China and the West

London, Jack. Tales of the fish patrol. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1905).
http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext97/totfp10.txt
White and yellow.
Wildest among the fisher-folk may be accounted the Chinese shrimp-catchers. It is the habit of the shrimp to crawl along the bottom in vast armies till it reaches fresh water, when it turns about and crawls back again to the salt. And where the tide ebbs and flows, the Chinese sink great bag-nets to the bottom, with gaping mouths, into which the shrimp crawls and from which it is transferred to the boiling-pot…
After a deal of work among the Greek fishermen of the Upper Bay and rivers, where knives flashed at the beginning of trouble and men permitted themselves to be made prisoners only after a revolver was thrust in their faces, we hailed with delight an expedition to the Lower Bay against the Chinese shrimp-catchers…
While waiting for slack water, in which to lift their heavy nets from the bed of the bay, the Chinese had all gone to sleep below…
The decks were beginning to swarm with half-awakened and half-naked Chinese…
A big Chinaman, remarkably evil-looking, with his head swathed in a yellow silk handkerchief and face badly pock-marked, planted a pike-pole on the Reindeer's bow and began to shove the entangled boats apart…
I was unarmed, but the Chinese have learned to be fastidiously careful of American hip pockets, and it was upon this that I depended to keep him and his savage crew at a distance…
And here, as with my junk, four Chinese were transferred to the sloop and one left behind to take care of things…
Some of the Chinese stood in the forward part of the cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as I leaned over the cockpit rail to flatten down the jib-sheet a bit, I felt some one brush against my hip pocket…
The Chinese could see the funk he was in as well as I could, and their insolence became insufferable…
"The safest thing to do," he chattered cravenly, "is to put them ashore. I, for one, don't want to be drowned for the sake of a handful of dirty Chinamen."…
He made no reply, but I could see he was trembling pitifully. Between the threatening Chinese and the rising water he was beside himself with fright; and, more than the Chinese and the water, I feared him and what his fright might impel him to do…
He grinned in a sickly fashion. "Yep, I sabbe velly much. I honest Chinaman." "All right," I answered. "You sabbe talkee talkee, then you bail water plenty plenty. After that we talkee talkee." He shook his head, at the same time pointing over his shoulder to his comrades. "No can do. Velly bad Chinamen, heap velly bad. I t'ink-um--"…
Our voices were raised, and the sound of the altercation brought the Chinese out of the cabin…
And out of the tail of my eye I could see the Chinese crowding together by the cabin doors and leering triumphantly. It would never do…
It was the steady breeze I had been expecting so long. I called to the Chinese and pointed it out. They hailed it with exclamations…
While I pressed her under and debated whether I should give up or not, the Chinese cried for mercy…
But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell to bailing with buckets, pots, pans, and everything they could lay hands on…
The spirit of the Chinese was broken, and so docile did they become that ere we made San Rafael they were out with the tow-rope, Yellow Handkerchief at the head of the line…