The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle quotes

The cat’s-meatman stopped and leant down to whisper in my ear.

“He talks their language,” he said in a hoarse, mysterious voice.

“The animals’ language?” I cried.

It was a marvelous kitchen.

It was like the Doctor, comfortable, sensible, friendly and solid.

While we were gobbling away, the door suddenly opened and in marched the duck, Dab-Dab, and the dog, Jip, dragging sheets and pillowcases behind them over the clean tiled floor. The Doctor, seeing how surprised I was, explained:

For it had everything within its walls to give happiness, to make living pleasant—to keep the heart at peace.

It was the Garden of Dreams.

One peculiar thing I noticed immediately I came into it; and that was what a lot of birds there were about. Every tree seemed to have two or three nests in it.

The locks are only there so the animals can go and shut themselves in any time they want to get away from the annoyance of other animals or from people who might come here.

Every animal in this zoo stays here because he likes it, not because he is made to.

”

I used to practise listening to the mice behind the wainscot after I went to bed, and watching the cats on the roofs and pigeons in the market-square of Puddleby.

And the days passed very quickly⁠—as they always do when life is pleasant

; and the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months; and soon the roses in the Doctor’s garden were losing their petals and yellow leaves lay upon the wide green lawn. For the summer was nearly gone.

“Sit down!” roared the judge. “I say the dog shall be heard. That ends the matter. Put the witness in the stand.”

And then for the first time in the solemn history of England a dog was put in the witness-stand of Her Majesty’s Court of Assizes.

And it was I, Tommy Stubbins (when the Doctor made a sign to me across the room) who proudly led Bob up the aisle, through the astonished crowd, past the frowning, spluttering, long-nosed Prosecutor, and made him comfortable on a high chair in the witness-box;

“What’s that mean?” I asked, turning to the Doctor.

But I found Doctor John Dolittle, the famous naturalist, standing on top of a chair, dancing about on one leg like a schoolboy.

“It means he’s free!” he cried, “Luke is free!”

“It wouldn’t be a bit of use,” said the Doctor. “His wife’s come for him.

No man stands any chance of going on a voyage when his wife hasn’t seen him in fifteen years.

Come along. Let’s get home to tea. We didn’t have any lunch, remember. And we’ve earned something to eat. We’ll have one of those mixed meals, lunch and tea combined—with watercress and ham. Nice change. Come along.”

I got that from a tame hawk, a pet, which the Chief of the Indians keeps for hunting partridges with. I nearly got caught and put in a cage for my pains too.

That’s the worst of having beautiful feathers: it’s as much as your life is worth to go near most humans

—They say, ‘oh how pretty!’ and shoot an arrow or a bullet into you. You and Long Arrow were the only two men that I would ever trust myself near—out of all the people in the world.”

But as a matter of fact they behaved quite well—for parents. My mother said something about being sure not to get my feet wet; and my father just smiled a crooked sort of smile, patted me on the back and wished me luck.

Goodbyes are awfully uncomfortable things and I was glad when it was over and we passed on to the ship.

We were a little surprised not to see Matthew Mugg among the crowd. We had felt sure that he would be there; and the Doctor had intended to give him some extra instructions about the food for the animals we had left at the house.

Now we haven’t the price of a postage-stamp aboard if we should lose an anchor or have to buy a pint of tar—Well, let’s pray we don’t run out of food—

Why doesn’t he give them the ship and walk home?

”

… pulled the blankets snugly round me, I found I could look out of the porthole at my elbow, and, without raising my head from the pillow, could see the lights of Penzance swinging gently up and down with the motion of the ship at anchor.

It was like being rocked to sleep with a little show going on to amuse you.

I was just deciding that I liked the life of the sea very much when I fell fast asleep.

I’ve lost ships before and it doesn’t bother me in the least. When I set out to go to a place, I get there. Do you understand?

I may know nothing whatever about sailing and navigation, but I get there just the same.

Now you may be the best seaman in the world, but on this ship you’re just a plain ordinary nuisance—very plain and very ordinary. And I am now going to call at the nearest port and put you ashore.”

“Oh, bless you, my boy,” said she, “you’re always safe with John Dolittle. Remember that. Don’t take any notice of that stupid old salt. Of course it is perfectly true the Doctor does do everything wrong. But with him it doesn’t matter.

Mark my words, if you travel with John Dolittle you always get there, as you heard him say.

I’ve been with him lots of times and I know. Sometimes the ship is upside down when you get there, and sometimes it’s right way up. But you get there just the same.

But with him it doesn’t matter. Mark my words, if you travel with John Dolittle you always get there, as you heard him say. I’ve been with him lots of times and I know.

Sometimes the ship is upside down when you get there, and sometimes it’s right way up. But you get there just the same.

And then of course there’s another thing about the Doctor,” she added thoughtfully: “he always has extraordinary good luck. He may have his troubles; but with him things seem to have a habit of turning out all right in the end.

To my great surprise the Doctor got red in the face with anger. It reminded me of the time when he had spoken of the lions and tigers in his private zoo.

“A bullfight is a stupid, cruel, disgusting business,” said he.

“These Spanish people are most lovable and hospitable folk. How they can enjoy these wretched bullfights is a thing I could never understand.”

The black line to the eastward grew blacker as it came nearer and nearer. A low, rumbly, whispering noise went moaning over the sea. The water which had been so blue and smiling turned to a ruffled ugly gray.

And across the darkening sky, shreds of cloud swept like tattered witches flying from the storm.

I must confess I was frightened. You see I had only so far seen the sea in friendly moods: sometimes quiet and lazy; sometimes laughing, venturesome and reckless;

sometimes quiet and lazy; sometimes laughing, venturesome and reckless; sometimes brooding and poetic, when moonbeams turned her ripples into silver threads and dreaming snowy night-clouds piled up fairy-castles in the sky. But as yet

I had not known, or even guessed at, the terrible strength of the Sea’s wild anger.

When that storm finally struck us we leaned right over flatly on our side, as though some invisible giant had slapped the poor Curlew on the cheek.

I sprang up as though someone had stuck a pin in me. And there, perched at the very end of my raft, her beautiful golden tail glowing dimly in the starlight, sat Miranda, the Purple Bird-of-Paradise!

Never have I been so glad to see anyone in my life. I almost fell into the water as I leapt to hug her.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” said she. “I guessed you must be tired after all you’ve been through—Don’t squash the life out of me, boy: I’m not a stuffed duck, you know.”

“Of course he’s alive—and it’s my firm belief he always will be. He’s over there, about forty miles to the westward.”

“He’s sitting on the other half of the Curlew shaving himself⁠—or he was, when I left him.”

“Well, thank Heaven he’s alive!” said I—“And Bumpo—and the animals, are they all right?”

It lay partly upon its side; and most of them were perched upon the top munching ship’s biscuit.

But close down to the edge of the water, using the sea’s calm surface for a mirror and a piece of broken bottle for a razor, John Dolittle was shaving his face by the light of the moon.

and he picked up a big stone and banged it with all his might against the face of the rock. It made a hollow booming sound, like a giant drum. We all stood still listening while the echo of it died slowly away.

And then a cold shiver ran down my spine. For, from within the mountain, back came three answering knocks: Boom!⁠ ⁠… Boom!⁠ ⁠… Boom!

Wide-eyed we looked at one another as though the earth itself had spoken. And the solemn little silence that followed was broken by the Doctor.

Travelers who have since visited Spidermonkey Island tell me that that huge stone slab is now one of the regular sights of the island. And that the Indian guides, when showing it to visitors, always tell their story of how it came there.

They say that when the Doctor found that the rocks had entrapped his friend, Long Arrow, he was so angry that he ripped the mountain in halves with his bare hands and let him out.

And then I made a curious discovery: now that I had to, I found that I was beginning to see a little in the dark myself.

And for the first time I realized that of course there is no such thing as pitch-dark, so long as you have a door open or a sky above you.

Calling for the loan of a bow, the Doctor loosened the string, put the hard stick into a loop and began grinding this stick into the soft wood of the log. Soon I smelt that the log was smoking.

For another half-hour Bumpo and the Doctor fought on side by side. How their strength held out so long I cannot tell, for never a second were they given to get their breath or rest their arms.

The Doctor⁠—the quiet, kindly, peaceable, little Doctor!⁠—well, you wouldn’t have known him if you had seen him that day dealing out whacks you could hear a mile off, walloping and swatting in all directions.

As for Bumpo, with staring eyeballs and grim set teeth, he was a veritable demon. None dared come within yards of that wicked, wide-circling doorpost. But a stone, skilfully thrown, struck him at last in the centre of the forehead.

Then the Doctor called for one of their scribes—that is, a man who did picture-writing. And on the stone walls of the palace of Bag-jagderag he bade him write down the terms of the peace as he dictated it.

This peace is known as The Peace of The Parrots, and⁠—unlike most peaces⁠—was, and is, strictly kept⁠—even to this day.

It was quite long in words. The half of the palace-front was covered with picture-writing, and fifty pots of paint were used, before the weary scribe had done. But the main part of it all was that there should be no more fighting;

What a day this is, to be sure!—Maybe it rolled under the bed, Bumpo—I do think they might have given me a day or so to think it over in.

Who ever heard of waking a man right out of his sleep, and telling him he’s got to be a king, before he has even washed his face?

Can’t any of you find it? Maybe you’re standing on it, Bumpo. Move your feet.”

These people have come to rely on me for a great number of things. We found them ignorant of much that white people enjoy. And we have, one might say, changed the current of their lives considerably.

Now it is a very ticklish business, to change the lives of other people.

And whether the changes we have made will be, in the end, for good or for bad, is our lookout.”