 Part five, chapters one to four, are the voyages of Dr. Newlittle by Hugh Lofty. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter one. A great moment. The next part of our problem was the hardest of all. How to roll aside, pull down, or break down the gigantic slag. As we gazed up at it, towering above our heads, it looked indeed a hopeless task for our tiny strength. But the sounds of life from inside the mountain had put new heart in us. And in a moment we were all scrambling about trying to find any opening or crevice which would give us something to work on. Gigi scaled up the sheer wall of the slab and examined the top of it where it leaned against the mountain side. I uprooted bushes and stripped off hanging creepers that might conceal a weak place. The doctor got more leaves and composed new picture letters for the gibrizy to take in if he should turn up again, whilst Polynesia carried up a handful of nuts and pushed them into the Cretals' hole, one by one, for the prisoners inside to eat. Not so so nourishing, she said, but Gippet was, who scratching at the foot of the slab like a good ratter, made the discovery which led to our final success. Doctor! He cried running up to John Doolittle with his nose all covered with black mud. This slab is resting on nothing but a bit of soft earth. You never saw such easy digging. I guess the cave behind must be just too high up for the Indians to reach the earth with their hands, or they could have scraped away out long ago. If we can only scratch the earth bed away from under, the slab might drop a little. Then maybe the Indians can climb out over the top. The doctor hurried to examine the place where Gippet dug. Why, yes, he said. If we can get the earth away from under this frontage, the slab is standing up so straight, we might even make it fall right down in this direction. It's well worth trying. Let's get at it quick! We had no tools but the sticks and slivers of stone which we could find around. A strange sight we must have looked at the whole crew of us squatting down on our heels, scratching and burrowing at the foot of the mountain like six badgers in a row. After about an hour, during which, in spite of the cold, the sweat fell from our foreheads in all directions, the doctor said, Be ready to jump from under. Clear out of the way. If she shows signs of moving, if this slab falls on anybody, it will squash him flatter than a pancake. Presently, there was a grating, grinding sound. Look out! Yell, John, do little. Here she comes! Scatter! We ran for our lives, outwards towards the sides. The big rocks slid gently down about a foot into the trough which we had made beneath it. For a moment I was disappointed, for like that it was as hopeless as before. No signs of a cave mouth showing above it. But as I looked upward, I saw the top coming very slowly away from the mountain side. We had unbalanced it below. As it moved apart from the face of the mountain, sounds of human voices crying gladly in a strange tongue, issued from behind. Faster and faster the top swung forward, downward, then with a roaring crash which shook the whole mountain range beneath our feet, it struck the earth and cracked in halves. How can I describe to anyone that first meeting between the two greatest naturalists the world ever knew? Long arrow, the son of Golden Arrow and John, do little md, a puddle be on the marsh. The scene rises before me now, plain and clear in every detail, though it took place so many many years ago. But when I come to write of it, words seem such poor things with which to tell you of that great occasion. I know that the doctor whose life was surely full enough of big happenings always counted the setting free of the Indian scientist as the greatest thing he ever did. For my part, knowing how much this meeting must mean to him, I was on pins and needles of expectation and curiosity, as the great stone finally thundered down at our feet and we gazed across it to see what lay behind. The gloomy black mouth of a tunnel, full twenty feet high, was revealed. In the center of this opening stood an enormous red Indian, seven feet tall, handsome, muscular, slim and naked but for a beaded cloth around his middle and an eagle's feather in his hair. He held one hand across his face to shield his eyes from the blinding sun, which he had not seen in many days. It is he! I heard the doctor whisper at my elbow. I know him by his great height and the scar upon his chin. And he stepped forward slowly across the fallen stone with his hand outstretched to the red man. Presently the Indian uncovered his eyes, and I saw that they had a curious piercing gleam in them, like the eyes of an eagle, but kinder and more gentle. He slowly raised his right arm, the rest of him still, emotionless, like a statue, and took the doctor's hand in his. It was a great moment. Polynesia nodded to me in a knowing, satisfied kind of way. And I heard old bumple sniffle sentimentally. Then the doctor tried to speak to Long Arrow, but the Indian knew no English, of course, and the doctor knew no Indian. To me, to my surprise, I heard the doctor trying him in different animal languages. How do you do? He said in dog-talk. I am glad to see you. In horse-size. How long have you been buried? In deer-language. Still the Indian made no move, but stood there, straight and stiff, understanding not a word. The doctor tried again in several other animal dialects, but with no result. Till at last he came to the language of evils. Great red skin! He said in the fierce screams and short grunts that the big birds use. Never have I been so glad in all my life as I am today to find you still alive! In a flash Long Arrow's stony face lit up with a smile of understanding, and back came the answer in eagle-tongue. Mighty white man, I owe my life to you. For the remainder of my days I am your servant to command. Afterwards Long Arrow told us that this was the only bird or animal language he had ever been able to learn, but that he had not spoken it in a long time, for no eagles ever came to this island. Then the doctor signaled to Bumpo, who came forward with the nuts and water, but Long Arrow neither ate nor drank. Taking the supplies with a nod of thanks he turned and carried them into the inner dimness of the cave. We followed him. Inside we found nine other Indians, men, women and boys, lying on the rock floor in a dreadful state of thinness and exhaustion. Some had their eyes closed as if dead. Quickly the doctor went round them all and listened to their hearts. They were all alive, but one woman was too weak even to stand upon her feet. At a word from the doctor, Chichi and Polynesia sped off into the jungles after more fruit and water. While Long Arrow was handing round what food we had to his starving friends, we suddenly heard a sound outside the cave. Turning about we saw, clustered at the entrance, a band of Indians who had met us so inhospitably at the beach. They peered into the dark cave cautiously at first, but as soon as they saw Long Arrow and the other Indians with us, they came rushing in, laughing, clapping their hands with joy and jabbering away at a tremendous rate. Long Arrow explained to the doctor that the nine Indians we had found in the cave with him were two families who had accompanied him into the mountains to help him gather medicine plants. And while they had been searching for a kind of moss, good for indigestion, which grows only inside of damp caves, the great rock slab had slid down and shut them in. Then for two weeks they had lived on the medicine moss and such fresh water as could be found dripping from the damp walls of the cave. The other Indians on the island had given them up for lost and mourned them as dead, and they were now very surprised and happy to find their relatives alive. When Long Arrow turned to the newcomers and told them in their own language that it was the white man who had found and freed their relatives, they gathered round John Doodle, all talking at once and beating their breasts. Long Arrow said they were apologizing and trying to tell the doctor how sorry they were that they had seemed unfriendly to him at the beach. They had never seen a white man before and had really been afraid of him, especially when they saw him conversing with the purposes. They had thought he was the devil, they said. Then they went outside and looked at the great stone we had thrown down, big as a metal, and they walked round and rounded, pointing to the break running through the middle and wondering how the trick of felling it was done. Visitors who have since visited Spider Monkey Island tell me that that huge stone slab is now one of the regular sites of the island, and that the Indian guides, when showing it to visitors, always tell their story of how it came there. They say that when the doctor found that the rocks had entrapped his friend Long Arrow, he was so angry that he ripped the mountain in halves with his bare hands and let him out. Chapter 2 The Men of the Moving Land From that time on the Indians' treatment of us was very different. We were invited to their village for a feast to celebrate the recovery of the lost families. And after we had made a lizard from saplings to carry the sick woman in, we all started off down the mountain. On the way the Indians told Long Arrow something which appeared to be sad news. For on hearing it, his face grew very gray. The doctor asked him what was wrong, and Long Arrow said he had just been informed that the chief of the tribe, an old man of eighty, had died early that morning. That? Polynesia whispered in my ear. Must have been what they went back to their village for, when the messenger fetched them from the beach. Remember? What did he die of? asked the doctor. He died of cold. Said Long Arrow, indeed now that the sun was setting we were all shivering ourselves. This is a serious thing, said the doctor to me. The island is still in the grip of that wretched current flowing southward. We will have to look into this tomorrow. If nothing could be done about it, the Indians had better take to Canoes and leave the island. The chance of being wrecked will be better than getting frozen to death in the ice flows of the Antarctic. Presently we came over a saddle in the hills, and looking downward on the far side of the island we saw the village, a large cluster of grass huts and gaily colored totem poles close by the edge of the sea. How artistic, said the doctor, delightfully situated. What is the name of the village? Popsipettle, said Long Arrow. That is the name also of the tribe. The word signifies, in Indian tongue, the man of the moving land. There are two tribes of Indians on the island. The popsipettles at this end and the bagjagdurags at the other. Which is the larger of the two peoples? The bagjagdurags by far. Their city covers two square leagues, but, added Long Arrow a slight frown darkening his handsome face, for me, I would rather have one popsipettle than a hundred bagjagdurags. The news of the rescue we had made had evidently gone ahead of us. For as we drew nearer the village we saw crowds of Indians streaming out to greet the friends and relatives whom they had never thought to see again. These good people, when they too were told how the rescue had been the work of the strange white visitor, to their shores all gathered round the doctor, shook him by the hands, patted him and hugged him. Then they lifted him up upon their strong shoulders and carried him down the hill into the village. The other welcome we received was even more wonderful. In spite of the cold air of the coming night, the villagers who had all been shivering within their houses threw open their doors and came out in hundreds. I had no idea that the little village could hold so many. They thronged about us, smiling and nodding and waving their hands, and as the details of what we had done were recited by Long Arrow they kept shouting strange singing noises which we suppose were words of gratitude or praise. We were next exorted to a brand new grass house, clean and sweet smelling within, and informed that it was ours. Six strong Indian boys were told off to be our servants. On our way through the village we noticed a house larger than the rest, standing at the end of the main street. Long Arrow pointed to it and told us it was the chief's house, but that it was now empty, no new chief having yet been elected to take the place of the old one who had died. Inside our new home a feast of fish and fruit had been prepared. Most of the more important men of the tribe were already seating themselves at the long dining table when we got there. Long Arrow invited us to sit down and eat. This we were glad enough to do, as we were all hungry. But we were both surprised and disappointed when we found that the fish had not been cooked. The Indians did not seem to think this extraordinary in the least, but went ahead gobbling the fish with much relish the way it was, raw. With many apologies, the doctor explained to Long Arrow that if they had no objection, we would prefer our fish cooked. Imagine our astonishment when we found that the great Long Arrow, so learned in the natural sciences, did not know what the word cooked meant. Polynesia, who was sitting on the bench between John Doolittle myself, pulled the doctor by the sleeve. I'll tell you what's wrong, doctor. She whispered as he lent it down to listen to her. These people have no fires. They don't know how to make a fire. Look outside. It's almost dark, and there isn't a light showing in the whole village. This is a fireless people. Chapter 3. Fire. Then the doctor asked Long Arrow if he knew what fire was. Explain in it to him by pictures drawn on the buckskin tablecloth. Long Arrow said he had seen such a thing, coming out of the tops of volcanoes, but that neither he nor any of the pops of petals knew how it was made. Poor, perishing heathens. Buttered, bumpled. No wonder the old chief died of cold. At that moment we heard a crying sound at the door, and turning round we saw a weeping Indian mother with a baby in her arms. She said something to the Indians which we could not understand, and Long Arrow told us the baby was sick, and she wanted the white doctor to try and cure it. Oh, Lord. Grown Polynesia, my hair. Just like Puddlebee, patients arriving in the middle of dinner. Well, one thing. The food's raw, so nothing can get cold, anyway. The doctor examined the baby and found at once that it was thoroughly chilled. Fire. Fire! That's what it needs. He said turning to Long Arrow. That's what you all need. This child will have pneumonia if it isn't kept warm. I truly. But how to make a fire? Said Long Arrow. Where to get it? That is the difficulty. All the volcanoes in this land are dead. Then we fell to hunting through our pockets to see if any matches had survived the shipwreck. The best we could muster were two whole ones and a half, all with the heads soaked off them by soft water. Hark, Long Arrow! Said the doctor. Diverse ways there be of making fire without the aid of matches. One with a strong glass and the rays of the sun. That, however, since the sun has set, we cannot now employ. Another is by grinding a hard stick into a soft log. Is the daylight gone without? Alas, yes. Then I fear we must await the morrow, for besides the different woods, we need an old squirrel's nest for fuel. And that without lamps you could not find in your forests at this hour. Great are your cunning and your skill, O white man. Long Arrow replied. But in this you do as an injustice. Know you not that all fireless peoples can see in the dark? Having no lamps we are forced to train ourselves to travel through the blackest night, lightless. I will dispatch a messenger, and you shall have your squirrel's nest within the hour. He gave an order to two of our boy servants who promptly disappeared running, and sure enough in a very short space of time a squirrel's nest, together with hard and soft woods, was brought to our door. The moon had not yet risen, and within the house it was practically pitch black. I could feel and hear, however, that the Indians were moving about comfortably as though it were daylight. The task of making fire the doctor had to perform almost entirely by the sense of touch, asking Long Arrow and the Indians to hand him his tools when he mislaid them in the dark. And then I made a curious discovery. Now that I had to, I found that I was beginning to see a little in the dark myself. And for the first time I realized that of course there is no such thing as pitch dark, so long as you have a door open or a sky above you. Calling for the loan of a bow, the doctor loosened the string, put the hard stick into the loop, and began grinding this stick into the soft wood of the log. Soon I smelt that the log was smoking. Then he kept feeding the part that was smoking with the inside lining of the squirrel's nest, and he asked me to blow upon it with my breath. He made the stick drill faster and faster. More smoke filled the room, and at last the darkness about us was suddenly lit up. The squirrel's nest had burst into flame. The Indians murmured and grunted with astonishment. At first they were all for falling on their knees and worshiping the fire. Then they wanted to pick it up with their bare hands and play with it. We had to teach them how it was to be used, and they were quite fascinated when we laid our fish across it on sticks and cooked it. They sniffed the air with relish, as for the first time in history, the smell of fish passed through the village of the Pupsapetal. Then we got them to bring us piles and stacks of dry wood, and we made an enormous bonfire in the middle of the main street. Around this, when they felt it's warm, the whole tribe gathered and smiled and wondered. It was a striking sight. One of the pictures from our voyages that I most frequently remember, that roaring jolly blaze beneath the black night sky, and all about it a vast ring of Indians, the firelight gleaming on bronze cheeks, white teeth and flashing eyes. A whole town trying to get warm, giggling and pushing like school children. In a little when we had got them more used to the handling of fire, the doctor showed them how it could be taken into the houses if a hole were only made in the roof to let the smoke out. And before we turned in after that long, long, tiring day, we had fires going in every hut in the village. The poor people were so glad to get really warm again that we thought they'd never go to bed. Well on into the early hours of the morning, the little town fairly buzzed with a great low murmur. The Popsapetals sitting up talking of their wonderful pale-faced visitor and this great good thing he had brought with him. Fire. Chapter 4 What Makes an Island Float Very early in our experience of Popsapetal kindness, we saw that if we were to get anything done at all, we would almost always have to do it secretly. The doctor was so popular and loved by all that as soon as he showed his face at his door in the morning, crowds of admirers waiting patiently outside, flocked about him and followed him wherever he went. After his fire-making feet, this childlike people expected him, I think, to be continually doing magic. And they were determined not to miss a trick. It was only with great difficulty that we escaped from the crowd the first morning and set out with long arrow to explore the island at our leisure. In the interior, we found that not only the plants and trees were suffering from the cold, the animal life was in even worse straits. Everywhere shivering birds were to be seen. Their feathers all fluffed out, gathering together for flight to summer lands, and many lay dead upon the ground. Going down to the shore, we watched land crabs in large numbers, taking to the sea to find some better home. While away to the southeast, we could see many icebergs floating, a sign that we were now not far from the terrible region of the Antarctic. As we were looking out to sea, we noticed our friends, the porpoises, jumping through the waves. The doctor held them, and they came in shore. He asked them how far we were from the south polar continent. About a hundred miles. They told him, and then they asked why he wanted to know. Because this floating island we are on, said he, is drifting southward all the time in a current. It's an island that ordinarily belongs somewhere in the tropic zone, real sultry weather, sunstrokes and all that. If it doesn't stop going southward, pretty soon everything on it is going to perish. Well, said the porpoises. Then the thing to do is to get it back into a warmer climate, isn't it? Yes, but how? Said the doctor. We can't row it back. No, said they. But whales could push it if you only got enough of them. What a splendid idea. Whales, the very thing. Said the doctor. Do you think you could get me some? Why, certainly. Said the porpoises. The past one heard of them out there, spawning about among the icebergs. We'll ask them to come over, and if there aren't enough, we'll try and hunt up some more. Better have plenty. Thank you, said the doctor. You are very kind. By the way, do you happen to know how this island came to be a floating island? At least half of it, I notice, is made of stone. It is very odd that it floats at all, isn't it? It's unusual. They said. But the explanation is quite simple. It used to be a mountainous part of South America. An overhanging part. Sort of an awkward corner, you might say. Way back in the glacial days. Thousands of years ago. It broke off from the mainland, and by some curious accident the inside of it, which is hollow, got filled with air as it fell into the ocean. You can only see less than half of the island. The bigger half is underwater, and in the middle of it, underneath, is a huge rock air chamber. Running right up inside the mountains. And that's what keeps it floating. What a peculiar phenomenon. Said Pumple. It is indeed. Said the doctor. I must make a note of that. And out came the everlasting notebook. The porpoises were bounding out towards the icebergs, and not long after we saw the sea heaving and frothing as a big herd of whales came towards us at full speed. They certainly were enormous creatures, and there must have been a good 200 of them. Here they are. Said the porpoises poking their heads out of the water. Good, said the doctor. Now, just explain to them, will you please, that this is a very serious matter for all the living creatures in this land. And ask them if they will be so good as to go down to the fire end of the island, put their noses against it, and push it back near the coast of southern Brazil. The porpoises evidently succeeded in persuading the whales to do as the doctor asked. For presently we saw them thrashing through the seas, going off towards the south end of the island. Then we lay down upon the beach and waited. After about an hour, the doctor got up and threw a stick into the water. For a while this floated motionless, but soon we saw it begin to move gently down the coast. Ah! said the doctor. See that! The island is going north at last. Thank goodness. Faster and faster we left the stick behind. The smaller and dimmer goo the icebergs on the skyline. The doctor took out his watch, threw more sticks into the water, and made a rapid calculation. Hmm, 14 and a half knots an hour. He murmured. A very nice speed. It should take us about five days to get back near Brazil. Well, that's that. Quite a load off my mind. I declare I feel warmer already. Let's go and get something to eat. Into part five, chapter four. Part five, chapters five to seven, are the voyages of Dr. Doodlittle by Hugh Lofty. This liberal box recording is in the public domain. Chapter five, war. On our way back to the village, the doctor began discussing natural history with Longarrow. But their most interesting talk, mainly about plants, had hardly begun when an Indian runner came dashing up to us with a message. Longarrow listened greatly to the breathless, babbled words, then turned to the doctor and said in an eagle tongue, Great white man, an evil thing has befallen the popsy petals. Our neighbours to the southward, the thievish bagjagerags, who for so long have cast envious eyes on our stores of ripe corn, have gone upon the warpath and even now are advancing to attack us. Evil news indeed, said the doctor. Yet, let us not judge harshly. Perhaps it is that they are desperate for food, having their own crops frost-killed before harvest. For are they not even nearer the cold south than you? Make no excuses for any man of the tribe of the bagjagerags, said Longarrow, shaking his head. They are an idle, shiftless race. They do but see a chance to get corn without the labour of husbandry. If it were not that they are a much bigger tribe and hope to defeat their neighbour by sheer force of numbers, they would not have dared to make open war upon the brave Popsie petals. When we reached the village, we found it in a great state of excitement. Everywhere men were seen putting their bows in order, sharpening spears, grinding battle axes and making arrows by the hundred. Women were raising a high fence of bamboo poles all round the village. Scouts and messengers kept coming and going, bringing news of the movements of the enemy. While high up in the trees and hills about the village, we could see lookouts watching the mountains to the southward. Longarrow brought another ending, short but enormously broad, and introduced him to the doctor as Big Teeth, the chief warrior of the Popsie petals. The doctor volunteered to go and see the enemy and tried to argue the matter out peacefully with them instead of fighting. For war, he said, was at best a stupid wasteful business. But the two shook their heads. Such a plan was hopeless, they said. In the last war, they had sent a messenger to do peaceful arguing. The enemy had merely hit him with an axe. While the doctor was asking Big Teeth how he meant to defend the village against attack, a cry of alarm was raised by the lookouts. They're coming, the bag-jagdurags, swarming down the mountains in thousands. Well, said the doctor. It's all in the day's work, I suppose. I don't believe in war, but if the village is attacked, we must help defend it. And he picked up a club from the ground and tried the heft of it against a stone. This, he said. Seems like a pretty good tool to me. And he walked to the bamboo fence and took his place among the other waiting fighters. Then we all got hold of some kind of weapon with which to help our friends, the gallant Popsie petals. I borrowed a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Jip was content to rely upon his old, but still strong teeth. Chichi took a bag of rocks and climbed a palm where he could throw them down upon the enemy's heads. And Bumpo marched after the doctor to the fence, armed with a young tree in one hand and a doorpost in the other. When the enemy drew near enough to be seen from where we stood, we all gasped with astonishment. The hill-sides were actually covered with him, thousands upon thousands. They made our small army within the village look like a mere handful. The science alive! Muddered Polynesia! Our little Lutt will stand no chance against that swarm. This will never do. I'm going off to get some help. Where she was going and what kind of help she meant to get, I had no idea. She just disappeared from my sight. But Jip, who had hurt her, poked his nose between the bamboo bars of the fence to get a better view of the enemy and said, likely enough she's gone after the Black Parrots. Let's hope she finds them in time. Just look at those ugly refians climbing down the rocks. Millions of them. This fight's going to keep us all hopping. And Jip was right. Before a quarter of an hour had gone by, our village was completely surrounded by one huge mob of yelling, raging, bag-jagdurags. And now come again to a part of our story of the Voyages where things happened so quickly, one upon the other, that looking backwards I see the picture only in a confused kind of way. I know that if it had not been for the terrible three, as they came afterwards to be fondly called in Popsapetal history, Longyaro, Bumpo, and the Doctor, the war would have been soon over and the whole island would have belonged to the worthless bag-jagdurags. But the Englishmen, the African and the Indian were a regiment in themselves and between them they made the village a dangerous place for any man to try to enter. The bamboo fencing which had been hastily set up around the town was not a very strong affair. And right from the start it gave way in one place after another as the enemy thronged and crowded against it. Then the Doctor, Longyaro, and Bumpo would hurry to the weak spot. A terrific hand-to-hand fight would take place and the enemy be thrown out. But almost instantly a cry of alarm would come from some other part of the village wall. And the three would have to rush off and do the same thing all over again. The Popsapetals were themselves no mean fighters but the strength and weight of those three men of different lands and colors standing close together swinging their enormous war clubs was really a sight for the wonder and admiration of anyone. Many weeks later when I was passing an Indian campfire at night I heard this song being sung. It has since become one of the traditional folk songs of the Popsapetals. The Song of the Terrible Three Oh, hear ye the song of the Terrible Three and the fight that they fought by the edge of the sea. Down from the mountains, the rocks and the crags swarming like wasps came the bag-jagged rags. Surrounding our village, our walls they broke down. Oh, sad was the plight of our men and our town. But heaven determined our land to set free and sent us the help of the Terrible Three. One was a black, he was dark as the night. One was a red skin, a mountain of height. But the chief was a white man, round like a bee and all in a row stood the Terrible Three. Shoulder to shoulder they hammered and hit. Like demons of fury they kicked and they bit. Like a wall of destruction they stood in a row flattening enemies six at a blow. Oh, strong was the red skin, fierce was the black. Bag-jagged rags trembled and tried to turn back. But twas of the white men they shouted, Beware! He throws men in handfuls straight up in the air. Long shall they frighten bad children at night with tales of the red and the black and the white. And long shall we sing of the Terrible Three and the fight that they fought by the edge of the sea. Chapter Six General Polynesia But alas, even the three mighty though they were could not last forever against an army which seemed to have no end. In one of the hottest scrimmages, when the enemy had broken a particularly wide hole through the fence, I saw Lung Arrow's great figure topple and come down with a spear sticking in his broad chest. For another half hour Bumpo and the doctor fought on side by side. The other strength held out so long I cannot tell. For never a second were they given to get their breath or rest their arms. The doctor, the quite kindly peaceable little doctor. Well, you wouldn't have known him if you had seen him that day, dealing out waxed you could hear a mile off, walloping and swatting in all directions. As for Bumpo, with staring eyeballs and grim set teeth, he was a veritable demon. One dared come within yards of that wicked, wide-circling doorpost, but a stone skillfully thrown stuck him at last in the center of the forehead and down went the second of the three. John Doolittle, the last of the Terribles, was left fighting alone. Jip and I rushed to his side and tried to take the places of the fallen ones, but far too light and too small we made but a poor exchange. Another length of the fence crashed down, and through the widen gap the bag-jagdurags poured in on us like a flood. To the canoes, to the sea, cried the pops of petals. Fly for your lives, all is over, the war is lost. But the doctor and I never got a chance to fly for our lives. We were swept off our feet and knocked down flat by the sheer weight of the mob, and once down we were unable to get up again. I thought we would surely be traveled to death. But at that moment, above the din and racket of the battle, we heard the most terrifying noise that ever assaulted human ears, the sound of millions and millions of parrots all screeching with fury together. The army, which in the nick of time Polynesia had brought to our rescue, darkened the whole sky to the westward. I asked her afterwards how many birds there were. She said she didn't know exactly, but that they certainly numbered somewhere between sixty and seventy millions. In that extraordinarily short space of time, she had brought them from the mainland of South America. If you have ever heard a parrot screech with anger, you will know that it makes a truly frightful sound. And if you have ever been bitten by one, you will know that its bite can be a nasty and painful thing. The black parrots, cold black all over they were except for a scarlet beak and a streak of red in wing and tail. On the word of command from Polynesia, set to work upon the bag Jagger eggs, who were now pouring through the village looking for plunder. And the black parrot's method of fighting was peculiar. This is what they did. On the head of each bag Jagger egg, three or four parrots settled and took a good foothold in his hair with their claws. Then they lent down over the sides of his head and began clipping snips out of his ears. For all the world is though they were punching tickets. That is all they did. They never bit anywhere else except the ears. But it won the war for us. With howls pitiful to hear, the bag Jagger eggs fell over one another in their haste to get out of that accursed village. It was no use trying to pull the parrots off their heads, because for each head there were always four more parrots waiting impatiently to get on. Some of the enemy were lucky, and with only a snip or two, managed to get outside the fence, where the parrots immediately left them alone. But with most, before the blackbirds had done with them, the ears presented a very singular appearance, like the edge of a postage stamp. This treatment, very painful at the time, did not however do them any permanent harm beyond the change in looks, and it later got to be the tribal mark of the bag Jagger eggs. No really smart young lady of this tribe would be seen walking with a man who did not have scalloped ears. For such was proof that he had been in the Great War. And that, though it is not generally known to scientists, is how this people came to be called by the other Indian nations the ragged-eared bag Jagger eggs. As soon as the village was cleared of the enemy, the doctor turned his attention to the wounded. In spite of the length and fierceness of the struggle, there were surprisingly few serious injuries. Poor long arrow was the worst off. However after the doctor had washed his wound and got him to bed, he opened his eyes and said he already felt better. Bumple was only badly stunned. With this part of the business over, the doctor called to Polynesia to have the blackbirds drive the enemy right back into their own country and wait there guarding them all night. Polynesia gave the short word of command, and like one bird, those millions of parrots opened their red beaks and led out once more their terrifying battle-screen. The bag Jagger eggs didn't wait to be bitten a second time, but fled helter-skelter over the mountains from which they had come, whilst Polynesia with her victorious army followed watchfully behind like a great threatening black cloud. The doctor picked up his high hat which had been knocked off in the fight, dusted it carefully, and put it on. He said, shaking his fist towards the hills. We will arrange the terms of peace, and we will arrange them in the city of bag Jagger egg. His words were greeted with cheers of triumph from the admiring pots of petals. The war was over. Chapter 7 The Peace of the Parrots The next day we set out for the far end of the island, and reaching it in canoes, where we went out by sea, after a journey of twenty-five hours we remained no longer than was necessary in the city of bag Jagger egg. When he threw himself into that fight at Popsapetl, I saw the doctor really angry for the first time in my life. But this anger once aroused was slow to die. All the day down the coast of the island never ceased to wail against this cowardly people who had attacked his friends, the Popsapetls, for no other reason but to rob them of their corn, because they were too idle to till the land themselves. And he was still angry when he reached the city of the bag Jagger egg. Long arrow had not come with us, for he was as yet too weak from his wound. But the doctor, always clever at languages, was already getting familiar with the Indian tongue. Besides, among the half dozen Popsapetls who accompanied us to paddle the canoes, was one boy to whom we had taught a little English. He and the doctor between them managed to make themselves understood to the bag Jagger eggs. This people, with the terrible parrot still blackening the hills around their stone town, waiting for the word to descend an attack, where we found in a very humble mood. Leaving our canoes, we passed up the main street to the palace of the chief. Bumpo and I couldn't help smiling with satisfaction, as we saw how the waiting crowds which lined the roadway bowed their heads to the ground, as the little round angry figure of the doctor strutted ahead of us with his chin in the air. At the foot of the palace steps the chief and all the more important personages of the tribe were waiting to meet him, smiling humbly and holding out their hands in friendliness. The doctor took off the slightest notice. He marched right by them up the steps to the door of the palace. There he turned around and at once began to address the people in a firm voice. I have never heard such a speech in my life, and I am quite sure that they never did either. First he called them a long string of names. Cowards, loafers, thieves, vagabonds, good for nothings, bullies, and what not. Then he said he was still seriously thinking of allowing the parrots to dry them on into the sea, in order that this pleasant land might be rid once for all of their worthless carcasses. At this a great cry for mercy went up, and the chief and all of them fell on their knees, culling out that they would submit to any conditions of peace he wished. Then the doctor called for one of their scribes, that is a man who did picture writing, and on the stone walls of the palace a bag jagged a rag. He bade them write down the terms of the peace as he dictated it. The peace is known as the peace of the parrots, and unlike most pieces, was and is strictly kept even to this day. It was quite long in words. The half of the palace front was covered with picture writing, and fifty pots of paint were used before the weary scribe had done. But the main part of it was all that there should be no more fighting, and that the two tribes should give solemn promise to help one another whenever there was corn famine or other distress in the lands belonging to either. This greatly surprised the bag jagged rags. They had expected from the doctor's angry face that he would at least chop a couple of hundred heads off, and probably make the rest of them slaves for life. But when they saw that he only meant kindly by them, their great fear of him changed to a tremendous admiration, and as he ended his long speech and they walked riskily down the steps again on his way back to the canoes, the group of chieftains threw themselves at his feet and cried, Do but stay with us, great Lord, and all the riches of bag jagged rags shall be poured into your lap. Gold mines we know of in the mountains and pearl beds beneath the sea. Only stay with us that your all-powerful wisdom may lead our council and our people in prosperity and peace. The doctor held up his hands for silence. No man, said he, would wish to be the guest of the bag jagged rags till they had proved by their deeds that they are an honest race. Be true to the terms of the peace, and from yourselves shall come good government and prosperity. Farewell! Then he turned and followed by Bumple, the pops of petals in myself, walked rapidly down to the canoes. End of part five, chapter seven. Part five, chapters eight to ten, are the voyages of Dr. Noodlittle by Hugh Locting. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter eight, The Hanging Stone. But the change of heart in the bag jagged rags was really sincere. The doctor had made a great impression of them, a deeper one than even he himself realized at the time. In fact I sometimes think that that speech of his from the Palasteps had more effect upon the Indians of Spider Monkey Island than had any of his great deeds, which great though they were, were always magnified and exaggerated when the news of them was passed from mouth to mouth. A sick girl was brought to him as he reached the place where the boats lay. She turned out to have some quite simple ailment which he quickly gave the remedy for. But this increased his popularity still more, and when he stepped into his canoe the people all around us actually burst into tears. It seems, I learned this afterwards, that they thought he was going away across the sea for good to the mysterious foreign lands from which he had come. Some of the chieftains spoke to the pops of petals as we pushed off. What they said I did not understand, but we noticed that several canoes filled with bag jagged rags followed us at a respectful distance all the way back to pop the petal. The doctor had determined to return by the other shore so that we should be thus able to make a complete trip round the island's shores. Shortly after we started, while still off the lower end of the island, we sighted a steep point on the coast where the sea was in a great state of turmoil, white with soapy froth. A going nearer we found that this was caused by our friendly whales who were still faithfully working away with their noses against the end of the island, driving us northward. We had been kept so busy with the war that we had forgotten all about them. But as we paused and watched their mighty tails lashing and churning the sea, we suddenly realized that we had not felt cold in quite a long while. Speeding up our boat lest the island be carried away from us altogether, we passed on up the coast, and here and there we noticed that the trees on the shore already looked greener and more healthy. Spider-Monkey Island was getting back into her home climates. About half way to pop the petal, we went to shore and spent two or three days exploring the central part of the island. Our Indian paddlers took us up into the mountains, very steep and high in this region, overhanging the sea, and they showed us what they called the Whispering Rocks. This was a very peculiar and striking piece of scenery. It was like a great vast basin or circus in the mountains, and out of the center of it, there rose a table of rock with an ivory chair upon it. All around this mountain went up like stairs or theater seats to a great height, except at one narrow end which was open to a view of the sea. You could imagine it a council place or concert hall for giants, and the rock table in the center of the stage for performers or the stand for the speaker. We asked our guides why it was called the Whispering Rocks, and they said, Go down into it, and we will show you. The great bowl was miles deep and miles wide. We scrambled down the rocks and they showed us how, even when you stood far, far apart from one another, you merely had to whisper in the great place, and everyone in the theater could hear you. This was, the doctor said, an account of the echoes which played backwards and forwards between the high walls of rock. Our guides told us that it was here, In days long gone by when the Popsapettles owned the whole of Spider-Monkey Island, that the kings were crowned. The ivory chair upon the table was the throne in which they sat, and so great was the big theater that all the Indians in the island were able to get seats in it to see the ceremony. They showed us also an enormous hanging stone perched on the edge of a volcano's crater, the highest summit in the whole island. Although it was very far below us, we could see it quite plainly, and it looked wobbly enough to be pushed off its perch with the hand. There was a legend among the people, they said that, When the greatest of all Popsipital kings should be crowned in the ivory chair, this hanging stone would tumble into the volcano's mouth and go straight down to the center of the earth. The doctor said he would like to go and examine it closer, and when we were come to the lip of the volcano, it took us half a day to get up to it, we found the stone was unbelievably large, big as a cathedral. Underneath it we could look right down into a black hole which seemed to have no bottom. The doctor explained to us that volcanoes sometimes put it up fire from these holes in their tops, but that those on floating islands were always cold and dead. Stubbins! he said, looking up at the great stone towering above us. Do you know what would most likely happen if that boulder should fall in? No, said I. What? You remember the air chamber which the porpoises told us lies under the center of the island? Yes. Well, this stone is heavy enough if it fell into the volcano to break through into that air chamber from above. And once it did, the air would escape and the floating island would float no more. It would sink. But then everybody on it would be drowned, wouldn't they? Said bubble. Oh no, not necessarily. That would depend on the depth of the sea where the sinking took place. The island might touch bottom when it had only gone down, say, a hundred feet, but there would be lots of it still sticking up above the water, then, wouldn't there? Yes. Said bubble. I suppose there would. Well, let us hope that the panderous fragment does not lose its equilibriosity, for I don't believe it would stop at the center of the earth. More likely it would fall right through the world and come out the other side. Many other wonders there were which these men showed us in the central regions of their island, but I have not time or space to tell you of them now. Descending towards the shore again, we noticed that we were still being watched, even here among the highlands by the bagjagger-dags who had followed us. And when we put to sea once more, a boatload of them proceeded to go ahead of us in the direction of Popsapettle. Having lighter canoes, they traveled faster than our party and we judged that they should reach the village if that was where they were going many hours before we could. The doctor was now becoming anxious to see how long Arrow was getting on, so we all took turns at the paddles and went on traveling by moonlight through the whole night. We reached Popsapettle just as the dawn was breaking. To our great surprise, we found not only we, but the whole village also had been up all night. A great crowd was gathered about the dead chief's house and as we landed our canoes upon the beach, we saw a large number of old men, the seniors of the tribe coming out at the main door. We inquired what was the meaning of all this and we're told that the election of a new chief had been going on all through the whole night. Bumpo asked the name of the new chief, but this it seemed had not yet been given out. It would be announced at midday. As soon as the doctor had paid a visit to Long Arrow and seen that he was doing nicely, we proceeded to our own house at the far end of the village. Here we ate some breakfast and then laid down to take a good rest. Rest indeed we needed, for life had been strenuous and busy for us ever since we had landed on the island and it was at many minutes after our weary head struck the pillows that the whole crew of us were sound asleep. Chapter nine, the election. We were awakened by music. The glaring new day sunlight was streaming in at our door, outside of which some kind of band appeared to be playing. We got up and looked out. Our house was surrounded by the whole population of Popsapetal. We were used to having quite a number of curious and admiring Indians waiting at our door at all hours, but this was quite different. The vast crowd was dressed in its best clothes. Bright beads, gaudy feathers, and gay blankets gave cheerful color to the singing. Everyone seemed in good humor, singing or playing on musical instruments, mostly painted wooden whistles or drums made from skins. We found Polynesia, who while we slept, had arrived back from Baghdagar Bagh, sitting on our doorposts watching the show. We asked her what all the holiday making was about. The result of the election has just been announced, said she. The name of the new chief was given out at noon. And who is the new chief? Asked the doctor. You are? Said Polynesia quietly. I? Casped the doctor. Well, of all things. Yes, said she. You're the one. And what's more, they've changed your surname for you. They didn't think that Doolittle was a proper or respectful name for a man who had done so much. So now you are to be known as John Thinkalot. How do you like it? But I don't want to be a chief. Said the doctor in an irritable voice. I'm afraid you'll have hard work to get out of it now. Said she. Unless you're willing to put to sea again in one of their rickety canoes. You see, you've been elected not merely the chief of the Popsie Petals, you're to be a king, the king of the whole of Spider Monkey Island. The bag Jagdurags, who were so anxious to have you govern them, sent spies and messengers ahead of you. And when they found that you had been elected chief of the Popsie Petals overnight, they were bitterly disappointed. However, rather than lose you all together, the bag Jagdurags were willing to give up their independence and insisted that they and their lands be united to the Popsie Petals in order that you could be made king of both. So now you're in for it. Oh, Lord. Grown the doctor. I do wish they wouldn't be so enthusiastic. Bother it, I don't want to be a king. I should think, doctor. Said I. You'd feel rather proud and glad. I wish I had a chance to be a king. Oh, I know it sounds grand. Said he, pulling on his boots miserably. But the trouble is you can't take up responsibilities and then just drop them again when you feel like it. I have my own work to do. Scarcely one moment have I had to give to natural history since I landed on this island. I've been doing someone else's business all the time. And now they want me to go on doing it. Why, once I'm made king of the Popsie Petals, that's the end of me as a useful naturalist. I'd be too busy for anything. All I'd be then is just a, er, er, just a king. Well, that is something. Said Bapu. My father is a king and has 120 wives. That would make it worse. Said the doctor. 120 times worse. I have my work to do. I don't want to be a king. Look. Said Polynesia. Here come the head men to announce your election. Hurry up and get your boots laced. The throng before our door had suddenly parted asunder, making a long lane. And down this we now saw a group of personages coming towards us. The man in front, a handsome old Indian with a wrinkled face, carried in his hands a wooden crown, a truly beautiful and gorgeous crown, even though of wood. Wonderfully carved and painted, it had two lovely blue feathers springing from the front of it. Behind the old man came eight strong Indians bearing a litter, a sort of chair with long handles underneath to carry it by. Leaning down on one knee, bending his head almost to the ground, the old man addressed the doctor who now stood in the doorway, putting on his collar and tie. Oh, mighty one. Said he. We bring you word from the popsapettle people. Great are your deeds beyond belief. Kind is your heart and your wisdom. Deeper than the sea. Our chief is dead. The people clamor for a worthy leader. Our old enemies, the bag-jack-de-rags, are become, through you, our brothers and good friends. They too desire to bask beneath the sunshine of your smile. Behold then, I bring to you the sacred crown of popsapettle, which since ancient days, when this island and its peoples were one, beneath one monarch has rested on no kingly brow. Oh, kindly one, we are bitten by the united voices of the peoples of this land to carry you to the whispering rocks. That there, with all respect and majesty, you may be crowned our king, king of the moving land. The good Indians did not seem to have even considered the possibility of John D. Little's refusing. As for the poor doctor, I never saw him so upset by anything. It was, in fact, the only time I have known him to get thoroughly fussed. Oh, dear! I heard him murmur, looking around wildly for some escape. What shall I do? Did any of you see where I laid that stud of mine? How on earth can I get this collar on, without a stud? What a day this is, to be sure. Maybe it rolled under the bed, Bumpo. I do think they might have given me a day or so to think it over in. Whoever heard of waking a man right out of his sleep and telling him he's got to be a king, before he has even washed his face. Can't any of you find it? Maybe you're standing on it, Bumpo. Move your feet. Oh, don't bother about your stud. Said Polynesia. You will have to be crowned without a collar. They won't know the difference. I tell you, I am not going to be crowned. Right, the doctor. Not if I can help it. I'll make them a speech. Perhaps that will satisfy them. He turned back to the Indians at the door. My friends, he said, I am not worthy of this great honor you would do me. Little or no skill have I in the arts of Kingcraft. Assuredly among your own brave men, you will find many better fit to lead you. For this compliment, this confidence, and trust, I thank you. But I pray you do not think of me for such high duties, which I could not possibly fulfill. The old man repeated his words to the people behind him in a louder voice. Stolledly they shook their heads, moving not an inch. The old man turned back to the doctor. You are the chosen one. Said he. They will have none but you. Into the doctor's perplexed face, suddenly there came a flash of hope. I'll go and see Long Arrow. He whispered to me. Perhaps he will know of some way to get me out of this. And asking the person to just to excuse him a moment, he left them there, standing at his door, and hurried off in the direction of Long Arrow's house. I followed him. We found our big friend lying on a grass bed outside his home, where he had been moved that he might witness the holiday making. Long Arrow! Said the doctor speaking quickly in eagle tongue, so that the bystanders could not overhear. In dire peril I come to you for help. These men would make me their king. If such a thing befall me, all the great work I hope to do must go undone. For who is there unfreer than a king? I pray you speak with them and persuade their kind, well-meaning hearts that what they plan to do would be unwise. Long Arrow raised himself upon his elbow. Oh kindly one. Said he. This seemed now to have become the usual manner of address when speaking to the doctor. Soarly it grieves me that the first wish you ask of me I should be unable to grant. Alas, I can do nothing. These people have so set their hearts on keeping you for king that if I tried to interfere, they would drive me from their land and likely crown you in the end in any case. A king you must be, if only for a while. We must so arrange the business of governing that you may have time to give to nature secrets. Later we may be able to hit upon some plan to relieve you of the burden of the crown. But for now you must be king. These people are a headstrong tribe and they will have their way. There is no other course. Sadly the doctor turned away from the bed and faced about. And there behind him stood the old man again. The crown still held in his wrinkled hands and the royal litter waiting at his elbow. With a deep reverence the bearers motion toward the seat of the chair, inviting the white man to get in. Once more the poor doctor looked wildly, hopelessly about him for some means of escape. For a moment I thought he was going to take to his heels and run for it. But the crowd around us was far too thick and densely packed for anyone to break through it. A band of whistles and drums nearby suddenly started the music of a solemn processional march. He turned back pleadingly again to long arrow and a last appeal for help. But the big Indian merely shook his head and pointed like the bearers to the waiting chair. At last, almost in tears, John dood little step slowly into the litter and sat down. And as he was hoisted on the broad shoulders of the bearers I heard him still feebly muttering beneath his breath. Botheration take it, I don't want to be a king. Farewell. Called long arrow from his bed. And may good fortune ever stand within the shadow of your throne. He comes, he comes. Murber at the crowd. Away, away to the whispering rocks. And as the procession formed up to leave the village, the crowd about us began hurrying off in the direction of the mountains to make sure of good seats in the giant theater where the crowning ceremony would take place. Chapter 10. The Coronation of King John. In my long lifetime I have seen many grand and inspiring things. But never anything that impressed me half as much as the sight of the whispering rocks as they looked on the day King John was crowned. As Bumpo, Chi Chi, Polynesia, Chip and I finally reached the dizzy edge of the great bowl and looked down and sighted, it was like gazing over a never ending ocean of copper colored faces where every seat in the theater was filled. Every man, woman and child in the island, including long arrow who had been carried up on his sick bed was there to see the show. Yet not a sound, not a pin dropped disturbed the solemn silence of the whispering rocks. It was quite creepy and sent chills running up and down your spine. Bumpo told me afterwards that it took his breath away too much for him to speak but that he hadn't known before that there were that many people in the world. Away down by the table of the throne stood a brand new brightly colored totem pole. All the Indian families had totem poles and kept them set up before the doors of their houses. The idea of a totem pole is something like a door plate or a visiting card. It represents in its carvings the deeds and qualities of the family to which it belongs. This one beautifully decorated and much higher than any other was the doodle or as it was to be henceforth called the Royal Thinkalot Totem. It had nothing but animals on it to signify the doctor's great knowledge of creatures. And the animals chosen to be shown were those which to the Indians were supposed to represent good qualities of character such as the deer for speed, the ox for perseverance, the fish for discretion and so on. But at the top of the totem it's always placed the sign or animal by which the family is most proud to be known. This on the thinkalot pole was an enormous parrot in memory of the famous piece of the parrots. The ivory throne had been all polished with scented oil and it glistened brightly in the strong sunlight. At the foot of it there had been strewn great quantities of branches of flowering trees with which the new warmth of milder climates were now blossoming in the valleys of the island. Soon we saw the royal litter with the doctor seated in it slowly ascending the winding steps to the table. Reaching the flat top at last it halted and the doctor stepped out upon the flowering carpet. So still and perfect was the silence that even at that distance above I distinctly heard a twig snap beneath his tread. Walking to the throne accompanied by the old man the doctor got up upon the stand and sat down. How tiny his little round figure looked when seen from that tremendous height. The throne had been made for longer-legged kings and when he was seated his feet did not reach the ground but dangled six inches from the top step. Then the old man turned round and looking up at the people began to speak in a quiet, even voice. But every word he said was easily heard in the furthest corner of the whispery rocks. First he recited the names of all the great popsopetal kings who in days long ago had been crowned in this ivory chair. He spoke of the greatness of the popsopetal people, of their triumphs, of their hardships. Then waving his hands towards the doctor he began recounting the things which the king to be had done. But I am bound to say that they easily outmatched the deeds of those who had gone before him. As soon as he started to speak of what the doctor had achieved for the tribe the people still strictly silent all began waving their right hands towards the throne. This gave to the vast theater a very singular appearance. Acres and acres of something moving with never a sound. At last the old man finished his speech and stepping up to the chair very respectfully removed the doctor's battered high hat. He was about to put it upon the ground but the doctor took it from him hastily and kept it on his lap. Then taking up the sacred crown he placed it upon John Doodlittle's hand. It did not fit very well for it had been made for smaller headed kings and when the wind blew in freshly from the sunlit sea the doctor had some difficulty in keeping it on but it looked very splitted. Turning once more to the people the old man said, men of popsopetal, behold your elected king, are you content? And then at last the voice of the people broke loose. John, John! They shouted, Long live King John! The sound burst upon the solemn silence with a crash of a hundred cannon. There where even a whisper carried miles the shock of it was like a blow in the face. Back and forth the mountains threw it to one another. I thought the echoes of it would never die away as it passed rumbling through the whole island jangling among the lower valleys booming in the distant sea caves. Suddenly I saw the old man point upward to the highest mountain in the island and looking over my shoulder I was just in time to see the hanging stone topple slowly out of sight down into the heart of the volcano. See ye men of the moving land. The old man cried. The stone has fallen and our legend has come true. The king of kings is crowned this day. The doctor too had seen the stone fall and he was now standing up looking at the sea, expectantly. He is thinking of the air chamber. Said Bumper with my ear. Let us hope that the sea isn't very deep in these parts. After a full minute, so long did it take the stone to fall that depth. We heard a muffled distant crunching thud and then immediately after a great hissing of escaping air. The doctor his face tense with anxiety sat down in the throne again still watching the blue water of the ocean with staring eyes. Soon we felt the island slowly sinking beneath us. We saw the sea creep inland over the beaches as the shores went down. One foot, three feet, 10 feet, 20, 50, 100. And then thank goodness gently as a butterfly alighting on a rose, it stopped. Spider Monkey Island had come to rest on the sandy bottom of the Atlantic and earth was joined to earth once more. Of course many of the houses near the shores were now under water. Popsapetal village itself had entirely disappeared. But it didn't matter. No one was drowned for every soul in the island was high up in the hills watching the coronation of King Zhang. The Indians themselves did not realize at the time what was taking place. Though of course they had felt the land sinking beneath them. The doctor told us afterwards that it must have been the shock of that tremendous shock coming from a million throats at once that had toppled the hanging stone off its perch. But in Popsapetal history the story was handed down and it is firmly believed to this day that when King Zhang sat upon the throne so great was his mighty weight that the very island itself sank down to do him honor and never moved again. End of part five. Part six, chapters one to three of the voyages of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofty. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter one, New Popsapetal. Zhang think a lot had not ruled over his new kingdom more than a couple of days before my notions about kings and the kind of lives they led changed very considerably. I had thought that all kings had to do was to sit on a throne and have people bow down before them several times a day. I now saw that a king can be the hardest working man in the world if he attends properly to his business. From the moment that he got up early in the morning till the time he went to bed late at night, seven days in the week, Zhang Doolittle was busy, busy, busy. First of all, there was the new town to be built. The village of Popsapetal had disappeared. The city of New Popsapetal must be made. With great care, a place was chosen for it and a very beautiful position it was at the mouth of a large river. The shores of the island at this point formed a lovely wide bay where canoes and ships too if they should ever come could lie peacefully at anchor without danger from storms. In building this town, the doctor gave the Indians a lot of new ideas. He showed them what town sewers were and how garbage should be collected each day and burnt. High up in the hills he made a large lake by damming a stream. This was the water supply for the town. None of these things had the Indians ever seen and many of the sicknesses which they had suffered from before were now entirely prevented by proper drainage and pure drinking water. People who don't use fire do not of course have metals either because without fire it is almost impossible to shape iron and steel. One of the first things that John Doodlittle did was to search the mountains till he found iron and copper mines. Then he set to work to teach the Indians how these metals could be melted and made into knives and plows and water pipes in all manner of things. In his kingdom, the doctor tried his hardest to do away with most of the old fashioned pomp and grandeur of a royal court. As he said to Bumpo and me, if he must be a king he meant to be a thoroughly democratic one. That is, a king who is chummy and friendly with his subjects and doesn't put on airs. And when he drew up the plans for the city of New Popsapettle he had no palace shown of any kind. A little cottage in a back street was all that he had provided for himself. But this the Indians would not permit on any account. They had been used to having their kings rule in a truly grand and kingly manner. And they insisted that he had built for himself the most magnificent palace ever seen. In all else they let him have his own way, absolutely. But they wouldn't allow him to wiggle out of any of the ceremony or show that goes with being a king. A thousand servants he had to keep in his palace night and day to wait on him. The royal canoe had to be kept up. A gorgeous polished mahogany boat, 70 feet long inlaid with mother pearl and paddled by the hundred strongest men in the island. The palace gardens covered a square mile and employed 160 gardeners. Even in his dress the poor man was compelled always to be grand and elegant and uncomfortable. The beloved embattered high hat was put away in a closet and only looked at secretly. State robes had to be worn on all occasions. And when the doctor did once in a while managed to sneak off for short natural history expedition he never dared to wear his old clothes but had to chase his butterflies with a crown upon his head and a scarlet cloak flying behind him in the wind. There was no end to the kinds of duties the doctor had to perform and the questions he had to decide upon. Everything from settling disputes about lands and boundaries to making peace between husband and wife who had been throwing shoes at one another. In the east wing of the royal palace was the Hall of Justice and here King Jong sat every morning from nine to 11 passing judgment on all cases that were brought before him. Then in the afternoon he taught school. The sort of things he taught were not always those you find in ordinary schools. Growing-ups as well as children came to learn. You see these Indians were ignorant of many of the things that quite small white children know. Though it is also true that they know a lot that white grown-ups never dreamed of. Bumpo and I helped with the teaching as far as we could. Simple arithmetic and easy things like that. But the classes in astronomy, farming science, the proper care of babies with a host of other subjects the doctor had to teach himself. The Indians were tremendously keen about the schooling and they came in droves and crowds so that even with the open-air classes a schoolhouse was impossible of course. The doctor had to take them in relays in batches of five or 6,000 at a time and used a big megaphone or trumpet to make himself heard. The rest of his day was more than filled with road-making, building water mills, attending the sick and a million other things. In spite of his being so unwilling to become king, John Doodlittle made a very good one once he got started. He may not have been as dignified as many kings in history who were always running off to war and getting themselves into romantic situations. But since I have grown up and seen something of foreign lands and governments, I have often thought that pops the pedal. Under the reign of John think-a-lot was perhaps the best-ruled state in the history of the world. The doctor's birthday came round after we had been on the island six months and a half. The people made a great public holiday of it and there was much feasting, dancing, fireworks, speech-making and jollification. Towards the close of the day the chief men of the two tribes formed a procession and passed through the streets of the town, carrying a very gorgeously painted tablet of ebony wood 10 feet high. This was a picture history, such as they preserved for each of these ancient kings a pops a pedal to record their deeds. With great insolence ceremony, it was set up over the door of the new palace and everybody then clustered round to look at it. It had six pictures on it, commemorating the sixth great events in the life of King John and beneath it were written the verses that explained them. They were composed by the court-port and this is a translation. One, his landing on the island. Heaven sent in his doff and drawn canoe. From worlds unknown he landed on our shores. The very palms bowed down their heads. And welcome to the coming king. Two, his meeting with the beetle. By moonlight in the mountains he communed with beasts. The shy Jabizry brings him picture words of great distress. Three, he liberates the lost families. Big was his heart with pity. Big were his hands with strength. See how he tears the mountains like a yam. See how the lost ones dance forth to greet the day. Four, he makes fire. Our land was cold and dying. He waved his hand and lo, lightning leapt from cloudless skies. The sun leaned down and fire was born. Then while we crowded round the grateful glow, pushed he our wayward floating land back to peaceful anchorage in sunny seas. Five, he leads the people to victory and war. Once only was his kindly countenance darkened by a deadly frown. Woe to the wicked enemy that dares attack the tribe with think-a-lot for chief. Six, he has crowned king. The birds of the air rejoiced. The sea laughed and gambled with their shores. All redskins wept for joy. The day we crowned him king. He is the builder, the healer, the teacher, and the prince. He is the greatest of them all. He lived a thousand thousand years, happy in his heart to bless our land with peace. Chapter 2 Thoughts of Home In the royal palace Bumpo and I had a beautiful suite of rooms of our very own, which Polynesian, Jip, and Chichi shared with us. Officially Bumpo was minister of the interior while I was first lord of the treasury. Long Era also had quarters there, but at present he was absent, traveling abroad. One night after supper when the doctor was away in the town somewhere visiting a newborn baby, we were all sitting round the big table in Bumpo's reception room. This we did every evening to talk over the plans for the following day and various affairs of state. It was a kind of cabinet meeting. Tonight, however, we were talking about England and also about things to eat. We had got a little tired of Indian food. You see, none of the natives knew how to cook, and we had the most discouraging time training a chef for the royal kitchen. Most of them were champions at spoiling good food. Often we got so hungry that the doctor would sneak downstairs with us into the palace basement after all the cooks were safe in bed and fry pancakes secretly over the dying embers of the fire. The doctor himself was the finest cook that ever lived, but he used to make a terrible mess of the kitchen, and of course we had to be awfully careful that we didn't get caught. Well, as I was saying, tonight, food was a subject of discussion at the cabinet meeting, and I had just been reminding Bumpo of the nice dishes we had had at the bedmaker's house in Monteverde. I tell you what I would like now, said Bumpo. A large cup of cocoa, with whipped cream on the top of it. In Oxford, we used to be able to get the most wonderful cocoa. It is really too bad that they haven't eaten any cocoa trees in this island or cows to give cream. When do you suppose? Ask Jip. The doctor intends to move on from here. I was talking to him about that only yesterday, said Polynesia. But I couldn't get any satisfactory answer out of him. He didn't seem to want to speak about it. There was a pause in the conversation. Do you know what I believe? She added presently. I believe the doctor has given up even thinking of going home. Good Lord! Cried Bumpo. You don't say. Shh! Said Polynesia. What's that noise? We listened. And away off in the distant corridors of the palace, we heard the sentries crying. The king! Make way! The king! It's he at last! Whispering Polynesia. Late as usual. Poor man, how he does work! Tee-chee, get the pipe and tobacco out of the cupboard and lay the dressing gown ready on his chair. When the doctor came into the room, he looked serious and thoughtful. Wearily he took off his crown and hung it on a peg behind the door. Then he exchanged the royal cloak for the dressing gown, dropped into his chair at the head of the table with a deep sigh and started to fill his pipe. Well, asked Polynesia quietly, How did you find the baby? The baby? He murmured. His thoughts still seemed to be very far away. Ah, yes! The baby was much better, thank you. It has cut its second tooth. Then he was silent again, staring dreamily at the ceiling through the cloud of tobacco smoke, while all of us sat round quite still, waiting. We were wondering, doctor. Said I at last. Just before you came in, when you would be starting home again, we will have been on this island seven months tomorrow. The doctor sat forward in his chair, looking rather uncomfortable. Well, as a matter of fact, said he after a moment, I meant to speak to you myself this evening on that very subject, but it's a little hard to make anyone exactly understand the situation. I am afraid that it would be impossible for me to leave the work I am now engaged on. You remember, when they first insisted on making me king, I told you it was not easy to shake off responsibilities once you had taken them up. These people have come to rely on me for a great number of things. We found the ignorant of much that white people enjoy and we have, one might say, changed the current of their lives considerably. Now it is a very ticklish business to change the lives of other people and whether the changes we have made will be in the end for good or for bad is our lookout. The thought a moment then went on in a quieter, sadder voice. I would like to continue my voyages and my natural history work and I would like to go back to Puttleby as much as any of you. This is March and the crocuses will be showing in the lawn. But that which I feared has come true. I cannot close my eyes to what might happen if I should leave these people and run away. They would probably go back to their old habits and customs. Wars, superstitions, devil worship and whatnot and many of the new things we have taught them might be put to improper use and make their condition then worse by far than that in which we found them. They like me, they trust me. They have come to look to me for help in all their problems and troubles and no man wants to do unfair things to them who trust him. And then again, I like them. They are as it were my children. I never had any children of my own and I am terribly interested in how they will grow up. Don't you see what I mean? How can I possibly run away and leave them in the lurch? No, I have thought it over a good deal and tried to decide what was best. And I am afraid that the work I took up when I assumed the crown, I must stick to. I'm afraid I've got to stay. For good? For your whole life? Ask Bumple in a low voice. For some moments, the Dr. Frowning made no answer. I don't know. He said it last. Anyhow, for the present, there is certainly no hope of my leaving. It wouldn't be right. The sad silence that followed was broken finally by a knock upon the door. With a patient sigh, the doctor got up, put on his crown and cloak again. Come in! He called, sitting down on his chair once more. The door opened and a footman, one of the 143 who were always on night duty, stood bowing in the entrance. Oh, kindly one! Said he. There is a traveller at the palace gate who would have speech with your Majesty. Another baby's been born, all better shilling. Matter in Polynesia. Did you ask the traveller's name? Inquired the doctor. Yes, your Majesty. Said the footman. It is Long Arrow, the son of Golden Arrow. Chapter three, The Red Man's Science. Long Arrow! Cried the doctor. How splendid! Show him in, show him in at once. I'm so glad. He continued turning to us as soon as the footman had gone. I've missed Long Arrow terribly. He's an awfully good man to have around, even if he doesn't talk much. Let me see. It's five months now since he went off to Brazil. I'm so glad he's back safe. He does take such tremendous chances with that canoe of his, clever as he is. It's no joke crossing 100 miles of open sea in a 12-foot canoe. I wouldn't care to try it. Another knock. And when the doors went open in answer to the doctor's call, there stood our big friend on the threshold, a smile upon his strong bronze face. Behind him appeared two porters carrying loads done up in Indian palm matting. These, when the first salutations were over, Long Arrow ordered to lay their burdens down. Behold, O kindly one. Said he. I bring you, as I promised, my collection of plants, which I had hidden in a cave in the Andes. These treasures represent the labors of my life. The packages were opened, and inside were many smaller packages and bundles. Carefully, they were laid out and rose upon the table. It appeared at first a large but disappointing display. There were plants, flowers, fruits, leaves, roots, nuts, beans, honeys, gums, bark, seeds, bees, and a few kinds of insects. The study of plants, or botany, as it is called, was a kind of natural history which had never interested me very much. I had considered it compared with the study of animals, adult science. But as Long Arrow began taking up the various things in his collection and explaining their qualities to us, I became more and more fascinated. And before he had done, I was completely absorbed by the wonders of the vegetable kingdom which he had brought so far. These, he said, taking up a little packet of big seeds, are what I have called laughing beans. What are they for? Asked a bumple. To cause mirth, said the Indian. Bumple, while Long Arrow's back was turned, took three of the beans and swallowed them. Alas! said the Indian when he discovered what Bumple had done. If he wished to try the powers of these seeds, he should have eaten no more than a quarter of a one. Let us hope that he does not die of laughter. The beans' effects upon Bumple were most extraordinary. First he broke into a broad smile, then he began to giggle. Finally he burst into such prolonged roars of hearty laughter that we had to carry him into the next room and put him to bed. The doctor said afterwards that he probably would have died laughing if he had not had such a strong constitution. All through the night he gurgled happily in his sleep and even when we woke him up the next morning, he rolled out of bed still chuckling. Returning to the reception room, we were shown some red roots which Long Arrow told us had the property when made into a soup with sugar and salt of causing people to dance with extraordinary speed and endurance. He asked us to try them but we refuse thanking him. After Bumple's exhibition, we were a little afraid of any more experiments for the present. There was no end to the curious and useful things that Long Arrow had collected and oil from a vine which would make hair grow in one night and orange as big as a pumpkin which he had raised in his own mountain garden in Peru. A black honey, he had brought the bees that made it too and the seeds of the flowers they fed on which would put you to sleep just with a teaspoonful and make you wake up fresh in the morning. A nut that made the voice beautiful for singing. A water weed that stopped cuts from bleeding. A moss that cured a snake bite. A lichen that prevented seasickness. The doctor of course was tremendously interested. Well into the early hours of the morning he was busy going over the articles on the table one by one, listing their names and writing their properties and descriptions into a notebook as Long Arrow dictated. There are things here, Stoëns. He said as he ended. Which in the hands of skilled druggists will make a vast difference to the medicine and chemistry of the world. I suspect that this sleeping honey by itself will take the place of half the bad drugs we have had to use so far. Long Arrow has discovered a pharmacopoeia of his own. Miranda was right. He is a great naturalist. His name deserves to be placed beside Linnaeus. Some day I must get all these things to England. But when? He added sadly. Yes, that's the problem. When? Into part six, chapter three. Part six, chapters four to six of The Voices of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofty. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter four, The Sea Serpent. For a long time after that cabinet meeting of which I have just told you, we did not ask the doctor anything further about going home. Life in Spider Monkey Island went forward month in, month out, visibly and pleasantly. The winter with Christmas celebrations came and went and summer was with us once again before we knew it. As time passed the doctor became more and more taken up with the care of his big family and the hours he could spare for his natural history work grew fewer and fewer. I knew that he often still thought of his house and garden in Puttleby and of his old plans and ambitions because once in a while we would notice his face grow thoughtful and a little sad when something reminded him of England or his old life. But he never spoke of these things and I truly believe he would have spent the remainder of his days on Spider Monkey Island if it hadn't been for an accident and for Polynesia. The old parrot had grown very tired of the Indians and she made no secret of it. The very idea. She said to me one day as we were walking on the seashore. The idea of the famous John Doolittle spending his valuable life waiting on these greasy natives. Why it's preposterous. All that morning we had been watching the doctor superintend the building of the new theater in Popsapettle. There was already an opera house and a concert hall and finally she had got so grouchy and annoyed at the sight that I had suggested her taking a walk with me. Do you really think? I asked as we sat down on the sands that he will never go back to Puttleby again. I don't know. Said she. At one time I felt sure that the thought of the pets he had left behind at the house would take him home soon. But since Miranda brought him word last August that everything was all right there, that hope's gone. For months and months I've been racking my brains to think up a plan. If we could only hit upon something that would turn his thoughts back to natural history again. I mean something big enough to get him really excited. We might manage it. But how? She shrugged her shoulders and discussed. How? When all he thinks of now is paving streets and teaching papooses that twice one or two. It was a perfect Popsapettle day. Bright and hot, blue and yellow. Growsily I looked out to the sea thinking of my mother and father. I wondered if they were getting anxious over my long absence. Beside me old Polynesia went on grumbling away in low steady tones. And her words began to mingle and mix with the gentle lapping of the waves upon the shore. It may have been the even murmur of her voice helped by the soft and balmy air that lulled me to sleep. I don't know. Anyhow I presently dreamed that the island had moved again, not floatingly as before, but suddenly, jerkily, as though something enormously powerful had heaped it up from its bed just once and let it down. How long I slept after that, I have no idea. I was awakened by gentle pecking on the nose. 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. Shh, look! whispered Polynesia, putting out to sea. Still only half awake, I stared before me with bleary sleep-laden eyes. And in the shallow water, not more than 30 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 fidget 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 moon, 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 sparkled with delight. I had not seen him so thrilled and happy since the time we caught the Jabrizy beetle when we first landed on the island. It is he. He whispered it. The great glass sea snail himself, not a doubt of it. Polynesia, go down the shore away 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 stubborns, you go over to the harbour 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 and whispers 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 harbour, I picked out a small light canoe from among the number that were lying there and without telling anyone 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 the 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 Doodle. 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. He covered up the deep hole when he sank the island. Well, yes, he let it right down 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 in by the tailors as he were 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 earthquake shock about an hour ago? Yes, I did, said the doctor. It shook down part of the theater 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 the 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 the soft beach handy, he called 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 poor fishes. Because none of us can speak in his language. But we swam right around him on our way in here. And he didn't 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 frivolously 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 poor fishes. 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 poor fishes. We'll see what can be done. Chapter five. The shellfish riddle solved at last. So Dr. Doodle, with a crown on his head, sat down upon the shore like king Knapped 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 are curious where 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 helpful 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 get 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 the shell, and found that we could in this way hear the sound of his voice quite plainly. It was, as the fidget 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 practiced for a while like this, he linked 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 onto the dry part of the beach and let me examine his tail. Will you please go back to the town and tell the workman to stop working on the theatre for today? Then go onto 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 a 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 Doodaloo was examining a swelling on his tail. From the bag which I had brought, the doctor took a large bottle of invocation and began rubbing the spray. 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 Bumper 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 someone 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 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 would be for your time, but he, while 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 Travelling 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. I'll bother the theatre, and the babies too. Snap to 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. Chapter six, the last cabinet meeting. From the way Polynesia talked, I guess that this idea of a holiday was part of her plan. The doctor made no reply, and we walked on silently towards the town. I could see, nevertheless, that her words had made an impression on him. After supper he disappeared from the palace without saying where he was going, a thing he had never done before. Of course we all knew where he had gone, back to the beach to sit up with the snail. We were sure of it because he had said nothing to Bumper about attending to the matter. As soon as the doors were closed upon the cabinet meeting that night, Polynesia addressed the ministry. Look here, you fellows, said Sheen. We've simply got to get the doctor to take this holiday somehow, unless we're willing to stay in this blessed island for the rest of our lives. But what difference? Bumper asked. He's taking all that they're going to make. Impatiently Polynesia turned upon the minister of the interior. Don't you see? If he has a clear wick to get thoroughly interested in his natural history again, marine stuff, his dream of seeing the floor of the ocean and all that, there may be some chance of his consenting to leave this pesky place. But while he is here on duty as king, he never gets a moment to think of anything outside the business of government. Yes, that is true. He is far too conscientious. Bumper agreed. And besides? Polynesia went on. His only hope of ever getting away from here would be to escape secretly. He's got to leave while he is holiday making, incognito, when no one knows where he is or what he's doing but us. If he built a ship big enough to cross the sea in, all the Indians would see it and hear it being built and they'd ask what it was for. They would interfere. They'd sooner have anything happen than lose the doctor. Why, I believe if they thought he had any idea of escaping, they'd put chains on him. Yes, I really think they would. I agreed. Yet without a ship of some kind, I don't see how the doctor is going to get away even secretly. Well, I'll tell you. Said Polynesia. If we do succeed in making him take this holiday, our next step will be to get the sea snail to promise to take us all in his shell and carry us to the mouth of Puddlebee River. If we can once get the snail willing, the temptation will be too much for John Doolittle and he'll come, I know, especially as he'll be able to take those new plants and drugs of long arrows to the English doctors as well as see the floor of the ocean on the way. How thrilling! I cried. Do you mean the snail could take us under the sea all the way back to Puddlebee? Certainly. Said Polynesia. A little trip like that is nothing to him. He would crawl along the floor of the ocean and the doctor could see all the sights. Perfectly simple. Oh, John Doolittle will come all right if we can only get him to take that holiday and if the snail will consent to give us the ride. Golly, I hope he does. Side-jip. I'm sick of these beastly tropics. They make you feel so lazy and good for nothing and there are no rats or anything here. Not that a fellow would have the energy to chase him even if there were. My, wouldn't I be glad to see old Puddlebee in the garden again and won't Dad-Dab be glad to have us back? By the end of next month. Said I. It will be two whole years since we left England. Since we pulled up the anchor at Kingsbridge and bumped our way out into the river. And got stuck on the mud bank. And a chee-chee and a dreamy faraway voice. Do you remember how all the people waved to us from the river wall? I asked. Yes, and I suppose they've often talked about us in the town since. Said Jip. Wondering whether we're dead or alive. Oh, sis. Said Bumpo. I feel I am about to weep from sediment. In the part six, chapter six.