  Tandy was so exhausted from his dreadful experiences at the bottom of the sea hole he spent the rest of the morning flat on his stomach on deck making lively sketches from memory of the City of Seeweegia. Of the sea hole itself not a sign nor vestige remained. The sea, tumbling through the breach made by Nikobo, had closed it up forever and ever. Ato had Roger fetch bandages and witch hazel down to the raft and it took him two hours to bind up the cuts and hurts of the faithful hippopotamus. Then climbing wearily up the rope ladder to the deck, he spent another hour rubbing himself with oil and liniment, muttering darkly about reckless collectors who got themselves and their shipmates collected. "What would WE have done if you'd never got out of that air bowl?" scolded Ato, waving the bottle of liniment at the Captain, who was cheerfully changing into dry clothes. "You know I know nothing about navigation nor one sail from t'other." "Ah—but what you know about sauces!" retorted Samuel, rolling his eyes rapturously. "Of course, I'll grant a ship cannot sail on its stomach, but if the worst had come to the worst, you could have left a note for the sails on the binnacle. 'If it comes up a blow, tie yourselves up.' Ha, ha! Tie yourselves UP!" Jamming his feet into his boots, Samuel blew a kiss to his still muttering shipmate and tramped down to the hold to settle his jellyfish boy in one of the large aquariums. The water boy, about half the size of Tandy, was a jolly enough looking specimen, but kept opening and shutting his mouth like a fish and staring anxiously from his captor to Mo-fi in the cage opposite. Whistling happily and unmindful of the cuts and bruises he had suffered, Samuel filled the bottom of the aquarium with pebbles and shells, put in several seaweed plants he'd fished up in the nets, and soon had the little stranger as happy and cozy as a clam. Giving him and Mo-fi a wafer of fish food, the Royal Explorer of Oz went above to have a look at the weather, for he did not like the way the ship was pitching. In spite of the desperately fatiguing morning they had had, it seemed the voyagers were in for some further excitement. The sky had grown dark and threatening. Dark clouds in ever-increasing numbers scudded along from the east; the sea, rough and angry, was full of racing little whitecaps. Nikobo's raft plunged and rocketed up and down like a bucking bronco, flinging the hippopotamus from side to side and bringing her with squealing protests up against the rail first on one side and then on the other. Fearing for her safety, Samuel with Tandy's help rigged a temporary derrick to the mizzenmast, hove his vessel to, and bidding Nikobo swim round to the side, cleverly hoisted her to the main deck by a hook caught through her harness. Nikobo took it all quite calmly, coming down with a thankful little grunt, glad to be with her shipmates in the gale that was lashing the sea into a rolling, tossing fury of mounting gray water and foam. The wind had risen now almost to hurricane proportions, and taking in all sail and with only a tarpaulin lashed in the main rigging, Samuel prepared with bared poles to ride out the storm. Ato, always ready and helpful in a crisis, trudged up and down the heaving decks with pails of hot soup and coffee, and after a hasty lunch, all hands fell to closing ports, battening hatches and removing from the decks all loose gear and equipment. As it was impossible to shove Nikobo through the door of the main cabin, Samuel lashed her tightly to the mizzenmast and with an old sail round her shoulders the hippopotamus anxiously watched the mountainous waves breaking over the bow and running down into the scuppers. It was all so wild and new, so dangerous and exciting, Tandy begged Samuel to let him stay on deck. Much against his better judgment, Samuel finally gave his consent, tying Tandy fast to Nikobo and the mizzenmast. If anything happened to the ship, reflected Samuel, fighting his way back to the wheel, the hippopotamus could keep Tandy afloat and take care of him besides. Ato and Roger, not being needed on deck and not caring for storms, shut themselves up in the main cabin for a game of checkers. But checkers and board soon flew through the air, and the two had all they could do to hang on to their chairs as the Crescent Moon pitched headlong into the cavernous hollows and struggled up the mountainous ridges of the great running seas. |
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