Little Washington's Relatives Part 8

complained John.

"Oh, but there will be! Just wait till we get in that row in Boston harbor! Hurry across and be ready for us," cried George, who half-suspected John of jealousy, and, at the same time, felt he was guilty of selfishness himself.

The tea was stacked in its boxes on the ship _Dartmouth_, and the three, Captain Jim and the English baronets, as pa.s.sengers, set sail for Boston harbor.

On the American side, Martha had found an old apple tree near the bridge, the fruit of which had lain so long on the damp ground that the apples were rotted within and soft as pulp, the skins being the only sound part of the fruit.

"Wouldn't they make fine cannon-b.a.l.l.s?" exulted Martha.

"Oo-oh, let's!" cried Anne, and John, coming up just then, felt a secret joy in planning how he would fire those cannon-b.a.l.l.s at the men on the ship.

So, without a hint of the ammunition being quickly transferred from the apple tree to the site of Boston, the three brave and eager colonists awaited the coming of the tea cargo.

CHAPTER VI

THE BATTLE OF BOSTON

"We're stuck!" declared Jack, as they tried to shove off from the bank now said to be England.

"And every time I push the water comes up over my shoes," said George, looking dolefully at his soaked shoes and stockings.

"Let's pull them off and fling them over on the bank," suggested Jack.

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.

George could afford to laugh at the sight, for he still held his footing on the wet and slippery raft; but he laughed too soon. John took another aim and fired a second shot. It hit the boards of the raft just back of George, who was not aware of it, as it simply squashed all over without making a noise.

He moved back a trifle to gain a surer footing, and that action was his own undoing. His foot slipped on the slippery mush, and down he came upon the planks. Again the tipsy raft dove, and again George slid off into the stream.

The middle of the stream was swollen by the rains to a depth of four feet, and Jim only being three feet high, could not be seen, but he could paddle a bit with legs and arms in poor imitation of swimming, so George and Jack found him wildly kicking and striking the water in a vain endeavor to float.

John doubled over in glee at his marksmanship, and the two girls, running to see what the new commotion was about, saw the three boys in the creek, trying to board the raft. With every pull and extra weight on the warship, it dipped gracefully and slipped the children's eager, clutching hands from its edges.

"You'll have to wade back to England and sail again," yelled John comfortingly.

"You just wait till we get over there!" threatened Jack, who suspected the power back of that apple.

"We'll wait all right! Long time comin', too!" roared John, slapping his knees.

While Jack pulled Jim to shallow water, George managed to haul the now water-logged raft back to the English sh.o.r.e. The pasteboard cartons and drum were thoroughly soaked by this time and showed signs of collapse, but the soap-box withstood the elements in a fine manner.

During the third trial to cross the tempestuous seas, the cartons holding oatmeal and hominy spread out and the cereals floated down on the face of the creek. The pasteboard sides, now flattened out and soaked, were of no use, so they were kicked off; but in the sudden jerking Jack and George clutched each other madly, or they would have slid into the water for the third time.

"I guess Boston will never get a speck of that cargo!" laughed John, both hands behind his back holding large-sized decayed cannon-b.a.l.l.s from the apple tree.

"What'll you bet?" challenged Jack.

"Bet you three shots to your every one that you won't land it!" taunted John.

"Take you up! If we land anything we take three shots at you. If you keep us from landing, you have three at us," cried George, the fire of battle shining in his eyes.

"Here, John, you wade out and upset them," whispered Anne mischievously.

"They won't count that as fair!" exclaimed Martha.

"I've got a better idea. I'll get up on that tree-trunk leaning out over the creek and you girls can hand me some heavy clumps of dirt, wood or rocks. I'll drop it over on the raft so it will tip and roll off the rest of the cargo," whispered John.

The three sailors were fully occupied in balancing and bringing the raft across the stream where it should go, so they failed to see John scale the overhanging willow tree and lean down to get the rocks and fragments of tree-trunks the girls pa.s.sed up to him. Not until a stone fell upon the side of the raft where the remaining boxes stood did they dream of danger from a fort.

"Ah, say, that isn't fair!" complained Jack, not daring to look up or around.

"All's fair in play!" laughed Anne from the bank.

A second rock landed on the edge of the raft, and then a ma.s.s of dirt and dead leaves. After this, the girls a.s.sisted in the fusillade, and the boys were not only kept busy avoiding the ammunition of the Americans; but they found the raft tilting so dangerously that another added bit of weight would roll the single remaining soap-box from the ship.

"Jack, it's dare or die!" said George, nodding to the debris thrown on the raft and the slant of the ship under water.