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Updated: June 11, 2025
"I'm wondering about the same things our fathers wondered about," she said. As Gregory said nothing, she went on hurriedly: "Did you ever stop to think that if Mascola and that gray boat lay in at Hell-Hole that they are doing it with Bandrist's permission? That means that whatever they are doing there, Bandrist is in on it." She paused abruptly and her eyes rested full on Gregory's face.
I'm not trying to rob you like you robbed me. I just want what's coming to me. Not a cent more. If you give me that I'll throw your webbing over. If you don't I'll trail them every inch of the way to Legonia and cut them into ribbons with the propeller. It's up to you, Mascola." The Italian flashed a glance to the cove where the Roma's angling mast appeared against the beach.
For an instant love alone dominated his heart. "Mascola escaped in the Fuor d'Italia." Dickie's words recalled Gregory to his purpose. The next instant he was pulling at the chain. "I'll take you around the point to the cutter," he called to her as he worked. "You'll be safe there until " "No." The girl's answer was spoken with a determination there was no gainsaying.
Gregory straightened his aching back and looked toward the early morning visitor, but his eyes did not get as far as Mascola. They remained riveted on the launch. Never had he seen such a boat. She poised on the waves like a gull, quivering with potential energy, ready for instant flight.
Directing Bronson to intercept the Italian, Gregory explained: "I want to give Mascola another chance. We're not looking for trouble. He can lay to the seaward but he's got to give us sea-way to get out if it roughens up." The Richard swung wide and came abreast the Fuor d'Italia. Then it came to Mascola that the strange craft on his left had some speed.
Whatever was done for the Roma must be done at once. "What do you want?" he flashed. "Pay for the fish you stole from my nets. From what I saw in your nets I figure I had all of a ton." She glanced at the fish lying on the deck. "You've got about five hundred here. I'll allow you for that. You pay me the difference at three cents. That will be forty-five dollars." Mascola glared.
She jumped to her feet, her eyes glowing with excitement. Even at the distance she could not be deceived. There was only one other craft about with an exhaust like that. Mascola was fleeing from Diablo in the Fuor d'Italia. She sprang to the hood and began pulling on the anchor-chain. Then she stopped suddenly. The man she loved was still on the island. Perhaps he had been wounded. Maybe killed.
Mascola completed his repairs, started his motor and raced away in the direction of his fleet with the Richard running close at his side. But when he came abreast of the cannery fishing-boats, he made no effort to head in. "He don't want to rough it any more with this one," Bronson commented. "I reckon when he looks over his boat it'll mean a job for the shop putting in a few ribs."
And if you go to law, Mascola will bring five witnesses for each of yours and they'll outswear you every time for they can lie faster than a man can write it down." Again she paused and searched the gray border of the receding curtain of night. Far away Gregory could hear the roar of the breakers.
What would twelve hundred dollars have amounted to three months ago? Now, it looked like a million. There was no chance of raising it to-day. He must secure a bond. Rock had played his hand well. The bank president had hit in some way upon a plan of injuring him while he was away. And Rock could injure him. A tie-up at such a time would rob him of all he had gained by beating Mascola at El Diablo.
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