Our new quarters we found very satisfactory. Inside the spacious shell, the snail's wide back was extremely comfortable to sit and lounge on-- better than a sofa, when you once got accustomed to the damp and clammy feeling of it. He asked us, shortly after we started, if we wouldn't mind taking off our boots, as the hobnails in them hurt his back as we ran excitedly from one side to another to see the different sights.
The motion was not unpleasant, very smooth and even; in fact, but for the landscape passing outside, you would not know, on the level going, that you were moving at all.
I had always thought for some reason or other that the bottom of the sea was flat. I found that it was just as irregular and changeful as the surface of the dry land. We climbed over great mountain-ranges, with peaks towering above peaks. We threaded our way through dense forests of tall sea-plants. We crossed wide empty stretches of sandy mud, like deserts--so vast that you went on for a whole day with nothing ahead of you but a dim horizon.
Sometimes the scene was moss-covered, rolling country, green and restful to the eye like rich pastures; so that you almost looked to see sheep cropping on these underwater downs. And sometimes the snail would roll us forward inside him like peas, when he suddenly dipped downward to descend into some deep secluded valley with steeply sloping sides.
In these lower levels we often came upon the shadowy shapes of dead ships, wrecked and sunk Heaven only knows how many years ago; and passing them we would speak in hushed whispers like children seeing monuments in churches.
Here too, in the deeper, darker waters, monstrous fishes, feeding quietly in caves and hollows would suddenly spring up, alarmed at our approach, and flash away into the gloom with the speed of an arrow. While other bolder ones, all sorts of unearthly shapes and colors, would come right up and peer in at us through the shell.
"I suppose they think we are a sort of sanaquarium," said Bumpo--"I'd hate to be a fish."
It was a thrilling and ever-changing show. The Doctor wrote or sketched incessantly. Before long we had filled all the blank note-books we had left. Then we searched our pockets for any odd scraps of paper on which to jot down still more observations. We even went through the used books a second time, writing in between the lines, scribbling all over the covers, back and front.
Our greatest difficulty was getting enough light to see by. In the lower waters it was very dim. On the third day we passed a band of fire-eels, a sort of large, marine glow-worm; and the Doctor asked the snail to get them to come with us for a way.
This they did, swimming alongside; and their light was very helpful, though not brilliant.
How our giant shellfish found his way across that vast and gloomy world was a great puzzle to us. John Dolittle asked him by what means he navigated-- how he knew he was on the right road to Puddleby River. And what the snail said in reply got the Doctor so excited, that having no paper left, he tore out the lining of his precious hat and covered it with notes.
By night of course it was impossible to see anything; and during the hours of darkness the snail used to swim instead of crawl.
When he did so he could travel at a terrific speed, just by waggling that long tail of his. This was the reason why we completed the trip in so short a time five and a half days.
The air of our chamber, not having a change in the whole voyage, got very close and stuffy; and for the first two days we all had headaches. But after that we got used to it and didn't mind it in the least.
Early in the afternoon of the sixth day, we noticed we were climbing a long gentle slope. As we went upward it grew lighter.
Finally we saw that the snail had crawled right out of the water altogether and had now come to a dead stop on a long strip of gray sand.
Behind us we saw the surface of the sea rippled by the wind. On our left was the mouth of a river with the tide running out.
While in front, the low flat land stretched away into the mist-- which prevented one from seeing very far in any direction. A pair of wild ducks with craning necks and whirring wings passed over us and disappeared like shadows, seaward.
As a landscape, it was a great change from the hot brilliant sunshine of Popsipetel.
With the same whistling suction sound, the snail made the opening for us to crawl out by. As we stepped down upon the marshy land we noticed that a fine, drizzling autumn rain was falling.
"Can this be Merrie England?" asked Bumpo, peering into the fog--"doesn't look like any place in particular. Maybe the snail hasn't brought us right after all."
"Yes," sighed Polynesia, shaking the rain oft her feathers, "this is England all right--You can tell it by the beastly climate."
"Oh, but fellows," cried Jip, as he sniffed up the air in great gulps, "it has a SMELL--a good and glorious smell!--Excuse me a minute: I see a water-rat."
"Sh!--Listen!" said Chee-Chee through teeth that chattered with the cold. "There's Puddleby church-clock striking four. Why don't we divide up the baggage and get moving. We've got a long way to foot it home across the marshes."
"Let's hope," I put in, "that Dab-Dab has a nice fire burning in the kitchen."
"I'm sure she will," said the Doctor as he picked out his old handbag from among the bundles--"With this wind from the East she'll need it to keep the animals in the house warm. Come on.
Let's hug the river-bank so we don't miss our way in the fog. You know, there's something rather attractive in the bad weather of England--when you've got a kitchen-fire to look forward to. . . .
Four o'clock! Come along--we'll just be in nice time for tea."
