This was an island whose name I have never heard until this day. Though I am now certain that it lies somewhere among the Hebrides, at the time neither I nor any of the others who had been deceived divined that we were not in Ireland.
There being no proper harbor, we dropped anchor in a small bay and went ashore in boats. On our approach—though it was daylight, I had been allowed on deck as soon as we made landfall—I judged the island to be no more than five miles in its greatest length, and I soon learned that it was only half that wide. A small cluster of central hills, the highest mounting to perhaps a thousand feet above the sea, were covered with a carpet of grass, except where, among the hills especially, rocky outcroppings protruded. A few trees grew among the hills, none at all elsewhere.
The day of our arrival was unusually fine; though as I read it my description seems forbidding, with a fresh breeze and sunshine the aspect of the place was extremely pleasant—especially to one who had been out of sight of sun for days.
My pleasure in the view was somewhat altered by the glances I received when I first appeared above the hatches. From the lack of outcry I suppose the crew had already learned that there was an additional passenger, but none were prepared for the sight of me. There were stares and mutterings from the crew, until the captain glared them into silence. Since I cannot believe that Walton was concerned to spare my feelings I must assume that he glared at his crew almost every time he came in sight of them, and heartily disapproved of any spontaneous action that they might take. Indeed, I expect he was happiest with his crew when he was writing about them in his book, where each word and action were under his complete control.
The nameless, roadless bay at which we came ashore had been the site of a small fishing settlement, a dozen stone cottages and outbuildings, though none of the former inhabitants were to be seen on our arrival. A combination of bad luck in fishing and a series of disastrous storms had left the place nearly deserted, and a small payment from Saville had induced the others to depart for another island. The settlement's buildings were in a state of wretched disrepair; in most of the structures little more than the stone walls remained standing.
The sailors who had rowed me ashore heaved a sigh of relief as I stepped from their boat, and those already ashore were glad enough to keep their distance as I paced from shallow water up onto the shingle.
There was a small stream running down through the village, and I moved toward this, and climbed along its bank, delighted to be even momentarily away from others. I thought that I could see a brown fish darting through the shallows. I suppose now it was a trout. The water in the stream, this near the sea, was brackish when I bent to taste it.
The three women had come ashore together, in the boat immediately following mine. Looking back, I saw Bess and Molly, for the moment ignoring the savage character of the place in which they found themselves, offering up prayers of thanksgiving for having solid land once more beneath their feet.
Frankenstein's laboratory equipment, and an ample stock of supplies of all kinds, were soon brought ashore. Walton did not linger; after setting all ashore the Argo set sail for London, there to await the return of Frankenstein from his sad mission on the Continent.
The first task we undertook was to set up a few tents. That was the work of an hour only, and in the remaining daylight all hands fell to, to begin the work of restoring the abandoned cottages to a livable condition. As most of the ship's crew had departed with her, much of the heavy labor of this effort fell to me. I had no objection to this, and indeed was pleased to be able, as I thought, to impel the enterprise forward. Two or three crewmen had been left on the island, but they now had the duties of servants—and of guards—to perform as well as those of laborers.
Having left his new wife more or less in charge of his affairs in London, Saville took personal charge of the reconstruction effort, issuing orders on every hand. It was obvious that he was enjoying his wealth and power in a new way in this lonely place, that he delighted in being the absolute lord and master of everything and everyone in sight.
As awareness of their lonely situation was borne in upon them, Molly and Bess became much cast down, but they had little time in which to mourn their condition. Mrs. Hammer, looking as grim and prim as ever (Hammer himself had remained at his own thriving trade in London) kept the two young women busy from the hours of their arrival, cooking, scrubbing, and washing, serving all the rest of us. Housekeeping was to be their task until, as she told them, the hospital should be ready, when each of them should find herself supervising a staff of Irish menials. This prospect cheered the girls somewhat.
Within an hour of landing I had begun to suspect that this was not Ireland—certain scraps of old papers I found among the litter in the abandoned cottages made me doubt it. And I, of course, had never believed that there was going to be a hospital.
When rain, an almost daily occurrence, came on near evening, I took shelter, as did the common hands, under pieces of tarpaulin. Fires were kept going. Discomfort was nothing new to any of us, and the night passed.
In early morning the sky cleared for a time, and again the world of early summer was transformed into a place of beauty.
I arose, and wandered unnoticed away from the others. Herons were nesting not far from the village, and I paused to watch. -Never before had I had the chance, the freedom, to become absorbed in the beauties of nature.
Looking back to where smoke rose from our fires, I saw that the young women were both up early, drawing and fetching water from the stream, carrying their empty buckets uphill and inland to where the water was fresh. In their way the two girls were beautiful too, I thought—parts of the same nature as the herons. But the girls were not of me, nor I of them. I watched and enjoyed them as I did the birds, and dreamed of the mate my creator was going to provide for me. She would look—more or less like me, and I took pleasure in the thought. Despite the universal reaction of those I met, I did not yet consider myself deformed or ugly. That feeling came upon me later, and only more lately still have I begun to rid myself of it.
Forgotten, I wandered unmolested ever farther from the village, seduced by the nature around me. At length I came upon an ancient burial mound, its top on a level with my head. How was I able to recognize it for what it was? How many of my shipmates, it occurred to me to wonder, could? I doubted that even the gentlemen, with their Greek and Latin, would recognize the long earthen shape for what it was.
As I stood musing thus the young women came by several times, carrying their pails upstream for fresh water. Bess, on her second or third trip, dared approach me closely enough to converse. I was ugly in her eyes, of course, but doubtless she had known an ugly man or two before, and found them bearable.
Since it was plain to her I was no gentleman, she could question me freely. She wanted to know my name, and would not believe that I had none to give her. We talked about the strangeness of the place where we found ourselves, and I told her what the mound was. She stared at me, having no idea if what I said was true, and if it was, how I might have come to know about it. No more did I.
Day passed and our labor of reconstruction made good progress.
Towards the end of July, Walton brought the Argo back to our small colony, and Victor was aboard. As he was rowed ashore my creator looked as grim as I had ever seen him. When he jumped from the boat and waded through the last inches of the gentle surf, Clerval and Saville hastened to meet him.
As the rest of us gathered round unbidden on the beach, Frankenstein lost no time in outlining for us the sad strange tale of his murdered brother.