CHAPTER IX
DIABLO LUCK
Busy days followed for Kenneth Gregory, and with the loyal support ofJack McCoy, much was accomplished.
The Legonia Fish Cannery wakened from its long sleep and took on newlife. From the receiving floor to the warehouse everything had beencarefully overhauled and put into first-class shape. Necessary repairsand alterations had been made. Supplies and material were on hand. Anucleus of skilled labor had been carefully selected by McCoy andbrought to train the service men who came to Legonia on every incomingtrain.
The sleepy little fishing village viewed the vanguard of the ex-soldierswith sullen indifference. Silvanus Rock had told them not to worry theirheads over the "efforts of an impractical dreamer to turn the townupside down." And who knew, if Rock didn't? As the days went by,however, and the invasion became more noticeable, the alien element ofthe fishing colony began to experience a feeling of sharp resentmentagainst the new owner of the Legonia cannery and his wild scheme. Butagain the foremost citizen had come to the fore and quieted theirfears, turning them into open contempt and ridicule by his words:
"What can he do with a bunch of crippled rag-a-muffins? Look at them foryourselves. There's hardly a whole man among them. I give him a month togo to the wall. It's the old saying of a 'fool and his money.'"
The opening of the new cannery presented every appearance of proving thetruth of Rock's prophecy and caused the aliens to laugh openly.
"How can they run without fish?" sneered Mascola as he checked the catchof the incoming boats. "They haven't had enough in a week to pay them tokeep up steam."
Ten days after the opening Gregory was asking Jack McCoy the samequestion.
"I tell you, Mac, something has to be done. The Lang boats are fallingdown on the job. You'll admit we haven't had a paying run since westarted and expenses are climbing."
McCoy nodded. "I know it," he agreed. "But Dick has had hard luck. Noneof the boats have brought in much lately. The fish have taken out tosea. Then Mascola's men have been causing a lot of trouble."
"That's just it," Gregory interrupted. "The girl's tackled too big ajob. I was afraid of it all the time. She's all right, Jack. I'm notsaying a word against her. But she was foolish to get on her'high-horse' and turn down my proposition. It's a man's job to get allthe fish we're going to need. Not a woman's. Of course I know she'sdoing her best," he went on. "But we can't go on this way. If she can'tmake good on her contract we'll have to take it out of her hands. I'monly going to give her a few more days."
"Then what?" McCoy questioned.
"Then we'll run things ourselves. I've been figuring on it for three orfour days. That's why I'm having all our boats put in shape."
"How will you man them?" asked McCoy quickly.
"I've arranged for that too. The last time I was in the city I lined upa bunch of ex-navy men. They are fair sailors and have had someexperience in handling launches and small boats. I'm going to bring themdown here the same as I figured at first. If the girl wants to help mewith her men, all right. If not, we'll go it alone. It's a ground-hogcase. We've got to get the fish."
"I wish Dick wasn't so darned independent," observed McCoy. "If it wasanybody else, they'd jump at your offer."
"That's the trouble," Gregory admitted. "She's a woman and she's mightyhard to talk out of an idea she sets her mind on. If I was dealing witha man I'd have come to a show-down long before this. As it is, I'm goingto see her this afternoon and try to get down to brass tacks."
A screech of the steam whistle interrupted further speech and the twomen jumped to their feet and hurried out on the floor of the cannery atthe signal to resume work.
"Only have enough to run about an hour," McCoy answered in response toGregory's question concerning the supply of fish on hand. And as henoticed the frown on his employer's face, he supplemented: "We've hadenough the last few days to break the crew in anyway."
"That's something, but it isn't good enough," Gregory answered. "You'refixed right now to handle three times what we're getting. And I'm payingfor it. I'm not worrying about things in here, Mac. Everything is goingfine."
He paused suddenly and his face glowed with enthusiasm as he walkednearer the cutting-bench.
"Look at the way those poor blind fellows are taking to their job, Mac,"he whispered. "They can't tell black from white but watch them work.They'll be doing as much in a week as a man with two good eyes. How areyou coming, Dorgan?"
He addressed a cutter working at the nearest bench. The blind man turnedquickly.
"Fine, Capt. It's getting easier all the time. 'Twon't be long beforeI'll be making real wages at this job."
They passed from the blind cutters and came to the capping machine wherea man with an artificial leg was being instructed in soldering the cans.Again Gregory's eyes expressed his satisfaction.
"That's fine, Carlson," he commended. "You're getting on fine."
The man at the machine nodded. "Nothing much to it," he answeredcheerfully. "Got kind of tired standing at first. But I don't notice itmuch now."
Kenneth Gregory strove to express his appreciation of McCoy's work asthey came to one of the empty warehouses, but the manager refused totake the credit.
"It was your idea," he said, "you paid me to carry it out. At first Ididn't think much of it. But now I believe it's going to work. The menare tickled to death. I never had a crew that tried so hard to learn orpicked it up so quickly. I can handle an average run with them right nowand they've only been working broken hours for a week."
Gregory turned quickly to McCoy and said earnestly: "It's a big idea,Mac. It will work. It's got to work. It's getting bigger all the time.And I'll be damned if I'm going to have a girl hang me up by fallingdown on her job."
He shut his lips tight as he drew a blue-print from his pocket andspread it out on an empty case.
"Now I want to go over these plans for making a bunk-house out of thisbuilding. The boys can't get a decent place to stay in the town. Thecontractor will be here in half an hour. After I've closed with him I'mgoing down to the Lang dock and see the girl."
* * * * *
Dickie Lang paced the docks in nervous expectancy while she checked inher returning fleet and conferred with one of her fishing captains.
"I'll tell you, Tom, we've got to get them. I'm under contract to supplyMr. Gregory with fish and I can't fall down like this. Look here."Shoving a tally-sheet before his eyes, she pointed to the totals. "Notenough there to last him half a day. He's beginning to eat them up.We've got to get more."
"But if they ain't runnin', what you going to do?"
"Go after them," she snapped. "Mascola's getting fish. He's going out tosea for them. He brought in a good haul yesterday from Diablo. That'swhy I sent the big boats over there with the _Petrel_ scouting ahead."
The fisherman shook his head dubiously.
"You're takin' a tall chance," he said slowly. "Things happen out Diabloway. Your dad never could make it stick out there. He lost a heap aroundthat devil-island. That's why he give up fishin' out there."
"He didn't give it up," the girl flashed, "any more than I'm going togive it up. Diablo's got your goats, and you know it. There's alwaysfish around the island and I'll bet you two to one when the fleet comesback they'll have them to burn."
Turning with disgust, Dickie walked to the end of the dock and sought topierce the shifting curtain of mist which hung about the inlet. It cameto her suddenly that in her anger at Gregory's proposal, she had made abig promise. Moreover she had entered into a contract which she wasfinding more difficult to fulfill than she had imagined. Perhaps she wasa fool not to have taken up the cannery-owner's proposition. At least itwas worth considering. By accepting his terms all the worry would havebeen shifted to him and she would have been able to play safe. In a yearshe would have been out of debt. With her boats paid for, she couldafford to be independent. Now, she was going further behind each day.Worse than that, she was falling dow
n on her contract.
* * * * *
Finishing his business with the contractor a half-hour before closingtime, Gregory hurried down to the Lang wharf.
He found the girl busied with her tally-sheets and stepped behind a rowof fish-boxes and waited. From his position he could see the neighboringdock where a number of alien fishermen were at work mending nets. Apartfrom the others was the huge figure of a red-shirted man standingmotionless, scowling in the direction of the Lang wharf. As he lookedcloser, he became conscious of the fact that he had seen the red-shirtedgiant before.
Boisterous laughter floated across the intervening strip of water and ascarlet sleeve flashed as the big man shook his fist threateningly atthe rival dock.
"They are kidding the Russian about losing the _Roma_ and getting cannedby the boss," explained a fisherman who was passing by. "Boris is sorerthan a boiled owl at being run on the rocks by a girl."
Gregory watched the excited foreigner in silence. A man like that couldcause a lot of trouble. Suddenly he heard the sound of low voices on theother side of the lane of fish-boxes.
"What's that got to do with it? We've got to live as well as she has. Weain't gettin' enough I tell you, and you know it. What's the use ofbein' a damn fool?"
The words died away in a low mumble as the men passed on. Gregoryemerged from his cover and looked after the two fishermen. Then henoticed the girl had finished her calculations and hurried toward her.
"I suppose you want to know what I have," she anticipated. "Well, Ihaven't much yet. If you stay round a little while though I'll show youa real haul. I'm expecting my boats back at any minute from El Diablo."
Gregory scarcely knew how to begin the interview. The girl was clearlyunreasonable and flared up at the slightest intimation that she wasunable to manage her own business. And yet it was perfectly clear thatshe could not.
"Fish is what we're needing right now," he said with blunt emphasis."We're ready to go. McCoy has a good crew and he can handle them fast. Awhole lot faster than we've been getting them," he added.
She interrupted as he knew she would.
"Well, I'm doing my level darnedest," she retorted. "If I wasn't I guessI wouldn't have risked my best boats at Diablo in a fog." As Gregorysaid nothing in the way of argument, she challenged: "Do you think youcould do any better?"
"Yes," he answered without any hesitation, "I think I could. That is ifyou would help me. I think if we would pull together on this propositionwe could do a whole lot. Right now you are threatened with labortrouble."
"You don't know what you're talking about. My men are loyal to me andalways have been. They'll stick from start to finish."
Gregory related the conversation he had overheard a few minutes before.As he finished, he noted that a worried expression crept to the girl'seyes, though she said:
"What's that amount to? There are always some who are dissatisfied andtry to cause trouble. I'm well rid of a bunch like that anyway. Thereare not many of them."
It was on Gregory's tongue to broach his proposal when he saw the girllooking eagerly past him into the wall of fog. Through the veil hecaught the dim outline of an approaching fishing-boat.
"Here comes the _Curlew_ back from Diablo. Before you say anything morewait until you see what luck they've had. If I don't miss my guess we'llhave fish enough for you now all right."
Together they walked down the steep gangway to the swaying float.
"If I can't get them at Diablo, I can't get them anywhere," exclaimedDickie Lang. Then she shouted to the captain of the _Curlew_: "Whatluck, Jones?"
From the gray void of fog a deep voice floated back:
"Diablo luck. Never got nothin' and the _Petrel_ was smashed to hell."