"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?"
I didn't--for my eyes were not as sharp as Miranda's. But presently from somewhere in the murky dusk I heard Bumpo singing his African comic songs with the full force of his enormous voice. And in a little, by peering and peering in the direction of the sound, I at last made out a dim mass of tattered, splintered wreckage--all that remained of the poor Curlew-- floating low down upon the water.
A hulloa came through the night. And I answered it. We kept it up, calling to one another back and forth across the calm night sea. And a few minutes later the two halves of our brave little ruined ship bumped gently together again.
Now that I was nearer and the moon was higher I could see more plainly. Their half of the ship was much bigger than mine.
It lay partly upon its side; and most of them were perched upon the top munching ship's biscuit.
But close down to the edge of the water, using the sea's calm surface for a mirror and a piece of broken bottle for a razor, John Dolittle was shaving his face by the light of the moon.