THIS news about Long Arrow made us all very sad. And I could see from
the silent dreamy way the Doctor took his tea that he was dreadfully
upset. Every once in a while he would stop eating altogether and sit
staring at the spots on the kitchen table-cloth as though his thoughts
were far away; till Dab-Dab, who was watching to see that he got a good
meal, would cough or rattle the pots in the sink.
I did my best to cheer him up by reminding him of all he had done for
Luke and his wife that afternoon. And when that didn’t seem to work, I
went on talking about our preparations for the voyage.
“But you see, Stubbins,” said he as we rose from the table and Dab-Dab
and Chee-Chee began to clear away, “I don’t know where to go now. I
feel sort of lost since Miranda brought me this news. On this voyage I
had planned going to see Long Arrow. I had been looking forward to it
for a whole year. I felt he might help me in learning the language of
the shellfish—and perhaps in finding some way of getting to the bottom
of the sea. But now?—He’s gone! And all his great knowledge has gone
with him.”
Then he seemed to fall a-dreaming again.
“Just to think of it!” he murmured. “Long Arrow and I, two
students—Although I’d never met him, I felt as though I knew him quite
well. For, in his way—without any schooling—he has, all his life, been
trying to do the very things which I have tried to do in mine—And now
he’s gone!—A whole world lay between us—And only a bird knew us both!”
We went back into the study, where Jip brought the Doctor his slippers
and his pipe. And after the pipe was lit and the smoke began to fill
the room the old man seemed to cheer up a little.
“But you will go on some voyage, Doctor, won’t you?” I asked—“even if
you can’t go to find Long Arrow.”
He looked up sharply into my face; and I suppose he saw how anxious I
was. Because he suddenly smiled his old, boyish smile and said,
“Yes, Stubbins. Don’t worry. We’ll go. We mustn’t stop working and
learning, even if poor Long Arrow has disappeared—But where to go:
that’s the question. Where shall we go?”
There were so many places that I wanted to go that I couldn’t make up
my mind right away. And while I was still thinking, the Doctor sat up
in his chair and said,
“I tell you what we’ll do, Stubbins: it’s a game I used to play when I
was young—before Sarah came to live with me. I used to call it Blind
Travel. Whenever I wanted to go on a voyage, and I couldn’t make up my
mind where to go, I would take the atlas and open it with my eyes shut.
Next, I’d wave a pencil, still without looking, and stick it down on
whatever page had fallen open. Then I’d open my eyes and look. It’s a
very exciting game, is Blind Travel. Because you have to swear, before
you begin, that you will go to the place the pencil touches, come what
may. Shall we play it?”
“Oh, let’s!” I almost yelled. “How thrilling! I hope it’s China—or
Borneo—or Bagdad.”
And in a moment I had scrambled up the bookcase, dragged the big atlas
from the top shelf and laid it on the table before the Doctor.
I knew every page in that atlas by heart. How many days and nights I
had lingered over its old faded maps, following the blue rivers from
the mountains to the sea; wondering what the little towns really looked
like, and how wide were the sprawling lakes! I had had a lot of fun
with that atlas, traveling, in my mind, all over the world. I can see
it now: the first page had no map; it just told you that it was printed
in Edinburgh in 1808, and a whole lot more about the book. The next
page was the Solar System, showing the sun and planets, the stars and
the moon. The third page was the chart of the North and South Poles.
Then came the hemispheres, the oceans, the continents and the countries.
As the Doctor began sharpening his pencil a thought came to me.
“What if the pencil falls upon the North Pole,” I asked, “will we have
to go there?”
“No. The rules of the game say you don’t have to go any place you’ve
been to before. You are allowed another try. I’ve been to the North
Pole,” he ended quietly, “so we shan’t have to go there.”