Classic Adventure Books - Daily
18 - The Island of Dr Moreau - H G Wells
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- Duration:
- 12m
- Broadcast on:
- 04 Jul 2024
- Audio Format:
- mp3
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It's your gateway to unlimited audio enjoyment. That's solgoodmedia.com. S-O-L-G-O-O-D-M-E-D-I-A.com. Check it out. We hope to see you over there. 18. The Finding of Moreau. When I saw Montgomery swallow a third dose of brandy, I took it upon myself to interfere. It was already more than half-fuddled. At all done that some serious thing must have happened tomorrow by this time, or he would have returned before this, and that it behooved us to ascertain what that catastrophe was. Montgomery raised some feeble objections and at last agreed. We had some food, and then all three of us started. It is possibly due to the tension of my mind at the time, but even now that start into the hot stillness of the tropical afternoon is a singularly vivid expression. Imling went first, his shoulder hunched, his strange black head moving with quick starts as he appeared first on this side of the way, and then on that. He was unarmed, his axe he had dropped when he encountered the swine men. Teeth were his weapons when it came to fighting. Montgomery followed with stumbling footsteps, his hands in his pockets, his face downcast. He was in a state of muddled sulleness with me on account of the brandy. My left arm was in a sling, it was lucky it was my left, and I carried my revolver in my right. Soon we traced a narrow path through the wild luxurience of the island, going north westward, and presently, Imling stopped and became rigid with watchfulness. Montgomery almost staggered into him, and then stopped too. Then, listening intently, we heard coming through the trees, the sound of voices and footsteps approaching us. He is dead, said a deep vibrating voice. He is not dead, he is not dead. Jabbard another, we saw, we saw, said several voices. Hello! Suddenly shouted Montgomery, hello there! Confound you, said I, and gripped my pistol. There was a silence, then a crashing among the interlacing vegetation, first here, then there, and then half a dozen faces appeared, strange faces, lit by a strange light. Imling made a growling noise in his throat. I recognized the eight man, I had indeed already identified his voice, and two of the white-swathed brown-featured creatures I had seen in Montgomery's boat. With these were the two dappled brutes, and that gray, horribly crooked creature, who said the law, with his gray hair streaming down its cheeks, heavy gray eyebrows, and gray locks pouring off from a central parting upon its sloping forehead. A heavy, faceless thing, with strange red eyes, looking at us curiously from amidst the green. For a space no one spoke. Then Montgomery hiccuped, who said he was dead? The monkey man looked guiltily at the hairy gray thing. "He is dead," said this monster. "They saw." There was nothing threatening about this detachment at any rate. They seemed a-stricken and puzzled. "Where is he?" said Montgomery. "Beyond." And the gray creature pointed. "Is there a law now?" asked the monkey man. "Is it still to be this and that? Is he dead indeed?" "Is there a law?" repeated the man in white. "Is there a law that were there with the whip?" "He is dead," said the hairy gray thing, and they all stood watching us. "Rindick," said Montgomery, turning his doll eyes to me. "He's dead, evidently." I had been standing behind him during this colloquy. I began to see how things lay with him. I suddenly stepped in front of Montgomery and lifted up my voice. "Children of the law," I said. "He is not dead." Imling turned his sharp eyes on me. He has changed his shape. "He has changed his body," I went on. "For a time you will not see him. He is there," I pointed upward, "where he can watch you. You cannot see him, but he can see you. Fear the law." I looked at them squarely. They flinched. "He is great, he is good," said the eight man, peering fearfully upward among the dense trees. And the other thing I demanded. "The thing that bled and ran screaming and sobbing, that is dead too," said the gray thing, still regarding me. "That's well," grunted Montgomery. "The other with the whip," began the gray thing. "Well," said I, "said he was dead." But Montgomery was still sober enough to understand my motive in denying Monroe's death. "He is not dead," he said slowly, "not dead at all. No more dead than I am." "Some," said I, "have broken the law. They will die. Some have died." Show us now are his old body lies, the body he cast away because he had no more need of it. "It is this way, man who walked in the sea," said the gray thing. And with the six creatures guiding us, we went through the tumult of ferns and creepers and tree stems towards the north-west. Then came a yelling, a crashing among the branches, and a little pink homunculus rushed by us, shrieking. Immediately after, appeared a monster in headlong pursuit, blood bedabbled, who was amongst us almost before he could stop his career. The gray thing leapt aside. Inling with a snarl flew at it and was struck aside. Montgomery fired and missed, bowed his head, threw up his arm, and turned to run. I fired and the thing still came on, fired again, point blank, into its ugly face. I saw its features vanish in a flash, its face was driven in. Yet it passed me, gripped Montgomery, and holding him, fell headlong beside him and pulled him sprawling upon itself in its death agony. I found myself alone with himling, the dead brute, and the prostrate man, Montgomery raised himself slowly and stared in a muddled way at the shattered beastman beside him. It more than half sobered him. He scrambled to his feet, then I saw the gray thing returning cautiously through the trees. "See," said I, pointing to the dead brute, "is the law not alive, this came of breaking the law." He appeared at his body, "He sins the fire that kills," said he, in his deep voice, repeating part of the ritual. The others gathered round and stared for a space. At last we drew near the westward extremity of the island. We came upon the gnawed and mutilated body of the puma. Its shoulder bone smashed by a bullet, and perhaps twenty yearn's father, found at last what we sought. Morole faced downward in a trampled space in a cane-break. One hand was almost severed at the wrist, and his silvery hair was dabbled in blood. His head had been battered in by the fetters of the puma. The broken canes beneath him were smeared with blood. His revolver could not be found. Montgomery turned him over, resting at intervals and with the help of the seven-beast people, for he was a heavy man. We carried Morole back to the enclosure. The night was darkling. Twice we heard unseen creatures howling and shrieking past our little band, and once the little pink sloth creature appeared instead at us and vanished again. But we were not attacked again. At the gates of the enclosure our company of beast people left us, emling going with the rest. We locked ourselves in, and then took Morole's mangled body into the yard and laid it upon a pile of brushwood. Then we went into the laboratory and put an end to all we found living there. Hey there, listeners. Are you ready to unlock a world of captivating stories, soothing sounds, and enlightening lectures? At Salka Media, we believe in the power of audio to enrich your life, and now we're offering you a chance to experience it all for free. For a limited time, you can get a one-month free trial to our premium, ad-free service. Imagine having unlimited access to over 500 audiobooks, meditative sounds, and exclusive shows, all at your fingertips. 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