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Updated: June 11, 2025
The body of Mascola was still in the custody of the local undertaker and Bandrist had been removed to a hospital. But of the men themselves little was said. An era of universal friendliness prevailed throughout the village. At the Lang cottage Aunt Mary was striving vainly to assemble her guests about the table for the evening meal. "The biscuits will be ruined," she pleaded. "Leave the talk go.
If we can get them without breaking the laws it is so much the better. But sometimes when you have steam up you want fish very bad. Then you say, Mascola, I must have fish. Well, I get them for you. There are always fish to be caught in some way or other. They are worth a good deal to you at such a time. Why should you not pay for the extra risk we run in getting them?"
Gregory said nothing but as they drew nearer he exclaimed: "Look! They've got the Pelican sewed up tighter than a drum. Looks like Mascola hasn't tumbled on to the other boat yet." "Can't tell." Dickie searched the darkening water intently. Then she observed: "I don't see Mascola's boat anywhere. Maybe he's cruising the island."
Gregory admitted to himself that there was something masterful about the red-capped stranger, at the same time, repellent. The crowd of aliens moreover, he noticed, fell away respectfully. The newcomer was evidently a personage in the community. Gregory, watching him as he stepped from the launch, instinctively disliked him. "That's Mascola." Blair bit the words savagely.
Then they widened with surprise. He stopped suddenly. His extended arm drooped. For an instant he stood hesitating, wavering. He took a step backward. His crooked arm unbent, dropped slowly to his side. His eyes were held by the open door. "Drop it, Mascola." The sharp command drew the eyes of the laborers to the door and they stopped fingering their knives.
"I want you to move," Mascola said thickly. "My men were here first. Plenty of fish at San Anselmo. Many as here. If you go to the other island there will be no trouble." "And if we stay?" Mascola's passenger looked up quickly at Gregory's words, and the light fell full upon his face. It was Bandrist. "I hope you will not decide to stay," he said slowly.
Before morning we'll have the whole gang rounded up and Mascola with them. I guess the boys are ready to go now." Gregory shivered in his wet clothes and Hawkins pressed his slicker upon him. While the men took their places in the skiff Gregory found Dickie Lang. The girl came into his outstretched arms and clung close to him in the darkness. "Take me with you," she pleaded. "Don't leave me here.
"You think that hasn't anything to do with your quitting me to get more money? All right. I'll show you that it has. Let me ask you some questions. What is Mascola paying his own fishermen? Why should he pay you fellows twice that much? Does he think you'll rob more traps, lay round more nets and run more men off the beach with his seine?
When Bandrist and Mascola reached the Fuor d'Italia, the Italian kicked the dory adrift as the two men climbed aboard. "Pull the hook," he cried, "while I start the motor." "No," Bandrist whispered. "You'd be a fool to do that. The cave was filled with revenue men. That means there's a cutter lying in around here somewhere. Perhaps at the goose-neck. She would spot you in a minute with her search.
Mascola hasn't had her very long and he won't have her much longer if he pounds her like that. I wonder what he's going out to Diablo for in such a hurry." Gregory could not answer. But he made up his mind if he was ever going to find out, he would have to have a faster boat than the Fuor d'Italia. Perhaps Joe Barrows could help him out.
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