The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (17 page)

"Then followed weeks and weeks of weary idleness. They treated us well,
so far as they knew how. The old fellows in spectacles came and looked
at us proudly twice a day and saw that we had the proper food to eat,
the right amount of light and that the water was not too hot or too
cold. But oh, the dullness of that life! It seemed we were a kind of a
show. At a certain hour every morning the big doors of the house were
thrown open and everybody in the city who had nothing special to do came
in and looked at us. There were other tanks filled with different kinds
of fishes all round the walls of the big room. And the crowds would go
from tank to tank, looking in at us through the glass—with their mouths
open, like half-witted flounders. We got so sick of it that we used
to open our mouths back at them; and this they seemed to think highly
comical.

"One day my sister said to me, 'Think you, Brother, that these strange
creatures who have captured us can talk?'

"'Surely,' said I, 'have you not noticed that some talk with the lips
only, some with the whole face, and yet others discourse with the hands?
When they come quite close to the glass you can hear them. Listen!'

"At that moment a female, larger than the rest, pressed her nose up
against the glass, pointed at me and said to her young behind her, 'Oh,
look, here's a queer one!'

"And then we noticed that they nearly always said this when they looked
in. And for a long time we thought that such was the whole extent of the
language, this being a people of but few ideas. To help pass away the
weary hours we learned it by heart, 'Oh, look, here's a queer one!' But
we never got to know what it meant. Other phrases, however, we did get
the meaning of; and we even learned to read a little in man-talk. Many
big signs there were, set up upon the walls; and when we saw that the
keepers stopped the people from spitting and smoking, pointed to these
signs angrily and read them out loud, we knew then that these writings
signified, 'No Smoking and Don't Spit.' Then in the evenings, after the
crowd had gone, the same aged male with one leg of wood, swept up the
peanut-shells with a broom every night. And while he was so doing he
always whistled the same tune to himself. This melody we rather liked;
and we learned that too by heart—thinking it was part of the language.

"Thus a whole year went by in this dismal place. Some days new fishes
were brought in to the other tanks; and other days old fishes were taken
out. At first we had hoped we would only be kept here for a while, and
that after we had been looked at sufficiently we would be returned to
freedom and the sea. But as month after month went by, and we were left
undisturbed, our hearts grew heavy within our prison-walls of glass and
we spoke to one another less and less.

"One day, when the crowd was thickest in the big room, a woman with a
red face fainted from the heat. I watched through the glass and saw that
the rest of the people got highly excited—though to me it did not seem
to be a matter of very great importance. They threw cold water on her
and carried her out into the open air.

"This made me think mightily; and presently a great idea burst upon me.

"'Sister,' I said, turning to poor Clippa who was sulking at the bottom
of our prison trying to hide behind a stone from the stupid gaze of the
children who thronged about our tank, 'supposing that we pretended we
were sick: do you think they would take us also from this stuffy house?'

"'Brother,' said she wearily, 'that they might do. But most likely they
would throw us on a rubbish-heap, where we would die in the hot sun.'

"'But,' said I, 'why should they go abroad to seek a rubbish-heap,
when the harbor is so close? While we were being brought here I saw men
throwing their rubbish into the water. If they would only throw us also
there, we could quickly reach the sea.'

"'The Sea!' murmured poor Clippa with a faraway look in her eyes (she
had fine eyes, had my sister, Clippa). 'How like a dream it sounds—the
Sea! Oh brother, will we ever swim in it again, think you? Every night
as I lie awake on the floor of this evil-smelling dungeon I hear its
hearty voice ringing in my ears. How I have longed for it! Just to feel
it once again, the nice, big, wholesome homeliness of it all! To jump,
just to jump from the crest of an Atlantic wave, laughing in the trade
wind's spindrift, down into the blue-green swirling trough! To chase
the shrimps on a summer evening, when the sky is red and the light's all
pink within the foam! To lie on the top, in the doldrums' noonday calm,
and warm your tummy in the tropic sun! To wander hand in hand once
more through the giant seaweed forests of the Indian Ocean, seeking the
delicious eggs of the pop-pop! To play hide-and-seek among the castles
of the coral towns with their pearl and jasper windows spangling the
floor of the Spanish Main! To picnic in the anemone-meadows, dim blue
and lilac-gray, that lie in the lowlands beyond the South Sea Garden!
To throw somersaults on the springy sponge-beds of the Mexican Gulf! To
poke about among the dead ships and see what wonders and adventures lie
inside!—And then, on winter nights when the Northeaster whips the water
into froth, to swoop down and down to get away from the cold, down to
where the water's warm and dark, down and still down, till we spy the
twinkle of the fire-eels far below where our friends and cousins sit
chatting round the Council Grotto—chatting, Brother, over the news and
gossip of THE SEA!... Oh—'

"And then she broke down completely, sniffling.

"'Stop it!' I said. 'You make me homesick. Look here: let's pretend
we're sick—or better still, let's pretend we're dead; and see what
happens. If they throw us on a rubbish-heap and we fry in the sun, we'll
not be much worse off than we are here in this smelly prison. What do
you say? Will you risk it?'

"'I will,' she said—'and gladly.'

"So next morning two fidgits were found by the keeper floating on the
top of the water in their tank, stiff and dead. We gave a mighty good
imitation of dead fish—although I say it myself. The keeper ran and
got the old gentlemen with spectacles and whiskers. They threw up their
hands in horror when they saw us. Lifting us carefully out of the water
they laid us on wet cloths. That was the hardest part of all. If you're
a fish and get taken out of the water you have to keep opening and
shutting your mouth to breathe at all—and even that you can't keep up
for long. And all this time we had to stay stiff as sticks and breathe
silently through half-closed lips.

"Well, the old fellows poked us and felt us and pinched us till I
thought they'd never be done. Then, when their backs were turned a
moment, a wretched cat got up on the table and nearly ate us. Luckily
the old men turned round in time and shooed her away. You may be sure
though that we took a couple of good gulps of air while they weren't
looking; and that was the only thing that saved us from choking. I
wanted to whisper to Clippa to be brave and stick it out. But I couldn't
even do that; because, as you know, most kinds of fish-talk cannot be
heard—not even a shout—unless you're under water.

"Then, just as we were about to give it up and let on that we were
alive, one of the old men shook his head sadly, lifted us up and carried
us out of the building.

"'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!"