| BOOK ONE: THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS
CHAPTER 17: THE "THUNDER CHILD"
 (continued)   Some of the passengers were of opinion that this firing
 came from Shoeburyness, until it was noticed that it was
 growing louder.  At the same time, far away in the southeast
 the masts and upperworks of three ironclads rose one after
 the other out of the sea, beneath clouds of black smoke.  But
 my brother's attention speedily reverted to the distant firing
 in the south.  He fancied he saw a column of smoke rising
 out of the distant grey haze.    The little steamer was already flapping her way eastward
 of the big crescent of shipping, and the low Essex coast was
 growing blue and hazy, when a Martian appeared, small and
 faint in the remote distance, advancing along the muddy
 coast from the direction of Foulness.  At that the captain on
 the bridge swore at the top of his voice with fear and anger
 at his own delay, and the paddles seemed infected with his
 terror.  Every soul aboard stood at the bulwarks or on the seats
 of the steamer and stared at that distant shape, higher than
 the trees or church towers inland, and advancing with a
 leisurely parody of a human stride.    It was the first Martian my brother had seen, and he
 stood, more amazed than terrified, watching this Titan
 advancing deliberately towards the shipping, wading farther
 and farther into the water as the coast fell away.  Then, far
 away beyond the Crouch, came another, striding over some
 stunted trees, and then yet another, still farther off, wading
 deeply through a shiny mudflat that seemed to hang halfway
 up between sea and sky.  They were all stalking seaward, as
 if to intercept the escape of the multitudinous vessels that
 were crowded between Foulness and the Naze.  In spite of
 the throbbing exertions of the engines of the little paddle-boat,
 and the pouring foam that her wheels flung behind
 her, she receded with terrifying slowness from this ominous
 advance.    Glancing northwestward, my brother saw the large crescent
 of shipping already writhing with the approaching terror;
 one ship passing behind another, another coming round from
 broadside to end on, steamships whistling and giving off
 volumes of steam, sails being let out, launches rushing hither
 and thither.  He was so fascinated by this and by the creeping
 danger away to the left that he had no eyes for anything
 seaward.  And then a swift movement of the steamboat (she
 had suddenly come round to avoid being run down) flung
 him headlong from the seat upon which he was standing.
 There was a shouting all about him, a trampling of feet, and
 a cheer that seemed to be answered faintly.  The steamboat
 lurched and rolled him over upon his hands. |