THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU. H. G. Wells
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by the appetising smell of it, that I forgot the noise of the beast forthwith.
After a day of alternate sleep and feeding I was so far recovered as to be able to get from my bunk to the scuttle and see the green seas trying to keep pace with us. I judged the schooner was running before the wind. Montgomery — that was the name of the flaxen-haired man — came in again as I stood there, and I asked him for some clothes. He lent me some duck things of his own, for those I had worn in the boat, he said, had been thrown overboard. They were rather loose for me, for he was large and long in his limbs.
He told me casually that the captain was three parts drunk in his own cabin. As I assumed the clothes I began asking him some questions about the destination of the ship. He said the ship was bound for Hawaii, but that it had to land him first.
`Where?’ said I.
`It’s an island…. Where I live. So far as I know, it hasn’t got a name.’
He stared at me with his nether lip dropping, and looked so wilfully stupid of a sudden that it came into my head that he desired to avoid my questions. `I’m ready,’ I said. He lead the way out of the cabin.
CHAPTER 3
THE STRANGE FACE
At the companion was a man obstructing our way. He was standing on the ladder with his back to us, peering over the combing of the hatchway. He was, I could see, a misshapen man, short, broad, and clumsy, with a crooked back, a hairy neck, and a head sunk between his shoulders. He was dressed in dark blue serge, and had peculiarly thick coarse black hair. I heard the unseen dogs growl furiously, and forthwith he ducked back, coming into contact with the hand I put out to fend him off from myself. He turned with animal swiftness.
The black face thus flashed upon me startled me profoundly. It was a singularly deformed one. The facial part projected, forming something dimly suggestive of a muzzle, and the huge half-open mouth showed as big white teeth as I had ever seen in a human mouth. His eyes were bloodshot at the edges, with scarcely a rim of white round the hazel pupils. There was a curious glow of excitement in his face.
`Confound you!’ said Montgomery. Why the devil don’t you get out of the way?’ The blackfaced man started aside without a word.
I went on up the companion, still staring at him almost against my will as I did so. Montgomery stayed at the foot for a moment. `You have no business here, you know,’ he said, in a deliberate tone. `Your place is forward.’
The blackfaced man cowered. `They… won’t have me forward.’ He spoke slowly, with a hoarse quality in his voice.
`Won’t have you forward!’ said Montgomery in a menacing voice. `But I tell you to go.’ He was on the brink of saying something further, then looked up at me suddenly and followed me up the ladder. I had paused halfway through the hatchway, looking back, still astonished beyond measure at the grotesque ugliness of this blackfaced creature. I had never beheld such a repulsive and extraordinary face before, and yet — if the contradiction is credible — I experienced at the same time an odd feeling that in some way I had already encountered exactly the features and gestures that now amazed me. Afterwards it occurred to me that probably I had seen him as I was lifted aboard, and yet that scarcely satisfied my suspicion of a previous acquaintance. Yet how one could have set eyes on so singular a face and have forgotten the precise occasion passed my imagination.
Montgomery’s movement to follow me released my attention, and I turned and looked about me at the flush deck of the little schooner. I was already half prepared by the sounds I had heard for what I saw. Certainly I never beheld a deck so dirty. It was littered with scraps of carrot, shreds of green stuff, and indescribable filth. Fastened by chains to the mainmast were a number of grisly staghounds, who now began leaping and barking at me, and by the mizzen a huge puma was cramped in a little iron cage, far too small even to give it turning-room. Further under the starboard bulwark were some big hutches containing a number of rabbits, and a solitary llama was squeezed in a mere box of a cage forward. The dogs were muzzled by leather straps. The only human being on deck was a gaunt and silent sailor at the wheel.
The patched and dirty spankers were tense before the wind, and up aloft the little ship seemed carrying every sail she had. The sky was clear, the sun midway down the western sky; long waves, capped by the breeze with froth, were running with us. We went past the steersman to the taffrail and stared side by side for a space at the water foaming under the stern and the bubbles dancing and vanishing in her wake. I turned and surveyed the unsavoury length of the ship.
`Is this an ocean menagerie?’ said I.
`Looks like it,’ said Montgomery.
`What are these beasts for? Merchandise, curios? Does the captain think he is going to sell them somewhere in the South Seas?’
`It looks like it, doesn’t it?’ said Montgomery, and turned towards the wake again.
Suddenly we heard a yelp and a volley of furious blasphemy coming from the companion hatchway, and the deformed man with the black face clambered up hurriedly. He was immediately followed by a heavy red-haired man in a white cap. At the sight of the former the staghounds, who had all tired of barking at me by this time, became furiously excited, howling and leaping against their chains. The black hesitated before them, and this gave the red-haired man time to come up with him and deliver a tremendous blow between the shoulder-blades with his fist. The poor devil went down like a felled ox, and rolled in the dirt among the furiously excited dogs. It was lucky for him they were muzzled. The red-haired man gave a yawp of exultation and stood staggering and, as it seemed to me, in serious danger of either going backwards down the companion hatchway, or forwards upon his victim.
So soon as the second man had appeared, Montgomery had started violently. `Steady on there!’ he cried, in a tone of remonstrance. A couple of sailors appeared on the forecastle.
The blackfaced man, howling in a singular voice, rolled about under the feet of the dogs. No one attempted to help him. The brutes did their best to worry him, butting their muzzles at him. There was a quick dance of their lithe grey bodies over the clumsy prostrate figure. The sailors forward shouted to them as though it was admirable sport. Montgomery gave an angry exclamation, and went striding down the deck. I followed him.
In another second the blackfaced man had scrambled up and was staggering forward. He stumbled up against the bulwark by the main shrouds, where he remained panting and glaring over his shoulder at the dogs. The red-haired man laughed a satisfied laugh.
`Look here, captain,’ said Montgomery, with his lisp a little accentuated, gripping the elbows of the red-haired man; `this won’t do.’
I stood behind Montgomery. The captain came half round and regarded him with the dull and solemn eyes of a drunken man. `Wha’ won’t do?’ he said; and added, after looking sleepily into Montgomery’s face for a minute, `Blasted Sawbones!’
With a sudden movement he shook his arms free, and after two ineffectual attempts stuck his freckled fists into his sidepockets.
`That man’s a passenger,’ said Montgomery. `I’d advise you to keep your hands off him.’
`Go to hell!’ said the captain loudly. He suddenly turned and staggered towards the side. `Do what I like on my own ship,’ he said.
I think Montgomery might have left him then — seeing the brute was drunk. But he only turned a shade paler, and followed the captain to the bulwarks.
`Look here, captain,’ he said. `That man of mine is not to be ill-treated. He has been hazed ever since he came aboard.’
For a minute alcoholic fumes kept the captain speechless. `Blasted Sawbones!’ was all he considered necessary.
I could see that Montgomery had an ugly temper, and I saw too that this quarrel had been some time growing. `The man’s drunk,’ said I, perhaps officiously; `you’ll