The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (11 page)

Miranda stretched her gorgeous wings wearily. Now that I saw her awake
and moving I noticed what a superior, well-bred manner she had. There
were tears in her eyes and her beak was trembling.

"I wouldn't have minded so much," she said in a high silvery voice,
"if I hadn't been so dreadfully worn out—That and something else," she
added beneath her breath.

"Did you have a hard time getting here?" asked the Doctor.

"The worst passage I ever made," said Miranda. "The weather—Well there.
What's the use? I'm here anyway."

"Tell me," said the Doctor as though he had been impatiently waiting to
say something for a long time: "what did Long Arrow say when you gave
him my message?"

The Purple Bird-of-Paradise hung her head.

"That's the worst part of it," she said. "I might almost as well have
not come at all. I wasn't able to deliver your message. I couldn't find
him. LONG ARROW, THE SON OF GOLDEN ARROW, HAS DISAPPEARED!"

"Disappeared!" cried the Doctor. "Why, what's become of him?"

"Nobody knows," Miranda answered. "He had often disappeared before, as I
have told you—so that the Indians didn't know where he was. But it's a
mighty hard thing to hide away from the birds. I had always been able to
find some owl or martin who could tell me where he was—if I wanted
to know. But not this time. That's why I'm nearly a fortnight late in
coming to you: I kept hunting and hunting, asking everywhere. I went
over the whole length and breadth of South America. But there wasn't a
living thing could tell me where he was."

There was a sad silence in the room after she had finished; the Doctor
was frowning in a peculiar sort of way and Polynesia scratched her head.

"Did you ask the black parrots?" asked Polynesia. "They usually know
everything."

"Certainly I did," said Miranda. "And I was so upset at not being
able to find out anything, that I forgot all about observing the
weather-signs before I started my flight here. I didn't even bother to
break my journey at the Azores, but cut right across, making for the
Straits of Gibraltar—as though it were June or July. And of course I
ran into a perfectly frightful storm in mid-Atlantic. I really thought
I'd never come through it. Luckily I found a piece of a wrecked vessel
floating in the sea after the storm had partly died down; and I roosted
on it and took some sleep. If I hadn't been able to take that rest I
wouldn't be here to tell the tale."

"Poor Miranda! What a time you must have had!" said the Doctor. "But
tell me, were you able to find out whereabouts Long Arrow was last
seen?"

"Yes. A young albatross told me he had seen him on Spidermonkey Island?"

"Spidermonkey Island? That's somewhere off the coast of Brazil, isn't
it?"

"Yes, that's it. Of course I flew there right away and asked every bird
on the island—and it is a big island, a hundred miles long. It seems
that Long Arrow was visiting some peculiar Indians that live there; and
that when last seen he was going up into the mountains looking for rare
medicine-plants. I got that from a tame hawk, a pet, which the Chief of
the Indians keeps for hunting partridges with. I nearly got caught and
put in a cage for my pains too. That's the worst of having beautiful
feathers: it's as much as your life is worth to go near most
humans—They say, 'oh how pretty!' and shoot an arrow or a bullet into
you. You and Long Arrow were the only two men that I would ever trust
myself near—out of all the people in the world."

"But was he never known to have returned from the mountains?"

"No. That was the last that was seen or heard of him. I questioned the
sea-birds around the shores to find out if he had left the island in a
canoe. But they could tell me nothing."

"Do you think that some accident has happened to him?" asked the Doctor
in a fearful voice.

"I'm afraid it must have," said Miranda shaking her head.

"Well," said John Dolittle slowly, "if I could never meet Long Arrow
face to face it would be the greatest disappointment in my whole life.
Not only that, but it would be a great loss to the knowledge of the
human race. For, from what you have told me of him, he knew more natural
science than all the rest of us put together; and if he has gone without
any one to write it down for him, so the world may be the better for
it, it would be a terrible thing. But you don't really think that he is
dead, do you?"

"What else can I think?" asked Miranda, bursting into tears, "when for
six whole months he has not been seen by flesh, fish or fowl."

THIS news about Long Arrow made us all very sad. And I could see from
the silent dreamy way the Doctor took his tea that he was dreadfully
upset. Every once in a while he would stop eating altogether and sit
staring at the spots on the kitchen table-cloth as though his thoughts
were far away; till Dab-Dab, who was watching to see that he got a good
meal, would cough or rattle the pots in the sink.

I did my best to cheer him up by reminding him of all he had done for
Luke and his wife that afternoon. And when that didn't seem to work, I
went on talking about our preparations for the voyage.

"But you see, Stubbins," said he as we rose from the table and Dab-Dab
and Chee-Chee began to clear away, "I don't know where to go now. I feel
sort of lost since Miranda brought me this news. On this voyage I had
planned going to see Long Arrow. I had been looking forward to it for
a whole year. I felt he might help me in learning the language of the
shellfish—and perhaps in finding some way of getting to the bottom of
the sea. But now?—He's gone! And all his great knowledge has gone with
him."

Then he seemed to fall a-dreaming again.

"Just to think of it!" he murmured. "Long Arrow and I, two
students—Although I'd never met him, I felt as though I knew him quite
well. For, in his way—without any schooling—he has, all his life, been
trying to do the very things which I have tried to do in mine—And now
he's gone!—A whole world lay between us—And only a bird knew us both!"

We went back into the study, where Jip brought the Doctor his slippers
and his pipe. And after the pipe was lit and the smoke began to fill the
room the old man seemed to cheer up a little.

"But you will go on some voyage, Doctor, won't you?" I asked—"even if
you can't go to find Long Arrow."

He looked up sharply into my face; and I suppose he saw how anxious I
was. Because he suddenly smiled his old, boyish smile and said,

"Yes, Stubbins. Don't worry. We'll go. We mustn't stop working and
learning, even if poor Long Arrow has disappeared—But where to go:
that's the question. Where shall we go?"

There were so many places that I wanted to go that I couldn't make up
my mind right away. And while I was still thinking, the Doctor sat up in
his chair and said,

"I tell you what we'll do, Stubbins: it's a game I used to play when I
was young—before Sarah came to live with me. I used to call it Blind
Travel. Whenever I wanted to go on a voyage, and I couldn't make up my
mind where to go, I would take the atlas and open it with my eyes shut.
Next, I'd wave a pencil, still without looking, and stick it down on
whatever page had fallen open. Then I'd open my eyes and look. It's a
very exciting game, is Blind Travel. Because you have to swear, before
you begin, that you will go to the place the pencil touches, come what
way. Shall we play it?"

"Oh, let's!" I almost yelled. "How thrilling! I hope it's China—or
Borneo—or Bagdad."

And in a moment I had scrambled up the bookcase, dragged the big atlas
from the top shelf and laid it on the table before the Doctor.

I knew every page in that atlas by heart. How many days and nights I
had lingered over its old faded maps, following the blue rivers from
the mountains to the sea; wondering what the little towns really looked
like, and how wide were the sprawling lakes! I had had a lot of fun with
that atlas, traveling, in my mind, all over the world. I can see it
now: the first page had no map; it just told you that it was printed in
Edinburgh in 1808, and a whole lot more about the book. The next page
was the Solar System, showing the sun and planets, the stars and the
moon. The third page was the chart of the North and South Poles. Then
came the hemispheres, the oceans, the continents and the countries.

As the Doctor began sharpening his pencil a thought came to me.

"What if the pencil falls upon the North Pole," I asked, "will we have
to go there?"

"No. The rules of the game say you don't have to go any place you've
been to before. You are allowed another try. I've been to the North
Pole," he ended quietly, "so we shan't have to go there." I could hardly
speak with astonishment.

"YOU'VE BEEN TO THE NORTH POLE!" I managed to gasp out at last. "But
I thought it was still undiscovered. The map shows all the places
explorers have reached to, TRYING to get there. Why isn't your name down
if you discovered it?"

"I promised to keep it a secret. And you must promise me never to tell
any one. Yes, I discovered the North Pole in April, 1809. But shortly
after I got there the polar bears came to me in a body and told me there
was a great deal of coal there, buried beneath the snow. They knew, they
said, that human beings would do anything, and go anywhere, to get coal.
So would I please keep it a secret. Because once people began coming
up there to start coal-mines, their beautiful white country would be
spoiled—and there was nowhere else in the world cold enough for polar
bears to be comfortable. So of course I had to promise them I would. Ah,
well, it will be discovered again some day, by somebody else. But I
want the polar bears to have their play-ground to themselves as long as
possible. And I daresay it will be a good while yet—for it certainly
is a fiendish place to get to—Well now, are we ready?—Good! Take the
pencil and stand here close to the table. When the book falls open, wave
the pencil round three times and jab it down. Ready?—All right. Shut
your eyes."

It was a tense and fearful moment—but very thrilling. We both had our
eyes shut tight. I heard the atlas fall open with a bang. I wondered
what page it was: England or Asia. If it should be the map of Asia, so
much would depend on where that pencil would land. I waved three times
in a circle. I began to lower my hand. The pencil-point touched the
page.

"All right," I called out, "it's done."

WE both opened our eyes; then bumped our heads together with a crack in
our eagerness to lean over and see where we were to go.

The atlas lay open at a map called, Chart of the South Atlantic Ocean.
My pencil-point was resting right in the center of a tiny island. The
name of it was printed so small that the Doctor had to get out his
strong spectacles to read it. I was trembling with excitement.

"Spidermonkey Island," he read out slowly. Then he whistled softly
beneath his breath. "Of all the extraordinary things! You've hit upon
the very island where Long Arrow was last seen on earth—I wonder—Well,
well! How very singular!"

"We'll go there, Doctor, won't we?" I asked.

"Of course we will. The rules of the game say we've got to."

"I'm so glad it wasn't Oxenthorpe or Bristol," I said. "It'll be a grand
voyage, this. Look at all the sea we've got to cross. Will it take us
long?"

"Oh, no," said the Doctor—"not very. With a good boat and a good wind
we should make it easily in four weeks. But isn't it extraordinary? Of
all the places in the world you picked out that one with your eyes shut.
Spidermonkey Island after all!—Well, there's one good thing about it: I
shall be able to get some Jabizri beetles."

"What are Jabizri beetles?"

"They are a very rare kind of beetles with peculiar habits. I want to
study them. There are only three countries in the world where they are
to be found. Spidermonkey Island is one of them. But even there they are
very scarce."

"What is this little question-mark after the name of the island for?" I
asked, pointing to the map.

"That means that the island's position in the ocean is not known very
exactly—that it is somewhere ABOUT there. Ships have probably seen it
in that neighborhood, that is all, most likely. It is quite possible we
shall be the first white men to land there. But I daresay we shall have
some difficulty in finding it first."

How like a dream it all sounded! The two of us sitting there at the big
study-table; the candles lit; the smoke curling towards the dim ceiling
from the Doctor's pipe—the two of us sitting there, talking about
finding an island in the ocean and being the first white men to land
upon it!

"I'll bet it will be a great voyage," I said. "It looks a lovely island
on the map. Will there be black men there?"

"No. A peculiar tribe of Red Indians lives on it, Miranda tells me."

At this point the poor Bird-of-Paradise stirred and woke up. In our
excitement we had forgotten to speak low.

"We are going to Spidermonkey Island, Miranda," said the Doctor. "You
know where it is, do you not?"

"I know where it was the last time I saw it," said the bird. "But
whether it will be there still, I can't say."

"What do you mean?" asked the Doctor. "It is always in the same place
surely?"

"Not by any means," said Miranda. "Why, didn't you know?—Spidermonkey
Island is a FLOATING island. It moves around all over the place—usually
somewhere near southern South America. But of course I could surely find
it for you if you want to go there."

At this fresh piece of news I could contain myself no longer. I was
bursting to tell some one. I ran dancing and singing from the room to
find Chee-Chee.

At the door I tripped over Dab-Dab, who was just coming in with her
wings full of plates, and fell headlong on my nose,