The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (27 page)

"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 a way 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."

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."