Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.1-12
pale. It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept behind `
` It, and gave it my knife, but the knife went through It, `
` empty as the air." And as he spoke he took the knife and `
` drove it savagely into space. Then he went on, "But It is `
` here, and I'll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps in one `
` of those boxes. I'll unscrew them one by one and see. You `
` work the helm." And with a warning look and his finger on `
` his lip, he went below. There was springing up a choppy `
` wind, and I could not leave the helm. I saw him come out `
` on deck again with a tool chest and lantern, and go down `
` the forward hatchway. He is mad, stark, raving mad, and `
` it's no use my trying to stop him. He can't hurt those big `
` boxes, they are invoiced as clay, and to pull them about is `
` as harmless a thing as he can do. So here I stay and mind `
` the helm, and write these notes. I can only trust in God `
` and wait till the fog clears. Then, if I can't steer to `
` any harbour with the wind that is, I shall cut down sails, `
` and lie by, and signal for help . . . `
` `
` It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope `
` that the mate would come out calmer, for I heard him `
` knocking away at something in the hold, and work is good `
` for him, there came up the hatchway a sudden, startled `
` scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he `
` came as if shot from a gun, a raging madman, with his eyes `
` rolling and his face convulsed with fear. "Save me! Save `
` me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. `
` His horror turned to despair, and in a steady voice he `
` said, "You had better come too, captain, before it is too `
` late. He is there! I know the secret now. The sea will `
` save me from Him, and it is all that is left!" Before I `
` could say a word, or move forward to seize him, he sprang `
` on the bulwark and deliberately threw himself into the sea. `
` I suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman `
` who had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has `
` followed them himself. God help me! How am I to account `
` for all these horrors when I get to port? When I get to `
` port! Will that ever be? `
` `
` `
` 4 August.--Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce, I `
` know there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I `
` know not. I dared not go below, I dared not leave the `
` helm, so here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the `
` night I saw it, Him! God, forgive me, but the mate was `
` right to jump overboard. It was better to die like a man. `
` To die like a sailor in blue water, no man can object. But `
` I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But I shall `
` baffle this fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to `
` the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with `
` them I shall tie that which He, It, dare not touch. And `
` then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my `
` honour as a captain. I am growing weaker, and the night is `
` coming on. If He can look me in the face again, I may not `
` have time to act. . . If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle `
` may be found, and those who find it may understand. If `
` not . . . well, then all men shall know that I have been `
` true to my trust. God and the Blessed Virgin and the `
` Saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty . . . `
` `
` `
` Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence `
` to adduce, and whether or not the man himself committed the `
` murders there is now none to say. The folk here hold almost `
` universally that the captain is simply a hero, and he is to be `
` given a public funeral. Already it is arranged that his body `
` is to be taken with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece `
` and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps, `
` for he is to be buried in the churchyard on the cliff. The `
` owners of more than a hundred boats have already given in their `
` names as wishing to follow him to the grave. `
` `
` No trace has ever been found of the great dog, at which there is `
` much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he `
` would, I believe, be adopted by the town. Tomorrow will see the `
` funeral, and so will end this one more 'mystery of the sea'. `
` `
` `
` `
` MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL `
` `
` 8 August.--Lucy was very restless all night, and I too, could not `
` sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the `
` chimney pots, it made me shudder. When a sharp puff came it seemed to `
` be like a distant gun. Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake, but she `
` got up twice and dressed herself. Fortunately, each time I awoke in `
` time and managed to undress her without waking her, and got her back to `
` bed. It is a very strange thing, this sleep-walking, for as soon as `
` her will is thwarted in any physical way, her intention, if there be `
` any, disappears, and she yields herself almost exactly to the routine `
` of her life. `
` `
` Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour to see `
` if anything had happened in the night. There were very few people `
` about, and though the sun was bright, and the air clear and fresh, the `
` big, grim-looking waves, that seemed dark themselves because the foam `
` that topped them was like snow, forced themselves in through the mouth `
` of the harbour, like a bullying man going through a crowd. Somehow I `
` felt glad that Jonathan was not on the sea last night, but on land. `
` But, oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, and how? I am getting `
` fearfully anxious about him. If I only knew what to do, and could do `
` anything! `
` `
` `
` 10 August.--The funeral of the poor sea captain today was most `
` touching. Every boat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin `
` was carried by captains all the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the `
` churchyard. Lucy came with me, and we went early to our old seat, `
` whilst the cortege of boats went up the river to the Viaduct and came `
` down again. We had a lovely view, and saw the procession nearly all `
` the way. The poor fellow was laid to rest near our seat so that we `
` stood on it, when the time came and saw everything. `
` `
` Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, `
` and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. `
` She is quite odd in one thing. She will not admit to me that there is `
` any cause for restlessness, or if there be, she does not understand it `
` herself. `
` `
` There is an additional cause in that poor Mr. Swales was found dead `
` this morning on our seat, his neck being broken. He had evidently, as `
` the doctor said, fallen back in the seat in some sort of fright, for `
` there was a look of fear and horror on his face that the men said made `
` them shudder. Poor dear old man! `
` `
` Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely `
` than other people do. Just now she was quite upset by a little thing `
` which I did not much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals. `
` `
` One of the men who came up here often to look for the boats was `
` followed by his dog. The dog is always with him. They are both quiet `
` persons, and I never saw the man angry, nor heard the dog bark. During `
` the service the dog would not come to its master, who was on the seat `
` with us, but kept a few yards off, barking and howling. Its master `
` spoke to it gently, and then harshly, and then angrily. But it would `
` neither come nor cease to make a noise. It was in a fury, with its `
` eyes savage, and all its hair bristling out like a cat's tail when puss `
` is on the war path. `
` `
` Finally the man too got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and `
` then took it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and half threw `
` it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched `
` the stone the poor thing began to tremble. It did not try to get away, `
` but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable `
` state of terror that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it. `
` `
` Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, `
` but looked at it in an agonised sort of way. I greatly fear that she `
` is of too super sensitive a nature to go through the world without `
` trouble. She will be dreaming of this tonight, I am sure. The whole `
` agglomeration of things, the ship steered into port by a dead man, his `
` attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and beads, the touching `
` funeral, the dog, now furious and now in terror, will all afford `
` material for her dreams. `
` `
` I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically, so I `
` shall take her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin Hood's Bay and `
` back. She ought not to have much inclination for sleep-walking then. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER 8 `
` `
` `
` MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL `
` `
` Same day, 11 o'clock P.M.--Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I `
` had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely `
` walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some `
` dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the `
` lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot `
` everything, except of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the `
` slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had a capital 'severe tea' `
` at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet little old-fashioned inn, with a bow `
` window right over the seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. I believe `
` we should have shocked the 'New Woman' with our appetites. Men are `
` more tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather `
` many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a constant dread `
` of wild bulls. `
` `
` Lucy was really tired, and we intended to creep off to bed as soon as `
` we could. The young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked `
` him to stay for supper. Lucy and I had both a fight for it with the `
` dusty miller. I know it was a hard fight on my part, and I am quite `
` heroic. I think that some day the bishops must get together and see `
` about breeding up a new class of curates, who don't take supper, no `
` matter how hard they may be pressed to, and who will know when girls `
` are tired. `
` `
` Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks `
` than usual, and looks, oh so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with `
` her seeing her only in the drawing room, I wonder what he would say if `
` he saw her now. Some of the 'New Women' writers will some day start an `
` idea that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep `
` before proposing or accepting. But I suppose the 'New Woman' won't `
` condescend in future to accept. She will do the proposing herself. And `
` a nice job she will make of it too! There's some consolation in that. `
` I am so happy tonight, because dear Lucy seems better. I really `
` believe she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles `
` with dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan . . . `
`
` It, and gave it my knife, but the knife went through It, `
` empty as the air." And as he spoke he took the knife and `
` drove it savagely into space. Then he went on, "But It is `
` here, and I'll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps in one `
` of those boxes. I'll unscrew them one by one and see. You `
` work the helm." And with a warning look and his finger on `
` his lip, he went below. There was springing up a choppy `
` wind, and I could not leave the helm. I saw him come out `
` on deck again with a tool chest and lantern, and go down `
` the forward hatchway. He is mad, stark, raving mad, and `
` it's no use my trying to stop him. He can't hurt those big `
` boxes, they are invoiced as clay, and to pull them about is `
` as harmless a thing as he can do. So here I stay and mind `
` the helm, and write these notes. I can only trust in God `
` and wait till the fog clears. Then, if I can't steer to `
` any harbour with the wind that is, I shall cut down sails, `
` and lie by, and signal for help . . . `
` `
` It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope `
` that the mate would come out calmer, for I heard him `
` knocking away at something in the hold, and work is good `
` for him, there came up the hatchway a sudden, startled `
` scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he `
` came as if shot from a gun, a raging madman, with his eyes `
` rolling and his face convulsed with fear. "Save me! Save `
` me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. `
` His horror turned to despair, and in a steady voice he `
` said, "You had better come too, captain, before it is too `
` late. He is there! I know the secret now. The sea will `
` save me from Him, and it is all that is left!" Before I `
` could say a word, or move forward to seize him, he sprang `
` on the bulwark and deliberately threw himself into the sea. `
` I suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman `
` who had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has `
` followed them himself. God help me! How am I to account `
` for all these horrors when I get to port? When I get to `
` port! Will that ever be? `
` `
` `
` 4 August.--Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce, I `
` know there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I `
` know not. I dared not go below, I dared not leave the `
` helm, so here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the `
` night I saw it, Him! God, forgive me, but the mate was `
` right to jump overboard. It was better to die like a man. `
` To die like a sailor in blue water, no man can object. But `
` I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But I shall `
` baffle this fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to `
` the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with `
` them I shall tie that which He, It, dare not touch. And `
` then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my `
` honour as a captain. I am growing weaker, and the night is `
` coming on. If He can look me in the face again, I may not `
` have time to act. . . If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle `
` may be found, and those who find it may understand. If `
` not . . . well, then all men shall know that I have been `
` true to my trust. God and the Blessed Virgin and the `
` Saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty . . . `
` `
` `
` Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence `
` to adduce, and whether or not the man himself committed the `
` murders there is now none to say. The folk here hold almost `
` universally that the captain is simply a hero, and he is to be `
` given a public funeral. Already it is arranged that his body `
` is to be taken with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece `
` and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps, `
` for he is to be buried in the churchyard on the cliff. The `
` owners of more than a hundred boats have already given in their `
` names as wishing to follow him to the grave. `
` `
` No trace has ever been found of the great dog, at which there is `
` much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he `
` would, I believe, be adopted by the town. Tomorrow will see the `
` funeral, and so will end this one more 'mystery of the sea'. `
` `
` `
` `
` MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL `
` `
` 8 August.--Lucy was very restless all night, and I too, could not `
` sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the `
` chimney pots, it made me shudder. When a sharp puff came it seemed to `
` be like a distant gun. Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake, but she `
` got up twice and dressed herself. Fortunately, each time I awoke in `
` time and managed to undress her without waking her, and got her back to `
` bed. It is a very strange thing, this sleep-walking, for as soon as `
` her will is thwarted in any physical way, her intention, if there be `
` any, disappears, and she yields herself almost exactly to the routine `
` of her life. `
` `
` Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour to see `
` if anything had happened in the night. There were very few people `
` about, and though the sun was bright, and the air clear and fresh, the `
` big, grim-looking waves, that seemed dark themselves because the foam `
` that topped them was like snow, forced themselves in through the mouth `
` of the harbour, like a bullying man going through a crowd. Somehow I `
` felt glad that Jonathan was not on the sea last night, but on land. `
` But, oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, and how? I am getting `
` fearfully anxious about him. If I only knew what to do, and could do `
` anything! `
` `
` `
` 10 August.--The funeral of the poor sea captain today was most `
` touching. Every boat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin `
` was carried by captains all the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the `
` churchyard. Lucy came with me, and we went early to our old seat, `
` whilst the cortege of boats went up the river to the Viaduct and came `
` down again. We had a lovely view, and saw the procession nearly all `
` the way. The poor fellow was laid to rest near our seat so that we `
` stood on it, when the time came and saw everything. `
` `
` Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, `
` and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. `
` She is quite odd in one thing. She will not admit to me that there is `
` any cause for restlessness, or if there be, she does not understand it `
` herself. `
` `
` There is an additional cause in that poor Mr. Swales was found dead `
` this morning on our seat, his neck being broken. He had evidently, as `
` the doctor said, fallen back in the seat in some sort of fright, for `
` there was a look of fear and horror on his face that the men said made `
` them shudder. Poor dear old man! `
` `
` Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely `
` than other people do. Just now she was quite upset by a little thing `
` which I did not much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals. `
` `
` One of the men who came up here often to look for the boats was `
` followed by his dog. The dog is always with him. They are both quiet `
` persons, and I never saw the man angry, nor heard the dog bark. During `
` the service the dog would not come to its master, who was on the seat `
` with us, but kept a few yards off, barking and howling. Its master `
` spoke to it gently, and then harshly, and then angrily. But it would `
` neither come nor cease to make a noise. It was in a fury, with its `
` eyes savage, and all its hair bristling out like a cat's tail when puss `
` is on the war path. `
` `
` Finally the man too got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and `
` then took it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and half threw `
` it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched `
` the stone the poor thing began to tremble. It did not try to get away, `
` but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable `
` state of terror that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it. `
` `
` Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, `
` but looked at it in an agonised sort of way. I greatly fear that she `
` is of too super sensitive a nature to go through the world without `
` trouble. She will be dreaming of this tonight, I am sure. The whole `
` agglomeration of things, the ship steered into port by a dead man, his `
` attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and beads, the touching `
` funeral, the dog, now furious and now in terror, will all afford `
` material for her dreams. `
` `
` I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically, so I `
` shall take her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin Hood's Bay and `
` back. She ought not to have much inclination for sleep-walking then. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER 8 `
` `
` `
` MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL `
` `
` Same day, 11 o'clock P.M.--Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I `
` had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely `
` walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some `
` dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the `
` lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot `
` everything, except of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the `
` slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had a capital 'severe tea' `
` at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet little old-fashioned inn, with a bow `
` window right over the seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. I believe `
` we should have shocked the 'New Woman' with our appetites. Men are `
` more tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather `
` many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a constant dread `
` of wild bulls. `
` `
` Lucy was really tired, and we intended to creep off to bed as soon as `
` we could. The young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked `
` him to stay for supper. Lucy and I had both a fight for it with the `
` dusty miller. I know it was a hard fight on my part, and I am quite `
` heroic. I think that some day the bishops must get together and see `
` about breeding up a new class of curates, who don't take supper, no `
` matter how hard they may be pressed to, and who will know when girls `
` are tired. `
` `
` Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks `
` than usual, and looks, oh so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with `
` her seeing her only in the drawing room, I wonder what he would say if `
` he saw her now. Some of the 'New Women' writers will some day start an `
` idea that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep `
` before proposing or accepting. But I suppose the 'New Woman' won't `
` condescend in future to accept. She will do the proposing herself. And `
` a nice job she will make of it too! There's some consolation in that. `
` I am so happy tonight, because dear Lucy seems better. I really `
` believe she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles `
` with dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan . . . `
`