章节正文
out, they'll get careless some fine day, and then we'll get them."
But they did not grow careless, and Charley confessed that this was
one of the times when all signs failed. Their patience seemed
equal to ours, and the second week of the siege dragged
monotonously along. Then Charley's lagging imagination quickened
sufficiently to suggest a ruse. Peter Boyelen, a new patrolman and
one unknown to the fisher-folk, happened to arrive in Benicia and
we took him into our plan. We were as secret as possible about it,
but in some unfathomable way the friends ashore got word to the
beleaguered Italians to keep their eyes open.
On the night we were to put our ruse into effect, Charley and I
took up our usual station in our rowing skiff alongside the
Lancashire Queen. After it was thoroughly dark, Peter Boyelen came
out in a crazy duck boat, the kind you can pick up and carry away
under one arm. When we heard him coming along, paddling noisily,
we slipped away a short distance into the darkness, and rested on
our oars. Opposite the gangway, having jovially hailed the anchor-
watch of the Lancashire Queen and asked the direction of the
Scottish Chiefs, another wheat ship, he awkwardly capsized himself.
The man who was standing the anchor-watch ran down the gangway and
hauled him out of the water. This was what he wanted, to get
aboard the ship; and the next thing he expected was to be taken on
deck and then below to warm up and dry out. But the captain
inhospitably kept him perched on the lowest gang-way step,
shivering miserably and with his feet dangling in the water, till
we, out of very pity, rowed in from the darkness and took him off.
The jokes and gibes of the awakened crew sounded anything but sweet
in our ears, and even the two Italians climbed up on the rail and
laughed down at us long and maliciously.
"That's all right," Charley said in a low voice, which I only could
hear. "I'm mighty glad it's not us that's laughing first. We'll
save our laugh to the end, eh, lad?"
He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he finished, but it seemed to
me that there was more determination than hope in his voice.
It would have been possible for us to secure the aid of United
States marshals and board the English ship, backed by Government
authority. But the instructions of the Fish Commission were to the
effect that the patrolmen should avoid complications, and this one,
did we call on the higher powers, might well end in a pretty
international tangle.
The second week of the siege drew to its close, and there was no
sign of change in the situation. On the morning of the fourteenth
day the change came, and it came in a guise as unexpected and
startling to us as it was to the men we were striving to capture.
Charley and I, after our customary night vigil by the side of the
Lancashire Queen, rowed into the Solana Wharf.
"Hello!" cried Charley, in surprise. "In the name of reason and
common sense, what is that? Of all unmannerly craft did you ever
see the like?"
Well might he exclaim, for there, tied up to the dock, lay the
strangest looking launch I had ever seen. Not that it could be
called a launch, either, but it seemed to resemble a launch more
than any other kind of boat. It was seventy feet long, but so
narrow was it, and so bare of superstructure, that it appeared much
smaller than it really was. It was built wholly of steel, and was
painted black. Three smokestacks, a good distance apart and raking
well aft, arose in single file amidships; while the bow, long and
lean and sharp as a knife, plainly advertised that the boat was
made for speed. Passing under the stern, we read Streak, painted
in small white letters.
Charley and I were consumed with curiosity. In a few minutes we
were on board and talking with an engineer who was watching the
sunrise from the deck. He was quite willing to satisfy our
curiosity, and in a few minutes we learned that the Streak had come
in after dark from San Francisco; that this was what might be
called the trial trip; and that she was the property of Silas Tate,
a young miningmillionaire of California, whose fad was high-speed
yachts. There was some talk about turbine engines, direct
application of steam, and the absence of pistons, rods, and cranks,
- all of which was beyond me, for I was familiar only with sailing
craft; but I did understand the last words of the engineer.
"Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour, though you
wouldn't think it," he concluded proudly.
"Say it again, man! Say it again!" Charley exclaimed in an excited
voice.
"Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour," the
engineer repeated, grinning good-naturedly.
"Where's the owner?" was Charley's next question. "Is there any
way I can speak to him?"
The engineer shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. He's asleep,
you see."
At that moment a young man in blue uniform came on deck farther aft
and stood regarding the sunrise.
"There he is, that's him, that's Mr. Tate," said the engineer.
Charley walked aft and spoke to him, and while he talked earnestly
the young man listened with an amused expression on his face. He
must have inquired about the depth of water close in to the shore
at Turner's Shipyard, for I could see Charley making gestures and
explaining. A few minutes later he came back in high glee.
"Come on lad," he said. "On to the dock with you. We've got
them!"
It was our good fortune to leave the Streak when we did, for a
little later one of the spy fishermen appeared. Charley and I took
up our accustomed places, on the stringer-piece, a little ahead of
the Streak and over our own boat, where we could comfortably watch
the Lancashire Queen. Nothing occurred till about nine o'clock,
when we saw the two Italians leave the ship and pull along their
side of the triangle toward the shore. Charley looked as
unconcerned as could be, but before they had covered a quarter of
the distance, he whispered to me:
"Forty-five miles an hour . . . nothing can save them . . . they
are ours!"
Slowly the two men rowed along till they were nearly in line with
the windmill. This was the point where we always jumped into our
salmon boat and got up the sail, and the two men, evidently
expecting it, seemed surprised when we gave no sign.
When they were directly in line with the windmill, as near to the
shore as to the ship, and nearer the shore than we had ever allowed
them before, they grew suspicious. We followed them through the
glasses, and saw them standing up in the skiff and trying to find
out what we were doing. The spy fisherman, sitting beside us on
the stringer-piece was likewise puzzled. He could not understand
our inactivity. The men in the skiff rowed nearer the shore, but
stood up again and scanned it, as if they thought we might be in
hiding there. But a man came out on the beach and waved a
handkerchief to indicate that the coast was clear. That settled
them. They bent to the oars to make a dash for it. Still Charley
waited. Not until they had covered three-quarters of the distance
from the Lancashire Queen, which left them hardly more than a
quarter of a mile to gain the shore, did Charley slap me on the
shoulder and cry:
"They're ours! They're ours!"
We ran the few steps to the side of the Streak and jumped aboard.
Stern and bow lines were cast off in a jiffy. The Streak shot
ahead and away from the wharf. The spy fisherman we had left
behind on the stringer-piece pulled out a revolver and fired five
shots into the air in rapid succession. The men in the skiff gave
instant heed to the warning, for we could see them pulling away
like mad.
But if they pulled like mad, I wonder how our progress can be
described? We fairly flew. So frightful was the speed with which
we displaced the water, that a wave rose up on either side our bow
and foamed aft in a series of three stiff, up-standing waves, while
astern a great crested billow pursued us hungrily, as though at
each moment it would fall aboard and destroy us. The Streak was
pulsing and vibrating and roaring like a thing alive. The wind of
our progress was like a gale - a forty-five-mile gale. We could
not face it and draw breath without choking and strangling. It
blew the smoke straight back from the mouths of the smoke-stacks at
a direct right angle to the perpendicular. In fact, we were
travelling as fast as an express train. "We just streaked it," was
the way Charley told it afterward, and I think his description
comes nearer than any I can give.
As for the Italians in the skiff - hardly had we started, it seemed
to me, when we were on top of them. Naturally, we had to slow down
long before we got to them; but even then we shot past like a
whirlwind and were compelled to circle back between them and the
shore. They had rowed steadily, rising from the thwarts at every
stroke, up to the moment we passed them, when they recognized
Charley and me. That took the last bit of fight out of them. They
hauled in their oars, and sullenly submitted to arrest.
"Well, Charley," Neil Partington said, as we discussed it on the
wharf afterward, "I fail to see where your boasted imagination came
into play this time."
But Charley was true to his hobby. "Imagination?" he demanded,
pointing to the Streak. "Look at that! just look at it! If the
invention of that isn't imagination, I should like to know what
is."
"Of course," he added, "it's the other fellow's imagination, but it
did the work all the same."
CHARLEY'S COUP
Perhaps our most laughable exploit on the fish patrol, and at the
same time our most dangerous one, was when we rounded in, at a
single haul, an even score of wrathful fishermen. Charley called
it a "coop," having heard Neil Partington use the term; but I think
he misunderstood the word, and thought it meant "coop," to catch,
to trap. The fishermen, however, coup or coop, must have called it
a Waterloo, for it was the severest stroke ever dealt them by the
fish patrol, while they had invited it by open and impudent
defiance of the law.
During what is called the "open season" the fishermen might catch
as many salmon as their luck allowed and their boats could hold.
But there was one important restriction. From sun-down Saturday
night to sun-up Monday morning, they were not permitted to set a
net. This was a wise provision on the part of the Fish Commission,
for it was necessary to give the spawning salmon some opportunity
to ascend the river and lay their eggs. And this law, with only an
occasional violation, had been obediently observed by the Greek
fishermen who caught salmon for the canneries and the market.
One Sunday morning, Charley received a telephone call from a friend
in Collinsville, who told him that the full force of fishermen was
out with its nets. Charley and I jumped into our salmon boat and
started for the scene of the trouble. With a light favoring wind
at our back we went through the Carquinez Straits, crossed Suisun
Bay, passed the Ship Island Light, and came upon the whole fleet at
work.
But first let me describe the method by which they worked. The net
used is what is known as a gill-net. It has a simple diamond-
shaped mesh which measures at least seven and one-half inches
between the knots. From five to seven and even eight hundred feet
in length, these nets are only a few feet wide. They are not
stationary, but float with the current, the upper edge supported on
the surface by floats, the lower edge sunk by means of leaden
weights,
This arrangement keeps the net upright in the current and
effectually prevents all but the smaller fish from ascending the
river. The salmon, swimming near the surface, as is their custom,
run their heads through these meshes, and are prevented from going
on through by their larger girth of body, and from going back
because of their gills, which catch in the mesh. It requires two
fishermen to set such a net, - one to row the boat, while the
But they did not grow careless, and Charley confessed that this was
one of the times when all signs failed. Their patience seemed
equal to ours, and the second week of the siege dragged
monotonously along. Then Charley's lagging imagination quickened
sufficiently to suggest a ruse. Peter Boyelen, a new patrolman and
one unknown to the fisher-folk, happened to arrive in Benicia and
we took him into our plan. We were as secret as possible about it,
but in some unfathomable way the friends ashore got word to the
beleaguered Italians to keep their eyes open.
On the night we were to put our ruse into effect, Charley and I
took up our usual station in our rowing skiff alongside the
Lancashire Queen. After it was thoroughly dark, Peter Boyelen came
out in a crazy duck boat, the kind you can pick up and carry away
under one arm. When we heard him coming along, paddling noisily,
we slipped away a short distance into the darkness, and rested on
our oars. Opposite the gangway, having jovially hailed the anchor-
watch of the Lancashire Queen and asked the direction of the
Scottish Chiefs, another wheat ship, he awkwardly capsized himself.
The man who was standing the anchor-watch ran down the gangway and
hauled him out of the water. This was what he wanted, to get
aboard the ship; and the next thing he expected was to be taken on
deck and then below to warm up and dry out. But the captain
inhospitably kept him perched on the lowest gang-way step,
shivering miserably and with his feet dangling in the water, till
we, out of very pity, rowed in from the darkness and took him off.
The jokes and gibes of the awakened crew sounded anything but sweet
in our ears, and even the two Italians climbed up on the rail and
laughed down at us long and maliciously.
"That's all right," Charley said in a low voice, which I only could
hear. "I'm mighty glad it's not us that's laughing first. We'll
save our laugh to the end, eh, lad?"
He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he finished, but it seemed to
me that there was more determination than hope in his voice.
It would have been possible for us to secure the aid of United
States marshals and board the English ship, backed by Government
authority. But the instructions of the Fish Commission were to the
effect that the patrolmen should avoid complications, and this one,
did we call on the higher powers, might well end in a pretty
international tangle.
The second week of the siege drew to its close, and there was no
sign of change in the situation. On the morning of the fourteenth
day the change came, and it came in a guise as unexpected and
startling to us as it was to the men we were striving to capture.
Charley and I, after our customary night vigil by the side of the
Lancashire Queen, rowed into the Solana Wharf.
"Hello!" cried Charley, in surprise. "In the name of reason and
common sense, what is that? Of all unmannerly craft did you ever
see the like?"
Well might he exclaim, for there, tied up to the dock, lay the
strangest looking launch I had ever seen. Not that it could be
called a launch, either, but it seemed to resemble a launch more
than any other kind of boat. It was seventy feet long, but so
narrow was it, and so bare of superstructure, that it appeared much
smaller than it really was. It was built wholly of steel, and was
painted black. Three smokestacks, a good distance apart and raking
well aft, arose in single file amidships; while the bow, long and
lean and sharp as a knife, plainly advertised that the boat was
made for speed. Passing under the stern, we read Streak, painted
in small white letters.
Charley and I were consumed with curiosity. In a few minutes we
were on board and talking with an engineer who was watching the
sunrise from the deck. He was quite willing to satisfy our
curiosity, and in a few minutes we learned that the Streak had come
in after dark from San Francisco; that this was what might be
called the trial trip; and that she was the property of Silas Tate,
a young miningmillionaire of California, whose fad was high-speed
yachts. There was some talk about turbine engines, direct
application of steam, and the absence of pistons, rods, and cranks,
- all of which was beyond me, for I was familiar only with sailing
craft; but I did understand the last words of the engineer.
"Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour, though you
wouldn't think it," he concluded proudly.
"Say it again, man! Say it again!" Charley exclaimed in an excited
voice.
"Four thousand horse-power and forty-five miles an hour," the
engineer repeated, grinning good-naturedly.
"Where's the owner?" was Charley's next question. "Is there any
way I can speak to him?"
The engineer shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. He's asleep,
you see."
At that moment a young man in blue uniform came on deck farther aft
and stood regarding the sunrise.
"There he is, that's him, that's Mr. Tate," said the engineer.
Charley walked aft and spoke to him, and while he talked earnestly
the young man listened with an amused expression on his face. He
must have inquired about the depth of water close in to the shore
at Turner's Shipyard, for I could see Charley making gestures and
explaining. A few minutes later he came back in high glee.
"Come on lad," he said. "On to the dock with you. We've got
them!"
It was our good fortune to leave the Streak when we did, for a
little later one of the spy fishermen appeared. Charley and I took
up our accustomed places, on the stringer-piece, a little ahead of
the Streak and over our own boat, where we could comfortably watch
the Lancashire Queen. Nothing occurred till about nine o'clock,
when we saw the two Italians leave the ship and pull along their
side of the triangle toward the shore. Charley looked as
unconcerned as could be, but before they had covered a quarter of
the distance, he whispered to me:
"Forty-five miles an hour . . . nothing can save them . . . they
are ours!"
Slowly the two men rowed along till they were nearly in line with
the windmill. This was the point where we always jumped into our
salmon boat and got up the sail, and the two men, evidently
expecting it, seemed surprised when we gave no sign.
When they were directly in line with the windmill, as near to the
shore as to the ship, and nearer the shore than we had ever allowed
them before, they grew suspicious. We followed them through the
glasses, and saw them standing up in the skiff and trying to find
out what we were doing. The spy fisherman, sitting beside us on
the stringer-piece was likewise puzzled. He could not understand
our inactivity. The men in the skiff rowed nearer the shore, but
stood up again and scanned it, as if they thought we might be in
hiding there. But a man came out on the beach and waved a
handkerchief to indicate that the coast was clear. That settled
them. They bent to the oars to make a dash for it. Still Charley
waited. Not until they had covered three-quarters of the distance
from the Lancashire Queen, which left them hardly more than a
quarter of a mile to gain the shore, did Charley slap me on the
shoulder and cry:
"They're ours! They're ours!"
We ran the few steps to the side of the Streak and jumped aboard.
Stern and bow lines were cast off in a jiffy. The Streak shot
ahead and away from the wharf. The spy fisherman we had left
behind on the stringer-piece pulled out a revolver and fired five
shots into the air in rapid succession. The men in the skiff gave
instant heed to the warning, for we could see them pulling away
like mad.
But if they pulled like mad, I wonder how our progress can be
described? We fairly flew. So frightful was the speed with which
we displaced the water, that a wave rose up on either side our bow
and foamed aft in a series of three stiff, up-standing waves, while
astern a great crested billow pursued us hungrily, as though at
each moment it would fall aboard and destroy us. The Streak was
pulsing and vibrating and roaring like a thing alive. The wind of
our progress was like a gale - a forty-five-mile gale. We could
not face it and draw breath without choking and strangling. It
blew the smoke straight back from the mouths of the smoke-stacks at
a direct right angle to the perpendicular. In fact, we were
travelling as fast as an express train. "We just streaked it," was
the way Charley told it afterward, and I think his description
comes nearer than any I can give.
As for the Italians in the skiff - hardly had we started, it seemed
to me, when we were on top of them. Naturally, we had to slow down
long before we got to them; but even then we shot past like a
whirlwind and were compelled to circle back between them and the
shore. They had rowed steadily, rising from the thwarts at every
stroke, up to the moment we passed them, when they recognized
Charley and me. That took the last bit of fight out of them. They
hauled in their oars, and sullenly submitted to arrest.
"Well, Charley," Neil Partington said, as we discussed it on the
wharf afterward, "I fail to see where your boasted imagination came
into play this time."
But Charley was true to his hobby. "Imagination?" he demanded,
pointing to the Streak. "Look at that! just look at it! If the
invention of that isn't imagination, I should like to know what
is."
"Of course," he added, "it's the other fellow's imagination, but it
did the work all the same."
CHARLEY'S COUP
Perhaps our most laughable exploit on the fish patrol, and at the
same time our most dangerous one, was when we rounded in, at a
single haul, an even score of wrathful fishermen. Charley called
it a "coop," having heard Neil Partington use the term; but I think
he misunderstood the word, and thought it meant "coop," to catch,
to trap. The fishermen, however, coup or coop, must have called it
a Waterloo, for it was the severest stroke ever dealt them by the
fish patrol, while they had invited it by open and impudent
defiance of the law.
During what is called the "open season" the fishermen might catch
as many salmon as their luck allowed and their boats could hold.
But there was one important restriction. From sun-down Saturday
night to sun-up Monday morning, they were not permitted to set a
net. This was a wise provision on the part of the Fish Commission,
for it was necessary to give the spawning salmon some opportunity
to ascend the river and lay their eggs. And this law, with only an
occasional violation, had been obediently observed by the Greek
fishermen who caught salmon for the canneries and the market.
One Sunday morning, Charley received a telephone call from a friend
in Collinsville, who told him that the full force of fishermen was
out with its nets. Charley and I jumped into our salmon boat and
started for the scene of the trouble. With a light favoring wind
at our back we went through the Carquinez Straits, crossed Suisun
Bay, passed the Ship Island Light, and came upon the whole fleet at
work.
But first let me describe the method by which they worked. The net
used is what is known as a gill-net. It has a simple diamond-
shaped mesh which measures at least seven and one-half inches
between the knots. From five to seven and even eight hundred feet
in length, these nets are only a few feet wide. They are not
stationary, but float with the current, the upper edge supported on
the surface by floats, the lower edge sunk by means of leaden
weights,
This arrangement keeps the net upright in the current and
effectually prevents all but the smaller fish from ascending the
river. The salmon, swimming near the surface, as is their custom,
run their heads through these meshes, and are prevented from going
on through by their larger girth of body, and from going back
because of their gills, which catch in the mesh. It requires two
fishermen to set such a net, - one to row the boat, while the
- careless [´keəlis]
a.粗心的；草率的 (初中英语单词) - patience [´peiʃəns] n.忍耐(力)；耐心；坚韧 (初中英语单词)
- imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- ashore [ə´ʃɔ:] ad.向岸上 (初中英语单词)
- thoroughly [´θʌrəli] ad.完全地，彻底地 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- resemble [ri´zembəl] vt.类似，象 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- plainly [´pleinli] ad.平坦地；简单地 (初中英语单词)
- curiosity [,kjuəri´ɔsiti] n.好奇；奇事；珍品 (初中英语单词)
- willing [´wiliŋ] a.情愿的，乐意的 (初中英语单词)
- california [,kæli´fɔ:njə] n.加利福尼亚 (初中英语单词)
- absence [´æbsəns] n.不在，缺席；缺乏 (初中英语单词)
- fisherman [´fiʃəmən] n.渔民，渔夫，打鱼人 (初中英语单词)
- likewise [´laikwaiz] ad.同样地；也，又 (初中英语单词)
- succession [sək´seʃən] n.继任；继承(权) (初中英语单词)
- series [´siəri:z] n.连续；系列；丛书 (初中英语单词)
- aboard [ə´bɔ:d] ad.&prep.在...上 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- circle [´sə:kəl] n.圆圈 v.环绕；盘旋 (初中英语单词)
- steadily [´stedili] ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- provision [prə´viʒən] n.供应；规定；条款 (初中英语单词)
- ascend [ə´send] v.登；上升；追溯 (初中英语单词)
- arrangement [ə´reindʒmənt] n.整理；排列；筹备 (初中英语单词)
- alongside [əlɔŋ´said] ad.在旁 prep.横靠 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- determination [di,tə:mi´neiʃən] n.决心；决定 (高中英语单词)
- commission [kə´miʃən] n.委任(状) vt.委任 (高中英语单词)
- unexpected [ʌniks´pektid] a.突然的；意外的 (高中英语单词)
- customary [´kʌstəməri] a.通常的；惯例的 (高中英语单词)
- launch [lɔ:ntʃ] vt.发动 n.发射；汽艇 (高中英语单词)
- streak [stri:k] n.纹理 v.用线条(条纹) (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- mining [´mainiŋ] n.采矿；矿业 (高中英语单词)
- millionaire [,miljə´neə] n.百万富翁 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- regarding [ri´gɑ:diŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- comfortably [´kʌmfətəbli] ad.舒适地 (高中英语单词)
- suspicious [sə´spiʃəs] a.可疑的，多疑的 (高中英语单词)
- frightful [´fraitfəl] a.可怕的；不愉快的 (高中英语单词)
- exploit [´eksplɔit] n.功绩 vt.剥削；开发 (高中英语单词)
- salmon [´sæmən] n.鲑，大马哈鱼 (高中英语单词)
- restriction [ri´strikʃən] n.限制；限定；约束 (高中英语单词)
- upright [´ʌprait] a.直立的 ad.直立地 (高中英语单词)
- awkwardly [´ɔ:kwədli] a.笨拙地；棘手地 (英语四级单词)
- triangle [´traiæŋgəl] n.三角(形)；三角关系 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- revolver [ri´vɔlvə] n.左轮手枪；旋转者 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- billow [´biləu] n.巨浪 v.(使)翻腾 (英语四级单词)
- perpendicular [,pə:pən´dikjulə] a.垂直的 n.正交 (英语四级单词)
- patrol [pə´trəul] n.巡逻 v.巡逻(查) (英语四级单词)
- violation [,vaiə´leiʃən] n.破坏；冒犯；侵害 (英语四级单词)
- miserably [´mizərəbli] ad.悲惨地；糟糕地 (英语六级单词)
- sullenly [´sʌlənli] ad.不高兴地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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