Tales of the Fish Patrol

WHITE AND YELLOW

San Francisco Bay is so large that often its storms are moredisastrous to ocean-going craft than is the ocean itself in itsviolent moments. The waters of the bay contain all manner of fish, wherefore its surface is ploughed by the keels of all manner offishing boats manned by all manner of fishermen. To protect thefish from this motley floating population many wise laws have beenpassed, and there is a fish patrol to see that these laws areenforced. Exciting times are the lot of the fish patrol: in itshistory more than one dead patrolman has marked defeat, and moreoften dead fishermen across their illegal nets have marked success. 

Wildest among the fisher-folk may be accounted the Chinese shrimp-catchers. It is the habit of the shrimp to crawl along the bottomin vast armies till it reaches fresh water, when it turns about andcrawls 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 tothe boiling-pot. This in itself would not be bad, were it not forthe small mesh of the nets, so small that the tiniest fishes, little new-hatched things not a quarter of an inch long, cannotpass through. The beautiful beaches of Points Pedro and Pablo, where are the shrimp-catchers' villages, are made fearful by thestench from myriads of decaying fish, and against this wastefuldestruction it has ever been the duty of the fish patrol to act. 

When I was a youngster of sixteen, a good sloop-sailor and all-round bay-waterman, my sloop, the Reindeer, was chartered by theFish Commission, and I became for the time being a deputypatrolman. After a deal of work among the Greek fishermen of theUpper Bay and rivers, where knives flashed at the beginning oftrouble and men permitted themselves to be made prisoners onlyafter a revolver was thrust in their faces, we hailed with delightan expedition to the Lower Bay against the Chinese shrimp-catchers. 

There were six of us, in two boats, and to avoid suspicion we randown after dark and dropped anchor under a projecting bluff of landknown as Point Pinole. As the east paled with the first light ofdawn we got under way again, and hauled close on the land breeze aswe slanted across the bay toward Point Pedro. The morning mistscurled and clung to the water so that we could see nothing, but webusied ourselves driving the chill from our bodies with hot coffee. Also we had to devote ourselves to the miserable task of bailing, for in some incomprehensible way the Reindeer had sprung a generousleak. Half the night had been spent in overhauling the ballast andexploring the seams, but the labor had been without avail. Thewater still poured in, and perforce we doubled up in the cockpitand tossed it out again. 

After coffee, three of the men withdrew to the other boat, aColumbia River salmon boat, leaving three of us in the Reindeer. Then the two craft proceeded in company till the sun showed overthe eastern sky-line. Its fiery rays dispelled the clingingvapors, and there, before our eyes, like a picture, lay the shrimpfleet, spread out in a great half-moon, the tips of the crescentfully three miles apart, and each junk moored fast to the buoy of ashrimp-net. But there was no stir, no sign of life. 

The situation dawned upon us. While waiting for slack water, inwhich to lift their heavy nets from the bed of the bay, the Chinesehad all gone to sleep below. We were elated, and our plan ofbattle was swiftly formed. 

"Throw each of your two men on to a junk, " whispered Le Grant to mefrom 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 weshouldn't capture six junks at the least. "

Then we separated. I put the Reindeer about on the other tack, ranup under the lee of a junk, shivered the mainsail into the wind andlost headway, and forged past the stern of the junk so slowly andso near that one of the patrolmen stepped lightly aboard. Then Ikept off, filled the mainsail, and bore away for a second junk. 

Up to this time there had been no noise, but from the first junkcaptured by the salmon boat an uproar now broke forth. There wasshrill Oriental yelling, a pistol shot, and more yelling. 

"It's all up. They're warning the others, " said George, theremaining patrolman, as he stood beside me in the cockpit. 

By this time we were in the thick of the fleet, and the alarm wasspreading with incredible swiftness. The decks were beginning toswarm with half-awakened and half-naked Chinese. Cries and yellsof warning and anger were flying over the quiet water, andsomewhere a conch shell was being blown with great success. To theright of us I saw the captain of a junk chop away his mooring linewith an axe and spring to help his crew at the hoisting of thehuge, outlandish lug-sail. But to the left the first heads werepopping up from below on another junk, and I rounded up theReindeer alongside long enough for George to spring aboard. 

The whole fleet was now under way. In addition to the sails theyhad gotten out long sweeps, and the bay was being ploughed in everydirection by the fleeing junks. I was now alone in the Reindeer, seeking feverishly to capture a third prize. The first junk I tookafter was a clean miss, for it trimmed its sheets and shot awaysurprisingly into the wind. By fully half a point it outpointedthe Reindeer, and I began to feel respect for the clumsy craft. Realizing the hopelessness of the pursuit, I filled away, threw outthe main-sheet, and drove down before the wind upon the junks toleeward, where I had them at a disadvantage. 

The one I had selected wavered indecisively before me, and, as Iswung wide to make the boarding gentle, filled suddenly and dartedaway, the smart Mongols shouting a wild rhythm as they bent to thesweeps. But I had been ready for this. I luffed suddenly. Putting the tiller hard down, and holding it down with my body, Ibrought the main-sheet in, hand over hand, on the run, so as toretain all possible striking force. The two starboard sweeps ofthe junk were crumpled up, and then the two boats came togetherwith a crash. The Reindeer's bowsprit, like a monstrous hand, reached over and ripped out the junk's chunky mast and toweringsail. 

This was met by a curdling yell of rage. A big Chinaman, remarkably evil-looking, with his head swathed in a yellow silkhandkerchief and face badly pock-marked, planted a pike-pole on theReindeer's bow and began to shove the entangled boats apart. Pausing long enough to let go the jib halyards, and just as theReindeer cleared and began to drift astern, I leaped aboard thejunk with a line and made fast. He of the yellow handkerchief andpock-marked face came toward me threateningly, but I put my handinto my hip pocket, and he hesitated. I was unarmed, but theChinese have learned to be fastidiously careful of American hippockets, and it was upon this that I depended to keep him and hissavage crew at a distance. 

I ordered him to drop the anchor at the junk's bow, to which hereplied, "No sabbe. " The crew responded in like fashion, andthough I made my meaning plain by signs, they refused tounderstand. Realizing the inexpediency of discussing the matter, Iwent forward myself, overran the line, and let the anchor go. 

"Now get aboard, four of you, " I said in a loud voice, indicatingwith my fingers that four of them were to go with me and the fifthwas to remain by the junk. The Yellow Handkerchief hesitated; butI repeated the order fiercely (much more fiercely than I felt), atthe same time sending my hand to my hip. Again the YellowHandkerchief was overawed, and with surly looks he led three of hismen aboard the Reindeer. I cast off at once, and, leaving the jibdown, steered a course for George's junk. Here it was easier, forthere were two of us, and George had a pistol to fall back on if itcame to the worst. And here, as with my junk, four Chinese weretransferred to the sloop and one left behind to take care ofthings. 

Four more were added to our passenger list from the third junk. Bythis time the salmon boat had collected its twelve prisoners andcame alongside, badly overloaded. To make matters worse, as it wasa small boat, the patrolmen were so jammed in with their prisonersthat they would have little chance in case of trouble. 

"You'll have to help us out, " said Le Grant. 

I looked over my prisoners, who had crowded into the cabin and ontop of it. "I can take three, " I answered. 

"Make it four, " he suggested, "and I'll take Bill with me. " (Billwas the third patrolman. ) "We haven't elbow room here, and in caseof a scuffle one white to every two of them will be just about theright proportion. "

The exchange was made, and the salmon boat got up its spritsail andheaded down the bay toward the marshes off San Rafael. I ran upthe jib and followed with the Reindeer. San Rafael, where we wereto turn our catch over to the authorities, communicated with thebay by way of a long and tortuous slough, or marshland creek, whichcould be navigated only when the tide was in. Slack water hadcome, and, as the ebb was commencing, there was need for hurry ifwe cared to escape waiting half a day for the next tide. 

But the land breeze had begun to die away with the rising sun, andnow came only in failing puffs. The salmon boat got out its oarsand soon left us far astern. Some of the Chinese stood in theforward part of the cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as Ileaned over the cockpit rail to flatten down the jib-sheet a bit, Ifelt some one brush against my hip pocket. I made no sign, but outof the corner of my eye I saw that the Yellow Handkerchief haddiscovered the emptiness of the pocket which had hitherto overawedhim. 

To make matters serious, during all the excitement of boarding thejunks the Reindeer had not been bailed, and the water was beginningto slush over the cockpit floor. The shrimp-catchers pointed at itand looked to me questioningly. 

"Yes, " I said. "Bime by, allee same dlown, velly quick, you nobail now. Sabbe?"

No, they did not "sabbe, " or at least they shook their heads tothat effect, though they chattered most comprehendingly to oneanother in their own lingo. I pulled up three or four of thebottom boards, got a couple of buckets from a locker, and byunmistakable sign-language invited them to fall to. But theylaughed, and some crowded into the cabin and some climbed up ontop. 

Their laughter was not good laughter. There was a hint of menacein it, a maliciousness which their black looks verified. TheYellow Handkerchief, since his discovery of my empty pocket, hadbecome most insolent in his bearing, and he wormed about among theother prisoners, talking to them with great earnestness. 

Swallowing my chagrin, I stepped down into the cockpit and beganthrowing out the water. But hardly had I begun, when the boomswung overhead, the mainsail filled with a jerk, and the Reindeerheeled over. The day wind was springing up. George was theveriest of landlubbers, so I was forced to give over bailing andtake the tiller. The wind was blowing directly off Point Pedro andthe high mountains behind, and because of this was squally anduncertain, half the time bellying the canvas out and the other halfflapping it idly. 

George was about the most all-round helpless man I had ever met. Among his other disabilities, he was a consumptive, and I knew thatif he attempted to bail, it might bring on a hemorrhage. Yet therising water warned me that something must be done. Again Iordered the shrimp-catchers to lend a hand with the buckets. Theylaughed defiantly, and those inside the cabin, the water up totheir ankles, shouted back and forth with those on top. 

"You'd better get out your gun and make them bail, " I said toGeorge. 

But he shook his head and showed all too plainly that he wasafraid. The Chinese could see the funk he was in as well as Icould, and their insolence became insufferable. Those in the cabinbroke into the food lockers, and those above scrambled down andjoined them in a feast on our crackers and canned goods. 

"What do we care?" George said weakly. 

I was fuming with helpless anger. "If they get out of hand, itwill be too late to care. The best thing you can do is to get themin check right now. "

The water was rising higher and higher, and the gusts, forerunnersof a steady breeze, were growing stiffer and stiffer. And betweenthe gusts, the prisoners, having gotten away with a week's grub, took to crowding first to one side and then to the other till theReindeer rocked like a cockle-shell. Yellow Handkerchiefapproached me, and, pointing out his village on the Point Pedrobeach, gave me to understand that if I turned the Reindeer in thatdirection 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 hewas disappointed. 

"If you don't show some nerve, they'll rush us and throw usoverboard, " I said to him. "Better give me your revolver, if youwant to be safe. "

"The safest thing to do, " he chattered cravenly, "is to put themashore. I, for one, don't want to be drowned for the sake of ahandful of dirty Chinamen. "

"And I, for another, don't care to give in to a handful of dirtyChinamen to escape drowning, " I answered hotly. 

"You'll sink the Reindeer under us all at this rate, " he whined. "And what good that'll do I can't see. "

"Every man to his taste, " I retorted. 

He made no reply, but I could see he was trembling pitifully. Between the threatening Chinese and the rising water he was besidehimself with fright; and, more than the Chinese and the water, Ifeared him and what his fright might impel him to do. I could seehim casting longing glances at the small skiff towing astern, so inthe next calm I hauled the skiff alongside. As I did so his eyesbrightened with hope; but before he could guess my intention, Istove the frail bottom through with a hand-axe, and the skifffilled to its gunwales. 

"It's sink or float together, " I said. "And if you'll give me yourrevolver, I'll have the Reindeer bailed out in a jiffy. "

"They're too many for us, " he whimpered. "We can't fight themall. "

I turned my back on him in disgust. The salmon boat had long sincepassed from sight behind a little archipelago known as the MarinIslands, so no help could be looked for from that quarter. YellowHandkerchief came up to me in a familiar manner, the water in thecockpit slushing against his legs. I did not like his looks. Ifelt that beneath the pleasant smile he was trying to put on hisface there was an ill purpose. I ordered him back, and so sharplythat he obeyed. 

"Now keep your distance, " I commanded, "and don't you come closer!"

"Wha' fo'?" he demanded indignantly. "I t'ink-um talkee talkeeheap good. "

"Talkee talkee, " I answered bitterly, for I knew now that he hadunderstood all that passed between George and me. "What for talkeetalkee? You no sabbe talkee talkee. "

He grinned in a sickly fashion. "Yep, I sabbe velly much. Ihonest Chinaman. "

"All right, " I answered. "You sabbe talkee talkee, then you bailwater plenty plenty. After that we talkee talkee. "

He shook his head, at the same time pointing over his shoulder tohis comrades. "No can do. Velly bad Chinamen, heap velly bad. It'ink-um--"

"Stand back!" I shouted, for I had noticed his hand disappearbeneath his blouse and his body prepare for a spring. 

Disconcerted, he went back into the cabin, to hold a council, apparently, from the way the jabbering broke forth. The Reindeerwas very deep in the water, and her movements had grown quiteloggy. In a rough sea she would have inevitably swamped; but thewind, when it did blow, was off the land, and scarcely a rippledisturbed the surface of the bay. 

"I think you'd better head for the beach, " George said abruptly, ina manner that told me his fear had forced him to make up his mindto some course of action. 

"I think not, " I answered shortly. 

"I command you, " he said in a bullying tone. 

"I was commanded to bring these prisoners into San Rafael, " was myreply. 

Our voices were raised, and the sound of the altercation broughtthe Chinese out of the cabin. 

"Now will you head for the beach?"

This from George, and I found myself looking into the muzzle of hisrevolver--of the revolver he dared to use on me, but was toocowardly to use on the prisoners. 

My brain seemed smitten with a dazzling brightness. The wholesituation, in all its bearings, was focussed sharply before me--theshame of losing the prisoners, the worthlessness and cowardice ofGeorge, the meeting with Le Grant and the other patrol men and thelame explanation; and then there was the fight I had fought sohard, victory wrenched from me just as I thought I had it within mygrasp. And out of the tail of my eye I could see the Chinesecrowding together by the cabin doors and leering triumphantly. Itwould never do. 

I threw my hand up and my head down. The first act elevated themuzzle, and the second removed my head from the path of the bulletwhich went whistling past. One hand closed on George's wrist, theother on the revolver. Yellow Handkerchief and his gang sprangtoward me. It was now or never. Putting all my strength into asudden effort, I swung George's body forward to meet them. Then Ipulled back with equal suddenness, ripping the revolver out of hisfingers and jerking him off his feet. He fell against YellowHandkerchief's knees, who stumbled over him, and the pair wallowedin the bailing hole where the cockpit floor was torn open. Thenext instant I was covering them with my revolver, and the wildshrimp-catchers were cowering and cringing away. 

But I swiftly discovered that there was all the difference in theworld between shooting men who are attacking and men who are doingnothing more than simply refusing to obey. For obey they would notwhen I ordered them into the bailing hole. I threatened them withthe revolver, but they sat stolidly in the flooded cabin and on theroof and would not move. 

Fifteen minutes passed, the Reindeer sinking deeper and deeper, hermainsail flapping in the calm. But from off the Point Pedro shoreI saw a dark line form on the water and travel toward us. It wasthe steady breeze I had been expecting so long. I called to theChinese and pointed it out. They hailed it with exclamations. Then I pointed to the sail and to the water in the Reindeer, andindicated by signs that when the wind reached the sail, what of thewater aboard we would capsize. But they jeered defiantly, for theyknew it was in my power to luff the helm and let go the main-sheet, so as to spill the wind and escape damage. 

But my mind was made up. I hauled in the main-sheet a foot or two, took a turn with it, and bracing my feet, put my back against thetiller. This left me one hand for the sheet and one for therevolver. The dark line drew nearer, and I could see them lookingfrom me to it and back again with an apprehension they could notsuccessfully conceal. My brain and will and endurance were pittedagainst theirs, and the problem was which could stand the strain ofimminent death the longer and not give in. 

Then the wind struck us. The main-sheet tautened with a briskrattling of the blocks, the boom uplifted, the sail bellied out, and the Reindeer heeled over--over, and over, till the lee-railwent under, the cabin windows went under, and the bay began to pourin over the cockpit rail. So violently had she heeled over, thatthe men in the cabin had been thrown on top of one another into thelee bunk, where they squirmed and twisted and were washed about, those underneath being perilously near to drowning. 

The wind freshened a bit, and the Reindeer went over farther thanever. For the moment I thought she was gone, and I knew thatanother puff like that and she surely would go. While I pressedher under and debated whether I should give up or not, the Chinesecried for mercy. I think it was the sweetest sound I have everheard. And then, and not until then, did I luff up and ease outthe main-sheet. The Reindeer righted very slowly, and when she wason an even keel was so much awash that I doubted if she could besaved. 

But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell tobailing with buckets, pots, pans, and everything they could layhands on. It was a beautiful sight to see that water flying overthe side! And when the Reindeer was high and proud on the wateronce more, we dashed away with the breeze on our quarter, and atthe last possible moment crossed the mud flats and entered theslough. 

The spirit of the Chinese was broken, and so docile did they becomethat ere we made San Rafael they were out with the tow-rope, YellowHandkerchief at the head of the line. As for George, it was hislast trip with the fish patrol. He did not care for that sort ofthing, he explained, and he thought a clerkship ashore was goodenough for him. And we thought so too. 

THE KING OF THE GREEKS

Big Alec had never been captured by the fish patrol. It was hisboast that no man could take him alive, and it was his history thatof 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 totake him dead had died themselves. Further, no man violated thefish laws more systematically and deliberately than Big Alec. 

He was called "Big Alec" because of his gigantic stature. Hisheight was six feet three inches, and he was correspondingly broad-shouldered and deep-chested. He was splendidly muscled and hard assteel, and there were innumerable stories in circulation among thefisher-folk concerning his prodigious strength. He was as bold anddominant of spirit as he was strong of body, and because of this hewas widely known by another name, that of "The King of the Greeks. "The fishing population was largely composed of Greeks, and theylooked up to him and obeyed him as their chief. And as theirchief, he fought their fights for them, saw that they wereprotected, saved them from the law when they fell into itsclutches, and made them stand by one another and himself in time oftrouble. 

In the old days, the fish patrol had attempted his capture manydisastrous times and had finally given it over, so that when theword was out that he was coming to Benicia, I was most anxious tosee him. But I did not have to hunt him up. In his usual boldway, the first thing he did on arriving was to hunt us up. CharleyLe Grant and I at the time were under a patrol-man named Carmintel, and the three of us were on the Reindeer, preparing for a trip, when Big Alec stepped aboard. Carmintel evidently knew him, forthey shook hands in recognition. Big Alec took no notice ofCharley or me. 

"I've come down to fish sturgeon a couple of months, " he said toCarmintel. 

His eyes flashed with challenge as he spoke, and we noticed thepatrolman's eyes drop before him. 

"That's all right, Alec, " Carmintel said in a low voice. "I'll notbother you. Come on into the cabin, and we'll talk things over, "he added. 

When they had gone inside and shut the doors after them, Charleywinked 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 wrongabout the business. 

Leaving them to their conference, at Charley's suggestion weboarded our skiff and pulled over to the Old Steamboat Wharf, whereBig Alec's ark was lying. An ark is a house-boat of small thoughcomfortable dimensions, and is as necessary to the Upper Bayfisherman as are nets and boats. We were both curious to see BigAlec's ark, for history said that it had been the scene of morethan one pitched battle, and that it was riddled with bullet-holes. 

We found the holes (stopped with wooden plugs and painted over), but there were not so many as I had expected. Charley noted mylook of disappointment, and laughed; and then to comfort me he gavean authentic account of one expedition which had descended upon BigAlec's floating home to capture him, alive preferably, dead ifnecessary. At the end of half a day's fighting, the patrolmen haddrawn off in wrecked boats, with one of their number killed andthree wounded. And when they returned next morning withreinforcements they found only the mooring-stakes of Big Alec'sark; the ark itself remained hidden for months in the fastnesses ofthe Suisun tules. 

"But why was he not hanged for murder?" I demanded. "Surely theUnited States is powerful enough to bring such a man to justice. "

"He gave himself up and stood trial, " Charley answered. "It costhim fifty thousand dollars to win the case, which he did ontechnicalities and with the aid of the best lawyers in the state. Every Greek fisherman on the river contributed to the sum. BigAlec levied and collected the tax, for all the world like a king. The United States may be all-powerful, my lad, but the fact remainsthat Big Alec is a king inside the United States, with a countryand subjects all his own. "

"But what are you going to do about his fishing for sturgeon? He'sbound to fish with a 'Chinese line. '"

Charley shrugged his shoulders. "We'll see what we will see, " hesaid enigmatically. 

Now a "Chinese line" is a cunning device invented by the peoplewhose name it bears. By a simple system of floats, weights, andanchors, thousands of hooks, each on a separate leader, aresuspended at a distance of from six inches to a foot above thebottom. The remarkable thing about such a line is the hook. It isbarbless, and in place of the barb, the hook is filed long andtapering to a point as sharp as that of a needle. These hoods areonly a few inches apart, and when several thousand of them aresuspended just above the bottom, like a fringe, for a couple ofhundred fathoms, they present a formidable obstacle to the fishthat travel along the bottom. 

Such a fish is the sturgeon, which goes rooting along like a pig, and indeed is often called "pig-fish. " Pricked by the first hookit touches, the sturgeon gives a startled leap and comes intocontact with half a dozen more hooks. Then it threshes aboutwildly, until it receives hook after hook in its soft flesh; andthe hooks, straining from many different angles, hold the lucklessfish fast until it is drowned. Because no sturgeon can passthrough a Chinese line, the device is called a trap in the fishlaws; and because it bids fair to exterminate the sturgeon, it isbranded by the fish laws as illegal. And such a line, we wereconfident, Big Alec intended setting, in open and flagrantviolation of the law. 

Several days passed after the visit of Big Alec, during whichCharley and I kept a sharp watch on him. He towed his ark aroundthe Solano Wharf and into the big bight at Turner's Shipyard. Thebight we knew to be good ground for sturgeon, and there we feltsure the King of the Greeks intended to begin operations. The tidecircled like a mill-race in and out of this bight, and made itpossible to raise, lower, or set a Chinese line only at slackwater. So between the tides Charley and I made it a point for oneor the other of us to keep a lookout from the Solano Wharf. 

On the fourth day I was lying in the sun behind the stringer-pieceof the wharf, when I saw a skiff leave the distant shore and pullout into the bight. In an instant the glasses were at my eyes andI was following every movement of the skiff. There were two men init, and though it was a good mile away, I made out one of them tobe Big Alec; and ere the skiff returned to shore I made out enoughmore to know that the Greek had set his line. 

"Big Alec has a Chinese line out in the bight off Turner'sShipyard, " Charley Le Grant said that afternoon to Carmintel. 

A fleeting expression of annoyance passed over the patrolman'sface, and then he said, "Yes?" in an absent way, and that was all. 

Charley bit his lip with suppressed anger and turned on his heel. 

"Are you game, my lad?" he said to me later on in the evening, justas we finished washing down the Reindeer's decks and were preparingto turn in. 

A lump came up in my throat, and I could only nod my head. 

"Well, then, " and Charley's eyes glittered in a determined way, "we've got to capture Big Alec between us, you and I, and we've gotto do it in spite of Carmintel. Will you lend a hand?"

"It's a hard proposition, but we can do it, " he added after apause. 

"Of course we can, " I supplemented enthusiastically. 

And then he said, "Of course we can, " and we shook hands on it andwent to bed. 

But it was no easy task we had set ourselves. In order to convicta man of illegal fishing, it was necessary to catch him in the actwith all the evidence of the crime about him--the hooks, the lines, the fish, and the man himself. This meant that we must take BigAlec on the open water, where he could see us coming and preparefor us one of the warm receptions for which he was noted. 

"There's no getting around it, " Charley said one morning. "If wecan only get alongside it's an even toss, and there's nothing leftfor us but to try and get alongside. Come on, lad. "

We were in the Columbia River salmon boat, the one we had usedagainst the Chinese shrimp-catchers. Slack water had come, and aswe dropped around the end of the Solano Wharf we saw Big Alec atwork, running his line and removing the fish. 

"Change places, " Charley commanded, "and steer just astern of himas though you're going into the shipyard. "

I took the tiller, and Charley sat down on a thwart amidships, placing his revolver handily beside him. 

"If he begins to shoot, " he cautioned, "get down in the bottom andsteer from there, so that nothing more than your hand will beexposed. "

I nodded, and we kept silent after that, the boat slipping gentlythrough the water and Big Alec growing nearer and nearer. We couldsee him quite plainly, gaffing the sturgeon and throwing them intothe boat while his companion ran the line and cleared the hooks ashe dropped them back into the water. Nevertheless, we were fivehundred yards away when the big fisherman hailed us. 

"Here! You! What do you want?" he shouted. 

"Keep going, " Charley whispered, "just as though you didn't hearhim. "

The next few moments were very anxious ones. The fisherman wasstudying us sharply, while we were gliding up on him every second. 

"You keep off if you know what's good for you!" he called outsuddenly, as though he had made up his mind as to who and what wewere. "If you don't, I'll fix you!"

He brought a rifle to his shoulder and trained it on me. 

"Now will you keep off?" he demanded. 

I could hear Charley groan with disappointment. "Keep off, " hewhispered; "it's all up for this time. "

I put up the tiller and eased the sheet, and the salmon boat ranoff five or six points. Big Alec watched us till we were out ofrange, when he returned to his work. 

"You'd better leave Big Alec alone, " Carmintel said, rather sourly, to Charley that night. 

"So he's been complaining to you, has he?" Charley saidsignificantly. 

Carmintel flushed painfully. "You'd better leave him alone, I tellyou, " he repeated. "He's a dangerous man, and it won't pay to foolwith him. "

"Yes, " Charley answered softly; "I've heard that it pays better toleave him alone. "

This was a direct thrust at Carmintel, and we could see by theexpression of his face that it sank home. For it was commonknowledge that Big Alec was as willing to bribe as to fight, andthat of late years more than one patrolman had handled thefisherman's money. 

"Do you mean to say--" Carmintel began, in a bullying tone. 

But Charley cut him off shortly. "I mean to say nothing, " he said. "You heard what I said, and if the cap fits, why--"

He shrugged his shoulders, and Carmintel glowered at him, speechless. 

"What we want is imagination, " Charley said to me one day, when wehad attempted to creep upon Big Alec in the gray of dawn and hadbeen shot at for our trouble. 

And thereafter, and for many days, I cudgelled my brains trying toimagine some possible way by which two men, on an open stretch ofwater, could capture another who knew how to use a rifle and wasnever to be found without one. Regularly, every slack water, without slyness, boldly and openly in the broad day, Big Alec wasto be seen running his line. And what made it particularlyexasperating was the fact that every fisherman, from Benicia toVallejo knew that he was successfully defying us. Carmintel alsobothered us, for he kept us busy among the shad-fishers of SanPablo, so that we had little time to spare on the King of theGreeks. But Charley's wife and children lived at Benicia, and wehad made the place our headquarters, so that we always returned toit. 

"I'll tell you what we can do, " I said, after several fruitlessweeks had passed; "we can wait some slack water till Big Alec hasrun his line and gone ashore with the fish, and then we can go outand capture the line. It will put him to time and expense to makeanother, and then we'll figure to capture that too. If we can'tcapture him, we can discourage him, you see. "

Charley saw, and said it wasn't a bad idea. We watched our chance, and the next low-water slack, after Big Alec had removed the fishfrom 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 wewould have no difficulty in locating it. The first of the floodtide was setting in, when we ran below where we thought the linewas stretched and dropped over a fishing-boat anchor. Keeping ashort rope to the anchor, so that it barely touched the bottom, wedragged it slowly along until it stuck and the boat fetched up hardand fast. 

"We've got it, " Charley cried. "Come on and lend a hand to get itin. "

Together we hove up the rope till the anchor I came in sight withthe sturgeon line caught across one of the flukes. Scores of themurderous-looking hooks flashed into sight as we cleared theanchor, and we had just started to run along the line to the endwhere we could begin to lift it, when a sharp thud in the boatstartled us. We looked about, but saw nothing and returned to ourwork. An instant later there was a similar sharp thud and thegunwale splintered between Charley's body and mine. 

"That's remarkably like a bullet, lad, " he said reflectively. "Andit's a long shot Big Alec's making. "

"And he's using smokeless powder, " he concluded, after anexamination of the mile-distant shore. "That's why we can't hearthe report. "

I looked at the shore, but could see no sign of Big Alec, who wasundoubtedly hidden in some rocky nook with us at his mercy. Athird bullet struck the water, glanced, passed singing over ourheads, and struck the water again beyond. 

"I guess we'd better get out of this, " Charley remarked coolly. "What do you think, lad?"

I thought so, too, and said we didn't want the line anyway. Whereupon we cast off and hoisted the spritsail. The bulletsceased at once, and we sailed away, unpleasantly confident that BigAlec was laughing at our discomfiture. 

And more than that, the next day on the fishing wharf, where wewere inspecting nets, he saw fit to laugh and sneer at us, and thisbefore all the fishermen. Charley's face went black with anger;but beyond promising Big Alec that in the end he would surely landhim behind the bars, he controlled himself and said nothing. TheKing of the Greeks made his boast that no fish patrol had evertaken him or ever could take him, and the fishermen cheered him andsaid it was true. They grew excited, and it looked like troublefor a while; but Big Alec asserted his kingship and quelled them. 

Carmintel also laughed at Charley, and dropped sarcastic remarks, and made it hard for him. But Charley refused to be angered, though he told me in confidence that he intended to capture BigAlec if it took all the rest of his life to accomplish it. 

"I don't know how I'll do it, " he said, "but do it I will, as sureas I am Charley Le Grant. The idea will come to me at the rightand proper time, never fear. "

And at the right time it came, and most unexpectedly. Fully amonth had passed, and we were constantly up and down the river, anddown and up the bay, with no spare moments to devote to theparticular fisherman who ran a Chinese line in the bight ofTurner's Shipyard. We had called in at Selby's Smelter oneafternoon, while on patrol work, when all unknown to us ouropportunity happened along. It appeared in the guise of a helplessyacht loaded with seasick people, so we could hardly be expected torecognize it as the opportunity. It was a large sloop-yacht, andit was helpless inasmuch as the trade-wind was blowing half a galeand there were no capable sailors aboard. 

From the wharf at Selby's we watched with careless interest thelubberly manoeuvre performed of bringing the yacht to anchor, andthe equally lubberly manoeuvre of sending the small boat ashore. Avery miserable-looking man in draggled ducks, after nearly swampingthe boat in the heavy seas, passed us the painter and climbed out. He staggered about as though the wharf were rolling, and told ushis troubles, which were the troubles of the yacht. The onlyrough-weather sailor aboard, the man on whom they all depended, hadbeen called back to San Francisco by a telegram, and they hadattempted to continue the cruise alone. The high wind and big seasof 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 into the smelter either to desert the yacht or to get somebody tobring it to Benicia. In short, did we know of any sailors whowould bring the yacht into Benicia?

Charley looked at me. The Reindeer was lying in a snug place. Wehad nothing on hand in the way of patrol work till midnight. Withthe wind then blowing, we could sail the yacht into Benicia in acouple of hours, have several more hours ashore, and come back tothe smelter on the evening train. 

"All right, captain, " Charley said to the disconsolate yachtsman, who smiled in sickly fashion at the title. 

"I'm only the owner, " he explained. 

We rowed him aboard in much better style than he had come ashore, and saw for ourselves the helplessness of the passengers. Therewere a dozen men and women, and all of them too sick even to appeargrateful at our coming. The yacht was rolling savagely, broad on, and no sooner had the owner's feet touched the deck than hecollapsed and joined, the others. Not one was able to bear a hand, so Charley and I between us cleared the badly tangled running gear, got up sail, and hoisted anchor. 

It was a rough trip, though a swift one. The Carquinez Straitswere a welter of foam and smother, and we came through them wildlybefore the wind, the big mainsail alternately dipping and flingingits 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 racedand sank dizzily into the trough, and between-whiles regarding theshore with yearning eyes. The rest were huddled on the cabin flooramong the cushions. Now and again some one groaned, but for themost part they were as limp as so many dead persons. 

As the bight at Turner's Shipyard opened out, Charley edged into itto get the smoother water. Benicia was in view, and we werebowling along over comparatively easy water, when a speck of a boatdanced up ahead of us, directly in our course. It was low-waterslack. Charley and I looked at each other. No word was spoken, but at once the yacht began a most astonishing performance, veeringand yawing as though the greenest of amateurs was at the wheel. Itwas a sight for sailormen to see. To all appearances, a runawayyacht was careering madly over the bight, and now and againyielding a little bit to control in a desperate effort to makeBenicia. 

The owner forgot his seasickness long enough to look anxious. Thespeck of a boat grew larger and larger, till we could see Big Alecand his partner, with a turn of the sturgeon line around a cleat, resting from their labor to laugh at us. Charley pulled hissou'wester over his eyes, and I followed his example, though Icould not guess the idea he evidently had in mind and intended tocarry into execution. 

We came foaming down abreast of the skiff, so close that we couldhear above the wind the voices of Big Alec and his mate as theyshouted at us with all the scorn that professional watermen feelfor amateurs, especially when amateurs are making fools ofthemselves. 

We thundered on past the fishermen, and nothing had happened. Charley grinned at the disappointment he saw in my face, and thenshouted:

"Stand by the main-sheet to jibe!"

He put the wheel hard over, and the yacht whirled aroundobediently. The main-sheet slacked and dipped, then shot over ourheads after the boom and tautened with a crash on the traveller. The yacht heeled over almost on her beam ends, and a great wailwent up from the seasick passengers as they swept across the cabinfloor in a tangled mass and piled into a heap in the starboardbunks. 

But we had no time for them. The yacht, completing the manoeuvre, headed into the wind with slatting canvas, and righted to an evenkeel. We were still plunging ahead, and directly in our path wasthe skiff. I saw Big Alec dive overboard and his mate leap for ourbowsprit. Then came the crash as we struck the boat, and a seriesof grinding bumps as it passed under our bottom. 

"That fixes his rifle, " I heard Charley mutter, as he sprang uponthe deck to look for Big Alec somewhere astern. 

The wind and sea quickly stopped our forward movement, and we beganto drift backward over the spot where the skiff had been. BigAlec's black head and swarthy face popped up within arm's reach;and all unsuspecting and very angry with what he took to be theclumsiness of amateur sailors, he was hauled aboard. Also he wasout of breath, for he had dived deep and stayed down long to escapeour keel. 

The next instant, to the perplexity and consternation of the owner, Charley was on top of Big Alec in the cockpit, and I was helpingbind him with gaskets. The owner was dancing excitedly about anddemanding an explanation, but by that time Big Alec's partner hadcrawled aft from the bowsprit and was peering apprehensively overthe rail into the cockpit. Charley's arm shot around his neck andthe man landed on his back beside Big Alec. 

"More gaskets!" Charley shouted, and I made haste to supply them. 

The wrecked skiff was rolling sluggishly a short distance towindward, and I trimmed the sheets while Charley took the wheel andsteered for it. 

"These two men are old offenders, " he explained to the angry owner;"and they are most persistent violators of the fish and game laws. You have seen them caught in the act, and you may expect to besubpoenaed as witness for the state when the trial comes off. "

As he spoke he rounded alongside the skiff. It had been torn fromthe line, a section of which was dragging to it. He hauled inforty or fifty feet with a young sturgeon still fast in a tangle ofbarbless hooks, slashed that much of the line free with his knife, and tossed it into the cockpit beside the prisoners. 

"And there's the evidence, Exhibit A, for the people, " Charleycontinued. "Look it over carefully so that you may identify it inthe court-room with the time and place of capture. "

And then, in triumph, with no more veering and yawing, we sailedinto Benicia, the King of the Greeks bound hard and fast in thecockpit, and for the first time in his life a prisoner of the fishpatrol. 

A RAID ON THE OYSTER PIRATES

Of the fish patrolmen under whom we served at various times, Charley Le Grant and I were agreed, I think, that Neil Partingtonwas the best. He was neither dishonest nor cowardly; and while hedemanded strict obedience when we were under his orders, at thesame time our relations were those of easy comradeship, and hepermitted us a freedom to which we were ordinarily unaccustomed, asthe present story will show. 

Neil's family lived in Oakland, which is on the Lower Bay, not morethan six miles across the water from San Francisco. One day, whilescouting among the Chinese shrimp-catchers of Point Pedro, hereceived word that his wife was very ill; and within the hour theReindeer was bowling along for Oakland, with a stiff northwestbreeze astern. We ran up the Oakland Estuary and came to anchor, and in the days that followed, while Neil was ashore, we tightenedup the Reindeer's rigging, overhauled the ballast, scraped down, and put the sloop into thorough shape. 

This done, time hung heavy on our hands. Neil's wife wasdangerously ill, and the outlook was a week's lie-over, awaitingthe crisis. Charley and I roamed the docks, wondering what weshould do, and so came upon the oyster fleet lying at the OaklandCity Wharf. In the main they were trim, natty boats, made forspeed and bad weather, and we sat down on the stringer-piece of thedock to study them. 

"A good catch, I guess, " Charley said, pointing to the heaps ofoysters, assorted in three sizes, which lay upon their decks. 

Pedlers were backing their wagons to the edge of the wharf, andfrom the bargaining and chaffering that went on, I managed to learnthe selling price of the oysters. 

"That boat must have at least two hundred dollars' worth aboard, " Icalculated. "I wonder how long it took to get the load?"

"Three or four days, " Charley answered. "Not bad wages for twomen--twenty-five dollars a day apiece. "

The boat we were discussing, the Ghost, lay directly beneath us. Two men composed its crew. One was a squat, broad-shoulderedfellow with remarkably long and gorilla-like arms, while the otherwas tall and well proportioned, with clear blue eyes and a mat ofstraight black hair. So unusual and striking was this combinationof hair and eyes that Charley and I remained somewhat longer thanwe intended. 

And it was well that we did. A stout, elderly man, with the dressand carriage of a successful merchant, came up and stood beside us, looking down upon the deck of the Ghost. He appeared angry, andthe longer he looked the angrier he grew. 

"Those are my oysters, " he said at last. "I know they are myoysters. You raided my beds last night and robbed me of them. "

The tall man and the short man on the Ghost looked up. 

"Hello, Taft, " the short man said, with insolent familiarity. (Among the bayfarers he had gained the nickname of "The Centipede"on account of his long arms. ) "Hello, Taft, " he repeated, with thesame touch of insolence. "Wot 'r you growling about now?"

"Those are my oysters--that's what I said. You've stolen them frommy beds. "

"Yer mighty wise, ain't ye?" was the Centipede's sneering reply. "S'pose you can tell your oysters wherever you see 'em?"

"Now, in my experience, " broke in the tall man, "oysters is oysterswherever you find 'em, an' they're pretty much alike all the Bayover, and the world over, too, for that matter. We're not wantin'to quarrel with you, Mr. Taft, but we jes' wish you wouldn'tinsinuate that them oysters is yours an' that we're thieves an'robbers till you can prove the goods. "

"I know they're mine; I'd stake my life on it!" Mr. Taft snorted. 

"Prove it, " challenged the tall man, who we afterward learned wasknown as "The Porpoise" because of his wonderful swimmingabilities. 

Mr. Taft shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Of course he could notprove the oysters to be his, no matter how certain he might be. 

"I'd give a thousand dollars to have you men behind the bars!" hecried. "I'll give fifty dollars a head for your arrest andconviction, all of you!"

A roar of laughter went up from the different boats, for the restof the pirates had been listening to the discussion. 

"There's more money in oysters, " the Porpoise remarked dryly. 

Mr. Taft turned impatiently on his heel and walked away. From outof the corner of his eye, Charley noted the way he went. Severalminutes later, when he had disappeared around a corner, Charleyrose lazily to his feet. I followed him, and we sauntered off inthe opposite direction to that taken by Mr. Taft. 

"Come on! Lively!" Charley whispered, when we passed from the viewof the oyster fleet. 

Our course was changed at once, and we dodged around corners andraced up and down side-streets till Mr. Taft's generous form loomedup ahead of us. 

"I'm going to interview him about that reward, " Charley explained, as we rapidly over-hauled the oyster-bed owner. "Neil will bedelayed here for a week, and you and I might as well be doingsomething in the meantime. What do you say?"

"Of course, of course, " Mr. Taft said, when Charley had introducedhimself and explained his errand. "Those thieves are robbing me ofthousands of dollars every year, and I shall be glad to break themup at any price, --yes, sir, at any price. As I said, I'll givefifty dollars a head, and call it cheap at that. They've robbed mybeds, torn down my signs, terrorized my watchmen, and last yearkilled one of them. Couldn't prove it. All done in the blacknessof night. All I had was a dead watchman and no evidence. Thedetectives could do nothing. Nobody has been able to do anythingwith those men. We have never succeeded in arresting one of them. So I say, Mr. --What did you say your name was?"

"Le Grant, " Charley answered. 

"So I say, Mr. Le Grant, I am deeply obliged to you for theassistance you offer. And I shall be glad, most glad, sir, to co-operate with you in every way. My watchmen and boats are at yourdisposal. 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 arewithin reason. The situation is growing desperate, and somethingmust be done to determine whether I or that band of ruffians ownthose oyster beds. "

"Now we'll see Neil, " Charley said, when he had seen Mr. Taft uponhis train to San Francisco. 

Not only did Neil Partington interpose no obstacle to ouradventure, but he proved to be of the greatest assistance. Charleyand I knew nothing of the oyster industry, while his head was anencyclopaedia of facts concerning it. Also, within an hour or so, he was able to bring to us a Greek boy of seventeen or eighteen whoknew thoroughly well the ins and outs of oyster piracy. 

At this point I may as well explain that we of the fish patrol werefree lances in a way. While Neil Partington, who was a patrolmanproper, received a regular salary, Charley and I, being merelydeputies, received only what we earned--that is to say, a certainpercentage of the fines imposed on convicted violators of the fishlaws. Also, any rewards that chanced our way were ours. Weoffered to share with Partington whatever we should get from Mr. Taft, but the patrolman would not hear of it. He was only toohappy, he said, to do a good turn for us, who had done so many forhim. 

We held a long council of war, and mapped out the following line ofaction. Our faces were unfamiliar on the Lower Bay, but as theReindeer was well known as a fish-patrol sloop, the Greek boy, whose name was Nicholas, and I were to sail some innocent-lookingcraft down to Asparagus Island and join the oyster pirates' fleet. Here, according to Nicholas's description of the beds and themanner of raiding, it was possible for us to catch the pirates inthe act of stealing oysters, and at the same time to get them inour power. Charley was to be on the shore, with Mr. Taft'swatchmen and a posse of constables, to help us at the right time. 

"I know just the boat, " Neil said, at the conclusion of thediscussion, "a crazy old sloop that's lying over at Tiburon. Youand Nicholas can go over by the ferry, charter it for a song, andsail direct for the beds. "

"Good luck be with you, boys, " he said at parting, two days later. "Remember, they are dangerous men, so be careful. "

Nicholas and I succeeded in chartering the sloop very cheaply; andbetween laughs, while getting up sail, we agreed that she was evencrazier and older than she had been described. She was a big, flat-bottomed, square-sterned craft, sloop-rigged, with a sprungmast, slack rigging, dilapidated sails, and rotten running-gear, clumsy to handle and uncertain in bringing about, and she smelledvilely of coal tar, with which strange stuff she had been smearedfrom stem to stern and from cabin-roof to centreboard. And to capit all, Coal Tar Maggie was printed in great white letters thewhole length of either side. 

It was an uneventful though laughable run from Tiburon to AsparagusIsland, where we arrived in the afternoon of the following day. The oyster pirates, a fleet of a dozen sloops, were lying at anchoron what was known as the "Deserted Beds. " The Coal Tar Maggie camesloshing into their midst with a light breeze astern, and theycrowded on deck to see us. Nicholas and I had caught the spirit ofthe crazy craft, and we handled her in most lubberly fashion. 

"Wot is it?" some one called. 

"Name it 'n' ye kin have it!" called another. 

"I swan naow, ef it ain't the old Ark itself!" mimicked theCentipede from the deck of the Ghost. 

"Hey! Ahoy there, clipper ship!" another wag shouted. "Wot's yerport?"

We took no notice of the joking, but acted, after the manner ofgreenhorns, as though the Coal Tar Maggie required our undividedattention. I rounded her well to windward of the Ghost, andNicholas ran for'ard to drop the anchor. To all appearances it wasa bungle, the way the chain tangled and kept the anchor fromreaching the bottom. And to all appearances Nicholas and I wereterribly excited as we strove to clear it. At any rate, we quitedeceived the pirates, who took huge delight in our predicament. 

But the chain remained tangled, and amid all kinds of mockingadvice we drifted down upon and fouled the Ghost, whose bowspritpoked square through our mainsail and ripped a hole in it as big asa barn door. The Centipede and the Porpoise doubled up on thecabin in paroxysms of laughter, and left us to get clear as best wecould. This, with much unseaman-like performance, we succeeded indoing, and likewise in clearing the anchor-chain, of which we letout about three hundred feet. With only ten feet of water underus, this would permit the Coal Tar Maggie to swing in a circle sixhundred feet in diameter, in which circle she would be able to foulat least half the fleet. 

The oyster pirates lay snugly together at short hawsers, theweather being fine, and they protested loudly at our ignorance inputting out such an unwarranted length of anchor-chain. And notonly did they protest, for they made us heave it in again, all butthirty feet. 

Having sufficiently impressed them with our general lubberliness, Nicholas and I went below to congratulate ourselves and to cooksupper. Hardly had we finished the meal and washed the dishes, when a skiff ground against the Coal Tar Maggie's side, and heavyfeet trampled on deck. Then the Centipede's brutal face appearedin the companionway, and he descended into the cabin, followed bythe Porpoise. Before they could seat themselves on a bunk, anotherskiff came alongside, and another, and another, till the wholefleet was represented by the gathering in the cabin. 

"Where'd you swipe the old tub?" asked a squat and hairy man, withcruel eyes and Mexican features. 

"Didn't swipe it, " Nicholas answered, meeting them on their ownground and encouraging the idea that we had stolen the Coal TarMaggie. "And if we did, what of it?"

"Well, I don't admire your taste, that's all, " sneered he of theMexican features. "I'd rot on the beach first before I'd take atub that couldn't get out of its own way. "

"How were we to know till we tried her?" Nicholas asked, soinnocently 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, aload of oysters. "

"What d'ye want 'em for?" demanded the Porpoise. 

"Oh, to give away to our friends, of course, " Nicholas retorted. "That's what you do with yours, I suppose. "

This started another laugh, and as our visitors grew more genial wecould see that they had not the slightest suspicion of our identityor purpose. 

"Didn't I see you on the dock in Oakland the other day?" theCentipede asked suddenly of me. 

"Yep, " I answered boldly, taking the bull by the horns. "I waswatching you fellows and figuring out whether we'd go oystering ornot. It's a pretty good business, I calculate, and so we're goingin for it. That is, " I hastened to add, "if you fellows don'tmind. "

"I'll tell you one thing, which ain't two things, " he replied, "andthat is you'll have to hump yerself an' get a better boat. Wewon't stand to be disgraced by any such box as this. Understand?"

"Sure, " I said. "Soon as we sell some oysters we'll outfit instyle. "

"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 voicebecame stern and menacing), "why, it'll be the sickest day of yerlife. Understand?"

"Sure, " I said. 

After that and more warning and advice of similar nature, theconversation became general, and we learned that the beds were tobe raided that very night. As they got into their boats, after anhour's stay, we were invited to join them in the raid with theassurance of "the more the merrier. "

"Did you notice that short, Mexican-looking chap?" Nicholas asked, when they had departed to their various sloops. "He's Barchi, ofthe Sporting Life Gang, and the fellow that came with him isSkilling. They're both out now on five thousand dollars' bail. "

I had heard of the Sporting Life Gang before, a crowd of hoodlumsand criminals that terrorized the lower quarters of Oakland, andtwo-thirds of which were usually to be found in state's prison forcrimes that ranged from perjury and ballot-box stuffing to murder. 

"They are not regular oyster pirates, " Nicholas continued. "They've just come down for the lark and to make a few dollars. But we'll have to watch out for them. "

We sat in the cockpit and discussed the details of our plan tilleleven o'clock had passed, when we heard the rattle of an oar in aboat from the direction of the Ghost. We hauled up our own skiff, tossed in a few sacks, and rowed over. There we found all theskiffs assembling, it being the intention to raid the beds in abody. 

To my surprise, I found barely a foot of water where we had droppedanchor 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 ouranchorage would be dry ground before slack water. 

Mr. Taft's beds were three miles away, and for a long time we rowedsilently in the wake of the other boats, once in a while groundingand our oar blades constantly striking bottom. At last we cameupon soft mud covered with not more than two inches of water--notenough to float the boats. But the pirates at once were over theside, and by pushing and pulling on the flat-bottomed skiffs, wemoved steadily along. 

The full moon was partly obscured by high-flying clouds, but thepirates went their way with the familiarity born of long practice. After half a mile of the mud, we came upon a deep channel, up whichwe rowed, with dead oyster shoals looming high and dry on eitherside. At last we reached the picking grounds. Two men, on one ofthe shoals, hailed us and warned us off. But the Centipede, thePorpoise, Barchi, and Skilling took the lead, and followed by therest of us, at least thirty men in half as many boats, rowed rightup to the watchmen. 

"You'd better slide outa this here, " Barchi said threateningly, "orwe'll fill you so full of holes you wouldn't float in molasses. "

The watchmen wisely retreated before so overwhelming a force, androwed their boat along the channel toward where the shore shouldbe. Besides, it was in the plan for them to retreat. 

We hauled the noses of the boats up on the shore side of a bigshoal, 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 notime sacks were filled and carried back to the boats, where freshones were obtained. Nicholas and I returned often and anxiously tothe boats with our little loads, but always found some one of thepirates coming or going. 

"Never mind, " he said; "no hurry. As they pick farther and fartheraway, it will take too long to carry to the boats. Then they'llstand the full sacks on end and pick them up when the tide comes inand the skiffs will float to them. "

Fully half an hour went by, and the tide had begun to flood, whenthis came to pass. Leaving the pirates at their work, we stoleback to the boats. One by one, and noiselessly, we shoved them offand made them fast in an awkward flotilla. Just as we were shovingoff the last skiff, our own, one of the men came upon us. It wasBarchi. His quick eye took in the situation at a glance, and hesprang for us; but we went clear with a mighty shove, and he wasleft floundering in the water over his head. As soon as he gotback to the shoal he raised his voice and gave the alarm. 

We rowed with all our strength, but it was slow going with so manyboats in tow. A pistol cracked from the shoal, a second, and athird; then a regular fusillade began. The bullets spat and spatall about us; but thick clouds had covered the moon, and in the dimdarkness it was no more than random firing. It was only by chancethat we could be hit. 

"Wish we had a little steam launch, " I panted. 

"I'd just as soon the moon stayed hidden, " Nicholas panted back. 

It was slow work, but every stroke carried us farther away from theshoal 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 indanger. Not long afterward we answered a shoreward hail, and twoWhitehall boats, each pulled by three pairs of oars, darted up tous. Charley's welcome face bent over to us, and he gripped us bythe hands while he cried, "Oh, you joys! You joys! Both of you!"

When the flotilla had been landed, Nicholas and I and a watchmanrowed out in one of the Whitehalls, with Charley in the stern-sheets. Two other Whitehalls followed us, and as the moon nowshone brightly, we easily made out the oyster pirates on theirlonely shoal. As we drew closer, they fired a rattling volley fromtheir revolvers, and we promptly retreated beyond range. 

"Lot of time, " Charley said. "The flood is setting in fast, and bythe time it's up to their necks there won't be any fight left inthem. "

So we lay on our oars and waited for the tide to do its work. Thiswas the predicament of the pirates: because of the big run-out, the tide was now rushing back like a mill-race, and it wasimpossible for the strongest swimmer in the world to make againstit the three miles to the sloops. Between the pirates and theshore were we, precluding escape in that direction. On the otherhand, the water was rising rapidly over the shoals, and it was onlya question of a few hours when it would be over their heads. 

It was beautifully calm, and in the brilliant white moonlight wewatched them through our night glasses and told Charley of thevoyage of the Coal Tar Maggie. One o'clock came, and two o'clock, and the pirates were clustering on the highest shoal, waist-deep inwater. 

"Now this illustrates the value of imagination, " Charley wassaying. "Taft has been trying for years to get them, but he wentat it with bull strength and failed. Now we used our heads . . . "

Just then I heard a scarcely audible gurgle of water, and holdingup my hand for silence, I turned and pointed to a ripple slowlywidening out in a growing circle. It was not more than fifty feetfrom us. We kept perfectly quiet and waited. After a minute thewater broke six feet away, and a black head and white shouldershowed in the moonlight. With a snort of surprise and of suddenlyexpelled breath, the head and shoulder went down. 

We pulled ahead several strokes and drifted with the current. Fourpairs of eyes searched the surface of the water, but never anotherripple showed, and never another glimpse did we catch of the blackhead and white shoulder. 

"It's the Porpoise, " Nicholas said. "It would take broad daylightfor us to catch him. "

At a quarter to three the pirates gave their first sign ofweakening. We heard cries for help, in the unmistakable voice ofthe Centipede, and this time, on rowing closer, we were not firedupon. The Centipede was in a truly perilous plight. Only theheads and shoulders of his fellow-marauders showed above the wateras they braced themselves against the current, while his feet wereoff the bottom and they were supporting him. 

"Now, lads, " Charley said briskly, "we have got you, and you can'tget away. If you cut up rough, we'll have to leave you alone andthe water will finish you. But if you're good we'll take youaboard, one man at a time, and you'll all be saved. What do yousay?"

"Ay, " they chorused hoarsely between their chattering teeth. 

"Then one man at a time, and the short men first. "

The Centipede was the first to be pulled aboard, and he camewillingly, though he objected when the constable put the handcuffson him. Barchi was next hauled in, quite meek and resigned fromhis soaking. When we had ten in, our boat we drew back, and thesecond Whitehall was loaded. The third Whitehall received nineprisoners only--a catch of twenty-nine in all. 

"You didn't get the Porpoise, " the Centipede said exultantly, asthough his escape materially diminished our success. 

Charley laughed. "But we saw him just the same, a-snorting forshore like a puffing pig. "

It was a mild and shivering band of pirates that we marched up thebeach to the oyster house. In answer to Charley's knock, the doorwas flung open, and a pleasant wave of warm air rushed out upon us. 

"You can dry your clothes here, lads, and get some hot coffee, "Charley announced, as they filed in. 

And there, sitting ruefully by the fire, with a steaming mug in hishand, was the Porpoise. With one accord Nicholas and I looked atCharley. He laughed gleefully. 

"That comes of imagination, " he said. "When you see a thing, you've got to see it all around, or what's the good of seeing it atall? I saw the beach, so I left a couple of constables behind tokeep an eye on it. That's all. "

THE SIEGE OF THE "LANCASHIRE QUEEN"

Possibly our most exasperating experience on the fish patrol waswhen Charley Le Grant and I laid a two weeks' siege to a big four-masted English ship. Before we had finished with the affair, itbecame a pretty mathematical problem, and it was by the merestchance that we came into possession of the instrument that broughtit to a successful termination. 

After our raid on the oyster pirates we had returned to Oakland, where two more weeks passed before Neil Partington's wife was outof danger and on the highroad to recovery. So it was after anabsence of a month, all told, that we turned the Reindeer's nosetoward Benicia. When the cat's away the mice will play, and inthese four weeks the fishermen had become very bold in violatingthe law. When we passed Point Pedro we noticed many signs ofactivity among the shrimp-catchers, and, well into San Pablo Bay, we observed a widely scattered fleet of Upper Bay fishing-boatshastily pulling in their nets and getting up sail. 

This was suspicious enough to warrant investigation, and the firstand only boat we succeeded in boarding proved to have an illegalnet. The law permitted no smaller mesh for catching shad than onethat measured seven and one-half inches inside the knots, while themesh of this particular net measured only three inches. It was aflagrant breach of the rules, and the two fishermen were forthwithput under arrest. Neil Partington took one of them with him tohelp manage the Reindeer, while Charley and I went on ahead withthe other in the captured boat. 

But the shad fleet had headed over toward the Petaluma shore inwild flight, and for the rest of the run through San Pablo Bay wesaw no more fishermen at all. Our prisoner, a bronzed and beardedGreek, sat sullenly on his net while we sailed his craft. It was anew Columbia River salmon boat, evidently on its first trip, and ithandled splendidly. Even when Charley praised it, our prisonerrefused to speak or to notice us, and we soon gave him up as a mostunsociable fellow. 

We ran up the Carquinez Straits and edged into the bight atTurner's Shipyard for smoother water. Here were lying severalEnglish steel sailing ships, waiting for the wheat harvest; andhere, most unexpectedly, in the precise place where we had capturedBig Alec, we came upon two Italians in a skiff that was loaded witha complete "Chinese" sturgeon line. The surprise was mutual, andwe 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 Ihastened to lower our big spritsail. This accomplished, the salmonboat dropped astern, dragging heavily on the skiff. 

Charley came forward to board the prize, but when I proceeded tohaul alongside by means of the line, the Italians cast it off. Weat once began drifting to leeward, while they got out two pairs ofoars and rowed their light craft directly into the wind. Thismanoeuvre for the moment disconcerted us, for in our large andheavily loaded boat we could not hope to catch them with the oars. But our prisoner came unexpectedly to our aid. His black eyes wereflashing eagerly, and his face was flushed with suppressedexcitement, as he dropped the centre-board, sprang forward with asingle leap, and put up the sail. 

"I've always heard that Greeks don't like Italians, " Charleylaughed, as he ran aft to the tiller. 

And never in my experience have I seen a man so anxious for thecapture of another as was our prisoner in the chase that followed. His eyes fairly snapped, and his nostrils quivered and dilated in amost extraordinary way. Charley steered while he tended the sheet;and though Charley was as quick and alert as a cat, the Greek couldhardly control his impatience. 

The Italians were cut off from the shore, which was fully a mileaway at its nearest point. Did they attempt to make it, we couldhaul after them with the wind abeam, and overtake them before theyhad covered an eighth of the distance. But they were too wise toattempt it, contenting themselves with rowing lustily to windwardalong the starboard side of a big ship, the Lancashire Queen. Butbeyond the ship lay an open stretch of fully two miles to the shorein that direction. This, also, they dared not attempt, for we werebound to catch them before they could cover it. So, when theyreached the bow of the Lancashire Queen, nothing remained but topass around and row down her port side toward the stern, whichmeant rowing to leeward and giving us the advantage. 

We in the salmon boat, sailing close on the wind, tacked about andcrossed the ship's bow. Then Charley put up the tiller and headeddown the port side of the ship, the Greek letting out the sheet andgrinning with delight. The Italians were already half-way down theship's length; but the stiff breeze at our back drove us after themfar faster than they could row. Closer and closer we came, and I, lying down forward, was just reaching out to grasp the skiff, whenit ducked under the great stern of the Lancashire Queen. 

The chase was virtually where it had begun. The Italians wererowing up the starboard side of the ship, and we were hauled closeon the wind and slowly edging out from the ship as we worked towindward. Then they darted around her bow and began the row downher port side, and we tacked about, crossed her bow, and wentplunging down the wind hot after them. And again, just as I wasreaching for the skiff, it ducked under the ship's stern and out ofdanger. And so it went, around and around, the skiff each timejust barely ducking into safety. 

By this time the ship's crew had become aware of what was takingplace, and we could see their heads in a long row as they looked atus 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 theLancashire Queen to see the chase to wind-ward. They showered usand the Italians with jokes and advice, and made our Greek so angrythat at least once on each circuit he raised his fist and shook itat them in a rage. They came to look for this, and at each displaygreeted it with uproarious mirth. 

"Wot a circus!" cried one. 

"Tork about yer marine hippodromes, --if this ain't one, I'd like toknow!" affirmed another. 

"Six-days-go-as-yer-please, " announced a third. "Who says thedagoes won't win?"

On the next tack to windward the Greek offered to change placeswith Charley. 

"Let-a me sail-a de boat, " he demanded. "I fix-a them, I catch-athem, sure. "

This was a stroke at Charley's professional pride, for pridehimself he did upon his boat-sailing abilities; but he yielded thetiller to the prisoner and took his place at the sheet. Threetimes again we made the circuit, and the Greek found that he couldget no more speed out of the salmon boat than Charley had. 

"Better give it up, " one of the sailors advised from above. 

The Greek scowled ferociously and shook his fist in his customaryfashion. In the meanwhile my mind had not been idle, and I hadfinally evolved an idea. 

"Keep going, Charley, one time more, " I said. 

And as we laid out on the next tack to wind-ward, I bent a piece ofline 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, andwith the hook out of sight I waited for the next opportunity to useit. Once more they made their leeward pull down the port side ofthe Lancashire Queen, and once more we churned down after thembefore the wind. Nearer and nearer we drew, and I was makingbelieve to reach for them as before. The stern of the skiff wasnot six feet away, and they were laughing at me derisively as theyducked under the ship's stern. At that instant I suddenly aroseand threw the grappling iron. It caught fairly and squarely on therail of the skiff, which was jerked backward out of safety as therope tautened and the salmon boat ploughed on. 

A groan went up from the row of sailors above, which quicklychanged to a cheer as one of the Italians whipped out a longsheath-knife and cut the rope. But we had drawn them out ofsafety, and Charley, from his place in the stern-sheets, reachedover and clutched the stern of the skiff. The whole thing happenedin a second of time, for the first Italian was cutting the rope andCharley was clutching the skiff when the second Italian dealt him arap over the head with an oar, Charley released his hold andcollapsed, stunned, into the bottom of the salmon boat, and theItalians bent to their oars and escaped back under the ship'sstern. 

The Greek took both tiller and sheet and continued the chase aroundthe Lancashire Queen, while I attended to Charley, on whose head anasty lump was rapidly rising. Our sailor audience was wild withdelight, and to a man encouraged the fleeing Italians. Charley satup, with one hand on his head, and gazed about him sheepishly. 

"It will never do to let them escape now, " he said, at the sametime drawing his revolver. 

On our next circuit, he threatened the Italians with the weapon;but they rowed on stolidly, keeping splendid stroke and utterlydisregarding him. 

"If you don't stop, I'll shoot, " Charley said menacingly. 

But this had no effect, nor were they to be frightened intosurrendering even when he fired several shots dangerously close tothem. It was too much to expect him to shoot unarmed men, and thisthey knew as well as we did; so they continued to pull doggedlyround and round the ship. 

"We'll run them down, then!" Charley exclaimed. "We'll wear themout and wind them!"

So the chase continued. Twenty times more we ran them around theLancashire Queen, and at last we could see that even their ironmuscles were giving out. They were nearly exhausted, and it wasonly a matter of a few more circuits, when the game took on a newfeature. On the row to windward they always gained on us, so thatthey were half-way down the ship's side on the row to leeward whenwe 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 suddenlylowered. It was an organized move on the part of the sailors, evidently countenanced by the captain; for by the time we arrivedwhere the gangway had been, it was being hoisted up, and the skiff, slung in the ship's davits, was likewise flying aloft out of reach. 

The parley that followed with the captain was short and snappy. Heabsolutely forbade us to board the Lancashire Queen, and asabsolutely refused to give up the two men. By this time Charleywas as enraged as the Greek. Not only had he been foiled in a longand ridiculous chase, but he had been knocked senseless into thebottom of his boat by the men who had escaped him. 

"Knock off my head with little apples, " he declared emphatically, striking the fist of one hand into the palm of the other, "if thosetwo men ever escape me! I'll stay here to get them if it takes therest of my natural life, and if I don't get them, then I promiseyou I'll live unnaturally long or until I do get them, or my name'snot Charley Le Grant!"

And then began the siege of the Lancashire Queen, a siege memorablein the annals of both fishermen and fish patrol. When the Reindeercame along, after a fruitless pursuit of the shad fleet, Charleyinstructed Neil Partington to send out his own salmon boat, withblankets, provisions, and a fisherman's charcoal stove. By sunsetthis 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 ownviolation of the law. After supper, Charley and I kept alternatefour-hour watches till day-light. The fishermen made no attempt toescape that night, though the ship sent out a boat for scoutingpurposes to find if the coast were clear. 

By the next day we saw that a steady siege was in order, and weperfected our plans with an eye to our own comfort. A dock, knownas the Solano Wharf, which ran out from the Benicia shore, helpedus in this. It happened that the Lancashire Queen, the shore atTurner's Shipyard, and the Solano Wharf were the corners of a bigequilateral triangle. From ship to shore, the side of the trianglealong which the Italians had to escape, was a distance equal tothat from the Solano Wharf to the shore, the side of the trianglealong which we had to travel to get to the shore before theItalians. But as we could sail much faster than they could row, wecould permit them to travel about half their side of the trianglebefore we darted out along our side. If we allowed them to getmore than half-way, they were certain to beat us to shore; while ifwe started before they were half-way, they were equally certain tobeat us back to the ship. 

We found that an imaginary line, drawn from the end of the wharf toa windmill farther along the shore, cut precisely in half the lineof the triangle along which the Italians must escape to reach theland. This line made it easy for us to determine how far to letthem run away before we bestirred ourselves in pursuit. Day afterday we would watch them through our glasses as they rowed leisurelyalong toward the half-way point; and as they drew close into linewith the windmill, we would leap into the boat and get up sail. Atsight of our preparation, they would turn and row slowly back tothe Lancashire Queen, secure in the knowledge that we could notovertake them. 

To guard against calms--when our salmon boat would be useless--wealso had in readiness a light rowing skiff equipped with spoon-oars. But at such times, when the wind failed us, we were forcedto row out from the wharf as soon as they rowed from the ship. Inthe night-time, on the other hand, we were compelled to patrol theimmediate vicinity of the ship; which we did, Charley and Istanding four-hour watches turn and turn about. The Italians, however, preferred the daytime in which to escape, and so our longnight vigils were without result. 

"What makes me mad, " said Charley, "is our being kept from ourhonest beds while those rascally lawbreakers are sleeping soundlyevery night. But much good may it do them, " he threatened. "I'llkeep them on that ship till the captain charges them board, as sureas a sturgeon's not a catfish!"

It was a tantalizing problem that confronted us. As long as wewere vigilant, they could not escape; and as long as they werecareful, we would be unable to catch them. Charley cudgelled hisbrains continually, but for once his imagination failed him. Itwas a problem apparently without other solution than that ofpatience. It was a waiting game, and whichever waited the longerwas bound to win. To add to our irritation, friends of theItalians established a code of signals with them from the shore, sothat we never dared relax the siege for a moment. And besidesthis, there were always one or two suspicious-looking fishermenhanging around the Solano Wharf and keeping watch on our actions. We could do nothing but "grin and bear it, " as Charley said, whileit took up all our time and prevented us from doing other work. 

The days went by, and there was no change in the situation. Notthat no attempts were made to change it. One night friends fromthe shore came out in a skiff and attempted to confuse us while thetwo Italians escaped. That they did not succeed was due to thelack of a little oil on the ship's davits. For we were drawn backfrom the pursuit of the strange boat by the creaking of the davits, and arrived at the Lancashire Queen just as the Italians werelowering their skiff. Another night, fully half a dozen skiffsrowed around us in the darkness, but we held on like a leech to theside of the ship and frustrated their plan till they grew angry andshowered us with abuse. Charley laughed to himself in the bottomof the boat. 

"It's a good sign, lad, " he said to me. "When men begin to abuse, make sure they're losing patience; and shortly after they losepatience, they lose their heads. Mark my words, if we only holdout, they'll get careless some fine day, and then we'll get them. "

But they did not grow careless, and Charley confessed that this wasone of the times when all signs failed. Their patience seemedequal to ours, and the second week of the siege draggedmonotonously along. Then Charley's lagging imagination quickenedsufficiently to suggest a ruse. Peter Boyelen, a new patrolman andone unknown to the fisher-folk, happened to arrive in Benicia andwe took him into our plan. We were as secret as possible about it, but in some unfathomable way the friends ashore got word to thebeleaguered Italians to keep their eyes open. 

On the night we were to put our ruse into effect, Charley and Itook up our usual station in our rowing skiff alongside theLancashire Queen. After it was thoroughly dark, Peter Boyelen cameout in a crazy duck boat, the kind you can pick up and carry awayunder one arm. When we heard him coming along, paddling noisily, we slipped away a short distance into the darkness, and rested onour oars. Opposite the gangway, having jovially hailed the anchor-watch of the Lancashire Queen and asked the direction of theScottish Chiefs, another wheat ship, he awkwardly capsized himself. The man who was standing the anchor-watch ran down the gangway andhauled him out of the water. This was what he wanted, to getaboard the ship; and the next thing he expected was to be taken ondeck and then below to warm up and dry out. But the captaininhospitably kept him perched on the lowest gang-way step, shivering miserably and with his feet dangling in the water, tillwe, out of very pity, rowed in from the darkness and took him off. The jokes and gibes of the awakened crew sounded anything but sweetin our ears, and even the two Italians climbed up on the rail andlaughed down at us long and maliciously. 

"That's all right, " Charley said in a low voice, which I only couldhear. "I'm mighty glad it's not us that's laughing first. We'llsave our laugh to the end, eh, lad?"

He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he finished, but it seemed tome that there was more determination than hope in his voice. 

It would have been possible for us to secure the aid of UnitedStates marshals and board the English ship, backed by Governmentauthority. But the instructions of the Fish Commission were to theeffect that the patrolmen should avoid complications, and this one, did we call on the higher powers, might well end in a prettyinternational tangle. 

The second week of the siege drew to its close, and there was nosign of change in the situation. On the morning of the fourteenthday the change came, and it came in a guise as unexpected andstartling to us as it was to the men we were striving to capture. 

Charley and I, after our customary night vigil by the side of theLancashire Queen, rowed into the Solana Wharf. 

"Hello!" cried Charley, in surprise. "In the name of reason andcommon sense, what is that? Of all unmannerly craft did you eversee the like?"

Well might he exclaim, for there, tied up to the dock, lay thestrangest looking launch I had ever seen. Not that it could becalled a launch, either, but it seemed to resemble a launch morethan any other kind of boat. It was seventy feet long, but sonarrow was it, and so bare of superstructure, that it appeared muchsmaller than it really was. It was built wholly of steel, and waspainted black. Three smokestacks, a good distance apart and rakingwell aft, arose in single file amidships; while the bow, long andlean and sharp as a knife, plainly advertised that the boat wasmade for speed. Passing under the stern, we read Streak, paintedin small white letters. 

Charley and I were consumed with curiosity. In a few minutes wewere on board and talking with an engineer who was watching thesunrise from the deck. He was quite willing to satisfy ourcuriosity, and in a few minutes we learned that the Streak had comein after dark from San Francisco; that this was what might becalled the trial trip; and that she was the property of Silas Tate, a young mining millionaire of California, whose fad was high-speedyachts. There was some talk about turbine engines, directapplication of steam, and the absence of pistons, rods, andcranks, --all of which was beyond me, for I was familiar only withsailing craft; but I did understand the last words of the engineer. 

"Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour, though youwouldn't think it, " he concluded proudly. 

"Say it again, man! Say it again!" Charley exclaimed in an excitedvoice. 

"Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour, " theengineer repeated, grinning good-naturedly. 

"Where's the owner?" was Charley's next question. "Is there anyway I can speak to him?"

The engineer shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. He's asleep, you see. "

At that moment a young man in blue uniform came on deck farther aftand stood regarding the sunrise. 

"There he is, that's him, that's Mr. Tate, " said the engineer. 

Charley walked aft and spoke to him, and while he talked earnestlythe young man listened with an amused expression on his face. Hemust have inquired about the depth of water close in to the shoreat Turner's Shipyard, for I could see Charley making gestures andexplaining. A few minutes later he came back in high glee. 

"Come on lad, " he said. "On to the dock with you. We've gotthem!"

It was our good fortune to leave the Streak when we did, for alittle later one of the spy fishermen appeared. Charley and I tookup our accustomed places, on the stringer-piece, a little ahead ofthe Streak and over our own boat, where we could comfortably watchthe Lancashire Queen. Nothing occurred till about nine o'clock, when we saw the two Italians leave the ship and pull along theirside of the triangle toward the shore. Charley looked asunconcerned as could be, but before they had covered a quarter ofthe distance, he whispered to me:

"Forty-five miles an hour . . . Nothing can save them . . . Theyare ours!"

Slowly the two men rowed along till they were nearly in line withthe windmill. This was the point where we always jumped into oursalmon boat and got up the sail, and the two men, evidentlyexpecting it, seemed surprised when we gave no sign. 

When they were directly in line with the windmill, as near to theshore as to the ship, and nearer the shore than we had ever allowedthem before, they grew suspicious. We followed them through theglasses, and saw them standing up in the skiff and trying to findout what we were doing. The spy fisherman, sitting beside us onthe stringer-piece was likewise puzzled. He could not understandour inactivity. The men in the skiff rowed nearer the shore, butstood up again and scanned it, as if they thought we might be inhiding there. But a man came out on the beach and waved ahandkerchief to indicate that the coast was clear. That settledthem. They bent to the oars to make a dash for it. Still Charleywaited. Not until they had covered three-quarters of the distancefrom the Lancashire Queen, which left them hardly more than aquarter of a mile to gain the shore, did Charley slap me on theshoulder and cry:

"They're ours! They're ours!"

We ran the few steps to the side of the Streak and jumped aboard. Stern and bow lines were cast off in a jiffy. The Streak shotahead and away from the wharf. The spy fisherman we had leftbehind on the stringer-piece pulled out a revolver and fired fiveshots into the air in rapid succession. The men in the skiff gaveinstant heed to the warning, for we could see them pulling awaylike mad. 

But if they pulled like mad, I wonder how our progress can bedescribed? We fairly flew. So frightful was the speed with whichwe displaced the water, that a wave rose up on either side our bowand foamed aft in a series of three stiff, up-standing waves, whileastern a great crested billow pursued us hungrily, as though ateach moment it would fall aboard and destroy us. The Streak waspulsing and vibrating and roaring like a thing alive. The wind ofour progress was like a gale--a forty-five-mile gale. We could notface it and draw breath without choking and strangling. It blewthe smoke straight back from the mouths of the smoke-stacks at adirect right angle to the perpendicular. In fact, we weretravelling as fast as an express train. "We just STREAKED it, " wasthe way Charley told it afterward, and I think his descriptioncomes nearer than any I can give. 

As for the Italians in the skiff--hardly had we started, it seemedto me, when we were on top of them. Naturally, we had to slow downlong before we got to them; but even then we shot past like awhirlwind and were compelled to circle back between them and theshore. They had rowed steadily, rising from the thwarts at everystroke, up to the moment we passed them, when they recognizedCharley and me. That took the last bit of fight out of them. Theyhauled in their oars, and sullenly submitted to arrest. 

"Well, Charley, " Neil Partington said, as we discussed it on thewharf afterward, "I fail to see where your boasted imagination cameinto play this time. "

But Charley was true to his hobby. "Imagination?" he demanded, pointing to the Streak. "Look at that! just look at it! If theinvention of that isn't imagination, I should like to know whatis. "

"Of course, " he added, "it's the other fellow's imagination, but itdid the work all the same. "

CHARLEY'S COUP

Perhaps our most laughable exploit on the fish patrol, and at thesame time our most dangerous one, was when we rounded in, at asingle haul, an even score of wrathful fishermen. Charley calledit a "coop, " having heard Neil Partington use the term; but I thinkhe misunderstood the word, and thought it meant "coop, " to catch, to trap. The fishermen, however, coup or coop, must have called ita Waterloo, for it was the severest stroke ever dealt them by thefish patrol, while they had invited it by open and impudentdefiance of the law. 

During what is called the "open season" the fishermen might catchas many salmon as their luck allowed and their boats could hold. But there was one important restriction. From sun-down Saturdaynight to sun-up Monday morning, they were not permitted to set anet. This was a wise provision on the part of the Fish Commission, for it was necessary to give the spawning salmon some opportunityto ascend the river and lay their eggs. And this law, with only anoccasional violation, had been obediently observed by the Greekfishermen who caught salmon for the canneries and the market. 

One Sunday morning, Charley received a telephone call from a friendin Collinsville, who told him that the full force of fishermen wasout with its nets. Charley and I jumped into our salmon boat andstarted for the scene of the trouble. With a light favoring windat our back we went through the Carquinez Straits, crossed SuisunBay, passed the Ship Island Light, and came upon the whole fleet atwork. 

But first let me describe the method by which they worked. The netused is what is known as a gill-net. It has a simple diamond-shaped mesh which measures at least seven and one-half inchesbetween the knots. From five to seven and even eight hundred feetin length, these nets are only a few feet wide. They are notstationary, but float with the current, the upper edge supported onthe surface by floats, the lower edge sunk by means of leadenweights, This arrangement keeps the net upright in the current andeffectually prevents all but the smaller fish from ascending theriver. The salmon, swimming near the surface, as is their custom, run their heads through these meshes, and are prevented from goingon through by their larger girth of body, and from going backbecause of their gills, which catch in the mesh. It requires twofishermen 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 allout, stretching directly across the stream, the men make their boatfast to one end of the net and drift along with it. 

As we came upon the fleet of law-breaking fishermen, each boat twoor three hundred yards from its neighbors, and boats and netsdotting the river as far as we could see, Charley said:

"I've only one regret, lad, and that is that I have'nt a thousandarms so as to be able to catch them all. As it is, we'll only beable to catch one boat, for while we are tackling that one it willbe up nets and away with the rest. "

As we drew closer, we observed none of the usual flurry andexcitement which our appearance invariably produced. Instead, eachboat lay quietly by its net, while the fishermen favored us withnot the slightest attention. 

"It's curious, " Charley muttered. "Can it be they don't recognizeus?"

I said that it was impossible, and Charley agreed; yet there was awhole fleet, manned by men who knew us only too well, and who tookno more notice of us than if we were a hay scow or a pleasureyacht. 

This did not continue to be the case, however, for as we bore downupon the nearest net, the men to whom it belonged detached theirboat and rowed slowly toward the shore. The rest of the boatsshowed no, sign of uneasiness. 

"That's funny, " was Charley's remark. "But we can confiscate thenet, at any rate. "

We lowered sail, picked up one end of the net, and began to heaveit 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 arifle. The men who had rowed ashore were shooting at us. At thenext heave a second bullet went zipping past, perilously near. Charley took a turn around a pin and sat down. There were no moreshots. But as soon as he began to heave in, the shootingrecommenced. 

"That settles it, " he said, flinging the end of the net overboard. "You fellows want it worse than we do, and you can have it. "

We rowed over toward the next net, for Charley was intent onfinding out whether or not we were face to face with an organizeddefiance. As we approached, the two fishermen proceeded to castoff from their net and row ashore, while the first two rowed backand made fast to the net we had abandoned. And at the second netwe were greeted by rifle shots till we desisted and went on to thethird, where the manoeuvre was again repeated. 

Then we gave it up, completely routed, and hoisted sail and startedon the long windward beat back to Benicia. A number of Sundayswent by, on each of which the law was persistently violated. Yet, short of an armed force of soldiers, we could do nothing. Thefishermen had hit upon a new idea and were using it for all it wasworth, while there seemed no way by which we could get the betterof them. 

About this time Neil Partington happened along from the Lower Bay, where he had been for a number of weeks. With him was Nicholas, the Greek boy who had helped us in our raid on the oyster pirates, and the pair of them took a hand. We made our arrangementscarefully. It was planned that while Charley and I tackled thenets, they were to be hidden ashore so as to ambush the fishermenwho landed to shoot at us. 

It was a pretty plan. Even Charley said it was. But we reckonednot half so well as the Greeks. They forestalled us by ambushingNeil and Nicholas and taking them prisoners, while, as of old, bullets whistled about our ears when Charley and I attempted totake possession of the nets. When we were again beaten off, NeilPartington and Nicholas were released. They were rather shamefacedwhen they put in an appearance, and Charley chaffed themunmercifully. But Neil chaffed back, demanding to know whyCharley's imagination had not long since overcome the difficulty. 

"Just you wait; the idea'll come all right, " Charley promised. 

"Most probably, " Neil agreed. "But I'm afraid the salmon will beexterminated first, and then there will be no need for it when itdoes come. "

Neil Partington, highly disgusted with his adventure, departed forthe Lower Bay, taking Nicholas with him, and Charley and I wereleft to our own resources. This meant that the Sunday fishingwould be left to itself, too, until such time as Charley's ideahappened along. I puzzled my head a good deal to find out some wayof checkmating the Greeks, as also did Charley, and we broached athousand expedients which on discussion proved worthless. 

The fishermen, on the other hand, were in high feather, and theirboasts went up and down the river to add to our discomfiture. Among all classes of them we became aware of a growinginsubordination. We were beaten, and they were losing respect forus. With the loss of respect, contempt began to arise. Charleybegan to be spoken of as the "olda woman, " and I received my ratingas the "pee-wee kid. " The situation was fast becoming unbearable, and we knew that we should have to deliver a stunning stroke at theGreeks in order to regain the old-time respect in which we hadstood. 

Then one morning the idea came. We were down on Steamboat Wharf, where the river steamers made their landings, and where we found agroup of amused long-shoremen and loafers listening to the hard-luck tale of a sleepy-eyed young fellow in long sea-boots. He wasa sort of amateur fisherman, he said, fishing for the local marketof 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 tosleep in the bottom of the boat. 

The next he knew it was morning, and he opened his eyes to find hisboat rubbing softly against the piles of Steamboat Wharf atBenicia. Also he saw the river steamer Apache lying ahead of him, and a couple of deck-hands disentangling the shreds of his net fromthe paddle-wheel. In short, after he had gone to sleep, hisfisherman's riding light had gone out, and the Apache had run overhis net. Though torn pretty well to pieces, the net in some waystill remained foul, and he had had a thirty-mile tow out of hiscourse. 

Charley nudged me with his elbow. I grasped his thought on theinstant, but objected:

"We can't charter a steamboat. "

"Don't intend to, " he rejoined. "But let's run over to Turner'sShipyard. I've something in my mind there that may be of use tous. "

And over we went to the shipyard, where Charley led the way to theMary Rebecca, lying hauled out on the ways, where she was beingcleaned and overhauled. She was a scow-schooner we both knew well, carrying a cargo of one hundred and forty tons and a spread ofcanvas greater than other schooner on the bay. 

"How d'ye do, Ole, " Charley greeted a big blue-shirted Swede whowas greasing the jaws of the main gaff with a piece of pork rind. 

Ole grunted, puffed away at his pipe, and went on greasing. Thecaptain of a bay schooner is supposed to work with his hands justas well as the men. 

Ole Ericsen verified Charley's conjecture that the Mary Rebecca, assoon as launched, would run up the San Joaquin River nearly toStockton for a load of wheat. Then Charley made his proposition, and Ole Ericsen shook his head. 

"Just a hook, one good-sized hook, " Charley pleaded. 

"No, Ay tank not, " said Ole Ericsen. "Der Mary Rebecca yust hangup on efery mud-bank with that hook. Ay don't want to lose derMary Rebecca. She's all Ay got. "

"No, no, " Charley hurried to explain. "We can put the end of thehook through the bottom from the outside, and fasten it on theinside with a nut. After it's done its work, why, all we have todo is to go down into the hold, unscrew the nut, and out drops thehook. Then drive a wooden peg into the hole, and the Mary Rebeccawill be all right again. "

Ole Ericsen was obstinate for a long time; but in the end, after wehad had dinner with him, he was brought round to consent. 

"Ay do it, by Yupiter!" he said, striking one huge fist into thepalm of the other hand. "But yust hurry you up wid der hook. DerMary Rebecca slides into der water to-night. "

It was Saturday, and Charley had need to hurry. We headed for theshipyard blacksmith shop, where, under Charley's directions, a mostgenerously curved book of heavy steel was made. Back we hastenedto the Mary Rebecca. Aft of the great centre-board case, throughwhat was properly her keel, a hole was bored. The end of the hookwas inserted from the outside, and Charley, on the inside, screwedthe nut on tightly. As it stood complete, the hook projected overa foot beneath the bottom of the schooner. Its curve was somethinglike the curve of a sickle, but deeper. 

In the late afternoon the Mary Rebecca was launched, andpreparations 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. Theyagreed that there were all the signs of a stiff westerly wind--notthe ordinary afternoon sea-breeze, but a half-gale, which even thenwas springing up. 

Next morning found their predictions verified. The sun was shiningbrightly, but something more than a half-gale was shrieking up theCarquinez Straits, and the Mary Rebecca got under way with tworeefs in her mainsail and one in her foresail. We found it quiterough in the Straits and in Suisun Bay; but as the water grew moreland-locked it became calm, though without let-up in the wind. 

Off Ship Island Light the reefs were shaken out, and at Charley'ssuggestion a big fisherman's staysail was made all ready forhoisting, and the maintopsail, bunched into a cap at the masthead, was overhauled so that it could be set on an instant's notice. 

We were tearing along, wing-and-wing, before the wind, foresail tostarboard and mainsail to port, as we came upon the salmon fleet. There they were, boats and nets, as on that first Sunday when theyhad bested us, strung out evenly over the river as far as we couldsee. A narrow space on the right-hand side of the channel was leftclear for steamboats, but the rest of the river was covered withthe wide-stretching nets. The narrow space was our logical course, but Charley, at the wheel, steered the Mary Rebecca straight forthe nets. This did not cause any alarm among the fishermen, because up-river sailing craft are always provided with "shoes" onthe ends of their keels, which permit them to slip over the netswithout fouling them. 

"Now she takes it!" Charley cried, as we dashed across the middleof a line of floats which marked a net. At one end of this linewas a small barrel buoy, at the other the two fishermen in theirboat. Buoy and boat at once began to draw together, and thefishermen to cry out, as they were jerked after us. A couple ofminutes later we hooked a second net, and then a third, and in thisfashion we tore straight up through the centre of the fleet. 

The consternation we spread among the fishermen was tremendous. Asfast as we hooked a net the two ends of it, buoy and boat, cametogether as they dragged out astern; and so many buoys and boats, coming together at such breakneck speed, kept the fishermen on thejump to avoid smashing into one another. Also, they shouted at uslike mad to heave to into the wind, for they took it as somedrunken prank on the part of scow-sailors, little dreaming that wewere the fish patrol. 

The drag of a single net is very heavy, and Charley and Ole Ericsendecided that even in such a wind ten nets were all the Mary Rebeccacould take along with her. So when we had hooked ten nets, withten boats containing twenty men streaming along behind us, weveered to the left out of the fleet and headed toward Collinsville. 

We were all jubilant. Charley was handling the wheel as though hewere steering the winning yacht home in a race. The two sailorswho made up the crew of the Mary Rebecca, were grinning and joking. Ole Ericsen was rubbing his huge hands in child-like glee. 

"Ay tank you fish patrol fallers never ban so lucky as when yousail with Ole Ericsen, " he was saying, when a rifle cracked sharplyastern, and a bullet gouged along the newly painted cabin, glancedon a nail, and sang shrilly onward into space. 

This was too much for Ole Ericsen. At sight of his belovedpaintwork thus defaced, he jumped up and shook his fist at thefishermen; but a second bullet smashed into the cabin not sixinches from his head, and he dropped down to the deck under coverof the rail. 

All the fishermen had rifles, and they now opened a generalfusillade. We were all driven to cover--even Charley, who wascompelled to desert the wheel. Had it not been for the heavy dragof the nets, we would inevitably have broached to at the mercy ofthe enraged fishermen. But the nets, fastened to the bottom of theMary Rebecca well aft, held her stern into the wind, and shecontinued to plough on, though somewhat erratically. 

Charley, lying on the deck, could just manage to reach the lowerspokes of the wheel; but while he could steer after a fashion, itwas very awkward. Ole Ericsen bethought himself of a large pieceof sheet steel in the empty hold. 

It was in fact a plate from the side of the New Jersey, a steamerwhich had recently been wrecked outside the Golden Gate, and in thesalving of which the Mary Rebecca had taken part. 

Crawling carefully along the deck, the two sailors, Ole, and myselfgot the heavy plate on deck and aft, where we reared it as a shieldbetween the wheel and the fishermen. The bullets whanged andbanged against it till it rang like a bull's-eye, but Charleygrinned in its shelter, and coolly went on steering. 

So we raced along, behind us a howling, screaming bedlam ofwrathful Greeks, Collinsville ahead, and bullets spat-spatting allaround us. 

"Ole, " Charley said in a faint voice, "I don't know what we'regoing to do. "

Ole Ericsen, lying on his back close to the rail and grinningupward at the sky, turned over on his side and looked at him. "Aytank we go into Collinsville yust der same, " he said. 

"But we can't stop, " Charley groaned. "I never thought of it, butwe can't stop. "

A look of consternation slowly overspread Ole Ericsen's broad face. It was only too true. We had a hornet's nest on our hands, and tostop at Collinsville would be to have it about our ears. 

"Every man Jack of them has a gun, " one of the sailors remarkedcheerfully. 

"Yes, and a knife, too, " the other sailor added. 

It was Ole Ericsen's turn to groan. "What for a Svaidish fallerlike me monkey with none of my biziness, I don't know, " hesoliloquized. 

A bullet glanced on the stern and sang off to starboard like aspiteful bee. "There's nothing to do but plump the Mary Rebeccaashore and run for it, " was the verdict of the first cheerfulsailor. 

"And leaf der Mary Rebecca?" Ole demanded, with unspeakable horrorin his voice. 

"Not unless you want to, " was the response. "But I don't want tobe within a thousand miles of her when those fellers come aboard"--indicating the bedlam of excited Greeks towing behind. 

We were right in at Collinsville then, and went foaming by withinbiscuit-toss of the wharf. 

"I only hope the wind holds out, " Charley said, stealing a glanceat our prisoners. 

"What of der wind?" Ole demanded disconsolately. "Der river willnot hold out, and then . . . And then . . . "

"It's head for tall timber, and the Greeks take the hindermost, "adjudged the cheerful sailor, while Ole was stuttering over whatwould happen when we came to the end of the river. 

We had now reached a dividing of the ways. To the left was themouth of the Sacramento River, to the right the mouth of the SanJoaquin. The cheerful sailor crept forward and jibed over theforesail as Charley put the helm to starboard and we swerved to theright into the San Joaquin. The wind, from which we had beenrunning away on an even keel, now caught us on our beam, and theMary Rebecca was pressed down on her port side as if she were aboutto capsize. 

Still we dashed on, and still the fishermen dashed on behind. Thevalue of their nets was greater than the fines they would have topay for violating the fish laws; so to cast off from their nets andescape, which they could easily do, would profit them nothing. Further, they remained by their nets instinctively, as a sailorremains by his ship. And still further, the desire for vengeancewas roused, and we could depend upon it that they would follow usto the ends of the earth, if we undertook to tow them that far. 

The rifle-firing had ceased, and we looked astern to see what ourprisoners were doing. The boats were strung along at unequaldistances apart, and we saw the four nearest ones bunchingtogether. This was done by the boat ahead trailing a small ropeastern to the one behind. When this was caught, they would castoff from their net and heave in on the line till they were broughtup to the boat in front. So great was the speed at which we weretravelling, however, that this was very slow work. Sometimes themen would strain to their utmost and fail to get in an inch of therope; at other times they came ahead more rapidly. 

When the four boats were near enough together for a man to passfrom one to another, one Greek from each of three got into thenearest boat to us, taking his rifle with him. This made five inthe foremost boat, and it was plain that their intention was toboard us. This they undertook to do, by main strength and sweat, running hand over hand the float-line of a net. And though it wasslow, and they stopped frequently to rest, they gradually drewnearer. 

Charley smiled at their efforts, and said, "Give her the topsail, Ole. "

The cap at the mainmast head was broken out, and sheet and downhaulpulled flat, amid a scattering rifle fire from the boats; and theMary Rebecca lay over and sprang ahead faster than ever. 

But the Greeks were undaunted. Unable, at the increased speed, todraw themselves nearer by means of their hands, they rigged fromthe 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 thebow and make the tackle fast to the float-line. Then they wouldheave in on the tackle till the blocks were together, when themanoeuvre would be repeated. 

"Have to give her the staysail, " Charley said. 

Ole Ericsen looked at the straining Mary Rebecca and shook hishead. "It will take der masts out of her, " he said. 

"And we'll be taken out of her if you don't, " Charley replied. 

Ole shot an anxious glance at his masts, another at the boat loadof armed Greeks, and consented. 

The five men were in the bow of the boat--a bad place when a craftis towing. I was watching the behavior of their boat as the greatfisherman's staysail, far, far larger than the top-sail and usedonly in light breezes, was broken out. As the Mary Rebecca lurchedforward with a tremendous jerk, the nose of the boat ducked downinto the water, and the men tumbled over one another in a wild rushinto the stern to save the boat from being dragged sheer underwater. 

"That settles them!" Charley remarked, though he was anxiouslystudying the behavior of the Mary Rebecca, which was being drivenunder far more canvas than she was rightly able to carry. 

"Next stop is Antioch!" announced the cheerful sailor, after themanner of a railway conductor. "And next comes Merryweather!"

"Come here, quick, " Charley said to me. 

I crawled across the deck and stood upright beside him in theshelter of the sheet steel. 

"Feel in my inside pocket, " he commanded, "and get my notebook. That's right. Tear out a blank page and write what I tell you. "

And this is what I wrote:

Telephone to Merryweather, to the sheriff, the constable, or thejudge. Tell them we are coming and to turn out the town. Armeverybody. Have them down on the wharf to meet us or we are gonegooses. 

"Now make it good and fast to that marlin-spike, and stand by totoss it ashore. "

I did as he directed. By then we were close to Antioch. The windwas shouting through our rigging, the Mary Rebecca was half over onher side and rushing ahead like an ocean greyhound. The seafaringfolk of Antioch had seen us breaking out topsail and staysail, amost reckless performance in such weather, and had hurried to thewharf-ends in little groups to find out what was the matter. 

Straight down the water front we boomed, Charley edging in till aman could almost leap ashore. When he gave the signal I tossed themarlinspike. It struck the planking of the wharf a resoundingsmash, bounced along fifteen or twenty feet, and was pounced uponby the amazed onlookers. 

It all happened in a flash, for the next minute Antioch was behindand we were heeling it up the San Joaquin toward Merryweather, sixmiles away. The river straightened out here into its generaleasterly course, and we squared away before the wind, wing-and-wingonce more, the foresail bellying out to starboard. 

Ole Ericsen seemed sunk into a state of stolid despair. Charleyand the two sailors were looking hopeful, as they had good reasonto be. Merryweather was a coal-mining town, and, it being Sunday, it was reasonable to expect the men to be in town. Further, thecoal-miners had never lost any love for the Greek fishermen, andwere pretty certain to render us hearty assistance. 

We strained our eyes for a glimpse of the town, and the first sightwe caught of it gave us immense relief. The wharves were blackwith 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 inhis eye which till then had been missing. The Greeks were plainlyoverawed by the display of armed strength and were putting theirown rifles away. 

We took in topsail and staysail, dropped the main peak, and as wegot abreast of the principal wharf jibed the mainsail. The MaryRebecca shot around into the wind, the captive fishermen describinga great arc behind her, and forged ahead till she lost way, whenlines we're flung ashore and she was made fast. This wasaccomplished under a hurricane of cheers from the delighted miners. 

Ole Ericsen heaved a great sigh. "Ay never tank Ay see my wifenever again, " he confessed. 

"Why, we were never in any danger, " said Charley. 

Ole looked at him incredulously. 

"Sure, I mean it, " Charley went on. "All we had to do, any time, was to let go our end--as I am going to do now, so that thoseGreeks can untangle their nets. "

He went below with a monkey-wrench, unscrewed the nut, and let thehook drop off. When the Greeks had hauled their nets into theirboats and made everything shipshape, a posse of citizens took themoff our hands and led them away to jail. 

"Ay tank Ay ban a great big fool, " said Ole Ericsen. But hechanged his mind when the admiring townspeople crowded aboard toshake hands with him, and a couple of enterprising newspaper mentook photographs of the Mary Rebecca and her captain. 

DEMETRIOS CONTOS

It must not be thought, from what I have told of the Greekfishermen, that they were altogether bad. Far from it. But theywere rough men, gathered together in isolated communities andfighting with the elements for a livelihood. They lived far awayfrom the law and its workings, did not understand it, and thoughtit tyranny. Especially did the fish laws seem tyrannical. Andbecause of this, they looked upon the men of the fish patrol astheir natural enemies. 

We menaced their lives, or their living, which is the same thing, in many ways. We confiscated illegal traps and nets, the materialsof which had cost them considerable sums and the making of whichrequired weeks of labor. We prevented them from catching fish atmany times and seasons, which was equivalent to preventing themfrom making as good a living as they might have made had we notbeen in existence. And when we captured them, they were broughtinto the courts of law, where heavy cash fines were collected fromthem. As a result, they hated us vindictively. As the dog is thenatural enemy of the cat, the snake of man, so were we of the fishpatrol the natural enemies of the fishermen. 

But it is to show that they could act generously as well as hatebitterly that this story of Demetrios Contos is told. DemetriosContos lived in Vallejo. Next to Big Alec, he was the largest, bravest, and most influential man among the Greeks. He had givenus no trouble, and I doubt if he would ever have clashed with ushad he not invested in a new salmon boat. This boat was the causeof all the trouble. He had had it built upon his own model, inwhich the lines of the general salmon boat were somewhat modified. 

To his high elation he found his new boat very fast--in fact, faster than any other boat on the bay or rivers. Forthwith he grewproud and boastful: and, our raid with the Mary Rebecca on theSunday salmon fishers having wrought fear in their hearts, he senta challenge up to Benicia. One of the local fishermen conveyed itto us; it was to the effect that Demetrios Contos would sail upfrom Vallejo on the following Sunday, and in the plain sight ofBenicia set his net and catch salmon, and that Charley Le Grant, patrolman, might come and get him if he could. Of course Charleyand I had heard nothing of the new boat. Our own boat was prettyfast, and we were not afraid to have a brush with any other thathappened along. 

Sunday came. The challenge had been bruited abroad, and thefishermen and seafaring folk of Benicia turned out to a man, crowding Steamboat Wharf till it looked like the grand stand at afootball match. Charley and I had been sceptical, but the fact ofthe crowd convinced us that there was something in DemetriosContos's dare. 

In the afternoon, when the sea-breeze had picked up in strength, his sail hove into view as he bowled along before the wind. Hetacked a score of feet from the wharf, waved his hand theatrically, like a knight about to enter the lists, received a hearty cheer inreturn, and stood away into the Straits for a couple of hundredyards. Then he lowered sail, and, drifting the boat sidewise bymeans of the wind, proceeded to set his net. He did not set muchof it, possibly fifty feet; yet Charley and I were thunderstruck atthe man's effrontery. We did not know at the time, but we learnedafterward, that the net he used was old and worthless. It COULDcatch fish, true; but a catch of any size would have torn it topieces. 

Charley shook his head and said:

"I confess, it puzzles me. What if he has out only fifty feet? Hecould never get it in if we once started for him. And why does hecome here anyway, flaunting his law-breaking in our faces? Rightin our home town, too. "

Charley's voice took on an aggrieved tone, and he continued forsome minutes to inveigh against the brazenness of Demetrios Contos. 

In the meantime, the man in question was lolling in the stern ofhis boat and watching the net floats. When a large fish is meshedin a gill-net, the floats by their agitation advertise the fact. And they evidently advertised it to Demetrios, for he pulled inabout a dozen feet of net, and held aloft for a moment, before heflung it into the bottom of the boat, a big, glistening salmon. Itwas greeted by the audience on the wharf with round after round ofcheers. This was more than Charley could stand. 

"Come on, lad, " he called to me; and we lost no time jumping intoour salmon boat and getting up sail. 

The crowd shouted warning to Demetrios, and as we darted out fromthe wharf we saw him slash his worthless net clear with a longknife. His sail was all ready to go up, and a moment later itfluttered in the sunshine. He ran aft, drew in the sheet, andfilled on the long tack toward the Contra Costa Hills. 

By this time we were not more than thirty feet astern. Charley wasjubilant. He knew our boat was fast, and he knew, further, that infine sailing few men were his equals. He was confident that weshould surely catch Demetrios, and I shared his confidence. Butsomehow we did not seem to gain. 

It was a pretty sailing breeze. We were gliding sleekly throughthe water, but Demetrios was slowly sliding away from us. And notonly was he going faster, but he was eating into the wind afraction of a point closer than we. This was sharply impressedupon us when he went about under the Contra Costa Hills and passedus on the other tack fully one hundred feet dead to windward. 

"Whew!" Charley exclaimed. "Either that boat is a daisy, or we'vegot a five-gallon coal-oil can fast to our keel!"

It certainly looked it one way or the other. And by the timeDemetrios made the Sonoma Hills, on the other side of the Straits, we were so hopelessly outdistanced that Charley told me to slackoff the sheet, and we squared away for Benicia. The fishermen onSteamboat Wharf showered us with ridicule when we returned and tiedup. Charley and I got out and walked away, feeling rathersheepish, for it is a sore stroke to one's pride when he thinks hehas a good boat and knows how to sail it, and another man comesalong and beats him. 

Charley mooned over it for a couple of days; then word was broughtto us, as before, that on the next Sunday Demetrios Contos wouldrepeat his performance. Charley roused himself. He had our boatout of the water, cleaned and repainted its bottom, made a triflingalteration about the centre-board, overhauled the running gear, andsat up nearly all of Saturday night sewing on a new and much largersail. So large did he make it, in fact, that additional ballastwas imperative, and we stowed away nearly five hundred extra poundsof old railroad iron in the bottom of the boat. 

Sunday came, and with it came Demetrios Contos, to break the lawdefiantly in open day. Again we had the afternoon sea-breeze, andagain Demetrios cut loose some forty or more feet of his rottennet, and got up sail and under way under our very noses. But hehad anticipated Charley's move, and his own sail peaked higher thanever, while a whole extra cloth had been added to the after leech. 

It was nip and tuck across to the Contra Costa Hills, neither of usseeming to gain or to lose. But by the time we had made the returntack to the Sonoma Hills, we could see that, while we footed it atabout equal speed, Demetrios had eaten into the wind the least bitmore than we. Yet Charley was sailing our boat as finely anddelicately as it was possible to sail it, and getting more out ofit than he ever had before. 

Of course, he could have drawn his revolver and fired at Demetrios;but we had long since found it contrary to our natures to shoot ata fleeing man guilty of only a petty offence. Also a sort of tacitagreement seemed to have been reached between the patrolmen and thefishermen. If we did not shoot while they ran away, they, in turn, did not fight if we once laid hands on them. Thus Demetrios Contosran away from us, and we did no more than try our best to overtakehim; and, in turn, if our boat proved faster than his, or wassailed better, he would, we knew, make no resistance when we caughtup with him. 

With our large sails and the healthy breeze romping up theCarquinez Straits, we found that our sailing was what is called"ticklish. " We had to be constantly on the alert to avoid acapsize, and while Charley steered I held the main-sheet in my handwith but a single turn round a pin, ready to let go at any moment. Demetrios, we could see, sailing his boat alone, had his handsfull. 

But it was a vain undertaking for us to attempt to catch him. Outof his inner consciousness he had evolved a boat that was betterthan ours. And though Charley sailed fully as well, if not theleast bit better, the boat he sailed was not so good as theGreek's. 

"Slack away the sheet, " Charley commanded; and as our boat fell offbefore the wind, Demetrios's mocking laugh floated down to us. 

Charley shook his head, saying, "It's no use. Demetrios has thebetter boat. If he tries his performance again, we must meet itwith some new scheme. "

This time it was my imagination that came to the rescue. 

"What's the matter, " I suggested, on the Wednesday following, "withmy chasing Demetrios in the boat next Sunday, while you wait forhim on the wharf at Vallejo when he arrives?"

Charley considered it a moment and slapped his knee. 

"A good idea! You're beginning to use that head of yours. Acredit to your teacher, I must say. "

"But you mustn't chase him too far, " he went on, the next moment, "or he'll head out into San Pablo Bay instead of running home toVallejo, and there I'll be, standing lonely on the wharf andwaiting in vain for him to arrive. "

On Thursday Charley registered an objection to my plan. 

"Everybody'll know I've gone to Vallejo, and you can depend upon itthat Demetrios will know, too. I'm afraid we'll have to give upthe idea. "

This objection was only too valid, and for the rest of the day Istruggled under my disappointment. But that night a new way seemedto open to me, and in my eagerness I awoke Charley from a soundsleep. 

"Well, " he grunted, "what's the matter? House afire?"

"No, " I replied, "but my head is. Listen to this. On Sunday youand I will be around Benicia up to the very moment Demetrios's sailheaves into sight. This will lull everybody's suspicions. Then, when Demetrios's sail does heave in sight, do you stroll leisurelyaway and up-town. All the fishermen will think you're beaten andthat you know you're beaten. "

"So far, so good, " Charley commented, while I paused to catchbreath. 

"And very good indeed, " I continued proudly. "You strollcarelessly up-town, but when you're once out of sight you leg itfor all you're worth for Dan Maloney's. Take the little mare ofhis, and strike out on the country road for Vallejo. The road's infine condition, and you can make it in quicker time than Demetrioscan beat all the way down against the wind. "

"And I'll arrange right away for the mare, first thing in themorning, " Charley said, accepting the modified plan withouthesitation. 

"But, I say, " he said, a little later, this time waking ME out of asound sleep. 

I could hear him chuckling in the dark. 

"I say, lad, isn't it rather a novelty for the fish patrol to betaking to horseback?"

"Imagination, " I answered. "It's what you're always preaching--'keep thinking one thought ahead of the other fellow, and you'rebound to win out. '"

"He! he!" he chuckled. "And if one thought ahead, including amare, doesn't take the other fellow's breath away this time, I'mnot your humble servant, Charley Le Grant. "

"But can you manage the boat alone?" he asked, on Friday. "Remember, we've a ripping big sail on her. "

I argued my proficiency so well that he did not refer to the matteragain till Saturday, when he suggested removing one whole clothfrom the after leech. I guess it was the disappointment written onmy 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 thebig sail and go tearing down the Carquinez Straits in the wake ofthe flying Greek. 

As usual, Sunday and Demetrios Contos arrived together. It hadbecome the regular thing for the fishermen to assemble on SteamboatWharf to greet his arrival and to laugh at our discomfiture. Helowered sail a couple of hundred yards out and set his customaryfifty feet of rotten net. 

"I suppose this nonsense will keep up as long as his old net holdsout, " Charley grumbled, with intention, in the hearing of severalof the Greeks. 

"Den I give-a heem my old-a net-a, " one of them spoke up, promptlyand maliciously, "I don't care, " Charley answered. "I've got some old net myself hecan have--if he'll come around and ask for it. "

They all laughed at this, for they could afford to be sweet-tempered with a man so badly outwitted as Charley was. 

"Well, so long, lad, " Charley called to me a moment later. "Ithink I'll go up-town to Maloney's. "

"Let me take the boat out?" I asked. 

"If you want to, " was his answer, as he turned on his heel andwalked slowly away. 

Demetrios pulled two large salmon out of his net, and I jumped intothe boat. The fishermen crowded around in a spirit of fun, andwhen I started to get up sail overwhelmed me with all sorts ofjocular advice. They even offered extravagant bets to one anotherthat I would surely catch Demetrios, and two of them, stylingthemselves the committee of judges, gravely asked permission tocome along with me to see how I did it. 

But I was in no hurry. I waited to give Charley all the time Icould, and I pretended dissatisfaction with the stretch of the sailand slightly shifted the small tackle by which the huge spritforces up the peak. It was not until I was sure that Charley hadreached Dan Maloney's and was on the little mare's back, that Icast off from the wharf and gave the big sail to the wind. A stoutpuff filled it and suddenly pressed the lee gunwale down till acouple of buckets of water came inboard. A little thing like thiswill happen to the best small-boat sailors, and yet, though Iinstantly let go the sheet and righted, I was cheeredsarcastically, as though I had been guilty of a very awkwardblunder. 

When Demetrios saw only one person in the fish patrol boat, andthat one a boy, he proceeded to play with me. Making a short tackout, with me not thirty feet behind, he returned, with his sheet alittle free, to Steamboat Wharf. And there he made short tacks, and turned and twisted and ducked around, to the great delight ofhis sympathetic audience. I was right behind him all the time, andI dared to do whatever he did, even when he squared away before thewind and jibed his big sail over--a most dangerous trick with sucha sail in such a wind. 

He depended upon the brisk sea breeze and the strong ebb-tide, which together kicked up a nasty sea, to bring me to grief. But Iwas on my mettle, and never in all my life did I sail a boat betterthan on that day. I was keyed up to concert pitch, my brain wasworking smoothly and quickly, my hands never fumbled once, and itseemed that I almost divined the thousand little things which asmall-boat sailor must be taking into consideration every second. 

It was Demetrios who came to grief instead. Something went wrongwith his centre-board, so that it jammed in the case and would notgo all the way down. In a moment's breathing space, which he hadgained from me by a clever trick, I saw him working impatientlywith the centre-board, trying to force it down. I gave him littletime, and he was compelled quickly to return to the tiller andsheet. 

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 firstlong tack across, I found that I could eat into the wind just alittle bit closer than he. Here was where another man in the boatwould have been of value to him; for, with me but a few feetastern, he did not dare let go the tiller and run amidships to tryto force down the centre-board. 

Unable to hang on as close in the eye of the wind as formerly, heproceeded to slack his sheet a trifle and to ease off a bit, inorder to outfoot me. This I permitted him to do till I had workedto windward, when I bore down upon him. As I drew close, hefeinted at coming about. This led me to shoot into the wind toforestall him. But it was only a feint, cleverly executed, and heheld back to his course while I hurried to make up lost ground. 

He was undeniably smarter than I when it came to manoeuvring. Timeafter time I all but had him, and each time he tricked me andescaped. Besides, the wind was freshening, constantly, and each ofus had his hands full to avoid capsizing. As for my boat, it couldnot have been kept afloat but for the extra ballast. I sat cockedover the weather gunwale, tiller in one hand and sheet in theother; and the sheet, with a single turn around a pin, I was veryoften forced to let go in the severer puffs. This allowed the sailto spill the wind, which was equivalent to taking off so muchdriving power, and of course I lost ground. My consolation wasthat Demetrios was as often compelled to do the same thing. 

The strong ebb-tide, racing down the Straits in the teeth of thewind, caused an unusually heavy and spiteful sea, which dashedaboard continually. I was dripping wet, and even the sail was wethalf-way up the after leech. Once I did succeed in outmanoeuvringDemetrios, so that my bow bumped into him amidships. Here waswhere I should have had another man. Before I could run forwardand leap aboard, he shoved the boats apart with an oar, laughingmockingly in my face as he did so. 

We were now at the mouth of the Straits, in a bad stretch of water. Here the Vallejo Straits and the Carquinez Straits rushed directlyat each other. Through the first flowed all the water of NapaRiver and the great tide-lands; through the second flowed all thewater of Suisun Bay and the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers. Andwhere such immense bodies of water, flowing swiftly, clashedtogether, a terrible tide-rip was produced. To make it worse, thewind howled up San Pablo Bay for fifteen miles and drove in atremendous sea upon the tide-rip. 

Conflicting currents tore about in all directions, colliding, forming whirlpools, sucks, and boils, and shooting up spitefullyinto hollow waves which fell aboard as often from leeward as fromwindward. And through it all, confused, driven into a madness ofmotion, thundered the great smoking seas from San Pablo Bay. 

I was as wildly excited as the water. The boat was behavingsplendidly, leaping and lurching through the welter like a race-horse. I could hardly contain myself with the joy of it. The hugesail, the howling wind, the driving seas, the plunging boat--I, apygmy, a mere speck in the midst of it, was mastering the elementalstrife, flying through it and over it, triumphant and victorious. 

And just then, as I roared along like a conquering hero, the boatreceived a frightful smash and came instantly to a dead stop. Iwas flung forward and into the bottom. As I sprang up I caught afleeting glimpse of a greenish, barnacle-covered object, and knewit at once for what it was, that terror of navigation, a sunkenpile. No man may guard against such a thing. Water-logged andfloating just beneath the surface, it was impossible to sight it inthe troubled water in time to escape. 

The whole bow of the boat must have been crushed in, for in a fewseconds 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 anddrawn under. When I fought my way to the surface, suffocating, mylungs almost bursting, I could see nothing of the oars. They musthave been swept away by the chaotic currents. I saw DemetriosContos looking back from his boat, and heard the vindictive andmocking tones of his voice as he shouted exultantly. He heldsteadily on his course, leaving me to perish. 

There was nothing to do but to swim for it, which, in that wildconfusion, was at the best a matter of but a few moments. Holdingmy breath and working with my hands, I managed to get off my heavysea-boots and my jacket. Yet there was very little breath I couldcatch to hold, and I swiftly discovered that it was not so much amatter of swimming as of breathing. 

I was beaten and buffeted, smashed under by the great San Pablowhitecaps, and strangled by the hollow tide-rip waves which flungthemselves into my eyes, nose, and mouth. Then the strange suckswould grip my legs and drag me under, to spout me up in some fierceboiling, where, even as I tried to catch my breath, a greatwhitecap would crash down upon my head. 

It was impossible to survive any length of time. I was breathingmore water than air, and drowning all the time. My senses began toleave me, my head to whirl around. I struggled on, spasmodically, instinctively, and was barely half conscious when I felt myselfcaught by the shoulders and hauled over the gunwale of a boat. 

For some time I lay across a seat where I had been flung, facedownward, and with the water running out of my mouth. After awhile, still weak and faint, I turned around to see who was myrescuer. And there, in the stern, sheet in one hand and tiller inthe other, grinning and nodding good-naturedly, sat DemetriosContos. He had intended to leave me to drown, --he said soafterward, --but his better self had fought the battle, conquered, and sent him back to me. 

"You all-a right?" he asked. 

I managed to shape a "yes" on my lips, though I could not yetspeak. 

"You sail-a de boat verr-a good-a, " he said. "So good-a as a man. "

A compliment from Demetrios Contos was a compliment indeed, and Ikeenly appreciated it, though I could only nod my head inacknowledgment. 

We held no more conversation, for I was busy recovering and he wasbusy with the boat. He ran in to the wharf at Vallejo, made theboat fast, and helped me out. Then it was, as we both stood on thewharf, that Charley stepped out from behind a net-rack and put hishand on Demetrios Contos's arm. 

"He saved my life, Charley, " I protested; "and I don't think heought to be arrested. "

A puzzled expression came into Charley's face, which clearedimmediately after, in a way it had when he made up his mind. 

"I can't help it, lad, " he said kindly. "I can't go back on myduty, and it's plain duty to arrest him. To-day is Sunday; thereare two salmon in his boat which he caught to-day. What else can Ido?"

"But he saved my life, " I persisted, unable to make any otherargument. 

Demetrios Contos's face went black with rage when he learnedCharley's judgment. He had a sense of being unfairly treated. Thebetter part of his nature had triumphed, he had performed agenerous act and saved a helpless enemy, and in return the enemywas taking him to jail. 

Charley and I were out of sorts with each other when we went backto 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 thatno salmon should be caught on Sunday. He was a patrolman, and itwas 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 forDemetrios Contos. 

Two days later we went down to Vallejo to the trial. I had to goalong as a witness, and it was the most hateful task that I everperformed in my life when I testified on the witness stand toseeing Demetrios catch the two salmon Charley had captured himwith. 

Demetrios had engaged a lawyer, but his case was hopeless. Thejury was out only fifteen minutes, and returned a verdict ofguilty. The judge sentenced Demetrios to pay a fine of one hundreddollars or go to jail for fifty days. 

Charley stepped up to the clerk of the court. "I want to pay thatfine, " he said, at the same time placing five twenty-dollar goldpieces on the desk. "It--it was the only way out of it, lad, " hestammered, turning to me. 

The moisture rushed into my eyes as I seized his hand. "I want topay--" I began. 

"To pay your half?" he interrupted. "I certainly shall expect youto pay it. "

In the meantime Demetrios had been informed by his lawyer that hisfee likewise had been paid by Charley. 

Demetrios came over to shake Charley's hand, and all his warmSouthern blood flamed in his face. Then, not to be outdone ingenerosity, he insisted on paying his fine and lawyer's feehimself, and flew half-way into a passion because Charley refusedto let him. 

More than anything else we ever did, I think, this action ofCharley's impressed upon the fishermen the deeper significance ofthe law. Also Charley was raised high in their esteem, while Icame in for a little share of praise as a boy who knew how to saila boat. Demetrios Contos not only never broke the law again, buthe became a very good friend of ours, and on more than one occasionhe ran up to Benicia to have a gossip with us. 

YELLOW HANDKERCHIEF

"I'm not wanting to dictate to you, lad, " Charley said; "but I'mvery much against your making a last raid. You've gone safelythrough rough times with rough men, and it would be a shame to havesomething happen to you at the very end. "

"But how can I get out of making a last raid?" I demanded, with thecocksureness of youth. "There always has to be a last, you know, to anything. "

Charley crossed his legs, leaned back, and considered the problem. "Very true. But why not call the capture of Demetrios Contos thelast? You're back from it safe and sound and hearty, for all yourgood wetting, and--and--" His voice broke and he could not speakfor a moment. "And I could never forgive myself if anythinghappened to you now. "

I laughed at Charley's fears while I gave in to the claims of hisaffection, and agreed to consider the last raid already performed. We had been together for two years, and now I was leaving the fishpatrol in order to go back and finish my education. I had earnedand saved money to put me through three years at the high school, and though the beginning of the term was several months away, Iintended doing a lot of studying for the entrance examinations. 

My belongings were packed snugly in a sea-chest, and I was allready to buy my ticket and ride down on the train to Oakland, whenNeil Partington arrived in Benicia. The Reindeer was neededimmediately for work far down on the Lower Bay, and Neil said heintended to run straight for Oakland. As that was his home and asI was to live with his family while going to school, he saw noreason, he said, why I should not put my chest aboard and comealong. 

So the chest went aboard, and in the middle of the afternoon wehoisted the Reindeer's big mainsail and cast off. It wastantalizing fall weather. The sea-breeze, which had blown steadilyall summer, was gone, and in its place were capricious winds andmurky skies which made the time of arriving anywhere extremelyproblematical. We started on the first of the ebb, and as weslipped down the Carquinez Straits, I looked my last for some timeupon Benicia and the bight at Turner's Shipyard, where we hadbesieged the Lancashire Queen, and had captured Big Alec, the Kingof the Greeks. And at the mouth of the Straits I looked with not alittle interest upon the spot where a few days before I should havedrowned but for the good that was in the nature of DemetriosContos. 

A great wall of fog advanced across San Pablo Bay to meet us, andin a few minutes the Reindeer was running blindly through the dampobscurity. Charley, who was steering, seemed to have an instinctfor that kind of work. How he did it, he himself confessed that hedid not know; but he had a way of calculating winds, currents, distance, time, drift, and sailing speed that was truly marvellous. 

"It looks as though it were lifting, " Neil Partington said, acouple of hours after we had entered the fog. "Where do you say weare, Charley?"

Charley looked at his watch, "Six o'clock, and three hours more ofebb, " he remarked casually. 

"But where do you say we are?" Neil insisted. 

Charley pondered a moment, and then answered, "The tide has edgedus over a bit out of our course, but if the fog lifts right now, asit is going to lift, you'll find we're not more than a thousandmiles off McNear's Landing. "

"You might be a little more definite by a few miles, anyway, " Neilgrumbled, showing by his tone that he disagreed. 

"All right, then, " Charley said, conclusively, "not less than aquarter of a mile, not more than a half. "

The wind freshened with a couple of little puffs, and the fogthinned perceptibly. 

"McNear's is right off there, " Charley said, pointing directly intothe fog on our weather beam. 

The three of us were peering intently in that direction, when theReindeer struck with a dull crash and came to a standstill. We ranforward, and found her bowsprit entangled in the tanned rigging ofa short, chunky mast. She had collided, head on, with a Chinesejunk lying at anchor. 

At the moment we arrived forward, five Chinese, like so many bees, came swarming out of the little 'tween-decks cabin, the sleep stillin their eyes. 

Leading them came a big, muscular man, conspicuous for his pock-marked face and the yellow silk handkerchief swathed about hishead. It was Yellow Handkerchief, the Chinaman whom we hadarrested for illegal shrimp-fishing the year before, and who, atthat time, had nearly sunk the Reindeer, as he had nearly sunk itnow by violating the rules of navigation. 

"What d'ye mean, you yellow-faced heathen, lying here in a fairwaywithout a horn a-going?" Charley cried hotly. 

"Mean?" Neil calmly answered. "Just take a look--that's what hemeans. "

Our eyes followed the direction indicated by Neil's finger, and wesaw the open amidships of the junk, half filled, as we found oncloser examination, with fresh-caught shrimps. Mingled with theshrimps were myriads of small fish, from a quarter of an inchupward in size. 

Yellow Handkerchief had lifted the trap-net at high-water slack, and, taking advantage of the concealment offered by the fog, hadboldly been lying by, waiting to lift the net again at low-waterslack. 

"Well, " Neil hummed and hawed, "in all my varied and extensiveexperience as a fish patrolman, I must say this is the easiestcapture I ever made. What'll we do with them, Charley?"

"Tow the junk into San Rafael, of course, " came the answer. Charley turned to me. "You stand by the junk, lad, and I'll passyou a towing line. If the wind doesn't fail us, we'll make thecreek before the tide gets too low, sleep at San Rafael, and arrivein Oakland to-morrow by midday. "

So saying, Charley and Neil returned to the Reindeer and got underway, the junk towing astern. I went aft and took charge of theprize, steering by means of an antiquated tiller and a rudder withlarge, diamond-shaped holes, through which the water rushed backand forth. 

By now the last of the fog had vanished, and Charley's estimate ofour position was confirmed by the sight of McNear's Landing a shorthalf-mile away. Following along the west shore, we rounded PointPedro in plain view of the Chinese shrimp villages, and a great to-do was raised when they saw one of their junks towing behind thefamiliar fish patrol sloop. 

The wind, coming off the land, was rather puffy and uncertain, andit would have been more to our advantage had it been stronger. SanRafael Creek, up which we had to go to reach the town and turn overour prisoners to the authorities, ran through wide-stretchingmarshes, and was difficult to navigate on a falling tide, while atlow tide it was impossible to navigate at all. So, with the tidealready half-ebbed, it was necessary for us to make time. This theheavy junk prevented, lumbering along behind and holding theReindeer back by just so much dead weight. 

"Tell those coolies to get up that sail, " Charley finally called tome. "We don't want to hang up on the mud flats for the rest of thenight. "

I repeated the order to Yellow Handkerchief, who mumbled it huskilyto his men. He was suffering from a bad cold, which doubled him upin convulsive coughing spells and made his eyes heavy andbloodshot. This made him more evil-looking than ever, and when heglared viciously at me I remembered with a shiver the close shave Ihad had with him at the time of his previous arrest. 

His crew sullenly tailed on to the halyards, and the strange, outlandish sail, lateen in rig and dyed a warm brown, rose in theair. We were sailing on the wind, and when Yellow Handkerchiefflattened down the sheet the junk forged ahead and the tow-linewent slack. Fast as the Reindeer could sail, the junk outsailedher; and to avoid running her down I hauled a little closer on thewind. But the junk likewise outpointed, and in a couple of minutesI was abreast of the Reindeer and to windward. The tow-line hadnow tautened, at right angles to the two boats, and the predicamentwas laughable. 

"Cast off!" I shouted. 

Charley hesitated. 

"It's all right, " I added. "Nothing can happen. We'll make thecreek on this tack, and you'll be right behind me all the way up toSan Rafael. "

At this Charley cast off, and Yellow Handkerchief sent one of hismen forward to haul in the line. In the gathering darkness I couldjust make out the mouth of San Rafael Creek, and by the time weentered it I could barely see its banks. The Reindeer was fullyfive minutes astern, and we continued to leave her astern as webeat up the narrow, winding channel. With Charley behind us, itseemed I had little to fear from my five prisoners; but thedarkness prevented my keeping a sharp eye on them, so I transferredmy revolver from my trousers pocket to the side pocket of my coat, where I could more quickly put my hand on it. 

Yellow Handkerchief was the one I feared, and that he knew it andmade use of it, subsequent events will show. He was sitting a fewfeet away from me, on what then happened to be the weather side ofthe junk. I could scarcely see the outlines of his form, but Isoon became convinced that he was slowly, very slowly, edgingcloser to me. I watched him carefully. Steering with my lefthand, I slipped my right into my pocket and got hold of therevolver. 

I saw him shift along for a couple of inches, and I was just aboutto order him back--the words were trembling on the tip of mytongue--when I was struck with great force by a heavy figure thathad leaped through the air upon me from the lee side. It was oneof the crew. He pinioned my right arm so that I could not withdrawmy hand from my pocket, and at the same time clapped his other handover my mouth. Of course, I could have struggled away from him andfreed my hand or gotten my mouth clear so that I might cry analarm, but in a trice Yellow Handkerchief was on top of me. 

I struggled around to no purpose in the bottom of the junk, whilemy legs and arms were tied and my mouth securely bound in what Iafterward found to be a cotton shirt. Then I was left lying in thebottom. Yellow Handkerchief took the tiller, issuing his orders inwhispers; and from our position at the time, and from thealteration of the sail, which I could dimly make out above me as ablot against the stars, I knew the junk was being headed into themouth of a small slough which emptied at that point into San RafaelCreek. 

In a couple of minutes we ran softly alongside the bank, and thesail was silently lowered. The Chinese kept very quiet. YellowHandkerchief sat down in the bottom alongside of me, and I couldfeel him straining to repress his raspy, hacking cough. Possiblyseven or eight minutes later I heard Charley's voice as theReindeer went past the mouth of the slough. 

"I can't tell you how relieved I am, " I could plainly hear himsaying to Neil, "that the lad has finished with the fish patrolwithout accident. "

Here Neil said something which I could not catch, and thenCharley's voice went on:

"The youngster takes naturally to the water, and if, when hefinishes high school, he takes a course in navigation and goes deepsea, I see no reason why he shouldn't rise to be master of thefinest and biggest ship afloat. "

It was all very flattering to me, but lying there, bound and gaggedby my own prisoners, with the voices growing faint and fainter asthe Reindeer slipped on through the darkness toward San Rafael, Imust say I was not in quite the proper situation to enjoy mysmiling future. With the Reindeer went my last hope. What was tohappen next I could not imagine, for the Chinese were a differentrace from mine, and from what I knew I was confident that fair playwas no part of their make-up. 

After waiting a few minutes longer, the crew hoisted the lateensail, and Yellow Handkerchief steered down toward the mouth of SanRafael Creek. The tide was getting lower, and he had difficulty inescaping the mud-banks. I was hoping he would run aground, but hesucceeded in making the Bay without accident. 

As we passed out of the creek a noisy discussion arose, which Iknew related to me. Yellow Handkerchief was vehement, but theother four as vehemently opposed him. It was very evident that headvocated doing away with me and that they were afraid of theconsequences. I was familiar enough with the Chinese character toknow that fear alone restrained them. But what plan they offeredin place of Yellow Handkerchief's murderous one, I could not makeout. 

My feelings, as my fate hung in the balance, may be guessed. Thediscussion developed into a quarrel, in the midst of which YellowHandkerchief unshipped the heavy tiller and sprang toward me. Buthis four companions threw themselves between, and a clumsy struggletook place for possession of the tiller. In the end YellowHandkerchief was overcome, and sullenly returned to the steering, while they soundly berated him for his rashness. 

Not long after, the sail was run down and the junk slowly urgedforward by means of the sweeps. I felt it ground gently on thesoft mud. Three of the Chinese--they all wore long sea-boots--gotover the side, and the other two passed me across the rail. WithYellow Handkerchief at my legs and his two companions at myshoulders, they began to flounder along through the mud. Aftersome time their feet struck firmer footing, and I knew they werecarrying me up some beach. The location of this beach was notdoubtful in my mind. It could be none other than one of the MarinIslands, a group of rocky islets which lay off the Marin Countyshore. 

When they reached the firm sand that marked high tide, I wasdropped, and none too gently. Yellow Handkerchief kicked mespitefully in the ribs, and then the trio floundered back throughthe mud to the junk. A moment later I heard the sail go up andslat in the wind as they drew in the sheet. Then silence fell, andI was left to my own devices for getting free. 

I remembered having seen tricksters writhe and squirm out of ropeswith which they were bound, but though I writhed and squirmed likea good fellow, the knots remained as hard as ever, and there was noappreciable slack. In the course of my squirming, however, Irolled over upon a heap of clam-shells--the remains, evidently, ofsome yachting party's clam-bake. This gave me an idea. My handswere tied behind my back; and, clutching a shell in them, I rolledover and over, up the beach, till I came to the rocks I knew to bethere. 

Rolling around and searching, I finally discovered a narrowcrevice, 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 mywrists. The edge of the shell was also brittle, and I broke it bybearing too heavily upon it. Then I rolled back to the heap andreturned with as many shells as I could carry in both hands. Ibroke many shells, cut my hands a number of times, and got crampsin my legs from my strained position and my exertions. 

While I was suffering from the cramps, and resting, I heard afamiliar halloo drift across the water. It was Charley, searchingfor me. The gag in my mouth prevented me from replying, and Icould only lie there, helplessly fuming, while he rowed past theisland and his voice slowly lost itself in the distance. 

I returned to the sawing process, and at the end of half an hoursucceeded in severing the rope. The rest was easy. My hands oncefree, it was a matter of minutes to loosen my legs and to take thegag out of my mouth. I ran around the island to make sure it WASan island and not by any chance a portion of the mainland. Anisland it certainly was, one of the Marin group, fringed with asandy beach and surrounded by a sea of mud. Nothing remained butto wait till daylight and to keep warm; for it was a cold, rawnight for California, with just enough wind to pierce the skin andcause one to shiver. 

To keep up the circulation, I ran around the island a dozen timesor so, and clambered across its rocky backbone as many times more--all of which was of greater service to me, as I afterwarddiscovered, than merely to warm me up. In the midst of thisexercise I wondered if I had lost anything out of my pockets whilerolling over and over in the sand. A search showed the absence ofmy revolver and pocket-knife. The first Yellow Handkerchief hadtaken; but the knife had been lost in the sand. 

I was hunting for it when the sound of rowlocks came to my ears. At first, of course, I thought of Charley; but on second thought Iknew Charley would be calling out as he rowed along. A suddenpremonition of danger seized me. The Marin Islands are lonelyplaces; chance visitors in the dead of night are hardly to beexpected. What if it were Yellow Handkerchief? The sound made bythe rowlocks grew more distinct. I crouched in the sand andlistened intently. The boat, which I judged a small skiff from thequick stroke of the oars, was landing in the mud about fifty yardsup the beach. I heard a raspy, hacking cough, and my heart stoodstill. It was Yellow Handkerchief. Not to be robbed of hisrevenge by his more cautious companions, he had stolen away fromthe village and come back alone. 

I did some swift thinking. I was unarmed and helpless on a tinyislet, and a yellow barbarian, whom I had reason to fear, wascoming after me. Any place was safer than the island, and I turnedinstinctively to the water, or rather to the mud. As he began toflounder ashore through the mud, I started to flounder out into it, going over the same course which the Chinese had taken in landingme and in returning to the junk. 

Yellow Handkerchief, believing me to be lying tightly bound, exercised no care, but came ashore noisily. This helped me, for, under the shield of his noise and making no more myself thannecessary, I managed to cover fifty feet by the time he had madethe 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 riskof being discovered by his sharp eyes. 

He walked down the beach straight to where he had left me lying, and I had a fleeting feeling of regret at not being able to see hissurprise when he did not find me. But it was a very fleetingregret, for my teeth were chattering with the cold. 

What his movements were after that I had largely to deduce from thefacts of the situation, for I could scarcely see him in the dimstarlight. But I was sure that the first thing he did was to makethe circuit of the beach to learn if landings had been made byother boats. This he would have known at once by the tracksthrough the mud. 

Convinced that no boat had removed me from the island, he nextstarted to find out what had become of me. Beginning at the pileof clamshells, he lighted matches to trace my tracks in the sand. At such times I could see his villanous face plainly, and, when thesulphur from the matches irritated his lungs, between the raspycough that followed and the clammy mud in which I was lying, Iconfess I shivered harder than ever. 

The multiplicity of my footprints puzzled him. Then the idea thatI might be out in the mud must have struck him, for he waded out afew yards in my direction, and, stooping, with his eyes searchedthe dim surface long and carefully. He could not have been morethan fifteen feet from me, and had he lighted a match he wouldsurely have discovered me. 

He returned to the beach and clambered about, over the rockybackbone, again hunting for me with lighted matches, The closenessof the shave impelled me to further flight. Not daring to wadeupright, on account of the noise made by floundering and by thesuck of the mud, I remained lying down in the mud and propelledmyself over its surface by means of my hands. Still keeping thetrail made by the Chinese in going from and to the junk, I held onuntil I reached the water. Into this I waded to a depth of threefeet, and then I turned off to the side on a line parallel with thebeach. 

The thought came to me of going toward Yellow Handkerchief's skiffand escaping in it, but at that very moment he returned to thebeach, and, as though fearing the very thing I had in mind, heslushed out through the mud to assure himself that the skiff wassafe. 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 thespot where the Chinese had begun to wade ashore from the junk. Idrew myself out on the mud and remained lying flat. 

Again Yellow Handkerchief returned to the beach and made a searchof the island, and again he returned to the heap of clam-shells. Iknew what was running in his mind as well as he did himself. Noone could leave or land without making tracks in the mud. The onlytracks to be seen were those leading from his skiff and from wherethe junk had been. I was not on the island. I must have left itby one or the other of those two tracks. He had just been over theone to his skiff, and was certain I had not left that way. Therefore I could have left the island only by going over thetracks of the junk landing. This he proceeded to verify by wadingout over them himself, lighting matches as he came along. 

When he arrived at the point where I had first lain, I knew, by thematches he burned and the time he took, that he had discovered themarks left by my body. These he followed straight to the water andinto 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 easilymake out the impression made by the junk's bow, and could havelikewise made out the impression of any other boat if it had landedat that particular spot. But there was no such mark; and I knewthat he was absolutely convinced that I was hiding somewhere in themud. 

But to hunt on a dark night for a boy in a sea of mud would be likehunting 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 wassuffering severely from the cold. At last he waded out to hisskiff and rowed away. What if this departure of YellowHandkerchief's were a sham? What if he had done it merely toentice me ashore?

The more I thought of it the more certain I became that he had madea little too much noise with his oars as he rowed away. So Iremained, lying in the mud and shivering. I shivered till themuscles of the small of my back ached and pained me as badly as thecold, and I had need of all my self-control to force myself toremain in my miserable situation. 

It was well that I did, however, for, possibly an hour later, Ithought I could make out something moving on the beach. I watchedintently, but my ears were rewarded first, by a raspy cough I knewonly too well. Yellow Handkerchief had sneaked back, landed on theother side of the island, and crept around to surprise me if I hadreturned. 

After that, though hours passed without sign of him, I was afraidto return to the island at all. On the other hand, I was almostequally 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 beganto ache in a way that was agony. The tide had long since begun torise, and, foot by foot, it drove me in toward the beach. Highwater came at three o'clock, and at three o'clock I drew myself upon the beach, more dead than alive, and too helpless to haveoffered any resistance had Yellow Handkerchief swooped down uponme. 

But no Yellow Handkerchief appeared. He had given me up and goneback to Point Pedro. Nevertheless, I was in a deplorable, not tosay dangerous, condition. I could not stand upon my feet, muchless walk. My clammy, muddy garments clung to me like sheets ofice. I thought I should never get them off. So numb and lifelesswere my fingers, and so weak was I, that it seemed to take an hourto get off my shoes. I had not the strength to break the porpoise-hide laces, and the knots defied me. I repeatedly beat my handsupon the rocks to get some sort of life into them. Sometimes Ifelt sure I was going to die. 

But in the end, --after several centuries, it seemed to me, --I gotoff the last of my clothes. The water was now close at hand, and Icrawled 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 liestill. Nothing remained but to crawl weakly, like a snail, and atthe cost of constant pain, up and down the sand. I kept this up aslong as possible, but as the east paled with the coming of dawn Ibegan to succumb. The sky grew rosy-red, and the golden rim of thesun, showing above the horizon, found me lying helpless andmotionless among the clam-shells. 

As in a dream, I saw the familiar mainsail of the Reindeer as sheslipped out of San Rafael Creek on a light puff of morning air. This dream was very much broken. There are intervals I can neverrecollect on looking back over it. Three things, however, Idistinctly remember: the first sight of the Reindeer's mainsail;her lying at anchor a few hundred feet away and a small boatleaving her side; and the cabin stove roaring red-hot, myselfswathed all over with blankets, except on the chest and shoulders, which Charley was pounding and mauling unmercifully, and my mouthand throat burning with the coffee which Neil Partington waspouring down a trifle too hot. 

But burn or no burn, I tell you it felt good. By the time wearrived in Oakland I was as limber and strong as ever, --thoughCharlie and Neil Partington were afraid I was going to havepneumonia, and Mrs. Partington, for my first six months of school, kept an anxious eye upon me to discover the first symptoms ofconsumption. 

Time flies. It seems but yesterday that I was a lad of sixteen onthe fish patrol. Yet I know that I arrived this very morning fromChina, with a quick passage to my credit, and master of thebarkentine Harvester. And I know that to-morrow morning I shallrun 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 overold times. No; I shall not go to Benicia, now that I think aboutit. I expect to be a highly interested party to a wedding, shortlyto take place. Her name is Alice Partington, and, since Charleyhas promised to be best man, he will have to come down to Oaklandinstead.