The Island of Doctor Moreau | Page 9

his odd, pallid face in the dim light of the binnacle lantern behind me.
Then I looked out at the darkling sea, where in the dimness his little island was hidden.
This man, it seemed to me, had come out of Immensity merely to save my life.
To-morrow he would drop over the side, and vanish again out of my existence. Even had
it been under commonplace circumstances, it would have made me a trifle thoughtful; but
in the first place was the 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 want with the beasts? Why, too, had he
pretended they were not his when I had remarked about them at first? Then, again, in his
personal attendant there was a bizarre quality which had impressed me profoundly. These
circumstances threw a haze of mystery round the man. They laid hold of my imagination,
and hampered my tongue.
Towards midnight our talk of London died away, and we stood side by side leaning over
the bulwarks and staring dreamily over 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
would have been now!"
This damped my mood a little. "At any rate," I began.
"It's chance, I tell you," he interrupted, "as everything is in a 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 enjoying all the pleasures of London? Simply because eleven years ago-- I lost 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-- if that'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 better to keep your secret. There's
nothing gained but a little relief if I respect your confidence. If I don't--well?"
He grunted undecidedly. I felt I had him at a disadvantage, had caught him in the mood
of indiscretion; and to tell the truth I was not curious to 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 shoulder quickly with my movement,
then looked away again.
It may seem a little thing to you, perhaps, but it came like a sudden blow 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 dimness of the stern towards this illumination, and I saw that the eyes
that glanced at me shone with a pale-green light. I did not know then that a reddish
luminosity, at least, is not uncommon in human eyes. The thing came to me as stark
inhumanity. That black figure with its eyes 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 figure of a man, a
figure of no particular import, hung over the taffrail against the starlight, and I found
Montgomery was speaking to me.

"I'm thinking of turning in, then," said he, "if you've had enough of this."
I answered him incongruously. We went below, and he wished me good-night at the door
of my cabin.
That night I had some very unpleasant dreams. The waning moon rose late. Its light
struck a ghostly white beam across my 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 approach of dawn.

V. THE MAN WHO HAD NOWHERE TO GO.
IN the early morning (it