STRICTLY ON THE DEFENSIVE
The _Richard_ was in motion before the echoes of the _Fuor d'Italia's_
gatlin-like exhaust had died away. Directing Bronson to take them
alongside each of the vessels which composed the fleet, Gregory and
Dickie Lang boarded the fishing vessels and conferred with the
respective captains. Gregory's instructions were phrased with military
directness.
Every launch was assigned a definite position which it was to assume at
once and hold at all cost. The fleet was divided into three divisions.
The main unit, comprising the vessels equipped with the live-bait tanks,
were to begin "chumming" at once within a given area. As soon as
practicable, fishing was to commence. The second division, made up for
the most part of the heavier, Diesel-motored vessels, was to lay to in V
formation about the fishermen to protect them from interference in the
direction from which the fish were running. The remainder of the fleet
were to stand by as a rearguard, cover the extreme flanks and maintain a
reserve.
Before taking leave of each craft as it left to go to its new position,
Gregory briefly addressed the crew: "Get this, fellows. We're here to
fish. Not to fight. If trouble comes, let Mascola start it. If he does,
I expect you to hold your positions. Keep in the clear and use no
firearms. Remember, what you do to-night, binds me. Play safe. Keep
cool. But get the fish."
To a man, the ex-sailors understood the seriousness of the situation,
though there were some who argued against the poor fighting policy of
letting the other fellow hit the first blow. The radical element,
however, were soon quieted by the older and more conservative men, and
all agreed to stay in the clear so "nobody could hang anything on the
boss."
Tom Howard had arrived with the _Pelican_ when Gregory and Dickie Lang
returned to the _Curlew_. The fisherman brought the news that the men of
the alien fleet were in a high state of intoxication. Moreover, they
appeared to be completely out of live bait.
Dickie smiled grimly. "That means that if Mascola does send them down
here, he'll just be looking for trouble. If they haven't the bait, all
they can do will be to try to steal our school like they did before, and
I guess this time they'll find they're out of luck."
"Met Mascola on my way down," Howard announced. "He was running
wide-open, heading straight for Black Point."
Gregory frowned. "It's hard to tell what Mascola will do to-night," he
said.
The _Pelican_ was despatched at once to take her position as the leader
of the front rank. As the _Curlew_ made ready to get under way, Hawkins
appeared at the rail.
"Don't forget the press," he called. "If I'm going to do this affair
justice I've got to be at the ringside."
Gregory moved nearer to Bronson and allowed the newspaperman to
accompany the party on the speed-craft. Then the _Richard_ sped away to
see that all the boats were in their proper places. Arriving in the
center of the fishing area, Dickie Lang watched the men "chumming" the
fish and suggested they throw out their lines at once.
"I don't like the looks of the weather," she confided to Gregory. "It
feels like a blow. I'm going to have a look at the glass on the
_Snipe_." Gregory noticed that the girl appeared worried when she
returned to the _Richard_. "Dropping fast," she announced. "It may be
just a squall or it may be a real blow. This is no place for us in
either case. We must rush the fishing all we can."
Gregory agreed and gave the necessary orders. From the sides of the
_Snipe_ the lines flashed over the rail. On the instant the albacore
began to strike. As the _Richard_ bounded away to notify the other boats
of the order to hurry operations, the girl observed:
"The fish are heading close in all right. They're running from
something. Now is the time to hit it hard. Oughtn't to take long the way
they're starting. I must see that the boys have all the barbs off the
hooks. We have to work fast. And when the blow comes, we'll have to get
clear of the Diablo coast."
The second tour of the fishing fleet was only partly completed when
Dickie directed Gregory's gaze in the direction of the point off
Northwest Harbor.
"Here they come," she cried. "Mascola's looking for trouble just as I
told you."
Gregory surveyed the bobbing lights in silence as they moved nearer; saw
the red-lights blur and fade into green as the vessels changed direction
and headed shoreward; noted one twinkling light running far in advance
of its fellows; saw it swerve and double again into red and green. That
meant that the _Fuor d'Italia_ was bearing down upon them. Directing
Bronson to intercept the Italian, Gregory explained:
"I want to give Mascola another chance. We're not looking for trouble.
He can lay to the seaward but he's got to give us sea-way to get out if
it roughens up."
The _Richard_ swung wide and came abreast the _Fuor d'Italia_. Then it
came to Mascola that the strange craft on his left had some speed. Above
the roar of his own exhaust he heard his name called in a peremptory
hail. The hot blood surged to his face and he stepped on the throttle.
He had no time to talk. He must spot the position of the cannery boats
and give his men instructions how to break through.
The _Fuor d'Italia_ bounded away with a sullen roar. But before Mascola
could circle in the direction of the lights of the fleet, the _Richard_
was again on his rail. Cursing to himself, the Italian advanced his
spark and pressed hard on the throttle. But though he gained a few feet
on his pursuer, he knew that he dared not try to make the turn. His boat
would "turn turtle" or be cut in two by the craft behind.
On the two boats sped through the darkness. The lights of the fishing
fleet flashed by them like the gleam of switch-lights, seen from an
express train. Mascola's anger mounted. His men were waiting for orders
and he had seen nothing of the enemy's formation. A plan formed quickly
in his brain. It was dangerous of course. But the liquor gave him
courage. Removing one hand from the wheel, he extended it toward the
switch-board.
"He doesn't dare make the turn at this speed," Dickie shouted in
Gregory's ear. "Tell Bronson to watch him close when he doubles to come
back. He'll head into the swell, to the starboard."
Gregory was giving the boatman the message when he felt Dickie grasp his
arm.
"He's switched off his lights," she cried. "He's going to try to dodge
us, running dark."
Bronson had already slackened speed at sight of the disappearing lights
ahead. Then he put the _Richard_ hard over, and the speed-craft swerved
with a jerk which left her passengers crowding close against one
another.
"Give her the gun," shouted Gregory. "Head back. Don't let him slip us."
As the boatman complied and the _Richard_ began to lift her hull from
the sea, the dark waters ahead were brightened by a phosphorescent
flash. Directly across their course lay the _Fuor d'Italia_. Twisting
the steering wheel with only the slightest pressure of his fingers to
avoid turning the _Richard_ over, Bronson opened the cut-out and stepped
hard on the throttle. The speed-craft dipped, then raised and bumped the
_Fuor d'Italia_ beam to beam as she raced by.
The shock of the collision threw Mascola half from his seat and had a
decidedly sobering effect upon his senses. He had noted his boat tremble
at the impact and crowd away from the stranger; had felt the straining
of her timbers. Now he noticed that his motor was missing badly. A loose
wire probably. He made haste to repair the trouble and switched on his
running lights. The _Fuor d'Italia_ was too light to take chances of
roughing it in the dark. As he worked, he heard a voice hail him.
"What do you want?" he demanded angrily. "Damn you, you hit my boat."
The lights of the returning motor-boat drew alongside before Gregory
answered:
"Listen, Mascola. If you're looking for trouble, this is the place to
find it. If you're not, you can move out to sea and get as many fish as
we are. We'll not bother you. There's plenty of albacore over here
to-night for everybody. If you try to break through us, it will be up to
you."
Mascola's anger came in a torrent of Italian words. Then he composed
himself sufficiently to speak in broken English: "This Mr. Bandrist's
island. He tell me I fish here. He say you go. You stay, you like
trouble. My men like fight any time."
"Go to it, then," Gregory answered quietly. "And when you see your
friend Bandrist, tell him for me that he hasn't bought Diablo. He's only
leasing the land. If he has any more claim to the water than we have,
he'll have to show us."
Mascola completed his repairs, started his motor and raced away in the
direction of his fleet with the _Richard_ running close at his side. But
when he came abreast of the cannery fishing-boats, he made no effort to
head in.
"He don't want to rough it any more with this one," Bronson commented.
"I reckon when he looks over his boat it'll mean a job for the shop
putting in a few ribs."
Mascola returned to his fleet, his cheeks burning with rage. In the
first preliminary skirmish with the enemy, he realized he had been
beaten. He had found out nothing of value. Had damaged his boat too, no
doubt. Well, he'd make somebody pay for it before morning. Circling his
boats, he gave orders for an immediate advance in the direction of the
cannery fleet.
Kenneth Gregory looked after the departing lights of the _Fuor
d'Italia_.
"Score one for the invaders of Bandrist's island," he said grimly.
"Mascola didn't learn much on his reconnoitering expedition, except that
we had a better boat than his." Then he turned to Bronson. "Take us up
to the other end," he instructed. "I want to tell the boys to keep as
close in as they can so Mascola's boats will have to skirt the reef to
get by."
When they arrived at the indicated spot and the V broadened according to
orders, the lights of the alien fleet could be discerned moving toward
them.
"Here they come," announced Dickie Lang. "Looks as if they were going to
try to crowd in from the north side."
Gregory smiled. "That's just what I want them to do," he answered. "One
of the benefits of reconnoitering is to get an idea of just what you're
going into. If Mascola had taken a good look, he wouldn't have come that
way."