“No, it isn’t all right,” said the Doctor, “it’s all wrong. And I’m notat all glad to see you. I told you in Puddleby I didn’t want you. Youhad no right to come.”
“But Captain,” said the able seaman, “you can’t sail this ship withoutme. You don’t understand navigation. Why, look at the compass now:you’ve let her swing a point and a half off her course. It’s madnessfor you to try to do this trip alone—if you’ll pardon my saying so,Sir. Why—why, you’ll lose the ship!”
“Look here,” said the Doctor, a sudden stern look coming into hiseyes, “losing a ship is nothing to me. I’ve lost ships before and itdoesn’t bother me in the least. When I set out to go to a place, I getthere. Do you understand? I may know nothing whatever about sailingand navigation, but I get there just the same. Now you may be the bestseaman in the world, but on _this_ ship you’re just a plain ordinarynuisance—very plain and very ordinary. And I am now going to call atthe nearest port and put you ashore.”
“Yes, and think yourself lucky,” Polynesia put in, “that you are notlocked up for stowing away and eating all our salt beef.”
“I don’t know what the mischief we’re going to do now,” I heard herwhisper to Bumpo. “We’ve no money to buy any more; and that salt beefwas the most important part of the stores.”
“Would it not be good political economy,” Bumpo whispered back, “ifwe salted the able seaman and ate him instead? I should judge that hewould weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds.”
“How often must I tell you that we are not in Jolliginki,” snappedPolynesia. “Those things are not done on white men’s ships—Still,” shemurmured after a moment’s thought, “it’s an awfully bright idea. Idon’t suppose anybody saw him come on to the ship—Oh, but Heavens! wehaven’t got enough salt. Besides, he’d be sure to taste of tobacco.”
_THE FIFTH CHAPTER_
POLYNESIA HAS A PLAN
THEN the Doctor told me to take the wheel while he made a littlecalculation with his map and worked out what new course we should take.
“I shall have to run for the Capa Blancas after all,” he told me whenthe seaman’s back was turned. “Dreadful nuisance! But I’d sooner swimback to Puddleby than have to listen to that fellow’s talk all the wayto Brazil.”
Indeed he was a terrible person, this Ben Butcher. You’d think that anyone after being told he wasn’t wanted would have had the decency tokeep quiet. But not Ben Butcher. He kept going round the deck pointingout all the things we had wrong. According to him there wasn’t a thingright on the whole ship. The anchor was hitched up wrong; the hatchesweren’t fastened down properly; the sails were put on back to front;all our knots were the wrong kind of knots.
At last the Doctor told him to stop talking and go downstairs. Herefused—said he wasn’t going to be sunk by landlubbers while he wasstill able to stay on deck.
This made us feel a little uneasy. He was such an enormous man therewas no knowing what he might do if he got really obstreperous.
Bumpo and I were talking about this downstairs in the dining-saloonwhen Polynesia, Jip and Chee-Chee came and joined us. And, as usual,Polynesia had a plan.
“Listen,” she said, “I am certain this Ben Butcher is a smuggler and abad man. I am a very good judge of seamen, remember, and I don’t likethe cut of this man’s jib. I—”
“Do you really think,” I interrupted, “that it _is_ safe for the Doctorto cross the Atlantic without any regular seamen on his ship?”
You see it had upset me quite a good deal to find that all the thingswe had been doing were wrong; and I was beginning to wonder what mighthappen if we ran into a storm—particularly as Miranda had only said theweather would be good for a certain time; and we seemed to be having somany delays. But Polynesia merely tossed her head scornfully.
“Oh, bless you, my boy,” said she, “you’re always safe with JohnDolittle. Remember that. Don’t take any notice of that stupid old salt.Of course it is perfectly true the Doctor does do everything wrong. Butwith him it doesn’t matter. Mark my words, if you travel with JohnDolittle you always get there, as you heard him say. I’ve been with himlots of times and I know. Sometimes the ship is upside down when youget there, and sometimes it’s right way up. But you get there just thesame. And then of course there’s another thing about the Doctor,” sheadded thoughtfully: “he always has extraordinary good luck. He may havehis troubles; but with him things seem to have a habit of turning outall right in the end. I remember once when we were going through theStraits of Magellan the wind was so strong—”
“But what are we going to do about Ben Butcher?” Jip put in. “You hadsome plan Polynesia, hadn’t you?”
“Yes. What I’m afraid of is that he may hit the Doctor on the head whenhe’s not looking and make himself captain of the _Curlew_. Bad sailorsdo that sometimes. Then they run the ship their own way and take itwhere they want. That’s what you call a mutiny.”
“Yes,” said Jip, “and we ought to do something pretty quick. We can’treach the Capa Blancas before the day after to-morrow at best. I don’tlike to leave the Doctor alone with him for a minute. He smells like avery bad man to me.”
“Well, I’ve got it all worked out,” said Polynesia. “Listen: is there akey in that door?”
We looked outside the dining-room and found that there was.
“All right,” said Polynesia. “Now Bumpo lays the table for lunch andwe all go and hide. Then at twelve o’clock Bumpo rings the dinner-belldown here. As soon as Ben hears it he’ll come down expecting more saltbeef. Bumpo must hide behind the door outside. The moment that Ben isseated at the dining-table Bumpo slams the door and locks it. Thenwe’ve got him. See?”
“How stratagenious!” Bumpo chuckled. “As Cicero said, _parrots cumparishioners facilime congregation_. I’ll lay the table at once.”
“Yes and take that Worcestershire sauce off the dresser with you whenyou go out,” said Polynesia. “Don’t leave any loose eatables around.That fellow has had enough to last any man for three days. Besides, hewon’t be so inclined to start a fight when we put him ashore at theCapa Blancas if we thin him down a bit before we let him out.”
So we all went and hid ourselves in the passage where we could watchwhat happened. And presently Bumpo came to the foot of the stairs andrang the dinner-bell like mad. Then he hopped behind the dining-roomdoor and we all kept still and listened.
Almost immediately, _thump_, _thump_, _thump_, down the stairs trampedBen Butcher, the able seaman. He walked into the dining-saloon, sathimself down at the head of the table in the Doctor’s place, tucked anapkin under his fat chin and heaved a sigh of expectation.
Then, _bang_! Bumpo slammed the door and locked it.
“That settles _him_ for a while,” said Polynesia coming out from herhiding-place. “Now let him teach navigation to the side-board. Gosh,the cheek of the man! I’ve forgotten more about the sea than thatlumbering lout will ever know. Let’s go upstairs and tell the Doctor.Bumpo, you will have to serve the meals in the cabin for the nextcouple of days.”
And bursting into a rollicking Norwegian sea-song, she climbed up to myshoulder and we went on deck.
_THE SIXTH CHAPTER_
THE BED-MAKER OF MONTEVERDE
WE remained three days in the Capa Blanca Islands.
There were two reasons why we stayed there so long when we were reallyin such a hurry to get away. One was the shortage in our provisionscaused by the able seaman’s enormous appetite. When we came to go overthe stores and make a list, we found that he had eaten a whole lot ofother things besides the beef. And having no money, we were sorelypuzzled how to buy more. The Doctor went through his trunk to see ifthere was anything he could sell. But the only thing he could findwas an old watch with the hands broken and the back dented in; and wedecided this would not bring us in enough money to buy much more than apound of tea. Bumpo suggested that he sing comic songs in the streetswhich he had learned in Jolliginki. But the Doctor said he did notthink that the isl
anders would care for African music.
The other thing that kept us was the bullfight. In these islands, whichbelonged to Spain, they had bullfights every Sunday. It was on a Fridaythat we arrived there; and after we had got rid of the able seaman wetook a walk through the town.
It was a very funny little town, quite different from any that I hadever seen. The streets were all twisty and winding and so narrow that awagon could only just pass along them. The houses over-hung at the topand came so close together that people in the attics could lean out ofthe windows and shake hands with their neighbors on the opposite sideof the street. The Doctor told us the town was very, very old. It wascalled Monteverde.
As we had no money of course we did not go to a hotel or anything likethat. But on the second evening when we were passing by a bed-maker’sshop we noticed several beds, which the man had made, standing onthe pavement outside. The Doctor started chatting in Spanish to thebed-maker who was sitting at his door whistling to a parrot in a cage.The Doctor and the bed-maker got very friendly talking about birds andthings. And as it grew near to supper-time the man asked us to stop andsup with him.
This of course we were very glad to do. And after the meal was over(very nice dishes they were, mostly cooked in olive-oil—I particularlyliked the fried bananas) we sat outside on the pavement again and wenton talking far into the night.
At last when we got up to go back to our ship, this very niceshopkeeper wouldn’t hear of our going away on any account. He said thestreets down by the harbor were very badly lighted and there was nomoon. We would surely get lost. He invited us to spend the night withhim and go back to our ship in the morning.
Well, we finally agreed; and as our good friend had no spare bedrooms,the three of us, the Doctor, Bumpo and I, slept on the beds set out forsale on the pavement before the shop. The night was so hot we neededno coverings. It was great fun to fall asleep out of doors like this,watching the people walking to and fro and the gay life of the streets.It seemed to me that Spanish people never went to bed at all. Late asit was, all the little restaurants and cafés around us were wide open,with customers drinking coffee and chatting merrily at the small tablesoutside. The sound of a guitar strumming softly in the distance mingledwith the clatter of chinaware and the babble of voices.
Somehow it made me think of my mother and father far away in Puddleby,with their regular habits, the evening practise on the flute and therest—doing the same thing every day. I felt sort of sorry for them ina way, because they missed the fun of this traveling life, where wewere doing something new all the time—even sleeping differently. ButI suppose if they had been invited to go to bed on a pavement in frontof a shop they wouldn’t have cared for the idea at all. It is funny howsome people are.
“The Doctor started chatting in Spanish to thebed-maker”]
_THE SEVENTH CHAPTER_
THE DOCTOR’S WAGER
NEXT morning we were awakened by a great racket. There was a processioncoming down the street, a number of men in very gay clothes followedby a large crowd of admiring ladies and cheering children. I asked theDoctor who they were.
“They are the bullfighters,” he said. “There is to be a bullfightto-morrow.”
“What is a bullfight?” I asked.
To my great surprise the Doctor got red in the face with anger. Itreminded me of the time when he had spoken of the lions and tigers inhis private zoo.
“A bullfight is a stupid, cruel, disgusting business,” said he. “TheseSpanish people are most lovable and hospitable folk. How they can enjoythese wretched bullfights is a thing I could never understand.”
Then the Doctor went on to explain to me how a bull was first made veryangry by teasing and then allowed to run into a circus where men cameout with red cloaks, waved them at him, and ran away. Next the bull wasallowed to tire himself out by tossing and killing a lot of poor, old,broken-down horses who couldn’t defend themselves. Then, when the bullwas thoroughly out of breath and wearied by this, a man came out with asword and killed the bull.
“Every Sunday,” said the Doctor, “in almost every big town in Spainthere are six bulls killed like that and as many horses.”
“But aren’t the men ever killed by the bull?” I asked.
“Unfortunately very seldom,” said he. “A bull is not nearly asdangerous as he looks, even when he’s angry, if you are only quick onyour feet and don’t lose your head. These bullfighters are very cleverand nimble. And the people, especially the Spanish ladies, think noend of them. A famous bullfighter (or matador, as they call them) isa more important man in Spain than a king—Here comes another crowd ofthem round the corner, look. See the girls throwing kisses to them.Ridiculous business!”
At that moment our friend the bed-maker came out to see the processiongo past. And while he was wishing us good morning and enquiring howwe had slept, a friend of his walked up and joined us. The bed-makerintroduced this friend to us as Don Enrique Cardenas.
Don Enrique when he heard where we were from, spoke to us in English.He appeared to be a well-educated, gentlemanly sort of person.
“And you go to see the bullfight to-morrow, yes?” he asked the Doctorpleasantly.
“Certainly not,” said John Dolittle firmly. “I don’t likebullfights—cruel, cowardly shows.”
Don Enrique nearly exploded. I never saw a man get so excited. He toldthe Doctor that he didn’t know what he was talking about. He saidbullfighting was a noble sport and that the matadors were the bravestmen in the world.
“Oh, rubbish!” said the Doctor. “You never give the poor bull a chance.It is only when he is all tired and dazed that your precious matadorsdare to try and kill him.”
I thought the Spaniard was going to strike the Doctor he got so angry.While he was still spluttering to find words, the bed-maker camebetween them and took the Doctor aside. He explained to John Dolittlein a whisper that this Don Enrique Cardenas was a very importantperson; that he it was who supplied the bulls—a special, strong blackkind—from his own farm for all the bullfights in the Capa Blancas. Hewas a very rich man, the bed-maker said, a most important personage. Hemustn’t be allowed to take offense on any account.
I watched the Doctor’s face as the bed-maker finished, and I saw aflash of boyish mischief come into his eyes as though an idea hadstruck him. He turned to the angry Spaniard.
“Don Enrique,” he said, “you tell me your bullfighters are verybrave men and skilful. It seems I have offended you by saying thatbullfighting is a poor sport. What is the name of the best matador youhave for to-morrow’s show?”
“Pepito de Malaga,” said Don Enrique, “one of the greatest names, oneof the bravest men, in all Spain.”
“Very well,” said the Doctor, “I have a proposal to make to you. Ihave never fought a bull in my life. Now supposing I were to go intothe ring to-morrow with Pepito de Malaga and any other matadors youchoose; and if I can do more tricks with a bull than they can, wouldyou promise to do something for me?”
Don Enrique threw back his head and laughed.
“Man,” he said, “you must be mad! You would be killed at once. One hasto be trained for years to become a proper bullfighter.”
“Supposing I were willing to take the risk of that—You are not afraid,I take it, to accept my offer?”
The Spaniard frowned.
“Afraid!” he cried, “Sir, if you can beat Pepito de Malaga in thebull-ring I’ll promise you anything it is possible for me to grant.”
“Very good,” said the Doctor, “now I understand that you are quite apowerful man in these islands. If you wished to stop all bullfightinghere after to-morrow, you could do it, couldn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Don Enrique proudly—“I could.”
“Well that is what I ask of you—if I win my wager,” said John Dolittle.“If I can do more with angry bulls than can Pepito de Malaga, you areto promise me that there shall never be another bullfight in the CapaBlancas so long as you are alive to stop it. Is it a bargain?” r />
The Spaniard held out his hand.
“It is a bargain,” he said—“I promise. But I must warn you that youare merely throwing your life away, for you will certainly be killed.However, that is no more than you deserve for saying that bullfightingis an unworthy sport. I will meet you here to-morrow morning if youshould wish to arrange any particulars. Good day, Sir.”
As the Spaniard turned and walked into the shop with the bed-maker,Polynesia, who had been listening as usual, flew up on to my shoulderand whispered in my ear,
“I have a plan. Get hold of Bumpo and come some place where the Doctorcan’t hear us. I want to talk to you.”
I nudged Bumpo’s elbow and we crossed the street and pretended to lookinto a jeweler’s window; while the Doctor sat down upon his bed to laceup his boots, the only part of his clothing he had taken off for thenight.
“Listen,” said Polynesia, “I’ve been breaking my head trying to thinkup some way we can get money to buy those stores with; and at last I’vegot it.”
“The money?” said Bumpo.
“No, stupid. The idea—to make the money with. Listen: the Doctor issimply bound to win this game to-morrow, sure as you’re alive. Now allwe have to do is to make a side bet with these Spaniards—they’re greaton gambling—and the trick’s done.”
“What’s a side bet?” I asked.
“Oh I know what that is,” said Bumpo proudly. “We used to have lots ofthem at Oxford when boat-racing was on. I go to Don Enrique and say,‘I bet you a hundred pounds the Doctor wins.’ Then if he does win, DonEnrique pays me a hundred pounds; and if he doesn’t, I have to pay DonEnrique.”