seemed, as I fancied then, to be trying to understand me, to remember something of their human past.
I went on shouting, I scarcely remember what. That Moreau and Montgomery could be killed; that they were not to be feared: that was the burthen of what I put into the heads of the Beast People to my own ultimate undoing. I saw the green-eyed man in the dark rags, who had met me on the evening of my arrival, come out from among the trees, and others followed him to hear me better.
At last for want of breath I paused.
"Listen to me for a moment," said the steady voice of Moreau, "and then say what you will."
"Well?" said I.
He coughed, thought, then shouted: "Latin, Prendick! Bad Latin! Schoolboy Latin! But try and understand. Hi non sunt homines, sunt animalia qui nos habemus… vivisected. A humanising process. I will explain. Come ashore."
I laughed. "A pretty story," said I. "They talk, build houses, cook. They were men. It's likely I'll come ashore."
"The water just beyond where you stand is deep… and full of sharks."
"That's my way," said I. "Short and sharp. Presently."
"Wait a minute." He took something out of his pocket that flashed back the sun, and dropped the object at his feet. "That's a loaded revolver," said he. "Montgomery here will do the same. Now we are going up the beach until you are satisfied the distance is safe. Then come and take the revolvers."
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