Hugh Lofting: Doctor Dolittle's Return

"But listen," I said. "The Doctor—can't we—"

"Sh!" she whispered. "He's woken up. Look!"

I glanced towards the locust's back. An enormous foot was sliding down towards us. It was followed by a still more enormous leg. Finally the body came in sight. Polynesia and I moved back a little. Then, with a run, the whole mass of an unbelievably big human figure came slithering down the locust's wings and slumped into a heap on the lawn.

I rushed forward and gazed into the motionless face. The eyes were closed. The skin was tanned to a deep brown colour by sun and wind. But, for me, there was no mistaking the mouth, the nose, the chin.

It was John Dolittle.

I ran into the house for the brandy flask which was always kept in the dispensary. But when I got back the Doctor was standing up. He was eighteen feet three and a half inches high. (This I am sure of, because I measured him the next day while he was lying asleep.)

It is difficult to describe his appearance. His sun hat was home–made out of materials he had evidently gathered in the moon and so were his clothes—all but his trousers. These were fashioned out of the blankets we had taken up with us.

"Doctor, Doctor!" I cried. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you back!"

To my surprise he did not answer at once.

I noticed that Chee–Chee the monkey had got over his sickness enough to come down into one of the willows nearby, where Polynesia had joined him. Dab–Dab also had come forward and was now gazing at the Doctor with an odd expression, a mixture of motherly affection, worry, great joy and a little fear. But no one uttered a word. We were all waiting in silence for this strange figure before us to speak.

Presently the Doctor stretched down his hand and took a couple of tottering, unsteady steps towards me. He seemed dreadfully weak and sort of dazed. Once he lifted up his left hand and brushed it across his eyes, as though his sight, as well as his legs, was uncertain. Then his enormous right hand grasped mine so that it disappeared entirely. At last in a curious hesitating way he said: "Why—why, it's Stubbins! Good old … good old … S–s–s–stubbins. Er—er—how are you?" The voice was the only part of him that had not changed. If his face had been blacked and he had grown horns in the moon no one, in any doubt before, could be uncertain now of who it was that spoke. That voice did something to his friends over by the house, who still waited with almost bated breath. For suddenly all of them, Jip, Gub–Gub, the white mouse, Cheapside, Too–Too, Matthew and Theodosia, broke out into resounding cheers and came flocking across the lawn on the run.

They formed a ring around him, all talking at once.

He smiled and tried to say something to each of them. But in a moment he stopped short, swaying.

"Stubbins," he muttered. "I must sit down."

He sank heavily to the grass and propped his back against a tree.

"Can I get you anything, Doctor," I asked. "Brandy?"

"No, I'll be—be all right soon, Stubbins. It's my—er—er—breathing, you know. Funny how I've forgotten the language—partly. Haven't talked it in so long. Have to—er—stop to remember words."

"Well, don't try to talk now, Doctor," I said. "Just rest here."

"The change of air–pressure … c–c–catches my breath," he murmured, closing his eyes. "And the stronger gravity—with my weight. Never dreamed the change would be so great. Just take my pulse, will you?"

I took out the watch and held his wrist.

"It's all right, Doctor," I said after a while. "It's a little fast, but strong and regular."

I turned to Theodosia and asked her to get some mattresses and bedding from the house. She was not sure where to look for them, so I went with her.

"Mercy, Master Tommy!" she whispered when we were inside. "The Lord be praised 'e's back! But did you ever see such a size?"

"It's terrific, Theodosia," I said. "I was over nine feet when I returned. But he's twice that height."

"But where are we going to put him?" she asked. "None of these bedrooms is big enough—even if 'e could get through the door."

"Well," I said, "we'll think up some way to manage. Let's get him comfortable where he is for the present."

"Don't you think you ought to 'ave a doctor look at 'im, Master Tommy? I 'ad a sister once who came down with dropsy. Like an elephant she swelled up. But a doctor gave 'er some pills and she got all right."

"Yes, Theodosia," I said. "I would feel happier if I had a doctor to keep an eye on him. And if I have to, I will. But so long as John Dolittle is conscious I know he would rather I didn't."

"Doctor Pinchbeck, over to Oxenthorpe, is very good, they tell me," said she. "Now where are them blankets, Master Tommy?"

"In these three cupboards here," I said. "Look, I'll load you up and then you send Matthew back to help me get these mattresses out. We're going to need three at least—maybe four."

"All right," she called, running down the stairs under a pile of bedclothes.

"And listen, Mrs. Mugg," I called after her. "Don't let those animals fuss the Doctor with questions. Let him rest."

Well, we got the poor man comfortably settled after a while. By placing four double–bed mattresses end to end we made a bed big enough for him, on the lawn beneath the elms. Then we got all the bolsters in the house, made them into a pile at one end, and covered them with a sheet. That was his pillow. I got him to roll over a couple of turns from where he sat; and there he was, safe in bed.

"It's pretty cool out here, Doctor," I said. "How many bedclothes do you think you'll need?"

He said he thought two thicknesses would be enough. So Theodosia got some carpet thread and by stitching four blankets into one piece, twice, she had two blankets big enough to spread over him.

"But listen, Tommy," said Dab–Dab, "what if it should rain? There are clouds over there to the south–west."

"You're right," I said. "So there are. Let me see, I wonder what—"

"How about the circus tent?" said Gub–Gub. "That's big enough to keep the rain off him."

"Splendid!" I cried. "Let's go and get it." And off we all went towards the stable.

The big tent, a perfectly tremendous affair, was all that the Doctor had kept from his circus days. He had thought it might come in handy some time for housing larger animals in the Zoo. It was stored in the hay–loft over the stable. It weighed I don't know how much. But I do know that it took all of our strength to drag it down out of the loft. But once we got it down, the old horse told us to hitch him on to one end of it with a rope and collar. Then he trailed it across the grass to where the Doctor lay.

We found that some of the poles were missing. But after we had sent Chee–Chee aloft in the trees to tie the ridge–ends to branches, we finally managed to get it strung up and pegged down somehow so that it would serve as a shelter over the bed.

"This is splendid, Tommy," said Dab–Dab when we had finished. "Because, you see, the tent is hidden here from the road by the house and trees. No one will suspect anything."

"Yes," I said, "the Doctor can make this his bedroom till he has grown small again—the same as I did—and can live in the house. We'll have to get some furniture out for him later. But he won't need it yet. Now comes the question of food, Dab–Dab. Have we plenty of milk?"

"About three quarts," said the housekeeper.

I asked Matthew to get me some oil–lamps. And after we had them lighted we went inside the tent.

For the present the Doctor seemed very comfortable. His breathing sounded a little better already. He drank up the three quarts of milk as if it had been no more than a glassful. I guessed that, as usual, he had been too busy getting ready to travel to bother about eating and had probably gone without food for many hours. I rigged up a place for myself to sleep beside him and told the others they could go to bed.