Part III Chapter 3 Doctor Dolittle and the Green Canary by Hugh Lofting
Cheapside Helps the Doctor
The Doctor went immediately to his room at the inn and told Pippinella the result of his expedition. When he had ended the canary shook her head.
'It looks bad,' she said, 'very bad, Doctor. From what both the farmer and Aunt Rosie told you, there is no doubt in my mind that the window–cleaner found his kitchen ransacked and his papers gone. Oh, dear! Poor man. I suppose he was just distracted with grief. What can we do, Doctor? What can we do?'
'Well, now,' said John Dolittle, 'be patient. After all, it's something that we know he went to London. I have a notion that we're going to succeed in finding him.'
'Oh, I hope so,' sighed Pippinella. 'I hope so. I'm so worried about him.'
'I hope we don't end up down at the East End docks again,' said Jip. 'I simply can't get the smells untangled. What with tar smells mixing with the scents from boxes of spices the ships from India unload on the docks, and the fish smells so strong one can barely breathe, I find it impossible to pick out the man smell.'
'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'It must be very difficult .Let's hope we don't have to go there.'
That evening the little party took the London coach from the town square. A there were no other passengers for that journey the Doctor was able to stretch out on one seat and sleep most of the way. When they reached the city it was early morning and everything was bustling with activity. The Doctor tucked Pippinella's little traveling cage under his arm so that in case they should meet the window–cleaner among the crowds on the streets the canary could recognize him. Jip trotted along at John Dolittle's heels, ready for action.
As they walked along the thronged pavements Pippinella, with her keen eyes, searched the faces of every passer–by, hoping to find her friend. After about two hours of this they all began to be a bit tired. On his way across a bridge that spanned the river, the Doctor sat down on one of the public seats to take a rest.
'Dear me, Doctor,' said the canary. 'I'm afraid there isn't much chance of our running into him haphazardly. Look at those crowds across the bridge! Their faces all swim together when I try to pick out one at a time.'
The Doctor, who was beginning to be depressed about the prospect himself, did not answer. Presently he got up and moved off, with the intention of finding Cheapside, the London sparrow who had promised to help them find the window–cleaner.
Passing by St Paul's Cathedral he looked up at the statue of St Edmund which stood against the sky. The Doctor knew that Cheapside and Becky, his wife, made their nest in the ear of the great statue. And although he couldn't see it from that distance, he hoped it was there and that Cheapside would be at home and would see him.
Suddenly he saw a small speck shot out of the statue's ear. It dropped to earth with the speed of a bullet, and, with a fluttering of wings, landed on his shoulder.
'Lor' bless me, Doc!' said Cheapside. 'I 'ad no idear you was in town. When I looked down off St Edmund's ear just now and see'd your old stovepipe 'at, you could 'ave knocked me over with a feather!'
'Well, well, Cheapside,' said the Doctor. 'I'm glad I found you so easily.'
'But what are you doin' 'ere, Doctor?' asked the sparrow. 'When I went out to Greenheath yesterday they told me you was in Wendlemere—'untin' for Pip's friend.'
'We were,' replied the Doctor. 'But we had no luck. Nobody there has seen him for months and months. However, I did hear that he'd come up to London. Then I remembered that you had promised to help us and we came to find you.'
'So I did,' said Cheapside. 'So I did, And I ain't one to go back on my word. I'll do my best. London's a big place. Still, there ain't no one knows it better than what I do. Hullo, Pip,' he said, peering into the cage under the Doctor's arm. ''Ow's the primer donner this morning?'
'Very well, thank you,' said Pippinella. 'But I'm terribly worried about my friend.'
'Don't you fret now, Pip,' said the sparrow. 'We'll find the bloke if we 'ave to 'unt the whole of England over. Just you leave it to old Cheapside. I'm the champion 'unter of the British Hempire. I am! You and the Doc—and Jip—Hullo Jip,' he said. 'I was so busy talkin' I forgot to say hullo.'
The sparrow hopped over on to the Doctor's other shoulder.
'As I was sayin',' continued the sparrow, 'you three go back 'ome and wait to hear from me. I'll bring you word as soon as I 'ave something to tell you.'
'I'm awfully glad we found him.' said John Dolittle as they made their way homeward towards Greenheath. 'He'll be much better at tracing your friend than I could ever hope to be. You see, he's lived in London all his life—knows every street and house in the whole cirty.'
'I do hope he finds him,' sighed Pippinella. 'But I'm very fearful. Suppose those spies have found him again and taken him off on that dreadful ship.'
'Now, now, Pippinella,' said the Doctor. 'We mustn't look on the dark side. I still feel confident he's around somewhere. Let's leave it to Cheapside for a while. If it's possible to find him he'll do it. He'll do anything for me.'
Reaching Greenheath, the Doctor was met by Gub–Gub and the rest of the family clamouring for news of the window–cleaner. They were tremendously interested to hear of the Doctor's visit to Wendlemere and of his meeting with Cheapside in London and they began at once to look forward to the visit of the little cockney sparrow. For they always found the worldly little city bird excellent company and never tired of his comic chatter and amusing anecdotes.
And they had not long to wait, as a matter of fact. About noon the next day, when the Dolittle household was sitting down to lunch in the wagon, two sparrows suddenly flew in at the open door and settled in the middle of the table—Mr and Mrs Cheapside.
As soon as the greetings were over Dab–Dab provided them with a place beside the white mouse (next to the salt cellar) and gave them a supply of crumbs and millet seed.
'Bless me, Doctor,' said Cheapside with his mouth full. 'It's nice to sit down to dinner with you again. Becky and me 'ave been lonely for you since the opera closed.'
'It's nice of you to say so,' replied the Doctor. 'We've missed you, too.'
'Ah, Doc,' said Cheapside. But he was secretly very pleased.
'By the way, Cheapside,' said the Doctor. 'I don't want to seem impatient, but have you started your search for Pippinella's friend yet?'
'Who's that?' asked the sparrow.
'The window–cleaner—you know,' said the Doctor, 'the man I spoke to you about yesterday.'
'Oh, 'im!' said the sparrow. 'Yes, we found him all right.'
'You found him!' cried the Doctor, springing to his feet. 'Already? Good heavens!'
'Yes,' said Cheapside. 'We ran him down this morning—about eleven o'clock.'
A regular chorus of exclamations broke out around the Doctor's luncheon table after Cheapside's extraordinary statement.
'When will he come here?' asked Gub–Gub, climbing up on to his chair to make himself heard. 'I'm so anxious to see that window–cleaner.'
'How was he looking?' asked Pippinella.
'Whereabouts did you find him?' Dab–Dab wanted to know.
'But, Cheapside,' said the Doctor. 'How on earth did you do it in so short a time?'
'Well,' said the sparrow when the general noise and clatter had quieted down, 'the first thing I did was to go around to the gangs.'
'What do you mean, the gangs?' squeaked the white mouse.
'The sparrow gangs, of course,' said Cheapside. 'The city sparrows are divided into gangs. Very exclusive, some of them, too. For instance, the West–Enders; oh, my! They're lah–di–dah, they are! Live in Berkeley Square, Park Lane and Belgravia. Call 'emselves the Four Thousand— gentry, you know. They wouldn't be seen speakin' to a White–chapel sparrow or any of the Wapping gang, Mile–Enders, Houndsditchers and low bird–life like that. Ho, no, indeed. Then there's the sort of betwixt–and–betweeners—the Chelsea push, live among the artists; the Highgate and Hampstead lot, 'ang around among the writers, they do. They're kind of half–and–half, sort of dingy—you know, down–at–heel genteel—look glum on Sundays, never do their fightin' in the street, all for keepin' up appearances. But they're all the same to me, see? Whitechapel, Highgate or Belgravia, I don't take no lip from none of them.
'Well, when you says you wants to find this window–washer of yours, I says to the missus, I says: 'Becky, the Doc wants this bloke found. It's up to us to run 'im down. You go 'round the high–life gangs—you see, she uses better class talk than what I do—and I'll go 'round the East Enders and the middle–class 'ippocrites. I'll meet you on the top of Cleopatra's Needle at ten o'clock sharp. Tell the gang leaders the job is for the Doctor and I'll want to know the reason why it ain't done right. If that bloomin' window–swabber ain't found by noon the feathers'll begin to fly—and they won't be mine, neither.
'So Becky goes off one way and I goes off another. The first bunch I hinvestigates is the Greenwich squad. They 'ang 'round the docks, all the way from the Tower to the Isle of Dogs. I looks up the leader right away, One–Eyed Alf, they calls 'im—the Wapping Terror. Thinks 'imself a fighter. I 'ad to push 'is 'ead in the gutter before I could make him listen to reason. "Hark at me, you crumb–snatchin' Stevedore," I says," 'ave there been any strangers come 'round your district lately?"
'"Ow should I know?" 'e says off–' and like, "I ain't the Lord Mayor!"
'"Well, look 'ere," I says, "You get busy with your boys and bloomin' well find out, see? There's a window–cleaner missin' and the Doctor wants 'im found. Your gang of pickpockets will know if any new faces have settled in the Greenwich District. I'll be back this way in half an hour. And I'll hexcept reports, see! Now, hop about it, you moth–eaten son of a dishrag!"
'It's no use mincin' words with that Greenwich lot. A kick behind the ear is the only hargument they understand. Well, then, I goes off up the river for Chelsea, to set the next gang to work.
'Inside of half an hour,' Cheapside continued, 'I'd got around all the gangs in my half of London. And I felt pretty sure that if your friend had settled anywhere within their boundaries I'd get to hear of it, all right, because, you'd be surprised, there's nothing that escapes the eye of a city sparrow. Other birds what visit towns casual, as you might say, like the thrushes and starlings, that come into the parks and gardens—well, they don't bother much with the human side of city life. They're only visitors, anyway. But we London sparrows, we are citizens, part of the town. You could ask any bird in the Piccadilly circus gang at what hour any of the theatres close up and they could tell you to a minute. You see, they get their living picking up the scraps of cake that the ushers sweep out when the audiences go home. The Westminster lot could tell you the name of any member of Parliament that you might see going or coming out of the House of Commons. The Pall Mall set could spell off the membership list of the Athenaeum Club for you—with the family history of the waiters and all. The St James Park lot could tell you what the queen had for breakfast and whether the royal babies slept well last night. We go everywhere. We see everything. Yes, when it comes to city news there ain't nothing we don't know. Ah, many's the 'air–raisin' yarn I could spin yer of outlandish goin's–on in 'igh places—Jiminy!
'Well, to return to where we was on my way back to Cleopatra's Needle to keep my appointment with Becky 'ere. I drops in again on One–Eyed Alf, to see what news 'e 'ad for me. 'E told me as 'ow he tracked down three or four window–washers, new arrivals, in his district. But not one of them answered the description I'd given 'im. You remember Pippinella had told me that 'er man had a scar across the side of 'is 'ead where the 'air didn't grow no more. And, although several of Alf's gang had spent hours 'angin' 'round sundry window–cleaners at work, waiting for them to take their 'ats off to scratch their 'eads, they 'adn't seen one with a scar like what you canary 'ad described.'
'But he might not be working at window–cleaning at all now,' said Pippinella. 'That wasn't his real profession.'
'Yes, I know. But we found him, anyway,' said Cheapside, 'as you will hear. And it came about through that scar you told me of, too. I questioned Alf for a few minutes and I come to the conclusion as 'ow 'e 'ad covered the ground thorough. So I scratches Greenwich and the Lower River off the list and goes on to meet Becky.'
'Yes, and you didn't get there by ten, as you said you would,' chirped Mrs Cheapside, bringing her sharp little nose out of a saucer of milk she was drinking.
'Of all the—Now, ain't that just like a woman, Doctor?' cried Cheapside. ''Ow could I, with all that ground to cover? And I suppose you ain't never kept me waitin', Mrs Quick Tongue? I suppose you don't remember that time last winter when I sat shivering in the―'
'Come, come,' said the Doctor quietly, 'Don't quarrel, Get on and tell us about the window–cleaner.'
'Becky told me,' Cheapside went on, 'that she hadn't been able to find out nothing. "It's queer, Beck," I says—"very queer." Then she says to me, she says, "Maybe the man's sick"—you know you'd spoken of his being unwell—"and if 'e is sick," says Becky, "he 'd not be seen by the ordinary sparrows. Better get the hospital birds on the job."
'"Right you are," I says. And off we both go to look up the hospitals. There's quite a lot of them in London, you know. But with the 'elp of some gang leaders we goes around them all. When we'd come to the last of 'em and still 'adn't 'eard nothing I say to the missus, I says: "Becky, it looks as though we'd got to go back to the Doctor with empty 'ands."
'"It's a shame," she says. "And 'im trustin' us and all."
'And then, just as we was movin' off to come 'ere, up flies One–Eyed Alf, the Wapping Terror.
'"We've found 'im," 'e says, short like.
'"You 'ave?" I says. "Where is 'e?"
'"'E's in the Workhouse Infirmary," 'e says, "over in Billingsgate."
'"You're sure it's 'im," says Becky.
'"Yes," says 'e. "Not a doubt of it. Come over and take a look at 'im, if you don't believe me."
'Then we flies off with Alf and he takes us to a dingy sort of place in Billingsgate, next to a glue factory. It's a sort of an institution for the destitute. Old men and women and folks that ain't got no 'ome is took in there. And those what are able–bodied 'as to work, and those what ain't walks around in a yard with 'igh walls. A cheerless sort of place.
'"Come over 'ere," says Alf, leading us off to the north end of the yard. "This is the infirmary, where they keeps the sick ones, that yellow brick building with all the windows in it."
'We follows 'im and he flies along a line of windows, lookin' in as he passes, and at the fifth one he stops and we lights beside 'im on the sill. Inside we sees a bed and am man's 'ead a–lyin' on the pillow. Across the side of 'is 'ead was a scar. I goes close up to the glass, and presently the man rolls 'is 'ead from side to side and starts talking to 'isself. "Pippinella," he cries. "Where are you? They've opened the hole in the floor and the papers are gone."
'What he meant I don't know. But as soon as I 'eard 'im call the canary's name I knew we'd run the right man down at last.
'"Come on," says Becky. "That's 'im, all right. Let's go and tell the Doctor, quick." And 'ere we are.'
The sparrow had hardly finished speaking before the Doctor had risen from his chair and was reaching for his hat.
'Thank you, Cheapside,' said he. 'We are both ever so grateful to you. If you and your wife have finished lunch we will go down there at once, and you can show us the way. Did you mark the room, so I can inquire for the right bed? We don't even know the man's name.'
'I couldn't tell you what the inside of the infirmary is like, Doc,' said Cheapside. 'But you can find him, all right, because I saw a card hung upon the foot of his bed and on it was written a number—No.17.'
'Can't I come with you, Doctor?' asked Gub–Gub, as John Dolittle hurried towards the door of the wagon.
'I'm sorry, Gub–Gub,' said the Doctor. 'But I'm afraid it won't be possible. You see, I'm going to a hospital.'
'But I don't mind going to a hospital,' said Gub–Gub.
'No, quite so,' said John Dolittle. 'But—er—I'm a little afraid they may not let me in if I brought too many pets. They're sometimes rather fussy in hospitals.'
Gub–Gub was very disappointed, but the Doctor had to be quite firm because he was really afraid that he might not be admitted himself if he took the pig with him. Jip, too, had to be left at home for the same reason. Finally John Dolittle set out with Pippinella and Mr and Mrs Cheapside for London.