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. CHAPTER 17 The Old Man of the Jungle! In the splendid white marble Palace in the splendid White City of Ozamaland the nine Ozamandarins sat in solemn conference.