The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle

Prologue
PART ONE
The First Chapter. The Cobbler's Son
The Second Chapter. I Hear of the Great Naturalist
The Third Chapter. The Doctor's Home
The Fourth Chapter. The Wiff-Waff
The Fifth Chapter. Polynesia
The Sixth Chapter. The Wounded Squirrel
The Seventh Chapter. Shellfish Talk
The Eighth Chapter. Are You a Good Noticer?
The Ninth Chapter. The Garden of Dreams
The Tenth Chapter. The Private Zoo
The Eleventh Chapter. My Schoolmaster, Polynesia
The Twelfth Chapter. My Great Idea
The Thirteenth Chapter. A Traveler Arrives
The Fourteenth Chapter. Chee-Chee's Voyage
The Fifteenth Chapter. I Become a Doctor's Assistant
PART TWO
The First Chapter. The Crew of "the Curlew"
The Second Chapter. Luke the Hermit
The Third Chapter. Jip and the Secret
The Fourth Chapter. Bob
The Fifth Chapter. Mendoza
The Sixth Chapter. The Judge's Dog
The Seventh Chapter. The End of the Mystery
The Eighth Chapter. Three Cheers
The Ninth Chapter. The Purple Bird-Of-Paradise
The Tenth Chapter. Long Arrow, the Son of Golden Arrow
The Eleventh Chapter. Blind Travel
The Twelfth Chapter. Destiny and Destination
PART THREE
The First Chapter. The Third Man
The Second Chapter. Good-Bye!
The Third Chapter. Our Troubles Begin
The Fourth Chapter. Our Troubles Continue
The Fifth Chapter. Polynesia Has a Plan
The Sixth Chapter. The Bed-Maker of Monteverde
The Seventh Chapter. The Doctor's Wager
The Eighth Chapter. The Great Bullfight
The Ninth Chapter. We Depart in a Hurry
PART FOUR
The First Chapter. Shellfish Languages Again
The Second Chapter. The Fidgit's Story
The Third Chapter. Bad Weather
The Fourth Chapter. Wrecked!
The Fifth Chapter. Land!
The Sixth Chapter. The Jabizri
The Seventh Chapter. Hawk's-Head Mountain
PART FIVE
The First Chapter. A Great Moment
The Second Chapter. "The Men of the Moving Land"
The Third Chapter. Fire
The Fourth Chapter. What Makes an Island Float
The Fifth Chapter. War!
The Sixth Chapter. General Polynesia
The Seventh Chapter. The Peace of the Parrots
The Eighth Chapter. The Hanging Stone
The Ninth Chapter. The Election
The Tenth Chapter. The Coronation of King Jong
PART SIX
The First Chapter. New Popsipetel
The Second Chapter. Thoughts of Home
The Third Chapter. The Red Man's Science
The Fourth Chapter. The Sea-Serpent
The Fifth Chapter. The Shellfish Riddle Solved At Last
The Sixth Chapter. The Last Cabinet Meeting
The Seventh Chapter. The Doctor's Decision

To
Colin
and
Elizabeth

ALL that I have written so far about Doctor Dolittle I heard long after
it happened from those who had known him—indeed a great deal of it took
place before I was born. But I now come to set down that part of the
great man's life which I myself saw and took part in.

Many years ago the Doctor gave me permission to do this. But we were
both of us so busy then voyaging around the world, having adventures and
filling note-books full of natural history that I never seemed to get
time to sit down and write of our doings.

Now of course, when I am quite an old man, my memory isn't so good
any more. But whenever I am in doubt and have to hesitate and think, I
always ask Polynesia, the parrot.

That wonderful bird (she is now nearly two hundred and fifty years old)
sits on the top of my desk, usually humming sailor songs to herself,
while I write this book. And, as every one who ever met her knows,
Polynesia's memory is the most marvelous memory in the world. If there
is any happening I am not quite sure of, she is always able to put
me right, to tell me exactly how it took place, who was there and
everything about it. In fact sometimes I almost think I ought to say
that this book was written by Polynesia instead of me.

Very well then, I will begin. And first of all I must tell you something
about myself and how I came to meet the Doctor.

MY name was Tommy Stubbins, son of Jacob Stubbins, the cobbler of
Puddleby-on-the-Marsh; and I was nine and a half years old. At that time
Puddleby was only quite a small town. A river ran through the middle
of it; and over this river there was a very old stone bridge, called
Kingsbridge, which led you from the market-place on one side to the
churchyard on the other.

Sailing-ships came up this river from the sea and anchored near the
bridge. I used to go down and watch the sailors unloading the ships upon
the river-wall. The sailors sang strange songs as they pulled upon
the ropes; and I learned these songs by heart. And I would sit on the
river-wall with my feet dangling over the water and sing with the men,
pretending to myself that I too was a sailor.

For I longed always to sail away with those brave ships when they turned
their backs on Puddleby Church and went creeping down the river again,
across the wide lonely marshes to the sea. I longed to go with them out
into the world to seek my fortune in foreign lands—Africa, India, China
and Peru! When they got round the bend in the river and the water was
hidden from view, you could still see their huge brown sails towering
over the roofs of the town, moving onward slowly—like some gentle
giants that walked among the houses without noise. What strange things
would they have seen, I wondered, when next they came back to anchor
at Kingsbridge! And, dreaming of the lands I had never seen, I'd sit on
there, watching till they were out of sight.

Three great friends I had in Puddleby in those days. One was Joe, the
mussel-man, who lived in a tiny hut by the edge of the water under the
bridge. This old man was simply marvelous at making things. I never
saw a man so clever with his hands. He used to mend my toy ships for me
which I sailed upon the river; he built windmills out of packing-cases
and barrel-staves; and he could make the most wonderful kites from old
umbrellas.

Joe would sometimes take me in his mussel-boat, and when the tide was
running out we would paddle down the river as far as the edge of the sea
to get mussels and lobsters to sell. And out there on the cold lonely
marshes we would see wild geese flying, and curlews and redshanks and
many other kinds of seabirds that live among the samfire and the
long grass of the great salt fen. And as we crept up the river in
the evening, when the tide had turned, we would see the lights on
Kingsbridge twinkle in the dusk, reminding us of tea-time and warm
fires.

Another friend I had was Matthew Mugg, the cat's-meat-man. He was a
funny old person with a bad squint. He looked rather awful but he was
really quite nice to talk to. He knew everybody in Puddleby; and he knew
all the dogs and all the cats. In those times being a cat's-meat-man was
a regular business. And you could see one nearly any day going through
the streets with a wooden tray full of pieces of meat stuck on skewers
crying, "Meat! M-E-A-T!" People paid him to give this meat to their cats
and dogs instead of feeding them on dog-biscuits or the scraps from the
table.

I enjoyed going round with old Matthew and seeing the cats and dogs come
running to the garden-gates whenever they heard his call. Sometimes he
let me give the meat to the animals myself; and I thought this was great
fun. He knew a lot about dogs and he would tell me the names of the
different kinds as we went through the town. He had several dogs of his
own; one, a whippet, was a very fast runner, and Matthew used to win
prizes with her at the Saturday coursing races; another, a terrier,
was a fine ratter. The cat's-meat-man used to make a business of
rat-catching for the millers and farmers as well as his other trade of
selling cat's-meat.

My third great friend was Luke the Hermit. But of him I will tell you
more later on.

I did not go to school; because my father was not rich enough to send
me. But I was extremely fond of animals. So I used to spend my time
collecting birds' eggs and butterflies, fishing in the river, rambling
through the countryside after blackberries and mushrooms and helping the
mussel-man mend his nets.

Yes, it was a very pleasant life I lived in those days long ago—though
of course I did not think so then. I was nine and a half years old; and,
like all boys, I wanted to grow up—not knowing how well off I was with
no cares and nothing to worry me. Always I longed for the time when I
should be allowed to leave my father's house, to take passage in one of
those brave ships, to sail down the river through the misty marshes to
the sea—out into the world to seek my fortune.

ONE early morning in the Springtime, when I was wandering among the
hills at the back of the town, I happened to come upon a hawk with a
squirrel in its claws. It was standing on a rock and the squirrel was
fighting very hard for its life. The hawk was so frightened when I came
upon it suddenly like this, that it dropped the poor creature and flew
away. I picked the squirrel up and found that two of its legs were badly
hurt. So I carried it in my arms back to the town.

When I came to the bridge I went into the musselman's hut and asked him
if he could do anything for it. Joe put on his spectacles and examined
it carefully. Then he shook his head.

"Yon crittur's got a broken leg," he said—"and another badly cut an'
all. I can mend you your boats, Tom, but I haven't the tools nor the
learning to make a broken squirrel seaworthy. This is a job for a
surgeon—and for a right smart one an' all. There be only one man I know
who could save yon crittur's life. And that's John Dolittle."

"Who is John Dolittle?" I asked. "Is he a vet?"

"No," said the mussel-man. "He's no vet. Doctor Dolittle is a
nacheralist."

"What's a nacheralist?"

"A nacheralist," said Joe, putting away his glasses and starting to
fill his pipe, "is a man who knows all about animals and butterflies and
plants and rocks an' all. John Dolittle is a very great nacheralist. I'm
surprised you never heard of him—and you daft over animals. He knows
a whole lot about shellfish—that I know from my own knowledge. He's
a quiet man and don't talk much; but there's folks who do say he's the
greatest nacheralist in the world."