Chapter 23 Chapter 22: The Alone Fox

In the evening, taking advantage of the soft southwest wind, I sailed out to sea.The boat moved forward slowly and steadily, the island became smaller and smaller, and the curling green smoke hovering upwards, in the afterglow of the hot sunset, fluttered into a thinner and thinner line of blue silk that could be faintly seen.The sea swelled around me, and the little black spot, low, disappeared from my vision.The sunlight, the afterglow of the sun trailing its tail, shot out strips of light in the sky, and at this time it was dragged to the side again, presenting a dazzling light curtain.At last I peeped out into the vast, azure gulf, shaded by the sun, and saw a flotsam of floating stars.Silent sea, silent sky, I am alone with night and silence.

In this way, I drifted for three days, reluctant to eat, reluctant to drink, thinking about everything that happened around me, and at that time I was not very eager to see people in the world again.His body was wrapped in an extremely dirty rag, and his hair was tangled into black clumps.Anyone who finds me must think I'm crazy.Strange to say, I didn't feel that longing to return to the human world.I'm just glad I'm finally out of the filth and disgusting meanness of the monsters.On the third day I was picked up by a brig with brig sailing from Abia to San Francisco.Neither the captain nor the sailors believed my experience, and judged that solitude and danger must have driven me mad.Fearing that their opinion might also be that of others, I refrained from further relating my adventures, and pretended to have some knowledge of the period from the incident with the steamshipman of the "Lady Vaing" to my recovery. I can't remember exactly what happened during that time—a year passed between them.

I had to exercise extreme caution lest I should come under the suspicion of being insane.Memories of the law, of the two dead sailors, of the ambush in the dark, of the dead body among the vines and bamboos haunt me.It seemed unnatural, but what came with my return was not the kind of trust and sympathy I expected, but a sense of insecurity and fear that I had experienced on the island. And the feeling was strangely intensified.No one will believe me, and I am almost as queer to the people of the world as I was to the orcs.I can understand my partner's waywardness. They say terror is a disease, and anyway, I can attest to it.It's been a few years, but an uneasy fear is still deeply rooted in my brain. This uneasy fear is like that felt by a half-tamed lion cub.My distress manifested itself in the strangest of ways.I can't be sure that the men and women I've met aren't just another orc who still retains a minimally human form, as if they're also animals half-made in the appearance of human avatars, and they'll immediately begin to metamorphose, first Take on this and then that animal quality.I confided my truth to a very capable man who had known Moreau and who seemed to take my experience with a grain of salt, and who was also a psychiatrist--who helped me immensely .

Although I don't expect to be able to get rid of all the memories of the horror of the island forever, in most cases, it just exists far away in the depths of my memory, just a distant cloud of smoke, a kind of Something left in the memory, a vague and faint feeling of doubt.Sometimes, however, that small cloud of smoke spreads until it covers the entire sky.Then I looked around and looked at my companions.So I was on tenterhooks again.Of the faces I saw, some were sharp and bright, some were stupid or dangerous, some were capricious and insincere, and none had the power to calmly control a rational soul.I felt as if the bestiality was flooding their bodies, and the degeneration of the orcs on the island would soon spread on a larger scale.I know it's an illusion, these men and women around me who look like they are real, are real men and women, will always be men and women, perfectly rational creatures, full of human hope and kindness Zealous, freed from instinct, no longer a slave to any whimsical law—in short, a human being quite different from the orcs.Even so, I still shy away from them, from their curious eyes, from their inquiries and help, especially longing to leave them and be alone.

For this reason I live near the wide and pleasant hills, so that I may take refuge there when this shadow hangs over my soul; The hills are very flattering.When I lived in London, the fear was almost unbearable, I couldn't get away from the people around me, their voices came from the windows, and even locked doors were not enough protection.I'd rather get out into the street and wrestle with my hallucinations.Quietly wandering women would murmur behind me; furtive and eager men cast envious glances at me; Bleeding like a wounded deer, with weary eyes and hasty gait; stooped, dull, gloomy old men, talking to themselves, murmured past, ignoring those who followed. , ragged, naughty children.Then I would avoid it and go into the chapel, but even there I was just as panicked and disturbed, the preacher babbled, and somehow he talked like an ape talking about "big thoughts" Same.Or I could walk into the library, where the faces of thoughtless, single-minded people buried in their books all looked like patient guys waiting on their backs.Especially annoying were the pale, expressionless faces on the trains and stagecoaches, which seemed more like corpses than my companions.So unless I'm sure I'm alone, I'm afraid to travel.And though I don't seem to be a rational being, only an animal whose mind is plagued by strange disturbances is sent out to wander alone, like a sheep whose mind is sickened by tapeworm larvae .

But, thank God, that mood doesn't come up so often these days.I have escaped the troubles of the city and the crowd, and now I am the bright window of our kind of life in the light of the radiant souls of men--that is, I spend my time surrounded by books of great wisdom.I rarely meet strangers, and only form a small court.I devoted all my time to books and experiments in chemistry, and I spent countless moonlit and starry nights in the study of astronomy.Although I don't know how or why, there is a sense of infinite peace and protection among the luminous orbs of sun, moon and stars.It seems to me that anything more than the animals that exists within us must find its consolation and hope in the immensity and eternal laws of matter, and not in the daily cares and sins and vexations of man.I hope, otherwise I cannot live.Thus, in hope and solitude, my story ends.

Edward Prendick