“Moreau looked forward to teaching me, to turning me into the perfect Englishwoman. Since I had listened to their conversations, I knew about the island, about the other Beast Men. I knew that he and Montgomery kept a tenuous grip on power by use of the guns, or thunder sticks as the Beast Men called them. At that point, I was no longer caged. Because I was more human than animal, they chained me instead. One afternoon, during the hour when Moreau and Montgomery both slept, I pulled the iron staples out of the walls. And when Moreau came after me, calling to me as though I were a lost cat—‘Here, Catherine, where are you, Catherine’—I strangled him with my chains, which still hung from the manacles on my wrists. Montgomery found me standing over him as he lay on the ground, staring up at the sky with empty eyes. There was blood on my mouth. Perhaps I was still more animal than they had realized.
“I was in pain, not yet entirely healed. Montgomery took me back to the compound. He should have killed me, but he could not bring himself to do it. He had always been sympathetic to the Beast Men. After all, they had been his only company on the island other than Moreau. So instead, he removed the manacles and tended to my wounds. And Prendick—it was he who continued my education. I knew enough English to understand their speech, but he taught me how to sound like an Englishman, how to read and understand what I was reading. There were few books in the enclosure—Darwin was there, and Huxley’s essays. Textbooks on surgical technique that I found tedious. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, some books of poetry—and a book of your cases, Mr. Holmes. So you see, I know who you are, although I am behind in my reading. I thought you had perished at Reichenbach Falls. And he taught me the rudiments of Latin, what he could remember from his own public school education.
“When the Beast Men discovered that Moreau was dead, they were inclined to rebel. They had never been afraid of Montgomery, and had always hated their masters. Prendick tried to convince them that Moreau was still alive, although incorporeal—watching them from the sky. The Pig Men, who had developed a sort of religion, believed him. The others were still wary of the thunder sticks. Montgomery was less cautious. He traded with them for the fruit and vegetables some of them grew on rudimentary farms, even allowed them into the compound for a sort of ‘market day.’ In return, he would give them biscuits and tinned meat.
“He and Prendick talked about getting off the island. Moreau had a boat, docked in a natural harbor near the compound. But it needed a crew, and without Moreau to strike fear into the hearts of the Beast Men, none of them would agree to sail it. They had been made of land animals, and feared the ocean. The only other option was to wait for the arrival of the supply ship, which was supposed to come every six months. But the date came and went. The supply ship did not arrive. I think that was what finally broke Montgomery.
“There we all were, in an uneasy truce, with no hope of leaving the island. One day, that truce was broken. It was one of the market days. Montgomery had been drinking. Prendick and I did not know—we were once again discussing how we could sail the boat with only the three of us, for Prendick intended to take me with him to England. He did not think of me as a Beast Woman any longer, and he said that my killing of Moreau had been justified. He called it self-defense.
“Outside, in the courtyard of the compound, Montgomery began gambling with the Beast Men. They had simple games of chance that involved casting marked bones onto the ground and gambling on the results. Montgomery joined in, lost, and kept losing. He gambled away a barrel of whiskey.
“That night, Prendick and I woke to the sound of gunfire. It was outside the compound, which meant that Montgomery was out there—and in danger. We ran out of the compound, carrying our guns. Down on the beach we saw a fire, with Beast Men dancing around it—Ape Men and Bull Men and Wolf Men, like figures out of a nightmare.
“Montgomery was dancing among them, shooting up into the air, drunk, and as beastly as any of them.
“?‘What are they burning?’ I asked, for there was no vegetation on the beach.
“?‘The boat!’ said Prendick, pointing toward the harbor. What floated there was no longer a boat. It looked more like a skeleton that had been picked clean by birds.
“We rushed down to stop them, but it was too late. Most of the planks were already char and ash.
“Montgomery laughed when he saw us, the laughter of a madman. ‘Now we’ll never get away! We’ll all die together on this godforsaken island!’
“What could we do? We turned to walk back to the compound, only to see that it, too, was in flames. One of the Beast Men had snuck up while we were running toward Montgomery and set fire to the thatched roofs of the buildings. I started to run back, but Prendick stopped me. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The ammunition.’ In a moment, I understood what he meant. We were knocked to the ground by the explosion.
“Morning found us with no home, no supplies, and no means of escape. On the beach were the charred remains of the boat and Montgomery’s body. He had been strangled by one of the Beast Men.
“After that day, we lived like savages. Prendick and I brought whatever we could salvage from the compound into a cave above the beach. Once our bullets ran out, we hunted—I did most of the hunting, since Prendick had no weapon. But I was a weapon. Slowly, the Beast Men killed each other off. Or,” Catherine added calmly, “I killed them. By the end of the year we spent on the island, there were none left. We ate them, of course. What else was there to eat on that island but coconuts and crabs?”
“You—ate them?” said Mary. “How could you . . .” She had been fascinated by the story—as they all had been, judging by their faces in the lamplight. Holmes was leaning forward, his fingers tented in a way she was coming to recognize. It meant he was turning something around and around in his mind, considering every angle. Even Diana had stayed quiet for all this time. But it was a gruesome story as well. Mary did not know whether to feel greater pity for Catherine’s suffering or horror at the cruelty of Moreau. Those Beast Men, doomed to die on their remote island . . .
MARY: Well, to be honest, I was mostly curious about how he had done it. Created you, I mean, as well as the other Beast Men. It was a quite a scientific accomplishment, although of course horrible from an ethical standpoint.
CATHERINE: It would be much easier writing from your perspective if you admitted to feeling normal human emotions!
MARY: I did! I felt horror and pity, really I did. At least, some. But I was curious too. Wouldn’t you be?
DIANA: I didn’t feel horror or pity.
CATHERINE: That doesn’t surprise me in the least.
“Why should I not eat them?” said Catherine. “Because they were men? To me, they were apes and bulls and wolves. If I had still been a puma, they would have been my natural enemies or prey. But Prendick—I think it made him sick, not in the stomach but in the head. One day, he gathered together the remaining planks of the boat and made a sort of raft. On it, using the rags of his shirt as a sail, he set out to sea. I saw him from the hill above our cave, already too far away for me to swim out to him, floating away on the tide. That was the last I saw of him. I believe he perished on the open ocean.”