Part II Chapter 5 Doctor Dolittle and the Green Canary by Hugh Lofting
The Window-cleaner at Last!
'One day towards evening there was a great commotion on the deck. Passengers were running forward with spyglasses and pointing over the sea. Land had been sighted. We were now only half an hour or so from the port where I hoped to escape.
'It was very amusing to me to see how carefully and with what a lot of trouble and fuss a ship is brought to the land. On the sea, with their sails all billowing in the wind, they are such graceful things; but at the docks they become great clumsy masses of wood and canvas: difficult to handle and always in danger of being rammed on the pilings by the waves washing towards the shore.
'As we neared the land men came out in boats to guide us into the harbour; there was no end of signalling and shouting between the ship and the shore and finally when we did creep in at a snail's pace they tied the vessel down from every angle. I could not help comparing all this with the carefree, simple manner in which birds make their landing in a new country after a voyage of many thousands of miles.
'From my position hanging inside the barber's shop I could not see a great deal of the port in which we had come, beyond little glimpses through the door and porthole. But from them I recognized the place. It was a town not more than fifty miles from the hill on which the windmill stood. Shortly after we were moved up to a wharf some friends of the barber came aboard to see him. They sat around drinking beer and chatting and presently one of them said to him:
'"I see you've got another canary, Bill?"
'"Yes," said the barber. "A good singer, too. And he's that tame he'll come right out on to my hand. Wait a minute and I'll show you."
'"Ah, ha!" I thought to myself. "Now my chance is coming."
'Then the barber opened my cage door and, standing a few paces off, he held out his hand and called to me to fly out on to it. Through the open door of the shop I could see part of the town, steep streets straggling up towards hills and pleasant rolling pasture land. I hopped on to the sill of my cage and stood a moment, half in and half out.
'"Now, watch him," called the barber to his friends. "He'll fly right on to my finger. He's done it lots of times. Come on, Dick! Here I am. Come on!"
'And then I flew—but not on to his finger. Taking a line on those steep streets that I could see in the distance straggling up the hill, I made for the open door.
'But, alas! Such off chances can upset the best plans! Just as I was about to skim through the doorway it was suddenly blocked by an enormous figure. It was my big sailor. Of course, it would be—pretty nearly the largest man that ever walked, coming through the smallest doorway ever built. There were just two narrow little places either side of his head through which I might get by him. I tilted upwards and made for one of them.
'"Look out!" yelled the barber. "The bird's getting away. Grab him!"
'But the big sailor had already seen me. As I tried to slip out over his shoulder he clapped his two big hands together and caught me just like a ball that has been thrown to him.
'And that was the end of my great hopes and careful scheming! Because, of course, after that the barber never trusted me out with the door or windows open again. I was put back into the cage and there I stayed.
'Well, after six or seven hours the ship began to make ready to put to sea again.
'"What's the next port of call at which we stop?" I asked the other canary.
'"Oh, a long ways on," said he. "We go pretty nearly the whole length of the sea we're in now and touch at a group of islands at the mouth of a narrow straight. It takes nine days. But the islands are very pretty and worth seeing."
'But what did I care for the beauty of the islands! As the ropes were untied and the vessel moved out away form the wharf I saw the steep streets growing smaller. Beside myself with disappointment and annoyance, I beat the bars of my cage in senseless fury. I was sailing away from my friend, from the land of the windmill. And now, with my owner suspicious, heaven only knew when I'd ever have a chance to get back to it again!
'For the next three days our voyage was uneventful. Calm sunny weather prevailed. And the barber's shop was kept quite busy, because passengers aboard ship don't seem to bother very much about shaving or having their hair cut when the sea is rough, but in calmer weather it serves as a pastime to break the monotony of the voyage.
'On the fourth day we had a little excitement. A wreck was sighted. Unfortunately my cage was not hung outside that day and I could see practically nothing of the show. But from conversation and a little guesswork on my part I managed to piece most of the story together.
'About noon some kind of craft was seen by the man in the crow's nest—as the lookout on the mast is called. It was evidently in distress. There was a lot of signalling and a good deal of running about and looking through telescopes. Our ship's course was changed and we headed in the direction of the stranger.
'On closer inspection it was found not to be a wreck but a raft with one man on it. The man was either unconscious or dead. He lay face downwards and gave no answer when he was hailed. A boat was lowered and he was brought aboard. There was much cheering among the passengers when it was announced that he was still breathing. He was, nevertheless, in a terrible state of exhaustion from hunger and exposure. He was handed over into the care of the ship's doctor, and, still unconscious, was taken below and put to bed. Then our boat was set back upon her course and on we went.
'I though no more about the incident after the customers who came to the barber's had ceased to talk about it. The weather continued fair. And, for want of something better to do—also to keep my mind off my own troubles—I went on giving the other canary singing lessons.
'One day about a week later, when we were supposed to be getting near our next port of call, a most extraordinary–looking man entered the barber's shop. His strange appearance seemed to cause him a good deal of embarrassment. Without looking around at all, he sat down in the barber's chair. The barber must have expected him. For he set to work at once, without asking any questions, shaving off his beard and cutting his hair. The man's back was turned to me as he sat in the chair, and all I could see of him after the white apron was tied about his chin, was the top of his wild–looking head of tangled, matted hair.
'In the middle of the clipping and shaving the barber went to the door to speak to someone. And I gathered from the conversation that the man in the chair was he who had been saved from the raft. He was only now recovered enough to leave his bed for the first time. This made me more interested in him than ever. And, fascinated, I watched in silence as the barber clipped away at that enormous shock of hair. I fell to wondering what he would look like when that beard had been removed.
'At last the barber finished and with a flick and a flourish removed the apron from around his customer's neck. Weakly the man got out of the chair and stood up. He turned around and I saw his face.
'You could never guess who it was.'
'The window–cleaner!' yelled Gub–Gub, slipping off his cushion and disappearing under the table in his excitement.
'Yes,' said Pippinella quietly, 'it was the window–cleaner.'
Gub–Gub's sudden disappearance caused a short interruption and some two or three minutes were spent fishing him out from under the table and putting him and his cushion back on the stool. There, slightly bruised but otherwise none the worse for his accident, he continued to show intense interest in the canary's story while occasionally rubbing the side of his head, which he had bumped on the leg of the table.
'Well,' Pippinella continued, 'I was greatly shocked at my friend's appearance. I recognized him, beyond all doubt, instantly, of course. But, oh so thin he looked, pale, weary and weak! As yet he had not noticed me. Standing by the barber's chair, embarrassed, staring awkwardly at the floor, he started to put his hand in his pocket. Then, seeming to remember half–way that he had no money, he murmured something to the barber in explanation and hurried to leave the shop.
'There was a certain call that I used to give—a kind of greeting whistle—whenever he returned in days gone by to the windmill of an evening after his work was over. As he took hold of the door–handle to go out on to the deck I repeated it twice. Then he turned around and saw me.
'Never have I seen anyone's face so light up with joy and gladness.
'"Oh, Pip!" he cried, coming close up to my cage and peering in. "Is it really you? Yes. There could be no doubt about those markings. I could pick you out from a million!"
'"Pardon me," said the barber. "Do you know my canary?"
'"Your canary!" said the window–cleaner. "There is some mistake here. The bird is mine. I am quite sure of it."
'And then began a long argument. Of course, quite naturally, the barber wasn't going to give me up just on the other man's saying so. The sailor who had first caught me was called in. Then various stewards and other members of the crew joined the discussion. My friend, the window–cleaner, was a very polite through it all, but very firm. He was asked how long ago it was that I had been in his possession. And when he said it was many months since he had seen me last the others all laughed at him, saying that his claim was simply ridiculous. Never have I wished harder that I could talk the language of people, so that I might explain to them beyond all doubt which one was my real owner.
'Well, finally the matter was taken to the captain. Already many of the passengers were interested in the argument and when he came down to the barber's shop the place was crowded with people who were all giving advice and taking sides.
'The captain began by telling everybody to keep quiet while he heard both versions of the story. Then the barber and the window–cleaner in turn put forward their claims, giving reasons and particulars and all the rest. Next, the big sailor stated how he had found me in the rigging, during a rain squall and had taken me below and later sold me to the barber.
'When they had all done the captain turned to the window–cleaner and said:
'"I don't see how you can claim ownership of the bird on such evidence. There could easily be many birds marked the same as this one. The chances are that this was a wild bird which took refuge on this ship during bad weather. In the circumstances I feel that the barber has every right to keep it."
'Well, that seemed to be the end of the matter. The question had been referred to the captain, the highest authority on the ship, and he had decided in favour of the barber. It look as though I was going to remain in his possession.
'But the window–cleaner and his romantic rescue from the sea had greatly interested the passengers. His face was the kind of face that everyone would instinctively trust as honest. Many people felt that he would not have laid claim to me with such sureness and determination if he was not really my owner. And as the captain stepped out on to the deck one of the passengers—a funny, fussy old gentleman with side–whiskers—followed him and touched him on the arm.
'"Pardon me, captain," said he. "I have a feeling that our castaway is an upright and honourable person. If his claim to the canary should be just, possibly the bird will know him. Perhaps he can even do tricks with it. Would it not be as well to try some test of that kind before dismissing the case?"
'The captain turned back and all the other passengers who had been leaving now re–entered the barber's shop, their interest reviving at the prospect of a new trial.
'"Listen," said the captain, addressing the window–cleaner: "You say you know the canary well. Does the bird know you at all? Is there anything you can do to prove that what you say is true?"
'"Yes, the bird knows me, sir," said the barber. "He'll hop right out of the cage on to my hand when I call him. If you'll shut the door I'll show you."
'"Very good," said the captain. "Close the door."
'Then, with the little cabin crowded with people, the barber opened my cage, held up his hand and called to me to come out. I did—and, of course, flew straight to the window–cleaner's shoulder.
'A whisper of astonishment ran around among the passengers. Then I climbed off my friend's shoulder and clawed my way down his waistcoat. I wanted to remind him of an old trick he used to do with me at the mill. At supper he would sometimes put a lump of sugar in his waistcoat pocket and I would fish it out and drop it in his teacup. As soon as I started to walk down off his shoulder he remembered it and asked for a lump of sugar and a cup. They were brought forward by a steward. Then he explained to the captain what he was going to do, put the sugar in his pocket and the teacup on the barber's washstand.
'Well, I wish you could have seen the barber's face when I pulled that sugar out, flew to the cup, and dropped it in.
'"Why, captain," cried the old gentleman with the side–whiskers, "there can be no question now, surely, as to who is the owner. The bird will do anything for this man. I thought he wouldn't have claimed it if it wasn't his own."
'"Yes," said the captain, "the canary is his. There can be no doubt of that."
'And amid much talking and congratulations from the passengers the window–cleaner prepared to take me away. Then came the question of the ownership of the cage. That belonged to the barber, of course. But as there was no other empty one to be had aboard the ship my friend couldn't very well take me without it. However, the old gentleman with the side–whiskers, who seemed genuinely interested in the strange story of my funny owner and myself, came forward and volunteered to pay the barber the value of the cage.
'The window–cleaner thanked him and asked him for his name and address. He hadn't any money now, he said, but he wanted to send it to him after he got to land. Then I and my friend from whom I had been separated so long left the barber's shop and proceeded to the forward part of the ship, where he had his quarters.
'"Well, Pip," said he, shaking up the mattress of his bed, "here we are again! The captains's been pretty generous. Gave me a first class cabin for nothing. Of course I can't expect to have the services of a steward as well. So I make my own bed—where the dickens did that pillow get to? Oh, there it is, on the floor … . poor old Pip! What ages it is since we talked to one another. And then to find you aboard the ship that rescued me, living in the barber's shop! Dear, dear, what a strange world it is, to be sure! There goes five bells. That means half–past six. It'll soon be dinner–time. Are you hungry, Pip? Let's see. Oh, no, you've got plenty of seed. And I'll bring you a piece of apple from the dining saloon. What a decent chap that be–whiskered old fellow was, wasn't he—paying for your cage and all like that? Heaven only knows when he'll get his money back. I haven't a penny in the world. But I must see that he gets it somehow."
'While he finished making the bed he went vaguely about this and that, gradually coming to the part I wanted to hear the most.
'"Pip," he said finally in a more confidential tone. "I sometimes believe you understand every word I say. Do you know why? Whenever I talk, you keep silent. Is it possible you do know what I am saying?"
'I tried to make sound similar to the human word for yes but it just came out a peep which surprised him a little for he looked at me sharply and smiled.
'"Never mind, Pip," he said. "Whether you understand or not I still get great comfort from talking to you. Oh, goodness, I feel weak!" he said, dropping down on to the bunk. "I better sit down awhile. The least exertion tires me out now. I haven't got over that starving and the sun. Listen, Pip, would you like to know the real reason why I never came back to the mill that night? Just a minute—"
'He went over to the door, opened it and looked outside.
'"It's all right," he said, coming back to his seat on the bunk. "There's no one eavesdropping."
'His voice sank to a whisper as he leaned forward towards my cage, which stood on a table near this bunk. He seemed to be suddenly overcome with a spell of dizziness for he closed his eye a moment. I felt that he really ought to be in bed, recovering from his terrible trip. But I also felt very proud, because I realized that what he was about to tell me had most likely never been told to a living soul.'