The jokes and gibes of the awakened crew sounded anything but sweet
in our ears, and even the two Italians climbed up on the rail and
laughed down at us long and maliciously.

"That's all right," Charley said in a low voice, which I only could
hear. "I'm mighty glad it's not us that's laughing first. We'll
save our laugh to the end, eh, lad?"

He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he finished, but it seemed to
me that there was more determination than hope in his voice.

It would have been possible for us to secure the aid of United
States marshals and board the English ship, backed by Government
authority. But the instructions of the Fish Commission were to the
effect that the patrolmen should avoid complications, and this one,
did we call on the higher powers, might well end in a pretty
international tangle.

The second week of the siege drew to its close, and there was no
sign of change in the situation. On the morning of the fourteenth
day the change came, and it came in a guise as unexpected and
startling to us as it was to the men we were striving to capture.

Charley and I, after our customary night vigil by the side of the
Lancashire Queen, rowed into the Solana Wharf.

"Hello!" cried Charley, in surprise. "In the name of reason and
common sense, what is that? Of all unmannerly craft did you ever
see the like?"