LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER 18

       THE FINDING OF MOREAU

       Table of Contents

      When I saw Montgomery swallow a third dose of brandy I took it upon myself to interfere. He was already more than half fuddled. I told him that some serious thing must have happened to Moreau by this time, or he would have returned, and that it behoved 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 hot tropical afternoon is a singularly vivid impression. M’ling went first, his shoulders hunched, his strange black head moving with quick starts as he peered 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 sullenness 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.

      We took a narrow path through the wild luxuriance of the island, going northwestward. And presently M’ling 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,’ jabbered another.

      `We saw, we saw,’ said several voices.

      `Hul-lo!’ suddenly shouted Montgomery. `Hullo 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. M’ling made a growling noise in his throat. I recognised the Ape 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 them were the two dappled brutes, and that grey, horrible, crooked creature who said the Law, with grey hair streaming down its cheeks, heavy grey eyebrows, and grey 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 hiccoughed, `Who… said he was dead?’

      The Monkey Man looked guiltily at the Hairy Grey Thing. `He is dead,’ said this monster. They saw.’

      There was nothing threatening about this detachment at any rate. They seemed awestricken and puzzled. `Where is he?’ said Montgomery.

      `Beyond,’ and the grey creature pointed.

      `Is there a Law now?’ asked the Ape 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, thou Other with the whip? He is dead,’ said the Hairy Grey Thing. And they all stood watching us.

      `Prendick,’ said Montgomery, turning his dull eyes to me. `He’s dead — evidently.’

      I had been standing behind him during this colloquy. I began to see how things lay with them. I suddenly stepped in front of him and lifted up my voice: `Children of the Law,’ I said, `he is not dead.’

      M’ling 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 Ape 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 Grey Thing, still regarding me.

      `That’s well,’ grunted Montgomery.

      `The Other with the whip,’ began the Grey Thing.

      `Well?’ said I.

      `Said he was dead.’

      But Montgomery was still sober enough to understand my motive in denying Moreau’s death. `He is not dead,’ he said slowly. `Not dead at all. No more dead than me.

      `Some,’ said I, `have broken the Law. They will die. Some have died. Show us now where 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 Grey Thing.

      And with these six creatures guiding us, we went through the tumult of ferns and creepers and tree-stems towards the northwest. Then came a yelling, a crashing among the branches, and a little pink homunculus rushed by us shrieking. Immediately after appeared a feral monster in headlong pursuit, blood-bedabbled, who was amongst us almost before he could stop his career. The Grey Thing leapt aside; M’ling 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 M’ling, the dead brute, and the prostrate man. Montgomery raised himself slowly and stared in a muddled way at the shattered Beast Man beside him. It more than half sobered him. He scrambled to his feet. Then I saw the Grey 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 peered at the body. `He sends 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 yards further found at last what we sought. He lay face downwards in a trampled space in a cane brake.

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