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diff --git a/911-h/911-h.htm b/911-h/911-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..284a8b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/911-h/911-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3791 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Tales of the Fish Patrol, by Jack London</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +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: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FISH PATROL*** +</pre> + + + +<table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> +<tr> +<td> +THERE IS ANOTHER EDITION OF THIS TITLE WITH ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS WHICH MAY VIEWED AT EBOOK <big><b><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28693"> +[# 28693 ]</a></b></big> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Transcribed from the 1914 William Heinemann edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"“Now will you keep off?” he demanded" +title= +"“Now will you keep off?” he demanded" + src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>Tales of the<br /> +Fish Patrol</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">By</span><br +/> +<b>Jack London</b><br /> +Author of “Burning Daylight,” etc.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">London<br /> +William Heinemann<br /> +1914</p> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>WHITE +AND YELLOW</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">San Francisco Bay</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>When I was a youngster of sixteen, a good sloop-sailor and +all-round bay-waterman, my sloop, the <i>Reindeer</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>After coffee, three of the men withdrew to the other boat, a +Columbia River salmon boat, leaving three of us in the +<i>Reindeer</i>. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Then we separated. I put the <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“It’s all up. They’re warning the +others,” said George, the remaining patrolman, as he stood +beside me in the cockpit.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> alongside long +enough for George to spring aboard.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i>, 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 +<i>Reindeer</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Reindeer’s</i> bowsprit, like a monstrous hand, reached +over and ripped out the junk’s chunky mast and towering +sail.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer’s</i> bow and began to shove the entangled +boats apart. Pausing long enough to let go the jib +halyards, and just as the <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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 +<i>Reindeer</i>. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to help us out,” said Le +Grant.</p> +<p>I looked over my prisoners, who had crowded into the cabin and +on top of it. “I can take three,” I +answered.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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 +<i>Reindeer</i>. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>To make matters serious, during all the excitement of boarding +the junks the <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>“Yes,” I said. “Bime by, allee same +dlown, velly quick, you no bail now. Sabbe?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“You’d better get out your gun and make them +bail,” I said to George.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“What do we care?” George said weakly.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And I, for another, don’t care to give in to a +handful of dirty Chinamen to escape drowning,” I answered +hotly.</p> +<p>“You’ll sink the <i>Reindeer</i> under us all at +this rate,” he whined. “And what good +that’ll do I can’t see.”</p> +<p>“Every man to his taste,” I retorted.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“It’s sink or float together,” I said. +“And if you’ll give me your revolver, I’ll have +the <i>Reindeer</i> bailed out in a jiffy.”</p> +<p>“They’re too many for us,” he +whimpered. “We can’t fight them all.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Now keep your distance,” I commanded, “and +don’t you come closer!”</p> +<p>“Wha’ fo’?” he demanded +indignantly. “I t’ink-um talkee talkee heap +good.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>He grinned in a sickly fashion. “Yep, I sabbe +velly much. I honest Chinaman.”</p> +<p>“All right,” I answered. “You sabbe +talkee talkee, then you bail water plenty plenty. After +that we talkee talkee.”</p> +<p>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—”</p> +<p>“Stand back!” I shouted, for I had noticed his +hand disappear beneath his blouse and his body prepare for a +spring.</p> +<p>Disconcerted, he went back into the cabin, to hold a council, +apparently, from the way the jabbering broke forth. The +<i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“I think not,” I answered shortly.</p> +<p>“I command you,” he said in a bullying tone.</p> +<p>“I was commanded to bring these prisoners into San +Rafael,” was my reply.</p> +<p>Our voices were raised, and the sound of the altercation +brought the Chinese out of the cabin.</p> +<p>“Now will you head for the beach?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Fifteen minutes passed, the <i>Reindeer</i> 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 <i>Reindeer</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>The wind freshened a bit, and the <i>Reindeer</i> 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 +<i>Reindeer</i> righted very slowly, and when she was on an even +keel was so much awash that I doubted if she could be saved.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>THE +KING OF THE GREEKS</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Big Alec</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“I’ve come down to fish sturgeon a couple of +months,” he said to Carmintel.</p> +<p>His eyes flashed with challenge as he spoke, and we noticed +the patrolman’s eyes drop before him.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“But why was he not hanged for murder?” I +demanded. “Surely the United States is powerful +enough to bring such a man to justice.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But what are you going to do about his fishing for +sturgeon? He’s bound to fish with a ‘Chinese +line.’”</p> +<p>Charley shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll see +what we will see,” he said enigmatically.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Big Alec has a Chinese line out in the bight off +Turner’s Shipyard,” Charley Le Grant said that +afternoon to Carmintel.</p> +<p>A fleeting expression of annoyance passed over the +patrolman’s face, and then he said, “Yes?” in +an absent way, and that was all.</p> +<p>Charley bit his lip with suppressed anger and turned on his +heel.</p> +<p>“Are you game, my lad?” he said to me later on in +the evening, just as we finished washing down the +<i>Reindeer’s</i> decks and were preparing to turn in.</p> +<p>A lump came up in my throat, and I could only nod my head.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“It’s a hard proposition, but we can do it,” +he added after a pause.</p> +<p>“Of course we can,” I supplemented +enthusiastically.</p> +<p>And then he said, “Of course we can,” and we shook +hands on it and went to bed.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Change places,” Charley commanded, “and +steer just astern of him as though you’re going into the +shipyard.”</p> +<p>I took the tiller, and Charley sat down on a thwart amidships, +placing his revolver handily beside him.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Here! You! What do you want?” he +shouted.</p> +<p>“Keep going,” Charley whispered, “just as +though you didn’t hear him.”</p> +<p>The next few moments were very anxious ones. The +fisherman was studying us sharply, while we were gliding up on +him every second.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>He brought a rifle to his shoulder and trained it on me.</p> +<p>“Now will you keep off?” he demanded.</p> +<p>I could hear Charley groan with disappointment. +“Keep off,” he whispered; “it’s all up +for this time.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“You’d better leave Big Alec alone,” +Carmintel said, rather sourly, to Charley that night.</p> +<p>“So he’s been complaining to you, has +he?” Charley said significantly.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” Charley answered softly; “I’ve +heard that it pays better to leave him alone.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say—” Carmintel began, in a +bullying tone.</p> +<p>But Charley cut him off shortly. “I mean to say +nothing,” he said. “You heard what I said, and +if the cap fits, why—”</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders, and Carmintel glowered at him, +speechless.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“We’ve got it,” Charley cried. +“Come on and lend a hand to get it in.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“That’s remarkably like a bullet, lad,” he +said reflectively. “And it’s a long shot Big +Alec’s making.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“I guess we’d better get out of this,” +Charley remarked coolly. “What do you think, +lad?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?</p> +<p>Charley looked at me. The <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>“All right, captain,” Charley said to the +disconsolate yachtsman, who smiled in sickly fashion at the +title.</p> +<p>“I’m only the owner,” he explained.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>We thundered on past the fishermen, and nothing had +happened. Charley grinned at the disappointment he saw in +my face, and then shouted:</p> +<p>“Stand by the main-sheet to jibe!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“That fixes his rifle,” I heard Charley mutter, as +he sprang upon the deck to look for Big Alec somewhere +astern.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“More gaskets!” Charley shouted, and I made haste +to supply them.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>A RAID +ON THE OYSTER PIRATES</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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 +<i>Reindeer’s</i> rigging, overhauled the ballast, scraped +down, and put the sloop into thorough shape.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“A good catch, I guess,” Charley said, pointing to +the heaps of oysters, assorted in three sizes, which lay upon +their decks.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“That boat must have at least two hundred dollars’ +worth aboard,” I calculated. “I wonder how long +it took to get the load?”</p> +<p>“Three or four days,” Charley answered. +“Not bad wages for two men—twenty-five dollars a day +apiece.”</p> +<p>The boat we were discussing, the <i>Ghost</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Ghost</i>. He appeared angry, and the longer he looked +the angrier he grew.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>The tall man and the short man on the <i>Ghost</i> looked +up.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Those are my oysters—that’s what I +said. You’ve stolen them from my beds.”</p> +<p>“Yer mighty wise, ain’t ye?” was the +Centipede’s sneering reply. “S’pose you +can tell your oysters wherever you see ’em?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I know they’re mine; I’d stake my life on +it!” Mr. Taft snorted.</p> +<p>“Prove it,” challenged the tall man, who we +afterward learned was known as “The Porpoise” because +of his wonderful swimming abilities.</p> +<p>Mr. Taft shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Of course he +could not prove the oysters to be his, no matter how certain he +might be.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>A roar of laughter went up from the different boats, for the +rest of the pirates had been listening to the discussion.</p> +<p>“There’s more money in oysters,” the +Porpoise remarked dryly.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Come on! Lively!” Charley whispered, when +we passed from the view of the oyster fleet.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Le Grant,” Charley answered.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Now we’ll see Neil,” Charley said, when he +had seen Mr. Taft upon his train to San Francisco.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Good luck be with you, boys,” he said at parting, +two days later. “Remember, they are dangerous men, so +be careful.”</p> +<p>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, <i>Coal Tar Maggie</i> was +printed in great white letters the whole length of either +side.</p> +<p>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 <i>Coal Tar Maggie</i> +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.</p> +<p>“Wot is it?” some one called.</p> +<p>“Name it ’n’ ye kin have it!” called +another.</p> +<p>“I swan naow, ef it ain’t the old Ark +itself!” mimicked the Centipede from the deck of the +<i>Ghost</i>.</p> +<p>“Hey! Ahoy there, clipper ship!” another wag +shouted. “Wot’s yer port?”</p> +<p>We took no notice of the joking, but acted, after the manner +of greenhorns, as though the <i>Coal Tar Maggie</i> required our +undivided attention. I rounded her well to windward of the +<i>Ghost</i>, 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.</p> +<p>But the chain remained tangled, and amid all kinds of mocking +advice we drifted down upon and fouled the <i>Ghost</i>, 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 +<i>Coal Tar Maggie</i> to swing in a circle six hundred feet in +diameter, in which circle she would be able to foul at least half +the fleet.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Coal Tar +Maggie’s</i> 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.</p> +<p>“Where’d you swipe the old tub?” asked a +squat and hairy man, with cruel eyes and Mexican features.</p> +<p>“Didn’t swipe it,” Nicholas answered, +meeting them on their own ground and encouraging the idea that we +had stolen the <i>Coal Tar Maggie</i>. “And if we +did, what of it?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“What d’ye want ’em for?” demanded the +Porpoise.</p> +<p>“Oh, to give away to our friends, of course,” +Nicholas retorted. “That’s what you do with +yours, I suppose.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Didn’t I see you on the dock in Oakland the other +day?” the Centipede asked suddenly of me.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Sure,” I said. “Soon as we sell some +oysters we’ll outfit in style.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Sure,” I said.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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 <i>Ghost</i>. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Wish we had a little steam launch,” I panted.</p> +<p>“I’d just as soon the moon stayed hidden,” +Nicholas panted back.</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Coal Tar Maggie</i>. One o’clock +came, and two o’clock, and the pirates were clustering on +the highest shoal, waist-deep in water.</p> +<p>“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 . . .”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“It’s the Porpoise,” Nicholas said. +“It would take broad daylight for us to catch +him.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Ay,” they chorused hoarsely between their +chattering teeth.</p> +<p>“Then one man at a time, and the short men +first.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“You didn’t get the Porpoise,” the Centipede +said exultantly, as though his escape materially diminished our +success.</p> +<p>Charley laughed. “But we saw him just the same, +a-snorting for shore like a puffing pig.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“You can dry your clothes here, lads, and get some hot +coffee,” Charley announced, as they filed in.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<h2><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>THE +SIEGE OF THE “LANCASHIRE QUEEN”</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Possibly</span> 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer’s</i> 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i>, +while Charley and I went on ahead with the other in the captured +boat.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“I’ve always heard that Greeks don’t like +Italians,” Charley laughed, as he ran aft to the +tiller.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i>. 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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i>.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i> 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.</p> +<p>“Wot a circus!” cried one.</p> +<p>“Tork about yer marine hippodromes,—if this +ain’t one, I’d like to know!” affirmed +another.</p> +<p>“Six-days-go-as-yer-please,” announced a +third. “Who says the dagoes won’t +win?”</p> +<p>On the next tack to windward the Greek offered to change +places with Charley.</p> +<p>“Let-a me sail-a de boat,” he demanded. +“I fix-a them, I catch-a them, sure.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Better give it up,” one of the sailors advised +from above.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Keep going, Charley, one time more,” I said.</p> +<p>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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>The Greek took both tiller and sheet and continued the chase +around the <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“It will never do to let them escape now,” he +said, at the same time drawing his revolver.</p> +<p>On our next circuit, he threatened the Italians with the +weapon; but they rowed on stolidly, keeping splendid stroke and +utterly disregarding him.</p> +<p>“If you don’t stop, I’ll shoot,” +Charley said menacingly.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“We’ll run them down, then!” Charley +exclaimed. “We’ll wear them out and wind +them!”</p> +<p>So the chase continued. Twenty times more we ran them +around the <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, 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.</p> +<p>The parley that followed with the captain was short and +snappy. He absolutely forbade us to board the <i>Lancashire +Queen</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>And then began the siege of the <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, a +siege memorable in the annals of both fishermen and fish +patrol. When the <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Lancashire Queen</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, secure in the knowledge that we +could not overtake them.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Lancashire Queen</i>. 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 +<i>Lancashire Queen</i> and asked the direction of the +<i>Scottish Chiefs</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Charley and I, after our customary night vigil by the side of +the <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, rowed into the Solana Wharf.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>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 <i>Streak</i>, painted in small +white letters.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Streak</i> 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.</p> +<p>“Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour, +though you wouldn’t think it,” he concluded +proudly.</p> +<p>“Say it again, man! Say it again!” Charley +exclaimed in an excited voice.</p> +<p>“Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an +hour,” the engineer repeated, grinning good-naturedly.</p> +<p>“Where’s the owner?” was Charley’s +next question. “Is there any way I can speak to +him?”</p> +<p>The engineer shook his head. “No, I’m afraid +not. He’s asleep, you see.”</p> +<p>At that moment a young man in blue uniform came on deck +farther aft and stood regarding the sunrise.</p> +<p>“There he is, that’s him, that’s Mr. +Tate,” said the engineer.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Come on lad,” he said. “On to the +dock with you. We’ve got them!”</p> +<p>It was our good fortune to leave the <i>Streak</i> 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 <i>Streak</i> and over our +own boat, where we could comfortably watch the <i>Lancashire +Queen</i>. 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:</p> +<p>“Forty-five miles an hour . . . nothing can save them . +. . they are ours!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Lancashire Queen</i>, which left them hardly +more than a quarter of a mile to gain the shore, did Charley slap +me on the shoulder and cry:</p> +<p>“They’re ours! They’re +ours!”</p> +<p>We ran the few steps to the side of the <i>Streak</i> and +jumped aboard. Stern and bow lines were cast off in a +jiffy. The <i>Streak</i> 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Streak</i> 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 +<i>streaked</i> it,” was the way Charley told it afterward, +and I think his description comes nearer than any I can give.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>But Charley was true to his hobby. +“Imagination?” he demanded, pointing to the +<i>Streak</i>. “Look at that! just look at it! +If the invention of that isn’t imagination, I should like +to know what is.”</p> +<p>“Of course,” he added, “it’s the other +fellow’s imagination, but it did the work all the +same.”</p> +<h2><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +84</span>CHARLEY’S COUP</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Perhaps</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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:</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“It’s curious,” Charley muttered. +“Can it be they don’t recognize us?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“That’s funny,” was Charley’s +remark. “But we can confiscate the net, at any +rate.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Just you wait; the idea’ll come all right,” +Charley promised.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Apache</i> +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 <i>Apache</i> 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.</p> +<p>Charley nudged me with his elbow. I grasped his thought +on the instant, but objected:</p> +<p>“We can’t charter a steamboat.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>And over we went to the shipyard, where Charley led the way to +the <i>Mary Rebecca</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Ole Ericsen verified Charley’s conjecture that the +<i>Mary Rebecca</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“Just a hook, one good-sized hook,” Charley +pleaded.</p> +<p>“No, Ay tank not,” said Ole Ericsen. +“Der <i>Mary Rebecca</i> yust hang up on efery mud-bank +with that hook. Ay don’t want to lose der <i>Mary +Rebecca</i>. She’s all Ay got.”</p> +<p>“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 <i>Mary +Rebecca</i> will be all right again.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i> slides into +der water to-night.”</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary +Rebecca</i>. 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.</p> +<p>In the late afternoon the <i>Mary Rebecca</i> 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i> +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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Mary Rebecca</i> 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i>, +were grinning and joking. Ole Ericsen was rubbing his huge +hands in child-like glee.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i> well aft, held +her stern into the wind, and she continued to plough on, though +somewhat erratically.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>It was in fact a plate from the side of the <i>New Jersey</i>, +a steamer which had recently been wrecked outside the Golden +Gate, and in the salving of which the <i>Mary Rebecca</i> had +taken part.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>So we raced along, behind us a howling, screaming bedlam of +wrathful Greeks, Collinsville ahead, and bullets spat-spatting +all around us.</p> +<p>“Ole,” Charley said in a faint voice, “I +don’t know what we’re going to do.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“But we can’t stop,” Charley groaned. +“I never thought of it, but we can’t stop.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Every man Jack of them has a gun,” one of the +sailors remarked cheerfully.</p> +<p>“Yes, and a knife, too,” the other sailor +added.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>A bullet glanced on the stern and sang off to starboard like a +spiteful bee. “There’s nothing to do but plump +the <i>Mary Rebecca</i> ashore and run for it,” was the +verdict of the first cheerful sailor.</p> +<p>“And leaf der <i>Mary Rebecca</i>?” Ole demanded, +with unspeakable horror in his voice.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>We were right in at Collinsville then, and went foaming by +within biscuit-toss of the wharf.</p> +<p>“I only hope the wind holds out,” Charley said, +stealing a glance at our prisoners.</p> +<p>“What of der wind?” Ole demanded +disconsolately. “Der river will not hold out, and +then . . . and then . . .”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i> was pressed down on +her port side as if she were about to capsize.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Charley smiled at their efforts, and said, “Give her the +topsail, Ole.”</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i> lay over and sprang ahead +faster than ever.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Have to give her the staysail,” Charley said.</p> +<p>Ole Ericsen looked at the straining <i>Mary Rebecca</i> and +shook his head. “It will take der masts out of +her,” he said.</p> +<p>“And we’ll be taken out of her if you +don’t,” Charley replied.</p> +<p>Ole shot an anxious glance at his masts, another at the boat +load of armed Greeks, and consented.</p> +<p>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 <i>Mary Rebecca</i> 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.</p> +<p>“That settles them!” Charley remarked, though he +was anxiously studying the behavior of the <i>Mary Rebecca</i>, +which was being driven under far more canvas than she was rightly +able to carry.</p> +<p>“Next stop is Antioch!” announced the cheerful +sailor, after the manner of a railway conductor. “And +next comes Merryweather!”</p> +<p>“Come here, quick,” Charley said to me.</p> +<p>I crawled across the deck and stood upright beside him in the +shelter of the sheet steel.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>And this is what I wrote:</p> +<blockquote><p>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.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Now make it good and fast to that marlin-spike, and +stand by to toss it ashore.”</p> +<p>I did as he directed. By then we were close to +Antioch. The wind was shouting through our rigging, the +<i>Mary Rebecca</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>We took in topsail and staysail, dropped the main peak, and as +we got abreast of the principal wharf jibed the mainsail. +The <i>Mary Rebecca</i> 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.</p> +<p>Ole Ericsen heaved a great sigh. “Ay never tank Ay +see my wife never again,” he confessed.</p> +<p>“Why, we were never in any danger,” said +Charley.</p> +<p>Ole looked at him incredulously.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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 <i>Mary +Rebecca</i> and her captain.</p> +<h2><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +111</span>DEMETRIOS CONTOS</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Mary Rebecca</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>could</i> catch fish, true; but a catch of +any size would have torn it to pieces.</p> +<p>Charley shook his head and said:</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Charley’s voice took on an aggrieved tone, and he +continued for some minutes to inveigh against the brazenness of +Demetrios Contos.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Come on, lad,” he called to me; and we lost no +time jumping into our salmon boat and getting up sail.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Whew!” Charley exclaimed. “Either +that boat is a daisy, or we’ve got a five-gallon coal-oil +can fast to our keel!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Slack away the sheet,” Charley commanded; and as +our boat fell off before the wind, Demetrios’s mocking +laugh floated down to us.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>This time it was my imagination that came to the rescue.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>Charley considered it a moment and slapped his knee.</p> +<p>“A good idea! You’re beginning to use that +head of yours. A credit to your teacher, I must +say.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>On Thursday Charley registered an objection to my plan.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Well,” he grunted, “what’s the +matter? House afire?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“So far, so good,” Charley commented, while I +paused to catch breath.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And I’ll arrange right away for the mare, first +thing in the morning,” Charley said, accepting the modified +plan without hesitation.</p> +<p>“But, I say,” he said, a little later, this time +waking <i>me</i> out of a sound sleep.</p> +<p>I could hear him chuckling in the dark.</p> +<p>“I say, lad, isn’t it rather a novelty for the +fish patrol to be taking to horseback?”</p> +<p>“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.’”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But can you manage the boat alone?” he asked, on +Friday. “Remember, we’ve a ripping big sail on +her.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Den I give-a heem my old-a net-a,” one of them +spoke up, promptly and maliciously.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>They all laughed at this, for they could afford to be +sweet-tempered with a man so badly outwitted as Charley was.</p> +<p>“Well, so long, lad,” Charley called to me a +moment later. “I think I’ll go up-town to +Maloney’s.”</p> +<p>“Let me take the boat out?” I asked.</p> +<p>“If you want to,” was his answer, as he turned on +his heel and walked slowly away.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“You all-a right?” he asked.</p> +<p>I managed to shape a “yes” on my lips, though I +could not yet speak.</p> +<p>“You sail-a de boat verr-a good-a,” he said. +“So good-a as a man.”</p> +<p>A compliment from Demetrios Contos was a compliment indeed, +and I keenly appreciated it, though I could only nod my head in +acknowledgment.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“He saved my life, Charley,” I protested; +“and I don’t think he ought to be +arrested.”</p> +<p>A puzzled expression came into Charley’s face, which +cleared immediately after, in a way it had when he made up his +mind.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“But he saved my life,” I persisted, unable to +make any other argument.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>The moisture rushed into my eyes as I seized his hand. +“I want to pay—” I began.</p> +<p>“To pay your half?” he interrupted. “I +certainly shall expect you to pay it.”</p> +<p>In the meantime Demetrios had been informed by his lawyer that +his fee likewise had been paid by Charley.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +134</span>YELLOW HANDKERCHIEF</h2> +<p>“<span class="smcap">I’m</span> 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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>So the chest went aboard, and in the middle of the afternoon +we hoisted the <i>Reindeer’s</i> 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 +<i>Lancashire Queen</i>, 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.</p> +<p>A great wall of fog advanced across San Pablo Bay to meet us, +and in a few minutes the <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>Charley looked at his watch, “Six o’clock, and +three hours more of ebb,” he remarked casually.</p> +<p>“But where do you say we are?” Neil insisted.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“You might be a little more definite by a few miles, +anyway,” Neil grumbled, showing by his tone that he +disagreed.</p> +<p>“All right, then,” Charley said, conclusively, +“not less than a quarter of a mile, not more than a +half.”</p> +<p>The wind freshened with a couple of little puffs, and the fog +thinned perceptibly.</p> +<p>“McNear’s is right off there,” Charley said, +pointing directly into the fog on our weather beam.</p> +<p>The three of us were peering intently in that direction, when +the <i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i>, as he had +nearly sunk it now by violating the rules of navigation.</p> +<p>“What d’ye mean, you yellow-faced heathen, lying +here in a fairway without a horn a-going?” Charley cried +hotly.</p> +<p>“Mean?” Neil calmly answered. “Just +take a look—that’s what he means.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>So saying, Charley and Neil returned to the <i>Reindeer</i> +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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> +back by just so much dead weight.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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 +<i>Reindeer</i> and to windward. The tow-line had now +tautened, at right angles to the two boats, and the predicament +was laughable.</p> +<p>“Cast off!” I shouted.</p> +<p>Charley hesitated.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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 +<i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> went past the +mouth of the slough.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Here Neil said something which I could not catch, and then +Charley’s voice went on:</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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 <i>Reindeer</i> 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 +<i>Reindeer</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>was</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>As in a dream, I saw the familiar mainsail of the +<i>Reindeer</i> 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 <i>Reindeer’s</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Harvester</i>. 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.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE FISH PATROL***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 911-h.htm or 911-h.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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