The water, too, grew warm, slowly becoming an indigo blue. For the first time the Black felt a strong surge of hope stir within him. He had entered a “river” in the sea and he let the fresh, strong current carry him on, his long legs moving only enough to keep him afloat.

He was aware of the huge bird above him but he ignored it, instinct telling him that he had nothing to fear from it. His enemies were below, deep in the water where he could not see them. A short distance away the sea suddenly boiled with little fish, leaping and splashing, their bodies silver in the sun. They were not playing, he knew, but struggling to survive. What was going on below the surface to scare them so? Whatever it was, he, too, feared it.

The man-o’-war bird continued to hang motionless in the air.

A dorsal fin and tail knifed the blue water, wove gracefully in and out, then disappeared below. A few minutes later the big fish rose again, this time leaping clear of the sea in a long graceful arc, its body a lustrous blue and silver in the morning light. It was a marlin, and it must have eaten its fill, for when it submerged again the boiling waters became still.

Yet the Black knew that a choice between life and death remained and that there was no time to rest. He watched the sea about him for strange shapes that could only be dangerous, fierce and horrible because he had little means of fighting back. Suddenly two monstrous eyes stared at him from a few feet away. He kicked out savagely, and the eyes and snout in the big forepart of the creature disappeared below, its tentacles clawing the air. The giant squid skidded away.

The broodmares and fillies swam closer to the Black, and he looked up at the big bird hovering alongside, wondering why it remained. His gaze returned to the sea around him but his ears stayed cocked in the bird’s direction as he listened to sounds inaudible to the human ear. The other horses, too, pointed their ears in the bird’s direction.

The man-o’-war bird suddenly began moving its wings, flying higher into the sky. It gave one shrill call, then was quiet again except for the beating of its tremendous wings. After a short while it was no more than a black sail in the heavens, circling and rising with the upper winds.

For many hours the strong ocean current carried the Black and his small band to the north and west. By mid-afternoon they were joined by hundreds of swarming birds and the scent of land was strong! The Black watched the birds, some peeling off from formations and diving into the sea after fish while others drifted and soared, waiting to steal.

Flying fish streamed by in a procession of silvery bodies. They zipped magically out of the water and glided long distances before dipping their tails into the sea and rising again. When they finally came down, they skittered along the surface before plunging into the depths.

Close to the Black a pelican rested after its plunge into the sea from lofty heights. It threw back its heavy-billed head and swallowed its catch. A floating cormorant beside the pelican stretched its long neck and violently beat the air with its wings, then it dived below in search of food. Busier than any of the other birds were the small terns, fishing endlessly and seemingly without rest. They struck the water again and again and again, emerging immediately always against the wind, a fish in their bills, and seeking to keep and eat it before losing it to a pirate gull.

An hour before sunset the homeward flight of the birds began. Except for the pelicans, who appeared to be content to spend the night at sea, they streaked for roosting places on distant reefs.

The Black made no attempt to break away from the warm current and follow the birds. He let himself be borne along as they and, later, the reefs slipped by. And all the while he kept looking toward the west. His eyes strayed only occasionally, and each time it was to glance skyward at the black bird still flying high above.

Still later, a familiar scent grew strong in his nostrils and a short distance away the cloudy peak of an island rose from the sea. It was bare of vegetation and seemed more foreboding than the tiniest coral atoll he had passed.

Hovering in the wind above this island peak was the man-o’-war bird. Below in an isolated nest was another of its kind, a female with brownish-black feathers and a splotched white breast.