Chapter 21

Mr. Bedford at Littlestone

21 min

My line of flight was about parallel with the surface as I came into the upper air. The temperature of the sphere began to rise forthwith. I knew it behoved me to drop at once. Far below me, in a darkling twilight, stretched a great expanse of sea. I opened every window I could, and fell—out of sunshine into evening, and out of evening into night. Vaster grew the earth and vaster, swallowing up the stars, and the silvery translucent starlit veil of cloud it wore spread out to catch me. At last the world seemed no longer a sphere but flat, and then concave. It was no longer a planet in the sky, but the world of Man. I shut all but an inch or so of earthward window, and dropped with a slackening velocity. The broadening water, now so near that I could see the dark glitter of the waves, rushed up to meet me. The sphere became very hot. I snapped the last strip of window, and sat scowling and biting my knuckles, waiting for the impact....

As I entered the upper air, I was flying almost parallel to the surface. The sphere’s temperature began to rise immediately. I knew I had to descend at once. Far below me, a vast expanse of sea stretched out in the darkening twilight. I opened every window I could and fell, out of sunshine into evening, and out of evening into night. The earth grew larger and larger, swallowing up the stars. Its silvery, translucent veil of starlit cloud spread out to catch me. At last the world no longer seemed like a sphere, but flat, and then curved inward. It was no longer a planet in the sky, but the world of Man. I closed the window facing the earth, leaving it open only an inch or so. My descent began to slow. The water spread out beneath me, now close enough for me to see the dark glitter of the waves. It rushed up to meet me. The sphere became very hot. I snapped the last strip of window shut and sat scowling and biting my knuckles, waiting for the impact....

The sphere hit the water with a huge splash: it must have sent it fathoms high. At the splash I flung the Cavorite shutters open. Down I went, but slower and slower, and then I felt the sphere pressing against my feet, and so drove up again as a bubble drives. And at the last I was floating and rocking upon the surface of the sea, and my journey in space was at an end.

The sphere hit the water with a huge splash. It must have sent the water many feet into the air. At the splash, I flung the Cavorite shutters open. I went down, but more and more slowly. Then I felt the sphere pressing against my feet, and I rose again like a bubble. At last, I was floating and rocking on the surface of the sea. My journey through space was over.

The night was dark and overcast. Two yellow pinpoints far away showed the passing of a ship, and nearer was a red glare that came and went. Had not the electricity of my glow-lamp exhausted itself, I could have got picked up that night. In spite of the inordinate fatigue I was beginning to feel, I was excited now, and for a time hopeful, in a feverish, impatient way, that so my travelling might end.

The night was dark and overcast. Two tiny yellow lights far away showed that a ship was passing. Closer by, a red glow appeared and disappeared. If my glow-lamp’s electricity had not run out, I could have been picked up that night. Despite the extreme fatigue I was beginning to feel, I was excited now. For a while, I was feverishly, impatiently hopeful that my travels might end this way.

But at last I ceased to move about, and sat, wrists on knees, staring at a distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My excitement passed. I realised I had yet to spend another night at least in the sphere. I perceived myself infinitely heavy and fatigued. And so I fell asleep.

But at last I stopped moving around and sat with my wrists on my knees, staring at a distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My excitement faded. I realized I still had to spend at least one more night in the sphere. I felt infinitely heavy and tired. And so I fell asleep.

A change in my rhythmic motion awakened me. I peered through the refracting glass, and saw that I had come aground upon a huge shallow of sand. Far away I seemed to see houses and trees, and seaward a curved, vague distortion of a ship hung between sea and sky.

A change in my rhythmic movement woke me. I looked through the refracting glass and saw that I had run aground on a vast sandbank. Far away, I seemed to see houses and trees. Out at sea, the curved, blurred shape of a ship hung between the sea and the sky.

I stood up and staggered. My one desire was to emerge. The manhole was upward, and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly I opened the manhole. At last the air was singing in again as once it had sung out. But this time I did not wait until the pressure was adjusted. In another moment I had the weight of the window on my hands, and I was open, wide open, to the old familiar sky of earth.

I stood up and staggered. All I wanted was to get out. The manhole was above me, and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly, I opened it. At last, the air sang as it rushed in, just as it had sung when it rushed out. But this time I did not wait for the pressure to equalize. A moment later, I had the weight of the window on my hands. I was open, wide open, to the old familiar sky of Earth.

The air hit me on the chest so that I gasped. I dropped the glass screw. I cried out, put my hands to my chest, and sat down. For a time I was in pain. Then I took deep breaths. At last I could rise and move about again.

The air hit my chest and made me gasp. I dropped the glass screw. I cried out, put my hands on my chest, and sat down. I was in pain for a while. Then I took deep breaths. Finally, I could get up and move around again.

I tried to thrust my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled over. It was as though something had lugged my head down directly it emerged. I ducked back sharply, or I should have been pinned face under water. After some wriggling and shoving I managed to crawl out upon sand, over which the retreating waves still came and went.

I tried to push my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled over. It was as if something had pulled my head down as soon as it came out. I quickly ducked back, or I would have been pinned face down underwater. After some wriggling and pushing, I managed to crawl out onto the sand. The waves were retreating but still washed back and forth over it.

I did not attempt to stand up. It seemed to me that my body must be suddenly changed to lead. Mother Earth had her grip on me now—no Cavorite intervening. I sat down heedless of the water that came over my feet.

I did not try to stand up. It felt as if my body had suddenly turned to lead. Mother Earth had me in her grip now, with no Cavorite in between. I sat down, paying no attention to the water that covered my feet.

It was dawn, a grey dawn, rather overcast but showing here and there a long patch of greenish grey. Some way out a ship was lying at anchor, a pale silhouette of a ship with one yellow light. The water came rippling in in long shallow waves. Away to the right curved the land, a shingle bank with little hovels, and at last a lighthouse, a sailing mark and a point. Inland stretched a space of level sand, broken here and there by pools of water, and ending a mile away perhaps in a low shore of scrub. To the north-east some isolated watering-place was visible, a row of gaunt lodging-houses, the tallest things that I could see on earth, dull dabs against the brightening sky. What strange men can have reared these vertical piles in such an amplitude of space I do not know. There they are, like pieces of Brighton lost in the waste.

It was dawn, grey and rather overcast, but with long patches of greenish grey showing here and there. Some distance out, a ship lay at anchor, a pale silhouette with one yellow light. The water rippled in through long, shallow waves. To the right, the land curved away. There was a bank of pebbles with little shacks, and finally a lighthouse, a navigation marker, and a point of land. Inland stretched a flat expanse of sand, broken here and there by pools of water. Perhaps a mile away, it ended at a low shore covered in scrub. To the northeast, I could see an isolated seaside resort, a row of bleak lodging houses. They were the tallest things I could see on earth, dull patches against the brightening sky. I do not know what strange men could have built these towering structures in so vast an open space. There they stand, like pieces of Brighton lost in the wilderness.

For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. At last I struggled to rise. It made me feel that I was lifting a weight. I stood up.

For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. Finally, I struggled to get up. It felt like I was lifting a weight. I stood up.

I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since our starvation in the crater I thought of earthly food. “Bacon,” I whispered, “eggs. Good toast and good coffee.... And how the devil am I going to get all this stuff to Lympne?” I wondered where I was. It was an east shore anyhow, and I had seen Europe before I dropped.

I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since we had starved in the crater, I thought of food from Earth. “Bacon,” I whispered, “eggs. Good toast and good coffee.... And how the devil am I going to get all this stuff to Lympne?” I wondered where I was. It was an east coast, anyway, and I had seen Europe before I came down.

I heard footsteps crunching in the sand, and a little round-faced, friendly-looking man in flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped about his shoulders, and his bathing dress over his arm, appeared up the beach. I knew instantly that I must be in England. He was staring most intently at the sphere and me. He advanced staring. I dare say I looked a ferocious savage enough—dirty, unkempt, to an indescribable degree; but it did not occur to me at the time. He stopped at a distance of twenty yards. “Hul-lo, my man!” he said doubtfully.

I heard footsteps crunching in the sand. A small, round-faced, friendly-looking man appeared on the beach. He wore flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped around his shoulders and his swimsuit over his arm. I knew instantly that I must be in England. He was staring intently at the sphere and me. He came closer, still staring. I suppose I looked like a fierce savage, dirty and unkempt beyond description. But that did not occur to me at the time. He stopped twenty yards away. “Hello, my man!” he said uncertainly.

“Hullo yourself!” said I.

“Hello yourself!” I said.

He advanced, reassured by that. “What on earth is that thing?” he asked.

Reassured by that, he moved forward. “What on earth is that thing?” he asked.

“Can you tell me where I am?” I asked.

“That’s Littlestone,” he said, pointing to the houses; “and that’s Dungeness! Have you just landed? What’s that thing you’ve got? Some sort of machine?”

“That’s Littlestone,” he said, pointing to the houses. “And that’s Dungeness! Have you just landed? What’s that thing you’ve got? Some kind of machine?”

“Yes.”

“Have you floated ashore? Have you been wrecked or something? What is it?”

“Did you float ashore? Were you shipwrecked or something? What happened?”

I meditated swiftly. I made an estimate of the little man’s appearance as he drew nearer. “By Jove!” he said, “you’ve had a time of it! I thought you— Well— Where were you cast away? Is that thing a sort of floating thing for saving life?”

I thought quickly. As the little man came closer, I sized up his appearance. “Goodness!” he said, “you’ve been through a lot! I thought you... Well... Where were you shipwrecked? Is that some kind of life-saving float?”

I decided to take that line for the present. I made a few vague affirmatives. “I want help,” I said hoarsely. “I want to get some stuff up the beach—stuff I can’t very well leave about.” I became aware of three other pleasant-looking young men with towels, blazers, and straw hats, coming down the sands towards me. Evidently the early bathing section of this Littlestone.

I decided to go along with that for now. I gave a few vague nods. “I need help,” I said hoarsely. “I need to get some stuff up the beach. I can’t very well leave it lying around.” I noticed three other pleasant-looking young men coming toward me across the sand. They carried towels and wore blazers and straw hats. They were evidently Littlestone’s early bathers.

“Help!” said the young man: “rather!” He became vaguely active. “What particularly do you want done?” He turned round and gesticulated. The three young men accelerated their pace. In a minute they were about me, plying me with questions I was indisposed to answer. “I’ll tell all that later,” I said. “I’m dead beat. I’m a rag.”

“Help!” said the young man. “Of course!” He began to move about uncertainly. “What exactly do you want me to do?” He turned around and waved his arms. The three young men quickened their pace. Within a minute, they were around me, asking questions I didn’t feel like answering. “I’ll tell you everything later,” I said. “I’m exhausted. I’m worn out.”

“Come up to the hotel,” said the foremost little man. “We’ll look after that thing there.”

“Come up to the hotel,” said the little man in front. “We’ll take care of that thing there.”

I hesitated. “I can’t,” I said. “In that sphere there’s two big bars of gold.”

I hesitated. “I can’t,” I said. “There are two big bars of gold in that sphere.”

They looked incredulously at one another, then at me with a new inquiry. I went to the sphere, stooped, crept in, and presently they had the Selenites’ crowbars and the broken chain before them. If I had not been so horribly fagged I could have laughed at them. It was like kittens round a beetle. They didn’t know what to do with the stuff. The fat little man stooped and lifted the end of one of the bars, and then dropped it with a grunt. Then they all did.

They looked at one another in disbelief, then looked at me with fresh curiosity. I went to the sphere, bent down, and crawled inside. Soon I had brought them the Selenites’ crowbars and the broken chain. If I hadn’t been so horribly exhausted, I could have laughed at them. They were like kittens gathered around a beetle. They didn’t know what to do with the stuff. The fat little man bent down and lifted the end of one bar. Then he dropped it with a grunt. Then they all did the same.

“It’s lead, or gold!” said one.

“It’s lead or gold!” said one.

“Oh, it’s gold!” said another.

“Gold, right enough,” said the third.

“Gold, all right,” said the third.

Then they all stared at me, and then they all stared at the ship lying at anchor.

Then they all stared at me. Then they all stared at the ship anchored nearby.

“I say!” cried the little man. “But where did you get that?”

“Hey!” cried the little man. “But where did you get that?”

I was too tired to keep up a lie. “I got it in the moon.”

I saw them stare at one another.

I saw them stare at each other.

“Look here!” said I, “I’m not going to argue now. Help me carry these lumps of gold up to the hotel—I guess, with rests, two of you can manage one, and I’ll trail this chain thing—and I’ll tell you more when I’ve had some food.”

“Look here!” I said. “I’m not going to argue now. Help me carry these lumps of gold up to the hotel. I think two of you can manage one lump if you take breaks, and I’ll drag this chain thing. I’ll tell you more after I’ve had some food.”

“And how about that thing?”

“It won’t hurt there,” I said. “Anyhow—confound it!—it must stop there now. If the tide comes up, it will float all right.”

“It won’t do any harm there,” I said. “Anyway, damn it! It has to stay there now. If the tide comes in, it will float just fine.”

And in a state of enormous wonderment, these young men most obediently hoisted my treasures on their shoulders, and with limbs that felt like lead I headed a sort of procession towards that distant fragment of “sea-front.” Half-way there we were reinforced by two awe-stricken little girls with spades, and later a lean little boy, with a penetrating sniff, appeared. He was, I remember, wheeling a bicycle, and he accompanied us at a distance of about a hundred yards on our right flank, and then I suppose, gave us up as uninteresting, mounted his bicycle and rode off over the level sands in the direction of the sphere.

The young men were filled with wonder and obediently lifted my treasures onto their shoulders. My limbs felt like lead as I led a sort of procession toward that distant stretch of “sea-front.” Halfway there, two awestruck little girls with spades joined us. Later, a skinny little boy appeared, sniffing loudly. I remember that he was wheeling a bicycle. He followed us about a hundred yards to our right. Then, I suppose, he decided we were uninteresting. He got on his bicycle and rode across the flat sands toward the sphere.

I glanced back after him.

I glanced back at him as he went.

“He won’t touch it,” said the stout young man reassuringly, and I was only too willing to be reassured.

“He won’t touch it,” the stout young man said reassuringly, and I was more than willing to believe him.

At first something of the grey of the morning was in my mind, but presently the sun disengaged itself from the level clouds of the horizon and lit the world, and turned the leaden sea to glittering waters. My spirits rose. A sense of the vast importance of the things I had done and had yet to do came with the sunlight into my mind. I laughed aloud as the foremost man staggered under my gold. When indeed I took my place in the world, how amazed the world would be!

At first, my mood was as grey as the morning. But soon the sun emerged from the flat clouds on the horizon and lit up the world. The leaden sea turned to glittering water. My spirits rose. With the sunlight came a sense of the vast importance of what I had done and still had to do. I laughed aloud as the man in front staggered under the weight of my gold. When I finally took my place in the world, how amazed everyone would be!

If it had not been for my inordinate fatigue, the landlord of the Littlestone hotel would have been amusing, as he hesitated between my gold and my respectable company on the one and my filthy appearance on the other. But at last I found myself in a terrestrial bathroom once more with warm water to wash myself with, and a change of raiment, preposterously small indeed, but anyhow clean, that the genial little man had lent me. He lent me a razor too, but I could not screw up my resolution to attack even the outposts of the bristling beard that covered my face.

If I had not been so exhausted, the landlord of the Littlestone hotel would have amused me. He hesitated between the appeal of my gold and respectable company and my filthy appearance. But at last I found myself in a bathroom on Earth once more, with warm water to wash in. The friendly little man had lent me a change of clothes. They were ridiculously small, but at least they were clean. He lent me a razor too, but I could not summon the resolve to tackle even the edges of the bristling beard that covered my face.

I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a sort of languid appetite—an appetite many weeks old and very decrepit—and stirred myself to answer the questions of the four young men. And I told them the truth.

I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a weak appetite. It was an appetite many weeks old and very worn out. I made an effort to answer the four young men’s questions. And I told them the truth.

“Well,” said I, “as you press me—I got it in the moon.”

“Well,” I said, “since you insist, I got it in the moon.”

“The moon?”

“Yes, the moon in the sky.”

“But how do you mean?”

“But what do you mean?”

“What I say, confound it!”

“What I’m saying, damn it!”

“Then you have just come from the moon?”

“So you just came from the moon?”

“Exactly! through space—in that ball.” And I took a delicious mouthful of egg. I made a private note that when I went back to the moon I would take a box of eggs.

“Exactly! Through space, in that ball.” I took a delicious bite of egg. I made a mental note to take a box of eggs when I went back to the moon.

I could see clearly that they did not believe one word of what I told them, but evidently they considered me the most respectable liar they had ever met. They glanced at one another, and then concentrated the fire of their eyes on me. I fancy they expected a clue to me in the way I helped myself to salt. They seemed to find something significant in my peppering my egg. These strangely shaped masses of gold they had staggered under held their minds. There the lumps lay in front of me, each worth thousands of pounds, and as impossible for any one to steal as a house or a piece of land. As I looked at their curious faces over my coffee-cup, I realised something of the enormous wilderness of explanations into which I should have to wander to render myself comprehensible again.

I could see clearly that they did not believe a word I told them. But they evidently thought I was the most respectable liar they had ever met. They glanced at one another, then fixed their eyes on me. I imagine they expected to find a clue to my character in the way I helped myself to salt. They seemed to find something significant in the way I put pepper on my egg. They could not stop thinking about the strangely shaped masses of gold they had staggered under. The lumps lay in front of me, each worth thousands of pounds. Each was as impossible to steal as a house or a piece of land. As I looked at their curious faces over my coffee cup, I realized how much I would have to explain before they could understand me again.

“You don’t really mean—” began the youngest young man, in the tone of one who speaks to an obstinate child.

“You don’t really mean...” began the youngest man, speaking as if to a stubborn child.

“Just pass me that toast-rack,” I said, and shut him up completely.

“Just pass me that toast rack,” I said, and that shut him up completely.

“But look here, I say,” began one of the others. “We’re not going to believe that, you know.”

“But wait a minute,” one of the others began. “We’re not going to believe that, you know.”

“Ah, well,” said I, and shrugged my shoulders.

“Ah, well,” I said, and shrugged my shoulders.

“He doesn’t want to tell us,” said the youngest young man in a stage aside; and then, with an appearance of great sang-froid, “You don’t mind if I take a cigarette?”

“He doesn’t want to tell us,” the youngest young man said in a theatrical aside. Then, appearing perfectly calm, he said, “Do you mind if I take a cigarette?”

I waved him a cordial assent, and proceeded with my breakfast. Two of the others went and looked out of the farther window and talked inaudibly. I was struck by a thought. “The tide,” I said, “is running out?”

I waved to him in friendly agreement and went on with my breakfast. Two of the others went to the farther window and looked out. They talked too quietly for me to hear. A thought struck me. “The tide,” I said, “is going out?”

There was a pause, a doubt who should answer me.

There was a pause as they hesitated over who should answer me.

“It’s near the ebb,” said the fat little man.

“It’s nearly low tide,” said the fat little man.

“Well, anyhow,” I said, “it won’t float far.”

“Well, anyway,” I said, “it won’t float far.”

I decapitated my third egg, and began a little speech. “Look here,” I said. “Please don’t imagine I’m surly or telling you uncivil lies, or anything of that sort. I’m forced almost, to be a little short and mysterious. I can quite understand this is as queer as it can be, and that your imaginations must be going it. I can assure you, you’re in at a memorable time. But I can’t make it clear to you now—it’s impossible. I give you my word of honour I’ve come from the moon, and that’s all I can tell you.... All the same, I’m tremendously obliged to you, you know, tremendously. I hope that my manner hasn’t in any way given you offence.”

I cut the top off my third egg and began a little speech. “Look,” I said. “Please don’t think I’m being rude or telling you impolite lies, or anything like that. I’m almost forced to be brief and mysterious. I can understand how strange all this must seem, and how your imaginations must be running wild. I can assure you, you’re here at a memorable time. But I can’t explain it to you now. It’s impossible. I give you my word of honor that I’ve come from the moon, and that’s all I can tell you.... All the same, I’m tremendously grateful to you, you know, tremendously. I hope my manner hasn’t offended you in any way.”

“Oh, not in the least!” said the youngest young man affably. “We can quite understand,” and staring hard at me all the time, he heeled his chair back until it very nearly upset, and recovered with some exertion. “Not a bit of it,” said the fat young man.

“Oh, not at all!” said the youngest man cheerfully. “We understand perfectly.” He stared hard at me the whole time. He leaned back in his chair until it nearly tipped over, then struggled to right himself. “Not at all,” said the fat young man.

“Don’t you imagine that!” and they all got up and dispersed, and walked about and lit cigarettes, and generally tried to show they were perfectly amiable and disengaged, and entirely free from the slightest curiosity about me and the sphere. “I’m going to keep an eye on that ship out there all the same,” I heard one of them remarking in an undertone. If only they could have forced themselves to it, they would, I believe, even have gone out and left me. I went on with my third egg.

“Don’t imagine that!” They all got up and went their separate ways. They walked around and lit cigarettes. They tried to show that they were perfectly friendly and had nothing to do. They also tried to show that they weren’t the slightest bit curious about me or the sphere. “I’m going to keep an eye on that ship out there all the same,” I heard one of them say quietly. If they could have brought themselves to do it, I believe they would even have gone out and left me. I went on eating my third egg.

“The weather,” the fat little man remarked presently, “has been immense, has it not? I don’t know when we have had such a summer.”

“The weather,” the fat little man said after a while, “has been wonderful, hasn’t it? I don’t know when we’ve had such a summer.”

Phoo-whizz! Like a tremendous rocket!

Whoosh! Like a huge rocket!

And somewhere a window was broken....

“What’s that?” said I.

“What’s that?” I said.

“It isn’t—?” cried the little man, and rushed to the corner window.

“It isn’t...?” cried the little man, and rushed to the corner window.

All the others rushed to the window likewise. I sat staring at them.

All the others rushed to the window too. I sat staring at them.

Suddenly I leapt up, knocked over my third egg, rushed for the window also. I had just thought of something. “Nothing to be seen there,” cried the little man, rushing for the door.

Suddenly I jumped up, knocked over my third egg, and rushed to the window too. I had just thought of something. “Nothing to see there,” the little man cried, rushing to the door.

“It’s that boy!” I cried, bawling in hoarse fury; “it’s that accursed boy!” and turning about I pushed the waiter aside—he was just bringing me some more toast—and rushed violently out of the room and down and out upon the queer little esplanade in front of the hotel.

“It’s that boy!” I shouted, my voice hoarse with fury. “It’s that damned boy!” I turned and pushed the waiter aside. He was just bringing me more toast. I rushed out of the room and down to the strange little promenade in front of the hotel.

The sea, which had been smooth, was rough now with hurrying cat’s-paws, and all about where the sphere had been was tumbled water like the wake of a ship. Above, a little puff of cloud whirled like dispersing smoke, and the three or four people on the beach were staring up with interrogative faces towards the point of that unexpected report. And that was all! Boots and waiter and the four young men in blazers came rushing out behind me. Shouts came from windows and doors, and all sorts of worrying people came into sight—agape.

The sea had been smooth, but now it was rough with patches of windblown ripples. All around the place where the sphere had been, the water churned like a ship’s wake. Above, a small puff of cloud whirled like smoke drifting away. Three or four people on the beach were staring up in confusion at the source of the unexpected bang. And that was all! The hotel boot cleaner, the waiter, and the four young men in blazers came rushing out behind me. Shouts came from windows and doors, and all sorts of troublesome people appeared, open-mouthed.

For a time I stood there, too overwhelmed by this new development to think of the people.

For a while, I stood there, too overwhelmed by what had just happened to think about the people.

At first I was too stunned to see the thing as any definite disaster—I was just stunned, as a man is by some accidental violent blow. It is only afterwards he begins to appreciate his specific injury.

At first, I was too stunned to see what had happened as a real disaster. I was simply stunned, like a man struck by a sudden, violent blow. Only afterward does he begin to understand the injury he has suffered.

“Good Lord!”

I felt as though somebody was pouring funk out of a can down the back of my neck. My legs became feeble. I had got the first intimation of what the disaster meant for me. There was that confounded boy—sky high! I was utterly left. There was the gold in the coffee-room—my only possession on earth. How would it all work out? The general effect was of a gigantic unmanageable confusion.

I felt as though someone was pouring fear from a can down the back of my neck. My legs went weak. I had my first glimpse of what the disaster meant for me. That blasted boy was high in the sky! I had been completely left behind. The gold was in the coffee-room, my only possession on earth. How would it all work out? Everything seemed like one enormous, unmanageable mess.

“I say,” said the voice of the little man behind. “I say, you know.”

“Hey,” said the little man behind him. “Hey, you know.”

I wheeled about, and there were twenty or thirty people, a sort of irregular investment of people, all bombarding me with dumb interrogation, with infinite doubt and suspicion. I felt the compulsion of their eyes intolerably. I groaned aloud.

I turned around and saw twenty or thirty people gathered in a loose circle around me. They were all silently questioning me, full of doubt and suspicion. I could hardly bear the pressure of their eyes. I groaned aloud.

“I can’t,” I shouted. “I tell you I can’t! I’m not equal to it! You must puzzle and—and be damned to you!”

“I can’t,” I shouted. “I tell you I can’t! I’m not up to it! You must figure it out, and, and damn you!”

I gesticulated convulsively. He receded a step as though I had threatened him. I made a bolt through them into the hotel. I charged back into the coffee-room, rang the bell furiously. I gripped the waiter as he entered. “D’ye hear?” I shouted. “Get help and carry these bars up to my room right away.”

I waved my arms wildly. He stepped back as though I had threatened him. I rushed through them into the hotel. I charged back into the coffee room and rang the bell furiously. I grabbed the waiter as he came in. “Do you hear?” I shouted. “Get help and carry these bars up to my room right away.”

He failed to understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A scared-looking little old man in a green apron appeared, and further two of the young men in flannels. I made a dash at them and commandeered their services. As soon as the gold was in my room I felt free to quarrel. “Now get out,” I shouted; “all of you get out if you don’t want to see a man go mad before your eyes!” And I helped the waiter by the shoulder as he hesitated in the doorway. And then, as soon as I had the door locked on them all, I tore off the little man’s clothes again, shied them right and left, and got into bed forthwith. And there I lay swearing and panting and cooling for a very long time.

He didn’t understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A frightened-looking little old man in a green apron appeared, along with two more young men in flannels. I rushed at them and took charge of them. As soon as the gold was in my room, I felt free to quarrel. “Now get out,” I shouted. “All of you get out if you don’t want to see a man go mad before your eyes!” When the waiter hesitated in the doorway, I gave him a push by the shoulder. Then, as soon as I had locked the door behind them all, I tore off the little man’s clothes again. I flung them in every direction and got straight into bed. There I lay for a very long time, swearing, panting, and cooling down.

At last I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring up the round-eyed waiter for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good cigars. And these things being procured me, after an exasperating delay that drove me several times to the bell, I locked the door again and proceeded very deliberately to look the entire situation in the face.

At last, I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring for the round-eyed waiter. I asked him for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good cigars. The wait was infuriating, and I rang the bell several times before the things arrived. Then I locked the door again and set about facing the entire situation very deliberately.

The net result of the great experiment presented itself as an absolute failure. It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was an absolute collapse, and this was the final disaster. There was nothing for it but to save myself, and as much as I could in the way of prospects from our débâcle. At one fatal crowning blow all my vague resolutions of return and recovery had vanished. My intention of going back to the moon, of getting a sphereful of gold, and afterwards of having a fragment of Cavorite analysed and so recovering the great secret—perhaps, finally, even of recovering Cavor’s body—all these ideas vanished altogether.

The great experiment had ended in complete failure. It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was a total collapse, and this was the final disaster. All I could do was save myself and salvage whatever prospects I could from our disaster. One final, fatal blow had wiped out all my vague plans to return and recover what we had lost. I had intended to return to the moon and fill a sphere with gold. After that, I had planned to have a fragment of Cavorite analysed and so recover the great secret. Perhaps, in the end, I would even recover Cavor’s body. All these ideas vanished completely.

I was the sole survivor, and that was all.

I was the only survivor, and that was all.

I think that going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had in an emergency. I really believe I should either have got loose-headed or done some indiscreet thing. But there, locked in and secure from all interruptions, I could think out the position in all its bearings and make my arrangements at leisure.

I think going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had in an emergency. I really believe I would either have lost my head or done something foolish. But there, locked in and safe from all interruptions, I could think through every aspect of the situation. I could also make my arrangements without rushing.

Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He had crawled into the sphere, meddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite windows, and gone up. It was highly improbable he had screwed the manhole stopper, and, even if he had, the chances were a thousand to one against his getting back. It was fairly evident that he would gravitate with my bales to somewhere near the middle of the sphere and remain there, and so cease to be a legitimate terrestrial interest, however remarkable he might seem to the inhabitants of some remote quarter of space. I very speedily convinced myself on that point. And as for any responsibility I might have in the matter, the more I reflected upon that, the clearer it became that if only I kept quiet about things, I need not trouble myself about that. If I was faced by sorrowing parents demanding their lost boy, I had merely to demand my lost sphere—or ask them what they meant. At first I had had a vision of weeping parents and guardians, and all sorts of complications; but now I saw that I simply had to keep my mouth shut, and nothing in that way could arise. And, indeed, the more I lay and smoked and thought, the more evident became the wisdom of impenetrability.

Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He had crawled into the sphere, fiddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite windows, and gone up. It was highly unlikely that he had screwed in the manhole stopper. Even if he had, the odds were a thousand to one against his getting back. Clearly, he would probably drift with my bales to somewhere near the middle of the sphere and stay there. He would no longer be a legitimate concern on Earth, however remarkable he might seem to inhabitants of some remote part of space. I quickly convinced myself of that. As for any responsibility I might have had, the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that I need not worry, as long as I kept quiet. If grieving parents confronted me and demanded their lost boy, I only had to demand my lost sphere or ask what they meant. At first, I had pictured weeping parents and guardians and all sorts of complications. But now I saw that I only had to keep my mouth shut, and none of those things could happen. Indeed, the longer I lay there smoking and thinking, the clearer it became that saying nothing was wise.

It is within the right of every British citizen, provided he does not commit damage nor indecorum, to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, and as ragged and filthy as he pleases, and with whatever amount of virgin gold he sees fit to encumber himself, and no one has any right at all to hinder and detain him in this procedure. I formulated that at last to myself, and repeated it over as a sort of private Magna Charta of my liberty.

Every British citizen has the right to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, as long as he causes no damage or behaves indecently. He may be as ragged and filthy as he pleases and burden himself with as much raw gold as he likes. No one has any right to stop or detain him for doing so. I finally put this into words and repeated it to myself as a kind of private Magna Charta of my liberty.

Once I had put that issue on one side, I could take up and consider in an equable manner certain considerations I had scarcely dared to think of before, namely, those arising out of the circumstances of my bankruptcy. But now, looking at this matter calmly and at leisure, I could see that if only I suppressed my identity by a temporary assumption of some less well-known name, and if I retained the two months’ beard that had grown upon me, the risks of any annoyance from the spiteful creditor to whom I have already alluded became very small indeed. From that to a definite course of rational worldly action was plain sailing. It was all amazingly petty, no doubt, but what was there remaining for me to do?

Once I had set that issue aside, I could calmly consider things I had scarcely dared to think about before. These were the problems arising from my bankruptcy. But now that I could look at the matter calmly and without hurry, I saw a way forward. If I temporarily took a less well-known name to hide my identity, and kept my two months’ growth of beard, the risk of trouble from the spiteful creditor I mentioned earlier would be very small indeed. From there, a sensible course of action in practical matters was clear. It was all amazingly petty, no doubt, but what else was left for me to do?

Whatever I did I was resolved that I would keep myself level and right side up.

Whatever I did, I was determined to keep myself level and right side up.

I ordered up writing materials, and addressed a letter to the New Romney Bank—the nearest, the waiter informed me—telling the manager I wished to open an account with him, and requesting him to send two trustworthy persons properly authenticated in a cab with a good horse to fetch some hundredweight of gold with which I happened to be encumbered. I signed the letter “Blake,” which seemed to me to be a thoroughly respectable sort of name. This done, I got a Folkstone Blue Book, picked out an outfitter, and asked him to send a cutter to measure me for a dark tweed suit, ordering at the same time a valise, dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, hat (to fit), and so forth; and from a watchmaker I also ordered a watch. And these letters being despatched, I had up as good a lunch as the hotel could give, and then lay smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as possible, until in accordance with my instructions two duly authenticated clerks came from the bank and weighed and took away my gold. After which I pulled the clothes over my ears in order to drown any knocking, and went very comfortably to sleep.

I ordered writing materials and wrote to the New Romney Bank. The waiter had told me it was the nearest bank. I told the manager I wanted to open an account. I asked him to send two trustworthy people, with proper identification, in a cab with a good horse. They were to collect some hundredweight of gold that I happened to be burdened with. I signed the letter “Blake,” which struck me as a thoroughly respectable name. Then I got a Folkstone Blue Book and chose an outfitter. I asked him to send a tailor to measure me for a dark tweed suit. At the same time, I ordered a suitcase, a dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, a hat to fit, and so on. I also ordered a watch from a watchmaker. Once I had sent the letters, I ordered the best lunch the hotel could provide. Then I lay smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as possible. I waited until two properly identified bank clerks came, as I had requested, and weighed and took away my gold. After that, I pulled the bedclothes over my ears to muffle any knocking and went very comfortably to sleep.

I went to sleep. No doubt it was a prosaic thing for the first man back from the moon to do, and I can imagine that the young and imaginative reader will find my behaviour disappointing. But I was horribly fatigued and bothered, and, confound it! what else was there to do? There certainly was not the remotest chance of my being believed, if I had told my story then, and it would certainly have subjected me to intolerable annoyances. I went to sleep. When at last I woke up again I was ready to face the world as I have always been accustomed to face it since I came to years of discretion. And so I got away to Italy, and there it is I am writing this story. If the world will not have it as fact, then the world may take it as fiction. It is no concern of mine.

I went to sleep. It was surely an ordinary thing for the first man back from the moon to do. I can imagine that a young reader with an active imagination would find my behavior disappointing. But I was terribly tired and troubled, and, damn it, what else was there to do? If I had told my story then, there was no chance anyone would have believed me. And telling it would certainly have caused me unbearable trouble. I went to sleep. When I finally woke up, I was ready to face the world as I always had since reaching adulthood. So I went to Italy, and that is where I am writing this story. If the world will not accept it as fact, then it can take it as fiction. It is no concern of mine.

And now that the account is finished, I am amazed to think how completely this adventure is gone and done with. Everybody believes that Cavor was a not very brilliant scientific experimenter who blew up his house and himself at Lympne, and they explain the bang that followed my arrival at Littlestone by a reference to the experiments with explosives that are going on continually at the government establishment of Lydd, two miles away. I must confess that hitherto I have not acknowledged my share in the disappearance of Master Tommy Simmons, which was that little boy’s name. That, perhaps, may prove a difficult item of corroboration to explain away. They account for my appearance in rags with two bars of indisputable gold upon the Littlestone beach in various ingenious ways—it doesn’t worry me what they think of me. They say I have strung all these things together to avoid being questioned too closely as to the source of my wealth. I would like to see the man who could invent a story that would hold together like this one. Well, they must take it as fiction—there it is.

Now that I have finished my account, I am amazed at how completely the adventure is over and done with. Everybody believes Cavor was a not very brilliant scientist who blew up himself and his house at Lympne. They explain the bang after my arrival at Littlestone by pointing to the explosives tests at the government establishment in Lydd. The tests go on continually, two miles away. I must confess that until now I have not admitted my part in the disappearance of Master Tommy Simmons. That was the little boy’s name. Perhaps his disappearance may prove to be a piece of evidence that is difficult to explain away. People have all sorts of ingenious explanations for my appearance on Littlestone beach in rags, carrying two bars of real gold. What they think of me doesn’t worry me. They say I have put all these things together to avoid close questioning about the source of my wealth. I would like to see the man who could invent a story that holds together as well as this one. Well, they must take it as fiction. There it is.

I have told my story—and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries of this terrestrial life again. Even if one has been to the moon, one has still to earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi, on the scenario of that play I sketched before Cavor came walking into my world, and I am trying to piece my life together as it was before ever I saw him. I must confess that I find it hard to keep my mind on the play when the moonshine comes into my room. It is full moon here, and last night I was out on the pergola for hours, staring away at the shining blankness that hides so much. Imagine it! tables and chairs, and trestles and bars of gold! Confound it!—if only one could hit on that Cavorite again! But a thing like that doesn’t come twice in a life. Here I am, a little better off than I was at Lympne, and that is all. And Cavor has committed suicide in a more elaborate way than any human being ever did before. So the story closes as finally and completely as a dream. It fits in so little with all the other things of life, so much of it is so utterly remote from all human experience, the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and these weightless times, that indeed there are moments when, in spite of my moon gold, I do more than half believe myself that the whole thing was a dream....

I have told my story, and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries of life on Earth again. Even if you have been to the moon, you still have to earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi on the outline of the play I sketched before Cavor walked into my world. I am trying to put my life back together as it was before I ever saw him. I must admit that I find it hard to concentrate on the play when moonlight comes into my room. The moon is full here, and last night I spent hours on the pergola. I stared at that shining blankness that hides so much. Imagine it! Tables and chairs, and trestles and bars of gold! Damn it! If only I could discover Cavorite again! But a thing like that doesn't happen twice in a lifetime. Here I am, a little better off than I was at Lympne, and that is all. And Cavor has committed suicide in a more elaborate way than any human being ever did before. So the story ends as finally and completely as a dream. It fits so little with everything else in life. So much of it is utterly removed from all human experience: the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and those weightless times. In fact, despite my moon gold, there are moments when I more than half believe it was all a dream....