THE VOYAGES OF DOCTOR DOLITTLE

PROLOGUE ALL that I have written so far about Doctor Dolittle I heard long after it happened from those who had known him—­ indeed a great deal of it took place before I was born.  But I now come to set down that part of the great man’s life which I myself saw and took part in.

Many years ago the Doctor gave me permission to do this.  But we were both of us so busy then voyaging around the world, having adventures and filling note-books full of natural history that I never seemed to get time to sit down and write of our doings.

Now of course, when I am quite an old man, my memory isn’t so good any more.  But whenever I am in doubt and have to hesitate and think, I always ask Polynesia, the parrot.

That wonderful bird (she is now nearly two hundred and fifty years old) sits on the top of my desk, usually humming sailor songs to herself, while I write this book.  And, as every one who ever met her knows, Polynesia’s memory is the most marvelous memory in the world.  If there is any happening I am not quite sure of, she is always able to put me right, to tell me exactly how it took place, who was there and everything about it.  In fact sometimes I almost think I ought to say that this book was written by Polynesia instead of me.

Very well then, I will begin.  And first of all I must tell you something about myself and how I came to meet the Doctor.

PART I

THE FIRST CHAPTER

THE COBBLER’S SON

My name was Tommy Stubbins, son of Jacob Stubbins, the cobbler of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh; and I was nine and a half years old.  At that time Puddleby was only quite a small town.  A river ran through the middle of it; and over this river there was a very old stone bridge, called Kingsbridge, which led you from the market-place on one side to the churchyard on the other.

Sailing-ships came up this river from the sea and anchored near the bridge.  I used to go down and watch the sailors unloading the ships upon the river-wall.  The sailors sang strange songs as they pulled upon the ropes; and I learned these songs by heart.  And I would sit on the river-wall with my feet dangling over the water and sing with the men, pretending to myself that I too was a sailor.

For I longed always to sail away with those brave ships when they turned their backs on Puddleby Church and went creeping down the river again, across the wide lonely marshes to the sea.  I longed to go with them out into the world to seek my fortune in foreign lands—­Africa, India, China and Peru!  When they got round the bend in the river and the water was hidden from view, you could still see their huge brown sails towering over the roofs of the town, moving onward slowly—­like some gentle giants that walked among the houses without noise.  What strange things would they have seen, I wondered, when next they came back to anchor at Kingsbridge!  And, dreaming of the lands I had never seen, I’d sit on there, watching till they were out of sight.