“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.”