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Updated: May 9, 2025
They're riding too low to try to make the mainland. We'd have to buck the storm all the way over. Best run before it as long as we can. Then we can gain the lea of the other island and head in at Cavalan and leave some of the boats there. May have to run a few of them on the beach. We ought to make the little harbor on the south shore of San Anselmo in a couple of hours."
It was high noon at Cavalan when the Pelican reentered the harbor after cruising in the open sea to pick up any words that might come from McCoy over the radio. Gregory watched the progress of the Pelican from the deck of the Albatross. "Looks as if they'd picked up something at last," he observed. "Hope it's from the fleet, saying they arrived at the cannery all right."
Then Hawkins' professional curiosity got the better of him. "What's the big idea?" he asked. Gregory explained, concluding optimistically: "I'm not worrying much. Farnsworth can fix things up all right. Then we'll go back to Cavalan." "If he doesn't you can put up a bond for double the amount of the claim," Hawkins advised. "That will stay the attachment until you can raise the cash.
The girl's next words, however, made him feel a little better. "There would be no use lying in at Northwest Harbor at Diablo," she was saying. "The anchorage is too small and Mascola's boats will overcrowd it. If you tried to beach anything there, you'd wreck it. At Cavalan we can check things up, transfer the fish if we have to and get them right out.
We've beaten Mascola, hands down, so why should we care?" It was well toward morning before the last of the cannery fleet staggered into the little harbor of Cavalan. Then came the first opportunity to reckon the cost of Mascola's defeat at Diablo. Gregory's first thought was for the personnel of his fleet.
Albatross picked up crew. All saved. Wire what to do. Twelve boats here. Others at Cavalan for repairs. Jones. Dickie's eyes shone angrily at the message. "Damn them!" she cried. "They got my Curlew." Grasping Gregory's arm, she exclaimed: "There's a bunch of the fleet off San Anselmo on the mainland side. There's some more a few miles down the coast from Cavalan.
In the lea of San Anselmo, sheltered from the storm in the land-locked little harbor of Cavalan, the American fleet rested from its labors. The sailors gathered on the decks and greeted the new day over plates piled high with crisp slices of bacon and fried eggs.
Hawkins placed a hand wearily over his eyes and lapsed into silence. Jack McCoy was at his wit's end. The fishing fleet from Diablo had just arrived, loaded with albacore. The captains reported a rough trip all the way over. They had seen or heard nothing from Gregory since leaving Cavalan. McCoy paced up and down the dock while he superintended the unloading of the fish.
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