H. Wells - The Greatest Sci-Fi Works of H. G. Wells

`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 Flesh or Fish; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’

`Not to claw 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 brute men was upon me, but deep down within me 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 shining 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 overarchings to mark the eyes and mouth.

`He has little nails,’ said this grisly creature in his hairy beard. `It is well. Many are troubled with big nails.’

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 each other.

`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 great 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 nor Fish; that is the Law. Are we not Men?”’

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

`For every one the want that 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.’

`None escape, said the men in the door.

`Some go clawing trees, some go scratching at the graves of the dead; some go fighting with foreheads or feet or claws; some bite suddenly, none giving occasion; some love uncleanness.’

`None escape,’ said the Ape Man, scratching his calf.

`None escape,’ said the little pink sloth creature.

`Punishment is sharp and sure. Therefore learn the Law. Say the words,’ and incontinently he began again the strange litany of the Law, and again I and all these creatures began singing and swaying. My head reeled with this jabbering and the close stench of the place, but I kept on, trusting to find presently some chance of a new development. `Not to go on all-Fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’

We were making such a noise that I noticed nothing of a tumult outside, until someone, who, I think was one of the two Swine Men I had seen, thrust his head over the little pink sloth creature and shouted something excitedly, something that I did not catch. Incontinently those at the opening of the hut vanished, my Ape Man rushed out, the thing that had sat in the dark followed him — I only observed it was big and clumsy, and covered with silvery hair, — and I was left alone.

Then before I reached the aperture I heard the yelp of a staghound.

In another moment I was standing outside the hovel, my chair-rail in my hand, every muscle of me quivering. Before me were the clumsy backs of perhaps a score of these Beast People, their misshapen heads half-hidden by their shoulder-blades. They were gesticulating excitedly. Other half-animal faces glared interrogation out of the hovels. Looking in the direction in which they faced I saw coming through the haze under the trees beyond the end of the passage of dens the dark figure and awful white face of Moreau. He was holding the leaping staghound back, and close behind him came Montgomery, revolver in hand.

For a moment I stood horrorstruck.

I turned and saw the passages behind me blocked by another heavy brute with a huge grey face and twinkling little eyes, advancing towards me. I looked round and saw to the right of me, and half a dozen yards in front of me, a narrow gap in the wall of rock through which a ray of light slanted into the shadows. `Stop!’ cried Moreau, as I strode toward this, and then, `Hold him!’ At that, first one face turned towards me, and then others. Their bestial minds were happily slow.

I dashed my shoulder into a clumsy monster who was turning to see what Moreau meant, and flung him foward into another. I felt his hands fly round, clutching at me and missing me. The little pink sloth creature dashed at me and I cut it over, gashed down its ugly face with the nail in my stick, and in another minute I was scrambling up a steep side pathway, a kind of sloping chimney out of the ravine. I heard a howl behind me, and cries of `Catch him!’ `Hold him!’ and the grey-faced creature appeared behind me and jammed his huge bulk into the cleft. `Go on, go on!’ they howled. I clambered up the narrow cleft in the rock, and came out upon the sulphur on the westward side of the village of the Beast Men.

I ran over the white space and down a steep slope through a scattered growth of trees, and came to a lowlying stretch of tall reeds. Through this I pushed into a dark thick undergrowth that was black and succulent under foot. That gap was altogether fortunate for me, for the narrow way slanting obliquely upward must have impeded the nearer pursuers. As I plunged into the reeds the foremost had only just emerged from the gap. I broke my way through the undergrowth for some minutes. The air behind me and above me was soon full of threatening cries. I heard the tumult of my pursuers in the gap up the slope, then the crashing of the reeds, and every now and then the crackling of a branch. Some of the creatures roared like excited beasts of prey. The staghound yelped to the left. I heard Moreau and Montgomery shouting in the same direction. I turned sharply to the right. It seemed to me even then that I heard Montgomery shouting for me to run for my life.