Остров доктора Моро
The Reversion of the Beast Folk.
Iturnedoncemore,almostpassionatelynow,tohammeringtogetherstakesandbranchestoformaraftformyescape.
Ifoundathousanddifficulties.Iamanextremelyunhandyman(myschoolingwasoverbeforethedaysofSlojd);butmostoftherequirementsofaraftImetatlastinsomeclumsy,circuitouswayorother,andthistimeItookcareofthestrength.TheonlyinsurmountableobstaclewasthatIhadnovesseltocontainthewaterIshouldneedifIfloatedforthupontheseuntravelledseas.Iwouldhaveeventriedpottery,buttheislandcontainednoclay.Iusedtogomopingabouttheislandtryingwithallmymighttosolvethisonelastdifficulty.SometimesIwouldgivewaytowildoutburstsofrage,andhackandsplintersomeunluckytreeinmyintolerablevexation.ButIcouldthinkofnothing.
Andthencameaday,awonderfulday,whichIspentinecstasy.Isawasailtothesouthwest,asmallsaillikethatofalittleschooner;andforthwithIlitagreatpileofbrushwood,andstoodbyitintheheatofit,andtheheatofthemiddaysun,watching.AlldayIwatchedthatsail,eatingordrinkingnothing,sothatmyheadreeled;andtheBeastscameandglaredatme,andseemedtowonder,andwentaway.Itwasstilldistantwhennightcameandswalloweditup;andallnightItoiledtokeepmyblazebrightandhigh,andtheeyesoftheBeastsshoneoutofthedarkness,marvelling.Inthedawnthesailwasnearer,andIsawitwasthedirtylug-sailofasmallboat.Butitsailedstrangely.
