The Island of Doctor Moreau - Wells E-Book

H G Wells

• Herausgeber: Lebooks Editora
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 220

Beschreibung

The character Charles Prendick is found shipwrecked by a vessel transporting wild animals to a small island in the Pacific. Still debilitated, he is unloaded on the island along with the cargo of animals. There, he encounters Dr. Moreau, a scientist who, akin to a plastic surgeon, creates species through operations without anesthesia. Dr. Moreau conducts gruesome experiments such as transplanting hooves and claws to create a more functional hand, as well as organs and tissues, creating aberrations as if playing God and purportedly aiming to "perfect evolution." Moreau does all of this for his aesthetic delight and pure selfishness of being a scientist who has achieved perfection, one who can "manipulate" evolution. All are Moreau's "creations." And what shocks Prendick the most is the cruelty contained not out of hatred, but out of the simple pleasure of the scientist's obsession to recreate and perfect creation. Published in 1896, "The Island of Dr. Moreau" is probably H.G. Wells' most impactful work. A masterpiece of the genre that, many years later, would come to be known as Science Fiction.

Leseprobe

H.G. Wells

THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU

Contents

INTRODUCTION

THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU

I. IN THE DINGEY OF THE “LADY VAIN.”

II. THE MAN WHO WAS GOING NOWHERE.

III. THE STRANGE FACE.

IV. AT THE SCHOONER’S RAIL.

V. THE MAN WHO HAD NOWHERE TO GO.

VI. THE EVIL-LOOKING BOATMEN.

VII. THE LOCKED DOOR.

VIII. THE CRYING OF THE PUMA.

IX. THE THING IN THE FOREST.

X. THE CRYING OF THE MAN.

XI. THE HUNTING OF THE MAN.

XII. THE SAYERS OF THE LAW.

XIII. A PARLEY.

XIV.DOCTOR MOREAU EXPLAINS.

XV.CONCERNING THE BEAST FOLK.

XVI.HOW THE BEAST FOLK TASTE BLOOD.

XVII. A CATASTROPHE.

XVIII. THE FINDING OF MOREAU.

XIX. MONTGOMERY’S “BANK HOLIDAY.”

XX.ALONE WITH THE BEAST FOLK.

XXI. THE REVERSION OF THE BEAST FOLK.

XXII.THE MAN ALONE.

INTRODUCTION

H.G. Wells

1866-1946

Herbert George Wells, or "H.G. Wells" as he became known, was born on September 21, 1866, in Bromley, England, and died in London at the age of 79 on August 13, 1946. He was the son of a small shopkeeper. Before attending the Normal School of Science in London, where he became acquainted with Thomas H. Huxley, with whom he would become close friends, Wells worked as an assistant teacher. After graduating, he briefly worked as a biology teacher before transitioning to become a professional journalist and writer. He was also somewhat of a political philosopher, as described by his socialist friend Beatrice Webb.

As a writer, Wells was extremely versatile, producing a vast literary output spanning numerous genres including contemporary novels, history, politics, social commentary, and primarily science fiction.

Herbert George Wells is one of the most significant authors in the science fiction genre. He tackled various themes such as time travel, alien invasion, biological manipulation, total war, and invisibility, among others, which would later be explored by other authors in the genre. So much so that, along with Jules Verne and Hugo Gernsback, Wells has been referred to as "The Father of Science Fiction.”

About the work

The character Charles Prendick is found shipwrecked by a vessel transporting wild animals to a small island in the Pacific. Still weak, he is unloaded on the island along with the cargo of animals. There, he encounters Dr. Moreau, a scientist who, in the manner of a plastic surgeon, creates species through operations without anesthesia.

Dr. Moreau conducts gruesome experiments such as transplanting hooves and claws to create a more functional hand, as well as organs and tissues, creating aberrations as if playing at being God and supposedly aiming to "perfect evolution." However, throughout the story, Wells makes it clear that Moreau is not doing this to benefit humanity in any way, such as developing surgical techniques that could one day make medicine more efficient in saving lives. No! Moreau does all of this for his aesthetic pleasure and pure selfishness of being a scientist who has reached perfection, one who can "manipulate" evolution. All are Moreau's "works of art." And what shocks Prendick the most is the cruelty contained not out of hatred, but out of the simple pleasure of the scientist's obsession to recreate and perfect creation.

Published in 1896, "The Island of Dr. Moreau" is probably H.G. Wells' most impactful work. A masterpiece of the genre that, many years later, would come to be known as Science Fiction.

THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU

I. IN THE DINGEY OF THE “LADY VAIN.”

I do not propose to add anything to what has already been written concerning the loss of the Lady Vain. As everyone knows, she collided with a derelict when ten days out from Callao. The longboat, with seven of the crew, was picked up eighteen days after by H. M. gunboat Myrtle and the story of their terrible privations has become quite as well known as the far more horrible Medusa case. But I have to add to the published story of the Lady Vain another, possibly as horrible and far stranger. It has hitherto been supposed that the four men who were in the dingey perished but this is incorrect. I have the best of evidence for this assertion: I was one of the four men.

But in the first place I must state that there never were four men in the dingey, — the number was three. Constans, who was “seen by the captain to jump into the gig,”[1] luckily for us and unluckily for himself did not reach us. He came down out of the tangle of ropes under the stays of the smashed bowsprit, some small rope caught his heel as he let go and he hung for a moment head downward and then fell and struck a block or spar floating in the water. We pulled towards him but he never came up.

I say luckily for us he did not reach us and I might almost say luckily for himself; for we had only a small beaker of water and some soddened ship’s biscuits with us, so sudden had been the alarm, so unprepared the ship for any disaster. We thought the people on the launch would be better provisioned (though it seems they were not) and we tried to hail them. They could not have heard us and the next morning when the drizzle cleared, — which was not until past midday, — we could see nothing of them. We could not stand up to look about us, because of the pitching of the boat. The two other men who had escaped so far with me were a man named Helmar, a passenger like myself and a seaman whose name I don’t know, — a short sturdy man, with a stammer.

We drifted famishing and, after our water had come to an end, tormented by an intolerable thirst, for eight days altogether. After the second day the sea subsided slowly to a glassy calm. It is quite impossible for the ordinary reader to imagine those eight days. He has not, luckily for himself, anything in his memory to imagine with. After the first day we said little to one another and lay in our places in the boat and stared at the horizon, or watched, with eyes that grew larger and more haggard every day, the misery and weakness gaining upon our companions. The sun became pitiless. The water ended on the fourth day and we were already thinking strange things and saying them with our eyes; but it was, I think, the sixth before Helmar gave voice to the thing we had all been thinking. I remember our voices were dry and thin, so that we bent towards one another and spared our words. I stood out against it with all my might, was rather for scuttling the boat and perishing together among the sharks that followed us; but when Helmar said that if his proposal was accepted we should have drink, the sailor came round to him.

I would not draw lots however and in the night the sailor whispered to Helmar again and again and I sat in the bows with my clasp-knife in my hand, though I doubt if I had the stuff in me to fight; and in the morning I agreed to Helmar’s proposal and we handed halfpence to find the odd man. The lot fell upon the sailor; but he was the strongest of us and would not abide by it and attacked Helmar with his hands. They grappled together and almost stood up. I crawled along the boat to them, intending to help Helmar by grasping the sailor’s leg; but the sailor stumbled with the swaying of the boat and the two fell upon the gunwale and rolled overboard together. They sank like stones. I remember laughing at that and wondering why I laughed. The laugh caught me suddenly like a thing from without.

I lay across one of the thwarts for I know not how long, thinking that if I had the strength I would drink sea-water and madden myself to die quickly. And even as I lay there I saw, with no more interest than if it had been a picture, a sail come up towards me over the sky-line. My mind must have been wandering and yet I remember all that happened, quite distinctly. I remember how my head swayed with the seas and the horizon with the sail above it danced up and down; but I also remember as distinctly that I had a persuasion that I was dead and that I thought what a jest it was that they should come too late by such a little to catch me in my body.

For an endless period, as it seemed to me, I lay with my head on the thwart watching the schooner (she was a little ship, schooner-rigged fore and aft) come up out of the sea. She kept tacking to and fro in a widening compass, for she was sailing dead into the wind. It never entered my head to attempt to attract attention and I do not remember anything distinctly after the sight of her side until I found myself in a little cabin aft. There’s a dim half-memory of being lifted up to the gangway and of a big round countenance covered with freckles and surrounded with red hair staring at me over the bulwarks. I also had a disconnected impression of a dark face, with extraordinary eyes, close to mine; but that I thought was a nightmare, until I met it again. I fancy I recollect some stuff being poured in between my teeth; and that is all.

II. THE MAN WHO WAS GOING NOWHERE.

The cabin in which I found myself was small and rather untidy. A youngish man with flaxen hair, a bristly straw-colored moustache and a dropping nether lip, was sitting and holding my wrist. For a minute we stared at each other without speaking. He had watery grey eyes, oddly void of expression. Then just overhead came a sound like an iron bedstead being knocked about and the low angry growling of some large animal. At the same time the man spoke. He repeated his question, — “How do you feel now?”

I think I said I felt all right. I could not recollect how I had got there. He must have seen the question in my face, for my voice was inaccessible to me.

“You were picked up in a boat, starving. The name on the boat was the Lady Vain and there were spots of blood on the gunwale.”

At the same time my eye caught my hand, so thin that it looked like a dirty skin-purse full of loose bones and all the business of the boat came back to me.

“Have some of this,” said he and gave me a dose of some scarlet stuff, iced.

It tasted like blood and made me feel stronger.

“You were in luck,” said he, “to get picked up by a ship with a medical man aboard.” He spoke with a slobbering articulation, with the ghost of a lisp.

“What ship is this?” I said slowly, hoarse from my long silence.

“It’s a little trader from Arica and Callao. I never asked where she came from in the beginning, — out of the land of born fools, I guess. I’m a passenger myself, from Arica. The silly ass who owns her, — he’s captain too, named Davies, — he’s lost his certificate, or something. You know the kind of man, — calls the thing the Ipecacuanha, of all silly, infernal names; though when there’s much of a sea without any wind, she certainly acts according.”

(Then the noise overhead began again, a snarling growl and the voice of a human being together. Then another voice, telling some “Heaven-forsaken idiot” to desist.)

“You were nearly dead,” said my interlocutor. “It was a very near thing, indeed. But I’ve put some stuff into you now. Notice your arm’s sore? Injections. You’ve been insensible for nearly thirty hours.”

I thought slowly. (I was distracted now by the yelping of a number of dogs.) “Am I eligible for solid food?” I asked.

“Thanks to me,” he said. “Even now the mutton is boiling.”

“Yes,” I said with assurance; “I could eat some mutton.”

“But,” said he with a momentary hesitation, “you know I’m dying to hear of how you came to be alone in that boat. Damn that howling!” I thought I detected a certain suspicion in his eyes.

He suddenly left the cabin and I heard him in violent controversy with someone, who seemed to me to talk gibberish in response to him. The matter sounded as though it ended in blows but in that I thought my ears were mistaken. Then he shouted at the dogs and returned to the cabin.

“Well?” said he in the doorway. “You were just beginning to tell me.”

I told him my name, Edward Prendick and how I had taken to Natural History as a relief from the dulness of my comfortable independence.

He seemed interested in this. “I’ve done some science myself. I did my Biology at University College, — getting out the ovary of the earthworm and the radula of the snail and all that. Lord! It’s ten years ago. But go on! go on! tell me about the boat.”

He was evidently satisfied with the frankness of my story, which I told in concise sentences enough, for I felt horribly weak; and when it was finished he reverted at once to the topic of Natural History and his own biological studies. He began to question me closely about Tottenham Court Road and Gower Street. “Is Caplatzi still flourishing? What a shop that was!” He had evidently been a very ordinary medical student and drifted incontinently to the topic of the music halls. He told me some anecdotes.

“Left it all,” he said, “ten years ago. How jolly it all used to be! But I made a young ass of myself, — played myself out before I was twenty-one. I daresay it’s all different now. But I must look up that ass of a cook and see what he’s done to your mutton.”

The growling overhead was renewed, so suddenly and with so much savage anger that it startled me. “What’s that?” I called after him but the door had closed. He came back again with the boiled mutton and I was so excited by the appetising smell of it that I forgot the noise of the beast that had troubled me.

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 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 to 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 willfully stupid of a sudden that it came into my head that he desired to avoid my questions. I had the discretion to ask no more.

III. THE STRANGE FACE.

We left the cabin and found a man at the companion 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.

In some indefinable way the black face thus flashed upon me shocked 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 blood-shot 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 black-faced man started aside without a word. I went on up the companion, staring at him instinctively 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 black-faced man cowered. “They — won’t have me forward.” He spoke slowly, with a queer, 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 half way through the hatchway, looking back, still astonished beyond measure at the grotesque ugliness of this black-faced 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 yet 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. Farther 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 saw the water come foaming under the stern and the bubbles go dancing and vanishing in her wake. I turned and surveyed the unsavory 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 from the companion hatchway and the deformed man with the black face came 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. The poor devil went down like a felled ox and rolled in the dirt among the furiously excited dogs. It was lucky for him that 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 forward. “Steady on there!” he cried, in a tone of remonstrance. A couple of sailors appeared on the forecastle. The black-faced 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-figured bodies over the clumsy, prostrate figure. The sailors forward shouted, as though it was admirable sport. Montgomery gave an angry exclamation and went striding down the deck and I followed him. The black-faced man scrambled up and staggered forward, going and leaning over 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 side pockets.

“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 you 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 one of those slow, pertinacious tempers that will warm day after day to a white heat and never again cool to forgiveness; and I saw too that this quarrel had been some time growing. “The man’s drunk,” said I, perhaps officiously; “you’ll do no good.”

Montgomery gave an ugly twist to his dropping lip. “He’s always drunk. Do you think that excuses his assaulting his passengers?”

“My ship,” began the captain, waving his hand unsteadily towards the cages, “was a clean ship. Look at it now!” It was certainly anything but clean. “Crew,” continued the captain, “clean, respectable crew.”

“You agreed to take the beasts.”

“I wish I’d never set eyes on your infernal island. What the devil — want beasts for on an island like that? Then, that man of yours — understood he was a man. He’s a lunatic; and he hadn’t no business aft. Do you think the whole damned ship belongs to you?”

“Your sailors began to haze the poor devil as soon as he came aboard.”

“That’s just what he is — he’s a devil! an ugly devil! My men can’t stand him. I can’t stand him. None of us can’t stand him. Nor you either!”

Montgomery turned away. “You leave that man alone, anyhow,” he said, nodding his head as he spoke.

But the captain meant to quarrel now. He raised his voice. “If he comes this end of the ship again I’ll cut his insides out, I tell you. Cut out his blasted insides! Who are you, to tell me what I’m to do? I tell you I’m captain of this ship, — captain and owner. I’m the law here, I tell you, — the law and the prophets. I bargained to take a man and his attendant to and from Arica and bring back some animals. I never bargained to carry a mad devil and a silly Sawbones, a — ”

Well, never mind what he called Montgomery. I saw the latter take a step forward and interposed. “He’s drunk,” said I. The captain began some abuse even fouler than the last. “Shut up!” I said, turning on him sharply, for I had seen danger in Montgomery’s white face. With that I brought the downpour on myself.

However, I was glad to avert what was uncommonly near a scuffle, even at the price of the captain’s drunken ill-will. I do not think I have ever heard quite so much vile language come in a continuous stream from any man’s lips before, though I have frequented eccentric company enough. I found some of it hard to endure, though I am a mild-tempered man; but, certainly, when I told the captain to “shut up” I had forgotten that I was merely a bit of human flotsam, cut off from my resources and with my fare unpaid; a mere casual dependant on the bounty, or speculative enterprise, of the ship. He reminded me of it with considerable vigor; but at any rate I prevented a fight.

IV. AT THE SCHOONER’S RAIL.

That night land was sighted after sundown and the schooner hove to. Montgomery intimated that was his destination. It was too far to see any details; it seemed to me then simply a 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 vented his wrath on me he had staggered below and I understand he went to sleep on 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 took not the slightest notice of either of us. We dined with him in a sulky silence, after a few ineffectual efforts on my part to talk. It struck me too that the men regarded my companion and his animals in a singularly unfriendly manner. I found Montgomery very reticent about his purpose with these creatures and about his destination; and though I was sensible of a growing curiosity as to both, I did not press him.