El Diablo, Page 5

  CHAPTER V

  THE WAY OF THE GULL

  Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r.

  The alarm-clock announced the hour imperiously, triumphantly, theimportance of the day being manifest in its resonant warning.

  Kenneth Gregory leaped from his bed and hastily donned a brand-new suitof overalls. A young man's first business engagement was not lightly tobe passed over. Particularly when it promised a chance for excitementand new adventure. He dressed quickly and hurried out into the street.With difficulty he stumbled through the dark streets and groped his wayalong the water-front to the Lang wharf. All about him was darkness,opaque and impenetrable.

  "You're early."

  Gregory found himself blinking into the white light of an electrictorch. By his side stood Dickie Lang.

  "Yes," he answered. "Wasn't sure whether my clock was right so I set ithalf an hour ahead."

  Still holding him in the rays of the light, the girl examined himcritically.

  "All right but your shoes," she announced. "You'll break your neck inthose leather soles. I'll see if I can rustle a pair of tennis-shoes."

  She vanished suddenly and a moment later he saw her light fall upon theburly figures of three bare-footed fishermen shuffling along the dock.She greeted the men familiarly.

  "Got that coil for you, Tom. Cache it this time where those thievingdevils won't beat you to it. Coils are hard to get right now. Bill,you'd better run down Lucas way and scout around for barracuda. Theywere beginning to hit in there strong this time last year. How's thebaby? I phoned to town last night for that medicine I told you about.They said they'd shoot it out on the first mail."

  As she spoke Gregory saw other shadows draw near and hover for a momentin the circle of light. From the hillside above the town lights gleamedfrom the windows of the fishing colony, the intervening spaces ofdarkness narrowing second by second until the village stood out like agreat checker-board of lights and shadows. Against the background oflights he could see the slender figure of the girl passing among thehuge fishermen who towered like giants above her. Radiating energywherever she went, criticizing some, commending others and joking awaythe early-morning grouch, she directed the movements of the constantlyincreasing stream of men who thronged the dock and despatched the boatsone by one into the darkness.

  When she returned to Gregory's side for a moment she held in her hand atattered pair of rubber-soled shoes. "They're better than nothing," sheexplained. "When you are a full-fledged fisherman you won't need shoes.You'll get so you can use your toes like fingers and----"

  The rays of her flash-light, which swept the wharf as she spoke,suddenly brought into view the figure of a man lunging unsteadily alongthe dock. Leaving her sentence unfinished, she was by his side in aninstant.

  "Nothing doing, Jack. Go home and go to bed. I know all about yourwife's sick aunt. No time to listen now. If you're sober by afternoonyou can go out with the boys drifting."

  The fisherman started to expostulate but she had already left him.Mumbling that she didn't know what sickness was, he stumbled obedientlyaway in the direction of the shore.

  "He's been drunk since Tuesday," she announced as she rejoined Gregory."Too bad, too. Best man I've got in shallow water. You ought to see himhandle a dory in the surf."

  Again the light picked out a newcomer who stood hesitating a few feetaway. "What's the trouble, Pete? Why aren't you on the job?"

  "I've got to have more money." The words were spoken boldly and in atone which drew the attention of all about. A number of fishermenshuffled nearer the speaker and ranged themselves beyond the circle oflight within easy hearing distance.

  "You want more money," Dickie Lang repeated slowly. "Well about the onlyreason I could ever think of for paying you any more would be for yournerve in asking for it. Why, I've lost more through your carelessnesssince you've been on the job than I could make on you in six months. Thefirst shot out of the box you let a piece of barracuda-webbing go adriftand Mascola's gang picked it up right before your eyes and you nevercheeped. Then you put one of my motors on the blink because you were toolazy to watch the oil-feed. Where do you think I get off? How long couldI run this outfit if all my men were like you? Take a brace and comealive, Pete. That's the way to get more money out of me or any one else.The harder you hit the ball the more you'll get. I don't want to hog itall. The boys will tell you I shoot square."

  The fisherman slunk sullenly away and joined his companions. Dickie Langturned again to Gregory.

  "That's one of the things I'm up against," she exclaimed in a low voice."That fellow is a regular agitator. Talking is his long suit. Why, hedidn't even know how to throw a bowline when he hit in here, flat brokeand down on his uppers. I've taught him all he knows. And now he'strying to start something. If men weren't so scarce I'd can him in aminute."

  Gregory watched the fleet embark, marveling at the manner in which theburly fishermen took orders from a mere slip of a girl. How it must goagainst their grain, he thought, to be bossed about by a woman. Thelast of the boats had cleared before the youthful commodore prepared tofollow.

  "Let's go," she exclaimed impatiently. "We're late now. Mascola's outfitcleared two hours ago."

  Leading the way she took Gregory aboard a small fishing vessel whichwaited at the float below. The motor started the instant their feettouched the deck and a gruff voice growled:

  "We've got to go some to make the point by daybreak."

  The girl nodded to the dark form at the wheel.

  "You said it, Tom. Mascola's gang are mighty near down there by now."

  She cast off the lines and jumped again to the boat as the little craftbacked from the slip and headed down the bay. While the boat gainedheadway under the rapid pulse of the powerful motor, she explained:

  "Got a string of nets off Long Point. Just put them out yesterday. ButI've a pretty good idea we'll load up. That is unless Mascola tries tosew us up. One of his fishing captains was cruising round last nightwhen I left the set."

  "But if you had your nets out first," Gregory began.

  A low laugh from the girl interrupted him. "You don't know how Mascoladoes business," she said. "Listen, I'll tell you. Did you ever noticethem throw garbage overboard from the deck of a steamer and see one lonegull flying in her wake? The minute he squawks and swoops down to pickit up there's a hundred of them come from all points of the compass tofight it out with him for the spoils. Well, Mascola's men are just likethat. We may spot the fish first. We generally do. But that doesn't makethe slightest bit of difference to Mascola. It only saves him thetrouble. When our nets are out and he sees we're getting a good haul, helays around us and cuts us off. Do you get the idea?"

  Gregory nodded vaguely.

  "But can't you do something?" he asked. "I should think----"

  Again the girl laughed. "You bet I can do something," she snapped. "Youjust watch me. That's what I brought you out here for this morning. Ifthose devils try to lay around me, I'll show them a thing or two. I wishwe had an earlier start though," she concluded. "They've got the best ofit by a couple of hours."

  Through the darkness they raced to the open sea. The cool morning breezeblew briskly in their faces and Gregory noticed they were overhauling afew of the stragglers.

  "It oughtn't to take you long to catch up with them at this clip," hesaid admiringly. "Are all of your boats as fast as this one?"

  "If they were it would break me up," the girl answered. "The _Petrel's_my flag ship. She's a gas-hog, but she can travel. She has fifty horse,and built on the lines she is, there aren't many of them around herethat can make her run in their wake. Only two in fact," she added."Mascola's speed-boat and Rossi's fleet-tender."

  "Who is Rossi?"

  "Mascola's fishing captain. Next to his boss and old Rock, one of thebiggest crooks in town. He knows his business though," she supplementedhalf-admiringly, "and is a good man for Mascola."

  "Who's Rock?" asked Gregory.

  The girl faced about suddenly.

&nb
sp; "Rock's the big man of a little town. He's in everything. The furtheryou go without meeting with him the better off you'll be. He's presidentof the bank, the Rock Commercial Company and several other concerns. Heowns the controlling interest in the Golden Rule Cannery besides. He hasa finger in everything. He's a mighty busy man. But he's never too busyto meddle with other people's business. At least he tried to in mine."

  Her teeth snapped in a vicious click.

  A number of questions crowded to Gregory's mind, as they crossed thejettied inlet and headed down the coast. He asked them in rapid-fireorder.

  "How many boats have you?"

  "Twenty-five. Using sixteen to-day."

  "Why don't you run them all?"

  "Can't get the men. That is, good ones. I'm hiring and firing all thetime. Paying thirty-eight now and that leaves me short-handed even withthe boats I'm working."

  "How many boats has Mascola?"

  The girl was silent for a moment. Then she answered:

  "Can't say. Somewhere about fifty, maybe more. It's hard to check himup. His boats cruise a long way out and some of them don't put in toLegonia at all."

  "What kind of fish are you catching now?"

  "Halibut mostly, some barracuda. Haven't tried for sardines or albacoresince your cannery shut down."

  The _Petrel_ rolled lazily in the trough of the swell as she sped downthe coast. Suddenly the darkness ahead was blurred by an indistinctshape and the man at the wheel put the vessel over sharply. As he did sohe narrowly escaped a collision with an unlighted boat which loomeddirectly across their bow.

  "Trawler fishing within the three-mile limit without lights," the girlexplained to her passenger.

  Gregory remembered Dickie Lang's words concerning alien interference. Heknew that running without lights was illegal. Why was the law notenforced?

  In answer to his question, the girl burst out: "You just wait. Icouldn't take the time now to tell you of all the laws Mascola breaksand if I did you wouldn't believe me."

  "How can he get by with it?" Gregory asked.

  Dickie Lang walked to the rail and searched the dark water in thedirection of the shore before she replied: "There are three differentkinds of laws out here. The navigation laws are made by the government,the fishing laws by the state, and the law of the sea is made by thefishermen. If you break the pilot-rules they'll haul you up before thelocal inspector at Port Angeles and fine you, take away your license orput you in jail. But they've got to have the proof and that is hard toget. If you break the state's laws you run up against the fishcommissioner. His deputies do their best to protect the fish and seethat the fishermen use the right kind of gear. If they catch an outfitwith the goods, they put them over. But it's hard to do."

  She stared away into the faintly graying darkness.

  "Cut through the kelp, Tom. It will save us a little and we're going toneed it."

  "And the fisherman's law you spoke about. What is that?" Gregoryqueried.

  She faced him suddenly. "I don't know how to explain it," she said."Every one has to learn it for himself. It's the law of the biggest andfastest boat. The law of the longest and strongest arm. The law of sandand a quick trigger."

  Gregory felt his pulse quicken as she went on:

  "You see we have to depend on ourselves out here to settle our troubles.Whatever happens, happens quick. Generally there are not many witnesses.If you knew trouble was coming, you might get a deputy to come out, butthe chances are ten to one they wouldn't. They would say it was only afisherman's row and tell you to swear out a warrant. And if you go tolaw, Mascola will bring five witnesses for each of yours and they'lloutswear you every time for they can lie faster than a man can write itdown."

  Again she paused and searched the gray border of the receding curtain ofnight. Far away Gregory could hear the roar of the breakers. From outthe gray dusk ahead appeared the shadowy outline of a rugged promontoryjutting far out into the sea.

  "Keep close in, Tom. Our last string's dead ahead, off Peeble Beach.When you get around the point swing on the outside of Coward Rocks andgive her all she'll stand."

  She walked slowly about the deck with her eyes fixed on the wave-washedshore-line.

  "So you see each outfit makes its own laws and it's up to them toenforce them. Our law is to mind our own business and get the fish. Theonly law we break is Mascola's. He tries to tell us where to fish. Hebullies the ones he can and fights the ones he can't in any way that iseasiest and safest. He's a thief and a crook and he'd commit murder in aminute if he thought he could get by with it."

  The idea lodged in her brain. She leaned closer and exclaimed in a lowvoice: "And how do we know he doesn't get by with murder the way he doeswith everything else? There's many a man picked up along the coast as a'floater' that nobody knows how he drowned."

  Daybreak was upon them as they hugged the shore-line and slipped intothe protecting shadow of Long Point. Dickie Lang's words sank deep intoGregory's consciousness. A half-formed question found its way at lastto his lips.

  "Do you think," he began, but was interrupted by the man at the wheel.

  "Can't make the inside channel. Have to go round."

  He altered the helm as he spoke. Dickie Lang jumped to his side.

  "We've got to run the short-cut, Tom. No use going round. They'd spot usa mile away in this light. If they're laying round my nets I want tosurprise them. I'll take the boat."

  The fisherman surrendered the wheel and sidled out of the way.

  "She's your boat," he said with blunt emphasis. "But don't forget it'smy license. I wouldn't take the chance."

  The girl nodded. "My license is hanging up in the engine-room," sheretorted. "If anything happens, it's me that is responsible. I won'tforget."

  She spun the wheel over as she spoke and the _Petrel_ swerved like agull and headed straight for the rugged cliff which towered high abovethe foaming water, bold and defiant of the angry waves which dashedrelentlessly at its base.

  Off the port bow Gregory saw a narrow pathway of quiet water fringed onone side by white-toothed swells, on the other by the barnacled feet ofthe point itself. He leaned over the rail and followed the course of theribbon-like path which wound like a snake among the curling waves andjagged rocks. Could that be the channel the girl meant to take?

  Dickie Lang's eyes were fixed with his upon the devious waterway. Thehand which held the wheel was steady and the _Petrel_ plunged boldly onas if bent upon flinging its fragile shell upon the time-defying rocksof Long Point.

  Gregory measured the distance to the overhanging ledge. What was the useof taking such a chance as this? It looked like one in a million. Inanother minute they would pile up. They were almost abreast of thethread-like channel when he saw the fingers on the wheel tighten. Thesteering gear whirred and the _Petrel_ leaped forward to answer themaster-hand at the helm.

  Then came the miracle.

  The slim bow of the little craft swung about. For a second she wallowedin the trough of the ground-swell, rose high on its foaming crest andnestled slowly down in the quiet water of the rock-bound channel. Andthe distance to safety had been gained by the scant margin of only a fewinches. A sharper or blunter turn would have ripped the vessel from bowto stern. Was it luck? He shook his head slowly. Then he began tounderstand why the fishermen took orders from Dickie Lang. He wasrecalled to himself by a laughing voice and he saw that the girl's eyeswere sparkling, as she said without turning her head:

  "Did you think you were going to have to swim ashore?"

  Gregory laughed. "I could feel the water about my ears," he said. Thenhe added: "Do you do stunts like that often?"

  She shook her head. "Sometimes it is necessary to take a chance," sheanswered. "You've got to catch Mascola's bunch red-handed. When we roundthe 'bull-nose' we'll be right on top of our nets."

  Her lips were firmly compressed and the little lines which suddenlyappeared about her mouth were hard. With her eyes still held by thebarnacled rocks, she snapped: "Then you ma
y see something."

  They were nearing the end of Long Point. Throttling the throbbing motoruntil its soft breathing could be heard only a few boat-lengths, shenodded to the fisherman:

  "All right, Tom. She's yours. Plenty of water from here on. When youround 'bull-nose' head for the cove with all you've got."

  Relieved from the wheel she dodged into the engine-room and returnedwith two rifles. Flashing a glance shoreward to determine the _Petrel's_position she rejoined Gregory and handed him one of the guns. Gregoryreached eagerly for the weapon. For the past hour he had been forced tosit by a spectator. Now was a chance to do something. To play a game heknew. His fingers caressed the stock of the Winchester as the girlexclaimed:

  "Don't suppose there is any use telling you how to shoot. Only at seathings are a little different. You have to count on the roll. Sight fulluntil you get on the range. Distances are deceiving on the water. Pullon the slow rise if you can. That's when she's steadiest."

  He noted her quiet manner of speaking and the businesslike way withwhich she handled her gun. What she meant for him to do he did notclearly understand. Whatever it was, she would find him ready. Heslipped a shell into the barrel from the magazine, and waited. Henoticed that the girl was watching him closely as they came to the endof the winding channel. Then she gave him brief instructions.

  "When we pass that big rock ahead we'll head in. Then you will see astring of nets. You may see two strings, one laid around the other. Ifany of Mascola's gang are hanging around I'm going to try to persuadethem to give me sea-way."

  She set her lips grimly and tapped the rifle. Drawing a pair ofbinocular-glasses from her pocket she focused them carefully.

  "Don't shoot until I do. If they are trying to lay around I'll open upon them and start them moving. Aim at the water-line and pump away asfast as you like. All right, Tom. Give her the gun."

  The _Petrel_ leaped under the advancing throttle and raced for thecuriously fashioned nub at the cliff's end.

  Gregory crowded forward, striving to catch a glimpse of the waterbeyond. As they flashed by the "bull-nose" she saw silhouetted againstthe brightening light which streamed across the water from the beach,the sharp outline of a fishing-boat. Then he heard a low exclamationfrom the girl.

  "He's laid around my string," she gritted, and again the glasses flashedto her eyes. She whirled on the fisherman. "Look at that, Tom! He'sstripping my nets. I've got him with the goods this time and, so help meGod, I'm going to make him pay. Don't shoot," she cautioned Gregory."Wait till we get closer. I want to get him with the deadwood. Wideopen, Tom, we'll run him off his legs. I'll----"

  A puff of white smoke drifted upward from the deck of the launch aheadand floated lazily above the rigging. Some fifty feet beyond the portbow of the _Petrel_ the water leaped upward in a tiny spout. Dickie'srifle sounded in Gregory's ear and the report of his own prolonged theechoes. As he pumped in another cartridge he noted that the girl's eyeswere shining and her red lips were parted in a smile. Between shots heheard her mutter:

  "Can you beat that? The dirty robbers are going to stay and fight?"