour the _Reindeer_ was bowling +along for Oakland, with a stiff northwest breeze astern. We ran up the +Oakland Estuary and came to anchor, and in the days that followed, while +Neil was ashore, we tightened up the _Reindeer’s_ rigging, overhauled the +ballast, scraped down, and put the sloop into thorough shape. + +This done, time hung heavy on our hands. Neil’s wife was dangerously +ill, and the outlook was a week’s lie-over, awaiting the crisis. Charley +and I roamed the docks, wondering what we should do, and so came upon the +oyster fleet lying at the Oakland City Wharf. In the main they were +trim, natty boats, made for speed and bad weather, and we sat down on the +stringer-piece of the dock to study them. + +“A good catch, I guess,” Charley said, pointing to the heaps of oysters, +assorted in three sizes, which lay upon their decks. + +Pedlers were backing their wagons to the edge of the wharf, and from the +bargaining and chaffering that went on, I managed to learn the selling +price of the oysters. + +“That boat must have at least two hundred dollars’ worth aboard,” I +calculated. “I wonder how long it took to get the load?” + +“Three or four days,” Charley answered. “Not bad wages for two +men—twenty-five dollars a day apiece.” + +The boat we were discussing, the _Ghost_, lay directly beneath us. Two +men composed its crew. One was a squat, broad-shouldered fellow with +remarkably long and gorilla-like arms, while the other was tall and well +proportioned, with clear blue eyes and a mat of straight black hair. So +unusual and striking was this combination of hair and eyes that Charley +and I remained somewhat longer than we intended. + +And it was well that we did. A stout, elderly man, with the dress and +carriage of a successful merchant, came up and stood beside us, looking +down upon the deck of the _Ghost_. He appeared angry, and the longer he +looked the angrier he grew. + +“Those are my oysters,” he said at last. “I know they are my oysters. +You raided my beds last night and robbed me of them.” + +The tall man and the short man on the _Ghost_ looked up. + +“Hello, Taft,” the short man said, with insolent familiarity. (Among the +bayfarers he had gained the nickname of “The Centipede” on account of his +long arms.) “Hello, Taft,” he repeated, with the same touch of +insolence. “Wot ’r you growling about now?” + +“Those are my oysters—that’s what I said. You’ve stolen them from my +beds.” + +“Yer mighty wise, ain’t ye?” was the Centipede’s sneering reply. “S’pose +you can tell your oysters wherever you see ’em?” + +“Now, in my experience,” broke in the tall man, “oysters is oysters +wherever you find ’em, an’ they’re pretty much alike all the Bay over, +and the world over, too, for that matter. We’re not wantin’ to quarrel +with you, Mr. Taft, but we jes’ wish you wouldn’t insinuate that them +oysters is yours an’ that we’re thieves an’ robbers till you can prove +the goods.” + +“I know they’re mine; I’d stake my life on it!” Mr. Taft snorted. + +“Prove it,” challenged the tall man, who we afterward learned was known +as “The Porpoise” because of his wonderful swimming abilities. + +Mr. Taft shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Of course he could not prove +the oysters to be his, no matter how certain he might be. + +“I’d give a thousand dollars to have you men behind the bars!” he cried. +“I’ll give fifty dollars a head for your arrest and conviction, all of +you!” + +A roar of laughter went up from the different boats, for the rest of the +pirates had been listening to the discussion. + +“There’s more money in oysters,” the Porpoise remarked dryly. + +Mr. Taft turned impatiently on his heel and walked away. From out of the +corner of his eye, Charley noted the way he went. Several minutes later, +when he had disappeared around a corner, Charley rose lazily to his feet. +I followed him, and we sauntered off in the opposite direction to that +taken by Mr. Taft. + +“Come on! Lively!” Charley whispered, when we passed from the view of +the oyster fleet. + +Our course was changed at once, and we dodged around corners and raced up +and down side-streets till Mr. Taft’s generous form loomed up ahead of +us. + +“I’m going to interview him about that reward,” Charley explained, as we +rapidly overhauled the oyster-bed owner. “Neil will be delayed here for +a week, and you and I might as well be doing something in the meantime. +What do you say?” + +“Of course, of course,” Mr. Taft said, when Charley had introduced +himself and explained his errand. “Those thieves are robbing me of +thousands of dollars every year, and I shall be glad to break them up at +any price,—yes, sir, at any price. As I said, I’ll give fifty dollars a +head, and call it cheap at that. They’ve robbed my beds, torn down my +signs, terrorized my watchmen, and last year killed one of them. +Couldn’t prove it. All done in the blackness of night. All I had was a +dead watchman and no evidence. The detectives could do nothing. Nobody +has been able to do anything with those men. We have never succeeded in +arresting one of them. So I say, Mr.—What did you say your name was?” + +“Le Grant,” Charley answered. + +“So I say, Mr. Le Grant, I am deeply obliged to you for the assistance +you offer. And I shall be glad, most glad, sir, to co-operate with you +in every way. My watchmen and boats are at your disposal. Come and see +me at the San Francisco offices any time, or telephone at my expense. +And don’t be afraid of spending money. I’ll foot your expenses, whatever +they are, so long as they are within reason. The situation is growing +desperate, and something must be done to determine whether I or that band +of ruffians own those oyster beds.” + +“Now we’ll see Neil,” Charley said, when he had seen Mr. Taft upon his +train to San Francisco. + +Not only did Neil Partington interpose no obstacle to our adventure, but +he proved to be of the greatest assistance. Charley and I knew nothing +of the oyster industry, while his head was an encyclopædia of facts +concerning it. Also, within an hour or so, he was able to bring to us a +Greek boy of seventeen or eighteen who knew thoroughly well the ins and +outs of oyster piracy. + +At this point I may as well explain that we of the fish patrol were free +lances in a way. While Neil Partington, who was a patrolman proper, +received a regular salary, Charley and I, being merely deputies, received +only what we earned—that is to say, a certain percentage of the fines +imposed on convicted violators of the fish laws. Also, any rewards that +chanced our way were ours. We offered to share with Partington whatever +we should get from Mr. Taft, but the patrolman would not hear of it. He +was only too happy, he said, to do a good turn for us, who had done so +many for him. + +We held a long council of war, and mapped out the following line of +action. Our faces were unfamiliar on the Lower Bay, but as the +_Reindeer_ was well known as a fish-patrol sloop, the Greek boy, whose +name was Nicholas, and I were to sail some innocent-looking craft down to +Asparagus Island and join the oyster pirates’ fleet. Here, according to +Nicholas’s description of the beds and the manner of raiding, it was +possible for us to catch the pirates in the act of stealing oysters, and +at the same time to get them in our power. Charley was to be on the +shore, with Mr. Taft’s watchmen and a posse of constables, to help us at +the right time. + +“I know just the boat,” Neil said, at the conclusion of the discussion, +“a crazy old sloop that’s lying over at Tiburon. You and Nicholas can go +over by the ferry, charter it for a song, and sail direct for the beds.” + +“Good luck be with you, boys,” he said at parting, two days later. +“Remember, they are dangerous men, so be careful.” + +Nicholas and I succeeded in chartering the sloop very cheaply; and +between laughs, while getting up sail, we agreed that she was even +crazier and older than she had been described. She was a big, +flat-bottomed, square-sterned craft, sloop-rigged, with a sprung mast, +slack rigging, dilapidated sails, and rotten running-gear, clumsy to +handle and uncertain in bringing about, and she smelled vilely of coal +tar, with which strange stuff she had been smeared from stem to stern and +from cabin-roof to centreboard. And to cap it all, _Coal Tar Maggie_ was +printed in great white letters the whole length of either side. + +It was an uneventful though laughable run from Tiburon to Asparagus +Island, where we arrived in the afternoon of the following day. The +oyster pirates, a fleet of a dozen sloops, were lying at anchor on what +was known as the “Deserted Beds.” The _Coal Tar Maggie_ came sloshing +into their midst with a light breeze astern, and they crowded on deck to +see us. Nicholas and I had caught the spirit of the crazy craft, and we +handled her in most lubberly fashion. + +“Wot is it?” some one called. + +“Name it ’n’ ye kin have it!” called another. + +“I swan naow, ef it ain’t the old Ark itself!” mimicked the Centipede +from the deck of the _Ghost_. + +“Hey! Ahoy there, clipper ship!” another wag shouted. “Wot’s yer port?” + +We took no notice of the joking, but acted, after the manner of +greenhorns, as though the _Coal Tar Maggie_ required our undivided +attention. I rounded her well to windward of the _Ghost_, and Nicholas +ran for’ard to drop the anchor. To all appearances it was a bungle, the +way the chain tangled and kept the anchor from reaching the bottom. And +to all appearances Nicholas and I were terribly excited as we strove to +clear it. At any rate, we quite deceived the pirates, who took huge +delight in our predicament. + +But the chain remained tangled, and amid all kinds of mocking advice we +drifted down upon and fouled the _Ghost_, whose bowsprit poked square +through our mainsail and ripped a hole in it as big as a barn door. The +Centipede and the Porpoise doubled up on the cabin in paroxysms of +laughter, and left us to get clear as best we could. This, with much +unseaman-like performance, we succeeded in doing, and likewise in +clearing the anchor-chain, of which we let out about three hundred feet. +With only ten feet of water under us, this would permit the _Coal Tar +Maggie_ to swing in a circle six hundred feet in diameter, in which +circle she would be able to foul at least half the fleet. + +The oyster pirates lay snugly together at short hawsers, the weather +being fine, and they protested loudly at our ignorance in putting out +such an unwarranted length of anchor-chain. And not only did they +protest, for they made us heave it in again, all but thirty feet. + +Having sufficiently impressed them with our general lubberliness, +Nicholas and I went below to congratulate ourselves and to cook supper. +Hardly had we finished the meal and washed the dishes, when a skiff +ground against the _Coal Tar Maggie’s_ side, and heavy feet trampled on +deck. Then the Centipede’s brutal face appeared in the companionway, and +he descended into the cabin, followed by the Porpoise. Before they could +seat themselves on a bunk, another skiff came alongside, and another, and +another, till the whole fleet was represented by the gathering in the +cabin. + +“Where’d you swipe the old tub?” asked a squat and hairy man, with cruel +eyes and Mexican features. + +“Didn’t swipe it,” Nicholas answered, meeting them on their own ground +and encouraging the idea that we had stolen the _Coal Tar Maggie_. “And +if we did, what of it?” + +“Well, I don’t admire your taste, that’s all,” sneered he of the Mexican +features. “I’d rot on the beach first before I’d take a tub that +couldn’t get out of its own way.” + +“How were we to know till we tried her?” Nicholas asked, so innocently as +to cause a laugh. “And how do you get the oysters?” he hurried on. “We +want a load of them; that’s what we came for, a load of oysters.” + +“What d’ye want ’em for?” demanded the Porpoise. + +“Oh, to give away to our friends, of course,” Nicholas retorted. “That’s +what you do with yours, I suppose.” + +This started another laugh, and as our visitors grew more genial we could +see that they had not the slightest suspicion of our identity or purpose. + +“Didn’t I see you on the dock in Oakland the other day?” the Centipede +asked suddenly of me. + +“Yep,” I answered boldly, taking the bull by the horns. “I was watching +you fellows and figuring out whether we’d go oystering or not. It’s a +pretty good business, I calculate, and so we’re going in for it. That +is,” I hastened to add, “if you fellows don’t mind.” + +“I’ll tell you one thing, which ain’t two things,” he replied, “and that +is you’ll have to hump yerself an’ get a better boat. We won’t stand to +be disgraced by any such box as this. Understand?” + +“Sure,” I said. “Soon as we sell some oysters we’ll outfit in style.” + +“And if you show yerself square an’ the right sort,” he went on, “why, +you kin run with us. But if you don’t” (here his voice became stern and +menacing), “why, it’ll be the sickest day of yer life. Understand?” + +“Sure,” I said. + +After that and more warning and advice of similar nature, the +conversation became general, and we learned that the beds were to be +raided that very night. As they got into their boats, after an hour’s +stay, we were invited to join them in the raid with the assurance of “the +more the merrier.” + +“Did you notice that short, Mexican-looking chap?” Nicholas asked, when +they had departed to their various sloops. “He’s Barchi, of the Sporting +Life Gang, and the fellow that came with him is Skilling. They’re both +out now on five thousand dollars’ bail.” + +I had heard of the Sporting Life Gang before, a crowd of hoodlums and +criminals that terrorized the lower quarters of Oakland, and two-thirds +of which were usually to be found in state’s prison for crimes that +ranged from perjury and ballot-box stuffing to murder. + +“They are not regular oyster pirates,” Nicholas continued. “They’ve just +come down for the lark and to make a few dollars. But we’ll have to +watch out for them.” + +We sat in the cockpit and discussed the details of our plan till eleven +o’clock had passed, when we heard the rattle of an oar in a boat from the +direction of the _Ghost_. We hauled up our own skiff, tossed in a few +sacks, and rowed over. There we found all the skiffs assembling, it +being the intention to raid the beds in a body. + +To my surprise, I found barely a foot of water where we had dropped +anchor in ten feet. It was the big June run-out of the full moon, and as +the ebb had yet an hour and a half to run, I knew that our anchorage +would be dry ground before slack water. + +Mr. Taft’s beds were three miles away, and for a long time we rowed +silently in the wake of the other boats, once in a while grounding and +our oar blades constantly striking bottom. At last we came upon soft mud +covered with not more than two inches of water—not enough to float the +boats. But the pirates at once were over the side, and by pushing and +pulling on the flat-bottomed skiffs, we moved steadily along. + +The full moon was partly obscured by high-flying clouds, but the pirates +went their way with the familiarity born of long practice. After half a +mile of the mud, we came upon a deep channel, up which we rowed, with +dead oyster shoals looming high and dry on either side. At last we +reached the picking grounds. Two men, on one of the shoals, hailed us +and warned us off. But the Centipede, the Porpoise, Barchi, and Skilling +took the lead, and followed by the rest of us, at least thirty men in +half as many boats, rowed right up to the watchmen. + +“You’d better slide outa this here,” Barchi said threateningly, “or we’ll +fill you so full of holes you wouldn’t float in molasses.” + +The watchmen wisely retreated before so overwhelming a force, and rowed +their boat along the channel toward where the shore should be. Besides, +it was in the plan for them to retreat. + +We hauled the noses of the boats up on the shore side of a big shoal, and +all hands, with sacks, spread out and began picking. Every now and again +the clouds thinned before the face of the moon, and we could see the big +oysters quite distinctly. In almost no time sacks were filled and +carried back to the boats, where fresh ones were obtained. Nicholas and +I returned often and anxiously to the boats with our little loads, but +always found some one of the pirates coming or going. + +“Never mind,” he said; “no hurry. As they pick farther and farther away, +it will take too long to carry to the boats. Then they’ll stand the full +sacks on end and pick them up when the tide comes in and the skiffs will +float to them.” + +Fully half an hour went by, and the tide had begun to flood, when this +came to pass. Leaving the pirates at their work, we stole back to the +boats. One by one, and noiselessly, we shoved them off and made them +fast in an awkward flotilla. Just as we were shoving off the last skiff, +our own, one of the men came upon us. It was Barchi. His quick eye took +in the situation at a glance, and he sprang for us; but we went clear +with a mighty shove, and he was left floundering in the water over his +head. As soon as he got back to the shoal he raised his voice and gave +the alarm. + +We rowed with all our strength, but it was slow going with so many boats +in tow. A pistol cracked from the shoal, a second, and a third; then a +regular fusillade began. The bullets spat and spat all about us; but +thick clouds had covered the moon, and in the dim darkness it was no more +than random firing. It was only by chance that we could be hit. + +“Wish we had a little steam launch,” I panted. + +“I’d just as soon the moon stayed hidden,” Nicholas panted back. + +It was slow work, but every stroke carried us farther away from the shoal +and nearer the shore, till at last the shooting died down, and when the +moon did come out we were too far away to be in danger. Not long +afterward we answered a shoreward hail, and two Whitehall boats, each +pulled by three pairs of oars, darted up to us. Charley’s welcome face +bent over to us, and he gripped us by the hands while he cried, “Oh, you +joys! You joys! Both of you!” + +When the flotilla had been landed, Nicholas and I and a watchman rowed +out in one of the Whitehalls, with Charley in the stern-sheets. Two +other Whitehalls followed us, and as the moon now shone brightly, we +easily made out the oyster pirates on their lonely shoal. As we drew +closer, they fired a rattling volley from their revolvers, and we +promptly retreated beyond range. + +“Lot of time,” Charley said. “The flood is setting in fast, and by the +time it’s up to their necks there won’t be any fight left in them.” + +So we lay on our oars and waited for the tide to do its work. This was +the predicament of the pirates: because of the big run-out, the tide was +now rushing back like a mill-race, and it was impossible for the +strongest swimmer in the world to make against it the three miles to the +sloops. Between the pirates and the shore were we, precluding escape in +that direction. On the other hand, the water was rising rapidly over the +shoals, and it was only a question of a few hours when it would be over +their heads. + +It was beautifully calm, and in the brilliant white moonlight we watched +them through our night glasses and told Charley of the voyage of the +_Coal Tar Maggie_. One o’clock came, and two o’clock, and the pirates +were clustering on the highest shoal, waist-deep in water. + +“Now this illustrates the value of imagination,” Charley was saying. +“Taft has been trying for years to get them, but he went at it with bull +strength and failed. Now we used our heads . . .” + +Just then I heard a scarcely audible gurgle of water, and holding up my +hand for silence, I turned and pointed to a ripple slowly widening out in +a growing circle. It was not more than fifty feet from us. We kept +perfectly quiet and waited. After a minute the water broke six feet +away, and a black head and white shoulder showed in the moonlight. With +a snort of surprise and of suddenly expelled breath, the head and +shoulder went down. + +We pulled ahead several strokes and drifted with the current. Four pairs +of eyes searched the surface of the water, but never another ripple +showed, and never another glimpse did we catch of the black head and +white shoulder. + +“It’s the Porpoise,” Nicholas said. “It would take broad daylight for us +to catch him.” + +At a quarter to three the pirates gave their first sign of weakening. We +heard cries for help, in the unmistakable voice of the Centipede, and +this time, on rowing closer, we were not fired upon. The Centipede was +in a truly perilous plight. Only the heads and shoulders of his +fellow-marauders showed above the water as they braced themselves against +the current, while his feet were off the bottom and they were supporting +him. + +“Now, lads,” Charley said briskly, “we have got you, and you can’t get +away. If you cut up rough, we’ll have to leave you alone and the water +will finish you. But if you’re good we’ll take you aboard, one man at a +time, and you’ll all be saved. What do you say?” + +“Ay,” they chorused hoarsely between their chattering teeth. + +“Then one man at a time, and the short men first.” + +The Centipede was the first to be pulled aboard, and he came willingly, +though he objected when the constable put the handcuffs on him. Barchi +was next hauled in, quite meek and resigned from his soaking. When we +had ten in, our boat we drew back, and the second Whitehall was loaded. +The third Whitehall received nine prisoners only—a catch of twenty-nine +in all. + +“You didn’t get the Porpoise,” the Centipede said exultantly, as though +his escape materially diminished our success. + +Charley laughed. “But we saw him just the same, a-snorting for shore +like a puffing pig.” + +It was a mild and shivering band of pirates that we marched up the beach +to the oyster house. In answer to Charley’s knock, the door was flung +open, and a pleasant wave of warm air rushed out upon us. + +“You can dry your clothes here, lads, and get some hot coffee,” Charley +announced, as they filed in. + +And there, sitting ruefully by the fire, with a steaming mug in his hand, +was the Porpoise. With one accord Nicholas and I looked at Charley. He +laughed gleefully. + +“That comes of imagination,” he said. “When you see a thing, you’ve got +to see it all around, or what’s the good of seeing it at all? I saw the +beach, so I left a couple of constables behind to keep an eye on it. +That’s all.” + + + + +THE SIEGE OF THE “LANCASHIRE QUEEN” + + +POSSIBLY our most exasperating experience on the fish patrol was when +Charley Le Grant and I laid a two weeks’ siege to a big four-masted +English ship. Before we had finished with the affair, it became a pretty +mathematical problem, and it was by the merest chance that we came into +possession of the instrument that brought it to a successful termination. + +After our raid on the oyster pirates we had returned to Oakland, where +two more weeks passed before Neil Partington’s wife was out of danger and +on the highroad to recovery. So it was after an absence of a month, all +told, that we turned the _Reindeer’s_ nose toward Benicia. When the +cat’s away the mice will play, and in these four weeks the fishermen had +become very bold in violating the law. When we passed Point Pedro we +noticed many signs of activity among the shrimp-catchers, and, well into +San Pablo Bay, we observed a widely scattered fleet of Upper Bay +fishing-boats hastily pulling in their nets and getting up sail. + +This was suspicious enough to warrant investigation, and the first and +only boat we succeeded in boarding proved to have an illegal net. The +law permitted no smaller mesh for catching shad than one that measured +seven and one-half inches inside the knots, while the mesh of this +particular net measured only three inches. It was a flagrant breach of +the rules, and the two fishermen were forthwith put under arrest. Neil +Partington took one of them with him to help manage the _Reindeer_, while +Charley and I went on ahead with the other in the captured boat. + +But the shad fleet had headed over toward the Petaluma shore in wild +flight, and for the rest of the run through San Pablo Bay we saw no more +fishermen at all. Our prisoner, a bronzed and bearded Greek, sat +sullenly on his net while we sailed his craft. It was a new Columbia +River salmon boat, evidently on its first trip, and it handled +splendidly. Even when Charley praised it, our prisoner refused to speak +or to notice us, and we soon gave him up as a most unsociable fellow. + +We ran up the Carquinez Straits and edged into the bight at Turner’s +Shipyard for smoother water. Here were lying several English steel +sailing ships, waiting for the wheat harvest; and here, most +unexpectedly, in the precise place where we had captured Big Alec, we +came upon two Italians in a skiff that was loaded with a complete +“Chinese” sturgeon line. The surprise was mutual, and we were on top of +them before either they or we were aware. Charley had barely time to +luff into the wind and run up to them. I ran forward and tossed them a +line with orders to make it fast. One of the Italians took a turn with +it over a cleat, while I hastened to lower our big spritsail. This +accomplished, the salmon boat dropped astern, dragging heavily on the +skiff. + +Charley came forward to board the prize, but when I proceeded to haul +alongside by means of the line, the Italians cast it off. We at once +began drifting to leeward, while they got out two pairs of oars and rowed +their light craft directly into the wind. This manœuvre for the moment +disconcerted us, for in our large and heavily loaded boat we could not +hope to catch them with the oars. But our prisoner came unexpectedly to +our aid. His black eyes were flashing eagerly, and his face was flushed +with suppressed excitement, as he dropped the centre-board, sprang +forward with a single leap, and put up the sail. + +“I’ve always heard that Greeks don’t like Italians,” Charley laughed, as +he ran aft to the tiller. + +And never in my experience have I seen a man so anxious for the capture +of another as was our prisoner in the chase that followed. His eyes +fairly snapped, and his nostrils quivered and dilated in a most +extraordinary way. Charley steered while he tended the sheet; and though +Charley was as quick and alert as a cat, the Greek could hardly control +his impatience. + +The Italians were cut off from the shore, which was fully a mile away at +its nearest point. Did they attempt to make it, we could haul after them +with the wind abeam, and overtake them before they had covered an eighth +of the distance. But they were too wise to attempt it, contenting +themselves with rowing lustily to windward along the starboard side of a +big ship, the _Lancashire Queen_. But beyond the ship lay an open +stretch of fully two miles to the shore in that direction. This, also, +they dared not attempt, for we were bound to catch them before they could +cover it. So, when they reached the bow of the _Lancashire Queen_, +nothing remained but to pass around and row down her port side toward the +stern, which meant rowing to leeward and giving us the advantage. + +We in the salmon boat, sailing close on the wind, tacked about and +crossed the ship’s bow. Then Charley put up the tiller and headed down +the port side of the ship, the Greek letting out the sheet and grinning +with delight. The Italians were already half-way down the ship’s length; +but the stiff breeze at our back drove us after them far faster than they +could row. Closer and closer we came, and I, lying down forward, was +just reaching out to grasp the skiff, when it ducked under the great +stern of the _Lancashire Queen_. + +The chase was virtually where it had begun. The Italians were rowing up +the starboard side of the ship, and we were hauled close on the wind and +slowly edging out from the ship as we worked to windward. Then they +darted around her bow and began the row down her port side, and we tacked +about, crossed her bow, and went plunging down the wind hot after them. +And again, just as I was reaching for the skiff, it ducked under the +ship’s stern and out of danger. And so it went, around and around, the +skiff each time just barely ducking into safety. + +By this time the ship’s crew had become aware of what was taking place, +and we could see their heads in a long row as they looked at us over the +bulwarks. Each time we missed the skiff at the stern, they set up a wild +cheer and dashed across to the other side of the _Lancashire Queen_ to +see the chase to windward. They showered us and the Italians with jokes +and advice, and made our Greek so angry that at least once on each +circuit he raised his fist and shook it at them in a rage. They came to +look for this, and at each display greeted it with uproarious mirth. + +“Wot a circus!” cried one. + +“Tork about yer marine hippodromes,—if this ain’t one, I’d like to know!” +affirmed another. + +“Six-days-go-as-yer-please,” announced a third. “Who says the dagoes +won’t win?” + +On the next tack to windward the Greek offered to change places with +Charley. + +“Let-a me sail-a de boat,” he demanded. “I fix-a them, I catch-a them, +sure.” + +This was a stroke at Charley’s professional pride, for pride himself he +did upon his boat-sailing abilities; but he yielded the tiller to the +prisoner and took his place at the sheet. Three times again we made the +circuit, and the Greek found that he could get no more speed out of the +salmon boat than Charley had. + +“Better give it up,” one of the sailors advised from above. + +The Greek scowled ferociously and shook his fist in his customary +fashion. In the meanwhile my mind had not been idle, and I had finally +evolved an idea. + +“Keep going, Charley, one time more,” I said. + +And as we laid out on the next tack to windward, I bent a piece of line +to a small grappling hook I had seen lying in the bail-hole. The end of +the line I made fast to the ring-bolt in the bow, and with the hook out +of sight I waited for the next opportunity to use it. Once more they +made their leeward pull down the port side of the _Lancashire Queen_, and +once more we churned down after them before the wind. Nearer and nearer +we drew, and I was making believe to reach for them as before. The stern +of the skiff was not six feet away, and they were laughing at me +derisively as they ducked under the ship’s stern. At that instant I +suddenly arose and threw the grappling iron. It caught fairly and +squarely on the rail of the skiff, which was jerked backward out of +safety as the rope tautened and the salmon boat ploughed on. + +A groan went up from the row of sailors above, which quickly changed to a +cheer as one of the Italians whipped out a long sheath-knife and cut the +rope. But we had drawn them out of safety, and Charley, from his place +in the stern-sheets, reached over and clutched the stern of the skiff. +The whole thing happened in a second of time, for the first Italian was +cutting the rope and Charley was clutching the skiff when the second +Italian dealt him a rap over the head with an oar, Charley released his +hold and collapsed, stunned, into the bottom of the salmon boat, and the +Italians bent to their oars and escaped back under the ship’s stern. + +The Greek took both tiller and sheet and continued the chase around the +_Lancashire Queen_, while I attended to Charley, on whose head a nasty +lump was rapidly rising. Our sailor audience was wild with delight, and +to a man encouraged the fleeing Italians. Charley sat up, with one hand +on his head, and gazed about him sheepishly. + +“It will never do to let them escape now,” he said, at the same time +drawing his revolver. + +On our next circuit, he threatened the Italians with the weapon; but they +rowed on stolidly, keeping splendid stroke and utterly disregarding him. + +“If you don’t stop, I’ll shoot,” Charley said menacingly. + +But this had no effect, nor were they to be frightened into surrendering +even when he fired several shots dangerously close to them. It was too +much to expect him to shoot unarmed men, and this they knew as well as we +did; so they continued to pull doggedly round and round the ship. + +“We’ll run them down, then!” Charley exclaimed. “We’ll wear them out and +wind them!” + +So the chase continued. Twenty times more we ran them around the +_Lancashire Queen_, and at last we could see that even their iron muscles +were giving out. They were nearly exhausted, and it was only a matter of +a few more circuits, when the game took on a new feature. On the row to +windward they always gained on us, so that they were half-way down the +ship’s side on the row to leeward when we were passing the bow. But this +last time, as we passed the bow, we saw them escaping up the ship’s +gangway, which had been suddenly lowered. It was an organized move on +the part of the sailors, evidently countenanced by the captain; for by +the time we arrived where the gangway had been, it was being hoisted up, +and the skiff, slung in the ship’s davits, was likewise flying aloft out +of reach. + +The parley that followed with the captain was short and snappy. He +absolutely forbade us to board the _Lancashire Queen_, and as absolutely +refused to give up the two men. By this time Charley was as enraged as +the Greek. Not only had he been foiled in a long and ridiculous chase, +but he had been knocked senseless into the bottom of his boat by the men +who had escaped him. + +“Knock off my head with little apples,” he declared emphatically, +striking the fist of one hand into the palm of the other, “if those two +men ever escape me! I’ll stay here to get them if it takes the rest of +my natural life, and if I don’t get them, then I promise you I’ll live +unnaturally long or until I do get them, or my name’s not Charley Le +Grant!” + +And then began the siege of the _Lancashire Queen_, a siege memorable in +the annals of both fishermen and fish patrol. When the _Reindeer_ came +along, after a fruitless pursuit of the shad fleet, Charley instructed +Neil Partington to send out his own salmon boat, with blankets, +provisions, and a fisherman’s charcoal stove. By sunset this exchange of +boats was made, and we said good-by to our Greek, who perforce had to go +into Benicia and be locked up for his own violation of the law. After +supper, Charley and I kept alternate four-hour watches till daylight. +The fishermen made no attempt to escape that night, though the ship sent +out a boat for scouting purposes to find if the coast were clear. + +By the next day we saw that a steady siege was in order, and we perfected +our plans with an eye to our own comfort. A dock, known as the Solano +Wharf, which ran out from the Benicia shore, helped us in this. It +happened that the _Lancashire Queen_, the shore at Turner’s Shipyard, and +the Solano Wharf were the corners of a big equilateral triangle. From +ship to shore, the side of the triangle along which the Italians had to +escape, was a distance equal to that from the Solano Wharf to the shore, +the side of the triangle along which we had to travel to get to the shore +before the Italians. But as we could sail much faster than they could +row, we could permit them to travel about half their side of the triangle +before we darted out along our side. If we allowed them to get more than +half-way, they were certain to beat us to shore; while if we started +before they were half-way, they were equally certain to beat us back to +the ship. + +We found that an imaginary line, drawn from the end of the wharf to a +windmill farther along the shore, cut precisely in half the line of the +triangle along which the Italians must escape to reach the land. This +line made it easy for us to determine how far to let them run away before +we bestirred ourselves in pursuit. Day after day we would watch them +through our glasses as they rowed leisurely along toward the half-way +point; and as they drew close into line with the windmill, we would leap +into the boat and get up sail. At sight of our preparation, they would +turn and row slowly back to the _Lancashire Queen_, secure in the +knowledge that we could not overtake them. + +To guard against calms—when our salmon boat would be useless—we also had +in readiness a light rowing skiff equipped with spoon-oars. But at such +times, when the wind failed us, we were forced to row out from the wharf +as soon as they rowed from the ship. In the night-time, on the other +hand, we were compelled to patrol the immediate vicinity of the ship; +which we did, Charley and I standing four-hour watches turn and turn +about. The Italians, however, preferred the daytime in which to escape, +and so our long night vigils were without result. + +“What makes me mad,” said Charley, “is our being kept from our honest +beds while those rascally lawbreakers are sleeping soundly every night. +But much good may it do them,” he threatened. “I’ll keep them on that +ship till the captain charges them board, as sure as a sturgeon’s not a +catfish!” + +It was a tantalizing problem that confronted us. As long as we were +vigilant, they could not escape; and as long as they were careful, we +would be unable to catch them. Charley cudgelled his brains continually, +but for once his imagination failed him. It was a problem apparently +without other solution than that of patience. It was a waiting game, and +whichever waited the longer was bound to win. To add to our irritation, +friends of the Italians established a code of signals with them from the +shore, so that we never dared relax the siege for a moment. And besides +this, there were always one or two suspicious-looking fishermen hanging +around the Solano Wharf and keeping watch on our actions. We could do +nothing but “grin and bear it,” as Charley said, while it took up all our +time and prevented us from doing other work. + +The days went by, and there was no change in the situation. Not that no +attempts were made to change it. One night friends from the shore came +out in a skiff and attempted to confuse us while the two Italians +escaped. That they did not succeed was due to the lack of a little oil +on the ship’s davits. For we were drawn back from the pursuit of the +strange boat by the creaking of the davits, and arrived at the +_Lancashire Queen_ just as the Italians were lowering their skiff. +Another night, fully half a dozen skiffs rowed around us in the darkness, +but we held on like a leech to the side of the ship and frustrated their +plan till they grew angry and showered us with abuse. Charley laughed to +himself in the bottom of the boat. + +“It’s a good sign, lad,” he said to me. “When men begin to abuse, make +sure they’re losing patience; and shortly after they lose patience, they +lose their heads. Mark my words, if we only hold out, they’ll get +careless some fine day, and then we’ll get them.” + +But they did not grow careless, and Charley confessed that this was one +of the times when all signs failed. Their patience seemed equal to ours, +and the second week of the siege dragged monotonously along. Then +Charley’s lagging imagination quickened sufficiently to suggest a ruse. +Peter Boyelen, a new patrolman and one unknown to the fisher-folk, +happened to arrive in Benicia and we took him into our plan. We were as +secret as possible about it, but in some unfathomable way the friends +ashore got word to the beleaguered Italians to keep their eyes open. + +On the night we were to put our ruse into effect, Charley and I took up +our usual station in our rowing skiff alongside the _Lancashire Queen_. +After it was thoroughly dark, Peter Boyelen came out in a crazy duck +boat, the kind you can pick up and carry away under one arm. When we +heard him coming along, paddling noisily, we slipped away a short +distance into the darkness, and rested on our oars. Opposite the +gangway, having jovially hailed the anchor-watch of the _Lancashire +Queen_ and asked the direction of the _Scottish Chiefs_, another wheat +ship, he awkwardly capsized himself. The man who was standing the +anchor-watch ran down the gangway and hauled him out of the water. This +was what he wanted, to get aboard the ship; and the next thing he +expected was to be taken on deck and then below to warm up and dry out. +But the captain inhospitably kept him perched on the lowest gangway step, +shivering miserably and with his feet dangling in the water, till we, out +of very pity, rowed in from the darkness and took him off. The jokes and +gibes of the awakened crew sounded anything but sweet in our ears, and +even the two Italians climbed up on the rail and laughed down at us long +and maliciously. + +“That’s all right,” Charley said in a low voice, which I only could hear. +“I’m mighty glad it’s not us that’s laughing first. We’ll save our laugh +to the end, eh, lad?” + +He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he finished, but it seemed to me that +there was more determination than hope in his voice. + +It would have been possible for us to secure the aid of United States +marshals and board the English ship, backed by Government authority. But +the instructions of the Fish Commission were to the effect that the +patrolmen should avoid complications, and this one, did we call on the +higher powers, might well end in a pretty international tangle. + +The second week of the siege drew to its close, and there was no sign of +change in the situation. On the morning of the fourteenth day the change +came, and it came in a guise as unexpected and startling to us as it was +to the men we were striving to capture. + +Charley and I, after our customary night vigil by the side of the +_Lancashire Queen_, rowed into the Solana Wharf. + +“Hello!” cried Charley, in surprise. “In the name of reason and common +sense, what is that? Of all unmannerly craft did you ever see the like?” + +Well might he exclaim, for there, tied up to the dock, lay the strangest +looking launch I had ever seen. Not that it could be called a launch, +either, but it seemed to resemble a launch more than any other kind of +boat. It was seventy feet long, but so narrow was it, and so bare of +superstructure, that it appeared much smaller than it really was. It was +built wholly of steel, and was painted black. Three smokestacks, a good +distance apart and raking well aft, arose in single file amidships; while +the bow, long and lean and sharp as a knife, plainly advertised that the +boat was made for speed. Passing under the stern, we read _Streak_, +painted in small white letters. + +Charley and I were consumed with curiosity. In a few minutes we were on +board and talking with an engineer who was watching the sunrise from the +deck. He was quite willing to satisfy our curiosity, and in a few +minutes we learned that the _Streak_ had come in after dark from San +Francisco; that this was what might be called the trial trip; and that +she was the property of Silas Tate, a young mining millionaire of +California, whose fad was high-speed yachts. There was some talk about +turbine engines, direct application of steam, and the absence of pistons, +rods, and cranks,—all of which was beyond me, for I was familiar only +with sailing craft; but I did understand the last words of the engineer. + +“Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour, though you +wouldn’t think it,” he concluded proudly. + +“Say it again, man! Say it again!” Charley exclaimed in an excited +voice. + +“Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour,” the engineer +repeated, grinning good-naturedly. + +“Where’s the owner?” was Charley’s next question. “Is there any way I +can speak to him?” + +The engineer shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. He’s asleep, you +see.” + +At that moment a young man in blue uniform came on deck farther aft and +stood regarding the sunrise. + +“There he is, that’s him, that’s Mr. Tate,” said the engineer. + +Charley walked aft and spoke to him, and while he talked earnestly the +young man listened with an amused expression on his face. He must have +inquired about the depth of water close in to the shore at Turner’s +Shipyard, for I could see Charley making gestures and explaining. A few +minutes later he came back in high glee. + +“Come on lad,” he said. “On to the dock with you. We’ve got them!” + +It was our good fortune to leave the _Streak_ when we did, for a little +later one of the spy fishermen appeared. Charley and I took up our +accustomed places, on the stringer-piece, a little ahead of the _Streak_ +and over our own boat, where we could comfortably watch the _Lancashire +Queen_. Nothing occurred till about nine o’clock, when we saw the two +Italians leave the ship and pull along their side of the triangle toward +the shore. Charley looked as unconcerned as could be, but before they +had covered a quarter of the distance, he whispered to me: + +“Forty-five miles an hour . . . nothing can save them . . . they are +ours!” + +Slowly the two men rowed along till they were nearly in line with the +windmill. This was the point where we always jumped into our salmon boat +and got up the sail, and the two men, evidently expecting it, seemed +surprised when we gave no sign. + +When they were directly in line with the windmill, as near to the shore +as to the ship, and nearer the shore than we had ever allowed them +before, they grew suspicious. We followed them through the glasses, and +saw them standing up in the skiff and trying to find out what we were +doing. The spy fisherman, sitting beside us on the stringer-piece was +likewise puzzled. He could not understand our inactivity. The men in +the skiff rowed nearer the shore, but stood up again and scanned it, as +if they thought we might be in hiding there. But a man came out on the +beach and waved a handkerchief to indicate that the coast was clear. +That settled them. They bent to the oars to make a dash for it. Still +Charley waited. Not until they had covered three-quarters of the +distance from the _Lancashire Queen_, which left them hardly more than a +quarter of a mile to gain the shore, did Charley slap me on the shoulder +and cry: + +“They’re ours! They’re ours!” + +We ran the few steps to the side of the _Streak_ and jumped aboard. +Stern and bow lines were cast off in a jiffy. The _Streak_ shot ahead +and away from the wharf. The spy fisherman we had left behind on the +stringer-piece pulled out a revolver and fired five shots into the air in +rapid succession. The men in the skiff gave instant heed to the warning, +for we could see them pulling away like mad. + +But if they pulled like mad, I wonder how our progress can be described? +We fairly flew. So frightful was the speed with which we displaced the +water, that a wave rose up on either side our bow and foamed aft in a +series of three stiff, up-standing waves, while astern a great crested +billow pursued us hungrily, as though at each moment it would fall aboard +and destroy us. The _Streak_ was pulsing and vibrating and roaring like +a thing alive. The wind of our progress was like a gale—a +forty-five-mile gale. We could not face it and draw breath without +choking and strangling. It blew the smoke straight back from the mouths +of the smoke-stacks at a direct right angle to the perpendicular. In +fact, we were travelling as fast as an express train. “We just +_streaked_ it,” was the way Charley told it afterward, and I think his +description comes nearer than any I can give. + +As for the Italians in the skiff—hardly had we started, it seemed to me, +when we were on top of them. Naturally, we had to slow down long before +we got to them; but even then we shot past like a whirlwind and were +compelled to circle back between them and the shore. They had rowed +steadily, rising from the thwarts at every stroke, up to the moment we +passed them, when they recognized Charley and me. That took the last bit +of fight out of them. They hauled in their oars, and sullenly submitted +to arrest. + +“Well, Charley,” Neil Partington said, as we discussed it on the wharf +afterward, “I fail to see where your boasted imagination came into play +this time.” + +But Charley was true to his hobby. “Imagination?” he demanded, pointing +to the _Streak_. “Look at that! just look at it! If the invention of +that isn’t imagination, I should like to know what is.” + +“Of course,” he added, “it’s the other fellow’s imagination, but it did +the work all the same.” + + + + +CHARLEY’S COUP + + +PERHAPS our most laughable exploit on the fish patrol, and at the same +time our most dangerous one, was when we rounded in, at a single haul, an +even score of wrathful fishermen. Charley called it a “coop,” having +heard Neil Partington use the term; but I think he misunderstood the +word, and thought it meant “coop,” to catch, to trap. The fishermen, +however, coup or coop, must have called it a Waterloo, for it was the +severest stroke ever dealt them by the fish patrol, while they had +invited it by open and impudent defiance of the law. + +During what is called the “open season” the fishermen might catch as many +salmon as their luck allowed and their boats could hold. But there was +one important restriction. From sun-down Saturday night to sun-up Monday +morning, they were not permitted to set a net. This was a wise provision +on the part of the Fish Commission, for it was necessary to give the +spawning salmon some opportunity to ascend the river and lay their eggs. +And this law, with only an occasional violation, had been obediently +observed by the Greek fishermen who caught salmon for the canneries and +the market. + +One Sunday morning, Charley received a telephone call from a friend in +Collinsville, who told him that the full force of fishermen was out with +its nets. Charley and I jumped into our salmon boat and started for the +scene of the trouble. With a light favoring wind at our back we went +through the Carquinez Straits, crossed Suisun Bay, passed the Ship Island +Light, and came upon the whole fleet at work. + +But first let me describe the method by which they worked. The net used +is what is known as a gill-net. It has a simple diamond-shaped mesh +which measures at least seven and one-half inches between the knots. +From five to seven and even eight hundred feet in length, these nets are +only a few feet wide. They are not stationary, but float with the +current, the upper edge supported on the surface by floats, the lower +edge sunk by means of leaden weights. + +This arrangement keeps the net upright in the current and effectually +prevents all but the smaller fish from ascending the river. The salmon, +swimming near the surface, as is their custom, run their heads through +these meshes, and are prevented from going on through by their larger +girth of body, and from going back because of their gills, which catch in +the mesh. It requires two fishermen to set such a net,—one to row the +boat, while the other, standing in the stern, carefully pays out the net. +When it is all out, stretching directly across the stream, the men make +their boat fast to one end of the net and drift along with it. + +As we came upon the fleet of law-breaking fishermen, each boat two or +three hundred yards from its neighbors, and boats and nets dotting the +river as far as we could see, Charley said: + +“I’ve only one regret, lad, and that is that I have’nt a thousand arms so +as to be able to catch them all. As it is, we’ll only be able to catch +one boat, for while we are tackling that one it will be up nets and away +with the rest.” + +As we drew closer, we observed none of the usual flurry and excitement +which our appearance invariably produced. Instead, each boat lay quietly +by its net, while the fishermen favored us with not the slightest +attention. + +“It’s curious,” Charley muttered. “Can it be they don’t recognize us?” + +I said that it was impossible, and Charley agreed; yet there was a whole +fleet, manned by men who knew us only too well, and who took no more +notice of us than if we were a hay scow or a pleasure yacht. + +This did not continue to be the case, however, for as we bore down upon +the nearest net, the men to whom it belonged detached their boat and +rowed slowly toward the shore. The rest of the boats showed no, sign of +uneasiness. + +“That’s funny,” was Charley’s remark. “But we can confiscate the net, at +any rate.” + +We lowered sail, picked up one end of the net, and began to heave it into +the boat. But at the first heave we heard a bullet zip-zipping past us +on the water, followed by the faint report of a rifle. The men who had +rowed ashore were shooting at us. At the next heave a second bullet went +zipping past, perilously near. Charley took a turn around a pin and sat +down. There were no more shots. But as soon as he began to heave in, +the shooting recommenced. + +“That settles it,” he said, flinging the end of the net overboard. “You +fellows want it worse than we do, and you can have it.” + +We rowed over toward the next net, for Charley was intent on finding out +whether or not we were face to face with an organized defiance. As we +approached, the two fishermen proceeded to cast off from their net and +row ashore, while the first two rowed back and made fast to the net we +had abandoned. And at the second net we were greeted by rifle shots till +we desisted and went on to the third, where the manœuvre was again +repeated. + +Then we gave it up, completely routed, and hoisted sail and started on +the long windward beat back to Benicia. A number of Sundays went by, on +each of which the law was persistently violated. Yet, short of an armed +force of soldiers, we could do nothing. The fishermen had hit upon a new +idea and were using it for all it was worth, while there seemed no way by +which we could get the better of them. + +About this time Neil Partington happened along from the Lower Bay, where +he had been for a number of weeks. With him was Nicholas, the Greek boy +who had helped us in our raid on the oyster pirates, and the pair of them +took a hand. We made our arrangements carefully. It was planned that +while Charley and I tackled the nets, they were to be hidden ashore so as +to ambush the fishermen who landed to shoot at us. + +It was a pretty plan. Even Charley said it was. But we reckoned not +half so well as the Greeks. They forestalled us by ambushing Neil and +Nicholas and taking them prisoners, while, as of old, bullets whistled +about our ears when Charley and I attempted to take possession of the +nets. When we were again beaten off, Neil Partington and Nicholas were +released. They were rather shamefaced when they put in an appearance, +and Charley chaffed them unmercifully. But Neil chaffed back, demanding +to know why Charley’s imagination had not long since overcome the +difficulty. + +“Just you wait; the idea’ll come all right,” Charley promised. + +“Most probably,” Neil agreed. “But I’m afraid the salmon will be +exterminated first, and then there will be no need for it when it does +come.” + +Neil Partington, highly disgusted with his adventure, departed for the +Lower Bay, taking Nicholas with him, and Charley and I were left to our +own resources. This meant that the Sunday fishing would be left to +itself, too, until such time as Charley’s idea happened along. I puzzled +my head a good deal to find out some way of checkmating the Greeks, as +also did Charley, and we broached a thousand expedients which on +discussion proved worthless. + +The fishermen, on the other hand, were in high feather, and their boasts +went up and down the river to add to our discomfiture. Among all classes +of them we became aware of a growing insubordination. We were beaten, +and they were losing respect for us. With the loss of respect, contempt +began to arise. Charley began to be spoken of as the “olda woman,” and I +received my rating as the “pee-wee kid.” The situation was fast becoming +unbearable, and we knew that we should have to deliver a stunning stroke +at the Greeks in order to regain the old-time respect in which we had +stood. + +Then one morning the idea came. We were down on Steamboat Wharf, where +the river steamers made their landings, and where we found a group of +amused long-shoremen and loafers listening to the hard-luck tale of a +sleepy-eyed young fellow in long sea-boots. He was a sort of amateur +fisherman, he said, fishing for the local market of Berkeley. Now +Berkeley was on the Lower Bay, thirty miles away. On the previous night, +he said, he had set his net and dozed off to sleep in the bottom of the +boat. + +The next he knew it was morning, and he opened his eyes to find his boat +rubbing softly against the piles of Steamboat Wharf at Benicia. Also he +saw the river steamer _Apache_ lying ahead of him, and a couple of +deck-hands disentangling the shreds of his net from the paddle-wheel. In +short, after he had gone to sleep, his fisherman’s riding light had gone +out, and the _Apache_ had run over his net. Though torn pretty well to +pieces, the net in some way still remained foul, and he had had a +thirty-mile tow out of his course. + +Charley nudged me with his elbow. I grasped his thought on the instant, +but objected: + +“We can’t charter a steamboat.” + +“Don’t intend to,” he rejoined. “But let’s run over to Turner’s +Shipyard. I’ve something in my mind there that may be of use to us.” + +And over we went to the shipyard, where Charley led the way to the _Mary +Rebecca_, lying hauled out on the ways, where she was being cleaned and +overhauled. She was a scow-schooner we both knew well, carrying a cargo +of one hundred and forty tons and a spread of canvas greater than other +schooner on the bay. + +“How d’ye do, Ole,” Charley greeted a big blue-shirted Swede who was +greasing the jaws of the main gaff with a piece of pork rind. + +Ole grunted, puffed away at his pipe, and went on greasing. The captain +of a bay schooner is supposed to work with his hands just as well as the +men. + +Ole Ericsen verified Charley’s conjecture that the _Mary Rebecca_, as +soon as launched, would run up the San Joaquin River nearly to Stockton +for a load of wheat. Then Charley made his proposition, and Ole Ericsen +shook his head. + +“Just a hook, one good-sized hook,” Charley pleaded. + +“No, Ay tank not,” said Ole Ericsen. “Der _Mary Rebecca_ yust hang up on +efery mud-bank with that hook. Ay don’t want to lose der _Mary Rebecca_. +She’s all Ay got.” + +“No, no,” Charley hurried to explain. “We can put the end of the hook +through the bottom from the outside, and fasten it on the inside with a +nut. After it’s done its work, why, all we have to do is to go down into +the hold, unscrew the nut, and out drops the hook. Then drive a wooden +peg into the hole, and the _Mary Rebecca_ will be all right again.” + +Ole Ericsen was obstinate for a long time; but in the end, after we had +had dinner with him, he was brought round to consent. + +“Ay do it, by Yupiter!” he said, striking one huge fist into the palm of +the other hand. “But yust hurry you up wid der hook. Der _Mary Rebecca_ +slides into der water to-night.” + +It was Saturday, and Charley had need to hurry. We headed for the +shipyard blacksmith shop, where, under Charley’s directions, a most +generously curved book of heavy steel was made. Back we hastened to the +_Mary Rebecca_. Aft of the great centre-board case, through what was +properly her keel, a hole was bored. The end of the hook was inserted +from the outside, and Charley, on the inside, screwed the nut on tightly. +As it stood complete, the hook projected over a foot beneath the bottom +of the schooner. Its curve was something like the curve of a sickle, but +deeper. + +In the late afternoon the _Mary Rebecca_ was launched, and preparations +were finished for the start up-river next morning. Charley and Ole +intently studied the evening sky for signs of wind, for without a good +breeze our project was doomed to failure. They agreed that there were +all the signs of a stiff westerly wind—not the ordinary afternoon +sea-breeze, but a half-gale, which even then was springing up. + +Next morning found their predictions verified. The sun was shining +brightly, but something more than a half-gale was shrieking up the +Carquinez Straits, and the _Mary Rebecca_ got under way with two reefs in +her mainsail and one in her foresail. We found it quite rough in the +Straits and in Suisun Bay; but as the water grew more land-locked it +became calm, though without let-up in the wind. + +Off Ship Island Light the reefs were shaken out, and at Charley’s +suggestion a big fisherman’s staysail was made all ready for hoisting, +and the maintopsail, bunched into a cap at the masthead, was overhauled +so that it could be set on an instant’s notice. + +We were tearing along, wing-and-wing, before the wind, foresail to +starboard and mainsail to port, as we came upon the salmon fleet. There +they were, boats and nets, as on that first Sunday when they had bested +us, strung out evenly over the river as far as we could see. A narrow +space on the right-hand side of the channel was left clear for +steamboats, but the rest of the river was covered with the +wide-stretching nets. The narrow space was our logical course, but +Charley, at the wheel, steered the _Mary Rebecca_ straight for the nets. +This did not cause any alarm among the fishermen, because up-river +sailing craft are always provided with “shoes” on the ends of their +keels, which permit them to slip over the nets without fouling them. + +“Now she takes it!” Charley cried, as we dashed across the middle of a +line of floats which marked a net. At one end of this line was a small +barrel buoy, at the other the two fishermen in their boat. Buoy and boat +at once began to draw together, and the fishermen to cry out, as they +were jerked after us. A couple of minutes later we hooked a second net, +and then a third, and in this fashion we tore straight up through the +centre of the fleet. + +The consternation we spread among the fishermen was tremendous. As fast +as we hooked a net the two ends of it, buoy and boat, came together as +they dragged out astern; and so many buoys and boats, coming together at +such breakneck speed, kept the fishermen on the jump to avoid smashing +into one another. Also, they shouted at us like mad to heave to into the +wind, for they took it as some drunken prank on the part of scow-sailors, +little dreaming that we were the fish patrol. + +The drag of a single net is very heavy, and Charley and Ole Ericsen +decided that even in such a wind ten nets were all the _Mary Rebecca_ +could take along with her. So when we had hooked ten nets, with ten +boats containing twenty men streaming along behind us, we veered to the +left out of the fleet and headed toward Collinsville. + +We were all jubilant. Charley was handling the wheel as though he were +steering the winning yacht home in a race. The two sailors who made up +the crew of the _Mary Rebecca_, were grinning and joking. Ole Ericsen +was rubbing his huge hands in child-like glee. + +“Ay tank you fish patrol fallers never ban so lucky as when you sail with +Ole Ericsen,” he was saying, when a rifle cracked sharply astern, and a +bullet gouged along the newly painted cabin, glanced on a nail, and sang +shrilly onward into space. + +This was too much for Ole Ericsen. At sight of his beloved paintwork +thus defaced, he jumped up and shook his fist at the fishermen; but a +second bullet smashed into the cabin not six inches from his head, and he +dropped down to the deck under cover of the rail. + +All the fishermen had rifles, and they now opened a general fusillade. +We were all driven to cover—even Charley, who was compelled to desert the +wheel. Had it not been for the heavy drag of the nets, we would +inevitably have broached to at the mercy of the enraged fishermen. But +the nets, fastened to the bottom of the _Mary Rebecca_ well aft, held her +stern into the wind, and she continued to plough on, though somewhat +erratically. + +Charley, lying on the deck, could just manage to reach the lower spokes +of the wheel; but while he could steer after a fashion, it was very +awkward. Ole Ericsen bethought himself of a large piece of sheet steel +in the empty hold. + +It was in fact a plate from the side of the _New Jersey_, a steamer which +had recently been wrecked outside the Golden Gate, and in the salving of +which the _Mary Rebecca_ had taken part. + +Crawling carefully along the deck, the two sailors, Ole, and myself got +the heavy plate on deck and aft, where we reared it as a shield between +the wheel and the fishermen. The bullets whanged and banged against it +till it rang like a bull’s-eye, but Charley grinned in its shelter, and +coolly went on steering. + +So we raced along, behind us a howling, screaming bedlam of wrathful +Greeks, Collinsville ahead, and bullets spat-spatting all around us. + +“Ole,” Charley said in a faint voice, “I don’t know what we’re going to +do.” + +Ole Ericsen, lying on his back close to the rail and grinning upward at +the sky, turned over on his side and looked at him. “Ay tank we go into +Collinsville yust der same,” he said. + +“But we can’t stop,” Charley groaned. “I never thought of it, but we +can’t stop.” + +A look of consternation slowly overspread Ole Ericsen’s broad face. It +was only too true. We had a hornet’s nest on our hands, and to stop at +Collinsville would be to have it about our ears. + +“Every man Jack of them has a gun,” one of the sailors remarked +cheerfully. + +“Yes, and a knife, too,” the other sailor added. + +It was Ole Ericsen’s turn to groan. “What for a Svaidish faller like me +monkey with none of my biziness, I don’t know,” he soliloquized. + +A bullet glanced on the stern and sang off to starboard like a spiteful +bee. “There’s nothing to do but plump the _Mary Rebecca_ ashore and run +for it,” was the verdict of the first cheerful sailor. + +“And leaf der _Mary Rebecca_?” Ole demanded, with unspeakable horror in +his voice. + +“Not unless you want to,” was the response. “But I don’t want to be +within a thousand miles of her when those fellers come aboard”—indicating +the bedlam of excited Greeks towing behind. + +We were right in at Collinsville then, and went foaming by within +biscuit-toss of the wharf. + +“I only hope the wind holds out,” Charley said, stealing a glance at our +prisoners. + +“What of der wind?” Ole demanded disconsolately. “Der river will not +hold out, and then . . . and then . . .” + +“It’s head for tall timber, and the Greeks take the hindermost,” adjudged +the cheerful sailor, while Ole was stuttering over what would happen when +we came to the end of the river. + +We had now reached a dividing of the ways. To the left was the mouth of +the Sacramento River, to the right the mouth of the San Joaquin. The +cheerful sailor crept forward and jibed over the foresail as Charley put +the helm to starboard and we swerved to the right into the San Joaquin. +The wind, from which we had been running away on an even keel, now caught +us on our beam, and the _Mary Rebecca_ was pressed down on her port side +as if she were about to capsize. + +Still we dashed on, and still the fishermen dashed on behind. The value +of their nets was greater than the fines they would have to pay for +violating the fish laws; so to cast off from their nets and escape, which +they could easily do, would profit them nothing. Further, they remained +by their nets instinctively, as a sailor remains by his ship. And still +further, the desire for vengeance was roused, and we could depend upon it +that they would follow us to the ends of the earth, if we undertook to +tow them that far. + +The rifle-firing had ceased, and we looked astern to see what our +prisoners were doing. The boats were strung along at unequal distances +apart, and we saw the four nearest ones bunching together. This was done +by the boat ahead trailing a small rope astern to the one behind. When +this was caught, they would cast off from their net and heave in on the +line till they were brought up to the boat in front. So great was the +speed at which we were travelling, however, that this was very slow work. +Sometimes the men would strain to their utmost and fail to get in an inch +of the rope; at other times they came ahead more rapidly. + +When the four boats were near enough together for a man to pass from one +to another, one Greek from each of three got into the nearest boat to us, +taking his rifle with him. This made five in the foremost boat, and it +was plain that their intention was to board us. This they undertook to +do, by main strength and sweat, running hand over hand the float-line of +a net. And though it was slow, and they stopped frequently to rest, they +gradually drew nearer. + +Charley smiled at their efforts, and said, “Give her the topsail, Ole.” + +The cap at the mainmast head was broken out, and sheet and downhaul +pulled flat, amid a scattering rifle fire from the boats; and the _Mary +Rebecca_ lay over and sprang ahead faster than ever. + +But the Greeks were undaunted. Unable, at the increased speed, to draw +themselves nearer by means of their hands, they rigged from the blocks of +their boat sail what sailors call a “watch-tackle.” One of them, held by +the legs by his mates, would lean far over the bow and make the tackle +fast to the float-line. Then they would heave in on the tackle till the +blocks were together, when the manœuvre would be repeated. + +“Have to give her the staysail,” Charley said. + +Ole Ericsen looked at the straining _Mary Rebecca_ and shook his head. +“It will take der masts out of her,” he said. + +“And we’ll be taken out of her if you don’t,” Charley replied. + +Ole shot an anxious glance at his masts, another at the boat load of +armed Greeks, and consented. + +The five men were in the bow of the boat—a bad place when a craft is +towing. I was watching the behavior of their boat as the great +fisherman’s staysail, far, far larger than the topsail and used only in +light breezes, was broken out. As the _Mary Rebecca_ lurched forward +with a tremendous jerk, the nose of the boat ducked down into the water, +and the men tumbled over one another in a wild rush into the stern to +save the boat from being dragged sheer under water. + +“That settles them!” Charley remarked, though he was anxiously studying +the behavior of the _Mary Rebecca_, which was being driven under far more +canvas than she was rightly able to carry. + +“Next stop is Antioch!” announced the cheerful sailor, after the manner +of a railway conductor. “And next comes Merryweather!” + +“Come here, quick,” Charley said to me. + +I crawled across the deck and stood upright beside him in the shelter of +the sheet steel. + +“Feel in my inside pocket,” he commanded, “and get my notebook. That’s +right. Tear out a blank page and write what I tell you.” + +And this is what I wrote: + + Telephone to Merryweather, to the sheriff, the constable, or the + judge. Tell them we are coming and to turn out the town. Arm + everybody. Have them down on the wharf to meet us or we are gone + gooses. + +“Now make it good and fast to that marlin-spike, and stand by to toss it +ashore.” + +I did as he directed. By then we were close to Antioch. The wind was +shouting through our rigging, the _Mary Rebecca_ was half over on her +side and rushing ahead like an ocean greyhound. The seafaring folk of +Antioch had seen us breaking out topsail and staysail, a most reckless +performance in such weather, and had hurried to the wharf-ends in little +groups to find out what was the matter. + +Straight down the water front we boomed, Charley edging in till a man +could almost leap ashore. When he gave the signal I tossed the +marlinspike. It struck the planking of the wharf a resounding smash, +bounced along fifteen or twenty feet, and was pounced upon by the amazed +onlookers. + +It all happened in a flash, for the next minute Antioch was behind and we +were heeling it up the San Joaquin toward Merryweather, six miles away. +The river straightened out here into its general easterly course, and we +squared away before the wind, wing-and-wing once more, the foresail +bellying out to starboard. + +Ole Ericsen seemed sunk into a state of stolid despair. Charley and the +two sailors were looking hopeful, as they had good reason to be. +Merryweather was a coal-mining town, and, it being Sunday, it was +reasonable to expect the men to be in town. Further, the coal-miners had +never lost any love for the Greek fishermen, and were pretty certain to +render us hearty assistance. + +We strained our eyes for a glimpse of the town, and the first sight we +caught of it gave us immense relief. The wharves were black with men. +As we came closer, we could see them still arriving, stringing down the +main street, guns in their hands and on the run. Charley glanced astern +at the fishermen with a look of ownership in his eye which till then had +been missing. The Greeks were plainly overawed by the display of armed +strength and were putting their own rifles away. + +We took in topsail and staysail, dropped the main peak, and as we got +abreast of the principal wharf jibed the mainsail. The _Mary Rebecca_ +shot around into the wind, the captive fishermen describing a great arc +behind her, and forged ahead till she lost way, when lines we’re flung +ashore and she was made fast. This was accomplished under a hurricane of +cheers from the delighted miners. + +Ole Ericsen heaved a great sigh. “Ay never tank Ay see my wife never +again,” he confessed. + +“Why, we were never in any danger,” said Charley. + +Ole looked at him incredulously. + +“Sure, I mean it,” Charley went on. “All we had to do, any time, was to +let go our end—as I am going to do now, so that those Greeks can untangle +their nets.” + +He went below with a monkey-wrench, unscrewed the nut, and let the hook +drop off. When the Greeks had hauled their nets into their boats and +made everything shipshape, a posse of citizens took them off our hands +and led them away to jail. + +“Ay tank Ay ban a great big fool,” said Ole Ericsen. But he changed his +mind when the admiring townspeople crowded aboard to shake hands with +him, and a couple of enterprising newspaper men took photographs of the +_Mary Rebecca_ and her captain. + + + + +DEMETRIOS CONTOS + + +IT must not be thought, from what I have told of the Greek fishermen, +that they were altogether bad. Far from it. But they were rough men, +gathered together in isolated communities and fighting with the elements +for a livelihood. They lived far away from the law and its workings, did +not understand it, and thought it tyranny. Especially did the fish laws +seem tyrannical. And because of this, they looked upon the men of the +fish patrol as their natural enemies. + +We menaced their lives, or their living, which is the same thing, in many +ways. We confiscated illegal traps and nets, the materials of which had +cost them considerable sums and the making of which required weeks of +labor. We prevented them from catching fish at many times and seasons, +which was equivalent to preventing them from making as good a living as +they might have made had we not been in existence. And when we captured +them, they were brought into the courts of law, where heavy cash fines +were collected from them. As a result, they hated us vindictively. As +the dog is the natural enemy of the cat, the snake of man, so were we of +the fish patrol the natural enemies of the fishermen. + +But it is to show that they could act generously as well as hate bitterly +that this story of Demetrios Contos is told. Demetrios Contos lived in +Vallejo. Next to Big Alec, he was the largest, bravest, and most +influential man among the Greeks. He had given us no trouble, and I +doubt if he would ever have clashed with us had he not invested in a new +salmon boat. This boat was the cause of all the trouble. He had had it +built upon his own model, in which the lines of the general salmon boat +were somewhat modified. + +To his high elation he found his new boat very fast—in fact, faster than +any other boat on the bay or rivers. Forthwith he grew proud and +boastful: and, our raid with the _Mary Rebecca_ on the Sunday salmon +fishers having wrought fear in their hearts, he sent a challenge up to +Benicia. One of the local fishermen conveyed it to us; it was to the +effect that Demetrios Contos would sail up from Vallejo on the following +Sunday, and in the plain sight of Benicia set his net and catch salmon, +and that Charley Le Grant, patrolman, might come and get him if he could. +Of course Charley and I had heard nothing of the new boat. Our own boat +was pretty fast, and we were not afraid to have a brush with any other +that happened along. + +Sunday came. The challenge had been bruited abroad, and the fishermen +and seafaring folk of Benicia turned out to a man, crowding Steamboat +Wharf till it looked like the grand stand at a football match. Charley +and I had been sceptical, but the fact of the crowd convinced us that +there was something in Demetrios Contos’s dare. + +In the afternoon, when the sea-breeze had picked up in strength, his sail +hove into view as he bowled along before the wind. He tacked a score of +feet from the wharf, waved his hand theatrically, like a knight about to +enter the lists, received a hearty cheer in return, and stood away into +the Straits for a couple of hundred yards. Then he lowered sail, and, +drifting the boat sidewise by means of the wind, proceeded to set his +net. He did not set much of it, possibly fifty feet; yet Charley and I +were thunderstruck at the man’s effrontery. We did not know at the time, +but we learned afterward, that the net he used was old and worthless. It +_could_ catch fish, true; but a catch of any size would have torn it to +pieces. + +Charley shook his head and said: + +“I confess, it puzzles me. What if he has out only fifty feet? He could +never get it in if we once started for him. And why does he come here +anyway, flaunting his law-breaking in our faces? Right in our home town, +too.” + +Charley’s voice took on an aggrieved tone, and he continued for some +minutes to inveigh against the brazenness of Demetrios Contos. + +In the meantime, the man in question was lolling in the stern of his boat +and watching the net floats. When a large fish is meshed in a gill-net, +the floats by their agitation advertise the fact. And they evidently +advertised it to Demetrios, for he pulled in about a dozen feet of net, +and held aloft for a moment, before he flung it into the bottom of the +boat, a big, glistening salmon. It was greeted by the audience on the +wharf with round after round of cheers. This was more than Charley could +stand. + +“Come on, lad,” he called to me; and we lost no time jumping into our +salmon boat and getting up sail. + +The crowd shouted warning to Demetrios, and as we darted out from the +wharf we saw him slash his worthless net clear with a long knife. His +sail was all ready to go up, and a moment later it fluttered in the +sunshine. He ran aft, drew in the sheet, and filled on the long tack +toward the Contra Costa Hills. + +By this time we were not more than thirty feet astern. Charley was +jubilant. He knew our boat was fast, and he knew, further, that in fine +sailing few men were his equals. He was confident that we should surely +catch Demetrios, and I shared his confidence. But somehow we did not +seem to gain. + +It was a pretty sailing breeze. We were gliding sleekly through the +water, but Demetrios was slowly sliding away from us. And not only was +he going faster, but he was eating into the wind a fraction of a point +closer than we. This was sharply impressed upon us when he went about +under the Contra Costa Hills and passed us on the other tack fully one +hundred feet dead to windward. + +“Whew!” Charley exclaimed. “Either that boat is a daisy, or we’ve got a +five-gallon coal-oil can fast to our keel!” + +It certainly looked it one way or the other. And by the time Demetrios +made the Sonoma Hills, on the other side of the Straits, we were so +hopelessly outdistanced that Charley told me to slack off the sheet, and +we squared away for Benicia. The fishermen on Steamboat Wharf showered +us with ridicule when we returned and tied up. Charley and I got out and +walked away, feeling rather sheepish, for it is a sore stroke to one’s +pride when he thinks he has a good boat and knows how to sail it, and +another man comes along and beats him. + +Charley mooned over it for a couple of days; then word was brought to us, +as before, that on the next Sunday Demetrios Contos would repeat his +performance. Charley roused himself. He had our boat out of the water, +cleaned and repainted its bottom, made a trifling alteration about the +centre-board, overhauled the running gear, and sat up nearly all of +Saturday night sewing on a new and much larger sail. So large did he +make it, in fact, that additional ballast was imperative, and we stowed +away nearly five hundred extra pounds of old railroad iron in the bottom +of the boat. + +Sunday came, and with it came Demetrios Contos, to break the law +defiantly in open day. Again we had the afternoon sea-breeze, and again +Demetrios cut loose some forty or more feet of his rotten net, and got up +sail and under way under our very noses. But he had anticipated +Charley’s move, and his own sail peaked higher than ever, while a whole +extra cloth had been added to the after leech. + +It was nip and tuck across to the Contra Costa Hills, neither of us +seeming to gain or to lose. But by the time we had made the return tack +to the Sonoma Hills, we could see that, while we footed it at about equal +speed, Demetrios had eaten into the wind the least bit more than we. Yet +Charley was sailing our boat as finely and delicately as it was possible +to sail it, and getting more out of it than he ever had before. + +Of course, he could have drawn his revolver and fired at Demetrios; but +we had long since found it contrary to our natures to shoot at a fleeing +man guilty of only a petty offence. Also a sort of tacit agreement +seemed to have been reached between the patrolmen and the fishermen. If +we did not shoot while they ran away, they, in turn, did not fight if we +once laid hands on them. Thus Demetrios Contos ran away from us, and we +did no more than try our best to overtake him; and, in turn, if our boat +proved faster than his, or was sailed better, he would, we knew, make no +resistance when we caught up with him. + +With our large sails and the healthy breeze romping up the Carquinez +Straits, we found that our sailing was what is called “ticklish.” We had +to be constantly on the alert to avoid a capsize, and while Charley +steered I held the main-sheet in my hand with but a single turn round a +pin, ready to let go at any moment. Demetrios, we could see, sailing his +boat alone, had his hands full. + +But it was a vain undertaking for us to attempt to catch him. Out of his +inner consciousness he had evolved a boat that was better than ours. And +though Charley sailed fully as well, if not the least bit better, the +boat he sailed was not so good as the Greek’s. + +“Slack away the sheet,” Charley commanded; and as our boat fell off +before the wind, Demetrios’s mocking laugh floated down to us. + +Charley shook his head, saying, “It’s no use. Demetrios has the better +boat. If he tries his performance again, we must meet it with some new +scheme.” + +This time it was my imagination that came to the rescue. + +“What’s the matter,” I suggested, on the Wednesday following, “with my +chasing Demetrios in the boat next Sunday, while you wait for him on the +wharf at Vallejo when he arrives?” + +Charley considered it a moment and slapped his knee. + +“A good idea! You’re beginning to use that head of yours. A credit to +your teacher, I must say.” + +“But you mustn’t chase him too far,” he went on, the next moment, “or +he’ll head out into San Pablo Bay instead of running home to Vallejo, and +there I’ll be, standing lonely on the wharf and waiting in vain for him +to arrive.” + +On Thursday Charley registered an objection to my plan. + +“Everybody’ll know I’ve gone to Vallejo, and you can depend upon it that +Demetrios will know, too. I’m afraid we’ll have to give up the idea.” + +This objection was only too valid, and for the rest of the day I +struggled under my disappointment. But that night a new way seemed to +open to me, and in my eagerness I awoke Charley from a sound sleep. + +“Well,” he grunted, “what’s the matter? House afire?” + +“No,” I replied, “but my head is. Listen to this. On Sunday you and I +will be around Benicia up to the very moment Demetrios’s sail heaves into +sight. This will lull everybody’s suspicions. Then, when Demetrios’s +sail does heave in sight, do you stroll leisurely away and up-town. All +the fishermen will think you’re beaten and that you know you’re beaten.” + +“So far, so good,” Charley commented, while I paused to catch breath. + +“And very good indeed,” I continued proudly. “You stroll carelessly +up-town, but when you’re once out of sight you leg it for all you’re +worth for Dan Maloney’s. Take the little mare of his, and strike out on +the country road for Vallejo. The road’s in fine condition, and you can +make it in quicker time than Demetrios can beat all the way down against +the wind.” + +“And I’ll arrange right away for the mare, first thing in the morning,” +Charley said, accepting the modified plan without hesitation. + +“But, I say,” he said, a little later, this time waking _me_ out of a +sound sleep. + +I could hear him chuckling in the dark. + +“I say, lad, isn’t it rather a novelty for the fish patrol to be taking +to horseback?” + +“Imagination,” I answered. “It’s what you’re always preaching—‘keep +thinking one thought ahead of the other fellow, and you’re bound to win +out.’” + +“He! he!” he chuckled. “And if one thought ahead, including a mare, +doesn’t take the other fellow’s breath away this time, I’m not your +humble servant, Charley Le Grant.” + +“But can you manage the boat alone?” he asked, on Friday. “Remember, +we’ve a ripping big sail on her.” + +I argued my proficiency so well that he did not refer to the matter again +till Saturday, when he suggested removing one whole cloth from the after +leech. I guess it was the disappointment written on my face that made +him desist; for I, also, had a pride in my boat-sailing abilities, and I +was almost wild to get out alone with the big sail and go tearing down +the Carquinez Straits in the wake of the flying Greek. + +As usual, Sunday and Demetrios Contos arrived together. It had become +the regular thing for the fishermen to assemble on Steamboat Wharf to +greet his arrival and to laugh at our discomfiture. He lowered sail a +couple of hundred yards out and set his customary fifty feet of rotten +net. + +“I suppose this nonsense will keep up as long as his old net holds out,” +Charley grumbled, with intention, in the hearing of several of the +Greeks. + +“Den I give-a heem my old-a net-a,” one of them spoke up, promptly and +maliciously. + +“I don’t care,” Charley answered. “I’ve got some old net myself he can +have—if he’ll come around and ask for it.” + +They all laughed at this, for they could afford to be sweet-tempered with +a man so badly outwitted as Charley was. + +“Well, so long, lad,” Charley called to me a moment later. “I think I’ll +go up-town to Maloney’s.” + +“Let me take the boat out?” I asked. + +“If you want to,” was his answer, as he turned on his heel and walked +slowly away. + +Demetrios pulled two large salmon out of his net, and I jumped into the +boat. The fishermen crowded around in a spirit of fun, and when I +started to get up sail overwhelmed me with all sorts of jocular advice. +They even offered extravagant bets to one another that I would surely +catch Demetrios, and two of them, styling themselves the committee of +judges, gravely asked permission to come along with me to see how I did +it. + +But I was in no hurry. I waited to give Charley all the time I could, +and I pretended dissatisfaction with the stretch of the sail and slightly +shifted the small tackle by which the huge sprit forces up the peak. It +was not until I was sure that Charley had reached Dan Maloney’s and was +on the little mare’s back, that I cast off from the wharf and gave the +big sail to the wind. A stout puff filled it and suddenly pressed the +lee gunwale down till a couple of buckets of water came inboard. A +little thing like this will happen to the best small-boat sailors, and +yet, though I instantly let go the sheet and righted, I was cheered +sarcastically, as though I had been guilty of a very awkward blunder. + +When Demetrios saw only one person in the fish patrol boat, and that one +a boy, he proceeded to play with me. Making a short tack out, with me +not thirty feet behind, he returned, with his sheet a little free, to +Steamboat Wharf. And there he made short tacks, and turned and twisted +and ducked around, to the great delight of his sympathetic audience. I +was right behind him all the time, and I dared to do whatever he did, +even when he squared away before the wind and jibed his big sail over—a +most dangerous trick with such a sail in such a wind. + +He depended upon the brisk sea breeze and the strong ebb-tide, which +together kicked up a nasty sea, to bring me to grief. But I was on my +mettle, and never in all my life did I sail a boat better than on that +day. I was keyed up to concert pitch, my brain was working smoothly and +quickly, my hands never fumbled once, and it seemed that I almost divined +the thousand little things which a small-boat sailor must be taking into +consideration every second. + +It was Demetrios who came to grief instead. Something went wrong with +his centre-board, so that it jammed in the case and would not go all the +way down. In a moment’s breathing space, which he had gained from me by +a clever trick, I saw him working impatiently with the centre-board, +trying to force it down. I gave him little time, and he was compelled +quickly to return to the tiller and sheet. + +The centre-board made him anxious. He gave over playing with me, and +started on the long beat to Vallejo. To my joy, on the first long tack +across, I found that I could eat into the wind just a little bit closer +than he. Here was where another man in the boat would have been of value +to him; for, with me but a few feet astern, he did not dare let go the +tiller and run amidships to try to force down the centre-board. + +Unable to hang on as close in the eye of the wind as formerly, he +proceeded to slack his sheet a trifle and to ease off a bit, in order to +outfoot me. This I permitted him to do till I had worked to windward, +when I bore down upon him. As I drew close, he feinted at coming about. +This led me to shoot into the wind to forestall him. But it was only a +feint, cleverly executed, and he held back to his course while I hurried +to make up lost ground. + +He was undeniably smarter than I when it came to manœuvring. Time after +time I all but had him, and each time he tricked me and escaped. +Besides, the wind was freshening, constantly, and each of us had his +hands full to avoid capsizing. As for my boat, it could not have been +kept afloat but for the extra ballast. I sat cocked over the weather +gunwale, tiller in one hand and sheet in the other; and the sheet, with a +single turn around a pin, I was very often forced to let go in the +severer puffs. This allowed the sail to spill the wind, which was +equivalent to taking off so much driving power, and of course I lost +ground. My consolation was that Demetrios was as often compelled to do +the same thing. + +The strong ebb-tide, racing down the Straits in the teeth of the wind, +caused an unusually heavy and spiteful sea, which dashed aboard +continually. I was dripping wet, and even the sail was wet half-way up +the after leech. Once I did succeed in outmanœuvring Demetrios, so that +my bow bumped into him amidships. Here was where I should have had +another man. Before I could run forward and leap aboard, he shoved the +boats apart with an oar, laughing mockingly in my face as he did so. + +We were now at the mouth of the Straits, in a bad stretch of water. Here +the Vallejo Straits and the Carquinez Straits rushed directly at each +other. Through the first flowed all the water of Napa River and the +great tide-lands; through the second flowed all the water of Suisun Bay +and the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers. And where such immense bodies +of water, flowing swiftly, clashed together, a terrible tide-rip was +produced. To make it worse, the wind howled up San Pablo Bay for fifteen +miles and drove in a tremendous sea upon the tide-rip. + +Conflicting currents tore about in all directions, colliding, forming +whirlpools, sucks, and boils, and shooting up spitefully into hollow +waves which fell aboard as often from leeward as from windward. And +through it all, confused, driven into a madness of motion, thundered the +great smoking seas from San Pablo Bay. + +I was as wildly excited as the water. The boat was behaving splendidly, +leaping and lurching through the welter like a race-horse. I could +hardly contain myself with the joy of it. The huge sail, the howling +wind, the driving seas, the plunging boat—I, a pygmy, a mere speck in the +midst of it, was mastering the elemental strife, flying through it and +over it, triumphant and victorious. + +And just then, as I roared along like a conquering hero, the boat +received a frightful smash and came instantly to a dead stop. I was +flung forward and into the bottom. As I sprang up I caught a fleeting +glimpse of a greenish, barnacle-covered object, and knew it at once for +what it was, that terror of navigation, a sunken pile. No man may guard +against such a thing. Water-logged and floating just beneath the +surface, it was impossible to sight it in the troubled water in time to +escape. + +The whole bow of the boat must have been crushed in, for in a few seconds +the boat was half full. Then a couple of seas filled it, and it sank +straight down, dragged to bottom by the heavy ballast. So quickly did it +all happen that I was entangled in the sail and drawn under. When I +fought my way to the surface, suffocating, my lungs almost bursting, I +could see nothing of the oars. They must have been swept away by the +chaotic currents. I saw Demetrios Contos looking back from his boat, and +heard the vindictive and mocking tones of his voice as he shouted +exultantly. He held steadily on his course, leaving me to perish. + +There was nothing to do but to swim for it, which, in that wild +confusion, was at the best a matter of but a few moments. Holding my +breath and working with my hands, I managed to get off my heavy sea-boots +and my jacket. Yet there was very little breath I could catch to hold, +and I swiftly discovered that it was not so much a matter of swimming as +of breathing. + +I was beaten and buffeted, smashed under by the great San Pablo +whitecaps, and strangled by the hollow tide-rip waves which flung +themselves into my eyes, nose, and mouth. Then the strange sucks would +grip my legs and drag me under, to spout me up in some fierce boiling, +where, even as I tried to catch my breath, a great whitecap would crash +down upon my head. + +It was impossible to survive any length of time. I was breathing more +water than air, and drowning all the time. My senses began to leave me, +my head to whirl around. I struggled on, spasmodically, instinctively, +and was barely half conscious when I felt myself caught by the shoulders +and hauled over the gunwale of a boat. + +For some time I lay across a seat where I had been flung, face downward, +and with the water running out of my mouth. After a while, still weak +and faint, I turned around to see who was my rescuer. And there, in the +stern, sheet in one hand and tiller in the other, grinning and nodding +good-naturedly, sat Demetrios Contos. He had intended to leave me to +drown,—he said so afterward,—but his better self had fought the battle, +conquered, and sent him back to me. + +“You all-a right?” he asked. + +I managed to shape a “yes” on my lips, though I could not yet speak. + +“You sail-a de boat verr-a good-a,” he said. “So good-a as a man.” + +A compliment from Demetrios Contos was a compliment indeed, and I keenly +appreciated it, though I could only nod my head in acknowledgment. + +We held no more conversation, for I was busy recovering and he was busy +with the boat. He ran in to the wharf at Vallejo, made the boat fast, +and helped me out. Then it was, as we both stood on the wharf, that +Charley stepped out from behind a net-rack and put his hand on Demetrios +Contos’s arm. + +“He saved my life, Charley,” I protested; “and I don’t think he ought to +be arrested.” + +A puzzled expression came into Charley’s face, which cleared immediately +after, in a way it had when he made up his mind. + +“I can’t help it, lad,” he said kindly. “I can’t go back on my duty, and +it’s plain duty to arrest him. To-day is Sunday; there are two salmon in +his boat which he caught to-day. What else can I do?” + +“But he saved my life,” I persisted, unable to make any other argument. + +Demetrios Contos’s face went black with rage when he learned Charley’s +judgment. He had a sense of being unfairly treated. The better part of +his nature had triumphed, he had performed a generous act and saved a +helpless enemy, and in return the enemy was taking him to jail. + +Charley and I were out of sorts with each other when we went back to +Benicia. I stood for the spirit of the law and not the letter; but by +the letter Charley made his stand. As far as he could see, there was +nothing else for him to do. The law said distinctly that no salmon +should be caught on Sunday. He was a patrolman, and it was his duty to +enforce that law. That was all there was to it. He had done his duty, +and his conscience was clear. Nevertheless, the whole thing seemed +unjust to me, and I felt very sorry for Demetrios Contos. + +Two days later we went down to Vallejo to the trial. I had to go along +as a witness, and it was the most hateful task that I ever performed in +my life when I testified on the witness stand to seeing Demetrios catch +the two salmon Charley had captured him with. + +Demetrios had engaged a lawyer, but his case was hopeless. The jury was +out only fifteen minutes, and returned a verdict of guilty. The judge +sentenced Demetrios to pay a fine of one hundred dollars or go to jail +for fifty days. + +Charley stepped up to the clerk of the court. “I want to pay that fine,” +he said, at the same time placing five twenty-dollar gold pieces on the +desk. “It—it was the only way out of it, lad,” he stammered, turning to +me. + +The moisture rushed into my eyes as I seized his hand. “I want to pay—” +I began. + +“To pay your half?” he interrupted. “I certainly shall expect you to pay +it.” + +In the meantime Demetrios had been informed by his lawyer that his fee +likewise had been paid by Charley. + +Demetrios came over to shake Charley’s hand, and all his warm Southern +blood flamed in his face. Then, not to be outdone in generosity, he +insisted on paying his fine and lawyer’s fee himself, and flew half-way +into a passion because Charley refused to let him. + +More than anything else we ever did, I think, this action of Charley’s +impressed upon the fishermen the deeper significance of the law. Also +Charley was raised high in their esteem, while I came in for a little +share of praise as a boy who knew how to sail a boat. Demetrios Contos +not only never broke the law again, but he became a very good friend of +ours, and on more than one occasion he ran up to Benicia to have a gossip +with us. + + + + +YELLOW HANDKERCHIEF + + +“I’M not wanting to dictate to you, lad,” Charley said; “but I’m very +much against your making a last raid. You’ve gone safely through rough +times with rough men, and it would be a shame to have something happen to +you at the very end.” + +“But how can I get out of making a last raid?” I demanded, with the +cocksureness of youth. “There always has to be a last, you know, to +anything.” + +Charley crossed his legs, leaned back, and considered the problem. “Very +true. But why not call the capture of Demetrios Contos the last? You’re +back from it safe and sound and hearty, for all your good wetting, +and—and—” His voice broke and he could not speak for a moment. “And I +could never forgive myself if anything happened to you now.” + +I laughed at Charley’s fears while I gave in to the claims of his +affection, and agreed to consider the last raid already performed. We +had been together for two years, and now I was leaving the fish patrol in +order to go back and finish my education. I had earned and saved money +to put me through three years at the high school, and though the +beginning of the term was several months away, I intended doing a lot of +studying for the entrance examinations. + +My belongings were packed snugly in a sea-chest, and I was all ready to +buy my ticket and ride down on the train to Oakland, when Neil Partington +arrived in Benicia. The _Reindeer_ was needed immediately for work far +down on the Lower Bay, and Neil said he intended to run straight for +Oakland. As that was his home and as I was to live with his family while +going to school, he saw no reason, he said, why I should not put my chest +aboard and come along. + +So the chest went aboard, and in the middle of the afternoon we hoisted +the _Reindeer’s_ big mainsail and cast off. It was tantalizing fall +weather. The sea-breeze, which had blown steadily all summer, was gone, +and in its place were capricious winds and murky skies which made the +time of arriving anywhere extremely problematical. We started on the +first of the ebb, and as we slipped down the Carquinez Straits, I looked +my last for some time upon Benicia and the bight at Turner’s Shipyard, +where we had besieged the _Lancashire Queen_, and had captured Big Alec, +the King of the Greeks. And at the mouth of the Straits I looked with +not a little interest upon the spot where a few days before I should have +drowned but for the good that was in the nature of Demetrios Contos. + +A great wall of fog advanced across San Pablo Bay to meet us, and in a +few minutes the _Reindeer_ was running blindly through the damp +obscurity. Charley, who was steering, seemed to have an instinct for +that kind of work. How he did it, he himself confessed that he did not +know; but he had a way of calculating winds, currents, distance, time, +drift, and sailing speed that was truly marvellous. + +“It looks as though it were lifting,” Neil Partington said, a couple of +hours after we had entered the fog. “Where do you say we are, Charley?” + +Charley looked at his watch, “Six o’clock, and three hours more of ebb,” +he remarked casually. + +“But where do you say we are?” Neil insisted. + +Charley pondered a moment, and then answered, “The tide has edged us over +a bit out of our course, but if the fog lifts right now, as it is going +to lift, you’ll find we’re not more than a thousand miles off McNear’s +Landing.” + +“You might be a little more definite by a few miles, anyway,” Neil +grumbled, showing by his tone that he disagreed. + +“All right, then,” Charley said, conclusively, “not less than a quarter +of a mile, not more than a half.” + +The wind freshened with a couple of little puffs, and the fog thinned +perceptibly. + +“McNear’s is right off there,” Charley said, pointing directly into the +fog on our weather beam. + +The three of us were peering intently in that direction, when the +_Reindeer_ struck with a dull crash and came to a standstill. We ran +forward, and found her bowsprit entangled in the tanned rigging of a +short, chunky mast. She had collided, head on, with a Chinese junk lying +at anchor. + +At the moment we arrived forward, five Chinese, like so many bees, came +swarming out of the little ’tween-decks cabin, the sleep still in their +eyes. + +Leading them came a big, muscular man, conspicuous for his pock-marked +face and the yellow silk handkerchief swathed about his head. It was +Yellow Handkerchief, the Chinaman whom we had arrested for illegal +shrimp-fishing the year before, and who, at that time, had nearly sunk +the _Reindeer_, as he had nearly sunk it now by violating the rules of +navigation. + +“What d’ye mean, you yellow-faced heathen, lying here in a fairway +without a horn a-going?” Charley cried hotly. + +“Mean?” Neil calmly answered. “Just take a look—that’s what he means.” + +Our eyes followed the direction indicated by Neil’s finger, and we saw +the open amidships of the junk, half filled, as we found on closer +examination, with fresh-caught shrimps. Mingled with the shrimps were +myriads of small fish, from a quarter of an inch upward in size. + +Yellow Handkerchief had lifted the trap-net at high-water slack, and, +taking advantage of the concealment offered by the fog, had boldly been +lying by, waiting to lift the net again at low-water slack. + +“Well,” Neil hummed and hawed, “in all my varied and extensive experience +as a fish patrolman, I must say this is the easiest capture I ever made. +What’ll we do with them, Charley?” + +“Tow the junk into San Rafael, of course,” came the answer. Charley +turned to me. “You stand by the junk, lad, and I’ll pass you a towing +line. If the wind doesn’t fail us, we’ll make the creek before the tide +gets too low, sleep at San Rafael, and arrive in Oakland to-morrow by +midday.” + +So saying, Charley and Neil returned to the _Reindeer_ and got under way, +the junk towing astern. I went aft and took charge of the prize, +steering by means of an antiquated tiller and a rudder with large, +diamond-shaped holes, through which the water rushed back and forth. + +By now the last of the fog had vanished, and Charley’s estimate of our +position was confirmed by the sight of McNear’s Landing a short half-mile +away. Following along the west shore, we rounded Point Pedro in plain +view of the Chinese shrimp villages, and a great to-do was raised when +they saw one of their junks towing behind the familiar fish patrol sloop. + +The wind, coming off the land, was rather puffy and uncertain, and it +would have been more to our advantage had it been stronger. San Rafael +Creek, up which we had to go to reach the town and turn over our +prisoners to the authorities, ran through wide-stretching marshes, and +was difficult to navigate on a falling tide, while at low tide it was +impossible to navigate at all. So, with the tide already half-ebbed, it +was necessary for us to make time. This the heavy junk prevented, +lumbering along behind and holding the _Reindeer_ back by just so much +dead weight. + +“Tell those coolies to get up that sail,” Charley finally called to me. +“We don’t want to hang up on the mud flats for the rest of the night.” + +I repeated the order to Yellow Handkerchief, who mumbled it huskily to +his men. He was suffering from a bad cold, which doubled him up in +convulsive coughing spells and made his eyes heavy and bloodshot. This +made him more evil-looking than ever, and when he glared viciously at me +I remembered with a shiver the close shave I had had with him at the time +of his previous arrest. + +His crew sullenly tailed on to the halyards, and the strange, outlandish +sail, lateen in rig and dyed a warm brown, rose in the air. We were +sailing on the wind, and when Yellow Handkerchief flattened down the +sheet the junk forged ahead and the tow-line went slack. Fast as the +_Reindeer_ could sail, the junk outsailed her; and to avoid running her +down I hauled a little closer on the wind. But the junk likewise +outpointed, and in a couple of minutes I was abreast of the _Reindeer_ +and to windward. The tow-line had now tautened, at right angles to the +two boats, and the predicament was laughable. + +“Cast off!” I shouted. + +Charley hesitated. + +“It’s all right,” I added. “Nothing can happen. We’ll make the creek on +this tack, and you’ll be right behind me all the way up to San Rafael.” + +At this Charley cast off, and Yellow Handkerchief sent one of his men +forward to haul in the line. In the gathering darkness I could just make +out the mouth of San Rafael Creek, and by the time we entered it I could +barely see its banks. The _Reindeer_ was fully five minutes astern, and +we continued to leave her astern as we beat up the narrow, winding +channel. With Charley behind us, it seemed I had little to fear from my +five prisoners; but the darkness prevented my keeping a sharp eye on +them, so I transferred my revolver from my trousers pocket to the side +pocket of my coat, where I could more quickly put my hand on it. + +Yellow Handkerchief was the one I feared, and that he knew it and made +use of it, subsequent events will show. He was sitting a few feet away +from me, on what then happened to be the weather side of the junk. I +could scarcely see the outlines of his form, but I soon became convinced +that he was slowly, very slowly, edging closer to me. I watched him +carefully. Steering with my left hand, I slipped my right into my pocket +and got hold of the revolver. + +I saw him shift along for a couple of inches, and I was just about to +order him back—the words were trembling on the tip of my tongue—when I +was struck with great force by a heavy figure that had leaped through the +air upon me from the lee side. It was one of the crew. He pinioned my +right arm so that I could not withdraw my hand from my pocket, and at the +same time clapped his other hand over my mouth. Of course, I could have +struggled away from him and freed my hand or gotten my mouth clear so +that I might cry an alarm, but in a trice Yellow Handkerchief was on top +of me. + +I struggled around to no purpose in the bottom of the junk, while my legs +and arms were tied and my mouth securely bound in what I afterward found +to be a cotton shirt. Then I was left lying in the bottom. Yellow +Handkerchief took the tiller, issuing his orders in whispers; and from +our position at the time, and from the alteration of the sail, which I +could dimly make out above me as a blot against the stars, I knew the +junk was being headed into the mouth of a small slough which emptied at +that point into San Rafael Creek. + +In a couple of minutes we ran softly alongside the bank, and the sail was +silently lowered. The Chinese kept very quiet. Yellow Handkerchief sat +down in the bottom alongside of me, and I could feel him straining to +repress his raspy, hacking cough. Possibly seven or eight minutes later +I heard Charley’s voice as the _Reindeer_ went past the mouth of the +slough. + +“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” I could plainly hear him saying to +Neil, “that the lad has finished with the fish patrol without accident.” + +Here Neil said something which I could not catch, and then Charley’s +voice went on: + +“The youngster takes naturally to the water, and if, when he finishes +high school, he takes a course in navigation and goes deep sea, I see no +reason why he shouldn’t rise to be master of the finest and biggest ship +afloat.” + +It was all very flattering to me, but lying there, bound and gagged by my +own prisoners, with the voices growing faint and fainter as the +_Reindeer_ slipped on through the darkness toward San Rafael, I must say +I was not in quite the proper situation to enjoy my smiling future. With +the _Reindeer_ went my last hope. What was to happen next I could not +imagine, for the Chinese were a different race from mine, and from what I +knew I was confident that fair play was no part of their make-up. + +After waiting a few minutes longer, the crew hoisted the lateen sail, and +Yellow Handkerchief steered down toward the mouth of San Rafael Creek. +The tide was getting lower, and he had difficulty in escaping the +mud-banks. I was hoping he would run aground, but he succeeded in making +the Bay without accident. + +As we passed out of the creek a noisy discussion arose, which I knew +related to me. Yellow Handkerchief was vehement, but the other four as +vehemently opposed him. It was very evident that he advocated doing away +with me and that they were afraid of the consequences. I was familiar +enough with the Chinese character to know that fear alone restrained +them. But what plan they offered in place of Yellow Handkerchief’s +murderous one, I could not make out. + +My feelings, as my fate hung in the balance, may be guessed. The +discussion developed into a quarrel, in the midst of which Yellow +Handkerchief unshipped the heavy tiller and sprang toward me. But his +four companions threw themselves between, and a clumsy struggle took +place for possession of the tiller. In the end Yellow Handkerchief was +overcome, and sullenly returned to the steering, while they soundly +berated him for his rashness. + +Not long after, the sail was run down and the junk slowly urged forward +by means of the sweeps. I felt it ground gently on the soft mud. Three +of the Chinese—they all wore long sea-boots—got over the side, and the +other two passed me across the rail. With Yellow Handkerchief at my legs +and his two companions at my shoulders, they began to flounder along +through the mud. After some time their feet struck firmer footing, and I +knew they were carrying me up some beach. The location of this beach was +not doubtful in my mind. It could be none other than one of the Marin +Islands, a group of rocky islets which lay off the Marin County shore. + +When they reached the firm sand that marked high tide, I was dropped, and +none too gently. Yellow Handkerchief kicked me spitefully in the ribs, +and then the trio floundered back through the mud to the junk. A moment +later I heard the sail go up and slat in the wind as they drew in the +sheet. Then silence fell, and I was left to my own devices for getting +free. + +I remembered having seen tricksters writhe and squirm out of ropes with +which they were bound, but though I writhed and squirmed like a good +fellow, the knots remained as hard as ever, and there was no appreciable +slack. In the course of my squirming, however, I rolled over upon a heap +of clam-shells—the remains, evidently, of some yachting party’s +clam-bake. This gave me an idea. My hands were tied behind my back; +and, clutching a shell in them, I rolled over and over, up the beach, +till I came to the rocks I knew to be there. + +Rolling around and searching, I finally discovered a narrow crevice, into +which I shoved the shell. The edge of it was sharp, and across the sharp +edge I proceeded to saw the rope that bound my wrists. The edge of the +shell was also brittle, and I broke it by bearing too heavily upon it. +Then I rolled back to the heap and returned with as many shells as I +could carry in both hands. I broke many shells, cut my hands a number of +times, and got cramps in my legs from my strained position and my +exertions. + +While I was suffering from the cramps, and resting, I heard a familiar +halloo drift across the water. It was Charley, searching for me. The +gag in my mouth prevented me from replying, and I could only lie there, +helplessly fuming, while he rowed past the island and his voice slowly +lost itself in the distance. + +I returned to the sawing process, and at the end of half an hour +succeeded in severing the rope. The rest was easy. My hands once free, +it was a matter of minutes to loosen my legs and to take the gag out of +my mouth. I ran around the island to make sure it _was_ an island and +not by any chance a portion of the mainland. An island it certainly was, +one of the Marin group, fringed with a sandy beach and surrounded by a +sea of mud. Nothing remained but to wait till daylight and to keep warm; +for it was a cold, raw night for California, with just enough wind to +pierce the skin and cause one to shiver. + +To keep up the circulation, I ran around the island a dozen times or so, +and clambered across its rocky backbone as many times more—all of which +was of greater service to me, as I afterward discovered, than merely to +warm me up. In the midst of this exercise I wondered if I had lost +anything out of my pockets while rolling over and over in the sand. A +search showed the absence of my revolver and pocket-knife. The first +Yellow Handkerchief had taken; but the knife had been lost in the sand. + +I was hunting for it when the sound of rowlocks came to my ears. At +first, of course, I thought of Charley; but on second thought I knew +Charley would be calling out as he rowed along. A sudden premonition of +danger seized me. The Marin Islands are lonely places; chance visitors +in the dead of night are hardly to be expected. What if it were Yellow +Handkerchief? The sound made by the rowlocks grew more distinct. I +crouched in the sand and listened intently. The boat, which I judged a +small skiff from the quick stroke of the oars, was landing in the mud +about fifty yards up the beach. I heard a raspy, hacking cough, and my +heart stood still. It was Yellow Handkerchief. Not to be robbed of his +revenge by his more cautious companions, he had stolen away from the +village and come back alone. + +I did some swift thinking. I was unarmed and helpless on a tiny islet, +and a yellow barbarian, whom I had reason to fear, was coming after me. +Any place was safer than the island, and I turned instinctively to the +water, or rather to the mud. As he began to flounder ashore through the +mud, I started to flounder out into it, going over the same course which +the Chinese had taken in landing me and in returning to the junk. + +Yellow Handkerchief, believing me to be lying tightly bound, exercised no +care, but came ashore noisily. This helped me, for, under the shield of +his noise and making no more myself than necessary, I managed to cover +fifty feet by the time he had made the beach. Here I lay down in the +mud. It was cold and clammy, and made me shiver, but I did not care to +stand up and run the risk of being discovered by his sharp eyes. + +He walked down the beach straight to where he had left me lying, and I +had a fleeting feeling of regret at not being able to see his surprise +when he did not find me. But it was a very fleeting regret, for my teeth +were chattering with the cold. + +What his movements were after that I had largely to deduce from the facts +of the situation, for I could scarcely see him in the dim starlight. But +I was sure that the first thing he did was to make the circuit of the +beach to learn if landings had been made by other boats. This he would +have known at once by the tracks through the mud. + +Convinced that no boat had removed me from the island, he next started to +find out what had become of me. Beginning at the pile of clam-shells, he +lighted matches to trace my tracks in the sand. At such times I could +see his villanous face plainly, and, when the sulphur from the matches +irritated his lungs, between the raspy cough that followed and the clammy +mud in which I was lying, I confess I shivered harder than ever. + +The multiplicity of my footprints puzzled him. Then the idea that I +might be out in the mud must have struck him, for he waded out a few +yards in my direction, and, stooping, with his eyes searched the dim +surface long and carefully. He could not have been more than fifteen +feet from me, and had he lighted a match he would surely have discovered +me. + +He returned to the beach and clambered about, over the rocky backbone, +again hunting for me with lighted matches, The closeness of the shave +impelled me to further flight. Not daring to wade upright, on account of +the noise made by floundering and by the suck of the mud, I remained +lying down in the mud and propelled myself over its surface by means of +my hands. Still keeping the trail made by the Chinese in going from and +to the junk, I held on until I reached the water. Into this I waded to a +depth of three feet, and then I turned off to the side on a line parallel +with the beach. + +The thought came to me of going toward Yellow Handkerchief’s skiff and +escaping in it, but at that very moment he returned to the beach, and, as +though fearing the very thing I had in mind, he slushed out through the +mud to assure himself that the skiff was safe. This turned me in the +opposite direction. Half swimming, half wading, with my head just out of +water and avoiding splashing, I succeeded in putting about a hundred feet +between myself and the spot where the Chinese had begun to wade ashore +from the junk. I drew myself out on the mud and remained lying flat. + +Again Yellow Handkerchief returned to the beach and made a search of the +island, and again he returned to the heap of clam-shells. I knew what +was running in his mind as well as he did himself. No one could leave or +land without making tracks in the mud. The only tracks to be seen were +those leading from his skiff and from where the junk had been. I was not +on the island. I must have left it by one or the other of those two +tracks. He had just been over the one to his skiff, and was certain I +had not left that way. Therefore I could have left the island only by +going over the tracks of the junk landing. This he proceeded to verify +by wading out over them himself, lighting matches as he came along. + +When he arrived at the point where I had first lain, I knew, by the +matches he burned and the time he took, that he had discovered the marks +left by my body. These he followed straight to the water and into it, +but in three feet of water he could no longer see them. On the other +hand, as the tide was still falling, he could easily make out the +impression made by the junk’s bow, and could have likewise made out the +impression of any other boat if it had landed at that particular spot. +But there was no such mark; and I knew that he was absolutely convinced +that I was hiding somewhere in the mud. + +But to hunt on a dark night for a boy in a sea of mud would be like +hunting for a needle in a haystack, and he did not attempt it. Instead +he went back to the beach and prowled around for some time. I was hoping +he would give me up and go, for by this time I was suffering severely +from the cold. At last he waded out to his skiff and rowed away. What +if this departure of Yellow Handkerchief’s were a sham? What if he had +done it merely to entice me ashore? + +The more I thought of it the more certain I became that he had made a +little too much noise with his oars as he rowed away. So I remained, +lying in the mud and shivering. I shivered till the muscles of the small +of my back ached and pained me as badly as the cold, and I had need of +all my self-control to force myself to remain in my miserable situation. + +It was well that I did, however, for, possibly an hour later, I thought I +could make out something moving on the beach. I watched intently, but my +ears were rewarded first, by a raspy cough I knew only too well. Yellow +Handkerchief had sneaked back, landed on the other side of the island, +and crept around to surprise me if I had returned. + +After that, though hours passed without sign of him, I was afraid to +return to the island at all. On the other hand, I was almost equally +afraid that I should die of the exposure I was undergoing. I had never +dreamed one could suffer so. I grew so cold and numb, finally, that I +ceased to shiver. But my muscles and bones began to ache in a way that +was agony. The tide had long since begun to rise, and, foot by foot, it +drove me in toward the beach. High water came at three o’clock, and at +three o’clock I drew myself up on the beach, more dead than alive, and +too helpless to have offered any resistance had Yellow Handkerchief +swooped down upon me. + +But no Yellow Handkerchief appeared. He had given me up and gone back to +Point Pedro. Nevertheless, I was in a deplorable, not to say dangerous, +condition. I could not stand upon my feet, much less walk. My clammy, +muddy garments clung to me like sheets of ice. I thought I should never +get them off. So numb and lifeless were my fingers, and so weak was I, +that it seemed to take an hour to get off my shoes. I had not the +strength to break the porpoise-hide laces, and the knots defied me. I +repeatedly beat my hands upon the rocks to get some sort of life into +them. Sometimes I felt sure I was going to die. + +But in the end,—after several centuries, it seemed to me,—I got off the +last of my clothes. The water was now close at hand, and I crawled +painfully into it and washed the mud from my naked body. Still, I could +not get on my feet and walk and I was afraid to lie still. Nothing +remained but to crawl weakly, like a snail, and at the cost of constant +pain, up and down the sand. I kept this up as long as possible, but as +the east paled with the coming of dawn I began to succumb. The sky grew +rosy-red, and the golden rim of the sun, showing above the horizon, found +me lying helpless and motionless among the clam-shells. + +As in a dream, I saw the familiar mainsail of the _Reindeer_ as she +slipped out of San Rafael Creek on a light puff of morning air. This +dream was very much broken. There are intervals I can never recollect on +looking back over it. Three things, however, I distinctly remember: the +first sight of the _Reindeer’s_ mainsail; her lying at anchor a few +hundred feet away and a small boat leaving her side; and the cabin stove +roaring red-hot, myself swathed all over with blankets, except on the +chest and shoulders, which Charley was pounding and mauling unmercifully, +and my mouth and throat burning with the coffee which Neil Partington was +pouring down a trifle too hot. + +But burn or no burn, I tell you it felt good. By the time we arrived in +Oakland I was as limber and strong as ever,—though Charlie and Neil +Partington were afraid I was going to have pneumonia, and Mrs. +Partington, for my first six months of school, kept an anxious eye upon +me to discover the first symptoms of consumption. + +Time flies. It seems but yesterday that I was a lad of sixteen on the +fish patrol. Yet I know that I arrived this very morning from China, +with a quick passage to my credit, and master of the barkentine +_Harvester_. And I know that to-morrow morning I shall run over to +Oakland to see Neil Partington and his wife and family, and later on up +to Benicia to see Charley Le Grant and talk over old times. No; I shall +not go to Benicia, now that I think about it. I expect to be a highly +interested party to a wedding, shortly to take place. Her name is Alice +Partington, and, since Charley has promised to be best man, he will have +to come down to Oakland instead. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FISH PATROL*** + + +******* This file should be named 911-0.txt or 911-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/9/1/911 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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