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.