“I’ll get out and push.”
“You’re not strong enough. You took a nasty blow on the head.”
Had not Jack looked so thoroughly miserable, Penny might have been tempted to adopt an “I told you so” attitude. There had been no excuse for running aground. Sally Barker had warned them about the shoal, and Jack deliberately had disregarded her advice.
“I guess it was my fault,” Jack mumbled, the words coming with difficulty. “The water was deep enough here yesterday. I was so sure—”
His eyes, like those of an abused puppy, appealed to her for sympathy. Suddenly, Penny’s resentment vanished and she felt sorry for Jack.
“Never mind,” she said kindly. “We’ll get off somehow. If necessary, I can swim to Shadow Island for help.”
“It won’t be necessary.” Jack pulled off shoes and socks, and rolled up his slacks above his knees. “I got us into this, and I’ll get us out. Just sit tight.”
Despite Penny’s protests, he swung over the side, into the shallow water. Applying his shoulder to the Spindrift’s bow, he pushed with all his strength. Penny dug into the mud with the paddle.
The boat groaned and clung fast to the shoal. Then inch by inch it began to move backwards.
“We’re off!” Penny cried jubilantly.