George, forgetting he was not on dry ground, instantly followed Jack’s idea and sat down on the raft to remove his shoes. At the same time, Jim tried to climb aboard from the creek where he had been pushing, and the result was that the water swept over the top surface of the raft and submerged everything under six inches of water. “Ah, say! See what you did to me!” cried George, now soaking wet to the waistline. “Quick! Never mind the wet—there go our tea chests!” yelled Jack, trying to save the drum as it floated away from the raft. Jim and George, over-anxious to save their cargo, suddenly leaned out to catch the bobbing cartons and boxes, when the unbalanced raft tilted treacherously over with the weight of the three boys and shot them all into the stream. The screams and shouts of dismay brought the three Americans running to the Boston port, and as they stood laughing unfeelingly at the scene in the water, the British declared they’d get even when they landed in Boston. “Better get here first!” called Anne. “We’ll salute you with guns all right!” added John grimly. “So’ll we! We’ll go back to London and find some guns and shot, too,” promised George, looking at the Americans and then at Jack, who was wallowing through the mud to gain the bank again. “Jim, haul up your ship for us to load with ammunition,” ordered George, as soon as Jim’s head appeared from under the raft, where he had rolled when the warship keeled over. But the clever Yanks kept all news of their ammunition from the eyes and ears of the British. Then, having found some long sticks that would answer for guns, the three mariners set sail again on their dangerous journey across the sea—a distance of thirty feet from bank to bank. This time the raft was kept balanced, while the three stood hugging each other in the center of the boards. Their shoes and coats had been left on the woodpile, so they were not hampered with overmuch clothing. Now, John had bided his time very patiently, and, feeling that he had been supplanted in the fun and affections of George by his cousin Jack, he determined not to wait till the ship came into port, when the boys could jump from the vessel, to land and find the pyramid of bad apples ready to fire. So he waited until the loosely-constructed raft reached midstream, where the current of the sluggish water turned it partially around so that the boys faced back at England, and dared not turn about for fear of another submersion. Taking careful aim, John threw a large and wonderfully squashy apple at Jack. It landed on top of his head, and the juicy, brown contents of the apple-skin ran down over his face, ears and neck. “Ouch! What’s that?” screamed Jack, the acid of the juice blinding his eyes. He threw out his hands for help as he cried, and thus catching Jim, both slid off the raft a second time, as the craft went under on that side.