CHAPTER TWO THE FALLING STAR
Then came the night of the first falling star.
It was seen early in the morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, a line of flame
high in the atmosphere.
Hundreds must have seen it, and taken it for an ordinary falling star.
Albin described it as leaving a greenish streak behind it that glowed for some seconds.
Denning, our greatest authority on meteorites, stated that the height of its first appearance
was about ninety or one hundred miles.
It seemed to him that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him.
I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; and although my French windows face
towards Ottershaw and the blind was up (for I loved in those days to look up at the night
sky), I saw nothing of it.
Yet this strangest of all things that ever came to earth from outer space must have fallen
while I was sitting there, visible to me had I only looked up as it passed.
Some of those who saw its flight say it travelled with a hissing sound.
I myself heard nothing of that.
Many people in Berkshire, Surrey, and Middlesex must have seen the fall of it, and, at most,
have thought that another meteorite had descended.
No one seems to have troubled to look for the fallen mass that night.
But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen the shooting star and who was
persuaded that a meteorite lay somewhere on the common between Horsell, Ottershaw, and
Woking, rose early with the idea of finding it.
Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not far from the sand pits.
An enormous hole had been made by the impact of the projectile, and the sand and gravel
had been flung violently in every direction over the heath, forming heaps visible a mile
and a half away.
The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose against the dawn.
The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst the scattered splinters of
a fir tree it had shivered to fragments in its descent.
The uncovered part had the appearance of a huge cylinder, caked over and its outline
softened by a thick scaly dun-coloured incrustation.
It had a diameter of about thirty yards.
He approached the mass, surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since most meteorites
are rounded more or less completely.
It was, however, still so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near approach.
A stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to the unequal cooling of its surface; for
at that time it had not occurred to him that it might be hollow.
He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the Thing had made for itself, staring
at its strange appearance, astonished chiefly at its unusual shape and colour, and dimly
perceiving even then some evidence of design in its arrival.
The early morning was wonderfully still, and the sun, just clearing the pine trees towards
Weybridge, was already warm.
He did not remember hearing any birds that morning, there was certainly no breeze stirring,
and the only sounds were the faint movements from within the cindery cylinder.
He was all alone on the common.
Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the grey clinker, the ashy incrustation
that covered the meteorite, was falling off the circular edge of the end.
It was dropping off in flakes and raining down upon the sand.
A large piece suddenly came off and fell with a sharp noise that brought his heart into
his mouth.
For a minute he scarcely realised what this meant, and, although the heat was excessive,
he clambered down into the pit close to the bulk to see the Thing more clearly.
He fancied even then that the cooling of the body might account for this, but what disturbed
that idea was the fact that the ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder.
And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circular top of the cylinder was rotating
on its body.
It was such a gradual movement that he discovered it only through noticing that a black mark
that had been near him five minutes ago was now at the other side of the circumference.
Even then he scarcely understood what this indicated, until he heard a muffled grating
sound and saw the black mark jerk forward an inch or so.
Then the thing came upon him in a flash.
The cylinder was artificial--hollow--with an end that screwed out!
Something within the cylinder was unscrewing the top!
"Good heavens!" said Ogilvy.
"There's a man in it--men in it!
Half roasted to death!
Trying to escape!"
At once, with a quick mental leap, he linked the Thing with the flash upon Mars.
The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to him that he forgot the heat and
went forward to the cylinder to help turn.
But luckily the dull radiation arrested him before he could burn his hands on the still-glowing
metal.
At that he stood irresolute for a moment, then turned, scrambled out of the pit, and
set off running wildly into Woking.
The time then must have been somewhere about six o'clock.
He met a waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he told and his appearance were
so wild--his hat had fallen off in the pit--that the man simply drove on.
He was equally unsuccessful with the potman who was just unlocking the doors of the public-house
by Horsell Bridge.
The fellow thought he was a lunatic at large and made an unsuccessful attempt to shut him
into the taproom.
That sobered him a little; and when he saw Henderson, the London journalist, in his garden,
he called over the palings and made himself understood.
"Henderson," he called, "you saw that shooting star last night?"
"Well?" said Henderson.
"It's out on Horsell Common now."
"Good Lord!" said Henderson.
"Fallen meteorite!
That's good."
"But it's something more than a meteorite.
It's a cylinder--an artificial cylinder, man!
And there's something inside."
Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand.
"What's that?" he said.
He was deaf in one ear.
Ogilvy told him all that he had seen.
Henderson was a minute or so taking it in.
Then he dropped his spade, snatched up his jacket, and came out into the road.
The two men hurried back at once to the common, and found the cylinder still lying in the
same position.
But now the sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal showed between
the top and the body of the cylinder.
Air was either entering or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound.
They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a stick, and, meeting with no response,
they both concluded the man or men inside must be insensible or dead.
Of course the two were quite unable to do anything.
They shouted consolation and promises, and went off back to the town again to get help.
One can imagine them, covered with sand, excited and disordered, running up the little street
in the bright sunlight just as the shop folks were taking down their shutters and people
were opening their bedroom windows.
Henderson went into the railway station at once, in order to telegraph the news to London.
The newspaper articles had prepared men's minds for the reception of the idea.
By eight o'clock a number of boys and unemployed men had already started for the common to
see the "dead men from Mars."
That was the form the story took.
I heard of it first from my newspaper boy about a quarter to nine when I went out to
get my Daily Chronicle.
I was naturally startled, and lost no time in going out and across the Ottershaw bridge
to the sand pits.
CHAPTER THREE ON HORSELL COMMON
I found a little crowd of perhaps twenty people surrounding the huge hole in which the cylinder
lay.
I have already described the appearance of that colossal bulk, embedded in the ground.
The turf and gravel about it seemed charred as if by a sudden explosion.
No doubt its impact had caused a flash of fire.
Henderson and Ogilvy were not there.
I think they perceived that nothing was to be done for the present, and had gone away
to breakfast at Henderson's house.
There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of the Pit, with their feet dangling,
and amusing themselves--until I stopped them--by throwing stones at the giant mass.
After I had spoken to them about it, they began playing at "touch" in and out of the
group of bystanders.
Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbing gardener I employed sometimes, a girl carrying
a baby, Gregg the butcher and his little boy, and two or three loafers and golf caddies
who were accustomed to hang about the railway station.
There was very little talking.
Few of the common people in England had anything but the vaguest astronomical ideas in those
days.
Most of them were staring quietly at the big table like end of the cylinder, which was
still as Ogilvy and Henderson had left it.
I fancy the popular expectation of a heap of charred corpses was disappointed at this
inanimate bulk.
Some went away while I was there, and other people came.
I clambered into the pit and fancied I heard a faint movement under my feet.
The top had certainly ceased to rotate.
It was only when I got thus close to it that the strangeness of this object was at all
evident to me.
At the first glance it was really no more exciting than an overturned carriage or a
tree blown across the road.
Not so much so, indeed.
It looked like a rusty gas float.
It required a certain amount of scientific education to perceive that the grey scale
of the Thing was no common oxide, that the yellowish-white metal that gleamed in the
crack between the lid and the cylinder had an unfamiliar hue.
"Extra-terrestrial" had no meaning for most of the onlookers.
At that time it was quite clear in my own mind that the Thing had come from the planet
Mars, but I judged it improbable that it contained any living creature.
I thought the unscrewing might be automatic.
In spite of Ogilvy, I still believed that there were men in Mars.
My mind ran fancifully on the possibilities of its containing manuscript, on the difficulties
in translation that might arise, whether we should find coins and models in it, and so
forth.
Yet it was a little too large for assurance on this idea.
I felt an impatience to see it opened.
About eleven, as nothing seemed happening, I walked back, full of such thought, to my
home in Maybury.
But I found it difficult to get to work upon my abstract investigations.
In the afternoon the appearance of the common had altered very much.
The early editions of the evening papers had startled London with enormous headlines:
"A MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM MARS."
"REMARKABLE STORY FROM WOKING," and so forth.
In addition, Ogilvy's wire to the Astronomical Exchange had roused every observatory in the
three kingdoms.
There were half a dozen flies or more from the Woking station standing in the road by
the sand pits, a basket-chaise from Chobham, and a rather lordly carriage.
Besides that, there was quite a heap of bicycles.
In addition, a large number of people must have walked, in spite of the heat of the day,
from Woking and Chertsey, so that there was altogether quite a considerable crowd--one
or two gaily dressed ladies among the others.
It was glaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky nor a breath of wind, and the only shadow
was that of the few scattered pine trees.
The burning heather had been extinguished, but the level ground towards Ottershaw was
blackened as far as one could see, and still giving off vertical streamers of smoke.
An enterprising sweet-stuff dealer in the Chobham Road had sent up his son with a barrow-load
of green apples and ginger beer.
Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by a group of about half a dozen men--Henderson,
Ogilvy, and a tall, fair-haired man that I afterwards learned was Stent, the Astronomer
Royal, with several workmen wielding spades and pickaxes.
Stent was giving directions in a clear, high-pitched voice.
He was standing on the cylinder, which was now evidently much cooler; his face was crimson
and streaming with perspiration, and something seemed to have irritated him.
A large portion of the cylinder had been uncovered, though its lower end was still embedded.
As soon as Ogilvy saw me among the staring crowd on the edge of the pit he called to
me to come down, and asked me if I would mind going over to see Lord Hilton, the lord of
the manor.
The growing crowd, he said, was becoming a serious impediment to their excavations, especially
the boys.
They wanted a light railing put up, and help to keep the people back.
He told me that a faint stirring was occasionally still audible within the case, but that the
workmen had failed to unscrew the top, as it afforded no grip to them.
The case appeared to be enormously thick, and it was possible that the faint sounds
we heard represented a noisy tumult in the interior.
I was very glad to do as he asked, and so become one of the privileged spectators within
the contemplated enclosure.
I failed to find Lord Hilton at his house, but I was told he was expected from London
by the six o'clock train from Waterloo; and as it was then about a quarter past five,
I went home, had some tea, and walked up to the station to waylay him.
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