From the back of me came the murmuring sound of the sea. Suddenly the moon appeared betwixt ragged clouds, casting a livid light upon the misty surface of the morass, and vanished.
In the daytime, in the warmth and light of the sun, I cared little for the ghostly mysteries of the island. I said that the Thing which had frighted us on the ship—the dreadful ghostly figure—had nothing spectral in it, but was contrived, after some wondrous manner, by Doctor Copicus. But here, at night, in this weird and desolate situation, my boldness proved to be but a daylight boldness.
What, I asked myself, if the Thing should arise before me here and now? What was that screeching cry?
I took thought which way to go. It were a drear thing to cross the morass in the dark. What then?
I must, at all adventures, act, and act quickly, or a panic terror would come upon me.
But whilst I stood thus in doubt, the voice of the sea came to me: and, turning that way, I thrust desperately in amongst the woods. They were dark and dank like a cavern. Unknown creatures started at my feet, uttering weird cries. They were full of bats, which fluttered about my head; and something winged and heavy darted up from the undergrowth and tore and bit at my face!
Perchance it was but a flying fox; but I screamed with fright. I tore the thing from me, and dashed myself headlong through the thick covert. You may call me a craven; but, on coming forth from that wood, I sobbed like a terrified child!
I proceeded, wading and staggering through tall reeds matted with creepers.
’Twas a desolate situation; and, as I went staggering on through the reeds, I looked this way and that, fearful of beholding the face of some dreadful devil.
It seemed to me, that unearthly things did peer at me upon every side. I fought against the frenzy of my fear. Suddenly I caught the sound of a rustling in the tall grasses at the back of me. I drew my rapier, and stood, looking back, hearkening intently; but could hear it no more.