HAVING thanked the sharks again for their kindness, the Doctor and his
pets set off once more on their journey home in the swift ship with the
three red sails.
As they moved out into the open sea, the animals all went downstairs
to see what their new boat was like inside; while the Doctor leant on
the rail at the back of the ship with a pipe in his mouth, watching the
Canary Islands fade away in the blue dusk of the evening.
While he was standing there, wondering how the monkeys were getting
on—and what his garden would look like when he got back to Puddleby,
Dab-Dab came tumbling up the stairs, all smiles and full of news.
“Doctor!” she cried. “This ship of the pirates is simply
beautiful—absolutely. The beds downstairs are made of primrose
silk—with hundreds of big pillows and cushions; there are thick, soft
carpets on the floors; the dishes are made of silver; and there are all
sorts of good things to eat and drink—special things; the larder—well,
it’s just like a shop, that’s all. You never saw anything like it in
your life—Just think—they kept five different kinds of sardines, those
men! Come and look.... Oh, and we found a little room down there with
the door locked; and we are all crazy to get in and see what’s inside.
Jip says it must be where the pirates kept their treasure. But we can’t
open the door. Come down and see if you can let us in.”
So the Doctor went downstairs and he saw that it was indeed a beautiful
ship. He found the animals gathered round a little door, all talking
at once, trying to guess what was inside. The Doctor turned the handle
but it wouldn’t open. Then they all started to hunt for the key. They
looked under the mat; they looked under all the carpets; they looked
in all the cupboards and drawers and lockers—in the big chests in the
ship’s dining-room; they looked everywhere.
While they were doing this they discovered a lot of new and wonderful
things that the pirates must have stolen from other ships: Kashmir
shawls as thin as a cobweb, embroidered with flowers of gold; jars of
fine tobacco from Jamaica; carved ivory boxes full of Russian tea; an
old violin with a string broken and a picture on the back; a set of big
chess-men, carved out of coral and amber; a walking-stick which had
a sword inside it when you pulled the handle; six wine-glasses with
tourquoise and silver round the rims; and a lovely great sugar-bowl,
made of mother o’ pearl. But nowhere in the whole boat could they find
a key to fit that lock.
So they all came back to the door, and Jip peered through the key-hole.
But something had been stood against the wall on the inside and he
could see nothing.
While they were standing around, wondering what they should do, the
owl, Too-Too, suddenly said,
“Sh!—Listen!—I do believe there’s some one in there!”
They all kept still a moment. Then the Doctor said,
[Illustration: “‘Sh!—Listen!—I do believe there’s some one in there!’”]
“You must be mistaken, Too-Too. I don’t hear anything.”
“I’m sure of it,” said the owl. “Sh!—There it is again—Don’t you hear
that?”
“No, I do not,” said the Doctor. “What kind of a sound is it?”
“I hear the noise of some one putting his hand in his pocket,” said the
owl.
“But that makes hardly any sound at all,” said the Doctor. “You
couldn’t hear that out here.”
“Pardon me, but I can,” said Too-Too. “I tell you there is some one
on the other side of that door putting his hand in his pocket. Almost
everything makes _some_ noise—if your ears are only sharp enough
to catch it. Bats can hear a mole walking in his tunnel under the
earth—and they think they’re good hearers. But we owls can tell you,
using only one ear, the color of a kitten from the way it winks in the
dark.”
“Well, well!” said the Doctor. “You surprise me. That’s very
interesting.... Listen again and tell me what he’s doing now.”
“I’m not sure yet,” said Too-Too, “if it’s a man at all. Maybe it’s a
woman. Lift me up and let me listen at the key-hole and I’ll soon tell
you.”
So the Doctor lifted the owl up and held him close to the lock of the
door.
After a moment Too-Too said,
“Now he’s rubbing his face with his left hand. It is a small hand and
a small face. It _might_ be a woman—No. Now he pushes his hair back off
his forehead—It’s a man all right.”
“Women sometimes do that,” said the Doctor.
“True,” said the owl. “But when they do, their long hair makes quite
a different sound.... Sh! Make that fidgety pig keep still. Now all
hold your breath a moment so I can listen well. This is very difficult,
what I’m doing now—and the pesky door is so thick! Sh! Everybody quite
still—shut your eyes and don’t breathe.”
Too-Too leaned down and listened again very hard and long.
At last he looked up into the Doctor’s face and said,
“The man in there is unhappy. He weeps. He has taken care not to
blubber or sniffle, lest we should find out that he is crying. But I
heard—quite distinctly—the sound of a tear falling on his sleeve.”
“How do you know it wasn’t a drop of water falling off the ceiling on
him?” asked Gub-Gub.
“Pshaw!—Such ignorance!” sniffed Too-Too. “A drop of water falling off
the ceiling would have made ten times as much noise!”
“Well,” said the Doctor, “if the poor fellow’s unhappy, we’ve got to
get in and see what’s the matter with him. Find me an axe, and I’ll
chop the door down.”
_THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER_