Quotations.ch
  Directory : The Island of Doctor Moreau
GUIDE SUPPORT US BLOG
  • The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Island of Doctor Moreau, by H. G. Wells
  • This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
  • almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
  • re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
  • with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
  • Title: The Island of Doctor Moreau
  • Author: H. G. Wells
  • Release Date: October 14, 2004 [EBook #159]
  • [Last updated: May 26, 2012]
  • Language: English
  • *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU ***
  • This etext was created by Judith Boss, of Omaha, Nebraska, from the
  • Garden City Publishing Company, 1896 edition, and first posted in
  • August, 1994. Minor corrections made by Andrew Sly in October, 2004.
  • THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU
  • by
  • H. G. Wells
  • Contents
  • INTRODUCTION
  • I. IN THE DINGEY OF THE "LADY VAIN"
  • II. THE MAN WHO WAS GOING NOWHERE
  • III. THE STRANGE FACE
  • IV. AT THE SCHOONER'S RAIL
  • V. THE MAN WHO HAD NOWHERE TO GO
  • VI. THE EVIL-LOOKING BOATMEN
  • VII. THE LOCKED DOOR
  • VIII. THE CRYING OF THE PUMA
  • IX. THE THING IN THE FOREST
  • X. THE CRYING OF THE MAN
  • XI. THE HUNTING OF THE MAN
  • XII. THE SAYERS OF THE LAW
  • XIII. THE PARLEY
  • XIV. DOCTOR MOREAU EXPLAINS
  • XV. CONCERNING THE BEAST FOLK
  • XVI. HOW THE BEAST FOLK TASTE BLOOD
  • XVII. A CATASTROPHE
  • XVIII. THE FINDING OF MOREAU
  • XIX. MONTGOMERY'S BANK HOLIDAY
  • XX. ALONE WITH THE BEAST FOLK
  • XXI. THE REVERSION OF THE BEAST FOLK
  • XXII. THE MAN ALONE
  • INTRODUCTION.
  • ON February the First 1887, the Lady Vain was lost by collision
  • with a derelict when about the latitude 1 degree S. and longitude
  • 107 degrees W.
  • On January the Fifth, 1888--that is eleven months and four days after--my
  • uncle, Edward Prendick, a private gentleman, who certainly went
  • aboard the Lady Vain at Callao, and who had been considered drowned,
  • was picked up in latitude 5 degrees 3' S. and longitude 101 degrees W.
  • in a small open boat of which the name was illegible, but which is
  • supposed to have belonged to the missing schooner Ipecacuanha.
  • He gave such a strange account of himself that he was supposed demented.
  • Subsequently he alleged that his mind was a blank from the moment
  • of his escape from the Lady Vain. His case was discussed among
  • psychologists at the time as a curious instance of the lapse
  • of memory consequent upon physical and mental stress.
  • The following narrative was found among his papers by the undersigned,
  • his nephew and heir, but unaccompanied by any definite request
  • for publication.
  • The only island known to exist in the region in which my uncle was
  • picked up is Noble's Isle, a small volcanic islet and uninhabited.
  • It was visited in 1891 by H. M. S. Scorpion. A party of sailors
  • then landed, but found nothing living thereon except certain curious
  • white moths, some hogs and rabbits, and some rather peculiar rats.
  • So that this narrative is without confirmation in its most
  • essential particular. With that understood, there seems no harm
  • in putting this strange story before the public in accordance,
  • as I believe, with my uncle's intentions. There is at least this
  • much in its behalf: my uncle passed out of human knowledge about
  • latitude 5 degrees S. and longitude 105 degrees E., and reappeared
  • in the same part of the ocean after a space of eleven months.
  • In some way he must have lived during the interval. And it seems that
  • a schooner called the Ipecacuanha with a drunken captain, John Davies,
  • did start from Africa with a puma and certain other animals aboard
  • in January, 1887, that the vessel was well known at several ports
  • in the South Pacific, and that it finally disappeared from those seas
  • (with a considerable amount of copra aboard), sailing to its unknown
  • fate from Bayna in December, 1887, a date that tallies entirely with my
  • uncle's story.
  • CHARLES EDWARD PRENDICK.
  • (The Story written by Edward Prendick.)
  • I. IN THE DINGEY OF THE "LADY VAIN."
  • I DO not propose to add anything to what has already been written
  • concerning the loss of the "Lady Vain." As everyone knows,
  • she collided with a derelict when ten days out from Callao.
  • The longboat, with seven of the crew, was picked up eighteen days after
  • by H. M. gunboat "Myrtle," and the story of their terrible privations
  • has become quite as well known as the far more horrible "Medusa" case.
  • But I have to add to the published story of the "Lady Vain"
  • another, possibly as horrible and far stranger. It has hitherto
  • been supposed that the four men who were in the dingey perished,
  • but this is incorrect. I have the best of evidence for this assertion:
  • I was one of the four men.
  • But in the first place I must state that there never were four men
  • in the dingey,--the number was three. Constans, who was "seen
  • by the captain to jump into the gig,"{1} luckily for us and unluckily
  • for himself did not reach us. He came down out of the tangle
  • of ropes under the stays of the smashed bowsprit, some small rope
  • caught his heel as he let go, and he hung for a moment head downward,
  • and then fell and struck a block or spar floating in the water.
  • We pulled towards him, but he never came up.
  • {1} Daily News, March 17, 1887.
  • I say luckily for us he did not reach us, and I might almost
  • say luckily for himself; for we had only a small beaker
  • of water and some soddened ship's biscuits with us, so sudden
  • had been the alarm, so unprepared the ship for any disaster.
  • We thought the people on the launch would be better provisioned
  • (though it seems they were not), and we tried to hail them. They could
  • not have heard us, and the next morning when the drizzle cleared,--which
  • was not until past midday,--we could see nothing of them. We could
  • not stand up to look about us, because of the pitching of the boat.
  • The two other men who had escaped so far with me were a man named Helmar,
  • a passenger like myself, and a seaman whose name I don't know,--a short
  • sturdy man, with a stammer.
  • We drifted famishing, and, after our water had come to an end,
  • tormented by an intolerable thirst, for eight days altogether.
  • After the second day the sea subsided slowly to a glassy calm. It is
  • quite impossible for the ordinary reader to imagine those eight days.
  • He has not, luckily for himself, anything in his memory to imagine with.
  • After the first day we said little to one another, and lay
  • in our places in the boat and stared at the horizon, or watched,
  • with eyes that grew larger and more haggard every day, the misery
  • and weakness gaining upon our companions. The sun became pitiless.
  • The water ended on the fourth day, and we were already thinking
  • strange things and saying them with our eyes; but it was, I think,
  • the sixth before Helmar gave voice to the thing we had all been thinking.
  • I remember our voices were dry and thin, so that we bent towards
  • one another and spared our words. I stood out against it with all
  • my might, was rather for scuttling the boat and perishing together
  • among the sharks that followed us; but when Helmar said that if his
  • proposal was accepted we should have drink, the sailor came round
  • to him.
  • I would not draw lots however, and in the night the sailor whispered
  • to Helmar again and again, and I sat in the bows with my clasp-knife
  • in my hand, though I doubt if I had the stuff in me to fight;
  • and in the morning I agreed to Helmar's proposal, and we handed
  • halfpence to find the odd man. The lot fell upon the sailor;
  • but he was the strongest of us and would not abide by it, and attacked
  • Helmar with his hands. They grappled together and almost stood up.
  • I crawled along the boat to them, intending to help Helmar by grasping
  • the sailor's leg; but the sailor stumbled with the swaying of the boat,
  • and the two fell upon the gunwale and rolled overboard together.
  • They sank like stones. I remember laughing at that, and wondering
  • why I laughed. The laugh caught me suddenly like a thing
  • from without.
  • I lay across one of the thwarts for I know not how long,
  • thinking that if I had the strength I would drink sea-water
  • and madden myself to die quickly. And even as I lay there I saw,
  • with no more interest than if it had been a picture, a sail come
  • up towards me over the sky-line. My mind must have been wandering,
  • and yet I remember all that happened, quite distinctly.
  • I remember how my head swayed with the seas, and the horizon
  • with the sail above it danced up and down; but I also remember
  • as distinctly that I had a persuasion that I was dead, and that I
  • thought what a jest it was that they should come too late by such
  • a little to catch me in my body.
  • For an endless period, as it seemed to me, I lay with my head
  • on the thwart watching the schooner (she was a little ship,
  • schooner-rigged fore and aft) come up out of the sea.
  • She kept tacking to and fro in a widening compass, for she was
  • sailing dead into the wind. It never entered my head to attempt
  • to attract attention, and I do not remember anything distinctly after
  • the sight of her side until I found myself in a little cabin aft.
  • There's a dim half-memory of being lifted up to the gangway, and of
  • a big round countenance covered with freckles and surrounded with red
  • hair staring at me over the bulwarks. I also had a disconnected
  • impression of a dark face, with extraordinary eyes, close to mine;
  • but that I thought was a nightmare, until I met it again.
  • I fancy I recollect some stuff being poured in between my teeth;
  • and that is all.
  • II. THE MAN WHO WAS GOING NOWHERE.
  • THE cabin in which I found myself was small and rather untidy.
  • A youngish man with flaxen hair, a bristly straw-coloured moustache,
  • and a dropping nether lip, was sitting and holding my wrist.
  • For a minute we stared at each other without speaking.
  • He had watery grey eyes, oddly void of expression.
  • Then just overhead came a sound like an iron bedstead being
  • knocked about, and the low angry growling of some large animal.
  • At the same time the man spoke. He repeated his question,--"How do you
  • feel now?"
  • I think I said I felt all right. I could not recollect how I
  • had got there. He must have seen the question in my face,
  • for my voice was inaccessible to me.
  • "You were picked up in a boat, starving. The name on the boat
  • was the 'Lady Vain,' and there were spots of blood on the gunwale."
  • At the same time my eye caught my hand, so thin that it looked
  • like a dirty skin-purse full of loose bones, and all the business
  • of the boat came back to me.
  • "Have some of this," said he, and gave me a dose of some
  • scarlet stuff, iced.
  • It tasted like blood, and made me feel stronger.
  • "You were in luck," said he, "to get picked up by a ship with a
  • medical man aboard." He spoke with a slobbering articulation,
  • with the ghost of a lisp.
  • "What ship is this?" I said slowly, hoarse from my long silence.
  • "It's a little trader from Arica and Callao. I never asked
  • where she came from in the beginning,--out of the land
  • of born fools, I guess. I'm a passenger myself, from Arica.
  • The silly ass who owns her,--he's captain too, named Davies,--he's
  • lost his certificate, or something. You know the kind of man,--calls
  • the thing the 'Ipecacuanha,' of all silly, infernal names;
  • though when there's much of a sea without any wind, she certainly
  • acts according."
  • (Then the noise overhead began again, a snarling growl
  • and the voice of a human being together. Then another voice,
  • telling some "Heaven-forsaken idiot" to desist.)
  • "You were nearly dead," said my interlocutor. "It was a very
  • near thing, indeed. But I've put some stuff into you now.
  • Notice your arm's sore? Injections. You've been insensible for nearly
  • thirty hours."
  • I thought slowly. (I was distracted now by the yelping of a number
  • of dogs.) "Am I eligible for solid food?" I asked.
  • "Thanks to me," he said. "Even now the mutton is boiling."
  • "Yes," I said with assurance; "I could eat some mutton."
  • "But," said he with a momentary hesitation, "you know I'm dying to hear
  • of how you came to be alone in that boat. Damn that howling!"
  • I thought I detected a certain suspicion in his eyes.
  • He suddenly left the cabin, and I heard him in violent controversy
  • with some one, who seemed to me to talk gibberish in response to him.
  • The matter sounded as though it ended in blows, but in that I thought
  • my ears were mistaken. Then he shouted at the dogs, and returned to
  • the cabin.
  • "Well?" said he in the doorway. "You were just beginning to tell me."
  • I told him my name, Edward Prendick, and how I had taken to Natural
  • History as a relief from the dulness of my comfortable independence.
  • He seemed interested in this. "I've done some science myself. I did
  • my Biology at University College,--getting out the ovary of the earthworm
  • and the radula of the snail, and all that. Lord! It's ten years ago.
  • But go on! go on! tell me about the boat."
  • He was evidently satisfied with the frankness of my story,
  • which I told in concise sentences enough, for I felt horribly weak;
  • and when it was finished he reverted at once to the topic
  • of Natural History and his own biological studies. He began to
  • question me closely about Tottenham Court Road and Gower Street.
  • "Is Caplatzi still flourishing? What a shop that was!"
  • He had evidently been a very ordinary medical student, and drifted
  • incontinently to the topic of the music halls. He told me
  • some anecdotes.
  • "Left it all," he said, "ten years ago. How jolly it all used to be!
  • But I made a young ass of myself,--played myself out before I was
  • twenty-one. I daresay it's all different now. But I must look up
  • that ass of a cook, and see what he's done to your mutton."
  • The growling overhead was renewed, so suddenly and with so much savage
  • anger that it startled me. "What's that?" I called after him,
  • but the door had closed. He came back again with the boiled mutton,
  • and I was so excited by the appetising smell of it that I forgot
  • the noise of the beast that had troubled me.
  • After a day of alternate sleep and feeding I was so far recovered
  • as to be able to get from my bunk to the scuttle, and see the green
  • seas trying to keep pace with us. I judged the schooner was running
  • before the wind. Montgomery--that was the name of the flaxen-haired
  • man--came in again as I stood there, and I asked him for some clothes.
  • He lent me some duck things of his own, for those I had worn in the boat
  • had been thrown overboard. They were rather loose for me, for he was
  • large and long in his limbs. He told me casually that the captain
  • was three-parts drunk in his own cabin. As I assumed the clothes,
  • I began asking him some questions about the destination of the ship.
  • He said the ship was bound to Hawaii, but that it had to land
  • him first.
  • "Where?" said I.
  • "It's an island, where I live. So far as I know, it hasn't got
  • a name."
  • He stared at me with his nether lip dropping, and looked so wilfully
  • stupid of a sudden that it came into my head that he desired
  • to avoid my questions. I had the discretion to ask no more.
  • III. THE STRANGE FACE.
  • WE left the cabin and found a man at the companion obstructing
  • our way. He was standing on the ladder with his back to us,
  • peering over the combing of the hatchway. He was, I could see,
  • a misshapen man, short, broad, and clumsy, with a crooked back,
  • a hairy neck, and a head sunk between his shoulders. He was dressed
  • in dark-blue serge, and had peculiarly thick, coarse, black hair.
  • I heard the unseen dogs growl furiously, and forthwith he ducked
  • back,--coming into contact with the hand I put out to fend him off
  • from myself. He turned with animal swiftness.
  • In some indefinable way the black face thus flashed upon me
  • shocked me profoundly. It was a singularly deformed one.
  • The facial part projected, forming something dimly suggestive
  • of a muzzle, and the huge half-open mouth showed as big white teeth
  • as I had ever seen in a human mouth. His eyes were blood-shot
  • at the edges, with scarcely a rim of white round the hazel pupils.
  • There was a curious glow of excitement in his face.
  • "Confound you!" said Montgomery. "Why the devil don't you get
  • out of the way?"
  • The black-faced man started aside without a word.
  • I went on up the companion, staring at him instinctively
  • as I did so. Montgomery stayed at the foot for a moment.
  • "You have no business here, you know," he said in a deliberate tone.
  • "Your place is forward."
  • The black-faced man cowered. "They--won't have me forward."
  • He spoke slowly, with a queer, hoarse quality in his voice.
  • "Won't have you forward!" said Montgomery, in a menacing voice.
  • "But I tell you to go!" He was on the brink of saying something further,
  • then looked up at me suddenly and followed me up the ladder.
  • I had paused half way through the hatchway, looking back, still astonished
  • beyond measure at the grotesque ugliness of this black-faced creature.
  • I had never beheld such a repulsive and extraordinary face before,
  • and yet--if the contradiction is credible--I experienced at
  • the same time an odd feeling that in some way I _had_ already
  • encountered exactly the features and gestures that now amazed me.
  • Afterwards it occurred to me that probably I had seen him as I
  • was lifted aboard; and yet that scarcely satisfied my suspicion
  • of a previous acquaintance. Yet how one could have set eyes on
  • so singular a face and yet have forgotten the precise occasion,
  • passed my imagination.
  • Montgomery's movement to follow me released my attention, and I
  • turned and looked about me at the flush deck of the little schooner.
  • I was already half prepared by the sounds I had heard for what I saw.
  • Certainly I never beheld a deck so dirty. It was littered with
  • scraps of carrot, shreds of green stuff, and indescribable filth.
  • Fastened by chains to the mainmast were a number of grisly staghounds,
  • who now began leaping and barking at me, and by the mizzen a huge puma was
  • cramped in a little iron cage far too small even to give it turning room.
  • Farther under the starboard bulwark were some big hutches containing
  • a number of rabbits, and a solitary llama was squeezed in a mere
  • box of a cage forward. The dogs were muzzled by leather straps.
  • The only human being on deck was a gaunt and silent sailor at
  • the wheel.
  • The patched and dirty spankers were tense before the wind,
  • and up aloft the little ship seemed carrying every sail she had.
  • The sky was clear, the sun midway down the western sky;
  • long waves, capped by the breeze with froth, were running with us.
  • We went past the steersman to the taffrail, and saw the water come
  • foaming under the stern and the bubbles go dancing and vanishing
  • in her wake. I turned and surveyed the unsavoury length of
  • the ship.
  • "Is this an ocean menagerie?" said I.
  • "Looks like it," said Montgomery.
  • "What are these beasts for? Merchandise, curios? Does the captain
  • think he is going to sell them somewhere in the South Seas?"
  • "It looks like it, doesn't it?" said Montgomery, and turned towards
  • the wake again.
  • Suddenly we heard a yelp and a volley of furious blasphemy
  • from the companion hatchway, and the deformed man with the black
  • face came up hurriedly. He was immediately followed by a heavy
  • red-haired man in a white cap. At the sight of the former
  • the staghounds, who had all tired of barking at me by this time,
  • became furiously excited, howling and leaping against their chains.
  • The black hesitated before them, and this gave the red-haired man
  • time to come up with him and deliver a tremendous blow between
  • the shoulder-blades. The poor devil went down like a felled ox,
  • and rolled in the dirt among the furiously excited dogs.
  • It was lucky for him that they were muzzled. The red-haired man gave
  • a yawp of exultation and stood staggering, and as it seemed to me
  • in serious danger of either going backwards down the companion hatchway
  • or forwards upon his victim.
  • So soon as the second man had appeared, Montgomery had started forward.
  • "Steady on there!" he cried, in a tone of remonstrance.
  • A couple of sailors appeared on the forecastle. The black-faced man,
  • howling in a singular voice rolled about under the feet of the dogs.
  • No one attempted to help him. The brutes did their best to worry him,
  • butting their muzzles at him. There was a quick dance of their
  • lithe grey-figured bodies over the clumsy, prostrate figure.
  • The sailors forward shouted, as though it was admirable sport.
  • Montgomery gave an angry exclamation, and went striding down
  • the deck, and I followed him. The black-faced man scrambled
  • up and staggered forward, going and leaning over the bulwark
  • by the main shrouds, where he remained, panting and glaring
  • over his shoulder at the dogs. The red-haired man laughed a
  • satisfied laugh.
  • "Look here, Captain," said Montgomery, with his lisp a little accentuated,
  • gripping the elbows of the red-haired man, "this won't do!"
  • I stood behind Montgomery. The captain came half round,
  • and regarded him with the dull and solemn eyes of a drunken man.
  • "Wha' won't do?" he said, and added, after looking sleepily into
  • Montgomery's face for a minute, "Blasted Sawbones!"
  • With a sudden movement he shook his arms free, and after two
  • ineffectual attempts stuck his freckled fists into his side pockets.
  • "That man's a passenger," said Montgomery. "I'd advise you to keep
  • your hands off him."
  • "Go to hell!" said the captain, loudly. He suddenly turned
  • and staggered towards the side. "Do what I like on my own ship,"
  • he said.
  • I think Montgomery might have left him then, seeing the brute was drunk;
  • but he only turned a shade paler, and followed the captain
  • to the bulwarks.
  • "Look you here, Captain," he said; "that man of mine is not to be
  • ill-treated. He has been hazed ever since he came aboard."
  • For a minute, alcoholic fumes kept the captain speechless.
  • "Blasted Sawbones!" was all he considered necessary.
  • I could see that Montgomery had one of those slow, pertinacious tempers
  • that will warm day after day to a white heat, and never again
  • cool to forgiveness; and I saw too that this quarrel had been
  • some time growing. "The man's drunk," said I, perhaps officiously;
  • "you'll do no good."
  • Montgomery gave an ugly twist to his dropping lip. "He's always drunk.
  • Do you think that excuses his assaulting his passengers?"
  • "My ship," began the captain, waving his hand unsteadily
  • towards the cages, "was a clean ship. Look at it now!"
  • It was certainly anything but clean. "Crew," continued the captain,
  • "clean, respectable crew."
  • "You agreed to take the beasts."
  • "I wish I'd never set eyes on your infernal island. What the
  • devil--want beasts for on an island like that? Then, that man of
  • yours--understood he was a man. He's a lunatic; and he hadn't no
  • business aft. Do you think the whole damned ship belongs to you?"
  • "Your sailors began to haze the poor devil as soon as he came aboard."
  • "That's just what he is--he's a devil! an ugly devil! My men
  • can't stand him. _I_ can't stand him. None of us can't stand him.
  • Nor _you_ either!"
  • Montgomery turned away. "_You_ leave that man alone, anyhow," he said,
  • nodding his head as he spoke.
  • But the captain meant to quarrel now. He raised his voice. "If he comes
  • this end of the ship again I'll cut his insides out, I tell you.
  • Cut out his blasted insides! Who are you, to tell me what I'm to do?
  • I tell you I'm captain of this ship,--captain and owner.
  • I'm the law here, I tell you,--the law and the prophets.
  • I bargained to take a man and his attendant to and from Arica,
  • and bring back some animals. I never bargained to carry a mad devil
  • and a silly Sawbones, a--"
  • Well, never mind what he called Montgomery. I saw the latter take
  • a step forward, and interposed. "He's drunk," said I. The captain
  • began some abuse even fouler than the last. "Shut up!" I said,
  • turning on him sharply, for I had seen danger in Montgomery's white face.
  • With that I brought the downpour on myself.
  • However, I was glad to avert what was uncommonly near a scuffle,
  • even at the price of the captain's drunken ill-will. I do not think
  • I have ever heard quite so much vile language come in a continuous
  • stream from any man's lips before, though I have frequented eccentric
  • company enough. I found some of it hard to endure, though I am
  • a mild-tempered man; but, certainly, when I told the captain to
  • "shut up" I had forgotten that I was merely a bit of human flotsam,
  • cut off from my resources and with my fare unpaid; a mere casual
  • dependant on the bounty, or speculative enterprise, of the ship.
  • He reminded me of it with considerable vigour; but at any rate I prevented
  • a fight.
  • IV. AT THE SCHOONER'S RAIL.
  • THAT night land was sighted after sundown, and the schooner
  • hove to. Montgomery intimated that was his destination.
  • It was too far to see any details; it seemed to me then simply
  • a low-lying patch of dim blue in the uncertain blue-grey sea.
  • An almost vertical streak of smoke went up from it into the sky.
  • The captain was not on deck when it was sighted. After he had vented
  • his wrath on me he had staggered below, and I understand he went to sleep
  • on the floor of his own cabin. The mate practically assumed the command.
  • He was the gaunt, taciturn individual we had seen at the wheel.
  • Apparently he was in an evil temper with Montgomery. He took
  • not the slightest notice of either of us. We dined with him in a
  • sulky silence, after a few ineffectual efforts on my part to talk.
  • It struck me too that the men regarded my companion and his animals
  • in a singularly unfriendly manner. I found Montgomery very reticent
  • about his purpose with these creatures, and about his destination;
  • and though I was sensible of a growing curiosity as to both, I did not
  • press him.
  • We remained talking on the quarter deck until the sky was thick
  • with stars. Except for an occasional sound in the yellow-lit forecastle
  • and a movement of the animals now and then, the night was very still.
  • The puma lay crouched together, watching us with shining eyes, a black
  • heap in the corner of its cage. Montgomery produced some cigars.
  • He talked to me of London in a tone of half-painful reminiscence,
  • asking all kinds of questions about changes that had taken place.
  • He spoke like a man who had loved his life there, and had been
  • suddenly and irrevocably cut off from it. I gossiped as well as I
  • could of this and that. All the time the strangeness of him was
  • shaping itself in my mind; and as I talked I peered at his odd,
  • pallid face in the dim light of the binnacle lantern behind me. Then I
  • looked out at the darkling sea, where in the dimness his little island
  • was hidden.
  • This man, it seemed to me, had come out of Immensity merely to save
  • my life. To-morrow he would drop over the side, and vanish again out
  • of my existence. Even had it been under commonplace circumstances,
  • it would have made me a trifle thoughtful; but in the first place was
  • the singularity of an educated man living on this unknown little island,
  • and coupled with that the extraordinary nature of his luggage.
  • I found myself repeating the captain's question. What did he want
  • with the beasts? Why, too, had he pretended they were not his when I
  • had remarked about them at first? Then, again, in his personal attendant
  • there was a bizarre quality which had impressed me profoundly.
  • These circumstances threw a haze of mystery round the man. They laid
  • hold of my imagination, and hampered my tongue.
  • Towards midnight our talk of London died away, and we stood
  • side by side leaning over the bulwarks and staring dreamily
  • over the silent, starlit sea, each pursuing his own thoughts.
  • It was the atmosphere for sentiment, and I began upon my gratitude.
  • "If I may say it," said I, after a time, "you have saved my life."
  • "Chance," he answered. "Just chance."
  • "I prefer to make my thanks to the accessible agent."
  • "Thank no one. You had the need, and I had the knowledge;
  • and I injected and fed you much as I might have collected a specimen.
  • I was bored and wanted something to do. If I'd been jaded that day,
  • or hadn't liked your face, well--it's a curious question where you would
  • have been now!"
  • This damped my mood a little. "At any rate," I began.
  • "It's a chance, I tell you," he interrupted, "as everything is in
  • a man's life. Only the asses won't see it! Why am I here now,
  • an outcast from civilisation, instead of being a happy man enjoying
  • all the pleasures of London? Simply because eleven years ago--I
  • lost my head for ten minutes on a foggy night."
  • He stopped. "Yes?" said I.
  • "That's all."
  • We relapsed into silence. Presently he laughed.
  • "There's something in this starlight that loosens one's tongue.
  • I'm an ass, and yet somehow I would like to tell you."
  • "Whatever you tell me, you may rely upon my keeping to myself--if
  • that's it."
  • He was on the point of beginning, and then shook his head, doubtfully.
  • "Don't," said I. "It is all the same to me. After all, it is better
  • to keep your secret. There's nothing gained but a little relief
  • if I respect your confidence. If I don't--well?"
  • He grunted undecidedly. I felt I had him at a disadvantage, had caught
  • him in the mood of indiscretion; and to tell the truth I was not curious
  • to learn what might have driven a young medical student out of London.
  • I have an imagination. I shrugged my shoulders and turned away.
  • Over the taffrail leant a silent black figure, watching the stars.
  • It was Montgomery's strange attendant. It looked over its shoulder
  • quickly with my movement, then looked away again.
  • It may seem a little thing to you, perhaps, but it came like a sudden
  • blow to me. The only light near us was a lantern at the wheel.
  • The creature's face was turned for one brief instant out of the dimness
  • of the stern towards this illumination, and I saw that the eyes
  • that glanced at me shone with a pale-green light. I did not know then
  • that a reddish luminosity, at least, is not uncommon in human eyes.
  • The thing came to me as stark inhumanity. That black figure with its
  • eyes of fire struck down through all my adult thoughts and feelings,
  • and for a moment the forgotten horrors of childhood came back to my mind.
  • Then the effect passed as it had come. An uncouth black figure
  • of a man, a figure of no particular import, hung over the taffrail
  • against the starlight, and I found Montgomery was speaking
  • to me.
  • "I'm thinking of turning in, then," said he, "if you've had enough
  • of this."
  • I answered him incongruously. We went below, and he wished me
  • good-night at the door of my cabin.
  • That night I had some very unpleasant dreams. The waning
  • moon rose late. Its light struck a ghostly white beam across
  • my cabin, and made an ominous shape on the planking by my bunk.
  • Then the staghounds woke, and began howling and baying;
  • so that I dreamt fitfully, and scarcely slept until the approach
  • of dawn.
  • V. THE MAN WHO HAD NOWHERE TO GO.
  • IN the early morning (it was the second morning after my recovery,
  • and I believe the fourth after I was picked up), I awoke through an avenue
  • of tumultuous dreams,--dreams of guns and howling mobs,--and became
  • sensible of a hoarse shouting above me. I rubbed my eyes and lay
  • listening to the noise, doubtful for a little while of my whereabouts.
  • Then came a sudden pattering of bare feet, the sound of heavy objects
  • being thrown about, a violent creaking and the rattling of chains.
  • I heard the swish of the water as the ship was suddenly brought round,
  • and a foamy yellow-green wave flew across the little round
  • window and left it streaming. I jumped into my clothes and went
  • on deck.
  • As I came up the ladder I saw against the flushed sky--for the sun
  • was just rising--the broad back and red hair of the captain,
  • and over his shoulder the puma spinning from a tackle rigged on
  • to the mizzen spanker-boom.
  • The poor brute seemed horribly scared, and crouched in the bottom
  • of its little cage.
  • "Overboard with 'em!" bawled the captain. "Overboard with 'em!
  • We'll have a clean ship soon of the whole bilin' of 'em."
  • He stood in my way, so that I had perforce to tap his shoulder
  • to come on deck. He came round with a start, and staggered back
  • a few paces to stare at me. It needed no expert eye to tell
  • that the man was still drunk.
  • "Hullo!" said he, stupidly; and then with a light coming into his eyes,
  • "Why, it's Mister--Mister?"
  • "Prendick," said I.
  • "Prendick be damned!" said he. "Shut-up,--that's your name.
  • Mister Shut-up."
  • It was no good answering the brute; but I certainly did not expect
  • his next move. He held out his hand to the gangway by which Montgomery
  • stood talking to a massive grey-haired man in dirty-blue flannels,
  • who had apparently just come aboard.
  • "That way, Mister Blasted Shut-up! that way!" roared the captain.
  • Montgomery and his companion turned as he spoke.
  • "What do you mean?" I said.
  • "That way, Mister Blasted Shut-up,--that's what I mean!
  • Overboard, Mister Shut-up,--and sharp! We're cleaning the ship
  • out,--cleaning the whole blessed ship out; and overboard you go!"
  • I stared at him dumfounded. Then it occurred to me that it was
  • exactly the thing I wanted. The lost prospect of a journey as sole
  • passenger with this quarrelsome sot was not one to mourn over.
  • I turned towards Montgomery.
  • "Can't have you," said Montgomery's companion, concisely.
  • "You can't have me!" said I, aghast. He had the squarest and most
  • resolute face I ever set eyes upon.
  • "Look here," I began, turning to the captain.
  • "Overboard!" said the captain. "This ship aint for beasts
  • and cannibals and worse than beasts, any more. Overboard you go,
  • Mister Shut-up. If they can't have you, you goes overboard.
  • But, anyhow, you go--with your friends. I've done with this blessed
  • island for evermore, amen! I've had enough of it."
  • "But, Montgomery," I appealed.
  • He distorted his lower lip, and nodded his head hopelessly at
  • the grey-haired man beside him, to indicate his powerlessness to help me.
  • "I'll see to _you_, presently," said the captain.
  • Then began a curious three-cornered altercation.
  • Alternately I appealed to one and another of the three men,--first
  • to the grey-haired man to let me land, and then to the drunken
  • captain to keep me aboard. I even bawled entreaties to the sailors.
  • Montgomery said never a word, only shook his head.
  • "You're going overboard, I tell you," was the captain's refrain.
  • "Law be damned! I'm king here." At last I must confess
  • my voice suddenly broke in the middle of a vigorous threat.
  • I felt a gust of hysterical petulance, and went aft and stared dismally
  • at nothing.
  • Meanwhile the sailors progressed rapidly with the task of
  • unshipping the packages and caged animals. A large launch,
  • with two standing lugs, lay under the lee of the schooner;
  • and into this the strange assortment of goods were swung.
  • I did not then see the hands from the island that were receiving
  • the packages, for the hull of the launch was hidden from me
  • by the side of the schooner. Neither Montgomery nor his companion
  • took the slightest notice of me, but busied themselves in assisting
  • and directing the four or five sailors who were unloading the goods.
  • The captain went forward interfering rather than assisting.
  • I was alternately despairful and desperate. Once or twice
  • as I stood waiting there for things to accomplish themselves,
  • I could not resist an impulse to laugh at my miserable quandary.
  • I felt all the wretcheder for the lack of a breakfast.
  • Hunger and a lack of blood-corpuscles take all the manhood from a man.
  • I perceived pretty clearly that I had not the stamina
  • either to resist what the captain chose to do to expel me,
  • or to force myself upon Montgomery and his companion.
  • So I waited passively upon fate; and the work of transferring
  • Montgomery's possessions to the launch went on as if I did
  • not exist.
  • Presently that work was finished, and then came a struggle.
  • I was hauled, resisting weakly enough, to the gangway.
  • Even then I noticed the oddness of the brown faces of the men who were
  • with Montgomery in the launch; but the launch was now fully laden,
  • and was shoved off hastily. A broadening gap of green water
  • appeared under me, and I pushed back with all my strength to avoid
  • falling headlong. The hands in the launch shouted derisively,
  • and I heard Montgomery curse at them; and then the captain,
  • the mate, and one of the seamen helping him, ran me aft towards
  • the stern.
  • The dingey of the "Lady Vain" had been towing behind; it was
  • half full of water, had no oars, and was quite unvictualled.
  • I refused to go aboard her, and flung myself full length on the deck.
  • In the end, they swung me into her by a rope (for they had no
  • stern ladder), and then they cut me adrift. I drifted slowly
  • from the schooner. In a kind of stupor I watched all hands take
  • to the rigging, and slowly but surely she came round to the wind;
  • the sails fluttered, and then bellied out as the wind came into them.
  • I stared at her weather-beaten side heeling steeply towards me;
  • and then she passed out of my range of view.
  • I did not turn my head to follow her. At first I could scarcely
  • believe what had happened. I crouched in the bottom of the dingey,
  • stunned, and staring blankly at the vacant, oily sea. Then I realised
  • that I was in that little hell of mine again, now half swamped;
  • and looking back over the gunwale, I saw the schooner standing away
  • from me, with the red-haired captain mocking at me over the taffrail,
  • and turning towards the island saw the launch growing smaller as she
  • approached the beach.
  • Abruptly the cruelty of this desertion became clear to me.
  • I had no means of reaching the land unless I should chance to drift there.
  • I was still weak, you must remember, from my exposure in the boat;
  • I was empty and very faint, or I should have had more heart.
  • But as it was I suddenly began to sob and weep, as I had never done
  • since I was a little child. The tears ran down my face. In a passion
  • of despair I struck with my fists at the water in the bottom of the boat,
  • and kicked savagely at the gunwale. I prayed aloud for God to let
  • me die.
  • VI. THE EVIL-LOOKING BOATMEN.
  • BUT the islanders, seeing that I was really adrift, took pity on me.
  • I drifted very slowly to the eastward, approaching the island slantingly;
  • and presently I saw, with hysterical relief, the launch come round and
  • return towards me. She was heavily laden, and I could make out as she
  • drew nearer Montgomery's white-haired, broad-shouldered companion sitting
  • cramped up with the dogs and several packing-cases in the stern sheets.
  • This individual stared fixedly at me without moving or speaking.
  • The black-faced cripple was glaring at me as fixedly in the bows
  • near the puma. There were three other men besides,--three strange
  • brutish-looking fellows, at whom the staghounds were snarling savagely.
  • Montgomery, who was steering, brought the boat by me, and rising,
  • caught and fastened my painter to the tiller to tow me, for there was no
  • room aboard.
  • I had recovered from my hysterical phase by this time
  • and answered his hail, as he approached, bravely enough.
  • I told him the dingey was nearly swamped, and he reached me a piggin.
  • I was jerked back as the rope tightened between the boats.
  • For some time I was busy baling.
  • It was not until I had got the water under (for the water
  • in the dingey had been shipped; the boat was perfectly sound)
  • that I had leisure to look at the people in the launch again.
  • The white-haired man I found was still regarding me steadfastly,
  • but with an expression, as I now fancied, of some perplexity.
  • When my eyes met his, he looked down at the staghound that sat
  • between his knees. He was a powerfully-built man, as I have said,
  • with a fine forehead and rather heavy features; but his eyes
  • had that odd drooping of the skin above the lids which often
  • comes with advancing years, and the fall of his heavy mouth
  • at the corners gave him an expression of pugnacious resolution.
  • He talked to Montgomery in a tone too low for me to hear.
  • From him my eyes travelled to his three men; and a strange crew they were.
  • I saw only their faces, yet there was something in their
  • faces--I knew not what--that gave me a queer spasm of disgust.
  • I looked steadily at them, and the impression did not pass,
  • though I failed to see what had occasioned it. They seemed
  • to me then to be brown men; but their limbs were oddly swathed
  • in some thin, dirty, white stuff down even to the fingers and feet:
  • I have never seen men so wrapped up before, and women so only in the East.
  • They wore turbans too, and thereunder peered out their elfin
  • faces at me,--faces with protruding lower-jaws and bright eyes.
  • They had lank black hair, almost like horsehair, and seemed
  • as they sat to exceed in stature any race of men I have seen.
  • The white-haired man, who I knew was a good six feet in height,
  • sat a head below any one of the three. I found afterwards that really
  • none were taller than myself; but their bodies were abnormally long,
  • and the thigh-part of the leg short and curiously twisted.
  • At any rate, they were an amazingly ugly gang, and over the heads
  • of them under the forward lug peered the black face of the man whose
  • eyes were luminous in the dark. As I stared at them, they met my gaze;
  • and then first one and then another turned away from my direct stare,
  • and looked at me in an odd, furtive manner. It occurred to me that I
  • was perhaps annoying them, and I turned my attention to the island
  • we were approaching.
  • It was low, and covered with thick vegetation,--chiefly a kind of palm,
  • that was new to me. From one point a thin white thread of vapour rose
  • slantingly to an immense height, and then frayed out like a down feather.
  • We were now within the embrace of a broad bay flanked on either
  • hand by a low promontory. The beach was of dull-grey sand,
  • and sloped steeply up to a ridge, perhaps sixty or seventy feet above
  • the sea-level, and irregularly set with trees and undergrowth.
  • Half way up was a square enclosure of some greyish stone, which I found
  • subsequently was built partly of coral and partly of pumiceous lava.
  • Two thatched roofs peeped from within this enclosure.
  • A man stood awaiting us at the water's edge. I fancied while we
  • were still far off that I saw some other and very grotesque-looking
  • creatures scuttle into the bushes upon the slope; but I saw nothing
  • of these as we drew nearer. This man was of a moderate size,
  • and with a black negroid face. He had a large, almost lipless,
  • mouth, extraordinary lank arms, long thin feet, and bow-legs,
  • and stood with his heavy face thrust forward staring at us.
  • He was dressed like Montgomery and his white-haired companion,
  • in jacket and trousers of blue serge. As we came still nearer,
  • this individual began to run to and fro on the beach, making the most
  • grotesque movements.
  • At a word of command from Montgomery, the four men in the launch
  • sprang up, and with singularly awkward gestures struck the lugs.
  • Montgomery steered us round and into a narrow little dock excavated
  • in the beach. Then the man on the beach hastened towards us.
  • This dock, as I call it, was really a mere ditch just long
  • enough at this phase of the tide to take the longboat.
  • I heard the bows ground in the sand, staved the dingey off the rudder
  • of the big boat with my piggin, and freeing the painter, landed.
  • The three muffled men, with the clumsiest movements, scrambled out
  • upon the sand, and forthwith set to landing the cargo, assisted by
  • the man on the beach. I was struck especially by the curious
  • movements of the legs of the three swathed and bandaged boatmen,--not
  • stiff they were, but distorted in some odd way, almost as if they
  • were jointed in the wrong place. The dogs were still snarling,
  • and strained at their chains after these men, as the white-haired
  • man landed with them. The three big fellows spoke to one another
  • in odd guttural tones, and the man who had waited for us on
  • the beach began chattering to them excitedly--a foreign language,
  • as I fancied--as they laid hands on some bales piled near the stern.
  • Somewhere I had heard such a voice before, and I could not think where.
  • The white-haired man stood, holding in a tumult of six dogs, and bawling
  • orders over their din. Montgomery, having unshipped the rudder,
  • landed likewise, and all set to work at unloading. I was too faint,
  • what with my long fast and the sun beating down on my bare head, to offer
  • any assistance.
  • Presently the white-haired man seemed to recollect my presence,
  • and came up to me.
  • "You look," said he, "as though you had scarcely breakfasted."
  • His little eyes were a brilliant black under his heavy brows.
  • "I must apologise for that. Now you are our guest, we must
  • make you comfortable,--though you are uninvited, you know."
  • He looked keenly into my face. "Montgomery says you are an educated man,
  • Mr. Prendick; says you know something of science. May I ask what
  • that signifies?"
  • I told him I had spent some years at the Royal College of Science,
  • and had done some researches in biology under Huxley. He raised
  • his eyebrows slightly at that.
  • "That alters the case a little, Mr. Prendick," he said,
  • with a trifle more respect in his manner. "As it happens,
  • we are biologists here. This is a biological station--of a sort."
  • His eye rested on the men in white who were busily hauling the puma,
  • on rollers, towards the walled yard. "I and Montgomery, at least,"
  • he added. Then, "When you will be able to get away, I can't say.
  • We're off the track to anywhere. We see a ship once in a twelve-month
  • or so."
  • He left me abruptly, and went up the beach past this group, and I
  • think entered the enclosure. The other two men were with Montgomery,
  • erecting a pile of smaller packages on a low-wheeled truck.
  • The llama was still on the launch with the rabbit hutches;
  • the staghounds were still lashed to the thwarts.
  • The pile of things completed, all three men laid hold of the truck
  • and began shoving the ton-weight or so upon it after the puma.
  • Presently Montgomery left them, and coming back to me held out
  • his hand.
  • "I'm glad," said he, "for my own part. That captain was a silly ass.
  • He'd have made things lively for you."
  • "It was you," said I, "that saved me again."
  • "That depends. You'll find this island an infernally rum place,
  • I promise you. I'd watch my goings carefully, if I were you.
  • _He_--" He hesitated, and seemed to alter his mind about what
  • was on his lips. "I wish you'd help me with these rabbits,"
  • he said.
  • His procedure with the rabbits was singular. I waded
  • in with him, and helped him lug one of the hutches ashore.
  • No sooner was that done than he opened the door of it, and tilting
  • the thing on one end turned its living contents out on the ground.
  • They fell in a struggling heap one on the top of the other.
  • He clapped his hands, and forthwith they went off with that hopping
  • run of theirs, fifteen or twenty of them I should think, up
  • the beach.
  • "Increase and multiply, my friends," said Montgomery.
  • "Replenish the island. Hitherto we've had a certain lack of meat here."
  • As I watched them disappearing, the white-haired man returned with a
  • brandy-flask and some biscuits. "Something to go on with, Prendick,"
  • said he, in a far more familiar tone than before. I made no ado,
  • but set to work on the biscuits at once, while the white-haired man
  • helped Montgomery to release about a score more of the rabbits.
  • Three big hutches, however, went up to the house with the puma.
  • The brandy I did not touch, for I have been an abstainer from
  • my birth.
  • VII. THE LOCKED DOOR.
  • THE reader will perhaps understand that at first everything was so strange
  • about me, and my position was the outcome of such unexpected adventures,
  • that I had no discernment of the relative strangeness of this
  • or that thing. I followed the llama up the beach, and was overtaken
  • by Montgomery, who asked me not to enter the stone enclosure.
  • I noticed then that the puma in its cage and the pile of packages
  • had been placed outside the entrance to this quadrangle.
  • I turned and saw that the launch had now been unloaded, run out again,
  • and was being beached, and the white-haired man was walking towards us.
  • He addressed Montgomery.
  • "And now comes the problem of this uninvited guest. What are we
  • to do with him?"
  • "He knows something of science," said Montgomery.
  • "I'm itching to get to work again--with this new stuff,"
  • said the white-haired man, nodding towards the enclosure.
  • His eyes grew brighter.
  • "I daresay you are," said Montgomery, in anything but a cordial tone.
  • "We can't send him over there, and we can't spare the time to build
  • him a new shanty; and we certainly can't take him into our confidence
  • just yet."
  • "I'm in your hands," said I. I had no idea of what he meant
  • by "over there."
  • "I've been thinking of the same things," Montgomery answered.
  • "There's my room with the outer door--"
  • "That's it," said the elder man, promptly, looking at Montgomery;
  • and all three of us went towards the enclosure. "I'm sorry to make
  • a mystery, Mr. Prendick; but you'll remember you're uninvited.
  • Our little establishment here contains a secret or so, is a kind
  • of Blue-Beard's chamber, in fact. Nothing very dreadful, really, to a
  • sane man; but just now, as we don't know you--"
  • "Decidedly," said I, "I should be a fool to take offence at any want
  • of confidence."
  • He twisted his heavy mouth into a faint smile--he was one of those
  • saturnine people who smile with the corners of the mouth down,--and
  • bowed his acknowledgment of my complaisance. The main entrance
  • to the enclosure was passed; it was a heavy wooden gate, framed in iron
  • and locked, with the cargo of the launch piled outside it, and at
  • the corner we came to a small doorway I had not previously observed.
  • The white-haired man produced a bundle of keys from the pocket
  • of his greasy blue jacket, opened this door, and entered.
  • His keys, and the elaborate locking-up of the place even while it
  • was still under his eye, struck me as peculiar. I followed him,
  • and found myself in a small apartment, plainly but not uncomfortably
  • furnished and with its inner door, which was slightly ajar, opening into
  • a paved courtyard. This inner door Montgomery at once closed.
  • A hammock was slung across the darker corner of the room, and a
  • small unglazed window defended by an iron bar looked out towards
  • the sea.
  • This the white-haired man told me was to be my apartment;
  • and the inner door, which "for fear of accidents," he said,
  • he would lock on the other side, was my limit inward.
  • He called my attention to a convenient deck-chair before the window,
  • and to an array of old books, chiefly, I found, surgical works
  • and editions of the Latin and Greek classics (languages I
  • cannot read with any comfort), on a shelf near the hammock.
  • He left the room by the outer door, as if to avoid opening the inner
  • one again.
  • "We usually have our meals in here," said Montgomery, and then,
  • as if in doubt, went out after the other. "Moreau!" I heard
  • him call, and for the moment I do not think I noticed.
  • Then as I handled the books on the shelf it came up in consciousness:
  • Where had I heard the name of Moreau before? I sat down before
  • the window, took out the biscuits that still remained to me,
  • and ate them with an excellent appetite. Moreau!
  • Through the window I saw one of those unaccountable men in white, lugging a
  • packing-case along the beach. Presently the window-frame hid him.
  • Then I heard a key inserted and turned in the lock behind me.
  • After a little while I heard through the locked door the noise
  • of the staghounds, that had now been brought up from the beach.
  • They were not barking, but sniffing and growling in a curious fashion.
  • I could hear the rapid patter of their feet, and Montgomery's voice
  • soothing them.
  • I was very much impressed by the elaborate secrecy of these two men
  • regarding the contents of the place, and for some time I was thinking
  • of that and of the unaccountable familiarity of the name of Moreau;
  • but so odd is the human memory that I could not then recall that
  • well-known name in its proper connection. From that my thoughts
  • went to the indefinable queerness of the deformed man on the beach.
  • I never saw such a gait, such odd motions as he pulled at the box.
  • I recalled that none of these men had spoken to me, though most
  • of them I had found looking at me at one time or another in a
  • peculiarly furtive manner, quite unlike the frank stare of your
  • unsophisticated savage. Indeed, they had all seemed remarkably taciturn,
  • and when they did speak, endowed with very uncanny voices.
  • What was wrong with them? Then I recalled the eyes of Montgomery's
  • ungainly attendant.
  • Just as I was thinking of him he came in. He was now dressed in white,
  • and carried a little tray with some coffee and boiled vegetables thereon.
  • I could hardly repress a shuddering recoil as he came, bending amiably,
  • and placed the tray before me on the table. Then astonishment
  • paralysed me. Under his stringy black locks I saw his ear;
  • it jumped upon me suddenly close to my face. The man had pointed ears,
  • covered with a fine brown fur!
  • "Your breakfast, sair," he said.
  • I stared at his face without attempting to answer him. He turned
  • and went towards the door, regarding me oddly over his shoulder.
  • I followed him out with my eyes; and as I did so, by some odd trick
  • of unconscious cerebration, there came surging into my head the phrase,
  • "The Moreau Hollows"--was it? "The Moreau--" Ah! It sent my memory
  • back ten years. "The Moreau Horrors!" The phrase drifted loose
  • in my mind for a moment, and then I saw it in red lettering on a little
  • buff-coloured pamphlet, to read which made one shiver and creep.
  • Then I remembered distinctly all about it. That long-forgotten
  • pamphlet came back with startling vividness to my mind.
  • I had been a mere lad then, and Moreau was, I suppose, about fifty,--a
  • prominent and masterful physiologist, well-known in scientific
  • circles for his extraordinary imagination and his brutal directness
  • in discussion.
  • Was this the same Moreau? He had published some very astonishing
  • facts in connection with the transfusion of blood, and in
  • addition was known to be doing valuable work on morbid growths.
  • Then suddenly his career was closed. He had to leave England.
  • A journalist obtained access to his laboratory in the capacity
  • of laboratory-assistant, with the deliberate intention of making
  • sensational exposures; and by the help of a shocking accident
  • (if it was an accident), his gruesome pamphlet became notorious.
  • On the day of its publication a wretched dog, flayed and
  • otherwise mutilated, escaped from Moreau's house. It was in
  • the silly season, and a prominent editor, a cousin of the temporary
  • laboratory-assistant, appealed to the conscience of the nation.
  • It was not the first time that conscience has turned against the methods
  • of research. The doctor was simply howled out of the country.
  • It may be that he deserved to be; but I still think that the tepid
  • support of his fellow-investigators and his desertion by the great
  • body of scientific workers was a shameful thing. Yet some of
  • his experiments, by the journalist's account, were wantonly cruel.
  • He might perhaps have purchased his social peace by abandoning
  • his investigations; but he apparently preferred the latter, as most men
  • would who have once fallen under the overmastering spell of research.
  • He was unmarried, and had indeed nothing but his own interest
  • to consider.
  • I felt convinced that this must be the same man. Everything pointed
  • to it. It dawned upon me to what end the puma and the other
  • animals--which had now been brought with other luggage into the
  • enclosure behind the house--were destined; and a curious faint odour,
  • the halitus of something familiar, an odour that had been in
  • the background of my consciousness hitherto, suddenly came forward
  • into the forefront of my thoughts. It was the antiseptic odour
  • of the dissecting-room. I heard the puma growling through the wall,
  • and one of the dogs yelped as though it had been struck.
  • Yet surely, and especially to another scientific man, there was
  • nothing so horrible in vivisection as to account for this secrecy;
  • and by some odd leap in my thoughts the pointed ears and luminous
  • eyes of Montgomery's attendant came back again before me with
  • the sharpest definition. I stared before me out at the green sea,
  • frothing under a freshening breeze, and let these and other strange
  • memories of the last few days chase one another through my mind.
  • What could it all mean? A locked enclosure on a lonely island,
  • a notorious vivisector, and these crippled and distorted men?
  • VIII. THE CRYING OF THE PUMA.
  • MONTGOMERY interrupted my tangle of mystification and suspicion
  • about one o'clock, and his grotesque attendant followed him
  • with a tray bearing bread, some herbs and other eatables,
  • a flask of whiskey, a jug of water, and three glasses and knives.
  • I glanced askance at this strange creature, and found him watching
  • me with his queer, restless eyes. Montgomery said he would lunch
  • with me, but that Moreau was too preoccupied with some work
  • to come.
  • "Moreau!" said I. "I know that name."
  • "The devil you do!" said he. "What an ass I was to mention it to you!
  • I might have thought. Anyhow, it will give you an inkling
  • of our--mysteries. Whiskey?"
  • "No, thanks; I'm an abstainer."
  • "I wish I'd been. But it's no use locking the door
  • after the steed is stolen. It was that infernal
  • stuff which led to my coming here,--that, and a foggy night.
  • I thought myself in luck at the time, when Moreau offered to get me off.
  • It's queer--"
  • "Montgomery," said I, suddenly, as the outer door closed, "why has
  • your man pointed ears?"
  • "Damn!" he said, over his first mouthful of food. He stared at me
  • for a moment, and then repeated, "Pointed ears?"
  • "Little points to them," said I, as calmly as possible, with a catch
  • in my breath; "and a fine black fur at the edges?"
  • He helped himself to whiskey and water with great deliberation.
  • "I was under the impression--that his hair covered his ears."
  • "I saw them as he stooped by me to put that coffee you sent to me
  • on the table. And his eyes shine in the dark."
  • By this time Montgomery had recovered from the surprise of my question.
  • "I always thought," he said deliberately, with a certain
  • accentuation of his flavouring of lisp, "that there _was_ something
  • the matter with his ears, from the way he covered them.
  • What were they like?"
  • I was persuaded from his manner that this ignorance was a pretence.
  • Still, I could hardly tell the man that I thought him a liar.
  • "Pointed," I said; "rather small and furry,--distinctly furry.
  • But the whole man is one of the strangest beings I ever set
  • eyes on."
  • A sharp, hoarse cry of animal pain came from the enclosure behind us.
  • Its depth and volume testified to the puma. I saw Montgomery wince.
  • "Yes?" he said.
  • "Where did you pick up the creature?"
  • "San Francisco. He's an ugly brute, I admit. Half-witted, you know.
  • Can't remember where he came from. But I'm used to him, you know.
  • We both are. How does he strike you?"
  • "He's unnatural," I said. "There's something about him--don't
  • think me fanciful, but it gives me a nasty little sensation,
  • a tightening of my muscles, when he comes near me. It's a touch--of
  • the diabolical, in fact."
  • Montgomery had stopped eating while I told him this. "Rum!" he said.
  • "I can't see it." He resumed his meal. "I had no idea of it,"
  • he said, and masticated. "The crew of the schooner must have
  • felt it the same. Made a dead set at the poor devil. You saw
  • the captain?"
  • Suddenly the puma howled again, this time more painfully.
  • Montgomery swore under his breath. I had half a mind to attack him
  • about the men on the beach. Then the poor brute within gave vent
  • to a series of short, sharp cries.
  • "Your men on the beach," said I; "what race are they?"
  • "Excellent fellows, aren't they?" said he, absentmindedly,
  • knitting his brows as the animal yelled out sharply.
  • I said no more. There was another outcry worse than the former.
  • He looked at me with his dull grey eyes, and then took some
  • more whiskey. He tried to draw me into a discussion about alcohol,
  • professing to have saved my life with it. He seemed anxious
  • to lay stress on the fact that I owed my life to him. I answered
  • him distractedly.
  • Presently our meal came to an end; the misshapen monster with
  • the pointed ears cleared the remains away, and Montgomery left
  • me alone in the room again. All the time he had been in a state
  • of ill-concealed irritation at the noise of the vivisected puma.
  • He had spoken of his odd want of nerve, and left me to the
  • obvious application.
  • I found myself that the cries were singularly irritating,
  • and they grew in depth and intensity as the afternoon wore on.
  • They were painful at first, but their constant resurgence at last
  • altogether upset my balance. I flung aside a crib of Horace I
  • had been reading, and began to clench my fists, to bite my lips,
  • and to pace the room. Presently I got to stopping my ears with
  • my fingers.
  • The emotional appeal of those yells grew upon me steadily,
  • grew at last to such an exquisite expression of suffering that I
  • could stand it in that confined room no longer. I stepped
  • out of the door into the slumberous heat of the late afternoon,
  • and walking past the main entrance--locked again, I noticed--turned
  • the corner of the wall.
  • The crying sounded even louder out of doors. It was as if all the pain
  • in the world had found a voice. Yet had I known such pain was in
  • the next room, and had it been dumb, I believe--I have thought since--I
  • could have stood it well enough. It is when suffering finds a voice
  • and sets our nerves quivering that this pity comes troubling us.
  • But in spite of the brilliant sunlight and the green fans of the trees
  • waving in the soothing sea-breeze, the world was a confusion,
  • blurred with drifting black and red phantasms, until I was out of earshot
  • of the house in the chequered wall.
  • IX. THE THING IN THE FOREST.
  • I STRODE through the undergrowth that clothed the ridge behind the house,
  • scarcely heeding whither I went; passed on through the shadow of a thick
  • cluster of straight-stemmed trees beyond it, and so presently found
  • myself some way on the other side of the ridge, and descending towards
  • a streamlet that ran through a narrow valley. I paused and listened.
  • The distance I had come, or the intervening masses of thicket,
  • deadened any sound that might be coming from the enclosure.
  • The air was still. Then with a rustle a rabbit emerged, and went
  • scampering up the slope before me. I hesitated, and sat down in the edge
  • of the shade.
  • The place was a pleasant one. The rivulet was hidden
  • by the luxuriant vegetation of the banks save at one point,
  • where I caught a triangular patch of its glittering water.
  • On the farther side I saw through a bluish haze a tangle of trees
  • and creepers, and above these again the luminous blue of the sky.
  • Here and there a splash of white or crimson marked the blooming of some
  • trailing epiphyte. I let my eyes wander over this scene for a while,
  • and then began to turn over in my mind again the strange peculiarities
  • of Montgomery's man. But it was too hot to think elaborately,
  • and presently I fell into a tranquil state midway between dozing
  • and waking.
  • From this I was aroused, after I know not how long, by a
  • rustling amidst the greenery on the other side of the stream.
  • For a moment I could see nothing but the waving summits of
  • the ferns and reeds. Then suddenly upon the bank of the stream
  • appeared something--at first I could not distinguish what it was.
  • It bowed its round head to the water, and began to drink.
  • Then I saw it was a man, going on all-fours like a beast. He was clothed
  • in bluish cloth, and was of a copper-coloured hue, with black hair.
  • It seemed that grotesque ugliness was an invariable character of
  • these islanders. I could hear the suck of the water at his lips as
  • he drank.
  • I leant forward to see him better, and a piece of lava, detached by
  • my hand, went pattering down the slope. He looked up guiltily,
  • and his eyes met mine. Forthwith he scrambled to his feet,
  • and stood wiping his clumsy hand across his mouth and regarding me.
  • His legs were scarcely half the length of his body.
  • So, staring one another out of countenance, we remained for perhaps
  • the space of a minute. Then, stopping to look back once or twice,
  • he slunk off among the bushes to the right of me, and I heard
  • the swish of the fronds grow faint in the distance and die away.
  • Long after he had disappeared, I remained sitting up staring
  • in the direction of his retreat. My drowsy tranquillity
  • had gone.
  • I was startled by a noise behind me, and turning suddenly saw
  • the flapping white tail of a rabbit vanishing up the slope.
  • I jumped to my feet. The apparition of this grotesque, half-bestial
  • creature had suddenly populated the stillness of the afternoon for me.
  • I looked around me rather nervously, and regretted that I was unarmed.
  • Then I thought that the man I had just seen had been clothed
  • in bluish cloth, had not been naked as a savage would have been;
  • and I tried to persuade myself from that fact that he was after all
  • probably a peaceful character, that the dull ferocity of his countenance
  • belied him.
  • Yet I was greatly disturbed at the apparition. I walked
  • to the left along the slope, turning my head about and peering
  • this way and that among the straight stems of the trees.
  • Why should a man go on all-fours and drink with his lips? Presently I
  • heard an animal wailing again, and taking it to be the puma, I turned
  • about and walked in a direction diametrically opposite to the sound.
  • This led me down to the stream, across which I stepped and pushed
  • my way up through the undergrowth beyond.
  • I was startled by a great patch of vivid scarlet on the ground,
  • and going up to it found it to be a peculiar fungus, branched and
  • corrugated like a foliaceous lichen, but deliquescing into slime
  • at the touch; and then in the shadow of some luxuriant ferns I
  • came upon an unpleasant thing,--the dead body of a rabbit covered
  • with shining flies, but still warm and with the head torn off.
  • I stopped aghast at the sight of the scattered blood.
  • Here at least was one visitor to the island disposed of!
  • There were no traces of other violence about it. It looked as though it
  • had been suddenly snatched up and killed; and as I stared at the little
  • furry body came the difficulty of how the thing had been done.
  • The vague dread that had been in my mind since I had seen the inhuman
  • face of the man at the stream grew distincter as I stood there.
  • I began to realise the hardihood of my expedition among these
  • unknown people. The thicket about me became altered to my imagination.
  • Every shadow became something more than a shadow,--became an ambush;
  • every rustle became a threat. Invisible things seemed watching me.
  • I resolved to go back to the enclosure on the beach. I suddenly
  • turned away and thrust myself violently, possibly even frantically,
  • through the bushes, anxious to get a clear space about me
  • again.
  • I stopped just in time to prevent myself emerging upon an open space.
  • It was a kind of glade in the forest, made by a fall; seedlings were
  • already starting up to struggle for the vacant space; and beyond,
  • the dense growth of stems and twining vines and splashes of fungus
  • and flowers closed in again. Before me, squatting together upon
  • the fungoid ruins of a huge fallen tree and still unaware of my approach,
  • were three grotesque human figures. One was evidently a female;
  • the other two were men. They were naked, save for swathings
  • of scarlet cloth about the middle; and their skins were of a dull
  • pinkish-drab colour, such as I had seen in no savages before.
  • They had fat, heavy, chinless faces, retreating foreheads,
  • and a scant bristly hair upon their heads. I never saw such
  • bestial-looking creatures.
  • They were talking, or at least one of the men was talking to the other two,
  • and all three had been too closely interested to heed the rustling of
  • my approach. They swayed their heads and shoulders from side to side.
  • The speaker's words came thick and sloppy, and though I could
  • hear them distinctly I could not distinguish what he said.
  • He seemed to me to be reciting some complicated gibberish.
  • Presently his articulation became shriller, and spreading his hands
  • he rose to his feet. At that the others began to gibber in unison,
  • also rising to their feet, spreading their hands and swaying their
  • bodies in rhythm with their chant. I noticed then the abnormal
  • shortness of their legs, and their lank, clumsy feet. All three began
  • slowly to circle round, raising and stamping their feet and waving
  • their arms; a kind of tune crept into their rhythmic recitation,
  • and a refrain,--"Aloola," or "Balloola," it sounded like.
  • Their eyes began to sparkle, and their ugly faces to brighten,
  • with an expression of strange pleasure. Saliva dripped from their
  • lipless mouths.
  • Suddenly, as I watched their grotesque and unaccountable gestures,
  • I perceived clearly for the first time what it was that had offended me,
  • what had given me the two inconsistent and conflicting impressions
  • of utter strangeness and yet of the strangest familiarity.
  • The three creatures engaged in this mysterious rite were human in shape,
  • and yet human beings with the strangest air about them of some
  • familiar animal. Each of these creatures, despite its human form,
  • its rag of clothing, and the rough humanity of its bodily form,
  • had woven into it--into its movements, into the expression of
  • its countenance, into its whole presence--some now irresistible
  • suggestion of a hog, a swinish taint, the unmistakable mark of
  • the beast.
  • I stood overcome by this amazing realisation and then the most horrible
  • questionings came rushing into my mind. They began leaping in the air,
  • first one and then the other, whooping and grunting. Then one slipped,
  • and for a moment was on all-fours,--to recover, indeed, forthwith.
  • But that transitory gleam of the true animalism of these monsters
  • was enough.
  • I turned as noiselessly as possible, and becoming every now
  • and then rigid with the fear of being discovered, as a branch
  • cracked or a leaf rustled, I pushed back into the bushes.
  • It was long before I grew bolder, and dared to move freely.
  • My only idea for the moment was to get away from these foul beings, and I
  • scarcely noticed that I had emerged upon a faint pathway amidst the trees.
  • Then suddenly traversing a little glade, I saw with an unpleasant start
  • two clumsy legs among the trees, walking with noiseless footsteps
  • parallel with my course, and perhaps thirty yards away from me.
  • The head and upper part of the body were hidden by a tangle of creeper.
  • I stopped abruptly, hoping the creature did not see me.
  • The feet stopped as I did. So nervous was I that I controlled
  • an impulse to headlong flight with the utmost difficulty.
  • Then looking hard, I distinguished through the interlacing network
  • the head and body of the brute I had seen drinking. He moved his head.
  • There was an emerald flash in his eyes as he glanced at me from
  • the shadow of the trees, a half-luminous colour that vanished as
  • he turned his head again. He was motionless for a moment, and then
  • with a noiseless tread began running through the green confusion.
  • In another moment he had vanished behind some bushes.
  • I could not see him, but I felt that he had stopped and was watching me
  • again.
  • What on earth was he,--man or beast? What did he want with me?
  • I had no weapon, not even a stick. Flight would be madness.
  • At any rate the Thing, whatever it was, lacked the courage to attack me.
  • Setting my teeth hard, I walked straight towards him.
  • I was anxious not to show the fear that seemed chilling my backbone.
  • I pushed through a tangle of tall white-flowered bushes,
  • and saw him twenty paces beyond, looking over his shoulder at me
  • and hesitating. I advanced a step or two, looking steadfastly into
  • his eyes.
  • "Who are you?" said I.
  • He tried to meet my gaze. "No!" he said suddenly, and turning went
  • bounding away from me through the undergrowth. Then he turned
  • and stared at me again. His eyes shone brightly out of the dusk
  • under the trees.
  • My heart was in my mouth; but I felt my only chance was bluff,
  • and walked steadily towards him. He turned again, and vanished
  • into the dusk. Once more I thought I caught the glint of his eyes,
  • and that was all.
  • For the first time I realised how the lateness of the hour
  • might affect me. The sun had set some minutes since, the swift
  • dusk of the tropics was already fading out of the eastern sky,
  • and a pioneer moth fluttered silently by my head. Unless I would
  • spend the night among the unknown dangers of the mysterious forest,
  • I must hasten back to the enclosure. The thought of a return
  • to that pain-haunted refuge was extremely disagreeable, but still
  • more so was the idea of being overtaken in the open by darkness
  • and all that darkness might conceal. I gave one more look
  • into the blue shadows that had swallowed up this odd creature,
  • and then retraced my way down the slope towards the stream,
  • going as I judged in the direction from which I had come.
  • I walked eagerly, my mind confused with many things,
  • and presently found myself in a level place among scattered trees.
  • The colourless clearness that comes after the sunset flush
  • was darkling; the blue sky above grew momentarily deeper,
  • and the little stars one by one pierced the attenuated light;
  • the interspaces of the trees, the gaps in the further vegetation,
  • that had been hazy blue in the daylight, grew black and mysterious.
  • I pushed on. The colour vanished from the world.
  • The tree-tops rose against the luminous blue sky in inky silhouette,
  • and all below that outline melted into one formless blackness.
  • Presently the trees grew thinner, and the shrubby undergrowth
  • more abundant. Then there was a desolate space covered with
  • a white sand, and then another expanse of tangled bushes.
  • I did not remember crossing the sand-opening before.
  • I began to be tormented by a faint rustling upon my right hand.
  • I thought at first it was fancy, for whenever I stopped there
  • was silence, save for the evening breeze in the tree-tops.
  • Then when I turned to hurry on again there was an echo to
  • my footsteps.
  • I turned away from the thickets, keeping to the more open ground,
  • and endeavouring by sudden turns now and then to surprise something
  • in the act of creeping upon me. I saw nothing, and nevertheless
  • my sense of another presence grew steadily. I increased my pace,
  • and after some time came to a slight ridge, crossed it, and turned sharply,
  • regarding it steadfastly from the further side. It came out black
  • and clear-cut against the darkling sky; and presently a shapeless
  • lump heaved up momentarily against the sky-line and vanished again.
  • I felt assured now that my tawny-faced antagonist was stalking me
  • once more; and coupled with that was another unpleasant realisation,
  • that I had lost my way.
  • For a time I hurried on hopelessly perplexed, and pursued by that
  • stealthy approach. Whatever it was, the Thing either lacked the courage
  • to attack me, or it was waiting to take me at some disadvantage.
  • I kept studiously to the open. At times I would turn and listen;
  • and presently I had half persuaded myself that my pursuer had abandoned
  • the chase, or was a mere creation of my disordered imagination.
  • Then I heard the sound of the sea. I quickened my footsteps
  • almost into a run, and immediately there was a stumble in
  • my rear.
  • I turned suddenly, and stared at the uncertain trees behind me.
  • One black shadow seemed to leap into another. I listened,
  • rigid, and heard nothing but the creep of the blood in my ears.
  • I thought that my nerves were unstrung, and that my imagination
  • was tricking me, and turned resolutely towards the sound of the
  • sea again.
  • In a minute or so the trees grew thinner, and I emerged upon
  • a bare, low headland running out into the sombre water.
  • The night was calm and clear, and the reflection of the growing
  • multitude of the stars shivered in the tranquil heaving of the sea.
  • Some way out, the wash upon an irregular band of reef shone
  • with a pallid light of its own. Westward I saw the zodiacal
  • light mingling with the yellow brilliance of the evening star.
  • The coast fell away from me to the east, and westward it was hidden
  • by the shoulder of the cape. Then I recalled the fact that Moreau's
  • beach lay to the west.
  • A twig snapped behind me, and there was a rustle. I turned, and stood
  • facing the dark trees. I could see nothing--or else I could see too much.
  • Every dark form in the dimness had its ominous quality, its peculiar
  • suggestion of alert watchfulness. So I stood for perhaps a minute,
  • and then, with an eye to the trees still, turned westward to cross
  • the headland; and as I moved, one among the lurking shadows moved
  • to follow me.
  • My heart beat quickly. Presently the broad sweep of a bay
  • to the westward became visible, and I halted again.
  • The noiseless shadow halted a dozen yards from me.
  • A little point of light shone on the further bend of the curve,
  • and the grey sweep of the sandy beach lay faint under the starlight.
  • Perhaps two miles away was that little point of light.
  • To get to the beach I should have to go through the trees where the
  • shadows lurked, and down a bushy slope.
  • I could see the Thing rather more distinctly now. It was no animal,
  • for it stood erect. At that I opened my mouth to speak, and found
  • a hoarse phlegm choked my voice. I tried again, and shouted,
  • "Who is there?" There was no answer. I advanced a step.
  • The Thing did not move, only gathered itself together. My foot
  • struck a stone. That gave me an idea. Without taking my eyes off
  • the black form before me, I stooped and picked up this lump of rock;
  • but at my motion the Thing turned abruptly as a dog might have done,
  • and slunk obliquely into the further darkness. Then I recalled
  • a schoolboy expedient against big dogs, and twisted the rock into
  • my handkerchief, and gave this a turn round my wrist. I heard a movement
  • further off among the shadows, as if the Thing was in retreat.
  • Then suddenly my tense excitement gave way; I broke into a profuse
  • perspiration and fell a-trembling, with my adversary routed and this
  • weapon in my hand.
  • It was some time before I could summon resolution to go down through
  • the trees and bushes upon the flank of the headland to the beach.
  • At last I did it at a run; and as I emerged from the thicket
  • upon the sand, I heard some other body come crashing after me.
  • At that I completely lost my head with fear, and began running
  • along the sand. Forthwith there came the swift patter of soft
  • feet in pursuit. I gave a wild cry, and redoubled my pace.
  • Some dim, black things about three or four times the size of rabbits
  • went running or hopping up from the beach towards the bushes as
  • I passed.
  • So long as I live, I shall remember the terror of that chase.
  • I ran near the water's edge, and heard every now and then the splash
  • of the feet that gained upon me. Far away, hopelessly far,
  • was the yellow light. All the night about us was black and still.
  • Splash, splash, came the pursuing feet, nearer and nearer.
  • I felt my breath going, for I was quite out of training; it whooped
  • as I drew it, and I felt a pain like a knife at my side. I perceived
  • the Thing would come up with me long before I reached the enclosure,
  • and, desperate and sobbing for my breath, I wheeled round upon it
  • and struck at it as it came up to me,--struck with all my strength.
  • The stone came out of the sling of the handkerchief as I did so.
  • As I turned, the Thing, which had been running on all-fours,
  • rose to its feet, and the missile fell fair on its left temple.
  • The skull rang loud, and the animal-man blundered into me,
  • thrust me back with its hands, and went staggering past me to fall
  • headlong upon the sand with its face in the water; and there it lay
  • still.
  • I could not bring myself to approach that black heap. I left
  • it there, with the water rippling round it, under the still stars,
  • and giving it a wide berth pursued my way towards the yellow glow
  • of the house; and presently, with a positive effect of relief,
  • came the pitiful moaning of the puma, the sound that had
  • originally driven me out to explore this mysterious island.
  • At that, though I was faint and horribly fatigued, I gathered
  • together all my strength, and began running again towards the light.
  • I thought I heard a voice calling me.
  • X. THE CRYING OF THE MAN.
  • AS I drew near the house I saw that the light shone from
  • the open door of my room; and then I heard coming from out
  • of the darkness at the side of that orange oblong of light,
  • the voice of Montgomery shouting, "Prendick!" I continued running.
  • Presently I heard him again. I replied by a feeble "Hullo!"
  • and in another moment had staggered up to him.
  • "Where have you been?" said he, holding me at arm's length,
  • so that the light from the door fell on my face. "We have both
  • been so busy that we forgot you until about half an hour ago."
  • He led me into the room and sat me down in the deck chair.
  • For awhile I was blinded by the light. "We did not think you would start
  • to explore this island of ours without telling us," he said; and then,
  • "I was afraid--But--what--Hullo!"
  • My last remaining strength slipped from me, and my head fell forward
  • on my chest. I think he found a certain satisfaction in giving
  • me brandy.
  • "For God's sake," said I, "fasten that door."
  • "You've been meeting some of our curiosities, eh?" said he.
  • He locked the door and turned to me again. He asked me no questions,
  • but gave me some more brandy and water and pressed me to eat.
  • I was in a state of collapse. He said something vague about his
  • forgetting to warn me, and asked me briefly when I left the house
  • and what I had seen.
  • I answered him as briefly, in fragmentary sentences. "Tell me
  • what it all means," said I, in a state bordering on hysterics.
  • "It's nothing so very dreadful," said he. "But I think you
  • have had about enough for one day." The puma suddenly gave
  • a sharp yell of pain. At that he swore under his breath.
  • "I'm damned," said he, "if this place is not as bad as Gower Street,
  • with its cats."
  • "Montgomery," said I, "what was that thing that came after me?
  • Was it a beast or was it a man?"
  • "If you don't sleep to-night," he said, "you'll be off your
  • head to-morrow."
  • I stood up in front of him. "What was that thing that came after me?"
  • I asked.
  • He looked me squarely in the eyes, and twisted his mouth askew.
  • His eyes, which had seemed animated a minute before, went dull.
  • "From your account," said he, "I'm thinking it was a bogle."
  • I felt a gust of intense irritation, which passed as quickly as it came.
  • I flung myself into the chair again, and pressed my hands on my forehead.
  • The puma began once more.
  • Montgomery came round behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.
  • "Look here, Prendick," he said, "I had no business to let
  • you drift out into this silly island of ours. But it's not
  • so bad as you feel, man. Your nerves are worked to rags.
  • Let me give you something that will make you sleep. _That_--will keep
  • on for hours yet. You must simply get to sleep, or I won't answer
  • for it."
  • I did not reply. I bowed forward, and covered my face with my hands.
  • Presently he returned with a small measure containing a dark liquid.
  • This he gave me. I took it unresistingly, and he helped me into
  • the hammock.
  • When I awoke, it was broad day. For a little while I lay flat,
  • staring at the roof above me. The rafters, I observed, were made
  • out of the timbers of a ship. Then I turned my head, and saw a meal
  • prepared for me on the table. I perceived that I was hungry,
  • and prepared to clamber out of the hammock, which, very politely
  • anticipating my intention, twisted round and deposited me upon
  • all-fours on the floor.
  • I got up and sat down before the food. I had a heavy feeling
  • in my head, and only the vaguest memory at first of the things
  • that had happened over night. The morning breeze blew very
  • pleasantly through the unglazed window, and that and the food
  • contributed to the sense of animal comfort which I experienced.
  • Presently the door behind me--the door inward towards the yard
  • of the enclosure--opened. I turned and saw Montgomery's face.
  • "All right," said he. "I'm frightfully busy." And he shut the door.
  • Afterwards I discovered that he forgot to re-lock it.
  • Then I recalled the expression of his face the previous night,
  • and with that the memory of all I had experienced reconstructed
  • itself before me. Even as that fear came back to me came a cry
  • from within; but this time it was not the cry of a puma.
  • I put down the mouthful that hesitated upon my lips, and listened.
  • Silence, save for the whisper of the morning breeze. I began to think my
  • ears had deceived me.
  • After a long pause I resumed my meal, but with my ears still vigilant.
  • Presently I heard something else, very faint and low.
  • I sat as if frozen in my attitude. Though it was faint and low,
  • it moved me more profoundly than all that I had hitherto heard of
  • the abominations behind the wall. There was no mistake this time in
  • the quality of the dim, broken sounds; no doubt at all of their source.
  • For it was groaning, broken by sobs and gasps of anguish.
  • It was no brute this time; it was a human being in torment!
  • As I realised this I rose, and in three steps had crossed the room,
  • seized the handle of the door into the yard, and flung it open
  • before me.
  • "Prendick, man! Stop!" cried Montgomery, intervening.
  • A startled deerhound yelped and snarled. There was blood, I saw,
  • in the sink,--brown, and some scarlet--and I smelt the peculiar
  • smell of carbolic acid. Then through an open doorway beyond,
  • in the dim light of the shadow, I saw something bound painfully
  • upon a framework, scarred, red, and bandaged; and then blotting
  • this out appeared the face of old Moreau, white and terrible.
  • In a moment he had gripped me by the shoulder with a hand that was
  • smeared red, had twisted me off my feet, and flung me headlong back
  • into my own room. He lifted me as though I was a little child.
  • I fell at full length upon the floor, and the door slammed
  • and shut out the passionate intensity of his face.
  • Then I heard the key turn in the lock, and Montgomery's voice
  • in expostulation.
  • "Ruin the work of a lifetime," I heard Moreau say.
  • "He does not understand," said Montgomery. and other things
  • that were inaudible.
  • "I can't spare the time yet," said Moreau.
  • The rest I did not hear. I picked myself up and stood trembling,
  • my mind a chaos of the most horrible misgivings. Could it be possible,
  • I thought, that such a thing as the vivisection of men was carried
  • on here? The question shot like lightning across a tumultuous sky;
  • and suddenly the clouded horror of my mind condensed into a vivid
  • realisation of my own danger.
  • XI. THE HUNTING OF THE MAN.
  • IT came before my mind with an unreasonable hope of escape that
  • the outer door of my room was still open to me. I was convinced now,
  • absolutely assured, that Moreau had been vivisecting a human being.
  • All the time since I had heard his name, I had been trying to link
  • in my mind in some way the grotesque animalism of the islanders
  • with his abominations; and now I thought I saw it all.
  • The memory of his work on the transfusion of blood recurred to me.
  • These creatures I had seen were the victims of some hideous experiment.
  • These sickening scoundrels had merely intended to keep me back,
  • to fool me with their display of confidence, and presently to fall
  • upon me with a fate more horrible than death,--with torture;
  • and after torture the most hideous degradation it is possible
  • to conceive,--to send me off a lost soul, a beast, to the rest of their
  • Comus rout.
  • I looked round for some weapon. Nothing. Then with an inspiration I
  • turned over the deck chair, put my foot on the side of it, and tore
  • away the side rail. It happened that a nail came away with the wood,
  • and projecting, gave a touch of danger to an otherwise petty weapon.
  • I heard a step outside, and incontinently flung open the door and found
  • Montgomery within a yard of it. He meant to lock the outer door!
  • I raised this nailed stick of mine and cut at his face;
  • but he sprang back. I hesitated a moment, then turned and fled,
  • round the corner of the house. "Prendick, man!" I heard his
  • astonished cry, "don't be a silly ass, man!"
  • Another minute, thought I, and he would have had me locked in,
  • and as ready as a hospital rabbit for my fate. He emerged behind
  • the corner, for I heard him shout, "Prendick!" Then he began to run
  • after me, shouting things as he ran. This time running blindly,
  • I went northeastward in a direction at right angles to my
  • previous expedition. Once, as I went running headlong up the beach,
  • I glanced over my shoulder and saw his attendant with him.
  • I ran furiously up the slope, over it, then turning eastward along
  • a rocky valley fringed on either side with jungle I ran for perhaps
  • a mile altogether, my chest straining, my heart beating in my ears;
  • and then hearing nothing of Montgomery or his man, and feeling
  • upon the verge of exhaustion, I doubled sharply back towards
  • the beach as I judged, and lay down in the shelter of a canebrake.
  • There I remained for a long time, too fearful to move, and indeed
  • too fearful even to plan a course of action. The wild scene about me
  • lay sleeping silently under the sun, and the only sound near me was
  • the thin hum of some small gnats that had discovered me. Presently I
  • became aware of a drowsy breathing sound, the soughing of the sea upon
  • the beach.
  • After about an hour I heard Montgomery shouting my name,
  • far away to the north. That set me thinking of my plan of action.
  • As I interpreted it then, this island was inhabited only by these two
  • vivisectors and their animalised victims. Some of these no doubt
  • they could press into their service against me if need arose.
  • I knew both Moreau and Montgomery carried revolvers; and, save for a feeble
  • bar of deal spiked with a small nail, the merest mockery of a mace,
  • I was unarmed.
  • So I lay still there, until I began to think of food and drink;
  • and at that thought the real hopelessness of my position came home to me.
  • I knew no way of getting anything to eat. I was too ignorant of botany
  • to discover any resort of root or fruit that might lie about me;
  • I had no means of trapping the few rabbits upon the island.
  • It grew blanker the more I turned the prospect over. At last in
  • the desperation of my position, my mind turned to the animal men I
  • had encountered. I tried to find some hope in what I remembered of them.
  • In turn I recalled each one I had seen, and tried to draw some augury
  • of assistance from my memory.
  • Then suddenly I heard a staghound bay, and at that realised a new danger.
  • I took little time to think, or they would have caught me then,
  • but snatching up my nailed stick, rushed headlong from my hiding-place
  • towards the sound of the sea. I remember a growth of thorny plants,
  • with spines that stabbed like pen-knives. I emerged bleeding and
  • with torn clothes upon the lip of a long creek opening northward.
  • I went straight into the water without a minute's hesitation, wading up
  • the creek, and presently finding myself kneedeep in a little stream.
  • I scrambled out at last on the westward bank, and with my heart beating
  • loudly in my ears, crept into a tangle of ferns to await the issue.
  • I heard the dog (there was only one) draw nearer, and yelp when it came
  • to the thorns. Then I heard no more, and presently began to think I
  • had escaped.
  • The minutes passed; the silence lengthened out, and at last
  • after an hour of security my courage began to return to me.
  • By this time I was no longer very much terrified or very miserable.
  • I had, as it were, passed the limit of terror and despair.
  • I felt now that my life was practically lost, and that persuasion
  • made me capable of daring anything. I had even a certain wish
  • to encounter Moreau face to face; and as I had waded into the water,
  • I remembered that if I were too hard pressed at least one path
  • of escape from torment still lay open to me,--they could not
  • very well prevent my drowning myself. I had half a mind to drown
  • myself then; but an odd wish to see the whole adventure out,
  • a queer, impersonal, spectacular interest in myself, restrained me.
  • I stretched my limbs, sore and painful from the pricks of the spiny plants,
  • and stared around me at the trees; and, so suddenly that it seemed
  • to jump out of the green tracery about it, my eyes lit upon a black
  • face watching me. I saw that it was the simian creature who had
  • met the launch upon the beach. He was clinging to the oblique
  • stem of a palm-tree. I gripped my stick, and stood up facing him.
  • He began chattering. "You, you, you," was all I could distinguish
  • at first. Suddenly he dropped from the tree, and in another
  • moment was holding the fronds apart and staring curiously
  • at me.
  • I did not feel the same repugnance towards this creature which I
  • had experienced in my encounters with the other Beast Men.
  • "You," he said, "in the boat." He was a man, then,--at least as much
  • of a man as Montgomery's attendant,--for he could talk.
  • "Yes," I said, "I came in the boat. From the ship."
  • "Oh!" he said, and his bright, restless eyes travelled over me,
  • to my hands, to the stick I carried, to my feet, to the tattered places
  • in my coat, and the cuts and scratches I had received from the thorns.
  • He seemed puzzled at something. His eyes came back to my hands.
  • He held his own hand out and counted his digits slowly, "One, two,
  • three, four, five--eigh?"
  • I did not grasp his meaning then; afterwards I was to find that
  • a great proportion of these Beast People had malformed hands,
  • lacking sometimes even three digits. But guessing this was
  • in some way a greeting, I did the same thing by way of reply.
  • He grinned with immense satisfaction. Then his swift roving
  • glance went round again; he made a swift movement--and vanished.
  • The fern fronds he had stood between came swishing together.
  • I pushed out of the brake after him, and was astonished to find
  • him swinging cheerfully by one lank arm from a rope of creepers
  • that looped down from the foliage overhead. His back was to me.
  • "Hullo!" said I.
  • He came down with a twisting jump, and stood facing me.
  • "I say," said I, "where can I get something to eat?"
  • "Eat!" he said. "Eat Man's food, now." And his eye went back
  • to the swing of ropes. "At the huts."
  • "But where are the huts?"
  • "Oh!"
  • "I'm new, you know."
  • At that he swung round, and set off at a quick walk.
  • All his motions were curiously rapid. "Come along," said he.
  • I went with him to see the adventure out. I guessed the huts were some
  • rough shelter where he and some more of these Beast People lived.
  • I might perhaps find them friendly, find some handle in their minds
  • to take hold of. I did not know how far they had forgotten their
  • human heritage.
  • My ape-like companion trotted along by my side, with his hands
  • hanging down and his jaw thrust forward. I wondered what memory
  • he might have in him. "How long have you been on this island?"
  • said I.
  • "How long?" he asked; and after having the question repeated,
  • he held up three fingers.
  • The creature was little better than an idiot. I tried
  • to make out what he meant by that, and it seems I bored him.
  • After another question or two he suddenly left my side and went
  • leaping at some fruit that hung from a tree. He pulled down
  • a handful of prickly husks and went on eating the contents.
  • I noted this with satisfaction, for here at least was a hint for feeding.
  • I tried him with some other questions, but his chattering, prompt responses
  • were as often as not quite at cross purposes with my question.
  • Some few were appropriate, others quite parrot-like.
  • I was so intent upon these peculiarities that I scarcely noticed the path
  • we followed. Presently we came to trees, all charred and brown,
  • and so to a bare place covered with a yellow-white incrustation,
  • across which a drifting smoke, pungent in whiffs to nose and eyes,
  • went drifting. On our right, over a shoulder of bare rock, I saw
  • the level blue of the sea. The path coiled down abruptly into a narrow
  • ravine between two tumbled and knotty masses of blackish scoriae.
  • Into this we plunged.
  • It was extremely dark, this passage, after the blinding sunlight reflected
  • from the sulphurous ground. Its walls grew steep, and approached
  • each other. Blotches of green and crimson drifted across my eyes.
  • My conductor stopped suddenly. "Home!" said he, and I stood
  • in a floor of a chasm that was at first absolutely dark to me.
  • I heard some strange noises, and thrust the knuckles of my left hand
  • into my eyes. I became aware of a disagreeable odor, like that of
  • a monkey's cage ill-cleaned. Beyond, the rock opened again upon
  • a gradual slope of sunlit greenery, and on either hand the light
  • smote down through narrow ways into the central gloom.
  • XII. THE SAYERS OF THE LAW.
  • THEN something cold touched my hand. I started violently,
  • and saw close to me a dim pinkish thing, looking more like a flayed
  • child than anything else in the world. The creature had exactly
  • the mild but repulsive features of a sloth, the same low forehead
  • and slow gestures.
  • As the first shock of the change of light passed, I saw about me
  • more distinctly. The little sloth-like creature was standing and
  • staring at me. My conductor had vanished. The place was a narrow
  • passage between high walls of lava, a crack in the knotted rock,
  • and on either side interwoven heaps of sea-mat, palm-fans, and reeds
  • leaning against the rock formed rough and impenetrably dark dens.
  • The winding way up the ravine between these was scarcely three yards wide,
  • and was disfigured by lumps of decaying fruit-pulp and other refuse,
  • which accounted for the disagreeable stench of the place.
  • The little pink sloth-creature was still blinking at me when my
  • Ape-man reappeared at the aperture of the nearest of these dens,
  • and beckoned me in. As he did so a slouching monster wriggled out
  • of one of the places, further up this strange street, and stood up in
  • featureless silhouette against the bright green beyond, staring at me.
  • I hesitated, having half a mind to bolt the way I had come; and then,
  • determined to go through with the adventure, I gripped my nailed stick
  • about the middle and crawled into the little evil-smelling lean-to
  • after my conductor.
  • It was a semi-circular space, shaped like the half of a bee-hive;
  • and against the rocky wall that formed the inner side of it was a pile
  • of variegated fruits, cocoa-nuts among others. Some rough vessels
  • of lava and wood stood about the floor, and one on a rough stool.
  • There was no fire. In the darkest corner of the hut sat a shapeless
  • mass of darkness that grunted "Hey!" as I came in, and my Ape-man
  • stood in the dim light of the doorway and held out a split cocoa-nut
  • to me as I crawled into the other corner and squatted down.
  • I took it, and began gnawing it, as serenely as possible, in spite of a
  • certain trepidation and the nearly intolerable closeness of the den.
  • The little pink sloth-creature stood in the aperture of the hut,
  • and something else with a drab face and bright eyes came staring over
  • its shoulder.
  • "Hey!" came out of the lump of mystery opposite. "It is a man."
  • "It is a man," gabbled my conductor, "a man, a man, a five-man,
  • like me."
  • "Shut up!" said the voice from the dark, and grunted.
  • I gnawed my cocoa-nut amid an impressive stillness.
  • I peered hard into the blackness, but could distinguish nothing.
  • "It is a man," the voice repeated. "He comes to live with us?"
  • It was a thick voice, with something in it--a kind of whistling
  • overtone--that struck me as peculiar; but the English accent was
  • strangely good.
  • The Ape-man looked at me as though he expected something.
  • I perceived the pause was interrogative. "He comes to live with you,"
  • I said.
  • "It is a man. He must learn the Law."
  • I began to distinguish now a deeper blackness in the black,
  • a vague outline of a hunched-up figure. Then I noticed
  • the opening of the place was darkened by two more black heads.
  • My hand tightened on my stick.
  • The thing in the dark repeated in a louder tone, "Say the words."
  • I had missed its last remark. "Not to go on all-fours; that is the Law,"
  • it repeated in a kind of sing-song.
  • I was puzzled.
  • "Say the words," said the Ape-man, repeating, and the figures
  • in the doorway echoed this, with a threat in the tone of their voices.
  • I realised that I had to repeat this idiotic formula; and then
  • began the insanest ceremony. The voice in the dark began intoning
  • a mad litany, line by line, and I and the rest to repeat it.
  • As they did so, they swayed from side to side in the oddest way,
  • and beat their hands upon their knees; and I followed their example.
  • I could have imagined I was already dead and in another world.
  • That dark hut, these grotesque dim figures, just flecked here and
  • there by a glimmer of light, and all of them swaying in unison and
  • chanting,
  • "Not to go on all-fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?
  • "Not to suck up Drink; that is the Law. Are we not Men?
  • "Not to eat Fish or Flesh; that is the Law. Are we not Men?
  • "Not to claw the Bark of Trees; that is the Law. Are we not Men?
  • "Not to chase other Men; that is the Law. Are we not Men?"
  • And so from the prohibition of these acts of folly,
  • on to the prohibition of what I thought then were the maddest,
  • most impossible, and most indecent things one could well imagine.
  • A kind of rhythmic fervour fell on all of us; we gabbled
  • and swayed faster and faster, repeating this amazing Law.
  • Superficially the contagion of these brutes was upon me, but deep
  • down within me the laughter and disgust struggled together.
  • We ran through a long list of prohibitions, and then the chant swung
  • round to a new formula.
  • "_His_ is the House of Pain.
  • "_His_ is the Hand that makes.
  • "_His_ is the Hand that wounds.
  • "_His_ is the Hand that heals."
  • And so on for another long series, mostly quite incomprehensible
  • gibberish to me about _Him_, whoever he might be. I could have fancied
  • it was a dream, but never before have I heard chanting in a dream.
  • "_His_ is the lightning flash," we sang. "_His_ is the deep, salt sea."
  • A horrible fancy came into my head that Moreau, after animalising
  • these men, had infected their dwarfed brains with a kind of
  • deification of himself. However, I was too keenly aware of white
  • teeth and strong claws about me to stop my chanting on that account.
  • "_His_ are the stars in the sky."
  • At last that song ended. I saw the Ape-man's face shining
  • with perspiration; and my eyes being now accustomed to the darkness,
  • I saw more distinctly the figure in the corner from which the voice came.
  • It was the size of a man, but it seemed covered with a dull grey
  • hair almost like a Skye-terrier. What was it? What were they all?
  • Imagine yourself surrounded by all the most horrible cripples
  • and maniacs it is possible to conceive, and you may understand
  • a little of my feelings with these grotesque caricatures of humanity
  • about me.
  • "He is a five-man, a five-man, a five-man--like me," said the Ape-man.
  • I held out my hands. The grey creature in the corner leant forward.
  • "Not to run on all-fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?"
  • he said.
  • He put out a strangely distorted talon and gripped my fingers.
  • The thing was almost like the hoof of a deer produced into claws.
  • I could have yelled with surprise and pain. His face came
  • forward and peered at my nails, came forward into the light of
  • the opening of the hut and I saw with a quivering disgust that it
  • was like the face of neither man nor beast, but a mere shock
  • of grey hair, with three shadowy over-archings to mark the eyes
  • and mouth.
  • "He has little nails," said this grisly creature in his hairy beard.
  • "It is well."
  • He threw my hand down, and instinctively I gripped my stick.
  • "Eat roots and herbs; it is His will," said the Ape-man.
  • "I am the Sayer of the Law," said the grey figure. "Here come
  • all that be new to learn the Law. I sit in the darkness and say
  • the Law."
  • "It is even so," said one of the beasts in the doorway.
  • "Evil are the punishments of those who break the Law.
  • None escape."
  • "None escape," said the Beast Folk, glancing furtively at one another.
  • "None, none," said the Ape-man,--"none escape. See! I did a little thing,
  • a wrong thing, once. I jabbered, jabbered, stopped talking.
  • None could understand. I am burnt, branded in the hand. He is great.
  • He is good!"
  • "None escape," said the grey creature in the corner.
  • "None escape," said the Beast People, looking askance at one another.
  • "For every one the want that is bad," said the grey Sayer of the Law.
  • "What you will want we do not know; we shall know. Some want
  • to follow things that move, to watch and slink and wait and spring;
  • to kill and bite, bite deep and rich, sucking the blood.
  • It is bad. 'Not to chase other Men; that is the Law.
  • Are we not Men? Not to eat Flesh or Fish; that is the Law. Are we
  • not Men?'"
  • "None escape," said a dappled brute standing in the doorway.
  • "For every one the want is bad," said the grey Sayer of the Law.
  • "Some want to go tearing with teeth and hands into the roots of things,
  • snuffing into the earth. It is bad."
  • "None escape," said the men in the door.
  • "Some go clawing trees; some go scratching at the graves of the dead;
  • some go fighting with foreheads or feet or claws; some bite suddenly,
  • none giving occasion; some love uncleanness."
  • "None escape," said the Ape-man, scratching his calf.
  • "None escape," said the little pink sloth-creature.
  • "Punishment is sharp and sure. Therefore learn the Law.
  • Say the words."
  • And incontinently he began again the strange litany of the Law,
  • and again I and all these creatures began singing and swaying.
  • My head reeled with this jabbering and the close stench of the place;
  • but I kept on, trusting to find presently some chance of a
  • new development.
  • "Not to go on all-fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?"
  • We were making such a noise that I noticed nothing of a tumult outside,
  • until some one, who I think was one of the two Swine Men I
  • had seen, thrust his head over the little pink sloth-creature
  • and shouted something excitedly, something that I did not catch.
  • Incontinently those at the opening of the hut vanished; my Ape-man
  • rushed out; the thing that had sat in the dark followed him
  • (I only observed that it was big and clumsy, and covered with silvery
  • hair), and I was left alone. Then before I reached the aperture I heard
  • the yelp of a staghound.
  • In another moment I was standing outside the hovel, my chair-rail
  • in my hand, every muscle of me quivering. Before me were the clumsy
  • backs of perhaps a score of these Beast People, their misshapen heads
  • half hidden by their shoulder-blades. They were gesticulating excitedly.
  • Other half-animal faces glared interrogation out of the hovels.
  • Looking in the direction in which they faced, I saw coming through
  • the haze under the trees beyond the end of the passage of dens the dark
  • figure and awful white face of Moreau. He was holding the leaping
  • staghound back, and close behind him came Montgomery revolver
  • in hand.
  • For a moment I stood horror-struck. I turned and saw the passage
  • behind me blocked by another heavy brute, with a huge grey
  • face and twinkling little eyes, advancing towards me.
  • I looked round and saw to the right of me and a half-dozen yards
  • in front of me a narrow gap in the wall of rock through which a ray
  • of light slanted into the shadows.
  • "Stop!" cried Moreau as I strode towards this, and then, "Hold him!"
  • At that, first one face turned towards me and then others.
  • Their bestial minds were happily slow. I dashed my shoulder
  • into a clumsy monster who was turning to see what Moreau meant,
  • and flung him forward into another. I felt his hands fly round,
  • clutching at me and missing me. The little pink sloth-creature
  • dashed at me, and I gashed down its ugly face with the nail
  • in my stick and in another minute was scrambling up a steep
  • side pathway, a kind of sloping chimney, out of the ravine.
  • I heard a howl behind me, and cries of "Catch him!" "Hold him!"
  • and the grey-faced creature appeared behind me and jammed
  • his huge bulk into the cleft. "Go on! go on!" they howled.
  • I clambered up the narrow cleft in the rock and came out upon
  • the sulphur on the westward side of the village of the Beast Men.
  • That gap was altogether fortunate for me, for the narrow chimney,
  • slanting obliquely upward, must have impeded the nearer pursuers.
  • I ran over the white space and down a steep slope,
  • through a scattered growth of trees, and came to a low-lying
  • stretch of tall reeds, through which I pushed into a dark,
  • thick undergrowth that was black and succulent under foot.
  • As I plunged into the reeds, my foremost pursuers emerged from the gap.
  • I broke my way through this undergrowth for some minutes.
  • The air behind me and about me was soon full of threatening cries.
  • I heard the tumult of my pursuers in the gap up the slope, then the
  • crashing of the reeds, and every now and then the crackling crash
  • of a branch. Some of the creatures roared like excited beasts of prey.
  • The staghound yelped to the left. I heard Moreau and Montgomery shouting
  • in the same direction. I turned sharply to the right. It seemed
  • to me even then that I heard Montgomery shouting for me to run for
  • my life.
  • Presently the ground gave rich and oozy under my feet; but I was
  • desperate and went headlong into it, struggled through kneedeep,
  • and so came to a winding path among tall canes. The noise of my
  • pursuers passed away to my left. In one place three strange, pink,
  • hopping animals, about the size of cats, bolted before my footsteps.
  • This pathway ran up hill, across another open space covered
  • with white incrustation, and plunged into a canebrake again.
  • Then suddenly it turned parallel with the edge of a steep-walled gap,
  • which came without warning, like the ha-ha of an English park,--turned
  • with an unexpected abruptness. I was still running with all
  • my might, and I never saw this drop until I was flying headlong through
  • the air.
  • I fell on my forearms and head, among thorns, and rose with a torn
  • ear and bleeding face. I had fallen into a precipitous ravine,
  • rocky and thorny, full of a hazy mist which drifted about me in wisps,
  • and with a narrow streamlet from which this mist came meandering
  • down the centre. I was astonished at this thin fog in the full
  • blaze of daylight; but I had no time to stand wondering then.
  • I turned to my right, down-stream, hoping to come to the sea
  • in that direction, and so have my way open to drown myself.
  • It was only later I found that I had dropped my nailed stick in
  • my fall.
  • Presently the ravine grew narrower for a space, and carelessly
  • I stepped into the stream. I jumped out again pretty quickly,
  • for the water was almost boiling. I noticed too there was a thin
  • sulphurous scum drifting upon its coiling water. Almost immediately
  • came a turn in the ravine, and the indistinct blue horizon.
  • The nearer sea was flashing the sun from a myriad facets.
  • I saw my death before me; but I was hot and panting, with the warm
  • blood oozing out on my face and running pleasantly through my veins.
  • I felt more than a touch of exultation too, at having distanced
  • my pursuers. It was not in me then to go out and drown myself yet.
  • I stared back the way I had come.
  • I listened. Save for the hum of the gnats and the chirp of some small
  • insects that hopped among the thorns, the air was absolutely still.
  • Then came the yelp of a dog, very faint, and a chattering and gibbering,
  • the snap of a whip, and voices. They grew louder, then fainter again.
  • The noise receded up the stream and faded away. For a while the chase
  • was over; but I knew now how much hope of help for me lay in the
  • Beast People.
  • XIII. A PARLEY.
  • I TURNED again and went on down towards the sea. I found the hot stream
  • broadened out to a shallow, weedy sand, in which an abundance of crabs
  • and long-bodied, many-legged creatures started from my footfall.
  • I walked to the very edge of the salt water, and then I felt I was safe.
  • I turned and stared, arms akimbo, at the thick green behind me,
  • into which the steamy ravine cut like a smoking gash.
  • But, as I say, I was too full of excitement and (a true saying,
  • though those who have never known danger may doubt it) too desperate
  • to die.
  • Then it came into my head that there was one chance before me yet.
  • While Moreau and Montgomery and their bestial rabble chased me
  • through the island, might I not go round the beach until I came
  • to their enclosure,--make a flank march upon them, in fact,
  • and then with a rock lugged out of their loosely-built wall, perhaps,
  • smash in the lock of the smaller door and see what I could find
  • (knife, pistol, or what not) to fight them with when they returned?
  • It was at any rate something to try.
  • So I turned to the westward and walked along by the water's edge.
  • The setting sun flashed his blinding heat into my eyes.
  • The slight Pacific tide was running in with a gentle ripple.
  • Presently the shore fell away southward, and the sun came round
  • upon my right hand. Then suddenly, far in front of me, I saw
  • first one and then several figures emerging from the bushes,--Moreau,
  • with his grey staghound, then Montgomery, and two others.
  • At that I stopped.
  • They saw me, and began gesticulating and advancing. I stood watching
  • them approach. The two Beast Men came running forward to cut me
  • off from the undergrowth, inland. Montgomery came, running also,
  • but straight towards me. Moreau followed slower with the dog.
  • At last I roused myself from my inaction, and turning seaward walked
  • straight into the water. The water was very shallow at first.
  • I was thirty yards out before the waves reached to my waist.
  • Dimly I could see the intertidal creatures darting away from
  • my feet.
  • "What are you doing, man?" cried Montgomery.
  • I turned, standing waist deep, and stared at them.
  • Montgomery stood panting at the margin of the water. His face
  • was bright-red with exertion, his long flaxen hair blown about
  • his head, and his dropping nether lip showed his irregular teeth.
  • Moreau was just coming up, his face pale and firm, and the dog at his
  • hand barked at me. Both men had heavy whips. Farther up the beach
  • stared the Beast Men.
  • "What am I doing? I am going to drown myself," said I.
  • Montgomery and Moreau looked at each other. "Why?" asked Moreau.
  • "Because that is better than being tortured by you."
  • "I told you so," said Montgomery, and Moreau said something
  • in a low tone.
  • "What makes you think I shall torture you?" asked Moreau.
  • "What I saw," I said. "And those--yonder."
  • "Hush!" said Moreau, and held up his hand.
  • "I will not," said I. "They were men: what are they now?
  • I at least will not be like them."
  • I looked past my interlocutors. Up the beach were M'ling, Montgomery's
  • attendant, and one of the white-swathed brutes from the boat.
  • Farther up, in the shadow of the trees, I saw my little Ape-man,
  • and behind him some other dim figures.
  • "Who are these creatures?" said I, pointing to them and raising
  • my voice more and more that it might reach them. "They were men,
  • men like yourselves, whom you have infected with some bestial
  • taint,--men whom you have enslaved, and whom you still fear.
  • "You who listen," I cried, pointing now to Moreau and shouting past
  • him to the Beast Men,--"You who listen! Do you not see these men
  • still fear you, go in dread of you? Why, then, do you fear them?
  • You are many--"
  • "For God's sake," cried Montgomery, "stop that, Prendick!"
  • "Prendick!" cried Moreau.
  • They both shouted together, as if to drown my voice; and behind
  • them lowered the staring faces of the Beast Men, wondering,
  • their deformed hands hanging down, their shoulders hunched up.
  • They seemed, as I fancied, to be trying to understand me, to remember,
  • I thought, something of their human past.
  • I went on shouting, I scarcely remember what,--that Moreau
  • and Montgomery could be killed, that they were not to be feared:
  • that was the burden of what I put into the heads of the Beast People.
  • I saw the green-eyed man in the dark rags, who had met me on
  • the evening of my arrival, come out from among the trees, and others
  • followed him, to hear me better. At last for want of breath
  • I paused.
  • "Listen to me for a moment," said the steady voice of Moreau;
  • "and then say what you will."
  • "Well?" said I.
  • He coughed, thought, then shouted: "Latin, Prendick! bad Latin,
  • schoolboy Latin; but try and understand. Hi non sunt homines;
  • sunt animalia qui nos habemus--vivisected. A humanising process.
  • I will explain. Come ashore."
  • I laughed. "A pretty story," said I. "They talk, build houses.
  • They were men. It's likely I'll come ashore."
  • "The water just beyond where you stand is deep--and full of sharks."
  • "That's my way," said I. "Short and sharp. Presently."
  • "Wait a minute." He took something out of his pocket that flashed back
  • the sun, and dropped the object at his feet. "That's a loaded revolver,"
  • said he. "Montgomery here will do the same. Now we are going
  • up the beach until you are satisfied the distance is safe.
  • Then come and take the revolvers."
  • "Not I! You have a third between you."
  • "I want you to think over things, Prendick. In the first place,
  • I never asked you to come upon this island. If we vivisected men,
  • we should import men, not beasts. In the next, we had you
  • drugged last night, had we wanted to work you any mischief;
  • and in the next, now your first panic is over and you can think
  • a little, is Montgomery here quite up to the character you give him?
  • We have chased you for your good. Because this island is full
  • of inimical phenomena. Besides, why should we want to shoot you
  • when you have just offered to drown yourself?"
  • "Why did you set--your people onto me when I was in the hut?"
  • "We felt sure of catching you, and bringing you out of danger.
  • Afterwards we drew away from the scent, for your good."
  • I mused. It seemed just possible. Then I remembered something again.
  • "But I saw," said I, "in the enclosure--"
  • "That was the puma."
  • "Look here, Prendick," said Montgomery, "you're a silly ass!
  • Come out of the water and take these revolvers, and talk.
  • We can't do anything more than we could do now."
  • I will confess that then, and indeed always, I distrusted
  • and dreaded Moreau; but Montgomery was a man I felt I understood.
  • "Go up the beach," said I, after thinking, and added, "holding your
  • hands up."
  • "Can't do that," said Montgomery, with an explanatory nod over
  • his shoulder. "Undignified."
  • "Go up to the trees, then," said I, "as you please."
  • "It's a damned silly ceremony," said Montgomery.
  • Both turned and faced the six or seven grotesque creatures,
  • who stood there in the sunlight, solid, casting shadows, moving,
  • and yet so incredibly unreal. Montgomery cracked his whip at them,
  • and forthwith they all turned and fled helter-skelter into the trees;
  • and when Montgomery and Moreau were at a distance I judged sufficient,
  • I waded ashore, and picked up and examined the revolvers.
  • To satisfy myself against the subtlest trickery, I discharged one at
  • a round lump of lava, and had the satisfaction of seeing the stone
  • pulverised and the beach splashed with lead. Still I hesitated for
  • a moment.
  • "I'll take the risk," said I, at last; and with a revolver in each
  • hand I walked up the beach towards them.
  • "That's better," said Moreau, without affectation. "As it is, you have
  • wasted the best part of my day with your confounded imagination."
  • And with a touch of contempt which humiliated me, he and Montgomery
  • turned and went on in silence before me.
  • The knot of Beast Men, still wondering, stood back among the trees.
  • I passed them as serenely as possible. One started to follow me,
  • but retreated again when Montgomery cracked his whip. The rest
  • stood silent--watching. They may once have been animals; but I never
  • before saw an animal trying to think.
  • XIV. DOCTOR MOREAU EXPLAINS.
  • "AND now, Prendick, I will explain," said Doctor Moreau,
  • so soon as we had eaten and drunk. "I must confess that
  • you are the most dictatorial guest I ever entertained.
  • I warn you that this is the last I shall do to oblige you.
  • The next thing you threaten to commit suicide about, I shan't
  • do,--even at some personal inconvenience."
  • He sat in my deck chair, a cigar half consumed in his white,
  • dexterous-looking fingers. The light of the swinging lamp fell on his
  • white hair; he stared through the little window out at the starlight.
  • I sat as far away from him as possible, the table between us
  • and the revolvers to hand. Montgomery was not present.
  • I did not care to be with the two of them in such a little room.
  • "You admit that the vivisected human being, as you called it, is,
  • after all, only the puma?" said Moreau. He had made me visit
  • that horror in the inner room, to assure myself of its inhumanity.
  • "It is the puma," I said, "still alive, but so cut and mutilated
  • as I pray I may never see living flesh again. Of all vile--"
  • "Never mind that," said Moreau; "at least, spare me those
  • youthful horrors. Montgomery used to be just the same.
  • You admit that it is the puma. Now be quiet, while I reel off
  • my physiological lecture to you."
  • And forthwith, beginning in the tone of a man supremely bored,
  • but presently warming a little, he explained his work to me.
  • He was very simple and convincing. Now and then there was a touch
  • of sarcasm in his voice. Presently I found myself hot with shame at our
  • mutual positions.
  • The creatures I had seen were not men, had never been men.
  • They were animals, humanised animals,--triumphs of vivisection.
  • "You forget all that a skilled vivisector can do with living things,"
  • said Moreau. "For my own part, I'm puzzled why the things
  • I have done here have not been done before. Small efforts,
  • of course, have been made,--amputation, tongue-cutting, excisions.
  • Of course you know a squint may be induced or cured by surgery?
  • Then in the case of excisions you have all kinds of secondary changes,
  • pigmentary disturbances, modifications of the passions, alterations in
  • the secretion of fatty tissue. I have no doubt you have heard of
  • these things?"
  • "Of course," said I. "But these foul creatures of yours--"
  • "All in good time," said he, waving his hand at me; "I am only beginning.
  • Those are trivial cases of alteration. Surgery can do better things
  • than that. There is building up as well as breaking down and changing.
  • You have heard, perhaps, of a common surgical operation resorted to in
  • cases where the nose has been destroyed: a flap of skin is cut from
  • the forehead, turned down on the nose, and heals in the new position.
  • This is a kind of grafting in a new position of part of an animal
  • upon itself. Grafting of freshly obtained material from another
  • animal is also possible,--the case of teeth, for example.
  • The grafting of skin and bone is done to facilitate healing:
  • the surgeon places in the middle of the wound pieces of skin snipped
  • from another animal, or fragments of bone from a victim freshly killed.
  • Hunter's cock-spur--possibly you have heard of that--flourished on
  • the bull's neck; and the rhinoceros rats of the Algerian zouaves are
  • also to be thought of,--monsters manufactured by transferring a slip
  • from the tail of an ordinary rat to its snout, and allowing it to heal in
  • that position."
  • "Monsters manufactured!" said I. "Then you mean to tell me--"
  • "Yes. These creatures you have seen are animals carven and wrought
  • into new shapes. To that, to the study of the plasticity of
  • living forms, my life has been devoted. I have studied for years,
  • gaining in knowledge as I go. I see you look horrified, and yet I
  • am telling you nothing new. It all lay in the surface of practical
  • anatomy years ago, but no one had the temerity to touch it.
  • It is not simply the outward form of an animal which I can change.
  • The physiology, the chemical rhythm of the creature, may also be made
  • to undergo an enduring modification,--of which vaccination and other
  • methods of inoculation with living or dead matter are examples
  • that will, no doubt, be familiar to you. A similar operation is
  • the transfusion of blood,--with which subject, indeed, I began.
  • These are all familiar cases. Less so, and probably far more extensive,
  • were the operations of those mediaeval practitioners who made
  • dwarfs and beggar-cripples, show-monsters,--some vestiges of whose
  • art still remain in the preliminary manipulation of the young
  • mountebank or contortionist. Victor Hugo gives an account of them
  • in 'L'Homme qui Rit.'--But perhaps my meaning grows plain now.
  • You begin to see that it is a possible thing to transplant tissue
  • from one part of an animal to another, or from one animal to another;
  • to alter its chemical reactions and methods of growth; to modify
  • the articulations of its limbs; and, indeed, to change it in its most
  • intimate structure.
  • "And yet this extraordinary branch of knowledge has never been sought
  • as an end, and systematically, by modern investigators until I took it up!
  • Some such things have been hit upon in the last resort of surgery;
  • most of the kindred evidence that will recur to your mind has been
  • demonstrated as it were by accident,--by tyrants, by criminals,
  • by the breeders of horses and dogs, by all kinds of untrained
  • clumsy-handed men working for their own immediate ends.
  • I was the first man to take up this question armed with antiseptic surgery,
  • and with a really scientific knowledge of the laws of growth.
  • Yet one would imagine it must have been practised in secret before.
  • Such creatures as the Siamese Twins--And in the vaults of
  • the Inquisition. No doubt their chief aim was artistic torture,
  • but some at least of the inquisitors must have had a touch of
  • scientific curiosity."
  • "But," said I, "these things--these animals talk!"
  • He said that was so, and proceeded to point out that the possibility
  • of vivisection does not stop at a mere physical metamorphosis.
  • A pig may be educated. The mental structure is even less determinate
  • than the bodily. In our growing science of hypnotism we find
  • the promise of a possibility of superseding old inherent instincts by
  • new suggestions, grafting upon or replacing the inherited fixed ideas.
  • Very much indeed of what we call moral education, he said,
  • is such an artificial modification and perversion of instinct;
  • pugnacity is trained into courageous self-sacrifice, and suppressed
  • sexuality into religious emotion. And the great difference
  • between man and monkey is in the larynx, he continued,--in the
  • incapacity to frame delicately different sound-symbols by which
  • thought could be sustained. In this I failed to agree with him,
  • but with a certain incivility he declined to notice my objection.
  • He repeated that the thing was so, and continued his account of
  • his work.
  • I asked him why he had taken the human form as a model.
  • There seemed to me then, and there still seems to me now, a strange
  • wickedness for that choice.
  • He confessed that he had chosen that form by chance. "I might just
  • as well have worked to form sheep into llamas and llamas into sheep.
  • I suppose there is something in the human form that appeals to
  • the artistic turn of mind more powerfully than any animal shape can.
  • But I've not confined myself to man-making. Once or twice--" He was silent,
  • for a minute perhaps. "These years! How they have slipped by!
  • And here I have wasted a day saving your life, and am now wasting an hour
  • explaining myself!"
  • "But," said I, "I still do not understand. Where is your justification
  • for inflicting all this pain? The only thing that could excuse
  • vivisection to me would be some application--"
  • "Precisely," said he. "But, you see, I am differently constituted.
  • We are on different platforms. You are a materialist."
  • "I am _not_ a materialist," I began hotly.
  • "In my view--in my view. For it is just this question of pain
  • that parts us. So long as visible or audible pain turns you sick;
  • so long as your own pains drive you; so long as pain underlies
  • your propositions about sin,--so long, I tell you, you are
  • an animal, thinking a little less obscurely what an animal feels.
  • This pain--"
  • I gave an impatient shrug at such sophistry.
  • "Oh, but it is such a little thing! A mind truly opened to
  • what science has to teach must see that it is a little thing.
  • It may be that save in this little planet, this speck of cosmic dust,
  • invisible long before the nearest star could be attained--it may be,
  • I say, that nowhere else does this thing called pain occur.
  • But the laws we feel our way towards--Why, even on this earth, even among
  • living things, what pain is there?"
  • As he spoke he drew a little penknife from his pocket, opened the
  • smaller blade, and moved his chair so that I could see his thigh.
  • Then, choosing the place deliberately, he drove the blade into
  • his leg and withdrew it.
  • "No doubt," he said, "you have seen that before. It does not hurt
  • a pin-prick. But what does it show? The capacity for pain is not
  • needed in the muscle, and it is not placed there,--is but little
  • needed in the skin, and only here and there over the thigh is
  • a spot capable of feeling pain. Pain is simply our intrinsic
  • medical adviser to warn us and stimulate us. Not all living
  • flesh is painful; nor is all nerve, not even all sensory nerve.
  • There's no taint of pain, real pain, in the sensations of the optic
  • nerve. If you wound the optic nerve, you merely see flashes of
  • light,--just as disease of the auditory nerve merely means a humming
  • in our ears. Plants do not feel pain, nor the lower animals;
  • it's possible that such animals as the starfish and crayfish do not
  • feel pain at all. Then with men, the more intelligent they become,
  • the more intelligently they will see after their own welfare,
  • and the less they will need the goad to keep them out of danger.
  • I never yet heard of a useless thing that was not ground out
  • of existence by evolution sooner or later. Did you? And pain
  • gets needless.
  • "Then I am a religious man, Prendick, as every sane man must be.
  • It may be, I fancy, that I have seen more of the ways of this world's
  • Maker than you,--for I have sought his laws, in _my_ way, all my life,
  • while you, I understand, have been collecting butterflies.
  • And I tell you, pleasure and pain have nothing to do with heaven or hell.
  • Pleasure and pain--bah! What is your theologian's ecstasy but
  • Mahomet's houri in the dark? This store which men and women set
  • on pleasure and pain, Prendick, is the mark of the beast upon
  • them,--the mark of the beast from which they came! Pain, pain and
  • pleasure, they are for us only so long as we wriggle in the dust.
  • "You see, I went on with this research just the way it led me.
  • That is the only way I ever heard of true research going.
  • I asked a question, devised some method of obtaining an answer,
  • and got a fresh question. Was this possible or that possible?
  • You cannot imagine what this means to an investigator,
  • what an intellectual passion grows upon him! You cannot imagine
  • the strange, colourless delight of these intellectual desires!
  • The thing before you is no longer an animal, a fellow-creature,
  • but a problem! Sympathetic pain,--all I know of it I remember
  • as a thing I used to suffer from years ago. I wanted--it was
  • the one thing I wanted--to find out the extreme limit of plasticity
  • in a living shape."
  • "But," said I, "the thing is an abomination--"
  • "To this day I have never troubled about the ethics of the matter,"
  • he continued. "The study of Nature makes a man at last as remorseless
  • as Nature. I have gone on, not heeding anything but the question I
  • was pursuing; and the material has--dripped into the huts yonder.
  • It is nearly eleven years since we came here, I and Montgomery
  • and six Kanakas. I remember the green stillness of the island
  • and the empty ocean about us, as though it was yesterday.
  • The place seemed waiting for me.
  • "The stores were landed and the house was built. The Kanakas founded
  • some huts near the ravine. I went to work here upon what I had brought
  • with me. There were some disagreeable things happened at first.
  • I began with a sheep, and killed it after a day and a half by a slip
  • of the scalpel. I took another sheep, and made a thing of pain and fear
  • and left it bound up to heal. It looked quite human to me when I
  • had finished it; but when I went to it I was discontented with it.
  • It remembered me, and was terrified beyond imagination; and it had no
  • more than the wits of a sheep. The more I looked at it the clumsier
  • it seemed, until at last I put the monster out of its misery.
  • These animals without courage, these fear-haunted, pain-driven things,
  • without a spark of pugnacious energy to face torment,--they are no good for
  • man-making.
  • "Then I took a gorilla I had; and upon that, working with infinite
  • care and mastering difficulty after difficulty, I made my first man.
  • All the week, night and day, I moulded him. With him it was chiefly
  • the brain that needed moulding; much had to be added, much changed.
  • I thought him a fair specimen of the negroid type when I had
  • finished him, and he lay bandaged, bound, and motionless before me.
  • It was only when his life was assured that I left him and came
  • into this room again, and found Montgomery much as you are.
  • He had heard some of the cries as the thing grew human,--cries
  • like those that disturbed _you_ so. I didn't take him
  • completely into my confidence at first. And the Kanakas too,
  • had realised something of it. They were scared out of their wits
  • by the sight of me. I got Montgomery over to me--in a way;
  • but I and he had the hardest job to prevent the Kanakas deserting.
  • Finally they did; and so we lost the yacht. I spent many days
  • educating the brute,--altogether I had him for three or four months.
  • I taught him the rudiments of English; gave him ideas of counting;
  • even made the thing read the alphabet. But at that he was slow,
  • though I've met with idiots slower. He began with a clean sheet,
  • mentally; had no memories left in his mind of what he had been.
  • When his scars were quite healed, and he was no longer anything
  • but painful and stiff, and able to converse a little, I took
  • him yonder and introduced him to the Kanakas as an interesting
  • stowaway.
  • "They were horribly afraid of him at first, somehow,--which offended
  • me rather, for I was conceited about him; but his ways seemed so mild,
  • and he was so abject, that after a time they received him and took his
  • education in hand. He was quick to learn, very imitative and adaptive,
  • and built himself a hovel rather better, it seemed to me, than their
  • own shanties. There was one among the boys a bit of a missionary,
  • and he taught the thing to read, or at least to pick out letters,
  • and gave him some rudimentary ideas of morality; but it seems
  • the beast's habits were not all that is desirable.
  • "I rested from work for some days after this, and was in a mind to
  • write an account of the whole affair to wake up English physiology.
  • Then I came upon the creature squatting up in a tree and gibbering
  • at two of the Kanakas who had been teasing him. I threatened him,
  • told him the inhumanity of such a proceeding, aroused his sense of shame,
  • and came home resolved to do better before I took my work back to England.
  • I have been doing better. But somehow the things drift back again:
  • the stubborn beast-flesh grows day by day back again.
  • But I mean to do better things still. I mean to conquer that.
  • This puma--
  • "But that's the story. All the Kanaka boys are dead now;
  • one fell overboard of the launch, and one died of a wounded
  • heel that he poisoned in some way with plant-juice. Three
  • went away in the yacht, and I suppose and hope were drowned.
  • The other one--was killed. Well, I have replaced them.
  • Montgomery went on much as you are disposed to do at first,
  • and then--
  • "What became of the other one?" said I, sharply,--"the other Kanaka
  • who was killed?"
  • "The fact is, after I had made a number of human creatures I made
  • a Thing--" He hesitated.
  • "Yes?" said I.
  • "It was killed."
  • "I don't understand," said I; "do you mean to say--"
  • "It killed the Kanaka--yes. It killed several other things that
  • it caught. We chased it for a couple of days. It only got loose
  • by accident--I never meant it to get away. It wasn't finished.
  • It was purely an experiment. It was a limbless thing, with a
  • horrible face, that writhed along the ground in a serpentine fashion.
  • It was immensely strong, and in infuriating pain. It lurked in
  • the woods for some days, until we hunted it; and then it wriggled
  • into the northern part of the island, and we divided the party
  • to close in upon it. Montgomery insisted upon coming with me.
  • The man had a rifle; and when his body was found, one of the barrels
  • was curved into the shape of an S and very nearly bitten through.
  • Montgomery shot the thing. After that I stuck to the ideal of
  • humanity--except for little things."
  • He became silent. I sat in silence watching his face.
  • "So for twenty years altogether--counting nine years in England--I
  • have been going on; and there is still something in everything I do
  • that defeats me, makes me dissatisfied, challenges me to further effort.
  • Sometimes I rise above my level, sometimes I fall below it; but always
  • I fall short of the things I dream. The human shape I can get now,
  • almost with ease, so that it is lithe and graceful, or thick and strong;
  • but often there is trouble with the hands and the claws,--painful things,
  • that I dare not shape too freely. But it is in the subtle grafting
  • and reshaping one must needs do to the brain that my trouble lies.
  • The intelligence is often oddly low, with unaccountable blank ends,
  • unexpected gaps. And least satisfactory of all is something that I
  • cannot touch, somewhere--I cannot determine where--in the seat
  • of the emotions. Cravings, instincts, desires that harm humanity,
  • a strange hidden reservoir to burst forth suddenly and inundate
  • the whole being of the creature with anger, hate, or fear.
  • These creatures of mine seemed strange and uncanny to you so soon
  • as you began to observe them; but to me, just after I make them,
  • they seem to be indisputably human beings. It's afterwards, as I
  • observe them, that the persuasion fades. First one animal trait,
  • then another, creeps to the surface and stares out at me.
  • But I will conquer yet! Each time I dip a living creature into the bath
  • of burning pain, I say, 'This time I will burn out all the animal;
  • this time I will make a rational creature of my own!' After all,
  • what is ten years? Men have been a hundred thousand in the making."
  • He thought darkly. "But I am drawing near the fastness.
  • This puma of mine--" After a silence, "And they revert.
  • As soon as my hand is taken from them the beast begins
  • to creep back, begins to assert itself again." Another long
  • silence.
  • "Then you take the things you make into those dens?" said I.
  • "They go. I turn them out when I begin to feel the beast in them,
  • and presently they wander there. They all dread this house and me.
  • There is a kind of travesty of humanity over there. Montgomery knows
  • about it, for he interferes in their affairs. He has trained one
  • or two of them to our service. He's ashamed of it, but I believe
  • he half likes some of those beasts. It's his business, not mine.
  • They only sicken me with a sense of failure. I take no interest in them.
  • I fancy they follow in the lines the Kanaka missionary marked out,
  • and have a kind of mockery of a rational life, poor beasts!
  • There's something they call the Law. Sing hymns about 'all thine.'
  • They build themselves their dens, gather fruit, and pull herbs--marry
  • even. But I can see through it all, see into their very souls,
  • and see there nothing but the souls of beasts, beasts that perish,
  • anger and the lusts to live and gratify themselves.--Yet they're odd;
  • complex, like everything else alive. There is a kind of upward
  • striving in them, part vanity, part waste sexual emotion,
  • part waste curiosity. It only mocks me. I have some hope of this puma.
  • I have worked hard at her head and brain--
  • "And now," said he, standing up after a long gap of silence, during
  • which we had each pursued our own thoughts, "what do you think? Are
  • you in fear of me still?"
  • I looked at him, and saw but a white-faced, white-haired man,
  • with calm eyes. Save for his serenity, the touch almost of beauty that
  • resulted from his set tranquillity and his magnificent build, he might
  • have passed muster among a hundred other comfortable old gentlemen.
  • Then I shivered. By way of answer to his second question, I handed
  • him a revolver with either hand.
  • "Keep them," he said, and snatched at a yawn. He stood up, stared at
  • me for a moment, and smiled. "You have had two eventful days,"
  • said he. "I should advise some sleep. I'm glad it's all clear.
  • Good-night." He thought me over for a moment, then went out by
  • the inner door.
  • I immediately turned the key in the outer one. I sat down again;
  • sat for a time in a kind of stagnant mood, so weary, emotionally,
  • mentally, and physically, that I could not think beyond the point
  • at which he had left me. The black window stared at me like an eye.
  • At last with an effort I put out the light and got into the hammock.
  • Very soon I was asleep.
  • XV. CONCERNING THE BEAST FOLK.
  • I WOKE early. Moreau's explanation stood before my mind,
  • clear and definite, from the moment of my awakening. I got out
  • of the hammock and went to the door to assure myself that the key
  • was turned. Then I tried the window-bar, and found it firmly fixed.
  • That these man-like creatures were in truth only bestial monsters,
  • mere grotesque travesties of men, filled me with a vague uncertainty
  • of their possibilities which was far worse than any definite fear.
  • A tapping came at the door, and I heard the glutinous accents
  • of M'ling speaking. I pocketed one of the revolvers (keeping one
  • hand upon it), and opened to him.
  • "Good-morning, sair," he said, bringing in, in addition to the customary
  • herb-breakfast, an ill-cooked rabbit. Montgomery followed him.
  • His roving eye caught the position of my arm and he smiled askew.
  • The puma was resting to heal that day; but Moreau, who was singularly
  • solitary in his habits, did not join us. I talked with Montgomery
  • to clear my ideas of the way in which the Beast Folk lived.
  • In particular, I was urgent to know how these inhuman monsters were kept
  • from falling upon Moreau and Montgomery and from rending one another.
  • He explained to me that the comparative safety of Moreau and
  • himself was due to the limited mental scope of these monsters.
  • In spite of their increased intelligence and the tendency of their
  • animal instincts to reawaken, they had certain fixed ideas implanted
  • by Moreau in their minds, which absolutely bounded their imaginations.
  • They were really hypnotised; had been told that certain things
  • were impossible, and that certain things were not to be done,
  • and these prohibitions were woven into the texture of their minds beyond
  • any possibility of disobedience or dispute.
  • Certain matters, however, in which old instinct was at war
  • with Moreau's convenience, were in a less stable condition.
  • A series of propositions called the Law (I had already heard them recited)
  • battled in their minds with the deep-seated, ever-rebellious cravings
  • of their animal natures. This Law they were ever repeating,
  • I found, and ever breaking. Both Montgomery and Moreau displayed
  • particular solicitude to keep them ignorant of the taste of blood;
  • they feared the inevitable suggestions of that flavour.
  • Montgomery told me that the Law, especially among the feline Beast People,
  • became oddly weakened about nightfall; that then the animal was at
  • its strongest; that a spirit of adventure sprang up in them at the dusk,
  • when they would dare things they never seemed to dream about by day.
  • To that I owed my stalking by the Leopard-man, on the night of my arrival.
  • But during these earlier days of my stay they broke the Law only
  • furtively and after dark; in the daylight there was a general
  • atmosphere of respect for its multifarious prohibitions.
  • And here perhaps I may give a few general facts about the island
  • and the Beast People. The island, which was of irregular outline
  • and lay low upon the wide sea, had a total area, I suppose,
  • of seven or eight square miles.{2} It was volcanic in origin,
  • and was now fringed on three sides by coral reefs; some fumaroles
  • to the northward, and a hot spring, were the only vestiges of
  • the forces that had long since originated it. Now and then a faint
  • quiver of earthquake would be sensible, and sometimes the ascent
  • of the spire of smoke would be rendered tumultuous by gusts of steam;
  • but that was all. The population of the island, Montgomery informed me,
  • now numbered rather more than sixty of these strange creations
  • of Moreau's art, not counting the smaller monstrosities
  • which lived in the undergrowth and were without human form.
  • Altogether he had made nearly a hundred and twenty; but many had died,
  • and others--like the writhing Footless Thing of which he had told
  • me--had come by violent ends. In answer to my question, Montgomery
  • said that they actually bore offspring, but that these generally died.
  • When they lived, Moreau took them and stamped the human form upon them.
  • There was no evidence of the inheritance of their acquired
  • human characteristics. The females were less numerous than the males,
  • and liable to much furtive persecution in spite of the monogamy the
  • Law enjoined.
  • {2} This description corresponds in every respect to Noble's Isle.
  • -- C. E. P.
  • It would be impossible for me to describe these Beast People in detail;
  • my eye has had no training in details, and unhappily I cannot sketch.
  • Most striking, perhaps, in their general appearance was the
  • disproportion between the legs of these creatures and the length
  • of their bodies; and yet--so relative is our idea of grace--my
  • eye became habituated to their forms, and at last I even fell
  • in with their persuasion that my own long thighs were ungainly.
  • Another point was the forward carriage of the head and the clumsy
  • and inhuman curvature of the spine. Even the Ape-man lacked
  • that inward sinuous curve of the back which makes the human
  • figure so graceful. Most had their shoulders hunched clumsily,
  • and their short forearms hung weakly at their sides. Few of them
  • were conspicuously hairy, at least until the end of my time upon
  • the island.
  • The next most obvious deformity was in their faces,
  • almost all of which were prognathous, malformed about the ears,
  • with large and protuberant noses, very furry or very bristly hair,
  • and often strangely-coloured or strangely-placed eyes.
  • None could laugh, though the Ape-man had a chattering titter.
  • Beyond these general characters their heads had little in common;
  • each preserved the quality of its particular species:
  • the human mark distorted but did not hide the leopard, the ox,
  • or the sow, or other animal or animals, from which the creature
  • had been moulded. The voices, too, varied exceedingly.
  • The hands were always malformed; and though some surprised me by their
  • unexpected human appearance, almost all were deficient in the number
  • of the digits, clumsy about the finger-nails, and lacking any
  • tactile sensibility.
  • The two most formidable Animal Men were my Leopard-man and a creature
  • made of hyena and swine. Larger than these were the three bull-creatures
  • who pulled in the boat. Then came the silvery-hairy-man, who was also
  • the Sayer of the Law, M'ling, and a satyr-like creature of ape and goat.
  • There were three Swine-men and a Swine-woman, a mare-rhinoceros-creature,
  • and several other females whose sources I did not ascertain.
  • There were several wolf-creatures, a bear-bull, and a Saint-Bernard-man. I
  • have already described the Ape-man, and there was a particularly hateful
  • (and evil-smelling) old woman made of vixen and bear, whom I hated
  • from the beginning. She was said to be a passionate votary of the Law.
  • Smaller creatures were certain dappled youths and my little
  • sloth-creature. But enough of this catalogue.
  • At first I had a shivering horror of the brutes, felt all too keenly
  • that they were still brutes; but insensibly I became a little
  • habituated to the idea of them, and moreover I was affected by
  • Montgomery's attitude towards them. He had been with them so long
  • that he had come to regard them as almost normal human beings.
  • His London days seemed a glorious, impossible past to him.
  • Only once in a year or so did he go to Arica to deal with
  • Moreau's agent, a trader in animals there. He hardly met the finest
  • type of mankind in that seafaring village of Spanish mongrels.
  • The men aboard-ship, he told me, seemed at first just as strange
  • to him as the Beast Men seemed to me,--unnaturally long in the leg,
  • flat in the face, prominent in the forehead, suspicious, dangerous,
  • and cold-hearted. In fact, he did not like men: his heart
  • had warmed to me, he thought, because he had saved my life.
  • I fancied even then that he had a sneaking kindness for some of these
  • metamorphosed brutes, a vicious sympathy with some of their ways,
  • but that he attempted to veil it from me at first.
  • M'ling, the black-faced man, Montgomery's attendant, the first of
  • the Beast Folk I had encountered, did not live with the others across
  • the island, but in a small kennel at the back of the enclosure.
  • The creature was scarcely so intelligent as the Ape-man, but far
  • more docile, and the most human-looking of all the Beast Folk;
  • and Montgomery had trained it to prepare food, and indeed to
  • discharge all the trivial domestic offices that were required.
  • It was a complex trophy of Moreau's horrible skill,--a bear, tainted with
  • dog and ox, and one of the most elaborately made of all his creatures.
  • It treated Montgomery with a strange tenderness and devotion.
  • Sometimes he would notice it, pat it, call it half-mocking, half-jocular
  • names, and so make it caper with extraordinary delight; sometimes he
  • would ill-treat it, especially after he had been at the whiskey,
  • kicking it, beating it, pelting it with stones or lighted fusees.
  • But whether he treated it well or ill, it loved nothing so much as to be
  • near him.
  • I say I became habituated to the Beast People, that a thousand
  • things which had seemed unnatural and repulsive speedily became
  • natural and ordinary to me. I suppose everything in existence
  • takes its colour from the average hue of our surroundings.
  • Montgomery and Moreau were too peculiar and individual
  • to keep my general impressions of humanity well defined.
  • I would see one of the clumsy bovine-creatures who worked the launch
  • treading heavily through the undergrowth, and find myself asking,
  • trying hard to recall, how he differed from some really human
  • yokel trudging home from his mechanical labours; or I would meet
  • the Fox-bear woman's vulpine, shifty face, strangely human in its
  • speculative cunning, and even imagine I had met it before in some
  • city byway.
  • Yet every now and then the beast would flash out upon me beyond
  • doubt or denial. An ugly-looking man, a hunch-backed human savage
  • to all appearance, squatting in the aperture of one of the dens,
  • would stretch his arms and yawn, showing with startling suddenness
  • scissor-edged incisors and sabre-like canines, keen and brilliant
  • as knives. Or in some narrow pathway, glancing with a transitory
  • daring into the eyes of some lithe, white-swathed female figure,
  • I would suddenly see (with a spasmodic revulsion) that she had
  • slit-like pupils, or glancing down note the curving nail with which
  • she held her shapeless wrap about her. It is a curious thing, by
  • the bye, for which I am quite unable to account, that these weird
  • creatures--the females, I mean--had in the earlier days of my stay an
  • instinctive sense of their own repulsive clumsiness, and displayed
  • in consequence a more than human regard for the decency and decorum
  • of extensive costume.
  • XVI. HOW THE BEAST FOLK TASTE BLOOD.
  • MY inexperience as a writer betrays me, and I wander from the thread
  • of my story.
  • After I had breakfasted with Montgomery, he took me across
  • the island to see the fumarole and the source of the hot spring
  • into whose scalding waters I had blundered on the previous day.
  • Both of us carried whips and loaded revolvers. While going through
  • a leafy jungle on our road thither, we heard a rabbit squealing.
  • We stopped and listened, but we heard no more; and presently we
  • went on our way, and the incident dropped out of our minds.
  • Montgomery called my attention to certain little pink animals
  • with long hind-legs, that went leaping through the undergrowth.
  • He told me they were creatures made of the offspring of the Beast People,
  • that Moreau had invented. He had fancied they might serve for meat,
  • but a rabbit-like habit of devouring their young had defeated
  • this intention. I had already encountered some of these
  • creatures,--once during my moonlight flight from the Leopard-man,
  • and once during my pursuit by Moreau on the previous day.
  • By chance, one hopping to avoid us leapt into the hole caused
  • by the uprooting of a wind-blown tree; before it could extricate
  • itself we managed to catch it. It spat like a cat, scratched and
  • kicked vigorously with its hind-legs, and made an attempt to bite;
  • but its teeth were too feeble to inflict more than a painless pinch.
  • It seemed to me rather a pretty little creature; and as Montgomery stated
  • that it never destroyed the turf by burrowing, and was very cleanly
  • in its habits, I should imagine it might prove a convenient substitute
  • for the common rabbit in gentlemen's parks.
  • We also saw on our way the trunk of a tree barked in long strips
  • and splintered deeply. Montgomery called my attention to this.
  • "Not to claw bark of trees, _that_ is the Law," he said.
  • "Much some of them care for it!" It was after this, I think, that we
  • met the Satyr and the Ape-man. The Satyr was a gleam of classical memory
  • on the part of Moreau,--his face ovine in expression, like the coarser
  • Hebrew type; his voice a harsh bleat, his nether extremities Satanic.
  • He was gnawing the husk of a pod-like fruit as he passed us.
  • Both of them saluted Montgomery.
  • "Hail," said they, "to the Other with the Whip!"
  • "There's a Third with a Whip now," said Montgomery. "So you'd
  • better mind!"
  • "Was he not made?" said the Ape-man. "He said--he said he was made."
  • The Satyr-man looked curiously at me. "The Third with the Whip,
  • he that walks weeping into the sea, has a thin white face."
  • "He has a thin long whip," said Montgomery.
  • "Yesterday he bled and wept," said the Satyr. "You never bleed nor weep.
  • The Master does not bleed or weep."
  • "Ollendorffian beggar!" said Montgomery, "you'll bleed and weep
  • if you don't look out!"
  • "He has five fingers, he is a five-man like me," said the Ape-man.
  • "Come along, Prendick," said Montgomery, taking my arm; and I went
  • on with him.
  • The Satyr and the Ape-man stood watching us and making other remarks
  • to each other.
  • "He says nothing," said the Satyr. "Men have voices."
  • "Yesterday he asked me of things to eat," said the Ape-man. "He
  • did not know."
  • Then they spoke inaudible things, and I heard the Satyr laughing.
  • It was on our way back that we came upon the dead rabbit.
  • The red body of the wretched little beast was rent to pieces, many of
  • the ribs stripped white, and the backbone indisputably gnawed.
  • At that Montgomery stopped. "Good God!" said he, stooping down,
  • and picking up some of the crushed vertebrae to examine them more closely.
  • "Good God!" he repeated, "what can this mean?"
  • "Some carnivore of yours has remembered its old habits,"
  • I said after a pause. "This backbone has been bitten through."
  • He stood staring, with his face white and his lip pulled askew.
  • "I don't like this," he said slowly.
  • "I saw something of the same kind," said I, "the first day I came here."
  • "The devil you did! What was it?"
  • "A rabbit with its head twisted off."
  • "The day you came here?"
  • "The day I came here. In the undergrowth at the back of the enclosure,
  • when I went out in the evening. The head was completely wrung off."
  • He gave a long, low whistle.
  • "And what is more, I have an idea which of your brutes did the thing.
  • It's only a suspicion, you know. Before I came on the rabbit I saw one
  • of your monsters drinking in the stream."
  • "Sucking his drink?"
  • "Yes."
  • "'Not to suck your drink; that is the Law.' Much the brutes care
  • for the Law, eh? when Moreau's not about!"
  • "It was the brute who chased me."
  • "Of course," said Montgomery; "it's just the way with carnivores.
  • After a kill, they drink. It's the taste of blood, you know.--What
  • was the brute like?" he continued. "Would you know him again?"
  • He glanced about us, standing astride over the mess of dead rabbit,
  • his eyes roving among the shadows and screens of greenery,
  • the lurking-places and ambuscades of the forest that bounded us in.
  • "The taste of blood," he said again.
  • He took out his revolver, examined the cartridges in it and replaced it.
  • Then he began to pull at his dropping lip.
  • "I think I should know the brute again," I said. "I stunned him.
  • He ought to have a handsome bruise on the forehead of him."
  • "But then we have to _prove_ that he killed the rabbit," said
  • Montgomery. "I wish I'd never brought the things here."
  • I should have gone on, but he stayed there thinking over the mangled
  • rabbit in a puzzle-headed way. As it was, I went to such a distance
  • that the rabbit's remains were hidden.
  • "Come on!" I said.
  • Presently he woke up and came towards me. "You see," he said,
  • almost in a whisper, "they are all supposed to have a fixed idea
  • against eating anything that runs on land. If some brute has
  • by any accident tasted blood--"
  • We went on some way in silence. "I wonder what can have happened,"
  • he said to himself. Then, after a pause again: "I did a foolish
  • thing the other day. That servant of mine--I showed him how to skin
  • and cook a rabbit. It's odd--I saw him licking his hands--It never
  • occurred to me."
  • Then: "We must put a stop to this. I must tell Moreau."
  • He could think of nothing else on our homeward journey.
  • Moreau took the matter even more seriously than Montgomery, and I
  • need scarcely say that I was affected by their evident consternation.
  • "We must make an example," said Moreau. "I've no doubt in my own
  • mind that the Leopard-man was the sinner. But how can we prove it?
  • I wish, Montgomery, you had kept your taste for meat in hand, and gone
  • without these exciting novelties. We may find ourselves in a mess yet,
  • through it."
  • "I was a silly ass," said Montgomery. "But the thing's done now;
  • and you said I might have them, you know."
  • "We must see to the thing at once," said Moreau. "I suppose
  • if anything should turn up, M'ling can take care of himself?"
  • "I'm not so sure of M'ling," said Montgomery. "I think I ought
  • to know him."
  • In the afternoon, Moreau, Montgomery, myself, and M'ling went
  • across the island to the huts in the ravine. We three were armed;
  • M'ling carried the little hatchet he used in chopping firewood,
  • and some coils of wire. Moreau had a huge cowherd's horn slung over
  • his shoulder.
  • "You will see a gathering of the Beast People," said Montgomery.
  • "It is a pretty sight!"
  • Moreau said not a word on the way, but the expression of his heavy,
  • white-fringed face was grimly set.
  • We crossed the ravine down which smoked the stream of hot water,
  • and followed the winding pathway through the canebrakes
  • until we reached a wide area covered over with a thick,
  • powdery yellow substance which I believe was sulphur.
  • Above the shoulder of a weedy bank the sea glittered. We came to a kind
  • of shallow natural amphitheatre, and here the four of us halted.
  • Then Moreau sounded the horn, and broke the sleeping stillness
  • of the tropical afternoon. He must have had strong lungs.
  • The hooting note rose and rose amidst its echoes, to at last an
  • ear-penetrating intensity.
  • "Ah!" said Moreau, letting the curved instrument fall to his side again.
  • Immediately there was a crashing through the yellow canes,
  • and a sound of voices from the dense green jungle that marked
  • the morass through which I had run on the previous day.
  • Then at three or four points on the edge of the sulphurous area
  • appeared the grotesque forms of the Beast People hurrying towards us.
  • I could not help a creeping horror, as I perceived first one and then
  • another trot out from the trees or reeds and come shambling along
  • over the hot dust. But Moreau and Montgomery stood calmly enough;
  • and, perforce, I stuck beside them.
  • First to arrive was the Satyr, strangely unreal for all that he cast
  • a shadow and tossed the dust with his hoofs. After him from
  • the brake came a monstrous lout, a thing of horse and rhinoceros,
  • chewing a straw as it came; then appeared the Swine-woman
  • and two Wolf-women; then the Fox-bear witch, with her red eyes
  • in her peaked red face, and then others,--all hurrying eagerly.
  • As they came forward they began to cringe towards Moreau and chant,
  • quite regardless of one another, fragments of the latter half
  • of the litany of the Law,--"His is the Hand that wounds;
  • His is the Hand that heals," and so forth. As soon as they had
  • approached within a distance of perhaps thirty yards they halted,
  • and bowing on knees and elbows began flinging the white dust upon
  • their heads.
  • Imagine the scene if you can! We three blue-clad men, with our
  • misshapen black-faced attendant, standing in a wide expanse
  • of sunlit yellow dust under the blazing blue sky, and surrounded
  • by this circle of crouching and gesticulating monstrosities,--some
  • almost human save in their subtle expression and gestures,
  • some like cripples, some so strangely distorted as to resemble nothing
  • but the denizens of our wildest dreams; and, beyond, the reedy
  • lines of a canebrake in one direction, a dense tangle of palm-trees
  • on the other, separating us from the ravine with the huts,
  • and to the north the hazy horizon of the Pacific Ocean.
  • "Sixty-two, sixty-three," counted Moreau. "There are four more."
  • "I do not see the Leopard-man," said I.
  • Presently Moreau sounded the great horn again, and at the sound
  • of it all the Beast People writhed and grovelled in the dust.
  • Then, slinking out of the canebrake, stooping near the ground
  • and trying to join the dust-throwing circle behind Moreau's back,
  • came the Leopard-man. The last of the Beast People to arrive was the little
  • Ape-man. The earlier animals, hot and weary with their grovelling,
  • shot vicious glances at him.
  • "Cease!" said Moreau, in his firm, loud voice; and the Beast People
  • sat back upon their hams and rested from their worshipping.
  • "Where is the Sayer of the Law?" said Moreau, and the hairy-grey
  • monster bowed his face in the dust.
  • "Say the words!" said Moreau.
  • Forthwith all in the kneeling assembly, swaying from side to side
  • and dashing up the sulphur with their hands,--first the right hand
  • and a puff of dust, and then the left,--began once more to chant
  • their strange litany. When they reached, "Not to eat Flesh or Fish,
  • that is the Law," Moreau held up his lank white hand.
  • "Stop!" he cried, and there fell absolute silence upon them all.
  • I think they all knew and dreaded what was coming.
  • I looked round at their strange faces. When I saw their wincing
  • attitudes and the furtive dread in their bright eyes, I wondered
  • that I had ever believed them to be men.
  • "That Law has been broken!" said Moreau.
  • "None escape," from the faceless creature with the silvery hair.
  • "None escape," repeated the kneeling circle of Beast People.
  • "Who is he?" cried Moreau, and looked round at their faces,
  • cracking his whip. I fancied the Hyena-swine looked dejected,
  • so too did the Leopard-man. Moreau stopped, facing this creature,
  • who cringed towards him with the memory and dread of infinite torment.
  • "Who is he?" repeated Moreau, in a voice of thunder.
  • "Evil is he who breaks the Law," chanted the Sayer of the Law.
  • Moreau looked into the eyes of the Leopard-man, and seemed to be
  • dragging the very soul out of the creature.
  • "Who breaks the Law--" said Moreau, taking his eyes off his victim,
  • and turning towards us (it seemed to me there was a touch of exultation
  • in his voice).
  • "Goes back to the House of Pain," they all clamoured,--"goes back
  • to the House of Pain, O Master!"
  • "Back to the House of Pain,--back to the House of Pain,"
  • gabbled the Ape-man, as though the idea was sweet to him.
  • "Do you hear?" said Moreau, turning back to the criminal,
  • "my friend--Hullo!"
  • For the Leopard-man, released from Moreau's eye, had risen straight
  • from his knees, and now, with eyes aflame and his huge feline tusks
  • flashing out from under his curling lips, leapt towards his tormentor.
  • I am convinced that only the madness of unendurable fear could have
  • prompted this attack. The whole circle of threescore monsters seemed
  • to rise about us. I drew my revolver. The two figures collided.
  • I saw Moreau reeling back from the Leopard-man's blow. There was a
  • furious yelling and howling all about us. Every one was moving rapidly.
  • For a moment I thought it was a general revolt. The furious face
  • of the Leopard-man flashed by mine, with M'ling close in pursuit.
  • I saw the yellow eyes of the Hyena-swine blazing with excitement,
  • his attitude as if he were half resolved to attack me.
  • The Satyr, too, glared at me over the Hyena-swine's hunched shoulders.
  • I heard the crack of Moreau's pistol, and saw the pink flash
  • dart across the tumult. The whole crowd seemed to swing round
  • in the direction of the glint of fire, and I too was swung round
  • by the magnetism of the movement. In another second I was running,
  • one of a tumultuous shouting crowd, in pursuit of the escaping
  • Leopard-man.
  • That is all I can tell definitely. I saw the Leopard-man strike Moreau,
  • and then everything spun about me until I was running headlong.
  • M'ling was ahead, close in pursuit of the fugitive. Behind, their tongues
  • already lolling out, ran the Wolf-women in great leaping strides.
  • The Swine folk followed, squealing with excitement, and the two
  • Bull-men in their swathings of white. Then came Moreau in a
  • cluster of the Beast People, his wide-brimmed straw hat blown off,
  • his revolver in hand, and his lank white hair streaming out.
  • The Hyena-swine ran beside me, keeping pace with me and glancing furtively
  • at me out of his feline eyes, and the others came pattering and shouting
  • behind us.
  • The Leopard-man went bursting his way through the long canes,
  • which sprang back as he passed, and rattled in M'ling's face.
  • We others in the rear found a trampled path for us when we reached
  • the brake. The chase lay through the brake for perhaps a quarter
  • of a mile, and then plunged into a dense thicket, which retarded
  • our movements exceedingly, though we went through it in a crowd
  • together,--fronds flicking into our faces, ropy creepers catching
  • us under the chin or gripping our ankles, thorny plants hooking into
  • and tearing cloth and flesh together.
  • "He has gone on all-fours through this," panted Moreau, now just
  • ahead of me.
  • "None escape," said the Wolf-bear, laughing into my face with
  • the exultation of hunting. We burst out again among rocks,
  • and saw the quarry ahead running lightly on all-fours and snarling
  • at us over his shoulder. At that the Wolf Folk howled with delight.
  • The Thing was still clothed, and at a distance its face still seemed human;
  • but the carriage of its four limbs was feline, and the furtive
  • droop of its shoulder was distinctly that of a hunted animal.
  • It leapt over some thorny yellow-flowering bushes, and was hidden.
  • M'ling was halfway across the space.
  • Most of us now had lost the first speed of the chase, and had fallen
  • into a longer and steadier stride. I saw as we traversed the open
  • that the pursuit was now spreading from a column into a line.
  • The Hyena-swine still ran close to me, watching me as it ran,
  • every now and then puckering its muzzle with a snarling laugh.
  • At the edge of the rocks the Leopard-man, realising that he was
  • making for the projecting cape upon which he had stalked me
  • on the night of my arrival, had doubled in the undergrowth;
  • but Montgomery had seen the manoeuvre, and turned him again.
  • So, panting, tumbling against rocks, torn by brambles, impeded by
  • ferns and reeds, I helped to pursue the Leopard-man who had broken
  • the Law, and the Hyena-swine ran, laughing savagely, by my side.
  • I staggered on, my head reeling and my heart beating against my ribs,
  • tired almost to death, and yet not daring to lose sight of the chase
  • lest I should be left alone with this horrible companion.
  • I staggered on in spite of infinite fatigue and the dense heat of the
  • tropical afternoon.
  • At last the fury of the hunt slackened. We had pinned the wretched
  • brute into a corner of the island. Moreau, whip in hand, marshalled us
  • all into an irregular line, and we advanced now slowly, shouting to one
  • another as we advanced and tightening the cordon about our victim.
  • He lurked noiseless and invisible in the bushes through which I
  • had run from him during that midnight pursuit.
  • "Steady!" cried Moreau, "steady!" as the ends of the line crept
  • round the tangle of undergrowth and hemmed the brute in.
  • "Ware a rush!" came the voice of Montgomery from beyond the thicket.
  • I was on the slope above the bushes; Montgomery and Moreau beat
  • along the beach beneath. Slowly we pushed in among the fretted
  • network of branches and leaves. The quarry was silent.
  • "Back to the House of Pain, the House of Pain, the House of Pain!"
  • yelped the voice of the Ape-man, some twenty yards to the right.
  • When I heard that, I forgave the poor wretch all the fear he had
  • inspired in me. I heard the twigs snap and the boughs swish aside
  • before the heavy tread of the Horse-rhinoceros upon my right.
  • Then suddenly through a polygon of green, in the half darkness
  • under the luxuriant growth, I saw the creature we were hunting.
  • I halted. He was crouched together into the smallest possible compass,
  • his luminous green eyes turned over his shoulder regarding me.
  • It may seem a strange contradiction in me,--I cannot explain the
  • fact,--but now, seeing the creature there in a perfectly animal
  • attitude, with the light gleaming in its eyes and its imperfectly
  • human face distorted with terror, I realised again the fact of its
  • humanity. In another moment other of its pursuers would see it,
  • and it would be overpowered and captured, to experience once more
  • the horrible tortures of the enclosure. Abruptly I slipped out
  • my revolver, aimed between its terror-struck eyes, and fired.
  • As I did so, the Hyena-swine saw the Thing, and flung itself upon
  • it with an eager cry, thrusting thirsty teeth into its neck.
  • All about me the green masses of the thicket were swaying and cracking
  • as the Beast People came rushing together. One face and then
  • another appeared.
  • "Don't kill it, Prendick!" cried Moreau. "Don't kill it!"
  • and I saw him stooping as he pushed through under the fronds
  • of the big ferns.
  • In another moment he had beaten off the Hyena-swine with the handle of
  • his whip, and he and Montgomery were keeping away the excited carnivorous
  • Beast People, and particularly M'ling, from the still quivering body.
  • The hairy-grey Thing came sniffing at the corpse under my arm.
  • The other animals, in their animal ardour, jostled me to get a
  • nearer view.
  • "Confound you, Prendick!" said Moreau. "I wanted him."
  • "I'm sorry," said I, though I was not. "It was the impulse
  • of the moment." I felt sick with exertion and excitement.
  • Turning, I pushed my way out of the crowding Beast People and went
  • on alone up the slope towards the higher part of the headland.
  • Under the shouted directions of Moreau I heard the three white-swathed
  • Bull-men begin dragging the victim down towards the water.
  • It was easy now for me to be alone. The Beast People manifested a quite
  • human curiosity about the dead body, and followed it in a thick knot,
  • sniffing and growling at it as the Bull-men dragged it down the beach.
  • I went to the headland and watched the bull-men, black against
  • the evening sky as they carried the weighted dead body out to sea;
  • and like a wave across my mind came the realisation of the unspeakable
  • aimlessness of things upon the island. Upon the beach among
  • the rocks beneath me were the Ape-man, the Hyena-swine, and several
  • other of the Beast People, standing about Montgomery and Moreau.
  • They were all still intensely excited, and all overflowing with noisy
  • expressions of their loyalty to the Law; yet I felt an absolute
  • assurance in my own mind that the Hyena-swine was implicated
  • in the rabbit-killing. A strange persuasion came upon me, that,
  • save for the grossness of the line, the grotesqueness of the forms,
  • I had here before me the whole balance of human life in miniature,
  • the whole interplay of instinct, reason, and fate in its simplest form.
  • The Leopard-man had happened to go under: that was all the difference.
  • Poor brute!
  • Poor brutes! I began to see the viler aspect of Moreau's cruelty.
  • I had not thought before of the pain and trouble that came
  • to these poor victims after they had passed from Moreau's hands.
  • I had shivered only at the days of actual torment in the enclosure.
  • But now that seemed to me the lesser part. Before, they had
  • been beasts, their instincts fitly adapted to their surroundings,
  • and happy as living things may be. Now they stumbled in the shackles
  • of humanity, lived in a fear that never died, fretted by a law they
  • could not understand; their mock-human existence, begun in an agony,
  • was one long internal struggle, one long dread of Moreau--and for what?
  • It was the wantonness of it that stirred me.
  • Had Moreau had any intelligible object, I could have sympathised at
  • least a little with him. I am not so squeamish about pain as that.
  • I could have forgiven him a little even, had his motive been only hate.
  • But he was so irresponsible, so utterly careless! His curiosity,
  • his mad, aimless investigations, drove him on; and the Things were
  • thrown out to live a year or so, to struggle and blunder and suffer,
  • and at last to die painfully. They were wretched in themselves;
  • the old animal hate moved them to trouble one another; the Law held
  • them back from a brief hot struggle and a decisive end to their
  • natural animosities.
  • In those days my fear of the Beast People went the way of my personal
  • fear for Moreau. I fell indeed into a morbid state, deep and enduring,
  • and alien to fear, which has left permanent scars upon my mind.
  • I must confess that I lost faith in the sanity of the world
  • when I saw it suffering the painful disorder of this island.
  • A blind Fate, a vast pitiless mechanism, seemed to cut and
  • shape the fabric of existence and I, Moreau (by his passion
  • for research), Montgomery (by his passion for drink), the Beast
  • People with their instincts and mental restrictions, were torn
  • and crushed, ruthlessly, inevitably, amid the infinite complexity
  • of its incessant wheels. But this condition did not come all at once:
  • I think indeed that I anticipate a little in speaking of
  • it now.
  • XVII. A CATASTROPHE.
  • SCARCELY six weeks passed before I had lost every feeling but
  • dislike and abhorrence for this infamous experiment of Moreau's.
  • My one idea was to get away from these horrible caricatures of my
  • Maker's image, back to the sweet and wholesome intercourse of men.
  • My fellow-creatures, from whom I was thus separated, began to assume
  • idyllic virtue and beauty in my memory. My first friendship with
  • Montgomery did not increase. His long separation from humanity,
  • his secret vice of drunkenness, his evident sympathy with the Beast People,
  • tainted him to me. Several times I let him go alone among them.
  • I avoided intercourse with them in every possible way.
  • I spent an increasing proportion of my time upon the beach,
  • looking for some liberating sail that never appeared,--until one day
  • there fell upon us an appalling disaster, which put an altogether
  • different aspect upon my strange surroundings.
  • It was about seven or eight weeks after my landing,--rather more,
  • I think, though I had not troubled to keep account of the time,--when
  • this catastrophe occurred. It happened in the early morning--I
  • should think about six. I had risen and breakfasted early, having
  • been aroused by the noise of three Beast Men carrying wood into the
  • enclosure.
  • After breakfast I went to the open gateway of the enclosure,
  • and stood there smoking a cigarette and enjoying the freshness
  • of the early morning. Moreau presently came round the corner
  • of the enclosure and greeted me. He passed by me, and I heard him
  • behind me unlock and enter his laboratory. So indurated was I
  • at that time to the abomination of the place, that I heard without
  • a touch of emotion the puma victim begin another day of torture.
  • It met its persecutor with a shriek, almost exactly like that of an
  • angry virago.
  • Then suddenly something happened,--I do not know what,
  • to this day. I heard a short, sharp cry behind me, a fall,
  • and turning saw an awful face rushing upon me,--not human,
  • not animal, but hellish, brown, seamed with red branching scars,
  • red drops starting out upon it, and the lidless eyes ablaze.
  • I threw up my arm to defend myself from the blow that flung
  • me headlong with a broken forearm; and the great monster,
  • swathed in lint and with red-stained bandages fluttering about it,
  • leapt over me and passed. I rolled over and over down the beach,
  • tried to sit up, and collapsed upon my broken arm. Then Moreau appeared,
  • his massive white face all the more terrible for the blood that
  • trickled from his forehead. He carried a revolver in one hand.
  • He scarcely glanced at me, but rushed off at once in pursuit of
  • the puma.
  • I tried the other arm and sat up. The muffled figure in front ran
  • in great striding leaps along the beach, and Moreau followed her.
  • She turned her head and saw him, then doubling abruptly made
  • for the bushes. She gained upon him at every stride. I saw her
  • plunge into them, and Moreau, running slantingly to intercept her,
  • fired and missed as she disappeared. Then he too vanished
  • in the green confusion. I stared after them, and then the pain
  • in my arm flamed up, and with a groan I staggered to my feet.
  • Montgomery appeared in the doorway, dressed, and with his revolver in
  • his hand.
  • "Great God, Prendick!" he said, not noticing that I was hurt,
  • "that brute's loose! Tore the fetter out of the wall!
  • Have you seen them?" Then sharply, seeing I gripped my arm,
  • "What's the matter?"
  • "I was standing in the doorway," said I.
  • He came forward and took my arm. "Blood on the sleeve,"
  • said he, and rolled back the flannel. He pocketed his weapon,
  • felt my arm about painfully, and led me inside. "Your arm
  • is broken," he said, and then, "Tell me exactly how it
  • happened--what happened?"
  • I told him what I had seen; told him in broken sentences,
  • with gasps of pain between them, and very dexterously and swiftly
  • he bound my arm meanwhile. He slung it from my shoulder,
  • stood back and looked at me.
  • "You'll do," he said. "And now?"
  • He thought. Then he went out and locked the gates of the enclosure.
  • He was absent some time.
  • I was chiefly concerned about my arm. The incident seemed merely
  • one more of many horrible things. I sat down in the deck chair,
  • and I must admit swore heartily at the island. The first dull
  • feeling of injury in my arm had already given way to a burning pain
  • when Montgomery reappeared. His face was rather pale, and he showed
  • more of his lower gums than ever.
  • "I can neither see nor hear anything of him," he said.
  • "I've been thinking he may want my help." He stared at me with
  • his expressionless eyes. "That was a strong brute," he said.
  • "It simply wrenched its fetter out of the wall." He went to the window,
  • then to the door, and there turned to me. "I shall go after him,"
  • he said. "There's another revolver I can leave with you.
  • To tell you the truth, I feel anxious somehow."
  • He obtained the weapon, and put it ready to my hand on the table;
  • then went out, leaving a restless contagion in the air.
  • I did not sit long after he left, but took the revolver in hand and went
  • to the doorway.
  • The morning was as still as death. Not a whisper of wind was stirring;
  • the sea was like polished glass, the sky empty, the beach desolate.
  • In my half-excited, half-feverish state, this stillness of things
  • oppressed me. I tried to whistle, and the tune died away.
  • I swore again,--the second time that morning. Then I went to the corner
  • of the enclosure and stared inland at the green bush that had
  • swallowed up Moreau and Montgomery. When would they return, and how?
  • Then far away up the beach a little grey Beast Man appeared,
  • ran down to the water's edge and began splashing about.
  • I strolled back to the doorway, then to the corner again,
  • and so began pacing to and fro like a sentinel upon duty.
  • Once I was arrested by the distant voice of Montgomery bawling,
  • "Coo-ee--Moreau!" My arm became less painful, but very hot.
  • I got feverish and thirsty. My shadow grew shorter.
  • I watched the distant figure until it went away again. Would Moreau
  • and Montgomery never return? Three sea-birds began fighting for some
  • stranded treasure.
  • Then from far away behind the enclosure I heard a pistol-shot. A
  • long silence, and then came another. Then a yelling cry nearer,
  • and another dismal gap of silence. My unfortunate imagination
  • set to work to torment me. Then suddenly a shot close by.
  • I went to the corner, startled, and saw Montgomery,--his face scarlet,
  • his hair disordered, and the knee of his trousers torn.
  • His face expressed profound consternation. Behind him slouched
  • the Beast Man, M'ling, and round M'ling's jaws were some queer
  • dark stains.
  • "Has he come?" said Montgomery.
  • "Moreau?" said I. "No."
  • "My God!" The man was panting, almost sobbing. "Go back in," he said,
  • taking my arm. "They're mad. They're all rushing about mad. What can
  • have happened? I don't know. I'll tell you, when my breath comes.
  • Where's some brandy?"
  • Montgomery limped before me into the room and sat down in the deck chair.
  • M'ling flung himself down just outside the doorway and began
  • panting like a dog. I got Montgomery some brandy-and-water. He
  • sat staring in front of him at nothing, recovering his breath.
  • After some minutes he began to tell me what had happened.
  • He had followed their track for some way. It was plain enough at
  • first on account of the crushed and broken bushes, white rags torn
  • from the puma's bandages, and occasional smears of blood on the leaves
  • of the shrubs and undergrowth. He lost the track, however, on the stony
  • ground beyond the stream where I had seen the Beast Man drinking,
  • and went wandering aimlessly westward shouting Moreau's name.
  • Then M'ling had come to him carrying a light hatchet. M'ling had seen
  • nothing of the puma affair; had been felling wood, and heard him calling.
  • They went on shouting together. Two Beast Men came crouching
  • and peering at them through the undergrowth, with gestures and a
  • furtive carriage that alarmed Montgomery by their strangeness.
  • He hailed them, and they fled guiltily. He stopped shouting
  • after that, and after wandering some time farther in an undecided way,
  • determined to visit the huts.
  • He found the ravine deserted.
  • Growing more alarmed every minute, he began to retrace his steps.
  • Then it was he encountered the two Swine-men I had seen dancing
  • on the night of my arrival; blood-stained they were about the mouth,
  • and intensely excited. They came crashing through the ferns,
  • and stopped with fierce faces when they saw him. He cracked his whip
  • in some trepidation, and forthwith they rushed at him. Never before
  • had a Beast Man dared to do that. One he shot through the head;
  • M'ling flung himself upon the other, and the two rolled grappling.
  • M'ling got his brute under and with his teeth in its throat,
  • and Montgomery shot that too as it struggled in M'ling's grip.
  • He had some difficulty in inducing M'ling to come on with him.
  • Thence they had hurried back to me. On the way, M'ling had suddenly
  • rushed into a thicket and driven out an under-sized Ocelot-man,
  • also blood-stained, and lame through a wound in the foot.
  • This brute had run a little way and then turned savagely at bay,
  • and Montgomery--with a certain wantonness, I thought--had shot
  • him.
  • "What does it all mean?" said I.
  • He shook his head, and turned once more to the brandy.
  • XVIII. THE FINDING OF MOREAU.
  • WHEN I saw Montgomery swallow a third dose of brandy, I took it
  • upon myself to interfere. He was already more than half fuddled.
  • I told him that some serious thing must have happened to
  • Moreau by this time, or he would have returned before this,
  • and that it behoved us to ascertain what that catastrophe was.
  • Montgomery raised some feeble objections, and at last agreed.
  • We had some food, and then all three of us started.
  • It is possibly due to the tension of my mind, at the time,
  • but even now that start into the hot stillness of the tropical
  • afternoon is a singularly vivid impression. M'ling went first,
  • his shoulder hunched, his strange black head moving with quick
  • starts as he peered first on this side of the way and then on that.
  • He was unarmed; his axe he had dropped when he encountered
  • the Swine-man. Teeth were _his_ weapons, when it came to fighting.
  • Montgomery followed with stumbling footsteps, his hands in his pockets,
  • his face downcast; he was in a state of muddled sullenness
  • with me on account of the brandy. My left arm was in a sling
  • (it was lucky it was my left), and I carried my revolver in my right.
  • Soon we traced a narrow path through the wild luxuriance of
  • the island, going northwestward; and presently M'ling stopped,
  • and became rigid with watchfulness. Montgomery almost staggered
  • into him, and then stopped too. Then, listening intently,
  • we heard coming through the trees the sound of voices and footsteps
  • approaching us.
  • "He is dead," said a deep, vibrating voice.
  • "He is not dead; he is not dead," jabbered another.
  • "We saw, we saw," said several voices.
  • "Hullo!" suddenly shouted Montgomery, "Hullo, there!"
  • "Confound you!" said I, and gripped my pistol.
  • There was a silence, then a crashing among the interlacing vegetation,
  • first here, then there, and then half-a-dozen faces appeared,--strange
  • faces, lit by a strange light. M'ling made a growling
  • noise in his throat. I recognised the Ape-man: I had indeed
  • already identified his voice, and two of the white-swathed
  • brown-featured creatures I had seen in Montgomery's boat.
  • With these were the two dappled brutes and that grey, horribly crooked
  • creature who said the Law, with grey hair streaming down its cheeks,
  • heavy grey eyebrows, and grey locks pouring off from a central
  • parting upon its sloping forehead,--a heavy, faceless thing,
  • with strange red eyes, looking at us curiously from amidst
  • the green.
  • For a space no one spoke. Then Montgomery hiccoughed, "Who--said
  • he was dead?"
  • The Monkey-man looked guiltily at the hairy-grey Thing. "He is dead,"
  • said this monster. "They saw."
  • There was nothing threatening about this detachment, at any rate.
  • They seemed awestricken and puzzled.
  • "Where is he?" said Montgomery.
  • "Beyond," and the grey creature pointed.
  • "Is there a Law now?" asked the Monkey-man. "Is it still to be this
  • and that? Is he dead indeed?"
  • "Is there a Law?" repeated the man in white. "Is there a Law,
  • thou Other with the Whip?"
  • "He is dead," said the hairy-grey Thing. And they all stood
  • watching us.
  • "Prendick," said Montgomery, turning his dull eyes to me.
  • "He's dead, evidently."
  • I had been standing behind him during this colloquy.
  • I began to see how things lay with them. I suddenly stepped in front
  • of Montgomery and lifted up my voice:--"Children of the Law,"
  • I said, "he is _not_ dead!" M'ling turned his sharp eyes on me.
  • "He has changed his shape; he has changed his body," I went on.
  • "For a time you will not see him. He is--there," I pointed upward,
  • "where he can watch you. You cannot see him, but he can see you.
  • Fear the Law!"
  • I looked at them squarely. They flinched.
  • "He is great, he is good," said the Ape-man, peering fearfully
  • upward among the dense trees.
  • "And the other Thing?" I demanded.
  • "The Thing that bled, and ran screaming and sobbing,--that is dead too,"
  • said the grey Thing, still regarding me.
  • "That's well," grunted Montgomery.
  • "The Other with the Whip--" began the grey Thing.
  • "Well?" said I.
  • "Said he was dead."
  • But Montgomery was still sober enough to understand my motive in denying
  • Moreau's death. "He is not dead," he said slowly, "not dead at all.
  • No more dead than I am."
  • "Some," said I, "have broken the Law: they will die. Some have died.
  • Show us now where his old body lies,--the body he cast away because
  • he had no more need of it."
  • "It is this way, Man who walked in the Sea," said the grey Thing.
  • And with these six creatures guiding us, we went through the tumult
  • of ferns and creepers and tree-stems towards the northwest.
  • Then came a yelling, a crashing among the branches, and a little
  • pink homunculus rushed by us shrieking. Immediately after appeared
  • a monster in headlong pursuit, blood-bedabbled, who was amongst us
  • almost before he could stop his career. The grey Thing leapt aside.
  • M'ling, with a snarl, flew at it, and was struck aside. Montgomery fired
  • and missed, bowed his head, threw up his arm, and turned to run.
  • I fired, and the Thing still came on; fired again, point-blank, into
  • its ugly face. I saw its features vanish in a flash: its face was
  • driven in. Yet it passed me, gripped Montgomery, and holding him,
  • fell headlong beside him and pulled him sprawling upon itself in its
  • death-agony.
  • I found myself alone with M'ling, the dead brute, and the prostrate man.
  • Montgomery raised himself slowly and stared in a muddled way at
  • the shattered Beast Man beside him. It more than half sobered him.
  • He scrambled to his feet. Then I saw the grey Thing returning cautiously
  • through the trees.
  • "See," said I, pointing to the dead brute, "is the Law not alive?
  • This came of breaking the Law."
  • He peered at the body. "He sends the Fire that kills,"
  • said he, in his deep voice, repeating part of the Ritual.
  • The others gathered round and stared for a space.
  • At last we drew near the westward extremity of the island.
  • We came upon the gnawed and mutilated body of the puma,
  • its shoulder-bone smashed by a bullet, and perhaps twenty yards
  • farther found at last what we sought. Moreau lay face downward
  • in a trampled space in a canebrake. One hand was almost severed
  • at the wrist and his silvery hair was dabbled in blood.
  • His head had been battered in by the fetters of the puma.
  • The broken canes beneath him were smeared with blood.
  • His revolver we could not find. Montgomery turned him over.
  • Resting at intervals, and with the help of the seven Beast People
  • (for he was a heavy man), we carried Moreau back to the enclosure.
  • The night was darkling. Twice we heard unseen creatures howling
  • and shrieking past our little band, and once the little pink
  • sloth-creature appeared and stared at us, and vanished again.
  • But we were not attacked again. At the gates of the enclosure
  • our company of Beast People left us, M'ling going with the rest.
  • We locked ourselves in, and then took Moreau's mangled
  • body into the yard and laid it upon a pile of brushwood.
  • Then we went into the laboratory and put an end to all we found living
  • there.
  • XIX. MONTGOMERY'S "BANK HOLIDAY."
  • WHEN this was accomplished, and we had washed and eaten,
  • Montgomery and I went into my little room and seriously discussed
  • our position for the first time. It was then near midnight.
  • He was almost sober, but greatly disturbed in his mind.
  • He had been strangely under the influence of Moreau's personality:
  • I do not think it had ever occurred to him that Moreau could die.
  • This disaster was the sudden collapse of the habits that had become part of
  • his nature in the ten or more monotonous years he had spent on the island.
  • He talked vaguely, answered my questions crookedly, wandered into
  • general questions.
  • "This silly ass of a world," he said; "what a muddle it all is!
  • I haven't had any life. I wonder when it's going to begin.
  • Sixteen years being bullied by nurses and schoolmasters at
  • their own sweet will; five in London grinding hard at medicine,
  • bad food, shabby lodgings, shabby clothes, shabby vice, a blunder,--I
  • didn't know any better,--and hustled off to this beastly island.
  • Ten years here! What's it all for, Prendick? Are we bubbles blown by
  • a baby?"
  • It was hard to deal with such ravings. "The thing we have to think
  • of now," said I, "is how to get away from this island."
  • "What's the good of getting away? I'm an outcast.
  • Where am _I_ to join on? It's all very well for _you_, Prendick.
  • Poor old Moreau! We can't leave him here to have his bones picked.
  • As it is--And besides, what will become of the decent part of the
  • Beast Folk?"
  • "Well," said I, "that will do to-morrow. I've been thinking we might make
  • the brushwood into a pyre and burn his body--and those other things.
  • Then what will happen with the Beast Folk?"
  • "_I_ don't know. I suppose those that were made of beasts of prey will
  • make silly asses of themselves sooner or later. We can't massacre
  • the lot--can we? I suppose that's what _your_ humanity would suggest?
  • But they'll change. They are sure to change."
  • He talked thus inconclusively until at last I felt my temper going.
  • "Damnation!" he exclaimed at some petulance of mine; "can't you see I'm
  • in a worse hole than you are?" And he got up, and went for the brandy.
  • "Drink!" he said returning, "you logic-chopping, chalky-faced saint
  • of an atheist, drink!"
  • "Not I," said I, and sat grimly watching his face under the yellow
  • paraffine flare, as he drank himself into a garrulous misery.
  • I have a memory of infinite tedium. He wandered into a maudlin
  • defence of the Beast People and of M'ling. M'ling, he said,
  • was the only thing that had ever really cared for him.
  • And suddenly an idea came to him.
  • "I'm damned!" said he, staggering to his feet and clutching
  • the brandy bottle.
  • By some flash of intuition I knew what it was he intended.
  • "You don't give drink to that beast!" I said, rising and facing him.
  • "Beast!" said he. "You're the beast. He takes his liquor
  • like a Christian. Come out of the way, Prendick!"
  • "For God's sake," said I.
  • "Get--out of the way!" he roared, and suddenly whipped out his revolver.
  • "Very well," said I, and stood aside, half-minded to fall upon him
  • as he put his hand upon the latch, but deterred by the thought
  • of my useless arm. "You've made a beast of yourself,--to the beasts
  • you may go."
  • He flung the doorway open, and stood half facing me between
  • the yellow lamp-light and the pallid glare of the moon;
  • his eye-sockets were blotches of black under his stubbly eyebrows.
  • "You're a solemn prig, Prendick, a silly ass! You're always fearing
  • and fancying. We're on the edge of things. I'm bound to cut my
  • throat to-morrow. I'm going to have a damned Bank Holiday to-night."
  • He turned and went out into the moonlight. "M'ling!" he cried;
  • "M'ling, old friend!"
  • Three dim creatures in the silvery light came along the edge
  • of the wan beach,--one a white-wrapped creature, the other two
  • blotches of blackness following it. They halted, staring.
  • Then I saw M'ling's hunched shoulders as he came round the corner
  • of the house.
  • "Drink!" cried Montgomery, "drink, you brutes! Drink and be men!
  • Damme, I'm the cleverest. Moreau forgot this; this is the last touch.
  • Drink, I tell you!" And waving the bottle in his hand he started
  • off at a kind of quick trot to the westward, M'ling ranging himself
  • between him and the three dim creatures who followed.
  • I went to the doorway. They were already indistinct in the mist
  • of the moonlight before Montgomery halted. I saw him administer
  • a dose of the raw brandy to M'ling, and saw the five figures melt
  • into one vague patch.
  • "Sing!" I heard Montgomery shout,--"sing all together, 'Confound
  • old Prendick!' That's right; now again, 'Confound old Prendick!'"
  • The black group broke up into five separate figures,
  • and wound slowly away from me along the band of shining beach.
  • Each went howling at his own sweet will, yelping insults at me,
  • or giving whatever other vent this new inspiration of brandy demanded.
  • Presently I heard Montgomery's voice shouting, "Right turn!"
  • and they passed with their shouts and howls into the blackness
  • of the landward trees. Slowly, very slowly, they receded
  • into silence.
  • The peaceful splendour of the night healed again.
  • The moon was now past the meridian and travelling down the west.
  • It was at its full, and very bright riding through the empty blue sky.
  • The shadow of the wall lay, a yard wide and of inky blackness, at my feet.
  • The eastward sea was a featureless grey, dark and mysterious;
  • and between the sea and the shadow the grey sands (of volcanic
  • glass and crystals) flashed and shone like a beach of diamonds.
  • Behind me the paraffine lamp flared hot and ruddy.
  • Then I shut the door, locked it, and went into the enclosure where
  • Moreau lay beside his latest victims,--the staghounds and the llama
  • and some other wretched brutes,--with his massive face calm even
  • after his terrible death, and with the hard eyes open, staring at
  • the dead white moon above. I sat down upon the edge of the sink,
  • and with my eyes upon that ghastly pile of silvery light and ominous
  • shadows began to turn over my plans. In the morning I would gather
  • some provisions in the dingey, and after setting fire to the pyre
  • before me, push out into the desolation of the high sea once more.
  • I felt that for Montgomery there was no help; that he was, in truth,
  • half akin to these Beast Folk, unfitted for human kindred.
  • I do not know how long I sat there scheming. It must have been
  • an hour or so. Then my planning was interrupted by the return of
  • Montgomery to my neighbourhood. I heard a yelling from many throats,
  • a tumult of exultant cries passing down towards the beach,
  • whooping and howling, and excited shrieks that seemed to come to a stop
  • near the water's edge. The riot rose and fell; I heard heavy blows
  • and the splintering smash of wood, but it did not trouble me then.
  • A discordant chanting began.
  • My thoughts went back to my means of escape. I got up, brought the lamp,
  • and went into a shed to look at some kegs I had seen there.
  • Then I became interested in the contents of some biscuit-tins, and
  • opened one. I saw something out of the tail of my eye,--a red
  • figure,--and turned sharply.
  • Behind me lay the yard, vividly black-and-white in the moonlight,
  • and the pile of wood and faggots on which Moreau and his mutilated
  • victims lay, one over another. They seemed to be gripping one another
  • in one last revengeful grapple. His wounds gaped, black as night,
  • and the blood that had dripped lay in black patches upon the sand.
  • Then I saw, without understanding, the cause of my phantom,--a
  • ruddy glow that came and danced and went upon the wall opposite.
  • I misinterpreted this, fancied it was a reflection of my
  • flickering lamp, and turned again to the stores in the shed.
  • I went on rummaging among them, as well as a one-armed man could,
  • finding this convenient thing and that, and putting them
  • aside for to-morrow's launch. My movements were slow,
  • and the time passed quickly. Insensibly the daylight crept
  • upon me.
  • The chanting died down, giving place to a clamour; then it
  • began again, and suddenly broke into a tumult. I heard cries of,
  • "More! more!" a sound like quarrelling, and a sudden wild shriek.
  • The quality of the sounds changed so greatly that it arrested
  • my attention. I went out into the yard and listened.
  • Then cutting like a knife across the confusion came the crack of
  • a revolver.
  • I rushed at once through my room to the little doorway.
  • As I did so I heard some of the packing-cases behind me go sliding down
  • and smash together with a clatter of glass on the floor of the shed.
  • But I did not heed these. I flung the door open and looked out.
  • Up the beach by the boathouse a bonfire was burning, raining up
  • sparks into the indistinctness of the dawn. Around this struggled
  • a mass of black figures. I heard Montgomery call my name.
  • I began to run at once towards this fire, revolver in hand. I saw the pink
  • tongue of Montgomery's pistol lick out once, close to the ground.
  • He was down. I shouted with all my strength and fired into the air.
  • I heard some one cry, "The Master!" The knotted black struggle
  • broke into scattering units, the fire leapt and sank down.
  • The crowd of Beast People fled in sudden panic before me, up the beach.
  • In my excitement I fired at their retreating backs as they
  • disappeared among the bushes. Then I turned to the black heaps upon
  • the ground.
  • Montgomery lay on his back, with the hairy-grey Beast-man
  • sprawling across his body. The brute was dead, but still
  • gripping Montgomery's throat with its curving claws.
  • Near by lay M'ling on his face and quite still, his neck bitten
  • open and the upper part of the smashed brandy-bottle in his hand.
  • Two other figures lay near the fire,--the one motionless, the other
  • groaning fitfully, every now and then raising its head slowly,
  • then dropping it again.
  • I caught hold of the grey man and pulled him off Montgomery's body;
  • his claws drew down the torn coat reluctantly as I dragged him away.
  • Montgomery was dark in the face and scarcely breathing. I splashed
  • sea-water on his face and pillowed his head on my rolled-up coat.
  • M'ling was dead. The wounded creature by the fire--it was a Wolf-brute
  • with a bearded grey face--lay, I found, with the fore part of its
  • body upon the still glowing timber. The wretched thing was injured
  • so dreadfully that in mercy I blew its brains out at once.
  • The other brute was one of the Bull-men swathed in white.
  • He too was dead. The rest of the Beast People had vanished from
  • the beach.
  • I went to Montgomery again and knelt beside him, cursing my ignorance
  • of medicine. The fire beside me had sunk down, and only charred
  • beams of timber glowing at the central ends and mixed with a grey
  • ash of brushwood remained. I wondered casually where Montgomery
  • had got his wood. Then I saw that the dawn was upon us.
  • The sky had grown brighter, the setting moon was becoming pale
  • and opaque in the luminous blue of the day. The sky to the eastward
  • was rimmed with red.
  • Suddenly I heard a thud and a hissing behind me, and, looking round,
  • sprang to my feet with a cry of horror. Against the warm dawn
  • great tumultuous masses of black smoke were boiling up out of
  • the enclosure, and through their stormy darkness shot flickering
  • threads of blood-red flame. Then the thatched roof caught.
  • I saw the curving charge of the flames across the sloping straw.
  • A spurt of fire jetted from the window of my room.
  • I knew at once what had happened. I remembered the crash I had heard.
  • When I had rushed out to Montgomery's assistance, I had overturned
  • the lamp.
  • The hopelessness of saving any of the contents of the enclosure
  • stared me in the face. My mind came back to my plan of flight,
  • and turning swiftly I looked to see where the two boats lay upon
  • the beach. They were gone! Two axes lay upon the sands beside me;
  • chips and splinters were scattered broadcast, and the ashes
  • of the bonfire were blackening and smoking under the dawn.
  • Montgomery had burnt the boats to revenge himself upon me and prevent our
  • return to mankind!
  • A sudden convulsion of rage shook me. I was almost moved to batter
  • his foolish head in, as he lay there helpless at my feet.
  • Then suddenly his hand moved, so feebly, so pitifully, that my
  • wrath vanished. He groaned, and opened his eyes for a minute.
  • I knelt down beside him and raised his head. He opened his
  • eyes again, staring silently at the dawn, and then they met mine.
  • The lids fell.
  • "Sorry," he said presently, with an effort. He seemed trying to think.
  • "The last," he murmured, "the last of this silly universe.
  • What a mess--"
  • I listened. His head fell helplessly to one side. I thought some drink
  • might revive him; but there was neither drink nor vessel in which to
  • bring drink at hand. He seemed suddenly heavier. My heart went cold.
  • I bent down to his face, put my hand through the rent in his blouse.
  • He was dead; and even as he died a line of white heat, the limb
  • of the sun, rose eastward beyond the projection of the bay,
  • splashing its radiance across the sky and turning the dark sea into
  • a weltering tumult of dazzling light. It fell like a glory upon his
  • death-shrunken face.
  • I let his head fall gently upon the rough pillow I had made for him,
  • and stood up. Before me was the glittering desolation of the sea,
  • the awful solitude upon which I had already suffered so much; behind me
  • the island, hushed under the dawn, its Beast People silent and unseen.
  • The enclosure, with all its provisions and ammunition, burnt noisily,
  • with sudden gusts of flame, a fitful crackling, and now and then a crash.
  • The heavy smoke drove up the beach away from me, rolling low
  • over the distant tree-tops towards the huts in the ravine.
  • Beside me were the charred vestiges of the boats and these five
  • dead bodies.
  • Then out of the bushes came three Beast People, with hunched shoulders,
  • protruding heads, misshapen hands awkwardly held, and inquisitive,
  • unfriendly eyes and advanced towards me with hesitating gestures.
  • XX. ALONE WITH THE BEAST FOLK.
  • I FACED these people, facing my fate in them, single-handed
  • now,--literally single-handed, for I had a broken arm. In my pocket was
  • a revolver with two empty chambers. Among the chips scattered about
  • the beach lay the two axes that had been used to chop up the boats.
  • The tide was creeping in behind me. There was nothing for it but
  • courage. I looked squarely into the faces of the advancing monsters.
  • They avoided my eyes, and their quivering nostrils investigated
  • the bodies that lay beyond me on the beach. I took half-a-dozen steps,
  • picked up the blood-stained whip that lay beneath the body
  • of the Wolf-man, and cracked it. They stopped and stared
  • at me.
  • "Salute!" said I. "Bow down!"
  • They hesitated. One bent his knees. I repeated my command,
  • with my heart in my mouth, and advanced upon them. One knelt,
  • then the other two.
  • I turned and walked towards the dead bodies, keeping my face
  • towards the three kneeling Beast Men, very much as an actor passing
  • up the stage faces the audience.
  • "They broke the Law," said I, putting my foot on the Sayer of the Law.
  • "They have been slain,--even the Sayer of the Law; even the Other with
  • the Whip. Great is the Law! Come and see."
  • "None escape," said one of them, advancing and peering.
  • "None escape," said I. "Therefore hear and do as I command."
  • They stood up, looking questioningly at one another.
  • "Stand there," said I.
  • I picked up the hatchets and swung them by their heads from
  • the sling of my arm; turned Montgomery over; picked up his revolver
  • still loaded in two chambers, and bending down to rummage,
  • found half-a-dozen cartridges in his pocket.
  • "Take him," said I, standing up again and pointing with the whip;
  • "take him, and carry him out and cast him into the sea."
  • They came forward, evidently still afraid of Montgomery,
  • but still more afraid of my cracking red whip-lash; and after
  • some fumbling and hesitation, some whip-cracking and shouting,
  • they lifted him gingerly, carried him down to the beach, and went
  • splashing into the dazzling welter of the sea.
  • "On!" said I, "on! Carry him far."
  • They went in up to their armpits and stood regarding me.
  • "Let go," said I; and the body of Montgomery vanished with a splash.
  • Something seemed to tighten across my chest.
  • "Good!" said I, with a break in my voice; and they came back,
  • hurrying and fearful, to the margin of the water, leaving long
  • wakes of black in the silver. At the water's edge they stopped,
  • turning and glaring into the sea as though they presently expected
  • Montgomery to arise therefrom and exact vengeance.
  • "Now these," said I, pointing to the other bodies.
  • They took care not to approach the place where they had thrown
  • Montgomery into the water, but instead, carried the four dead
  • Beast People slantingly along the beach for perhaps a hundred
  • yards before they waded out and cast them away.
  • As I watched them disposing of the mangled remains of M'ling, I
  • heard a light footfall behind me, and turning quickly saw the big
  • Hyena-swine perhaps a dozen yards away. His head was bent down,
  • his bright eyes were fixed upon me, his stumpy hands clenched
  • and held close by his side. He stopped in this crouching attitude
  • when I turned, his eyes a little averted.
  • For a moment we stood eye to eye. I dropped the whip and snatched
  • at the pistol in my pocket; for I meant to kill this brute, the most
  • formidable of any left now upon the island, at the first excuse.
  • It may seem treacherous, but so I was resolved. I was far
  • more afraid of him than of any other two of the Beast Folk.
  • His continued life was I knew a threat against mine.
  • I was perhaps a dozen seconds collecting myself. Then cried I, "Salute!
  • Bow down!"
  • His teeth flashed upon me in a snarl. "Who are _you_ that I should--"
  • Perhaps a little too spasmodically I drew my revolver, aimed quickly
  • and fired. I heard him yelp, saw him run sideways and turn, knew I
  • had missed, and clicked back the cock with my thumb for the next shot.
  • But he was already running headlong, jumping from side to side,
  • and I dared not risk another miss. Every now and then he looked
  • back at me over his shoulder. He went slanting along the beach,
  • and vanished beneath the driving masses of dense smoke that were
  • still pouring out from the burning enclosure. For some time I
  • stood staring after him. I turned to my three obedient Beast Folk
  • again and signalled them to drop the body they still carried.
  • Then I went back to the place by the fire where the bodies had fallen
  • and kicked the sand until all the brown blood-stains were absorbed
  • and hidden.
  • I dismissed my three serfs with a wave of the hand, and went up
  • the beach into the thickets. I carried my pistol in my hand,
  • my whip thrust with the hatchets in the sling of my arm.
  • I was anxious to be alone, to think out the position in which I
  • was now placed. A dreadful thing that I was only beginning
  • to realise was, that over all this island there was now no safe
  • place where I could be alone and secure to rest or sleep.
  • I had recovered strength amazingly since my landing, but I was still
  • inclined to be nervous and to break down under any great stress.
  • I felt that I ought to cross the island and establish myself
  • with the Beast People, and make myself secure in their confidence.
  • But my heart failed me. I went back to the beach, and turning
  • eastward past the burning enclosure, made for a point where a shallow
  • spit of coral sand ran out towards the reef. Here I could sit down
  • and think, my back to the sea and my face against any surprise.
  • And there I sat, chin on knees, the sun beating down upon my head
  • and unspeakable dread in my mind, plotting how I could live on against
  • the hour of my rescue (if ever rescue came). I tried to review the whole
  • situation as calmly as I could, but it was difficult to clear the thing
  • of emotion.
  • I began turning over in my mind the reason of Montgomery's despair.
  • "They will change," he said; "they are sure to change." And Moreau,
  • what was it that Moreau had said? "The stubborn beast-flesh grows
  • day by day back again." Then I came round to the Hyena-swine. I
  • felt sure that if I did not kill that brute, he would kill me.
  • The Sayer of the Law was dead: worse luck. They knew now that we
  • of the Whips could be killed even as they themselves were killed.
  • Were they peering at me already out of the green masses of ferns
  • and palms over yonder, watching until I came within their spring?
  • Were they plotting against me? What was the Hyena-swine telling them?
  • My imagination was running away with me into a morass of unsubstantial
  • fears.
  • My thoughts were disturbed by a crying of sea-birds hurrying
  • towards some black object that had been stranded by the waves
  • on the beach near the enclosure. I knew what that object was,
  • but I had not the heart to go back and drive them off.
  • I began walking along the beach in the opposite direction,
  • designing to come round the eastward corner of the island and so
  • approach the ravine of the huts, without traversing the possible
  • ambuscades of the thickets.
  • Perhaps half a mile along the beach I became aware of one of my three
  • Beast Folk advancing out of the landward bushes towards me. I was now
  • so nervous with my own imaginings that I immediately drew my revolver.
  • Even the propitiatory gestures of the creature failed to disarm me.
  • He hesitated as he approached.
  • "Go away!" cried I.
  • There was something very suggestive of a dog in the cringing attitude
  • of the creature. It retreated a little way, very like a dog being
  • sent home, and stopped, looking at me imploringly with canine
  • brown eyes.
  • "Go away," said I. "Do not come near me."
  • "May I not come near you?" it said.
  • "No; go away," I insisted, and snapped my whip. Then putting
  • my whip in my teeth, I stooped for a stone, and with that threat
  • drove the creature away.
  • So in solitude I came round by the ravine of the Beast People,
  • and hiding among the weeds and reeds that separated this
  • crevice from the sea I watched such of them as appeared,
  • trying to judge from their gestures and appearance how the death
  • of Moreau and Montgomery and the destruction of the House of Pain
  • had affected them. I know now the folly of my cowardice.
  • Had I kept my courage up to the level of the dawn, had I not
  • allowed it to ebb away in solitary thought, I might have grasped
  • the vacant sceptre of Moreau and ruled over the Beast People.
  • As it was I lost the opportunity, and sank to the position of a mere
  • leader among my fellows.
  • Towards noon certain of them came and squatted basking in the hot sand.
  • The imperious voices of hunger and thirst prevailed over my dread.
  • I came out of the bushes, and, revolver in hand, walked down towards
  • these seated figures. One, a Wolf-woman, turned her head and stared
  • at me, and then the others. None attempted to rise or salute me.
  • I felt too faint and weary to insist, and I let the moment pass.
  • "I want food," said I, almost apologetically, and drawing near.
  • "There is food in the huts," said an Ox-boar-man, drowsily,
  • and looking away from me.
  • I passed them, and went down into the shadow and odours of the almost
  • deserted ravine. In an empty hut I feasted on some specked
  • and half-decayed fruit; and then after I had propped some branches
  • and sticks about the opening, and placed myself with my face
  • towards it and my hand upon my revolver, the exhaustion of the last
  • thirty hours claimed its own, and I fell into a light slumber,
  • hoping that the flimsy barricade I had erected would cause
  • sufficient noise in its removal to save me from surprise.
  • XXI. THE REVERSION OF THE BEAST FOLK.
  • IN this way I became one among the Beast People in the Island
  • of Doctor Moreau. When I awoke, it was dark about me. My arm ached
  • in its bandages. I sat up, wondering at first where I might be.
  • I heard coarse voices talking outside. Then I saw that my
  • barricade had gone, and that the opening of the hut stood clear.
  • My revolver was still in my hand.
  • I heard something breathing, saw something crouched together
  • close beside me. I held my breath, trying to see what it was.
  • It began to move slowly, interminably. Then something soft and warm
  • and moist passed across my hand. All my muscles contracted. I snatched
  • my hand away. A cry of alarm began and was stifled in my throat.
  • Then I just realised what had happened sufficiently to stay my fingers on
  • the revolver.
  • "Who is that?" I said in a hoarse whisper, the revolver still pointed.
  • "I--Master."
  • "Who are you?"
  • "They say there is no Master now. But I know, I know. I carried the
  • bodies into the sea, O Walker in the Sea! the bodies of those you slew.
  • I am your slave, Master."
  • "Are you the one I met on the beach?" I asked.
  • "The same, Master."
  • The Thing was evidently faithful enough, for it might have fallen
  • upon me as I slept. "It is well," I said, extending my hand for
  • another licking kiss. I began to realise what its presence meant,
  • and the tide of my courage flowed. "Where are the others?"
  • I asked.
  • "They are mad; they are fools," said the Dog-man. "Even now they
  • talk together beyond there. They say, 'The Master is dead.
  • The Other with the Whip is dead. That Other who walked in the Sea is
  • as we are. We have no Master, no Whips, no House of Pain, any more.
  • There is an end. We love the Law, and will keep it; but there
  • is no Pain, no Master, no Whips for ever again.' So they say.
  • But I know, Master, I know."
  • I felt in the darkness, and patted the Dog-man's head. "It is well,"
  • I said again.
  • "Presently you will slay them all," said the Dog-man.
  • "Presently," I answered, "I will slay them all,--after certain
  • days and certain things have come to pass. Every one of them save
  • those you spare, every one of them shall be slain."
  • "What the Master wishes to kill, the Master kills," said the Dog-man
  • with a certain satisfaction in his voice.
  • "And that their sins may grow," I said, "let them live in their folly
  • until their time is ripe. Let them not know that I am the Master."
  • "The Master's will is sweet," said the Dog-man, with the ready tact
  • of his canine blood.
  • "But one has sinned," said I. "Him I will kill, whenever I may meet him.
  • When I say to you, 'That is he,' see that you fall upon him.
  • And now I will go to the men and women who are assembled together."
  • For a moment the opening of the hut was blackened by the exit of
  • the Dog-man. Then I followed and stood up, almost in the exact spot
  • where I had been when I had heard Moreau and his staghound pursuing me.
  • But now it was night, and all the miasmatic ravine about me was black;
  • and beyond, instead of a green, sunlit slope, I saw a red fire,
  • before which hunched, grotesque figures moved to and fro.
  • Farther were the thick trees, a bank of darkness, fringed above
  • with the black lace of the upper branches. The moon was just riding
  • up on the edge of the ravine, and like a bar across its face drove
  • the spire of vapour that was for ever streaming from the fumaroles of
  • the island.
  • "Walk by me," said I, nerving myself; and side by side we walked
  • down the narrow way, taking little heed of the dim Things that peered
  • at us out of the huts.
  • None about the fire attempted to salute me. Most of them
  • disregarded me, ostentatiously. I looked round for the Hyena-swine,
  • but he was not there. Altogether, perhaps twenty of the Beast
  • Folk squatted, staring into the fire or talking to one another.
  • "He is dead, he is dead! the Master is dead!" said the voice
  • of the Ape-man to the right of me. "The House of Pain--there
  • is no House of Pain!"
  • "He is not dead," said I, in a loud voice. "Even now he watches us!"
  • This startled them. Twenty pairs of eyes regarded me.
  • "The House of Pain is gone," said I. "It will come again.
  • The Master you cannot see; yet even now he listens among you."
  • "True, true!" said the Dog-man.
  • They were staggered at my assurance. An animal may be ferocious
  • and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie.
  • "The Man with the Bandaged Arm speaks a strange thing,"
  • said one of the Beast Folk.
  • "I tell you it is so," I said. "The Master and the House of Pain
  • will come again. Woe be to him who breaks the Law!"
  • They looked curiously at one another. With an affectation of indifference
  • I began to chop idly at the ground in front of me with my hatchet.
  • They looked, I noticed, at the deep cuts I made in the turf.
  • Then the Satyr raised a doubt. I answered him. Then one of the dappled
  • things objected, and an animated discussion sprang up round the fire.
  • Every moment I began to feel more convinced of my present security.
  • I talked now without the catching in my breath, due to the intensity
  • of my excitement, that had troubled me at first. In the course of about
  • an hour I had really convinced several of the Beast Folk of the truth
  • of my assertions, and talked most of the others into a dubious state.
  • I kept a sharp eye for my enemy the Hyena-swine, but he never appeared.
  • Every now and then a suspicious movement would startle me, but my
  • confidence grew rapidly. Then as the moon crept down from the zenith,
  • one by one the listeners began to yawn (showing the oddest teeth in
  • the light of the sinking fire), and first one and then another retired
  • towards the dens in the ravine; and I, dreading the silence and darkness,
  • went with them, knowing I was safer with several of them than with
  • one alone.
  • In this manner began the longer part of my sojourn upon this
  • Island of Doctor Moreau. But from that night until the end came,
  • there was but one thing happened to tell save a series of innumerable
  • small unpleasant details and the fretting of an incessant uneasiness.
  • So that I prefer to make no chronicle for that gap of time,
  • to tell only one cardinal incident of the ten months I spent as an
  • intimate of these half-humanised brutes. There is much that sticks
  • in my memory that I could write,--things that I would cheerfully
  • give my right hand to forget; but they do not help the telling of
  • the story.
  • In the retrospect it is strange to remember how soon I fell
  • in with these monsters' ways, and gained my confidence again.
  • I had my quarrels with them of course, and could show some of
  • their teeth-marks still; but they soon gained a wholesome respect
  • for my trick of throwing stones and for the bite of my hatchet.
  • And my Saint-Bernard-man's loyalty was of infinite service to me.
  • I found their simple scale of honour was based mainly on the capacity
  • for inflicting trenchant wounds. Indeed, I may say--without vanity,
  • I hope--that I held something like pre-eminence among them.
  • One or two, whom in a rare access of high spirits I had scarred
  • rather badly, bore me a grudge; but it vented itself chiefly
  • behind my back, and at a safe distance from my missiles,
  • in grimaces.
  • The Hyena-swine avoided me, and I was always on the alert for him.
  • My inseparable Dog-man hated and dreaded him intensely.
  • I really believe that was at the root of the brute's attachment to me.
  • It was soon evident to me that the former monster had tasted blood,
  • and gone the way of the Leopard-man. He formed a lair somewhere in
  • the forest, and became solitary. Once I tried to induce the Beast Folk to
  • hunt him, but I lacked the authority to make them co-operate for one end.
  • Again and again I tried to approach his den and come upon him unaware;
  • but always he was too acute for me, and saw or winded me and got away.
  • He too made every forest pathway dangerous to me and my ally
  • with his lurking ambuscades. The Dog-man scarcely dared to leave
  • my side.
  • In the first month or so the Beast Folk, compared with their
  • latter condition, were human enough, and for one or two besides
  • my canine friend I even conceived a friendly tolerance.
  • The little pink sloth-creature displayed an odd affection for me,
  • and took to following me about. The Monkey-man bored me, however;
  • he assumed, on the strength of his five digits, that he was my equal,
  • and was for ever jabbering at me,--jabbering the most arrant nonsense.
  • One thing about him entertained me a little: he had a fantastic trick
  • of coining new words. He had an idea, I believe, that to gabble
  • about names that meant nothing was the proper use of speech.
  • He called it "Big Thinks" to distinguish it from "Little Thinks,"
  • the sane every-day interests of life. If ever I made a remark
  • he did not understand, he would praise it very much, ask me to say
  • it again, learn it by heart, and go off repeating it, with a word
  • wrong here or there, to all the milder of the Beast People.
  • He thought nothing of what was plain and comprehensible.
  • I invented some very curious "Big Thinks" for his especial use.
  • I think now that he was the silliest creature I ever met;
  • he had developed in the most wonderful way the distinctive silliness
  • of man without losing one jot of the natural folly of a monkey.
  • This, I say, was in the earlier weeks of my solitude among these brutes.
  • During that time they respected the usage established by the Law,
  • and behaved with general decorum. Once I found another rabbit torn
  • to pieces,--by the Hyena-swine, I am assured,--but that was all.
  • It was about May when I first distinctly perceived a growing difference
  • in their speech and carriage, a growing coarseness of articulation,
  • a growing disinclination to talk. My Monkey-man's jabber multiplied
  • in volume but grew less and less comprehensible, more and more simian.
  • Some of the others seemed altogether slipping their hold upon speech,
  • though they still understood what I said to them at that time.
  • (Can you imagine language, once clear-cut and exact, softening and
  • guttering, losing shape and import, becoming mere lumps of sound again?)
  • And they walked erect with an increasing difficulty. Though they
  • evidently felt ashamed of themselves, every now and then I would come
  • upon one or another running on toes and finger-tips, and quite unable
  • to recover the vertical attitude. They held things more clumsily;
  • drinking by suction, feeding by gnawing, grew commoner every day.
  • I realised more keenly than ever what Moreau had told me about
  • the "stubborn beast-flesh." They were reverting, and reverting very
  • rapidly.
  • Some of them--the pioneers in this, I noticed with some surprise,
  • were all females--began to disregard the injunction of decency,
  • deliberately for the most part. Others even attempted public outrages
  • upon the institution of monogamy. The tradition of the Law was clearly
  • losing its force. I cannot pursue this disagreeable subject.
  • My Dog-man imperceptibly slipped back to the dog again; day by day
  • he became dumb, quadrupedal, hairy. I scarcely noticed the transition
  • from the companion on my right hand to the lurching dog at my side.
  • As the carelessness and disorganisation increased from day to day,
  • the lane of dwelling places, at no time very sweet, became so
  • loathsome that I left it, and going across the island made myself
  • a hovel of boughs amid the black ruins of Moreau's enclosure.
  • Some memory of pain, I found, still made that place the safest from
  • the Beast Folk.
  • It would be impossible to detail every step of the lapsing of
  • these monsters,--to tell how, day by day, the human semblance left them;
  • how they gave up bandagings and wrappings, abandoned at last every
  • stitch of clothing; how the hair began to spread over the exposed limbs;
  • how their foreheads fell away and their faces projected;
  • how the quasi-human intimacy I had permitted myself with some
  • of them in the first month of my loneliness became a shuddering
  • horror to recall.
  • The change was slow and inevitable. For them and for me it came
  • without any definite shock. I still went among them in safety,
  • because no jolt in the downward glide had released the increasing
  • charge of explosive animalism that ousted the human day by day.
  • But I began to fear that soon now that shock must come.
  • My Saint-Bernard-brute followed me to the enclosure every night,
  • and his vigilance enabled me to sleep at times in something like peace.
  • The little pink sloth-thing became shy and left me, to crawl back
  • to its natural life once more among the tree-branches. We were in just
  • the state of equilibrium that would remain in one of those "Happy Family"
  • cages which animal-tamers exhibit, if the tamer were to leave it
  • for ever.
  • Of course these creatures did not decline into such beasts as
  • the reader has seen in zoological gardens,--into ordinary bears,
  • wolves, tigers, oxen, swine, and apes. There was still something
  • strange about each; in each Moreau had blended this animal with that.
  • One perhaps was ursine chiefly, another feline chiefly, another
  • bovine chiefly; but each was tainted with other creatures,--a kind
  • of generalised animalism appearing through the specific dispositions.
  • And the dwindling shreds of the humanity still startled me every
  • now and then,--a momentary recrudescence of speech perhaps,
  • an unexpected dexterity of the fore-feet, a pitiful attempt to
  • walk erect.
  • I too must have undergone strange changes. My clothes hung about
  • me as yellow rags, through whose rents showed the tanned skin.
  • My hair grew long, and became matted together. I am told that
  • even now my eyes have a strange brightness, a swift alertness
  • of movement.
  • At first I spent the daylight hours on the southward beach
  • watching for a ship, hoping and praying for a ship.
  • I counted on the "Ipecacuanha" returning as the year wore on;
  • but she never came. Five times I saw sails, and thrice smoke;
  • but nothing ever touched the island. I always had a bonfire ready,
  • but no doubt the volcanic reputation of the island was taken to account
  • for that.
  • It was only about September or October that I began to think of making
  • a raft. By that time my arm had healed, and both my hands were at
  • my service again. At first, I found my helplessness appalling.
  • I had never done any carpentry or such-like work in my life, and I spent
  • day after day in experimental chopping and binding among the trees.
  • I had no ropes, and could hit on nothing wherewith to make ropes;
  • none of the abundant creepers seemed limber or strong enough,
  • and with all my litter of scientific education I could not devise
  • any way of making them so. I spent more than a fortnight
  • grubbing among the black ruins of the enclosure and on
  • the beach where the boats had been burnt, looking for nails
  • and other stray pieces of metal that might prove of service.
  • Now and then some Beast-creature would watch me, and go leaping
  • off when I called to it. There came a season of thunder-storms
  • and heavy rain, which greatly retarded my work; but at last the raft
  • was completed.
  • I was delighted with it. But with a certain lack of practical sense
  • which has always been my bane, I had made it a mile or more from the sea;
  • and before I had dragged it down to the beach the thing had fallen
  • to pieces. Perhaps it is as well that I was saved from launching it;
  • but at the time my misery at my failure was so acute that for some
  • days I simply moped on the beach, and stared at the water and thought
  • of death.
  • I did not, however, mean to die, and an incident occurred that warned
  • me unmistakably of the folly of letting the days pass so,--for each
  • fresh day was fraught with increasing danger from the Beast People.
  • I was lying in the shade of the enclosure wall, staring out to sea,
  • when I was startled by something cold touching the skin of my heel,
  • and starting round found the little pink sloth-creature blinking
  • into my face. He had long since lost speech and active movement,
  • and the lank hair of the little brute grew thicker every day and his
  • stumpy claws more askew. He made a moaning noise when he saw he had
  • attracted my attention, went a little way towards the bushes and looked
  • back at me.
  • At first I did not understand, but presently it occurred to me that
  • he wished me to follow him; and this I did at last,--slowly, for the day
  • was hot. When we reached the trees he clambered into them, for he could
  • travel better among their swinging creepers than on the ground.
  • And suddenly in a trampled space I came upon a ghastly group.
  • My Saint-Bernard-creature lay on the ground, dead; and near
  • his body crouched the Hyena-swine, gripping the quivering flesh
  • with its misshapen claws, gnawing at it, and snarling with delight.
  • As I approached, the monster lifted its glaring eyes to mine,
  • its lips went trembling back from its red-stained teeth,
  • and it growled menacingly. It was not afraid and not ashamed;
  • the last vestige of the human taint had vanished. I advanced a step
  • farther, stopped, and pulled out my revolver. At last I had him face
  • to face.
  • The brute made no sign of retreat; but its ears went back,
  • its hair bristled, and its body crouched together.
  • I aimed between the eyes and fired. As I did so, the Thing rose
  • straight at me in a leap, and I was knocked over like a ninepin.
  • It clutched at me with its crippled hand, and struck me in the face.
  • Its spring carried it over me. I fell under the hind part of its body;
  • but luckily I had hit as I meant, and it had died even as it leapt.
  • I crawled out from under its unclean weight and stood up trembling,
  • staring at its quivering body. That danger at least was over;
  • but this, I knew was only the first of the series of relapses that
  • must come.
  • I burnt both of the bodies on a pyre of brushwood; but after that I saw
  • that unless I left the island my death was only a question of time.
  • The Beast People by that time had, with one or two exceptions,
  • left the ravine and made themselves lairs according to their taste
  • among the thickets of the island. Few prowled by day, most of
  • them slept, and the island might have seemed deserted to a new-comer;
  • but at night the air was hideous with their calls and howling.
  • I had half a mind to make a massacre of them; to build traps,
  • or fight them with my knife. Had I possessed sufficient cartridges,
  • I should not have hesitated to begin the killing. There could
  • now be scarcely a score left of the dangerous carnivores;
  • the braver of these were already dead. After the death of this poor
  • dog of mine, my last friend, I too adopted to some extent the practice
  • of slumbering in the daytime in order to be on my guard at night.
  • I rebuilt my den in the walls of the enclosure, with such a narrow
  • opening that anything attempting to enter must necessarily make
  • a considerable noise. The creatures had lost the art of fire too,
  • and recovered their fear of it. I turned once more, almost passionately
  • now, to hammering together stakes and branches to form a raft for
  • my escape.
  • I found a thousand difficulties. I am an extremely unhandy man
  • (my schooling was over before the days of Slojd); but most
  • of the requirements of a raft I met at last in some clumsy,
  • circuitous way or other, and this time I took care of the strength.
  • The only insurmountable obstacle was that I had no vessel to contain
  • the water I should need if I floated forth upon these untravelled seas.
  • I would have even tried pottery, but the island contained no clay.
  • I used to go moping about the island trying with all my might
  • to solve this one last difficulty. Sometimes I would give
  • way to wild outbursts of rage, and hack and splinter some
  • unlucky tree in my intolerable vexation. But I could think
  • of nothing.
  • And then came a day, a wonderful day, which I spent in ecstasy.
  • I saw a sail to the southwest, a small sail like that of a little schooner;
  • and forthwith I lit a great pile of brushwood, and stood by it in
  • the heat of it, and the heat of the midday sun, watching. All day I
  • watched that sail, eating or drinking nothing, so that my head reeled;
  • and the Beasts came and glared at me, and seemed to wonder,
  • and went away. It was still distant when night came and swallowed
  • it up; and all night I toiled to keep my blaze bright and high,
  • and the eyes of the Beasts shone out of the darkness, marvelling.
  • In the dawn the sail was nearer, and I saw it was the dirty
  • lug-sail of a small boat. But it sailed strangely. My eyes were
  • weary with watching, and I peered and could not believe them.
  • Two men were in the boat, sitting low down,--one by the bows,
  • the other at the rudder. The head was not kept to the wind; it yawed and
  • fell away.
  • As the day grew brighter, I began waving the last rag of my jacket to them;
  • but they did not notice me, and sat still, facing each other. I went
  • to the lowest point of the low headland, and gesticulated and shouted.
  • There was no response, and the boat kept on her aimless course,
  • making slowly, very slowly, for the bay. Suddenly a great white bird
  • flew up out of the boat, and neither of the men stirred nor noticed it;
  • it circled round, and then came sweeping overhead with its strong
  • wings outspread.
  • Then I stopped shouting, and sat down on the headland and rested my chin
  • on my hands and stared. Slowly, slowly, the boat drove past towards
  • the west. I would have swum out to it, but something--a cold, vague
  • fear--kept me back. In the afternoon the tide stranded the boat, and left
  • it a hundred yards or so to the westward of the ruins of the enclosure.
  • The men in it were dead, had been dead so long that they fell
  • to pieces when I tilted the boat on its side and dragged them out.
  • One had a shock of red hair, like the captain of the "Ipecacuanha," and
  • a dirty white cap lay in the bottom of the boat.
  • As I stood beside the boat, three of the Beasts came slinking
  • out of the bushes and sniffing towards me. One of my spasms
  • of disgust came upon me. I thrust the little boat down the beach
  • and clambered on board her. Two of the brutes were Wolf-beasts,
  • and came forward with quivering nostrils and glittering eyes;
  • the third was the horrible nondescript of bear and bull.
  • When I saw them approaching those wretched remains, heard them
  • snarling at one another and caught the gleam of their teeth,
  • a frantic horror succeeded my repulsion. I turned my back upon them,
  • struck the lug and began paddling out to sea. I could not bring myself
  • to look behind me.
  • I lay, however, between the reef and the island that night,
  • and the next morning went round to the stream and filled the empty
  • keg aboard with water. Then, with such patience as I could command,
  • I collected a quantity of fruit, and waylaid and killed two rabbits
  • with my last three cartridges. While I was doing this I left
  • the boat moored to an inward projection of the reef, for fear
  • of the Beast People.
  • XXII. THE MAN ALONE.
  • IN the evening I started, and drove out to sea before a gentle wind
  • from the southwest, slowly, steadily; and the island grew smaller
  • and smaller, and the lank spire of smoke dwindled to a finer and
  • finer line against the hot sunset. The ocean rose up around me,
  • hiding that low, dark patch from my eyes. The daylight, the trailing
  • glory of the sun, went streaming out of the sky, was drawn aside
  • like some luminous curtain, and at last I looked into the blue
  • gulf of immensity which the sunshine hides, and saw the floating
  • hosts of the stars. The sea was silent, the sky was silent.
  • I was alone with the night and silence.
  • So I drifted for three days, eating and drinking sparingly, and meditating
  • upon all that had happened to me,--not desiring very greatly then to see
  • men again. One unclean rag was about me, my hair a black tangle:
  • no doubt my discoverers thought me a madman.
  • It is strange, but I felt no desire to return to mankind.
  • I was only glad to be quit of the foulness of the Beast People.
  • And on the third day I was picked up by a brig from Apia to San Francisco.
  • Neither the captain nor the mate would believe my story, judging that
  • solitude and danger had made me mad; and fearing their opinion might
  • be that of others, I refrained from telling my adventure further,
  • and professed to recall nothing that had happened to me between
  • the loss of the "Lady Vain" and the time when I was picked up again,--the
  • space of a year.
  • I had to act with the utmost circumspection to save myself from the
  • suspicion of insanity. My memory of the Law, of the two dead sailors,
  • of the ambuscades of the darkness, of the body in the canebrake,
  • haunted me; and, unnatural as it seems, with my return to mankind came,
  • instead of that confidence and sympathy I had expected, a strange
  • enhancement of the uncertainty and dread I had experienced
  • during my stay upon the island. No one would believe me;
  • I was almost as queer to men as I had been to the Beast People.
  • I may have caught something of the natural wildness of my companions.
  • They say that terror is a disease, and anyhow I can witness that for
  • several years now a restless fear has dwelt in my mind,--such a restless
  • fear as a half-tamed lion cub may feel.
  • My trouble took the strangest form. I could not persuade myself
  • that the men and women I met were not also another Beast People,
  • animals half wrought into the outward image of human souls, and that they
  • would presently begin to revert,--to show first this bestial mark
  • and then that. But I have confided my case to a strangely able
  • man,--a man who had known Moreau, and seemed half to credit my story;
  • a mental specialist,--and he has helped me mightily, though I do not
  • expect that the terror of that island will ever altogether leave me.
  • At most times it lies far in the back of my mind, a mere distant cloud,
  • a memory, and a faint distrust; but there are times when the little
  • cloud spreads until it obscures the whole sky. Then I look about me
  • at my fellow-men; and I go in fear. I see faces, keen and bright;
  • others dull or dangerous; others, unsteady, insincere,--none that
  • have the calm authority of a reasonable soul. I feel as though
  • the animal was surging up through them; that presently the degradation
  • of the Islanders will be played over again on a larger scale.
  • I know this is an illusion; that these seeming men and women about
  • me are indeed men and women,--men and women for ever, perfectly
  • reasonable creatures, full of human desires and tender solicitude,
  • emancipated from instinct and the slaves of no fantastic
  • Law,--beings altogether different from the Beast Folk. Yet I shrink
  • from them, from their curious glances, their inquiries and assistance,
  • and long to be away from them and alone. For that reason I live near
  • the broad free downland, and can escape thither when this shadow
  • is over my soul; and very sweet is the empty downland then, under the
  • wind-swept sky.
  • When I lived in London the horror was well-nigh insupportable.
  • I could not get away from men: their voices came through windows;
  • locked doors were flimsy safeguards. I would go out into the streets
  • to fight with my delusion, and prowling women would mew after me;
  • furtive, craving men glance jealously at me; weary, pale workers
  • go coughing by me with tired eyes and eager paces, like wounded
  • deer dripping blood; old people, bent and dull, pass murmuring
  • to themselves; and, all unheeding, a ragged tail of gibing children.
  • Then I would turn aside into some chapel,--and even there,
  • such was my disturbance, it seemed that the preacher gibbered
  • "Big Thinks," even as the Ape-man had done; or into some library,
  • and there the intent faces over the books seemed but patient
  • creatures waiting for prey. Particularly nauseous were the blank,
  • expressionless faces of people in trains and omnibuses;
  • they seemed no more my fellow-creatures than dead bodies would be,
  • so that I did not dare to travel unless I was assured of being alone.
  • And even it seemed that I too was not a reasonable creature,
  • but only an animal tormented with some strange disorder in its
  • brain which sent it to wander alone, like a sheep stricken
  • with gid.
  • This is a mood, however, that comes to me now, I thank God,
  • more rarely. I have withdrawn myself from the confusion of cities
  • and multitudes, and spend my days surrounded by wise books,--bright
  • windows in this life of ours, lit by the shining souls of men.
  • I see few strangers, and have but a small household.
  • My days I devote to reading and to experiments in chemistry,
  • and I spend many of the clear nights in the study of astronomy.
  • There is--though I do not know how there is or why there is--a sense
  • of infinite peace and protection in the glittering hosts of heaven.
  • There it must be, I think, in the vast and eternal laws of matter,
  • and not in the daily cares and sins and troubles of men, that whatever
  • is more than animal within us must find its solace and its hope. I hope,
  • or I could not live.
  • And so, in hope and solitude, my story ends.
  • EDWARD PRENDICK.
  • NOTE. The substance of the chapter entitled "Doctor Moreau explains,"
  • which contains the essential idea of the story, appeared as a middle
  • article in the "Saturday Review" in January, 1895. This is
  • the only portion of this story that has been previously published,
  • and it has been entirely recast to adapt it to the narrative form.
  • End of Project Gutenberg's The Island of Doctor Moreau, by H. G. Wells
  • *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU ***
  • ***** This file should be named 159.txt or 159.zip *****
  • This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
  • http://www.gutenberg.net/1/5/159/
  • This etext was created by Judith Boss, of Omaha, Nebraska, from the
  • Garden City Publishing Company, 1896 edition, and first posted in
  • August, 1994. Minor corrections made by Andrew Sly in October, 2004.
  • Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
  • will be renamed.
  • Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
  • one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
  • (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
  • permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
  • set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
  • copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
  • protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
  • Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
  • charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
  • do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
  • rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
  • such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
  • research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
  • practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
  • subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
  • redistribution.
  • *** START: FULL LICENSE ***
  • THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
  • PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
  • To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
  • distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
  • (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
  • Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
  • Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
  • http://gutenberg.net/license).
  • Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
  • electronic works
  • 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
  • electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
  • and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
  • (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
  • the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
  • all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
  • If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
  • Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
  • terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
  • entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
  • 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
  • used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
  • agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
  • things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
  • even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
  • paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
  • Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
  • and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
  • works. See paragraph 1.E below.
  • 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
  • or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
  • Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
  • collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
  • individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
  • located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
  • copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
  • works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
  • are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
  • Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
  • freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
  • this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
  • the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
  • keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
  • Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
  • 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
  • what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
  • a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
  • the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
  • before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
  • creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
  • Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
  • the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
  • States.
  • 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
  • 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
  • access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
  • whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
  • phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
  • Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
  • copied or distributed:
  • This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
  • almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
  • re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
  • with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
  • 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
  • from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
  • posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
  • and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
  • or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
  • with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
  • work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
  • through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
  • Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
  • 1.E.9.
  • 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
  • with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
  • must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
  • terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
  • to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
  • permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
  • 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
  • License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
  • work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
  • 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
  • electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
  • prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
  • active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
  • Gutenberg-tm License.
  • 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
  • compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
  • word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
  • distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
  • "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
  • posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),
  • you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
  • copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
  • request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
  • form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
  • License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
  • 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
  • performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
  • unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
  • 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
  • access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
  • that
  • - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
  • the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
  • you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
  • owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
  • has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
  • Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
  • must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
  • prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
  • returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
  • sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
  • address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
  • the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
  • - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
  • you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
  • does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
  • License. You must require such a user to return or
  • destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
  • and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
  • Project Gutenberg-tm works.
  • - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
  • money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
  • electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
  • of receipt of the work.
  • - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
  • distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
  • 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
  • electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
  • forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
  • both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
  • Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
  • Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
  • 1.F.
  • 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
  • effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
  • public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
  • collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
  • works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
  • "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
  • corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
  • property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
  • computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
  • your equipment.
  • 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
  • of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
  • Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
  • Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
  • Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
  • liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
  • fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
  • LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
  • PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
  • TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
  • LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
  • INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
  • DAMAGE.
  • 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
  • defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
  • receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
  • written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
  • received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
  • your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
  • the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
  • refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
  • providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
  • receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
  • is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
  • opportunities to fix the problem.
  • 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
  • in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
  • WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
  • WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
  • 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
  • warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
  • If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
  • law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
  • interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
  • the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
  • provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
  • 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
  • trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
  • providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
  • with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
  • promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
  • harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
  • that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
  • or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
  • work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
  • Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
  • Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
  • Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
  • electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
  • including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
  • because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
  • people in all walks of life.
  • Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
  • assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
  • goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
  • remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
  • Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
  • and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
  • To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
  • and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
  • and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
  • Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
  • Foundation
  • The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
  • 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
  • state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
  • Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
  • number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
  • http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
  • Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
  • permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
  • The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
  • Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
  • throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
  • 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
  • business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
  • information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
  • page at http://pglaf.org
  • For additional contact information:
  • Dr. Gregory B. Newby
  • Chief Executive and Director
  • gbnewby@pglaf.org
  • Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
  • Literary Archive Foundation
  • Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
  • spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
  • increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
  • freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
  • array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
  • ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
  • status with the IRS.
  • The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
  • charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
  • States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
  • considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
  • with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
  • where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
  • SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
  • particular state visit http://pglaf.org
  • While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
  • have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
  • against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
  • approach us with offers to donate.
  • International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
  • any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
  • outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
  • Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
  • methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
  • ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
  • donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
  • Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
  • works.
  • Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
  • concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
  • with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
  • Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
  • Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
  • editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
  • unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
  • keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
  • Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
  • http://www.gutenberg.net
  • This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
  • including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
  • Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
  • subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.