The_island_of_Dr._Moreau/chapters/The Hunting of the man.tex

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.