Tales of the Fish Patrol | Page 3

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

the order fiercely (much more fiercely than I felt), at the same time
sending my hand to my hip. Again the Yellow Handkerchief was
overawed, and with surly looks he led three of his men aboard the
Reindeer. I cast off at once, and, leaving the jib down, steered a course
for George's junk. Here it was easier, for there were two of us, and
George had a pistol to fall back on if it came to the worst. And here, as
with my junk, four Chinese were transferred to the sloop and one left
behind to take care of things.
Four more were added to our passenger list from the third junk. By this
time the salmon boat had collected its twelve prisoners and came
alongside, badly overloaded. To make matters worse, as it was a small
boat, the patrolmen were so jammed in with their prisoners that they
would have little chance in case of trouble.
"You'll have to help us out," said Le Grant.
I looked over my prisoners, who had crowded into the cabin and on top
of it. "I can take three," I answered.
"Make it four," he suggested, "and I'll take Bill with me." (Bill was the
third patrolman.) "We haven't elbow room here, and in case of a scuffle
one white to every two of them will be just about the right proportion."
The exchange was made, and the salmon boat got up its spritsail and
headed down the bay toward the marshes off San Rafael. I ran up the
jib and followed with the Reindeer. San Rafael, where we were to turn
our catch over to the authorities, communicated with the bay by way of
a long and tortuous slough, or marshland creek, which could be
navigated only when the tide was in. Slack water had come, and, as the
ebb was commencing, there was need for hurry if we cared to escape
waiting half a day for the next tide.
But the land breeze had begun to die away with the rising sun, and now
came only in failing puffs. The salmon boat got out its oars and soon
left us far astern. Some of the Chinese stood in the forward part of the
cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as I leaned over the cockpit rail
to flatten down the jib-sheet a bit, I felt some one brush against my hip

pocket. I made no sign, but out of the corner of my eye I saw that the
Yellow Handkerchief had discovered the emptiness of the pocket which
had hitherto overawed him.
To make matters serious, during all the excitement of boarding the
junks the Reindeer had not been bailed, and the water was beginning to
slush over the cockpit floor. The shrimp-catchers pointed at it and
looked to me questioningly.
"Yes," I said. "Bime by, allee same dlown, velly quick, you no bail now.
Sabbe?"
No, they did not "sabbe," or at least they shook their heads to that effect,
though they chattered most comprehendingly to one another in their
own lingo. I pulled up three or four of the bottom boards, got a couple
of buckets from a locker, and by unmistakable sign-language invited
them to fall to. But they laughed, and some crowded into the cabin and
some climbed up on top.
Their laughter was not good laughter. There was a hint of menace in it,
a maliciousness which their black looks verified. The Yellow
Handkerchief, since his discovery of my empty pocket, had become
most insolent in his bearing, and he wormed about among the other
prisoners, talking to them with great earnestness.
Swallowing my chagrin, I stepped down into the cockpit and began
throwing out the water. But hardly had I begun, when the boom swung
overhead, the mainsail filled with a jerk, and the Reindeer heeled over.
The day wind was springing up. George was the veriest of landlubbers,
so I was forced to give over bailing and take the tiller. The wind was
blowing directly off Point Pedro and the high mountains behind, and
because of this was squally and uncertain, half the time bellying the
canvas out and the other half flapping it idly.
George was about the most all-round helpless man I had ever met.
Among his other disabilities, he was a consumptive, and I knew that if
he attempted to bail, it might bring on a hemorrhage. Yet the rising
water warned me that something must be done. Again I ordered the

shrimp-catchers to lend a hand with the buckets. They laughed
defiantly, and those inside the cabin, the water up to their ankles,
shouted back and forth with those