as a sturgeon's not a catfish!"

It was a tantalizing problem that confronted us. As long as we
were vigilant, they could not escape; and as long as they were
careful, we would be unable to catch them. Charley cudgelled his
brains continually, but for once his imagination failed him. It
was a problem apparently without other solution than that of
patience. It was a waiting game, and whichever waited the longer
was bound to win. To add to our irritation, friends of the
Italians established a code of signals with them from the shore, so
that we never dared relax the siege for a moment. And besides
this, there were always one or two suspicious-looking fishermen
hanging around the Solano Wharf and keeping watch on our actions.
We could do nothing but "grin and bear it," as Charley said, while
it took up all our time and prevented us from doing other work.

The days went by, and there was no change in the situation. Not
that no attempts were made to change it. One night friends from
the shore came out in a skiff and attempted to confuse us while the
two Italians escaped. That they did not succeed was due to the
lack of a little oil on the ship's davits. For we were drawn back
from the pursuit of the strange boat by the creaking of the davits,
and arrived at the Lancashire Queen just as the Italians were
lowering their skiff. Another night, fully half a dozen skiffs
rowed around us in the darkness, but we held on like a leech to the
side of the ship and frustrated their plan till they grew angry and
showered us with abuse. Charley laughed to himself in the bottom
of the boat.

"It's a good sign, lad," he said to me. "When men begin to abuse,