Part II Chapter 5 Doctor Dolittle's Return by Hugh Lofting
THE FAREWELL
"When the time was at hand for the eclipse to begin there was quite a gathering to see the show. I had calculated the exact point on the moon—pretty exact, anyhow—from which it could best be seen. As I gazed over the great crowd it seemed as though every creature in the moon had collected there. Of course this was not true. But it looked like it. I have never seen such a tremendous herd—not even when we called the animals together on the Island of No Man's Land off the coast of Africa to set up the Post Office and the classes in animal writing.
"But the crowd had not only come to see the eclipse; they had come to see me off. Many—some of them grateful patients whom I had cured of sicknesses—brought presents. Foodstuffs and the like. They wanted to show their gratitude. It was very touching. I thanked them as best I could, bade them good-bye and wished them luck. The Moon Man himself had said he would set off the bonfire signals. It was a ticklish business, this lighting of so much explosive stuff; and he was the only one—with his big strides and speed of running—who could do it without getting hurt.
"Exactly at the time I had foretold, the big shadow began to creep across the earth and the light on the moon grew dim. The crowd watching was greatly impressed. I believe many of them thought I had had a hand in it myself and was deliberately darkening the earth to suit my own purposes.
"The bonfires were set off, a few minutes apart, and great enormous columns of smoke shot up into the air. The fumes of that explosive wood rolled all about us making every one splutter and cough. Finally it cleared away. I hoped that one at least of the signals had been sighted on the earth.
"It was a very impressive scene. We were standing in a wide plain between two ranges of mountains. The watching crowd of moon creatures had drawn away a little, leaving plenty of space for the Mammoth Locust to take off on his long journey. The baggage was on board, strapped down securely by ropes of vine-bark. Chee-Chee, Polynesia and I stood at the locust's side ready to go.
"Suddenly one solitary figure separated itself from that ring of watchers and stalked out into the open towards me. It was a cat."
Polynesia jumped as usual, and Jip snorted something between a growl and a grunt.
"I think Stubbins has told you," the Doctor went on, "that I had already met with a colony of cats in my wanderings over the moon. I had great difficulty in learning their language. They were so reticent—didn't seem inclined to talk, I mean—even when it looked as if they had something on their minds to say. Well, you know, without being told, that all animals of the same kind are not the same. Each one is different. And certainly this cat was different. Usually cats are fond of places rather than people. Well, this goes to show that this particular cat did not think more of places than she did of people. As it happened, I had cured her of a bad attack of bronchitis. She did not like the moon, but, apparently, she liked me.
"She came stalking across the wide open space all alone. When she got to me she said, 'Doctor Dolittle, I want to go with you.' That was all. I had never been fond of cats. And yet I know of no exact reason why I should feel less friendly towards her kind than I did towards any other sort of animal. On the other hand, I knew of course that if I took her into my household down here many of you would object.
"I argued with her. I told her cats had many enemies in the world where I was going. She said, 'Don't bother about my enemies, Doctor. I'll take care of them.' Then—still hoping to discourage her, I said, 'But you understand that if I take you, there is to be no killing—birds, mice and so forth. We can't have any of that, you know.' All she answered was, 'John Dolittle, I'm a moon cat. For thousands of years we have not killed birds—or any living creature. We have learned here to live on other things. We hunt no more. I want to see the earth, where my people came from. Take me with you.'
"Well—there you are—there was no answering her argument. She was running a big risk. And she knew it.
"'Very well,' I said at last. 'Get aboard the locust.' And without another word she climbed up on to the insect's back. There Chee-Chee stowed her in a crate and made her fast for the big journey.
"But the worst part of the whole business for me was saying good-bye to Otho Bludge. It was not easy. As I told you, I had realized of a sudden how terribly lonely the poor fellow was going to be. Perhaps he would never have felt so if I had not come to the moon. It is true this was his own doing—yet, so far as his losing my company was concerned, it made no matter. He had said very little to me after he had told me I could go. But now when he came striding over towards us, as we stood by the locust's side, I wondered what was going on inside his mind. He was about to say good-bye to the first human being he had talked with in thousands of years.
"He held out his hand. I remember asking myself how it was he had not forgptten that this was the fashion in which the people of the earth bade one another farewell. I did not know what to say. At last it was he who spoke.
"'Good-bye,' he said, in an awkward kind of way. 'Do you think that—some day—you may come back?'"
"Oh," quacked Dab-Dab, "I do hope you didn't promise him you would, Doctor!"
"No," said John Dolittle, "I didn't promise anything. Although I must admit the moon was a most interesting place to visit. No—I just said, 'Well, Otho, keep off the goy-goy and you'll still live longer than any of us. I have left a dozen bottles of the medicine in your hut. But you won't need them if you will only follow the diet I have told you to.'
"It was a terrible moment. I was anxious to get it over with. He turned and moved away. Evidently at the very last he would sooner not see our going. I climbed aboard the locust. My size, you must remember, was terrific. But even when I lay down flat on the creature's back—over his thorax, his shoulders—there still seemed to be lots of room to spare. We had on board many of those oxygen lilies, Stubbins, which we used on the other trip. I pulled one up, handy to dip my nose in. The locust scrabbled his feet into the sand of the valley so he could make a good take-off. 'Good-bye!' yelled the crowd. 'Good-bye!' we called back. With a terrific kick of his hind legs the insect shot up into the air and spread his wings.
"The trip was terrible. I suppose having stayed on the moon so long my lungs had got sort of accustomed to the air up there and unaccustomed to the air of the earth—to say nothing of the dreadful dead belt. Anyway, when we did reach that terrible part of the journey I honestly thought it was all over with me. The locust had got instructions about the navigation from Jamara Bumblelily, the Giant Moth, before he set off. But it was terrible anyhow. I grabbed one of the oxygen flowers and stuck my face in it. Nevertheless I became unconscious—and stayed so till after we landed. When I came to at last I heard you, Stubbins, talking with Polynesia. Everything was still. I looked up at the moon, steady in the sky. Last time I had seen it, it was swinging around the heavens like a crazy thing.
"Well, that's all. Here I am, none the worse for the trip—the most interesting journey I have ever made in my life."
Quite clearly the Doctor felt that his tale had rather saddened us towards the end. As a matter of fact all the animals were certainly very serious when he finished.
"Tell me, Doctor," said Jip at last, "do you think the Moon Man will be able to manage by himself—now?"
"Of course he will," Dab-Dab broke in. "How did he manage before the Doctor went there?"
"I wasn't asking you, Dab-Dab," said Jip quietly. "I was asking the Doctor."
"Oh, I think he'll be all right," said John Dolittle after a pause.
"He'll miss you, won't he?" said Jip. "Mighty sporting of him to let you go, wasn't it?—Humph! The 'Gentleman in the Moon.' Good luck to him!"
"Poor man!" said Whitey—always sentimental and romantic.—"Left all alone!"
"Hum! Hum!" said Gub-Gub. "It must be kind of hard to be the only one of your kind in a world."
"But you won't go back, Doctor, will you?" said Dab-Dab anxiously. "After all, you've seen the moon now—Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. There's no sense in your fooling with it any more, is there? You know what I mean?"
"Yes, I understand, Dab-Dab," said the Doctor. "But"—his voice trailed off in a sleepy tone tone—"it was—er—well, it was a very interesting place."
I saw that he was getting tired. I made a signal to the animals and Matthew. They understood.
"All right, Doctor," I said. "Thank you. We will now leave you in peace to sleep. Good night!"
I folded up my notebooks. John Dolittle's head was nodding on his chest. We all crept out on tiptoe and closed the door behind us.