One point to consider: how is this story about sacrifice, but not "human" sacrifice as we've discussed it? Also, are there any significant things that come to mind in these ideas: (1) the ship that sank was named "Albatross." For a distinct reason, why is this a giveaway? Hint: NO ship would EVER be named that. Why? Go research it and see the irony in this. (2) The man in the rowboat describes himself as "an old man." Why does this make sense (somewhat--but in what way?) when you consider that he referred to "his fiance" and himself in such a manner: that would be used in that era of society for a YOUNG man and woman. Does this make sense now considering what has happened (the effect of being shipwrecked and the conditions that befell them) in telling his story? (3) The strange "tree that moved" on the far side of the island--what do YOU think it was--or really is?
THE VOICE IN THE NIGHT
by William Hope Hodgson
from The Blue Magazine (Nov. 1907)
by William Hope Hodgson
from The Blue Magazine (Nov. 1907)
IT
WAS a dark, starless night. We were becalmed in the Northern
Pacific.
Our
exact position I do not know; for the sun had been hidden during the
course of a weary, breathless week, by a thin haze which had seemed to float
above us, about the height of our mastheads, at whiles descending and
shrouding the surrounding sea.
With there being no wind, we had steadied the tiller, and I was the only man
on deck. The crew, consisting of two men and a boy, were sleeping
forward in their den; while Will — my friend, and the master of our
little craft — was aft in his bunk on the port side of the little cabin.
Suddenly, from out of the surrounding darkness, there came a hail:
"Schooner, ahoy!" The cry was so unexpected that I gave
no immediate answer, because of my surprise.
It came again — a voice curiously throaty and inhuman, calling from somewhere
upon the dark sea away on our port broadside: "Schooner, ahoy!"
"Hullo!" I sung out, having gathered my wits somewhat. What are
you? What do you want?"
"You need not be afraid," answered the queer voice, having probably
noticed some trace of confusion in my tone. "I am only an old
man."
The pause sounded oddly; but it was only afterwards that it came back
to me with any significance.
"Why don't you come alongside, then?" I queried somewhat
snappishly; for I liked not his hinting at my having been a trifle
shaken.
"I — I — can't. It wouldn't be safe. I ——" The voice
broke off, and there was silence.
"What do you mean?" I asked, growing more and more
astonished. "Why not safe? Where are you?"
I listened for a moment; but there came no answer. And then, a sudden
indefinite suspicion, of I knew not what, coming to me, I stepped swiftly to
the binnacle, and took out the lighted lamp. At the same time, I
knocked on the deck with my heel to waken Will.
Then
I was back at the side, throwing the yellow funnel of light out into the
silent immensity beyond our rail. As I did so, I heard a slight,
muffled cry, and then the sound of a splash as though someone had dipped oars
abruptly. Yet I cannot say that I saw anything with certainty; save, it
seemed to me, that with the first flash of the light, there had been
something upon the waters, where now there was nothing.
"Hullo, there!" I called. "What foolery is this!" But there came only the indistinct sounds of a boat being pulled away into
the night.
Then I heard Will's voice, from the direction of the after scuttle:
"What's up, George?"
"Come here, Will!" I said.
"What is it?" he asked, coming across the deck.
I told him the queer thing which had happened. He put several
questions; then, after a moment's silence, he raised his hands to his
lips, and hailed: "Boat, ahoy!"
From a long distance away there came back to us a faint reply, and my
companion repeated his call. Presently, after a short period of
silence, there grew on our hearing the muffled sound of oars; at which Will
hailed again.
This time there was a reply: “Put away the light."
"I'm damned if I will," I muttered; but Will told me to do as the
voice bade, and I shoved it down under the bulwarks.
"Come nearer," he said, and the oar-strokes continued. Then, when
apparently some half-dozen fathoms distant, they again ceased.
"Come alongside," exclaimed Will. "There's nothing to be
frightened of aboard here!"
"Promise that you will not show the light?"
"What's to do with you," I burst out, "that you're so
infernally afraid of the light?"
"Because ——" began the voice, and stopped short.
"Because what?" I asked quickly. Will put his hand on
my shoulder.
"Shut up a minute, old man," he said, in a low voice.
"Let me tackle him."
He leant more over the rail.
"See here, Mister," he said, "this is a pretty queer business,
you coming upon us like this, right out in the middle of the blessed
Pacific. How are we to know what sort of a hanky-panky trick you're up
to? You say there's only one of you. How are we to know, unless we get
a squint at you — eh? What's your objection to the light, anyway?"
As he finished, I heard the noise of the oars again, and then the voice
came; but now from a greater distance, and sounding extremely hopeless
and pathetic.
"I am sorry — sorry! I would not have troubled you, only I am
hungry, and — so is she."
The voice died away, and the sound of the oars, dipping irregularly, was
borne to us.
"Stop!" sung out Will. "I don't want to drive you away.
Come back! We'll keep the light hidden, if you don't like it."
He turned to me: "It's a damned queer rig, this; but I think there's
nothing to be afraid of?" There was a question in his tone,
and I replied.
"No, I think the poor devil's been wrecked around here, and gone
crazy."
The sound of the oars drew nearer.
"Shove that lamp back in the binnacle," said Will; then he leaned
over the rail and listened. I replaced the lamp, and came back to his
side. The dipping of the oars ceased some dozen yards distant.
"Won't you come alongside now?" asked Will in an even voice. "I
have had the lamp put back in the binnacle."
"I — I cannot," replied the voice. "I dare not come
nearer. I dare not even pay you for the — the provisions."
"That's all right," said Will, and hesitated. "You're welcome
to as much grub as you can take ——" Again he hesitated.
"You are very good," exclaimed the voice. "May God, Who understands
everything, reward you ——" It broke off huskily.
"The — the lady?" said Will abruptly. "Is she ——"
"I have left her behind upon the island," came the voice.
"What island?" I cut in.
"I know not its name," returned the voice. "I would to God
——!" it began, and checked itself as suddenly.
"Could we not send a boat for her?" asked Will at this point.
"No!" said the voice, with extraordinary emphasis. "My
God! No!" There was a moment's pause; then it added, in a
tone which seemed a merited reproach: "It was because of our want
I ventured — because her agony tortured me."
"I am a forgetful brute," exclaimed Will. "Just wait a
minute, whoever you are, and I will bring you up something at once."
In a couple of minutes he was back again, and his arms were full of various
edibles. He paused at the rail.
"Can't you come alongside for them?" he asked.
"No — I DARE NOT," replied the voice, and it seemed to me that in
its tones I detected a note of stifled craving — as though the owner hushed a
mortal desire. It came to me then in a flash, that the poor old
creature out there in the darkness, was suffering for actual need of
that which Will held in his arms; and yet, because of some unintelligible
dread, refraining from dashing to the side of our little schooner, and
receiving it. And with the lightning-like conviction, there came the
knowledge that the Invisible was not mad; but sanely facing some intolerable
horror.
"Damn it, Will!" I said, full of many feelings, over which
predominated a vast sympathy. "Get a box. We must float off
the stuff to him in it."
This we did — propelling it away from the vessel, out into the darkness, by
means of a boathook. In a minute, a slight cry from the Invisible came
to us, and we knew that he had secured the box.
A little later, he called out a farewell to us, and so heartful a blessing,
that I am sure we were the better for it. Then, without more ado, we heard
the ply of oars across the darkness.
"Pretty soon off," remarked Will, with perhaps just a little sense
of injury.
"Wait," I replied. "I think somehow he'll come
back. He must have been badly needing that food."
"And the lady," said Will. For a moment he was silent; then
he continued: "It's the queerest thing ever I've tumbled across, since
I've been fishing."
"Yes," I said, and fell to pondering. And so the time
slipped away — an hour, another, and still Will stayed with me; for the
queer adventure had knocked all desire for sleep out of him.
The third hour was three parts through, when we heard again the sound of oars
across the silent ocean.
"Listen!" said Will, a low note of excitement in his voice.
"He's coming, just as I thought," I muttered.
The dipping of the oars grew nearer, and I noted that the strokes were firmer
and longer. The food had been needed.
They came to a stop a little distance off the broadside, and the queer voice
came again to us through the darkness: "Schooner, ahoy!"
"That you?" asked Will.
"Yes," replied the voice. "I left you suddenly; but —
but there was great need."
"The lady?" questioned Will.
"The — lady is grateful now on Earth. She will be more grateful
soon in — in heaven."
Will began to make some reply, in a puzzled voice; but became confused, and
broke off short. I said nothing. I was wondering at the curious
pauses, and, apart from my wonder, I was full of a great sympathy.
The voice continued: "We — she and I, have talked, as we shared
the result of God's tenderness and yours ——"
Will interposed; but without coherence.
"I beg of you not to — to belittle your deed of Christian charity this
night," said the voice. "Be sure that it has not escaped His
notice."
It stopped, and there was a full minute's silence. Then it came
again: "We have spoken together upon that which — which has
befallen us. We had thought to go out, without telling any, of the
terror which has come into our--lives. She is with me in believing that
to-night's happenings are under a special ruling, and that it is God's wish
that we should tell to you all that we have suffered since — since ——"
"Yes?" said Will softly.
"Since the sinking of the Albatross."
Ah!"
I exclaimed involuntarily. "She left Newcastle for 'Frisco some
six months ago, and hasn't been heard of since."
"Yes," answered the voice. "But some few degrees to the
North of the line she was caught in a terrible storm, and dismasted.
When the day came, it was found that she was leaking badly, and, presently,
it falling to a calm, the sailors took to the boats, leaving — leaving a
young lady — my fiancée — and myself upon the wreck.
"We were below, gathering together a few of our belongings, when they
left. They were entirely callous, through fear, and when we came up
upon the deck, we saw them only as small shapes afar off upon the
horizon. Yet we did not despair, but set to work and constructed a
small raft. Upon this we put such few matters as it would hold
including a quantity of water and some ship's biscuit. Then, the vessel
being very deep in the water, we got ourselves on to the raft, and pushed
off.
"It was later, when I observed that we seemed to be in the way of some
tide or current, which bore us from the ship at an angle; so that in the
course of three hours, by my watch, her hull became invisible to our sight,
her broken masts remaining in view for a somewhat longer period. Then,
towards evening, it grew misty, and so through the night. The next day
we were still encompassed by the mist, the weather remaining quiet.
"For four days we drifted through this strange haze, until, on the
evening of the fourth day, there grew upon our ears the murmur of breakers at
a distance. Gradually it became plainer, and, somewhat after midnight,
it appeared to sound upon either hand at no very great space. The raft
was raised upon a swell several times, and then we were in smooth water, and
the noise of the breakers was behind.
"When the morning came, we found that we were in a sort of great lagoon;
but of this we noticed little at the time; for close before us, through the
enshrouding mist, loomed the hull of a large sailing-vessel. With one
accord, we fell upon our knees and thanked God; for we thought that here was
an end to our perils. We had much to learn.
"The raft drew near to the ship, and we shouted on them to take us
aboard; but none answered. Presently the raft touched against the
side of the vessel, and, seeing a rope hanging downwards, I seized it and
began to climb. Yet I had much ado to make my way up, because of a kind
of grey, lichenous fungus which had seized upon the rope, and which blotched
the side of the ship lividly.
"I reached the rail and clambered over it, on to the deck. Here I saw
that the decks were covered, in great patches, with grey masses, some of them
rising into nodules several feet in height; but at the time I thought less of
this matter than of the possibility of there being people aboard the
ship. I shouted; but none answered. Then I went to the door below
the poop deck. I opened it, and peered in. There was a great
smell of staleness, so that I knew in a moment that nothing living was within,
and with the knowledge, I shut the door quickly; for I felt suddenly lonely.
"I went back to the side where I had scrambled up. My — my
sweetheart was still sitting quietly upon the raft. Seeing me look down
she called up to know whether there were any aboard of the ship. I
replied that the vessel had the appearance of having been long
deserted; but that if she would wait a little I would see whether there
was anything in the shape of a ladder by which she could ascend to the
deck. Then we would make a search through the vessel together. A
little later, on the opposite side of the decks, I found a rope
side-ladder. This I carried across, and a minute afterwards she was
beside me.
"Together we explored the cabins and apartments in the after part of the
ship; but nowhere was there any sign of life. Here and there within the
cabins themselves, we came across odd patches of that queer fungus; but this,
as my sweetheart said, could be cleansed away.
"In the end, having assured ourselves that the after portion of the
vessel was empty, we picked our ways to the bows, between the ugly grey
nodules of that strange growth; and here we made a further search which
told us that there was indeed none aboard but ourselves.
"This being now beyond any doubt, we returned to the stern of the ship
and proceeded to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. Together we
cleared out and cleaned two of the cabins: and after that I made examination
whether there was anything eatable in the ship. This I soon found was
so, and thanked God in my heart for His goodness. In addition to this I
discovered the whereabouts of the fresh-water pump, and having fixed it I
found the water drinkable, though somewhat unpleasant to the taste.
"For several days we stayed aboard the ship, without attempting to get
to the shore. We were busily engaged in making the place
habitable. Yet even thus early we became aware that our lot was even
less to be desired than might have been imagined; for though, as a first
step, we scraped away the odd patches of growth that studded the floors and
walls of the cabins and saloon, yet they returned almost to their original
size within the space of twenty-four hours, which not only discouraged us,
but gave us a feeling of vague unease.
"Still we would not admit ourselves beaten, so set to work afresh, and
not only scraped away the fungus, but soaked the places where it had been,
with carbolic, a can-full of which I had found in the pantry. Yet, by
the end of the week the growth had returned in full strength, and, in
addition, it had spread to other places, as though our touching it had
allowed germs from it to travel elsewhere.
"On the seventh morning, my sweetheart woke to find a small patch of it
growing on her pillow, close to her face. At that, she came to me, so soon as
she could get her garments upon her. I was in the galley at the time lighting
the fire for breakfast.
"Come here, John," she said, and led me aft. When I saw the
thing upon her pillow I shuddered, and then and there we agreed to go right
out of the ship and see whether we could not fare to make ourselves more
comfortable ashore.
"Hurriedly we gathered together our few belongings, and even among these
I found that the fungus had been at work; for one of her shawls had a little
lump of it growing near one edge. I threw the whole thing over the
side, without saying anything to her.
"The raft was still alongside, but it was too clumsy to guide, and I
lowered down a small boat that hung across the stern, and in this we made our
way to the shore. Yet, as we drew near to it, I became gradually aware
that here the vile fungus, which had driven us from the ship, was growing
riot. In places it rose into horrible, fantastic mounds, which seemed almost
to quiver, as with a quiet life, when the wind blew across them. Here
and there it took on the forms of vast fingers, and in others it just spread
out flat and smooth and treacherous. Odd places, it appeared as
grotesque stunted trees, seeming extraordinarily kinked and gnarled — the
whole quaking vilely at times.
"At first, it seemed to us that there was no single portion of the
surrounding shore which was not hidden beneath the masses of the hideous
lichen; yet, in this, I found we were mistaken; for somewhat later, coasting
along the shore at a little distance, we descried a smooth white patch of
what appeared to be fine sand, and there we landed. It was not
sand. What it was Ido not know. All that I have observed is that upon
it the fungus will not grow; while everywhere else, save where the sand-like
earth wanders oddly, path-wise, amid the grey desolation of the lichen, there
is nothing but that loathsome greyness.
"It is difficult to make you understand how cheered we were to find one
place that was absolutely free from the growth, and here we deposited our
belongings. Then we went back to the ship for such things as it seemed
to us we should need. Among other matters, I managed to bring ashore
with me one of the ship's sails, with which I constructed two small tents,
which, though exceedingly rough-shaped, served the purpose for which they
were intended. In these we lived and stored our various necessities,
and thus for a matter of some four weeks all went smoothly and without
particular unhappiness. Indeed, I may say with much of happiness — for
— for we were together.
"It was on the thumb of her right hand that the growth first
showed. It was only a small circular spot, much like a little grey
mole. My God! how the fear leapt to my heart when she showed me the
place. We cleansed it, between us, washing it with carbolic and
water. In the morning of the following day she showed her hand to me
again. The grey warty thing had returned. For a little while, we looked
at one another in silence. Then, still wordless, we started again to
remove it. In the midst of the operation she spoke suddenly.
"'What's that on the side of your face, dear?' Her voice was sharp
with anxiety. I put my hand up to feel.
"'There! Under the hair by your ear. A little to the front a
bit.' My finger rested upon the place, and then I knew.
"'Let us get your thumb done first,' I said. And she submitted, only
because she was afraid to touch me until it was cleansed. I finished
washing and disinfecting her thumb, and then she turned to my face.
After it was finished we sat together and talked awhile of many things for
there had come into our lives sudden, very terrible thoughts. We were,
all at once, afraid of something worse than death. We spoke of loading
the boat with provisions and water and making our way out on to the sea; yet
we were helpless, for many causes, and — and the growth had attacked us
already. We decided to stay. God would do with us what was His
will. We would wait.
"A month, two months, three months passed and the places grew somewhat,
and there had come others. Yet we fought so strenuously with the fear
that its headway was but slow, comparatively speaking.
"Occasionally we ventured off to the ship for such stores as we
needed. There we found that the fungus grew persistently. One of the
nodules on the main deck became soon as high as my head.
"We had now given up all thought or hope of leaving the island. We
had realized that it would be unallowable to go among healthy humans, with
the things from which we were suffering.
"With this determination and knowledge in our minds we knew that we
should have to husband our food and water; for we did not know, at that time,
but that we should possibly live for many years.
"This reminds me that I have told you that I am an old man. Judged by
the years this is not so. But — but ——"
He broke off; then continued somewhat abruptly: "As I was saying,
we knew that we should have to use care in the matter of food. But we
had no idea then how little food there was left of which to take care.
It was a week later that I made the discovery that all the other bread tanks
— which I had supposed full — were empty, and that (beyond odd tins of
vegetables and meat, and some other matters) we had nothing on which to
depend, but the bread in the tank which I had already opened.
"After learning this I bestirred myself to do what I could, and set to
work at fishing in the lagoon; but with no success. At this I was somewhat
inclined to feel desperate until the thought came to me to try outside the
lagoon, in the open sea.
"Here, at times, I caught odd fish; but so infrequently that they proved
of but little help in keeping us from the hunger which threatened.
It seemed to me that our deaths were likely to come by hunger, and not by the
growth of the thing which had seized upon our bodies.
"We were in this state of mind when the fourth month wore out.
When I made a very horrible discovery. One morning, a little before
midday. I came off from the ship with a portion of the biscuits which
were left. In the mouth of her tent I saw my sweetheart sitting, eating
something.
"'What is it, my dear?' I called out as I leapt ashore. Yet, on hearing
my voice, she seemed confused, and, turning, slyly threw something towards
the edge of the little clearing. It fell short, and a vague suspicion having
arisen within me, I walked across and picked it up. It was a piece of
the grey fungus.
"As I went to her with it in my hand, she turned deadly pale; then rose
red.
"I felt strangely dazed and frightened.
"'My dear! My dear!' I said, and could say no more. Yet at words
she broke down and cried bitterly. Gradually, as she calmed, I got from
her the news that she had tried it the preceding day, and — and liked
it. I got her to promise on her knees not to touch it again, however
great our hunger. After she had promised she told me that the desire
for it had come suddenly, and that, until the moment of desire, she had
experienced nothing towards it but the most extreme repulsion.
"Later in the day, feeling strangely restless, and much shaken with the
thing which I had discovered, I made my way along one of the twisted paths —
formed by the white, sand-like substance — which led among the fungoid
growth. I had, once before, ventured along there; but not to any great
distance. This time, being involved in perplexing thought, I went much
further than hitherto.
"Suddenly I was called to myself by a queer hoarse sound on my
left. Turning quickly I saw that there was movement among an
extraordinarily shaped mass of fungus, close to my elbow. It was
swaying uneasily, as though it possessed life of its own. Abruptly, as I
stared, the thought came to me that the thing had a grotesque resemblance to
the figure of a distorted human creature. Even as the fancy flashed into my
brain, there was a slight, sickening noise of tearing, and I saw that one of
the branch-like arms was detaching itself from the surrounding grey masses,
and coming towards me. The head of the thing — a shapeless grey ball,
inclined in my direction. I stood stupidly, and the vile arm brushed
across my face. I gave out a frightened cry, and ran back a few
paces. There was a sweetish taste upon my lips where the thing had
touched me. I licked them, and was immediately filled with an inhuman
desire. I turned and seized a mass of the fungus. Then more and — more.
I was insatiable. In the midst of devouring, the remembrance of the
morning's discovery swept into my mazed brain. It was sent by
God. I dashed the fragment I held to the ground. Then, utterly
wretched and feeling a dreadful guiltiness, I made my way back to the little
encampment.
"I think she knew, by some marvelous intuition which love must have
given, so soon as she set eyes on me. Her quiet sympathy made it easier
for me, and I told her of my sudden weakness; yet omitted to mention the
extraordinary thing which had gone before. I desired to spare her all
unnecessary terror.
"But, for myself, I had added an intolerable knowledge, to breed an
incessant terror in my brain; for I doubted not but that I had seen the
end of one of those men who had come to the island in the ship in the lagoon;
and in that monstrous ending I had seen our own.
"Thereafter we kept from the abominable food, though the desire for it
had entered into our blood. Yet our drear punishment was upon us; for,
day by day, with monstrous rapidity, the fungoid growth took hold of our poor
bodies. Nothing we could do would check it materially, and so — and so
— we who had been human, became —— Well, it matters less each day. Only
— only we had been man and maid!
"And day by day the fight is more dreadful, to withstand the hungerlust
for the terrible lichen.
"A week ago we ate the last of the biscuit, and since that time I have
caught three fish. I was out here fishing tonight when your schooner
drifted upon me out of the mist. I hailed you. You know the rest,
and may God, out of His great heart, bless you for your goodness to a — a
couple of poor outcast souls."
There was the dip of an oar — another. Then the voice came again, and
for the last time, sounding through the slight surrounding mist, ghostly and
mournful.
"God bless you! Good-bye!"
"Good-bye," we shouted together, hoarsely, our hearts full of many
emotions.
I glanced about me. I became aware that the dawn was upon us.
The sun flung a stray beam across the hidden sea; pierced the mist dully, and
lit up the receding boat with a gloomy fire. Indistinctly I saw
something nodding between the oars. I thought of a sponge — a great,
grey nodding sponge — The oars continued to ply. They were
grey — as was the boat — and my eyes searched a moment vainly for the
conjunction of hand and oar. My gaze flashed back to the — head.
It nodded forward as the oars went backward for the stroke. Then the
oars were dipped, the boat shot out of the patch of light, and the — the thing
went nodding into the mist.
The End
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