The Flight from London

So you understand the roaring wave of fear that swept through the greatest city in the world just as Monday was dawning—the stream of flight rising swiftly to a torrent, lashing in a foaming tumult round the railway stations, banked up into a horrible struggle about the shipping in the Thames, and hurrying by every available channel northward and eastward. By ten o’clock the police organisation, and by midday even the railway organisations, were losing coherency, losing shape and efficiency, guttering, softening, running at last in that swift liquefaction of the social body.

So you can understand the roaring wave of fear that swept through the world’s greatest city as Monday dawned. The stream of people fleeing quickly became a torrent, surging in a foaming tumult around the railway stations. It piled up into a horrible struggle around the ships on the Thames. People rushed north and east by every available route. By ten o’clock, the police organization was losing its structure and effectiveness. By midday, even the railway organizations were breaking down. They flickered, softened, and finally ran like liquid as society swiftly dissolved.

All the railway lines north of the Thames and the South-Eastern people at Cannon Street had been warned by midnight on Sunday, and trains were being filled. People were fighting savagely for standing-room in the carriages even at two o’clock. By three, people were being trampled and crushed even in Bishopsgate Street, a couple of hundred yards or more from Liverpool Street station; revolvers were fired, people stabbed, and the policemen who had been sent to direct the traffic, exhausted and infuriated, were breaking the heads of the people they were called out to protect.

By midnight on Sunday, all the railway lines north of the Thames had been warned. The South-Eastern railway staff at Cannon Street had also been warned, and trains were filling up. Even at two o’clock, people were fighting savagely for standing room in the carriages. By three, people were being trampled and crushed even in Bishopsgate Street, hundreds of yards from Liverpool Street station. Revolvers were fired, and people were stabbed. The police sent to direct traffic were exhausted and furious. They were breaking the heads of the people they had been called out to protect.

And as the day advanced and the engine drivers and stokers refused to return to London, the pressure of the flight drove the people in an ever-thickening multitude away from the stations and along the northward-running roads. By midday a Martian had been seen at Barnes, and a cloud of slowly sinking black vapour drove along the Thames and across the flats of Lambeth, cutting off all escape over the bridges in its sluggish advance. Another bank drove over Ealing, and surrounded a little island of survivors on Castle Hill, alive, but unable to escape.

As the day went on, train drivers and stokers refused to return to London. The pressure of the fleeing crowd drove an ever-growing multitude away from the stations and along the roads north. By midday, a Martian had been seen at Barnes. A slowly sinking cloud of black vapor drifted along the Thames and across the flatlands of Lambeth. As it moved slowly forward, it cut off all escape over the bridges. Another cloud drifted over Ealing and surrounded a small island of survivors on Castle Hill. They were alive, but unable to escape.

After a fruitless struggle to get aboard a North-Western train at Chalk Farm—the engines of the trains that had loaded in the goods yard there ploughed through shrieking people, and a dozen stalwart men fought to keep the crowd from crushing the driver against his furnace—my brother emerged upon the Chalk Farm road, dodged across through a hurrying swarm of vehicles, and had the luck to be foremost in the sack of a cycle shop. The front tire of the machine he got was punctured in dragging it through the window, but he got up and off, notwithstanding, with no further injury than a cut wrist. The steep foot of Haverstock Hill was impassable owing to several overturned horses, and my brother struck into Belsize Road.

My brother tried in vain to board a North-Western train at Chalk Farm. The engines of trains loaded in the goods yard there ploughed through screaming people. A dozen strong men fought to keep the crowd from crushing the driver against his furnace. My brother came out onto Chalk Farm road and dodged across through a rushing swarm of vehicles. He was lucky enough to be among the first to loot a bicycle shop. The front tire of the bicycle he got was punctured as he dragged it through the window. Even so, he got on and rode away, with no injury except a cut wrist. The steep foot of Haverstock Hill was impassable because several horses had fallen over, so my brother turned into Belsize Road.

So he got out of the fury of the panic, and, skirting the Edgware Road, reached Edgware about seven, fasting and wearied, but well ahead of the crowd. Along the road people were standing in the roadway, curious, wondering. He was passed by a number of cyclists, some horsemen, and two motor cars. A mile from Edgware the rim of the wheel broke, and the machine became unridable. He left it by the roadside and trudged through the village. There were shops half opened in the main street of the place, and people crowded on the pavement and in the doorways and windows, staring astonished at this extraordinary procession of fugitives that was beginning. He succeeded in getting some food at an inn.

So he escaped the worst of the panic and followed a route near the Edgware Road. He reached Edgware around seven, hungry and tired, but well ahead of the crowd. Along the road, people stood watching, curious and wondering what was happening. A number of cyclists, some horse riders, and two motor cars passed him. A mile from Edgware, the rim of his bicycle wheel broke, making it impossible to ride. He left the bicycle by the roadside and walked wearily through the village. Some shops on the main street were half open. People crowded the pavement, doorways, and windows, staring in astonishment at the extraordinary procession of fugitives that was beginning. He managed to get some food at an inn.

For a time he remained in Edgware not knowing what next to do. The flying people increased in number. Many of them, like my brother, seemed inclined to loiter in the place. There was no fresh news of the invaders from Mars.

For a while, he stayed in Edgware, unsure what to do next. More people fleeing the invasion arrived. Many of them, like my brother, seemed inclined to linger there. There was no new information about the invaders from Mars.

At that time the road was crowded, but as yet far from congested. Most of the fugitives at that hour were mounted on cycles, but there were soon motor cars, hansom cabs, and carriages hurrying along, and the dust hung in heavy clouds along the road to St. Albans.

At that time, the road was crowded, but traffic was still moving freely. Most of the people fleeing were riding bicycles. But soon cars, horse-drawn cabs, and carriages were hurrying along too. Heavy clouds of dust hung over the road to St. Albans.

It was perhaps a vague idea of making his way to Chelmsford, where some friends of his lived, that at last induced my brother to strike into a quiet lane running eastward. Presently he came upon a stile, and, crossing it, followed a footpath northeastward. He passed near several farmhouses and some little places whose names he did not learn. He saw few fugitives until, in a grass lane towards High Barnet, he happened upon two ladies who became his fellow travellers. He came upon them just in time to save them.

My brother finally turned into a quiet lane heading east, perhaps vaguely hoping to reach Chelmsford, where some friends lived. Soon he came to a stile, crossed it, and followed a footpath northeast. He passed near several farmhouses and small places whose names he never learned. He saw few people fleeing until he came across two women in a grassy lane toward High Barnet. They became his fellow travelers. He found them just in time to save them.

He heard their screams, and, hurrying round the corner, saw a couple of men struggling to drag them out of the little pony-chaise in which they had been driving, while a third with difficulty held the frightened pony’s head. One of the ladies, a short woman dressed in white, was simply screaming; the other, a dark, slender figure, slashed at the man who gripped her arm with a whip she held in her disengaged hand.

He heard their screams and hurried around the corner. He saw two men struggling to pull the women out of the small pony-drawn carriage they had been driving. A third man was struggling to hold the frightened pony’s head. One of the women, a short woman dressed in white, was simply screaming. The other was dark and slender. She struck at the man gripping her arm with a whip in her free hand.

My brother immediately grasped the situation, shouted, and hurried towards the struggle. One of the men desisted and turned towards him, and my brother, realising from his antagonist’s face that a fight was unavoidable, and being an expert boxer, went into him forthwith and sent him down against the wheel of the chaise.

My brother immediately understood what was happening, shouted, and hurried toward the struggle. One of the men stopped and turned toward him. From the man’s face, my brother saw that a fight was unavoidable. He was an expert boxer, so he attacked at once and knocked the man down against the wheel of the chaise.

It was no time for pugilistic chivalry and my brother laid him quiet with a kick, and gripped the collar of the man who pulled at the slender lady’s arm. He heard the clatter of hoofs, the whip stung across his face, a third antagonist struck him between the eyes, and the man he held wrenched himself free and made off down the lane in the direction from which he had come.

There was no time to fight fair, so my brother knocked him down with a kick. Then he grabbed the collar of the man pulling the slender woman’s arm. He heard hooves clattering, and the whip stung his face. A third attacker struck him between the eyes. The man he was holding broke free and ran back down the lane.

Partly stunned, he found himself facing the man who had held the horse’s head, and became aware of the chaise receding from him down the lane, swaying from side to side, and with the women in it looking back. The man before him, a burly rough, tried to close, and he stopped him with a blow in the face. Then, realising that he was deserted, he dodged round and made off down the lane after the chaise, with the sturdy man close behind him, and the fugitive, who had turned now, following remotely.

Partly stunned, he found himself facing the man who had held the horse’s head. He saw the carriage moving away down the lane, swaying from side to side. The women inside were looking back. The man facing him was a big, rough fellow. He tried to grab him, but he stopped him with a punch in the face. Then he realized he had been left behind. He dodged around the man and ran down the lane after the carriage. The big man was close behind him, and the fugitive, who had now turned around, followed farther back.

Suddenly he stumbled and fell; his immediate pursuer went headlong, and he rose to his feet to find himself with a couple of antagonists again. He would have had little chance against them had not the slender lady very pluckily pulled up and returned to his help. It seems she had had a revolver all this time, but it had been under the seat when she and her companion were attacked. She fired at six yards’ distance, narrowly missing my brother. The less courageous of the robbers made off, and his companion followed him, cursing his cowardice. They both stopped in sight down the lane, where the third man lay insensible.

Suddenly, he stumbled and fell. The man chasing him fell headfirst, and when my brother got up, he found himself facing two attackers again. He would have had little chance against them if the slender woman had not bravely stopped and returned to help him. Apparently, she had a revolver all along, but it had been under the seat when she and her companion were attacked. She fired from six yards away, narrowly missing my brother. The less courageous robber ran off, and his companion followed, cursing him for his cowardice. Both stopped farther down the lane, still in sight, where the third man lay unconscious.

“Take this!” said the slender lady, and she gave my brother her revolver.

“Take this!” said the slim woman, and she gave my brother her revolver.

“Go back to the chaise,” said my brother, wiping the blood from his split lip.

“Go back to the carriage,” my brother said, wiping the blood from his split lip.

She turned without a word—they were both panting—and they went back to where the lady in white struggled to hold back the frightened pony.

She turned without a word. They were both panting. They went back to where the lady in white struggled to hold back the frightened pony.

The robbers had evidently had enough of it. When my brother looked again they were retreating.

The robbers had apparently had enough. When my brother looked again, they were retreating.

“I’ll sit here,” said my brother, “if I may”; and he got upon the empty front seat. The lady looked over her shoulder.

“I’ll sit here, if I may,” said my brother. He got onto the empty front seat. The lady looked over her shoulder.

“Give me the reins,” she said, and laid the whip along the pony’s side. In another moment a bend in the road hid the three men from my brother’s eyes.

“Give me the reins,” she said, and struck the pony’s side with the whip. A moment later, a bend in the road hid the three men from my brother’s view.

So, quite unexpectedly, my brother found himself, panting, with a cut mouth, a bruised jaw, and bloodstained knuckles, driving along an unknown lane with these two women.

So, quite unexpectedly, my brother found himself driving along an unfamiliar lane with the two women. He was panting, with a cut mouth, a bruised jaw, and bloody knuckles.

He learned they were the wife and the younger sister of a surgeon living at Stanmore, who had come in the small hours from a dangerous case at Pinner, and heard at some railway station on his way of the Martian advance. He had hurried home, roused the women—their servant had left them two days before—packed some provisions, put his revolver under the seat—luckily for my brother—and told them to drive on to Edgware, with the idea of getting a train there. He stopped behind to tell the neighbours. He would overtake them, he said, at about half past four in the morning, and now it was nearly nine and they had seen nothing of him. They could not stop in Edgware because of the growing traffic through the place, and so they had come into this side lane.

He learned that the women were the wife and younger sister of a surgeon who lived in Stanmore. The surgeon had been returning from a dangerous case in Pinner in the early hours of the morning. On his way, he had heard about the Martian advance at a railway station. He had hurried home and woken the women. Their servant had left them two days earlier. He packed some provisions and put his revolver under the seat. This was lucky for my brother. He told the women to drive to Edgware, hoping they could catch a train there. He stayed behind to warn the neighbors. He said he would catch up with them at about half past four in the morning. But it was now nearly nine, and they had seen nothing of him. They could not stop in Edgware because of the growing traffic through the town, so they had come into this side lane.

That was the story they told my brother in fragments when presently they stopped again, nearer to New Barnet. He promised to stay with them, at least until they could determine what to do, or until the missing man arrived, and professed to be an expert shot with the revolver—a weapon strange to him—in order to give them confidence.

That was the story they told my brother in fragments when they stopped again, closer to New Barnet. He promised to stay with them at least until they could decide what to do or the missing man arrived. To give them confidence, he claimed to be an expert with the revolver, though he had never used one.

They made a sort of encampment by the wayside, and the pony became happy in the hedge. He told them of his own escape out of London, and all that he knew of these Martians and their ways. The sun crept higher in the sky, and after a time their talk died out and gave place to an uneasy state of anticipation. Several wayfarers came along the lane, and of these my brother gathered such news as he could. Every broken answer he had deepened his impression of the great disaster that had come on humanity, deepened his persuasion of the immediate necessity for prosecuting this flight. He urged the matter upon them.

They made a sort of camp by the roadside, and the pony settled happily in the hedge. He told them about his own escape from London and all he knew about the Martians and their ways. The sun climbed higher in the sky. After a while, their conversation faded, and they waited anxiously for what might happen. Several travelers came along the lane, and my brother gathered what news he could from them. Each fragment of an answer deepened his sense of the great disaster that had struck humanity. Each one also strengthened his belief that they needed to continue their flight immediately. He urged them to move on.

“We have money,” said the slender woman, and hesitated.

“We have money,” the slender woman said, then hesitated.

Her eyes met my brother’s, and her hesitation ended.

Her eyes met my brother’s, and she stopped hesitating.

“So have I,” said my brother.

“Me too,” said my brother.

She explained that they had as much as thirty pounds in gold, besides a five-pound note, and suggested that with that they might get upon a train at St. Albans or New Barnet. My brother thought that was hopeless, seeing the fury of the Londoners to crowd upon the trains, and broached his own idea of striking across Essex towards Harwich and thence escaping from the country altogether.

She explained that they had as much as thirty pounds in gold, as well as a five-pound note. She suggested that the money might get them on a train at St. Albans or New Barnet. My brother thought that was hopeless because Londoners were desperately crowding onto the trains. Instead, he suggested crossing Essex to Harwich and escaping the country altogether from there.

Mrs. Elphinstone—that was the name of the woman in white—would listen to no reasoning, and kept calling upon “George”; but her sister-in-law was astonishingly quiet and deliberate, and at last agreed to my brother’s suggestion. So, designing to cross the Great North Road, they went on towards Barnet, my brother leading the pony to save it as much as possible. As the sun crept up the sky the day became excessively hot, and under foot a thick, whitish sand grew burning and blinding, so that they travelled only very slowly. The hedges were grey with dust. And as they advanced towards Barnet a tumultuous murmuring grew stronger.

Mrs. Elphinstone was the name of the woman in white. She would not listen to reason and kept calling for “George.” But her sister-in-law was surprisingly calm and thoughtful. At last, she agreed to my brother’s suggestion. So they continued toward Barnet, planning to cross the Great North Road. My brother led the pony to save it as much effort as possible. As the sun rose, the day became extremely hot. The thick, whitish sand underfoot grew burning hot and blinding, so they traveled very slowly. The hedges were gray with dust. And as they moved toward Barnet, a noisy murmur grew louder.

They began to meet more people. For the most part these were staring before them, murmuring indistinct questions, jaded, haggard, unclean. One man in evening dress passed them on foot, his eyes on the ground. They heard his voice, and, looking back at him, saw one hand clutched in his hair and the other beating invisible things. His paroxysm of rage over, he went on his way without once looking back.

They began to meet more people. Most stared ahead and murmured unclear questions. They looked exhausted, worn, and dirty. A man in evening clothes walked past them, looking at the ground. They heard his voice and looked back at him. One hand clutched his hair while the other beat at invisible things. When his fit of rage passed, he continued on his way without looking back.

As my brother’s party went on towards the crossroads to the south of Barnet they saw a woman approaching the road across some fields on their left, carrying a child and with two other children; and then passed a man in dirty black, with a thick stick in one hand and a small portmanteau in the other. Then round the corner of the lane, from between the villas that guarded it at its confluence with the high road, came a little cart drawn by a sweating black pony and driven by a sallow youth in a bowler hat, grey with dust. There were three girls, East End factory girls, and a couple of little children crowded in the cart.

As my brother’s group continued toward the crossroads south of Barnet, they saw a woman crossing the fields to their left. She was approaching the road, carrying one child and accompanied by two others. They then passed a man in dirty black clothes. He carried a thick stick in one hand and a small suitcase in the other. Next, a small cart came around the corner of the lane, between the villas that stood at its junction with the main road. A sweating black pony pulled the cart, and a pale young man in a dust-covered bowler hat drove it. Three factory girls from the East End and two small children were crowded into the cart.

“This’ll tike us rahnd Edgware?” asked the driver, wild-eyed, white-faced; and when my brother told him it would if he turned to the left, he whipped up at once without the formality of thanks.

“Will this take us around Edgware?” asked the driver, wild-eyed and pale. My brother told him it would if he turned left. The driver immediately whipped his horse on without stopping to thank him.

My brother noticed a pale grey smoke or haze rising among the houses in front of them, and veiling the white façade of a terrace beyond the road that appeared between the backs of the villas. Mrs. Elphinstone suddenly cried out at a number of tongues of smoky red flame leaping up above the houses in front of them against the hot, blue sky. The tumultuous noise resolved itself now into the disorderly mingling of many voices, the gride of many wheels, the creaking of waggons, and the staccato of hoofs. The lane came round sharply not fifty yards from the crossroads.

My brother noticed pale grey smoke or haze rising among the houses ahead of them. It veiled the white front of a row of houses across the road, visible between the backs of the villas. Mrs. Elphinstone suddenly cried out as tongues of smoky red flame leapt above the houses ahead. They rose against the hot blue sky. The tumult now resolved into a chaotic mix of voices, the grinding of wheels, creaking wagons, and the rapid beat of hooves. The lane curved sharply less than fifty yards from the crossroads.

“Good heavens!” cried Mrs. Elphinstone. “What is this you are driving us into?”

“Oh my God!” cried Mrs. Elphinstone. “What are you driving us into?”

My brother stopped.

My brother stopped.

For the main road was a boiling stream of people, a torrent of human beings rushing northward, one pressing on another. A great bank of dust, white and luminous in the blaze of the sun, made everything within twenty feet of the ground grey and indistinct and was perpetually renewed by the hurrying feet of a dense crowd of horses and of men and women on foot, and by the wheels of vehicles of every description.

For the main road was a boiling stream of people, a torrent rushing northward, pressing against one another. A great cloud of dust glowed white in the blazing sun. It made everything within twenty feet of the ground look grey and indistinct. The dust was constantly stirred up by the hurrying feet of a dense crowd of horses, men, and women. The wheels of every kind of vehicle stirred it up too.

“Way!” my brother heard voices crying. “Make way!”

“Way!” my brother heard voices shouting. “Make way!”

It was like riding into the smoke of a fire to approach the meeting point of the lane and road; the crowd roared like a fire, and the dust was hot and pungent. And, indeed, a little way up the road a villa was burning and sending rolling masses of black smoke across the road to add to the confusion.

Approaching the junction of the lane and the road was like riding into smoke from a fire. The crowd roared like a fire, and the dust was hot and sharp. A little way up the road, a villa was burning. It sent rolling clouds of black smoke across the road, adding to the confusion.

Two men came past them. Then a dirty woman, carrying a heavy bundle and weeping. A lost retriever dog, with hanging tongue, circled dubiously round them, scared and wretched, and fled at my brother’s threat.

Two men passed them. Then a dirty woman passed by, weeping and carrying a heavy bundle. A lost retriever circled them hesitantly, its tongue hanging out. It looked frightened and miserable, and it ran away when my brother threatened it.

So much as they could see of the road Londonward between the houses to the right was a tumultuous stream of dirty, hurrying people, pent in between the villas on either side; the black heads, the crowded forms, grew into distinctness as they rushed towards the corner, hurried past, and merged their individuality again in a receding multitude that was swallowed up at last in a cloud of dust.

Through the houses on the right, they could see part of the road toward London. A chaotic stream of dirty people was hurrying along it, crowded between the villas on either side. Their dark heads and crowded figures became distinct as they rushed toward the corner. They hurried past, then lost their individual identities again in the retreating crowd. At last, the crowd disappeared into a cloud of dust.

“Go on! Go on!” cried the voices. “Way! Way!”

“Go on! Go on!” the voices cried. “Make way! Make way!”

One man’s hands pressed on the back of another. My brother stood at the pony’s head. Irresistibly attracted, he advanced slowly, pace by pace, down the lane.

One man pressed his hands against another man’s back. My brother stood at the pony’s head. Unable to resist, he moved slowly down the lane, one step at a time.

Edgware had been a scene of confusion, Chalk Farm a riotous tumult, but this was a whole population in movement. It is hard to imagine that host. It had no character of its own. The figures poured out past the corner, and receded with their backs to the group in the lane. Along the margin came those who were on foot threatened by the wheels, stumbling in the ditches, blundering into one another.

Edgware had been a scene of confusion, and Chalk Farm a riotous uproar, but here an entire population was on the move. It is hard to imagine that vast crowd. It had no character of its own. People poured past the corner and moved away from the group in the lane, their backs turned to them. Those on foot came along the edge, threatened by the wheels, stumbling in the ditches and blundering into one another.

The carts and carriages crowded close upon one another, making little way for those swifter and more impatient vehicles that darted forward every now and then when an opportunity showed itself of doing so, sending the people scattering against the fences and gates of the villas.

The carts and carriages were packed close together, leaving little room for faster, more impatient vehicles. Whenever an opening appeared, those vehicles darted forward, sending people scattering against the fences and gates of the villas.

“Push on!” was the cry. “Push on! They are coming!”

“Keep moving!” people cried. “Keep moving! They are coming!”

In one cart stood a blind man in the uniform of the Salvation Army, gesticulating with his crooked fingers and bawling, “Eternity! Eternity!” His voice was hoarse and very loud so that my brother could hear him long after he was lost to sight in the dust. Some of the people who crowded in the carts whipped stupidly at their horses and quarrelled with other drivers; some sat motionless, staring at nothing with miserable eyes; some gnawed their hands with thirst, or lay prostrate in the bottoms of their conveyances. The horses’ bits were covered with foam, their eyes bloodshot.

In one cart, a blind man in a Salvation Army uniform stood waving his crooked fingers and shouting, “Eternity! Eternity!” His voice was hoarse and so loud that my brother could hear him long after the dust hid him from sight. Some people crowded into the carts whipped stupidly at their horses and argued with other drivers. Some sat motionless, staring at nothing with miserable eyes. Some gnawed their hands from thirst or lay flat on the floors of their carts. The horses’ bits were covered with foam, and their eyes were bloodshot.

There were cabs, carriages, shop-carts, waggons, beyond counting; a mail cart, a road-cleaner’s cart marked “Vestry of St. Pancras,” a huge timber waggon crowded with roughs. A brewer’s dray rumbled by with its two near wheels splashed with fresh blood.

There were countless cabs, carriages, shop carts, and wagons. There was a mail cart and a road cleaner’s cart marked “Vestry of St. Pancras.” A huge timber wagon was crowded with rowdy men. A brewer’s delivery wagon rumbled past, its two left wheels splashed with fresh blood.

“Clear the way!” cried the voices. “Clear the way!”

“Clear the way!” the voices shouted. “Clear the way!”

“Eter-nity! Eter-nity!” came echoing down the road.

“Eter-nity! Eter-nity!” echoed down the road.

There were sad, haggard women tramping by, well dressed, with children that cried and stumbled, their dainty clothes smothered in dust, their weary faces smeared with tears. With many of these came men, sometimes helpful, sometimes lowering and savage. Fighting side by side with them pushed some weary street outcast in faded black rags, wide-eyed, loud-voiced, and foul-mouthed. There were sturdy workmen thrusting their way along, wretched, unkempt men, clothed like clerks or shopmen, struggling spasmodically; a wounded soldier my brother noticed, men dressed in the clothes of railway porters, one wretched creature in a nightshirt with a coat thrown over it.

Sad, exhausted women trudged past, well dressed, with children who cried and stumbled. The children’s delicate clothes were covered in dust, and their tired faces were streaked with tears. Many of the women were accompanied by men, sometimes helpful, sometimes sullen and savage. Weary street outcasts in faded black rags fought their way through the crowd alongside them. They were wide-eyed, loud, and foul-mouthed. Sturdy workers pushed their way along. Miserable, unkempt men dressed like clerks or shop assistants struggled forward in fits and starts. My brother noticed a wounded soldier. There were men dressed as railway porters, and one miserable creature in a nightshirt with a coat thrown over it.

But varied as its composition was, certain things all that host had in common. There were fear and pain on their faces, and fear behind them. A tumult up the road, a quarrel for a place in a waggon, sent the whole host of them quickening their pace; even a man so scared and broken that his knees bent under him was galvanised for a moment into renewed activity. The heat and dust had already been at work upon this multitude. Their skins were dry, their lips black and cracked. They were all thirsty, weary, and footsore. And amid the various cries one heard disputes, reproaches, groans of weariness and fatigue; the voices of most of them were hoarse and weak. Through it all ran a refrain:

But varied as the crowd was, everyone in it had certain things in common. Their faces showed fear and pain, and fear followed behind them. A commotion up the road, a quarrel over a place in a wagon, made the whole crowd hurry. Even a man so frightened and exhausted that his knees buckled was spurred into action for a moment. The heat and dust had already taken their toll on the crowd. Their skin was dry, and their lips were black and cracked. They were all thirsty, weary, and sore from walking. Among the various cries were arguments, reproaches, and groans of weariness and fatigue. Most of their voices were hoarse and weak. Through it all, one refrain kept returning:

“Way! Way! The Martians are coming!”

“Make way! Make way! The Martians are coming!”

Few stopped and came aside from that flood. The lane opened slantingly into the main road with a narrow opening, and had a delusive appearance of coming from the direction of London. Yet a kind of eddy of people drove into its mouth; weaklings elbowed out of the stream, who for the most part rested but a moment before plunging into it again. A little way down the lane, with two friends bending over him, lay a man with a bare leg, wrapped about with bloody rags. He was a lucky man to have friends.

Few people stopped and stepped away from the flood. The lane joined the main road at an angle through a narrow opening. It gave the misleading impression that it came from the direction of London. Yet a kind of eddy carried people into the lane. They were weaker people who had been elbowed out of the stream. Most rested only a moment before plunging back into it. A little way down the lane lay a man with two friends bending over him. His leg was bare and wrapped in bloody rags. He was lucky to have friends.

A little old man, with a grey military moustache and a filthy black frock coat, limped out and sat down beside the trap, removed his boot—his sock was blood-stained—shook out a pebble, and hobbled on again; and then a little girl of eight or nine, all alone, threw herself under the hedge close by my brother, weeping.

A small old man limped out and sat down beside the horse-drawn cart. He had a gray military mustache and wore a filthy black frock coat. He took off his boot, revealing a bloodstained sock, and shook out a pebble. Then he hobbled on. Afterward, a little girl of eight or nine, all alone, threw herself down under the hedge near my brother, weeping.

“I can’t go on! I can’t go on!”

“I can’t go on! I can’t go on!”

My brother woke from his torpor of astonishment and lifted her up, speaking gently to her, and carried her to Miss Elphinstone. So soon as my brother touched her she became quite still, as if frightened.

My brother shook off his stunned daze and lifted her up. Speaking gently to her, he carried her to Miss Elphinstone. As soon as my brother touched her, she became completely still, as if frightened.

“Ellen!” shrieked a woman in the crowd, with tears in her voice—“Ellen!” And the child suddenly darted away from my brother, crying “Mother!”

“Ellen!” shrieked a woman in the crowd, her voice full of tears. “Ellen!” The child suddenly ran away from my brother, crying, “Mother!”

“They are coming,” said a man on horseback, riding past along the lane.

“They are coming,” said a man riding past on horseback along the lane.

“Out of the way, there!” bawled a coachman, towering high; and my brother saw a closed carriage turning into the lane.

“Out of the way!” shouted a coachman, sitting high above. My brother saw a closed carriage turning into the lane.

The people crushed back on one another to avoid the horse. My brother pushed the pony and chaise back into the hedge, and the man drove by and stopped at the turn of the way. It was a carriage, with a pole for a pair of horses, but only one was in the traces. My brother saw dimly through the dust that two men lifted out something on a white stretcher and put it gently on the grass beneath the privet hedge.

The people pressed back against one another to avoid the horse. My brother pushed the pony and chaise back into the hedge. The man drove past and stopped at the bend in the road. His carriage had a pole for a pair of horses, but only one horse was harnessed to it. Through the dust, my brother could dimly see two men lift something out on a white stretcher. They placed it gently on the grass beneath the privet hedge.

One of the men came running to my brother.

One of the men ran up to my brother.

“Where is there any water?” he said. “He is dying fast, and very thirsty. It is Lord Garrick.”

“Where can we find water?” he said. “He is dying quickly and is very thirsty. It is Lord Garrick.”

“Lord Garrick!” said my brother; “the Chief Justice?”

“Lord Garrick!” my brother said. “The Chief Justice?”

“The water?” he said.

“The water?” he said.

“There may be a tap,” said my brother, “in some of the houses. We have no water. I dare not leave my people.”

“There may be a faucet in some of the houses,” said my brother. “We have no water. I don’t dare leave my people.”

The man pushed against the crowd towards the gate of the corner house.

The man pushed through the crowd toward the gate of the house on the corner.

“Go on!” said the people, thrusting at him. “They are coming! Go on!”

“Go on!” the people said, pushing him. “They are coming! Go on!”

Then my brother’s attention was distracted by a bearded, eagle-faced man lugging a small handbag, which split even as my brother’s eyes rested on it and disgorged a mass of sovereigns that seemed to break up into separate coins as it struck the ground. They rolled hither and thither among the struggling feet of men and horses. The man stopped and looked stupidly at the heap, and the shaft of a cab struck his shoulder and sent him reeling. He gave a shriek and dodged back, and a cartwheel shaved him narrowly.

Then a bearded man with an eagle-like face caught my brother’s attention. He was carrying a small handbag. Just as my brother looked at it, the bag split open. A mass of gold sovereigns spilled out, seeming to break into separate coins as it hit the ground. The coins rolled in all directions among the struggling feet of men and horses. The man stopped and stared stupidly at the pile. The shaft of a cab struck his shoulder, sending him reeling. He shrieked and dodged back, narrowly avoiding a cartwheel.

“Way!” cried the men all about him. “Make way!”

“Clear the way!” shouted all the men around him. “Make way!”

So soon as the cab had passed, he flung himself, with both hands open, upon the heap of coins, and began thrusting handfuls in his pocket. A horse rose close upon him, and in another moment, half rising, he had been borne down under the horse’s hoofs.

As soon as the cab passed, he threw himself onto the pile of coins with both hands open. He began stuffing handfuls into his pocket. A horse reared up close to him. A moment later, as he half rose, it knocked him down under its hooves.

“Stop!” screamed my brother, and pushing a woman out of his way, tried to clutch the bit of the horse.

“Stop!” my brother screamed. He pushed a woman out of his way and tried to grab the horse’s bit.

Before he could get to it, he heard a scream under the wheels, and saw through the dust the rim passing over the poor wretch’s back. The driver of the cart slashed his whip at my brother, who ran round behind the cart. The multitudinous shouting confused his ears. The man was writhing in the dust among his scattered money, unable to rise, for the wheel had broken his back, and his lower limbs lay limp and dead. My brother stood up and yelled at the next driver, and a man on a black horse came to his assistance.

Before he could reach it, he heard a scream beneath the wheels. Through the dust, he saw the wheel roll over the poor man’s back. The cart driver lashed his whip at my brother, who ran around behind the cart. The shouting from the crowd confused him. The man writhed in the dust among his scattered money. He could not get up because the wheel had broken his back. His legs lay limp and lifeless. My brother stood up and yelled at the next driver, and a man on a black horse came to help him.

“Get him out of the road,” said he; and, clutching the man’s collar with his free hand, my brother lugged him sideways. But he still clutched after his money, and regarded my brother fiercely, hammering at his arm with a handful of gold. “Go on! Go on!” shouted angry voices behind. “Way! Way!”

“Get him out of the road,” he said. My brother grabbed the man’s collar with his free hand and dragged him to the side. But the man kept reaching for his money. He glared at my brother and pounded his arm with a handful of gold. “Go on! Go on!” shouted angry voices behind them. “Make way! Make way!”

There was a smash as the pole of a carriage crashed into the cart that the man on horseback stopped. My brother looked up, and the man with the gold twisted his head round and bit the wrist that held his collar. There was a concussion, and the black horse came staggering sideways, and the carthorse pushed beside it. A hoof missed my brother’s foot by a hair’s breadth. He released his grip on the fallen man and jumped back. He saw anger change to terror on the face of the poor wretch on the ground, and in a moment he was hidden and my brother was borne backward and carried past the entrance of the lane, and had to fight hard in the torrent to recover it.

There was a crash as the pole of a carriage smashed into the cart stopped by the man on horseback. My brother looked up. The man with the gold turned his head and bit the wrist of the hand gripping his collar. There was a jolt, and the black horse staggered sideways, with the cart horse pushing alongside it. A hoof missed my brother’s foot by a hair. He let go of the fallen man and jumped back. He saw the poor man’s anger turn to terror. A moment later, the man was hidden from view, and my brother was swept backward past the entrance to the lane. He had to fight hard through the torrent to get back to it.

He saw Miss Elphinstone covering her eyes, and a little child, with all a child’s want of sympathetic imagination, staring with dilated eyes at a dusty something that lay black and still, ground and crushed under the rolling wheels. “Let us go back!” he shouted, and began turning the pony round. “We cannot cross this—hell,” he said and they went back a hundred yards the way they had come, until the fighting crowd was hidden. As they passed the bend in the lane my brother saw the face of the dying man in the ditch under the privet, deadly white and drawn, and shining with perspiration. The two women sat silent, crouching in their seat and shivering.

He saw Miss Elphinstone covering her eyes. A small child stared wide-eyed at a dusty something, black and still, ground and crushed under the rolling wheels. The child showed all the lack of sympathy and imagination a child can have. “Let us go back!” he shouted, and began turning the pony around. “We cannot cross this hell,” he said. They went back a hundred yards the way they had come, until the fighting crowd was out of sight. As they passed the bend in the lane, my brother saw the face of the dying man in the ditch under the privet hedge. His face was deathly white and strained, and shone with sweat. The two women sat silent, huddled in their seat and shivering.

Then beyond the bend my brother stopped again. Miss Elphinstone was white and pale, and her sister-in-law sat weeping, too wretched even to call upon “George.” My brother was horrified and perplexed. So soon as they had retreated he realised how urgent and unavoidable it was to attempt this crossing. He turned to Miss Elphinstone, suddenly resolute.

Beyond the bend, my brother stopped again. Miss Elphinstone was pale, and her sister-in-law sat weeping, too miserable even to call for “George.” My brother was horrified and confused. As soon as they had retreated, he realized that attempting the crossing was urgent and unavoidable. Suddenly determined, he turned to Miss Elphinstone.

“We must go that way,” he said, and led the pony round again.

“We have to go that way,” he said, and led the pony around again.

For the second time that day this girl proved her quality. To force their way into the torrent of people, my brother plunged into the traffic and held back a cab horse, while she drove the pony across its head. A waggon locked wheels for a moment and ripped a long splinter from the chaise. In another moment they were caught and swept forward by the stream. My brother, with the cabman’s whip marks red across his face and hands, scrambled into the chaise and took the reins from her.

For the second time that day, the girl showed her courage. To force their way into the stream of people, my brother plunged into the traffic and held back a cab horse. Meanwhile, she drove the pony across in front of the horse. A wagon’s wheel briefly locked with a wheel of the chaise, tearing a long splinter from the carriage. A moment later, they were caught up and swept forward by the stream. My brother scrambled into the chaise, with red whip marks from the cab driver across his face and hands. He took the reins from her.

“Point the revolver at the man behind,” he said, giving it to her, “if he presses us too hard. No!—point it at his horse.”

“Point the revolver at the man behind us,” he said, giving it to her, “if he gets too close. No! Point it at his horse.”

Then he began to look out for a chance of edging to the right across the road. But once in the stream he seemed to lose volition, to become a part of that dusty rout. They swept through Chipping Barnet with the torrent; they were nearly a mile beyond the centre of the town before they had fought across to the opposite side of the way. It was din and confusion indescribable; but in and beyond the town the road forks repeatedly, and this to some extent relieved the stress.

Then he began looking for a chance to edge across the road to the right. But once in the stream of people, he seemed to lose his will and become part of the dusty crowd. They were swept through Chipping Barnet with the flood of people. They had fought their way to the opposite side of the road nearly a mile beyond the town centre. The noise and confusion were indescribable. But in and beyond the town, the road split repeatedly, and this eased the pressure somewhat.

They struck eastward through Hadley, and there on either side of the road, and at another place farther on they came upon a great multitude of people drinking at the stream, some fighting to come at the water. And farther on, from a lull near East Barnet, they saw two trains running slowly one after the other without signal or order—trains swarming with people, with men even among the coals behind the engines—going northward along the Great Northern Railway. My brother supposes they must have filled outside London, for at that time the furious terror of the people had rendered the central termini impossible.

They headed east through Hadley. There, on both sides of the road, they came upon a huge crowd drinking from the stream. They found another crowd farther on. Some people were fighting to reach the water. Farther on, during a lull near East Barnet, they saw two trains moving slowly north along the Great Northern Railway. The trains followed one another without signals or any order. They were packed with people, and men were even riding among the coal behind the engines. My brother thinks the trains must have filled up outside London. By then, the people’s frantic terror had made the central railway stations impossible to use.

Near this place they halted for the rest of the afternoon, for the violence of the day had already utterly exhausted all three of them. They began to suffer the beginnings of hunger; the night was cold, and none of them dared to sleep. And in the evening many people came hurrying along the road nearby their stopping place, fleeing from unknown dangers before them, and going in the direction from which my brother had come.

They stopped near this place for the rest of the afternoon. The violence of the day had already completely exhausted all three of them. They began to feel hungry. The night was cold, and none of them dared to sleep. That evening, many people hurried along the road near their stopping place. They were fleeing unknown dangers ahead of them and heading in the direction my brother had come from.