The most dangerous game (by Richard Connell) part 1

[Red02102002]

 
   Off there to the right-somewhere-is a large," said Whitney. "It's rather a mystery-"
   "What island is it?" Rainsford asked.
   "The old charts call it 'Ship-Trap Island,'" Whitney replied. "Sailors have a currious dread of the place. I don't know why. Some superstition-"
   "Can't see it," remarked Rainford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that pressed its thick, warm blackness in upon the yacht.
   "You've good eyes," said Whitney, with a laugh, "and I've seen you pick off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundre yards, but even you can't see four miles or so through a moonless Caribbean night."
   "Nor four yards," admitted Rainsford. "Ugh! It's like moist black velvet."
   "It will be light in Rio," promised Whitney. "We should make it in a few days. I hope the jaguar guns have come. We should have some good hunting up the Amazon. Great sport, hunting."
   "The best sport in the world," agreed Rainsford.
   "For the hunter," amended Whitney. "Not for the jaguar."
   "Don't talk rot, Whitney," said Rainsford. "you're a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?"
   "Perhaps the jaguar does," observed Whitney.
   "Bah! They've no  understand one thing-fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death."
   "nonsense," laughed Rainsford. "This hot weather is makeing you solf, Whitney. Be a realist. The world is made up of town classses-the hunters and the huntees. Luckily, you and I are hunters. Do you think we've passed that island yet?"
   "I can't tell in the dark. I hope so."
   "Why?" asked Rainsford.
"The place has a reputation-a bad one. Didn't you notice that the crew's nerves seemed a bit jumpy today?"
   They were a bit strande, now you mention it . Even Captain Nielsen-"
   "yes.. Those fishey blue eyes held a look I never saw there before. All I could get out of him was: 'This place has an evil name among seafaring men, sir.' Then he said to me, very gravely: 'Don't you feel anything?'-as if the air about us was actually poisonous. Now, you mustn't laugh when I tell you this-I did feel something like a sudden chill.
   "There was no breeze. The sea was as flat as a plate-glass window. We were drawing near the island then. What I felt was a-a mental chill; a sort of sudden dread."
   "Pure imagination," said Rainsford. "One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship's company with his fear."