Reading Help War of the worlds by H. G. Wells. Book 1
turned aside by the fire, and hid among some almost scorching heaps of `
` broken wall as one of the Martian giants returned. He saw this one `
` pursue a man, catch him up in one of its steely tentacles, and knock `
` his head against the trunk of a pine tree. At last, after nightfall, `
` the artilleryman made a rush for it and got over the railway `
` embankment. `
` `
` Since then he had been skulking along towards Maybury, in the hope `
` of getting out of danger Londonward. People were hiding in trenches `
` and cellars, and many of the survivors had made off towards Woking `
` village and Send. He had been consumed with thirst until he found one `
` of the water mains near the railway arch smashed, and the water `
` bubbling out like a spring upon the road. `
` `
` That was the story I got from him, bit by bit. He grew calmer `
` telling me and trying to make me see the things he had seen. He had `
` eaten no food since midday, he told me early in his narrative, and I `
` found some mutton and bread in the pantry and brought it into the `
` room. We lit no lamp for fear of attracting the Martians, and ever `
` and again our hands would touch upon bread or meat. As he talked, `
` things about us came darkly out of the darkness, and the trampled `
` bushes and broken rose trees outside the window grew distinct. It `
` would seem that a number of men or animals had rushed across the lawn. `
` I began to see his face, blackened and haggard, as no doubt mine was `
` also. `
` `
` When we had finished eating we went softly upstairs to my study, `
` and I looked again out of the open window. In one night the valley `
` had become a valley of ashes. The fires had dwindled now. Where `
` flames had been there were now streamers of smoke; but the countless `
` ruins of shattered and gutted houses and blasted and blackened trees `
` that the night had hidden stood out now gaunt and terrible in the `
` pitiless light of dawn. Yet here and there some object had had the `
` luck to escape--a white railway signal here, the end of a greenhouse `
` there, white and fresh amid the wreckage. Never before in the history `
` of warfare had destruction been so indiscriminate and so universal. `
` And shining with the growing light of the east, three of the metallic `
` giants stood about the pit, their cowls rotating as though they were `
` surveying the desolation they had made. `
` `
` It seemed to me that the pit had been enlarged, and ever and again `
` puffs of vivid green vapour streamed up and out of it towards the `
` brightening dawn--streamed up, whirled, broke, and vanished. `
` `
` Beyond were the pillars of fire about Chobham. They became pillars `
` of bloodshot smoke at the first touch of day. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER TWELVE `
` `
` WHAT I SAW OF THE DESTRUCTION OF WEYBRIDGE AND SHEPPERTON `
` `
` `
` As the dawn grew brighter we withdrew from the window from which we `
` had watched the Martians, and went very quietly downstairs. `
` `
` The artilleryman agreed with me that the house was no place to stay `
` in. He proposed, he said, to make his way Londonward, and thence `
` rejoin his battery--No. 12, of the Horse Artillery. My plan was to `
` return at once to Leatherhead; and so greatly had the strength of the `
` Martians impressed me that I had determined to take my wife to `
` Newhaven, and go with her out of the country forthwith. For I already `
` perceived clearly that the country about London must inevitably be the `
` scene of a disastrous struggle before such creatures as these could be `
` destroyed. `
` `
` Between us and Leatherhead, however, lay the third cylinder, with `
` its guarding giants. Had I been alone, I think I should have taken my `
` chance and struck across country. But the artilleryman dissuaded me: `
` "It's no kindness to the right sort of wife," he said, "to make her a `
` widow"; and in the end I agreed to go with him, under cover of the `
` woods, northward as far as Street Cobham before I parted with him. `
` Thence I would make a big detour by Epsom to reach Leatherhead. `
` `
` I should have started at once, but my companion had been in active `
` service and he knew better than that. He made me ransack the house `
` for a flask, which he filled with whiskey; and we lined every `
` available pocket with packets of biscuits and slices of meat. Then `
` we crept out of the house, and ran as quickly as we could down the `
` ill-made road by which I had come overnight. The houses seemed `
` deserted. In the road lay a group of three charred bodies close `
` together, struck dead by the Heat-Ray; and here and there were things `
` that people had dropped--a clock, a slipper, a silver spoon, and the `
` like poor valuables. At the corner turning up towards the post `
` office a little cart, filled with boxes and furniture, and horseless, `
` heeled over on a broken wheel. A cash box had been hastily smashed `
` open and thrown under the debris. `
` `
` Except the lodge at the Orphanage, which was still on fire, none of `
` the houses had suffered very greatly here. The Heat-Ray had shaved `
` the chimney tops and passed. Yet, save ourselves, there did not seem `
` to be a living soul on Maybury Hill. The majority of the inhabitants `
` had escaped, I suppose, by way of the Old Woking road--the road I had `
` taken when I drove to Leatherhead--or they had hidden. `
` `
` We went down the lane, by the body of the man in black, sodden now `
` from the overnight hail, and broke into the woods at the foot of the `
` hill. We pushed through these towards the railway without meeting a `
` soul. The woods across the line were but the scarred and blackened `
` ruins of woods; for the most part the trees had fallen, but a certain `
` proportion still stood, dismal grey stems, with dark brown foliage `
` instead of green. `
` `
` On our side the fire had done no more than scorch the nearer trees; `
` it had failed to secure its footing. In one place the woodmen had `
` been at work on Saturday; trees, felled and freshly trimmed, lay in a `
` clearing, with heaps of sawdust by the sawing-machine and its engine. `
` Hard by was a temporary hut, deserted. There was not a breath of wind `
` this morning, and everything was strangely still. Even the birds were `
` hushed, and as we hurried along I and the artilleryman talked in `
` whispers and looked now and again over our shoulders. Once or twice `
` we stopped to listen. `
` `
` After a time we drew near the road, and as we did so we heard the `
` clatter of hoofs and saw through the tree stems three cavalry soldiers `
` riding slowly towards Woking. We hailed them, and they halted while `
` we hurried towards them. It was a lieutenant and a couple of privates `
` of the 8th Hussars, with a stand like a theodolite, which the `
` artilleryman told me was a heliograph. `
` `
` "You are the first men I've seen coming this way this morning," `
` said the lieutenant. "What's brewing?" `
` `
` His voice and face were eager. The men behind him stared `
` curiously. The artilleryman jumped down the bank into the road and `
` saluted. `
` `
` "Gun destroyed last night, sir. Have been hiding. Trying to `
` rejoin battery, sir. You'll come in sight of the Martians, I expect, `
` about half a mile along this road." `
` `
` "What the dickens are they like?" asked the lieutenant. `
` `
` "Giants in armour, sir. Hundred feet high. Three legs and a body `
` like 'luminium, with a mighty great head in a hood, sir." `
` `
` "Get out!" said the lieutenant. "What confounded nonsense!" `
` `
` "You'll see, sir. They carry a kind of box, sir, that shoots fire `
` and strikes you dead." `
` `
` "What d'ye mean--a gun?" `
` `
` "No, sir," and the artilleryman began a vivid account of the Heat-Ray. `
` Halfway through, the lieutenant interrupted him and looked up at `
` me. I was still standing on the bank by the side of the road. `
` `
` "It's perfectly true," I said. `
` `
` "Well," said the lieutenant, "I suppose it's my business to see it `
` too. Look here"--to the artilleryman--"we're detailed here clearing `
` people out of their houses. You'd better go along and report yourself `
` to Brigadier-General Marvin, and tell him all you know. He's at `
` Weybridge. Know the way?" `
` `
` "I do," I said; and he turned his horse southward again. `
` `
` "Half a mile, you say?" said he. `
` `
` "At most," I answered, and pointed over the treetops southward. He `
` thanked me and rode on, and we saw them no more. `
` `
` Farther along we came upon a group of three women and two children `
` in the road, busy clearing out a labourer's cottage. They had `
` got hold of a little hand truck, and were piling it up with `
` unclean-looking bundles and shabby furniture. They were all too `
` assiduously engaged to talk to us as we passed. `
` `
` By Byfleet station we emerged from the pine trees, and found the `
` country calm and peaceful under the morning sunlight. We were far `
` beyond the range of the Heat-Ray there, and had it not been for the `
` silent desertion of some of the houses, the stirring movement of `
` packing in others, and the knot of soldiers standing on the bridge `
` over the railway and staring down the line towards Woking, the day `
` would have seemed very like any other Sunday. `
` `
` Several farm waggons and carts were moving creakily along the road `
` to Addlestone, and suddenly through the gate of a field we saw, across `
` a stretch of flat meadow, six twelve-pounders standing neatly at equal `
` distances pointing towards Woking. The gunners stood by the guns `
` waiting, and the ammunition waggons were at a business-like distance. `
` The men stood almost as if under inspection. `
` `
` "That's good!" said I. "They will get one fair shot, at any rate." `
` `
` The artilleryman hesitated at the gate. `
` `
` "I shall go on," he said. `
` `
` Farther on towards Weybridge, just over the bridge, there were a `
` number of men in white fatigue jackets throwing up a long rampart, and `
` more guns behind. `
` `
` "It's bows and arrows against the lightning, anyhow," said the `
` artilleryman. "They 'aven't seen that fire-beam yet." `
` `
` The officers who were not actively engaged stood and stared over `
` the treetops southwestward, and the men digging would stop every now `
` and again to stare in the same direction. `
` `
`
` broken wall as one of the Martian giants returned. He saw this one `
` pursue a man, catch him up in one of its steely tentacles, and knock `
` his head against the trunk of a pine tree. At last, after nightfall, `
` the artilleryman made a rush for it and got over the railway `
` embankment. `
` `
` Since then he had been skulking along towards Maybury, in the hope `
` of getting out of danger Londonward. People were hiding in trenches `
` and cellars, and many of the survivors had made off towards Woking `
` village and Send. He had been consumed with thirst until he found one `
` of the water mains near the railway arch smashed, and the water `
` bubbling out like a spring upon the road. `
` `
` That was the story I got from him, bit by bit. He grew calmer `
` telling me and trying to make me see the things he had seen. He had `
` eaten no food since midday, he told me early in his narrative, and I `
` found some mutton and bread in the pantry and brought it into the `
` room. We lit no lamp for fear of attracting the Martians, and ever `
` and again our hands would touch upon bread or meat. As he talked, `
` things about us came darkly out of the darkness, and the trampled `
` bushes and broken rose trees outside the window grew distinct. It `
` would seem that a number of men or animals had rushed across the lawn. `
` I began to see his face, blackened and haggard, as no doubt mine was `
` also. `
` `
` When we had finished eating we went softly upstairs to my study, `
` and I looked again out of the open window. In one night the valley `
` had become a valley of ashes. The fires had dwindled now. Where `
` flames had been there were now streamers of smoke; but the countless `
` ruins of shattered and gutted houses and blasted and blackened trees `
` that the night had hidden stood out now gaunt and terrible in the `
` pitiless light of dawn. Yet here and there some object had had the `
` luck to escape--a white railway signal here, the end of a greenhouse `
` there, white and fresh amid the wreckage. Never before in the history `
` of warfare had destruction been so indiscriminate and so universal. `
` And shining with the growing light of the east, three of the metallic `
` giants stood about the pit, their cowls rotating as though they were `
` surveying the desolation they had made. `
` `
` It seemed to me that the pit had been enlarged, and ever and again `
` puffs of vivid green vapour streamed up and out of it towards the `
` brightening dawn--streamed up, whirled, broke, and vanished. `
` `
` Beyond were the pillars of fire about Chobham. They became pillars `
` of bloodshot smoke at the first touch of day. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER TWELVE `
` `
` WHAT I SAW OF THE DESTRUCTION OF WEYBRIDGE AND SHEPPERTON `
` `
` `
` As the dawn grew brighter we withdrew from the window from which we `
` had watched the Martians, and went very quietly downstairs. `
` `
` The artilleryman agreed with me that the house was no place to stay `
` in. He proposed, he said, to make his way Londonward, and thence `
` rejoin his battery--No. 12, of the Horse Artillery. My plan was to `
` return at once to Leatherhead; and so greatly had the strength of the `
` Martians impressed me that I had determined to take my wife to `
` Newhaven, and go with her out of the country forthwith. For I already `
` perceived clearly that the country about London must inevitably be the `
` scene of a disastrous struggle before such creatures as these could be `
` destroyed. `
` `
` Between us and Leatherhead, however, lay the third cylinder, with `
` its guarding giants. Had I been alone, I think I should have taken my `
` chance and struck across country. But the artilleryman dissuaded me: `
` "It's no kindness to the right sort of wife," he said, "to make her a `
` widow"; and in the end I agreed to go with him, under cover of the `
` woods, northward as far as Street Cobham before I parted with him. `
` Thence I would make a big detour by Epsom to reach Leatherhead. `
` `
` I should have started at once, but my companion had been in active `
` service and he knew better than that. He made me ransack the house `
` for a flask, which he filled with whiskey; and we lined every `
` available pocket with packets of biscuits and slices of meat. Then `
` we crept out of the house, and ran as quickly as we could down the `
` ill-made road by which I had come overnight. The houses seemed `
` deserted. In the road lay a group of three charred bodies close `
` together, struck dead by the Heat-Ray; and here and there were things `
` that people had dropped--a clock, a slipper, a silver spoon, and the `
` like poor valuables. At the corner turning up towards the post `
` office a little cart, filled with boxes and furniture, and horseless, `
` heeled over on a broken wheel. A cash box had been hastily smashed `
` open and thrown under the debris. `
` `
` Except the lodge at the Orphanage, which was still on fire, none of `
` the houses had suffered very greatly here. The Heat-Ray had shaved `
` the chimney tops and passed. Yet, save ourselves, there did not seem `
` to be a living soul on Maybury Hill. The majority of the inhabitants `
` had escaped, I suppose, by way of the Old Woking road--the road I had `
` taken when I drove to Leatherhead--or they had hidden. `
` `
` We went down the lane, by the body of the man in black, sodden now `
` from the overnight hail, and broke into the woods at the foot of the `
` hill. We pushed through these towards the railway without meeting a `
` soul. The woods across the line were but the scarred and blackened `
` ruins of woods; for the most part the trees had fallen, but a certain `
` proportion still stood, dismal grey stems, with dark brown foliage `
` instead of green. `
` `
` On our side the fire had done no more than scorch the nearer trees; `
` it had failed to secure its footing. In one place the woodmen had `
` been at work on Saturday; trees, felled and freshly trimmed, lay in a `
` clearing, with heaps of sawdust by the sawing-machine and its engine. `
` Hard by was a temporary hut, deserted. There was not a breath of wind `
` this morning, and everything was strangely still. Even the birds were `
` hushed, and as we hurried along I and the artilleryman talked in `
` whispers and looked now and again over our shoulders. Once or twice `
` we stopped to listen. `
` `
` After a time we drew near the road, and as we did so we heard the `
` clatter of hoofs and saw through the tree stems three cavalry soldiers `
` riding slowly towards Woking. We hailed them, and they halted while `
` we hurried towards them. It was a lieutenant and a couple of privates `
` of the 8th Hussars, with a stand like a theodolite, which the `
` artilleryman told me was a heliograph. `
` `
` "You are the first men I've seen coming this way this morning," `
` said the lieutenant. "What's brewing?" `
` `
` His voice and face were eager. The men behind him stared `
` curiously. The artilleryman jumped down the bank into the road and `
` saluted. `
` `
` "Gun destroyed last night, sir. Have been hiding. Trying to `
` rejoin battery, sir. You'll come in sight of the Martians, I expect, `
` about half a mile along this road." `
` `
` "What the dickens are they like?" asked the lieutenant. `
` `
` "Giants in armour, sir. Hundred feet high. Three legs and a body `
` like 'luminium, with a mighty great head in a hood, sir." `
` `
` "Get out!" said the lieutenant. "What confounded nonsense!" `
` `
` "You'll see, sir. They carry a kind of box, sir, that shoots fire `
` and strikes you dead." `
` `
` "What d'ye mean--a gun?" `
` `
` "No, sir," and the artilleryman began a vivid account of the Heat-Ray. `
` Halfway through, the lieutenant interrupted him and looked up at `
` me. I was still standing on the bank by the side of the road. `
` `
` "It's perfectly true," I said. `
` `
` "Well," said the lieutenant, "I suppose it's my business to see it `
` too. Look here"--to the artilleryman--"we're detailed here clearing `
` people out of their houses. You'd better go along and report yourself `
` to Brigadier-General Marvin, and tell him all you know. He's at `
` Weybridge. Know the way?" `
` `
` "I do," I said; and he turned his horse southward again. `
` `
` "Half a mile, you say?" said he. `
` `
` "At most," I answered, and pointed over the treetops southward. He `
` thanked me and rode on, and we saw them no more. `
` `
` Farther along we came upon a group of three women and two children `
` in the road, busy clearing out a labourer's cottage. They had `
` got hold of a little hand truck, and were piling it up with `
` unclean-looking bundles and shabby furniture. They were all too `
` assiduously engaged to talk to us as we passed. `
` `
` By Byfleet station we emerged from the pine trees, and found the `
` country calm and peaceful under the morning sunlight. We were far `
` beyond the range of the Heat-Ray there, and had it not been for the `
` silent desertion of some of the houses, the stirring movement of `
` packing in others, and the knot of soldiers standing on the bridge `
` over the railway and staring down the line towards Woking, the day `
` would have seemed very like any other Sunday. `
` `
` Several farm waggons and carts were moving creakily along the road `
` to Addlestone, and suddenly through the gate of a field we saw, across `
` a stretch of flat meadow, six twelve-pounders standing neatly at equal `
` distances pointing towards Woking. The gunners stood by the guns `
` waiting, and the ammunition waggons were at a business-like distance. `
` The men stood almost as if under inspection. `
` `
` "That's good!" said I. "They will get one fair shot, at any rate." `
` `
` The artilleryman hesitated at the gate. `
` `
` "I shall go on," he said. `
` `
` Farther on towards Weybridge, just over the bridge, there were a `
` number of men in white fatigue jackets throwing up a long rampart, and `
` more guns behind. `
` `
` "It's bows and arrows against the lightning, anyhow," said the `
` artilleryman. "They 'aven't seen that fire-beam yet." `
` `
` The officers who were not actively engaged stood and stared over `
` the treetops southwestward, and the men digging would stop every now `
` and again to stare in the same direction. `
` `
`