The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells Read Free Book Online

with the head torn off.
I stopped aghast at the sight of the scattered blood.
Here at least was one visitor to the island disposed of!
There were no traces of other violence about it. It looked as though it
had been suddenly snatched up and killed; and as I stared at the little
furry body came the difficulty of how the thing had been done.
The vague dread that had been in my mind since I had seen the inhuman
face of the man at the stream grew distincter as I stood there.
I began to realise the hardihood of my expedition among these
unknown people. The thicket about me became altered to my imagination.
Every shadow became something more than a shadow,—became an ambush;
every rustle became a threat. Invisible things seemed watching me.
I resolved to go back to the enclosure on the beach. I suddenly
turned away and thrust myself violently, possibly even frantically,
through the bushes, anxious to get a clear space about me
again.
    I stopped just in time to prevent myself emerging upon an open space.
It was a kind of glade in the forest, made by a fall; seedlings were
already starting up to struggle for the vacant space; and beyond,
the dense growth of stems and twining vines and splashes of fungus
and flowers closed in again. Before me, squatting together upon
the fungoid ruins of a huge fallen tree and still unaware of my approach,
were three grotesque human figures. One was evidently a female;
the other two were men. They were naked, save for swathings
of scarlet cloth about the middle; and their skins were of a dull
pinkish-drab colour, such as I had seen in no savages before.
They had fat, heavy, chinless faces, retreating foreheads,
and a scant bristly hair upon their heads. I never saw such
bestial-looking creatures.
    They were talking, or at least one of the men was talking to the other two,
and all three had been too closely interested to heed the rustling of
my approach. They swayed their heads and shoulders from side to side.
The speaker's words came thick and sloppy, and though I could
hear them distinctly I could not distinguish what he said.
He seemed to me to be reciting some complicated gibberish.
Presently his articulation became shriller, and spreading his hands
he rose to his feet. At that the others began to gibber in unison,
also rising to their feet, spreading their hands and swaying their
bodies in rhythm with their chant. I noticed then the abnormal
shortness of their legs, and their lank, clumsy feet. All three began
slowly to circle round, raising and stamping their feet and waving
their arms; a kind of tune crept into their rhythmic recitation,
and a refrain,—"Aloola," or "Balloola," it sounded like.
Their eyes began to sparkle, and their ugly faces to brighten,
with an expression of strange pleasure. Saliva dripped from their
lipless mouths.
    Suddenly, as I watched their grotesque and unaccountable gestures,
I perceived clearly for the first time what it was that had offended me,
what had given me the two inconsistent and conflicting impressions
of utter strangeness and yet of the strangest familiarity.
The three creatures engaged in this mysterious rite were human in shape,
and yet human beings with the strangest air about them of some
familiar animal. Each of these creatures, despite its human form,
its rag of clothing, and the rough humanity of its bodily form,
had woven into it—into its movements, into the expression of
its countenance, into its whole presence—some now irresistible
suggestion of a hog, a swinish taint, the unmistakable mark of
the beast.
    I stood overcome by this amazing realisation and then the most horrible
questionings came rushing into my mind. They began leaping in the air,
first one and then the other, whooping and grunting. Then one slipped,
and for a moment was on all-fours,—to recover, indeed, forthwith.
But that transitory gleam of the true animalism of these monsters
was enough.
    I turned as noiselessly as possible, and becoming every now
and then rigid with the