Chapter 22 Chapter 21 Orc Metamorphosis

In this way, I became one of the orcs on the island of the orcs, the orcs on Dr. Moreau's island.When I woke up, it was already nightfall.The wounded arm in the bandage hurt like hell.I sat up, at first having no idea where I was.All I could hear was a rough voice speaking outside.Then I saw that the fence was gone, and the exits of the den were wide open.The pistol is still in my hand. I heard something panting, and saw it huddled close to me.I held my breath and tried hard to see what it was.I saw it moving slowly and endlessly.Something soft, hot, and wet rubbed against my hand. All my muscles tensed up.I pulled my hand away.Just about to let out a scream, but he suffocated in his throat again, and was stifled back.It was only then that I realized what had happened, and was so conscious that I kept clutching the pistol tightly in my hand. "Who is it?"

"I, master." "Who are you?" "They say there's no owner now. But I know, I know. I carried the bodies into the sea, oh, you're the one who walked into the sea, and you killed those bodies. I'm you slave, master." "Was it you that I met on the beach?" "Exactly, master." This guy is obviously loyal, otherwise he could have jumped on me while I was asleep. "Good," I said, reaching out for him to lick again, sort of a kiss.I began to realize what he meant by guarding me, and I suddenly gained some courage. "Where are the others?" I asked.

"They're all crazy. They're all fools," said Dogman. "They're still yelling about there now. They say, 'The master is dead, and so is the other man with the whip. The other man who went into the sea—like us. We have no more masters, no more There's the whip, and there's no more house of pain, it's at last. We love the law, and we'll keep it, but there'll be no more pain, master, and whip." That's what they say. But I know, master, I know." I groped in the dark and patted the Dogman on the head. "Very good," I said again.

"You're going to kill them all in a minute," said the Dogman. "Instantly," I answered, "in a few days, after what has happened, I will kill them all. Every one of them, except those whom you have forgiven, will be The fate of destruction." "The master kills whoever the master wants to kill," he said.There was a certain satisfaction in the Dogman's voice. "And their crimes against the law may increase," said I. "Let them linger in folly and debauchery till their death. Let them not know that I am the master." "As the owner likes," said the Dogman with the ready-made tact of purebred dogs.

"But one man has sinned," I said. "If I touch him, I must kill him. I say to you, 'This is him,' and you must try to get on him.—Now I'm going to the assembled male and female orcs .” The figure of the dog man walking out blocked the exit of the cave for a while.Then I went out, too, and stood almost in the same spot where I had heard Moreau and his deerhounds chasing me.But it was night, and the foul-smelling canyon around me was pitch black, and a little further away, instead of a sun-drenched hillside with lush trees and green grass, I saw a bunch of red bonfires.In front of the fire, a shrugged, deformed figure moved back and forth.Farther on was a dense forest, its branches and treetops fringed with black, above the black-outlined banks.The moon was now rising over the edge of the canyon, and the steam from the island's volcanic fumaroles swirled and flew like a band of light across its face.

"Don't walk away from Do," I said.I plucked up my courage, and walked down the narrow path side by side with him, not paying attention to the vague figures peering at us from the den. None of the people around the fire tried to salute me.Most people just ignore me - smugly.I looked around for the Hyenabog, but he wasn't there. There were about twenty orcs squatting around the fire, some were gazing at the fire, some were talking to each other. "He's dead, he's dead, the master is dead," said the ape-man's voice to my right. "The Pain House—there's no more Pain House."

"He's not dead," I exclaimed, "and even now he's watching us." This startled them all.Twenty pairs of eyes were fixed on me. "The pain room is gone," I said. "But it will come back again. Master, you can't see it. But even now, he is listening above you." "Really, really!" said the Dogman. They were all shocked by my decisive words.Although animals are vicious and cunning enough, they think that only pure people tell lies, so they have no doubts about me, whom they regard as the same kind. "Strange things the man with the bandaged arm said," said one of the orcs.

"I tell you, it is true," I said. "The Master and the House of Pain will return. Disaster will befall those who break the law!" They looked at each other in amazement.I deliberately pretended to be indifferent, and used my ax to lazily chop the slope in front of me.I noticed that they were all looking at the deep trench I had dug in the grass. Then, the ape-goat man who looked like a forest god raised a question.I answered him.After a while, a mottled guy demurred.Immediately, there was a heated discussion around the bonfire.As time passed, I became more and more convinced that my current situation was safe and secure.When I speak now, I don't choke as much as I did at first because of the extreme nervousness.For an hour or so I did convince a few of the orcs that what I said was entirely true, while convincing most of the others half-believed.

I kept an eye out for my enemy, the Hyenabog, but he never appeared again.Suspicious noises spooked me from time to time, but I quickly gained confidence. The moon unknowingly moved westward from the center, and the orc audience yawned one after another (unique teeth were revealed in the afterglow of the smoldering fire), first one, and then another, and they all returned to the house in the canyon. I went to sleep in the hole.And I, more apprehensive in the silence and darkness, went with them.I know very well that it is safer to be with several of them than to be alone with one of them. Thus began my longer period of sojourn life on the orc-island, Dr. Moreau's.But from that night till the conclusion, apart from an innumerable series of unpalatable details and constant distress from life's discomfort, it so happened that only one event worth telling happened.So for this period of time, I don't want to make any more memorabilia, but just want to say one main thing that happened during the ten months I spent as a close friend of these semi-human animals.I do have quite a few memorable things to write about, which I would rather happily have my right hand forget.But these things do not help the narrative of the story.In reminiscing about the past, I strangely recall how quickly I adapted to the ways of these monsters and regained my trust.There were quarrels, of course, and even I was left with teeth-marks, but they were quick to develop a not unhelpful respect for my stone-throwing skills and my axe's prowess.And the incomparable loyalty of my dog-man, who is like a big dog in a Swiss monastery, has been of great benefit to me.I find that their simple measure of honor is based largely on the ability to inflict deep wounds on others.I can really say--and I hope to say it without any pretension--that among them I enjoy a sort of superiority that amounts to excellence.In various quarrels, I once left one or two of them with a pretty serious scar.These guys have a deep hatred for me, but it's mostly behind my back, at a safe distance from my flying rocks, that one or two dare to grimace;

The hyena pig has been avoiding me, and I have been wary of him.The dog man who is inseparable from me hates him deeply, but is extremely afraid of him.I'm sure that's the root cause of this guy's attachment to me.Soon I figured out that the hyena-pig man had also tasted blood, and he had followed the example of the Leopard Man and walked on the path of the Leopard Man.The hyena pig made a lair somewhere in the woods, and walked alone.At one point, I tried to induce the orcs to hunt him down, but I didn't have the authority to make them cooperate with each other for a common goal.I tried to get close to his lair more than once, and I encountered him many times by accident, but he was always very wary of me, always found me, bypassed me, and ran away.He came and went in ambushes here and there, so that every forest path became dangerous for me and my allies, and the dog-man hardly dared to leave my side.

For the first month or so, the orcs were pretty human compared to what they were after, and I even had a sort of tolerable friendliness for one or two other than my dog ​​friends .The little pink sloth-like monster also expressed a strange affection for me, and always liked to follow me around.But the apes bore me to death.With five fingers on his hand, he thought he was my equal, and he babbled to me all day long, babbling on with some big, well-known nonsense.One of the things that comforted me a little about him was that he had a curious and amusing eccentricity for inventing new words.I'm sure he must have had an idea that it's proper use of language to babble out meaningless names.He called it "big thinking" to distinguish it from "little thinking"—the legitimate interests of everyday life.Whenever I say something that he doesn't understand, he applauds and compliments, let me say it again, take it by heart, and go to all the kinder orcs who are kinder and gentler, either there is a typo or There almost repeated it word by word.He is indifferent to what is enlightenment and what is understanding.I created some very weird "big ideas" just for him.I think now that he was the stupidest fellow I ever met; he showed in the most beautiful way the special stupidity of man who has not lost one bit of his ape-born stupidity.These, I say, were my first few weeks alone with the beasts.Here they still respect the customs established by the law, and behave in accordance with general decorum.Once, I found another rabbit that had been torn to pieces, which I was sure must have been done by the Hyenapig, but it didn't go any further.It was not until about May that I first noticed a growing difference in their manners, their pronunciation becoming more and more hoarse and at the same time less and less talkative.The ape-man's babbling, from the point of view of his talkativeness, has not diminished; but from an understandable point of view, it has gone from bad to worse, and he is becoming more and more ape-like.Some of the other orcs, though they still understood what I meant to them at the time, seemed to be slowly losing their grip on the conversation altogether.Can you imagine such a scenario? ——The language was once so clear and precise, with a soft tone, like gurgling water, but gradually lost its originality and meaning, and became nothing more than a string of lumpy sounds.In addition, they have increasing difficulty walking upright.Notwithstanding their obvious self-ashamedness, I still now and then catch one or the other, running on all fours on toes and fingertips, with little ability to regain an upright position.Their hands are getting clumsy, they sip and drink, and they bite and eat.These are becoming more and more common among orcs by the day.I was more conscious than ever of what Moreau had said to me of the "obstinate bestiality."They are metamorphosing, metamorphosing very rapidly. I noticed with some surprise that among those orcs, the first ones to transform were all women.The orcs began to disregard the injunctions to decorum, mostly on purpose.Some other orcs even violated the monogamy rule in broad daylight.The conventions of law are clearly losing their power.I cannot continue on this unpleasant subject.The dog man quietly and unknowingly returned to the normal state of a dog. He became speechless day by day, walked on all fours, and was covered with hair again.I hardly noticed this transformation in him. Before I knew it, he had changed from a companion who acted as my right-hand man to a dog who shambled and followed me.With inattentiveness, chaos and disintegration increasing, our never-so-comfortable canyon lodgings became so repulsive that I had to abandon them, cross the isle, and use twigs among the sooty ruins of Morrow Paddock. Build yourself a hut.I find that the orcs have some painful memories that make it the safest place. It is impossible to describe every step of the degeneration of these monsters, how they lost their human form day by day, how they threw away their bandages and wrappings, and finally became completely naked, what happened to their naked limbs and feet. How hairy they grew again, how their foreheads receded, how their faces protruded, the human-like intimacy I had allowed myself with some orcs during my first month alone.How did it become a horrible memory. This change is slow and inevitable.This change occurred without any apparent consternation, either to them or to me.When I went among the beasts, I was safe and sound, because in this downward and degenerate change, there was no sudden shock, and therefore no factors that gradually replaced human nature and gradually increased to stimulate the outbreak of animal nature have not yet arisen.But I began to fear that, sooner or later, this kind of shock was bound to happen.The Dogman followed me to the paddock, and his vigilance allowed me to sleep for a while in what seemed to be a peaceful time.The little pink sloth-like monster, getting shy, left me and crawled back among the branches to live a wild life.We are exactly in a state of equilibrium, as would be the case with a large cage of "Happy Family" exhibited by the tamer, if the tamer never touched the cage again. Of course, these guys didn't degenerate into the beasts that readers have seen in the zoo--they didn't degenerate into ordinary bears, wolves, tigers, cows, pigs, and monkeys.There is still something special about every degenerate orc.In each of the orcs in which Moreau had made this animal and that one, there were chiefly bearish traits.Some are mainly cat-like, some are mainly cow-like, but each of them is contaminated with some characteristics of other animals—like a comprehensive beast-like characteristic reflected through specific configurations and arrangements. .The waning bits of humanity in these orcs still startle me from time to time; momentarily perhaps the resumption of speech, the unexpected dexterity of the front feet, and the pathetic attempt to walk upright. I must have also undergone a strange change. The clothes hanging empty on my body are like pieces of yellow torn sacks, and my tanned skin is exposed from the numerous openings.The hair was long and all matted and matted.Even now, people still tell me that my eyes are shining with a strange light, and the eyeballs are moving rapidly, showing an air of vigilance at all times. At first I spent my days on the south beach, expecting, hoping and begging for a boat.As the year wore on, I counted the dates for the Tucan's return, but she never showed up.Five times I saw sails, three times I saw smoke, but nothing ever came to the island.I had always prepared a bonfire, but the island's reputation for ever-present volcanic eruptions no doubt made it useless as a signal. It wasn't until about September or October that I began to think of building a raft.By then my arm was healed, and both hands were at my service again.At first, I found myself astonishingly incompetent.I've never been a carpenter or anything like that in my life, but I've been out in the woods day after day experimenting with staking and tying rafts.No rope and can't touch anything that can be used to make a rope.The tangles of vines here and there don't seem to be pliable enough, and with all the messy stocks of science education in my stomach, I can't think of any way to make them pliable.In the black ruins of the paddock, on the sand where two boats had burned, I spent more than two dry spells digging here and there, looking for nails and other stray bits of metal that might actually be usable.Some orcs come and stare at me now and then, but when I call him, he hops away again.Then came the season of thunderstorms, which greatly delayed my work, but at last the raft was tied. Looking at the tied wooden raft, I was overjoyed.But for want of some sense of practicality, which has been my Achilles' heel, I fastened it more than a mile out to sea, and the raft fell apart before I could drag it to the sand. Stand up.Maybe that's good, so I don't have to push it into the water.At that time, because of this failure, I was so sad that I spent several days in a daze on the beach, staring at the water and thinking about dying. But I wasn't about to die, and an accident happened to wake me soberly, warning me that it would be foolish to pass the days away like this -- because each passing day hides and fills with The ever-increasing danger of monsters (let's just call them gargoyles, since they're no longer orcs).One day I was lying in the shadow of the paddock wall, looking out to sea, when something touched the skin of my heel and startled me, I looked around in surprise and saw that little pink The sloth-like guy was blinking right into my face.It has long since lost the ability to speak and be active.The little animal's long, soft hair grew thicker and denser day by day, and its thick, short claws became more crooked. When it saw that it had attracted my attention, it groaned and moved towards the bushes. Cong ran a few steps, then looked back at me. 【①Because the orcs have degenerated into monsters, the pronouns referring to monsters below are also changed from "he" to "she" to "it". 】 At first I didn't understand it, but I thought for a moment that it wanted me to obey it, and then I followed it slowly-because it was too hot.We came to the woods, and it climbed up and into the woods, for it walked better on the swaying branches of the woods than on the ground. Suddenly, in a trampled clearing, I encountered a group of ghost-like monsters.The dog man who always followed me was lying on the ground, dead, and the hyena pig man curled up next to the corpse, still clutching the bloody flesh of the dog man with its deformed claws, biting and gnawing, And howled happily.As I approached it, the monster raised its glowing eyes toward me.The lips trembled back, revealing the blood-stained fangs, which growled menacingly at me.The creature was neither afraid nor ashamed—there was not even the last ounce of humanity left in him.I took another step forward, stopped, and drew my pistol.I finally found it face to face. The beast showed no sign of fleeing.But its ears were stuck to the back, its hair stood on end, and its body curled up into a ball.I aimed between its eyes and fired.Just at the same moment, the fellow leaped straight at me, and I was knocked about like a peg in skittles by a ball.This guy grabbed me firmly with its crippled hand, and hit me on the face with one claw.It sprang and flew over my head.I was completely crushed under the back half of its body. Fortunately, my shot did not miss, and the moment it jumped forward, it was shot dead.I crawled out from under its filthy dead body, stood up tremblingly, and stared at its still twitching body.At least the danger is over.But I knew that this was only the beginning of a series of relapses that were bound to happen. I burned the two bodies on a pile of pyre.Now I see very clearly that unless I leave this island, it will only be a matter of time before I die.By then, with one or two exceptions, all the monsters had long since left the gorge, and had made lairs for themselves, according to their own taste, in the depths of the island's dense woods.Only a few gargoyles sneak around during the day, and most sleep during the day.To a newcomer, the island seemed deserted and desolate.But at night, their calls and howls sounded in the air, making people frightened.I really wanted to do a massacre of them,--set traps, or fight them with knives.If I had enough bullets, I would start the carnage without hesitation.At that time, there were less than twenty of these dangerous carnivores left, and the more valiant and fierce ones were already gone.After the death of my last friend, my poor dog, I also got into the habit of napping more or less during the day, so as to be alert at night.I rebuilt a hut in the wall of the paddock, and made the entrance so narrow that whoever tried to enter was bound to make a considerable noise.The fellows also forgot the art of making fire, and became afraid of fire again.Again I set about nailing together stakes and branches, and this time with almost great zeal, to build a raft for my escape. I ran into countless difficulties.I am a curiously stupid person—my school days were over before the period of technical education originating in Sweden began—yet, in one way or another, clumsily, laboriously and far-sightedly, I was content to prepare wood. Most of the requirements, and this time I paid special attention to the strength of the raft.The only insurmountable difficulty was that I had no container for the fresh water I would need if I were to wander in this unnavigated sea.I'm really even going to try making pottery, too bad there's no clay on the island.I walked up and down the island for a long time, depressed.All efforts were made to try to resolve this last difficulty.Sometimes I couldn't help getting into a fit of rage, almost mad, and in a fit of unbearable distraction I hacked and hacked at some unlucky trees.But I can't think of any way.It was not long before that day came, and it was a wonderful day that I spent in ecstasy.I saw a sail to the southwest, a little sail like a schooner's sail, and I lit a great pile of wood at once, and I was in the heat of the fire, in the heat of the noonday sun , stood by the fire and watched.I stared at the little boat all day long, neither eating nor drinking, until at last I felt dizzy and dizzy.The monsters came and stared at me, they all seemed puzzled, and walked away again.The boat was still far from the island when night fell and engulfed the boat in darkness.All night, I worked tirelessly to make the bonfire bright red and bright, and the flames were burning high.The eyes of the monsters gleamed from the darkness, watching in amazement.After daylight the boat came nearer to the island, and I saw that it was a dirty gaff-sail attached to it.My eyes are sore, I stare, but I can't believe my eyes.There were two men in the boat, both seated low, one at the bow and one at the rudder.The boat moved very strangely, the bow of the boat was not facing the wind, the boat went off course, and did not ride the wind. It was getting brighter, and I started to shake the last rag of my coat at them, but they didn't notice me, and the two of them were still sitting face to face.I went to the bottom of the low headland, gesturing and shouting.There was no response, and the boat continued to drift along its aimless channel, slowly, very slowly, drifting into the depths of the bay.A big white bird suddenly flew up from the boat, but the two people were not alarmed, or turned a blind eye to it.The big bird circled over the boat, and then flew over my head with its powerful wings outstretched. I stopped calling, and sat on the headland, gazing intently with my cheek in my hand.Slowly, slowly, the little boat sailed past here and drifted west.I would have plunged into the water and swam to the boat if a cold vague fear had not seized me.In the afternoon the tide grounded the boat, which was left about a hundred yards west of the ruins of the paddock. Everyone in the boat was dead, and dead for so long, that when I tipped the side of the boat and dragged them out, both of them were broken.One of them, with wild red hair much like the captain of the Tucan, had a dirty white hat thrown on the bottom of the boat.I was standing by the side of the boat when three monsters sneaked out of the bushes, ran up to me, and sniffed at me.Immediately, I vomited and convulsed all over my body.I pushed the boat off the sand and climbed aboard.Two werewolves among the monsters stepped forward with twitching nostrils and bright eyes; the third monster was the indescribably terrifying bear-bullman. As I watched them approach the wreckage, heard them howl at each other, and caught glimpses of their gleaming teeth, I was followed by a feeling of insanity-like horror.I turned my back to them, pulled down the squaresail, and paddled out to sea.I couldn't bear to look back at them again.That night I anchored the boat between the reef and the islet.The next morning, I walked around in a circle to the creek and filled the empty barrels in the boat with water.Then, with as controlled patience as possible, I gathered some wild fruit, and with the last three bullets I ambushed and killed two rabbits.During this time I moored the boat and tied it to a ledge projecting from the reef to the islet, so as to keep it safe from monsters.