Reading Help War of the worlds by H. G. Wells. Book 1
It is still a matter of wonder how the Martians are able to slay `
` men so swiftly and so silently. Many think that in some way they are `
` able to generate an intense heat in a chamber of practically absolute `
` non-conductivity. This intense heat they project in a parallel beam `
` against any object they choose, by means of a polished parabolic `
` mirror of unknown composition, much as the parabolic mirror of a `
` lighthouse projects a beam of light. But no one has absolutely proved `
` these details. However it is done, it is certain that a beam of heat `
` is the essence of the matter. Heat, and invisible, instead of `
` visible, light. Whatever is combustible flashes into flame at its `
` touch, lead runs like water, it softens iron, cracks and melts glass, `
` and when it falls upon water, incontinently that explodes into steam. `
` `
` That night nearly forty people lay under the starlight about the `
` pit, charred and distorted beyond recognition, and all night long the `
` common from Horsell to Maybury was deserted and brightly ablaze. `
` `
` The news of the massacre probably reached Chobham, Woking, and `
` Ottershaw about the same time. In Woking the shops had closed when `
` the tragedy happened, and a number of people, shop people and so `
` forth, attracted by the stories they had heard, were walking over the `
` Horsell Bridge and along the road between the hedges that runs out at `
` last upon the common. You may imagine the young people brushed up `
` after the labours of the day, and making this novelty, as they would `
` make any novelty, the excuse for walking together and enjoying a `
` trivial flirtation. You may figure to yourself the hum of voices `
` along the road in the gloaming. . . . `
` `
` As yet, of course, few people in Woking even knew that the cylinder `
` had opened, though poor Henderson had sent a messenger on a bicycle to `
` the post office with a special wire to an evening paper. `
` `
` As these folks came out by twos and threes upon the open, they `
` found little knots of people talking excitedly and peering at the `
` spinning mirror over the sand pits, and the newcomers were, no doubt, `
` soon infected by the excitement of the occasion. `
` `
` By half past eight, when the Deputation was destroyed, there may `
` have been a crowd of three hundred people or more at this place, `
` besides those who had left the road to approach the Martians nearer. `
` There were three policemen too, one of whom was mounted, doing their `
` best, under instructions from Stent, to keep the people back and deter `
` them from approaching the cylinder. There was some booing from those `
` more thoughtless and excitable souls to whom a crowd is always an `
` occasion for noise and horse-play. `
` `
` Stent and Ogilvy, anticipating some possibilities of a collision, `
` had telegraphed from Horsell to the barracks as soon as the Martians `
` emerged, for the help of a company of soldiers to protect these `
` strange creatures from violence. After that they returned to lead that `
` ill-fated advance. The description of their death, as it was seen by `
` the crowd, tallies very closely with my own impressions: the three `
` puffs of green smoke, the deep humming note, and the flashes of flame. `
` `
` But that crowd of people had a far narrower escape than mine. Only `
` the fact that a hummock of heathery sand intercepted the lower part of `
` the Heat-Ray saved them. Had the elevation of the parabolic mirror `
` been a few yards higher, none could have lived to tell the tale. They `
` saw the flashes and the men falling and an invisible hand, as it were, `
` lit the bushes as it hurried towards them through the twilight. Then, `
` with a whistling note that rose above the droning of the pit, the beam `
` swung close over their heads, lighting the tops of the beech trees `
` that line the road, and splitting the bricks, smashing the windows, `
` firing the window frames, and bringing down in crumbling ruin a `
` portion of the gable of the house nearest the corner. `
` `
` In the sudden thud, hiss, and glare of the igniting trees, the `
` panic-stricken crowd seems to have swayed hesitatingly for some `
` moments. Sparks and burning twigs began to fall into the road, and `
` single leaves like puffs of flame. Hats and dresses caught fire. Then `
` came a crying from the common. There were shrieks and shouts, and `
` suddenly a mounted policeman came galloping through the confusion with `
` his hands clasped over his head, screaming. `
` `
` "They're coming!" a woman shrieked, and incontinently everyone was `
` turning and pushing at those behind, in order to clear their way to `
` Woking again. They must have bolted as blindly as a flock of sheep. `
` Where the road grows narrow and black between the high banks the crowd `
` jammed, and a desperate struggle occurred. All that crowd did not `
` escape; three persons at least, two women and a little boy, were `
` crushed and trampled there, and left to die amid the terror and the `
` darkness. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER SEVEN `
` `
` HOW I REACHED HOME `
` `
` `
` For my own part, I remember nothing of my flight except the stress `
` of blundering against trees and stumbling through the heather. All `
` about me gathered the invisible terrors of the Martians; that pitiless `
` sword of heat seemed whirling to and fro, flourishing overhead before `
` it descended and smote me out of life. I came into the road between `
` the crossroads and Horsell, and ran along this to the crossroads. `
` `
` At last I could go no further; I was exhausted with the violence of `
` my emotion and of my flight, and I staggered and fell by the wayside. `
` That was near the bridge that crosses the canal by the gasworks. I `
` fell and lay still. `
` `
` I must have remained there some time. `
` `
` I sat up, strangely perplexed. For a moment, perhaps, I could not `
` clearly understand how I came there. My terror had fallen from me `
` like a garment. My hat had gone, and my collar had burst away from `
` its fastener. A few minutes before, there had only been three real `
` things before me--the immensity of the night and space and nature, my `
` own feebleness and anguish, and the near approach of death. Now it `
` was as if something turned over, and the point of view altered `
` abruptly. There was no sensible transition from one state of mind to `
` the other. I was immediately the self of every day again--a decent, `
` ordinary citizen. The silent common, the impulse of my flight, the `
` starting flames, were as if they had been in a dream. I asked myself `
` had these latter things indeed happened? I could not credit it. `
` `
` I rose and walked unsteadily up the steep incline of the bridge. My `
` mind was blank wonder. My muscles and nerves seemed drained of their `
` strength. I dare say I staggered drunkenly. A head rose over the `
` arch, and the figure of a workman carrying a basket appeared. Beside `
` him ran a little boy. He passed me, wishing me good night. I was `
` minded to speak to him, but did not. I answered his greeting with a `
` meaningless mumble and went on over the bridge. `
` `
` Over the Maybury arch a train, a billowing tumult of white, firelit `
` smoke, and a long caterpillar of lighted windows, went flying `
` south--clatter, clatter, clap, rap, and it had gone. A dim group of `
` people talked in the gate of one of the houses in the pretty little `
` row of gables that was called Oriental Terrace. It was all so real `
` and so familiar. And that behind me! It was frantic, fantastic! `
` Such things, I told myself, could not be. `
` `
` Perhaps I am a man of exceptional moods. I do not know how far my `
` experience is common. At times I suffer from the strangest sense of `
` detachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all `
` from the outside, from somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time, `
` out of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all. This feeling `
` was very strong upon me that night. Here was another side to my `
` dream. `
` `
` But the trouble was the blank incongruity of this serenity and the `
` swift death flying yonder, not two miles away. There was a noise of `
` business from the gasworks, and the electric lamps were all alight. I `
` stopped at the group of people. `
` `
` "What news from the common?" said I. `
` `
` There were two men and a woman at the gate. `
` `
` "Eh?" said one of the men, turning. `
` `
` "What news from the common?" I said. `
` `
` "'Ain't yer just _been_ there?" asked the men. `
` `
` "People seem fair silly about the common," said the woman over the `
` gate. "What's it all abart?" `
` `
` "Haven't you heard of the men from Mars?" said I; "the creatures `
` from Mars?" `
` `
` "Quite enough," said the woman over the gate. "Thenks"; and all `
` three of them laughed. `
` `
` I felt foolish and angry. I tried and found I could not tell them `
` what I had seen. They laughed again at my broken sentences. `
` `
` "You'll hear more yet," I said, and went on to my home. `
` `
` I startled my wife at the doorway, so haggard was I. I went into `
` the dining room, sat down, drank some wine, and so soon as I could `
` collect myself sufficiently I told her the things I had seen. The `
` dinner, which was a cold one, had already been served, and remained `
` neglected on the table while I told my story. `
` `
` "There is one thing," I said, to allay the fears I had aroused; `
` "they are the most sluggish things I ever saw crawl. They may keep `
` the pit and kill people who come near them, but they cannot get out `
` of it. . . . But the horror of them!" `
` `
` "Don't, dear!" said my wife, knitting her brows and putting her `
` hand on mine. `
` `
` "Poor Ogilvy!" I said. "To think he may be lying dead there!" `
` `
` My wife at least did not find my experience incredible. When I saw `
` how deadly white her face was, I ceased abruptly. `
` `
` "They may come here," she said again and again. `
` `
` I pressed her to take wine, and tried to reassure her. `
` `
` "They can scarcely move," I said. `
` `
` I began to comfort her and myself by repeating all that Ogilvy had `
` told me of the impossibility of the Martians establishing themselves `
` on the earth. In particular I laid stress on the gravitational `
` difficulty. On the surface of the earth the force of gravity is three `
` times what it is on the surface of Mars. A Martian, therefore, would `
` weigh three times more than on Mars, albeit his muscular strength `
`
` men so swiftly and so silently. Many think that in some way they are `
` able to generate an intense heat in a chamber of practically absolute `
` non-conductivity. This intense heat they project in a parallel beam `
` against any object they choose, by means of a polished parabolic `
` mirror of unknown composition, much as the parabolic mirror of a `
` lighthouse projects a beam of light. But no one has absolutely proved `
` these details. However it is done, it is certain that a beam of heat `
` is the essence of the matter. Heat, and invisible, instead of `
` visible, light. Whatever is combustible flashes into flame at its `
` touch, lead runs like water, it softens iron, cracks and melts glass, `
` and when it falls upon water, incontinently that explodes into steam. `
` `
` That night nearly forty people lay under the starlight about the `
` pit, charred and distorted beyond recognition, and all night long the `
` common from Horsell to Maybury was deserted and brightly ablaze. `
` `
` The news of the massacre probably reached Chobham, Woking, and `
` Ottershaw about the same time. In Woking the shops had closed when `
` the tragedy happened, and a number of people, shop people and so `
` forth, attracted by the stories they had heard, were walking over the `
` Horsell Bridge and along the road between the hedges that runs out at `
` last upon the common. You may imagine the young people brushed up `
` after the labours of the day, and making this novelty, as they would `
` make any novelty, the excuse for walking together and enjoying a `
` trivial flirtation. You may figure to yourself the hum of voices `
` along the road in the gloaming. . . . `
` `
` As yet, of course, few people in Woking even knew that the cylinder `
` had opened, though poor Henderson had sent a messenger on a bicycle to `
` the post office with a special wire to an evening paper. `
` `
` As these folks came out by twos and threes upon the open, they `
` found little knots of people talking excitedly and peering at the `
` spinning mirror over the sand pits, and the newcomers were, no doubt, `
` soon infected by the excitement of the occasion. `
` `
` By half past eight, when the Deputation was destroyed, there may `
` have been a crowd of three hundred people or more at this place, `
` besides those who had left the road to approach the Martians nearer. `
` There were three policemen too, one of whom was mounted, doing their `
` best, under instructions from Stent, to keep the people back and deter `
` them from approaching the cylinder. There was some booing from those `
` more thoughtless and excitable souls to whom a crowd is always an `
` occasion for noise and horse-play. `
` `
` Stent and Ogilvy, anticipating some possibilities of a collision, `
` had telegraphed from Horsell to the barracks as soon as the Martians `
` emerged, for the help of a company of soldiers to protect these `
` strange creatures from violence. After that they returned to lead that `
` ill-fated advance. The description of their death, as it was seen by `
` the crowd, tallies very closely with my own impressions: the three `
` puffs of green smoke, the deep humming note, and the flashes of flame. `
` `
` But that crowd of people had a far narrower escape than mine. Only `
` the fact that a hummock of heathery sand intercepted the lower part of `
` the Heat-Ray saved them. Had the elevation of the parabolic mirror `
` been a few yards higher, none could have lived to tell the tale. They `
` saw the flashes and the men falling and an invisible hand, as it were, `
` lit the bushes as it hurried towards them through the twilight. Then, `
` with a whistling note that rose above the droning of the pit, the beam `
` swung close over their heads, lighting the tops of the beech trees `
` that line the road, and splitting the bricks, smashing the windows, `
` firing the window frames, and bringing down in crumbling ruin a `
` portion of the gable of the house nearest the corner. `
` `
` In the sudden thud, hiss, and glare of the igniting trees, the `
` panic-stricken crowd seems to have swayed hesitatingly for some `
` moments. Sparks and burning twigs began to fall into the road, and `
` single leaves like puffs of flame. Hats and dresses caught fire. Then `
` came a crying from the common. There were shrieks and shouts, and `
` suddenly a mounted policeman came galloping through the confusion with `
` his hands clasped over his head, screaming. `
` `
` "They're coming!" a woman shrieked, and incontinently everyone was `
` turning and pushing at those behind, in order to clear their way to `
` Woking again. They must have bolted as blindly as a flock of sheep. `
` Where the road grows narrow and black between the high banks the crowd `
` jammed, and a desperate struggle occurred. All that crowd did not `
` escape; three persons at least, two women and a little boy, were `
` crushed and trampled there, and left to die amid the terror and the `
` darkness. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER SEVEN `
` `
` HOW I REACHED HOME `
` `
` `
` For my own part, I remember nothing of my flight except the stress `
` of blundering against trees and stumbling through the heather. All `
` about me gathered the invisible terrors of the Martians; that pitiless `
` sword of heat seemed whirling to and fro, flourishing overhead before `
` it descended and smote me out of life. I came into the road between `
` the crossroads and Horsell, and ran along this to the crossroads. `
` `
` At last I could go no further; I was exhausted with the violence of `
` my emotion and of my flight, and I staggered and fell by the wayside. `
` That was near the bridge that crosses the canal by the gasworks. I `
` fell and lay still. `
` `
` I must have remained there some time. `
` `
` I sat up, strangely perplexed. For a moment, perhaps, I could not `
` clearly understand how I came there. My terror had fallen from me `
` like a garment. My hat had gone, and my collar had burst away from `
` its fastener. A few minutes before, there had only been three real `
` things before me--the immensity of the night and space and nature, my `
` own feebleness and anguish, and the near approach of death. Now it `
` was as if something turned over, and the point of view altered `
` abruptly. There was no sensible transition from one state of mind to `
` the other. I was immediately the self of every day again--a decent, `
` ordinary citizen. The silent common, the impulse of my flight, the `
` starting flames, were as if they had been in a dream. I asked myself `
` had these latter things indeed happened? I could not credit it. `
` `
` I rose and walked unsteadily up the steep incline of the bridge. My `
` mind was blank wonder. My muscles and nerves seemed drained of their `
` strength. I dare say I staggered drunkenly. A head rose over the `
` arch, and the figure of a workman carrying a basket appeared. Beside `
` him ran a little boy. He passed me, wishing me good night. I was `
` minded to speak to him, but did not. I answered his greeting with a `
` meaningless mumble and went on over the bridge. `
` `
` Over the Maybury arch a train, a billowing tumult of white, firelit `
` smoke, and a long caterpillar of lighted windows, went flying `
` south--clatter, clatter, clap, rap, and it had gone. A dim group of `
` people talked in the gate of one of the houses in the pretty little `
` row of gables that was called Oriental Terrace. It was all so real `
` and so familiar. And that behind me! It was frantic, fantastic! `
` Such things, I told myself, could not be. `
` `
` Perhaps I am a man of exceptional moods. I do not know how far my `
` experience is common. At times I suffer from the strangest sense of `
` detachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all `
` from the outside, from somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time, `
` out of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all. This feeling `
` was very strong upon me that night. Here was another side to my `
` dream. `
` `
` But the trouble was the blank incongruity of this serenity and the `
` swift death flying yonder, not two miles away. There was a noise of `
` business from the gasworks, and the electric lamps were all alight. I `
` stopped at the group of people. `
` `
` "What news from the common?" said I. `
` `
` There were two men and a woman at the gate. `
` `
` "Eh?" said one of the men, turning. `
` `
` "What news from the common?" I said. `
` `
` "'Ain't yer just _been_ there?" asked the men. `
` `
` "People seem fair silly about the common," said the woman over the `
` gate. "What's it all abart?" `
` `
` "Haven't you heard of the men from Mars?" said I; "the creatures `
` from Mars?" `
` `
` "Quite enough," said the woman over the gate. "Thenks"; and all `
` three of them laughed. `
` `
` I felt foolish and angry. I tried and found I could not tell them `
` what I had seen. They laughed again at my broken sentences. `
` `
` "You'll hear more yet," I said, and went on to my home. `
` `
` I startled my wife at the doorway, so haggard was I. I went into `
` the dining room, sat down, drank some wine, and so soon as I could `
` collect myself sufficiently I told her the things I had seen. The `
` dinner, which was a cold one, had already been served, and remained `
` neglected on the table while I told my story. `
` `
` "There is one thing," I said, to allay the fears I had aroused; `
` "they are the most sluggish things I ever saw crawl. They may keep `
` the pit and kill people who come near them, but they cannot get out `
` of it. . . . But the horror of them!" `
` `
` "Don't, dear!" said my wife, knitting her brows and putting her `
` hand on mine. `
` `
` "Poor Ogilvy!" I said. "To think he may be lying dead there!" `
` `
` My wife at least did not find my experience incredible. When I saw `
` how deadly white her face was, I ceased abruptly. `
` `
` "They may come here," she said again and again. `
` `
` I pressed her to take wine, and tried to reassure her. `
` `
` "They can scarcely move," I said. `
` `
` I began to comfort her and myself by repeating all that Ogilvy had `
` told me of the impossibility of the Martians establishing themselves `
` on the earth. In particular I laid stress on the gravitational `
` difficulty. On the surface of the earth the force of gravity is three `
` times what it is on the surface of Mars. A Martian, therefore, would `
` weigh three times more than on Mars, albeit his muscular strength `
`