BOOK ONE: THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS
CHAPTER 13: HOW I FELL IN WITH 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 de'bris 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.
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.
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.
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