The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (8 page)

"What will you turn to now?" I asked.

"Well, I rather thought of going on a voyage, Stubbins. It's quite a
time now since I've been away. And there is a great deal of work waiting
for me abroad."

"When shall we start?" I asked.

"Well, first I shall have to wait till the Purple Bird-of-Paradise gets
here. I must see if she has any message for me from Long Arrow. She's
late. She should have been here ten days ago. I hope to goodness she's
all right."

"Well, hadn't we better be seeing about getting a boat?" I said. "She is
sure to be here in a day or so; and there will be lots of things to do
to get ready in the mean time, won't there?"

"Yes, indeed," said the Doctor. "Suppose we go down and see your friend
Joe, the mussel-man. He will know about boats."

"I'd like to come too," said Jip.

"All right, come along," said the Doctor, and off we went.

Joe said yes, he had a boat—one he had just bought—but it needed three
people to sail her. We told him we would like to see it anyway.

So the mussel-man took us off a little way down the river and showed
us the neatest, prettiest, little vessel that ever was built. She was
called The Curlew. Joe said he would sell her to us cheap. But the
trouble was that the boat needed three people, while we were only two.

"Of course I shall be taking Chee-Chee," said the Doctor. "But although
he is very quick and clever, he is not as strong as a man. We really
ought to have another person to sail a boat as big as that."

"I know of a good sailor, Doctor," said Joe—"a first-class seaman who
would be glad of the job."

"No, thank you, Joe," said Doctor Dolittle. "I don't want any seamen.
I couldn't afford to hire them. And then they hamper me so, seamen do,
when I'm at sea. They're always wanting to do things the proper way; and
I like to do them my way—Now let me see: who could we take with us?"

"There's Matthew Mugg, the cat's-meat-man," I said.

"No, he wouldn't do. Matthew's a very nice fellow, but he talks too
much—mostly about his rheumatism. You have to be frightfully particular
whom you take with you on long voyages."

"How about Luke the Hermit?" I asked.

"That's a good idea—splendid—if he'll come. Let's go and ask him right
away."

THE Hermit was an old friend of ours, as I have already told you. He was
a very peculiar person. Far out on the marshes he lived in a little bit
of a shack—all alone except for his brindle bulldog. No one knew where
he came from—not even his name, just "Luke the Hermit" folks called
him. He never came into the town; never seemed to want to see or talk
to people. His dog, Bob, drove them away if they came near his hut.
When you asked anyone in Puddleby who he was or why he lived out in
that lonely place by himself, the only answer you got was, "Oh, Luke the
Hermit? Well, there's some mystery about him. Nobody knows what it is.
But there's a mystery. Don't go near him. He'll set the dog on you."

Nevertheless there were two people who often went out to that little
shack on the fens: the Doctor and myself. And Bob, the bulldog, never
barked when he heard us coming. For we liked Luke; and Luke liked us.

This afternoon, crossing the marshes we faced a cold wind blowing from
the East. As we approached the hut Jip put up his ears and said,

"That's funny!"

"What's funny?" asked the Doctor.

"That Bob hasn't come out to meet us. He should have heard us long
ago—or smelt us. What's that queer noise?"

"Sounds to me like a gate creaking," said the Doctor. "Maybe it's Luke's
door, only we can't see the door from here; it's on the far side of the
shack."

"I hope Bob isn't sick," said Jip; and he let out a bark to see if that
would call him. But the only answer he got was the wailing of the wind
across the wide, salt fen.

We hurried forward, all three of us thinking hard.

When we reached the front of the shack we found the door open, swinging
and creaking dismally in the wind. We looked inside. There was no one
there.

"Isn't Luke at home then?" said I. "Perhaps he's out for a walk."

"He is ALWAYS at home," said the Doctor frowning in a peculiar sort of
way. "And even if he were out for a. walk he wouldn't leave his
door banging in the wind behind him. There is something queer about
this—What are you doing in there, Jip?"

"Nothing much—nothing worth speaking of," said Jip examining the floor
of the hut extremely carefully.

"Come here, Jip," said the Doctor in a stern voice. "You are hiding
something from me. You see signs and you know something—or you guess
it. What has happened? Tell me. Where is the Hermit?"

"I don't know," said Jip looking very guilty and uncomfortable. "I don't
know where he is."

"Well, you know something. I can tell it from the look in your eye. What
is it?"

But Jip didn't answer.

For ten minutes the Doctor kept questioning him. But not a word would
the dog say.

"Well," said the Doctor at last, "it is no use our standing around here
in the cold. The Hermit's gone. That's all. We might as well go home to
luncheon."

As we buttoned up our coats and started back across the marsh, Jip ran
ahead pretending he was looking for water-rats.

"He knows something all right," whispered the Doctor. "And I think he
knows what has happened too. It's funny, his not wanting to tell me. He
has never done that before—not in eleven years. He has always told me
everything—Strange—very strange!"

"Do you mean you think he knows all about the Hermit, the big mystery
about him which folks hint at and all that?"

"I shouldn't wonder if he did," the Doctor answered slowly. "I noticed
something in his expression the moment we found that door open and the
hut empty. And the way he sniffed the floor too—it told him something,
that floor did. He saw signs we couldn't see—I wonder why he won't tell
me. I'll try him again. Here, Jip! Jip!—Where is the dog? I thought he
went on in front."

"So did I," I said. "He was there a moment ago. I saw him as large as
life. Jip—Jip—Jip—JIP!"

But he was gone. We called and called. We even walked back to the hut.
But Jip had disappeared.

"Oh well," I said, "most likely he has just run home ahead of us. He
often does that, you know. We'll find him there when we get back to the
house."

But the Doctor just closed his coat-collar tighter against the wind and
strode on muttering, "Odd—very odd!"

WHEN we reached the house the first question the Doctor asked of Dab-Dab
in the hall was,

"Is Jip home yet?"

"No," said Dab-Dab, "I haven't seen him."

"Let me know the moment he comes in, will you, please?" said the Doctor,
hanging up his hat.

"Certainly I will," said Dab-Dab. "Don't be long over washing your
hands; the lunch is on the table."

Just as we were sitting down to luncheon in the kitchen we heard a great
racket at the front door. I ran and opened it. In bounded Jip.

"Doctor!" he cried, "come into the library quick. I've got something
to tell you—No, Dab-Dab, the luncheon must wait. Please hurry, Doctor.
There's not a moment to be lost. Don't let any of the animals come—just
you and Tommy."

"Now," he said, when we were inside the library and the door was closed,
"turn the key in the lock and make sure there's no one listening under
the windows."

"It's all right," said the Doctor. "Nobody can hear you here. Now what
is it?"

"Well, Doctor," said Jip (he was badly out of breath from running), "I
know all about the Hermit—I have known for years. But I couldn't tell
you."

"Why?" asked the Doctor.

"Because I'd promised not to tell any one. It was Bob, his dog, that
told me. And I swore to him that I would keep the secret."

"Well, and are you going to tell me now?"

"Yes," said Jip, "we've got to save him. I followed Bob's scent just now
when I left you out there on the marshes. And I found him. And I said to
him, 'Is it all right,' I said, 'for me to tell the Doctor now? Maybe he
can do something.' And Bob says to me, 'Yes,' says he, 'it's all right
because—'"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, go on, go on!" cried the Doctor. "Tell us what
the mystery is—not what you said to Bob and what Bob said to you. What
has happened? Where IS the Hermit?"

"He's in Puddleby Jail," said Jip. "He's in prison."

"In prison!"

"Yes."

"What for?—What's he done?"

Jip went over to the door and smelt at the bottom of it to see if any
one were listening outside. Then he came back to the Doctor on tiptoe
and whispered,

"HE KILLED A MAN!"

"Lord preserve us!" cried the Doctor, sitting down heavily in a chair
and mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. "When did he do it?"

"Fifteen years ago—in a Mexican gold-mine. That's why he has been a
hermit ever since. He shaved off his beard and kept away from people
out there on the marshes so he wouldn't be recognized. But last week, it
seems these new-fangled policemen came to Town; and they heard there was
a strange man who kept to himself all alone in a shack on the fen. And
they got suspicious. For a long time people had been hunting all over
the world for the man that did that killing in the Mexican gold-mine
fifteen years ago. So these policemen went out to the shack, and they
recognized Luke by a mole on his arm. And they took him to prison."

"Well, well!" murmured the Doctor. "Who would have thought it?—Luke,
the philosopher!—Killed a man!—I can hardly believe it."

"It's true enough—unfortunately," said Jip. "Luke did it. But it wasn't
his fault. Bob says so. And he was there and saw it all. He was scarcely
more than a puppy at the time. Bob says Luke couldn't help it. He HAD to
do it."

"Where is Bob now?" asked the Doctor.

"Down at the prison. I wanted him to come with me here to see you; but
he won't leave the prison while Luke is there. He just sits outside the
door of the prison-cell and won't move. He doesn't even eat the food
they give him. Won't you please come down there, Doctor, and see if
there is anything you can do? The trial is to be this afternoon at two
o'clock. What time is it now?"

"It's ten minutes past one."

"Bob says he thinks they are going to kill Luke for a punishment if they
can prove that he did it—or certainly keep him in prison for the rest
of his life. Won't you please come? Perhaps if you spoke to the judge
and told him what a good man Luke really is they'd let him off."

"Of course I'll come," said the Doctor getting up and moving to go. "But
I'm very much afraid that I shan't be of any real help." He turned at
the door and hesitated thoughtfully.

"And yet—I wonder—"

Then he opened the door and passed out with Jip and me close at his
heels.

DAB-DAB was terribly upset when she found we were going away again
without luncheon; and she made us take some cold pork-pies in our
pockets to eat on the way.

When we got to Puddleby Court-house (it was next door to the prison), we
found a great crowd gathered around the building.

This was the week of the Assizes—a business which happened every three
months, when many pick-pockets and other bad characters were tried by
a very grand judge who came all the way from London. And anybody in
Puddleby who had nothing special to do used to come to the Court-house
to hear the trials.

But to-day it was different. The crowd was not made up of just a few
idle people. It was enormous. The news had run through the countryside
that Luke the Hermit was to be tried for killing a man and that the
great mystery which had hung over him so long was to be cleared up
at last. The butcher and the baker had closed their shops and taken a
holiday. All the farmers from round about, and all the townsfolk,
were there with their Sunday clothes on, trying to get seats in the
Court-house or gossipping outside in low whispers. The High Street was
so crowded you could hardly move along it. I had never seen the quiet
old town in such a state of excitement before. For Puddleby had not had
such an Assizes since 1799, when Ferdinand Phipps, the Rector's oldest
son, had robbed the bank.

If I hadn't had the Doctor with me I am sure I would never have been
able to make my way through the mob packed around the Court-house door.
But I just followed behind him, hanging on to his coat-tails; and at
last we got safely into the jail.

"I want to see Luke," said the Doctor to a very grand person in a blue
coat with brass buttons standing at the door.

"Ask at the Superintendent's office," said the man. "Third door on the
left down the corridor."

"Who is that person you spoke to, Doctor?" I asked as we went along the
passage.

"He is a policeman."

"And what are policemen?"

"Policemen? They are to keep people in order. They've just been
invented—by Sir Robert Peel. That's why they are also called 'peelers'
sometimes. It is a wonderful age we live in. They're always thinking of
something new—This will be the Superintendent's office, I suppose."

From there another policeman was sent with us to show us the way.

Outside the door of Luke's cell we found Bob, the bulldog, who wagged
his tail sadly when he saw us. The man who was guiding us took a large
bunch of keys from his pocket and opened the door.

I had never been inside a real prison-cell before; and I felt quite
a thrill when the policeman went out and locked the door after him,
leaving us shut in the dimly-lighted, little, stone room. Before he
went, he said that as soon as we had done talking with our friend we
should knock upon the door and he would come and let us out.