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17 - The Island of Dr Moreau - H G Wells · Science Fiction Books - Daily

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  Seventeen, a catastrophe. Scarcely six weeks passed before I had lost every feeling
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  but dislike and abhorrence for this infamous experiment of morose. My one idea was
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  to get away from these horrible caricatures of my maker's image, back to the
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  sweet and wholesome intercourse of men. My fellow creatures from whom I was thus
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  separated, began to assume my dilic virtue and beauty. In my memory,
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  my first friendship with Montgomery did not increase. His long separation from humanity,
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  his secret vice of drunkenness, his evident sympathy with the beast people tainted in
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  to me. Several times I let him go alone among them. I avoided
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  intercourse with them in every possible way. I spent an increasing proportion of my
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  time upon the beach looking for some liberating sail that never appeared, until one
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  day there fell upon us an appalling disaster which put an altogether different aspect upon
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  my strange surroundings. It was about seven or eight weeks after my landing.
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  Rather more, I think, though I had not troubled to keep account of
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  the time when this catastrophe occurred, it happened in the early morning, I
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  should think about six. I had risen and breakfasted early, having been aroused
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  by the noise of three beast men carrying wood into the enclosure. After breakfast,
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  I went to the open gateway of the enclosure and stood there, smoking
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  a cigarette and enjoying the freshness of the early morning. Moreau presently came round
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  the corner of the enclosure and greeted me. He passed by me, and
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  I heard him behind me in lock and into his laboratory. So indurated was
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  I at that time to the abomination of the place that I heard, without
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  a touch of emotion, the puma victim begin another day of torture. It
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  met its persecutor with a shriek, almost exactly like that of an angry virago.
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  Then suddenly something happened. I do not know what to this day.
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  I heard a short, sharp cry behind me, a fall, and turning
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  saw an awful face rushing upon me, not human, not animal, but
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  hellish, brown, seamed with red branching scars, red drops starting out upon
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  it, and the lidless eyes ablaze. I threw up my arm to defend
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  myself from the blow that flung me headlong with a broken forearm, and the
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  great monster, swathed in lint and with red stained bandages fluttering about. It
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  leaped over me and passed. I rolled over and over down the beach,
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  tried to sit up, and collapsed upon my broken arm. Then Moreau appeared,
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  his massive white face, all the more terrible for the blood that trickled
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  from his forehead. He carried a revolver in one hand. He scarcely glanced
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  at me, but rushed off at once in pursuit of the puma. I
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  tried the other arm and sat up. The muffled figure in front ran in
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  great striding leaps along the beach, and Moreau followed her. She turned her
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  head and saw him, then, doubling, abruptly, made for the bushes.
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  She gained upon him at every stride. I saw her plunge into them,
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  and Moreau, running slantingly to intercept her, fired and missed as she
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  disappeared. Then he too vanished in the green confusion. I stared after them,
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  and then the pain in my arm flamed up, and with a groan,
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  I staggered to my feet. Montgomery appeared in the doorway, dressed and
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  with his revolver in his hand. Great God, prendick, he said,
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  not noticing that I was hurt. That bruth Luth tore the fetter out of
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  the wall. Have you seen them? Then? Sharply seeing I gripped my
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  arm. What's the matter? I was standing in the doorway, said I.
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  He came forward and took my arm. Blood on the leave, said
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  he, and rolled back the flannel. He pocketed his weapon, felt my
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  arm about painfully, and led me inside. Your arm is broken, he
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  said, And then tell me exactly how it happened. What happened? I
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  told him what I had seen, told him in broken sentences, with gasps
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  of pain between them, and very dexterously and swiftly he bound my arm.
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  Meanwhile, he slap it from my shoulder, stood back and looked at me.
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  You'll do, he said, And now he thought. Then he went
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  out and locked the gates of the enclosure. He was absent some time.
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  I was chiefly concerned about my arm. The incident seen merely one more of
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  many horrible things. I sat down in the deck chair, and I must
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  admit, swore heartily at the island. The first all feeling of injury in
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  my arm had already given way to a burning pain. When Montgomery reappeared,
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  his face was rather pale, and he showed more of his lower gums than
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  ever. I can neither thiegh nor hear anything of him, he said,
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  I've been thinking he may want my help. He stared at me with his
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  expressionless eyes. That was a strong brute, he said, simply wrenched its
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  fetter out of the wall. He went to the window, then to the
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  door, and there turned to me. I shall go after him. He
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  said that another revolver I can leave with you to tell you the truth.
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  I feel anxious somehow. He obtained the weapon and put it ready to my
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  hand on the table, then went out, leaving a restless contagion in the
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  air. I did not sit long after he left, but took the revolver
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  in hand and went to the doorway. The morning was as still as death.
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  Not a whisper of wind was stirring. The sea was like polished glass,
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  the sky empty, the beach desolate. In my half excited, half
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  feverish state, this stillness of things oppressed me. I tried to whistle,
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  and the tune died away. I swore again the second time that morning.
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  Then I went to the corner of the enclosure and stared inland at the green
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  bush that had swallowed up Moreau and Montgomery. When would they return? And
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  howl? Then, far away up the beach, a little gray beast man
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  appeared, ran down to the water's edge and began splashing about. I strolled
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  back to the doorway, then to the corner again, and so began pacing
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  to and fro, like a sentinel upon duty. Once I was arrested by
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  the distant voice of Montgomery, bawling Couie Moreau. My arm became less painful
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  but very hot. I got feverish and thirsty. My shadow grew shorter.
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  I watched the distant figure until it went away again. Would Moreau and Montgomery
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  never return? Three sea birds began fighting for some stranded treasure. Then,
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  from far away behind the enclosure, I heard a pistol shot, a long
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  silence, and then came another, Then a yelling cry nearer, and another
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  dismal gap of silence. My unfortunate imagination set to work to torment me.
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  Then suddenly a shot close by. I went to the corner, startled,
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  and saw Montgomery, his face scarlet, his hair disordered, and the knee
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  of his trousers torn, his face expressed profound consternation. Behind him slouched the
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  beast man, imbling and round imling's jaws were some queer dark stains. Hath
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  he come? Said Montgomery. Moreau said, I no, my god.
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  The man was panting, almost sobbing. Go back in, he said,
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  taking my arm. They're mad, They're all rushling about mad. What can
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  have happened? I don't know. I'll tell you when my breath comes.
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  Where thumb brandy. Montgomery limped before me into the room and sat down in
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  the deck chair. Emlin flung himself down just outside the doorway and began panting
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  like a dog. I got Montgomery some brandy and water. He sat staring
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  in front of him at nothing, recovering his breath. After some minutes he
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  began to tell me what had happened. He had followed their track for some
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  way. It was plain enough at first, on account of the crushed and
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  broken bushes, white rags torn from the puma's bandages, and occasional smears of
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  blood on the leaves of the shrubs and undergrowth. He lost track, However,
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  on the stony ground beyond the stream, where I had seen the beast
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  man drinking and went wandering aimlessly westward, shouting Moreau's name. Then Imling had
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  come to him carrying a light hatchet. Imling had seen nothing of the puma
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  affair, had been felling wood and heard him calling. They went on shouting
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  together. Two beast men came, crouching and peering at them through the undergrowth,
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  with gestures and a furtive carriage that alarmed Montgomery by their strangeness. He
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  hailed them, and they fled guiltily. He stopped shouting after that, and,
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  after wandering some time farther in an undecided way, determined to visit the
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  huts. He found the ravine deserted, growing more alarmed every minute, he
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  began to retrace his steps. Then it was he encountered the two swine men
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  I had seen dancing on the night of my arrival. Blood Stained, they
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  were about the mouth and intensely excited. They came rashing through the ferns and
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  stopped with fierce faces when they saw him. He cracked his whip in some
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  trepidation, and forthwith they rushed at him. Never before had a beast man
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  dared to do that. One he shot through the head. Imling flung himself
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  upon the other, and the two rolled grappling. Imling got his brute under
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  and with his teeth in its throat, and Montgomery shot that too, as
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  it struggled in Imling's grip. He had some difficulty in inducing Imling to come
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  on with him. Thence they had hurried back to me. On the way,
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  Imling had suddenly rushed into a thicket and driven out an undersized ocelot man,
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  also blood stained and lame through a wound in the foot. This brute
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  had run a little way and then turned savagely at Bay and Montgomery with a
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  certain wantonness I thought had shot him. What does it all mean? Said
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  I. He shook his head and turned once more to the brandy.