“Oh, didn’t you know?—Haven’t you heard?” the porpoises replied: “you covered up the Deep Hole when you sank the island. Why yes: you let it down right 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 him by the tail just as he was 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 an earthquake shock about an hour ago?”
“Yes I did,” said the Doctor, “it shook down part of the theatre 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 that 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 this soft beach handy he crawled 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 porpoises; “because none of us can speak his language. But we swam right around him on our way in here, and he did not 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 most frightfully 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 porpoises. “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 porpoises, “we’ll see what can be done.”
V
The Shellfish Riddle Solved at Last
So Doctor Dolittle with a crown on his head sat down upon the shore like King Knut, 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 and curious were 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 hopeful 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 go 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 his shell and found that we could in this way hear the sound of his voice quite plainly. It was, as the fidgit 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 practised for a while like this he leant 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
