make sure they're losing patience; and shortly after they lose
patience, they lose their heads. Mark my words, if we only hold
out, they'll get careless some fine day, and then we'll get them."

But they did not grow careless, and Charley confessed that this was
one of the times when all signs failed. Their patience seemed
equal to ours, and the second week of the siege dragged
monotonously along. Then Charley's lagging imagination quickened
sufficiently to suggest a ruse. Peter Boyelen, a new patrolman and
one unknown to the fisher-folk, happened to arrive in Benicia and
we took him into our plan. We were as secret as possible about it,
but in some unfathomable way the friends ashore got word to the
beleaguered Italians to keep their eyes open.

On the night we were to put our ruse into effect, Charley and I
took up our usual station in our rowing skiff alongside the
Lancashire Queen. After it was thoroughly dark, Peter Boyelen came
out in a crazy duck boat, the kind you can pick up and carry away
under one arm. When we heard him coming along, paddling noisily,
we slipped away a short distance into the darkness, and rested on
our oars. Opposite the gangway, having jovially hailed the anchor-
watch of the Lancashire Queen and asked the direction of the
Scottish Chiefs, another wheat ship, he awkwardly capsized himself.
The man who was standing the anchor-watch ran down the gangway and
hauled him out of the water. This was what he wanted, to get
aboard the ship; and the next thing he expected was to be taken on
deck and then below to warm up and dry out. But the captain
inhospitably kept him perched on the lowest gang-way step,
shivering miserably and with his feet dangling in the water, till
we, out of very pity, rowed in from the darkness and took him off.