Fishers -- Fiction; Fishing villages -- Fiction; Immigrants -- Fiction; San Francisco Bay Area (Calif.) -- Fiction; Short stories
Still we dashed on, and still the fishermen dashed on behind. The value
of their nets was greater than the fines they would have to pay for
violating the fish laws; so to cast off from their nets and escape, which
they could easily do, would profit them nothing. Further, they remained
by their nets instinctively, as a sailor remains by his ship. And still
further, the desire for vengeance was roused, and we could depend upon it
that they would follow us to the ends of the earth, if we undertook to
tow them that far.
The rifle-firing had ceased, and we looked astern to see what our
prisoners were doing. The boats were strung along at unequal distances
apart, and we saw the four nearest ones bunching together. This was done
by the boat ahead trailing a small rope astern to the one behind. When
this was caught, they would cast off from their net and heave in on the
line till they were brought up to the boat in front. So great was the
speed at which we were travelling, however, that this was very slow work.
Sometimes the men would strain to their utmost and fail to get in an inch
of the rope; at other times they came ahead more rapidly.
When the four boats were near enough together for a man to pass from one
to another, one Greek from each of three got into the nearest boat to us,
taking his rifle with him. This made five in the foremost boat, and it
was plain that their intention was to board us. This they undertook to
do, by main strength and sweat, running hand over hand the float-line of
a net. And though it was slow, and they stopped frequently to rest, they
gradually drew nearer.
Charley smiled at their efforts, and said, “Give her the topsail, Ole.”
The cap at the mainmast head was broken out, and sheet and downhaul
pulled flat, amid a scattering rifle fire from the boats; and the _Mary
Rebecca_ lay over and sprang ahead faster than ever.
But the Greeks were undaunted. Unable, at the increased speed, to draw
themselves nearer by means of their hands, they rigged from the blocks of
their boat sail what sailors call a “watch-tackle.” One of them, held by
the legs by his mates, would lean far over the bow and make the tackle
fast to the float-line. Then they would heave in on the tackle till the
blocks were together, when the manœuvre would be repeated.
“Have to give her the staysail,” Charley said.
Ole Ericsen looked at the straining _Mary Rebecca_ and shook his head.
“It will take der masts out of her,” he said.
“And we’ll be taken out of her if you don’t,” Charley replied.
Ole shot an anxious glance at his masts, another at the boat load of
armed Greeks, and consented.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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