The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (10 page)

THE trial went swiftly forward after that. Mr. Jenkyns told the Doctor
to ask Bob what he saw on the "night of the 29th;" and when Bob had told
all he knew and the Doctor had turned it into English for the judge and
the jury, this was what he had to say:

"On the night of the 29th of November, 1824, I was with my master, Luke
Fitzjohn (otherwise known as Luke the Hermit) and his two partners,
Manuel Mendoza and William Boggs (otherwise known as Bluebeard Bill)
on their gold-mine in Mexico. For a long time these three men had been
hunting for gold; and they had dug a deep hole in the ground. On the
morning of the 29th gold was discovered, lots of it, at the bottom of
this hole. And all three, my master and his two partners, were very
happy about it because now they would be rich. But Manuel Mendoza asked
Bluebeard Bill to go for a walk with him. These two men I had always
suspected of being bad. So when I noticed that they left my master
behind, I followed them secretly to see what they were up to. And in a
deep cave in the mountains I heard them arrange together to kill Luke
the Hermit so that they should get all the gold and he have none."

At this point the judge asked, "Where is the witness Mendoza? Constable,
see that he does not leave the court."

But the wicked little man with the watery eyes had already sneaked out
when no one was looking and he was never seen in Puddleby again.

"Then," Bob's statement went on, "I went to my master and tried very
hard to make him understand that his partners were dangerous men. But it
was no use. He did not understand dog language. So I did the next best
thing: I never let him out of my sight but stayed with him every moment
of the day and night.

"Now the hole that they had made was so deep that to get down and up it
you had to go in a big bucket tied on the end of a rope; and the three
men used to haul one another up and let one another down the mine in
this way. That was how the gold was brought up too—in the bucket. Well,
about seven o'clock in the evening my master was standing at the top of
the mine, hauling up Bluebeard Bill who was in the bucket. Just as he
had got Bill halfway up I saw Mendoza come out of the hut where we
all lived. Mendoza thought that Bill was away buying groceries. But
he wasn't: he was in the bucket. And when Mendoza saw Luke hauling and
straining on the rope he thought he was pulling up a bucketful of gold.
So he drew a pistol from his pocket and came sneaking up behind Luke to
shoot him.

"I barked and barked to warn my master of the danger he was in; but he
was so busy hauling up Bill (who was a heavy fat man) that he took no
notice of me. I saw that if I didn't do something quick he would surely
be shot. So I did a thing I've never done before: suddenly and savagely
I bit my master in the leg from behind. Luke was so hurt and startled
that he did just what I wanted him to do: he let go the rope with both
hands at once and turned round. And then, CRASH! down went Bill in his
bucket to the bottom of the mine and he was killed.

"While my master was busy scolding me Mendoza put his pistol in his
pocket, came up with a smile on his face and looked down the mine.

"'Why, Good Gracious'!" said he to Luke, 'You've killed Bluebeard Bill.
I must go and tell the police'—hoping, you see, to get the whole mine
to himself when Luke should be put in prison. Then he jumped on his
horse and galloped away."

"And soon my master grew afraid; for he saw that if Mendoza only told
enough lies to the police, it WOULD look as though he had killed Bill on
purpose. So while Mendoza was gone he and I stole away together secretly
and came to England. Here he shaved off his beard and became a hermit.
And ever since, for fifteen years, we've remained in hiding. This is all
I have to say. And I swear it is the truth, every word."

When the Doctor finished reading Bob's long speech the excitement among
the twelve men of the jury was positively terrific. One, a very old man
with white hair, began to weep in a loud voice at the thought of poor
Luke hiding on the fen for fifteen years for something he couldn't help.
And all the others set to whispering and nodding their heads to one
another.

In the middle of all this up got that horrible Prosecutor again, waving
his arms more wildly than ever.

"Your Honor," he cried, "I must object to this evidence as biased.
Of course the dog would not tell the truth against his own master. I
object. I protest."

"Very well," said the judge, "you are at liberty to cross-examine. It is
your duty as Prosecutor to prove his evidence untrue. There is the dog:
question him, if you do not believe what he says."

I thought the long-nosed lawyer would have a fit. He looked first at
the dog, then at the Doctor, then at the judge, then back at the dog
scowling from the witness-box. He opened his mouth to say something;
but no words came. He waved his arms some more. His face got redder and
redder. At last, clutching his forehead, he sank weakly into his seat
and had to be helped out of the court-room by two friends. As he
was half carried through the door he was still feebly murmuring, "I
protest—I object—I protest!"

NEXT the judge made a very long speech to the jury; and when it was over
all the twelve jurymen got up and went out into the next room. And at
that point the Doctor came back, leading Bob, to the seat beside me.

"What have the jurymen gone out for?" I asked.

"They always do that at the end of a trial—to make up their minds
whether the prisoner did it or not."

"Couldn't you and Bob go in with them and help them make up their minds
the right way?" I asked.

"No, that's not allowed. They have to talk it over in secret. Sometimes
it takes—My Gracious, look, they're coming back already! They didn't
spend long over it."

Everybody kept quite still while the twelve men came tramping back
into their places in the pews. Then one of them, the leader—a little
man—stood up and turned to the judge. Every one was holding his breath,
especially the Doctor and myself, to see what he was going to say. You
could have heard a pin drop while the whole court-room, the whole of
Puddleby in fact, waited with craning necks and straining ears to hear
the weighty words.

"Your Honor," said the little man, "the jury returns a verdict of NOT
GUILTY."

"What's that mean?" I asked, turning to the Doctor.

But I found Doctor John Dolittle, the famous naturalist, standing on top
of a chair, dancing about on one leg like a schoolboy.

"It means he's free!" he cried, "Luke is free!"

"Then he'll be able to come on the voyage with us, won't he?"

But I could not hear his answer; for the whole court-room seemed to be
jumping up on chairs like the Doctor. The crowd had suddenly gone crazy.
All the people were laughing and calling and waving to Luke to show him
how glad they were that he was free. The noise was deafening.

Then it stopped. All was quiet again; and the people stood up
respectfully while the judge left the Court. For the trial of Luke the
Hermit, that famous trial which to this day they are still talking of in
Puddleby, was over.

In the hush while the judge was leaving, a sudden shriek rang out,
and there, in the doorway stood a woman, her arms out-stretched to the
Hermit.

"Luke!" she cried, "I've found you at last!"

"It's his wife," the fat woman in front of me whispered. "She ain't
seen 'im in fifteen years, poor dear! What a lovely re-union. I'm glad I
came. I wouldn't have missed this for anything!"

As soon as the judge had gone the noise broke out again; and now the
folks gathered round Luke and his wife and shook them by the hand and
congratulated them and laughed over them and cried over them.

"Come along, Stubbins," said the Doctor, taking me by the arm, "let's
get out of this while we can."

"But aren't you going to speak to Luke?" I said—"to ask him if he'll
come on the voyage?"

"It wouldn't be a bit of use," said the Doctor. "His wife's come for
him. No man stands any chance of going on a voyage when his wife hasn't
seen him in fifteen years. Come along. Let's get home to tea. We didn't
have any lunch, remember. And we've earned something to eat. We'll have
one of those mixed meals, lunch and tea combined—with watercress and
ham. Nice change. Come along."

Just as we were going to step out at a side door I heard the crowd
shouting,

"The Doctor! The Doctor! Where's the Doctor? The Hermit would have
hanged if it hadn't been for the Doctor. Speech! Speech!—The Doctor!"

And a man came running up to us and said,

"The people are calling for you, Sir."

"I'm very sorry," said the Doctor, "but I'm in a hurry."

"The crowd won't be denied, Sir," said the man. "They want you to make a
speech in the marketplace."

"Beg them to excuse me," said the Doctor—"with my compliments. I have
an appointment at my house—a very important one which I may not break.
Tell Luke to make a speech. Come along, Stubbins, this way."

"Oh Lord!" he muttered as we got out into the open air and found another
crowd waiting for him at the side door. "Let's go up that alleyway—to
the left. Quick!—Run!"

We took to our heels, darted through a couple of side streets and just
managed to get away from the crowd.

It was not till we had gained the Oxenthorpe Road that we dared to
slow down to a walk and take our breath. And even when we reached the
Doctor's gate and turned to look backwards towards the town, the faint
murmur of many voices still reached us on the evening wind.

"They're still clamoring for you," I said. "Listen!"

The murmur suddenly swelled up into a low distant roar; and although it
was a mile and half away you could distinctly hear the words,

"Three cheers for Luke the Hermit: Hooray!—Three cheers for his dog:
Hooray!—Three cheers for his wife: Hooray!—Three cheers for the
Doctor: Hooray! Hooray! HOO-R-A-Y!"

POLYNESIA was waiting for us in the front porch. She looked full of some
important news.

"Doctor," said she, "the Purple Bird-of-Paradise has arrived!"

"At last!" said the Doctor. "I had begun to fear some accident had
befallen her. And how is Miranda?"

From the excited way in which the Doctor fumbled his key into the lock I
guessed that we were not going to get our tea right away, even now.

"Oh, she seemed all right when she arrived," said Polynesia—"tired
from her long journey of course but otherwise all right. But what DO you
think? That mischief-making sparrow, Cheapside, insulted her as soon as
she came into the garden. When I arrived on the scene she was in
tears and was all for turning round and going straight back to Brazil
to-night. I had the hardest work persuading her to wait till you came.
She's in the study. I shut Cheapside in one of your book-cases and told
him I'd tell you exactly what had happened the moment you got home."

The Doctor frowned, then walked silently and quickly to the study.

Here we found the candles lit; for the daylight was nearly gone. Dab-Dab
was standing on the floor mounting guard over one of the glass-fronted
book-cases in which Cheapside had been imprisoned. The noisy little
sparrow was still fluttering angrily behind the glass when we came in.

In the centre of the big table, perched on the ink-stand, stood the most
beautiful bird I have ever seen. She had a deep violet-colored
breast, scarlet wings and a long, long sweeping tail of gold. She was
unimaginably beautiful but looked dreadfully tired. Already she had her
head under her wing; and she swayed gently from side to side on top of
the ink-stand like a bird that has flown long and far.

"Sh!" said Dab-Dab. "Miranda is asleep. I've got this little imp
Cheapside in here. Listen, Doctor: for Heaven's sake send that sparrow
away before he does any more mischief. He's nothing but a vulgar little
nuisance. We've had a perfectly awful time trying to get Miranda to
stay. Shall I serve your tea in here, or will you come into the kitchen
when you're ready?"

"We'll come into the kitchen, Dab-Dab," said the Doctor. "Let Cheapside
out before you go, please."

Dab-Dab opened the bookcase-door and Cheapside strutted out trying hard
not to look guilty.

"Cheapside," said the Doctor sternly, "what did you say to Miranda when
she arrived?"

"I didn't say nothing, Doc, straight I didn't. That is, nothing much. I
was picking up crumbs off the gravel path when she comes swanking into
the garden, turning up her nose in all directions, as though she owned
the earth—just because she's got a lot of colored plumage. A London
sparrow's as good as her any day. I don't hold by these gawdy bedizened
foreigners nohow. Why don't they stay in their own country?"

"But what did you say to her that got her so offended?"

"All I said was, 'You don't belong in an English garden; you ought to be
in a milliner's window. That's all."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Cheapside. Don't you realize that
this bird has come thousands of miles to see me—only to be insulted by
your impertinent tongue as soon as she reaches my garden? What do you
mean by it?—If she had gone away again before I got back to-night I
would never have forgiven you—Leave the room."

Sheepishly, but still trying to look as though he didn't care, Cheapside
hopped out into the passage and Dab-Dab closed the door.

The Doctor went up to the beautiful bird on the ink-stand and gently
stroked its back. Instantly its head popped out from under its wing.

"WELL, Miranda," said the Doctor. "I'm terribly sorry this has happened.
But you mustn't mind Cheapside; he doesn't know any better. He's a city
bird; and all his life he has had to squabble for a living. You must
make allowances. He doesn't know any better."