The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle (23 page)

BUT alas! even the Three, mighty though they were, could not last
forever against an army which seemed to have no end. In one of the
hottest scrimmages, when the enemy had broken a particularly wide hole
through the fence, I saw Long Arrow's great figure topple and come down
with a spear sticking in his broad chest.

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 eye-balls and grim set teeth, he was
a veritable demon. None dared come within yards of that wicked,
wide-circling door-post. But a stone, skilfully thrown, struck him at
last in the centre of the forehead. And down went the second of the
Three. John Dolittle, the last of the Terribles, was left fighting
alone.

Jip and I rushed to his side and tried to take the places of the fallen
ones. But, far too light and too small, we made but a poor exchange.
Another length of the fence crashed down, and through the widened gap
the Bag-jagderags poured in on us like a flood.

"To the canoes!—To the sea!" shouted the Popsipetels. "Fly for your
lives!—All is over!—The war is lost!"

But the Doctor and I never got a chance to fly for our lives. We were
swept off our feet and knocked down flat by the sheer weight of the mob.
And once down, we were unable to get up again. I thought we would surely
be trampled to death.

But at that moment, above the din and racket of the battle, we heard
the most terrifying noise that ever assaulted human ears: the sound of
millions and millions of parrots all screeching with fury together.

The army, which in the nick of time Polynesia had brought to our rescue,
darkened the whole sky to the westward. I asked her afterwards, how many
birds there were; and she said she didn't know exactly but that they
certainly numbered somewhere between sixty and seventy millions. In
that extraordinarily short space of time she had brought them from the
mainland of South America.

If you have ever heard a parrot screech with anger you will know that it
makes a truly frightful sound; and if you have ever been bitten by one,
you will know that its bite can be a nasty and a painful thing.

The Black Parrots (coal-black all over, they were—except for a scarlet
beak and a streak of red in wing and tail) on the word of command
from Polynesia set to work upon the Bag-jagderags who were now pouring
through the village looking for plunder.

And the Black Parrots' method of fighting was peculiar. This is what
they did: on the head of each Bag-jagderag three or four parrots settled
and took a good foot-hold in his hair with their claws; then they leant
down over the sides of his head and began clipping snips out of his
ears, for all the world as though they were punching tickets. That is
all they did. They never bit them anywhere else except the ears. But it
won the war for us.

With howls pitiful to hear, the Bag-jagderags fell over one another in
their haste to get out of that accursed village. It was no use their
trying to pull the parrots off their heads; because for each head there
were always four more parrots waiting impatiently to get on.

Some of the enemy were lucky; and with only a snip or two managed to get
outside the fence—where the parrots immediately left them alone. But
with most, before the black birds had done with them, the ears presented
a very singular appearance—like the edge of a postage-stamp. This
treatment, very painful at the time, did not however do them any
permanent harm beyond the change in looks. And it later got to be the
tribal mark of the Bag-jagderags. No really smart young lady of this
tribe would be seen walking with a man who did not have scalloped
ears—for such was a proof that he had been in the Great War. And that
(though it is not generally known to scientists) is how this people
came to be called by the other Indian nations, the Ragged-Eared
Bag-jagderags.

As soon as the village was cleared of the enemy the Doctor turned his
attention to the wounded.

In spite of the length and fierceness of the struggle, there were
surprisingly few serious injuries. Poor Long Arrow was the worst off.
However, after the Doctor had washed his wound and got him to bed, he
opened his eyes and said he already felt better. Bumpo was only badly
stunned.

With this part of the business over, the Doctor called to Polynesia to
have the Black Parrots drive the enemy right back into their own country
and to wait there, guarding them all night.

Polynesia gave the short word of command; and like one bird those
millions of parrots opened their red beaks and let out once more their
terrifying battle-scream.

The Bag-jagderags didn't wait to be bitten a second time, but fled
helter-skelter over the mountains from which they had come; whilst
Polynesia and her victorious army followed watchfully behind like a
great, threatening, black cloud.

The Doctor picked up his high hat which had been knocked off in the
fight, dusted it carefully and put it on.

"To-morrow," he said, shaking his fist towards the hills, "we will
arrange the terms of peace—and we will arrange them—in the City of
Bag-jagderag."

His words were greeted with cheers of triumph from the admiring
Popsipetels. The war was over.

THE next day we set out for the far end of the island, and reaching it
in canoes (for we went by sea) after a journey of twenty-five hours, we
remained no longer than was necessary in the City of Bag-jagderag.

When he threw himself into that fight at Popsipetel, I saw the Doctor
really angry for the first time in my life. But his anger, once aroused,
was slow to die. All the way down the coast of the island he never
ceased to rail against this cowardly people who had attacked his
friends, the Popsipetels, for no other reason but to rob them of their
corn, because they were too idle to till the land themselves. And he was
still angry when he reached the City of Bag-jagderag.

Long Arrow had not come with us for he was as yet too weak from his
wound. But the Doctor—always clever at languages—was already
getting familiar with the Indian tongue. Besides, among the half-dozen
Popsipetels who accompanied us to paddle the canoes, was one boy to whom
we had taught a little English. He and the Doctor between them managed
to make themselves understood to the Bag-jagderags. This people, with
the terrible parrots still blackening the hills about their stone town,
waiting for the word to descend and attack, were, we found, in a very
humble mood.

Leaving our canoes we passed up the main street to the palace of the
chief. Bumpo and I couldn't help smiling with satisfaction as we saw
how the waiting crowds which lined the roadway bowed their heads to the
ground, as the little, round, angry figure of the Doctor strutted ahead
of us with his chin in the air.

At the foot of the palace-steps the chief and all the more important
personages of the tribe were waiting to meet him, smiling humbly
and holding out their hands in friendliness. The Doctor took not the
slightest notice. He marched right by them, up the steps to the door
of the palace. There he turned around and at once began to address the
people in a firm voice.

I never heard such a speech in my life—and I am quite sure that they
never did either. First he called them a long string of names: cowards,
loafers, thieves, vagabonds, good-for-nothings, bullies and what not.
Then he said he was still seriously thinking of allowing the parrots to
drive them on into the sea, in order that this pleasant land might be
rid, once for all, of their worthless carcases. At this a great cry
for mercy went up, and the chief and all of them fell on their knees,
calling out that they would submit to any conditions of peace he wished.

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; and that the two tribes should give solemn promise
to help one another whenever there was corn-famine or other distress in
the lands belonging to either.

This greatly surprised the Bag-jagderags. They had expected from the
Doctor's angry face that he would at least chop a couple of hundred
heads off—and probably make the rest of them slaves for life.

But when they saw that he only meant kindly by them, their great fear of
him changed to a tremendous admiration. And as he ended his long speech
and walked briskly down the steps again on his way back to the canoes,
the group of chieftains threw themselves at his feet and cried, "Do but
stay with us. Great Lord, and all the riches of Bag-jagderag shall
be poured into your lap. Gold-mines we know of in the mountains and
pearl-beds beneath the sea. Only stay with us, that your all-powerful
wisdom may lead our Council and our people in prosperity and peace." The
Doctor held up his hand for silence.

"No man," said he, "would wish to be the guest of the Bag-jagderags till
they had proved by their deeds that they are an honest race. Be true to
the terms of the Peace and from yourselves shall come good government
and prosperity—Farewell!"

Then he turned and followed by Bumpo, the Popsipetels and myself, walked
rapidly down to the canoes.

BUT the change of heart in the Bag-jagderags was really sincere. The
Doctor had made a great impression on them—a deeper one than even he
himself realized at the time. In fact I sometimes think that that
speech of his from the palace-steps had more effect upon the Indians of
Spidermonkey Island than had any of his great deeds which, great though
they were, were always magnified and exaggerated when the news of them
was passed from mouth to mouth.

A sick girl was brought to him as he reached the place where the boats
lay. She turned out to have some quite simple ailment which he quickly
gave the remedy for. But this increased his popularity still more. And
when he stepped into his canoe, the people all around us actually burst
into tears. It seems (I learned this afterwards) that they thought he
was going away across the sea, for good, to the mysterious foreign lands
from which he had come.

Some of the chieftains spoke to the Popsipetels as we pushed off. What
they said I did not understand; but we noticed that several canoes
filled with Bag-jagderags followed us at a respectful distance all the
way back to Popsipetel.

The Doctor had determined to return by the other shore, so that we
should be thus able to make a complete trip round the island's shores.

Shortly after we started, while still off the lower end of the island,
we sighted a steep point on the coast where the sea was in a great state
of turmoil, white with soapy froth. On going nearer, we found that this
was caused by our friendly whales who were still faithfully working away
with their noses against the end of the island, driving us northward. We
had been kept so busy with the war that we had forgotten all about them.
But as we paused and watched their mighty tails lashing and churning
the sea, we suddenly realized that we had not felt cold in quite along
while. Speeding up our boat lest the island be carried away from us
altogether, we passed on up the coast; and here and there we noticed
that the trees on the shore already looked greener and more healthy.
Spidermonkey Island was getting back into her home climates.

About halfway to Popsipetel we went ashore and spent two or three days
exploring the central part of the island. Our Indian paddlers took us up
into the mountains, very steep and high in this region, overhanging the
sea. And they showed us what they called the Whispering Rocks.

This was a very peculiar and striking piece of scenery. It was like a
great vast basin, or circus, in the mountains, and out of the centre of
it there rose a table of rock with an ivory chair upon it. All around
this the mountains went up like stairs, or theatre-seats, to a great
height—except at one narrow end which was open to a view of the sea.
You could imagine it a council-place or concert-hall for giants, and the
rock table in the centre the stage for performers or the stand for the
speaker.

We asked our guides why it was called the Whispering Rocks; and they
said, "Go down into it and we will show you."

The great bowl was miles deep and miles wide. We scrambled down the
rocks and they showed us how, even when you stood far, far apart from
one another, you merely had to whisper in that great place and every one
in the theatre could hear you. This was, the Doctor said, on account of
the echoes which played backwards and forwards between the high walls of
rock.

Our guides told us that it was here, in days long gone by when the
Popsipetels owned the whole of Spidermonkey Island, that the kings were
crowned. The ivory chair upon the table was the throne in which they
sat. And so great was the big theatre that all the Indians in the island
were able to get seats in it to see the ceremony.

They showed us also an enormous hanging stone perched on the edge of a
volcano's crater—the highest summit in the whole island. Although it
was very far below us, we could see it quite plainly, and it looked
wobbly enough to be pushed off its perch with the hand. There was
a legend among the people, they said, that when the greatest of all
Popsipetel kings should be crowned in the ivory chair, this hanging
stone would tumble into the volcano's mouth and go straight down to the
centre of the earth.