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10 - The War of The Worlds - H G Wells · Classic Adventure Books - Daily

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  Speaker 1: Chapter ten in the Storm. Leatherhead is about twelve miles
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  Speaker 1: from Maybury Hill. The scent of hay was in the
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  Speaker 1: air through the lush meadows beyond Purfored, and the hedges
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  Speaker 1: on either side were sweet and gay with multitudes of
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  Speaker 1: dog roses. The heavy firing that had broken out while
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  Speaker 1: we were driving down Maybury Hill ceased as abruptly as
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  Speaker 1: it began, leaving the evening very peaceful and still. We
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  Speaker 1: got to Leatherhead without misadventure about nine o'clock, and the
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  Speaker 1: horse had an hour's rest while I took supper with
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  Speaker 1: my cousins and commended my wife to their care. My
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  Speaker 1: wife was curiously silent throughout the drive and seemed oppressed
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  Speaker 1: with forebodings of evil. I talked to her reassuringly, pointing
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  Speaker 1: out that the Martians were tied to the pit by
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  Speaker 1: sheer heaviness, and the utmost could but crawl a little
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  Speaker 1: out of it. But she answered only in monosyllables. Had
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  Speaker 1: it not been for my promise to the innkeeper, she would,
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  Speaker 1: I think, have urged me to stay in Leatherhead that night,
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  Speaker 1: Would that I had her face, I remember, was very white.
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  Speaker 1: As we parted for my own part. I had been
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  Speaker 1: feverishly excited all day, something very like the war fever
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  Speaker 1: that occasionally runs through a civilized community had got into
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  Speaker 1: my blood and in my heart. I was not so
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  Speaker 1: very sorry that I had to return to Maybury that night.
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  Speaker 1: I was even afraid that that last fusillade I had
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  Speaker 1: heard might mean the extermination of our invaders from Mars.
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  Speaker 1: I can best express my state of mind by saying
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  Speaker 1: that I wanted to be in at the death. It
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  Speaker 1: was nearly eleven when I started to return. The night
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  Speaker 1: was unexpectedly dark. To me walking out of the lighted
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  Speaker 1: passage of my cousin's house, it seemed indeed black, and
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  Speaker 1: it was as hot and close as the day. Overhead,
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  Speaker 1: the clouds were driving fast, albeit not a breath stirred
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  Speaker 1: the shrubs about us. My cousin's man lit both lamps happily,
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  Speaker 1: I knew the road intimately. My wife stood in the
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  Speaker 1: light of the doorway and watched me until I jumped
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  Speaker 1: up into the dog cart. Then abruptly she turned and
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  Speaker 1: went in, leaving my cousin's side by side, wishing me
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  Speaker 1: good hab. I was a little depressed at first with
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  Speaker 1: the contagion of my wife's fears, But very soon my
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  Speaker 1: thoughts reverted to the Martians. At that time I was
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  Speaker 1: absolutely in the dark as to the course of the
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  Speaker 1: evening's fighting. I did not know even the circumstances that
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  Speaker 1: had precipitated the conflict. As I came through Ocumbe, for
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  Speaker 1: that was the way I returned, and not through Send
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  Speaker 1: and Old Woking, I saw along the western horizon a
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  Speaker 1: blood red glow, which, as I drew nearer, crept slowly
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  Speaker 1: up the sky. The driving clouds of the gathering thunder
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  Speaker 1: storm mingled there with masses of black and red smoke.
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  Speaker 1: Ripley Street was deserted, and except for a lighted window
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  Speaker 1: or so, the village showed not a sign of life.
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  Speaker 1: But I narrowly escaped an accident at the corner of
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  Speaker 1: the road to Perford, where a knot of people stood
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  Speaker 1: with their backs to me. They said nothing to me
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  Speaker 1: as I passed. I do not know what they knew
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  Speaker 1: of the things happening beyond the hill, Nor do I
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  Speaker 1: know of the silent houses I passed on my way
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  Speaker 1: were sleeping securely or deserted and empty, or harassed and
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  Speaker 1: watching against the terror of the night. From Ripley until
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  Speaker 1: I came through Perford. I was in the valley of
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  Speaker 1: the way, and the red glare was hidden from me.
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  Speaker 1: As I ascended the little hill beyond Perfered Church, the
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  Speaker 1: glare came into view again, and the trees about me
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  Speaker 1: shivered with the first intimation of the storm that was
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  Speaker 1: upon me. Then I heard midnight peeling out from Perfect
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  Speaker 1: Church behind me, and then came the silhouette of Maybury Hill,
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  Speaker 1: with its tree tops and roofs black and sharp against
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  Speaker 1: the red. Even as I beheld this, a lurid green
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  Speaker 1: glare lit the road about me and showed the distant
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  Speaker 1: woods towards Addleston. I felt a tug at the reins.
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  Speaker 1: I saw that the driving clouds had been pierced, as
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  Speaker 1: it were, by a thread of green fire, suddenly lighting
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  Speaker 1: their confusion and falling into the field. To my left.
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  Speaker 1: It was the third falling star, close on its apparition
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  Speaker 1: and blindingly violet. By contrast, danced out the first lightning
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  Speaker 1: of the gathering storm, and the thunder burst like a
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  Speaker 1: rocket overhead. The horse took the bit between his teeth
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  Speaker 1: and bolted. A moderate incline runs towards the foot of
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  Speaker 1: Maybury Hill and down this we clattered. Once the lightning
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  Speaker 1: had begun, it went on in as rapid a succession
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  Speaker 1: of flashes as I have ever seen. The thunderclaps treading
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  Speaker 1: one on the heels of another, and with a strange
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  Speaker 1: crackling accompaniment, sounded more like the working of a giant
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  Speaker 1: electric machine than the usual detonating reverberations. The flickering light
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  Speaker 1: was blinding and confusing, and a thin hail smote gustily
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  Speaker 1: at my face as I drove down the slope. At
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  Speaker 1: first I regarded little but the road before me, and
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  Speaker 1: then abruptly my attention was arrested by something that was
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  Speaker 1: moving rapidly down the opposite slope of Maybury Hill. At
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  Speaker 1: first I took it for the wet roof of a house,
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  Speaker 1: but one flash following another showed it to be in swift,
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  Speaker 1: rolling movement. It was an elusive vision, a moment of
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  Speaker 1: bewildering darkness, and then in a flash like daylight, the
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  Speaker 1: red masses of the orphanage near the crest of the hill,
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  Speaker 1: the green tops of the pine trees, and this problematical
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  Speaker 1: object came out clear and sharp and bright. And this
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  Speaker 1: thing I saw, how can I describe it? A monstrous
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  Speaker 1: tripod higher than many houses, striding over the young pine
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  Speaker 1: trees and smashing them aside in its career. A walking
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  Speaker 1: engine of glittering metal striding now across the heather, articulate
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  Speaker 1: ropes of steel dangling from it, and the clattering tumult
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  Speaker 1: of its passage mingling with the riot of the thunder.
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  Speaker 1: A flash, and it came out, vividly, heeling over one
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  Speaker 1: way with two feet in the air, to vanish and reappear,
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  Speaker 1: almost instantly, as it seemed with the next flash a
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  Speaker 1: hundred yards nearer. Can you imagine a milking stool tilted
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  Speaker 1: and bowled violently along the ground. That was the impression
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  Speaker 1: those instant flashes gave. But instead of a milking stool,
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  Speaker 1: imagine it a great body of machinery on a tripod stand.
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  Speaker 1: Then suddenly the trees in the pine wood ahead of
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  Speaker 1: me were parted as brittle reeds are parted by a
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  Speaker 1: man thrusting through them. They were snapped off and driven headlong,
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  Speaker 1: and a second huge tripod appeared, rushing as it seemed,
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  Speaker 1: headlong towards me, and I was galloping hard to meet it,
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  Speaker 1: not stopping to look again. I wrenched the horse's head
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  Speaker 1: hard round the right, and in another moment the dog
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  Speaker 1: cart had heeled over upon the horse. The shafts smashed noisily,
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  Speaker 1: and I was flung sideways and fell heavily into a
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  Speaker 1: shallow pool of water. I crawled out almost immediately and
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  Speaker 1: crouched my feet still in the water under a clump
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  Speaker 1: of firs. The horse lay motionless, his neck was broken,
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  Speaker 1: poor brute, And by the lightning flow, I saw the
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  Speaker 1: black bulk of the overturned dog cart and the silhouette
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  Speaker 1: of the wheel still spinning slowly. In another moment, the
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  Speaker 1: colossal mechanism went striding by me and passed uphill towards Purford.
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  Speaker 1: Seen nearer, the thing was incredibly strange, for it was
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  Speaker 1: no mere insensate machine driving on its way machine. It
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  Speaker 1: was with a ringing metallic pace and long, flexible, glittering tentacles,
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  Speaker 1: one of which gripped a young pine tree, swinging and
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  Speaker 1: rattling about its strange body. It picked its road as
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  Speaker 1: it went striding along, and the brazen hood that surmounted
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  Speaker 1: it moved to and fro with the inevitable suggestion of
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  Speaker 1: a head. Looking about behind the main body was a
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  Speaker 1: huge mass of white metal like a gigantic fisherman's basket,
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  Speaker 1: and puffs of green smoke squirted out from the joints
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  Speaker 1: of the limbs as the creature swept by me, and
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  Speaker 1: in an instant it was gone so much I saw then,
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  Speaker 1: all vaguely for the flickering of the lightning in blinding
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  Speaker 1: highlights and dense black shadows. As it passed, it set
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  Speaker 1: up an exultant, deafening howl that drowned the thunder. Allo Allo.
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  Speaker 1: And in another minute it was with its companion half
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  Speaker 1: a mile away, stooping over something in the field. I
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  Speaker 1: have no doubt this thing in the field was the
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  Speaker 1: third of the ten cylinders they had fired at us
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  Speaker 1: from Mars. For some minutes I lay there in the
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  Speaker 1: rain and darkness, watching by the intermittent light these monstrous
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  Speaker 1: beings of metal moving about in the distance over the hedgetops.
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  Speaker 1: A thin hail was now beginning, and as it came
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  Speaker 1: and went, their figures grew misty, and then flashed into
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  Speaker 1: clearness again. Now and then came a gap in the light,
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  Speaker 1: and the night swallowed them up. I was soaked with
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  Speaker 1: hail above and puddle water below. It was some time
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  Speaker 1: before my blank astonishment would let me struggle up the
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  Speaker 1: bank to a drier position, or think at all of
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  Speaker 1: my imminent peril. Not far from me was a little
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  Speaker 1: one roomed squatter's hut of wood, surrounded by a patch
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  Speaker 1: of potato garden. I struggled to my feet at last,
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  Speaker 1: and crouching and making use of every chance of cover,
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  Speaker 1: I made a run for this. I hammered at the door,
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  Speaker 1: but I could not make the people here, if there
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  Speaker 1: were any people inside, And after a time I desisted, and,
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  Speaker 1: availing myself of a ditch for the greater part of
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  Speaker 1: the way, succeeded in crawling, unobserved by these monstrous machines,
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  Speaker 1: into the pine woods towards Maybury. Under cover of this,
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  Speaker 1: I pushed on, wet and shivering, now towards my own house.
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  Speaker 1: I walked among the trees, trying to find the footpath.
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  Speaker 1: It was very dark indeed in the wood, for the
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  Speaker 1: lightning was now becoming infrequent, and the hail, which was
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  Speaker 1: pouring down in a torrent, fell in columns through the
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  Speaker 1: gaps in the heavy foliage. If I had fully realized
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  Speaker 1: the meaning of all the things I had seen, I
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  Speaker 1: should have immediately worked my way round through byfleet to Street, Cobham,
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  Speaker 1: and so gone back to rejoin my wife at Leatherhead.
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  Speaker 1: But that night the strangeness of things about me and
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  Speaker 1: my physical wretchedness prevented me. For I was bruised, weary,
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  Speaker 1: wet to the skin, deafened and blinded by the storm.
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  Speaker 1: I had a vague idea of going on to my
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  Speaker 1: own house, and that was as much motive as I had.
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  Speaker 1: I staggered through the trees, fell into a ditch and
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  Speaker 1: bruised my knees against a plank, and finally splashed out
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  Speaker 1: into the lane that ran down from the College Arms.
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  Speaker 1: I said splashed, for the storm water was sweeping the
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  Speaker 1: sand down the hill in a muddy torrent. There in
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  Speaker 1: the darkness, a man blundered into me and sent me
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  Speaker 1: reeling back. He gave a cry of terror, sprang sideways,
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  Speaker 1: and rushed on before I could gather my wits sufficiently
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  Speaker 1: to speak to him. So heavy was the stress of
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  Speaker 1: this storm just at this place that I had the
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  Speaker 1: hardest task to win my way up the hill. I
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  Speaker 1: went close up to the fence on the left and
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  Speaker 1: worked my way along its palings. Near the top, I
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  Speaker 1: stumbled upon something soft, and by a flash of lightning
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  Speaker 1: saw between my feet a heap of black broadcloth and
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  Speaker 1: a pair of boots. Before I could distinguish clearly how
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  Speaker 1: the man lay, the flicker of light had passed. I
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  Speaker 1: stood over him, waiting for the next flash. When it came,
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  Speaker 1: I saw that he was a sturdy man, cheaply but
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  Speaker 1: not shabbily dressed. His head was bare under his body,
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  Speaker 1: and he lay crumpled up close to the fence, as
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  Speaker 1: though he had been flung violently against it. Overcoming the
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  Speaker 1: repugnance natural to one who had never before touched a
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  Speaker 1: dead body, I stooped and turned him over to feel
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  Speaker 1: for his heart. He was quite dead. Apparently his neck
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  Speaker 1: had been broken. The lightning flashed for a third time,
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  Speaker 1: and his face leaped upon me. I sprang to my feet.
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  Speaker 1: It was the landlord of the spotted dog, whose conveyance
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  Speaker 1: I had taken. I stepped over him gingerly, and pushed
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  Speaker 1: on up the hill. I made my way by the
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  Speaker 1: police station and the college arms towards my own house.
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  Speaker 1: Nothing was burning on the hillside, though from the common
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  Speaker 1: there still came a red glare and a rolling tumult
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  Speaker 1: of ruddy smoke beating up against the drenching hail. So
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  Speaker 1: far as I could see by the flashes, the houses
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  Speaker 1: about me were mostly uninjured by the college arm. A
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  Speaker 1: dark heap lay in the road. Down the road towards
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  Speaker 1: Maybury Bridge, there were voices and the sound of feet,
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  Speaker 1: but I had not the courage to shout or to
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  Speaker 1: go to them. I let myself in with my latch
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  Speaker 1: key closed, locked and bolted the door, staggered to the
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  Speaker 1: foot of the staircase and sat down. My imagination was
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  Speaker 1: full of those striding metallic monsters, and of the dead
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  Speaker 1: body smashed against the fence. I crouched at the foot
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  Speaker 1: of the staircase with my back to the wall, shivering violently.
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  Speaker 1: End of Section ten.