CHAPTER VIII.

TOWARDS THE GREAT WEST LAND

“We don’t seem to have done much good,” grumbled Tibbs.

“And you never will, if you grumble,” said a cheery voice, which they knew belonged to Mr. Atom, although he was far too small for them to see. “You’ll never find a December day in these cold parts, if you stay here till the moon turns into cheese.”

“I suppose not. But whatever are we to do?” said Coppertop.

“See if the West Wind has one to spare.”

“’Es, but how are we to find him?” asked Kiddiwee, in a tired little voice.

“That’s easy,” said Mr. Atom cheerily. “He lives in the Great West Land.”

“How shall we get there?” asked all three children, excitedly.

“Just--

Walk with the Sunshine Upon your right shoulder, And you’ll reach the West Land Before you’re much older.

Ta-ta!”

And with this advice he left them.

“Come on! Let’s try it,” cried Tibbs, beaming. And turning their backs on the South Wind’s Castle, they commenced their long tramp to the West.

“I do wish I was my right size again,” sighed Coppertop. “It’s so tiring walking, and we simply can’t fly whilst we’re so large.” As she uttered this wish she suddenly commenced to grow smaller and smaller, until, to her great joy, she was her right size again.

“That’s strange!” she exclaimed, and then she noticed that she had her foot upon a bright green stone, frozen into the ice.

“It’s a Wishing Stone!” explained Tibbs, who was also growing rapidly smaller.

“’Es, so it is,” cried Kiddiwee. But how either of them knew anything about it was a puzzle, for they had never seen it before.

“Hurrah!” exclaimed Coppertop joyfully, realising the power that the Wishing Stone gave her. “I’ll wish for a fine, hot----”

Before she could say “December day” a gust of warm wind blew round them, and the sun came out through the hazy sky and shone brightly upon them.

“It IS a December day!” she cried, clapping her hands with joy.

“It is the right day at last!”

“But in the wrong place!” sneered a voice from a passing cloud. And looking up, the children saw the mean, spiteful face of the Clerk of the Weather.

“What does he mean by that?” growled Tibbs. “I’d like to punch that chap!”

But they soon found out what he meant. For the snow and the ice all round them were melting rapidly with the heat of the December day sun upon it.

The icebergs thawed into waterfalls, and the snow melted from under their feet, and in a very short while they were floating helplessly in a vast sea, where the field of ice had been.

* * * * *

“Cheer up!” said the familiar voice of Mr. Atom. “Things are seldom as bad as they seem. Keep up your hearts and your heels, and you’ll never drown.”

“I don’t believe I care much if I do!” sighed Coppertop. “Things are so awfully disappointing--just when I thought I had it, too! If I don’t get it soon, Mummie and Daddy will arrive on no day at all, and I shan’t be there either. They’ll be terrifikly upset--I know they will. And I’m just dying to see them.”

“You’ll die without seeing them, my dear, if you don’t do as I tell you. Keep your heart and your heels up.”

“Cheer up, old girl!” said Tibbs, who was swimming close by.

“’Es, cheer up, Cece!” echoed Kiddiwee, as he floated past.

“But I did think I had it at last!” sobbed Coppertop.

“You can’t get a thing by just ‘wishing’ for it,” warned Mr. Atom. “Nothing that’s worth having is won that way.”

“That’s all very well, but however are we to get it? We shan’t find it in this horrid old sea,” pouted the child.

“Then take to your wings and fly to the West Land as fast as you can--that’s my advice,” said Mr. Atom.

“Wings!” shouted the children.

“Why, we quite forgot we had any!” cried Coppertop, brightening up.

“There is always a way out of troubles,” smiled Mr. Atom. “By-by!” And he was gone.

Up into the warm air flew the children, spreading their wings gladly. And--

Keeping the Sunshine Upon the right shoulder

they sped off towards the West.

After flying some miles, they came upon a number of sea-gulls, who seemed very interested in the children.

“Funny things,” said one gull. “They don’t seem to have any tails.”

“I expect they’re some new kind of bat,” said another. “Bats have four legs, and so have these!”

“Very ugly bats!” cried a third; “their skin is all loose, and they haven’t any fur on it.”

“They are not bats. Bats only fly in the twilight! These have wings like flying fish,” said one who had travelled far.

“Queer fish!” sneered another. “I shouldn’t like to eat ’em. You try.”

“Gracious! I only hope they don’t!” cried Coppertop, in alarm.

“They’d better not attempt to!” said Tibbs, rolling back his sleeves. “Do you remember that lovely sea-gull pie we ate last Sunday!” he cried in a loud voice.

“We didn’t----” began Coppertop.

“Hush!” warned Tibbs. “Look!”

For at the mention of “sea-gull pie” the birds nearest to them grew pale, and edged nervously away.

“Monsters!” shrieked a large hen sea-gull, but she flew off when Tibbs looked at her. And very soon they all departed, uttering dismal cries, and the travellers were left in peace to continue their journey.

* * * * *

“Gracious me! what is that great bird?” cried Coppertop, pointing to a large white creature gliding through the air in front of them.

“It’s a great-great-grandpapa sea-gull, I ’spect,” ventured Kiddiwee.

“Nonsense!” said Tibbs. “That’s an Albatross.”

“’Es, so it is!” agreed Kiddiwee. “Do Albertroters bite?” he added.

“We shall soon know,” said Tibbs, as the great bird swooped round and came towards them.

“’Es, but I don’t want to know--like that!” cried Kiddiwee. “If he bites Cece, I’ll kill him dead! I will.”

“Oh, I’M not frightened of a bird!” said Coppertop, “besides, he’s got quite a kind sort of face, hasn’t he?”

“Thought you might like a lift, my hearties!” said the Albatross, abruptly, as he flew up. “Where are you bound?”

“West Land, sir,” said Tibbs, who determined to humour the bird.

“It’s a long, long way to----”

“Is he going to sing ‘Tipperary?’” thought Coppertop.

“West Land!” remarked the Albatross. “Get aboard, you lubbers--I’m sailing that way.”

Coppertop didn’t know whether to be annoyed or not at being addressed as a “lubber,” but decided that the bird meant it kindly.

“Not all on the starboard side, or we’ll capsize,” warned the Albatross, as the children hastened to avail themselves of his kind invitation. “Stow yourselves abaft the hatch between the main-sheets,” he directed.

“But there aren’t any sheets!” said Coppertop, in bewilderment, “or even blankets!” although as she said this, it seemed to her that he was rather like a bed--a feather one.

“He means his wings,” whispered Tibbs; “we must sit up here on his shoulders.”

“Are you all aboard, my hearties?”

“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.

They were cruising about in the air above the Whale’s head, wondering how to announce their visit politely, there being no front door knocker, nor even an electric bell.

“Look out! I believe something’s going to happen!” cried Tibbs, suddenly.

For there had come a strange gurgling sound beneath them. And the next moment, before the Albatross could move a wing, the Whale SPOUTED!

They were drenched! They were soaked to the skin, and even under that!

This was evidently a little joke on the part of the Whale, for he had his absurd little eyes open all the while, and must have waited until the Albatross and the children were over his head.

“Man the pumps, you lubberly longshoremen! I’m foundering!” shouted the distracted bird.

“Who’s floundering? What do you mean?” cried Tibbs, bewildered by the sudden uprush of water.

Kiddiwee was too frightened to say anything at first; he just clung to one of the bird’s big wing feathers, and waited for the deluge to stop.

Coppertop was the calmest of all. She was so busy trying to obey the orders of the confused Albatross that she had no time to be afraid.

“Tibbs, do help!” she cried.

“He wants us to ‘man the pumps’--whatever that is! And where are the pumps? I can’t see any. It’s terrifikly confusing!” she added. “And my hair’s all in my eyes! I’m positive I look a sight!”

“Yes, you do!” said Tibbs, with brotherly frankness. “And the old bird is crazy!” he cried. “He imagines he’s a ship.”

“He looks more like a bed to me!” said Coppertop. And then she wondered why she had said it.

Then came the gurgling sound from below, once more.

The Albatross swerved, and the children turned pale--they thought they were going to have a second drenching.

But this time it was only Mr. Skipper Blubberkins laughing at the success of his little joke.

At this the Albatross quivered with rage, and flew down to tell the Whale exactly--or very nearly--what he thought of him. He was in a furious temper, and shrieked at the placid Whale. But Mr. Skipper Blubberkins only gurgled more than ever, until the bird grew so hoarse he could not utter another word.

“You shouldn’t lose your temper, and say things like that in front of my sister!” cried Tibbs, leaning forward and shouting to the angry bird.

“Lar! Bless me!” cried the Whale, as he caught sight of Tibbs. “Why didn’t you say you had a cargo aboard. Maybe I shouldn’t have made so free with my spoutings, if I’d known.”

“Blow me!” retorted the Albatross, “you should look before you spout!”

“Where are e’ going, my dears?” shouted the Whale, as two other heads came peeping over.

“To the West Land,” answered Coppertop. “We’re searching for a December day,” she added, “and we thought the West Wind might lend us one of his.”

“Lar, now! Why, you’ve just missed the West Wind by a fin’s length! He blew by here about two bells after the dog watch. Won’t you come inside and sit down?” added Mr. Skipper Blubberkins, with an inviting smile.

“Not if I know it!” said the Albatross ungraciously. And with one sweep of his mighty wings he sped on, and the Whale was soon left behind.

“I--I should rather like to have gone in!” said Coppertop.