experience as a fish patrolman, I must say this is the easiest
capture I ever made. What'll we do with them, Charley?"

"Tow the junk into San Rafael, of course," came the answer.
Charley turned to me. "You stand by the junk, lad, and I'll pass
you a towing line. If the wind doesn't fail us, we'll make the
creek before the tide gets too low, sleep at San Rafael, and arrive
in Oakland to-morrow by midday."

So saying, Charley and Neil returned to the Reindeer and got under
way, the junk towing astern. I went aft and took charge of the
prize, steering by means of an antiquated tiller and a rudder with
large, diamond-shaped holes, through which the water rushed back
and forth.

By now the last of the fog had vanished, and Charley's estimate of
our position was confirmed by the sight of McNear's Landing a short
half-mile away. Following along the west shore, we rounded Point
Pedro in plain view of the Chinese shrimp villages, and a great to-
do was raised when they saw one of their junks towing behind the
familiar fish patrol sloop.

The wind, coming off the land, was rather puffy and uncertain, and
it would have been more to our advantage had it been stronger. San
Rafael Creek, up which we had to go to reach the town and turn over
our prisoners to the authorities, ran through wide-stretching
marshes, and was difficult to navigate on a falling tide, while at
low tide it was impossible to navigate at all. So, with the tide
already half-ebbed, it was necessary for us to make time. This the
heavy junk prevented, lumbering along behind and holding the