Classic Adventure Books - Daily

19 - The Island of Dr Moreau - H G Wells

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Duration:: 20m
Broadcast on:: 05 Jul 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

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Visit chumbacassino.com. BtW Group no purchase necessary, we're prohibited by lossy terms and conditions, 18-plus. Nineteen, Montgomery's bank holiday. When this was accomplished, and we had washed and eaten, Montgomery and I went into my little room and seriously discussed our position for the first time. It was then near midnight. He was almost sober, but greatly disturbed in his mind. He had been strangely under the influence of Murrow's personality. I do not think it had ever occurred to him that Murrow could die. This disaster was the sudden collapse of the habits that had become part of his nature in the tin or moor monotonous years he had spent on the island. He talked vaguely, answered my questions crookedly, wandered into general questions. "This silly ass of a world," he said. "What a muddle it all is." "I haven't heard any life. I wonder when it's going to begin. Sixteen years of being bullied by nurses and schoolmasters at their own sweet will, five in London grinding hard at medicine, bad food, shabby lodgings, shabby clothes, shabby vice, a blunder. I didn't know any better and huffled off to this beathly island ten years here. What there are for, predict? Are we bubbles blown by a baby?" It was hard to deal with such ravings. "The thing we have to think of now," said I, "is how to get away from this island. What the court of getting away? I'm an outcast. Where am I to join on? It's all very well for you, Frindik. For old Morro, we can't leave him here to have his bones picked, as it is; and besides, what will become of the decent part of the beath folk?" "Well," said I, "that will do to-morrow. I've been thinking we might make the brush-wood into a pyre and burn his body, and those other things. Then what will happen with the beath folk?" "I don't know. I suppose those that were made beaths of prey will make silly asses of themselves sooner or later. We can't mafuck her the lot. Can we?" "I suppose that's what your humanity would suggest. But they'll change. They are sure to change." He talked thus inconclusively, until at last I felt my timper going. "Garnation," he exclaimed, at some petulance of mine, "can't you see I'm in a worth whole than you are?" And he got up, and went for the brandy. "Drink," he said, returning, "you logic-chopping, chalky-faith-thaint-of-an-athe-th-drink." "Not I," said I, and sat grimly watching his face under the yellow paraffin flare as he drank himself into a garroless misery. I have a memory of infinite tedium. He wandered into a model in defense of the beast-people and of Imling. Imling, he said, was the only thing that had ever really cared for him. And suddenly an idea came to him. "I'm damned," said he, staggering to his feet and clutching the brandy bottle. By some flash of intuition I knew what it was he intended. "You don't give drink to that beast," I said, rising and facing him. "Beast," said he, "you're the beast. He takes his liquor like a Christian. Come out of my way, Prindig." "For God's sake," said I, "get out of the way!" he roared, and suddenly whipped out his revolver. "Very well," said I, and stood aside, half-minded to fall upon him as he put his hand upon the latch, but deterred by the thought of my useless arm. "You've made a beast of yourself. To the beasts you may go." He flung the doorway open and stood half-facing me between the yellow lamp-light and the palate-glare of the moon. His eye-sockets were blotches of black under his stubbly eyebrows. "You're a tholum-prig, Prindig, a-thilly-ath. You're always fearing and fan-thing. We're on the edge of things. I'm bound to cut my throat to-morrow. I'm going to have a damned bank holiday to-night." He turned and went out into the moonlight. "Emling?" he cried. "Emling, old friend!" Three dim creatures in the silvery light came along the edge of the Wann Beach. One a white-wrapped creature, the other two blotches of blackness following it. They halted, staring. "Then I saw Imling's hunched shoulders as he came round the corner of the house." "Drink!" cried Montgomery. "Drink, you brute! Drink and be man! Damn, I'm the cleverest. Moro forgot this. This is the last touch. I tell you!" And waving the bottle in his hand, he started off at a kind of quick trot to the westward, Imling ranging himself between him and the three dim creatures who followed. I went to the doorway. They were already indistinct in the midst of the moonlight before Montgomery halted. I saw him in minster, a dose of the raw brand into Imling, and saw the five figures melt into one vague patch. "Thing!" I heard Montgomery shout. "Thing all together! Can found old Prindig! That's right, now again! Can found old Prindig!" The black group broke up into five separate figures, and wound slowly away from me along the band of Shining Beach. Each went howling at his own sweet will, yelping insults at me or giving whatever other vent this new inspiration of Brandy demanded. Presently I heard Montgomery's voice shouting, "Right turn!" And they passed with their shouts and howls into the blackness of the landward trees. Slowly, very slowly, they receded into silence. The peaceful splendor of the night healed again. The moon was now past the meridian and travelling down the west. It was at its full and very bright riding through the empty blue sky. The shadow of the wall lay, a yard wide and a vinky blackness, at my feet. The eastward sea was a featureless grey, dark and mysterious, and between the sea in the shadow the grey sands of volcanic glass and crystals flashed and shone like a beach of diamonds. And me the paraffin lamp flared hot and ruddy. Then I shut the door, locked it, and went into the enclosure where Morro lay beside his latest victims, the stag hounds and the llama, and some other wretched brutes, with his massive face calm, even after his terrible death, and with his hard eyes open, staring at the dead white moon above. I sat down upon the edge of the sink, and with my eyes upon that ghastly pile of silvery light, a nomeness shadow began to turn over my plans. In the morning I would gather some provisions in the dinghy, and after setting fire to the pyre before me, push out into the desolation of the high sea once more. I felt that for Montgomery there was no help, that he was, in truth, half akin to these beastfolk, unfitted for human kindred. I do not know how long I sat there scheming. It must have been an hour or so. Then my planning was interrupted by the return of Montgomery to my neighbourhood. I heard a yelling from many throats, a tumult of exultant cries passing down towards the beach, whooping and howling, and excited shrieks that seemed to come to a stop near the water's edge. The riot rose and fell. I heard heavy blows and the splintering smash of wood, but it did not trouble me then. A discordant chanting began. My thoughts went back to my means of escape. I got up, brought the lamp, and went into a shed to look at some kegs I had seen there. Then I became interested in the contents of some biscuit tins, an open one. I saw something out of the tail of my eye, a red figure, and turned sharply. Behind me lay the yard, vividly black and white in the moonlight, and the pile of wood and faggots on which morrow and his mutilated victims lay, one over another. They seemed to be gripping one another in one last revengeful grapple. His wounds gaped, black as night, and the blood that had dripped lay in black patches upon the sand. Then I saw, without understanding, the cause of my phantom, a ready glow that came and danced and went upon the wall opposite. I misinterpreted this, fancied it was a reflection of my flickering lamp, and turned again to the stalls in the shed. I went on rummaging among them, as well as a one armed man could, finding this convenient thing and that, and putting them aside for tomorrow's launch. My movements were slow, and the time passed quickly, insensibly the daylight crept upon me. The chanting died down, giving place to a clamour. Then I began again, and suddenly broke into a tumult. I heard cries of "more, more," a sound like quarrelling, and a sudden wild shriek. The quality of the sounds changed so greatly that it arrested my attention. I went out into the yard and listened. Then cutting like a knife across the confusion came the crack of a revolver. I rushed at once through my room to the little doorway. As I did so I heard some of the packing cases behind me go sliding down, and smashed together with a clatter of glass on the floor of the shed. But I did not heed these. I flung the door open and looked out. Up the beach by the boathouse a bonfire was burning, raining up sparks into the indistinctness of the dawn. Around this struggled a mass of black figures. I heard Montgomery call my name. I began to run at once towards this fire, revolver in hand. I saw the pink tongue of Montgomery's pistol lick out once, close to the ground. He was down. I shouted with all my strength and fired into the air. I heard someone cry, "The master!" The knotted black struggle broke into scattering units. The fire leapt and sank down. The crowd of beast people fled in sudden panic before me, up the beach. In my excitement I fired at their retreating backs as they disappeared among the bushes. Then I turned to the black heaps upon the ground. Montgomery lay on his back with a hairy grey beast-man sprawling across his body. The brute was dead, but still gripping Montgomery's throat with its curving claws. Nearby lay embling on his face and quite still. His neck bit an open and the upper part of the smashed brandy bottle in his hand. Two other figures lay near the fire. The one motionless, the other groaning fitfully, every now and then raising its head slowly, then dropping it again. I cut hold of the grey man and pulled him off Montgomery's body. His claws drew down the torn coat reluctantly as I dragged him away. Montgomery was dark in the face and scarcely breathing. I splashed seawater on his face and pillowed his head on my rolled-up coat. Imling was dead. The wounded creature by the fire, it was a wolf-brute with a bearded grey face. I found, with the four part of its body, upon the still glowing timber. The wretched thing was injured so dreadfully that in mercy I blew its brains out at once. The other brute was one of the bull-men swathed in white. He too was dead. The rest of the beast people had vanished from the beach. I went to Montgomery again and knelt beside him, cursing my ignorance of medicine. The fire beside me had sunk down and only charred beams of timber glowing at the central inns and mixed with the grey ash of brushwood remained. I wanted casually where Montgomery had got his wood. Then I saw that the dawn was upon us. The sky had grown bright her. The setting moon was becoming pale and opaque in the luminous blue of the day. The sky to the eastward was rimmed with red. Suddenly I heard a thud and a hissing behind me and, looking round, sprang to my feet with a cry of horror. Against the warm dawn great tumultuous masses of black smoke were boiling up out of the enclosure and through their stormy darkness shot flickering threads of blood-red flame. Then the thatched roof caught. I saw the curving charge of the flames across the sloping straw, a spurt of fire jetted from the window of my room. I knew at once what had happened. I remembered the crash I had heard. When I had rushed out to Montgomery's assistance I had overturned the lamp. The hopelessness of saving any of the contents of the enclosure stared me in the face. My mind came back to my plan of flight and turning swiftly I looked to see where the two boats lay upon the beach. They were gone. Two axes lay upon the sands beside me. Tips and splinters were scattered broadcast and the ashes of the bonfire were blackening and smoking under the dawn. Montgomery had burnt the boats to revenge himself upon me and prevent our return to mankind. A sudden convulsion of rage shook me. I was almost moved to batter his foolish head in as he lay their helpless at my feet. Then suddenly his hand moved so feebly, so pitifully, that my wrath vanished. He groaned and opened his eyes for a minute. I knelt down beside him and raised his head. He opened his eyes again, staring silently at the dawn, and then they met mine. The lids fell. "Sorry," he said presently, with an effort. He seemed trying to think. "The last," he murmured, "the last of this silly universe. What a mess!" I listened. His head fell helplessly to one side. I thought some drink might revive him, but there was neither drink nor vessel in which to bring drink at hand. He seemed suddenly heavier. My heart went cold. I bent down to his face, put my hand through the rent in his blouse. He was dead. And even as he died a line of white heat, the limb of the sun rose eastward beyond the projection of the bay, splashing its radiance across the sky and turning the dark sea into a weltering tumult of dazzling light. It fell like a glory upon his death shrunken face. I let his head fall gently upon the rough pillow I had made for him and stood up. Before me was the glittering desolation of the sea, the awful solitude upon which I had already suffered so much. And me the island hushed under the dawn, its beast-people silent and unseen. The enclosure, with all its provisions and ammunition, burnt noisily, with sudden gusts of flame, a fitful crackling, and now and then a crash. The heavy smoke drove up the beach away from me, rolling low over the distant tree tops towards the huts in the ravine. Inside me were the charred vestiges of the boats in these five dead bodies. 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. The following is a high five moment from high five casino.com. Hey there, it is Ryan Seacrest with you. You wanna make this summer unforgettable? Join me at Chumba Casino. It's this summer's hottest online destination. 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