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Charley saw； and said it wasn't a bad idea。 We watched our chance；
and the next low…water slack； after Big Alec had removed the fish
from the line and returned ashore； we went out in the salmon boat。
We had the bearings of the line from shore marks； and we knew we
would have no difficulty in locating it。 The first of the flood
tide was setting in； when we ran below where we thought the line
was stretched and dropped over a fishing…boat anchor。 Keeping a
short rope to the anchor； so that it barely touched the bottom； we
dragged it slowly along until it stuck and the boat fetched up hard
and fast。
〃We've got it；〃 Charley cried。 〃Come on and lend a hand to get it
in。〃
Together we hove up the rope till the anchor I came in sight with
the sturgeon line caught across one of the flukes。 Scores of the
murderous…looking hooks flashed into sight as we cleared the
anchor； and we had just started to run along the line to the end
where we could begin to lift it； when a sharp thud in the boat
startled us。 We looked about； but saw nothing and returned to our
work。 An instant later there was a similar sharp thud and the
gunwale splintered between Charley's body and mine。
〃That's remarkably like a bullet； lad；〃 he said reflectively。 〃And
it's a long shot Big Alec's making。〃
〃And he's using smokeless powder；〃 he concluded； after an
examination of the mile…distant shore。 〃That's why we can't hear
the report。〃
I looked at the shore； but could see no sign of Big Alec； who was
undoubtedly hidden in some rocky nook with us at his mercy。 A
third bullet struck the water； glanced； passed singing over our
heads； and struck the water again beyond。
〃I guess we'd better get out of this；〃 Charley remarked coolly。
〃What do you think； lad？〃
I thought so； too； and said we didn't want the line anyway。
Whereupon we cast off and hoisted the spritsail。 The bullets
ceased at once； and we sailed away； unpleasantly confident that Big
Alec was laughing at our discomfiture。
And more than that； the next day on the fishing wharf； where we
were inspecting nets； he saw fit to laugh and sneer at us； and this
before all the fishermen。 Charley's face went black with anger；
but beyond promising Big Alec that in the end he would surely land
him behind the bars； he controlled himself and said nothing。 The
King of the Greeks made his boast that no fish patrol had ever
taken him or ever could take him； and the fishermen cheered him and
said it was true。 They grew excited； and it looked like trouble
for a while； but Big Alec asserted his kingship and quelled them。
Carmintel also laughed at Charley； and dropped sarcastic remarks；
and made it hard for him。 But Charley refused to be angered；
though he told me in confidence that he intended to capture Big
Alec if it took all the rest of his life to accomplish it。
〃I don't know how I'll do it；〃 he said； 〃but do it I will； as sure
as I am Charley Le Grant。 The idea will come to me at the right
and proper time； never fear。〃
And at the right time it came； and most unexpectedly。 Fully a
month had passed； and we were constantly up and down the river； and
down and up the bay； with no spare moments to devote to the
particular fisherman who ran a Chinese line in the bight of
Turner's Shipyard。 We had called in at Selby's Smelter one
afternoon； while on patrol work； when all unknown to us our
opportunity happened along。 It appeared in the guise of a helpless
yacht loaded with seasick people； so we could hardly be expected to
recognize it as the opportunity。 It was a large sloop…yacht； and
it was helpless inasmuch as the trade…wind was blowing half a gale
and there were no capable sailors aboard。
From the wharf at Selby's we watched with careless interest the
lubberly manoeuvre performed of bringing the yacht to anchor； and
the equally lubberly manoeuvre of sending the small boat ashore。 A
very miserable…looking man in draggled ducks； after nearly swamping
the boat in the heavy seas； passed us the painter and climbed out。
He staggered about as though the wharf were rolling； and told us
his troubles； which were the troubles of the yacht。 The only
rough…weather sailor aboard； the man on whom they all depended； had
been called back to San Francisco by a telegram； and they had
attempted to continue the cruise alone。 The high wind and big seas
of San Pablo Bay had been too much for them； all hands were sick；
nobody knew anything or could do anything； and so they had run in
to the smelter either to desert the yacht or to get somebody to
bring it to Benicia。 In short； did we know of any sailors who
would bring the yacht into Benicia？
Charley looked at me。 The Reindeer was lying in a snug place。 We
had nothing on hand in the way of patrol work till midnight。 With
the wind then blowing； we could sail the yacht into Benicia in a
couple of hours； have several more hours ashore； and come back to
the smelter on the evening train。
〃All right； captain；〃 Charley said to the disconsolate yachtsman；
who smiled in sickly fashion at the title。
〃I'm only the owner；〃 he explained。
We rowed him aboard in much better style than he had come ashore；
and saw for ourselves the helplessness of the passengers。 There
were a dozen men and women； and all of them too sick even to appear
grateful at our coming。 The yacht was rolling savagely； broad on；
and no sooner had the owner's feet touched the deck than he
collapsed and joined； the others。 Not one was able to bear a hand；
so Charley and I between us cleared the badly tangled running gear；
got up sail； and hoisted anchor。
It was a rough trip； though a swift one。 The Carquinez Straits
were a welter of foam and smother； and we came through them wildly
before the wind； the big mainsail alternately dipping and flinging
its boom skyward as we tore along。 But the people did not mind。
They did not mind anything。 Two or three； including the owner；
sprawled in the cockpit； shuddering when the yacht lifted and raced
and sank dizzily into the trough； and between…whiles regarding the
shore with yearning eyes。 The rest were huddled on the cabin floor
among the cushions。 Now and again some one groaned； but for the
most part they were as limp as so many dead persons。
As the bight at Turner's Shipyard opened out； Charley edged into it
to get the smoother water。 Benicia was in view； and we were
bowling along over comparatively easy water； when a speck of a boat
danced up ahead of us； directly in our course。 It was low…water
slack。 Charley and I looked at each other。 No word was spoken；
but at once the yacht began a most astonishing performance； veering
and yawing as though the greenest of amateurs was at the wheel。 It
was a sight for sailormen to see。 To all appearances； a runaway
yacht was careering madly over the bight； and now and again
yielding a little bit to control in a desperate effort to make