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diff --git a/old/totfp10h.htm b/old/totfp10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3c94be --- /dev/null +++ b/old/totfp10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3242 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Tales of the Fish Patrol</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Tales of the Fish Patrol, by Jack London</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of the Fish Patrol, by Jack London +(#8 in our series by Jack London) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Tales of the Fish Patrol + +Author: Jack London + +Release Date: May, 1997 [EBook #911] +[This file was first posted on March 22, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 12, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1914 edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>Tales of the Fish Patrol</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHITE AND YELLOW</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>San Francisco Bay is so large that often its storms are more disastrous +to ocean-going craft than is the ocean itself in its violent moments. +The waters of the bay contain all manner of fish, wherefore its surface +is ploughed by the keels of all manner of fishing boats manned by all +manner of fishermen. To protect the fish from this motley floating +population many wise laws have been passed, and there is a fish patrol +to see that these laws are enforced. Exciting times are the lot +of the fish patrol: in its history more than one dead patrolman has +marked defeat, and more often dead fishermen across their illegal nets +have marked success.</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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE KING OF THE GREEKS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Big Alec had never been captured by the fish patrol. It was +his boast that no man could take him alive, and it was his history that +of the many men who had tried to take him dead none had succeeded. +It was also history that at least two patrolmen who had tried to take +him dead had died themselves. Further, no man violated the fish +laws more systematically and deliberately than Big Alec.</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 patrol-man 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 manoeuvre performed of bringing the yacht to anchor, and +the equally lubberly manoeuvre 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 manoeuvre, +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 subpoenaed 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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>A RAID ON THE OYSTER PIRATES</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Of the fish patrolmen under whom we served at various times, Charley +Le Grant and I were agreed, I think, that Neil Partington was the best. +He was neither dishonest nor cowardly; and while he demanded strict +obedience when we were under his orders, at the same time our relations +were those of easy comradeship, and he permitted us a freedom to which +we were ordinarily unaccustomed, as the present story will show.</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 over-hauled 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 encyclopaedia +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</i> <i>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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE SIEGE OF THE “LANCASHIRE QUEEN”</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Possibly our most exasperating experience on the fish patrol was +when Charley Le Grant and I laid a two weeks’ siege to a big four-masted +English ship. Before we had finished with the affair, it became +a pretty mathematical problem, and it was by the merest chance that +we came into possession of the instrument that brought it to a successful +termination.</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 +manoeuvre 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 wind-ward. 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 wind-ward, 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</i> <i>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</i> <i>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 day-light. 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</i> <i>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</i> +<i>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 gang-way 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</i> +<i>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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHARLEY’S COUP</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Perhaps our most laughable exploit on the fish patrol, and at the +same time our most dangerous one, was when we rounded in, at a single +haul, an even score of wrathful fishermen. Charley called it a +“coop,” having heard Neil Partington use the term; but I +think he misunderstood the word, and thought it meant “coop,” +to catch, to trap. The fishermen, however, coup or coop, must +have called it a Waterloo, for it was the severest stroke ever dealt +them by the fish patrol, while they had invited it by open and impudent +defiance of the law.</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 +manoeuvre 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</i> <i>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</i> <i>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</i> <i>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 manoeuvre +would be repeated.</p> +<p>“Have to give her the staysail,” Charley said.</p> +<p>Ole Ericsen looked at the straining <i>Mary</i> <i>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 top-sail +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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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</i> <i>Rebecca</i> and her captain.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>DEMETRIOS CONTOS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>It must not be thought, from what I have told of the Greek fishermen, +that they were altogether bad. Far from it. But they were +rough men, gathered together in isolated communities and fighting with +the elements for a livelihood. They lived far away from the law +and its workings, did not understand it, and thought it tyranny. +Especially did the fish laws seem tyrannical. And because of this, +they looked upon the men of the fish patrol as their natural enemies.</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</i> <i>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 manoeuvring. +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 outmanoeuvring 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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>YELLOW HANDKERCHIEF</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“I’m not wanting to dictate to you, lad,” Charley +said; “but I’m very much against your making a last raid. +You’ve gone safely through rough times with rough men, and it +would be a shame to have something happen to you at the very end.”</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 clamshells, +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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, TALES OF THE FISH PATROL ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named totfp10h.htm or totfp10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, totfp11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, totfp10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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