Tales of the Fish Patrol
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Jack London >> Tales of the Fish Patrol
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7 Transcribed from the 1914 edition by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
Tales of the Fish Patrol
WHITE AND YELLOW
San Francisco Bay is so large that often its storms are more
disastrous to ocean-going 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 fisher-folk 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 bag-nets to the bottom, with gaping mouths,
into which the shrimp crawls and from which it is transferred to
the boiling-pot. This in itself would not be bad, were it not for
the small mesh of the nets, so small that the tiniest fishes,
little new-hatched things not a quarter of an inch long, cannot
pass through. The beautiful beaches of Points Pedro and Pablo,
where are the shrimp-catchers' villages, are made fearful by the
stench from myriads of decaying fish, and against this wasteful
destruction it has ever been the duty of the fish patrol to act.
When I was a youngster of sixteen, a good sloop-sailor and all-
round bay-waterman, my sloop, the Reindeer, was chartered by 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 shrimp-catchers.
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 perforce we doubled up in the cockpit
and tossed it out again.
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 sky-line. Its fiery rays dispelled the clinging
vapors, and there, before our eyes, like a picture, lay the shrimp
fleet, spread out in a great half-moon, the tips of the crescent
fully three miles apart, and each junk moored fast to the buoy of a
shrimp-net. But there was no stir, no sign of life.
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 junks at the least."
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 cockpit.
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 half-awakened and half-naked 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 lug-sail. 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 main-sheet, 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 main-sheet 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
sail.
This was met by a curdling yell of rage. A big Chinaman,
remarkably evil-looking, with his head swathed in a yellow silk
handkerchief and face badly pock-marked, planted a pike-pole 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
pock-marked 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 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 on top.
"You'd better get out your gun and make them bail," I said to
George.
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.
"What do we care?" George said weakly.
I was fuming with helpless anger. "If they get out of hand, it
will be too late to care. The best thing you can do is to get them
in check right now."
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 cockle-shell. 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 revolver, if you
want to be safe."
"The safest thing to do," he chattered cravenly, "is to put them
ashore. I, for one, don't want to be drowned for the sake of a
handful of dirty Chinamen."
"And I, for another, don't care to give in to a handful of dirty
Chinamen to escape drowning," I answered hotly.
"You'll sink the Reindeer under us all at this rate," he whined.
"And what good that'll do I can't see."
"Every man to his taste," I retorted.
He made no reply, but I could see he was trembling pitifully.
Between the threatening Chinese and the rising water he was 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 hand-axe, 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 jiffy."
"They're too many for us," he whimpered. "We can't fight them
all."
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 ordered him back, and so sharply
that he obeyed.
"Now keep your distance," I commanded, "and don't you come closer!"
"Wha' fo'?" he demanded indignantly. "I t'ink-um talkee talkee
heap good."
"Talkee talkee," I answered bitterly, for I knew now that he had
understood all that passed between George and me. "What for talkee
talkee? You no sabbe talkee talkee."
He grinned in a sickly fashion. "Yep, I sabbe velly much. I
honest Chinaman."
"All right," I answered. "You sabbe talkee talkee, then you bail
water plenty plenty. After that we talkee talkee."
He shook his head, at the same time pointing over his shoulder to
his comrades. "No can do. Velly bad Chinamen, heap velly bad. I
t'ink-um--"
"Stand back!" I shouted, for I had noticed his hand disappear
beneath his blouse and his body prepare for a spring.
Disconcerted, he went back into the cabin, to hold a council,
apparently, from the way the jabbering broke forth. The 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
disturbed the surface of the bay.
"I think you'd better head for the beach," George said abruptly, in
a manner that told me his fear had forced him to make up his mind
to some course of action.
"I think not," I answered shortly.
"I command you," he said in a bullying tone.
"I was commanded to bring these prisoners into San Rafael," was my
reply.
Our voices were raised, and the sound of the altercation brought
the Chinese out of the cabin.
"Now will you head for the beach?"
This from George, and I found myself looking into the muzzle of his
revolver--of the revolver he dared to use on me, but was too
cowardly to use on the prisoners.
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 do.
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
shrimp-catchers were cowering and cringing away.
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 cabin and on the
roof and would not move.
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 main-sheet,
so as to spill the wind and escape damage.
But my mind was made up. I hauled in the main-sheet a foot or two,
took a turn with it, and bracing my feet, put my back against 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 could stand the strain of
imminent death the longer and not give in.
Then the wind struck us. The main-sheet 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 lee-rail
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 were washed about,
those underneath being perilously near to drowning.
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 main-sheet. 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 possible moment crossed the mud flats and entered the
slough.
The spirit of the Chinese was broken, and so docile did they become
that ere we made San Rafael they were out with the tow-rope, 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 good
enough for him. And we thought so too.
THE KING OF THE GREEKS
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
fish laws more systematically and deliberately than Big Alec.
He was called "Big Alec" because of his gigantic stature. His
height was six feet three inches, and he was correspondingly broad-
shouldered and deep-chested. He was splendidly muscled and hard as
steel, and there were innumerable stories in circulation among the
fisher-folk 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 one another and himself in time of
trouble.
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 patrol-man named Carmintel,
and the three of us were on the Reindeer, preparing for a trip,
when Big Alec stepped aboard. Carmintel evidently knew him, for
they shook hands in recognition. Big Alec took no notice of
Charley or me.
"I've come down to fish sturgeon a couple of months," he said to
Carmintel.
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 talk things over,"
he added.
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 explain, though I felt there was something wrong
about the business.
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 house-boat 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 riddled with bullet-holes.
We found the holes (stopped with wooden plugs and painted over),
but there were not so many as I had expected. Charley noted 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 mooring-stakes of Big Alec's
ark; the ark itself remained hidden for months in the fastnesses of
the Suisun tules.
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