Animals -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Human-animal communication -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
I sprang up as though some one had stuck a pin in me. And there,
perched at the very end of my raft, her beautiful golden tail glowing
dimly in the starlight, sat Miranda, the Purple Bird-of-Paradise!
Never have I been so glad to see any one in my life. I almost fell into
the water as I leapt to hug her.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” said she. “I guessed you must be tired
after all you’ve been through—Don’t squash the life out of me, boy: I’m
not a stuffed duck, you know.”
“Oh, Miranda, you dear old thing,” said I, “I’m so glad to see you.
Tell me, where is the Doctor? Is he alive?”
“Of course he’s alive—and it’s my firm belief he always will be. He’s
over there, about forty miles to the westward.”
“What’s he doing there?”
“He’s sitting on the other half of the _Curlew_ shaving himself—or he
was, when I left him.”
“Well, thank Heaven he’s alive!” said I—“And Bumpo—and the animals, are
they all right?”
“Yes, they’re with him. Your ship broke in half in the storm. The
Doctor had tied you down when he found you stunned. And the part you
were on got separated and floated away. Golly, it _was_ a storm! One
has to be a gull or an albatross to stand that sort of weather. I had
been watching for the Doctor for three weeks, from a cliff-top; but
last night I had to take refuge in a cave to keep my tail-feathers from
blowing out. As soon as I found the Doctor, he sent me off with some
porpoises to help us in our search. There had been quite a gathering
of sea-birds waiting to greet the Doctor; but the rough weather sort of
broke up the arrangements that had been made to welcome him properly.
It was the petrel that first gave us the tip where you were.”
“Well, but how can I get to the Doctor, Miranda?—I haven’t any oars.”
“Get to him!—Why, you’re going to him now. Look behind you.”
I turned around. The moon was just rising on the sea’s edge. And I now
saw that my raft was moving through the water, but so gently that I had
not noticed it before.
“What’s moving us?” I asked.
“The porpoises,” said Miranda.
I went to the back of the raft and looked down into the water. And just
below the surface I could see the dim forms of four big porpoises,
their sleek skins glinting in the moonlight, pushing at the raft with
their noses.
“They’re old friends of the Doctor’s,” said Miranda. “They’d do
anything for John Dolittle. We should see his party soon now. We’re
pretty near the place I left them—Yes, there they are! See that dark
shape?—No, more to the right of where you’re looking. Can’t you
make out the figure of the black man standing against the sky?—Now
Chee-Chee spies us—he’s waving. Don’t you see them?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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