The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (29 page)

He took his old hat from Bumpo; then facing Long Arrow, gripped his
outstretched hand in silence.

"You decide aright, oh Kindly One," said the Indian—"though none
will miss and mourn you more than Long Arrow, the son of Golden
Arrow—Farewell, and may good fortune ever lead you by the hand!"

It was the first and only time I ever saw the Doctor weep. Without a
word to any of us, he turned and moved down the beach into the shallow
water of the sea.

The snail humped up its back and made an opening between its shoulders
and the edge of its shell. The Doctor clambered up and passed within. We
followed him, after handing up the baggage. The opening shut tight with
a whistling suction noise.

Then turning in the direction of the East, the great creature began
moving smoothly forward, down the slope into the deeper waters.

Just as the swirling dark green surf was closing in above our heads,
the big morning sun popped his rim up over the edge of the ocean. And
through our transparent walls of pearl we saw the watery world about
us suddenly light up with that most wondrously colorful of visions, a
daybreak beneath the sea.

The rest of the story of our homeward voyage is soon told.

Our new quarters we found very satisfactory. Inside the spacious shell,
the snail's wide back was extremely comfortable to sit and lounge
on—better than a sofa, when you once got accustomed to the damp and
clammy feeling of it. He asked us, shortly after we started, if we
wouldn't mind taking off our boots, as the hobnails in them hurt his
back as we ran excitedly from one side to another to see the different
sights.

The motion was not unpleasant, very smooth and even; in fact, but for
the landscape passing outside, you would not know, on the level going,
that you were moving at all.

I had always thought for some reason or other that the bottom of the
sea was flat. I found that it was just as irregular and changeful as
the surface of the dry land. We climbed over great mountain-ranges, with
peaks towering above peaks. We threaded our way through dense forests
of tall sea-plants. We crossed wide empty stretches of sandy mud, like
deserts—so vast that you went on for a whole day with nothing ahead
of you but a dim horizon. Sometimes the scene was moss-covered, rolling
country, green and restful to the eye like rich pastures; so that you
almost looked to see sheep cropping on these underwater downs. And
sometimes the snail would roll us forward inside him like peas, when he
suddenly dipped downward to descend into some deep secluded valley with
steeply sloping sides.

In these lower levels we often came upon the shadowy shapes of dead
ships, wrecked and sunk Heaven only knows how many years ago; and
passing them we would speak in hushed whispers like children seeing
monuments in churches.

Here too, in the deeper, darker waters, monstrous fishes, feeding
quietly in caves and hollows would suddenly spring up, alarmed at our
approach, and flash away into the gloom with the speed of an arrow.
While other bolder ones, all sorts of unearthly shapes and colors, would
come right up and peer in at us through the shell.

"I suppose they think we are a sort of sanaquarium," said Bumpo—"I'd
hate to be a fish."

It was a thrilling and ever-changing show. The Doctor wrote or sketched
incessantly. Before long we had filled all the blank note-books we had
left. Then we searched our pockets for any odd scraps of paper on which
to jot down still more observations. We even went through the used books
a second time, writing in between the lines, scribbling all over the
covers, back and front.

Our greatest difficulty was getting enough light to see by. In the lower
waters it was very dim. On the third day we passed a band of fire-eels,
a sort of large, marine glow-worm; and the Doctor asked the snail to get
them to come with us for a way. This they did, swimming alongside; and
their light was very helpful, though not brilliant.

How our giant shellfish found his way across that vast and gloomy world
was a great puzzle to us. John Dolittle asked him by what means he
navigated—how he knew he was on the right road to Puddleby River. And
what the snail said in reply got the Doctor so excited, that having no
paper left, he tore out the lining of his precious hat and covered it
with notes.

By night of course it was impossible to see anything; and during the
hours of darkness the snail used to swim instead of crawl. When he did
so he could travel at a terrific speed, just by waggling that long tail
of his. This was the reason why we completed the trip in so short a time
five and a half days.

The air of our chamber, not having a change in the whole voyage, got
very close and stuffy; and for the first two days we all had headaches.
But after that we got used to it and didn't mind it in the least.

Early in the afternoon of the sixth day, we noticed we were climbing
a long gentle slope. As we went upward it grew lighter. Finally we saw
that the snail had crawled right out of the water altogether and had now
come to a dead stop on a long strip of gray sand.

Behind us we saw the surface of the sea rippled by the wind. On our left
was the mouth of a river with the tide running out. While in front, the
low flat land stretched away into the mist—which prevented one from
seeing very far in any direction. A pair of wild ducks with craning
necks and whirring wings passed over us and disappeared like shadows,
seaward.

As a landscape, it was a great change from the hot brilliant sunshine of
Popsipetel.

With the same whistling suction sound, the snail made the opening for us
to crawl out by. As we stepped down upon the marshy land we noticed that
a fine, drizzling autumn rain was falling.

"Can this be Merrie England?" asked Bumpo, peering into the
fog—"doesn't look like any place in particular. Maybe the snail hasn't
brought us right after all."

"Yes," sighed Polynesia, shaking the rain oft her feathers, "this is
England all right—You can tell it by the beastly climate."

"Oh, but fellows," cried Jip, as he sniffed up the air in great gulps,
"it has a SMELL—a good and glorious smell!—Excuse me a minute: I see a
water-rat."

"Sh!—Listen!" said Chee-Chee through teeth that chattered with the
cold. "There's Puddleby church-clock striking four. Why don't we divide
up the baggage and get moving. We've got a long way to foot it home
across the marshes."

"Let's hope," I put in, "that Dab-Dab has a nice fire burning in the
kitchen."

"I'm sure she will," said the Doctor as he picked out his old handbag
from among the bundles—"With this wind from the East she'll need it to
keep the animals in the house warm. Come on. Let's hug the river-bank
so we don't miss our way in the fog. You know, there's something rather
attractive in the bad weather of England—when you've got a kitchen-fire
to look forward to.... Four o'clock! Come along—we'll just be in nice
time for tea."