White and Yellow
San Francisco Bay is so large that often its storms are moredisastrous to ocean-going craft than is the ocean itself in itsviolent moments. The waters of the bay contain all manner of fish,wherefore its surface is ploughed by the keels of all manner offishing boats manned by all manner of fishermen. To protect thefish from this motley floating population many wise laws have beenpassed, and there is a fish patrol to see that these laws areenforced. Exciting times are the lot of the fish patrol: in itshistory more than one dead patrolman has marked defeat, and moreoften 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 bottomin vast armies till it reaches fresh water, when it turns about andcrawls 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 tothe boiling-pot. This in itself would not be bad, were it not forthe small mesh of the nets, so small that the tiniest fishes,little new-hatched things not a quarter of an inch long, cannotpass through. The beautiful beaches of Points Pedro and Pablo,where are the shrimp-catchers' villages, are made fearful by thestench from myriads of decaying fish, and against this wastefuldestruction 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 theFish Commission, and I became for the time being a deputypatrolman. After a deal of work among the Greek fishermen of theUpper Bay and rivers, where knives flashed at the beginning oftrouble and men permitted themselves to be made prisoners onlyafter a revolver was thrust in their faces, we hailed with delightan expedition to the Lower Bay against the Chinese shrimp-catchers.There were six of us, in two boats, and to avoid suspicion we randown after dark and dropped anchor under a projecting bluff of landknown as Point Pinole. As the east paled with the first light ofdawn we got under way again, and hauled close on the land breeze aswe slanted across the bay toward Point Pedro. The morning mistscurled and clung to the water so that we could see nothing, but webusied 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 generousleak. Half the night had been spent in overhauling the ballast andexploring the seams, but the labor had been without avail. Thewater still poured in, and perforce we doubled up in the cockpitand tossed it out again.After coffee, three of the men withdrew to the other boat, aColumbia River salmon boat, leaving three of us in the Reindeer.Then the two craft proceeded in company till the sun showed overthe eastern sky-line. Its fiery rays dispelled the clingingvapors, and there, before our eyes, like a picture, lay the shrimpfleet, spread out in a great half-moon, the tips of the crescentfully three miles apart, and each junk moored fast to the buoy of ashrimp-net. But there was no stir, no sign of life.The situation dawned upon us. While waiting for slack water, inwhich to lift their heavy nets from the bed of the bay, the Chinesehad all gone to sleep below. We were elated, and our plan ofbattle was swiftly formed."Throw each of your two men on to a junk," whispered Le Grant to mefrom 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 weshouldn't capture six junks at the least."Then we separated. I put the Reindeer about on the other tack, ranup under the lee of a junk, shivered the mainsail into the wind andlost headway, and forged past the stern of the junk so slowly andso near that one of the patrolmen stepped lightly aboard. Then Ikept off, filled the mainsail, and bore away for a second junk.Up to this time there had been no noise, but from the first junkcaptured by the salmon boat an uproar now broke forth. There wasshrill Oriental yelling, a pistol shot, and more yelling."It's all up. They're warning the others," said George, theremaining patrolman, as he stood beside me in the cockpit.By this time we were in the thick of the fleet, and the alarm wasspreading with incredible swiftness. The decks were beginning toswarm with half-awakened and half-naked Chinese. Cries and yellsof warning and anger were flying over the quiet water, andsomewhere a conch shell was being blown with great success. To theright of us I saw the captain of a junk chop away his mooring linewith an axe and spring to help his crew at the hoisting of thehuge, outlandish lug-sail. But to the left the first heads werepopping up from below on another junk, and I rounded up theReindeer alongside long enough for George to spring aboard.The whole fleet was now under way. In addition to the sails theyhad gotten out long sweeps, and the bay was being ploughed in everydirection by the fleeing junks. I was now alone in the Reindeer,seeking feverishly to capture a third prize. The first junk I tookafter was a clean miss, for it trimmed its sheets and shot awaysurprisingly into the wind. By fully half a point it outpointedthe Reindeer, and I began to feel respect for the clumsy craft.Realizing the hopelessness of the pursuit, I filled away, threw outthe main-sheet, and drove down before the wind upon the junks toleeward, where I had them at a disadvantage.The one I had selected wavered indecisively before me, and, as Iswung wide to make the boarding gentle, filled suddenly and dartedaway, the smart Mongols shouting a wild rhythm as they bent to thesweeps. But I had been ready for this. I luffed suddenly.Putting the tiller hard down, and holding it down with my body, Ibrought the main-sheet in, hand over hand, on the run, so as toretain all possible striking force. The two starboard sweeps ofthe junk were crumpled up, and then the two boats came togetherwith a crash. The Reindeer's bowsprit, like a monstrous hand,reached over and ripped out the junk's chunky mast and toweringsail.This was met by a curdling yell of rage. A big Chinaman,remarkably evil-looking, with his head swathed in a yellow silkhandkerchief and face badly pock-marked, planted a pike-pole on theReindeer's bow and began to shove the entangled boats apart.Pausing long enough to let go the jib halyards, and just as theReindeer cleared and began to drift astern, I leaped aboard thejunk with a line and made fast. He of the yellow handkerchief andpock-marked face came toward me threateningly, but I put my handinto my hip pocket, and he hesitated. I was unarmed, but theChinese have learned to be fastidiously careful of American hippockets, and it was upon this that I depended to keep him and hissavage crew at a distance.I ordered him to drop the anchor at the junk's bow, to which hereplied, "No sabbe." The crew responded in like fashion, andthough I made my meaning plain by signs, they refused tounderstand. Realizing the inexpediency of discussing the matter, Iwent forward myself, overran the line, and let the anchor go."Now get aboard, four of you," I said in a loud voice, indicatingwith my fingers that four of them were to go with me and the fifthwas to remain by the junk. The Yellow Handkerchief hesitated; butI repeated the order fiercely (much more fiercely than I felt), atthe same time sending my hand to my hip. Again the YellowHandkerchief was overawed, and with surly looks he led three of hismen aboard the Reindeer. I cast off at once, and, leaving the jibdown, steered a course for George's junk. Here it was easier, forthere were two of us, and George had a pistol to fall back on if itcame to the worst. And here, as with my junk, four Chinese weretransferred to the sloop and one left behind to take care ofthings.Four more were added to our passenger list from the third junk. Bythis time the salmon boat had collected its twelve prisoners andcame alongside, badly overloaded. To make matters worse, as it wasa small boat, the patrolmen were so jammed in with their prisonersthat 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 ontop of it. "I can take three," I answered."Make it four," he suggested, "and I'll take Bill with me." (Billwas the third patrolman.) "We haven't elbow room here, and in caseof a scuffle one white to every two of them will be just about theright proportion."The exchange was made, and the salmon boat got up its spritsail andheaded down the bay toward the marshes off San Rafael. I ran upthe jib and followed with the Reindeer. San Rafael, where we wereto turn our catch over to the authorities, communicated with thebay by way of a long and tortuous slough, or marshland creek, whichcould be navigated only when the tide was in. Slack water hadcome, and, as the ebb was commencing, there was need for hurry ifwe cared to escape waiting half a day for the next tide.But the land breeze had begun to die away with the rising sun, andnow came only in failing puffs. The salmon boat got out its oarsand soon left us far astern. Some of the Chinese stood in theforward part of the cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as Ileaned over the cockpit rail to flatten down the jib-sheet a bit, Ifelt some one brush against my hip pocket. I made no sign, but outof the corner of my eye I saw that the Yellow Handkerchief haddiscovered the emptiness of the pocket which had hitherto overawedhim.To make matters serious, during all the excitement of boarding thejunks the Reindeer had not been bailed, and the water was beginningto slush over the cockpit floor. The shrimp-catchers pointed at itand looked to me questioningly."Yes," I said. "Bime by, allee same dlown, velly quick, you nobail now. Sabbe?"No, they did not "sabbe," or at least they shook their heads tothat effect, though they chattered most comprehendingly to oneanother in their own lingo. I pulled up three or four of thebottom boards, got a couple of buckets from a locker, and byunmistakable sign-language invited them to fall to. But theylaughed, and some crowded into the cabin and some climbed up ontop.Their laughter was not good laughter. There was a hint of menacein it, a maliciousness which their black looks verified. TheYellow Handkerchief, since his discovery of my empty pocket, hadbecome most insolent in his bearing, and he wormed about among theother prisoners, talking to them with great earnestness.Swallowing my chagrin, I stepped down into the cockpit and beganthrowing out the water. But hardly had I begun, when the boomswung overhead, the mainsail filled with a jerk, and the Reindeerheeled over. The day wind was springing up. George was theveriest of landlubbers, so I was forced to give over bailing andtake the tiller. The wind was blowing directly off Point Pedro andthe high mountains behind, and because of this was squally anduncertain, half the time bellying the canvas out and the other halfflapping 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 thatif he attempted to bail, it might bring on a hemorrhage. Yet therising water warned me that something must be done. Again Iordered the shrimp-catchers to lend a hand with the buckets. Theylaughed defiantly, and those inside the cabin, the water up totheir ankles, shouted back and forth with those on top."You'd better get out your gun and make them bail," I said toGeorge.But he shook his head and showed all too plainly that he wasafraid. The Chinese could see the funk he was in as well as Icould, and their insolence became insufferable. Those in the cabinbroke into the food lockers, and those above scrambled down andjoined 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, itwill be too late to care. The best thing you can do is to get themin check right now."The water was rising higher and higher, and the gusts, forerunnersof a steady breeze, were growing stiffer and stiffer. And betweenthe gusts, the prisoners, having gotten away with a week's grub,took to crowding first to one side and then to the other till theReindeer rocked like a cockle-shell. Yellow Handkerchiefapproached me, and, pointing out his village on the Point Pedrobeach, gave me to understand that if I turned the Reindeer in thatdirection 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 hewas disappointed."If you don't show some nerve, they'll rush us and throw usoverboard," I said to him. "Better give me your revolver, if youwant to be safe.""The safest thing to do," he chattered cravenly, "is to put themashore. I, for one, don't want to be drowned for the sake of ahandful of dirty Chinamen.""And I, for another, don't care to give in to a handful of dirtyChinamen 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 besidehimself with fright; and, more than the Chinese and the water, Ifeared him and what his fright might impel him to do. I could seehim casting longing glances at the small skiff towing astern, so inthe next calm I hauled the skiff alongside. As I did so his eyesbrightened with hope; but before he could guess my intention, Istove the frail bottom through with a hand-axe, and the skifffilled to its gunwales."It's sink or float together," I said. "And if you'll give me yourrevolver, I'll have the Reindeer bailed out in a jiffy.""They're too many for us," he whimpered. "We can't fight themall."I turned my back on him in disgust. The salmon boat had long sincepassed from sight behind a little archipelago known as the MarinIslands, so no help could be looked for from that quarter. YellowHandkerchief came up to me in a familiar manner, the water in thecockpit slushing against his legs. I did not like his looks. Ifelt that beneath the pleasant smile he was trying to put on hisface there was an ill purpose. I ordered him back, and so sharplythat he obeyed."Now keep your distance," I commanded, "and don't you come closer!""Wha' fo'?" he demanded indignantly. "I t'ink-um talkee talkeeheap good.""Talkee talkee," I answered bitterly, for I knew now that he hadunderstood all that passed between George and me. "What for talkeetalkee? You no sabbe talkee talkee."He grinned in a sickly fashion. "Yep, I sabbe velly much. Ihonest Chinaman.""All right," I answered. "You sabbe talkee talkee, then you bailwater plenty plenty. After that we talkee talkee."He shook his head, at the same time pointing over his shoulder tohis comrades. "No can do. Velly bad Chinamen, heap velly bad. It'ink-um - ""Stand back!" I shouted, for I had noticed his hand disappearbeneath 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 Reindeerwas very deep in the water, and her movements had grown quiteloggy. In a rough sea she would have inevitably swamped; but thewind, when it did blow, was off the land, and scarcely a rippledisturbed the surface of the bay."I think you'd better head for the beach," George said abruptly, ina manner that told me his fear had forced him to make up his mindto 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 myreply.Our voices were raised, and the sound of the altercation broughtthe Chinese out of the cabin."Now will you head for the beach?"This from George, and I found myself looking into the muzzle of hisrevolver - of the revolver he dared to use on me, but was toocowardly to use on the prisoners.My brain seemed smitten with a dazzling brightness. The wholesituation, in all its bearings, was focussed sharply before me -the shame of losing the prisoners, the worthlessness and cowardiceof George, the meeting with Le Grant and the other patrol men andthe lame explanation; and then there was the fight I had fought sohard, victory wrenched from me just as I thought I had it within mygrasp. And out of the tail of my eye I could see the Chinesecrowding together by the cabin doors and leering triumphantly. Itwould never do.I threw my hand up and my head down. The first act elevated themuzzle, and the second removed my head from the path of the bulletwhich went whistling past. One hand closed on George's wrist, theother on the revolver. Yellow Handkerchief and his gang sprangtoward me. It was now or never. Putting all my strength into asudden effort, I swung George's body forward to meet them. Then Ipulled back with equal suddenness, ripping the revolver out of hisfingers and jerking him off his feet. He fell against YellowHandkerchief's knees, who stumbled over him, and the pair wallowedin the bailing hole where the cockpit floor was torn open. Thenext instant I was covering them with my revolver, and the wildshrimp-catchers were cowering and cringing away.But I swiftly discovered that there was all the difference in theworld between shooting men who are attacking and men who are doingnothing more than simply refusing to obey. For obey they would notwhen I ordered them into the bailing hole. I threatened them withthe revolver, but they sat stolidly in the flooded cabin and on theroof and would not move.Fifteen minutes passed, the Reindeer sinking deeper and deeper, hermainsail flapping in the calm. But from off the Point Pedro shoreI saw a dark line form on the water and travel toward us. It wasthe steady breeze I had been expecting so long. I called to theChinese and pointed it out. They hailed it with exclamations.Then I pointed to the sail and to the water in the Reindeer, andindicated by signs that when the wind reached the sail, what of thewater aboard we would capsize. But they jeered defiantly, for theyknew 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 thetiller. This left me one hand for the sheet and one for therevolver. The dark line drew nearer, and I could see them lookingfrom me to it and back again with an apprehension they could notsuccessfully conceal. My brain and will and endurance were pittedagainst theirs, and the problem was which could stand the strain ofimminent death the longer and not give in.Then the wind struck us. The main-sheet tautened with a briskrattling of the blocks, the boom uplifted, the sail bellied out,and the Reindeer heeled over - over, and over, till the lee-railwent under, the cabin windows went under, and the bay began to pourin over the cockpit rail. So violently had she heeled over, thatthe men in the cabin had been thrown on top of one another into thelee 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 thanever. For the moment I thought she was gone, and I knew thatanother puff like that and she surely would go. While I pressedher under and debated whether I should give up or not, the Chinesecried for mercy. I think it was the sweetest sound I have everheard. And then, and not until then, did I luff up and ease outthe main-sheet. The Reindeer righted very slowly, and when she wason an even keel was so much awash that I doubted if she could besaved.But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell tobailing with buckets, pots, pans, and everything they could layhands on. It was a beautiful sight to see that water flying overthe side! And when the Reindeer was high and proud on the wateronce more, we dashed away with the breeze on our quarter, and atthe last possible moment crossed the mud flats and entered theslough.The spirit of the Chinese was broken, and so docile did they becomethat ere we made San Rafael they were out with the tow-rope, YellowHandkerchief at the head of the line. As for George, it was hislast trip with the fish patrol. He did not care for that sort ofthing, he explained, and he thought a clerkship ashore was goodenough for him. And we thought so too.
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