Hardly had Ransey finished his story ere a bright flash of lightning lit
up the ship from stem to stern--a flash that seemed to strike the top of
every rolling wave and hiss in the hollows between; a flash that left
the barque in Cimmerian though only momentary darkness, for hardly had
the thunder that followed--deep, loud, and awful--commenced, ere flash
succeeded flash, and the sea all around seemed an ocean of fire.
For a time little Nelda could not be prevailed upon to go below. She
was indeed a child of the wilds, and a thunderstorm was one of her chief
delights.
Ah! but this was going to be somewhat more than a thunderstorm.
"Hands, shorten sail! All hands on deck!" It was Tandy's voice
sounding through the speaking trumpet--ringing through it, I might say,
and yet it scarce could be heard above the incessant crashing of the
thunder.
The men came tumbling up, looking scared and frightened in the blue
glare of the lightning.
"Away aloft! Bear a hand, my hearties! Get her snug, and we'll splice
the main-brace. Hurrah, lads! Nimbly does it!"
Swaying high up on the top-gallant yards they looked no bigger than
rooks, and with every uncertain lurch and roll the yard-ends seemed
almost to touch the water.
It was at this moment that the stewardess came staggering aft.
"Don't go, 'Ansey--don't go," cried Nelda.
"Duty's duty, dear, and it's `all hands' now."
He saw her safely down the companion-way, and next minute he was
swarming up the ratlines to his station. But he had to pause every few
seconds and hang on to the rigging, with his back right over the water--
hang on for dear life.
The sails were reefed, and some were got in, and not till the men had
got down from aloft did the rain come on. For higher and higher had the
clouds on the northern horizon banked up, till they covered all the sky.
So awful was the rain, and so blinding, that it was impossible to see
ten yards ahead, or even to guess from which direction the storm would
actually come.
The wind was already whirling in little eddies from end to end of the
deck, but hardly yet did it affect the motion of the ship, or give her
way in any one direction.
The men were ordered below in batches, to get into their oilskins, for
right well Tandy knew that a fearful night had to be faced.
The men received their grog now, and well did they deserve it.
Another hand was put to the wheel (two men in all), and near them stood
the bold mate Tandy, ready to give orders by signal or even by touch,
should they fail to hear his voice. All around the deck the men were
clinging to bulwark or stay.
Waiting for the inevitable!
Ah! now it came. The rain had ceased for a time. So heavy had it been
that the waves themselves were levelled, and Tandy could now see a long
line of white coming steadily up astern.
He thanked the God who rules on sea as well as on dry land that the
squall was coming from that direction. Had it taken the good ship
suddenly aback she might have gone down stern-foremost, even with the
now limited spread of canvas that was on her.
As it was, the first mountain wave that hit the good barque sent her
flying through the sea as if she had been but an empty match-box. That
wave burst on board, however--pooped her, in fact--and went roaring
forward, a sea of solid foaming water.
The good vessel shivered from stem to stern like a creature in the
throes of death. For a few minutes only. Next minute she had shaken
herself free, and was dashing through the water at a pace that only a
yacht could have beaten.
The thunder now went rolling down to leeward, and the rain ceased, but
the gale increased in force, and in a short time she had to be eased
again, and now she was scudding along almost under bare poles. It would
be hours before mate Tandy could get below; but Ransey's watch was now
off deck, so he went down to ask Janeira, the stewardess, if Nelda was
in bed.
She was in bed most certainly, but through the half-open doorway she
could hear Ransey's voice, and shouted to him.
"I fink, sah," Janeira said, "she am just one leetle bit afraid."
There was no doubt about that, and the questions with which she plied
her brother, when he took a seat by her bunk to comfort her, were
peculiar, to say the least.
"Daddy won't be down for a long, long time?"--that was one.
"The poor men, though, how many is drownded?"--another.
"The ship did go to the bottom though, didn't it, 'cause I heard the
water all rush down?"--a third.
"You are quite, quite sure father isn't drownded? And you are sure no
awful beasts have come up with long arms? Well, tell us some stories."
_Nolens volens_, Ransey had to. But Babs got drowsy at last, the white
eyelids drooped and drooped till they finally closed; then Ransey went
quietly away and turned into his hammock.
Young though he was, the heaviest sea-way could not frighten him, nor
the stormiest wind that could blow. The sound of the wind as it went
roaring through the rigging could only make him drowsy, and the ship
herself would rock him to sleep. The barque was snug, too, and it was
happiness itself to hear his father's footsteps, as he walked the
quarterdeck, pausing now and then to give an order to the men at the
wheel.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Behaved like an angel all through, Halcott!" That was what Tandy told
the skipper next morning at breakfast.
"I knew she would, Tandy. I'm proud of our _Sea Flower_, and, my
friend, I'm just as proud of you. I'd have stopped on deck to lend a
hand, but that wouldn't have done any good.
"Jane," he cried. Jane was the contraction for "Janeira."
"Iss, sah; I'se not fah off."
"Is there no toast this morning?"
"No, sah; Lord Fitzmantle he done go hab one incident dis mawnin'. He
blingin' de toast along, w'en all same one big wave struckee he and down
he tumble, smash de plate, and lose all de toast foh true."
"Oh, the naughty boy!" said Nelda, who was hurrying through her
breakfast to go on deck to "see the sea," as she expressed it.
"No, leetle Meess Tandy, Lord Fitzmantle he good boy neahly all de time.
It was poorly an incident, meesie, for de big sea cut his legs clean
off, and down he come."
"Well, I'm sorry for Fitz," said Nelda with a sigh; "I suppose it was
only his sea-legs though. And I'm going to have mine to-day. I asked
the carpenter, and he said he would make me some soon, and it wouldn't
be a bit sore putting them on."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
With varying fortunes the good ship _Sea Flower_ sailed south and away,
till at last the Cape of Good Hope was reached and rounded.
Here they experienced very heavy weather indeed, with terrible storms of
thunder and lightning, and bigger seas than Tandy himself had ever seen
before.
But by this time little Nelda was quite a sailor, and a greater
favourite fore and aft than ever.
Sea-legs had, figuratively speaking, been served out to all the green
hands. Nelda had a capital pair, and could use them well. Fitz had to
make his old ones do another time; but Bob had received two pairs from
Neptune, when he came aboard that starry still night when crossing the
line. As for the Hal, it must be confessed that there wasn't a pair in
Neptune's boat long enough to fit him. However, in ordinary weather he
managed to run along the deck pretty easily, his jibboom, as the sailors
called his neck, held straight out in front of him, and helping himself
along with his wings.
Sometimes on the quarterdeck it would suddenly occur to the 'Ral that a
step or two of a Highland schottische would help to make time pass more
quickly and pleasantly. The 'Ral wasn't a bird to spoil a good
intention, so, with just one or two preliminary "scray--scrays" he would
start.
Bother the deck though, and bother the heaving sea, for do what he would
the bird could no longer dance with ease and grace; so he would soon
give it up, and go and lean his chin wearily over the lee bulwark, and
thus, with his drooping wings, he did cut rather a ridiculous figure as
seen from behind. He looked for all the world like some scraggy-legged
little old man, who had got up in the morning and put nothing on except
a ragged swallow-tailed coat.
The men liked the 'Ral though. He made them laugh, and was better than
an extra glass of rum to them. So, as the bird seemed always rather
wretched in dirty weather, the carpenter was solicited to make him some
sort of shelter.
The carpenter consulted the sailmaker. The carpenter and sailmaker put
their heads together. Something was sure to come of that.
"He's sich an awkward shape, ye see," said old Canvas.
"That's true," said Chips; "and he won't truss hisself, as ye might call
it."
"No; if he'd on'y jest double up his legs, Chips, and close reef that
jibboom o' his, we might manage some'ow."
"A kind o' sentry-box would just be _the_ thing, old Can."
"Humph! yes. I wonder why the skipper didn't bring a grandfather's
clock with 'im; that would suit the 'Ral all to pieces."
But a sort of sentry-box, with a tarpaulin in front of it, was finally
rigged up for the 'Ral, and placed just abaft the main-mast, to which it
was lashed.
The 'Ral didn't take to it quite kindly at first, but after studying it
fore and aft he finally thought it would fit him nicely.
It would be protection from the sun on hot days, and when it blew a bit
the men would draw down the tarpaulin, and he would be snug enough.
But in sunny weather it must be confessed that, solemnly standing there
in his sentry-box, the Admiral did look a droll sight.
The 'Ral was a very early riser. He always turned out in time to go
splashing about while the hands were washing decks, and although they
often turned the hose on him he didn't mind it a bit.
One very hot day, the poor 'Ral was observed standing pensively up
against the capstan. His head was out of sight, thrust into one of the
holes.
This was unusual, but the bird did so many droll things that, for an
hour or more, nobody took much notice; but Ransey came round at last,
carrying Babs, who was riding on his shoulders.
"Hillo!" cried Babs, "here's the 'Ral with his head buried in a hole."
"Which he stowed hisself away there, missie, more'n an hour ago," said a
seaman. "Afraid o' gettin' sunstroke, that's my opinion."
"Poor Hallie," cried Babs, sympathisingly, "does your headie ache?"
The Admiral drew out his head, and looked at the child very mournfully
indeed.
"He's got some silent sorrow hevidently, I should say," remarked another
of the crew.
There was quite a little circle now around the capstan.
"Cheer up," cried Ransey Tansey. "Come along and have a dance,
'Rallie."
"I don't feel like dancing to-day," the crane replied, or appeared to
reply. "Fact is, I don't feel like moving at all."
No wonder, poor bird; the truth is, he was glued to the deck with melted
pitch.
What a job it was getting him clear too--or "easing him off," as Chips
called it.
But with the help of putty knives the 'Ral got free at last, though it
took a deal of orange-peel to clean his poor feet. Then they were found
to be so red and swollen that a hammock was slung for him forthwith
atween decks, and the Admiral was laid at full length in it--his head on
a pillow at one end, his feet away down at the other, his body covered
with the carpenter's lightest jacket.
Very funny he did appear stretched like that, but he himself
appreciated, not the joke, but the comfort. He lay there for days, only
getting up a little in the cool of the evening, if there was any cool in
it.
Ransey fed him, and attended to his feet twice a day, so he was soon on
deck again, as right as a trivet.
But the Admiral had learned a lesson, and ever after this, on hot days,
to have seen the bird coming along the deck, you would have sworn he was
playing at hop-Scotch, so careful was he to hop over the seams where the
pitch was soft, his long neck bent down, and one eye curiously examining
the planks.
Yes, the 'Ral was a caution, as old Canvas said.
But one of the bird's drollest adventures occurred one day when the ship
was lying becalmed in the Indian Ocean, or rather in the Mozambique
Channel.
The _Sea Flower_ was within a measurable distance of land; for though
none was in sight, birds of the gull species flew around the ship, tack
and half-tack, or floated lazily on the smooth surface of the sea.
The 'Ral slowly left his sentry-box, stretched his wings a bit, uttered
a mild scray--scray--ay or two, then did a hop-Scotch till he got
abreast of the man at the wheel. This particular sailor was somewhat of
a dandy, and had a morsel of red silk handkerchief peeping prettily out
from his jacket pocket.
The 'Ral eyed it curiously for a moment, then cleverly plucked it out
and jumped away with it. He dropped it on a portion of the quarterdeck
where the pitch was oozing, kicked it about with his feet to spread it
out, as a man does with a handful of straw, and stood upon it.
"Well, I do call that cheek! My best silk handkerchief, too," cried the
man at the wheel.
The crane only looked at him wonderingly with one eye.
"You've no idea," he told this man, "how soft and nice it feels. I--I--
yes, I verily believe I shall dance. Craik--craik--cray--ay--y!"
And dance he did, Nelda and half the crew at least clapping their hands
and cheering with delight.
The 'Ral was just in the very midst of his merriment, when the man,
after giving the wheel an angry turn or two to port, made a dart to
recover his favourite bandana. With such a rush did he come that the
'Ral took fright, and flew to the top of the bulwark. There was some
oiled canvas here, and this was so hot that the bird had to keep lifting
one foot and putting down the other all the time, just like a hen on a
hot griddle.
"How delightfully sweet it must be up there," he said to himself, gazing
at the gulls that were screaming with joy as they swept round and round
in the blue sky. "I think I'll have a fly myself. Scray--ay!"
And greatly to every one's astonishment away he flew high into the air.
Alarmed at first, the gulls soon regained courage, and made a daring
attack on the 'Ral. But he speedily vanquished the foe, and one or two
fell bleeding into the water.
A gull was perched on the back fin of a shark. The 'Ral flew down.
"It's nice and snug _you_ look," said the 'Ral. "Get off at once, the
king's come. Get off, I say, or I'll dig both your impudent eyes out."
And next moment the Admiral was perched there, as coolly as if he had
been used to riding on sharks ever since his babyhood.
But Nelda was in tears. She would never see the 'Ral again, and the
awful beast would eat him, sea-legs and all. So a boat was called away
to save him.
None too soon either. For the 'Ral had commenced to investigate that
fin with his long beak. No respectable basking shark could be expected
to stand that, so down he dived, leaving the bird screaming and swaying
and scrambling on the top of the water. "Scray--scray--craik--craik--
cray!"
But for the timely aid of the boat, the Admiral would have met with a
terrible fate, for his screaming and struggling brought around him three
sharks at least, all eager to find out what a long-legged bird like this
tasted like.
Every fine day the crane now indulged himself in the pleasure of flight,
but he never evinced the slightest inclination to perch again on the
back of a basking shark. It wasn't good enough, he would have told you,
had you asked him. "As regards the backs of basking sharks," he might
have said, "I'm going to be a total abstainer."
Up the east coast of Africa went the bonnie barque _Sea Flower_.
Tandy knew almost every yard of the ground he was now covering, and
could pilot the vessel into creeks and over sand-banks or bars with very
little danger indeed.
But still the coast here is so treacherous, and the sands and bottom
change so frequently, that, night and day, men had to be in the chains
heaving the lead.
The natives, also, across the line in Somaliland, are as treacherous as
the coral rocks that guard their clay-built towns, and more treacherous
than either are the semi-white, slave-dealing Arabs.
Book 2--CHAPTER TEN.