have been the African variety of this bird (or the Ligurinus aurantiiventris of the followers of Dr. Cabanis). They were flying in the same direction as the Finch previously mentioned, very low, only about two feet above the water. This was the only flock of any species I saw during the five weeks I was observing land birds.
Later in the afternoon a Quail (Coturnix communis) flew on board and settled on the nettings (or bulwarks, as they are called by landsmen). A marine tried to catch it, but it rose, and flying round the ship settled again in the same place. Then another attempt was made, with the same result; and seven times did this bird settle on its originally selected spot, only to be stalked by various members of the crew, who tried to catch it with their caps, &c. After trying an eighth time to settle, it changed its mind and eventually flew away. I don't know why the bird should have persistently chosen to settle on the same spot each time and meet with the same welcome, considering the ship was over two hundred feet long and there were many more comfortable and secluded spots where it would have been out of sight of everyone.
On getting into the Gulf of Suez next day at about 4 p.m., we were visited by three representatives of the family Hirundinidæ, and Her Majesty's Government that night provided well-aired lodgings, free, for three Swallows (Hirundo rustica), one House-Martin (Chelidon urbica), and three Sand-Martins (Cotile riparia). One of the latter and one of the former were caught and brought to me. The Swallow, when released, began to twitter; and I may say of all the birds I saw during our passage home this was the only one that uttered a note of any sort. The silence of our bird visitors (although they were not representatives of our most garrulous British species) was most apparent, and I cannot understand why it was they should all have been mute.
At the entrance to the Canal we were met by an Egyptian Vulture (Neophron percnopterus), who escorted and saw us safely into the Bitter Lake, although he did not perch on board. After he left, a Willow Wren (Phylloscopus trochilus) flew on board. A most restless little bird it was, flying all over the ship and creeping about the ropes, where, finding nothing in the way of insect life or refreshment, it left us at Ismailia.
