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.

A BRUSH WITH THE SOMALIS--THE DERELICT.

All along the Somali coast was Tandy's "chief market ground," as he called it. Here he knew he could drive precisely the kind of bargains he wished to make; and as for the Somalis, with their shields, spears, ugly broad knives, and grinning sinister faces, this bold seaman did not care anything. Nor for the Arabs either. He soon gave both to understand that he was a man of the wide, wide world, and was not afraid of any one.

He had come to trade and barter, he told the Arabs, and not to study their slave-hunting habits; so if they would deal, they had only to trot out their wares--_he_ was ready. And if they didn't want to deal, there was no harm done. He even took Ransey with him sometimes, and once he took Nelda as well.

The savages just here were a bad, bloodthirsty lot, and he knew it, but he had with him five trusty men. Not armed--that is, not visibly so.

But on this particular day there was blood in those natives' eyes.

Tall, lithe, and black-brown were they, their skins oiled and shining in the sun. But smiling. Oh, yes, these fiends will smile while they cut a white man's throat.

Every eye was fixed hungrily on the beautiful child. What a present she would be for a great chief who dwelt far away in the interior and high among the mountains!

The bartering went on as usual, but Tandy kept his weather eye lifting.

Leopards' skins, lions' skins and heads, ostrich feathers, gum-copal, ivory tusks, and gold-dust. The boat was already well filled, Nelda was on board, so was Tandy himself, and his crew, all save one man, who was just shoving her off when the rush was made. The prow of the boat was instantly seized, and the man thrown down.

Pop--pop--pop--pop--rang Tandy's revolver, and the yelling crowd grew thinner, and finally fled.

A spear or two was thrown, but these went wide of the mark.

Human blood looks ghastly on white coral sands, but was Tandy to blame?

Nelda was safe, and in his arms.

"O daddy," she cried, kissing his weather-beaten face, "are we safe?"

"Yes, darling; but I mustn't land here again."

Salook was the village king here, a big, burly brute of an Arab, with a white, gilded turban and a yellow, greasy face beneath it. Tandy had known some of his tricks and manners in days gone by.

At sunset that very same evening Salook was surrounded by his warriors.

"Everything yonder," he said in Swahili, as he pointed to the _Sea Flower_, "is yours. The little maiden shall be my slave. Get ready your boats, and sharpen your spears. Even were the ship a British man-of-war I'd board her."

At sunset that evening Tandy was surrounded by _his_ men, and pistols and cutla.s.ses were served out to all.

"We'll have trouble to-night, men," he said, "as soon as the moon rises.

If there was a breath of wind off-sh.o.r.e I'd slip. We can't slip--but we'll fight."

A cheer rose from the seamen, which Tandy quickly suppressed.

"Hush! Let us make them believe we suspect no treachery. But get up steam in the donkey engine, and connect the pipes."

This is a plan of defence that acts splendidly and effectively against all kinds and conditions of savages.

Boiling water on bare skins causes squirming, so Tandy felt safe.

The ship carried but one big gun, and this was now loaded with grape.