CHAPTER XXV
THE BANKER AT THE HELM
Foot by foot down the storm-lashed, wind-swept channel the victorious cannery fleet doggedly fought its way from the Diablo coast and headed to sea.
"We've got to lay in at San Anselmo," Dickie Lang shouted to Gregory as she guided the Richard skilfully through the buffeting waves. "Some of the boats are pretty badly stove up. They're riding too low to try to make the mainland. We'd have to buck the storm all the way over. Best run before it as long as we can. Then we can gain the lea of the other island and head in at Cavalan and leave some of the boats there. May have to run a few of them on the beach. We ought to make the little harbor on the south shore of San Anselmo in a couple of hours."
Gregory agreed with some reluctance. When it came to seamanship he was perfectly willing to leave the management of his craft to Dickie Lang. The girl was familiar with the coast of the two islands and had fully demonstrated her ability to handle the Richard in a storm. Still the idea of running from Diablo rankled in his heart. It looked like quitting.
The girl's next words, however, made him feel a little better.
"There would be no use lying in at Northwest Harbor at Diablo," she was saying. "The anchorage is too small and Mascola's boats will overcrowd it. If you tried to beach anything there, you'd wreck it. At Cavalan we can check things up, transfer the fish if we have to and get them right out. We've beaten Mascola, hands down, so why should we care?"
It was well toward morning before the last of the cannery fleet staggered into the little harbor of Cavalan. Then came the first opportunity to reckon the cost of Mascola's defeat at Diablo.