The Island of Doctor Moreau Part 10

"It is a man," the voice repeated. "He comes to live with us?"

It was a thick voice, with something in it--a kind of whistling overtone--that struck me as peculiar; but the English accent was strangely good.

The Ape-man looked at me as though he expected something.

I perceived the pause was interrogative. "He comes to live with you,"

I said.

"It is a man. He must learn the Law."

I began to distinguish now a deeper blackness in the black, a vague outline of a hunched-up figure. Then I noticed the opening of the place was darkened by two more black heads.

My hand tightened on my stick.

The thing in the dark repeated in a louder tone, "Say the words."

I had missed its last remark. "Not to go on all-fours; that is the Law,"

it repeated in a kind of sing-song.

I was puzzled.

"Say the words," said the Ape-man, repeating, and the figures in the doorway echoed this, with a threat in the tone of their voices.

I realised that I had to repeat this idiotic formula; and then began the insanest ceremony. The voice in the dark began intoning a mad litany, line by line, and I and the rest to repeat it.

As they did so, they swayed from side to side in the oddest way, and beat their hands upon their knees; and I followed their example.

I could have imagined I was already dead and in another world.

That dark hut, these grotesque dim figures, just flecked here and there by a glimmer of light, and all of them swaying in unison and chanting,

"Not to go on all-fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?

"Not to suck up Drink; that is the Law. Are we not Men?

"Not to eat Fish or Flesh; that is the Law. Are we not Men?

"Not to claw the Bark of Trees; that is the Law. Are we not Men?

"Not to chase other Men; that is the Law. Are we not Men?"

And so from the prohibition of these acts of folly, on to the prohibition of what I thought then were the maddest, most impossible, and most indecent things one could well imagine.

A kind of rhythmic fervour fell on all of us; we gabbled and swayed faster and faster, repeating this amazing Law.

Superficially the contagion of these brutes was upon me, but deep down within me the laughter and disgust struggled together.

We ran through a long list of prohibitions, and then the chant swung round to a new formula.

"_His_ is the House of Pain.

"_His_ is the Hand that makes.

"_His_ is the Hand that wounds.

"_His_ is the Hand that heals."

And so on for another long series, mostly quite incomprehensible gibberish to me about _Him_, whoever he might be. I could have fancied it was a dream, but never before have I heard chanting in a dream.

"_His_ is the lightning flash," we sang. "_His_ is the deep, salt sea."

A horrible fancy came into my head that Moreau, after animalising these men, had infected their dwarfed brains with a kind of deification of himself. However, I was too keenly aware of white teeth and strong claws about me to stop my chanting on that account.

"_His_ are the stars in the sky."

At last that song ended. I saw the Ape-man's face s.h.i.+ning with perspiration; and my eyes being now accustomed to the darkness, I saw more distinctly the figure in the corner from which the voice came.

It was the size of a man, but it seemed covered with a dull grey hair almost like a Skye-terrier. What was it? What were they all?

Imagine yourself surrounded by all the most horrible cripples and maniacs it is possible to conceive, and you may understand a little of my feelings with these grotesque caricatures of humanity about me.

"He is a five-man, a five-man, a five-man--like me," said the Ape-man.

I held out my hands. The grey creature in the corner leant forward.

"Not to run on all-fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?"

he said.

He put out a strangely distorted talon and gripped my fingers.

The thing was almost like the hoof of a deer produced into claws.

I could have yelled with surprise and pain. His face came forward and peered at my nails, came forward into the light of the opening of the hut and I saw with a quivering disgust that it was like the face of neither man nor beast, but a mere shock of grey hair, with three shadowy over-archings to mark the eyes and mouth.

"He has little nails," said this grisly creature in his hairy beard.

"It is well."

He threw my hand down, and instinctively I gripped my stick.

"Eat roots and herbs; it is His will," said the Ape-man.

"I am the Sayer of the Law," said the grey figure. "Here come all that be new to learn the Law. I sit in the darkness and say the Law."

"It is even so," said one of the beasts in the doorway.

"Evil are the punishments of those who break the Law.

None escape."

"None escape," said the Beast Folk, glancing furtively at one another.

"None, none," said the Ape-man,--"none escape. See! I did a little thing, a wrong thing, once. I jabbered, jabbered, stopped talking.

None could understand. I am burnt, branded in the hand. He is great.

He is good!"

"None escape," said the grey creature in the corner.

"None escape," said the Beast People, looking askance at one another.

"For every one the want that is bad," said the grey Sayer of the Law.

"What you will want we do not know; we shall know. Some want to follow things that move, to watch and slink and wait and spring; to kill and bite, bite deep and rich, sucking the blood.

It is bad. 'Not to chase other Men; that is the Law.

Are we not Men? Not to eat Flesh or Fish; that is the Law. Are we not Men?'"

"None escape," said a dappled brute standing in the doorway.

"For every one the want is bad," said the grey Sayer of the Law.

"Some want to go tearing with teeth and hands into the roots of things, snuffing into the earth. It is bad."