Jack and George reached him first, and instantly caught his wildly waving arms to drag him up on shore. They thought that if it was his time to “climb the golden stairs” he was always singing about, he ought to begin on dry land.
But Jim’s yells grew more appalling as he was half-carried and half-dragged out of the water. Just as John and his two confederates ran up, the cause of all this frenzy was found.
A huge mud-turtle had snapped onto one of Jim’s brown, upcurling toes, and as resistance was brought to bear against this grip, the turtle held on the tighter.
George knew what to do, so he quickly broke its shell with a sharp stone, and Jim almost fainted with relief at his freedom. The girls tried to pet him and offer sympathies, but Jack and George took advantage of the situation.
“Ha! We brought meat to shore! We landed all right!” yelled Jack, dancing like a wild Indian.
“Three-to-one shot,” added George, rushing away to find the ammunition John had plied so thickly.
But most of the apples had been fired, and Jim whispered: “Ah wan’ t’ go hum!”
“Ah, don’t go home now! Your toe will soon feel better, and besides, mammy will ask you where the boxes went from the store-room,” advised Martha.
Jim looked up at her wistfully and said: “Ah’ll tell her dem British sunk ’em all!”
“That would be mixin’ American history, ’cause it was us Yanks that sunk the cargo,” corrected Anne.
“All but the fish!” chuckled Jack, pointing at the turtle.
“If Jim can’t go home, and you girls won’t let us shoot as you agreed, what shall we do, anyway?” sulked George, who felt it was an unlucky day, because no more apples could be found.
“Why not play the Battle of Lexington? That’s fun!” suggested Martha.
“We can use the raft to sail up Lake Champlain, where it can be the first warship of the American navy,” added Anne.
“All right—come on!” declared John, who was glad to postpone his being shot at by two good aims like George and Jack.
“Here, or on the other side?” asked George.
“Well, here’s a good tree for the earthworks on the hill near Boston,” ventured John.
“We won’t need it for Lexington or Concord, but we really ought to have something that would pop like shot, or it won’t seem real,” replied Jack consideringly.