Amazing Stories, August 1927 — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

442 In another moment the huge wave, well-nigh at the boiling-point, had rushed upon me. I screamed aloud, and scalded, half blinded, agonized, I stag- gered through the leaping, hissing water towards the shore. Had my foot stumbled it would have been the end. I fell helplessly, in full sight of the Martians, upon the broad, bare gravelly spit that rims down to mark the angle of the Wey and Thames, I expected nothing but death. I have: a dim memory of the foot of a Martian coming down within a score of yards of my head, driving straight into the loose gravel, whirling it this way and that, and lifting again; of a long sus- pense, and then of the four carrying the débris of their comrade between them, now clear, and then presently faint, through a veil of smoke, receding interminably, as it seemed to me, across a vast space of river and meadow. And then, very slowly, I realized that by a miracle I had escaped. CHAPTER XIII In London How I Fell In with the Curate FTER getting this sudden lesson in the power A of terrestrial weapons, the Martians retreat- ed to their original position upon Horsell Common, and in their haste, and encumbered with the débris of their smashed companion, they no doubt overlooked many such a stray and unneces- sary 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 de- stroyed Lisbon a century ago. But they were in no hurry. Cylinder followed cy]- inder in 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, work- ed 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 black- ened 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 Mar- tians now understood our command of artillery and the danger of human proximity, and not a man ven- tured within a mile of either cylinder, save at the price of his life. Tt would seem 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 upon Horsell Com- mon. Over that, above the blackened pieither and mained buildings that stretched far | _ tinted with the mid ZONE AMAZING STORIES 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 Mer- row, and even, it is said, from Banstead and Epsom Downs. And while the Martians behind me were thus pre- paring for their next sally, and in front of me Hu- manity gathered for the battle, I made my way, with infinite pains and labor, from the fire and smoke of burning Weybridge towards London. I saw an abandoned boat, very small and remote, drifting down-stream, and, throwing off the most of my sodden clothes, I went after it, gained it, and so escaped out of that destruction. There were no oars in the boat, but I contrived to paddle, as much as my parboiled hands would allow, down the river towards Halliford and Walton, going very tediously, and continually looking behind me, as you may well understand. I followed the river because I consid- ered the water gave me my best chance of escape, should these giants return. The hot water from the Martian’s overthrow drifted down-stream with me, so that for the best part of a mile I could see little of either bank. Once, however, I made out a string of black figures hurry- ing across the meadows from the direction of Wey- bridge. Halliford, it seemed, was quite deserted, and several of the houses facing the river were on fire. It was strange to see the place quite tranquil, quite desolate under the hot blue sky, with the smoke and little threads of flame going straight up into the heat of the afternoon. Never before had I seen houses burning without the accompaniment of an inconvenient crowd. A little further on the dry reeds up the bank were smoking and glowing, and a line of fire inland was marching steadily across a late field of hay. For a long time I drifted, so painful and weary was I after the violence I had been through, and so intense the heat upon the water. Then my fears got the better of me again, and I resumed my pad- dling. The sun scorched my bare back. At last, as the bridge at Walton was coming into sight round the bend, my fever and faintness overcame my fears and I landed on the Middlesex bank, and lay down, deadly sick, amidst the long grass. I suppose the time was then about four or five o’clock. I got up presently, walked perhaps half a mile without meet- ing a soul, and then lay down again in the shadow of a hedge. I seem to remember talking wander- ingly to myself during that last spurt. I was also very thirsty, and bitterly regretful I had drunk no more water. It is a curious thing that I felt angry with my wife; I cannot account for it, but my im- potent desire to reach Leatherhead worried me ex- cessively. I DO not clearly remember the arrival of the curate, so that I probably dozed. I became aware of him as a seated figure in soot-smudged shirt- — sleeves, and with his upturned clean-shaven face staring at a faint flickering that danced over the sky. The sky was what is called a mackerel sky, rows and rows of faint coep ens | of 6) oud, just com