BATTLE OF NORTHWEST HARBOR
Convoyed by his fishing fleet, Mascola came steadily on. Cruising to the seaward of the cannery boats he circled, laid to and critically surveyed the bobbing lights in the narrow channel which was flanked on both sides by saw-toothed reefs. The fish were coming from the north and west. Doubtless the American fisherman already had them well "chummed up" with their live bait. He would force an entrance among the cannery boats if they did not give way and take their school. He had done it before. It was simple enough. Directing his boats to follow, he led them on.
Kenneth Gregory stood in the bow of the Pelican with a megaphone and directed the position of the boats which made up his first line of defense. His plan of keeping Mascola away from his fishing fleet was nothing more or less than just straight football formation, with an augmented line to withstand the opposing pressure. The Pelican formed the center of the wedge. To her right and left followed the heavy Diesel-motored vessels with the Curlew and Snipe guarding the extreme ends. Behind the first line came
the reserve which closely covered the fishing-boats cruising the center area. Every boat was at its proper station, awaiting the signal from the Pelican.
It came with Gregory's word to Howard: "All right, Tom. Let's go."
He stood at Howard's side as the fisherman whistled for sea-way and moved his vessel forward with the fleet flanking him astern in V formation. Mascola's boats gave no heed to the signal save to draw closer together and slacken speed as they entered the narrow channel.
Again the cannery boats shrieked a warning and the wedge narrowed with the waterway until only the bare width of a boat separated the beams of the defending vessels. Dead ahead, and only a few boat-lengths away, twinkled the lights of the alien fleet. Gregory grasped the rail of the engine-house and braced himself for the shock. The next instant the foremost of Mascola's boats struck the Pelican a glancing blow on the bow.
The heavy fishing-boat quivered from stem to stern from the impact. Then the powerful Diesel engine came into play. The drunken skipper of the Lura felt his craft being shunted to the side. Before he could gather his wits together, another American boat brushed his outside rail and crowded him forcibly against the craft he had endeavored to ram. Caught between the heavy hulls of the Pelican and Albatross, the Lura grated, beam to beam, her timbers creaking and twisting from the strain, her propeller churning
the water in a vain effort to break through the tong-like grip of the two boats which disputed her passage.
The drunken crew of the Lura surged to the rail with wild cries of rage. The air was filled with flying missiles. Came the sharp snap of breaking glass and the dull thud of heavy objects hurled from the alien craft to the deck of the Pelican.