Остров доктора Моро
The Man Who Was Going Nowhere
Ineveraskedwhereshecamefrominthebeginning,—outofthelandofbornfools,Iguess.I’mapassengermyself,fromArica.Thesillyasswhoownsher,—he’scaptaintoo,namedDavies,—he’slosthiscertificate,orsomething.Youknowthekindofman,—callsthethingthe‘Ipecacuanha,’ofallsilly,infernalnames;thoughwhenthere’smuchofaseawithoutanywind,shecertainlyactsaccording."
(Thenthenoiseoverheadbeganagain,asnarlinggrowlandthevoiceofahumanbeingtogether.Thenanothervoice,tellingsome"Heaven-forsakenidiot"todesist.)
"Youwerenearlydead,"saidmyinterlocutor."Itwasaverynearthing,indeed.ButI’veputsomestuffintoyounow.Noticeyourarm’ssore?Injections.You’vebeeninsensiblefornearlythirtyhours."
Ithoughtslowly.(Iwasdistractednowbytheyelpingofanumberofdogs.)"AmIeligibleforsolidfood?"Iasked.
"Thankstome,"hesaid."Evennowthemuttonisboiling."
"Yes,"Isaidwithassurance;"Icouldeatsomemutton."
"But,"saidhewithamomentaryhesitation,"youknowI’mdyingtohearofhowyoucametobealoneinthatboat.Damnthathowling!"IthoughtIdetectedacertainsuspicioninhiseyes.
Hesuddenlyleftthecabin,andIheardhiminviolentcontroversywithsomeone,whoseemedtometotalkgibberishinresponsetohim.
