Tales of the Fish Patrol .......................................................................................................................................1

San Francisco Bay is so large that often its storms are more disastrous to oceangoing craft than is the ocean

itself in its violent moments. The waters of the bay contain all manner of fish, wherefore its surface is

ploughed by the keels of all manner of fishing boats manned by all manner of fishermen. To protect the fish

from this motley floating population many wise laws have been passed, and there is a fish patrol to see that

these laws are enforced. Exciting times are the lot of the fish patrol: in its history more than one dead

patrolman has marked defeat, and more often dead fishermen across their illegal nets have marked success.

Wildest among the fisherfolk may be accounted the Chinese shrimp catchers. It is the habit of the shrimp

to crawl along the bottom in vast armies till it reaches fresh water, when it turns about and crawls back again

to the salt. And where the tide ebbs and flows, the Chinese sink great bagnets to the bottom, with gaping

mouths, into which the shrimp crawls and from which it is transferred to the boilingpot. This in itself would

not be bad, were it not for the small mesh of the nets, so small that the tiniest fishes, little newhatched things

not a quarter of an inch long, cannot pass through. The beautiful beaches of Points Pedro and Pablo, where

are the shrimpcatchers' villages, are made fearful by the stench from myriads of decaying fish, and against

When I was a youngster of sixteen, a good sloopsailor and all round baywaterman, my sloop, the

Reindeer, was chartered by the Fish Commission, and I became for the time being a deputy patrolman. After

a deal of work among the Greek fishermen of the Upper Bay and rivers, where knives flashed at the

beginning of trouble and men permitted themselves to be made prisoners only after a revolver was thrust in

their faces, we hailed with delight an expedition to the Lower Bay against the Chinese shrimpcatchers.

There were six of us, in two boats, and to avoid suspicion we ran down after dark and dropped anchor under a

projecting bluff of land known as Point Pinole. As the east paled with the first light of dawn we got under

way again, and hauled close on the land breeze as we slanted across the bay toward Point Pedro. The morning

mists curled and clung to the water so that we could see nothing, but we busied ourselves driving the chill

from our bodies with hot coffee. Also we had to devote ourselves to the miserable task of bailing, for in some

incomprehensible way the Reindeer had sprung a generous leak. Half the night had been spent in overhauling

the ballast and exploring the seams, but the labor had been without avail. The water still poured in, and

After coffee, three of the men withdrew to the other boat, a Columbia River salmon boat, leaving three of us

in the Reindeer. Then the two craft proceeded in company till the sun showed over the eastern skyline. Its

fiery rays dispelled the clinging vapors, and there, before our eyes, like a picture, lay the shrimp fleet, spread

out in a great halfmoon, the tips of the crescent fully three miles apart, and each junk moored fast to the

The situation dawned upon us. While waiting for slack water, in which to lift their heavy nets from the bed of

the bay, the Chinese had all gone to sleep below. We were elated, and our plan of battle was swiftly formed.

"Throw each of your two men on to a junk," whispered Le Grant to me from the salmon boat. "And you make

fast to a third yourself. We'll do the same, and there's no reason in the world why we shouldn't capture six

Then we separated. I put the Reindeer about on the other tack, ran up under the lee of a junk, shivered the

mainsail into the wind and lost headway, and forged past the stern of the junk so slowly and so near that one

of the patrolmen stepped lightly aboard. Then I kept off, filled the mainsail, and bore away for a second junk.

Up to this time there had been no noise, but from the first junk captured by the salmon boat an uproar now

broke forth. There was shrill Oriental yelling, a pistol shot, and more yelling.

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

By this time we were in the thick of the fleet, and the alarm was spreading with incredible swiftness. The

decks were beginning to swarm with halfawakened and halfnaked Chinese. Cries and yells of warning and

anger were flying over the quiet water, and somewhere a conch shell was being blown with great success. To

the right of us I saw the captain of a junk chop away his mooring line with an axe and spring to help his crew

at the hoisting of the huge, outlandish lugsail. But to the left the first heads were popping up from below on

another junk, and I rounded up the Reindeer alongside long enough for George to spring aboard.

The whole fleet was now under way. In addition to the sails they had gotten out long sweeps, and the bay was

being ploughed in every direction by the fleeing junks. I was now alone in the Reindeer, seeking feverishly to

capture a third prize. The first junk I took after was a clean miss, for it trimmed its sheets and shot away

surprisingly into the wind. By fully half a point it outpointed the Reindeer, and I began to feel respect for the

clumsy craft. Realizing the hopelessness of the pursuit, I filled away, threw out the mainsheet, and drove

down before the wind upon the junks to leeward, where I had them at a disadvantage.

The one I had selected wavered indecisively before me, and, as I swung wide to make the boarding gentle,

filled suddenly and darted away, the smart Mongols shouting a wild rhythm as they bent to the sweeps. But I

had been ready for this. I luffed suddenly. Putting the tiller hard down, and holding it down with my body, I

brought the mainsheet in, hand over hand, on the run, so as to retain all possible striking force. The two

starboard sweeps of the junk were crumpled up, and then the two boats came together with a crash. The

Reindeer's bowsprit, like a monstrous hand, reached over and ripped out the junk's chunky mast and towering

This was met by a curdling yell of rage. A big Chinaman, remarkably evillooking, with his head swathed in

a yellow silk handkerchief and face badly pockmarked, planted a pikepole on the Reindeer's bow and

began to shove the entangled boats apart. Pausing long enough to let go the jib halyards, and just as the

Reindeer cleared and began to drift astern, I leaped aboard the junk with a line and made fast. He of the

yellow handkerchief and pockmarked face came toward me threateningly, but I put my hand into my hip

pocket, and he hesitated. I was unarmed, but the Chinese have learned to be fastidiously careful of American

hip pockets, and it was upon this that I depended to keep him and his savage crew at a distance.

I ordered him to drop the anchor at the junk's bow, to which he replied, "No sabbe." The crew responded in

like fashion, and though I made my meaning plain by signs, they refused to understand. Realizing the

inexpediency of discussing the matter, I went forward myself, overran the line, and let the anchor go.

"Now get aboard, four of you," I said in a loud voice, indicating with my fingers that four of them were to go

with me and the fifth was to remain by the junk. The Yellow Handkerchief hesitated; but I repeated the order

fiercely (much more fiercely than I felt), at the same time sending my hand to my hip. Again the Yellow

Handkerchief was overawed, and with surly looks he led three of his men aboard the Reindeer. I cast off at

once, and, leaving the jib down, steered a course for George's junk. Here it was easier, for there were two of

us, and George had a pistol to fall back on if it came to the worst. And here, as with my junk, four Chinese

Four more were added to our passenger list from the third junk. By this time the salmon boat had collected its

twelve prisoners and came alongside, badly overloaded. To make matters worse, as it was a small boat, the

patrolmen were so jammed in with their prisoners that they would have little chance in case of trouble.

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

"Make it four," he suggested, "and I'll take Bill with me." (Bill was the third patrolman.) "We haven't elbow

room here, and in case of a scuffle one white to every two of them will be just about the right proportion."

The exchange was made, and the salmon boat got up its spritsail and headed down the bay toward the

marshes off San Rafael. I ran up the jib and followed with the Reindeer. San Rafael, where we were to turn

our catch over to the authorities, communicated with the bay by way of a long and tortuous slough, or

marshland creek, which could be navigated only when the tide was in. Slack water had come, and, as the ebb

was commencing, there was need for hurry if we cared to escape waiting half a day for the next tide.

But the land breeze had begun to die away with the rising sun, and now came only in failing puffs. The

salmon boat got out its oars and soon left us far astern. Some of the Chinese stood in the forward part of the

cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as I leaned over the cockpit rail to flatten down the jibsheet a bit, I

felt some one brush against my hip pocket. I made no sign, but out of the corner of my eye I saw that the

Yellow Handkerchief had discovered the emptiness of the pocket which had hitherto overawed him.

To make matters serious, during all the excitement of boarding the junks the Reindeer had not been bailed,

and the water was beginning to slush over the cockpit floor. The shrimpcatchers pointed at it and looked to

"Yes," I said. "Bime by, allee same dlown, velly quick, you no bail now. Sabbe?"

No, they did not "sabbe," or at least they shook their heads to that effect, though they chattered most

comprehendingly to one another in their own lingo. I pulled up three or four of the bottom boards, got a

couple of buckets from a locker, and by unmistakable signlanguage invited them to fall to. But they

Their laughter was not good laughter. There was a hint of menace in it, a maliciousness which their black

looks verified. The Yellow Handkerchief, since his discovery of my empty pocket, had become most insolent

in his bearing, and he wormed about among the other prisoners, talking to them with great earnestness.

Swallowing my chagrin, I stepped down into the cockpit and began throwing out the water. But hardly had I

begun, when the boom swung overhead, the mainsail filled with a jerk, and the Reindeer heeled over. The

day wind was springing up. George was the veriest of landlubbers, so I was forced to give over bailing and

take the tiller. The wind was blowing directly off Point Pedro and the high mountains behind, and because of

this was squally and uncertain, half the time bellying the canvas out and the other half flapping it idly.

George was about the most allround helpless man I had ever met. Among his other disabilities, he was a

consumptive, and I knew that if he attempted to bail, it might bring on a hemorrhage. Yet the rising water

warned me that something must be done. Again I ordered the shrimpcatchers to lend a hand with the

buckets. They laughed defiantly, and those inside the cabin, the water up to their ankles, shouted back and

But he shook his head and showed all too plainly that he was afraid. The Chinese could see the funk he was

in as well as I could, and their insolence became insufferable. Those in the cabin broke into the food lockers,

and those above scrambled down and joined them in a feast on our crackers and canned goods.

I was fuming with helpless anger. "If they get out of hand, it will be too late to care. The best thing you can

The water was rising higher and higher, and the gusts, forerunners of a steady breeze, were growing stiffer

and stiffer. And between the gusts, the prisoners, having gotten away with a week's grub, took to crowding

first to one side and then to the other till the Reindeer rocked like a cockleshell. Yellow Handkerchief

approached me, and, pointing out his village on the Point Pedro beach, gave me to understand that if I turned

the Reindeer in that direction and put them ashore, they, in turn, would go to bailing. By now the water in the

cabin was up to the bunks, and the bed clothes were sopping. It was a foot deep on the cockpit floor.

Nevertheless I refused, and I could see by George's face that he was disappointed.

"If you don't show some nerve, they'll rush us and throw us overboard," I said to him. "Better give me your

"The safest thing to do," he chattered cravenly, "is to put them ashore. I, for one, don't want to be drowned for

"And I, for another, don't care to give in to a handful of dirty Chinamen to escape drowning," I answered

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

He made no reply, but I could see he was trembling pitifully. Between the threatening Chinese and the rising

water he was beside himself with fright; and, more than the Chinese and the water, I feared him and what his

fright might impel him to do. I could see him casting longing glances at the small skiff towing astern, so in

the next calm I hauled the skiff alongside. As I did so his eyes brightened with hope; but before he could

guess my intention, I stove the frail bottom through with a handaxe, and the skiff filled to its gunwales.

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

I turned my back on him in disgust. The salmon boat had long since passed from sight behind a little

archipelago known as the Marin Islands, so no help could be looked for from that quarter. Yellow

Handkerchief came up to me in a familiar manner, the water in the cockpit slushing against his legs. I did not

like his looks. I felt that beneath the pleasant smile he was trying to put on his face there was an ill purpose. I

"Talkee talkee," I answered bitterly, for I knew now that he had understood all that passed between George

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

He shook his head, at the same time pointing over his shoulder to his comrades. "No can do. Velly bad

"Stand back!" I shouted, for I had noticed his hand disappear beneath his blouse and his body prepare for a

Disconcerted, he went back into the cabin, to hold a council, apparently, from the way the jabbering broke

forth. The Reindeer was very deep in the water, and her movements had grown quite loggy. In a rough sea

she would have inevitably swamped; but the wind, when it did blow, was off the land, and scarcely a ripple

"I think you'd better head for the beach," George said abruptly, in a manner that told me his fear had forced

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

This from George, and I found myself looking into the muzzle of his revolver of the revolver he dared to

My brain seemed smitten with a dazzling brightness. The whole situation, in all its bearings, was focussed

sharply before me the shame of losing the prisoners, the worthlessness and cowardice of George, the

meeting with Le Grant and the other patrol men and the lame explanation; and then there was the fight I had

fought so hard, victory wrenched from me just as I thought I had it within my grasp. And out of the tail of my

eye I could see the Chinese crowding together by the cabin doors and leering triumphantly. It would never

I threw my hand up and my head down. The first act elevated the muzzle, and the second removed my head

from the path of the bullet which went whistling past. One hand closed on George's wrist, the other on the

revolver. Yellow Handkerchief and his gang sprang toward me. It was now or never. Putting all my strength

into a sudden effort, I swung George's body forward to meet them. Then I pulled back with equal suddenness,

ripping the revolver out of his fingers and jerking him off his feet. He fell against Yellow Handkerchief's

knees, who stumbled over him, and the pair wallowed in the bailing hole where the cockpit floor was torn

open. The next instant I was covering them with my revolver, and the wild shrimpcatchers were cowering

But I swiftly discovered that there was all the difference in the world between shooting men who are

attacking and men who are doing nothing more than simply refusing to obey. For obey they would not when I

ordered them into the bailing hole. I threatened them with the revolver, but they sat stolidly in the flooded

Fifteen minutes passed, the Reindeer sinking deeper and deeper, her mainsail flapping in the calm. But from

off the Point Pedro shore I saw a dark line form on the water and travel toward us. It was the steady breeze I

had been expecting so long. I called to the Chinese and pointed it out. They hailed it with exclamations. Then

I pointed to the sail and to the water in the Reindeer, and indicated by signs that when the wind reached the

sail, what of the water aboard we would capsize. But they jeered defiantly, for they knew it was in my power

to luff the helm and let go the mainsheet, so as to spill the wind and escape damage.

But my mind was made up. I hauled in the mainsheet a foot or two, took a turn with it, and bracing my feet,

put my back against the tiller. This left me one hand for the sheet and one for the revolver. The dark line drew

nearer, and I could see them looking from me to it and back again with an apprehension they could not

successfully conceal. My brain and will and endurance were pitted against theirs, and the problem was which

Then the wind struck us. The mainsheet tautened with a brisk rattling of the blocks, the boom uplifted, the

sail bellied out, and the Reindeer heeled over over, and over, till the leerail went under, the cabin windows

went under, and the bay began to pour in over the cockpit rail. So violently had she heeled over, that the men

in the cabin had been thrown on top of one another into the lee bunk, where they squirmed and twisted and

The wind freshened a bit, and the Reindeer went over farther than ever. For the moment I thought she was

gone, and I knew that another puff like that and she surely would go. While I pressed her under and debated

whether I should give up or not, the Chinese cried for mercy. I think it was the sweetest sound I have ever

heard. And then, and not until then, did I luff up and ease out the mainsheet. The Reindeer righted very

slowly, and when she was on an even keel was so much awash that I doubted if she could be saved.

But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell to bailing with buckets, pots, pans, and everything

they could lay hands on. It was a beautiful sight to see that water flying over the side! And when the Reindeer

was high and proud on the water once more, we dashed away with the breeze on our quarter, and at the last

The spirit of the Chinese was broken, and so docile did they become that ere we made San Rafael they were

out with the towrope, Yellow Handkerchief at the head of the line. As for George, it was his last trip with

the fish patrol. He did not care for that sort of thing, he explained, and he thought a clerkship ashore was

Big Alec had never been captured by the fish patrol. It was his boast that no man could take him alive, and it

was his history that of the many men who had tried to take him dead none had succeeded. It was also history

that at least two patrolmen who had tried to take him dead had died themselves. Further, no man violated the

He was called "Big Alec" because of his gigantic stature. His height was six feet three inches, and he was

correspondingly broad shouldered and deepchested. He was splendidly muscled and hard as steel, and

there were innumerable stories in circulation among the fisherfolk concerning his prodigious strength. He

was as bold and dominant of spirit as he was strong of body, and because of this he was widely known by

another name, that of "The King of the Greeks." The fishing population was largely composed of Greeks, and

they looked up to him and obeyed him as their chief. And as their chief, he fought their fights for them, saw

that they were protected, saved them from the law when they fell into its clutches, and made them stand by

In the old days, the fish patrol had attempted his capture many disastrous times and had finally given it over,

so that when the word was out that he was coming to Benicia, I was most anxious to see him. But I did not

have to hunt him up. In his usual bold way, the first thing he did on arriving was to hunt us up. Charley Le

Grant and I at the time were under a patrolman named Carmintel, and the three of us were on the Reindeer,

preparing for a trip, when Big Alec stepped aboard. Carmintel evidently knew him, for they shook hands in

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

"That's all right, Alec," Carmintel said in a low voice. "I'll not bother you. Come on into the cabin, and we'll

When they had gone inside and shut the doors after them, Charley winked with slow deliberation at me. But I

was only a youngster, and new to men and the ways of some men, so I did not understand. Nor did Charley

Leaving them to their conference, at Charley's suggestion we boarded our skiff and pulled over to the Old

Steamboat Wharf, where Big Alec's ark was lying. An ark is a houseboat of small though comfortable

dimensions, and is as necessary to the Upper Bay fisherman as are nets and boats. We were both curious to

see Big Alec's ark, for history said that it had been the scene of more than one pitched battle, and that it was

We found the holes (stopped with wooden plugs and painted over), but there were not so many as I had

expected. Charley noted my look of disappointment, and laughed; and then to comfort me he gave an

authentic account of one expedition which had descended upon Big Alec's floating home to capture him,

alive preferably, dead if necessary. At the end of half a day's fighting, the patrolmen had drawn off in

wrecked boats, with one of their number killed and three wounded. And when they returned next morning

with reinforcements they found only the mooringstakes of Big Alec's ark; the ark itself remained hidden for

"But why was he not hanged for murder?" I demanded. "Surely the United States is powerful enough to bring

"He gave himself up and stood trial," Charley answered. "It cost him fifty thousand dollars to win the case,

which he did on technicalities and with the aid of the best lawyers in the state. Every Greek fisherman on the

river contributed to the sum. Big Alec levied and collected the tax, for all the world like a king. The United

States may be allpowerful, my lad, but the fact remains that Big Alec is a king inside the United States, with

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

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

Now a "Chinese line" is a cunning device invented by the people whose name it bears. By a simple system of

floats, weights, and anchors, thousands of hooks, each on a separate leader, are suspended at a distance of

from six inches to a foot above the bottom. The remarkable thing about such a line is the hook. It is barbless,

and in place of the barb, the hook is filed long and tapering to a point as sharp as that of a needle. These

hoods are only a few inches apart, and when several thousand of them are suspended just above the bottom,

like a fringe, for a couple of hundred fathoms, they present a formidable obstacle to the fish that travel along

Such a fish is the sturgeon, which goes rooting along like a pig, and indeed is often called "pigfish." Pricked

by the first hook it touches, the sturgeon gives a startled leap and comes into contact with half a dozen more

hooks. Then it threshes about wildly, until it receives hook after hook in its soft flesh; and the hooks,

straining from many different angles, hold the luckless fish fast until it is drowned. Because no sturgeon can

pass through a Chinese line, the device is called a trap in the fish laws; and because it bids fair to exterminate

the sturgeon, it is branded by the fish laws as illegal. And such a line, we were confident, Big Alec intended

Several days passed after the visit of Big Alec, during which Charley and I kept a sharp watch on him. He

towed his ark around the Solano Wharf and into the big bight at Turner's Shipyard. The bight we knew to be

good ground for sturgeon, and there we felt sure the King of the Greeks intended to begin operations. The

tide circled like a millrace in and out of this bight, and made it possible to raise, lower, or set a Chinese line

only at slack water. So between the tides Charley and I made it a point for one or the other of us to keep a

On the fourth day I was lying in the sun behind the stringerpiece of the wharf, when I saw a skiff leave the

distant shore and pull out into the bight. In an instant the glasses were at my eyes and I was following every

movement of the skiff. There were two men in it, and though it was a good mile away, I made out one of

them to be Big Alec; and ere the skiff returned to shore I made out enough more to know that the Greek had

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

A fleeting expression of annoyance passed over the patrolman's face, and then he said, "Yes?" in an absent

"Are you game, my lad?" he said to me later on in the evening, just as we finished washing down the

"Well, then," and Charley's eyes glittered in a determined way, "we've got to capture Big Alec between us,

But it was no easy task we had set ourselves. In order to convict a man of illegal fishing, it was necessary to

catch him in the act with all the evidence of the crime about him the hooks, the lines, the fish, and the man

himself. This meant that we must take Big Alec on the open water, where he could see us coming and prepare

"There's no getting around it," Charley said one morning. "If we can only get alongside it's an even toss, and

We were in the Columbia River salmon boat, the one we had used against the Chinese shrimpcatchers.

Slack water had come, and as we dropped around the end of the Solano Wharf we saw Big Alec at work,

"Change places," Charley commanded, "and steer just astern of him as though you're going into the

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

"If he begins to shoot," he cautioned, "get down in the bottom and steer from there, so that nothing more than

I nodded, and we kept silent after that, the boat slipping gently through the water and Big Alec growing

nearer and nearer. We could see him quite plainly, gaffing the sturgeon and throwing them into the boat while

his companion ran the line and cleared the hooks as he dropped them back into the water. Nevertheless, we

The next few moments were very anxious ones. The fisherman was studying us sharply, while we were

"You keep off if you know what's good for you!" he called out suddenly, as though he had made up his mind

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

I put up the tiller and eased the sheet, and the salmon boat ran off five or six points. Big Alec watched us till

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

Carmintel flushed painfully. "You'd better leave him alone, I tell you," he repeated. "He's a dangerous man,

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

This was a direct thrust at Carmintel, and we could see by the expression of his face that it sank home. For it

was common knowledge that Big Alec was as willing to bribe as to fight, and that of late years more than one

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

"What we want is imagination," Charley said to me one day, when we had attempted to creep upon Big Alec

And thereafter, and for many days, I cudgelled my brains trying to imagine some possible way by which two

men, on an open stretch of water, could capture another who knew how to use a rifle and was never to be

found without one. Regularly, every slack water, without slyness, boldly and openly in the broad day, Big

Alec was to be seen running his line. And what made it particularly exasperating was the fact that every

fisherman, from Benicia to Vallejo knew that he was successfully defying us. Carmintel also bothered us, for

he kept us busy among the shadfishers of San Pablo, so that we had little time to spare on the King of the

Greeks. But Charley's wife and children lived at Benicia, and we had made the place our headquarters, so that

"I'll tell you what we can do," I said, after several fruitless weeks had passed; "we can wait some slack water

till Big Alec has run his line and gone ashore with the fish, and then we can go out and capture the line. It

will put him to time and expense to make another, and then we'll figure to capture that too. If we can't capture

Charley saw, and said it wasn't a bad idea. We watched our chance, and the next lowwater slack, after Big

Alec had removed the fish from the line and returned ashore, we went out in the salmon boat. We had the

bearings of the line from shore marks, and we knew we would have no difficulty in locating it. The first of

the flood tide was setting in, when we ran below where we thought the line was stretched and dropped over a

fishingboat anchor. Keeping a short rope to the anchor, so that it barely touched the bottom, we dragged it

Together we hove up the rope till the anchor I came in sight with the sturgeon line caught across one of the

flukes. Scores of the murderouslooking hooks flashed into sight as we cleared the anchor, and we had just

started to run along the line to the end where we could begin to lift it, when a sharp thud in the boat startled

us. We looked about, but saw nothing and returned to our work. An instant later there was a similar sharp

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

"And he's using smokeless powder," he concluded, after an examination of the miledistant shore. "That's

I looked at the shore, but could see no sign of Big Alec, who was undoubtedly hidden in some rocky nook

with us at his mercy. A third bullet struck the water, glanced, passed singing over our heads, and struck the

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

I thought so, too, and said we didn't want the line anyway. Whereupon we cast off and hoisted the spritsail.

The bullets ceased at once, and we sailed away, unpleasantly confident that Big Alec was laughing at our

And more than that, the next day on the fishing wharf, where we were inspecting nets, he saw fit to laugh and

sneer at us, and this before all the fishermen. Charley's face went black with anger; but beyond promising Big

Alec that in the end he would surely land him behind the bars, he controlled himself and said nothing. The

King of the Greeks made his boast that no fish patrol had ever taken him or ever could take him, and the

fishermen cheered him and said it was true. They grew excited, and it looked like trouble for a while; but Big

Carmintel also laughed at Charley, and dropped sarcastic remarks, and made it hard for him. But Charley

refused to be angered, though he told me in confidence that he intended to capture Big Alec if it took all the

"I don't know how I'll do it," he said, "but do it I will, as sure as I am Charley Le Grant. The idea will come to

And at the right time it came, and most unexpectedly. Fully a month had passed, and we were constantly up

and down the river, and down and up the bay, with no spare moments to devote to the particular fisherman

who ran a Chinese line in the bight of Turner's Shipyard. We had called in at Selby's Smelter one afternoon,

while on patrol work, when all unknown to us our opportunity happened along. It appeared in the guise of a

helpless yacht loaded with seasick people, so we could hardly be expected to recognize it as the opportunity.

It was a large sloopyacht, and it was helpless inasmuch as the tradewind was blowing half a gale and there

From the wharf at Selby's we watched with careless interest the lubberly manoeuvre performed of bringing

the yacht to anchor, and the equally lubberly manoeuvre of sending the small boat ashore. A very

miserablelooking man in draggled ducks, after nearly swamping the boat in the heavy seas, passed us the

painter and climbed out. He staggered about as though the wharf were rolling, and told us his troubles, which

were the troubles of the yacht. The only roughweather sailor aboard, the man on whom they all depended,

had been called back to San Francisco by a telegram, and they had attempted to continue the cruise alone.

The high wind and big seas of San Pablo Bay had been too much for them; all hands were sick, nobody knew

anything or could do anything; and so they had run in to the smelter either to desert the yacht or to get

somebody to bring it to Benicia. In short, did we know of any sailors who would bring the yacht into

Charley looked at me. The Reindeer was lying in a snug place. We had nothing on hand in the way of patrol

work till midnight. With the wind then blowing, we could sail the yacht into Benicia in a couple of hours,

have several more hours ashore, and come back to the smelter on the evening train.

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

We rowed him aboard in much better style than he had come ashore, and saw for ourselves the helplessness

of the passengers. There were a dozen men and women, and all of them too sick even to appear grateful at our

coming. The yacht was rolling savagely, broad on, and no sooner had the owner's feet touched the deck than

he collapsed and joined, the others. Not one was able to bear a hand, so Charley and I between us cleared the

It was a rough trip, though a swift one. The Carquinez Straits were a welter of foam and smother, and we

came through them wildly before the wind, the big mainsail alternately dipping and flinging its boom

skyward as we tore along. But the people did not mind. They did not mind anything. Two or three, including

the owner, sprawled in the cockpit, shuddering when the yacht lifted and raced and sank dizzily into the

trough, and betweenwhiles regarding the shore with yearning eyes. The rest were huddled on the cabin floor

among the cushions. Now and again some one groaned, but for the most part they were as limp as so many

As the bight at Turner's Shipyard opened out, Charley edged into it to get the smoother water. Benicia was in

view, and we were bowling along over comparatively easy water, when a speck of a boat danced up ahead of

us, directly in our course. It was lowwater slack. Charley and I looked at each other. No word was spoken,

but at once the yacht began a most astonishing performance, veering and yawing as though the greenest of

amateurs was at the wheel. It was a sight for sailormen to see. To all appearances, a runaway yacht was

careering madly over the bight, and now and again yielding a little bit to control in a desperate effort to make

The owner forgot his seasickness long enough to look anxious. The speck of a boat grew larger and larger, till

we could see Big Alec and his partner, with a turn of the sturgeon line around a cleat, resting from their labor

to laugh at us. Charley pulled his sou'wester over his eyes, and I followed his example, though I could not

We came foaming down abreast of the skiff, so close that we could hear above the wind the voices of Big

Alec and his mate as they shouted at us with all the scorn that professional watermen feel for amateurs,

We thundered on past the fishermen, and nothing had happened. Charley grinned at the disappointment he

He put the wheel hard over, and the yacht whirled around obediently. The mainsheet slacked and dipped,

then shot over our heads after the boom and tautened with a crash on the traveller. The yacht heeled over

almost on her beam ends, and a great wail went up from the seasick passengers as they swept across the cabin

But we had no time for them. The yacht, completing the manoeuvre, headed into the wind with slatting

canvas, and righted to an even keel. We were still plunging ahead, and directly in our path was the skiff. I

saw Big Alec dive overboard and his mate leap for our bowsprit. Then came the crash as we struck the boat,

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

The wind and sea quickly stopped our forward movement, and we began to drift backward over the spot

where the skiff had been. Big Alec's black head and swarthy face popped up within arm's reach; and all

unsuspecting and very angry with what he took to be the clumsiness of amateur sailors, he was hauled

aboard. Also he was out of breath, for he had dived deep and stayed down long to escape our keel.

The next instant, to the perplexity and consternation of the owner, Charley was on top of Big Alec in the

cockpit, and I was helping bind him with gaskets. The owner was dancing excitedly about and demanding an

explanation, but by that time Big Alec's partner had crawled aft from the bowsprit and was peering

apprehensively over the rail into the cockpit. Charley's arm shot around his neck and the man landed on his

The wrecked skiff was rolling sluggishly a short distance to windward, and I trimmed the sheets while

"These two men are old offenders," he explained to the angry owner; "and they are most persistent violators

of the fish and game laws. You have seen them caught in the act, and you may expect to be subpoenaed as

As he spoke he rounded alongside the skiff. It had been torn from the line, a section of which was dragging to

it. He hauled in forty or fifty feet with a young sturgeon still fast in a tangle of barbless hooks, slashed that

much of the line free with his knife, and tossed it into the cockpit beside the prisoners.

"And there's the evidence, Exhibit A, for the people," Charley continued. "Look it over carefully so that you

And then, in triumph, with no more veering and yawing, we sailed into Benicia, the King of the Greeks

bound hard and fast in the cockpit, and for the first time in his life a prisoner of the fish patrol.

Of the fish patrolmen under whom we served at various times, Charley Le Grant and I were agreed, I think,

that Neil Partington was the best. He was neither dishonest nor cowardly; and while he demanded strict

obedience when we were under his orders, at the same time our relations were those of easy comradeship,

and he permitted us a freedom to which we were ordinarily unaccustomed, as the present story will show.

Neil's family lived in Oakland, which is on the Lower Bay, not more than six miles across the water from San

Francisco. One day, while scouting among the Chinese shrimpcatchers of Point Pedro, he received word

that his wife was very ill; and within the hour the Reindeer was bowling along for Oakland, with a stiff

northwest breeze astern. We ran up the Oakland Estuary and came to anchor, and in the days that followed,

while Neil was ashore, we tightened up the Reindeer's rigging, overhauled the ballast, scraped down, and put

This done, time hung heavy on our hands. Neil's wife was dangerously ill, and the outlook was a week's

lieover, awaiting the crisis. Charley and I roamed the docks, wondering what we should do, and so came

upon the oyster fleet lying at the Oakland City Wharf. In the main they were trim, natty boats, made for speed

and bad weather, and we sat down on the stringerpiece of the dock to study them.

"A good catch, I guess," Charley said, pointing to the heaps of oysters, assorted in three sizes, which lay upon

Pedlers were backing their wagons to the edge of the wharf, and from the bargaining and chaffering that went

"That boat must have at least two hundred dollars' worth aboard," I calculated. "I wonder how long it took to

"Three or four days," Charley answered. "Not bad wages for two men twentyfive dollars a day apiece."

The boat we were discussing, the Ghost, lay directly beneath us. Two men composed its crew. One was a

squat, broadshouldered fellow with remarkably long and gorillalike arms, while the other was tall and well

proportioned, with clear blue eyes and a mat of straight black hair. So unusual and striking was this

combination of hair and eyes that Charley and I remained somewhat longer than we intended.

And it was well that we did. A stout, elderly man, with the dress and carriage of a successful merchant, came

up and stood beside us, looking down upon the deck of the Ghost. He appeared angry, and the longer he

"Those are my oysters," he said at last. "I know they are my oysters. You raided my beds last night and

"Hello, Taft," the short man said, with insolent familiarity. (Among the bayfarers he had gained the nickname

of "The Centipede" on account of his long arms.) "Hello, Taft," he repeated, with the same touch of

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

"Now, in my experience," broke in the tall man, "oysters is oysters wherever you find 'em, an' they're pretty

much alike all the Bay over, and the world over, too, for that matter. We're not wantin' to quarrel with you,

Mr. Taft, but we jes' wish you wouldn't insinuate that them oysters is yours an' that we're thieves an' robbers

"Prove it," challenged the tall man, who we afterward learned was known as "The Porpoise" because of his

Mr. Taft shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Of course he could not prove the oysters to be his, no matter how

"I'd give a thousand dollars to have you men behind the bars!" he cried. "I'll give fifty dollars a head for your

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

Mr. Taft turned impatiently on his heel and walked away. From out of the corner of his eye, Charley noted

the way he went. Several minutes later, when he had disappeared around a corner, Charley rose lazily to his

feet. I followed him, and we sauntered off in the opposite direction to that taken by Mr. Taft.

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

Our course was changed at once, and we dodged around corners and raced up and down sidestreets till Mr.

"I'm going to interview him about that reward," Charley explained, as we rapidly overhauled the oysterbed

owner. "Neil will be delayed here for a week, and you and I might as well be doing something in the

"Of course, of course," Mr. Taft said, when Charley had introduced himself and explained his errand. "Those

thieves are robbing me of thousands of dollars every year, and I shall be glad to break them up at any price,

yes, sir, at any price. As I said, I'll give fifty dollars a head, and call it cheap at that. They've robbed my beds,

torn down my signs, terrorized my watchmen, and last year killed one of them. Couldn't prove it. All done in

the blackness of night. All I had was a dead watchman and no evidence. The detectives could do nothing.

Nobody has been able to do anything with those men. We have never succeeded in arresting one of them. So

"So I say, Mr. Le Grant, I am deeply obliged to you for the assistance you offer. And I shall be glad, most

glad, sir, to co operate with you in every way. My watchmen and boats are at your disposal. Come and see

me at the San Francisco offices any time, or telephone at my expense. And don't be afraid of spending

money. I'll foot your expenses, whatever they are, so long as they are within reason. The situation is growing

desperate, and something must be done to determine whether I or that band of ruffians own those oyster

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

Not only did Neil Partington interpose no obstacle to our adventure, but he proved to be of the greatest

assistance. Charley and I knew nothing of the oyster industry, while his head was an encyclopaedia of facts

concerning it. Also, within an hour or so, he was able to bring to us a Greek boy of seventeen or eighteen who

At this point I may as well explain that we of the fish patrol were free lances in a way. While Neil Partington,

who was a patrolman proper, received a regular salary, Charley and I, being merely deputies, received only

what we earned that is to say, a certain percentage of the fines imposed on convicted violators of the fish

laws. Also, any rewards that chanced our way were ours. We offered to share with Partington whatever we

should get from Mr. Taft, but the patrolman would not hear of it. He was only too happy, he said, to do a

We held a long council of war, and mapped out the following line of action. Our faces were unfamiliar on the

Lower Bay, but as the Reindeer was well known as a fishpatrol sloop, the Greek boy, whose name was

Nicholas, and I were to sail some innocentlooking craft down to Asparagus Island and join the oyster

pirates' fleet. Here, according to Nicholas's description of the beds and the manner of raiding, it was possible

for us to catch the pirates in the act of stealing oysters, and at the same time to get them in our power. Charley

was to be on the shore, with Mr. Taft's watchmen and a posse of constables, to help us at the right time.

"I know just the boat," Neil said, at the conclusion of the discussion, "a crazy old sloop that's lying over at

Tiburon. You and Nicholas can go over by the ferry, charter it for a song, and sail direct for the beds."

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

Nicholas and I succeeded in chartering the sloop very cheaply; and between laughs, while getting up sail, we

agreed that she was even crazier and older than she had been described. She was a big, flatbottomed,

squaresterned craft, slooprigged, with a sprung mast, slack rigging, dilapidated sails, and rotten

runninggear, clumsy to handle and uncertain in bringing about, and she smelled vilely of coal tar, with

which strange stuff she had been smeared from stem to stern and from cabinroof to centreboard. And to cap

it all, Coal Tar Maggie was printed in great white letters the whole length of either side.

It was an uneventful though laughable run from Tiburon to Asparagus Island, where we arrived in the

afternoon of the following day. The oyster pirates, a fleet of a dozen sloops, were lying at anchor on what was

known as the "Deserted Beds." The Coal Tar Maggie came sloshing into their midst with a light breeze

astern, and they crowded on deck to see us. Nicholas and I had caught the spirit of the crazy craft, and we

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

We took no notice of the joking, but acted, after the manner of greenhorns, as though the Coal Tar Maggie

required our undivided attention. I rounded her well to windward of the Ghost, and Nicholas ran for'ard to

drop the anchor. To all appearances it was a bungle, the way the chain tangled and kept the anchor from

reaching the bottom. And to all appearances Nicholas and I were terribly excited as we strove to clear it. At

any rate, we quite deceived the pirates, who took huge delight in our predicament.

But the chain remained tangled, and amid all kinds of mocking advice we drifted down upon and fouled the

Ghost, whose bowsprit poked square through our mainsail and ripped a hole in it as big as a barn door. The

Centipede and the Porpoise doubled up on the cabin in paroxysms of laughter, and left us to get clear as best

we could. This, with much unseamanlike performance, we succeeded in doing, and likewise in clearing the

anchorchain, of which we let out about three hundred feet. With only ten feet of water under us, this would

permit the Coal Tar Maggie to swing in a circle six hundred feet in diameter, in which circle she would be

The oyster pirates lay snugly together at short hawsers, the weather being fine, and they protested loudly at

our ignorance in putting out such an unwarranted length of anchorchain. And not only did they protest, for

Having sufficiently impressed them with our general lubberliness, Nicholas and I went below to congratulate

ourselves and to cook supper. Hardly had we finished the meal and washed the dishes, when a skiff ground

against the Coal Tar Maggie's side, and heavy feet trampled on deck. Then the Centipede's brutal face

appeared in the companionway, and he descended into the cabin, followed by the Porpoise. Before they could

seat themselves on a bunk, another skiff came alongside, and another, and another, till the whole fleet was

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

"Didn't swipe it," Nicholas answered, meeting them on their own ground and encouraging the idea that we

"Well, I don't admire your taste, that's all," sneered he of the Mexican features. "I'd rot on the beach first

"How were we to know till we tried her?" Nicholas asked, so innocently as to cause a laugh. "And how do

you get the oysters?" he hurried on. "We want a load of them; that's what we came for, a load of oysters."

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

This started another laugh, and as our visitors grew more genial we could see that they had not the slightest

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

"Yep," I answered boldly, taking the bull by the horns. "I was watching you fellows and figuring out whether

we'd go oystering or not. It's a pretty good business, I calculate, and so we're going in for it. That is," I

"I'll tell you one thing, which ain't two things," he replied, "and that is you'll have to hump yerself an' get a

better boat. We won't stand to be disgraced by any such box as this. Understand?"

"And if you show yerself square an' the right sort," he went on, "why, you kin run with us. But if you don't"

(here his voice became stern and menacing), "why, it'll be the sickest day of yer life. Understand?"

After that and more warning and advice of similar nature, the conversation became general, and we learned

that the beds were to be raided that very night. As they got into their boats, after an hour's stay, we were

"Did you notice that short, Mexicanlooking chap?" Nicholas asked, when they had departed to their various

sloops. "He's Barchi, of the Sporting Life Gang, and the fellow that came with him is Skilling. They're both

I had heard of the Sporting Life Gang before, a crowd of hoodlums and criminals that terrorized the lower

quarters of Oakland, and twothirds of which were usually to be found in state's prison for crimes that ranged

"They are not regular oyster pirates," Nicholas continued. "They've just come down for the lark and to make a

We sat in the cockpit and discussed the details of our plan till eleven o'clock had passed, when we heard the

rattle of an oar in a boat from the direction of the Ghost. We hauled up our own skiff, tossed in a few sacks,

and rowed over. There we found all the skiffs assembling, it being the intention to raid the beds in a body.

To my surprise, I found barely a foot of water where we had dropped anchor in ten feet. It was the big June

runout of the full moon, and as the ebb had yet an hour and a half to run, I knew that our anchorage would

Mr. Taft's beds were three miles away, and for a long time we rowed silently in the wake of the other boats,

once in a while grounding and our oar blades constantly striking bottom. At last we came upon soft mud

covered with not more than two inches of water not enough to float the boats. But the pirates at once were

over the side, and by pushing and pulling on the flatbottomed skiffs, we moved steadily along.

The full moon was partly obscured by highflying clouds, but the pirates went their way with the familiarity

born of long practice. After half a mile of the mud, we came upon a deep channel, up which we rowed, with

dead oyster shoals looming high and dry on either side. At last we reached the picking grounds. Two men, on

one of the shoals, hailed us and warned us off. But the Centipede, the Porpoise, Barchi, and Skilling took the

lead, and followed by the rest of us, at least thirty men in half as many boats, rowed right up to the watchmen.

"You'd better slide outa this here," Barchi said threateningly, "or we'll fill you so full of holes you wouldn't

The watchmen wisely retreated before so overwhelming a force, and rowed their boat along the channel

toward where the shore should be. Besides, it was in the plan for them to retreat.

We hauled the noses of the boats up on the shore side of a big shoal, and all hands, with sacks, spread out and

began picking. Every now and again the clouds thinned before the face of the moon, and we could see the big

oysters quite distinctly. In almost no time sacks were filled and carried back to the boats, where fresh ones

were obtained. Nicholas and I returned often and anxiously to the boats with our little loads, but always found

"Never mind," he said; "no hurry. As they pick farther and farther away, it will take too long to carry to the

boats. Then they'll stand the full sacks on end and pick them up when the tide comes in and the skiffs will

Fully half an hour went by, and the tide had begun to flood, when this came to pass. Leaving the pirates at

their work, we stole back to the boats. One by one, and noiselessly, we shoved them off and made them fast

in an awkward flotilla. Just as we were shoving off the last skiff, our own, one of the men came upon us. It

was Barchi. His quick eye took in the situation at a glance, and he sprang for us; but we went clear with a

mighty shove, and he was left floundering in the water over his head. As soon as he got back to the shoal he

We rowed with all our strength, but it was slow going with so many boats in tow. A pistol cracked from the

shoal, a second, and a third; then a regular fusillade began. The bullets spat and spat all about us; but thick

clouds had covered the moon, and in the dim darkness it was no more than random firing. It was only by

It was slow work, but every stroke carried us farther away from the shoal and nearer the shore, till at last the

shooting died down, and when the moon did come out we were too far away to be in danger. Not long

afterward we answered a shoreward hail, and two Whitehall boats, each pulled by three pairs of oars, darted

up to us. Charley's welcome face bent over to us, and he gripped us by the hands while he cried, "Oh, you

When the flotilla had been landed, Nicholas and I and a watchman rowed out in one of the Whitehalls, with

Charley in the stern sheets. Two other Whitehalls followed us, and as the moon now shone brightly, we

easily made out the oyster pirates on their lonely shoal. As we drew closer, they fired a rattling volley from

"Lot of time," Charley said. "The flood is setting in fast, and by the time it's up to their necks there won't be

So we lay on our oars and waited for the tide to do its work. This was the predicament of the pirates: because

of the big runout, the tide was now rushing back like a millrace, and it was impossible for the strongest

swimmer in the world to make against it the three miles to the sloops. Between the pirates and the shore were

we, precluding escape in that direction. On the other hand, the water was rising rapidly over the shoals, and it

It was beautifully calm, and in the brilliant white moonlight we watched them through our night glasses and

told Charley of the voyage of the Coal Tar Maggie. One o'clock came, and two o'clock, and the pirates were

"Now this illustrates the value of imagination," Charley was saying. "Taft has been trying for years to get

them, but he went at it with bull strength and failed. Now we used our heads . . ."

Just then I heard a scarcely audible gurgle of water, and holding up my hand for silence, I turned and pointed

to a ripple slowly widening out in a growing circle. It was not more than fifty feet from us. We kept perfectly

quiet and waited. After a minute the water broke six feet away, and a black head and white shoulder showed

in the moonlight. With a snort of surprise and of suddenly expelled breath, the head and shoulder went down.

We pulled ahead several strokes and drifted with the current. Four pairs of eyes searched the surface of the

water, but never another ripple showed, and never another glimpse did we catch of the black head and white

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

At a quarter to three the pirates gave their first sign of weakening. We heard cries for help, in the

unmistakable voice of the Centipede, and this time, on rowing closer, we were not fired upon. The Centipede

was in a truly perilous plight. Only the heads and shoulders of his fellowmarauders showed above the water

as they braced themselves against the current, while his feet were off the bottom and they were supporting

"Now, lads," Charley said briskly, "we have got you, and you can't get away. If you cut up rough, we'll have

to leave you alone and the water will finish you. But if you're good we'll take you aboard, one man at a time,

The Centipede was the first to be pulled aboard, and he came willingly, though he objected when the

constable put the handcuffs on him. Barchi was next hauled in, quite meek and resigned from his soaking.

When we had ten in, our boat we drew back, and the second Whitehall was loaded. The third Whitehall

"You didn't get the Porpoise," the Centipede said exultantly, as though his escape materially diminished our

Charley laughed. "But we saw him just the same, asnorting for shore like a puffing pig."

It was a mild and shivering band of pirates that we marched up the beach to the oyster house. In answer to

Charley's knock, the door was flung open, and a pleasant wave of warm air rushed out upon us.

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

And there, sitting ruefully by the fire, with a steaming mug in his hand, was the Porpoise. With one accord

"That comes of imagination," he said. "When you see a thing, you've got to see it all around, or what's the

good of seeing it at all? I saw the beach, so I left a couple of constables behind to keep an eye on it. That's

Possibly our most exasperating experience on the fish patrol was when Charley Le Grant and I laid a two

weeks' siege to a big four masted English ship. Before we had finished with the affair, it became a pretty

mathematical problem, and it was by the merest chance that we came into possession of the instrument that

After our raid on the oyster pirates we had returned to Oakland, where two more weeks passed before Neil

Partington's wife was out of danger and on the highroad to recovery. So it was after an absence of a month,

all told, that we turned the Reindeer's nose toward Benicia. When the cat's away the mice will play, and in

these four weeks the fishermen had become very bold in violating the law. When we passed Point Pedro we

noticed many signs of activity among the shrimpcatchers, and, well into San Pablo Bay, we observed a

widely scattered fleet of Upper Bay fishingboats hastily pulling in their nets and getting up sail.

This was suspicious enough to warrant investigation, and the first and only boat we succeeded in boarding

proved to have an illegal net. The law permitted no smaller mesh for catching shad than one that measured

seven and onehalf inches inside the knots, while the mesh of this particular net measured only three inches.

It was a flagrant breach of the rules, and the two fishermen were forthwith put under arrest. Neil Partington

took one of them with him to help manage the Reindeer, while Charley and I went on ahead with the other in

But the shad fleet had headed over toward the Petaluma shore in wild flight, and for the rest of the run

through San Pablo Bay we saw no more fishermen at all. Our prisoner, a bronzed and bearded Greek, sat

sullenly on his net while we sailed his craft. It was a new Columbia River salmon boat, evidently on its first

trip, and it handled splendidly. Even when Charley praised it, our prisoner refused to speak or to notice us,

We ran up the Carquinez Straits and edged into the bight at Turner's Shipyard for smoother water. Here were

lying several English steel sailing ships, waiting for the wheat harvest; and here, most unexpectedly, in the

precise place where we had captured Big Alec, we came upon two Italians in a skiff that was loaded with a

complete "Chinese" sturgeon line. The surprise was mutual, and we were on top of them before either they or

we were aware. Charley had barely time to luff into the wind and run up to them. I ran forward and tossed

them a line with orders to make it fast. One of the Italians took a turn with it over a cleat, while I hastened to

lower our big spritsail. This accomplished, the salmon boat dropped astern, dragging heavily on the skiff.

Charley came forward to board the prize, but when I proceeded to haul alongside by means of the line, the

Italians cast it off. We at once began drifting to leeward, while they got out two pairs of oars and rowed their

light craft directly into the wind. This manoeuvre for the moment disconcerted us, for in our large and heavily

loaded boat we could not hope to catch them with the oars. But our prisoner came unexpectedly to our aid.

His black eyes were flashing eagerly, and his face was flushed with suppressed excitement, as he dropped the

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

And never in my experience have I seen a man so anxious for the capture of another as was our prisoner in

the chase that followed. His eyes fairly snapped, and his nostrils quivered and dilated in a most extraordinary

way. Charley steered while he tended the sheet; and though Charley was as quick and alert as a cat, the Greek

The Italians were cut off from the shore, which was fully a mile away at its nearest point. Did they attempt to

make it, we could haul after them with the wind abeam, and overtake them before they had covered an eighth

of the distance. But they were too wise to attempt it, contenting themselves with rowing lustily to windward

along the starboard side of a big ship, the Lancashire Queen. But beyond the ship lay an open stretch of fully

two miles to the shore in that direction. This, also, they dared not attempt, for we were bound to catch them

before they could cover it. So, when they reached the bow of the Lancashire Queen, nothing remained but to

pass around and row down her port side toward the stern, which meant rowing to leeward and giving us the

We in the salmon boat, sailing close on the wind, tacked about and crossed the ship's bow. Then Charley put

up the tiller and headed down the port side of the ship, the Greek letting out the sheet and grinning with

delight. The Italians were already halfway down the ship's length; but the stiff breeze at our back drove us

after them far faster than they could row. Closer and closer we came, and I, lying down forward, was just

reaching out to grasp the skiff, when it ducked under the great stern of the Lancashire Queen.

The chase was virtually where it had begun. The Italians were rowing up the starboard side of the ship, and

we were hauled close on the wind and slowly edging out from the ship as we worked to windward. Then they

darted around her bow and began the row down her port side, and we tacked about, crossed her bow, and

went plunging down the wind hot after them. And again, just as I was reaching for the skiff, it ducked under

the ship's stern and out of danger. And so it went, around and around, the skiff each time just barely ducking

By this time the ship's crew had become aware of what was taking place, and we could see their heads in a

long row as they looked at us over the bulwarks. Each time we missed the skiff at the stern, they set up a wild

cheer and dashed across to the other side of the Lancashire Queen to see the chase to windward. They

showered us and the Italians with jokes and advice, and made our Greek so angry that at least once on each

circuit he raised his fist and shook it at them in a rage. They came to look for this, and at each display greeted

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

This was a stroke at Charley's professional pride, for pride himself he did upon his boatsailing abilities; but

he yielded the tiller to the prisoner and took his place at the sheet. Three times again we made the circuit, and

the Greek found that he could get no more speed out of the salmon boat than Charley had.

The Greek scowled ferociously and shook his fist in his customary fashion. In the meanwhile my mind had

And as we laid out on the next tack to windward, I bent a piece of line to a small grappling hook I had seen

lying in the bailhole. The end of the line I made fast to the ringbolt in the bow, and with the hook out of

sight I waited for the next opportunity to use it. Once more they made their leeward pull down the port side of

the Lancashire Queen, and once more we churned down after them before the wind. Nearer and nearer we

drew, and I was making believe to reach for them as before. The stern of the skiff was not six feet away, and

they were laughing at me derisively as they ducked under the ship's stern. At that instant I suddenly arose and

threw the grappling iron. It caught fairly and squarely on the rail of the skiff, which was jerked backward out

A groan went up from the row of sailors above, which quickly changed to a cheer as one of the Italians

whipped out a long sheathknife and cut the rope. But we had drawn them out of safety, and Charley, from

his place in the sternsheets, reached over and clutched the stern of the skiff. The whole thing happened in a

second of time, for the first Italian was cutting the rope and Charley was clutching the skiff when the second

Italian dealt him a rap over the head with an oar, Charley released his hold and collapsed, stunned, into the

bottom of the salmon boat, and the Italians bent to their oars and escaped back under the ship's stern.

The Greek took both tiller and sheet and continued the chase around the Lancashire Queen, while I attended

to Charley, on whose head a nasty lump was rapidly rising. Our sailor audience was wild with delight, and to

a man encouraged the fleeing Italians. Charley sat up, with one hand on his head, and gazed about him

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

On our next circuit, he threatened the Italians with the weapon; but they rowed on stolidly, keeping splendid

But this had no effect, nor were they to be frightened into surrendering even when he fired several shots

dangerously close to them. It was too much to expect him to shoot unarmed men, and this they knew as well

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

So the chase continued. Twenty times more we ran them around the Lancashire Queen, and at last we could

see that even their iron muscles were giving out. They were nearly exhausted, and it was only a matter of a

few more circuits, when the game took on a new feature. On the row to windward they always gained on us,

so that they were halfway down the ship's side on the row to leeward when we were passing the bow. But

this last time, as we passed the bow, we saw them escaping up the ship's gangway, which had been suddenly

lowered. It was an organized move on the part of the sailors, evidently countenanced by the captain; for by

the time we arrived where the gangway had been, it was being hoisted up, and the skiff, slung in the ship's

The parley that followed with the captain was short and snappy. He absolutely forbade us to board the

Lancashire Queen, and as absolutely refused to give up the two men. By this time Charley was as enraged as

the Greek. Not only had he been foiled in a long and ridiculous chase, but he had been knocked senseless into

"Knock off my head with little apples," he declared emphatically, striking the fist of one hand into the palm

of the other, "if those two men ever escape me! I'll stay here to get them if it takes the rest of my natural life,

and if I don't get them, then I promise you I'll live unnaturally long or until I do get them, or my name's not

And then began the siege of the Lancashire Queen, a siege memorable in the annals of both fishermen and

fish patrol. When the Reindeer came along, after a fruitless pursuit of the shad fleet, Charley instructed Neil

Partington to send out his own salmon boat, with blankets, provisions, and a fisherman's charcoal stove. By

sunset this exchange of boats was made, and we said goodby to our Greek, who perforce had to go into

Benicia and be locked up for his own violation of the law. After supper, Charley and I kept alternate

fourhour watches till daylight. The fishermen made no attempt to escape that night, though the ship sent

By the next day we saw that a steady siege was in order, and we perfected our plans with an eye to our own

comfort. A dock, known as the Solano Wharf, which ran out from the Benicia shore, helped us in this. It

happened that the Lancashire Queen, the shore at Turner's Shipyard, and the Solano Wharf were the corners

of a big equilateral triangle. From ship to shore, the side of the triangle along which the Italians had to escape,

was a distance equal to that from the Solano Wharf to the shore, the side of the triangle along which we had

to travel to get to the shore before the Italians. But as we could sail much faster than they could row, we

could permit them to travel about half their side of the triangle before we darted out along our side. If we

allowed them to get more than halfway, they were certain to beat us to shore; while if we started before they

We found that an imaginary line, drawn from the end of the wharf to a windmill farther along the shore, cut

precisely in half the line of the triangle along which the Italians must escape to reach the land. This line made

it easy for us to determine how far to let them run away before we bestirred ourselves in pursuit. Day after

day we would watch them through our glasses as they rowed leisurely along toward the halfway point; and

as they drew close into line with the windmill, we would leap into the boat and get up sail. At sight of our

preparation, they would turn and row slowly back to the Lancashire Queen, secure in the knowledge that we

To guard against calms when our salmon boat would be useless we also had in readiness a light rowing

skiff equipped with spoon oars. But at such times, when the wind failed us, we were forced to row out from

the wharf as soon as they rowed from the ship. In the nighttime, on the other hand, we were compelled to

patrol the immediate vicinity of the ship; which we did, Charley and I standing fourhour watches turn and

turn about. The Italians, however, preferred the daytime in which to escape, and so our long night vigils were

"What makes me mad," said Charley, "is our being kept from our honest beds while those rascally

lawbreakers are sleeping soundly every night. But much good may it do them," he threatened. "I'll keep them

on that ship till the captain charges them board, as sure as a sturgeon's not a catfish!"

It was a tantalizing problem that confronted us. As long as we were vigilant, they could not escape; and as

long as they were careful, we would be unable to catch them. Charley cudgelled his brains continually, but

for once his imagination failed him. It was a problem apparently without other solution than that of patience.

It was a waiting game, and whichever waited the longer was bound to win. To add to our irritation, friends of

the Italians established a code of signals with them from the shore, so that we never dared relax the siege for

a moment. And besides this, there were always one or two suspiciouslooking fishermen hanging around the

Solano Wharf and keeping watch on our actions. We could do nothing but "grin and bear it," as Charley said,

The days went by, and there was no change in the situation. Not that no attempts were made to change it. One

night friends from the shore came out in a skiff and attempted to confuse us while the two Italians escaped.

That they did not succeed was due to the lack of a little oil on the ship's davits. For we were drawn back from

the pursuit of the strange boat by the creaking of the davits, and arrived at the Lancashire Queen just as the

Italians were lowering their skiff. Another night, fully half a dozen skiffs rowed around us in the darkness,

but we held on like a leech to the side of the ship and frustrated their plan till they grew angry and showered

"It's a good sign, lad," he said to me. "When men begin to abuse, make sure they're losing patience; and

shortly after they lose patience, they lose their heads. Mark my words, if we only hold out, they'll get careless

But they did not grow careless, and Charley confessed that this was one of the times when all signs failed.

Their patience seemed equal to ours, and the second week of the siege dragged monotonously along. Then

Charley's lagging imagination quickened sufficiently to suggest a ruse. Peter Boyelen, a new patrolman and

one unknown to the fisherfolk, happened to arrive in Benicia and we took him into our plan. We were as

secret as possible about it, but in some unfathomable way the friends ashore got word to the beleaguered

On the night we were to put our ruse into effect, Charley and I took up our usual station in our rowing skiff

alongside the Lancashire Queen. After it was thoroughly dark, Peter Boyelen came out in a crazy duck boat,

the kind you can pick up and carry away under one arm. When we heard him coming along, paddling noisily,

we slipped away a short distance into the darkness, and rested on our oars. Opposite the gangway, having

jovially hailed the anchor watch of the Lancashire Queen and asked the direction of the Scottish Chiefs,

another wheat ship, he awkwardly capsized himself. The man who was standing the anchorwatch ran down

the gangway and hauled him out of the water. This was what he wanted, to get aboard the ship; and the next

thing he expected was to be taken on deck and then below to warm up and dry out. But the captain

inhospitably kept him perched on the lowest gangway step, shivering miserably and with his feet dangling

in the water, till we, out of very pity, rowed in from the darkness and took him off. The jokes and gibes of the

awakened crew sounded anything but sweet in our ears, and even the two Italians climbed up on the rail and

"That's all right," Charley said in a low voice, which I only could hear. "I'm mighty glad it's not us that's

He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he finished, but it seemed to me that there was more determination than

It would have been possible for us to secure the aid of United States marshals and board the English ship,

backed by Government authority. But the instructions of the Fish Commission were to the effect that the

patrolmen should avoid complications, and this one, did we call on the higher powers, might well end in a

The second week of the siege drew to its close, and there was no sign of change in the situation. On the

morning of the fourteenth day the change came, and it came in a guise as unexpected and startling to us as it

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

"Hello!" cried Charley, in surprise. "In the name of reason and common sense, what is that? Of all

Well might he exclaim, for there, tied up to the dock, lay the strangest looking launch I had ever seen. Not

that it could be called a launch, either, but it seemed to resemble a launch more than any other kind of boat. It

was seventy feet long, but so narrow was it, and so bare of superstructure, that it appeared much smaller than

it really was. It was built wholly of steel, and was painted black. Three smokestacks, a good distance apart

and raking well aft, arose in single file amidships; while the bow, long and lean and sharp as a knife, plainly

advertised that the boat was made for speed. Passing under the stern, we read Streak, painted in small white

Charley and I were consumed with curiosity. In a few minutes we were on board and talking with an engineer

who was watching the sunrise from the deck. He was quite willing to satisfy our curiosity, and in a few

minutes we learned that the Streak had come in after dark from San Francisco; that this was what might be

called the trial trip; and that she was the property of Silas Tate, a young mining millionaire of California,

whose fad was highspeed yachts. There was some talk about turbine engines, direct application of steam,

and the absence of pistons, rods, and cranks, all of which was beyond me, for I was familiar only with

"Four thousand horsepower and fortyfive miles an hour, though you wouldn't think it," he concluded

"Four thousand horsepower and fortyfive miles an hour," the engineer repeated, grinning goodnaturedly.

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

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

Charley walked aft and spoke to him, and while he talked earnestly the young man listened with an amused

expression on his face. He must have inquired about the depth of water close in to the shore at Turner's

Shipyard, for I could see Charley making gestures and explaining. A few minutes later he came back in high

It was our good fortune to leave the Streak when we did, for a little later one of the spy fishermen appeared.

Charley and I took up our accustomed places, on the stringerpiece, a little ahead of the Streak and over our

own boat, where we could comfortably watch the Lancashire Queen. Nothing occurred till about nine o'clock,

when we saw the two Italians leave the ship and pull along their side of the triangle toward the shore. Charley

looked as unconcerned as could be, but before they had covered a quarter of the distance, he whispered to me:

Slowly the two men rowed along till they were nearly in line with the windmill. This was the point where we

always jumped into our salmon boat and got up the sail, and the two men, evidently expecting it, seemed

When they were directly in line with the windmill, as near to the shore as to the ship, and nearer the shore

than we had ever allowed them before, they grew suspicious. We followed them through the glasses, and saw

them standing up in the skiff and trying to find out what we were doing. The spy fisherman, sitting beside us

on the stringerpiece was likewise puzzled. He could not understand our inactivity. The men in the skiff

rowed nearer the shore, but stood up again and scanned it, as if they thought we might be in hiding there. But

a man came out on the beach and waved a handkerchief to indicate that the coast was clear. That settled them.

They bent to the oars to make a dash for it. Still Charley waited. Not until they had covered threequarters of

the distance from the Lancashire Queen, which left them hardly more than a quarter of a mile to gain the

We ran the few steps to the side of the Streak and jumped aboard. Stern and bow lines were cast off in a jiffy.

The Streak shot ahead and away from the wharf. The spy fisherman we had left behind on the stringerpiece

pulled out a revolver and fired five shots into the air in rapid succession. The men in the skiff gave instant

But if they pulled like mad, I wonder how our progress can be described? We fairly flew. So frightful was the

speed with which we displaced the water, that a wave rose up on either side our bow and foamed aft in a

series of three stiff, upstanding waves, while astern a great crested billow pursued us hungrily, as though at

each moment it would fall aboard and destroy us. The Streak was pulsing and vibrating and roaring like a

thing alive. The wind of our progress was like a gale a fortyfivemile gale. We could not face it and draw

breath without choking and strangling. It blew the smoke straight back from the mouths of the smokestacks

at a direct right angle to the perpendicular. In fact, we were travelling as fast as an express train. "We just

streaked it," was the way Charley told it afterward, and I think his description comes nearer than any I can

As for the Italians in the skiff hardly had we started, it seemed to me, when we were on top of them.

Naturally, we had to slow down long before we got to them; but even then we shot past like a whirlwind and

were compelled to circle back between them and the shore. They had rowed steadily, rising from the thwarts

at every stroke, up to the moment we passed them, when they recognized Charley and me. That took the last

bit of fight out of them. They hauled in their oars, and sullenly submitted to arrest.

"Well, Charley," Neil Partington said, as we discussed it on the wharf afterward, "I fail to see where your

But Charley was true to his hobby. "Imagination?" he demanded, pointing to the Streak. "Look at that! just

look at it! If the invention of that isn't imagination, I should like to know what is."

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

Perhaps our most laughable exploit on the fish patrol, and at the same time our most dangerous one, was

when we rounded in, at a single haul, an even score of wrathful fishermen. Charley called it a "coop," having

heard Neil Partington use the term; but I think he misunderstood the word, and thought it meant "coop," to

catch, to trap. The fishermen, however, coup or coop, must have called it a Waterloo, for it was the severest

stroke ever dealt them by the fish patrol, while they had invited it by open and impudent defiance of the law.

During what is called the "open season" the fishermen might catch as many salmon as their luck allowed and

their boats could hold. But there was one important restriction. From sundown Saturday night to sunup

Monday morning, they were not permitted to set a net. This was a wise provision on the part of the Fish

Commission, for it was necessary to give the spawning salmon some opportunity to ascend the river and lay

their eggs. And this law, with only an occasional violation, had been obediently observed by the Greek

One Sunday morning, Charley received a telephone call from a friend in Collinsville, who told him that the

full force of fishermen was out with its nets. Charley and I jumped into our salmon boat and started for the

scene of the trouble. With a light favoring wind at our back we went through the Carquinez Straits, crossed

Suisun Bay, passed the Ship Island Light, and came upon the whole fleet at work.

But first let me describe the method by which they worked. The net used is what is known as a gillnet. It has

a simple diamond shaped mesh which measures at least seven and onehalf inches between the knots. From

five to seven and even eight hundred feet in length, these nets are only a few feet wide. They are not

stationary, but float with the current, the upper edge supported on the surface by floats, the lower edge sunk

This arrangement keeps the net upright in the current and effectually prevents all but the smaller fish from

ascending the river. The salmon, swimming near the surface, as is their custom, run their heads through these

meshes, and are prevented from going on through by their larger girth of body, and from going back because

of their gills, which catch in the mesh. It requires two fishermen to set such a net, one to row the boat,

while the other, standing in the stern, carefully pays out the net. When it is all out, stretching directly across

the stream, the men make their boat fast to one end of the net and drift along with it.

As we came upon the fleet of lawbreaking fishermen, each boat two or three hundred yards from its

neighbors, and boats and nets dotting the river as far as we could see, Charley said:

"I've only one regret, lad, and that is that I have'nt a thousand arms so as to be able to catch them all. As it is,

we'll only be able to catch one boat, for while we are tackling that one it will be up nets and away with the

As we drew closer, we observed none of the usual flurry and excitement which our appearance invariably

produced. Instead, each boat lay quietly by its net, while the fishermen favored us with not the slightest

I said that it was impossible, and Charley agreed; yet there was a whole fleet, manned by men who knew us

only too well, and who took no more notice of us than if we were a hay scow or a pleasure yacht.

This did not continue to be the case, however, for as we bore down upon the nearest net, the men to whom it

belonged detached their boat and rowed slowly toward the shore. The rest of the boats showed no, sign of

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

We lowered sail, picked up one end of the net, and began to heave it into the boat. But at the first heave we

heard a bullet zip zipping past us on the water, followed by the faint report of a rifle. The men who had

rowed ashore were shooting at us. At the next heave a second bullet went zipping past, perilously near.

Charley took a turn around a pin and sat down. There were no more shots. But as soon as he began to heave

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

We rowed over toward the next net, for Charley was intent on finding out whether or not we were face to face

with an organized defiance. As we approached, the two fishermen proceeded to cast off from their net and

row ashore, while the first two rowed back and made fast to the net we had abandoned. And at the second net

we were greeted by rifle shots till we desisted and went on to the third, where the manoeuvre was again

Then we gave it up, completely routed, and hoisted sail and started on the long windward beat back to

Benicia. A number of Sundays went by, on each of which the law was persistently violated. Yet, short of an

armed force of soldiers, we could do nothing. The fishermen had hit upon a new idea and were using it for all

it was worth, while there seemed no way by which we could get the better of them.

About this time Neil Partington happened along from the Lower Bay, where he had been for a number of

weeks. With him was Nicholas, the Greek boy who had helped us in our raid on the oyster pirates, and the

pair of them took a hand. We made our arrangements carefully. It was planned that while Charley and I

tackled the nets, they were to be hidden ashore so as to ambush the fishermen who landed to shoot at us.

It was a pretty plan. Even Charley said it was. But we reckoned not half so well as the Greeks. They

forestalled us by ambushing Neil and Nicholas and taking them prisoners, while, as of old, bullets whistled

about our ears when Charley and I attempted to take possession of the nets. When we were again beaten off,

Neil Partington and Nicholas were released. They were rather shamefaced when they put in an appearance,

and Charley chaffed them unmercifully. But Neil chaffed back, demanding to know why Charley's

"Most probably," Neil agreed. "But I'm afraid the salmon will be exterminated first, and then there will be no

Neil Partington, highly disgusted with his adventure, departed for the Lower Bay, taking Nicholas with him,

and Charley and I were left to our own resources. This meant that the Sunday fishing would be left to itself,

too, until such time as Charley's idea happened along. I puzzled my head a good deal to find out some way of

checkmating the Greeks, as also did Charley, and we broached a thousand expedients which on discussion

The fishermen, on the other hand, were in high feather, and their boasts went up and down the river to add to

our discomfiture. Among all classes of them we became aware of a growing insubordination. We were

beaten, and they were losing respect for us. With the loss of respect, contempt began to arise. Charley began

to be spoken of as the "olda woman," and I received my rating as the "peewee kid." The situation was fast

becoming unbearable, and we knew that we should have to deliver a stunning stroke at the Greeks in order to

Then one morning the idea came. We were down on Steamboat Wharf, where the river steamers made their

landings, and where we found a group of amused longshoremen and loafers listening to the hard luck tale

of a sleepyeyed young fellow in long seaboots. He was a sort of amateur fisherman, he said, fishing for the

local market of Berkeley. Now Berkeley was on the Lower Bay, thirty miles away. On the previous night, he

The next he knew it was morning, and he opened his eyes to find his boat rubbing softly against the piles of

Steamboat Wharf at Benicia. Also he saw the river steamer Apache lying ahead of him, and a couple of

deckhands disentangling the shreds of his net from the paddlewheel. In short, after he had gone to sleep,

his fisherman's riding light had gone out, and the Apache had run over his net. Though torn pretty well to

pieces, the net in some way still remained foul, and he had had a thirtymile tow out of his course.

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

"Don't intend to," he rejoined. "But let's run over to Turner's Shipyard. I've something in my mind there that

And over we went to the shipyard, where Charley led the way to the Mary Rebecca, lying hauled out on the

ways, where she was being cleaned and overhauled. She was a scowschooner we both knew well, carrying a

cargo of one hundred and forty tons and a spread of canvas greater than other schooner on the bay.

"How d'ye do, Ole," Charley greeted a big blueshirted Swede who was greasing the jaws of the main gaff

Ole grunted, puffed away at his pipe, and went on greasing. The captain of a bay schooner is supposed to

Ole Ericsen verified Charley's conjecture that the Mary Rebecca, as soon as launched, would run up the San

Joaquin River nearly to Stockton for a load of wheat. Then Charley made his proposition, and Ole Ericsen

"No, Ay tank not," said Ole Ericsen. "Der Mary Rebecca yust hang up on efery mudbank with that hook. Ay

"No, no," Charley hurried to explain. "We can put the end of the hook through the bottom from the outside,

and fasten it on the inside with a nut. After it's done its work, why, all we have to do is to go down into the

hold, unscrew the nut, and out drops the hook. Then drive a wooden peg into the hole, and the Mary Rebecca

Ole Ericsen was obstinate for a long time; but in the end, after we had had dinner with him, he was brought

"Ay do it, by Yupiter!" he said, striking one huge fist into the palm of the other hand. "But yust hurry you up

It was Saturday, and Charley had need to hurry. We headed for the shipyard blacksmith shop, where, under

Charley's directions, a most generously curved book of heavy steel was made. Back we hastened to the Mary

Rebecca. Aft of the great centreboard case, through what was properly her keel, a hole was bored. The end

of the hook was inserted from the outside, and Charley, on the inside, screwed the nut on tightly. As it stood

complete, the hook projected over a foot beneath the bottom of the schooner. Its curve was something like the

In the late afternoon the Mary Rebecca was launched, and preparations were finished for the start upriver

next morning. Charley and Ole intently studied the evening sky for signs of wind, for without a good breeze

our project was doomed to failure. They agreed that there were all the signs of a stiff westerly wind not the

Next morning found their predictions verified. The sun was shining brightly, but something more than a

halfgale was shrieking up the Carquinez Straits, and the Mary Rebecca got under way with two reefs in her

mainsail and one in her foresail. We found it quite rough in the Straits and in Suisun Bay; but as the water

Off Ship Island Light the reefs were shaken out, and at Charley's suggestion a big fisherman's staysail was

made all ready for hoisting, and the maintopsail, bunched into a cap at the masthead, was overhauled so that

We were tearing along, wingandwing, before the wind, foresail to starboard and mainsail to port, as we

came upon the salmon fleet. There they were, boats and nets, as on that first Sunday when they had bested us,

strung out evenly over the river as far as we could see. A narrow space on the righthand side of the channel

was left clear for steamboats, but the rest of the river was covered with the widestretching nets. The narrow

space was our logical course, but Charley, at the wheel, steered the Mary Rebecca straight for the nets. This

did not cause any alarm among the fishermen, because upriver sailing craft are always provided with

"shoes" on the ends of their keels, which permit them to slip over the nets without fouling them.

"Now she takes it!" Charley cried, as we dashed across the middle of a line of floats which marked a net. At

one end of this line was a small barrel buoy, at the other the two fishermen in their boat. Buoy and boat at

once began to draw together, and the fishermen to cry out, as they were jerked after us. A couple of minutes

later we hooked a second net, and then a third, and in this fashion we tore straight up through the centre of the

The consternation we spread among the fishermen was tremendous. As fast as we hooked a net the two ends

of it, buoy and boat, came together as they dragged out astern; and so many buoys and boats, coming together

at such breakneck speed, kept the fishermen on the jump to avoid smashing into one another. Also, they

shouted at us like mad to heave to into the wind, for they took it as some drunken prank on the part of

The drag of a single net is very heavy, and Charley and Ole Ericsen decided that even in such a wind ten nets

were all the Mary Rebecca could take along with her. So when we had hooked ten nets, with ten boats

containing twenty men streaming along behind us, we veered to the left out of the fleet and headed toward

We were all jubilant. Charley was handling the wheel as though he were steering the winning yacht home in a

race. The two sailors who made up the crew of the Mary Rebecca, were grinning and joking. Ole Ericsen was

"Ay tank you fish patrol fallers never ban so lucky as when you sail with Ole Ericsen," he was saying, when a

rifle cracked sharply astern, and a bullet gouged along the newly painted cabin, glanced on a nail, and sang

This was too much for Ole Ericsen. At sight of his beloved paintwork thus defaced, he jumped up and shook

his fist at the fishermen; but a second bullet smashed into the cabin not six inches from his head, and he

All the fishermen had rifles, and they now opened a general fusillade. We were all driven to cover even

Charley, who was compelled to desert the wheel. Had it not been for the heavy drag of the nets, we would

inevitably have broached to at the mercy of the enraged fishermen. But the nets, fastened to the bottom of the

Mary Rebecca well aft, held her stern into the wind, and she continued to plough on, though somewhat

Charley, lying on the deck, could just manage to reach the lower spokes of the wheel; but while he could

steer after a fashion, it was very awkward. Ole Ericsen bethought himself of a large piece of sheet steel in the

It was in fact a plate from the side of the New Jersey, a steamer which had recently been wrecked outside the

Crawling carefully along the deck, the two sailors, Ole, and myself got the heavy plate on deck and aft, where

we reared it as a shield between the wheel and the fishermen. The bullets whanged and banged against it till it

rang like a bull'seye, but Charley grinned in its shelter, and coolly went on steering.

So we raced along, behind us a howling, screaming bedlam of wrathful Greeks, Collinsville ahead, and

Ole Ericsen, lying on his back close to the rail and grinning upward at the sky, turned over on his side and

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

A look of consternation slowly overspread Ole Ericsen's broad face. It was only too true. We had a hornet's

nest on our hands, and to stop at Collinsville would be to have it about our ears.

It was Ole Ericsen's turn to groan. "What for a Svaidish faller like me monkey with none of my biziness, I

A bullet glanced on the stern and sang off to starboard like a spiteful bee. "There's nothing to do but plump

the Mary Rebecca ashore and run for it," was the verdict of the first cheerful sailor.

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

"Not unless you want to," was the response. "But I don't want to be within a thousand miles of her when

those fellers come aboard" indicating the bedlam of excited Greeks towing behind.

We were right in at Collinsville then, and went foaming by within biscuittoss of the wharf.

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

"What of der wind?" Ole demanded disconsolately. "Der river will not hold out, and then . . . and then . . ."

"It's head for tall timber, and the Greeks take the hindermost," adjudged the cheerful sailor, while Ole was

We had now reached a dividing of the ways. To the left was the mouth of the Sacramento River, to the right

the mouth of the San Joaquin. The cheerful sailor crept forward and jibed over the foresail as Charley put the

helm to starboard and we swerved to the right into the San Joaquin. The wind, from which we had been

running away on an even keel, now caught us on our beam, and the Mary Rebecca was pressed down on her

Still we dashed on, and still the fishermen dashed on behind. The value of their nets was greater than the fines

they would have to pay for violating the fish laws; so to cast off from their nets and escape, which they could

easily do, would profit them nothing. Further, they remained by their nets instinctively, as a sailor remains by

his ship. And still further, the desire for vengeance was roused, and we could depend upon it that they would

The riflefiring had ceased, and we looked astern to see what our prisoners were doing. The boats were

strung along at unequal distances apart, and we saw the four nearest ones bunching together. This was done

by the boat ahead trailing a small rope astern to the one behind. When this was caught, they would cast off

from their net and heave in on the line till they were brought up to the boat in front. So great was the speed at

which we were travelling, however, that this was very slow work. Sometimes the men would strain to their

utmost and fail to get in an inch of the rope; at other times they came ahead more rapidly.

When the four boats were near enough together for a man to pass from one to another, one Greek from each

of three got into the nearest boat to us, taking his rifle with him. This made five in the foremost boat, and it

was plain that their intention was to board us. This they undertook to do, by main strength and sweat, running

hand over hand the floatline of a net. And though it was slow, and they stopped frequently to rest, they

The cap at the mainmast head was broken out, and sheet and downhaul pulled flat, amid a scattering rifle fire

from the boats; and the Mary Rebecca lay over and sprang ahead faster than ever.

But the Greeks were undaunted. Unable, at the increased speed, to draw themselves nearer by means of their

hands, they rigged from the blocks of their boat sail what sailors call a "watchtackle." One of them, held by

the legs by his mates, would lean far over the bow and make the tackle fast to the floatline. Then they would

heave in on the tackle till the blocks were together, when the manoeuvre would be repeated.

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

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

The five men were in the bow of the boat a bad place when a craft is towing. I was watching the behavior

of their boat as the great fisherman's staysail, far, far larger than the topsail and used only in light breezes,

was broken out. As the Mary Rebecca lurched forward with a tremendous jerk, the nose of the boat ducked

down into the water, and the men tumbled over one another in a wild rush into the stern to save the boat from

"That settles them!" Charley remarked, though he was anxiously studying the behavior of the Mary Rebecca,

which was being driven under far more canvas than she was rightly able to carry.

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

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

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

Telephone to Merryweather, to the sheriff, the constable, or the judge. Tell them we are coming and to turn

out the town. Arm everybody. Have them down on the wharf to meet us or we are gone gooses.

I did as he directed. By then we were close to Antioch. The wind was shouting through our rigging, the Mary

Rebecca was half over on her side and rushing ahead like an ocean greyhound. The seafaring folk of Antioch

had seen us breaking out topsail and staysail, a most reckless performance in such weather, and had hurried to

Straight down the water front we boomed, Charley edging in till a man could almost leap ashore. When he

gave the signal I tossed the marlinspike. It struck the planking of the wharf a resounding smash, bounced

It all happened in a flash, for the next minute Antioch was behind and we were heeling it up the San Joaquin

toward Merryweather, six miles away. The river straightened out here into its general easterly course, and we

squared away before the wind, wingandwing once more, the foresail bellying out to starboard.

Ole Ericsen seemed sunk into a state of stolid despair. Charley and the two sailors were looking hopeful, as

they had good reason to be. Merryweather was a coalmining town, and, it being Sunday, it was reasonable

to expect the men to be in town. Further, the coalminers had never lost any love for the Greek fishermen,

We strained our eyes for a glimpse of the town, and the first sight we caught of it gave us immense relief. The

wharves were black with men. As we came closer, we could see them still arriving, stringing down the main

street, guns in their hands and on the run. Charley glanced astern at the fishermen with a look of ownership in

his eye which till then had been missing. The Greeks were plainly overawed by the display of armed strength

We took in topsail and staysail, dropped the main peak, and as we got abreast of the principal wharf jibed the

mainsail. The Mary Rebecca shot around into the wind, the captive fishermen describing a great arc behind

her, and forged ahead till she lost way, when lines we're flung ashore and she was made fast. This was

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

"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

He went below with a monkeywrench, unscrewed the nut, and let the hook drop off. When the Greeks had

hauled their nets into their boats and made everything shipshape, a posse of citizens took them off our hands

"Ay tank Ay ban a great big fool," said Ole Ericsen. But he changed his mind when the admiring

townspeople crowded aboard to shake hands with him, and a couple of enterprising newspaper men took

It must not be thought, from what I have told of the Greek fishermen, that they were altogether bad. Far from

it. But they were rough men, gathered together in isolated communities and fighting with the elements for a

livelihood. They lived far away from the law and its workings, did not understand it, and thought it tyranny.

Especially did the fish laws seem tyrannical. And because of this, they looked upon the men of the fish patrol

We menaced their lives, or their living, which is the same thing, in many ways. We confiscated illegal traps

and nets, the materials of which had cost them considerable sums and the making of which required weeks of

labor. We prevented them from catching fish at many times and seasons, which was equivalent to preventing

them from making as good a living as they might have made had we not been in existence. And when we

captured them, they were brought into the courts of law, where heavy cash fines were collected from them.

As a result, they hated us vindictively. As the dog is the natural enemy of the cat, the snake of man, so were

But it is to show that they could act generously as well as hate bitterly that this story of Demetrios Contos is

told. Demetrios Contos lived in Vallejo. Next to Big Alec, he was the largest, bravest, and most influential

man among the Greeks. He had given us no trouble, and I doubt if he would ever have clashed with us had he

not invested in a new salmon boat. This boat was the cause of all the trouble. He had had it built upon his

own model, in which the lines of the general salmon boat were somewhat modified.

To his high elation he found his new boat very fast in fact, faster than any other boat on the bay or rivers.

Forthwith he grew proud and boastful: and, our raid with the Mary Rebecca on the Sunday salmon fishers

having wrought fear in their hearts, he sent a challenge up to Benicia. One of the local fishermen conveyed it

to us; it was to the effect that Demetrios Contos would sail up from Vallejo on the following Sunday, and in

the plain sight of Benicia set his net and catch salmon, and that Charley Le Grant, patrolman, might come and

get him if he could. Of course Charley and I had heard nothing of the new boat. Our own boat was pretty fast,

Sunday came. The challenge had been bruited abroad, and the fishermen and seafaring folk of Benicia turned

out to a man, crowding Steamboat Wharf till it looked like the grand stand at a football match. Charley and I

had been sceptical, but the fact of the crowd convinced us that there was something in Demetrios Contos's

In the afternoon, when the seabreeze had picked up in strength, his sail hove into view as he bowled along

before the wind. He tacked a score of feet from the wharf, waved his hand theatrically, like a knight about to

enter the lists, received a hearty cheer in return, and stood away into the Straits for a couple of hundred yards.

Then he lowered sail, and, drifting the boat sidewise by means of the wind, proceeded to set his net. He did

not set much of it, possibly fifty feet; yet Charley and I were thunderstruck at the man's effrontery. We did

not know at the time, but we learned afterward, that the net he used was old and worthless. It could catch fish,

"I confess, it puzzles me. What if he has out only fifty feet? He could never get it in if we once started for

him. And why does he come here anyway, flaunting his lawbreaking in our faces? Right in our home town,

Charley's voice took on an aggrieved tone, and he continued for some minutes to inveigh against the

In the meantime, the man in question was lolling in the stern of his boat and watching the net floats. When a

large fish is meshed in a gillnet, the floats by their agitation advertise the fact. And they evidently advertised

it to Demetrios, for he pulled in about a dozen feet of net, and held aloft for a moment, before he flung it into

the bottom of the boat, a big, glistening salmon. It was greeted by the audience on the wharf with round after

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

The crowd shouted warning to Demetrios, and as we darted out from the wharf we saw him slash his

worthless net clear with a long knife. His sail was all ready to go up, and a moment later it fluttered in the

sunshine. He ran aft, drew in the sheet, and filled on the long tack toward the Contra Costa Hills.

By this time we were not more than thirty feet astern. Charley was jubilant. He knew our boat was fast, and

he knew, further, that in fine sailing few men were his equals. He was confident that we should surely catch

It was a pretty sailing breeze. We were gliding sleekly through the water, but Demetrios was slowly sliding

away from us. And not only was he going faster, but he was eating into the wind a fraction of a point closer

than we. This was sharply impressed upon us when he went about under the Contra Costa Hills and passed us

"Whew!" Charley exclaimed. "Either that boat is a daisy, or we've got a fivegallon coaloil can fast to our

It certainly looked it one way or the other. And by the time Demetrios made the Sonoma Hills, on the other

side of the Straits, we were so hopelessly outdistanced that Charley told me to slack off the sheet, and we

squared away for Benicia. The fishermen on Steamboat Wharf showered us with ridicule when we returned

and tied up. Charley and I got out and walked away, feeling rather sheepish, for it is a sore stroke to one's

pride when he thinks he has a good boat and knows how to sail it, and another man comes along and beats

Charley mooned over it for a couple of days; then word was brought to us, as before, that on the next Sunday

Demetrios Contos would repeat his performance. Charley roused himself. He had our boat out of the water,

cleaned and repainted its bottom, made a trifling alteration about the centreboard, overhauled the running

gear, and sat up nearly all of Saturday night sewing on a new and much larger sail. So large did he make it, in

fact, that additional ballast was imperative, and we stowed away nearly five hundred extra pounds of old

Sunday came, and with it came Demetrios Contos, to break the law defiantly in open day. Again we had the

afternoon seabreeze, and again Demetrios cut loose some forty or more feet of his rotten net, and got up sail

and under way under our very noses. But he had anticipated Charley's move, and his own sail peaked higher

It was nip and tuck across to the Contra Costa Hills, neither of us seeming to gain or to lose. But by the time

we had made the return tack to the Sonoma Hills, we could see that, while we footed it at about equal speed,

Demetrios had eaten into the wind the least bit more than we. Yet Charley was sailing our boat as finely and

delicately as it was possible to sail it, and getting more out of it than he ever had before.

Of course, he could have drawn his revolver and fired at Demetrios; but we had long since found it contrary

to our natures to shoot at a fleeing man guilty of only a petty offence. Also a sort of tacit agreement seemed

to have been reached between the patrolmen and the fishermen. If we did not shoot while they ran away,

they, in turn, did not fight if we once laid hands on them. Thus Demetrios Contos ran away from us, and we

did no more than try our best to overtake him; and, in turn, if our boat proved faster than his, or was sailed

With our large sails and the healthy breeze romping up the Carquinez Straits, we found that our sailing was

what is called "ticklish." We had to be constantly on the alert to avoid a capsize, and while Charley steered I

held the mainsheet in my hand with but a single turn round a pin, ready to let go at any moment. Demetrios,

But it was a vain undertaking for us to attempt to catch him. Out of his inner consciousness he had evolved a

boat that was better than ours. And though Charley sailed fully as well, if not the least bit better, the boat he

"Slack away the sheet," Charley commanded; and as our boat fell off before the wind, Demetrios's mocking

Charley shook his head, saying, "It's no use. Demetrios has the better boat. If he tries his performance again,

"What's the matter," I suggested, on the Wednesday following, "with my chasing Demetrios in the boat next

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

"But you mustn't chase him too far," he went on, the next moment, "or he'll head out into San Pablo Bay

instead of running home to Vallejo, and there I'll be, standing lonely on the wharf and waiting in vain for him

"Everybody'll know I've gone to Vallejo, and you can depend upon it that Demetrios will know, too. I'm

This objection was only too valid, and for the rest of the day I struggled under my disappointment. But that

night a new way seemed to open to me, and in my eagerness I awoke Charley from a sound sleep.

"No," I replied, "but my head is. Listen to this. On Sunday you and I will be around Benicia up to the very

moment Demetrios's sail heaves into sight. This will lull everybody's suspicions. Then, when Demetrios's sail

does heave in sight, do you stroll leisurely away and uptown. All the fishermen will think you're beaten and

"And very good indeed," I continued proudly. "You stroll carelessly uptown, but when you're once out of

sight you leg it for all you're worth for Dan Maloney's. Take the little mare of his, and strike out on the

country road for Vallejo. The road's in fine condition, and you can make it in quicker time than Demetrios

"And I'll arrange right away for the mare, first thing in the morning," Charley said, accepting the modified

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

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

"Imagination," I answered. "It's what you're always preaching 'keep thinking one thought ahead of the other

"He! he!" he chuckled. "And if one thought ahead, including a mare, doesn't take the other fellow's breath

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

I argued my proficiency so well that he did not refer to the matter again till Saturday, when he suggested

removing one whole cloth from the after leech. I guess it was the disappointment written on my face that

made him desist; for I, also, had a pride in my boat sailing abilities, and I was almost wild to get out alone

with the big sail and go tearing down the Carquinez Straits in the wake of the flying Greek.

As usual, Sunday and Demetrios Contos arrived together. It had become the regular thing for the fishermen to

assemble on Steamboat Wharf to greet his arrival and to laugh at our discomfiture. He lowered sail a couple

"I suppose this nonsense will keep up as long as his old net holds out," Charley grumbled, with intention, in

"Den I givea heem my olda neta," one of them spoke up, promptly and maliciously,

"I don't care," Charley answered. "I've got some old net myself he can have if he'll come around and ask for

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

"Well, so long, lad," Charley called to me a moment later. "I think I'll go uptown to Maloney's."

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

Demetrios pulled two large salmon out of his net, and I jumped into the boat. The fishermen crowded around

in a spirit of fun, and when I started to get up sail overwhelmed me with all sorts of jocular advice. They even

offered extravagant bets to one another that I would surely catch Demetrios, and two of them, styling

themselves the committee of judges, gravely asked permission to come along with me to see how I did it.

But I was in no hurry. I waited to give Charley all the time I could, and I pretended dissatisfaction with the

stretch of the sail and slightly shifted the small tackle by which the huge sprit forces up the peak. It was not

until I was sure that Charley had reached Dan Maloney's and was on the little mare's back, that I cast off from

the wharf and gave the big sail to the wind. A stout puff filled it and suddenly pressed the lee gunwale down

till a couple of buckets of water came inboard. A little thing like this will happen to the best smallboat

sailors, and yet, though I instantly let go the sheet and righted, I was cheered sarcastically, as though I had

When Demetrios saw only one person in the fish patrol boat, and that one a boy, he proceeded to play with

me. Making a short tack out, with me not thirty feet behind, he returned, with his sheet a little free, to

Steamboat Wharf. And there he made short tacks, and turned and twisted and ducked around, to the great

delight of his sympathetic audience. I was right behind him all the time, and I dared to do whatever he did,

even when he squared away before the wind and jibed his big sail over a most dangerous trick with such a

He depended upon the brisk sea breeze and the strong ebbtide, which together kicked up a nasty sea, to

bring me to grief. But I was on my mettle, and never in all my life did I sail a boat better than on that day. I

was keyed up to concert pitch, my brain was working smoothly and quickly, my hands never fumbled once,

and it seemed that I almost divined the thousand little things which a smallboat sailor must be taking into

It was Demetrios who came to grief instead. Something went wrong with his centreboard, so that it jammed

in the case and would not go all the way down. In a moment's breathing space, which he had gained from me

by a clever trick, I saw him working impatiently with the centreboard, trying to force it down. I gave him

The centreboard made him anxious. He gave over playing with me, and started on the long beat to Vallejo.

To my joy, on the first long tack across, I found that I could eat into the wind just a little bit closer than he.

Here was where another man in the boat would have been of value to him; for, with me but a few feet astern,

he did not dare let go the tiller and run amidships to try to force down the centreboard.

Unable to hang on as close in the eye of the wind as formerly, he proceeded to slack his sheet a trifle and to

ease off a bit, in order to outfoot me. This I permitted him to do till I had worked to windward, when I bore

down upon him. As I drew close, he feinted at coming about. This led me to shoot into the wind to forestall

him. But it was only a feint, cleverly executed, and he held back to his course while I hurried to make up lost

He was undeniably smarter than I when it came to manoeuvring. Time after time I all but had him, and each

time he tricked me and escaped. Besides, the wind was freshening, constantly, and each of us had his hands

full to avoid capsizing. As for my boat, it could not have been kept afloat but for the extra ballast. I sat

cocked over the weather gunwale, tiller in one hand and sheet in the other; and the sheet, with a single turn

around a pin, I was very often forced to let go in the severer puffs. This allowed the sail to spill the wind,

which was equivalent to taking off so much driving power, and of course I lost ground. My consolation was

The strong ebbtide, racing down the Straits in the teeth of the wind, caused an unusually heavy and spiteful

sea, which dashed aboard continually. I was dripping wet, and even the sail was wet halfway up the after

leech. Once I did succeed in outmanoeuvring Demetrios, so that my bow bumped into him amidships. Here

was where I should have had another man. Before I could run forward and leap aboard, he shoved the boats

We were now at the mouth of the Straits, in a bad stretch of water. Here the Vallejo Straits and the Carquinez

Straits rushed directly at each other. Through the first flowed all the water of Napa River and the great

tidelands; through the second flowed all the water of Suisun Bay and the Sacramento and San Joaquin

rivers. And where such immense bodies of water, flowing swiftly, clashed together, a terrible tiderip was

produced. To make it worse, the wind howled up San Pablo Bay for fifteen miles and drove in a tremendous

Conflicting currents tore about in all directions, colliding, forming whirlpools, sucks, and boils, and shooting

up spitefully into hollow waves which fell aboard as often from leeward as from windward. And through it

all, confused, driven into a madness of motion, thundered the great smoking seas from San Pablo Bay.

I was as wildly excited as the water. The boat was behaving splendidly, leaping and lurching through the

welter like a race horse. I could hardly contain myself with the joy of it. The huge sail, the howling wind,

the driving seas, the plunging boat I, a pygmy, a mere speck in the midst of it, was mastering the elemental

And just then, as I roared along like a conquering hero, the boat received a frightful smash and came instantly

to a dead stop. I was flung forward and into the bottom. As I sprang up I caught a fleeting glimpse of a

greenish, barnaclecovered object, and knew it at once for what it was, that terror of navigation, a sunken

pile. No man may guard against such a thing. Waterlogged and floating just beneath the surface, it was

The whole bow of the boat must have been crushed in, for in a few seconds the boat was half full. Then a

couple of seas filled it, and it sank straight down, dragged to bottom by the heavy ballast. So quickly did it all

happen that I was entangled in the sail and drawn under. When I fought my way to the surface, suffocating,

my lungs almost bursting, I could see nothing of the oars. They must have been swept away by the chaotic

currents. I saw Demetrios Contos looking back from his boat, and heard the vindictive and mocking tones of

his voice as he shouted exultantly. He held steadily on his course, leaving me to perish.

There was nothing to do but to swim for it, which, in that wild confusion, was at the best a matter of but a

few moments. Holding my breath and working with my hands, I managed to get off my heavy seaboots and

my jacket. Yet there was very little breath I could catch to hold, and I swiftly discovered that it was not so

I was beaten and buffeted, smashed under by the great San Pablo whitecaps, and strangled by the hollow

tiderip waves which flung themselves into my eyes, nose, and mouth. Then the strange sucks would grip my

legs and drag me under, to spout me up in some fierce boiling, where, even as I tried to catch my breath, a

It was impossible to survive any length of time. I was breathing more water than air, and drowning all the

time. My senses began to leave me, my head to whirl around. I struggled on, spasmodically, instinctively, and

was barely half conscious when I felt myself caught by the shoulders and hauled over the gunwale of a boat.

For some time I lay across a seat where I had been flung, face downward, and with the water running out of

my mouth. After a while, still weak and faint, I turned around to see who was my rescuer. And there, in the

stern, sheet in one hand and tiller in the other, grinning and nodding goodnaturedly, sat Demetrios Contos.

He had intended to leave me to drown, he said so afterward, but his better self had fought the battle,

A compliment from Demetrios Contos was a compliment indeed, and I keenly appreciated it, though I could

We held no more conversation, for I was busy recovering and he was busy with the boat. He ran in to the

wharf at Vallejo, made the boat fast, and helped me out. Then it was, as we both stood on the wharf, that

Charley stepped out from behind a netrack and put his hand on Demetrios Contos's arm.

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

A puzzled expression came into Charley's face, which cleared immediately after, in a way it had when he

"I can't help it, lad," he said kindly. "I can't go back on my duty, and it's plain duty to arrest him. Today is

Sunday; there are two salmon in his boat which he caught today. What else can I do?"

Demetrios Contos's face went black with rage when he learned Charley's judgment. He had a sense of being

unfairly treated. The better part of his nature had triumphed, he had performed a generous act and saved a

Charley and I were out of sorts with each other when we went back to Benicia. I stood for the spirit of the law

and not the letter; but by the letter Charley made his stand. As far as he could see, there was nothing else for

him to do. The law said distinctly that no salmon should be caught on Sunday. He was a patrolman, and it

was his duty to enforce that law. That was all there was to it. He had done his duty, and his conscience was

clear. Nevertheless, the whole thing seemed unjust to me, and I felt very sorry for Demetrios Contos.

Two days later we went down to Vallejo to the trial. I had to go along as a witness, and it was the most

hateful task that I ever performed in my life when I testified on the witness stand to seeing Demetrios catch

Demetrios had engaged a lawyer, but his case was hopeless. The jury was out only fifteen minutes, and

returned a verdict of guilty. The judge sentenced Demetrios to pay a fine of one hundred dollars or go to jail

Charley stepped up to the clerk of the court. "I want to pay that fine," he said, at the same time placing five

twentydollar gold pieces on the desk. "It it was the only way out of it, lad," he stammered, turning to me.

The moisture rushed into my eyes as I seized his hand. "I want to pay " I began.

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

Demetrios came over to shake Charley's hand, and all his warm Southern blood flamed in his face. Then, not

to be outdone in generosity, he insisted on paying his fine and lawyer's fee himself, and flew halfway into a

More than anything else we ever did, I think, this action of Charley's impressed upon the fishermen the

deeper significance of the law. Also Charley was raised high in their esteem, while I came in for a little share

of praise as a boy who knew how to sail a boat. Demetrios Contos not only never broke the law again, but he

became a very good friend of ours, and on more than one occasion he ran up to Benicia to have a gossip with

"I'm not wanting to dictate to you, lad," Charley said; "but I'm very much against your making a last raid.

You've gone safely through rough times with rough men, and it would be a shame to have something happen

"But how can I get out of making a last raid?" I demanded, with the cocksureness of youth. "There always

Charley crossed his legs, leaned back, and considered the problem. "Very true. But why not call the capture

of Demetrios Contos the last? You're back from it safe and sound and hearty, for all your good wetting, and

and " His voice broke and he could not speak for a moment. "And I could never forgive myself if anything

I laughed at Charley's fears while I gave in to the claims of his affection, and agreed to consider the last raid

already performed. We had been together for two years, and now I was leaving the fish patrol in order to go

back and finish my education. I had earned and saved money to put me through three years at the high school,

and though the beginning of the term was several months away, I intended doing a lot of studying for the

My belongings were packed snugly in a seachest, and I was all ready to buy my ticket and ride down on the

train to Oakland, when Neil Partington arrived in Benicia. The Reindeer was needed immediately for work

far down on the Lower Bay, and Neil said he intended to run straight for Oakland. As that was his home and

as I was to live with his family while going to school, he saw no reason, he said, why I should not put my

So the chest went aboard, and in the middle of the afternoon we hoisted the Reindeer's big mainsail and cast

off. It was tantalizing fall weather. The seabreeze, which had blown steadily all summer, was gone, and in

its place were capricious winds and murky skies which made the time of arriving anywhere extremely

problematical. We started on the first of the ebb, and as we slipped down the Carquinez Straits, I looked my

last for some time upon Benicia and the bight at Turner's Shipyard, where we had besieged the Lancashire

Queen, and had captured Big Alec, the King of the Greeks. And at the mouth of the Straits I looked with not a

little interest upon the spot where a few days before I should have drowned but for the good that was in the

A great wall of fog advanced across San Pablo Bay to meet us, and in a few minutes the Reindeer was

running blindly through the damp obscurity. Charley, who was steering, seemed to have an instinct for that

kind of work. How he did it, he himself confessed that he did not know; but he had a way of calculating

winds, currents, distance, time, drift, and sailing speed that was truly marvellous.

"It looks as though it were lifting," Neil Partington said, a couple of hours after we had entered the fog.

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

Charley pondered a moment, and then answered, "The tide has edged us over a bit out of our course, but if

the fog lifts right now, as it is going to lift, you'll find we're not more than a thousand miles off McNear's

"You might be a little more definite by a few miles, anyway," Neil grumbled, showing by his tone that he

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

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

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

The three of us were peering intently in that direction, when the Reindeer struck with a dull crash and came to

a standstill. We ran forward, and found her bowsprit entangled in the tanned rigging of a short, chunky mast.

At the moment we arrived forward, five Chinese, like so many bees, came swarming out of the little

Leading them came a big, muscular man, conspicuous for his pock marked face and the yellow silk

handkerchief swathed about his head. It was Yellow Handkerchief, the Chinaman whom we had arrested for

illegal shrimpfishing the year before, and who, at that time, had nearly sunk the Reindeer, as he had nearly

"What d'ye mean, you yellowfaced heathen, lying here in a fairway without a horn agoing?" Charley cried

Our eyes followed the direction indicated by Neil's finger, and we saw the open amidships of the junk, half

filled, as we found on closer examination, with freshcaught shrimps. Mingled with the shrimps were

Yellow Handkerchief had lifted the trapnet at highwater slack, and, taking advantage of the concealment

offered by the fog, had boldly been lying by, waiting to lift the net again at lowwater slack.

"Well," Neil hummed and hawed, "in all my varied and extensive experience as a fish patrolman, I must say

"Tow the junk into San Rafael, of course," came the answer. Charley turned to me. "You stand by the junk,

lad, and I'll pass you a towing line. If the wind doesn't fail us, we'll make the creek before the tide gets too

So saying, Charley and Neil returned to the Reindeer and got under way, the junk towing astern. I went aft

and took charge of the prize, steering by means of an antiquated tiller and a rudder with large,

By now the last of the fog had vanished, and Charley's estimate of our position was confirmed by the sight of

McNear's Landing a short halfmile away. Following along the west shore, we rounded Point Pedro in plain

view of the Chinese shrimp villages, and a great to do was raised when they saw one of their junks towing

The wind, coming off the land, was rather puffy and uncertain, and it would have been more to our advantage

had it been stronger. San Rafael Creek, up which we had to go to reach the town and turn over our prisoners

to the authorities, ran through widestretching marshes, and was difficult to navigate on a falling tide, while

at low tide it was impossible to navigate at all. So, with the tide already halfebbed, it was necessary for us to

make time. This the heavy junk prevented, lumbering along behind and holding the Reindeer back by just so

"Tell those coolies to get up that sail," Charley finally called to me. "We don't want to hang up on the mud

I repeated the order to Yellow Handkerchief, who mumbled it huskily to his men. He was suffering from a

bad cold, which doubled him up in convulsive coughing spells and made his eyes heavy and bloodshot. This

made him more evillooking than ever, and when he glared viciously at me I remembered with a shiver the

His crew sullenly tailed on to the halyards, and the strange, outlandish sail, lateen in rig and dyed a warm

brown, rose in the air. We were sailing on the wind, and when Yellow Handkerchief flattened down the sheet

the junk forged ahead and the towline went slack. Fast as the Reindeer could sail, the junk outsailed her; and

to avoid running her down I hauled a little closer on the wind. But the junk likewise outpointed, and in a

couple of minutes I was abreast of the Reindeer and to windward. The towline had now tautened, at right

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

At this Charley cast off, and Yellow Handkerchief sent one of his men forward to haul in the line. In the

gathering darkness I could just make out the mouth of San Rafael Creek, and by the time we entered it I could

barely see its banks. The Reindeer was fully five minutes astern, and we continued to leave her astern as we

beat up the narrow, winding channel. With Charley behind us, it seemed I had little to fear from my five

prisoners; but the darkness prevented my keeping a sharp eye on them, so I transferred my revolver from my

trousers pocket to the side pocket of my coat, where I could more quickly put my hand on it.

Yellow Handkerchief was the one I feared, and that he knew it and made use of it, subsequent events will

show. He was sitting a few feet away from me, on what then happened to be the weather side of the junk. I

could scarcely see the outlines of his form, but I soon became convinced that he was slowly, very slowly,

edging closer to me. I watched him carefully. Steering with my left hand, I slipped my right into my pocket

I saw him shift along for a couple of inches, and I was just about to order him back the words were

trembling on the tip of my tongue when I was struck with great force by a heavy figure that had leaped

through the air upon me from the lee side. It was one of the crew. He pinioned my right arm so that I could

not withdraw my hand from my pocket, and at the same time clapped his other hand over my mouth. Of

course, I could have struggled away from him and freed my hand or gotten my mouth clear so that I might

I struggled around to no purpose in the bottom of the junk, while my legs and arms were tied and my mouth

securely bound in what I afterward found to be a cotton shirt. Then I was left lying in the bottom. Yellow

Handkerchief took the tiller, issuing his orders in whispers; and from our position at the time, and from the

alteration of the sail, which I could dimly make out above me as a blot against the stars, I knew the junk was

being headed into the mouth of a small slough which emptied at that point into San Rafael Creek.

In a couple of minutes we ran softly alongside the bank, and the sail was silently lowered. The Chinese kept

very quiet. Yellow Handkerchief sat down in the bottom alongside of me, and I could feel him straining to

repress his raspy, hacking cough. Possibly seven or eight minutes later I heard Charley's voice as the

"I can't tell you how relieved I am," I could plainly hear him saying to Neil, "that the lad has finished with the

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

"The youngster takes naturally to the water, and if, when he finishes high school, he takes a course in

navigation and goes deep sea, I see no reason why he shouldn't rise to be master of the finest and biggest ship

It was all very flattering to me, but lying there, bound and gagged by my own prisoners, with the voices

growing faint and fainter as the Reindeer slipped on through the darkness toward San Rafael, I must say I was

not in quite the proper situation to enjoy my smiling future. With the Reindeer went my last hope. What was

to happen next I could not imagine, for the Chinese were a different race from mine, and from what I knew I

After waiting a few minutes longer, the crew hoisted the lateen sail, and Yellow Handkerchief steered down

toward the mouth of San Rafael Creek. The tide was getting lower, and he had difficulty in escaping the

mudbanks. I was hoping he would run aground, but he succeeded in making the Bay without accident.

As we passed out of the creek a noisy discussion arose, which I knew related to me. Yellow Handkerchief

was vehement, but the other four as vehemently opposed him. It was very evident that he advocated doing

away with me and that they were afraid of the consequences. I was familiar enough with the Chinese

character to know that fear alone restrained them. But what plan they offered in place of Yellow

My feelings, as my fate hung in the balance, may be guessed. The discussion developed into a quarrel, in the

midst of which Yellow Handkerchief unshipped the heavy tiller and sprang toward me. But his four

companions threw themselves between, and a clumsy struggle took place for possession of the tiller. In the

end Yellow Handkerchief was overcome, and sullenly returned to the steering, while they soundly berated

Not long after, the sail was run down and the junk slowly urged forward by means of the sweeps. I felt it

ground gently on the soft mud. Three of the Chinese they all wore long seaboots got over the side, and

the other two passed me across the rail. With Yellow Handkerchief at my legs and his two companions at my

shoulders, they began to flounder along through the mud. After some time their feet struck firmer footing,

and I knew they were carrying me up some beach. The location of this beach was not doubtful in my mind. It

could be none other than one of the Marin Islands, a group of rocky islets which lay off the Marin County

When they reached the firm sand that marked high tide, I was dropped, and none too gently. Yellow

Handkerchief kicked me spitefully in the ribs, and then the trio floundered back through the mud to the junk.

A moment later I heard the sail go up and slat in the wind as they drew in the sheet. Then silence fell, and I

I remembered having seen tricksters writhe and squirm out of ropes with which they were bound, but though

I writhed and squirmed like a good fellow, the knots remained as hard as ever, and there was no appreciable

slack. In the course of my squirming, however, I rolled over upon a heap of clamshells the remains,

evidently, of some yachting party's clambake. This gave me an idea. My hands were tied behind my back;

and, clutching a shell in them, I rolled over and over, up the beach, till I came to the rocks I knew to be there.

Rolling around and searching, I finally discovered a narrow crevice, into which I shoved the shell. The edge

of it was sharp, and across the sharp edge I proceeded to saw the rope that bound my wrists. The edge of the

shell was also brittle, and I broke it by bearing too heavily upon it. Then I rolled back to the heap and

returned with as many shells as I could carry in both hands. I broke many shells, cut my hands a number of

While I was suffering from the cramps, and resting, I heard a familiar halloo drift across the water. It was

Charley, searching for me. The gag in my mouth prevented me from replying, and I could only lie there,

helplessly fuming, while he rowed past the island and his voice slowly lost itself in the distance.

I returned to the sawing process, and at the end of half an hour succeeded in severing the rope. The rest was

easy. My hands once free, it was a matter of minutes to loosen my legs and to take the gag out of my mouth. I

ran around the island to make sure it was an island and not by any chance a portion of the mainland. An

island it certainly was, one of the Marin group, fringed with a sandy beach and surrounded by a sea of mud.

Nothing remained but to wait till daylight and to keep warm; for it was a cold, raw night for California, with

To keep up the circulation, I ran around the island a dozen times or so, and clambered across its rocky

backbone as many times more all of which was of greater service to me, as I afterward discovered, than

merely to warm me up. In the midst of this exercise I wondered if I had lost anything out of my pockets while

rolling over and over in the sand. A search showed the absence of my revolver and pocketknife. The first

I was hunting for it when the sound of rowlocks came to my ears. At first, of course, I thought of Charley; but

on second thought I knew Charley would be calling out as he rowed along. A sudden premonition of danger

seized me. The Marin Islands are lonely places; chance visitors in the dead of night are hardly to be expected.

What if it were Yellow Handkerchief? The sound made by the rowlocks grew more distinct. I crouched in the

sand and listened intently. The boat, which I judged a small skiff from the quick stroke of the oars, was

landing in the mud about fifty yards up the beach. I heard a raspy, hacking cough, and my heart stood still. It

was Yellow Handkerchief. Not to be robbed of his revenge by his more cautious companions, he had stolen

I did some swift thinking. I was unarmed and helpless on a tiny islet, and a yellow barbarian, whom I had

reason to fear, was coming after me. Any place was safer than the island, and I turned instinctively to the

water, or rather to the mud. As he began to flounder ashore through the mud, I started to flounder out into it,

going over the same course which the Chinese had taken in landing me and in returning to the junk.

Yellow Handkerchief, believing me to be lying tightly bound, exercised no care, but came ashore noisily.

This helped me, for, under the shield of his noise and making no more myself than necessary, I managed to

cover fifty feet by the time he had made the beach. Here I lay down in the mud. It was cold and clammy, and

made me shiver, but I did not care to stand up and run the risk of being discovered by his sharp eyes.

He walked down the beach straight to where he had left me lying, and I had a fleeting feeling of regret at not

being able to see his surprise when he did not find me. But it was a very fleeting regret, for my teeth were

What his movements were after that I had largely to deduce from the facts of the situation, for I could

scarcely see him in the dim starlight. But I was sure that the first thing he did was to make the circuit of the

beach to learn if landings had been made by other boats. This he would have known at once by the tracks

Convinced that no boat had removed me from the island, he next started to find out what had become of me.

Beginning at the pile of clamshells, he lighted matches to trace my tracks in the sand. At such times I could

see his villanous face plainly, and, when the sulphur from the matches irritated his lungs, between the raspy

cough that followed and the clammy mud in which I was lying, I confess I shivered harder than ever.

The multiplicity of my footprints puzzled him. Then the idea that I might be out in the mud must have struck

him, for he waded out a few yards in my direction, and, stooping, with his eyes searched the dim surface long

and carefully. He could not have been more than fifteen feet from me, and had he lighted a match he would

He returned to the beach and clambered about, over the rocky backbone, again hunting for me with lighted

matches, The closeness of the shave impelled me to further flight. Not daring to wade upright, on account of

the noise made by floundering and by the suck of the mud, I remained lying down in the mud and propelled

myself over its surface by means of my hands. Still keeping the trail made by the Chinese in going from and

to the junk, I held on until I reached the water. Into this I waded to a depth of three feet, and then I turned off

The thought came to me of going toward Yellow Handkerchief's skiff and escaping in it, but at that very

moment he returned to the beach, and, as though fearing the very thing I had in mind, he slushed out through

the mud to assure himself that the skiff was safe. This turned me in the opposite direction. Half swimming,

half wading, with my head just out of water and avoiding splashing, I succeeded in putting about a hundred

feet between myself and the spot where the Chinese had begun to wade ashore from the junk. I drew myself

Again Yellow Handkerchief returned to the beach and made a search of the island, and again he returned to

the heap of clamshells. I knew what was running in his mind as well as he did himself. No one could leave

or land without making tracks in the mud. The only tracks to be seen were those leading from his skiff and

from where the junk had been. I was not on the island. I must have left it by one or the other of those two

tracks. He had just been over the one to his skiff, and was certain I had not left that way. Therefore I could

have left the island only by going over the tracks of the junk landing. This he proceeded to verify by wading

When he arrived at the point where I had first lain, I knew, by the matches he burned and the time he took,

that he had discovered the marks left by my body. These he followed straight to the water and into it, but in

three feet of water he could no longer see them. On the other hand, as the tide was still falling, he could easily

make out the impression made by the junk's bow, and could have likewise made out the impression of any

other boat if it had landed at that particular spot. But there was no such mark; and I knew that he was

But to hunt on a dark night for a boy in a sea of mud would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack, and he

did not attempt it. Instead he went back to the beach and prowled around for some time. I was hoping he

would give me up and go, for by this time I was suffering severely from the cold. At last he waded out to his

skiff and rowed away. What if this departure of Yellow Handkerchief's were a sham? What if he had done it

The more I thought of it the more certain I became that he had made a little too much noise with his oars as

he rowed away. So I remained, lying in the mud and shivering. I shivered till the muscles of the small of my

back ached and pained me as badly as the cold, and I had need of all my selfcontrol to force myself to

It was well that I did, however, for, possibly an hour later, I thought I could make out something moving on

the beach. I watched intently, but my ears were rewarded first, by a raspy cough I knew only too well. Yellow

Handkerchief had sneaked back, landed on the other side of the island, and crept around to surprise me if I

After that, though hours passed without sign of him, I was afraid to return to the island at all. On the other

hand, I was almost equally afraid that I should die of the exposure I was undergoing. I had never dreamed one

could suffer so. I grew so cold and numb, finally, that I ceased to shiver. But my muscles and bones began to

ache in a way that was agony. The tide had long since begun to rise, and, foot by foot, it drove me in toward

the beach. High water came at three o'clock, and at three o'clock I drew myself up on the beach, more dead

than alive, and too helpless to have offered any resistance had Yellow Handkerchief swooped down upon me.

But no Yellow Handkerchief appeared. He had given me up and gone back to Point Pedro. Nevertheless, I

was in a deplorable, not to say dangerous, condition. I could not stand upon my feet, much less walk. My

clammy, muddy garments clung to me like sheets of ice. I thought I should never get them off. So numb and

lifeless were my fingers, and so weak was I, that it seemed to take an hour to get off my shoes. I had not the

strength to break the porpoise hide laces, and the knots defied me. I repeatedly beat my hands upon the

rocks to get some sort of life into them. Sometimes I felt sure I was going to die.

But in the end, after several centuries, it seemed to me, I got off the last of my clothes. The water was

now close at hand, and I crawled painfully into it and washed the mud from my naked body. Still, I could not

get on my feet and walk and I was afraid to lie still. Nothing remained but to crawl weakly, like a snail, and at

the cost of constant pain, up and down the sand. I kept this up as long as possible, but as the east paled with

the coming of dawn I began to succumb. The sky grew rosyred, and the golden rim of the sun, showing

As in a dream, I saw the familiar mainsail of the Reindeer as she slipped out of San Rafael Creek on a light

puff of morning air. This dream was very much broken. There are intervals I can never recollect on looking

back over it. Three things, however, I distinctly remember: the first sight of the Reindeer's mainsail; her lying

at anchor a few hundred feet away and a small boat leaving her side; and the cabin stove roaring redhot,

myself swathed all over with blankets, except on the chest and shoulders, which Charley was pounding and

mauling unmercifully, and my mouth and throat burning with the coffee which Neil Partington was pouring

But burn or no burn, I tell you it felt good. By the time we arrived in Oakland I was as limber and strong as

ever, though Charlie and Neil Partington were afraid I was going to have pneumonia, and Mrs. Partington,

for my first six months of school, kept an anxious eye upon me to discover the first symptoms of

Time flies. It seems but yesterday that I was a lad of sixteen on the fish patrol. Yet I know that I arrived this

very morning from China, with a quick passage to my credit, and master of the barkentine Harvester. And I

know that tomorrow morning I shall run over to Oakland to see Neil Partington and his wife and family, and

later on up to Benicia to see Charley Le Grant and talk over old times. No; I shall not go to Benicia, now that

I think about it. I expect to be a highly interested party to a wedding, shortly to take place. Her name is Alice

Partington, and, since Charley has promised to be best man, he will have to come down to Oakland instead.