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09 - The Time Machine - H G Wells · Classic Science Fiction Books

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  Speaker 1: Chapter nine. We emerged from the palace while the sun
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  Speaker 1: was still in part above the horizon. I was determined
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  Speaker 1: to reach the White Sphinx early the next morning, and
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  Speaker 1: ere the dusk, I proposed pushing through the woods that
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  Speaker 1: had stopped me on the previous journey. My plan was
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  Speaker 1: to go as far as possible that night, and then
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  Speaker 1: building a fire to sleep in the protection of its glare. Accordingly,
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  Speaker 1: as we went along, I gathered any sticks or dried
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  Speaker 1: grass I saw, and presently had my arms full of
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  Speaker 1: such litter thus loaded. Our progress was slower than I
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  Speaker 1: had anticipated, And besides, Weena was tired, and I began
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  Speaker 1: to suffer from sleepiness too, so that it was full
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  Speaker 1: night before we reached the wood upon the shrubby hill
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  Speaker 1: of its edge. Weena would have stopped fearing the darkness
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  Speaker 1: before us, but a singular sense of impending calamity that
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  Speaker 1: should indeed have served me as a warning, drove me onward.
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  Speaker 1: I had been without sleep for a night and two days,
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  Speaker 1: and I was feverish and irritable. I felt sleep coming
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  Speaker 1: upon me and the morlocks with it. While we hesitated
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  Speaker 1: among the black bushes behind us and dim against their blackness,
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  Speaker 1: I saw three crouching figures. There was scrub and long
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  Speaker 1: grass all about us, and I did not feel safe
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  Speaker 1: from their insidious approach. The forest, I calculated, was rather
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  Speaker 1: less than a mile across if we could get through
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  Speaker 1: it to the bare hillside, there, as it seemed to me,
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  Speaker 1: was an altogether safer resting place. I thought that with
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  Speaker 1: my matches and my camphor, I could contrive to keep
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  Speaker 1: my path illuminated through the woods. Yet it was evident
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  Speaker 1: that if I was to flourish matches with my hands,
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  Speaker 1: I should have to abandon my firewood. So rather reluctantly
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  Speaker 1: I put it down, and then it came into my
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  Speaker 1: head that I would amaze our friends behind by lighting it.
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  Speaker 1: I was to discover the atrocious folly of this proceeding,
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  Speaker 1: but it came to my mind as an ingenious move
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  Speaker 1: for covering our retreat. I don't know if you have
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  Speaker 1: ever thought what a rare thing flame must be in
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  Speaker 1: the absence of man and in a temperate climate, the
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  Speaker 1: sun's heat is rarely strong enough to burn, even when
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  Speaker 1: it is focused by dewdrops, as is sometimes the case
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  Speaker 1: in more tropical districts. Lightning may blast and blacken, but
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  Speaker 1: it rarely gives rise to widespread fire. Decaying vegetation may
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  Speaker 1: occasionally smolder with the heat of its fermentation, but this
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  Speaker 1: rarely results in flame. In this decadence, too, the art
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  Speaker 1: of fire making had been forgotten on the earth. The
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  Speaker 1: red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood
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  Speaker 1: were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena. She
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  Speaker 1: wanted to run to it and play with it. I
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  Speaker 1: believe she would have cast herself into it had I
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  Speaker 1: not restrained her. But I caught her up, and, in
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  Speaker 1: spite of her struggles, plunged boldly before me into the
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  Speaker 1: wood for a little way. The glare of my fire
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  Speaker 1: lit the path. Looking back presently, I could see through
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  Speaker 1: the crowded stems that from my heap of sticks, the
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  Speaker 1: blaze had spread to some bushes adjacent, and a curved
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  Speaker 1: line of fire was creeping up the grass of the hill.
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  Speaker 1: I laughed at that, and turned again to the dark
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  Speaker 1: trees before me. It was very black, and Weena clung
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  Speaker 1: to me convulsively, But there was still, as my eyes
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  Speaker 1: grew accustomed to the darkness, sufficient light for me to
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  Speaker 1: avoid the stems. Overhead, it was simply black, except where
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  Speaker 1: a gap of remote blue sky shone down upon us.
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  Speaker 1: Here and there I struck none of my matches. Because
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  Speaker 1: I had no hand free upon my left arm, I
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  Speaker 1: carried my little one in my right right hand. I
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  Speaker 1: had my iron bar for some way. I heard nothing
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  Speaker 1: but the crackling twigs under my feet, the faint rustle
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  Speaker 1: of the breeze above, and my own breathing, and the
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  Speaker 1: throb of the blood vessels in my ears. Then I
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  Speaker 1: seemed to know of a pattering about me. I pushed
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  Speaker 1: on grimly. The pattering grew more distinct, and then I
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  Speaker 1: caught the same queer sound and voices I had heard
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  Speaker 1: in the underworld. There were evidently several of the morlocks,
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  Speaker 1: and they were closing in upon me. Indeed, in another minute,
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  Speaker 1: I felt a tug at my coat, then something at
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  Speaker 1: my arm, and Weena shivered violently and became quite still.
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  Speaker 1: It was time for a match, but to get one,
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  Speaker 1: I must put her down. I did so, and as
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  Speaker 1: I fumbled with my pocket, a struggle began in the
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  Speaker 1: darkness about my knees. Perfectly silent on her part, and
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  Speaker 1: with the same peculiar cooing sounds from the more soft
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  Speaker 1: little hands, too were creeping over my coat and back,
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  Speaker 1: touching even my neck. Then the match scratched and fizzed.
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  Speaker 1: I held it flaring, and saw the white backs of
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  Speaker 1: the Morlocks in flight amid the trees. I hastily took
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  Speaker 1: a lump of camphor from my pocket and prepared to
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  Speaker 1: light it as soon as the match should wane. Then
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  Speaker 1: I looked at Weena. She was lying clutching my feet
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  Speaker 1: and quite motionless, with her face to the ground. With
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  Speaker 1: a sudden fright, I stooped to her. She seemed scarcely
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  Speaker 1: to breathe. I lit the block of camphor and flung
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  Speaker 1: it to the ground, and as it split and flared
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  Speaker 1: up and drove back the Morlocks and the shadows, I
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  Speaker 1: knelt down and lifted her. The wood behind seemed full
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  Speaker 1: of the stir and murmur of a great company. She
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  Speaker 1: seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon my
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  Speaker 1: shoulder and rose to push on. And then there came
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  Speaker 1: a horrible realization. In maneuvering with my matches and Weena,
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  Speaker 1: I had turned myself about several times, and now I
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  Speaker 1: had not the faintest idea in what direction lay my path.
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  Speaker 1: For all I knew I might be facing back towards
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  Speaker 1: the palace of green porcelain, I found myself in a
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  Speaker 1: cold sweat. I had to think rapidly what to do.
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  Speaker 1: I determined to build a fire, and in camp where
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  Speaker 1: we were, I put Weena, still motionless, down upon a
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  Speaker 1: turfy bowl, and very hastily, as my first lump of
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  Speaker 1: camphor waned, I began collecting sticks and leaves here and
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  Speaker 1: there out of the darkness round me. The morlock's eyes
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  Speaker 1: shone like carbuncles. The camphor flickered and went out. I
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  Speaker 1: lit a match, and as I did so, two white
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  Speaker 1: forms that had been approaching Weena dashed hastily away. One
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  Speaker 1: was so blinded by the light that he came straight
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  Speaker 1: for me, and I felt his bones grind under the
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  Speaker 1: blow of my fist. He gave a whoop of dismay,
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  Speaker 1: staggered a little way, and fell down. I lit another
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  Speaker 1: piece of camphor and went on gathering my bonfire. Presently
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  Speaker 1: I noticed how dry was some of the foliage above me,
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  Speaker 1: For since my arrival on the time machine a matter
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  Speaker 1: of a week, no rain had fallen. So instead of
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  Speaker 1: casting about among the trees for fallen twigs, I began
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  Speaker 1: leaping up and dragging down branches. Very soon I had
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  Speaker 1: a choking, smoky fire of green wood and dry sticks,
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  Speaker 1: and could economize my camphor. Then I turned to where
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  Speaker 1: Lena lay beside my iron mace. I tried what I
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  Speaker 1: could to revive her, but she lay like one dead.
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  Speaker 1: I could not even satisfy myself whether or not she breathed. Now,
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  Speaker 1: the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and
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  Speaker 1: it must have made me heavy of a sudden Moreover,
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  Speaker 1: the vapor of camphor was in the My fire would
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  Speaker 1: not need replenishing for an hour or so. I felt
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  Speaker 1: very weary after my exertion, and sat down. The wood, too,
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  Speaker 1: was full of a slumbrous murmur that I did not understand.
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  Speaker 1: I seemed just to nod and open my eyes. But
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  Speaker 1: all was dark, and the morlocks had their hands upon me,
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  Speaker 1: flinging off their clinging fingers. I hastily felt in my
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  Speaker 1: pocket for the match box, and it had gone. Then
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  Speaker 1: they gripped and closed with me again. In a moment
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  Speaker 1: I knew what had happened. I had slept, and my
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  Speaker 1: fire had gone out, and the bitterness of death came
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  Speaker 1: over my soul. The forest seemed full of the smell
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  Speaker 1: of burning wood. I was caught by the neck, by
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  Speaker 1: the hair, by the arms, and pulled down. It was
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  Speaker 1: indescribably horrible in the darkness to feel all those soft
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  Speaker 1: creatures heaped upon me. I felt as if I was
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  Speaker 1: in a monstrous spider's web. I was overpowered and went down.
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  Speaker 1: I felt little teeth nipping at my neck. I rolled over,
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  Speaker 1: and as I did so, my hand came against my
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  Speaker 1: iron lever. It gave me strength. I struggled up, shaking
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  Speaker 1: the human rats from me and holding the bar short.
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  Speaker 1: I thrust where I judged their faces might be. I
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  Speaker 1: could feel the succulent giving of flesh and bone under
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  Speaker 1: my blows, and for a moment I was free. The
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  Speaker 1: strange exultation that so often seems to accompany hard fighting
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  Speaker 1: came upon me. I knew that both I and Weena
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  Speaker 1: were lost, but I determined to make the morlots pay
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  Speaker 1: for their meat. I stood with my back to a tree,
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  Speaker 1: swinging the iron bar before me. The whole wood was
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  Speaker 1: full of the stir and cries of them. A minute passed,
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  Speaker 1: their voices seemed to rise to a higher pitch of excitement,
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  Speaker 1: and their movements grew faster. Yet none came within reach.
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  Speaker 1: I stood glaring at the blackness. Then suddenly came hope,
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  Speaker 1: what if the Morlocks were afraid? And close on the
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  Speaker 1: heels of that came a strange thing. The darkness seemed
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  Speaker 1: to grow luminous, very dimly. I began to see the
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  Speaker 1: morlocks about me, Three battered at my feet, and then
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  Speaker 1: I recognized with incredulous surprise that the others were running
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  Speaker 1: in an incessant stream, as it seemed, from behind me
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  Speaker 1: and away through the wood in front, and their backs
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  Speaker 1: seemed no longer white but reddish. As I stood agape,
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  Speaker 1: I saw a little red spark go drifting across a
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  Speaker 1: gap of starlight between the branches and vanish. And at
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  Speaker 1: that I understood the smell of burning wood, the slumbrous
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  Speaker 1: murmur that was growing now into a gusty roar, the
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  Speaker 1: red glow, and the morlock's flight. Stepping out from behind
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  Speaker 1: my tree, and looking back, I saw through the black
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  Speaker 1: pillars of the nearer trees the flames of the burning forest.
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  Speaker 1: It was my first fire coming after me. With that,
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  Speaker 1: I looked for Weena, but she was gone. The hissing
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  Speaker 1: and crackling behind me, the explosive thud as each fresh
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  Speaker 1: tree burst into flame, left little time for reflection. My
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  Speaker 1: iron bar still gripped, I followed in the morlock's path.
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  Speaker 1: It was a close race. Once the flames crept forward
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  Speaker 1: so swiftly on my right as I ran that I
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  Speaker 1: was out flanked and had to strike off to the left.
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  Speaker 1: But at last I emerged upon a small open space,
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  Speaker 1: and as I did so, a morlock came blundering towards me,
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  Speaker 1: and passed me and went on straight into the fire.
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  Speaker 1: And now I was able to see the most weird
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  Speaker 1: and horrible thing I think of all that I beheld
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  Speaker 1: in that future age. This whole space was as bright
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  Speaker 1: as day with the reflection of the fire. In the
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  Speaker 1: center was a hill or tumulus, surmounted by a scorched hawthorn.
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  Speaker 1: Beyond this was another arm of the burning forest, with
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  Speaker 1: yellow tongues already writhing from it, completely encircling the space
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  Speaker 1: with a fence of fire. Upon the hillside were some
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  Speaker 1: thirty or forty morlocks, dazzled by the light and heat,
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  Speaker 1: and blundering hither and thither against each other in their bewilderment.
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  Speaker 1: At first I did not realize their blindness, and struck
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  Speaker 1: furiously at them with my bar, in a frenzy of
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  Speaker 1: fear as they approached me, killing one and crippling several more.
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  Speaker 1: But when I had watched the gestures of one of
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  Speaker 1: them groping under the hawthorn against the red sky, and
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  Speaker 1: heard their moans, I was assured of their absolute helplessness
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  Speaker 1: and misery in the glare, and I struck no more
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  Speaker 1: of them. Yet every now and then one would come
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  Speaker 1: straight towards me, setting loose a quivering horror that made
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  Speaker 1: ME quick to elude him. At one time, the flames
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  Speaker 1: died down somewhat, and I feared the foul creatures would
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  Speaker 1: presently be able to see me. I was thinking of
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  Speaker 1: beginning the fight by killing some of them before this
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  Speaker 1: should happen. But the fire burst out again brightly, and
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  Speaker 1: I stayed my hand. I walked about the hill among
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  Speaker 1: them and avoided them, looking for some trace of Weena.
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  Speaker 1: But Weena was gone. At last. I sat down on
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  Speaker 1: the summit of the hillock and watched this strange, incredible
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  Speaker 1: company of blind things, groping to and fro and making
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  Speaker 1: uncanny noises to each other as the glare of the
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  Speaker 1: fire beat on them. The coiling uprush of smoke streamed
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  Speaker 1: across the sky and through the rare tatters of that
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  Speaker 1: red canopy, remote as though they belonged to another universe
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  Speaker 1: shown the little stars. Two or three morlocks came blundering
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  Speaker 1: into me, and I drove them off with blows of
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  Speaker 1: my fists, trembling as I did so. For the most
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  Speaker 1: part of that night, I was persuaded it was a nightmare.
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  Speaker 1: I bit myself and screamed in a passionate desire to awake.
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  Speaker 1: I beat the ground with my hands, and got up
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  Speaker 1: and sat down again, and wandered here and there, and
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  Speaker 1: again sat down. Then I would fall to rubbing my
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  Speaker 1: eyes and calling upon God to let me awake. Thrice
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  Speaker 1: I saw morlocks put their heads down in a kind
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  Speaker 1: of agony, and rush into the flames. But at last,
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  Speaker 1: above the subsiding red of the fire, above the streaming
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  Speaker 1: masses of black smoke, and the whitening and blackening tree stumps,
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  Speaker 1: and the diminishing numbers of these dim creatures, came the
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  Speaker 1: white light of the day. I searched again for traces
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  Speaker 1: of Weena, but there were none. It was plain that
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  Speaker 1: they had left her poor little body in the forest.
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  Speaker 1: I cannot describe how it relieved me to think that
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  Speaker 1: it had escaped the awful fate to which it seemed destined.
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  Speaker 1: As I thought of that, I was almost moved to
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  Speaker 1: begin a massacre of the helpless abominations about me, But
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  Speaker 1: I contained myself. The hillock, as I have said, was
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  Speaker 1: a kind of island in the forest. From its summit
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  Speaker 1: I could now make out, through a haze of smoke,
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  Speaker 1: the palace of green porcelain, and from that I could
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  Speaker 1: get my bearings for the white Sphinx, and so leaving
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  Speaker 1: the remnant of these damned souls still going hither and
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  Speaker 1: thither and moaning. As the day grew clearer, I tied
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  Speaker 1: some grass about my feet and limped on across smoking
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  Speaker 1: ashes and among black stems that still pulsated internally with fire,
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  Speaker 1: towards the hiding place of the time machine. I walked slowly,
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  Speaker 1: for I was almost exhausted as well as lame, and
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  Speaker 1: I felt the intensest wretchedness for the horrible death of
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  Speaker 1: little Weena. It seemed an overwhelming calamity. Now in this old,
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  Speaker 1: familiar room, it is more like the sorrow of a
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  Speaker 1: dream than an actual loss. But that morning it left
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  Speaker 1: me absolutely lonely again, terribly alone. I began to think
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  Speaker 1: of this house of mine, of this fireside, of some
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  Speaker 1: of you, And with such thoughts came a longing that
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  Speaker 1: was pain. But as I walked over the smoking ashes
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  Speaker 1: under the bright morning sky, I made a discovery. In
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  Speaker 1: my trouser pocket were still some loose matches. The box
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  Speaker 1: must have leaked before it was lost. End of Chapter
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  Speaker 1: nine