tales of the fish patrol-第21章

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I　struggled　around　to　no　purpose　in　the　bottom　of　the　junk；　while

my　legs　and　arms　were　tied　and　my　mouth　securely　bound　in　what　I

afterward　found　to　be　a　cotton　shirt。　　Then　I　was　left　lying　in　the

bottom。　　Yellow　Handkerchief　took　the　tiller；　issuing　his　orders　in

whispers；　and　from　our　position　at　the　time；　and　from　the

alteration　of　the　sail；　which　I　could　dimly　make　out　above　me　as　a

blot　against　the　stars；　I　knew　the　junk　was　being　headed　into　the

mouth　of　a　small　slough　which　emptied　at　that　point　into　San　Rafael

Creek。



In　a　couple　of　minutes　we　ran　softly　alongside　the　bank；　and　the

sail　was　silently　lowered。　　The　Chinese　kept　very　quiet。　　Yellow

Handkerchief　sat　down　in　the　bottom　alongside　of　me；　and　I　could

feel　him　straining　to　repress　his　raspy；　hacking　cough。　　Possibly

seven　or　eight　minutes　later　I　heard　Charley's　voice　as　the

Reindeer　went　past　the　mouth　of　the　slough。



〃I　can't　tell　you　how　relieved　I　am；〃　I　could　plainly　hear　him

saying　to　Neil；　〃that　the　lad　has　finished　with　the　fish　patrol

without　accident。〃



Here　Neil　said　something　which　I　could　not　catch；　and　then

Charley's　voice　went　on：



〃The　youngster　takes　naturally　to　the　water；　and　if；　when　he

finishes　high　school；　he　takes　a　course　in　navigation　and　goes　deep

sea；　I　see　no　reason　why　he　shouldn't　rise　to　be　master　of　the

finest　and　biggest　ship　afloat。〃



It　was　all　very　flattering　to　me；　but　lying　there；　bound　and　gagged

by　my　own　prisoners；　with　the　voices　growing　faint　and　fainter　as

the　Reindeer　slipped　on　through　the　darkness　toward　San　Rafael；　I

must　say　I　was　not　in　quite　the　proper　situation　to　enjoy　my

smiling　future。　　With　the　Reindeer　went　my　last　hope。　　What　was　to

happen　next　I　could　not　imagine；　for　the　Chinese　were　a　different

race　from　mine；　and　from　what　I　knew　I　was　confident　that　fair　play

was　no　part　of　their　make…up。



After　waiting　a　few　minutes　longer；　the　crew　hoisted　the　lateen

sail；　and　Yellow　Handkerchief　steered　down　toward　the　mouth　of　San

Rafael　Creek。　　The　tide　was　getting　lower；　and　he　had　difficulty　in

escaping　the　mud…banks。　　I　was　hoping　he　would　run　aground；　but　he

succeeded　in　making　the　Bay　without　accident。



As　we　passed　out　of　the　creek　a　noisy　discussion　arose；　which　I

knew　related　to　me。　　Yellow　Handkerchief　was　vehement；　but　the

other　four　as　vehemently　opposed　him。　　It　was　very　evident　that　he

advocated　doing　away　with　me　and　that　they　were　afraid　of　the

consequences。　　I　was　familiar　enough　with　the　Chinese　character　to

know　that　fear　alone　restrained　them。　　But　what　plan　they　offered

in　place　of　Yellow　Handkerchief's　murderous　one；　I　could　not　make

out。



My　feelings；　as　my　fate　hung　in　the　balance；　may　be　guessed。　　The

discussion　developed　into　a　quarrel；　in　the　midst　of　which　Yellow

Handkerchief　unshipped　the　heavy　tiller　and　sprang　toward　me。　　But

his　four　companions　threw　themselves　between；　and　a　clumsy　struggle

took　place　for　possession　of　the　tiller。　　In　the　end　Yellow

Handkerchief　was　overcome；　and　sullenly　returned　to　the　steering；

while　they　soundly　berated　him　for　his　rashness。



Not　long　after；　the　sail　was　run　down　and　the　junk　slowly　urged

forward　by　means　of　the　sweeps。　　I　felt　it　ground　gently　on　the

soft　mud。　　Three　of　the　Chinese　…　they　all　wore　long　sea…boots　…

got　over　the　side；　and　the　other　two　passed　me　across　the　rail。

With　Yellow　Handkerchief　at　my　legs　and　his　two　companions　at　my

shoulders；　they　began　to　flounder　along　through　the　mud。　　After

some　time　their　feet　struck　firmer　footing；　and　I　knew　they　were

carrying　me　up　some　beach。　　The　location　of　this　beach　was　not

doubtful　in　my　mind。　　It　could　be　none　other　than　one　of　the　Marin

Islands；　a　group　of　rocky　islets　which　lay　off　the　Marin　County

shore。



When　they　reached　the　firm　sand　that　marked　high　tide；　I　was

dropped；　and　none　too　gently。　　Yellow　Handkerchief　kicked　me

spitefully　in　the　ribs；　and　then　the　trio　floundered　back　through

the　mud　to　the　junk。　　A　moment　later　I　heard　the　sail　go　up　and

slat　in　the　wind　as　they　drew　in　the　sheet。　　Then　silence　fell；　and

I　was　left　to　my　own　devices　for　getting　free。



I　remembered　having　seen　tricksters　writhe　and　squirm　out　of　ropes

with　which　they　were　bound；　but　though　I　writhed　and　squirmed　like

a　good　fellow；　the　knots　remained　as　hard　as　ever；　and　there　was　no

appreciable　slack。　　In　the　course　of　my　squirming；　however；　I

rolled　over　upon　a　heap　of　clam…shells　…　the　remains；　evidently；　of

some　yachting　party's　clam…bake。　　This　gave　me　an　idea。　　My　hands

were　tied　behind　my　back；　and；　clutching　a　shell　in　them；　I　rolled

over　and　over；　up　the　beach；　till　I　came　to　the　rocks　I　knew　to　be

there。



Rolling　around　and　searching；　I　finally　discovered　a　narrow

crevice；　into　which　I　shoved　the　shell。　　The　edge　of　it　was　sharp；

and　across　the　sharp　edge　I　proceeded　to　saw　the　rope　that　bound　my

wrists。　　The　edge　of　the　shell　was　also　brittle；　and　I　broke　it　by

bearing　too　heavily　upon　it。　　Then　I　rolled　back　to　the　heap　and

returned　with　as　many　shells　as　I　could　carry　in　both　hands。　　I

broke　many　shells；　cut　my　hands　a　number　of　times；　and　got　cramps

in　my　legs　from　my　strained　position　and　my　exertions。



While　I　was　suffering　from　the　cramps；　and　resting；　I　heard　a

familiar　halloo　drift　across　the　water。　　It　was　Charley；　searching

for　me。　　The　gag　in　my　mouth　prevented　me　from　replying；　and　I

could　only　lie　there；　helplessly　fuming；　while　he　rowed　past　the

island　and　his　voice　slowly　lost　itself　in　the　distance。



I　returned　to　the　sawing　process；　and　at　the　end　of　half　an　hour

succeeded　in　severing　the　rope。　　The　rest　was　easy。　　My　hands　once

free；　it　was　a　matter　of　minutes　to　loosen　my　legs　and　to　take　the

gag　out　of　my　mouth。　　I　ran　around　the　island　to　make　sure　it　was

an　island　and　not　by　any　chance　a　portion　of　the　mainland。　　An

island　it　certainly　was；　one　of　the　Marin　group；　fringed　with　a

sandy　beach　and　surrounded　by　a　sea　of　mud。　　Nothing　remained　but

to　wait　till　daylight　and　to　keep　warm；　for　it　was　a　cold；　raw

night　for　California；　with　just　enough　wind　to　pierce　the　skin　and

cause　one　to　shiver。



To　keep　up　the　circulation；　I　ran　around　the　island　a　dozen　times

or　so；　and　clambered　across　its　rocky　backbone　as　many　times　more　…

all　of　which　was　of　greater　service　to　me；　as　I　afterward

discovered；　than　merely　to　warm　me　up。　　In　the　midst　of　this

exercise　I　wondered　if　I　had　lost　anything　out　of　my　pockets　while

rolling　over　and　over　in　the　sand。　　A　search　showed　the　absence　of

my　revolver　and　pocket…knife。　　The　first　Yellow　Handkerchief　had

taken；　but　the　knife　had　been　lost　in　the　sand。



I　was　hunting　for　it　when　the　sound　of　rowlocks　came　to　my　ears。

At　first；　of　course；　I　thought　of　Charley；　but　on　second　thought　I

knew　Charley　would　be　calling　out　as　he　rowed　along。　　A　sudden

premonition　of　danger　seized　me。　　The　Marin　Islands　are　lonely

places；　chance　visitors　in　the　dead　of　night　are　hardly　to　be

expected。　　What　if　it　were　Yellow　Handkerchief？　　The　sound　made　by

the　rowlocks　grew　more　distinct。　　I　crouched　in　the　sand　and

listened　intently。　　The　boat；　which　I　judged　a　small　skiff　from　the

quick　stroke　of　the　oars；　was　landing　in　the　mud　about　fifty　yards

up　the　beach。　　I　heard　a　raspy；　hacking　cough；　and　my　heart　stood

still。　　It　was　Yellow　Handkerchief。　　Not　to　be　robbed　of　his

revenge　by　his　more　cautious　companions；　he　had　stolen　away　from

the　village　and　come　back　alone。



I　did　some　swift　thinking。　　I　was　unarmed　and　helpless　on　a　tiny

islet；　and　a　yellow　barbarian；　whom　I　had　reason　to　fear；　was

coming　after　me。　　Any　place　was　safer　than　the　island；　and　I　turned

instinctively　to　the　water；　or　rather　to　the　mud。　　As　he　began　to

flounder　ashore　through　the　mud；　I　started　to　flounder　out　into　it；

going　over　the　same　course　which　the　Chinese　had　taken　in　landing

me　and　in　returning　to　the　junk。



Yellow　Handkerchief；　believing　me　to　be