The girl was silent for a moment. Then she answered:
"Can't say. Somewhere about fifty, maybe more. It's hard to check him up. His boats cruise a long way out and some of them don't put in to Legonia at all."
"What kind of fish are you catching now?"
"Halibut mostly, some barracuda. Haven't tried for sardines or albacore since your cannery shut down."
The Petrel rolled lazily in the trough of the swell as she sped down the coast. Suddenly the darkness ahead was blurred by an indistinct shape and the man at the wheel put the vessel over sharply. As he did so he narrowly escaped a collision with an unlighted boat which loomed directly across their bow.
"Trawler fishing within the three-mile limit without lights," the girl explained to her passenger.
Gregory remembered Dickie Lang's words concerning alien interference. He knew that running without lights was illegal. Why was the law not enforced?
In answer to his question, the girl burst out: "You just wait. I couldn't take the time now to tell you of all the laws Mascola breaks and if I did you wouldn't believe me."
"How can he get by with it?" Gregory asked.