The_island_of_Dr._Moreau/chapters/The man who had nowhere to go.tex

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 \emph{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 \emph{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.