“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Tibbs, in truly nautical style.
And they started off. But the children found it rather hard to keep their balance, as the bird’s back was inclined to be slippery, and Kiddiwee slid backwards on to its tail.
“Ahoy, there!” shouted the Albatross, “keep that young shaver off my steering gear!” And the other two hastily pulled him back.
And now they were swaying and gliding in a most soothing way, and at a very good speed, over the deep blue waters. It was the strangest trip they had ever made, and quite one of the nicest. Sometimes they flew so low that they skimmed the water, and flecked it into a thousand glowing spray-bubbles, and the shadowy form of some large fish could be seen gliding along under the water, hoping for a chance nibble, if the Albatross should be foolish enough to settle. Then, again, they would glide upwards till they were on a level with the fleecy clouds, and the waves looked like ripples beneath them.
“If that isn’t old Skipper Blubberkins, the Whale. What’s he doing up in these warm parts?” cried the Albatross. “With your permission, my hearties, we’ll just pull alongside and see what the old pirate has to say for hisself.”
The Albatross certainly talked like a true old Salt, but whether he learnt it from the sailors, or the sailors learnt it from him, is a problem hard to decide—you never can tell.
Skipper Blubberkins—the Whale—was asleep when they arrived, and looked much more like an island than a living animal.
“He’s the hugestest person I’ve seen,” exclaimed Kiddiwee; “how ’normous his great-great-grandpapa must be!” He always had an idea that the word “great” before “grandpapa” referred to the size of that individual, and not to his place upon the family tree.
Skipper Blubberkins.