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

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Nineteen Montgomery's bank holiday. When this was accomplished and we had washed in Eton,
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Montgomery and I went into my little room and seriously discussed our position for
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the first time. It was then near midnight. He was almost sober,
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but greatly disturbed in his mind. He had been strangely under the influence of
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Moreau's personality. I do not think it had ever occurred to him that Moreau
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could die. This disaster was the sudden collapse of the habits that had become
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part of his nature in the tin or more monotonous years he had spent on
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the island. He talked vaguely, answered my questions crookedly, wandered into general
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questions. The silly ass of a world, he said, what a muddle
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it all is. I haven't heard any life. I wonder when it's going
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to begin. Sixteen years of being bullied by nurses and schoolmath turth at their
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own sweet will five in London, grinding hard at madicine, bad food,
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shabby lodgings, shabby clothes, shabby vice, A blunder. I didn't know
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any better, and hustled off to this Beethly island ten yearth here, what
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it all for Preddick, are we bubbles blown by a baby? It was
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hard to deal with such ravings. The thing we have to think of now,
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said I, is how to get away from this island. What's the
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good of getting away? I'm an outcast. Where am I to join on?
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It's all very well for you, Prendick, poor old Moreau. We
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can't leave him here to have his bones picked as it is. And besides,
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what will become of the death and part of the beast folk, well,
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said I, that will do tomorrow. I've been thinking we might make
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the brushwood into a pyre and burn his body and those other things. Then
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what will happen with the beast folk? I don't know. I suppose those
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that will made beasts of prey we'll make thilly aths of themselves. Sooner or
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later. We can't maffacre the lot, can we. I suppose that's what
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your humanity would suggest. But they'll change. They are sure to change.
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He talked thus inconclusively, until at last I felt my temper going dar nation,
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he exclaimed, at some petulance of mine. Can't you see I'm in
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a worth whole than you are? Ut up and went for the brandy drink.
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He said, returning you logic chopping chalky faith, think of an atheist.
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Drink not, I said I, and sat grimly, watching his face
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under the yellow paraffin flare as he drank himself into a garrulous misery. I
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have a memory of infinite tedium. He wandered into a model in defense of
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the beast people and of Imling. Imling, he said, was the only
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thing that had ever really cared for him, And suddenly an idea came to
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him. I'm damned, said he, staggering to his feet and clutching the
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brandy bottle. By some flash of intuition, I knew what it was he
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intended. You don't give drink to that beast, I said, rising and
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facing him. Beast said he you're the beast. He taketh hith liquor like
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a Christian. Come out of my way, prindic, for God's sake,
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said I. Get out of the way. He roared, and suddenly whipped
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out his revolver. Very well, said I, and stood aside, half
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minded to fall upon him as he put his hand upon the latch, but
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deterred by the thought of my useless arm. You've made a beast of yourself
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to the beasts. You may go. He flung the doorway open and stood
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half facing me between the yellow lamp light and the pallid glare of the moon.
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His eye sockets were blotches of black under his stubbly eyebrows. You're a
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solemn prig, prindick, a thiliath. You're always fearing and fancying. We're
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on thee hedge of things. I'm bound to cut my throat tomorrow. I'm
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going to have a damned bank holiday to night. He turned and went out
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into the moonlight. Yim Ling, he cried, jim Ling, old friend.
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Three dim creatures in the silvery light came along the edge of the wan
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beach, one a white wrapped creature, the other two blotches of blackness following
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it. They halted, staring. Then I saw Imling's hunched shoulders as he
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came round the corner of the house. Drink, cried Montgomery. Drink,
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you bruthe drink and be man. Damn, I'm the cleverest Moreau forgot this.
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This is the last touch drink, I tell you, And waving the
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bottle in his hand, he started off at a kind of quick trot to
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the westward, Imbling, ranging himself between him and the three dim creatures who
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followed. I went to the doorway. They were already indistinct in the midst
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of the moonlight. Before Montgomery halted. I saw him in minister a dose
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of the raw brandy to Imbling, and saw the five figures melt into one
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vague patch thing. I heard Montgomery shout, sing all together. Confound Old
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Prendick. That's right now again, confound Old Prendick. The black group broke
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up into five separate figures and wound slowly away from me along the band of
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shining beach. Each went howling at his own sweet will yelping insults at me,
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or giving whatever other vent this new inspiration of brandy demanded. Presently,
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I heard Montgomery's voice shouting right, turn, and they passed with their shouts
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and howls into the blackness of the landward trees. Slowly, very slowly,
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they receded into silence. The peaceful splendor of the night healed again. The
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moon was now past the meridian, and traveling down the west, it was
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at its full and very bright. Riding through the empty blue sky, the
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shadow of the wall lay a yard wide and of inky blackness. At my
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feet. The eastward sea was a featureless, gray, dark and mysterious.
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And between the sea and the shadow, the gray sands of volcanic glass and
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crystals flashed and shone like a beach of diamonds. Behind me, the paraffine
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lamp flared hot and ruddy. Then I shut the door, locked it,
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and went into the enclosure, where Moreau lay beside his latest victims, the
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staghounds and the Lama and some other wretched brutes, with his massive face calm
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even after his terrible death, and with his hard eyes open staring at the
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dead white moon above, I sat down upon the edge of the sink,
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and with my eyes upon that ghastly pile of silvery light and ominous shadows,
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began to turn over my plans. In the morning, I would gather some
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provisions in the dinghy, and after setting fire to the pyre before me,
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push out into the desolation of the high sea. Once more, I felt
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that for Montgomery there was no help, that he was, in truth half
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akin to these beast folk, unfitted for human kindred. I do not know
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how long I sat there, scheming, It must have been an hour or
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so. Then my planning was interrupted by the return of Montgomery to my neighborhood.
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I heard a yelling from many throats, a tumult of exultant cries passing
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down towards the beach, whooping and howling, and excited shrieks that seemed to
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come to a stop near the water's edge. The riot rose and fell.
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I heard heavy blows and the splintering smash of wood, but it did not
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trouble me. Then a discordant chanting began. My thoughts went back to my
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means of escape. I got up, brought the lamp, and went into
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a shed to look at some kegs I had seen there. Then I became
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interested in the contents of some biscuit tins and opened one. I saw something
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out of the tail of my eye, a red figure, and turned sharply.
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Behind me. Lay the yard, vividly black and white in the moonlight,
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and the pile of wood and faggots on which Moreau and his mutilated victims
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lay one over another. They seemed to be gripping one another in one last
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revengeful grapple. His wounds gaped black as night, and the blood that had
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dripped lay in black patches upon the sand. Then I saw, without understanding
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the cause of my phantom, a ruddy glow that came and danced and went
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upon the wall opposite. I misinterpreted this, fancied it was a reflection of
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my flickering lamp, and turned again to the stalls in the shed. I
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went on rummaging among them as well as a one armed man could, finding
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this convenient thing and that, and putting them aside for tomorrow's launch. My
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movements were slow, and the time passed quickly. Insensibly, the daylight crept
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upon me. The chanting died down, giving place to a clamor. Then
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it began again, and suddenly broke into a tumult. I heard cries of
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more more, a sound like quarreling, and a sudden wild Shrieky of the
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sounds changed so greatly that it arrested my attention. I went out into the
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yard and listened. Then, cutting like a knife across the confusion, came
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the crack of a revolver. I rushed at once through my room to the
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little doorway. As I did so, I heard some of the packing cases
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behind me go sliding down and smashed together with a clatter of glass on the
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floor of the shed, but I did not heat these. I flung the
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door open and looked out up the beach. By the boat house, a
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bonfire was burning, raining up sparks into the indistinctness of the dawn. Around
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this struggled a mass of black figures. I heard Montgomery call my name.
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I began to run at once towards this fire, revolver in hand, I
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saw the pink tongue of Montgomery's pistol lick out. Once close to the ground,
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he was down. I shouted with all my strength and fired into the
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air. I heard someone cry. The mass stir. The knotted black struggle
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broken to scattering units. The fire leaped and sank down. The crowd of
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beast people fled in sudden panic before me up the beach. In my excitement,
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I fired at their retreating backs as they disappeared among the bushes. Then
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I turned to the black heaps upon the ground. Montgomery lay on his back,
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with a hairy gray beast man sprawling across his body. The brute was
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dead, but still gripping Montgomery's throat with its curving claws. Near By lay
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himbling on his face and quite still, his neck bitten open, and the
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upper part of the smashed brandy bottle in his hand. Two other figures lay
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near the fire, the one motionless, the other groaning fitfully every now and
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then, raising its head slowly, then dropping it again. I caught hold
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of the gray man and pulled him off Montgomery's body. His claws drew down
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the torn coat reluctantly as I dragged him away. Montgomery was dark in the
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face and scarcely breathing. I splashed sea water on his face and pillowed his
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head on my rolled up coat. Imling was dead. The wounded creature by
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the fire. It was a wolf brute with a bearded gray face. Lay
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I found with the fore part of its body upon the still glowing timber.
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The wretched thing was injured so dreadfully that in mercy I blew its brains out
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at once. The other brute was one of the bull men, swathed in
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white. He too was dead. The rest of the beast people had vanished
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from the beach. I went to Montgomery again and knelt beside him, cursing
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my ignorance of medicine. The fire beside me had sunk down, and only
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charred beams of timber glowing at the central ends, and mixed of the gray
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ash of brushwood remained. I wondered casually where Montgomery had got his wood.
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Then I saw that the dawn was upon us. The sky had grown brighter,
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The setting moon was becoming pale and opaque in the luminous blue of the
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day. The sky to the eastward was rimmed with red. Suddenly I heard
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a thud and a hissing behind me, and looking round, sprang to my
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feet with a cry of horror. Against the warm dawn, great tumultuous masses
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of black smoke were boiling up out of the enclosure, and through their stormy
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darkness shot flickering threads of blood red flame. Then the thatched roof caught I
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saw the curving charge of the flames across the sloping straw. A spurt of
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fire jetted from the window of my room. I knew at once what had
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happened. I remembered the crash I had heard when I had rushed out to
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Montgomery's assistance. I had overturned the lamp. The hopelessness of saving any of
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the contents of the enclosure stared me in the face. My mind came back
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to my plan of flight, and turning swiftly, I looked to see where
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the two boats lay upon the beach. They were gone. Two axes lay
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upon the sands beside me. Chips and splinters were scattered broadcast, and the
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ashes of the bonfire were blackening and smoking under the dawn. Montgomery had burnt
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the boats to revenge himself upon me and prevent our return to mankind. A
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sudden convulsion of rage shook me. I was almost moved to batter his foolish
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head in as he lay there helpless at my feet. Then suddenly his hand
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moved so feebly, so pitifully, that my wrath vanished. He groaned and
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opened his eyes. For a minute. I knelt down beside him and raised
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his head. He opened his eyes again, staring silently at the dawn,
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and then they met mine. The lids fell sorry, he said, presently,
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with an effort he seemed trying to think. The laughed. He murmured,
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the laugh of this silly universe. What a mess. I listened.
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His head fell helplessly to one side. I thought some drink might revive him,
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But there was neither drink, no vessel in which to bring drink at
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hand. He seemed suddenly heavier. My heart went cold. I bent down
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to his face, put my hand through the rent in his blouse. He
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was dead, and even as he died, a line of white heat.
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The limb of the sun rose eastward beyond the projection of the bay, splashing
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its radiance across the sky and turning the dark sea into a weltering tumult of
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dazzling light. It fell like a glory upon his death, shrunken face.
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I let his head fall gently upon the rough pillow I had made for him,
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and stood up. Before me was the glittering desolation of the sea,
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the awful solitude upon which I had already suffered so much. Behind me,
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the island hushed under the dawn, its beast people silent and unseen. The
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Enclosia, with all its provisions and ammunition, burnt noisily with sudden gusts of
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flame, a fitful crackling, and now and then a crash. The heavy
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smoke drove up the beach away from me, rolling low over the distant treetops
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towards the huts in the ravine. Beside me were the charred vestiges of the
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boats, and these five dead bodies then out of the bushes came three beast
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people with hunched shoulders, protruding heads, misshapen hands, awkwardly held and inquisitive
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unfriendly eyes, and advanced towards me with hesitating gestures