IN my long lifetime I have seen many grand and inspiring things, but
never anything that impressed me half as much as the sight of the
Whispering Rocks as they looked on the day King Jong was crowned. As
Bumpo, Chee-Chee, Polynesia, Jip and I finally reached the dizzy edge
of the great bowl and looked down inside it, it was like gazing over
a never-ending ocean of copper-colored faces; for every seat in the
theatre was filled, every man, woman and child in the island—including
Long Arrow who had been carried up on his sick bed—was there to see the
show.
Yet not a sound, not a pin-drop, disturbed the solemn silence of the
Whispering Rocks. It was quite creepy and sent chills running up and
down your spine. Bumpo told me afterwards that it took his breath away
too much for him to speak, but that he hadn’t known before that there
were that many people in the world.
Away down by the Table of the Throne stood a brand-new, brightly
colored totem-pole. All the Indian families had totem-poles and kept
them set up before the doors of their houses. The idea of a totem-pole
is something like a door-plate or a visiting card. It represents in its
carvings the deeds and qualities of the family to which it belongs.
This one, beautifully decorated and much higher than any other, was the
Dolittle or, as it was to be henceforth called, the Royal Thinkalot
totem. It had nothing but animals on it, to signify the Doctor’s great
knowledge of creatures. And the animals chosen to be shown were those
which to the Indians were supposed to represent good qualities of
character, such as, the deer for speed; the ox for perseverance; the
fish for discretion, and so on. But at the top of the totem is always
placed the sign or animal by which the family is most proud to be
known. This, on the Thinkalot pole, was an enormous parrot, in memory
of the famous Peace of the Parrots.
The Ivory Throne had been all polished with scented oil and it
glistened whitely in the strong sunlight. At the foot of it there had
been strewn great quantities of branches of flowering trees, which with
the new warmth of milder climates were now blossoming in the valleys of
the island.
Soon we saw the royal litter, with the Doctor seated in it, slowly
ascending the winding steps of the Table. Reaching the flat top at
last, it halted and the Doctor stepped out upon the flowery carpet. So
still and perfect was the silence that even at that distance above I
distinctly heard a twig snap beneath his tread.
Walking to the throne accompanied by the old man, the Doctor got up
upon the stand and sat down. How tiny his little round figure looked
when seen from that tremendous height! The throne had been made for
longer-legged kings; and when he was seated, his feet did not reach the
ground but dangled six inches from the top step.
Then the old man turned round and looking up at the people began to
speak in a quiet even voice; but every word he said was easily heard in
the furthest corner of the Whispering Rocks.
First he recited the names of all the great Popsipetel kings who
in days long ago had been crowned in this ivory chair. He spoke of
the greatness of the Popsipetel people, of their triumphs, of their
hardships. Then waving his hand towards the Doctor he began recounting
the things which this king-to-be had done. And I am bound to say that
they easily outmatched the deeds of those who had gone before him.
As soon as he started to speak of what the Doctor had achieved for the
tribe, the people, still strictly silent, all began waving their right
hands towards the throne. This gave to the vast theatre a very singular
appearance: acres and acres of something moving—with never a sound.
At last the old man finished his speech and stepping up to the chair,
very respectfully removed the Doctor’s battered high hat. He was about
to put it upon the ground; but the Doctor took it from him hastily and
kept it on his lap. Then taking up the Sacred Crown he placed it upon
John Dolittle’s head. It did not fit very well (for it had been made
for smaller-headed kings), and when the wind blew in freshly from the
sunlit sea the Doctor had some difficulty in keeping it on. But it
looked very splendid.
Turning once more to the people, the old man said,
“Men of Popsipetel, behold your elected king!—Are you content?”
And then at last the voice of the people broke loose.
“JONG! JONG!” they shouted, “LONG LIVE KING JONG!”
The sound burst upon the solemn silence with the crash of a hundred
cannon. There, where even a whisper carried miles, the shock of it was
like a blow in the face. Back and forth the mountains threw it to one
another. I thought the echoes of it would never die away as it passed
rumbling through the whole island, jangling among the lower valleys,
booming in the distant sea-caves.
Suddenly I saw the old man point upward, to the highest mountain in the
island; and looking over my shoulder, I was just in time to see the
Hanging Stone topple slowly out of sight—down into the heart of the
volcano.
“See ye, Men of the Moving Land!” the old man cried: “The stone has
fallen and our legend has come true: the King of Kings is crowned this
day!”
The Doctor too had seen the stone fall and he was now standing up
looking at the sea expectantly.
“He’s thinking of the air-chamber,” said Bumpo in my ear. “Let us hope
that the sea isn’t very deep in these parts.”
After a full minute (so long did it take the stone to fall that depth)
we heard a muffled, distant, crunching thud—and then immediately after,
a great hissing of escaping air. The Doctor, his face tense with
anxiety, sat down in the throne again still watching the blue water of
the ocean with staring eyes.
Soon we felt the island slowly sinking beneath us. We saw the sea creep
inland over the beaches as the shores went down—one foot, three feet,
ten feet, twenty, fifty, a hundred. And then, thank goodness, gently as
a butterfly alighting on a rose, it stopped! Spidermonkey Island had
come to rest on the sandy bottom of the Atlantic, and earth was joined
to earth once more.
Of course many of the houses near the shores were now under water.
Popsipetel Village itself had entirely disappeared. But it didn’t
matter. No one was drowned; for every soul in the island was high up
in the hills watching the coronation of King Jong.
The Indians themselves did not realize at the time what was taking
place, though of course they had felt the land sinking beneath them.
The Doctor told us afterwards that it must have been the shock of that
tremendous shout, coming from a million throats at once, which had
toppled the Hanging Stone off its perch. But in Popsipetel history the
story was handed down (and it is firmly believed to this day) that when
King Jong sat upon the throne, so great was his mighty weight, that the
very island itself sank down to do him honor and never moved again.
[Illustration]