Island of Dr. Moreau

by H. G. Wells

  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 bloodstained 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 his 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 whiplash, and after some fumbling and hesitation, some whip-cracking and shouting, 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 thencefrom 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 I cried, ‘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, and quickly 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 bloodstains 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 realize, 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 I ought to cross the island and establish myself with the Beast People, making myself secure in their confidence. And 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 a growing 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 impossible 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 assured 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 seabirds, 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 de
struction 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 against so many, 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 let myself fall into a light slumber, trusting 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 was 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 realized 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 realize 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. Further were the thick trees, a bank of black 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 above 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 Bound 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, and 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-humanized 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, of course, and could show some teeth marks still, but they soon gained a wholesome respect for my trick of throwing stones and the bite of my hatchet. And my St Bernard Dog 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 a pre-eminence among them. One or two whom in various disputes 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 cooperate for one end. Again and again I tried to approach his den and come upon him unawares, but always he was too acute for me, and saw or winded me and got away. He made every forest pathway dangerous to me and my allies 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 Ape 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 everyday 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.