Reading Help War of the worlds Book 2
"Don't move," he said. "The floor is covered with smashed crockery `
` from the dresser. You can't possibly move without making a noise, and `
` I fancy _they_ are outside." `
` `
` We both sat quite silent, so that we could scarcely hear each other `
` breathing. Everything seemed deadly still, but once something near `
` us, some plaster or broken brickwork, slid down with a rumbling sound. `
` Outside and very near was an intermittent, metallic rattle. `
` `
` "That!" said the curate, when presently it happened again. `
` `
` "Yes," I said. "But what is it?" `
` `
` "A Martian!" said the curate. `
` `
` I listened again. `
` `
` "It was not like the Heat-Ray," I said, and for a time I was `
` inclined to think one of the great fighting-machines had stumbled `
` against the house, as I had seen one stumble against the tower of `
` Shepperton Church. `
` `
` Our situation was so strange and incomprehensible that for three or `
` four hours, until the dawn came, we scarcely moved. And then the light `
` filtered in, not through the window, which remained black, but through `
` a triangular aperture between a beam and a heap of broken bricks in `
` the wall behind us. The interior of the kitchen we now saw greyly for `
` the first time. `
` `
` The window had been burst in by a mass of garden mould, which `
` flowed over the table upon which we had been sitting and lay about our `
` feet. Outside, the soil was banked high against the house. At the `
` top of the window frame we could see an uprooted drainpipe. The floor `
` was littered with smashed hardware; the end of the kitchen towards the `
` house was broken into, and since the daylight shone in there, it was `
` evident the greater part of the house had collapsed. Contrasting `
` vividly with this ruin was the neat dresser, stained in the fashion, `
` pale green, and with a number of copper and tin vessels below it, the `
` wallpaper imitating blue and white tiles, and a couple of coloured `
` supplements fluttering from the walls above the kitchen range. `
` `
` As the dawn grew clearer, we saw through the gap in the wall the `
` body of a Martian, standing sentinel, I suppose, over the still `
` glowing cylinder. At the sight of that we crawled as circumspectly as `
` possible out of the twilight of the kitchen into the darkness of the `
` scullery. `
` `
` Abruptly the right interpretation dawned upon my mind. `
` `
` "The fifth cylinder," I whispered, "the fifth shot from Mars, has `
` struck this house and buried us under the ruins!" `
` `
` For a time the curate was silent, and then he whispered: `
` `
` "God have mercy upon us!" `
` `
` I heard him presently whimpering to himself. `
` `
` Save for that sound we lay quite still in the scullery; I for my `
` part scarce dared breathe, and sat with my eyes fixed on the faint `
` light of the kitchen door. I could just see the curate's face, a dim, `
` oval shape, and his collar and cuffs. Outside there began a metallic `
` hammering, then a violent hooting, and then again, after a quiet `
` interval, a hissing like the hissing of an engine. These noises, for `
` the most part problematical, continued intermittently, and seemed if `
` anything to increase in number as time wore on. Presently a measured `
` thudding and a vibration that made everything about us quiver and the `
` vessels in the pantry ring and shift, began and continued. Once the `
` light was eclipsed, and the ghostly kitchen doorway became absolutely `
` dark. For many hours we must have crouched there, silent and `
` shivering, until our tired attention failed. . . . `
` `
` At last I found myself awake and very hungry. I am inclined to `
` believe we must have spent the greater portion of a day before that `
` awakening. My hunger was at a stride so insistent that it moved me to `
` action. I told the curate I was going to seek food, and felt my way `
` towards the pantry. He made me no answer, but so soon as I began `
` eating the faint noise I made stirred him up and I heard him crawling `
` after me. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER TWO `
` `
` WHAT WE SAW FROM THE RUINED HOUSE `
` `
` `
` After eating we crept back to the scullery, and there I must have `
` dozed again, for when presently I looked round I was alone. The `
` thudding vibration continued with wearisome persistence. I whispered `
` for the curate several times, and at last felt my way to the door of `
` the kitchen. It was still daylight, and I perceived him across the `
` room, lying against the triangular hole that looked out upon the `
` Martians. His shoulders were hunched, so that his head was hidden `
` from me. `
` `
` I could hear a number of noises almost like those in an engine `
` shed; and the place rocked with that beating thud. Through the `
` aperture in the wall I could see the top of a tree touched with gold `
` and the warm blue of a tranquil evening sky. For a minute or so I `
` remained watching the curate, and then I advanced, crouching and `
` stepping with extreme care amid the broken crockery that littered the `
` floor. `
` `
` I touched the curate's leg, and he started so violently that a mass `
` of plaster went sliding down outside and fell with a loud impact. I `
` gripped his arm, fearing he might cry out, and for a long time we `
` crouched motionless. Then I turned to see how much of our rampart `
` remained. The detachment of the plaster had left a vertical slit open `
` in the debris, and by raising myself cautiously across a beam I was `
` able to see out of this gap into what had been overnight a quiet `
` suburban roadway. Vast, indeed, was the change that we beheld. `
` `
` The fifth cylinder must have fallen right into the midst of the `
` house we had first visited. The building had vanished, completely `
` smashed, pulverised, and dispersed by the blow. The cylinder lay now `
` far beneath the original foundations--deep in a hole, already vastly `
` larger than the pit I had looked into at Woking. The earth all round `
` it had splashed under that tremendous impact--"splashed" is the only `
` word--and lay in heaped piles that hid the masses of the adjacent `
` houses. It had behaved exactly like mud under the violent blow of a `
` hammer. Our house had collapsed backward; the front portion, even on `
` the ground floor, had been destroyed completely; by a chance the `
` kitchen and scullery had escaped, and stood buried now under soil and `
` ruins, closed in by tons of earth on every side save towards the `
` cylinder. Over that aspect we hung now on the very edge of the great `
` circular pit the Martians were engaged in making. The heavy beating `
` sound was evidently just behind us, and ever and again a bright green `
` vapour drove up like a veil across our peephole. `
` `
` The cylinder was already opened in the centre of the pit, and on `
` the farther edge of the pit, amid the smashed and gravel-heaped `
` shrubbery, one of the great fighting-machines, deserted by its `
` occupant, stood stiff and tall against the evening sky. At first I `
` scarcely noticed the pit and the cylinder, although it has been `
` convenient to describe them first, on account of the extraordinary `
` glittering mechanism I saw busy in the excavation, and on account of `
` the strange creatures that were crawling slowly and painfully across `
` the heaped mould near it. `
` `
` The mechanism it certainly was that held my attention first. It `
` was one of those complicated fabrics that have since been called `
` handling-machines, and the study of which has already given such an `
` enormous impetus to terrestrial invention. As it dawned upon me `
` first, it presented a sort of metallic spider with five jointed, `
` agile legs, and with an extraordinary number of jointed levers, bars, `
` and reaching and clutching tentacles about its body. Most of its `
` arms were retracted, but with three long tentacles it was fishing `
` out a number of rods, plates, and bars which lined the covering and `
` apparently strengthened the walls of the cylinder. These, as it `
` extracted them, were lifted out and deposited upon a level surface `
` of earth behind it. `
` `
` Its motion was so swift, complex, and perfect that at first I did `
` not see it as a machine, in spite of its metallic glitter. The `
` fighting-machines were coordinated and animated to an extraordinary `
` pitch, but nothing to compare with this. People who have never seen `
` these structures, and have only the ill-imagined efforts of artists or `
` the imperfect descriptions of such eye-witnesses as myself to go upon, `
` scarcely realise that living quality. `
` `
` I recall particularly the illustration of one of the first `
` pamphlets to give a consecutive account of the war. The artist had `
` evidently made a hasty study of one of the fighting-machines, and `
` there his knowledge ended. He presented them as tilted, stiff `
` tripods, without either flexibility or subtlety, and with an `
` altogether misleading monotony of effect. The pamphlet containing `
` these renderings had a considerable vogue, and I mention them here `
` simply to warn the reader against the impression they may have `
` created. They were no more like the Martians I saw in action than a `
` Dutch doll is like a human being. To my mind, the pamphlet would have `
` been much better without them. `
` `
` At first, I say, the handling-machine did not impress me as a `
` machine, but as a crablike creature with a glittering integument, the `
` controlling Martian whose delicate tentacles actuated its movements `
` seeming to be simply the equivalent of the crab's cerebral portion. `
` But then I perceived the resemblance of its grey-brown, shiny, `
` leathery integument to that of the other sprawling bodies beyond, and `
` the true nature of this dexterous workman dawned upon me. With that `
` realisation my interest shifted to those other creatures, the real `
` Martians. Already I had had a transient impression of these, and the `
` first nausea no longer obscured my observation. Moreover, I was `
` concealed and motionless, and under no urgency of action. `
` `
` They were, I now saw, the most unearthly creatures it is possible `
` to conceive. They were huge round bodies--or, rather, heads--about `
` four feet in diameter, each body having in front of it a face. This `
` face had no nostrils--indeed, the Martians do not seem to have had any `
` sense of smell, but it had a pair of very large dark-coloured eyes, `
` and just beneath this a kind of fleshy beak. In the back of this head `
` or body--I scarcely know how to speak of it--was the single tight `
` tympanic surface, since known to be anatomically an ear, though it `
` must have been almost useless in our dense air. In a group round the `
` mouth were sixteen slender, almost whiplike tentacles, arranged in two `
` bunches of eight each. These bunches have since been named rather `
` aptly, by that distinguished anatomist, Professor Howes, the _hands_. `
` Even as I saw these Martians for the first time they seemed to be `
` endeavouring to raise themselves on these hands, but of course, with `
` the increased weight of terrestrial conditions, this was impossible. `
` There is reason to suppose that on Mars they may have progressed upon `
`
` from the dresser. You can't possibly move without making a noise, and `
` I fancy _they_ are outside." `
` `
` We both sat quite silent, so that we could scarcely hear each other `
` breathing. Everything seemed deadly still, but once something near `
` us, some plaster or broken brickwork, slid down with a rumbling sound. `
` Outside and very near was an intermittent, metallic rattle. `
` `
` "That!" said the curate, when presently it happened again. `
` `
` "Yes," I said. "But what is it?" `
` `
` "A Martian!" said the curate. `
` `
` I listened again. `
` `
` "It was not like the Heat-Ray," I said, and for a time I was `
` inclined to think one of the great fighting-machines had stumbled `
` against the house, as I had seen one stumble against the tower of `
` Shepperton Church. `
` `
` Our situation was so strange and incomprehensible that for three or `
` four hours, until the dawn came, we scarcely moved. And then the light `
` filtered in, not through the window, which remained black, but through `
` a triangular aperture between a beam and a heap of broken bricks in `
` the wall behind us. The interior of the kitchen we now saw greyly for `
` the first time. `
` `
` The window had been burst in by a mass of garden mould, which `
` flowed over the table upon which we had been sitting and lay about our `
` feet. Outside, the soil was banked high against the house. At the `
` top of the window frame we could see an uprooted drainpipe. The floor `
` was littered with smashed hardware; the end of the kitchen towards the `
` house was broken into, and since the daylight shone in there, it was `
` evident the greater part of the house had collapsed. Contrasting `
` vividly with this ruin was the neat dresser, stained in the fashion, `
` pale green, and with a number of copper and tin vessels below it, the `
` wallpaper imitating blue and white tiles, and a couple of coloured `
` supplements fluttering from the walls above the kitchen range. `
` `
` As the dawn grew clearer, we saw through the gap in the wall the `
` body of a Martian, standing sentinel, I suppose, over the still `
` glowing cylinder. At the sight of that we crawled as circumspectly as `
` possible out of the twilight of the kitchen into the darkness of the `
` scullery. `
` `
` Abruptly the right interpretation dawned upon my mind. `
` `
` "The fifth cylinder," I whispered, "the fifth shot from Mars, has `
` struck this house and buried us under the ruins!" `
` `
` For a time the curate was silent, and then he whispered: `
` `
` "God have mercy upon us!" `
` `
` I heard him presently whimpering to himself. `
` `
` Save for that sound we lay quite still in the scullery; I for my `
` part scarce dared breathe, and sat with my eyes fixed on the faint `
` light of the kitchen door. I could just see the curate's face, a dim, `
` oval shape, and his collar and cuffs. Outside there began a metallic `
` hammering, then a violent hooting, and then again, after a quiet `
` interval, a hissing like the hissing of an engine. These noises, for `
` the most part problematical, continued intermittently, and seemed if `
` anything to increase in number as time wore on. Presently a measured `
` thudding and a vibration that made everything about us quiver and the `
` vessels in the pantry ring and shift, began and continued. Once the `
` light was eclipsed, and the ghostly kitchen doorway became absolutely `
` dark. For many hours we must have crouched there, silent and `
` shivering, until our tired attention failed. . . . `
` `
` At last I found myself awake and very hungry. I am inclined to `
` believe we must have spent the greater portion of a day before that `
` awakening. My hunger was at a stride so insistent that it moved me to `
` action. I told the curate I was going to seek food, and felt my way `
` towards the pantry. He made me no answer, but so soon as I began `
` eating the faint noise I made stirred him up and I heard him crawling `
` after me. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER TWO `
` `
` WHAT WE SAW FROM THE RUINED HOUSE `
` `
` `
` After eating we crept back to the scullery, and there I must have `
` dozed again, for when presently I looked round I was alone. The `
` thudding vibration continued with wearisome persistence. I whispered `
` for the curate several times, and at last felt my way to the door of `
` the kitchen. It was still daylight, and I perceived him across the `
` room, lying against the triangular hole that looked out upon the `
` Martians. His shoulders were hunched, so that his head was hidden `
` from me. `
` `
` I could hear a number of noises almost like those in an engine `
` shed; and the place rocked with that beating thud. Through the `
` aperture in the wall I could see the top of a tree touched with gold `
` and the warm blue of a tranquil evening sky. For a minute or so I `
` remained watching the curate, and then I advanced, crouching and `
` stepping with extreme care amid the broken crockery that littered the `
` floor. `
` `
` I touched the curate's leg, and he started so violently that a mass `
` of plaster went sliding down outside and fell with a loud impact. I `
` gripped his arm, fearing he might cry out, and for a long time we `
` crouched motionless. Then I turned to see how much of our rampart `
` remained. The detachment of the plaster had left a vertical slit open `
` in the debris, and by raising myself cautiously across a beam I was `
` able to see out of this gap into what had been overnight a quiet `
` suburban roadway. Vast, indeed, was the change that we beheld. `
` `
` The fifth cylinder must have fallen right into the midst of the `
` house we had first visited. The building had vanished, completely `
` smashed, pulverised, and dispersed by the blow. The cylinder lay now `
` far beneath the original foundations--deep in a hole, already vastly `
` larger than the pit I had looked into at Woking. The earth all round `
` it had splashed under that tremendous impact--"splashed" is the only `
` word--and lay in heaped piles that hid the masses of the adjacent `
` houses. It had behaved exactly like mud under the violent blow of a `
` hammer. Our house had collapsed backward; the front portion, even on `
` the ground floor, had been destroyed completely; by a chance the `
` kitchen and scullery had escaped, and stood buried now under soil and `
` ruins, closed in by tons of earth on every side save towards the `
` cylinder. Over that aspect we hung now on the very edge of the great `
` circular pit the Martians were engaged in making. The heavy beating `
` sound was evidently just behind us, and ever and again a bright green `
` vapour drove up like a veil across our peephole. `
` `
` The cylinder was already opened in the centre of the pit, and on `
` the farther edge of the pit, amid the smashed and gravel-heaped `
` shrubbery, one of the great fighting-machines, deserted by its `
` occupant, stood stiff and tall against the evening sky. At first I `
` scarcely noticed the pit and the cylinder, although it has been `
` convenient to describe them first, on account of the extraordinary `
` glittering mechanism I saw busy in the excavation, and on account of `
` the strange creatures that were crawling slowly and painfully across `
` the heaped mould near it. `
` `
` The mechanism it certainly was that held my attention first. It `
` was one of those complicated fabrics that have since been called `
` handling-machines, and the study of which has already given such an `
` enormous impetus to terrestrial invention. As it dawned upon me `
` first, it presented a sort of metallic spider with five jointed, `
` agile legs, and with an extraordinary number of jointed levers, bars, `
` and reaching and clutching tentacles about its body. Most of its `
` arms were retracted, but with three long tentacles it was fishing `
` out a number of rods, plates, and bars which lined the covering and `
` apparently strengthened the walls of the cylinder. These, as it `
` extracted them, were lifted out and deposited upon a level surface `
` of earth behind it. `
` `
` Its motion was so swift, complex, and perfect that at first I did `
` not see it as a machine, in spite of its metallic glitter. The `
` fighting-machines were coordinated and animated to an extraordinary `
` pitch, but nothing to compare with this. People who have never seen `
` these structures, and have only the ill-imagined efforts of artists or `
` the imperfect descriptions of such eye-witnesses as myself to go upon, `
` scarcely realise that living quality. `
` `
` I recall particularly the illustration of one of the first `
` pamphlets to give a consecutive account of the war. The artist had `
` evidently made a hasty study of one of the fighting-machines, and `
` there his knowledge ended. He presented them as tilted, stiff `
` tripods, without either flexibility or subtlety, and with an `
` altogether misleading monotony of effect. The pamphlet containing `
` these renderings had a considerable vogue, and I mention them here `
` simply to warn the reader against the impression they may have `
` created. They were no more like the Martians I saw in action than a `
` Dutch doll is like a human being. To my mind, the pamphlet would have `
` been much better without them. `
` `
` At first, I say, the handling-machine did not impress me as a `
` machine, but as a crablike creature with a glittering integument, the `
` controlling Martian whose delicate tentacles actuated its movements `
` seeming to be simply the equivalent of the crab's cerebral portion. `
` But then I perceived the resemblance of its grey-brown, shiny, `
` leathery integument to that of the other sprawling bodies beyond, and `
` the true nature of this dexterous workman dawned upon me. With that `
` realisation my interest shifted to those other creatures, the real `
` Martians. Already I had had a transient impression of these, and the `
` first nausea no longer obscured my observation. Moreover, I was `
` concealed and motionless, and under no urgency of action. `
` `
` They were, I now saw, the most unearthly creatures it is possible `
` to conceive. They were huge round bodies--or, rather, heads--about `
` four feet in diameter, each body having in front of it a face. This `
` face had no nostrils--indeed, the Martians do not seem to have had any `
` sense of smell, but it had a pair of very large dark-coloured eyes, `
` and just beneath this a kind of fleshy beak. In the back of this head `
` or body--I scarcely know how to speak of it--was the single tight `
` tympanic surface, since known to be anatomically an ear, though it `
` must have been almost useless in our dense air. In a group round the `
` mouth were sixteen slender, almost whiplike tentacles, arranged in two `
` bunches of eight each. These bunches have since been named rather `
` aptly, by that distinguished anatomist, Professor Howes, the _hands_. `
` Even as I saw these Martians for the first time they seemed to be `
` endeavouring to raise themselves on these hands, but of course, with `
` the increased weight of terrestrial conditions, this was impossible. `
` There is reason to suppose that on Mars they may have progressed upon `
`