“That’s A1, sir,” said the Lord High Islander, munching. “What a head you have for the right thing.”
“All practice,” said Mr. Noah modestly.
“Thank you,” said Lucy, taking a biscuit; “I wish. …”
The sentence was never finished. With a sickening suddenness the floor of the saloon heaved up under their feet, a roaring surging battering sound broke round them; the saloon tipped over on one side and the whole party was thrown on the pink silk cushions of the long settee. A shudder seemed to run through the ark from end to end, and “What is it? Oh! what is it?” cried Lucy as the ark heeled over the other way and the unfortunate occupants were thrown on to the opposite set of cushions. (It really was, now, rather like what you imagine the inside of your Noah’s ark must be when you put in Mr. Noah and his family and a few hastily chosen animals and shake them all up together.)
“It’s the sea,” cried the Lord High Islander; “it’s the great Fear come upon us! And I’m not afraid!” He drew himself up as well as he could in his cramped position, with Mr. Noah’s elbow pinning his shoulder down and Mr. Perrin’s boot on his ear.
With a shake and a shiver the ark righted itself, and the floor of the saloon got flat again.
“It’s all right,” said Mr. Perrin, resuming control of his boot; “good workmanship, it do tell. She ain’t shipped a drop, Mr. Noah, sir.”
“It’s all right,” said Mr. Noah, taking his elbow to himself and standing up rather shakily on his yellow mat.
“We’re afloat, we’re afloat
On the dark rolling tide;
The ark’s watertight
And the crew are inside.“Up, up with the flag
Let it wave o’er the sea;
We’re afloat, we’re afloat—
And what else should we be?”
“I don’t know,” said Lucy; “but there isn’t any flag, is there?”
“The principle’s the same,” said Mr. Noah; “but I’m afraid we didn’t think of a flag.”
“I did,” said Mr. Perrin; “it’s only a Jubilee hankey”—he drew it slowly from his breast-pocket, a cotton Union Jack it was—“but it shall wave all right. But not till daylight, I think, sir. Discretion’s the better part of—don’t you think, Mr. Noah, sir? Wouldn’t do to open the ark out of hours, so to speak!”
“Just so,” said Mr. Noah. “One, two, three! Bed!”
The ark swayed easily on a sea not too rough. The saloon passengers staggered to their cabins. And silence reigned in the ark.
I am sorry to say that the Pretenderette dropped the wicker cage containing the parrot into the sea—an unpardonable piece of cruelty and revenge; unpardonable, that is, unless you consider that she did not really know any better. The Hippogriff’s white wings swept on; Philip, now laid across the knees of the Pretenderette (a most undignified attitude for any boy, and I hope none of you may be placed in such a position), screamed as the cage struck the water, and, “Oh, Polly!” he cried.
“All right,” the parrot answered; “keep your pecker up!”
“What did it say?” the Pretenderette asked.
“Something about peck,” said Philip upside down.
“Ah!” said the Pretenderette with satisfaction, “he won’t do any more pecking for some time to come.” And the wide Hippogriff wings swept on over the wide sea.
Polly’s cage fell and floated. And it floated alone till the dawn, when, with wheelings and waftings and cries, the gulls came from far and near to see what this new strange thing might be that bobbed up and down in their waters in the light of the newborn day.
“Hullo!” said Polly in bird-talk, clinging upside down to the top bars of the cage.
“Hullo, yourself,” replied the eldest gull; “what’s up? And who are you? And what are you doing in that unnatural lobster pot?”
“I conjure you,” said the parrot earnestly, “I conjure you by our common birdhood to help me in my misfortune.”
“No gull who is a gull can resist that appeal,” said the master of the sea birds; “what can we do, brother-bird?”
“The matter is urgent,” said Polly, but quite calmly. “I am getting very wet and I dislike salt water. It is bad for my plumage. May I give an order to your followers, bird-brother?”
“Give,” said the master gull, with a graceful wheel and whirl of his splendid wings.
“Let four of my brothers raise this detested trap high above the waves,” said the parrot, “and let others of you, with your brave strong beaks, break through the bars and set me free.”
“Delighted,” said the master gull; “any little thing, you know,” and his own high-bred beak was the first to take hold of the cage, which presently the gulls lifted in the air and broke through, setting the parrot free.
“Thank you, brother-birds,” the parrot said, shaking wet wings and spreading them; “one good turn deserves another. The beach yonder was white with cockles but yesterday.”
“Thank you, brother-bird,” they all said, and flew fleetly cocklewards.
And that was how the parrot got free from the cage and went back to the shore to have that little talk with the blugraiwee which I told you about in the last chapter.
The ark was really very pleasant by daylight with the sun shining in at its windows. The sun shone outside as well, of course, and the Union Jack waved cheerfully in the wind. Breakfast was served on the terrace at the end of the ark—you know—that terrace where the boat part turns up. It was a very nice breakfast, and the sea was quite smooth—a quite perfect sea. This was rather fortunate, for there was nothing else. Sea on every side of the ark. No land at all.
“However shall we find the way,” Lucy asked the Lord High Islander, “with nothing but
