BOOK ONE: THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS
CHAPTER 16: THE EXODUS FROM LONDON
(continued)
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.
There were cabs, carriages, shop cars, 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.
"Clear the way!" cried the voices. "Clear the way!"
"Eter-nity! Eter-nity!" came echoing 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.
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:
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