THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU - H. G. Wells - ebook + audiobook


H G Wells



This eBook edition of "THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU" has been formatted to the highest digital standards and adjusted for readability on all devices. THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU is a science fiction classic, called "an exercise in youthful blasphemy". The text of the novel is the narration of Edward Prendick, a shipwrecked man rescued by a passing boat who is left on the island home of Doctor Moreau, who creates human-like beings from animals via vivisection. The novel deals with a number of philosophical themes, including pain and cruelty, moral responsibility, human identity, and human interference with nature. Herbert George Wells (1866 - 1946), known as H. G. Wells, was a prolific English writer in many genres, including the novel, history, politics, and social commentary, and textbooks and rules for war games.

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Lektor: The Island Of Moreau


H. G. Wells


Published by


- Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -
2017 OK Publishing
ISBN 978-80-272-3642-8

Table of Contents

Chapter 1. In the Dinghy of the Lady Vain
Chapter 2. The Man Who was Going Nowhere
Chapter 3. The Strange Face
Chapter 4. At the Schooner’s Rail
Chapter 5. The Landing on the Island
Chapter 6. The Evil-Looking Boatmen
Chapter 7. The Locked Door
Chapter 8. The Crying of the Puma
Chapter 9. The Thing in the Forest
Chapter 10. The Crying of the Man
Chapter 11. The Hunting of the Man
Chapter 12. The Sayers of the Law
Chapter 13. A Parley
Chapter 14. Doctor Moreau Explains
Chapter 15. Concerning the Beast Folk
Chapter 16. How the Beast Folk Tasted Blood
Chapter 17. A Catastrophe
Chapter 18. The Finding of Moreau
Chapter 19. Montgomery’s `bank Holiday’
Chapter 20. Alone with the Beast Folk
Chapter 21. The Reversion of the Beast Folk
Chapter 22. The Man Alone


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ON February the First 1887, the Lady Vain was lost by collision with a derelict when about the latitude 1° S. and longitude 107° W.

On January the Fifth, 1888 — that is eleven months and four days after — my uncle, Edward Prendick, a private gentleman, who certainly went aboard the Lady Vain at Callao, and who had been considered drowned, was picked up in latitude 5° 32 S. and longitude 101° W. in a small open boat of which the name was illegible, but which is supposed to have belonged to the missing schooner Ipecacuanha. He gave such a strange account of himself that he was supposed demented. Subsequently he alleged that his mind was a blank from the moment of his escape from the Lady Vain. His case was discussed among psychologists at the time as a curious instance of the lapse of memory consequent upon physical and mental stress. The following narrative was found among his papers by the undersigned, his nephew and heir, but unaccompanied by any definite request for publication.

The only island known to exist in the region in which my uncle was picked up is Noble’s Isle, a small volcanic islet and uninhabited. It was visited in 1891 by H. M. S. Scorpion. A party of sailors then landed, but found nothing living thereon except certain curious white moths, some hogs and rabbits, and some rather peculiar rats. So that this narrative is without confirmation in its most essential particular. With that understood, there seems no harm in putting this strange story before the public in accordance, as I believe, with my uncle’s intentions. There is at least this much in its behalf: my uncle passed out of human knowledge about latitude 5° S. and longitude 105° E., and reappeared in the same part of the ocean after a space of eleven months. In some way he must have lived during the interval. And it seems that a schooner called the Ipecacuanha with a drunken captain, John Davies, did start from Africa with a puma and certain other animals aboard in January, 1887, that the vessel was well known at several ports in the South Pacific, and that it finally disappeared from those seas (with a considerable amount of copra aboard), sailing to its unknown fate from Bayna in December, 1887, a date that tallies entirely with my uncle’s story.

CHARLES EDWARD PRENDICK. (The Story written by Edward Prendick)


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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 long-boat with seven of the crew was picked up eighteen days after by H.M. gunboat Myrtle, and the story of their privations has become almost as well known as the far more terrible Medusa case. I have now, however, to add to the published story of the Lady Vain another as horrible, and certainly far stranger. It has hitherto been supposed that the four men who were in the dinghy perished, but this is incorrect. I have the best evidence for this assertion — I am one of the four men.

But, in the first place, I must state that there never were four men in the dinghy; the number was three. Constans, who was `seen by the captain to jump into the gig’ (Daily News, March 17, 1887), 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 also add luckily for himself, for there were 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 mid-day — we could see nothing of them. We could not stand up to look about us because of the pitching of the boat. The sea ran in great rollers, and we had much ado to keep the boat’s head to them. 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 all had in mind. I remember our voices 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 gunwhale 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 skyline. 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 they should come too late by such a little to catch me in my body.

For an endless period it seemed to me, I lay with my head on the thwart watching the dancing 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 is 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.


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The cabin in which I found myself was small and rather untidy. A youngish man with flaxen hair, a bristly straw-coloured moustache, and a dropping nether lip was sitting and holding my wrist. For a minute we stared at one another without speaking. He had watery grey expressionless eyes.

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 again.

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 queer marks on the gunwhale.’ 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 Davis — 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 arms 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. `May I have 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 how you came to be alone in the boat.’ I thought I detected a certain suspicion in his eyes.

`Damn that howling!’

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 dullness 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 presently to the topic of natural history and his own biological studies. He began to question me closely about Tottenhan 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 doing 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 forthwith.

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, he said, 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 for 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 wilfully stupid of a sudden that it came into my head that he desired to avoid my questions. `I’m ready,’ I said. He lead the way out of the cabin.


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At the companion was a man 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.

The black face thus flashed upon me startled 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 bloodshot 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 blackfaced man started aside without a word.

I went on up the companion, still staring at him almost against my will 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 blackfaced man cowered. `They… won’t have me forward.’ He spoke slowly, with a 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 halfway through the hatchway, looking back, still astonished beyond measure at the grotesque ugliness of this blackfaced 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 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. Further 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 stared side by side for a space at the water foaming under the stern and the bubbles dancing and vanishing in her wake. I turned and surveyed the unsavoury 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 coming from the companion hatchway, and the deformed man with the black face clambered 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 with his fist. The poor devil went down like a felled ox, and rolled in the dirt among the furiously excited dogs. It was lucky for him 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 violently. `Steady on there!’ he cried, in a tone of remonstrance. A couple of sailors appeared on the forecastle.

The blackfaced 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 bodies over the clumsy prostrate figure. The sailors forward shouted to them as though it was admirable sport. Montgomery gave an angry exclamation, and went striding down the deck. I followed him.

In another second the blackfaced man had scrambled up and was staggering forward. He stumbled up against 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 sidepockets.

`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 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 an ugly temper, 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 the 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 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 vigour. But at any rate I prevented a fight.


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