How I Met the Curate

After getting this sudden lesson in the power of terrestrial weapons, the Martians retreated to their original position upon Horsell Common; and in their haste, and encumbered with the debris of their smashed companion, they no doubt overlooked many such a stray and negligible victim as myself. Had they left their comrade and pushed on forthwith, there was nothing at that time between them and London but batteries of twelve-pounder guns, and they would certainly have reached the capital in advance of the tidings of their approach; as sudden, dreadful, and destructive their advent would have been as the earthquake that destroyed Lisbon a century ago.

After this sudden lesson in the power of earthly weapons, the Martians retreated to their original position on Horsell Common. In their haste, and burdened by the wreckage of their smashed companion, they no doubt overlooked many stray, insignificant victims like me. If they had left their comrade and pressed on immediately, only batteries of twelve-pounder guns stood between them and London. They would certainly have reached the capital before news of their approach. Their arrival would have been as sudden, dreadful, and destructive as the earthquake that destroyed Lisbon a century ago.

But they were in no hurry. Cylinder followed cylinder on its interplanetary flight; every twenty-four hours brought them reinforcement. And meanwhile the military and naval authorities, now fully alive to the tremendous power of their antagonists, worked with furious energy. Every minute a fresh gun came into position until, before twilight, every copse, every row of suburban villas on the hilly slopes about Kingston and Richmond, masked an expectant black muzzle. And through the charred and desolated area—perhaps twenty square miles altogether—that encircled the Martian encampment on Horsell Common, through charred and ruined villages among the green trees, through the blackened and smoking arcades that had been but a day ago pine spinneys, crawled the devoted scouts with the heliographs that were presently to warn the gunners of the Martian approach. But the Martians now understood our command of artillery and the danger of human proximity, and not a man ventured within a mile of either cylinder, save at the price of his life.

But the Martians were in no hurry. Cylinder after cylinder made the journey through space. Every twenty-four hours brought the Martians reinforcements. Meanwhile, the military and naval authorities worked with furious energy. They now fully understood the tremendous power of their enemies. Every minute, another gun was put in position. By twilight, every small wood and every row of suburban villas on the hills around Kingston and Richmond concealed a black gun barrel, ready to fire. A burned and devastated area surrounded the Martian camp on Horsell Common. It covered perhaps twenty square miles in all. Through the area crawled the dedicated scouts, carrying heliographs to warn the gunners when the Martians approached. They passed through burned and ruined villages among the green trees. They crawled through blackened, smoking rows of trees that had been small pine woods only a day before. But the Martians now understood the power of our artillery and the danger of letting humans get close. No man ventured within a mile of either cylinder without paying for it with his life.

It would seem that these giants spent the earlier part of the afternoon in going to and fro, transferring everything from the second and third cylinders—the second in Addlestone Golf Links and the third at Pyrford—to their original pit on Horsell Common. Over that, above the blackened heather and ruined buildings that stretched far and wide, stood one as sentinel, while the rest abandoned their vast fighting-machines and descended into the pit. They were hard at work there far into the night, and the towering pillar of dense green smoke that rose therefrom could be seen from the hills about Merrow, and even, it is said, from Banstead and Epsom Downs.

It seems the giants spent the early afternoon moving everything from the second and third cylinders to their original pit on Horsell Common. The second cylinder was at Addlestone Golf Links, and the third was at Pyrford. One giant stood guard over the pit, above the blackened heather and ruined buildings that stretched far and wide. The others left their vast fighting-machines and went down into the pit. They worked hard there far into the night. A towering column of thick green smoke rose from the pit. It could be seen from the hills around Merrow and, reportedly, even from Banstead and Epsom Downs.

And while the Martians behind me were thus preparing for their next sally, and in front of me Humanity gathered for the battle, I made my way with infinite pains and labour from the fire and smoke of burning Weybridge towards London.

Behind me, the Martians were preparing for their next attack. Ahead of me, humanity was gathering for battle. Between them, I made my way with immense effort through the fire and smoke of burning Weybridge, heading toward London.

I saw an abandoned boat, very small and remote, drifting down-stream; and throwing off the most of my sodden clothes, I went after it, gained it, and so escaped out of that destruction. There were no oars in the boat, but I contrived to paddle, as well as my parboiled hands would allow, down the river towards Halliford and Walton, going very tediously and continually looking behind me, as you may well understand. I followed the river, because I considered that the water gave me my best chance of escape should these giants return.

I saw a tiny abandoned boat far away, drifting downstream. I threw off most of my soaked clothes and went after the boat. I reached it and escaped the destruction. There were no oars, but I managed to paddle downriver toward Halliford and Walton. My scalded hands made paddling difficult. I moved very slowly and kept looking behind me, as you can well understand. I followed the river because I thought the water gave me my best chance of escape if the giants returned.

The hot water from the Martian’s overthrow drifted downstream with me, so that for the best part of a mile I could see little of either bank. Once, however, I made out a string of black figures hurrying across the meadows from the direction of Weybridge. Halliford, it seemed, was deserted, and several of the houses facing the river were on fire. It was strange to see the place quite tranquil, quite desolate under the hot blue sky, with the smoke and little threads of flame going straight up into the heat of the afternoon. Never before had I seen houses burning without the accompaniment of an obstructive crowd. A little farther on the dry reeds up the bank were smoking and glowing, and a line of fire inland was marching steadily across a late field of hay.

The hot water from the Martian’s fall drifted downstream with me. For almost a mile, I could see little of either bank. Once, though, I spotted a line of black figures hurrying across the meadows from the direction of Weybridge. Halliford seemed deserted, and several houses facing the river were on fire. It was strange to see the place so peaceful and deserted beneath the hot blue sky. Smoke and thin threads of flame rose straight into the afternoon heat. I had never before seen houses burning without a crowd getting in the way. A little farther on, the dry reeds along the bank were smoking and glowing. Inland, a line of fire was moving steadily across a late field of hay.

For a long time I drifted, so painful and weary was I after the violence I had been through, and so intense the heat upon the water. Then my fears got the better of me again, and I resumed my paddling. The sun scorched my bare back. At last, as the bridge at Walton was coming into sight round the bend, my fever and faintness overcame my fears, and I landed on the Middlesex bank and lay down, deadly sick, amid the long grass. I suppose the time was then about four or five o’clock. I got up presently, walked perhaps half a mile without meeting a soul, and then lay down again in the shadow of a hedge. I seem to remember talking, wanderingly, to myself during that last spurt. I was also very thirsty, and bitterly regretful I had drunk no more water. It is a curious thing that I felt angry with my wife; I cannot account for it, but my impotent desire to reach Leatherhead worried me excessively.

For a long time I drifted. I was sore and exhausted from the violence I had endured, and the heat over the water was intense. Then my fears overcame me again, and I started paddling. The sun scorched my bare back. At last, the bridge at Walton began to appear around the bend. My fever and weakness overcame my fears, and I landed on the Middlesex bank. I lay down in the long grass, feeling deathly ill. I suppose it was then about four or five o’clock. Soon I got up and walked perhaps half a mile without meeting anyone. Then I lay down again in the shade of a hedge. I seem to remember talking incoherently to myself during that last stretch. I was also very thirsty and bitterly regretted not having drunk more water. Strangely, I felt angry with my wife. I cannot explain why, but my helpless longing to reach Leatherhead troubled me greatly.

I do not clearly remember the arrival of the curate, so that probably I dozed. I became aware of him as a seated figure in soot-smudged shirt sleeves, and with his upturned, clean-shaven face staring at a faint flickering that danced over the sky. The sky was what is called a mackerel sky—rows and rows of faint down-plumes of cloud, just tinted with the midsummer sunset.

I don't clearly remember the curate arriving, so I probably dozed off. I became aware of him sitting there in soot-smudged shirt sleeves. His clean-shaven face was turned upward, staring at a faint flickering that danced across the sky. The sky was what is called a mackerel sky. Rows and rows of faint, downy clouds were lightly tinted by the midsummer sunset.

I sat up, and at the rustle of my motion he looked at me quickly.

I sat up, and he quickly looked at me when he heard me move.

“Have you any water?” I asked abruptly.

“Do you have any water?” I asked abruptly.

He shook his head.

He shook his head.

“You have been asking for water for the last hour,” he said.

“You’ve been asking for water for the last hour,” he said.

For a moment we were silent, taking stock of each other. I dare say he found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked trousers and socks, scalded, and my face and shoulders blackened by the smoke. His face was a fair weakness, his chin retreated, and his hair lay in crisp, almost flaxen curls on his low forehead; his eyes were rather large, pale blue, and blankly staring. He spoke abruptly, looking vacantly away from me.

For a moment we were silent, sizing each other up. I suppose he found me a strange sight. I wore nothing but my soaked trousers and socks, and I was scalded. Smoke had blackened my face and shoulders. His pale face looked weak, with a receding chin and crisp, almost flaxen curls resting on his low forehead. His eyes were rather large and pale blue, and they stared blankly. He spoke abruptly, looking vacantly away from me.

“What does it mean?” he said. “What do these things mean?”

“What does it mean?” he said. “What do these things mean?”

I stared at him and made no answer.

I stared at him and said nothing.

He extended a thin white hand and spoke in almost a complaining tone.

He held out a thin white hand and spoke in an almost complaining tone.

“Why are these things permitted? What sins have we done? The morning service was over, I was walking through the roads to clear my brain for the afternoon, and then—fire, earthquake, death! As if it were Sodom and Gomorrah! All our work undone, all the work—— What are these Martians?”

“Why are these things allowed to happen? What sins have we committed? The morning service was over. I was walking along the roads to clear my head for the afternoon. Then came fire, earthquake, death! As if it were Sodom and Gomorrah! All our work undone, all the work... What are these Martians?”

“What are we?” I answered, clearing my throat.

“What are we?” I replied, clearing my throat.

He gripped his knees and turned to look at me again. For half a minute, perhaps, he stared silently.

He gripped his knees and turned to look at me again. He stared silently for perhaps half a minute.

“I was walking through the roads to clear my brain,” he said. “And suddenly—fire, earthquake, death!”

“I was walking along the roads to clear my head,” he said. “And suddenly, fire, earthquake, death!”

He relapsed into silence, with his chin now sunken almost to his knees.

He fell silent again, his chin now almost resting on his knees.

Presently he began waving his hand.

Soon he began waving his hand.

“All the work—all the Sunday schools—What have we done—what has Weybridge done? Everything gone—everything destroyed. The church! We rebuilt it only three years ago. Gone! Swept out of existence! Why?”

“All the work. All the Sunday schools. What have we done? What has Weybridge done? Everything is gone. Everything is destroyed. The church! We rebuilt it only three years ago. Gone! Wiped out of existence! Why?”

Another pause, and he broke out again like one demented.

After another pause, he burst out again like a madman.

“The smoke of her burning goeth up for ever and ever!” he shouted.

“The smoke from her burning rises forever and ever!” he shouted.

His eyes flamed, and he pointed a lean finger in the direction of Weybridge.

His eyes flashed, and he pointed a thin finger toward Weybridge.

By this time I was beginning to take his measure. The tremendous tragedy in which he had been involved—it was evident he was a fugitive from Weybridge—had driven him to the very verge of his reason.

By then, I was beginning to understand him. The terrible tragedy he had lived through had nearly driven him out of his mind. It was clear that he had fled from Weybridge.

“Are we far from Sunbury?” I said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Are we far from Sunbury?” I asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What are we to do?” he asked. “Are these creatures everywhere? Has the earth been given over to them?”

“What are we going to do?” he asked. “Are these creatures everywhere? Have they taken over the earth?”

“Are we far from Sunbury?”

“Are we far from Sunbury?”

“Only this morning I officiated at early celebration——”

“Just this morning I led the early communion service...”

“Things have changed,” I said, quietly. “You must keep your head. There is still hope.”

“Things have changed,” I said quietly. “You must stay calm. There is still hope.”

“Hope!”

“Hope!”

“Yes. Plentiful hope—for all this destruction!”

“Yes. Plenty of hope, despite all this destruction!”

I began to explain my view of our position. He listened at first, but as I went on the interest dawning in his eyes gave place to their former stare, and his regard wandered from me.

I began to explain how I saw our situation. He listened at first, and his eyes began to show interest. But as I went on, his eyes returned to their former stare, and he looked away from me.

“This must be the beginning of the end,” he said, interrupting me. “The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord! When men shall call upon the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide them—hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!”

“This must be the beginning of the end,” he said, interrupting me. “The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord! The day when people will call on the mountains and rocks to fall on them and hide them. Hide them from the face of the one who sits on the throne!”

I began to understand the position. I ceased my laboured reasoning, struggled to my feet, and, standing over him, laid my hand on his shoulder.

I began to understand the situation. I stopped trying so hard to reason it out and struggled to my feet. Standing over him, I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Be a man!” said I. “You are scared out of your wits! What good is religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes and floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you think God had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent.”

“Be a man!” I said. “You’re scared out of your mind! What good is religion if it falls apart in a disaster? Think of what earthquakes, floods, wars, and volcanoes have done to people before! Did you think God had spared Weybridge from such disasters? He’s not an insurance agent.”

For a time he sat in blank silence.

For a while, he sat silently, staring blankly.

“But how can we escape?” he asked, suddenly. “They are invulnerable, they are pitiless.”

“But how can we escape?” he asked suddenly. “They cannot be harmed. They have no mercy.”

“Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other,” I answered. “And the mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them was killed yonder not three hours ago.”

“Neither one, perhaps,” I answered. “And the more powerful they are, the more sensible and cautious we should be. One of them was killed over there less than three hours ago.”

“Killed!” he said, staring about him. “How can God’s ministers be killed?”

“Killed!” he said, looking around. “How can God’s ministers be killed?”

“I saw it happen.” I proceeded to tell him. “We have chanced to come in for the thick of it,” said I, “and that is all.”

“I saw it happen.” I went on to tell him about it. “We just happened to find ourselves in the middle of it,” I said, “and that is all.”

“What is that flicker in the sky?” he asked abruptly.

“What is that flicker in the sky?” he asked suddenly.

I told him it was the heliograph signalling—that it was the sign of human help and effort in the sky.

I told him it was a heliograph signal, a sign in the sky that people were trying to help.

“We are in the midst of it,” I said, “quiet as it is. That flicker in the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it are the Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and Kingston and the trees give cover, earthworks are being thrown up and guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way again.”

“We are in the middle of it,” I said, “quiet as it is. That flicker in the sky tells us a storm is gathering. I believe the Martians are over there. Toward London, around the hills of Richmond and Kingston, earthworks are being built and guns are being positioned under cover of the trees. Soon the Martians will be coming this way again.”

And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a gesture.

As I spoke, he jumped to his feet and stopped me with a gesture.

“Listen!” he said.

“Listen!” he said.

From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance of distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. A cockchafer came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the west the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of Weybridge and Shepperton and the hot, still splendour of the sunset.

From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull sound of distant guns and strange, distant cries. Then everything was still. A cockchafer beetle buzzed over the hedge and past us. High in the west, the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of Weybridge and Shepperton. It also hung above the hot, still glow of the sunset.

“We had better follow this path,” I said, “northward.”

“We should follow this path,” I said, “north.”