At length we came to land. We were then somewhere, as I correctly thought, on the north coast of Ireland. When we at last reached shore, we concealed our boat as best we could near the mouth of a small stream. I was by now much weakened by infection, and so I remained hidden with the boat, while Clerval and Frankenstein went in search of information.
My companions returned after an hour or so with some fresh bread and eggs, and news. There was no sizable settlement near, but the men had visited a farmhouse and could now confirm that we had reached northern Ireland. We fell to and ravenously devoured the provisions they had managed to obtain.
Reembarking, we rowed along the coast for a moderate distance, and after a few miles entered the mouth of a much larger stream, which we proceeded to ascend. By this time I was Very feverish with my wound, sliding in and out of delirium. I remember little of that period but lying in the boat, listening to voices only some of which were real, and watching the frightful and fantastic images formed by the leaves and branches that overhung the little river's banks and shaded me. Some days passed in this fashion while my companions did what they could for me.
They argued much between themselves, but in my fever I was unable then to grasp the matter of their dispute. Looking back now I suspect that Frankenstein, as ever unable to make up his mind, was having second thoughts about his break with Saville and Walton. Whether he actually was in favor of rejoining Saville at this point I am not sure; perhaps the argument was only about the best means of continuing our escape.
Knowing that we had escaped in a small boat, and drawing on Walton's substantial knowledge of those waters, our enemies considered that almost certainly the prevailing winds and currents would sweep us down in the direction of Ireland, but that we would not be likely to get so far. As a precaution the assassin Small was dispatched to Ireland, with orders to locate us, if we should arrive, and to keep us, at all costs, from giving convincing evidence to the authorities regarding the crimes of Saville and his hirelings. Meanwhile most of Walton's men, along with the captain and Saville himself, were engaged in searching the islands near the one from which we had got away.
My two companions were faithful to my interest, as they saw it, but they could come to no agreement as to what to do with me, or how best they might be able to secure their own persons and fortunes from disaster. In a state of indecision that promised to prove fatal to us all, we drifted about the rivers and the coast, trying to stay hidden, and at the same time trying to learn whether we were being looked for here, and in what circumstances.
From one trip to a nearby town, undertaken with the object of gaining information, Clerval failed to return. Frankenstein, after a couple of hours, went to look for him and did not come back either. By now I had begun to recover from the wound and the fever, and at last, when darkness had fallen, I grew desperate enough to drag myself in search of my companions.
Moving with great difficulty because of weakness, I made my way into the town. Listening from alleys and at windows, I learned that the body of a murdered man, evidently a foreigner, had been discovered on the street, and from certain personal particulars of dress and appearance I made certain that the victim must have been Clerval. That was a staggering blow, but it was not all; the next piece of intelligence was that another stranger, who could only be my creator, had been arrested and jailed for the crime. The trial, however, would not take places for many months.
I was determined to do what I could for Frankenstein. But any direct attempt at rescue seemed utterly hopeless, particularly in my weakened condition. No more did any imaginable appeal to the authorities, from me, appear likely to be of benefit. Victor himself must have attempted to tell them the truth, or part of it at least, when he was arrested. And if they would not believe the truth from him, an obvious gentleman, what chance that they would believe me, or even listen to my words, before they shot me?
In a state near despair I stumbled back to our concealed boat, and fell into it exhausted. Awakening, in the small hours of the night, from a stuporous sleep, I took thought as best I could on my situation. Only one course of action suggested itself. My brightest and indeed my only hope seemed to me to be in Paris. There, in a country still technically at war with his own, the influence of the powerful Saville would surely be diminished. And there, as I had so often heard from Frankenstein and others, Franklin could be found. The famous American, respected even by his enemies, not only knew my creator personally, but would be prepared, if anyone on earth would be, to understand, perhaps even to explain, how seeming miracles might be achieved with the aid of electricity. If anyone in Europe could help me, it would be he!
I must return to Europe. Such villainy as Saville's and Walton's cannot go undenounced, unpunished. And the responsibility has fallen to me alone. On to Philadelphia!
December 20_Today I have reached Philadelphia. Everywhere I go among the people here, I speak French, and though infrequently understood I am always taken for one of that nation, and usually made welcome. In general I am supposed to be an ally against the oppressive George III, and as such, in the flush of victory, I am now and again rewarded with food, drink, or clothing. As usual, very little of the latter is of a size to be of any benefit to me, but my wardrobe has been improved by the addition of one tolerably good shirt, and a pair of sound leather gloves that must have belonged to a man with hands nearly the size of mine.
Next day_All is grim. Franklin is certainly not here. While plying my trade of snow-shoveling in the vicinity of his house, I have overheard enough servants' gossip to make sure of that.
But there are plenty of places where The Modern Prometheus can be found—more bookshops in this city of quite moderate size than I can remember seeing in either London or Paris—though in truth I had little time for bookshops then.
At night_Lurking around the docks today, trying to discover a way of obtaining passage across the sea, I adopted, as I thought cleverly, the guise of one of a troupe of traveling showfolk—I cast myself in the role of an exhibit, naturally, not an exhibitor—waiting for the leader of the group and some of its other members to catch up with me, when we should all move on together to New York.
Such a story must have drawn some interest to me among the denizens of the cheap taverns and brothels there—what story about me would not? But ironically, as soon as I claimed myself to be a freak, a monstrosity of nature worthy to go on exhibition for a price, those who saw me became convinced that I am only a man, though one of unusual appearance and great strength. My humanity is perceived as soon as I attempt to cast doubt upon it, just as it is almost invariably questioned whenever I choose to present myself as human.
One of those who met me near the docks, a grotesquely tattooed sailor who attempts to appear reasonable and so impresses me as remarkably untrustworthy, has presented me with a proposition. I am to join the crew of a smuggler, now lying offshore somewhere to the north, which is in need of such "stout lads" as myself—and whose next port will, he promises, be London.
I can sense that this man has some additional, private motive in singling me out for this proposal. But if this adventure promises to get me back to England—aboard a smuggler, or not—who cares? In the present state of affairs I must do something.