Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (version 3 Dramatic Reading) — Part 6 Chapters 4-6
THE SEA-SERPENT
FOR a long time after that Cabinet Meeting of which I have just told you we did not ask the Doctor anything further about going home.
Life in Spidermonkey Island went forward, month in month out, busily and pleasantly.
The Winter, with Christmas celebrations, came and went, and Summer was with us once again before we knew it.
As time passed the Doctor became more and more taken up with the care of his big family; and the hours he could spare for his natural history work grew fewer and fewer.
I knew that he often still thought of his house and garden in Puddleby and of his old plans and ambitions;
because once in a while we would notice his face grow thoughtful and a little sad, when something reminded him of England or his old life.
But he never spoke of these things.
And I truly believe he would have spent the remainder of his days on Spidermonkey Island if it hadn’t been for an accident—and for Polynesia.
The old parrot had grown very tired of the Indians and she made no secret of it.
“The very idea,” she said to me one day as we were walking on the seashore—“the idea of the famous John Dolittle spending his valuable life waiting on these greasy natives!
—Why, it’s preposterous!
” All that morning we had been watching the Doctor superintend the building of the new theatre in Popsipetel—there was already an opera-house and a concert-hall; and finally she had got so grouchy and annoyed at the sight that I had suggested her taking a walk with me.
“Do you really think,” I asked as we sat down on the sands, “that he will never go back to Puddleby again?
” “I don’t know,” said she.
“At one time I felt sure that the thought of the pets he had left behind at the house would take him home soon.
But since Miranda brought him word last August that everything was all right there, that hope’s gone.
For months and months I’ve been racking my brains to think up a plan.
If we could only hit upon something that would turn his thoughts back to natural history again—I mean something big enough to get him really excited—we might manage it.
But how?
”—she shrugged her shoulders in disgust—“How?
—when all he thinks of now is paving streets and teaching papooses that twice one are two!
” It was a perfect Popsipetel day, bright and hot, blue and yellow.
Drowsily I looked out to sea thinking of my mother and father.
I
wondered if they were getting anxious over my long absence.
Beside me old Polynesia went on grumbling away in low steady tones; and her words began to mingle and mix with the gentle lapping of the waves upon the shore.
It may have been the even murmur of her voice, helped by the soft and balmy air, that lulled me to sleep.
I don’t know.
Anyhow I presently dreamed that the island had moved again—not floatingly as before, but suddenly, jerkily, as though something enormously powerful had heaved it up from its bed just once and let it down.
How long I slept after that I have no idea.
I was awakened by a gentle pecking on the nose.
“Tommy!
—Tommy!
” (it was Polynesia’s voice) “Wake up!
—Gosh, what a boy, to sleep through an earthquake and never notice it!
—Tommy, listen: here’s our chance now.
Wake _up_, for goodness’ sake!
” “What’s the matter?
” I asked sitting up with a yawn.
“Sh!
—Look!
” whispered Polynesia pointing out to sea.
Still only half awake, I stared before me with bleary, sleep-laden eyes.
And in the shallow water, not more than thirty yards from shore I saw an enormous pale pink shell.
Dome-shaped, it towered up in a graceful rainbow curve to a tremendous height; and round its base the surf broke gently in little waves of white.
It could have belonged to the wildest dream.
“What in the world is it?
” I asked.
“That,” whispered Polynesia, “is what sailors for hundreds of years have called the _Sea-serpent_.
I’ve seen it myself more than once from the decks of ships, at long range, curving in and out of the water.
But now that I see it close and still, I very strongly suspect that the Sea-serpent of history is no other than the Great Glass Sea-snail that the fidgit told us of.
If that isn’t the only fish of its kind in the seven seas, call me a carrion-crow—Tommy, we’re in luck.
Our job is to get the Doctor down here to look at that prize specimen before it moves off to the Deep Hole.
If we can, then trust me, we may leave this blessed island yet.
You stay here and keep an eye on it while I go after the Doctor.
Don’t move or speak—don’t even breathe heavy: he might get scared—awful timid things, snails.
Just watch him; and I’ll be back in two shakes.
” Stealthily creeping up the sands till she could get behind the cover of some bushes before she took to her wings, Polynesia went off in the direction of the town; while I remained alone upon the shore fascinatedly watching this unbelievable monster wallowing in the shallow sea.
It moved very little.
From time to time it lifted its head out of the water showing its enormously long neck and horns.
Occasionally it would try and draw itself up, the way a snail does when he goes to move, but almost at once it would sink down again as if exhausted.
It seemed to me to act as though it were hurt underneath; but the lower part of it, which was below the level of the water, I could not see.
I was still absorbed in watching the great beast when Polynesia returned with the Doctor.
They approached so silently and so cautiously that I neither saw nor heard them coming till I found them crouching beside me on the sand.
One sight of the snail changed the Doctor completely.
His eyes just sparkled with delight.
I had not seen him so thrilled and happy since the time we caught the Jabizri beetle when we first landed on the island.
“It is he!
” he whispered—“the Great Glass Sea-snail himself—not a doubt of it.
Polynesia, go down the shore away and see if you can find any of the porpoises for me.
Perhaps they can tell us what the snail is doing here—It’s very unusual for him to be in shallow water like this.
And Stubbins, you go over to the harbor and bring me a small canoe.
But be most careful how you paddle it round into this bay.
If the snail should take fright and go out into the deeper water, we may never get a chance to see him again.
” “And don’t tell any of the Indians,” Polynesia added in a whisper as I moved to go.
“We must keep this a secret or we’ll have a crowd of sightseers round here in five minutes.
It’s mighty lucky we found the snail in a quiet bay.
” Reaching the harbor, I picked out a small light canoe from among the number that were lying there and without telling any one what I wanted it for, got in and started off to paddle it down the shore.
I was mortally afraid that the snail might have left before I got back.
And you can imagine how delighted I was, when I rounded a rocky cape and came in sight of the bay, to find he was still there.
Polynesia, I saw, had got her errand done and returned ahead of me, bringing with her a pair of porpoises.
These were already conversing in low tones with John Dolittle.
I beached the canoe and went up to listen.
“What I want to know,” the Doctor was saying, “is how the snail comes to be here.
I was given to understand that he usually stayed in the Deep Hole; and that when he did come to the surface it was always in mid-ocean.
” “Oh, didn’t you know?
—Haven’t you heard?
” the porpoises replied: “you covered up the Deep Hole when you sank the island.
Why yes: you let it down right on top of the mouth of the Hole—sort of put the lid on, as it were.
The fishes that were in it at the time have been trying to get out ever since.
The Great Snail had the worst luck of all: the island nipped him by the tail just as he was leaving the Hole for a quiet evening stroll.
And he was held there for six months trying to wriggle himself free.
Finally he had to heave the whole island up at one end to get his tail loose.
Didn’t you feel a sort of an earthquake shock about an hour ago?
” “Yes I did,” said the Doctor, “it shook down part of the theatre I was building.
” “Well, that was the snail heaving up the island to get out of the Hole,” they said.
“All the other fishes saw their chance and escaped when he raised the lid.
It was lucky for them he’s so big and strong.
But the strain of that terrific heave told on him: he sprained a muscle in his tail and it started swelling rather badly.
He wanted some quiet place to rest up; and seeing this soft beach handy he crawled in here.
” “Dear me!
” said the Doctor.
“I’m terribly sorry.
I suppose I should have given some sort of notice that the island was going to be let down.
But, to tell the truth, we didn’t know it ourselves; it happened by a kind of an accident.
Do you imagine the poor fellow is hurt very badly?
” “We’re not sure,” said the porpoises; “because none of us can speak his language.
But we swam right around him on our way in here, and he did not seem to be really seriously injured.
” “Can’t any of your people speak shellfish?
” the Doctor asked.
“Not a word,” said they.
“It’s a most frightfully difficult language.
” “Do you think that you might be able to find me some kind of a fish that could?
” “We don’t know,” said the porpoises.
“We might try.
” “I should be extremely grateful to you if you would,” said the Doctor.
“There are many important questions I want to ask this snail—And besides, I would like to do my best to cure his tail for him.
It’s the least I can do.
After all, it was my fault, indirectly, that he got hurt.
” “Well, if you wait here,” said the porpoises, “we’ll see what can be done.
” _THE FIFTH CHAPTER_
THE SHELLFISH RIDDLE SOLVED AT LAST
SO Doctor Dolittle with a crown on his head sat down upon the shore like King Knut, and waited.
And for a whole hour the porpoises kept going and coming, bringing up different kinds of sea-beasts from the deep to see if they could help him.
Many and curious were the creatures they produced.
It would seem however that there were very few things that spoke shellfish except the shellfish themselves.
Still, the porpoises grew a little more hopeful when they discovered a very old sea-urchin (a funny, ball-like, little fellow with long whiskers all over him) who said he could not speak pure shellfish, but he used to understand starfish—enough to get along—when he was young.
This was coming nearer, even if it wasn’t anything to go crazy about.
Leaving the urchin with us, the porpoises went off once more to hunt up a starfish.
They were not long getting one, for they were quite common in those parts.
Then, using the sea-urchin as an interpreter, they questioned the starfish.
He was a rather stupid sort of creature; but he tried his best to be helpful.
And after a little patient examination we found to our delight that he could speak shellfish moderately well.
Feeling quite encouraged, the Doctor and I now got into the canoe; and, with the porpoises, the urchin and the starfish swimming alongside, we paddled very gently out till we were close under the towering shell of the Great Snail.
And then began the most curious conversation I have ever witnessed.
First the starfish would ask the snail something; and whatever answer the snail gave, the starfish would tell it to the sea-urchin, the urchin would tell it to the porpoises and the porpoises would tell it to the Doctor.
In this way we obtained considerable information, mostly about the very ancient history of the Animal Kingdom; but we missed a good many of the finer points in the snail’s longer speeches on account of the stupidity of the starfish and all this translating from one language to another.
While the snail was speaking, the Doctor and I put our ears against the wall of his shell and found that we could in this way hear the sound of his voice quite plainly.
It was, as the fidgit had described, deep and bell-like.
But of course we could not understand a single word he said.
However the Doctor was by this time terrifically excited about getting near to learning the language he had sought so long.
And presently by making the other fishes repeat over and over again short phrases which the snail used, he began to put words together for himself.
You see, he was already familiar with one or two fish languages; and that helped him quite a little.
After he had practised for a while like this he leant over the side of the canoe and putting his face below the water, tried speaking to the snail direct.
It was hard and difficult work; and hours went by before he got any results.
But presently I could tell by the happy look on his face that little by little he was succeeding.
The sun was low in the West and the cool evening breeze was beginning to rustle softly through the bamboo-groves when the Doctor finally turned from his work and said to me, “Stubbins, I have persuaded the snail to come in on to the dry part of the beach and let me examine his tail.
Will you please go back to the town and tell the workmen to stop working on the theatre for to-day?
Then go on to the palace and get my medicine-bag.
I think I left it under the throne in the Audience Chamber.
” “And remember,” Polynesia whispered as I turned away, “not a word to a soul.
If you get asked questions, keep your mouth shut.
Pretend you have a toothache or something.
” This time when I got back to the shore—with the medicine-bag—I found the snail high and dry on the beach.
Seeing him in his full length like this, it was easy to understand how old-time, superstitious sailors had called him the Sea-serpent.
He certainly was a most gigantic, and in his way, a graceful, beautiful creature.
John Dolittle was examining a swelling on his tail.
From the bag which I had brought the Doctor took a large bottle of embrocation and began rubbing the sprain.
Next he took all the bandages he had in the bag and fastened them end to end.
But even like that, they were not long enough to go more than halfway round the enormous tail.
The Doctor insisted that he must get the swelling strapped tight somehow.
So he sent me off to the palace once more to get all the sheets from the Royal Linen-closet.
These Polynesia and I tore into bandages for him.
And at last, after terrific exertions, we got the sprain strapped to his satisfaction.
The snail really seemed to be quite pleased with the attention he had received; and he stretched himself in lazy comfort when the Doctor was done.
In this position, when the shell on his back was empty, you could look right through it and see the palm-trees on the other side.
“I think one of us had better sit up with him all night,” said the Doctor.
“We might put Bumpo on that duty; he’s been napping all day, I know—in the summer-house.
It’s a pretty bad sprain, that; and if the snail shouldn’t be able to sleep, he’ll be happier with some one with him for company.
He’ll get all right though—in a few days I should judge.
If I wasn’t so confoundedly busy I’d sit up with him myself.
I
wish I could, because I still have a lot of things to talk over with him.
” “But Doctor,” said Polynesia as we prepared to go back to the town, “you ought to take a holiday.
All Kings take holidays once in the while—every one of them.
King Charles, for instance—of course Charles was before your time—but he!
—why, he was _always_ holiday-making.
Not that he was ever what you would call a model king.
But just the same, he was frightfully popular.
Everybody liked him—even the golden-carp in the fish-pond at Hampton Court.
As a king, the only thing I had against him was his inventing those stupid, little, snappy dogs they call King Charles Spaniels.
There are lots of stories told about poor Charles;
but that, in my opinion, is the worst thing he did.
However, all this is beside the point.
As I was saying, kings have to take holidays the same as anybody else.
And you haven’t taken one since you were crowned, have you now?
” “No,” said the Doctor, “I suppose that’s true.
” “Well now I tell you what you do,” said she: “as soon as you get back to the palace you publish a royal proclamation that you are going away for a week into the country for your health.
And you’re going _without any servants_, you understand—just like a plain person.
It’s called traveling incognito, when kings go off like that.
They all do it—It’s the only way they can ever have a good time.
Then the week you’re away you can spend lolling on the beach back there with the snail.
How’s that?
” “I’d like to,” said the Doctor.
“It sounds most attractive.
But there’s that new theatre to be built; none of our carpenters would know how to get those rafters on without me to show them—And then there are the babies: these native mothers are so frightfully ignorant.
” “Oh bother the theatre—and the babies too,” snapped Polynesia.
“The theatre can wait a week.
And as for babies, they never have anything more than colic.
How do you suppose babies got along before you came here, for heaven’s sake?
—Take a holiday....
You need it.
” _THE SIXTH CHAPTER_
THE LAST CABINET MEETING
FROM the way Polynesia talked, I guessed that this idea of a holiday was part of her plan.
The Doctor made no reply; and we walked on silently towards the town.
I
could see, nevertheless that her words had made an impression on him.
After supper he disappeared from the palace without saying where he was going—a thing he had never done before.
Of course we all knew where he had gone: back to the beach to sit up with the snail.
We were sure of it because he had said nothing to Bumpo about attending to the matter.
As soon as the doors were closed upon the Cabinet Meeting that night, Polynesia addressed the Ministry: “Look here, you fellows,” said she: “we’ve simply got to get the Doctor to take this holiday somehow—unless we’re willing to stay in this blessed island for the rest of our lives.
” “But what difference,” Bumpo asked, “is his taking a holiday going to make?
” Impatiently Polynesia turned upon the Minister of the Interior.
“Don’t you see?
If he has a clear week to get thoroughly interested in his natural history again—marine stuff, his dream of seeing the floor of the ocean and all that—there may be some chance of his consenting to leave this pesky place.
But while he is here on duty as king he never gets a moment to think of anything outside of the business of government.
” “Yes, that’s true.
He’s far too consententious,” Bumpo agreed.
“And besides,” Polynesia went on, “his only hope of ever getting away from here would be to escape secretly.
He’s got to leave while he is holiday-making, incognito—when no one knows where he is or what he’s doing, but us.
If he built a ship big enough to cross the sea in, all the Indians would see it, and hear it, being built; and they’d ask what it was for.
They would interfere.
They’d sooner have anything happen than lose the Doctor.
Why, I believe if they thought he had any idea of escaping they would put chains on him.
” “Yes, I really think they would,” I agreed.
“Yet without a ship of some kind I don’t see how the Doctor is going to get away, even secretly.
” “Well, I’ll tell you,” said Polynesia.
“If we do succeed in making him take this holiday, our next step will be to get the sea-snail to promise to take us all in his shell and carry us to the mouth of Puddleby River.
If we can once get the snail willing, the temptation will be too much for John Dolittle and he’ll come, I know—especially as he’ll be able to take those new plants and drugs of Long Arrow’s to the English doctors, as well as see the floor of the ocean on the way.
” “How thrilling!
” I cried.
“Do you mean the snail could take us under the sea all the way back to Puddleby?
” “Certainly,” said Polynesia, “a little trip like that is nothing to him.
He would crawl along the floor of the ocean and the Doctor could see all the sights.
Perfectly simple.
Oh, John Dolittle will come all right, if we can only get him to take that holiday—_and_ if the snail will consent to give us the ride.
” “Golly, I hope he does!
” sighed Jip.
“I’m sick of these beastly tropics—they make you feel so lazy and good-for-nothing.
And there are no rats or anything here—not that a fellow would have the energy to chase ’em even if there were.
My, wouldn’t I be glad to see old Puddleby and the garden again!
And won’t Dab-Dab be glad to have us back!
” “By the end of next month,” said I, “it will be two whole years since we left England—since we pulled up the anchor at Kingsbridge and bumped our way out into the river.
” “And got stuck on the mud-bank,” added Chee-Chee in a dreamy, far-away voice.
“Do you remember how all the people waved to us from the river-wall?
” I asked.
“Yes.
And I suppose they’ve often talked about us in the town since,” said Jip—“wondering whether we’re dead or alive.
” “Cease,” said Bumpo, “I feel I am about to weep from sediment.
”
