en-es  The Island of Doctor Moreau. Chapter X
La isla del Doctor Moreau de H.G. Wells

Capítulo X

El grito del hombre


Cuando me acerqué a la casa, vi que la luz brillaba desde la puerta abierta de mi habitación, y luego escuché la voz de Montgomery gritando: "¡Prendick!", que venía de la oscuridad al lado de ese rectángulo naranja de luz. Continué corriendo. En este momento lo escuché de nuevo. Respondí con un débil "¡Hola!" Y en un momento más me le acerqué tambaleándome.

"¿Dónde ha estado?", dijo, sosteniéndome con el brazo extendido, para que la luz de la puerta cayera sobre mi rostro. "Los dos hemos estado tan ocupados que nos olvidamos de usted hasta hace media hora". Me condujo a la habitación y me sentó en la tumbona. Durante un rato me cegó la luz. "No pensamos que comenzaría a explorar esta isla sin avisarnos", dijo; y luego, "Tenía miedo- Pero... qué... ¡Hola!". Las últimas fuerzas me abandonaron y mi cabeza me cayó sobre el pecho. Creo que experimentó cierta satisfacción en darme brandy.

"Por el amor de Dios", dije, "cierre esa puerta". "Se ha encontrado a algunas de nuestras curiosidades, ¿no?", dijo.

Cerró la puerta y se volvió hacia mí otra vez. No me hizo ninguna pregunta, pero me dio más brandy y agua y me presionó para que comiera. Yo estaba en un estado de colapso. Dijo algo vago sobre su olvido de advertirme, y me preguntó brevemente cuándo salí de la casa y qué había visto.

Le contesté también brevemente, en oraciones incompletas. "Dígame lo que significa todo", dije, en un estado que casi rozaba la histeria.

"No es nada tan terrible", dijo él. "Pero creo que ya ha tenido suficiente por un día". De repente, el puma lanzó un agudo aullido de dolor. Ante eso maldijo por lo bajo. "Caramba", dijo él, "si este lugar no es tan malo como Gower Street, con sus gatos". "Montgomery", dije, "¿qué era lo que venía tras de mí? ¿Era una bestia o un hombre?". " Si no duerme esta noche", dijo, "estará fuera de sí mañana". Me puse de pie frente a él. "¿Qué era lo que me perseguía?", le pregunté.

Me miró directamente a los ojos, y torció la boca. Sus ojos, que habían parecido vivaces hace un minuto, perdieron el brillo. "De su historia", dijo, "pienso que era un espantajo". Sentí un impulso de intensa molestia, que pasó tan pronto como llegó. Me tiré otra vez a la tumbona, y apreté las manos sobre la frente. El puma empezó de nuevo.

Mongomery vino detrás de mí y me puso la mano en el hombro. "Mire, Prendick", dijo, "No debía dejarlo deambular por esta loca isla de nosotros. Pero no es tan malo como se siente, hombre. Sus nervios están hechos trizas. Déjeme darle algo que asegurará que duerma Ud. Eso...va a continuar por varias horas más. Es simplemente vital que duerma Ud., o no seré responsable". No contesté. Me incliné hacia adelante, y me cubrí la cara con las manos. Pronto regresó con una pequeña probeta conteniendo un liquido obscuro. Me la dio. Lo tomé sin resistirme, y me ayudó a subir a la hamaca.

Cuando me desperté, era ya pleno día. Por un momento permanecí tendido, mirando el techo sobre mí. Las vigas, observé, estaban hechas de las maderas de un barco. Luego giré la cabeza y vi una comida preparada para mí sobre la mesa Me di cuenta de que estaba hambriento y me preparé para salir de la hamaca, la cual, anticipando muy educadamente mi intención, se dio vuelta y me depositó sobre cuatro patas en el suelo.

Me puse de pie y me senté ante la comida Tenía una sensación pesada en la cabeza, y al principio, solo una memoria vaguísima de las cosas que habian transcurrido durante la noche. La brisa de la mañana soplaba muy agradablemente por la ventana sin vidrio, y eso y la comida contribuyeron al sentido de comodidad animal que experimenté. En ese momento, la puerta que estaba detrás de mí, la puerta interna, hacia el patio del recinto, se abrió. Me volví y vi la cara de Montgomery.

"Está bien", dijo. "Estoy terriblemente ocupado". Y cerró la puerta.

Luego descubrí que olvidó volver a cerrarla con llave. Entonces recordé la expresión de su rostro la noche anterior, y con eso el recuerdo de todo lo que había experimentado se materializó ante mí. Incluso cuando ese miedo me volvió, vino un grito desde adentro; pero esta vez no fue el rugido de un puma. Dejé caer el bocado que me había llevado a los labios y escuché. Silencio, excepto por el susurro de la brisa matinal. Empecé a pensar que me habían engañado los oídos.

Después de una larga pausa, reanudé mi comida, pero con los oídos aún atentos. En ese momento escuché algo más, muy débil y bajo. Me quedé sentado como petrificado. Aunque era débil y bajo, me conmovió más profundamente que todo lo que había oído hasta ahora de las aberraciones detrás del muro. No hubo error esta vez en la calidad de los sonidos débiles y entrecortados; ni duda alguna de su origen. Porque eran gemidos, interrumpidos por sollozos y jadeos de angustia. Esta vez no era un bruto; ¡era un ser humano en tormento!

Al darme cuenta de esto, me levanté y en tres pasos crucé la habitación, agarré la manija de la puerta del patio y la abrí.

"¡Prendick, hombre! ¡Deténgase!", gritó Montgomery, interviniendo.

Un galgo sobresaltado aullaba y gruñía. Había sangre, vi en el fregadero... marrón y algo escarlata... y olí el hedor peculiar del ácido carbólico. Luego, a través de una puerta abierta más allá, a la tenue luz de las sombras, vi algo penosamente atado sobre un armazón, lleno de cicatrices, rojo y vendado; y luego bloqueando esto, apareció el rostro del viejo Moreau, blanco y terrible En un momento me había agarrado por el hombro con una mano que estaba manchada de rojo, me había hecho girar sobre mis pies, y arrojado apresuradamente de regreso a mi propia habitación. Me levantó como si fuera un niñito. Caí cuan largo era sobre el piso y la puerta se cerró de un portazo, bloqueando la vista de su rostro desencajado. Luego oí que la llave giraba en la cerradura y la voz de Montgomery protestando.

"Arruinar el trabajo de una vida", escuché decir a Moreau.

"Él no entiende", dijo Montgomery, y otras cosas que eran inaudibles.

"No puedo perder el tiempo todavía", dijo Moreau.

El resto no lo escuché. Me levanté y permanecí temblando, con la mente hecha un caos de las más horribles dudas. ¿Podría ser posible, pensé, que algo así como la vivisección humana se llevara a cabo aquí? La pregunta se disparó como un rayo en un cielo tempestoso; y de repente el confuso horror de mi mente se condensó en una vívida comprensión del peligro que yo corría.
unit 1
The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells.
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Chapter X.
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THE CRYING OF THE MAN.
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Presently I heard him again.
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I replied by a feeble “Hullo!” and in another moment had staggered up to him.
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For awhile I was blinded by the light.
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I think he found a certain satisfaction in giving me brandy.
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He locked the door and turned to me again.
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He asked me no questions, but gave me some more brandy and water and pressed me to eat.
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I was in a state of collapse.
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I answered him as briefly, in fragmentary sentences.
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“Tell me what it all means,” said I, in a state bordering on hysterics.
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“It’s nothing so very dreadful,” said he.
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At that he swore under his breath.
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“What was that thing that came after me?” I asked.
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He looked me squarely in the eyes, and twisted his mouth askew.
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His eyes, which had seemed animated a minute before, went dull.
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I flung myself into the chair again, and pressed my hands on my forehead.
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The puma began once more.
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Montgomery came round behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.
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But it’s not so bad as you feel, man.
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Your nerves are worked to rags.
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Let me give you something that will make you sleep.
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That—will keep on for hours yet.
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You must simply get to sleep, or I won’t answer for it.” I did not reply.
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I bowed forward, and covered my face with my hands.
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Presently he returned with a small measure containing a dark liquid.
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This he gave me.
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I took it unresistingly, and he helped me into the hammock.
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When I awoke, it was broad day.
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For a little while I lay flat, staring at the roof above me.
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The rafters, I observed, were made out of the timbers of a ship.
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Then I turned my head, and saw a meal prepared for me on the table.
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I got up and sat down before the food.
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Presently the door behind me—the door inward towards the yard of the enclosure—opened.
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I turned and saw Montgomery’s face.
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“All right,” said he.
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“I’m frightfully busy.” And he shut the door.
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Afterwards I discovered that he forgot to re-lock it.
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I put down the mouthful that hesitated upon my lips, and listened.
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Silence, save for the whisper of the morning breeze.
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I began to think my ears had deceived me.
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After a long pause I resumed my meal, but with my ears still vigilant.
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Presently I heard something else, very faint and low.
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I sat as if frozen in my attitude.
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For it was groaning, broken by sobs and gasps of anguish.
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It was no brute this time; it was a human being in torment!
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“Prendick, man!
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Stop!” cried Montgomery, intervening.
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A startled deerhound yelped and snarled.
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He lifted me as though I was a little child.
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Then I heard the key turn in the lock, and Montgomery’s voice in expostulation.
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“Ruin the work of a lifetime,” I heard Moreau say.
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“He does not understand,” said Montgomery, and other things that were inaudible.
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“I can’t spare the time yet,” said Moreau.
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The rest I did not hear.
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The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells.

Chapter X.

THE CRYING OF THE MAN.

AS I drew near the house I saw that the light shone from the open door of my room; and then I heard coming from out of the darkness at the side of that orange oblong of light, the voice of Montgomery shouting, “Prendick!” I continued running. Presently I heard him again. I replied by a feeble “Hullo!” and in another moment had staggered up to him.

“Where have you been?” said he, holding me at arm’s length, so that the light from the door fell on my face. “We have both been so busy that we forgot you until about half an hour ago.” He led me into the room and set me down in the deck chair. For awhile I was blinded by the light. “We did not think you would start to explore this island of ours without telling us,” he said; and then, “I was afraid— But—what— Hullo!”

My last remaining strength slipped from me, and my head fell forward on my chest. I think he found a certain satisfaction in giving me brandy.

“For God’s sake,” said I, “fasten that door.”

“You’ve been meeting some of our curiosities, eh?” said he.

He locked the door and turned to me again. He asked me no questions, but gave me some more brandy and water and pressed me to eat. I was in a state of collapse. He said something vague about his forgetting to warn me, and asked me briefly when I left the house and what I had seen.

I answered him as briefly, in fragmentary sentences. “Tell me what it all means,” said I, in a state bordering on hysterics.

“It’s nothing so very dreadful,” said he. “But I think you have had about enough for one day.” The puma suddenly gave a sharp yell of pain. At that he swore under his breath. “I’m damned,” said he, “if this place is not as bad as Gower Street, with its cats.”

“Montgomery,” said I, “what was that thing that came after me? Was it a beast or was it a man?”

“If you don’t sleep to-night,” he said, “you’ll be off your head to-morrow.”

I stood up in front of him. “What was that thing that came after me?” I asked.

He looked me squarely in the eyes, and twisted his mouth askew. His eyes, which had seemed animated a minute before, went dull. “From your account,” said he, “I’m thinking it was a bogle.”

I felt a gust of intense irritation, which passed as quickly as it came. I flung myself into the chair again, and pressed my hands on my forehead. The puma began once more.

Montgomery came round behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Look here, Prendick,” he said, “I had no business to let you drift out into this silly island of ours. But it’s not so bad as you feel, man. Your nerves are worked to rags. Let me give you something that will make you sleep. That—will keep on for hours yet. You must simply get to sleep, or I won’t answer for it.”

I did not reply. I bowed forward, and covered my face with my hands. Presently he returned with a small measure containing a dark liquid. This he gave me. I took it unresistingly, and he helped me into the hammock.

When I awoke, it was broad day. For a little while I lay flat, staring at the roof above me. The rafters, I observed, were made out of the timbers of a ship. Then I turned my head, and saw a meal prepared for me on the table. I perceived that I was hungry, and prepared to clamber out of the hammock, which, very politely anticipating my intention, twisted round and deposited me upon all-fours on the floor.

I got up and sat down before the food. I had a heavy feeling in my head, and only the vaguest memory at first of the things that had happened over night. The morning breeze blew very pleasantly through the unglazed window, and that and the food contributed to the sense of animal comfort which I experienced. Presently the door behind me—the door inward towards the yard of the enclosure—opened. I turned and saw Montgomery’s face.

“All right,” said he. “I’m frightfully busy.” And he shut the door.

Afterwards I discovered that he forgot to re-lock it. Then I recalled the expression of his face the previous night, and with that the memory of all I had experienced reconstructed itself before me. Even as that fear came back to me came a cry from within; but this time it was not the cry of a puma. I put down the mouthful that hesitated upon my lips, and listened. Silence, save for the whisper of the morning breeze. I began to think my ears had deceived me.

After a long pause I resumed my meal, but with my ears still vigilant. Presently I heard something else, very faint and low. I sat as if frozen in my attitude. Though it was faint and low, it moved me more profoundly than all that I had hitherto heard of the abominations behind the wall. There was no mistake this time in the quality of the dim, broken sounds; no doubt at all of their source. For it was groaning, broken by sobs and gasps of anguish. It was no brute this time; it was a human being in torment!

As I realised this I rose, and in three steps had crossed the room, seized the handle of the door into the yard, and flung it open before me.

“Prendick, man! Stop!” cried Montgomery, intervening.

A startled deerhound yelped and snarled. There was blood, I saw, in the sink,—brown, and some scarlet,—and I smelt the peculiar smell of carbolic acid. Then through an open doorway beyond, in the dim light of the shadow, I saw something bound painfully upon a framework, scarred, red, and bandaged; and then blotting this out appeared the face of old Moreau, white and terrible. In a moment he had gripped me by the shoulder with a hand that was smeared red, had twisted me off my feet, and flung me headlong back into my own room. He lifted me as though I was a little child. I fell at full length upon the floor, and the door slammed and shut out the passionate intensity of his face. Then I heard the key turn in the lock, and Montgomery’s voice in expostulation.

“Ruin the work of a lifetime,” I heard Moreau say.

“He does not understand,” said Montgomery, and other things that were inaudible.

“I can’t spare the time yet,” said Moreau.

The rest I did not hear. I picked myself up and stood trembling, my mind a chaos of the most horrible misgivings. Could it be possible, I thought, that such a thing as the vivisection of men was carried on here? The question shot like lightning across a tumultuous sky; and suddenly the clouded horror of my mind condensed into a vivid realisation of my own danger.