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Updated: June 11, 2025
Dickie Lang walked coolly to the rail. "Sure I'm pulling your nets," she said. "I've got them all aboard. And that's where they're going to stay until you pay me for the fish your outfit took from my nets." "I never take your fish. I don't know " "Oh, yes you do, Mascola. Boris laid around me and robbed my nets. There's my webbing lying right where I put it out.
"Mascola," Gregory repeated. "Why, he's been decent enough the last two or three weeks." "I know it," she interrupted. "That's what has me guessing. It isn't like Mascola to be that way. He's been checking up on us right along, but he hasn't bothered any of our boats since he lost the Roma. It's about time he showed his hand." "We have nearly as many boats as he has now," Gregory observed.
She's kind of adopted you and she told me to look out for you." Soon they were discussing the new speed-boat and its practicability at the present time should it be proved a success. "Mascola ran across our trammels this morning with a dragnet," the girl explained. "If you had had that boat, you might have stopped them.
"The way things are going now," Bronson observed, "it won't be long before we're building a new boat for Mascola." "What do you mean by that? Has he seen this one?" The boatman shook his head. "You needn't be afraid of that," he answered. "What I meant was that Mascola is hammering the Fuor d'Italia to pieces with his trips to Diablo in that rough water." "Does Mascola go often to Diablo?"
But if we do have to go all the way we've got to be at Legonia before four o'clock. We've beaten Mascola but we'll lose all we've gained if we don't beat Rock." Hawkins sensed that something important was taking place and straightway determined to accompany the party. A few minutes later the Richard and the Pelican rounded the tip of San Anselmo and headed into the storm.
But only the soft slap of the waves against the hull of the launch disturbed the stillness. Mascola had escaped him; had noted the clearing and heard the sound of pursuit; had doubled back into the fog bank. Anguish took possession of his heart at the thought as he reached for the switch. But neither Gregory nor Dickie Lang heard the rasp of the starting mechanism.
Mascola strove vainly with shouts and curses to stem the tide of his retreating vessels, but the boats brushed by him and continued on their way. Soon the exodus became a rout with hull scraping hull in the effort of the alien boats to gain sea-way in the channel.
When they opened again, the temptation had passed and Mascola was walking again to the shadow. From the ledge above the cave a bright ray of light followed the figure of the Italian. Mascola leaped to cover behind a huge rock. The same instant the roar of a pistol shot deafened Gregory's ear. As Smith fired into the air to give the signal to the men without, he cried: "Hands up, men.
Things were coming his way too from other sources. He took out his leather wallet and ran over a number of bills of high denomination. Then he took another drink and smiled at the ceiling. It had been such easy money. Much easier than fishing. A knock sounded at the street-door. Mascola shoved the wallet again into his pocket and hastily removed his bottle of Amontillado. "Come in," he called.
The tunnel-like passage, which only himself knew, would lead him to the beach. While the Italian delayed the attacking party would be his chance to take to the boat. In the fog he could make his escape. By daybreak he could make the Mexican coast. Then he would be safe. Of Mascola he thought but little, save as a means to an end. It would serve the Italian right.
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