“Yes, that’s true. He’s far too consententious,” Bumpo 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 would 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 Puddleby River. If we can once get the snail willing, the temptation will be too much for John Dolittle and he’ll come, I know—especially as he’ll be able to take those new plants and drugs of Long Arrow’s 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 Puddleby?”
“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 Dolittle 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!” sighed 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 ’em even if there were. My, wouldn’t I be glad to see old Puddleby and the garden again! And won’t Dab-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,” added Chee-Chee in 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.”
“Cease,” said Bumpo, “I feel I am about to weep from sediment.”
VII
The Doctor’s Decision
Well, you can guess how glad we were when next morning the Doctor, after his all-night conversation with the snail, told us that he had made up his mind to take the holiday. A proclamation was published right away by the Town Crier that His Majesty was going into the country for a seven-day rest, but that during his absence the palace and the government offices would be kept open as usual.
Polynesia was immensely pleased. She at once set quietly to work making arrangements for our departure—taking good care the while that no one should get an inkling of where we were going, what we were taking with us, the hour of our leaving or which of the palace-gates we would go out by.
Cunning old schemer that she was, she forgot nothing. And not even we, who were of the Doctor’s party, could imagine what reasons she had for some of her preparations. She took me inside and told me that the one thing I must remember to bring with me was all of the Doctor’s notebooks. Long Arrow, who was the only Indian let into the secret of our destination, said he would like to come with us as far as the beach to see the Great Snail; and him Polynesia told to be sure and bring his collection of plants. Bumpo she ordered to carry the Doctor’s high hat—carefully hidden under his coat. She sent off nearly all the footmen who were on night duty to do errands in the town, so that there should be as few servants as possible to see us leave. And midnight, the hour when most of the townspeople would be asleep, she finally chose for our departure.
We had to take a week’s food-supply with us for the royal holiday. So, with our other packages, we were heavy laden when on the stroke of twelve we opened the west door of the palace and stepped cautiously and quietly into the moonlit garden.
“Tiptoe incognito,” whispered Bumpo as we gently closed the heavy doors behind us.
No one had seen us leave.
At the foot of the stone steps leading from the Peacock Terrace to the Sunken Rosary, something made me pause and look back at the magnificent palace which we had built in this strange, far-off land where no white men but ourselves had ever come. Somehow I felt it in my bones that we were leaving it tonight never to return again. And I wondered what other kings and ministers would dwell in its splendid halls when we were gone. The air was hot; and everything was deadly still but for the gentle splashing of the tame flamingoes paddling in the lily-pond. Suddenly the twinkling lantern of a night watchman appeared round the corner of a cypress hedge. Polynesia plucked at my stocking and, in an impatient whisper, bade me hurry before our flight be discovered.
On our arrival at the beach we found the snail already feeling much better and now able to move his tail without pain.
The porpoises (who are by nature inquisitive creatures) were still hanging about in the offing to see if anything of
