by Hugh Lofting
“‘Now for it!’ I thought to myself. ‘We’ll soon know our fate: liberty or the garbage-can.’
“Outside, to our unspeakable horror, he made straight for a large ash-barrel which stood against the wall on the other side of a yard. Most happily for us, however, while he was crossing this yard a very dirty man with a wagon and horses drove up and took the ash-barrel away. I suppose it was his property.
“Then the old man looked around for some other place to throw us. He seemed about to cast us upon the ground. But he evidently thought that this would make the yard untidy and he desisted. The suspense was terrible. He moved outside the yard-gate and my heart sank once more as I saw that he now intended to throw us in the gutter of the roadway. But (fortune was indeed with us that day), a large man in blue clothes and silver buttons stopped him in the nick of time. Evidently, from the way the large man lectured and waved a short thick stick, it was against the rules of the town to throw dead fish in the streets.
“At last, to our unutterable joy, the old man turned and moved off with us towards the harbor. He walked so slowly, muttering to himself all the way and watching the man in blue out of the corner of his eye, that I wanted to bite his finger to make him hurry up. Both Clippa and I were actually at our last gasp.
“Finally he reached the sea-wall and giving us one last sad look he dropped us into the waters of the harbor.
“Never had we realized anything like the thrill of that moment, as we felt the salt wetness close over our heads. With one flick of our tails we came to life again. The old man was so surprised that he fell right into the water, almost on top of us. From this he was rescued by a sailor with a boat-hook; and the last we saw of him, the man in blue was dragging him away by the coat-collar, lecturing him again. Apparently it was also against the rules of the town to throw dead fish into the harbor.
“But we?—What time or thought had we for his troubles? _We were free!_ In lightning leaps, in curving spurts, in crazy zig-zags—whooping, shrieking with delight, we sped for home and the open sea!
“That is all of my story and I will now, as I promised last night, try to answer any questions you may ask about the sea, on condition that I am set at liberty as soon as you have done.”
_The Doctor:_ “Is there any part of the sea deeper than that known as the Nero Deep—I mean the one near the Island of Guam?”
_The Fidgit:_ “Why, certainly. There’s one much deeper than that near the mouth of the Amazon River. But it’s small and hard to find. We call it ‘The Deep Hole.’ And there’s another in the Antarctic Sea.”
_The Doctor:_ “Can you talk any shellfish language yourself?”
_The Fidgit:_ “No, not a word. We regular fishes don’t have anything to do with the shellfish. We consider them a low class.”
_The Doctor:_ “But when you’re near them, can you hear the sound they make talking—I mean without necessarily understanding what they say?”
_The Fidgit:_ “Only with the very largest ones. Shellfish have such weak small voices it is almost impossible for any but their own kind to hear them. But with the bigger ones it is different. They make a sad, booming noise, rather like an iron pipe being knocked with a stone—only not nearly so loud of course.”
_The Doctor:_ “I am most anxious to get down to the bottom of the sea—to study many things. But we land animals, as you no doubt know, are unable to breathe under water. Have you any ideas that might help me?”
_The Fidgit:_ “I think that for both your difficulties the best thing for you to do would be to try and get hold of the Great Glass Sea Snail.”
_The Doctor:_ “Er—who, or what, is the Great Glass Sea Snail?”
_The Fidgit:_ “He is an enormous salt-water snail, one of the winkle family, but as large as a big house. He talks quite loudly—when he speaks, but this is not often. He can go to any part of the ocean, at all depths because he doesn’t have to be afraid of any creature in the sea. His shell is made of transparent mother-o’-pearl so that you can see through it; but it’s thick and strong. When he is out of his shell and he carries it empty on his back, there is room in it for a wagon and a pair of horses. He has been seen carrying his food in it when traveling.”
_The Doctor:_ “I feel that that is just the creature I have been looking for. He could take me and my assistant inside his shell and we could explore the deepest depths in safety. Do you think you could get him for me?”
_The Fidgit:_ “Alas! no. I would willingly if I could; but he is hardly ever seen by ordinary fish. He lives at the bottom of the Deep Hole, and seldom comes out—And into the Deep Hole, the lower waters of which are muddy, fishes such as we are afraid to go.”
_The Doctor:_ “Dear me! That’s a terrible disappointment. Are there many of this kind of snail in the sea?”
_The Fidgit:_ “Oh no. He is the only one in existence, since his second wife died long, long ago. He is the last of the Giant Shellfish. He belongs to past ages when the whales were land-animals and all that. They say he is over seventy thousand years old.”
_The Doctor:_ “Good Gracious, what wonderful things he could tell me! I do wish I could meet him.”
_The Fidgit:_ “Were there any more questions you wished to ask me? This water in your tank is getting quite warm and sickly. I’d like to be put back into the sea as soon as you can spare me.”
_The Doctor:_ “Just one more thing: when Christopher Columbus crossed the Atlantic in 1492, he threw overboard two copies of his diary sealed up in barrels. One of them was never found. It must have sunk. I would like to get it for my library. Do you happen to know where it is?”
_The Fidgit:_ “Yes, I do. That too is in the Deep Hole. When the barrel sank the currents drifted it northwards down what we call the Orinoco Slope, till it finally disappeared into the Deep Hole. If it was any other part of the sea I’d try and get it for you; but not there.”
_The Doctor:_ “Well, that is all, I think. I hate to put you back into the sea, because I know that as soon as I do, I’ll think of a hundred other questions I wanted to ask you. But I must keep my promise. Would you care for anything before you go?—it seems a cold day—some cracker-crumbs or something?”
_The Fidgit:_ “No, I won’t stop. All I want just at present is fresh sea-water.”
_The Doctor:_ “I cannot thank you enough for all the information you have given me. You have been very helpful and patient.”
_The Fidgit:_ “Pray do not mention it. It has been a real pleasure to be of assistance to the great John Dolittle. You are, as of course you know, already quite famous among the better class of fishes. Goodbye!—and good luck to you, to your ship and to all your plans!”
The Doctor carried the listening-tank to a port-hole, opened it andemptied the tank into the sea.
“Good-bye!” he murmured as a faint splash reached us from without.
I dropped my pencil on the table and leaned back with a sigh. Myfingers were so stiff with writers’ cramp that I felt as though Ishould never be able to open my hand again. But I, at least, had hada night’s sleep. As for the poor Doctor, he was so weary that he hadhardly put the tank back upon the table and dropped into a chair, whenhis eyes closed and he began to snore.
In the passage outside Polynesia scratched angrily at the door. I roseand let her in.
“A nice state of affairs!” she stormed. “What sort of a ship is this?There’s that colored man upstairs asleep under the wheel; the Doctorasleep down here; and you making pot-hooks in a copybook with apencil! Expect the ship to steer herself to Brazil? We’re just driftingaround the sea like an empty bottle—and a we
ek behind time as it is.What’s happened to you all?”
She was so angry that her voice rose to a scream. But it would havetaken more than that to wake the Doctor.
I put the note-book carefully in a drawer and went on deck to take thewheel.
_THE THIRD CHAPTER_
BAD WEATHER
AS soon as I had the _Curlew_ swung round upon her course again Inoticed something peculiar: we were not going as fast as we had been.Our favorable wind had almost entirely disappeared.
This, at first, we did not worry about, thinking that at any moment itmight spring up again. But the whole day went by; then two days; thena week,—ten days, and the wind grew no stronger. The _Curlew_ justdawdled along at the speed of a toddling babe.
I now saw that the Doctor was becoming uneasy. He kept getting out hissextant (an instrument which tells you what part of the ocean you arein) and making calculations. He was forever looking at his maps andmeasuring distances on them. The far edge of the sea, all around us, heexamined with his telescope a hundred times a day.
“But Doctor,” I said when I found him one afternoon mumbling to himselfabout the misty appearance of the sky, “it wouldn’t matter so much,would it, if we did take a little longer over the trip? We’ve gotplenty to eat on board now; and the Purple Bird-of-Paradise will knowthat we have been delayed by something that we couldn’t help.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said thoughtfully. “But I hate to keep herwaiting. At this season of the year she generally goes to the Peruvianmountains—for her health. And besides, the good weather she prophesiedis likely to end any day now and delay us still further. If we couldonly keep moving at even a fair speed, I wouldn’t mind. It’s thishanging around, almost dead still, that gets me restless—Ah, here comesa wind—Not very strong—but maybe it’ll grow.”
A gentle breeze from the Northeast came singing through the ropes; andwe smiled up hopefully at the _Curlew’s_ leaning masts.
“We’ve only got another hundred and fifty miles to make, to sight thecoast of Brazil,” said the Doctor. “If that wind would just stay withus, steady, for a full day we’d see land.”
But suddenly the wind changed, swung to the East, then back to theNortheast—then to the North. It came in fitful gusts, as though ithadn’t made up its mind which way to blow; and I was kept busy at thewheel, swinging the _Curlew_ this way and that to keep the right sideof it.
Presently we heard Polynesia, who was in the rigging keeping a look-outfor land or passing ships, screech down to us,
“Bad weather coming. That jumpy wind is an ugly sign. And look!—overthere in the East—see that black line, low down? If that isn’t astorm I’m a land-lubber. The gales round here are fierce, when theydo blow—tear your canvas out like paper. You take the wheel, Doctor:it’ll need a strong arm if it’s a real storm. I’ll go wake Bumpo andChee-Chee. This looks bad to me. We’d best get all the sail down rightaway, till we see how strong she’s going to blow.”
Indeed the whole sky was now beginning to take on a very threateninglook. The black line to the eastward grew blacker as it came nearerand nearer. A low, rumbly, whispering noise went moaning over the sea.The water which had been so blue and smiling turned to a ruffled uglygray. And across the darkening sky, shreds of cloud swept like tatteredwitches flying from the storm.
I must confess I was frightened. You see I had only so far seen thesea in friendly moods: sometimes quiet and lazy; sometimes laughing,venturesome and reckless; sometimes brooding and poetic, when moonbeamsturned her ripples into silver threads and dreaming snowy night-cloudspiled up fairy-castles in the sky. But as yet I had not known, or evenguessed at, the terrible strength of the Sea’s wild anger.
When that storm finally struck us we leaned right over flatly on ourside, as though some invisible giant had slapped the poor _Curlew_ onthe cheek.
After that things happened so thick and so fast that what with the windthat stopped your breath, the driving, blinding water, the deafeningnoise and the rest, I haven’t a very clear idea of how our shipwreckcame about.
I remember seeing the sails, which we were now trying to roll up uponthe deck, torn out of our hands by the wind and go overboard like apenny balloon—very nearly carrying Chee-Chee with them. And I have adim recollection of Polynesia screeching somewhere for one of us to godownstairs and close the port-holes.
In spite of our masts being bare of sail we were now scudding alongto the southward at a great pace. But every once in a while hugegray-black waves would arise from under the ship’s side like nightmaremonsters, swell and climb, then crash down upon us, pressing us intothe sea; and the poor _Curlew_ would come to a standstill, half underwater, like a gasping, drowning pig.
While I was clambering along towards the wheel to see the Doctor,clinging like a leech with hands and legs to the rails lest I be blownoverboard, one of these tremendous seas tore loose my hold, filled mythroat with water and swept me like a cork the full length of the deck.My head struck a door with an awful bang. And then I fainted.
_THE FOURTH CHAPTER_
WRECKED!
WHEN I awoke I was very hazy in my head. The sky was blue and the seawas calm. At first I thought that I must have fallen asleep in the sunon the deck of the _Curlew_. And thinking that I would be late for myturn at the wheel, I tried to rise to my feet. I found I couldn’t; myarms were tied to something behind me with a piece of rope. By twistingmy neck around I found this to be a mast, broken off short. Then Irealized that I wasn’t sitting on a ship at all; I was only sitting ona piece of one. I began to feel uncomfortably scared. Screwing up myeyes, I searched the rim of the sea North, East, South and West: noland: no ships; nothing was in sight. I was alone in the ocean!
At last, little by little, my bruised head began to remember what hadhappened: first, the coming of the storm; the sails going overboard;then the big wave which had banged me against the door. But what hadbecome of the Doctor and the others? What day was this, to-morrow orthe day after?—And why was I sitting on only part of a ship?
“I was alone in the ocean!”]
Working my hand into my pocket, I found my penknife and cut the ropethat tied me. This reminded me of a shipwreck story which Joe had oncetold me, of a captain who had tied his son to a mast in order that heshouldn’t be washed overboard by the gale. So of course it must havebeen the Doctor who had done the same to me.
But where was he?
The awful thought came to me that the Doctor and the rest ofthem must be drowned, since there was no other wreckage to beseen upon the waters. I got to my feet and stared around the seaagain—Nothing—nothing but water and sky!
Presently a long way off I saw the small dark shape of a bird skimminglow down over the swell. When it came quite close I saw it was a StormyPetrel. I tried to talk to it, to see if it could give me news. Butunluckily I hadn’t learned much seabird language and I couldn’t evenattract its attention, much less make it understand what I wanted.
Twice it circled round my raft, lazily, with hardly a flip of thewing. And I could not help wondering, in spite of the distress I wasin, where it had spent last night—how it, or any other living thing,had weathered such a smashing storm. It made me realize the great bigdifference between different creatures; and that size and strength arenot everything. To this petrel, a frail little thing of feathers, muchsmaller and weaker than I, the Sea could do anything she liked, itseemed; and his only answer was a lazy, saucy flip of the wing! _He_was the one who should be called the _able seaman_. For, come raginggale, come sunlit calm, this wilderness of water was his home.
After swooping over the sea around me (just looking for food, Isupposed) he went off in the direction from which he had come. And Iwas alone once more.
I found I was somewhat hungry—and a little thirsty too. I began tothink all sorts of miserable thoughts, the way one does when he islonesome and has missed breakfast. What was going to become of me now,if the Doctor and the rest were drowned? I would starve to death ordie of thirst. Then t
he sun went behind some clouds and I felt cold.How many hundreds or thousands of miles was I from any land? What ifanother storm should come and smash up even this poor raft on which Istood?
I went on like this for a while, growing gloomier and gloomier, whensuddenly I thought of Polynesia. “You’re always safe with the Doctor,”she had said. “He gets there. Remember that.”
I’m sure I wouldn’t have minded so much if he had been here with me. Itwas this being all alone that made me want to weep. And yet the petrelwas alone!—What a baby I was, I told myself, to be scared to the vergeof tears just by loneliness! I was quite safe where I was—for thepresent anyhow. John Dolittle wouldn’t get scared by a little thinglike this. He only got excited when he made a discovery, found a newbug or something. And if what Polynesia had said was true, he couldn’tbe drowned and things would come out all right in the end somehow.
I threw out my chest, buttoned up my collar and began walking up anddown the short raft to keep warm. I would be like John Dolittle. Iwouldn’t cry—And I wouldn’t get excited.
How long I paced back and forth I don’t know. But it was a longtime—for I had nothing else to do.
At last I got tired and lay down to rest. And in spite of all mytroubles, I soon fell fast asleep.
This time when I woke up, stars were staring down at me out of acloudless sky. The sea was still calm; and my strange craft was rockinggently under me on an easy swell. All my fine courage left me as Igazed up into the big silent night and felt the pains of hunger andthirst set to work in my stomach harder than ever.
