El Diablo

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

  Everything was coming his way. Kenneth Gregory glanced again at hisfirst balance-sheet. The cannery had been in operation but a singlemonth and already the business was exceeding his fondest expectations.He glanced at the chart which hung by his side. Forty-two completelyequipped fishing-boats in the water and every one fully manned. Hesmiled as he thought of Dickie Lang's astonishment at the manner inwhich the ex-navy men had taken hold of the work.

  His smile broadened too as he noted the receipts from the fresh fish andthe canned product. Fishing had sure been good. And there had beenlittle or no interference from Mascola. Since the day when Dickie hadaccepted his proposition all had gone smoothly. Gregory attributed hissuccess to the carrying out of an idea. It had worked. It had to work.And it was _his_ idea.

  On the floor of the cannery, Dickie Lang was also analyzing thephenomenal success of the Legonia Fish Cannery while she waited for theowner to accompany her on their daily cruise to the fishing grounds.

  "I'll tell you, Jack, it gets my goat how things began to pick up thevery minute I threw up my contract. He's had nothing but luck eversince."

  "I wouldn't say that, Dick," McCoy objected. "The boss's idea was worthsomething. Of course I----"

  "Oh, rats! I'm sick of hearing everybody talking about an idea. Allthese fellows in here think that Kenneth Gregory can't make a mistake.They think that nobody else could have done what he did."

  "That's what you want fellows to think who are working for you, isn'tit?" ventured McCoy.

  Dickie gasped. Had McCoy too fallen a victim to hero-worship? McCoy, whohad been her loyal friend, and servant? She determined to find out towhat extent he had transferred his allegiance.

  "Do you think Mr. Gregory did any more than I could have done?" sheflashed.

  McCoy endeavored to temporize. "Well, in a way he didn't," he said, "andthen again he did. You see----"

  But Dickie refused to see. Whirling angrily, she walked rapidly towardthe office. Anything to get away from hearing Gregory's praises chantedfrom every lip. Better be with the idol himself than his devoutfollowers. She flung open the door and entered the office. Gregory facedher with a smile. A self-satisfied smile, the girl thought. In his handwas a paper.

  "Look at that," he exclaimed. "My idea has worked out a lot better thanI anticipated."

  Dickie glanced coldly at the sheet but made no effort to take it fromhis hand. Looking him full in the eye, she observed:

  "I'm about caught up with that idea of yours. I don't see that there isanything in it to cause any one to get the swelled-head."

  "Who's getting the swelled-head?" demanded Gregory, the smile passingfrom his face.

  "Well, I'm not," retorted the girl, laying special stress on thepronoun. "I've seen too much of this game to have my head turned by alittle luck."

  Gregory overlooked the implication and admitted soberly:

  "Yes, we sure have had luck. There's no denying that. I never had anyidea the boys would take to the game the way they have."

  "They wouldn't if it hadn't been for my fishermen taking all the troublethey did with them. Why, a lot of those fellows were seasick when theyfirst came down here. They were 'rocking-chair sailors.' My men madethem what they are. I don't see any luck in that."

  Gregory smiled provokingly.

  "No, I don't suppose there was," he said. "What I meant was I was luckyin getting hold of men who really wanted to learn. You've admittedseveral times that they got along faster than you had any idea theywould."

  "Anybody could catch fish the way they've been running the last fewweeks," evaded Dickie. "I never saw anything like it before. Nearlyevery boat comes in with a good haul. And when the local market wasglutted at Port Angeles, you shot them up north and just tumbled on to agood market as Frisco was out of fish. That was nothing but luck," shechallenged.

  "And now we have orders for all canned stuff we can turn out," Gregoryput in.

  "Sure you have. From the Western outfit. I wouldn't trust them out ofsight with a case of fish. They'll eat the stuff up as long as you canthrow it to them in big lots. That gives them a chance to beat you downon the price. The first bad run of luck you have, they'll drop you cold.I know. They did the same thing with your father the very first time hebegan to fall down on his output."

  "Yes, but----"

  "You're not going to fall down." She took the words from his mouth andhurried on: "That is just what I was afraid of. Your luck has gone toyour head. You have an idea things are always going to be like this. Iknow better. And you'll know before you get through. The fish are liableto head out to sea any day."

  "You guessed wrong about what I was going to say," Gregory announced. "Iwas going to tell you I had an order from Winfield & Camby for ashipment of albacore if we can get them out right away. Suppose thefish do run to sea," he went on. "I'll back you to find them if any onecan. And we're well equipped now to follow them up."

  Dickie was somewhat mollified but she took care not to show it.

  "You're not figuring on Mascola either," she began.

  "Mascola," Gregory repeated. "Why, he's been decent enough the last twoor three weeks."

  "I know it," she interrupted. "That's what has me guessing. It isn'tlike Mascola to be that way. He's been checking up on us right along,but he hasn't bothered any of our boats since he lost the _Roma_. It'sabout time he showed his hand."

  "We have nearly as many boats as he has now," Gregory observed. "Maybehe thinks----"

  Again the girl anticipated his words.

  "Get that out of your head," she snapped. "If you think Mascola's quit,you're wrong. The more boats dad got, the harder Mascola fought him.It's only when an outfit gets big enough to make a showing that hebegins to get busy."

  "We'll have the rest of the cannery boats out the last of the week,"Gregory announced. "I'll have the boys rush them. We won't startanything, but just get good and ready. It's Mascola's move. I've made itperfectly clear to all the men that we are not looking for trouble."

  Dickie was silent for a moment. Then she said:

  "I have an idea that Rock gave Mascola a 'bum steer' and that both ofthem are just beginning to find out their mistake."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that Rock guessed wrong. He told a lot of people around townwhen you opened up that you'd be broke in thirty days. He and Mascolaare pretty thick and the chances are he told Mascola the same thing andthe dago believed him. Now they're beginning to find out they slipped upin not trying to cripple you before you got your men broken in. I'vejust got a hunch it won't be long before we hear from Mascola. He'sbringing more boats in here every day from down the coast and theislands."

  Seeing they were getting nowhere by their talk, Gregory tossed thebalance sheet to the desk and got to his feet.

  "We'd better be on our way," he said.

  With Dickie following, he lead the way out into the cannery where hestopped for a moment to speak to McCoy. "I'm going outside for a while,Mac. If the Western people call up, tell them we're shipping the last ofthose sardines to-day. Sound them out on albacore prices in job lots."

  Dickie turned away at the mention of the jobbers. Gregory evidentlythought very little of her advice. Biting her lips, she walked to thedoor to wait on the receiving platform. McCoy watched his employerfollow after her. Dick was sore at him. He'd have to go up to the housethis evening and try to square himself. She was evidently sore atGregory, too. And in that thought, McCoy derived some consolation.

  With the crisp sea air fanning their faces as they headed out to sea,Dickie's irritability vanished. Desirous of starting conversation aftera protracted silence, she began: "Who do you think I saw down-town theother day?"

  Gregory could not guess. "I was in the bank," she began after a moment,hoping Gregory would not notice that at times she did frequent Rock'sinstitution. "And that crazy fool, Boris, was in there trying to borrowsome money. He's been hanging round town ever s
ince Mascola fired him.When I've seen him he's been drunk on Japanese _sake_. He has it in forme because all the fishermen kid him about being run on the rocks by agirl. When I stepped back from the teller's window, Boris lunged againstme and started to mumble something. But before he had hardly opened hismouth, a well-dressed man came from somewhere and threw him half acrossthe room. And who do you think it was?"

  Again Gregory shook his head.

  "Bandrist."

  As Gregory voiced his surprise, the girl went on:

  "You wouldn't have known him. He was all dolled-up and looked like adifferent man. He knew me all right and he had the nerve to ask me if hecould come to see me," she concluded.

  Gregory's dislike of Bandrist increased.

  "What did you tell him?" he asked.

  Dickie laughed.

  "I told him I wasn't any more anxious to receive callers at my home thanhe was at his."

  Gregory wondered if the caustic answer to Bandrist might have beenretailed for his own benefit. He reflected suddenly that Dickie Lang hadnever so much as intimated that he would be a welcome guest at her home.Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. He had never bothered thegirl, and never would.

  "Bandrist is no ordinary sheep-man," she went on. "And I know it. He'sworking some kind of a game over there that he doesn't want people tobutt in on." She paused abruptly and her eyes narrowed. "I wonder," shebegan, but left her sentence unfinished as she noticed that Gregory wasregarding her curiously.

  "What?" he prompted.

  "Nothing," she said. "Maybe some day I'll tell you. But not now."

  Gregory knew her well enough to know that nothing could be gained byurging. During the silence that fell upon them the minds of both wereworking in parallel grooves, groping for a way of light to lighten thedarkness of an unsolved mystery. When they reached the albacore banksand sighted the vanguard of the fishing fleet, both came back sharply,back from the maze of doubt and intangible suspicions which cloudedtheir brains as the fog had clouded the island that held their thoughts.

  Making the rounds of the albacore fishermen the truth of the girl'spessimistic prophecy became strikingly apparent. The fish hadundoubtedly taken to sea. Laying-to to check one of the last of the fewremaining boats which rode at anchor, Dickie consulted her tally-sheetand shook her head.

  "Not much in this," she averred. "It's a losing game so far. And there'sonly Big Jack with the _Albatross_ yet to hear from. We ought to findhim cruising off the seal rocks. He's generally the first out and thelast to come in. He never gives up while there's a chance left. I'veseen him 'chumming' for albacore all day and then bring in a bunch hoursafter everybody else had given up."

  As they drew near the _Albatross_ she hailed the fisherman: "How are thefish, Jack?"

  Big Jack continued throwing the live bait from the tanks into the water.Then he straightened up and hitched at his suspender.

  "They're beginnin' to come in like hell," he bellowed.

  The fisherman was right. Gregory looked over the rail and gasped withwonderment. The sea about them was literally alive with fish. The lineswhich flashed over the side of the _Albatross_ scarcely touched thewater before the fish struck.

  Dickie's eyes snapped at the sight.

  "Put her about," she cried to Gregory. "And beat it as fast as you canfor home. We'll make a killing if we can just overhaul enough of theboys to get in on the run. Load up, Jack," she called as the vesselswung about. "Cruise up and down and keep 'chumming' so we won't losethem. We're going after the fleet. Pound her for all she'll stand," sheinstructed Gregory. "Every minute means money."

  They had been running only a few minutes when they sighted Mascola'sspeed-boat astern. The girl frowned as the _Fuor d'Italia_ roared by ina swirl of white water.

  "This is where speed counts," she exclaimed. "If Mascola tumbles on toBig Jack he'll have his gang around the _Albatross_ before we can getwithin hailing distance of our nearest boat."

  Gregory watched the rapidly disappearing speed-boat anxiously. It was onhis tongue to tell the girl of the launch Joe Barrows was building forhim at Port Angeles, a craft which the boat-builder guaranteed in thecontract would beat the boat he had built for the Italian.

  "Keeping in close touch is everything in this business," Dickieobserved. "Fish come in bunches. The ocean's spotted like achecker-board. You may have one boat loading up and another right aroundthe next point doing nothing. That's where Mascola wins out," sheexclaimed. "He scouts round and tips his fleet off if you've anythinggood. Then they're down on you like a flock of gulls."

  Before they caught up with the stragglers of the cannery fleet theysighted the alien fishing-boats coming in their direction. Dickie's browwas overcast.

  "Just what I was afraid of," she cried. "He's tipped them off. We'regoing to lose a lot to-day on account of not being able to keep closertogether and being shy on a fast boat. You might as well get the idea offilling that albacore order out of your head right now."

  As they overhauled the cannery boats and headed them back to the sealrocks, Gregory considered the girl's words about keeping in closertouch. If he was going to beat Mascola, he'd have to get there first.The speed-launch which Barrows was building for him would serve as asignal boat, but even that would not serve to keep the other boats inconstant touch with one another. Before they reached the last of theavailable boats they met Mascola coming back. While the girl stormed attheir helplessness to cope with the situation, Gregory spoke inmonosyllables and wrestled with his problem.

  He considered the methods of communication employed by the army inconnecting the various units. One by one he discarded them. Thesemaphore would serve only for short distances and then only when theboats were within sight of each other. The same argument would applyagainst the wig-wag. The heliograph would be useless in stormy weatheror in fog. A fast launch would help out, but even that would notcompletely solve the difficulty. How did boats keep in touch with oneanother? The answer came at once. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

  When they came in sight of the seal rocks they saw the masts of the twofleets clustered thickly about the _Albatross_.

  "Look at that," snapped the girl. "Now, maybe you'll believe I know whatI'm talking about. We were asleep and Mascola's beat us to it. It won'ttake him long to fish them out with an outfit like that. He's got ourboats on the outside now, taking what's left."

  Gregory saw that she was right. Mascola's boats were crowded closelyabout the _Albatross_ and his own fleet was completely fenced off.

  "What did I tell you? He's got them already. Look! He's ready to move.While we've been crawling along in this old tub, he's cleaned up."

  The alien fleet began to get under way as she spoke and headed about.Darting past his boats came Mascola. Noting the tardy arrival of theoncoming launch, he made straight for them. Slowing down, he drifted bywith his white teeth flashing in an insolent smile. Then he opened thethrottle and the _Fuor d'Italia_ leaped forward and raced away with anangry roar.

  When they reached the _Albatross_, Big Jack was apoplectic with rage. Itwas some minutes before he could master his speech sufficiently toexplain the situation. Mascola had arrived when they were hardly out ofsight, had watched them pulling in the fish and had gone at once tosummon his boats. The aliens had come upon him from around the point inever-increasing numbers. Had hedged him and taken his school. When thecannery boats arrived the albacore quit biting and took to otherwaters.

  Dickie Lang issued orders for the return of the fleet to Legonia. Thenshe vented her wrath on Kenneth Gregory.

  "So you thought you had Mascola beaten, did you? What did I tell you?Didn't I say he'd come back at the first chance? Albacore fishing iswhere he's always been strong. And that's about all there is from nowon. We've got to come alive and forget these ideas and get down to brasstacks. Mascola beat us hands down and we couldn't lift a finger to stophim. What are you going to do about it? That's what I want to know."

  Gregory curbed his rising anger and answered qu
ietly:

  "Before I tell you what I'm going to do, I'd like to ask you a question.What could we have done legally to break through Mascola's fence?"

  "Nothing. That's where he had us. He got there first. To get in to thefish we'd have had to ram his boats and he'd have you up before thelocal inspectors in no time if you had done that. If he had laid hisnets around ours it would have been different. You could demand sea-wayand run through them if he didn't move. But this way he had us over abarrel. And he knew it. It's a trick no white man would do. But I guesseven you will admit now that there isn't a drop of white blood in thatdago's body."

  "Then about the only way we could have beaten him," pursued Gregory,"would have been to have got there first and covered our own boats. Isthat right?"

  "Yes. But that is not so easy as it sounds."

  "It is not so hard either," Gregory went on. "I have an idea that Ithink will work out all right."

  Dickie's eyes flashed.

  "Forget your ideas!" she snapped. "You've got to have a whole lot morethan ideas when you start out to beat Mascola."

  Gregory felt his patience oozing from him at her words. It was badenough to lose an order from a firm he hoped to get in strong with,without the girl rubbing it in.

  "You haven't done anything yet but find fault," he said. "You have beenat this game a lot longer than I have. Maybe you have something tosuggest."

  Something in his voice caused Dickie to quiet down. She began to castabout in her mind for an answer.

  "You've got to keep your boats in closer touch," she began. "So Mascolacan't work this same deal on us again."

  "That is exactly what I am going to do."

  "You'll have to show me."

  "I will. I'm going to show you and Mascola both. By wireless."

  Before she could interrupt, he hurried on: "Listen. Half of these navymen know the International code. The others can learn easy enough withsome one to teach them who has worked at a radio key. I have several whohave done that and can rig the sets."

  "You must think you're a millionaire. You aren't running a line ofsteamships. Come down to----"

  "The sets won't cost much," Gregory went on calmly. "If they did allthese kids along the shore wouldn't have them. A fifty orone-hundred-mile radius would be enough for us. And it wouldn't takethem long to pay for themselves. If we had had the boats equipped withradio outfits to-day we could have beaten Mascola at his own game. WhenBig Jack 'chummed' up the albacore the rest of our boats would haveknown it before Mascola got there. The fish he caught to-day would payfor quite a few sets."

  "It would pay for itself in another way if it would work," supplementedDickie, much to Gregory's surprise. "Lots of times a boat breaks downand drifts on to a reef. If she could get word to some one close by theycould take her in tow or even pull her off before she was hurt much."

  Discussing the pros and cons of the new idea, they took their way towardLegonia. When they arrived at the Lang wharf the girl grudginglyadmitted that the plan might work. At least it might justify a trial.Leaving Dickie at her own dock Gregory was about to proceed up the bayto the cannery wharf when she came over to the rail and exclaimed in alow voice:

  "Oh, yes. Another thing. I didn't have a chance to look at thatstatement you had this morning. If you're not too busy to-night, youmight bring it up to the house."