The fishermen landed their prize and tried to haul him out of the water. The loggerhead objected to this, and he began to haul them bodily into the sea. The water was riled and he appeared monstrous in the foam. They could not tell what kind of creature he was, but it was for them to get him ashore, and six of them hauled on the line while two, wading in, began to pry at him with oars to turn him upon his back. In a little while they had him rolled over and helpless. Then they came close to examine their victim.
“I’d be willing to lose half a ton of fish fer a fine green turtle,” said the leader of the men. “He’s a corker, an’ that’s a fact.”
“Looks to me like he’s nothin’ but one o’ them loggerheads,” said an old fisherman; “if he is, he’s played it on us fine.”
They looked at the markings on his shell and pulled out his flippers. Then the leader mopped his streaming face with a handkerchief. The old fisherman looked up sheepishly and grinned.
“He aint wuth his weight in mud. Turn him lose an’ let him slide,” he said.
A sailor rapped him over the head and spoke feelingly. Then they cut the line adrift and went to gather in their torn net.
The loggerhead lay upon his back and waited. He was annoyed at the disturbance. It was provoking to be turned over by a lot of fishermen.
The mullet had seen him hauled out by the flipper, and he grew angry at the thought. He tried to twist round and get upon his belly, but could not.
All day he lay in the hot sunshine and snapped viciously at the sand-crabs who came to examine him. Then, as the tide raised and floated him, he managed to get again upon his paddles. He was disgusted. Far away down the lagoon a ripple on the water showed the returning mullet. He gazed at them for a moment, then hauled himself clear of the bottom. His ugly beak was stuck far out, and with steady strokes he pointed it for the open sea. He passed the returning fish, and they wondered at him. Then he went through the opening and disappeared into the great ocean to the eastward.