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The Voice in the Night By William Hope Hodgson
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 forrard 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 *** 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 *** 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 *** 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 *** 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 *** 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 *** 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 *** 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 I do 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 maindeck 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 *** 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 marvellous 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.