“You ain’t goin’ to git ’er off. She’s stuck for good,” prophesied Sim.
It is not easy to discourage great spirits. “Ef I can’t git ’er off now, I kin wait for high water. The old tub hain’t hurt none,” Mr. Quince made answer.
Basing the duration of their experience as castaways upon these remarks, the mothers gave away to tears. Babies awakened and wept also. A chorus of woe swept shoreward.
“Who knows how to swim?” Dr. Jackson asked in a sharp voice.
The ladies construed this remark as implying an early necessity for this accomplishment. The resulting increase in grief was with difficulty subdued.
From the information educed, it was clear that Sim was among the most experienced swimmer among those present. Being untrammeled by the mandates of fearful females, he had since his early youth spent much of the summer season in the water.
“Sim, you swim ashore and get help,” ordered the doctor.
A difficulty arose, “I ain’t a goin’ to swim with my clothes on,” objected Sim. “Maybe I only have to wade, but I might get into a hole and have to swim. Clothes drag a feller down.”
“Very sensible,” agreed the physician. “Take them off.”
“I ain’t no heathen. I ain’t agoin’ to take my clothes off before all of these womenfolks.”