The Island of Doctor Moreau

  IV. AT THE SCHOONER'S RAIL.

  THAT night land was sighted after sundown, and the schoonerhove to. Montgomery intimated that was his destination.It was too far to see any details; it seemed to me then simplya low-lying patch of dim blue in the uncertain blue-grey sea.An almost vertical streak of smoke went up from it into the sky.The captain was not on deck when it was sighted. After he had ventedhis wrath on me he had staggered below, and I understand he went to sleepon the floor of his own cabin. The mate practically assumed the command.He was the gaunt, taciturn individual we had seen at the wheel.Apparently he was in an evil temper with Montgomery. He tooknot the slightest notice of either of us. We dined with him in asulky silence, after a few ineffectual efforts on my part to talk.It struck me too that the men regarded my companion and his animalsin a singularly unfriendly manner. I found Montgomery very reticentabout his purpose with these creatures, and about his destination;and though I was sensible of a growing curiosity as to both, I did notpress him.

  We remained talking on the quarter deck until the sky was thickwith stars. Except for an occasional sound in the yellow-lit forecastleand a movement of the animals now and then, the night was very still.The puma lay crouched together, watching us with shining eyes, a blackheap in the corner of its cage. Montgomery produced some cigars.He talked to me of London in a tone of half-painful reminiscence,asking all kinds of questions about changes that had taken place.He spoke like a man who had loved his life there, and had beensuddenly and irrevocably cut off from it. I gossiped as well as Icould of this and that. All the time the strangeness of him wasshaping itself in my mind; and as I talked I peered at his odd,pallid face in the dim light of the binnacle lantern behind me. Then Ilooked out at the darkling sea, where in the dimness his little islandwas hidden.

  This man, it seemed to me, had come out of Immensity merely to savemy life. To-morrow he would drop over the side, and vanish again outof my existence. Even had it been under commonplace circumstances,it would have made me a trifle thoughtful; but in the first place wasthe singularity of an educated man living on this unknown little island,and coupled with that the extraordinary nature of his luggage.I found myself repeating the captain's question. What did he wantwith the beasts? Why, too, had he pretended they were not his when Ihad remarked about them at first? Then, again, in his personal attendantthere was a bizarre quality which had impressed me profoundly.These circumstances threw a haze of mystery round the man. They laidhold of my imagination, and hampered my tongue.

  Towards midnight our talk of London died away, and we stoodside by side leaning over the bulwarks and staring dreamilyover the silent, starlit sea, each pursuing his own thoughts.It was the atmosphere for sentiment, and I began upon my gratitude.

  "If I may say it," said I, after a time, "you have saved my life."

  "Chance," he answered. "Just chance."

  "I prefer to make my thanks to the accessible agent."

  "Thank no one. You had the need, and I had the knowledge;and I injected and fed you much as I might have collected a specimen.I was bored and wanted something to do. If I'd been jaded that day,or hadn't liked your face, well--it's a curious question where you wouldhave been now!"

  This damped my mood a little. "At any rate," I began.

  "It's a chance, I tell you," he interrupted, "as everything is ina man's life. Only the asses won't see it! Why am I here now,an outcast from civilisation, instead of being a happy man enjoyingall the pleasures of London? Simply because eleven years ago--Ilost my head for ten minutes on a foggy night."

  He stopped. "Yes?" said I.

  "That's all."

  We relapsed into silence. Presently he laughed."There's something in this starlight that loosens one's tongue.I'm an ass, and yet somehow I would like to tell you."

  "Whatever you tell me, you may rely upon my keeping to myself--ifthat's it."

  He was on the point of beginning, and then shook his head, doubtfully.

  "Don't," said I. "It is all the same to me. After all, it is betterto keep your secret. There's nothing gained but a little reliefif I respect your confidence. If I don't--well?"

  He grunted undecidedly. I felt I had him at a disadvantage, had caughthim in the mood of indiscretion; and to tell the truth I was not curiousto learn what might have driven a young medical student out of London.I have an imagination. I shrugged my shoulders and turned away.Over the taffrail leant a silent black figure, watching the stars.It was Montgomery's strange attendant. It looked over its shoulderquickly with my movement, then looked away again.

  It may seem a little thing to you, perhaps, but it came like a suddenblow to me. The only light near us was a lantern at the wheel.The creature's face was turned for one brief instant out of the dimnessof the stern towards this illumination, and I saw that the eyesthat glanced at me shone with a pale-green light. I did not know thenthat a reddish luminosity, at least, is not uncommon in human eyes.The thing came to me as stark inhumanity. That black figure with itseyes of fire struck down through all my adult thoughts and feelings,and for a moment the forgotten horrors of childhood came back to my mind.Then the effect passed as it had come. An uncouth black figureof a man, a figure of no particular import, hung over the taffrailagainst the starlight, and I found Montgomery was speakingto me.

  "I'm thinking of turning in, then," said he, "if you've had enoughof this."

  I answered him incongruously. We went below, and he wished megood-night at the door of my cabin.

  That night I had some very unpleasant dreams. The waningmoon rose late. Its light struck a ghostly white beam acrossmy cabin, and made an ominous shape on the planking by my bunk.Then the staghounds woke, and began howling and baying;so that I dreamt fitfully, and scarcely slept until the approachof dawn.