Part II Chapter 10 Doctor Dolittle's Garden by Hugh Lofting
THE GIANT MOTHS
The following evening Chee-Chee, before the Doctor returned to his sheds outside the house, broached the subject of a voyage. This, rather to our surprise, had the effect of keeping the Doctor in the fireside circle for several hours later than was his custom.
"Well, Chee-Chee," said he, "I'd like to take a voyage—it's quite a while since I went abroad—but you see, there is so much work yet to be done on insect language here at home. I never believe in leaving anything unfinished—if I can possibly avoid it."
"Yes, but listen, Doctor," said Polynesia. "You will learn a whole lot more about insects and their languages abroad. It never seemed to me that travelling ever interrupted your studies. On the contrary the further you were from home, and the more difficult the conditions that faced you, the more you got done—so far as I could see."
"Humph!" muttered the Doctor. "That's quite a compliment, Polynesia, I wonder if it's true."
"In any case, Doctor," said I, "it's a long while since you were on a voyage. And you know one does miss a lot if he does not go abroad every so often."
"That's so," said he.—"That's true enough. But then the trouble is: where to go? You know, Stubbins, I'm afraid that in my old age I've got very hard to please in the matter of travel. All the big and important exploration has been done. If there was a job like that which Columbus did, or Magellan, or Vasco da Gama, still left to be accomplished, that would be different."
"What did Vasco da Gama do?" I asked.
"Oh," said Bumpo proudly, "he was the man who sailed around the Cake of Good Soap."
"The Cape of Good Hope, you mean," said John Dolittle patiently. "But the point is, Stubbins, that most of the big, the important, exploration is already carried out. Why should I worry about mapping the details of the smaller geography when there is the languages of the insects, with all they may have to tell us, still misunderstood, still a secret to Mankind? Why, I heard from some moths whom I questioned this afternoon the most extraordinary things that no one would believe if you told them. This study of insect languages may seem very unimportant to you when mentioned alongside a voyage to foreign shores. But I assure you it isn't. No one who hasn't studied insect language can have any idea what it may contribute to—er—modern thought and philosophy."
"Yes, but, Doctor," I said, "abroad, as Polynesia suggests, you might accomplish still better results in your studies."
"Abroad!"—John Dolittle's voice sounded to my surprise almost contemptuous. He walked over to the window and threw back the curtains. The light of the full moon poured into the room.
"Stubbins," he said suddenly in a strange, intense voice, "if I could get to the Moon! That would be worth while! Columbus discovered a new half of our own planet. All alone he did it, pitting his opinion against the rest of the world. It was a great feat. The days of big discovery, as I said, are gone by. But if I could reach the Moon then I could feel I was truly great—a greater explorer than Columbus. The Moon—how beautiful she looks!"
"Lord save us," whispered Polynesia. "What's come over the good man?"
"Humph!" muttered Bumpo. "It seems to me the Doctor is just talking happy-go-foolish, as it were. The Moon! How could he get there?"
"It is not such a wild notion, Stubbins," said John Dolittle leaving the window and appealing to me with outstretched hands. "Some one will do it—some day. It stands to reason. What a step it would be! The naturalist who first reached the Moon! Ah! He will be the one to make strides in science—maybe to give all investigation a new start."
"Listen, Doctor," said Polynesia, evidently anxious to call him back to earth and practical matters, "we haven't had a story from you in ever so long. How would it be if you told us one to-night?"
"Story—story?" mumbled the Doctor, in a faraway sort of voice. "My head is too full of problems. Get one of the family to tell one. Tell one yourself, Polynesia, you know plenty—or Chee-Chee, yours are always worth hearing."
"It would be better, Doctor," said Chee-Chee, "if you told us one. It isn't often, lately, that you've been home evenings."
"Not to-night, Chee-Chee, not to-night," said John Dolittle, going back to the window and looking up again at the Moon. "I told you: my head is full of problems—and moths."
"What do you mean, your head is full of moths, Doctor?" asked Dab-Dab in rather an alarmed voice.
"Oh," said the Doctor, laughing, "I just meant the study of moth language—and its problems. I've been at it now for several days and nights and my head is full of it."
"You should take a rest," said Chee-Chee. "A voyage would be a fine change for you—and all of us."
Now the Doctor had put in a good deal of time on the moths already, I knew, without my assistance. I was naturally keen to hear if he had made any special discoveries. I had become so much a part of his research work that I felt almost a bit jealous now if he went off on his own and left me out.
"Had you heard anything of unusual importance, Doctor," I asked, "in your work recently with the moths?"
"Well, yes," he said. "I hatched out one of the Hawks last night—a beautiful specimen. I put her—she was a lady moth—in a glass dome with a small light in it on the window sill. Great numbers of gentlemen Hawks came to call on her. How they gathered so suddenly when their species has never been seen within a hundred miles of here goodness only knows. I caught a few and experimented with them in the listening machines. And—er—"
He hesitated a moment with a puzzled look on his face.
"Well," I asked, "what did they tell you?"
"It was most extraordinary," he said at length. "They didn't seem to want to let me know where they came from, nor how they had found their way here. Quite mysterious. So I gave up that line of inquiry and asked for general information about their history and traditions. And they told me the wildest story. Perhaps it has no truth in it whatever. But—er—well, you know most of the members of the Hawk family are large—that is for this part of the world. So I got on to the subject of size, and they told me of a race of moths as big—well, I know it sounds crazy—as big as a house. I said at once of course, 'No. It can't be. There's some mistake'—thinking that my scanty knowledge of the language had led me astray. But they insisted. There was a tradition in moth history that somewhere there were moths as big as a house who could lift a ton weight in the air just as though it were a feather.—Extraordinary—mysterious! The moths are a curious race."