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diff --git a/old/1013-0.txt b/old/1013-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 699ee17..0000000 --- a/old/1013-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7745 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1013 *** - -[Illustration] - - - - -The First Men In The Moon - -by H. G. Wells - - -Contents - - I. Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne - II. The First Making of Cavorite - III. The Building of the sphere - IV. Inside the Sphere - V. The Journey to the Moon - VI. The Landing on the Moon - VII. Sunrise on the Moon - VIII. A Lunar Morning - IX. Prospecting Begins - X. Lost Men in the Moon - XI. The Mooncalf Pastures - XII. The Selenite’s Face - XIII. Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions - XIV. Experiments in intercourse - XV. The Giddy Bridge - XVI. Points of View - XVII. The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers - XVIII. In the Sunlight - XIX. Mr. Bedford Alone - XX. Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space - XXI. Mr. Bedford at Littlestone - XXII. The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee - XXIII. An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor - XXIV. The Natural History of the Selenites - XXV. The Grand Lunar - XXVI. The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth - - - - -I. -Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne - - -As I sit down to write here amidst the shadows of vine-leaves under the -blue sky of southern Italy, it comes to me with a certain quality of -astonishment that my participation in these amazing adventures of Mr. -Cavor was, after all, the outcome of the purest accident. It might have -been any one. I fell into these things at a time when I thought myself -removed from the slightest possibility of disturbing experiences. I had -gone to Lympne because I had imagined it the most uneventful place in -the world. “Here, at any rate,” said I, “I shall find peace and a -chance to work!” - -And this book is the sequel. So utterly at variance is destiny with all -the little plans of men. I may perhaps mention here that very recently -I had come an ugly cropper in certain business enterprises. Sitting now -surrounded by all the circumstances of wealth, there is a luxury in -admitting my extremity. I can admit, even, that to a certain extent my -disasters were conceivably of my own making. It may be there are -directions in which I have some capacity, but the conduct of business -operations is not among these. But in those days I was young, and my -youth among other objectionable forms took that of a pride in my -capacity for affairs. I am young still in years, but the things that -have happened to me have rubbed something of the youth from my mind. -Whether they have brought any wisdom to light below it is a more -doubtful matter. - -It is scarcely necessary to go into the details of the speculations -that landed me at Lympne, in Kent. Nowadays even about business -transactions there is a strong spice of adventure. I took risks. In -these things there is invariably a certain amount of give and take, and -it fell to me finally to do the giving reluctantly enough. Even when I -had got out of everything, one cantankerous creditor saw fit to be -malignant. Perhaps you have met that flaming sense of outraged virtue, -or perhaps you have only felt it. He ran me hard. It seemed to me, at -last, that there was nothing for it but to write a play, unless I -wanted to drudge for my living as a clerk. I have a certain -imagination, and luxurious tastes, and I meant to make a vigorous fight -for it before that fate overtook me. In addition to my belief in my -powers as a business man, I had always in those days had an idea that I -was equal to writing a very good play. It is not, I believe, a very -uncommon persuasion. I knew there is nothing a man can do outside -legitimate business transactions that has such opulent possibilities, -and very probably that biased my opinion. I had, indeed, got into the -habit of regarding this unwritten drama as a convenient little reserve -put by for a rainy day. That rainy day had come, and I set to work. - -I soon discovered that writing a play was a longer business than I had -supposed; at first I had reckoned ten days for it, and it was to have a -_pied-à-terre_ while it was in hand that I came to Lympne. I reckoned -myself lucky in getting that little bungalow. I got it on a three -years’ agreement. I put in a few sticks of furniture, and while the -play was in hand I did my own cooking. My cooking would have shocked -Mrs. Bond. And yet, you know, it had flavour. I had a coffee-pot, a -sauce-pan for eggs, and one for potatoes, and a frying-pan for sausages -and bacon—such was the simple apparatus of my comfort. One cannot -always be magnificent, but simplicity is always a possible alternative. -For the rest I laid in an eighteen-gallon cask of beer on credit, and a -trustful baker came each day. It was not, perhaps, in the style of -Sybaris, but I have had worse times. I was a little sorry for the -baker, who was a very decent man indeed, but even for him I hoped. - -Certainly if any one wants solitude, the place is Lympne. It is in the -clay part of Kent, and my bungalow stood on the edge of an old sea -cliff and stared across the flats of Romney Marsh at the sea. In very -wet weather the place is almost inaccessible, and I have heard that at -times the postman used to traverse the more succulent portions of his -route with boards upon his feet. I never saw him doing so, but I can -quite imagine it. Outside the doors of the few cottages and houses that -make up the present village big birch besoms are stuck, to wipe off the -worst of the clay, which will give some idea of the texture of the -district. I doubt if the place would be there at all, if it were not a -fading memory of things gone for ever. It was the big port of England -in Roman times, Portus Lemanis, and now the sea is four miles away. All -down the steep hill are boulders and masses of Roman brickwork, and -from it old Watling Street, still paved in places, starts like an arrow -to the north. I used to stand on the hill and think of it all, the -galleys and legions, the captives and officials, the women and traders, -the speculators like myself, all the swarm and tumult that came -clanking in and out of the harbour. And now just a few lumps of rubble -on a grassy slope, and a sheep or two—and I. And where the port had -been were the levels of the marsh, sweeping round in a broad curve to -distant Dungeness, and dotted here and there with tree clumps and the -church towers of old mediæval towns that are following Lemanis now -towards extinction. - -That outlook on the marsh was, indeed, one of the finest views I have -ever seen. I suppose Dungeness was fifteen miles away; it lay like a -raft on the sea, and farther westward were the hills by Hastings under -the setting sun. Sometimes they hung close and clear, sometimes they -were faded and low, and often the drift of the weather took them clean -out of sight. And all the nearer parts of the marsh were laced and lit -by ditches and canals. - -The window at which I worked looked over the skyline of this crest, and -it was from this window that I first set eyes on Cavor. It was just as -I was struggling with my scenario, holding down my mind to the sheer -hard work of it, and naturally enough he arrested my attention. - -The sun had set, the sky was a vivid tranquillity of green and yellow, -and against that he came out black—the oddest little figure. - -He was a short, round-bodied, thin-legged little man, with a jerky -quality in his motions; he had seen fit to clothe his extraordinary -mind in a cricket cap, an overcoat, and cycling knickerbockers and -stockings. Why he did so I do not know, for he never cycled and he -never played cricket. It was a fortuitous concurrence of garments, -arising I know not how. He gesticulated with his hands and arms, and -jerked his head about and buzzed. He buzzed like something electric. -You never heard such buzzing. And ever and again he cleared his throat -with a most extraordinary noise. - -There had been rain, and that spasmodic walk of his was enhanced by the -extreme slipperiness of the footpath. Exactly as he came against the -sun he stopped, pulled out a watch, hesitated. Then with a sort of -convulsive gesture he turned and retreated with every manifestation of -haste, no longer gesticulating, but going with ample strides that -showed the relatively large size of his feet—they were, I remember, -grotesquely exaggerated in size by adhesive clay—to the best possible -advantage. - -This occurred on the first day of my sojourn, when my play-writing -energy was at its height and I regarded the incident simply as an -annoying distraction—the waste of five minutes. I returned to my -scenario. But when next evening the apparition was repeated with -remarkable precision, and again the next evening, and indeed every -evening when rain was not falling, concentration upon the scenario -became a considerable effort. “Confound the man,” I said, “one would -think he was learning to be a marionette!” and for several evenings I -cursed him pretty heartily. Then my annoyance gave way to amazement and -curiosity. Why on earth should a man do this thing? On the fourteenth -evening I could stand it no longer, and so soon as he appeared I opened -the french window, crossed the verandah, and directed myself to the -point where he invariably stopped. - -He had his watch out as I came up to him. He had a chubby, rubicund -face with reddish brown eyes—previously I had seen him only against the -light. “One moment, sir,” said I as he turned. He stared. “One moment,” -he said, “certainly. Or if you wish to speak to me for longer, and it -is not asking too much—your moment is up—would it trouble you to -accompany me?” - -“Not in the least,” said I, placing myself beside him. - -“My habits are regular. My time for intercourse—limited.” - -“This, I presume, is your time for exercise?” - -“It is. I come here to enjoy the sunset.” - -“You don’t.” - -“Sir?” - -“You never look at it.” - -“Never look at it?” - -“No. I’ve watched you thirteen nights, and not once have you looked at -the sunset—not once.” - -He knitted his brows like one who encounters a problem. - -“Well, I enjoy the sunlight—the atmosphere—I go along this path, -through that gate”—he jerked his head over his shoulder—“and round—” - -“You don’t. You never have been. It’s all nonsense. There isn’t a way. -To-night for instance—” - -“Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I -had already been out just three minutes over the precise half-hour, -decided there was not time to go round, turned—” - -“You always do.” - -He looked at me—reflected. “Perhaps I do, now I come to think of it. -But what was it you wanted to speak to me about?” - -“Why, this!” - -“This?” - -“Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise—” - -“Making a noise?” - -“Like this.” I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me, and it was -evident the buzzing awakened distaste. “Do I do _that?_” he asked. - -“Every blessed evening.” - -“I had no idea.” - -He stopped dead. He regarded me gravely. “Can it be,” he said, “that I -have formed a Habit?” - -“Well, it looks like it. Doesn’t it?” - -He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a -puddle at his feet. - -“My mind is much occupied,” he said. “And you want to know _why!_ Well, -sir, I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do these -things, but I did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is just -as you say; I never _have_ been beyond that field.... And these things -annoy you?” - -For some reason I was beginning to relent towards him. “Not _annoy_,” I -said. “But—imagine yourself writing a play!” - -“I couldn’t.” - -“Well, anything that needs concentration.” - -“Ah!” he said, “of course,” and meditated. His expression became so -eloquent of distress, that I relented still more. After all, there is a -touch of aggression in demanding of a man you don’t know why he hums on -a public footpath. - -“You see,” he said weakly, “it’s a habit.” - -“Oh, I recognise that.” - -“I must stop it.” - -“But not if it puts you out. After all, I had no business—it’s -something of a liberty.” - -“Not at all, sir,” he said, “not at all. I am greatly indebted to you. -I should guard myself against these things. In future I will. Could I -trouble you—once again? That noise?” - -“Something like this,” I said. “Zuzzoo, zuzzoo. But really, you know—” - -“I am greatly obliged to you. In fact, I know I am getting absurdly -absent-minded. You are quite justified, sir—perfectly justified. -Indeed, I am indebted to you. The thing shall end. And now, sir, I have -already brought you farther than I should have done.” - -“I do hope my impertinence—” - -“Not at all, sir, not at all.” - -We regarded each other for a moment. I raised my hat and wished him a -good evening. He responded convulsively, and so we went our ways. - -At the stile I looked back at his receding figure. His bearing had -changed remarkably, he seemed limp, shrunken. The contrast with his -former gesticulating, zuzzoing self took me in some absurd way as -pathetic. I watched him out of sight. Then wishing very heartily I had -kept to my own business, I returned to my bungalow and my play. - -The next evening I saw nothing of him, nor the next. But he was very -much in my mind, and it had occurred to me that as a sentimental comic -character he might serve a useful purpose in the development of my -plot. The third day he called upon me. - -For a time I was puzzled to think what had brought him. He made -indifferent conversation in the most formal way, then abruptly he came -to business. He wanted to buy me out of my bungalow. - -“You see,” he said, “I don’t blame you in the least, but you’ve -destroyed a habit, and it disorganises my day. I’ve walked past here -for years—years. No doubt I’ve hummed.... You’ve made all that -impossible!” - -I suggested he might try some other direction. - -“No. There is no other direction. This is the only one. I’ve inquired. -And now—every afternoon at four—I come to a dead wall.” - -“But, my dear sir, if the thing is so important to you—” - -“It’s vital. You see, I’m—I’m an investigator—I am engaged in a -scientific research. I live—” he paused and seemed to think. “Just over -there,” he said, and pointed suddenly dangerously near my eye. “The -house with white chimneys you see just over the trees. And my -circumstances are abnormal—abnormal. I am on the point of completing -one of the most important—demonstrations—I can assure you one of _the -most important_ demonstrations that have ever been made. It requires -constant thought, constant mental ease and activity. And the afternoon -was my brightest time!—effervescing with new ideas—new points of view.” - -“But why not come by still?” - -“It would be all different. I should be self-conscious. I should think -of you at your play—watching me irritated—instead of thinking of my -work. No! I must have the bungalow.” - -I meditated. Naturally, I wanted to think the matter over thoroughly -before anything decisive was said. I was generally ready enough for -business in those days, and selling always attracted me; but in the -first place it was not my bungalow, and even if I sold it to him at a -good price I might get inconvenienced in the delivery of goods if the -current owner got wind of the transaction, and in the second I was, -well—undischarged. It was clearly a business that required delicate -handling. Moreover, the possibility of his being in pursuit of some -valuable invention also interested me. It occurred to me that I would -like to know more of this research, not with any dishonest intention, -but simply with an idea that to know what it was would be a relief from -play-writing. I threw out feelers. - -He was quite willing to supply information. Indeed, once he was fairly -under way the conversation became a monologue. He talked like a man -long pent up, who has had it over with himself again and again. He -talked for nearly an hour, and I must confess I found it a pretty stiff -bit of listening. But through it all there was the undertone of -satisfaction one feels when one is neglecting work one has set oneself. -During that first interview I gathered very little of the drift of his -work. Half his words were technicalities entirely strange to me, and he -illustrated one or two points with what he was pleased to call -elementary mathematics, computing on an envelope with a copying-ink -pencil, in a manner that made it hard even to seem to understand. -“Yes,” I said, “yes. Go on!” Nevertheless I made out enough to convince -me that he was no mere crank playing at discoveries. In spite of his -crank-like appearance there was a force about him that made that -impossible. Whatever it was, it was a thing with mechanical -possibilities. He told me of a work-shed he had, and of three -assistants—originally jobbing carpenters—whom he had trained. Now, from -the work-shed to the patent office is clearly only one step. He invited -me to see those things. I accepted readily, and took care, by a remark -or so, to underline that. The proposed transfer of the bungalow -remained very conveniently in suspense. - -At last he rose to depart, with an apology for the length of his call. -Talking over his work was, he said, a pleasure enjoyed only too rarely. -It was not often he found such an intelligent listener as myself, he -mingled very little with professional scientific men. - -“So much pettiness,” he explained; “so much intrigue! And really, when -one has an idea—a novel, fertilising idea—I don’t want to be -uncharitable, but—” - -I am a man who believes in impulses. I made what was perhaps a rash -proposition. But you must remember, that I had been alone, play-writing -in Lympne, for fourteen days, and my compunction for his ruined walk -still hung about me. “Why not,” said I, “make this your new habit? In -the place of the one I spoilt? At least, until we can settle about the -bungalow. What you want is to turn over your work in your mind. That -you have always done during your afternoon walk. Unfortunately that’s -over—you can’t get things back as they were. But why not come and talk -about your work to me; use me as a sort of wall against which you may -throw your thoughts and catch them again? It’s certain I don’t know -enough to steal your ideas myself—and I know no scientific men—” - -I stopped. He was considering. Evidently the thing attracted him. “But -I’m afraid I should bore you,” he said. - -“You think I’m too dull?” - -“Oh, no; but technicalities—” - -“Anyhow, you’ve interested me immensely this afternoon.” - -“Of course it _would_ be a great help to me. Nothing clears up one’s -ideas so much as explaining them. Hitherto—” - -“My dear sir, say no more.” - -“But really can you spare the time?” - -“There is no rest like change of occupation,” I said, with profound -conviction. - -The affair was over. On my verandah steps he turned. “I am already -greatly indebted to you,” he said. - -I made an interrogative noise. - -“You have completely cured me of that ridiculous habit of humming,” he -explained. - -I think I said I was glad to be of any service to him, and he turned -away. - -Immediately the train of thought that our conversation had suggested -must have resumed its sway. His arms began to wave in their former -fashion. The faint echo of “zuzzoo” came back to me on the breeze.... - -Well, after all, that was not my affair.... - -He came the next day, and again the next day after that, and delivered -two lectures on physics to our mutual satisfaction. He talked with an -air of being extremely lucid about the “ether” and “tubes of force,” -and “gravitational potential,” and things like that, and I sat in my -other folding-chair and said, “Yes,” “Go on,” “I follow you,” to keep -him going. It was tremendously difficult stuff, but I do not think he -ever suspected how much I did not understand him. There were moments -when I doubted whether I was well employed, but at any rate I was -resting from that confounded play. Now and then things gleamed on me -clearly for a space, only to vanish just when I thought I had hold of -them. Sometimes my attention failed altogether, and I would give it up -and sit and stare at him, wondering whether, after all, it would not be -better to use him as a central figure in a good farce and let all this -other stuff slide. And then, perhaps, I would catch on again for a bit. - -At the earliest opportunity I went to see his house. It was large and -carelessly furnished; there were no servants other than his three -assistants, and his dietary and private life were characterised by a -philosophical simplicity. He was a water-drinker, a vegetarian, and all -those logical disciplinary things. But the sight of his equipment -settled many doubts. It looked like business from cellar to attic—an -amazing little place to find in an out-of-the-way village. The -ground-floor rooms contained benches and apparatus, the bakehouse and -scullery boiler had developed into respectable furnaces, dynamos -occupied the cellar, and there was a gasometer in the garden. He showed -it to me with all the confiding zest of a man who has been living too -much alone. His seclusion was overflowing now in an excess of -confidence, and I had the good luck to be the recipient. - -The three assistants were creditable specimens of the class of -“handy-men” from which they came. Conscientious if unintelligent, -strong, civil, and willing. One, Spargus, who did the cooking and all -the metal work, had been a sailor; a second, Gibbs, was a joiner; and -the third was an ex-jobbing gardener, and now general assistant. They -were the merest labourers. All the intelligent work was done by Cavor. -Theirs was the darkest ignorance compared even with my muddled -impression. - -And now, as to the nature of these inquiries. Here, unhappily, comes a -grave difficulty. I am no scientific expert, and if I were to attempt -to set forth in the highly scientific language of Mr. Cavor the aim to -which his experiments tended, I am afraid I should confuse not only the -reader but myself, and almost certainly I should make some blunder that -would bring upon me the mockery of every up-to-date student of -mathematical physics in the country. The best thing I can do therefore -is, I think to give my impressions in my own inexact language, without -any attempt to wear a garment of knowledge to which I have no claim. - -The object of Mr. Cavor’s search was a substance that should be -“opaque”—he used some other word I have forgotten, but “opaque” conveys -the idea—to “all forms of radiant energy.” “Radiant energy,” he made me -understand, was anything like light or heat, or those Röntgen Rays -there was so much talk about a year or so ago, or the electric waves of -Marconi, or gravitation. All these things, he said, _radiate_ out from -centres, and act on bodies at a distance, whence comes the term -“radiant energy.” Now almost all substances are opaque to some form or -other of radiant energy. Glass, for example, is transparent to light, -but much less so to heat, so that it is useful as a fire-screen; and -alum is transparent to light, but blocks heat completely. A solution of -iodine in carbon bisulphide, on the other hand, completely blocks -light, but is quite transparent to heat. It will hide a fire from you, -but permit all its warmth to reach you. Metals are not only opaque to -light and heat, but also to electrical energy, which passes through -both iodine solution and glass almost as though they were not -interposed. And so on. - -Now all known substances are “transparent” to gravitation. You can use -screens of various sorts to cut off the light or heat, or electrical -influence of the sun, or the warmth of the earth from anything; you can -screen things by sheets of metal from Marconi’s rays, but nothing will -cut off the gravitational attraction of the sun or the gravitational -attraction of the earth. Yet why there should be nothing is hard to -say. Cavor did not see why such a substance should not exist, and -certainly I could not tell him. I had never thought of such a -possibility before. He showed me by calculations on paper, which Lord -Kelvin, no doubt, or Professor Lodge, or Professor Karl Pearson, or any -of those great scientific people might have understood, but which -simply reduced me to a hopeless muddle, that not only was such a -substance possible, but that it must satisfy certain conditions. It was -an amazing piece of reasoning. Much as it amazed and exercised me at -the time, it would be impossible to reproduce it here. “Yes,” I said to -it all, “yes; go on!” Suffice it for this story that he believed he -might be able to manufacture this possible substance opaque to -gravitation out of a complicated alloy of metals and something new—a -new element, I fancy—called, I believe, _helium_, which was sent to him -from London in sealed stone jars. Doubt has been thrown upon this -detail, but I am almost certain it was _helium_ he had sent him in -sealed stone jars. It was certainly something very gaseous and thin. If -only I had taken notes... - -But then, how was I to foresee the necessity of taking notes? - -Any one with the merest germ of an imagination will understand the -extraordinary possibilities of such a substance, and will sympathise a -little with the emotion I felt as this understanding emerged from the -haze of abstruse phrases in which Cavor expressed himself. Comic relief -in a play indeed! It was some time before I would believe that I had -interpreted him aright, and I was very careful not to ask questions -that would have enabled him to gauge the profundity of misunderstanding -into which he dropped his daily exposition. But no one reading the -story of it here will sympathise fully, because from my barren -narrative it will be impossible to gather the strength of my conviction -that this astonishing substance was positively going to be made. - -I do not recall that I gave my play an hour’s consecutive work at any -time after my visit to his house. My imagination had other things to -do. There seemed no limit to the possibilities of the stuff; whichever -way I tried I came on miracles and revolutions. For example, if one -wanted to lift a weight, however enormous, one had only to get a sheet -of this substance beneath it, and one might lift it with a straw. My -first natural impulse was to apply this principle to guns and -ironclads, and all the material and methods of war, and from that to -shipping, locomotion, building, every conceivable form of human -industry. The chance that had brought me into the very birth-chamber of -this new time—it was an epoch, no less—was one of those chances that -come once in a thousand years. The thing unrolled, it expanded and -expanded. Among other things I saw in it my redemption as a business -man. I saw a parent company, and daughter companies, applications to -right of us, applications to left, rings and trusts, privileges, and -concessions spreading and spreading, until one vast, stupendous -Cavorite company ran and ruled the world. - -And I was in it! - -I took my line straight away. I knew I was staking everything, but I -jumped there and then. - -“We’re on absolutely the biggest thing that has ever been invented,” I -said, and put the accent on “we.” “If you want to keep me out of this, -you’ll have to do it with a gun. I’m coming down to be your fourth -labourer to-morrow.” - -He seemed surprised at my enthusiasm, but not a bit suspicious or -hostile. Rather, he was self-depreciatory. He looked at me doubtfully. -“But do you really think—?” he said. “And your play! How about that -play?” - -“It’s vanished!” I cried. “My dear sir, don’t you see what you’ve got? -Don’t you see what you’re going to do?” - -That was merely a rhetorical turn, but positively, he didn’t. At first -I could not believe it. He had not had the beginning of the inkling of -an idea. This astonishing little man had been working on purely -theoretical grounds the whole time! When he said it was “the most -important” research the world had ever seen, he simply meant it squared -up so many theories, settled so much that was in doubt; he had troubled -no more about the application of the stuff he was going to turn out -than if he had been a machine that makes guns. This was a possible -substance, and he was going to make it! _V’la tout_, as the Frenchman -says. - -Beyond that, he was childish! If he made it, it would go down to -posterity as Cavorite or Cavorine, and he would be made an F.R.S., and -his portrait given away as a scientific worthy with _Nature_, and -things like that. And that was all he saw! He would have dropped this -bombshell into the world as though he had discovered a new species of -gnat, if it had not happened that I had come along. And there it would -have lain and fizzled, like one or two other little things these -scientific people have lit and dropped about us. - -When I realised this, it was I did the talking, and Cavor who said, “Go -on!” I jumped up. I paced the room, gesticulating like a boy of twenty. -I tried to make him understand his duties and responsibilities in the -matter—_our_ duties and responsibilities in the matter. I assured him -we might make wealth enough to work any sort of social revolution we -fancied, we might own and order the whole world. I told him of -companies and patents, and the case for secret processes. All these -things seemed to take him much as his mathematics had taken me. A look -of perplexity came into his ruddy little face. He stammered something -about indifference to wealth, but I brushed all that aside. He had got -to be rich, and it was no good his stammering. I gave him to understand -the sort of man I was, and that I had had very considerable business -experience. I did not tell him I was an undischarged bankrupt at the -time, because that was temporary, but I think I reconciled my evident -poverty with my financial claims. And quite insensibly, in the way such -projects grow, the understanding of a Cavorite monopoly grew up between -us. He was to make the stuff, and I was to make the boom. - -I stuck like a leech to the “we”—“you” and “I” didn’t exist for me. - -His idea was that the profits I spoke of might go to endow research, -but that, of course, was a matter we had to settle later. “That’s all -right,” I shouted, “that’s all right.” The great point, as I insisted, -was to get the thing done. - -“Here is a substance,” I cried, “no home, no factory, no fortress, no -ship can dare to be without—more universally applicable even than a -patent medicine. There isn’t a solitary aspect of it, not one of its -ten thousand possible uses that will not make us rich, Cavor, beyond -the dreams of avarice!” - -“No!” he said. “I begin to see. It’s extraordinary how one gets new -points of view by talking over things!” - -“And as it happens you have just talked to the right man!” - -“I suppose no one,” he said, “is absolutely _averse_ to enormous -wealth. Of course there is one thing—” - -He paused. I stood still. - -“It is just possible, you know, that we may not be able to make it -after all! It may be one of those things that are a theoretical -possibility, but a practical absurdity. Or when we make it, there may -be some little hitch!” - -“We’ll tackle the hitch when it comes,” said I. - - - - -II. -The First Making of Cavorite - - -But Cavor’s fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was -concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was -made! - -Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least -expected it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other -things—I wish I knew the particulars now!—and he intended to leave the -mixture a week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had -miscalculated, the last stage in the combination would occur when the -stuff sank to a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But it chanced -that, unknown to Cavor, dissension had arisen about the furnace -tending. Gibbs, who had previously seen to this, had suddenly attempted -to shift it to the man who had been a gardener, on the score that coal -was soil, being dug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the -province of a joiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, -however, that coal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that -he was cook. But Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing -that he was a joiner and that coal is notoriously fossil wood. -Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish the furnace, and no one else did -so, and Cavor was too much immersed in certain interesting problems -concerning a Cavorite flying machine (neglecting the resistance of the -air and one or two other points) to perceive that anything was wrong. -And the premature birth of his invention took place just as he was -coming across the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea. - -I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, -and everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought -me out upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against -the autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just -rose above a gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden -Hills, faint and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out -spacious and serene. And then— - -The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as -they rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then -overtaking them came a huge white flame. The trees about the building -swayed and whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towards -the flare. My ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left me -deaf on one side for life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded. - -I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even as -I did so came the wind. - -Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in -great leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the -same moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through -the screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within -six yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great strides -towards the focus of the disturbance. Cavor, kicking and flapping, came -down again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggled -up and was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishing -at last among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his -house. - -A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance -rushed up towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing -past me, dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the -worst was over. The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere -strong gale, and I became once more aware that I had breath and feet. -By leaning back against the wind I managed to stop, and could collect -such wits as still remained to me. - -In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil -sunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything -was flattened and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my -bungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwards -towards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whose -tall and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house. - -I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to -them, and for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of -smashed branches and fencing that had banked itself against a portion -of his garden wall I perceived something stir. I made a run for this, -but before I reached it a brown object separated itself, rose on two -muddy legs, and protruded two drooping, bleeding hands. Some tattered -ends of garment fluttered out from its middle portion and streamed -before the wind. - -For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that -it was Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward -against the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth. - -He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His -face worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He -looked as damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, -and his remark therefore amazed me exceedingly. - -“Gratulate me,” he gasped; “gratulate me!” - -“Congratulate you!” said I. “Good heavens! What for?” - -“I’ve done it.” - -“You _have_. What on earth caused that explosion?” - -A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it -wasn’t an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, -and we stood clinging to one another. - -“Try and get back—to my bungalow,” I bawled in his ear. He did not hear -me, and shouted something about “three martyrs—science,” and also -something about “not much good.” At the time he laboured under the -impression that his three attendants had perished in the whirlwind. -Happily this was incorrect. Directly he had left for my bungalow they -had gone off to the public-house in Lympne to discuss the question of -the furnaces over some trivial refreshment. - -I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time -he understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to -reach the shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat -in arm-chairs and panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter -articles of furniture were in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage -was done. Happily the kitchen door had stood the pressure upon it, so -that all my crockery and cooking materials had survived. The oil stove -was still burning, and I put on the water to boil again for tea. And -that prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation. - -“Quite correct,” he insisted; “quite correct. I’ve done it, and it’s -all right.” - -“But,” I protested. “All right! Why, there can’t be a rick standing, or -a fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles round....” - -“It’s all right—_really_. I didn’t, of course, foresee this little -upset. My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and I’m apt to -disregard these practical side issues. But it’s all right—” - -“My dear sir,” I cried, “don’t you see you’ve done thousands of pounds’ -worth of damage?” - -“There, I throw myself on your discretion. I’m not a practical man, of -course, but don’t you think they will regard it as a cyclone?” - -“But the explosion—” - -“It was _not_ an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. Only, as I say, I’m -apt to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo business on a -larger scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this -Cavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....” - -He paused. “You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to -gravitation, that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each -other?” - -“Yes,” said I. “Yes.” - -“Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, -and the process of its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the -portions of roof and ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. -I suppose you know—everybody knows nowadays—that, as a usual thing, the -air _has_ weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the -earth, presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a -half pounds to the square inch?” - -“I know that,” said I. “Go on.” - -“I know that too,” he remarked. “Only this shows you how useless -knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this -ceased to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and -the air round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of -fourteen pounds and a half to the square inch upon this suddenly -weightless air. Ah! you begin to see! The air all about the Cavorite -crushed in upon the air above it with irresistible force. The air above -the Cavorite was forced upward violently, the air that rushed in to -replace it immediately lost weight, ceased to exert any pressure, -followed suit, blew the ceiling through and the roof off.... - -“You perceive,” he said, “it formed a sort of atmospheric fountain, a -kind of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself hadn’t -been loose and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you what -would have happened?” - -I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up and up -over that infernal piece of stuff now.” - -“Precisely,” he said. “A huge fountain—” - -“Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the -atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It -would have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff!” - -“Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but as bad—practically. It would -have whipped the air off the world as one peels a banana, and flung it -thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of course—but on -an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little better than if -it never came back!” - -I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations -had been upset. “What do you mean to do now?” I asked. - -“In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some -of this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself -of your domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will -converse more at leisure. It will be wise, I think”—he laid a muddy -hand on my arm—“if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I -know I have caused great damage—probably even dwelling-houses may be -ruined here and there upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I -cannot possibly pay for the damage I have done, and if the real cause -of this is published, it will lead only to heartburning and the -obstruction of my work. One cannot foresee _everything_, you know, and -I cannot consent for one moment to add the burthen of practical -considerations to my theorising. Later on, when you have come in with -your practical mind, and Cavorite is floated—floated _is_ the word, -isn’t it?—and it has realised all you anticipate for it, we may set -matters right with these persons. But not now—not now. If no other -explanation is offered, people, in the present unsatisfactory state of -meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a cyclone; there might -be a public subscription, and as my house has collapsed and been burnt, -I should in that case receive a considerable share in the compensation, -which would be extremely helpful to the prosecution of our researches. -But if it is known that _I_ caused this, there will be no public -subscription, and everybody will be put out. Practically I should never -get a chance of working in peace again. My three assistants may or may -not have perished. That is a detail. If they have, it is no great loss; -they were more zealous than able, and this premature event must be -largely due to their joint neglect of the furnace. If they have not -perished, I doubt if they have the intelligence to explain the affair. -They will accept the cyclone story. And if during the temporary -unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one of the -untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours—” - -He paused and regarded me. - -A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to -entertain. - -“Perhaps,” said I, rising to my feet, “we had better begin by looking -for a trowel,” and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the -greenhouse. - -And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question -alone. It was clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s society I had -not foreseen. The absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating -the terrestrial globe, might at any moment result in some other grave -inconvenience. On the other hand I was young, my affairs were in a -mess, and I was in just the mood for reckless adventure—with a chance -of something good at the end of it. I had quite settled in my mind that -I was to have half at least in that aspect of the affair. Fortunately I -held my bungalow, as I have already explained, on a three-year -agreement, without being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, -such as there was of it, had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, -insured, and altogether devoid of associations. In the end I decided to -keep on with him, and see the business through. - -Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer -doubted at all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began -to have doubts about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to -work at once to reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our -experiments. Cavor talked more on my level than he had ever done -before, when it came to the question of how we should make the stuff -next. - -“Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a sort of glee I had -not expected in him, “of course we must make it again. We have caught a -Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good -and all. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, -we will. But—there _must_ be risks! There must be. In experimental work -there always are. And here, as a practical man, _you_ must come in. For -my own part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very -thin. Yet I don’t know. I have a certain dim perception of another -method. I can hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into -my mind, while I was rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, -and very doubtful how the whole adventure was to end, as being -absolutely the thing I ought to have done.” - -Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept -at work restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it -became absolutely necessary to decide upon the precise form and method -of our second attempt. Our only hitch was the strike of the three -labourers, who objected to my activity as a foreman. But that matter we -compromised after two days’ delay. - - - - -III. -The Building of the sphere - - -I remember the occasion very distinctly when Cavor told me of his idea -of the sphere. He had had intimations of it before, but at the time it -seemed to come to him in a rush. We were returning to the bungalow for -tea, and on the way he fell humming. Suddenly he shouted, “That’s it! -That finishes it! A sort of roller blind!” - -“Finishes what?” I asked. - -“Space—anywhere! The moon.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Mean? Why—it must be a sphere! That’s what I mean!” - -I saw I was out of it, and for a time I let him talk in his own -fashion. I hadn’t the ghost of an idea then of his drift. But after he -had taken tea he made it clear to me. - -“It’s like this,” he said. “Last time I ran this stuff that cuts things -off from gravitation into a flat tank with an overlap that held it -down. And directly it had cooled and the manufacture was completed all -that uproar happened, nothing above it weighed anything, the air went -squirting up, the house squirted up, and if the stuff itself hadn’t -squirted up too, I don’t know what would have happened! But suppose the -substance is loose, and quite free to go up?” - -“It will go up at once!” - -“Exactly. With no more disturbance than firing a big gun.” - -“But what good will that do?” - -“I’m going up with it!” - -I put down my teacup and stared at him. - -“Imagine a sphere,” he explained, “large enough to hold two people and -their luggage. It will be made of steel lined with thick glass; it will -contain a proper store of solidified air, concentrated food, water -distilling apparatus, and so forth. And enamelled, as it were, on the -outer steel—” - -“Cavorite?” - -“Yes.” - -“But how will you get inside?” - -“There was a similar problem about a dumpling.” - -“Yes, I know. But how?” - -“That’s perfectly easy. An air-tight manhole is all that is needed. -That, of course, will have to be a little complicated; there will have -to be a valve, so that things may be thrown out, if necessary, without -much loss of air.” - -“Like Jules Verne’s thing in _A Trip to the Moon_.” - -But Cavor was not a reader of fiction. - -“I begin to see,” I said slowly. “And you could get in and screw -yourself up while the Cavorite was warm, and as soon as it cooled it -would become impervious to gravitation, and off you would fly—” - -“At a tangent.” - -“You would go off in a straight line—” I stopped abruptly. “What is to -prevent the thing travelling in a straight line into space for ever?” I -asked. “You’re not safe to get anywhere, and if you do—how will you get -back?” - -“I’ve just thought of that,” said Cavor. “That’s what I meant when I -said the thing is finished. The inner glass sphere can be air-tight, -and, except for the manhole, continuous, and the steel sphere can be -made in sections, each section capable of rolling up after the fashion -of a roller blind. These can easily be worked by springs, and released -and checked by electricity conveyed by platinum wires fused through the -glass. All that is merely a question of detail. So you see, that except -for the thickness of the blind rollers, the Cavorite exterior of the -sphere will consist of windows or blinds, whichever you like to call -them. Well, when all these windows or blinds are shut, no light, no -heat, no gravitation, no radiant energy of any sort will get at the -inside of the sphere, it will fly on through space in a straight line, -as you say. But open a window, imagine one of the windows open. Then at -once any heavy body that chances to be in that direction will attract -us—” - -I sat taking it in. - -“You see?” he said. - -“Oh, I _see_.” - -“Practically we shall be able to tack about in space just as we wish. -Get attracted by this and that.” - -“Oh, yes. _That’s_ clear enough. Only—” - -“Well?” - -“I don’t quite see what we shall do it for! It’s really only jumping -off the world and back again.” - -“Surely! For example, one might go to the moon.” - -“And when one got there? What would you find?” - -“We should see—Oh! consider the new knowledge.” - -“Is there air there?” - -“There may be.” - -“It’s a fine idea,” I said, “but it strikes me as a large order all the -same. The moon! I’d much rather try some smaller things first.” - -“They’re out of the question, because of the air difficulty.” - -“Why not apply that idea of spring blinds—Cavorite blinds in strong -steel cases—to lifting weights?” - -“It wouldn’t work,” he insisted. “After all, to go into outer space is -not so much worse, if at all, than a polar expedition. Men go on polar -expeditions.” - -“Not business men. And besides, they get paid for polar expeditions. -And if anything goes wrong there are relief parties. But this—it’s just -firing ourselves off the world for nothing.” - -“Call it prospecting.” - -“You’ll have to call it that.... One might make a book of it perhaps,” -I said. - -“I have no doubt there will be minerals,” said Cavor. - -“For example?” - -“Oh! sulphur, ores, gold perhaps, possibly new elements.” - -“Cost of carriage,” I said. “You know you’re _not_ a practical man. The -moon’s a quarter of a million miles away.” - -“It seems to me it wouldn’t cost much to cart any weight anywhere if -you packed it in a Cavorite case.” - -I had not thought of that. “Delivered free on head of purchaser, eh?” - -“It isn’t as though we were confined to the moon.” - -“You mean?” - -“There’s Mars—clear atmosphere, novel surroundings, exhilarating sense -of lightness. It might be pleasant to go there.” - -“Is there air on Mars?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“Seems as though you might run it as a sanatorium. By the way, how far -is Mars?” - -“Two hundred million miles at present,” said Cavor airily; “and you go -close by the sun.” - -My imagination was picking itself up again. “After all,” I said, -“there’s something in these things. There’s travel—” - -An extraordinary possibility came rushing into my mind. Suddenly I saw, -as in a vision, the whole solar system threaded with Cavorite liners -and spheres _de luxe_. “Rights of pre-emption,” came floating into my -head—planetary rights of pre-emption. I recalled the old Spanish -monopoly in American gold. It wasn’t as though it was just this planet -or that—it was all of them. I stared at Cavor’s rubicund face, and -suddenly my imagination was leaping and dancing. I stood up, I walked -up and down; my tongue was unloosened. - -“I’m beginning to take it in,” I said; “I’m beginning to take it in.” -The transition from doubt to enthusiasm seemed to take scarcely any -time at all. “But this is tremendous!” I cried. “This is Imperial! I -haven’t been dreaming of this sort of thing.” - -Once the chill of my opposition was removed, his own pent-up excitement -had play. He too got up and paced. He too gesticulated and shouted. We -behaved like men inspired. We _were_ men inspired. - -“We’ll settle all that!” he said in answer to some incidental -difficulty that had pulled me up. “We’ll soon settle that! We’ll start -the drawings for mouldings this very night.” - -“We’ll start them now,” I responded, and we hurried off to the -laboratory to begin upon this work forthwith. - -I was like a child in Wonderland all that night. The dawn found us both -still at work—we kept our electric light going heedless of the day. I -remember now exactly how these drawings looked. I shaded and tinted -while Cavor drew—smudged and haste-marked they were in every line, but -wonderfully correct. We got out the orders for the steel blinds and -frames we needed from that night’s work, and the glass sphere was -designed within a week. We gave up our afternoon conversations and our -old routine altogether. We worked, and we slept and ate when we could -work no longer for hunger and fatigue. Our enthusiasm infected even our -three men, though they had no idea what the sphere was for. Through -those days the man Gibbs gave up walking, and went everywhere, even -across the room, at a sort of fussy run. - -And it grew—the sphere. December passed, January—I spent a day with a -broom sweeping a path through the snow from bungalow to -laboratory—February, March. By the end of March the completion was in -sight. In January had come a team of horses, a huge packing-case; we -had our thick glass sphere now ready, and in position under the crane -we had rigged to sling it into the steel shell. All the bars and blinds -of the steel shell—it was not really a spherical shell, but polyhedral, -with a roller blind to each facet—had arrived by February, and the -lower half was bolted together. The Cavorite was half made by March, -the metallic paste had gone through two of the stages in its -manufacture, and we had plastered quite half of it on to the steel bars -and blinds. It was astonishing how closely we kept to the lines of -Cavor’s first inspiration in working out the scheme. When the bolting -together of the sphere was finished, he proposed to remove the rough -roof of the temporary laboratory in which the work was done, and build -a furnace about it. So the last stage of Cavorite making, in which the -paste is heated to a dull red glow in a stream of helium, would be -accomplished when it was already on the sphere. - -And then we had to discuss and decide what provisions we were to -take—compressed foods, concentrated essences, steel cylinders -containing reserve oxygen, an arrangement for removing carbonic acid -and waste from the air and restoring oxygen by means of sodium -peroxide, water condensers, and so forth. I remember the little heap -they made in the corner—tins, and rolls, and boxes—convincingly -matter-of-fact. - -It was a strenuous time, with little chance of thinking. But one day, -when we were drawing near the end, an odd mood came over me. I had been -bricking up the furnace all the morning, and I sat down by these -possessions dead beat. Everything seemed dull and incredible. - -“But look here, Cavor,” I said. “After all! What’s it all for?” - -He smiled. “The thing now is to go.” - -“The moon,” I reflected. “But what do you expect? I thought the moon -was a dead world.” - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -“We’re going to see.” - -“_Are_ we?” I said, and stared before me. - -“You are tired,” he remarked. “You’d better take a walk this -afternoon.” - -“No,” I said obstinately; “I’m going to finish this brickwork.” - -And I did, and insured myself a night of insomnia. I don’t think I have -ever had such a night. I had some bad times before my business -collapse, but the very worst of those was sweet slumber compared to -this infinity of aching wakefulness. I was suddenly in the most -enormous funk at the thing we were going to do. - -I do not remember before that night thinking at all of the risks we -were running. Now they came like that array of spectres that once -beleaguered Prague, and camped around me. The strangeness of what we -were about to do, the unearthliness of it, overwhelmed me. I was like a -man awakened out of pleasant dreams to the most horrible surroundings. -I lay, eyes wide open, and the sphere seemed to get more flimsy and -feeble, and Cavor more unreal and fantastic, and the whole enterprise -madder and madder every moment. - -I got out of bed and wandered about. I sat at the window and stared at -the immensity of space. Between the stars was the void, the -unfathomable darkness! I tried to recall the fragmentary knowledge of -astronomy I had gained in my irregular reading, but it was all too -vague to furnish any idea of the things we might expect. At last I got -back to bed and snatched some moments of sleep—moments of nightmare -rather—in which I fell and fell and fell for evermore into the abyss of -the sky. - -I astonished Cavor at breakfast. I told him shortly, “I’m not coming -with you in the sphere.” - -I met all his protests with a sullen persistence. “The thing’s too -mad,” I said, “and I won’t come. The thing’s too mad.” - -I would not go with him to the laboratory. I fretted about my bungalow -for a time, and then took hat and stick and set out alone, I knew not -whither. It chanced to be a glorious morning: a warm wind and deep blue -sky, the first green of spring abroad, and multitudes of birds singing. -I lunched on beef and beer in a little public-house near Elham, and -startled the landlord by remarking _apropos_ of the weather, “A man who -leaves the world when days of this sort are about is a fool!” - -“That’s what I says when I heerd on it!” said the landlord, and I found -that for one poor soul at least this world had proved excessive, and -there had been a throat-cutting. I went on with a new twist to my -thoughts. - -In the afternoon I had a pleasant sleep in a sunny place, and went on -my way refreshed. - -I came to a comfortable-looking inn near Canterbury. It was bright with -creepers, and the landlady was a clean old woman and took my eye. I -found I had just enough money to pay for my lodging with her. I decided -to stop the night there. She was a talkative body, and among many other -particulars I learnt she had never been to London. “Canterbury’s as far -as ever I been,” she said. “I’m not one of your gad-about sort.” - -“How would you like a trip to the moon?” I cried. - -“I never did hold with them ballooneys,” she said evidently under the -impression that this was a common excursion enough. “I wouldn’t go up -in one—not for ever so.” - -This struck me as being funny. After I had supped I sat on a bench by -the door of the inn and gossiped with two labourers about brickmaking, -and motor cars, and the cricket of last year. And in the sky a faint -new crescent, blue and vague as a distant Alp, sank westward over the -sun. - -The next day I returned to Cavor. “I am coming,” I said. “I’ve been a -little out of order, that’s all.” - -That was the only time I felt any serious doubt our enterprise. Nerves -purely! After that I worked a little more carefully, and took a trudge -for an hour every day. And at last, save for the heating in the -furnace, our labours were at an end. - - - - -IV. -Inside the Sphere - - -“Go on,” said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and -looked down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. -It was evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was -upon everything. - -I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom -of the sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other -impedimenta from Cavor. The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at -eighty, and as we should lose little or none of this by radiation, we -were dressed in shoes and thin flannels. We had, however, a bundle of -thick woollen clothing and several thick blankets to guard against -mischance. - -By Cavor’s direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, -and so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He -walked about the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had -overlooked, and then crawled in after me. I noted something in his -hand. - -“What have you got there?” I asked. - -“Haven’t you brought anything to read?” - -“Good Lord! No.” - -“I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties— The voyage may last— We -may be weeks!” - -“But—” - -“We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no occupation.” - -“I wish I’d known—” - -He peered out of the manhole. “Look!” he said. “There’s something -there!” - -“Is there time?” - -“We shall be an hour.” - -I looked out. It was an old number of _Tit-Bits_ that one of the men -must have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn _Lloyd’s -News_. I scrambled back into the sphere with these things. “What have -you got?” I said. - -I took the book from his hand and read, “The Works of William -Shakespeare”. - -He coloured slightly. “My education has been so purely scientific—” he -said apologetically. - -“Never read him?” - -“Never.” - -“He knew a little, you know—in an irregular sort of way.” - -“Precisely what I am told,” said Cavor. - -I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he -pressed a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The -little oblong of twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time -neither of us spoke. Although our case would not be impervious to -sound, everything was very still. I perceived there was nothing to grip -when the shock of our start should come, and I realised that I should -be uncomfortable for want of a chair. - -“Why have we no chairs?” I asked. - -“I’ve settled all that,” said Cavor. “We won’t need them.” - -“Why not?” - -“You will see,” he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to talk. - -I became silent. Suddenly it had come to me clear and vivid that I was -a fool to be inside that sphere. Even now, I asked myself, is to too -late to withdraw? The world outside the sphere, I knew, would be cold -and inhospitable enough for me—for weeks I had been living on subsidies -from Cavor—but after all, would it be as cold as the infinite zero, as -inhospitable as empty space? If it had not been for the appearance of -cowardice, I believe that even then I should have made him let me out. -But I hesitated on that score, and hesitated, and grew fretful and -angry, and the time passed. - -There came a little jerk, a noise like champagne being uncorked in -another room, and a faint whistling sound. For just one instant I had a -sense of enormous tension, a transient conviction that my feet were -pressing downward with a force of countless tons. It lasted for an -infinitesimal time. - -But it stirred me to action. “Cavor!” I said into the darkness, “my -nerve’s in rags. I don’t think—” - -I stopped. He made no answer. - -“Confound it!” I cried; “I’m a fool! What business have I here? I’m not -coming, Cavor. The thing’s too risky. I’m getting out.” - -“You can’t,” he said. - -“Can’t! We’ll soon see about that!” - -He made no answer for ten seconds. “It’s too late for us to quarrel -now, Bedford,” he said. “That little jerk was the start. Already we are -flying as swiftly as a bullet up into the gulf of space.” - -“I—” I said, and then it didn’t seem to matter what happened. For a -time I was, as it were, stunned; I had nothing to say. It was just as -if I had never heard of this idea of leaving the world before. Then I -perceived an unaccountable change in my bodily sensations. It was a -feeling of lightness, of unreality. Coupled with that was a queer -sensation in the head, an apoplectic effect almost, and a thumping of -blood vessels at the ears. Neither of these feelings diminished as time -went on, but at last I got so used to them that I experienced no -inconvenience. - -I heard a click, and a little glow lamp came into being. - -I saw Cavor’s face, as white as I felt my own to be. We regarded one -another in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him -made him seem as though he floated in a void. - -“Well, we’re committed,” I said at last. - -“Yes,” he said, “we’re committed.” - -“Don’t move,” he exclaimed, at some suggestion of a gesture. “Let your -muscles keep quite lax—as if you were in bed. We are in a little -universe of our own. Look at those things!” - -He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the -blankets in the bottom of the sphere. I was astonished to see that they -were floating now nearly a foot from the spherical wall. Then I saw -from his shadow that Cavor was no longer leaning against the glass. I -thrust out my hand behind me, and found that I too was suspended in -space, clear of the glass. - -I did not cry out nor gesticulate, but fear came upon me. It was like -being held and lifted by something—you know not what. The mere touch of -my hand against the glass moved me rapidly. I understood what had -happened, but that did not prevent my being afraid. We were cut off -from all exterior gravitation, only the attraction of objects within -our sphere had effect. Consequently everything that was not fixed to -the glass was falling—slowly because of the slightness of our -masses—towards the centre of gravity of our little world, which seemed -to be somewhere about the middle of the sphere, but rather nearer to -myself than Cavor, on account of my greater weight. - -“We must turn round,” said Cavor, “and float back to back, with the -things between us.” - -It was the strangest sensation conceivable, floating thus loosely in -space, at first indeed horribly strange, and when the horror passed, -not disagreeable at all, exceeding restful; indeed, the nearest thing -in earthly experience to it that I know is lying on a very thick, soft -feather bed. But the quality of utter detachment and independence! I -had not reckoned on things like this. I had expected a violent jerk at -starting, a giddy sense of speed. Instead I felt—as if I were -disembodied. It was not like the beginning of a journey; it was like -the beginning of a dream. - - - - -V. -The Journey to the Moon - - -Presently Cavor extinguished the light. He said we had not overmuch -energy stored, and that what we had we must economise for reading. For -a time, whether it was long or short I do not know, there was nothing -but blank darkness. - -A question floated up out of the void. “How are we pointing?” I said. -“What is our direction?” - -“We are flying away from the earth at a tangent, and as the moon is -near her third quarter we are going somewhere towards her. I will open -a blind—” - -Came a click, and then a window in the outer case yawned open. The sky -outside was as black as the darkness within the sphere, but the shape -of the open window was marked by an infinite number of stars. - -Those who have only seen the starry sky from the earth cannot imagine -its appearance when the vague, half luminous veil of our air has been -withdrawn. The stars we see on earth are the mere scattered survivors -that penetrate our misty atmosphere. But now at last I could realise -the meaning of the hosts of heaven! - -Stranger things we were presently to see, but that airless, star-dusted -sky! Of all things, I think that will be one of the last I shall -forget. - -The little window vanished with a click, another beside it snapped open -and instantly closed, and then a third, and for a moment I had to close -my eyes because of the blinding splendour of the waning moon. - -For a space I had to stare at Cavor and the white-lit things about me -to season my eyes to light again, before I could turn them towards that -pallid glare. - -Four windows were open in order that the gravitation of the moon might -act upon all the substances in our sphere. I found I was no longer -floating freely in space, but that my feet were resting on the glass in -the direction of the moon. The blankets and cases of provisions were -also creeping slowly down the glass, and presently came to rest so as -to block out a portion of the view. It seemed to me, of course, that I -looked “down” when I looked at the moon. On earth “down” means -earthward, the way things fall, and “up” the reverse direction. Now the -pull of gravitation was towards the moon, and for all I knew to the -contrary our earth was overhead. And, of course, when all the Cavorite -blinds were closed, “down” was towards the centre of our sphere, and -“up” towards its outer wall. - -It was curiously unlike earthly experience, too, to have the light -coming _up_ to one. On earth light falls from above, or comes slanting -down sideways, but here it came from beneath our feet, and to see our -shadows we had to look up. - -At first it gave me a sort of vertigo to stand only on thick glass and -look down upon the moon through hundreds of thousands of miles of -vacant space; but this sickness passed very speedily. And then—the -splendour of the sight! - -The reader may imagine it best if he will lie on the ground some warm -summer’s night and look between his upraised feet at the moon, but for -some reason, probably because the absence of air made it so much more -luminous, the moon seemed already considerably larger than it does from -earth. The minutest details of its surface were acutely clear. And -since we did not see it through air, its outline was bright and sharp, -there was no glow or halo about it, and the star-dust that covered the -sky came right to its very margin, and marked the outline of its -unilluminated part. And as I stood and stared at the moon between my -feet, that perception of the impossible that had been with me off and -on ever since our start, returned again with tenfold conviction. - -“Cavor,” I said, “this takes me queerly. Those companies we were going -to run, and all that about minerals?” - -“Well?” - -“I don’t see ‘em here.” - -“No,” said Cavor; “but you’ll get over all that.” - -“I suppose I’m made to turn right side up again. Still, _this_— For a -moment I could half believe there never was a world.” - -“That copy of _Lloyd’s News_ might help you.” - -I stared at the paper for a moment, then held it above the level of my -face, and found I could read it quite easily. I struck a column of mean -little advertisements. “A gentleman of private means is willing to lend -money,” I read. I knew that gentleman. Then somebody eccentric wanted -to sell a Cutaway bicycle, “quite new and cost £15,” for five pounds; -and a lady in distress wished to dispose of some fish knives and forks, -“a wedding present,” at a great sacrifice. No doubt some simple soul -was sagely examining these knives and forks, and another triumphantly -riding off on that bicycle, and a third trustfully consulting that -benevolent gentleman of means even as I read. I laughed, and let the -paper drift from my hand. - -“Are we visible from the earth?” I asked. - -“Why?” - -“I knew some one who was rather interested in astronomy. It occurred to -me that it would be rather odd if—my friend—chanced to be looking -through some telescope.” - -“It would need the most powerful telescope on earth even now to see us -as the minutest speck.” - -For a time I stared in silence at the moon. - -“It’s a world,” I said; “one feels that infinitely more than one ever -did on earth. People perhaps—” - -“People!” he exclaimed. “_No!_ Banish all that! Think yourself a sort -of ultra-arctic voyager exploring the desolate places of space. Look at -it!” - -He waved his hand at the shining whiteness below. “It’s dead—dead! Vast -extinct volcanoes, lava wildernesses, tumbled wastes of snow, or frozen -carbonic acid, or frozen air, and everywhere landslip seams and cracks -and gulfs. Nothing happens. Men have watched this planet systematically -with telescopes for over two hundred years. How much change do you -think they have seen?” - -“None.” - -“They have traced two indisputable landslips, a doubtful crack, and one -slight periodic change of colour, and that’s all.” - -“I didn’t know they’d traced even that.” - -“Oh, yes. But as for people—!” - -“By the way,” I asked, “how small a thing will the biggest telescopes -show upon the moon?” - -“One could see a fair-sized church. One could certainly see any towns -or buildings, or anything like the handiwork of men. There might -perhaps be insects, something in the way of ants, for example, so that -they could hide in deep burrows from the lunar light, or some new sort -of creatures having no earthly parallel. That is the most probable -thing, if we are to find life there at all. Think of the difference in -conditions! Life must fit itself to a day as long as fourteen earthly -days, a cloudless sun-blaze of fourteen days, and then a night of equal -length, growing ever colder and colder under these cold, sharp stars. -In that night there must be cold, the ultimate cold, absolute zero, -273° C. below the earthly freezing point. Whatever life there is must -hibernate through _that_, and rise again each day.” - -He mused. “One can imagine something worm-like,” he said, “taking its -air solid as an earth-worm swallows earth, or thick-skinned monsters—” - -“By the bye,” I said, “why didn’t we bring a gun?” - -He did not answer that question. “No,” he concluded, “we just have to -go. We shall see when we get there.” - -I remembered something. “Of course, there’s my minerals, anyhow,” I -said; “whatever the conditions may be.” - -Presently he told me he wished to alter our course a little by letting -the earth tug at us for a moment. He was going to open one earthward -blind for thirty seconds. He warned me that it would make my head swim, -and advised me to extend my hands against the glass to break my fall. I -did as he directed, and thrust my feet against the bales of food cases -and air cylinders to prevent their falling upon me. Then with a click -the window flew open. I fell clumsily upon hands and face, and saw for -a moment between my black extended fingers our mother earth—a planet in -a downward sky. - -We were still very near—Cavor told me the distance was perhaps eight -hundred miles and the huge terrestrial disc filled all heaven. But -already it was plain to see that the world was a globe. The land below -us was in twilight and vague, but westward the vast grey stretches of -the Atlantic shone like molten silver under the receding day. I think I -recognised the cloud-dimmed coast-lines of France and Spain and the -south of England, and then, with a click, the shutter closed again, and -I found myself in a state of extraordinary confusion sliding slowly -over the smooth glass. - -When at last things settled themselves in my mind again, it seemed -quite beyond question that the moon was “down” and under my feet, and -that the earth was somewhere away on the level of the horizon—the earth -that had been “down” to me and my kindred since the beginning of -things. - -So slight were the exertions required of us, so easy did the practical -annihilation of our weight make all we had to do, that the necessity -for taking refreshment did not occur to us for nearly six hours (by -Cavor’s chronometer) after our start. I was amazed at that lapse of -time. Even then I was satisfied with very little. Cavor examined the -apparatus for absorbing carbonic acid and water, and pronounced it to -be in satisfactory order, our consumption of oxygen having been -extraordinarily slight. And our talk being exhausted for the time, and -there being nothing further for us to do, we gave way to a curious -drowsiness that had come upon us, and spreading our blankets on the -bottom of the sphere in such a manner as to shut out most of the -moonlight, wished each other good-night, and almost immediately fell -asleep. - -And so, sleeping, and sometimes talking and reading a little, and at -times eating, although without any keenness of appetite,[1] but for the -most part in a sort of quiescence that was neither waking nor slumber, -we fell through a space of time that had neither night nor day in it, -silently, softly, and swiftly down towards the moon. - - [1] It is a curious thing, that while we were in the sphere we felt - not the slightest desire for food, nor did we feel the want of it when - we abstained. At first we forced our appetites, but afterwards we - fasted completely. Altogether we did not consume one-hundredth part of - the compressed provisions we had brought with us. The amount of - carbonic acid we breathed was also unnaturally low, but why this was, - I am quite unable to explain. - - - - -VI. -The Landing on the Moon - - -I remember how one day Cavor suddenly opened six of our shutters and -blinded me so that I cried aloud at him. The whole area was moon, a -stupendous scimitar of white dawn with its edge hacked out by notches -of darkness, the crescent shore of an ebbing tide of darkness, out of -which peaks and pinnacles came glittering into the blaze of the sun. I -take it the reader has seen pictures or photographs of the moon and -that I need not describe the broader features of that landscape, those -spacious ring-like ranges vaster than any terrestrial mountains, their -summits shining in the day, their shadows harsh and deep, the grey -disordered plains, the ridges, hills, and craterlets, all passing at -last from a blazing illumination into a common mystery of black. -Athwart this world we were flying scarcely a hundred miles above its -crests and pinnacles. And now we could see, what no eye on earth will -ever see, that under the blaze of the day the harsh outlines of the -rocks and ravines of the plains and crater floor grew grey and -indistinct under a thickening haze, that the white of their lit -surfaces broke into lumps and patches, and broke again and shrank and -vanished, and that here and there strange tints of brown and olive grew -and spread. - -But little time we had for watching then. For now we had come to the -real danger of our journey. We had to drop ever closer to the moon as -we spun about it, to slacken our pace and watch our chance, until at -last we could dare to drop upon its surface. - -For Cavor that was a time of intense exertion; for me it was an anxious -inactivity. I seemed perpetually to be getting out of his way. He leapt -about the sphere from point to point with an agility that would have -been impossible on earth. He was perpetually opening and closing the -Cavorite windows, making calculations, consulting his chronometer by -means of the glow lamp during those last eventful hours. For a long -time we had all our windows closed and hung silently in darkness -hurling through space. - -Then he was feeling for the shutter studs, and suddenly four windows -were open. I staggered and covered my eyes, drenched and scorched and -blinded by the unaccustomed splendour of the sun beneath my feet. Then -again the shutters snapped, leaving my brain spinning in a darkness -that pressed against the eyes. And after that I floated in another -vast, black silence. - -Then Cavor switched on the electric light, and told me he proposed to -bind all our luggage together with the blankets about it, against the -concussion of our descent. We did this with our windows closed, because -in that way our goods arranged themselves naturally at the centre of -the sphere. That too was a strange business; we two men floating loose -in that spherical space, and packing and pulling ropes. Imagine it if -you can! No up nor down, and every effort resulting in unexpected -movements. Now I would be pressed against the glass with the full force -of Cavor’s thrust, now I would be kicking helplessly in a void. Now the -star of the electric light would be overhead, now under foot. Now -Cavor’s feet would float up before my eyes, and now we would be -crossways to each other. But at last our goods were safely bound -together in a big soft bale, all except two blankets with head holes -that we were to wrap about ourselves. - -Then for a flash Cavor opened a window moonward, and we saw that we -were dropping towards a huge central crater with a number of minor -craters grouped in a sort of cross about it. And then again Cavor flung -our little sphere open to the scorching, blinding sun. I think he was -using the sun’s attraction as a brake. “Cover yourself with a blanket,” -he cried, thrusting himself from me, and for a moment I did not -understand. - -Then I hauled the blanket from beneath my feet and got it about me and -over my head and eyes. Abruptly he closed the shutters again, snapped -one open again and closed it, then suddenly began snapping them all -open, each safely into its steel roller. There came a jar, and then we -were rolling over and over, bumping against the glass and against the -big bale of our luggage, and clutching at each other, and outside some -white substance splashed as if we were rolling down a slope of snow.... - -Over, clutch, bump, clutch, bump, over.... - -Came a thud, and I was half buried under the bale of our possessions, -and for a space everything was still. Then I could hear Cavor puffing -and grunting, and the snapping of a shutter in its sash. I made an -effort, thrust back our blanket-wrapped luggage, and emerged from -beneath it. Our open windows were just visible as a deeper black set -with stars. - -We were still alive, and we were lying in the darkness of the shadow of -the wall of the great crater into which we had fallen. - -We sat getting our breath again, and feeling the bruises on our limbs. -I don’t think either of us had had a very clear expectation of such -rough handling as we had received. I struggled painfully to my feet. -“And now,” said I, “to look at the landscape of the moon! But—! It’s -tremendously dark, Cavor!” - -The glass was dewy, and as I spoke I wiped at it with my blanket. -“We’re half an hour or so beyond the day,” he said. “We must wait.” - -It was impossible to distinguish anything. We might have been in a -sphere of steel for all that we could see. My rubbing with the blanket -simply smeared the glass, and as fast as I wiped it, it became opaque -again with freshly condensed moisture mixed with an increasing quantity -of blanket hairs. Of course I ought not to have used the blanket. In my -efforts to clear the glass I slipped upon the damp surface, and hurt my -shin against one of the oxygen cylinders that protruded from our bale. - -The thing was exasperating—it was absurd. Here we were just arrived -upon the moon, amidst we knew not what wonders, and all we could see -was the grey and streaming wall of the bubble in which we had come. - -“Confound it!” I said, “but at this rate we might have stopped at -home;” and I squatted on the bale and shivered, and drew my blanket -closer about me. - -Abruptly the moisture turned to spangles and fronds of frost. “Can you -reach the electric heater,” said Cavor. “Yes—that black knob. Or we -shall freeze.” - -I did not wait to be told twice. “And now,” said I, “what are we to -do?” - -“Wait,” he said. - -“Wait?” - -“Of course. We shall have to wait until our air gets warm again, and -then this glass will clear. We can’t do anything till then. It’s night -here yet; we must wait for the day to overtake us. Meanwhile, don’t you -feel hungry?” - -For a space I did not answer him, but sat fretting. I turned -reluctantly from the smeared puzzle of the glass and stared at his -face. “Yes,” I said, “I am hungry. I feel somehow enormously -disappointed. I had expected—I don’t know what I had expected, but not -this.” - -I summoned my philosophy, and rearranging my blanket about me sat down -on the bale again and began my first meal on the moon. I don’t think I -finished it—I forget. Presently, first in patches, then running rapidly -together into wider spaces, came the clearing of the glass, came the -drawing of the misty veil that hid the moon world from our eyes. - -We peered out upon the landscape of the moon. - - - - -VII. -Sunrise on the Moon - - -As we saw it first it was the wildest and most desolate of scenes. We -were in an enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain, the floor of -the giant crater. Its cliff-like walls closed us in on every side. From -the westward the light of the unseen sun fell upon them, reaching to -the very foot of the cliff, and showed a disordered escarpment of drab -and greyish rock, lined here and there with banks and crevices of snow. -This was perhaps a dozen miles away, but at first no intervening -atmosphere diminished in the slightest the minutely detailed brilliancy -with which these things glared at us. They stood out clear and dazzling -against a background of starry blackness that seemed to our earthly -eyes rather a gloriously spangled velvet curtain than the spaciousness -of the sky. - -The eastward cliff was at first merely a starless selvedge to the -starry dome. No rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the -commencing day. Only the Corona, the Zodiacal light, a huge -cone-shaped, luminous haze, pointing up towards the splendour of the -morning star, warned us of the imminent nearness of the sun. - -Whatever light was about us was reflected by the westward cliffs. It -showed a huge undulating plain, cold and grey, a grey that deepened -eastward into the absolute raven darkness of the cliff shadow. -Innumerable rounded grey summits, ghostly hummocks, billows of snowy -substance, stretching crest beyond crest into the remote obscurity, -gave us our first inkling of the distance of the crater wall. These -hummocks looked like snow. At the time I thought they were snow. But -they were not—they were mounds and masses of frozen air. - -So it was at first; and then, sudden, swift, and amazing, came the -lunar day. - -The sunlight had crept down the cliff, it touched the drifted masses at -its base and incontinently came striding with seven-leagued boots -towards us. The distant cliff seemed to shift and quiver, and at the -touch of the dawn a reek of grey vapour poured upward from the crater -floor, whirls and puffs and drifting wraiths of grey, thicker and -broader and denser, until at last the whole westward plain was steaming -like a wet handkerchief held before the fire, and the westward cliffs -were no more than refracted glare beyond. - -“It is air,” said Cavor. “It must be air—or it would not rise like -this—at the mere touch of a sun-beam. And at this pace....” - -He peered upwards. “Look!” he said. - -“What?” I asked. - -“In the sky. Already. On the blackness—a little touch of blue. See! The -stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim nebulosities -we saw in empty space—they are hidden!” - -Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. Grey summit after grey summit -was overtaken by the blaze, and turned to a smoking white intensity. At -last there was nothing to the west of us but a bank of surging fog, the -tumultuous advance and ascent of cloudy haze. The distant cliff had -receded farther and farther, had loomed and changed through the whirl, -and foundered and vanished at last in its confusion. - -Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer and nearer, coming as fast as -the shadow of a cloud before the south-west wind. About us rose a thin -anticipatory haze. - -Cavor gripped my arm. “What?” I said. - -“Look! The sunrise! The sun!” - -He turned me about and pointed to the brow of the eastward cliff, -looming above the haze about us, scarce lighter than the darkness of -the sky. But now its line was marked by strange reddish shapes, tongues -of vermilion flame that writhed and danced. I fancied it must be -spirals of vapour that had caught the light and made this crest of -fiery tongues against the sky, but indeed it was the solar prominences -I saw, a crown of fire about the sun that is forever hidden from -earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil. - -And then—the sun! - -Steadily, inevitably came a brilliant line, came a thin edge of -intolerable effulgence that took a circular shape, became a bow, became -a blazing sceptre, and hurled a shaft of heat at us as though it was a -spear. - -It seemed verily to stab my eyes! I cried aloud and turned about -blinded, groping for my blanket beneath the bale. - -And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had -reached us from without since we left the earth, a hissing and -rustling, the stormy trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing -day. And with the coming of the sound and the light the sphere lurched, -and blinded and dazzled we staggered helplessly against each other. It -lurched again, and the hissing grew louder. I had shut my eyes -perforce, I was making clumsy efforts to cover my head with my blanket, -and this second lurch sent me helplessly off my feet. I fell against -the bale, and opening my eyes had a momentary glimpse of the air just -outside our glass. It was running—it was boiling—like snow into which a -white-hot rod is thrust. What had been solid air had suddenly at the -touch of the sun become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquefaction, that -hissed and bubbled into gas. - -There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched -one another. In another moment we were spun about again. Round we went -and over, and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had hold of us. -It meant to show us little men what the moon could do with us. - -I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half -liquid slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We dropped into -darkness. I went down with Cavor’s knees in my chest. Then he seemed to -fly away from me, and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my -body staring upward. A toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed -over us, buried us, and now it thinned and boiled off us. I saw the -bubbles dancing on the glass above. I heard Cavor exclaiming feebly. - -Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and -spluttering expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling -faster and faster, leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster -and faster, westward into the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar -day. - -Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our -bale of packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We collided, we -gripped, we were torn asunder—our heads met, and the whole universe -burst into fiery darts and stars! On the earth we should have smashed -one another a dozen times, but on the moon, luckily for us, our weight -was only one-sixth of what it is terrestrially, and we fell very -mercifully. I recall a sensation of utter sickness, a feeling as if my -brain were upside down within my skull, and then— - -Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears. -Then I discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated -by blue spectacles. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, -his eyes also protected by tinted goggles. His breath came irregularly, -and his lip was bleeding from a bruise. “Better?” he said, wiping the -blood with the back of his hand. - -Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my -giddiness. I perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the -outer sphere to save me—from the direct blaze of the sun. I was aware -that everything about us was very brilliant. - -“Lord!” I gasped. “But this—” - -I craned my neck to see. I perceived there was a blinding glare -outside, an utter change from the gloomy darkness of our first -impressions. “Have I been insensible long?” I asked. - -“I don’t know—the chronometer is broken. Some little time.... My dear -chap! I have been afraid...” - -I lay for a space taking this in. I saw his face still bore evidences -of emotion. For a while I said nothing. I passed an inquisitive hand -over my contusions, and surveyed his face for similar damages. The back -of my right hand had suffered most, and was skinless and raw. My -forehead was bruised and had bled. He handed me a little measure with -some of the restorative—I forget the name of it—he had brought with us. -After a time I felt a little better. I began to stretch my limbs -carefully. Soon I could talk. - -“It wouldn’t have done,” I said, as though there had been no interval. - -“No! it _wouldn’t_.” - -He thought, his hands hanging over his knees. He peered through the -glass and then stared at me. “Good Lord!” he said. “_No!_” - -“What has happened?” I asked after a pause. “Have we jumped to the -tropics?” - -“It was as I expected. This air has evaporated—if it is air. At any -rate, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are -lying on a bank of earthy rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed. A -queer sort of soil!” - -It occurred to him that it was unnecessary to explain. He assisted me -into a sitting position, and I could see with my own eyes. - - - - -VIII. -A Lunar Morning - - -The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and white of scenery had -altogether disappeared. The glare of the sun had taken upon itself a -faint tinge of amber; the shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall -were deeply purple. To the eastward a dark bank of fog still crouched -and sheltered from the sunrise, but to the westward the sky was blue -and clear. I began to realise the length of my insensibility. - -We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had arisen about us. The -outline of things had gained in character, had grown acute and varied; -save for a shadowed space of white substance here and there, white -substance that was no longer air but snow, the arctic appearance had -gone altogether. Everywhere broad rusty brown spaces of bare and -tumbled earth spread to the blaze of the sun. Here and there at the -edge of the snowdrifts were transient little pools and eddies of water, -the only things stirring in that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight -inundated the upper two blinds of our sphere and turned our climate to -high summer, but our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was -lying upon a drift of snow. - -And scattered here and there upon the slope, and emphasised by little -white threads of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, were shapes like -sticks, dry twisted sticks of the same rusty hue as the rock upon which -they lay. That caught one’s thoughts sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless -world? Then as my eye grew more accustomed to the texture of their -substance, I perceived that almost all this surface had a fibrous -texture, like the carpet of brown needles one finds beneath the shade -of pine trees. - -“Cavor!” I said. - -“Yes.” - -“It may be a dead world now—but once—” - -Something arrested my attention. I had discovered among these needles a -number of little round objects. And it seemed to me that one of these -had moved. “Cavor,” I whispered. - -“What?” - -But I did not answer at once. I stared incredulous. For an instant I -could not believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. I gripped his -arm. I pointed. “Look!” I cried, finding my tongue. “There! Yes! And -there!” - -His eyes followed my pointing finger. “Eh?” he said. - -How can I describe the thing I saw? It is so petty a thing to state, -and yet it seemed so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I have said -that amidst the stick-like litter were these rounded bodies, these -little oval bodies that might have passed as very small pebbles. And -now first one and then another had stirred, had rolled over and -cracked, and down the crack of each of them showed a minute line of -yellowish green, thrusting outward to meet the hot encouragement of the -newly-risen sun. For a moment that was all, and then there stirred, and -burst a third! - -“It is a seed,” said Cavor. And then I heard him whisper very softly, -“_Life!_” - -“Life!” And immediately it poured upon us that our vast journey had not -been made in vain, that we had come to no arid waste of minerals, but -to a world that lived and moved! We watched intensely. I remember I -kept rubbing the glass before me with my sleeve, jealous of the -faintest suspicion of mist. - -The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field. All -about that centre the dead fibres and seeds were magnified and -distorted by the curvature of the glass. But we could see enough! One -after another all down the sunlit slope these miraculous little brown -bodies burst and gaped apart, like seed-pods, like the husks of fruits; -opened eager mouths that drank in the heat and light pouring in a -cascade from the newly-risen sun. - -Every moment more of these seed coats ruptured, and even as they did so -the swelling pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed-cases, and -passed into the second stage of growth. With a steady assurance, a -swift deliberation, these amazing seeds thrust a rootlet downward to -the earth and a queer little bundle-like bud into the air. In a little -while the whole slope was dotted with minute plantlets standing at -attention in the blaze of the sun. - -They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled and strained -and opened with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little sharp tips, -spreading a whorl of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves, that lengthened -rapidly, lengthened visibly even as we watched. The movement was slower -than any animal’s, swifter than any plant’s I have ever seen before. -How can I suggest it to you—the way that growth went on? The leaf tips -grew so that they moved onward even while we looked at them. The brown -seed-case shrivelled and was absorbed with an equal rapidity. Have you -ever on a cold day taken a thermometer into your warm hand and watched -the little thread of mercury creep up the tube? These moon plants grew -like that. - -In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds of the more forward of these -plants had lengthened into a stem and were even putting forth a second -whorl of leaves, and all the slope that had seemed so recently a -lifeless stretch of litter was now dark with the stunted olive-green -herbage of bristling spikes that swayed with the vigour of their -growing. - -I turned about, and behold! along the upper edge of a rock to the -eastward a similar fringe in a scarcely less forward condition swayed -and bent, dark against the blinding glare of the sun. And beyond this -fringe was the silhouette of a plant mass, branching clumsily like a -cactus, and swelling visibly, swelling like a bladder that fills with -air. - -Then to the westward also I discovered that another such distended form -was rising over the scrub. But here the light fell upon its sleek -sides, and I could see that its colour was a vivid orange hue. It rose -as one watched it; if one looked away from it for a minute and then -back, its outline had changed; it thrust out blunt congested branches -until in a little time it rose a coralline shape of many feet in -height. Compared with such a growth the terrestrial puff-ball, which -will sometimes swell a foot in diameter in a single night, would be a -hopeless laggard. But then the puff-ball grows against a gravitational -pull six times that of the moon. Beyond, out of gullies and flats that -had been hidden from us, but not from the quickening sun, over reefs -and banks of shining rock, a bristling beard of spiky and fleshy -vegetation was straining into view, hurrying tumultuously to take -advantage of the brief day in which it must flower and fruit and seed -again and die. It was like a miracle, that growth. So, one must -imagine, the trees and plants arose at the Creation and covered the -desolation of the new-made earth. - -Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The resurrection of the frozen air, the -stirring and quickening of the soil, and then this silent uprising of -vegetation, this unearthly ascent of fleshiness and spikes. Conceive it -all lit by a blaze that would make the intensest sunlight of earth seem -watery and weak. And still around this stirring jungle, wherever there -was shadow, lingered banks of bluish snow. And to have the picture of -our impression complete, you must bear in mind that we saw it all -through a thick bent glass, distorting it as things are distorted by a -lens, acute only in the centre of the picture, and very bright there, -and towards the edges magnified and unreal. - - - - -IX. -Prospecting Begins - - -We ceased to gaze. We turned to each other, the same thought, the same -question in our eyes. For these plants to grow, there must be some air, -however attenuated, air that we also should be able to breathe. - -“The manhole?” I said. - -“Yes!” said Cavor, “if it is air we see!” - -“In a little while,” I said, “these plants will be as high as we are. -Suppose—suppose after all— Is it certain? How do you know that stuff -_is_ air? It may be nitrogen—it may be carbonic acid even!” - -“That’s easy,” he said, and set about proving it. He produced a big -piece of crumpled paper from the bale, lit it, and thrust it hastily -through the man-hole valve. I bent forward and peered down through the -thick glass for its appearance outside, that little flame on whose -evidence depended so much! - -I saw the paper drop out and lie lightly upon the snow. The pink flame -of its burning vanished. For an instant it seemed to be extinguished. -And then I saw a little blue tongue upon the edge of it that trembled, -and crept, and spread! - -Quietly the whole sheet, save where it lay in immediate contact with -the snow, charred and shrivelled and sent up a quivering thread of -smoke. There was no doubt left to me; the atmosphere of the moon was -either pure oxygen or air, and capable therefore—unless its tenuity was -excessive—of supporting our alien life. We might emerge—and live! - -I sat down with my legs on either side of the manhole and prepared to -unscrew it, but Cavor stopped me. “There is first a little precaution,” -he said. He pointed out that although it was certainly an oxygenated -atmosphere outside, it might still be so rarefied as to cause us grave -injury. He reminded me of mountain sickness, and of the bleeding that -often afflicts aeronauts who have ascended too swiftly, and he spent -some time in the preparation of a sickly-tasting drink which he -insisted on my sharing. It made me feel a little numb, but otherwise -had no effect on me. Then he permitted me to begin unscrewing. - -Presently the glass stopper of the manhole was so far undone that the -denser air within our sphere began to escape along the thread of the -screw, singing as a kettle sings before it boils. Thereupon he made me -desist. It speedily became evident that the pressure outside was very -much less than it was within. How much less it was we had no means of -telling. - -I sat grasping the stopper with both hands, ready to close it again if, -in spite of our intense hope, the lunar atmosphere should after all -prove too rarefied for us, and Cavor sat with a cylinder of compressed -oxygen at hand to restore our pressure. We looked at one another in -silence, and then at the fantastic vegetation that swayed and grew -visibly and noiselessly without. And ever that shrill piping continued. - -My blood-vessels began to throb in my ears, and the sound of Cavor’s -movements diminished. I noted how still everything had become, because -of the thinning of the air. - -As our air sizzled out from the screw the moisture of it condensed in -little puffs. - -Presently I experienced a peculiar shortness of breath that lasted -indeed during the whole of the time of our exposure to the moon’s -exterior atmosphere, and a rather unpleasant sensation about the ears -and finger-nails and the back of the throat grew upon my attention, and -presently passed off again. - -But then came vertigo and nausea that abruptly changed the quality of -my courage. I gave the lid of the manhole half a turn and made a hasty -explanation to Cavor; but now he was the more sanguine. He answered me -in a voice that seemed extraordinarily small and remote, because of the -thinness of the air that carried the sound. He recommended a nip of -brandy, and set me the example, and presently I felt better. I turned -the manhole stopper back again. The throbbing in my ears grew louder, -and then I remarked that the piping note of the outrush had ceased. For -a time I could not be sure that it had ceased. - -“Well?” said Cavor, in the ghost of a voice. - -“Well?” said I. - -“Shall we go on?” - -I thought. “Is this all?” - -“If you can stand it.” - -By way of answer I went on unscrewing. I lifted the circular operculum -from its place and laid it carefully on the bale. A flake or so of snow -whirled and vanished as that thin and unfamiliar air took possession of -our sphere. I knelt, and then seated myself at the edge of the manhole, -peering over it. Beneath, within a yard of my face, lay the untrodden -snow of the moon. - -There came a little pause. Our eyes met. - -“It doesn’t distress your lungs too much?” said Cavor. - -“No,” I said. “I can stand this.” - -He stretched out his hand for his blanket, thrust his head through its -central hole, and wrapped it about him. He sat down on the edge of the -manhole, he let his feet drop until they were within six inches of the -lunar ground. He hesitated for a moment, then thrust himself forward, -dropped these intervening inches, and stood upon the untrodden soil of -the moon. - -As he stepped forward he was refracted grotesquely by the edge of the -glass. He stood for a moment looking this way and that. Then he drew -himself together and leapt. - -The glass distorted everything, but it seemed to me even then to be an -extremely big leap. He had at one bound become remote. He seemed twenty -or thirty feet off. He was standing high upon a rocky mass and -gesticulating back to me. Perhaps he was shouting—but the sound did not -reach me. But how the deuce had he done this? I felt like a man who has -just seen a new conjuring trick. - -In a puzzled state of mind I too dropped through the manhole. I stood -up. Just in front of me the snowdrift had fallen away and made a sort -of ditch. I made a step and jumped. - -I found myself flying through the air, saw the rock on which he stood -coming to meet me, clutched it and clung in a state of infinite -amazement. - -I gasped a painful laugh. I was tremendously confused. Cavor bent down -and shouted in piping tones for me to be careful. - -I had forgotten that on the moon, with only an eighth part of the -earth’s mass and a quarter of its diameter, my weight was barely a -sixth what it was on earth. But now that fact insisted on being -remembered. - -“We are out of Mother Earth’s leading-strings now,” he said. - -With a guarded effort I raised myself to the top, and moving as -cautiously as a rheumatic patient, stood up beside him under the blaze -of the sun. The sphere lay behind us on its dwindling snowdrift thirty -feet away. - -As far as the eye could see over the enormous disorder of rocks that -formed the crater floor, the same bristling scrub that surrounded us -was starting into life, diversified here and there by bulging masses of -a cactus form, and scarlet and purple lichens that grew so fast they -seemed to crawl over the rocks. The whole area of the crater seemed to -me then to be one similar wilderness up to the very foot of the -surrounding cliff. - -This cliff was apparently bare of vegetation save at its base, and with -buttresses and terraces and platforms that did not very greatly attract -our attention at the time. It was many miles away from us in every -direction; we seemed to be almost at the centre of the crater, and we -saw it through a certain haziness that drove before the wind. For there -was even a wind now in the thin air, a swift yet weak wind that chilled -exceedingly but exerted little pressure. It was blowing round the -crater, as it seemed, to the hot illuminated side from the foggy -darkness under the sunward wall. It was difficult to look into this -eastward fog; we had to peer with half-closed eyes beneath the shade of -our hands, because of the fierce intensity of the motionless sun. - -“It seems to be deserted,” said Cavor, “absolutely desolate.” - -I looked about me again. I retained even then a clinging hope of some -quasi-human evidence, some pinnacle of building, some house or engine, -but everywhere one looked spread the tumbled rocks in peaks and crests, -and the darting scrub and those bulging cacti that swelled and swelled, -a flat negation as it seemed of all such hope. - -“It looks as though these plants had it to themselves,” I said. “I see -no trace of any other creature.” - -“No insects—no birds, no! Not a trace, not a scrap nor particle of -animal life. If there was—what would they do in the night? ... No; -there’s just these plants alone.” - -I shaded my eyes with my hand. “It’s like the landscape of a dream. -These things are less like earthly land plants than the things one -imagines among the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Look at that yonder! -One might imagine it a lizard changed into a plant. And the glare!” - -“This is only the fresh morning,” said Cavor. - -He sighed and looked about him. “This is no world for men,” he said. -“And yet in a way—it appeals.” - -He became silent for a time, then commenced his meditative humming. - -I started at a gentle touch, and found a thin sheet of livid lichen -lapping over my shoe. I kicked at it and it fell to powder, and each -speck began to grow. - -I heard Cavor exclaim sharply, and perceived that one of the fixed -bayonets of the scrub had pricked him. He hesitated, his eyes sought -among the rocks about us. A sudden blaze of pink had crept up a ragged -pillar of crag. It was a most extraordinary pink, a livid magenta. - -“Look!” said I, turning, and behold Cavor had vanished. - -For an instant I stood transfixed. Then I made a hasty step to look -over the verge of the rock. But in my surprise at his disappearance I -forgot once more that we were on the moon. The thrust of my foot that I -made in striding would have carried me a yard on earth; on the moon it -carried me six—a good five yards over the edge. For the moment the -thing had something of the effect of those nightmares when one falls -and falls. For while one falls sixteen feet in the first second of a -fall on earth, on the moon one falls two, and with only a sixth of -one’s weight. I fell, or rather I jumped down, about ten yards I -suppose. It seemed to take quite a long time, five or six seconds, I -should think. I floated through the air and fell like a feather, -knee-deep in a snow-drift in the bottom of a gully of blue-grey, -white-veined rock. - -I looked about me. “Cavor!” I cried; but no Cavor was visible. - -“Cavor!” I cried louder, and the rocks echoed me. - -I turned fiercely to the rocks and clambered to the summit of them. -“Cavor!” I cried. My voice sounded like the voice of a lost lamb. - -The sphere, too, was not in sight, and for a moment a horrible feeling -of desolation pinched my heart. - -Then I saw him. He was laughing and gesticulating to attract my -attention. He was on a bare patch of rock twenty or thirty yards away. -I could not hear his voice, but “jump” said his gestures. I hesitated, -the distance seemed enormous. Yet I reflected that surely I must be -able to clear a greater distance than Cavor. - -I made a step back, gathered myself together, and leapt with all my -might. I seemed to shoot right up in the air as though I should never -come down. - -It was horrible and delightful, and as wild as a nightmare, to go -flying off in this fashion. I realised my leap had been altogether too -violent. I flew clean over Cavor’s head and beheld a spiky confusion in -a gully spreading to meet my fall. I gave a yelp of alarm. I put out my -hands and straightened my legs. - -I hit a huge fungoid bulk that burst all about me, scattering a mass of -orange spores in every direction, and covering me with orange powder. I -rolled over spluttering, and came to rest convulsed with breathless -laughter. - -I became aware of Cavor’s little round face peering over a bristling -hedge. He shouted some faded inquiry. “Eh?” I tried to shout, but could -not do so for want of breath. He made his way towards me, coming -gingerly among the bushes. - -“We’ve got to be careful,” he said. “This moon has no discipline. -She’ll let us smash ourselves.” - -He helped me to my feet. “You exerted yourself too much,” he said, -dabbing at the yellow stuff with his hand to remove it from my -garments. - -I stood passive and panting, allowing him to beat off the jelly from my -knees and elbows and lecture me upon my misfortunes. “We don’t quite -allow for the gravitation. Our muscles are scarcely educated yet. We -must practise a little, when you have got your breath.” - -I pulled two or three little thorns out of my hand, and sat for a time -on a boulder of rock. My muscles were quivering, and I had that feeling -of personal disillusionment that comes at the first fall to the learner -of cycling on earth. - -It suddenly occurred to Cavor that the cold air in the gully, after the -brightness of the sun, might give me a fever. So we clambered back into -the sunlight. We found that beyond a few abrasions I had received no -serious injuries from my tumble, and at Cavor’s suggestion we were -presently looking round for some safe and easy landing-place for my -next leap. We chose a rocky slab some ten yards off, separated from us -by a little thicket of olive-green spikes. - -“Imagine it there!” said Cavor, who was assuming the airs of a trainer, -and he pointed to a spot about four feet from my toes. This leap I -managed without difficulty, and I must confess I found a certain -satisfaction in Cavor’s falling short by a foot or so and tasting the -spikes of the scrub. “One has to be careful, you see,” he said, pulling -out his thorns, and with that he ceased to be my mentor and became my -fellow-learner in the art of lunar locomotion. - -We chose a still easier jump and did it without difficulty, and then -leapt back again, and to and fro several times, accustoming our muscles -to the new standard. I could never have believed had I not experienced -it, how rapid that adaptation would be. In a very little time indeed, -certainly after fewer than thirty leaps, we could judge the effort -necessary for a distance with almost terrestrial assurance. - -And all this time the lunar plants were growing around us, higher and -denser and more entangled, every moment thicker and taller, spiked -plants, green cactus masses, fungi, fleshy and lichenous things, -strangest radiate and sinuous shapes. But we were so intent upon our -leaping, that for a time we gave no heed to their unfaltering -expansion. - -An extraordinary elation had taken possession of us. Partly, I think, -it was our sense of release from the confinement of the sphere. Mainly, -however, the thin sweetness of the air, which I am certain contained a -much larger proportion of oxygen than our terrestrial atmosphere. In -spite of the strange quality of all about us, I felt as adventurous and -experimental as a cockney would do placed for the first time among -mountains and I do not think it occurred to either of us, face to face -though we were with the unknown, to be very greatly afraid. - -We were bitten by a spirit of enterprise. We selected a lichenous kopje -perhaps fifteen yards away, and landed neatly on its summit one after -the other. “Good!” we cried to each other; “good!” and Cavor made three -steps and went off to a tempting slope of snow a good twenty yards and -more beyond. I stood for a moment struck by the grotesque effect of his -soaring figure—his dirty cricket cap, and spiky hair, his little round -body, his arms and his knicker-bockered legs tucked up tightly—against -the weird spaciousness of the lunar scene. A gust of laughter seized -me, and then I stepped off to follow. Plump! I dropped beside him. - -We made a few gargantuan strides, leapt three or four times more, and -sat down at last in a lichenous hollow. Our lungs were painful. We sat -holding our sides and recovering our breath, looking appreciation to -one another. Cavor panted something about “amazing sensations.” And -then came a thought into my head. For the moment it did not seem a -particularly appalling thought, simply a natural question arising out -of the situation. - -“By the way,” I said, “where exactly is the sphere?” - -Cavor looked at me. “Eh?” - -The full meaning of what we were saying struck me sharply. - -“Cavor!” I cried, laying a hand on his arm, “where is the sphere?” - - - - -X. -Lost Men in the Moon - - -His face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about -him at the scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward -in a passion of growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke -with a sudden lack of assurance. “I think,” he said slowly, “we left it -... somewhere ... about _there_.” - -He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc. - -“I’m not sure.” His look of consternation deepened. “Anyhow,” he said, -with his eyes on me, “it can’t be far.” - -We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought -in the twining, thickening jungle round about us. - -All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed and swayed the darting -shrubs, the swelling cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever the -shade remained the snow-drifts lingered. North, south, east, and west -spread an identical monotony of unfamiliar forms. And somewhere, buried -already among this tangled confusion, was our sphere, our home, our -only provision, our only hope of escape from this fantastic wilderness -of ephemeral growths into which we had come. - -“I think after all,” he said, pointing suddenly, “it might be over -there.” - -“No,” I said. “We have turned in a curve. See! here is the mark of my -heels. It’s clear the thing must be more to the eastward, much more. -No—the sphere must be over there.” - -“I _think_,” said Cavor, “I kept the sun upon my right all the time.” - -“Every leap, it seems to _me_,” I said, “my shadow flew before me.” - -We stared into one another’s eyes. The area of the crater had become -enormously vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets already -impenetrably dense. - -“Good heavens! What fools we have been!” - -“It’s evident that we must find it again,” said Cavor, “and that soon. -The sun grows stronger. We should be fainting with the heat already if -it wasn’t so dry. And ... I’m hungry.” - -I stared at him. I had not suspected this aspect of the matter before. -But it came to me at once—a positive craving. “Yes,” I said with -emphasis. “I am hungry too.” - -He stood up with a look of active resolution. “Certainly we must find -the sphere.” - -As calmly as possible we surveyed the interminable reefs and thickets -that formed the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in silence the -chances of our finding the sphere before we were overtaken by heat and -hunger. - -“It can’t be fifty yards from here,” said Cavor, with indecisive -gestures. “The only thing is to beat round about until we come upon -it.” - -“That is all we can do,” I said, without any alacrity to begin our -hunt. “I wish this confounded spike bush did not grow so fast!” - -“That’s just it,” said Cavor. “But it was lying on a bank of snow.” - -I stared about me in the vain hope of recognising some knoll or shrub -that had been near the sphere. But everywhere was a confusing sameness, -everywhere the aspiring bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling -snow banks, steadily and inevitably changed. The sun scorched and -stung, the faintness of an unaccountable hunger mingled with our -infinite perplexity. And even as we stood there, confused and lost -amidst unprecedented things, we became aware for the first time of a -sound upon the moon other than the air of the growing plants, the faint -sighing of the wind, or those that we ourselves had made. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. - -It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear -it with our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull resonance was -muffled by distance, thick with the quality of intervening substance. -No sound that I can imagine could have astonished us more, or have -changed more completely the quality of things about us. For this sound, -rich, slow, and deliberate, seemed to us as though it could be nothing -but the striking of some gigantic buried clock. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. - -Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleepless nights in crowded -cities, of vigils and the awaited hour, of all that is orderly and -methodical in life, booming out pregnant and mysterious in this -fantastic desert! To the eye everything was unchanged: the desolation -of bushes and cacti waving silently in the wind, stretched unbroken to -the distant cliffs, the still dark sky was empty overhead, and the hot -sun hung and burned. And through it all, a warning, a threat, throbbed -this enigma of sound. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom.... - -We questioned one another in faint and faded voices. - -“A clock?” - -“Like a clock!” - -“What is it?” - -“What can it be?” - -“Count,” was Cavor’s belated suggestion, and at that word the striking -ceased. - -The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a -fresh shock. For a moment one could doubt whether one had ever heard a -sound. Or whether it might not still be going on. Had I indeed heard a -sound? - -I felt the pressure of Cavor’s hand upon my arm. He spoke in an -undertone, as though he feared to wake some sleeping thing. “Let us -keep together,” he whispered, “and look for the sphere. We must get -back to the sphere. This is beyond our understanding.” - -“Which way shall we go?” - -He hesitated. An intense persuasion of presences, of unseen things -about us and near us, dominated our minds. What could they be? Where -could they be? Was this arid desolation, alternately frozen and -scorched, only the outer rind and mask of some subterranean world? And -if so, what sort of world? What sort of inhabitants might it not -presently disgorge upon us? - -And then, stabbing the aching stillness as vivid and sudden as an -unexpected thunderclap, came a clang and rattle as though great gates -of metal had suddenly been flung apart. - -It arrested our steps. We stood gaping helplessly. Then Cavor stole -towards me. - -“I do not understand!” he whispered close to my face. He waved his hand -vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of still vaguer thoughts. - -“A hiding-place! If anything came...” - -I looked about us. I nodded my head in assent to him. - -We started off, moving stealthily with the most exaggerated precautions -against noise. We went towards a thicket of scrub. A clangour like -hammers flung about a boiler hastened our steps. “We must crawl,” -whispered Cavor. - -The lower leaves of the bayonet plants, already overshadowed by the -newer ones above, were beginning to wilt and shrivel so that we could -thrust our way in among the thickening stems without serious injury. A -stab in the face or arm we did not heed. At the heart of the thicket I -stopped, and stared panting into Cavor’s face. - -“Subterranean,” he whispered. “Below.” - -“They may come out.” - -“We must find the sphere!” - -“Yes,” I said; “but how?” - -“Crawl till we come to it.” - -“But if we don’t?” - -“Keep hidden. See what they are like.” - -“We will keep together,” said I. - -He thought. “Which way shall we go?” - -“We must take our chance.” - -We peered this way and that. Then very circumspectly, we began to crawl -through the lower jungle, making, so far as we could judge, a circuit, -halting now at every waving fungus, at every sound, intent only on the -sphere from which we had so foolishly emerged. Ever and again from out -of the earth beneath us came concussions, beatings, strange, -inexplicable, mechanical sounds; and once, and then again, we thought -we heard something, a faint rattle and tumult, borne to us through the -air. But fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage-point to survey -the crater. For long we saw nothing of the beings whose sounds were so -abundant and insistent. But for the faintness of our hunger and the -drying of our throats that crawling would have had the quality of a -very vivid dream. It was so absolutely unreal. The only element with -any touch of reality was these sounds. - -Picture it to yourself! About us the dream-like jungle, with the silent -bayonet leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, sun-splashed -lichens under our hands and knees, waving with the vigour of their -growth as a carpet waves when the wind gets beneath it. Ever and again -one of the bladder fungi, bulging and distending under the sun, loomed -upon us. Ever and again some novel shape in vivid colour obtruded. The -very cells that built up these plants were as large as my thumb, like -beads of coloured glass. And all these things were saturated in the -unmitigated glare of the sun, were seen against a sky that was bluish -black and spangled still, in spite of the sunlight, with a few -surviving stars. Strange! the very forms and texture of the stones were -strange. It was all strange, the feeling of one’s body was -unprecedented, every other movement ended in a surprise. The breath -sucked thin in one’s throat, the blood flowed through one’s ears in a -throbbing tide—thud, thud, thud, thud.... - -And ever and again came gusts of turmoil, hammering, the clanging and -throb of machinery, and presently—the bellowing of great beasts! - - - - -XI. -The Mooncalf Pastures - - -So we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in that wild-growing moon -jungle, crawled in terror before the sounds that had come upon us. We -crawled, as it seemed, a long time before we saw either Selenite or -mooncalf, though we heard the bellowing and gruntulous noises of these -latter continually drawing nearer to us. We crawled through stony -ravines, over snow slopes, amidst fungi that ripped like thin bladders -at our thrust, emitting a watery humour, over a perfect pavement of -things like puff-balls, and beneath interminable thickets of scrub. And -ever more helplessly our eyes sought for our abandoned sphere. The -noise of the mooncalves would at times be a vast flat calf-like sound, -at times it rose to an amazed and wrathy bellowing, and again it would -become a clogged bestial sound, as though these unseen creatures had -sought to eat and bellow at the same time. - -Our first view was but an inadequate transitory glimpse, yet none the -less disturbing because it was incomplete. Cavor was crawling in front -at the time, and he first was aware of their proximity. He stopped -dead, arresting me with a single gesture. - -A crackling and smashing of the scrub appeared to be advancing directly -upon us, and then, as we squatted close and endeavoured to judge of the -nearness and direction of this noise, there came a terrific bellow -behind us, so close and vehement that the tops of the bayonet scrub -bent before it, and one felt the breath of it hot and moist. And, -turning about, we saw indistinctly through a crowd of swaying stems the -mooncalf’s shining sides, and the long line of its back loomed out -against the sky. - -Of course it is hard for me now to say how much I saw at that time, -because my impressions were corrected by subsequent observation. First -of all impressions was its enormous size; the girth of its body was -some fourscore feet, its length perhaps two hundred. Its sides rose and -fell with its laboured breathing. I perceived that its gigantic, flabby -body lay along the ground, and that its skin was of a corrugated white, -dappling into blackness along the backbone. But of its feet we saw -nothing. I think also that we saw then the profile at least of the -almost brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, its slobbering -omnivorous mouth, its little nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For the -mooncalf invariably shuts its eyes in the presence of the sun.) We had -a glimpse of a vast red pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and bellow -again; we had a breath from the pit, and then the monster heeled over -like a ship, dragged forward along the ground, creasing all its -leathery skin, rolled again, and so wallowed past us, smashing a path -amidst the scrub, and was speedily hidden from our eyes by the dense -interlacings beyond. Another appeared more distantly, and then another, -and then, as though he was guiding these animated lumps of provender to -their pasture, a Selenite came momentarily into ken. My grip upon -Cavor’s foot became convulsive at the sight of him, and we remained -motionless and peering long after he had passed out of our range. - -By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed a trivial being, a mere ant, -scarcely five feet high. He was wearing garments of some leathery -substance, so that no portion of his actual body appeared, but of this, -of course, we were entirely ignorant. He presented himself, therefore, -as a compact, bristling creature, having much of the quality of a -complicated insect, with whip-like tentacles and a clanging arm -projecting from his shining cylindrical body case. The form of his head -was hidden by his enormous many-spiked helmet—we discovered afterwards -that he used the spikes for prodding refractory mooncalves—and a pair -of goggles of darkened glass, set very much at the side, gave a -bird-like quality to the metallic apparatus that covered his face. His -arms did not project beyond his body case, and he carried himself upon -short legs that, wrapped though they were in warm coverings, seemed to -our terrestrial eyes inordinately flimsy. They had very short thighs, -very long shanks, and little feet. - -In spite of his heavy-looking clothing, he was progressing with what -would be, from the terrestrial point of view, very considerable -strides, and his clanging arm was busy. The quality of his motion -during the instant of his passing suggested haste and a certain anger, -and soon after we had lost sight of him we heard the bellow of a -mooncalf change abruptly into a short, sharp squeal followed by the -scuffle of its acceleration. And gradually that bellowing receded, and -then came to an end, as if the pastures sought had been attained. - -We listened. For a space the moon world was still. But it was some time -before we resumed our crawling search for the vanished sphere. - -When next we saw mooncalves they were some little distance away from us -in a place of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces of the rocks -were thick with a speckled green plant growing in dense mossy clumps, -upon which these creatures were browsing. We stopped at the edge of the -reeds amidst which we were crawling at the sight of them, peering out -at then and looking round for a second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay -against their food like stupendous slugs, huge, greasy hulls, eating -greedily and noisily, with a sort of sobbing avidity. They seemed -monsters of mere fatness, clumsy and overwhelmed to a degree that would -make a Smithfield ox seem a model of agility. Their busy, writhing, -chewing mouths, and eyes closed, together with the appetising sound of -their munching, made up an effect of animal enjoyment that was -singularly stimulating to our empty frames. - -“Hogs!” said Cavor, with unusual passion. “Disgusting hogs!” and after -one glare of angry envy crawled off through the bushes to our right. I -stayed long enough to see that the speckled plant was quite hopeless -for human nourishment, then crawled after him, nibbling a quill of it -between my teeth. - -Presently we were arrested again by the proximity of a Selenite, and -this time we were able to observe him more exactly. Now we could see -that the Selenite covering was indeed clothing, and not a sort of -crustacean integument. He was quite similar in his costume to the -former one we had glimpsed, except that ends of something like wadding -were protruding from his neck, and he stood on a promontory of rock and -moved his head this way and that, as though he was surveying the -crater. We lay quite still, fearing to attract his attention if we -moved, and after a time he turned about and disappeared. - -We came upon another drove of mooncalves bellowing up a ravine, and -then we passed over a place of sounds, sounds of beating machinery as -if some huge hall of industry came near the surface there. And while -these sounds were still about us we came to the edge of a great open -space, perhaps two hundred yards in diameter, and perfectly level. Save -for a few lichens that advanced from its margin this space was bare, -and presented a powdery surface of a dusty yellow colour. We were -afraid to strike out across this space, but as it presented less -obstruction to our crawling than the scrub, we went down upon it and -began very circumspectly to skirt its edge. - -For a little while the noises from below ceased and everything, save -for the faint stir of the growing vegetation, was very still. Then -abruptly there began an uproar, louder, more vehement, and nearer than -any we had so far heard. Of a certainty it came from below. -Instinctively we crouched as flat as we could, ready for a prompt -plunge into the thicket beside us. Each knock and throb seemed to -vibrate through our bodies. Louder grew this throbbing and beating, and -that irregular vibration increased until the whole moon world seemed to -be jerking and pulsing. - -“Cover,” whispered Cavor, and I turned towards the bushes. - -At that instant came a thud like the thud of a gun, and then a thing -happened—it still haunts me in my dreams. I had turned my head to look -at Cavor’s face, and thrust out my hand in front of me as I did so. And -my hand met nothing! I plunged suddenly into a bottomless hole! - -My chest hit something hard, and I found myself with my chin on the -edge of an unfathomable abyss that had suddenly opened beneath me, my -hand extended stiffly into the void. The whole of that flat circular -area was no more than a gigantic lid, that was now sliding sideways -from off the pit it had covered into a slot prepared for it. - -Had it not been for Cavor I think I should have remained rigid, hanging -over this margin and staring into the enormous gulf below, until at -last the edges of the slot scraped me off and hurled me into its -depths. But Cavor had not received the shock that had paralysed me. He -had been a little distance from the edge when the lid had first opened, -and perceiving the peril that held me helpless, gripped my legs and -pulled me backward. I came into a sitting position, crawled away from -the edge for a space on all fours, then staggered up and ran after him -across the thundering, quivering sheet of metal. It seemed to be -swinging open with a steadily accelerated velocity, and the bushes in -front of me shifted sideways as I ran. - -I was none too soon. Cavor’s back vanished amidst the bristling -thicket, and as I scrambled up after him, the monstrous valve came into -its position with a clang. For a long time we lay panting, not daring -to approach the pit. - -But at last very cautiously and bit by bit we crept into a position -from which we could peer down. The bushes about us creaked and waved -with the force of a breeze that was blowing down the shaft. We could -see nothing at first except smooth vertical walls descending at last -into an impenetrable black. And then very gradually we became aware of -a number of very faint and little lights going to and fro. - -For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery held us so that we forgot -even our sphere. In time, as we grew more accustomed to the darkness, -we could make out very small, dim, elusive shapes moving about among -those needle-point illuminations. We peered amazed and incredulous, -understanding so little that we could find no words to say. We could -distinguish nothing that would give us a clue to the meaning of the -faint shapes we saw. - -“What can it be?” I asked; “what can it be?” - -“The engineering!... They must live in these caverns during the night, -and come out during the day.” - -“Cavor!” I said. “Can they be—_that_—it was something like—men?” - -“_That_ was not a man.” - -“We dare risk nothing!” - -“We dare do nothing until we find the sphere!” - -“We _can_ do nothing until we find the sphere.” - -He assented with a groan and stirred himself to move. He stared about -him for a space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We struck out -through the jungle. For a time we crawled resolutely, then with -diminishing vigour. Presently among great shapes of flabby purple there -came a noise of trampling and cries about us. We lay close, and for a -long time the sounds went to and fro and very near. But this time we -saw nothing. I tried to whisper to Cavor that I could hardly go without -food much longer, but my mouth had become too dry for whispering. - -“Cavor,” I said, “I must have food.” - -He turned a face full of dismay towards me. “It’s a case for holding -out,” he said. - -“But I _must_,” I said, “and look at my lips!” - -“I’ve been thirsty some time.” - -“If only some of that snow had remained!” - -“It’s clean gone! We’re driving from arctic to tropical at the rate of -a degree a minute....” - -I gnawed my hand. - -“The sphere!” he said. “There is nothing for it but the sphere.” - -We roused ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My mind ran entirely -on edible things, on the hissing profundity of summer drinks, more -particularly I craved for beer. I was haunted by the memory of a -sixteen gallon cask that had swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I thought -of the adjacent larder, and especially of steak and kidney pie—tender -steak and plenty of kidney, and rich, thick gravy between. Ever and -again I was seized with fits of hungry yawning. We came to flat places -overgrown with fleshy red things, monstrous coralline growths; as we -pushed against them they snapped and broke. I noted the quality of the -broken surfaces. The confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable -texture. Then it seemed to me that it smelt rather well. - -I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. - -“Cavor,” I said in a hoarse undertone. - -He glanced at me with his face screwed up. “Don’t,” he said. I put down -the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for a -space. - -“Cavor,” I asked, “why _not?_” - -“Poison,” I heard him say, but he did not look round. - -We crawled some way before I decided. - -“I’ll chance it,” said I. - -He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He -crouched watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression. -“It’s good,” I said. - -“O Lord!” he cried. - -He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval, -then suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge -mouthfuls. For a time we did nothing but eat. - -The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer -in texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we -experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood -began to run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then -new and slightly irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds. - -“It’s good,” said I. “Infernally good! What a home for our surplus -population! Our poor surplus population,” and I broke off another large -portion. It filled me with a curiously benevolent satisfaction that -there was such good food in the moon. The depression of my hunger gave -way to an irrational exhilaration. The dread and discomfort in which I -had been living vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no longer as a -planet from which I most earnestly desired the means of escape, but as -a possible refuge from human destitution. I think I forgot the -Selenites, the mooncalves, the lid, and the noises completely so soon -as I had eaten that fungus. - -Cavor replied to my third repetition of my “surplus population” remark -with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put -this down to the stimulating effect of food after a long fast. -“Ess’lent discov’ry yours, Cavor,” said I. “Se’nd on’y to the ‘tato.” - -“Whajer mean?” asked Cavor. “‘Scovery of the moon—se’nd on’y to the -tato?” - -I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly hoarse voice, and by the -badness of his articulation. It occurred to me in a flash that he was -intoxicated, possibly by the fungus. It also occurred to me that he -erred in imagining that he had discovered the moon; he had not -discovered it, he had only reached it. I tried to lay my hand on his -arm and explain this to him, but the issue was too subtle for his -brain. It was also unexpectedly difficult to express. After a momentary -attempt to understand me—I remember wondering if the fungus had made my -eyes as fishy as his—he set off upon some observations on his own -account. - -“We are,” he announced with a solemn hiccup, “the creashurs o’ what we -eat and drink.” - -He repeated this, and as I was now in one of my subtle moods, I -determined to dispute it. Possibly I wandered a little from the point. -But Cavor certainly did not attend at all properly. He stood up as well -as he could, putting a hand on my head to steady himself, which was -disrespectful, and stood staring about him, quite devoid now of any -fear of the moon beings. - -I tried to point out that this was dangerous for some reason that was -not perfectly clear to me, but the word “dangerous” had somehow got -mixed with “indiscreet,” and came out rather more like “injurious” than -either; and after an attempt to disentangle them, I resumed my -argument, addressing myself principally to the unfamiliar but attentive -coralline growths on either side. I felt that it was necessary to clear -up this confusion between the moon and a potato at once—I wandered into -a long parenthesis on the importance of precision of definition in -argument. I did my best to ignore the fact that my bodily sensations -were no longer agreeable. - -In some way that I have now forgotten, my mind was led back to projects -of colonisation. “We must annex this moon,” I said. “There must be no -shilly-shally. This is part of the White Man’s Burthen. Cavor—we -are—_hic_—Satap—mean Satraps! Nempire Cæsar never dreamt. B’in all the -newspapers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. Bedfordecia—hic—Limited. -Mean—unlimited! Practically.” - -Certainly I was intoxicated. - -I embarked upon an argument to show the infinite benefits our arrival -would confer on the moon. I involved myself in a rather difficult proof -that the arrival of Columbus was, on the whole, beneficial to America. -I found I had forgotten the line of argument I had intended to pursue, -and continued to repeat “sim’lar to C’lumbus,” to fill up time. - -From that point my memory of the action of that abominable fungus -becomes confused. I remember vaguely that we declared our intention of -standing no nonsense from any confounded insects, that we decided it -ill became men to hide shamefully upon a mere satellite, that we -equipped ourselves with huge armfuls of the fungus—whether for missile -purposes or not I do not know—and, heedless of the stabs of the bayonet -scrub, we started forth into the sunshine. - -Almost immediately we must have come upon the Selenites. There were six -of them, and they were marching in single file over a rocky place, -making the most remarkable piping and whining sounds. They all seemed -to become aware of us at once, all instantly became silent and -motionless, like animals, with their faces turned towards us. - -For a moment I was sobered. - -“Insects,” murmured Cavor, “insects! And they think I’m going to crawl -about on my stomach—on my vertebrated stomach! - -“Stomach,” he repeated slowly, as though he chewed the indignity. - -Then suddenly, with a sort of fury, he made three vast strides and -leapt towards them. He leapt badly; he made a series of somersaults in -the air, whirled right over them, and vanished with an enormous splash -amidst the cactus bladders. What the Selenites made of this amazing, -and to my mind undignified irruption from another planet, I have no -means of guessing. I seem to remember the sight of their backs as they -ran in all directions, but I am not sure. All these last incidents -before oblivion came are vague and faint in my mind. I know I made a -step to follow Cavor, and tripped and fell headlong among the rocks. I -was, I am certain, suddenly and vehemently ill. I seem to remember a -violent struggle and being gripped by metallic clasps.... - -My next clear recollection is that we were prisoners at we knew not -what depths beneath the moon’s surface; we were in darkness amidst -strange distracting noises; our bodies were covered with scratches and -bruises, and our heads racked with pain. - - - - -XII. -The Selenite’s Face - - -I found myself sitting crouched together in a tumultuous darkness. For -a long time I could not understand where I was, nor how I had come to -this perplexity. I thought of the cupboard into which I had been thrust -at times when I was a child, and then of a very dark and noisy bedroom -in which I had slept during an illness. But these sounds about me were -not the noises I had known, and there was a thin flavour in the air -like the wind of a stable. Then I supposed we must still be at work -upon the sphere, and that somehow I had got into the cellar of Cavor’s -house. I remembered we had finished the sphere, and fancied I must -still be in it and travelling through space. - -“Cavor,” I said, “cannot we have some light?” - -There came no answer. - -“Cavor!” I insisted. - -I was answered by a groan. “My head!” I heard him say; “my head!” - -I attempted to press my hands to my brow, which ached, and discovered -they were tied together. This startled me very much. I brought them up -to my mouth and felt the cold smoothness of metal. They were chained -together. I tried to separate my legs and made out they were similarly -fastened, and also that I was fastened to the ground by a much thicker -chain about the middle of my body. - -I was more frightened than I had yet been by anything in all our -strange experiences. For a time I tugged silently at my bonds. “Cavor!” -I cried out sharply. “Why am I tied? Why have you tied me hand and -foot?” - -“I haven’t tied you,” he answered. “It’s the Selenites.” - -The Selenites! My mind hung on that for a space. Then my memories came -back to me: the snowy desolation, the thawing of the air, the growth of -the plants, our strange hopping and crawling among the rocks and -vegetation of the crater. All the distress of our frantic search for -the sphere returned to me.... Finally the opening of the great lid that -covered the pit! - -Then as I strained to trace our later movements down to our present -plight, the pain in my head became intolerable. I came to an -insurmountable barrier, an obstinate blank. - -“Cavor!” - -“Yes?” - -“Where are we?” - -“How should I know?” - -“Are we dead?” - -“What nonsense!” - -“They’ve got us, then!” - -He made no answer but a grunt. The lingering traces of the poison -seemed to make him oddly irritable. - -“What do you mean to do?” - -“How should I know what to do?” - -“Oh, very well!” said I, and became silent. Presently, I was roused -from a stupor. “O _Lord!_” I cried; “I wish you’d stop that buzzing!” - -We lapsed into silence again, listening to the dull confusion of noises -like the muffled sounds of a street or factory that filled our ears. I -could make nothing of it, my mind pursued first one rhythm and then -another, and questioned it in vain. But after a long time I became -aware of a new and sharper element, not mingling with the rest but -standing out, as it were, against that cloudy background of sound. It -was a series of relatively very little definite sounds, tappings and -rubbings, like a loose spray of ivy against a window or a bird moving -about upon a box. We listened and peered about us, but the darkness was -a velvet pall. There followed a noise like the subtle movement of the -wards of a well-oiled lock. And then there appeared before me, hanging -as it seemed in an immensity of black, a thin bright line. - -“Look!” whispered Cavor very softly. - -“What is it?” - -“I don’t know.” - -We stared. - -The thin bright line became a band, and broader and paler. It took upon -itself the quality of a bluish light falling upon a white-washed wall. -It ceased to be parallel-sided; it developed a deep indentation on one -side. I turned to remark this to Cavor, and was amazed to see his ear -in a brilliant illumination—all the rest of him in shadow. I twisted my -head round as well as my bonds would permit. “Cavor,” I said, “it’s -behind!” - -His ear vanished—gave place to an eye! - -Suddenly the crack that had been admitting the light broadened out, and -revealed itself as the space of an opening door. Beyond was a sapphire -vista, and in the doorway stood a grotesque outline silhouetted against -the glare. - -We both made convulsive efforts to turn, and failing, sat staring over -our shoulders at this. My first impression was of some clumsy quadruped -with lowered head. Then I perceived it was the slender pinched body and -short and extremely attenuated bandy legs of a Selenite, with his head -depressed between his shoulders. He was without the helmet and body -covering they wear upon the exterior. - -He was a blank, black figure to us, but instinctively our imaginations -supplied features to his very human outline. I, at least, took it -instantly that he was somewhat hunchbacked, with a high forehead and -long features. - -He came forward three steps and paused for a time. His movements seemed -absolutely noiseless. Then he came forward again. He walked like a -bird, his feet fell one in front of the other. He stepped out of the -ray of light that came through the doorway, and it seemed as though he -vanished altogether in the shadow. - -For a moment my eyes sought him in the wrong place, and then I -perceived him standing facing us both in the full light. Only the human -features I had attributed to him were not there at all! - -Of course I ought to have expected that, only I didn’t. It came to me -as an absolute, for a moment an overwhelming shock. It seemed as though -it wasn’t a face, as though it must needs be a mask, a horror, a -deformity, that would presently be disavowed or explained. There was no -nose, and the thing had dull bulging eyes at the side—in the silhouette -I had supposed they were ears. There were no ears.... I have tried to -draw one of these heads, but I cannot. There was a mouth, downwardly -curved, like a human mouth in a face that stares ferociously.... - -The neck on which the head was poised was jointed in three places, -almost like the short joints in the leg of a crab. The joints of the -limbs I could not see, because of the puttee-like straps in which they -were swathed, and which formed the only clothing the being wore. - -There the thing was, looking at us! - -At the time my mind was taken up by the mad impossibility of the -creature. I suppose he also was amazed, and with more reason, perhaps, -for amazement than we. Only, confound him! he did not show it. We did -at least know what had brought about this meeting of incompatible -creatures. But conceive how it would seem to decent Londoners, for -example, to come upon a couple of living things, as big as men and -absolutely unlike any other earthly animals, careering about among the -sheep in Hyde Park! It must have taken him like that. - -Figure us! We were bound hand and foot, fagged and filthy; our beards -two inches long, our faces scratched and bloody. Cavor you must imagine -in his knickerbockers (torn in several places by the bayonet scrub) his -Jaegar shirt and old cricket cap, his wiry hair wildly disordered, a -tail to every quarter of the heavens. In that blue light his face did -not look red but very dark, his lips and the drying blood upon my hands -seemed black. If possible I was in a worse plight than he, on account -of the yellow fungus into which I had jumped. Our jackets were -unbuttoned, and our shoes had been taken off and lay at our feet. And -we were sitting with our backs to this queer bluish light, peering at -such a monster as Durer might have invented. - -Cavor broke the silence; started to speak, went hoarse, and cleared his -throat. Outside began a terrific bellowing, as if a mooncalf were in -trouble. It ended in a shriek, and everything was still again. - -Presently the Selenite turned about, flickered into the shadow, stood -for a moment retrospective at the door, and then closed it on us; and -once more we were in that murmurous mystery of darkness into which we -had awakened. - - - - -XIII. -Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions - - -For a time neither of us spoke. To focus together all the things we had -brought upon ourselves seemed beyond my mental powers. - -“They’ve got us,” I said at last. - -“It was that fungus.” - -“Well—if I hadn’t taken it we should have fainted and starved.” - -“We might have found the sphere.” - -I lost my temper at his persistence, and swore to myself. For a time we -hated one another in silence. I drummed with my fingers on the floor -between my knees, and gritted the links of my fetters together. -Presently I was forced to talk again. - -“What do you make of it, anyhow?” I asked humbly. - -“They are reasonable creatures—they can make things and do things. -Those lights we saw...” - -He stopped. It was clear he could make nothing of it. - -When he spoke again it was to confess, “After all, they are more human -than we had a right to expect. I suppose—” - -He stopped irritatingly. - -“Yes?” - -“I suppose, anyhow—on any planet where there is an intelligent -animal—it will carry its brain case upward, and have hands, and walk -erect.” - -Presently he broke away in another direction. - -“We are some way in,” he said. “I mean—perhaps a couple of thousand -feet or more.” - -“Why?” - -“It’s cooler. And our voices are so much louder. That faded quality—it -has altogether gone. And the feeling in one’s ears and throat.” - -I had not noted that, but I did now. - -“The air is denser. We must be some depths—a mile even, we may -be—inside the moon.” - -“We never thought of a world inside the moon.” - -“No.” - -“How could we?” - -“We might have done. Only one gets into habits of mind.” - -He thought for a time. - -“_Now_,” he said, “it seems such an obvious thing.” - -“Of course! The moon must be enormously cavernous, with an atmosphere -within, and at the centre of its caverns a sea. - -“One knew that the moon had a lower specific gravity than the earth, -one knew that it had little air or water outside, one knew, too, that -it was sister planet to the earth, and that it was unaccountable that -it should be different in composition. The inference that it was -hollowed out was as clear as day. And yet one never saw it as a fact. -Kepler, of course—” - -His voice had the interest now of a man who has discerned a pretty -sequence of reasoning. - -“Yes,” he said, “Kepler with his _sub-volvani_ was right after all.” - -“I wish you had taken the trouble to find that out before we came,” I -said. - -He answered nothing, buzzing to himself softly, as he pursued his -thoughts. My temper was going. - -“What do you think has become of the sphere, anyhow?” I asked. - -“Lost,” he said, like a man who answers an uninteresting question. - -“Among those plants?” - -“Unless they find it.” - -“And then?” - -“How can I tell?” - -“Cavor,” I said, with a sort of hysterical bitterness, “things look -bright for my Company...” - -He made no answer. - -“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “Just think of all the trouble we took to get -into this pickle! What did we come for? What are we after? What was the -moon to us or we to the moon? We wanted too much, we tried too much. We -ought to have started the little things first. It was you proposed the -moon! Those Cavorite spring blinds! I am certain we could have worked -them for terrestrial purposes. Certain! Did you really understand what -I proposed? A steel cylinder—” - -“Rubbish!” said Cavor. - -We ceased to converse. - -For a time Cavor kept up a broken monologue without much help from me. - -“If they find it,” he began, “if they find it ... what will they do -with it? Well, that’s a question. It may be that’s _the_ question. They -won’t understand it, anyhow. If they understood that sort of thing they -would have come long since to the earth. Would they? Why shouldn’t -they? But they would have sent something—they couldn’t keep their hands -off such a possibility. No! But they will examine it. Clearly they are -intelligent and inquisitive. They will examine it—get inside it—trifle -with the studs. Off! ... That would mean the moon for us for all the -rest of our lives. Strange creatures, strange knowledge....” - -“As for strange knowledge—” said I, and language failed me. - -“Look here, Bedford,” said Cavor, “you came on this expedition of your -own free will.” - -“You said to me, ‘Call it prospecting’.” - -“There’s always risks in prospecting.” - -“Especially when you do it unarmed and without thinking out every -possibility.” - -“I was so taken up with the sphere. The thing rushed on us, and carried -us away.” - -“Rushed on _me_, you mean.” - -“Rushed on me just as much. How was I to know when I set to work on -molecular physics that the business would bring me here—of all places?” - -“It’s this accursed science,” I cried. “It’s the very Devil. The -mediæval priests and persecutors were right and the Moderns are all -wrong. You tamper with it—and it offers you gifts. And directly you -take them it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way. Old passions -and new weapons—now it upsets your religion, now it upsets your social -ideas, now it whirls you off to desolation and misery!” - -“Anyhow, it’s no use your quarrelling with me _now_. These -creatures—these Selenites, or whatever we choose to call them—have got -us tied hand and foot. Whatever temper you choose to go through with it -in, you will have to go through with it.... We have experiences before -us that will need all our coolness.” - -He paused as if he required my assent. But I sat sulking. “Confound -your science!” I said. - -“The problem is communication. Gestures, I fear, will be different. -Pointing, for example. No creatures but men and monkeys point.” - -That was too obviously wrong for me. “Pretty nearly every animal,” I -cried, “points with its eyes or nose.” - -Cavor meditated over that. “Yes,” he said at last, “and we don’t. -There’s such differences—such differences!” - -“One might.... But how can I tell? There is speech. The sounds they -make, a sort of fluting and piping. I don’t see how we are to imitate -that. Is it their speech, that sort of thing? They may have different -senses, different means of communication. Of course they are minds and -we are minds; there must be something in common. Who knows how far we -may not get to an understanding?” - -“The things are outside us,” I said. “They’re more different from us -than the strangest animals on earth. They are a different clay. What is -the good of talking like this?” - -Cavor thought. “I don’t see that. Where there are minds they will have -something _similar_—even though they have been evolved on different -planets. Of course if it was a question of instincts, if we or they are -no more than animals—” - -“Well, _are_ they? They’re much more like ants on their hind legs than -human beings, and who ever got to any sort of understanding with ants?” - -“But these machines and clothing! No, I don’t hold with you, Bedford. -The difference is wide—” - -“It’s insurmountable.” - -“The resemblance must bridge it. I remember reading once a paper by the -late Professor Galton on the possibility of communication between the -planets. Unhappily, at that time it did not seem probable that that -would be of any material benefit to me, and I fear I did not give it -the attention I should have done—in view of this state of affairs. -Yet.... Now, let me see! - -“His idea was to begin with those broad truths that must underlie all -conceivable mental existences and establish a basis on those. The great -principles of geometry, to begin with. He proposed to take some leading -proposition of Euclid’s, and show by construction that its truth was -known to us, to demonstrate, for example, that the angles at the base -of an isosceles triangle are equal, and that if the equal sides be -produced the angles on the other side of the base are equal also, or -that the square on the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal -to the sum of the squares on the two other sides. By demonstrating our -knowledge of these things we should demonstrate our possession of a -reasonable intelligence.... Now, suppose I ... I might draw the -geometrical figure with a wet finger, or even trace it in the air....” - -He fell silent. I sat meditating his words. For a time his wild hope of -communication, of interpretation, with these weird beings held me. Then -that angry despair that was a part of my exhaustion and physical misery -resumed its sway. I perceived with a sudden novel vividness the -extraordinary folly of everything I had ever done. “Ass!” I said; “oh, -ass, unutterable ass.... I seem to exist only to go about doing -preposterous things. Why did we ever leave the thing? ... Hopping about -looking for patents and concessions in the craters of the moon!... If -only we had had the sense to fasten a handkerchief to a stick to show -where we had left the sphere!” - -I subsided, fuming. - -“It is clear,” meditated Cavor, “they are intelligent. One can -hypothecate certain things. As they have not killed us at once, they -must have ideas of mercy. Mercy! at any rate of restraint. Possibly of -intercourse. They may meet us. And this apartment and the glimpses we -had of its guardian. These fetters! A high degree of intelligence...” - -“I wish to heaven,” cried I, “I’d thought even twice! Plunge after -plunge. First one fluky start and then another. It was my confidence in -you! _Why_ didn’t I stick to my play? That was what I was equal to. -That was my world and the life I was made for. I could have finished -that play. I’m certain ... it was a good play. I had the scenario as -good as done. Then.... Conceive it! leaping to the moon! -Practically—I’ve thrown my life away! That old woman in the inn near -Canterbury had better sense.” - -I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. The darkness had given place -to that bluish light again. The door was opening, and several noiseless -Selenites were coming into the chamber. I became quite still, staring -at their grotesque faces. - -Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable strangeness changed to interest. -I perceived that the foremost and second carried bowls. One elemental -need at least our minds could understand in common. They were bowls of -some metal that, like our fetters, looked dark in that bluish light; -and each contained a number of whitish fragments. All the cloudy pain -and misery that oppressed me rushed together and took the shape of -hunger. I eyed these bowls wolfishly, and, though it returned to me in -dreams, at that time it seemed a small matter that at the end of the -arms that lowered one towards me were not hands, but a sort of flap and -thumb, like the end of an elephant’s trunk. The stuff in the bowl was -loose in texture, and whitish brown in colour—rather like lumps of some -cold souffle, and it smelt faintly like mushrooms. From a partially -divided carcass of a mooncalf that we presently saw, I am inclined to -believe it must have been mooncalf flesh. - -My hands were so tightly chained that I could barely contrive to reach -the bowl; but when they saw the effort I made, two of them dexterously -released one of the turns about my wrist. Their tentacle hands were -soft and cold to my skin. I immediately seized a mouthful of the food. -It had the same laxness in texture that all organic structures seem to -have upon the moon; it tasted rather like a gauffre or a damp meringue, -but in no way was it disagreeable. I took two other mouthfuls. “I -_wanted_—foo’!” said I, tearing off a still larger piece.... - -For a time we ate with an utter absence of self-consciousness. We ate -and presently drank like tramps in a soup kitchen. Never before nor -since have I been hungry to the ravenous pitch, and save that I have -had this very experience I could never have believed that, a quarter of -a million of miles out of our proper world, in utter perplexity of -soul, surrounded, watched, touched by beings more grotesque and inhuman -than the worst creations of a nightmare, it would be possible for me to -eat in utter forgetfulness of all these things. They stood about us -watching us, and ever and again making a slight elusive twittering that -stood, I suppose, in the stead of speech. I did not even shiver at -their touch. And when the first zeal of my feeding was over, I could -note that Cavor, too, had been eating with the same shameless abandon. - - - - -XIV. -Experiments in intercourse - - -When at last we had made an end of eating, the Selenites linked our -hands closely together again, and then untwisted the chains about our -feet and rebound them, so as to give us a limited freedom of movement. -Then they unfastened the chains about our waists. To do all this they -had to handle us freely, and ever and again one of their queer heads -came down close to my face, or a soft tentacle-hand touched my head or -neck. I don’t remember that I was afraid then or repelled by their -proximity. I think that our incurable anthropomorphism made us imagine -there were human heads inside their masks. The skin, like everything -else, looked bluish, but that was on account of the light; and it was -hard and shiny, quite in the beetle-wing fashion, not soft, or moist, -or hairy, as a vertebrated animal’s would be. Along the crest of the -head was a low ridge of whitish spines running from back to front, and -a much larger ridge curved on either side over the eyes. The Selenite -who untied me used his mouth to help his hands. - -“They seem to be releasing us,” said Cavor. “Remember we are on the -moon! Make no sudden movements!” - -“Are you going to try that geometry?” - -“If I get a chance. But, of course, they may make an advance first.” - -We remained passive, and the Selenites, having finished their -arrangements, stood back from us, and seemed to be looking at us. I say -seemed to be, because as their eyes were at the side and not in front, -one had the same difficulty in determining the direction in which they -were looking as one has in the case of a hen or a fish. They conversed -with one another in their reedy tones, that seemed to me impossible to -imitate or define. The door behind us opened wider, and, glancing over -my shoulder, I saw a vague large space beyond, in which quite a little -crowd of Selenites were standing. They seemed a curiously miscellaneous -rabble. - -“Do they want us to imitate those sounds?” I asked Cavor. - -“I don’t think so,” he said. - -“It seems to me that they are trying to make us understand something.” - -“I can’t make anything of their gestures. Do you notice this one, who -is worrying with his head like a man with an uncomfortable collar?” - -“Let us shake our heads at him.” - -We did that, and finding it ineffectual, attempted an imitation of the -Selenites’ movements. That seemed to interest them. At any rate they -all set up the same movement. But as that seemed to lead to nothing, we -desisted at last and so did they, and fell into a piping argument among -themselves. Then one of them, shorter and very much thicker than the -others, and with a particularly wide mouth, squatted down suddenly -beside Cavor, and put his hands and feet in the same posture as Cavor’s -were bound, and then by a dexterous movement stood up. - -“Cavor,” I shouted, “they want us to get up!” - -He stared open-mouthed. “That’s it!” he said. - -And with much heaving and grunting, because our hands were tied -together, we contrived to struggle to our feet. The Selenites made way -for our elephantine heavings, and seemed to twitter more volubly. As -soon as we were on our feet the thick-set Selenite came and patted each -of our faces with his tentacles, and walked towards the open doorway. -That also was plain enough, and we followed him. We saw that four of -the Selenites standing in the doorway were much taller than the others, -and clothed in the same manner as those we had seen in the crater, -namely, with spiked round helmets and cylindrical body-cases, and that -each of the four carried a goad with spike and guard made of that same -dull-looking metal as the bowls. These four closed about us, one on -either side of each of us, as we emerged from our chamber into the -cavern from which the light had come. - -We did not get our impression of that cavern all at once. Our attention -was taken up by the movements and attitudes of the Selenites -immediately about us, and by the necessity of controlling our motion, -lest we should startle and alarm them and ourselves by some excessive -stride. In front of us was the short, thick-set being who had solved -the problem of asking us to get up, moving with gestures that seemed, -almost all of them, intelligible to us, inviting us to follow him. His -spout-like face turned from one of us to the other with a quickness -that was clearly interrogative. For a time, I say, we were taken up -with these things. - -But at last the great place that formed a background to our movements -asserted itself. It became apparent that the source of much, at least, -of the tumult of sounds which had filled our ears ever since we had -recovered from the stupefaction of the fungus was a vast mass of -machinery in active movement, whose flying and whirling parts were -visible indistinctly over the heads and between the bodies of the -Selenites who walked about us. And not only did the web of sounds that -filled the air proceed from this mechanism, but also the peculiar blue -light that irradiated the whole place. We had taken it as a natural -thing that a subterranean cavern should be artificially lit, and even -now, though the fact was patent to my eyes, I did not really grasp its -import until presently the darkness came. The meaning and structure of -this huge apparatus we saw I cannot explain, because we neither of us -learnt what it was for or how it worked. One after another, big shafts -of metal flung out and up from its centre, their heads travelling in -what seemed to me to be a parabolic path; each dropped a sort of -dangling arm as it rose towards the apex of its flight and plunged down -into a vertical cylinder, forcing this down before it. About it moved -the shapes of tenders, little figures that seemed vaguely different -from the beings about us. As each of the three dangling arms of the -machine plunged down, there was a clank and then a roaring, and out of -the top of the vertical cylinder came pouring this incandescent -substance that lit the place, and ran over as milk runs over a boiling -pot, and dripped luminously into a tank of light below. It was a cold -blue light, a sort of phosphorescent glow but infinitely brighter, and -from the tanks into which it fell it ran in conduits athwart the -cavern. - -Thud, thud, thud, thud, came the sweeping arms of this unintelligible -apparatus, and the light substance hissed and poured. At first the -thing seemed only reasonably large and near to us, and then I saw how -exceedingly little the Selenites upon it seemed, and I realised the -full immensity of cavern and machine. I looked from this tremendous -affair to the faces of the Selenites with a new respect. I stopped, and -Cavor stopped, and stared at this thunderous engine. - -“But this is stupendous!” I said. “What can it be for?” - -Cavor’s blue-lit face was full of an intelligent respect. “I can’t -dream! Surely these beings— Men could not make a thing like that! Look -at those arms, are they on connecting rods?” - -The thick-set Selenite had gone some paces unheeded. He came back and -stood between us and the great machine. I avoided seeing him, because I -guessed somehow that his idea was to beckon us onward. He walked away -in the direction he wished us to go, and turned and came back, and -flicked our faces to attract our attention. - -Cavor and I looked at one another. - -“Cannot we show him we are interested in the machine?” I said. - -“Yes,” said Cavor. “We’ll try that.” He turned to our guide and smiled, -and pointed to the machine, and pointed again, and then to his head, -and then to the machine. By some defect of reasoning he seemed to -imagine that broken English might help these gestures. “Me look ‘im,” -he said, “me think ‘im very much. Yes.” - -His behaviour seemed to check the Selenites in their desire for our -progress for a moment. They faced one another, their queer heads moved, -the twittering voices came quick and liquid. Then one of them, a lean, -tall creature, with a sort of mantle added to the puttee in which the -others were dressed, twisted his elephant trunk of a hand about Cavor’s -waist, and pulled him gently to follow our guide, who again went on -ahead. Cavor resisted. “We may just as well begin explaining ourselves -now. They may think we are new animals, a new sort of mooncalf perhaps! -It is most important that we should show an intelligent interest from -the outset.” - -He began to shake his head violently. “No, no,” he said, “me not come -on one minute. Me look at ‘im.” - -“Isn’t there some geometrical point you might bring in _apropos_ of -that affair?” I suggested, as the Selenites conferred again. - -“Possibly a parabolic—” he began. - -He yelled loudly, and leaped six feet or more! - -One of the four armed moon-men had pricked him with a goad! - -I turned on the goad-bearer behind me with a swift threatening gesture, -and he started back. This and Cavor’s sudden shout and leap clearly -astonished all the Selenites. They receded hastily, facing us. For one -of those moments that seem to last for ever, we stood in angry protest, -with a scattered semicircle of these inhuman beings about us. - -“He pricked me!” said Cavor, with a catching of the voice. - -“I saw him,” I answered. - -“Confound it!” I said to the Selenites; “we’re not going to stand that! -What on earth do you take us for?” - -I glanced quickly right and left. Far away across the blue wilderness -of cavern I saw a number of other Selenites running towards us; broad -and slender they were, and one with a larger head than the others. The -cavern spread wide and low, and receded in every direction into -darkness. Its roof, I remember, seemed to bulge down as if with the -weight of the vast thickness of rocks that prisoned us. There was no -way out of it—no way out of it. Above, below, in every direction, was -the unknown, and these inhuman creatures, with goads and gestures, -confronting us, and we two unsupported men! - - - - -XV. -The Giddy Bridge - - -Just for a moment that hostile pause endured. I suppose that both we -and the Selenites did some very rapid thinking. My clearest impression -was that there was nothing to put my back against, and that we were -bound to be surrounded and killed. The overwhelming folly of our -presence there loomed over me in black, enormous reproach. Why had I -ever launched myself on this mad, inhuman expedition? - -Cavor came to my side and laid his hand on my arm. His pale and -terrified face was ghastly in the blue light. - -“We can’t do anything,” he said. “It’s a mistake. They don’t -understand. We must go. As they want us to go.” - -I looked down at him, and then at the fresh Selenites who were coming -to help their fellows. “If I had my hands free—” - -“It’s no use,” he panted. - -“No.” - -“We’ll go.” - -And he turned about and led the way in the direction that had been -indicated for us. - -I followed, trying to look as subdued as possible, and feeling at the -chains about my wrists. My blood was boiling. I noted nothing more of -that cavern, though it seemed to take a long time before we had marched -across it, or if I noted anything I forgot it as I saw it. My thoughts -were concentrated, I think, upon my chains and the Selenites, and -particularly upon the helmeted ones with the goads. At first they -marched parallel with us, and at a respectful distance, but presently -they were overtaken by three others, and then they drew nearer, until -they were within arms length again. I winced like a beaten horse as -they came near to us. The shorter, thicker Selenite marched at first on -our right flank, but presently came in front of us again. - -How well the picture of that grouping has bitten into my brain; the -back of Cavor’s downcast head just in front of me, and the dejected -droop of his shoulders, and our guide’s gaping visage, perpetually -jerking about him, and the goad-bearers on either side, watchful, yet -open-mouthed—a blue monochrome. And after all, I _do_ remember one -other thing besides the purely personal affair, which is, that a sort -of gutter came presently across the floor of the cavern, and then ran -along by the side of the path of rock we followed. And it was full of -that same bright blue luminous stuff that flowed out of the great -machine. I walked close beside it, and I can testify it radiated not a -particle of heat. It was brightly shining, and yet it was neither -warmer nor colder than anything else in the cavern. - -Clang, clang, clang, we passed right under the thumping levers of -another vast machine, and so came at last to a wide tunnel, in which we -could even hear the pad, pad, of our shoeless feet, and which, save for -the trickling thread of blue to the right of us, was quite unlit. The -shadows made gigantic travesties of our shapes and those of the -Selenites on the irregular wall and roof of the tunnel. Ever and again -crystals in the walls of the tunnel scintillated like gems, ever and -again the tunnel expanded into a stalactitic cavern, or gave off -branches that vanished into darkness. - -We seemed to be marching down that tunnel for a long time. “Trickle, -trickle,” went the flowing light very softly, and our footfalls and -their echoes made an irregular paddle, paddle. My mind settled down to -the question of my chains. If I were to slip off one turn _so_, and -then to twist it _so_ ... - -If I tried to do it very gradually, would they see I was slipping my -wrist out of the looser turn? If they did, what would they do? - -“Bedford,” said Cavor, “it goes down. It keeps on going down.” - -His remark roused me from my sullen pre-occupation. - -“If they wanted to kill us,” he said, dropping back to come level with -me, “there is no reason why they should not have done it.” - -“No,” I admitted, “that’s true.” - -“They don’t understand us,” he said, “they think we are merely strange -animals, some wild sort of mooncalf birth, perhaps. It will be only -when they have observed us better that they will begin to think we have -minds—” - -“When you trace those geometrical problems,” said I. - -“It may be that.” - -We tramped on for a space. - -“You see,” said Cavor, “these may be Selenites of a lower class.” - -“The infernal fools!” said I viciously, glancing at their exasperating -faces. - -“If we endure what they do to us—” - -“We’ve got to endure it,” said I. - -“There may be others less stupid. This is the mere outer fringe of -their world. It must go down and down, cavern, passage, tunnel, down at -last to the sea—hundreds of miles below.” - -His words made me think of the mile or so of rock and tunnel that might -be over our heads already. It was like a weight dropping on my -shoulders. “Away from the sun and air,” I said. “Even a mine half a -mile deep is stuffy.” - -“This is not, anyhow. It’s probable—Ventilation! The air would blow -from the dark side of the moon to the sunlit, and all the carbonic acid -would well out there and feed those plants. Up this tunnel, for -example, there is quite a breeze. And what a world it must be. The -earnest we have in that shaft, and those machines—” - -“And the goad,” I said. “Don’t forget the goad!” - -He walked a little in front of me for a time. - -“Even that goad—” he said. - -“Well?” - -“I was angry at the time. But—it was perhaps necessary we should get -on. They have different skins, and probably different nerves. They may -not understand our objection—just as a being from Mars might not like -our earthly habit of nudging.” - -“They’d better be careful how they nudge _me_.” - -“And about that geometry. After all, their way is a way of -understanding, too. They begin with the elements of life and not of -thought. Food. Compulsion. Pain. They strike at fundamentals.” - -“There’s no doubt about _that_,” I said. - -He went on to talk of the enormous and wonderful world into which we -were being taken. I realised slowly from his tone, that even now he was -not absolutely in despair at the prospect of going ever deeper into -this inhuman planet-burrow. His mind ran on machines and invention, to -the exclusion of a thousand dark things that beset me. It wasn’t that -he intended to make any use of these things, he simply wanted to know -them. - -“After all,” he said, “this is a tremendous occasion. It is the meeting -of two worlds! What are we going to see? Think of what is below us -here.” - -“We shan’t see much if the light isn’t better,” I remarked. - -“This is only the outer crust. Down below— On this scale— There will be -everything. Do you notice how different they seem one from another? The -story we shall take back!” - -“Some rare sort of animal,” I said, “might comfort himself in that way -while they were bringing him to the Zoo.... It doesn’t follow that we -are going to be shown all these things.” - -“When they find we have reasonable minds,” said Cavor, “they will want -to learn about the earth. Even if they have no generous emotions, they -will teach in order to learn.... And the things they must know! The -unanticipated things!” - -He went on to speculate on the possibility of their knowing things he -had never hoped to learn on earth, speculating in that way, with a raw -wound from that goad already in his skin! Much that he said I forget, -for my attention was drawn to the fact that the tunnel along which we -had been marching was opening out wider and wider. We seemed, from the -feeling of the air, to be going out into a huge space. But how big the -space might really be we could not tell, because it was unlit. Our -little stream of light ran in a dwindling thread and vanished far -ahead. Presently the rocky walls had vanished altogether on either -hand. There was nothing to be seen but the path in front of us and the -trickling hurrying rivulet of blue phosphorescence. The figures of -Cavor and the guiding Selenite marched before me, the sides of their -legs and heads that were towards the rivulet were clear and bright -blue, their darkened sides, now that the reflection of the tunnel wall -no longer lit them, merged indistinguishably in the darkness beyond. - -And soon I perceived that we were approaching a declivity of some sort, -because the little blue stream dipped suddenly out of sight. - -In another moment, as it seemed, we had reached the edge. The shining -stream gave one meander of hesitation and then rushed over. It fell to -a depth at which the sound of its descent was absolutely lost to us. -Far below was a bluish glow, a sort of blue mist—at an infinite -distance below. And the darkness the stream dropped out of became -utterly void and black, save that a thing like a plank projected from -the edge of the cliff and stretched out and faded and vanished -altogether. There was a warm air blowing up out of the gulf. - -For a moment I and Cavor stood as near the edge as we dared, peering -into a blue-tinged profundity. And then our guide was pulling at my -arm. - -Then he left me, and walked to the end of that plank and stepped upon -it, looking back. Then when he perceived we watched him, he turned -about and went on along it, walking as surely as though he was on firm -earth. For a moment his form was distinct, then he became a blue blur, -and then vanished into the obscurity. I became aware of some vague -shape looming darkly out of the black. - -There was a pause. “Surely!—” said Cavor. - -One of the other Selenites walked a few paces out upon the plank, and -turned and looked back at us unconcernedly. The others stood ready to -follow after us. Our guide’s expectant figure reappeared. He was -returning to see why we had not advanced. - -“What is that beyond there?” I asked. - -“I can’t see.” - -“We can’t cross this at any price,” said I. - -“I could not go three steps on it,” said Cavor, “even with my hands -free.” - -We looked at each other’s drawn faces in blank consternation. - -“They can’t know what it is to be giddy!” said Cavor. - -“It’s quite impossible for us to walk that plank.” - -“I don’t believe they see as we do. I’ve been watching them. I wonder -if they know this is simply blackness for us. How can we make them -understand?” - -“Anyhow, we must make them understand.” - -I think we said these things with a vague half hope the Selenites might -somehow understand. I knew quite clearly that all that was needed was -an explanation. Then as I saw their faces, I realised that an -explanation was impossible. Just here it was that our resemblances were -not going to bridge our differences. Well, I wasn’t going to walk the -plank, anyhow. I slipped my wrist very quickly out of the coil of chain -that was loose, and then began to twist my wrists in opposite -directions. I was standing nearest to the bridge, and as I did this two -of the Selenites laid hold of me, and pulled me gently towards it. - -I shook my head violently. “No go,” I said, “no use. You don’t -understand.” - -Another Selenite added his compulsion. I was forced to step forward. - -“I’ve got an idea,” said Cavor; but I knew his ideas. - -“Look here!” I exclaimed to the Selenites. “Steady on! It’s all very -well for you—” - -I sprang round upon my heel. I burst out into curses. For one of the -armed Selenites had stabbed me behind with his goad. - -I wrenched my wrists free from the little tentacles that held them. I -turned on the goad-bearer. “Confound you!” I cried. “I’ve warned you of -that. What on earth do you think I’m made of, to stick that into me? If -you touch me again—” - -By way of answer he pricked me forthwith. - -I heard Cavor’s voice in alarm and entreaty. Even then I think he -wanted to compromise with these creatures. “I say, Bedford,” he cried, -“I know a way!” But the sting of that second stab seemed to set free -some pent-up reserve of energy in my being. Instantly the link of the -wrist-chain snapped, and with it snapped all considerations that had -held us unresisting in the hands of these moon creatures. For that -second, at least, I was mad with fear and anger. I took no thought of -consequences. I hit straight out at the face of the thing with the -goad. The chain was twisted round my fist. - -There came another of these beastly surprises of which the moon world -is full. - -My mailed hand seemed to go clean through him. He smashed like—like -some softish sort of sweet with liquid in it! He broke right in! He -squelched and splashed. It was like hitting a damp toadstool. The -flimsy body went spinning a dozen yards, and fell with a flabby impact. -I was astonished. I was incredulous that any living thing could be so -flimsy. For an instant I could have believed the whole thing a dream. - -Then it had become real and imminent again. Neither Cavor nor the other -Selenites seemed to have done anything from the time when I had turned -about to the time when the dead Selenite hit the ground. Every one -stood back from us two, every one alert. That arrest seemed to last at -least a second after the Selenite was down. Every one must have been -taking the thing in. I seem to remember myself standing with my arm -half retracted, trying also to take it in. “What next?” clamoured my -brain; “what next?” Then in a moment every one was moving! - -I perceived we must get our chains loose, and that before we could do -this these Selenites had to be beaten off. I faced towards the group of -the three goad-bearers. Instantly one threw his goad at me. It swished -over my head, and I suppose went flying into the abyss behind. - -I leaped right at him with all my might as the goad flew over me. He -turned to run as I jumped, and I bore him to the ground, came down -right upon him, and slipped upon his smashed body and fell. He seemed -to wriggle under my foot. - -I came into a sitting position, and on every hand the blue backs of the -Selenites were receding into the darkness. I bent a link by main force -and untwisted the chain that had hampered me about the ankles, and -sprang to my feet, with the chain in my hand. Another goad, flung -javelin-wise, whistled by me, and I made a rush towards the darkness -out of which it had come. Then I turned back towards Cavor, who was -still standing in the light of the rivulet near the gulf convulsively -busy with his wrists, and at the same time jabbering nonsense about his -idea. - -“Come on!” I cried. - -“My hands!” he answered. - -Then, realising that I dared not run back to him, because my -ill-calculated steps might carry me over the edge, he came shuffling -towards me, with his hands held out before him. - -I gripped his chains at once to unfasten them. - -“Where are they?” he panted. - -“Run away. They’ll come back. They’re throwing things! Which way shall -we go?” - -“By the light. To that tunnel. Eh?” - -“Yes,” said I, and his hands were free. - -I dropped on my knees and fell to work on his ankle bonds. Whack came -something—I know not what—and splashed the livid streamlet into drops -about us. Far away on our right a piping and whistling began. - -I whipped the chain off his feet, and put it in his hand. “Hit with -that!” I said, and without waiting for an answer, set off in big bounds -along the path by which we had come. I had a nasty sort of feeling that -these things could jump out of the darkness on to my back. I heard the -impact of his leaps come following after me. - -We ran in vast strides. But that running, you must understand, was an -altogether different thing from any running on earth. On earth one -leaps and almost instantly hits the ground again, but on the moon, -because of its weaker pull, one shot through the air for several -seconds before one came to earth. In spite of our violent hurry this -gave an effect of long pauses, pauses in which one might have counted -seven or eight. “Step,” and one soared off! All sorts of questions ran -through my mind: “Where are the Selenites? What will they do? Shall we -ever get to that tunnel? Is Cavor far behind? Are they likely to cut -him off?” Then whack, stride, and off again for another step. - -I saw a Selenite running in front of me, his legs going exactly as a -man’s would go on earth, saw him glance over his shoulder, and heard -him shriek as he ran aside out of my way into the darkness. He was, I -think, our guide, but I am not sure. Then in another vast stride the -walls of rock had come into view on either hand, and in two more -strides I was in the tunnel, and tempering my pace to its low roof. I -went on to a bend, then stopped and turned back, and plug, plug, plug, -Cavor came into view, splashing into the stream of blue light at every -stride, and grew larger and blundered into me. We stood clutching each -other. For a moment, at least, we had shaken off our captors and were -alone. - -We were both very much out of breath. We spoke in panting, broken -sentences. - -“You’ve spoilt it all!” panted Cavor. “Nonsense,” I cried. “It was that -or death!” - -“What are we to do?” - -“Hide.” - -“How can we?” - -“It’s dark enough.” - -“But where?” - -“Up one of these side caverns.” - -“And then?” - -“Think.” - -“Right—come on.” - -We strode on, and presently came to a radiating dark cavern. Cavor was -in front. He hesitated, and chose a black mouth that seemed to promise -good hiding. He went towards it and turned. - -“It’s dark,” he said. - -“Your legs and feet will light us. You’re wet with that luminous -stuff.” - -“But—” - -A tumult of sounds, and in particular a sound like a clanging gong, -advancing up the main tunnel, became audible. It was horribly -suggestive of a tumultuous pursuit. We made a bolt for the unlit side -cavern forthwith. As we ran along it our way was lit by the irradiation -of Cavor’s legs. “It’s lucky,” I panted, “they took off our boots, or -we should fill this place with clatter.” On we rushed, taking as small -steps as we could to avoid striking the roof of the cavern. After a -time we seemed to be gaining on the uproar. It became muffled, it -dwindled, it died away. - -I stopped and looked back, and I heard the pad, pad of Cavor’s feet -receding. Then he stopped also. “Bedford,” he whispered; “there’s a -sort of light in front of us.” - -I looked, and at first could see nothing. Then I perceived his head and -shoulders dimly outlined against a fainter darkness. I saw, also, that -this mitigation of the darkness was not blue, as all the other light -within the moon had been, but a pallid grey, a very vague, faint white, -the daylight colour. Cavor noted this difference as soon, or sooner, -than I did, and I think, too, that it filled him with much the same -wild hope. - -“Bedford,” he whispered, and his voice trembled. “That light—it is -possible—” - -He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. Then came a pause. Suddenly -I knew by the sound of his feet that he was striding towards that -pallor. I followed him with a beating heart. - - - - -XVI. -Points of View - - -The light grew stronger as we advanced. In a little time it was nearly -as strong as the phosphorescence on Cavor’s legs. Our tunnel was -expanding into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of -it. I perceived something that set my hopes leaping and bounding. - -“Cavor,” I said, “it comes from above! I am certain it comes from -above!” - -He made no answer, but hurried on. - -Indisputably it was a grey light, a silvery light. - -In another moment we were beneath it. It filtered down through a chink -in the walls of the cavern, and as I stared up, drip, came a drop of -water upon my face. I started and stood aside—drip, fell another drop -quite audibly on the rocky floor. - -“Cavor,” I said, “if one of us lifts the other, he can reach that -crack!” - -“I’ll lift you,” he said, and incontinently hoisted me as though I was -a baby. - -I thrust an arm into the crack, and just at my finger tips found a -little ledge by which I could hold. I could see the white light was -very much brighter now. I pulled myself up by two fingers with scarcely -an effort, though on earth I weigh twelve stone, reached to a still -higher corner of rock, and so got my feet on the narrow ledge. I stood -up and searched up the rocks with my fingers; the cleft broadened out -upwardly. “It’s climbable,” I said to Cavor. “Can you jump up to my -hand if I hold it down to you?” - -I wedged myself between the sides of the cleft, rested knee and foot on -the ledge, and extended a hand. I could not see Cavor, but I could hear -the rustle of his movements as he crouched to spring. Then whack and he -was hanging to my arm—and no heavier than a kitten! I lugged him up -until he had a hand on my ledge, and could release me. - -“Confound it!” I said, “any one could be a mountaineer on the moon;” -and so set myself in earnest to the climbing. For a few minutes I -clambered steadily, and then I looked up again. The cleft opened out -steadily, and the light was brighter. Only— - -It was not daylight after all. - -In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could -have beaten my head against the rocks with disappointment. For I beheld -simply an irregularly sloping open space, and all over its slanting -floor stood a forest of little club-shaped fungi, each shining -gloriously with that pinkish silvery light. For a moment I stared at -their soft radiance, then sprang forward and upward among them. I -plucked up half a dozen and flung them against the rocks, and then sat -down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor’s ruddy face came into view. - -“It’s phosphorescence again!” I said. “No need to hurry. Sit down and -make yourself at home.” And as he spluttered over our disappointment, I -began to lob more of these growths into the cleft. - -“I thought it was daylight,” he said. - -“Daylight!” cried I. “Daybreak, sunset, clouds, and windy skies! Shall -we ever see such things again?” - -As I spoke, a little picture of our world seemed to rise before me, -bright and little and clear, like the background of some old Italian -picture. “The sky that changes, and the sea that changes, and the hills -and the green trees and the towns and cities shining in the sun. Think -of a wet roof at sunset, Cavor! Think of the windows of a westward -house!” He made no answer. - -“Here we are burrowing in this beastly world that isn’t a world, with -its inky ocean hidden in some abominable blackness below, and outside -that torrid day and that death stillness of night. And all these things -that are chasing us now, beastly men of leather—insect men, that come -out of a nightmare! After all, they’re right! What business have we -here smashing them and disturbing their world! For all we know the -whole planet is up and after us already. In a minute we may hear them -whimpering, and their gongs going. What are we to do? Where are we to -go? Here we are as comfortable as snakes from Jamrach’s loose in a -Surbiton villa!” - -“It was your fault,” said Cavor. - -“My fault!” I shouted. “Good Lord!” - -“I had an idea!” - -“Curse your ideas!” - -“If we had refused to budge—” - -“Under those goads?” - -“Yes. They would have carried us!” - -“Over that bridge?” - -“Yes. They must have carried us from outside.” - -“I’d rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling.” - -“Good Heavens!” - -I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something -that struck me even then. “Cavor,” I said, “these chains are of gold!” - -He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned -his head slowly and stared at me, and when I had repeated my words, at -the twisted chain about his right hand. “So they are,” he said, “so -they are.” His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He -hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I -sat for a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed -this, until I considered the blue light in which we had been, and which -had taken all the colour out of the metal. And from that discovery I -also started upon a train of thought that carried me wide and far. I -forgot that I had just been asking what business we had in the moon. -Gold.... - -It was Cavor who spoke first. “It seems to me that there are two -courses open to us.” - -“Well?” - -“Either we can attempt to make our way—fight our way if necessary—out -to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere until we find it, -or the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else—” - -He paused. “Yes?” I said, though I knew what was coming. - -“We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding -with the minds of the people in the moon.” - -“So far as I’m concerned—it’s the first.” - -“I doubt.” - -“I don’t.” - -“You see,” said Cavor, “I do not think we can judge the Selenites by -what we have seen of them. Their central world, their civilised world -will be far below in the profounder caverns about their sea. This -region of the crust in which we are is an outlying district, a pastoral -region. At any rate, that is my interpretation. These Selenites we have -seen may be only the equivalent of cowboys and engine-tenders. Their -use of goads—in all probability mooncalf goads—the lack of imagination -they show in expecting us to be able to do just what they can do, their -indisputable brutality, all seem to point to something of that sort. -But if we endured—” - -“Neither of us could endure a six-inch plank across the bottomless pit -for very long.” - -“No,” said Cavor; “but then—” - -“I _won’t_,” I said. - -He discovered a new line of possibilities. “Well, suppose we got -ourselves into some corner, where we could defend ourselves against -these hinds and labourers. If, for example, we could hold out for a -week or so, it is probable that the news of our appearance would filter -down to the more intelligent and populous parts—” - -“If they exist.” - -“They must exist, or whence came those tremendous machines?” - -“That’s possible, but it’s the worst of the two chances.” - -“We might write up inscriptions on walls—” - -“How do we know their eyes would see the sort of marks we made?” - -“If we cut them—” - -“That’s possible, of course.” - -I took up a new thread of thought. “After all,” I said, “I suppose you -don’t think these Selenites so infinitely wiser than men.” - -“They must know a lot more—or at least a lot of different things.” - -“Yes, but—” I hesitated. - -“I think you’ll quite admit, Cavor, that you’re rather an exceptional -man.” - -“How?” - -“Well, you—you’re a rather lonely man—have been, that is. You haven’t -married.” - -“Never wanted to. But why—” - -“And you never grew richer than you happened to be?” - -“Never wanted that either.” - -“You’ve just rooted after knowledge?” - -“Well, a certain curiosity is natural—” - -“You think so. That’s just it. You think every other mind wants to -_know_. I remember once, when I asked you why you conducted all these -researches, you said you wanted your F.R.S., and to have the stuff -called Cavorite, and things like that. You know perfectly well you -didn’t do it for that; but at the time my question took you by -surprise, and you felt you ought to have something to look like a -motive. Really you conducted researches because you _had_ to. It’s your -twist.” - -“Perhaps it is—” - -“It isn’t one man in a million has that twist. Most men want—well, -various things, but very few want knowledge for its own sake. _I_ -don’t, I know perfectly well. Now, these Selenites seem to be a -driving, busy sort of being, but how do you know that even the most -intelligent will take an interest in us or our world? I don’t believe -they’ll even know we have a world. They never come out at night—they’d -freeze if they did. They’ve probably never seen any heavenly body at -all except the blazing sun. How are they to know there is another -world? What does it matter to them if they do? Well, even if they -_have_ had a glimpse of a few stars, or even of the earth crescent, -what of that? Why should people living _inside_ a planet trouble to -observe that sort of thing? Men wouldn’t have done it except for the -seasons and sailing; why should the moon people?... - -“Well, suppose there are a few philosophers like yourself. They are -just the very Selenites who’ll never have heard of our existence. -Suppose a Selenite had dropped on the earth when you were at Lympne, -you’d have been the last man in the world to hear he had come. You -never read a newspaper! You see the chances against you. Well, it’s for -these chances we’re sitting here doing nothing while precious time is -flying. I tell you we’ve got into a fix. We’ve come unarmed, we’ve lost -our sphere, we’ve got no food, we’ve shown ourselves to the Selenites, -and made them think we’re strange, strong, dangerous animals; and -unless these Selenites are perfect fools, they’ll set about now and -hunt us till they find us, and when they find us they’ll try to take us -if they can, and kill us if they can’t, and that’s the end of the -matter. If they take us, they’ll probably kill us, through some -misunderstanding. After we’re done for, they may discuss us perhaps, -but we shan’t get much fun out of that.” - -“Go on.” - -“On the other hand, here’s gold knocking about like cast iron at home. -If only we can get some of it back, if only we can find our sphere -again before they do, and get back, then—” - -“Yes?” - -“We might put the thing on a sounder footing. Come back in a bigger -sphere with guns.” - -“Good Lord!” cried Cavor, as though that was horrible. - -I shied another luminous fungus down the cleft. - -“Look here, Cavor,” I said, “I’ve half the voting power anyhow in this -affair, and this is a case for a practical man. I’m a practical man, -and you are not. I’m not going to trust to Selenites and geometrical -diagrams if I can help it. That’s all. Get back. Drop all this -secrecy—or most of it. And come again.” - -He reflected. “When I came to the moon,” he said, “I ought to have come -alone.” - -“The question before the meeting,” I said, “is how to get back to the -sphere.” - -For a time we nursed our knees in silence. Then he seemed to decide for -my reasons. - -“I think,” he said, “one can get data. It is clear that while the sun -is on this side of the moon the air will be blowing through this planet -sponge from the dark side hither. On this side, at any rate, the air -will be expanding and flowing out of the moon caverns into the -craters.... Very well, there’s a draught here.” - -“So there is.” - -“And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this -cleft goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we -have to go. If we try to get up any sort of chimney or gully there is, -we shall not only get out of these passages where they are hunting for -us—” - -“But suppose the gully is too narrow?” - -“We’ll come down again.” - -“Ssh!” I said suddenly; “what’s that?” - -We listened. At first it was an indistinct murmur, and then one picked -out the clang of a gong. “They must think we are mooncalves,” said I, -“to be frightened at that.” - -“They’re coming along that passage,” said Cavor. - -“They must be.” - -“They’ll not think of the cleft. They’ll go past.” - -I listened again for a space. “This time,” I whispered, “they’re likely -to have some sort of weapon.” - -Then suddenly I sprang to my feet. “Good heavens, Cavor!” I cried. “But -they _will!_ They’ll see the fungi I have been pitching down. They’ll—” - -I didn’t finish my sentence. I turned about and made a leap over the -fungus tops towards the upper end of the cavity. I saw that the space -turned upward and became a draughty cleft again, ascending to -impenetrable darkness. I was about to clamber up into this, and then -with a happy inspiration turned back. - -“What are you doing?” asked Cavor. - -“Go on!” said I, and went back and got two of the shining fungi, and -putting one into the breast pocket of my flannel jacket, so that it -stuck out to light our climbing, went back with the other for Cavor. -The noise of the Selenites was now so loud that it seemed they must be -already beneath the cleft. But it might be they would have difficulty -in clambering in to it, or might hesitate to ascend it against our -possible resistance. At any rate, we had now the comforting knowledge -of the enormous muscular superiority our birth in another planet gave -us. In other minute I was clambering with gigantic vigour after Cavor’s -blue-lit heels. - - - - -XVII. -The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers - - -I do not know how far we clambered before we came to the grating. It -may be we ascended only a few hundred feet, but at the time it seemed -to me we might have hauled and jammed and hopped and wedged ourselves -through a mile or more of vertical ascent. Whenever I recall that time, -there comes into my head the heavy clank of our golden chains that -followed every movement. Very soon my knuckles and knees were raw, and -I had a bruise on one cheek. After a time the first violence of our -efforts diminished, and our movements became more deliberate and less -painful. The noise of the pursuing Selenites had died away altogether. -It seemed almost as though they had not traced us up the crack after -all, in spite of the tell-tale heap of broken fungi that must have lain -beneath it. At times the cleft narrowed so much that we could scarce -squeeze up it; at others it expanded into great drusy cavities, studded -with prickly crystals or thickly beset with dull, shining fungoid -pimples. Sometimes it twisted spirally, and at other times slanted down -nearly to the horizontal direction. Ever and again there was the -intermittent drip and trickle of water by us. Once or twice it seemed -to us that small living things had rustled out of our reach, but what -they were we never saw. They may have been venomous beasts for all I -know, but they did us no harm, and we were now tuned to a pitch when a -weird creeping thing more or less mattered little. And at last, far -above, came the familiar bluish light again, and then we saw that it -filtered through a grating that barred our way. - -We whispered as we pointed this out to one another, and became more and -more cautious in our ascent. Presently we were close under the grating, -and by pressing my face against its bars I could see a limited portion -of the cavern beyond. It was clearly a large space, and lit no doubt by -some rivulet of the same blue light that we had seen flow from the -beating machinery. An intermittent trickle of water dropped ever and -again between the bars near my face. - -My first endeavour was naturally to see what might be upon the floor of -the cavern, but our grating lay in a depression whose rim hid all this -from our eyes. Our foiled attention then fell back upon the suggestion -of the various sounds we heard, and presently my eye caught a number of -faint shadows that played across the dim roof far overhead. - -Indisputably there were several Selenites, perhaps a considerable -number, in this space, for we could hear the noises of their -intercourse, and faint sounds that I identified as their footfalls. -There was also a succession of regularly repeated sounds—chid, chid, -chid—which began and ceased, suggestive of a knife or spade hacking at -some soft substance. Then came a clank as if of chains, a whistle and a -rumble as of a truck running over a hollowed place, and then again that -chid, chid, chid resumed. The shadows told of shapes that moved quickly -and rhythmically, in agreement with that regular sound, and rested when -it ceased. - -We put our heads close together, and began to discuss these things in -noiseless whispers. - -“They are occupied,” I said, “they are occupied in some way.” - -“Yes.” - -“They’re not seeking us, or thinking of us.” - -“Perhaps they have not heard of us.” - -“Those others are hunting about below. If suddenly we appeared here—” - -We looked at one another. - -“There might be a chance to parley,” said Cavor. - -“No,” I said. “Not as we are.” - -For a space we remained, each occupied by his own thoughts. - -Chid, chid, chid went the chipping, and the shadows moved to and fro. - -I looked at the grating. “It’s flimsy,” I said. “We might bend two of -the bars and crawl through.” - -We wasted a little time in vague discussion. Then I took one of the -bars in both hands, and got my feet up against the rock until they were -almost on a level with my head, and so thrust against the bar. It bent -so suddenly that I almost slipped. I clambered about and bent the -adjacent bar in the opposite direction, and then took the luminous -fungus from my pocket and dropped it down the fissure. - -“Don’t do anything hastily,” whispered Cavor, as I twisted myself up -through the opening I had enlarged. I had a glimpse of busy figures as -I came through the grating, and immediately bent down, so that the rim -of the depression in which the grating lay hid me from their eyes, and -so lay flat, signalling advice to Cavor as he also prepared to come -through. Presently we were side by side in the depression, peering over -the edge at the cavern and its occupants. - -It was a much larger cavern than we had supposed from our first glimpse -of it, and we looked up from the lowest portion of its sloping floor. -It widened out as it receded from us, and its roof came down and hid -the remoter portion altogether. And lying in a line along its length, -vanishing at last far away in that tremendous perspective, were a -number of huge shapes, huge pallid hulls, upon which the Selenites were -busy. At first they seemed big white cylinders of vague import. Then I -noted the heads upon them lying towards us, eyeless and skinless like -the heads of sheep at a butcher’s, and perceived they were the -carcasses of mooncalves being cut up, much as the crew of a whaler -might cut up a moored whale. They were cutting off the flesh in strips, -and on some of the farther trunks the white ribs were showing. It was -the sound of their hatchets that made that chid, chid, chid. Some way -away a thing like a trolley cable, drawn and loaded with chunks of lax -meat, was running up the slope of the cavern floor. This enormous long -avenue of hulls that were destined to be food gave us a sense of the -vast populousness of the moon world second only to the effect of our -first glimpse down the shaft. - -It seemed to me at first that the Selenites must be standing on -trestle-supported planks,[2] and then I saw that the planks and -supports and the hatchets were really of the same leaden hue as my -fetters had seemed before white light came to bear on them. A number of -very thick-looking crowbars lay about the floor, and had apparently -assisted to turn the dead mooncalf over on its side. They were perhaps -six feet long, with shaped handles, very tempting-looking weapons. The -whole place was lit by three transverse streams of the blue fluid. - - [2] I do not remember seeing any wooden things on the moon; doors, - tables, everything corresponding to our terrestrial joinery was made - of metal, and I believe for the most part of gold, which as a metal - would, of course, naturally recommend itself—other things being - equal—on account of the ease in working it, and its toughness and - durability. - - -We lay for a long time noting all these things in silence. “Well?” said -Cavor at last. - -I crouched over and turned to him. I had come upon a brilliant idea. -“Unless they lowered those bodies by a crane,” I said, “we must be -nearer the surface than I thought.” - -“Why?” - -“The mooncalf doesn’t hop, and it hasn’t got wings.” - -He peered over the edge of the hollow again. “I wonder now—” he began. -“After all, we have never gone far from the surface—” - -I stopped him by a grip on his arm. I had heard a noise from the cleft -below us! - -We twisted ourselves about, and lay as still as death, with every sense -alert. In a little while I did not doubt that something was quietly -ascending the cleft. Very slowly and quite noiselessly I assured myself -of a good grip on my chain, and waited for that something to appear. - -“Just look at those chaps with the hatchets again,” I said. - -“They’re all right,” said Cavor. - -I took a sort of provisional aim at the gap in the grating. I could -hear now quite distinctly the soft twittering of the ascending -Selenites, the dab of their hands against the rock, and the falling of -dust from their grips as they clambered. - -Then I could see that there was something moving dimly in the blackness -below the grating, but what it might be I could not distinguish. The -whole thing seemed to hang fire just for a moment—then smash! I had -sprung to my feet, struck savagely at something that had flashed out at -me. It was the keen point of a spear. I have thought since that its -length in the narrowness of the cleft must have prevented its being -sloped to reach me. Anyhow, it shot out from the grating like the -tongue of a snake, and missed and flew back and flashed again. But the -second time I snatched and caught it, and wrenched it away, but not -before another had darted ineffectually at me. - -I shouted with triumph as I felt the hold of the Selenite resist my -pull for a moment and give, and then I was jabbing down through the -bars, amidst squeals from the darkness, and Cavor had snapped off the -other spear, and was leaping and flourishing it beside me, and making -inefficient jabs. Clang, clang, came up through the grating, and then -an axe hurtled through the air and whacked against the rocks beyond, to -remind me of the fleshers at the carcasses up the cavern. - -I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving -their axes. They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, -strikingly different from the ones we had seen before. If they had not -heard of us before, they must have realised the situation with -incredible swiftness. I stared at them for a moment, spear in hand. -“Guard that grating, Cavor,” I cried, howled to intimidate them, and -rushed to meet them. Two of them missed with their hatchets, and the -rest fled incontinently. Then the two also were sprinting away up the -cavern, with hands clenched and heads down. I never saw men run like -them! - -I knew the spear I had was no good for me. It was thin and flimsy, only -effectual for a thrust, and too long for a quick recover. So I only -chased the Selenites as far as the first carcass, and stopped there and -picked up one of the crowbars that were lying about. It felt -comfortingly heavy, and equal to smashing any number of Selenites. I -threw away my spear, and picked up a second crowbar for the other hand. -I felt five times better than I had with the spear. I shook the two -threateningly at the Selenites, who had come to a halt in a little -crowd far away up the cavern, and then turned about to look at Cavor. - -He was leaping from side to side of the grating, making threatening -jabs with his broken spear. That was all right. It would keep the -Selenites down—for a time at any rate. I looked up the cavern again. -What on earth were we going to do now? - -We were cornered in a sort of way already. But these butchers up the -cavern had been surprised, they were probably scared, and they had no -special weapons, only those little hatchets of theirs. And that way lay -escape. Their sturdy little forms—ever so much shorter and thicker than -the mooncalf herds—were scattered up the slope in a way that was -eloquent of indecision. I had the moral advantage of a mad bull in a -street. But for all that, there seemed a tremendous crowd of them. Very -probably there was. Those Selenites down the cleft had certainly some -infernally long spears. It might be they had other surprises for us.... -But, confound it! if we charged up the cave we should let them up -behind us, and if we didn’t those little brutes up the cave would -probably get reinforced. Heaven alone knew what tremendous engines of -warfare—guns, bombs, terrestrial torpedoes—this unknown world below our -feet, this vaster world of which we had only pricked the outer cuticle, -might not presently send up to our destruction. It became clear the -only thing to do was to charge! It became clearer as the legs of a -number of fresh Selenites appeared running down the cavern towards us. - -“Bedford!” cried Cavor, and behold! he was halfway between me and the -grating. - -“Go back!” I cried. “What are you doing—” - -“They’ve got—it’s like a gun!” - -And struggling in the grating between those defensive spears appeared -the head and shoulders of a singularly lean and angular Selenite, -bearing some complicated apparatus. - -I realised Cavor’s utter incapacity for the fight we had in hand. For a -moment I hesitated. Then I rushed past him whirling my crowbars, and -shouting to confound the aim of the Selenite. He was aiming in the -queerest way with the thing against his stomach. “_Chuzz!_” The thing -wasn’t a gun; it went off like a cross-bow more, and dropped me in the -middle of a leap. - -I didn’t fall down, I simply came down a little shorter than I should -have done if I hadn’t been hit, and from the feel of my shoulder the -thing might have tapped me and glanced off. Then my left hand hit -against the shaft, and I perceived there was a sort of spear sticking -half through my shoulder. The moment after I got home with the crowbar -in my right hand, and hit the Selenite fair and square. He collapsed—he -crushed and crumpled—his head smashed like an egg. - -I dropped a crowbar, pulled the spear out of my shoulder, and began to -jab it down the grating into the darkness. At each jab came a shriek -and twitter. Finally I hurled the spear down upon them with all my -strength, leapt up, picked up the crowbar again, and started for the -multitude up the cavern. - -“Bedford!” cried Cavor. “Bedford!” as I flew past him. - -I seem to remember his footsteps coming on behind me. - -Step, leap ... whack, step, leap.... Each leap seemed to last ages. -With each, the cave opened out and the number of Selenites visible -increased. At first they seemed all running about like ants in a -disturbed ant-hill, one or two waving hatchets and coming to meet me, -more running away, some bolting sideways into the avenue of carcasses, -then presently others came in sight carrying spears, and then others. I -saw a most extraordinary thing, all hands and feet, bolting for cover. -The cavern grew darker farther up. - -Flick! something flew over my head. Flick! As I soared in mid-stride I -saw a spear hit and quiver in one of the carcasses to my left. Then, as -I came down, one hit the ground before me, and I heard the remote -chuzz! with which their things were fired. Flick, flick! for a moment -it was a shower. They were volleying! - -I stopped dead. - -I don’t think I thought clearly then. I seem to remember a kind of -stereotyped phrase running through my mind: “Zone of fire, seek cover!” -I know I made a dash for the space between two of the carcasses, and -stood there panting and feeling very wicked. - -I looked round for Cavor, and for a moment it seemed as if he had -vanished from the world. Then he came out of the darkness between the -row of the carcasses and the rocky wall of the cavern. I saw his little -face, dark and blue, and shining with perspiration and emotion. - -He was saying something, but what it was I did not heed. I had realised -that we might work from mooncalf to mooncalf up the cave until we were -near enough to charge home. It was charge or nothing. “Come on!” I -said, and led the way. - -“Bedford!” he cried unavailingly. - -My mind was busy as we went up that narrow alley between the dead -bodies and the wall of the cavern. The rocks curved about—they could -not enfilade us. Though in that narrow space we could not leap, yet -with our earth-born strength we were still able to go very much faster -than the Selenites. I reckoned we should presently come right among -them. Once we were on them, they would be nearly as formidable as black -beetles. Only there would first of all be a volley. I thought of a -stratagem. I whipped off my flannel jacket as I ran. - -“Bedford!” panted Cavor behind me. - -I glanced back. “What?” said I. - -He was pointing upward over the carcasses. “White light!” he said. -“White light again!” - -I looked, and it was even so; a faint white ghost of light in the -remoter cavern roof. That seemed to give me double strength. - -“Keep close,” I said. A flat, long Selenite dashed out of the darkness, -and squealed and fled. I halted, and stopped Cavor with my hand. I hung -my jacket over my crowbar, ducked round the next carcass, dropped -jacket and crowbar, showed myself, and darted back. - -“Chuzz-flick,” just one arrow came. We were close on the Selenites, and -they were standing in a crowd, broad, short, and tall together, with a -little battery of their shooting implements pointing down the cave. -Three or four other arrows followed the first, then their fire ceased. - -I stuck out my head, and escaped by a hair’s-breadth. This time I drew -a dozen shots or more, and heard the Selenites shouting and twittering -as if with excitement as they shot. I picked up jacket and crowbar -again. - -“_Now!_” said I, and thrust out the jacket. - -“Chuzz-zz-zz-zz! Chuzz!” In an instant my jacket had grown a thick -beard of arrows, and they were quivering all over the carcass behind -us. Instantly I slipped the crowbar out of the jacket, dropped the -jacket—for all I know to the contrary it is lying up there in the moon -now—and rushed out upon them. - -For a minute perhaps it was massacre. I was too fierce to discriminate, -and the Selenites were probably too scared to fight. At any rate they -made no sort of fight against me. I saw scarlet, as the saying is. I -remember I seemed to be wading among those leathery, thin things as a -man wades through tall grass, mowing and hitting, first right, then -left; smash. Little drops of moisture flew about. I trod on things that -crushed and piped and went slippery. The crowd seemed to open and close -and flow like water. They seemed to have no combined plan whatever. -There were spears flew about me, I was grazed over the ear by one. I -was stabbed once in the arm and once in the cheek, but I only found -that out afterwards, when the blood had had time to run and cool and -feel wet. - -What Cavor did I do not know. For a space it seemed that this fighting -had lasted for an age, and must needs go on for ever. Then suddenly it -was all over, and there was nothing to be seen but the backs of heads -bobbing up and down as their owners ran in all directions.... I seemed -altogether unhurt. I ran forward some paces, shouting, then turned -about. I was amazed. - -I had come right through them in vast flying strides, they were all -behind me, and running hither and thither to hide. - -I felt an enormous astonishment at the evaporation of the great fight -into which I had hurled myself, and not a little exultation. It did not -seem to me that I had discovered the Selenites were unexpectedly -flimsy, but that I was unexpectedly strong. I laughed stupidly. This -fantastic moon! - -I glanced for a moment at the smashed and writhing bodies that were -scattered over the cavern floor, with a vague idea of further violence, -then hurried on after Cavor. - - - - -XVIII. -In the Sunlight - - -Presently we saw that the cavern before us opened upon a hazy void. In -another moment we had emerged upon a sort of slanting gallery, that -projected into a vast circular space, a huge cylindrical pit running -vertically up and down. Round this pit the slanting gallery ran without -any parapet or protection for a turn and a half, and then plunged high -above into the rock again. Somehow it reminded me then of one of those -spiral turns of the railway through the Saint Gothard. It was all -tremendously huge. I can scarcely hope to convey to you the Titanic -proportion of all that place, the Titanic effect of it. Our eyes -followed up the vast declivity of the pit wall, and overhead and far -above we beheld a round opening set with faint stars, and half of the -lip about it well nigh blinding with the white light of the sun. At -that we cried aloud simultaneously. - -“Come on!” I said, leading the way. - -“But there?” said Cavor, and very carefully stepped nearer the edge of -the gallery. I followed his example, and craned forward and looked -down, but I was dazzled by that gleam of light above, and I could see -only a bottomless darkness with spectral patches of crimson and purple -floating therein. Yet if I could not see, I could hear. Out of this -darkness came a sound, a sound like the angry hum one can hear if one -puts one’s ear outside a hive of bees, a sound out of that enormous -hollow, it may be, four miles beneath our feet... - -For a moment I listened, then tightened my grip on my crowbar, and led -the way up the gallery. - -“This must be the shaft we looked down upon,” said Cavor. “Under that -lid.” - -“And below there, is where we saw the lights.” - -“The lights!” said he. “Yes—the lights of the world that now we shall -never see.” - -“We’ll come back,” I said, for now we had escaped so much I was rashly -sanguine that we should recover the sphere. - -His answer I did not catch. - -“Eh?” I asked. - -“It doesn’t matter,” he answered, and we hurried on in silence. - -I suppose that slanting lateral way was four or five miles long, -allowing for its curvature, and it ascended at a slope that would have -made it almost impossibly steep on earth, but which one strode up -easily under lunar conditions. We saw only two Selenites during all -that portion of our flight, and directly they became aware of us they -ran headlong. It was clear that the knowledge of our strength and -violence had reached them. Our way to the exterior was unexpectedly -plain. The spiral gallery straightened into a steeply ascendent tunnel, -its floor bearing abundant traces of the mooncalves, and so straight -and short in proportion to its vast arch, that no part of it was -absolutely dark. Almost immediately it began to lighten, and then far -off and high up, and quite blindingly brilliant, appeared its opening -on the exterior, a slope of Alpine steepness surmounted by a crest of -bayonet shrub, tall and broken down now, and dry and dead, in spiky -silhouette against the sun. - -And it is strange that we men, to whom this very vegetation had seemed -so weird and horrible a little time ago, should now behold it with the -emotion a home-coming exile might feel at sight of his native land. We -welcomed even the rareness of the air that made us pant as we ran, and -which rendered speaking no longer the easy thing that it had been, but -an effort to make oneself heard. Larger grew the sunlit circle above -us, and larger, and all the nearer tunnel sank into a rim of -indistinguishable black. We saw the dead bayonet shrub no longer with -any touch of green in it, but brown and dry and thick, and the shadow -of its upper branches high out of sight made a densely interlaced -pattern upon the tumbled rocks. And at the immediate mouth of the -tunnel was a wide trampled space where the mooncalves had come and -gone. - -We came out upon this space at last into a light and heat that hit and -pressed upon us. We traversed the exposed area painfully, and clambered -up a slope among the scrub stems, and sat down at last panting in a -high place beneath the shadow of a mass of twisted lava. Even in the -shade the rock felt hot. - -The air was intensely hot, and we were in great physical discomfort, -but for all that we were no longer in a nightmare. We seemed to have -come to our own province again, beneath the stars. All the fear and -stress of our flight through the dim passages and fissures below had -fallen from us. That last fight had filled us with an enormous -confidence in ourselves so far as the Selenites were concerned. We -looked back almost incredulously at the black opening from which we had -just emerged. Down there it was, in a blue glow that now in our -memories seemed the next thing to absolute darkness, we had met with -things like mad mockeries of men, helmet-headed creatures, and had -walked in fear before them, and had submitted to them until we could -submit no longer. And behold, they had smashed like wax and scattered -like chaff, and fled and vanished like the creatures of a dream! - -I rubbed my eyes, doubting whether we had not slept and dreamt these -things by reason of the fungus we had eaten, and suddenly discovered -the blood upon my face, and then that my shirt was sticking painfully -to my shoulder and arm. - -“Confound it!” I said, gauging my injuries with an investigatory hand, -and suddenly that distant tunnel mouth became, as it were, a watching -eye. - -“Cavor!” I said; “what are they going to do now? And what are we going -to do?” - -He shook his head, with his eyes fixed upon the tunnel. “How can one -tell what they will do?” - -“It depends on what they think of us, and I don’t see how we can begin -to guess that. And it depends upon what they have in reserve. It’s as -you say, Cavor, we have touched the merest outside of this world. They -may have all sorts of things inside here. Even with those shooting -things they might make it bad for us.... - -“Yet after all,” I said, “even if we _don’t_ find the sphere at once, -there is a chance for us. We might hold out. Even through the night. We -might go down there again and make a fight for it.” - -I stared about me with speculative eyes. The character of the scenery -had altered altogether by reason of the enormous growth and subsequent -drying of the scrub. The crest on which we sat was high, and commanded -a wide prospect of the crater landscape, and we saw it now all sere and -dry in the late autumn of the lunar afternoon. Rising one behind the -other were long slopes and fields of trampled brown where the -mooncalves had pastured, and far away in the full blaze of the sun a -drove of them basked slumberously, scattered shapes, each with a blot -of shadow against it like sheep on the side of a down. But never a sign -of a Selenite was to be seen. Whether they had fled on our emergence -from the interior passages, or whether they were accustomed to retire -after driving out the mooncalves, I cannot guess. At the time I -believed the former was the case. - -“If we were to set fire to all this stuff,” I said, “we might find the -sphere among the ashes.” - -Cavor did not seem to hear me. He was peering under his hand at the -stars, that still, in spite of the intense sunlight, were abundantly -visible in the sky. “How long do you think we’ve have been here?” he -asked at last. - -“Been where?” - -“On the moon.” - -“Two earthly days, perhaps.” - -“More nearly ten. Do you know, the sun is past its zenith, and sinking -in the west. In four days’ time or less it will be night.” - -“But—we’ve only eaten once!” - -“I know that. And— But there are the stars!” - -“But why should time seem different because we are on a smaller -planet?” - -“I don’t know. There it is!” - -“How does one tell time?” - -“Hunger—fatigue—all those things are different. Everything is -different—everything. To me it seems that since first we came out of -the sphere has been only a question of hours—long hours—at most.” - -“Ten days,” I said; “that leaves—” I looked up at the sun for a moment, -and then saw that it was halfway from the zenith to the western edge of -things. “Four days! ... Cavor, we mustn’t sit here and dream. How do -you think we may begin?” - -I stood up. “We must get a fixed point we can recognise—we might hoist -a flag, or a handkerchief, or something—and quarter the ground, and -work round that.” - -He stood up beside me. - -“Yes,” he said, “there is nothing for it but to hunt the sphere. -Nothing. We may find it—certainly we may find it. And if not—” - -“We must keep on looking.” - -He looked this way and that, glanced up at the sky and down at the -tunnel, and astonished me by a sudden gesture of impatience. “Oh! but -we have done foolishly! To have come to this pass! Think how it might -have been, and the things we might have done!” - -“We might do something yet.” - -“Never the thing we might have done. Here below our feet is a world. -Think of what that world must be! Think of that machine we saw, and the -lid and the shaft! They were just remote outlying things, and those -creatures we have seen and fought with no more than ignorant peasants, -dwellers in the outskirts, yokels and labourers half akin to brutes. -Down below! Caverns beneath caverns, tunnels, structures, ways... It -must open out, and be greater and wider and more populous as one -descends. Assuredly. Right down at the last the central sea that washes -round the core of the moon. Think of its inky waters under the spare -lights—if, indeed, their eyes _need_ lights! Think of the cascading -tributaries pouring down their channels to feed it! Think of the tides -upon its surface, and the rush and swirl of its ebb and flow! Perhaps -they have ships that go upon it, perhaps down there are mighty cities -and swarming ways, and wisdom and order passing the wit of man. And we -may die here upon it, and never see the masters who _must_ be—ruling -over these things! We may freeze and die here, and the air will freeze -and thaw upon us, and then—! Then they will come upon us, come on our -stiff and silent bodies, and find the sphere we cannot find, and they -will understand at last too late all the thought and effort that ended -here in vain!” - -His voice for all that speech sounded like the voice of someone heard -in a telephone, weak and far away. - -“But the darkness,” I said. - -“One might get over that.” - -“How?” - -“I don’t know. How am I to know? One might carry a torch, one might -have a lamp— The others—might understand.” - -He stood for a moment with his hands held down and a rueful face, -staring out over the waste that defied him. Then with a gesture of -renunciation he turned towards me with proposals for the systematic -hunting of the sphere. - -“We can return,” I said. - -He looked about him. “First of all we shall have to get to earth.” - -“We could bring back lamps to carry and climbing irons, and a hundred -necessary things.” - -“Yes,” he said. - -“We can take back an earnest of success in this gold.” - -He looked at my golden crowbars, and said nothing for a space. He stood -with his hands clasped behind his back, staring across the crater. At -last he signed and spoke. “It was _I_ found the way here, but to find a -way isn’t always to be master of a way. If I take my secret back to -earth, what will happen? I do not see how I can keep my secret for a -year, for even a part of a year. Sooner or later it must come out, even -if other men rediscover it. And then ... Governments and powers will -struggle to get hither, they will fight against one another, and -against these moon people; it will only spread warfare and multiply the -occasions of war. In a little while, in a very little while, if I tell -my secret, this planet to its deepest galleries will be strewn with -human dead. Other things are doubtful, but that is certain. It is not -as though man had any use for the moon. What good would the moon be to -men? Even of their own planet what have they made but a battle-ground -and theatre of infinite folly? Small as his world is, and short as his -time, he has still in his little life down there far more than he can -do. No! Science has toiled too long forging weapons for fools to use. -It is time she held her hand. Let him find it out for himself again—in -a thousand years’ time.” - -“There are methods of secrecy,” I said. - -He looked up at me and smiled. “After all,” he said, “why should one -worry? There is little chance of our finding the sphere, and down below -things are brewing. It’s simply the human habit of hoping till we die -that makes us think of return. Our troubles are only beginning. We have -shown these moon folk violence, we have given them a taste of our -quality, and our chances are about as good as a tiger’s that has got -loose and killed a man in Hyde Park. The news of us must be running -down from gallery to gallery, down towards the central parts.... No -sane beings will ever let us take that sphere back to earth after so -much as they have seen of us.” - -“We aren’t improving our chances,” said I, “by sitting here.” - -We stood up side by side. - -“After all,” he said, “we must separate. We must stick up a -handkerchief on these tall spikes here and fasten it firmly, and from -this as a centre we must work over the crater. You must go westward, -moving out in semicircles to and fro towards the setting sun. You must -move first with your shadow on your right until it is at right angles -with the direction of your handkerchief, and then with your shadow on -your left. And I will do the same to the east. We will look into every -gully, examine every skerry of rocks; we will do all we can to find my -sphere. If we see the Selenites we will hide from them as well as we -can. For drink we must take snow, and if we feel the need of food, we -must kill a mooncalf if we can, and eat such flesh as it has—raw—and so -each will go his own way.” - -“And if one of us comes upon the sphere?” - -“He must come back to the white handkerchief, and stand by it and -signal to the other.” - -“And if neither?” - -Cavor glanced up at the sun. “We go on seeking until the night and cold -overtake us.” - -“Suppose the Selenites have found the sphere and hidden it?” - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -“Or if presently they come hunting us?” - -He made no answer. - -“You had better take a club,” I said. - -He shook his head, and stared away from me across the waste. - -But for a moment he did not start. He looked round at me shyly, -hesitated. “_Au revoir_,” he said. - -I felt an odd stab of emotion. A sense of how we had galled each other, -and particularly how I must have galled him, came to me. “Confound it,” -thought I, “we might have done better!” I was on the point of asking -him to shake hands—for that, somehow, was how I felt just then—when he -put his feet together and leapt away from me towards the north. He -seemed to drift through the air as a dead leaf would do, fell lightly, -and leapt again. I stood for a moment watching him, then faced westward -reluctantly, pulled myself together, and with something of the feeling -of a man who leaps into icy water, selected a leaping point, and -plunged forward to explore my solitary half of the moon world. I -dropped rather clumsily among rocks, stood up and looked about me, -clambered on to a rocky slab, and leapt again.... - -When presently I looked for Cavor he was hidden from my eyes, but the -handkerchief showed out bravely on its headland, white in the blaze of -the sun. - -I determined not to lose sight of that handkerchief whatever might -betide. - - - - -XIX. -Mr. Bedford Alone - - -In a little while it seemed to me as though I had always been alone on -the moon. I hunted for a time with a certain intentness, but the heat -was still very great, and the thinness of the air felt like a hoop -about one’s chest. I came presently into a hollow basin bristling with -tall, brown, dry fronds about its edge, and I sat down under these to -rest and cool. I intended to rest for only a little while. I put down -my clubs beside me, and sat resting my chin on my hands. I saw with a -sort of colourless interest that the rocks of the basin, where here and -there the crackling dry lichens had shrunk away to show them, were all -veined and splattered with gold, that here and there bosses of rounded -and wrinkled gold projected from among the litter. What did that matter -now? A sort of languor had possession of my limbs and mind, I did not -believe for a moment that we should ever find the sphere in that vast -desiccated wilderness. I seemed to lack a motive for effort until the -Selenites should come. Then I supposed I should exert myself, obeying -that unreasonable imperative that urges a man before all things to -preserve and defend his life, albeit he may preserve it only to die -more painfully in a little while. - -Why had we come to the moon? - -The thing presented itself to me as a perplexing problem. What is this -spirit in man that urges him for ever to depart from happiness and -security, to toil, to place himself in danger, to risk even a -reasonable certainty of death? It dawned upon me up there in the moon -as a thing I ought always to have known, that man is not made simply to -go about being safe and comfortable and well fed and amused. Almost any -man, if you put the thing to him, not in words, but in the shape of -opportunities, will show that he knows as much. Against his interest, -against his happiness, he is constantly being driven to do unreasonable -things. Some force not himself impels him, and go he must. But why? -Why? Sitting there in the midst of that useless moon gold, amidst the -things of another world, I took count of all my life. Assuming I was to -die a castaway upon the moon, I failed altogether to see what purpose I -had served. I got no light on that point, but at any rate it was -clearer to me than it had ever been in my life before that I was not -serving my own purpose, that all my life I had in truth never served -the purposes of my private life. Whose purposes, what purposes, was I -serving? ... I ceased to speculate on why we had come to the moon, and -took a wider sweep. Why had I come to the earth? Why had I a private -life at all? ... I lost myself at last in bottomless speculations.... - -My thoughts became vague and cloudy, no longer leading in definite -directions. I had not felt heavy or weary—I cannot imagine one doing so -upon the moon—but I suppose I was greatly fatigued. At any rate I -slept. - -Slumbering there rested me greatly, I think, and the sun was setting -and the violence of the heat abating, through all the time I slumbered. -When at last I was roused from my slumbers by a remote clamour, I felt -active and capable again. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. I -rose to my feet—I was a little stiff—and at once prepared to resume my -search. I shouldered my golden clubs, one on each shoulder, and went on -out of the ravine of the gold-veined rocks. - -The sun was certainly lower, much lower than it had been; the air was -very much cooler. I perceived I must have slept some time. It seemed to -me that a faint touch of misty blueness hung about the western cliff. I -leapt to a little boss of rock and surveyed the crater. I could see no -signs of mooncalves or Selenites, nor could I see Cavor, but I could -see my handkerchief far off, spread out on its thicket of thorns. I -looked about me, and then leapt forward to the next convenient -view-point. - -I beat my way round in a semicircle, and back again in a still remoter -crescent. It was very fatiguing and hopeless. The air was really very -much cooler, and it seemed to me that the shadow under the westward -cliff was growing broad. Ever and again I stopped and reconnoitred, but -there was no sign of Cavor, no sign of Selenites; and it seemed to me -the mooncalves must have been driven into the interior again—I could -see none of them. I became more and more desirous of seeing Cavor. The -winged outline of the sun had sunk now, until it was scarcely the -distance of its diameter from the rim of the sky. I was oppressed by -the idea that the Selenites would presently close their lids and -valves, and shut us out under the inexorable onrush of the lunar night. -It seemed to me high time that he abandoned his search, and that we -took counsel together. I felt how urgent it was that we should decide -soon upon our course. We had failed to find the sphere, we no longer -had time to seek it, and once these valves were closed with us outside, -we were lost men. The great night of space would descend upon us—that -blackness of the void which is the only absolute death. All my being -shrank from that approach. We must get into the moon again, though we -were slain in doing it. I was haunted by a vision of our freezing to -death, of our hammering with our last strength on the valve of the -great pit. - -I took no thought any more of the sphere. I thought only of finding -Cavor again. I was half inclined to go back into the moon without him, -rather than seek him until it was too late. I was already half-way back -towards our handkerchief, when suddenly— - -I saw the sphere! - -I did not find it so much as it found me. It was lying much farther to -the westward than I had gone, and the sloping rays of the sinking sun -reflected from its glass had suddenly proclaimed its presence in a -dazzling beam. For an instant I thought this was some new device of the -Selenites against us, and then I understood. - -I threw up my arms, shouted a ghostly shout, and set off in vast leaps -towards it. I missed one of my leaps and dropped into a deep ravine and -twisted my ankle, and after that I stumbled at almost every leap. I was -in a state of hysterical agitation, trembling violently, and quite -breathless long before I got to it. Three times at least I had to stop -with my hands resting on my side and in spite of the thin dryness of -the air, the perspiration was wet upon my face. - -I thought of nothing but the sphere until I reached it, I forgot even -my trouble of Cavor’s whereabouts. My last leap flung me with my hands -hard against its glass; then I lay against it panting, and trying -vainly to shout, “Cavor! here is the sphere!” When I had recovered a -little I peered through the thick glass, and the things inside seemed -tumbled. I stooped to peer closer. Then I attempted to get in. I had to -hoist it over a little to get my head through the manhole. The screw -stopper was inside, and I could see now that nothing had been touched, -nothing had suffered. It lay there as we had left it when we had -dropped out amidst the snow. For a time I was wholly occupied in making -and remaking this inventory. I found I was trembling violently. It was -good to see that familiar dark interior again! I cannot tell you how -good. Presently I crept inside and sat down among the things. I looked -through the glass at the moon world and shivered. I placed my gold -clubs upon the table, and sought out and took a little food; not so -much because I wanted it, but because it was there. Then it occurred to -me that it was time to go out and signal for Cavor. But I did not go -out and signal for Cavor forthwith. Something held me to the sphere. - -After all, everything was coming right. There would be still time for -us to get more of the magic stone that gives one mastery over men. Away -there, close handy, was gold for the picking up; and the sphere would -travel as well half full of gold as though it were empty. We could go -back now, masters of ourselves and our world, and then— - -I roused myself at last, and with an effort got myself out of the -sphere. I shivered as I emerged, for the evening air was growing very -cold. I stood in the hollow staring about me. I scrutinised the bushes -round me very carefully before I leapt to the rocky shelf hard by, and -took once more what had been my first leap in the moon. But now I made -it with no effort whatever. - -The growth and decay of the vegetation had gone on apace, and the whole -aspect of the rocks had changed, but still it was possible to make out -the slope on which the seeds had germinated, and the rocky mass from -which we had taken our first view of the crater. But the spiky shrub on -the slope stood brown and sere now, and thirty feet high, and cast long -shadows that stretched out of sight, and the little seeds that -clustered in its upper branches were brown and ripe. Its work was done, -and it was brittle and ready to fall and crumple under the freezing -air, so soon as the nightfall came. And the huge cacti, that had -swollen as we watched them, had long since burst and scattered their -spores to the four quarters of the moon. Amazing little corner in the -universe—the landing place of men! - -Some day, thought I, I will have an inscription standing there right in -the midst of the hollow. It came to me, if only this teeming world -within knew of the full import of the moment, how furious its tumult -would become! - -But as yet it could scarcely be dreaming of the significance of our -coming. For if it did, the crater would surely be an uproar of pursuit, -instead of as still as death! I looked about for some place from which -I might signal Cavor, and saw that same patch of rock to which he had -leapt from my present standpoint, still bare and barren in the sun. For -a moment I hesitated at going so far from the sphere. Then with a pang -of shame at that hesitation, I leapt.... - -From this vantage point I surveyed the crater again. Far away at the -top of the enormous shadow I cast was the little white handkerchief -fluttering on the bushes. It was very little and very far, and Cavor -was not in sight. It seemed to me that by this time he ought to be -looking for me. That was the agreement. But he was nowhere to be seen. - -I stood waiting and watching, hands shading my eyes, expecting every -moment to distinguish him. Very probably I stood there for quite a long -time. I tried to shout, and was reminded of the thinness of the air. I -made an undecided step back towards the sphere. But a lurking dread of -the Selenites made me hesitate to signal my whereabouts by hoisting one -of our sleeping-blankets on to the adjacent scrub. I searched the -crater again. - -It had an effect of emptiness that chilled me. And it was still. Any -sound from the Selenites in the world beneath had died away. It was as -still as death. Save for the faint stir of the shrub about me in the -little breeze that was rising, there was no sound nor shadow of a -sound. And the breeze blew chill. - -Confound Cavor! - -I took a deep breath. I put my hands to the sides of my mouth. “Cavor!” -I bawled, and the sound was like some manikin shouting far away. - -I looked at the handkerchief, I looked behind me at the broadening -shadow of the westward cliff, I looked under my hand at the sun. It -seemed to me that almost visibly it was creeping down the sky. - -I felt I must act instantly if I was to save Cavor. I whipped off my -vest and flung it as a mark on the sere bayonets of the shrubs behind -me, and then set off in a straight line towards the handkerchief. -Perhaps it was a couple of miles away—a matter of a few hundred leaps -and strides. I have already told how one seemed to hang through those -lunar leaps. In each suspense I sought Cavor, and marvelled why he -should be hidden. In each leap I could feel the sun setting behind me. -Each time I touched the ground I was tempted to go back. - -A last leap and I was in the depression below our handkerchief, a -stride, and I stood on our former vantage point within arms’ reach of -it. I stood up straight and scanned the world about me, between its -lengthening bars of shadow. Far away, down a long declivity, was the -opening of the tunnel up which we had fled, and my shadow reached -towards it, stretched towards it, and touched it, like a finger of the -night. - -Not a sign of Cavor, not a sound in all the stillness, only the stir -and waving of the scrub and of the shadows increased. And suddenly and -violently I shivered. “Cav—” I began, and realised once more the -uselessness of the human voice in that thin air. Silence. The silence -of death. - -Then it was my eye caught something—a little thing lying, perhaps fifty -yards away down the slope, amidst a litter of bent and broken branches. -What was it? I knew, and yet for some reason I would not know. I went -nearer to it. It was the little cricket-cap Cavor had worn. I did not -touch it, I stood looking at it. - -I saw then that the scattered branches about it had been forcibly -smashed and trampled. I hesitated, stepped forward, and picked it up. - -I stood with Cavor’s cap in my hand, staring at the trampled reeds and -thorns about me. On some of them were little smears of something dark, -something that I dared not touch. A dozen yards away, perhaps, the -rising breeze dragged something into view, something small and vividly -white. - -It was a little piece of paper crumpled tightly, as though it had been -clutched tightly. I picked it up, and on it were smears of red. My eye -caught faint pencil marks. I smoothed it out, and saw uneven and broken -writing ending at last in a crooked streak upon the paper. - -I set myself to decipher this. - -“I have been injured about the knee, I think my kneecap is hurt, and I -cannot run or crawl,” it began—pretty distinctly written. - -Then less legibly: “They have been chasing me for some time, and it is -only a question of”—the word “time” seemed to have been written here -and erased in favour of something illegible—“before they get me. They -are beating all about me.” - -Then the writing became convulsive. “I can hear them,” I guessed the -tracing meant, and then it was quite unreadable for a space. Then came -a little string of words that were quite distinct: “a different sort of -Selenite altogether, who appears to be directing the—” The writing -became a mere hasty confusion again. - -“They have larger brain cases—much larger, and slenderer bodies, and -very short legs. They make gentle noises, and move with organized -deliberation... - -“And though I am wounded and helpless here, their appearance still -gives me hope.” That was like Cavor. “They have not shot at me or -attempted... injury. I intend—” - -Then came the sudden streak of the pencil across the paper, and on the -back and edges—blood! - -And as I stood there stupid, and perplexed, with this dumbfounding -relic in my hand, something very soft and light and chill touched my -hand for a moment and ceased to be, and then a thing, a little white -speck, drifted athwart a shadow. It was a tiny snowflake, the first -snowflake, the herald of the night. - -I looked up with a start, and the sky had darkened almost to blackness, -and was thick with a gathering multitude of coldly watchful stars. I -looked eastward, and the light of that shrivelled world was touched -with sombre bronze; westward, and the sun robbed now by a thickening -white mist of half its heat and splendour, was touching the crater rim, -was sinking out of sight, and all the shrubs and jagged and tumbled -rocks stood out against it in a bristling disorder of black shapes. -Into the great lake of darkness westward, a vast wreath of mist was -sinking. A cold wind set all the crater shivering. Suddenly, for a -moment, I was in a puff of falling snow, and all the world about me -grey and dim. - -And then it was I heard, not loud and penetrating as at first, but -faint and dim like a dying voice, that tolling, that same tolling that -had welcomed the coming of the day: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... - -It echoed about the crater, it seemed to throb with the throbbing of -the greater stars, the blood-red crescent of the sun’s disc sank as it -tolled out: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... - -What had happened to Cavor? All through that tolling I stood there -stupidly, and at last the tolling ceased. - -And suddenly the open mouth of the tunnel down below there, shut like -an eye and vanished out of sight. - -Then indeed was I alone. - -Over me, around me, closing in on me, embracing me ever nearer, was the -Eternal; that which was before the beginning, and that which triumphs -over the end; that enormous void in which all light and life and being -is but the thin and vanishing splendour of a falling star, the cold, -the stillness, the silence—the infinite and final Night of space. - -The sense of solitude and desolation became the sense of an -overwhelming presence that stooped towards me, that almost touched me. - -“No,” I cried. “_No!_ Not yet! not yet! Wait! Wait! Oh, wait!” My voice -went up to a shriek. I flung the crumpled paper from me, scrambled back -to the crest to take my bearings, and then, with all the will that was -in me, leapt out towards the mark I had left, dim and distant now in -the very margin of the shadow. - -Leap, leap, leap, and each leap was seven ages. - -Before me the pale serpent-girdled section of the sun sank and sank, -and the advancing shadow swept to seize the sphere before I could reach -it. I was two miles away, a hundred leaps or more, and the air about me -was thinning out as it thins under an air-pump, and the cold was -gripping at my joints. But had I died, I should have died leaping. -Once, and then again my foot slipped on the gathering snow as I leapt -and shortened my leap; once I fell short into bushes that crashed and -smashed into dusty chips and nothingness, and once I stumbled as I -dropped and rolled head over heels into a gully, and rose bruised and -bleeding and confused as to my direction. - -But such incidents were as nothing to the intervals, those awful pauses -when one drifted through the air towards that pouring tide of night. My -breathing made a piping noise, and it was as though knives were -whirling in my lungs. My heart seemed to beat against the top of my -brain. “Shall I reach it? O Heaven! Shall I reach it?” - -My whole being became anguish. - -“Lie down!” screamed my pain and despair; “lie down!” - -The nearer I struggled, the more awfully remote it seemed. I was numb, -I stumbled, I bruised and cut myself and did not bleed. - -It was in sight. - -I fell on all fours, and my lungs whooped. - -I crawled. The frost gathered on my lips, icicles hung from my -moustache, I was white with the freezing atmosphere. - -I was a dozen yards from it. My eyes had become dim. “Lie down!” -screamed despair; “lie down!” - -I touched it, and halted. “Too late!” screamed despair; “lie down!” - -I fought stiffly with it. I was on the manhole lip, a stupefied, -half-dead being. The snow was all about me. I pulled myself in. There -lurked within a little warmer air. - -The snowflakes—the airflakes—danced in about me, as I tried with -chilling hands to thrust the valve in and spun it tight and hard. I -sobbed. “I will,” I chattered in my teeth. And then, with fingers that -quivered and felt brittle, I turned to the shutter studs. - -As I fumbled with the switches—for I had never controlled them before—I -could see dimly through the steaming glass the blazing red streamers of -the sinking sun, dancing and flickering through the snowstorm, and the -black forms of the scrub thickening and bending and breaking beneath -the accumulating snow. Thicker whirled the snow and thicker, black -against the light. What if even now the switches overcame me? Then -something clicked under my hands, and in an instant that last vision of -the moon world was hidden from my eyes. I was in the silence and -darkness of the inter-planetary sphere. - - - - -XX. -Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space - - -It was almost as though I had been killed. Indeed, I could imagine a -man suddenly and violently killed would feel very much as I did. One -moment, a passion of agonising existence and fear; the next, darkness -and stillness, neither light nor life nor sun, moon nor stars, the -blank infinite. Although the thing was done by my own act, although I -had already tasted this very of effect in Cavor’s company, I felt -astonished, dumbfounded, and overwhelmed. I seemed to be borne upward -into an enormous darkness. My fingers floated off the studs, I hung as -if I were annihilated, and at last very softly and gently I came -against the bale and the golden chain, and the crowbars that had -drifted to the middle of the sphere. - -I do not know how long that drifting took. In the sphere of course, -even more than on the moon, one’s earthly time sense was ineffectual. -At the touch of the bale it was as if I had awakened from a dreamless -sleep. I immediately perceived that if I wanted to keep awake and alive -I must get a light or open a window, so as to get a grip of something -with my eyes. And besides, I was cold. I kicked off from the bale, -therefore, clawed on to the thin cords within the glass, crawled along -until I got to the manhole rim, and so got my bearings for the light -and blind studs, took a shove off, and flying once round the bale, and -getting a scare from something big and flimsy that was drifting loose, -I got my hand on the cord quite close to the studs, and reached them. I -lit the little lamp first of all to see what it was I had collided -with, and discovered that old copy of _Lloyd’s News_ had slipped its -moorings, and was adrift in the void. That brought me out of the -infinite to my own proper dimensions again. It made me laugh and pant -for a time, and suggested the idea of a little oxygen from one of the -cylinders. After that I lit the heater until I felt warm, and then I -took food. Then I set to work in a very gingerly fashion on the -Cavorite blinds, to see if I could guess by any means how the sphere -was travelling. - -The first blind I opened I shut at once, and hung for a time flattened -and blinded by the sunlight that had hit me. After thinking a little I -started upon the windows at right angles to this one, and got the huge -crescent moon and the little crescent earth behind it, the second time. -I was amazed to find how far I was from the moon. I had reckoned that -not only should I have little or none of the “kick-off” that the -earth’s atmosphere had given us at our start, but that the tangential -“fly off” of the moon’s spin would be at least twenty-eight times less -than the earth’s. I had expected to discover myself hanging over our -crater, and on the edge of the night, but all that was now only a part -of the outline of the white crescent that filled the sky. And Cavor—? - -He was already infinitesimal. - -I tried to imagine what could have happened to him. But at that time I -could think of nothing but death. I seemed to see him, bent and smashed -at the foot of some interminably high cascade of blue. And all about -him the stupid insects stared... - -Under the inspiring touch of the drifting newspaper I became practical -again for a while. It was quite clear to me that what I had to do was -to get back to earth, but as far as I could see I was drifting away -from it. Whatever had happened to Cavor, even if he was still alive, -which seemed to me incredible after that blood-stained scrap, I was -powerless to help him. There he was, living or dead behind the mantle -of that rayless night, and there he must remain at least until I could -summon our fellow men to his assistance. Should I do that? Something of -the sort I had in my mind; to come back to earth if it were possible, -and then as maturer consideration might determine, either to show and -explain the sphere to a few discreet persons, and act with them, or -else to keep my secret, sell my gold, obtain weapons, provisions, and -an assistant, and return with these advantages to deal on equal terms -with the flimsy people of the moon, to rescue Cavor, if that were still -possible, and at any rate to procure a sufficient supply of gold to -place my subsequent proceedings on a firmer basis. But that was hoping -far; I had first to get back. - -I set myself to decide just exactly how the return to earth could be -contrived. As I struggled with that problem I ceased to worry about -what I should do when I got there. At last my only care was to get -back. - -I puzzled out at last that my best chance would be to drop back towards -the moon as near as I dared in order to gather velocity, then to shut -my windows, and fly behind it, and when I was past to open my earthward -windows, and so get off at a good pace homeward. But whether I should -ever reach the earth by that device, or whether I might not simply find -myself spinning about it in some hyperbolic or parabolic curve or -other, I could not tell. Later I had a happy inspiration, and by -opening certain windows to the moon, which had appeared in the sky in -front of the earth, I turned my course aside so as to head off the -earth, which it had become evident to me I must pass behind without -some such expedient. I did a very great deal of complicated thinking -over these problems—for I am no mathematician—and in the end I am -certain it was much more my good luck than my reasoning that enabled me -to hit the earth. Had I known then, as I know now, the mathematical -chances there were against me, I doubt if I should have troubled even -to touch the studs to make any attempt. And having puzzled out what I -considered to be the thing to do, I opened all my moonward windows, and -squatted down—the effort lifted me for a time some feet or so into the -air, and I hung there in the oddest way—and waited for the crescent to -get bigger and bigger until I felt I was near enough for safety. Then I -would shut the windows, fly past the moon with the velocity I had got -from it—if I did not smash upon it—and so go on towards the earth. - -And that is what I did. - -At last I felt my moonward start was sufficient. I shut out the sight -of the moon from my eyes, and in a state of mind that was, I now -recall, incredibly free from anxiety or any distressful quality, I sat -down to begin a vigil in that little speck of matter in infinite space -that would last until I should strike the earth. The heater had made -the sphere tolerably warm, the air had been refreshed by the oxygen, -and except for that faint congestion of the head that was always with -me while I was away from earth, I felt entire physical comfort. I had -extinguished the light again, lest it should fail me in the end; I was -in darkness, save for the earthshine and the glitter of the stars below -me. Everything was so absolutely silent and still that I might indeed -have been the only being in the universe, and yet, strangely enough, I -had no more feeling of loneliness or fear than if I had been lying in -bed on earth. Now, this seems all the stranger to me, since during my -last hours in that crater of the moon, the sense of my utter loneliness -had been an agony.... - -Incredible as it will seem, this interval of time that I spent in space -has no sort of proportion to any other interval of time in my life. -Sometimes it seemed as though I sat through immeasurable eternities -like some god upon a lotus leaf, and again as though there was a -momentary pause as I leapt from moon to earth. In truth, it was -altogether some weeks of earthly time. But I had done with care and -anxiety, hunger or fear, for that space. I floated, thinking with a -strange breadth and freedom of all that we had undergone, and of all my -life and motives, and the secret issues of my being. I seemed to myself -to have grown greater and greater, to have lost all sense of movement; -to be floating amidst the stars, and always the sense of earth’s -littleness and the infinite littleness of my life upon it, was implicit -in my thoughts. - -I can’t profess to explain the things that happened in my mind. No -doubt they could all be traced directly or indirectly to the curious -physical conditions under which I was living. I set them down here just -for what they are worth, and without any comment. The most prominent -quality of it was a pervading doubt of my own identity. I became, if I -may so express it, dissociate from Bedford; I looked down on Bedford as -a trivial, incidental thing with which I chanced to be connected. I saw -Bedford in many relations—as an ass or as a poor beast, where I had -hitherto been inclined to regard him with a quiet pride as a very -spirited or rather forcible person. I saw him not only as an ass, but -as the son of many generations of asses. I reviewed his school-days and -his early manhood, and his first encounter with love, very much as one -might review the proceedings of an ant in the sand. Something of that -period of lucidity I regret still hangs about me, and I doubt if I -shall ever recover the full-bodied self satisfaction of my early days. -But at the time the thing was not in the least painful, because I had -that extraordinary persuasion that, as a matter of fact, I was no more -Bedford than I was any one else, but only a mind floating in the still -serenity of space. Why should I be disturbed about this Bedford’s -shortcomings? I was not responsible for him or them. - -For a time I struggled against this really very grotesque delusion. I -tried to summon the memory of vivid moments, of tender or intense -emotions to my assistance; I felt that if I could recall one genuine -twinge of feeling the growing severance would be stopped. But I could -not do it. I saw Bedford rushing down Chancery Lane, hat on the back of -his head, coat tails flying out, _en route_ for his public examination. -I saw him dodging and bumping against, and even saluting, other similar -little creatures in that swarming gutter of people. Me? I saw Bedford -that same evening in the sitting-room of a certain lady, and his hat -was on the table beside him, and it wanted brushing badly, and he was -in tears. Me? I saw him with that lady in various attitudes and -emotions—I never felt so detached before.... I saw him hurrying off to -Lympne to write a play, and accosting Cavor, and in his shirt sleeves -working at the sphere, and walking out to Canterbury because he was -afraid to come! Me? I did not believe it. - -I still reasoned that all this was hallucination due to my solitude, -and the fact that I had lost all weight and sense of resistance. I -endeavoured to recover that sense by banging myself about the sphere, -by pinching my hands and clasping them together. Among other things, I -lit the light, captured that torn copy of _Lloyd’s_, and read those -convincingly realistic advertisements about the Cutaway bicycle, and -the gentleman of private means, and the lady in distress who was -selling those “forks and spoons.” There was no doubt they existed -surely enough, and, said I, “This is your world, and you are Bedford, -and you are going back to live among things like that for all the rest -of your life.” But the doubts within me could still argue: “It is not -you that is reading, it is Bedford, but you are not Bedford, you know. -That’s just where the mistake comes in.” - -“Confound it!” I cried; “and if I am not Bedford, what am I?” - -But in that direction no light was forthcoming, though the strangest -fancies came drifting into my brain, queer remote suspicions, like -shadows seen from away. Do you know, I had a sort of idea that really I -was something quite outside not only the world, but all worlds, and out -of space and time, and that this poor Bedford was just a peephole -through which I looked at life? ... - -Bedford! However I disavowed him, there I was most certainly bound up -with him, and I knew that wherever or whatever I might be, I must needs -feel the stress of his desires, and sympathise with all his joys and -sorrows until his life should end. And with the dying of Bedford—what -then? ... - -Enough of this remarkable phase of my experiences! I tell it here -simply to show how one’s isolation and departure from this planet -touched not only the functions and feeling of every organ of the body, -but indeed also the very fabric of the mind, with strange and -unanticipated disturbances. All through the major portion of that vast -space journey I hung thinking of such immaterial things as these, hung -dissociated and apathetic, a cloudy megalomaniac, as it were, amidst -the stars and planets in the void of space; and not only the world to -which I was returning, but the blue-lit caverns of the Selenites, their -helmet faces, their gigantic and wonderful machines, and the fate of -Cavor, dragged helpless into that world, seemed infinitely minute and -altogether trivial things to me. - -Until at last I began to feel the pull of the earth upon my being, -drawing me back again to the life that is real for men. And then, -indeed, it grew clearer and clearer to me that I was quite certainly -Bedford after all, and returning after amazing adventures to this world -of ours, and with a life that I was very likely to lose in this return. -I set myself to puzzle out the conditions under which I must fall to -earth. - - - - -XXI. -Mr. Bedford at Littlestone - - -My line of flight was about parallel with the surface as I came into -the upper air. The temperature of the sphere began to rise forthwith. I -knew it behoved me to drop at once. Far below me, in a darkling -twilight, stretched a great expanse of sea. I opened every window I -could, and fell—out of sunshine into evening, and out of evening into -night. Vaster grew the earth and vaster, swallowing up the stars, and -the silvery translucent starlit veil of cloud it wore spread out to -catch me. At last the world seemed no longer a sphere but flat, and -then concave. It was no longer a planet in the sky, but the world of -Man. I shut all but an inch or so of earthward window, and dropped with -a slackening velocity. The broadening water, now so near that I could -see the dark glitter of the waves, rushed up to meet me. The sphere -became very hot. I snapped the last strip of window, and sat scowling -and biting my knuckles, waiting for the impact.... - -The sphere hit the water with a huge splash: it must have sent it -fathoms high. At the splash I flung the Cavorite shutters open. Down I -went, but slower and slower, and then I felt the sphere pressing -against my feet, and so drove up again as a bubble drives. And at the -last I was floating and rocking upon the surface of the sea, and my -journey in space was at an end. - -The night was dark and overcast. Two yellow pinpoints far away showed -the passing of a ship, and nearer was a red glare that came and went. -Had not the electricity of my glow-lamp exhausted itself, I could have -got picked up that night. In spite of the inordinate fatigue I was -beginning to feel, I was excited now, and for a time hopeful, in a -feverish, impatient way, that so my travelling might end. - -But at last I ceased to move about, and sat, wrists on knees, staring -at a distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My -excitement passed. I realised I had yet to spend another night at least -in the sphere. I perceived myself infinitely heavy and fatigued. And so -I fell asleep. - -A change in my rhythmic motion awakened me. I peered through the -refracting glass, and saw that I had come aground upon a huge shallow -of sand. Far away I seemed to see houses and trees, and seaward a -curved, vague distortion of a ship hung between sea and sky. - -I stood up and staggered. My one desire was to emerge. The manhole was -upward, and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly I opened the manhole. At -last the air was singing in again as once it had sung out. But this -time I did not wait until the pressure was adjusted. In another moment -I had the weight of the window on my hands, and I was open, wide open, -to the old familiar sky of earth. - -The air hit me on the chest so that I gasped. I dropped the glass -screw. I cried out, put my hands to my chest, and sat down. For a time -I was in pain. Then I took deep breaths. At last I could rise and move -about again. - -I tried to thrust my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled -over. It was as though something had lugged my head down directly it -emerged. I ducked back sharply, or I should have been pinned face under -water. After some wriggling and shoving I managed to crawl out upon -sand, over which the retreating waves still came and went. - -I did not attempt to stand up. It seemed to me that my body must be -suddenly changed to lead. Mother Earth had her grip on me now—no -Cavorite intervening. I sat down heedless of the water that came over -my feet. - -It was dawn, a grey dawn, rather overcast but showing here and there a -long patch of greenish grey. Some way out a ship was lying at anchor, a -pale silhouette of a ship with one yellow light. The water came -rippling in in long shallow waves. Away to the right curved the land, a -shingle bank with little hovels, and at last a lighthouse, a sailing -mark and a point. Inland stretched a space of level sand, broken here -and there by pools of water, and ending a mile away perhaps in a low -shore of scrub. To the north-east some isolated watering-place was -visible, a row of gaunt lodging-houses, the tallest things that I could -see on earth, dull dabs against the brightening sky. What strange men -can have reared these vertical piles in such an amplitude of space I do -not know. There they are, like pieces of Brighton lost in the waste. - -For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. At last I -struggled to rise. It made me feel that I was lifting a weight. I stood -up. - -I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since our starvation -in the crater I thought of earthly food. “Bacon,” I whispered, “eggs. -Good toast and good coffee.... And how the devil am I going to get all -this stuff to Lympne?” I wondered where I was. It was an east shore -anyhow, and I had seen Europe before I dropped. - -I heard footsteps crunching in the sand, and a little round-faced, -friendly-looking man in flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped about -his shoulders, and his bathing dress over his arm, appeared up the -beach. I knew instantly that I must be in England. He was staring most -intently at the sphere and me. He advanced staring. I dare say I looked -a ferocious savage enough—dirty, unkempt, to an indescribable degree; -but it did not occur to me at the time. He stopped at a distance of -twenty yards. “Hul-lo, my man!” he said doubtfully. - -“Hullo yourself!” said I. - -He advanced, reassured by that. “What on earth is that thing?” he -asked. - -“Can you tell me where I am?” I asked. - -“That’s Littlestone,” he said, pointing to the houses; “and that’s -Dungeness! Have you just landed? What’s that thing you’ve got? Some -sort of machine?” - -“Yes.” - -“Have you floated ashore? Have you been wrecked or something? What is -it?” - -I meditated swiftly. I made an estimate of the little man’s appearance -as he drew nearer. “By Jove!” he said, “you’ve had a time of it! I -thought you— Well— Where were you cast away? Is that thing a sort of -floating thing for saving life?” - -I decided to take that line for the present. I made a few vague -affirmatives. “I want help,” I said hoarsely. “I want to get some stuff -up the beach—stuff I can’t very well leave about.” I became aware of -three other pleasant-looking young men with towels, blazers, and straw -hats, coming down the sands towards me. Evidently the early bathing -section of this Littlestone. - -“Help!” said the young man: “rather!” He became vaguely active. “What -particularly do you want done?” He turned round and gesticulated. The -three young men accelerated their pace. In a minute they were about me, -plying me with questions I was indisposed to answer. “I’ll tell all -that later,” I said. “I’m dead beat. I’m a rag.” - -“Come up to the hotel,” said the foremost little man. “We’ll look after -that thing there.” - -I hesitated. “I can’t,” I said. “In that sphere there’s two big bars of -gold.” - -They looked incredulously at one another, then at me with a new -inquiry. I went to the sphere, stooped, crept in, and presently they -had the Selenites’ crowbars and the broken chain before them. If I had -not been so horribly fagged I could have laughed at them. It was like -kittens round a beetle. They didn’t know what to do with the stuff. The -fat little man stooped and lifted the end of one of the bars, and then -dropped it with a grunt. Then they all did. - -“It’s lead, or gold!” said one. - -“Oh, it’s _gold!_” said another. - -“Gold, right enough,” said the third. - -Then they all stared at me, and then they all stared at the ship lying -at anchor. - -“I say!” cried the little man. “But where did you get that?” - -I was too tired to keep up a lie. “I got it in the moon.” - -I saw them stare at one another. - -“Look here!” said I, “I’m not going to argue now. Help me carry these -lumps of gold up to the hotel—I guess, with rests, two of you can -manage one, and I’ll trail this chain thing—and I’ll tell you more when -I’ve had some food.” - -“And how about that thing?” - -“It won’t hurt there,” I said. “Anyhow—confound it!—it must stop there -now. If the tide comes up, it will float all right.” - -And in a state of enormous wonderment, these young men most obediently -hoisted my treasures on their shoulders, and with limbs that felt like -lead I headed a sort of procession towards that distant fragment of -“sea-front.” Half-way there we were reinforced by two awe-stricken -little girls with spades, and later a lean little boy, with a -penetrating sniff, appeared. He was, I remember, wheeling a bicycle, -and he accompanied us at a distance of about a hundred yards on our -right flank, and then I suppose, gave us up as uninteresting, mounted -his bicycle and rode off over the level sands in the direction of the -sphere. - -I glanced back after him. - -“_He_ won’t touch it,” said the stout young man reassuringly, and I was -only too willing to be reassured. - -At first something of the grey of the morning was in my mind, but -presently the sun disengaged itself from the level clouds of the -horizon and lit the world, and turned the leaden sea to glittering -waters. My spirits rose. A sense of the vast importance of the things I -had done and had yet to do came with the sunlight into my mind. I -laughed aloud as the foremost man staggered under my gold. When indeed -I took my place in the world, how amazed the world would be! - -If it had not been for my inordinate fatigue, the landlord of the -Littlestone hotel would have been amusing, as he hesitated between my -gold and my respectable company on the one and my filthy appearance on -the other. But at last I found myself in a terrestrial bathroom once -more with warm water to wash myself with, and a change of raiment, -preposterously small indeed, but anyhow clean, that the genial little -man had lent me. He lent me a razor too, but I could not screw up my -resolution to attack even the outposts of the bristling beard that -covered my face. - -I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a sort of languid -appetite—an appetite many weeks old and very decrepit—and stirred -myself to answer the questions of the four young men. And I told them -the truth. - -“Well,” said I, “as you press me—I got it in the moon.” - -“The moon?” - -“Yes, the moon in the sky.” - -“But how do you mean?” - -“What I say, confound it!” - -“Then you have just come from the moon?” - -“Exactly! through space—in that ball.” And I took a delicious mouthful -of egg. I made a private note that when I went back to the moon I would -take a box of eggs. - -I could see clearly that they did not believe one word of what I told -them, but evidently they considered me the most respectable liar they -had ever met. They glanced at one another, and then concentrated the -fire of their eyes on me. I fancy they expected a clue to me in the way -I helped myself to salt. They seemed to find something significant in -my peppering my egg. These strangely shaped masses of gold they had -staggered under held their minds. There the lumps lay in front of me, -each worth thousands of pounds, and as impossible for any one to steal -as a house or a piece of land. As I looked at their curious faces over -my coffee-cup, I realised something of the enormous wilderness of -explanations into which I should have to wander to render myself -comprehensible again. - -“You don’t _really_ mean—” began the youngest young man, in the tone of -one who speaks to an obstinate child. - -“Just pass me that toast-rack,” I said, and shut him up completely. - -“But look here, I say,” began one of the others. “We’re not going to -believe that, you know.” - -“Ah, well,” said I, and shrugged my shoulders. - -“He doesn’t want to tell us,” said the youngest young man in a stage -aside; and then, with an appearance of great _sang-froid_, “You don’t -mind if I take a cigarette?” - -I waved him a cordial assent, and proceeded with my breakfast. Two of -the others went and looked out of the farther window and talked -inaudibly. I was struck by a thought. “The tide,” I said, “is running -out?” - -There was a pause, a doubt who should answer me. - -“It’s near the ebb,” said the fat little man. - -“Well, anyhow,” I said, “it won’t float far.” - -I decapitated my third egg, and began a little speech. “Look here,” I -said. “Please don’t imagine I’m surly or telling you uncivil lies, or -anything of that sort. I’m forced almost, to be a little short and -mysterious. I can quite understand this is as queer as it can be, and -that your imaginations must be going it. I can assure you, you’re in at -a memorable time. But I can’t make it clear to you now—it’s impossible. -I give you my word of honour I’ve come from the moon, and that’s all I -can tell you.... All the same, I’m tremendously obliged to you, you -know, tremendously. I hope that my manner hasn’t in any way given you -offence.” - -“Oh, not in the least!” said the youngest young man affably. “We can -quite understand,” and staring hard at me all the time, he heeled his -chair back until it very nearly upset, and recovered with some -exertion. “Not a bit of it,” said the fat young man. - -“Don’t you imagine _that!_” and they all got up and dispersed, and -walked about and lit cigarettes, and generally tried to show they were -perfectly amiable and disengaged, and entirely free from the slightest -curiosity about me and the sphere. “I’m going to keep an eye on that -ship out there all the same,” I heard one of them remarking in an -undertone. If only they could have forced themselves to it, they would, -I believe, even have gone out and left me. I went on with my third egg. - -“The weather,” the fat little man remarked presently, “has been -immense, has it not? I don’t know _when_ we have had such a summer.” - -Phoo-whizz! Like a tremendous rocket! - -And somewhere a window was broken.... - -“What’s that?” said I. - -“It isn’t—?” cried the little man, and rushed to the corner window. - -All the others rushed to the window likewise. I sat staring at them. - -Suddenly I leapt up, knocked over my third egg, rushed for the window -also. I had just thought of something. “Nothing to be seen there,” -cried the little man, rushing for the door. - -“It’s that boy!” I cried, bawling in hoarse fury; “it’s that accursed -boy!” and turning about I pushed the waiter aside—he was just bringing -me some more toast—and rushed violently out of the room and down and -out upon the queer little esplanade in front of the hotel. - -The sea, which had been smooth, was rough now with hurrying cat’s-paws, -and all about where the sphere had been was tumbled water like the wake -of a ship. Above, a little puff of cloud whirled like dispersing smoke, -and the three or four people on the beach were staring up with -interrogative faces towards the point of that unexpected report. And -that was all! Boots and waiter and the four young men in blazers came -rushing out behind me. Shouts came from windows and doors, and all -sorts of worrying people came into sight—agape. - -For a time I stood there, too overwhelmed by this new development to -think of the people. - -At first I was too stunned to see the thing as any definite disaster—I -was just stunned, as a man is by some accidental violent blow. It is -only afterwards he begins to appreciate his specific injury. - -“Good Lord!” - -I felt as though somebody was pouring funk out of a can down the back -of my neck. My legs became feeble. I had got the first intimation of -what the disaster meant for me. There was that confounded boy—sky high! -I was utterly left. There was the gold in the coffee-room—my only -possession on earth. How would it all work out? The general effect was -of a gigantic unmanageable confusion. - -“I say,” said the voice of the little man behind. “I _say_, you know.” - -I wheeled about, and there were twenty or thirty people, a sort of -irregular investment of people, all bombarding me with dumb -interrogation, with infinite doubt and suspicion. I felt the compulsion -of their eyes intolerably. I groaned aloud. - -“I _can’t_,” I shouted. “I tell you I can’t! I’m not equal to it! You -must puzzle and—and be damned to you!” - -I gesticulated convulsively. He receded a step as though I had -threatened him. I made a bolt through them into the hotel. I charged -back into the coffee-room, rang the bell furiously. I gripped the -waiter as he entered. “D’ye hear?” I shouted. “Get help and carry these -bars up to my room right away.” - -He failed to understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A -scared-looking little old man in a green apron appeared, and further -two of the young men in flannels. I made a dash at them and -commandeered their services. As soon as the gold was in my room I felt -free to quarrel. “Now get out,” I shouted; “all of you get out if you -don’t want to see a man go mad before your eyes!” And I helped the -waiter by the shoulder as he hesitated in the doorway. And then, as -soon as I had the door locked on them all, I tore off the little man’s -clothes again, shied them right and left, and got into bed forthwith. -And there I lay swearing and panting and cooling for a very long time. - -At last I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring up the round-eyed -waiter for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good -cigars. And these things being procured me, after an exasperating delay -that drove me several times to the bell, I locked the door again and -proceeded very deliberately to look the entire situation in the face. - -The net result of the great experiment presented itself as an absolute -failure. It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was an absolute -collapse, and this was the final disaster. There was nothing for it but -to save myself, and as much as I could in the way of prospects from our -_débâcle_. At one fatal crowning blow all my vague resolutions of -return and recovery had vanished. My intention of going back to the -moon, of getting a sphereful of gold, and afterwards of having a -fragment of Cavorite analysed and so recovering the great -secret—perhaps, finally, even of recovering Cavor’s body—all these -ideas vanished altogether. - -I was the sole survivor, and that was all. - -I think that going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had -in an emergency. I really believe I should either have got loose-headed -or done some indiscreet thing. But there, locked in and secure from all -interruptions, I could think out the position in all its bearings and -make my arrangements at leisure. - -Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He -had crawled into the sphere, meddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite -windows, and gone up. It was highly improbable he had screwed the -manhole stopper, and, even if he had, the chances were a thousand to -one against his getting back. It was fairly evident that he would -gravitate with my bales to somewhere near the middle of the sphere and -remain there, and so cease to be a legitimate terrestrial interest, -however remarkable he might seem to the inhabitants of some remote -quarter of space. I very speedily convinced myself on that point. And -as for any responsibility I might have in the matter, the more I -reflected upon that, the clearer it became that if only I kept quiet -about things, I need not trouble myself about that. If I was faced by -sorrowing parents demanding their lost boy, I had merely to demand my -lost sphere—or ask them what they meant. At first I had had a vision of -weeping parents and guardians, and all sorts of complications; but now -I saw that I simply had to keep my mouth shut, and nothing in that way -could arise. And, indeed, the more I lay and smoked and thought, the -more evident became the wisdom of impenetrability. - -It is within the right of every British citizen, provided he does not -commit damage nor indecorum, to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, -and as ragged and filthy as he pleases, and with whatever amount of -virgin gold he sees fit to encumber himself, and no one has any right -at all to hinder and detain him in this procedure. I formulated that at -last to myself, and repeated it over as a sort of private Magna Charta -of my liberty. - -Once I had put that issue on one side, I could take up and consider in -an equable manner certain considerations I had scarcely dared to think -of before, namely, those arising out of the circumstances of my -bankruptcy. But now, looking at this matter calmly and at leisure, I -could see that if only I suppressed my identity by a temporary -assumption of some less well-known name, and if I retained the two -months’ beard that had grown upon me, the risks of any annoyance from -the spiteful creditor to whom I have already alluded became very small -indeed. From that to a definite course of rational worldly action was -plain sailing. It was all amazingly petty, no doubt, but what was there -remaining for me to do? - -Whatever I did I was resolved that I would keep myself level and right -side up. - -I ordered up writing materials, and addressed a letter to the New -Romney Bank—the nearest, the waiter informed me—telling the manager I -wished to open an account with him, and requesting him to send two -trustworthy persons properly authenticated in a cab with a good horse -to fetch some hundredweight of gold with which I happened to be -encumbered. I signed the letter “Blake,” which seemed to me to be a -thoroughly respectable sort of name. This done, I got a Folkstone Blue -Book, picked out an outfitter, and asked him to send a cutter to -measure me for a dark tweed suit, ordering at the same time a valise, -dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, hat (to fit), and so forth; and from -a watchmaker I also ordered a watch. And these letters being -despatched, I had up as good a lunch as the hotel could give, and then -lay smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as possible, until in -accordance with my instructions two duly authenticated clerks came from -the bank and weighed and took away my gold. After which I pulled the -clothes over my ears in order to drown any knocking, and went very -comfortably to sleep. - -I went to sleep. No doubt it was a prosaic thing for the first man back -from the moon to do, and I can imagine that the young and imaginative -reader will find my behaviour disappointing. But I was horribly -fatigued and bothered, and, confound it! what else was there to do? -There certainly was not the remotest chance of my being believed, if I -had told my story then, and it would certainly have subjected me to -intolerable annoyances. I went to sleep. When at last I woke up again I -was ready to face the world as I have always been accustomed to face it -since I came to years of discretion. And so I got away to Italy, and -there it is I am writing this story. If the world will not have it as -fact, then the world may take it as fiction. It is no concern of mine. - -And now that the account is finished, I am amazed to think how -completely this adventure is gone and done with. Everybody believes -that Cavor was a not very brilliant scientific experimenter who blew up -his house and himself at Lympne, and they explain the bang that -followed my arrival at Littlestone by a reference to the experiments -with explosives that are going on continually at the government -establishment of Lydd, two miles away. I must confess that hitherto I -have not acknowledged my share in the disappearance of Master Tommy -Simmons, which was that little boy’s name. That, perhaps, may prove a -difficult item of corroboration to explain away. They account for my -appearance in rags with two bars of indisputable gold upon the -Littlestone beach in various ingenious ways—it doesn’t worry me what -they think of me. They say I have strung all these things together to -avoid being questioned too closely as to the source of my wealth. I -would like to see the man who could invent a story that would hold -together like this one. Well, they must take it as fiction—there it is. - -I have told my story—and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries -of this terrestrial life again. Even if one has been to the moon, one -has still to earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi, on the -scenario of that play I sketched before Cavor came walking into my -world, and I am trying to piece my life together as it was before ever -I saw him. I must confess that I find it hard to keep my mind on the -play when the moonshine comes into my room. It is full moon here, and -last night I was out on the pergola for hours, staring away at the -shining blankness that hides so much. Imagine it! tables and chairs, -and trestles and bars of gold! Confound it!—if only one could hit on -that Cavorite again! But a thing like that doesn’t come twice in a -life. Here I am, a little better off than I was at Lympne, and that is -all. And Cavor has committed suicide in a more elaborate way than any -human being ever did before. So the story closes as finally and -completely as a dream. It fits in so little with all the other things -of life, so much of it is so utterly remote from all human experience, -the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and these weightless times, -that indeed there are moments when, in spite of my moon gold, I do more -than half believe myself that the whole thing was a dream.... - - - - -XXII. -The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee - - -When I had finished my account of my return to the earth at -Littlestone, I wrote, “The End,” made a flourish, and threw my pen -aside, fully believing that the whole story of the First Men in the -Moon was done. Not only had I done this, but I had placed my manuscript -in the hands of a literary agent, had permitted it to be sold, had seen -the greater portion of it appear in the _Strand Magazine_, and was -setting to work again upon the scenario of the play I had commenced at -Lympne before I realised that the end was not yet. And then, following -me from Amalfi to Algiers, there reached me (it is now about six months -ago) one of the most astounding communications I have ever been fated -to receive. Briefly, it informed me that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a Dutch -electrician, who has been experimenting with certain apparatus akin to -the apparatus used by Mr. Tesla in America, in the hope of discovering -some method of communication with Mars, was receiving day by day a -curiously fragmentary message in English, which was indisputably -emanating from Mr. Cavor in the moon. - -At first I thought the thing was an elaborate practical joke by some -one who had seen the manuscript of my narrative. I answered Mr. -Wendigee jestingly, but he replied in a manner that put such suspicion -altogether aside, and in a state of inconceivable excitement I hurried -from Algiers to the little observatory upon the Monte Rosa in which he -was working. In the presence of his record and his appliances—and above -all of the messages from Cavor that were coming to hand—my lingering -doubts vanished. I decided at once to accept a proposal he made to me -to remain with him, assisting him to take down the record from day to -day, and endeavouring with him to send a message back to the moon. -Cavor, we learnt, was not only alive, but free, in the midst of an -almost inconceivable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, -in the blue darkness of the lunar caves. He was lamed, it seemed, but -otherwise in quite good health—in better health, he distinctly said, -than he usually enjoyed on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left -no bad effects. But curiously enough he seemed to be labouring under a -conviction that I was either dead in the moon crater or lost in the -deep of space. - -His message began to be received by Mr. Wendigee when that gentleman -was engaged in quite a different investigation. The reader will no -doubt recall the little excitement that began the century, arising out -of an announcement by Mr. Nikola Tesla, the American electrical -celebrity, that he had received a message from Mars. His announcement -renewed attention to a fact that had long been familiar to scientific -people, namely: that from some unknown source in space, waves of -electromagnetic disturbance, entirely similar to those used by Signor -Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, are constantly reaching the earth. -Besides Tesla quite a number of other observers have been engaged in -perfecting apparatus for receiving and recording these vibrations, -though few would go so far as to consider them actual messages from -some extraterrestrial sender. Among that few, however, we must -certainly count Mr. Wendigee. Ever since 1898 he had devoted himself -almost entirely to this subject, and being a man of ample means he had -erected an observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in a position -singularly adapted in every way for such observations. - -My scientific attainments, I must admit, are not great, but so far as -they enable me to judge, Mr. Wendigee’s contrivances for detecting and -recording any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space -are singularly original and ingenious. And by a happy combination of -circumstances they were set up and in operation about two months before -Cavor made his first attempt to call up the earth. Consequently we have -fragments of his communication even from the beginning. Unhappily, they -are only fragments, and the most momentous of all the things that he -had to tell humanity—the instructions, that is, for the making of -Cavorite, if, indeed, he ever transmitted them—have throbbed themselves -away unrecorded into space. We never succeeded in getting a response -back to Cavor. He was unable to tell, therefore, what we had received -or what we had missed; nor, indeed, did he certainly know that any one -on earth was really aware of his efforts to reach us. And the -persistence he displayed in sending eighteen long descriptions of lunar -affairs—as they would be if we had them complete—shows how much his -mind must have turned back towards his native planet since he left it -two years ago. - -You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been when he -discovered his record of electromagnetic disturbances interlaced by -Cavor’s straightforward English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild -journey moonward, and suddenly—this English out of the void! - -It is well the reader should understand the conditions under which it -would seem these messages were sent. Somewhere within the moon Cavor -certainly had access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical -apparatus, and it would seem he rigged up—perhaps furtively—a -transmitting arrangement of the Marconi type. This he was able to -operate at irregular intervals: sometimes for only half an hour or so, -sometimes for three or four hours at a stretch. At these times he -transmitted his earthward message, regardless of the fact that the -relative position of the moon and points upon the earth’s surface is -constantly altering. As a consequence of this and of the necessary -imperfections of our recording instruments his communication comes and -goes in our records in an extremely fitful manner; it becomes blurred; -it “fades out” in a mysterious and altogether exasperating way. And -added to this is the fact that he was not an expert operator; he had -partly forgotten, or never completely mastered, the code in general -use, and as he became fatigued he dropped words and misspelt in a -curious manner. - -Altogether we have probably lost quite half of the communications he -made, and much we have is damaged, broken, and partly effaced. In the -abstract that follows the reader must be prepared therefore for a -considerable amount of break, hiatus, and change of topic. Mr. Wendigee -and I are collaborating in a complete and annotated edition of the -Cavor record, which we hope to publish, together with a detailed -account of the instruments employed, beginning with the first volume in -January next. That will be the full and scientific report, of which -this is only the popular transcript. But here we give at least -sufficient to complete the story I have told, and to give the broad -outlines of the state of that other world so near, so akin, and yet so -dissimilar to our own. - - - - -XXIII. -An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor - - -The two earlier messages of Mr. Cavor may very well be reserved for -that larger volume. They simply tell, with greater brevity and with a -difference in several details that is interesting, but not of any vital -importance, the bare facts of the making of the sphere and our -departure from the world. Throughout, Cavor speaks of me as a man who -is dead, but with a curious change of temper as he approaches our -landing on the moon. “Poor Bedford,” he says of me, and “this poor -young man,” and he blames himself for inducing a young man, “by no -means well equipped for such adventures,” to leave a planet “on which -he was indisputably fitted to succeed” on so precarious a mission. I -think he underrates the part my energy and practical capacity played in -bringing about the realisation of his theoretical sphere. “We arrived,” -he says, with no more account of our passage through space than if we -had made a journey of common occurrence in a railway train. - -And then he becomes increasingly unfair to me. Unfair, indeed, to an -extent I should not have expected in a man trained in the search for -truth. Looking back over my previously written account of these things, -I must insist that I have been altogether juster to Cavor than he has -been to me. I have extenuated little and suppressed nothing. But his -account is:— - -“It speedily became apparent that the entire strangeness of our -circumstances and surroundings—great loss of weight, attenuated but -highly oxygenated air, consequent exaggeration of the results of -muscular effort, rapid development of weird plants from obscure spores, -lurid sky—was exciting my companion unduly. On the moon his character -seemed to deteriorate. He became impulsive, rash, and quarrelsome. In a -little while his folly in devouring some gigantic vesicles and his -consequent intoxication led to our capture by the Selenites—before we -had had the slightest opportunity of properly observing their ways....” - -(He says, you observe, nothing of his own concession to these same -“vesicles.”) - -And he goes on from that point to say that “We came to a difficult -passage with them, and Bedford mistaking certain gestures of -theirs”—pretty gestures they were!—“gave way to a panic violence. He -ran amuck, killed three, and perforce I had to flee with him after the -outrage. Subsequently we fought with a number who endeavoured to bar -our way, and slew seven or eight more. It says much for the tolerance -of these beings that on my recapture I was not instantly slain. We made -our way to the exterior and separated in the crater of our arrival, to -increase our chances of recovering our sphere. But presently I came -upon a body of Selenites, led by two who were curiously different, even -in form, from any of these we had seen hitherto, with larger heads and -smaller bodies, and much more elaborately wrapped about. And after -evading them for some time I fell into a crevasse, cut my head rather -badly, and displaced my patella, and, finding crawling very painful, -decided to surrender—if they would still permit me to do so. This they -did, and, perceiving my helpless condition, carried me with them again -into the moon. And of Bedford I have heard or seen nothing more, nor, -so far as I can gather, has any Selenite. Either the night overtook him -in the crater, or else, which is more probable, he found the sphere, -and, desiring to steal a march upon me, made off with it—only, I fear, -to find it uncontrollable, and to meet a more lingering fate in outer -space.” - -And with that Cavor dismisses me and goes on to more interesting -topics. I dislike the idea of seeming to use my position as his editor -to deflect his story in my own interest, but I am obliged to protest -here against the turn he gives these occurrences. He said nothing about -that gasping message on the blood-stained paper in which he told, or -attempted to tell, a very different story. The dignified self-surrender -is an altogether new view of the affair that has come to him, I must -insist, since he began to feel secure among the lunar people; and as -for the “stealing a march” conception, I am quite willing to let the -reader decide between us on what he has before him. I know I am not a -model man—I have made no pretence to be. But am I _that?_ - -However, that is the sum of my wrongs. From this point I can edit Cavor -with an untroubled mind, for he mentions me no more. - -It would seem the Selenites who had come upon him carried him to some -point in the interior down “a great shaft” by means of what he -describes as “a sort of balloon.” We gather from the rather confused -passage in which he describes this, and from a number of chance -allusions and hints in other and subsequent messages, that this “great -shaft” is one of an enormous system of artificial shafts that run, each -from what is called a lunar “crater,” downwards for very nearly a -hundred miles towards the central portion of our satellite. These -shafts communicate by transverse tunnels, they throw out abysmal -caverns and expand into great globular places; the whole of the moon’s -substance for a hundred miles inward, indeed, is a mere sponge of rock. -“Partly,” says Cavor, “this sponginess is natural, but very largely it -is due to the enormous industry of the Selenites in the past. The -enormous circular mounds of the excavated rock and earth it is that -form these great circles about the tunnels known to earthly astronomers -(misled by a false analogy) as volcanoes.” - -It was down this shaft they took him, in this “sort of balloon” he -speaks of, at first into an inky blackness and then into a region of -continually increasing phosphorescence. Cavor’s despatches show him to -be curiously regardless of detail for a scientific man, but we gather -that this light was due to the streams and cascades of water—“no doubt -containing some phosphorescent organism”—that flowed ever more -abundantly downward towards the Central Sea. And as he descended, he -says, “The Selenites also became luminous.” And at last far below him -he saw, as it were, a lake of heatless fire, the waters of the Central -Sea, glowing and eddying in strange perturbation, “like luminous blue -milk that is just on the boil.” - -“This Lunar Sea,” says Cavor, in a later passage, “is not a stagnant -ocean; a solar tide sends it in a perpetual flow around the lunar axis, -and strange storms and boilings and rushings of its waters occur, and -at times cold winds and thunderings that ascend out of it into the busy -ways of the great ant-hill above. It is only when the water is in -motion that it gives out light; in its rare seasons of calm it is -black. Commonly, when one sees it, its waters rise and fall in an oily -swell, and flakes and big rafts of shining, bubbly foam drift with the -sluggish, faintly glowing current. The Selenites navigate its cavernous -straits and lagoons in little shallow boats of a canoe-like shape; and -even before my journey to the galleries about the Grand Lunar, who is -Master of the Moon, I was permitted to make a brief excursion on its -waters. - -“The caverns and passages are naturally very tortuous. A large -proportion of these ways are known only to expert pilots among the -fishermen, and not infrequently Selenites are lost for ever in their -labyrinths. In their remoter recesses, I am told, strange creatures -lurk, some of them terrible and dangerous creatures that all the -science of the moon has been unable to exterminate. There is -particularly the Rapha, an inextricable mass of clutching tentacles -that one hacks to pieces only to multiply; and the Tzee, a darting -creature that is never seen, so subtly and suddenly does it slay...” - -He gives us a gleam of description. - -“I was reminded on this excursion of what I have read of the Mammoth -Caves; if only I had had a yellow flambeau instead of the pervading -blue light, and a solid-looking boatman with an oar instead of a -scuttle-faced Selenite working an engine at the back of the canoe, I -could have imagined I had suddenly got back to earth. The rocks about -us were very various, sometimes black, sometimes pale blue and veined, -and once they flashed and glittered as though we had come into a mine -of sapphires. And below one saw the ghostly phosphorescent fishes flash -and vanish in the hardly less phosphorescent deep. Then, presently, a -long ultra-marine vista down the turgid stream of one of the channels -of traffic, and a landing stage, and then, perhaps, a glimpse up the -enormous crowded shaft of one of the vertical ways. - -“In one great place heavy with glistening stalactites a number of boats -were fishing. We went alongside one of these and watched the long-armed -Selenites winding in a net. They were little, hunchbacked insects, with -very strong arms, short, bandy legs, and crinkled face-masks. As they -pulled at it that net seemed the heaviest thing I had come upon in the -moon; it was loaded with weights—no doubt of gold—and it took a long -time to draw, for in those waters the larger and more edible fish lurk -deep. The fish in the net came up like a blue moonrise—a blaze of -darting, tossing blue. - -“Among their catch was a many-tentaculate, evil-eyed black thing, -ferociously active, whose appearance they greeted with shrieks and -twitters, and which with quick, nervous movements they hacked to pieces -by means of little hatchets. All its dissevered limbs continued to lash -and writhe in a vicious manner. Afterwards, when fever had hold of me, -I dreamt again and again of that bitter, furious creature rising so -vigorous and active out of the unknown sea. It was the most active and -malignant thing of all the living creatures I have yet seen in this -world inside the moon.... - -“The surface of this sea must be very nearly two hundred miles (if not -more) below the level of the moon’s exterior; all the cities of the -moon lie, I learnt, immediately above this Central Sea, in such -cavernous spaces and artificial galleries as I have described, and they -communicate with the exterior by enormous vertical shafts which open -invariably in what are called by earthly astronomers the ‘craters’ of -the moon. The lid covering one such aperture I had already seen during -the wanderings that had preceded my capture. - -“Upon the condition of the less central portion of the moon I have not -yet arrived at very precise knowledge. There is an enormous system of -caverns in which the mooncalves shelter during the night; and there are -abattoirs and the like—in one of these it was that I and Bedford fought -with the Selenite butchers—and I have since seen balloons laden with -meat descending out of the upper dark. I have as yet scarcely learnt as -much of these things as a Zulu in London would learn about the British -corn supplies in the same time. It is clear, however, that these -vertical shafts and the vegetation of the surface must play an -essential role in ventilating and keeping fresh the atmosphere of the -moon. At one time, and particularly on my first emergence from my -prison, there was certainly a cold wind blowing _down_ the shaft, and -later there was a kind of sirocco upward that corresponded with my -fever. For at the end of about three weeks I fell ill of an indefinable -sort of fever, and in spite of sleep and the quinine tabloids that very -fortunately I had brought in my pocket, I remained ill and fretting -miserably, almost to the time when I was taken into the presence of the -Grand Lunar, who is Master of the Moon. - -“I will not dilate on the wretchedness of my condition,” he remarks, -“during those days of ill-health.” And he goes on with great amplitude -with details I omit here. “My temperature,” he concludes, “kept -abnormally high for a long time, and I lost all desire for food. I had -stagnant waking intervals, and sleep tormented by dreams, and at one -phase I was, I remember, so weak as to be earth-sick and almost -hysterical. I longed almost intolerably for colour to break the -everlasting blue...” - -He reverts again presently to the topic of this sponge-caught lunar -atmosphere. I am told by astronomers and physicists that all he tells -is in absolute accordance with what was already known of the moon’s -condition. Had earthly astronomers had the courage and imagination to -push home a bold induction, says Mr. Wendigee, they might have foretold -almost everything that Cavor has to say of the general structure of the -moon. They know now pretty certainly that moon and earth are not so -much satellite and primary as smaller and greater sisters, made out of -one mass, and consequently made of the same material. And since the -density of the moon is only three-fifths that of the earth, there can -be nothing for it but that she is hollowed out by a great system of -caverns. There was no necessity, said Sir Jabez Flap, F.R.S., that most -entertaining exponent of the facetious side of the stars, that we -should ever have gone to the moon to find out such easy inferences, and -points the pun with an allusion to Gruyère, but he certainly might have -announced his knowledge of the hollowness of the moon before. And if -the moon is hollow, then the apparent absence of air and water is, of -course, quite easily explained. The sea lies within at the bottom of -the caverns, and the air travels through the great sponge of galleries, -in accordance with simple physical laws. The caverns of the moon, on -the whole, are very windy places. As the sunlight comes round the moon -the air in the outer galleries on that side is heated, its pressure -increases, some flows out on the exterior and mingles with the -evaporating air of the craters (where the plants remove its carbonic -acid), while the greater portion flows round through the galleries to -replace the shrinking air of the cooling side that the sunlight has -left. There is, therefore, a constant eastward breeze in the air of the -outer galleries, and an upflow during the lunar day up the shafts, -complicated, of course, very greatly by the varying shape of the -galleries, and the ingenious contrivances of the Selenite mind.... - - - - -XXIV. -The Natural History of the Selenites - - -The messages of Cavor from the sixth up to the sixteenth are for the -most part so much broken, and they abound so in repetitions, that they -scarcely form a consecutive narrative. They will be given in full, of -course, in the scientific report, but here it will be far more -convenient to continue simply to abstract and quote as in the former -chapter. We have subjected every word to a keen critical scrutiny, and -my own brief memories and impressions of lunar things have been of -inestimable help in interpreting what would otherwise have been -impenetrably dark. And, naturally, as living beings, our interest -centres far more upon the strange community of lunar insects in which -he was living, it would seem, as an honoured guest than upon the mere -physical condition of their world. - -I have already made it clear, I think, that the Selenites I saw -resembled man in maintaining the erect attitude, and in having four -limbs, and I have compared the general appearance of their heads and -the jointing of their limbs to that of insects. I have mentioned, too, -the peculiar consequence of the smaller gravitation of the moon on -their fragile slightness. Cavor confirms me upon all these points. He -calls them “animals,” though of course they fall under no division of -the classification of earthly creatures, and he points out “the insect -type of anatomy had, fortunately for men, never exceeded a relatively -very small size on earth.” The largest terrestrial insects, living or -extinct, do not, as a matter of fact, measure six inches in length; -“but here, against the lesser gravitation of the moon, a creature -certainly as much an insect as vertebrate seems to have been able to -attain to human and ultra-human dimensions.” - -He does not mention the ant, but throughout his allusions the ant is -continually being brought before my mind, in its sleepless activity, in -its intelligence and social organisation, in its structure, and more -particularly in the fact that it displays, in addition to the two -forms, the male and the female form, that almost all other animals -possess, a number of other sexless creatures, workers, soldiers, and -the like, differing from one another in structure, character, power, -and use, and yet all members of the same species. For these Selenites, -also, have a great variety of forms. Of course, they are not only -colossally greater in size than ants, but also, in Cavor’s opinion at -least, in intelligence, morality, and social wisdom are they colossally -greater than men. And instead of the four or five different forms of -ant that are found, there are almost innumerably different forms of -Selenite. I had endeavoured to indicate the very considerable -difference observable in such Selenites of the outer crust as I -happened to encounter; the differences in size and proportions were -certainly as wide as the differences between the most widely separated -races of men. But such differences as I saw fade absolutely to nothing -in comparison with the huge distinctions of which Cavor tells. It would -seem the exterior Selenites I saw were, indeed, mostly engaged in -kindred occupations—mooncalf herds, butchers, fleshers, and the like. -But within the moon, practically unsuspected by me, there are, it -seems, a number of other sorts of Selenite, differing in size, -differing in the relative size of part to part, differing in power and -appearance, and yet not different species of creatures, but only -different forms of one species, and retaining through all their -variations a certain common likeness that marks their specific unity. -The moon is, indeed, a sort of vast ant-hill, only, instead of there -being only four or five sorts of ant, there are many hundred different -sorts of Selenite, and almost every gradation between one sort and -another. - -It would seem the discovery came upon Cavor very speedily. I infer -rather than learn from his narrative that he was captured by the -mooncalf herds under the direction of these other Selenites who “have -larger brain cases (heads?) and very much shorter legs.” Finding he -would not walk even under the goad, they carried him into darkness, -crossed a narrow, plank-like bridge that may have been the identical -bridge I had refused, and put him down in something that must have -seemed at first to be some sort of lift. This was the balloon—it had -certainly been absolutely invisible to us in the darkness—and what had -seemed to me a mere plank-walking into the void was really, no doubt, -the passage of the gangway. In this he descended towards constantly -more luminous caverns of the moon. At first they descended in -silence—save for the twitterings of the Selenites—and then into a stir -of windy movement. In a little while the profound blackness had made -his eyes so sensitive that he began to see more and more of the things -about him, and at last the vague took shape. - -“Conceive an enormous cylindrical space,” says Cavor, in his seventh -message, “a quarter of a mile across, perhaps; very dimly lit at first -and then brighter, with big platforms twisting down its sides in a -spiral that vanishes at last below in a blue profundity; and lit even -more brightly—one could not tell how or why. Think of the well of the -very largest spiral staircase or lift-shaft that you have ever looked -down, and magnify that by a hundred. Imagine it at twilight seen -through blue glass. Imagine yourself looking down that; only imagine -also that you feel extraordinarily light, and have got rid of any giddy -feeling you might have on earth, and you will have the first conditions -of my impression. Round this enormous shaft imagine a broad gallery -running in a much steeper spiral than would be credible on earth, and -forming a steep road protected from the gulf only by a little parapet -that vanishes at last in perspective a couple of miles below. - -“Looking up, I saw the very fellow of the downward vision; it had, of -course, the effect of looking into a very steep cone. A wind was -blowing down the shaft, and far above I fancy I heard, growing fainter -and fainter, the bellowing of the mooncalves that were being driven -down again from their evening pasturage on the exterior. And up and -down the spiral galleries were scattered numerous moon people, pallid, -faintly luminous beings, regarding our appearance or busied on unknown -errands. - -“Either I fancied it or a flake of snow came drifting down on the icy -breeze. And then, falling like a snowflake, a little figure, a little -man-insect, clinging to a parachute, drove down very swiftly towards -the central places of the moon. - -“The big-headed Selenite sitting beside me, seeing me move my head with -the gesture of one who saw, pointed with his trunk-like ‘hand’ and -indicated a sort of jetty coming into sight very far below: a little -landing-stage, as it were, hanging into the void. As it swept up -towards us our pace diminished very rapidly, and in a few moments, as -it seemed, we were abreast of it, and at rest. A mooring-rope was flung -and grasped, and I found myself pulled down to a level with a great -crowd of Selenites, who jostled to see me. - -“It was an incredible crowd. Suddenly and violently there was forced -upon my attention the vast amount of difference there is amongst these -beings of the moon. - -“Indeed, there seemed not two alike in all that jostling multitude. -They differed in shape, they differed in size, they rang all the -horrible changes on the theme of Selenite form! Some bulged and -overhung, some ran about among the feet of their fellows. All of them -had a grotesque and disquieting suggestion of an insect that has -somehow contrived to mock humanity; but all seemed to present an -incredible exaggeration of some particular feature: one had a vast -right fore-limb, an enormous antennal arm, as it were; one seemed all -leg, poised, as it were, on stilts; another protruded the edge of his -face mask into a nose-like organ that made him startlingly human until -one saw his expressionless gaping mouth. The strange and (except for -the want of mandibles and palps) most insect-like head of the -mooncalf-minders underwent, indeed, the most incredible -transformations: here it was broad and low, here high and narrow; here -its leathery brow was drawn out into horns and strange features; here -it was whiskered and divided, and there with a grotesquely human -profile. One distortion was particularly conspicuous. There were -several brain cases distended like bladders to a huge size, with the -face mask reduced to quite small proportions. There were several -amazing forms, with heads reduced to microscopic proportions and blobby -bodies; and fantastic, flimsy things that existed, it would seem, only -as a basis for vast, trumpet-like protrusions of the lower part of the -mask. And oddest of all, as it seemed to me for the moment, two or -three of these weird inhabitants of a subterranean world, a world -sheltered by innumerable miles of rock from sun or rain, _carried -umbrellas_ in their tentaculate hands—real terrestrial looking -umbrellas! And then I thought of the parachutist I had watched descend. - -“These moon people behaved exactly as a human crowd might have done in -similar circumstances: they jostled and thrust one another, they shoved -one another aside, they even clambered upon one another to get a -glimpse of me. Every moment they increased in numbers, and pressed more -urgently upon the discs of my ushers”—Cavor does not explain what he -means by this—“every moment fresh shapes emerged from the shadows and -forced themselves upon my astounded attention. And presently I was -signed and helped into a sort of litter, and lifted up on the shoulders -of strong-armed bearers, and so borne through the twilight over this -seething multitude towards the apartments that were provided for me in -the moon. All about me were eyes, faces, masks, a leathery noise like -the rustling of beetle wings, and a great bleating and cricket-like -twittering of Selenite voices.” - -We gather he was taken to a “hexagonal apartment,” and there for a -space he was confined. Afterwards he was given a much more considerable -liberty; indeed, almost as much freedom as one has in a civilised town -on earth. And it would appear that the mysterious being who is the -ruler and master of the moon appointed two Selenites “with large heads” -to guard and study him, and to establish whatever mental communications -were possible with him. And, amazing and incredible as it may seem, -these two creatures, these fantastic men insects, these beings of other -world, were presently communicating with Cavor by means of terrestrial -speech. - -Cavor speaks of them as Phi-oo and Tsi-puff. Phi-oo, he says, was about -5 feet high; he had small slender legs about 18 inches long, and slight -feet of the common lunar pattern. On these balanced a little body, -throbbing with the pulsations of his heart. He had long, soft, -many-jointed arms ending in a tentacled grip, and his neck was -many-jointed in the usual way, but exceptionally short and thick. His -head, says Cavor—apparently alluding to some previous description that -has gone astray in space—“is of the common lunar type, but strangely -modified. The mouth has the usual expressionless gape, but it is -unusually small and pointing downward, and the mask is reduced to the -size of a large flat nose-flap. On either side are the little eyes. - -“The rest of the head is distended into a huge globe and the chitinous -leathery cuticle of the mooncalf herds thins out to a mere membrane, -through which the pulsating brain movements are distinctly visible. He -is a creature, indeed, with a tremendously hypertrophied brain, and -with the rest of his organism both relatively and absolutely dwarfed.” - -In another passage Cavor compares the back view of him to Atlas -supporting the world. Tsi-puff it seems was a very similar insect, but -his “face” was drawn out to a considerable length, and the brain -hypertrophy being in different regions, his head was not round but -pear-shaped, with the stalk downward. There were also litter-carriers, -lopsided beings, with enormous shoulders, very spidery ushers, and a -squat foot attendant in Cavor’s retinue. - -The manner in which Phi-oo and Tsi-puff attacked the problem of speech -was fairly obvious. They came into this “hexagonal cell” in which Cavor -was confined, and began imitating every sound he made, beginning with a -cough. He seems to have grasped their intention with great quickness, -and to have begun repeating words to them and pointing to indicate the -application. The procedure was probably always the same. Phi-oo would -attend to Cavor for a space, then point also and say the word he had -heard. - -The first word he mastered was “man,” and the second “Mooney”—which -Cavor on the spur of the moment seems to have used instead of -“Selenite” for the moon race. As soon as Phi-oo was assured of the -meaning of a word he repeated it to Tsi-puff, who remembered it -infallibly. They mastered over one hundred English nouns at their first -session. - -Subsequently it seems they brought an artist with them to assist the -work of explanation with sketches and diagrams—Cavor’s drawings being -rather crude. “He was,” says Cavor, “a being with an active arm and an -arresting eye,” and he seemed to draw with incredible swiftness. - -The eleventh message is undoubtedly only a fragment of a longer -communication. After some broken sentences, the record of which is -unintelligible, it goes on:— - -“But it will interest only linguists, and delay me too long, to give -the details of the series of intent parleys of which these were the -beginning, and, indeed, I very much doubt if I could give in anything -like the proper order all the twistings and turnings that we made in -our pursuit of mutual comprehension. Verbs were soon plain sailing—at -least, such active verbs as I could express by drawings; some -adjectives were easy, but when it came to abstract nouns, to -prepositions, and the sort of hackneyed figures of speech, by means of -which so much is expressed on earth, it was like diving in -cork-jackets. Indeed, these difficulties were insurmountable until to -the sixth lesson came a fourth assistant, a being with a huge -football-shaped head, whose _forte_ was clearly the pursuit of -intricate analogy. He entered in a preoccupied manner, stumbling -against a stool, and the difficulties that arose had to be presented to -him with a certain amount of clamour and hitting and pricking before -they reached his apprehension. But once he was involved his penetration -was amazing. Whenever there came a need of thinking beyond Phi-oo’s by -no means limited scope, this prolate-headed person was in request, but -he invariably told the conclusion to Tsi-puff, in order that it might -be remembered; Tsi-puff was ever the arsenal for facts. And so we -advanced again. - -“It seemed long and yet brief—a matter of days—before I was positively -talking with these insects of the moon. Of course, at first it was an -intercourse infinitely tedious and exasperating, but imperceptibly it -has grown to comprehension. And my patience has grown to meet its -limitations, Phi-oo it is who does all the talking. He does it with a -vast amount of meditative provisional ‘M’m—M’m’ and has caught up one -or two phrases, If I may say,’ ‘If you understand,’ and beads all his -speech with them. - -“Thus he would discourse. Imagine him explaining his artist. - -“‘M’m—M’m—he—if I may say—draw. Eat little—drink little—draw. Love -draw. No other thing. Hate all who not draw like him. Angry. Hate all -who draw like him better. Hate most people. Hate all who not think all -world for to draw. Angry. M’m. All things mean nothing to him—only -draw. He like you ... if you understand.... New thing to draw. -Ugly—striking. Eh? - -“‘He’—turning to Tsi-puff—‘love remember words. Remember wonderful more -than any. Think no, draw no—remember. Say’—here he referred to his -gifted assistant for a word—‘histories—all things. He hear once—say -ever.’ - -“It is more wonderful to me than I dreamt that anything ever could be -again, to hear, in this perpetual obscurity, these extraordinary -creatures—for even familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect of -their appearance—continually piping a nearer approach to coherent -earthly speech—asking questions, giving answers. I feel that I am -casting back to the fable-hearing period of childhood again, when the -ant and the grasshopper talked together and the bee judged between -them...” - -And while these linguistic exercises were going on Cavor seems to have -experienced a considerable relaxation of his confinement. “The first -dread and distrust our unfortunate conflict aroused is being,” he said, -“continually effaced by the deliberate rationality of all I do.... I am -now able to come and go as I please, or I am restricted only for my own -good. So it is I have been able to get at this apparatus, and, assisted -by a happy find among the material that is littered in this enormous -store-cave, I have contrived to despatch these messages. So far not the -slightest attempt has been made to interfere with me in this, though I -have made it quite clear to Phi-oo that I am signalling to the earth. - -“‘You talk to other?’ he asked, watching me. - -“‘Others,’ said I. - -“‘Others,’ he said. ‘Oh yes, Men?’ - -“And I went on transmitting.” - -Cavor was continually making corrections in his previous accounts of -the Selenites as fresh facts flowed upon him to modify his conclusions, -and accordingly one gives the quotations that follow with a certain -amount of reservation. They are quoted from the ninth, thirteenth, and -sixteenth messages, and, altogether vague and fragmentary as they are, -they probably give as complete a picture of the social life of this -strange community as mankind can now hope to have for many generations. - -“In the moon,” says Cavor, “every citizen knows his place. He is born -to that place, and the elaborate discipline of training and education -and surgery he undergoes fits him at last so completely to it that he -has neither ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it. ‘Why should -he?’ Phi-oo would ask. If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a -mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. -They check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage -his mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill. His brain -grows, or at least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and -the rest of him only so much as is necessary to sustain this essential -part of him. At last, save for rest and food, his one delight lies in -the exercise and display of his faculty, his one interest in its -application, his sole society with other specialists in his own line. -His brain grows continually larger, at least so far as the portions -engaging in mathematics are concerned; they bulge ever larger and seem -to suck all life and vigour from the rest of his frame. His limbs -shrivel, his heart and digestive organs diminish, his insect face is -hidden under its bulging contours. His voice becomes a mere -stridulation for the stating of formulæ; he seems deaf to all but -properly enunciated problems. The faculty of laughter, save for the -sudden discovery of some paradox, is lost to him; his deepest emotion -is the evolution of a novel computation. And so he attains his end. - -“Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a minder of mooncalves is from -his earliest years induced to think and live mooncalf, to find his -pleasure in mooncalf lore, his exercise in their tending and pursuit. -He is trained to become wiry and active, his eye is indurated to the -tight wrappings, the angular contours that constitute a ‘smart -mooncalfishness.’ He takes at last no interest in the deeper part of -the moon; he regards all Selenites not equally versed in mooncalves -with indifference, derision, or hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf -pastures, and his dialect an accomplished mooncalf technique. So also -he loves his work, and discharges in perfect happiness the duty that -justifies his being. And so it is with all sorts and conditions of -Selenites—each is a perfect unit in a world machine.... - -“These beings with big heads, on whom the intellectual labours fall, -form a sort of aristocracy in this strange society, and at the head of -them, quintessential of the moon, is that marvellous gigantic ganglion -the Grand Lunar, into whose presence I am finally to come. The -unlimited development of the minds of the intellectual class is -rendered possible by the absence of any bony skull in the lunar -anatomy, that strange box of bone that clamps about the developing -brain of man, imperiously insisting ‘thus far and no farther’ to all -his possibilities. They fall into three main classes differing greatly -in influence and respect. There are administrators, of whom Phi-oo is -one, Selenites of considerable initiative and versatility, responsible -each for a certain cubic content of the moon’s bulk; the experts like -the football-headed thinker, who are trained to perform certain special -operations; and the erudite, who are the repositories of all knowledge. -To the latter class belongs Tsi-puff, the first lunar professor of -terrestrial languages. With regard to these latter, it is a curious -little thing to note that the unlimited growth of the lunar brain has -rendered unnecessary the invention of all those mechanical aids to -brain work which have distinguished the career of man. There are no -books, no records of any sort, no libraries or inscriptions. All -knowledge is stored in distended brains much as the honey-ants of Texas -store honey in their distended abdomens. The lunar Somerset House and -the lunar British Museum Library are collections of living brains... - -“The less specialised administrators, I note, do for the most part take -a very lively interest in me whenever they encounter me. They will come -out of the way and stare at me and ask questions to which Phi-oo will -reply. I see them going hither and thither with a retinue of bearers, -attendants, shouters, parachute-carriers, and so forth—queer groups to -see. The experts for the most part ignore me completely, even as they -ignore each other, or notice me only to begin a clamorous exhibition of -their distinctive skill. The erudite for the most part are rapt in an -impervious and apoplectic complacency, from which only a denial of -their erudition can rouse them. Usually they are led about by little -watchers and attendants, and often there are small and active-looking -creatures, small females usually, that I am inclined to think are a -sort of wife to them; but some of the profounder scholars are -altogether too great for locomotion, and are carried from place to -place in a sort of sedan tub, wabbling jellies of knowledge that enlist -my respectful astonishment. I have just passed one in coming to this -place where I am permitted to amuse myself with these electrical toys, -a vast, shaven, shaky head, bald and thin-skinned, carried on his -grotesque stretcher. In front and behind came his bearers, and curious, -almost trumpet-faced, news disseminators shrieked his fame. - -“I have already mentioned the retinues that accompany most of the -intellectuals: ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles and -muscles, as it were, to replace the abortive physical powers of these -hypertrophied minds. Porters almost invariably accompany them. There -are also extremely swift messengers with spider-like legs and ‘hands’ -for grasping parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs that could -well nigh wake the dead. Apart from their controlling intelligence -these subordinates are as inert and helpless as umbrellas in a stand. -They exist only in relation to the orders they have to obey, the duties -they have to perform. - -“The bulk of these insects, however, who go to and fro upon the spiral -ways, who fill the ascending balloons and drop past me clinging to -flimsy parachutes are, I gather, of the operative class. ‘Machine -hands,’ indeed, some of these are in actual nature—it is no figure of -speech, the single tentacle of the mooncalf herd is profoundly modified -for clawing, lifting, guiding, the rest of them no more than necessary -subordinate appendages to these important parts. Some, who I suppose -deal with bell-striking mechanisms, have enormously developed auditory -organs; some whose work lies in delicate chemical operations project a -vast olfactory organ; others again have flat feet for treadles with -anchylosed joints; and others—who I have been told are -glassblowers—seem mere lung-bellows. But every one of these common -Selenites I have seen at work is exquisitely adapted to the social need -it meets. Fine work is done by fined-down workers, amazingly dwarfed -and neat. Some I could hold on the palm of my hand. There is even a -sort of turnspit Selenite, very common, whose duty and only delight it -is to apply the motive power for various small appliances. And to rule -over these things and order any erring tendency there might be in some -aberrant natures are the most muscular beings I have seen in the moon, -a sort of lunar police, who must have been trained from their earliest -years to give a perfect respect and obedience to the swollen heads. - -“The making of these various sorts of operative must be a very curious -and interesting process. I am very much in the dark about it, but quite -recently I came upon a number of young Selenites confined in jars from -which only the fore-limbs protruded, who were being compressed to -become machine-minders of a special sort. The extended ‘hand’ in this -highly developed system of technical education is stimulated by -irritants and nourished by injection, while the rest of the body is -starved. Phi-oo, unless I misunderstood him, explained that in the -earlier stages these queer little creatures are apt to display signs of -suffering in their various cramped situations, but they easily become -indurated to their lot; and he took me on to where a number of -flexible-minded messengers were being drawn out and broken in. It is -quite unreasonable, I know, but such glimpses of the educational -methods of these beings affect me disagreeably. I hope, however, that -may pass off, and I may be able to see more of this aspect of their -wonderful social order. That wretched-looking hand-tentacle sticking -out of its jar seemed to have a sort of limp appeal for lost -possibilities; it haunts me still, although, of course it is really in -the end a far more humane proceeding than our earthly method of leaving -children to grow into human beings, and then making machines of them. - -“Quite recently, too—I think it was on the eleventh or twelfth visit I -made to this apparatus—I had a curious light upon the lives of these -operatives. I was being guided through a short cut hither, instead of -going down the spiral, and by the quays to the Central Sea. From the -devious windings of a long, dark gallery, we emerged into a vast, low -cavern, pervaded by an earthy smell, and as things go in this darkness, -rather brightly lit. The light came from a tumultuous growth of livid -fungoid shapes—some indeed singularly like our terrestrial mushrooms, -but standing as high or higher than a man. - -“‘Mooneys eat these?’ said I to Phi-oo. - -“‘Yes, food.’ - -“‘Goodness me!’ I cried; ‘what’s that?’ - -“My eye had just caught the figure of an exceptionally big and ungainly -Selenite lying motionless among the stems, face downward. We stopped. - -“‘Dead?’ I asked. (For as yet I have seen no dead in the moon, and I -have grown curious.) - -“‘_No!_’ exclaimed Phi-oo. ‘Him—worker—no work to do. Get little drink -then—make sleep—till we him want. What good him wake, eh? No want him -walking about.’ - -“‘There’s another!’ cried I. - -“And indeed all that huge extent of mushroom ground was, I found, -peppered with these prostrate figures sleeping under an opiate until -the moon had need of them. There were scores of them of all sorts, and -we were able to turn over some of them, and examine them more precisely -than I had been able to do previously. They breathed noisily at my -doing so, but did not wake. One, I remember very distinctly: he left a -strong impression, I think, because some trick of the light and of his -attitude was strongly suggestive of a drawn-up human figure. His -fore-limbs were long, delicate tentacles—he was some kind of refined -manipulator—and the pose of his slumber suggested a submissive -suffering. No doubt it was a mistake for me to interpret his expression -in that way, but I did. And as Phi-oo rolled him over into the darkness -among the livid fleshiness again I felt a distinctly unpleasant -sensation, although as he rolled the insect in him was confessed. - -“It simply illustrates the unthinking way in which one acquires habits -of feeling. To drug the worker one does not want and toss him aside is -surely far better than to expel him from his factory to wander starving -in the streets. In every complicated social community there is -necessarily a certain intermittency of employment for all specialised -labour, and in this way the trouble of an ‘unemployed’ problem is -altogether anticipated. And yet, so unreasonable are even -scientifically trained minds, I still do not like the memory of those -prostrate forms amidst those quiet, luminous arcades of fleshy growth, -and I avoid that short cut in spite of the inconveniences of the -longer, more noisy, and more crowded alternative. - -“My alternative route takes me round by a huge, shadowy cavern, very -crowded and clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of the -hexagonal openings of a sort of honeycomb wall, or parading a large -open space behind, or selecting the toys and amulets made to please -them by the dainty-tentacled jewellers who work in kennels below, the -mothers of the moon world—the queen bees, as it were, of the hive. They -are noble-looking beings, fantastically and sometimes quite beautifully -adorned, with a proud carriage, and, save for their mouths, almost -microscopic heads. - -“Of the condition of the moon sexes, marrying and giving in marriage, -and of birth and so forth among the Selenites, I have as yet been able -to learn very little. With the steady progress of Phi-oo in English, -however, my ignorance will no doubt as steadily disappear. I am of -opinion that, as with the ants and bees, there is a large majority of -the members in this community of the neuter sex. Of course on earth in -our cities there are now many who never live that life of parentage -which is the natural life of man. Here, as with the ants, this thing -has become a normal condition of the race, and the whole of such -replacement as is necessary falls upon this special and by no means -numerous class of matrons, the mothers of the moon-world, large and -stately beings beautifully fitted to bear the larval Selenite. Unless I -misunderstand an explanation of Phi-oo’s, they are absolutely incapable -of cherishing the young they bring into the moon; periods of foolish -indulgence alternate with moods of aggressive violence, and as soon as -possible the little creatures, who are quite soft and flabby and pale -coloured, are transferred to the charge of celibate females, women -‘workers’ as it were, who in some cases possess brains of almost -masculine dimensions.” - -Just at this point, unhappily, this message broke off. Fragmentary and -tantalising as the matter constituting this chapter is, it does -nevertheless give a vague, broad impression of an altogether strange -and wonderful world—a world with which our own may have to reckon we -know not how speedily. This intermittent trickle of messages, this -whispering of a record needle in the stillness of the mountain slopes, -is the first warning of such a change in human conditions as mankind -has scarcely imagined heretofore. In that satellite of ours there are -new elements, new appliances, traditions, an overwhelming avalanche of -new ideas, a strange race with whom we must inevitably struggle for -mastery—gold as common as iron or wood... - - - - -XXV. -The Grand Lunar - - -The penultimate message describes, with occasionally elaborate detail, -the encounter between Cavor and the Grand Lunar, who is the ruler or -master of the moon. Cavor seems to have sent most of it without -interference, but to have been interrupted in the concluding portion. -The second came after an interval of a week. - -The first message begins: “At last I am able to resume this—” it then -becomes illegible for a space, and after a time resumed in -mid-sentence. - -The missing words of the following sentence are probably “the crowd.” -There follows quite clearly: “grew ever denser as we drew near the -palace of the Grand Lunar—if I may call a series of excavations a -palace. Everywhere faces stared at me—blank, chitinous gapes and masks, -eyes peering over tremendous olfactory developments, eyes beneath -monstrous forehead plates; and undergrowth of smaller creatures dodged -and yelped, and helmet faces poised on sinuous, long-jointed necks -appeared craning over shoulders and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome -space about me marched a cordon of stolid, scuttle-headed guards, who -had joined us on our leaving the boat in which we had come along the -channels of the Central Sea. The quick-eyed artist with the little -brain joined us also, and a thick bunch of lean porter-insects swayed -and struggled under the multitude of conveniences that were considered -essential to my state. I was carried in a litter during the final stage -of our journey. This litter was made of some very ductile metal that -looked dark to me, meshed and woven, and with bars of paler metal, and -about me as I advanced there grouped itself a long and complicated -procession. - -“In front, after the manner of heralds, marched four trumpet-faced -creatures making a devastating bray; and then came squat, -resolute-moving ushers before and behind, and on either hand a galaxy -of learned heads, a sort of animated encyclopedia, who were, Phi-oo -explained, to stand about the Grand Lunar for purposes of reference. -(Not a thing in lunar science, not a point of view or method of -thinking, that these wonderful beings did not carry in their heads!) -Followed guards and porters, and then Phi-oo’s shivering brain borne -also on a litter. Then came Tsi-puff in a slightly less important -litter; then myself on a litter of greater elegance than any other, and -surrounded by my food and drink attendants. More trumpeters came next, -splitting the ear with vehement outcries, and then several big brains, -special correspondents one might well call them, or historiographers, -charged with the task of observing and remembering every detail of this -epoch-making interview. A company of attendants, bearing and dragging -banners and masses of scented fungus and curious symbols, vanished in -the darkness behind. The way was lined by ushers and officers in -caparisons that gleamed like steel, and beyond their line, so far as my -eyes could pierce the gloom, the heads of that enormous crowd extended. - -“I will own that I am still by no means indurated to the peculiar -effect of the Selenite appearance, and to find myself, as it were, -adrift on this broad sea of excited entomology was by no means -agreeable. Just for a space I had something very like what I should -imagine people mean when they speak of the ‘horrors.’ It had come to me -before in these lunar caverns, when on occasion I have found myself -weaponless and with an undefended back, amidst a crowd of these -Selenites, but never quite so vividly. It is, of course, as absolutely -irrational a feeling as one could well have, and I hope gradually to -subdue it. But just for a moment, as I swept forward into the welter of -the vast crowd, it was only by gripping my litter tightly and summoning -all my will-power that I succeeded in avoiding an outcry or some such -manifestation. It lasted perhaps three minutes; then I had myself in -hand again. - -“We ascended the spiral of a vertical way for some time, and then -passed through a series of huge halls dome-roofed and elaborately -decorated. The approach to the Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to -give one a vivid impression of his greatness. Each cavern one entered -seemed greater and more boldly arched than its predecessor. This effect -of progressive size was enhanced by a thin haze of faintly -phosphorescent blue incense that thickened as one advanced, and robbed -even the nearer figures of clearness. I seemed to advance continually -to something larger, dimmer, and less material. - -“I must confess that all this multitude made me feel extremely shabby -and unworthy. I was unshaven and unkempt; I had brought no razor; I had -a coarse beard over my mouth. On earth I have always been inclined to -despise any attention to my person beyond a proper care for -cleanliness; but under the exceptional circumstances in which I found -myself, representing, as I did, my planet and my kind, and depending -very largely upon the attractiveness of my appearance for a proper -reception, I could have given much for something a little more artistic -and dignified than the husks I wore. I had been so serene in the belief -that the moon was uninhabited as to overlook such precautions -altogether. As it was I was dressed in a flannel jacket, -knickerbockers, and golfing stockings, stained with every sort of dirt -the moon offered, slippers (of which the left heel was wanting), and a -blanket, through a hole in which I thrust my head. (These clothes, -indeed, I still wear.) Sharp bristles are anything but an improvement -to my cast of features, and there was an unmended tear at the knee of -my knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as I squatted in my litter; -my right stocking, too, persisted in getting about my ankle. I am fully -alive to the injustice my appearance did humanity, and if by any -expedient I could have improvised something a little out of the way and -imposing I would have done so. But I could hit upon nothing. I did what -I could with my blanket—folding it somewhat after the fashion of a -toga, and for the rest I sat as upright as the swaying of my litter -permitted. - -“Imagine the largest hall you have ever been in, imperfectly lit with -blue light and obscured by a grey-blue fog, surging with metallic or -livid-grey creatures of such a mad diversity as I have hinted. Imagine -this hall to end in an open archway beyond which is a still larger -hall, and beyond this yet another and still larger one, and so on. At -the end of the vista, dimly seen, a flight of steps, like the steps of -Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend out of sight. Higher and higher these steps -appear to go as one draws nearer their base. But at last I came under a -huge archway and beheld the summit of these steps, and upon it the -Grand Lunar exalted on his throne. - -“He was seated in what was relatively a blaze of incandescent blue. -This, and the darkness about him gave him an effect of floating in a -blue-black void. He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud at first, -brooding on his sombre throne; his brain case must have measured many -yards in diameter. For some reason that I cannot fathom a number of -blue search-lights radiated from behind the throne on which he sat, and -immediately encircling him was a halo. About him, and little and -indistinct in this glow, a number of body-servants sustained and -supported him, and overshadowed and standing in a huge semicircle -beneath him were his intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers and -computators and searchers and servants, and all the distinguished -insects of the court of the moon. Still lower stood ushers and -messengers, and then all down the countless steps of the throne were -guards, and at the base, enormous, various, indistinct, vanishing at -last into an absolute black, a vast swaying multitude of the minor -dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a perpetual scraping whisper -on the rocky floor, as their limbs moved with a rustling murmur. - -“As I entered the penultimate hall the music rose and expanded into an -imperial magnificence of sound, and the shrieks of the news-bearers -died away.... - -“I entered the last and greatest hall.... - -“My procession opened out like a fan. My ushers and guards went right -and left, and the three litters bearing myself and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff -marched across a shiny darkness of floor to the foot of the giant -stairs. Then began a vast throbbing hum, that mingled with the music. -The two Selenites dismounted, but I was bidden remain seated—I imagine -as a special honour. The music ceased, but not that humming, and by a -simultaneous movement of ten thousand respectful heads my attention was -directed to the enhaloed supreme intelligence that hovered above me. - -“At first as I peered into the radiating glow this quintessential brain -looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim, -undulating ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within. Then beneath -its enormity and just above the edge of the throne one saw with a start -minute elfin eyes peering out of the glow. No face, but eyes, as if -they peered through holes. At first I could see no more than these two -staring little eyes, and then below I distinguished the little dwarfed -body and its insect-jointed limbs shrivelled and white. The eyes stared -down at me with a strange intensity, and the lower part of the swollen -globe was wrinkled. Ineffectual-looking little hand-tentacles steadied -this shape on the throne.... - -“It was great. It was pitiful. One forgot the hall and the crowd. - -“I ascended the staircase by jerks. It seemed to me that this darkly -glowing brain case above us spread over me, and took more and more of -the whole effect into itself as I drew nearer. The tiers of attendants -and helpers grouped about their master seemed to dwindle and fade into -the night. I saw that shadowy attendants were busy spraying that great -brain with a cooling spray, and patting and sustaining it. For my own -part, I sat gripping my swaying litter and staring at the Grand Lunar, -unable to turn my gaze aside. And at last, as I reached a little -landing that was separated only by ten steps or so from the supreme -seat, the woven splendour of the music reached a climax and ceased, and -I was left naked, as it were, in that vastness, beneath the still -scrutiny of the Grand Lunar’s eyes. - -“He was scrutinising the first man he had ever seen.... - -“My eyes dropped at last from his greatness to the ant figures in the -blue mist about him, and then down the steps to the massed Selenites, -still and expectant in their thousands, packed on the floor below. Once -again an unreasonable horror reached out towards me.... And passed. - -“After the pause came the salutation. I was assisted from my litter, -and stood awkwardly while a number of curious and no doubt deeply -symbolical gestures were vicariously performed for me by two slender -officials. The encyclopaedic galaxy of the learned that had accompanied -me to the entrance of the last hall appeared two steps above me and -left and right of me, in readiness for the Grand Lunar’s need, and -Phi-oo’s pale brain placed itself about half-way up to the throne in -such a position as to communicate easily between us without turning his -back on either the Grand Lunar or myself. Tsi-puff took up a position -behind him. Dexterous ushers sidled sideways towards me, keeping a full -face to the Presence. I seated myself Turkish fashion, and Phi-oo and -Tsi-puff also knelt down above me. There came a pause. The eyes of the -nearer court went from me to the Grand Lunar and came back to me, and a -hissing and piping of expectation passed across the hidden multitudes -below and ceased. - -“That humming ceased. - -“For the first and last time in my experience the moon was silent. - -“I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. The Grand Lunar was addressing -me. It was like the rubbing of a finger upon a pane of glass. - -“I watched him attentively for a time, and then glanced at the alert -Phi-oo. I felt amidst these slender beings ridiculously thick and -fleshy and solid; my head all jaw and black hair. My eyes went back to -the Grand Lunar. He had ceased; his attendants were busy, and his -shining superficies was glistening and running with cooling spray. - -“Phi-oo meditated through an interval. He consulted Tsi-puff. Then he -began piping his recognisable English—at first a little nervously, so -that he was not very clear. - -“‘M’m—the Grand Lunar—wished to say—wishes to say—he gathers you -are—m’m—men—that you are a man from the planet earth. He wishes to say -that he welcomes you—welcomes you—and wishes to learn—learn, if I may -use the word—the state of your world, and the reason why you came to -this.’ - -“He paused. I was about to reply when he resumed. He proceeded to -remarks of which the drift was not very clear, though I am inclined to -think they were intended to be complimentary. He told me that the earth -was to the moon what the sun is to the earth, and that the Selenites -desired very greatly to learn about the earth and men. He then told me -no doubt in compliment also, the relative magnitude and diameter of -earth and moon, and the perpetual wonder and speculation with which the -Selenites had regarded our planet. I meditated with downcast eyes, and -decided to reply that men too had wondered what might lie in the moon, -and had judged it dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had -seen that day. The Grand Lunar, in token of recognition, caused his -long blue rays to rotate in a very confusing manner, and all about the -great hall ran the pipings and whisperings and rustlings of the report -of what I had said. He then proceeded to put to Phi-oo a number of -inquiries which were easier to answer. - -“He understood, he explained, that we lived on the surface of the -earth, that our air and sea were outside the globe; the latter part, -indeed, he already knew from his astronomical specialists. He was very -anxious to have more detailed information of what he called this -extraordinary state of affairs, for from the solidity of the earth -there had always been a disposition to regard it as uninhabitable. He -endeavoured first to ascertain the extremes of temperature to which we -earth beings were exposed, and he was deeply interested by my -descriptive treatment of clouds and rain. His imagination was assisted -by the fact that the lunar atmosphere in the outer galleries of the -night side is not infrequently very foggy. He seemed inclined to marvel -that we did not find the sunlight too intense for our eyes, and was -interested in my attempt to explain that the sky was tempered to a -bluish colour through the refraction of the air, though I doubt if he -clearly understood that. I explained how the iris of the human eyes can -contract the pupil and save the delicate internal structure from the -excess of sunlight, and was allowed to approach within a few feet of -the Presence in order that this structure might be seen. This led to a -comparison of the lunar and terrestrial eyes. The former is not only -excessively sensitive to such light as men can see, but it can also -_see_ heat, and every difference in temperature within the moon renders -objects visible to it. - -“The iris was quite a new organ to the Grand Lunar. For a time he -amused himself by flashing his rays into my face and watching my pupils -contract. As a consequence, I was dazzled and blinded for some little -time.... - -“But in spite of that discomfort I found something reassuring by -insensible degrees in the rationality of this business of question and -answer. I could shut my eyes, think of my answer, and almost forget -that the the Grand Lunar has no face.... - -“When I had descended again to my proper place the Grand Lunar asked -how we sheltered ourselves from heat and storms, and I expounded to him -the arts of building and furnishing. Here we wandered into -misunderstandings and cross-purposes, due largely, I must admit, to the -looseness of my expressions. For a long time I had great difficulty in -making him understand the nature of a house. To him and his attendant -Selenites it seemed, no doubt, the most whimsical thing in the world -that men should build houses when they might descend into excavations, -and an additional complication was introduced by the attempt I made to -explain that men had originally begun their homes in caves, and that -they were now taking their railways and many establishments beneath the -surface. Here I think a desire for intellectual completeness betrayed -me. There was also a considerable tangle due to an equally unwise -attempt on my part to explain about mines. Dismissing this topic at -last in an incomplete state, the Grand Lunar inquired what we did with -the interior of our globe. - -“A tide of twittering and piping swept into the remotest corners of -that great assembly when it was at last made clear that we men know -absolutely nothing of the contents of the world upon which the -immemorial generations of our ancestors had been evolved. Three times -had I to repeat that of all the 4000 miles of distance between the -earth and its centre men knew only to the depth of a mile, and that -very vaguely. I understood the Grand Lunar to ask why had I come to the -moon seeing we had scarcely touched our own planet yet, but he did not -trouble me at that time to proceed to an explanation, being too anxious -to pursue the details of this mad inversion of all his ideas. - -“He reverted to the question of weather, and I tried to describe the -perpetually changing sky, and snow, and frost and hurricanes. ‘But when -the night comes,’ he asked, ‘is it not cold?’ - -“I told him it was colder than by day. - -“‘And does not your atmosphere freeze?’ - -“I told him not; that it was never cold enough for that, because our -nights were so short. - -“‘Not even liquefy?’ - -“I was about to say ‘No,’ but then it occurred to me that one part at -least of our atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does sometimes liquefy -and form dew, and sometimes freeze and form frost—a process perfectly -analogous to the freezing of all the external atmosphere of the moon -during its longer night. I made myself clear on this point, and from -that the Grand Lunar went on to speak with me of sleep. For the need of -sleep that comes so regularly every twenty-four hours to all things is -part also of our earthly inheritance. On the moon they rest only at -rare intervals, and after exceptional exertions. Then I tried to -describe to him the soft splendours of a summer night, and from that I -passed to a description of those animals that prowl by night and sleep -by day. I told him of lions and tigers, and here it seemed as though we -had come to a deadlock. For, save in their waters, there are no -creatures in the moon not absolutely domestic and subject to his will, -and so it has been for immemorial years. They have monstrous water -creatures, but no evil beasts, and the idea of anything strong and -large existing ‘outside’ in the night is very difficult for them....” - -[The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps -twenty words or more.] - -“He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange -superficiality and unreasonableness of (man) who lives on the mere -surface of a world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances -of space, who cannot even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon -his kind, and yet who dares to invade another planet. During this aside -I sat thinking, and then at his desire I told him of the different -sorts of men. He searched me with questions. ‘And for all sorts of work -you have the same sort of men. But who thinks? Who governs?’ - -“I gave him an outline of the democratic method. - -“When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then -requested me to repeat my explanation conceiving something had -miscarried. - -“‘Do they not do different things, then?’ said Phi-oo. - -“Some, I admitted, were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some -were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. ‘But _all_ rule,’ I said. - -“‘And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different -duties?’ - -“‘None that you can see,’ I said, ‘except perhaps, for clothes. Their -minds perhaps differ a little,’ I reflected. - -“‘Their minds must differ a great deal,’ said the Grand Lunar, ‘or they -would all want to do the same things.’ - -“In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his -preconceptions, I said that his surmise was right. ‘It was all hidden -in the brain,’ I said; but the difference was there. Perhaps if one -could see the minds and souls of men they would be as varied and -unequal as the Selenites. There were great men and small men, men who -could reach out far and wide, men who could go swiftly; noisy, -trumpet-minded men, and men who could remember without thinking....’” -[The record is indistinct for three words.] - -“He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statements. ‘But you -said all men rule?’ he pressed. - -“‘To a certain extent,’ I said, and made, I fear, a denser fog with my -explanation. - -“He reached out to a salient fact. ‘Do you mean,’ asked, ‘that there is -no Grand Earthly?’ - -“I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I -explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth -had usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large -and influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged, -the Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At -which the Grand Lunar was even more amazed. - -“‘But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?’ he asked; and I -explained to him the way we helped our limited [A word omitted here, -probably “brains.”] with libraries of books. I explained to him how our -science was growing by the united labours of innumerable little men, -and on that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered -much in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the -moon. Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites -grew and changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and -remained brutes—equipped. He said this...” [Here there is a short piece -of the record indistinct.] - -“He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours, -and I described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not -understand that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but -when he did he was clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing, -that the Selenites use years to count by, just as we do on earth, -though I can make nothing of their numeral system. That, however, does -not matter, because Phi-oo understands ours.) From that I went on to -tell him that mankind had dwelt in cities only for nine or ten thousand -years, and that we were still not united in one brotherhood, but under -many different forms of government. This astonished the Grand Lunar -very much, when it was made clear to him. At first he thought we -referred merely to administrative areas. - -“‘Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what order -will some day be,’ I said, and so I came to tell him....” [At this -point a length of record that probably represents thirty or forty words -is totally illegible.] - -“The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging -to the inconvenience of diverse tongues. ‘They want to communicate, and -yet not to communicate,’ he said, and then for a long time he -questioned me closely concerning war. - -“He was at first perplexed and incredulous. ‘You mean to say,’ he -asked, seeking confirmation, ‘that you run about over the surface of -your world—this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to -scrape—killing one another for beasts to eat?’ - -“I told him that was perfectly correct. - -“He asked for particulars to assist his imagination. - -“‘But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?’ he asked, -and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress -him almost as much as the killing. ‘Tell me more,’ said the Grand -Lunar; ‘make me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.’ - -“And so, for a space, though something loath, I told him the story of -earthly War. - -“I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and -ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an -idea of manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of -sieges and assaults, of starvation and hardship in trenches, and of -sentinels freezing in the snow. I told him of routs and surprises, and -desperate last stands and faint hopes, and the pitiless pursuit of -fugitives and the dead upon the field. I told, too, of the past, of -invasions and massacres, of the Huns and Tartars, and the wars of -Mahomet and the Caliphs, and of the Crusades. And as I went on, and -Phi-oo translated, the Selenites cooed and murmured in a steadily -intensified emotion. - -“I told them an ironclad could fire a shot of a ton twelve miles, and -go through 20 feet of iron—and how we could steer torpedoes under -water. I went on to describe a Maxim gun in action, and what I could -imagine of the Battle of Colenso. The Grand Lunar was so incredulous -that he interrupted the translation of what I had said in order to have -my verification of my account. They particularly doubted my description -of the men cheering and rejoicing as they went into battle. - -“‘But surely they do not like it!’ translated Phi-oo. - -“I assured them men of my race considered battle the most glorious -experience of life, at which the whole assembly was stricken with -amazement. - -“‘But what good is this war?’ asked the Grand Lunar, sticking to his -theme. - -“‘Oh! as for _good_!’ said I; ‘it thins the population!’ - -“‘But why should there be a need—?’ - -“There came a pause, the cooling sprays impinged upon his brow, and -then he spoke again.” - -At this point a series of undulations that have been apparent as a -perplexing complication as far back as Cavor’s description of the -silence that fell before the first speaking of the Grand Lunar become -confusingly predominant in the record. These undulations are evidently -the result of radiations proceeding from a lunar source, and their -persistent approximation to the alternating signals of Cavor is -curiously suggestive of some operator deliberately seeking to mix them -in with his message and render it illegible. At first they are small -and regular, so that with a little care and the loss of very few words -we have been able to disentangle Cavor’s message; then they become -broad and larger, then suddenly they are irregular, with an -irregularity that gives the effect at last of some one scribbling -through a line of writing. For a long time nothing can be made of this -madly zigzagging trace; then quite abruptly the interruption ceases, -leaves a few words clear, and then resumes and continues for the rest -of the message, completely obliterating whatever Cavor was attempting -to transmit. Why, if this is indeed a deliberate intervention, the -Selenites should have preferred to let Cavor go on transmitting his -message in happy ignorance of their obliteration of its record, when it -was clearly quite in their power and much more easy and convenient for -them to stop his proceedings at any time, is a problem to which I can -contribute nothing. The thing seems to have happened so, and that is -all I can say. This last rag of his description of the Grand Lunar -begins in mid-sentence. - - -“...interrogated me very closely upon my secret. I was able in a little -while to get to an understanding with them, and at last to elucidate -what has been a puzzle to me ever since I realised the vastness of -their science, namely, how it is they themselves have never discovered -Cavorite.’ I find they know of it as a theoretical substance, but they -have always regarded it as a practical impossibility, because for some -reason there is no helium in the moon, and helium...” - -Across the last letters of helium slashes the resumption of that -obliterating trace. Note that word “secret,” for on that, and that -alone, I base my interpretation of the message that follows, the last -message, as both Mr. Wendigee and myself now believe it to be, that he -is ever likely to send us. - - - - -XXVI. -The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth - - -On this unsatisfactory manner the penultimate message of Cavor dies -out. One seems to see him away there in the blue obscurity amidst his -apparatus intently signalling us to the last, all unaware of the -curtain of confusion that drops between us; all unaware, too, of the -final dangers that even then must have been creeping upon him. His -disastrous want of vulgar common sense had utterly betrayed him. He had -talked of war, he had talked of all the strength and irrational -violence of men, of their insatiable aggressions, their tireless -futility of conflict. He had filled the whole moon world with this -impression of our race, and then I think it is plain that he made the -most fatal admission that upon himself alone hung the possibility—at -least for a long time—of any further men reaching the moon. The line -the cold, inhuman reason of the moon would take seems plain enough to -me, and a suspicion of it, and then perhaps some sudden sharp -realisation of it, must have come to him. One imagines him about the -moon with the remorse of this fatal indiscretion growing in his mind. -During a certain time I am inclined to guess the Grand Lunar was -deliberating the new situation, and for all that time Cavor may have -gone as free as ever he had gone. But obstacles of some sort prevented -his getting to his electromagnetic apparatus again after that message I -have just given. For some days we received nothing. Perhaps he was -having fresh audiences, and trying to evade his previous admissions. -Who can hope to guess? - -And then suddenly, like a cry in the night, like a cry that is followed -by a stillness, came the last message. It is the briefest fragment, the -broken beginnings of two sentences. - -The first was: “I was mad to let the Grand Lunar know—” - -There was an interval of perhaps a minute. One imagines some -interruption from without. A departure from the instrument—a dreadful -hesitation among the looming masses of apparatus in that dim, blue-lit -cavern—a sudden rush back to it, full of a resolve that came too late. -Then, as if it were hastily transmitted came: “Cavorite made as -follows: take—” - -There followed one word, a quite unmeaning word as it stands: “uless.” - -And that is all. - -It may be he made a hasty attempt to spell “useless” when his fate was -close upon him. Whatever it was that was happening about that apparatus -we cannot tell. Whatever it was we shall never, I know, receive another -message from the moon. For my own part a vivid dream has come to my -help, and I see, almost as plainly as though I had seen it in actual -fact, a blue-lit shadowy dishevelled Cavor struggling in the grip of -these insect Selenites, struggling ever more desperately and hopelessly -as they press upon him, shouting, expostulating, perhaps even at last -fighting, and being forced backwards step by step out of all speech or -sign of his fellows, for evermore into the Unknown—into the dark, into -that silence that has no end.... - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1013 *** diff --git a/old/1013-h/1013-h.htm b/old/1013-h/1013-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 6fcfa98..0000000 --- a/old/1013-h/1013-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10391 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> -<title>The First Men In The Moon | Project Gutenberg</title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<style type="text/css"> - -body { margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - text-align: justify; } - -h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: -normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} - -h1 {font-size: 300%; - margin-top: 0.6em; - margin-bottom: 0.6em; - letter-spacing: 0.12em; - word-spacing: 0.2em; - text-indent: 0em;} -h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} -h4 {font-size: 120%;} -h5 {font-size: 110%;} - -.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} - -hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} - -p {text-indent: 1em; - margin-top: 0.25em; - margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} - -p.footnote {font-size: 90%; - text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; } - -sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } - -div.fig { display:block; - margin:0 auto; - text-align:center; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em;} - -a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} -a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} -a:hover {color:red} - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1013 ***</div> - -<div class="fig" style="width:75%;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> -</div> -<h1>The First Men In The Moon</h1> - -<h2 class="no-break">by H. G. Wells</h2> - -<hr /> - -<h2>Contents</h2> - -<table summary="" style=""> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap01">I. Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap02">II. The First Making of Cavorite</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap03">III. The Building of the sphere</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap04">IV. Inside the Sphere</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap05">V. The Journey to the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap06">VI. The Landing on the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap07">VII. Sunrise on the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap08">VIII. A Lunar Morning</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap09">IX. Prospecting Begins</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap10">X. Lost Men in the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap11">XI. The Mooncalf Pastures</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap12">XII. The Selenite’s Face</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap13">XIII. Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap14">XIV. Experiments in intercourse</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap15">XV. The Giddy Bridge</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap16">XVI. Points of View</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap17">XVII. The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap18">XVIII. In the Sunlight</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap19">XIX. Mr. Bedford Alone</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap20">XX. Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap21">XXI. Mr. Bedford at Littlestone</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap22">XXII. The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap23">XXIII. An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap24">XXIV. The Natural History of the Selenites</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap25">XXV. The Grand Lunar</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap26">XXVI. The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth</a></td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I.<br /> -Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne</h2> - -<p> -As I sit down to write here amidst the shadows of vine-leaves under the blue -sky of southern Italy, it comes to me with a certain quality of astonishment -that my participation in these amazing adventures of Mr. Cavor was, after all, -the outcome of the purest accident. It might have been any one. I fell into -these things at a time when I thought myself removed from the slightest -possibility of disturbing experiences. I had gone to Lympne because I had -imagined it the most uneventful place in the world. “Here, at any -rate,” said I, “I shall find peace and a chance to work!” -</p> - -<p> -And this book is the sequel. So utterly at variance is destiny with all the -little plans of men. I may perhaps mention here that very recently I had come -an ugly cropper in certain business enterprises. Sitting now surrounded by all -the circumstances of wealth, there is a luxury in admitting my extremity. I can -admit, even, that to a certain extent my disasters were conceivably of my own -making. It may be there are directions in which I have some capacity, but the -conduct of business operations is not among these. But in those days I was -young, and my youth among other objectionable forms took that of a pride in my -capacity for affairs. I am young still in years, but the things that have -happened to me have rubbed something of the youth from my mind. Whether they -have brought any wisdom to light below it is a more doubtful matter. -</p> - -<p> -It is scarcely necessary to go into the details of the speculations that landed -me at Lympne, in Kent. Nowadays even about business transactions there is a -strong spice of adventure. I took risks. In these things there is invariably a -certain amount of give and take, and it fell to me finally to do the giving -reluctantly enough. Even when I had got out of everything, one cantankerous -creditor saw fit to be malignant. Perhaps you have met that flaming sense of -outraged virtue, or perhaps you have only felt it. He ran me hard. It seemed to -me, at last, that there was nothing for it but to write a play, unless I wanted -to drudge for my living as a clerk. I have a certain imagination, and luxurious -tastes, and I meant to make a vigorous fight for it before that fate overtook -me. In addition to my belief in my powers as a business man, I had always in -those days had an idea that I was equal to writing a very good play. It is not, -I believe, a very uncommon persuasion. I knew there is nothing a man can do -outside legitimate business transactions that has such opulent possibilities, -and very probably that biased my opinion. I had, indeed, got into the habit of -regarding this unwritten drama as a convenient little reserve put by for a -rainy day. That rainy day had come, and I set to work. -</p> - -<p> -I soon discovered that writing a play was a longer business than I had -supposed; at first I had reckoned ten days for it, and it was to have a -<i>pied-à-terre</i> while it was in hand that I came to Lympne. I reckoned -myself lucky in getting that little bungalow. I got it on a three years’ -agreement. I put in a few sticks of furniture, and while the play was in hand I -did my own cooking. My cooking would have shocked Mrs. Bond. And yet, you know, -it had flavour. I had a coffee-pot, a sauce-pan for eggs, and one for potatoes, -and a frying-pan for sausages and bacon—such was the simple apparatus of -my comfort. One cannot always be magnificent, but simplicity is always a -possible alternative. For the rest I laid in an eighteen-gallon cask of beer on -credit, and a trustful baker came each day. It was not, perhaps, in the style -of Sybaris, but I have had worse times. I was a little sorry for the baker, who -was a very decent man indeed, but even for him I hoped. -</p> - -<p> -Certainly if any one wants solitude, the place is Lympne. It is in the clay -part of Kent, and my bungalow stood on the edge of an old sea cliff and stared -across the flats of Romney Marsh at the sea. In very wet weather the place is -almost inaccessible, and I have heard that at times the postman used to -traverse the more succulent portions of his route with boards upon his feet. I -never saw him doing so, but I can quite imagine it. Outside the doors of the -few cottages and houses that make up the present village big birch besoms are -stuck, to wipe off the worst of the clay, which will give some idea of the -texture of the district. I doubt if the place would be there at all, if it were -not a fading memory of things gone for ever. It was the big port of England in -Roman times, Portus Lemanis, and now the sea is four miles away. All down the -steep hill are boulders and masses of Roman brickwork, and from it old Watling -Street, still paved in places, starts like an arrow to the north. I used to -stand on the hill and think of it all, the galleys and legions, the captives -and officials, the women and traders, the speculators like myself, all the -swarm and tumult that came clanking in and out of the harbour. And now just a -few lumps of rubble on a grassy slope, and a sheep or two—and I. And -where the port had been were the levels of the marsh, sweeping round in a broad -curve to distant Dungeness, and dotted here and there with tree clumps and the -church towers of old mediæval towns that are following Lemanis now towards -extinction. -</p> - -<p> -That outlook on the marsh was, indeed, one of the finest views I have ever -seen. I suppose Dungeness was fifteen miles away; it lay like a raft on the -sea, and farther westward were the hills by Hastings under the setting sun. -Sometimes they hung close and clear, sometimes they were faded and low, and -often the drift of the weather took them clean out of sight. And all the nearer -parts of the marsh were laced and lit by ditches and canals. -</p> - -<p> -The window at which I worked looked over the skyline of this crest, and it was -from this window that I first set eyes on Cavor. It was just as I was -struggling with my scenario, holding down my mind to the sheer hard work of it, -and naturally enough he arrested my attention. -</p> - -<p> -The sun had set, the sky was a vivid tranquillity of green and yellow, and -against that he came out black—the oddest little figure. -</p> - -<p> -He was a short, round-bodied, thin-legged little man, with a jerky quality in -his motions; he had seen fit to clothe his extraordinary mind in a cricket cap, -an overcoat, and cycling knickerbockers and stockings. Why he did so I do not -know, for he never cycled and he never played cricket. It was a fortuitous -concurrence of garments, arising I know not how. He gesticulated with his hands -and arms, and jerked his head about and buzzed. He buzzed like something -electric. You never heard such buzzing. And ever and again he cleared his -throat with a most extraordinary noise. -</p> - -<p> -There had been rain, and that spasmodic walk of his was enhanced by the extreme -slipperiness of the footpath. Exactly as he came against the sun he stopped, -pulled out a watch, hesitated. Then with a sort of convulsive gesture he turned -and retreated with every manifestation of haste, no longer gesticulating, but -going with ample strides that showed the relatively large size of his -feet—they were, I remember, grotesquely exaggerated in size by adhesive -clay—to the best possible advantage. -</p> - -<p> -This occurred on the first day of my sojourn, when my play-writing energy was -at its height and I regarded the incident simply as an annoying -distraction—the waste of five minutes. I returned to my scenario. But -when next evening the apparition was repeated with remarkable precision, and -again the next evening, and indeed every evening when rain was not falling, -concentration upon the scenario became a considerable effort. “Confound -the man,” I said, “one would think he was learning to be a -marionette!” and for several evenings I cursed him pretty heartily. Then -my annoyance gave way to amazement and curiosity. Why on earth should a man do -this thing? On the fourteenth evening I could stand it no longer, and so soon -as he appeared I opened the french window, crossed the verandah, and directed -myself to the point where he invariably stopped. -</p> - -<p> -He had his watch out as I came up to him. He had a chubby, rubicund face with -reddish brown eyes—previously I had seen him only against the light. -“One moment, sir,” said I as he turned. He stared. “One -moment,” he said, “certainly. Or if you wish to speak to me for -longer, and it is not asking too much—your moment is up—would it -trouble you to accompany me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not in the least,” said I, placing myself beside him. -</p> - -<p> -“My habits are regular. My time for intercourse—limited.” -</p> - -<p> -“This, I presume, is your time for exercise?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is. I come here to enjoy the sunset.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sir?” -</p> - -<p> -“You never look at it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never look at it?” -</p> - -<p> -“No. I’ve watched you thirteen nights, and not once have you looked -at the sunset—not once.” -</p> - -<p> -He knitted his brows like one who encounters a problem. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I enjoy the sunlight—the atmosphere—I go along this -path, through that gate”—he jerked his head over his -shoulder—“and round—” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t. You never have been. It’s all nonsense. There -isn’t a way. To-night for instance—” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I had -already been out just three minutes over the precise half-hour, decided there -was not time to go round, turned—” -</p> - -<p> -“You always do.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me—reflected. “Perhaps I do, now I come to think of -it. But what was it you wanted to speak to me about?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, this!” -</p> - -<p> -“This?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise—” -</p> - -<p> -“Making a noise?” -</p> - -<p> -“Like this.” I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me, and it -was evident the buzzing awakened distaste. “Do I do <i>that?</i>” -he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Every blessed evening.” -</p> - -<p> -“I had no idea.” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped dead. He regarded me gravely. “Can it be,” he said, -“that I have formed a Habit?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it looks like it. Doesn’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a puddle at -his feet. -</p> - -<p> -“My mind is much occupied,” he said. “And you want to know -<i>why!</i> Well, sir, I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do -these things, but I did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is just as -you say; I never <i>have</i> been beyond that field.... And these things annoy -you?” -</p> - -<p> -For some reason I was beginning to relent towards him. “Not -<i>annoy</i>,” I said. “But—imagine yourself writing a -play!” -</p> - -<p> -“I couldn’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, anything that needs concentration.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” he said, “of course,” and meditated. His -expression became so eloquent of distress, that I relented still more. After -all, there is a touch of aggression in demanding of a man you don’t know -why he hums on a public footpath. -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” he said weakly, “it’s a habit.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I recognise that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I must stop it.” -</p> - -<p> -“But not if it puts you out. After all, I had no -business—it’s something of a liberty.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all, sir,” he said, “not at all. I am greatly -indebted to you. I should guard myself against these things. In future I will. -Could I trouble you—once again? That noise?” -</p> - -<p> -“Something like this,” I said. “Zuzzoo, zuzzoo. But really, -you know—” -</p> - -<p> -“I am greatly obliged to you. In fact, I know I am getting absurdly -absent-minded. You are quite justified, sir—perfectly justified. Indeed, -I am indebted to you. The thing shall end. And now, sir, I have already brought -you farther than I should have done.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do hope my impertinence—” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all, sir, not at all.” -</p> - -<p> -We regarded each other for a moment. I raised my hat and wished him a good -evening. He responded convulsively, and so we went our ways. -</p> - -<p> -At the stile I looked back at his receding figure. His bearing had changed -remarkably, he seemed limp, shrunken. The contrast with his former -gesticulating, zuzzoing self took me in some absurd way as pathetic. I watched -him out of sight. Then wishing very heartily I had kept to my own business, I -returned to my bungalow and my play. -</p> - -<p> -The next evening I saw nothing of him, nor the next. But he was very much in my -mind, and it had occurred to me that as a sentimental comic character he might -serve a useful purpose in the development of my plot. The third day he called -upon me. -</p> - -<p> -For a time I was puzzled to think what had brought him. He made indifferent -conversation in the most formal way, then abruptly he came to business. He -wanted to buy me out of my bungalow. -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” he said, “I don’t blame you in the least, -but you’ve destroyed a habit, and it disorganises my day. I’ve -walked past here for years—years. No doubt I’ve hummed.... -You’ve made all that impossible!” -</p> - -<p> -I suggested he might try some other direction. -</p> - -<p> -“No. There is no other direction. This is the only one. I’ve -inquired. And now—every afternoon at four—I come to a dead -wall.” -</p> - -<p> -“But, my dear sir, if the thing is so important to you—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s vital. You see, I’m—I’m an -investigator—I am engaged in a scientific research. I live—” -he paused and seemed to think. “Just over there,” he said, and -pointed suddenly dangerously near my eye. “The house with white chimneys -you see just over the trees. And my circumstances are abnormal—abnormal. -I am on the point of completing one of the most -important—demonstrations—I can assure you one of <i>the most -important</i> demonstrations that have ever been made. It requires constant -thought, constant mental ease and activity. And the afternoon was my brightest -time!—effervescing with new ideas—new points of view.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why not come by still?” -</p> - -<p> -“It would be all different. I should be self-conscious. I should think of -you at your play—watching me irritated—instead of thinking of my -work. No! I must have the bungalow.” -</p> - -<p> -I meditated. Naturally, I wanted to think the matter over thoroughly before -anything decisive was said. I was generally ready enough for business in those -days, and selling always attracted me; but in the first place it was not my -bungalow, and even if I sold it to him at a good price I might get -inconvenienced in the delivery of goods if the current owner got wind of the -transaction, and in the second I was, well—undischarged. It was clearly a -business that required delicate handling. Moreover, the possibility of his -being in pursuit of some valuable invention also interested me. It occurred to -me that I would like to know more of this research, not with any dishonest -intention, but simply with an idea that to know what it was would be a relief -from play-writing. I threw out feelers. -</p> - -<p> -He was quite willing to supply information. Indeed, once he was fairly under -way the conversation became a monologue. He talked like a man long pent up, who -has had it over with himself again and again. He talked for nearly an hour, and -I must confess I found it a pretty stiff bit of listening. But through it all -there was the undertone of satisfaction one feels when one is neglecting work -one has set oneself. During that first interview I gathered very little of the -drift of his work. Half his words were technicalities entirely strange to me, -and he illustrated one or two points with what he was pleased to call -elementary mathematics, computing on an envelope with a copying-ink pencil, in -a manner that made it hard even to seem to understand. “Yes,” I -said, “yes. Go on!” Nevertheless I made out enough to convince me -that he was no mere crank playing at discoveries. In spite of his crank-like -appearance there was a force about him that made that impossible. Whatever it -was, it was a thing with mechanical possibilities. He told me of a work-shed he -had, and of three assistants—originally jobbing carpenters—whom he -had trained. Now, from the work-shed to the patent office is clearly only one -step. He invited me to see those things. I accepted readily, and took care, by -a remark or so, to underline that. The proposed transfer of the bungalow -remained very conveniently in suspense. -</p> - -<p> -At last he rose to depart, with an apology for the length of his call. Talking -over his work was, he said, a pleasure enjoyed only too rarely. It was not -often he found such an intelligent listener as myself, he mingled very little -with professional scientific men. -</p> - -<p> -“So much pettiness,” he explained; “so much intrigue! And -really, when one has an idea—a novel, fertilising idea—I -don’t want to be uncharitable, but—” -</p> - -<p> -I am a man who believes in impulses. I made what was perhaps a rash -proposition. But you must remember, that I had been alone, play-writing in -Lympne, for fourteen days, and my compunction for his ruined walk still hung -about me. “Why not,” said I, “make this your new habit? In -the place of the one I spoilt? At least, until we can settle about the -bungalow. What you want is to turn over your work in your mind. That you have -always done during your afternoon walk. Unfortunately that’s -over—you can’t get things back as they were. But why not come and -talk about your work to me; use me as a sort of wall against which you may -throw your thoughts and catch them again? It’s certain I don’t know -enough to steal your ideas myself—and I know no scientific -men—” -</p> - -<p> -I stopped. He was considering. Evidently the thing attracted him. “But -I’m afraid I should bore you,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“You think I’m too dull?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, no; but technicalities—” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow, you’ve interested me immensely this afternoon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course it <i>would</i> be a great help to me. Nothing clears up -one’s ideas so much as explaining them. Hitherto—” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear sir, say no more.” -</p> - -<p> -“But really can you spare the time?” -</p> - -<p> -“There is no rest like change of occupation,” I said, with profound -conviction. -</p> - -<p> -The affair was over. On my verandah steps he turned. “I am already -greatly indebted to you,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -I made an interrogative noise. -</p> - -<p> -“You have completely cured me of that ridiculous habit of humming,” -he explained. -</p> - -<p> -I think I said I was glad to be of any service to him, and he turned away. -</p> - -<p> -Immediately the train of thought that our conversation had suggested must have -resumed its sway. His arms began to wave in their former fashion. The faint -echo of “zuzzoo” came back to me on the breeze.... -</p> - -<p> -Well, after all, that was not my affair.... -</p> - -<p> -He came the next day, and again the next day after that, and delivered two -lectures on physics to our mutual satisfaction. He talked with an air of being -extremely lucid about the “ether” and “tubes of force,” -and “gravitational potential,” and things like that, and I sat in -my other folding-chair and said, “Yes,” “Go on,” -“I follow you,” to keep him going. It was tremendously difficult -stuff, but I do not think he ever suspected how much I did not understand him. -There were moments when I doubted whether I was well employed, but at any rate -I was resting from that confounded play. Now and then things gleamed on me -clearly for a space, only to vanish just when I thought I had hold of them. -Sometimes my attention failed altogether, and I would give it up and sit and -stare at him, wondering whether, after all, it would not be better to use him -as a central figure in a good farce and let all this other stuff slide. And -then, perhaps, I would catch on again for a bit. -</p> - -<p> -At the earliest opportunity I went to see his house. It was large and -carelessly furnished; there were no servants other than his three assistants, -and his dietary and private life were characterised by a philosophical -simplicity. He was a water-drinker, a vegetarian, and all those logical -disciplinary things. But the sight of his equipment settled many doubts. It -looked like business from cellar to attic—an amazing little place to find -in an out-of-the-way village. The ground-floor rooms contained benches and -apparatus, the bakehouse and scullery boiler had developed into respectable -furnaces, dynamos occupied the cellar, and there was a gasometer in the garden. -He showed it to me with all the confiding zest of a man who has been living too -much alone. His seclusion was overflowing now in an excess of confidence, and I -had the good luck to be the recipient. -</p> - -<p> -The three assistants were creditable specimens of the class of -“handy-men” from which they came. Conscientious if unintelligent, -strong, civil, and willing. One, Spargus, who did the cooking and all the metal -work, had been a sailor; a second, Gibbs, was a joiner; and the third was an -ex-jobbing gardener, and now general assistant. They were the merest labourers. -All the intelligent work was done by Cavor. Theirs was the darkest ignorance -compared even with my muddled impression. -</p> - -<p> -And now, as to the nature of these inquiries. Here, unhappily, comes a grave -difficulty. I am no scientific expert, and if I were to attempt to set forth in -the highly scientific language of Mr. Cavor the aim to which his experiments -tended, I am afraid I should confuse not only the reader but myself, and almost -certainly I should make some blunder that would bring upon me the mockery of -every up-to-date student of mathematical physics in the country. The best thing -I can do therefore is, I think to give my impressions in my own inexact -language, without any attempt to wear a garment of knowledge to which I have no -claim. -</p> - -<p> -The object of Mr. Cavor’s search was a substance that should be -“opaque”—he used some other word I have forgotten, but -“opaque” conveys the idea—to “all forms of radiant -energy.” “Radiant energy,” he made me understand, was -anything like light or heat, or those Röntgen Rays there was so much talk about -a year or so ago, or the electric waves of Marconi, or gravitation. All these -things, he said, <i>radiate</i> out from centres, and act on bodies at a -distance, whence comes the term “radiant energy.” Now almost all -substances are opaque to some form or other of radiant energy. Glass, for -example, is transparent to light, but much less so to heat, so that it is -useful as a fire-screen; and alum is transparent to light, but blocks heat -completely. A solution of iodine in carbon bisulphide, on the other hand, -completely blocks light, but is quite transparent to heat. It will hide a fire -from you, but permit all its warmth to reach you. Metals are not only opaque to -light and heat, but also to electrical energy, which passes through both iodine -solution and glass almost as though they were not interposed. And so on. -</p> - -<p> -Now all known substances are “transparent” to gravitation. You can -use screens of various sorts to cut off the light or heat, or electrical -influence of the sun, or the warmth of the earth from anything; you can screen -things by sheets of metal from Marconi’s rays, but nothing will cut off -the gravitational attraction of the sun or the gravitational attraction of the -earth. Yet why there should be nothing is hard to say. Cavor did not see why -such a substance should not exist, and certainly I could not tell him. I had -never thought of such a possibility before. He showed me by calculations on -paper, which Lord Kelvin, no doubt, or Professor Lodge, or Professor Karl -Pearson, or any of those great scientific people might have understood, but -which simply reduced me to a hopeless muddle, that not only was such a -substance possible, but that it must satisfy certain conditions. It was an -amazing piece of reasoning. Much as it amazed and exercised me at the time, it -would be impossible to reproduce it here. “Yes,” I said to it all, -“yes; go on!” Suffice it for this story that he believed he might -be able to manufacture this possible substance opaque to gravitation out of a -complicated alloy of metals and something new—a new element, I -fancy—called, I believe, <i>helium</i>, which was sent to him from London -in sealed stone jars. Doubt has been thrown upon this detail, but I am almost -certain it was <i>helium</i> he had sent him in sealed stone jars. It was -certainly something very gaseous and thin. If only I had taken notes... -</p> - -<p> -But then, how was I to foresee the necessity of taking notes? -</p> - -<p> -Any one with the merest germ of an imagination will understand the -extraordinary possibilities of such a substance, and will sympathise a little -with the emotion I felt as this understanding emerged from the haze of abstruse -phrases in which Cavor expressed himself. Comic relief in a play indeed! It was -some time before I would believe that I had interpreted him aright, and I was -very careful not to ask questions that would have enabled him to gauge the -profundity of misunderstanding into which he dropped his daily exposition. But -no one reading the story of it here will sympathise fully, because from my -barren narrative it will be impossible to gather the strength of my conviction -that this astonishing substance was positively going to be made. -</p> - -<p> -I do not recall that I gave my play an hour’s consecutive work at any -time after my visit to his house. My imagination had other things to do. There -seemed no limit to the possibilities of the stuff; whichever way I tried I came -on miracles and revolutions. For example, if one wanted to lift a weight, -however enormous, one had only to get a sheet of this substance beneath it, and -one might lift it with a straw. My first natural impulse was to apply this -principle to guns and ironclads, and all the material and methods of war, and -from that to shipping, locomotion, building, every conceivable form of human -industry. The chance that had brought me into the very birth-chamber of this -new time—it was an epoch, no less—was one of those chances that -come once in a thousand years. The thing unrolled, it expanded and expanded. -Among other things I saw in it my redemption as a business man. I saw a parent -company, and daughter companies, applications to right of us, applications to -left, rings and trusts, privileges, and concessions spreading and spreading, -until one vast, stupendous Cavorite company ran and ruled the world. -</p> - -<p> -And I was in it! -</p> - -<p> -I took my line straight away. I knew I was staking everything, but I jumped -there and then. -</p> - -<p> -“We’re on absolutely the biggest thing that has ever been -invented,” I said, and put the accent on “we.” “If you -want to keep me out of this, you’ll have to do it with a gun. I’m -coming down to be your fourth labourer to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -He seemed surprised at my enthusiasm, but not a bit suspicious or hostile. -Rather, he was self-depreciatory. He looked at me doubtfully. “But do you -really think—?” he said. “And your play! How about that -play?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s vanished!” I cried. “My dear sir, don’t you -see what you’ve got? Don’t you see what you’re going to -do?” -</p> - -<p> -That was merely a rhetorical turn, but positively, he didn’t. At first I -could not believe it. He had not had the beginning of the inkling of an idea. -This astonishing little man had been working on purely theoretical grounds the -whole time! When he said it was “the most important” research the -world had ever seen, he simply meant it squared up so many theories, settled so -much that was in doubt; he had troubled no more about the application of the -stuff he was going to turn out than if he had been a machine that makes guns. -This was a possible substance, and he was going to make it! <i>V’la -tout</i>, as the Frenchman says. -</p> - -<p> -Beyond that, he was childish! If he made it, it would go down to posterity as -Cavorite or Cavorine, and he would be made an F.R.S., and his portrait given -away as a scientific worthy with <i>Nature</i>, and things like that. And that -was all he saw! He would have dropped this bombshell into the world as though -he had discovered a new species of gnat, if it had not happened that I had come -along. And there it would have lain and fizzled, like one or two other little -things these scientific people have lit and dropped about us. -</p> - -<p> -When I realised this, it was I did the talking, and Cavor who said, “Go -on!” I jumped up. I paced the room, gesticulating like a boy of twenty. I -tried to make him understand his duties and responsibilities in the -matter—<i>our</i> duties and responsibilities in the matter. I assured -him we might make wealth enough to work any sort of social revolution we -fancied, we might own and order the whole world. I told him of companies and -patents, and the case for secret processes. All these things seemed to take him -much as his mathematics had taken me. A look of perplexity came into his ruddy -little face. He stammered something about indifference to wealth, but I brushed -all that aside. He had got to be rich, and it was no good his stammering. I -gave him to understand the sort of man I was, and that I had had very -considerable business experience. I did not tell him I was an undischarged -bankrupt at the time, because that was temporary, but I think I reconciled my -evident poverty with my financial claims. And quite insensibly, in the way such -projects grow, the understanding of a Cavorite monopoly grew up between us. He -was to make the stuff, and I was to make the boom. -</p> - -<p> -I stuck like a leech to the “we”—“you” and -“I” didn’t exist for me. -</p> - -<p> -His idea was that the profits I spoke of might go to endow research, but that, -of course, was a matter we had to settle later. “That’s all -right,” I shouted, “that’s all right.” The great point, -as I insisted, was to get the thing done. -</p> - -<p> -“Here is a substance,” I cried, “no home, no factory, no -fortress, no ship can dare to be without—more universally applicable even -than a patent medicine. There isn’t a solitary aspect of it, not one of -its ten thousand possible uses that will not make us rich, Cavor, beyond the -dreams of avarice!” -</p> - -<p> -“No!” he said. “I begin to see. It’s extraordinary how -one gets new points of view by talking over things!” -</p> - -<p> -“And as it happens you have just talked to the right man!” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose no one,” he said, “is absolutely <i>averse</i> to -enormous wealth. Of course there is one thing—” -</p> - -<p> -He paused. I stood still. -</p> - -<p> -“It is just possible, you know, that we may not be able to make it after -all! It may be one of those things that are a theoretical possibility, but a -practical absurdity. Or when we make it, there may be some little hitch!” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll tackle the hitch when it comes,” said I. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II.<br /> -The First Making of Cavorite</h2> - -<p> -But Cavor’s fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was -concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was made! -</p> - -<p> -Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least expected -it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other things—I -wish I knew the particulars now!—and he intended to leave the mixture a -week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had miscalculated, the last -stage in the combination would occur when the stuff sank to a temperature of 60 -degrees Fahrenheit. But it chanced that, unknown to Cavor, dissension had -arisen about the furnace tending. Gibbs, who had previously seen to this, had -suddenly attempted to shift it to the man who had been a gardener, on the score -that coal was soil, being dug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the -province of a joiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, however, -that coal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that he was cook. But -Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was a joiner and -that coal is notoriously fossil wood. Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish -the furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor was too much immersed in certain -interesting problems concerning a Cavorite flying machine (neglecting the -resistance of the air and one or two other points) to perceive that anything -was wrong. And the premature birth of his invention took place just as he was -coming across the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea. -</p> - -<p> -I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, and -everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought -me out upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against the -autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just rose above a -gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden Hills, faint and -blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out spacious and serene. And -then— -</p> - -<p> -The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as they rose, -and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then overtaking them came -a huge white flame. The trees about the building swayed and whirled and tore -themselves to pieces, that sprang towards the flare. My ears were smitten with -a clap of thunder that left me deaf on one side for life, and all about me -windows smashed, unheeded. -</p> - -<p> -I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even as I -did so came the wind. -</p> - -<p> -Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in great leaps -and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the same moment the -discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through the screaming air. I saw -one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six yards of me, leap a score of -feet, and so hurry in great strides towards the focus of the disturbance. -Cavor, kicking and flapping, came down again, rolled over and over on the -ground for a space, struggled up and was lifted and borne forward at an -enormous velocity, vanishing at last among the labouring, lashing trees that -writhed about his house. -</p> - -<p> -A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance rushed up -towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing past me, dropped -edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the worst was over. The aerial -commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere strong gale, and I became once more -aware that I had breath and feet. By leaning back against the wind I managed to -stop, and could collect such wits as still remained to me. -</p> - -<p> -In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil sunset -had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything was flattened -and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my bungalow was still in a -general way standing, then staggered forwards towards the trees amongst which -Cavor had vanished, and through whose tall and leaf-denuded branches shone the -flames of his burning house. -</p> - -<p> -I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to them, and -for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of smashed branches and -fencing that had banked itself against a portion of his garden wall I perceived -something stir. I made a run for this, but before I reached it a brown object -separated itself, rose on two muddy legs, and protruded two drooping, bleeding -hands. Some tattered ends of garment fluttered out from its middle portion and -streamed before the wind. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that it was -Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward against the -wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth. -</p> - -<p> -He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His face -worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He looked as -damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, and his remark -therefore amazed me exceedingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Gratulate me,” he gasped; “gratulate me!” -</p> - -<p> -“Congratulate you!” said I. “Good heavens! What for?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve done it.” -</p> - -<p> -“You <i>have</i>. What on earth caused that explosion?” -</p> - -<p> -A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it -wasn’t an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, -and we stood clinging to one another. -</p> - -<p> -“Try and get back—to my bungalow,” I bawled in his ear. He -did not hear me, and shouted something about “three -martyrs—science,” and also something about “not much -good.” At the time he laboured under the impression that his three -attendants had perished in the whirlwind. Happily this was incorrect. Directly -he had left for my bungalow they had gone off to the public-house in Lympne to -discuss the question of the furnaces over some trivial refreshment. -</p> - -<p> -I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time he -understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to reach the -shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat in arm-chairs and -panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter articles of furniture were -in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage was done. Happily the kitchen door -had stood the pressure upon it, so that all my crockery and cooking materials -had survived. The oil stove was still burning, and I put on the water to boil -again for tea. And that prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation. -</p> - -<p> -“Quite correct,” he insisted; “quite correct. I’ve done -it, and it’s all right.” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” I protested. “All right! Why, there can’t be a -rick standing, or a fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles -round....” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s all right—<i>really</i>. I didn’t, of course, -foresee this little upset. My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and -I’m apt to disregard these practical side issues. But it’s all -right—” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear sir,” I cried, “don’t you see you’ve -done thousands of pounds’ worth of damage?” -</p> - -<p> -“There, I throw myself on your discretion. I’m not a practical man, -of course, but don’t you think they will regard it as a cyclone?” -</p> - -<p> -“But the explosion—” -</p> - -<p> -“It was <i>not</i> an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. Only, as I -say, I’m apt to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo -business on a larger scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this -Cavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....” -</p> - -<p> -He paused. “You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to gravitation, -that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each other?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” said I. “Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and -the process of its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the portions of -roof and ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. I suppose you -know—everybody knows nowadays—that, as a usual thing, the air -<i>has</i> weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the earth, -presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a half pounds to the -square inch?” -</p> - -<p> -“I know that,” said I. “Go on.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know that too,” he remarked. “Only this shows you how -useless knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this -ceased to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and the air -round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of fourteen pounds -and a half to the square inch upon this suddenly weightless air. Ah! you begin -to see! The air all about the Cavorite crushed in upon the air above it with -irresistible force. The air above the Cavorite was forced upward violently, the -air that rushed in to replace it immediately lost weight, ceased to exert any -pressure, followed suit, blew the ceiling through and the roof off.... -</p> - -<p> -“You perceive,” he said, “it formed a sort of atmospheric -fountain, a kind of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself -hadn’t been loose and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you -what would have happened?” -</p> - -<p> -I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up -and up over that infernal piece of stuff now.” -</p> - -<p> -“Precisely,” he said. “A huge fountain—” -</p> - -<p> -“Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the -atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It would -have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff!” -</p> - -<p> -“Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but as -bad—practically. It would have whipped the air off the world as one peels -a banana, and flung it thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of -course—but on an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little -better than if it never came back!” -</p> - -<p> -I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations had been -upset. “What do you mean to do now?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some of -this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself of your -domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will converse more at -leisure. It will be wise, I think”—he laid a muddy hand on my -arm—“if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I know I -have caused great damage—probably even dwelling-houses may be ruined here -and there upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I cannot possibly pay -for the damage I have done, and if the real cause of this is published, it will -lead only to heartburning and the obstruction of my work. One cannot foresee -<i>everything</i>, you know, and I cannot consent for one moment to add the -burthen of practical considerations to my theorising. Later on, when you have -come in with your practical mind, and Cavorite is floated—floated -<i>is</i> the word, isn’t it?—and it has realised all you -anticipate for it, we may set matters right with these persons. But not -now—not now. If no other explanation is offered, people, in the present -unsatisfactory state of meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a -cyclone; there might be a public subscription, and as my house has collapsed -and been burnt, I should in that case receive a considerable share in the -compensation, which would be extremely helpful to the prosecution of our -researches. But if it is known that <i>I</i> caused this, there will be no -public subscription, and everybody will be put out. Practically I should never -get a chance of working in peace again. My three assistants may or may not have -perished. That is a detail. If they have, it is no great loss; they were more -zealous than able, and this premature event must be largely due to their joint -neglect of the furnace. If they have not perished, I doubt if they have the -intelligence to explain the affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And if -during the temporary unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one -of the untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours—” -</p> - -<p> -He paused and regarded me. -</p> - -<p> -A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to entertain. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps,” said I, rising to my feet, “we had better begin by -looking for a trowel,” and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the -greenhouse. -</p> - -<p> -And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question alone. It was -clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s society I had not foreseen. The -absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating the terrestrial globe, -might at any moment result in some other grave inconvenience. On the other hand -I was young, my affairs were in a mess, and I was in just the mood for reckless -adventure—with a chance of something good at the end of it. I had quite -settled in my mind that I was to have half at least in that aspect of the -affair. Fortunately I held my bungalow, as I have already explained, on a -three-year agreement, without being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, -such as there was of it, had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, insured, -and altogether devoid of associations. In the end I decided to keep on with -him, and see the business through. -</p> - -<p> -Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer doubted at -all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began to have doubts -about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to work at once to -reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our experiments. Cavor talked more -on my level than he had ever done before, when it came to the question of how -we should make the stuff next. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a sort of glee I -had not expected in him, “of course we must make it again. We have caught -a Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good and all. -If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, we will. -But—there <i>must</i> be risks! There must be. In experimental work there -always are. And here, as a practical man, <i>you</i> must come in. For my own -part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very thin. Yet I -don’t know. I have a certain dim perception of another method. I can -hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into my mind, while I was -rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, and very doubtful how the -whole adventure was to end, as being absolutely the thing I ought to have -done.” -</p> - -<p> -Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept at work -restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it became absolutely -necessary to decide upon the precise form and method of our second attempt. Our -only hitch was the strike of the three labourers, who objected to my activity -as a foreman. But that matter we compromised after two days’ delay. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III.<br /> -The Building of the sphere</h2> - -<p> -I remember the occasion very distinctly when Cavor told me of his idea of the -sphere. He had had intimations of it before, but at the time it seemed to come -to him in a rush. We were returning to the bungalow for tea, and on the way he -fell humming. Suddenly he shouted, “That’s it! That finishes it! A -sort of roller blind!” -</p> - -<p> -“Finishes what?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Space—anywhere! The moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“Mean? Why—it must be a sphere! That’s what I mean!” -</p> - -<p> -I saw I was out of it, and for a time I let him talk in his own fashion. I -hadn’t the ghost of an idea then of his drift. But after he had taken tea -he made it clear to me. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s like this,” he said. “Last time I ran this stuff -that cuts things off from gravitation into a flat tank with an overlap that -held it down. And directly it had cooled and the manufacture was completed all -that uproar happened, nothing above it weighed anything, the air went squirting -up, the house squirted up, and if the stuff itself hadn’t squirted up -too, I don’t know what would have happened! But suppose the substance is -loose, and quite free to go up?” -</p> - -<p> -“It will go up at once!” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly. With no more disturbance than firing a big gun.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what good will that do?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m going up with it!” -</p> - -<p> -I put down my teacup and stared at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Imagine a sphere,” he explained, “large enough to hold two -people and their luggage. It will be made of steel lined with thick glass; it -will contain a proper store of solidified air, concentrated food, water -distilling apparatus, and so forth. And enamelled, as it were, on the outer -steel—” -</p> - -<p> -“Cavorite?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how will you get inside?” -</p> - -<p> -“There was a similar problem about a dumpling.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I know. But how?” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s perfectly easy. An air-tight manhole is all that is needed. -That, of course, will have to be a little complicated; there will have to be a -valve, so that things may be thrown out, if necessary, without much loss of -air.” -</p> - -<p> -“Like Jules Verne’s thing in <i>A Trip to the Moon</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -But Cavor was not a reader of fiction. -</p> - -<p> -“I begin to see,” I said slowly. “And you could get in and -screw yourself up while the Cavorite was warm, and as soon as it cooled it -would become impervious to gravitation, and off you would fly—” -</p> - -<p> -“At a tangent.” -</p> - -<p> -“You would go off in a straight line—” I stopped abruptly. -“What is to prevent the thing travelling in a straight line into space -for ever?” I asked. “You’re not safe to get anywhere, and if -you do—how will you get back?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve just thought of that,” said Cavor. “That’s -what I meant when I said the thing is finished. The inner glass sphere can be -air-tight, and, except for the manhole, continuous, and the steel sphere can be -made in sections, each section capable of rolling up after the fashion of a -roller blind. These can easily be worked by springs, and released and checked -by electricity conveyed by platinum wires fused through the glass. All that is -merely a question of detail. So you see, that except for the thickness of the -blind rollers, the Cavorite exterior of the sphere will consist of windows or -blinds, whichever you like to call them. Well, when all these windows or blinds -are shut, no light, no heat, no gravitation, no radiant energy of any sort will -get at the inside of the sphere, it will fly on through space in a straight -line, as you say. But open a window, imagine one of the windows open. Then at -once any heavy body that chances to be in that direction will attract -us—” -</p> - -<p> -I sat taking it in. -</p> - -<p> -“You see?” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I <i>see</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“Practically we shall be able to tack about in space just as we wish. Get -attracted by this and that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes. <i>That’s</i> clear enough. Only—” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t quite see what we shall do it for! It’s really only -jumping off the world and back again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Surely! For example, one might go to the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“And when one got there? What would you find?” -</p> - -<p> -“We should see—Oh! consider the new knowledge.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there air there?” -</p> - -<p> -“There may be.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a fine idea,” I said, “but it strikes me as a -large order all the same. The moon! I’d much rather try some smaller -things first.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re out of the question, because of the air difficulty.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not apply that idea of spring blinds—Cavorite blinds in strong -steel cases—to lifting weights?” -</p> - -<p> -“It wouldn’t work,” he insisted. “After all, to go into -outer space is not so much worse, if at all, than a polar expedition. Men go on -polar expeditions.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not business men. And besides, they get paid for polar expeditions. And -if anything goes wrong there are relief parties. But this—it’s just -firing ourselves off the world for nothing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Call it prospecting.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll have to call it that.... One might make a book of it -perhaps,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“I have no doubt there will be minerals,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“For example?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! sulphur, ores, gold perhaps, possibly new elements.” -</p> - -<p> -“Cost of carriage,” I said. “You know you’re -<i>not</i> a practical man. The moon’s a quarter of a million miles -away.” -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to me it wouldn’t cost much to cart any weight anywhere -if you packed it in a Cavorite case.” -</p> - -<p> -I had not thought of that. “Delivered free on head of purchaser, -eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t as though we were confined to the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s Mars—clear atmosphere, novel surroundings, -exhilarating sense of lightness. It might be pleasant to go there.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there air on Mars?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“Seems as though you might run it as a sanatorium. By the way, how far is -Mars?” -</p> - -<p> -“Two hundred million miles at present,” said Cavor airily; -“and you go close by the sun.” -</p> - -<p> -My imagination was picking itself up again. “After all,” I said, -“there’s something in these things. There’s -travel—” -</p> - -<p> -An extraordinary possibility came rushing into my mind. Suddenly I saw, as in a -vision, the whole solar system threaded with Cavorite liners and spheres -<i>de luxe</i>. “Rights of pre-emption,” came floating into my -head—planetary rights of pre-emption. I recalled the old Spanish monopoly -in American gold. It wasn’t as though it was just this planet or -that—it was all of them. I stared at Cavor’s rubicund face, and -suddenly my imagination was leaping and dancing. I stood up, I walked up and -down; my tongue was unloosened. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m beginning to take it in,” I said; “I’m -beginning to take it in.” The transition from doubt to enthusiasm seemed -to take scarcely any time at all. “But this is tremendous!” I -cried. “This is Imperial! I haven’t been dreaming of this sort of -thing.” -</p> - -<p> -Once the chill of my opposition was removed, his own pent-up excitement had -play. He too got up and paced. He too gesticulated and shouted. We behaved like -men inspired. We <i>were</i> men inspired. -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll settle all that!” he said in answer to some incidental -difficulty that had pulled me up. “We’ll soon settle that! -We’ll start the drawings for mouldings this very night.” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll start them now,” I responded, and we hurried off to -the laboratory to begin upon this work forthwith. -</p> - -<p> -I was like a child in Wonderland all that night. The dawn found us both still -at work—we kept our electric light going heedless of the day. I remember -now exactly how these drawings looked. I shaded and tinted while Cavor -drew—smudged and haste-marked they were in every line, but wonderfully -correct. We got out the orders for the steel blinds and frames we needed from -that night’s work, and the glass sphere was designed within a week. We -gave up our afternoon conversations and our old routine altogether. We worked, -and we slept and ate when we could work no longer for hunger and fatigue. Our -enthusiasm infected even our three men, though they had no idea what the sphere -was for. Through those days the man Gibbs gave up walking, and went everywhere, -even across the room, at a sort of fussy run. -</p> - -<p> -And it grew—the sphere. December passed, January—I spent a day with -a broom sweeping a path through the snow from bungalow to -laboratory—February, March. By the end of March the completion was in -sight. In January had come a team of horses, a huge packing-case; we had our -thick glass sphere now ready, and in position under the crane we had rigged to -sling it into the steel shell. All the bars and blinds of the steel -shell—it was not really a spherical shell, but polyhedral, with a roller -blind to each facet—had arrived by February, and the lower half was -bolted together. The Cavorite was half made by March, the metallic paste had -gone through two of the stages in its manufacture, and we had plastered quite -half of it on to the steel bars and blinds. It was astonishing how closely we -kept to the lines of Cavor’s first inspiration in working out the scheme. -When the bolting together of the sphere was finished, he proposed to remove the -rough roof of the temporary laboratory in which the work was done, and build a -furnace about it. So the last stage of Cavorite making, in which the paste is -heated to a dull red glow in a stream of helium, would be accomplished when it -was already on the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -And then we had to discuss and decide what provisions we were to -take—compressed foods, concentrated essences, steel cylinders containing -reserve oxygen, an arrangement for removing carbonic acid and waste from the -air and restoring oxygen by means of sodium peroxide, water condensers, and so -forth. I remember the little heap they made in the corner—tins, and -rolls, and boxes—convincingly matter-of-fact. -</p> - -<p> -It was a strenuous time, with little chance of thinking. But one day, when we -were drawing near the end, an odd mood came over me. I had been bricking up the -furnace all the morning, and I sat down by these possessions dead beat. -Everything seemed dull and incredible. -</p> - -<p> -“But look here, Cavor,” I said. “After all! What’s it -all for?” -</p> - -<p> -He smiled. “The thing now is to go.” -</p> - -<p> -“The moon,” I reflected. “But what do you expect? I thought -the moon was a dead world.” -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“We’re going to see.” -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Are</i> we?” I said, and stared before me. -</p> - -<p> -“You are tired,” he remarked. “You’d better take a walk -this afternoon.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said obstinately; “I’m going to finish this -brickwork.” -</p> - -<p> -And I did, and insured myself a night of insomnia. I don’t think I have -ever had such a night. I had some bad times before my business collapse, but -the very worst of those was sweet slumber compared to this infinity of aching -wakefulness. I was suddenly in the most enormous funk at the thing we were -going to do. -</p> - -<p> -I do not remember before that night thinking at all of the risks we were -running. Now they came like that array of spectres that once beleaguered -Prague, and camped around me. The strangeness of what we were about to do, the -unearthliness of it, overwhelmed me. I was like a man awakened out of pleasant -dreams to the most horrible surroundings. I lay, eyes wide open, and the sphere -seemed to get more flimsy and feeble, and Cavor more unreal and fantastic, and -the whole enterprise madder and madder every moment. -</p> - -<p> -I got out of bed and wandered about. I sat at the window and stared at the -immensity of space. Between the stars was the void, the unfathomable darkness! -I tried to recall the fragmentary knowledge of astronomy I had gained in my -irregular reading, but it was all too vague to furnish any idea of the things -we might expect. At last I got back to bed and snatched some moments of -sleep—moments of nightmare rather—in which I fell and fell and fell -for evermore into the abyss of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -I astonished Cavor at breakfast. I told him shortly, “I’m not -coming with you in the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -I met all his protests with a sullen persistence. “The thing’s too -mad,” I said, “and I won’t come. The thing’s too -mad.” -</p> - -<p> -I would not go with him to the laboratory. I fretted about my bungalow for a -time, and then took hat and stick and set out alone, I knew not whither. It -chanced to be a glorious morning: a warm wind and deep blue sky, the first -green of spring abroad, and multitudes of birds singing. I lunched on beef and -beer in a little public-house near Elham, and startled the landlord by -remarking <i>apropos</i> of the weather, “A man who leaves the world when -days of this sort are about is a fool!” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s what I says when I heerd on it!” said the landlord, -and I found that for one poor soul at least this world had proved excessive, -and there had been a throat-cutting. I went on with a new twist to my thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -In the afternoon I had a pleasant sleep in a sunny place, and went on my way -refreshed. -</p> - -<p> -I came to a comfortable-looking inn near Canterbury. It was bright with -creepers, and the landlady was a clean old woman and took my eye. I found I had -just enough money to pay for my lodging with her. I decided to stop the night -there. She was a talkative body, and among many other particulars I learnt she -had never been to London. “Canterbury’s as far as ever I -been,” she said. “I’m not one of your gad-about sort.” -</p> - -<p> -“How would you like a trip to the moon?” I cried. -</p> - -<p> -“I never did hold with them ballooneys,” she said evidently under -the impression that this was a common excursion enough. “I wouldn’t -go up in one—not for ever so.” -</p> - -<p> -This struck me as being funny. After I had supped I sat on a bench by the door -of the inn and gossiped with two labourers about brickmaking, and motor cars, -and the cricket of last year. And in the sky a faint new crescent, blue and -vague as a distant Alp, sank westward over the sun. -</p> - -<p> -The next day I returned to Cavor. “I am coming,” I said. -“I’ve been a little out of order, that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -That was the only time I felt any serious doubt our enterprise. Nerves purely! -After that I worked a little more carefully, and took a trudge for an hour -every day. And at last, save for the heating in the furnace, our labours were -at an end. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV.<br /> -Inside the Sphere</h2> - -<p> -“Go on,” said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and -looked down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. It was -evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was upon -everything. -</p> - -<p> -I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom of the -sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other impedimenta from Cavor. -The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at eighty, and as we should lose -little or none of this by radiation, we were dressed in shoes and thin -flannels. We had, however, a bundle of thick woollen clothing and several thick -blankets to guard against mischance. -</p> - -<p> -By Cavor’s direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, and -so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He walked about -the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had overlooked, and then -crawled in after me. I noted something in his hand. -</p> - -<p> -“What have you got there?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Haven’t you brought anything to read?” -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord! No.” -</p> - -<p> -“I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties— The voyage may -last— We may be weeks!” -</p> - -<p> -“But—” -</p> - -<p> -“We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no -occupation.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish I’d known—” -</p> - -<p> -He peered out of the manhole. “Look!” he said. “There’s -something there!” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there time?” -</p> - -<p> -“We shall be an hour.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked out. It was an old number of <i>Tit-Bits</i> that one of the men must -have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn <i>Lloyd’s -News</i>. I scrambled back into the sphere with these things. “What have -you got?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -I took the book from his hand and read, “The Works of William -Shakespeare”. -</p> - -<p> -He coloured slightly. “My education has been so purely -scientific—” he said apologetically. -</p> - -<p> -“Never read him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Never.” -</p> - -<p> -“He knew a little, you know—in an irregular sort of way.” -</p> - -<p> -“Precisely what I am told,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he pressed -a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The little oblong of -twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time neither of us spoke. -Although our case would not be impervious to sound, everything was very still. -I perceived there was nothing to grip when the shock of our start should come, -and I realised that I should be uncomfortable for want of a chair. -</p> - -<p> -“Why have we no chairs?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve settled all that,” said Cavor. “We won’t -need them.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“You will see,” he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to talk. -</p> - -<p> -I became silent. Suddenly it had come to me clear and vivid that I was a fool -to be inside that sphere. Even now, I asked myself, is to too late to withdraw? -The world outside the sphere, I knew, would be cold and inhospitable enough for -me—for weeks I had been living on subsidies from Cavor—but after -all, would it be as cold as the infinite zero, as inhospitable as empty space? -If it had not been for the appearance of cowardice, I believe that even then I -should have made him let me out. But I hesitated on that score, and hesitated, -and grew fretful and angry, and the time passed. -</p> - -<p> -There came a little jerk, a noise like champagne being uncorked in another -room, and a faint whistling sound. For just one instant I had a sense of -enormous tension, a transient conviction that my feet were pressing downward -with a force of countless tons. It lasted for an infinitesimal time. -</p> - -<p> -But it stirred me to action. “Cavor!” I said into the darkness, -“my nerve’s in rags. I don’t think—” -</p> - -<p> -I stopped. He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I cried; “I’m a fool! What business have -I here? I’m not coming, Cavor. The thing’s too risky. I’m -getting out.” -</p> - -<p> -“You can’t,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t! We’ll soon see about that!” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer for ten seconds. “It’s too late for us to quarrel -now, Bedford,” he said. “That little jerk was the start. Already we -are flying as swiftly as a bullet up into the gulf of space.” -</p> - -<p> -“I—” I said, and then it didn’t seem to matter what -happened. For a time I was, as it were, stunned; I had nothing to say. It was -just as if I had never heard of this idea of leaving the world before. Then I -perceived an unaccountable change in my bodily sensations. It was a feeling of -lightness, of unreality. Coupled with that was a queer sensation in the head, -an apoplectic effect almost, and a thumping of blood vessels at the ears. -Neither of these feelings diminished as time went on, but at last I got so used -to them that I experienced no inconvenience. -</p> - -<p> -I heard a click, and a little glow lamp came into being. -</p> - -<p> -I saw Cavor’s face, as white as I felt my own to be. We regarded one -another in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him made him -seem as though he floated in a void. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, we’re committed,” I said at last. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said, “we’re committed.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t move,” he exclaimed, at some suggestion of a gesture. -“Let your muscles keep quite lax—as if you were in bed. We are in a -little universe of our own. Look at those things!” -</p> - -<p> -He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the blankets -in the bottom of the sphere. I was astonished to see that they were floating -now nearly a foot from the spherical wall. Then I saw from his shadow that -Cavor was no longer leaning against the glass. I thrust out my hand behind me, -and found that I too was suspended in space, clear of the glass. -</p> - -<p> -I did not cry out nor gesticulate, but fear came upon me. It was like being -held and lifted by something—you know not what. The mere touch of my hand -against the glass moved me rapidly. I understood what had happened, but that -did not prevent my being afraid. We were cut off from all exterior gravitation, -only the attraction of objects within our sphere had effect. Consequently -everything that was not fixed to the glass was falling—slowly because of -the slightness of our masses—towards the centre of gravity of our little -world, which seemed to be somewhere about the middle of the sphere, but rather -nearer to myself than Cavor, on account of my greater weight. -</p> - -<p> -“We must turn round,” said Cavor, “and float back to back, -with the things between us.” -</p> - -<p> -It was the strangest sensation conceivable, floating thus loosely in space, at -first indeed horribly strange, and when the horror passed, not disagreeable at -all, exceeding restful; indeed, the nearest thing in earthly experience to it -that I know is lying on a very thick, soft feather bed. But the quality of -utter detachment and independence! I had not reckoned on things like this. I -had expected a violent jerk at starting, a giddy sense of speed. Instead I -felt—as if I were disembodied. It was not like the beginning of a -journey; it was like the beginning of a dream. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V.<br /> -The Journey to the Moon</h2> - -<p> -Presently Cavor extinguished the light. He said we had not overmuch energy -stored, and that what we had we must economise for reading. For a time, whether -it was long or short I do not know, there was nothing but blank darkness. -</p> - -<p> -A question floated up out of the void. “How are we pointing?” I -said. “What is our direction?” -</p> - -<p> -“We are flying away from the earth at a tangent, and as the moon is near -her third quarter we are going somewhere towards her. I will open a -blind—” -</p> - -<p> -Came a click, and then a window in the outer case yawned open. The sky outside -was as black as the darkness within the sphere, but the shape of the open -window was marked by an infinite number of stars. -</p> - -<p> -Those who have only seen the starry sky from the earth cannot imagine its -appearance when the vague, half luminous veil of our air has been withdrawn. -The stars we see on earth are the mere scattered survivors that penetrate our -misty atmosphere. But now at last I could realise the meaning of the hosts of -heaven! -</p> - -<p> -Stranger things we were presently to see, but that airless, star-dusted sky! Of -all things, I think that will be one of the last I shall forget. -</p> - -<p> -The little window vanished with a click, another beside it snapped open and -instantly closed, and then a third, and for a moment I had to close my eyes -because of the blinding splendour of the waning moon. -</p> - -<p> -For a space I had to stare at Cavor and the white-lit things about me to season -my eyes to light again, before I could turn them towards that pallid glare. -</p> - -<p> -Four windows were open in order that the gravitation of the moon might act upon -all the substances in our sphere. I found I was no longer floating freely in -space, but that my feet were resting on the glass in the direction of the moon. -The blankets and cases of provisions were also creeping slowly down the glass, -and presently came to rest so as to block out a portion of the view. It seemed -to me, of course, that I looked “down” when I looked at the moon. -On earth “down” means earthward, the way things fall, and -“up” the reverse direction. Now the pull of gravitation was towards -the moon, and for all I knew to the contrary our earth was overhead. And, of -course, when all the Cavorite blinds were closed, “down” was -towards the centre of our sphere, and “up” towards its outer wall. -</p> - -<p> -It was curiously unlike earthly experience, too, to have the light coming -<i>up</i> to one. On earth light falls from above, or comes slanting down -sideways, but here it came from beneath our feet, and to see our shadows we had -to look up. -</p> - -<p> -At first it gave me a sort of vertigo to stand only on thick glass and look -down upon the moon through hundreds of thousands of miles of vacant space; but -this sickness passed very speedily. And then—the splendour of the sight! -</p> - -<p> -The reader may imagine it best if he will lie on the ground some warm -summer’s night and look between his upraised feet at the moon, but for -some reason, probably because the absence of air made it so much more luminous, -the moon seemed already considerably larger than it does from earth. The -minutest details of its surface were acutely clear. And since we did not see it -through air, its outline was bright and sharp, there was no glow or halo about -it, and the star-dust that covered the sky came right to its very margin, and -marked the outline of its unilluminated part. And as I stood and stared at the -moon between my feet, that perception of the impossible that had been with me -off and on ever since our start, returned again with tenfold conviction. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “this takes me queerly. Those companies we -were going to run, and all that about minerals?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t see ‘em here.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Cavor; “but you’ll get over all that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose I’m made to turn right side up again. Still, -<i>this</i>— For a moment I could half believe there never was a -world.” -</p> - -<p> -“That copy of <i>Lloyd’s News</i> might help you.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared at the paper for a moment, then held it above the level of my face, -and found I could read it quite easily. I struck a column of mean little -advertisements. “A gentleman of private means is willing to lend -money,” I read. I knew that gentleman. Then somebody eccentric wanted to -sell a Cutaway bicycle, “quite new and cost £15,” for five pounds; -and a lady in distress wished to dispose of some fish knives and forks, -“a wedding present,” at a great sacrifice. No doubt some simple -soul was sagely examining these knives and forks, and another triumphantly -riding off on that bicycle, and a third trustfully consulting that benevolent -gentleman of means even as I read. I laughed, and let the paper drift from my -hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Are we visible from the earth?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“I knew some one who was rather interested in astronomy. It occurred to -me that it would be rather odd if—my friend—chanced to be looking -through some telescope.” -</p> - -<p> -“It would need the most powerful telescope on earth even now to see us as -the minutest speck.” -</p> - -<p> -For a time I stared in silence at the moon. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a world,” I said; “one feels that infinitely more -than one ever did on earth. People perhaps—” -</p> - -<p> -“People!” he exclaimed. “<i>No!</i> Banish all that! Think -yourself a sort of ultra-arctic voyager exploring the desolate places of space. -Look at it!” -</p> - -<p> -He waved his hand at the shining whiteness below. “It’s -dead—dead! Vast extinct volcanoes, lava wildernesses, tumbled wastes of -snow, or frozen carbonic acid, or frozen air, and everywhere landslip seams and -cracks and gulfs. Nothing happens. Men have watched this planet systematically -with telescopes for over two hundred years. How much change do you think they -have seen?” -</p> - -<p> -“None.” -</p> - -<p> -“They have traced two indisputable landslips, a doubtful crack, and one -slight periodic change of colour, and that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t know they’d traced even that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes. But as for people—!” -</p> - -<p> -“By the way,” I asked, “how small a thing will the biggest -telescopes show upon the moon?” -</p> - -<p> -“One could see a fair-sized church. One could certainly see any towns or -buildings, or anything like the handiwork of men. There might perhaps be -insects, something in the way of ants, for example, so that they could hide in -deep burrows from the lunar light, or some new sort of creatures having no -earthly parallel. That is the most probable thing, if we are to find life there -at all. Think of the difference in conditions! Life must fit itself to a day as -long as fourteen earthly days, a cloudless sun-blaze of fourteen days, and then -a night of equal length, growing ever colder and colder under these cold, sharp -stars. In that night there must be cold, the ultimate cold, absolute zero, 273° -C. below the earthly freezing point. Whatever life there is must hibernate -through <i>that</i>, and rise again each day.” -</p> - -<p> -He mused. “One can imagine something worm-like,” he said, -“taking its air solid as an earth-worm swallows earth, or thick-skinned -monsters—” -</p> - -<p> -“By the bye,” I said, “why didn’t we bring a -gun?” -</p> - -<p> -He did not answer that question. “No,” he concluded, “we just -have to go. We shall see when we get there.” -</p> - -<p> -I remembered something. “Of course, there’s my minerals, -anyhow,” I said; “whatever the conditions may be.” -</p> - -<p> -Presently he told me he wished to alter our course a little by letting the -earth tug at us for a moment. He was going to open one earthward blind for -thirty seconds. He warned me that it would make my head swim, and advised me to -extend my hands against the glass to break my fall. I did as he directed, and -thrust my feet against the bales of food cases and air cylinders to prevent -their falling upon me. Then with a click the window flew open. I fell clumsily -upon hands and face, and saw for a moment between my black extended fingers our -mother earth—a planet in a downward sky. -</p> - -<p> -We were still very near—Cavor told me the distance was perhaps eight -hundred miles and the huge terrestrial disc filled all heaven. But already it -was plain to see that the world was a globe. The land below us was in twilight -and vague, but westward the vast grey stretches of the Atlantic shone like -molten silver under the receding day. I think I recognised the cloud-dimmed -coast-lines of France and Spain and the south of England, and then, with a -click, the shutter closed again, and I found myself in a state of extraordinary -confusion sliding slowly over the smooth glass. -</p> - -<p> -When at last things settled themselves in my mind again, it seemed quite beyond -question that the moon was “down” and under my feet, and that the -earth was somewhere away on the level of the horizon—the earth that had -been “down” to me and my kindred since the beginning of things. -</p> - -<p> -So slight were the exertions required of us, so easy did the practical -annihilation of our weight make all we had to do, that the necessity for taking -refreshment did not occur to us for nearly six hours (by Cavor’s -chronometer) after our start. I was amazed at that lapse of time. Even then I -was satisfied with very little. Cavor examined the apparatus for absorbing -carbonic acid and water, and pronounced it to be in satisfactory order, our -consumption of oxygen having been extraordinarily slight. And our talk being -exhausted for the time, and there being nothing further for us to do, we gave -way to a curious drowsiness that had come upon us, and spreading our blankets -on the bottom of the sphere in such a manner as to shut out most of the -moonlight, wished each other good-night, and almost immediately fell asleep. -</p> - -<p> -And so, sleeping, and sometimes talking and reading a little, and at times -eating, although without any keenness of appetite,<a href="#fn-1" name="fnref-1" id="fnref-1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> -but for the most part in a sort of quiescence that was neither waking nor -slumber, we fell through a space of time that had neither night nor day in it, -silently, softly, and swiftly down towards the moon. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a name="fn-1" id="fn-1"></a> <a href="#fnref-1">[1]</a> -It is a curious thing, that while we were in the sphere we felt not the -slightest desire for food, nor did we feel the want of it when we abstained. At -first we forced our appetites, but afterwards we fasted completely. Altogether -we did not consume one-hundredth part of the compressed provisions we had -brought with us. The amount of carbonic acid we breathed was also unnaturally -low, but why this was, I am quite unable to explain. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI.<br /> -The Landing on the Moon</h2> - -<p> -I remember how one day Cavor suddenly opened six of our shutters and blinded me -so that I cried aloud at him. The whole area was moon, a stupendous scimitar of -white dawn with its edge hacked out by notches of darkness, the crescent shore -of an ebbing tide of darkness, out of which peaks and pinnacles came glittering -into the blaze of the sun. I take it the reader has seen pictures or -photographs of the moon and that I need not describe the broader features of -that landscape, those spacious ring-like ranges vaster than any terrestrial -mountains, their summits shining in the day, their shadows harsh and deep, the -grey disordered plains, the ridges, hills, and craterlets, all passing at last -from a blazing illumination into a common mystery of black. Athwart this world -we were flying scarcely a hundred miles above its crests and pinnacles. And now -we could see, what no eye on earth will ever see, that under the blaze of the -day the harsh outlines of the rocks and ravines of the plains and crater floor -grew grey and indistinct under a thickening haze, that the white of their lit -surfaces broke into lumps and patches, and broke again and shrank and vanished, -and that here and there strange tints of brown and olive grew and spread. -</p> - -<p> -But little time we had for watching then. For now we had come to the real -danger of our journey. We had to drop ever closer to the moon as we spun about -it, to slacken our pace and watch our chance, until at last we could dare to -drop upon its surface. -</p> - -<p> -For Cavor that was a time of intense exertion; for me it was an anxious -inactivity. I seemed perpetually to be getting out of his way. He leapt about -the sphere from point to point with an agility that would have been impossible -on earth. He was perpetually opening and closing the Cavorite windows, making -calculations, consulting his chronometer by means of the glow lamp during those -last eventful hours. For a long time we had all our windows closed and hung -silently in darkness hurling through space. -</p> - -<p> -Then he was feeling for the shutter studs, and suddenly four windows were open. -I staggered and covered my eyes, drenched and scorched and blinded by the -unaccustomed splendour of the sun beneath my feet. Then again the shutters -snapped, leaving my brain spinning in a darkness that pressed against the eyes. -And after that I floated in another vast, black silence. -</p> - -<p> -Then Cavor switched on the electric light, and told me he proposed to bind all -our luggage together with the blankets about it, against the concussion of our -descent. We did this with our windows closed, because in that way our goods -arranged themselves naturally at the centre of the sphere. That too was a -strange business; we two men floating loose in that spherical space, and -packing and pulling ropes. Imagine it if you can! No up nor down, and every -effort resulting in unexpected movements. Now I would be pressed against the -glass with the full force of Cavor’s thrust, now I would be kicking -helplessly in a void. Now the star of the electric light would be overhead, now -under foot. Now Cavor’s feet would float up before my eyes, and now we -would be crossways to each other. But at last our goods were safely bound -together in a big soft bale, all except two blankets with head holes that we -were to wrap about ourselves. -</p> - -<p> -Then for a flash Cavor opened a window moonward, and we saw that we were -dropping towards a huge central crater with a number of minor craters grouped -in a sort of cross about it. And then again Cavor flung our little sphere open -to the scorching, blinding sun. I think he was using the sun’s attraction -as a brake. “Cover yourself with a blanket,” he cried, thrusting -himself from me, and for a moment I did not understand. -</p> - -<p> -Then I hauled the blanket from beneath my feet and got it about me and over my -head and eyes. Abruptly he closed the shutters again, snapped one open again -and closed it, then suddenly began snapping them all open, each safely into its -steel roller. There came a jar, and then we were rolling over and over, bumping -against the glass and against the big bale of our luggage, and clutching at -each other, and outside some white substance splashed as if we were rolling -down a slope of snow.... -</p> - -<p> -Over, clutch, bump, clutch, bump, over.... -</p> - -<p> -Came a thud, and I was half buried under the bale of our possessions, and for a -space everything was still. Then I could hear Cavor puffing and grunting, and -the snapping of a shutter in its sash. I made an effort, thrust back our -blanket-wrapped luggage, and emerged from beneath it. Our open windows were -just visible as a deeper black set with stars. -</p> - -<p> -We were still alive, and we were lying in the darkness of the shadow of the -wall of the great crater into which we had fallen. -</p> - -<p> -We sat getting our breath again, and feeling the bruises on our limbs. I -don’t think either of us had had a very clear expectation of such rough -handling as we had received. I struggled painfully to my feet. “And -now,” said I, “to look at the landscape of the moon! But—! -It’s tremendously dark, Cavor!” -</p> - -<p> -The glass was dewy, and as I spoke I wiped at it with my blanket. -“We’re half an hour or so beyond the day,” he said. “We -must wait.” -</p> - -<p> -It was impossible to distinguish anything. We might have been in a sphere of -steel for all that we could see. My rubbing with the blanket simply smeared the -glass, and as fast as I wiped it, it became opaque again with freshly condensed -moisture mixed with an increasing quantity of blanket hairs. Of course I ought -not to have used the blanket. In my efforts to clear the glass I slipped upon -the damp surface, and hurt my shin against one of the oxygen cylinders that -protruded from our bale. -</p> - -<p> -The thing was exasperating—it was absurd. Here we were just arrived upon -the moon, amidst we knew not what wonders, and all we could see was the grey -and streaming wall of the bubble in which we had come. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said, “but at this rate we might have -stopped at home;” and I squatted on the bale and shivered, and drew my -blanket closer about me. -</p> - -<p> -Abruptly the moisture turned to spangles and fronds of frost. “Can you -reach the electric heater,” said Cavor. “Yes—that black knob. -Or we shall freeze.” -</p> - -<p> -I did not wait to be told twice. “And now,” said I, “what are -we to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Wait,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course. We shall have to wait until our air gets warm again, and then -this glass will clear. We can’t do anything till then. It’s night -here yet; we must wait for the day to overtake us. Meanwhile, don’t you -feel hungry?” -</p> - -<p> -For a space I did not answer him, but sat fretting. I turned reluctantly from -the smeared puzzle of the glass and stared at his face. “Yes,” I -said, “I am hungry. I feel somehow enormously disappointed. I had -expected—I don’t know what I had expected, but not this.” -</p> - -<p> -I summoned my philosophy, and rearranging my blanket about me sat down on the -bale again and began my first meal on the moon. I don’t think I finished -it—I forget. Presently, first in patches, then running rapidly together -into wider spaces, came the clearing of the glass, came the drawing of the -misty veil that hid the moon world from our eyes. -</p> - -<p> -We peered out upon the landscape of the moon. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap07"></a>VII.<br /> -Sunrise on the Moon</h2> - -<p> -As we saw it first it was the wildest and most desolate of scenes. We were in -an enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain, the floor of the giant crater. -Its cliff-like walls closed us in on every side. From the westward the light of -the unseen sun fell upon them, reaching to the very foot of the cliff, and -showed a disordered escarpment of drab and greyish rock, lined here and there -with banks and crevices of snow. This was perhaps a dozen miles away, but at -first no intervening atmosphere diminished in the slightest the minutely -detailed brilliancy with which these things glared at us. They stood out clear -and dazzling against a background of starry blackness that seemed to our -earthly eyes rather a gloriously spangled velvet curtain than the spaciousness -of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -The eastward cliff was at first merely a starless selvedge to the starry dome. -No rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the commencing day. Only the -Corona, the Zodiacal light, a huge cone-shaped, luminous haze, pointing up -towards the splendour of the morning star, warned us of the imminent nearness -of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -Whatever light was about us was reflected by the westward cliffs. It showed a -huge undulating plain, cold and grey, a grey that deepened eastward into the -absolute raven darkness of the cliff shadow. Innumerable rounded grey summits, -ghostly hummocks, billows of snowy substance, stretching crest beyond crest -into the remote obscurity, gave us our first inkling of the distance of the -crater wall. These hummocks looked like snow. At the time I thought they were -snow. But they were not—they were mounds and masses of frozen air. -</p> - -<p> -So it was at first; and then, sudden, swift, and amazing, came the lunar day. -</p> - -<p> -The sunlight had crept down the cliff, it touched the drifted masses at its -base and incontinently came striding with seven-leagued boots towards us. The -distant cliff seemed to shift and quiver, and at the touch of the dawn a reek -of grey vapour poured upward from the crater floor, whirls and puffs and -drifting wraiths of grey, thicker and broader and denser, until at last the -whole westward plain was steaming like a wet handkerchief held before the fire, -and the westward cliffs were no more than refracted glare beyond. -</p> - -<p> -“It is air,” said Cavor. “It must be air—or it would -not rise like this—at the mere touch of a sun-beam. And at this -pace....” -</p> - -<p> -He peered upwards. “Look!” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“What?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“In the sky. Already. On the blackness—a little touch of blue. See! -The stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim nebulosities we -saw in empty space—they are hidden!” -</p> - -<p> -Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. Grey summit after grey summit was -overtaken by the blaze, and turned to a smoking white intensity. At last there -was nothing to the west of us but a bank of surging fog, the tumultuous advance -and ascent of cloudy haze. The distant cliff had receded farther and farther, -had loomed and changed through the whirl, and foundered and vanished at last in -its confusion. -</p> - -<p> -Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer and nearer, coming as fast as the -shadow of a cloud before the south-west wind. About us rose a thin anticipatory -haze. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor gripped my arm. “What?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Look! The sunrise! The sun!” -</p> - -<p> -He turned me about and pointed to the brow of the eastward cliff, looming above -the haze about us, scarce lighter than the darkness of the sky. But now its -line was marked by strange reddish shapes, tongues of vermilion flame that -writhed and danced. I fancied it must be spirals of vapour that had caught the -light and made this crest of fiery tongues against the sky, but indeed it was -the solar prominences I saw, a crown of fire about the sun that is forever -hidden from earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil. -</p> - -<p> -And then—the sun! -</p> - -<p> -Steadily, inevitably came a brilliant line, came a thin edge of intolerable -effulgence that took a circular shape, became a bow, became a blazing sceptre, -and hurled a shaft of heat at us as though it was a spear. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed verily to stab my eyes! I cried aloud and turned about blinded, -groping for my blanket beneath the bale. -</p> - -<p> -And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had reached us -from without since we left the earth, a hissing and rustling, the stormy -trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing day. And with the coming of the -sound and the light the sphere lurched, and blinded and dazzled we staggered -helplessly against each other. It lurched again, and the hissing grew louder. I -had shut my eyes perforce, I was making clumsy efforts to cover my head with my -blanket, and this second lurch sent me helplessly off my feet. I fell against -the bale, and opening my eyes had a momentary glimpse of the air just outside -our glass. It was running—it was boiling—like snow into which a -white-hot rod is thrust. What had been solid air had suddenly at the touch of -the sun become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquefaction, that hissed and bubbled -into gas. -</p> - -<p> -There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched one -another. In another moment we were spun about again. Round we went and over, -and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had hold of us. It meant to show us -little men what the moon could do with us. -</p> - -<p> -I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half liquid -slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We dropped into darkness. I went -down with Cavor’s knees in my chest. Then he seemed to fly away from me, -and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my body staring upward. A -toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed over us, buried us, and now it -thinned and boiled off us. I saw the bubbles dancing on the glass above. I -heard Cavor exclaiming feebly. -</p> - -<p> -Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and spluttering -expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling faster and faster, -leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster and faster, westward into -the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar day. -</p> - -<p> -Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our bale of -packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We collided, we gripped, we were torn -asunder—our heads met, and the whole universe burst into fiery darts and -stars! On the earth we should have smashed one another a dozen times, but on -the moon, luckily for us, our weight was only one-sixth of what it is -terrestrially, and we fell very mercifully. I recall a sensation of utter -sickness, a feeling as if my brain were upside down within my skull, and -then— -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears. Then I -discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated by blue -spectacles. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, his eyes also -protected by tinted goggles. His breath came irregularly, and his lip was -bleeding from a bruise. “Better?” he said, wiping the blood with -the back of his hand. -</p> - -<p> -Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my giddiness. I -perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the outer sphere to save -me—from the direct blaze of the sun. I was aware that everything about us -was very brilliant. -</p> - -<p> -“Lord!” I gasped. “But this—” -</p> - -<p> -I craned my neck to see. I perceived there was a blinding glare outside, an -utter change from the gloomy darkness of our first impressions. “Have I -been insensible long?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know—the chronometer is broken. Some little time.... -My dear chap! I have been afraid...” -</p> - -<p> -I lay for a space taking this in. I saw his face still bore evidences of -emotion. For a while I said nothing. I passed an inquisitive hand over my -contusions, and surveyed his face for similar damages. The back of my right -hand had suffered most, and was skinless and raw. My forehead was bruised and -had bled. He handed me a little measure with some of the restorative—I -forget the name of it—he had brought with us. After a time I felt a -little better. I began to stretch my limbs carefully. Soon I could talk. -</p> - -<p> -“It wouldn’t have done,” I said, as though there had been no -interval. -</p> - -<p> -“No! it <i>wouldn’t</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -He thought, his hands hanging over his knees. He peered through the glass and -then stared at me. “Good Lord!” he said. “<i>No!</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“What has happened?” I asked after a pause. “Have we jumped -to the tropics?” -</p> - -<p> -“It was as I expected. This air has evaporated—if it is air. At any -rate, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are lying -on a bank of earthy rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed. A queer sort of -soil!” -</p> - -<p> -It occurred to him that it was unnecessary to explain. He assisted me into a -sitting position, and I could see with my own eyes. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap08"></a>VIII.<br /> -A Lunar Morning</h2> - -<p> -The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and white of scenery had altogether -disappeared. The glare of the sun had taken upon itself a faint tinge of amber; -the shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall were deeply purple. To the -eastward a dark bank of fog still crouched and sheltered from the sunrise, but -to the westward the sky was blue and clear. I began to realise the length of my -insensibility. -</p> - -<p> -We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had arisen about us. The outline of -things had gained in character, had grown acute and varied; save for a shadowed -space of white substance here and there, white substance that was no longer air -but snow, the arctic appearance had gone altogether. Everywhere broad rusty -brown spaces of bare and tumbled earth spread to the blaze of the sun. Here and -there at the edge of the snowdrifts were transient little pools and eddies of -water, the only things stirring in that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight -inundated the upper two blinds of our sphere and turned our climate to high -summer, but our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was lying upon a -drift of snow. -</p> - -<p> -And scattered here and there upon the slope, and emphasised by little white -threads of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, were shapes like sticks, dry -twisted sticks of the same rusty hue as the rock upon which they lay. That -caught one’s thoughts sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless world? Then as my -eye grew more accustomed to the texture of their substance, I perceived that -almost all this surface had a fibrous texture, like the carpet of brown needles -one finds beneath the shade of pine trees. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“It may be a dead world now—but once—” -</p> - -<p> -Something arrested my attention. I had discovered among these needles a number -of little round objects. And it seemed to me that one of these had moved. -“Cavor,” I whispered. -</p> - -<p> -“What?” -</p> - -<p> -But I did not answer at once. I stared incredulous. For an instant I could not -believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. I gripped his arm. I pointed. -“Look!” I cried, finding my tongue. “There! Yes! And -there!” -</p> - -<p> -His eyes followed my pointing finger. “Eh?” he said. -</p> - -<p> -How can I describe the thing I saw? It is so petty a thing to state, and yet it -seemed so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I have said that amidst the -stick-like litter were these rounded bodies, these little oval bodies that -might have passed as very small pebbles. And now first one and then another had -stirred, had rolled over and cracked, and down the crack of each of them showed -a minute line of yellowish green, thrusting outward to meet the hot -encouragement of the newly-risen sun. For a moment that was all, and then there -stirred, and burst a third! -</p> - -<p> -“It is a seed,” said Cavor. And then I heard him whisper very -softly, “<i>Life!</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“Life!” And immediately it poured upon us that our vast journey had -not been made in vain, that we had come to no arid waste of minerals, but to a -world that lived and moved! We watched intensely. I remember I kept rubbing the -glass before me with my sleeve, jealous of the faintest suspicion of mist. -</p> - -<p> -The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field. All about that -centre the dead fibres and seeds were magnified and distorted by the curvature -of the glass. But we could see enough! One after another all down the sunlit -slope these miraculous little brown bodies burst and gaped apart, like -seed-pods, like the husks of fruits; opened eager mouths that drank in the -heat and light pouring in a cascade from the newly-risen sun. -</p> - -<p> -Every moment more of these seed coats ruptured, and even as they did so the -swelling pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed-cases, and passed into -the second stage of growth. With a steady assurance, a swift deliberation, -these amazing seeds thrust a rootlet downward to the earth and a queer little -bundle-like bud into the air. In a little while the whole slope was dotted with -minute plantlets standing at attention in the blaze of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled and strained and -opened with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little sharp tips, spreading a -whorl of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves, that lengthened rapidly, lengthened -visibly even as we watched. The movement was slower than any animal’s, -swifter than any plant’s I have ever seen before. How can I suggest it to -you—the way that growth went on? The leaf tips grew so that they moved -onward even while we looked at them. The brown seed-case shrivelled and was -absorbed with an equal rapidity. Have you ever on a cold day taken a -thermometer into your warm hand and watched the little thread of mercury creep -up the tube? These moon plants grew like that. -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds of the more forward of these plants -had lengthened into a stem and were even putting forth a second whorl of -leaves, and all the slope that had seemed so recently a lifeless stretch of -litter was now dark with the stunted olive-green herbage of bristling spikes -that swayed with the vigour of their growing. -</p> - -<p> -I turned about, and behold! along the upper edge of a rock to the eastward a -similar fringe in a scarcely less forward condition swayed and bent, dark -against the blinding glare of the sun. And beyond this fringe was the -silhouette of a plant mass, branching clumsily like a cactus, and swelling -visibly, swelling like a bladder that fills with air. -</p> - -<p> -Then to the westward also I discovered that another such distended form was -rising over the scrub. But here the light fell upon its sleek sides, and I -could see that its colour was a vivid orange hue. It rose as one watched it; if -one looked away from it for a minute and then back, its outline had changed; it -thrust out blunt congested branches until in a little time it rose a coralline -shape of many feet in height. Compared with such a growth the terrestrial -puff-ball, which will sometimes swell a foot in diameter in a single night, -would be a hopeless laggard. But then the puff-ball grows against a -gravitational pull six times that of the moon. Beyond, out of gullies and flats -that had been hidden from us, but not from the quickening sun, over reefs and -banks of shining rock, a bristling beard of spiky and fleshy vegetation was -straining into view, hurrying tumultuously to take advantage of the brief day -in which it must flower and fruit and seed again and die. It was like a -miracle, that growth. So, one must imagine, the trees and plants arose at the -Creation and covered the desolation of the new-made earth. -</p> - -<p> -Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The resurrection of the frozen air, the stirring -and quickening of the soil, and then this silent uprising of vegetation, this -unearthly ascent of fleshiness and spikes. Conceive it all lit by a blaze that -would make the intensest sunlight of earth seem watery and weak. And still -around this stirring jungle, wherever there was shadow, lingered banks of -bluish snow. And to have the picture of our impression complete, you must bear -in mind that we saw it all through a thick bent glass, distorting it as things -are distorted by a lens, acute only in the centre of the picture, and very -bright there, and towards the edges magnified and unreal. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap09"></a>IX.<br /> -Prospecting Begins</h2> - -<p> -We ceased to gaze. We turned to each other, the same thought, the same question -in our eyes. For these plants to grow, there must be some air, however -attenuated, air that we also should be able to breathe. -</p> - -<p> -“The manhole?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” said Cavor, “if it is air we see!” -</p> - -<p> -“In a little while,” I said, “these plants will be as high as -we are. Suppose—suppose after all— Is it certain? How do you know -that stuff <i>is</i> air? It may be nitrogen—it may be carbonic acid -even!” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s easy,” he said, and set about proving it. He produced -a big piece of crumpled paper from the bale, lit it, and thrust it hastily -through the man-hole valve. I bent forward and peered down through the thick -glass for its appearance outside, that little flame on whose evidence depended -so much! -</p> - -<p> -I saw the paper drop out and lie lightly upon the snow. The pink flame of its -burning vanished. For an instant it seemed to be extinguished. And then I saw a -little blue tongue upon the edge of it that trembled, and crept, and spread! -</p> - -<p> -Quietly the whole sheet, save where it lay in immediate contact with the snow, -charred and shrivelled and sent up a quivering thread of smoke. There was no -doubt left to me; the atmosphere of the moon was either pure oxygen or air, and -capable therefore—unless its tenuity was excessive—of supporting -our alien life. We might emerge—and live! -</p> - -<p> -I sat down with my legs on either side of the manhole and prepared to unscrew -it, but Cavor stopped me. “There is first a little precaution,” he -said. He pointed out that although it was certainly an oxygenated atmosphere -outside, it might still be so rarefied as to cause us grave injury. He reminded -me of mountain sickness, and of the bleeding that often afflicts aeronauts who -have ascended too swiftly, and he spent some time in the preparation of a -sickly-tasting drink which he insisted on my sharing. It made me feel a little -numb, but otherwise had no effect on me. Then he permitted me to begin -unscrewing. -</p> - -<p> -Presently the glass stopper of the manhole was so far undone that the denser -air within our sphere began to escape along the thread of the screw, singing as -a kettle sings before it boils. Thereupon he made me desist. It speedily became -evident that the pressure outside was very much less than it was within. How -much less it was we had no means of telling. -</p> - -<p> -I sat grasping the stopper with both hands, ready to close it again if, in -spite of our intense hope, the lunar atmosphere should after all prove too -rarefied for us, and Cavor sat with a cylinder of compressed oxygen at hand to -restore our pressure. We looked at one another in silence, and then at the -fantastic vegetation that swayed and grew visibly and noiselessly without. And -ever that shrill piping continued. -</p> - -<p> -My blood-vessels began to throb in my ears, and the sound of Cavor’s -movements diminished. I noted how still everything had become, because of the -thinning of the air. -</p> - -<p> -As our air sizzled out from the screw the moisture of it condensed in little -puffs. -</p> - -<p> -Presently I experienced a peculiar shortness of breath that lasted indeed -during the whole of the time of our exposure to the moon’s exterior -atmosphere, and a rather unpleasant sensation about the ears and finger-nails -and the back of the throat grew upon my attention, and presently passed off -again. -</p> - -<p> -But then came vertigo and nausea that abruptly changed the quality of my -courage. I gave the lid of the manhole half a turn and made a hasty explanation -to Cavor; but now he was the more sanguine. He answered me in a voice that -seemed extraordinarily small and remote, because of the thinness of the air -that carried the sound. He recommended a nip of brandy, and set me the example, -and presently I felt better. I turned the manhole stopper back again. The -throbbing in my ears grew louder, and then I remarked that the piping note of -the outrush had ceased. For a time I could not be sure that it had ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” said Cavor, in the ghost of a voice. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“Shall we go on?” -</p> - -<p> -I thought. “Is this all?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you can stand it.” -</p> - -<p> -By way of answer I went on unscrewing. I lifted the circular operculum from its -place and laid it carefully on the bale. A flake or so of snow whirled and -vanished as that thin and unfamiliar air took possession of our sphere. I -knelt, and then seated myself at the edge of the manhole, peering over it. -Beneath, within a yard of my face, lay the untrodden snow of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -There came a little pause. Our eyes met. -</p> - -<p> -“It doesn’t distress your lungs too much?” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said. “I can stand this.” -</p> - -<p> -He stretched out his hand for his blanket, thrust his head through its central -hole, and wrapped it about him. He sat down on the edge of the manhole, he let -his feet drop until they were within six inches of the lunar ground. He -hesitated for a moment, then thrust himself forward, dropped these intervening -inches, and stood upon the untrodden soil of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -As he stepped forward he was refracted grotesquely by the edge of the glass. He -stood for a moment looking this way and that. Then he drew himself together and -leapt. -</p> - -<p> -The glass distorted everything, but it seemed to me even then to be an -extremely big leap. He had at one bound become remote. He seemed twenty or -thirty feet off. He was standing high upon a rocky mass and gesticulating back -to me. Perhaps he was shouting—but the sound did not reach me. But how -the deuce had he done this? I felt like a man who has just seen a new conjuring -trick. -</p> - -<p> -In a puzzled state of mind I too dropped through the manhole. I stood up. Just -in front of me the snowdrift had fallen away and made a sort of ditch. I made a -step and jumped. -</p> - -<p> -I found myself flying through the air, saw the rock on which he stood coming to -meet me, clutched it and clung in a state of infinite amazement. -</p> - -<p> -I gasped a painful laugh. I was tremendously confused. Cavor bent down and -shouted in piping tones for me to be careful. -</p> - -<p> -I had forgotten that on the moon, with only an eighth part of the earth’s -mass and a quarter of its diameter, my weight was barely a sixth what it was on -earth. But now that fact insisted on being remembered. -</p> - -<p> -“We are out of Mother Earth’s leading-strings now,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -With a guarded effort I raised myself to the top, and moving as cautiously as a -rheumatic patient, stood up beside him under the blaze of the sun. The sphere -lay behind us on its dwindling snowdrift thirty feet away. -</p> - -<p> -As far as the eye could see over the enormous disorder of rocks that formed the -crater floor, the same bristling scrub that surrounded us was starting into -life, diversified here and there by bulging masses of a cactus form, and -scarlet and purple lichens that grew so fast they seemed to crawl over the -rocks. The whole area of the crater seemed to me then to be one similar -wilderness up to the very foot of the surrounding cliff. -</p> - -<p> -This cliff was apparently bare of vegetation save at its base, and with -buttresses and terraces and platforms that did not very greatly attract our -attention at the time. It was many miles away from us in every direction; we -seemed to be almost at the centre of the crater, and we saw it through a -certain haziness that drove before the wind. For there was even a wind now in -the thin air, a swift yet weak wind that chilled exceedingly but exerted little -pressure. It was blowing round the crater, as it seemed, to the hot illuminated -side from the foggy darkness under the sunward wall. It was difficult to look -into this eastward fog; we had to peer with half-closed eyes beneath the shade -of our hands, because of the fierce intensity of the motionless sun. -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to be deserted,” said Cavor, “absolutely -desolate.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked about me again. I retained even then a clinging hope of some -quasi-human evidence, some pinnacle of building, some house or engine, but -everywhere one looked spread the tumbled rocks in peaks and crests, and the -darting scrub and those bulging cacti that swelled and swelled, a flat negation -as it seemed of all such hope. -</p> - -<p> -“It looks as though these plants had it to themselves,” I said. -“I see no trace of any other creature.” -</p> - -<p> -“No insects—no birds, no! Not a trace, not a scrap nor particle of -animal life. If there was—what would they do in the night? ... No; -there’s just these plants alone.” -</p> - -<p> -I shaded my eyes with my hand. “It’s like the landscape of a dream. -These things are less like earthly land plants than the things one imagines -among the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Look at that yonder! One might -imagine it a lizard changed into a plant. And the glare!” -</p> - -<p> -“This is only the fresh morning,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -He sighed and looked about him. “This is no world for men,” he -said. “And yet in a way—it appeals.” -</p> - -<p> -He became silent for a time, then commenced his meditative humming. -</p> - -<p> -I started at a gentle touch, and found a thin sheet of livid lichen lapping -over my shoe. I kicked at it and it fell to powder, and each speck began to -grow. -</p> - -<p> -I heard Cavor exclaim sharply, and perceived that one of the fixed bayonets of -the scrub had pricked him. He hesitated, his eyes sought among the rocks about -us. A sudden blaze of pink had crept up a ragged pillar of crag. It was a most -extraordinary pink, a livid magenta. -</p> - -<p> -“Look!” said I, turning, and behold Cavor had vanished. -</p> - -<p> -For an instant I stood transfixed. Then I made a hasty step to look over the -verge of the rock. But in my surprise at his disappearance I forgot once more -that we were on the moon. The thrust of my foot that I made in striding would -have carried me a yard on earth; on the moon it carried me six—a good -five yards over the edge. For the moment the thing had something of the effect -of those nightmares when one falls and falls. For while one falls sixteen feet -in the first second of a fall on earth, on the moon one falls two, and with -only a sixth of one’s weight. I fell, or rather I jumped down, about ten -yards I suppose. It seemed to take quite a long time, five or six seconds, I -should think. I floated through the air and fell like a feather, knee-deep in a -snow-drift in the bottom of a gully of blue-grey, white-veined rock. -</p> - -<p> -I looked about me. “Cavor!” I cried; but no Cavor was visible. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I cried louder, and the rocks echoed me. -</p> - -<p> -I turned fiercely to the rocks and clambered to the summit of them. -“Cavor!” I cried. My voice sounded like the voice of a lost lamb. -</p> - -<p> -The sphere, too, was not in sight, and for a moment a horrible feeling of -desolation pinched my heart. -</p> - -<p> -Then I saw him. He was laughing and gesticulating to attract my attention. He -was on a bare patch of rock twenty or thirty yards away. I could not hear his -voice, but “jump” said his gestures. I hesitated, the distance -seemed enormous. Yet I reflected that surely I must be able to clear a greater -distance than Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -I made a step back, gathered myself together, and leapt with all my might. I -seemed to shoot right up in the air as though I should never come down. -</p> - -<p> -It was horrible and delightful, and as wild as a nightmare, to go flying off in -this fashion. I realised my leap had been altogether too violent. I flew clean -over Cavor’s head and beheld a spiky confusion in a gully spreading to -meet my fall. I gave a yelp of alarm. I put out my hands and straightened my -legs. -</p> - -<p> -I hit a huge fungoid bulk that burst all about me, scattering a mass of orange -spores in every direction, and covering me with orange powder. I rolled over -spluttering, and came to rest convulsed with breathless laughter. -</p> - -<p> -I became aware of Cavor’s little round face peering over a bristling -hedge. He shouted some faded inquiry. “Eh?” I tried to shout, but -could not do so for want of breath. He made his way towards me, coming gingerly -among the bushes. -</p> - -<p> -“We’ve got to be careful,” he said. “This moon has no -discipline. She’ll let us smash ourselves.” -</p> - -<p> -He helped me to my feet. “You exerted yourself too much,” he said, -dabbing at the yellow stuff with his hand to remove it from my garments. -</p> - -<p> -I stood passive and panting, allowing him to beat off the jelly from my knees -and elbows and lecture me upon my misfortunes. “We don’t quite -allow for the gravitation. Our muscles are scarcely educated yet. We must -practise a little, when you have got your breath.” -</p> - -<p> -I pulled two or three little thorns out of my hand, and sat for a time on a -boulder of rock. My muscles were quivering, and I had that feeling of personal -disillusionment that comes at the first fall to the learner of cycling on -earth. -</p> - -<p> -It suddenly occurred to Cavor that the cold air in the gully, after the -brightness of the sun, might give me a fever. So we clambered back into the -sunlight. We found that beyond a few abrasions I had received no serious -injuries from my tumble, and at Cavor’s suggestion we were presently -looking round for some safe and easy landing-place for my next leap. We chose a -rocky slab some ten yards off, separated from us by a little thicket of -olive-green spikes. -</p> - -<p> -“Imagine it there!” said Cavor, who was assuming the airs of a -trainer, and he pointed to a spot about four feet from my toes. This leap I -managed without difficulty, and I must confess I found a certain satisfaction -in Cavor’s falling short by a foot or so and tasting the spikes of the -scrub. “One has to be careful, you see,” he said, pulling out his -thorns, and with that he ceased to be my mentor and became my fellow-learner in -the art of lunar locomotion. -</p> - -<p> -We chose a still easier jump and did it without difficulty, and then leapt back -again, and to and fro several times, accustoming our muscles to the new -standard. I could never have believed had I not experienced it, how rapid that -adaptation would be. In a very little time indeed, certainly after fewer than -thirty leaps, we could judge the effort necessary for a distance with almost -terrestrial assurance. -</p> - -<p> -And all this time the lunar plants were growing around us, higher and denser -and more entangled, every moment thicker and taller, spiked plants, green -cactus masses, fungi, fleshy and lichenous things, strangest radiate and -sinuous shapes. But we were so intent upon our leaping, that for a time we gave -no heed to their unfaltering expansion. -</p> - -<p> -An extraordinary elation had taken possession of us. Partly, I think, it was -our sense of release from the confinement of the sphere. Mainly, however, the -thin sweetness of the air, which I am certain contained a much larger -proportion of oxygen than our terrestrial atmosphere. In spite of the strange -quality of all about us, I felt as adventurous and experimental as a cockney -would do placed for the first time among mountains and I do not think it -occurred to either of us, face to face though we were with the unknown, to be -very greatly afraid. -</p> - -<p> -We were bitten by a spirit of enterprise. We selected a lichenous kopje perhaps -fifteen yards away, and landed neatly on its summit one after the other. -“Good!” we cried to each other; “good!” and Cavor made -three steps and went off to a tempting slope of snow a good twenty yards and -more beyond. I stood for a moment struck by the grotesque effect of his soaring -figure—his dirty cricket cap, and spiky hair, his little round body, his -arms and his knicker-bockered legs tucked up tightly—against the weird -spaciousness of the lunar scene. A gust of laughter seized me, and then I -stepped off to follow. Plump! I dropped beside him. -</p> - -<p> -We made a few gargantuan strides, leapt three or four times more, and sat down -at last in a lichenous hollow. Our lungs were painful. We sat holding our sides -and recovering our breath, looking appreciation to one another. Cavor panted -something about “amazing sensations.” And then came a thought into -my head. For the moment it did not seem a particularly appalling thought, -simply a natural question arising out of the situation. -</p> - -<p> -“By the way,” I said, “where exactly is the sphere?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor looked at me. “Eh?” -</p> - -<p> -The full meaning of what we were saying struck me sharply. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I cried, laying a hand on his arm, “where is the -sphere?” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap10"></a>X.<br /> -Lost Men in the Moon</h2> - -<p> -His face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about him at the -scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward in a passion of -growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke with a sudden lack of -assurance. “I think,” he said slowly, “we left it ... -somewhere ... about <i>there</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not sure.” His look of consternation deepened. -“Anyhow,” he said, with his eyes on me, “it can’t be -far.” -</p> - -<p> -We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought in the -twining, thickening jungle round about us. -</p> - -<p> -All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed and swayed the darting shrubs, the -swelling cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever the shade remained the -snow-drifts lingered. North, south, east, and west spread an identical monotony -of unfamiliar forms. And somewhere, buried already among this tangled -confusion, was our sphere, our home, our only provision, our only hope of -escape from this fantastic wilderness of ephemeral growths into which we had -come. -</p> - -<p> -“I think after all,” he said, pointing suddenly, “it might be -over there.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said. “We have turned in a curve. See! here is the -mark of my heels. It’s clear the thing must be more to the eastward, much -more. No—the sphere must be over there.” -</p> - -<p> -“I <i>think</i>,” said Cavor, “I kept the sun upon my right -all the time.” -</p> - -<p> -“Every leap, it seems to <i>me</i>,” I said, “my shadow flew -before me.” -</p> - -<p> -We stared into one another’s eyes. The area of the crater had become -enormously vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets already impenetrably -dense. -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens! What fools we have been!” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s evident that we must find it again,” said Cavor, -“and that soon. The sun grows stronger. We should be fainting with the -heat already if it wasn’t so dry. And ... I’m hungry.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared at him. I had not suspected this aspect of the matter before. But it -came to me at once—a positive craving. “Yes,” I said with -emphasis. “I am hungry too.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood up with a look of active resolution. “Certainly we must find the -sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -As calmly as possible we surveyed the interminable reefs and thickets that -formed the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in silence the chances of -our finding the sphere before we were overtaken by heat and hunger. -</p> - -<p> -“It can’t be fifty yards from here,” said Cavor, with -indecisive gestures. “The only thing is to beat round about until we come -upon it.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is all we can do,” I said, without any alacrity to begin our -hunt. “I wish this confounded spike bush did not grow so fast!” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s just it,” said Cavor. “But it was lying on a -bank of snow.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared about me in the vain hope of recognising some knoll or shrub that had -been near the sphere. But everywhere was a confusing sameness, everywhere the -aspiring bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling snow banks, steadily and -inevitably changed. The sun scorched and stung, the faintness of an -unaccountable hunger mingled with our infinite perplexity. And even as we stood -there, confused and lost amidst unprecedented things, we became aware for the -first time of a sound upon the moon other than the air of the growing plants, -the faint sighing of the wind, or those that we ourselves had made. -</p> - -<p> -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. -</p> - -<p> -It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear it with -our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull resonance was muffled by distance, -thick with the quality of intervening substance. No sound that I can imagine -could have astonished us more, or have changed more completely the quality of -things about us. For this sound, rich, slow, and deliberate, seemed to us as -though it could be nothing but the striking of some gigantic buried clock. -</p> - -<p> -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. -</p> - -<p> -Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleepless nights in crowded cities, of -vigils and the awaited hour, of all that is orderly and methodical in life, -booming out pregnant and mysterious in this fantastic desert! To the eye -everything was unchanged: the desolation of bushes and cacti waving silently in -the wind, stretched unbroken to the distant cliffs, the still dark sky was -empty overhead, and the hot sun hung and burned. And through it all, a warning, -a threat, throbbed this enigma of sound. -</p> - -<p> -Boom.... Boom.... Boom.... -</p> - -<p> -We questioned one another in faint and faded voices. -</p> - -<p> -“A clock?” -</p> - -<p> -“Like a clock!” -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“What can it be?” -</p> - -<p> -“Count,” was Cavor’s belated suggestion, and at that word the -striking ceased. -</p> - -<p> -The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a fresh shock. -For a moment one could doubt whether one had ever heard a sound. Or whether it -might not still be going on. Had I indeed heard a sound? -</p> - -<p> -I felt the pressure of Cavor’s hand upon my arm. He spoke in an -undertone, as though he feared to wake some sleeping thing. “Let us keep -together,” he whispered, “and look for the sphere. We must get back -to the sphere. This is beyond our understanding.” -</p> - -<p> -“Which way shall we go?” -</p> - -<p> -He hesitated. An intense persuasion of presences, of unseen things about us and -near us, dominated our minds. What could they be? Where could they be? Was this -arid desolation, alternately frozen and scorched, only the outer rind and mask -of some subterranean world? And if so, what sort of world? What sort of -inhabitants might it not presently disgorge upon us? -</p> - -<p> -And then, stabbing the aching stillness as vivid and sudden as an unexpected -thunderclap, came a clang and rattle as though great gates of metal had -suddenly been flung apart. -</p> - -<p> -It arrested our steps. We stood gaping helplessly. Then Cavor stole towards me. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not understand!” he whispered close to my face. He waved his -hand vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of still vaguer thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -“A hiding-place! If anything came...” -</p> - -<p> -I looked about us. I nodded my head in assent to him. -</p> - -<p> -We started off, moving stealthily with the most exaggerated precautions against -noise. We went towards a thicket of scrub. A clangour like hammers flung about -a boiler hastened our steps. “We must crawl,” whispered Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -The lower leaves of the bayonet plants, already overshadowed by the newer ones -above, were beginning to wilt and shrivel so that we could thrust our way in -among the thickening stems without serious injury. A stab in the face or arm we -did not heed. At the heart of the thicket I stopped, and stared panting into -Cavor’s face. -</p> - -<p> -“Subterranean,” he whispered. “Below.” -</p> - -<p> -“They may come out.” -</p> - -<p> -“We must find the sphere!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” I said; “but how?” -</p> - -<p> -“Crawl till we come to it.” -</p> - -<p> -“But if we don’t?” -</p> - -<p> -“Keep hidden. See what they are like.” -</p> - -<p> -“We will keep together,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He thought. “Which way shall we go?” -</p> - -<p> -“We must take our chance.” -</p> - -<p> -We peered this way and that. Then very circumspectly, we began to crawl through -the lower jungle, making, so far as we could judge, a circuit, halting now at -every waving fungus, at every sound, intent only on the sphere from which we -had so foolishly emerged. Ever and again from out of the earth beneath us came -concussions, beatings, strange, inexplicable, mechanical sounds; and once, and -then again, we thought we heard something, a faint rattle and tumult, borne to -us through the air. But fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage-point to -survey the crater. For long we saw nothing of the beings whose sounds were so -abundant and insistent. But for the faintness of our hunger and the drying of -our throats that crawling would have had the quality of a very vivid dream. It -was so absolutely unreal. The only element with any touch of reality was these -sounds. -</p> - -<p> -Picture it to yourself! About us the dream-like jungle, with the silent bayonet -leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, sun-splashed lichens under our -hands and knees, waving with the vigour of their growth as a carpet waves when -the wind gets beneath it. Ever and again one of the bladder fungi, bulging and -distending under the sun, loomed upon us. Ever and again some novel shape in -vivid colour obtruded. The very cells that built up these plants were as large -as my thumb, like beads of coloured glass. And all these things were saturated -in the unmitigated glare of the sun, were seen against a sky that was bluish -black and spangled still, in spite of the sunlight, with a few surviving stars. -Strange! the very forms and texture of the stones were strange. It was all -strange, the feeling of one’s body was unprecedented, every other -movement ended in a surprise. The breath sucked thin in one’s throat, the -blood flowed through one’s ears in a throbbing tide—thud, thud, -thud, thud.... -</p> - -<p> -And ever and again came gusts of turmoil, hammering, the clanging and throb of -machinery, and presently—the bellowing of great beasts! -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap11"></a>XI.<br /> -The Mooncalf Pastures</h2> - -<p> -So we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in that wild-growing moon jungle, -crawled in terror before the sounds that had come upon us. We crawled, as it -seemed, a long time before we saw either Selenite or mooncalf, though we heard -the bellowing and gruntulous noises of these latter continually drawing nearer -to us. We crawled through stony ravines, over snow slopes, amidst fungi that -ripped like thin bladders at our thrust, emitting a watery humour, over a -perfect pavement of things like puff-balls, and beneath interminable thickets -of scrub. And ever more helplessly our eyes sought for our abandoned sphere. -The noise of the mooncalves would at times be a vast flat calf-like sound, at -times it rose to an amazed and wrathy bellowing, and again it would become a -clogged bestial sound, as though these unseen creatures had sought to eat and -bellow at the same time. -</p> - -<p> -Our first view was but an inadequate transitory glimpse, yet none the less -disturbing because it was incomplete. Cavor was crawling in front at the time, -and he first was aware of their proximity. He stopped dead, arresting me with a -single gesture. -</p> - -<p> -A crackling and smashing of the scrub appeared to be advancing directly upon -us, and then, as we squatted close and endeavoured to judge of the nearness and -direction of this noise, there came a terrific bellow behind us, so close and -vehement that the tops of the bayonet scrub bent before it, and one felt the -breath of it hot and moist. And, turning about, we saw indistinctly through a -crowd of swaying stems the mooncalf’s shining sides, and the long line of -its back loomed out against the sky. -</p> - -<p> -Of course it is hard for me now to say how much I saw at that time, because my -impressions were corrected by subsequent observation. First of all impressions -was its enormous size; the girth of its body was some fourscore feet, its -length perhaps two hundred. Its sides rose and fell with its laboured -breathing. I perceived that its gigantic, flabby body lay along the ground, and -that its skin was of a corrugated white, dappling into blackness along the -backbone. But of its feet we saw nothing. I think also that we saw then the -profile at least of the almost brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, -its slobbering omnivorous mouth, its little nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For -the mooncalf invariably shuts its eyes in the presence of the sun.) We had a -glimpse of a vast red pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and bellow again; we -had a breath from the pit, and then the monster heeled over like a ship, -dragged forward along the ground, creasing all its leathery skin, rolled again, -and so wallowed past us, smashing a path amidst the scrub, and was speedily -hidden from our eyes by the dense interlacings beyond. Another appeared more -distantly, and then another, and then, as though he was guiding these animated -lumps of provender to their pasture, a Selenite came momentarily into ken. My -grip upon Cavor’s foot became convulsive at the sight of him, and we -remained motionless and peering long after he had passed out of our range. -</p> - -<p> -By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed a trivial being, a mere ant, scarcely -five feet high. He was wearing garments of some leathery substance, so that no -portion of his actual body appeared, but of this, of course, we were entirely -ignorant. He presented himself, therefore, as a compact, bristling creature, -having much of the quality of a complicated insect, with whip-like tentacles -and a clanging arm projecting from his shining cylindrical body case. The form -of his head was hidden by his enormous many-spiked helmet—we discovered -afterwards that he used the spikes for prodding refractory mooncalves—and -a pair of goggles of darkened glass, set very much at the side, gave a -bird-like quality to the metallic apparatus that covered his face. His arms did -not project beyond his body case, and he carried himself upon short legs that, -wrapped though they were in warm coverings, seemed to our terrestrial eyes -inordinately flimsy. They had very short thighs, very long shanks, and little -feet. -</p> - -<p> -In spite of his heavy-looking clothing, he was progressing with what would be, -from the terrestrial point of view, very considerable strides, and his clanging -arm was busy. The quality of his motion during the instant of his passing -suggested haste and a certain anger, and soon after we had lost sight of him we -heard the bellow of a mooncalf change abruptly into a short, sharp squeal -followed by the scuffle of its acceleration. And gradually that bellowing -receded, and then came to an end, as if the pastures sought had been attained. -</p> - -<p> -We listened. For a space the moon world was still. But it was some time before -we resumed our crawling search for the vanished sphere. -</p> - -<p> -When next we saw mooncalves they were some little distance away from us in a -place of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces of the rocks were thick with -a speckled green plant growing in dense mossy clumps, upon which these -creatures were browsing. We stopped at the edge of the reeds amidst which we -were crawling at the sight of them, peering out at then and looking round for a -second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay against their food like stupendous -slugs, huge, greasy hulls, eating greedily and noisily, with a sort of sobbing -avidity. They seemed monsters of mere fatness, clumsy and overwhelmed to a -degree that would make a Smithfield ox seem a model of agility. Their busy, -writhing, chewing mouths, and eyes closed, together with the appetising sound -of their munching, made up an effect of animal enjoyment that was singularly -stimulating to our empty frames. -</p> - -<p> -“Hogs!” said Cavor, with unusual passion. “Disgusting -hogs!” and after one glare of angry envy crawled off through the bushes -to our right. I stayed long enough to see that the speckled plant was quite -hopeless for human nourishment, then crawled after him, nibbling a quill of it -between my teeth. -</p> - -<p> -Presently we were arrested again by the proximity of a Selenite, and this time -we were able to observe him more exactly. Now we could see that the Selenite -covering was indeed clothing, and not a sort of crustacean integument. He was -quite similar in his costume to the former one we had glimpsed, except that -ends of something like wadding were protruding from his neck, and he stood on a -promontory of rock and moved his head this way and that, as though he was -surveying the crater. We lay quite still, fearing to attract his attention if -we moved, and after a time he turned about and disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -We came upon another drove of mooncalves bellowing up a ravine, and then we -passed over a place of sounds, sounds of beating machinery as if some huge hall -of industry came near the surface there. And while these sounds were still -about us we came to the edge of a great open space, perhaps two hundred yards -in diameter, and perfectly level. Save for a few lichens that advanced from its -margin this space was bare, and presented a powdery surface of a dusty yellow -colour. We were afraid to strike out across this space, but as it presented -less obstruction to our crawling than the scrub, we went down upon it and began -very circumspectly to skirt its edge. -</p> - -<p> -For a little while the noises from below ceased and everything, save for the -faint stir of the growing vegetation, was very still. Then abruptly there began -an uproar, louder, more vehement, and nearer than any we had so far heard. Of a -certainty it came from below. Instinctively we crouched as flat as we could, -ready for a prompt plunge into the thicket beside us. Each knock and throb -seemed to vibrate through our bodies. Louder grew this throbbing and beating, -and that irregular vibration increased until the whole moon world seemed to be -jerking and pulsing. -</p> - -<p> -“Cover,” whispered Cavor, and I turned towards the bushes. -</p> - -<p> -At that instant came a thud like the thud of a gun, and then a thing -happened—it still haunts me in my dreams. I had turned my head to look at -Cavor’s face, and thrust out my hand in front of me as I did so. And my -hand met nothing! I plunged suddenly into a bottomless hole! -</p> - -<p> -My chest hit something hard, and I found myself with my chin on the edge of an -unfathomable abyss that had suddenly opened beneath me, my hand extended -stiffly into the void. The whole of that flat circular area was no more than a -gigantic lid, that was now sliding sideways from off the pit it had covered -into a slot prepared for it. -</p> - -<p> -Had it not been for Cavor I think I should have remained rigid, hanging over -this margin and staring into the enormous gulf below, until at last the edges -of the slot scraped me off and hurled me into its depths. But Cavor had not -received the shock that had paralysed me. He had been a little distance from -the edge when the lid had first opened, and perceiving the peril that held me -helpless, gripped my legs and pulled me backward. I came into a sitting -position, crawled away from the edge for a space on all fours, then staggered -up and ran after him across the thundering, quivering sheet of metal. It seemed -to be swinging open with a steadily accelerated velocity, and the bushes in -front of me shifted sideways as I ran. -</p> - -<p> -I was none too soon. Cavor’s back vanished amidst the bristling thicket, -and as I scrambled up after him, the monstrous valve came into its position -with a clang. For a long time we lay panting, not daring to approach the pit. -</p> - -<p> -But at last very cautiously and bit by bit we crept into a position from which -we could peer down. The bushes about us creaked and waved with the force of a -breeze that was blowing down the shaft. We could see nothing at first except -smooth vertical walls descending at last into an impenetrable black. And then -very gradually we became aware of a number of very faint and little lights -going to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery held us so that we forgot even our -sphere. In time, as we grew more accustomed to the darkness, we could make out -very small, dim, elusive shapes moving about among those needle-point -illuminations. We peered amazed and incredulous, understanding so little that -we could find no words to say. We could distinguish nothing that would give us -a clue to the meaning of the faint shapes we saw. -</p> - -<p> -“What can it be?” I asked; “what can it be?” -</p> - -<p> -“The engineering!... They must live in these caverns during the night, -and come out during the day.” -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I said. “Can they be—<i>that</i>—it was -something like—men?” -</p> - -<p> -“<i>That</i> was not a man.” -</p> - -<p> -“We dare risk nothing!” -</p> - -<p> -“We dare do nothing until we find the sphere!” -</p> - -<p> -“We <i>can</i> do nothing until we find the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -He assented with a groan and stirred himself to move. He stared about him for a -space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We struck out through the jungle. For -a time we crawled resolutely, then with diminishing vigour. Presently among -great shapes of flabby purple there came a noise of trampling and cries about -us. We lay close, and for a long time the sounds went to and fro and very near. -But this time we saw nothing. I tried to whisper to Cavor that I could hardly -go without food much longer, but my mouth had become too dry for whispering. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “I must have food.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned a face full of dismay towards me. “It’s a case for -holding out,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“But I <i>must</i>,” I said, “and look at my lips!” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been thirsty some time.” -</p> - -<p> -“If only some of that snow had remained!” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s clean gone! We’re driving from arctic to tropical at -the rate of a degree a minute....” -</p> - -<p> -I gnawed my hand. -</p> - -<p> -“The sphere!” he said. “There is nothing for it but the -sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -We roused ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My mind ran entirely on -edible things, on the hissing profundity of summer drinks, more particularly I -craved for beer. I was haunted by the memory of a sixteen gallon cask that had -swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I thought of the adjacent larder, and especially -of steak and kidney pie—tender steak and plenty of kidney, and rich, -thick gravy between. Ever and again I was seized with fits of hungry yawning. -We came to flat places overgrown with fleshy red things, monstrous coralline -growths; as we pushed against them they snapped and broke. I noted the quality -of the broken surfaces. The confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable -texture. Then it seemed to me that it smelt rather well. -</p> - -<p> -I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said in a hoarse undertone. -</p> - -<p> -He glanced at me with his face screwed up. “Don’t,” he said. -I put down the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for -a space. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I asked, “why <i>not?</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“Poison,” I heard him say, but he did not look round. -</p> - -<p> -We crawled some way before I decided. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll chance it,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He crouched -watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression. “It’s -good,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“O Lord!” he cried. -</p> - -<p> -He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval, then -suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge mouthfuls. For a time -we did nothing but eat. -</p> - -<p> -The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer in -texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we -experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood began to -run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then new and slightly -irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s good,” said I. “Infernally good! What a home for -our surplus population! Our poor surplus population,” and I broke off -another large portion. It filled me with a curiously benevolent satisfaction -that there was such good food in the moon. The depression of my hunger gave way -to an irrational exhilaration. The dread and discomfort in which I had been -living vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no longer as a planet from which -I most earnestly desired the means of escape, but as a possible refuge from -human destitution. I think I forgot the Selenites, the mooncalves, the lid, and -the noises completely so soon as I had eaten that fungus. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor replied to my third repetition of my “surplus population” -remark with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put this -down to the stimulating effect of food after a long fast. “Ess’lent -discov’ry yours, Cavor,” said I. “Se’nd on’y to -the ‘tato.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whajer mean?” asked Cavor. “‘Scovery of the -moon—se’nd on’y to the tato?” -</p> - -<p> -I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly hoarse voice, and by the badness of -his articulation. It occurred to me in a flash that he was intoxicated, -possibly by the fungus. It also occurred to me that he erred in imagining that -he had discovered the moon; he had not discovered it, he had only reached it. I -tried to lay my hand on his arm and explain this to him, but the issue was too -subtle for his brain. It was also unexpectedly difficult to express. After a -momentary attempt to understand me—I remember wondering if the fungus had -made my eyes as fishy as his—he set off upon some observations on his own -account. -</p> - -<p> -“We are,” he announced with a solemn hiccup, “the creashurs -o’ what we eat and drink.” -</p> - -<p> -He repeated this, and as I was now in one of my subtle moods, I determined to -dispute it. Possibly I wandered a little from the point. But Cavor certainly -did not attend at all properly. He stood up as well as he could, putting a hand -on my head to steady himself, which was disrespectful, and stood staring about -him, quite devoid now of any fear of the moon beings. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to point out that this was dangerous for some reason that was not -perfectly clear to me, but the word “dangerous” had somehow got -mixed with “indiscreet,” and came out rather more like -“injurious” than either; and after an attempt to disentangle them, -I resumed my argument, addressing myself principally to the unfamiliar but -attentive coralline growths on either side. I felt that it was necessary to -clear up this confusion between the moon and a potato at once—I wandered -into a long parenthesis on the importance of precision of definition in -argument. I did my best to ignore the fact that my bodily sensations were no -longer agreeable. -</p> - -<p> -In some way that I have now forgotten, my mind was led back to projects of -colonisation. “We must annex this moon,” I said. “There must -be no shilly-shally. This is part of the White Man’s Burthen. -Cavor—we are—<i>hic</i>—Satap—mean Satraps! Nempire -Cæsar never dreamt. B’in all the newspapers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. -Bedfordecia—hic—Limited. Mean—unlimited! Practically.” -</p> - -<p> -Certainly I was intoxicated. -</p> - -<p> -I embarked upon an argument to show the infinite benefits our arrival would -confer on the moon. I involved myself in a rather difficult proof that the -arrival of Columbus was, on the whole, beneficial to America. I found I had -forgotten the line of argument I had intended to pursue, and continued to -repeat “sim’lar to C’lumbus,” to fill up time. -</p> - -<p> -From that point my memory of the action of that abominable fungus becomes -confused. I remember vaguely that we declared our intention of standing no -nonsense from any confounded insects, that we decided it ill became men to hide -shamefully upon a mere satellite, that we equipped ourselves with huge armfuls -of the fungus—whether for missile purposes or not I do not -know—and, heedless of the stabs of the bayonet scrub, we started forth -into the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -Almost immediately we must have come upon the Selenites. There were six of -them, and they were marching in single file over a rocky place, making the most -remarkable piping and whining sounds. They all seemed to become aware of us at -once, all instantly became silent and motionless, like animals, with their -faces turned towards us. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I was sobered. -</p> - -<p> -“Insects,” murmured Cavor, “insects! And they think I’m -going to crawl about on my stomach—on my vertebrated stomach! -</p> - -<p> -“Stomach,” he repeated slowly, as though he chewed the indignity. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly, with a sort of fury, he made three vast strides and leapt -towards them. He leapt badly; he made a series of somersaults in the air, -whirled right over them, and vanished with an enormous splash amidst the cactus -bladders. What the Selenites made of this amazing, and to my mind undignified -irruption from another planet, I have no means of guessing. I seem to remember -the sight of their backs as they ran in all directions, but I am not sure. All -these last incidents before oblivion came are vague and faint in my mind. I -know I made a step to follow Cavor, and tripped and fell headlong among the -rocks. I was, I am certain, suddenly and vehemently ill. I seem to remember a -violent struggle and being gripped by metallic clasps.... -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -My next clear recollection is that we were prisoners at we knew not what depths -beneath the moon’s surface; we were in darkness amidst strange -distracting noises; our bodies were covered with scratches and bruises, and our -heads racked with pain. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap12"></a>XII.<br /> -The Selenite’s Face</h2> - -<p> -I found myself sitting crouched together in a tumultuous darkness. For a long -time I could not understand where I was, nor how I had come to this perplexity. -I thought of the cupboard into which I had been thrust at times when I was a -child, and then of a very dark and noisy bedroom in which I had slept during an -illness. But these sounds about me were not the noises I had known, and there -was a thin flavour in the air like the wind of a stable. Then I supposed we -must still be at work upon the sphere, and that somehow I had got into the -cellar of Cavor’s house. I remembered we had finished the sphere, and -fancied I must still be in it and travelling through space. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “cannot we have some light?” -</p> - -<p> -There came no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I insisted. -</p> - -<p> -I was answered by a groan. “My head!” I heard him say; “my -head!” -</p> - -<p> -I attempted to press my hands to my brow, which ached, and discovered they were -tied together. This startled me very much. I brought them up to my mouth and -felt the cold smoothness of metal. They were chained together. I tried to -separate my legs and made out they were similarly fastened, and also that I was -fastened to the ground by a much thicker chain about the middle of my body. -</p> - -<p> -I was more frightened than I had yet been by anything in all our strange -experiences. For a time I tugged silently at my bonds. “Cavor!” I -cried out sharply. “Why am I tied? Why have you tied me hand and -foot?” -</p> - -<p> -“I haven’t tied you,” he answered. “It’s the -Selenites.” -</p> - -<p> -The Selenites! My mind hung on that for a space. Then my memories came back to -me: the snowy desolation, the thawing of the air, the growth of the plants, our -strange hopping and crawling among the rocks and vegetation of the crater. All -the distress of our frantic search for the sphere returned to me.... Finally -the opening of the great lid that covered the pit! -</p> - -<p> -Then as I strained to trace our later movements down to our present plight, the -pain in my head became intolerable. I came to an insurmountable barrier, an -obstinate blank. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“Where are we?” -</p> - -<p> -“How should I know?” -</p> - -<p> -“Are we dead?” -</p> - -<p> -“What nonsense!” -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve got us, then!” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer but a grunt. The lingering traces of the poison seemed to -make him oddly irritable. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“How should I know what to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, very well!” said I, and became silent. Presently, I was roused -from a stupor. “O <i>Lord!</i>” I cried; “I wish you’d -stop that buzzing!” -</p> - -<p> -We lapsed into silence again, listening to the dull confusion of noises like -the muffled sounds of a street or factory that filled our ears. I could make -nothing of it, my mind pursued first one rhythm and then another, and -questioned it in vain. But after a long time I became aware of a new and -sharper element, not mingling with the rest but standing out, as it were, -against that cloudy background of sound. It was a series of relatively very -little definite sounds, tappings and rubbings, like a loose spray of ivy -against a window or a bird moving about upon a box. We listened and peered -about us, but the darkness was a velvet pall. There followed a noise like the -subtle movement of the wards of a well-oiled lock. And then there appeared -before me, hanging as it seemed in an immensity of black, a thin bright line. -</p> - -<p> -“Look!” whispered Cavor very softly. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know.” -</p> - -<p> -We stared. -</p> - -<p> -The thin bright line became a band, and broader and paler. It took upon itself -the quality of a bluish light falling upon a white-washed wall. It ceased to be -parallel-sided; it developed a deep indentation on one side. I turned to remark -this to Cavor, and was amazed to see his ear in a brilliant -illumination—all the rest of him in shadow. I twisted my head round as -well as my bonds would permit. “Cavor,” I said, “it’s -behind!” -</p> - -<p> -His ear vanished—gave place to an eye! -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly the crack that had been admitting the light broadened out, and -revealed itself as the space of an opening door. Beyond was a sapphire vista, -and in the doorway stood a grotesque outline silhouetted against the glare. -</p> - -<p> -We both made convulsive efforts to turn, and failing, sat staring over our -shoulders at this. My first impression was of some clumsy quadruped with -lowered head. Then I perceived it was the slender pinched body and short and -extremely attenuated bandy legs of a Selenite, with his head depressed between -his shoulders. He was without the helmet and body covering they wear upon the -exterior. -</p> - -<p> -He was a blank, black figure to us, but instinctively our imaginations supplied -features to his very human outline. I, at least, took it instantly that he was -somewhat hunchbacked, with a high forehead and long features. -</p> - -<p> -He came forward three steps and paused for a time. His movements seemed -absolutely noiseless. Then he came forward again. He walked like a bird, his -feet fell one in front of the other. He stepped out of the ray of light that -came through the doorway, and it seemed as though he vanished altogether in the -shadow. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment my eyes sought him in the wrong place, and then I perceived him -standing facing us both in the full light. Only the human features I had -attributed to him were not there at all! -</p> - -<p> -Of course I ought to have expected that, only I didn’t. It came to me as -an absolute, for a moment an overwhelming shock. It seemed as though it -wasn’t a face, as though it must needs be a mask, a horror, a deformity, -that would presently be disavowed or explained. There was no nose, and the -thing had dull bulging eyes at the side—in the silhouette I had supposed -they were ears. There were no ears.... I have tried to draw one of these heads, -but I cannot. There was a mouth, downwardly curved, like a human mouth in a -face that stares ferociously.... -</p> - -<p> -The neck on which the head was poised was jointed in three places, almost like -the short joints in the leg of a crab. The joints of the limbs I could not see, -because of the puttee-like straps in which they were swathed, and which formed -the only clothing the being wore. -</p> - -<p> -There the thing was, looking at us! -</p> - -<p> -At the time my mind was taken up by the mad impossibility of the creature. I -suppose he also was amazed, and with more reason, perhaps, for amazement than -we. Only, confound him! he did not show it. We did at least know what had -brought about this meeting of incompatible creatures. But conceive how it would -seem to decent Londoners, for example, to come upon a couple of living things, -as big as men and absolutely unlike any other earthly animals, careering about -among the sheep in Hyde Park! It must have taken him like that. -</p> - -<p> -Figure us! We were bound hand and foot, fagged and filthy; our beards two -inches long, our faces scratched and bloody. Cavor you must imagine in his -knickerbockers (torn in several places by the bayonet scrub) his Jaegar shirt -and old cricket cap, his wiry hair wildly disordered, a tail to every quarter -of the heavens. In that blue light his face did not look red but very dark, his -lips and the drying blood upon my hands seemed black. If possible I was in a -worse plight than he, on account of the yellow fungus into which I had jumped. -Our jackets were unbuttoned, and our shoes had been taken off and lay at our -feet. And we were sitting with our backs to this queer bluish light, peering at -such a monster as Durer might have invented. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor broke the silence; started to speak, went hoarse, and cleared his throat. -Outside began a terrific bellowing, as if a mooncalf were in trouble. It ended -in a shriek, and everything was still again. -</p> - -<p> -Presently the Selenite turned about, flickered into the shadow, stood for a -moment retrospective at the door, and then closed it on us; and once more we -were in that murmurous mystery of darkness into which we had awakened. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap13"></a>XIII.<br /> -Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions</h2> - -<p> -For a time neither of us spoke. To focus together all the things we had brought -upon ourselves seemed beyond my mental powers. -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve got us,” I said at last. -</p> - -<p> -“It was that fungus.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well—if I hadn’t taken it we should have fainted and -starved.” -</p> - -<p> -“We might have found the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -I lost my temper at his persistence, and swore to myself. For a time we hated -one another in silence. I drummed with my fingers on the floor between my -knees, and gritted the links of my fetters together. Presently I was forced to -talk again. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you make of it, anyhow?” I asked humbly. -</p> - -<p> -“They are reasonable creatures—they can make things and do things. -Those lights we saw...” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped. It was clear he could make nothing of it. -</p> - -<p> -When he spoke again it was to confess, “After all, they are more human -than we had a right to expect. I suppose—” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped irritatingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose, anyhow—on any planet where there is an intelligent -animal—it will carry its brain case upward, and have hands, and walk -erect.” -</p> - -<p> -Presently he broke away in another direction. -</p> - -<p> -“We are some way in,” he said. “I mean—perhaps a couple -of thousand feet or more.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s cooler. And our voices are so much louder. That faded -quality—it has altogether gone. And the feeling in one’s ears and -throat.” -</p> - -<p> -I had not noted that, but I did now. -</p> - -<p> -“The air is denser. We must be some depths—a mile even, we may -be—inside the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“We never thought of a world inside the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“How could we?” -</p> - -<p> -“We might have done. Only one gets into habits of mind.” -</p> - -<p> -He thought for a time. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Now</i>,” he said, “it seems such an obvious -thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course! The moon must be enormously cavernous, with an atmosphere -within, and at the centre of its caverns a sea. -</p> - -<p> -“One knew that the moon had a lower specific gravity than the earth, one -knew that it had little air or water outside, one knew, too, that it was sister -planet to the earth, and that it was unaccountable that it should be different -in composition. The inference that it was hollowed out was as clear as day. And -yet one never saw it as a fact. Kepler, of course—” -</p> - -<p> -His voice had the interest now of a man who has discerned a pretty sequence of -reasoning. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said, “Kepler with his <i>sub-volvani</i> was right -after all.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish you had taken the trouble to find that out before we came,” -I said. -</p> - -<p> -He answered nothing, buzzing to himself softly, as he pursued his thoughts. My -temper was going. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you think has become of the sphere, anyhow?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Lost,” he said, like a man who answers an uninteresting question. -</p> - -<p> -“Among those plants?” -</p> - -<p> -“Unless they find it.” -</p> - -<p> -“And then?” -</p> - -<p> -“How can I tell?” -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, with a sort of hysterical bitterness, -“things look bright for my Company...” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “Just think of all the trouble we -took to get into this pickle! What did we come for? What are we after? What was -the moon to us or we to the moon? We wanted too much, we tried too much. We -ought to have started the little things first. It was you proposed the moon! -Those Cavorite spring blinds! I am certain we could have worked them for -terrestrial purposes. Certain! Did you really understand what I proposed? A -steel cylinder—” -</p> - -<p> -“Rubbish!” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -We ceased to converse. -</p> - -<p> -For a time Cavor kept up a broken monologue without much help from me. -</p> - -<p> -“If they find it,” he began, “if they find it ... what will -they do with it? Well, that’s a question. It may be that’s -<i>the</i> question. They won’t understand it, anyhow. If they understood -that sort of thing they would have come long since to the earth. Would they? -Why shouldn’t they? But they would have sent something—they -couldn’t keep their hands off such a possibility. No! But they will -examine it. Clearly they are intelligent and inquisitive. They will examine -it—get inside it—trifle with the studs. Off! ... That would mean -the moon for us for all the rest of our lives. Strange creatures, strange -knowledge....” -</p> - -<p> -“As for strange knowledge—” said I, and language failed me. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here, Bedford,” said Cavor, “you came on this -expedition of your own free will.” -</p> - -<p> -“You said to me, ‘Call it prospecting’.” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s always risks in prospecting.” -</p> - -<p> -“Especially when you do it unarmed and without thinking out every -possibility.” -</p> - -<p> -“I was so taken up with the sphere. The thing rushed on us, and carried -us away.” -</p> - -<p> -“Rushed on <i>me</i>, you mean.” -</p> - -<p> -“Rushed on me just as much. How was I to know when I set to work on -molecular physics that the business would bring me here—of all -places?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s this accursed science,” I cried. “It’s the -very Devil. The mediæval priests and persecutors were right and the Moderns are -all wrong. You tamper with it—and it offers you gifts. And directly you -take them it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way. Old passions and new -weapons—now it upsets your religion, now it upsets your social ideas, now -it whirls you off to desolation and misery!” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow, it’s no use your quarrelling with me <i>now</i>. These -creatures—these Selenites, or whatever we choose to call them—have -got us tied hand and foot. Whatever temper you choose to go through with it in, -you will have to go through with it.... We have experiences before us that will -need all our coolness.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused as if he required my assent. But I sat sulking. “Confound your -science!” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“The problem is communication. Gestures, I fear, will be different. -Pointing, for example. No creatures but men and monkeys point.” -</p> - -<p> -That was too obviously wrong for me. “Pretty nearly every animal,” -I cried, “points with its eyes or nose.” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor meditated over that. “Yes,” he said at last, “and we -don’t. There’s such differences—such differences!” -</p> - -<p> -“One might.... But how can I tell? There is speech. The sounds they make, -a sort of fluting and piping. I don’t see how we are to imitate that. Is -it their speech, that sort of thing? They may have different senses, different -means of communication. Of course they are minds and we are minds; there must -be something in common. Who knows how far we may not get to an -understanding?” -</p> - -<p> -“The things are outside us,” I said. “They’re more -different from us than the strangest animals on earth. They are a different -clay. What is the good of talking like this?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor thought. “I don’t see that. Where there are minds they will -have something <i>similar</i>—even though they have been evolved on -different planets. Of course if it was a question of instincts, if we or they -are no more than animals—” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, <i>are</i> they? They’re much more like ants on their hind -legs than human beings, and who ever got to any sort of understanding with -ants?” -</p> - -<p> -“But these machines and clothing! No, I don’t hold with you, -Bedford. The difference is wide—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s insurmountable.” -</p> - -<p> -“The resemblance must bridge it. I remember reading once a paper by the -late Professor Galton on the possibility of communication between the planets. -Unhappily, at that time it did not seem probable that that would be of any -material benefit to me, and I fear I did not give it the attention I should -have done—in view of this state of affairs. Yet.... Now, let me see! -</p> - -<p> -“His idea was to begin with those broad truths that must underlie all -conceivable mental existences and establish a basis on those. The great -principles of geometry, to begin with. He proposed to take some leading -proposition of Euclid’s, and show by construction that its truth was -known to us, to demonstrate, for example, that the angles at the base of an -isosceles triangle are equal, and that if the equal sides be produced the -angles on the other side of the base are equal also, or that the square on the -hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares on the -two other sides. By demonstrating our knowledge of these things we should -demonstrate our possession of a reasonable intelligence.... Now, suppose I ... -I might draw the geometrical figure with a wet finger, or even trace it in the -air....” -</p> - -<p> -He fell silent. I sat meditating his words. For a time his wild hope of -communication, of interpretation, with these weird beings held me. Then that -angry despair that was a part of my exhaustion and physical misery resumed its -sway. I perceived with a sudden novel vividness the extraordinary folly of -everything I had ever done. “Ass!” I said; “oh, ass, -unutterable ass.... I seem to exist only to go about doing preposterous things. -Why did we ever leave the thing? ... Hopping about looking for patents and -concessions in the craters of the moon!... If only we had had the sense to -fasten a handkerchief to a stick to show where we had left the sphere!” -</p> - -<p> -I subsided, fuming. -</p> - -<p> -“It is clear,” meditated Cavor, “they are intelligent. One -can hypothecate certain things. As they have not killed us at once, they must -have ideas of mercy. Mercy! at any rate of restraint. Possibly of intercourse. -They may meet us. And this apartment and the glimpses we had of its guardian. -These fetters! A high degree of intelligence...” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish to heaven,” cried I, “I’d thought even twice! -Plunge after plunge. First one fluky start and then another. It was my -confidence in you! <i>Why</i> didn’t I stick to my play? That was what I -was equal to. That was my world and the life I was made for. I could have -finished that play. I’m certain ... it was a good play. I had the -scenario as good as done. Then.... Conceive it! leaping to the moon! -Practically—I’ve thrown my life away! That old woman in the inn -near Canterbury had better sense.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. The darkness had given place to that -bluish light again. The door was opening, and several noiseless Selenites were -coming into the chamber. I became quite still, staring at their grotesque -faces. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable strangeness changed to interest. I -perceived that the foremost and second carried bowls. One elemental need at -least our minds could understand in common. They were bowls of some metal that, -like our fetters, looked dark in that bluish light; and each contained a number -of whitish fragments. All the cloudy pain and misery that oppressed me rushed -together and took the shape of hunger. I eyed these bowls wolfishly, and, -though it returned to me in dreams, at that time it seemed a small matter that -at the end of the arms that lowered one towards me were not hands, but a sort -of flap and thumb, like the end of an elephant’s trunk. The stuff in the -bowl was loose in texture, and whitish brown in colour—rather like lumps -of some cold souffle, and it smelt faintly like mushrooms. From a partially -divided carcass of a mooncalf that we presently saw, I am inclined to believe -it must have been mooncalf flesh. -</p> - -<p> -My hands were so tightly chained that I could barely contrive to reach the -bowl; but when they saw the effort I made, two of them dexterously released one -of the turns about my wrist. Their tentacle hands were soft and cold to my -skin. I immediately seized a mouthful of the food. It had the same laxness in -texture that all organic structures seem to have upon the moon; it tasted -rather like a gauffre or a damp meringue, but in no way was it disagreeable. I -took two other mouthfuls. “I <i>wanted</i>—foo’!” said -I, tearing off a still larger piece.... -</p> - -<p> -For a time we ate with an utter absence of self-consciousness. We ate and -presently drank like tramps in a soup kitchen. Never before nor since have I -been hungry to the ravenous pitch, and save that I have had this very -experience I could never have believed that, a quarter of a million of miles -out of our proper world, in utter perplexity of soul, surrounded, watched, -touched by beings more grotesque and inhuman than the worst creations of a -nightmare, it would be possible for me to eat in utter forgetfulness of all -these things. They stood about us watching us, and ever and again making a -slight elusive twittering that stood, I suppose, in the stead of speech. I did -not even shiver at their touch. And when the first zeal of my feeding was over, -I could note that Cavor, too, had been eating with the same shameless abandon. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap14"></a>XIV.<br /> -Experiments in intercourse</h2> - -<p> -When at last we had made an end of eating, the Selenites linked our hands -closely together again, and then untwisted the chains about our feet and -rebound them, so as to give us a limited freedom of movement. Then they -unfastened the chains about our waists. To do all this they had to handle us -freely, and ever and again one of their queer heads came down close to my face, -or a soft tentacle-hand touched my head or neck. I don’t remember that I -was afraid then or repelled by their proximity. I think that our incurable -anthropomorphism made us imagine there were human heads inside their masks. The -skin, like everything else, looked bluish, but that was on account of the -light; and it was hard and shiny, quite in the beetle-wing fashion, not soft, -or moist, or hairy, as a vertebrated animal’s would be. Along the crest -of the head was a low ridge of whitish spines running from back to front, and a -much larger ridge curved on either side over the eyes. The Selenite who untied -me used his mouth to help his hands. -</p> - -<p> -“They seem to be releasing us,” said Cavor. “Remember we are -on the moon! Make no sudden movements!” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you going to try that geometry?” -</p> - -<p> -“If I get a chance. But, of course, they may make an advance -first.” -</p> - -<p> -We remained passive, and the Selenites, having finished their arrangements, -stood back from us, and seemed to be looking at us. I say seemed to be, because -as their eyes were at the side and not in front, one had the same difficulty in -determining the direction in which they were looking as one has in the case of -a hen or a fish. They conversed with one another in their reedy tones, that -seemed to me impossible to imitate or define. The door behind us opened wider, -and, glancing over my shoulder, I saw a vague large space beyond, in which -quite a little crowd of Selenites were standing. They seemed a curiously -miscellaneous rabble. -</p> - -<p> -“Do they want us to imitate those sounds?” I asked Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t think so,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to me that they are trying to make us understand -something.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t make anything of their gestures. Do you notice this one, -who is worrying with his head like a man with an uncomfortable collar?” -</p> - -<p> -“Let us shake our heads at him.” -</p> - -<p> -We did that, and finding it ineffectual, attempted an imitation of the -Selenites’ movements. That seemed to interest them. At any rate they all -set up the same movement. But as that seemed to lead to nothing, we desisted at -last and so did they, and fell into a piping argument among themselves. Then -one of them, shorter and very much thicker than the others, and with a -particularly wide mouth, squatted down suddenly beside Cavor, and put his hands -and feet in the same posture as Cavor’s were bound, and then by a -dexterous movement stood up. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I shouted, “they want us to get up!” -</p> - -<p> -He stared open-mouthed. “That’s it!” he said. -</p> - -<p> -And with much heaving and grunting, because our hands were tied together, we -contrived to struggle to our feet. The Selenites made way for our elephantine -heavings, and seemed to twitter more volubly. As soon as we were on our feet -the thick-set Selenite came and patted each of our faces with his tentacles, -and walked towards the open doorway. That also was plain enough, and we -followed him. We saw that four of the Selenites standing in the doorway were -much taller than the others, and clothed in the same manner as those we had -seen in the crater, namely, with spiked round helmets and cylindrical -body-cases, and that each of the four carried a goad with spike and guard made -of that same dull-looking metal as the bowls. These four closed about us, one -on either side of each of us, as we emerged from our chamber into the cavern -from which the light had come. -</p> - -<p> -We did not get our impression of that cavern all at once. Our attention was -taken up by the movements and attitudes of the Selenites immediately about us, -and by the necessity of controlling our motion, lest we should startle and -alarm them and ourselves by some excessive stride. In front of us was the -short, thick-set being who had solved the problem of asking us to get up, -moving with gestures that seemed, almost all of them, intelligible to us, -inviting us to follow him. His spout-like face turned from one of us to the -other with a quickness that was clearly interrogative. For a time, I say, we -were taken up with these things. -</p> - -<p> -But at last the great place that formed a background to our movements asserted -itself. It became apparent that the source of much, at least, of the tumult of -sounds which had filled our ears ever since we had recovered from the -stupefaction of the fungus was a vast mass of machinery in active movement, -whose flying and whirling parts were visible indistinctly over the heads and -between the bodies of the Selenites who walked about us. And not only did the -web of sounds that filled the air proceed from this mechanism, but also the -peculiar blue light that irradiated the whole place. We had taken it as a -natural thing that a subterranean cavern should be artificially lit, and even -now, though the fact was patent to my eyes, I did not really grasp its import -until presently the darkness came. The meaning and structure of this huge -apparatus we saw I cannot explain, because we neither of us learnt what it was -for or how it worked. One after another, big shafts of metal flung out and up -from its centre, their heads travelling in what seemed to me to be a parabolic -path; each dropped a sort of dangling arm as it rose towards the apex of its -flight and plunged down into a vertical cylinder, forcing this down before it. -About it moved the shapes of tenders, little figures that seemed vaguely -different from the beings about us. As each of the three dangling arms of the -machine plunged down, there was a clank and then a roaring, and out of the top -of the vertical cylinder came pouring this incandescent substance that lit the -place, and ran over as milk runs over a boiling pot, and dripped luminously -into a tank of light below. It was a cold blue light, a sort of phosphorescent -glow but infinitely brighter, and from the tanks into which it fell it ran in -conduits athwart the cavern. -</p> - -<p> -Thud, thud, thud, thud, came the sweeping arms of this unintelligible -apparatus, and the light substance hissed and poured. At first the thing seemed -only reasonably large and near to us, and then I saw how exceedingly little the -Selenites upon it seemed, and I realised the full immensity of cavern and -machine. I looked from this tremendous affair to the faces of the Selenites -with a new respect. I stopped, and Cavor stopped, and stared at this thunderous -engine. -</p> - -<p> -“But this is stupendous!” I said. “What can it be for?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor’s blue-lit face was full of an intelligent respect. “I -can’t dream! Surely these beings— Men could not make a thing like -that! Look at those arms, are they on connecting rods?” -</p> - -<p> -The thick-set Selenite had gone some paces unheeded. He came back and stood -between us and the great machine. I avoided seeing him, because I guessed -somehow that his idea was to beckon us onward. He walked away in the direction -he wished us to go, and turned and came back, and flicked our faces to attract -our attention. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor and I looked at one another. -</p> - -<p> -“Cannot we show him we are interested in the machine?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” said Cavor. “We’ll try that.” He turned to -our guide and smiled, and pointed to the machine, and pointed again, and then -to his head, and then to the machine. By some defect of reasoning he seemed to -imagine that broken English might help these gestures. “Me look -‘im,” he said, “me think ‘im very much. Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -His behaviour seemed to check the Selenites in their desire for our progress -for a moment. They faced one another, their queer heads moved, the twittering -voices came quick and liquid. Then one of them, a lean, tall creature, with a -sort of mantle added to the puttee in which the others were dressed, twisted -his elephant trunk of a hand about Cavor’s waist, and pulled him gently -to follow our guide, who again went on ahead. Cavor resisted. “We may -just as well begin explaining ourselves now. They may think we are new animals, -a new sort of mooncalf perhaps! It is most important that we should show an -intelligent interest from the outset.” -</p> - -<p> -He began to shake his head violently. “No, no,” he said, “me -not come on one minute. Me look at ‘im.” -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t there some geometrical point you might bring in -<i>apropos</i> of that affair?” I suggested, as the Selenites conferred -again. -</p> - -<p> -“Possibly a parabolic—” he began. -</p> - -<p> -He yelled loudly, and leaped six feet or more! -</p> - -<p> -One of the four armed moon-men had pricked him with a goad! -</p> - -<p> -I turned on the goad-bearer behind me with a swift threatening gesture, and he -started back. This and Cavor’s sudden shout and leap clearly astonished -all the Selenites. They receded hastily, facing us. For one of those moments -that seem to last for ever, we stood in angry protest, with a scattered -semicircle of these inhuman beings about us. -</p> - -<p> -“He pricked me!” said Cavor, with a catching of the voice. -</p> - -<p> -“I saw him,” I answered. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said to the Selenites; “we’re not -going to stand that! What on earth do you take us for?” -</p> - -<p> -I glanced quickly right and left. Far away across the blue wilderness of cavern -I saw a number of other Selenites running towards us; broad and slender they -were, and one with a larger head than the others. The cavern spread wide and -low, and receded in every direction into darkness. Its roof, I remember, seemed -to bulge down as if with the weight of the vast thickness of rocks that -prisoned us. There was no way out of it—no way out of it. Above, below, -in every direction, was the unknown, and these inhuman creatures, with goads -and gestures, confronting us, and we two unsupported men! -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap15"></a>XV.<br /> -The Giddy Bridge</h2> - -<p> -Just for a moment that hostile pause endured. I suppose that both we and the -Selenites did some very rapid thinking. My clearest impression was that there -was nothing to put my back against, and that we were bound to be surrounded and -killed. The overwhelming folly of our presence there loomed over me in black, -enormous reproach. Why had I ever launched myself on this mad, inhuman -expedition? -</p> - -<p> -Cavor came to my side and laid his hand on my arm. His pale and terrified face -was ghastly in the blue light. -</p> - -<p> -“We can’t do anything,” he said. “It’s a mistake. -They don’t understand. We must go. As they want us to go.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked down at him, and then at the fresh Selenites who were coming to help -their fellows. “If I had my hands free—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s no use,” he panted. -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll go.” -</p> - -<p> -And he turned about and led the way in the direction that had been indicated -for us. -</p> - -<p> -I followed, trying to look as subdued as possible, and feeling at the chains -about my wrists. My blood was boiling. I noted nothing more of that cavern, -though it seemed to take a long time before we had marched across it, or if I -noted anything I forgot it as I saw it. My thoughts were concentrated, I think, -upon my chains and the Selenites, and particularly upon the helmeted ones with -the goads. At first they marched parallel with us, and at a respectful -distance, but presently they were overtaken by three others, and then they drew -nearer, until they were within arms length again. I winced like a beaten horse -as they came near to us. The shorter, thicker Selenite marched at first on our -right flank, but presently came in front of us again. -</p> - -<p> -How well the picture of that grouping has bitten into my brain; the back of -Cavor’s downcast head just in front of me, and the dejected droop of his -shoulders, and our guide’s gaping visage, perpetually jerking about him, -and the goad-bearers on either side, watchful, yet open-mouthed—a blue -monochrome. And after all, I <i>do</i> remember one other thing besides the -purely personal affair, which is, that a sort of gutter came presently across -the floor of the cavern, and then ran along by the side of the path of rock we -followed. And it was full of that same bright blue luminous stuff that flowed -out of the great machine. I walked close beside it, and I can testify it -radiated not a particle of heat. It was brightly shining, and yet it was -neither warmer nor colder than anything else in the cavern. -</p> - -<p> -Clang, clang, clang, we passed right under the thumping levers of another vast -machine, and so came at last to a wide tunnel, in which we could even hear the -pad, pad, of our shoeless feet, and which, save for the trickling thread of -blue to the right of us, was quite unlit. The shadows made gigantic travesties -of our shapes and those of the Selenites on the irregular wall and roof of the -tunnel. Ever and again crystals in the walls of the tunnel scintillated like -gems, ever and again the tunnel expanded into a stalactitic cavern, or gave off -branches that vanished into darkness. -</p> - -<p> -We seemed to be marching down that tunnel for a long time. “Trickle, -trickle,” went the flowing light very softly, and our footfalls and their -echoes made an irregular paddle, paddle. My mind settled down to the question -of my chains. If I were to slip off one turn <i>so</i>, and then to twist it -<i>so</i> ... -</p> - -<p> -If I tried to do it very gradually, would they see I was slipping my wrist out -of the looser turn? If they did, what would they do? -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford,” said Cavor, “it goes down. It keeps on going -down.” -</p> - -<p> -His remark roused me from my sullen pre-occupation. -</p> - -<p> -“If they wanted to kill us,” he said, dropping back to come level -with me, “there is no reason why they should not have done it.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I admitted, “that’s true.” -</p> - -<p> -“They don’t understand us,” he said, “they think we are -merely strange animals, some wild sort of mooncalf birth, perhaps. It will be -only when they have observed us better that they will begin to think we have -minds—” -</p> - -<p> -“When you trace those geometrical problems,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“It may be that.” -</p> - -<p> -We tramped on for a space. -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” said Cavor, “these may be Selenites of a lower -class.” -</p> - -<p> -“The infernal fools!” said I viciously, glancing at their -exasperating faces. -</p> - -<p> -“If we endure what they do to us—” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ve got to endure it,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“There may be others less stupid. This is the mere outer fringe of their -world. It must go down and down, cavern, passage, tunnel, down at last to the -sea—hundreds of miles below.” -</p> - -<p> -His words made me think of the mile or so of rock and tunnel that might be over -our heads already. It was like a weight dropping on my shoulders. “Away -from the sun and air,” I said. “Even a mine half a mile deep is -stuffy.” -</p> - -<p> -“This is not, anyhow. It’s probable—Ventilation! The air -would blow from the dark side of the moon to the sunlit, and all the carbonic -acid would well out there and feed those plants. Up this tunnel, for example, -there is quite a breeze. And what a world it must be. The earnest we have in -that shaft, and those machines—” -</p> - -<p> -“And the goad,” I said. “Don’t forget the goad!” -</p> - -<p> -He walked a little in front of me for a time. -</p> - -<p> -“Even that goad—” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“I was angry at the time. But—it was perhaps necessary we should -get on. They have different skins, and probably different nerves. They may not -understand our objection—just as a being from Mars might not like our -earthly habit of nudging.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’d better be careful how they nudge <i>me</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“And about that geometry. After all, their way is a way of understanding, -too. They begin with the elements of life and not of thought. Food. Compulsion. -Pain. They strike at fundamentals.” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s no doubt about <i>that</i>,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He went on to talk of the enormous and wonderful world into which we were being -taken. I realised slowly from his tone, that even now he was not absolutely in -despair at the prospect of going ever deeper into this inhuman planet-burrow. -His mind ran on machines and invention, to the exclusion of a thousand dark -things that beset me. It wasn’t that he intended to make any use of these -things, he simply wanted to know them. -</p> - -<p> -“After all,” he said, “this is a tremendous occasion. It is -the meeting of two worlds! What are we going to see? Think of what is below us -here.” -</p> - -<p> -“We shan’t see much if the light isn’t better,” I -remarked. -</p> - -<p> -“This is only the outer crust. Down below— On this scale— -There will be everything. Do you notice how different they seem one from -another? The story we shall take back!” -</p> - -<p> -“Some rare sort of animal,” I said, “might comfort himself in -that way while they were bringing him to the Zoo.... It doesn’t follow -that we are going to be shown all these things.” -</p> - -<p> -“When they find we have reasonable minds,” said Cavor, “they -will want to learn about the earth. Even if they have no generous emotions, -they will teach in order to learn.... And the things they must know! The -unanticipated things!” -</p> - -<p> -He went on to speculate on the possibility of their knowing things he had never -hoped to learn on earth, speculating in that way, with a raw wound from that -goad already in his skin! Much that he said I forget, for my attention was -drawn to the fact that the tunnel along which we had been marching was opening -out wider and wider. We seemed, from the feeling of the air, to be going out -into a huge space. But how big the space might really be we could not tell, -because it was unlit. Our little stream of light ran in a dwindling thread and -vanished far ahead. Presently the rocky walls had vanished altogether on either -hand. There was nothing to be seen but the path in front of us and the -trickling hurrying rivulet of blue phosphorescence. The figures of Cavor and -the guiding Selenite marched before me, the sides of their legs and heads that -were towards the rivulet were clear and bright blue, their darkened sides, now -that the reflection of the tunnel wall no longer lit them, merged -indistinguishably in the darkness beyond. -</p> - -<p> -And soon I perceived that we were approaching a declivity of some sort, because -the little blue stream dipped suddenly out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -In another moment, as it seemed, we had reached the edge. The shining stream -gave one meander of hesitation and then rushed over. It fell to a depth at -which the sound of its descent was absolutely lost to us. Far below was a -bluish glow, a sort of blue mist—at an infinite distance below. And the -darkness the stream dropped out of became utterly void and black, save that a -thing like a plank projected from the edge of the cliff and stretched out and -faded and vanished altogether. There was a warm air blowing up out of the gulf. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I and Cavor stood as near the edge as we dared, peering into a -blue-tinged profundity. And then our guide was pulling at my arm. -</p> - -<p> -Then he left me, and walked to the end of that plank and stepped upon it, -looking back. Then when he perceived we watched him, he turned about and went -on along it, walking as surely as though he was on firm earth. For a moment his -form was distinct, then he became a blue blur, and then vanished into the -obscurity. I became aware of some vague shape looming darkly out of the black. -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause. “Surely!—” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -One of the other Selenites walked a few paces out upon the plank, and turned -and looked back at us unconcernedly. The others stood ready to follow after us. -Our guide’s expectant figure reappeared. He was returning to see why we -had not advanced. -</p> - -<p> -“What is that beyond there?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t see.” -</p> - -<p> -“We can’t cross this at any price,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“I could not go three steps on it,” said Cavor, “even with my -hands free.” -</p> - -<p> -We looked at each other’s drawn faces in blank consternation. -</p> - -<p> -“They can’t know what it is to be giddy!” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s quite impossible for us to walk that plank.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t believe they see as we do. I’ve been watching them. -I wonder if they know this is simply blackness for us. How can we make them -understand?” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow, we must make them understand.” -</p> - -<p> -I think we said these things with a vague half hope the Selenites might somehow -understand. I knew quite clearly that all that was needed was an explanation. -Then as I saw their faces, I realised that an explanation was impossible. Just -here it was that our resemblances were not going to bridge our differences. -Well, I wasn’t going to walk the plank, anyhow. I slipped my wrist very -quickly out of the coil of chain that was loose, and then began to twist my -wrists in opposite directions. I was standing nearest to the bridge, and as I -did this two of the Selenites laid hold of me, and pulled me gently towards it. -</p> - -<p> -I shook my head violently. “No go,” I said, “no use. You -don’t understand.” -</p> - -<p> -Another Selenite added his compulsion. I was forced to step forward. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve got an idea,” said Cavor; but I knew his ideas. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here!” I exclaimed to the Selenites. “Steady on! -It’s all very well for you—” -</p> - -<p> -I sprang round upon my heel. I burst out into curses. For one of the armed -Selenites had stabbed me behind with his goad. -</p> - -<p> -I wrenched my wrists free from the little tentacles that held them. I turned on -the goad-bearer. “Confound you!” I cried. “I’ve warned -you of that. What on earth do you think I’m made of, to stick that into -me? If you touch me again—” -</p> - -<p> -By way of answer he pricked me forthwith. -</p> - -<p> -I heard Cavor’s voice in alarm and entreaty. Even then I think he wanted -to compromise with these creatures. “I say, Bedford,” he cried, -“I know a way!” But the sting of that second stab seemed to set -free some pent-up reserve of energy in my being. Instantly the link of the -wrist-chain snapped, and with it snapped all considerations that had held us -unresisting in the hands of these moon creatures. For that second, at least, I -was mad with fear and anger. I took no thought of consequences. I hit straight -out at the face of the thing with the goad. The chain was twisted round my -fist. -</p> - -<p> -There came another of these beastly surprises of which the moon world is full. -</p> - -<p> -My mailed hand seemed to go clean through him. He smashed like—like some -softish sort of sweet with liquid in it! He broke right in! He squelched and -splashed. It was like hitting a damp toadstool. The flimsy body went spinning a -dozen yards, and fell with a flabby impact. I was astonished. I was incredulous -that any living thing could be so flimsy. For an instant I could have believed -the whole thing a dream. -</p> - -<p> -Then it had become real and imminent again. Neither Cavor nor the other -Selenites seemed to have done anything from the time when I had turned about to -the time when the dead Selenite hit the ground. Every one stood back from us -two, every one alert. That arrest seemed to last at least a second after the -Selenite was down. Every one must have been taking the thing in. I seem to -remember myself standing with my arm half retracted, trying also to take it in. -“What next?” clamoured my brain; “what next?” Then in a -moment every one was moving! -</p> - -<p> -I perceived we must get our chains loose, and that before we could do this -these Selenites had to be beaten off. I faced towards the group of the three -goad-bearers. Instantly one threw his goad at me. It swished over my head, and -I suppose went flying into the abyss behind. -</p> - -<p> -I leaped right at him with all my might as the goad flew over me. He turned to -run as I jumped, and I bore him to the ground, came down right upon him, and -slipped upon his smashed body and fell. He seemed to wriggle under my foot. -</p> - -<p> -I came into a sitting position, and on every hand the blue backs of the -Selenites were receding into the darkness. I bent a link by main force and -untwisted the chain that had hampered me about the ankles, and sprang to my -feet, with the chain in my hand. Another goad, flung javelin-wise, whistled by -me, and I made a rush towards the darkness out of which it had come. Then I -turned back towards Cavor, who was still standing in the light of the rivulet -near the gulf convulsively busy with his wrists, and at the same time jabbering -nonsense about his idea. -</p> - -<p> -“Come on!” I cried. -</p> - -<p> -“My hands!” he answered. -</p> - -<p> -Then, realising that I dared not run back to him, because my ill-calculated -steps might carry me over the edge, he came shuffling towards me, with his -hands held out before him. -</p> - -<p> -I gripped his chains at once to unfasten them. -</p> - -<p> -“Where are they?” he panted. -</p> - -<p> -“Run away. They’ll come back. They’re throwing things! Which -way shall we go?” -</p> - -<p> -“By the light. To that tunnel. Eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” said I, and his hands were free. -</p> - -<p> -I dropped on my knees and fell to work on his ankle bonds. Whack came -something—I know not what—and splashed the livid streamlet into -drops about us. Far away on our right a piping and whistling began. -</p> - -<p> -I whipped the chain off his feet, and put it in his hand. “Hit with -that!” I said, and without waiting for an answer, set off in big bounds -along the path by which we had come. I had a nasty sort of feeling that these -things could jump out of the darkness on to my back. I heard the impact of his -leaps come following after me. -</p> - -<p> -We ran in vast strides. But that running, you must understand, was an -altogether different thing from any running on earth. On earth one leaps and -almost instantly hits the ground again, but on the moon, because of its weaker -pull, one shot through the air for several seconds before one came to earth. In -spite of our violent hurry this gave an effect of long pauses, pauses in which -one might have counted seven or eight. “Step,” and one soared off! -All sorts of questions ran through my mind: “Where are the Selenites? -What will they do? Shall we ever get to that tunnel? Is Cavor far behind? Are -they likely to cut him off?” Then whack, stride, and off again for -another step. -</p> - -<p> -I saw a Selenite running in front of me, his legs going exactly as a -man’s would go on earth, saw him glance over his shoulder, and heard him -shriek as he ran aside out of my way into the darkness. He was, I think, our -guide, but I am not sure. Then in another vast stride the walls of rock had -come into view on either hand, and in two more strides I was in the tunnel, and -tempering my pace to its low roof. I went on to a bend, then stopped and turned -back, and plug, plug, plug, Cavor came into view, splashing into the stream of -blue light at every stride, and grew larger and blundered into me. We stood -clutching each other. For a moment, at least, we had shaken off our captors and -were alone. -</p> - -<p> -We were both very much out of breath. We spoke in panting, broken sentences. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve spoilt it all!” panted Cavor. “Nonsense,” -I cried. “It was that or death!” -</p> - -<p> -“What are we to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Hide.” -</p> - -<p> -“How can we?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s dark enough.” -</p> - -<p> -“But where?” -</p> - -<p> -“Up one of these side caverns.” -</p> - -<p> -“And then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Think.” -</p> - -<p> -“Right—come on.” -</p> - -<p> -We strode on, and presently came to a radiating dark cavern. Cavor was in -front. He hesitated, and chose a black mouth that seemed to promise good -hiding. He went towards it and turned. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s dark,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Your legs and feet will light us. You’re wet with that luminous -stuff.” -</p> - -<p> -“But—” -</p> - -<p> -A tumult of sounds, and in particular a sound like a clanging gong, advancing -up the main tunnel, became audible. It was horribly suggestive of a tumultuous -pursuit. We made a bolt for the unlit side cavern forthwith. As we ran along it -our way was lit by the irradiation of Cavor’s legs. “It’s -lucky,” I panted, “they took off our boots, or we should fill this -place with clatter.” On we rushed, taking as small steps as we could to -avoid striking the roof of the cavern. After a time we seemed to be gaining on -the uproar. It became muffled, it dwindled, it died away. -</p> - -<p> -I stopped and looked back, and I heard the pad, pad of Cavor’s feet -receding. Then he stopped also. “Bedford,” he whispered; -“there’s a sort of light in front of us.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked, and at first could see nothing. Then I perceived his head and -shoulders dimly outlined against a fainter darkness. I saw, also, that this -mitigation of the darkness was not blue, as all the other light within the moon -had been, but a pallid grey, a very vague, faint white, the daylight colour. -Cavor noted this difference as soon, or sooner, than I did, and I think, too, -that it filled him with much the same wild hope. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford,” he whispered, and his voice trembled. “That -light—it is possible—” -</p> - -<p> -He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. Then came a pause. Suddenly I knew -by the sound of his feet that he was striding towards that pallor. I followed -him with a beating heart. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap16"></a>XVI.<br /> -Points of View</h2> - -<p> -The light grew stronger as we advanced. In a little time it was nearly as -strong as the phosphorescence on Cavor’s legs. Our tunnel was expanding -into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of it. I perceived -something that set my hopes leaping and bounding. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “it comes from above! I am certain it comes -from above!” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer, but hurried on. -</p> - -<p> -Indisputably it was a grey light, a silvery light. -</p> - -<p> -In another moment we were beneath it. It filtered down through a chink in the -walls of the cavern, and as I stared up, drip, came a drop of water upon my -face. I started and stood aside—drip, fell another drop quite audibly on -the rocky floor. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “if one of us lifts the other, he can reach -that crack!” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll lift you,” he said, and incontinently hoisted me as -though I was a baby. -</p> - -<p> -I thrust an arm into the crack, and just at my finger tips found a little ledge -by which I could hold. I could see the white light was very much brighter now. -I pulled myself up by two fingers with scarcely an effort, though on earth I -weigh twelve stone, reached to a still higher corner of rock, and so got my -feet on the narrow ledge. I stood up and searched up the rocks with my fingers; -the cleft broadened out upwardly. “It’s climbable,” I said to -Cavor. “Can you jump up to my hand if I hold it down to you?” -</p> - -<p> -I wedged myself between the sides of the cleft, rested knee and foot on the -ledge, and extended a hand. I could not see Cavor, but I could hear the rustle -of his movements as he crouched to spring. Then whack and he was hanging to my -arm—and no heavier than a kitten! I lugged him up until he had a hand on -my ledge, and could release me. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said, “any one could be a mountaineer on the -moon;” and so set myself in earnest to the climbing. For a few minutes I -clambered steadily, and then I looked up again. The cleft opened out steadily, -and the light was brighter. Only— -</p> - -<p> -It was not daylight after all. -</p> - -<p> -In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could have beaten -my head against the rocks with disappointment. For I beheld simply an -irregularly sloping open space, and all over its slanting floor stood a forest -of little club-shaped fungi, each shining gloriously with that pinkish silvery -light. For a moment I stared at their soft radiance, then sprang forward and -upward among them. I plucked up half a dozen and flung them against the rocks, -and then sat down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor’s ruddy face came into -view. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s phosphorescence again!” I said. “No need to -hurry. Sit down and make yourself at home.” And as he spluttered over our -disappointment, I began to lob more of these growths into the cleft. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought it was daylight,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Daylight!” cried I. “Daybreak, sunset, clouds, and windy -skies! Shall we ever see such things again?” -</p> - -<p> -As I spoke, a little picture of our world seemed to rise before me, bright and -little and clear, like the background of some old Italian picture. “The -sky that changes, and the sea that changes, and the hills and the green trees -and the towns and cities shining in the sun. Think of a wet roof at sunset, -Cavor! Think of the windows of a westward house!” He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Here we are burrowing in this beastly world that isn’t a world, -with its inky ocean hidden in some abominable blackness below, and outside that -torrid day and that death stillness of night. And all these things that are -chasing us now, beastly men of leather—insect men, that come out of a -nightmare! After all, they’re right! What business have we here smashing -them and disturbing their world! For all we know the whole planet is up and -after us already. In a minute we may hear them whimpering, and their gongs -going. What are we to do? Where are we to go? Here we are as comfortable as -snakes from Jamrach’s loose in a Surbiton villa!” -</p> - -<p> -“It was your fault,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“My fault!” I shouted. “Good Lord!” -</p> - -<p> -“I had an idea!” -</p> - -<p> -“Curse your ideas!” -</p> - -<p> -“If we had refused to budge—” -</p> - -<p> -“Under those goads?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. They would have carried us!” -</p> - -<p> -“Over that bridge?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. They must have carried us from outside.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’d rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good Heavens!” -</p> - -<p> -I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something that -struck me even then. “Cavor,” I said, “these chains are of -gold!” -</p> - -<p> -He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned his -head slowly and stared at me, and when I had repeated my words, at the twisted -chain about his right hand. “So they are,” he said, “so they -are.” His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He -hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I sat for -a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed this, until I -considered the blue light in which we had been, and which had taken all the -colour out of the metal. And from that discovery I also started upon a train of -thought that carried me wide and far. I forgot that I had just been asking what -business we had in the moon. Gold.... -</p> - -<p> -It was Cavor who spoke first. “It seems to me that there are two courses -open to us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“Either we can attempt to make our way—fight our way if -necessary—out to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere until -we find it, or the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else—” -</p> - -<p> -He paused. “Yes?” I said, though I knew what was coming. -</p> - -<p> -“We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding with -the minds of the people in the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“So far as I’m concerned—it’s the first.” -</p> - -<p> -“I doubt.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” said Cavor, “I do not think we can judge the -Selenites by what we have seen of them. Their central world, their civilised -world will be far below in the profounder caverns about their sea. This region -of the crust in which we are is an outlying district, a pastoral region. At any -rate, that is my interpretation. These Selenites we have seen may be only the -equivalent of cowboys and engine-tenders. Their use of goads—in all -probability mooncalf goads—the lack of imagination they show in expecting -us to be able to do just what they can do, their indisputable brutality, all -seem to point to something of that sort. But if we endured—” -</p> - -<p> -“Neither of us could endure a six-inch plank across the bottomless pit -for very long.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Cavor; “but then—” -</p> - -<p> -“I <i>won’t</i>,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He discovered a new line of possibilities. “Well, suppose we got -ourselves into some corner, where we could defend ourselves against these hinds -and labourers. If, for example, we could hold out for a week or so, it is -probable that the news of our appearance would filter down to the more -intelligent and populous parts—” -</p> - -<p> -“If they exist.” -</p> - -<p> -“They must exist, or whence came those tremendous machines?” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s possible, but it’s the worst of the two -chances.” -</p> - -<p> -“We might write up inscriptions on walls—” -</p> - -<p> -“How do we know their eyes would see the sort of marks we made?” -</p> - -<p> -“If we cut them—” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s possible, of course.” -</p> - -<p> -I took up a new thread of thought. “After all,” I said, “I -suppose you don’t think these Selenites so infinitely wiser than -men.” -</p> - -<p> -“They must know a lot more—or at least a lot of different -things.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, but—” I hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“I think you’ll quite admit, Cavor, that you’re rather an -exceptional man.” -</p> - -<p> -“How?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you—you’re a rather lonely man—have been, that -is. You haven’t married.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never wanted to. But why—” -</p> - -<p> -“And you never grew richer than you happened to be?” -</p> - -<p> -“Never wanted that either.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve just rooted after knowledge?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, a certain curiosity is natural—” -</p> - -<p> -“You think so. That’s just it. You think every other mind wants to -<i>know</i>. I remember once, when I asked you why you conducted all these -researches, you said you wanted your F.R.S., and to have the stuff called -Cavorite, and things like that. You know perfectly well you didn’t do it -for that; but at the time my question took you by surprise, and you felt you -ought to have something to look like a motive. Really you conducted researches -because you <i>had</i> to. It’s your twist.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps it is—” -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t one man in a million has that twist. Most men -want—well, various things, but very few want knowledge for its own sake. -<i>I</i> don’t, I know perfectly well. Now, these Selenites seem to be a -driving, busy sort of being, but how do you know that even the most intelligent -will take an interest in us or our world? I don’t believe they’ll -even know we have a world. They never come out at night—they’d -freeze if they did. They’ve probably never seen any heavenly body at all -except the blazing sun. How are they to know there is another world? What does -it matter to them if they do? Well, even if they <i>have</i> had a glimpse of a -few stars, or even of the earth crescent, what of that? Why should people -living <i>inside</i> a planet trouble to observe that sort of thing? Men -wouldn’t have done it except for the seasons and sailing; why should the -moon people?... -</p> - -<p> -“Well, suppose there are a few philosophers like yourself. They are just -the very Selenites who’ll never have heard of our existence. Suppose a -Selenite had dropped on the earth when you were at Lympne, you’d have -been the last man in the world to hear he had come. You never read a newspaper! -You see the chances against you. Well, it’s for these chances we’re -sitting here doing nothing while precious time is flying. I tell you -we’ve got into a fix. We’ve come unarmed, we’ve lost our -sphere, we’ve got no food, we’ve shown ourselves to the Selenites, -and made them think we’re strange, strong, dangerous animals; and unless -these Selenites are perfect fools, they’ll set about now and hunt us till -they find us, and when they find us they’ll try to take us if they can, -and kill us if they can’t, and that’s the end of the matter. If -they take us, they’ll probably kill us, through some misunderstanding. -After we’re done for, they may discuss us perhaps, but we shan’t -get much fun out of that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Go on.” -</p> - -<p> -“On the other hand, here’s gold knocking about like cast iron at -home. If only we can get some of it back, if only we can find our sphere again -before they do, and get back, then—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“We might put the thing on a sounder footing. Come back in a bigger -sphere with guns.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord!” cried Cavor, as though that was horrible. -</p> - -<p> -I shied another luminous fungus down the cleft. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here, Cavor,” I said, “I’ve half the voting power -anyhow in this affair, and this is a case for a practical man. I’m a -practical man, and you are not. I’m not going to trust to Selenites and -geometrical diagrams if I can help it. That’s all. Get back. Drop all -this secrecy—or most of it. And come again.” -</p> - -<p> -He reflected. “When I came to the moon,” he said, “I ought to -have come alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“The question before the meeting,” I said, “is how to get -back to the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -For a time we nursed our knees in silence. Then he seemed to decide for my -reasons. -</p> - -<p> -“I think,” he said, “one can get data. It is clear that while -the sun is on this side of the moon the air will be blowing through this planet -sponge from the dark side hither. On this side, at any rate, the air will be -expanding and flowing out of the moon caverns into the craters.... Very well, -there’s a draught here.” -</p> - -<p> -“So there is.” -</p> - -<p> -“And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this -cleft goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we have to -go. If we try to get up any sort of chimney or gully there is, we shall not -only get out of these passages where they are hunting for us—” -</p> - -<p> -“But suppose the gully is too narrow?” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll come down again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ssh!” I said suddenly; “what’s that?” -</p> - -<p> -We listened. At first it was an indistinct murmur, and then one picked out the -clang of a gong. “They must think we are mooncalves,” said I, -“to be frightened at that.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re coming along that passage,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“They must be.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’ll not think of the cleft. They’ll go past.” -</p> - -<p> -I listened again for a space. “This time,” I whispered, -“they’re likely to have some sort of weapon.” -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly I sprang to my feet. “Good heavens, Cavor!” I cried. -“But they <i>will!</i> They’ll see the fungi I have been pitching -down. They’ll—” -</p> - -<p> -I didn’t finish my sentence. I turned about and made a leap over the -fungus tops towards the upper end of the cavity. I saw that the space turned -upward and became a draughty cleft again, ascending to impenetrable darkness. I -was about to clamber up into this, and then with a happy inspiration turned -back. -</p> - -<p> -“What are you doing?” asked Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on!” said I, and went back and got two of the shining fungi, -and putting one into the breast pocket of my flannel jacket, so that it stuck -out to light our climbing, went back with the other for Cavor. The noise of the -Selenites was now so loud that it seemed they must be already beneath the -cleft. But it might be they would have difficulty in clambering in to it, or -might hesitate to ascend it against our possible resistance. At any rate, we -had now the comforting knowledge of the enormous muscular superiority our birth -in another planet gave us. In other minute I was clambering with gigantic -vigour after Cavor’s blue-lit heels. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap17"></a>XVII.<br /> -The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers</h2> - -<p> -I do not know how far we clambered before we came to the grating. It may be we -ascended only a few hundred feet, but at the time it seemed to me we might have -hauled and jammed and hopped and wedged ourselves through a mile or more of -vertical ascent. Whenever I recall that time, there comes into my head the -heavy clank of our golden chains that followed every movement. Very soon my -knuckles and knees were raw, and I had a bruise on one cheek. After a time the -first violence of our efforts diminished, and our movements became more -deliberate and less painful. The noise of the pursuing Selenites had died away -altogether. It seemed almost as though they had not traced us up the crack -after all, in spite of the tell-tale heap of broken fungi that must have lain -beneath it. At times the cleft narrowed so much that we could scarce squeeze up -it; at others it expanded into great drusy cavities, studded with prickly -crystals or thickly beset with dull, shining fungoid pimples. Sometimes it -twisted spirally, and at other times slanted down nearly to the horizontal -direction. Ever and again there was the intermittent drip and trickle of water -by us. Once or twice it seemed to us that small living things had rustled out -of our reach, but what they were we never saw. They may have been venomous -beasts for all I know, but they did us no harm, and we were now tuned to a -pitch when a weird creeping thing more or less mattered little. And at last, -far above, came the familiar bluish light again, and then we saw that it -filtered through a grating that barred our way. -</p> - -<p> -We whispered as we pointed this out to one another, and became more and more -cautious in our ascent. Presently we were close under the grating, and by -pressing my face against its bars I could see a limited portion of the cavern -beyond. It was clearly a large space, and lit no doubt by some rivulet of the -same blue light that we had seen flow from the beating machinery. An -intermittent trickle of water dropped ever and again between the bars near my -face. -</p> - -<p> -My first endeavour was naturally to see what might be upon the floor of the -cavern, but our grating lay in a depression whose rim hid all this from our -eyes. Our foiled attention then fell back upon the suggestion of the various -sounds we heard, and presently my eye caught a number of faint shadows that -played across the dim roof far overhead. -</p> - -<p> -Indisputably there were several Selenites, perhaps a considerable number, in -this space, for we could hear the noises of their intercourse, and faint sounds -that I identified as their footfalls. There was also a succession of regularly -repeated sounds—chid, chid, chid—which began and ceased, suggestive -of a knife or spade hacking at some soft substance. Then came a clank as if of -chains, a whistle and a rumble as of a truck running over a hollowed place, and -then again that chid, chid, chid resumed. The shadows told of shapes that moved -quickly and rhythmically, in agreement with that regular sound, and rested when -it ceased. -</p> - -<p> -We put our heads close together, and began to discuss these things in noiseless -whispers. -</p> - -<p> -“They are occupied,” I said, “they are occupied in some -way.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re not seeking us, or thinking of us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps they have not heard of us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Those others are hunting about below. If suddenly we appeared -here—” -</p> - -<p> -We looked at one another. -</p> - -<p> -“There might be a chance to parley,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said. “Not as we are.” -</p> - -<p> -For a space we remained, each occupied by his own thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Chid, chid, chid went the chipping, and the shadows moved to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -I looked at the grating. “It’s flimsy,” I said. “We -might bend two of the bars and crawl through.” -</p> - -<p> -We wasted a little time in vague discussion. Then I took one of the bars in -both hands, and got my feet up against the rock until they were almost on a -level with my head, and so thrust against the bar. It bent so suddenly that I -almost slipped. I clambered about and bent the adjacent bar in the opposite -direction, and then took the luminous fungus from my pocket and dropped it down -the fissure. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t do anything hastily,” whispered Cavor, as I twisted -myself up through the opening I had enlarged. I had a glimpse of busy figures -as I came through the grating, and immediately bent down, so that the rim of -the depression in which the grating lay hid me from their eyes, and so lay -flat, signalling advice to Cavor as he also prepared to come through. Presently -we were side by side in the depression, peering over the edge at the cavern and -its occupants. -</p> - -<p> -It was a much larger cavern than we had supposed from our first glimpse of it, -and we looked up from the lowest portion of its sloping floor. It widened out -as it receded from us, and its roof came down and hid the remoter portion -altogether. And lying in a line along its length, vanishing at last far away in -that tremendous perspective, were a number of huge shapes, huge pallid hulls, -upon which the Selenites were busy. At first they seemed big white cylinders of -vague import. Then I noted the heads upon them lying towards us, eyeless and -skinless like the heads of sheep at a butcher’s, and perceived they were -the carcasses of mooncalves being cut up, much as the crew of a whaler might -cut up a moored whale. They were cutting off the flesh in strips, and on some -of the farther trunks the white ribs were showing. It was the sound of their -hatchets that made that chid, chid, chid. Some way away a thing like a trolley -cable, drawn and loaded with chunks of lax meat, was running up the slope of -the cavern floor. This enormous long avenue of hulls that were destined to be -food gave us a sense of the vast populousness of the moon world second only to -the effect of our first glimpse down the shaft. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed to me at first that the Selenites must be standing on -trestle-supported planks,<a href="#fn-2" name="fnref-2" id="fnref-2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> -and then I saw that the planks and supports and the hatchets were really of the -same leaden hue as my fetters had seemed before white light came to bear on -them. A number of very thick-looking crowbars lay about the floor, and had -apparently assisted to turn the dead mooncalf over on its side. They were -perhaps six feet long, with shaped handles, very tempting-looking weapons. The -whole place was lit by three transverse streams of the blue fluid. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a name="fn-2" id="fn-2"></a> <a href="#fnref-2">[2]</a> -I do not remember seeing any wooden things on the moon; doors, tables, -everything corresponding to our terrestrial joinery was made of metal, and I -believe for the most part of gold, which as a metal would, of course, naturally -recommend itself—other things being equal—on account of the ease in -working it, and its toughness and durability. -</p> - -<p> -We lay for a long time noting all these things in silence. “Well?” -said Cavor at last. -</p> - -<p> -I crouched over and turned to him. I had come upon a brilliant idea. -“Unless they lowered those bodies by a crane,” I said, “we -must be nearer the surface than I thought.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“The mooncalf doesn’t hop, and it hasn’t got wings.” -</p> - -<p> -He peered over the edge of the hollow again. “I wonder now—” -he began. “After all, we have never gone far from the -surface—” -</p> - -<p> -I stopped him by a grip on his arm. I had heard a noise from the cleft below -us! -</p> - -<p> -We twisted ourselves about, and lay as still as death, with every sense alert. -In a little while I did not doubt that something was quietly ascending the -cleft. Very slowly and quite noiselessly I assured myself of a good grip on my -chain, and waited for that something to appear. -</p> - -<p> -“Just look at those chaps with the hatchets again,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“They’re all right,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -I took a sort of provisional aim at the gap in the grating. I could hear now -quite distinctly the soft twittering of the ascending Selenites, the dab of -their hands against the rock, and the falling of dust from their grips as they -clambered. -</p> - -<p> -Then I could see that there was something moving dimly in the blackness below -the grating, but what it might be I could not distinguish. The whole thing -seemed to hang fire just for a moment—then smash! I had sprung to my -feet, struck savagely at something that had flashed out at me. It was the keen -point of a spear. I have thought since that its length in the narrowness of the -cleft must have prevented its being sloped to reach me. Anyhow, it shot out -from the grating like the tongue of a snake, and missed and flew back and -flashed again. But the second time I snatched and caught it, and wrenched it -away, but not before another had darted ineffectually at me. -</p> - -<p> -I shouted with triumph as I felt the hold of the Selenite resist my pull for a -moment and give, and then I was jabbing down through the bars, amidst squeals -from the darkness, and Cavor had snapped off the other spear, and was leaping -and flourishing it beside me, and making inefficient jabs. Clang, clang, came -up through the grating, and then an axe hurtled through the air and whacked -against the rocks beyond, to remind me of the fleshers at the carcasses up the -cavern. -</p> - -<p> -I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving their axes. -They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, strikingly different -from the ones we had seen before. If they had not heard of us before, they must -have realised the situation with incredible swiftness. I stared at them for a -moment, spear in hand. “Guard that grating, Cavor,” I cried, howled -to intimidate them, and rushed to meet them. Two of them missed with their -hatchets, and the rest fled incontinently. Then the two also were sprinting -away up the cavern, with hands clenched and heads down. I never saw men run -like them! -</p> - -<p> -I knew the spear I had was no good for me. It was thin and flimsy, only -effectual for a thrust, and too long for a quick recover. So I only chased the -Selenites as far as the first carcass, and stopped there and picked up one of -the crowbars that were lying about. It felt comfortingly heavy, and equal to -smashing any number of Selenites. I threw away my spear, and picked up a second -crowbar for the other hand. I felt five times better than I had with the spear. -I shook the two threateningly at the Selenites, who had come to a halt in a -little crowd far away up the cavern, and then turned about to look at Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -He was leaping from side to side of the grating, making threatening jabs with -his broken spear. That was all right. It would keep the Selenites -down—for a time at any rate. I looked up the cavern again. What on earth -were we going to do now? -</p> - -<p> -We were cornered in a sort of way already. But these butchers up the cavern had -been surprised, they were probably scared, and they had no special weapons, -only those little hatchets of theirs. And that way lay escape. Their sturdy -little forms—ever so much shorter and thicker than the mooncalf -herds—were scattered up the slope in a way that was eloquent of -indecision. I had the moral advantage of a mad bull in a street. But for all -that, there seemed a tremendous crowd of them. Very probably there was. Those -Selenites down the cleft had certainly some infernally long spears. It might be -they had other surprises for us.... But, confound it! if we charged up the cave -we should let them up behind us, and if we didn’t those little brutes up -the cave would probably get reinforced. Heaven alone knew what tremendous -engines of warfare—guns, bombs, terrestrial torpedoes—this unknown -world below our feet, this vaster world of which we had only pricked the outer -cuticle, might not presently send up to our destruction. It became clear the -only thing to do was to charge! It became clearer as the legs of a number of -fresh Selenites appeared running down the cavern towards us. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” cried Cavor, and behold! he was halfway between me and -the grating. -</p> - -<p> -“Go back!” I cried. “What are you doing—” -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve got—it’s like a gun!” -</p> - -<p> -And struggling in the grating between those defensive spears appeared the head -and shoulders of a singularly lean and angular Selenite, bearing some -complicated apparatus. -</p> - -<p> -I realised Cavor’s utter incapacity for the fight we had in hand. For a -moment I hesitated. Then I rushed past him whirling my crowbars, and shouting -to confound the aim of the Selenite. He was aiming in the queerest way with the -thing against his stomach. “<i>Chuzz!</i>” The thing wasn’t a -gun; it went off like a cross-bow more, and dropped me in the middle of a leap. -</p> - -<p> -I didn’t fall down, I simply came down a little shorter than I should -have done if I hadn’t been hit, and from the feel of my shoulder the -thing might have tapped me and glanced off. Then my left hand hit against the -shaft, and I perceived there was a sort of spear sticking half through my -shoulder. The moment after I got home with the crowbar in my right hand, and -hit the Selenite fair and square. He collapsed—he crushed and -crumpled—his head smashed like an egg. -</p> - -<p> -I dropped a crowbar, pulled the spear out of my shoulder, and began to jab it -down the grating into the darkness. At each jab came a shriek and twitter. -Finally I hurled the spear down upon them with all my strength, leapt up, -picked up the crowbar again, and started for the multitude up the cavern. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” cried Cavor. “Bedford!” as I flew past him. -</p> - -<p> -I seem to remember his footsteps coming on behind me. -</p> - -<p> -Step, leap ... whack, step, leap.... Each leap seemed to last ages. With each, -the cave opened out and the number of Selenites visible increased. At first -they seemed all running about like ants in a disturbed ant-hill, one or two -waving hatchets and coming to meet me, more running away, some bolting sideways -into the avenue of carcasses, then presently others came in sight carrying -spears, and then others. I saw a most extraordinary thing, all hands and feet, -bolting for cover. The cavern grew darker farther up. -</p> - -<p> -Flick! something flew over my head. Flick! As I soared in mid-stride I saw a -spear hit and quiver in one of the carcasses to my left. Then, as I came down, -one hit the ground before me, and I heard the remote chuzz! with which their -things were fired. Flick, flick! for a moment it was a shower. They were -volleying! -</p> - -<p> -I stopped dead. -</p> - -<p> -I don’t think I thought clearly then. I seem to remember a kind of -stereotyped phrase running through my mind: “Zone of fire, seek -cover!” I know I made a dash for the space between two of the carcasses, -and stood there panting and feeling very wicked. -</p> - -<p> -I looked round for Cavor, and for a moment it seemed as if he had vanished from -the world. Then he came out of the darkness between the row of the carcasses -and the rocky wall of the cavern. I saw his little face, dark and blue, and -shining with perspiration and emotion. -</p> - -<p> -He was saying something, but what it was I did not heed. I had realised that we -might work from mooncalf to mooncalf up the cave until we were near enough to -charge home. It was charge or nothing. “Come on!” I said, and led -the way. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” he cried unavailingly. -</p> - -<p> -My mind was busy as we went up that narrow alley between the dead bodies and -the wall of the cavern. The rocks curved about—they could not enfilade -us. Though in that narrow space we could not leap, yet with our earth-born -strength we were still able to go very much faster than the Selenites. I -reckoned we should presently come right among them. Once we were on them, they -would be nearly as formidable as black beetles. Only there would first of all -be a volley. I thought of a stratagem. I whipped off my flannel jacket as I -ran. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” panted Cavor behind me. -</p> - -<p> -I glanced back. “What?” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He was pointing upward over the carcasses. “White light!” he said. -“White light again!” -</p> - -<p> -I looked, and it was even so; a faint white ghost of light in the remoter -cavern roof. That seemed to give me double strength. -</p> - -<p> -“Keep close,” I said. A flat, long Selenite dashed out of the -darkness, and squealed and fled. I halted, and stopped Cavor with my hand. I -hung my jacket over my crowbar, ducked round the next carcass, dropped jacket -and crowbar, showed myself, and darted back. -</p> - -<p> -“Chuzz-flick,” just one arrow came. We were close on the Selenites, -and they were standing in a crowd, broad, short, and tall together, with a -little battery of their shooting implements pointing down the cave. Three or -four other arrows followed the first, then their fire ceased. -</p> - -<p> -I stuck out my head, and escaped by a hair’s-breadth. This time I drew a -dozen shots or more, and heard the Selenites shouting and twittering as if with -excitement as they shot. I picked up jacket and crowbar again. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Now!</i>” said I, and thrust out the jacket. -</p> - -<p> -“Chuzz-zz-zz-zz! Chuzz!” In an instant my jacket had grown a thick -beard of arrows, and they were quivering all over the carcass behind us. -Instantly I slipped the crowbar out of the jacket, dropped the jacket—for -all I know to the contrary it is lying up there in the moon now—and -rushed out upon them. -</p> - -<p> -For a minute perhaps it was massacre. I was too fierce to discriminate, and the -Selenites were probably too scared to fight. At any rate they made no sort of -fight against me. I saw scarlet, as the saying is. I remember I seemed to be -wading among those leathery, thin things as a man wades through tall grass, -mowing and hitting, first right, then left; smash. Little drops of moisture -flew about. I trod on things that crushed and piped and went slippery. The -crowd seemed to open and close and flow like water. They seemed to have no -combined plan whatever. There were spears flew about me, I was grazed over the -ear by one. I was stabbed once in the arm and once in the cheek, but I only -found that out afterwards, when the blood had had time to run and cool and feel -wet. -</p> - -<p> -What Cavor did I do not know. For a space it seemed that this fighting had -lasted for an age, and must needs go on for ever. Then suddenly it was all -over, and there was nothing to be seen but the backs of heads bobbing up and -down as their owners ran in all directions.... I seemed altogether unhurt. I -ran forward some paces, shouting, then turned about. I was amazed. -</p> - -<p> -I had come right through them in vast flying strides, they were all behind me, -and running hither and thither to hide. -</p> - -<p> -I felt an enormous astonishment at the evaporation of the great fight into -which I had hurled myself, and not a little exultation. It did not seem to me -that I had discovered the Selenites were unexpectedly flimsy, but that I was -unexpectedly strong. I laughed stupidly. This fantastic moon! -</p> - -<p> -I glanced for a moment at the smashed and writhing bodies that were scattered -over the cavern floor, with a vague idea of further violence, then hurried on -after Cavor. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap18"></a>XVIII.<br /> -In the Sunlight</h2> - -<p> -Presently we saw that the cavern before us opened upon a hazy void. In another -moment we had emerged upon a sort of slanting gallery, that projected into a -vast circular space, a huge cylindrical pit running vertically up and down. -Round this pit the slanting gallery ran without any parapet or protection for a -turn and a half, and then plunged high above into the rock again. Somehow it -reminded me then of one of those spiral turns of the railway through the Saint -Gothard. It was all tremendously huge. I can scarcely hope to convey to you the -Titanic proportion of all that place, the Titanic effect of it. Our eyes -followed up the vast declivity of the pit wall, and overhead and far above we -beheld a round opening set with faint stars, and half of the lip about it well -nigh blinding with the white light of the sun. At that we cried aloud -simultaneously. -</p> - -<p> -“Come on!” I said, leading the way. -</p> - -<p> -“But there?” said Cavor, and very carefully stepped nearer the edge -of the gallery. I followed his example, and craned forward and looked down, but -I was dazzled by that gleam of light above, and I could see only a bottomless -darkness with spectral patches of crimson and purple floating therein. Yet if I -could not see, I could hear. Out of this darkness came a sound, a sound like -the angry hum one can hear if one puts one’s ear outside a hive of bees, -a sound out of that enormous hollow, it may be, four miles beneath our feet... -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I listened, then tightened my grip on my crowbar, and led the way -up the gallery. -</p> - -<p> -“This must be the shaft we looked down upon,” said Cavor. -“Under that lid.” -</p> - -<p> -“And below there, is where we saw the lights.” -</p> - -<p> -“The lights!” said he. “Yes—the lights of the world -that now we shall never see.” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll come back,” I said, for now we had escaped so much I -was rashly sanguine that we should recover the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -His answer I did not catch. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“It doesn’t matter,” he answered, and we hurried on in -silence. -</p> - -<p> -I suppose that slanting lateral way was four or five miles long, allowing for -its curvature, and it ascended at a slope that would have made it almost -impossibly steep on earth, but which one strode up easily under lunar -conditions. We saw only two Selenites during all that portion of our flight, -and directly they became aware of us they ran headlong. It was clear that the -knowledge of our strength and violence had reached them. Our way to the -exterior was unexpectedly plain. The spiral gallery straightened into a steeply -ascendent tunnel, its floor bearing abundant traces of the mooncalves, and so -straight and short in proportion to its vast arch, that no part of it was -absolutely dark. Almost immediately it began to lighten, and then far off and -high up, and quite blindingly brilliant, appeared its opening on the exterior, -a slope of Alpine steepness surmounted by a crest of bayonet shrub, tall and -broken down now, and dry and dead, in spiky silhouette against the sun. -</p> - -<p> -And it is strange that we men, to whom this very vegetation had seemed so weird -and horrible a little time ago, should now behold it with the emotion a -home-coming exile might feel at sight of his native land. We welcomed even the -rareness of the air that made us pant as we ran, and which rendered speaking no -longer the easy thing that it had been, but an effort to make oneself heard. -Larger grew the sunlit circle above us, and larger, and all the nearer tunnel -sank into a rim of indistinguishable black. We saw the dead bayonet shrub no -longer with any touch of green in it, but brown and dry and thick, and the -shadow of its upper branches high out of sight made a densely interlaced -pattern upon the tumbled rocks. And at the immediate mouth of the tunnel was a -wide trampled space where the mooncalves had come and gone. -</p> - -<p> -We came out upon this space at last into a light and heat that hit and pressed -upon us. We traversed the exposed area painfully, and clambered up a slope -among the scrub stems, and sat down at last panting in a high place beneath the -shadow of a mass of twisted lava. Even in the shade the rock felt hot. -</p> - -<p> -The air was intensely hot, and we were in great physical discomfort, but for -all that we were no longer in a nightmare. We seemed to have come to our own -province again, beneath the stars. All the fear and stress of our flight -through the dim passages and fissures below had fallen from us. That last fight -had filled us with an enormous confidence in ourselves so far as the Selenites -were concerned. We looked back almost incredulously at the black opening from -which we had just emerged. Down there it was, in a blue glow that now in our -memories seemed the next thing to absolute darkness, we had met with things -like mad mockeries of men, helmet-headed creatures, and had walked in fear -before them, and had submitted to them until we could submit no longer. And -behold, they had smashed like wax and scattered like chaff, and fled and -vanished like the creatures of a dream! -</p> - -<p> -I rubbed my eyes, doubting whether we had not slept and dreamt these things by -reason of the fungus we had eaten, and suddenly discovered the blood upon my -face, and then that my shirt was sticking painfully to my shoulder and arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said, gauging my injuries with an investigatory -hand, and suddenly that distant tunnel mouth became, as it were, a watching -eye. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I said; “what are they going to do now? And what are -we going to do?” -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head, with his eyes fixed upon the tunnel. “How can one tell -what they will do?” -</p> - -<p> -“It depends on what they think of us, and I don’t see how we can -begin to guess that. And it depends upon what they have in reserve. It’s -as you say, Cavor, we have touched the merest outside of this world. They may -have all sorts of things inside here. Even with those shooting things they -might make it bad for us.... -</p> - -<p> -“Yet after all,” I said, “even if we <i>don’t</i> find -the sphere at once, there is a chance for us. We might hold out. Even through -the night. We might go down there again and make a fight for it.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared about me with speculative eyes. The character of the scenery had -altered altogether by reason of the enormous growth and subsequent drying of -the scrub. The crest on which we sat was high, and commanded a wide prospect of -the crater landscape, and we saw it now all sere and dry in the late autumn of -the lunar afternoon. Rising one behind the other were long slopes and fields of -trampled brown where the mooncalves had pastured, and far away in the full -blaze of the sun a drove of them basked slumberously, scattered shapes, each -with a blot of shadow against it like sheep on the side of a down. But never a -sign of a Selenite was to be seen. Whether they had fled on our emergence from -the interior passages, or whether they were accustomed to retire after driving -out the mooncalves, I cannot guess. At the time I believed the former was the -case. -</p> - -<p> -“If we were to set fire to all this stuff,” I said, “we might -find the sphere among the ashes.” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor did not seem to hear me. He was peering under his hand at the stars, that -still, in spite of the intense sunlight, were abundantly visible in the sky. -“How long do you think we’ve have been here?” he asked at -last. -</p> - -<p> -“Been where?” -</p> - -<p> -“On the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Two earthly days, perhaps.” -</p> - -<p> -“More nearly ten. Do you know, the sun is past its zenith, and sinking in -the west. In four days’ time or less it will be night.” -</p> - -<p> -“But—we’ve only eaten once!” -</p> - -<p> -“I know that. And— But there are the stars!” -</p> - -<p> -“But why should time seem different because we are on a smaller -planet?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. There it is!” -</p> - -<p> -“How does one tell time?” -</p> - -<p> -“Hunger—fatigue—all those things are different. Everything is -different—everything. To me it seems that since first we came out of the -sphere has been only a question of hours—long hours—at most.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ten days,” I said; “that leaves—” I looked up at -the sun for a moment, and then saw that it was halfway from the zenith to the -western edge of things. “Four days! ... Cavor, we mustn’t sit here -and dream. How do you think we may begin?” -</p> - -<p> -I stood up. “We must get a fixed point we can recognise—we might -hoist a flag, or a handkerchief, or something—and quarter the ground, and -work round that.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood up beside me. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said, “there is nothing for it but to hunt the -sphere. Nothing. We may find it—certainly we may find it. And if -not—” -</p> - -<p> -“We must keep on looking.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked this way and that, glanced up at the sky and down at the tunnel, and -astonished me by a sudden gesture of impatience. “Oh! but we have done -foolishly! To have come to this pass! Think how it might have been, and the -things we might have done!” -</p> - -<p> -“We might do something yet.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never the thing we might have done. Here below our feet is a world. -Think of what that world must be! Think of that machine we saw, and the lid and -the shaft! They were just remote outlying things, and those creatures we have -seen and fought with no more than ignorant peasants, dwellers in the outskirts, -yokels and labourers half akin to brutes. Down below! Caverns beneath caverns, -tunnels, structures, ways... It must open out, and be greater and wider and -more populous as one descends. Assuredly. Right down at the last the central -sea that washes round the core of the moon. Think of its inky waters under the -spare lights—if, indeed, their eyes <i>need</i> lights! Think of the -cascading tributaries pouring down their channels to feed it! Think of the -tides upon its surface, and the rush and swirl of its ebb and flow! Perhaps -they have ships that go upon it, perhaps down there are mighty cities and -swarming ways, and wisdom and order passing the wit of man. And we may die here -upon it, and never see the masters who <i>must</i> be—ruling over these -things! We may freeze and die here, and the air will freeze and thaw upon us, -and then—! Then they will come upon us, come on our stiff and silent -bodies, and find the sphere we cannot find, and they will understand at last -too late all the thought and effort that ended here in vain!” -</p> - -<p> -His voice for all that speech sounded like the voice of someone heard in a -telephone, weak and far away. -</p> - -<p> -“But the darkness,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“One might get over that.” -</p> - -<p> -“How?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. How am I to know? One might carry a torch, one might -have a lamp— The others—might understand.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood for a moment with his hands held down and a rueful face, staring out -over the waste that defied him. Then with a gesture of renunciation he turned -towards me with proposals for the systematic hunting of the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -“We can return,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He looked about him. “First of all we shall have to get to earth.” -</p> - -<p> -“We could bring back lamps to carry and climbing irons, and a hundred -necessary things.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“We can take back an earnest of success in this gold.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at my golden crowbars, and said nothing for a space. He stood with -his hands clasped behind his back, staring across the crater. At last he signed -and spoke. “It was <i>I</i> found the way here, but to find a way -isn’t always to be master of a way. If I take my secret back to earth, -what will happen? I do not see how I can keep my secret for a year, for even a -part of a year. Sooner or later it must come out, even if other men rediscover -it. And then ... Governments and powers will struggle to get hither, they will -fight against one another, and against these moon people; it will only spread -warfare and multiply the occasions of war. In a little while, in a very little -while, if I tell my secret, this planet to its deepest galleries will be strewn -with human dead. Other things are doubtful, but that is certain. It is not as -though man had any use for the moon. What good would the moon be to men? Even -of their own planet what have they made but a battle-ground and theatre of -infinite folly? Small as his world is, and short as his time, he has still in -his little life down there far more than he can do. No! Science has toiled too -long forging weapons for fools to use. It is time she held her hand. Let him -find it out for himself again—in a thousand years’ time.” -</p> - -<p> -“There are methods of secrecy,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He looked up at me and smiled. “After all,” he said, “why -should one worry? There is little chance of our finding the sphere, and down -below things are brewing. It’s simply the human habit of hoping till we -die that makes us think of return. Our troubles are only beginning. We have -shown these moon folk violence, we have given them a taste of our quality, and -our chances are about as good as a tiger’s that has got loose and killed -a man in Hyde Park. The news of us must be running down from gallery to -gallery, down towards the central parts.... No sane beings will ever let us -take that sphere back to earth after so much as they have seen of us.” -</p> - -<p> -“We aren’t improving our chances,” said I, “by sitting -here.” -</p> - -<p> -We stood up side by side. -</p> - -<p> -“After all,” he said, “we must separate. We must stick up a -handkerchief on these tall spikes here and fasten it firmly, and from this as a -centre we must work over the crater. You must go westward, moving out in -semicircles to and fro towards the setting sun. You must move first with your -shadow on your right until it is at right angles with the direction of your -handkerchief, and then with your shadow on your left. And I will do the same to -the east. We will look into every gully, examine every skerry of rocks; we will -do all we can to find my sphere. If we see the Selenites we will hide from them -as well as we can. For drink we must take snow, and if we feel the need of -food, we must kill a mooncalf if we can, and eat such flesh as it -has—raw—and so each will go his own way.” -</p> - -<p> -“And if one of us comes upon the sphere?” -</p> - -<p> -“He must come back to the white handkerchief, and stand by it and signal -to the other.” -</p> - -<p> -“And if neither?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor glanced up at the sun. “We go on seeking until the night and cold -overtake us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Suppose the Selenites have found the sphere and hidden it?” -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Or if presently they come hunting us?” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“You had better take a club,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head, and stared away from me across the waste. -</p> - -<p> -But for a moment he did not start. He looked round at me shyly, hesitated. -“<i>Au revoir</i>,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -I felt an odd stab of emotion. A sense of how we had galled each other, and -particularly how I must have galled him, came to me. “Confound it,” -thought I, “we might have done better!” I was on the point of -asking him to shake hands—for that, somehow, was how I felt just -then—when he put his feet together and leapt away from me towards the -north. He seemed to drift through the air as a dead leaf would do, fell -lightly, and leapt again. I stood for a moment watching him, then faced -westward reluctantly, pulled myself together, and with something of the feeling -of a man who leaps into icy water, selected a leaping point, and plunged -forward to explore my solitary half of the moon world. I dropped rather -clumsily among rocks, stood up and looked about me, clambered on to a rocky -slab, and leapt again.... -</p> - -<p> -When presently I looked for Cavor he was hidden from my eyes, but the -handkerchief showed out bravely on its headland, white in the blaze of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -I determined not to lose sight of that handkerchief whatever might betide. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap19"></a>XIX.<br /> -Mr. Bedford Alone</h2> - -<p> -In a little while it seemed to me as though I had always been alone on the -moon. I hunted for a time with a certain intentness, but the heat was still -very great, and the thinness of the air felt like a hoop about one’s -chest. I came presently into a hollow basin bristling with tall, brown, dry -fronds about its edge, and I sat down under these to rest and cool. I intended -to rest for only a little while. I put down my clubs beside me, and sat resting -my chin on my hands. I saw with a sort of colourless interest that the rocks of -the basin, where here and there the crackling dry lichens had shrunk away to -show them, were all veined and splattered with gold, that here and there bosses -of rounded and wrinkled gold projected from among the litter. What did that -matter now? A sort of languor had possession of my limbs and mind, I did not -believe for a moment that we should ever find the sphere in that vast -desiccated wilderness. I seemed to lack a motive for effort until the Selenites -should come. Then I supposed I should exert myself, obeying that unreasonable -imperative that urges a man before all things to preserve and defend his life, -albeit he may preserve it only to die more painfully in a little while. -</p> - -<p> -Why had we come to the moon? -</p> - -<p> -The thing presented itself to me as a perplexing problem. What is this spirit -in man that urges him for ever to depart from happiness and security, to toil, -to place himself in danger, to risk even a reasonable certainty of death? It -dawned upon me up there in the moon as a thing I ought always to have known, -that man is not made simply to go about being safe and comfortable and well fed -and amused. Almost any man, if you put the thing to him, not in words, but in -the shape of opportunities, will show that he knows as much. Against his -interest, against his happiness, he is constantly being driven to do -unreasonable things. Some force not himself impels him, and go he must. But -why? Why? Sitting there in the midst of that useless moon gold, amidst the -things of another world, I took count of all my life. Assuming I was to die a -castaway upon the moon, I failed altogether to see what purpose I had served. I -got no light on that point, but at any rate it was clearer to me than it had -ever been in my life before that I was not serving my own purpose, that all my -life I had in truth never served the purposes of my private life. Whose -purposes, what purposes, was I serving? ... I ceased to speculate on why we had -come to the moon, and took a wider sweep. Why had I come to the earth? Why had -I a private life at all? ... I lost myself at last in bottomless -speculations.... -</p> - -<p> -My thoughts became vague and cloudy, no longer leading in definite directions. -I had not felt heavy or weary—I cannot imagine one doing so upon the -moon—but I suppose I was greatly fatigued. At any rate I slept. -</p> - -<p> -Slumbering there rested me greatly, I think, and the sun was setting and the -violence of the heat abating, through all the time I slumbered. When at last I -was roused from my slumbers by a remote clamour, I felt active and capable -again. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. I rose to my feet—I was a -little stiff—and at once prepared to resume my search. I shouldered my -golden clubs, one on each shoulder, and went on out of the ravine of the -gold-veined rocks. -</p> - -<p> -The sun was certainly lower, much lower than it had been; the air was very much -cooler. I perceived I must have slept some time. It seemed to me that a faint -touch of misty blueness hung about the western cliff. I leapt to a little boss -of rock and surveyed the crater. I could see no signs of mooncalves or -Selenites, nor could I see Cavor, but I could see my handkerchief far off, -spread out on its thicket of thorns. I looked about me, and then leapt forward -to the next convenient view-point. -</p> - -<p> -I beat my way round in a semicircle, and back again in a still remoter -crescent. It was very fatiguing and hopeless. The air was really very much -cooler, and it seemed to me that the shadow under the westward cliff was -growing broad. Ever and again I stopped and reconnoitred, but there was no sign -of Cavor, no sign of Selenites; and it seemed to me the mooncalves must have -been driven into the interior again—I could see none of them. I became -more and more desirous of seeing Cavor. The winged outline of the sun had sunk -now, until it was scarcely the distance of its diameter from the rim of the -sky. I was oppressed by the idea that the Selenites would presently close their -lids and valves, and shut us out under the inexorable onrush of the lunar -night. It seemed to me high time that he abandoned his search, and that we took -counsel together. I felt how urgent it was that we should decide soon upon our -course. We had failed to find the sphere, we no longer had time to seek it, and -once these valves were closed with us outside, we were lost men. The great -night of space would descend upon us—that blackness of the void which is -the only absolute death. All my being shrank from that approach. We must get -into the moon again, though we were slain in doing it. I was haunted by a -vision of our freezing to death, of our hammering with our last strength on the -valve of the great pit. -</p> - -<p> -I took no thought any more of the sphere. I thought only of finding Cavor -again. I was half inclined to go back into the moon without him, rather than -seek him until it was too late. I was already half-way back towards our -handkerchief, when suddenly— -</p> - -<p> -I saw the sphere! -</p> - -<p> -I did not find it so much as it found me. It was lying much farther to the -westward than I had gone, and the sloping rays of the sinking sun reflected -from its glass had suddenly proclaimed its presence in a dazzling beam. For an -instant I thought this was some new device of the Selenites against us, and -then I understood. -</p> - -<p> -I threw up my arms, shouted a ghostly shout, and set off in vast leaps towards -it. I missed one of my leaps and dropped into a deep ravine and twisted my -ankle, and after that I stumbled at almost every leap. I was in a state of -hysterical agitation, trembling violently, and quite breathless long before I -got to it. Three times at least I had to stop with my hands resting on my side -and in spite of the thin dryness of the air, the perspiration was wet upon my -face. -</p> - -<p> -I thought of nothing but the sphere until I reached it, I forgot even my -trouble of Cavor’s whereabouts. My last leap flung me with my hands hard -against its glass; then I lay against it panting, and trying vainly to shout, -“Cavor! here is the sphere!” When I had recovered a little I peered -through the thick glass, and the things inside seemed tumbled. I stooped to -peer closer. Then I attempted to get in. I had to hoist it over a little to get -my head through the manhole. The screw stopper was inside, and I could see now -that nothing had been touched, nothing had suffered. It lay there as we had -left it when we had dropped out amidst the snow. For a time I was wholly -occupied in making and remaking this inventory. I found I was trembling -violently. It was good to see that familiar dark interior again! I cannot tell -you how good. Presently I crept inside and sat down among the things. I looked -through the glass at the moon world and shivered. I placed my gold clubs upon -the table, and sought out and took a little food; not so much because I wanted -it, but because it was there. Then it occurred to me that it was time to go out -and signal for Cavor. But I did not go out and signal for Cavor forthwith. -Something held me to the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -After all, everything was coming right. There would be still time for us to get -more of the magic stone that gives one mastery over men. Away there, close -handy, was gold for the picking up; and the sphere would travel as well half -full of gold as though it were empty. We could go back now, masters of -ourselves and our world, and then— -</p> - -<p> -I roused myself at last, and with an effort got myself out of the sphere. I -shivered as I emerged, for the evening air was growing very cold. I stood in -the hollow staring about me. I scrutinised the bushes round me very carefully -before I leapt to the rocky shelf hard by, and took once more what had been my -first leap in the moon. But now I made it with no effort whatever. -</p> - -<p> -The growth and decay of the vegetation had gone on apace, and the whole aspect -of the rocks had changed, but still it was possible to make out the slope on -which the seeds had germinated, and the rocky mass from which we had taken our -first view of the crater. But the spiky shrub on the slope stood brown and sere -now, and thirty feet high, and cast long shadows that stretched out of sight, -and the little seeds that clustered in its upper branches were brown and ripe. -Its work was done, and it was brittle and ready to fall and crumple under the -freezing air, so soon as the nightfall came. And the huge cacti, that had -swollen as we watched them, had long since burst and scattered their spores to -the four quarters of the moon. Amazing little corner in the universe—the -landing place of men! -</p> - -<p> -Some day, thought I, I will have an inscription standing there right in the -midst of the hollow. It came to me, if only this teeming world within knew of -the full import of the moment, how furious its tumult would become! -</p> - -<p> -But as yet it could scarcely be dreaming of the significance of our coming. For -if it did, the crater would surely be an uproar of pursuit, instead of as still -as death! I looked about for some place from which I might signal Cavor, and -saw that same patch of rock to which he had leapt from my present standpoint, -still bare and barren in the sun. For a moment I hesitated at going so far from -the sphere. Then with a pang of shame at that hesitation, I leapt.... -</p> - -<p> -From this vantage point I surveyed the crater again. Far away at the top of the -enormous shadow I cast was the little white handkerchief fluttering on the -bushes. It was very little and very far, and Cavor was not in sight. It seemed -to me that by this time he ought to be looking for me. That was the agreement. -But he was nowhere to be seen. -</p> - -<p> -I stood waiting and watching, hands shading my eyes, expecting every moment to -distinguish him. Very probably I stood there for quite a long time. I tried to -shout, and was reminded of the thinness of the air. I made an undecided step -back towards the sphere. But a lurking dread of the Selenites made me hesitate -to signal my whereabouts by hoisting one of our sleeping-blankets on to the -adjacent scrub. I searched the crater again. -</p> - -<p> -It had an effect of emptiness that chilled me. And it was still. Any sound from -the Selenites in the world beneath had died away. It was as still as death. -Save for the faint stir of the shrub about me in the little breeze that was -rising, there was no sound nor shadow of a sound. And the breeze blew chill. -</p> - -<p> -Confound Cavor! -</p> - -<p> -I took a deep breath. I put my hands to the sides of my mouth. -“Cavor!” I bawled, and the sound was like some manikin shouting far -away. -</p> - -<p> -I looked at the handkerchief, I looked behind me at the broadening shadow of -the westward cliff, I looked under my hand at the sun. It seemed to me that -almost visibly it was creeping down the sky. -</p> - -<p> -I felt I must act instantly if I was to save Cavor. I whipped off my vest and -flung it as a mark on the sere bayonets of the shrubs behind me, and then set -off in a straight line towards the handkerchief. Perhaps it was a couple of -miles away—a matter of a few hundred leaps and strides. I have already -told how one seemed to hang through those lunar leaps. In each suspense I -sought Cavor, and marvelled why he should be hidden. In each leap I could feel -the sun setting behind me. Each time I touched the ground I was tempted to go -back. -</p> - -<p> -A last leap and I was in the depression below our handkerchief, a stride, and I -stood on our former vantage point within arms’ reach of it. I stood up -straight and scanned the world about me, between its lengthening bars of -shadow. Far away, down a long declivity, was the opening of the tunnel up which -we had fled, and my shadow reached towards it, stretched towards it, and -touched it, like a finger of the night. -</p> - -<p> -Not a sign of Cavor, not a sound in all the stillness, only the stir and waving -of the scrub and of the shadows increased. And suddenly and violently I -shivered. “Cav—” I began, and realised once more the -uselessness of the human voice in that thin air. Silence. The silence of death. -</p> - -<p> -Then it was my eye caught something—a little thing lying, perhaps fifty -yards away down the slope, amidst a litter of bent and broken branches. What -was it? I knew, and yet for some reason I would not know. I went nearer to it. -It was the little cricket-cap Cavor had worn. I did not touch it, I stood -looking at it. -</p> - -<p> -I saw then that the scattered branches about it had been forcibly smashed and -trampled. I hesitated, stepped forward, and picked it up. -</p> - -<p> -I stood with Cavor’s cap in my hand, staring at the trampled reeds and -thorns about me. On some of them were little smears of something dark, -something that I dared not touch. A dozen yards away, perhaps, the rising -breeze dragged something into view, something small and vividly white. -</p> - -<p> -It was a little piece of paper crumpled tightly, as though it had been clutched -tightly. I picked it up, and on it were smears of red. My eye caught faint -pencil marks. I smoothed it out, and saw uneven and broken writing ending at -last in a crooked streak upon the paper. -</p> - -<p> -I set myself to decipher this. -</p> - -<p> -“I have been injured about the knee, I think my kneecap is hurt, and I -cannot run or crawl,” it began—pretty distinctly written. -</p> - -<p> -Then less legibly: “They have been chasing me for some time, and it is -only a question of”—the word “time” seemed to have been -written here and erased in favour of something illegible—“before -they get me. They are beating all about me.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the writing became convulsive. “I can hear them,” I guessed -the tracing meant, and then it was quite unreadable for a space. Then came a -little string of words that were quite distinct: “a different sort of -Selenite altogether, who appears to be directing the—” The writing -became a mere hasty confusion again. -</p> - -<p> -“They have larger brain cases—much larger, and slenderer bodies, -and very short legs. They make gentle noises, and move with organized -deliberation... -</p> - -<p> -“And though I am wounded and helpless here, their appearance still gives -me hope.” That was like Cavor. “They have not shot at me or -attempted... injury. I intend—” -</p> - -<p> -Then came the sudden streak of the pencil across the paper, and on the back and -edges—blood! -</p> - -<p> -And as I stood there stupid, and perplexed, with this dumbfounding relic in my -hand, something very soft and light and chill touched my hand for a moment and -ceased to be, and then a thing, a little white speck, drifted athwart a shadow. -It was a tiny snowflake, the first snowflake, the herald of the night. -</p> - -<p> -I looked up with a start, and the sky had darkened almost to blackness, and was -thick with a gathering multitude of coldly watchful stars. I looked eastward, -and the light of that shrivelled world was touched with sombre bronze; -westward, and the sun robbed now by a thickening white mist of half its heat -and splendour, was touching the crater rim, was sinking out of sight, and all -the shrubs and jagged and tumbled rocks stood out against it in a bristling -disorder of black shapes. Into the great lake of darkness westward, a vast -wreath of mist was sinking. A cold wind set all the crater shivering. Suddenly, -for a moment, I was in a puff of falling snow, and all the world about me grey -and dim. -</p> - -<p> -And then it was I heard, not loud and penetrating as at first, but faint and -dim like a dying voice, that tolling, that same tolling that had welcomed the -coming of the day: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... -</p> - -<p> -It echoed about the crater, it seemed to throb with the throbbing of the -greater stars, the blood-red crescent of the sun’s disc sank as it tolled -out: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... -</p> - -<p> -What had happened to Cavor? All through that tolling I stood there stupidly, -and at last the tolling ceased. -</p> - -<p> -And suddenly the open mouth of the tunnel down below there, shut like an eye -and vanished out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -Then indeed was I alone. -</p> - -<p> -Over me, around me, closing in on me, embracing me ever nearer, was the -Eternal; that which was before the beginning, and that which triumphs over the -end; that enormous void in which all light and life and being is but the thin -and vanishing splendour of a falling star, the cold, the stillness, the -silence—the infinite and final Night of space. -</p> - -<p> -The sense of solitude and desolation became the sense of an overwhelming -presence that stooped towards me, that almost touched me. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I cried. “<i>No!</i> Not yet! not yet! Wait! Wait! Oh, -wait!” My voice went up to a shriek. I flung the crumpled paper from me, -scrambled back to the crest to take my bearings, and then, with all the will -that was in me, leapt out towards the mark I had left, dim and distant now in -the very margin of the shadow. -</p> - -<p> -Leap, leap, leap, and each leap was seven ages. -</p> - -<p> -Before me the pale serpent-girdled section of the sun sank and sank, and the -advancing shadow swept to seize the sphere before I could reach it. I was two -miles away, a hundred leaps or more, and the air about me was thinning out as -it thins under an air-pump, and the cold was gripping at my joints. But had I -died, I should have died leaping. Once, and then again my foot slipped on the -gathering snow as I leapt and shortened my leap; once I fell short into bushes -that crashed and smashed into dusty chips and nothingness, and once I stumbled -as I dropped and rolled head over heels into a gully, and rose bruised and -bleeding and confused as to my direction. -</p> - -<p> -But such incidents were as nothing to the intervals, those awful pauses when -one drifted through the air towards that pouring tide of night. My breathing -made a piping noise, and it was as though knives were whirling in my lungs. My -heart seemed to beat against the top of my brain. “Shall I reach it? O -Heaven! Shall I reach it?” -</p> - -<p> -My whole being became anguish. -</p> - -<p> -“Lie down!” screamed my pain and despair; “lie down!” -</p> - -<p> -The nearer I struggled, the more awfully remote it seemed. I was numb, I -stumbled, I bruised and cut myself and did not bleed. -</p> - -<p> -It was in sight. -</p> - -<p> -I fell on all fours, and my lungs whooped. -</p> - -<p> -I crawled. The frost gathered on my lips, icicles hung from my moustache, I was -white with the freezing atmosphere. -</p> - -<p> -I was a dozen yards from it. My eyes had become dim. “Lie down!” -screamed despair; “lie down!” -</p> - -<p> -I touched it, and halted. “Too late!” screamed despair; “lie -down!” -</p> - -<p> -I fought stiffly with it. I was on the manhole lip, a stupefied, half-dead -being. The snow was all about me. I pulled myself in. There lurked within a -little warmer air. -</p> - -<p> -The snowflakes—the airflakes—danced in about me, as I tried with -chilling hands to thrust the valve in and spun it tight and hard. I sobbed. -“I will,” I chattered in my teeth. And then, with fingers that -quivered and felt brittle, I turned to the shutter studs. -</p> - -<p> -As I fumbled with the switches—for I had never controlled them -before—I could see dimly through the steaming glass the blazing red -streamers of the sinking sun, dancing and flickering through the snowstorm, and -the black forms of the scrub thickening and bending and breaking beneath the -accumulating snow. Thicker whirled the snow and thicker, black against the -light. What if even now the switches overcame me? Then something clicked under -my hands, and in an instant that last vision of the moon world was hidden from -my eyes. I was in the silence and darkness of the inter-planetary sphere. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap20"></a>XX.<br /> -Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space</h2> - -<p> -It was almost as though I had been killed. Indeed, I could imagine a man -suddenly and violently killed would feel very much as I did. One moment, a -passion of agonising existence and fear; the next, darkness and stillness, -neither light nor life nor sun, moon nor stars, the blank infinite. Although -the thing was done by my own act, although I had already tasted this very of -effect in Cavor’s company, I felt astonished, dumbfounded, and -overwhelmed. I seemed to be borne upward into an enormous darkness. My fingers -floated off the studs, I hung as if I were annihilated, and at last very softly -and gently I came against the bale and the golden chain, and the crowbars that -had drifted to the middle of the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -I do not know how long that drifting took. In the sphere of course, even more -than on the moon, one’s earthly time sense was ineffectual. At the touch -of the bale it was as if I had awakened from a dreamless sleep. I immediately -perceived that if I wanted to keep awake and alive I must get a light or open a -window, so as to get a grip of something with my eyes. And besides, I was cold. -I kicked off from the bale, therefore, clawed on to the thin cords within the -glass, crawled along until I got to the manhole rim, and so got my bearings for -the light and blind studs, took a shove off, and flying once round the bale, -and getting a scare from something big and flimsy that was drifting loose, I -got my hand on the cord quite close to the studs, and reached them. I lit the -little lamp first of all to see what it was I had collided with, and discovered -that old copy of <i>Lloyd’s News</i> had slipped its moorings, and was -adrift in the void. That brought me out of the infinite to my own proper -dimensions again. It made me laugh and pant for a time, and suggested the idea -of a little oxygen from one of the cylinders. After that I lit the heater until -I felt warm, and then I took food. Then I set to work in a very gingerly -fashion on the Cavorite blinds, to see if I could guess by any means how the -sphere was travelling. -</p> - -<p> -The first blind I opened I shut at once, and hung for a time flattened and -blinded by the sunlight that had hit me. After thinking a little I started upon -the windows at right angles to this one, and got the huge crescent moon and the -little crescent earth behind it, the second time. I was amazed to find how far -I was from the moon. I had reckoned that not only should I have little or none -of the “kick-off” that the earth’s atmosphere had given us at -our start, but that the tangential “fly off” of the moon’s -spin would be at least twenty-eight times less than the earth’s. I had -expected to discover myself hanging over our crater, and on the edge of the -night, but all that was now only a part of the outline of the white crescent -that filled the sky. And Cavor—? -</p> - -<p> -He was already infinitesimal. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to imagine what could have happened to him. But at that time I could -think of nothing but death. I seemed to see him, bent and smashed at the foot -of some interminably high cascade of blue. And all about him the stupid insects -stared... -</p> - -<p> -Under the inspiring touch of the drifting newspaper I became practical again -for a while. It was quite clear to me that what I had to do was to get back to -earth, but as far as I could see I was drifting away from it. Whatever had -happened to Cavor, even if he was still alive, which seemed to me incredible -after that blood-stained scrap, I was powerless to help him. There he was, -living or dead behind the mantle of that rayless night, and there he must -remain at least until I could summon our fellow men to his assistance. Should I -do that? Something of the sort I had in my mind; to come back to earth if it -were possible, and then as maturer consideration might determine, either to -show and explain the sphere to a few discreet persons, and act with them, or -else to keep my secret, sell my gold, obtain weapons, provisions, and an -assistant, and return with these advantages to deal on equal terms with the -flimsy people of the moon, to rescue Cavor, if that were still possible, and at -any rate to procure a sufficient supply of gold to place my subsequent -proceedings on a firmer basis. But that was hoping far; I had first to get -back. -</p> - -<p> -I set myself to decide just exactly how the return to earth could be contrived. -As I struggled with that problem I ceased to worry about what I should do when -I got there. At last my only care was to get back. -</p> - -<p> -I puzzled out at last that my best chance would be to drop back towards the -moon as near as I dared in order to gather velocity, then to shut my windows, -and fly behind it, and when I was past to open my earthward windows, and so get -off at a good pace homeward. But whether I should ever reach the earth by that -device, or whether I might not simply find myself spinning about it in some -hyperbolic or parabolic curve or other, I could not tell. Later I had a happy -inspiration, and by opening certain windows to the moon, which had appeared in -the sky in front of the earth, I turned my course aside so as to head off the -earth, which it had become evident to me I must pass behind without some such -expedient. I did a very great deal of complicated thinking over these -problems—for I am no mathematician—and in the end I am certain it -was much more my good luck than my reasoning that enabled me to hit the earth. -Had I known then, as I know now, the mathematical chances there were against -me, I doubt if I should have troubled even to touch the studs to make any -attempt. And having puzzled out what I considered to be the thing to do, I -opened all my moonward windows, and squatted down—the effort lifted me -for a time some feet or so into the air, and I hung there in the oddest -way—and waited for the crescent to get bigger and bigger until I felt I -was near enough for safety. Then I would shut the windows, fly past the moon -with the velocity I had got from it—if I did not smash upon it—and -so go on towards the earth. -</p> - -<p> -And that is what I did. -</p> - -<p> -At last I felt my moonward start was sufficient. I shut out the sight of the -moon from my eyes, and in a state of mind that was, I now recall, incredibly -free from anxiety or any distressful quality, I sat down to begin a vigil in -that little speck of matter in infinite space that would last until I should -strike the earth. The heater had made the sphere tolerably warm, the air had -been refreshed by the oxygen, and except for that faint congestion of the head -that was always with me while I was away from earth, I felt entire physical -comfort. I had extinguished the light again, lest it should fail me in the end; -I was in darkness, save for the earthshine and the glitter of the stars below -me. Everything was so absolutely silent and still that I might indeed have been -the only being in the universe, and yet, strangely enough, I had no more -feeling of loneliness or fear than if I had been lying in bed on earth. Now, -this seems all the stranger to me, since during my last hours in that crater of -the moon, the sense of my utter loneliness had been an agony.... -</p> - -<p> -Incredible as it will seem, this interval of time that I spent in space has no -sort of proportion to any other interval of time in my life. Sometimes it -seemed as though I sat through immeasurable eternities like some god upon a -lotus leaf, and again as though there was a momentary pause as I leapt from -moon to earth. In truth, it was altogether some weeks of earthly time. But I -had done with care and anxiety, hunger or fear, for that space. I floated, -thinking with a strange breadth and freedom of all that we had undergone, and -of all my life and motives, and the secret issues of my being. I seemed to -myself to have grown greater and greater, to have lost all sense of movement; -to be floating amidst the stars, and always the sense of earth’s -littleness and the infinite littleness of my life upon it, was implicit in my -thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -I can’t profess to explain the things that happened in my mind. No doubt -they could all be traced directly or indirectly to the curious physical -conditions under which I was living. I set them down here just for what they -are worth, and without any comment. The most prominent quality of it was a -pervading doubt of my own identity. I became, if I may so express it, -dissociate from Bedford; I looked down on Bedford as a trivial, incidental -thing with which I chanced to be connected. I saw Bedford in many -relations—as an ass or as a poor beast, where I had hitherto been -inclined to regard him with a quiet pride as a very spirited or rather forcible -person. I saw him not only as an ass, but as the son of many generations of -asses. I reviewed his school-days and his early manhood, and his first -encounter with love, very much as one might review the proceedings of an ant in -the sand. Something of that period of lucidity I regret still hangs about me, -and I doubt if I shall ever recover the full-bodied self satisfaction of my -early days. But at the time the thing was not in the least painful, because I -had that extraordinary persuasion that, as a matter of fact, I was no more -Bedford than I was any one else, but only a mind floating in the still serenity -of space. Why should I be disturbed about this Bedford’s shortcomings? I -was not responsible for him or them. -</p> - -<p> -For a time I struggled against this really very grotesque delusion. I tried to -summon the memory of vivid moments, of tender or intense emotions to my -assistance; I felt that if I could recall one genuine twinge of feeling the -growing severance would be stopped. But I could not do it. I saw Bedford -rushing down Chancery Lane, hat on the back of his head, coat tails flying out, -<i>en route</i> for his public examination. I saw him dodging and bumping -against, and even saluting, other similar little creatures in that swarming -gutter of people. Me? I saw Bedford that same evening in the sitting-room of a -certain lady, and his hat was on the table beside him, and it wanted brushing -badly, and he was in tears. Me? I saw him with that lady in various attitudes -and emotions—I never felt so detached before.... I saw him hurrying off -to Lympne to write a play, and accosting Cavor, and in his shirt sleeves -working at the sphere, and walking out to Canterbury because he was afraid to -come! Me? I did not believe it. -</p> - -<p> -I still reasoned that all this was hallucination due to my solitude, and the -fact that I had lost all weight and sense of resistance. I endeavoured to -recover that sense by banging myself about the sphere, by pinching my hands and -clasping them together. Among other things, I lit the light, captured that torn -copy of <i>Lloyd’s</i>, and read those convincingly realistic -advertisements about the Cutaway bicycle, and the gentleman of private means, -and the lady in distress who was selling those “forks and spoons.” -There was no doubt they existed surely enough, and, said I, “This is your -world, and you are Bedford, and you are going back to live among things like -that for all the rest of your life.” But the doubts within me could still -argue: “It is not you that is reading, it is Bedford, but you are not -Bedford, you know. That’s just where the mistake comes in.” -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I cried; “and if I am not Bedford, what am -I?” -</p> - -<p> -But in that direction no light was forthcoming, though the strangest fancies -came drifting into my brain, queer remote suspicions, like shadows seen from -away. Do you know, I had a sort of idea that really I was something quite -outside not only the world, but all worlds, and out of space and time, and that -this poor Bedford was just a peephole through which I looked at life? ... -</p> - -<p> -Bedford! However I disavowed him, there I was most certainly bound up with him, -and I knew that wherever or whatever I might be, I must needs feel the stress -of his desires, and sympathise with all his joys and sorrows until his life -should end. And with the dying of Bedford—what then? ... -</p> - -<p> -Enough of this remarkable phase of my experiences! I tell it here simply to -show how one’s isolation and departure from this planet touched not only -the functions and feeling of every organ of the body, but indeed also the very -fabric of the mind, with strange and unanticipated disturbances. All through -the major portion of that vast space journey I hung thinking of such immaterial -things as these, hung dissociated and apathetic, a cloudy megalomaniac, as it -were, amidst the stars and planets in the void of space; and not only the world -to which I was returning, but the blue-lit caverns of the Selenites, their -helmet faces, their gigantic and wonderful machines, and the fate of Cavor, -dragged helpless into that world, seemed infinitely minute and altogether -trivial things to me. -</p> - -<p> -Until at last I began to feel the pull of the earth upon my being, drawing me -back again to the life that is real for men. And then, indeed, it grew clearer -and clearer to me that I was quite certainly Bedford after all, and returning -after amazing adventures to this world of ours, and with a life that I was very -likely to lose in this return. I set myself to puzzle out the conditions under -which I must fall to earth. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap21"></a>XXI.<br /> -Mr. Bedford at Littlestone</h2> - -<p> -My line of flight was about parallel with the surface as I came into the upper -air. The temperature of the sphere began to rise forthwith. I knew it behoved -me to drop at once. Far below me, in a darkling twilight, stretched a great -expanse of sea. I opened every window I could, and fell—out of sunshine -into evening, and out of evening into night. Vaster grew the earth and vaster, -swallowing up the stars, and the silvery translucent starlit veil of cloud it -wore spread out to catch me. At last the world seemed no longer a sphere but -flat, and then concave. It was no longer a planet in the sky, but the world of -Man. I shut all but an inch or so of earthward window, and dropped with a -slackening velocity. The broadening water, now so near that I could see the -dark glitter of the waves, rushed up to meet me. The sphere became very hot. I -snapped the last strip of window, and sat scowling and biting my knuckles, -waiting for the impact.... -</p> - -<p> -The sphere hit the water with a huge splash: it must have sent it fathoms high. -At the splash I flung the Cavorite shutters open. Down I went, but slower and -slower, and then I felt the sphere pressing against my feet, and so drove up -again as a bubble drives. And at the last I was floating and rocking upon the -surface of the sea, and my journey in space was at an end. -</p> - -<p> -The night was dark and overcast. Two yellow pinpoints far away showed the -passing of a ship, and nearer was a red glare that came and went. Had not the -electricity of my glow-lamp exhausted itself, I could have got picked up that -night. In spite of the inordinate fatigue I was beginning to feel, I was -excited now, and for a time hopeful, in a feverish, impatient way, that so my -travelling might end. -</p> - -<p> -But at last I ceased to move about, and sat, wrists on knees, staring at a -distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My excitement -passed. I realised I had yet to spend another night at least in the sphere. I -perceived myself infinitely heavy and fatigued. And so I fell asleep. -</p> - -<p> -A change in my rhythmic motion awakened me. I peered through the refracting -glass, and saw that I had come aground upon a huge shallow of sand. Far away I -seemed to see houses and trees, and seaward a curved, vague distortion of a -ship hung between sea and sky. -</p> - -<p> -I stood up and staggered. My one desire was to emerge. The manhole was upward, -and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly I opened the manhole. At last the air was -singing in again as once it had sung out. But this time I did not wait until -the pressure was adjusted. In another moment I had the weight of the window on -my hands, and I was open, wide open, to the old familiar sky of earth. -</p> - -<p> -The air hit me on the chest so that I gasped. I dropped the glass screw. I -cried out, put my hands to my chest, and sat down. For a time I was in pain. -Then I took deep breaths. At last I could rise and move about again. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to thrust my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled over. It -was as though something had lugged my head down directly it emerged. I ducked -back sharply, or I should have been pinned face under water. After some -wriggling and shoving I managed to crawl out upon sand, over which the -retreating waves still came and went. -</p> - -<p> -I did not attempt to stand up. It seemed to me that my body must be suddenly -changed to lead. Mother Earth had her grip on me now—no Cavorite -intervening. I sat down heedless of the water that came over my feet. -</p> - -<p> -It was dawn, a grey dawn, rather overcast but showing here and there a long -patch of greenish grey. Some way out a ship was lying at anchor, a pale -silhouette of a ship with one yellow light. The water came rippling in in long -shallow waves. Away to the right curved the land, a shingle bank with little -hovels, and at last a lighthouse, a sailing mark and a point. Inland stretched -a space of level sand, broken here and there by pools of water, and ending a -mile away perhaps in a low shore of scrub. To the north-east some isolated -watering-place was visible, a row of gaunt lodging-houses, the tallest things -that I could see on earth, dull dabs against the brightening sky. What strange -men can have reared these vertical piles in such an amplitude of space I do not -know. There they are, like pieces of Brighton lost in the waste. -</p> - -<p> -For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. At last I struggled -to rise. It made me feel that I was lifting a weight. I stood up. -</p> - -<p> -I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since our starvation in the -crater I thought of earthly food. “Bacon,” I whispered, -“eggs. Good toast and good coffee.... And how the devil am I going to get -all this stuff to Lympne?” I wondered where I was. It was an east shore -anyhow, and I had seen Europe before I dropped. -</p> - -<p> -I heard footsteps crunching in the sand, and a little round-faced, -friendly-looking man in flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped about his -shoulders, and his bathing dress over his arm, appeared up the beach. I knew -instantly that I must be in England. He was staring most intently at the sphere -and me. He advanced staring. I dare say I looked a ferocious savage -enough—dirty, unkempt, to an indescribable degree; but it did not occur -to me at the time. He stopped at a distance of twenty yards. “Hul-lo, my -man!” he said doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -“Hullo yourself!” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He advanced, reassured by that. “What on earth is that thing?” he -asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Can you tell me where I am?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s Littlestone,” he said, pointing to the houses; -“and that’s Dungeness! Have you just landed? What’s that -thing you’ve got? Some sort of machine?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Have you floated ashore? Have you been wrecked or something? What is -it?” -</p> - -<p> -I meditated swiftly. I made an estimate of the little man’s appearance as -he drew nearer. “By Jove!” he said, “you’ve had a time -of it! I thought you— Well— Where were you cast away? Is that thing -a sort of floating thing for saving life?” -</p> - -<p> -I decided to take that line for the present. I made a few vague affirmatives. -“I want help,” I said hoarsely. “I want to get some stuff up -the beach—stuff I can’t very well leave about.” I became -aware of three other pleasant-looking young men with towels, blazers, and straw -hats, coming down the sands towards me. Evidently the early bathing section of -this Littlestone. -</p> - -<p> -“Help!” said the young man: “rather!” He became vaguely -active. “What particularly do you want done?” He turned round and -gesticulated. The three young men accelerated their pace. In a minute they -were about me, plying me with questions I was indisposed to answer. -“I’ll tell all that later,” I said. “I’m dead -beat. I’m a rag.” -</p> - -<p> -“Come up to the hotel,” said the foremost little man. -“We’ll look after that thing there.” -</p> - -<p> -I hesitated. “I can’t,” I said. “In that sphere -there’s two big bars of gold.” -</p> - -<p> -They looked incredulously at one another, then at me with a new inquiry. I went -to the sphere, stooped, crept in, and presently they had the Selenites’ -crowbars and the broken chain before them. If I had not been so horribly fagged -I could have laughed at them. It was like kittens round a beetle. They -didn’t know what to do with the stuff. The fat little man stooped and -lifted the end of one of the bars, and then dropped it with a grunt. Then they -all did. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s lead, or gold!” said one. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, it’s <i>gold!</i>” said another. -</p> - -<p> -“Gold, right enough,” said the third. -</p> - -<p> -Then they all stared at me, and then they all stared at the ship lying at -anchor. -</p> - -<p> -“I say!” cried the little man. “But where did you get -that?” -</p> - -<p> -I was too tired to keep up a lie. “I got it in the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -I saw them stare at one another. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here!” said I, “I’m not going to argue now. Help -me carry these lumps of gold up to the hotel—I guess, with rests, two of -you can manage one, and I’ll trail this chain thing—and I’ll -tell you more when I’ve had some food.” -</p> - -<p> -“And how about that thing?” -</p> - -<p> -“It won’t hurt there,” I said. “Anyhow—confound -it!—it must stop there now. If the tide comes up, it will float all -right.” -</p> - -<p> -And in a state of enormous wonderment, these young men most obediently hoisted -my treasures on their shoulders, and with limbs that felt like lead I headed a -sort of procession towards that distant fragment of “sea-front.” -Half-way there we were reinforced by two awe-stricken little girls with spades, -and later a lean little boy, with a penetrating sniff, appeared. He was, I -remember, wheeling a bicycle, and he accompanied us at a distance of about a -hundred yards on our right flank, and then I suppose, gave us up as -uninteresting, mounted his bicycle and rode off over the level sands in the -direction of the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -I glanced back after him. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>He</i> won’t touch it,” said the stout young man -reassuringly, and I was only too willing to be reassured. -</p> - -<p> -At first something of the grey of the morning was in my mind, but presently the -sun disengaged itself from the level clouds of the horizon and lit the world, -and turned the leaden sea to glittering waters. My spirits rose. A sense of the -vast importance of the things I had done and had yet to do came with the -sunlight into my mind. I laughed aloud as the foremost man staggered under my -gold. When indeed I took my place in the world, how amazed the world would be! -</p> - -<p> -If it had not been for my inordinate fatigue, the landlord of the Littlestone -hotel would have been amusing, as he hesitated between my gold and my -respectable company on the one and my filthy appearance on the other. But at -last I found myself in a terrestrial bathroom once more with warm water to wash -myself with, and a change of raiment, preposterously small indeed, but anyhow -clean, that the genial little man had lent me. He lent me a razor too, but I -could not screw up my resolution to attack even the outposts of the bristling -beard that covered my face. -</p> - -<p> -I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a sort of languid -appetite—an appetite many weeks old and very decrepit—and stirred -myself to answer the questions of the four young men. And I told them the -truth. -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” said I, “as you press me—I got it in the -moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“The moon?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, the moon in the sky.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“What I say, confound it!” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you have just come from the moon?” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly! through space—in that ball.” And I took a delicious -mouthful of egg. I made a private note that when I went back to the moon I -would take a box of eggs. -</p> - -<p> -I could see clearly that they did not believe one word of what I told them, but -evidently they considered me the most respectable liar they had ever met. They -glanced at one another, and then concentrated the fire of their eyes on me. I -fancy they expected a clue to me in the way I helped myself to salt. They -seemed to find something significant in my peppering my egg. These strangely -shaped masses of gold they had staggered under held their minds. There the -lumps lay in front of me, each worth thousands of pounds, and as impossible for -any one to steal as a house or a piece of land. As I looked at their curious -faces over my coffee-cup, I realised something of the enormous wilderness of -explanations into which I should have to wander to render myself comprehensible -again. -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t <i>really</i> mean—” began the youngest -young man, in the tone of one who speaks to an obstinate child. -</p> - -<p> -“Just pass me that toast-rack,” I said, and shut him up completely. -</p> - -<p> -“But look here, I say,” began one of the others. “We’re -not going to believe that, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well,” said I, and shrugged my shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“He doesn’t want to tell us,” said the youngest young man in -a stage aside; and then, with an appearance of great <i>sang-froid</i>, -“You don’t mind if I take a cigarette?” -</p> - -<p> -I waved him a cordial assent, and proceeded with my breakfast. Two of the -others went and looked out of the farther window and talked inaudibly. I was -struck by a thought. “The tide,” I said, “is running -out?” -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause, a doubt who should answer me. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s near the ebb,” said the fat little man. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, anyhow,” I said, “it won’t float far.” -</p> - -<p> -I decapitated my third egg, and began a little speech. “Look here,” -I said. “Please don’t imagine I’m surly or telling you -uncivil lies, or anything of that sort. I’m forced almost, to be a little -short and mysterious. I can quite understand this is as queer as it can be, and -that your imaginations must be going it. I can assure you, you’re in at a -memorable time. But I can’t make it clear to you now—it’s -impossible. I give you my word of honour I’ve come from the moon, and -that’s all I can tell you.... All the same, I’m tremendously -obliged to you, you know, tremendously. I hope that my manner hasn’t in -any way given you offence.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, not in the least!” said the youngest young man affably. -“We can quite understand,” and staring hard at me all the time, he -heeled his chair back until it very nearly upset, and recovered with some -exertion. “Not a bit of it,” said the fat young man. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you imagine <i>that!</i>” and they all got up and -dispersed, and walked about and lit cigarettes, and generally tried to show -they were perfectly amiable and disengaged, and entirely free from the -slightest curiosity about me and the sphere. “I’m going to keep an -eye on that ship out there all the same,” I heard one of them remarking -in an undertone. If only they could have forced themselves to it, they would, I -believe, even have gone out and left me. I went on with my third egg. -</p> - -<p> -“The weather,” the fat little man remarked presently, “has -been immense, has it not? I don’t know <i>when</i> we have had such a -summer.” -</p> - -<p> -Phoo-whizz! Like a tremendous rocket! -</p> - -<p> -And somewhere a window was broken.... -</p> - -<p> -“What’s that?” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t—?” cried the little man, and rushed to the -corner window. -</p> - -<p> -All the others rushed to the window likewise. I sat staring at them. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly I leapt up, knocked over my third egg, rushed for the window also. I -had just thought of something. “Nothing to be seen there,” cried -the little man, rushing for the door. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s that boy!” I cried, bawling in hoarse fury; -“it’s that accursed boy!” and turning about I pushed the -waiter aside—he was just bringing me some more toast—and rushed -violently out of the room and down and out upon the queer little esplanade in -front of the hotel. -</p> - -<p> -The sea, which had been smooth, was rough now with hurrying cat’s-paws, -and all about where the sphere had been was tumbled water like the wake of a -ship. Above, a little puff of cloud whirled like dispersing smoke, and the -three or four people on the beach were staring up with interrogative faces -towards the point of that unexpected report. And that was all! Boots and waiter -and the four young men in blazers came rushing out behind me. Shouts came from -windows and doors, and all sorts of worrying people came into -sight—agape. -</p> - -<p> -For a time I stood there, too overwhelmed by this new development to think of -the people. -</p> - -<p> -At first I was too stunned to see the thing as any definite disaster—I -was just stunned, as a man is by some accidental violent blow. It is only -afterwards he begins to appreciate his specific injury. -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord!” -</p> - -<p> -I felt as though somebody was pouring funk out of a can down the back of my -neck. My legs became feeble. I had got the first intimation of what the -disaster meant for me. There was that confounded boy—sky high! I was -utterly left. There was the gold in the coffee-room—my only possession on -earth. How would it all work out? The general effect was of a gigantic -unmanageable confusion. -</p> - -<p> -“I say,” said the voice of the little man behind. “I -<i>say</i>, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -I wheeled about, and there were twenty or thirty people, a sort of irregular -investment of people, all bombarding me with dumb interrogation, with infinite -doubt and suspicion. I felt the compulsion of their eyes intolerably. I groaned -aloud. -</p> - -<p> -“I <i>can’t</i>,” I shouted. “I tell you I can’t! -I’m not equal to it! You must puzzle and—and be damned to -you!” -</p> - -<p> -I gesticulated convulsively. He receded a step as though I had threatened him. -I made a bolt through them into the hotel. I charged back into the coffee-room, -rang the bell furiously. I gripped the waiter as he entered. “D’ye -hear?” I shouted. “Get help and carry these bars up to my room -right away.” -</p> - -<p> -He failed to understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A scared-looking -little old man in a green apron appeared, and further two of the young men in -flannels. I made a dash at them and commandeered their services. As soon as the -gold was in my room I felt free to quarrel. “Now get out,” I -shouted; “all of you get out if you don’t want to see a man go mad -before your eyes!” And I helped the waiter by the shoulder as he -hesitated in the doorway. And then, as soon as I had the door locked on them -all, I tore off the little man’s clothes again, shied them right and -left, and got into bed forthwith. And there I lay swearing and panting and -cooling for a very long time. -</p> - -<p> -At last I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring up the round-eyed waiter -for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good cigars. And these -things being procured me, after an exasperating delay that drove me several -times to the bell, I locked the door again and proceeded very deliberately to -look the entire situation in the face. -</p> - -<p> -The net result of the great experiment presented itself as an absolute failure. -It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was an absolute collapse, and -this was the final disaster. There was nothing for it but to save myself, and -as much as I could in the way of prospects from our <i>débâcle</i>. At one -fatal crowning blow all my vague resolutions of return and recovery had -vanished. My intention of going back to the moon, of getting a sphereful of -gold, and afterwards of having a fragment of Cavorite analysed and so -recovering the great secret—perhaps, finally, even of recovering -Cavor’s body—all these ideas vanished altogether. -</p> - -<p> -I was the sole survivor, and that was all. -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -I think that going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had in an -emergency. I really believe I should either have got loose-headed or done some -indiscreet thing. But there, locked in and secure from all interruptions, I -could think out the position in all its bearings and make my arrangements at -leisure. -</p> - -<p> -Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He had -crawled into the sphere, meddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite windows, and -gone up. It was highly improbable he had screwed the manhole stopper, and, even -if he had, the chances were a thousand to one against his getting back. It was -fairly evident that he would gravitate with my bales to somewhere near the -middle of the sphere and remain there, and so cease to be a legitimate -terrestrial interest, however remarkable he might seem to the inhabitants of -some remote quarter of space. I very speedily convinced myself on that point. -And as for any responsibility I might have in the matter, the more I reflected -upon that, the clearer it became that if only I kept quiet about things, I need -not trouble myself about that. If I was faced by sorrowing parents demanding -their lost boy, I had merely to demand my lost sphere—or ask them what -they meant. At first I had had a vision of weeping parents and guardians, and -all sorts of complications; but now I saw that I simply had to keep my mouth -shut, and nothing in that way could arise. And, indeed, the more I lay and -smoked and thought, the more evident became the wisdom of impenetrability. -</p> - -<p> -It is within the right of every British citizen, provided he does not commit -damage nor indecorum, to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, and as ragged and -filthy as he pleases, and with whatever amount of virgin gold he sees fit to -encumber himself, and no one has any right at all to hinder and detain him in -this procedure. I formulated that at last to myself, and repeated it over as a -sort of private Magna Charta of my liberty. -</p> - -<p> -Once I had put that issue on one side, I could take up and consider in an -equable manner certain considerations I had scarcely dared to think of before, -namely, those arising out of the circumstances of my bankruptcy. But now, -looking at this matter calmly and at leisure, I could see that if only I -suppressed my identity by a temporary assumption of some less well-known name, -and if I retained the two months’ beard that had grown upon me, the risks -of any annoyance from the spiteful creditor to whom I have already alluded -became very small indeed. From that to a definite course of rational worldly -action was plain sailing. It was all amazingly petty, no doubt, but what was -there remaining for me to do? -</p> - -<p> -Whatever I did I was resolved that I would keep myself level and right side up. -</p> - -<p> -I ordered up writing materials, and addressed a letter to the New Romney -Bank—the nearest, the waiter informed me—telling the manager I -wished to open an account with him, and requesting him to send two trustworthy -persons properly authenticated in a cab with a good horse to fetch some -hundredweight of gold with which I happened to be encumbered. I signed the -letter “Blake,” which seemed to me to be a thoroughly respectable -sort of name. This done, I got a Folkstone Blue Book, picked out an outfitter, -and asked him to send a cutter to measure me for a dark tweed suit, ordering at -the same time a valise, dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, hat (to fit), and so -forth; and from a watchmaker I also ordered a watch. And these letters being -despatched, I had up as good a lunch as the hotel could give, and then lay -smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as possible, until in accordance with my -instructions two duly authenticated clerks came from the bank and weighed and -took away my gold. After which I pulled the clothes over my ears in order to -drown any knocking, and went very comfortably to sleep. -</p> - -<p> -I went to sleep. No doubt it was a prosaic thing for the first man back from -the moon to do, and I can imagine that the young and imaginative reader will -find my behaviour disappointing. But I was horribly fatigued and bothered, and, -confound it! what else was there to do? There certainly was not the remotest -chance of my being believed, if I had told my story then, and it would -certainly have subjected me to intolerable annoyances. I went to sleep. When at -last I woke up again I was ready to face the world as I have always been -accustomed to face it since I came to years of discretion. And so I got away to -Italy, and there it is I am writing this story. If the world will not have it -as fact, then the world may take it as fiction. It is no concern of mine. -</p> - -<p> -And now that the account is finished, I am amazed to think how completely this -adventure is gone and done with. Everybody believes that Cavor was a not very -brilliant scientific experimenter who blew up his house and himself at Lympne, -and they explain the bang that followed my arrival at Littlestone by a -reference to the experiments with explosives that are going on continually at -the government establishment of Lydd, two miles away. I must confess that -hitherto I have not acknowledged my share in the disappearance of Master Tommy -Simmons, which was that little boy’s name. That, perhaps, may prove a -difficult item of corroboration to explain away. They account for my appearance -in rags with two bars of indisputable gold upon the Littlestone beach in -various ingenious ways—it doesn’t worry me what they think of me. -They say I have strung all these things together to avoid being questioned too -closely as to the source of my wealth. I would like to see the man who could -invent a story that would hold together like this one. Well, they must take it -as fiction—there it is. -</p> - -<p> -I have told my story—and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries of -this terrestrial life again. Even if one has been to the moon, one has still to -earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi, on the scenario of that play I -sketched before Cavor came walking into my world, and I am trying to piece my -life together as it was before ever I saw him. I must confess that I find it -hard to keep my mind on the play when the moonshine comes into my room. It is -full moon here, and last night I was out on the pergola for hours, staring away -at the shining blankness that hides so much. Imagine it! tables and chairs, and -trestles and bars of gold! Confound it!—if only one could hit on that -Cavorite again! But a thing like that doesn’t come twice in a life. Here -I am, a little better off than I was at Lympne, and that is all. And Cavor has -committed suicide in a more elaborate way than any human being ever did before. -So the story closes as finally and completely as a dream. It fits in so little -with all the other things of life, so much of it is so utterly remote from all -human experience, the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and these weightless -times, that indeed there are moments when, in spite of my moon gold, I do more -than half believe myself that the whole thing was a dream.... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap22"></a>XXII.<br /> -The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee</h2> - -<p> -When I had finished my account of my return to the earth at Littlestone, I -wrote, “The End,” made a flourish, and threw my pen aside, fully -believing that the whole story of the First Men in the Moon was done. Not only -had I done this, but I had placed my manuscript in the hands of a literary -agent, had permitted it to be sold, had seen the greater portion of it appear -in the <i>Strand Magazine</i>, and was setting to work again upon the scenario -of the play I had commenced at Lympne before I realised that the end was not -yet. And then, following me from Amalfi to Algiers, there reached me (it is now -about six months ago) one of the most astounding communications I have ever -been fated to receive. Briefly, it informed me that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a -Dutch electrician, who has been experimenting with certain apparatus akin to -the apparatus used by Mr. Tesla in America, in the hope of discovering some -method of communication with Mars, was receiving day by day a curiously -fragmentary message in English, which was indisputably emanating from Mr. Cavor -in the moon. -</p> - -<p> -At first I thought the thing was an elaborate practical joke by some one who -had seen the manuscript of my narrative. I answered Mr. Wendigee jestingly, but -he replied in a manner that put such suspicion altogether aside, and in a state -of inconceivable excitement I hurried from Algiers to the little observatory -upon the Monte Rosa in which he was working. In the presence of his record and -his appliances—and above all of the messages from Cavor that were coming -to hand—my lingering doubts vanished. I decided at once to accept a -proposal he made to me to remain with him, assisting him to take down the -record from day to day, and endeavouring with him to send a message back to the -moon. Cavor, we learnt, was not only alive, but free, in the midst of an almost -inconceivable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, in the blue -darkness of the lunar caves. He was lamed, it seemed, but otherwise in quite -good health—in better health, he distinctly said, than he usually enjoyed -on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left no bad effects. But curiously -enough he seemed to be labouring under a conviction that I was either dead in -the moon crater or lost in the deep of space. -</p> - -<p> -His message began to be received by Mr. Wendigee when that gentleman was -engaged in quite a different investigation. The reader will no doubt recall the -little excitement that began the century, arising out of an announcement by Mr. -Nikola Tesla, the American electrical celebrity, that he had received a message -from Mars. His announcement renewed attention to a fact that had long been -familiar to scientific people, namely: that from some unknown source in space, -waves of electromagnetic disturbance, entirely similar to those used by Signor -Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, are constantly reaching the earth. Besides -Tesla quite a number of other observers have been engaged in perfecting -apparatus for receiving and recording these vibrations, though few would go so -far as to consider them actual messages from some extraterrestrial sender. -Among that few, however, we must certainly count Mr. Wendigee. Ever since 1898 -he had devoted himself almost entirely to this subject, and being a man of -ample means he had erected an observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in a -position singularly adapted in every way for such observations. -</p> - -<p> -My scientific attainments, I must admit, are not great, but so far as they -enable me to judge, Mr. Wendigee’s contrivances for detecting and -recording any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space are -singularly original and ingenious. And by a happy combination of circumstances -they were set up and in operation about two months before Cavor made his first -attempt to call up the earth. Consequently we have fragments of his -communication even from the beginning. Unhappily, they are only fragments, and -the most momentous of all the things that he had to tell humanity—the -instructions, that is, for the making of Cavorite, if, indeed, he ever -transmitted them—have throbbed themselves away unrecorded into space. We -never succeeded in getting a response back to Cavor. He was unable to tell, -therefore, what we had received or what we had missed; nor, indeed, did he -certainly know that any one on earth was really aware of his efforts to reach -us. And the persistence he displayed in sending eighteen long descriptions of -lunar affairs—as they would be if we had them complete—shows how -much his mind must have turned back towards his native planet since he left it -two years ago. -</p> - -<p> -You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been when he discovered his -record of electromagnetic disturbances interlaced by Cavor’s -straightforward English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild journey -moonward, and suddenly—this English out of the void! -</p> - -<p> -It is well the reader should understand the conditions under which it would -seem these messages were sent. Somewhere within the moon Cavor certainly had -access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical apparatus, and it -would seem he rigged up—perhaps furtively—a transmitting -arrangement of the Marconi type. This he was able to operate at irregular -intervals: sometimes for only half an hour or so, sometimes for three or four -hours at a stretch. At these times he transmitted his earthward message, -regardless of the fact that the relative position of the moon and points upon -the earth’s surface is constantly altering. As a consequence of this and -of the necessary imperfections of our recording instruments his communication -comes and goes in our records in an extremely fitful manner; it becomes -blurred; it “fades out” in a mysterious and altogether exasperating -way. And added to this is the fact that he was not an expert operator; he had -partly forgotten, or never completely mastered, the code in general use, and as -he became fatigued he dropped words and misspelt in a curious manner. -</p> - -<p> -Altogether we have probably lost quite half of the communications he made, and -much we have is damaged, broken, and partly effaced. In the abstract that -follows the reader must be prepared therefore for a considerable amount of -break, hiatus, and change of topic. Mr. Wendigee and I are collaborating in a -complete and annotated edition of the Cavor record, which we hope to publish, -together with a detailed account of the instruments employed, beginning with -the first volume in January next. That will be the full and scientific report, -of which this is only the popular transcript. But here we give at least -sufficient to complete the story I have told, and to give the broad outlines of -the state of that other world so near, so akin, and yet so dissimilar to our -own. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap23"></a>XXIII.<br /> -An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor</h2> - -<p> -The two earlier messages of Mr. Cavor may very well be reserved for that larger -volume. They simply tell, with greater brevity and with a difference in several -details that is interesting, but not of any vital importance, the bare facts of -the making of the sphere and our departure from the world. Throughout, Cavor -speaks of me as a man who is dead, but with a curious change of temper as he -approaches our landing on the moon. “Poor Bedford,” he says of me, -and “this poor young man,” and he blames himself for inducing a -young man, “by no means well equipped for such adventures,” to -leave a planet “on which he was indisputably fitted to succeed” on -so precarious a mission. I think he underrates the part my energy and practical -capacity played in bringing about the realisation of his theoretical sphere. -“We arrived,” he says, with no more account of our passage through -space than if we had made a journey of common occurrence in a railway train. -</p> - -<p> -And then he becomes increasingly unfair to me. Unfair, indeed, to an extent I -should not have expected in a man trained in the search for truth. Looking back -over my previously written account of these things, I must insist that I have -been altogether juster to Cavor than he has been to me. I have extenuated -little and suppressed nothing. But his account is:— -</p> - -<p> -“It speedily became apparent that the entire strangeness of our -circumstances and surroundings—great loss of weight, attenuated but -highly oxygenated air, consequent exaggeration of the results of muscular -effort, rapid development of weird plants from obscure spores, lurid -sky—was exciting my companion unduly. On the moon his character seemed to -deteriorate. He became impulsive, rash, and quarrelsome. In a little while his -folly in devouring some gigantic vesicles and his consequent intoxication led -to our capture by the Selenites—before we had had the slightest -opportunity of properly observing their ways....” -</p> - -<p> -(He says, you observe, nothing of his own concession to these same -“vesicles.”) -</p> - -<p> -And he goes on from that point to say that “We came to a difficult -passage with them, and Bedford mistaking certain gestures of -theirs”—pretty gestures they were!—“gave way to a panic -violence. He ran amuck, killed three, and perforce I had to flee with him after -the outrage. Subsequently we fought with a number who endeavoured to bar our -way, and slew seven or eight more. It says much for the tolerance of these -beings that on my recapture I was not instantly slain. We made our way to the -exterior and separated in the crater of our arrival, to increase our chances of -recovering our sphere. But presently I came upon a body of Selenites, led by -two who were curiously different, even in form, from any of these we had seen -hitherto, with larger heads and smaller bodies, and much more elaborately -wrapped about. And after evading them for some time I fell into a crevasse, cut -my head rather badly, and displaced my patella, and, finding crawling very -painful, decided to surrender—if they would still permit me to do so. -This they did, and, perceiving my helpless condition, carried me with them -again into the moon. And of Bedford I have heard or seen nothing more, nor, so -far as I can gather, has any Selenite. Either the night overtook him in the -crater, or else, which is more probable, he found the sphere, and, desiring to -steal a march upon me, made off with it—only, I fear, to find it -uncontrollable, and to meet a more lingering fate in outer space.” -</p> - -<p> -And with that Cavor dismisses me and goes on to more interesting topics. I -dislike the idea of seeming to use my position as his editor to deflect his -story in my own interest, but I am obliged to protest here against the turn he -gives these occurrences. He said nothing about that gasping message on the -blood-stained paper in which he told, or attempted to tell, a very different -story. The dignified self-surrender is an altogether new view of the affair -that has come to him, I must insist, since he began to feel secure among the -lunar people; and as for the “stealing a march” conception, I am -quite willing to let the reader decide between us on what he has before him. I -know I am not a model man—I have made no pretence to be. But am I -<i>that?</i> -</p> - -<p> -However, that is the sum of my wrongs. From this point I can edit Cavor with an -untroubled mind, for he mentions me no more. -</p> - -<p> -It would seem the Selenites who had come upon him carried him to some point in -the interior down “a great shaft” by means of what he describes as -“a sort of balloon.” We gather from the rather confused passage in -which he describes this, and from a number of chance allusions and hints in -other and subsequent messages, that this “great shaft” is one of an -enormous system of artificial shafts that run, each from what is called a lunar -“crater,” downwards for very nearly a hundred miles towards the -central portion of our satellite. These shafts communicate by transverse -tunnels, they throw out abysmal caverns and expand into great globular places; -the whole of the moon’s substance for a hundred miles inward, indeed, is -a mere sponge of rock. “Partly,” says Cavor, “this sponginess -is natural, but very largely it is due to the enormous industry of the -Selenites in the past. The enormous circular mounds of the excavated rock and -earth it is that form these great circles about the tunnels known to earthly -astronomers (misled by a false analogy) as volcanoes.” -</p> - -<p> -It was down this shaft they took him, in this “sort of balloon” he -speaks of, at first into an inky blackness and then into a region of -continually increasing phosphorescence. Cavor’s despatches show him to be -curiously regardless of detail for a scientific man, but we gather that this -light was due to the streams and cascades of water—“no doubt -containing some phosphorescent organism”—that flowed ever more -abundantly downward towards the Central Sea. And as he descended, he says, -“The Selenites also became luminous.” And at last far below him he -saw, as it were, a lake of heatless fire, the waters of the Central Sea, -glowing and eddying in strange perturbation, “like luminous blue milk -that is just on the boil.” -</p> - -<p> -“This Lunar Sea,” says Cavor, in a later passage, “is not a -stagnant ocean; a solar tide sends it in a perpetual flow around the lunar -axis, and strange storms and boilings and rushings of its waters occur, and at -times cold winds and thunderings that ascend out of it into the busy ways of -the great ant-hill above. It is only when the water is in motion that it gives -out light; in its rare seasons of calm it is black. Commonly, when one sees it, -its waters rise and fall in an oily swell, and flakes and big rafts of shining, -bubbly foam drift with the sluggish, faintly glowing current. The Selenites -navigate its cavernous straits and lagoons in little shallow boats of a -canoe-like shape; and even before my journey to the galleries about the Grand -Lunar, who is Master of the Moon, I was permitted to make a brief excursion on -its waters. -</p> - -<p> -“The caverns and passages are naturally very tortuous. A large proportion -of these ways are known only to expert pilots among the fishermen, and not -infrequently Selenites are lost for ever in their labyrinths. In their remoter -recesses, I am told, strange creatures lurk, some of them terrible and -dangerous creatures that all the science of the moon has been unable to -exterminate. There is particularly the Rapha, an inextricable mass of clutching -tentacles that one hacks to pieces only to multiply; and the Tzee, a darting -creature that is never seen, so subtly and suddenly does it slay...” -</p> - -<p> -He gives us a gleam of description. -</p> - -<p> -“I was reminded on this excursion of what I have read of the Mammoth -Caves; if only I had had a yellow flambeau instead of the pervading blue light, -and a solid-looking boatman with an oar instead of a scuttle-faced Selenite -working an engine at the back of the canoe, I could have imagined I had -suddenly got back to earth. The rocks about us were very various, sometimes -black, sometimes pale blue and veined, and once they flashed and glittered as -though we had come into a mine of sapphires. And below one saw the ghostly -phosphorescent fishes flash and vanish in the hardly less phosphorescent deep. -Then, presently, a long ultra-marine vista down the turgid stream of one of the -channels of traffic, and a landing stage, and then, perhaps, a glimpse up the -enormous crowded shaft of one of the vertical ways. -</p> - -<p> -“In one great place heavy with glistening stalactites a number of boats -were fishing. We went alongside one of these and watched the long-armed -Selenites winding in a net. They were little, hunchbacked insects, with very -strong arms, short, bandy legs, and crinkled face-masks. As they pulled at it -that net seemed the heaviest thing I had come upon in the moon; it was loaded -with weights—no doubt of gold—and it took a long time to draw, for -in those waters the larger and more edible fish lurk deep. The fish in the net -came up like a blue moonrise—a blaze of darting, tossing blue. -</p> - -<p> -“Among their catch was a many-tentaculate, evil-eyed black thing, -ferociously active, whose appearance they greeted with shrieks and twitters, -and which with quick, nervous movements they hacked to pieces by means of -little hatchets. All its dissevered limbs continued to lash and writhe in a -vicious manner. Afterwards, when fever had hold of me, I dreamt again and again -of that bitter, furious creature rising so vigorous and active out of the -unknown sea. It was the most active and malignant thing of all the living -creatures I have yet seen in this world inside the moon.... -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -“The surface of this sea must be very nearly two hundred miles (if not -more) below the level of the moon’s exterior; all the cities of the moon -lie, I learnt, immediately above this Central Sea, in such cavernous spaces and -artificial galleries as I have described, and they communicate with the -exterior by enormous vertical shafts which open invariably in what are called -by earthly astronomers the ‘craters’ of the moon. The lid covering -one such aperture I had already seen during the wanderings that had preceded my -capture. -</p> - -<p> -“Upon the condition of the less central portion of the moon I have not -yet arrived at very precise knowledge. There is an enormous system of caverns -in which the mooncalves shelter during the night; and there are abattoirs and -the like—in one of these it was that I and Bedford fought with the -Selenite butchers—and I have since seen balloons laden with meat -descending out of the upper dark. I have as yet scarcely learnt as much of -these things as a Zulu in London would learn about the British corn supplies in -the same time. It is clear, however, that these vertical shafts and the -vegetation of the surface must play an essential role in ventilating and -keeping fresh the atmosphere of the moon. At one time, and particularly on my -first emergence from my prison, there was certainly a cold wind blowing -<i>down</i> the shaft, and later there was a kind of sirocco upward that -corresponded with my fever. For at the end of about three weeks I fell ill of -an indefinable sort of fever, and in spite of sleep and the quinine tabloids -that very fortunately I had brought in my pocket, I remained ill and fretting -miserably, almost to the time when I was taken into the presence of the Grand -Lunar, who is Master of the Moon. -</p> - -<p> -“I will not dilate on the wretchedness of my condition,” he -remarks, “during those days of ill-health.” And he goes on with -great amplitude with details I omit here. “My temperature,” he -concludes, “kept abnormally high for a long time, and I lost all desire -for food. I had stagnant waking intervals, and sleep tormented by dreams, and -at one phase I was, I remember, so weak as to be earth-sick and almost -hysterical. I longed almost intolerably for colour to break the everlasting -blue...” -</p> - -<p> -He reverts again presently to the topic of this sponge-caught lunar atmosphere. -I am told by astronomers and physicists that all he tells is in absolute -accordance with what was already known of the moon’s condition. Had -earthly astronomers had the courage and imagination to push home a bold -induction, says Mr. Wendigee, they might have foretold almost everything that -Cavor has to say of the general structure of the moon. They know now pretty -certainly that moon and earth are not so much satellite and primary as smaller -and greater sisters, made out of one mass, and consequently made of the same -material. And since the density of the moon is only three-fifths that of the -earth, there can be nothing for it but that she is hollowed out by a great -system of caverns. There was no necessity, said Sir Jabez Flap, F.R.S., that -most entertaining exponent of the facetious side of the stars, that we should -ever have gone to the moon to find out such easy inferences, and points the pun -with an allusion to Gruyère, but he certainly might have announced his -knowledge of the hollowness of the moon before. And if the moon is hollow, then -the apparent absence of air and water is, of course, quite easily explained. -The sea lies within at the bottom of the caverns, and the air travels through -the great sponge of galleries, in accordance with simple physical laws. The -caverns of the moon, on the whole, are very windy places. As the sunlight comes -round the moon the air in the outer galleries on that side is heated, its -pressure increases, some flows out on the exterior and mingles with the -evaporating air of the craters (where the plants remove its carbonic acid), -while the greater portion flows round through the galleries to replace the -shrinking air of the cooling side that the sunlight has left. There is, -therefore, a constant eastward breeze in the air of the outer galleries, and an -upflow during the lunar day up the shafts, complicated, of course, very greatly -by the varying shape of the galleries, and the ingenious contrivances of the -Selenite mind.... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap24"></a>XXIV.<br /> -The Natural History of the Selenites</h2> - -<p> -The messages of Cavor from the sixth up to the sixteenth are for the most part -so much broken, and they abound so in repetitions, that they scarcely form a -consecutive narrative. They will be given in full, of course, in the scientific -report, but here it will be far more convenient to continue simply to abstract -and quote as in the former chapter. We have subjected every word to a keen -critical scrutiny, and my own brief memories and impressions of lunar things -have been of inestimable help in interpreting what would otherwise have been -impenetrably dark. And, naturally, as living beings, our interest centres far -more upon the strange community of lunar insects in which he was living, it -would seem, as an honoured guest than upon the mere physical condition of their -world. -</p> - -<p> -I have already made it clear, I think, that the Selenites I saw resembled man -in maintaining the erect attitude, and in having four limbs, and I have -compared the general appearance of their heads and the jointing of their limbs -to that of insects. I have mentioned, too, the peculiar consequence of the -smaller gravitation of the moon on their fragile slightness. Cavor confirms me -upon all these points. He calls them “animals,” though of course -they fall under no division of the classification of earthly creatures, and he -points out “the insect type of anatomy had, fortunately for men, never -exceeded a relatively very small size on earth.” The largest terrestrial -insects, living or extinct, do not, as a matter of fact, measure six inches in -length; “but here, against the lesser gravitation of the moon, a creature -certainly as much an insect as vertebrate seems to have been able to attain to -human and ultra-human dimensions.” -</p> - -<p> -He does not mention the ant, but throughout his allusions the ant is -continually being brought before my mind, in its sleepless activity, in its -intelligence and social organisation, in its structure, and more particularly -in the fact that it displays, in addition to the two forms, the male and the -female form, that almost all other animals possess, a number of other sexless -creatures, workers, soldiers, and the like, differing from one another in -structure, character, power, and use, and yet all members of the same species. -For these Selenites, also, have a great variety of forms. Of course, they are -not only colossally greater in size than ants, but also, in Cavor’s -opinion at least, in intelligence, morality, and social wisdom are they -colossally greater than men. And instead of the four or five different forms of -ant that are found, there are almost innumerably different forms of Selenite. I -had endeavoured to indicate the very considerable difference observable in such -Selenites of the outer crust as I happened to encounter; the differences in -size and proportions were certainly as wide as the differences between the most -widely separated races of men. But such differences as I saw fade absolutely to -nothing in comparison with the huge distinctions of which Cavor tells. It would -seem the exterior Selenites I saw were, indeed, mostly engaged in kindred -occupations—mooncalf herds, butchers, fleshers, and the like. But within -the moon, practically unsuspected by me, there are, it seems, a number of other -sorts of Selenite, differing in size, differing in the relative size of part to -part, differing in power and appearance, and yet not different species of -creatures, but only different forms of one species, and retaining through all -their variations a certain common likeness that marks their specific unity. The -moon is, indeed, a sort of vast ant-hill, only, instead of there being only -four or five sorts of ant, there are many hundred different sorts of Selenite, -and almost every gradation between one sort and another. -</p> - -<p> -It would seem the discovery came upon Cavor very speedily. I infer rather than -learn from his narrative that he was captured by the mooncalf herds under the -direction of these other Selenites who “have larger brain cases (heads?) -and very much shorter legs.” Finding he would not walk even under the -goad, they carried him into darkness, crossed a narrow, plank-like bridge that -may have been the identical bridge I had refused, and put him down in something -that must have seemed at first to be some sort of lift. This was the -balloon—it had certainly been absolutely invisible to us in the -darkness—and what had seemed to me a mere plank-walking into the void was -really, no doubt, the passage of the gangway. In this he descended towards -constantly more luminous caverns of the moon. At first they descended in -silence—save for the twitterings of the Selenites—and then into a -stir of windy movement. In a little while the profound blackness had made his -eyes so sensitive that he began to see more and more of the things about him, -and at last the vague took shape. -</p> - -<p> -“Conceive an enormous cylindrical space,” says Cavor, in his -seventh message, “a quarter of a mile across, perhaps; very dimly lit at -first and then brighter, with big platforms twisting down its sides in a spiral -that vanishes at last below in a blue profundity; and lit even more -brightly—one could not tell how or why. Think of the well of the very -largest spiral staircase or lift-shaft that you have ever looked down, and -magnify that by a hundred. Imagine it at twilight seen through blue glass. -Imagine yourself looking down that; only imagine also that you feel -extraordinarily light, and have got rid of any giddy feeling you might have on -earth, and you will have the first conditions of my impression. Round this -enormous shaft imagine a broad gallery running in a much steeper spiral than -would be credible on earth, and forming a steep road protected from the gulf -only by a little parapet that vanishes at last in perspective a couple of miles -below. -</p> - -<p> -“Looking up, I saw the very fellow of the downward vision; it had, of -course, the effect of looking into a very steep cone. A wind was blowing down -the shaft, and far above I fancy I heard, growing fainter and fainter, the -bellowing of the mooncalves that were being driven down again from their -evening pasturage on the exterior. And up and down the spiral galleries were -scattered numerous moon people, pallid, faintly luminous beings, regarding our -appearance or busied on unknown errands. -</p> - -<p> -“Either I fancied it or a flake of snow came drifting down on the icy -breeze. And then, falling like a snowflake, a little figure, a little -man-insect, clinging to a parachute, drove down very swiftly towards the -central places of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -“The big-headed Selenite sitting beside me, seeing me move my head with -the gesture of one who saw, pointed with his trunk-like ‘hand’ and -indicated a sort of jetty coming into sight very far below: a little -landing-stage, as it were, hanging into the void. As it swept up towards us our -pace diminished very rapidly, and in a few moments, as it seemed, we were -abreast of it, and at rest. A mooring-rope was flung and grasped, and I found -myself pulled down to a level with a great crowd of Selenites, who jostled to -see me. -</p> - -<p> -“It was an incredible crowd. Suddenly and violently there was forced upon -my attention the vast amount of difference there is amongst these beings of the -moon. -</p> - -<p> -“Indeed, there seemed not two alike in all that jostling multitude. They -differed in shape, they differed in size, they rang all the horrible changes on -the theme of Selenite form! Some bulged and overhung, some ran about among the -feet of their fellows. All of them had a grotesque and disquieting suggestion -of an insect that has somehow contrived to mock humanity; but all seemed to -present an incredible exaggeration of some particular feature: one had a vast -right fore-limb, an enormous antennal arm, as it were; one seemed all leg, -poised, as it were, on stilts; another protruded the edge of his face mask into -a nose-like organ that made him startlingly human until one saw his -expressionless gaping mouth. The strange and (except for the want of mandibles -and palps) most insect-like head of the mooncalf-minders underwent, indeed, the -most incredible transformations: here it was broad and low, here high and -narrow; here its leathery brow was drawn out into horns and strange features; -here it was whiskered and divided, and there with a grotesquely human profile. -One distortion was particularly conspicuous. There were several brain cases -distended like bladders to a huge size, with the face mask reduced to quite -small proportions. There were several amazing forms, with heads reduced to -microscopic proportions and blobby bodies; and fantastic, flimsy things that -existed, it would seem, only as a basis for vast, trumpet-like protrusions of -the lower part of the mask. And oddest of all, as it seemed to me for the -moment, two or three of these weird inhabitants of a subterranean world, a -world sheltered by innumerable miles of rock from sun or rain, <i>carried -umbrellas</i> in their tentaculate hands—real terrestrial looking -umbrellas! And then I thought of the parachutist I had watched descend. -</p> - -<p> -“These moon people behaved exactly as a human crowd might have done in -similar circumstances: they jostled and thrust one another, they shoved one -another aside, they even clambered upon one another to get a glimpse of me. -Every moment they increased in numbers, and pressed more urgently upon the -discs of my ushers”—Cavor does not explain what he means by -this—“every moment fresh shapes emerged from the shadows and forced -themselves upon my astounded attention. And presently I was signed and helped -into a sort of litter, and lifted up on the shoulders of strong-armed bearers, -and so borne through the twilight over this seething multitude towards the -apartments that were provided for me in the moon. All about me were eyes, -faces, masks, a leathery noise like the rustling of beetle wings, and a great -bleating and cricket-like twittering of Selenite voices.” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -We gather he was taken to a “hexagonal apartment,” and there for a -space he was confined. Afterwards he was given a much more considerable -liberty; indeed, almost as much freedom as one has in a civilised town on -earth. And it would appear that the mysterious being who is the ruler and -master of the moon appointed two Selenites “with large heads” to -guard and study him, and to establish whatever mental communications were -possible with him. And, amazing and incredible as it may seem, these two -creatures, these fantastic men insects, these beings of other world, were -presently communicating with Cavor by means of terrestrial speech. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor speaks of them as Phi-oo and Tsi-puff. Phi-oo, he says, was about 5 feet -high; he had small slender legs about 18 inches long, and slight feet of the -common lunar pattern. On these balanced a little body, throbbing with the -pulsations of his heart. He had long, soft, many-jointed arms ending in a -tentacled grip, and his neck was many-jointed in the usual way, but -exceptionally short and thick. His head, says Cavor—apparently alluding -to some previous description that has gone astray in space—“is of -the common lunar type, but strangely modified. The mouth has the usual -expressionless gape, but it is unusually small and pointing downward, and the -mask is reduced to the size of a large flat nose-flap. On either side are the -little eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“The rest of the head is distended into a huge globe and the chitinous -leathery cuticle of the mooncalf herds thins out to a mere membrane, through -which the pulsating brain movements are distinctly visible. He is a creature, -indeed, with a tremendously hypertrophied brain, and with the rest of his -organism both relatively and absolutely dwarfed.” -</p> - -<p> -In another passage Cavor compares the back view of him to Atlas supporting the -world. Tsi-puff it seems was a very similar insect, but his “face” -was drawn out to a considerable length, and the brain hypertrophy being in -different regions, his head was not round but pear-shaped, with the stalk -downward. There were also litter-carriers, lopsided beings, with enormous -shoulders, very spidery ushers, and a squat foot attendant in Cavor’s -retinue. -</p> - -<p> -The manner in which Phi-oo and Tsi-puff attacked the problem of speech was -fairly obvious. They came into this “hexagonal cell” in which Cavor -was confined, and began imitating every sound he made, beginning with a cough. -He seems to have grasped their intention with great quickness, and to have -begun repeating words to them and pointing to indicate the application. The -procedure was probably always the same. Phi-oo would attend to Cavor for a -space, then point also and say the word he had heard. -</p> - -<p> -The first word he mastered was “man,” and the second -“Mooney”—which Cavor on the spur of the moment seems to have -used instead of “Selenite” for the moon race. As soon as Phi-oo was -assured of the meaning of a word he repeated it to Tsi-puff, who remembered it -infallibly. They mastered over one hundred English nouns at their first -session. -</p> - -<p> -Subsequently it seems they brought an artist with them to assist the work of -explanation with sketches and diagrams—Cavor’s drawings being -rather crude. “He was,” says Cavor, “a being with an active -arm and an arresting eye,” and he seemed to draw with incredible -swiftness. -</p> - -<p> -The eleventh message is undoubtedly only a fragment of a longer communication. -After some broken sentences, the record of which is unintelligible, it goes -on:— -</p> - -<p> -“But it will interest only linguists, and delay me too long, to give the -details of the series of intent parleys of which these were the beginning, and, -indeed, I very much doubt if I could give in anything like the proper order all -the twistings and turnings that we made in our pursuit of mutual comprehension. -Verbs were soon plain sailing—at least, such active verbs as I could -express by drawings; some adjectives were easy, but when it came to abstract -nouns, to prepositions, and the sort of hackneyed figures of speech, by means -of which so much is expressed on earth, it was like diving in cork-jackets. -Indeed, these difficulties were insurmountable until to the sixth lesson came a -fourth assistant, a being with a huge football-shaped head, whose <i>forte</i> -was clearly the pursuit of intricate analogy. He entered in a preoccupied -manner, stumbling against a stool, and the difficulties that arose had to be -presented to him with a certain amount of clamour and hitting and pricking -before they reached his apprehension. But once he was involved his penetration -was amazing. Whenever there came a need of thinking beyond Phi-oo’s by no -means limited scope, this prolate-headed person was in request, but he -invariably told the conclusion to Tsi-puff, in order that it might be -remembered; Tsi-puff was ever the arsenal for facts. And so we advanced again. -</p> - -<p> -“It seemed long and yet brief—a matter of days—before I was -positively talking with these insects of the moon. Of course, at first it was -an intercourse infinitely tedious and exasperating, but imperceptibly it has -grown to comprehension. And my patience has grown to meet its limitations, -Phi-oo it is who does all the talking. He does it with a vast amount of -meditative provisional ‘M’m—M’m’ and has caught -up one or two phrases, If I may say,’ ‘If you understand,’ -and beads all his speech with them. -</p> - -<p> -“Thus he would discourse. Imagine him explaining his artist. -</p> - -<p> -“‘M’m—M’m—he—if I may say—draw. -Eat little—drink little—draw. Love draw. No other thing. Hate all -who not draw like him. Angry. Hate all who draw like him better. Hate most -people. Hate all who not think all world for to draw. Angry. M’m. All -things mean nothing to him—only draw. He like you ... if you -understand.... New thing to draw. Ugly—striking. Eh? -</p> - -<p> -“‘He’—turning to Tsi-puff—‘love remember -words. Remember wonderful more than any. Think no, draw no—remember. -Say’—here he referred to his gifted assistant for a -word—‘histories—all things. He hear once—say -ever.’ -</p> - -<p> -“It is more wonderful to me than I dreamt that anything ever could be -again, to hear, in this perpetual obscurity, these extraordinary -creatures—for even familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect of -their appearance—continually piping a nearer approach to coherent earthly -speech—asking questions, giving answers. I feel that I am casting back to -the fable-hearing period of childhood again, when the ant and the grasshopper -talked together and the bee judged between them...” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -And while these linguistic exercises were going on Cavor seems to have -experienced a considerable relaxation of his confinement. “The first -dread and distrust our unfortunate conflict aroused is being,” he said, -“continually effaced by the deliberate rationality of all I do.... I am -now able to come and go as I please, or I am restricted only for my own good. -So it is I have been able to get at this apparatus, and, assisted by a happy -find among the material that is littered in this enormous store-cave, I have -contrived to despatch these messages. So far not the slightest attempt has been -made to interfere with me in this, though I have made it quite clear to Phi-oo -that I am signalling to the earth. -</p> - -<p> -“‘You talk to other?’ he asked, watching me. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Others,’ said I. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Others,’ he said. ‘Oh yes, Men?’ -</p> - -<p> -“And I went on transmitting.” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -Cavor was continually making corrections in his previous accounts of the -Selenites as fresh facts flowed upon him to modify his conclusions, and -accordingly one gives the quotations that follow with a certain amount of -reservation. They are quoted from the ninth, thirteenth, and sixteenth -messages, and, altogether vague and fragmentary as they are, they probably give -as complete a picture of the social life of this strange community as mankind -can now hope to have for many generations. -</p> - -<p> -“In the moon,” says Cavor, “every citizen knows his place. He -is born to that place, and the elaborate discipline of training and education -and surgery he undergoes fits him at last so completely to it that he has -neither ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it. ‘Why should -he?’ Phi-oo would ask. If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a -mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. They -check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage his -mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill. His brain grows, or at -least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and the rest of him only so -much as is necessary to sustain this essential part of him. At last, save for -rest and food, his one delight lies in the exercise and display of his faculty, -his one interest in its application, his sole society with other specialists in -his own line. His brain grows continually larger, at least so far as the -portions engaging in mathematics are concerned; they bulge ever larger and seem -to suck all life and vigour from the rest of his frame. His limbs shrivel, his -heart and digestive organs diminish, his insect face is hidden under its -bulging contours. His voice becomes a mere stridulation for the stating of -formulæ; he seems deaf to all but properly enunciated problems. The faculty of -laughter, save for the sudden discovery of some paradox, is lost to him; his -deepest emotion is the evolution of a novel computation. And so he attains his -end. -</p> - -<p> -“Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a minder of mooncalves is from his -earliest years induced to think and live mooncalf, to find his pleasure in -mooncalf lore, his exercise in their tending and pursuit. He is trained to -become wiry and active, his eye is indurated to the tight wrappings, the -angular contours that constitute a ‘smart mooncalfishness.’ He -takes at last no interest in the deeper part of the moon; he regards all -Selenites not equally versed in mooncalves with indifference, derision, or -hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf pastures, and his dialect an -accomplished mooncalf technique. So also he loves his work, and discharges in -perfect happiness the duty that justifies his being. And so it is with all -sorts and conditions of Selenites—each is a perfect unit in a world -machine.... -</p> - -<p> -“These beings with big heads, on whom the intellectual labours fall, form -a sort of aristocracy in this strange society, and at the head of them, -quintessential of the moon, is that marvellous gigantic ganglion the Grand -Lunar, into whose presence I am finally to come. The unlimited development of -the minds of the intellectual class is rendered possible by the absence of any -bony skull in the lunar anatomy, that strange box of bone that clamps about the -developing brain of man, imperiously insisting ‘thus far and no -farther’ to all his possibilities. They fall into three main classes -differing greatly in influence and respect. There are administrators, of whom -Phi-oo is one, Selenites of considerable initiative and versatility, -responsible each for a certain cubic content of the moon’s bulk; the -experts like the football-headed thinker, who are trained to perform certain -special operations; and the erudite, who are the repositories of all knowledge. -To the latter class belongs Tsi-puff, the first lunar professor of terrestrial -languages. With regard to these latter, it is a curious little thing to note -that the unlimited growth of the lunar brain has rendered unnecessary the -invention of all those mechanical aids to brain work which have distinguished -the career of man. There are no books, no records of any sort, no libraries or -inscriptions. All knowledge is stored in distended brains much as the -honey-ants of Texas store honey in their distended abdomens. The lunar Somerset -House and the lunar British Museum Library are collections of living brains... -</p> - -<p> -“The less specialised administrators, I note, do for the most part take a -very lively interest in me whenever they encounter me. They will come out of -the way and stare at me and ask questions to which Phi-oo will reply. I see -them going hither and thither with a retinue of bearers, attendants, shouters, -parachute-carriers, and so forth—queer groups to see. The experts for the -most part ignore me completely, even as they ignore each other, or notice me -only to begin a clamorous exhibition of their distinctive skill. The erudite -for the most part are rapt in an impervious and apoplectic complacency, from -which only a denial of their erudition can rouse them. Usually they are led -about by little watchers and attendants, and often there are small and -active-looking creatures, small females usually, that I am inclined to think -are a sort of wife to them; but some of the profounder scholars are altogether -too great for locomotion, and are carried from place to place in a sort of -sedan tub, wabbling jellies of knowledge that enlist my respectful -astonishment. I have just passed one in coming to this place where I am -permitted to amuse myself with these electrical toys, a vast, shaven, shaky -head, bald and thin-skinned, carried on his grotesque stretcher. In front and -behind came his bearers, and curious, almost trumpet-faced, news disseminators -shrieked his fame. -</p> - -<p> -“I have already mentioned the retinues that accompany most of the -intellectuals: ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles and muscles, as it -were, to replace the abortive physical powers of these hypertrophied minds. -Porters almost invariably accompany them. There are also extremely swift -messengers with spider-like legs and ‘hands’ for grasping -parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs that could well nigh wake the -dead. Apart from their controlling intelligence these subordinates are as inert -and helpless as umbrellas in a stand. They exist only in relation to the orders -they have to obey, the duties they have to perform. -</p> - -<p> -“The bulk of these insects, however, who go to and fro upon the spiral -ways, who fill the ascending balloons and drop past me clinging to flimsy -parachutes are, I gather, of the operative class. ‘Machine hands,’ -indeed, some of these are in actual nature—it is no figure of speech, the -single tentacle of the mooncalf herd is profoundly modified for clawing, -lifting, guiding, the rest of them no more than necessary subordinate -appendages to these important parts. Some, who I suppose deal with -bell-striking mechanisms, have enormously developed auditory organs; some whose -work lies in delicate chemical operations project a vast olfactory organ; -others again have flat feet for treadles with anchylosed joints; and -others—who I have been told are glassblowers—seem mere -lung-bellows. But every one of these common Selenites I have seen at work is -exquisitely adapted to the social need it meets. Fine work is done by -fined-down workers, amazingly dwarfed and neat. Some I could hold on the palm -of my hand. There is even a sort of turnspit Selenite, very common, whose duty -and only delight it is to apply the motive power for various small appliances. -And to rule over these things and order any erring tendency there might be in -some aberrant natures are the most muscular beings I have seen in the moon, a -sort of lunar police, who must have been trained from their earliest years to -give a perfect respect and obedience to the swollen heads. -</p> - -<p> -“The making of these various sorts of operative must be a very curious -and interesting process. I am very much in the dark about it, but quite -recently I came upon a number of young Selenites confined in jars from which -only the fore-limbs protruded, who were being compressed to become -machine-minders of a special sort. The extended ‘hand’ in this -highly developed system of technical education is stimulated by irritants and -nourished by injection, while the rest of the body is starved. Phi-oo, unless I -misunderstood him, explained that in the earlier stages these queer little -creatures are apt to display signs of suffering in their various cramped -situations, but they easily become indurated to their lot; and he took me on to -where a number of flexible-minded messengers were being drawn out and broken -in. It is quite unreasonable, I know, but such glimpses of the educational -methods of these beings affect me disagreeably. I hope, however, that may pass -off, and I may be able to see more of this aspect of their wonderful social -order. That wretched-looking hand-tentacle sticking out of its jar seemed to -have a sort of limp appeal for lost possibilities; it haunts me still, -although, of course it is really in the end a far more humane proceeding than -our earthly method of leaving children to grow into human beings, and then -making machines of them. -</p> - -<p> -“Quite recently, too—I think it was on the eleventh or twelfth -visit I made to this apparatus—I had a curious light upon the lives of -these operatives. I was being guided through a short cut hither, instead of -going down the spiral, and by the quays to the Central Sea. From the devious -windings of a long, dark gallery, we emerged into a vast, low cavern, pervaded -by an earthy smell, and as things go in this darkness, rather brightly lit. The -light came from a tumultuous growth of livid fungoid shapes—some indeed -singularly like our terrestrial mushrooms, but standing as high or higher than -a man. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Mooneys eat these?’ said I to Phi-oo. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Yes, food.’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘Goodness me!’ I cried; ‘what’s that?’ -</p> - -<p> -“My eye had just caught the figure of an exceptionally big and ungainly -Selenite lying motionless among the stems, face downward. We stopped. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Dead?’ I asked. (For as yet I have seen no dead in the -moon, and I have grown curious.) -</p> - -<p> -“‘<i>No!</i>’ exclaimed Phi-oo. -‘Him—worker—no work to do. Get little drink then—make -sleep—till we him want. What good him wake, eh? No want him walking -about.’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘There’s another!’ cried I. -</p> - -<p> -“And indeed all that huge extent of mushroom ground was, I found, -peppered with these prostrate figures sleeping under an opiate until the moon -had need of them. There were scores of them of all sorts, and we were able to -turn over some of them, and examine them more precisely than I had been able to -do previously. They breathed noisily at my doing so, but did not wake. One, I -remember very distinctly: he left a strong impression, I think, because some -trick of the light and of his attitude was strongly suggestive of a drawn-up -human figure. His fore-limbs were long, delicate tentacles—he was some -kind of refined manipulator—and the pose of his slumber suggested a -submissive suffering. No doubt it was a mistake for me to interpret his -expression in that way, but I did. And as Phi-oo rolled him over into the -darkness among the livid fleshiness again I felt a distinctly unpleasant -sensation, although as he rolled the insect in him was confessed. -</p> - -<p> -“It simply illustrates the unthinking way in which one acquires habits of -feeling. To drug the worker one does not want and toss him aside is surely far -better than to expel him from his factory to wander starving in the streets. In -every complicated social community there is necessarily a certain intermittency -of employment for all specialised labour, and in this way the trouble of an -‘unemployed’ problem is altogether anticipated. And yet, so -unreasonable are even scientifically trained minds, I still do not like the -memory of those prostrate forms amidst those quiet, luminous arcades of fleshy -growth, and I avoid that short cut in spite of the inconveniences of the -longer, more noisy, and more crowded alternative. -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -“My alternative route takes me round by a huge, shadowy cavern, very -crowded and clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of the hexagonal -openings of a sort of honeycomb wall, or parading a large open space behind, or -selecting the toys and amulets made to please them by the dainty-tentacled -jewellers who work in kennels below, the mothers of the moon world—the -queen bees, as it were, of the hive. They are noble-looking beings, -fantastically and sometimes quite beautifully adorned, with a proud carriage, -and, save for their mouths, almost microscopic heads. -</p> - -<p> -“Of the condition of the moon sexes, marrying and giving in marriage, and -of birth and so forth among the Selenites, I have as yet been able to learn -very little. With the steady progress of Phi-oo in English, however, my -ignorance will no doubt as steadily disappear. I am of opinion that, as with -the ants and bees, there is a large majority of the members in this community -of the neuter sex. Of course on earth in our cities there are now many who -never live that life of parentage which is the natural life of man. Here, as -with the ants, this thing has become a normal condition of the race, and the -whole of such replacement as is necessary falls upon this special and by no -means numerous class of matrons, the mothers of the moon-world, large and -stately beings beautifully fitted to bear the larval Selenite. Unless I -misunderstand an explanation of Phi-oo’s, they are absolutely incapable -of cherishing the young they bring into the moon; periods of foolish indulgence -alternate with moods of aggressive violence, and as soon as possible the little -creatures, who are quite soft and flabby and pale coloured, are transferred to -the charge of celibate females, women ‘workers’ as it were, who in -some cases possess brains of almost masculine dimensions.” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -Just at this point, unhappily, this message broke off. Fragmentary and -tantalising as the matter constituting this chapter is, it does nevertheless -give a vague, broad impression of an altogether strange and wonderful -world—a world with which our own may have to reckon we know not how -speedily. This intermittent trickle of messages, this whispering of a record -needle in the stillness of the mountain slopes, is the first warning of such a -change in human conditions as mankind has scarcely imagined heretofore. In that -satellite of ours there are new elements, new appliances, traditions, an -overwhelming avalanche of new ideas, a strange race with whom we must -inevitably struggle for mastery—gold as common as iron or wood... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap25"></a>XXV.<br /> -The Grand Lunar</h2> - -<p> -The penultimate message describes, with occasionally elaborate detail, the -encounter between Cavor and the Grand Lunar, who is the ruler or master of the -moon. Cavor seems to have sent most of it without interference, but to have -been interrupted in the concluding portion. The second came after an interval -of a week. -</p> - -<p> -The first message begins: “At last I am able to resume this—” -it then becomes illegible for a space, and after a time resumed in -mid-sentence. -</p> - -<p> -The missing words of the following sentence are probably “the -crowd.” There follows quite clearly: “grew ever denser as we drew -near the palace of the Grand Lunar—if I may call a series of excavations -a palace. Everywhere faces stared at me—blank, chitinous gapes and masks, -eyes peering over tremendous olfactory developments, eyes beneath monstrous -forehead plates; and undergrowth of smaller creatures dodged and yelped, and -helmet faces poised on sinuous, long-jointed necks appeared craning over -shoulders and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome space about me marched a -cordon of stolid, scuttle-headed guards, who had joined us on our leaving the -boat in which we had come along the channels of the Central Sea. The quick-eyed -artist with the little brain joined us also, and a thick bunch of lean -porter-insects swayed and struggled under the multitude of conveniences that -were considered essential to my state. I was carried in a litter during the -final stage of our journey. This litter was made of some very ductile metal -that looked dark to me, meshed and woven, and with bars of paler metal, and -about me as I advanced there grouped itself a long and complicated procession. -</p> - -<p> -“In front, after the manner of heralds, marched four trumpet-faced -creatures making a devastating bray; and then came squat, resolute-moving -ushers before and behind, and on either hand a galaxy of learned heads, a sort -of animated encyclopedia, who were, Phi-oo explained, to stand about the Grand -Lunar for purposes of reference. (Not a thing in lunar science, not a point of -view or method of thinking, that these wonderful beings did not carry in their -heads!) Followed guards and porters, and then Phi-oo’s shivering brain -borne also on a litter. Then came Tsi-puff in a slightly less important litter; -then myself on a litter of greater elegance than any other, and surrounded by -my food and drink attendants. More trumpeters came next, splitting the ear with -vehement outcries, and then several big brains, special correspondents one -might well call them, or historiographers, charged with the task of observing -and remembering every detail of this epoch-making interview. A company of -attendants, bearing and dragging banners and masses of scented fungus and -curious symbols, vanished in the darkness behind. The way was lined by ushers -and officers in caparisons that gleamed like steel, and beyond their line, so -far as my eyes could pierce the gloom, the heads of that enormous crowd -extended. -</p> - -<p> -“I will own that I am still by no means indurated to the peculiar effect -of the Selenite appearance, and to find myself, as it were, adrift on this -broad sea of excited entomology was by no means agreeable. Just for a space I -had something very like what I should imagine people mean when they speak of -the ‘horrors.’ It had come to me before in these lunar caverns, -when on occasion I have found myself weaponless and with an undefended back, -amidst a crowd of these Selenites, but never quite so vividly. It is, of -course, as absolutely irrational a feeling as one could well have, and I hope -gradually to subdue it. But just for a moment, as I swept forward into the -welter of the vast crowd, it was only by gripping my litter tightly and -summoning all my will-power that I succeeded in avoiding an outcry or some such -manifestation. It lasted perhaps three minutes; then I had myself in hand -again. -</p> - -<p> -“We ascended the spiral of a vertical way for some time, and then passed -through a series of huge halls dome-roofed and elaborately decorated. The -approach to the Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to give one a vivid -impression of his greatness. Each cavern one entered seemed greater and more -boldly arched than its predecessor. This effect of progressive size was -enhanced by a thin haze of faintly phosphorescent blue incense that thickened -as one advanced, and robbed even the nearer figures of clearness. I seemed to -advance continually to something larger, dimmer, and less material. -</p> - -<p> -“I must confess that all this multitude made me feel extremely shabby and -unworthy. I was unshaven and unkempt; I had brought no razor; I had a coarse -beard over my mouth. On earth I have always been inclined to despise any -attention to my person beyond a proper care for cleanliness; but under the -exceptional circumstances in which I found myself, representing, as I did, my -planet and my kind, and depending very largely upon the attractiveness of my -appearance for a proper reception, I could have given much for something a -little more artistic and dignified than the husks I wore. I had been so serene -in the belief that the moon was uninhabited as to overlook such precautions -altogether. As it was I was dressed in a flannel jacket, knickerbockers, and -golfing stockings, stained with every sort of dirt the moon offered, slippers -(of which the left heel was wanting), and a blanket, through a hole in which I -thrust my head. (These clothes, indeed, I still wear.) Sharp bristles are -anything but an improvement to my cast of features, and there was an unmended -tear at the knee of my knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as I squatted -in my litter; my right stocking, too, persisted in getting about my ankle. I am -fully alive to the injustice my appearance did humanity, and if by any -expedient I could have improvised something a little out of the way and -imposing I would have done so. But I could hit upon nothing. I did what I could -with my blanket—folding it somewhat after the fashion of a toga, and for -the rest I sat as upright as the swaying of my litter permitted. -</p> - -<p> -“Imagine the largest hall you have ever been in, imperfectly lit with -blue light and obscured by a grey-blue fog, surging with metallic or livid-grey -creatures of such a mad diversity as I have hinted. Imagine this hall to end in -an open archway beyond which is a still larger hall, and beyond this yet -another and still larger one, and so on. At the end of the vista, dimly seen, a -flight of steps, like the steps of Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend out of sight. -Higher and higher these steps appear to go as one draws nearer their base. But -at last I came under a huge archway and beheld the summit of these steps, and -upon it the Grand Lunar exalted on his throne. -</p> - -<p> -“He was seated in what was relatively a blaze of incandescent blue. This, -and the darkness about him gave him an effect of floating in a blue-black void. -He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud at first, brooding on his sombre throne; -his brain case must have measured many yards in diameter. For some reason that -I cannot fathom a number of blue search-lights radiated from behind the throne -on which he sat, and immediately encircling him was a halo. About him, and -little and indistinct in this glow, a number of body-servants sustained and -supported him, and overshadowed and standing in a huge semicircle beneath him -were his intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers and computators and -searchers and servants, and all the distinguished insects of the court of the -moon. Still lower stood ushers and messengers, and then all down the countless -steps of the throne were guards, and at the base, enormous, various, -indistinct, vanishing at last into an absolute black, a vast swaying multitude -of the minor dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a perpetual scraping -whisper on the rocky floor, as their limbs moved with a rustling murmur. -</p> - -<p> -“As I entered the penultimate hall the music rose and expanded into an -imperial magnificence of sound, and the shrieks of the news-bearers died -away.... -</p> - -<p> -“I entered the last and greatest hall.... -</p> - -<p> -“My procession opened out like a fan. My ushers and guards went right and -left, and the three litters bearing myself and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff marched -across a shiny darkness of floor to the foot of the giant stairs. Then began a -vast throbbing hum, that mingled with the music. The two Selenites dismounted, -but I was bidden remain seated—I imagine as a special honour. The music -ceased, but not that humming, and by a simultaneous movement of ten thousand -respectful heads my attention was directed to the enhaloed supreme intelligence -that hovered above me. -</p> - -<p> -“At first as I peered into the radiating glow this quintessential brain -looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim, undulating -ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within. Then beneath its enormity and -just above the edge of the throne one saw with a start minute elfin eyes -peering out of the glow. No face, but eyes, as if they peered through holes. At -first I could see no more than these two staring little eyes, and then below I -distinguished the little dwarfed body and its insect-jointed limbs shrivelled -and white. The eyes stared down at me with a strange intensity, and the lower -part of the swollen globe was wrinkled. Ineffectual-looking little -hand-tentacles steadied this shape on the throne.... -</p> - -<p> -“It was great. It was pitiful. One forgot the hall and the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -“I ascended the staircase by jerks. It seemed to me that this darkly -glowing brain case above us spread over me, and took more and more of the whole -effect into itself as I drew nearer. The tiers of attendants and helpers -grouped about their master seemed to dwindle and fade into the night. I saw -that shadowy attendants were busy spraying that great brain with a cooling -spray, and patting and sustaining it. For my own part, I sat gripping my -swaying litter and staring at the Grand Lunar, unable to turn my gaze aside. -And at last, as I reached a little landing that was separated only by ten steps -or so from the supreme seat, the woven splendour of the music reached a climax -and ceased, and I was left naked, as it were, in that vastness, beneath the -still scrutiny of the Grand Lunar’s eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“He was scrutinising the first man he had ever seen.... -</p> - -<p> -“My eyes dropped at last from his greatness to the ant figures in the -blue mist about him, and then down the steps to the massed Selenites, still and -expectant in their thousands, packed on the floor below. Once again an -unreasonable horror reached out towards me.... And passed. -</p> - -<p> -“After the pause came the salutation. I was assisted from my litter, and -stood awkwardly while a number of curious and no doubt deeply symbolical -gestures were vicariously performed for me by two slender officials. The -encyclopaedic galaxy of the learned that had accompanied me to the entrance of -the last hall appeared two steps above me and left and right of me, in -readiness for the Grand Lunar’s need, and Phi-oo’s pale brain -placed itself about half-way up to the throne in such a position as to -communicate easily between us without turning his back on either the Grand -Lunar or myself. Tsi-puff took up a position behind him. Dexterous ushers -sidled sideways towards me, keeping a full face to the Presence. I seated -myself Turkish fashion, and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff also knelt down above me. There -came a pause. The eyes of the nearer court went from me to the Grand Lunar and -came back to me, and a hissing and piping of expectation passed across the -hidden multitudes below and ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“That humming ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“For the first and last time in my experience the moon was silent. -</p> - -<p> -“I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. The Grand Lunar was addressing -me. It was like the rubbing of a finger upon a pane of glass. -</p> - -<p> -“I watched him attentively for a time, and then glanced at the alert -Phi-oo. I felt amidst these slender beings ridiculously thick and fleshy and -solid; my head all jaw and black hair. My eyes went back to the Grand Lunar. He -had ceased; his attendants were busy, and his shining superficies was -glistening and running with cooling spray. -</p> - -<p> -“Phi-oo meditated through an interval. He consulted Tsi-puff. Then he -began piping his recognisable English—at first a little nervously, so -that he was not very clear. -</p> - -<p> -“‘M’m—the Grand Lunar—wished to say—wishes -to say—he gathers you are—m’m—men—that you are a -man from the planet earth. He wishes to say that he welcomes you—welcomes -you—and wishes to learn—learn, if I may use the word—the -state of your world, and the reason why you came to this.’ -</p> - -<p> -“He paused. I was about to reply when he resumed. He proceeded to remarks -of which the drift was not very clear, though I am inclined to think they were -intended to be complimentary. He told me that the earth was to the moon what -the sun is to the earth, and that the Selenites desired very greatly to learn -about the earth and men. He then told me no doubt in compliment also, the -relative magnitude and diameter of earth and moon, and the perpetual wonder and -speculation with which the Selenites had regarded our planet. I meditated with -downcast eyes, and decided to reply that men too had wondered what might lie in -the moon, and had judged it dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had -seen that day. The Grand Lunar, in token of recognition, caused his long blue -rays to rotate in a very confusing manner, and all about the great hall ran the -pipings and whisperings and rustlings of the report of what I had said. He then -proceeded to put to Phi-oo a number of inquiries which were easier to answer. -</p> - -<p> -“He understood, he explained, that we lived on the surface of the earth, -that our air and sea were outside the globe; the latter part, indeed, he -already knew from his astronomical specialists. He was very anxious to have -more detailed information of what he called this extraordinary state of -affairs, for from the solidity of the earth there had always been a disposition -to regard it as uninhabitable. He endeavoured first to ascertain the extremes -of temperature to which we earth beings were exposed, and he was deeply -interested by my descriptive treatment of clouds and rain. His imagination was -assisted by the fact that the lunar atmosphere in the outer galleries of the -night side is not infrequently very foggy. He seemed inclined to marvel that we -did not find the sunlight too intense for our eyes, and was interested in my -attempt to explain that the sky was tempered to a bluish colour through the -refraction of the air, though I doubt if he clearly understood that. I -explained how the iris of the human eyes can contract the pupil and save the -delicate internal structure from the excess of sunlight, and was allowed to -approach within a few feet of the Presence in order that this structure might -be seen. This led to a comparison of the lunar and terrestrial eyes. The former -is not only excessively sensitive to such light as men can see, but it can also -<i>see</i> heat, and every difference in temperature within the moon renders -objects visible to it. -</p> - -<p> -“The iris was quite a new organ to the Grand Lunar. For a time he amused -himself by flashing his rays into my face and watching my pupils contract. As a -consequence, I was dazzled and blinded for some little time.... -</p> - -<p> -“But in spite of that discomfort I found something reassuring by -insensible degrees in the rationality of this business of question and answer. -I could shut my eyes, think of my answer, and almost forget that the the Grand -Lunar has no face.... -</p> - -<p> -“When I had descended again to my proper place the Grand Lunar asked how -we sheltered ourselves from heat and storms, and I expounded to him the arts of -building and furnishing. Here we wandered into misunderstandings and -cross-purposes, due largely, I must admit, to the looseness of my expressions. -For a long time I had great difficulty in making him understand the nature of a -house. To him and his attendant Selenites it seemed, no doubt, the most -whimsical thing in the world that men should build houses when they might -descend into excavations, and an additional complication was introduced by the -attempt I made to explain that men had originally begun their homes in caves, -and that they were now taking their railways and many establishments beneath -the surface. Here I think a desire for intellectual completeness betrayed me. -There was also a considerable tangle due to an equally unwise attempt on my -part to explain about mines. Dismissing this topic at last in an incomplete -state, the Grand Lunar inquired what we did with the interior of our globe. -</p> - -<p> -“A tide of twittering and piping swept into the remotest corners of that -great assembly when it was at last made clear that we men know absolutely -nothing of the contents of the world upon which the immemorial generations of -our ancestors had been evolved. Three times had I to repeat that of all the -4000 miles of distance between the earth and its centre men knew only to the -depth of a mile, and that very vaguely. I understood the Grand Lunar to ask why -had I come to the moon seeing we had scarcely touched our own planet yet, but -he did not trouble me at that time to proceed to an explanation, being too -anxious to pursue the details of this mad inversion of all his ideas. -</p> - -<p> -“He reverted to the question of weather, and I tried to describe the -perpetually changing sky, and snow, and frost and hurricanes. ‘But when -the night comes,’ he asked, ‘is it not cold?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I told him it was colder than by day. -</p> - -<p> -“‘And does not your atmosphere freeze?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I told him not; that it was never cold enough for that, because our -nights were so short. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Not even liquefy?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I was about to say ‘No,’ but then it occurred to me that one -part at least of our atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does sometimes liquefy -and form dew, and sometimes freeze and form frost—a process perfectly -analogous to the freezing of all the external atmosphere of the moon during its -longer night. I made myself clear on this point, and from that the Grand Lunar -went on to speak with me of sleep. For the need of sleep that comes so -regularly every twenty-four hours to all things is part also of our earthly -inheritance. On the moon they rest only at rare intervals, and after -exceptional exertions. Then I tried to describe to him the soft splendours of a -summer night, and from that I passed to a description of those animals that -prowl by night and sleep by day. I told him of lions and tigers, and here it -seemed as though we had come to a deadlock. For, save in their waters, there -are no creatures in the moon not absolutely domestic and subject to his will, -and so it has been for immemorial years. They have monstrous water creatures, -but no evil beasts, and the idea of anything strong and large existing -‘outside’ in the night is very difficult for them....” -</p> - -<p> -[The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps twenty -words or more.] -</p> - -<p> -“He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange -superficiality and unreasonableness of (man) who lives on the mere surface of a -world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances of space, who cannot -even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon his kind, and yet who dares to -invade another planet. During this aside I sat thinking, and then at his desire -I told him of the different sorts of men. He searched me with questions. -‘And for all sorts of work you have the same sort of men. But who thinks? -Who governs?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I gave him an outline of the democratic method. -</p> - -<p> -“When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then -requested me to repeat my explanation conceiving something had miscarried. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Do they not do different things, then?’ said Phi-oo. -</p> - -<p> -“Some, I admitted, were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some -were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. ‘But <i>all</i> rule,’ -I said. -</p> - -<p> -“‘And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different -duties?’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘None that you can see,’ I said, ‘except perhaps, for -clothes. Their minds perhaps differ a little,’ I reflected. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Their minds must differ a great deal,’ said the Grand -Lunar, ‘or they would all want to do the same things.’ -</p> - -<p> -“In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his preconceptions, -I said that his surmise was right. ‘It was all hidden in the -brain,’ I said; but the difference was there. Perhaps if one could see -the minds and souls of men they would be as varied and unequal as the -Selenites. There were great men and small men, men who could reach out far and -wide, men who could go swiftly; noisy, trumpet-minded men, and men who could -remember without thinking....’” [The record is indistinct for three -words.] -</p> - -<p> -“He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statements. ‘But you -said all men rule?’ he pressed. -</p> - -<p> -“‘To a certain extent,’ I said, and made, I fear, a denser -fog with my explanation. -</p> - -<p> -“He reached out to a salient fact. ‘Do you mean,’ asked, -‘that there is no Grand Earthly?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I -explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth had -usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large and -influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged, the -Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At which the Grand -Lunar was even more amazed. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?’ he -asked; and I explained to him the way we helped our limited [A word omitted -here, probably “brains.”] with libraries of books. I explained to -him how our science was growing by the united labours of innumerable little -men, and on that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered -much in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the moon. -Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites grew and -changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and remained -brutes—equipped. He said this...” [Here there is a short piece of -the record indistinct.] -</p> - -<p> -“He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours, and -I described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not understand -that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but when he did he was -clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing, that the Selenites use -years to count by, just as we do on earth, though I can make nothing of their -numeral system. That, however, does not matter, because Phi-oo understands -ours.) From that I went on to tell him that mankind had dwelt in cities only -for nine or ten thousand years, and that we were still not united in one -brotherhood, but under many different forms of government. This astonished the -Grand Lunar very much, when it was made clear to him. At first he thought we -referred merely to administrative areas. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what -order will some day be,’ I said, and so I came to tell him....” -[At this point a length of record that probably represents thirty or forty -words is totally illegible.] -</p> - -<p> -“The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging to -the inconvenience of diverse tongues. ‘They want to communicate, and yet -not to communicate,’ he said, and then for a long time he questioned me -closely concerning war. -</p> - -<p> -“He was at first perplexed and incredulous. ‘You mean to -say,’ he asked, seeking confirmation, ‘that you run about over the -surface of your world—this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to -scrape—killing one another for beasts to eat?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I told him that was perfectly correct. -</p> - -<p> -“He asked for particulars to assist his imagination. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?’ -he asked, and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress -him almost as much as the killing. ‘Tell me more,’ said the Grand -Lunar; ‘make me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.’ -</p> - -<p> -“And so, for a space, though something loath, I told him the story of -earthly War. -</p> - -<p> -“I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and -ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an idea of -manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of sieges and assaults, -of starvation and hardship in trenches, and of sentinels freezing in the snow. -I told him of routs and surprises, and desperate last stands and faint hopes, -and the pitiless pursuit of fugitives and the dead upon the field. I told, too, -of the past, of invasions and massacres, of the Huns and Tartars, and the wars -of Mahomet and the Caliphs, and of the Crusades. And as I went on, and Phi-oo -translated, the Selenites cooed and murmured in a steadily intensified emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“I told them an ironclad could fire a shot of a ton twelve miles, and go -through 20 feet of iron—and how we could steer torpedoes under water. I -went on to describe a Maxim gun in action, and what I could imagine of the -Battle of Colenso. The Grand Lunar was so incredulous that he interrupted the -translation of what I had said in order to have my verification of my account. -They particularly doubted my description of the men cheering and rejoicing as -they went into battle. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But surely they do not like it!’ translated Phi-oo. -</p> - -<p> -“I assured them men of my race considered battle the most glorious -experience of life, at which the whole assembly was stricken with amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But what good is this war?’ asked the Grand Lunar, sticking -to his theme. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Oh! as for <i>good</i>!’ said I; ‘it thins the -population!’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘But why should there be a need—?’ -</p> - -<p> -“There came a pause, the cooling sprays impinged upon his brow, and then -he spoke again.” -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -At this point a series of undulations that have been apparent as a perplexing -complication as far back as Cavor’s description of the silence that fell -before the first speaking of the Grand Lunar become confusingly predominant in -the record. These undulations are evidently the result of radiations proceeding -from a lunar source, and their persistent approximation to the alternating -signals of Cavor is curiously suggestive of some operator deliberately seeking -to mix them in with his message and render it illegible. At first they are -small and regular, so that with a little care and the loss of very few words we -have been able to disentangle Cavor’s message; then they become broad and -larger, then suddenly they are irregular, with an irregularity that gives the -effect at last of some one scribbling through a line of writing. For a long -time nothing can be made of this madly zigzagging trace; then quite abruptly -the interruption ceases, leaves a few words clear, and then resumes and -continues for the rest of the message, completely obliterating whatever Cavor -was attempting to transmit. Why, if this is indeed a deliberate intervention, -the Selenites should have preferred to let Cavor go on transmitting his message -in happy ignorance of their obliteration of its record, when it was clearly -quite in their power and much more easy and convenient for them to stop his -proceedings at any time, is a problem to which I can contribute nothing. The -thing seems to have happened so, and that is all I can say. This last rag of -his description of the Grand Lunar begins in mid-sentence. -</p> - -<p> -“...interrogated me very closely upon my secret. I was able in a little -while to get to an understanding with them, and at last to elucidate what has -been a puzzle to me ever since I realised the vastness of their science, -namely, how it is they themselves have never discovered Cavorite.’ I find -they know of it as a theoretical substance, but they have always regarded it as -a practical impossibility, because for some reason there is no helium in the -moon, and helium...” -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -Across the last letters of helium slashes the resumption of that obliterating -trace. Note that word “secret,” for on that, and that alone, I base -my interpretation of the message that follows, the last message, as both Mr. -Wendigee and myself now believe it to be, that he is ever likely to send us. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap26"></a>XXVI.<br /> -The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth</h2> - -<p> -On this unsatisfactory manner the penultimate message of Cavor dies out. One -seems to see him away there in the blue obscurity amidst his apparatus intently -signalling us to the last, all unaware of the curtain of confusion that drops -between us; all unaware, too, of the final dangers that even then must have -been creeping upon him. His disastrous want of vulgar common sense had utterly -betrayed him. He had talked of war, he had talked of all the strength and -irrational violence of men, of their insatiable aggressions, their tireless -futility of conflict. He had filled the whole moon world with this impression -of our race, and then I think it is plain that he made the most fatal admission -that upon himself alone hung the possibility—at least for a long -time—of any further men reaching the moon. The line the cold, inhuman -reason of the moon would take seems plain enough to me, and a suspicion of it, -and then perhaps some sudden sharp realisation of it, must have come to him. -One imagines him about the moon with the remorse of this fatal indiscretion -growing in his mind. During a certain time I am inclined to guess the Grand -Lunar was deliberating the new situation, and for all that time Cavor may have -gone as free as ever he had gone. But obstacles of some sort prevented his -getting to his electromagnetic apparatus again after that message I have just -given. For some days we received nothing. Perhaps he was having fresh -audiences, and trying to evade his previous admissions. Who can hope to guess? -</p> - -<p> -And then suddenly, like a cry in the night, like a cry that is followed by a -stillness, came the last message. It is the briefest fragment, the broken -beginnings of two sentences. -</p> - -<p> -The first was: “I was mad to let the Grand Lunar know—” -</p> - -<p> -There was an interval of perhaps a minute. One imagines some interruption from -without. A departure from the instrument—a dreadful hesitation among the -looming masses of apparatus in that dim, blue-lit cavern—a sudden rush -back to it, full of a resolve that came too late. Then, as if it were hastily -transmitted came: “Cavorite made as follows: take—” -</p> - -<p> -There followed one word, a quite unmeaning word as it stands: -“uless.” -</p> - -<p> -And that is all. -</p> - -<p> -It may be he made a hasty attempt to spell “useless” when his fate -was close upon him. Whatever it was that was happening about that apparatus we -cannot tell. Whatever it was we shall never, I know, receive another message -from the moon. For my own part a vivid dream has come to my help, and I see, -almost as plainly as though I had seen it in actual fact, a blue-lit shadowy -dishevelled Cavor struggling in the grip of these insect Selenites, struggling -ever more desperately and hopelessly as they press upon him, shouting, -expostulating, perhaps even at last fighting, and being forced backwards step -by step out of all speech or sign of his fellows, for evermore into the -Unknown—into the dark, into that silence that has no end.... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1013 ***</div> -</body> -</html> - diff --git a/old/1013-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/1013-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a8f891c..0000000 --- a/old/1013-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/1013.txt b/old/old/1013.txt deleted file mode 100644 index bf9c38e..0000000 --- a/old/old/1013.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8010 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The First Men In The Moon, by H. G. Wells - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net - - -Title: The First Men In The Moon - -Author: H. G. Wells - -Release Date: October 20, 2004 [EBook #1013] -Last updated: July 13, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON *** - - - - -This Project Gutenberg Etext was prepared by Barry Haworth. - - - - - - - - -THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON - -by H.G. Wells - - - - -Chapter 1 - - - - -Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne - -As I sit down to write here amidst the shadows of vine-leaves under the -blue sky of southern Italy, it comes to me with a certain quality of -astonishment that my participation in these amazing adventures of Mr. -Cavor was, after all, the outcome of the purest accident. It might have -been any one. I fell into these things at a time when I thought myself -removed from the slightest possibility of disturbing experiences. I had -gone to Lympne because I had imagined it the most uneventful place in the -world. "Here, at any rate," said I, "I shall find peace and a chance to -work!" - -And this book is the sequel. So utterly at variance is destiny with all -the little plans of men. I may perhaps mention here that very recently I -had come an ugly cropper in certain business enterprises. Sitting now -surrounded by all the circumstances of wealth, there is a luxury in -admitting my extremity. I can admit, even, that to a certain extent my -disasters were conceivably of my own making. It may be there are -directions in which I have some capacity, but the conduct of business -operations is not among these. But in those days I was young, and my youth -among other objectionable forms took that of a pride in my capacity for -affairs. I am young still in years, but the things that have happened to -me have rubbed something of the youth from my mind. Whether they have -brought any wisdom to light below it is a more doubtful matter. - -It is scarcely necessary to go into the details of the speculations that -landed me at Lympne, in Kent. Nowadays even about business transactions -there is a strong spice of adventure. I took risks. In these things -there is invariably a certain amount of give and take, and it fell to me -finally to do the giving reluctantly enough. Even when I had got out of -everything, one cantankerous creditor saw fit to be malignant. Perhaps you -have met that flaming sense of outraged virtue, or perhaps you have only -felt it. He ran me hard. It seemed to me, at last, that there was nothing -for it but to write a play, unless I wanted to drudge for my living as a -clerk. I have a certain imagination, and luxurious tastes, and I meant to -make a vigorous fight for it before that fate overtook me. In addition to -my belief in my powers as a business man, I had always in those days had -an idea that I was equal to writing a very good play. It is not, I -believe, a very uncommon persuasion. I knew there is nothing a man can do -outside legitimate business transactions that has such opulent -possibilities, and very probably that biased my opinion. I had, indeed, -got into the habit of regarding this unwritten drama as a convenient -little reserve put by for a rainy day. That rainy day had come, and I set -to work. - -I soon discovered that writing a play was a longer business than I had -supposed; at first I had reckoned ten days for it, and it was to have a -pied-a-terre while it was in hand that I came to Lympne. I reckoned myself -lucky in getting that little bungalow. I got it on a three years' -agreement. I put in a few sticks of furniture, and while the play was in -hand I did my own cooking. My cooking would have shocked Mrs. Bond. And -yet, you know, it had flavour. I had a coffee-pot, a sauce-pan for eggs, -and one for potatoes, and a frying-pan for sausages and bacon--such was -the simple apparatus of my comfort. One cannot always be magnificent, but -simplicity is always a possible alternative. For the rest I laid in an -eighteen-gallon cask of beer on credit, and a trustful baker came each -day. It was not, perhaps, in the style of Sybaris, but I have had worse -times. I was a little sorry for the baker, who was a very decent man -indeed, but even for him I hoped. - -Certainly if any one wants solitude, the place is Lympne. It is in the -clay part of Kent, and my bungalow stood on the edge of an old sea cliff -and stared across the flats of Romney Marsh at the sea. In very wet -weather the place is almost inaccessible, and I have heard that at times -the postman used to traverse the more succulent portions of his route with -boards upon his feet. I never saw him doing so, but I can quite imagine -it. Outside the doors of the few cottages and houses that make up the -present village big birch besoms are stuck, to wipe off the worst of the -clay, which will give some idea of the texture of the district. I doubt if -the place would be there at all, if it were not a fading memory of things -gone for ever. It was the big port of England in Roman times, Portus -Lemanis, and now the sea is four miles away. All down the steep hill are -boulders and masses of Roman brickwork, and from it old Watling Street, -still paved in places, starts like an arrow to the north. I used to stand -on the hill and think of it all, the galleys and legions, the captives and -officials, the women and traders, the speculators like myself, all the -swarm and tumult that came clanking in and out of the harbour. And now -just a few lumps of rubble on a grassy slope, and a sheep or two--and I. -And where the port had been were the levels of the marsh, sweeping round -in a broad curve to distant Dungeness, and dotted here and there with tree -clumps and the church towers of old medieval towns that are following -Lemanis now towards extinction. - -That outlook on the marsh was, indeed, one of the finest views I have ever -seen. I suppose Dungeness was fifteen miles away; it lay like a raft on -the sea, and farther westward were the hills by Hastings under the setting -sun. Sometimes they hung close and clear, sometimes they were faded and -low, and often the drift of the weather took them clean out of sight. And -all the nearer parts of the marsh were laced and lit by ditches and -canals. - -The window at which I worked looked over the skyline of this crest, and it -was from this window that I first set eyes on Cavor. It was just as I was -struggling with my scenario, holding down my mind to the sheer hard work -of it, and naturally enough he arrested my attention. - -The sun had set, the sky was a vivid tranquillity of green and yellow, and -against that he came out black--the oddest little figure. - -He was a short, round-bodied, thin-legged little man, with a jerky quality -in his motions; he had seen fit to clothe his extraordinary mind in a -cricket cap, an overcoat, and cycling knickerbockers and stockings. Why he -did so I do not know, for he never cycled and he never played cricket. It -was a fortuitous concurrence of garments, arising I know not how. He -gesticulated with his hands and arms, and jerked his head about and -buzzed. He buzzed like something electric. You never heard such buzzing. -And ever and again he cleared his throat with a most extraordinary noise. - -There had been rain, and that spasmodic walk of his was enhanced by the -extreme slipperiness of the footpath. Exactly as he came against the sun -he stopped, pulled out a watch, hesitated. Then with a sort of convulsive -gesture he turned and retreated with every manifestation of haste, no -longer gesticulating, but going with ample strides that showed the -relatively large size of his feet--they were, I remember, grotesquely -exaggerated in size by adhesive clay--to the best possible advantage. - -This occurred on the first day of my sojourn, when my play-writing energy -was at its height and I regarded the incident simply as an annoying -distraction--the waste of five minutes. I returned to my scenario. But -when next evening the apparition was repeated with remarkable precision, -and again the next evening, and indeed every evening when rain was not -falling, concentration upon the scenario became a considerable effort. -"Confound the man," I said, "one would think he was learning to be a -marionette!" and for several evenings I cursed him pretty heartily. Then -my annoyance gave way to amazement and curiosity. Why on earth should a -man do this thing? On the fourteenth evening I could stand it no longer, -and so soon as he appeared I opened the french window, crossed the -verandah, and directed myself to the point where he invariably stopped. - -He had his watch out as I came up to him. He had a chubby, rubicund face -with reddish brown eyes--previously I had seen him only against the -light. "One moment, sir," said I as he turned. He stared. "One moment," -he said, "certainly. Or if you wish to speak to me for longer, and it is -not asking too much--your moment is up--would it trouble you to -accompany me?" - -"Not in the least," said I, placing myself beside him. - -"My habits are regular. My time for intercourse--limited." - -"This, I presume, is your time for exercise?" - -"It is. I come here to enjoy the sunset." - -"You don't." - -"Sir?" - -"You never look at it." - -"Never look at it?" - -"No. I've watched you thirteen nights, and not once have you looked at the -sunset--not once." - -He knitted his brows like one who encounters a problem. - -"Well, I enjoy the sunlight--the atmosphere--I go along this path, -through that gate"--he jerked his head over his shoulder--"and round--" - -"You don't. You never have been. It's all nonsense. There isn't a way. -To-night for instance--" - -"Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I had -already been out just three minutes over the precise half-hour, decided -there was not time to go round, turned--" - -"You always do." - -He looked at me--reflected. "Perhaps I do, now I come to think of it. But -what was it you wanted to speak to me about?" - -"Why, this!" - -"This?" - -"Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise--" - -"Making a noise?" - -"Like this." I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me, and it was -evident the buzzing awakened distaste. "Do I do that?" he asked. - -"Every blessed evening." - -"I had no idea." - -He stopped dead. He regarded me gravely. "Can it be," he said, "that I -have formed a Habit?" - -"Well, it looks like it. Doesn't it?" - -He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a -puddle at his feet. - -"My mind is much occupied," he said. "And you want to know why! Well, sir, -I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do these things, but I -did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is just as you say; -I never _have_ been beyond that field.... And these things annoy you?" - -For some reason I was beginning to relent towards him. "Not annoy," -I said. "But--imagine yourself writing a play!" - -"I couldn't." - -"Well, anything that needs concentration." - -"Ah!" he said, "of course," and meditated. His expression became so -eloquent of distress, that I relented still more. After all, there is a -touch of aggression in demanding of a man you don't know why he hums on -a public footpath. - -"You see," he said weakly, "it's a habit." - -"Oh, I recognise that." - -"I must stop it." - -"But not if it puts you out. After all, I had no business--it's something -of a liberty." - -"Not at all, sir," he said, "not at all. I am greatly indebted to you. I -should guard myself against these things. In future I will. Could I -trouble you--once again? That noise?" - -"Something like this," I said. "Zuzzoo, zuzzoo. But really, you know--" - -"I am greatly obliged to you. In fact, I know I am getting absurdly -absent-minded. You are quite justified, sir--perfectly justified. Indeed, -I am indebted to you. The thing shall end. And now, sir, I have already -brought you farther than I should have done." - -"I do hope my impertinence--" - -"Not at all, sir, not at all." - -We regarded each other for a moment. I raised my hat and wished him a good -evening. He responded convulsively, and so we went our ways. - -At the stile I looked back at his receding figure. His bearing had changed -remarkably, he seemed limp, shrunken. The contrast with his former -gesticulating, zuzzoing self took me in some absurd way as pathetic. I -watched him out of sight. Then wishing very heartily I had kept to my own -business, I returned to my bungalow and my play. - -The next evening I saw nothing of him, nor the next. But he was very much -in my mind, and it had occurred to me that as a sentimental comic -character he might serve a useful purpose in the development of my plot. -The third day he called upon me. - -For a time I was puzzled to think what had brought him. He made -indifferent conversation in the most formal way, then abruptly he came to -business. He wanted to buy me out of my bungalow. - -"You see," he said, "I don't blame you in the least, but you've -destroyed a habit, and it disorganises my day. I've walked past here for -years--years. No doubt I've hummed.... You've made all that impossible!" - -I suggested he might try some other direction. - -"No. There is no other direction. This is the only one. I've inquired. -And now--every afternoon at four--I come to a dead wall." - -"But, my dear sir, if the thing is so important to you--" - -"It's vital. You see, I'm--I'm an investigator--I am engaged in a -scientific research. I live--" he paused and seemed to think. "Just over -there," he said, and pointed suddenly dangerously near my eye. "The house -with white chimneys you see just over the trees. And my circumstances are -abnormal--abnormal. I am on the point of completing one of the most -important--demonstrations--I can assure you one of the most important -demonstrations that have ever been made. It requires constant thought, -constant mental ease and activity. And the afternoon was my brightest -time!--effervescing with new ideas--new points of view." - -"But why not come by still?" - -"It would be all different. I should be self-conscious. I should think of -you at your play--watching me irritated--instead of thinking of my work. -No! I must have the bungalow." - -I meditated. Naturally, I wanted to think the matter over thoroughly -before anything decisive was said. I was generally ready enough for -business in those days, and selling always attracted me; but in the first -place it was not my bungalow, and even if I sold it to him at a good price -I might get inconvenienced in the delivery of goods if the current owner -got wind of the transaction, and in the second I was, well--undischarged. -It was clearly a business that required delicate handling. Moreover, -the possibility of his being in pursuit of some valuable invention also -interested me. It occurred to me that I would like to know more of this -research, not with any dishonest intention, but simply with an idea -that to know what it was would be a relief from play-writing. I threw -out feelers. - -He was quite willing to supply information. Indeed, once he was fairly -under way the conversation became a monologue. He talked like a man long -pent up, who has had it over with himself again and again. He talked for -nearly an hour, and I must confess I found it a pretty stiff bit of -listening. But through it all there was the undertone of satisfaction one -feels when one is neglecting work one has set oneself. During that first -interview I gathered very little of the drift of his work. Half his words -were technicalities entirely strange to me, and he illustrated one or two -points with what he was pleased to call elementary mathematics, computing -on an envelope with a copying-ink pencil, in a manner that made it hard -even to seem to understand. "Yes," I said, "yes. Go on!" Nevertheless I -made out enough to convince me that he was no mere crank playing at -discoveries. In spite of his crank-like appearance there was a force about -him that made that impossible. Whatever it was, it was a thing with -mechanical possibilities. He told me of a work-shed he had, and of three -assistants--originally jobbing carpenters--whom he had trained. Now, -from the work-shed to the patent office is clearly only one step. He -invited me to see those things. I accepted readily, and took care, by a -remark or so, to underline that. The proposed transfer of the bungalow -remained very conveniently in suspense. - -At last he rose to depart, with an apology for the length of his call. -Talking over his work was, he said, a pleasure enjoyed only too rarely. It -was not often he found such an intelligent listener as myself, he mingled -very little with professional scientific men. - -"So much pettiness," he explained; "so much intrigue! And really, when one -has an idea--a novel, fertilising idea--I don't want to be uncharitable, -but--" - -I am a man who believes in impulses. I made what was perhaps a rash -proposition. But you must remember, that I had been alone, play-writing in -Lympne, for fourteen days, and my compunction for his ruined walk still -hung about me. "Why not," said I, "make this your new habit? In the place -of the one I spoilt? At least, until we can settle about the bungalow. -What you want is to turn over your work in your mind. That you have always -done during your afternoon walk. Unfortunately that's over--you can't get -things back as they were. But why not come and talk about your work to me; -use me as a sort of wall against which you may throw your thoughts and -catch them again? It's certain I don't know enough to steal your ideas -myself--and I know no scientific men--" - -I stopped. He was considering. Evidently the thing, attracted him. "But -I'm afraid I should bore you," he said. - -"You think I'm too dull?" - -"Oh, no; but technicalities--" - -"Anyhow, you've interested me immensely this afternoon." - -"Of course it would be a great help to me. Nothing clears up one's ideas -so much as explaining them. Hitherto--" - -"My dear sir, say no more." - -"But really can you spare the time?" - -"There is no rest like change of occupation," I said, with profound -conviction. - -The affair was over. On my verandah steps he turned. "I am already greatly -indebted to you," he said. - -I made an interrogative noise. - -"You have completely cured me of that ridiculous habit of humming," he -explained. - -I think I said I was glad to be of any service to him, and he turned away. - -Immediately the train of thought that our conversation had suggested must -have resumed its sway. His arms began to wave in their former fashion. -The faint echo of "zuzzoo" came back to me on the breeze.... - -Well, after all, that was not my affair.... - -He came the next day, and again the next day after that, and delivered -two lectures on physics to our mutual satisfaction. He talked with an -air of being extremely lucid about the "ether" and "tubes of force," and -"gravitational potential," and things like that, and I sat in my other -folding-chair and said, "Yes," "Go on," "I follow you," to keep him -going. It was tremendously difficult stuff, but I do not think he ever -suspected how much I did not understand him. There were moments when I -doubted whether I was well employed, but at any rate I was resting from -that confounded play. Now and then things gleamed on me clearly for a -space, only to vanish just when I thought I had hold of them. Sometimes my -attention failed altogether, and I would give it up and sit and stare at -him, wondering whether, after all, it would not be better to use him as a -central figure in a good farce and let all this other stuff slide. And -then, perhaps, I would catch on again for a bit. - -At the earliest opportunity I went to see his house. It was large and -carelessly furnished; there were no servants other than his three -assistants, and his dietary and private life were characterised by a -philosophical simplicity. He was a water-drinker, a vegetarian, and all -those logical disciplinary things. But the sight of his equipment settled -many doubts. It looked like business from cellar to attic--an amazing -little place to find in an out-of-the-way village. The ground-floor rooms -contained benches and apparatus, the bakehouse and scullery boiler had -developed into respectable furnaces, dynamos occupied the cellar, and -there was a gasometer in the garden. He showed it to me with all the -confiding zest of a man who has been living too much alone. His seclusion -was overflowing now in an excess of confidence, and I had the good luck to -be the recipient. - -The three assistants were creditable specimens of the class of "handy-men" -from which they came. Conscientious if unintelligent, strong, civil, and -willing. One, Spargus, who did the cooking and all the metal work, had -been a sailor; a second, Gibbs, was a joiner; and the third was an -ex-jobbing gardener, and now general assistant. They were the merest -labourers. All the intelligent work was done by Cavor. Theirs was the -darkest ignorance compared even with my muddled impression. - -And now, as to the nature of these inquiries. Here, unhappily, comes a -grave difficulty. I am no scientific expert, and if I were to attempt to -set forth in the highly scientific language of Mr. Cavor the aim to which -his experiments tended, I am afraid I should confuse not only the reader -but myself, and almost certainly I should make some blunder that would -bring upon me the mockery of every up-to-date student of mathematical -physics in the country. The best thing I can do therefore is, I think to -give my impressions in my own inexact language, without any attempt to -wear a garment of knowledge to which I have no claim. - -The object of Mr. Cavor's search was a substance that should be -"opaque"--he used some other word I have forgotten, but "opaque" conveys -the idea--to "all forms of radiant energy." "Radiant energy," he made me -understand, was anything like light or heat, or those Rontgen Rays there -was so much talk about a year or so ago, or the electric waves of Marconi, -or gravitation. All these things, he said, _radiate_ out from centres, and -act on bodies at a distance, whence comes the term "radiant energy." Now -almost all substances are opaque to some form or other of radiant energy. -Glass, for example, is transparent to light, but much less so to heat, so -that it is useful as a fire-screen; and alum is transparent to light, but -blocks heat completely. A solution of iodine in carbon bisulphide, on the -other hand, completely blocks light, but is quite transparent to heat. It -will hide a fire from you, but permit all its warmth to reach you. Metals -are not only opaque to light and heat, but also to electrical energy, -which passes through both iodine solution and glass almost as though they -were not interposed. And so on. - -Now all known substances are "transparent" to gravitation. You can use -screens of various sorts to cut off the light or heat, or electrical -influence of the sun, or the warmth of the earth from anything; you can -screen things by sheets of metal from Marconi's rays, but nothing will cut -off the gravitational attraction of the sun or the gravitational -attraction of the earth. Yet why there should be nothing is hard to say. -Cavor did not see why such a substance should not exist, and certainly I -could not tell him. I had never thought of such a possibility before. He -showed me by calculations on paper, which Lord Kelvin, no doubt, or -Professor Lodge, or Professor Karl Pearson, or any of those great -scientific people might have understood, but which simply reduced me to a -hopeless muddle, that not only was such a substance possible, but that it -must satisfy certain conditions. It was an amazing piece of reasoning. -Much as it amazed and exercised me at the time, it would be impossible to -reproduce it here. "Yes," I said to it all, "yes; go on!" Suffice it for -this story that he believed he might be able to manufacture this possible -substance opaque to gravitation out of a complicated alloy of metals and -something new--a new element, I fancy--called, I believe, _helium_, which -was sent to him from London in sealed stone jars. Doubt has been thrown -upon this detail, but I am almost certain it was _helium_ he had sent him -in sealed stone jars. It was certainly something very gaseous and thin. -If only I had taken notes... - -But then, how was I to foresee the necessity of taking notes? - -Any one with the merest germ of an imagination will understand the -extraordinary possibilities of such a substance, and will sympathise a -little with the emotion I felt as this understanding emerged from the haze -of abstruse phrases in which Cavor expressed himself. Comic relief in a -play indeed! It was some time before I would believe that I had -interpreted him aright, and I was very careful not to ask questions that -would have enabled him to gauge the profundity of misunderstanding into -which he dropped his daily exposition. But no one reading the story of it -here will sympathise fully, because from my barren narrative it will be -impossible to gather the strength of my conviction that this astonishing -substance was positively going to be made. - -I do not recall that I gave my play an hour's consecutive work at any time -after my visit to his house. My imagination had other things to do. There -seemed no limit to the possibilities of the stuff; whichever way I tried I -came on miracles and revolutions. For example, if one wanted to lift a -weight, however enormous, one had only to get a sheet of this substance -beneath it, and one might lift it with a straw. My first natural impulse -was to apply this principle to guns and ironclads, and all the material -and methods of war, and from that to shipping, locomotion, building, every -conceivable form of human industry. The chance that had brought me into -the very birth-chamber of this new time--it was an epoch, no less--was -one of those chances that come once in a thousand years. The thing -unrolled, it expanded and expanded. Among other things I saw in it my -redemption as a business man. I saw a parent company, and daughter -companies, applications to right of us, applications to left, rings and -trusts, privileges, and concessions spreading and spreading, until one -vast, stupendous Cavorite company ran and ruled the world. - -And I was in it! - -I took my line straight away. I knew I was staking everything, but I -jumped there and then. - -"We're on absolutely the biggest thing that has ever been invented," I -said, and put the accent on "we." "If you want to keep me out of this, -you'll have to do it with a gun. I'm coming down to be your fourth -labourer to-morrow." - -He seemed surprised at my enthusiasm, but not a bit suspicious or hostile. -Rather, he was self-depreciatory. He looked at me doubtfully. "But do you -really think--?" he said. "And your play! How about that play?" - -"It's vanished!" I cried. "My dear sir, don't you see what you've got? -Don't you see what you're going to do?" - -That was merely a rhetorical turn, but positively, he didn't. At first I -could not believe it. He had not had the beginning of the inkling of an -idea. This astonishing little man had been working on purely theoretical -grounds the whole time! When he said it was "the most important" research -the world had ever seen, he simply meant it squared up so many theories, -settled so much that was in doubt; he had troubled no more about the -application of the stuff he was going to turn out than if he had been a -machine that makes guns. This was a possible substance, and he was going -to make it! V'la tout, as the Frenchman says. - -Beyond that, he was childish! If he made it, it would go down to posterity -as Cavorite or Cavorine, and he would be made an F.R.S., and his portrait -given away as a scientific worthy with Nature, and things like that. And -that was all he saw! He would have dropped this bombshell into the world -as though he had discovered a new species of gnat, if it had not happened -that I had come along. And there it would have lain and fizzled, like one -or two other little things these scientific people have lit and dropped -about us. - -When I realised this, it was I did the talking, and Cavor who said, "Go -on!" I jumped up. I paced the room, gesticulating like a boy of twenty. -I tried to make him understand his duties and responsibilities in the -matter--_our_ duties and responsibilities in the matter. I assured him we -might make wealth enough to work any sort of social revolution we fancied, -we might own and order the whole world. I told him of companies and -patents, and the case for secret processes. All these things seemed to -take him much as his mathematics had taken me. A look of perplexity came -into his ruddy little face. He stammered something about indifference to -wealth, but I brushed all that aside. He had got to be rich, and it was no -good his stammering. I gave him to understand the sort of man I was, and -that I had had very considerable business experience. I did not tell him -I was an undischarged bankrupt at the time, because that was temporary, -but I think I reconciled my evident poverty with my financial claims. And -quite insensibly, in the way such projects grow, the understanding of a -Cavorite monopoly grew up between us. He was to make the stuff, and I was -to make the boom. - -I stuck like a leech to the "we"--"you" and "I" didn't exist for me. - -His idea was that the profits I spoke of might go to endow research, but -that, of course, was a matter we had to settle later. "That's all right," -I shouted, "that's all right." The great point, as I insisted, was to get -the thing done. - -"Here is a substance," I cried, "no home, no factory, no fortress, no ship -can dare to be without--more universally applicable even than a patent -medicine. There isn't a solitary aspect of it, not one of its ten thousand -possible uses that will not make us rich, Cavor, beyond the dreams of -avarice!" - -"No!" he said. "I begin to see. It's extraordinary how one gets new points -of view by talking over things!" - -"And as it happens you have just talked to the right man!" - -"I suppose no one," he said, "is absolutely _averse_ to enormous wealth. -Of course there is one thing--" - -He paused. I stood still. - -"It is just possible, you know, that we may not be able to make it after -all! It may be one of those things that are a theoretical possibility, but -a practical absurdity. Or when we make it, there may be some little -hitch!" - -"We'll tackle the hitch when it comes." said I. - - - - - -Chapter 2 - - - - -The First Making of Cavorite - -But Cavor's fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was -concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was -made! - -Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least -expected it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other -things--I wish I knew the particulars now!--and he intended to leave -the mixture a week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had -miscalculated, the last stage in the combination would occur when the -stuff sank to a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But it chanced -that, unknown to Cavor, dissension had arisen about the furnace tending. -Gibbs, who had previously seen to this, had suddenly attempted to shift -it to the man who had been a gardener, on the score that coal was soil, -being dug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the province of -a joiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, however, that -coal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that he was cook. -But Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was a -joiner and that coal is notoriously fossil wood. Consequently Gibbs -ceased to replenish the furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor was -too much immersed in certain interesting problems concerning a Cavorite -flying machine (neglecting the resistance of the air and one or two -other points) to perceive that anything was wrong. And the premature -birth of his invention took place just as he was coming across the field -to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea. - -I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, and -everything was prepared, and the sound of his "zuzzoo" had brought me out -upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against the autumnal -sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just rose above a -gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden Hills, faint -and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out spacious and serene. -And then-- - -The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as they -rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then overtaking -them came a huge white flame. The trees about the building swayed and -whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towards the flare. My -ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left me deaf on one side for -life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded. - -I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor's house, and even as I -did so came the wind. - -Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in great -leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the same -moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through the -screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six -yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great strides towards -the focus of the disturbance. Cavor, kicking and flapping, came down -again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggled up and -was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishing at last -among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his house. - -A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance rushed -up towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing past me, -dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the worst was -over. The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere strong gale, -and I became once more aware that I had breath and feet. By leaning back -against the wind I managed to stop, and could collect such wits as still -remained to me. - -In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil -sunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything -was flattened and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my -bungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwards -towards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whose tall -and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house. - -I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to -them, and for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of smashed -branches and fencing that had banked itself against a portion of his -garden wall I perceived something stir. I made a run for this, but before -I reached it a brown object separated itself, rose on two muddy legs, and -protruded two drooping, bleeding hands. Some tattered ends of garment -fluttered out from its middle portion and streamed before the wind. - -For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that it -was Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward -against the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth. - -He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His -face worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He -looked as damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, and -his remark therefore amazed me exceedingly. - -"Gratulate me," he gasped; "gratulate me!" - -"Congratulate you!" said I. "Good heavens! What for?" - -"I've done it." - -"You _have_. What on earth caused that explosion?" - -A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it wasn't -an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, and we -stood clinging to one another. - -"Try and get back--to my bungalow," I bawled in his ear. He did not hear -me, and shouted something about "three martyrs--science," and also -something about "not much good." At the time he laboured under the -impression that his three attendants had perished in the whirlwind. -Happily this was incorrect. Directly he had left for my bungalow they had -gone off to the public-house in Lympne to discuss the question of the -furnaces over some trivial refreshment. - -I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time he -understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to reach -the shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat in -arm-chairs and panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter -articles of furniture were in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage -was done. Happily the kitchen door had stood the pressure upon it, so that -all my crockery and cooking materials had survived. The oil stove was -still burning, and I put on the water to boil again for tea. And that -prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation. - -"Quite correct," he insisted; "quite correct. I've done it, and it's all -right." - -"But," I protested. "All right! Why, there can't be a rick standing, or a -fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles round...." - -"It's all right--_really_. I didn't, of course, foresee this little upset. -My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and I'm apt to disregard -these practical side issues. But it's all right--" - -"My dear sir," I cried, "don't you see you've done thousands of pounds' -worth of damage?" - -"There, I throw myself on your discretion. I'm not a practical man, of -course, but don't you think they will regard it as a cyclone?" - -"But the explosion--" - -"It was not an explosion. It's perfectly simple. Only, as I say, I'm apt -to overlook these little things. It's that zuzzoo business on a larger -scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this Cavorite, in a -thin, wide sheet...." - -He paused. "You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to gravitation, -that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each other?" - -"Yes," said I. "Yes." - -"Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, -and the process of its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the -portions of roof and ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. -I suppose you know--everybody knows nowadays--that, as a usual thing, -the air _has_ weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the -earth, presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a half -pounds to the square inch?" - -"I know that," said I. "Go on." - -"I know that too," he remarked. "Only this shows you how useless -knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this ceased -to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and the air -round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of fourteen -pounds and a half to the square in upon this suddenly weightless air. Ah! -you begin to see! The air all about the Cavorite crushed in upon the air -above it with irresistible force. The air above the Cavorite was forced -upward violently, the air that rushed in to replace it immediately lost -weight, ceased to exert any pressure, followed suit, blew the ceiling -through and the roof off.... - -"You perceive," he said, "it formed a sort of atmospheric fountain, a kind -of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself hadn't been loose -and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you what would have -happened?" - -I thought. "I suppose," I said, "the air would be rushing up and up over -that infernal piece of stuff now." - -"Precisely," he said. "A huge fountain--" - -"Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the -atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It -would have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff!" - -"Not exactly into space," said Cavor, "but as bad--practically. It would -have whipped the air off the world as one peels a banana, and flung it -thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of course--but on -an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little better than if it -never came back!" - -I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations had -been upset. "What do you mean to do now?" I asked. - -"In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some of -this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself of your -domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will converse more -at leisure. It will be wise, I think"--he laid a muddy hand on my arm--"if -nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I know I have caused -great damage--probably even dwelling-houses may be ruined here and there -upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I cannot possibly pay for -the damage I have done, and if the real cause of this is published, it -will lead only to heartburning and the obstruction of my work. One cannot -foresee everything, you know, and I cannot consent for one moment to -add the burthen of practical considerations to my theorising. Later -on, when you have come in with your practical mind, and Cavorite is -floated--floated is the word, isn't it?--and it has realised all you -anticipate for it, we may set matters right with these persons. But not -now--not now. If no other explanation is offered, people, in the present -unsatisfactory state of meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a -cyclone; there might be a public subscription, and as my house has -collapsed and been burnt, I should in that case receive a considerable -share in the compensation, which would be extremely helpful to the -prosecution of our researches. But if it is known that _I_ caused this, -there will be no public subscription, and everybody will be put out. -Practically I should never get a chance of working in peace again. My -three assistants may or may not have perished. That is a detail. If they -have, it is no great loss; they were more zealous than able, and this -premature event must be largely due to their joint neglect of the furnace. -If they have not perished, I doubt if they have the intelligence to -explain the affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And if during the -temporary unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one of the -untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours--" - -He paused and regarded me. - -A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to -entertain. - -"Perhaps," said I, rising to my feet, "we had better begin by looking for -a trowel," and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the greenhouse. - -And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question alone. -It was clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor's society I had not -foreseen. The absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating the -terrestrial globe, might at any moment result in some other grave -inconvenience. On the other hand I was young, my affairs were in a mess, -and I was in just the mood for reckless adventure--with a chance of -something good at the end of it. I had quite settled in my mind that I was -to have half at least in that aspect of the affair. Fortunately I held my -bungalow, as I have already explained, on a three-year agreement, without -being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, such as there was of it, -had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, insured, and altogether devoid -of associations. In the end I decided to keep on with him, and see the -business through. - -Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer -doubted at all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began to -have doubts about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to work at -once to reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our experiments. Cavor -talked more on my level than he had ever done before, when it came to the -question of how we should make the stuff next. - -"Of course we must make it again," he said, with a sort of glee I had not -expected in him, "of course we must make it again. We have caught a -Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good and -all. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, we -will. But--there must be risks! There must be. In experimental work there -always are. And here, as a practical man, _you_ must come in. For my own -part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very thin. Yet -I don't know. I have a certain dim perception of another method. I can -hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into my mind, while I -was rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, and very doubtful -how the whole adventure was to end, as being absolutely the thing I -ought to have done." - -Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept at -work restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it became -absolutely necessary to decide upon the precise form and method of our -second attempt. Our only hitch was the strike of the three labourers, who -objected to my activity as a foreman. But that matter we compromised after -two days' delay. - - - - - -Chapter 3 - - - - -The Building of the sphere - -I remember the occasion very distinctly when Cavor told me of his idea of -the sphere. He had had intimations of it before, but at the time it seemed -to come to him in a rush. We were returning to the bungalow for tea, and -on the way he fell humming. Suddenly he shouted, "That's it! That -finishes it! A sort of roller blind!" - -"Finishes what?" I asked. - -"Space--anywhere! The moon." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Mean? Why--it must be a sphere! That's what I mean!" - -I saw I was out of it, and for a time I let him talk in his own fashion. I -hadn't the ghost of an idea then of his drift. But after he had taken tea -he made it clear to me. - -"It's like this," he said. "Last time I ran this stuff that cuts things -off from gravitation into a flat tank with an overlap that held it down. -And directly it had cooled and the manufacture was completed all that -uproar happened, nothing above it weighed anything, the air went squirting -up, the house squirted up, and if the stuff itself hadn't squirted up too, -I don't know what would have happened! But suppose the substance is loose, -and quite free to go up?" - -"It will go up at once!" - -"Exactly. With no more disturbance than firing a big gun." - -"But what good will that do?" - -"I'm going up with it!" - -I put down my teacup and stared at him. - -"Imagine a sphere," he explained, "large enough to hold two people and -their luggage. It will be made of steel lined with thick glass; it will -contain a proper store of solidified air, concentrated food, water -distilling apparatus, and so forth. And enamelled, as it were, on the -outer steel--" - -"Cavorite?" - -"Yes." - -"But how will you get inside?" - -"There was a similar problem about a dumpling." - -"Yes, I know. But how?" - -"That's perfectly easy. An air-tight manhole is all that is needed. That, -of course, will have to be a little complicated; there will have to be a -valve, so that things may be thrown out, if necessary, without much loss -of air." - -"Like Jules Verne's thing in _A Trip to the Moon_." - -But Cavor was not a reader of fiction. - -"I begin to see," I said slowly. "And you could get in and screw yourself -up while the Cavorite was warm, and as soon as it cooled it would become -impervious to gravitation, and off you would fly--" - -"At a tangent." - -"You would go off in a straight line--" I stopped abruptly. "What is to -prevent the thing travelling in a straight line into space for ever?" I -asked. "You're not safe to get anywhere, and if you do--how will you get -back?" - -"I've just thought of that," said Cavor. "That's what I meant when I said -the thing is finished. The inner glass sphere can be air-tight, and, -except for the manhole, continuous, and the steel sphere can be made in -sections, each section capable of rolling up after the fashion of a roller -blind. These can easily be worked by springs, and released and checked by -electricity conveyed by platinum wires fused through the glass. All that -is merely a question of detail. So you see, that except for the thickness -of the blind rollers, the Cavorite exterior of the sphere will consist of -windows or blinds, whichever you like to call them. Well, when all these -windows or blinds are shut, no light, no heat, no gravitation, no radiant -energy of any sort will get at the inside of the sphere, it will fly on -through space in a straight line, as you say. But open a window, imagine -one of the windows open. Then at once any heavy body that chances to be in -that direction will attract us--" - -I sat taking it in. - -"You see?" he said. - -"Oh, I _see_." - -"Practically we shall be able to tack about in space just as we wish. Get -attracted by this and that." - -"Oh, yes. That's clear enough. Only--" - -"Well?" - -"I don't quite see what we shall do it for! It's really only jumping off -the world and back again." - -"Surely! For example, one might go to the moon." - -"And when one got there? What would you find?" - -"We should see--Oh! consider the new knowledge." - -"Is there air there?" - -"There may be." - -"It's a fine idea," I said, "but it strikes me as a large order all the -same. The moon! I'd much rather try some smaller things first." - -"They're out of the question, because of the air difficulty." - -"Why not apply that idea of spring blinds--Cavorite blinds in strong -steel cases--to lifting weights?" - -"It wouldn't work," he insisted. "After all, to go into outer space is not -so much worse, if at all, than a polar expedition. Men go on polar -expeditions." - -"Not business men. And besides, they get paid for polar expeditions. And -if anything goes wrong there are relief parties. But this--it's just -firing ourselves off the world for nothing." - -"Call it prospecting." - -"You'll have to call it that.... One might make a book of it perhaps," I -said. - -"I have no doubt there will be minerals," said Cavor. - -"For example?" - -"Oh! sulphur, ores, gold perhaps, possibly new elements." - -"Cost of carriage," I said. "You know you're not a practical man. The -moon's a quarter of a million miles away." - -"It seems to me it wouldn't cost much to cart any weight anywhere if you -packed it in a Cavorite case." - -I had not thought of that. "Delivered free on head of purchaser, eh?" - -"It isn't as though we were confined to the moon." - -"You mean?" - -"There's Mars--clear atmosphere, novel surroundings, exhilarating sense -of lightness. It might be pleasant to go there." - -"Is there air on Mars?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"Seems as though you might run it as a sanatorium. By the way, how -far is Mars?" - -"Two hundred million miles at present," said Cavor airily; "and you go -close by the sun." - -My imagination was picking itself up again. "After all," I said, -"there's something in these things. There's travel--" - -An extraordinary possibility came rushing into my mind. Suddenly I saw, -as in a vision, the whole solar system threaded with Cavorite liners -and spheres deluxe. "Rights of pre-emption," came floating into my -head--planetary rights of pre-emption. I recalled the old Spanish -monopoly in American gold. It wasn't as though it was just this planet -or that--it was all of them. I stared at Cavor's rubicund face, and -suddenly my imagination was leaping and dancing. I stood up, I walked -up and down; my tongue was unloosened. - -"I'm beginning to take it in," I said; "I'm beginning to take it in." The -transition from doubt to enthusiasm seemed to take scarcely any time at -all. "But this is tremendous!" I cried. "This is Imperial! I haven't -been dreaming of this sort of thing." - -Once the chill of my opposition was removed, his own pent-up excitement -had play. He too got up and paced. He too gesticulated and shouted. We -behaved like men inspired. We _were_ men inspired. - -"We'll settle all that!" he said in answer to some incidental difficulty -that had pulled me up. "We'll soon settle that! We'll start the drawings -for mouldings this very night." - -"We'll start them now," I responded, and we hurried off to the laboratory -to begin upon this work forthwith. - -I was like a child in Wonderland all that night. The dawn found us both -still at work--we kept our electric light going heedless of the day. I -remember now exactly how these drawings looked. I shaded and tinted while -Cavor drew--smudged and haste-marked they were in every line, but -wonderfully correct. We got out the orders for the steel blinds and frames -we needed from that night's work, and the glass sphere was designed within -a week. We gave up our afternoon conversations and our old routine -altogether. We worked, and we slept and ate when we could work no longer -for hunger and fatigue. Our enthusiasm infected even our three men, though -they had no idea what the sphere was for. Through those days the man Gibbs -gave up walking, and went everywhere, even across the room, at a sort of -fussy run. - -And it grew--the sphere. December passed, January--I spent a day -with a broom sweeping a path through the snow from bungalow to -laboratory--February, March. By the end of March the completion was in -sight. In January had come a team of horses, a huge packing-case; we -had our thick glass sphere now ready, and in position under the crane -we had rigged to sling it into the steel shell. All the bars and blinds -of the steel shell--it was not really a spherical shell, but polyhedral, -with a roller blind to each facet--had arrived by February, and the -lower half was bolted together. The Cavorite was half made by March, the -metallic paste had gone through two of the stages in its manufacture, -and we had plastered quite half of it on to the steel bars and blinds. -It was astonishing how closely we kept to the lines of Cavor's first -inspiration in working out the scheme. When the bolting together of -the sphere was finished, he proposed to remove the rough roof of the -temporary laboratory in which the work was done, and build a furnace -about it. So the last stage of Cavorite making, in which the paste is -heated to a dull red glow in a stream of helium, would be accomplished -when it was already on the sphere. - -And then we had to discuss and decide what provisions we were to -take--compressed foods, concentrated essences, steel cylinders containing -reserve oxygen, an arrangement for removing carbonic acid and waste from -the air and restoring oxygen by means of sodium peroxide, water -condensers, and so forth. I remember the little heap they made in the -corner--tins, and rolls, and boxes--convincingly matter-of-fact. - -It was a strenuous time, with little chance of thinking. But one day, -when we were drawing near the end, an odd mood came over me. I had been -bricking up the furnace all the morning, and I sat down by these -possessions dead beat. Everything seemed dull and incredible. - -"But look here, Cavor," I said. "After all! What's it all for?" - -He smiled. "The thing now is to go." - -"The moon," I reflected. "But what do you expect? I thought the moon was -a dead world." - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"We're going to see." - -"Are we?" I said, and stared before me. - -"You are tired," he remarked. "You'd better take a walk this afternoon." - -"No," I said obstinately; "I'm going to finish this brickwork." - -And I did, and insured myself a night of insomnia. I don't think I have -ever had such a night. I had some bad times before my business collapse, -but the very worst of those was sweet slumber compared to this infinity of -aching wakefulness. I was suddenly in the most enormous funk at the thing -we were going to do. - -I do not remember before that night thinking at all of the risks we were -running. Now they came like that array of spectres that once beleaguered -Prague, and camped around me. The strangeness of what we were about to do, -the unearthliness of it, overwhelmed me. I was like a man awakened out of -pleasant dreams to the most horrible surroundings. I lay, eyes wide open, -and the sphere seemed to get more flimsy and feeble, and Cavor more unreal -and fantastic, and the whole enterprise madder and madder every moment. - -I got out of bed and wandered about. I sat at the window and stared at -the immensity of space. Between the stars was the void, the unfathomable -darkness! I tried to recall the fragmentary knowledge of astronomy I had -gained in my irregular reading, but it was all too vague to furnish any -idea of the things we might expect. At last I got back to bed and snatched -some moments of sleep--moments of nightmare rather--in which I fell and -fell and fell for evermore into the abyss of the sky. - -I astonished Cavor at breakfast. I told him shortly, "I'm not coming with -you in the sphere." - -I met all his protests with a sullen persistence. "The thing's too mad," -I said, "and I won't come. The thing's too mad." - -I would not go with him to the laboratory. I fretted about my bungalow for -a time, and then took hat and stick and set out alone, I knew not whither. -It chanced to be a glorious morning: a warm wind and deep blue sky, the -first green of spring abroad, and multitudes of birds singing. I lunched -on beef and beer in a little public-house near Elham, and startled the -landlord by remarking apropos of the weather, "A man who leaves the world -when days of this sort are about is a fool!" - -"That's what I says when I heerd on it!" said the landlord, and I found -that for one poor soul at least this world had proved excessive, and there -had been a throat-cutting. I went on with a new twist to my thoughts. - -In the afternoon I had a pleasant sleep in a sunny place, and went on my -way refreshed. I came to a comfortable-looking inn near Canterbury. It -was bright with creepers, and the landlady was a clean old woman and took -my eye. I found I had just enough money to pay for my lodging with her. I -decided to stop the night there. She was a talkative body, and among many -other particulars learnt she had never been to London. "Canterbury's as -far as ever I been," she said. "I'm not one of your gad-about sort." - -"How would you like a trip to the moon?" I cried. - -"I never did hold with them ballooneys," she said evidently under the -impression that this was a common excursion enough. "I wouldn't go up in -one--not for ever so." - -This struck me as being funny. After I had supped I sat on a bench by the -door of the inn and gossiped with two labourers about brickmaking, and -motor cars, and the cricket of last year. And in the sky a faint new -crescent, blue and vague as a distant Alp, sank westward over the sun. - -The next day I returned to Cavor. "I am coming," I said. "I've been a -little out of order, that's all." - -That was the only time I felt any serious doubt our enterprise. Nerves -purely! After that I worked a little more carefully, and took a trudge for -an hour every day. And at last, save for the heating in the furnace, our -labours were at an end. - - - - - -Chapter 4 - - - - -Inside the Sphere - -"Go on," said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and looked -down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. It was -evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was upon -everything. - -I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom of -the sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other impedimenta -from Cavor. The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at eighty, and as -we should lose little or none of this by radiation, we were dressed in -shoes and thin flannels. We had, however, a bundle of thick woollen -clothing and several thick blankets to guard against mischance. - -By Cavor's direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, and -so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He walked -about the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had overlooked, and -then crawled in after me. I noted something in his hand. - -"What have you got there?" I asked. - -"Haven't you brought anything to read?" - -"Good Lord! No." - -"I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties-- The voyage may last-- -We may be weeks!" - -"But--" - -"We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no occupation." - -"I wish I'd known--" - -He peered out of the manhole. "Look!" he said. "There's something -there!" - -"Is there time?" - -"We shall be an hour." - -I looked out. It was an old number of _Tit-Bits_ that one of the men must -have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn _Lloyd's News_. I -scrambled back into the sphere with these things. "What have you got?" I -said. - -I took the book from his hand and read, "The Works of William -Shakespeare". - -He coloured slightly. "My education has been so purely scientific--" -he said apologetically. - -"Never read him?" - -"Never." - -"He knew a little, you know--in an irregular sort of way." - -"Precisely what I am told," said Cavor. - -I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he -pressed a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The -little oblong of twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time -neither of us spoke. Although our case would not be impervious to sound, -everything was very still. I perceived there was nothing to grip when the -shock of our start should come, and I realised that I should be -uncomfortable for want of a chair. - -"Why have we no chairs?" I asked. - -"I've settled all that," said Cavor. "We won't need them." - -"Why not?" - -"You will see," he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to talk. - -I became silent. Suddenly it had come to me clear and vivid that I was a -fool to be inside that sphere. Even now, I asked myself, is to too late to -withdraw? The world outside the sphere, I knew, would be cold and -inhospitable enough for me--for weeks I had been living on subsidies from -Cavor--but after all, would it be as cold as the infinite zero, as -inhospitable as empty space? If it had not been for the appearance of -cowardice, I believe that even then I should have made him let me out. But -I hesitated on that score, and hesitated, and grew fretful and angry, and -the time passed. - -There came a little jerk, a noise like champagne being uncorked in another -room, and a faint whistling sound. For just one instant I had a sense of -enormous tension, a transient conviction that my feet were pressing -downward with a force of countless tons. It lasted for an infinitesimal -time. - -But it stirred me to action. "Cavor!" I said into the darkness, "my -nerve's in rags. I don't think--" - -I stopped. He made no answer. - -"Confound it!" I cried; "I'm a fool! What business have I here? I'm not -coming, Cavor. The thing's too risky. I'm getting out." - -"You can't," he said. - -"Can't! We'll soon see about that!" - -He made no answer for ten seconds. "It's too late for us to quarrel now, -Bedford," he said. "That little jerk was the start. Already we are flying -as swiftly as a bullet up into the gulf of space." - -"I--" I said, and then it didn't seem to matter what happened. For a time -I was, as it were, stunned; I had nothing to say. It was just as if I had -never heard of this idea of leaving the world before. Then I perceived an -unaccountable change in my bodily sensations. It was a feeling of -lightness, of unreality. Coupled with that was a queer sensation in the -head, an apoplectic effect almost, and a thumping of blood vessels at the -ears. Neither of these feelings diminished as time went on, but at last I -got so used to them that I experienced no inconvenience. - -I heard a click, and a little glow lamp came into being. - -I saw Cavor's face, as white as I felt my own to be. We regarded one -another in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him made -him seem as though he floated in a void. - -"Well, we're committed," I said at last. - -"Yes," he said, "we're committed." - -"Don't move," he exclaimed, at some suggestion of a gesture. "Let your -muscles keep quite lax--as if you were in bed. We are in a little -universe of our own. Look at those things!" - -He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the -blankets in the bottom of the sphere. I was astonished to see that they -were floating now nearly a foot from the spherical wall. Then I saw from -his shadow that Cavor was no longer leaning against the glass. I thrust -out my hand behind me, and found that I too was suspended in space, clear -of the glass. - -I did not cry out nor gesticulate, but fear came upon me. It was like -being held and lifted by something--you know not what. The mere touch of -my hand against the glass moved me rapidly. I understood what had -happened, but that did not prevent my being afraid. We were cut off from -all exterior gravitation, only the attraction of objects within our sphere -had effect. Consequently everything that was not fixed to the glass was -falling--slowly because of the slightness of our masses--towards the -centre of gravity of our little world, which seemed to be somewhere about -the middle of the sphere, but rather nearer to myself than Cavor, on -account of my greater weight. - -"We must turn round," said Cavor, "and float back to back, with the things -between us." - -It was the strangest sensation conceivable, floating thus loosely in -space, at first indeed horribly strange, and when the horror passed, not -disagreeable at all, exceeding restful; indeed, the nearest thing in -earthly experience to it that I know is lying on a very thick, soft -feather bed. But the quality of utter detachment and independence! I had -not reckoned on things like this. I had expected a violent jerk at -starting, a giddy sense of speed. Instead I felt--as if I were -disembodied. It was not like the beginning of a journey; it was like the -beginning of a dream. - - - - - -Chapter 5 - - - - -The Journey to the Moon - -Presently Cavor extinguished the light. He said we had not overmuch -energy stored, and that what we had we must economise for reading. For a -time, whether it was long or short I do not know, there was nothing but -blank darkness. - -A question floated up out of the void. "How are we pointing?" I said. -"What is our direction?" - -"We are flying away from the earth at a tangent, and as the moon is -near her third quarter we are going somewhere towards her. I will open -a blind--" - -Came a click, and then a window in the outer case yawned open. The sky -outside was as black as the darkness within the sphere, but the shape of -the open window was marked by an infinite number of stars. - -Those who have only seen the starry sky from the earth cannot imagine its -appearance when the vague, half luminous veil of our air has been -withdrawn. The stars we see on earth are the mere scattered survivors that -penetrate our misty atmosphere. But now at last I could realise the -meaning of the hosts of heaven! - -Stranger things we were presently to see, but that airless, star-dusted -sky! Of all things, I think that will be one of the last I shall forget. - -The little window vanished with a click, another beside it snapped open -and instantly closed, and then a third, and for a moment I had to close my -eyes because of the blinding splendour of the waning moon. - -For a space I had to stare at Cavor and the white-lit things about me to -season my eyes to light again, before I could turn them towards that -pallid glare. - -Four windows were open in order that the gravitation of the moon might act -upon all the substances in our sphere. I found I was no longer floating -freely in space, but that my feet were resting on the glass in the -direction of the moon. The blankets and cases of provisions were also -creeping slowly down the glass, and presently came to rest so as to block -out a portion of the view. It seemed to me, of course, that I looked -"down" when I looked at the moon. On earth "down" means earthward, the way -things fall, and "up" the reverse direction. Now the pull of gravitation -was towards the moon, and for all I knew to the contrary our earth was -overhead. And, of course, when all the Cavorite blinds were closed, "down" -was towards the centre of our sphere, and "up" towards its outer wall. - -It was curiously unlike earthly experience, too, to have the light coming -up to one. On earth light falls from above, or comes slanting down -sideways, but here it came from beneath our feet, and to see our shadows -we had to look up. - -At first it gave me a sort of vertigo to stand only on thick glass and -look down upon the moon through hundreds of thousands of miles of vacant -space; but this sickness passed very speedily. And then--the splendour of -the sight! - -The reader may imagine it best if he will lie on the ground some warm -summer's night and look between his upraised feet at the moon, but for -some reason, probably because the absence of air made it so much more -luminous, the moon seemed already considerably larger than it does from -earth. The minutest details of its surface were acutely clear. And since -we did not see it through air, its outline was bright and sharp, there was -no glow or halo about it, and the star-dust that covered the sky came -right to its very margin, and marked the outline of its unilluminated -part. And as I stood and stared at the moon between my feet, that -perception of the impossible that had been with me off and on ever since -our start, returned again with tenfold conviction. - -"Cavor," I said, "this takes me queerly. Those companies we were going to -run, and all that about minerals?" - -"Well?" - -"I don't see 'em here." - -"No," said Cavor; "but you'll get over all that." - -"I suppose I'm made to turn right side up again. Still, _this_-- -For a moment I could half believe there never was a world." - -"That copy of _Lloyd's News_ might help you." - -I stared at the paper for a moment, then held it above the level of my -face, and found I could read it quite easily. I struck a column of mean -little advertisements. "A gentleman of private means is willing to lend -money," I read. I knew that gentleman. Then somebody eccentric wanted to -sell a Cutaway bicycle, "quite new and cost 15 pounds," for five pounds; -and a lady in distress wished to dispose of some fish knives and forks, "a -wedding present," at a great sacrifice. No doubt some simple soul was -sagely examining these knives and forks, and another triumphantly riding -off on that bicycle, and a third trustfully consulting that benevolent -gentleman of means even as I read. I laughed, and let the paper drift from -my hand. - -"Are we visible from the earth?" I asked. - -"Why?" - -"I knew some one who was rather interested in astronomy. It occurred to me -that it would be rather odd if--my friend--chanced to be looking through -some telescope." - -"It would need the most powerful telescope on earth even now to see us as -the minutest speck." - -For a time I stared in silence at the moon. - -"It's a world," I said; "one feels that infinitely more than one ever did -on earth. People perhaps--" - -"People!" he exclaimed. "No! Banish all that! Think yourself a sort of -ultra-arctic voyager exploring the desolate places of space. Look at it!" - -He waved his hand at the shining whiteness below. "It's dead--dead! Vast -extinct volcanoes, lava wildernesses, tumbled wastes of snow, or frozen -carbonic acid, or frozen air, and everywhere landslip seams and cracks and -gulfs. Nothing happens. Men have watched this planet systematically with -telescopes for over two hundred years. How much change do you think they -have seen?" - -"None." - -"They have traced two indisputable landslips, a doubtful crack, and one -slight periodic change of colour, and that's all." - -"I didn't know they'd traced even that." - -"Oh, yes. But as for people--!" - -"By the way," I asked, "how small a thing will the biggest telescopes show -upon the moon?" - -"One could see a fair-sized church. One could certainly see any towns or -buildings, or anything like the handiwork of men. There might perhaps be -insects, something in the way of ants, for example, so that they could -hide in deep burrows from the lunar light, or some new sort of creatures -having no earthly parallel. That is the most probable thing, if we are to -find life there at all. Think of the difference in conditions! Life must -fit itself to a day as long as fourteen earthly days, a cloudless -sun-blaze of fourteen days, and then a night of equal length, growing -ever colder and colder under these cold, sharp stars. In that night -there must be cold, the ultimate cold, absolute zero, 273 degrees -Centigrade, below the earthly freezing point. Whatever life there is -must hibernate through that, and rise again each day." - -He mused. "One can imagine something worm-like," he said, "taking its -air solid as an earth-worm swallows earth, or thick-skinned monsters--" - -"By the bye," I said, "why didn't we bring a gun?" - -He did not answer that question. "No," he concluded, "we just have to go. -We shall see when we get there." - -I remembered something. "Of course, there's my minerals, anyhow," I said; -"whatever the conditions may be." - -Presently he told me he wished to alter our course a little by letting the -earth tug at us for a moment. He was going to open one earthward blind -for thirty seconds. He warned me that it would make my head swim, and -advised me to extend my hands against the glass to break my fall. I did as -he directed, and thrust my feet against the bales of food cases and air -cylinders to prevent their falling upon me. Then with a click the window -flew open. I fell clumsily upon hands and face, and saw for a moment -between my black extended fingers our mother earth--a planet in a -downward sky. - -We were still very near--Cavor told me the distance was perhaps eight -hundred miles and the huge terrestrial disc filled all heaven. But already -it was plain to see that the world was a globe. The land below us was in -twilight and vague, but westward the vast gray stretches of the Atlantic -shone like molten silver under the receding day. I think I recognised the -cloud-dimmed coast-lines of France and Spain and the south of England, and -then, with a click, the shutter closed again, and I found myself in a -state of extraordinary confusion sliding slowly over the smooth glass. - -When at last things settled themselves in my mind again, it seemed quite -beyond question that the moon was "down" and under my feet, and that the -earth was somewhere away on the level of the horizon--the earth that had -been "down" to me and my kindred since the beginning of things. - -So slight were the exertions required of us, so easy did the practical -annihilation of our weight make all we had to do, that the necessity for -taking refreshment did not occur to us for nearly six hours (by Cavor's -chronometer) after our start. I was amazed at that lapse of time. Even -then I was satisfied with very little. Cavor examined the apparatus for -absorbing carbonic acid and water, and pronounced it to be in satisfactory -order, our consumption of oxygen having been extraordinarily slight. And -our talk being exhausted for the time, and there being nothing further -for us to do, we gave way to a curious drowsiness that had come upon us, -and spreading our blankets on the bottom of the sphere in such a manner as -to shut out most of the moonlight, wished each other good-night, and -almost immediately fell asleep. - -And so, sleeping, and sometimes talking and reading a little, and at times -eating, although without any keenness of appetite,[*] but for the most part -in a sort of quiescence that was neither waking nor slumber, we fell -through a space of time that had neither night nor day in it, silently, -softly, and swiftly down towards the moon. - -[* Footnote: It is a curious thing, that while we were in the sphere we -felt not the slightest desire for food, nor did we feel the want of it when -we abstained. At first we forced our appetites, but afterwards we fasted -completely. Altogether we did not consume one-hundredth part of the -compressed provisions we had brought with us. The amount of carbonic acid -we breathed was also unnaturally low, but why this was, I am quite unable -to explain.] - - - - - -Chapter 6 - - - - -The Landing on the Moon - -I remember how one day Cavor suddenly opened six of our shutters and -blinded me so that I cried aloud at him. The whole area was moon, a -stupendous scimitar of white dawn with its edge hacked out by notches of -darkness, the crescent shore of an ebbing tide of darkness, out of which -peaks and pinnacles came glittering into the blaze of the sun. I take it -the reader has seen pictures or photographs of the moon and that I need -not describe the broader features of that landscape, those spacious -ring-like ranges vaster than any terrestrial mountains, their summits -shining in the day, their shadows harsh and deep, the gray disordered -plains, the ridges, hills, and craterlets, all passing at last from a -blazing illumination into a common mystery of black. Athwart this world -we were flying scarcely a hundred miles above its crests and pinnacles. -And now we could see, what no eye on earth will ever see, that under the -blaze of the day the harsh outlines of the rocks and ravines of the -plains and crater floor grew gray and indistinct under a thickening -haze, that the white of their lit surfaces broke into lumps and patches, -and broke again and shrank and vanished, and that here and there strange -tints of brown and olive grew and spread. - -But little time we had for watching then. For now we had come to the real -danger of our journey. We had to drop ever closer to the moon as we spun -about it, to slacken our pace and watch our chance, until at last we could -dare to drop upon its surface. - -For Cavor that was a time of intense exertion; for me it was an anxious -inactivity. I seemed perpetually to be getting out of his way. He leapt -about the sphere from point to point with an agility that would have been -impossible on earth. He was perpetually opening and closing the Cavorite -windows, making calculations, consulting his chronometer by means of the -glow lamp during those last eventful hours. For a long time we had all our -windows closed and hung silently in darkness hurling through space. - -Then he was feeling for the shutter studs, and suddenly four windows were -open. I staggered and covered my eyes, drenched and scorched and blinded -by the unaccustomed splendour of the sun beneath my feet. Then again the -shutters snapped, leaving my brain spinning in a darkness that pressed -against the eyes. And after that I floated in another vast, black silence. - -Then Cavor switched on the electric light, and told me he proposed to bind -all our luggage together with the blankets about it, against the -concussion of our descent. We did this with our windows closed, because in -that way our goods arranged themselves naturally at the centre of the -sphere. That too was a strange business; we two men floating loose in that -spherical space, and packing and pulling ropes. Imagine it if you can! No -up nor down, and every effort resulting in unexpected movements. Now I -would be pressed against the glass with the full force of Cavor's thrust, -now I would be kicking helplessly in a void. Now the star of the electric -light would be overhead, now under foot. Now Cavor's feet would float up -before my eyes, and now we would be crossways to each other. But at last -our goods were safely bound together in a big soft bale, all except two -blankets with head holes that we were to wrap about ourselves. - -Then for a flash Cavor opened a window moonward, and we saw that we were -dropping towards a huge central crater with a number of minor craters -grouped in a sort of cross about it. And then again Cavor flung our little -sphere open to the scorching, blinding sun. I think he was using the -sun's attraction as a brake. "Cover yourself with a blanket," he cried, -thrusting himself from me, and for a moment I did not understand. - -Then I hauled the blanket from beneath my feet and got it about me and -over my head and eyes. Abruptly he closed the shutters again, snapped one -open again and closed it, then suddenly began snapping them all open, each -safely into its steel roller. There came a jar, and then we were rolling -over and over, bumping against the glass and against the big bale of our -luggage, and clutching at each other, and outside some white substance -splashed as if we were rolling down a slope of snow.... - -Over, clutch, bump, clutch, bump, over.... - -Came a thud, and I was half buried under the bale of our possessions, and -for a space everything was still. Then I could hear Cavor puffing and -grunting, and the snapping of a shutter in its sash. I made an effort, -thrust back our blanket-wrapped luggage, and emerged from beneath it. Our -open windows were just visible as a deeper black set with stars. - -We were still alive, and we were lying in the darkness of the shadow of -the wall of the great crater into which we had fallen. - -We sat getting our breath again, and feeling the bruises on our limbs. I -don't think either of us had had a very clear expectation of such rough -handling as we had received. I struggled painfully to my feet. "And now," -said I, "to look at the landscape of the moon! But--! It's tremendously -dark, Cavor!" - -The glass was dewy, and as I spoke I wiped at it with my blanket. "We're -half an hour or so beyond the day," he said. "We must wait." - -It was impossible to distinguish anything. We might have been in a sphere -of steel for all that we could see. My rubbing with the blanket simply -smeared the glass, and as fast as I wiped it, it became opaque again with -freshly condensed moisture mixed with an increasing quantity of blanket -hairs. Of course I ought not to have used the blanket. In my efforts to -clear the glass I slipped upon the damp surface, and hurt my shin against -one of the oxygen cylinders that protruded from our bale. - -The thing was exasperating--it was absurd. Here we were just arrived upon -the moon, amidst we knew not what wonders, and all we could see was the -gray and streaming wall of the bubble in which we had come. - -"Confound it!" I said, "but at this rate we might have stopped at home;" -and I squatted on the bale and shivered, and drew my blanket closer about -me. - -Abruptly the moisture turned to spangles and fronds of frost. "Can you -reach the electric heater," said Cavor. "Yes--that black knob. Or we -shall freeze." - -I did not wait to be told twice. "And now," said I, "what are we to do?" - -"Wait," he said. - -"Wait?" - -"Of course. We shall have to wait until our air gets warm again, and then -this glass will clear. We can't do anything till then. It's night here -yet; we must wait for the day to overtake us. Meanwhile, don't you feel -hungry?" - -For a space I did not answer him, but sat fretting. I turned reluctantly -from the smeared puzzle of the glass and stared at his face. "Yes," -I said, "I am hungry. I feel somehow enormously disappointed. I had -expected--I don't know what I had expected, but not this." - -I summoned my philosophy, and rearranging my blanket about me sat down on -the bale again and began my first meal on the moon. I don't think I -finished it--I forget. Presently, first in patches, then running rapidly -together into wider spaces, came the clearing of the glass, came the -drawing of the misty veil that hid the moon world from our eyes. - -We peered out upon the landscape of the moon. - - - - - -Chapter 7 - - - - -Sunrise on the Moon - -As we saw it first it was the wildest and most desolate of scenes. We were -in an enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain, the floor of the giant -crater. Its cliff-like walls closed us in on every side. From the westward -the light of the unseen sun fell upon them, reaching to the very foot of -the cliff, and showed a disordered escarpment of drab and grayish rock, -lined here and there with banks and crevices of snow. This was perhaps a -dozen miles away, but at first no intervening atmosphere diminished in the -slightest the minutely detailed brilliancy with which these things glared -at us. They stood out clear and dazzling against a background of starry -blackness that seemed to our earthly eyes rather a gloriously spangled -velvet curtain than the spaciousness of the sky. - -The eastward cliff was at first merely a starless selvedge to the starry -dome. No rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the commencing day. -Only the Corona, the Zodiacal light, a huge cone-shaped, luminous haze, -pointing up towards the splendour of the morning star, warned us of the -imminent nearness of the sun. - -Whatever light was about us was reflected by the westward cliffs. It -showed a huge undulating plain, cold and gray, a gray that deepened -eastward into the absolute raven darkness of the cliff shadow. Innumerable -rounded gray summits, ghostly hummocks, billows of snowy substance, -stretching crest beyond crest into the remote obscurity, gave us our first -inkling of the distance of the crater wall. These hummocks looked like -snow. At the time I thought they were snow. But they were not--they were -mounds and masses of frozen air. - -So it was at first; and then, sudden, swift, and amazing, came the lunar -day. - -The sunlight had crept down the cliff, it touched the drifted masses at -its base and incontinently came striding with seven-leagued boots towards -us. The distant cliff seemed to shift and quiver, and at the touch of the -dawn a reek of gray vapour poured upward from the crater floor, whirls and -puffs and drifting wraiths of gray, thicker and broader and denser, until -at last the whole westward plain was steaming like a wet handkerchief held -before the fire, and the westward cliffs were no more than refracted glare -beyond. - -"It is air," said Cavor. "It must be air--or it would not rise like -this--at the mere touch of a sun-beam. And at this pace...." - -He peered upwards. "Look!" he said. - -"What?" I asked. - -"In the sky. Already. On the blackness--a little touch of blue. See! The -stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim nebulosities we -saw in empty space--they are hidden!" - -Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. Gray summit after gray summit -was overtaken by the blaze, and turned to a smoking white intensity. At -last there was nothing to the west of us but a bank of surging fog, the -tumultuous advance and ascent of cloudy haze. The distant cliff had -receded farther and farther, had loomed and changed through the whirl, -and foundered and vanished at last in its confusion. - -Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer and nearer, coming as fast as -the shadow of a cloud before the south-west wind. About us rose a thin -anticipatory haze. - -Cavor gripped my arm. "What?" I said. - -"Look! The sunrise! The sun!" - -He turned me about and pointed to the brow of the eastward cliff, looming -above the haze about us, scarce lighter than the darkness of the sky. But -now its line was marked by strange reddish shapes, tongues of vermilion -flame that writhed and danced. I fancied it must be spirals of vapour that -had caught the light and made this crest of fiery tongues against the sky, -but indeed it was the solar prominences I saw, a crown of fire about the -sun that is forever hidden from earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil. - -And then--the sun! - -Steadily, inevitably came a brilliant line, came a thin edge of -intolerable effulgence that took a circular shape, became a bow, became a -blazing sceptre, and hurled a shaft of heat at us as though it was a -spear. - -It seemed verily to stab my eyes! I cried aloud and turned about blinded, -groping for my blanket beneath the bale. - -And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had reached -us from without since we left the earth, a hissing and rustling, the -stormy trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing day. And with the -coming of the sound and the light the sphere lurched, and blinded and -dazzled we staggered helplessly against each other. It lurched again, and -the hissing grew louder. I had shut my eyes perforce, I was making clumsy -efforts to cover my head with my blanket, and this second lurch sent me -helplessly off my feet. I fell against the bale, and opening my eyes had a -momentary glimpse of the air just outside our glass. It was running--it -was boiling--like snow into which a white-hot rod is thrust. What had -been solid air had suddenly at the touch of the sun become a paste, a -mud, a slushy liquefaction, that hissed and bubbled into gas. - -There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched -one another. In another moment we were spun about again. Round we went and -over, and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had hold of us. It meant -to show us little men what the moon could do with us. - -I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half liquid -slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We dropped into darkness. I -went down with Cavor's knees in my chest. Then he seemed to fly away from -me, and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my body staring -upward. A toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed over us, buried -us, and now it thinned and boiled off us. I saw the bubbles dancing on the -glass above. I heard Cavor exclaiming feebly. - -Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and spluttering -expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling faster and faster, -leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster and faster, westward -into the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar day. - -Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our -bale of packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We collided, we gripped, -we were torn asunder--our heads met, and the whole universe burst into -fiery darts and stars! On the earth we should have smashed one another a -dozen times, but on the moon, luckily for us, our weight was only -one-sixth of what it is terrestrially, and we fell very mercifully. I -recall a sensation of utter sickness, a feeling as if my brain were upside -down within my skull, and then-- - -Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears. -Then I discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated by -blue spectacles. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, his -eyes also protected by tinted goggles. His breath came irregularly, and -his lip was bleeding from a bruise. "Better?" he said, wiping the blood -with the back of his hand. - -Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my giddiness. I -perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the outer sphere to -save me--from the direct blaze of the sun. I was aware that everything -about us was very brilliant. - -"Lord!" I gasped. "But this--" - -I craned my neck to see. I perceived there was a blinding glare outside, -an utter change from the gloomy darkness of our first impressions. "Have I -been insensible long?" I asked. - -"I don't know--the chronometer is broken. Some little time.... My dear -chap! I have been afraid..." - -I lay for a space taking this in. I saw his face still bore evidences of -emotion. For a while I said nothing. I passed an inquisitive hand over my -contusions, and surveyed his face for similar damages. The back of my -right hand had suffered most, and was skinless and raw. My forehead was -bruised and had bled. He handed me a little measure with some of the -restorative--I forget the name of it--he had brought with us. After a -time I felt a little better. I began to stretch my limbs carefully. Soon -I could talk. - -"It wouldn't have done," I said, as though there had been no interval. - -"No! it _wouldn't_." - -He thought, his hands hanging over his knees. He peered through the glass -and then stared at me. - -"Good Lord!" he said. "No!" - -"What has happened?" I asked after a pause. "Have we jumped to the -tropics?" - -"It was as I expected. This air has evaporated--if it is air. At any -rate, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are -lying on a bank of earthy rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed. A -queer sort of soil!" - -It occurred to him that it was unnecessary to explain. He assisted me into -a sitting position, and I could see with my own eyes. - - - - - -Chapter 8 - - - - -A Lunar Morning - -The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and white of scenery had altogether -disappeared. The glare of the sun had taken upon itself a faint tinge of -amber; the shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall were deeply purple. -To the eastward a dark bank of fog still crouched and sheltered from the -sunrise, but to the westward the sky was blue and clear. I began to -realise the length of my insensibility. - -We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had arisen about us. The -outline of things had gained in character, had grown acute and varied; -save for a shadowed space of white substance here and there, white -substance that was no longer air but snow, the arctic appearance had gone -altogether. Everywhere broad rusty brown spaces of bare and tumbled earth -spread to the blaze of the sun. Here and there at the edge of the -snowdrifts were transient little pools and eddies of water, the only -things stirring in that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight inundated the -upper two blinds of our sphere and turned our climate to high summer, but -our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was lying upon a drift of -snow. - -And scattered here and there upon the slope, and emphasised by little -white threads of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, were shapes like -sticks, dry twisted sticks of the same rusty hue as the rock upon which -they lay. That caught one's thoughts sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless -world? Then as my eye grew more accustomed to the texture of their -substance, I perceived that almost all this surface had a fibrous texture, -like the carpet of brown needles one finds beneath the shade of pine -trees. - -"Cavor!" I said. - -"Yes." - -"It may be a dead world now--but once--" - -Something arrested my attention. I had discovered among these needles a -number of little round objects. And it seemed to me that one of these had -moved. "Cavor," I whispered. - -"What?" - -But I did not answer at once. I stared incredulous. For an instant I -could not believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. I gripped his arm. -I pointed. "Look!" I cried, finding my tongue. "There! Yes! And there!" - -His eyes followed my pointing finger. "Eh?" he said. - -How can I describe the thing I saw? It is so petty a thing to state, and -yet it seemed so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I have said that -amidst the stick-like litter were these rounded bodies, these little oval -bodies that might have passed as very small pebbles. And now first one and -then another had stirred, had rolled over and cracked, and down the crack -of each of them showed a minute line of yellowish green, thrusting outward -to meet the hot encouragement of the newly-risen sun. For a moment that -was all, and then there stirred, and burst a third! - -"It is a seed," said Cavor. And then I heard him whisper very softly, -"Life!" - -"Life!" And immediately it poured upon us that our vast journey had not -been made in vain, that we had come to no arid waste of minerals, but to a -world that lived and moved! We watched intensely. I remember I kept -rubbing the glass before me with my sleeve, jealous of the faintest -suspicion of mist. - -The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field. All about -that centre the dead fibres and seeds were magnified and distorted by the -curvature of the glass. But we could see enough! One after another all -down the sunlit slope these miraculous little brown bodies burst and gaped -apart, like seed-pods, like the husks of fruits; opened eager mouths. -that drank in the heat and light pouring in a cascade from the newly-risen -sun. - -Every moment more of these seed coats ruptured, and even as they did so -the swelling pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed-cases, and -passed into the second stage of growth. With a steady assurance, a swift -deliberation, these amazing seeds thrust a rootlet downward to the earth -and a queer little bundle-like bud into the air. In a little while the -whole slope was dotted with minute plantlets standing at attention in the -blaze of the sun. - -They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled and strained and -opened with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little sharp tips, -spreading a whorl of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves, that lengthened -rapidly, lengthened visibly even as we watched. The movement was slower -than any animal's, swifter than any plant's I have ever seen before. How -can I suggest it to you--the way that growth went on? The leaf tips grew -so that they moved onward even while we looked at them. The brown -seed-case shrivelled and was absorbed with an equal rapidity. Have you -ever on a cold day taken a thermometer into your warm hand and watched the -little thread of mercury creep up the tube? These moon plants grew like -that. - -In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds of the more forward of these -plants had lengthened into a stem and were even putting forth a second -whorl of leaves, and all the slope that had seemed so recently a lifeless -stretch of litter was now dark with the stunted olive-green herbage of -bristling spikes that swayed with the vigour of their growing. - -I turned about, and behold! along the upper edge of a rock to the eastward -a similar fringe in a scarcely less forward condition swayed and bent, -dark against the blinding glare of the sun. And beyond this fringe was the -silhouette of a plant mass, branching clumsily like a cactus, and swelling -visibly, swelling like a bladder that fills with air. - -Then to the westward also I discovered that another such distended form -was rising over the scrub. But here the light fell upon its sleek sides, -and I could see that its colour was a vivid orange hue. It rose as one -watched it; if one looked away from it for a minute and then back, its -outline had changed; it thrust out blunt congested branches until in a -little time it rose a coralline shape of many feet in height. Compared -with such a growth the terrestrial puff-ball, which will sometimes swell a -foot in diameter in a single night, would be a hopeless laggard. But then -the puff-ball grows against a gravitational pull six times that of the -moon. Beyond, out of gullies and flats that had been hidden from us, but -not from the quickening sun, over reefs and banks of shining rock, a -bristling beard of spiky and fleshy vegetation was straining into view, -hurrying tumultuously to take advantage of the brief day in which it must -flower and fruit and seed again and die. It was like a miracle, that -growth. So, one must imagine, the trees and plants arose at the Creation -and covered the desolation of the new-made earth. - -Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The resurrection of the frozen air, the -stirring and quickening of the soil, and then this silent uprising of -vegetation, this unearthly ascent of fleshiness and spikes. Conceive it -all lit by a blaze that would make the intensest sunlight of earth seem -watery and weak. And still around this stirring jungle, wherever there was -shadow, lingered banks of bluish snow. And to have the picture of our -impression complete, you must bear in mind that we saw it all through a -thick bent glass, distorting it as things are distorted by a lens, acute -only in the centre of the picture, and very bright there, and towards the -edges magnified and unreal. - - - - - -Chapter 9 - - - - -Prospecting Begins - -We ceased to gaze. We turned to each other, the same thought, the same -question in our eyes. For these plants to grow, there must be some air, -however attenuated, air that we also should be able to breathe. - -"The manhole?" I said. - -"Yes!" said Cavor, "if it is air we see!" - -"In a little while," I said, "these plants will be as high as we are. -Suppose--suppose after all-- Is it certain? How do you know that stuff -_is_ air? It may be nitrogen--it may be carbonic acid even!" - -"That's easy," he said, and set about proving it. He produced a big piece -of crumpled paper from the bale, lit it, and thrust it hastily through the -man-hole valve. I bent forward and peered down through the thick glass for -its appearance outside, that little flame on whose evidence depended so -much! - -I saw the paper drop out and lie lightly upon the snow. The pink flame of -its burning vanished. For an instant it seemed to be extinguished. And -then I saw a little blue tongue upon the edge of it that trembled, and -crept, and spread! - -Quietly the whole sheet, save where it lay in immediate contact with the -snow, charred and shrivelled and sent up a quivering thread of smoke. -There was no doubt left to me; the atmosphere of the moon was either pure -oxygen or air, and capable therefore--unless its tenuity was excessive--of -supporting our alien life. We might emerge--and live! - -I sat down with my legs on either side of the manhole and prepared to -unscrew it, but Cavor stopped me. "There is first a little precaution," -he said. He pointed out that although it was certainly an oxygenated -atmosphere outside, it might still be so rarefied as to cause us grave -injury. He reminded me of mountain sickness, and of the bleeding that -often afflicts aeronauts who have ascended too swiftly, and he spent some -time in the preparation of a sickly-tasting drink which he insisted on my -sharing. It made me feel a little numb, but otherwise had no effect on me. -Then he permitted me to begin unscrewing. - -Presently the glass stopper of the manhole was so far undone that the -denser air within our sphere began to escape along the thread of the -screw, singing as a kettle sings before it boils. Thereupon he made me -desist. It speedily became evident that the pressure outside was very much -less than it was within. How much less it was we had no means of telling. - -I sat grasping the stopper with both hands, ready to close it again if, in -spite of our intense hope, the lunar atmosphere should after all prove too -rarefied for us, and Cavor sat with a cylinder of compressed oxygen at -hand to restore our pressure. We looked at one another in silence, and -then at the fantastic vegetation that swayed and grew visibly and -noiselessly without. And ever that shrill piping continued. - -My blood-vessels began to throb in my ears, and the sound of Cavor's -movements diminished. I noted how still everything had become, because of -the thinning of the air. - -As our air sizzled out from the screw the moisture of it condensed in -little puffs. - -Presently I experienced a peculiar shortness of breath that lasted indeed -during the whole of the time of our exposure to the moon's exterior -atmosphere, and a rather unpleasant sensation about the ears and -finger-nails and the back of the throat grew upon my attention, and -presently passed off again. - -But then came vertigo and nausea that abruptly changed the quality of my -courage. I gave the lid of the manhole half a turn and made a hasty -explanation to Cavor; but now he was the more sanguine. He answered me in -a voice that seemed extraordinarily small and remote, because of the -thinness of the air that carried the sound. He recommended a nip of -brandy, and set me the example, and presently I felt better. I turned the -manhole stopper back again. The throbbing in my ears grew louder, and then -I remarked that the piping note of the outrush had ceased. For a time I -could not be sure that it had ceased. - -"Well?" said Cavor, in the ghost of a voice. - -"Well?" said I. - -"Shall we go on?" - -I thought. "Is this all?" - -"If you can stand it." - -By way of answer I went on unscrewing. I lifted the circular operculum -from its place and laid it carefully on the bale. A flake or so of snow -whirled and vanished as that thin and unfamiliar air took possession of -our sphere. I knelt, and then seated myself at the edge of the manhole, -peering over it. Beneath, within a yard of my face, lay the untrodden snow -of the moon. - -There came a little pause. Our eyes met. - -"It doesn't distress your lungs too much?" said Cavor. - -"No," I said. "I can stand this." - -He stretched out his hand for his blanket, thrust his head through its -central hole, and wrapped it about him. He sat down on the edge of the -manhole, he let his feet drop until they were within six inches of the -lunar ground. He hesitated for a moment, then thrust himself forward, -dropped these intervening inches, and stood upon the untrodden soil of the -moon. - -As he stepped forward he was refracted grotesquely by the edge of the -glass. He stood for a moment looking this way and that. Then he drew -himself together and leapt. - -The glass distorted everything, but it seemed to me even then to be an -extremely big leap. He had at one bound become remote. He seemed twenty or -thirty feet off. He was standing high upon a rocky mass and gesticulating -back to me. Perhaps he was shouting--but the sound did not reach me. But -how the deuce had he done this? I felt like a man who has just seen a new -conjuring trick. - -In a puzzled state of mind I too dropped through the manhole. I stood up. -Just in front of me the snowdrift had fallen away and made a sort of -ditch. I made a step and jumped. - -I found myself flying through the air, saw the rock on which he stood -coming to meet me, clutched it and clung in a state of infinite amazement. - -I gasped a painful laugh. I was tremendously confused. Cavor bent down -and shouted in piping tones for me to be careful. - -I had forgotten that on the moon, with only an eighth part of the earth's -mass and a quarter of its diameter, my weight was barely a sixth what it -was on earth. But now that fact insisted on being remembered. - -"We are out of Mother Earth's leading-strings now," he said. - -With a guarded effort I raised myself to the top, and moving as cautiously -as a rheumatic patient, stood up beside him under the blaze of the sun. -The sphere lay behind us on its dwindling snowdrift thirty feet away. - -As far as the eye could see over the enormous disorder of rocks that -formed the crater floor, the same bristling scrub that surrounded us was -starting into life, diversified here and there by bulging masses of a -cactus form, and scarlet and purple lichens that grew so fast they seemed -to crawl over the rocks. The whole area of the crater seemed to me then to -be one similar wilderness up to the very foot of the surrounding cliff. - -This cliff was apparently bare of vegetation save at its base, and with -buttresses and terraces and platforms that did not very greatly attract -our attention at the time. It was many miles away from us in every -direction; we seemed to be almost at the centre of the crater, and we saw -it through a certain haziness that drove before the wind. For there was -even a wind now in the thin air, a swift yet weak wind that chilled -exceedingly but exerted little pressure. It was blowing round the -crater, as it seemed, to the hot illuminated side from the foggy darkness -under the sunward wall. It was difficult to look into this eastward fog; -we had to peer with half-closed eyes beneath the shade of our hands, -because of the fierce intensity of the motionless sun. - -"It seems to be deserted," said Cavor, "absolutely desolate." - -I looked about me again. I retained even then a clinging hope of some -quasi-human evidence, some pinnacle of building, some house or engine, but -everywhere one looked spread the tumbled rocks in peaks and crests, and -the darting scrub and those bulging cacti that swelled and swelled, a flat -negation as it seemed of all such hope. - -"It looks as though these plants had it to themselves," I said. "I see no -trace of any other creature." - -"No insects--no birds, no! Not a trace, not a scrap nor particle of -animal life. If there was--what would they do in the night? ... No; -there's just these plants alone." - -I shaded my eyes with my hand. "It's like the landscape of a dream. These -things are less like earthly land plants than the things one imagines -among the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Look at that yonder! One might -imagine it a lizard changed into a plant. And the glare!" - -"This is only the fresh morning," said Cavor. - -He sighed and looked about him. "This is no world for men," he said. "And -yet in a way--it appeals." - -He became silent for a time, then commenced his meditative humming. - -I started at a gentle touch, and found a thin sheet of livid lichen -lapping over my shoe. I kicked at it and it fell to powder, and each speck -began to grow. - -I heard Cavor exclaim sharply, and perceived that one of the fixed -bayonets of the scrub had pricked him. He hesitated, his eyes sought -among the rocks about us. A sudden blaze of pink had crept up a ragged -pillar of crag. It was a most extraordinary pink, a livid magenta. - -"Look!" said I, turning, and behold Cavor had vanished. - -For an instant I stood transfixed. Then I made a hasty step to look over -the verge of the rock. But in my surprise at his disappearance I forgot -once more that we were on the moon. The thrust of my foot that I made in -striding would have carried me a yard on earth; on the moon it carried me -six--a good five yards over the edge. For the moment the thing had -something of the effect of those nightmares when one falls and falls. For -while one falls sixteen feet in the first second of a fall on earth, on -the moon one falls two, and with only a sixth of one's weight. I fell, or -rather I jumped down, about ten yards I suppose. It seemed to take quite a -long time, five or six seconds, I should think. I floated through the air -and fell like a feather, knee-deep in a snow-drift in the bottom of a -gully of blue-gray, white-veined rock. - -I looked about me. "Cavor!" I cried; but no Cavor was visible. - -"Cavor!" I cried louder, and the rocks echoed me. - -I turned fiercely to the rocks and clambered to the summit of them. -"Cavor!" I cried. My voice sounded like the voice of a lost lamb. - -The sphere, too, was not in sight, and for a moment a horrible feeling of -desolation pinched my heart. - -Then I saw him. He was laughing and gesticulating to attract my attention. -He was on a bare patch of rock twenty or thirty yards away. I could not -hear his voice, but "jump" said his gestures. I hesitated, the distance -seemed enormous. Yet I reflected that surely I must be able to clear a -greater distance than Cavor. - -I made a step back, gathered myself together, and leapt with all my might. -I seemed to shoot right up in the air as though I should never come down. - -It was horrible and delightful, and as wild as a nightmare, to go flying -off in this fashion. I realised my leap had been altogether too violent. -I flew clean over Cavor's head and beheld a spiky confusion in a gully -spreading to meet my fall. I gave a yelp of alarm. I put out my hands and -straightened my legs. - -I hit a huge fungoid bulk that burst all about me, scattering a mass of -orange spores in every direction, and covering me with orange powder. I -rolled over spluttering, and came to rest convulsed with breathless -laughter. - -I became aware of Cavor's little round face peering over a bristling -hedge. He shouted some faded inquiry. "Eh?" I tried to shout, but could -not do so for want of breath. He made his way towards me, coming gingerly -among the bushes. - -"We've got to be careful," he said. "This moon has no discipline. She'll -let us smash ourselves." - -He helped me to my feet. "You exerted yourself too much," he said, dabbing -at the yellow stuff with his hand to remove it from my garments. - -I stood passive and panting, allowing him to beat off the jelly from my -knees and elbows and lecture me upon my misfortunes. "We don't quite -allow for the gravitation. Our muscles are scarcely educated yet. We must -practise a little, when you have got your breath." - -I pulled two or three little thorns out of my hand, and sat for a time on -a boulder of rock. My muscles were quivering, and I had that feeling of -personal disillusionment that comes at the first fall to the learner of -cycling on earth. - -It suddenly occurred to Cavor that the cold air in the gully, after the -brightness of the sun, might give me a fever. So we clambered back into -the sunlight. We found that beyond a few abrasions I had received no -serious injuries from my tumble, and at Cavor's suggestion we were -presently looking round for some safe and easy landing-place for my next -leap. We chose a rocky slab some ten yards off, separated from us by a -little thicket of olive-green spikes. - -"Imagine it there!" said Cavor, who was assuming the airs of a trainer, -and he pointed to a spot about four feet from my toes. This leap I managed -without difficulty, and I must confess I found a certain satisfaction in -Cavor's falling short by a foot or so and tasting the spikes of the scrub. -"One has to be careful you see," he said, pulling out his thorns, and with -that he ceased to be my mentor and became my fellow-learner in the art of -lunar locomotion. - -We chose a still easier jump and did it without difficulty, and then leapt -back again, and to and fro several times, accustoming our muscles to the -new standard. I could never have believed had I not experienced it, how -rapid that adaptation would be. In a very little time indeed, certainly -after fewer than thirty leaps, we could judge the effort necessary for a -distance with almost terrestrial assurance. - -And all this time the lunar plants were growing around us, higher and -denser and more entangled, every moment thicker and taller, spiked plants, -green cactus masses, fungi, fleshy and lichenous things, strangest radiate -and sinuous shapes. But we were so intent upon our leaping, that for a -time we gave no heed to their unfaltering expansion. - -An extraordinary elation had taken possession of us. Partly, I think, it -was our sense of release from the confinement of the sphere. Mainly, -however, the thin sweetness of the air, which I am certain contained a -much larger proportion of oxygen than our terrestrial atmosphere. In spite -of the strange quality of all about us, I felt as adventurous and -experimental as a cockney would do placed for the first time among -mountains and I do not think it occurred to either of us, face to face -though we were with the unknown, to be very greatly afraid. - -We were bitten by a spirit of enterprise. We selected a lichenous kopje -perhaps fifteen yards away, and landed neatly on its summit one after the -other. "Good!" we cried to each other; "good!" and Cavor made three steps -and went off to a tempting slope of snow a good twenty yards and more -beyond. I stood for a moment struck by the grotesque effect of his -soaring figure--his dirty cricket cap, and spiky hair, his little round -body, his arms and his knicker-bockered legs tucked up tightly--against -the weird spaciousness of the lunar scene. A gust of laughter seized me, -and then I stepped off to follow. Plump! I dropped beside him. - -We made a few gargantuan strides, leapt three or four times more, and sat -down at last in a lichenous hollow. Our lungs were painful. We sat holding -our sides and recovering our breath, looking appreciation to one another. -Cavor panted something about "amazing sensations." And then came a thought -into my head. For the moment it did not seem a particularly appalling -thought, simply a natural question arising out of the situation. - -"By the way," I said, "where exactly is the sphere?" - -Cavor looked at me. "Eh?" - -The full meaning of what we were saying struck me sharply. - -"Cavor!" I cried, laying a hand on his arm, "where is the sphere?" - - - - - -Chapter 10 - - - - -Lost Men in the Moon - -His face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about him -at the scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward in a -passion of growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke with a -sudden lack of assurance. "I think," he said slowly, "we left it ... -somewhere ... about _there_." - -He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc. - -"I'm not sure." His look of consternation deepened. "Anyhow," he said, -with his eyes on me, "it can't be far." - -We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought in -the twining, thickening jungle round about us. - -All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed and swayed the darting shrubs, -the swelling cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever the shade remained -the snow-drifts lingered. North, south, east, and west spread an identical -monotony of unfamiliar forms. And somewhere, buried already among this -tangled confusion, was our sphere, our home, our only provision, our only -hope of escape from this fantastic wilderness of ephemeral growths into -which we had come. - -"I think after all," he said, pointing suddenly, "it might be over there." - -"No," I said. "We have turned in a curve. See! here is the mark of my -heels. It's clear the thing must be more to the eastward, much more. -No--the sphere must be over there." - -"I _think_," said Cavor, "I kept the sun upon my right all the time." - -"Every leap, it seems to me," I said, "my shadow flew before me." - -We stared into one another's eyes. The area of the crater had become -enormously vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets already -impenetrably dense. - -"Good heavens! What fools we have been!" - -"It's evident that we must find it again," said Cavor, "and that soon. -The sun grows stronger. We should be fainting with the heat already if -it wasn't so dry. And ... I'm hungry." - -I stared at him. I had not suspected this aspect of the matter before. But -it came to me at once--a positive craving. "Yes," I said with emphasis. -"I am hungry too." - -He stood up with a look of active resolution. "Certainly we must find the -sphere." - -As calmly as possible we surveyed the interminable reefs and thickets that -formed the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in silence the chances -of our finding the sphere before we were overtaken by heat and hunger. - -"It can't be fifty yards from here," said Cavor, with indecisive gestures. -"The only thing is to beat round about until we come upon it." - -"That is all we can do," I said, without any alacrity to begin our hunt. -"I wish this confounded spike bush did not grow so fast!" - -"That's just it," said Cavor. "But it was lying on a bank of snow." - -I stared about me in the vain hope of recognising some knoll or shrub that -had been near the sphere. But everywhere was a confusing sameness, -everywhere the aspiring bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling snow -banks, steadily and inevitably changed. The sun scorched and stung, the -faintness of an unaccountable hunger mingled with our infinite perplexity. -And even as we stood there, confused and lost amidst unprecedented things, -we became aware for the first time of a sound upon the moon other than the -air of the growing plants, the faint sighing of the wind, or those that we -ourselves had made. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. - -It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear it -with our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull resonance was muffled by -distance, thick with the quality of intervening substance. No sound that I -can imagine could have astonished us more, or have changed more completely -the quality of things about us. For this sound, rich, slow, and -deliberate, seemed to us as though it could be nothing but the striking of -some gigantic buried clock. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. - -Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleepless nights in crowded -cities, of vigils and the awaited hour, of all that is orderly and -methodical in life, booming out pregnant and mysterious in this fantastic -desert! To the eye everything was unchanged: the desolation of bushes and -cacti waving silently in the wind, stretched unbroken to the distant -cliffs, the still dark sky was empty overhead, and the hot sun hung and -burned. And through it all, a warning, a threat, throbbed this enigma of -sound. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom.... - -We questioned one another in faint and faded voices. - -"A clock?" - -"Like a clock!" - -"What is it?" - -"What can it be?" - -"Count," was Cavor's belated suggestion, and at that word the striking -ceased. - -The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a fresh -shock. For a moment one could doubt whether one had ever heard a sound. Or -whether it might not still be going on. Had I indeed heard a sound? - -I felt the pressure of Cavor's hand upon my arm. He spoke in an -undertone, as though he feared to wake some sleeping thing. "Let us keep -together," he whispered, "and look for the sphere. We must get back to the -sphere. This is beyond our understanding." - -"Which way shall we go?" - -He hesitated. An intense persuasion of presences, of unseen things about -us and near us, dominated our minds. What could they be? Where could they -be? Was this arid desolation, alternately frozen and scorched, only the -outer rind and mask of some subterranean world? And if so, what sort of -world? What sort of inhabitants might it not presently disgorge upon us? - -And then, stabbing the aching stillness as vivid and sudden as an -unexpected thunderclap, came a clang and rattle as though great gates of -metal had suddenly been flung apart. - -It arrested our steps. We stood gaping helplessly. Then Cavor stole -towards me. - -"I do not understand!" he whispered close to my face. He waved his hand -vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of still vaguer thoughts. - -"A hiding-place! If anything came..." - -I looked about us. I nodded my head in assent to him. - -We started off, moving stealthily with the most exaggerated precautions -against noise. We went towards a thicket of scrub. A clangour like hammers -flung about a boiler hastened our steps. "We must crawl," whispered Cavor. - -The lower leaves of the bayonet plants, already overshadowed by the newer -ones above, were beginning to wilt and shrivel so that we could thrust our -way in among the thickening stems without serious injury. A stab in the -face or arm we did not heed. At the heart of the thicket I stopped, and -stared panting into Cavor's face. - -"Subterranean," he whispered. "Below." - -"They may come out." - -"We must find the sphere!" - -"Yes," I said; "but how?" - -"Crawl till we come to it." - -"But if we don't?" - -"Keep hidden. See what they are like." - -"We will keep together," said I. - -He thought. "Which way shall we go?" - -"We must take our chance." - -We peered this way and that. Then very circumspectly, we began to crawl -through the lower jungle, making, so far as we could judge, a circuit, -halting now at every waving fungus, at every sound, intent only on the -sphere from which we had so foolishly emerged. Ever and again from out of -the earth beneath us came concussions, beatings, strange, inexplicable, -mechanical sounds; and once, and then again, we thought we heard -something, a faint rattle and tumult, borne to us through the air. But -fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage-point to survey the crater. -For long we saw nothing of the beings whose sounds were so abundant and -insistent. But for the faintness of our hunger and the drying of our -throats that crawling would have had the quality of a very vivid dream. It -was so absolutely unreal. The only element with any touch of reality was -these sounds. - -Picture it to yourself! About us the dream-like jungle, with the silent -bayonet leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, sun-splashed -lichens under our hands and knees, waving with the vigour of their growth -as a carpet waves when the wind gets beneath it. Ever and again one of the -bladder fungi, bulging and distending under the sun, loomed upon us. Ever -and again some novel shape in vivid colour obtruded. The very cells that -built up these plants were as large as my thumb, like beads of coloured -glass. And all these things were saturated in the unmitigated glare of the -sun, were seen against a sky that was bluish black and spangled still, in -spite of the sunlight, with a few surviving stars. Strange! the very forms -and texture of the stones were strange. It was all strange, the feeling of -one's body was unprecedented, every other movement ended in a surprise. -The breath sucked thin in one's throat, the blood flowed through one's -ears in a throbbing tide--thud, thud, thud, thud.... - -And ever and again came gusts of turmoil, hammering, the clanging and -throb of machinery, and presently--the bellowing of great beasts! - - - - - -Chapter 11 - - - - -The Mooncalf Pastures - -So we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in that wild-growing moon -jungle, crawled in terror before the sounds that had come upon us. We -crawled, as it seemed, a long time before we saw either Selenite or -mooncalf, though we heard the bellowing and gruntulous noises of these -latter continually drawing nearer to us. We crawled through stony ravines, -over snow slopes, amidst fungi that ripped like thin bladders at our -thrust, emitting a watery humour, over a perfect pavement of things like -puff-balls, and beneath interminable thickets of scrub. And ever more -helplessly our eyes sought for our abandoned sphere. The noise of the -mooncalves would at times be a vast flat calf-like sound, at times it rose -to an amazed and wrathy bellowing, and again it would become a clogged -bestial sound, as though these unseen creatures had sought to eat and -bellow at the same time. - -Our first view was but an inadequate transitory glimpse, yet none the less -disturbing because it was incomplete. Cavor was crawling in front at the -time, and he first was aware of their proximity. He stopped dead, -arresting me with a single gesture. - -A crackling and smashing of the scrub appeared to be advancing directly -upon us, and then, as we squatted close and endeavoured to judge of the -nearness and direction of this noise, there came a terrific bellow behind -us, so close and vehement that the tops of the bayonet scrub bent before -it, and one felt the breath of it hot and moist. And, turning about, we -saw indistinctly through a crowd of swaying stems the mooncalf's shining -sides, and the long line of its back loomed out against the sky. - -Of course it is hard for me now to say how much I saw at that time, -because my impressions were corrected by subsequent observation. First of -all impressions was its enormous size; the girth of its body was some -fourscore feet, its length perhaps two hundred. Its sides rose and fell -with its laboured breathing. I perceived that its gigantic, flabby body -lay along the ground, and that its skin was of a corrugated white, -dappling into blackness along the backbone. But of its feet we saw -nothing. I think also that we saw then the profile at least of the almost -brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, its slobbering omnivorous -mouth, its little nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For the mooncalf -invariably shuts its eyes in the presence of the sun.) We had a glimpse of -a vast red pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and bellow again; we had a -breath from the pit, and then the monster heeled over like a ship, dragged -forward along the ground, creasing all its leathery skin, rolled again, -and so wallowed past us, smashing a path amidst the scrub, and was -speedily hidden from our eyes by the dense interlacings beyond. Another -appeared more distantly, and then another, and then, as though he was -guiding these animated lumps of provender to their pasture, a Selenite -came momentarily into ken. My grip upon Cavor's foot became convulsive at -the sight of him, and we remained motionless and peering long after he had -passed out of our range. - -By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed a trivial being, a mere ant, -scarcely five feet high. He was wearing garments of some leathery -substance, so that no portion of his actual body appeared, but of this, of -course, we were entirely ignorant. He presented himself, therefore, as a -compact, bristling creature, having much of the quality of a complicated -insect, with whip-like tentacles and a clanging arm projecting from his -shining cylindrical body case. The form of his head was hidden by his -enormous many-spiked helmet--we discovered afterwards that he used the -spikes for prodding refractory mooncalves--and a pair of goggles of -darkened glass, set very much at the side, gave a bird-like quality to the -metallic apparatus that covered his face. His arms did not project beyond -his body case, and he carried himself upon short legs that, wrapped though -they were in warm coverings, seemed to our terrestrial eyes inordinately -flimsy. They had very short thighs, very long shanks, and little feet. - -In spite of his heavy-looking clothing, he was progressing with what would -be, from the terrestrial point of view, very considerable strides, and his -clanging arm was busy. The quality of his motion during the instant of his -passing suggested haste and a certain anger, and soon after we had lost -sight of him we heard the bellow of a mooncalf change abruptly into a -short, sharp squeal followed by the scuffle of its acceleration. And -gradually that bellowing receded, and then came to an end, as if the -pastures sought had been attained. - -We listened. For a space the moon world was still. But it was some time -before we resumed our crawling search for the vanished sphere. - -When next we saw mooncalves they were some little distance away from us in -a place of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces of the rocks were -thick with a speckled green plant growing in dense mossy clumps, upon -which these creatures were browsing. We stopped at the edge of the reeds -amidst which we were crawling at the sight of them, peering out at then -and looking round for a second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay against -their food like stupendous slugs, huge, greasy hulls, eating greedily and -noisily, with a sort of sobbing avidity. They seemed monsters of mere -fatness, clumsy and overwhelmed to a degree that would make a Smithfield -ox seem a model of agility. Their busy, writhing, chewing mouths, and eyes -closed, together with the appetising sound of their munching, made up an -effect of animal enjoyment that was singularly stimulating to our empty -frames. - -"Hogs!" said Cavor, with unusual passion. "Disgusting hogs!" and after -one glare of angry envy crawled off through the bushes to our right. I -stayed long enough to see that the speckled plant was quite hopeless for -human nourishment, then crawled after him, nibbling a quill of it between -my teeth. - -Presently we were arrested again by the proximity of a Selenite, and this -time we were able to observe him more exactly. Now we could see that the -Selenite covering was indeed clothing, and not a sort of crustacean -integument. He was quite similar in his costume to the former one we had -glimpsed, except that ends of something like wadding were protruding from -his neck, and he stood on a promontory of rock and moved his head this way -and that, as though he was surveying the crater. We lay quite still, -fearing to attract his attention if we moved, and after a time he turned -about and disappeared. - -We came upon another drove of mooncalves bellowing up a ravine, and then -we passed over a place of sounds, sounds of beating machinery as if some -huge hall of industry came near the surface there. And while these sounds -were still about us we came to the edge of a great open space, perhaps two -hundred yards in diameter, and perfectly level. Save for a few lichens -that advanced from its margin this space was bare, and presented a powdery -surface of a dusty yellow colour. We were afraid to strike out across -this space, but as it presented less obstruction to our crawling than the -scrub, we went down upon it and began very circumspectly to skirt its -edge. - -For a little while the noises from below ceased and everything, save for -the faint stir of the growing vegetation, was very still. Then abruptly -there began an uproar, louder, more vehement, and nearer than any we had -so far heard. Of a certainty it came from below. Instinctively we crouched -as flat as we could, ready for a prompt plunge into the thicket beside us. -Each knock and throb seemed to vibrate through our bodies. Louder grew -this throbbing and beating, and that irregular vibration increased until -the whole moon world seemed to be jerking and pulsing. - -"Cover," whispered Cavor, and I turned towards the bushes. - -At that instant came a thud like the thud of a gun, and then a thing -happened--it still haunts me in my dreams. I had turned my head to look -at Cavor's face, and thrust out my hand in front of me as I did so. -And my hand met nothing! I plunged suddenly into a bottomless hole! - -My chest hit something hard, and I found myself with my chin on the edge -of an unfathomable abyss that had suddenly opened beneath me, my hand -extended stiffly into the void. The whole of that flat circular area was -no more than a gigantic lid, that was now sliding sideways from off the -pit it had covered into a slot prepared for it. - -Had it not been for Cavor I think I should have remained rigid, hanging -over this margin and staring into the enormous gulf below, until at last -the edges of the slot scraped me off and hurled me into its depths. But -Cavor had not received the shock that had paralysed me. He had been a -little distance from the edge when the lid had first opened, and -perceiving the peril that held me helpless, gripped my legs and pulled me -backward. I came into a sitting position, crawled away from the edge for a -space on all fours, then staggered up and ran after him across the -thundering, quivering sheet of metal. It seemed to be swinging open with a -steadily accelerated velocity, and the bushes in front of me shifted -sideways as I ran. - -I was none too soon. Cavor's back vanished amidst the bristling thicket, -and as I scrambled up after him, the monstrous valve came into its -position with a clang. For a long time we lay panting, not daring to -approach the pit. - -But at last very cautiously and bit by bit we crept into a position from -which we could peer down. The bushes about us creaked and waved with the -force of a breeze that was blowing down the shaft. We could see nothing at -first except smooth vertical walls descending at last into an impenetrable -black. And then very gradually we became aware of a number of very faint -and little lights going to and fro. - -For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery held us so that we forgot even -our sphere. In time, as we grew more accustomed to the darkness, we could -make out very small, dim, elusive shapes moving about among those -needle-point illuminations. We peered amazed and incredulous, -understanding so little that we could find no words to say. We could -distinguish nothing that would give us a clue to the meaning of the faint -shapes we saw. - -"What can it be?" I asked; "what can it be?" - -"The engineering!... They must live in these caverns during the night, and -come out during the day." - -"Cavor!" I said. "Can they be--that--it was something like--men?" - -"_That_ was not a man." - -"We dare risk nothing!" - -"We dare do nothing until we find the sphere!" - -"We _can_ do nothing until we find the sphere." - -He assented with a groan and stirred himself to move. He stared about him -for a space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We struck out through the -jungle. For a time we crawled resolutely, then with diminishing vigour. -Presently among great shapes of flabby purple there came a noise of -trampling and cries about us. We lay close, and for a long time the sounds -went to and fro and very near. But this time we saw nothing. I tried to -whisper to Cavor that I could hardly go without food much longer, but my -mouth had become too dry for whispering. - -"Cavor," I said, "I must have food." - -He turned a face full of dismay towards me. "It's a case for holding out," -he said. - -"But I _must_," I said, "and look at my lips!" - -"I've been thirsty some time." - -"If only some of that snow had remained!" - -"It's clean gone! We're driving from arctic to tropical at the rate of a -degree a minute...." - -I gnawed my hand. - -"The sphere!" he said. "There is nothing for it but the sphere." - -We roused ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My mind ran entirely on -edible things, on the hissing profundity of summer drinks, more -particularly I craved for beer. I was haunted by the memory of a sixteen -gallon cask that had swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I thought of the -adjacent larder, and especially of steak and kidney pie--tender steak and -plenty of kidney, and rich, thick gravy between. Ever and again I was -seized with fits of hungry yawning. We came to flat places overgrown with -fleshy red things, monstrous coralline growths; as we pushed against them -they snapped and broke. I noted the quality of the broken surfaces. The -confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable texture. Then it seemed to -me that it smelt rather well. - -I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. - -"Cavor," I said in a hoarse undertone. - -He glanced at me with his face screwed up. "Don't," he said. I put down -the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for -a space. - -"Cavor," I asked, "why not?" - -"Poison," I heard him say, but he did not look round. - -We crawled some way before I decided. - -"I'll chance it," said I. - -He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He -crouched watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression. -"It's good," I said. - -"O Lord!" he cried. - -He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval, -then suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge mouthfuls. -For a time we did nothing but eat. - -The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer in -texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we -experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood began -to run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then new and -slightly irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds. - -"Its good," said I. "Infernally good! What a home for our surplus -population! Our poor surplus population," and I broke off another large -portion. It filled me with a curiously benevolent satisfaction that there -was such good food in the moon. The depression of my hunger gave way to an -irrational exhilaration. The dread and discomfort in which I had been -living vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no longer as a planet from -which I most earnestly desired the means of escape, but as a possible -refuge from human destitution. I think I forgot the Selenites, the -mooncalves, the lid, and the noises completely so soon as I had eaten that -fungus. - -Cavor replied to my third repetition of my "surplus population" remark -with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put this -down to the stimulating effect of food after a long fast. "Ess'lent -discov'ry yours, Cavor," said I. "Se'nd on'y to the 'tato." - -"Whajer mean?" asked Cavor. "'Scovery of the moon--se'nd on'y to the -'tato?" - -I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly hoarse voice, and by the badness -of his articulation. It occurred to me in a flash that he was intoxicated, -possibly by the fungus. It also occurred to me that he erred in imagining -that he had discovered the moon; he had not discovered it, he had only -reached it. I tried to lay my hand on his arm and explain this to him, but -the issue was too subtle for his brain. It was also unexpectedly difficult -to express. After a momentary attempt to understand me--I remember -wondering if the fungus had made my eyes as fishy as his--he set off upon -some observations on his own account. - -"We are," he announced with a solemn hiccup, "the creashurs o' what we -eat and drink." - -He repeated this, and as I was now in one of my subtle moods, I determined -to dispute it. Possibly I wandered a little from the point. But Cavor -certainly did not attend at all properly. He stood up as well as he could, -putting a hand on my head to steady himself, which was disrespectful, -and stood staring about him, quite devoid now of any fear of the moon -beings. - -I tried to point out that this was dangerous for some reason that was not -perfectly clear to me, but the word "dangerous" had somehow got mixed with -"indiscreet," and came out rather more like "injurious" than either; and -after an attempt to disentangle them, I resumed my argument, addressing -myself principally to the unfamiliar but attentive coralline growths on -either side. I felt that it was necessary to clear up this confusion -between the moon and a potato at once--I wandered into a long parenthesis -on the importance of precision of definition in argument. I did my best to -ignore the fact that my bodily sensations were no longer agreeable. - -In some way that I have now forgotten, my mind was led back to projects -of colonisation. "We must annex this moon," I said. "There must be -no shilly-shally. This is part of the White Man's Burthen. Cavor--we -are--hic--Satap--mean Satraps! Nempire Caesar never dreamt. B'in all -the newspapers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. Bedfordecia--hic--Limited. -Mean--unlimited! Practically." - -Certainly I was intoxicated. - -I embarked upon an argument to show the infinite benefits our arrival -would confer on the moon. I involved myself in a rather difficult proof -that the arrival of Columbus was, on the whole, beneficial to America. I -found I had forgotten the line of argument I had intended to pursue, and -continued to repeat "sim'lar to C'lumbus," to fill up time. - -From that point my memory of the action of that abominable fungus becomes -confused. I remember vaguely that we declared our intention of standing no -nonsense from any confounded insects, that we decided it ill became men to -hide shamefully upon a mere satellite, that we equipped ourselves with -huge armfuls of the fungus--whether for missile purposes or not I do not -know--and, heedless of the stabs of the bayonet scrub, we started forth -into the sunshine. - -Almost immediately we must have come upon the Selenites. There were six of -them, and they were marching in single file over a rocky place, making the -most remarkable piping and whining sounds. They all seemed to become aware -of us at once, all instantly became silent and motionless, like animals, -with their faces turned towards us. - -For a moment I was sobered. - -"Insects," murmured Cavor, "insects! And they think I'm going to crawl -about on my stomach--on my vertebrated stomach! - -"Stomach," he repeated slowly, as though he chewed the indignity. - -Then suddenly, with a sort of fury, he made three vast strides and leapt -towards them. He leapt badly; he made a series of somersaults in the air, -whirled right over them, and vanished with an enormous splash amidst the -cactus bladders. What the Selenites made of this amazing, and to my mind -undignified irruption from another planet, I have no means of guessing. I -seem to remember the sight of their backs as they ran in all directions, -but I am not sure. All these last incidents before oblivion came are vague -and faint in my mind. I know I made a step to follow Cavor, and tripped -and fell headlong among the rocks. I was, I am certain, suddenly and -vehemently ill. I seem to remember, a violent struggle and being gripped -by metallic clasps.... - -My next clear recollection is that we were prisoners at we knew not what -depths beneath the moon's surface; we were in darkness amidst strange -distracting noises; our bodies were covered with scratches and bruises, -and our heads racked with pain. - - - - - -Chapter 12 - - - - -The Selenite's Face - -I found myself sitting crouched together in a tumultuous darkness. For a -long time I could not understand where I was, nor how I had come to this -perplexity. I thought of the cupboard into which I had been thrust at -times when I was a child, and then of a very dark and noisy bedroom in -which I had slept during an illness. But these sounds about me were not -the noises I had known, and there was a thin flavour in the air like the -wind of a stable. Then I supposed we must still be at work upon the -sphere, and that somehow I had got into the cellar of Cavor's house. I -remembered we had finished the sphere, and fancied I must still be in it -and travelling through space. - -"Cavor," I said, "cannot we have some light?" - -There came no answer. - -"Cavor!" I insisted. - -I was answered by a groan. "My head!" I heard him say; "my head!" - -I attempted to press my hands to my brow, which ached, and discovered they -were tied together. This startled me very much. I brought them up to my -mouth and felt the cold smoothness of metal. They were chained together. I -tried to separate my legs and made out they were similarly fastened, and -also that I was fastened to the ground by a much thicker chain about the -middle of my body. - -I was more frightened than I had yet been by anything in all our strange -experiences. For a time I tugged silently at my bonds. "Cavor!" I cried -out sharply. "Why am I tied? Why have you tied me hand and foot?" - -"I haven't tied you," he answered. "It's the Selenites." - -The Selenites! My mind hung on that for a space. Then my memories came -back to me: the snowy desolation, the thawing of the air, the growth of -the plants, our strange hopping and crawling among the rocks and -vegetation of the crater. All the distress of our frantic search for the -sphere returned to me.... Finally the opening of the great lid that -covered the pit! - -Then as I strained to trace our later movements down to our present -plight, the pain in my head became intolerable. I came to an -insurmountable barrier, an obstinate blank. - -"Cavor!" - -"Yes?" - -"Where are we?" - -"How should I know?" - -"Are we dead?" - -"What nonsense!" - -"They've got us, then!" - -He made no answer but a grunt. The lingering traces of the poison seemed -to make him oddly irritable. - -"What do you mean to do?" - -"How should I know what to do?" - -"Oh, very well!" said I, and became silent. Presently, I was roused from -a stupor. "O Lord!" I cried; "I wish you'd stop that buzzing!" - -We lapsed into silence again, listening to the dull confusion of noises -like the muffled sounds of a street or factory that filled our ears. I -could make nothing of it, my mind pursued first one rhythm and then -another, and questioned it in vain. But after a long time I became aware -of a new and sharper element, not mingling with the rest but standing out, -as it were, against that cloudy background of sound. It was a series of -relatively very little definite sounds, tappings and rubbings, like a -loose spray of ivy against a window or a bird moving about upon a box. We -listened and peered about us, but the darkness was a velvet pall. There -followed a noise like the subtle movement of the wards of a well-oiled -lock. And then there appeared before me, hanging as it seemed in an -immensity of black, a thin bright line. - -"Look!" whispered Cavor very softly. - -"What is it?" - -"I don't know." - -We stared. - -The thin bright line became a band, and broader and paler. It took upon -itself the quality of a bluish light falling upon a white-washed wall. It -ceased to be parallel-sided; it developed a deep indentation on one side. -I turned to remark this to Cavor, and was amazed to see his ear in a -brilliant illumination--all the rest of him in shadow. I twisted my head -round as well as my bonds would permit. "Cavor," I said, "it's behind!" - -His ear vanished--gave place to an eye! - -Suddenly the crack that had been admitting the light broadened out, and -revealed itself as the space of an opening door. Beyond was a sapphire -vista, and in the doorway stood a grotesque outline silhouetted against -the glare. - -We both made convulsive efforts to turn, and failing, sat staring over our -shoulders at this. My first impression was of some clumsy quadruped with -lowered head. Then I perceived it was the slender pinched body and short -and extremely attenuated bandy legs of a Selenite, with his head depressed -between his shoulders. He was without the helmet and body covering they -wear upon the exterior. - -He was a blank, black figure to us, but instinctively our imaginations -supplied features to his very human outline. I, at least, took it -instantly that he was somewhat hunchbacked, with a high forehead and long -features. - -He came forward three steps and paused for a time. His movements seemed -absolutely noiseless. Then he came forward again. He walked like a bird, -his feet fell one in front of the other. He stepped out of the ray of -light that came through the doorway, and it seemed as though he vanished -altogether in the shadow. - -For a moment my eyes sought him in the wrong place, and then I perceived -him standing facing us both in the full light. Only the human features I -had attributed to him were not there at all! - -Of course I ought to have expected that, only I didn't. It came to me as -an absolute, for a moment an overwhelming shock. It seemed as though it -wasn't a face, as though it must needs be a mask, a horror, a deformity, -that would presently be disavowed or explained. There was no nose, and the -thing had dull bulging eyes at the side--in the silhouette I had supposed -they were ears. There were no ears.... I have tried to draw one of these -heads, but I cannot. There was a mouth, downwardly curved, like a human -mouth in a face that stares ferociously.... - -The neck on which the head was poised was jointed in three places, almost -like the short joints in the leg of a crab. The joints of the limbs I -could not see, because of the puttee-like straps in which they were -swathed, and which formed the only clothing the being wore. - -There the thing was, looking at us! - -At the time my mind was taken up by the mad impossibility of the creature. -I suppose he also was amazed, and with more reason, perhaps, for amazement -than we. Only, confound him! he did not show it. We did at least know what -had brought about this meeting of incompatible creatures. But conceive how -it would seem to decent Londoners, for example, to come upon a couple of -living things, as big as men and absolutely unlike any other earthly -animals, careering about among the sheep in Hyde Park! It must have taken -him like that. - -Figure us! We were bound hand and foot, fagged and filthy; our beards two -inches long, our faces scratched and bloody. Cavor you must imagine in his -knickerbockers (torn in several places by the bayonet scrub) his Jaegar -shirt and old cricket cap, his wiry hair wildly disordered, a tail to -every quarter of the heavens. In that blue light his face did not look red -but very dark, his lips and the drying blood upon my hands seemed black. -If possible I was in a worse plight than he, on account of the yellow -fungus into which I had jumped. Our jackets were unbuttoned, and our shoes -had been taken off and lay at our feet. And we were sitting with our backs -to this queer bluish light, peering at such a monster as Durer might have -invented. - -Cavor broke the silence; started to speak, went hoarse, and cleared his -throat. Outside began a terrific bellowing, as if a mooncalf were in -trouble. It ended in a shriek, and everything was still again. - -Presently the Selenite turned about, flickered into the shadow, stood for -a moment retrospective at the door, and then closed it on us; and once -more we were in that murmurous mystery of darkness into which we had -awakened. - - - - - -Chapter 13 - - - - -Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions - -For a time neither of us spoke. To focus together all the things we had -brought upon ourselves seemed beyond my mental powers. - -"They've got us," I said at last. - -"It was that fungus." - -"Well--if I hadn't taken it we should have fainted and starved." - -"We might have found the sphere." - -I lost my temper at his persistence, and swore to myself. For a time we -hated one another in silence. I drummed with my fingers on the floor -between my knees, and gritted the links of my fetters together. Presently -I was forced to talk again. - -"What do you make of it, anyhow?" I asked humbly. - -"They are reasonable creatures--they can make things and do things. -Those lights we saw..." - -He stopped. It was clear he could make nothing of it. - -When he spoke again it was to confess, "After all, they are more human -than we had a right to expect. I suppose--" - -He stopped irritatingly. - -"Yes?" - -"I suppose, anyhow--on any planet where there is an intelligent animal--it -will carry its brain case upward, and have hands, and walk erect." - -Presently he broke away in another direction. - -"We are some way in," he said. "I mean--perhaps a couple of thousand feet -or more." - -"Why?" - -"It's cooler. And our voices are so much louder. That faded quality--it -has altogether gone. And the feeling in one's ears and throat." - -I had not noted that, but I did now. - -"The air is denser. We must be some depths--a mile even, we may -be--inside the moon." - -"We never thought of a world inside the moon." - -"No." - -"How could we?" - -"We might have done. Only one gets into habits of mind." - -He thought for a time. - -"Now," he said, "it seems such an obvious thing." - -"Of course! The moon must be enormously cavernous, with an atmosphere -within, and at the centre of its caverns a sea. - -"One knew that the moon had a lower specific gravity than the earth, one -knew that it had little air or water outside, one knew, too, that it was -sister planet to the earth, and that it was unaccountable that it should -be different in composition. The inference that it was hollowed out was as -clear as day. And yet one never saw it as a fact. Kepler, of course--" - -His voice had the interest now of a man who has discerned a pretty -sequence of reasoning. - -"Yes," he said, "Kepler with his sub-volvani was right after all." - -"I wish you had taken the trouble to find that out before we came," -I said. - -He answered nothing, buzzing to himself softly, as he pursued his -thoughts. My temper was going. - -"What do you think has become of the sphere, anyhow?" I asked. - -"Lost," he said, like a man who answers an uninteresting question. - -"Among those plants?" - -"Unless they find it." - -"And then?" - -"How can I tell?" - -"Cavor," I said, with a sort of hysterical bitterness, "things look bright -for my Company..." - -He made no answer. - -"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "Just think of all the trouble we took to get -into this pickle! What did we come for? What are we after? What was the -moon to us or we to the moon? We wanted too much, we tried too much. We -ought to have started the little things first. It was you proposed the -moon! Those Cavorite spring blinds! I am certain we could have worked them -for terrestrial purposes. Certain! Did you really understand what I -proposed? A steel cylinder--" - -"Rubbish!" said Cavor. - -We ceased to converse. - -For a time Cavor kept up a broken monologue without much help from me. - -"If they find it," he began, "if they find it ... what will they do with -it? Well, that's a question. It may be that's _the_ question. They won't -understand it, anyhow. If they understood that sort of thing they would -have come long since to the earth. Would they? Why shouldn't they? But -they would have sent something--they couldn't keep their hands off such a -possibility. No! But they will examine it. Clearly they are intelligent -and inquisitive. They will examine it--get inside it--trifle with the -studs. Off! ... That would mean the moon for us for all the rest of our -lives. Strange creatures, strange knowledge...." - -"As for strange knowledge--" said I, and language failed me. - -"Look here, Bedford," said Cavor, "you came on this expedition of your own -free will." - -"You said to me, 'Call it prospecting'." - -"There's always risks in prospecting." - -"Especially when you do it unarmed and without thinking out every -possibility." - -"I was so taken up with the sphere. The thing rushed on us, and carried us -away." - -"Rushed on _me_, you mean." - -"Rushed on me just as much. How was I to know when I set to work on -molecular physics that the business would bring me here--of all places?" - -"It's this accursed science," I cried. "It's the very Devil. The medieval -priests and persecutors were right and the Moderns are all wrong. You -tamper with it--and it offers you gifts. And directly you take them it -knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way. Old passions and new -weapons--now it upsets your religion, now it upsets your social ideas, -now it whirls you off to desolation and misery!" - -"Anyhow, it's no use your quarrelling with me now. These creatures--these -Selenites, or whatever we choose to call them--have got us tied -hand and foot. Whatever temper you choose to go through with it in, you -will have to go through with it.... We have experiences before us that -will need all our coolness." - -He paused as if he required my assent. But I sat sulking. "Confound your -science!" I said. - -"The problem is communication. Gestures, I fear, will be different. -Pointing, for example. No creatures but men and monkeys point." - -That was too obviously wrong for me. "Pretty nearly every animal," I -cried, "points with its eyes or nose." - -Cavor meditated over that. "Yes," he said at last, "and we don't. There's -such differences--such differences!" - -"One might.... But how can I tell? There is speech. The sounds they make, -a sort of fluting and piping. I don't see how we are to imitate that. Is -it their speech, that sort of thing? They may have different senses, -different means of communication. Of course they are minds and we are -minds; there must be something in common. Who knows how far we may not get -to an understanding?" - -"The things are outside us," I said. "They're more different from us than -the strangest animals on earth. They are a different clay. What is the -good of talking like this?" - -Cavor thought. "I don't see that. Where there are minds they will have -something similar--even though they have been evolved on different -planets. Of course if it was a question of instincts, if we or they are -no more than animals--" - -"Well, are they? They're much more like ants on their hind legs than human -beings, and who ever got to any sort of understanding with ants?" - -"But these machines and clothing! No, I don't hold with you, Bedford. The -difference is wide--" - -"It's insurmountable." - -"The resemblance must bridge it. I remember reading once a paper by the -late Professor Galton on the possibility of communication between the -planets. Unhappily, at that time it did not seem probable that that would -be of any material benefit to me, and I fear I did not give it the -attention I should have done--in view of this state of affairs. Yet.... -Now, let me see! - -"His idea was to begin with those broad truths that must underlie all -conceivable mental existences and establish a basis on those. The great -principles of geometry, to begin with. He proposed to take some leading -proposition of Euclid's, and show by construction that its truth was known -to us, to demonstrate, for example, that the angles at the base of an -isosceles triangle are equal, and that if the equal sides be produced the -angles on the other side of the base are equal also, or that the square on -the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the -squares on the two other sides. By demonstrating our knowledge of these -things we should demonstrate our possession of a reasonable -intelligence.... Now, suppose I ... I might draw the geometrical figure -with a wet finger, or even trace it in the air...." - -He fell silent. I sat meditating his words. For a time his wild hope of -communication, of interpretation, with these weird beings held me. Then -that angry despair that was a part of my exhaustion and physical misery -resumed its sway. I perceived with a sudden novel vividness the -extraordinary folly of everything I had ever done. "Ass!" I said; "oh, -ass, unutterable ass.... I seem to exist only to go about doing -preposterous things. Why did we ever leave the thing? ... Hopping about -looking for patents and concessions in the craters of the moon!... If only -we had had the sense to fasten a handkerchief to a stick to show where we -had left the sphere!" - -I subsided, fuming. - -"It is clear," meditated Cavor, "they are intelligent. One can -hypothecate certain things. As they have not killed us at once, they -must have ideas of mercy. Mercy! at any rate of restraint. Possibly of -intercourse. They may meet us. And this apartment and the glimpses we had -of its guardian. These fetters! A high degree of intelligence..." - -"I wish to heaven," cried I, "I'd thought even twice! Plunge after plunge. -First one fluky start and then another. It was my confidence in you! Why -didn't I stick to my play? That was what I was equal to. That was my -world and the life I was made for. I could have finished that play. I'm -certain ... it was a good play. I had the scenario as good as done. -Then.... Conceive it! leaping to the moon! Practically--I've thrown my -life away! That old woman in the inn near Canterbury had better sense." - -I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. The darkness had given place to -that bluish light again. The door was opening, and several noiseless -Selenites were coming into the chamber. I became quite still, staring at -their grotesque faces. - -Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable strangeness changed to interest. I -perceived that the foremost and second carried bowls. One elemental need -at least our minds could understand in common. They were bowls of some -metal that, like our fetters, looked dark in that bluish light; and each -contained a number of whitish fragments. All the cloudy pain and misery -that oppressed me rushed together and took the shape of hunger. I eyed -these bowls wolfishly, and, though it returned to me in dreams, at that -time it seemed a small matter that at the end of the arms that lowered one -towards me were not hands, but a sort of flap and thumb, like the end of -an elephant's trunk. The stuff in the bowl was loose in texture, and -whitish brown in colour--rather like lumps of some cold souffle, and it -smelt faintly like mushrooms. From a partially divided carcass of a -mooncalf that we presently saw, I am inclined to believe it must have been -mooncalf flesh. - -My hands were so tightly chained that I could barely contrive to reach the -bowl; but when they saw the effort I made, two of them dexterously -released one of the turns about my wrist. Their tentacle hands were soft -and cold to my skin. I immediately seized a mouthful of the food. It had -the same laxness in texture that all organic structures seem to have upon -the moon; it tasted rather like a gauffre or a damp meringue, but in no -way was it disagreeable. I took two other mouthfuls. "I wanted--foo'!" -said I, tearing off a still larger piece.... - -For a time we ate with an utter absence of self-consciousness. We ate and -presently drank like tramps in a soup kitchen. Never before nor since have -I been hungry to the ravenous pitch, and save that I have had this very -experience I could never have believed that, a quarter of a million of -miles out of our proper world, in utter perplexity of soul, surrounded, -watched, touched by beings more grotesque and inhuman than the worst -creations of a nightmare, it would be possible for me to eat in utter -forgetfulness of all these things. They stood about us watching us, and -ever and again making a slight elusive twittering that stood, I suppose, -in the stead of speech. I did not even shiver at their touch. And when the -first zeal of my feeding was over, I could note that Cavor, too, had been -eating with the same shameless abandon. - - - - - -Chapter 14 - - - - -Experiments in intercourse - -When at last we had made an end of eating, the Selenites linked our hands -closely together again, and then untwisted the chains about our feet and -rebound them, so as to give us a limited freedom of movement. Then they -unfastened the chains about our waists. To do all this they had to handle -us freely, and ever and again one of their queer heads came down close to -my face, or a soft tentacle-hand touched my head or neck. I don't remember -that I was afraid then or repelled by their proximity. I think that our -incurable anthropomorphism made us imagine there were human heads inside -their masks. The skin, like everything else, looked bluish, but that was -on account of the light; and it was hard and shiny, quite in the -beetle-wing fashion, not soft, or moist, or hairy, as a vertebrated -animal's would be. Along the crest of the head was a low ridge of whitish -spines running from back to front, and a much larger ridge curved on -either side over the eyes. The Selenite who untied me used his mouth to -help his hands. - -"They seem to be releasing us," said Cavor. "Remember we are on the moon! -Make no sudden movements!" - -"Are you going to try that geometry?" - -"If I get a chance. But, of course, they may make an advance first." - -We remained passive, and the Selenites, having finished their -arrangements, stood back from us, and seemed to be looking at us. I say -seemed to be, because as their eyes were at the side and not in front, one -had the same difficulty in determining the direction in which they were -looking as one has in the case of a hen or a fish. They conversed with one -another in their reedy tones, that seemed to me impossible to imitate or -define. The door behind us opened wider, and, glancing over my shoulder, I -saw a vague large space beyond, in which quite a little crowd of Selenites -were standing. They seemed a curiously miscellaneous rabble. - -"Do they want us to imitate those sounds?" I asked Cavor. - -"I don't think so," he said. - -"It seems to me that they are trying to make us understand something." - -"I can't make anything of their gestures. Do you notice this one, who is -worrying with his head like a man with an uncomfortable collar?" - -"Let us shake our heads at him." - -We did that, and finding it ineffectual, attempted an imitation of the -Selenites' movements. That seemed to interest them. At any rate they all -set up the same movement. But as that seemed to lead to nothing, we -desisted at last and so did they, and fell into a piping argument among -themselves. Then one of them, shorter and very much thicker than the -others, and with a particularly wide mouth, squatted down suddenly beside -Cavor, and put his hands and feet in the same posture as Cavor's were -bound, and then by a dexterous movement stood up. - -"Cavor," I shouted, "they want us to get up!" - -He stared open-mouthed. "That's it!" he said. - -And with much heaving and grunting, because our hands were tied together, -we contrived to struggle to our feet. The Selenites made way for our -elephantine heavings, and seemed to twitter more volubly. As soon as we -were on our feet the thick-set Selenite came and patted each of our faces -with his tentacles, and walked towards the open doorway. That also was -plain enough, and we followed him. We saw that four of the Selenites -standing in the doorway were much taller than the others, and clothed in -the same manner as those we had seen in the crater, namely, with spiked -round helmets and cylindrical body-cases, and that each of the four -carried a goad with spike and guard made of that same dull-looking metal -as the bowls. These four closed about us, one on either side of each of -us, as we emerged from our chamber into the cavern from which the light -had come. - -We did not get our impression of that cavern all at once. Our attention -was taken up by the movements and attitudes of the Selenites immediately -about us, and by the necessity of controlling our motion, lest we should -startle and alarm them and ourselves by some excessive stride. In front of -us was the short, thick-set being who had solved the problem of asking us -to get up, moving with gestures that seemed, almost all of them, -intelligible to us, inviting us to follow him. His spout-like face turned -from one of us to the other with a quickness that was clearly -interrogative. For a time, I say, we were taken up with these things. - -But at last the great place that formed a background to our movements -asserted itself. It became apparent that the source of much, at least, of -the tumult of sounds which had filled our ears ever since we had recovered -from the stupefaction of the fungus was a vast mass of machinery in active -movement, whose flying and whirling parts were visible indistinctly over -the heads and between the bodies of the Selenites who walked about us. And -not only did the web of sounds that filled the air proceed from this -mechanism, but also the peculiar blue light that irradiated the whole -place. We had taken it as a natural thing that a subterranean cavern -should be artificially lit, and even now, though the fact was patent to my -eyes, I did not really grasp its import until presently the darkness came. -The meaning and structure of this huge apparatus we saw I cannot explain, -because we neither of us learnt what it was for or how it worked. One -after another, big shafts of metal flung out and up from its centre, their -heads travelling in what seemed to me to be a parabolic path; each dropped -a sort of dangling arm as it rose towards the apex of its flight and -plunged down into a vertical cylinder, forcing this down before it. About -it moved the shapes of tenders, little figures that seemed vaguely -different from the beings about us. As each of the three dangling arms of -the machine plunged down, there was a clank and then a roaring, and out of -the top of the vertical cylinder came pouring this incandescent substance -that lit the place, and ran over as milk runs over a boiling pot, and -dripped luminously into a tank of light below. It was a cold blue light, a -sort of phosphorescent glow but infinitely brighter, and from the tanks -into which it fell it ran in conduits athwart the cavern. - -Thud, thud, thud, thud, came the sweeping arms of this unintelligible -apparatus, and the light substance hissed and poured. At first the thing -seemed only reasonably large and near to us, and then I saw how -exceedingly little the Selenites upon it seemed, and I realised the full -immensity of cavern and machine. I looked from this tremendous affair to -the faces of the Selenites with a new respect. I stopped, and Cavor -stopped, and stared at this thunderous engine. - -"But this is stupendous!" I said. "What can it be for?" - -Cavor's blue-lit face was full of an intelligent respect. "I can't dream! -Surely these beings-- Men could not make a thing like that! Look at those -arms, are they on connecting rods?" - -The thick-set Selenite had gone some paces unheeded. He came back and -stood between us and the great machine. I avoided seeing him, because I -guessed somehow that his idea was to beckon us onward. He walked away in -the direction he wished us to go, and turned and came back, and flicked -our faces to attract our attention. - -Cavor and I looked at one another. - -"Cannot we show him we are interested in the machine?" I said. - -"Yes," said Cavor. "We'll try that." He turned to our guide and smiled, -and pointed to the machine, and pointed again, and then to his head, and -then to the machine. By some defect of reasoning he seemed to imagine that -broken English might help these gestures. "Me look 'im," he said, "me -think 'im very much. Yes." - -His behaviour seemed to check the Selenites in their desire for our -progress for a moment. They faced one another, their queer heads moved, -the twittering voices came quick and liquid. Then one of them, a lean, -tall creature, with a sort of mantle added to the puttee in which the -others were dressed, twisted his elephant trunk of a hand about Cavor's -waist, and pulled him gently to follow our guide, who again went on ahead. -Cavor resisted. "We may just as well begin explaining ourselves now. They -may think we are new animals, a new sort of mooncalf perhaps! It is most -important that we should show an intelligent interest from the outset." - -He began to shake his head violently. "No, no," he said, "me not come on -one minute. Me look at 'im." - -"Isn't there some geometrical point you might bring in apropos of that -affair?" I suggested, as the Selenites conferred again. - -"Possibly a parabolic--" he began. - -He yelled loudly, and leaped six feet or more! - -One of the four armed moon-men had pricked him with a goad! - -I turned on the goad-bearer behind me with a swift threatening gesture, -and he started back. This and Cavor's sudden shout and leap clearly -astonished all the Selenites. They receded hastily, facing us. For one of -those moments that seem to last for ever, we stood in angry protest, with -a scattered semicircle of these inhuman beings about us. - -"He pricked me!" said Cavor, with a catching of the voice. - -"I saw him," I answered. - -"Confound it!" I said to the Selenites; "we're not going to stand that! -What on earth do you take us for?" - -I glanced quickly right and left. Far away across the blue wilderness of -cavern I saw a number of other Selenites running towards us; broad and -slender they were, and one with a larger head than the others. The cavern -spread wide and low, and receded in every direction into darkness. Its -roof, I remember, seemed to bulge down as if with the weight of the vast -thickness of rocks that prisoned us. There was no way out of it--no way -out of it. Above, below, in every direction, was the unknown, and these -inhuman creatures, with goads and gestures, confronting us, and we two -unsupported men! - - - - - -Chapter 15 - - - - -The Giddy Bridge - -Just for a moment that hostile pause endured. I suppose that both we and -the Selenites did some very rapid thinking. My clearest impression was -that there was nothing to put my back against, and that we were bound to -be surrounded and killed. The overwhelming folly of our presence there -loomed over me in black, enormous reproach. Why had I ever launched -myself on this mad, inhuman expedition? - -Cavor came to my side and laid his hand on my arm. His pale and terrified -face was ghastly in the blue light. - -"We can't do anything," he said. "It's a mistake. They don't understand. -We must go. As they want us to go." - -I looked down at him, and then at the fresh Selenites who were coming to -help their fellows. "If I had my hands free--" - -"It's no use," he panted. - -"No." - -"We'll go." - -And he turned about and led the way in the direction that had been -indicated for us. - -I followed, trying to look as subdued as possible, and feeling at the -chains about my wrists. My blood was boiling. I noted nothing more of that -cavern, though it seemed to take a long time before we had marched across -it, or if I noted anything I forgot it as I saw it. My thoughts were -concentrated, I think, upon my chains and the Selenites, and particularly -upon the helmeted ones with the goads. At first they marched parallel with -us, and at a respectful distance, but presently they were overtaken by -three others, and then they drew nearer, until they were within arms -length again. I winced like a beaten horse as they came near to us. The -shorter, thicker Selenite marched at first on our right flank, but -presently came in front of us again. - -How well the picture of that grouping has bitten into my brain; the back -of Cavor's downcast head just in front of me, and the dejected droop of -his shoulders, and our guide's gaping visage, perpetually jerking about -him, and the goad-bearers on either side, watchful, yet open-mouthed--a -blue monochrome. And after all, I do remember one other thing besides the -purely personal affair, which is, that a sort of gutter came presently -across the floor of the cavern, and then ran along by the side of the path -of rock we followed. And it was full of that same bright blue luminous -stuff that flowed out of the great machine. I walked close beside it, and -I can testify it radiated not a particle of heat. It was brightly shining, -and yet it was neither warmer nor colder than anything else in the cavern. - -Clang, clang, clang, we passed right under the thumping levers of another -vast machine, and so came at last to a wide tunnel, in which we could even -hear the pad, pad, of our shoeless feet, and which, save for the trickling -thread of blue to the right of us, was quite unlit. The shadows made -gigantic travesties of our shapes and those of the Selenites on the -irregular wall and roof of the tunnel. Ever and again crystals in the -walls of the tunnel scintillated like gems, ever and again the tunnel -expanded into a stalactitic cavern, or gave off branches that vanished -into darkness. - -We seemed to be marching down that tunnel for a long time. "Trickle, -trickle," went the flowing light very softly, and our footfalls and their -echoes made an irregular paddle, paddle. My mind settled down to the -question of my chains. If I were to slip off one turn _so_, and then to -twist it _so_ ... - -If I tried to do it very gradually, would they see I was slipping my wrist -out of the looser turn? If they did, what would they do? - -"Bedford," said Cavor, "it goes down. It keeps on going down." - -His remark roused me from my sullen pre-occupation. - -"If they wanted to kill us," he said, dropping back to come level with me, -"there is no reason why they should not have done it." - -"No," I admitted, "that's true." - -"They don't understand us," he said, "they think we are merely strange -animals, some wild sort of mooncalf birth, perhaps. It will be only -when they have observed us better that they will begin to think we -have minds--" - -"When you trace those geometrical problems," said I. - -"It may be that." - -We tramped on for a space. - -"You see," said Cavor, "these may be Selenites of a lower class." - -"The infernal fools!" said I viciously, glancing at their exasperating -faces. - -"If we endure what they do to us--" - -"We've got to endure it," said I. - -"There may be others less stupid. This is the mere outer fringe of their -world. It must go down and down, cavern, passage, tunnel, down at last to -the sea--hundreds of miles below." - -His words made me think of the mile or so of rock and tunnel that might be -over our heads already. It was like a weight dropping, on my shoulders. -"Away from the sun and air," I said. "Even a mine half a mile deep is -stuffy." - -"This is not, anyhow. It's probable--Ventilation! The air would blow -from the dark side of the moon to the sunlit, and all the carbonic acid -would well out there and feed those plants. Up this tunnel, for example, -there is quite a breeze. And what a world it must be. The earnest we have -in that shaft, and those machines--" - -"And the goad," I said. "Don't forget the goad!" - -He walked a little in front of me for a time. - -"Even that goad--" he said. - -"Well?" - -"I was angry at the time. But--it was perhaps necessary we should get on. -They have different skins, and probably different nerves. They may not -understand our objection--just as a being from Mars might not like our -earthly habit of nudging." - -"They'd better be careful how they nudge me." - -"And about that geometry. After all, their way is a way of understanding, -too. They begin with the elements of life and not of thought. Food. -Compulsion. Pain. They strike at fundamentals." - -"There's no doubt about that," I said. - -He went on to talk of the enormous and wonderful world into which we were -being taken. I realised slowly from his tone, that even now he was not -absolutely in despair at the prospect of going ever deeper into this -inhuman planet-burrow. His mind ran on machines and invention, to the -exclusion of a thousand dark things that beset me. It wasn't that he -intended to make any use of these things, he simply wanted to know them. - -"After all," he said, "this is a tremendous occasion. It is the meeting -of two worlds! What are we going to see? Think of what is below us here." - -"We shan't see much if the light isn't better," I remarked. - -"This is only the outer crust. Down below-- On this scale-- There will -be everything. Do you notice how different they seem one from another? -The story we shall take back!" - -"Some rare sort of animal," I said, "might comfort himself in that way -while they were bringing him to the Zoo.... It doesn't follow that we are -going to be shown all these things." - -"When they find we have reasonable minds," said Cavor, "they will want to -learn about the earth. Even if they have no generous emotions, they will -teach in order to learn.... And the things they must know! The -unanticipated things!" - -He went on to speculate on the possibility of their knowing things he had -never hoped to learn on earth, speculating in that way, with a raw wound -from that goad already in his skin! Much that he said I forget, for my -attention was drawn to the fact that the tunnel along which we had been -marching was opening out wider and wider. We seemed, from the feeling of -the air, to be going out into a huge space. But how big the space might -really be we could not tell, because it was unlit. Our little stream of -light ran in a dwindling thread and vanished far ahead. Presently the -rocky walls had vanished altogether on either hand. There was nothing to -be seen but the path in front of us and the trickling hurrying rivulet of -blue phosphorescence. The figures of Cavor and the guiding Selenite -marched before me, the sides of their legs and heads that were towards the -rivulet were clear and bright blue, their darkened sides, now that the -reflection of the tunnel wall no longer lit them, merged indistinguishably -in the darkness beyond. - -And soon I perceived that we were approaching a declivity of some sort, -because the little blue stream dipped suddenly out of sight. - -In another moment, as it seemed, we had reached the edge. The shining -stream gave one meander of hesitation and then rushed over. It fell to a -depth at which the sound of its descent was absolutely lost to us. Far -below was a bluish glow, a sort of blue mist--at an infinite distance -below. And the darkness the stream dropped out of became utterly void and -black, save that a thing like a plank projected from the edge of the cliff -and stretched out and faded and vanished altogether. There was a warm air -blowing up out of the gulf. - -For a moment I and Cavor stood as near the edge as we dared, peering into -a blue-tinged profundity. And then our guide was pulling at my arm. - -Then he left me, and walked to the end of that plank and stepped upon it, -looking back. Then when he perceived we watched him, he turned about and -went on along it, walking as surely as though he was on firm earth. For a -moment his form was distinct, then he became a blue blur, and then -vanished into the obscurity. I became aware of some vague shape looming -darkly out of the black. - -There was a pause. "Surely!--" said Cavor. - -One of the other Selenites walked a few paces out upon the plank, and -turned and looked back at us unconcernedly. The others stood ready to -follow after us. Our guide's expectant figure reappeared. He was returning -to see why we had not advanced. - -"What is that beyond there?" I asked. - -"I can't see." - -"We can't cross this at any price," said I. - -"I could not go three steps on it," said Cavor, "even with my hands free." - -We looked at each other's drawn faces in blank consternation. - -"They can't know what it is to be giddy!" said Cavor. - -"It's quite impossible for us to walk that plank." - -"I don't believe they see as we do. I've been watching them. I wonder if -they know this is simply blackness for us. How can we make them -understand?" - -"Anyhow, we must make them understand." - -I think we said these things with a vague half hope the Selenites might -somehow understand. I knew quite clearly that all that was needed was an -explanation. Then as I saw their faces, I realised that an explanation was -impossible. Just here it was that our resemblances were not going to -bridge our differences. Well, I wasn't going to walk the plank, anyhow. I -slipped my wrist very quickly out of the coil of chain that was loose, and -then began to twist my wrists in opposite directions. I was standing -nearest to the bridge, and as I did this two of the Selenites laid hold of -me, and pulled me gently towards it. - -I shook my head violently. "No go," I said, "no use. You don't -understand." - -Another Selenite added his compulsion. I was forced to step forward. - -"I've got an idea," said Cavor; but I knew his ideas. - -"Look here!" I exclaimed to the Selenites. "Steady on! It's all very well -for you--" - -I sprang round upon my heel. I burst out into curses. For one of the armed -Selenites had stabbed me behind with his goad. - -I wrenched my wrists free from the little tentacles that held them. I -turned on the goad-bearer. "Confound you!" I cried. "I've warned you of -that. What on earth do you think I'm made of, to stick that into me? If -you touch me again--" - -By way of answer he pricked me forthwith. - -I heard Cavor's voice in alarm and entreaty. Even then I think he wanted -to compromise with these creatures. "I say, Bedford," he cried, "I know a -way!" But the sting of that second stab seemed to set free some pent-up -reserve of energy in my being. Instantly the link of the wrist-chain -snapped, and with it snapped all considerations that had held us -unresisting in the hands of these moon creatures. For that second, at -least, I was mad with fear and anger. I took no thought of consequences. -I hit straight out at the face of the thing with the goad. The chain was -twisted round my fist. - -There came another of these beastly surprises of which the moon world is -full. - -My mailed hand seemed to go clean through him. He smashed like--like -some softish sort of sweet with liquid in it! He broke right in! He -squelched and splashed. It was like hitting a damp toadstool. The flimsy -body went spinning a dozen yards, and fell with a flabby impact. I was -astonished. I was incredulous that any living thing could be so flimsy. -For an instant I could have believed the whole thing a dream. - -Then it had become real and imminent again. Neither Cavor nor the other -Selenites seemed to have done anything from the time when I had turned -about to the time when the dead Selenite hit the ground. Every one stood -back from us two, every one alert. That arrest seemed to last at least a -second after the Selenite was down. Every one must have been taking the -thing in. I seem to remember myself standing with my arm half retracted, -trying also to take it in. "What next?" clamoured my brain; "what next?" -Then in a moment every one was moving! - -I perceived we must get our chains loose, and that before we could do this -these Selenites had to be beaten off. I faced towards the group of the -three goad-bearers. Instantly one threw his goad at me. It swished over -my head, and I suppose went flying into the abyss behind. - -I leaped right at him with all my might as the goad flew over me. He -turned to run as I jumped, and I bore him to the ground, came down right -upon him, and slipped upon his smashed body and fell. He seemed to wriggle -under my foot. - -I came into a sitting position, and on every hand the blue backs of the -Selenites were receding into the darkness. I bent a link by main force and -untwisted the chain that had hampered me about the ankles, and sprang to -my feet, with the chain in my hand. Another goad, flung javelin-wise, -whistled by me, and I made a rush towards the darkness out of which it had -come. Then I turned back towards Cavor, who was still standing in the -light of the rivulet near the gulf convulsively busy with his wrists, and -at the same time jabbering nonsense about his idea. - -"Come on!" I cried. - -"My hands!" he answered. - -Then, realising that I dared not run back to him, because my -ill-calculated steps might carry me over the edge, he came shuffling -towards me, with his hands held out before him. - -I gripped his chains at once to unfasten them. - -"Where are they?" he panted. - -"Run away. They'll come back. They're throwing things! Which way shall we -go?" - -"By the light. To that tunnel. Eh?" - -"Yes," said I, and his hands were free. - -I dropped on my knees and fell to work on his ankle bonds. Whack came -something--I know not what--and splashed the livid streamlet into drops -about us. Far away on our right a piping and whistling began. - -I whipped the chain off his feet, and put it in his hand. "Hit with that!" -I said, and without waiting for an answer, set off in big bounds along -the path by which we had come. I had a nasty sort of feeling that these -things could jump out of the darkness on to my back. I heard the impact of -his leaps come following after me. - -We ran in vast strides. But that running, you must understand, was an -altogether different thing from any running on earth. On earth one leaps -and almost instantly hits the ground again, but on the moon, because of -its weaker pull, one shot through the air for several seconds before one -came to earth. In spite of our violent hurry this gave an effect of long -pauses, pauses in which one might have counted seven or eight. "Step," -and one soared off! All sorts of questions ran through my mind: "Where are -the Selenites? What will they do? Shall we ever get to that tunnel? Is -Cavor far behind? Are they likely to cut him off?" Then whack, stride, and -off again for another step. - -I saw a Selenite running in front of me, his legs going exactly as a man's -would go on earth, saw him glance over his shoulder, and heard him shriek -as he ran aside out of my way into the darkness. He was, I think, our -guide, but I am not sure. Then in another vast stride the walls of rock -had come into view on either hand, and in two more strides I was in the -tunnel, and tempering my pace to its low roof. I went on to a bend, then -stopped and turned back, and plug, plug, plug, Cavor came into view, -splashing into the stream of blue light at every stride, and grew larger -and blundered into me. We stood clutching each other. For a moment, at -least, we had shaken off our captors and were alone. - -We were both very much out of breath. We spoke in panting, broken -sentences. - -"You've spoilt it all!" panted Cavor. "Nonsense," I cried. "It was that -or death!" - -"What are we to do?" - -"Hide." - -"How can we?" - -"It's dark enough." - -"But where?" - -"Up one of these side caverns." - -"And then?" - -"Think." - -"Right--come on." - -We strode on, and presently came to a radiating dark cavern. Cavor was in -front. He hesitated, and chose a black mouth that seemed to promise good -hiding. He went towards it and turned. - -"It's dark," he said. - -"Your legs and feet will light us. You're wet with that luminous stuff." - -"But--" - -A tumult of sounds, and in particular a sound like a clanging gong, -advancing up the main tunnel, became audible. It was horribly suggestive -of a tumultuous pursuit. We made a bolt for the unlit side cavern -forthwith. As we ran along it our way was lit by the irradiation of -Cavor's legs. "It's lucky," I panted, "they took off our boots, or we -should fill this place with clatter." On we rushed, taking as small steps -as we could to avoid striking the roof of the cavern. After a time we -seemed to be gaining on the uproar. It became muffled, it dwindled, it -died away. - -I stopped and looked back, and I heard the pad, pad of Cavor's feet -receding. Then he stopped also. "Bedford," he whispered; "there's a sort -of light in front of us." - -I looked, and at first could see nothing. Then I perceived his head and -shoulders dimly outlined against a fainter darkness. I saw, also, that -this mitigation of the darkness was not blue, as all the other light -within the moon had been, but a pallid gray, a very vague, faint white, -the daylight colour. Cavor noted this difference as soon, or sooner, than -I did, and I think, too, that it filled him with much the same wild hope. - -"Bedford," he whispered, and his voice trembled. "That light--it is -possible--" - -He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. Then came a pause. Suddenly I -knew by the sound of his feet that he was striding towards that pallor. I -followed him with a beating heart. - - - - - -Chapter 16 - - - - -Points of View - -The light grew stronger as we advanced. In a little time it was nearly as -strong as the phosphorescence on Cavor's legs. Our tunnel was expanding -into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of it. I -perceived something that set my hopes leaping and bounding. - -"Cavor," I said, "it comes from above! I am certain it comes from above!" - -He made no answer, but hurried on. - -Indisputably it was a gray light, a silvery light. - -In another moment we were beneath it. It filtered down through a chink in -the walls of the cavern, and as I stared up, drip, came a drop of water -upon my face. I started and stood aside--drip, fell another drop quite -audibly on the rocky floor. - -"Cavor," I said, "if one of us lifts the other, he can reach that crack!" - -"I'll lift you," he said, and incontinently hoisted me as though I was a -baby. - -I thrust an arm into the crack, and just at my finger tips found a little -ledge by which I could hold. I could see the white light was very much -brighter now. I pulled myself up by two fingers with scarcely an effort, -though on earth I weigh twelve stone, reached to a still higher corner of -rock, and so got my feet on the narrow ledge. I stood up and searched up -the rocks with my fingers; the cleft broadened out upwardly. "It's -climbable," I said to Cavor. "Can you jump up to my hand if I hold it down -to you?" - -I wedged myself between the sides of the cleft, rested knee and foot on -the ledge, and extended a hand. I could not see Cavor, but I could hear -the rustle of his movements as he crouched to spring. Then whack and he -was hanging to my arm--and no heavier than a kitten! I lugged him up -until he had a hand on my ledge, and could release me. - -"Confound it!" I said, "any one could be a mountaineer on the moon;" and -so set myself in earnest to the climbing. For a few minutes I clambered -steadily, and then I looked up again. The cleft opened out steadily, and -the light was brighter. Only-- - -It was not daylight after all. - -In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could have -beaten my head against the rocks with disappointment. For I beheld simply -an irregularly sloping open space, and all over its slanting floor stood a -forest of little club-shaped fungi, each shining gloriously with that -pinkish silvery light. For a moment I stared at their soft radiance, then -sprang forward and upward among them. I plucked up half a dozen and flung -them against the rocks, and then sat down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor's -ruddy face came into view. - -"It's phosphorescence again!" I said. "No need to hurry. Sit down and make -yourself at home." And as he spluttered over our disappointment, I began -to lob more of these growths into the cleft. - -"I thought it was daylight," he said. - -"Daylight!" cried I. "Daybreak, sunset, clouds, and windy skies! Shall we -ever see such things again?" - -As I spoke, a little picture of our world seemed to rise before me, bright -and little and clear, like the background of some old Italian picture. -"The sky that changes, and the sea that changes, and the hills and the -green trees and the towns and cities shining in the sun. Think of a wet -roof at sunset, Cavor! Think of the windows of a westward house!" He made -no answer. - -"Here we are burrowing in this beastly world that isn't a world, with its -inky ocean hidden in some abominable blackness below, and outside that -torrid day and that death stillness of night. And all these things that -are chasing us now, beastly men of leather--insect men, that come out of -a nightmare! After all, they're right! What business have we here smashing -them and disturbing their world! For all we know the whole planet is up -and after us already. In a minute we may hear them whimpering, and their -gongs going. What are we to do? Where are we to go? Here we are as -comfortable as snakes from Jamrach's loose in a Surbiton villa!" - -"It was your fault," said Cavor. - -"My fault!" I shouted. "Good Lord!" - -"I had an idea!" - -"Curse your ideas!" - -"If we had refused to budge--" - -"Under those goads?" - -"Yes. They would have carried us!" - -"Over that bridge?" - -"Yes. They must have carried us from outside." - -"I'd rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling." - -"Good Heavens!" - -I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something that -struck me even then. "Cavor," I said, "these chains are of gold!" - -He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned -his head slowly and stared at me, and when I had repeated my words, at the -twisted chain about his right hand. "So they are," he said, "so they -are." His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He -hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I -sat for a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed this, -until I considered the blue light in which we had been, and which had -taken all the colour out of the metal. And from that discovery I also -started upon a train of thought that carried me wide and far. I forgot -that I had just been asking what business we had in the moon. Gold.... - -It was Cavor who spoke first. "It seems to me that there are two courses -open to us." - -"Well?" - -"Either we can attempt to make our way--fight our way if necessary--out -to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere until we find it, or -the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else--" - -He paused. "Yes?" I said, though I knew what was coming. - -"We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding with -the minds of the people in the moon." - -"So far as I'm concerned--it's the first." - -"I doubt." - -"I don't." - -"You see," said Cavor, "I do not think we can judge the Selenites by what -we have seen of them. Their central world, their civilised world will be -far below in the profounder caverns about their sea. This region of the -crust in which we are is an outlying district, a pastoral region. At any -rate, that is my interpretation. These Selenites we have seen may be only -the equivalent of cowboys and engine-tenders. Their use of goads--in all -probability mooncalf goads--the lack of imagination they show in expecting -us to be able to do just what they can do, their indisputable brutality, -all seem to point to something of that sort. But if we endured--" - -"Neither of us could endure a six-inch plank across the bottomless pit for -very long." - -"No," said Cavor; "but then--" - -"I _won't_," I said. - -He discovered a new line of possibilities. "Well, suppose we got ourselves -into some corner, where we could defend ourselves against these hinds and -labourers. If, for example, we could hold out for a week or so, it is -probable that the news of our appearance would filter down to the more -intelligent and populous parts--" - -"If they exist." - -"They must exist, or whence came those tremendous machines?" - -"That's possible, but it's the worst of the two chances." - -"We might write up inscriptions on walls--" - -"How do we know their eyes would see the sort of marks we made?" - -"If we cut them--" - -"That's possible, of course." - -I took up a new thread of thought. "After all," I said, "I suppose you -don't think these Selenites so infinitely wiser than men." - -"They must know a lot more--or at least a lot of different things." - -"Yes, but--" I hesitated. - -"I think you'll quite admit, Cavor, that you're rather an exceptional -man." - -"How?" - -"Well, you--you're a rather lonely man--have been, that is. You haven't -married." - -"Never wanted to. But why--" - -"And you never grew richer than you happened to be?" - -"Never wanted that either." - -"You've just rooted after knowledge?" - -"Well, a certain curiosity is natural--" - -"You think so. That's just it. You think every other mind wants to know. I -remember once, when I asked you why you conducted all these researches, -you said you wanted your F.R.S., and to have the stuff called Cavorite, -and things like that. You know perfectly well you didn't do it for that; -but at the time my question took you by surprise, and you felt you ought -to have something to look like a motive. Really you conducted researches -because you had to. It's your twist." - -"Perhaps it is--" - -"It isn't one man in a million has that twist. Most men want--well, -various things, but very few want knowledge for its own sake. I don't, I -know perfectly well. Now, these Selenites seem to be a driving, busy sort -of being, but how do you know that even the most intelligent will take an -interest in us or our world? I don't believe they'll even know we have a -world. They never come out at night--they'd freeze if they did. They've -probably never seen any heavenly body at all except the blazing sun. How -are they to know there is another world? What does it matter to them if -they do? Well, even if they have had a glimpse of a few stars, or even of -the earth crescent, what of that? Why should people living inside a -planet trouble to observe that sort of thing? Men wouldn't have done it -except for the seasons and sailing; why should the moon people?... - -"Well, suppose there are a few philosophers like yourself. They are just -the very Selenites who'll never have heard of our existence. Suppose a -Selenite had dropped on the earth when you were at Lympne, you'd have -been the last man in the world to hear he had come. You never read a -newspaper! You see the chances against you. Well, it's for these chances -we're sitting here doing nothing while precious time is flying. I tell you -we've got into a fix. We've come unarmed, we've lost our sphere, we've got -no food, we've shown ourselves to the Selenites, and made them think we're -strange, strong, dangerous animals; and unless these Selenites are perfect -fools, they'll set about now and hunt us till they find us, and when they -find us they'll try to take us if they can, and kill us if they can't, and -that's the end of the matter. If they take us, they'll probably kill us, -through some misunderstanding. After we're done for, they may discuss us -perhaps, but we shan't get much fun out of that." - -"Go on." - -"On the other hand, here's gold knocking about like cast iron at home. If -only we can get some of it back, if only we can find our sphere again -before they do, and get back, then--" - -"Yes?" - -"We might put the thing on a sounder footing. Come back in a bigger -sphere with guns." - -"Good Lord!" cried Cavor, as though that was horrible. - -I shied another luminous fungus down the cleft. - -"Look here, Cavor," I said, "I've half the voting power anyhow in this -affair, and this is a case for a practical man. I'm a practical man, and -you are not. I'm not going to trust to Selenites and geometrical diagrams -if I can help it. That's all. Get back. Drop all this secrecy--or most -of it. And come again." - -He reflected. "When I came to the moon," he said, "I ought to have come -alone." - -"The question before the meeting," I said, "is how to get back to the -sphere." - -For a time we nursed our knees in silence. Then he seemed to decide for my -reasons. - -"I think," he said, "one can get data. It is clear that while the sun is -on this side of the moon the air will be blowing through this planet -sponge from the dark side hither. On this side, at any rate, the air will -be expanding and flowing out of the moon caverns into the craters.... -Very well, there's a draught here." - -"So there is." - -"And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this -cleft goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we -have to go. If we try to get up any sort of chimney or gully there is, we -shall not only get out of these passages where they are hunting for us--" - -"But suppose the gully is too narrow?" - -"We'll come down again." - -"Ssh!" I said suddenly; "what's that?" - -We listened. At first it was an indistinct murmur, and then one picked out -the clang of a gong. "They must think we are mooncalves," said I, "to be -frightened at that." - -"They're coming along that passage," said Cavor. - -"They must be." - -"They'll not think of the cleft. They'll go past." - -I listened again for a space. "This time," I whispered, "they're likely to -have some sort of weapon." - -Then suddenly I sprang to my feet. "Good heavens, Cavor!" I cried. "But -they will! They'll see the fungi I have been pitching down. They'll--" - -I didn't finish my sentence. I turned about and made a leap over the -fungus tops towards the upper end of the cavity. I saw that the space -turned upward and became a draughty cleft again, ascending to impenetrable -darkness. I was about to clamber up into this, and then with a happy -inspiration turned back. - -"What are you doing?" asked Cavor. - -"Go on!" said I, and went back and got two of the shining fungi, and -putting one into the breast pocket of my flannel jacket, so that it stuck -out to light our climbing, went back with the other for Cavor. The noise -of the Selenites was now so loud that it seemed they must be already -beneath the cleft. But it might be they would have difficulty in -clambering in to it, or might hesitate to ascend it against our possible -resistance. At any rate, we had now the comforting knowledge of the -enormous muscular superiority our birth in another planet gave us. In -other minute I was clambering with gigantic vigour after Cavor's blue-lit -heels. - - - - - -Chapter 17 - - - - -The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers - -I do not know how far we clambered before we came to the grating. It may -be we ascended only a few hundred feet, but at the time it seemed to me we -might have hauled and jammed and hopped and wedged ourselves through a -mile or more of vertical ascent. Whenever I recall that time, there comes -into my head the heavy clank of our golden chains that followed every -movement. Very soon my knuckles and knees were raw, and I had a bruise on -one cheek. After a time the first violence of our efforts diminished, and -our movements became more deliberate and less painful. The noise of the -pursuing Selenites had died away altogether. It seemed almost as though -they had not traced us up the crack after all, in spite of the tell-tale -heap of broken fungi that must have lain beneath it. At times the cleft -narrowed so much that we could scarce squeeze up it; at others it expanded -into great drusy cavities, studded with prickly crystals or thickly beset -with dull, shining fungoid pimples. Sometimes it twisted spirally, and at -other times slanted down nearly to the horizontal direction. Ever and -again there was the intermittent drip and trickle of water by us. Once or -twice it seemed to us that small living things had rustled out of our -reach, but what they were we never saw. They may have been venomous beasts -for all I know, but they did us no harm, and we were now tuned to a pitch -when a weird creeping thing more or less mattered little. And at last, far -above, came the familiar bluish light again, and then we saw that it -filtered through a grating that barred our way. - -We whispered as we pointed this out to one another, and became more and -more cautious in our ascent. Presently we were close under the grating, -and by pressing my face against its bars I could see a limited portion of -the cavern beyond. It was clearly a large space, and lit no doubt by some -rivulet of the same blue light that we had seen flow from the beating -machinery. An intermittent trickle of water dropped ever and again between -the bars near my face. - -My first endeavour was naturally to see what might be upon the floor of -the cavern, but our grating lay in a depression whose rim hid all this -from our eyes. Our foiled attention then fell back upon the suggestion of -the various sounds we heard, and presently my eye caught a number of faint -shadows that played across the dim roof far overhead. - -Indisputably there were several Selenites, perhaps a considerable number, -in this space, for we could hear the noises of their intercourse, and -faint sounds that I identified as their footfalls. There was also a -succession of regularly repeated sounds--chid, chid, chid--which began -and ceased, suggestive of a knife or spade hacking at some soft substance. -Then came a clank as if of chains, a whistle and a rumble as of a truck -running over a hollowed place, and then again that chid, chid, chid -resumed. The shadows told of shapes that moved quickly and rhythmically, -in agreement with that regular sound, and rested when it ceased. - -We put our heads close together, and began to discuss these things in -noiseless whispers. - -"They are occupied," I said, "they are occupied in some way." - -"Yes." - -"They're not seeking us, or thinking of us." - -"Perhaps they have not heard of us." - -"Those others are hunting about below. If suddenly we appeared here--" - -We looked at one another. - -"There might be a chance to parley," said Cavor. - -"No," I said. "Not as we are." - -For a space we remained, each occupied by his own thoughts. - -Chid, chid, chid went the chipping, and the shadows moved to and fro. - -I looked at the grating. "It's flimsy," I said. "We might bend two of the -bars and crawl through." - -We wasted a little time in vague discussion. Then I took one of the bars -in both hands, and got my feet up against the rock until they were almost -on a level with my head, and so thrust against the bar. It bent so -suddenly that I almost slipped. I clambered about and bent the adjacent -bar in the opposite direction, and then took the luminous fungus from my -pocket and dropped it down the fissure. - -"Don't do anything hastily," whispered Cavor, as I twisted myself up -through the opening I had enlarged. I had a glimpse of busy figures as I -came through the grating, and immediately bent down, so that the rim of -the depression in which the grating lay hid me from their eyes, and so lay -flat, signalling advice to Cavor as he also prepared to come through. -Presently we were side by side in the depression, peering over the edge at -the cavern and its occupants. - -It was a much larger cavern than we had supposed from our first glimpse of -it, and we looked up from the lowest portion of its sloping floor. It -widened out as it receded from us, and its roof came down and hid the -remoter portion altogether. And lying in a line along its length, -vanishing at last far away in that tremendous perspective, were a number -of huge shapes, huge pallid hulls, upon which the Selenites were busy. At -first they seemed big white cylinders of vague import. Then I noted the -heads upon them lying towards us, eyeless and skinless like the heads of -sheep at a butcher's, and perceived they were the carcasses of mooncalves -being cut up, much as the crew of a whaler might cut up a moored whale. -They were cutting off the flesh in strips, and on some of the farther -trunks the white ribs were showing. It was the sound of their hatchets -that made that chid, chid, chid. Some way away a thing like a trolley -cable, drawn and loaded with chunks of lax meat, was running up the slope -of the cavern floor. This enormous long avenue of hulls that were destined -to be food gave us a sense of the vast populousness of the moon world -second only to the effect of our first glimpse down the shaft. - -It seemed to me at first that the Selenites must be standing on -trestle-supported planks,[*] and then I saw that the planks and supports -and the hatchets were really of the same leaden hue as my fetters had -seemed before white light came to bear on them. A number of very -thick-looking crowbars lay about the floor, and had apparently assisted -to turn the dead mooncalf over on its side. They were perhaps six feet -long, with shaped handles, very tempting-looking weapons. The whole -place was lit by three transverse streams of the blue fluid. - -[* Footnote: I do not remember seeing any wooden things on the moon; doors -tables, everything corresponding to our terrestrial joinery was made of -metal, and I believe for the most part of gold, which as a metal would, -of course, naturally recommend itself--other things being equal--on -account of the ease in working it, and its toughness and durability.] - -We lay for a long time noting all these things in silence. "Well?" said -Cavor at last. - -I crouched over and turned to him. I had come upon a brilliant idea. -"Unless they lowered those bodies by a crane," I said, "we must be nearer -the surface than I thought." - -"Why?" - -"The mooncalf doesn't hop, and it hasn't got wings." - -He peered over the edge of the hollow again. "I wonder now--" he began. -"After all, we have never gone far from the surface--" - -I stopped him by a grip on his arm. I had heard a noise from the cleft -below us! - -We twisted ourselves about, and lay as still as death, with every sense -alert. In a little while I did not doubt that something was quietly -ascending the cleft. Very slowly and quite noiselessly I assured myself -of a good grip on my chain, and waited for that something to appear. - -"Just look at those chaps with the hatchets again," I said. - -"They're all right," said Cavor. - -I took a sort of provisional aim at the gap in the grating. I could hear -now quite distinctly the soft twittering of the ascending Selenites, the -dab of their hands against the rock, and the falling of dust from their -grips as they clambered. - -Then I could see that there was something moving dimly in the blackness -below the grating, but what it might be I could not distinguish. The whole -thing seemed to hang fire just for a moment--then smash! I had sprung -to my feet, struck savagely at something that had flashed out at me. It -was the keen point of a spear. I have thought since that its length in the -narrowness of the cleft must have prevented its being sloped to reach me. -Anyhow, it shot out from the grating like the tongue of a snake, and -missed and flew back and flashed again. But the second time I snatched and -caught it, and wrenched it away, but not before another had darted -ineffectually at me. - -I shouted with triumph as I felt the hold of the Selenite resist my pull -for a moment and give, and then I was jabbing down through the bars, -amidst squeals from the darkness, and Cavor had snapped off the other -spear, and was leaping and flourishing it beside me, and making -inefficient jabs. Clang, clang, came up through the grating, and then an -axe hurtled through the air and whacked against the rocks beyond, to -remind me of the fleshers at the carcasses up the cavern. - -I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving their -axes. They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, strikingly -different from the ones we had seen before. If they had not heard of us -before, they must have realised the situation with incredible swiftness. I -stared at them for a moment, spear in hand. "Guard that grating, Cavor," I -cried, howled to intimidate them, and rushed to meet them. Two of them -missed with their hatchets, and the rest fled incontinently. Then the two -also were sprinting away up the cavern, with hands clenched and heads -down. I never saw men run like them! - -I knew the spear I had was no good for me. It was thin and flimsy, only -effectual for a thrust, and too long for a quick recover. So I only chased -the Selenites as far as the first carcass, and stopped there and picked up -one of the crowbars that were lying about. It felt comfortingly heavy, and -equal to smashing any number of Selenites. I threw away my spear, and -picked up a second crowbar for the other hand. I felt five times better -than I had with the spear. I shook the two threateningly at the Selenites, -who had come to a halt in a little crowd far away up the cavern, and then -turned about to look at Cavor. - -He was leaping from side to side of the grating, making threatening jabs -with his broken spear. That was all right. It would keep the Selenites -down--for a time at any rate. I looked up the cavern again. What on earth -were we going to do now? - -We were cornered in a sort of way already. But these butchers up the -cavern had been surprised, they were probably scared, and they had no -special weapons, only those little hatchets of theirs. And that way lay -escape. Their sturdy little forms--ever so much shorter and thicker than -the mooncalf herds--were scattered up the slope in a way that was -eloquent of indecision. I had the moral advantage of a mad bull in a -street. But for all that, there seemed a tremendous crowd of them. Very -probably there was. Those Selenites down the cleft had certainly some -infernally long spears. It might be they had other surprises for us.... -But, confound it! if we charged up the cave we should let them up behind -us, and if we didn't those little brutes up the cave would probably get -reinforced. Heaven alone knew what tremendous engines of warfare--guns, -bombs, terrestrial torpedoes--this unknown world below our feet, this -vaster world of which we had only pricked the outer cuticle, might not -presently send up to our destruction. It became clear the only thing to do -was to charge! It became clearer as the legs of a number of fresh -Selenites appeared running down the cavern towards us. - -"Bedford!" cried Cavor, and behold! he was halfway between me and the -grating. - -"Go back!" I cried. "What are you doing--" - -"They've got--it's like a gun!" - -And struggling in the grating between those defensive spears appeared the -head and shoulders of a singularly lean and angular Selenite, bearing some -complicated apparatus. - -I realised Cavor's utter incapacity for the fight we had in hand. For a -moment I hesitated. Then I rushed past him whirling my crowbars, and -shouting to confound the aim of the Selenite. He was aiming in the -queerest way with the thing against his stomach. "Chuzz!" The thing -wasn't a gun; it went off like cross-bow more, and dropped me in the -middle of a leap. - -I didn't fall down, I simply came down a little shorter than I should have -done if I hadn't been hit, and from the feel of my shoulder the thing -might have tapped me and glanced off. Then my left hand hit again the -shaft, and I perceived there was a sort of spear sticking half through my -shoulder. The moment after I got home with the crowbar in my right hand, -and hit the Selenite fair and square. He collapsed--he crushed and -crumpled--his head smashed like an egg. - -I dropped a crowbar, pulled the spear out of my shoulder, and began to jab -it down the grating into the darkness. At each jab came a shriek and -twitter. Finally I hurled the spear down upon them with all my strength, -leapt up, picked up the crowbar again, and started for the multitude up -the cavern. - -"Bedford!" cried Cavor. "Bedford!" as I flew past him. - -I seem to remember his footsteps coming on behind me. - -Step, leap ... whack, step, leap.... Each leap seemed to last ages. With -each, the cave opened out and the number of Selenites visible increased. -At first they seemed all running about like ants in a disturbed ant-hill, -one or two waving hatchets and coming to meet me, more running away, some -bolting sideways into the avenue of carcasses, then presently others came -in sight carrying spears, and then others. I saw a most extraordinary -thing, all hands and feet, bolting for cover. The cavern grew darker -farther up. - -Flick! something flew over my head. Flick! As I soared in mid-stride I saw -a spear hit and quiver in one of the carcasses to my left. Then, as I came -down, one hit the ground before me, and I heard the remote chuzz! with -which their things were fired. Flick, flick! for a moment it was a -shower. They were volleying! - -I stopped dead. - -I don't think I thought clearly then. I seem to remember a kind of -stereotyped phrase running through my mind: "Zone of fire, seek cover!" I -know I made a dash for the space between two of the carcasses, and stood -there panting and feeling very wicked. - -I looked round for Cavor, and for a moment it seemed as if he had vanished -from the world. Then he came out of the darkness between the row of the -carcasses and the rocky wall of the cavern. I saw his little face, dark -and blue, and shining with perspiration and emotion. - -He was saying something, but what it was I did not heed. I had realised -that we might work from mooncalf to mooncalf up the cave until we were -near enough to charge home. It was charge or nothing. "Come on!" I said, -and led the way. - -"Bedford!" he cried unavailingly. - -My mind was busy as we went up that narrow alley between the dead bodies -and the wall of the cavern. The rocks curved about--they could not -enfilade us. Though in that narrow space we could not leap, yet with our -earth-born strength we were still able to go very much faster than the -Selenites. I reckoned we should presently come right among them. Once -we were on them, they would be nearly as formidable as black beetles. -Only there would first of all be a volley. I thought of a stratagem. -I whipped off my flannel jacket as I ran. - -"Bedford!" panted Cavor behind me. - -I glanced back. "What?" said I. - -He was pointing upward over the carcasses. "White light!" he said. "White -light again!" - -I looked, and it was even so; a faint white ghost of light in the remoter -cavern roof. That seemed to give me double strength. - -"Keep close," I said. A flat, long Selenite dashed out of the darkness, -and squealed and fled. I halted, and stopped Cavor with my hand. I hung my -jacket over my crowbar, ducked round the next carcass, dropped jacket and -crowbar, showed myself, and darted back. - -"Chuzz-flick," just one arrow came. We were close on the Selenites, and -they were standing in a crowd, broad, short, and tall together, with a -little battery of their shooting implements pointing down the cave. Three -or four other arrows followed the first, then their fire ceased. - -I stuck out my head, and escaped by a hair's-breadth. This time I drew a -dozen shots or more, and heard the Selenites shouting and twittering as if -with excitement as they shot. I picked up jacket and crowbar again. - -"Now!" said I, and thrust out the jacket. - -"Chuzz-zz-zz-zz! Chuzz!" In an instant my jacket had grown a thick beard -of arrows, and they were quivering all over the carcass behind us. -Instantly I slipped the crowbar out of the jacket, dropped the jacket--for -all I know to the contrary it is lying up there in the moon now--and -rushed out upon them. - -For a minute perhaps it was massacre. I was too fierce to discriminate, -and the Selenites were probably too scared to fight. At any rate they made -no sort of fight against me. I saw scarlet, as the saying is. I remember I -seemed to be wading among those leathery, thin things as a man wades -through tall grass, mowing and hitting, first right, then left; smash. -Little drops of moisture flew about. I trod on things that crushed and -piped and went slippery. The crowd seemed to open and close and flow like -water. They seemed to have no combined plan whatever. There were spears -flew about me, I was grazed over the ear by one. I was stabbed once in the -arm and once in the cheek, but I only found that out afterwards, when the -blood had had time to run and cool and feel wet. - -What Cavor did I do not know. For a space it seemed that this fighting had -lasted for an age, and must needs go on for ever. Then suddenly it was all -over, and there was nothing to be seen but the backs of heads bobbing up -and down as their owners ran in all directions.... I seemed altogether -unhurt. I ran forward some paces, shouting, then turned about. I was -amazed. - -I had come right through them in vast flying strides, they were all behind -me, and running hither and thither to hide. - -I felt an enormous astonishment at the evaporation of the great fight into -which I had hurled myself, and not a little exultation. It did not seem to -me that I had discovered the Selenites were unexpectedly flimsy, but that -I was unexpectedly strong. I laughed stupidly. This fantastic moon! - -I glanced for a moment at the smashed and writhing bodies that were -scattered over the cavern floor, with a vague idea of further violence, -then hurried on after Cavor. - - - - - -Chapter 18 - - - - -In the Sunlight - -Presently we saw that the cavern before us opened upon a hazy void. In -another moment we had emerged upon a sort of slanting gallery, that -projected into a vast circular space, a huge cylindrical pit running -vertically up and down. Round this pit the slanting gallery ran without -any parapet or protection for a turn and a half, and then plunged high -above into the rock again. Somehow it reminded me then one of those spiral -turns of the railway through the Saint Gothard. It was all tremendously -huge. I can scarcely hope to convey to you the Titanic proportion of all -that place, the Titanic effect of it. Our eyes followed up the vast -declivity of the pit wall, and overhead and far above we beheld a round -opening set with faint stars, and half of the lip about it well nigh -blinding with the white light of the sun. At that we cried aloud -simultaneously. - -"Come on!" I said, leading the way. - -"But there?" said Cavor, and very carefully stepped nearer the edge of the -gallery. I followed his example, and craned forward and looked down, but I -was dazzled by that gleam of light above, and I could see only a -bottomless darkness with spectral patches of crimson and purple floating -therein. Yet if I could not see, I could hear. Out of this darkness came a -sound, a sound like the angry hum one can hear if one puts one's ear -outside a hive of bees, a sound out of that enormous hollow, it may be, -four miles beneath our feet... - -For a moment I listened, then tightened my grip on my crowbar, and led the -way up the gallery. - -"This must be the shaft we looked down upon," said Cavor. "Under that -lid." - -"And below there, is where we saw the lights." - -"The lights!" said he. "Yes--the lights of the world that now we shall -never see." - -"We'll come back," I said, for now we had escaped so much I was rashly -sanguine that we should recover the sphere. - -His answer I did not catch. - -"Eh?" I asked. - -"It doesn't matter," he answered, and we hurried on in silence. - -I suppose that slanting lateral way was four or five miles long, allowing -for its curvature, and it ascended at a slope that would have made it -almost impossibly steep on earth, but which one strode up easily under -lunar conditions. We saw only two Selenites during all that portion of our -flight, and directly they became aware of us they ran headlong. It was -clear that the knowledge of our strength and violence had reached them. -Our way to the exterior was unexpectedly plain. The spiral gallery -straightened into a steeply ascendent tunnel, its floor bearing abundant -traces of the mooncalves, and so straight and short in proportion to its -vast arch, that no part of it was absolutely dark. Almost immediately it -began to lighten, and then far off and high up, and quite blindingly -brilliant, appeared its opening on the exterior, a slope of Alpine -steepness surmounted by a crest of bayonet shrub, tall and broken down -now, and dry and dead, in spiky silhouette against the sun. - -And it is strange that we men, to whom this very vegetation had seemed so -weird and horrible a little time ago, should now behold it with the -emotion a home-coming exile might feel at sight of his native land. We -welcomed even the rareness of the air that made us pant as we ran, and -which rendered speaking no longer the easy thing that it had been, but an -effort to make oneself heard. Larger grew the sunlit circle above us, and -larger, and all the nearer tunnel sank into a rim of indistinguishable -black. We saw the dead bayonet shrub no longer with any touch of green in -it, but brown and dry and thick, and the shadow of its upper branches -high out of sight made a densely interlaced pattern upon the tumbled -rocks. And at the immediate mouth of the tunnel was a wide trampled space -where the mooncalves had come and gone. - -We came out upon this space at last into a light and heat that hit and -pressed upon us. We traversed the exposed area painfully, and clambered up -a slope among the scrub stems, and sat down at last panting in a high -place beneath the shadow of a mass of twisted lava. Even in the shade the -rock felt hot. - -The air was intensely hot, and we were in great physical discomfort, but -for all that we were no longer in a nightmare. We seemed to have come to -our own province again, beneath the stars. All the fear and stress of our -flight through the dim passages and fissures below had fallen from us. -That last fight had filled us with an enormous confidence in ourselves so -far as the Selenites were concerned. We looked back almost incredulously -at the black opening from which we had just emerged. Down there it was, in -a blue glow that now in our memories seemed the next thing to absolute -darkness, we had met with things like mad mockeries of men, helmet-headed -creatures, and had walked in fear before them, and had submitted to them -until we could submit no longer. And behold, they had smashed like wax and -scattered like chaff, and fled and vanished like the creatures of a dream! - -I rubbed my eyes, doubting whether we had not slept and dreamt these -things by reason of the fungus we had eaten, and suddenly discovered the -blood upon my face, and then that my shirt was sticking painfully to my -shoulder and arm. - -"Confound it!" I said, gauging my injuries with an investigatory hand, and -suddenly that distant tunnel mouth became, as it were, a watching eye. - -"Cavor!" I said; "what are they going to do now? And what are we going to -do?" - -He shook his head, with his eyes fixed upon the tunnel. "How can one tell -what they will do?" - -"It depends on what they think of us, and I don't see how we can begin to -guess that. And it depends upon what they have in reserve. It's as you -say, Cavor, we have touched the merest outside of this world. They may -have all sorts of things inside here. Even with those shooting things they -might make it bad for us.... - -"Yet after all," I said, "even if we don't find the sphere at once, there -is a chance for us. We might hold out. Even through the night. We might go -down there again and make a fight for it." - -I stared about me with speculative eyes. The character of the scenery had -altered altogether by reason of the enormous growth and subsequent drying -of the scrub. The crest on which we sat was high, and commanded a wide -prospect of the crater landscape, and we saw it now all sere and dry in -the late autumn of the lunar afternoon. Rising one behind the other were -long slopes and fields of trampled brown where the mooncalves had -pastured, and far away in the full blaze of the sun a drove of them basked -slumberously, scattered shapes, each with a blot of shadow against it like -sheep on the side of a down. But never a sign of a Selenite was to be -seen. Whether they had fled on our emergence from the interior passages, -or whether they were accustomed to retire after driving out the -mooncalves, I cannot guess. At the time I believed the former was the -case. - -"If we were to set fire to all this stuff," I said, "we might find the -sphere among the ashes." - -Cavor did not seem to hear me. He was peering under his hand at the stars, -that still, in spite of the intense sunlight, were abundantly visible in -the sky. "How long do you think we've have been here?" he asked at last. - -"Been where?" - -"On the moon." - -"Two earthly days, perhaps." - -"More nearly ten. Do you know, the sun is past its zenith, and sinking in -the west. In four days' time or less it will be night." - -"But--we've only eaten once!" - -"I know that. And-- But there are the stars!" - -"But why should time seem different because we are on a smaller planet?" - -"I don't know. There it is!" - -"How does one tell time?" - -"Hunger--fatigue--all those things are different. Everything is -different--everything. To me it seems that since first we came out of the -sphere has been only a question of hours--long hours--at most." - -"Ten days," I said; "that leaves--" I looked up at the sun for a moment, -and then saw that it was halfway from the zenith to the western edge of -things. "Four days! ... Cavor, we mustn't sit here and dream. How do you -think we may begin?" - -I stood up. "We must get a fixed point we can recognise--we might hoist a -flag, or a handkerchief, or something--and quarter the ground, and work -round that." - -He stood up beside me. - -"Yes," he said, "there is nothing for it but to hunt the sphere. Nothing. -We may find it--certainly we may find it. And if not--" - -"We must keep on looking." - -He look this way and that, glanced up at the sky and down at the tunnel, -and astonished me by a sudden gesture of impatience. "Oh! but we have -done foolishly! To have come to this pass! Think how it might have been, -and the things we might have done!" - -"We might do something yet." - -"Never the thing we might have done. Here below out feet is a world. -Think of what that world must be! Think of that machine we saw, and the -lid and the shaft! They were just remote outlying things, and those -creatures we have seen and fought with no more than ignorant peasants, -dwellers in the outskirts, yokels and labourers half akin to brutes. Down -below! Caverns beneath caverns, tunnels, structures, ways... It must -open out, and be greater and wider and more populous as one descends. -Assuredly. Right down at the last the central sea that washes round the -core of the moon. Think of its inky waters under the spare lights--if, -indeed, their eyes need lights! Think of the cascading tributaries -pouring down their channels to feed it! Think of the tides upon its -surface, and the rush and swirl of its ebb and flow! perhaps they have -ships that go upon it, perhaps down there are mighty cities and swarming -ways, and wisdom and order passing the wit of man. And we may die here -upon it, and never see the masters who must be--ruling over these things! -We may freeze and die here, and the air will freeze and thaw upon us, and -then--! Then they will come upon us, come on our stiff and silent -bodies, and find the sphere we cannot find, and they will understand at -last too late all the thought and effort that ended here in vain!" - -His voice for all that speech sounded like the voice of someone heard -in a telephone, weak and far away. - -"But the darkness," I said. - -"One might get over that." - -"How?" - -"I don't know. How am I to know? One might carry a torch, one might have -a lamp-- The others--might understand." - -He stood for a moment with his hands held down and a rueful face, staring -out over the waste that defied him. Then with a gesture of renunciation -he turned towards me with proposals for the systematic hunting of the -sphere. - -"We can return," I said. - -He looked about him. "First of all we shall have to get to earth." - -"We could bring back lamps to carry and climbing irons, and a hundred -necessary things." - -"Yes," he said. - -"We can take back an earnest of success in this gold." - -He looked at my golden crowbars, and said nothing for a space. He stood -with his hands clasped behind his back, staring across the crater. At -last he signed and spoke. "It was I found the way here, but to find a way -isn't always to be master of a way. If I take my secret back to earth, -what will happen? I do not see how I can keep my secret for a year, for -even a part of a year. Sooner or later it must come out, even if other -men rediscover it. And then ... Governments and powers will struggle to -get hither, they will fight against one another, and against these moon -people; it will only spread warfare and multiply the occasions of war. In -a little while, in a very little while, if I tell my secret, this planet -to its deepest galleries will be strewn with human dead. Other things are -doubtful, but that is certain. It is not as though man had any use for the -moon. What good would the moon be to men? Even of their own planet what -have they made but a battle-ground and theatre of infinite folly? Small -as his world is, and short as his time, he has still in his little life -down there far more than he can do. No! Science has toiled too long -forging weapons for fools to use. It is time she held her hand. Let him -find it out for himself again--in a thousand years' time." - -"There are methods of secrecy," I said. - -He looked up at me and smiled. "After all," he said, "why should one -worry? There is little chance of our finding the sphere, and down below -things are brewing. It's simply the human habit of hoping till we die that -makes us think of return. Our troubles are only beginning. We have shown -these moon folk violence, we have given them a taste of our quality, and -our chances are about as good as a tiger's that has got loose and killed a -man in Hyde Park. The news of us must be running down from gallery to -gallery, down towards the central parts.... No sane beings will ever let -us take that sphere back to earth after so much as they have seen of us." - -"We aren't improving our chances," said I, "by sitting here." - -We stood up side by side. - -"After all," he said, "we must separate. We must stick up a handkerchief on -these tall spikes here and fasten it firmly, and from this as a centre we -must work over the crater. You must go westward, moving out in semicircles -to and fro towards the setting sun. You must move first with your shadow -on your right until it is at right angles with the direction of your -handkerchief, and then with your shadow on your left. And I will do the -same to the east. We will look into every gully, examine every skerry of -rocks; we will do all we can to find my sphere. If we see the Selenites we -will hide from them as well as we can. For drink we must take snow, and if -we feel the need of food, we must kill a mooncalf if we can, and eat such -flesh as it has--raw--and so each will go his own way." - -"And if one of us comes upon the sphere?" - -"He must come back to the white handkerchief, and stand by it and signal -to the other." - -"And if neither?" - -Cavor glanced up at the sun. "We go on seeking until the night and cold -overtake us." - -"Suppose the Selenites have found the sphere and hidden it?" - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"Or if presently they come hunting us?" - -He made no answer. - -"You had better take a club," I said. - -He shook his head, and stared away from me across the waste. - -But for a moment he did not start. He looked round at me shyly, hesitated. -"Au revoir," he said. - -I felt an odd stab of emotion. A sense of how we had galled each other, -and particularly how I must have galled him, came to me. "Confound it," -thought I, "we might have done better!" I was on the point of asking him -to shake hands--for that, somehow, was how I felt just then--when he put -his feet together and leapt away from me towards the north. He seemed to -drift through the air as a dead leaf would do, fell lightly, and leapt -again. I stood for a moment watching him, then faced westward reluctantly, -pulled myself together, and with something of the feeling of a man who -leaps into icy water, selected a leaping point, and plunged forward to -explore my solitary half of the moon world. I dropped rather clumsily -among rocks, stood up and looked about me, clambered on to a rocky slab, -and leapt again.... - -When presently I looked for Cavor he was hidden from my eyes, but the -handkerchief showed out bravely on its headland, white in the blaze of the -sun. - -I determined not to lose sight of that handkerchief whatever might betide. - - - - - -Chapter 19 - - - - -Mr. Bedford Alone - -In a little while it seemed to me as though I had always been alone on the -moon. I hunted for a time with a certain intentness, but the heat was -still very great, and the thinness of the air felt like a hoop about one's -chest. I came presently into a hollow basin bristling with tall, brown, -dry fronds about its edge, and I sat down under these to rest and cool. I -intended to rest for only a little while. I put down my clubs beside me, -and sat resting my chin on my hands. I saw with a sort of colourless -interest that the rocks of the basin, where here and there the crackling -dry lichens had shrunk away to show them, were all veined and splattered -with gold, that here and there bosses of rounded and wrinkled gold -projected from among the litter. What did that matter now? A sort of -languor had possession of my limbs and mind, I did not believe for a moment -that we should ever find the sphere in that vast desiccated wilderness. I -seemed to lack a motive for effort until the Selenites should come. Then -I supposed I should exert myself, obeying that unreasonable imperative -that urges a man before all things to preserve and defend his life, albeit -he may preserve it only to die more painfully in a little while. - -Why had we come to the moon? - -The thing presented itself to me as a perplexing problem. What is this -spirit in man that urges him for ever to depart from happiness and -security, to toil, to place himself in danger, to risk even a reasonable -certainty of death? It dawned upon me up there in the moon as a thing I -ought always to have known, that man is not made simply to go about being -safe and comfortable and well fed and amused. Almost any man, if you put -the thing to him, not in words, but in the shape of opportunities, will -show that he knows as much. Against his interest, against his happiness, he -is constantly being driven to do unreasonable things. Some force not -himself impels him, and go he must. But why? Why? Sitting there in the -midst of that useless moon gold, amidst the things of another world, I -took count of all my life. Assuming I was to die a castaway upon the moon, -I failed altogether to see what purpose I had served. I got no light on -that point, but at any rate it was clearer to me than it had ever been in -my life before that I was not serving my own purpose, that all my life I -had in truth never served the purposes of my private life. Whose purposes, -what purposes, was I serving? ... I ceased to speculate on why we had come -to the moon, and took a wider sweep. Why had I come to the earth? Why had -I a private life at all? ... I lost myself at last in bottomless -speculations.... - -My thoughts became vague and cloudy, no longer leading in definite -directions. I had not felt heavy or weary--I cannot imagine one doing so -upon the moon--but I suppose I was greatly fatigued. At any rate I slept. - -Slumbering there rested me greatly, I think, and the sun was setting and -the violence of the heat abating, through all the time I slumbered. When -at last I was roused from my slumbers by a remote clamour, I felt active -and capable again. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. I rose to my -feet--I was a little stiff--and at once prepared to resume my search. I -shouldered my golden clubs, one on each shoulder, and went on out of the -ravine of the gold-veined rocks. - -The sun was certainly lower, much lower than it had been; the air was very -much cooler. I perceived I must have slept some time. It seemed to me that -a faint touch of misty blueness hung about the western cliff I leapt to a -little boss of rock and surveyed the crater. I could see no signs of -mooncalves or Selenites, nor could I see Cavor, but I could see my -handkerchief far off, spread out on its thicket of thorns. I looked bout -me, and then leapt forward to the next convenient view-point. - -I beat my round in a semicircle, and back again in a still remoter -crescent. It was very fatiguing and hopeless. The air was really very much -cooler, and it seemed to me that the shadow under the westward cliff was -growing broad. Ever and again I stopped and reconnoitred, but there was no -sign of Cavor, no sign of Selenites; and it seemed to me the mooncalves -must have been driven into the interior again--I could see none of them. -I became more and more desirous of seeing Cavor. The winged outline of the -sun had sunk now, until it was scarcely the distance of its diameter from -the rim of the sky. I was oppressed by the idea that the Selenites would -presently close their lids and valves, and shut us out under the -inexorable onrush of the lunar night. It seemed to me high time that he -abandoned his search, and that we took counsel together. I felt how urgent -it was that we should decide soon upon our course. We had failed to find -the sphere, we no longer had time to seek it, and once these valves were -closed with us outside, we were lost men. The great night of space would -descend upon us--that blackness of the void which is the only absolute -death. All my being shrank from that approach. We must get into the moon -again, though we were slain in doing it. I was haunted by a vision of our -freezing to death, of our hammering with our last strength on the valve of -the great pit. - -I took no thought any more of the sphere. I thought only of finding Cavor -again. I was half inclined to go back into the moon without him, rather -than seek him until it was too late. I was already half-way back towards -our handkerchief, when suddenly-- - -I saw the sphere! - -I did not find it so much as it found me. It was lying much farther to the -westward than I had gone, and the sloping rays of the sinking sun -reflected from its glass had suddenly proclaimed its presence in a -dazzling beam. For an instant I thought this was some new device of the -Selenites against us, and then I understood. - -I threw up my arms, shouted a ghostly shout, and set off in vast leaps -towards it. I missed one of my leaps and dropped into a deep ravine and -twisted my ankle, and after that I stumbled at almost every leap. I was -in a state of hysterical agitation, trembling violently, and quite -breathless long before I got to it. Three times at least I had to stop -with my hands resting on my side and in spite of the thin dryness of the -air, the perspiration was wet upon my face. - -I thought of nothing but the sphere until I reached it, I forgot even my -trouble of Cavor's whereabouts. My last leap flung me with my hands hard -against its glass; then I lay against it panting, and trying vainly to -shout, "Cavor! here is the sphere!" When I had recovered a little I peered -through the thick glass, and the things inside seemed tumbled. I stooped -to peer closer. Then I attempted to get in. I had to hoist it over a -little to get my head through the manhole. The screw stopper was inside, -and I could see now that nothing had been touched, nothing had suffered. -It lay there as we had left it when we had dropped out amidst the snow. -For a time I was wholly occupied in making and remaking this inventory. I -found I was trembling violently. It was good to see that familiar dark -interior again! I cannot tell you how good. Presently I crept inside and -sat down among the things. I looked through the glass at the moon world -and shivered. I placed my gold clubs upon the table, and sought out and -took a little food; not so much because I wanted it, but because it was -there. Then it occurred to me that it was time to go out and signal for -Cavor. But I did not go out and signal for Cavor forthwith. Something -held me to the sphere. - -After all, everything was coming right. There would be still time for us -to get more of the magic stone that gives one mastery over men. Away -there, close handy, was gold for the picking up; and the sphere would -travel as well half full of gold as though it were empty. We could go -back now, masters of ourselves and our world, and then-- - -I roused myself at last, and with an effort got myself out of the sphere. -I shivered as I emerged, for the evening air was growing very cold. I -stood in the hollow staring about me. I scrutinised the bushes round me -very carefully before I leapt to the rocky shelf hard by, and took once -more what had been my first leap in the moon. But now I made it with no -effort whatever. - -The growth and decay of the vegetation had gone on apace, and the whole -aspect of the rocks had changed, but still it was possible to make out the -slope on which the seeds had germinated, and the rocky mass from which we -had taken our first view of the crater. But the spiky shrub on the slope -stood brown and sere now, and thirty feet high, and cast long shadows that -stretched out of sight, and the little seeds that clustered in its upper -branches were brown and ripe. Its work was done, and it was brittle and -ready to fall and crumple under the freezing air, so soon as the nightfall -came. And the huge cacti, that had swollen as we watched them, had long -since burst and scattered their spores to the four quarters of the moon. -Amazing little corner in the universe--the landing place of men! - -Some day, thought I, I will have an inscription standing there right in -the midst of the hollow. It came to me, if only this teeming world within -knew of the full import of the moment, how furious its tumult would -become! - -But as yet it could scarcely be dreaming of the significance of our -coming. For if it did, the crater would surely be an uproar of pursuit, -instead of as still as death! I looked about for some place from which I -might signal Cavor, and saw that same patch of rock to which he had leapt -from my present standpoint, still bare and barren in the sun. For a moment -I hesitated at going so far from the sphere. Then with a pang of shame at -that hesitation, I leapt.... - -From this vantage point I surveyed the crater again. Far away at the top -of the enormous shadow I cast was the little white handkerchief fluttering -on the bushes. It was very little and very far, and Cavor was not in -sight. It seemed to me that by this time he ought to be looking for me. -That was the agreement. But he was nowhere to be seen. - -I stood waiting and watching, hands shading my eyes, expecting every -moment to distinguish him. Very probably I stood there for quite a long -time. I tried to shout, and was reminded of the thinness of the air. I -made an undecided step back towards the sphere. But a lurking dread of -the Selenites made me hesitate to signal my whereabouts by hoisting one of -our sleeping-blankets on to the adjacent scrub. I searched the crater -again. - -It had an effect of emptiness that chilled me. And it was still. Any -sound from the Selenites in the world beneath had died away. It was as -still as death. Save for the faint stir of the shrub about me in the -little breeze that was rising, there was no sound nor shadow of a sound. -And the breeze blew chill. - -Confound Cavor! - -I took a deep breath. I put my hands to the sides of my mouth. "Cavor!" I -bawled, and the sound was like some manikin shouting far away. - -I looked at the handkerchief, I looked behind me at the broadening shadow -of the westward cliff, I looked under my hand at the sun. It seemed to me -that almost visibly it was creeping down the sky. - -I felt I must act instantly if I was to save Cavor. I whipped off my vest -and flung it as a mark on the sere bayonets of the shrubs behind me, and -then set off in a straight line towards the handkerchief. Perhaps it was -a couple of miles away--a matter of a few hundred leaps and strides. I -have already told how one seemed to hang through those lunar leaps. In -each suspense I sought Cavor, and marvelled why he should be hidden. In -each leap I could feel the sun setting behind me. Each time I touched -the ground I was tempted to go back. - -A last leap and I was in the depression below our handkerchief, a stride, -and I stood on our former vantage point within arms' reach of it. I stood -up straight and scanned the world about me, between its lengthening bars -of shadow. Far away, down a long declivity, was the opening of the tunnel -up which we had fled, and my shadow reached towards it, stretched towards -it, and touched it, like a finger of the night. - -Not a sign of Cavor, not a sound in all the stillness, only the stir and -waving of the scrub and of the shadows increased. And suddenly and -violently I shivered. "Cav--" I began, and realised once more the -uselessness of the human voice in that thin air. Silence. The silence of -death. - -Then it was my eye caught something--a little thing lying, perhaps fifty -yards away down the slope, amidst a litter of bent and broken branches. -What was it? I knew, and yet for some reason I would not know. I went -nearer to it. It was the little cricket-cap Cavor had worn. I did not -touch it, I stood looking at it. - -I saw then that the scattered branches about it had been forcibly smashed -and trampled. I hesitated, stepped forward, and picked it up. - -I stood with Cavor's cap in my hand, staring at the trampled reeds and -thorns about me. On some, of them were little smears of something dark, -something that I dared not touch. A dozen yards away, perhaps, the rising -breeze dragged something into view, something small and vividly white. - -It was a little piece of paper crumpled tightly, as though it had been -clutched tightly. I picked it up, and on it were smears of red. My eye -caught faint pencil marks. I smoothed it out, and saw uneven and broken -writing ending at last in a crooked streak up on the paper. - -I set myself to decipher this. - -"I have been injured about the knee, I think my kneecap is hurt, and I -cannot run or crawl," it began--pretty distinctly written. - -Then less legibly: "They have been chasing me for some time, and it is -only a question of"--the word "time" seemed to have been written here and -erased in favour of something illegible--"before they get me. They are -beating all about me." - -Then the writing became convulsive. "I can hear them," I guessed the -tracing meant, and then it was quite unreadable for a space. Then came a -little string of words that were quite distinct: "a different sort of -Selenite altogether, who appears to be directing the--" The writing -became a mere hasty confusion again. - -"They have larger brain cases--much larger, and slenderer bodies, and -very short legs. They make gentle noises, and move with organized -deliberation... - -"And though I am wounded and helpless here, their appearance still gives -me hope." That was like Cavor. "They have not shot at me or attempted... -injury. I intend--" - -Then came the sudden streak of the pencil across the paper, and on the -back and edges--blood! - -And as I stood there stupid, and perplexed, with this dumbfounding relic -in my hand, something very soft and light and chill touched my hand for a -moment and ceased to be, and then a thing, a little white speck, drifted -athwart a shadow. It was a tiny snowflake, the first snowflake, the herald -of the night. - -I looked up with a start, and the sky had darkened almost to blackness, -and was thick with a gathering multitude of coldly watchful stars. I -looked eastward, and the light of that shrivelled world was touched with -sombre bronze; westward, and the sun robbed now by a thickening white mist -of half its heat and splendour, was touching the crater rim, was sinking -out of sight, and all the shrubs and jagged and tumbled rocks stood out -against it in a bristling disorder of black shapes. Into the great lake -of darkness westward, a vast wreath of mist was sinking. A cold wind set -all the crater shivering. Suddenly, for a moment, I was in a puff of -falling snow, and all the world about me gray and dim. - -And then it was I heard, not loud and penetrating as at first, but faint -and dim like a dying voice, that tolling, that same tolling that had -welcomed the coming of the day: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... - -It echoed about the crater, it seemed to throb with the throbbing of the -greater stars, the blood-red crescent of the sun's disc sank as it tolled -out: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... - -What had happened to Cavor? All through that tolling I stood there -stupidly, and at last the tolling ceased. - -And suddenly the open mouth of the tunnel down below there, shut like an -eye and vanished out of sight. - -Then indeed was I alone. - -Over me, around me, closing in on me, embracing me ever nearer, was the -Eternal; that which was before the beginning, and that which triumphs over -the end; that enormous void in which all light and life and being is but -the thin and vanishing splendour of a falling star, the cold, the -stillness, the silence--the infinite and final Night of space. - -The sense of solitude and desolation became the sense of an overwhelming -presence that stooped towards me, that almost touched me. - -"No," I cried. "No! Not yet! not yet! Wait! Wait! Oh, wait!" My voice -went up to a shriek. I flung the crumpled paper from me, scrambled back -to the crest to take my bearings, and then, with all the will that was in -me, leapt out towards the mark I had left, dim and distant now in the very -margin of the shadow. - -Leap, leap, leap, and each leap was seven ages. - -Before me the pale serpent-girdled section of the sun sank and sank, and -the advancing shadow swept to seize the sphere before I could reach it. I -was two miles away, a hundred leaps or more, and the air about me was -thinning out as it thins under an air-pump, and the cold was gripping at -my joints. But had I died, I should have died leaping. Once, and then -again my foot slipped on the gathering snow as I leapt and shortened my -leap; once I fell short into bushes that crashed and smashed into dusty -chips and nothingness, and once I stumbled as I dropped and rolled head -over heels into a gully, and rose bruised and bleeding and confused as to -my direction. - -But such incidents were as nothing to the intervals, those awful pauses -when one drifted through the air towards that pouring tide of night. My -breathing made a piping noise, and it was as though knives were whirling -in my lungs. My heart seemed to beat against the top of my brain. "Shall I -reach it? O Heaven! Shall I reach it?" - -My whole being became anguish. - -"Lie down!" screamed my pain and despair; "lie down!" - -The nearer I struggled, the more awfully remote it seemed. I was numb, -I stumbled, I bruised and cut myself and did not bleed. - -It was in sight. - -I fell on all fours, and my lungs whooped. - -I crawled. The frost gathered on my lips, icicles hung from my moustache, -I was white with the freezing atmosphere. - -I was a dozen yards from it. My eyes had become dim. "Lie down!" screamed -despair; "lie down!" - -I touched it, and halted. "Too late!" screamed despair; "lie down!" - -I fought stiffly with it. I was on the manhole lip, a stupefied, half-dead -being. The snow was all about me. I pulled myself in. There lurked within -a little warmer air. - -The snowflakes--the airflakes--danced in about me, as I tried with -chilling hands to thrust the valve in and spun it tight and hard. I -sobbed. "I will," I chattered in my teeth. And then, with fingers that -quivered and felt brittle, I turned to the shutter studs. - -As I fumbled with the switches--for I had never controlled them before--I -could see dimly through the steaming glass the blazing red streamers of -the sinking sun, dancing and flickering through the snowstorm, and the -black forms of the scrub thickening and bending and breaking beneath the -accumulating snow. Thicker whirled the snow and thicker, black against -the light. What if even now the switches overcame me? Then something -clicked under my hands, and in an instant that last vision of the moon -world was hidden from my eyes. I was in the silence and darkness of the -inter-planetary sphere. - - - - - -Chapter 20 - - - - -Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space - -It was almost as though I had been killed. Indeed, I could imagine a man -suddenly and violently killed would feel very much as I did. One moment, a -passion of agonising existence and fear; the next darkness and stillness, -neither light nor life nor sun, moon nor stars, the blank infinite. -Although the thing was done by my own act, although I had already tasted -this very of effect in Cavor's company, I felt astonished, dumbfounded, -and overwhelmed. I seemed to be borne upward into an enormous darkness. My -fingers floated off the studs, I hung as if I were annihilated, and at -last very softly and gently I came against the bale and the golden chain, -and the crowbars that had drifted to the middle of the sphere. - -I do not know how long that drifting took. In the sphere of course, even -more than on the moon, one's earthly time sense was ineffectual. At the -touch of the bale it was as if I had awakened from a dreamless sleep. I -immediately perceived that if I wanted to keep awake and alive I must get -a light or open a window, so as to get a grip of something with my eyes. -And besides, I was cold. I kicked off from the bale, therefore, clawed on -to the thin cords within the glass, crawled along until I got to the -manhole rim, and so got my bearings for the light and blind studs, took a -shove off, and flying once round the bale, and getting a scare from -something big and flimsy that was drifting loose, I got my hand on the -cord quite close to the studs, and reached them. I lit the little lamp -first of all to see what it was I had collided with, and discovered that -old copy of _Lloyd's News_ had slipped its moorings, and was adrift in -the void. That brought me out of the infinite to my own proper dimensions -again. It made me laugh and pant for a time, and suggested the idea of a -little oxygen from one of the cylinders. After that I lit the heater until -I felt warm, and then I took food. Then I set to work in a very gingerly -fashion on the Cavorite blinds, to see if I could guess by any means how -the sphere was travelling. - -The first blind I opened I shut at once, and hung for a time flattened and -blinded by the sunlight that had hit me. After thinking a little I started -upon the windows at right angles to this one, and got the huge crescent -moon and the little crescent earth behind it, the second time. I was -amazed to find how far I was from the moon. I had reckoned that not only -should I have little or none of the "kick-off" that the earth's atmosphere -had given us at our start, but that the tangential "fly off" of the moon's -spin would be at least twenty-eight times less than the earth's. I had -expected to discover myself hanging over our crater, and on the edge of -the night, but all that was now only a part of the outline of the white -crescent that filled the sky. And Cavor--? - -He was already infinitesimal. - -I tried to imagine what could have happened to him. But at that time I -could think of nothing but death. I seemed to see him, bent and smashed -at the foot of some interminably high cascade of blue. And all about him -the stupid insects stared... - -Under the inspiring touch of the drifting newspaper I became practical -again for a while. It was quite clear to me that what I had to do was to -get back to earth, but as far as I could see I was drifting away from it. -Whatever had happened to Cavor, even if he was still alive, which seemed -to me incredible after that blood-stained scrap, I was powerless to help -him. There he was, living or dead behind the mantle of that rayless night, -and there he must remain at least until I could summon our fellow men to -his assistance. Should I do that? Something of the sort I had in my mind; -to come back to earth if it were possible, and then as maturer -consideration might determine, either to show and explain the sphere to a -few discreet persons, and act with them, or else to keep my secret, sell -my gold, obtain weapons, provisions, and an assistant, and return with -these advantages to deal on equal terms with the flimsy people of the -moon, to rescue Cavor, if that were still possible, and at any rate to -procure a sufficient supply of gold to place my subsequent proceedings on -a firmer basis. But that was hoping far; I had first to get back. - -I set myself to decide just exactly how the return to earth could be -contrived. As I struggled with that problem I ceased to worry about what I -should do when I got there. At last my only care was to get back. - -I puzzled out at last that my best chance would be to drop back towards -the moon as near as I dared in order to gather velocity, then to shut my -windows, and fly behind it, and when I was past to open my earthward -windows, and so get off at a good pace homeward. But whether I should ever -reach the earth by that device, or whether I might not simply find myself -spinning about it in some hyperbolic or parabolic curve or other, I could -not tell. Later I had a happy inspiration, and by opening certain windows -to the moon, which had appeared in the sky in front of the earth, I turned -my course aside so as to head off the earth, which it had become evident -to me I must pass behind without some such expedient. I did a very great -deal of complicated thinking over these problems--for I am no -mathematician--and in the end I am certain it was much more my good luck -than my reasoning that enabled me to hit the earth. Had I known then, as I -know now, the mathematical chances there were against me, I doubt if I -should have troubled even to touch the studs to make any attempt. And -having puzzled out what I considered to be the thing to do, I opened all -my moonward windows, and squatted down--the effort lifted me for a time -some feet or so into the air, and I hung there in the oddest way--and -waited for the crescent to get bigger and bigger until I felt I was near -enough for safety. Then I would shut the windows, fly past the moon with -the velocity I had got from it--if I did not smash upon it--and so go on -towards the earth. - -And that is what I did. - -At last I felt my moonward start was sufficient. I shut out the sight of -the moon from my eyes, and in a state of mind that was, I now recall, -incredibly free from anxiety or any distressful quality, I sat down to -begin a vigil in that little speck of matter in infinite space that would -last until I should strike the earth. The heater had made the sphere -tolerably warm, the air had been refreshed by the oxygen, and except for -that faint congestion of the head that was always with me while I was away -from earth, I felt entire physical comfort. I had extinguished the light -again, lest it should fail me in the end; I was in darkness, save for the -earthshine and the glitter of the stars below me. Everything was so -absolutely silent and still that I might indeed have been the only being -in the universe, and yet, strangely enough, I had no more feeling of -loneliness or fear than if I had been lying in bed on earth. Now, this -seems all the stranger to me, since during my last hours in that crater of -the moon, the sense of my utter loneliness had been an agony.... - -Incredible as it will seem, this interval of time that I spent in space -has no sort of proportion to any other interval of time in my life. -Sometimes it seemed as though I sat through immeasurable eternities like -some god upon a lotus leaf, and again as though there was a momentary -pause as I leapt from moon to earth. In truth, it was altogether some -weeks of earthly time. But I had done with care and anxiety, hunger or -fear, for that space. I floated, thinking with a strange breadth and -freedom of all that we had undergone, and of all my life and motives, and -the secret issues of my being. I seemed to myself to have grown greater -and greater, to have lost all sense of movement; to be floating amidst the -stars, and always the sense of earth's littleness and the infinite -littleness of my life upon it, was implicit in my thoughts. - -I can't profess to explain the things that happened in my mind. No doubt -they could all be traced directly or indirectly to the curious physical -conditions under which I was living. I set them down here just for what -they are worth, and without any comment. The most prominent quality of it -was a pervading doubt of my own identity. I became, if I may so express -it, dissociate from Bedford; I looked down on Bedford as a trivial, -incidental thing with which I chanced to be connected. I saw Bedford in -many relations--as an ass or as a poor beast, where I had hitherto been -inclined to regard him with a quiet pride as a very spirited or rather -forcible person. I saw him not only as an ass, but as the son of many -generations of asses. I reviewed his school-days and his early manhood, -and his first encounter with love, very much as one might review the -proceedings of an ant in the sand. Something of that period of lucidity I -regret still hangs about me, and I doubt if I shall ever recover the -full-bodied self satisfaction of my early days. But at the time the thing -was not in the least painful, because I had that extraordinary persuasion -that, as a matter of fact, I was no more Bedford than I was any one else, -but only a mind floating in the still serenity of space. Why should I be -disturbed about this Bedford's shortcomings? I was not responsible for him -or them. - -For a time I struggled against this really very grotesque delusion. I -tried to summon the memory of vivid moments, of tender or intense emotions -to my assistance; I felt that if I could recall one genuine twinge of -feeling the growing severance would be stopped. But I could not do it. I -saw Bedford rushing down Chancery Lane, hat on the back of his head, coat -tails flying out, en route for his public examination. I saw him dodging -and bumping against, and even saluting, other similar little creatures in -that swarming gutter of people. Me? I saw Bedford that same evening in the -sitting-room of a certain lady, and his hat was on the table beside him, -and it wanted brushing badly, and he was in tears. Me? I saw him with -that lady in various attitudes and emotions--I never felt so detached -before.... I saw him hurrying off to Lympne to write a play, and accosting -Cavor, and in his shirt sleeves working at the sphere, and walking out to -Canterbury because he was afraid to come! Me? I did not believe it. - -I still reasoned that all this was hallucination due to my solitude, and -the fact that I had lost all weight and sense of resistance. I endeavoured -to recover that sense by banging myself about the sphere, by pinching my -hands and clasping them together. Among other things, I lit the light, -captured that torn copy of _Lloyd's_, and read those convincingly realistic -advertisements about the Cutaway bicycle, and the gentleman of private -means, and the lady in distress who was selling those "forks and spoons." -There was no doubt _they_ existed surely enough, and, said I, "This is -your world, and you are Bedford, and you are going back to live among -things like that for all the rest of your life." But the doubts within -me could still argue: "It is not you that is reading, it is Bedford, but -you are not Bedford, you know. That's just where the mistake comes in." - -"Confound it!" I cried; "and if I am not Bedford, what am I?" - -But in that direction no light was forthcoming, though the strangest -fancies came drifting into my brain, queer remote suspicions, like shadows -seen from away. Do you know, I had a sort of idea that really I was -something quite outside not only the world, but all worlds, and out of -space and time, and that this poor Bedford was just a peephole through -which I looked at life? ... - -Bedford! However I disavowed him, there I was most certainly bound up with -him, and I knew that wherever or whatever I might be, I must needs feel -the stress of his desires, and sympathise with all his joys and sorrows -until his life should end. And with the dying of Bedford--what then? ... - -Enough of this remarkable phase of my experiences! I tell it here simply -to show how one's isolation and departure from this planet touched not -only the functions and feeling of every organ of the body, but indeed also -the very fabric of the mind, with strange and unanticipated disturbances. -All through the major portion of that vast space journey I hung thinking -of such immaterial things as these, hung dissociated and apathetic, a -cloudy megalomaniac, as it were, amidst the stars and planets in the void -of space; and not only the world to which I was returning, but the -blue-lit caverns of the Selenites, their helmet faces, their gigantic and -wonderful machines, and the fate of Cavor, dragged helpless into that -world, seemed infinitely minute and altogether trivial things to me. - -Until at last I began to feel the pull of the earth upon my being, drawing -me back again to the life that is real for men. And then, indeed, it grew -clearer and clearer to me that I was quite certainly Bedford after all, -and returning after amazing adventures to this world of ours, and with a -life that I was very likely to lose in this return. I set myself to puzzle -out the conditions under which I must fall to earth. - - - - - -Chapter 21 - - - - -Mr. Bedford at Littlestone - -My line of flight was about parallel with the surface as I came into the -upper air. The temperature of sphere began to rise forthwith. I knew it -behoved me to drop at once. Far below me, in a darkling twilight, stretched -a great expanse of sea. I opened every window I could, and fell--out -of sunshine into evening, and out of evening into night. Vaster grew -the earth and vaster, swallowing up the stars, and the silvery translucent -starlit veil of cloud it wore spread out to catch me. At last the world -seemed no longer a sphere but flat, and then concave. It was no longer a -planet in the sky, but the world of Man. I shut all but an inch or so of -earthward window, and dropped with a slackening velocity. The broadening -water, now so near that I could see the dark glitter of the waves, rushed -up to meet me. The sphere became very hot. I snapped the last strip of -window, and sat scowling and biting my knuckles, waiting for the impact.... - -The sphere hit the water with a huge splash: it must have sent it fathoms -high. At the splash I flung the Cavorite shutters open. Down I went, but -slower and slower, and then I felt the sphere pressing against my feet, -and so drove up again as a bubble drives. And at the last I was floating -and rocking upon the surface of the sea, and my journey in space was at an -end. - -The night was dark and overcast. Two yellow pinpoints far away showed the -passing of a ship, and nearer was a red glare that came and went. Had not -the electricity of my glow-lamp exhausted itself, I could have got picked -up that night. In spite of the inordinate fatigue I was beginning to feel, -I was excited now, and for a time hopeful, in a feverish, impatient way, -that so my travelling might end. - -But at last I ceased to move about, and sat, wrists on knees, staring at a -distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My excitement -passed. I realised I had yet to spend another night at least in the -sphere. I perceived myself infinitely heavy and fatigued. And so I fell -asleep. - -A change in my rhythmic motion awakened me. I peered through the -refracting glass, and saw that I had come aground upon a huge shallow of -sand. Far away I seemed to see houses and trees, and seaward a curve, -vague distortion of a ship hung between sea and sky. - -I stood up and staggered. My one desire was to emerge. The manhole was -upward, and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly I opened the manhole. At -last the air was singing in again as once it had sung out. But this time -I did not wait until the pressure was adjusted. In another moment I had -the weight of the window on my hands, and I was open, wide open, to the -old familiar sky of earth. - -The air hit me on the chest so that I gasped. I dropped the glass screw. I -cried out, put my hands to my chest, and sat down. For a time I was in -pain. Then I took deep breaths. At last I could rise and move about -again. - -I tried to thrust my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled over. -It was as though something had lugged my head down directly it emerged. I -ducked back sharply, or I should have been pinned face under water. After -some wriggling and shoving I managed to crawl out upon sand, over which -the retreating waves still came and went. - -I did not attempt to stand up. It seemed to me that my body must be -suddenly changed to lead. Mother Earth had her grip on me now--no -Cavorite intervening. I sat down heedless of the water that came over my -feet. - -It was dawn, a gray dawn, rather overcast but showing here and there a -long patch of greenish gray. Some way out a ship was lying at anchor, a -pale silhouette of a ship with one yellow light. The water came rippling -in in long shallow waves. Away to the right curved the land, a shingle -bank with little hovels, and at last a lighthouse, a sailing mark and a -point. Inland stretched a space of level sand, broken here and there by -pools of water, and ending a mile away perhaps in a low shore of scrub. To -the north-east some isolated watering-place was visible, a row of gaunt -lodging-houses, the tallest things that I could see on earth, dull dabs -against the brightening sky. What strange men can have reared these -vertical piles in such an amplitude of space I do not know. There they -are, like pieces of Brighton lost in the waste. - -For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. At last I -struggled to rise. It made me feel that I was lifting a weight. I stood -up. - -I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since our starvation in -the crater I thought of earthly food. "Bacon," I whispered, "eggs. Good -toast and good coffee.... And how the devil am I going to get all this -stuff to Lympne?" I wondered where I was. It was an east shore anyhow, -and I had seen Europe before I dropped. - -I heard footsteps crunching in the sand, and a little round-faced, -friendly-looking man in flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped about his -shoulders, and his bathing dress over his arm, appeared up the beach. I -knew instantly that I must be in England. He was staring most intently at -the sphere and me. He advanced staring. I dare say I looked a ferocious -savage enough--dirty, unkempt, to an indescribable degree; but it did not -occur to me at the time. He stopped at a distance of twenty yards. -"Hul-lo, my man!" he said doubtfully. - -"Hullo yourself!" said I. - -He advanced, reassured by that. "What on earth is that thing?" he asked. - -"Can you tell me where I am?" I asked. - -"That's Littlestone," he said, pointing to the houses; "and that's -Dungeness! Have you just landed? What's that thing you've got? Some sort -of machine?" - -"Yes." - -"Have you floated ashore? Have you been wrecked or something? What is it?" - -I meditated swiftly. I made an estimate of the little man's appearance as -he drew nearer. "By Jove!" he said, "you've had a time of it! I thought -you-- Well-- Where were you cast away? Is that thing a sort of floating -thing for saving life?" - -I decided to take that line for the present. I made a few vague -affirmatives. "I want help," I said hoarsely. "I want to get some stuff -up the beach--stuff I can't very well leave about." I became aware of -three other pleasant-looking young men with towels, blazers, and straw -hats, coming down the sands towards me. Evidently the early bathing -section of this Littlestone. - -"Help!" said the young man: "rather!" He became vaguely active. "What -particularly do you want done?" He turned round and gesticulated. The -three young men accelerated their pace. In a minute they there about me, -plying me with questions I was indisposed to answer. "I'll tell all that -later," I said. "I'm dead beat. I'm a rag." - -"Come up to the hotel," said the foremost little man. "We'll look after -that thing there." - -I hesitated. "I can't," I said. "In that sphere there's two big bars of -gold." - -They looked incredulously at one another, then at me with a new inquiry. -I went to the sphere, stooped, crept in, and presently they had the -Selenites' crowbars and the broken chain before them. If I had not been so -horribly fagged I could have laughed at them. It was like kittens round a -beetle. They didn't know what to do with the stuff. The fat little man -stooped and lifted the end of one of the bars, and then dropped it with a -grunt. Then they all did. - -"It's lead, or gold!" said one. - -"Oh, it's gold!" said another. - -"Gold, right enough," said the third. - -Then they all stared at me, and then they all stared at the ship lying at -anchor. - -"I say!" cried the little man. "But where did you get that?" - -I was too tired to keep up a lie. "I got it in the moon." - -I saw them stare at one another. - -"Look here!" said I, "I'm not going to argue now. Help me carry these -lumps of gold up to the hotel--I guess, with rests, two of you can manage -one, and I'll trail this chain thing--and I'll tell you more when I've -had some food." - -"And how about that thing?" - -"It won't hurt there," I said. "Anyhow--confound it!--it must stop there -now. If the tide comes up, it will float all right." - -And in a state of enormous wonderment, these young men most obediently -hoisted my treasures on their shoulders, and with limbs that felt like -lead I headed a sort of procession towards that distant fragment of -"sea-front." Half-way there we were reinforced by two awe-stricken little -girls with spades, and later a lean little boy, with a penetrating sniff, -appeared. He was, I remember, wheeling a bicycle, and he accompanied us at -a distance of about a hundred yards on our right flank, and then I -suppose, gave us up as uninteresting, mounted his bicycle and rode off -over the level sands in the direction of the sphere. - -I glanced back after him. - -"He won't touch it," said the stout young man reassuringly, and I was only -too willing to be reassured. - -At first something of the gray of the morning was in my mind, but -presently the sun disengaged itself from the level clouds of the horizon -and lit the world, and turned the leaden sea to glittering waters. My -spirits rose. A sense of the vast importance of the things I had done and -had yet to do came with the sunlight into my mind. I laughed aloud as the -foremost man staggered under my gold. When indeed I took my place in the -world, how amazed the world would be! - -If it had not been for my inordinate fatigue, the landlord of the -Littlestone hotel would have been amusing, as he hesitated between my gold -and my respectable company on the one and my filthy appearance on the -other. But at last I found myself in a terrestrial bathroom once more with -warm water to wash myself with, and a change of raiment, preposterously -small indeed, but anyhow clean, that the genial little man had lent me. He -lent me a razor too, but I could not screw up my resolution to attack even -the outposts of the bristling beard that covered my face. - -I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a sort of languid -appetite--an appetite many weeks old and very decrepit--and stirred myself -to answer the questions of the four young men. And I told them the truth. - -"Well," said I, "as you press me--I got it in the moon." - -"The moon?" - -"Yes, the moon in the sky." - -"But how do you mean?" - -"What I say, confound it!" - -"Then you have just come from the moon?" - -"Exactly! through space--in that ball." And I took a delicious mouthful -of egg. I made a private note that when I went back to the moon I would -take a box of eggs. - -I could see clearly that they did not believe one word what I told them, -but evidently they considered me the most respectable liar they had ever -met. They glanced at one another, and then concentrated the fire of their -eyes on me. I fancy they expected a clue to me in the way I helped myself -to salt. They seemed to find something significant in my peppering my egg. -These strangely shaped masses of gold they had staggered under held their -minds. There the lumps lay in front of me, each worth thousands of pounds, -and as impossible for any one to steal as a house or a piece of land. As I -looked at their curious faces over my coffee-cup, I realised something of -the enormous wilderness of explanations into which I should have to wander -to render myself comprehensible again. - -"You don't really mean--" began the youngest young man, in the tone of one -who speaks to an obstinate child. - -"Just pass me that toast-rack," I said, and shut him up completely. - -"But look here, I say," began one of the others. "We're not going to -believe that, you know." - -"Ah, well," said I, and shrugged my shoulders. - -"He doesn't want to tell us," said the youngest young man in a stage -aside; and then, with an appearance of great sang-froid, "You don't mind -if I take a cigarette?" - -I waved him a cordial assent, and proceeded with my breakfast. Two of the -others went and looked out of the farther window and talked inaudibly. I -was struck by a thought. "The tide," I said, "is running out?" - -There was a pause, a doubt who should answer me. - -"It's near the ebb," said the fat little man. - -"Well, anyhow," I said, "it won't float far." - -I decapitated my third egg, and began a little speech. "Look here," I -said. "Please don't imagine I'm surly or telling you uncivil lies, or -anything of that sort. I'm forced almost, to be a little short and -mysterious. I can quite understand this is as queer as it can be, and -that your imaginations must be going it. I can assure you, you're in at a -memorable time. But I can't make it clear to you now--it's impossible. I -give you my word of honour I've come from the moon, and that's all I can -tell you.... All the same, I'm tremendously obliged to you, you know, -tremendously. I hope that my manner hasn't in any way given you offence." - -"Oh, not in the least!" said the youngest young man affably. "We can quite -understand," and staring hard at me all the time, he heeled his chair back -until it very nearly upset, and recovered with some exertion. "Not a bit -of it," said the fat young man. - -"Don't you imagine that!" and they all got up and dispersed, and walked -about and lit cigarettes, and generally tried to show they were perfectly -amiable and disengaged, and entirely free from the slightest curiosity -about me and the sphere. "I'm going to keep an eye on that ship out there -all the same," I heard one of them remarking in an undertone. If only they -could have forced themselves to it, they would, I believe, even have gone -out and left me. I went on with my third egg. - -"The weather," the fat little man remarked presently, "has been immense, -has it not? I don't know when we have had such a summer." - -Phoo-whizz! Like a tremendous rocket! - -And somewhere a window was broken.... - -"What's that?" said I. - -"It isn't--?" cried the little man, and rushed to the corner window. - -All the others rushed to the window likewise. I sat staring at them. - -Suddenly I leapt up, knocked over my third egg, rushed for the window -also. I had just thought of something. "Nothing to be seen there," cried -the little man, rushing for the door. - -"It's that boy!" I cried, bawling in hoarse fury; "it's that accursed -boy!" and turning about I pushed the waiter aside--he was just bring me -some more toast--and rushed violently out of the room and down and out -upon the queer little esplanade in front of the hotel. - -The sea, which had been smooth, was rough now with hurrying cat's-paws, -and all about where the sphere had been was tumbled water like the wake of -a ship. Above, a little puff of cloud whirled like dispersing smoke, and -the three or four people on the beach were staring up with interrogative -faces towards the point of that unexpected report. And that was all! Boots -and waiter and the four young men in blazers came rushing out behind me. -Shouts came from windows and doors, and all sorts of worrying people came -into sight--agape. - -For a time I stood there, too overwhelmed by this new development to think -of the people. - -At first I was too stunned to see the thing as any definite disaster--I -was just stunned, as a man is by some accidental violent blow. It is only -afterwards he begins to appreciate his specific injury. - -"Good Lord!" - -I felt as though somebody was pouring funk out of a can down the back of -my neck. My legs became feeble. I had got the first intimation of what the -disaster meant for me. There was that confounded boy--sky high! I was -utterly left. There was the gold in the coffee-room--my only possession -on earth. How would it all work out? The general effect was of a gigantic -unmanageable confusion. - -"I say," said the voice of the little man behind. "I say, you know." - -I wheeled about, and there were twenty or thirty people, a sort of -irregular investment of people, all bombarding me with dumb interrogation, -with infinite doubt and suspicion. I felt the compulsion of their eyes -intolerably. I groaned aloud. - -"I _can't_," I shouted. "I tell you I can't! I'm not equal to it! You must -puzzle and--and be damned to you!" - -I gesticulated convulsively. He receded a step as though I had threatened -him. I made a bolt through them into the hotel. I charged back into the -coffee-room, rang the bell furiously. I gripped the waiter as he entered. -"D'ye hear?" I shouted. "Get help and carry these bars up to my room right -away." - -He failed to understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A -scared-looking little old man in a green apron appeared, and further two -of the young men in flannels. I made a dash at them and commandeered their -services. As soon as the gold was in my room I felt free to quarrel. "Now -get out," I shouted; "all of you get out if you don't want to see a man go -mad before your eyes!" And I helped the waiter by the shoulder as he -hesitated in the doorway. And then, as soon as I had the door locked on -them all, I tore off the little man's clothes again, shied them right and -left, and got into bed forthwith. And there I lay swearing and panting and -cooling for a very long time. - -At last I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring up the round-eyed -waiter for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good cigars. -And these things being procured me, after an exasperating delay that drove -me several times to the bell, I locked the door again and proceeded very -deliberately to look the entire situation in the face. - -The net result of the great experiment presented itself as an absolute -failure. It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was an absolute -collapse, and this was the final disaster. There was nothing for it but to -save myself, and as much as I could in the way of prospects from our -debacle. At one fatal crowning blow all my vague resolutions of return and -recovery had vanished. My intention of going back to the moon, of getting -a sphereful of gold, and afterwards of having a fragment of Cavorite -analysed and so recovering the great secret--perhaps, finally, even of -recovering Cavor's body--all these ideas vanished altogether. - -I was the sole survivor, and that was all. - -I think that going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had in -an emergency. I really believe I should either have got loose-headed or -done some indiscreet thing. But there, locked in and secure from all -interruptions, I could think out the position in all its bearings and make -my arrangements at leisure. - -Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He had -crawled into the sphere, meddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite -windows, and gone up. It was highly improbable he had screwed the manhole -stopper, and, even if he had, the chances were a thousand to one against -his getting back. It was fairly evident that he would gravitate with my -bales to somewhere near the middle of the sphere and remain there, and so -cease to be a legitimate terrestrial interest, however remarkable he might -seem to the inhabitants of some remote quarter of space. I very speedily -convinced myself on that point. And as for any responsibility I might have -in the matter, the more I reflected upon that, the clearer it became that -if only I kept quiet about things, I need not trouble myself about that. -If I was faced by sorrowing parents demanding their lost boy, I had merely -to demand my lost sphere--or ask them what they meant. At first I had had -a vision of weeping parents and guardians, and all sorts of complications; -but now I saw that I simply had to keep my mouth shut, and nothing in that -way could arise. And, indeed, the more I lay and smoked and thought, the -more evident became the wisdom of impenetrability. - -It is within the right of every British citizen, provided he does not -commit damage nor indecorum, to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, and -as ragged and filthy as he pleases, and with whatever amount of virgin -gold he sees fit to encumber himself, and no one has any right at all to -hinder and detain him in this procedure. I formulated that at last to -myself, and repeated it over as a sort of private Magna Charta of my -liberty. - -Once I had put that issue on one side, I could take up and consider in an -equable manner certain considerations I had scarcely dared to think of -before, namely, those arising out of the circumstances of my bankruptcy. -But now, looking at this matter calmly and at leisure, I could see that if -only I suppressed my identity by a temporary assumption of some less -well-known name, and if I retained the two months' beard that had grown -upon me, the risks of any annoyance from the spiteful creditor to whom I -have already alluded became very small indeed. From that to a definite -course of rational worldly action was plain sailing. It was all amazingly -petty, no doubt, but what was there remaining for me to do? - -Whatever I did I was resolved that I would keep myself level and right -side up. - -I ordered up writing materials, and addressed a letter to the New Romney -Bank--the nearest, the waiter informed me--telling the manager I wished -to open an account with him, and requesting him to send two trustworthy -persons properly authenticated in a cab with a good horse to fetch some -hundredweight of gold with which I happened to be encumbered. I signed the -letter "Blake," which seemed to me to be a thoroughly respectable sort of -name. This done, I got a Folkstone Blue Book, picked out an outfitter, and -asked him to send a cutter to measure me for a dark tweed suit, ordering -at the same time a valise, dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, hat (to -fit), and so forth; and from a watchmaker I also ordered a watch. And -these letters being despatched, I had up as good a lunch as the hotel -could give, and then lay smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as -possible, until in accordance with my instructions two duly authenticated -clerks came from the bank and weighed and took away my gold. After which I -pulled the clothes over my ears in order to drown any knocking, and went -very comfortably to sleep. - -I went to sleep. No doubt it was a prosaic thing for the first man back -from the moon to do, and I can imagine that the young and imaginative -reader will find my behaviour disappointing. But I was horribly fatigued -and bothered, and, confound it! what else was there to do? There certainly -was not the remotest chance of my being believed, if I had told my story -then, and it would certainly have subjected me to intolerable annoyances. -I went to sleep. When at last I woke up again I was ready to face the -world as I have always been accustomed to face it since I came to years of -discretion. And so I got away to Italy, and there it is I am writing this -story. If the world will not have it as fact, then the world may take it -as fiction. It is no concern of mine. - -And now that the account is finished, I am amazed to think how completely -this adventure is gone and done with. Everybody believes that Cavor was a -not very brilliant scientific experimenter who blew up his house and -himself at Lympne, and they explain the bang that followed my arrival at -Littlestone by a reference to the experiments with explosives that are -going on continually at the government establishment of Lydd, two miles -away. I must confess that hitherto I have not acknowledged my share in the -disappearance of Master Tommy Simmons, which was that little boy's name. -That, perhaps, may prove a difficult item of corroboration to explain -away. They account for my appearance in rags with two bars of indisputable -gold upon the Littlestone beach in various ingenious ways--it doesn't -worry me what they think of me. They say I have strung all these things -together to avoid being questioned too closely as to the source of my -wealth. I would like to see the man who could invent a story that would -hold together like this one. Well, they must take it as fiction--there it -is. - -I have told my story--and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries -of this terrestrial life again. Even if one has been to the moon, one has -still to earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi, on the scenario of -that play I sketched before Cavor came walking into my world, and I am -trying to piece my life together as it was before ever I saw him. I must -confess that I find it hard to keep my mind on the play when the moonshine -comes into my room. It is full moon here, and last night I was out on the -pergola for hours, staring away at the shining blankness that hides so -much. Imagine it! tables and chairs, and trestles and bars of gold! -Confound it!--if only one could hit on that Cavorite again! But a thing -like that doesn't come twice in a life. Here I am, a little better off -than I was at Lympne, and that is all. And Cavor has committed suicide in -a more elaborate way than any human being ever did before. So the story -closes as finally and completely as a dream. It fits in so little with -all the other things of life, so much of it is so utterly remote from all -human experience, the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and these -weightless times, that indeed there are moments when, in spite of my -moon gold, I do more than half believe myself that the whole thing was -a dream.... - - - - - -Chapter 22 - - - - -The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee - -When I had finished my account of my return to the earth at Littlestone, I -wrote, "The End," made a flourish, and threw my pen aside, fully believing -that the whole story of the First Men in the Moon was done. Not only had I -done this, but I had placed my manuscript in the hands of a literary -agent, had permitted it to be sold, had seen the greater portion of it -appear in the _Strand Magazine_, and was setting to work again upon the -scenario of the play I had commenced at Lympne before I realised that the -end was not yet. And then, following me from Amalfi to Algiers, there -reached me (it is now about six months ago) one of the most astounding -communications I have ever been fated to receive. Briefly, it informed me -that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a Dutch electrician, who has been experimenting -with certain apparatus akin to the apparatus used by Mr. Tesla in America, -in the hope of discovering some method of communication with Mars, was -receiving day by day a curiously fragmentary message in English, which was -indisputably emanating from Mr. Cavor in the moon. - -At first I thought the thing was an elaborate practical joke by some one -who had seen the manuscript of my narrative. I answered Mr. Wendigee -jestingly, but he replied in a manner that put such suspicion altogether -aside, and in a state of inconceivable excitement I hurried from Algiers -to the little observatory upon the Monte Rosa in which he was working. In -the presence of his record and his appliances--and above all of the -messages from Cavor that were coming to hand--my lingering doubts -vanished. I decided at once to accept a proposal he made to me to remain -with him, assisting him to take down the record from day to day, and -endeavouring with him to send a message back to the moon. Cavor, we -learnt, was not only alive, but free, in the midst of an almost -inconceivable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, in the -blue darkness of the lunar caves. He was lamed, it seemed, but otherwise -in quite good health--in better health, he distinctly said, than he -usually enjoyed on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left no bad -effects. But curiously enough he seemed to be labouring under a conviction -that I was either dead in the moon crater or lost in the deep of space. - -His message began to be received by Mr. Wendigee when that gentleman was -engaged in quite a different investigation. The reader will no doubt -recall the little excitement that began the century, arising out of an -announcement by Mr. Nikola Tesla, the American electrical celebrity, that -he had received a message from Mars. His announcement renewed attention to -fact that had long been familiar to scientific people, namely: that from -some unknown source in space, waves of electromagnetic disturbance, -entirely similar those used by Signor Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, -are constantly reaching the earth. Besides Tesla quite a number of other -observers have been engaged in perfecting apparatus for receiving and -recording these vibrations, though few would go so far to consider them -actual messages from some extraterrestrial sender. Among that few, -however, we must certainly count Mr. Wendigee. Ever since 1898 he had -devoted himself almost entirely to this subject, and being a man of ample -means he had erected an observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in a -position singularly adapted in every way for such observations. - -My scientific attainments, I must admit, are not great, but so far as they -enable me to judge, Mr. Wendigee's contrivances for detecting and -recording any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space are -singularly original and ingenious. And by a happy combination of -circumstances they were set up and in operation about two months before -Cavor made his first attempt to call up the earth. Consequently we have -fragments of his communication even from the beginning. Unhappily, they -are only fragments, and the most momentous of all the things that he had -to tell humanity--the instructions, that is, for the making of Cavorite, -if, indeed, he ever transmitted them--have throbbed themselves away -unrecorded into space. We never succeeded in getting a response back to -Cavor. He was unable to tell, therefore, what we had received or what we -had missed; nor, indeed, did he certainly know that any one on earth was -really aware of his efforts to reach us. And the persistence he displayed -in sending eighteen long descriptions of lunar affairs--as they would be -if we had them complete--shows how much his mind must have turned back -towards his native planet since he left it two years ago. - -You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been when he discovered -his record of electromagnetic disturbances interlaced by Cavor's -straightforward English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild journey -moonward, and suddenly--this English out of the void! - -It is well the reader should understand the conditions under which it -would seem these messages were sent. Somewhere within the moon Cavor -certainly had access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical -apparatus, and it would seem he rigged up--perhaps furtively--a -transmitting arrangement of the Marconi type. This he was able to operate -at irregular intervals: sometimes for only half an hour or so, sometimes -for three or four hours at a stretch. At these times he transmitted his -earthward message, regardless of the fact that the relative position of -the moon and points upon the earth's surface is constantly altering. As a -consequence of this and of the necessary imperfections of our recording -instruments his communication comes and goes in our records in an -extremely fitful manner; it becomes blurred; it "fades out" in a -mysterious and altogether exasperating way. And added to this is the fact -that he was not an expert operator; he had partly forgotten, or never -completely mastered, the code in general use, and as he became fatigued he -dropped words and misspelt in a curious manner. - -Altogether we have probably lost quite half of the communications he made, -and much we have is damaged, broken, and partly effaced. In the abstract -that follows the reader must be prepared therefore for a considerable -amount of break, hiatus, and change of topic. Mr. Wendigee and I are -collaborating in a complete and annotated edition of the Cavor record, -which we hope to publish, together with a detailed account of the -instruments employed, beginning with the first volume in January next. -That will be the full and scientific report, of which this is only the -popular transcript. But here we give at least sufficient to complete the -story I have told, and to give the broad outlines of the state of that -other world so near, so akin, and yet so dissimilar to our own. - - - - - -Chapter 23 - - - - -An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor - -The two earlier messages of Mr. Cavor may very well be reserved for that -larger volume. They simply tell, with greater brevity and with a -difference in several details that is interesting, but not of any vital -importance, the bare facts of the making of the sphere and our departure -from the world. Throughout, Cavor speaks of me as a man who is dead, but -with a curious change of temper as he approaches our landing on the moon. -"Poor Bedford," he says of me, and "this poor young man," and he blames -himself for inducing a young man, "by no means well equipped for such -adventures," to leave a planet "on which he was indisputably fitted to -succeed" on so precarious a mission. I think he underrates the part my -energy and practical capacity played in bringing about the realisation of -his theoretical sphere. "We arrived," he says, with no more account of our -passage through space than if we had made a journey of common occurrence -in a railway train. - -And then he becomes increasingly unfair to me. Unfair, indeed, to an -extent I should not have expected in a man trained in the search for -truth. Looking back over my previously written account of these things, I -must insist that I have been altogether juster to Cavor than he has been -to me. I have extenuated little and suppressed nothing. But his account -is:-- - -"It speedily became apparent that the entire strangeness of our -circumstances and surroundings--great loss of weight, attenuated but -highly oxygenated air, consequent exaggeration of the results of muscular -effort, rapid development of weird plants from obscure spores, lurid -sky--was exciting my companion unduly. On the moon his character seemed to -deteriorate. He became impulsive, rash, and quarrelsome. In a little while -his folly in devouring some gigantic vesicles and his consequent -intoxication led to our capture by the Selenites--before we had had the -slightest opportunity of properly observing their ways...." - -(He says, you observe, nothing of his own concession to these same -"vesicles.") - -And he goes on from that point to say that "We came to a difficult passage -with them, and Bedford mistaking certain gestures of theirs"--pretty -gestures they were!--"gave way to a panic violence. He ran amuck, killed -three, and perforce I had to flee with him after the outrage. Subsequently -we fought with a number who endeavoured to bar our way, and slew seven or -eight more. It says much for the tolerance of these beings that on my -recapture I was not instantly slain. We made our way to the exterior and -separated in the crater of our arrival, to increase our chances of -recovering our sphere. But presently I came upon a body of Selenites, led -by two who were curiously different, even in form, from any of these we -had seen hitherto, with larger heads and smaller bodies, and much more -elaborately wrapped about. And after evading them for some time I fell -into a crevasse, cut my head rather badly, and displaced my patella, and, -finding crawling very painful, decided to surrender--if they would still -permit me to do so. This they did, and, perceiving my helpless condition, -carried me with them again into the moon. And of Bedford I have heard or -seen nothing more, nor, so far as I can gather, any Selenite. Either the -night overtook him in the crater, or else, which is more probable, he -found the sphere, and, desiring to steal a march upon me, made off with -it--only, I fear, to find it uncontrollable, and to meet a more lingering -fate in outer space." - -And with that Cavor dismisses me and goes on to more interesting topics. I -dislike the idea of seeming to use my position as his editor to deflect -his story in my own interest, but I am obliged to protest here against the -turn he gives these occurrences. He said nothing about that gasping -message on the blood-stained paper in which he told, or attempted to tell, -a very different story. The dignified self-surrender is an altogether new -view of the affair that has come to him, I must insist, since he began to -feel secure among the lunar people; and as for the "stealing a march" -conception, I am quite willing to let the reader decide between us on what -he has before him. I know I am not a model man--I have made no pretence -to be. But am I that? - -However, that is the sum of my wrongs. From this point I can edit Cavor -with an untroubled mind, for he mentions me no more. - -It would seem the Selenites who had come upon him carried him to some -point in the interior down "a great shaft" by means of what he describes -as "a sort of balloon." We gather from the rather confused passage in -which he describes this, and from a number of chance allusions and hints -in other and subsequent messages, that this "great shaft" is one of an -enormous system of artificial shafts that run, each from what is called a -lunar "crater," downwards for very nearly a hundred miles towards the -central portion of our satellite. These shafts communicate by transverse -tunnels, they throw out abysmal caverns and expand into great globular -places; the whole of the moon's substance for a hundred miles inward, -indeed, is a mere sponge of rock. "Partly," says Cavor, "this sponginess -is natural, but very largely it is due to the enormous industry of the -Selenites in the past. The enormous circular mounds of the excavated rock -and earth it is that form these great circles about the tunnels known to -earthly astronomers (misled by a false analogy) as volcanoes." - -It was down this shaft they took him, in this "sort of balloon" he speaks -of, at first into an inky blackness and then into a region of continually -increasing phosphorescence. Cavor's despatches show him to be curiously -regardless of detail for a scientific man, but we gather that this light -was due to the streams and cascades of water--"no doubt containing some -phosphorescent organism"--that flowed ever more abundantly downward -towards the Central Sea. And as he descended, he says, "The Selenites also -became luminous." And at last far below him he saw, as it were, a lake of -heatless fire, the waters of the Central Sea, glowing and eddying in -strange perturbation, "like luminous blue milk that is just on the boil." - -"This Lunar Sea," says Cavor, in a later passage "is not a stagnant ocean; -a solar tide sends it in a perpetual flow around the lunar axis, and -strange storms and boilings and rushings of its waters occur, and at times -cold winds and thunderings that ascend out of it into the busy ways of the -great ant-hill above. It is only when the water is in motion that it -gives out light; in its rare seasons of calm it is black. Commonly, when -one sees it, its waters rise and fall in an oily swell, and flakes and big -rafts of shining, bubbly foam drift with the sluggish, faintly glowing -current. The Selenites navigate its cavernous straits and lagoons in -little shallow boats of a canoe-like shape; and even before my journey to -the galleries about the Grand Lunar, who is Master of the Moon, I was -permitted to make a brief excursion on its waters. - -"The caverns and passages are naturally very tortuous. A large proportion -of these ways are known only to expert pilots among the fishermen, and not -infrequently Selenites are lost for ever in their labyrinths. In their -remoter recesses, I am told, strange creatures lurk, some of them terrible -and dangerous creatures that all the science of the moon has been unable -to exterminate. There is particularly the Rapha, an inextricable mass of -clutching tentacles that one hacks to pieces only to multiply; and the -Tzee, a darting creature that is never seen, so subtly and suddenly does -it slay..." - -He gives us a gleam of description. - -"I was reminded on this excursion of what I have read of the Mammoth -Caves; if only I had had a yellow flambeau instead of the pervading blue -light, and a solid-looking boatman with an oar instead of a scuttle-faced -Selenite working an engine at the back of the canoe, I could have imagined -I had suddenly got back to earth. The rocks about us were very various, -sometimes black, sometimes pale blue and veined, and once they flashed and -glittered as though we had come into a mine of sapphires. And below one -saw the ghostly phosphorescent fishes flash and vanish in the hardly less -phosphorescent deep. Then, presently, a long ultra-marine vista down the -turgid stream of one of the channels of traffic, and a landing stage, and -then, perhaps, a glimpse up the enormous crowded shaft of one of the -vertical ways. - -"In one great place heavy with glistening stalactites a number of boats -were fishing. We went alongside one of these and watched the long-armed -Selenites winding in a net. They were little, hunchbacked insects, with -very strong arms, short, bandy legs, and crinkled face-masks. As they -pulled at it that net seemed the heaviest thing I had come upon in the -moon; it was loaded with weights--no doubt of gold--and it took a long -time to draw, for in those waters the larger and more edible fish lurk -deep. The fish in the net came up like a blue moonrise--a blaze of -darting, tossing blue. - -"Among their catch was a many-tentaculate, evil-eyed black thing, -ferociously active, whose appearance they greeted with shrieks and -twitters, and which with quick, nervous movements they hacked to pieces by -means of little hatchets. All its dissevered limbs continued to lash and -writhe in a vicious manner. Afterwards, when fever had hold of me, I -dreamt again and again of that bitter, furious creature rising so vigorous -and active out of the unknown sea. It was the most active and malignant -thing of all the living creatures I have yet seen in this world inside the -moon.... - -"The surface of this sea must be very nearly two hundred miles (if not -more) below the level of the moon's exterior; all the cities of the moon -lie, I learnt, immediately above this Central Sea, in such cavernous -spaces and artificial galleries as I have described, and they communicate -with the exterior by enormous vertical shafts which open invariably in -what are called by earthly astronomers the 'craters' of the moon. The lid -covering one such aperture I had already seen during the wanderings that -had preceded my capture. - -"Upon the condition of the less central portion of the moon I have not yet -arrived at very precise knowledge. There is an enormous system of caverns -in which the mooncalves shelter during the night; and there are abattoirs -and the like--in one of these it was that I and Bedford fought with the -Selenite butchers--and I have since seen balloons laden with meat -descending out of the upper dark. I have as yet scarcely learnt as much of -these things as a Zulu in London would learn about the British corn -supplies in the same time. It is clear, however, that these vertical -shafts and the vegetation of the surface must play an essential role in -ventilating and keeping fresh the atmosphere of the moon. At one time, and -particularly on my first emergence from my prison, there was certainly a -cold wind blowing _down_ the shaft, and later there was a kind of sirocco -upward that corresponded with my fever. For at the end of about three -weeks I fell ill of an indefinable sort of fever, and in spite of sleep -and the quinine tabloids that very fortunately I had brought in my pocket, -I remained ill and fretting miserably, almost to the time when I was taken -into the presence of the Grand Lunar, who is Master of the Moon. - -"I will not dilate on the wretchedness of my condition," he remarks, -"during those days of ill-health." And he goes on with great amplitude with -details I omit here. "My temperature," he concludes, "kept abnormally high -for a long time, and I lost all desire for food. I had stagnant waking -intervals, and sleep tormented by dreams, and at one phase I was, I -remember, so weak as to be earth-sick and almost hysterical. I longed -almost intolerably for colour to break the everlasting blue..." - -He reverts again presently to the topic of this sponge-caught lunar -atmosphere. I am told by astronomers and physicists that all he tells is -in absolute accordance with what was already known of the moon's -condition. Had earthly astronomers had the courage and imagination to -push home a bold induction, says Mr. Wendigee, they might have foretold -almost everything that Cavor has to say of the general structure of the -moon. They know now pretty certainly that moon and earth are not so much -satellite and primary as smaller and greater sisters, made out of one -mass, and consequently made of the same material. And since the density of -the moon is only three-fifths that of the earth, there can be nothing for -it but that she is hollowed out by a great system of caverns. There was no -necessity, said Sir Jabez Flap, F.R.S., that most entertaining exponent of -the facetious side of the stars, that we should ever have gone to the moon -to find out such easy inferences, and points the pun with an allusion to -Gruyere, but he certainly might have announced his knowledge of the -hollowness of the moon before. And if the moon is hollow, then the -apparent absence of air and water is, of course, quite easily explained. -The sea lies within at the bottom of the caverns, and the air travels -through the great sponge of galleries, in accordance with simple physical -laws. The caverns of the moon, on the whole, are very windy places. As the -sunlight comes round the moon the air in the outer galleries on that side -is heated, its pressure increases, some flows out on the exterior and -mingles with the evaporating air of the craters (where the plants remove -its carbonic acid), while the greater portion flows round through the -galleries to replace the shrinking air of the cooling side that the -sunlight has left. There is, therefore, a constant eastward breeze in the -air of the outer galleries, and an upflow during the lunar day up the -shafts, complicated, of course, very greatly by the varying shape of the -galleries, and the ingenious contrivances of the Selenite mind.... - - - - - -Chapter 24 - - - - -The Natural History of the Selenites - -The messages of Cavor from the sixth up to the sixteenth are for the most -part so much broken, and they abound so in repetitions, that they scarcely -form a consecutive narrative. They will be given in full, of course, in -the scientific report, but here it will be far more convenient to continue -simply to abstract and quote as in the former chapter. We have subjected -every word to a keen critical scrutiny, and my own brief memories and -impressions of lunar things have been of inestimable help in interpreting -what would otherwise have been impenetrably dark. And, naturally, as -living beings, our interest centres far more upon the strange community of -lunar insects in which he was living, it would seem, as an honoured guest -than upon the mere physical condition of their world. - -I have already made it clear, I think, that the Selenites I saw resembled -man in maintaining the erect attitude, and in having four limbs, and I -have compared the general appearance of their heads and the jointing of -their limbs to that of insects. I have mentioned, too, the peculiar -consequence of the smaller gravitation of the moon on their fragile -slightness. Cavor confirms me upon all these points. He calls them -"animals," though of course they fall under no division of the -classification of earthly creatures, and he points out "the insect type of -anatomy had, fortunately for men, never exceeded a relatively very small -size on earth." The largest terrestrial insects, living or extinct, do -not, as a matter of fact, measure six inches in length; "but here, against -the lesser gravitation of the moon, a creature certainly as much an insect -as vertebrate seems to have been able to attain to human and ultra-human -dimensions." - -He does not mention the ant, but throughout his allusions the ant is -continually being brought before my mind, in its sleepless activity, in -its intelligence and social organisation, in its structure, and more -particularly in the fact that it displays, in addition to the two forms, -the male and the female form, that almost all other animals possess, a -number of other sexless creatures, workers, soldiers, and the like, -differing from one another in structure, character, power, and use, and -yet all members of the same species. For these Selenites, also, have a -great variety of forms. Of course, they are not only colossally greater in -size than ants, but also, in Cavor's opinion at least, in intelligence, -morality, and social wisdom are they colossally greater than men. And -instead of the four or five different forms of ant that are found, there -are almost innumerably different forms of Selenite. I had endeavoured to -indicate the very considerable difference observable in such Selenites of -the outer crust as I happened to encounter; the differences in size and -proportions were certainly as wide as the differences between the most -widely separated races of men. But such differences as I saw fade -absolutely to nothing in comparison with the huge distinctions of which -Cavor tells. It would seem the exterior Selenites I saw were, indeed, -mostly engaged in kindred occupations--mooncalf herds, butchers, -fleshers, and the like. But within the moon, practically unsuspected by -me, there are, it seems, a number of other sorts of Selenite, differing in -size, differing in the relative size of part to part, differing in power -and appearance, and yet not different species of creatures, but only -different forms of one species, and retaining through all their variations -a certain common likeness that marks their specific unity. The moon is, -indeed, a sort of vast ant-hill, only, instead of there being only four or -five sorts of ant, there are many hundred different sorts of Selenite, and -almost every gradation between one sort and another. - -It would seem the discovery came upon Cavor very speedily. I infer rather -than learn from his narrative that he was captured by the mooncalf herds -under the direction of these other Selenites who "have larger brain cases -(heads?) and very much shorter legs." Finding he would not walk even under -the goad, they carried him into darkness, crossed a narrow, plank-like -bridge that may have been the identical bridge I had refused, and put him -down in something that must have seemed at first to be some sort of lift. -This was the balloon--it had certainly been absolutely invisible to us in -the darkness--and what had seemed to me a mere plank-walking into the -void was really, no doubt, the passage of the gangway. In this he -descended towards constantly more luminous caverns of the moon. At first -they descended in silence--save for the twitterings of the Selenites--and -then into a stir of windy movement. In a little while the profound -blackness had made his eyes so sensitive that he began to see more and -more of the things about him, and at last the vague took shape. - -"Conceive an enormous cylindrical space," says Cavor, in his seventh -message, "a quarter of a mile across, perhaps; very dimly lit at first -and then brighter, with big platforms twisting down its sides in a spiral -that vanishes at last below in a blue profundity; and lit even more -brightly--one could not tell how or why. Think of the well of the very -largest spiral staircase or lift-shaft that you have ever looked down, and -magnify that by a hundred. Imagine it at twilight seen through blue glass. -Imagine yourself looking down that; only imagine also that you feel -extraordinarily light, and have got rid of any giddy feeling you might -have on earth, and you will have the first conditions of my impression. -Round this enormous shaft imagine a broad gallery running in a much -steeper spiral than would be credible on earth, and forming a steep road -protected from the gulf only by a little parapet that vanishes at last in -perspective a couple of miles below. - -"Looking up, I saw the very fellow of the downward vision; it had, of -course, the effect of looking into a very steep cone. A wind was blowing -down the shaft, and far above I fancy I heard, growing fainter and -fainter, the bellowing of the mooncalves that were being driven down again -from their evening pasturage on the exterior. And up and down the spiral -galleries were scattered numerous moon people, pallid, faintly luminous -beings, regarding our appearance or busied on unknown errands. - -"Either I fancied it or a flake of snow came drifting down on the icy -breeze. And then, falling like a snowflake, a little figure, a little -man-insect, clinging to a parachute, drove down very swiftly towards the -central places of the moon. - -"The big-headed Selenite sitting beside me, seeing me move my head with -the gesture of one who saw, pointed with his trunk-like 'hand' and -indicated a sort of jetty coming into sight very far below: a little -landing-stage, as it were, hanging into the void. As it swept up towards -us our pace diminished very rapidly, and in a few moments, as it seemed, -we were abreast of it, and at rest. A mooring-rope was flung and grasped, -and I found myself pulled down to a level with a great crowd of Selenites, -who jostled to see me. - -"It was an incredible crowd. Suddenly and violently there was forced upon -my attention the vast amount of difference there is amongst these beings -of the moon. - -"Indeed, there seemed not two alike in all that jostling multitude. They -differed in shape, they differed in size, they rang all the horrible -changes on the theme of Selenite form! Some bulged and overhung, some ran -about among the feet of their fellows. All of them had a grotesque and -disquieting suggestion of an insect that has somehow contrived to mock -humanity; but all seemed to present an incredible exaggeration of some -particular feature: one had a vast right fore-limb, an enormous antennal -arm, as it were; one seemed all leg, poised, as it were, on stilts; -another protruded the edge of his face mask into a nose-like organ that -made him startlingly human until one saw his expressionless gaping mouth. -The strange and (except for the want of mandibles and palps) most -insect-like head of the mooncalf-minders underwent, indeed, the most -incredible transformations: here it was broad and low, here high and -narrow; here its leathery brow was drawn out into horns and strange -features; here it was whiskered and divided, and there with a grotesquely -human profile. One distortion was particularly conspicuous. There were -several brain cases distended like bladders to a huge size, with the face -mask reduced to quite small proportions. There were several amazing forms, -with heads reduced to microscopic proportions and blobby bodies; and -fantastic, flimsy things that existed, it would seem, only as a basis for -vast, trumpet-like protrusions of the lower part of the mask. And oddest -of all, as it seemed to me for the moment, two or three of these weird -inhabitants of a subterranean world, a world sheltered by innumerable -miles of rock from sun or rain, _carried umbrellas_ in their tentaculate -hands--real terrestrial looking umbrellas! And then I thought of the -parachutist I had watched descend. - -"These moon people behaved exactly as a human crowd might have done in -similar circumstances: they jostled and thrust one another, they shoved -one another aside, they even clambered upon one another to get a glimpse -of me. Every moment they increased in numbers, and pressed more urgently -upon the discs of my ushers"--Cavor does not explain what he means by -this--"every moment fresh shapes emerged from the shadows and forced -themselves upon my astounded attention. And presently I was signed and -helped into a sort of litter, and lifted up on the shoulders of -strong-armed bearers, and so borne through the twilight over this seething -multitude towards the apartments that were provided for me in the moon. -All about me were eyes, faces, masks, a leathery noise like the rustling -of beetle wings, and a great bleating and cricket-like twittering of -Selenite voices." - -We gather he was taken to a "hexagonal apartment," and there for a space -he was confined. Afterwards he was given a much more considerable liberty; -indeed, almost as much freedom as one has in a civilised town on earth. -And it would appear that the mysterious being who is the ruler and master -of the moon appointed two Selenites "with large heads" to guard and study -him, and to establish whatever mental communications were possible with -him. And, amazing and incredible as it may seem, these two creatures, -these fantastic men insects, these beings of other world, were presently -communicating with Cavor by means of terrestrial speech. - -Cavor speaks of them as Phi-oo and Tsi-puff. Phi-oo, he says, was about 5 -feet high; he had small slender legs about 18 inches long, and slight feet -of the common lunar pattern. On these balanced a little body, throbbing -with the pulsations of his heart. He had long, soft, many-jointed arms -ending in a tentacled grip, and his neck was many-jointed in the usual -way, but exceptionally short and thick. His head, says Cavor--apparently -alluding to some previous description that has gone astray in space--"is -of the common lunar type, but strangely modified. The mouth has the usual -expressionless gape, but it is unusually small and pointing downward, and -the mask is reduced to the size of a large flat nose-flap. On either side -are the little eyes. - -"The rest of the head is distended into a huge globe and the chitinous -leathery cuticle of the mooncalf herds thins out to a mere membrane, -through which the pulsating brain movements are distinctly visible. He -is a creature, indeed, with a tremendously hypertrophied brain, and with -the rest of his organism both relatively and absolutely dwarfed." - -In another passage Cavor compares the back view of him to Atlas supporting -the world. Tsi-puff it seems was a very similar insect, but his "face" was -drawn out to a considerable length, and the brain hypertrophy being in -different regions, his head was not round but pear-shaped, with the stalk -downward. There were also litter-carriers, lopsided beings, with enormous -shoulders, very spidery ushers, and a squat foot attendant in Cavor's -retinue. - -The manner in which Phi-oo and Tsi-puff attacked the problem of speech was -fairly obvious. They came into this "hexagonal cell" in which Cavor was -confined, and began imitating every sound he made, beginning with a cough. -He seems to have grasped their intention with great quickness, and to have -begun repeating words to them and pointing to indicate the application. -The procedure was probably always the same. Phi-oo would attend to Cavor -for a space, then point also and say the word he had heard. - -The first word he mastered was "man," and the second "Mooney"--which -Cavor on the spur of the moment seems to have used instead of "Selenite" -for the moon race. As soon as Phi-oo was assured of the meaning of a word -he repeated it to Tsi-puff, who remembered it infallibly. They mastered -over one hundred English nouns at their first session. - -Subsequently it seems they brought an artist with them to assist the work -of explanation with sketches and diagrams--Cavor's drawings being rather -crude. "He was," says Cavor, "a being with an active arm and an arresting -eye," and he seemed to draw with incredible swiftness. - -The eleventh message is undoubtedly only a fragment of a longer -communication. After some broken sentences, the record of which is -unintelligible, it goes on:-- - -"But it will interest only linguists, and delay me too long, to give the -details of the series of intent parleys of which these were the beginning, -and, indeed, I very much doubt if I could give in anything like the proper -order all the twistings and turnings that we made in our pursuit of mutual -comprehension. Verbs were soon plain sailing--at least, such active verbs -as I could express by drawings; some adjectives were easy, but when it -came to abstract nouns, to prepositions, and the sort of hackneyed figures -of speech, by means of which so much is expressed on earth, it was like -diving in cork-jackets. Indeed, these difficulties were insurmountable -until to the sixth lesson came a fourth assistant, a being with a huge -football-shaped head, whose forte was clearly the pursuit of intricate -analogy. He entered in a preoccupied manner, stumbling against a stool, -and the difficulties that arose had to be presented to him with a certain -amount of clamour and hitting and pricking before they reached his -apprehension. But once he was involved his penetration was amazing. -Whenever there came a need of thinking beyond Phi-oo's by no means limited -scope, this prolate-headed person was in request, but he invariably told -the conclusion to Tsi-puff, in order that it might be remembered; Tsi-puff -was ever the arsenal for facts. And so we advanced again. - -"It seemed long and yet brief--a matter of days--before I was positively -talking with these insects of the moon. Of course, at first it was an -intercourse infinitely tedious and exasperating, but imperceptibly it has -grown to comprehension. And my patience has grown to meet its limitations, -Phi-oo it is who does all the talking. He does it with a vast amount of -meditative provisional 'M'm--M'm' and has caught up one or two phrases, -'If I may say,' 'If you understand,' and beads all his speech with them. - -"Thus he would discourse. Imagine him explaining his artist. - -"'M'm--M'm--he--if I may say--draw. Eat little--drink little--draw. -Love draw. No other thing. Hate all who not draw like him. Angry. Hate all -who draw like him better. Hate most people. Hate all who not think all -world for to draw. Angry. M'm. All things mean nothing to him--only draw. -He like you ... if you understand.... New thing to draw. Ugly--striking. -Eh? - -"'He'--turning to Tsi-puff--'love remember words. Remember wonderful -more than any. Think no, draw no--remember. Say'--here he referred to -his gifted assistant for a word--'histories--all things. He hear -once--say ever.' - -"It is more wonderful to me than I dreamt that anything ever could be -again, to hear, in this perpetual obscurity, these extraordinary -creatures--for even familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect of -their appearance--continually piping a nearer approach to coherent earthly -speech--asking questions, giving answers. I feel that I am casting back -to the fable-hearing period of childhood again, when the ant and the -grasshopper talked together and the bee judged between them..." - -And while these linguistic exercises were going on Cavor seems to have -experienced a considerable relaxation of his confinement. "The first dread -and distrust our unfortunate conflict aroused is being," he said, -"continually effaced by the deliberate rationality of all I do.... I am -now able to come and go as I please, or I am restricted only for my own -good. So it is I have been able to get at this apparatus, and, assisted -by a happy find among the material that is littered in this enormous -store-cave, I have contrived to despatch these messages. So far not the -slightest attempt has been made to interfere with me in this, though I -have made it quite clear to Phi-oo that I am signalling to the earth. - -"'You talk to other?' he asked, watching me. - -"'Others,' said I. - -"'Others,' he said. 'Oh yes, Men?' - -"And I went on transmitting." - -Cavor was continually making corrections in his previous accounts of the -Selenites as fresh facts flowed upon him to modify his conclusions, and -accordingly one gives the quotations that follow with a certain amount of -reservation. They are quoted from the ninth, thirteenth, and sixteenth -messages, and, altogether vague and fragmentary as they are, they probably -give as complete a picture of the social life of this strange community as -mankind can now hope to have for many generations. - -"In the moon," says Cavor, "every citizen knows his place. He is born to -that place, and the elaborate discipline of training and education and -surgery he undergoes fits him at last so completely to it that he has -neither ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it. 'Why should he?' -Phi-oo would ask. If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a -mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. They -check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage his -mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill. His brain grows, or -at least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and the rest of him -only so much as is necessary to sustain this essential part of him. At -last, save for rest and food, his one delight lies in the exercise and -display of his faculty, his one interest in its application, his sole -society with other specialists in his own line. His brain grows -continually larger, at least so far as the portions engaging in -mathematics are concerned; they bulge ever larger and seem to suck all -life and vigour from the rest of his frame. His limbs shrivel, his heart -and digestive organs diminish, his insect face is hidden under its bulging -contours. His voice becomes a mere stridulation for the stating of -formula; he seems deaf to all but properly enunciated problems. The -faculty of laughter, save for the sudden discovery of some paradox, is -lost to him; his deepest emotion is the evolution of a novel computation. -And so he attains his end. - -"Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a minder of mooncalves is from his -earliest years induced to think and live mooncalf, to find his pleasure in -mooncalf lore, his exercise in their tending and pursuit. He is trained to -become wiry and active, his eye is indurated to the tight wrappings, the -angular contours that constitute a 'smart mooncalfishness.' He takes at -last no interest in the deeper part of the moon; he regards all Selenites -not equally versed in mooncalves with indifference, derision, or -hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf pastures, and his dialect an -accomplished mooncalf technique. So also he loves his work, and discharges -in perfect happiness the duty that justifies his being. And so it is with -all sorts and conditions of Selenites--each is a perfect unit in a world -machine.... - -"These beings with big heads, on whom the intellectual labours fall, form -a sort of aristocracy in this strange society, and at the head of them, -quintessential of the moon, is that marvellous gigantic ganglion the Grand -Lunar, into whose presence I am finally to come. The unlimited development -of the minds of the intellectual class is rendered possible by the absence -of any bony skull in the lunar anatomy, that strange box of bone that -clamps about the developing brain of man, imperiously insisting 'thus far -and no farther' to all his possibilities. They fall into three main -classes differing greatly in influence and respect. There are -administrators, of whom Phi-oo is one, Selenites of considerable -initiative and versatility, responsible each for a certain cubic content -of the moon's bulk; the experts like the football-headed thinker, who are -trained to perform certain special operations; and the erudite, who are -the repositories of all knowledge. To the latter class belongs Tsi-puff, -the first lunar professor of terrestrial languages. With regard to these -latter, it is a curious little thing to note that the unlimited growth of -the lunar brain has rendered unnecessary the invention of all those -mechanical aids to brain work which have distinguished the career of man. -There are no books, no records of any sort, no libraries or inscriptions. -All knowledge is stored in distended brains much as the honey-ants of -Texas store honey in their distended abdomens. The lunar Somerset House -and the lunar British Museum Library are collections of living brains... - -"The less specialised administrators, I note, do for the most part take a -very lively interest in me whenever they encounter me. They will come out -of the way and stare at me and ask questions to which Phi-oo will reply. I -see them going hither and thither with a retinue of bearers, attendants, -shouters, parachute-carriers, and so forth--queer groups to see. The -experts for the most part ignore me completely, even as they ignore each -other, or notice me only to begin a clamorous exhibition of their -distinctive skill. The erudite for the most part are rapt in an impervious -and apoplectic complacency, from which only a denial of their erudition -can rouse them. Usually they are led about by little watchers and -attendants, and often there are small and active-looking creatures, small -females usually, that I am inclined to think are a sort of wife to them; -but some of the profounder scholars are altogether too great for -locomotion, and are carried from place to place in a sort of sedan tub, -wabbling jellies of knowledge that enlist my respectful astonishment. I -have just passed one in coming to this place where I am permitted to amuse -myself with these electrical toys, a vast, shaven, shaky head, bald and -thin-skinned, carried on his grotesque stretcher. In front and behind came -his bearers, and curious, almost trumpet-faced, news disseminators -shrieked his fame. - -"I have already mentioned the retinues that accompany most of the -intellectuals: ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles and muscles, -as it were, to replace the abortive physical powers of these hypertrophied -minds. Porters almost invariably accompany them. There are also extremely -swift messengers with spider-like legs and 'hands' for grasping -parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs that could well nigh wake the -dead. Apart from their controlling intelligence these subordinates are as -inert and helpless as umbrellas in a stand. They exist only in relation to -the orders they have to obey, the duties they have to perform. - -"The bulk of these insects, however, who go to and fro upon the spiral -ways, who fill the ascending balloons and drop past me clinging to flimsy -parachutes are, I gather, of the operative class. 'Machine hands,' indeed, -some of these are in actual nature--it is not figure of speech, the -single tentacle of the mooncalf herd is profoundly modified for clawing, -lifting, guiding, the rest of them no more than necessary subordinate -appendages to these important mechanisms, have enormously developed -auditory organs; some whose work lies in delicate chemical operations -project a vast olfactory organ; others again have flat feet for -treadles with anchylosed joints; and others--who I have been told are -glassblowers--seem mere lung-bellows. But every one of these common -Selenites I have seen at work is exquisitely adapted to the social need -it meets. Fine work is done by fined-down workers, amazingly dwarfed -and neat. Some I could hold on the palm of my hand. There is even a -sort of turnspit Selenite, very common, whose duty and only delight it -is to apply the motive power for various small appliances. And to rule -over these things and order any erring tendency there might be in some -aberrant natures are the most muscular beings I have seen in the moon, -a sort of lunar police, who must have been trained from their earliest -years to give a perfect respect and obedience to the swollen heads. - -"The making of these various sorts of operative must be a very curious and -interesting process. I am very much in the dark about it, but quite -recently I came upon a number of young Selenites confined in jars from -which only the fore-limbs protruded, who were being compressed to become -machine-minders of a special sort. The extended 'hand' in this highly -developed system of technical education is stimulated by irritants and -nourished by injection, while the rest of the body is starved. Phi-oo, -unless I misunderstood him, explained that in the earlier stages these -queer little creatures are apt to display signs of suffering in their -various cramped situations, but they easily become indurated to their lot; -and he took me on to where a number of flexible-minded messengers were -being drawn out and broken in. It is quite unreasonable, I know, but such -glimpses of the educational methods of these beings affect me -disagreeably. I hope, however, that may pass off, and I may be able to -see more of this aspect of their wonderful social order. That -wretched-looking hand-tentacle sticking out of its jar seemed to have a -sort of limp appeal for lost possibilities; it haunts me still, although, -of course it is really in the end a far more humane proceeding than our -earthly method of leaving children to grow into human beings, and then -making machines of them. - -"Quite recently, too--I think it was on the eleventh or twelfth visit I -made to this apparatus--I had a curious light upon the lives of these -operatives. I was being guided through a short cut hither, instead of -going down the spiral, and by the quays to the Central Sea. From the -devious windings of a long, dark gallery, we emerged into a vast, low -cavern, pervaded by an earthy smell, and as things go in this darkness, -rather brightly lit. The light came from a tumultuous growth of livid -fungoid shapes--some indeed singularly like our terrestrial mushrooms, -but standing as high or higher than a man. - -"'Mooneys eat these?' said I to Phi-oo. - -"'Yes, food.' - -"'Goodness me!' I cried; 'what's that?' - -"My eye had just caught the figure of an exceptionally big and ungainly -Selenite lying motionless among the stems, face downward. We stopped. - -"'Dead?' I asked. (For as yet I have seen no dead in the moon, and I have -grown curious.) - -"'No!' exclaimed Phi-oo. 'Him--worker--no work to do. Get little drink -then--make sleep--till we him want. What good him wake, eh? No want him -walking about.' - -"'There's another!' cried I. - -"And indeed all that huge extent of mushroom ground was, I found, peppered -with these prostrate figures sleeping under an opiate until the moon had -need of them. There were scores of them of all sorts, and we were able to -turn over some of them, and examine them more precisely than I had been -able to previously. They breathed noisily at my doing so, but did not -wake. One, I remember very distinctly: he left a strong impression, I -think, because some trick the light and of his attitude was strongly -suggestive a drawn-up human figure. His fore-limbs were long, delicate -tentacles--he was some kind of refined manipulator--and the pose of his -slumber suggested a submissive suffering. No doubt it was a mistake for -me to interpret his expression in that way, but I did. And as Phi-oo -rolled him over into the darkness among the livid fleshiness again I felt -a distinctly unpleasant sensation, although as he rolled the insect in -him was confessed. - -"It simply illustrates the unthinking way in which one acquires habits of -feeling. To drug the worker one does not want and toss him aside is surely -far better than to expel him from his factory to wander starving in the -streets. In every complicated social community there is necessarily a -certain intermittency of employment for all specialised labour, and in -this way the trouble of an 'unemployed' problem is altogether anticipated. -And yet, so unreasonable are even scientifically trained minds, I still do -not like the memory of those prostrate forms amidst those quiet, luminous -arcades of fleshy growth, and I avoid that short cut in spite of the -inconveniences of the longer, more noisy, and more crowded alternative. - -"My alternative route takes me round by a huge, shadowy cavern, very -crowded and clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of the hexagonal -openings of a sort of honeycomb wall, or parading a large open space -behind, or selecting the toys and amulets made to please them by the -dainty-tentacled jewellers who work in kennels below, the mothers of the -moon world--the queen bees, as it were, of the hive. They are -noble-looking beings, fantastically and sometimes quite beautifully -adorned, with a proud carriage, and, save for their mouths, almost -microscopic heads. - -"Of the condition of the moon sexes, marrying and giving in marriage, and -of birth and so forth among the Selenites, I have as yet been able to -learn very little. With the steady progress of Phi-oo in English, however, -my ignorance will no doubt as steadily disappear. I am of opinion that, as -with the ants and bees, there is a large majority of the members in this -community of the neuter sex. Of course on earth in our cities there are -now many who never live that life of parentage which is the natural life -of man. Here, as with the ants, this thing has become a normal condition -of the race, and the whole of such replacement as is necessary falls upon -this special and by no means numerous class of matrons, the mothers of the -moon-world, large and stately beings beautifully fitted to bear the larval -Selenite. Unless I misunderstand an explanation of Phi-oo's, they are -absolutely incapable of cherishing the young they bring into the moon; -periods of foolish indulgence alternate with moods of aggressive violence, -and as soon as possible the little creatures, who are quite soft and -flabby and pale coloured, are transferred to the charge of celibate -females, women 'workers' as it were, who in some cases possess brains of -almost masculine dimensions." - -Just at this point, unhappily, this message broke off. Fragmentary and -tantalising as the matter constituting this chapter is, it does -nevertheless give a vague, broad impression of an altogether strange and -wonderful world--a world with which our own may have to reckon we know -not how speedily. This intermittent trickle of messages, this whispering -of a record needle in the stillness of the mountain slopes, is the first -warning of such a change in human conditions as mankind has scarcely -imagined heretofore. In that satellite of ours there are new elements, new -appliances, traditions, an overwhelming avalanche of new ideas, a strange -race with whom we must inevitably struggle for mastery--gold as common as -iron or wood... - - - - - -Chapter 25 - - - - -The Grand Lunar - -The penultimate message describes, with occasionally elaborate detail, the -encounter between Cavor and the Grand Lunar, who is the ruler or master of -the moon. Cavor seems to have sent most of it without interference, but to -have been interrupted in the concluding portion. The second came after an -interval of a week. - -The first message begins: "At last I am able to resume this--" it then -becomes illegible for a space, and after a time resumed in mid-sentence. - -The missing words of the following sentence are probably "the crowd." -There follows quite clearly: "grew ever denser as we drew near the palace -of the Grand Lunar--if I may call a series of excavations a palace. -Everywhere faces stared at me--blank, chitinous gapes and masks, eyes -peering over tremendous olfactory developments, eyes beneath monstrous -forehead plates; and undergrowth of smaller creatures dodged and yelped, -and helmet faces poised on sinuous, long-jointed necks appeared craning -over shoulders and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome space about me -marched a cordon of stolid, scuttle-headed guards, who had joined us on -our leaving the boat in which we had come along the channels of the -Central Sea. The quick-eyed artist with the little brain joined us also, -and a thick bunch of lean porter-insects swayed and struggled under the -multitude of conveniences that were considered essential to my state. I -was carried in a litter during the final stage of our journey. This litter -was made of some very ductile metal that looked dark to me, meshed and -woven, and with bars of paler metal, and about me as I advanced there -grouped itself a long and complicated procession. - -"In front, after the manner of heralds, marched four trumpet-faced -creatures making a devastating bray; and then came squat, resolute-moving -ushers before and behind, and on either hand a galaxy of learned heads, a -sort of animated encyclopedia, who were, Phi-oo explained, to stand about -the Grand Lunar for purposes of reference. (Not a thing in lunar science, -not a point of view or method of thinking, that these wonderful beings did -not carry in their heads!) Followed guards and porters, and then Phi-oo's -shivering brain borne also on a litter. Then came Tsi-puff in a slightly -less important litter; then myself on a litter of greater elegance than -any other, and surrounded by my food and drink attendants. More trumpeters -came next, splitting the ear with vehement outcries, and then several -big brains, special correspondents one might well call them, or -historiographers, charged with the task of observing and remembering every -detail of this epoch-making interview. A company of attendants, bearing -and dragging banners and masses of scented fungus and curious symbols, -vanished in the darkness behind. The way was lined by ushers and officers -in caparisons that gleamed like steel, and beyond their line, so far as my -eyes could pierce the gloom, the heads of that enormous crowd extended. - -"I will own that I am still by no means indurated to the peculiar effect -of the Selenite appearance, and to find myself, as it were, adrift on this -broad sea of excited entomology was by no means agreeable. Just for a -space I had something very like what I should imagine people mean when -they speak of the 'horrors.' It had come to me before in these lunar -caverns, when on occasion I have found myself weaponless and with an -undefended back, amidst a crowd of these Selenites, but never quite so -vividly. It is, of course, as absolutely irrational a feeling as one could -well have, and I hope gradually to subdue it. But just for a moment, as I -swept forward into the welter of the vast crowd, it was only by gripping -my litter tightly and summoning all my will-power that I succeeded in -avoiding an outcry or some such manifestation. It lasted perhaps three -minutes; then I had myself in hand again. - -"We ascended the spiral of a vertical way for some time, and then passed -through a series of huge halls dome-roofed and elaborately decorated. The -approach to the Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to give one a vivid -impression of his greatness. Each cavern one entered seemed greater and -more boldly arched than its predecessor. This effect of progressive size -was enhanced by a thin haze of faintly phosphorescent blue incense that -thickened as one advanced, and robbed even the nearer figures of -clearness. I seemed to advance continually to something larger, dimmer, -and less material. - -"I must confess that all this multitude made me feel extremely shabby and -unworthy. I was unshaven and unkempt; I had brought no razor; I had a -coarse beard over my mouth. On earth I have always been inclined to -despise any attention to my person beyond a proper care for cleanliness; -but under the exceptional circumstances in which I found myself, -representing, as I did, my planet and my kind, and depending very largely -upon the attractiveness of my appearance for a proper reception, I could -have given much for something a little more artistic and dignified than -the husks I wore. I had been so serene in the belief that the moon was -uninhabited as to overlook such precautions altogether. As it was I was -dressed in a flannel jacket, knickerbockers, and golfing stockings, -stained with every sort of dirt the moon offered, slippers (of which the -left heel was wanting), and a blanket, through a hole in which I thrust my -head. (These clothes, indeed, I still wear.) Sharp bristles are anything -but an improvement to my cast of features, and there was an unmended tear -at the knee of my knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as I squatted -in my litter; my right stocking, too, persisted in getting about my ankle. -I am fully alive to the injustice my appearance did humanity, and if by -any expedient I could have improvised something a little out of the way -and imposing I would have done so. But I could hit upon nothing. I did -what I could with my blanket--folding it somewhat after the fashion of a -toga, and for the rest I sat as upright as the swaying of my litter -permitted. - -"Imagine the largest hall you have ever been in, imperfectly lit with blue -light and obscured by a gray-blue fog, surging with metallic or livid-gray -creatures of such a mad diversity as I have hinted. Imagine this hall to -end in an open archway beyond which is a still larger hall, and beyond -this yet another and still larger one, and so on. At the end of the vista, -dimly seen, a flight of steps, like the steps of Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend -out of sight. Higher and higher these steps appear to go as one draws -nearer their base. But at last I came under a huge archway and beheld the -summit of these steps, and upon it the Grand Lunar exalted on his throne. - -"He was seated in what was relatively a blaze of incandescent blue. This, -and the darkness about him gave him an effect of floating in a blue-black -void. He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud at first, brooding on his -sombre throne; his brain case must have measured many yards in diameter. -For some reason that I cannot fathom a number of blue search-lights -radiated from behind the throne on which he sat, and immediately -encircling him was a halo. About him, and little and indistinct in this -glow, a number of body-servants sustained and supported him, and -overshadowed and standing in a huge semicircle beneath him were his -intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers and computators and searchers -and servants, and all the distinguished insects of the court of the moon. -Still lower stood ushers and messengers, and then all down the countless -steps of the throne were guards, and at the base, enormous, various, -indistinct, vanishing at last into an absolute black, a vast swaying -multitude of the minor dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a -perpetual scraping whisper on the rocky floor, as their limbs moved with a -rustling murmur. - -"As I entered the penultimate hall the music rose and expanded into an -imperial magnificence of sound, and the shrieks of the news-bearers died -away.... - -"I entered the last and greatest hall.... - -"My procession opened out like a fan. My ushers and guards went right and -left, and the three litters bearing myself and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff marched -across a shiny darkness of floor to the foot of the giant stairs. Then -began a vast throbbing hum, that mingled with the music. The two Selenites -dismounted, but I was bidden remain seated--I imagine as a special -honour. The music ceased, but not that humming, and by a simultaneous -movement of ten thousand respectful heads my attention was directed to the -enhaloed supreme intelligence that hovered above me. - -"At first as I peered into the radiating glow this quintessential brain -looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim, undulating -ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within. Then beneath its enormity -and just above the edge of the throne one saw with a start minute elfin -eyes peering out of the glow. No face, but eyes, as if they peered through -holes. At first I could see no more than these two staring little eyes, -and then below I distinguished the little dwarfed body and its -insect-jointed limbs shrivelled and white. The eyes stared down at me with -a strange intensity, and the lower part of the swollen globe was wrinkled. -Ineffectual-looking little hand-tentacles steadied this shape on the -throne.... - -"It was great. It was pitiful. One forgot the hall and the crowd. - -"I ascended the staircase by jerks. It seemed to me that this darkly -glowing brain case above us spread over me, and took more and more of the -whole effect into itself as I drew nearer. The tiers of attendants and -helpers grouped about their master seemed to dwindle and fade into the -night. I saw that shadowy attendants were busy spraying that great brain -with a cooling spray, and patting and sustaining it. For my own part, I -sat gripping my swaying litter and staring at the Grand Lunar, unable to -turn my gaze aside. And at last, as I reached a little landing that was -separated only by ten steps or so from the supreme seat, the woven -splendour of the music reached a climax and ceased, and I was left naked, -as it were, in that vastness, beneath the still scrutiny of the Grand -Lunar's eyes. - -"He was scrutinising the first man he had ever seen.... - -"My eyes dropped at last from his greatness to the ant figures in the blue -mist about him, and then down the steps to the massed Selenites, still and -expectant in their thousands, packed on the floor below. Once again an -unreasonable horror reached out towards me.... And passed. - -"After the pause came the salutation. I was assisted from my litter, and -stood awkwardly while a number of curious and no doubt deeply symbolical -gestures were vicariously performed for me by two slender officials. The -encyclopaedic galaxy of the learned that had accompanied me to the -entrance of the last hall appeared two steps above me and left and right -of me, in readiness for the Grand Lunar's need, and Phi-oo's pale brain -placed itself about half-way up to the throne in such a position as to -communicate easily between us without turning his back on either the Grand -Lunar or myself. Tsi-puff took up position behind him. Dexterous ushers -sidled sideways towards me, keeping a full face to the Presence. I seated -myself Turkish fashion, and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff also knelt down above me. -There came a pause. The eyes of the nearer court went from me to the Grand -Lunar and came back to me, and a hissing and piping of expectation passed -across the hidden multitudes below and ceased. - -"That humming ceased. - -"For the first and last time in my experience the moon was silent. - -"I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. The Grand Lunar was addressing -me. It was like the rubbing of a finger upon a pane of glass. - -"I watched him attentively for a time, and then glanced at the alert -Phi-oo. I felt amidst these slender beings ridiculously thick and fleshy -and solid; my head all jaw and black hair. My eyes went back to the Grand -Lunar. He had ceased; his attendants were busy, and his shining superfices -was glistening and running with cooling spray. - -"Phi-oo meditated through an interval. He consulted Tsi-puff. Then he -began piping his recognisable English--at first a little nervously, so -that he was not very clear. - -"'M'm--the Grand Lunar--wished to say--wishes to say--he gathers you -are--m'm--men--that you are a man from the planet earth. He wishes to -say that he welcomes you--welcomes you--and wishes to learn--learn, if -I may use the word--the state of your world, and the reason why you came -to this.' - -"He paused. I was about to reply when he resumed. He proceeded to remarks -of which the drift was not very clear, though I am inclined to think they -were intended to be complimentary. He told me that the earth was to the -moon what the sun is to the earth, and that the Selenites desired very -greatly to learn about the earth and men. He then told me no doubt in -compliment also, the relative magnitude and diameter of earth and moon, -and the perpetual wonder and speculation with which the Selenites had -regarded our planet. I meditated with downcast eyes, and decided to reply -that men too had wondered what might lie in the moon, and had judged it -dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had seen that day. The -Grand Lunar, in token of recognition, caused his long blue rays to rotate -in a very confusing manner, and all about the great hall ran the pipings -and whisperings and rustlings of the report of what I had said. He then -proceeded to put to Phi-oo a number of inquiries which were easier to -answer. - -"He understood, he explained, that we lived on the surface of the earth, -that our air and sea were outside the globe; the latter part, indeed, he -already knew from his astronomical specialists. He was very anxious to -have more detailed information of what he called this extraordinary state -of affairs, for from the solidity of the earth there had always been a -disposition regard it as uninhabitable. He endeavoured first to ascertain -the extremes of temperature to which we earth beings were exposed, and he -was deeply interested by my descriptive treatment of clouds and rain. His -imagination was assisted by the fact that the lunar atmosphere in the -outer galleries of the night side is not infrequently very foggy. He -seemed inclined to marvel that we did not find the sunlight too intense -for our eyes, and was interested in my attempt to explain that the sky was -tempered to a bluish colour through the refraction of the air, though I -doubt if he clearly understood that. I explained how the iris of the human -eyes can contract the pupil and save the delicate internal structure from -the excess of sunlight, and was allowed to approach within a few feet of -the Presence in order that this structure might be seen. This led to a -comparison of the lunar and terrestrial eyes. The former is not only -excessively sensitive to such light as men can see, but it can also _see_ -heat, and every difference in temperature within the moon renders objects -visible to it. - -"The iris was quite a new organ to the Grand Lunar. For a time he amused -himself by flashing his rays into my face and watching my pupils contract. -As a consequence, I was dazzled and blinded for some little time.... - -"But in spite of that discomfort I found something reassuring by -insensible degrees in the rationality of this business of question and -answer. I could shut my eyes, think of my answer, and almost forget that -the the Grand Lunar has no face.... - -"When I had descended again to my proper place the Grand Lunar asked how -we sheltered ourselves from heat and storms, and I expounded to him the -arts of building and furnishing. Here we wandered into misunderstandings -and cross-purposes, due largely, I must admit, to the looseness of my -expressions. For a long time I had great difficulty in making him -understand the nature of a house. To him and his attendant Selenites it -seemed, no doubt, the most whimsical thing in the world that men should -build houses when they might descend into excavations, and an additional -complication was introduced by the attempt I made to explain that men had -originally begun their homes in caves, and that they were now taking their -railways and many establishments beneath the surface. Here I think a -desire for intellectual completeness betrayed me. There was also a -considerable tangle due to an equally unwise attempt on my part to explain -about mines. Dismissing this topic at last in an incomplete state, the -Grand Lunar inquired what we did with the interior of our globe. - -"A tide of twittering and piping swept into the remotest corners of that -great assembly when it was at last made clear that we men know absolutely -nothing of the contents of the world upon which the immemorial generations -of our ancestors had been evolved. Three times had I to repeat that of all -the 4000 miles of distance between the earth and its centre men knew only -to the depth of a mile, and that very vaguely. I understood the Grand -Lunar to ask why had I come to the moon seeing we had scarcely touched our -own planet yet, but he did not trouble me at that time to proceed to an -explanation, being too anxious to pursue the details of this mad inversion -of all his ideas. - -"He reverted to the question of weather, and I tried to describe the -perpetually changing sky, and snow, and frost and hurricanes. 'But when -the night comes,' he asked, 'is it not cold?' - -"I told him it was colder than by day. - -"'And does not your atmosphere freeze?' - -"I told him not; that it was never cold enough for that, because our -nights were so short. - -"'Not even liquefy?' - -"I was about to say 'No,' but then it occurred to me that one part at -least of our atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does sometimes liquefy -and form dew, and sometimes freeze and form frost--a process perfectly -analogous to the freezing of all the external atmosphere of the moon -during its longer night. I made myself clear on this point, and from that -the Grand Lunar went on to speak with me of sleep. For the need of sleep -that comes so regularly every twenty-four hours to all things is part also -of our earthly inheritance. On the moon they rest only at rare intervals, -and after exceptional exertions. Then I tried to describe to him the soft -splendours of a summer night, and from that I passed to a description of -those animals that prowl by night and sleep by day. I told him of lions -and tigers, and here it seemed as though we had come to a deadlock. For, -save in their waters, there are no creatures in the moon not absolutely -domestic and subject to his will, and so it has been for immemorial years. -They have monstrous water creatures, but no evil beasts, and the idea of -anything strong and large existing 'outside' in the night is very -difficult for them...." - -[The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps -twenty words or more.] - -"He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange -superficiality and unreasonableness of (man) who lives on the mere surface -of a world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances of space, -who cannot even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon his kind, and -yet who dares to invade another planet. During this aside I sat thinking, -and then at his desire I told him of the different sorts of men. He -searched me with questions. 'And for all sorts of work you have the same -sort of men. But who thinks? Who governs?' - -"I gave him an outline of the democratic method. - -"When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then -requested me to repeat my explanation conceiving something had miscarried. - -"'Do they not do different things, then?' said Phi-oo. - -"Some, I admitted, were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some -were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. 'But _all_ rule,' I said. - -"'And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different -duties?' - -"'None that you can see,' I said, 'except perhaps, for clothes. Their -minds perhaps differ a little,' I reflected. - -"'Their minds must differ a great deal,' said the Grand Lunar, 'or they -would all want to do the same things.' - -"In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his preconceptions, I -said that his surmise was right. 'It was all hidden in the brain,' I said; -'but the difference was there. Perhaps if one could see the minds and -souls of men they would be as varied and unequal as the Selenites. There -were great men and small men, men who could reach out far and wide, men -who could go swiftly; noisy, trumpet-minded men, and men who could -remember without thinking....'" - -[The record is indistinct for three words.] - -"He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statements. 'But you said -all men rule?' he pressed. - -"'To a certain extent,' I said, and made, I fear, a denser fog with my -explanation. - -"He reached out to a salient fact. 'Do you mean,' asked, 'that there is -no Grand Earthly?' - -"I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I -explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth had -usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large and -influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged, the -Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At which the -Grand Lunar was even more amazed. - -"'But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?' he asked; and I -explained to him the way we helped our limited" - -[A word omitted here, probably "brains."] - -"with libraries of books. I explained to him how our science was -growing by the united labours of innumerable little men, and on -that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered much -in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the moon. -Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites grew -and changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and remained -brutes--equipped. He said this..." - -[Here there is a short piece of the record indistinct.] - -"He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours, and I -described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not -understand that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but -when he did he was clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing, -that the Selenites use years to count by, just as we do on earth, though I -can make nothing of their numeral system. That, however, does not matter, -because Phi-oo understands ours.) From that I went on to tell him that -mankind had dwelt in cities only for nine or ten thousand years, and that -we were still not united in one brotherhood, but under many different -forms of government. This astonished the Grand Lunar very much, when it -was made clear to him. At first he thought we referred merely to -administrative areas. - -"'Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what order will -some day be,' I said, and so I came to tell him...." - -[At this point a length of record that probably represents thirty or -forty words is totally illegible.] - -"The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging to -the inconvenience of diverse tongues. 'They want to communicate, and yet -not to communicate,' he said, and then for a long time he questioned me -closely concerning war. - -"He was at first perplexed and incredulous. 'You mean to say,' he asked, -seeking confirmation, 'that you run about over the surface of your -world--this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to scrape--killing -one another for beasts to eat?' - -"I told him that was perfectly correct. - -"He asked for particulars to assist his imagination. - -"'But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?' he asked, -and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress him -almost as much as the killing. 'Tell me more,' said the Grand Lunar; 'make -me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.' - -"And so, for a space, though something loath, I told him the story of -earthly War. - -"I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and -ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an idea -of manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of sieges and -assaults, of starvation and hardship in trenches, and of sentinels -freezing in the snow. I told him of routs and surprises, and desperate -last stands and faint hopes, and the pitiless pursuit of fugitives and the -dead upon the field. I told, too, of the past, of invasions and massacres, -of the Huns and Tartars, and the wars of Mahomet and the Caliphs, and of -the Crusades. And as I went on, and Phi-oo translated, and the Selenites -cooed and murmured in a steadily intensified emotion. - -"I told them an ironclad could fire a shot of a ton twelve miles, and go -through 20 feet of iron--and how we could steer torpedoes under water. I -went on to describe a Maxim gun in action, and what I could imagine of the -Battle of Colenso. The Grand Lunar was so incredulous that he interrupted -the translation of what I had said in order to have my verification of my -account. They particularly doubted my description of the men cheering and -rejoicing as they went into battle. - -"'But surely they do not like it!' translated Phi-oo. - -"I assured them men of my race considered battle the most glorious -experience of life, at which the whole assembly was stricken with -amazement. - -"'But what good is this war?' asked the Grand Lunar, sticking to his -theme. - -"'Oh! as for _good_!' said I; 'it thins the population!' - -"'But why should there be a need--?' - -"There came a pause, the cooling sprays impinged upon his brow, and then -he spoke again." - -[At this point a series of undulations that have been apparent as a -perplexing complication as far back as Cavor's description of the silence -that fell before the first speaking of the Grand Lunar become confusingly -predominant in the record. These undulations are evidently the result of -radiations proceeding from a lunar source, and their persistent -approximation to the alternating signals of Cavor is curiously suggestive -of some operator deliberately seeking to mix them in with his message and -render it illegible. At first they are small and regular, so that with a -little care and the loss of very few words we have been able to -disentangle Cavor's message; then they become broad and larger, then -suddenly they are irregular, with an irregularity that gives the effect at -last of some one scribbling through a line of writing. For a long time -nothing can be made of this madly zigzagging trace; then quite abruptly -the interruption ceases, leaves a few words clear, and then resumes and -continues for the rest of the message, completely obliterating whatever -Cavor was attempting to transmit. Why, if this is indeed a deliberate -intervention, the Selenites should have preferred to let Cavor go on -transmitting his message in happy ignorance of their obliteration of its -record, when it was clearly quite in their power and much more easy and -convenient for them to stop his proceedings at any time, is a problem to -which I can contribute nothing. The thing seems to have happened so, and -that is all I can say. This last rag of his description of the Grand Lunar -begins in mid-sentence.] - -"...interrogated me very closely upon my secret. I was able in a little -while to get to an understanding with them, and at last to elucidate what -has been a puzzle to me ever since I realised the vastness of their -science, namely, how it is they themselves have never discovered -'Cavorite.' I find they know of it as a theoretical substance, but they -have always regarded it as a practical impossibility, because for some -reason there is no helium in the moon, and helium..." - -[Across the last letters of helium slashes the resumption of that -obliterating trace. Note that word "secret," for that, and that alone, I -base my interpretation of the message that follows, the last message, as -both Mr. Wendigee and myself now believe it to be, that he is ever likely -to send us.] - - - - - -Chapter 26 - - - - -The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth - -On this unsatisfactory manner the penultimate message of Cavor dies out. -One seems to see him away there in the blue obscurity amidst his apparatus -intently signalling us to the last, all unaware of the curtain of -confusion that drops between us; all unaware, too, of the final dangers -that even then must have been creeping upon him. His disastrous want of -vulgar common sense had utterly betrayed him. He had talked of war, he had -talked of all the strength and irrational violence of men, of their -insatiable aggressions, their tireless futility of conflict. He had filled -the whole moon world with this impression of our race, and then I think it -is plain that he made the most fatal admission that upon himself alone -hung the possibility--at least for a long time--of any further men -reaching the moon. The line the cold, inhuman reason of the moon would -take seems plain enough to me, and a suspicion of it, and then perhaps -some sudden sharp realisation of it, must have come to him. One imagines -him about the moon with the remorse of this fatal indiscretion growing in -his mind. During a certain time I am inclined to guess the Grand Lunar was -deliberating the new situation, and for all that time Cavor may have gone -as free as ever he had gone. But obstacles of some sort prevented his -getting to his electromagnetic apparatus again after that message I have -just given. For some days we received nothing. Perhaps he was having fresh -audiences, and trying to evade his previous admissions. Who can hope to -guess? - -And then suddenly, like a cry in the night, like a cry that is followed by -a stillness, came the last message. It is the briefest fragment, the -broken beginnings of two sentences. - -The first was: "I was mad to let the Grand Lunar know--" - -There was an interval of perhaps a minute. One imagines some interruption -from without. A departure from the instrument--a dreadful hesitation -among the looming masses of apparatus in that dim, blue-lit cavern--a -sudden rush back to it, full of a resolve that came too late. Then, as if -it were hastily transmitted came: "Cavorite made as follows: take--" - -There followed one word, a quite unmeaning word as it stands: "uless." - -And that is all. - -It may be he made a hasty attempt to spell "useless" when his fate was -close upon him. Whatever it was that was happening about that apparatus we -cannot tell. Whatever it was we shall never, I know, receive another -message from the moon. For my own part a vivid dream has come to my help, -and I see, almost as plainly as though I had seen it in actual fact, a -blue-lit shadowy dishevelled Cavor struggling in the grip of these insect -Selenites, struggling ever more desperately and hopelessly as they press -upon him, shouting, expostulating, perhaps even at last fighting, and -being forced backwards step by step out of all speech or sign of his -fellows, for evermore into the Unknown--into the dark, into that silence -that has no end.... - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The First Men In The Moon, by H. G. 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Wells - - - - -Chapter 1 - - - - -Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne - -As I sit down to write here amidst the shadows of vine-leaves under the -blue sky of southern Italy, it comes to me with a certain quality of -astonishment that my participation in these amazing adventures of Mr. -Cavor was, after all, the outcome of the purest accident. It might have -been any one. I fell into these things at a time when I thought myself -removed from the slightest possibility of disturbing experiences. I had -gone to Lympne because I had imagined it the most uneventful place in the -world. "Here, at any rate," said I, "I shall find peace and a chance to -work!" - -And this book is the sequel. So utterly at variance is destiny with all -the little plans of men. I may perhaps mention here that very recently I -had come an ugly cropper in certain business enterprises. Sitting now -surrounded by all the circumstances of wealth, there is a luxury in -admitting my extremity. I can admit, even, that to a certain extent my -disasters were conceivably of my own making. It may be there are -directions in which I have some capacity, but the conduct of business -operations is not among these. But in those days I was young, and my youth -among other objectionable forms took that of a pride in my capacity for -affairs. I am young still in years, but the things that have happened to -me have rubbed something of the youth from my mind. Whether they have -brought any wisdom to light below it is a more doubtful matter. - -It is scarcely necessary to go into the details of the speculations that -landed me at Lympne, in Kent. Nowadays even about business transactions -there is a strong spice of adventure. I took risks. In these things there -is invariably a certain amount of give and take, and it fell to me finally -to do the giving. Reluctantly enough. Even when I had got out of -everything, one cantankerous creditor saw fit to be malignant. Perhaps you -have met that flaming sense of outraged virtue, or perhaps you have only -felt it. He ran me hard. It seemed to me, at last, that there was nothing -for it but to write a play, unless I wanted to drudge for my living as a -clerk. I have a certain imagination, and luxurious tastes, and I meant to -make a vigorous fight for it before that fate overtook me. In addition to -my belief in my powers as a business man, I had always in those days had -an idea that I was equal to writing a very good play. It is not, I -believe, a very uncommon persuasion. I knew there is nothing a man can do -outside legitimate business transactions that has such opulent -possibilities, and very probably that biased my opinion. I had, indeed, -got into the habit of regarding this unwritten drama as a convenient -little reserve put by for a rainy day. That rainy day had come, and I set -to work. - -I soon discovered that writing a play was a longer business than I had -supposed; at first I had reckoned ten days for it, and it was to have a -pied-a-terre while it was in hand that I came to Lympne. I reckoned myself -lucky in getting that little bungalow. I got it on a three years' -agreement. I put in a few sticks of furniture, and while the play was in -hand I did my own cooking. My cooking would have shocked Mrs. Bond. And -yet, you know, it had flavour. I had a coffee-pot, a sauce-pan for eggs, -and one for potatoes, and a frying-pan for sausages and bacon - such was -the simple apparatus of my comfort. One cannot always be magnificent, but -simplicity is always a possible alternative. For the rest I laid in an -eighteen-gallon cask of beer on credit, and a trustful baker came each -day. It was not, perhaps, in the style of Sybaris, but I have had worse -times. I was a little sorry for the baker, who was a very decent man -indeed, but even for him I hoped. - -Certainly if any one wants solitude, the place is Lympne. It is in the -clay part of Kent, and my bungalow stood on the edge of an old sea cliff -and stared across the flats of Romney Marsh at the sea. In very wet -weather the place is almost inaccessible, and I have heard that at times -the postman used to traverse the more succulent portions of his route with -boards upon his feet. I never saw him doing so, but I can quite imagine -it. Outside the doors of the few cottages and houses that make up the -present village big birch besoms are stuck, to wipe off the worst of the -clay, which will give some idea of the texture of the district. I doubt if -the place would be there at all, if it were not a fading memory of things -gone for ever. It was the big port of England in Roman times, Portus -Lemanus, and now the sea is four miles away. All down the steep hill are -boulders and masses of Roman brickwork, and from it old Watling Street, -still paved in places, starts like an arrow to the north. I used to stand -on the hill and think of it all, the galleys and legions, the captives and -officials, the women and traders, the speculators like myself, all the -swarm and tumult that came clanking in and out of the harbour. And now -just a few lumps of rubble on a grassy slope, and a sheep or two - and me -And where the port had been were the levels of the marsh, sweeping round -in a broad curve to distant Jungeness, and dotted here and there with tree -clumps and the church towers of old medical towns that are following -Lemanus now towards extinction. - -That outlook on the marsh was, indeed, one of the finest views I have ever -seen. I suppose Jungeness was fifteen miles away; it lay like a raft on -the sea, and farther westward were the hills by Hastings under the setting -sun. Sometimes they hung close and clear, sometimes they were faded and -low, and often the drift of the weather took them clean out of sight. And -all the nearer parts of the marsh were laced and lit by ditches and -canals. - -The window at which I worked looked over the skyline of this crest, and it -was from this window that I first set eyes on Cavor. It was just as I was -struggling with my scenario, holding down my mind to the sheer hard work -of it, and naturally enough he arrested my attention. - -The sun had set, the sky was a vivid tranquillity of green and yellow, and -against that he came out black - the oddest little figure. - -He was a short, round-bodied, thin-legged little man, with a jerky quality -in his motions; he had seen fit to clothe his extraordinary mind in a -cricket cap, an overcoat, and cycling knickerbockers and stockings. Why he -did so I do not know, for he never cycled and he never played cricket. It -was a fortuitous concurrence of garments, arising I know not how. He -gesticulated with his hands and arms, and jerked his head about and -buzzed. He buzzed like something electric. You never heard such buzzing. -And ever and again he cleared his throat with a most extraordinary noise. - -There had been rain, and that spasmodic walk of his was enhanced by the -extreme slipperiness of the footpath. Exactly as he came against the sun -he stopped, pulled out a watch, hesitated. Then with a sort of convulsive -gesture he turned and retreated with every manifestation of haste, no -longer gesticulating, but going with ample strides that showed the -relatively large size of his feet - they were, I remember, grotesquely -exaggerated in size by adhesive clay - to the best possible advantage. - -This occurred on the first day of my sojourn, when my play-writing energy -was at its height and I regarded the incident simply as an annoying -distraction - the waste of five minutes. I returned to my scenario. But -when next evening the apparition was repeated with remarkable precision, -and again the next evening, and indeed every evening when rain was not -falling, concentration upon the scenario became a considerable effort. -"Confound the man," I said, "one would think he was learning to be a -marionette!" and for several evenings I cursed him pretty heartily. Then -my annoyance gave way to amazement and curiosity. Why on earth should a -man do this thing? On the fourteenth evening I could stand it no longer, -and so soon as he appeared I opened the french window, crossed the -verandah, and directed myself to the point where he invariably stopped. - -He had his watch out as I came up to him. He had a chubby, rubicund face -with reddish brown eyes - previously I had seen him only against the -light. "One moment, sir," said I as he turned. He stared. "One moment," -he said, "certainly. Or if you wish to speak to me for longer, and it is -not asking too much - your moment is up - would it trouble you to -accompany me? " - -"Not in the least," said I, placing myself beside him. - -"My habits are regular. My time for intercourse - limited." - -"This, I presume, is your time for exercise? " - -"It is. I come here to enjoy the sunset." - -"You don't." - -"Sir? " - -"You never look at it." - -"Never look at it? " - -"No. I've watched you thirteen nights, and not once have you looked at the -sunset - not once." - -He knitted his brows like one who encounters a problem. - -"Well, I enjoy the sunlight - the atmosphere - I go along this path, -through that gate " - he jerked his head over his shoulder - " and round --" - -"You don't. You never have been. It's all nonsense. There isn't a way. -To-night for instance" - -"Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I had -already been out just three minutes over the precise half-hour, decided -there was not time to go round, turned -" - -"You always do." - -He looked at me - reflected. "Perhaps I do, now I come to think of it. But -what was it you wanted to speak to me about? " - -"Why, this! " - -"This? " - -"Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise" - -"Making a noise? " - -"Like this " - I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me, and it was -evident the buzzing awakened distaste. " Do I do that? " he asked. - -"Every blessed evening." - -"I had no idea." - -He stopped dead. He regarded me gravely. " Can it be," he said, " that I -have formed a Habit ? " - -"Well, it looks like it. Doesn't it? " - -He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a -puddle at his feet. - -"My mind is much occupied," he said. "And you want to know why! Well, sir, -I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do these things, but I -did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is just as you say; I -never have been beyond that field. ... And these things annoy you? " - -For some reason I was beginning to relent towards him. "Not annoy, I said. -"But - imagine yourself writing a play!" - -"I couldn't." - -"Well, anything that needs concentration." - -"Ah!" he said, "of course," and meditated. His expression became so -eloquent of distress, that I relented still more. After all, there is a -touch of aggression in demanding of a man you don't know why he hums on a -public footpath. - -"You see," he said weakly, " it's a habit." - -"Oh, I recognise that." - -"I must stop it." - -"But not if it puts you out. After all, I had no business - it's something -of a liberty." - -"Not at all, sir," he said, "not at all. I am greatly indebted to you. I -should guard myself against these things. In future I will. Could I -trouble you - once again? That noise? " - -"Something like this," I said. " Zuzzoo, zuzzoo. But really, you know -" - -"I am greatly obliged to you. In fact, I know I am getting absurdly -absent-minded. You are quite justified, sir - perfectly justified. Indeed, -I am indebted to you. The thing shall end. And now, sir, I have already -brought you farther than I should have done." - -"I do hope my impertinence -" - -"Not at all, sir, not at all." - -We regarded each other for a moment. I raised my hat and wished him a good -evening. He responded convulsively, and so we went our ways. - -At the stile I looked back at his receding figure. His bearing had changed -remarkably, he seemed limp, shrunken. The contrast with his former -gesticulating, zuzzoing self took me in some absurd way as pathetic. I -watched him out of sight. Then wishing very heartily I had kept to my own -business, I returned to my bungalow and my play. - -The next evening I saw nothing of him, nor the next. But he was very much -in my mind, and it had occurred to me that as a sentimental comic -character he might serve a useful purpose in the development of my plot. -The third day he called upon me. - -For a time I was puzzled to think what had brought him. He made -indifferent conversation in the most formal way, then abruptly he came to -business. He wanted to buy me out of my bungalow. - -"You see," he said, "I don't blame you in the least, but you've destroyed -a habit, and it disorganises my day. I've walked past here for years - -years. No doubt I've hummed. ... You've made all that impossible! " - -I suggested he might try some other direction. - -" No. There is no other direction. This is the only one. I've inquired. -And now - every afternoon at four - I come to a dead wall." - -"But, my dear sir, if the thing is so important to you.." - -"It's vital. You see, I'm - I'm an investigator - I am engaged in a -scientific research. I live -" he paused and seemed to think. "Just over -there," he said, and pointed suddenly dangerously near my eye. "The house -with white chimneys you see just over the trees. And my circumstances are -abnormal - abnormal. I am on the point of completing one of the most -important - demonstrations - I can assure you one of the most important -demonstrations that have ever been made. It requires constant thought, -constant mental ease and activity. And the afternoon was my brightest -time! - effervescing with new ideas - new points of view." - -"But why not come by still?" - -"It would be all different. I should be self-conscious. I should think of -you at your play -watching me irritated - instead of thinking of my work. -Oh! I must have the bungalow." - -I meditated. Naturally, I wanted to think the matter over thoroughly -before anything decisive was said. I was generally ready enough for -business in those days, and selling always attracted me; but in the first -place it was not my bungalow, and even if I sold it to him at a good price -I might get inconvenienced in the delivery of goods if the current owner -got wind of the transaction, and in the second I was, well - un - -discharged. It was clearly a business that required delicate handling. -Moreover, the possibility of his being in pursuit of some valuable -invention also interested me. It occurred to me that I would like to know -more of this research, not with any dishonest intention, but simply with -an idea that to know what it was would be a relief from play-writing. I -threw out feelers. - -He was quite willing to supply information. Indeed, once he was fairly -under way the conversation became a monologue. He talked like a man long -pent up, who has had it over with himself again and again. He talked for -nearly an hour, and I must confess I found it a pretty stiff bit of -listening. But through it all there was the undertone of satisfaction one -feels when one is neglecting work one has set oneself. During that first -interview I gathered very little of the drift of his work. Half his words -were technicalities entirely strange to me, and he illustrated one or two -points with what he was pleased to call elementary mathematics, computing -on an envelope with a copying-ink pencil, in a manner that made it hard -even to seem to understand. "Yes," I said, "yes. Go on!" Nevertheless I -made out enough to convince me that he was no mere crank playing at -discoveries. In spite of his crank-like appearance there was a force about -him that made that impossible. Whatever it was, it was a thing with -mechanical possibilities. He told me of a work-shed he had, and of three -assistants - originally jobbing carpenters - whom he had trained. Now, -from the work-shed to the patent office is clearly only one step. He -invited me to see those things. I accepted readily, and took care, by a -remark or so, to underline that. The proposed transfer of the bungalow -remained very conveniently in suspense. - -At last he rose to depart, with an apology for the length of his call. -Talking over his work was, he said, a pleasure enjoyed only too rarely. It -was not often he found such an intelligent listener as myself, he mingled -very little with professional scientific men. - -"So much pettiness," he explained; "so much intrigue! And really, when one -has an idea - a novel, fertilising idea - I don't want to be uncharitable, -but -" - -I am a man who believes in impulses. I made what was perhaps a rash -proposition. But you must remember, that I had been alone, play-writing in -Lympne, for fourteen days, and my compunction for his ruined walk still -hung about me. "Why not," said I, "make this your new habit? In the place -of the one I spoilt? At least, until we can settle about the bungalow. -What you want is to turn over your work in your mind. That you have always -done during your afternoon walk. Unfortunately that's over - you can't get -things back as they were. But why not come and talk about your work to me; -use me as a sort of wall against which you may throw your thoughts and -catch them again ? It's certain I don't know enough to steal your ideas -myself - and I know no scientific men -". - -I stopped. He was considering. Evidently the thing, attracted him. "But -I'm afraid I should bore you," he said. - -"You think I'm too dull? " - -" Oh, no; but technicalities " - -"Anyhow, you've interested me immensely this afternoon." - -" Of course it would be a great help to me. Nothing clears up one's ideas -so much as explaining them. Hitherto - " - -" My dear sir, say no more." - -" But really can you spare the time? " - -" There is no rest like change of occupation," I said, with profound -conviction. - -The affair was over. On my verandah steps he turned. "I am already greatly -indebted to you," he said. - -I made an interrogative noise. - -" You have completely cured me of that ridiculous habit of humming," he -explained. - -I think I said I was glad to be of any service to him, and he turned away. - -Immediately the train of thought that our conversation had suggested must -have resumed its sway. His arms began to wave in their former fashion. -The faint echo of "zuzzoo" came back to me on the breeze. ... - -Well, after all, that was not my affair. ... - -He came the next day, and again the next day after that, and delivered two -lectures on physics to our mutual satisfaction. He talked with an air of -being extremely lucid about the "ether" and "tubes of force," and " -gravitational potential," and things like that, and I sat in my other -folding-chair and said, " Yes," " Go on," " I follow you," to keep him -going. It was tremendously difficult stuff, but I do not thing he ever -suspected how much I did not understand him. There were moments when I -doubted whether I was well employed, but at any rate I was resting from -that confounded play. Now and then things gleamed on me clearly for a -space, only to vanish just when I thought I had hold of them. Sometimes my -attention failed altogether, and I would give it up and sit and stare at -him, wondering whether, after all, it would not be better to use him as a -central figure in a good farce and let all this other stuff slide. And -then, perhaps, I would catch on again for a bit. - -At the earliest opportunity I went to see his house It was large and -carelessly furnished; there were no servants other than his three -assistants, and his dietary and private life were characterised by a -philosophical simplicity. He was a water-drinker, a vegetarian, and all -those logical disciplinary things. But the sight of his equipment settled -many doubts. It looked like business from cellar to attic - an amazing -little place to find in an out-of-the-way village. The ground-floor rooms -contained benches and apparatus, the bakehouse and scullery boiler had -developed into respectable furnaces, dynamos occupied the cellar, and -there was a gasometer in the garden. He showed it to me with all the -confiding zest of a man who has been living too much alone. His seclusion -was overflowing now in an excess of confidence, and I had the good luck to -be the recipient. - -The three assistants were creditable specimens of the class of" handy-men -" from which they came. Conscientious if unintelligent, strong, civil, and -willing. One, Spargus, who did the cooking and all the metal work, had -been a sailor; a second, Gibbs, was a joiner; and the third was an -ex-jobbing gardener, and now general assistant. They were the merest -labourers. All the intelligent work was done by Cavor. Theirs was the -darkest ignorance compared even with my muddled impression. - -And now, as to the nature of these inquiries. Here, unhappily, comes a -grave difficulty. I am no scientific expert, and if I were to attempt to -set forth in the highly scientific language of Mr. Cavor the aim to which -his experiments tended, I am afraid I should confuse not only the reader -but myself, and almost certainly I should make some blunder that would -bring upon me the mockery of every up-to-date student of mathematical -physics in the country. The best thing I can do therefore is, I think to -give my impressions in my own inexact language, without any attempt to -wear a garment of knowledge to which I have no claim. - -The object of Mr. Cavor's search was a substance that should be "opaque " -- he used some other word I have forgotten, but "opaque" conveys the idea -- to "all forms of radiant energy." "Radiant energy," he made me -understand, was anything like light or heat, or those Rontgen Rays there -was so much talk about a year or so ago, or the electric waves of Marconi, -or gravitation. All these things, he said, radiate out from centres, and -act on bodies at a distance, whence comes the term "radiant energy." Now -almost all substances are opaque to some form or other of radiant energy. -Glass, for example, is transparent to light, but much less so to heat, so -that it is useful as a fire-screen; and alum is transparent to light, but -blocks heat completely. A solution of iodine in carbon bisulphide, on the -other hand, completely blocks light, but is quite transparent to heat. It -will hide a fire from you, but permit all its warmth to reach you. Metals -are not only opaque to light and heat, but also to electrical energy, -which passes through both iodine solution and glass almost as though they -were not interposed. And so on. - -Now all known substances are "transparent" to gravitation. You can use -screens of various sorts to cut off the light or heat, or electrical -influence of the sun, or the warmth of the earth from anything; you can -screen things by sheets of metal from Marconi's rays, but nothing will cut -off the gravitational attraction of the sun or the gravitational -attraction of the earth. Yet why there should be nothing is hard to say. -Cavor did not see why such a substance should not exist, and certainly I -could not tell him. I had never thought of such a possibility before. He -showed me by calculations on paper, which Lord Kelvin, no doubt, or -Professor Lodge, or Professor Karl Pearson, or any of those great -scientific people might have understood, but which simply reduced me to a -hopeless muddle, that not only was such a substance possible, but that it -must satisfy certain conditions. It was an amazing piece of reasoning. -Much as it amazed and exercised me at the time, it would be impossible to -reproduce it here. "Yes," I said to it all, "yes; go on!" Suffice it for -this story that he believed he might be able to manufacture this possible -substance opaque to gravitation out of a complicated alloy of metals and -something new - a new element, I fancy - called, I believe, helium, which -was sent to him from London in sealed stone jars. Doubt has been thrown -upon this detail, but I am almost certain it was helium he had sent him in -sealed stone jars. It was certainly something very gaseous and thin. If -only I had taken notes... - -But then, how was I to foresee the necessity of taking notes ? - -Any one with the merest germ of an imagination will understand the -extraordinary possibilities of such a substance, and will sympathise a -little with the emotion I felt as this understanding emerged from the haze -of abstruse phrases in which Cavor expressed himself. Comic relief in a -play indeed! It was some time before I would believe that I had -interpreted him aright, and I was very careful not to ask questions that -would have enabled him to gauge the profundity of misunderstanding into -which he dropped his daily exposition. But no one reading the story of it -here will sympathise fully, because from my barren narrative it will be -impossible to gather the strength of my conviction that this astonishing -substance was positively going to be made. - -I do not recall that I gave my play an hour's consecutive work at any time -after my visit to his house. My imagination had other things to do. There -seemed no limit to the possibilities of the stuff; whichever way I tried I -came on miracles and revolutions. For example, if one wanted to lift a -weight, however enormous, one had only to get a sheet of this substance -beneath it, and one might lift it with a straw My first natural impulse -was to apply this principle to guns and ironclads, and all the material -and methods of war, and from that to shipping, locomotion, building, every -conceivable form of human industry. The chance that had brought me into -the very birth-chamber of this new time - it was an epoch, no less - was -one of those chances that come once in a thousand years. The thing -unrolled, it expanded and expanded. Among other things I saw in it my -redemption as a business man. I saw a parent company, and daughter -companies, applications to right of us, applications to left, rings and -trusts, privileges, and concessions spreading and spreading, until one -vast, stupendous Cavorite company ran and ruled the world. - -And I was in it! - -I took my line straight away. I knew I was staking everything, but I -jumped there and then. - -"We're on absolutely the biggest thing that has ever been invented," I -said, and put the accent on "we." "If you want to keep me out of this, -you'll have to do it with a gun. I'm coming down to be your fourth -labourer to-morrow." - -He seemed surprised at my enthusiasm, but not a bit suspicious or hostile. -Rather, he was self-depreciatory. He looked at me doubtfully. "But do you -really think - ?" he said. "And your play! How about that play? " - -" It's vanished!" I cried. "My dear sir, don't you see what you've got? -Don't you see what you're going to do?" - -That was merely a rhetorical turn, but positively, he didn't. At first I -could not believe it. He had not had the beginning of the inkling of an -idea. This astonishing little man had been working on purely theoretical -grounds the whole time; When he said it was "the most important" research -the world had ever seen, he simply meant it squared up so many theories, -settled so much that was in doubt; he had troubled no more about the -application of the stuff he was going to turn out than if he had been a -machine that makes guns. This was a possible substance, and he was going -to make it! V'la tout, as the Frenchman says. - -Beyond that, he was childish; If he made it, it would go down to posterity -as Cavorite or Cavorine, and he would be made an F.R.S., and his portrait -given away as a scientific worthy with Nature, and things like that. And -that was all he saw! He would have dropped this bombshell into the world -as though he had discovered a new species of gnat, if it had not happened -that I had come along. And there it would have lain and fizzled, like one -or two other little things these scientific people have lit and dropped -about us. - -When I realised this, it was I did the talking, and Cavor who said, "Go -on!" I jumped up. I paced the room, gesticulating like a boy of twenty. I -tried to make him understand his duties and responsibilities in the matter -- our duties and responsibilities in the matter. I assured him we might -make wealth enough to work any sort of social revolution we fancied, we -might own and order the whole world. I told him of companies and patents, -and the case for secret processes. All these things seemed to take him -much as his mathematics had taken me. A look of perplexity came into his -ruddy little face. He stammered something about indifference to wealth, -but I brushed all that aside. He had got to be rich, and it was no good -his stammering. I gave him to understand the sort of man I was, and that I -had had very considerable business experience. I did not tell him I was an -undischarged bankrupt at the time, because that was temporary, but I think -I reconciled my evident poverty with my financial claims. And quite -insensibly, in the way such projects grow, the understanding of a Cavorite -monopoly grew up between us. He was to make the stuff, and I was to make -the boom. - -I stuck like a leech to the "we" - "you" and "I" didn't exist for me. - -His idea was that the profits I spoke of might go to endow research, but -that, of course, was a matter we had to settle later. "That's all right," -I shouted, " that's all right." The great point, as I insisted, was to get -the thing done. - -"Here is a substance," I cried, "no home, no factory, no fortress, no ship -can dare to be without - more universally applicable even than a patent -medicine. There isn't a solitary aspect of it, not one of its ten thousand -possible uses that will not make us rich, Cavor, beyond the dreams of -avarice! " - -"No!" he said. "I begin to see. It's extraordinary how one gets new points -of view by talking over things!" - -"And as it happens you have just talked to the right man! " - -" I suppose no one," he said, "is absolutely averse to enormous wealth. Of -course there is one thing - " - -He paused. I stood still. - -" It is just possible, you know, that we may not be able to make it after -all! It may be one of those things that are a theoretical possibility, but -a practical absurdity. Or when we make it, there may be some little -hitch!" - -"We'll tackle the hitch when it comes." said I. - - - - - -Chapter 2 - - - - -The First Making of Cavorite - -But Cavor's fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was -concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was -made! - -Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least -expected it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other -things - I wish I knew the particulars now ! - and he intended to leave -the mixture a week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had -miscalculated, the last stage in the combination would occur when the -stuff sank to a temperature of 60 Fahr. But it chanced that, unknown to -Cavor, dissension had arisen about the furnace tending. Gibbs, who had -previously seen to this, had suddenly attempted to shift it to the man who -had been a gardener, on the score that coal was soil, being dug, and -therefore could not possibly fall within the province of a joiner; the man -who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, however, that coal was a metallic -or ore-like substance, let alone that he was cook. But Spargus insisted on -Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was a joiner and that coal is -notoriously fossil wood. Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish the -furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor was too much immersed in -certain interesting problems concerning a Cavorite flying machine -(neglecting the resistance of the air and one or two other points) to -perceive that anything was wrong. And the premature birth of his invention -took place just as he was coming across the field to my bungalow for our -afternoon talk and tea. - -I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, and -everything was prepared, and the sound of his "zuzzoo" had brought me out -upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against the autumnal -sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just rose above a -gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden Hills, faint -and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out spacious and serene. -And then - - -The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as they -rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then overtaking -them came a huge white flame. The trees about the building swayed and -whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towards the flare. My -ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left me deaf on one side for -life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded. - -I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor's house, and even as I -did so came the wind. - -Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in great -leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the same -moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through the -screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six -yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great strides towards -the focus of the disturbance. Cavor, kicking and flapping, came down -again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggled up and -was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishing at last -among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his house. - -A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance rushed -up towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing past me, -dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the worst was -over. The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere strong gale, -and 1 became once more aware that I had breath and feet. By leaning back -against the wind I managed to stop, and could collect such wits as still -remained to me. - -In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil -sunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything -was flattened and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my -bungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwards -towards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whose tall -and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house. - -I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to -them, and for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of smashed -branches and fencing that had banked itself against a portion of his -garden wall I perceived something stir. I made a run for this, but before -I reached it a brown object separated itself, rose on two muddy legs, and -protruded two drooping, bleeding hands. Some tattered ends of garment -fluttered out from its middle portion and streamed before the wind. - -For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that it -was Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward -against the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth. - -He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His -face worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He -looked as damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, and -his remark therefore amazed me exceeding. - -"Gratulate me," he gasped; "gratulate me!" - -"Congratulate you! said I. "Good heavens! What for?" - -"I've done it." - -"You have. What on earth caused that explosion? " - -A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it wasn't -an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, and we -stood clinging to one another. - -"Try and get back - to my bungalow," I bawled in his ear. He did not hear -me, and shouted something about "three martyrs - science," and also -something about "not much good." At the time he laboured under the -impression that his three attendants had perished in the whirlwind. -Happily this was incorrect. Directly he had left for my bungalow they had -gone. Off to the public-house in Lympne to discuss the question of the -furnaces over some trivial refreshment. - -I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time he -understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to reach -the shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat in -arm-chairs and panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter -articles of furniture were in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage -was done. Happily the kitchen door had stood the pressure upon it, so that -all my crockery and cooking materials had survived. The oil stove was -still burning, and I put on the water to boil again for tea. And that -prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation. - -"Quite correct," he insisted; "quite correct. I've done it, and it's all -right." - -"But", I protested. "All right! Why, there can't be a rick standing, or a -fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles round." - -"It's all right - really. I didn't, of course, foresee this little upset. -My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and I'm apt to disregard -these practical side issues. But it's all right " - -"My dear sir," I cried, " don't you see you've done thousands of pounds' -worth of damage?" - -"There, I throw myself on your discretion. I'm not a practical man, of -course, but don't you think they will regard it as a cyclone? " - -"But the explosion " - -"It was not an explosion. It's perfectly simple. Only, as I say, I'm apt -to overlook these little things. Its that zuzzoo business on a larger -scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this Cavorite, in a -thin, wide sheet. ..." - -He paused. "You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to gravitation, -that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each other? " - -"Yes," said I. "Yes." - -"Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 Fahr, and the process of -its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the portions of roof and -ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. I suppose you know - -everybody knows nowadays - that, as a usual thing, the air has weight, -that it presses on everything at the surface of the earth, presses in all -directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a half pounds to the square -inch? " - -"I know that," said I. " Go on." - -"I know that too," he remarked. " Only this shows you how useless -knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this ceased -to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and the air -round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of fourteen -pounds and a half to the square in upon this suddenly weightless air. Ah! -you begin to see! The air all about the Cavorite crushed in upon the air -above it with irresistible force. The air above the Cavorite was forced -upward violently, the air that rushed in to replace it immediately lost -weight, ceased to exert any pressure, followed suit, blew the ceiling -through and the roof off. ... - -"You perceive," he said, "it formed a sort of atmospheric fountain, a kind -of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself hadn't been loose -and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you what would have -happened?" - -I thought. "I suppose," I said, "the air would be rushing up and up over -that infernal piece of stuff now." - -"Precisely," he said. "A huge fountain " - -"Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the -atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It -would have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff! " - -"Not exactly into space," said Cavor, "but as bad - practically. It would -have whipped the air off the world as one peels a banana, and flung it -thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of course - but on -an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little better than if it -never came back!" - -I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations had -been upset. "What do you mean to do now? " I asked. - -"In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some of -this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself of your -domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will converse more -at leisure. It will be wise, I think " - he laid a muddy hand on my arm" -if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I know I have caused -great damage - probably even dwelling-houses may be ruined here and there -upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I cannot possibly pay for -the damage I have done, and if the real cause of this is published, it -will lead only to heartburning and the obstruction of my work. One cannot -foresee everything, you know, and I cannot consent for one moment to add -the burthen of practical considerations to my theorising. Later on, when -you have come in with your practical mind, and Cavorite is floated - -floated is the word, isn't it? - and it has realised all you anticipate -for it, we may set matters right with these persons. But not now - not -now. If no other explanation is offered, people, in the present -unsatisfactory state of meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a -cyclone; there might be a public subscription, and as my house has -collapsed and been burnt, I should in that case receive a considerable -share in the compensation, which would be extremely helpful to the -prosecution of our researches. But if it is known that I caused this, -there will be no public subscription, and everybody will be put out. -Practically I should never get a chance of working in peace again. My -three assistants may or may not have perished. That is a detail. If they -have, it is no great loss; they were more zealous than able, and this -premature event must be largely due to their joint neglect of the furnace. -If they have not perished, I doubt if they have the intelligence to -explain the affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And if during the -temporary unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one of the -untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours - " - -He paused and regarded me. - -A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to -entertain. - -"Perhaps," said I, rising to my feet, " we had better begin by looking for -a trowel," and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the greenhouse. - -And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question alone. -It was clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor's society I had not -foreseen. The absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating the -terrestrial globe, might at any moment result in some other grave -inconvenience. On the other hand I was young, my affairs were in a mess, -and I was in just the mood for reckless adventure - with a chance of -something good at the end of it. I had quite settled in my mind that I was -to have half at least in that aspect of the affair. Fortunately I held my -bungalow, as I have already explained, on a three-year agreement, without -being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, such as there was of it, -had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, insured, and altogether devoid -of associations. In the end I decided to keep on with him, and see the -business through. - -Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer -doubted at all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began to -have doubts about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to work at -once to reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our experiments. Cavor -talked more on my level than he had ever done before, when it came to the -question of how we should make the stuff next. - -"Of course we must make it again," he said, with a sort of glee I had not -expected in him, "of course we must make it again. We have caught a -Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good and -all. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, we -will. But - there must be risks! There must be. In experimental work there -always are. And here, as a practical man, you must come in. For my own -part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very thin. Yet -I don't know. I have a certain dim perception of another method. I can -hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into my mind, while I -was rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, and very doubtful -how I the whole adventure was to end, as being absolutely the thing I -ought to have done. - -Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept at -work restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it became -absolutely necessary to decide upon the precise form and method of our -second attempt. Our only hitch was the strike of the three labourers, who -objected to my activity as a foreman. But that matter we compromised after -two days' delay. - - - - - -Chapter 3 - - - - -The Building of the sphere - -I REMEMBER the occasion very distinctly when Cavor told me of his idea of -the sphere. He had had intimations of it before, but at the time it seemed -to come to him in a rush. We were returning to the bungalow for tea, and -on the way he fell humming. Suddenly he shouted, "That's it! That -finishes it! A sort of roller blind!" - -"Finishes what?" I asked. - -"Space - anywhere! The moon." - -"What do you mean? " - -"Mean? Why - it must be a sphere! That's what I mean!" - -I saw I was out of it, and for a time I let him talk in his own fashion. I -hadn't the ghost of an idea then of his drift. But after he had taken tea -he made it clear to me. - -"It's like this," he said. "Last time I ran this stuff that cuts things -off from gravitation into a flat tank with an overlap that held it down. -And directly it had cooled and the manufacture was completed all that -uproar happened, nothing above it weighed anything, the air went squirting -up, the house squirted up, and if the stuff itself hadn't squirted up too, -I don't Know what would have happened! But suppose the substance is loose, -and quite free to go up? " - -"It will go up at once!" - -"Exactly. With no more disturbance than firing a big gun." - -"But what good will that do? " - -"I'm going up with it! " - -I put down my teacup and stared at him. - -"Imagine a sphere," he explained, "large enough to hold two people and -their luggage. It will be made of steel lined with thick glass; it will -contain a proper store of solidified air, concentrated food, water -distilling apparatus, and so forth. And enamelled, as it were, on the -outer steel - " - -"Cavorite? " - -"Yes." - -"But how will you get inside? " - -"There was a similar problem about a dumpling." - -"Yes, I know. But how?" - -"That's perfectly easy. An air-tight manhole is all that is needed. That, -of course, will have to be a little complicated; there will have to be a -valve, so that things may be thrown out, if necessary, without much loss -of air." - -"Like Jules Verne's thing in A Trip to the Moon." - -But Cavor was not a reader of fiction. - -"I begin to see," I said slowly. "And you could get in and screw yourself -up while the Cavorite was warm, and as soon as it cooled it would become -impervious to gravitation, and off you would fly -" - -"At a tangent." - -"You would go off in a straight line - " I stopped abruptly. "What is to -prevent the thing travelling in a straight line into space for ever?" I -asked. "You're not safe to get anywhere, and if you do - how will you get -back? " - -"I've just thought of that," said Cavor. "That's what I meant when I said -the thing is finished. The inner glass sphere can be air-tight, and, -except for the manhole, continuous, and the steel sphere can be made in -sections, each section capable of rolling up after the fashion of a roller -blind. These can easily be worked by springs, and released and checked by -electricity conveyed by platinum wires fused through the glass. All that -is merely a question of detail. So you see, that except for the thickness -of the blind rollers, the Cavorite exterior of the sphere will consist of -windows or blinds, whichever you like to call them. Well, when all these -windows or blinds are shut, no light, no heat, no gravitation, no radiant -energy of any sort will get at the inside of the sphere, it will fly on -through space in a straight line, as you say. But open a window, imagine -one of the windows open. Then at once any heavy body that chances to be in -that direction will attract us " - -I sat taking it in. - -"You see?" he said. - -"Oh, I see." - -"Practically we shall be able to tack about in space just as we wish. Get -attracted by this and that." - -"Oh, yes. That's clear enough. Only - " - -" Well? " - -"I don't quite see what we shall do it for! It's really only jumping off -the world and back again." - -"Surely! For example, one might go to the moon." - -"And when one got there? What would you find? " - -"We should see - Oh! consider the new knowledge." - -"Is there air there? " - -"There may be." - -"It's a fine idea," I said, "but it strikes me as a large order all the -same. The moon! I'd much rather try some smaller things first." - -"They're out of the question, because of the air difficulty." - -"Why not apply that idea of spring blinds - Cavorite blinds in strong -steel cases - to lifting weights?" - -"It wouldn't work," he insisted. "After all, to go into outer space is not -so much worse, if at all, than a polar expedition. Men go on polar -expeditions." - -"Not business men. And besides, they get paid for polar expeditions. And -if anything goes wrong there are relief parties. But this - it's just -firing ourselves off the world for nothing." - -"Call it prospecting." - -"You'll have to call it that. ... One might make a book of it perhaps," I -said. - -"I have no doubt there will be minerals," said Cavor. - -"For example? " - -"Oh! sulphur, ores, gold perhaps, possibly new elements." - -"Cost of carriage," I said. "You know you're not a practical man. The -moon's a quarter of a million miles away." - -"It seems to me it wouldn't cost much to cart any weight anywhere if you -packed it in a Cavorite case." - -I had not thought of that. "Delivered free on head of purchaser, eh? " - -"It isn't as though we were confined to the moon." - -"You mean? " - -"There's Mars - clear atmosphere, novel surroundings, exhilarating sense -of lightness. It might be pleasant to go there." - -"Is there air on Mars? " - -"Oh, yes! " - -"Seems as though you might run it as a sanatorium. By the way, how far is -Mars? " - -"Two hundred million miles at present," said Cavor airily; "and you go -close by the sun." - -My imagination was picking itself up again. "After all," I said, there's -something in these things. There's travel -" - -An extraordinary possibility came rushing into my mind. Suddenly I saw, as -in a vision, the whole solar system threaded with Cavorite liners and -spheres deluxe. "Rights of pre-emption," came floating into my head - -planetary rights of pre-emption. I recalled the old Spanish monopoly in -American gold. It wasn't as though it was just this planet or that - it -was all of them. I stared at Cavor's rubicund face, and suddenly my -imagination was leaping and dancing. I stood up, I walked up and down; my -tongue was unloosened. - -"I'm beginning to take it in," I said; "I'm beginning to take it in." The -transition from doubt to enthusiasm seemed to take scarcely any time at -all. "But this is tremendous!" I cried. "This is Imperial! I haven't -been dreaming of this sort of thing." - -Once the chill of my opposition was removed, his own pent-up excitement -had play. He too got up and paced. He too gesticulated and shouted. We -behaved like men inspired. We were men inspired. - - -"We'll settle all that!" he said in answer to some incidental difficulty -that had pulled me up. "We'll soon settle that! We'll start the drawings -for mouldings this very night." - -"We'll start them now," I responded, and we hurried off to the laboratory -to begin upon this work forthwith. - -I was like a child in Wonderland all that night. The dawn found us both -still at work - we kept our electric light going heedless of the day. I -remember now exactly how these drawings looked. I shaded and tinted while -Cavor drew - smudged and haste-marked they were in every line, but -wonderfully correct. We got out the orders for the steel blinds and frames -we needed from that night's work, and the glass sphere was designed within -a week. We gave up our afternoon conversations and our old routine -altogether. We worked, and we slept and ate when we could work no longer -for hunger and fatigue. Our enthusiasm infected even our three men, though -they had no idea what the sphere was for. Through those days the man Gibbs -gave up walking, and went everywhere, even across the room, at a sort of -fussy run. - -And it grew - the sphere. December passed, January - I spent a day with a -broom sweeping a path through the snow from bungalow to laboratory - -February, March. By the end of March the completion was in sight. In -January had come a team of horses, a huge packing-case; we had our thick -glass sphere now ready, and in position under the crane we had rigged to -sling it into the steel shell. All the bars and blinds of the steel shell -- it was not really a spherical shell, but polyhedral, with a roller blind -to each facet - had arrived by February, and the lower half was bolted -together. The Cavorite was half made by March, the metallic paste had gone -through two of the stages in its manufacture, and we had plastered quite -half of it on to the steel bars ad. blinds. It was astonishing how closely -we kept to the lines of Cavor's first inspiration in working out the -scheme. When the bolting together of the sphere was finished, he proposed -to remove the rough roof of the temporary laboratory in which the work was -done, and build a furnace about it. So the last stage of Cavorite making, -in which the paste is heated to a dull red glow in a stream of helium, -would be accomplished then it was already on the sphere. - -And then we had to discuss and decide what provisions we were to take - -compressed foods, concentrated essences, steel cylinders containing -reserve oxygen, an arrangement for removing carbonic acid and waste from -the air and restoring oxygen by means of sodium peroxide, water -condensers, and so forth. I remember the little heap they made in the -corner - tins, and rolls, and boxes - convincingly matter-of-fact. - -It was a strenuous time, with little chance of thinking. But one day, -when we were drawing near the end, an odd mood came over me. I had been -bricking up the furnace all the morning, and I sat down by these -possessions dead beat. Everything seemed dull and incredible. - -"But look here, Cavor," I said. "After all! What's it all for?" - -He smiled. "The thing now is to go." - -"The moon," I reflected. But what do you expect? I thought the moon was a -dead world." - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"We're going to see." - -"Are we?" I said, and stared before me. - -"You are tired," he remarked. "You'd better take a walk this afternoon." - -"No," I said obstinately; "I'm going to finish this brickwork." - -And I did, and insured myself a night of insomnia. I don't think I have -ever had such a night. I had some bad times before my business collapse, -but the very worst of those was sweet slumber compared to this infinity of -aching wakefulness. I was suddenly in the most enormous funk at the thing -we were going to do. - -I do not remember before that night thinking at all of the risks we were -running. Now they came like that array of spectres that once beleaguered -Prague, and camped around me. The strangeness of what we were about to do, -the unearthliness of it, overwhelmed me. I was like a man awakened out of -pleasant dreams to the most horrible surroundings. I lay, eyes wide open, -and the sphere seemed to get more flimsy and feeble, and Cavor more unreal -and fantastic, and the whole enterprise madder and madder every moment. - -I got out of bed and wandered about. I sat at the window and stared at -the immensity of space. Between the stars was the void, the unfathomable -darkness! I tried to recall the fragmentary knowledge of astronomy I had -gained in my irregular reading, but it was all too vague to furnish any -idea of the things we might expect. At last I got back to bed and snatched -some moments of sleep - moments of nightmare rather - in which I fell and -fell and fell for evermore into the abyss of the sky. - -I astonished Cavor at breakfast. I told him shortly, "I'm not coming with -you in the sphere." - -I met all his protests with a sullen persistence. "The thing's too mad," -I said, "and I won't come. The thing's too mad." - -I would not go with him to the laboratory. I fretted bout my bungalow for -a time, and then took hat and stick and set out alone, I knew not whither. -It chanced to be a glorious morning: a warm wind and deep blue sky, the -first green of spring abroad, and multitudes of birds singing. I lunched -on beef and beer in a little public-house near Elham, and startled the -landlord by remarking apropos of the weather, "A man who leaves the world -when days of this sort are about is a fool!" - -"That's what I says when I heerd on it!" said the landlord, and I found -that for one poor soul at least this world had proved excessive, and there -had been a throat-cutting. I went on with a new twist to my thoughts. - -In the afternoon I had a pleasant sleep in a sunny place, and went on my -way refreshed. I came to a comfortable - looking inn near Canterbury. It -was bright with creepers, and the landlady was a clean old woman and took -my eye. I found I had just enough money to pay for my lodging with her. I -decided to stop the night there. She was a talkative body, and among many -other particulars learnt she had never been to London. "Canterbury's as -far as ever I been," she said. "I'm not one of your gad-about sort." - -"How would you like a trip to the moon?" I cried. - -"I never did hold with them ballooneys," she said evidently under the -impression that this was a common excursion enough. "I wouldn't go up in -one - not for ever so." - -This struck me as being funny. After I had supped I sat on a bench by the -door of the inn and gossiped with two labourers about brickmaking, and -motor cars, and the cricket of last year. And in the sky a faint new -crescent, blue and vague as a distant Alp, sank westward over the sun. - -The next day I returned to Cavor. "I am coming," I said. "I've been a -little out of order, that's all." - -That was the only time I felt any serious doubt our enterprise. Nerves -purely! Alter that I worked a little more carefully, and took a trudge for -an hour every day. And at last, save for the heating in the furnace, our -labours were at an end. - - - - - -Chapter 4 - - - - -Inside the Sphere - -"GO ON," said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and looked -down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. It was -evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was upon -everything. - -I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom of -the sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other impedimenta -from Cavor. The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at eighty, and as -we should lose little or none of this by radiation, we were dressed in -shoes and thin flannels. We had, however, a bundle of thick woollen -clothing and several thick blankets to guard against mischance. - -By Cavor's direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, and -so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He walked -about the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had overlooked, and -then crawled in after me. I noted something in his hand. - -"What have you got there? " I asked. - -"Haven't you brought anything to read? " - -"Good Lord! No." - -"I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties - The voyage may last - We -may be weeks! " - -"But - " - -" We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no occupation." - -"I wish I'd known" - -He peered out of the manhole. " Look! " he said. " There's something -there!" - -"Is there time? " - -"We shall be an hour." - -I looked out. It was an old number of Tit-Bits that one of the men must -have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn Lloyd's News. I -scrambled back into the sphere with these things. "What have you got? " I -said. - -I took the book from his hand and read, "The Works of William -Shakespeare". - -He coloured slightly. "My education has been so purely scientific -" he -said apologetically. - -"Never read him? " - -"Never." - -"He knew a little, you know - in an irregular sort of way." - -"Precisely what I am told," said Cavor. - -I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he -pressed a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The -little oblong of twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time -neither of us spoke. Although our case would not be impervious to sound, -everything was very still. I perceived there was nothing to grip when the -shock of our start should come, and I realised that I should be -uncomfortable for want of a chair. - -"Why have we no chairs? " I asked. - -"I've settled all that," said Cavor. "We won't need them." - -"Why not?" - -"You will see," he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to talk. - -I became silent. Suddenly it had come to me clear and vivid that I was a -fool to be inside that sphere. Even now, I asked myself, is to too late to -withdraw? The world outside the sphere, I knew, would be cold and -inhospitable enough for me - for weeks I had been living on subsidies from -Cavor - but after all, would it be as cold as the infinite zero, as -inhospitable as empty space? If it had not been for the appearance of -cowardice, I believe that even then I should have made him let me out. But -I hesitated on that score, and hesitated, and grew fretful and angry, and -the time passed. - -There came a little jerk, a noise like champagne being uncorked in another -room, and a faint whistling sound. For just one instant I had a sense of -enormous tension, a transient conviction that my feet were pressing -downward with a force of countless tons. It lasted for an infinitesimal -time. - -But it stirred me to action. "Cavor!" I said into the darkness, "my -nerve's in rags. I don't think - " - -I stopped. He made no answer. - -"Confound it!" I cried; "I'm a fool! What business have I here? I'm not -coming, Cavor. The thing's too risky. I'm getting out." - -"You can't," he said. - -"Can't! We'll soon see about that!" - -He made no answer for ten seconds. "It's too late for us to quarrel now, -Bedford," he said. "That little jerk was the start. Already we are flying -as swiftly as a bullet up into the gulf of space." - -"I -" I said, and then it didn't seem to matter what happened. For a time -I was, as it were, stunned; I had nothing to say. It was just as if I had -never heard of this idea of leaving the world before. Then I perceived an -unaccountable change in my bodily sensations. It was a feeling of -lightness, of unreality. Coupled with that was a queer sensation in the -head, an apoplectic effect almost, and a thumping of blood vessels at the -ears. Neither of these feelings diminished as time went on, but at last I -got so used to them that I experienced no inconvenience. - -I heard a click, and a little glow lamp came, into being. - -I saw Cavor's face, as white as I felt my own to be. We regarded one -another in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him made -him seem as though he floated in a void. - -"Well, we're committed," I said at last. - -"Yes," he said, " we're committed." - -"Don't move," he exclaimed, at some suggestion of a gesture. "Let your -muscles keep quite lax - as if you were in bed. We are in a little -universe of our own. Look at those things!" - -He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the -blankets in the bottom of the sphere. I was astonished to see that they -were floating now nearly a foot from the spherical wall. Then I saw from -his shadow that Cavor was no longer leaning against the glass. I thrust -out my hand behind me, and found that I too was suspended in space, clear -of the glass. - -I did not cry out nor gesticulate, but fear came upon me. It was like -being held and lilted by something - you know not what. The mere touch of -my hand against the glass moved me rapidly. I understood what had -happened, but that did not prevent my being afraid. We were cut off from -all exterior gravitation, only the attraction of objects within our sphere -had effect. Consequently everything that was not fixed to the glass was -falling - slowly because of the slightness of our masses - towards the -centre of gravity of our little world, which seemed to be somewhere about -the middle of the sphere, but rather nearer to myself than Cavor, on -account of my greater weight. - -"We must turn round," said Cavor, "and float back to back, with the things -between us." - -It was the strangest sensation conceivable, floating thus loosely in -space, at first indeed horribly strange, and when the horror passed, not -disagreeable at all, exceeding restful; indeed, the nearest thing in -earthly experience to it that I know is lying on a very thick, soft -feather bed. But the quality of utter detachment and independence! I had -not reckoned on things like this. I had expected a violent jerk at -starting, a giddy sense of speed. Instead I felt - as if I were -disembodied. It was not like the beginning of a journey; it was like the -beginning of a dream. - - - - - -Chapter 5 - - - - -The Journey to the Moon - -PRESENTLY Cavor extinguished the light. He said we had not overmuch -energy stored, and that what we had we must economise for reading. For a -time, whether it was long or short I do not know, there was nothing but -blank darkness. - -A question floated up out of the void. "How are we pointing?" I said. -"What is our direction?" - -"We are flying away from the earth at a tangent, and as the moon is near -her third quarter we are going somewhere towards her. I will open a blind --" - -Came a click, and then a window in the outer case yawned open. The sky -outside was as black as the darkness within the sphere, but the shape of -the open window was marked by an infinite number of stars. - -Those who have only seen the starry sky from the earth cannot imagine its -appearance when the vague, half luminous veil of our air has been -withdrawn. The stars we see on earth are the mere scattered survivors that -penetrate our misty atmosphere. But now at last I could realise the -meaning of the hosts of heaven! - -Stranger things we were presently to see, but that airless, star-dusted -sky! Of all things, I think that will be one of the last I shall forget. - -The little window vanished with a click, another beside it snapped open -and instantly closed, and then a third, and for a moment I had to close my -eyes because of the blinding splendour of the waning moon. - -For a space I had to stare at Cavor and the white-lit things about me to -season my eyes to light again, before I could turn them towards that -pallid glare. - -Four windows were open in order that the gravitation of the moon might act -upon all the substances in our sphere. I found I was no longer floating -freely in space, but that my feet were resting on the glass in the -direction of the moon. The blankets and cases of provisions were also -creeping slowly down the glass, and presently came to rest so as to block -out a portion of the view. It seemed to me, of course, that I looked -"down" when I looked at the moon. On earth "down" means earthward, the way -things fall, and "up" the reverse direction. Now the pull of gravitation -was towards the moon, and for all I knew to the contrary our earth was -overhead. And, of course, when all the Cavorite blinds were closed, "down" -was towards the centre of our sphere, and " up " towards its outer wall. - -It was curiously unlike earthly experience, too, to have the light coming -up to one. On earth light falls from above, or comes slanting down -sideways, but here it came from beneath our feet, and to see our shadows -we had to look up. - -At first it gave me a sort of vertigo to stand only on thick glass and -look down upon the moon through hundreds of thousands of miles of vacant -space; but this sickness passed very speedily. And then - the splendour of -the sight! - -The reader may imagine it best if he will lie on the ground some warm -summer's night and look between his upraised feet at the moon, but for -some reason, probably because the absence of air made it so much more -luminous, the moon seemed already considerably larger than it does from -earth. The minutest details of it's surface were acutely clear. And since -we did not see it through air, its outline was bright and sharp, there was -no glow or halo about it, and the star-dust that covered the sky came -right to its very margin, and marked the outline of its unilluminated -part. And as I stood and stared at the moon between my feet, that -perception of the impossible that had been with me off and on ever since -our start, returned again with tenfold conviction. - -"Cavor," I said, "this takes me queerly. Those companies we were going to -run, and all that about minerals? " - -"Well?" - -"I don't see 'em here." - -"No," said Cavor; "but you'll get over all that." - -"I suppose I'm made to turn right side up again. Still, this - For a -moment I could half believe there never was a world." - -"That copy of Lloyd's News might help you." - -I stared at the paper for a moment, then held it above the level of my -face, and found I could read it quite easily. I struck a column of mean -little advertisements. " A gentleman of private means is willing to lend -money," I read. I knew that gentleman. Then somebody eccentric wanted to -sell a Cutaway bicycle, "quite new and cost 15 pounds," for five pounds; -and a lady in distress wished to dispose of some fish knives and forks, "a -wedding present," at a great sacrifice. No doubt some simple soul was -sagely examining these knives and forks, and another triumphantly riding -off on that bicycle, and a third trustfully consulting that benevolent -gentleman of means even as I read. I laughed, and let the paper drift from -my hand. - -"Are we visible from the earth?" I asked. - -"Why?" - -"I knew some one who was rather interested in astronomy. It occurred to me -that it would be rather odd if - my friend - chanced to be looking through -come telescope." - -"It would need the most powerful telescope on earth even now to see us as -the minutest speck." - -For a time I stared in silence at the moon. - -"It's a world," I said; "one feels that infinitely more than one ever did -on earth. People perhaps - " - -"People!" he exclaimed. "No! Banish all that! Think yourself a sort of -ultra-arctic voyager exploring the desolate places of space. Look at it!" - -He waved his hand at the shining whiteness below. "It's dead - dead! Vast -extinct volcanoes, lava wildernesses, tumbled wastes of snow, or frozen -carbonic acid, or frozen air, and everywhere landslip seams and cracks and -gulfs. Nothing happens. Men have watched this planet systematically with -telescopes for over two hundred years. How much change do you think they -have seen? " - -"None." - -"They have traced two indisputable landslips, a doubtful crack, and one -slight periodic change of colour, and that's all." - -"I didn't know they'd traced even that." - -"Oh, yes. But as for people!" - -"By the way," I asked, how small a thing will the biggest telescopes show -upon the moon?" - -"One could see a fair-sized church. One could certainly see any towns or -buildings, or anything like the handiwork of men. There might perhaps be -insects, something in the way of ants, for example, so that they could -hide in deep burrows from the lunar light, or some new sort of creatures -having no earthly parallel. That is the most probable thing, if we are to -find life there at all. Think of the difference in conditions! Life must -fit itself to a day as long as fourteen earthly days, a cloudless -sun-blaze of fourteen days, and then a night of equal length, growing ever -colder and colder under these, cold, sharp stars. In that night there must -be cold, the ultimate cold, absolute zero, 273 C. below the earthly -freezing point. Whatever life there is must hibernate through that, and -rise again each day." - -He mused. "One can imagine something worm - like," he said, "taking its -air solid as an earth-worm swallows earth, or thick-skinned monsters -" - -"By the bye," I said, "why didn't we bring a gun?" - -He did not answer that question. "No," he concluded, "we just have to go. -We shall see when we get there." - -I remembered something. "Of course, there's my minerals, anyhow," I said; -"whatever the conditions may be." - -Presently he told me he wished to alter our course a little by letting the -earth tug at us for a moment. He was going to open one earthward blind -for thirty seconds. He warned me that it would make my head swim, and -advised me to extend my hands against the glass to break my fall. I did as -he directed, and thrust my feet against the bales of food cases and air -cylinders to prevent their falling upon me. Then with a click the window -flew open. I fell clumsily upon hands and face, and saw for a moment -between my black extended fingers our mother earth - a planet in a -downward sky. - -We were still very near - Cavor told me the distance was perhaps eight -hundred miles and the huge terrestrial disc filled all heaven. But already -it was plain to see that the world was a globe. The land below us was in -twilight and vague, but westward the vast gray stretches of the Atlantic -shone like molten silver under the receding day. I think I recognised the -cloud-dimmed coast-lines of France and Spain and the south of England, and -then, with a click, the shutter closed again, and I found myself in a -state of extraordinary confusion sliding slowly over the smooth glass. - -When at last things settled themselves in my mind again, it seemed quite -beyond question that the moon was "down" and under my feet, and that the -earth was somewhere away on the level of the horizon - the earth that had -been "down" to me and my kindred since the beginning of things. - -So slight were the exertions required of us, so easy did the practical -annihilation of our weight make all we had to do, that the necessity for -taking refreshment did not occur to us for nearly six hours (by Cavor's -chronometer) after our start. I was amazed at that lapse of time. Even -then I was satisfied with very little. Cavor examined the apparatus for -absorbing carbonic acid and water, and pronounced it to be in satisfactory -order, our consumption of oxygen having been extraordinarily slight. And -our talk 'being exhausted for the time, and there being nothing further -for us to do, we gave way to a curious drowsiness that had come upon us, -and spreading our blankets on the bottom of the sphere in such a manner as -to shut out most of the moonlight, wished each other good-night, and -almost immediately fell asleep. - -And so, sleeping, and sometimes talking and reading a little, and at times -eating, although without any keenness of appetite,3 but for the most part -in a sort of quiescence that was neither waking nor slumber, we fell -through a space of time that had neither night nor day in it, silently, -softly, and swiftly down towards the moon. - -It is a curious thing, that while we were in the sphere we felt not the -slightest desire for food, nor did we feel the want of it when we -abstained. At first we forced our appetites, but afterwards we fasted -completely. Altogether we did not consume one-hundredth part of the -compressed provisions we had brought with us. The amount of carbonic acid -we breathed was also unnaturally low, but why this was, I am quite unable -to explain. - - - - - -Chapter 6 - - - - -The Landing on the Moon - -I REMEBER how one day Cavor suddenly opened six of our shutters and -blinded me so that I cried aloud at him. The whole area was moon, a -stupendous scimitar of white dawn with its edge hacked out by notches of -darkness, the crescent shore of an ebbing tide of darkness, out of which -peaks and pinnacles came glittering into the blaze of the sun. I take it -reader has seen pictures or photographs of the moon and that I need not -describe the broader features of that landscape, those spacious ringlike -ranges vaster than any terrestrial mountains, their summits shining in the -day, their shadows harsh and deep, the gray disordered plains, the ridges, -hills, and craterlets, all passing at last from a blazing illumination -into a common mystery of black. Athwart this world we were flying scarcely -a hundred miles above its crests and pinnacles. And now we could see, what -no eye on earth will ever see, that under the blaze of the day the harsh -outlines of the rocks and ravines of the plains and crater floor grew gray -and indistinct under a thickening haze, that the white of their lit -surfaces broke into lumps and patches, and broke again and shrank and -vanished, and that here and there strange tints of brown and olive grew -and spread. - -But little time we had for watching then. For now we had come to the real -danger of our journey. We had to drop ever closer to the moon as we spun -about it, to slacken our pace and watch our chance, until at last we could -dare to drop upon its surface. - -For Cavor that was a time of intense exertion; for me it was an anxious -inactivity. I seemed perpetually to be getting out of his way. He leapt -about the sphere from point to point with an agility that would have been -impossible on earth. He was perpetually opening and closing the Cavorite -windows, making calculations, consulting his chronometer by means of the -glow lamp during those last eventful hours. For a long time we had all our -windows closed and hung silently in darkness hurling through space. - -Then he was feeling for the shutter studs, and suddenly four windows were -open. I staggered and covered my eyes, drenched and scorched and blinded -by the unaccustomed splendour of the sun beneath my feet. Then again the -shutters snapped, leaving my brain spinning in a darkness that pressed -against the eyes. And after that I floated in another vast, black silence. - -Then Cavor switched on the electric light, and told me he proposed to bind -all our luggage together with the blankets about it, against the -concussion of our descent. We did this with our windows closed, because in -that way our goods arranged themselves naturally at the centre of the -sphere. That too was a strange business; we two men floating loose in that -spherical space, and packing and pulling ropes. Imagine it if you can! No -up nor down, and every effort resulting in unexpected movements. Now I -would be pressed against the glass with the full force of Cavor's thrust, -now I would be kicking helplessly in a void. Now the star of the electric -light would be overhead, now under foot. Now Cavor's feet would float up -before my eyes, and now we would be crossways to each other. But at last -our goods were safely bound together in a big soft bale, all except two -blankets with head holes that we were to wrap about ourselves. - -Then for a flash Cavor opened a window moonward, and we saw that we were -dropping towards a huge central crater with a number of minor craters -grouped in a sort of cross about it. And then again Cavor flung our little -sphere open to the scorching, blinding sun. I think he was using the -sun's attraction as a brake. "Cover yourself with a blanket," he - cried, -thrusting himself from me, and for a moment I did not understand. - -Then I hauled the blanket from beneath my feet and got it about me and -over my head and eyes. Abruptly he closed the shutters again, snapped one -open again and closed it, then suddenly began snapping them all open, each -safely into its steel roller. There came a jar, and then we were rolling -over and over, bumping against the glass and against the big bale of our -luggage, and clutching at each other, and outside some white substance -splashed as if we were rolling down a slope of snow.... - -Over, clutch, bump, clutch, bump, over.... - -Came a thud, and I was half buried under the bale of our possessions, and -for a space everything was still. Then I could hear Cavor puffing and -grunting, and the snapping of a shutter in its sash. I made an effort, -thrust back our blanket-wrapped luggage, and emerged from beneath it. Our -open windows were just visible as a deeper black set with stars. - -We were still alive, and we were lying in the darkness of the shadow of -the wall of the great crater into which we had fallen. - -We sat getting our breath again, and feeling the bruises on our limbs. I -don't think either of us had had a very clear expectation of such rough -handling as we had received. I struggled painfully to my feet. "And now," -said I, "to look at the landscape of the moon But It's tremendously dark, -Cavor!" - -The glass was dewy, and as I spoke I wiped at it with my blanket. "We're -half an hour or so beyond the day," he said. "We must wait." - -It was impossible to distinguish anything. We might have been in a sphere -of steel for all that we could see. My rubbing with the blanket simply -smeared the glass, and as fast as I wiped it, it became opaque again with -freshly condensed moisture mixed with an increasing quantity of blanket -hairs. Of course I ought not to have used the blanket. In my efforts to -clear the glass I slipped upon the damp surface, and hurt my shin against -one of the oxygen cylinders that protruded from our bale. - -The thing was exasperating - it was absurd. Here we were just arrived upon -the moon, amidst we knew not what wonders, and all we could see was the -gray and streaming wall of the bubble in which we had come. - -"Confound it!" I said, "but at this rate we might have stopped at home;" -and I squatted on the bale and shivered, and drew my blanket closer about -me. - -Abruptly the moisture turned to spangles and fronds of frost. "Can you -reach the electric heater," said Cavor. "Yes - that black knob. Or we -shall freeze." - -I did not wait to be told twice. "And now," said I, what are we to do?" - -"Wait," lie said. - -"Wait?" - -"Of course. We shall have to wait until our air gets warm again, and then -this glass will clear. We can't do anything till then. It's night here -yet; we must wait for the day to overtake us. Meanwhile, don't you feel -hungry?" - -For a space I did not answer him, but sat fretting. I turned reluctantly -from the smeared puzzle of the glass and stared at his face. " Yes,"I -said, "I am hungry. I feel somehow enormously disappointed. I had expected -- I don't know what I had expected, but not this." - -I summoned my philosophy, and rearranging my blanket about me sat down on -the bale again and began my first meal on the moon. I don't think I -finished it - I forget. Presently, first in patches, then running rapidly -together into wider spaces, came the clearing of the glass, came the -drawing of the misty veil that hid the moon world from our eyes. - -We peered out upon the landscape of the moon. - - - - - -Chapter 7 - - - - -Sunrise on the Moon - -As we saw it first it was the wildest and most desolate of scenes. We were -in an enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain. the floor of the giant -crater. Its cliff-like walls closed us in on every side. From the westward -the light of the unseen sun fell upon them, reaching to the very foot of -the cliff, and showed a disordered escarpment of drab and grayish rock, -lined here and there with banks and crevices of snow. This was perhaps a -dozen miles away, but at first no intervening atmosphere diminished in the -slightest the minutely detailed brilliancy with which these things glared -at us. They stood out clear and dazzling against a background of starry -blackness that seemed to our earthly eyes rather a gloriously spangled -velvet curtain than the spaciousness of the sky. - -The eastward cliff was at first merely a starless selvedge to the starry -dome. No rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the commencing day. -Only the Corona, the Zodiacal light, a huge cone-shaped, luminous haze, -pointing up towards the splendour of the morning star, warned us of the -imminent nearness of the sun. - -Whatever light was about us was reflected by the westward cliffs. It -showed a huge undulating plain, cold and gray, a gray that deepened -eastward into the absolute raven darkness of the cliff shadow. Innumerable -rounded gray summits, ghostly hummocks, billows of snowy substance, -stretching crest beyond crest into the remote obscurity, gave us our first -inkling of the distance of the crater wall. These hummocks looked like -snow. At the time I thought they were snow. But they were not - they were -mounds and masses of frozen air? - -So it was at first, and then, sudden, swift, and amazing, came the lunar -day. - -The sunlight had crept down the cliff, it touched the drifted masses at -its base and incontinently came striding with seven-leagued boots towards -us. The distant cliff seemed to shift and quiver, and at the touch of the -dawn a reek of gray vapour poured upward from the crater floor, whirls and -puffs and drifting wraiths of gray, thicker and broader and denser, until -at last the whole westward plain was steaming like a wet handkerchief held -before the fire, and the westward cliffs were no more than refracted glare -beyond. - -"It is air," said Cavor. "It must be air - or it - would not rise like -this - at the mere touch of a sun-beam. And at this pace. ..." - -He peered upwards. "Look! " he said. - -"What? " I asked. - -"In the sky. Already. On the blackness - a little touch of blue. See! The -stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim nebulosities we -saw in empty space - they are hidden! " - -Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. Gray summit after gray summit -was overtaken by the blaze, and turned to a smoking white intensity. At -last there was nothing to the west of us but a bank of surging fog, the -tumultuous advance and ascent of cloudy haze. The distant cliff had -receded farther and farther, had loomed and changed through the whirl, and -foundered and vanished at last in its confusion. - -Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer and nearer, coming as fast as -the shadow of a cloud before the south-west wind. About us rose a thin -anticipatory haze. - -Cavor gripped my arm. " What? " I said. - -"Look! The sunrise! The sun!" - -He turned me about and pointed to the brow of the eastward cliff, looming -above the haze about us, scarce lighter than the darkness of the sky. But -now its line was marked by strange reddish shapes, tongues of vermilion -flame that writhed and danced. I fancied It must be spirals of vapour that -had caught the light and made this crest of fiery tongues against the sky, -but indeed it was the solar prominences I Saw, a crown of fire about the -sun that is forever hidden from earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil. - -And then - the sun! - -Steadily, inevitably came a brilliant line, came a thin edge of -intolerable effulgence that took a circular shape, became a bow, became a -blazing sceptre, and hurled a shaft of heat at us as though it was a -spear. - -It seemed verily to stab my eyes! I cried aloud and turned about blinded, -groping for my blanket beneath the bale. - -And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had reached -us from without since we left the earth, a hissing and rustling, the -stormy trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing day. And with the -coming of the sound and the light the sphere lurched, and blinded and -dazzled we staggered helplessly against each other. It lurched again, and -the hissing grew louder. I had shut my eyes perforce, I was making clumsy -efforts to cover my head with my blanket, and this second lurch sent me -helplessly off my feet. I fell against the bale, and opening my eyes had a -momentary glimpse of the air just outside our glass. It was running - it -was boiling - like snow into which a white-hot rod is thrust. What had -been solid air had suddenly at the touch of the 'sun become a paste, a -mud, a slushy liquefaction, that hissed and bubbled into gas. - -There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched -one another. In another moment we were spun about again. Pound we went and -over, and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had hold of us. It meant -to show us little men what the moon could do with us. - -I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half liquid -slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We dropped into darkness. I -went down with Cavor's knees in my chest. Then he seemed to fly away from -me, and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my body staring -upward. A toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed over us, buried -us, and now it thinned and boiled off us. I saw the bubbles dancing on the -glass above. I heard Cavor exclaiming feebly. - -Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and spluttering -expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling faster and faster, -leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster and faster, westward -into the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar day. - -Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our -bale of packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We collided, we gripped, -we were torn asunder - our heads met, and the whole universe burst into -fiery darts and stars! On the earth we should have smashed one another a -dozen times, but on the moon, luckily for us, our weight was only -one-sixth of what it is terrestrially, and we fell very mercifully. I -recall a sensation of utter sickness, a feeling as if my brain were upside -down within my skull, and then - - -Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears. -Then I discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated by -blue spectacles. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, his -eyes also protected by tinted goggles. His breath came irregularly, and -his lip was bleeding from a bruise. "Better?" he said, wiping the blood -with the back of his hand. - -Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my giddiness. I -perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the outer sphere to -save me - from the direct blaze of the sun. I was aware that everything -about us was very brilliant. - -"Lord! I gasped. "But this -" - -I craned my neck to see. I perceived there was a blinding glare outside, -an utter change from the gloomy darkness of our first impressions. "Have I -been insensible long? " I asked. - -"I don't know - the chronometer is broken. Some little time. ... My dear -chap! I have been afraid..." - -I lay for a space taking this in. I saw his face still bore evidences of -emotion. For a while I said nothing. I passed an inquisitive hand over my -contusions, and surveyed ['is face for similar damages. The back of my -right hand had suffered most, and was skinless and raw. My forehead was -bruised and had bled. He handed me a little measure with some of the -restorative - I forget the name of it - he had brought with us. After a -time I felt a little better. I began to stretch my limbs carefully. Soon I -could talk. - -"It wouldn't have done," I said, as though there had been no interval. - -"No! it wouldn't." - -He thought, his hands hanging over his knees. He peered through the glass -and then stared at me. - -"Good Lord! " he said. "No!" - -"What has happened?" I asked after a pause. "Have we jumped to the -tropics? " - -"It was as I expected. This air has evaporated - if it is air. At any -rate, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are -lying on a bank of earthy rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed. A -queer sort of soil!" - -It occurred to him that it was unnecessary to explain. He assisted me into -a sitting position, and I could see with my own eyes. - - - - - -Chapter 8 - - - - -A Lunar Morning - -The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and white of scenery had altogether -disappeared. The glare of the sun had taken upon itself a faint tinge of -amber; the shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall were deeply purple. -To the eastward a dark bank of fog still crouched and sheltered from the -sunrise, but to the westward the sky was blue and clear. I began to -realise the length of my insensibility. - -We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had arisen about us. The -outline of things had gained in character, had grown acute and varied; -save for a shadowed space of white substance here and there, white -substance that was no longer air but snow, the arctic appearance had gone -altogether. Everywhere broad rusty brown spaces of bare and tumbled earth -spread to the blaze of the sun. Here and there at the edge of the -snowdrifts were transient little pools and eddies of water, the only -things stirring in that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight inundated the -upper two blinds of our sphere and turned our climate to high summer, but -our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was lying upon a drift of -snow. - -And scattered here and there upon the slope, and emphasised by little -white threads of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, were shapes like -sticks, dry twisted sticks of the same rusty hue as the rock upon which -they lay. That caught one's thoughts sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless -world? Then as my eye grew more accustomed to the texture of their -substance, I perceived that almost all this surface had a fibrous texture, -like the carpet of brown needles one finds beneath the shade of pine -trees. - -"Cavor! " I said. - -"Yes." - -"It may be a dead world now - but once -" - -Something arrested my attention. I had discovered among these needles a -number of little round objects. And it seemed to me that one of these had -moved. "Cavor," I whispered. - -"What?" - -But I did not answer at once. I stared incredulous. For an instant I -could not believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. I gripped his arm. -I pointed. "Look!" I cried, finding my tongue. "There! Yes! And there!" - -His eyes followed my pointing finger. "Eh?" he said. - -How can I describe the thing I saw? It is so petty a thing to state, and -yet it seemed so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I have said that -amidst the stick-like litter were these rounded bodies, these little oval -bodies that might have passed as very small pebbles. And now first one and -then another had stirred, had rolled over and cracked, and down the crack -of each of them showed a minute line of yellowish green, thrusting outward -to meet the hot encouragement of the newly-risen sun. For a moment that -was all, and then there stirred, and burst a third! - -"It is a seed," said Cavor. And then I heard him whisper very softly, -"Life!" - -"Life!" And immediately it poured upon us that our vast journey had not -been made in vain, that we had come to no arid waste of minerals, but to a -world that lived and moved! We watched intensely. I remember I kept -rubbing the glass before me with my sleeve, jealous of the faintest -suspicion of mist. - -The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field. All about -that centre the dead fibres and seeds were magnified and distorted b~ the -curvature of the glass. But we could see enough! One after another all -down the sunlit slope these miraculous little brown bodies burst and gaped -apart, like seed-pods, like the husks of fruits; opened eager mouths. -that drank in the heat and light pouring in a cascade from the newly-risen -sun. - -Every moment more of these seed coats ruptured, and even as they did so -the swelling pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed-cases, and -passed into the second stage of growth. With a steady assurance, a swift -deliberation, these amazing seeds thrust a rootlet downward to the earth -and a queer little bundle-like bud into the air. In a little while the -whole slope was dotted with minute plantlets standing at attention in the -blaze of the sun. - -They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled and strained and -opened with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little sharp tips, -spreading a whorl of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves, that lengthened -rapidly, lengthened visibly even as we watched. The movement was slower -than any animal's, swifter than any plant's I have ever seen before. How -can I suggest it to you - the way that growth went on? The leaf tips grew -so that they moved onward even while we looked at them. The brown -seed-case shrivelled and was absorbed with an equal rapidity. Have you -ever on a cold day taken a thermometer into your warm hand and watched the -little thread of mercury creep up the tube? These moon plants grew like -that. - -In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds of the more forward of these -plants had lengthened into a stem and were even putting forth a second -whorl of leaves, and all the slope that had seemed so recently a lifeless -stretch of litter was now dark with the stunted olive-green herbage of -bristling spikes that swayed with the vigour of their growing. - -I turned about, and behold! along the upper edge of a rock to the eastward -a similar fringe in a scarcely less forward condition swayed and bent, -dark against the blinding glare of the sun. And beyond this fringe was the -silhouette of a plant mass, branching clumsily like a cactus, and swelling -visibly, swelling like a bladder that fills with air. - -Then to the westward also I discovered that another such distended form -was rising over the scrub. But here the light fell upon its sleek sides, -and I could see that its colour was a vivid orange hue It rose as one -watched it; if one looked away from it for a minute and then back, its -outline had changed; it thrust out blunt congested branches until in a -little time it rose a coralline shape of many feet in height. Compared -with such a growth the terrestrial puff-ball, which will sometimes swell a -foot in diameter in a single night, would be a hopeless laggard. But then -the puff-ball grows against a gravitational pull six times that of the -moon. Beyond, out of gullies and flats that had been hidden from us, but -not from the quickening sun, over reefs and banks of shining rock, a -bristling beard of spiky and fleshy vegetation was straining into view, -hurrying tumultuously to tale advantage of the brief day in which it must -flower and fruit and seed again and die. It was like a miracle, that -growth. So, one must imagine, the trees and plants arose at the Creation -and covered the desolation of the new-made earth. - -Imagine it; Imagine that dawn! The resurrection of the frozen air, the -stirring and quickening of the soil, and then this silent uprising of -vegetation, this unearthly ascent of fleshiness and spikes. Conceive it -all lit by a blaze that would make the intensest sunlight of earth seem -watery and weak. And still around this stirring jungle, wherever there was -shadow, lingered banks of bluish snow. And to have the picture of our -impression complete, you must bear in mind that we saw it all through a -thick bent glass, distorting it as things are distorted by a lens, acute -only in the centre of the picture, and very bright there, and towards the -edges magnified and unreal. - - - - - -Chapter 9 - - - - -Prospecting Begins - -WE ceased to gaze. We turned to each other, the same thought, the same -question in our eyes. For these plants to grow, there must be some air, -however attenuated, air that we also should be able to breathe. - -"The manhole?" I said. - -"Yes!" said Cavor, "if it is air we see!" - -"In a little while," I said, "these plants will be as high as we are. -Suppose - suppose after all - Is it certain? How do you know that stuff -is air? It may be nitrogen - it may be carbonic acid even!" - -"That's easy," he said, and set about proving it. He produced a big piece -of crumpled paper from the bale, lit it, and thrust it hastily through the -man-hole valve. I bent forward and peered down through the thick glass for -its appearance outside, that little flame on whose evidence depended so -much! - -I saw the paper drop out and lie lightly upon the snow. The pink flame of -its burning vanished. For an instant it seemed to be extinguished. And -then I saw a little blue tongue upon the edge of it that trembled, and -crept, and spread! - -Quietly the whole sheet, save where it lay in Immediate contact with the -snow, charred and shrivelled and sent up a quivering thread of smoke. -There was no doubt left to me; the atmosphere of the moon was either pure -oxygen or air, and capable therefore - unless its tenuity was excessive - -of supporting our alien life. We might emerge - and live! - -I sat down with my legs on either side of the manhole and prepared to -unscrew it, but Cavor stopped me. "There is first a little precaution," he -said. He pointed out that although it was certainly an oxygenated -atmosphere outside, it might still be so rarefied as to cause us grave -injury. He reminded me of mountain sickness, and of the bleeding that -often afflicts aeronauts who have ascended too swiftly, and he spent some -time in the preparation of a sickly-tasting drink which he insisted on my -sharing. It made me feel a little numb, but otherwise had no effect on me. -Then he permitted me to begin unscrewing. - -Presently the glass stopper of the manhole was so far undone that the -denser air within our sphere began to escape along the thread of the -screw, singing as a kettle sings before it boils. Thereupon he made me -desist. It speedily became evident that the pressure outside was very much -less than it was within. How much less it was we had no means of telling. - -I sat grasping the stopper with both hands, ready to close it again if, in -spite of our intense hope, the lunar atmosphere should after all prove too -rarefied for us, and Cavor sat with a cylinder of compressed oxygen at -hand to restore our pressure. We looked at one another in silence, and -then at the fantastic vegetation that swayed and grew visibly and -noiselessly without. And ever that shrill piping continued. - -My blood-vessels began to throb in my ears, and the sound of Cavor's -movements diminished. I noted how still everything had become, because of -the thinning of the air. - -As our air sizzled out from the screw the moisture of it condensed in -little puffs. - -Presently I experienced a peculiar shortness of breath that lasted indeed -during the whole of the time of our exposure to the moon's exterior -atmosphere, and a rather unpleasant sensation about the ears and -finger-nails and the back of the throat grew upon my attention, and -presently passed off again. - -But then came vertigo and nausea that abruptly changed the quality of my -courage. I gave the lid of the manhole half a turn and made a hasty -explanation to Cavor; but now he was the more sanguine. He answered me in -a voice that seemed extraordinarily small and remote, because of the -thinness of the air that carried the sound. He recommended a nip of -brandy, and set me the example, and presently I felt better. I turned the -manhole stopper back again. The throbbing in my ears grew louder, and then -I remarked that the piping note of the outrush had ceased. For a time I -could not be sure that it had ceased. - -"Well?" said Cavor, in the ghost of a voice. - -"Well?" said I. - -"Shall we go on?" - -I thought. "Is this all?" - -"If you can stand it." - -By way of answer I went on unscrewing. I lifted the circular operculum -from its place and laid it carefully on the bale. A flake or so of snow -whirled and vanished as that thin and unfamiliar air took possession of -our sphere. I knelt, and then seated myself at the edge of the manhole, -peering over it. Beneath, within a yard of my face, lay the untrodden snow -of the moon. - -There came a little pause. Our eyes met. - -"It doesn't distress your lungs too much?" said Cavor. - -"No," I said. "I can stand this." - -He stretched out his hand for his blanket, thrust his head through its -central hole, and wrapped it about him. He sat down on the edge of the -manhole, he let his feet drop until they were within six inches of the -lunar ground. He hesitated for a moment, then thrust himself forward, -dropped these intervening inches, and stood upon the untrodden soil of the -moon. - -As he stepped forward lie was refracted grotesquely by the edge of the -glass. He stood for a moment looking this way and that. Then he drew -himself together and leapt. - -The glass distorted everything, but it seemed to me even then to be an -extremely big leap. He had at one bound become remote. He seemed twenty or -thirty feet off. He was standing high upon a rocky mass and gesticulating -back to me. Perhaps he was shouting - but the sound did not reach me. But -how the deuce had he done this? I felt like a man who has just seen a new -conjuring trick. - -In a puzzled state of mind I too dropped through the manhole. I stood up. -Just in front of me the snowdrift had fallen away and made a sort of -ditch. I made a step and jumped. - -I found myself flying through the air, saw the rock on which he stood -coming to meet me, clutched it and clung in a state of infinite amazement. - -I gasped a painful laugh. I was tremendously confused. Cavor bent down -arid shouted in piping tones for me to be careful. - -I had forgotten that on the moon, with only an eighth part of the earth's -mass and a quarter of its diameter, my weight was barely a sixth what it -was on earth. But now that fact insisted on being remembered. - -"We are out of Mother Earth's leading - strings now," he said. - -With a guarded effort I raised myself to the top, and moving as cautiously -as a rheumatic patient, stood up beside him under the blaze of the sun. -The sphere lay behind us on its dwindling snowdrift thirty feet away. - -As far as the eye could see over the enormous disorder of rocks that -formed the crater floor, the same bristling scrub that surrounded us was -starting into life, diversified here and there by bulging masses of a -cactus form, and scarlet and purple lichens that grew so fast they seemed -to crawl over the rocks. The whole area of the crater seemed to me then to -be one similar wilderness up to the very foot of the surrounding cliff. - -This cliff was apparently bare of vegetation save at its base, and with -buttresses and terraces and platforms that did not very greatly attract -our attention at the time. It was many miles away from us in every -direction, we seemed to be almost at the centre of the crater, and we saw -it through a certain haziness that drove before the wind. For there was -even a wind now in the thin air, a swift yet weak wind that chilled -exceedingly but exerted little pressure. It was blowing I round the -crater, as it seemed, to the hot illuminated side from the foggy darkness -under the sunward wall. It was difficult to look into this eastward fog; -we had to peer with half-closed eyes beneath the shade of our hands, -because of the fierce intensity of the motionless sun. - -"It seems to be deserted," said Cavor, "absolutely desolate." - -I looked about me again. I retained even then a clinging hope of some -quasi-human evidence, some pinnacle of building, some house or engine, but -everywhere one looked spread the tumbled rocks in peaks and crests, and -the darting scrub and those bulging cacti that swelled and swelled, a flat -negation as it seemed of all such hope. - -"It looks as though these plants had it to themselves," I said. " I see no -trace of any other creature." - -"No insects - no birds, no! Not a trace, not a scrap nor particle of -animal life. If there was - what would they do in the night? ... No; -there's just these plants alone." - -I shaded my eyes with my hand. "It's like the landscape of a dream. These -things are less like earthly land plants than the things one imagines -among the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Look at that yonder! One might -imagine it a lizard changed into a plant. And the glare! " - -"This is only the fresh morning," said Cavor. - -He sighed and looked about him. "This is no world for men," he said. "And -yet in a way - it appeals." - -He became silent for a time, then commenced his meditative humming. - -I started at a gentle touch, and found a thin sheet of livid lichen -lapping over my shoe. I kicked at it and it fell to powder, and each speck -began to grow. - -I heard Cavor exclaim sharply, and perceived that one of the fixed -bayonets of the scrub had pricked him. He hesitated, his eyes sought -among the rocks about us. A sudden blaze of pink had crept up a ragged -pillar of crag. It was a most extraordinary pink, a livid magenta. - -"Look!" said I, turning, and behold Cavor had vanished. - -For an instant I stood transfixed. Then I made a hasty step to look over -the verge of the rock. But in my surprise at his disappearance I forgot -once more that we were on the moon. The thrust of my foot that I made in -striding would have carried me a yard on earth; on the moon it carried me -six - a good five yards over the edge. For the moment the thing had -something of the effect of those nightmares when one falls and falls. For -while one falls sixteen feet in the first second of a fall on earth, on -the moon one falls two, and with only a sixth of one's weight. I fell, or -rather I jumped down, about ten yards I suppose. It seemed to take quite a -long time, five or six seconds, I should think. I floated through the air -and fell like a feather, knee-deep in a snow-drift in the bottom of a -gully of blue-gray, white-veined rock. - -I looked about me. "Cavor!" I cried; but no Cavor was visible. - -"Cavor!" I cried louder, and the rocks echoed me. - -I turned fiercely to the rocks and clambered to the summit of them. -"Cavor!" I cried. My voice sounded like the voice of a lost lamb. - -The sphere, too, was not in sight, and for a moment a horrible feeling of -desolation pinched my heart. - -Then I saw him. He was laughing and gesticulating to attract my attention. -He was on a bare patch of rock twenty or thirty yards away. I could not -hear his voice, but "jump" said his gestures. I hesitated, the distance -seemed enormous. Yet I reflected that surely I must be able to clear a -greater distance than Cavor. - -I made a step back, gathered myself together, and leapt with all my might. -I seemed to shoot right up in the air as though I should never come down. - -It was horrible and delightful, and as wild as a nightmare, to go flying -off in this fashion. I realised my leap had been altogether too violent. I -flew clean over Cavor's head and beheld a spiky confusion in a gully -spreading to meet my fall. I gave a yelp of alarm. I put out my hands and -straightened my legs. - -I hit a huge fungoid bulk that burst all about me, scattering a mass of -orange spores in every direction, and covering me with orange powder. I -rolled over spluttering, and came to rest convulsed with breathless -laughter. - -I became aware of Cavor's little round face peering over a bristling -hedge. He shouted some faded inquiry. "Eh?" I tried to shout, but could -not do so for want of breath. He made his way towards me, coming gingerly -among the bushes. - -"We've got to be careful," he said. "This moon has no discipline. She'll -let us smash ourselves." - -He helped me to my feet. "You exerted yourself too much," he said, dabbing -at the yellow stuff with his hand to remove it from my garments. - -I stood passive and panting, allowing him to beat off the jelly from my -knees and elbows and lecture me upon my misfortunes. " We don't quite -allow for the gravitation. Our muscles are scarcely educated yet. We must -practise a little, when you have got your breath." - -I pulled two or three little thorns out of my hand, and sat for a time on -a boulder of rock. My muscles were quivering, and I had that feeling of -personal disillusionment that comes at the first fall to the learner of -cycling on earth. - -It suddenly occurred to Cavor that the cold air in the gully, after the -brightness of the sun, might give me a fever. So we clambered back into -the sunlight. We found that beyond a few abrasions I had received no -serious injuries from my tumble, and at Cavor's suggestion we were -presently looking round for some safe and easy landing-place for my next -leap. We chose a rocky slab some ten yards off, separated from us by a -little thicket of olive-green spikes. - -"Imagine it there!" said Cavor, who was assuming the airs of a trainer, -and he pointed to a spot about four feet from my toes. This leap I managed -without difficulty, and I must confess I found a certain satisfaction in -Cavor's falling short by a foot or so and tasting the spikes of the scrub. -"One has to be careful you see," he said, pulling out his thorns, and with -that he ceased to be my Mentor and became my fellow-learner in the art of -lunar locomotion. - -We chose a still easier jump and did it without difficulty, and then leapt -back again, and to and fro several times, accustoming our muscles to the -new standard. I could never have believed had I not experienced it, how -rapid that adaptation would be. In a very little time indeed, certainly -after fewer than thirty leaps, we could judge the effort necessary for a -distance with almost terrestrial assurance. - -And all this time the lunar plants were growing around us, higher and -denser and more entangled, every moment thicker and taller, spiked plants, -green cactus masses, fungi, fleshy and lichenous things, strangest radiate -and sinuous shapes. But we were so intent upon our leaping, that for a -time we gave no heed to their unfaltering expansion. - -An extraordinary elation had taken possession of us. Partly, I think, it -was our sense of release from the confinement of the sphere. Mainly, -however, the thin sweetness of the air, which I am certain contained a -much larger proportion of oxygen than our terrestrial atmosphere. In spite -of the strange quality of all about us, I felt as adventurous and -experimental as a cockney would do placed for the first time among -mountains and I do not think it occurred to either of us, face to face -though we were with the unknown, to be very greatly afraid. - -We were bitten by a spirit of enterprise. We selected a lichenous kopje -perhaps fifteen yards away, and landed neatly on its summit one after the -other. "Good!" we cried to each other; "good!" and Cavor made three steps -and went off to a tempting slope of snow a good twenty yards and more -beyond. I stood for a moment struck by the grotesque effect of his -soaring figure - his dirty cricket cap, and spiky hair, his little round -body, his arms and his knicker-bockered legs tucked up tightly - against -the weird spaciousness of the lunar scene. A gust of laughter seized me, -and then I stepped off to follow. Plump! I dropped beside him. - -We made a few gargantuan strides, leapt three or four times more, and sat -down at last in a lichenous hollow. Our lungs were painful. We sat holding -our sides and recovering our breath, looking appreciation to one another. -Cavor panted something about "amazing sensations." And then came a thought -into my head. For the moment it did not seem a particularly appalling -thought, simply a natural question arising out of the situation. - -"By the way," I said, "where exactly is the sphere?" - -Cavor looked at me. "Eh?" - -The full meaning of what we were saying struck me sharply. - -"Cavor!" I cried, laying a hand on his arm, "where is the sphere?" - - - - - -Chapter 10 - - - - -Lost Men in the Moon - -HIS face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about him -at the scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward in a -passion of growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke with a -sudden lack of assurance. "I think," he said slowly, "we left it ... -somewhere ... about there." - -He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc. - -"I'm not sure." His look of consternation deepened. "Anyhow," he said, -with his eyes on me, "it can't be far." - -We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought in -the twining, thickening jungle round about us. - -All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed and swayed the darting shrubs, -the swelling cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever the shade remained -the snow-drifts lingered. North, south, east, and west spread an identical -monotony of unfamiliar forms. And somewhere, buried already among this -tangled confusion, was our sphere, our home, our only provision, our only -hope of escape from this fantastic wilderness of ephemeral growths into -which we had come. - -"I think after all," he said, pointing suddenly, "it might be over there." - -"No," I said. "We have turned in a curve. See! here is the mark of my -heels. It's clear the thing must be more to the eastward, much more. No - -the sphere must be over there." - -"I think," said Cavor, "I kept the sun upon my right all the time." - -"Every leap, it seems to me," I said, "my shadow flew before me." - -We stared into one another's eyes. The area of the crater had become -enormously vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets already -impenetrably dense. - -"Good heavens! What fools we have been!" - -"It's evident that we must find it again," said Cavor, "and that soon. The -sun grows stronger. We should be fainting with the heat already if it -wasn't so dry. And ... I'm hungry." - -I stared at him. I had not suspected this aspect of the matter before. But -it came to me at once - a positive craving. "Yes," I said with emphasis. -"I am hungry too." - -He stood up with a look of active resolution. "Certainly we must find the -sphere." - -As calmly as possible we surveyed the interminable reefs and thickets that -formed the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in silence the chances -of our finding the sphere before we were overtaken by heat and hunger. - -"It can't be fifty yards from here," said Cavor, with indecisive gestures. -"The only thing is to beat round about until we come upon it." - -"That is all we can do," I said, without any alacrity to begin our hunt. -"I wish this confounded spike bush did not grow so fast!" - -"That's just it," said Cavor. "But it was lying on a bank of snow." - -I stared about me in the vain hope of recognising some knoll or shrub that -had been near the sphere. But everywhere was a confusing sameness, -everywhere the aspiring bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling snow -banks, steadily and inevitably changed. The sun scorched and stung, the -faintness of an unaccountable hunger mingled with our infinite perplexity. -And even as we stood there, confused and lost amidst unprecedented things, -we became aware for the first time of a sound upon the moon other than the -air of the growing plants, the faint sighing of the wind, or those that we -ourselves had made. - -Boom. ... Boom. ... Boom. - -It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear it -with our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull resonance was muffled by -distance, thick with the quality of intervening substance. No sound that I -can imagine could have astonished us more, or have changed more completely -the quality of things about us. For this sound, rich, slow, and -deliberate, seemed to us as though it could be nothing but the striking of -some gigantic buried clock. - -Boom. ... Boom. ... Boom. - -Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleepless nights in crowded -cities, of vigils and the awaited hour, cf all that is orderly and -methodical in life, booming out pregnant and mysterious in this fantastic -desert! To the eye everything was unchanged: the desolation of bushes and -cacti waving silently in the wind, stretched unbroken to the distant -cliffs, the still dark sky was empty overhead, and the hot sun hung and -burned. And through it all, a warning, a threat, throbbed this enigma of -sound. - -Boom. ... Boom. ... Boom. ... - -We questioned one another in faint and faded voices. - -"A clock?" - -"Like a clock!" - -"What is it?" - -"What can it be?" - -"Count," was Cavor's belated suggestion, and at that word the striking -ceased. - -The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a fresh -shock. For a moment one could doubt whether one had ever heard a sound. Or -whether it might not still be going on. Had I indeed heard a sound? - -I felt the pressure of Cavor's hand upon my arm. He spoke in an -undertone, as though he feared to wake some sleeping thing. "Let us keep -together," he whispered, "and look for the sphere. We must get back to the -sphere. This is beyond our understanding." - -"Which way shall we go?" - -He hesitated. An intense persuasion of presences, of unseen things about -us and near us, dominated our minds. What could they be? Where could they -be? Was this arid desolation, alternately frozen and scorched, only the -outer rind and mask of some subterranean world? And if so, what sort of -world? What sort of inhabitants might it not presently disgorge upon us? - -And then, stabbing the aching stillness as vivid and sudden as an -unexpected thunderclap, came a clang and rattle as though great gates of -metal had suddenly been flung apart. - -It arrested our steps. We stood gaping helplessly. Then Cavor stole -towards me. - -"I do not understand!" he whispered close to my face. He waved his hand -vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of still vaguer thoughts. - -"A hiding-place! If anything came..." - -I looked about us. I nodded my head in assent to him. - -We started off, moving stealthily with the most exaggerated precautions -against noise. We went towards a thicket of scrub. A clangour like hammers -flung about a boiler hastened our steps. "We must crawl," whispered Cavor. - -The lower leaves of the bayonet plants, already overshadowed by the newer -ones above, were beginning to wilt and shrivel so that we could thrust our -way in among the thickening stems without serious injury. A stab in the -face or arm we did not heed. At the heart of the thicket I stopped, and -stared panting into Cavor's face. - -"Subterranean," he whispered. "Below." - -"They may come out." - -"We must find the sphere!" - -"Yes," I said; "but how?" - -"Crawl till we come to it." - -"But if we don't?" - -"Keep hidden. See what they are like." - -"We will keep together," said I. - -He thought. "Which way shall we go?" - -"We must take our chance." - -We peered this way and that. Then very circumspectly, we began to crawl -through the lower jungle, making, so far as we could judge, a circuit, -halting now at every waving fungus, at every sound, intent only on the -sphere from which we had so foolishly emerged. Ever and again from out of -the earth beneath us came concussions, beatings, strange, inexplicable, -mechanical sounds; and once, and then again, we thought we heard -something, a faint rattle and tumult, borne to us through the air. But -fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage-point to survey the crater. -For long we saw nothing of the beings whose sounds were so abundant and -insistent. But for the faintness of our hunger and the drying of our -throats that crawling would have had the quality of a very vivid dream. It -was so absolutely unreal. The only element with any touch of reality was -these sounds. - -Figure it to yourself! About us the dream-like jungle, with the silent -bayonet leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, sun-splashed -lichens under our hands and knees, waving with the vigour of their growth -as a carpet waves when the wind gets beneath it. Ever and again one of the -bladder fungi, bulging and distending under the sun, loomed upon us. Ever -and again some novel shape in vivid colour obtruded. The very cells that -built up these plants were as large as my thumb, like beads of coloured -glass. And all these things were saturated in the unmitigated glare of the -sun, were seen against a sky that was bluish black and spangled still, in -spite of the sunlight, with a few surviving stars. Strange! the very forms -and texture of the stones were strange. It was all strange, the feeling of -one's body was unprecedented, every other movement ended in a surprise. -The breath sucked thin in one's throat, the blood flowed through one's -ears in a throbbing tide - thud, thud, thud, thud.... - -And ever and again came gusts of turmoil, hammering, the clanging and -throb of machinery, and presently - the bellowing of great beasts! - - - - - -Chapter 11 - - - - -The Mooncalf Pastures - -SO we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in that wild-growing moon -jungle, crawled in terror before the sounds that had come upon us. We -crawled, as it seemed, a long time before we saw either Selenite or -mooncalf, though we heard the bellowing and gruntulous noises of these -latter continually drawing nearer to us. We crawled through stony ravines, -over snow slopes, amidst fungi that ripped like thin bladders at our -thrust, emitting a watery humour, over a perfect pavement of things like -puff-balls, and beneath interminable thickets of scrub. And ever more -helplessly our eyes sought for our abandoned sphere. The noise of the -mooncalves would at times be a vast flat calf-like sound, at times it rose -to an amazed and wrathy bellowing, and again it would become a clogged -bestial sound, as though these unseen creatures had sought to eat and -bellow at the same time. - -Our first view was but an inadequate transitory glimpse, yet none the less -disturbing because it was incomplete. Cavor was crawling in front at the -time, and he first was aware of their proximity. He stopped dead, -arresting me with a single gesture. - -A crackling and smashing of the scrub appeared to be advancing directly -upon us, and then, as we squatted close and endeavoured to judge of the -nearness and direction of this noise, there came a terrific bellow behind -us, so close and vehement that the tops of the bayonet scrub bent before -it, and one felt the breath of it hot and moist. And, turning about, we -saw indistinctly through a crowd of swaying stems the mooncalf's shining -sides, and the long line of its back loomed out against the sky. - -Of course it is hard for me now to say how much I saw at that time, -because my impressions were corrected by subsequent observation. First of -all impressions was its enormous size; the girth of its body was some -fourscore feet, its length perhaps two hundred. Its sides rose and fell -with its laboured breathing. I perceived that its gigantic, flabby body -lay along the ground, and that its skin was of a corrugated white, -dappling into blackness along the backbone. But of its feet we saw -nothing. I think also that we saw then the profile at least of the almost -brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, its slobbering omnivorous -mouth, its little nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For the mooncalf -invariably shuts its eyes in the presence of the sun.) We had a glimpse of -a vast red pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and bellow again; we had a -breath from the pit, and then the monster heeled over like a ship, dragged -forward along the ground, creasing all its leathery skin, rolled again, -and so wallowed past us, smashing a path amidst the scrub, and was -speedily hidden from our eyes by the dense interlacings beyond. Another -appeared more distantly, and then another, and then, as though he was -guiding these animated lumps of provender to their pasture, a Selenite -came momentarily into ken. My grip upon Cavor's foot became convulsive at -the sight of him, and we remained motionless and peering long after he had -passed out of our range. - -By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed a trivial being, a mere ant, -scarcely five feet high. He was, wearing garments of some leathery -substance, so that no portion of his actual body appeared, but of this, of -course, we were entirely ignorant. He presented himself, therefore, as a -compact, bristling creature, having much of the quality of a complicated -insect, with whip-like tentacles and a clanging arm projecting from his -shining cylindrical body case. The form of his head was hidden by his -enormous many-spiked helmet - we discovered afterwards that he used the -spikes for prodding refractory mooncalves - and a pair of goggles of -darkened glass, set very much at the side, gave a bird-like quality to the -metallic apparatus that covered his face. His arms did not project beyond -his body case, and he carried himself upon short legs that, wrapped though -they were in warm coverings, seemed to our terrestrial eyes inordinately -flimsy. They had very short thighs, very long shanks, and little feet. - -In spite of his heavy-looking clothing, he was progressing with what would -be, from the terrestrial point of view, very considerable strides, and his -clanging arm was busy. The quality of his motion during the instant of his -passing suggested haste and a certain anger, and soon after we had lost -sight of him we heard the bellow of a mooncalf change abruptly into a -short, sharp squeal followed by the scuffle of its acceleration. And -gradually that bellowing receded, and then came to an end, as if the -pastures sought had been attained. - -We listened. For a space the moon world was still. But it was some time -before we resumed our crawling search for the vanished sphere. - -When next we saw mooncalves they were some little distance away from us in -a place of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces of the rocks were -thick with a speckled green plant growing in dense mossy clumps, upon -which these creatures were browsing. We stopped at the edge of the reeds -amidst which we were crawling at the sight of them, peering out at then -and looking round for a second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay against -their food like stupendous slugs, huge, greasy hulls, eating greedily and -noisily, with a sort of sobbing avidity. They seemed monsters of mere -fatness, clumsy and overwhelmed to a degree that would make a Smithfield -ox seem a model of agility. Their busy, writhing, chewing mouths, and eyes -closed, together with the appetising sound of their munching, made up an -effect of animal enjoyment that was singularly stimulating to our empty -frames. - -"Hogs!" said Cavor, with unusual passion. "Dis- gusting hogs!" and after -one glare of angry envy crawled off through the bushes to our right. I -stayed long enough to see that the speckled plant was quite hopeless for -human nourishment, then crawled after him, nibbling a quill of it between -my teeth. - -Presently we were arrested again by the proximity of a Selenite, and this -time we were able to observe him more exactly. Now we could see that the -Selenite covering was indeed clothing, and not a sort of crustacean -integument. He was quite similar in his costume to the former one we had -glimpsed, except that ends of something like wadding were protruding front -his neck, and he stood on a promontory of rock and moved his head this way -and that, as though he was surveying the crater. We lay quite still, -fearing to attract his attention if we moved, and after a time he turned -about and disappeared. - -We came upon another drove of mooncalves bellowing up a ravine, and then -we passed over a place of sounds, sounds of beating machinery as if some -huge hall of industry came near the surface there. And while these sounds -were still about us we came to the edge of a great open space, perhaps two -hundred yards in diameter, and perfectly level. Save for a few lichens -that advanced from its margin this space was bare, and presented a powdery -surface of a dusty yellow colour. We were afraid to strike out across -this space, but as it presented less obstruction to our crawling than the -scrub, we went down upon it and began very circumspectly to skirt its -edge. - -For a little while the noises from below ceased and everything, save for -the faint stir of the growing vegetation, was very still. Then abruptly -there began an uproar, louder, more vehement, and nearer than any we had -so far heard. Of a certainty it came from below. Instinctively we crouched -as flat as we could, ready for a prompt plunge into the thicket beside us. -Each knock and throb seemed to vibrate through our bodies. Louder grew -this throbbing and beating, and that irregular vibration increased until -the whole moon world seemed to be jerking and pulsing. - -"Cover," whispered Cavor, and I turned towards the bushes. - -At that instant came a thud like the thud of a gun, and then a thing -happened - it still haunts me in my dreams. I had turned my head to look -at Cavor's face, and thrust out my hand in front of me as I so. And my -hand met nothing! Plunged suddenly into a bottomless hole! - -My chest hit something hard, and I found myself with my chin on the edge -of an unfathomable abyss that had suddenly opened beneath me, my hand -extended stiffly into the void. The whole of that flat circular area was -no more than a gigantic lid, that was now sliding sideways from off the -pit it had covered into a slot prepared for it. - -Had it not been for Cavor I think I should have remained rigid, hanging -over this margin and staring into the enormous gulf below, until at last -the edges of the slot scraped me off and hurled me into its depths. But -Cavor had not received the shock that had paralysed me. He had been a -little distance from the edge when the lid had first opened, and -perceiving the peril that held me helpless, gripped my legs and pulled me -backward. I came into a sitting position, crawled away from the edge for a -space on all fours, then staggered up and ran after him across the -thundering, quivering sheet of metal. It seemed to be swinging open with a -steadily accelerated velocity, and the bushes in front of me shifted -sideways as I ran. - -I was none too soon. Cavor's back vanished amidst the bristling thicket, -and as I scrambled up after him, the monstrous valve came into its -position with a clang. For a long time we lay panting, not daring to -approach the pit. - -But at last very cautiously and bit by bit we crept into a position from -which we could peer down. The bushes about us creaked and waved with the -force of a breeze that was blowing down the shaft. We could see nothing at -first except smooth vertical walls descending at last into an impenetrable -black. And then very gradually we became aware of a number of very faint -and little lights going to and fro. - -For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery held us so that we forgot even -our sphere. In time, as we grew more accustomed to the darkness, we could -make out very small, dim, elusive shapes moving about among those -needle-point illuminations. We peered amazed and incredulous, -understanding so little that we could find no words to say. We could -distinguish nothing that would give us a clue to the meaning of the faint -shapes we saw. - -"What can it be?" I asked; "what can it be?" - -"The engineering!... They must live in these caverns during the night, and -come out during the day." - -"Cavor! " I said. "Can they be - that - it was something like -, men?" - -"That was not a man." - -"We dare risk nothing" - -"We dare do nothing until we find the sphere!" - -"We can do nothing until we find the sphere." - -He assented with a groan and stirred himself to move. He stared about him -for a space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We struck out through the -jungle. For a time we crawled resolutely, then with diminishing vigour. -Presently among great shapes of flabby purple there came a noise of -trampling and cries about us. We lay close, and for a long time the sounds -went to and fro and very near. But this time we saw nothing. I tried to -whisper to Cavor that I could hardly go without food much longer, but my -mouth had become too dry for whispering. - -"Cavor," I said, "I must have food." - -He turned a face full of dismay towards me. "It's a case for holding out," -he said. - -"But I must," I said, "and look at my lips!" - -"I've been thirsty some time." - -"If only some of that snow had remained!" - -"It's clean gone! We're driving from arctic to tropical at the rate of a -degree a minute. ..." - -I gnawed my hand. - -"The sphere!" he said. "There is nothing for it but the sphere." - -We roused ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My mind ran entirely on -edible things, on the hissing profundity of summer drinks, more -particularly I craved for beer. I was haunted by the memory of a sixteen -gallon cask that had swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I thought of the -adjacent larder, and especially of steak and kidney pie - tender steak and -plenty of kidney, and rich, thick gravy between. Ever and again I was -seized with fits of hungry yawning. We came to flat places overgrown with -fleshy red things, monstrous coralline growths; as we pushed against them -they snapped and broke. I noted the quality of the broken surfaces. The -confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable texture. Then it seemed to -me that it smelt rather well. - -I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. - -"Cavor," I said in a hoarse undertone. - -He glanced at me with his face screwed up. "Don't," - -he said. I put down the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting -fleshiness for a space. - -"Cavor," I asked, "why not?" - -"Poison," I heard him say, but he did not look round. - -We crawled some way before I decided. - -"I'll chance it," said I. - -He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He -crouched watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression. -"It's good," I said. - -"O Lord!" he cried. - -He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval, -then suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge mouthfuls. -For a time we did nothing but eat. - -The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer in -texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we -experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood began -to run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then new and -slightly irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds. - -"Its good," said I. "Infernally good! What a home for our surplus -population! Our poor surplus population," and I broke off another large -portion. It filled me with a curiously benevolent satisfaction that there -was such good food in the moon. The depression of my hunger gave way to an -irrational exhilaration. The dread and discomfort in which I had been -living vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no longer as a planet from -which I most earnestly desired the means of escape, but as a possible -refuge from human destitution. I think I forgot the Selenites, the -mooncalves, the lid, and the noises completely so soon as I had eaten that -fungus. - -Cavor replied to my third repetition of my "surplus population" remark -with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put this -down to the stimulating effect cf food after a long fast. " Ess'lent -discov'ry yours, Cavor,' said I. "Se'nd on'y to the 'tato." - -"Whajer mean?" asked Cavor. "'Scovery of the moon - se'nd on'y to the -'tato? " - -I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly hoarse voice, and by the badness -of his articulation. It occurred to me in a flash that he was intoxicated, -possibly by the fungus. It also occurred to me that he erred in imaging -that he had discovered the moon; he had not discovered it, he had only -reached it. I tried to lay my hand on his arm and explain this to him, but -the issue was too subtle for his brain. It was also unexpectedly difficult -to express. After a momentary attempt to understand me - I remember -wondering if the fungus had made my eyes as fishy as his - he set off upon -some observations on his own account. - -"We are," he announced with a solemn hiccup, "the creashurs o' Mat we eat -and drink." - -He repeated this, and as I was now in one of my subtle moods, I determined -to dispute it. Possibly I wandered a little from the point. But Cavor -certainly did not attend at all properly. He stood up as well as he could, -putting a hand on my head to steady I himself, which was disrespectful, -and stood staring about him, quite devoid now of any fear of the moon -beings. - -I tried to point out that this was dangerous for some reason that was not -perfectly clear to me, but the word "dangerous" had somehow got mixed with -"indiscreet," and came out rather more like "injurious" than either; and -after an attempt to disentangle them, I resumed my argument, addressing -myself principally to the unfamiliar but attentive coralline growths on -either side. I felt that it was necessary to clear up this confusion -between the moon and a potato at once - I wandered into a long parenthesis -on the importance of precision of definition in argument. I did my best to -ignore the fact that my bodily sensations were no longer agreeable. - -In some way that I have now forgotten, my mind was led back to projects of -colonisation. "We must annex this moon," I said. " There must be no -shilly-shally. This is part of the White Man's Burthen. Cavor - we are - -hic - Satap - mean Satraps! Nempire Ceasar never dreamt. B'in all the -newspapers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. Bedfordecia - hic - Limited. Mean - -unlimited! Practically." - -Certainly I was intoxicated. - -I embarked upon an argument to show the infinite benefits our arrival -would confer on the moon. I involved myself in a rather difficult proof -that the arrival of Columbus was, on the whole, beneficial to America. I -found I had forgotten the line of argument I had intended to pursue, and -continued to repeat "Simlar to C'lumbus," to fill up time. - -From that joint my memory of the action of that abominable fungus becomes -confused. I remember vaguely that we declared our intention of standing no -nonsense from any confounded insects, that we decided it ill became men to -hide shamefully upon a mere satellite, that we equipped ourselves with -huge armfuls of the fungus - whether for missile purposes or not I do not -know - and, heedless of the stabs of the bayonet scrub, we started forth -into the sunshine. - -Almost immediately we must have come upon the Selenites. There were six of -them, and they were marching in single file over a rocky place, making the -most remarkable piping and whining sounds. They all seemed to become aware -of us at once, all instantly became silent and motionless, like animals, -with their faces turned towards us. - -For a moment I was sobered. - -"Insects," murmured Cavor, "insects! And they think I'm going to crawl -about on my stomach - on my vertebrated stomach!" - -"Stomach," he repeated slowly, as though he chewed the indignity. - -Then suddenly, with a shout of fury, he made three vast strides and leapt -towards them. He leapt badly; he made a series of somersaults in the air, -whirled right over them, and vanished with an enormous splash amidst the -cactus bladders. What the Selenites made of this amazing, and to my mind -undignified irruption from another planet, I have no means of guessing. I -seem to remember the sight of their backs as they ran in all directions, -but I am not sure. All these last incidents before oblivion came are vague -and faint in my mind. I know I made a step to follow Cavor, and tripped -and fell headlong among the rocks. I was, I am certain, suddenly and -vehemently ill. I seem to remember, a violent struggle and being gripped -by metallic clasps. ... - -My next clear recollection is that we were prisoners at we knew not what -depths beneath the moon's surface; we were in darkness amidst strange -distracting noises; our bodies were covered with scratches and bruises, -and our heads racked with pain. - - - - - -Chapter 12 - - - - -The Selenite's Face - -I FOUND myself sitting crouched together in a tumultuous darkness. For a -long time I could not understand where I was, nor how I had come to this -perplexity. I thought of the cupboard into which I had been thrust at -times when I was a child, and then of a very dark and noisy bedroom in -which I had slept during an illness. But these sounds about me were not -the noises I had known, and there was a thin flavour in the air like the -wind of a stable. Then I supposed we must still be at work upon the -sphere, and that somehow I had got into the cellar of Cavor's house. I -remembered we had finished the sphere, and fancied I must still be in it -and travelling through space. - -"Cavor," I said, "cannot we have some light?" - -There came no answer. - -"Cavor!" I insisted. - -I was answered by a groan. "My head!" I heard him say; "my head!" - -I attempted to press my hands to my brow, which ached, and discovered they -were tied together. This startled me very much. I brought them up to my -mouth and felt the cold smoothness of metal. They were chained together. I -tried to separate my legs and made out they were similarly fastened, and -also that I was fastened to the ground by a much thicker chain about the -middle of my body. - -I was more frightened that I had yet been by anything in all our strange -experiences. For a time I tugged silently at my bonds. " Cavor! " I cried -out sharply. "Why am I tied? Why have you tied me hand and foot? " - -"I haven't tied you," he answered. "It's the Selenites." - -The Selenites! My mind hung on that for a space. Then my memories came -back to me: the snowy desolation, the thawing of the air, the growth of" -the plants, our strange hopping and crawling among the rocks and -vegetation of the crater. All the distress of our frantic search for the -sphere returned to me. ... Finally the opening of the great lid that -covered the pit! - -Then as I strained to trace our later movements down to our present -plight, the pain in my head became intolerable. I came to an -insurmountable barrier, an obstinate blank. - -"Cavor!" - -"Yes?" - -"Where are we? - -"How should I know?" - -"Are we dead?" - -"What nonsense!" - -"They've got us, then!" - -He made no answer but a grunt. The lingering traces of the poison seemed -to make him oddly irritable. - -"What do you mean to do?" - -"How should I know what to do?" - -"Oh, very well!" said I, and became silent. Presently, I was roused from -a stupor. "O Lord!" I cried; "I wish you'd stop that buzzing!" - -We lapsed into silence again, listening to the dull confusion of noises -like the muffled sounds of a street or factory that filled our ears. I -could make nothing of it, my mind pursued first one rhythm and then -another, and questioned it in vain. But after a long time I became aware -of a new and sharper element, not mingling with the rest but standing out, -as it were, against that cloudy background of sound. It was a series of -relatively very little definite sounds, tappings and rubbings, like a -loose spray of ivy against a window or a bird moving about upon a box. We -listened and peered about us, but the darkness was a velvet pall. There -followed a noise like the subtle movement of the wards of a well-oiled -lock. And then there appeared before me, hanging as it seemed in an -immensity of black, a thin bright line. - -"Look!" whispered Cavor very softly. - -"What is it?" - -"I don't know." - -We stared. - -The thin bright line became a band, and broader and paler. It took upon -itself the quality of a bluish light falling upon a white-washed wall. It -ceased to be parallel-sided; it developed a deep indentation on one side. -I turned to remark this to Cavor, and was amazed to see his ear in a -brilliant illumination - all the rest of him in shadow. I twisted my head -round as well as my bonds would permit. "Cavor," I said, "it's behind!" - -His ear vanished - gave place to an eye! - -Suddenly the crack that had been admitting the light broadened out, and -revealed itself as the space of an opening door. Beyond was a sapphire -vista, and in the doorway stood a grotesque outline silhouetted against -the glare. - -We both made convulsive efforts to turn, and failing, sat staring over our -shoulders at this. My first impression was of some clumsy quadruped with -lowered head. Then I perceived it was the slender pinched body and short -and extremely attenuated bandy legs of a Selenite, with his head depressed -between his shoulders. He was without the helmet and body covering they -wear upon the exterior. - -He was a blank, black figure to us, but instictively our imaginations -supplied features to his very human outline. I, at least, took it -instantly that he was somewhat hunchbacked, with a high forehead and long -features. - -He came forward three steps and paused for a time. His movements seemed -absolutely noiseless. Then he came forward again. He walked like a bird, -his feet fell one in front of the other. He stepped out of the ray of -light that came through the doorway, and it seemed as though he vanished -altogether in the shadow. - -For a moment my eyes sought him in the wrong place, and then I perceived -him standing facing us both in the full light. Only the human features I -had attributed to him were not there at all! - -Of course I ought to have expected that, only I didn't. It came to me as -an absolute, for a moment an overwhelming shock. It seemed as though it -wasn't a face, as though it must needs be a mask, a horror, a deformity, -that would presently be disavowed or explained. There was no nose, and the -thing had dull bulging eyes at the side - in the silhouette I had supposed -they were ears. There were no ears. ... I have tried to draw one of these -heads, but I cannot. There was a mouth, downwardly curved, like a human -mouth in a face that stares ferociously. ... - -The neck on which the head was poised was jointed in three places, almost -like the short joints in the leg of a crab. The joints of the limbs I -could not see, because of the puttee-like straps in which they were -swathed, and which formed the only clothing the being wore. - -There the thing was, looking at us! - -At the time my mind was taken up by the mad impossibility of the creature. -I suppose he also was amazed, and with more reason, perhaps, for amazement -than we. Only, confound him! he did not show it. We did at least know what -had brought about this meeting of incompatible creatures. But conceive how -it would seem to decent Londoners, for example, to come upon a couple of -living things, as big as men and absolutely unlike any other earthly -animals, careering about among the sheep in Hyde Park! It must have taken -him like that. - -Figure us! We were bound hand and foot, fagged and filthy; our beards two -inches long, our faces scratched and bloody. Cavor you must imagine in his -knickerbockers (torn in several places by the bayonet scrub) his Jaegar -shirt and old cricket cap, his wiry hair wildly disordered, a tail to -every quarter of the heavens. In that blue light his face did not look red -but very dark, his lips and the drying blood upon my hands seemed black. -If possible I was in a worse plight than he, on account of the yellow -fungus into which I had jumped. Our jackets were unbuttoned, and our shoes -had been taken off and lay at our feet. And we were sitting with our backs -to this queer bluish light, peering at such a monster as Durer might have -invented. - -Cavor broke the silence; started to speak, went hoarse, and cleared his -throat. Outside began a terrific bellowing, as if a mooncalf were in -trouble. It ended in a shriek, and everything was still again. - -Presently the Selenite turned about, flickered into the shadow, stood for -a moment retrospective at the door, and then closed it on us; and once -more we were in that murmurous mystery of darkness into which we had -awakened. - - - - - -Chapter 13 - - - - -Mr. Cavor Makes Some Sugestions - -FOR a time neither of us spoke. To focus together all the things we had -brought upon ourselves, seemed beyond my mental powers. - -"They've got us," I said at last. - -"It was that fungus." - -"Well - if I hadn't taken it we should have fainted and starved." - -"We might have found the sphere." - -I lost my temper at his persistence, and swore to myself. For a time we -hated one another in silence. I drummed with my fingers on the floor -between my knees, and gritted the links of my fetters together. Presently -I was forced to talk again. - -"What do you make of it, anyhow?" I asked humbly. - -"They are reasonable creatures - they can make things and do things. -Those lights we saw..." - -He stopped. It was clear he could make nothing of it. - -When he spoke again it was to confess, "After all, they are more human -than we had a right to expect. I suppose -" - -He stopped irritatingly. - -"Yes?" - -"I suppose, anyhow - on any planet where there is an intelligent animal - -it will carry its brain case upward, and have hands, and walk erect." - -Presently he broke away in another direction. - -"We are some way in," he said. "I mean - perhaps a couple of thousand feet -or more." - -"Why?" - -"It's cooler. And our voices are so much louder. That faded quality - it -has altogether gone. And the feeling in one's ears and throat." - -I had not noted that, but I did now. - -"The air is denser. We must be some depths - a mile even, we may be - -inside the moon." - -"We never thought of a world inside the moon." - -"No." - -"How could we?" - -"We might have done. Only one gets into habits of mind." - -He thought for a time. - -"Now," he said, "it seems such an obvious thing." - -"Of course! The moon must be enormously cavernous, with an atmosphere -within, and at the centre of its caverns a sea. - -"One knew that the moon had a lower specific gravity than the earth, one -knew that it had little air or water outside, one knew, too, that it was -sister planet to the earth, and that it was unaccountable that it should -be different in composition. The inference that it was hollowed out was as -clear as day. And yet one never saw it as a fact. Kepler, of course -" - -His voice had the interest now of a man who has discerned a pretty -sequence of reasoning. - -"Yes," he said, "Kepler with his sub-volvani was right after all." - -"I wish you had taken the trouble to find that out before we came," I -said. - -He answered nothing, buzzing to himself softly, as he pursued his -thoughts. My temper was going. - -"What do you think has become of the sphere, anyhow? " I asked. - -"Lost," he said, like a man who answers an uninteresting question. - -"Among those plants?" - -"Unless they find it." - -"And then?" - -"How can I tell?" - -"Cavor," I said, with a sort of hysterical bitterness, "things look bright -for my Company..." - -He made no answer. - -"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "Just think of all the trouble we took to get -into this pickle! What did we come for? What are we after? What was the -moon to us or we to the moon? We wanted too much, we tried too much. We -ought to have started the little things first. It was you proposed the -moon! Those Cavorite spring blinds! I am certain we could have worked them -for terrestrial purposes. Certain! Did you really understand what I -proposed? A steel cylinder - " - -"Rubbish!" said Cavor. - -We ceased to converse. - -For a time Cavor kept up a broken monologue without much help from me. - -"If they find it," he began, "if they find it ... what will they do with -it? Well, that's a question. It may be that's the question. They won't -understand it, anyhow. If they understood that sort of thing they would -have come long since to the earth. Would they? Why shouldn't they? But -they would have sent something - they couldn't keep their hands off such a -possibility. No! But they will examine it. Clearly they are intelligent -and inquisitive. They will examine it - get inside it - trifle with the -studs. Off! .. That would mean the moon for us for all the rest of our -lives. Strange creatures, strange knowledge ..." - -"As for strange knowledge - " said I, and language failed me. - -"Look here, Bedford," said Cavor, "you came on this expedition of your own -free will." - -"You said to me, 'Call it prospecting'." - -"There's always risks in prospecting." - -"Especially when you do it unarmed and without thinking out every -possibility." - -"I was so taken up with the sphere. The thing rushed on us, and carried us -away." - -"Rushed on me, you mean." - -"Rushed on me just as much. How was I to know when I set to work on -molecular physics that the business would bring me here - of all places?" - -"It's this accursed science," I cried. "It's the very Devil. The medieval -priests and persecutors were right and the Moderns are all wrong. You -tamper with it - and it offers you gifts. And directly you take them it -knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way. Old passions and new weapons -- now it upsets your religion, now it upsets your social ideas, now it -whirls you off to desolation and misery!" - -"Anyhow, it's no use your quarrelling with me now. These creatures - -these Selenites, or whatever we choose to call them - have got us tied -hand and foot. Whatever temper you choose to go through with it in, you -will have to go through with it. ... We have experiences before us that -will need all our coolness." - -He paused as if he required my assent. But I sat sulking. "Confound your -science!" I said. - -"The problem is communication. Gestures, I fear, will be different. -Pointing, for example. No creatures but men and monkeys point." - -That was too obviously wrong for me. "Pretty nearly every animal," I -cried, "points with its eyes or nose." - -Cavor meditated over that. "Yes," he said at last, "and we don't. There's -such differences - such differences!" - -"One might. ... But how can I tell? There is speech. The sounds they make, -a sort of fluting and piping. I don't see how we are to imitate that. Is -it their speech, that sort of thing? They may have different senses, -different means of communication. Of course they are minds and we are -minds; there must be something in common. Who knows how far we may not get -to an understanding?" - -"The things are outside us," I said. "They're more different from us than -the strangest animals on earth. They are a different clay. What is the -good of talking like this?" - -Cavor thought. "I don't see that. Where there are minds they will have -something similar - even though they have been evolved on different -planets. Of course if it was a question of instincts, if we or they are -no more than animals " - -"Well, are they? They're much more like ants on their hind legs than human -beings, and who ever got to any sort of understanding with ants?" - -"But these machines and clothing! No, I don't hold with you, Bedford. The -difference is wide - " - -"It's insurmountable." - -"The resemblance must bridge it. I remember reading once a paper by the -late Professor Galton on the possibility of communication between the -planets. Unhappily, at that time it did not seem probable that that would -be of any material benefit to me, and I fear I did not give it the -attention I should have done - in view of this state of affairs. Yet. ... -Now, let me see! - -"His idea was to begin with those broad truths that must underlie all -conceivable mental existences and establish a basis on those. The great -principles of geometry, to begin with. He proposed to take some leading -proposition of Euclid's, and show by construction that its truth was known -to us, to demonstrate, for example, that the angles at the base of an -isosceles triangle are equal, and that if the equal sides be produced the -angles on the other side of the base are equal also, or that the square on -the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the -squares on the two other sides. By demonstrating our knowledge of these -things we should demonstrate our possession of a reasonable -intelligence... Now, suppose I ... I might draw the geometrical figure -with a wet finger, or even trace it in the air ..." - -He fell silent. I sat meditating his words. For a time his wild hope of -communication, of interpretation, with these weird beings held me. Then -that angry despair that was a part of my exhaustion and physical misery -resumed its sway. I perceived with a sudden novel vividness the -extraordinary folly of everything I had ever done. "Ass!" I said; "oh, -ass, unutterable ass. ... I seem to exist only to go about doing -preposterous things. Why did we ever leave the thing? ... Hopping about -looking for patents and concessions in the craters of the moon!... If only -we had had the sense to fasten a handkerchief to a stick to show where we -had left the sphere! - -I subsided, fuming. - -"It is clear," meditated Cavor, "they are intelligent. One can -hypotheticate certain things. As they have not killed us at once, they -must have ideas of mercy. Mercy! at any rate of restraint. Possibly of -intercourse. They may meet us. And this apartment and the glimpses we had -of its guardian. These fetters! A high degree of intelligence..." - -"I wish to heaven," cried I, "I'd thought even twice! Plunge after plunge. -First one fluky start and then another. It was my confidence in you! Why -didn't I stick to my play? That was what I was equal to. That was my world -and the life I was made for. I could have finished that play. I'm certain -... it was a good play. I had the scenario as good as done. Then. ... -Conceive it! leaping to the moon! Practically I've thrown my life away! -That old woman in the inn near Canterbury had better sense." - -I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. The darkness had given place to -that bluish light again. The door was opening, and several noiseless -Selenites were coming into the chamber. I became quite still, staring at -their grotesque faces. - -Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable strangeness changed to interest. I -perceived that the foremost and second carried bowls. One elemental need -at least our minds could understand in common. They were bowls of some -metal that, like our fetters, looked dark in that bluish light; and each -contained a number of whitish fragments. All the cloudy pain and misery -that oppressed me rushed together and took the shape of hunger. I eyed -these bowls wolfishly, and, though it returned to me in dreams, at that -time it seemed a small matter that at the end of the arms that lowered one -towards me were not hands, but a sort of flap and thumb, like the end of -an elephant's trunk. The stuff in the bowl was loose in texture, and -whitish brown in colour - rather like lumps of some cold souffle, and it -smelt faintly like mushrooms. From a partially divided carcass of a -mooncalf that we presently saw, I am inclined to believe it must have been -mooncalf flesh. - -My hands were so tightly chained that I could barely contrive to reach the -bowl; but when they saw the effort I made, two of them dexterously -released one of the turns about my wrist. Their tentacle hands were soft -and cold to my skin. I immediately seized a mouthful of the food. It had -the same laxness in texture that all organic structures seem to have upon -the moon; it tasted rather like a gauffre or a damp meringue, but in no -way was it disagreeable. I took two other mouthfuls. "I wanted - foo'! " -said I, tearing off a still larger piece. ... - -For a time we ate with an utter absence of selfconsciousness. We ate and -presently drank like tramps in a soup kitchen. Never before nor since have -I been hungry to the ravenous pitch, and save that I have had this very -experience I could never have believed that, a quarter of a million of -miles out of our proper world, in utter perplexity of soul, surrounded, -watched, touched by beings more grotesque and inhuman than the worst -creations of a nightmare, it would be possible for me to eat in utter -forgetfulness of all these things. They stood about us watching us, and -ever and again making a slight elusive twittering that stood the suppose, -in the stead of speech. I did not even shiver at their touch. And when the -first zeal of my feeding was over, I could note that Cavor, too, had been -eating with the same shameless abandon. - - - - - -Chapter 14 - - - - -Experiments in intercourse - -WHEN at last we had made an end of eating, the Selenites linked our hands -closely together again, and then untwisted the chains about our feet and -rebound them, so as to give us a limited freedom of movement. Then they -unfastened the chains about our waists. To do all this they had to handle -us freely, and ever and again one of their queer heads came down close to -my face, or a soft tentacle-hand touched my head or neck. I don't remember -that I was afraid then or repelled by their proximity. I think that our -incurable anthropomorphism made us imagine there were human heads inside -their masks. The skin, like everything else, looked bluish, but that was -on account of the light; and it was hard and shiny, quite in the -beetle-wing fashion, not soft, or moist, or hairy, as a vertebrated -animal's would be. Along the crest of the head was a low ridge of whitish -spines running from back to front, and a much larger ridge curved on -either side over the eyes. The Selenite who untied me used his mouth to -help his hands. - -"They seem to be releasing us," said Cavor. "Remember we are on the moon! -Make no sudden movements!" - -"Are you going to try that geometry?" - -"If I get a chance. But, of course, they may make an advance first." - -We remained passive, and the Selenites, having finished their -arrangements, stood back from us, and seemed to be looking at us. I say -seemed to be, because as their eyes were at the side and not in front, one -had the same difficulty in determining the direction in which they were -looking as one has in the case of a hen or a fish. They conversed with one -another in their reedy tones, that seemed to me impossible to imitate or -define. The door behind us opened wider, and, glancing over my shoulder, I -saw a vague large space beyond, in which quite a little crowd of Selenites -were standing. They seemed a curiously miscellaneous rabble. - -"Do they want us to imitate those sounds? " I asked Cavor. - -"I don't think so," he said. - -"It seems to me that they are trying to make us understand something." - -"I can't make anything of their gestures. Do you notice this one, who is -worrying with his head like a man with an uncomfortable collar? " - -"Let us shake our heads at him." - -We did that, and finding it ineffectual, attempted an imitation of the -Selenites' movements. That seemed to interest them. At any rate they all -set up the same movement. But as that seemed to lead to nothing, we -desisted at last and so did they, and fell into a piping argument among -themselves. Then one of them, shorter and very much thicker than the -others, and with a particularly wide mouth, squatted down suddenly beside -Cavor, and put his hands and feet in the same posture as Cavor's were -bound, and then by a dexterous movement stood up. - -"Cavor," I shouted, "they want us to get up!" - -He stared open-mouthed. "That's it!" he said. - -And with much heaving and grunting, because our hands were tied together, -we contrived to struggle to our feet. The Selenites made way for our -elephantine heavings, and seemed to twitter more volubly. As soon as we -were on our feet the thick-set Selenite came and patted each of our faces -with his tentacles, and walked towards the open doorway. That also was -plain enough, and we followed him. We saw that four of the Selenites -standing in the doorway were much taller than the others, and clothed in -the same manner as those we had seen in the crater, namely, with spiked -round helmets and cylindrical body-cases, and that each of the four -carried a goad with spike and guard made of that same dull-looking metal -as the bowls. These four closed about us, one on either side of each of -us, as we emerged from our chamber into the cavern from which the light -had come. - -We did not get our impression of that cavern all at once. Our attention -was taken up by the movements and attitudes of the Selenites immediately -about us, and by the necessity of controlling our motion, lest we should -startle and alarm them and ourselves by some excessive stride. In front of -us was the short, thick-set being who had solved the problem of asking us -to get up, moving with gestures that seemed, almost all of them, -intelligible to us, inviting us to follow him. His spout-like face turned -from one of us to the other with a quickness that was clearly -interrogative. For a time, I say, we were taken up with these things. - -But at last the great place that formed a background to our movements -asserted itself. It became apparent that the source of much, at least, of -the tumult of sounds which had filled our ears ever since we had recovered -from the stupefaction of the fungus was a vast mass of machinery in active -movement, whose flying and whirling parts were visible indistinctly over -the heads and between the bodies of the Selenites who walked about us. And -not only did the web of sounds that filled the air proceed from this -mechanism, but also the peculiar blue light that irradiated the whole -place. We had taken it as a natural thing that a subterranean cavern -should be artificially lit, and even now, though the fact was patent to my -eyes, I did not really grasp its import until presently the darkness came. -The meaning and structure of this huge apparatus we saw I cannot explain, -because we neither of us learnt what it was for or how it worked. One -after another, big shafts of metal flung out and up from its centre, their -heads travelling in what seemed to me to be a parabolic path; each dropped -a sort of dangling arm as it rose towards the apex of its flight and -plunged down into a vertical cylinder, forcing this down before it. About -it moved the shapes of tenders, little figures that seemed vaguely -different from the beings about us. As each of the three dangling arms of -the machine plunged down, there was a clank and then a roaring, and out of -the top of the vertical cylinder came pouring this incandescent substance -that lit the place, and ran over as milk runs over a boiling pot, and -dripped luminously into a tank of light below. It was a cold blue light, a -sort of phosphorescent glow but infinitely brighter, and from the tanks -into which it fell it ran in conduits athwart the cavern. - -Thud, thud, thud, thud, came the sweeping arms of this unintelligible -apparatus, and the light substance hissed and poured. At first the thing -seemed only reasonably large and near to us, and then I saw how -exceedingly little the Selenites upon it seemed, and I realised the full -immensity of cavern and machine. I looked from this tremendous affair to -the faces of the Selenites with a new respect. I stopped, and Cavor -stopped, and stared at this thunderous engine. - -"But this is stupendous!" I said. "What can it be for?" - -Cavor's blue-lit face was full of an intelligent respect. "I can't dream! -Surely these beings - Men could not make a thing like that! Look at those -arms, are they on connecting rods?" - -The thick-set Selenite had gone some paces unheeded. He came back and -stood between us and the great machine. I avoided seeing him, because I -guessed somehow that his idea was to beckon us onward. He walked away in -the direction he wished us to go, and turned and came back, and flicked -our faces to attract our attention. - -Cavor and I looked at one another. - -"Cannot we show him we are interested in the machine? " I said. - -"Yes," said Cavor. " We'll try that." He turned to our guide and smiled, -and pointed to the machine, and pointed again, and then to his head, and -then to the machine. By some defect of reasoning he seemed to imagine that -broken English might help these gestures. "Me look 'im," he said, "me -think 'im very much. Yes." - -His behaviour seemed to check the Selenites in their desire for our -progress for a moment. They faced one another, their queer heads moved, -the twittering voices came quick and liquid. Then one of them, a lean, -tall creature, with a sort of mantle added to the puttee in which the -others were dressed, twisted his elephant trunk of a hand about Cavor's -waist, and pulled him gently to follow our guide, who again went on ahead. -Cavor resisted. "We may just as well begin explaining ourselves now. They -may think we are new animals, a new sort of mooncalf perhaps! It is most -important that we should show an intelligent interest from the outset." - -He began to shake his head violently. "No, no," he said, "me not come on -one minute. Me look at 'im." - -" Isn't there some geometrical point you might bring in apropos of that -affair? " I suggested, as the Selenites conferred again. - -"Possibly a parabolic -" be began. - -He yelled loudly, and leaped six feet or more! - -One of the four armed moon-men had pricked him with a goad! - -I turned on the goad-bearer behind me with a swift threatening gesture, -and he started back. This and Cavor's sudden shout and leap clearly -astonished all the Selenites. They receded hastily, facing us. For one of -those moments that seem to last for ever, we stood in angry protest, with -a scattered semicircle of these inhuman beings about us. - -"He pricked me!" said Cavor, with a catching of the voice. - -"I saw him," I answered. - -"Confound it!" I said to the Selenites; "We're not going to stand that! -What on earth do you take us for?" - -I glanced quickly right and left. Far away across the blue wilderness of -cavern I saw a number of other Selenites running towards us; broad and -slender they were, and one with a larger head than the others. The cavern -spread wide and low, and receded in every direction into darkness. Its -roof, I remember, seemed to bulge down as if with the weight of the vast -thickness of rocks that prisoned us. There was no way out of it - no way -out of it. Above, below, in every direction, was the unknown, and these -inhuman creatures, with goads and gestures, confronting us, and we two -unsupported men! - - - - - -Chapter 15 - - - - - -The Giddy Bridge - -JUST for a moment that hostile pause endured. I suppose that both we and -the Selenites did some very rapid thinking. My clearest impression was -that there was nothing to put my back against, and that we were bound to -be surrounded and killed. The overwhelming folly of our presence there -loomed over me in black, enormous reproach. Why had I ever launched my -self on this mad, inhuman expedition? - -Cavor came to my side and laid his hand on my arm. His pale and terrified -face was ghastly in the blue light. - -"We can't do anything," he said. "It's a mistake. They don't understand. -We must go. As they want us to go." - -I looked down at him, and then at the fresh Selenites who were coming to -help their fellows. "If I had my hands free - " - -"It's no use," he panted. - -"No." - -"We'll go." - -And he turned about and led the way in the direction that had been -indicated for us. - -I followed, trying to look as subdued as possible, and feeling at the -chains about my wrists. My blood was boiling. I noted nothing more of that -cavern, though it seemed to take a long time before we had marched across -it, or if I noted anything I forgot it as I saw it. My thoughts were -concentrated, I think, upon my chains and the Selenites, and particularly -upon the helmeted ones with the goads. At first they marched parallel with -us, and at a respectful distance, but presently they were overtaken by -three others, and then they drew nearer, until they were within arms -length again. I winced like a beaten horse as they came near to us. The -shorter, thicker Selenite marched at first on our right flank, but -presently came in front of us again. - -How well the picture of that grouping has bitten into my brain; the back -of Cavor's downcast head just in front of me, and the dejected droop of -his shoulders, and our guide's gaping visage, perpetually jerking about -him, and the goad-bearers on either side, watchful, yet open-mouthed - a -blue monochrome. And after all, I do remember one other thing besides the -purely personal affair, which is, that a sort of gutter came presently -across the floor of the cavern, and then ran along by the side of the path -of rock we followed. And it was full of that same bright blue luminous -stuff that flowed out of the great machine. I walked close beside it, and -I can testify it radiated not a particle of heat. It was brightly shining, -and yet it was neither warmer nor colder than anything else in the cavern. - -Clang, clang, clang, we passed right under the thumping levers of another -vast machine, and so came at last to a wide tunnel, in which we could even -hear the pad, pad, of our shoeless feet, and which, save for the trickling -thread of blue to the right of us, was quite unlit. The shadows made -gigantic travesties of our shapes and those of the Selenites on the -irregular wall and roof of the tunnel. Ever and again crystals in the -walls of the tunnel scintillated like gems, ever and again the tunnel -expanded into a stalactitic cavern, or gave off branches that vanished -into darkness. - -We seemed to be marching down that tunnel for a long time. "Trickle, -trickle," went the flowing light very softly, and our footfalls and their -echoes made an irregular paddle, paddle. My mind settled down to the -question of my chains. If I were to slip off one turn so, and then to -twist it so ... - -If I tried to do it very gradually, would they see I was slipping my wrist -out of the looser turn? If they did, what would they do? - -"Bedford," said Cavor, "it goes down. It keeps on going down." - -His remark roused me from my sullen pre-occupation. - -"If they wanted to kill us," he said, dropping back to come level with me, -" there is no reason why they should not have done it." - -"No," I admitted, "that's true." - -"They don't understand us," he said, " they think we are merely strange -animals, some wild sort of mooncalf birth, perhaps. It will be only when -they have observed us better that they will begin to think we have minds" - -"When you trace those geometrical problems," said I. - -"It may be that." - -We tramped on for a space. - -"You see," said Cavor, "these may be Selenites of a lower class." - -"The infernal fools!" said I viciously, glancing at their exasperating -faces. - -"If we endure what they do to us" - -"We've got to endure it," said I. - -"There may be others less stupid. This is the mere outer fringe of their -world. It must go down and down, cavern, passage, tunnel, down at last to -the sea - hundreds of miles below." - -His words made me think of the mile or so of rock and tunnel that might be -over our heads already. It was like a weight dropping, on my shoulders. -"Away from the sun and air," I said. "Even a mine half a mile deep is -stuffy." remarked. - -"This is not, anyhow. It's probable - Ventilation! The air would blow -from the dark side of the moon to the sunlit, and all the carbonic acid -would well out there and feed those plants. Up this tunnel, for example, -there is quite a breeze. And what a world it must be. The earnest we have -in that shaft, and those machines" - -"And the goad," I said. "Don't forget the goad!" - -He walked a little in front of me for a time. - -"Even that goad - " he said. - -"Well?" - -"I was angry at the time. But it was perhaps necessary we should get on. -They have different skins, and probably different nerves. They may not -understand our objection - Just as a being from Mars might not like our -earthly habit of nudging" - -"They'd better be careful how they nudge me." - -"And about that geometry. After all, their way is a way of understanding, -too. They begin with the elements of life and not of thought. Food. -Compulsion. Pain. They strike at fundamentals." - -"There's no doubt about that," I said. - -He went on to talk of the enormous and wonderful world into which we were -being taken. I realised slowly from his tone, that even now he was not -absolutely in despair at the prospect of going ever deeper into this -inhuman planet-burrow. His mind ran on machines and invention, to the -exclusion of a thousand dark things that beset me. It wasn't that he -intended to make any use of these things, he simply wanted to know them. - -"After all," he said, " this is a tremendous occasion. It is the meeting -of two worlds! What are we going to see? Think of what is below us here." - -"We shan't see much if the light isn't better," I remarked. - -"This is only the outer crust. Down below - On this scale - There will be -everything. Do you notice how different they seem one from another? The -story we shall take back!" - - -"Some rare sort of animal," I said, "might comfort himself in that way -while they were bringing him to the Zoo. ... It doesn't follow that we are -going to be shown all these things." - -"When they find we have reasonable minds," said Cavor, "they will want to -learn about the earth. Even if they have no generous emotions, they will -teach in order to learn. ... And the things they must know! The -unanticipated things!" - -He went on to speculate on the possibility of their knowing things he had -never hoped to learn on earth, speculating in that way, with a raw wound -from that goad already in his skin! Much that he said I forget, for my -attention was drawn to the fact that the tunnel along which we had been -marching was opening out wider and wider. We seemed, from the feeling of -the air, to be going out into a huge space. But how big the space might -really be we could not tell, because it was unlit. Our little stream of -light ran in a dwindling thread and vanished far ahead. Presently the -rocky walls had vanished altogether on either hand. There was nothing to -be seen but the path in front of us and the trickling hurrying rivulet of -blue phosphorescence. The figures of Cavor and the guiding Selenite -marched before me, the sides of their legs and heads that were towards the -rivulet were clear and bright blue, their darkened sides, now that the -reflection of the tunnel wall no longer lit them, merged indistinguishably -in the darkness beyond. - -And soon I perceived that we were approaching a declivity of some sort, -because the little blue stream dipped suddenly out of sight. - -In another moment, as it seemed, we had reached the edge. The shining -stream gave one meander of hesitation and then rushed over. It fell to a -depth at which the sound of its descent was absolutely lost to us. Far -below was a bluish glow, a sort of blue mist - at an infinite distance -below. And the darkness the stream dropped out of became utterly void and -black, save that a thing like a plank projected from the edge of the cliff -and stretched out and faded and vanished altogether. There was a warm air -blowing up out of the gulf. - -For a moment I and Cavor stood as near the edge as we dared, peering into -a blue-tinged profundity. And then our guide was pulling at my arm. - -Then he left me, and walked to the end of that plank and stepped upon it, -looking back. Then when he perceived we watched him, he turned about and -went on along it, walking as surely as though he was on firm earth. For a -moment his form was distinct, then he became a blue blur, and then -vanished into the obscurity. I became aware of some vague shape looming -darkly out of the black. - -There was a pause. "Surely! -" said Cavor. - -One of the other Selenites walked a few paces out upon the plank, and -turned and looked back at us unconcernedly. The others stood ready to -follow after us. Our guide's expectant figure reappeared. He was returning -to see why we had not advanced. - -"What is that beyond there?" I asked. - -"I can't see." - -"We can't cross this at any price," said I. - -"I could not go three steps on it," said Cavor, "even with my hands free." - -We looked at each other's drawn faces in blank consternation. - -"They can't know what it is to be giddy!" said Cavor. - -"It's quite impossible for us to walk that plank." - -"I don't believe they see as we do. I've been watching them. I wonder if -they know this is simply blackness for us. How can we make them -understand?" - -"Anyhow, we must make them understand." - -I think we said these things with a vague half hope the Selenites might -somehow understand. I knew quite clearly that all that was needed was an -explanation. Then as I saw their faces, I realised that an explanation was -impossible. Just here it was that our resemblances were not going to -bridge our differences. Well, I wasn't going to walk the plank, anyhow. I -slipped my wrist very quickly out of the coil of chain that was loose, and -then began to twist my wrists in opposite directions. I was standing -nearest to the bridge, and as I did this two of the Selenites laid hold of -me, and pulled me gently towards it. - -I shook my head violently. "No go," I said, "no use. You don't -understand." - -Another Selenite added his compulsion. I was forced to step forward. - -"I've got an idea," said Cavor; but I knew his ideas. - -"Look here!" I exclaimed to the Selenites. "Steady on! It's all very well -for you - " - -I sprang round upon my heel. I burst out into curses. For one of the armed -Selenites had stabbed me behind with his goad. - -I wrenched my wrists free from the little tentacles that held them. I -turned on the goad-bearer. "Confound you! " I cried. "I've warned you of -that. What on earth do you think I'm made of, to stick that into me? If -you touch me again - " - -By way of answer he pricked me forthwith. - -I heard Cavor's voice in alarm and entreaty. Even then I think he wanted -to compromise with these creatures. "I say, Bedford," he cried, "I know a -way! " But the sting of that second stab seemed to set free some pent-up -reserve of energy in my being. Instantly the link of the wrist-chain -snapped, and with it snapped all considerations that had held us -unresisting in the hands of these moon creatures. For that second, at -least, I was mad with fear and anger. I took no thought of consequences. -I hit straight out at the face of the thing with the goad. The chain was -twisted round my fist. - -There came another of these beastly surprises of which the moon world is -full. - -My mailed hand seemed to go clean through him. He smashed like - like -some softish sort of sweet with liquid in it! He broke right in! He -squelched and splashed. It was like hitting a damp toadstool. The flimsy -body went spinning a dozen yards, and fell with a flabby impact. I was -astonished. I was incredulous that any living thing could be so flimsy. -For an instant I could have believed the whole thing a dream. - -Then it had become real and imminent again. Neither Cavor nor the other -Selenites seemed to have done anything from the time when I had turned -about to the time when the dead Selenite hit the ground. Every one stood -back from us two, every one alert. That arrest seemed to last at least a -second after the Selenite was down. Every one must have been taking the -thing in. I seem to remember myself standing with my arm half retracted, -trying also to take it in. "What next?" clamoured my brain; "what next?" -Then in a moment every one was moving! - -I perceived we must get our chains loose, and that before we could do this -these Selenites had to be beaten off. I faced towards the group of the -three goad-bearers. Instantly one threw his goad at me. It swished over -my head, and I suppose went flying into the abyss behind. - -I leaped right at him with all my might as the goad flew over me. He -turned to run as I jumped, and I bore him to the ground, came down right -upon him, and slipped upon his smashed body and fell. He seemed to wriggle -under my foot. - -I came into a sitting position, and on every hand the blue backs of the -Selenites were receding into the darkness. I bent a link by main force and -untwisted the chain that had hampered me about the ankles, and sprang to -my feet, with the chain in my hand. Another goad, flung javelin-wise, -whistled by me, and I made a rush towards the darkness out of which it had -come. Then I turned back towards Cavor, who was still standing in the -light of the rivulet near the gulf convulsively busy with his wrists, and -at the same time jabbering nonsense about his idea. - -"Come on! " I cried. - -"My hands! " he answered. - -Then, realising that I dared not run back to him, because my -ill-calculated steps might carry me over the edge, he came shuffling -towards me, with his hands held out before him. - -I gripped his chains at once to unfasten them. - -"Where are they? " he panted. - -"Run away. They'll come back. They're throwing things! Which way shall we -go?" - -"By the light. To that tunnel. Eh?" - -"Yes," said I, and his hands were free. - -I dropped on my knees and fell to work on his ankle bonds. Whack came -something - I know not what - and splashed the livid streamlet into drops -about us. Far away on our right a piping and whistling began. - -I whipped the chain off his feet, and put it in his hand. "Hit with that! -" I said, and without waiting for an answer, set off in big bounds along -the path by which we had come. I had a nasty sort of feeling that these -things could jump out of the darkness on to my back. I heard the impact of -his leaps come following after me. - -We ran in vast strides. But that running, you must understand, was an -altogether different thing from any running on earth. On earth one leaps -and almost instantly hits the ground again, but on the moon, because of -its weaker pull, one shot through the air for several seconds before one -came to earth. In spite of our violent hurry this gave an effect of long -pauses, pauses in which one might have counted seven or eight. "Step," -and one soared off! All sorts of questions ran through my mind: "Where are -the Selenites? What will they do? Shall we ever get to that tunnel? Is -Cavor far behind? Are they likely to cut him off?" Then whack, stride, and -off again for another step. - -I saw a Selenite running in front of me, his legs going exactly as a man's -would go on earth, saw him glance over his shoulder, and heard him shriek -as he ran aside out of my way into the darkness. He was, I I think, our -guide, but I am not sure. Then in another vast stride the walls of rock -had come into view on either hand, and in two more strides I was in the -tunnel, and tempering my pace to its low roof. I went on to a bend, then -stopped and turned back, and plug, plug, plug, Cavor came into view, -splashing into the stream of blue light at every stride, and grew larger -and blundered into me. We stood clutching each other. For a moment, at -least, we had shaken off our captors and were alone. - -We were both very much out of breath. We spoke In panting, broken -sentences. - -"You've spoilt it all!" panted Cavor. "Nonsense," I cried. "It was that -or death!" - -"What are we to do?" - -"Hide." - -"How can we?" - -"It's dark enough." - -"But where?" - -"Up one of these side caverns." - -"And then?" - -"Think." - -"Right - come on." - -We strode on, and presently came to a radiating dark cavern. Cavor was in -front. He hesitated, and chose a black mouth that seemed to promise good -hiding. He went towards it and turned. - -"Its dark," he said. - -"Your legs and feet will light us. You're wet with that luminous stuff." - -"But - " - -A tumult of sounds, and in particular a sound like a clanging gong, -advancing up the main tunnel, became audible. It was horribly suggestive -of a tumultuous pursuit. We made a bolt for the unlit side cavern -forthwith. As we ran along it our way was lit by the irradiation of -Cavor's legs. "It's lucky," I panted, "they took off our boots, or we -should fill this place with clatter." On we rushed, taking as small steps -as we could to avoid striking the roof of the cavern. After a time we -seemed to be gaining on the uproar. It became muffled, it dwindled, it -died away. - -I stopped and looked back, and I heard the pad, pad of Cavor's feet -receding. Then he stopped also. "Bedford," he whispered; " there's a sort -of light in front of us." - -I looked, and at first could see nothing. Then I perceived his head and -shoulders dimly outlined against a fainter darkness. I saw, also, that -this mitigation of the darkness was not blue, as all the other light -within the moon had been, but a pallid gray, a very vague, faint white, -the daylight colour. Cavor noted this difference as soon, or sooner, than -I did, and I think, too, that it filled him with much the same wild hope. - -"Bedford," he whispered, and his voice trembled. "That light - it is -possible -" - -He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. Then came a pause. Suddenly I -knew by the sound of his feet that he was striding towards that pallor. I -followed him with a beating heart. - - - - - -Chapter 16 - - - - -Points of View - -THE light grew stronger as we advanced. In a little time it was nearly as -strong as the phosphorescence on Cavor's legs. Our tunnel was expanding -into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of it. I -perceived something that set my hopes leaping and bounding. - -"Cavor," I said, "it comes from above! I am certain it comes from above!" - -He made no answer, but hurried on. - -Indisputably it was a gray light, a silvery light. - -In another moment we were beneath it. It filtered down through a chink in -the walls of the cavern, and as I stared up, drip, came a drop of water -upon my face. I started and stood aside - drip, fell another drop quite -audibly on the rocky floor. - -"Cavor," I said, "if one of us lifts the other, he can reach that crack!" - -"I'll lift you," he said, and incontinently hoisted me as though I was a -baby. - -I thrust an arm into the crack, and just at my finger tips found a little -ledge by which I could hold. I could see the white light was very much -brighter now. I pulled myself up by two fingers with scarcely an effort, -though on earth I weigh twelve stone, reached to a still higher corner of -rock, and so got my feet on the narrow ledge. I stood up and searched up -the rocks with my fingers; the cleft broadened out upwardly. "It's -climbable," I said to Cavor. "Can you jump up to my hand if I hold it down -to you?" - -I wedged myself between the sides of the cleft, rested knee and foot on -the ledge, and extended a hand. I could not see Cavor, but I could hear -the rustle of his movements as he crouched to spring. Then whack and he -was hanging to my arm - and no heavier than a kitten! I lugged him up -until he had a hand on my ledge, and could release me. - -"Confound it!" I said, "any one could be a mountaineer on the moon;" and -so set myself in earnest to the climbing. For a few minutes I clambered -steadily, and then I looked up again. The cleft opened out steadily, and -the light was brighter. Only - - -It was not daylight after all. - -In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could have -beaten my head against the rocks with disappointment. For I beheld simply -an irregularly sloping open space, and all over its slanting floor stood a -forest of little club-shaped fungi, each shining gloriously with that -pinkish silvery light. For a moment I stared at their soft radiance, then -sprang forward and upward among them. I plucked up half a dozen and flung -them against the rocks, and then sat down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor's -ruddy face came into view. - -"It's phosphorescence again!" I said. "No need to hurry. Sit down and make -yourself at home." And as he spluttered over our disappointment, I began -to lob more of these growths into the cleft. - -"I thought it was daylight," he said. - -"Daylight!" cried I. "Daybreak, sunset, clouds, and windy skies! Shall we -ever see such things again?" - -As I spoke, a little picture of our world seemed to rise before me, bright -and little and clear, like the background of some old Italian picture. -"The sky that changes, and the sea that changes, and the hills and the -green trees and the towns and cities shining in the sun. Think of a wet -roof at sunset, Cavor! Think of the windows of a westward house!" He made -no answer. - -"Here we are burrowing in this beastly world that isn't a world, with its -inky ocean hidden in some abominable blackness below, and outside that -torrid day and that death stillness of night. And all these things that -are chasing us now, beastly men of leather - insect men, that come out of -a nightmare! After all, they're right! What business have we here smashing -them and disturbing their world! For all we know the whole planet is up -and after us already. In a minute we may hear them whimpering, and their -gongs going. What are we to do? Where are we to go? Here we are as -comfortable as snakes from Jamrach's loose in a Surbiton villa!" - -"It was your fault," said Cavor. - -"My fault! " I shouted. "Good Lord!" - -"I had an idea!" - -"Curse your ideas!" - -"If we had refused to budge" - -"Under those goads?" - -"Yes. They would have carried us!" - -"Over that bridge?" - -"Yes. They must have carried us from outside." - -"I'd rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling." - -"Good Heavens!" - -I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something that -struck me even then. "Cavor," I said, "these chains are of gold!" - -He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned -his head slowly and stared at me, and when I had repeated my words, at the -twisted chain about his right hand. " So they are," he said, "so they -are." His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He -hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I -sat for a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed this, -until I considered the blue light in which we had been, and which had -taken all the colour out of tlie metal. And from that discovery I also -started upon a train of thought that carried me wide and far. I forgot -that I had just been asking what business we had in the moon. Gold - - -It was Cavor who spoke first. "It seems to me that there are two courses -open to us." - -"Well" - -"Either we can attempt to make our way - fight our way if necessary - out -to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere until we find it, or -the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else -" - -He paused. "Yes?" I said, though I knew what was coming. - -"We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding with -the minds of the people in the moon." - -"So far as I'm concerned - it's the first." - -"I doubt." - -"I don't." - -"You see," said Cavor, "I do not think we can judge the Selenites by what -we have seen of them. Their central world, their civilised world will be -far below in the profounder caverns about their sea. This region of the -crust in which we are is an outlying district, a pastoral region. At any -rate, that is my interpretation. These Selenites we have seen may be only -the equivalent of cowboys and engine-tenders. Their use of goads - in all -probability mooncalf goads - the lack of imagination they show in -expecting us to be able to do just what they can do, their indisputable -brutality, all seem to point to something of that sort. But if we endured --" - -"Neither of us could endure a six-inch plank across the bottomless pit for -very long." - -"No," said Cavor; "but then -" - -"I won't," I said. - -He discovered a new line of possibilities. "Well, suppose we got ourselves -into some corner, where we could defend ourselves against these hinds and -labourers. If, for example, we could hold out for a week or so, it is -probable that the news of our appearance would filter down to the more -intelligent and populous parts -" - -"If they exist." - -"They must exist, or whence came those tremendous machines?" - -"That's possible, but it's the worst of the two chances." - -"We might write up inscriptions on walls" - -"How do we know their eyes would see the sort of marks we made?" - -"If we cut them - " - -"That's possible, of course." - -I took up a new thread of thought. "After all," - I said, " I suppose you -don't think these Selenites so infinitely wiser than men." - -"They must know a lot more - or at least a lot of different things." - -"Yes, but -" I hesitated. - -"I think you'll quite admit, Cavor, that you're rather an exceptional -man." - -"How?" - -"Well, you - you're a rather lonely man - have been, that is. You haven't -married." - -"Never wanted to. But why - " - -"And you never grew richer than you happened to be? " - -"Never wanted that either." - -"You've just rooted after knowledge?" - -"Well, a certain curiosity is natural - " - -"You think so. That's just it. You think every other mind wants to know. I -remember once, when I asked you why you conducted all these researches, -you said you wanted your F.R.S., and to have the stuff called Cavorite, -and things like that. You know perfectly well you didn't do it for that; -but at the time my question took you by surprise, and you felt you ought -to have something to look like a motive. Really you conducted researches -because you had to. It's your twist." - -"Perhaps it is -" - -"It isn't one man in a million has that twist. Most men want - well, -various things, but very few want knowledge for its own sake. I don't, I -know perfectly well. Now, these Selenites seem to be a driving, busy sort -of being, but how do you know that even the most intelligent will take an -interest in us or our world? I don't believe they'll even know we have a -world. They never come out at night - they'd freeze if they did. They've -probably never seen any heavenly body at all except the blazing sun. How -are they to know there is another world? What does it matter to them if -they do? Well, even if they have had a glimpse of a few stars, or even of -the earth crescent, what of that? Why should people living inside a -planet trouble to observe that sort of thing? Men wouldn't have done it -except for the seasons and sailing; why should the moon people?... - -"Well, suppose there are a few philosophers like yourself. They are just -the very Selenites who'll never have heard of our existence. Suppose a -Selenite had I dropped on the earth when you were at Lympne, you'd have -been the last man in the world to hear he had come. You never read a -newspaper! You see the chances against you. Well, it's for these chances -we're sitting here doing nothing while precious time is flying. I tell you -we've got into a fix. We've come unarmed, we've lost our sphere, we've got -no food, we've shown ourselves to the Selenites, and made them think we're -strange, strong, dangerous animals; and unless these Selenites are perfect -fools, they'll set about now and hunt us till they find us, and when they -find us they'll try to take us if they can, and kill us if they can't, and -that's the end of the matter. If they take us, they'll probably kill us, -through some misunderstanding. After we're done for, they may discuss us -perhaps, but we shan't get much fun out of that." - -"Go on." - -"On the other hand, here's gold knocking about like cast iron at home. If -only we can get some of it back, if only we can find our sphere again -before they do, and get back, then -" - -"Yes?" - -"We might put the thing on a sounder footing. Come back in a bigger -sphere with guns." - -"Good Lord!" cried Cavor, as though that was horrible. - -I shied another luminous fungus down the cleft. - -"Look here, Cavor," I said, "I've half the voting power anyhow in this -affair, and this is a case for a practical man. I'm a practical man, and -you are not. I'm not going to trust to Selenites and geometrical diagrams -if I can help it. That's all. Get back. Drop all this secrecy - or most -of it. And come again." - -He reflected. "When I came to the moon," he said, "I ought to have come -alone." - -"The question before the meeting," I said, "is how to get back to the -sphere." - -For a time we nursed our knees in silence. Then he seemed to decide for my -reasons. - -"I think," he said, "one can get data. It is clear that while the sun is -on this side of the moon the air will be blowing through this planet -sponge from the dark side hither. On this side, at any rate, the air will -be expanding and flowing out of the moon caverns into the craters. ... -Very well, there's a draught here." - -"So there is." - -"And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this -cleft goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we -have to go. If we try to get up any sort of chimney or gully there is, we -shall not only get out of these passages where they are hunting for us - " - -"But suppose the gully is too narrow?" - -"We'll come down again." - -"Ssh!" I said suddenly; "what's that?" - -We listened. At first it was an indistinct murmur, and then one picked out -the clang of a gong. "They must think we are mooncalves," said I, "to be -frightened at that." - -"They're coming along that passage, said Cavor. - -"They must be." - -"They'll not think of the cleft. They'll go past." - -I listened again for a space. "This time," I whispered, "they're likely to -have some sort of weapon." - -Then suddenly I sprang to my feet. "Good heavens, Cavor! " I cried. "But -they will! They'll see the fungi I have been pitching down. They'll - " - -I didn't finish my sentence. I turned about and made a leap over the -fungus tops towards the upper end of the cavity. I saw that the space -turned upward and became a draughty cleft again, ascending to impenetrable -darkness. I was about to clamber up into this, and then with a happy -inspiration turned back. - -"What are you doing? " asked Cavor. - -"Go on! said I, and went back and got two of the shining fungi, and -putting one into the breast pocket of my flannel jacket, so that it stuck -out to light our climbing, went back with the other for Cavor. The noise -of the Selenites was now so loud that it seemed they must be already -beneath the cleft. But it might be they would have difficulty in -clambering in to it, or might hesitate to ascend it against our possible -resistance. At any rate, we had now the comforting knowledge of the -enormous muscular superiority our birth in another planet gave us. In -other minute I was clambering with gigantic vigour after Cavor's blue-lit -heels. - - - - - -Chapter 17 - - - - -The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers - -I DO not know how far we clambered before we came to the grating. It may -be we ascended only a few hundred feet, but at the time it seemed to me we -might have hauled and jammed and hopped and wedged ourselves through a -mile or more of vertical ascent. Whenever I recall that time,,there comes -into my head the heavy clank of our golden chains that followed every -movement. Very soon my knuckles and knees were raw, and I had a bruise on -one cheek. After a time the first violence of our efforts diminished, and -our movements became more deliberate and less painful. The noise of the -pursuing Selenites had died away altogether. It seemed almost as though -they had not traced us up the crack after all, in spite of the tell-tale -heap of broken fungi that must have lain beneath it. At times the cleft -narrowed so much that we could scarce squeeze up it; at others it expanded -into great drusy cavities, studded with prickly crystals or thickly beset -with dull, shining fungoid pimples. Sometimes it twisted spirally, and at -other times slanted down nearly to the horizontal direction. Ever and -again there was the intermittent drip and trickle of water by us. Once or -twice it seemed to us that small living things had rustled out of our -reach, but what they were we never saw. They may have been venomous beasts -for all I know, but they did us no harm, and we were now tuned to a pitch -when a weird creeping thing more or less mattered little. And at last, far -above, came the familiar bluish light again, and then we saw that it -filtered through a grating that barred our way. - -We whispered as we pointed this out to one another, and became more and -more cautious in our ascent. Presently we were close under the grating, -and by pressing my face against its bars I could see a limited portion of -the cavern beyond. It was clearly a large space, and lit no doubt by some -rivulet of the same blue light that we had seen flow from the beating -machinery. An intermittent trickle of water dropped ever and again between -the bars near my face. - -My first endeavour was naturally to see what might be upon the floor of -the cavern, but our grating lay in a depression whose rim hid all this -from our eyes. Our foiled attention then fell back upon the suggestion of -the various sounds we heard, and presently my eye caught a number of faint -shadows that played across the dim roof far overhead. - -Indisputably there were several Selenites, perhaps a considerable number, -in this space, for we could hear the noises of their intercourse, and -faint sounds that I identified as their footfalls. There was also a -succession of regularly repeated sounds - chid, chid, chid - which began -and ceased, suggestive of a knife or spade hacking at some soft substance. -Then came a clank as if of chains, a whistle and a rumble as of a truck -running over a hollowed place, and then again that chid, chid, chid -resumed. The shadows told of shapes that moved quickly and rhythmically, -in agreement with that regular sound, and rested when it ceased. - -We put our heads close together, and began to discuss these things in -noiseless whispers. - -"They are occupied," I said, "they are occupied in some way." - -"Yes." - -"They're not seeking us, or thinking of us." - -"Perhaps they have not heard of us." - -"Those others are hunting about below. If suddenly we appeared here - " - -We looked at one another. - -"There might be a chance to parley," said Cavor. - -"No," I said. "Not as we are." - -For a space we remained, each occupied by his own thoughts. - -Chid, chid, chid went the chopping, and the shadows moved to and fro. - -I looked at the grating. "It's flimsy," I said. "We might bend two of the -bars and crawl through." - -We wasted a little time in vague discussion. Then I took one of the bars -in both hands, and got my feet up against the rock until they were almost -on a level with my head, and so thrust against the bar. It bent so -suddenly that I almost slipped. I clambered about and bent the adjacent -bar in the opposite direction, and then took the luminous fungus from my -pocket and dropped it down the fissure. - -"Don't do anything hastily," whispered Cavor, as I twisted myself up -through the opening I had enlarged. I had a glimpse of busy figures as I -came through the grating, and immediately bent down, so that the rim of -the depression in which the grating lay hid me from their eyes, and so lay -flat, signalling advice to Cavor as he also prepared to come through. -Presently we were side by side in the depression, peering over the edge at -the cavern and its occupants. - -It was a much larger cavern than we had supposed from our first glimpse of -it, and we looked up from the lowest portion of its sloping floor. It -widened out as it receded from us, and its roof came down and hid the -remoter portion altogether. And lying in a line along its length, -vanishing at last far away in that tremendous perspective, were a number -of huge shapes, huge pallid hulls, upon which the Selenites were busy. At -first they seemed big white cylinders of vague import. Then I noted the -heads upon them lying towards us, eyeless and skinless like the heads of -sheep at a butcher's, and perceived they were the carcasses of mooncalves -being cut up, much as the crew of a whaler might cut up a moored whale. -They were cutting off the flesh in strips, and on some of the farther -trunks the white ribs were showing. It was the sound of their hatchets -that made that chid, chid. Some way away a thing like a trolley cable, -drawn and loaded with chunks of lax meat, was running up the slope of the -cavern floor. This enormous long avenue of hulls that were destined to be -food, gave us a sense of the vast populousness of the moon world second -only to the effect of our first glimpse down the shaft. - -It seemed to me at first that the Selenites must be standing on -trestle-supported planks, and then I saw that the planks and supports and -their hatchets were really of the same leaden hue as my fetters had seemed -- before white light came to bear on them. A number of very thick-looking -crowbars lay about the floor, and had apparently assisted to turn the dead -mooncalf over on its side. They were perhaps six feet long, with shaped -handles, very tempting-looking weapons. The whole place was lit by three -transverse streams of the blue fluid. - -[I do not remember seeing any wooden things on the moon; doors tables, -everything corresponding to our terrestrial joinery was made of metal, and -I believe for the most part of gold, which as a metal would, of course, -naturally recommend itself - other things being equal - on account of the -ease in working it, and its toughness and durability.] - -We lay for a long time noting all these things in silence. "Well?" said -Cavor at last. - -I crouched over and turned to him. I had come upon a brilliant idea. -"Unless they lowered those bodies by a crane," I said, "we must be nearer -the surface than I thought." - -"Why?" - -"The mooncalf doesn't hop, and it hasn't got wings." - -He peered over the edge of the hollow again. "I wonder now ..." he began. -"After all, we have never gone far from the surface - " - -I stopped him by a grip on his arm. I had heard a noise from the cleft -below us! - -We twisted ourselves about, and lay as still as death, with every sense -alert. In a little while I did not doubt that something was quietly -ascending the cleft. Very slowly and quite noiselessly I assured myself -of a good grip on my chain, and waited for that something to appear. - -"Just look at those chaps with the hatchets again," I said. - -"They're all right," said Cavor. - -I took a sort of provisional aim at the gap in the grating. I could hear -now quite distinctly the soft twittering of the ascending Selenites, the -dab of their hands against the rock, and the falling of dust from their -grips as they clambered. - -Then I could see that there was something moving dimly in the blackness -below the grating, but what it might be I could not distinguish. The whole -thing I seemed to hang fire just for a moment - then smash! I had sprung -to my feet, struck savagely at something that had flashed out at me. It -was the keen point of a spear. I have thought since that its length in the -narrowness of the cleft must have prevented its being sloped to reach me. -Anyhow, it shot out from the grating like the tongue of a snake, and -missed and flew back and flashed again. But the second time I snatched and -caught it, and wrenched it away, but not before another had darted -ineffectually at me. - -I shouted with triumph as I felt the hold of the Selenite resist my pull -for a moment and give, and then I was jabbing down through the bars, -amidst squeals from the darkness, and Cavor had snapped off the other -spear, and was leaping and flourishing it beside me, and making -inefficient jabs. Clang, clang, came up through the grating, and then an -axe hurtled through the air and whacked against the rocks beyond, to -remind me of the fleshers at the carcasses up the cavern. - -I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving their -axes. They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, strikingly -different from the ones we had seen before. If they had not heard of us -before, they must have realised the situation with incredible swiftness. I -stared at them for a moment, spear in hand. "Guard that grating, Cavor," I -cried, howled to intimidate them, and rushed to meet them. Two of them -missed with their hatchets, and the rest fled incontinently. Then the two -also were sprinting away up the cavern, with hands clenched and heads -down. I never saw men run like them! - -I knew the spear I had was no good for me. It was thin and flimsy, only -effectual for a thrust, and too long for a quick recover. So I only chased -the Selenites as far as the first carcass, and stopped there and picked up -one of the crowbars that were lying about. It felt comfortingly heavy, and -equal to smashing any number of Selenites. I threw away my spear, and -picked up a second crowbar for the other hand. I felt five times better -than I had with the spear. I shook the two threateningly at the Selenites, -who had come to a halt in a little crowd far away up the cavern, and then -turned about to look at Cavor. - -He was leaping from side to side of the grating, making threatening jabs -with his broken spear. That was all right. It would keep the Selenites -down - for a time at any rate. I looked up the cavern again. What on earth -were we going to do now? - -We were cornered in a sort of way already. But these butchers up the -cavern had been surprised, they were probably scared, and they had no -special weapons, only those little hatchets of theirs. And that way lay -escape. Their sturdy little forms - ever so much shorter and thicker than -the mooncalf herds - were scattered up the slope in a way that was -eloquent of indecision. I had the moral advantage of a mad bull in a -street. But for all that, there seemed a tremendous crowd of them. Very -probably there was. Those Selenites down the cleft had certainly some -infernally long spears. It might be they had other surprises for us. ... -But, confound it! if we charged up the cave we should let them up behind -us, and if we didn't those little brutes up the cave would probably get -reinforced. Heaven alone knew what tremendous engines of warfare - guns, -bombs, terrestrial torpedoes - this unknown world below our feet, this -vaster world of which we had only pricked the outer cuticle, might not -presently send up to our destruction. It became clear the only thing to do -was to charge! It became clearer as the legs of a number of fresh -Selenites appeared running down the cavern towards us. - -"Bedford! " cried Cavor, and behold! he was halfway between me and the -grating. - -"Go back!" I cried. "What are you doing -" - -"They've got - it's like a gun!" - -And struggling in the grating between those defensive spears appeared the -head and shoulders of a singularly lean and angular Selenite, bearing some -complicated apparatus. - -I realised Cavor's utter incapacity for the fight we had in hand. For a -moment I hesitated. Then I rushed past him whirling my crowbars, and -shouting to confound the aim of the Selenite. He was aiming in the -queerest way with the thing against his stomach. "Chuzz!" The thing -wasn't a gun; it went off like cross-bow more, and dropped me in the -middle of a leap. - -I didn't fall down, I simply came down a little shorter than I should have -done if I hadn't been hit, and from the feel of my shoulder the thing -might have tapped me and glanced off. Then my left hand hit again the -shaft, and I perceived there was a sort of spear sticking half through my -shoulder. The moment after I got home with the crowbar in my right hand, -and hit the Selenite fair and square. He collapsed - he crushed and -crumpled - his head smashed like an egg. - -I dropped a crowbar, pulled the spear out of my shoulder, and began to jab -it down the grating into the darkness. At each jab came a shriek and -twitter. Finally I hurled the spear down upon them with all my strength, -leapt up, picked up the crowbar again, and started for the multitude up -the cavern. - -"Bedford!" cried Cavor. "Bedford!" as I flew past him. - -I seem to remember his footsteps coming on behind me. - -Step, leap ... whack, step, leap. ... Each leap seemed to last ages. With -each, the cave opened out and the number of Selenites visible increased. -At first they seemed all running about like ants in a disturbed ant-hill, -one or two waving hatchets and coming to meet me, more running away, some -bolting sideways into the avenue of carcasses, then presently others came -in sight carrying spears, and then others. I saw a most extraordinary -thing, all hands and feet, bolting for cover. The cavern grew darker -farther up. - -Flick! something flew over my head. Flick! As I soared in mid-stride I saw -a spear hit and quiver in one of the carcasses to my left. Then, as I came -down, one hit the ground before me, and I heard the remote chuzz! with -which their things were fired. Flick, flick! for a moment it was a -shower. They were volleying! - -I stopped dead. - -I don't think I thought clearly then. I seem to remember a kind of -stereotyped phrase running through my mind: "Zone of fire, seek cover!" I -know I made a dash for the space between two ~ the carcasses, and stood -there panting and feeling very wicked. - -I looked round for Cavor, and for a moment it seemed as if he had vanished -from the world. Then he came out of the darkness between the row of the -carcasses and the rocky wall of the cavern. I saw his little face, dark -and blue, and shining with perspiration and emotion. - -He was saying something, but what it was I did not heed. I had realised -that we might work from mooncalf to mooncalf up the cave until we were -near enough to charge home. It was charge or nothing. "Come on! " I said, -and led the way. - -"Bedford! " he cried unavailingly. - -My mind was busy as we went up that narrow alley between the dead bodies -and the wall of the cavern. The rocks curved about - they could not -enfilade us. Though in that narrow space we could not leap, yet with our -earth-born strength we were still able to go very much faster than the -Selenites. I reckoned we should presently come right among them. Once we -were on them, they would be nearly as formidable as black beetles. Only - -there would first of all be a volley. I thought of a stratagem. I whipped -off my flannel jacket as I ran. - -"Bedford!" panted Cavor behind me. - -I glanced back. "What?" said I. - -He was pointing upward over the carcasses. "White light!" he said. "White -light again!" - -I looked, and it was even so, a faint white ghost of light in the remoter -cavern roof. That seemed to give me double strength. - -"Keep close," I said. A flat, long Selenite dashed out of the darkness, -and squealed and fled. I halted, and stopped Cavor with my hand. I hung my -jacket over my crowbar, ducked round the next carcass, dropped jacket and -crowbar, showed myself, and darted back. - -"Chuzz-flick," just one arrow came. We were close on the Selenites, and -they were standing in a crowd, broad, short, and tall together, with a -little battery of their shooting implements pointing down the cave. Three -or four other arrows followed the first, then their fire ceased. - -I stuck out my head, and escaped by a hair's-breadth. This time I drew a -dozen shots or more, and heard the Selenites shouting and twittering as if -with excitement as they shot. I picked up jacket and crowbar again. - -"Now! " said I, and thrust out the jacket. - -"Chuzz-zz-zz-zz! Chuzz!" In an instant my jacket had grown a thick beard -of arrows, and they were quivering all over the carcass behind us. -Instantly I slipped the crowbar out of the jacket, dropped the jacket - -for all I know to the contrary it is lying up there in the moon now - and -rushed out upon them. - -For a minute perhaps it was massacre. I was too fierce to discriminate, -and the Selenites were probably too scared to fight. At any rate they made -no sort of fight against me. I saw scarlet, as the saying is. I remember I -seemed to be wading among those leathery, thin things as a man wades -through tall grass, mowing and hitting, first right, then left; smash. -Little drops of moisture flew about. I trod on things that crushed and -piped and went slippery. The crowd seemed to open and close and flow like -water. They seemed to have no combined plan whatever. There were spears -flew about me, I was grazed over the ear by one. I was stabbed once in the -arm and once in the cheek, but I only found that out afterwards, when the -blood had had time to run and cool and feel wet. - -What Cavor did I do not know. For a space it seemed that this fighting had -lasted for an age, and must needs go on for ever. Then suddenly it was all -over, and there was nothing to be seen but the backs of heads bobbing up -and down as their owners ran in all directions. ... I seemed altogether -unhurt. I ran forward some paces, shouting, then turned about. I was -amazed. - -I had come right through them in vast flying strides, they were all behind -me, and running hither and thither to hide. - -I felt an enormous astonishment at the evaporation of the great fight into -which I had hurled myself, and not a little exultation. It did not seem to -me that I had discovered the Selenites were unexpectedly flimsy, but that -I was unexpectedly strong. I laughed stupidly. This fantastic moon! - -I glanced for a moment at the smashed and writhing bodies that were -scattered over the cavern floor, with a vague idea of further violence, -then hurried on after Cavor. - - - - - -Chapter 18 - - - - -In the Sunlight - -PRESENTLY we saw that the cavern before us opened upon a hazy void. In -another moment we had emerged upon a sort of slanting gallery, that -projected into a vast circular space, a huge cylindrical pit running -vertically up and down. Round this pit the slanting gallery ran without -any parapet or protection for a turn and a half, and then plunged high -above into the rock again. Somehow it reminded me then one of those spiral -turns of the railway through the Saint Gothard. It was all tremendously -huge. I can scarcely hope to convey to you the Titanic proportion of all -that place, the Titanic effect of it. Our eyes followed up the vast -declivity of the pit wall, and overhead and far above we beheld a round -opening set with faint stars, and half of the lip about it well nigh -blinding with the white light of the sun. At that we cried aloud -simultaneously. - -"Come on!" I said, leading the way. - -"But there?" said Cavor, and very carefully stepped nearer the edge of the -gallery. I followed his example, and craned forward and looked down, but I -was dazzled by that gleam of light above, and I could see only a -bottomless darkness with spectral patches of crimson and purple floating -therein. Yet if I could not see, I could hear. Out of this darkness came a -sound, a sound like the angry hum one can hear if one puts one's ear -outside a hive of bees, a sound out of that enormous hollow, it may be, -four miles beneath our feet... - -For a moment I listened, then tightened my grip on my crowbar, and led the -way up the gallery. - -"This must be the shaft we looked down upon," said Cavor. "Under that -lid." - -"And below there, is where we saw the lights." - -"The lights!" said he. " Yes - the lights of the world that now we shall -never see." - -"We'll come back," I said, for now we had escaped so much I was rashly -sanguine that we should recover the sphere. - -His answer I did not catch. - -"Eh?" I asked. - -"It doesn't matter," he answered, and we hurried on in silence. - -I suppose that slanting lateral way was four or five miles long, allowing -for its curvature, and it ascended at a slope that would have made it -almost impossibly steep on earth, but which one strode up easily under -lunar conditions. We saw only two Selenites during all that portion of our -flight, and directly they became aware of us they ran headlong. It was -clear that the knowledge of our strength and violence had reached them. -Our way to the exterior was unexpectedly plain. The spiral gallery -straightened into a steeply ascendent tunnel, its floor bearing abundant -traces of the mooncalves, and so straight and short in proportion to its -vast arch, that no part of it was absolutely dark. Almost immediately it -began to lighten, and then far off and high up, and quite blindingly -brilliant, appeared its opening on the exterior, a slope of Alpine -steepness surmounted by a crest of bayonet shrub, tall and broken down -now, and dry and dead, in spiky silhouette against the sun. - -And it is strange that we men, to whom this very vegetation had seemed so -weird and horrible a little time ago, should now behold it with the -emotion a home-coming exile might feel at sight of his native land. We -welcomed even the rareness of the air that made us pant as we ran, and -which rendered speaking no longer the easy thing that it had been, but an -effort to make oneself heard. Larger grew the sunlit circle above us, and -larger, and all the nearer tunnel sank into a rim of indistinguishable -black. We saw the dead bayonet shrub no longer with any touch of green in -it, but brown and dry and thick, arid the M shadow of its upper branches -high out of sight made a densely interlaced pattern upon the tumbled -rocks. And at the immediate mouth of the tunnel was a wide trampled space -where the mooncalves had come and gone. - -We came out upon this space at last into a light and heat that hit and -pressed upon us. We traversed the exposed area painfully, and clambered up -a slope among the scrub stems, and sat down at last panting in a high -place beneath the shadow of a mass of twisted lava. Even in the shade the -rock felt hot. - -The air was intensely hot, and we were in great physical discomfort, but -for all that we were no longer in a nightmare. We seemed to have come to -our own province again, beneath the stars. All the fear and stress of our -flight through the dim passages and fissures below had fallen from us. -That last fight bad filled us with an enormous confidence in ourselves so -far as the Selenites were concerned. We looked back almost incredulously -at the black opening from which we had just emerged. Down there it was, in -a blue glow that now in our memories seemed the next thing to absolute -darkness, we had met with things like mad mockeries of men, helmet-headed -creatures, and had walked in fear before them, and had submitted to them -until we could submit no longer. And behold, they had smashed like wax and -scattered like chaff, and fled and vanished like the creatures of a dream! - -I rubbed my eyes, doubting whether we had not slept and dreamt these -things by reason of the fungus we had eaten, and suddenly discovered the -blood upon my face, and then that my shirt was sticking painfully to my -shoulder and arm. - -"Confound it!" I said, gauging my injuries with an investigatory hand, and -suddenly that distant tunnel mouth became, as it were, a watching eye. - -"Cavor!" I said; "what are they going to do now? And what are we going to -do?" - -He shook his head, with his eyes fixed upon the tunnel. "How can one tell -what they will do?" - -"It depends on what they think of us, and I don't see how we can begin to -guess that. And it depends upon what they have in reserve. It's as you -say, Cavor, we have touched the merest outside of this world. They may -have all sorts of things inside here. Even with those shooting things they -might make it bad for us.... - -"Yet after all," I said, "even if we don't find the sphere at once, there -is a chance for us. We might hold out. Even through the night. We might go -down there again and make a fight for it." - -I stared about me with speculative eyes. The character of the scenery had -altered altogether by reason of the enormous growth and subsequent drying -of the scrub. The crest on which we sat was high, and commanded a wide -prospect of the crater landscape, and we saw it now all sere and dry in -the late autumn of the lunar afternoon. Rising one behind the other were -long slopes and fields of trampled brown where the mooncalves had -pastured, and far away in the full blaze of the sun a drove of them basked -slumberously, scattered shapes, each with a blot of shadow against it like -sheep on the side of a down. But never a sign of a Selenite was to be -seen. Whether they had fled on our emergence from the interior passages, -or whether they were accustomed to retire after driving out the -mooncalves, I cannot guess. At the time I believed the former was the -case. - -"If we were to set fire to all this stuff, I said, "we might find the -sphere among the ashes." - -Cavor did not seem to hear me. He was peering under his hand at the stars, -that still, in spite of the intense sunlight, were abundantly visible in -the sky. "How long do you think we've have been here?" he asked at last. - -"Been where? " - -"On the moon." - -"Two earthly days, perhaps." - -"More nearly ten. Do you know, the sun is past its zenith, and sinking in -the west. In four days' time or less it will be night." - -"But - we've only eaten once!" - -"I know that. And - But there are the stars! " - -"But why should time seem different because we are on a smaller planet? " - -"I don't know. There it is!" - -"How does one tell time?" - -"Hunger - fatigue - all those things are different. Everything is -different - everything. To me it seems that since first we came out of the -sphere has been only a question of hours - long hours - at most." - -"Ten days," I said; "that leaves -" I looked up at the sun for a moment, -and then saw that it was halfway from the zenith to the western edge of -things. "Four days! ... Cavor, we musn't sit here and dream. How do you -think we may begin?" - -I stood up. "We must get a fixed point we can recognise - we might hoist a -flag, or a handkerchief, or something - and quarter the ground, and work -round that." - -He stood up beside me. - -"Yes," he said, "there is nothing for it but to hunt the sphere. Nothing. -We may find it - certainly we may find it. And if not -" - -"We must keep on looking." - -He look this way and that, glanced up at the sky and down at the tunnel, -and astonished me by a sudden gesture of impatience. "Oh! but we have -done foolishly! To have come to this pass! Think how it might have been, -and the things we might have done!" - -"We might do something yet." - -"Never the thing we might have done. here below out feet is a world. -Think of what that world must be! Think of that machine we saw, and the -lid and the shaft! They were just remote outlying things, and those -creatures we have seen and fought with no more than ignorant peasants, -dwellers in the outskirts, yokels and labourers half akin to brutes. Down -below! Caverns beneath caverns, tunnels, structures, ways... It must -open out, and be greater and wider and more populous as one descends. -Assuredly. Right down at the last the central sea that washes round the -core of the moon. Think of its inky waters under the spare lights - if, -indeed, their eyes need lights! Think of the cascading tributaries -pouring down their channels to feed it! Think of the tides upon its -surface, and the rush and swirl of its ebb and flow! perhaps they have -ships that go upon it, perhaps down there are mighty cities and swarming -ways, and wisdom and order passing the wit of man. And we may die here -upon it, and never see the masters who must be - ruling over these things! -We may freeze and die here, and the air will freeze and thaw upon us, and -then - ! Then they will come upon us, come on our stiff and silent -bodies, and find the sphere we cannot find, and they will understand at -last too late all the thought and effort that ended here in vain!" - -His voice for all that speech sounded like the voice of someone heard in a -telephone, weak and far away. - -"But the darkness," I said. - -"One might get over that." - -"How?" - -"I don't know. How am I to know? One might carry a torch, one might have -a lamp - The others - might understand." - -He stood for a moment with his hands held down and a rueful face, staring -out over the waste that defied him. Then with a gesture of renunciation -he turned towards me with proposals for the systematic hunting of the -sphere. - -"We can return," I said. - -He looked about him. "First of all we shall have to get to earth." - -"We could bring back lamps to carry and climbing irons, and a hundred -necessary things." - -"Yes," he said. - -"We can take back an earnest of success in this gold." - -He looked at my golden crowbars, and said nothing for a space. He stood -with his hands clasped behind his back, staring across the crater. At -last he signed and spoke. "It was I found the way here, but to find a way -isn't always to be master of a way. If I take my secret back to earth, -what will happen? I do not see how I can keep my secret for a year, for -even a part of a year. Sooner or later it must come out, even if other -men rediscover it. And then ... Governments and powers will struggle to -get hither, they will fight against one another, and against these moon -people; it will only spread warfare and multiply the occasions of war. In -a little while, in a very little while, if I tell my secret, this planet -to its deepest galleries will be strewn with human dead. Other things are -doubtful, but that is certain. It is not as though man had any use for the -moon. What good would the moon be to men? Even of their own planet what -have they made but a battle-ground and theatre of infinite folly? Small -as his world is, and short as his time, he has still in his little life -down there far more than he can do. No! Science has toiled too long -forging weapons for fools to use. It is time she held her hand. Let him -find it out for himself again - in a thousand years' time." - -"There are methods of secrecy," I said. - -He looked up at me and smiled. "After all," he said, "why should one -worry? There is little chance of our finding the sphere, and down below -things are brewing. It's simply the human habit of hoping till we die that -makes us think of return. Our troubles are only beginning. We have shown -these moon folk violence, we have given them a taste of our quality, and -our chances are about as good as a tiger's that has got loose and killed a -man in Hyde Park. The news of us must be running down from gallery to -gallery, down towards the central parts. ... No sane beings will ever let -us take that sphere back to earth after so much as they have seen of us." - -"We aren't improving our chances," said I, "by sitting here." - -We stood up side by side. - -"After all," he said, we must separate. We must stick up a handkerchief on -these tall spikes here and fasten it firmly, and from this as a centre we -must work over the crater. You must go westward, moving out in semicircles -to and fro towards the setting sun. You must move first with your shadow -on your right until it is at right angles with the direction of your -handkerchief, and then with your shadow on your left. And I will do the -same to the east. We will look into every gully, examine every skerry of -rocks; we will do all we can to find my sphere. If we see the Selenites we -will hide from them as well as we can. For drink we must take snow, and if -we feel the need of food, we must kill a mooncalf if we can, and eat such -flesh as it has - raw - and so each will go his own way." - -"And if one of us comes upon the sphere?" - -"He must come back to the white handkerchief, and stand by it and signal -to the other." - -"And if neither?" - -Cavor glanced up at the sun. "We go on seeking until the night and cold -overtake us." - -"Suppose the Selenites have found the sphere and hidden it?" - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"Or if presently they come hunting us?" - -He made no answer. - -"You had better take a club," I said. - -He shook his head, and stared away from me across the waste. - -But for a moment he did not start. He looked round at me shyly, hesitated. -"Au revoir," he said. - -I felt an odd stab of emotion. A sense of how we had galled each other, -and particularly how I must have galled him, came to me. "Confound it," -thought I, "we might have done better!" I was on the point of asking him -to shake hands - for that, somehow, was how I felt just then - when he put -his feet together and leapt away from me towards the north. He seemed to -drift through the air as a dead leaf would do, fell lightly, and leapt -again. I stood for a moment watching him, then faced westward reluctantly, -pulled myself together, and with something of the feeling of a man who -leaps into icy water, selected a leaping point, and plunged forward to -explore my solitary half of the moon world. I dropped rather clumsily -among rocks, stood up and looked about me, clambered on to a rocky slab, -and leapt again. ... - -When presently I looked for Cavor he was hidden from my eyes, but the -handkerchief showed out bravely on its headland, white in the blaze of the -sun. - -I determined not to lose sight of that handkerchief whatever might betide. - - - - - -Chapter 19 - - - - -Mr. Bedford Alone - -IN a little while it seemed to me as though I had always been alone on the -moon. I hunted for a time with a certain intentness, but the heat was -still very great, and the thinness of the air felt like a hoop about one's -chest. I came presently into a hollow basin bristling with tall, brown, -dry fronds about its edge, and I sat down under these to rest and cool. I -intended to rest for only a little while. I put down my clubs beside me, -and sat resting my chin on my hands. I saw with a sort of colourless -interest that the rocks of the basin, where here and there the crackling -dry lichens had shrunk away to show them, were all veined and splattered -with gold, that here and there bosses of rounded and wrinkled gold -projected from among the litter. What did that matter now? A sort of -languor had possession of my limbs and mind, I did not belive for a moment -that we should ever find the sphere in that vast desiccated wilderness. I -seemed to lack a motive for effort until the Selenites should come. Then -I supposed I should exert myself, obeying that unreasonable imperative -that urges a man before all things to preserve and defend his life, albeit -he may preserve it only to die more painfully in a little while. - -Why had we come to the moon? - -The thing presented itself to me as a perplexing problem. What is this -spirit in man that urges him for ever to depart from happiness and -security, to toil, to place himself in danger, to risk even a reasonable -certainty of death? It dawned upon me up there in the moon as a thing I -ought always to have known, that man is not made simply to go about being -safe and comfortable and well fed and amused. Almost any man, if you put -the thing to him, not in words, but in the shape of opportunities, will -show that he knob as much. Against his interest, against his happiness, he -is constantly being driven to do unreasonable things. Some force not -himself impels him, and go he must. But why? Why? Sitting there in the -midst of that useless moon gold, amidst the things of another world, I -took count of all my life. Assuming I was to die a castaway upon the moon, -I failed altogether to see what purpose I had served. I got no light on -that point, but at any rate it was clearer to me than it had ever been in -my life before that I was not serving my own purpose, that all my life I -had in truth never served the purposes of my private life. Whose purposes, -what purposes, was I serving? ... I ceased to speculate on why we had come -to the moon, and took a wider sweep. Why had I come to the earth? Why had -I a private life at all? ... I lost myself at last in bottomless -speculations. ... - -My thoughts became vague and cloudy, no longer leading in definite -directions. I had not felt heavy or weary - I cannot imagine one doing so -upon the moon - but I suppose I was greatly fatigued. At any rate I slept. - -Slumbering there rested me greatly, I think, and the sun was setting and -the violence of the heat abating, through all the time I slumbered. When -at last I was roused from my slumbers by a remote clamour, I felt active -and capable again. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. I rose to my -feet - I was a little stiff - and at once prepared to resume my search. I -shouldered my golden clubs, one on each shoulder, and went on out of the -ravine of the gold-veined rocks. - -The sun was certainly lower, much lower than it had been; the air was very -much cooler. I perceived I must have slept some time. It seemed to me that -a faint touch of misty blueness hung about the western cliff I leapt to a -little boss of rock and surveyed the crater. I could see no signs of -mooncalves or Selenites, nor could I see Cavor, but I could see my -handkerchief far off, spread out on its thicket of thorns. I looked bout -me, and then leapt forward to the next convenient view-point. - -I beat my round in a semicircle, and back again in a still remoter -crescent. It was very fatiguing and hopeless. The air was really very much -cooler, and it seemed to me that the shadow under the westward cliff was -growing broad. Ever and again I stopped and reconnoitred, but there was no -sign of Cavor, no sign of Selenites; and it seemed to me the mooncalves -must have been driven into the interior again - I could see none of them. -I became more and more desirous of being Cavor. The winged outline of the -sun had sunk now, until it was scarcely the distance of its diameter from -the rim of the sky. I was oppressed by the idea that the Selenites would -presently close their lids and valves, and shut us out under the -inexorable onrush of the lunar night. It seemed to me high time that he -abandoned his search, and that we took counsel together. I felt how urgent -it was that we should decide soon upon our course. We had failed to find -the sphere, we no longer had time to seek it, and once these valves were -closed with us outside, we were lost men. The great night of space would -descend upon us - that blackness of the void which is the only absolute -death. All my being shrank from that approach. We must get into the moon -again, though we were slain in doing it. I was haunted by a vision of our -freezing to death, of our hammering with our last strength on the valve of -the great pit. - -I took no thought any more of the sphere. I thought only of finding Cavor -again I was half inclined to go back into the moon without him, rather -than seek him until it was too late. I was already half-way back towards -our handkerchief, when suddenly - - -I saw the sphere! - -I did not find it so much as it found me. It was lying much farther to the -westward than I had gone, and the sloping rays of the sinking sun -reflected from its glass had suddenly proclaimed its presence in a -dazzling beam. For an instant I thought this was some new device of the -Selenites against us, and then I understood. - -I threw up my arms, shouted a ghostly shout, and set off in vast leaps -towards it. I missed one of my leaps and dropped into a deep ravine and -twisted my ankle, and after that I stumbled at almost every leap. I was -in a state of hysterical agitation, trembling violently, and quite -breathless long before I got to it. Three times at least I had to stop -with my hands resting on my side and spite of the thin dryness of the air, -the perspiration was wet upon my face. - -I thought of nothing but the sphere until I reached it, I forgot even my -trouble of Cavor's whereabouts. My last leap flung me with my hands hard -against its glass; then I lay against it panting, and trying vainly to -shout, "Cavor! here is the sphere!" When I had recovered a little I peered -through the thick glass, and the things inside seemed tumbled. I stooped -to peer closer. Then I attempted to get in. I had to hoist it over a -little to get my head through the manhole. The screw stopper was inside, -and I could see now that nothing had been touched, nothing had suffered. -It lay there as we had left it when we had dropped out amidst the snow. -For a time I was wholly occupied in making and remaking this inventory. I -found I was trembling violently. It was good to see that familiar dark -interior again! I cannot tell you how good. Presently I crept inside and -sat down among the things. I looked through the glass at the moon world -and shivered. I placed my gold clubs upon the table, and sought out and -took a little food; not so much because I wanted it, but because it was -there. Then it occurred to me that it was time to go out and signal for -Cavor. But I did not go out and signal for Cavor forthwith. Something -held me to the sphere. - -After all, everything was coming right. There would be still time for us -to get more of the magic stone that gives one mastery over men. Away -there, close handy, was gold for the picking up; and the sphere would -travel as well half full of gold as though it were empty. We could go -back now, masters of ourselves and our world, and then - - -I roused myself at last, and with an effort got myself out of the sphere. -I shivered as I emerged, for the evening air was growing very cold. I -stood in the hollow staring about me. I scrutinised the bushes round me -very carefully before I leapt to the rocky shelf hard by, and took once -more what had been my first leap in the moon. But now I made it with no -effort whatever. - -The growth and decay of the vegetation had gone on apace, and the whole -aspect of the rocks had changed, but still it was possible to make out the -slope on which the seeds had germinated, and the rocky mass from which we -had taken our first view of the crater. But the spiky shrub on the slope -stood brown and sere now, and thirty feet high, and cast long shadows that -stretched out of sight, and the little seeds that clustered in its upper -branches were brown and ripe. Its work was done, and it was brittle and -ready to fall and crumple under the freezing air, so soon as the nightfall -came. And the huge cacti, that had swollen as we watched them, had long -since burst and scattered their spores to the four quarters of the moon. -Amazing little corner in the universe - the landing place of men! - -Some day, thought I, I will have an inscription standing there right in -the midst of the hollow. It came to me, if only this teeming world within -knew of the full import of the moment, how furious its tumult would -become! - -But as yet it could scarcely be dreaming of the significance of our -coming. For if it did, the crater would surely be an uproar of pursuit, -instead of as still as death! I looked about for some place from which I -might signal Cavor, and saw that same patch of rock to which he had leapt -from my present standpoint, still bare and barren in the sun. For a moment -I hesitated at going so far from the sphere. Then with a pang of shame at -that hesitation, I leapt. ... - -From this vantage point I surveyed the crater again. Far away at the top -of the enormous shadow I cast was the little white handkerchief fluttering -on the bushes. It was very little and very far, and Cavor was not in -sight. It seemed to me that by this time he ought to be looking for me. -That was the agreement. But he was nowhere to be seen. - -I stood waiting and watching, hands shading my eyes, expecting every -moment to distinguish him. Very probably I stood there for quite a long -time. I tried to shout, and was reminded of the thinness of the air. I -made an undecided step back towards the sphere. But a lurking dread of -the Selenites made me hesitate to signal my whereabouts by hoisting one of -our sleeping-blankets on to the adjacent scrub. I searched the crater -again. - -It had an effect of emptiness that chilled me. And it was still; Any sound -from the Selenites in the world beneath, even had died away. It was as -still as death. Save for the faint stir of the shrub about me in the -little breeze that was rising, there was no sound nor shadow of a sound. -And the breeze blew chill. - -Confound Cavor! - -I took a deep breath. I put my hands to the sides of my mouth. "Cavor!" I -bawled, and the sound was like some manikin shouting far away. - -I looked at the handkerchief, I looked behind me at the broadening shadow -of the westward cliff I looked under my hand at the sun. It seemed to me -that almost visibly it was creeping down the sky. I felt I must act -instantly if I was to save Cavor. I whipped off my vest and flung it as a -mark on the sere bayonets of the shrubs behind me, and then set off in a -straight line towards the handkerchief. Perhaps it was a couple of miles -away - a matter of a few hundred leaps and strides. I have already told -how one seemed to hang through those lunar leaps. In each suspense I -sought Cavor, and marvelled why he should be hidden. In each leap I could -feel the sun setting behind me. Each time I touched the ground I was -tempted to go back. - -A last leap and I was in the depression below our handkerchief, a stride, -and I stood on our former vantage point within arms' reach of it. I stood -up straight and scanned the world about me, between its lengthening bars -of shadow. Far away, down a long declivity, was the opening of the tunnel -up which we had fled, and my shadow reached towards it, stretched towards -it, and touched it, like a finger of the night. - -Not a sign of Cavor, not a sound in all the stillness, only the stir and -waving of the scrub and of the shadows increased. And suddenly and -violently I shivered. "Cav-" I began, and realised once more the -uselessness of the human voice in that thin air. Silence. The silence of -death. - -Then it was my eye caught something - a little thing lying, perhaps fifty -yards away down the slope, amidst a litter of bent and broken branches. -What was it? I knew, and yet for some reason I would not know. I went -nearer to it. It was the little cricket-cap Cavor had worn. I did not -touch it, I stood looking at it. - -I saw then that the scattered branches about it had been forcibly smashed -and trampled. I hesitated, stepped forward, and picked it up. - -I stood with Cavor's cap in my hand, staring at the trampled reeds and -thorns about me. On some, of them were little smears of something dark, -something that I dared not touch. A dozen yards away, perhaps, the rising -breeze dragged something into view, something small and vividly white. - -It was a little piece of paper crumpled tightly, as though it had been -clutched tightly. I picked it up, and on it were smears of red. My eye -caught faint pencil marks. I smoothed it out, and saw uneven and broken -writing ending at last in a crooked streak up on the paper. - -I set myself to decipher this. - -"I have been injured about the knee, I think my kneecap is hurt, and I -cannot run or crawl," it began - pretty distinctly written. - -Then less legibly: "They have been chasing me for some time, and it is -only a question of" - the word "time" seemed to have been written here and -erased in favour of something illegible - "before they get me. They are -beating all about me." - -Then the writing became convulsive. "I can hear them," I guessed the -tracing meant, and then it was quite unreadable for a space. Then came a -little string of words that were quite distinct: "a different sort of -Selenite altogether, who appears to be directing the" The writing became a -mere hasty confusion again. - -"They have larger brain cases - much larger, and slenderer bodies, and -very short legs. They make gentle noises, and move with organized -deliberation... - -"And though I am wounded and helpless here, their appearance still gives -me hope " That was like Cavor. "They have not shot at me or attempted... -injury. I intend -" - -Then came the sudden streak of the pencil across the paper, and on the -back and edges - blood! - -And as I stood there stupid, and perplexed, with this dumbfounding relic -in my hand, something very soft and light and chill touched my hand for a -moment and ceased to be, and then a thing, a little white speck, drifted -athwart a shadow. It was a tiny snowflake, the first snowflake, the herald -of the night. - -I looked up with a start, and the sky had darkened almost to blackness, -and was thick with a gathering multitude of coldly watchful stars. I -looked eastward, and the light of that shrivelled world was touched with -sombre bronze; westward, and the sun robbed now by a thickening white mist -of half its heat and splendour, was touching the crater rim, was sinking -out of sight, and all the shrubs and jagged and tumbled rocks stood out -against it in a bristling disorder of black shapes. Into the great lake -of darkness westward, a vast wreath of mist was sinking. A cold wind set -all the crater shivering. Suddenly, for a moment, I was in a puff of -falling snow, and all the world about me gray and dim. - -And then it was I heard, not loud and penetrating as at first, but faint -and dim like a dying voice, that tolling, that same tolling that had -welcomed the coming of the day: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... - -It echoed about the crater, it seemed to throb with the throbbing of the -greater stars, the blood-red crescent of the sun's disc sank as it tolled -out: Boom!... Boom!... Boom! ... - -What had happened to Cavor? All through that tolling I stood there -stupidly, and at last the tolling ceased. - -And suddenly the open mouth of the tunnel down below there, shut like an -eye and vanished out of sight. - -Then indeed was I alone. - -Over me, around me, closing in on me, embracing me ever nearer, was the -Eternal; that which was before the beginning, and that which triumphs over -the end; that enormous void in which all light and life and being is but -the thin and vanishing splendour of a falling star, the cold, the -stillness, the silence - the infinite and final Night of space. - -The sense of solitude and desolation became the sense of an overwhelming -presence that stooped towards me, that almost touched me. - -"No," I cried. "No! Not yet! not yet! Wait! Wait! Oh, wait!" My voice -went up to a shriek. I flung the crumpled paper from me, scrambled back -to the crest to take my bearings, and then, with all the will that was in -me, leapt out towards the mark I had left, dim and distant now in the very -margin of the shadow. - -Leap, leap, leap, and each leap was seven ages. - -Before me the pale serpent-girdled section of the sun sank and sank, and -the advancing shadow swept to seize the sphere before I could reach it. I -was two miles away, a hundred leaps or more, and the air about me was -thinning out as it thins under an air-pump, and the cold was gripping at -my joints. But had I died, I should have died leaping. Once, and then -again my foot slipped on the gathering snow as I leapt and shortened my -leap; once I fell short into bushes that crashed and smashed into dusty -chips and nothingness, and once I stumbled as I dropped and rolled head -over heels into a gully, and rose bruised and bleeding and confused as to -my direction. - -But such incidents were as nothing to the intervals, those awful pauses -when one drifted through the air towards that pouring tide of night. My -breathing made a piping noise, and it was as though knives were whirling -in my lungs. My heart seemed to beat against the top of my brain. "Shall I -reach it? O Heaven! Shall I reach it?" - -My whole being became anguish. - -"Lie down!" screamed my pain and despair; "lie down!" - -The near I struggled, the more awfully remote it seemed. I was numb, I -stumbled, I bruised and cut myself and did not bleed. - -It was in sight. - -I fell on all fours, and my lungs whooped. - -I crawled. The frost gathered on my lips, icicles hung from my moustache, -I was white with the freezing atmosphere. - -I was a dozen yards from it. My eyes had become dim. "Lie down!" screamed -despair; "lie down!" - -I touched it, and halted. "Too late!" screamed despair; "lie down!" - -I fought stiffly with it. I was on the manhole lip, a stupefied, half-dead -being. The snow was all about me. I pulled myself in. There lurked within -a little warmer air. - -The snowflakes - the airflakes - danced in about me, as I tried with -chilling hands to thrust the valve in and spun it tight and hard. I -sobbed. "I will," I chattered in my teeth. And then, with fingers that -quivered and felt brittle, I turned to the shutter studs. - -As I fumbled with the switches - for I had never controlled them before - -I could see dimly through the steaming glass the blazing red streamers of -the sinking sun, dancing and flickering through the snowstorm, and the -black forms of the scrub thickening and bending and breaking beneath the -accumulating snow. Thicker whirled the snow and thicker, black against -the light. What if even now the switches overcame me? Then something -clicked under my hands, and in an instant that last vision of the moon -world was hidden from my eyes. I was in the silence and darkness the -inter-planetary sphere. - - - - - -Chapter 20 - - - - -Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space - -IT was almost as though I had been killed. Indeed, I could imagine a man -suddenly and violently killed would feel very much as I did. One moment, a -passion of agonising existence and fear; the next darkness and stillness, -neither light nor life nor sun, moon nor stars, the blank infinite. -Although the thing was done by my own act, although I had already tasted -this very of effect in Cavor's company, I felt astonished, dumbfounded, -and overwhelmed. I seemed to be borne upward into an enormous darkness. My -fingers floated off the studs, I hung as if I were annihilated, and at -last very softly and gently I came against the bale and the golden chain, -and the crowbars that had drifted to the middle of the sphere. - -I do not know how long that drifting took. In the sphere of course, even -more than on the moon, one's earthly time sense was ineffectual. At the -touch of the bale it was as if I had awakened from a dreamless sleep. I -immediately perceived that if I wanted to keep awake and alive I must get -a light or open a window, so as to get a grip of something with my eyes. -And besides, I was cold. I kicked off from the bale, therefore, clawed on -to the thin cords within the glass, crawled along until I got to the -manhole rim, and so got my bearings for the light and blind studs, took a -shove off, and flying once round the bale, and getting a scare from -something big and flimsy that was drifting loose, I got my hand on the -cord quite close to the studs, and reached them. I lit the little lamp -first of all to see what it was I had collided with, and discovered that -old copy of Lloyd's News had slipped its moorings, and was adrift in the -void. That brought me out of the infinite to my own proper dimensions -again. It made me laugh and pant for a time, and suggested the idea of a -little oxygen from one of the cylinders. After that I lit the heater until -I felt warm, and then I took food. Then I set to work in a very gingerly -fashion on the Cavorite blinds, to see if I could guess by any means how -the sphere was travelling. - -The first blind I opened I shut at once, and hung for a time flattened and -blinded by the sunlight that had hit me. After thinking a little I started -upon the windows at right angles to this one, and got the huge crescent -moon and the little crescent earth behind it, the second time. I was -amazed to find how far I was from the moon. I had reckoned that not only -should I have little or none of the "kick-off" that the earth's atmosphere -had given us at our start, but that the tangential "fly off" of the moon's -spin would be at least twenty-eight times less than the earth's. I had -expected to discover myself hanging over our crater, and on the edge of -the night, but all that was now only a part of the outline of the white -crescent that filled the sky. And Cavor - ? - -He was already infinite. - -I tried to imagine what could have happened to him. But at that time I -could think of nothing but death. I seemed to see him, bent and smashed -at the foot of some interminably high cascade of blue. And all about him -the stupid insects stared... - -Under the inspiring touch of the drifting newspaper I became practical -again for a while. It was quite clear to me that what I had to do was to -get back to earth, but as far as I could see I was drifting away from it. -Whatever had happened to Cavor, even if he was still alive, which seemed -to me incredible after that blood-stained scrap, I was powerless to help -him. There he was, living or dead behind the mantle of that rayless night, -and there he must remain at least until I could summon our fellow men to -his assistance. Should I do that? Something of the sort I had in my mind; -to come back to earth if it were possible, and then as maturer -consideration might determine, either to show and explain the sphere to a -few discreet persons, and act with them, or else to keep my secret, sell -my gold,, obtain weapons, provisions, and an assistant, and return with -these advantages to deal on equal terms with the flimsy people of the -moon, to rescue Cavor, if that were still possible, and at any rate to -procure a sufficient supply of gold to place my subsequent proceedings on -a firmer basis. But that was hoping far; I had first to get back. - -I set myself to decide just exactly how the return to earth could be -contrived. As I struggled with that problem I ceased to worry about what I -should do when I got there. At last my only care was to get back. - -I puzzled out at last that my best chance would be to drop back towards -the moon as near as I dared in order to gather velocity, then to shut my -windows, and fly behind it, and when I was past to open my earthward -windows, and so get off at a good pace homeward. But whether I should ever -reach the earth by that device, or whether I might not simply find myself -spinning about it in some hyperbolic or parabolic curve or other, I could -not tell. Later I had a happy inspiration, and by opening certain windows -to the moon, which had appeared in the sky in front of the earth, I turned -my course aside so as to head off the earth, which it had become evident -to me I must pass behind without some such expedient. I did a very great -deal of complicated thinking over these, problems - for I am no -mathematician - and in the end I am certain it was much more my good luck -than my reasoning that enabled me to hit the earth. Had I known then, as I -know now, the mathematical chances there were against me, I doubt if I -should have troubled even to touch the studs to make any attempt. And -having puzzled out what I considered to be the thing to do, I opened all -my moonward windows, and squatted down - the effort lifted me for a time -some feet or so into the air, and I hung there in the oddest way - and -waited for the crescent to get bigger and bigger until I felt I was near -enough for safety. Then I would shut the windows, fly past the moon with -the velocity I had got from it - if I did not smash upon it - and so go on -towards the earth. - -And that is what I did. - -At last I felt my moonward start was sufficient. I shut out the sight of -the moon from my eyes, and in a state of mind that was, I now recall, -incredibly free from anxiety or any distressful quality, I sat down to -begin a vigil in that little speck of matter in infinite space that would -last until I should strike the earth. The heater had made the sphere -tolerably warm, the air had been refreshed by the oxygen, and except for -that faint congestion of the head that was always with me while I was away -from earth, I felt entire physical comfort. I had extinguished the light -again, lest it should fail me in the end; I was in darkness, save for the -earthshine and the glitter of the stars below me. Everything was so -absolutely silent and still that I might indeed have been the only being -in the universe, and yet, strangely enough, I had no more feeling of -loneliness or fear than if I had been lying in bed on earth. Now, this -seems all the stranger to me, since during my last hours in that crater of -the moon, the sense of my utter loneliness had been an agony. ... - -Incredible as it will seem, this interval of time that I spent in space -has no sort of proportion to any other interval of time in my life. -Sometimes it seemed as though I sat through immeasurable eternities like -some god upon a lotus leaf, and again as though there was a momentary -pause as I leapt from moon to earth. In truth, it was altogether some -weeks of earthly time. But I had done with care and anxiety, hunger or -fear, for that space. I floated, thinking with a strange breadth and -freedom of all that we had undergone, and of all my life and motives, and -the secret issues of my being. I seemed to myself to have grown greater -and greater, to have lost all sense of movement; to be floating amidst the -stars, and always the sense of earth's littleness and the infinite -littleness of my life upon it, was implicit in my thoughts. - -I can't profess to explain the things that happened in my mind. No doubt -they could all be traced directly or indirectly to the curious physical -conditions under which I was living. I set them down here just for what -they are worth, and without any comment. The most prominent quality of it -was a pervading doubt of my own identity. I became, if I may so express -it, dissociate from Bedford; I looked down on Bedford as a trivial, -incidental thing with which I chanced to be connected. I saw Bedford in -many relations - as an ass or as a poor beast, where I had hitherto been -inclined to regard him with a quiet pride as a very spirited or rather -forcible person. I saw him not only as an ass, but as the son of many -generations of asses. I reviewed his school-days and his early manhood, -and his first encounter with love, very much as one might review the -proceedings of an ant in the sand. Something of that period of lucidity I -regret still hangs about me, and I doubt if I shall ever recover the -full-bodied self satisfaction of my early days. But at the time the thing -was not in the least painful, because I had that extraordinary persuasion -that, as a matter of fact, I was no more Bedford than I was any one else, -but only a mind floating in the still serenity of space. Who should I be -disturbed about this Bedford's shortcomings? I was not responsible for him -or them. - -For a time I struggled against this really very grotesque delusion. I -tried to summon the memory of vivid moments, of tender or intense emotions -to my assistance; I felt that if I could recall one genuine twinge of -feeling the growing severance would be stopped. But I could not do it. I -saw Bedford rushing down Chancery Lane, hat on the back of his head, coat -tails flying out, en route for his public examination. I saw him dodging -and bumping against, and even saluting, other similar little creatures in -that swarming gutter of people. Me? I saw Bedford that same evening in the -sitting-room of a certain lady, and his hat was on the table beside him, -and it wanted brushing badly, and he was in tears. Me? I saw him with that -lady in various attitudes and emotions - I never felt so detached before. -... I saw him hurrying off to Lympne to write a play, and accosting Cavor, -and in his shirt sleeves working at the sphere, and walking out to -Canterbury because he was afraid to come! Me? I did not believe it. - -I still reasoned that all this was hallucination due to my solitude, and -the fact that I had lost all weight and sense of resistance. I endeavoured -to recover that sense by banging myself about the sphere, by pinching my -hands and clasping them together. Among other things, I lit the light, -captured that torn copy of Lloyd's, and read those convincingly realistic -advertisements about the Cutaway bicycle, and the gentleman of private -means, and the lady in distress who was selling those "forks and spoons." -There was no doubt they existed surely enough, and, said I, "This is your -world, and you are Bedford, and you are going back to live among things -like that for all the rest of your life." But the doubts within me could -still argue: "It is not you that is reading, it is Bedford, but you are -not Bedford, you know. That's just where the mistake comes in." - -"Confound it!" I cried; "and if I am not Bedford, what am I?" - -But in that direction no light was forthcoming, though the strangest -fancies came drifting into my brain, queer remote suspicions, like shadows -seen from away. Do you know, I had a sort of idea that really I was -something quite outside not only the world, but all worlds, and out of -space and time, and that this poor Bedford was just a peephole through -which I looked at life? ... - -Bedford! However I disavowed him, there I was most certainly bound up with -him, and I knew that wherever or whatever I might be, I must needs feel -the stress of his desires, and sympathise with all his joys and sorrows -until his life should end. And with the dying of Bedford - what then? ... - -Enough of this remarkable phase of my experiences! I tell it here simply -to show how one's isolation and departure from this planet touched not -only the functions and feeling of every organ of the body, but indeed also -the very fabric of the mind, with strange and unanticipated disturbances. -All through the major portion of that vast space journey I hung thinking -of such immaterial things as these, hung dissociated and apathetic, a -cloudy megalomaniac, as it were, amidst the stars and planets in the void -of space; and not only the world to which I was returning, but the -blue-lit caverns of the Selenites, their helmet faces, their gigantic and -wonderful machines, and the fate of Cavor, dragged helpless into that -world, seemed infinitely minute and altogether trivial things to me. - -Until at last I began to feel the pull of the earth upon my being, drawing -me back again to the life that is real for men. And then, indeed, it grew -clearer and clearer to me that I was quite certainly Bedford after all, -and returning after amazing adventures to this world of ours, and with a -life that I was very likely to lose in this return. I set myself to puzzle -out the conditions under which I must fall to earth. - - - - - -Chapter 21 - - - - -Mr. Bedford at Littlestone - -My line of flight was about parallel with the surface as I came into the -upper air. The temperature of sphere began to rise forthwith. I knew it -behoved me to drop at once. Far below me, in a darkling twilight, -stretched a great expanse of sea. I opened every window I could, and fell -- out of sunshine into evening, and out of evening into night. Vaster grew -the earth and vaster, swallowing up the stars, and the silvery translucent -starlit veil of cloud it wore spread out to catch me. At last the world -seemed no longer a sphere but flat, and then concave. It was no longer a -planet in the sky, but the world of Man. I shut all but an inch or so of -earthward window, and dropped with a slackening velocity. The broadening -water, now so near that I could see the dark glitter of the waves, rushed -up to meet me. The sphere became very hot. I snapped the last strip of -window, and sat scowling and biting my knuckles, waiting for the impact. -... - -The sphere hit the water with a huge splash: it must have sent it fathoms -high. At the splash I flung the Cavorite shutters open. Down I went, but -slower and slower, and then I felt the sphere pressing against my feet, -and so drove up again as a bubble drives. And at the last I was floating -and rocking upon the surface of the sea, and my journey in space was at an -end. - -The night was dark and overcast. Two yellow pinpoints far away showed the -passing of a ship, and nearer was a red glare that came and went. Had not -the electricity of my glow-lamp exhausted itself, I could have got picked -up that night. In spite of the inordinate fatigue I was beginning to feel, -I was excited now, and for a time hopeful, in a feverish, impatient way, -that so my travelling might end. - -But at last I ceased to move about, and sat, wrists on knees, staring at a -distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My excitement -passed. I realised I had yet to spend another night at least in the -sphere. I perceived myself infinitely heavy and fatigued. And so I fell -asleep. - -A change in my rhythmic motion awakened me. I peered through the -refracting glass, and saw that I had come aground upon a huge shallow of -sand. Far away I seemed to see houses and trees, and seaward a curve, -vague distortion of a ship hung between sea and sky. - -I stood up and staggered. My one desire was to emerge. The manhole was -upward, and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly I opened the manhole. At -last the air was singing in again as once it had sung out. But this time -I did not wait until the pressure was adjusted. In another moment I had -the weight of the window on my hands, and I was open, wide open, to the -old familiar sky of earth. - -The air hit me on the chest so that I gasped. I dropped the glass screw. I -cried out, put my hands to my chest, and sat down. For a time I was in -pain. Then I took deep breaths. At last I could rise and move about -again. - -I tried to thrust my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled over. -It was as though something had lugged my head down directly it emerged. I -ducked back sharply, or I should have been pinned face under water. Alter -some wriggling and shoving I managed to crawl out upon sand, over which -the retreating waves still came and went. - -I did not attempt to stand up. It seemed to me that my body must be -suddenly changed to lead. Mother Earth had her grip on me now - no -Cavorite intervening. I sat down heedless of the water that came over my -feet. - -It was dawn, a gray dawn, rather overcast but showing here and there a -long patch of greenish gray. Some way out a ship was lying at anchor, a -pale silhouette of a ship with one yellow light. The water came rippling -in in long shallow waves. Away to the right curved the land, a shingle -bank with little hovels, and at last a lighthouse, a sailing mark and a -point. Inland stretched a space of level sand, broken here and there by -pools of water, and ending a mile away perhaps in a low shore of scrub. To -the north-east some isolated watering-place was visible, a row of gaunt -lodging-houses, the tallest things that I could see on earth, dull dabs -against the brightening sky. What strange men can have reared these -vertical piles in such an amplitude of space I do not know. There they -are, like pieces of Brighton lost in the waste. - -For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. At last I -struggled to rise. It made me feel that I was lifting a weight. I stood -up. - -I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since our starvation in -the crater I thought of earthly food. "Bacon," I whispered, "eggs. Good -toast and good coffee. ... And how the devil am I going to all this stuff -to Lympne?" I wondered where I was. It was an east shore anyhow, and I -had seen Europe before I dropped. - -I heard footsteps scrunching in the sand, and a little round-faced, -friendly-looking man in flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped about his -shoulders, and his bathing dress over his arm, appeared up the beach. I -knew instantly that I must be in England. He was staring most intently at -the sphere and me. He advanced staring. I dare say I looked a ferocious -savage enough - dirty, unkempt, to an indescribable degree; but it did not -occur to me at the time. He stopped at a distance of twenty yards. -"Hul-lo, my man! " he said doubtfully. - -"Hullo yourself!" said I. - -He advanced, reassured by that. "What on earth is that thing? " he asked. - -"Can you tell me where I am?" I asked. - -"That's Littlestone," he said, pointing to the houses; "and that's -Dungeness! Have you just landed? What's that thing you've got? Some sort -of machine?" - -"Yes." - -"Have you floated ashore? Have you been wrecked or something? What is it?" - -I meditated swiftly. I made an estimate of the little man's appearance as -he drew nearer. "By Jove! " he said, "you've had a time of it! I thought -you - Well - Where were you cast away? Is that thing a sort of floating -thing for saving life?" - -I decided to take that line for the present. I made a few vague -affirmatives. "I want help," I said hoarsely. " I want to get some stuff -up the beach - stuff I can't very well leave about." I became aware of -three other pleasant-looking young men with towels, blazers, and straw -hats, coming down the sands towards me. Evidently the early bathing -section of this Littlestone. - -"Help!" said the young man: "rather!" He became vaguely active. "What -particularly do you want done? " He turned round and gesticulated. The -three young men accelerated their pace. In a minute they there about me, -plying me with questions I was indisposed to answer. "I'll tell all that -later," I said. "I'm dead beat. I'm a rag." - -"Come up to the hotel," said the foremost little man. "We'll look after -that thing there." - -I hesitated. "I can't," I said. "In that sphere there's two big bars of -gold." - -They looked incredulously at one another, then at me with a new inquiry. I -went to the sphere, stooped, crept in, and presently they had the -Selenites' crowbars and the broken chain before them. If I had not been so -horribly fagged I could have laughed at them. It was like kittens round a -beetle. They didn't know what to do with the stuff. The fat little man -stooped and lifted the end of one of the bars, and then dropped it with a -grunt. Then they all did. - -"It's lead, or gold!" said one. - -"Oh, it's gold!" said another. - -"Gold, right enough," said the third. - -Then they all stared at me, and then they all stared at the ship lying at -anchor. - -"I say!" cried the little man. "But where did you get that?" - -I was too tired to keep up a lie. "I got it in the moon." - -I saw them stare at one another. - -"Look here!" said I, "I'm not going to argue now. Help me carry these -lumps of gold up to the hotel - I guess, with rests, two of you can manage -one, and I'll trail this chain thing - and I'll tell you more when I've -had some food." - -"And how about that thing?" - -"It won't hurt there," I said. "Anyhow - confound it! - it must stop there -now. If the tide comes up, it will float all right." - -And in a state of enormous wonderment, these young men most obediently -hoisted my treasures on their shoulders, and with limbs that felt like -lead I headed a sort of procession towards that distant fragment of -"sea-front." Half-way there we were reinforced by two awe-stricken little -girls with spades, and later a lean little boy, with a penetrating sniff, -appeared. He was, I remember, wheeling a bicycle, and he accompanied us at -a distance of about a hundred yards on our right flank, and then I -suppose, gave us up as uninteresting, mounted his bicycle and rode off -over the level sands in the direction of the sphere. - -I glanced back after him. - -"He won't touch it," said the stout young man reassuringly, and I was only -too willing to be reassured. - -At first something of the gray of the morning was in my mind, but -presently the sun disengaged itself from the level clouds of the horizon -and lit the world, and turned the leaden sea to glittering waters. My -spirits rose. A sense of the vast importance of the things I had done and -had yet to do came with the sunlight into my mind. I laughed aloud as the -foremost man staggered under my gold. When indeed I took my place in the -world, how amazed the world would be! - -If it had not been for my inordinate fatigue, the landlord of the -Littlestone hotel would have been amusing, as he hesitated between my gold -and my respectable company on the one and my filthy appearance on the -other. But at last I found myself in a terrestrial bathroom once more with -warm water to wash myself with, and a change of raiment, preposterously -small indeed, but anyhow clean, that the genial little man had lent me. He -lent me a razor too, but I could not screw up my resolution to attack even -the outposts of the bristling beard that covered my face. - -I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a sort of languid appetite -- an appetite many weeks old and very decrepit - and stirred myself to -answer the questions of the four young men. And I told them the truth. - -"Well," said I, "as you press me - I got it in the moon." - -"The moon?" - -"Yes, the moon in the sky." - -"But how do you mean?" - -"What I say, confound it!" - -"Then you have just come from the moon?" - -"Exactly! through space - in that ball." And I took a delicious mouthful -of egg. I made a private note that when I went back to the moon I would -take a box of eggs. - -I could see clearly that they did not believe one word what I told them, -but evidently they considered me the most respectable liar they had ever -met. They glanced at one another, and then concentrated the fire of their -eyes on me. I fancy they expected a clue to me in the way I helped myself -to salt. They seemed to find something significant in my peppering my egg. -These strangely shaped masses of gold they had staggered under held their -minds. There the lumps lay in front of me, each worth thousands of pounds, -and as impossible for any one to steal as a house or a piece of land. As I -looked at their curious faces over my coffee-cup, I realised something of -the enormous wilderness of explanations into which I should have to wander -to render myself comprehensible again. - -"You don't really mean -" began the youngest young man, in the tone of one -who speaks to an obstinate child. - -"Just pass me that toast-rack," I said, and shut him up completely. - -"But look here, I say," began one of the others. "We're not going to -believe that, you know." - -"Ah, well," said I, and shrugged my shoulders. - -"He doesn't want to tell us," said the youngest young man in a stage -aside; and then, with an appearance of great sang-froid, " You don't mind -if I take a cigarette?" - -I waved him a cordial assent, and proceeded with my breakfast. Two of the -others went and looked out of the farther window and talked inaudibly. I -was struck by a thought. "The tide," I said, "is running out?" - -There was a pause, a doubt who should answer me. - -"It's near the ebb," said the fat little man. - -"Well, anyhow," I said, "it won't float far." - -I decapitated my third egg, and began a little speech. "Look here," I -said. " Please don't imagine I'm surly or telling you uncivil lies, or -anything of that sort. I'm forced almost, to be a little short and -mysterious. I can quite understand this is as queer as it can be, and -that your imaginations must be going it. I can assure you, you're in at a -memorable time. But I can't make it clear to you now - it's impossible. I -give you my word of honour I've come from the moon, and that's all I can -tell you. ... All the same, I'm tremendously obliged to you, you know, -tremendously. I hope that my manner hasn't in any way given you offence." - -"Oh, not in the least!" said the youngest young man affably. "We can quite -understand," and staring hard at me all the time, he heeled his chair back -until it very nearly upset, and recovered with some exertion. "Not a bit -of it," said the fat young man. - -"Don't you imagine that!" and they all got up and dispersed, and walked -about and lit cigarettes, and generally tried to show they were perfectly -amiable and disengaged, and entirely free from the slightest curiosity -about me and the sphere. "I'm going to keep an eye on that ship out there -all the same," I heard one of them remarking in an undertone. If only they -could have forced themselves to it, they would, I believe, even have gone -out and left me. I went on with my third egg. - -"The weather," the fat little man remarked presently, "has been immense, -has it not? I don't know when we have had such a summer." - -Phoo-whizz! Like a tremendous rocket! - -And somewhere a window was broken. ... - -"What's that?" said I. - -"It isn't - ?" cried the little man, and rushed to the corner window. - -All the others rushed to the window likewise. I sat staring at them. - -Suddenly I leapt up, knocked over my third egg, rushed for the window -also. I had just thought of something. "Nothing to be seen there," cried -the little man, rushing for the door. - -"It's that boy!" I cried, bawling in hoarse fury; "it's that accursed -boy!" and turning about I pushed the waiter aside - he was just bring me -some more toast - and rushed violently out of the room and down and out -upon the queer little esplanade in front of the hotel. - -The sea, which had been smooth, was rough now with hurrying cat's-paws, -and all about where the sphere had been was tumbled water like the wake of -a ship. Above, a little puff of cloud whirled like dispersing smoke, and -the three or four people on the beach were bring up with interrogative -faces towards the point of that unexpected report. And that was all! Boots -and waiter and the four young men in blazers came rushing out behind me. -Shouts came from windows and doors, and all sorts of worrying people came -into sight - agape. - -For a time I stood there, too overwhelmed by this new development to think -of the people. - -At first I was too stunned to see the thing as any definite disaster - I -was just stunned, as a man is by some accidental violent blow. It is only -afterwards he begins to appreciate his specific injury. - -"Good Lord!" - -I felt as though somebody was pouring funk out of a can down the back of -my neck. My legs became feeble. I had got the first intimation of what the -disaster meant for me. There was that confounded boy - sky high! I was -utterly left. There was the gold in the coffee-room - my only possession -on earth. How would it all work out? The general effect was of a gigantic -unmanageable confusion. - -"I say," said the voice of the little man behind. "I say, you know." - -I wheeled about, and there were twenty or thirty people, a sort of -irregular investment of people, all bombarding me with dumb interrogation, -with infinite doubt and suspicion. I felt the compulsion of their eyes -intolerably. I groaned aloud. - -"I can't! " I shouted. "I tell you I can't! I'm not equal to it! You must -puzzle and - and be damned to you!" - -I gesticulated convulsively. He receded a step as though I had threatened -him. I made a bolt through them into the hotel. I charged back into the -coffee-room, rang the bell furiously. I gripped the waiter as he entered. -"D'ye hear?" I shouted. "Get help and carry these bars up to my room right -away." - -He failed to understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A -scared-looking little old man in a green apron appeared, and further two -of the young men in flannels. I made a dash at them and commandeered their -services. As soon as the gold was in my room I felt free to quarrel. "Now -get out," I shouted; "all of you get out if you don't want to see a man go -mad before your eyes!" And I helped the waiter by the shoulder as he -hesitated in the doorway. And then, as soon as I had the door locked on -them all, I tore off the little man's clothes again, shied them right and -left, and got into bed forthwith. And there I lay swearing and panting and -cooling for a very long time. - -At last I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring up the round-eyed -waiter for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good cigars. -And these things being procured me, after an exasperating delay that drove -me several times to the bell, I locked the door again and proceeded very -deliberately to look entire situation in the face. - -The net result of the great experiment presented itself as an absolute -failure. It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was an absolute -collapse, and this was the final disaster. There was nothing for it but to -save myself, and as much as I could in the way of prospects from our -debacle. At one fatal crowning blow all my vague resolutions of return and -recovery had vanished. My intention of going back to the moon, of getting -a sphereful of gold, and afterwards of having a fragment of Cavorite -analysed and so recovering the great secret - perhaps, finally, even of -recovering Cavor's body - all these ideas vanished altogether. - -I was the sole survivor, and that was all. - -I think that going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had in -an emergency. I really believe I should either have got loose-headed or -done some indiscreet thing. But there, locked in and secure from all -interruptions, I could think out the position in all its bearings and make -my arrangements at leisure. - -Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He had -crawled into the sphere, meddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite -windows, and gone up. It was highly improbable he had screwed the manhole -stopper, and, even if he had, the chances were a thousand to one against -his getting back. It was fairly evident that he would gravitate with my -bales to somewhere near the middle of the sphere and remain there, and so -cease to be a legitimate terrestrial interest, however remarkable he might -seem to the inhabitants of some remote quarter of space. I very speedily -convinced myself on that point. And as for any responsibility I might have -in the matter, the more I reflected upon that, the clearer it became that -if only I kept quiet about things, I need not trouble myself about that. -If I was faced by sorrowing parents demanding their lost boy, I had merely -to demand my lost sphere - or ask them what they meant. At first I had had -a vision of weeping parents and guardians, and all sorts of complications; -but now I saw that I simply had to keep my mouth shut, and nothing in that -way could arise. And, indeed, the more I lay and smoked and thought, the -more evident became the wisdom of impenetrability. - -It is within the right of every British citizen, provided he does not -commit damage nor indecorum, to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, and -as ragged and filthy as he pleases, and with whatever amount of virgin -gold he sees fit to encumber himself, and no one has any right at all to -hinder and detain him in this procedure. I formulated that at last to -myself, and repeated it over as a sort of private Magna Charta of my -liberty. - -Once I had put that issue on one side, I could take up and consider in an -equable manner certain considerations I had scarcely dared to think of -before, namely, those arising out of the circumstances of my bankruptcy. -But now, looking at this matter calmly and at leisure, I could see that if -only I suppressed my identity by a temporary assumption of some less -well-known name, and if I retained the two months' beard that had grown -upon me, the risks of any annoyance from the spiteful creditor to whom I -have already alluded became very small indeed. From that to a definite -course of rational worldly action was plain sailing. It was all amazingly -petty, no doubt, but what was there remaining for me to do? - -Whatever I did I was resolved that I would keep myself level and right -side up. - -I ordered up writing materials, and addressed a letter to the New Romney -Bank - the nearest, the waiter informed me - telling the manager I wished -to open an account with him, and requesting him to send two trustworthy -persons properly authenticated in a cab with a good horse to fetch some -hundredweight of gold with which I happened to be encumbered. I signed the -letter "Blake," which seemed to me to be a thoroughly respectable sort of -name. This done, I got a Folkstone Blue Book, picked out an outfitter, and -asked him to send a cutter to measure me for a dark tweed suit, ordering -at the same time a valise, dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, hat (to -fit), and so forth; and from a watchmaker I also ordered a watch. And -these letters being despatched, I had up as good a lunch as the hotel -could give, and then lay smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as -possible, until in accordance with my instructions two duly authenticated -clerks came from the bank and weighed and took away my gold. After which I -pulled the clothes over my ears in order to drown any knocking, and went -very comfortably to sleep. - -I went to sleep. No doubt it was a prosaic thing for the first man back -from the moon to do, and I can imagine that the young and imaginative -reader will find my behaviour disappointing. But I was horribly fatigued -and bothered, and, confound it! what else was there to do? There certainly -was not the remotest chance of my being believed, if I had told my story -then, and it would certainly have subjected me to intolerable annoyances. -I went to sleep. When at last I woke up again I was ready to face the -world as I have always been accustomed to face it since I came to years of -discretion. And so I got away to Italy, and there it is I am writing this -story. If the world will not have it as fact, then the world may take it -as fiction. It is no concern of mine. - -And now that the account is finished, I am amazed to think how completely -this adventure is gone and done with. Everybody believes that Cavor was a -not very brilliant scientific experimenter who blew up his house and -himself at Lympne, and they explain the bang that followed my arrival at -Littlestone by a reference to the experiments with explosives that are -going on continually at the government establishment of Lydd, two miles -away. I must confess that hitherto I have not acknowledged my share in the -disappearance of Master Tommy Simmons, which was that little boy's name. -That, perhaps, may prove a difficult item of corroboration to explain -away. They account for my appearance in rags with two bars of indisputable -gold upon the Littlestone beach in various ingenious ways - it doesn't -worry me what they think of me. They say I have strung all these things -together to avoid being questioned too closely as to the source of my -wealth. I would like to see the man who could invent a story that would -hold together like this one. Well, they must take it as fiction - there it -is. - -I have told my story - and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries -of this terrestrial life again. Even if one has been to the moon, one has -still to earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi, on the scenario of -that play I sketched before Cavor came walking into my world, and I am -trying to piece my life together as it was before ever I saw him. I must -confess that I find it hard to keep my mind on the play when the moonshine -comes into my room. It is full moon here, and last night I was out on the -pergola for hours, staring away at the shining blankness that hides so -much. Imagine it! tables and chairs, and trestles and bars of gold! -Confound it! - if only one could hit on that Cavorite again! But a thing -like that doesn't come twice in a life. Here I am, a little better off -than I was at Lympne, and that is all. And Cavor has committed suicide in -a more elaborate way than any human being ever did before. So the story -closes as, finally and completely as a dream. It fits in so little with -all the other things of life, so much of it is so utterly remote from all -human experience, the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and these -weightless times, that indeed there are moments when, in spite of my moon -gold, I do more than half believe myself that the whole thing was a dream. -... - - - - - -Chapter 22 - - - - -The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee - -WHEN I had finished my account of my return to the earth at Littlestone, I -wrote, "The End," made a flourish, and threw my pen aside, fully believing -that the whole story of the First Men in the Moon was done. Not only had I -done this, but I had placed my manuscript in the hands of a literary -agent, had permitted it to be sold, had seen the greater portion of it -appear in the Strand Magazine, and was setting to work again upon the -scenario of the play I had commenced at Lympne before I realised that the -end was not yet. And then, following me from Amalfi to Algiers, there -reached me (it is now about six months ago) one of the most astounding -communications I have ever been fated to receive. Briefly, it informed me -that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a Dutch electrician, who has been experimenting -with certain apparatus akin to the apparatus used by Mr. Tesla in America, -in the hope of discovering some method of communication with Mars, was -receiving day by day a curiously fragmentary message in English, which was -indisputably emanating from Mr. Cavor in the moon. - -At first I thought the thing was an elaborate practical by some one who -had seen the manuscript of my narrative. I answered Mr. Wendigee -jestingly, but he replied in a manner that put such suspicion altogether -aside, and in a state of inconceivable excitement I hurried from Algiers -to the little observatory upon the St. Gothard in which he was working. In -the presence of his record and his appliances - and above all of the -messages from Cavor that were coming to hand - my lingering doubts -vanished. I decided at once to accept a proposal he made to me to remain -with him, assisting him to take down the record from day to day, and -endeavouring with him to send a message back to the moon. Cavor, we -learnt, was not only alive, but free, in the midst of an almost -inconceivable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, in the -blue darkness of the lunar caves. He was lamed, it seemed, but otherwise -in quite good health - in better health, he distinctly said, than he -usually enjoyed on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left no bad -effects. But curiously enough he seemed to be labouring under a conviction -that I was either dead in the moon crater or lost in the deep of space. - -His message began to be received by Mr. Wendigee when that gentleman was -engaged in quite a different investigation. The reader will no doubt -recall the little excitement that began the century, arising out an -announcement by Mr. Nikola Tesla, the American electrical celebrity, that -he had received a message from Mars. His announcement renewed attention to -fact that had long been familiar to scientific people, namely: that from -some unknown source in space, waves of electromagnetic disturbance, -entirely similar those used by Signor Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, -are constantly reaching the earth. Besides Tesla quite a number of other -observers have been engaged in perfecting apparatus for receiving and -recording these vibrations, though few would go so far to consider them -actual messages from some extraterrestrial sender. Among that few, -however, we must certainly count Mr. Wendigee. Ever since 1898 he had -devoted himself almost entirely to this subject, and being a man of ample -means he had erected an observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in a -position singularly adapted in every way for such observations. - -My scientific attainments, I must admit, are not great, but so far as they -enable me to judge, Mr. Wendigee's contrivances for detecting and -recording any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space are -singularly original and ingenious. And by a happy combination of -circumstances they were set up and in operation about two months before -Cavor made his first attempt to call up the earth. Consequently we have -fragments of his communication even from the beginning. Unhappily, they -are only fragments, and the most momentous of all the things that he had -to tell humanity - the instructions, that is, for the making of Cavorite, -if, indeed, he ever transmitted them - have throbbed themselves away -unrecorded into space. We never succeeded in getting a response back to -Cavor. He was unable to tell, therefore, what we had received or what we -had missed; nor, indeed, did he certainly know that any one on earth was -really aware of his efforts to reach us. And the persistence he displayed -in sending eighteen long descriptions of lunar affairs - as they would be -if we had them complete - shows how much his mind must have turned back -towards his native planet since he left it two years ago. - -You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been when he discovered -his record of electromagnetic disturbances interlaced by Cavor's -straightforward English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild journey -moonward, and suddenly - this English out of the void! - -It is well the reader should understand the conditions under which it -would seem these messages were sent. Somewhere within the moon Cavor -certainly had access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical -apparatus, and it would seem he rigged up - perhaps furtively - a -transmitting arrangement of the Marconi type. This he was able to operate -at irregular intervals: sometimes for only half an hour or so, sometimes -for three or four hours at a stretch. At these times he transmitted his -earthward message, regardless of the fact that the relative position of -the moon and points upon the earth's surface is constantly altering. As a -consequence of this and of the necessary imperfections of our recording -instruments his communication comes and goes in our records in an -extremely fitful manner; it becomes blurred; it "fades out" in a -mysterious and altogether exasperating way. And added to this is the fact -that he was not an expert operator; he had partly forgotten, or never -completely mastered, the code in general use, and as he became fatigued he -dropped words and misspelt in a curious manner. - -Altogether we have probably lost quite half of the communications he made, -and much we have is damaged, broken, and partly effaced. In the abstract -that follows the reader must be prepared therefore for a considerable -amount of break, hiatus, and change of topic. Mr. Wendigee and I are -collaborating in a complete and annotated edition of the Cavor record, -which we hope to publish, together with a detailed account of the -instruments employed, beginning with the first volume in January next. -That will be the full and scientific report, of which this is only the -popular transcript. But here we give at least sufficient to complete the -story I have told, and to give the broad outlines of the state of that -other world so near, so akin, and yet so dissimilar to our own. - - - - - -Chapter 23 - - - - -An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor - -THE two earlier messages of Mr. Cavor may very well be reserved for that -larger volume. They simply tell, with greater brevity and with a -difference in several details that is interesting, but not of any vital -importance, the bare facts of the making of the sphere and our departure -from the world. Throughout, Cavor speaks of me as a man who is dead, but -with a curious change of temper as he approaches our landing on the moon. -"Poor Bedford," he says of me, and "this poor young man "; and he blames -himself for inducing a young man, "by no means well equipped for such -adventures," to leave a planet "on which he was indisputably fitted to -succeed" on so precarious a mission. I think he underrates the part my -energy and practical capacity played in bringing about the realisation of -his theoretical sphere. "We arrived," he says, with no more account of our -passage through space than if we had made a journey of common occurrence -in a railway train. - -And then he becomes increasingly unfair to me. Unfair, indeed, to an -extent I should not have expected in a man trained in the search for -truth. Looking back over my previously written account of these things, I -must insist that I have been altogether juster to Cavor than he has been -to me. I have extenuated little and suppressed nothing. But his account -is:- - -"It speedily became apparent that the entire strangeness of our -circumstances and surroundings - great loss of weight, attenuated but -highly oxygenated air, consequent exaggeration of the results of muscular -effort, rapid development of weird plants from obscure spores, lurid sky - -was exciting my companion unduly. On the moon his character seemed to -deteriorate. He became impulsive, rash, and quarrelsome. In a little while -his folly in devouring some gigantic vesicles and his consequent -intoxication led to our capture by the Selenites - before we had had the -slightest opportunity of properly observing their ways. ..." - -(He says, you observe, nothing of his own concession to these same -"vesicles.") - -And he goes on from that point to say that "We came to a difficult passage -with them, and Bedford mistaking certain gestures of theirs" - pretty -gestures they were! - "gave way to a panic violence. He ran amuck, killed -three, and perforce I had to flee with him after the outrage. Subsequently -we fought with a number who endeavoured to bar our way, and slew seven or -eight more. It says much for the tolerance of these beings that on my -recapture I was not instantly slain. We made our way to the exterior and -separated in the crater of our arrival, to increase our chances of -recovering our sphere. But presently I came upon a body of Selenites, led -by two who were curiously different, even in form, from any of these we -had seen hitherto, with larger heads and smaller bodies, and much more -elaborately wrapped about. And after evading them for some time I fell -into a crevasse, cut my head rather badly, and displaced my patella, and, -finding crawling very painful, decided to surrender - if they would still -permit me to do so. This they did, and, perceiving my helpless condition, -carried me with them again into the moon. And of Bedford I have heard or -seen nothing more, nor, so far as I can gather, any Selenite. Either the -night overtook him in the crater, or else, which is more probable, he -found the sphere, and, desiring to steal a march upon me, made off with it -- only, I fear, to find it uncontrollable, and to meet a more lingering -fate in outer space." - -And with that Cavor dismisses me and goes on to more interesting topics. I -dislike the idea of seeming to use my position as his editor to deflect -his story in my own interest, but I am obliged to protest here against the -turn he gives these occurrences. He said nothing about that gasping -message on the blood-stained paper in which he told, or attempted to tell, -a very different story. The dignified self-surrender is an altogether new -view of the affair that has come to him, I must insist, since he began to -feel secure among the lunar people; and as for the "stealing a march" -conception, I am quite willing to let the reader decide between us on what -he has before him. I know I am not a model man - I have made no pretence -to be. But am I that? - -However, that is the sum of my wrongs. From this point I can edit Cavor -with an untroubled mind, for he mentions me no more. - -It would seem the Selenites who had come upon him carried him to some -point in the interior down "a great shaft" by means of what he describes -as "a sort of balloon." We gather from the rather confused passage in -which he describes this, and from a number of chance allusions and hints -in other and subsequent messages, that this "great shaft" is one of an -enormous system of artificial shafts that run, each from what is called a -lunar "crater," downwards for very nearly a hundred miles towards the -central portion of our satellite. These shafts communicate by transverse -tunnels, they throw out abysmal caverns and expand into great globular -places; the whole of the moon's substance for a hundred miles inward, -indeed, is a mere sponge of rock. "Partly," says Cavor, "this sponginess -is natural, but very largely it is due to the enormous industry of the -Selenites in the past. The enormous circular mounds of the excavated rock -and earth it is that form these great circles about the tunnels known to -earthly astronomers (misled by a false analogy) as volcanoes." - -It was down this shaft they took him, in this "sort of balloon" he speaks -of, at first into an inky blackness and then into a region of continually -increasing phosphorescence. Cavor's despatches show him to be curiously -regardless of detail for a scientific man, but we gather that this light -was due to the streams and cascades of water - "no doubt containing some -phosphorescent organism" - that flowed ever more abundantly downward -towards the Central Sea. And as he descended, he says, "The Selenites also -became luminous." And at last far below him he saw, as it were, a lake of -heatless fire, the waters of the Central Sea, glowing and eddying in -strange perturbation, "like luminous blue milk that is just on the boil." - -"This Lunar Sea," says Cavor, in a later passage "is not a stagnant ocean; -a solar tide sends it in a perpetual flow around the lunar axis, and -strange storms and boilings and rushings of its waters occur, and at times -cold winds and thunderings that ascend out of it into the busy ways of the -great ant-hill above. It is only when the water is in motion that it -gives out light; in its rare seasons of calm it is black. Commonly, when -one sees it, its waters rise and fall in an oily swell, and flakes and big -rafts of shining, bubbly foam drift with the sluggish, faintly glowing -current. The Selenites navigate its cavernous straits and lagoons in -little shallow boats of a canoe-like shape; and even before my journey to -the galleries about the Grand Lunar, who is Master of the Moon, I was -permitted to make a brief excursion on its waters. - -"The caverns and passages are naturally very tortuous. A large proportion -of these ways are known only to expert pilots among the fishermen, and not -infrequently Selenites are lost for ever in their labyrinths. In their -remoter recesses, I am told, strange creatures lurk, some of them terrible -and dangerous creatures that all the science of the moon has been unable -to exterminate. There is particularly the Rapha, an inextricable mass of -clutching tentacles that one hacks to pieces only to multiply; and the -Tzee, a darting creature that is never seen, so subtly and suddenly does -it slay..." - -He gives us a gleam of description. - -"I was reminded on this excursion of what I have read of the Mammoth -Caves; if only I had had a yellow flambeau instead of the pervading blue -light, and a solid-looking boatman with an oar instead of a scuttle-faced -Selenite working an engine at the back of the canoe, I could have imagined -I had suddenly got back to earth. The rocks about us were very various, -sometimes black, sometimes pale blue and veined, and once they flashed and -glittered as though we had come into a mine of sapphires. And below one -saw the ghostly phosphorescent fishes flash and vanish in the hardly less -phosphorescent deep. Then, presently, a long ultra-marine vista down the -turgid stream of one of the channels of traffic, and a landing stage, and -then, perhaps, a glimpse up the enormous crowded shaft of one of the -vertical ways. - -"In one great place heavy with glistening stalactites a number of boats -were fishing. We went alongside one of these and watched the long-armed -Selenites winding in a net. They were little, hunchbacked insects, with -very strong arms, short, bandy legs, and crinkled face-masks. As they -pulled at it that net seemed the heaviest thing I had come upon in the -moon; it was loaded with weights - no doubt of gold - and it took a long -time to draw, for in those waters the larger and more edible fish lurk -deep. The fish in the net came up like a blue moonrise - a blaze of -darting, tossing blue. - -"Among their catch was a many-tentaculate, evil-eyed black thing, -ferociously active, whose appearance they greeted with shrieks and -twitters, and which with quick, nervous movements they hacked to pieces by -means of little hatchets. All its dissevered limbs continued to lash and -writhe in a vicious manner. Afterwards, when fever had hold of me, I -dreamt again and again of that bitter, furious creature rising so vigorous -and active out of the unknown sea. It was the most active and malignant -thing of all the living creatures I have yet seen in this world inside the -moon. ... - -"The surface of this sea must be very nearly two hundred miles (if not -more) below the level of the moon's exterior; all the cities of the moon -lie, I learnt, immediately above this Central Sea, in such cavernous -spaces and artificial galleries as I have described, and they communicate -with the exterior by enormous vertical shafts which open invariably in -what are called by earthly astronomers the 'craters' of the moon. The lid -covering one such aperture I had already seen during the wanderings that -had preceded my capture. - -"Upon the condition of the less central portion of the moon I have not yet -arrived at very precise knowledge. There is an enormous system of caverns -in which the mooncalves shelter during the night; and there are abattoirs -and the like - in one of these it was that I and Bedford fought with the -Selenite butchers - and I have since seen balloons laden with meat -descending out of the upper dark. I have as yet scarcely learnt as much of -these things as a Zulu in London would learn about the British corn -supplies in the same time. It is clear, however, that these vertical -shafts and the vegetation of the surface must play an essential role in -ventilating and keeping fresh the atmosphere of the moon. At one time, and -particularly on my first emergence from my prison, there was certainly a -cold wind blowing down the shaft, and later there was a kind of sirocco -upward that corresponded with my fever. For at the end of about three -weeks I fell ill of an indefinable sort of fever, and in spite of sleep -and the quinine tabloids that very fortunately I had brought in my pocket, -I remained ill and fretting miserably, almost to the time when I was taken -into the presence of the Grand Lunar, who is Master of the Moon. - -"I will not dilate on the wretchedness of my condition," he remarks, " -during those days of ill-health." And he goes on with great amplitude with -details I omit here. "My temperature," he concludes, "kept abnormally high -for a long time, and I lost all desire for food. I had stagnant waking -intervals, and sleep tormented by dreams, and at one phase I was, I -remember, so weak as to be earth-sick and almost hysterical. I longed -almost intolerably for colour to break the everlasting blue..." - -He reverts again presently to the topic of this sponge caught lunar -atmosphere. I am told by astronomers and physicists that all he tells is -in absolute accordance with what was already known of the moon's -condition. Had earthly astronomers had the courage and imagination to -push home a bold induction, says Mr. Wendigee, they might have foretold -almost everything that Cavor has to say of the general structure of the -moon. They know now pretty certainly that moon and earth are not so much -satellite and primary as smaller and greater sisters, made out of one -mass, and consequently made of the same material. And since the density of -the moon is only three-fifths that of the earth, there can be nothing for -it but that she is hollowed out by a great system of caverns. There was no -necessity, said Sir Jabez Flap, F.R.S., that most entertaining exponent of -the facetious side of the stars, that we should ever have gone to the moon -to find out such easy inferences, and points the pun with an allusion to -Gruyere, but he certainly might have announced his knowledge of the -hollowness of the moon before. And if the moon is hollow, then the -apparent absence of air and water is, of course, quite easily explained. -The sea lies within at the bottom of the caverns, and the air travels -through the great sponge of galleries, in accordance with simple physical -laws. The caverns of the moon, on the whole, are very windy places. As the -sunlight comes round the moon the air in the outer galleries on that side -is heated, its pressure increases, some flows out on the exterior and -mingles with the evaporating air of the craters (where the plants remove -its carbonic acid), while the greater portion flows round through the -galleries to replace the shrinking air of the cooling side that the -sunlight has left. There is, therefore, a constant eastward breeze in the -air of the outer galleries, and an upflow during the lunar day up the -shafts, complicated, of course, very greatly by the varying shape of the -galleries, and the ingenious contrivances of the Selenite mind. ... - - - - - -Chapter 24 - - - - -The Natural History of the Selenites - -THE messages of Cavor from the sixth up to the sixteenth are for the most -part so much broken, and they abound so in repetitions, that they scarcely -form a consecutive narrative. They will be given in full, of course, in -the scientific report, but here it will be far more convenient to continue -simply to abstract and quote as in the former chapter. We have subjected -every word to a keen critical scrutiny, and my own brief memories and -impressions of lunar things have been of inestimable help in interpreting -what would otherwise have been impenetrably dark. And, naturally, as -living beings, our interest centres far more upon the strange community of -lunar insects in which he was living, it would seem, as an honoured guest -than upon the mere physical condition of their world. - -I have already made it clear, I think, that the Selenites I saw resembled -man in maintaining the erect attitude, and in having four limbs, and I -have compared the general appearance of their heads and the jointing of -their limbs to that of insects. I have mentioned, too, the peculiar -consequence of the smaller gravitation of the moon on their fragile -slightness. Cavor confirms me upon all these points. He calls them -"animals," though of course they fall under no division of the -classification of earthly creatures, and he points out "the insect type of -anatomy had, fortunately for men, never exceeded a relatively very small -size on earth." The largest terrestrial insects, living or extinct, do -not, as a matter of fact, measure 6 in. in length; "but here, against the -lesser gravitation of the moon, a creature certainly as much an insect as -vertebrate seems to have been able to attain to human and ultra-human -dimensions." - -He does not mention the ant, but throughout his allusions the ant is -continually being brought before my mind, in its sleepless activity, in -its intelligence and social organisation, in its structure, and more -particularly in the fact that it displays, in addition to the two forms, -the male and the female form, that almost all other animals possess, a -number of other sexless creatures, workers, soldiers, and the like, -differing from one another in structure, character, power, and use, and -yet all members of the same species. For these Selenites, also, have a -great variety of forms. Of course, they are not only colossally greater in -size than ants, but also, in Cavor's opinion at least, in intelligence, -morality, and social wisdom are they colossally greater than men. And -instead of the four or five different forms of ant that are found, there -are almost innumerably different forms of Selenite. I had endeavoured to -indicate the very considerable difference observable in such Selenites of -the outer crust as I happened to encounter; the differences in size and -proportions were certainly as wide as the differences between the most -widely separated races of men. But such differences as I saw fade -absolutely to nothing in comparison with the huge distinctions of which -Cavor tells. It would seem the exterior Selenites I saw were, indeed, -mostly engaged in kindred occupations - mooncalf herds, butchers, -fleshers, and the like. But within the moon, practically unsuspected by -me, there are, it seems, a number of other sorts of Selenite, differing in -size, differing in the relative size of part to part, differing in power -and appearance, and yet not different species of creatures, but only -different forms of one species, and retaining through all their variations -a certain common likeness that marks their specific unity. The moon is, -indeed, a sort of vast ant-hill, only, instead of there being only four or -five sorts of ant, there are many hundred different sorts of Selenite, and -almost every gradation between one sort and another. - -It would seem the discovery came upon Cavor very speedily. I infer rather -than learn from his narrative that he was captured by the mooncalf herds -under the direction of these other Selenites who "have larger brain cases -(heads?) and very much shorter legs." Finding he would not walk even under -the goad, they carried him into darkness, crossed a narrow, plank-like -bridge that may have been the identical bridge I had refused, and put him -down in something that must have seemed at first to be some sort of lift. -This was the balloon - it had certainly been absolutely invisible to us in -the darkness - and what had seemed to me a mere plank-walking into the -void was really, no doubt, the passage of the gangway. In this he -descended towards constantly more luminous caverns of the moon. At first -they descended in silence - save for the twitterings of the Selenites - -and then into a stir of windy movement. In a little while the profound -blackness had made his eyes so sensitive that he began to see more and -more of the things about him, and at last the vague took shape. - -"Conceive an enormous cylindrical space," says Cavor, in his seventh -message, " a quarter of a mile across, perhaps; very dimly lit at first -and then brighter, with big platforms twisting down its sides in a spiral -that vanishes at last below in a blue profundity; and lit even more -brightly - one could not tell how or why. Think of the well of the very -largest spiral staircase or lift-shaft that you have ever looked down, and -magnify that by a hundred. Imagine it at twilight seen through blue glass. -Imagine yourself looking down that; only imagine also that you feel -extraordinarily light, and have got rid of any giddy feeling you might -have on earth, and you will have the first conditions of my impression. -Round this enormous shaft imagine a broad gallery running in a much -steeper spiral than would be credible on earth, and forming a steep road -protected from the gulf only by a little parapet that vanishes at last in -perspective a couple of miles below. - -"Looking up, I saw the very fellow of the downward vision; it had, of -course, the effect of looking into a very steep cone. A wind was blowing -down the shaft, and far above I fancy I heard, growing fainter and -fainter, the bellowing of the mooncalves that were being driven down again -from their evening pasturage on the exterior. And up and down the spiral -galleries were scattered numerous moon people, pallid, faintly luminous -beings, regarding our appearance or busied on unknown errands. - -"Either I fancied it or a flake of snow came drifting down on the icy -breeze. And then, falling like a snowflake, a little figure, a little -man-insect, clinging to a parachute, drove down very swiftly towards the -central places of the moon. - -"The big-headed Selenite sitting beside me, seeing me move my head with -the gesture of one who saw, pointed with his trunk-like 'hand' and -indicated a sort of jetty coming into sight very far below: a little -landing-stage, as it were, hanging into the void. As it swept up towards -us our pace diminished very rapidly, and in a few moments, as it seemed, -we were abreast of it, and at rest. A mooring-rope was flung and grasped, -and I found myself pulled down to a level with a great crowd of Selenites, -who jostled to see me. - -"It was an incredible crowd. Suddenly and violently there was forced upon -my attention the vast amount of difference there is amongst these beings -of the moon. - -"Indeed, there seemed not two alike in all that jostling multitude. They -differed in shape, they differed in size, they rang all the horrible -changes on the theme of Selenite form! Some bulged and overhung, some ran -about among the feet of their fellows. All of them had a grotesque and -disquieting suggestion of an insect that has somehow contrived to mock -humanity; but all seemed to present an incredible exaggeration of some -particular feature: one had a vast right fore-limb, an enormous antennal -arm, as it were; one seemed all leg, poised, as it were, on stilts; -another protruded the edge of his face mask into a nose-like organ that -made him startlingly human until one saw his expressionless gaping mouth. -The strange and (except for the want of mandibles and palps) most -insect-like head of the mooncalf-minders underwent, indeed, the most -incredible transformations: here it was broad and low, here high and -narrow; here its leathery brow was drawn out into horns and strange -features; here it was whiskered and divided, and there with a grotesquely -human profile. One distortion was particularly conspicuous. There were -several brain cases distended like bladders to a huge size, with the face -mask reduced to quite small proportions. There were several amazing forms, -with heads reduced to microscopic proportions and blobby bodies; and -fantastic, flimsy things that existed, it would seem, only as a basis for -vast, trumpet-like protrusions of the lower part of the mask. And oddest -of all, as it seemed to me for the moment, two or three of these weird -inhabitants of a subterranean world, a world sheltered by innumerable -miles of rock from sun or rain, carried umbrellas in their tentaculate -hands - real terrestrial looking umbrellas! And then I thought of the -parachutist I had watched descend. - -"These moon people behaved exactly as a human crowd might have done in -similar circumstances: they jostled and thrust one another, they shoved -one another aside, they even clambered upon one another to get a glimpse -of me. Every moment they increased in numbers, and pressed more urgently -upon the discs of my ushers" - Cavor does not explain what he means by -this - "every moment fresh shapes emerged from the shadows and forced -themselves upon my astounded attention. And presently I was signed and -helped into a sort of litter, and lifted up on the shoulders of -strong-armed bearers, and so borne through the twilight over this seething -multitude towards the apartments that were provided for me in the moon. -All about me were eyes, faces, masks, a leathery noise like the rustling -of beetle wings, and a great bleating and cricket-like twittering of -Selenite voices. - -We gather he was taken to a "hexagonal apartment," and there for a space -he was confined. Afterwards he was given a much more considerable liberty; -indeed, almost as much freedom as one has in a civilised town on earth. -And it would appear that the mysterious being who is the ruler and master -of the moon appointed two Selenites "with large heads" to guard and study -him, and to establish whatever mental communications were possible with -him. And, amazing and incredible as it may seem, these two creatures, -these fantastic men insects, these beings of other world, were presently -communicating with Cavor by means of terrestrial speech. - -Cavor speaks of them as Phi-oo and Tsi-puff. Phi-oo, he says, was about 5 -ft. high; he had small slender legs about 18 in. long, and slight feet of -the common lunar pattern. On these balanced a little body, throbbing with -the pulsations of his heart. He had long, soft, many-jointed arms ending -in a tentacled grip, and his neck was many-jointed in the usual way, but -exceptionally short and thick. His head, says Cavor - apparently alluding -to some previous description that has gone astray in space - "is of the -common lunar type, but strangely modified. The mouth has the usual -expressionless gape, but it is unusually small and pointing downward, and -the mask is reduced to the size of a large flat nose-flap. On either side -are the little eyes. - -"The rest of the head is distended into a huge globe and the chitinous -leathery cuticle of the mooncalf herds thins out to a mere membrane, -through which the pulsating brain movements are distinctly visible. He in -is a creature, indeed, with a tremendously hypertrophied brain, and with -the rest of his organism both relatively and absolutely dwarfed." - -In another passage Cavor compares the back view of him to Atlas supporting -the world. Tsi-puff it seems was a very similar insect, but his "face" was -drawn out to a considerable length, and the brain hypertrophy being in -different regions, his head was not round but pear-shaped, with the stalk -downward. There were also litter-carriers, lopsided beings, with enormous -shoulders, very spidery ushers, and a squat foot attendant in Cavor's -retinue. - -The manner in which Phi-oo and Tsi-puff attacked the problem of speech was -fairly obvious. They came into this " hexagonal cell" in which Cavor was -confined, and began imitating every sound he made, beginning with a cough. -He seems to have grasped their intention with great quickness, and to have -begun repeating words to them and pointing to indicate the application. -The procedure was probably always the same. Phi-oo would attend to Cavor -for a space, then point also and say the word he had heard. - -The first word he mastered was "man," and the second "Mooney" - which -Cavor on the spur of the moment seems to have used instead of "Selenite" -for the moon race. As soon as Phi-oo was assured of the meaning of a word -he repeated it to Tsi-puff, who remembered it infallibly. They mastered -over one hundred English nouns at their first session. - -Subsequently it seems they brought an artist with them to assist the work -of explanation with sketches and diagrams - Cavor's drawings being rather -crude. he was, says Cavor, "a being with an active arm and an arresting -eye," and he seemed to draw with incredible swiftness. - -The eleventh message is undoubtedly only a fragment of a longer -communication. After some broken sentences, the record of which is -unintelligible, it goes on:- - -"But it will interest only linguists, and delay me too long, to give the -details of the series of intent parleys of which these were the beginning, -and, indeed, I very much doubt if I could give in anything like the proper -order all the twistings and turnings that we made in our pursuit of mutual -comprehension. Verbs were soon plain sailing - at least, such active verbs -as I could express by drawings; some adjectives were easy, but when it -came to abstract nouns, to prepositions, and the sort of hackneyed figures -of speech, by means of which so much is expressed on earth, it was like -diving in cork-jackets. Indeed, these difficulties were insurmountable -until to the sixth lesson came a fourth assistant, a being with a huge -football-shaped head, whose forte was clearly the pursuit of intricate -analogy. He entered in a preoccupied manner, stumbling against a stool, -and the difficulties that arose had to be presented to him with a certain -amount of clamour and hitting and pricking before they reached his -apprehension. But once he was involved his penetration was amazing. -Whenever there came a need of thinking beyond Phi-oo's by no means limited -scope, this prolate-headed person was in request, but he invariably told -the conclusion to Tsi-puff, in order that it might be remembered; Tsi-puff -was ever the arsenal for facts. And so we advanced again. - -"It seemed long and yet brief - a matter of days - before I was positively -talking with these insects of the moon. Of course, at first it was an -intercourse infinitely tedious and exasperating, but imperceptibly it has -grown to comprehension. And my patience has grown to meet its limitations, -Phi-oo it is who does all the talking. He does it with a vast amount of -meditative provisional 'M'm-M'm' and has caught up one or two phrases, 'If -I may say,' 'If you understand,' and beads all his speech with them. - -"Thus he would discourse. Imagine him explaining his artist. - -"'M'm-M'm - he - if I may say - draw. Eat little - drink little - draw. -Love draw. No other thing. Hate all who not draw like him. Angry. Hate all -who draw like him better. Hate most people. Hate all who not think all -world for to draw. Angry. M'm. All things mean nothing to him - only draw. -He like you ... if you understand. ... New thing to draw. Ugly - striking. -Eh? - -"'He' - turning to Tsi-puff - 'love remember words. Remember wonderful -more than any. Think no, draw no - remember. Say' - here he referred to -his gifted assistant for a word - 'histories - all things. He hear once - -say ever.' - -"It is more wonderful to me than I dreamt that anything ever could be -again, to hear, in this perpetual obscurity, these extraordinary creatures -- for even familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect of their -appearance - continually piping a nearer approach to coherent earthly -speech - asking questions, giving answers. I feel that I am casting back -to the fable-hearing period of childhood again, when the ant and the -grasshopper talked together and the bee judged between them..." - -And while these linguistic exercises were going on Cavor seems to have -experienced a considerable relaxation of his confinement. "The first dread -and distrust our unfortunate conflict aroused is being," he said, -"continually effaced by the deliberate rationality of all I do." ... "I am -now able to come and go as I please, or I am restricted only for my own -good. So it is I have been able to get at this apparatus, and, assisted -by a happy find among the material that is littered in this enormous -store-cave, I have contrived to despatch these messages. So far not the -slightest attempt has been made to interfere with me in this, though I -have made it quite clear to Phi-oo that I am signalling to the earth. - -"'You talk to other?' he asked, watching me. - -"'Others,' said I. - -"'Others,' he said. 'Oh yes, Men?' - -"And I went on transmitting." - -Cavor was continually making corrections in his previous accounts of the -Selenites as fresh facts flowed upon him to modify his conclusions, and -accordingly one gives the quotations that follow with a certain amount of -reservation. They are quoted from the ninth, thirteenth, and sixteenth -messages, and, altogether vague and fragmentary as they are, they probably -give as complete a picture of the social life of this strange community as -mankind can now hope to have for many generations. - -"In the moon," says Cavor, "every citizen knows his place. He is born to -that place, and the elaborate discipline of training and education and -surgery he undergoes fits him at last so completely to it that he has -neither ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it. 'Why should he?' -Phi-oo would ask. If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a -mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. They -check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage his -mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill. His brain grows, or -at least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and the rest of him -only so much as is necessary to sustain this essential part of him. At -last, save for rest and food, his one delight lies in the exercise and -display of his facility, his one interest in its application, his sole -society with other specialists in his own line. His brain glows -continually larger, at least so far as the portions engaging in -mathematics are concerned; they bulge ever larger and seem to suck all -life and vigour from the rest of his frame. His limbs shrivel, his heart -and digestive organs diminish, his insect face is hidden under its bulging -contours. His voice becomes a mere stridulation for the stating of -formula; he seems deaf to all but properly enunciated problems. The -faculty of laughter, save for the sudden discovery of some paradox, is -lost to him; his deepest emotion is the evolution of a novel computation. -And so he attains his end. - -"Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a minder of mooncalves is from his -earliest years induced to think and live mooncalf, to find his pleasure in -mooncalf lore, his exercise in their tending and pursuit. He is trained to -become wiry and active, his eye is indurated to the tight wrappings, the -angular contours that constitute a 'smart mooncalfishness.' He takes at -last no interest in the deeper part of the moon; he regards all Selenites -not equally versed in mooncalves with indifference, derision, or -hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf pastures, and his dialect an -accomplished mooncalf technique. So also he loves his work, and discharges -in perfect happiness the duty that justifies his being. And so it is with -all sorts and conditions of Selenites - each is a perfect unit in a world -machine.... - -"These beings with big heads, on whom the intellectual labours fall, form -a sort of aristocracy in this strange society, and at the head of them, -quintessential of the moon, is that marvellous gigantic ganglion the Grand -Lunar, into whose presence I am finally to come. The unlimited development -of the minds of the intellectual class is rendered possible by the absence -of any body skull in the lunar anatomy, that strange box of bone that -clamps about the developing brain of man, imperiously insisting 'thus far -and no farther' to all his possibilities. They fall into three main -classes differing greatly in influence and respect. There are -administrators, of whom Phi-oo is one, Selenites of considerable -initiative and versatility, responsible each for a certain cubic content -of the moon's bulk; the experts like the football-headed thinker, who are -trained to perform certain special operations; and the erudite, who are -the repositories of all knowledge. To the latter class belongs Tsi-puff, -the first lunar professor of terrestrial languages. With regard to these -latter, it is a curious little thing to note that the unlimited growth of -the lunar brain has rendered unnecessary the invention of all those -mechanical aids to brain work which have distinguished the career of man. -There are no books, no records of any sort, no libraries or inscriptions. -All knowledge is stored in distended brains much as the honey-ants of -Texas store honey in their distended abdomens. The lunar Somerset House -and the lunar British Museum Library are collections of living brains... - -"The less specialised administrators, I note, do for the most part take a -very lively interest in me whenever they encounter me. They will come out -of the way and stare at me and ask questions to which Phi-oo will reply. I -see them going hither and thither with a retinue of bearers, attendants, -shouters, parachute-carriers, and so forth - queer groups to see. The -experts for the most part ignore me completely, even as they ignore each -other, or notice me only to begin a clamorous exhibition of their -distinctive skill. The erudite for the most part are rapt in an impervious -and apoplectic complacency, from which only a denial of their erudition -can rouse them. Usually they are led about by little watchers and -attendants, and often there are small and active-looking creatures, small -females usually, that I am inclined to think are a sort of wife to them; -but some of the profounder scholars are altogether too great for -locomotion, and are carried from place to place in a sort of sedan tub, -wabbling jellies of knowledge that enlist my respectful astonishment. I -have just passed one in coming to this place where I am permitted to amuse -myself with these electrical toys, a vast, shaven, shaky head, bald and -thin-skinned, carried on his grotesque stretcher. In front and behind came -his bearers, and curious, almost trumpet-faced, news disseminators -shrieked his fame. - -"I have already mentioned the retinues that accompany most of the -intellectuals: ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles and muscles, -as it were, to replace the abortive physical powers of these hypertrophied -minds. Porters almost invariably accompany them. There are also extremely -swift messengers with spider-like legs and 'hands' for grasping -parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs that could well nigh wake the -dead. Apart from their controlling intelligence these subordinates are as -inert and helpless as umbrellas in a stand. They exist only in relation to -the orders they have to obey, the duties they have to perform. - -"The bulk of these insects, however, who go to and fro upon the spiral -ways, who fill the ascending balloons and drop past me clinging to flimsy -parachutes are, I gather, of the operative class. 'Machine hands,' indeed, -some of these are in actual nature - it is not figure of speech, the -single tentacle of the mooncalf herd is profoundly modified for clawing, -lifting, guiding, the rest of them no more than necessary subordinate -appendages to these important mechanisms, have enormously developed -auditory organs; some whose work lies in delicate chemical operations -project a vast olfactory organ; others again have flat feet for treadles -with anchylosed joints; and others - who I have been told are glassblowers -- seem mere lung-bellows. but every one of these common Selenites I have -seen at work is exquisitely adapted to the social need it meets. Fine work -is done by fined-down workers, amazingly dwarfed and neat. Some I could -hold on the palm of my hand. There is even a sort of turnspit Selenite, -very common, whose duty and only delight it is to apply the motive power -for various small appliances. And to rule over these things and order any -erring tendency there might be in some aberrant natures are the most -muscular beings I have seen in the moon, a sort of lunar police, who must -have been trained from their earliest years to give a perfect respect and -obedience to the swollen heads. - -"The making of these various sorts of operative must be a very curious and -interesting process. I am very much in the dark about it, but quite -recently I came upon a number of young Selenites confined in jars from -which only the fore-limbs protruded, who were being compressed to become -machine-minders of a special sort. The extended 'hand' in this highly -developed system of technical education is stimulated by irritants and -nourished by injection, while the rest of the body is starved. Phi-oo, -unless I misunderstood him, explained that in the earlier stages these -queer little creatures are apt to display signs of suffering in their -various cramped situations, but they easily become indurated to their lot; -and he took me on to where a number of flexible-minded messengers were -being drawn out and broken in. It is quite unreasonable, I know, but such -glimpses of the educational methods of these beings affect me -disagreeably. I hope, however, that may pass off, and I may be able to -see more of this aspect of their wonderful social order. That -wretched-looking hand-tentacle sticking out of its jar seemed to have a -sort of limp appeal for lost possibilities; it haunts me still, although, -of course it is really in the end a far more humane proceeding than our -earthly method of leaving children to grow into human beings, and then -making machines of them. - -"Quite recently, too - I think it was on the eleventh or twelfth visit I -made to this apparatus - I had a curious light upon the lives of these -operatives. I was being guided through a short cut hither, instead of -going down the spiral, and by the quays to the Central Sea. From the -devious windings of a long, dark gallery, we emerged into a vast, low -cavern, pervaded by an earthy smell, and as things go in this darkness, -rather brightly lit. The light came from a tumultuous growth of livid -fungoid shapes - some indeed singularly like our terrestrial mushrooms, -but standing as high or higher than a man. - -"'Mooneys eat these?' said I to Phi-oo. - -"'Yes, food.' - -"'Goodness me!' I cried; 'what's that?' - -"My eye had just caught the figure of an exceptionally big and ungainly -Selenite lying motionless among the stems, face downward. We stopped. - -"'Dead?' I asked. (For as yet I have seen no dead the moon, and I have -grown curious.) - -"'No! ' exclaimed Phi-oo. 'Him - worker - no work to do. Get little drink -then - make sleep - till we him want. What good him wake, eh? No want him -walking about.' - -"'There's another!' cried I. - -"And indeed all that huge extent of mushroom ground was, I found, peppered -with these prostrate figures sleeping under an opiate until the moon had -need of them. There were scores of them of all sorts, and we were able to -turn over some of them, and examine them more precisely than I had been -able to previously. They breathed noisily at my doing so, but did not -wake. One, I remember very distinctly: he left a strong impression, I -think, because some trick the light and of his attitude was strongly -suggestive a drawn-up human figure. His fore-limbs were long, delicate -tentacles - he was some kind of refined manipulator - and the pose of his -slumber suggested a submissive suffering. No doubt it was a mistake for to -interpret his expression in that way, but I did. And as Phi-oo rolled him -over into the darkness among the livid fleshiness again I felt a -distinctly unpleasant sensation, although as he rolled the insect in him -was confessed. - -"It simply illustrates the unthinking way in which one acquires habits of -feeling. To drug the worker one does not want and toss him aside is surely -far better than to expel him from his factory to wander starving in the -streets. In every complicated social community there is necessarily a -certain intermittency of employment for all specialised labour, and in -this way the trouble of an 'unemployed' problem is altogether anticipated. -And yet, so unreasonable are even scientifically trained minds, I still do -not like the memory of those prostrate forms amidst those quiet, luminous -arcades of fleshy growth, and I avoid that short cut in spite of the -inconveniences of the longer, more noisy, and more crowded alternative. - -"My alternative route takes me round by a huge, shadowy cavern, very -crowded and clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of the hexagonal -openings of a sort of honeycomb wall, or parading a large open space -behind, 01 selecting the toys and amulets made to please them by the -dainty-tentacled jewellers who work in kennels below, the mothers of the -moon world - the queen bees, as it were, of the hive. They are -noble-looking beings, fantastically and sometimes quite beautifully -adorned, with a proud carriage, and, save for their mouths, almost -microscopic heads. - -"Of the condition of the moon sexes, marrying and giving in marriage, and -of birth and so forth among the Selenites, I have as yet been able to -learn very little. With the steady progress of Phi-oo in English, however, -my ignorance will no doubt as steadily disappear. I am of opinion that, as -with the ants and bees, there is a large majority of the members in this -community of the neuter sex. Of course on earth in our cities there are -now many who never live that life of parentage which is the natural life -of man. Here, as with the ants, this thing has become a normal condition -of the race, and the whole of such eplacement as is necessary falls upon -this special and by no means numerous class of matrons, the mothers of the -moon-world, large and stately beings beautifully fitted to bear the larval -Selenite. Unless I misunderstand an explanation of Phi-oo's, they are -absolutely incapable of cherishing the young they bring into the moon; -periods of foolish indulgence alternate with moods of aggressive violence, -and as soon as possible the little creatures, who are quite soft and -flabby and pale coloured, are transferred to the charge of celibate -females, women 'workers' as it were, who in some cases possess brains of -almost masculine dimensions." - -Just at this point, unhappily, this message broke off. Fragmentary and -tantalising as the matter constituting this chapter is, it does -nevertheless give a vague, broad impression of an altogether strange and -wonderful world - a world with which our own may have to reckon we know -not how speedily. This intermittent trickle of messages, this whispering -of a record needle in the stillness of the mountain slopes, is the first -warning of such a change in human conditions as mankind has scarcely -imagined heretofore. In that satellite of ours there are new elements, new -appliances, traditions, an overwhelming avalanche of new ideas, a strange -race with whom we must inevitably struggle for mastery - gold as common as -iron or wood... - - - - - -Chapter 25 - - - - -The Grand Lunar - -THE penultimate message describes, with occasionally elaborate detail, the -encounter between Cavor and the Grand Lunar, who is the ruler or master of -the moon. Cavor seems to have sent most of it without interference, but to -have been interrupted in the concluding portion. The second came after an -interval of a week. - -The first message begins: "At last I am able to resume this" it then -becomes illegible for a space, and after a time resumed in mid-sentence. - -The missing words of the following sentence are probably "the crowd." -There follows quite clearly: "grew ever denser as we drew near the palace -of the Grand Lunar - if I may call a series of excavations a palace. -Everywhere faces stared at me - blank, chitinous gapes and masks, eyes -peering over tremendous olfactory developments, eyes beneath monstrous -forehead plates; and undergrowth of smaller creatures dodged and yelped, -and helmet faces poised on sinuous, long-jointed necks appeared craning -over shoulders and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome space about me -marched a cordon of stolid, scuttle-headed guards, who had joined us on -our leaving the boat in which we had come along the channels of the -Central Sea. The quick-eyed artist with the little brain joined us also, -and a thick bunch of lean porter-insects swayed and struggled under the -multitude of conveniences that were considered essential to my state. I -was carried in a litter during the final stage of our journey. This litter -was made of some very ductile metal that looked dark to me, meshed and -woven, and with bars of paler metal, and about me as I advanced there -grouped itself a long and complicated procession. - -"In front, after the manner of heralds, marched four trumpet-faced -creatures making a devastating bray; and then came squat, resolute-moving -ushers before and behind, and on either hand a galaxy of learned heads, a -sort of animated encyclopedia, who were, Phi-oo explained, to stand about -the Grand Lunar for purposes of reference. (Not a thing in lunar science, -not a point of view or method of thinking, that these wonderful beings did -not carry in their heads!) Followed guards and porters, and then Phi-oo's -shivering brain borne also on a litter. Then came Tsi-puff in a slightly -less important litter; then myself on a litter of greater elegance than -any other, and surrounded by my food and drink attendants. More trumpeters -came next, splitting the ear with vehement outcries, and then several big -brains, special correspondents one might well call them, or -historiographers, charged with the task of observing and remembering every -detail of this epoch-making interview. A company of attendants, bearing -and dragging banners and masses of scented fungus and curious symbols, -vanished in the darkness behind. The way was lined by ushers and officers -in caparisons that gleamed like steel, and beyond their line, so far as my -eyes could pierce the gloom, the heads of that enormous crowd extended. - -"I will own that I am still by no means indurated. to the peculiar effect -of the Selenite appearance, and to find myself, as it were, adrift on this -broad sea of excited entomology was by no means agreeable. Just for a -space I had something very like what I should imagine people mean when -they speak of the 'horrors.' It had come to me before in these lunar -caverns, when on occasion I have found myself weaponless and with an -undefended back, amidst a crowd of these Selenites, but never quite so -vividly. It is, of course, as absolutely irrational a feeling as one could -well have, and I hope gradually to subdue it. But just for a moment, as I -swept forward into the welter of the vast crowd, it was only by gripping -my litter tightly and summoning all my will-power that I succeeded in -avoiding an outcry or some such manifestation. It lasted perhaps three I -minutes; then I had myself in hand again. - -"We ascended the spiral of a vertical way for some time, and then passed -through a series of huge halls dome-roofed and elaborately decorated. The -approach to the Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to give one a vivid -impression of his greatness. Each cavern one entered seemed greater and -more boldly arched than its predecessor. This effect of progressive size -was enhanced by a thin haze of faintly phosphorescent blue incense that -thickened as one advanced, and robbed even the nearer figures of -clearness. I seemed to advance continually to something larger, dimmer, -and less material. - -"I must confess that all this multitude made me feel extremely shabby and -unworthy. I was unshaven and unkempt; I had brought no razor; I had a -coarse beard over my mouth. On earth I have always been inclined to -despise any attention to my person beyond a proper care for cleanliness; -but under the exceptional circumstances in which I found myself, -representing, as I did, my planet and my kind, and depending very largely -upon the attractiveness of my appearance for a proper reception, I could -have given much for something a little more artistic and dignified than -the husks I wore. I had been so serene in the belief that the moon was -uninhabited as to overlook such precautions altogether. As it was I was -dressed in a flannel jacket, knickerbockers, and golfing stockings, -stained with every sort of dirt the moon offered, slippers (of which the -left heel was wanting), and a blanket, through a hole in which I thrust my -head. (These clothes, indeed, I still wear.) Sharp bristles are anything -but an improvement to my cast of features, and there was an unmended tear -at the knee of my knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as I squatted -in my litter; my right stocking, too persisted in getting about my ankle. -I am fully alive to the injustice my appearance did humanity, and if by -any expedient I could have improvised something a little out of the way -and imposing I would have done so. But I could hit upon nothing. I did -what I could with my blanket - folding it somewhat after the fashion of a -toga, and for the rest I sat as upright as the swaying of my litter -permitted. - -"Imagine the largest hall you have ever been in, imperfectly lit with blue -light and obscured by a gray-blue fog, surging with metallic or livid-gray -creatures of such a mad diversity as I have hinted. Imagine this hall to -end in an open archway beyond which is a still larger hall, and beyond -this yet another and still larger one, and so on. At the end of the vista, -dimly seen, a flight of steps, like the steps of Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend -out of sight. Higher and higher these steps appear to go as one draws -nearer their base. But at last I came under a huge archway and beheld the -summit of these steps, and upon it the Grand Lunar exalted on his throne. - -" He was seated in what was relatively a blaze of incandescent blue. This, -and the darkness about him gave him an effect of floating in a blue-black -void. He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud at first, brooding on his -sombre throne; his brain case must have measured many yards in diameter. -For some reason that I cannot fathom a number of blue search-lights -radiated from behind the throne on which he sat, and immediately -encircling him was a halo. About him, and little and indistinct in this -glow, a number of body-servants sustained and supported him, and -overshadowed and standing in a huge semicircle beneath him were his -intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers and computators and searchers -and servants, and all the distinguished insects of the court of the moon. -Still lower stood ushers and messengers, and then all down the countless -steps of the throne were guards, and at the base, enormous, various, -indistinct, vanishing at last into an absolute black, a vast swaying -multitude of the minor dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a -perpetual scraping whisper on the rocky floor, as their limbs moved with a -rustling murmur. - -"As I entered the penultimate hall the music rose and expanded into an -imperial magnificence of sound, and the shrieks of the news-bearers died -away. ... - -"I entered the last and greatest hall.... - -"My procession opened out like a fan. My ushers and guards went right and -left, and the three litters bearing myself and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff marched -across a shiny darkness of floor to the foot of the giant stairs. Then -began a vast throbbing hum, that mingled with the music. The two Selenites -dismounted, but I was bidden remain seated - I imagine as a special -honour. The music ceased, but not that humming, arid by a simultaneous -movement of ten thousand respectful heads my attention was directed to the -enhaloed supreme intelligence that hovered above me. - -"At first as I peered into the radiating glow this quintessential brain -looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim, undulating -ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within. Then beneath its enormity -and just above the edge of the throne one saw with a start minute elfin -eyes peering out of the glow. No face, but eyes, as if they peered through -holes. At first I could see no more than these two staring little eyes, -and then below I distinguished the little dwarfed body and its -insect-jointed limbs shrivelled and white. The eyes stared down at me with -a strange intensity, and the lower part of the swollen globe was wrinkled. -Ineffectual-looking little hand-tentacles steadied this shape on the -throne. ... - -"It was great. It was pitiful. One forgot the hall and the crowd. - -"I ascended the staircase by jerks. It seemed to me that this darkly -glowing brain case above us spread over me, and took more and more of the -whole effect into itself as I drew nearer. The tiers of attendants and -helpers grouped about their master seemed to dwindle and fade into the -night. I saw that shadowy attendants were busy spraying that great brain -with a cooling spray, and patting and sustaining it. For my own part, I -sat gripping my swaying litter and staring at the Grand Lunar, unable to -turn my gaze aside. And at last, as I reached a little landing that was -separated only by ten steps or so from the supreme seat, the woven -splendour of the music reached a climax and ceased, and I was left naked, -as it were, in that vastness, beneath the still scrutiny of the Grand -Lunar's eyes. - -"He was scrutinising the first man he had ever seen. ... - -"My eyes dropped at last from his greatness to the ant figures in the blue -mist about him, and then down the steps to the massed Selenites, still and -expectant in their thousands, packed on the floor below. Once again an -unreasonable horror reached out towards me. ... And passed. - -"After the pause came the salutation. I was assisted from my litter, and -stood awkwardly while a number of curious and no doubt deeply symbolical -gestures were vicariously performed for me by two slender officials. The -encyclopaedic galaxy of the learned that had accompanied me to the -entrance of the last hall appeared two steps above me and left and right -of me, in readiness for the Grand Lunar's need, and Phi-oo's pale brain -placed itself about half-way up to the throne in such a position as to -communicate easily between us without turning his back on either the Grand -Lunar or myself. Tsi-puff took up position behind him. Dexterous ushers -sidled sideways towards me, keeping a full face to the Presence. I seated -myself Turkish fashion, and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff also knelt down above me. -There came a pause. The eyes of the nearer court went from me to the Grand -Lunar and came back to me, and a hissing and piping of expectation passed -across the hidden multitudes below and ceased. - -"That humming ceased. - -"For the first and last time in my experience the moon was silent. - -"I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. The Grand Lunar was addressing -me. It was like the rubbing of a finger upon a pane of glass. - -"I watched him attentively for a time, and then glanced at the alert -Phi-oo. I felt amidst these slender beings ridiculously thick and fleshy -and solid; my head all jaw and black hair. My eyes went back to the Grand -Lunar. He had ceased; his attendants were busy, and his shining superfices -was glistening and running with cooling spray. - -"Phi-oo meditated through an interval. He consulted Tsi-puff. Then he -began piping his recognisable English - at first a little nervously, so -that he was not very clear. - -"'M'm - the Grand Lunar - wishes to say - wishes to say - he gathers you -are - m'm - men - that you are a man from the planet earth. He wishes to -say that he welcomes you - welcomes you - and wishes to learn - learn, if -I may use the word - the state of your world, and the reason why you came -to this.' - -"He paused. I was about to reply when he resumed. He proceeded to remarks -of which the drift was not very clear, though I am inclined to think they -were intended to be complimentary. He told me that the earth was to the -moon what the sun is to the earth, and that the Selenites desired very -greatly to learn about the earth and men. He then told me no doubt in -compliment also, the relative magnitude and diameter of earth and moon, -and the perpetual wonder and speculation with which the Selenites had -regarded our planet. I meditated with downcast eyes, and decided to reply -that men too had wondered what might lie in the moon, and had judged it -dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had seen that day. The -Grand Lunar, in token of recognition, caused his long blue rays to rotate -in a very confusing manner, and all about the great hall ran the pipings -and whisperings and rustlings of the report of what I had said. He then -proceeded to put to Phi-oo a number of inquiries which were easier to -answer. - -"He understood, he explained, that we lived on the surface of the earth, -that our air and sea were outside the globe; the latter part, indeed, he -already knew from his astronomical specialists. He was very anxious to -have more detailed information of what he called this extraordinary state -of affairs, for from the solidity of the earth there had always been a -disposition regard it as uninhabitable. He endeavoured first to ascertain -the extremes of temperature to which we earth beings were exposed, and he -was deeply interested by my descriptive treatment of clouds and rain. His -imagination was assisted by the fact that the lunar atmosphere in the -outer galleries of the night side is not infrequently very foggy. He -seemed inclined to marvel that we did not find the sunlight too intense -for our eyes, and was interested in my attempt to explain that the sky was -tempered to a bluish colour through the refraction of the air, though I -doubt if he clearly understood that. I explained how the iris of the human -eyes can contract the pupil and save the delicate internal structure from -the excess of sunlight, and was allowed to approach within a few feet of -the Presence in order that this structure might be seen. This led to a -comparison of the lunar and terrestrial eyes. The former is not only -excessively sensitive to such light as men can see, but it can also see -heat, and every difference in temperature within the moon renders objects -visible to it. - -"The iris was quite a new organ to the Grand Lunar. For a time he amused -himself by flashing his rays into my face and watching my pupils contract. -As a consequence, I was dazzled and blinded for some little time. ... - -"But in spite of that discomfort I found something reassuring by -insensible degrees in the rationality of this business of question and -answer. I could shut my eyes, think of my answer, and almost forget that -the the Grand Lunar has no face. ... - -"When I had descended again to my proper place the Grand Lunar asked how -we sheltered ourselves from heat and storms, and I expounded to him the -arts of building and furnishing. Here we wandered into misunderstandings -and cross-purposes, due largely, I must admit, to the looseness of my -expressions. For a long time I had great difficulty in making him -understand the nature of a house. To him and his attendant Selenites it -seemed, no doubt, the most whimsical thing in the world that men should -build houses when they might descend into excavations, and an additional -complication was introduced by the attempt I made to explain that men had -originally begun their homes in caves, and that they were now taking their -railways and many establishments beneath the surface. Here I think a -desire for intellectual completeness betrayed me. There was also a -considerable tangle due to an equally unwise attempt on my part to explain -about mines. Dismissing this topic at last in an incomplete state, the -Grand Lunar inquired what we did with the interior of our globe. - -"A tide of twittering and piping swept into the remotest corners of that -great assembly then it was last made clear that we men know absolutely -nothing of the contents of the world upon which the immemorial generations -of our ancestors had been evolved. Three times had I to repeat that of all -the 4000 miles of distance between the earth and its centre men knew only -to the depth of a mile, and that very vaguely. I understood the Grand -Lunar to ask why had I come to the moon seeing we had scarcely touched our -own planet yet, but he did not trouble me at that time to proceed to an -explanation, being too anxious to pursue the details of this mad inversion -of all his ideas. - -"He reverted to the question of weather, and I tried to describe the -perpetually changing sky, and snow, and frost and hurricanes. 'But when -the night comes,' he ed, 'is it not cold?' - -"I told him it was colder than by day. "'And does not your atmosphere -freeze?' - -"I told him not; that it was never cold enough for that, because our -nights were so short. - -"'Not even liquefy?' - -"I was about to say 'No,' but then it occurred to me that one part at -least of our atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does sometimes liquefy -and form dew, and sometimes freeze and form frost - a process perfectly -analogous to the freezing of all the external atmosphere of the moon -during its longer night. I made myself clear on this point, and from that -the Grand Lunar went on to speak with me of sleep. For the need of sleep -that comes so regularly every twenty-four hours to all things is part also -of our earthly inheritance. On the moon they rest only at rare intervals, -and after exceptional exertions. Then I tried to describe to him the soft -splendours of a summer night, and from that I passed to a description of -those animals that prowl by night and sleep by day. I told him of lions -and tigers, and here it seemed as though we had come to a deadlock. For, -save in their waters, there are no creatures in the moon not absolutely -domestic and subject to his will, and so it has been for immemorial years. -They have monstrous water creatures, but no evil beasts, and the idea of -anything strong and large existing 'outside' in the night is very -difficult for them. ... - -The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps -twenty words or more. - -"He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange -superficiality and unreasonableness of (man) who lives on the mere surface -of a world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances of space, -who cannot even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon his kind, and -yet who dares to invade another planet. During this aside I sat thinking, -and then at his desire I told him of the different sorts of men. He -searched me with questions. "And for all sorts of work you have the same -sort of men. But who thinks? Who governs?' - -"I gave him an outline of the democratic method. - -"When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then -requested me to repeat my explanation conceiving something had miscarried. - -"'Do they not do different things, then?' said Phi-oo. - -"Some, I admitted, were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some -were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. 'But all rule,' I said. - -"'And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different -duties?' - -"'None that you can see,' I said, 'except perhaps, for clothes. Their -minds perhaps differ a little,' I reflected. - -"'Their minds must differ a great deal,' said the Grand Lunar, 'or they -would all want to do the same things.' - -"In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his preconceptions, I -said that his surmise was right 'It was all hidden in the brain,' I said; -'but the difference was there. Perhaps if one could see the minds and -souls of men they would be as varied and unequal as the Selenites. There -were great men and small men, men who could reach out far and wide, men -who could go swiftly; noisy, trumpet-minded men, and men who could -remember without thinking. ... The record is indistinct for three words. - -He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statements. 'But you said -all men rule?' he pressed. - -"To a certain extent," I said, and made, I fear, a denser fog with my -explanation. - -"He reached out to a salient fact. "Do you mean," asked, 'that there is -no Grand Earthly?' - -I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I -explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth had -usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large and -influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged, the -Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At which the -Grand Lunar was even more amazed. - -"But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?" he asked; and I -explained to him the way we helped our limited [a word omitted here, -probably "brains"] with libraries of books. I explained to him how our -science was growing by the united labours of innumerable little men, and -on that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered much -in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the moon. -Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites grew and -changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and remained brutes - -equipped. He said this... [Here there is a short piece of the record -indistinct.] - -"He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours, and I -described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not -understand that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but -when he did he was clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing, -that the Selenites use years to count by, just as we do on earth, though I -can make nothing of their numeral system. That, however, does not matter, -because Phi-oo understands ours.) From that I went on to tell him that -mankind had dwelt in cities only for nine or ten thousand years, and that -we were still not united in one brotherhood, but under many different -forms of government. This astonished the Grand Lunar very much, when it -was made clear to him. At first he thought we referred merely to -administrative areas. - -"'Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what order will -some day be,' I said, and so I came to tell him. ... [At this point a -length of record that probably represents thirty or forty words is totally -illegible.] - -"The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging to -the inconvenience of diverse tongues. 'They want to communicate, and yet -not to communicate,' he said, and then for a long time he questioned me -closely concerning war. - -"He was at first perplexed and incredulous. 'You mean to say,' he asked, -seeking confirmation, 'that you run about over the surface of your world - -this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to scrape - killing one -another for beasts to eat?' - -"I told him that was perfectly correct. - -"He asked for particulars to assist his imagination. - -"'But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured? ' he asked, -and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress him -almost as much as the killing. 'Tell me more,' said the Grand Lunar; 'make -me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.' - -"And so, for a space, though something loath, I told him the story of -earthly War. - -"I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and -ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an idea -of manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of sieges and -assaults, of starvation and hardship in trenches, and of sentinels -freezing in the snow. I told him of routs and surprises, and desperate -last stands and faint hopes, and the pitiless pursuit of fugitives and the -dead upon the field. I told, too, of the past, of invasions and massacres, -of the Huns and Tartars, and the wars of Mahomet and the Caliphs, and of -the Crusades. And as I went on, and Phi-oo translated, and the Selenites -cooed and murmured in a steadily intensified emotion. - -"I told them an ironclad could fire a shot of a ton twelve miles, and go -through 20 ft. of iron - and how we could steer torpedoes under water. I -went on to describe a Maxim gun in action, and what I could imagine of the -Battle of Colenso. The Grand Lunar was so incredulous that he interrupted -the translation of what I had said in order to have my verification of my -account. They particularly doubted my description of the men cheering and -rejoicing as they went into (? battle). - -"'But surely they do not like it!' translated Phi-oo. - -"I assured them men of my race considered battle the most glorious -experience of life, at which the whole assembly was stricken with -amazement. - -"'But what good is this war?' asked the Grand Lunar, sticking to his -theme. - -"'Oh! as for good!' said I; 'it thins the population!' - -"'But why should there be a need - ?' .. - -"There came a pause, the cooling sprays impigned upon his brow, and then -he spoke again." - -[At this point a series of undulations that have been apparent as a -perplexing complication as far back as Cavor's description of the silence -that fell before the first speaking of the Grand Lunar become confusingly -predominant in the record. These undulations are evidently the result of -radiations proceeding from a lunar source, and their persistent -approximation to the alternating signals of Cavor is curiously suggestive -of some operator deliberately seeking to mix them in with his message and -render it illegible. At first they are small and regular, so that with a -little care and the loss of very few words we have been able to -disentangle Cavor's message; then they become broad and larger, then -suddenly they are irregular, with an irregularity that gives the effect at -last of some one scribbling through a line of writing. For a long time -nothing can be made of this madly zigzagging trace; then quite abruptly -the interruption ceases, leaves a few words clear, and then resumes and -continues for the rest of the message, completely obliterating whatever -Cavor was attempting to transmit. Why, if this is indeed a deliberate -intervention, the Selenites should have preferred to let Cavor go on -transmitting his message in happy ignorance of their obliteration of its -record, when it was clearly quite in their power and much more easy and -convenient for them to stop his proceedings at any time, is a problem to -which I can contribute nothing. The thing seems to have happened so, and -that is all I can say. This last rag of his description of the Grand Lunar -begins in mid-sentence.] - -"...interrogated me very closely upon my secret. I was able in a little -while to get to an understanding with them, and at last to elucidate what -has been a puzzle to me ever since I realised the vastness of there -science, namely, how it is they themselves have never discovered -'Cavorite.' I find they know of it as a theoretical substance, but they -have always regarded it as a practical impossibility, because for some -reason there is no helium in the moon, and helium..." - -[Across the last letters of helium slashes the resumption of that -obliterating trace. Note that word "secret," for that, and that alone, I -base my interpretation of the message that follows, the last message, as -both Mr. Wendigee and myself now believe it to be, that he is ever likely -to send us.] - - - - - -Chapter 26 - - - - -The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth - -ON this unsatisfactory manner the penultimate message of Cavor dies out. -One seems to see him away there in the blue obscurity amidst his apparatus -intently signalling us to the last, all unaware of the curtain of -confusion that drops between us; all unaware, too, of the final dangers -that even then must have been creeping upon him. His disastrous want of -vulgar common sense had utterly betrayed him. He had talked of war, he had -talked of all the strength and irrational violence of men, of their -insatiable aggressions, their tireless futility of conflict. He had filled -the whole moon world with this impression of our race, and then I think it -is plain that he made the most fatal admission that upon himself alone -hung the possibility - at least for a long time - of any further men -reaching the moon. The line the cold, inhuman reason of the moon would -take seems plain enough to me, and a suspicion of it, and then perhaps -some sudden sharp realisation of it, must have come to him. One imagines -him about the moon with the remorse of this fatal indiscretion growing in -his mind. During a certain time I am inclined to guess the Grand Lunar was -deliberating the new situation, and for all that time Cavor may have gone -as free as ever he had gone. But obstacles of some sort prevented his -getting to his electromagnetic apparatus again after that message I have -just given. For some days we received nothing. Perhaps he was having fresh -audiences, and trying to evade his previous admissions. Who can hope to -guess? - -And then suddenly, like a cry in the night, like a cry that is followed by -a stillness, came the last message. It is the briefest fragment, the -broken beginnings of two sentences. - -The first was: "I was mad to let the Grand Lunar know." - -There was an interval of perhaps a minute. One imagines some interruption -from without. A departure from the instrument - a dreadful hesitation -among the looming masses of apparatus in that dim, blue-lit cavern - a -sudden rush back to it, full of a resolve that came too late. Then, as if -it were hastily transmitted came: "Cavorite made as follows: take-" - -There followed one word, a quite unmeaning word as it stands: "uless." - -And that is all. - -It may be he made a hasty attempt to spell "useless" when his fate was -close upon him. Whatever it was that was happening about that apparatus we -cannot tell. Whatever it was we shall never, I know, receive another -message from the moon. For my own part a vivid dream has come to my help, -and I see, almost as plainly as though I had seen it in actual fact, a -blue-lit shadowy dishevelled Cavor struggling in the grip of these insect -Selenites, struggling ever more desperately and hopelessly as they press -upon him, shouting, expostulating, perhaps even at last fighting, and -being forced backwards step by step out of all speech or sign of his -fellows, for evermore into the Unknown - into the dark, into that silence -that has no end. ... - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The First Men In The Moon, by Wells - diff --git a/old/old/fmitm10.zip b/old/old/fmitm10.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9eb819b..0000000 --- a/old/old/fmitm10.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-09-03/1013-0.txt b/old/old/old-2024-09-03/1013-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8df5991..0000000 --- a/old/old/old-2024-09-03/1013-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8121 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The First Men In The Moon, by H. G. Wells - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The First Men In The Moon - -Author: H. G. Wells - -Release Date: August, 1997 [eBook #1013] -[Most recently updated: November 13, 2020] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Barry Haworth - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON *** - -[Illustration] - - - - -The First Men In The Moon - -by H. G. Wells - - -Contents - - I. Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne - II. The First Making of Cavorite - III. The Building of the sphere - IV. Inside the Sphere - V. The Journey to the Moon - VI. The Landing on the Moon - VII. Sunrise on the Moon - VIII. A Lunar Morning - IX. Prospecting Begins - X. Lost Men in the Moon - XI. The Mooncalf Pastures - XII. The Selenite’s Face - XIII. Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions - XIV. Experiments in intercourse - XV. The Giddy Bridge - XVI. Points of View - XVII. The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers - XVIII. In the Sunlight - XIX. Mr. Bedford Alone - XX. Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space - XXI. Mr. Bedford at Littlestone - XXII. The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee - XXIII. An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor - XXIV. The Natural History of the Selenites - XXV. The Grand Lunar - XXVI. The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth - - - - -I. -Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne - - -As I sit down to write here amidst the shadows of vine-leaves under the -blue sky of southern Italy, it comes to me with a certain quality of -astonishment that my participation in these amazing adventures of Mr. -Cavor was, after all, the outcome of the purest accident. It might have -been any one. I fell into these things at a time when I thought myself -removed from the slightest possibility of disturbing experiences. I had -gone to Lympne because I had imagined it the most uneventful place in -the world. “Here, at any rate,” said I, “I shall find peace and a -chance to work!” - -And this book is the sequel. So utterly at variance is destiny with all -the little plans of men. I may perhaps mention here that very recently -I had come an ugly cropper in certain business enterprises. Sitting now -surrounded by all the circumstances of wealth, there is a luxury in -admitting my extremity. I can admit, even, that to a certain extent my -disasters were conceivably of my own making. It may be there are -directions in which I have some capacity, but the conduct of business -operations is not among these. But in those days I was young, and my -youth among other objectionable forms took that of a pride in my -capacity for affairs. I am young still in years, but the things that -have happened to me have rubbed something of the youth from my mind. -Whether they have brought any wisdom to light below it is a more -doubtful matter. - -It is scarcely necessary to go into the details of the speculations -that landed me at Lympne, in Kent. Nowadays even about business -transactions there is a strong spice of adventure. I took risks. In -these things there is invariably a certain amount of give and take, and -it fell to me finally to do the giving reluctantly enough. Even when I -had got out of everything, one cantankerous creditor saw fit to be -malignant. Perhaps you have met that flaming sense of outraged virtue, -or perhaps you have only felt it. He ran me hard. It seemed to me, at -last, that there was nothing for it but to write a play, unless I -wanted to drudge for my living as a clerk. I have a certain -imagination, and luxurious tastes, and I meant to make a vigorous fight -for it before that fate overtook me. In addition to my belief in my -powers as a business man, I had always in those days had an idea that I -was equal to writing a very good play. It is not, I believe, a very -uncommon persuasion. I knew there is nothing a man can do outside -legitimate business transactions that has such opulent possibilities, -and very probably that biased my opinion. I had, indeed, got into the -habit of regarding this unwritten drama as a convenient little reserve -put by for a rainy day. That rainy day had come, and I set to work. - -I soon discovered that writing a play was a longer business than I had -supposed; at first I had reckoned ten days for it, and it was to have a -_pied-à-terre_ while it was in hand that I came to Lympne. I reckoned -myself lucky in getting that little bungalow. I got it on a three -years’ agreement. I put in a few sticks of furniture, and while the -play was in hand I did my own cooking. My cooking would have shocked -Mrs. Bond. And yet, you know, it had flavour. I had a coffee-pot, a -sauce-pan for eggs, and one for potatoes, and a frying-pan for sausages -and bacon—such was the simple apparatus of my comfort. One cannot -always be magnificent, but simplicity is always a possible alternative. -For the rest I laid in an eighteen-gallon cask of beer on credit, and a -trustful baker came each day. It was not, perhaps, in the style of -Sybaris, but I have had worse times. I was a little sorry for the -baker, who was a very decent man indeed, but even for him I hoped. - -Certainly if any one wants solitude, the place is Lympne. It is in the -clay part of Kent, and my bungalow stood on the edge of an old sea -cliff and stared across the flats of Romney Marsh at the sea. In very -wet weather the place is almost inaccessible, and I have heard that at -times the postman used to traverse the more succulent portions of his -route with boards upon his feet. I never saw him doing so, but I can -quite imagine it. Outside the doors of the few cottages and houses that -make up the present village big birch besoms are stuck, to wipe off the -worst of the clay, which will give some idea of the texture of the -district. I doubt if the place would be there at all, if it were not a -fading memory of things gone for ever. It was the big port of England -in Roman times, Portus Lemanis, and now the sea is four miles away. All -down the steep hill are boulders and masses of Roman brickwork, and -from it old Watling Street, still paved in places, starts like an arrow -to the north. I used to stand on the hill and think of it all, the -galleys and legions, the captives and officials, the women and traders, -the speculators like myself, all the swarm and tumult that came -clanking in and out of the harbour. And now just a few lumps of rubble -on a grassy slope, and a sheep or two—and I. And where the port had -been were the levels of the marsh, sweeping round in a broad curve to -distant Dungeness, and dotted here and there with tree clumps and the -church towers of old mediæval towns that are following Lemanis now -towards extinction. - -That outlook on the marsh was, indeed, one of the finest views I have -ever seen. I suppose Dungeness was fifteen miles away; it lay like a -raft on the sea, and farther westward were the hills by Hastings under -the setting sun. Sometimes they hung close and clear, sometimes they -were faded and low, and often the drift of the weather took them clean -out of sight. And all the nearer parts of the marsh were laced and lit -by ditches and canals. - -The window at which I worked looked over the skyline of this crest, and -it was from this window that I first set eyes on Cavor. It was just as -I was struggling with my scenario, holding down my mind to the sheer -hard work of it, and naturally enough he arrested my attention. - -The sun had set, the sky was a vivid tranquillity of green and yellow, -and against that he came out black—the oddest little figure. - -He was a short, round-bodied, thin-legged little man, with a jerky -quality in his motions; he had seen fit to clothe his extraordinary -mind in a cricket cap, an overcoat, and cycling knickerbockers and -stockings. Why he did so I do not know, for he never cycled and he -never played cricket. It was a fortuitous concurrence of garments, -arising I know not how. He gesticulated with his hands and arms, and -jerked his head about and buzzed. He buzzed like something electric. -You never heard such buzzing. And ever and again he cleared his throat -with a most extraordinary noise. - -There had been rain, and that spasmodic walk of his was enhanced by the -extreme slipperiness of the footpath. Exactly as he came against the -sun he stopped, pulled out a watch, hesitated. Then with a sort of -convulsive gesture he turned and retreated with every manifestation of -haste, no longer gesticulating, but going with ample strides that -showed the relatively large size of his feet—they were, I remember, -grotesquely exaggerated in size by adhesive clay—to the best possible -advantage. - -This occurred on the first day of my sojourn, when my play-writing -energy was at its height and I regarded the incident simply as an -annoying distraction—the waste of five minutes. I returned to my -scenario. But when next evening the apparition was repeated with -remarkable precision, and again the next evening, and indeed every -evening when rain was not falling, concentration upon the scenario -became a considerable effort. “Confound the man,” I said, “one would -think he was learning to be a marionette!” and for several evenings I -cursed him pretty heartily. Then my annoyance gave way to amazement and -curiosity. Why on earth should a man do this thing? On the fourteenth -evening I could stand it no longer, and so soon as he appeared I opened -the french window, crossed the verandah, and directed myself to the -point where he invariably stopped. - -He had his watch out as I came up to him. He had a chubby, rubicund -face with reddish brown eyes—previously I had seen him only against the -light. “One moment, sir,” said I as he turned. He stared. “One moment,” -he said, “certainly. Or if you wish to speak to me for longer, and it -is not asking too much—your moment is up—would it trouble you to -accompany me?” - -“Not in the least,” said I, placing myself beside him. - -“My habits are regular. My time for intercourse—limited.” - -“This, I presume, is your time for exercise?” - -“It is. I come here to enjoy the sunset.” - -“You don’t.” - -“Sir?” - -“You never look at it.” - -“Never look at it?” - -“No. I’ve watched you thirteen nights, and not once have you looked at -the sunset—not once.” - -He knitted his brows like one who encounters a problem. - -“Well, I enjoy the sunlight—the atmosphere—I go along this path, -through that gate”—he jerked his head over his shoulder—“and round—” - -“You don’t. You never have been. It’s all nonsense. There isn’t a way. -To-night for instance—” - -“Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I -had already been out just three minutes over the precise half-hour, -decided there was not time to go round, turned—” - -“You always do.” - -He looked at me—reflected. “Perhaps I do, now I come to think of it. -But what was it you wanted to speak to me about?” - -“Why, this!” - -“This?” - -“Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise—” - -“Making a noise?” - -“Like this.” I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me, and it was -evident the buzzing awakened distaste. “Do I do _that?_” he asked. - -“Every blessed evening.” - -“I had no idea.” - -He stopped dead. He regarded me gravely. “Can it be,” he said, “that I -have formed a Habit?” - -“Well, it looks like it. Doesn’t it?” - -He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a -puddle at his feet. - -“My mind is much occupied,” he said. “And you want to know _why!_ Well, -sir, I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do these -things, but I did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is just -as you say; I never _have_ been beyond that field.... And these things -annoy you?” - -For some reason I was beginning to relent towards him. “Not _annoy_,” I -said. “But—imagine yourself writing a play!” - -“I couldn’t.” - -“Well, anything that needs concentration.” - -“Ah!” he said, “of course,” and meditated. His expression became so -eloquent of distress, that I relented still more. After all, there is a -touch of aggression in demanding of a man you don’t know why he hums on -a public footpath. - -“You see,” he said weakly, “it’s a habit.” - -“Oh, I recognise that.” - -“I must stop it.” - -“But not if it puts you out. After all, I had no business—it’s -something of a liberty.” - -“Not at all, sir,” he said, “not at all. I am greatly indebted to you. -I should guard myself against these things. In future I will. Could I -trouble you—once again? That noise?” - -“Something like this,” I said. “Zuzzoo, zuzzoo. But really, you know—” - -“I am greatly obliged to you. In fact, I know I am getting absurdly -absent-minded. You are quite justified, sir—perfectly justified. -Indeed, I am indebted to you. The thing shall end. And now, sir, I have -already brought you farther than I should have done.” - -“I do hope my impertinence—” - -“Not at all, sir, not at all.” - -We regarded each other for a moment. I raised my hat and wished him a -good evening. He responded convulsively, and so we went our ways. - -At the stile I looked back at his receding figure. His bearing had -changed remarkably, he seemed limp, shrunken. The contrast with his -former gesticulating, zuzzoing self took me in some absurd way as -pathetic. I watched him out of sight. Then wishing very heartily I had -kept to my own business, I returned to my bungalow and my play. - -The next evening I saw nothing of him, nor the next. But he was very -much in my mind, and it had occurred to me that as a sentimental comic -character he might serve a useful purpose in the development of my -plot. The third day he called upon me. - -For a time I was puzzled to think what had brought him. He made -indifferent conversation in the most formal way, then abruptly he came -to business. He wanted to buy me out of my bungalow. - -“You see,” he said, “I don’t blame you in the least, but you’ve -destroyed a habit, and it disorganises my day. I’ve walked past here -for years—years. No doubt I’ve hummed.... You’ve made all that -impossible!” - -I suggested he might try some other direction. - -“No. There is no other direction. This is the only one. I’ve inquired. -And now—every afternoon at four—I come to a dead wall.” - -“But, my dear sir, if the thing is so important to you—” - -“It’s vital. You see, I’m—I’m an investigator—I am engaged in a -scientific research. I live—” he paused and seemed to think. “Just over -there,” he said, and pointed suddenly dangerously near my eye. “The -house with white chimneys you see just over the trees. And my -circumstances are abnormal—abnormal. I am on the point of completing -one of the most important—demonstrations—I can assure you one of _the -most important_ demonstrations that have ever been made. It requires -constant thought, constant mental ease and activity. And the afternoon -was my brightest time!—effervescing with new ideas—new points of view.” - -“But why not come by still?” - -“It would be all different. I should be self-conscious. I should think -of you at your play—watching me irritated—instead of thinking of my -work. No! I must have the bungalow.” - -I meditated. Naturally, I wanted to think the matter over thoroughly -before anything decisive was said. I was generally ready enough for -business in those days, and selling always attracted me; but in the -first place it was not my bungalow, and even if I sold it to him at a -good price I might get inconvenienced in the delivery of goods if the -current owner got wind of the transaction, and in the second I was, -well—undischarged. It was clearly a business that required delicate -handling. Moreover, the possibility of his being in pursuit of some -valuable invention also interested me. It occurred to me that I would -like to know more of this research, not with any dishonest intention, -but simply with an idea that to know what it was would be a relief from -play-writing. I threw out feelers. - -He was quite willing to supply information. Indeed, once he was fairly -under way the conversation became a monologue. He talked like a man -long pent up, who has had it over with himself again and again. He -talked for nearly an hour, and I must confess I found it a pretty stiff -bit of listening. But through it all there was the undertone of -satisfaction one feels when one is neglecting work one has set oneself. -During that first interview I gathered very little of the drift of his -work. Half his words were technicalities entirely strange to me, and he -illustrated one or two points with what he was pleased to call -elementary mathematics, computing on an envelope with a copying-ink -pencil, in a manner that made it hard even to seem to understand. -“Yes,” I said, “yes. Go on!” Nevertheless I made out enough to convince -me that he was no mere crank playing at discoveries. In spite of his -crank-like appearance there was a force about him that made that -impossible. Whatever it was, it was a thing with mechanical -possibilities. He told me of a work-shed he had, and of three -assistants—originally jobbing carpenters—whom he had trained. Now, from -the work-shed to the patent office is clearly only one step. He invited -me to see those things. I accepted readily, and took care, by a remark -or so, to underline that. The proposed transfer of the bungalow -remained very conveniently in suspense. - -At last he rose to depart, with an apology for the length of his call. -Talking over his work was, he said, a pleasure enjoyed only too rarely. -It was not often he found such an intelligent listener as myself, he -mingled very little with professional scientific men. - -“So much pettiness,” he explained; “so much intrigue! And really, when -one has an idea—a novel, fertilising idea—I don’t want to be -uncharitable, but—” - -I am a man who believes in impulses. I made what was perhaps a rash -proposition. But you must remember, that I had been alone, play-writing -in Lympne, for fourteen days, and my compunction for his ruined walk -still hung about me. “Why not,” said I, “make this your new habit? In -the place of the one I spoilt? At least, until we can settle about the -bungalow. What you want is to turn over your work in your mind. That -you have always done during your afternoon walk. Unfortunately that’s -over—you can’t get things back as they were. But why not come and talk -about your work to me; use me as a sort of wall against which you may -throw your thoughts and catch them again? It’s certain I don’t know -enough to steal your ideas myself—and I know no scientific men—” - -I stopped. He was considering. Evidently the thing attracted him. “But -I’m afraid I should bore you,” he said. - -“You think I’m too dull?” - -“Oh, no; but technicalities—” - -“Anyhow, you’ve interested me immensely this afternoon.” - -“Of course it _would_ be a great help to me. Nothing clears up one’s -ideas so much as explaining them. Hitherto—” - -“My dear sir, say no more.” - -“But really can you spare the time?” - -“There is no rest like change of occupation,” I said, with profound -conviction. - -The affair was over. On my verandah steps he turned. “I am already -greatly indebted to you,” he said. - -I made an interrogative noise. - -“You have completely cured me of that ridiculous habit of humming,” he -explained. - -I think I said I was glad to be of any service to him, and he turned -away. - -Immediately the train of thought that our conversation had suggested -must have resumed its sway. His arms began to wave in their former -fashion. The faint echo of “zuzzoo” came back to me on the breeze.... - -Well, after all, that was not my affair.... - -He came the next day, and again the next day after that, and delivered -two lectures on physics to our mutual satisfaction. He talked with an -air of being extremely lucid about the “ether” and “tubes of force,” -and “gravitational potential,” and things like that, and I sat in my -other folding-chair and said, “Yes,” “Go on,” “I follow you,” to keep -him going. It was tremendously difficult stuff, but I do not think he -ever suspected how much I did not understand him. There were moments -when I doubted whether I was well employed, but at any rate I was -resting from that confounded play. Now and then things gleamed on me -clearly for a space, only to vanish just when I thought I had hold of -them. Sometimes my attention failed altogether, and I would give it up -and sit and stare at him, wondering whether, after all, it would not be -better to use him as a central figure in a good farce and let all this -other stuff slide. And then, perhaps, I would catch on again for a bit. - -At the earliest opportunity I went to see his house. It was large and -carelessly furnished; there were no servants other than his three -assistants, and his dietary and private life were characterised by a -philosophical simplicity. He was a water-drinker, a vegetarian, and all -those logical disciplinary things. But the sight of his equipment -settled many doubts. It looked like business from cellar to attic—an -amazing little place to find in an out-of-the-way village. The -ground-floor rooms contained benches and apparatus, the bakehouse and -scullery boiler had developed into respectable furnaces, dynamos -occupied the cellar, and there was a gasometer in the garden. He showed -it to me with all the confiding zest of a man who has been living too -much alone. His seclusion was overflowing now in an excess of -confidence, and I had the good luck to be the recipient. - -The three assistants were creditable specimens of the class of -“handy-men” from which they came. Conscientious if unintelligent, -strong, civil, and willing. One, Spargus, who did the cooking and all -the metal work, had been a sailor; a second, Gibbs, was a joiner; and -the third was an ex-jobbing gardener, and now general assistant. They -were the merest labourers. All the intelligent work was done by Cavor. -Theirs was the darkest ignorance compared even with my muddled -impression. - -And now, as to the nature of these inquiries. Here, unhappily, comes a -grave difficulty. I am no scientific expert, and if I were to attempt -to set forth in the highly scientific language of Mr. Cavor the aim to -which his experiments tended, I am afraid I should confuse not only the -reader but myself, and almost certainly I should make some blunder that -would bring upon me the mockery of every up-to-date student of -mathematical physics in the country. The best thing I can do therefore -is, I think to give my impressions in my own inexact language, without -any attempt to wear a garment of knowledge to which I have no claim. - -The object of Mr. Cavor’s search was a substance that should be -“opaque”—he used some other word I have forgotten, but “opaque” conveys -the idea—to “all forms of radiant energy.” “Radiant energy,” he made me -understand, was anything like light or heat, or those Rontgen Rays -there was so much talk about a year or so ago, or the electric waves of -Marconi, or gravitation. All these things, he said, _radiate_ out from -centres, and act on bodies at a distance, whence comes the term -“radiant energy.” Now almost all substances are opaque to some form or -other of radiant energy. Glass, for example, is transparent to light, -but much less so to heat, so that it is useful as a fire-screen; and -alum is transparent to light, but blocks heat completely. A solution of -iodine in carbon bisulphide, on the other hand, completely blocks -light, but is quite transparent to heat. It will hide a fire from you, -but permit all its warmth to reach you. Metals are not only opaque to -light and heat, but also to electrical energy, which passes through -both iodine solution and glass almost as though they were not -interposed. And so on. - -Now all known substances are “transparent” to gravitation. You can use -screens of various sorts to cut off the light or heat, or electrical -influence of the sun, or the warmth of the earth from anything; you can -screen things by sheets of metal from Marconi’s rays, but nothing will -cut off the gravitational attraction of the sun or the gravitational -attraction of the earth. Yet why there should be nothing is hard to -say. Cavor did not see why such a substance should not exist, and -certainly I could not tell him. I had never thought of such a -possibility before. He showed me by calculations on paper, which Lord -Kelvin, no doubt, or Professor Lodge, or Professor Karl Pearson, or any -of those great scientific people might have understood, but which -simply reduced me to a hopeless muddle, that not only was such a -substance possible, but that it must satisfy certain conditions. It was -an amazing piece of reasoning. Much as it amazed and exercised me at -the time, it would be impossible to reproduce it here. “Yes,” I said to -it all, “yes; go on!” Suffice it for this story that he believed he -might be able to manufacture this possible substance opaque to -gravitation out of a complicated alloy of metals and something new—a -new element, I fancy—called, I believe, _helium_, which was sent to him -from London in sealed stone jars. Doubt has been thrown upon this -detail, but I am almost certain it was _helium_ he had sent him in -sealed stone jars. It was certainly something very gaseous and thin. If -only I had taken notes... - -But then, how was I to foresee the necessity of taking notes? - -Any one with the merest germ of an imagination will understand the -extraordinary possibilities of such a substance, and will sympathise a -little with the emotion I felt as this understanding emerged from the -haze of abstruse phrases in which Cavor expressed himself. Comic relief -in a play indeed! It was some time before I would believe that I had -interpreted him aright, and I was very careful not to ask questions -that would have enabled him to gauge the profundity of misunderstanding -into which he dropped his daily exposition. But no one reading the -story of it here will sympathise fully, because from my barren -narrative it will be impossible to gather the strength of my conviction -that this astonishing substance was positively going to be made. - -I do not recall that I gave my play an hour’s consecutive work at any -time after my visit to his house. My imagination had other things to -do. There seemed no limit to the possibilities of the stuff; whichever -way I tried I came on miracles and revolutions. For example, if one -wanted to lift a weight, however enormous, one had only to get a sheet -of this substance beneath it, and one might lift it with a straw. My -first natural impulse was to apply this principle to guns and -ironclads, and all the material and methods of war, and from that to -shipping, locomotion, building, every conceivable form of human -industry. The chance that had brought me into the very birth-chamber of -this new time—it was an epoch, no less—was one of those chances that -come once in a thousand years. The thing unrolled, it expanded and -expanded. Among other things I saw in it my redemption as a business -man. I saw a parent company, and daughter companies, applications to -right of us, applications to left, rings and trusts, privileges, and -concessions spreading and spreading, until one vast, stupendous -Cavorite company ran and ruled the world. - -And I was in it! - -I took my line straight away. I knew I was staking everything, but I -jumped there and then. - -“We’re on absolutely the biggest thing that has ever been invented,” I -said, and put the accent on “we.” “If you want to keep me out of this, -you’ll have to do it with a gun. I’m coming down to be your fourth -labourer to-morrow.” - -He seemed surprised at my enthusiasm, but not a bit suspicious or -hostile. Rather, he was self-depreciatory. He looked at me doubtfully. -“But do you really think—?” he said. “And your play! How about that -play?” - -“It’s vanished!” I cried. “My dear sir, don’t you see what you’ve got? -Don’t you see what you’re going to do?” - -That was merely a rhetorical turn, but positively, he didn’t. At first -I could not believe it. He had not had the beginning of the inkling of -an idea. This astonishing little man had been working on purely -theoretical grounds the whole time! When he said it was “the most -important” research the world had ever seen, he simply meant it squared -up so many theories, settled so much that was in doubt; he had troubled -no more about the application of the stuff he was going to turn out -than if he had been a machine that makes guns. This was a possible -substance, and he was going to make it! _V’la tout_, as the Frenchman -says. - -Beyond that, he was childish! If he made it, it would go down to -posterity as Cavorite or Cavorine, and he would be made an F.R.S., and -his portrait given away as a scientific worthy with _Nature_, and -things like that. And that was all he saw! He would have dropped this -bombshell into the world as though he had discovered a new species of -gnat, if it had not happened that I had come along. And there it would -have lain and fizzled, like one or two other little things these -scientific people have lit and dropped about us. - -When I realised this, it was I did the talking, and Cavor who said, “Go -on!” I jumped up. I paced the room, gesticulating like a boy of twenty. -I tried to make him understand his duties and responsibilities in the -matter—_our_ duties and responsibilities in the matter. I assured him -we might make wealth enough to work any sort of social revolution we -fancied, we might own and order the whole world. I told him of -companies and patents, and the case for secret processes. All these -things seemed to take him much as his mathematics had taken me. A look -of perplexity came into his ruddy little face. He stammered something -about indifference to wealth, but I brushed all that aside. He had got -to be rich, and it was no good his stammering. I gave him to understand -the sort of man I was, and that I had had very considerable business -experience. I did not tell him I was an undischarged bankrupt at the -time, because that was temporary, but I think I reconciled my evident -poverty with my financial claims. And quite insensibly, in the way such -projects grow, the understanding of a Cavorite monopoly grew up between -us. He was to make the stuff, and I was to make the boom. - -I stuck like a leech to the “we”—“you” and “I” didn’t exist for me. - -His idea was that the profits I spoke of might go to endow research, -but that, of course, was a matter we had to settle later. “That’s all -right,” I shouted, “that’s all right.” The great point, as I insisted, -was to get the thing done. - -“Here is a substance,” I cried, “no home, no factory, no fortress, no -ship can dare to be without—more universally applicable even than a -patent medicine. There isn’t a solitary aspect of it, not one of its -ten thousand possible uses that will not make us rich, Cavor, beyond -the dreams of avarice!” - -“No!” he said. “I begin to see. It’s extraordinary how one gets new -points of view by talking over things!” - -“And as it happens you have just talked to the right man!” - -“I suppose no one,” he said, “is absolutely _averse_ to enormous -wealth. Of course there is one thing—” - -He paused. I stood still. - -“It is just possible, you know, that we may not be able to make it -after all! It may be one of those things that are a theoretical -possibility, but a practical absurdity. Or when we make it, there may -be some little hitch!” - -“We’ll tackle the hitch when it comes,” said I. - - - - -II. -The First Making of Cavorite - - -But Cavor’s fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was -concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was -made! - -Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least -expected it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other -things—I wish I knew the particulars now!—and he intended to leave the -mixture a week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had -miscalculated, the last stage in the combination would occur when the -stuff sank to a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But it chanced -that, unknown to Cavor, dissension had arisen about the furnace -tending. Gibbs, who had previously seen to this, had suddenly attempted -to shift it to the man who had been a gardener, on the score that coal -was soil, being dug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the -province of a joiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, -however, that coal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that -he was cook. But Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing -that he was a joiner and that coal is notoriously fossil wood. -Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish the furnace, and no one else did -so, and Cavor was too much immersed in certain interesting problems -concerning a Cavorite flying machine (neglecting the resistance of the -air and one or two other points) to perceive that anything was wrong. -And the premature birth of his invention took place just as he was -coming across the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea. - -I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, -and everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought -me out upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against -the autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just -rose above a gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden -Hills, faint and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out -spacious and serene. And then— - -The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as -they rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then -overtaking them came a huge white flame. The trees about the building -swayed and whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towards -the flare. My ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left me -deaf on one side for life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded. - -I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even as -I did so came the wind. - -Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in -great leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the -same moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through -the screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within -six yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great strides -towards the focus of the disturbance. Cavor, kicking and flapping, came -down again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggled -up and was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishing -at last among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his -house. - -A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance -rushed up towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing -past me, dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the -worst was over. The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere -strong gale, and I became once more aware that I had breath and feet. -By leaning back against the wind I managed to stop, and could collect -such wits as still remained to me. - -In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil -sunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything -was flattened and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my -bungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwards -towards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whose -tall and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house. - -I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to -them, and for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of -smashed branches and fencing that had banked itself against a portion -of his garden wall I perceived something stir. I made a run for this, -but before I reached it a brown object separated itself, rose on two -muddy legs, and protruded two drooping, bleeding hands. Some tattered -ends of garment fluttered out from its middle portion and streamed -before the wind. - -For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that -it was Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward -against the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth. - -He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His -face worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He -looked as damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, -and his remark therefore amazed me exceedingly. - -“Gratulate me,” he gasped; “gratulate me!” - -“Congratulate you!” said I. “Good heavens! What for?” - -“I’ve done it.” - -“You _have_. What on earth caused that explosion?” - -A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it -wasn’t an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, -and we stood clinging to one another. - -“Try and get back—to my bungalow,” I bawled in his ear. He did not hear -me, and shouted something about “three martyrs—science,” and also -something about “not much good.” At the time he laboured under the -impression that his three attendants had perished in the whirlwind. -Happily this was incorrect. Directly he had left for my bungalow they -had gone off to the public-house in Lympne to discuss the question of -the furnaces over some trivial refreshment. - -I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time -he understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to -reach the shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat -in arm-chairs and panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter -articles of furniture were in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage -was done. Happily the kitchen door had stood the pressure upon it, so -that all my crockery and cooking materials had survived. The oil stove -was still burning, and I put on the water to boil again for tea. And -that prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation. - -“Quite correct,” he insisted; “quite correct. I’ve done it, and it’s -all right.” - -“But,” I protested. “All right! Why, there can’t be a rick standing, or -a fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles round....” - -“It’s all right—_really_. I didn’t, of course, foresee this little -upset. My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and I’m apt to -disregard these practical side issues. But it’s all right—” - -“My dear sir,” I cried, “don’t you see you’ve done thousands of pounds’ -worth of damage?” - -“There, I throw myself on your discretion. I’m not a practical man, of -course, but don’t you think they will regard it as a cyclone?” - -“But the explosion—” - -“It was _not_ an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. Only, as I say, I’m -apt to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo business on a -larger scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this -Cavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....” - -He paused. “You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to -gravitation, that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each -other?” - -“Yes,” said I. “Yes.” - -“Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, -and the process of its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the -portions of roof and ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. -I suppose you know—everybody knows nowadays—that, as a usual thing, the -air _has_ weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the -earth, presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a -half pounds to the square inch?” - -“I know that,” said I. “Go on.” - -“I know that too,” he remarked. “Only this shows you how useless -knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this -ceased to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and -the air round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of -fourteen pounds and a half to the square inch upon this suddenly -weightless air. Ah! you begin to see! The air all about the Cavorite -crushed in upon the air above it with irresistible force. The air above -the Cavorite was forced upward violently, the air that rushed in to -replace it immediately lost weight, ceased to exert any pressure, -followed suit, blew the ceiling through and the roof off.... - -“You perceive,” he said, “it formed a sort of atmospheric fountain, a -kind of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself hadn’t -been loose and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you what -would have happened?” - -I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up and up -over that infernal piece of stuff now.” - -“Precisely,” he said. “A huge fountain—” - -“Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the -atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It -would have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff!” - -“Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but as bad—practically. It would -have whipped the air off the world as one peels a banana, and flung it -thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of course—but on -an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little better than if -it never came back!” - -I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations -had been upset. “What do you mean to do now?” I asked. - -“In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some -of this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself -of your domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will -converse more at leisure. It will be wise, I think”—he laid a muddy -hand on my arm—“if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I -know I have caused great damage—probably even dwelling-houses may be -ruined here and there upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I -cannot possibly pay for the damage I have done, and if the real cause -of this is published, it will lead only to heartburning and the -obstruction of my work. One cannot foresee _everything_, you know, and -I cannot consent for one moment to add the burthen of practical -considerations to my theorising. Later on, when you have come in with -your practical mind, and Cavorite is floated—floated _is_ the word, -isn’t it?—and it has realised all you anticipate for it, we may set -matters right with these persons. But not now—not now. If no other -explanation is offered, people, in the present unsatisfactory state of -meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a cyclone; there might -be a public subscription, and as my house has collapsed and been burnt, -I should in that case receive a considerable share in the compensation, -which would be extremely helpful to the prosecution of our researches. -But if it is known that _I_ caused this, there will be no public -subscription, and everybody will be put out. Practically I should never -get a chance of working in peace again. My three assistants may or may -not have perished. That is a detail. If they have, it is no great loss; -they were more zealous than able, and this premature event must be -largely due to their joint neglect of the furnace. If they have not -perished, I doubt if they have the intelligence to explain the affair. -They will accept the cyclone story. And if during the temporary -unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one of the -untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours—” - -He paused and regarded me. - -A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to -entertain. - -“Perhaps,” said I, rising to my feet, “we had better begin by looking -for a trowel,” and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the -greenhouse. - -And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question -alone. It was clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s society I had -not foreseen. The absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating -the terrestrial globe, might at any moment result in some other grave -inconvenience. On the other hand I was young, my affairs were in a -mess, and I was in just the mood for reckless adventure—with a chance -of something good at the end of it. I had quite settled in my mind that -I was to have half at least in that aspect of the affair. Fortunately I -held my bungalow, as I have already explained, on a three-year -agreement, without being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, -such as there was of it, had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, -insured, and altogether devoid of associations. In the end I decided to -keep on with him, and see the business through. - -Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer -doubted at all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began -to have doubts about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to -work at once to reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our -experiments. Cavor talked more on my level than he had ever done -before, when it came to the question of how we should make the stuff -next. - -“Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a sort of glee I had -not expected in him, “of course we must make it again. We have caught a -Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good -and all. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, -we will. But—there _must_ be risks! There must be. In experimental work -there always are. And here, as a practical man, _you_ must come in. For -my own part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very -thin. Yet I don’t know. I have a certain dim perception of another -method. I can hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into -my mind, while I was rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, -and very doubtful how the whole adventure was to end, as being -absolutely the thing I ought to have done.” - -Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept -at work restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it -became absolutely necessary to decide upon the precise form and method -of our second attempt. Our only hitch was the strike of the three -labourers, who objected to my activity as a foreman. But that matter we -compromised after two days’ delay. - - - - -III. -The Building of the sphere - - -I remember the occasion very distinctly when Cavor told me of his idea -of the sphere. He had had intimations of it before, but at the time it -seemed to come to him in a rush. We were returning to the bungalow for -tea, and on the way he fell humming. Suddenly he shouted, “That’s it! -That finishes it! A sort of roller blind!” - -“Finishes what?” I asked. - -“Space—anywhere! The moon.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Mean? Why—it must be a sphere! That’s what I mean!” - -I saw I was out of it, and for a time I let him talk in his own -fashion. I hadn’t the ghost of an idea then of his drift. But after he -had taken tea he made it clear to me. - -“It’s like this,” he said. “Last time I ran this stuff that cuts things -off from gravitation into a flat tank with an overlap that held it -down. And directly it had cooled and the manufacture was completed all -that uproar happened, nothing above it weighed anything, the air went -squirting up, the house squirted up, and if the stuff itself hadn’t -squirted up too, I don’t know what would have happened! But suppose the -substance is loose, and quite free to go up?” - -“It will go up at once!” - -“Exactly. With no more disturbance than firing a big gun.” - -“But what good will that do?” - -“I’m going up with it!” - -I put down my teacup and stared at him. - -“Imagine a sphere,” he explained, “large enough to hold two people and -their luggage. It will be made of steel lined with thick glass; it will -contain a proper store of solidified air, concentrated food, water -distilling apparatus, and so forth. And enamelled, as it were, on the -outer steel—” - -“Cavorite?” - -“Yes.” - -“But how will you get inside?” - -“There was a similar problem about a dumpling.” - -“Yes, I know. But how?” - -“That’s perfectly easy. An air-tight manhole is all that is needed. -That, of course, will have to be a little complicated; there will have -to be a valve, so that things may be thrown out, if necessary, without -much loss of air.” - -“Like Jules Verne’s thing in _A Trip to the Moon_.” - -But Cavor was not a reader of fiction. - -“I begin to see,” I said slowly. “And you could get in and screw -yourself up while the Cavorite was warm, and as soon as it cooled it -would become impervious to gravitation, and off you would fly—” - -“At a tangent.” - -“You would go off in a straight line—” I stopped abruptly. “What is to -prevent the thing travelling in a straight line into space for ever?” I -asked. “You’re not safe to get anywhere, and if you do—how will you get -back?” - -“I’ve just thought of that,” said Cavor. “That’s what I meant when I -said the thing is finished. The inner glass sphere can be air-tight, -and, except for the manhole, continuous, and the steel sphere can be -made in sections, each section capable of rolling up after the fashion -of a roller blind. These can easily be worked by springs, and released -and checked by electricity conveyed by platinum wires fused through the -glass. All that is merely a question of detail. So you see, that except -for the thickness of the blind rollers, the Cavorite exterior of the -sphere will consist of windows or blinds, whichever you like to call -them. Well, when all these windows or blinds are shut, no light, no -heat, no gravitation, no radiant energy of any sort will get at the -inside of the sphere, it will fly on through space in a straight line, -as you say. But open a window, imagine one of the windows open. Then at -once any heavy body that chances to be in that direction will attract -us—” - -I sat taking it in. - -“You see?” he said. - -“Oh, I _see_.” - -“Practically we shall be able to tack about in space just as we wish. -Get attracted by this and that.” - -“Oh, yes. _That’s_ clear enough. Only—” - -“Well?” - -“I don’t quite see what we shall do it for! It’s really only jumping -off the world and back again.” - -“Surely! For example, one might go to the moon.” - -“And when one got there? What would you find?” - -“We should see—Oh! consider the new knowledge.” - -“Is there air there?” - -“There may be.” - -“It’s a fine idea,” I said, “but it strikes me as a large order all the -same. The moon! I’d much rather try some smaller things first.” - -“They’re out of the question, because of the air difficulty.” - -“Why not apply that idea of spring blinds—Cavorite blinds in strong -steel cases—to lifting weights?” - -“It wouldn’t work,” he insisted. “After all, to go into outer space is -not so much worse, if at all, than a polar expedition. Men go on polar -expeditions.” - -“Not business men. And besides, they get paid for polar expeditions. -And if anything goes wrong there are relief parties. But this—it’s just -firing ourselves off the world for nothing.” - -“Call it prospecting.” - -“You’ll have to call it that.... One might make a book of it perhaps,” -I said. - -“I have no doubt there will be minerals,” said Cavor. - -“For example?” - -“Oh! sulphur, ores, gold perhaps, possibly new elements.” - -“Cost of carriage,” I said. “You know you’re _not_ a practical man. The -moon’s a quarter of a million miles away.” - -“It seems to me it wouldn’t cost much to cart any weight anywhere if -you packed it in a Cavorite case.” - -I had not thought of that. “Delivered free on head of purchaser, eh?” - -“It isn’t as though we were confined to the moon.” - -“You mean?” - -“There’s Mars—clear atmosphere, novel surroundings, exhilarating sense -of lightness. It might be pleasant to go there.” - -“Is there air on Mars?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“Seems as though you might run it as a sanatorium. By the way, how far -is Mars?” - -“Two hundred million miles at present,” said Cavor airily; “and you go -close by the sun.” - -My imagination was picking itself up again. “After all,” I said, -“there’s something in these things. There’s travel—” - -An extraordinary possibility came rushing into my mind. Suddenly I saw, -as in a vision, the whole solar system threaded with Cavorite liners -and spheres _de luxe_. “Rights of pre-emption,” came floating into my -head—planetary rights of pre-emption. I recalled the old Spanish -monopoly in American gold. It wasn’t as though it was just this planet -or that—it was all of them. I stared at Cavor’s rubicund face, and -suddenly my imagination was leaping and dancing. I stood up, I walked -up and down; my tongue was unloosened. - -“I’m beginning to take it in,” I said; “I’m beginning to take it in.” -The transition from doubt to enthusiasm seemed to take scarcely any -time at all. “But this is tremendous!” I cried. “This is Imperial! I -haven’t been dreaming of this sort of thing.” - -Once the chill of my opposition was removed, his own pent-up excitement -had play. He too got up and paced. He too gesticulated and shouted. We -behaved like men inspired. We _were_ men inspired. - -“We’ll settle all that!” he said in answer to some incidental -difficulty that had pulled me up. “We’ll soon settle that! We’ll start -the drawings for mouldings this very night.” - -“We’ll start them now,” I responded, and we hurried off to the -laboratory to begin upon this work forthwith. - -I was like a child in Wonderland all that night. The dawn found us both -still at work—we kept our electric light going heedless of the day. I -remember now exactly how these drawings looked. I shaded and tinted -while Cavor drew—smudged and haste-marked they were in every line, but -wonderfully correct. We got out the orders for the steel blinds and -frames we needed from that night’s work, and the glass sphere was -designed within a week. We gave up our afternoon conversations and our -old routine altogether. We worked, and we slept and ate when we could -work no longer for hunger and fatigue. Our enthusiasm infected even our -three men, though they had no idea what the sphere was for. Through -those days the man Gibbs gave up walking, and went everywhere, even -across the room, at a sort of fussy run. - -And it grew—the sphere. December passed, January—I spent a day with a -broom sweeping a path through the snow from bungalow to -laboratory—February, March. By the end of March the completion was in -sight. In January had come a team of horses, a huge packing-case; we -had our thick glass sphere now ready, and in position under the crane -we had rigged to sling it into the steel shell. All the bars and blinds -of the steel shell—it was not really a spherical shell, but polyhedral, -with a roller blind to each facet—had arrived by February, and the -lower half was bolted together. The Cavorite was half made by March, -the metallic paste had gone through two of the stages in its -manufacture, and we had plastered quite half of it on to the steel bars -and blinds. It was astonishing how closely we kept to the lines of -Cavor’s first inspiration in working out the scheme. When the bolting -together of the sphere was finished, he proposed to remove the rough -roof of the temporary laboratory in which the work was done, and build -a furnace about it. So the last stage of Cavorite making, in which the -paste is heated to a dull red glow in a stream of helium, would be -accomplished when it was already on the sphere. - -And then we had to discuss and decide what provisions we were to -take—compressed foods, concentrated essences, steel cylinders -containing reserve oxygen, an arrangement for removing carbonic acid -and waste from the air and restoring oxygen by means of sodium -peroxide, water condensers, and so forth. I remember the little heap -they made in the corner—tins, and rolls, and boxes—convincingly -matter-of-fact. - -It was a strenuous time, with little chance of thinking. But one day, -when we were drawing near the end, an odd mood came over me. I had been -bricking up the furnace all the morning, and I sat down by these -possessions dead beat. Everything seemed dull and incredible. - -“But look here, Cavor,” I said. “After all! What’s it all for?” - -He smiled. “The thing now is to go.” - -“The moon,” I reflected. “But what do you expect? I thought the moon -was a dead world.” - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -“We’re going to see.” - -“_Are_ we?” I said, and stared before me. - -“You are tired,” he remarked. “You’d better take a walk this -afternoon.” - -“No,” I said obstinately; “I’m going to finish this brickwork.” - -And I did, and insured myself a night of insomnia. I don’t think I have -ever had such a night. I had some bad times before my business -collapse, but the very worst of those was sweet slumber compared to -this infinity of aching wakefulness. I was suddenly in the most -enormous funk at the thing we were going to do. - -I do not remember before that night thinking at all of the risks we -were running. Now they came like that array of spectres that once -beleaguered Prague, and camped around me. The strangeness of what we -were about to do, the unearthliness of it, overwhelmed me. I was like a -man awakened out of pleasant dreams to the most horrible surroundings. -I lay, eyes wide open, and the sphere seemed to get more flimsy and -feeble, and Cavor more unreal and fantastic, and the whole enterprise -madder and madder every moment. - -I got out of bed and wandered about. I sat at the window and stared at -the immensity of space. Between the stars was the void, the -unfathomable darkness! I tried to recall the fragmentary knowledge of -astronomy I had gained in my irregular reading, but it was all too -vague to furnish any idea of the things we might expect. At last I got -back to bed and snatched some moments of sleep—moments of nightmare -rather—in which I fell and fell and fell for evermore into the abyss of -the sky. - -I astonished Cavor at breakfast. I told him shortly, “I’m not coming -with you in the sphere.” - -I met all his protests with a sullen persistence. “The thing’s too -mad,” I said, “and I won’t come. The thing’s too mad.” - -I would not go with him to the laboratory. I fretted about my bungalow -for a time, and then took hat and stick and set out alone, I knew not -whither. It chanced to be a glorious morning: a warm wind and deep blue -sky, the first green of spring abroad, and multitudes of birds singing. -I lunched on beef and beer in a little public-house near Elham, and -startled the landlord by remarking _apropos_ of the weather, “A man who -leaves the world when days of this sort are about is a fool!” - -“That’s what I says when I heerd on it!” said the landlord, and I found -that for one poor soul at least this world had proved excessive, and -there had been a throat-cutting. I went on with a new twist to my -thoughts. - -In the afternoon I had a pleasant sleep in a sunny place, and went on -my way refreshed. - -I came to a comfortable-looking inn near Canterbury. It was bright with -creepers, and the landlady was a clean old woman and took my eye. I -found I had just enough money to pay for my lodging with her. I decided -to stop the night there. She was a talkative body, and among many other -particulars I learnt she had never been to London. “Canterbury’s as far -as ever I been,” she said. “I’m not one of your gad-about sort.” - -“How would you like a trip to the moon?” I cried. - -“I never did hold with them ballooneys,” she said evidently under the -impression that this was a common excursion enough. “I wouldn’t go up -in one—not for ever so.” - -This struck me as being funny. After I had supped I sat on a bench by -the door of the inn and gossiped with two labourers about brickmaking, -and motor cars, and the cricket of last year. And in the sky a faint -new crescent, blue and vague as a distant Alp, sank westward over the -sun. - -The next day I returned to Cavor. “I am coming,” I said. “I’ve been a -little out of order, that’s all.” - -That was the only time I felt any serious doubt our enterprise. Nerves -purely! After that I worked a little more carefully, and took a trudge -for an hour every day. And at last, save for the heating in the -furnace, our labours were at an end. - - - - -IV. -Inside the Sphere - - -“Go on,” said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and -looked down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. -It was evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was -upon everything. - -I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom -of the sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other -impedimenta from Cavor. The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at -eighty, and as we should lose little or none of this by radiation, we -were dressed in shoes and thin flannels. We had, however, a bundle of -thick woollen clothing and several thick blankets to guard against -mischance. - -By Cavor’s direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, -and so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He -walked about the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had -overlooked, and then crawled in after me. I noted something in his -hand. - -“What have you got there?” I asked. - -“Haven’t you brought anything to read?” - -“Good Lord! No.” - -“I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties— The voyage may last— We -may be weeks!” - -“But—” - -“We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no occupation.” - -“I wish I’d known—” - -He peered out of the manhole. “Look!” he said. “There’s something -there!” - -“Is there time?” - -“We shall be an hour.” - -I looked out. It was an old number of _Tit-Bits_ that one of the men -must have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn _Lloyd’s -News_. I scrambled back into the sphere with these things. “What have -you got?” I said. - -I took the book from his hand and read, “The Works of William -Shakespeare”. - -He coloured slightly. “My education has been so purely scientific—” he -said apologetically. - -“Never read him?” - -“Never.” - -“He knew a little, you know—in an irregular sort of way.” - -“Precisely what I am told,” said Cavor. - -I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he -pressed a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The -little oblong of twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time -neither of us spoke. Although our case would not be impervious to -sound, everything was very still. I perceived there was nothing to grip -when the shock of our start should come, and I realised that I should -be uncomfortable for want of a chair. - -“Why have we no chairs?” I asked. - -“I’ve settled all that,” said Cavor. “We won’t need them.” - -“Why not?” - -“You will see,” he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to talk. - -I became silent. Suddenly it had come to me clear and vivid that I was -a fool to be inside that sphere. Even now, I asked myself, is to too -late to withdraw? The world outside the sphere, I knew, would be cold -and inhospitable enough for me—for weeks I had been living on subsidies -from Cavor—but after all, would it be as cold as the infinite zero, as -inhospitable as empty space? If it had not been for the appearance of -cowardice, I believe that even then I should have made him let me out. -But I hesitated on that score, and hesitated, and grew fretful and -angry, and the time passed. - -There came a little jerk, a noise like champagne being uncorked in -another room, and a faint whistling sound. For just one instant I had a -sense of enormous tension, a transient conviction that my feet were -pressing downward with a force of countless tons. It lasted for an -infinitesimal time. - -But it stirred me to action. “Cavor!” I said into the darkness, “my -nerve’s in rags. I don’t think—” - -I stopped. He made no answer. - -“Confound it!” I cried; “I’m a fool! What business have I here? I’m not -coming, Cavor. The thing’s too risky. I’m getting out.” - -“You can’t,” he said. - -“Can’t! We’ll soon see about that!” - -He made no answer for ten seconds. “It’s too late for us to quarrel -now, Bedford,” he said. “That little jerk was the start. Already we are -flying as swiftly as a bullet up into the gulf of space.” - -“I—” I said, and then it didn’t seem to matter what happened. For a -time I was, as it were, stunned; I had nothing to say. It was just as -if I had never heard of this idea of leaving the world before. Then I -perceived an unaccountable change in my bodily sensations. It was a -feeling of lightness, of unreality. Coupled with that was a queer -sensation in the head, an apoplectic effect almost, and a thumping of -blood vessels at the ears. Neither of these feelings diminished as time -went on, but at last I got so used to them that I experienced no -inconvenience. - -I heard a click, and a little glow lamp came into being. - -I saw Cavor’s face, as white as I felt my own to be. We regarded one -another in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him -made him seem as though he floated in a void. - -“Well, we’re committed,” I said at last. - -“Yes,” he said, “we’re committed.” - -“Don’t move,” he exclaimed, at some suggestion of a gesture. “Let your -muscles keep quite lax—as if you were in bed. We are in a little -universe of our own. Look at those things!” - -He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the -blankets in the bottom of the sphere. I was astonished to see that they -were floating now nearly a foot from the spherical wall. Then I saw -from his shadow that Cavor was no longer leaning against the glass. I -thrust out my hand behind me, and found that I too was suspended in -space, clear of the glass. - -I did not cry out nor gesticulate, but fear came upon me. It was like -being held and lifted by something—you know not what. The mere touch of -my hand against the glass moved me rapidly. I understood what had -happened, but that did not prevent my being afraid. We were cut off -from all exterior gravitation, only the attraction of objects within -our sphere had effect. Consequently everything that was not fixed to -the glass was falling—slowly because of the slightness of our -masses—towards the centre of gravity of our little world, which seemed -to be somewhere about the middle of the sphere, but rather nearer to -myself than Cavor, on account of my greater weight. - -“We must turn round,” said Cavor, “and float back to back, with the -things between us.” - -It was the strangest sensation conceivable, floating thus loosely in -space, at first indeed horribly strange, and when the horror passed, -not disagreeable at all, exceeding restful; indeed, the nearest thing -in earthly experience to it that I know is lying on a very thick, soft -feather bed. But the quality of utter detachment and independence! I -had not reckoned on things like this. I had expected a violent jerk at -starting, a giddy sense of speed. Instead I felt—as if I were -disembodied. It was not like the beginning of a journey; it was like -the beginning of a dream. - - - - -V. -The Journey to the Moon - - -Presently Cavor extinguished the light. He said we had not overmuch -energy stored, and that what we had we must economise for reading. For -a time, whether it was long or short I do not know, there was nothing -but blank darkness. - -A question floated up out of the void. “How are we pointing?” I said. -“What is our direction?” - -“We are flying away from the earth at a tangent, and as the moon is -near her third quarter we are going somewhere towards her. I will open -a blind—” - -Came a click, and then a window in the outer case yawned open. The sky -outside was as black as the darkness within the sphere, but the shape -of the open window was marked by an infinite number of stars. - -Those who have only seen the starry sky from the earth cannot imagine -its appearance when the vague, half luminous veil of our air has been -withdrawn. The stars we see on earth are the mere scattered survivors -that penetrate our misty atmosphere. But now at last I could realise -the meaning of the hosts of heaven! - -Stranger things we were presently to see, but that airless, star-dusted -sky! Of all things, I think that will be one of the last I shall -forget. - -The little window vanished with a click, another beside it snapped open -and instantly closed, and then a third, and for a moment I had to close -my eyes because of the blinding splendour of the waning moon. - -For a space I had to stare at Cavor and the white-lit things about me -to season my eyes to light again, before I could turn them towards that -pallid glare. - -Four windows were open in order that the gravitation of the moon might -act upon all the substances in our sphere. I found I was no longer -floating freely in space, but that my feet were resting on the glass in -the direction of the moon. The blankets and cases of provisions were -also creeping slowly down the glass, and presently came to rest so as -to block out a portion of the view. It seemed to me, of course, that I -looked “down” when I looked at the moon. On earth “down” means -earthward, the way things fall, and “up” the reverse direction. Now the -pull of gravitation was towards the moon, and for all I knew to the -contrary our earth was overhead. And, of course, when all the Cavorite -blinds were closed, “down” was towards the centre of our sphere, and -“up” towards its outer wall. - -It was curiously unlike earthly experience, too, to have the light -coming _up_ to one. On earth light falls from above, or comes slanting -down sideways, but here it came from beneath our feet, and to see our -shadows we had to look up. - -At first it gave me a sort of vertigo to stand only on thick glass and -look down upon the moon through hundreds of thousands of miles of -vacant space; but this sickness passed very speedily. And then—the -splendour of the sight! - -The reader may imagine it best if he will lie on the ground some warm -summer’s night and look between his upraised feet at the moon, but for -some reason, probably because the absence of air made it so much more -luminous, the moon seemed already considerably larger than it does from -earth. The minutest details of its surface were acutely clear. And -since we did not see it through air, its outline was bright and sharp, -there was no glow or halo about it, and the star-dust that covered the -sky came right to its very margin, and marked the outline of its -unilluminated part. And as I stood and stared at the moon between my -feet, that perception of the impossible that had been with me off and -on ever since our start, returned again with tenfold conviction. - -“Cavor,” I said, “this takes me queerly. Those companies we were going -to run, and all that about minerals?” - -“Well?” - -“I don’t see ‘em here.” - -“No,” said Cavor; “but you’ll get over all that.” - -“I suppose I’m made to turn right side up again. Still, _this_— For a -moment I could half believe there never was a world.” - -“That copy of _Lloyd’s News_ might help you.” - -I stared at the paper for a moment, then held it above the level of my -face, and found I could read it quite easily. I struck a column of mean -little advertisements. “A gentleman of private means is willing to lend -money,” I read. I knew that gentleman. Then somebody eccentric wanted -to sell a Cutaway bicycle, “quite new and cost £15,” for five pounds; -and a lady in distress wished to dispose of some fish knives and forks, -“a wedding present,” at a great sacrifice. No doubt some simple soul -was sagely examining these knives and forks, and another triumphantly -riding off on that bicycle, and a third trustfully consulting that -benevolent gentleman of means even as I read. I laughed, and let the -paper drift from my hand. - -“Are we visible from the earth?” I asked. - -“Why?” - -“I knew some one who was rather interested in astronomy. It occurred to -me that it would be rather odd if—my friend—chanced to be looking -through some telescope.” - -“It would need the most powerful telescope on earth even now to see us -as the minutest speck.” - -For a time I stared in silence at the moon. - -“It’s a world,” I said; “one feels that infinitely more than one ever -did on earth. People perhaps—” - -“People!” he exclaimed. “_No!_ Banish all that! Think yourself a sort -of ultra-arctic voyager exploring the desolate places of space. Look at -it!” - -He waved his hand at the shining whiteness below. “It’s dead—dead! Vast -extinct volcanoes, lava wildernesses, tumbled wastes of snow, or frozen -carbonic acid, or frozen air, and everywhere landslip seams and cracks -and gulfs. Nothing happens. Men have watched this planet systematically -with telescopes for over two hundred years. How much change do you -think they have seen?” - -“None.” - -“They have traced two indisputable landslips, a doubtful crack, and one -slight periodic change of colour, and that’s all.” - -“I didn’t know they’d traced even that.” - -“Oh, yes. But as for people—!” - -“By the way,” I asked, “how small a thing will the biggest telescopes -show upon the moon?” - -“One could see a fair-sized church. One could certainly see any towns -or buildings, or anything like the handiwork of men. There might -perhaps be insects, something in the way of ants, for example, so that -they could hide in deep burrows from the lunar light, or some new sort -of creatures having no earthly parallel. That is the most probable -thing, if we are to find life there at all. Think of the difference in -conditions! Life must fit itself to a day as long as fourteen earthly -days, a cloudless sun-blaze of fourteen days, and then a night of equal -length, growing ever colder and colder under these cold, sharp stars. -In that night there must be cold, the ultimate cold, absolute zero, -273° C. below the earthly freezing point. Whatever life there is must -hibernate through _that_, and rise again each day.” - -He mused. “One can imagine something worm-like,” he said, “taking its -air solid as an earth-worm swallows earth, or thick-skinned monsters—” - -“By the bye,” I said, “why didn’t we bring a gun?” - -He did not answer that question. “No,” he concluded, “we just have to -go. We shall see when we get there.” - -I remembered something. “Of course, there’s my minerals, anyhow,” I -said; “whatever the conditions may be.” - -Presently he told me he wished to alter our course a little by letting -the earth tug at us for a moment. He was going to open one earthward -blind for thirty seconds. He warned me that it would make my head swim, -and advised me to extend my hands against the glass to break my fall. I -did as he directed, and thrust my feet against the bales of food cases -and air cylinders to prevent their falling upon me. Then with a click -the window flew open. I fell clumsily upon hands and face, and saw for -a moment between my black extended fingers our mother earth—a planet in -a downward sky. - -We were still very near—Cavor told me the distance was perhaps eight -hundred miles and the huge terrestrial disc filled all heaven. But -already it was plain to see that the world was a globe. The land below -us was in twilight and vague, but westward the vast grey stretches of -the Atlantic shone like molten silver under the receding day. I think I -recognised the cloud-dimmed coast-lines of France and Spain and the -south of England, and then, with a click, the shutter closed again, and -I found myself in a state of extraordinary confusion sliding slowly -over the smooth glass. - -When at last things settled themselves in my mind again, it seemed -quite beyond question that the moon was “down” and under my feet, and -that the earth was somewhere away on the level of the horizon—the earth -that had been “down” to me and my kindred since the beginning of -things. - -So slight were the exertions required of us, so easy did the practical -annihilation of our weight make all we had to do, that the necessity -for taking refreshment did not occur to us for nearly six hours (by -Cavor’s chronometer) after our start. I was amazed at that lapse of -time. Even then I was satisfied with very little. Cavor examined the -apparatus for absorbing carbonic acid and water, and pronounced it to -be in satisfactory order, our consumption of oxygen having been -extraordinarily slight. And our talk being exhausted for the time, and -there being nothing further for us to do, we gave way to a curious -drowsiness that had come upon us, and spreading our blankets on the -bottom of the sphere in such a manner as to shut out most of the -moonlight, wished each other good-night, and almost immediately fell -asleep. - -And so, sleeping, and sometimes talking and reading a little, and at -times eating, although without any keenness of appetite,[1] but for the -most part in a sort of quiescence that was neither waking nor slumber, -we fell through a space of time that had neither night nor day in it, -silently, softly, and swiftly down towards the moon. - - [1] It is a curious thing, that while we were in the sphere we felt - not the slightest desire for food, nor did we feel the want of it when - we abstained. At first we forced our appetites, but afterwards we - fasted completely. Altogether we did not consume one-hundredth part of - the compressed provisions we had brought with us. The amount of - carbonic acid we breathed was also unnaturally low, but why this was, - I am quite unable to explain. - - - - -VI. -The Landing on the Moon - - -I remember how one day Cavor suddenly opened six of our shutters and -blinded me so that I cried aloud at him. The whole area was moon, a -stupendous scimitar of white dawn with its edge hacked out by notches -of darkness, the crescent shore of an ebbing tide of darkness, out of -which peaks and pinnacles came glittering into the blaze of the sun. I -take it the reader has seen pictures or photographs of the moon and -that I need not describe the broader features of that landscape, those -spacious ring-like ranges vaster than any terrestrial mountains, their -summits shining in the day, their shadows harsh and deep, the grey -disordered plains, the ridges, hills, and craterlets, all passing at -last from a blazing illumination into a common mystery of black. -Athwart this world we were flying scarcely a hundred miles above its -crests and pinnacles. And now we could see, what no eye on earth will -ever see, that under the blaze of the day the harsh outlines of the -rocks and ravines of the plains and crater floor grew grey and -indistinct under a thickening haze, that the white of their lit -surfaces broke into lumps and patches, and broke again and shrank and -vanished, and that here and there strange tints of brown and olive grew -and spread. - -But little time we had for watching then. For now we had come to the -real danger of our journey. We had to drop ever closer to the moon as -we spun about it, to slacken our pace and watch our chance, until at -last we could dare to drop upon its surface. - -For Cavor that was a time of intense exertion; for me it was an anxious -inactivity. I seemed perpetually to be getting out of his way. He leapt -about the sphere from point to point with an agility that would have -been impossible on earth. He was perpetually opening and closing the -Cavorite windows, making calculations, consulting his chronometer by -means of the glow lamp during those last eventful hours. For a long -time we had all our windows closed and hung silently in darkness -hurling through space. - -Then he was feeling for the shutter studs, and suddenly four windows -were open. I staggered and covered my eyes, drenched and scorched and -blinded by the unaccustomed splendour of the sun beneath my feet. Then -again the shutters snapped, leaving my brain spinning in a darkness -that pressed against the eyes. And after that I floated in another -vast, black silence. - -Then Cavor switched on the electric light, and told me he proposed to -bind all our luggage together with the blankets about it, against the -concussion of our descent. We did this with our windows closed, because -in that way our goods arranged themselves naturally at the centre of -the sphere. That too was a strange business; we two men floating loose -in that spherical space, and packing and pulling ropes. Imagine it if -you can! No up nor down, and every effort resulting in unexpected -movements. Now I would be pressed against the glass with the full force -of Cavor’s thrust, now I would be kicking helplessly in a void. Now the -star of the electric light would be overhead, now under foot. Now -Cavor’s feet would float up before my eyes, and now we would be -crossways to each other. But at last our goods were safely bound -together in a big soft bale, all except two blankets with head holes -that we were to wrap about ourselves. - -Then for a flash Cavor opened a window moonward, and we saw that we -were dropping towards a huge central crater with a number of minor -craters grouped in a sort of cross about it. And then again Cavor flung -our little sphere open to the scorching, blinding sun. I think he was -using the sun’s attraction as a brake. “Cover yourself with a blanket,” -he cried, thrusting himself from me, and for a moment I did not -understand. - -Then I hauled the blanket from beneath my feet and got it about me and -over my head and eyes. Abruptly he closed the shutters again, snapped -one open again and closed it, then suddenly began snapping them all -open, each safely into its steel roller. There came a jar, and then we -were rolling over and over, bumping against the glass and against the -big bale of our luggage, and clutching at each other, and outside some -white substance splashed as if we were rolling down a slope of snow.... - -Over, clutch, bump, clutch, bump, over.... - -Came a thud, and I was half buried under the bale of our possessions, -and for a space everything was still. Then I could hear Cavor puffing -and grunting, and the snapping of a shutter in its sash. I made an -effort, thrust back our blanket-wrapped luggage, and emerged from -beneath it. Our open windows were just visible as a deeper black set -with stars. - -We were still alive, and we were lying in the darkness of the shadow of -the wall of the great crater into which we had fallen. - -We sat getting our breath again, and feeling the bruises on our limbs. -I don’t think either of us had had a very clear expectation of such -rough handling as we had received. I struggled painfully to my feet. -“And now,” said I, “to look at the landscape of the moon! But—! It’s -tremendously dark, Cavor!” - -The glass was dewy, and as I spoke I wiped at it with my blanket. -“We’re half an hour or so beyond the day,” he said. “We must wait.” - -It was impossible to distinguish anything. We might have been in a -sphere of steel for all that we could see. My rubbing with the blanket -simply smeared the glass, and as fast as I wiped it, it became opaque -again with freshly condensed moisture mixed with an increasing quantity -of blanket hairs. Of course I ought not to have used the blanket. In my -efforts to clear the glass I slipped upon the damp surface, and hurt my -shin against one of the oxygen cylinders that protruded from our bale. - -The thing was exasperating—it was absurd. Here we were just arrived -upon the moon, amidst we knew not what wonders, and all we could see -was the grey and streaming wall of the bubble in which we had come. - -“Confound it!” I said, “but at this rate we might have stopped at -home;” and I squatted on the bale and shivered, and drew my blanket -closer about me. - -Abruptly the moisture turned to spangles and fronds of frost. “Can you -reach the electric heater,” said Cavor. “Yes—that black knob. Or we -shall freeze.” - -I did not wait to be told twice. “And now,” said I, “what are we to -do?” - -“Wait,” he said. - -“Wait?” - -“Of course. We shall have to wait until our air gets warm again, and -then this glass will clear. We can’t do anything till then. It’s night -here yet; we must wait for the day to overtake us. Meanwhile, don’t you -feel hungry?” - -For a space I did not answer him, but sat fretting. I turned -reluctantly from the smeared puzzle of the glass and stared at his -face. “Yes,” I said, “I am hungry. I feel somehow enormously -disappointed. I had expected—I don’t know what I had expected, but not -this.” - -I summoned my philosophy, and rearranging my blanket about me sat down -on the bale again and began my first meal on the moon. I don’t think I -finished it—I forget. Presently, first in patches, then running rapidly -together into wider spaces, came the clearing of the glass, came the -drawing of the misty veil that hid the moon world from our eyes. - -We peered out upon the landscape of the moon. - - - - -VII. -Sunrise on the Moon - - -As we saw it first it was the wildest and most desolate of scenes. We -were in an enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain, the floor of -the giant crater. Its cliff-like walls closed us in on every side. From -the westward the light of the unseen sun fell upon them, reaching to -the very foot of the cliff, and showed a disordered escarpment of drab -and greyish rock, lined here and there with banks and crevices of snow. -This was perhaps a dozen miles away, but at first no intervening -atmosphere diminished in the slightest the minutely detailed brilliancy -with which these things glared at us. They stood out clear and dazzling -against a background of starry blackness that seemed to our earthly -eyes rather a gloriously spangled velvet curtain than the spaciousness -of the sky. - -The eastward cliff was at first merely a starless selvedge to the -starry dome. No rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the -commencing day. Only the Corona, the Zodiacal light, a huge -cone-shaped, luminous haze, pointing up towards the splendour of the -morning star, warned us of the imminent nearness of the sun. - -Whatever light was about us was reflected by the westward cliffs. It -showed a huge undulating plain, cold and grey, a grey that deepened -eastward into the absolute raven darkness of the cliff shadow. -Innumerable rounded grey summits, ghostly hummocks, billows of snowy -substance, stretching crest beyond crest into the remote obscurity, -gave us our first inkling of the distance of the crater wall. These -hummocks looked like snow. At the time I thought they were snow. But -they were not—they were mounds and masses of frozen air. - -So it was at first; and then, sudden, swift, and amazing, came the -lunar day. - -The sunlight had crept down the cliff, it touched the drifted masses at -its base and incontinently came striding with seven-leagued boots -towards us. The distant cliff seemed to shift and quiver, and at the -touch of the dawn a reek of grey vapour poured upward from the crater -floor, whirls and puffs and drifting wraiths of grey, thicker and -broader and denser, until at last the whole westward plain was steaming -like a wet handkerchief held before the fire, and the westward cliffs -were no more than refracted glare beyond. - -“It is air,” said Cavor. “It must be air—or it would not rise like -this—at the mere touch of a sun-beam. And at this pace....” - -He peered upwards. “Look!” he said. - -“What?” I asked. - -“In the sky. Already. On the blackness—a little touch of blue. See! The -stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim nebulosities -we saw in empty space—they are hidden!” - -Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. Grey summit after grey summit -was overtaken by the blaze, and turned to a smoking white intensity. At -last there was nothing to the west of us but a bank of surging fog, the -tumultuous advance and ascent of cloudy haze. The distant cliff had -receded farther and farther, had loomed and changed through the whirl, -and foundered and vanished at last in its confusion. - -Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer and nearer, coming as fast as -the shadow of a cloud before the south-west wind. About us rose a thin -anticipatory haze. - -Cavor gripped my arm. “What?” I said. - -“Look! The sunrise! The sun!” - -He turned me about and pointed to the brow of the eastward cliff, -looming above the haze about us, scarce lighter than the darkness of -the sky. But now its line was marked by strange reddish shapes, tongues -of vermilion flame that writhed and danced. I fancied it must be -spirals of vapour that had caught the light and made this crest of -fiery tongues against the sky, but indeed it was the solar prominences -I saw, a crown of fire about the sun that is forever hidden from -earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil. - -And then—the sun! - -Steadily, inevitably came a brilliant line, came a thin edge of -intolerable effulgence that took a circular shape, became a bow, became -a blazing sceptre, and hurled a shaft of heat at us as though it was a -spear. - -It seemed verily to stab my eyes! I cried aloud and turned about -blinded, groping for my blanket beneath the bale. - -And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had -reached us from without since we left the earth, a hissing and -rustling, the stormy trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing -day. And with the coming of the sound and the light the sphere lurched, -and blinded and dazzled we staggered helplessly against each other. It -lurched again, and the hissing grew louder. I had shut my eyes -perforce, I was making clumsy efforts to cover my head with my blanket, -and this second lurch sent me helplessly off my feet. I fell against -the bale, and opening my eyes had a momentary glimpse of the air just -outside our glass. It was running—it was boiling—like snow into which a -white-hot rod is thrust. What had been solid air had suddenly at the -touch of the sun become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquefaction, that -hissed and bubbled into gas. - -There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched -one another. In another moment we were spun about again. Round we went -and over, and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had hold of us. -It meant to show us little men what the moon could do with us. - -I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half -liquid slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We dropped into -darkness. I went down with Cavor’s knees in my chest. Then he seemed to -fly away from me, and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my -body staring upward. A toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed -over us, buried us, and now it thinned and boiled off us. I saw the -bubbles dancing on the glass above. I heard Cavor exclaiming feebly. - -Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and -spluttering expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling -faster and faster, leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster -and faster, westward into the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar -day. - -Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our -bale of packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We collided, we -gripped, we were torn asunder—our heads met, and the whole universe -burst into fiery darts and stars! On the earth we should have smashed -one another a dozen times, but on the moon, luckily for us, our weight -was only one-sixth of what it is terrestrially, and we fell very -mercifully. I recall a sensation of utter sickness, a feeling as if my -brain were upside down within my skull, and then— - -Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears. -Then I discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated -by blue spectacles. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, -his eyes also protected by tinted goggles. His breath came irregularly, -and his lip was bleeding from a bruise. “Better?” he said, wiping the -blood with the back of his hand. - -Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my -giddiness. I perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the -outer sphere to save me—from the direct blaze of the sun. I was aware -that everything about us was very brilliant. - -“Lord!” I gasped. “But this—” - -I craned my neck to see. I perceived there was a blinding glare -outside, an utter change from the gloomy darkness of our first -impressions. “Have I been insensible long?” I asked. - -“I don’t know—the chronometer is broken. Some little time.... My dear -chap! I have been afraid...” - -I lay for a space taking this in. I saw his face still bore evidences -of emotion. For a while I said nothing. I passed an inquisitive hand -over my contusions, and surveyed his face for similar damages. The back -of my right hand had suffered most, and was skinless and raw. My -forehead was bruised and had bled. He handed me a little measure with -some of the restorative—I forget the name of it—he had brought with us. -After a time I felt a little better. I began to stretch my limbs -carefully. Soon I could talk. - -“It wouldn’t have done,” I said, as though there had been no interval. - -“No! it _wouldn’t_.” - -He thought, his hands hanging over his knees. He peered through the -glass and then stared at me. “Good Lord!” he said. “_No!_” - -“What has happened?” I asked after a pause. “Have we jumped to the -tropics?” - -“It was as I expected. This air has evaporated—if it is air. At any -rate, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are -lying on a bank of earthy rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed. A -queer sort of soil!” - -It occurred to him that it was unnecessary to explain. He assisted me -into a sitting position, and I could see with my own eyes. - - - - -VIII. -A Lunar Morning - - -The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and white of scenery had -altogether disappeared. The glare of the sun had taken upon itself a -faint tinge of amber; the shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall -were deeply purple. To the eastward a dark bank of fog still crouched -and sheltered from the sunrise, but to the westward the sky was blue -and clear. I began to realise the length of my insensibility. - -We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had arisen about us. The -outline of things had gained in character, had grown acute and varied; -save for a shadowed space of white substance here and there, white -substance that was no longer air but snow, the arctic appearance had -gone altogether. Everywhere broad rusty brown spaces of bare and -tumbled earth spread to the blaze of the sun. Here and there at the -edge of the snowdrifts were transient little pools and eddies of water, -the only things stirring in that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight -inundated the upper two blinds of our sphere and turned our climate to -high summer, but our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was -lying upon a drift of snow. - -And scattered here and there upon the slope, and emphasised by little -white threads of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, were shapes like -sticks, dry twisted sticks of the same rusty hue as the rock upon which -they lay. That caught one’s thoughts sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless -world? Then as my eye grew more accustomed to the texture of their -substance, I perceived that almost all this surface had a fibrous -texture, like the carpet of brown needles one finds beneath the shade -of pine trees. - -“Cavor!” I said. - -“Yes.” - -“It may be a dead world now—but once—” - -Something arrested my attention. I had discovered among these needles a -number of little round objects. And it seemed to me that one of these -had moved. “Cavor,” I whispered. - -“What?” - -But I did not answer at once. I stared incredulous. For an instant I -could not believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. I gripped his -arm. I pointed. “Look!” I cried, finding my tongue. “There! Yes! And -there!” - -His eyes followed my pointing finger. “Eh?” he said. - -How can I describe the thing I saw? It is so petty a thing to state, -and yet it seemed so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I have said -that amidst the stick-like litter were these rounded bodies, these -little oval bodies that might have passed as very small pebbles. And -now first one and then another had stirred, had rolled over and -cracked, and down the crack of each of them showed a minute line of -yellowish green, thrusting outward to meet the hot encouragement of the -newly-risen sun. For a moment that was all, and then there stirred, and -burst a third! - -“It is a seed,” said Cavor. And then I heard him whisper very softly, -“_Life!_” - -“Life!” And immediately it poured upon us that our vast journey had not -been made in vain, that we had come to no arid waste of minerals, but -to a world that lived and moved! We watched intensely. I remember I -kept rubbing the glass before me with my sleeve, jealous of the -faintest suspicion of mist. - -The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field. All -about that centre the dead fibres and seeds were magnified and -distorted by the curvature of the glass. But we could see enough! One -after another all down the sunlit slope these miraculous little brown -bodies burst and gaped apart, like seed-pods, like the husks of fruits; -opened eager mouths that drank in the heat and light pouring in a -cascade from the newly-risen sun. - -Every moment more of these seed coats ruptured, and even as they did so -the swelling pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed-cases, and -passed into the second stage of growth. With a steady assurance, a -swift deliberation, these amazing seeds thrust a rootlet downward to -the earth and a queer little bundle-like bud into the air. In a little -while the whole slope was dotted with minute plantlets standing at -attention in the blaze of the sun. - -They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled and strained -and opened with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little sharp tips, -spreading a whorl of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves, that lengthened -rapidly, lengthened visibly even as we watched. The movement was slower -than any animal’s, swifter than any plant’s I have ever seen before. -How can I suggest it to you—the way that growth went on? The leaf tips -grew so that they moved onward even while we looked at them. The brown -seed-case shrivelled and was absorbed with an equal rapidity. Have you -ever on a cold day taken a thermometer into your warm hand and watched -the little thread of mercury creep up the tube? These moon plants grew -like that. - -In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds of the more forward of these -plants had lengthened into a stem and were even putting forth a second -whorl of leaves, and all the slope that had seemed so recently a -lifeless stretch of litter was now dark with the stunted olive-green -herbage of bristling spikes that swayed with the vigour of their -growing. - -I turned about, and behold! along the upper edge of a rock to the -eastward a similar fringe in a scarcely less forward condition swayed -and bent, dark against the blinding glare of the sun. And beyond this -fringe was the silhouette of a plant mass, branching clumsily like a -cactus, and swelling visibly, swelling like a bladder that fills with -air. - -Then to the westward also I discovered that another such distended form -was rising over the scrub. But here the light fell upon its sleek -sides, and I could see that its colour was a vivid orange hue. It rose -as one watched it; if one looked away from it for a minute and then -back, its outline had changed; it thrust out blunt congested branches -until in a little time it rose a coralline shape of many feet in -height. Compared with such a growth the terrestrial puff-ball, which -will sometimes swell a foot in diameter in a single night, would be a -hopeless laggard. But then the puff-ball grows against a gravitational -pull six times that of the moon. Beyond, out of gullies and flats that -had been hidden from us, but not from the quickening sun, over reefs -and banks of shining rock, a bristling beard of spiky and fleshy -vegetation was straining into view, hurrying tumultuously to take -advantage of the brief day in which it must flower and fruit and seed -again and die. It was like a miracle, that growth. So, one must -imagine, the trees and plants arose at the Creation and covered the -desolation of the new-made earth. - -Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The resurrection of the frozen air, the -stirring and quickening of the soil, and then this silent uprising of -vegetation, this unearthly ascent of fleshiness and spikes. Conceive it -all lit by a blaze that would make the intensest sunlight of earth seem -watery and weak. And still around this stirring jungle, wherever there -was shadow, lingered banks of bluish snow. And to have the picture of -our impression complete, you must bear in mind that we saw it all -through a thick bent glass, distorting it as things are distorted by a -lens, acute only in the centre of the picture, and very bright there, -and towards the edges magnified and unreal. - - - - -IX. -Prospecting Begins - - -We ceased to gaze. We turned to each other, the same thought, the same -question in our eyes. For these plants to grow, there must be some air, -however attenuated, air that we also should be able to breathe. - -“The manhole?” I said. - -“Yes!” said Cavor, “if it is air we see!” - -“In a little while,” I said, “these plants will be as high as we are. -Suppose—suppose after all— Is it certain? How do you know that stuff -_is_ air? It may be nitrogen—it may be carbonic acid even!” - -“That’s easy,” he said, and set about proving it. He produced a big -piece of crumpled paper from the bale, lit it, and thrust it hastily -through the man-hole valve. I bent forward and peered down through the -thick glass for its appearance outside, that little flame on whose -evidence depended so much! - -I saw the paper drop out and lie lightly upon the snow. The pink flame -of its burning vanished. For an instant it seemed to be extinguished. -And then I saw a little blue tongue upon the edge of it that trembled, -and crept, and spread! - -Quietly the whole sheet, save where it lay in immediate contact with -the snow, charred and shrivelled and sent up a quivering thread of -smoke. There was no doubt left to me; the atmosphere of the moon was -either pure oxygen or air, and capable therefore—unless its tenuity was -excessive—of supporting our alien life. We might emerge—and live! - -I sat down with my legs on either side of the manhole and prepared to -unscrew it, but Cavor stopped me. “There is first a little precaution,” -he said. He pointed out that although it was certainly an oxygenated -atmosphere outside, it might still be so rarefied as to cause us grave -injury. He reminded me of mountain sickness, and of the bleeding that -often afflicts aeronauts who have ascended too swiftly, and he spent -some time in the preparation of a sickly-tasting drink which he -insisted on my sharing. It made me feel a little numb, but otherwise -had no effect on me. Then he permitted me to begin unscrewing. - -Presently the glass stopper of the manhole was so far undone that the -denser air within our sphere began to escape along the thread of the -screw, singing as a kettle sings before it boils. Thereupon he made me -desist. It speedily became evident that the pressure outside was very -much less than it was within. How much less it was we had no means of -telling. - -I sat grasping the stopper with both hands, ready to close it again if, -in spite of our intense hope, the lunar atmosphere should after all -prove too rarefied for us, and Cavor sat with a cylinder of compressed -oxygen at hand to restore our pressure. We looked at one another in -silence, and then at the fantastic vegetation that swayed and grew -visibly and noiselessly without. And ever that shrill piping continued. - -My blood-vessels began to throb in my ears, and the sound of Cavor’s -movements diminished. I noted how still everything had become, because -of the thinning of the air. - -As our air sizzled out from the screw the moisture of it condensed in -little puffs. - -Presently I experienced a peculiar shortness of breath that lasted -indeed during the whole of the time of our exposure to the moon’s -exterior atmosphere, and a rather unpleasant sensation about the ears -and finger-nails and the back of the throat grew upon my attention, and -presently passed off again. - -But then came vertigo and nausea that abruptly changed the quality of -my courage. I gave the lid of the manhole half a turn and made a hasty -explanation to Cavor; but now he was the more sanguine. He answered me -in a voice that seemed extraordinarily small and remote, because of the -thinness of the air that carried the sound. He recommended a nip of -brandy, and set me the example, and presently I felt better. I turned -the manhole stopper back again. The throbbing in my ears grew louder, -and then I remarked that the piping note of the outrush had ceased. For -a time I could not be sure that it had ceased. - -“Well?” said Cavor, in the ghost of a voice. - -“Well?” said I. - -“Shall we go on?” - -I thought. “Is this all?” - -“If you can stand it.” - -By way of answer I went on unscrewing. I lifted the circular operculum -from its place and laid it carefully on the bale. A flake or so of snow -whirled and vanished as that thin and unfamiliar air took possession of -our sphere. I knelt, and then seated myself at the edge of the manhole, -peering over it. Beneath, within a yard of my face, lay the untrodden -snow of the moon. - -There came a little pause. Our eyes met. - -“It doesn’t distress your lungs too much?” said Cavor. - -“No,” I said. “I can stand this.” - -He stretched out his hand for his blanket, thrust his head through its -central hole, and wrapped it about him. He sat down on the edge of the -manhole, he let his feet drop until they were within six inches of the -lunar ground. He hesitated for a moment, then thrust himself forward, -dropped these intervening inches, and stood upon the untrodden soil of -the moon. - -As he stepped forward he was refracted grotesquely by the edge of the -glass. He stood for a moment looking this way and that. Then he drew -himself together and leapt. - -The glass distorted everything, but it seemed to me even then to be an -extremely big leap. He had at one bound become remote. He seemed twenty -or thirty feet off. He was standing high upon a rocky mass and -gesticulating back to me. Perhaps he was shouting—but the sound did not -reach me. But how the deuce had he done this? I felt like a man who has -just seen a new conjuring trick. - -In a puzzled state of mind I too dropped through the manhole. I stood -up. Just in front of me the snowdrift had fallen away and made a sort -of ditch. I made a step and jumped. - -I found myself flying through the air, saw the rock on which he stood -coming to meet me, clutched it and clung in a state of infinite -amazement. - -I gasped a painful laugh. I was tremendously confused. Cavor bent down -and shouted in piping tones for me to be careful. - -I had forgotten that on the moon, with only an eighth part of the -earth’s mass and a quarter of its diameter, my weight was barely a -sixth what it was on earth. But now that fact insisted on being -remembered. - -“We are out of Mother Earth’s leading-strings now,” he said. - -With a guarded effort I raised myself to the top, and moving as -cautiously as a rheumatic patient, stood up beside him under the blaze -of the sun. The sphere lay behind us on its dwindling snowdrift thirty -feet away. - -As far as the eye could see over the enormous disorder of rocks that -formed the crater floor, the same bristling scrub that surrounded us -was starting into life, diversified here and there by bulging masses of -a cactus form, and scarlet and purple lichens that grew so fast they -seemed to crawl over the rocks. The whole area of the crater seemed to -me then to be one similar wilderness up to the very foot of the -surrounding cliff. - -This cliff was apparently bare of vegetation save at its base, and with -buttresses and terraces and platforms that did not very greatly attract -our attention at the time. It was many miles away from us in every -direction; we seemed to be almost at the centre of the crater, and we -saw it through a certain haziness that drove before the wind. For there -was even a wind now in the thin air, a swift yet weak wind that chilled -exceedingly but exerted little pressure. It was blowing round the -crater, as it seemed, to the hot illuminated side from the foggy -darkness under the sunward wall. It was difficult to look into this -eastward fog; we had to peer with half-closed eyes beneath the shade of -our hands, because of the fierce intensity of the motionless sun. - -“It seems to be deserted,” said Cavor, “absolutely desolate.” - -I looked about me again. I retained even then a clinging hope of some -quasi-human evidence, some pinnacle of building, some house or engine, -but everywhere one looked spread the tumbled rocks in peaks and crests, -and the darting scrub and those bulging cacti that swelled and swelled, -a flat negation as it seemed of all such hope. - -“It looks as though these plants had it to themselves,” I said. “I see -no trace of any other creature.” - -“No insects—no birds, no! Not a trace, not a scrap nor particle of -animal life. If there was—what would they do in the night? ... No; -there’s just these plants alone.” - -I shaded my eyes with my hand. “It’s like the landscape of a dream. -These things are less like earthly land plants than the things one -imagines among the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Look at that yonder! -One might imagine it a lizard changed into a plant. And the glare!” - -“This is only the fresh morning,” said Cavor. - -He sighed and looked about him. “This is no world for men,” he said. -“And yet in a way—it appeals.” - -He became silent for a time, then commenced his meditative humming. - -I started at a gentle touch, and found a thin sheet of livid lichen -lapping over my shoe. I kicked at it and it fell to powder, and each -speck began to grow. - -I heard Cavor exclaim sharply, and perceived that one of the fixed -bayonets of the scrub had pricked him. He hesitated, his eyes sought -among the rocks about us. A sudden blaze of pink had crept up a ragged -pillar of crag. It was a most extraordinary pink, a livid magenta. - -“Look!” said I, turning, and behold Cavor had vanished. - -For an instant I stood transfixed. Then I made a hasty step to look -over the verge of the rock. But in my surprise at his disappearance I -forgot once more that we were on the moon. The thrust of my foot that I -made in striding would have carried me a yard on earth; on the moon it -carried me six—a good five yards over the edge. For the moment the -thing had something of the effect of those nightmares when one falls -and falls. For while one falls sixteen feet in the first second of a -fall on earth, on the moon one falls two, and with only a sixth of -one’s weight. I fell, or rather I jumped down, about ten yards I -suppose. It seemed to take quite a long time, five or six seconds, I -should think. I floated through the air and fell like a feather, -knee-deep in a snow-drift in the bottom of a gully of blue-grey, -white-veined rock. - -I looked about me. “Cavor!” I cried; but no Cavor was visible. - -“Cavor!” I cried louder, and the rocks echoed me. - -I turned fiercely to the rocks and clambered to the summit of them. -“Cavor!” I cried. My voice sounded like the voice of a lost lamb. - -The sphere, too, was not in sight, and for a moment a horrible feeling -of desolation pinched my heart. - -Then I saw him. He was laughing and gesticulating to attract my -attention. He was on a bare patch of rock twenty or thirty yards away. -I could not hear his voice, but “jump” said his gestures. I hesitated, -the distance seemed enormous. Yet I reflected that surely I must be -able to clear a greater distance than Cavor. - -I made a step back, gathered myself together, and leapt with all my -might. I seemed to shoot right up in the air as though I should never -come down. - -It was horrible and delightful, and as wild as a nightmare, to go -flying off in this fashion. I realised my leap had been altogether too -violent. I flew clean over Cavor’s head and beheld a spiky confusion in -a gully spreading to meet my fall. I gave a yelp of alarm. I put out my -hands and straightened my legs. - -I hit a huge fungoid bulk that burst all about me, scattering a mass of -orange spores in every direction, and covering me with orange powder. I -rolled over spluttering, and came to rest convulsed with breathless -laughter. - -I became aware of Cavor’s little round face peering over a bristling -hedge. He shouted some faded inquiry. “Eh?” I tried to shout, but could -not do so for want of breath. He made his way towards me, coming -gingerly among the bushes. - -“We’ve got to be careful,” he said. “This moon has no discipline. -She’ll let us smash ourselves.” - -He helped me to my feet. “You exerted yourself too much,” he said, -dabbing at the yellow stuff with his hand to remove it from my -garments. - -I stood passive and panting, allowing him to beat off the jelly from my -knees and elbows and lecture me upon my misfortunes. “We don’t quite -allow for the gravitation. Our muscles are scarcely educated yet. We -must practise a little, when you have got your breath.” - -I pulled two or three little thorns out of my hand, and sat for a time -on a boulder of rock. My muscles were quivering, and I had that feeling -of personal disillusionment that comes at the first fall to the learner -of cycling on earth. - -It suddenly occurred to Cavor that the cold air in the gully, after the -brightness of the sun, might give me a fever. So we clambered back into -the sunlight. We found that beyond a few abrasions I had received no -serious injuries from my tumble, and at Cavor’s suggestion we were -presently looking round for some safe and easy landing-place for my -next leap. We chose a rocky slab some ten yards off, separated from us -by a little thicket of olive-green spikes. - -“Imagine it there!” said Cavor, who was assuming the airs of a trainer, -and he pointed to a spot about four feet from my toes. This leap I -managed without difficulty, and I must confess I found a certain -satisfaction in Cavor’s falling short by a foot or so and tasting the -spikes of the scrub. “One has to be careful, you see,” he said, pulling -out his thorns, and with that he ceased to be my mentor and became my -fellow-learner in the art of lunar locomotion. - -We chose a still easier jump and did it without difficulty, and then -leapt back again, and to and fro several times, accustoming our muscles -to the new standard. I could never have believed had I not experienced -it, how rapid that adaptation would be. In a very little time indeed, -certainly after fewer than thirty leaps, we could judge the effort -necessary for a distance with almost terrestrial assurance. - -And all this time the lunar plants were growing around us, higher and -denser and more entangled, every moment thicker and taller, spiked -plants, green cactus masses, fungi, fleshy and lichenous things, -strangest radiate and sinuous shapes. But we were so intent upon our -leaping, that for a time we gave no heed to their unfaltering -expansion. - -An extraordinary elation had taken possession of us. Partly, I think, -it was our sense of release from the confinement of the sphere. Mainly, -however, the thin sweetness of the air, which I am certain contained a -much larger proportion of oxygen than our terrestrial atmosphere. In -spite of the strange quality of all about us, I felt as adventurous and -experimental as a cockney would do placed for the first time among -mountains and I do not think it occurred to either of us, face to face -though we were with the unknown, to be very greatly afraid. - -We were bitten by a spirit of enterprise. We selected a lichenous kopje -perhaps fifteen yards away, and landed neatly on its summit one after -the other. “Good!” we cried to each other; “good!” and Cavor made three -steps and went off to a tempting slope of snow a good twenty yards and -more beyond. I stood for a moment struck by the grotesque effect of his -soaring figure—his dirty cricket cap, and spiky hair, his little round -body, his arms and his knicker-bockered legs tucked up tightly—against -the weird spaciousness of the lunar scene. A gust of laughter seized -me, and then I stepped off to follow. Plump! I dropped beside him. - -We made a few gargantuan strides, leapt three or four times more, and -sat down at last in a lichenous hollow. Our lungs were painful. We sat -holding our sides and recovering our breath, looking appreciation to -one another. Cavor panted something about “amazing sensations.” And -then came a thought into my head. For the moment it did not seem a -particularly appalling thought, simply a natural question arising out -of the situation. - -“By the way,” I said, “where exactly is the sphere?” - -Cavor looked at me. “Eh?” - -The full meaning of what we were saying struck me sharply. - -“Cavor!” I cried, laying a hand on his arm, “where is the sphere?” - - - - -X. -Lost Men in the Moon - - -His face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about -him at the scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward -in a passion of growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke -with a sudden lack of assurance. “I think,” he said slowly, “we left it -... somewhere ... about _there_.” - -He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc. - -“I’m not sure.” His look of consternation deepened. “Anyhow,” he said, -with his eyes on me, “it can’t be far.” - -We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought -in the twining, thickening jungle round about us. - -All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed and swayed the darting -shrubs, the swelling cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever the -shade remained the snow-drifts lingered. North, south, east, and west -spread an identical monotony of unfamiliar forms. And somewhere, buried -already among this tangled confusion, was our sphere, our home, our -only provision, our only hope of escape from this fantastic wilderness -of ephemeral growths into which we had come. - -“I think after all,” he said, pointing suddenly, “it might be over -there.” - -“No,” I said. “We have turned in a curve. See! here is the mark of my -heels. It’s clear the thing must be more to the eastward, much more. -No—the sphere must be over there.” - -“I _think_,” said Cavor, “I kept the sun upon my right all the time.” - -“Every leap, it seems to _me_,” I said, “my shadow flew before me.” - -We stared into one another’s eyes. The area of the crater had become -enormously vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets already -impenetrably dense. - -“Good heavens! What fools we have been!” - -“It’s evident that we must find it again,” said Cavor, “and that soon. -The sun grows stronger. We should be fainting with the heat already if -it wasn’t so dry. And ... I’m hungry.” - -I stared at him. I had not suspected this aspect of the matter before. -But it came to me at once—a positive craving. “Yes,” I said with -emphasis. “I am hungry too.” - -He stood up with a look of active resolution. “Certainly we must find -the sphere.” - -As calmly as possible we surveyed the interminable reefs and thickets -that formed the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in silence the -chances of our finding the sphere before we were overtaken by heat and -hunger. - -“It can’t be fifty yards from here,” said Cavor, with indecisive -gestures. “The only thing is to beat round about until we come upon -it.” - -“That is all we can do,” I said, without any alacrity to begin our -hunt. “I wish this confounded spike bush did not grow so fast!” - -“That’s just it,” said Cavor. “But it was lying on a bank of snow.” - -I stared about me in the vain hope of recognising some knoll or shrub -that had been near the sphere. But everywhere was a confusing sameness, -everywhere the aspiring bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling -snow banks, steadily and inevitably changed. The sun scorched and -stung, the faintness of an unaccountable hunger mingled with our -infinite perplexity. And even as we stood there, confused and lost -amidst unprecedented things, we became aware for the first time of a -sound upon the moon other than the air of the growing plants, the faint -sighing of the wind, or those that we ourselves had made. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. - -It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear -it with our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull resonance was -muffled by distance, thick with the quality of intervening substance. -No sound that I can imagine could have astonished us more, or have -changed more completely the quality of things about us. For this sound, -rich, slow, and deliberate, seemed to us as though it could be nothing -but the striking of some gigantic buried clock. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. - -Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleepless nights in crowded -cities, of vigils and the awaited hour, of all that is orderly and -methodical in life, booming out pregnant and mysterious in this -fantastic desert! To the eye everything was unchanged: the desolation -of bushes and cacti waving silently in the wind, stretched unbroken to -the distant cliffs, the still dark sky was empty overhead, and the hot -sun hung and burned. And through it all, a warning, a threat, throbbed -this enigma of sound. - -Boom.... Boom.... Boom.... - -We questioned one another in faint and faded voices. - -“A clock?” - -“Like a clock!” - -“What is it?” - -“What can it be?” - -“Count,” was Cavor’s belated suggestion, and at that word the striking -ceased. - -The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a -fresh shock. For a moment one could doubt whether one had ever heard a -sound. Or whether it might not still be going on. Had I indeed heard a -sound? - -I felt the pressure of Cavor’s hand upon my arm. He spoke in an -undertone, as though he feared to wake some sleeping thing. “Let us -keep together,” he whispered, “and look for the sphere. We must get -back to the sphere. This is beyond our understanding.” - -“Which way shall we go?” - -He hesitated. An intense persuasion of presences, of unseen things -about us and near us, dominated our minds. What could they be? Where -could they be? Was this arid desolation, alternately frozen and -scorched, only the outer rind and mask of some subterranean world? And -if so, what sort of world? What sort of inhabitants might it not -presently disgorge upon us? - -And then, stabbing the aching stillness as vivid and sudden as an -unexpected thunderclap, came a clang and rattle as though great gates -of metal had suddenly been flung apart. - -It arrested our steps. We stood gaping helplessly. Then Cavor stole -towards me. - -“I do not understand!” he whispered close to my face. He waved his hand -vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of still vaguer thoughts. - -“A hiding-place! If anything came...” - -I looked about us. I nodded my head in assent to him. - -We started off, moving stealthily with the most exaggerated precautions -against noise. We went towards a thicket of scrub. A clangour like -hammers flung about a boiler hastened our steps. “We must crawl,” -whispered Cavor. - -The lower leaves of the bayonet plants, already overshadowed by the -newer ones above, were beginning to wilt and shrivel so that we could -thrust our way in among the thickening stems without serious injury. A -stab in the face or arm we did not heed. At the heart of the thicket I -stopped, and stared panting into Cavor’s face. - -“Subterranean,” he whispered. “Below.” - -“They may come out.” - -“We must find the sphere!” - -“Yes,” I said; “but how?” - -“Crawl till we come to it.” - -“But if we don’t?” - -“Keep hidden. See what they are like.” - -“We will keep together,” said I. - -He thought. “Which way shall we go?” - -“We must take our chance.” - -We peered this way and that. Then very circumspectly, we began to crawl -through the lower jungle, making, so far as we could judge, a circuit, -halting now at every waving fungus, at every sound, intent only on the -sphere from which we had so foolishly emerged. Ever and again from out -of the earth beneath us came concussions, beatings, strange, -inexplicable, mechanical sounds; and once, and then again, we thought -we heard something, a faint rattle and tumult, borne to us through the -air. But fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage-point to survey -the crater. For long we saw nothing of the beings whose sounds were so -abundant and insistent. But for the faintness of our hunger and the -drying of our throats that crawling would have had the quality of a -very vivid dream. It was so absolutely unreal. The only element with -any touch of reality was these sounds. - -Picture it to yourself! About us the dream-like jungle, with the silent -bayonet leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, sun-splashed -lichens under our hands and knees, waving with the vigour of their -growth as a carpet waves when the wind gets beneath it. Ever and again -one of the bladder fungi, bulging and distending under the sun, loomed -upon us. Ever and again some novel shape in vivid colour obtruded. The -very cells that built up these plants were as large as my thumb, like -beads of coloured glass. And all these things were saturated in the -unmitigated glare of the sun, were seen against a sky that was bluish -black and spangled still, in spite of the sunlight, with a few -surviving stars. Strange! the very forms and texture of the stones were -strange. It was all strange, the feeling of one’s body was -unprecedented, every other movement ended in a surprise. The breath -sucked thin in one’s throat, the blood flowed through one’s ears in a -throbbing tide—thud, thud, thud, thud.... - -And ever and again came gusts of turmoil, hammering, the clanging and -throb of machinery, and presently—the bellowing of great beasts! - - - - -XI. -The Mooncalf Pastures - - -So we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in that wild-growing moon -jungle, crawled in terror before the sounds that had come upon us. We -crawled, as it seemed, a long time before we saw either Selenite or -mooncalf, though we heard the bellowing and gruntulous noises of these -latter continually drawing nearer to us. We crawled through stony -ravines, over snow slopes, amidst fungi that ripped like thin bladders -at our thrust, emitting a watery humour, over a perfect pavement of -things like puff-balls, and beneath interminable thickets of scrub. And -ever more helplessly our eyes sought for our abandoned sphere. The -noise of the mooncalves would at times be a vast flat calf-like sound, -at times it rose to an amazed and wrathy bellowing, and again it would -become a clogged bestial sound, as though these unseen creatures had -sought to eat and bellow at the same time. - -Our first view was but an inadequate transitory glimpse, yet none the -less disturbing because it was incomplete. Cavor was crawling in front -at the time, and he first was aware of their proximity. He stopped -dead, arresting me with a single gesture. - -A crackling and smashing of the scrub appeared to be advancing directly -upon us, and then, as we squatted close and endeavoured to judge of the -nearness and direction of this noise, there came a terrific bellow -behind us, so close and vehement that the tops of the bayonet scrub -bent before it, and one felt the breath of it hot and moist. And, -turning about, we saw indistinctly through a crowd of swaying stems the -mooncalf’s shining sides, and the long line of its back loomed out -against the sky. - -Of course it is hard for me now to say how much I saw at that time, -because my impressions were corrected by subsequent observation. First -of all impressions was its enormous size; the girth of its body was -some fourscore feet, its length perhaps two hundred. Its sides rose and -fell with its laboured breathing. I perceived that its gigantic, flabby -body lay along the ground, and that its skin was of a corrugated white, -dappling into blackness along the backbone. But of its feet we saw -nothing. I think also that we saw then the profile at least of the -almost brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, its slobbering -omnivorous mouth, its little nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For the -mooncalf invariably shuts its eyes in the presence of the sun.) We had -a glimpse of a vast red pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and bellow -again; we had a breath from the pit, and then the monster heeled over -like a ship, dragged forward along the ground, creasing all its -leathery skin, rolled again, and so wallowed past us, smashing a path -amidst the scrub, and was speedily hidden from our eyes by the dense -interlacings beyond. Another appeared more distantly, and then another, -and then, as though he was guiding these animated lumps of provender to -their pasture, a Selenite came momentarily into ken. My grip upon -Cavor’s foot became convulsive at the sight of him, and we remained -motionless and peering long after he had passed out of our range. - -By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed a trivial being, a mere ant, -scarcely five feet high. He was wearing garments of some leathery -substance, so that no portion of his actual body appeared, but of this, -of course, we were entirely ignorant. He presented himself, therefore, -as a compact, bristling creature, having much of the quality of a -complicated insect, with whip-like tentacles and a clanging arm -projecting from his shining cylindrical body case. The form of his head -was hidden by his enormous many-spiked helmet—we discovered afterwards -that he used the spikes for prodding refractory mooncalves—and a pair -of goggles of darkened glass, set very much at the side, gave a -bird-like quality to the metallic apparatus that covered his face. His -arms did not project beyond his body case, and he carried himself upon -short legs that, wrapped though they were in warm coverings, seemed to -our terrestrial eyes inordinately flimsy. They had very short thighs, -very long shanks, and little feet. - -In spite of his heavy-looking clothing, he was progressing with what -would be, from the terrestrial point of view, very considerable -strides, and his clanging arm was busy. The quality of his motion -during the instant of his passing suggested haste and a certain anger, -and soon after we had lost sight of him we heard the bellow of a -mooncalf change abruptly into a short, sharp squeal followed by the -scuffle of its acceleration. And gradually that bellowing receded, and -then came to an end, as if the pastures sought had been attained. - -We listened. For a space the moon world was still. But it was some time -before we resumed our crawling search for the vanished sphere. - -When next we saw mooncalves they were some little distance away from us -in a place of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces of the rocks -were thick with a speckled green plant growing in dense mossy clumps, -upon which these creatures were browsing. We stopped at the edge of the -reeds amidst which we were crawling at the sight of them, peering out -at then and looking round for a second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay -against their food like stupendous slugs, huge, greasy hulls, eating -greedily and noisily, with a sort of sobbing avidity. They seemed -monsters of mere fatness, clumsy and overwhelmed to a degree that would -make a Smithfield ox seem a model of agility. Their busy, writhing, -chewing mouths, and eyes closed, together with the appetising sound of -their munching, made up an effect of animal enjoyment that was -singularly stimulating to our empty frames. - -“Hogs!” said Cavor, with unusual passion. “Disgusting hogs!” and after -one glare of angry envy crawled off through the bushes to our right. I -stayed long enough to see that the speckled plant was quite hopeless -for human nourishment, then crawled after him, nibbling a quill of it -between my teeth. - -Presently we were arrested again by the proximity of a Selenite, and -this time we were able to observe him more exactly. Now we could see -that the Selenite covering was indeed clothing, and not a sort of -crustacean integument. He was quite similar in his costume to the -former one we had glimpsed, except that ends of something like wadding -were protruding from his neck, and he stood on a promontory of rock and -moved his head this way and that, as though he was surveying the -crater. We lay quite still, fearing to attract his attention if we -moved, and after a time he turned about and disappeared. - -We came upon another drove of mooncalves bellowing up a ravine, and -then we passed over a place of sounds, sounds of beating machinery as -if some huge hall of industry came near the surface there. And while -these sounds were still about us we came to the edge of a great open -space, perhaps two hundred yards in diameter, and perfectly level. Save -for a few lichens that advanced from its margin this space was bare, -and presented a powdery surface of a dusty yellow colour. We were -afraid to strike out across this space, but as it presented less -obstruction to our crawling than the scrub, we went down upon it and -began very circumspectly to skirt its edge. - -For a little while the noises from below ceased and everything, save -for the faint stir of the growing vegetation, was very still. Then -abruptly there began an uproar, louder, more vehement, and nearer than -any we had so far heard. Of a certainty it came from below. -Instinctively we crouched as flat as we could, ready for a prompt -plunge into the thicket beside us. Each knock and throb seemed to -vibrate through our bodies. Louder grew this throbbing and beating, and -that irregular vibration increased until the whole moon world seemed to -be jerking and pulsing. - -“Cover,” whispered Cavor, and I turned towards the bushes. - -At that instant came a thud like the thud of a gun, and then a thing -happened—it still haunts me in my dreams. I had turned my head to look -at Cavor’s face, and thrust out my hand in front of me as I did so. And -my hand met nothing! I plunged suddenly into a bottomless hole! - -My chest hit something hard, and I found myself with my chin on the -edge of an unfathomable abyss that had suddenly opened beneath me, my -hand extended stiffly into the void. The whole of that flat circular -area was no more than a gigantic lid, that was now sliding sideways -from off the pit it had covered into a slot prepared for it. - -Had it not been for Cavor I think I should have remained rigid, hanging -over this margin and staring into the enormous gulf below, until at -last the edges of the slot scraped me off and hurled me into its -depths. But Cavor had not received the shock that had paralysed me. He -had been a little distance from the edge when the lid had first opened, -and perceiving the peril that held me helpless, gripped my legs and -pulled me backward. I came into a sitting position, crawled away from -the edge for a space on all fours, then staggered up and ran after him -across the thundering, quivering sheet of metal. It seemed to be -swinging open with a steadily accelerated velocity, and the bushes in -front of me shifted sideways as I ran. - -I was none too soon. Cavor’s back vanished amidst the bristling -thicket, and as I scrambled up after him, the monstrous valve came into -its position with a clang. For a long time we lay panting, not daring -to approach the pit. - -But at last very cautiously and bit by bit we crept into a position -from which we could peer down. The bushes about us creaked and waved -with the force of a breeze that was blowing down the shaft. We could -see nothing at first except smooth vertical walls descending at last -into an impenetrable black. And then very gradually we became aware of -a number of very faint and little lights going to and fro. - -For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery held us so that we forgot -even our sphere. In time, as we grew more accustomed to the darkness, -we could make out very small, dim, elusive shapes moving about among -those needle-point illuminations. We peered amazed and incredulous, -understanding so little that we could find no words to say. We could -distinguish nothing that would give us a clue to the meaning of the -faint shapes we saw. - -“What can it be?” I asked; “what can it be?” - -“The engineering!... They must live in these caverns during the night, -and come out during the day.” - -“Cavor!” I said. “Can they be—_that_—it was something like—men?” - -“_That_ was not a man.” - -“We dare risk nothing!” - -“We dare do nothing until we find the sphere!” - -“We _can_ do nothing until we find the sphere.” - -He assented with a groan and stirred himself to move. He stared about -him for a space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We struck out -through the jungle. For a time we crawled resolutely, then with -diminishing vigour. Presently among great shapes of flabby purple there -came a noise of trampling and cries about us. We lay close, and for a -long time the sounds went to and fro and very near. But this time we -saw nothing. I tried to whisper to Cavor that I could hardly go without -food much longer, but my mouth had become too dry for whispering. - -“Cavor,” I said, “I must have food.” - -He turned a face full of dismay towards me. “It’s a case for holding -out,” he said. - -“But I _must_,” I said, “and look at my lips!” - -“I’ve been thirsty some time.” - -“If only some of that snow had remained!” - -“It’s clean gone! We’re driving from arctic to tropical at the rate of -a degree a minute....” - -I gnawed my hand. - -“The sphere!” he said. “There is nothing for it but the sphere.” - -We roused ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My mind ran entirely -on edible things, on the hissing profundity of summer drinks, more -particularly I craved for beer. I was haunted by the memory of a -sixteen gallon cask that had swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I thought -of the adjacent larder, and especially of steak and kidney pie—tender -steak and plenty of kidney, and rich, thick gravy between. Ever and -again I was seized with fits of hungry yawning. We came to flat places -overgrown with fleshy red things, monstrous coralline growths; as we -pushed against them they snapped and broke. I noted the quality of the -broken surfaces. The confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable -texture. Then it seemed to me that it smelt rather well. - -I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. - -“Cavor,” I said in a hoarse undertone. - -He glanced at me with his face screwed up. “Don’t,” he said. I put down -the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for a -space. - -“Cavor,” I asked, “why _not?_” - -“Poison,” I heard him say, but he did not look round. - -We crawled some way before I decided. - -“I’ll chance it,” said I. - -He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He -crouched watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression. -“It’s good,” I said. - -“O Lord!” he cried. - -He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval, -then suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge -mouthfuls. For a time we did nothing but eat. - -The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer -in texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we -experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood -began to run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then -new and slightly irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds. - -“It’s good,” said I. “Infernally good! What a home for our surplus -population! Our poor surplus population,” and I broke off another large -portion. It filled me with a curiously benevolent satisfaction that -there was such good food in the moon. The depression of my hunger gave -way to an irrational exhilaration. The dread and discomfort in which I -had been living vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no longer as a -planet from which I most earnestly desired the means of escape, but as -a possible refuge from human destitution. I think I forgot the -Selenites, the mooncalves, the lid, and the noises completely so soon -as I had eaten that fungus. - -Cavor replied to my third repetition of my “surplus population” remark -with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put -this down to the stimulating effect of food after a long fast. -“Ess’lent discov’ry yours, Cavor,” said I. “Se’nd on’y to the ‘tato.” - -“Whajer mean?” asked Cavor. “‘Scovery of the moon—se’nd on’y to the -tato?” - -I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly hoarse voice, and by the -badness of his articulation. It occurred to me in a flash that he was -intoxicated, possibly by the fungus. It also occurred to me that he -erred in imagining that he had discovered the moon; he had not -discovered it, he had only reached it. I tried to lay my hand on his -arm and explain this to him, but the issue was too subtle for his -brain. It was also unexpectedly difficult to express. After a momentary -attempt to understand me—I remember wondering if the fungus had made my -eyes as fishy as his—he set off upon some observations on his own -account. - -“We are,” he announced with a solemn hiccup, “the creashurs o’ what we -eat and drink.” - -He repeated this, and as I was now in one of my subtle moods, I -determined to dispute it. Possibly I wandered a little from the point. -But Cavor certainly did not attend at all properly. He stood up as well -as he could, putting a hand on my head to steady himself, which was -disrespectful, and stood staring about him, quite devoid now of any -fear of the moon beings. - -I tried to point out that this was dangerous for some reason that was -not perfectly clear to me, but the word “dangerous” had somehow got -mixed with “indiscreet,” and came out rather more like “injurious” than -either; and after an attempt to disentangle them, I resumed my -argument, addressing myself principally to the unfamiliar but attentive -coralline growths on either side. I felt that it was necessary to clear -up this confusion between the moon and a potato at once—I wandered into -a long parenthesis on the importance of precision of definition in -argument. I did my best to ignore the fact that my bodily sensations -were no longer agreeable. - -In some way that I have now forgotten, my mind was led back to projects -of colonisation. “We must annex this moon,” I said. “There must be no -shilly-shally. This is part of the White Man’s Burthen. Cavor—we -are—_hic_—Satap—mean Satraps! Nempire Cæsar never dreamt. B’in all the -newspapers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. Bedfordecia—hic—Limited. -Mean—unlimited! Practically.” - -Certainly I was intoxicated. - -I embarked upon an argument to show the infinite benefits our arrival -would confer on the moon. I involved myself in a rather difficult proof -that the arrival of Columbus was, on the whole, beneficial to America. -I found I had forgotten the line of argument I had intended to pursue, -and continued to repeat “sim’lar to C’lumbus,” to fill up time. - -From that point my memory of the action of that abominable fungus -becomes confused. I remember vaguely that we declared our intention of -standing no nonsense from any confounded insects, that we decided it -ill became men to hide shamefully upon a mere satellite, that we -equipped ourselves with huge armfuls of the fungus—whether for missile -purposes or not I do not know—and, heedless of the stabs of the bayonet -scrub, we started forth into the sunshine. - -Almost immediately we must have come upon the Selenites. There were six -of them, and they were marching in single file over a rocky place, -making the most remarkable piping and whining sounds. They all seemed -to become aware of us at once, all instantly became silent and -motionless, like animals, with their faces turned towards us. - -For a moment I was sobered. - -“Insects,” murmured Cavor, “insects! And they think I’m going to crawl -about on my stomach—on my vertebrated stomach! - -“Stomach,” he repeated slowly, as though he chewed the indignity. - -Then suddenly, with a sort of fury, he made three vast strides and -leapt towards them. He leapt badly; he made a series of somersaults in -the air, whirled right over them, and vanished with an enormous splash -amidst the cactus bladders. What the Selenites made of this amazing, -and to my mind undignified irruption from another planet, I have no -means of guessing. I seem to remember the sight of their backs as they -ran in all directions, but I am not sure. All these last incidents -before oblivion came are vague and faint in my mind. I know I made a -step to follow Cavor, and tripped and fell headlong among the rocks. I -was, I am certain, suddenly and vehemently ill. I seem to remember a -violent struggle and being gripped by metallic clasps.... - -My next clear recollection is that we were prisoners at we knew not -what depths beneath the moon’s surface; we were in darkness amidst -strange distracting noises; our bodies were covered with scratches and -bruises, and our heads racked with pain. - - - - -XII. -The Selenite’s Face - - -I found myself sitting crouched together in a tumultuous darkness. For -a long time I could not understand where I was, nor how I had come to -this perplexity. I thought of the cupboard into which I had been thrust -at times when I was a child, and then of a very dark and noisy bedroom -in which I had slept during an illness. But these sounds about me were -not the noises I had known, and there was a thin flavour in the air -like the wind of a stable. Then I supposed we must still be at work -upon the sphere, and that somehow I had got into the cellar of Cavor’s -house. I remembered we had finished the sphere, and fancied I must -still be in it and travelling through space. - -“Cavor,” I said, “cannot we have some light?” - -There came no answer. - -“Cavor!” I insisted. - -I was answered by a groan. “My head!” I heard him say; “my head!” - -I attempted to press my hands to my brow, which ached, and discovered -they were tied together. This startled me very much. I brought them up -to my mouth and felt the cold smoothness of metal. They were chained -together. I tried to separate my legs and made out they were similarly -fastened, and also that I was fastened to the ground by a much thicker -chain about the middle of my body. - -I was more frightened than I had yet been by anything in all our -strange experiences. For a time I tugged silently at my bonds. “Cavor!” -I cried out sharply. “Why am I tied? Why have you tied me hand and -foot?” - -“I haven’t tied you,” he answered. “It’s the Selenites.” - -The Selenites! My mind hung on that for a space. Then my memories came -back to me: the snowy desolation, the thawing of the air, the growth of -the plants, our strange hopping and crawling among the rocks and -vegetation of the crater. All the distress of our frantic search for -the sphere returned to me.... Finally the opening of the great lid that -covered the pit! - -Then as I strained to trace our later movements down to our present -plight, the pain in my head became intolerable. I came to an -insurmountable barrier, an obstinate blank. - -“Cavor!” - -“Yes?” - -“Where are we?” - -“How should I know?” - -“Are we dead?” - -“What nonsense!” - -“They’ve got us, then!” - -He made no answer but a grunt. The lingering traces of the poison -seemed to make him oddly irritable. - -“What do you mean to do?” - -“How should I know what to do?” - -“Oh, very well!” said I, and became silent. Presently, I was roused -from a stupor. “O _Lord!_” I cried; “I wish you’d stop that buzzing!” - -We lapsed into silence again, listening to the dull confusion of noises -like the muffled sounds of a street or factory that filled our ears. I -could make nothing of it, my mind pursued first one rhythm and then -another, and questioned it in vain. But after a long time I became -aware of a new and sharper element, not mingling with the rest but -standing out, as it were, against that cloudy background of sound. It -was a series of relatively very little definite sounds, tappings and -rubbings, like a loose spray of ivy against a window or a bird moving -about upon a box. We listened and peered about us, but the darkness was -a velvet pall. There followed a noise like the subtle movement of the -wards of a well-oiled lock. And then there appeared before me, hanging -as it seemed in an immensity of black, a thin bright line. - -“Look!” whispered Cavor very softly. - -“What is it?” - -“I don’t know.” - -We stared. - -The thin bright line became a band, and broader and paler. It took upon -itself the quality of a bluish light falling upon a white-washed wall. -It ceased to be parallel-sided; it developed a deep indentation on one -side. I turned to remark this to Cavor, and was amazed to see his ear -in a brilliant illumination—all the rest of him in shadow. I twisted my -head round as well as my bonds would permit. “Cavor,” I said, “it’s -behind!” - -His ear vanished—gave place to an eye! - -Suddenly the crack that had been admitting the light broadened out, and -revealed itself as the space of an opening door. Beyond was a sapphire -vista, and in the doorway stood a grotesque outline silhouetted against -the glare. - -We both made convulsive efforts to turn, and failing, sat staring over -our shoulders at this. My first impression was of some clumsy quadruped -with lowered head. Then I perceived it was the slender pinched body and -short and extremely attenuated bandy legs of a Selenite, with his head -depressed between his shoulders. He was without the helmet and body -covering they wear upon the exterior. - -He was a blank, black figure to us, but instinctively our imaginations -supplied features to his very human outline. I, at least, took it -instantly that he was somewhat hunchbacked, with a high forehead and -long features. - -He came forward three steps and paused for a time. His movements seemed -absolutely noiseless. Then he came forward again. He walked like a -bird, his feet fell one in front of the other. He stepped out of the -ray of light that came through the doorway, and it seemed as though he -vanished altogether in the shadow. - -For a moment my eyes sought him in the wrong place, and then I -perceived him standing facing us both in the full light. Only the human -features I had attributed to him were not there at all! - -Of course I ought to have expected that, only I didn’t. It came to me -as an absolute, for a moment an overwhelming shock. It seemed as though -it wasn’t a face, as though it must needs be a mask, a horror, a -deformity, that would presently be disavowed or explained. There was no -nose, and the thing had dull bulging eyes at the side—in the silhouette -I had supposed they were ears. There were no ears.... I have tried to -draw one of these heads, but I cannot. There was a mouth, downwardly -curved, like a human mouth in a face that stares ferociously.... - -The neck on which the head was poised was jointed in three places, -almost like the short joints in the leg of a crab. The joints of the -limbs I could not see, because of the puttee-like straps in which they -were swathed, and which formed the only clothing the being wore. - -There the thing was, looking at us! - -At the time my mind was taken up by the mad impossibility of the -creature. I suppose he also was amazed, and with more reason, perhaps, -for amazement than we. Only, confound him! he did not show it. We did -at least know what had brought about this meeting of incompatible -creatures. But conceive how it would seem to decent Londoners, for -example, to come upon a couple of living things, as big as men and -absolutely unlike any other earthly animals, careering about among the -sheep in Hyde Park! It must have taken him like that. - -Figure us! We were bound hand and foot, fagged and filthy; our beards -two inches long, our faces scratched and bloody. Cavor you must imagine -in his knickerbockers (torn in several places by the bayonet scrub) his -Jaegar shirt and old cricket cap, his wiry hair wildly disordered, a -tail to every quarter of the heavens. In that blue light his face did -not look red but very dark, his lips and the drying blood upon my hands -seemed black. If possible I was in a worse plight than he, on account -of the yellow fungus into which I had jumped. Our jackets were -unbuttoned, and our shoes had been taken off and lay at our feet. And -we were sitting with our backs to this queer bluish light, peering at -such a monster as Durer might have invented. - -Cavor broke the silence; started to speak, went hoarse, and cleared his -throat. Outside began a terrific bellowing, as if a mooncalf were in -trouble. It ended in a shriek, and everything was still again. - -Presently the Selenite turned about, flickered into the shadow, stood -for a moment retrospective at the door, and then closed it on us; and -once more we were in that murmurous mystery of darkness into which we -had awakened. - - - - -XIII. -Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions - - -For a time neither of us spoke. To focus together all the things we had -brought upon ourselves seemed beyond my mental powers. - -“They’ve got us,” I said at last. - -“It was that fungus.” - -“Well—if I hadn’t taken it we should have fainted and starved.” - -“We might have found the sphere.” - -I lost my temper at his persistence, and swore to myself. For a time we -hated one another in silence. I drummed with my fingers on the floor -between my knees, and gritted the links of my fetters together. -Presently I was forced to talk again. - -“What do you make of it, anyhow?” I asked humbly. - -“They are reasonable creatures—they can make things and do things. -Those lights we saw...” - -He stopped. It was clear he could make nothing of it. - -When he spoke again it was to confess, “After all, they are more human -than we had a right to expect. I suppose—” - -He stopped irritatingly. - -“Yes?” - -“I suppose, anyhow—on any planet where there is an intelligent -animal—it will carry its brain case upward, and have hands, and walk -erect.” - -Presently he broke away in another direction. - -“We are some way in,” he said. “I mean—perhaps a couple of thousand -feet or more.” - -“Why?” - -“It’s cooler. And our voices are so much louder. That faded quality—it -has altogether gone. And the feeling in one’s ears and throat.” - -I had not noted that, but I did now. - -“The air is denser. We must be some depths—a mile even, we may -be—inside the moon.” - -“We never thought of a world inside the moon.” - -“No.” - -“How could we?” - -“We might have done. Only one gets into habits of mind.” - -He thought for a time. - -“_Now_,” he said, “it seems such an obvious thing.” - -“Of course! The moon must be enormously cavernous, with an atmosphere -within, and at the centre of its caverns a sea. - -“One knew that the moon had a lower specific gravity than the earth, -one knew that it had little air or water outside, one knew, too, that -it was sister planet to the earth, and that it was unaccountable that -it should be different in composition. The inference that it was -hollowed out was as clear as day. And yet one never saw it as a fact. -Kepler, of course—” - -His voice had the interest now of a man who has discerned a pretty -sequence of reasoning. - -“Yes,” he said, “Kepler with his _sub-volvani_ was right after all.” - -“I wish you had taken the trouble to find that out before we came,” I -said. - -He answered nothing, buzzing to himself softly, as he pursued his -thoughts. My temper was going. - -“What do you think has become of the sphere, anyhow?” I asked. - -“Lost,” he said, like a man who answers an uninteresting question. - -“Among those plants?” - -“Unless they find it.” - -“And then?” - -“How can I tell?” - -“Cavor,” I said, with a sort of hysterical bitterness, “things look -bright for my Company...” - -He made no answer. - -“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “Just think of all the trouble we took to get -into this pickle! What did we come for? What are we after? What was the -moon to us or we to the moon? We wanted too much, we tried too much. We -ought to have started the little things first. It was you proposed the -moon! Those Cavorite spring blinds! I am certain we could have worked -them for terrestrial purposes. Certain! Did you really understand what -I proposed? A steel cylinder—” - -“Rubbish!” said Cavor. - -We ceased to converse. - -For a time Cavor kept up a broken monologue without much help from me. - -“If they find it,” he began, “if they find it ... what will they do -with it? Well, that’s a question. It may be that’s _the_ question. They -won’t understand it, anyhow. If they understood that sort of thing they -would have come long since to the earth. Would they? Why shouldn’t -they? But they would have sent something—they couldn’t keep their hands -off such a possibility. No! But they will examine it. Clearly they are -intelligent and inquisitive. They will examine it—get inside it—trifle -with the studs. Off! ... That would mean the moon for us for all the -rest of our lives. Strange creatures, strange knowledge....” - -“As for strange knowledge—” said I, and language failed me. - -“Look here, Bedford,” said Cavor, “you came on this expedition of your -own free will.” - -“You said to me, ‘Call it prospecting’.” - -“There’s always risks in prospecting.” - -“Especially when you do it unarmed and without thinking out every -possibility.” - -“I was so taken up with the sphere. The thing rushed on us, and carried -us away.” - -“Rushed on _me_, you mean.” - -“Rushed on me just as much. How was I to know when I set to work on -molecular physics that the business would bring me here—of all places?” - -“It’s this accursed science,” I cried. “It’s the very Devil. The -mediæval priests and persecutors were right and the Moderns are all -wrong. You tamper with it—and it offers you gifts. And directly you -take them it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way. Old passions -and new weapons—now it upsets your religion, now it upsets your social -ideas, now it whirls you off to desolation and misery!” - -“Anyhow, it’s no use your quarrelling with me _now_. These -creatures—these Selenites, or whatever we choose to call them—have got -us tied hand and foot. Whatever temper you choose to go through with it -in, you will have to go through with it.... We have experiences before -us that will need all our coolness.” - -He paused as if he required my assent. But I sat sulking. “Confound -your science!” I said. - -“The problem is communication. Gestures, I fear, will be different. -Pointing, for example. No creatures but men and monkeys point.” - -That was too obviously wrong for me. “Pretty nearly every animal,” I -cried, “points with its eyes or nose.” - -Cavor meditated over that. “Yes,” he said at last, “and we don’t. -There’s such differences—such differences!” - -“One might.... But how can I tell? There is speech. The sounds they -make, a sort of fluting and piping. I don’t see how we are to imitate -that. Is it their speech, that sort of thing? They may have different -senses, different means of communication. Of course they are minds and -we are minds; there must be something in common. Who knows how far we -may not get to an understanding?” - -“The things are outside us,” I said. “They’re more different from us -than the strangest animals on earth. They are a different clay. What is -the good of talking like this?” - -Cavor thought. “I don’t see that. Where there are minds they will have -something _similar_—even though they have been evolved on different -planets. Of course if it was a question of instincts, if we or they are -no more than animals—” - -“Well, _are_ they? They’re much more like ants on their hind legs than -human beings, and who ever got to any sort of understanding with ants?” - -“But these machines and clothing! No, I don’t hold with you, Bedford. -The difference is wide—” - -“It’s insurmountable.” - -“The resemblance must bridge it. I remember reading once a paper by the -late Professor Galton on the possibility of communication between the -planets. Unhappily, at that time it did not seem probable that that -would be of any material benefit to me, and I fear I did not give it -the attention I should have done—in view of this state of affairs. -Yet.... Now, let me see! - -“His idea was to begin with those broad truths that must underlie all -conceivable mental existences and establish a basis on those. The great -principles of geometry, to begin with. He proposed to take some leading -proposition of Euclid’s, and show by construction that its truth was -known to us, to demonstrate, for example, that the angles at the base -of an isosceles triangle are equal, and that if the equal sides be -produced the angles on the other side of the base are equal also, or -that the square on the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal -to the sum of the squares on the two other sides. By demonstrating our -knowledge of these things we should demonstrate our possession of a -reasonable intelligence.... Now, suppose I ... I might draw the -geometrical figure with a wet finger, or even trace it in the air....” - -He fell silent. I sat meditating his words. For a time his wild hope of -communication, of interpretation, with these weird beings held me. Then -that angry despair that was a part of my exhaustion and physical misery -resumed its sway. I perceived with a sudden novel vividness the -extraordinary folly of everything I had ever done. “Ass!” I said; “oh, -ass, unutterable ass.... I seem to exist only to go about doing -preposterous things. Why did we ever leave the thing? ... Hopping about -looking for patents and concessions in the craters of the moon!... If -only we had had the sense to fasten a handkerchief to a stick to show -where we had left the sphere!” - -I subsided, fuming. - -“It is clear,” meditated Cavor, “they are intelligent. One can -hypothecate certain things. As they have not killed us at once, they -must have ideas of mercy. Mercy! at any rate of restraint. Possibly of -intercourse. They may meet us. And this apartment and the glimpses we -had of its guardian. These fetters! A high degree of intelligence...” - -“I wish to heaven,” cried I, “I’d thought even twice! Plunge after -plunge. First one fluky start and then another. It was my confidence in -you! _Why_ didn’t I stick to my play? That was what I was equal to. -That was my world and the life I was made for. I could have finished -that play. I’m certain ... it was a good play. I had the scenario as -good as done. Then.... Conceive it! leaping to the moon! -Practically—I’ve thrown my life away! That old woman in the inn near -Canterbury had better sense.” - -I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. The darkness had given place -to that bluish light again. The door was opening, and several noiseless -Selenites were coming into the chamber. I became quite still, staring -at their grotesque faces. - -Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable strangeness changed to interest. -I perceived that the foremost and second carried bowls. One elemental -need at least our minds could understand in common. They were bowls of -some metal that, like our fetters, looked dark in that bluish light; -and each contained a number of whitish fragments. All the cloudy pain -and misery that oppressed me rushed together and took the shape of -hunger. I eyed these bowls wolfishly, and, though it returned to me in -dreams, at that time it seemed a small matter that at the end of the -arms that lowered one towards me were not hands, but a sort of flap and -thumb, like the end of an elephant’s trunk. The stuff in the bowl was -loose in texture, and whitish brown in colour—rather like lumps of some -cold souffle, and it smelt faintly like mushrooms. From a partially -divided carcass of a mooncalf that we presently saw, I am inclined to -believe it must have been mooncalf flesh. - -My hands were so tightly chained that I could barely contrive to reach -the bowl; but when they saw the effort I made, two of them dexterously -released one of the turns about my wrist. Their tentacle hands were -soft and cold to my skin. I immediately seized a mouthful of the food. -It had the same laxness in texture that all organic structures seem to -have upon the moon; it tasted rather like a gauffre or a damp meringue, -but in no way was it disagreeable. I took two other mouthfuls. “I -_wanted_—foo’!” said I, tearing off a still larger piece.... - -For a time we ate with an utter absence of self-consciousness. We ate -and presently drank like tramps in a soup kitchen. Never before nor -since have I been hungry to the ravenous pitch, and save that I have -had this very experience I could never have believed that, a quarter of -a million of miles out of our proper world, in utter perplexity of -soul, surrounded, watched, touched by beings more grotesque and inhuman -than the worst creations of a nightmare, it would be possible for me to -eat in utter forgetfulness of all these things. They stood about us -watching us, and ever and again making a slight elusive twittering that -stood, I suppose, in the stead of speech. I did not even shiver at -their touch. And when the first zeal of my feeding was over, I could -note that Cavor, too, had been eating with the same shameless abandon. - - - - -XIV. -Experiments in intercourse - - -When at last we had made an end of eating, the Selenites linked our -hands closely together again, and then untwisted the chains about our -feet and rebound them, so as to give us a limited freedom of movement. -Then they unfastened the chains about our waists. To do all this they -had to handle us freely, and ever and again one of their queer heads -came down close to my face, or a soft tentacle-hand touched my head or -neck. I don’t remember that I was afraid then or repelled by their -proximity. I think that our incurable anthropomorphism made us imagine -there were human heads inside their masks. The skin, like everything -else, looked bluish, but that was on account of the light; and it was -hard and shiny, quite in the beetle-wing fashion, not soft, or moist, -or hairy, as a vertebrated animal’s would be. Along the crest of the -head was a low ridge of whitish spines running from back to front, and -a much larger ridge curved on either side over the eyes. The Selenite -who untied me used his mouth to help his hands. - -“They seem to be releasing us,” said Cavor. “Remember we are on the -moon! Make no sudden movements!” - -“Are you going to try that geometry?” - -“If I get a chance. But, of course, they may make an advance first.” - -We remained passive, and the Selenites, having finished their -arrangements, stood back from us, and seemed to be looking at us. I say -seemed to be, because as their eyes were at the side and not in front, -one had the same difficulty in determining the direction in which they -were looking as one has in the case of a hen or a fish. They conversed -with one another in their reedy tones, that seemed to me impossible to -imitate or define. The door behind us opened wider, and, glancing over -my shoulder, I saw a vague large space beyond, in which quite a little -crowd of Selenites were standing. They seemed a curiously miscellaneous -rabble. - -“Do they want us to imitate those sounds?” I asked Cavor. - -“I don’t think so,” he said. - -“It seems to me that they are trying to make us understand something.” - -“I can’t make anything of their gestures. Do you notice this one, who -is worrying with his head like a man with an uncomfortable collar?” - -“Let us shake our heads at him.” - -We did that, and finding it ineffectual, attempted an imitation of the -Selenites’ movements. That seemed to interest them. At any rate they -all set up the same movement. But as that seemed to lead to nothing, we -desisted at last and so did they, and fell into a piping argument among -themselves. Then one of them, shorter and very much thicker than the -others, and with a particularly wide mouth, squatted down suddenly -beside Cavor, and put his hands and feet in the same posture as Cavor’s -were bound, and then by a dexterous movement stood up. - -“Cavor,” I shouted, “they want us to get up!” - -He stared open-mouthed. “That’s it!” he said. - -And with much heaving and grunting, because our hands were tied -together, we contrived to struggle to our feet. The Selenites made way -for our elephantine heavings, and seemed to twitter more volubly. As -soon as we were on our feet the thick-set Selenite came and patted each -of our faces with his tentacles, and walked towards the open doorway. -That also was plain enough, and we followed him. We saw that four of -the Selenites standing in the doorway were much taller than the others, -and clothed in the same manner as those we had seen in the crater, -namely, with spiked round helmets and cylindrical body-cases, and that -each of the four carried a goad with spike and guard made of that same -dull-looking metal as the bowls. These four closed about us, one on -either side of each of us, as we emerged from our chamber into the -cavern from which the light had come. - -We did not get our impression of that cavern all at once. Our attention -was taken up by the movements and attitudes of the Selenites -immediately about us, and by the necessity of controlling our motion, -lest we should startle and alarm them and ourselves by some excessive -stride. In front of us was the short, thick-set being who had solved -the problem of asking us to get up, moving with gestures that seemed, -almost all of them, intelligible to us, inviting us to follow him. His -spout-like face turned from one of us to the other with a quickness -that was clearly interrogative. For a time, I say, we were taken up -with these things. - -But at last the great place that formed a background to our movements -asserted itself. It became apparent that the source of much, at least, -of the tumult of sounds which had filled our ears ever since we had -recovered from the stupefaction of the fungus was a vast mass of -machinery in active movement, whose flying and whirling parts were -visible indistinctly over the heads and between the bodies of the -Selenites who walked about us. And not only did the web of sounds that -filled the air proceed from this mechanism, but also the peculiar blue -light that irradiated the whole place. We had taken it as a natural -thing that a subterranean cavern should be artificially lit, and even -now, though the fact was patent to my eyes, I did not really grasp its -import until presently the darkness came. The meaning and structure of -this huge apparatus we saw I cannot explain, because we neither of us -learnt what it was for or how it worked. One after another, big shafts -of metal flung out and up from its centre, their heads travelling in -what seemed to me to be a parabolic path; each dropped a sort of -dangling arm as it rose towards the apex of its flight and plunged down -into a vertical cylinder, forcing this down before it. About it moved -the shapes of tenders, little figures that seemed vaguely different -from the beings about us. As each of the three dangling arms of the -machine plunged down, there was a clank and then a roaring, and out of -the top of the vertical cylinder came pouring this incandescent -substance that lit the place, and ran over as milk runs over a boiling -pot, and dripped luminously into a tank of light below. It was a cold -blue light, a sort of phosphorescent glow but infinitely brighter, and -from the tanks into which it fell it ran in conduits athwart the -cavern. - -Thud, thud, thud, thud, came the sweeping arms of this unintelligible -apparatus, and the light substance hissed and poured. At first the -thing seemed only reasonably large and near to us, and then I saw how -exceedingly little the Selenites upon it seemed, and I realised the -full immensity of cavern and machine. I looked from this tremendous -affair to the faces of the Selenites with a new respect. I stopped, and -Cavor stopped, and stared at this thunderous engine. - -“But this is stupendous!” I said. “What can it be for?” - -Cavor’s blue-lit face was full of an intelligent respect. “I can’t -dream! Surely these beings— Men could not make a thing like that! Look -at those arms, are they on connecting rods?” - -The thick-set Selenite had gone some paces unheeded. He came back and -stood between us and the great machine. I avoided seeing him, because I -guessed somehow that his idea was to beckon us onward. He walked away -in the direction he wished us to go, and turned and came back, and -flicked our faces to attract our attention. - -Cavor and I looked at one another. - -“Cannot we show him we are interested in the machine?” I said. - -“Yes,” said Cavor. “We’ll try that.” He turned to our guide and smiled, -and pointed to the machine, and pointed again, and then to his head, -and then to the machine. By some defect of reasoning he seemed to -imagine that broken English might help these gestures. “Me look ‘im,” -he said, “me think ‘im very much. Yes.” - -His behaviour seemed to check the Selenites in their desire for our -progress for a moment. They faced one another, their queer heads moved, -the twittering voices came quick and liquid. Then one of them, a lean, -tall creature, with a sort of mantle added to the puttee in which the -others were dressed, twisted his elephant trunk of a hand about Cavor’s -waist, and pulled him gently to follow our guide, who again went on -ahead. Cavor resisted. “We may just as well begin explaining ourselves -now. They may think we are new animals, a new sort of mooncalf perhaps! -It is most important that we should show an intelligent interest from -the outset.” - -He began to shake his head violently. “No, no,” he said, “me not come -on one minute. Me look at ‘im.” - -“Isn’t there some geometrical point you might bring in _apropos_ of -that affair?” I suggested, as the Selenites conferred again. - -“Possibly a parabolic—” he began. - -He yelled loudly, and leaped six feet or more! - -One of the four armed moon-men had pricked him with a goad! - -I turned on the goad-bearer behind me with a swift threatening gesture, -and he started back. This and Cavor’s sudden shout and leap clearly -astonished all the Selenites. They receded hastily, facing us. For one -of those moments that seem to last for ever, we stood in angry protest, -with a scattered semicircle of these inhuman beings about us. - -“He pricked me!” said Cavor, with a catching of the voice. - -“I saw him,” I answered. - -“Confound it!” I said to the Selenites; “we’re not going to stand that! -What on earth do you take us for?” - -I glanced quickly right and left. Far away across the blue wilderness -of cavern I saw a number of other Selenites running towards us; broad -and slender they were, and one with a larger head than the others. The -cavern spread wide and low, and receded in every direction into -darkness. Its roof, I remember, seemed to bulge down as if with the -weight of the vast thickness of rocks that prisoned us. There was no -way out of it—no way out of it. Above, below, in every direction, was -the unknown, and these inhuman creatures, with goads and gestures, -confronting us, and we two unsupported men! - - - - -XV. -The Giddy Bridge - - -Just for a moment that hostile pause endured. I suppose that both we -and the Selenites did some very rapid thinking. My clearest impression -was that there was nothing to put my back against, and that we were -bound to be surrounded and killed. The overwhelming folly of our -presence there loomed over me in black, enormous reproach. Why had I -ever launched myself on this mad, inhuman expedition? - -Cavor came to my side and laid his hand on my arm. His pale and -terrified face was ghastly in the blue light. - -“We can’t do anything,” he said. “It’s a mistake. They don’t -understand. We must go. As they want us to go.” - -I looked down at him, and then at the fresh Selenites who were coming -to help their fellows. “If I had my hands free—” - -“It’s no use,” he panted. - -“No.” - -“We’ll go.” - -And he turned about and led the way in the direction that had been -indicated for us. - -I followed, trying to look as subdued as possible, and feeling at the -chains about my wrists. My blood was boiling. I noted nothing more of -that cavern, though it seemed to take a long time before we had marched -across it, or if I noted anything I forgot it as I saw it. My thoughts -were concentrated, I think, upon my chains and the Selenites, and -particularly upon the helmeted ones with the goads. At first they -marched parallel with us, and at a respectful distance, but presently -they were overtaken by three others, and then they drew nearer, until -they were within arms length again. I winced like a beaten horse as -they came near to us. The shorter, thicker Selenite marched at first on -our right flank, but presently came in front of us again. - -How well the picture of that grouping has bitten into my brain; the -back of Cavor’s downcast head just in front of me, and the dejected -droop of his shoulders, and our guide’s gaping visage, perpetually -jerking about him, and the goad-bearers on either side, watchful, yet -open-mouthed—a blue monochrome. And after all, I _do_ remember one -other thing besides the purely personal affair, which is, that a sort -of gutter came presently across the floor of the cavern, and then ran -along by the side of the path of rock we followed. And it was full of -that same bright blue luminous stuff that flowed out of the great -machine. I walked close beside it, and I can testify it radiated not a -particle of heat. It was brightly shining, and yet it was neither -warmer nor colder than anything else in the cavern. - -Clang, clang, clang, we passed right under the thumping levers of -another vast machine, and so came at last to a wide tunnel, in which we -could even hear the pad, pad, of our shoeless feet, and which, save for -the trickling thread of blue to the right of us, was quite unlit. The -shadows made gigantic travesties of our shapes and those of the -Selenites on the irregular wall and roof of the tunnel. Ever and again -crystals in the walls of the tunnel scintillated like gems, ever and -again the tunnel expanded into a stalactitic cavern, or gave off -branches that vanished into darkness. - -We seemed to be marching down that tunnel for a long time. “Trickle, -trickle,” went the flowing light very softly, and our footfalls and -their echoes made an irregular paddle, paddle. My mind settled down to -the question of my chains. If I were to slip off one turn _so_, and -then to twist it _so_ ... - -If I tried to do it very gradually, would they see I was slipping my -wrist out of the looser turn? If they did, what would they do? - -“Bedford,” said Cavor, “it goes down. It keeps on going down.” - -His remark roused me from my sullen pre-occupation. - -“If they wanted to kill us,” he said, dropping back to come level with -me, “there is no reason why they should not have done it.” - -“No,” I admitted, “that’s true.” - -“They don’t understand us,” he said, “they think we are merely strange -animals, some wild sort of mooncalf birth, perhaps. It will be only -when they have observed us better that they will begin to think we have -minds—” - -“When you trace those geometrical problems,” said I. - -“It may be that.” - -We tramped on for a space. - -“You see,” said Cavor, “these may be Selenites of a lower class.” - -“The infernal fools!” said I viciously, glancing at their exasperating -faces. - -“If we endure what they do to us—” - -“We’ve got to endure it,” said I. - -“There may be others less stupid. This is the mere outer fringe of -their world. It must go down and down, cavern, passage, tunnel, down at -last to the sea—hundreds of miles below.” - -His words made me think of the mile or so of rock and tunnel that might -be over our heads already. It was like a weight dropping on my -shoulders. “Away from the sun and air,” I said. “Even a mine half a -mile deep is stuffy.” - -“This is not, anyhow. It’s probable—Ventilation! The air would blow -from the dark side of the moon to the sunlit, and all the carbonic acid -would well out there and feed those plants. Up this tunnel, for -example, there is quite a breeze. And what a world it must be. The -earnest we have in that shaft, and those machines—” - -“And the goad,” I said. “Don’t forget the goad!” - -He walked a little in front of me for a time. - -“Even that goad—” he said. - -“Well?” - -“I was angry at the time. But—it was perhaps necessary we should get -on. They have different skins, and probably different nerves. They may -not understand our objection—just as a being from Mars might not like -our earthly habit of nudging.” - -“They’d better be careful how they nudge _me_.” - -“And about that geometry. After all, their way is a way of -understanding, too. They begin with the elements of life and not of -thought. Food. Compulsion. Pain. They strike at fundamentals.” - -“There’s no doubt about _that_,” I said. - -He went on to talk of the enormous and wonderful world into which we -were being taken. I realised slowly from his tone, that even now he was -not absolutely in despair at the prospect of going ever deeper into -this inhuman planet-burrow. His mind ran on machines and invention, to -the exclusion of a thousand dark things that beset me. It wasn’t that -he intended to make any use of these things, he simply wanted to know -them. - -“After all,” he said, “this is a tremendous occasion. It is the meeting -of two worlds! What are we going to see? Think of what is below us -here.” - -“We shan’t see much if the light isn’t better,” I remarked. - -“This is only the outer crust. Down below— On this scale— There will be -everything. Do you notice how different they seem one from another? The -story we shall take back!” - -“Some rare sort of animal,” I said, “might comfort himself in that way -while they were bringing him to the Zoo.... It doesn’t follow that we -are going to be shown all these things.” - -“When they find we have reasonable minds,” said Cavor, “they will want -to learn about the earth. Even if they have no generous emotions, they -will teach in order to learn.... And the things they must know! The -unanticipated things!” - -He went on to speculate on the possibility of their knowing things he -had never hoped to learn on earth, speculating in that way, with a raw -wound from that goad already in his skin! Much that he said I forget, -for my attention was drawn to the fact that the tunnel along which we -had been marching was opening out wider and wider. We seemed, from the -feeling of the air, to be going out into a huge space. But how big the -space might really be we could not tell, because it was unlit. Our -little stream of light ran in a dwindling thread and vanished far -ahead. Presently the rocky walls had vanished altogether on either -hand. There was nothing to be seen but the path in front of us and the -trickling hurrying rivulet of blue phosphorescence. The figures of -Cavor and the guiding Selenite marched before me, the sides of their -legs and heads that were towards the rivulet were clear and bright -blue, their darkened sides, now that the reflection of the tunnel wall -no longer lit them, merged indistinguishably in the darkness beyond. - -And soon I perceived that we were approaching a declivity of some sort, -because the little blue stream dipped suddenly out of sight. - -In another moment, as it seemed, we had reached the edge. The shining -stream gave one meander of hesitation and then rushed over. It fell to -a depth at which the sound of its descent was absolutely lost to us. -Far below was a bluish glow, a sort of blue mist—at an infinite -distance below. And the darkness the stream dropped out of became -utterly void and black, save that a thing like a plank projected from -the edge of the cliff and stretched out and faded and vanished -altogether. There was a warm air blowing up out of the gulf. - -For a moment I and Cavor stood as near the edge as we dared, peering -into a blue-tinged profundity. And then our guide was pulling at my -arm. - -Then he left me, and walked to the end of that plank and stepped upon -it, looking back. Then when he perceived we watched him, he turned -about and went on along it, walking as surely as though he was on firm -earth. For a moment his form was distinct, then he became a blue blur, -and then vanished into the obscurity. I became aware of some vague -shape looming darkly out of the black. - -There was a pause. “Surely!—” said Cavor. - -One of the other Selenites walked a few paces out upon the plank, and -turned and looked back at us unconcernedly. The others stood ready to -follow after us. Our guide’s expectant figure reappeared. He was -returning to see why we had not advanced. - -“What is that beyond there?” I asked. - -“I can’t see.” - -“We can’t cross this at any price,” said I. - -“I could not go three steps on it,” said Cavor, “even with my hands -free.” - -We looked at each other’s drawn faces in blank consternation. - -“They can’t know what it is to be giddy!” said Cavor. - -“It’s quite impossible for us to walk that plank.” - -“I don’t believe they see as we do. I’ve been watching them. I wonder -if they know this is simply blackness for us. How can we make them -understand?” - -“Anyhow, we must make them understand.” - -I think we said these things with a vague half hope the Selenites might -somehow understand. I knew quite clearly that all that was needed was -an explanation. Then as I saw their faces, I realised that an -explanation was impossible. Just here it was that our resemblances were -not going to bridge our differences. Well, I wasn’t going to walk the -plank, anyhow. I slipped my wrist very quickly out of the coil of chain -that was loose, and then began to twist my wrists in opposite -directions. I was standing nearest to the bridge, and as I did this two -of the Selenites laid hold of me, and pulled me gently towards it. - -I shook my head violently. “No go,” I said, “no use. You don’t -understand.” - -Another Selenite added his compulsion. I was forced to step forward. - -“I’ve got an idea,” said Cavor; but I knew his ideas. - -“Look here!” I exclaimed to the Selenites. “Steady on! It’s all very -well for you—” - -I sprang round upon my heel. I burst out into curses. For one of the -armed Selenites had stabbed me behind with his goad. - -I wrenched my wrists free from the little tentacles that held them. I -turned on the goad-bearer. “Confound you!” I cried. “I’ve warned you of -that. What on earth do you think I’m made of, to stick that into me? If -you touch me again—” - -By way of answer he pricked me forthwith. - -I heard Cavor’s voice in alarm and entreaty. Even then I think he -wanted to compromise with these creatures. “I say, Bedford,” he cried, -“I know a way!” But the sting of that second stab seemed to set free -some pent-up reserve of energy in my being. Instantly the link of the -wrist-chain snapped, and with it snapped all considerations that had -held us unresisting in the hands of these moon creatures. For that -second, at least, I was mad with fear and anger. I took no thought of -consequences. I hit straight out at the face of the thing with the -goad. The chain was twisted round my fist. - -There came another of these beastly surprises of which the moon world -is full. - -My mailed hand seemed to go clean through him. He smashed like—like -some softish sort of sweet with liquid in it! He broke right in! He -squelched and splashed. It was like hitting a damp toadstool. The -flimsy body went spinning a dozen yards, and fell with a flabby impact. -I was astonished. I was incredulous that any living thing could be so -flimsy. For an instant I could have believed the whole thing a dream. - -Then it had become real and imminent again. Neither Cavor nor the other -Selenites seemed to have done anything from the time when I had turned -about to the time when the dead Selenite hit the ground. Every one -stood back from us two, every one alert. That arrest seemed to last at -least a second after the Selenite was down. Every one must have been -taking the thing in. I seem to remember myself standing with my arm -half retracted, trying also to take it in. “What next?” clamoured my -brain; “what next?” Then in a moment every one was moving! - -I perceived we must get our chains loose, and that before we could do -this these Selenites had to be beaten off. I faced towards the group of -the three goad-bearers. Instantly one threw his goad at me. It swished -over my head, and I suppose went flying into the abyss behind. - -I leaped right at him with all my might as the goad flew over me. He -turned to run as I jumped, and I bore him to the ground, came down -right upon him, and slipped upon his smashed body and fell. He seemed -to wriggle under my foot. - -I came into a sitting position, and on every hand the blue backs of the -Selenites were receding into the darkness. I bent a link by main force -and untwisted the chain that had hampered me about the ankles, and -sprang to my feet, with the chain in my hand. Another goad, flung -javelin-wise, whistled by me, and I made a rush towards the darkness -out of which it had come. Then I turned back towards Cavor, who was -still standing in the light of the rivulet near the gulf convulsively -busy with his wrists, and at the same time jabbering nonsense about his -idea. - -“Come on!” I cried. - -“My hands!” he answered. - -Then, realising that I dared not run back to him, because my -ill-calculated steps might carry me over the edge, he came shuffling -towards me, with his hands held out before him. - -I gripped his chains at once to unfasten them. - -“Where are they?” he panted. - -“Run away. They’ll come back. They’re throwing things! Which way shall -we go?” - -“By the light. To that tunnel. Eh?” - -“Yes,” said I, and his hands were free. - -I dropped on my knees and fell to work on his ankle bonds. Whack came -something—I know not what—and splashed the livid streamlet into drops -about us. Far away on our right a piping and whistling began. - -I whipped the chain off his feet, and put it in his hand. “Hit with -that!” I said, and without waiting for an answer, set off in big bounds -along the path by which we had come. I had a nasty sort of feeling that -these things could jump out of the darkness on to my back. I heard the -impact of his leaps come following after me. - -We ran in vast strides. But that running, you must understand, was an -altogether different thing from any running on earth. On earth one -leaps and almost instantly hits the ground again, but on the moon, -because of its weaker pull, one shot through the air for several -seconds before one came to earth. In spite of our violent hurry this -gave an effect of long pauses, pauses in which one might have counted -seven or eight. “Step,” and one soared off! All sorts of questions ran -through my mind: “Where are the Selenites? What will they do? Shall we -ever get to that tunnel? Is Cavor far behind? Are they likely to cut -him off?” Then whack, stride, and off again for another step. - -I saw a Selenite running in front of me, his legs going exactly as a -man’s would go on earth, saw him glance over his shoulder, and heard -him shriek as he ran aside out of my way into the darkness. He was, I -think, our guide, but I am not sure. Then in another vast stride the -walls of rock had come into view on either hand, and in two more -strides I was in the tunnel, and tempering my pace to its low roof. I -went on to a bend, then stopped and turned back, and plug, plug, plug, -Cavor came into view, splashing into the stream of blue light at every -stride, and grew larger and blundered into me. We stood clutching each -other. For a moment, at least, we had shaken off our captors and were -alone. - -We were both very much out of breath. We spoke in panting, broken -sentences. - -“You’ve spoilt it all!” panted Cavor. “Nonsense,” I cried. “It was that -or death!” - -“What are we to do?” - -“Hide.” - -“How can we?” - -“It’s dark enough.” - -“But where?” - -“Up one of these side caverns.” - -“And then?” - -“Think.” - -“Right—come on.” - -We strode on, and presently came to a radiating dark cavern. Cavor was -in front. He hesitated, and chose a black mouth that seemed to promise -good hiding. He went towards it and turned. - -“It’s dark,” he said. - -“Your legs and feet will light us. You’re wet with that luminous -stuff.” - -“But—” - -A tumult of sounds, and in particular a sound like a clanging gong, -advancing up the main tunnel, became audible. It was horribly -suggestive of a tumultuous pursuit. We made a bolt for the unlit side -cavern forthwith. As we ran along it our way was lit by the irradiation -of Cavor’s legs. “It’s lucky,” I panted, “they took off our boots, or -we should fill this place with clatter.” On we rushed, taking as small -steps as we could to avoid striking the roof of the cavern. After a -time we seemed to be gaining on the uproar. It became muffled, it -dwindled, it died away. - -I stopped and looked back, and I heard the pad, pad of Cavor’s feet -receding. Then he stopped also. “Bedford,” he whispered; “there’s a -sort of light in front of us.” - -I looked, and at first could see nothing. Then I perceived his head and -shoulders dimly outlined against a fainter darkness. I saw, also, that -this mitigation of the darkness was not blue, as all the other light -within the moon had been, but a pallid grey, a very vague, faint white, -the daylight colour. Cavor noted this difference as soon, or sooner, -than I did, and I think, too, that it filled him with much the same -wild hope. - -“Bedford,” he whispered, and his voice trembled. “That light—it is -possible—” - -He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. Then came a pause. Suddenly -I knew by the sound of his feet that he was striding towards that -pallor. I followed him with a beating heart. - - - - -XVI. -Points of View - - -The light grew stronger as we advanced. In a little time it was nearly -as strong as the phosphorescence on Cavor’s legs. Our tunnel was -expanding into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of -it. I perceived something that set my hopes leaping and bounding. - -“Cavor,” I said, “it comes from above! I am certain it comes from -above!” - -He made no answer, but hurried on. - -Indisputably it was a grey light, a silvery light. - -In another moment we were beneath it. It filtered down through a chink -in the walls of the cavern, and as I stared up, drip, came a drop of -water upon my face. I started and stood aside—drip, fell another drop -quite audibly on the rocky floor. - -“Cavor,” I said, “if one of us lifts the other, he can reach that -crack!” - -“I’ll lift you,” he said, and incontinently hoisted me as though I was -a baby. - -I thrust an arm into the crack, and just at my finger tips found a -little ledge by which I could hold. I could see the white light was -very much brighter now. I pulled myself up by two fingers with scarcely -an effort, though on earth I weigh twelve stone, reached to a still -higher corner of rock, and so got my feet on the narrow ledge. I stood -up and searched up the rocks with my fingers; the cleft broadened out -upwardly. “It’s climbable,” I said to Cavor. “Can you jump up to my -hand if I hold it down to you?” - -I wedged myself between the sides of the cleft, rested knee and foot on -the ledge, and extended a hand. I could not see Cavor, but I could hear -the rustle of his movements as he crouched to spring. Then whack and he -was hanging to my arm—and no heavier than a kitten! I lugged him up -until he had a hand on my ledge, and could release me. - -“Confound it!” I said, “any one could be a mountaineer on the moon;” -and so set myself in earnest to the climbing. For a few minutes I -clambered steadily, and then I looked up again. The cleft opened out -steadily, and the light was brighter. Only— - -It was not daylight after all. - -In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could -have beaten my head against the rocks with disappointment. For I beheld -simply an irregularly sloping open space, and all over its slanting -floor stood a forest of little club-shaped fungi, each shining -gloriously with that pinkish silvery light. For a moment I stared at -their soft radiance, then sprang forward and upward among them. I -plucked up half a dozen and flung them against the rocks, and then sat -down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor’s ruddy face came into view. - -“It’s phosphorescence again!” I said. “No need to hurry. Sit down and -make yourself at home.” And as he spluttered over our disappointment, I -began to lob more of these growths into the cleft. - -“I thought it was daylight,” he said. - -“Daylight!” cried I. “Daybreak, sunset, clouds, and windy skies! Shall -we ever see such things again?” - -As I spoke, a little picture of our world seemed to rise before me, -bright and little and clear, like the background of some old Italian -picture. “The sky that changes, and the sea that changes, and the hills -and the green trees and the towns and cities shining in the sun. Think -of a wet roof at sunset, Cavor! Think of the windows of a westward -house!” He made no answer. - -“Here we are burrowing in this beastly world that isn’t a world, with -its inky ocean hidden in some abominable blackness below, and outside -that torrid day and that death stillness of night. And all these things -that are chasing us now, beastly men of leather—insect men, that come -out of a nightmare! After all, they’re right! What business have we -here smashing them and disturbing their world! For all we know the -whole planet is up and after us already. In a minute we may hear them -whimpering, and their gongs going. What are we to do? Where are we to -go? Here we are as comfortable as snakes from Jamrach’s loose in a -Surbiton villa!” - -“It was your fault,” said Cavor. - -“My fault!” I shouted. “Good Lord!” - -“I had an idea!” - -“Curse your ideas!” - -“If we had refused to budge—” - -“Under those goads?” - -“Yes. They would have carried us!” - -“Over that bridge?” - -“Yes. They must have carried us from outside.” - -“I’d rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling.” - -“Good Heavens!” - -I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something -that struck me even then. “Cavor,” I said, “these chains are of gold!” - -He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned -his head slowly and stared at me, and when I had repeated my words, at -the twisted chain about his right hand. “So they are,” he said, “so -they are.” His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He -hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I -sat for a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed -this, until I considered the blue light in which we had been, and which -had taken all the colour out of the metal. And from that discovery I -also started upon a train of thought that carried me wide and far. I -forgot that I had just been asking what business we had in the moon. -Gold.... - -It was Cavor who spoke first. “It seems to me that there are two -courses open to us.” - -“Well?” - -“Either we can attempt to make our way—fight our way if necessary—out -to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere until we find it, -or the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else—” - -He paused. “Yes?” I said, though I knew what was coming. - -“We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding -with the minds of the people in the moon.” - -“So far as I’m concerned—it’s the first.” - -“I doubt.” - -“I don’t.” - -“You see,” said Cavor, “I do not think we can judge the Selenites by -what we have seen of them. Their central world, their civilised world -will be far below in the profounder caverns about their sea. This -region of the crust in which we are is an outlying district, a pastoral -region. At any rate, that is my interpretation. These Selenites we have -seen may be only the equivalent of cowboys and engine-tenders. Their -use of goads—in all probability mooncalf goads—the lack of imagination -they show in expecting us to be able to do just what they can do, their -indisputable brutality, all seem to point to something of that sort. -But if we endured—” - -“Neither of us could endure a six-inch plank across the bottomless pit -for very long.” - -“No,” said Cavor; “but then—” - -“I _won’t_,” I said. - -He discovered a new line of possibilities. “Well, suppose we got -ourselves into some corner, where we could defend ourselves against -these hinds and labourers. If, for example, we could hold out for a -week or so, it is probable that the news of our appearance would filter -down to the more intelligent and populous parts—” - -“If they exist.” - -“They must exist, or whence came those tremendous machines?” - -“That’s possible, but it’s the worst of the two chances.” - -“We might write up inscriptions on walls—” - -“How do we know their eyes would see the sort of marks we made?” - -“If we cut them—” - -“That’s possible, of course.” - -I took up a new thread of thought. “After all,” I said, “I suppose you -don’t think these Selenites so infinitely wiser than men.” - -“They must know a lot more—or at least a lot of different things.” - -“Yes, but—” I hesitated. - -“I think you’ll quite admit, Cavor, that you’re rather an exceptional -man.” - -“How?” - -“Well, you—you’re a rather lonely man—have been, that is. You haven’t -married.” - -“Never wanted to. But why—” - -“And you never grew richer than you happened to be?” - -“Never wanted that either.” - -“You’ve just rooted after knowledge?” - -“Well, a certain curiosity is natural—” - -“You think so. That’s just it. You think every other mind wants to -_know_. I remember once, when I asked you why you conducted all these -researches, you said you wanted your F.R.S., and to have the stuff -called Cavorite, and things like that. You know perfectly well you -didn’t do it for that; but at the time my question took you by -surprise, and you felt you ought to have something to look like a -motive. Really you conducted researches because you _had_ to. It’s your -twist.” - -“Perhaps it is—” - -“It isn’t one man in a million has that twist. Most men want—well, -various things, but very few want knowledge for its own sake. _I_ -don’t, I know perfectly well. Now, these Selenites seem to be a -driving, busy sort of being, but how do you know that even the most -intelligent will take an interest in us or our world? I don’t believe -they’ll even know we have a world. They never come out at night—they’d -freeze if they did. They’ve probably never seen any heavenly body at -all except the blazing sun. How are they to know there is another -world? What does it matter to them if they do? Well, even if they -_have_ had a glimpse of a few stars, or even of the earth crescent, -what of that? Why should people living _inside_ a planet trouble to -observe that sort of thing? Men wouldn’t have done it except for the -seasons and sailing; why should the moon people?... - -“Well, suppose there are a few philosophers like yourself. They are -just the very Selenites who’ll never have heard of our existence. -Suppose a Selenite had dropped on the earth when you were at Lympne, -you’d have been the last man in the world to hear he had come. You -never read a newspaper! You see the chances against you. Well, it’s for -these chances we’re sitting here doing nothing while precious time is -flying. I tell you we’ve got into a fix. We’ve come unarmed, we’ve lost -our sphere, we’ve got no food, we’ve shown ourselves to the Selenites, -and made them think we’re strange, strong, dangerous animals; and -unless these Selenites are perfect fools, they’ll set about now and -hunt us till they find us, and when they find us they’ll try to take us -if they can, and kill us if they can’t, and that’s the end of the -matter. If they take us, they’ll probably kill us, through some -misunderstanding. After we’re done for, they may discuss us perhaps, -but we shan’t get much fun out of that.” - -“Go on.” - -“On the other hand, here’s gold knocking about like cast iron at home. -If only we can get some of it back, if only we can find our sphere -again before they do, and get back, then—” - -“Yes?” - -“We might put the thing on a sounder footing. Come back in a bigger -sphere with guns.” - -“Good Lord!” cried Cavor, as though that was horrible. - -I shied another luminous fungus down the cleft. - -“Look here, Cavor,” I said, “I’ve half the voting power anyhow in this -affair, and this is a case for a practical man. I’m a practical man, -and you are not. I’m not going to trust to Selenites and geometrical -diagrams if I can help it. That’s all. Get back. Drop all this -secrecy—or most of it. And come again.” - -He reflected. “When I came to the moon,” he said, “I ought to have come -alone.” - -“The question before the meeting,” I said, “is how to get back to the -sphere.” - -For a time we nursed our knees in silence. Then he seemed to decide for -my reasons. - -“I think,” he said, “one can get data. It is clear that while the sun -is on this side of the moon the air will be blowing through this planet -sponge from the dark side hither. On this side, at any rate, the air -will be expanding and flowing out of the moon caverns into the -craters.... Very well, there’s a draught here.” - -“So there is.” - -“And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this -cleft goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we -have to go. If we try to get up any sort of chimney or gully there is, -we shall not only get out of these passages where they are hunting for -us—” - -“But suppose the gully is too narrow?” - -“We’ll come down again.” - -“Ssh!” I said suddenly; “what’s that?” - -We listened. At first it was an indistinct murmur, and then one picked -out the clang of a gong. “They must think we are mooncalves,” said I, -“to be frightened at that.” - -“They’re coming along that passage,” said Cavor. - -“They must be.” - -“They’ll not think of the cleft. They’ll go past.” - -I listened again for a space. “This time,” I whispered, “they’re likely -to have some sort of weapon.” - -Then suddenly I sprang to my feet. “Good heavens, Cavor!” I cried. “But -they _will!_ They’ll see the fungi I have been pitching down. They’ll—” - -I didn’t finish my sentence. I turned about and made a leap over the -fungus tops towards the upper end of the cavity. I saw that the space -turned upward and became a draughty cleft again, ascending to -impenetrable darkness. I was about to clamber up into this, and then -with a happy inspiration turned back. - -“What are you doing?” asked Cavor. - -“Go on!” said I, and went back and got two of the shining fungi, and -putting one into the breast pocket of my flannel jacket, so that it -stuck out to light our climbing, went back with the other for Cavor. -The noise of the Selenites was now so loud that it seemed they must be -already beneath the cleft. But it might be they would have difficulty -in clambering in to it, or might hesitate to ascend it against our -possible resistance. At any rate, we had now the comforting knowledge -of the enormous muscular superiority our birth in another planet gave -us. In other minute I was clambering with gigantic vigour after Cavor’s -blue-lit heels. - - - - -XVII. -The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers - - -I do not know how far we clambered before we came to the grating. It -may be we ascended only a few hundred feet, but at the time it seemed -to me we might have hauled and jammed and hopped and wedged ourselves -through a mile or more of vertical ascent. Whenever I recall that time, -there comes into my head the heavy clank of our golden chains that -followed every movement. Very soon my knuckles and knees were raw, and -I had a bruise on one cheek. After a time the first violence of our -efforts diminished, and our movements became more deliberate and less -painful. The noise of the pursuing Selenites had died away altogether. -It seemed almost as though they had not traced us up the crack after -all, in spite of the tell-tale heap of broken fungi that must have lain -beneath it. At times the cleft narrowed so much that we could scarce -squeeze up it; at others it expanded into great drusy cavities, studded -with prickly crystals or thickly beset with dull, shining fungoid -pimples. Sometimes it twisted spirally, and at other times slanted down -nearly to the horizontal direction. Ever and again there was the -intermittent drip and trickle of water by us. Once or twice it seemed -to us that small living things had rustled out of our reach, but what -they were we never saw. They may have been venomous beasts for all I -know, but they did us no harm, and we were now tuned to a pitch when a -weird creeping thing more or less mattered little. And at last, far -above, came the familiar bluish light again, and then we saw that it -filtered through a grating that barred our way. - -We whispered as we pointed this out to one another, and became more and -more cautious in our ascent. Presently we were close under the grating, -and by pressing my face against its bars I could see a limited portion -of the cavern beyond. It was clearly a large space, and lit no doubt by -some rivulet of the same blue light that we had seen flow from the -beating machinery. An intermittent trickle of water dropped ever and -again between the bars near my face. - -My first endeavour was naturally to see what might be upon the floor of -the cavern, but our grating lay in a depression whose rim hid all this -from our eyes. Our foiled attention then fell back upon the suggestion -of the various sounds we heard, and presently my eye caught a number of -faint shadows that played across the dim roof far overhead. - -Indisputably there were several Selenites, perhaps a considerable -number, in this space, for we could hear the noises of their -intercourse, and faint sounds that I identified as their footfalls. -There was also a succession of regularly repeated sounds—chid, chid, -chid—which began and ceased, suggestive of a knife or spade hacking at -some soft substance. Then came a clank as if of chains, a whistle and a -rumble as of a truck running over a hollowed place, and then again that -chid, chid, chid resumed. The shadows told of shapes that moved quickly -and rhythmically, in agreement with that regular sound, and rested when -it ceased. - -We put our heads close together, and began to discuss these things in -noiseless whispers. - -“They are occupied,” I said, “they are occupied in some way.” - -“Yes.” - -“They’re not seeking us, or thinking of us.” - -“Perhaps they have not heard of us.” - -“Those others are hunting about below. If suddenly we appeared here—” - -We looked at one another. - -“There might be a chance to parley,” said Cavor. - -“No,” I said. “Not as we are.” - -For a space we remained, each occupied by his own thoughts. - -Chid, chid, chid went the chipping, and the shadows moved to and fro. - -I looked at the grating. “It’s flimsy,” I said. “We might bend two of -the bars and crawl through.” - -We wasted a little time in vague discussion. Then I took one of the -bars in both hands, and got my feet up against the rock until they were -almost on a level with my head, and so thrust against the bar. It bent -so suddenly that I almost slipped. I clambered about and bent the -adjacent bar in the opposite direction, and then took the luminous -fungus from my pocket and dropped it down the fissure. - -“Don’t do anything hastily,” whispered Cavor, as I twisted myself up -through the opening I had enlarged. I had a glimpse of busy figures as -I came through the grating, and immediately bent down, so that the rim -of the depression in which the grating lay hid me from their eyes, and -so lay flat, signalling advice to Cavor as he also prepared to come -through. Presently we were side by side in the depression, peering over -the edge at the cavern and its occupants. - -It was a much larger cavern than we had supposed from our first glimpse -of it, and we looked up from the lowest portion of its sloping floor. -It widened out as it receded from us, and its roof came down and hid -the remoter portion altogether. And lying in a line along its length, -vanishing at last far away in that tremendous perspective, were a -number of huge shapes, huge pallid hulls, upon which the Selenites were -busy. At first they seemed big white cylinders of vague import. Then I -noted the heads upon them lying towards us, eyeless and skinless like -the heads of sheep at a butcher’s, and perceived they were the -carcasses of mooncalves being cut up, much as the crew of a whaler -might cut up a moored whale. They were cutting off the flesh in strips, -and on some of the farther trunks the white ribs were showing. It was -the sound of their hatchets that made that chid, chid, chid. Some way -away a thing like a trolley cable, drawn and loaded with chunks of lax -meat, was running up the slope of the cavern floor. This enormous long -avenue of hulls that were destined to be food gave us a sense of the -vast populousness of the moon world second only to the effect of our -first glimpse down the shaft. - -It seemed to me at first that the Selenites must be standing on -trestle-supported planks,[2] and then I saw that the planks and -supports and the hatchets were really of the same leaden hue as my -fetters had seemed before white light came to bear on them. A number of -very thick-looking crowbars lay about the floor, and had apparently -assisted to turn the dead mooncalf over on its side. They were perhaps -six feet long, with shaped handles, very tempting-looking weapons. The -whole place was lit by three transverse streams of the blue fluid. - - [2] I do not remember seeing any wooden things on the moon; doors, - tables, everything corresponding to our terrestrial joinery was made - of metal, and I believe for the most part of gold, which as a metal - would, of course, naturally recommend itself—other things being - equal—on account of the ease in working it, and its toughness and - durability. - - -We lay for a long time noting all these things in silence. “Well?” said -Cavor at last. - -I crouched over and turned to him. I had come upon a brilliant idea. -“Unless they lowered those bodies by a crane,” I said, “we must be -nearer the surface than I thought.” - -“Why?” - -“The mooncalf doesn’t hop, and it hasn’t got wings.” - -He peered over the edge of the hollow again. “I wonder now—” he began. -“After all, we have never gone far from the surface—” - -I stopped him by a grip on his arm. I had heard a noise from the cleft -below us! - -We twisted ourselves about, and lay as still as death, with every sense -alert. In a little while I did not doubt that something was quietly -ascending the cleft. Very slowly and quite noiselessly I assured myself -of a good grip on my chain, and waited for that something to appear. - -“Just look at those chaps with the hatchets again,” I said. - -“They’re all right,” said Cavor. - -I took a sort of provisional aim at the gap in the grating. I could -hear now quite distinctly the soft twittering of the ascending -Selenites, the dab of their hands against the rock, and the falling of -dust from their grips as they clambered. - -Then I could see that there was something moving dimly in the blackness -below the grating, but what it might be I could not distinguish. The -whole thing seemed to hang fire just for a moment—then smash! I had -sprung to my feet, struck savagely at something that had flashed out at -me. It was the keen point of a spear. I have thought since that its -length in the narrowness of the cleft must have prevented its being -sloped to reach me. Anyhow, it shot out from the grating like the -tongue of a snake, and missed and flew back and flashed again. But the -second time I snatched and caught it, and wrenched it away, but not -before another had darted ineffectually at me. - -I shouted with triumph as I felt the hold of the Selenite resist my -pull for a moment and give, and then I was jabbing down through the -bars, amidst squeals from the darkness, and Cavor had snapped off the -other spear, and was leaping and flourishing it beside me, and making -inefficient jabs. Clang, clang, came up through the grating, and then -an axe hurtled through the air and whacked against the rocks beyond, to -remind me of the fleshers at the carcasses up the cavern. - -I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving -their axes. They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, -strikingly different from the ones we had seen before. If they had not -heard of us before, they must have realised the situation with -incredible swiftness. I stared at them for a moment, spear in hand. -“Guard that grating, Cavor,” I cried, howled to intimidate them, and -rushed to meet them. Two of them missed with their hatchets, and the -rest fled incontinently. Then the two also were sprinting away up the -cavern, with hands clenched and heads down. I never saw men run like -them! - -I knew the spear I had was no good for me. It was thin and flimsy, only -effectual for a thrust, and too long for a quick recover. So I only -chased the Selenites as far as the first carcass, and stopped there and -picked up one of the crowbars that were lying about. It felt -comfortingly heavy, and equal to smashing any number of Selenites. I -threw away my spear, and picked up a second crowbar for the other hand. -I felt five times better than I had with the spear. I shook the two -threateningly at the Selenites, who had come to a halt in a little -crowd far away up the cavern, and then turned about to look at Cavor. - -He was leaping from side to side of the grating, making threatening -jabs with his broken spear. That was all right. It would keep the -Selenites down—for a time at any rate. I looked up the cavern again. -What on earth were we going to do now? - -We were cornered in a sort of way already. But these butchers up the -cavern had been surprised, they were probably scared, and they had no -special weapons, only those little hatchets of theirs. And that way lay -escape. Their sturdy little forms—ever so much shorter and thicker than -the mooncalf herds—were scattered up the slope in a way that was -eloquent of indecision. I had the moral advantage of a mad bull in a -street. But for all that, there seemed a tremendous crowd of them. Very -probably there was. Those Selenites down the cleft had certainly some -infernally long spears. It might be they had other surprises for us.... -But, confound it! if we charged up the cave we should let them up -behind us, and if we didn’t those little brutes up the cave would -probably get reinforced. Heaven alone knew what tremendous engines of -warfare—guns, bombs, terrestrial torpedoes—this unknown world below our -feet, this vaster world of which we had only pricked the outer cuticle, -might not presently send up to our destruction. It became clear the -only thing to do was to charge! It became clearer as the legs of a -number of fresh Selenites appeared running down the cavern towards us. - -“Bedford!” cried Cavor, and behold! he was halfway between me and the -grating. - -“Go back!” I cried. “What are you doing—” - -“They’ve got—it’s like a gun!” - -And struggling in the grating between those defensive spears appeared -the head and shoulders of a singularly lean and angular Selenite, -bearing some complicated apparatus. - -I realised Cavor’s utter incapacity for the fight we had in hand. For a -moment I hesitated. Then I rushed past him whirling my crowbars, and -shouting to confound the aim of the Selenite. He was aiming in the -queerest way with the thing against his stomach. “_Chuzz!_” The thing -wasn’t a gun; it went off like a cross-bow more, and dropped me in the -middle of a leap. - -I didn’t fall down, I simply came down a little shorter than I should -have done if I hadn’t been hit, and from the feel of my shoulder the -thing might have tapped me and glanced off. Then my left hand hit -against the shaft, and I perceived there was a sort of spear sticking -half through my shoulder. The moment after I got home with the crowbar -in my right hand, and hit the Selenite fair and square. He collapsed—he -crushed and crumpled—his head smashed like an egg. - -I dropped a crowbar, pulled the spear out of my shoulder, and began to -jab it down the grating into the darkness. At each jab came a shriek -and twitter. Finally I hurled the spear down upon them with all my -strength, leapt up, picked up the crowbar again, and started for the -multitude up the cavern. - -“Bedford!” cried Cavor. “Bedford!” as I flew past him. - -I seem to remember his footsteps coming on behind me. - -Step, leap ... whack, step, leap.... Each leap seemed to last ages. -With each, the cave opened out and the number of Selenites visible -increased. At first they seemed all running about like ants in a -disturbed ant-hill, one or two waving hatchets and coming to meet me, -more running away, some bolting sideways into the avenue of carcasses, -then presently others came in sight carrying spears, and then others. I -saw a most extraordinary thing, all hands and feet, bolting for cover. -The cavern grew darker farther up. - -Flick! something flew over my head. Flick! As I soared in mid-stride I -saw a spear hit and quiver in one of the carcasses to my left. Then, as -I came down, one hit the ground before me, and I heard the remote -chuzz! with which their things were fired. Flick, flick! for a moment -it was a shower. They were volleying! - -I stopped dead. - -I don’t think I thought clearly then. I seem to remember a kind of -stereotyped phrase running through my mind: “Zone of fire, seek cover!” -I know I made a dash for the space between two of the carcasses, and -stood there panting and feeling very wicked. - -I looked round for Cavor, and for a moment it seemed as if he had -vanished from the world. Then he came out of the darkness between the -row of the carcasses and the rocky wall of the cavern. I saw his little -face, dark and blue, and shining with perspiration and emotion. - -He was saying something, but what it was I did not heed. I had realised -that we might work from mooncalf to mooncalf up the cave until we were -near enough to charge home. It was charge or nothing. “Come on!” I -said, and led the way. - -“Bedford!” he cried unavailingly. - -My mind was busy as we went up that narrow alley between the dead -bodies and the wall of the cavern. The rocks curved about—they could -not enfilade us. Though in that narrow space we could not leap, yet -with our earth-born strength we were still able to go very much faster -than the Selenites. I reckoned we should presently come right among -them. Once we were on them, they would be nearly as formidable as black -beetles. Only there would first of all be a volley. I thought of a -stratagem. I whipped off my flannel jacket as I ran. - -“Bedford!” panted Cavor behind me. - -I glanced back. “What?” said I. - -He was pointing upward over the carcasses. “White light!” he said. -“White light again!” - -I looked, and it was even so; a faint white ghost of light in the -remoter cavern roof. That seemed to give me double strength. - -“Keep close,” I said. A flat, long Selenite dashed out of the darkness, -and squealed and fled. I halted, and stopped Cavor with my hand. I hung -my jacket over my crowbar, ducked round the next carcass, dropped -jacket and crowbar, showed myself, and darted back. - -“Chuzz-flick,” just one arrow came. We were close on the Selenites, and -they were standing in a crowd, broad, short, and tall together, with a -little battery of their shooting implements pointing down the cave. -Three or four other arrows followed the first, then their fire ceased. - -I stuck out my head, and escaped by a hair’s-breadth. This time I drew -a dozen shots or more, and heard the Selenites shouting and twittering -as if with excitement as they shot. I picked up jacket and crowbar -again. - -“_Now!_” said I, and thrust out the jacket. - -“Chuzz-zz-zz-zz! Chuzz!” In an instant my jacket had grown a thick -beard of arrows, and they were quivering all over the carcass behind -us. Instantly I slipped the crowbar out of the jacket, dropped the -jacket—for all I know to the contrary it is lying up there in the moon -now—and rushed out upon them. - -For a minute perhaps it was massacre. I was too fierce to discriminate, -and the Selenites were probably too scared to fight. At any rate they -made no sort of fight against me. I saw scarlet, as the saying is. I -remember I seemed to be wading among those leathery, thin things as a -man wades through tall grass, mowing and hitting, first right, then -left; smash. Little drops of moisture flew about. I trod on things that -crushed and piped and went slippery. The crowd seemed to open and close -and flow like water. They seemed to have no combined plan whatever. -There were spears flew about me, I was grazed over the ear by one. I -was stabbed once in the arm and once in the cheek, but I only found -that out afterwards, when the blood had had time to run and cool and -feel wet. - -What Cavor did I do not know. For a space it seemed that this fighting -had lasted for an age, and must needs go on for ever. Then suddenly it -was all over, and there was nothing to be seen but the backs of heads -bobbing up and down as their owners ran in all directions.... I seemed -altogether unhurt. I ran forward some paces, shouting, then turned -about. I was amazed. - -I had come right through them in vast flying strides, they were all -behind me, and running hither and thither to hide. - -I felt an enormous astonishment at the evaporation of the great fight -into which I had hurled myself, and not a little exultation. It did not -seem to me that I had discovered the Selenites were unexpectedly -flimsy, but that I was unexpectedly strong. I laughed stupidly. This -fantastic moon! - -I glanced for a moment at the smashed and writhing bodies that were -scattered over the cavern floor, with a vague idea of further violence, -then hurried on after Cavor. - - - - -XVIII. -In the Sunlight - - -Presently we saw that the cavern before us opened upon a hazy void. In -another moment we had emerged upon a sort of slanting gallery, that -projected into a vast circular space, a huge cylindrical pit running -vertically up and down. Round this pit the slanting gallery ran without -any parapet or protection for a turn and a half, and then plunged high -above into the rock again. Somehow it reminded me then of one of those -spiral turns of the railway through the Saint Gothard. It was all -tremendously huge. I can scarcely hope to convey to you the Titanic -proportion of all that place, the Titanic effect of it. Our eyes -followed up the vast declivity of the pit wall, and overhead and far -above we beheld a round opening set with faint stars, and half of the -lip about it well nigh blinding with the white light of the sun. At -that we cried aloud simultaneously. - -“Come on!” I said, leading the way. - -“But there?” said Cavor, and very carefully stepped nearer the edge of -the gallery. I followed his example, and craned forward and looked -down, but I was dazzled by that gleam of light above, and I could see -only a bottomless darkness with spectral patches of crimson and purple -floating therein. Yet if I could not see, I could hear. Out of this -darkness came a sound, a sound like the angry hum one can hear if one -puts one’s ear outside a hive of bees, a sound out of that enormous -hollow, it may be, four miles beneath our feet... - -For a moment I listened, then tightened my grip on my crowbar, and led -the way up the gallery. - -“This must be the shaft we looked down upon,” said Cavor. “Under that -lid.” - -“And below there, is where we saw the lights.” - -“The lights!” said he. “Yes—the lights of the world that now we shall -never see.” - -“We’ll come back,” I said, for now we had escaped so much I was rashly -sanguine that we should recover the sphere. - -His answer I did not catch. - -“Eh?” I asked. - -“It doesn’t matter,” he answered, and we hurried on in silence. - -I suppose that slanting lateral way was four or five miles long, -allowing for its curvature, and it ascended at a slope that would have -made it almost impossibly steep on earth, but which one strode up -easily under lunar conditions. We saw only two Selenites during all -that portion of our flight, and directly they became aware of us they -ran headlong. It was clear that the knowledge of our strength and -violence had reached them. Our way to the exterior was unexpectedly -plain. The spiral gallery straightened into a steeply ascendent tunnel, -its floor bearing abundant traces of the mooncalves, and so straight -and short in proportion to its vast arch, that no part of it was -absolutely dark. Almost immediately it began to lighten, and then far -off and high up, and quite blindingly brilliant, appeared its opening -on the exterior, a slope of Alpine steepness surmounted by a crest of -bayonet shrub, tall and broken down now, and dry and dead, in spiky -silhouette against the sun. - -And it is strange that we men, to whom this very vegetation had seemed -so weird and horrible a little time ago, should now behold it with the -emotion a home-coming exile might feel at sight of his native land. We -welcomed even the rareness of the air that made us pant as we ran, and -which rendered speaking no longer the easy thing that it had been, but -an effort to make oneself heard. Larger grew the sunlit circle above -us, and larger, and all the nearer tunnel sank into a rim of -indistinguishable black. We saw the dead bayonet shrub no longer with -any touch of green in it, but brown and dry and thick, and the shadow -of its upper branches high out of sight made a densely interlaced -pattern upon the tumbled rocks. And at the immediate mouth of the -tunnel was a wide trampled space where the mooncalves had come and -gone. - -We came out upon this space at last into a light and heat that hit and -pressed upon us. We traversed the exposed area painfully, and clambered -up a slope among the scrub stems, and sat down at last panting in a -high place beneath the shadow of a mass of twisted lava. Even in the -shade the rock felt hot. - -The air was intensely hot, and we were in great physical discomfort, -but for all that we were no longer in a nightmare. We seemed to have -come to our own province again, beneath the stars. All the fear and -stress of our flight through the dim passages and fissures below had -fallen from us. That last fight had filled us with an enormous -confidence in ourselves so far as the Selenites were concerned. We -looked back almost incredulously at the black opening from which we had -just emerged. Down there it was, in a blue glow that now in our -memories seemed the next thing to absolute darkness, we had met with -things like mad mockeries of men, helmet-headed creatures, and had -walked in fear before them, and had submitted to them until we could -submit no longer. And behold, they had smashed like wax and scattered -like chaff, and fled and vanished like the creatures of a dream! - -I rubbed my eyes, doubting whether we had not slept and dreamt these -things by reason of the fungus we had eaten, and suddenly discovered -the blood upon my face, and then that my shirt was sticking painfully -to my shoulder and arm. - -“Confound it!” I said, gauging my injuries with an investigatory hand, -and suddenly that distant tunnel mouth became, as it were, a watching -eye. - -“Cavor!” I said; “what are they going to do now? And what are we going -to do?” - -He shook his head, with his eyes fixed upon the tunnel. “How can one -tell what they will do?” - -“It depends on what they think of us, and I don’t see how we can begin -to guess that. And it depends upon what they have in reserve. It’s as -you say, Cavor, we have touched the merest outside of this world. They -may have all sorts of things inside here. Even with those shooting -things they might make it bad for us.... - -“Yet after all,” I said, “even if we _don’t_ find the sphere at once, -there is a chance for us. We might hold out. Even through the night. We -might go down there again and make a fight for it.” - -I stared about me with speculative eyes. The character of the scenery -had altered altogether by reason of the enormous growth and subsequent -drying of the scrub. The crest on which we sat was high, and commanded -a wide prospect of the crater landscape, and we saw it now all sere and -dry in the late autumn of the lunar afternoon. Rising one behind the -other were long slopes and fields of trampled brown where the -mooncalves had pastured, and far away in the full blaze of the sun a -drove of them basked slumberously, scattered shapes, each with a blot -of shadow against it like sheep on the side of a down. But never a sign -of a Selenite was to be seen. Whether they had fled on our emergence -from the interior passages, or whether they were accustomed to retire -after driving out the mooncalves, I cannot guess. At the time I -believed the former was the case. - -“If we were to set fire to all this stuff,” I said, “we might find the -sphere among the ashes.” - -Cavor did not seem to hear me. He was peering under his hand at the -stars, that still, in spite of the intense sunlight, were abundantly -visible in the sky. “How long do you think we’ve have been here?” he -asked at last. - -“Been where?” - -“On the moon.” - -“Two earthly days, perhaps.” - -“More nearly ten. Do you know, the sun is past its zenith, and sinking -in the west. In four days’ time or less it will be night.” - -“But—we’ve only eaten once!” - -“I know that. And— But there are the stars!” - -“But why should time seem different because we are on a smaller -planet?” - -“I don’t know. There it is!” - -“How does one tell time?” - -“Hunger—fatigue—all those things are different. Everything is -different—everything. To me it seems that since first we came out of -the sphere has been only a question of hours—long hours—at most.” - -“Ten days,” I said; “that leaves—” I looked up at the sun for a moment, -and then saw that it was halfway from the zenith to the western edge of -things. “Four days! ... Cavor, we mustn’t sit here and dream. How do -you think we may begin?” - -I stood up. “We must get a fixed point we can recognise—we might hoist -a flag, or a handkerchief, or something—and quarter the ground, and -work round that.” - -He stood up beside me. - -“Yes,” he said, “there is nothing for it but to hunt the sphere. -Nothing. We may find it—certainly we may find it. And if not—” - -“We must keep on looking.” - -He looked this way and that, glanced up at the sky and down at the -tunnel, and astonished me by a sudden gesture of impatience. “Oh! but -we have done foolishly! To have come to this pass! Think how it might -have been, and the things we might have done!” - -“We might do something yet.” - -“Never the thing we might have done. Here below our feet is a world. -Think of what that world must be! Think of that machine we saw, and the -lid and the shaft! They were just remote outlying things, and those -creatures we have seen and fought with no more than ignorant peasants, -dwellers in the outskirts, yokels and labourers half akin to brutes. -Down below! Caverns beneath caverns, tunnels, structures, ways... It -must open out, and be greater and wider and more populous as one -descends. Assuredly. Right down at the last the central sea that washes -round the core of the moon. Think of its inky waters under the spare -lights—if, indeed, their eyes _need_ lights! Think of the cascading -tributaries pouring down their channels to feed it! Think of the tides -upon its surface, and the rush and swirl of its ebb and flow! Perhaps -they have ships that go upon it, perhaps down there are mighty cities -and swarming ways, and wisdom and order passing the wit of man. And we -may die here upon it, and never see the masters who _must_ be—ruling -over these things! We may freeze and die here, and the air will freeze -and thaw upon us, and then—! Then they will come upon us, come on our -stiff and silent bodies, and find the sphere we cannot find, and they -will understand at last too late all the thought and effort that ended -here in vain!” - -His voice for all that speech sounded like the voice of someone heard -in a telephone, weak and far away. - -“But the darkness,” I said. - -“One might get over that.” - -“How?” - -“I don’t know. How am I to know? One might carry a torch, one might -have a lamp— The others—might understand.” - -He stood for a moment with his hands held down and a rueful face, -staring out over the waste that defied him. Then with a gesture of -renunciation he turned towards me with proposals for the systematic -hunting of the sphere. - -“We can return,” I said. - -He looked about him. “First of all we shall have to get to earth.” - -“We could bring back lamps to carry and climbing irons, and a hundred -necessary things.” - -“Yes,” he said. - -“We can take back an earnest of success in this gold.” - -He looked at my golden crowbars, and said nothing for a space. He stood -with his hands clasped behind his back, staring across the crater. At -last he signed and spoke. “It was _I_ found the way here, but to find a -way isn’t always to be master of a way. If I take my secret back to -earth, what will happen? I do not see how I can keep my secret for a -year, for even a part of a year. Sooner or later it must come out, even -if other men rediscover it. And then ... Governments and powers will -struggle to get hither, they will fight against one another, and -against these moon people; it will only spread warfare and multiply the -occasions of war. In a little while, in a very little while, if I tell -my secret, this planet to its deepest galleries will be strewn with -human dead. Other things are doubtful, but that is certain. It is not -as though man had any use for the moon. What good would the moon be to -men? Even of their own planet what have they made but a battle-ground -and theatre of infinite folly? Small as his world is, and short as his -time, he has still in his little life down there far more than he can -do. No! Science has toiled too long forging weapons for fools to use. -It is time she held her hand. Let him find it out for himself again—in -a thousand years’ time.” - -“There are methods of secrecy,” I said. - -He looked up at me and smiled. “After all,” he said, “why should one -worry? There is little chance of our finding the sphere, and down below -things are brewing. It’s simply the human habit of hoping till we die -that makes us think of return. Our troubles are only beginning. We have -shown these moon folk violence, we have given them a taste of our -quality, and our chances are about as good as a tiger’s that has got -loose and killed a man in Hyde Park. The news of us must be running -down from gallery to gallery, down towards the central parts.... No -sane beings will ever let us take that sphere back to earth after so -much as they have seen of us.” - -“We aren’t improving our chances,” said I, “by sitting here.” - -We stood up side by side. - -“After all,” he said, “we must separate. We must stick up a -handkerchief on these tall spikes here and fasten it firmly, and from -this as a centre we must work over the crater. You must go westward, -moving out in semicircles to and fro towards the setting sun. You must -move first with your shadow on your right until it is at right angles -with the direction of your handkerchief, and then with your shadow on -your left. And I will do the same to the east. We will look into every -gully, examine every skerry of rocks; we will do all we can to find my -sphere. If we see the Selenites we will hide from them as well as we -can. For drink we must take snow, and if we feel the need of food, we -must kill a mooncalf if we can, and eat such flesh as it has—raw—and so -each will go his own way.” - -“And if one of us comes upon the sphere?” - -“He must come back to the white handkerchief, and stand by it and -signal to the other.” - -“And if neither?” - -Cavor glanced up at the sun. “We go on seeking until the night and cold -overtake us.” - -“Suppose the Selenites have found the sphere and hidden it?” - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -“Or if presently they come hunting us?” - -He made no answer. - -“You had better take a club,” I said. - -He shook his head, and stared away from me across the waste. - -But for a moment he did not start. He looked round at me shyly, -hesitated. “_Au revoir_,” he said. - -I felt an odd stab of emotion. A sense of how we had galled each other, -and particularly how I must have galled him, came to me. “Confound it,” -thought I, “we might have done better!” I was on the point of asking -him to shake hands—for that, somehow, was how I felt just then—when he -put his feet together and leapt away from me towards the north. He -seemed to drift through the air as a dead leaf would do, fell lightly, -and leapt again. I stood for a moment watching him, then faced westward -reluctantly, pulled myself together, and with something of the feeling -of a man who leaps into icy water, selected a leaping point, and -plunged forward to explore my solitary half of the moon world. I -dropped rather clumsily among rocks, stood up and looked about me, -clambered on to a rocky slab, and leapt again.... - -When presently I looked for Cavor he was hidden from my eyes, but the -handkerchief showed out bravely on its headland, white in the blaze of -the sun. - -I determined not to lose sight of that handkerchief whatever might -betide. - - - - -XIX. -Mr. Bedford Alone - - -In a little while it seemed to me as though I had always been alone on -the moon. I hunted for a time with a certain intentness, but the heat -was still very great, and the thinness of the air felt like a hoop -about one’s chest. I came presently into a hollow basin bristling with -tall, brown, dry fronds about its edge, and I sat down under these to -rest and cool. I intended to rest for only a little while. I put down -my clubs beside me, and sat resting my chin on my hands. I saw with a -sort of colourless interest that the rocks of the basin, where here and -there the crackling dry lichens had shrunk away to show them, were all -veined and splattered with gold, that here and there bosses of rounded -and wrinkled gold projected from among the litter. What did that matter -now? A sort of languor had possession of my limbs and mind, I did not -believe for a moment that we should ever find the sphere in that vast -desiccated wilderness. I seemed to lack a motive for effort until the -Selenites should come. Then I supposed I should exert myself, obeying -that unreasonable imperative that urges a man before all things to -preserve and defend his life, albeit he may preserve it only to die -more painfully in a little while. - -Why had we come to the moon? - -The thing presented itself to me as a perplexing problem. What is this -spirit in man that urges him for ever to depart from happiness and -security, to toil, to place himself in danger, to risk even a -reasonable certainty of death? It dawned upon me up there in the moon -as a thing I ought always to have known, that man is not made simply to -go about being safe and comfortable and well fed and amused. Almost any -man, if you put the thing to him, not in words, but in the shape of -opportunities, will show that he knows as much. Against his interest, -against his happiness, he is constantly being driven to do unreasonable -things. Some force not himself impels him, and go he must. But why? -Why? Sitting there in the midst of that useless moon gold, amidst the -things of another world, I took count of all my life. Assuming I was to -die a castaway upon the moon, I failed altogether to see what purpose I -had served. I got no light on that point, but at any rate it was -clearer to me than it had ever been in my life before that I was not -serving my own purpose, that all my life I had in truth never served -the purposes of my private life. Whose purposes, what purposes, was I -serving? ... I ceased to speculate on why we had come to the moon, and -took a wider sweep. Why had I come to the earth? Why had I a private -life at all? ... I lost myself at last in bottomless speculations.... - -My thoughts became vague and cloudy, no longer leading in definite -directions. I had not felt heavy or weary—I cannot imagine one doing so -upon the moon—but I suppose I was greatly fatigued. At any rate I -slept. - -Slumbering there rested me greatly, I think, and the sun was setting -and the violence of the heat abating, through all the time I slumbered. -When at last I was roused from my slumbers by a remote clamour, I felt -active and capable again. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. I -rose to my feet—I was a little stiff—and at once prepared to resume my -search. I shouldered my golden clubs, one on each shoulder, and went on -out of the ravine of the gold-veined rocks. - -The sun was certainly lower, much lower than it had been; the air was -very much cooler. I perceived I must have slept some time. It seemed to -me that a faint touch of misty blueness hung about the western cliff. I -leapt to a little boss of rock and surveyed the crater. I could see no -signs of mooncalves or Selenites, nor could I see Cavor, but I could -see my handkerchief far off, spread out on its thicket of thorns. I -looked about me, and then leapt forward to the next convenient -view-point. - -I beat my way round in a semicircle, and back again in a still remoter -crescent. It was very fatiguing and hopeless. The air was really very -much cooler, and it seemed to me that the shadow under the westward -cliff was growing broad. Ever and again I stopped and reconnoitred, but -there was no sign of Cavor, no sign of Selenites; and it seemed to me -the mooncalves must have been driven into the interior again—I could -see none of them. I became more and more desirous of seeing Cavor. The -winged outline of the sun had sunk now, until it was scarcely the -distance of its diameter from the rim of the sky. I was oppressed by -the idea that the Selenites would presently close their lids and -valves, and shut us out under the inexorable onrush of the lunar night. -It seemed to me high time that he abandoned his search, and that we -took counsel together. I felt how urgent it was that we should decide -soon upon our course. We had failed to find the sphere, we no longer -had time to seek it, and once these valves were closed with us outside, -we were lost men. The great night of space would descend upon us—that -blackness of the void which is the only absolute death. All my being -shrank from that approach. We must get into the moon again, though we -were slain in doing it. I was haunted by a vision of our freezing to -death, of our hammering with our last strength on the valve of the -great pit. - -I took no thought any more of the sphere. I thought only of finding -Cavor again. I was half inclined to go back into the moon without him, -rather than seek him until it was too late. I was already half-way back -towards our handkerchief, when suddenly— - -I saw the sphere! - -I did not find it so much as it found me. It was lying much farther to -the westward than I had gone, and the sloping rays of the sinking sun -reflected from its glass had suddenly proclaimed its presence in a -dazzling beam. For an instant I thought this was some new device of the -Selenites against us, and then I understood. - -I threw up my arms, shouted a ghostly shout, and set off in vast leaps -towards it. I missed one of my leaps and dropped into a deep ravine and -twisted my ankle, and after that I stumbled at almost every leap. I was -in a state of hysterical agitation, trembling violently, and quite -breathless long before I got to it. Three times at least I had to stop -with my hands resting on my side and in spite of the thin dryness of -the air, the perspiration was wet upon my face. - -I thought of nothing but the sphere until I reached it, I forgot even -my trouble of Cavor’s whereabouts. My last leap flung me with my hands -hard against its glass; then I lay against it panting, and trying -vainly to shout, “Cavor! here is the sphere!” When I had recovered a -little I peered through the thick glass, and the things inside seemed -tumbled. I stooped to peer closer. Then I attempted to get in. I had to -hoist it over a little to get my head through the manhole. The screw -stopper was inside, and I could see now that nothing had been touched, -nothing had suffered. It lay there as we had left it when we had -dropped out amidst the snow. For a time I was wholly occupied in making -and remaking this inventory. I found I was trembling violently. It was -good to see that familiar dark interior again! I cannot tell you how -good. Presently I crept inside and sat down among the things. I looked -through the glass at the moon world and shivered. I placed my gold -clubs upon the table, and sought out and took a little food; not so -much because I wanted it, but because it was there. Then it occurred to -me that it was time to go out and signal for Cavor. But I did not go -out and signal for Cavor forthwith. Something held me to the sphere. - -After all, everything was coming right. There would be still time for -us to get more of the magic stone that gives one mastery over men. Away -there, close handy, was gold for the picking up; and the sphere would -travel as well half full of gold as though it were empty. We could go -back now, masters of ourselves and our world, and then— - -I roused myself at last, and with an effort got myself out of the -sphere. I shivered as I emerged, for the evening air was growing very -cold. I stood in the hollow staring about me. I scrutinised the bushes -round me very carefully before I leapt to the rocky shelf hard by, and -took once more what had been my first leap in the moon. But now I made -it with no effort whatever. - -The growth and decay of the vegetation had gone on apace, and the whole -aspect of the rocks had changed, but still it was possible to make out -the slope on which the seeds had germinated, and the rocky mass from -which we had taken our first view of the crater. But the spiky shrub on -the slope stood brown and sere now, and thirty feet high, and cast long -shadows that stretched out of sight, and the little seeds that -clustered in its upper branches were brown and ripe. Its work was done, -and it was brittle and ready to fall and crumple under the freezing -air, so soon as the nightfall came. And the huge cacti, that had -swollen as we watched them, had long since burst and scattered their -spores to the four quarters of the moon. Amazing little corner in the -universe—the landing place of men! - -Some day, thought I, I will have an inscription standing there right in -the midst of the hollow. It came to me, if only this teeming world -within knew of the full import of the moment, how furious its tumult -would become! - -But as yet it could scarcely be dreaming of the significance of our -coming. For if it did, the crater would surely be an uproar of pursuit, -instead of as still as death! I looked about for some place from which -I might signal Cavor, and saw that same patch of rock to which he had -leapt from my present standpoint, still bare and barren in the sun. For -a moment I hesitated at going so far from the sphere. Then with a pang -of shame at that hesitation, I leapt.... - -From this vantage point I surveyed the crater again. Far away at the -top of the enormous shadow I cast was the little white handkerchief -fluttering on the bushes. It was very little and very far, and Cavor -was not in sight. It seemed to me that by this time he ought to be -looking for me. That was the agreement. But he was nowhere to be seen. - -I stood waiting and watching, hands shading my eyes, expecting every -moment to distinguish him. Very probably I stood there for quite a long -time. I tried to shout, and was reminded of the thinness of the air. I -made an undecided step back towards the sphere. But a lurking dread of -the Selenites made me hesitate to signal my whereabouts by hoisting one -of our sleeping-blankets on to the adjacent scrub. I searched the -crater again. - -It had an effect of emptiness that chilled me. And it was still. Any -sound from the Selenites in the world beneath had died away. It was as -still as death. Save for the faint stir of the shrub about me in the -little breeze that was rising, there was no sound nor shadow of a -sound. And the breeze blew chill. - -Confound Cavor! - -I took a deep breath. I put my hands to the sides of my mouth. “Cavor!” -I bawled, and the sound was like some manikin shouting far away. - -I looked at the handkerchief, I looked behind me at the broadening -shadow of the westward cliff, I looked under my hand at the sun. It -seemed to me that almost visibly it was creeping down the sky. - -I felt I must act instantly if I was to save Cavor. I whipped off my -vest and flung it as a mark on the sere bayonets of the shrubs behind -me, and then set off in a straight line towards the handkerchief. -Perhaps it was a couple of miles away—a matter of a few hundred leaps -and strides. I have already told how one seemed to hang through those -lunar leaps. In each suspense I sought Cavor, and marvelled why he -should be hidden. In each leap I could feel the sun setting behind me. -Each time I touched the ground I was tempted to go back. - -A last leap and I was in the depression below our handkerchief, a -stride, and I stood on our former vantage point within arms’ reach of -it. I stood up straight and scanned the world about me, between its -lengthening bars of shadow. Far away, down a long declivity, was the -opening of the tunnel up which we had fled, and my shadow reached -towards it, stretched towards it, and touched it, like a finger of the -night. - -Not a sign of Cavor, not a sound in all the stillness, only the stir -and waving of the scrub and of the shadows increased. And suddenly and -violently I shivered. “Cav—” I began, and realised once more the -uselessness of the human voice in that thin air. Silence. The silence -of death. - -Then it was my eye caught something—a little thing lying, perhaps fifty -yards away down the slope, amidst a litter of bent and broken branches. -What was it? I knew, and yet for some reason I would not know. I went -nearer to it. It was the little cricket-cap Cavor had worn. I did not -touch it, I stood looking at it. - -I saw then that the scattered branches about it had been forcibly -smashed and trampled. I hesitated, stepped forward, and picked it up. - -I stood with Cavor’s cap in my hand, staring at the trampled reeds and -thorns about me. On some of them were little smears of something dark, -something that I dared not touch. A dozen yards away, perhaps, the -rising breeze dragged something into view, something small and vividly -white. - -It was a little piece of paper crumpled tightly, as though it had been -clutched tightly. I picked it up, and on it were smears of red. My eye -caught faint pencil marks. I smoothed it out, and saw uneven and broken -writing ending at last in a crooked streak upon the paper. - -I set myself to decipher this. - -“I have been injured about the knee, I think my kneecap is hurt, and I -cannot run or crawl,” it began—pretty distinctly written. - -Then less legibly: “They have been chasing me for some time, and it is -only a question of”—the word “time” seemed to have been written here -and erased in favour of something illegible—“before they get me. They -are beating all about me.” - -Then the writing became convulsive. “I can hear them,” I guessed the -tracing meant, and then it was quite unreadable for a space. Then came -a little string of words that were quite distinct: “a different sort of -Selenite altogether, who appears to be directing the—” The writing -became a mere hasty confusion again. - -“They have larger brain cases—much larger, and slenderer bodies, and -very short legs. They make gentle noises, and move with organized -deliberation... - -“And though I am wounded and helpless here, their appearance still -gives me hope.” That was like Cavor. “They have not shot at me or -attempted... injury. I intend—” - -Then came the sudden streak of the pencil across the paper, and on the -back and edges—blood! - -And as I stood there stupid, and perplexed, with this dumbfounding -relic in my hand, something very soft and light and chill touched my -hand for a moment and ceased to be, and then a thing, a little white -speck, drifted athwart a shadow. It was a tiny snowflake, the first -snowflake, the herald of the night. - -I looked up with a start, and the sky had darkened almost to blackness, -and was thick with a gathering multitude of coldly watchful stars. I -looked eastward, and the light of that shrivelled world was touched -with sombre bronze; westward, and the sun robbed now by a thickening -white mist of half its heat and splendour, was touching the crater rim, -was sinking out of sight, and all the shrubs and jagged and tumbled -rocks stood out against it in a bristling disorder of black shapes. -Into the great lake of darkness westward, a vast wreath of mist was -sinking. A cold wind set all the crater shivering. Suddenly, for a -moment, I was in a puff of falling snow, and all the world about me -grey and dim. - -And then it was I heard, not loud and penetrating as at first, but -faint and dim like a dying voice, that tolling, that same tolling that -had welcomed the coming of the day: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... - -It echoed about the crater, it seemed to throb with the throbbing of -the greater stars, the blood-red crescent of the sun’s disc sank as it -tolled out: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... - -What had happened to Cavor? All through that tolling I stood there -stupidly, and at last the tolling ceased. - -And suddenly the open mouth of the tunnel down below there, shut like -an eye and vanished out of sight. - -Then indeed was I alone. - -Over me, around me, closing in on me, embracing me ever nearer, was the -Eternal; that which was before the beginning, and that which triumphs -over the end; that enormous void in which all light and life and being -is but the thin and vanishing splendour of a falling star, the cold, -the stillness, the silence—the infinite and final Night of space. - -The sense of solitude and desolation became the sense of an -overwhelming presence that stooped towards me, that almost touched me. - -“No,” I cried. “_No!_ Not yet! not yet! Wait! Wait! Oh, wait!” My voice -went up to a shriek. I flung the crumpled paper from me, scrambled back -to the crest to take my bearings, and then, with all the will that was -in me, leapt out towards the mark I had left, dim and distant now in -the very margin of the shadow. - -Leap, leap, leap, and each leap was seven ages. - -Before me the pale serpent-girdled section of the sun sank and sank, -and the advancing shadow swept to seize the sphere before I could reach -it. I was two miles away, a hundred leaps or more, and the air about me -was thinning out as it thins under an air-pump, and the cold was -gripping at my joints. But had I died, I should have died leaping. -Once, and then again my foot slipped on the gathering snow as I leapt -and shortened my leap; once I fell short into bushes that crashed and -smashed into dusty chips and nothingness, and once I stumbled as I -dropped and rolled head over heels into a gully, and rose bruised and -bleeding and confused as to my direction. - -But such incidents were as nothing to the intervals, those awful pauses -when one drifted through the air towards that pouring tide of night. My -breathing made a piping noise, and it was as though knives were -whirling in my lungs. My heart seemed to beat against the top of my -brain. “Shall I reach it? O Heaven! Shall I reach it?” - -My whole being became anguish. - -“Lie down!” screamed my pain and despair; “lie down!” - -The nearer I struggled, the more awfully remote it seemed. I was numb, -I stumbled, I bruised and cut myself and did not bleed. - -It was in sight. - -I fell on all fours, and my lungs whooped. - -I crawled. The frost gathered on my lips, icicles hung from my -moustache, I was white with the freezing atmosphere. - -I was a dozen yards from it. My eyes had become dim. “Lie down!” -screamed despair; “lie down!” - -I touched it, and halted. “Too late!” screamed despair; “lie down!” - -I fought stiffly with it. I was on the manhole lip, a stupefied, -half-dead being. The snow was all about me. I pulled myself in. There -lurked within a little warmer air. - -The snowflakes—the airflakes—danced in about me, as I tried with -chilling hands to thrust the valve in and spun it tight and hard. I -sobbed. “I will,” I chattered in my teeth. And then, with fingers that -quivered and felt brittle, I turned to the shutter studs. - -As I fumbled with the switches—for I had never controlled them before—I -could see dimly through the steaming glass the blazing red streamers of -the sinking sun, dancing and flickering through the snowstorm, and the -black forms of the scrub thickening and bending and breaking beneath -the accumulating snow. Thicker whirled the snow and thicker, black -against the light. What if even now the switches overcame me? Then -something clicked under my hands, and in an instant that last vision of -the moon world was hidden from my eyes. I was in the silence and -darkness of the inter-planetary sphere. - - - - -XX. -Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space - - -It was almost as though I had been killed. Indeed, I could imagine a -man suddenly and violently killed would feel very much as I did. One -moment, a passion of agonising existence and fear; the next, darkness -and stillness, neither light nor life nor sun, moon nor stars, the -blank infinite. Although the thing was done by my own act, although I -had already tasted this very of effect in Cavor’s company, I felt -astonished, dumbfounded, and overwhelmed. I seemed to be borne upward -into an enormous darkness. My fingers floated off the studs, I hung as -if I were annihilated, and at last very softly and gently I came -against the bale and the golden chain, and the crowbars that had -drifted to the middle of the sphere. - -I do not know how long that drifting took. In the sphere of course, -even more than on the moon, one’s earthly time sense was ineffectual. -At the touch of the bale it was as if I had awakened from a dreamless -sleep. I immediately perceived that if I wanted to keep awake and alive -I must get a light or open a window, so as to get a grip of something -with my eyes. And besides, I was cold. I kicked off from the bale, -therefore, clawed on to the thin cords within the glass, crawled along -until I got to the manhole rim, and so got my bearings for the light -and blind studs, took a shove off, and flying once round the bale, and -getting a scare from something big and flimsy that was drifting loose, -I got my hand on the cord quite close to the studs, and reached them. I -lit the little lamp first of all to see what it was I had collided -with, and discovered that old copy of _Lloyd’s News_ had slipped its -moorings, and was adrift in the void. That brought me out of the -infinite to my own proper dimensions again. It made me laugh and pant -for a time, and suggested the idea of a little oxygen from one of the -cylinders. After that I lit the heater until I felt warm, and then I -took food. Then I set to work in a very gingerly fashion on the -Cavorite blinds, to see if I could guess by any means how the sphere -was travelling. - -The first blind I opened I shut at once, and hung for a time flattened -and blinded by the sunlight that had hit me. After thinking a little I -started upon the windows at right angles to this one, and got the huge -crescent moon and the little crescent earth behind it, the second time. -I was amazed to find how far I was from the moon. I had reckoned that -not only should I have little or none of the “kick-off” that the -earth’s atmosphere had given us at our start, but that the tangential -“fly off” of the moon’s spin would be at least twenty-eight times less -than the earth’s. I had expected to discover myself hanging over our -crater, and on the edge of the night, but all that was now only a part -of the outline of the white crescent that filled the sky. And Cavor—? - -He was already infinitesimal. - -I tried to imagine what could have happened to him. But at that time I -could think of nothing but death. I seemed to see him, bent and smashed -at the foot of some interminably high cascade of blue. And all about -him the stupid insects stared... - -Under the inspiring touch of the drifting newspaper I became practical -again for a while. It was quite clear to me that what I had to do was -to get back to earth, but as far as I could see I was drifting away -from it. Whatever had happened to Cavor, even if he was still alive, -which seemed to me incredible after that blood-stained scrap, I was -powerless to help him. There he was, living or dead behind the mantle -of that rayless night, and there he must remain at least until I could -summon our fellow men to his assistance. Should I do that? Something of -the sort I had in my mind; to come back to earth if it were possible, -and then as maturer consideration might determine, either to show and -explain the sphere to a few discreet persons, and act with them, or -else to keep my secret, sell my gold, obtain weapons, provisions, and -an assistant, and return with these advantages to deal on equal terms -with the flimsy people of the moon, to rescue Cavor, if that were still -possible, and at any rate to procure a sufficient supply of gold to -place my subsequent proceedings on a firmer basis. But that was hoping -far; I had first to get back. - -I set myself to decide just exactly how the return to earth could be -contrived. As I struggled with that problem I ceased to worry about -what I should do when I got there. At last my only care was to get -back. - -I puzzled out at last that my best chance would be to drop back towards -the moon as near as I dared in order to gather velocity, then to shut -my windows, and fly behind it, and when I was past to open my earthward -windows, and so get off at a good pace homeward. But whether I should -ever reach the earth by that device, or whether I might not simply find -myself spinning about it in some hyperbolic or parabolic curve or -other, I could not tell. Later I had a happy inspiration, and by -opening certain windows to the moon, which had appeared in the sky in -front of the earth, I turned my course aside so as to head off the -earth, which it had become evident to me I must pass behind without -some such expedient. I did a very great deal of complicated thinking -over these problems—for I am no mathematician—and in the end I am -certain it was much more my good luck than my reasoning that enabled me -to hit the earth. Had I known then, as I know now, the mathematical -chances there were against me, I doubt if I should have troubled even -to touch the studs to make any attempt. And having puzzled out what I -considered to be the thing to do, I opened all my moonward windows, and -squatted down—the effort lifted me for a time some feet or so into the -air, and I hung there in the oddest way—and waited for the crescent to -get bigger and bigger until I felt I was near enough for safety. Then I -would shut the windows, fly past the moon with the velocity I had got -from it—if I did not smash upon it—and so go on towards the earth. - -And that is what I did. - -At last I felt my moonward start was sufficient. I shut out the sight -of the moon from my eyes, and in a state of mind that was, I now -recall, incredibly free from anxiety or any distressful quality, I sat -down to begin a vigil in that little speck of matter in infinite space -that would last until I should strike the earth. The heater had made -the sphere tolerably warm, the air had been refreshed by the oxygen, -and except for that faint congestion of the head that was always with -me while I was away from earth, I felt entire physical comfort. I had -extinguished the light again, lest it should fail me in the end; I was -in darkness, save for the earthshine and the glitter of the stars below -me. Everything was so absolutely silent and still that I might indeed -have been the only being in the universe, and yet, strangely enough, I -had no more feeling of loneliness or fear than if I had been lying in -bed on earth. Now, this seems all the stranger to me, since during my -last hours in that crater of the moon, the sense of my utter loneliness -had been an agony.... - -Incredible as it will seem, this interval of time that I spent in space -has no sort of proportion to any other interval of time in my life. -Sometimes it seemed as though I sat through immeasurable eternities -like some god upon a lotus leaf, and again as though there was a -momentary pause as I leapt from moon to earth. In truth, it was -altogether some weeks of earthly time. But I had done with care and -anxiety, hunger or fear, for that space. I floated, thinking with a -strange breadth and freedom of all that we had undergone, and of all my -life and motives, and the secret issues of my being. I seemed to myself -to have grown greater and greater, to have lost all sense of movement; -to be floating amidst the stars, and always the sense of earth’s -littleness and the infinite littleness of my life upon it, was implicit -in my thoughts. - -I can’t profess to explain the things that happened in my mind. No -doubt they could all be traced directly or indirectly to the curious -physical conditions under which I was living. I set them down here just -for what they are worth, and without any comment. The most prominent -quality of it was a pervading doubt of my own identity. I became, if I -may so express it, dissociate from Bedford; I looked down on Bedford as -a trivial, incidental thing with which I chanced to be connected. I saw -Bedford in many relations—as an ass or as a poor beast, where I had -hitherto been inclined to regard him with a quiet pride as a very -spirited or rather forcible person. I saw him not only as an ass, but -as the son of many generations of asses. I reviewed his school-days and -his early manhood, and his first encounter with love, very much as one -might review the proceedings of an ant in the sand. Something of that -period of lucidity I regret still hangs about me, and I doubt if I -shall ever recover the full-bodied self satisfaction of my early days. -But at the time the thing was not in the least painful, because I had -that extraordinary persuasion that, as a matter of fact, I was no more -Bedford than I was any one else, but only a mind floating in the still -serenity of space. Why should I be disturbed about this Bedford’s -shortcomings? I was not responsible for him or them. - -For a time I struggled against this really very grotesque delusion. I -tried to summon the memory of vivid moments, of tender or intense -emotions to my assistance; I felt that if I could recall one genuine -twinge of feeling the growing severance would be stopped. But I could -not do it. I saw Bedford rushing down Chancery Lane, hat on the back of -his head, coat tails flying out, _en route_ for his public examination. -I saw him dodging and bumping against, and even saluting, other similar -little creatures in that swarming gutter of people. Me? I saw Bedford -that same evening in the sitting-room of a certain lady, and his hat -was on the table beside him, and it wanted brushing badly, and he was -in tears. Me? I saw him with that lady in various attitudes and -emotions—I never felt so detached before.... I saw him hurrying off to -Lympne to write a play, and accosting Cavor, and in his shirt sleeves -working at the sphere, and walking out to Canterbury because he was -afraid to come! Me? I did not believe it. - -I still reasoned that all this was hallucination due to my solitude, -and the fact that I had lost all weight and sense of resistance. I -endeavoured to recover that sense by banging myself about the sphere, -by pinching my hands and clasping them together. Among other things, I -lit the light, captured that torn copy of _Lloyd’s_, and read those -convincingly realistic advertisements about the Cutaway bicycle, and -the gentleman of private means, and the lady in distress who was -selling those “forks and spoons.” There was no doubt they existed -surely enough, and, said I, “This is your world, and you are Bedford, -and you are going back to live among things like that for all the rest -of your life.” But the doubts within me could still argue: “It is not -you that is reading, it is Bedford, but you are not Bedford, you know. -That’s just where the mistake comes in.” - -“Confound it!” I cried; “and if I am not Bedford, what am I?” - -But in that direction no light was forthcoming, though the strangest -fancies came drifting into my brain, queer remote suspicions, like -shadows seen from away. Do you know, I had a sort of idea that really I -was something quite outside not only the world, but all worlds, and out -of space and time, and that this poor Bedford was just a peephole -through which I looked at life? ... - -Bedford! However I disavowed him, there I was most certainly bound up -with him, and I knew that wherever or whatever I might be, I must needs -feel the stress of his desires, and sympathise with all his joys and -sorrows until his life should end. And with the dying of Bedford—what -then? ... - -Enough of this remarkable phase of my experiences! I tell it here -simply to show how one’s isolation and departure from this planet -touched not only the functions and feeling of every organ of the body, -but indeed also the very fabric of the mind, with strange and -unanticipated disturbances. All through the major portion of that vast -space journey I hung thinking of such immaterial things as these, hung -dissociated and apathetic, a cloudy megalomaniac, as it were, amidst -the stars and planets in the void of space; and not only the world to -which I was returning, but the blue-lit caverns of the Selenites, their -helmet faces, their gigantic and wonderful machines, and the fate of -Cavor, dragged helpless into that world, seemed infinitely minute and -altogether trivial things to me. - -Until at last I began to feel the pull of the earth upon my being, -drawing me back again to the life that is real for men. And then, -indeed, it grew clearer and clearer to me that I was quite certainly -Bedford after all, and returning after amazing adventures to this world -of ours, and with a life that I was very likely to lose in this return. -I set myself to puzzle out the conditions under which I must fall to -earth. - - - - -XXI. -Mr. Bedford at Littlestone - - -My line of flight was about parallel with the surface as I came into -the upper air. The temperature of the sphere began to rise forthwith. I -knew it behoved me to drop at once. Far below me, in a darkling -twilight, stretched a great expanse of sea. I opened every window I -could, and fell—out of sunshine into evening, and out of evening into -night. Vaster grew the earth and vaster, swallowing up the stars, and -the silvery translucent starlit veil of cloud it wore spread out to -catch me. At last the world seemed no longer a sphere but flat, and -then concave. It was no longer a planet in the sky, but the world of -Man. I shut all but an inch or so of earthward window, and dropped with -a slackening velocity. The broadening water, now so near that I could -see the dark glitter of the waves, rushed up to meet me. The sphere -became very hot. I snapped the last strip of window, and sat scowling -and biting my knuckles, waiting for the impact.... - -The sphere hit the water with a huge splash: it must have sent it -fathoms high. At the splash I flung the Cavorite shutters open. Down I -went, but slower and slower, and then I felt the sphere pressing -against my feet, and so drove up again as a bubble drives. And at the -last I was floating and rocking upon the surface of the sea, and my -journey in space was at an end. - -The night was dark and overcast. Two yellow pinpoints far away showed -the passing of a ship, and nearer was a red glare that came and went. -Had not the electricity of my glow-lamp exhausted itself, I could have -got picked up that night. In spite of the inordinate fatigue I was -beginning to feel, I was excited now, and for a time hopeful, in a -feverish, impatient way, that so my travelling might end. - -But at last I ceased to move about, and sat, wrists on knees, staring -at a distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My -excitement passed. I realised I had yet to spend another night at least -in the sphere. I perceived myself infinitely heavy and fatigued. And so -I fell asleep. - -A change in my rhythmic motion awakened me. I peered through the -refracting glass, and saw that I had come aground upon a huge shallow -of sand. Far away I seemed to see houses and trees, and seaward a -curved, vague distortion of a ship hung between sea and sky. - -I stood up and staggered. My one desire was to emerge. The manhole was -upward, and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly I opened the manhole. At -last the air was singing in again as once it had sung out. But this -time I did not wait until the pressure was adjusted. In another moment -I had the weight of the window on my hands, and I was open, wide open, -to the old familiar sky of earth. - -The air hit me on the chest so that I gasped. I dropped the glass -screw. I cried out, put my hands to my chest, and sat down. For a time -I was in pain. Then I took deep breaths. At last I could rise and move -about again. - -I tried to thrust my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled -over. It was as though something had lugged my head down directly it -emerged. I ducked back sharply, or I should have been pinned face under -water. After some wriggling and shoving I managed to crawl out upon -sand, over which the retreating waves still came and went. - -I did not attempt to stand up. It seemed to me that my body must be -suddenly changed to lead. Mother Earth had her grip on me now—no -Cavorite intervening. I sat down heedless of the water that came over -my feet. - -It was dawn, a grey dawn, rather overcast but showing here and there a -long patch of greenish grey. Some way out a ship was lying at anchor, a -pale silhouette of a ship with one yellow light. The water came -rippling in in long shallow waves. Away to the right curved the land, a -shingle bank with little hovels, and at last a lighthouse, a sailing -mark and a point. Inland stretched a space of level sand, broken here -and there by pools of water, and ending a mile away perhaps in a low -shore of scrub. To the north-east some isolated watering-place was -visible, a row of gaunt lodging-houses, the tallest things that I could -see on earth, dull dabs against the brightening sky. What strange men -can have reared these vertical piles in such an amplitude of space I do -not know. There they are, like pieces of Brighton lost in the waste. - -For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. At last I -struggled to rise. It made me feel that I was lifting a weight. I stood -up. - -I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since our starvation -in the crater I thought of earthly food. “Bacon,” I whispered, “eggs. -Good toast and good coffee.... And how the devil am I going to get all -this stuff to Lympne?” I wondered where I was. It was an east shore -anyhow, and I had seen Europe before I dropped. - -I heard footsteps crunching in the sand, and a little round-faced, -friendly-looking man in flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped about -his shoulders, and his bathing dress over his arm, appeared up the -beach. I knew instantly that I must be in England. He was staring most -intently at the sphere and me. He advanced staring. I dare say I looked -a ferocious savage enough—dirty, unkempt, to an indescribable degree; -but it did not occur to me at the time. He stopped at a distance of -twenty yards. “Hul-lo, my man!” he said doubtfully. - -“Hullo yourself!” said I. - -He advanced, reassured by that. “What on earth is that thing?” he -asked. - -“Can you tell me where I am?” I asked. - -“That’s Littlestone,” he said, pointing to the houses; “and that’s -Dungeness! Have you just landed? What’s that thing you’ve got? Some -sort of machine?” - -“Yes.” - -“Have you floated ashore? Have you been wrecked or something? What is -it?” - -I meditated swiftly. I made an estimate of the little man’s appearance -as he drew nearer. “By Jove!” he said, “you’ve had a time of it! I -thought you— Well— Where were you cast away? Is that thing a sort of -floating thing for saving life?” - -I decided to take that line for the present. I made a few vague -affirmatives. “I want help,” I said hoarsely. “I want to get some stuff -up the beach—stuff I can’t very well leave about.” I became aware of -three other pleasant-looking young men with towels, blazers, and straw -hats, coming down the sands towards me. Evidently the early bathing -section of this Littlestone. - -“Help!” said the young man: “rather!” He became vaguely active. “What -particularly do you want done?” He turned round and gesticulated. The -three young men accelerated their pace. In a minute they were about me, -plying me with questions I was indisposed to answer. “I’ll tell all -that later,” I said. “I’m dead beat. I’m a rag.” - -“Come up to the hotel,” said the foremost little man. “We’ll look after -that thing there.” - -I hesitated. “I can’t,” I said. “In that sphere there’s two big bars of -gold.” - -They looked incredulously at one another, then at me with a new -inquiry. I went to the sphere, stooped, crept in, and presently they -had the Selenites’ crowbars and the broken chain before them. If I had -not been so horribly fagged I could have laughed at them. It was like -kittens round a beetle. They didn’t know what to do with the stuff. The -fat little man stooped and lifted the end of one of the bars, and then -dropped it with a grunt. Then they all did. - -“It’s lead, or gold!” said one. - -“Oh, it’s _gold!_” said another. - -“Gold, right enough,” said the third. - -Then they all stared at me, and then they all stared at the ship lying -at anchor. - -“I say!” cried the little man. “But where did you get that?” - -I was too tired to keep up a lie. “I got it in the moon.” - -I saw them stare at one another. - -“Look here!” said I, “I’m not going to argue now. Help me carry these -lumps of gold up to the hotel—I guess, with rests, two of you can -manage one, and I’ll trail this chain thing—and I’ll tell you more when -I’ve had some food.” - -“And how about that thing?” - -“It won’t hurt there,” I said. “Anyhow—confound it!—it must stop there -now. If the tide comes up, it will float all right.” - -And in a state of enormous wonderment, these young men most obediently -hoisted my treasures on their shoulders, and with limbs that felt like -lead I headed a sort of procession towards that distant fragment of -“sea-front.” Half-way there we were reinforced by two awe-stricken -little girls with spades, and later a lean little boy, with a -penetrating sniff, appeared. He was, I remember, wheeling a bicycle, -and he accompanied us at a distance of about a hundred yards on our -right flank, and then I suppose, gave us up as uninteresting, mounted -his bicycle and rode off over the level sands in the direction of the -sphere. - -I glanced back after him. - -“_He_ won’t touch it,” said the stout young man reassuringly, and I was -only too willing to be reassured. - -At first something of the grey of the morning was in my mind, but -presently the sun disengaged itself from the level clouds of the -horizon and lit the world, and turned the leaden sea to glittering -waters. My spirits rose. A sense of the vast importance of the things I -had done and had yet to do came with the sunlight into my mind. I -laughed aloud as the foremost man staggered under my gold. When indeed -I took my place in the world, how amazed the world would be! - -If it had not been for my inordinate fatigue, the landlord of the -Littlestone hotel would have been amusing, as he hesitated between my -gold and my respectable company on the one and my filthy appearance on -the other. But at last I found myself in a terrestrial bathroom once -more with warm water to wash myself with, and a change of raiment, -preposterously small indeed, but anyhow clean, that the genial little -man had lent me. He lent me a razor too, but I could not screw up my -resolution to attack even the outposts of the bristling beard that -covered my face. - -I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a sort of languid -appetite—an appetite many weeks old and very decrepit—and stirred -myself to answer the questions of the four young men. And I told them -the truth. - -“Well,” said I, “as you press me—I got it in the moon.” - -“The moon?” - -“Yes, the moon in the sky.” - -“But how do you mean?” - -“What I say, confound it!” - -“Then you have just come from the moon?” - -“Exactly! through space—in that ball.” And I took a delicious mouthful -of egg. I made a private note that when I went back to the moon I would -take a box of eggs. - -I could see clearly that they did not believe one word of what I told -them, but evidently they considered me the most respectable liar they -had ever met. They glanced at one another, and then concentrated the -fire of their eyes on me. I fancy they expected a clue to me in the way -I helped myself to salt. They seemed to find something significant in -my peppering my egg. These strangely shaped masses of gold they had -staggered under held their minds. There the lumps lay in front of me, -each worth thousands of pounds, and as impossible for any one to steal -as a house or a piece of land. As I looked at their curious faces over -my coffee-cup, I realised something of the enormous wilderness of -explanations into which I should have to wander to render myself -comprehensible again. - -“You don’t _really_ mean—” began the youngest young man, in the tone of -one who speaks to an obstinate child. - -“Just pass me that toast-rack,” I said, and shut him up completely. - -“But look here, I say,” began one of the others. “We’re not going to -believe that, you know.” - -“Ah, well,” said I, and shrugged my shoulders. - -“He doesn’t want to tell us,” said the youngest young man in a stage -aside; and then, with an appearance of great _sang-froid_, “You don’t -mind if I take a cigarette?” - -I waved him a cordial assent, and proceeded with my breakfast. Two of -the others went and looked out of the farther window and talked -inaudibly. I was struck by a thought. “The tide,” I said, “is running -out?” - -There was a pause, a doubt who should answer me. - -“It’s near the ebb,” said the fat little man. - -“Well, anyhow,” I said, “it won’t float far.” - -I decapitated my third egg, and began a little speech. “Look here,” I -said. “Please don’t imagine I’m surly or telling you uncivil lies, or -anything of that sort. I’m forced almost, to be a little short and -mysterious. I can quite understand this is as queer as it can be, and -that your imaginations must be going it. I can assure you, you’re in at -a memorable time. But I can’t make it clear to you now—it’s impossible. -I give you my word of honour I’ve come from the moon, and that’s all I -can tell you.... All the same, I’m tremendously obliged to you, you -know, tremendously. I hope that my manner hasn’t in any way given you -offence.” - -“Oh, not in the least!” said the youngest young man affably. “We can -quite understand,” and staring hard at me all the time, he heeled his -chair back until it very nearly upset, and recovered with some -exertion. “Not a bit of it,” said the fat young man. - -“Don’t you imagine _that!_” and they all got up and dispersed, and -walked about and lit cigarettes, and generally tried to show they were -perfectly amiable and disengaged, and entirely free from the slightest -curiosity about me and the sphere. “I’m going to keep an eye on that -ship out there all the same,” I heard one of them remarking in an -undertone. If only they could have forced themselves to it, they would, -I believe, even have gone out and left me. I went on with my third egg. - -“The weather,” the fat little man remarked presently, “has been -immense, has it not? I don’t know _when_ we have had such a summer.” - -Phoo-whizz! Like a tremendous rocket! - -And somewhere a window was broken.... - -“What’s that?” said I. - -“It isn’t—?” cried the little man, and rushed to the corner window. - -All the others rushed to the window likewise. I sat staring at them. - -Suddenly I leapt up, knocked over my third egg, rushed for the window -also. I had just thought of something. “Nothing to be seen there,” -cried the little man, rushing for the door. - -“It’s that boy!” I cried, bawling in hoarse fury; “it’s that accursed -boy!” and turning about I pushed the waiter aside—he was just bringing -me some more toast—and rushed violently out of the room and down and -out upon the queer little esplanade in front of the hotel. - -The sea, which had been smooth, was rough now with hurrying cat’s-paws, -and all about where the sphere had been was tumbled water like the wake -of a ship. Above, a little puff of cloud whirled like dispersing smoke, -and the three or four people on the beach were staring up with -interrogative faces towards the point of that unexpected report. And -that was all! Boots and waiter and the four young men in blazers came -rushing out behind me. Shouts came from windows and doors, and all -sorts of worrying people came into sight—agape. - -For a time I stood there, too overwhelmed by this new development to -think of the people. - -At first I was too stunned to see the thing as any definite disaster—I -was just stunned, as a man is by some accidental violent blow. It is -only afterwards he begins to appreciate his specific injury. - -“Good Lord!” - -I felt as though somebody was pouring funk out of a can down the back -of my neck. My legs became feeble. I had got the first intimation of -what the disaster meant for me. There was that confounded boy—sky high! -I was utterly left. There was the gold in the coffee-room—my only -possession on earth. How would it all work out? The general effect was -of a gigantic unmanageable confusion. - -“I say,” said the voice of the little man behind. “I _say_, you know.” - -I wheeled about, and there were twenty or thirty people, a sort of -irregular investment of people, all bombarding me with dumb -interrogation, with infinite doubt and suspicion. I felt the compulsion -of their eyes intolerably. I groaned aloud. - -“I _can’t_,” I shouted. “I tell you I can’t! I’m not equal to it! You -must puzzle and—and be damned to you!” - -I gesticulated convulsively. He receded a step as though I had -threatened him. I made a bolt through them into the hotel. I charged -back into the coffee-room, rang the bell furiously. I gripped the -waiter as he entered. “D’ye hear?” I shouted. “Get help and carry these -bars up to my room right away.” - -He failed to understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A -scared-looking little old man in a green apron appeared, and further -two of the young men in flannels. I made a dash at them and -commandeered their services. As soon as the gold was in my room I felt -free to quarrel. “Now get out,” I shouted; “all of you get out if you -don’t want to see a man go mad before your eyes!” And I helped the -waiter by the shoulder as he hesitated in the doorway. And then, as -soon as I had the door locked on them all, I tore off the little man’s -clothes again, shied them right and left, and got into bed forthwith. -And there I lay swearing and panting and cooling for a very long time. - -At last I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring up the round-eyed -waiter for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good -cigars. And these things being procured me, after an exasperating delay -that drove me several times to the bell, I locked the door again and -proceeded very deliberately to look the entire situation in the face. - -The net result of the great experiment presented itself as an absolute -failure. It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was an absolute -collapse, and this was the final disaster. There was nothing for it but -to save myself, and as much as I could in the way of prospects from our -_débâcle_. At one fatal crowning blow all my vague resolutions of -return and recovery had vanished. My intention of going back to the -moon, of getting a sphereful of gold, and afterwards of having a -fragment of Cavorite analysed and so recovering the great -secret—perhaps, finally, even of recovering Cavor’s body—all these -ideas vanished altogether. - -I was the sole survivor, and that was all. - -I think that going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had -in an emergency. I really believe I should either have got loose-headed -or done some indiscreet thing. But there, locked in and secure from all -interruptions, I could think out the position in all its bearings and -make my arrangements at leisure. - -Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He -had crawled into the sphere, meddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite -windows, and gone up. It was highly improbable he had screwed the -manhole stopper, and, even if he had, the chances were a thousand to -one against his getting back. It was fairly evident that he would -gravitate with my bales to somewhere near the middle of the sphere and -remain there, and so cease to be a legitimate terrestrial interest, -however remarkable he might seem to the inhabitants of some remote -quarter of space. I very speedily convinced myself on that point. And -as for any responsibility I might have in the matter, the more I -reflected upon that, the clearer it became that if only I kept quiet -about things, I need not trouble myself about that. If I was faced by -sorrowing parents demanding their lost boy, I had merely to demand my -lost sphere—or ask them what they meant. At first I had had a vision of -weeping parents and guardians, and all sorts of complications; but now -I saw that I simply had to keep my mouth shut, and nothing in that way -could arise. And, indeed, the more I lay and smoked and thought, the -more evident became the wisdom of impenetrability. - -It is within the right of every British citizen, provided he does not -commit damage nor indecorum, to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, -and as ragged and filthy as he pleases, and with whatever amount of -virgin gold he sees fit to encumber himself, and no one has any right -at all to hinder and detain him in this procedure. I formulated that at -last to myself, and repeated it over as a sort of private Magna Charta -of my liberty. - -Once I had put that issue on one side, I could take up and consider in -an equable manner certain considerations I had scarcely dared to think -of before, namely, those arising out of the circumstances of my -bankruptcy. But now, looking at this matter calmly and at leisure, I -could see that if only I suppressed my identity by a temporary -assumption of some less well-known name, and if I retained the two -months’ beard that had grown upon me, the risks of any annoyance from -the spiteful creditor to whom I have already alluded became very small -indeed. From that to a definite course of rational worldly action was -plain sailing. It was all amazingly petty, no doubt, but what was there -remaining for me to do? - -Whatever I did I was resolved that I would keep myself level and right -side up. - -I ordered up writing materials, and addressed a letter to the New -Romney Bank—the nearest, the waiter informed me—telling the manager I -wished to open an account with him, and requesting him to send two -trustworthy persons properly authenticated in a cab with a good horse -to fetch some hundredweight of gold with which I happened to be -encumbered. I signed the letter “Blake,” which seemed to me to be a -thoroughly respectable sort of name. This done, I got a Folkstone Blue -Book, picked out an outfitter, and asked him to send a cutter to -measure me for a dark tweed suit, ordering at the same time a valise, -dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, hat (to fit), and so forth; and from -a watchmaker I also ordered a watch. And these letters being -despatched, I had up as good a lunch as the hotel could give, and then -lay smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as possible, until in -accordance with my instructions two duly authenticated clerks came from -the bank and weighed and took away my gold. After which I pulled the -clothes over my ears in order to drown any knocking, and went very -comfortably to sleep. - -I went to sleep. No doubt it was a prosaic thing for the first man back -from the moon to do, and I can imagine that the young and imaginative -reader will find my behaviour disappointing. But I was horribly -fatigued and bothered, and, confound it! what else was there to do? -There certainly was not the remotest chance of my being believed, if I -had told my story then, and it would certainly have subjected me to -intolerable annoyances. I went to sleep. When at last I woke up again I -was ready to face the world as I have always been accustomed to face it -since I came to years of discretion. And so I got away to Italy, and -there it is I am writing this story. If the world will not have it as -fact, then the world may take it as fiction. It is no concern of mine. - -And now that the account is finished, I am amazed to think how -completely this adventure is gone and done with. Everybody believes -that Cavor was a not very brilliant scientific experimenter who blew up -his house and himself at Lympne, and they explain the bang that -followed my arrival at Littlestone by a reference to the experiments -with explosives that are going on continually at the government -establishment of Lydd, two miles away. I must confess that hitherto I -have not acknowledged my share in the disappearance of Master Tommy -Simmons, which was that little boy’s name. That, perhaps, may prove a -difficult item of corroboration to explain away. They account for my -appearance in rags with two bars of indisputable gold upon the -Littlestone beach in various ingenious ways—it doesn’t worry me what -they think of me. They say I have strung all these things together to -avoid being questioned too closely as to the source of my wealth. I -would like to see the man who could invent a story that would hold -together like this one. Well, they must take it as fiction—there it is. - -I have told my story—and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries -of this terrestrial life again. Even if one has been to the moon, one -has still to earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi, on the -scenario of that play I sketched before Cavor came walking into my -world, and I am trying to piece my life together as it was before ever -I saw him. I must confess that I find it hard to keep my mind on the -play when the moonshine comes into my room. It is full moon here, and -last night I was out on the pergola for hours, staring away at the -shining blankness that hides so much. Imagine it! tables and chairs, -and trestles and bars of gold! Confound it!—if only one could hit on -that Cavorite again! But a thing like that doesn’t come twice in a -life. Here I am, a little better off than I was at Lympne, and that is -all. And Cavor has committed suicide in a more elaborate way than any -human being ever did before. So the story closes as finally and -completely as a dream. It fits in so little with all the other things -of life, so much of it is so utterly remote from all human experience, -the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and these weightless times, -that indeed there are moments when, in spite of my moon gold, I do more -than half believe myself that the whole thing was a dream.... - - - - -XXII. -The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee - - -When I had finished my account of my return to the earth at -Littlestone, I wrote, “The End,” made a flourish, and threw my pen -aside, fully believing that the whole story of the First Men in the -Moon was done. Not only had I done this, but I had placed my manuscript -in the hands of a literary agent, had permitted it to be sold, had seen -the greater portion of it appear in the _Strand Magazine_, and was -setting to work again upon the scenario of the play I had commenced at -Lympne before I realised that the end was not yet. And then, following -me from Amalfi to Algiers, there reached me (it is now about six months -ago) one of the most astounding communications I have ever been fated -to receive. Briefly, it informed me that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a Dutch -electrician, who has been experimenting with certain apparatus akin to -the apparatus used by Mr. Tesla in America, in the hope of discovering -some method of communication with Mars, was receiving day by day a -curiously fragmentary message in English, which was indisputably -emanating from Mr. Cavor in the moon. - -At first I thought the thing was an elaborate practical joke by some -one who had seen the manuscript of my narrative. I answered Mr. -Wendigee jestingly, but he replied in a manner that put such suspicion -altogether aside, and in a state of inconceivable excitement I hurried -from Algiers to the little observatory upon the Monte Rosa in which he -was working. In the presence of his record and his appliances—and above -all of the messages from Cavor that were coming to hand—my lingering -doubts vanished. I decided at once to accept a proposal he made to me -to remain with him, assisting him to take down the record from day to -day, and endeavouring with him to send a message back to the moon. -Cavor, we learnt, was not only alive, but free, in the midst of an -almost inconceivable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, -in the blue darkness of the lunar caves. He was lamed, it seemed, but -otherwise in quite good health—in better health, he distinctly said, -than he usually enjoyed on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left -no bad effects. But curiously enough he seemed to be labouring under a -conviction that I was either dead in the moon crater or lost in the -deep of space. - -His message began to be received by Mr. Wendigee when that gentleman -was engaged in quite a different investigation. The reader will no -doubt recall the little excitement that began the century, arising out -of an announcement by Mr. Nikola Tesla, the American electrical -celebrity, that he had received a message from Mars. His announcement -renewed attention to a fact that had long been familiar to scientific -people, namely: that from some unknown source in space, waves of -electromagnetic disturbance, entirely similar to those used by Signor -Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, are constantly reaching the earth. -Besides Tesla quite a number of other observers have been engaged in -perfecting apparatus for receiving and recording these vibrations, -though few would go so far as to consider them actual messages from -some extraterrestrial sender. Among that few, however, we must -certainly count Mr. Wendigee. Ever since 1898 he had devoted himself -almost entirely to this subject, and being a man of ample means he had -erected an observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in a position -singularly adapted in every way for such observations. - -My scientific attainments, I must admit, are not great, but so far as -they enable me to judge, Mr. Wendigee’s contrivances for detecting and -recording any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space -are singularly original and ingenious. And by a happy combination of -circumstances they were set up and in operation about two months before -Cavor made his first attempt to call up the earth. Consequently we have -fragments of his communication even from the beginning. Unhappily, they -are only fragments, and the most momentous of all the things that he -had to tell humanity—the instructions, that is, for the making of -Cavorite, if, indeed, he ever transmitted them—have throbbed themselves -away unrecorded into space. We never succeeded in getting a response -back to Cavor. He was unable to tell, therefore, what we had received -or what we had missed; nor, indeed, did he certainly know that any one -on earth was really aware of his efforts to reach us. And the -persistence he displayed in sending eighteen long descriptions of lunar -affairs—as they would be if we had them complete—shows how much his -mind must have turned back towards his native planet since he left it -two years ago. - -You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been when he -discovered his record of electromagnetic disturbances interlaced by -Cavor’s straightforward English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild -journey moonward, and suddenly—this English out of the void! - -It is well the reader should understand the conditions under which it -would seem these messages were sent. Somewhere within the moon Cavor -certainly had access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical -apparatus, and it would seem he rigged up—perhaps furtively—a -transmitting arrangement of the Marconi type. This he was able to -operate at irregular intervals: sometimes for only half an hour or so, -sometimes for three or four hours at a stretch. At these times he -transmitted his earthward message, regardless of the fact that the -relative position of the moon and points upon the earth’s surface is -constantly altering. As a consequence of this and of the necessary -imperfections of our recording instruments his communication comes and -goes in our records in an extremely fitful manner; it becomes blurred; -it “fades out” in a mysterious and altogether exasperating way. And -added to this is the fact that he was not an expert operator; he had -partly forgotten, or never completely mastered, the code in general -use, and as he became fatigued he dropped words and misspelt in a -curious manner. - -Altogether we have probably lost quite half of the communications he -made, and much we have is damaged, broken, and partly effaced. In the -abstract that follows the reader must be prepared therefore for a -considerable amount of break, hiatus, and change of topic. Mr. Wendigee -and I are collaborating in a complete and annotated edition of the -Cavor record, which we hope to publish, together with a detailed -account of the instruments employed, beginning with the first volume in -January next. That will be the full and scientific report, of which -this is only the popular transcript. But here we give at least -sufficient to complete the story I have told, and to give the broad -outlines of the state of that other world so near, so akin, and yet so -dissimilar to our own. - - - - -XXIII. -An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor - - -The two earlier messages of Mr. Cavor may very well be reserved for -that larger volume. They simply tell, with greater brevity and with a -difference in several details that is interesting, but not of any vital -importance, the bare facts of the making of the sphere and our -departure from the world. Throughout, Cavor speaks of me as a man who -is dead, but with a curious change of temper as he approaches our -landing on the moon. “Poor Bedford,” he says of me, and “this poor -young man,” and he blames himself for inducing a young man, “by no -means well equipped for such adventures,” to leave a planet “on which -he was indisputably fitted to succeed” on so precarious a mission. I -think he underrates the part my energy and practical capacity played in -bringing about the realisation of his theoretical sphere. “We arrived,” -he says, with no more account of our passage through space than if we -had made a journey of common occurrence in a railway train. - -And then he becomes increasingly unfair to me. Unfair, indeed, to an -extent I should not have expected in a man trained in the search for -truth. Looking back over my previously written account of these things, -I must insist that I have been altogether juster to Cavor than he has -been to me. I have extenuated little and suppressed nothing. But his -account is:— - -“It speedily became apparent that the entire strangeness of our -circumstances and surroundings—great loss of weight, attenuated but -highly oxygenated air, consequent exaggeration of the results of -muscular effort, rapid development of weird plants from obscure spores, -lurid sky—was exciting my companion unduly. On the moon his character -seemed to deteriorate. He became impulsive, rash, and quarrelsome. In a -little while his folly in devouring some gigantic vesicles and his -consequent intoxication led to our capture by the Selenites—before we -had had the slightest opportunity of properly observing their ways....” - -(He says, you observe, nothing of his own concession to these same -“vesicles.”) - -And he goes on from that point to say that “We came to a difficult -passage with them, and Bedford mistaking certain gestures of -theirs”—pretty gestures they were!—“gave way to a panic violence. He -ran amuck, killed three, and perforce I had to flee with him after the -outrage. Subsequently we fought with a number who endeavoured to bar -our way, and slew seven or eight more. It says much for the tolerance -of these beings that on my recapture I was not instantly slain. We made -our way to the exterior and separated in the crater of our arrival, to -increase our chances of recovering our sphere. But presently I came -upon a body of Selenites, led by two who were curiously different, even -in form, from any of these we had seen hitherto, with larger heads and -smaller bodies, and much more elaborately wrapped about. And after -evading them for some time I fell into a crevasse, cut my head rather -badly, and displaced my patella, and, finding crawling very painful, -decided to surrender—if they would still permit me to do so. This they -did, and, perceiving my helpless condition, carried me with them again -into the moon. And of Bedford I have heard or seen nothing more, nor, -so far as I can gather, has any Selenite. Either the night overtook him -in the crater, or else, which is more probable, he found the sphere, -and, desiring to steal a march upon me, made off with it—only, I fear, -to find it uncontrollable, and to meet a more lingering fate in outer -space.” - -And with that Cavor dismisses me and goes on to more interesting -topics. I dislike the idea of seeming to use my position as his editor -to deflect his story in my own interest, but I am obliged to protest -here against the turn he gives these occurrences. He said nothing about -that gasping message on the blood-stained paper in which he told, or -attempted to tell, a very different story. The dignified self-surrender -is an altogether new view of the affair that has come to him, I must -insist, since he began to feel secure among the lunar people; and as -for the “stealing a march” conception, I am quite willing to let the -reader decide between us on what he has before him. I know I am not a -model man—I have made no pretence to be. But am I _that?_ - -However, that is the sum of my wrongs. From this point I can edit Cavor -with an untroubled mind, for he mentions me no more. - -It would seem the Selenites who had come upon him carried him to some -point in the interior down “a great shaft” by means of what he -describes as “a sort of balloon.” We gather from the rather confused -passage in which he describes this, and from a number of chance -allusions and hints in other and subsequent messages, that this “great -shaft” is one of an enormous system of artificial shafts that run, each -from what is called a lunar “crater,” downwards for very nearly a -hundred miles towards the central portion of our satellite. These -shafts communicate by transverse tunnels, they throw out abysmal -caverns and expand into great globular places; the whole of the moon’s -substance for a hundred miles inward, indeed, is a mere sponge of rock. -“Partly,” says Cavor, “this sponginess is natural, but very largely it -is due to the enormous industry of the Selenites in the past. The -enormous circular mounds of the excavated rock and earth it is that -form these great circles about the tunnels known to earthly astronomers -(misled by a false analogy) as volcanoes.” - -It was down this shaft they took him, in this “sort of balloon” he -speaks of, at first into an inky blackness and then into a region of -continually increasing phosphorescence. Cavor’s despatches show him to -be curiously regardless of detail for a scientific man, but we gather -that this light was due to the streams and cascades of water—“no doubt -containing some phosphorescent organism”—that flowed ever more -abundantly downward towards the Central Sea. And as he descended, he -says, “The Selenites also became luminous.” And at last far below him -he saw, as it were, a lake of heatless fire, the waters of the Central -Sea, glowing and eddying in strange perturbation, “like luminous blue -milk that is just on the boil.” - -“This Lunar Sea,” says Cavor, in a later passage, “is not a stagnant -ocean; a solar tide sends it in a perpetual flow around the lunar axis, -and strange storms and boilings and rushings of its waters occur, and -at times cold winds and thunderings that ascend out of it into the busy -ways of the great ant-hill above. It is only when the water is in -motion that it gives out light; in its rare seasons of calm it is -black. Commonly, when one sees it, its waters rise and fall in an oily -swell, and flakes and big rafts of shining, bubbly foam drift with the -sluggish, faintly glowing current. The Selenites navigate its cavernous -straits and lagoons in little shallow boats of a canoe-like shape; and -even before my journey to the galleries about the Grand Lunar, who is -Master of the Moon, I was permitted to make a brief excursion on its -waters. - -“The caverns and passages are naturally very tortuous. A large -proportion of these ways are known only to expert pilots among the -fishermen, and not infrequently Selenites are lost for ever in their -labyrinths. In their remoter recesses, I am told, strange creatures -lurk, some of them terrible and dangerous creatures that all the -science of the moon has been unable to exterminate. There is -particularly the Rapha, an inextricable mass of clutching tentacles -that one hacks to pieces only to multiply; and the Tzee, a darting -creature that is never seen, so subtly and suddenly does it slay...” - -He gives us a gleam of description. - -“I was reminded on this excursion of what I have read of the Mammoth -Caves; if only I had had a yellow flambeau instead of the pervading -blue light, and a solid-looking boatman with an oar instead of a -scuttle-faced Selenite working an engine at the back of the canoe, I -could have imagined I had suddenly got back to earth. The rocks about -us were very various, sometimes black, sometimes pale blue and veined, -and once they flashed and glittered as though we had come into a mine -of sapphires. And below one saw the ghostly phosphorescent fishes flash -and vanish in the hardly less phosphorescent deep. Then, presently, a -long ultra-marine vista down the turgid stream of one of the channels -of traffic, and a landing stage, and then, perhaps, a glimpse up the -enormous crowded shaft of one of the vertical ways. - -“In one great place heavy with glistening stalactites a number of boats -were fishing. We went alongside one of these and watched the long-armed -Selenites winding in a net. They were little, hunchbacked insects, with -very strong arms, short, bandy legs, and crinkled face-masks. As they -pulled at it that net seemed the heaviest thing I had come upon in the -moon; it was loaded with weights—no doubt of gold—and it took a long -time to draw, for in those waters the larger and more edible fish lurk -deep. The fish in the net came up like a blue moonrise—a blaze of -darting, tossing blue. - -“Among their catch was a many-tentaculate, evil-eyed black thing, -ferociously active, whose appearance they greeted with shrieks and -twitters, and which with quick, nervous movements they hacked to pieces -by means of little hatchets. All its dissevered limbs continued to lash -and writhe in a vicious manner. Afterwards, when fever had hold of me, -I dreamt again and again of that bitter, furious creature rising so -vigorous and active out of the unknown sea. It was the most active and -malignant thing of all the living creatures I have yet seen in this -world inside the moon.... - -“The surface of this sea must be very nearly two hundred miles (if not -more) below the level of the moon’s exterior; all the cities of the -moon lie, I learnt, immediately above this Central Sea, in such -cavernous spaces and artificial galleries as I have described, and they -communicate with the exterior by enormous vertical shafts which open -invariably in what are called by earthly astronomers the ‘craters’ of -the moon. The lid covering one such aperture I had already seen during -the wanderings that had preceded my capture. - -“Upon the condition of the less central portion of the moon I have not -yet arrived at very precise knowledge. There is an enormous system of -caverns in which the mooncalves shelter during the night; and there are -abattoirs and the like—in one of these it was that I and Bedford fought -with the Selenite butchers—and I have since seen balloons laden with -meat descending out of the upper dark. I have as yet scarcely learnt as -much of these things as a Zulu in London would learn about the British -corn supplies in the same time. It is clear, however, that these -vertical shafts and the vegetation of the surface must play an -essential role in ventilating and keeping fresh the atmosphere of the -moon. At one time, and particularly on my first emergence from my -prison, there was certainly a cold wind blowing _down_ the shaft, and -later there was a kind of sirocco upward that corresponded with my -fever. For at the end of about three weeks I fell ill of an indefinable -sort of fever, and in spite of sleep and the quinine tabloids that very -fortunately I had brought in my pocket, I remained ill and fretting -miserably, almost to the time when I was taken into the presence of the -Grand Lunar, who is Master of the Moon. - -“I will not dilate on the wretchedness of my condition,” he remarks, -“during those days of ill-health.” And he goes on with great amplitude -with details I omit here. “My temperature,” he concludes, “kept -abnormally high for a long time, and I lost all desire for food. I had -stagnant waking intervals, and sleep tormented by dreams, and at one -phase I was, I remember, so weak as to be earth-sick and almost -hysterical. I longed almost intolerably for colour to break the -everlasting blue...” - -He reverts again presently to the topic of this sponge-caught lunar -atmosphere. I am told by astronomers and physicists that all he tells -is in absolute accordance with what was already known of the moon’s -condition. Had earthly astronomers had the courage and imagination to -push home a bold induction, says Mr. Wendigee, they might have foretold -almost everything that Cavor has to say of the general structure of the -moon. They know now pretty certainly that moon and earth are not so -much satellite and primary as smaller and greater sisters, made out of -one mass, and consequently made of the same material. And since the -density of the moon is only three-fifths that of the earth, there can -be nothing for it but that she is hollowed out by a great system of -caverns. There was no necessity, said Sir Jabez Flap, F.R.S., that most -entertaining exponent of the facetious side of the stars, that we -should ever have gone to the moon to find out such easy inferences, and -points the pun with an allusion to Gruyère, but he certainly might have -announced his knowledge of the hollowness of the moon before. And if -the moon is hollow, then the apparent absence of air and water is, of -course, quite easily explained. The sea lies within at the bottom of -the caverns, and the air travels through the great sponge of galleries, -in accordance with simple physical laws. The caverns of the moon, on -the whole, are very windy places. As the sunlight comes round the moon -the air in the outer galleries on that side is heated, its pressure -increases, some flows out on the exterior and mingles with the -evaporating air of the craters (where the plants remove its carbonic -acid), while the greater portion flows round through the galleries to -replace the shrinking air of the cooling side that the sunlight has -left. There is, therefore, a constant eastward breeze in the air of the -outer galleries, and an upflow during the lunar day up the shafts, -complicated, of course, very greatly by the varying shape of the -galleries, and the ingenious contrivances of the Selenite mind.... - - - - -XXIV. -The Natural History of the Selenites - - -The messages of Cavor from the sixth up to the sixteenth are for the -most part so much broken, and they abound so in repetitions, that they -scarcely form a consecutive narrative. They will be given in full, of -course, in the scientific report, but here it will be far more -convenient to continue simply to abstract and quote as in the former -chapter. We have subjected every word to a keen critical scrutiny, and -my own brief memories and impressions of lunar things have been of -inestimable help in interpreting what would otherwise have been -impenetrably dark. And, naturally, as living beings, our interest -centres far more upon the strange community of lunar insects in which -he was living, it would seem, as an honoured guest than upon the mere -physical condition of their world. - -I have already made it clear, I think, that the Selenites I saw -resembled man in maintaining the erect attitude, and in having four -limbs, and I have compared the general appearance of their heads and -the jointing of their limbs to that of insects. I have mentioned, too, -the peculiar consequence of the smaller gravitation of the moon on -their fragile slightness. Cavor confirms me upon all these points. He -calls them “animals,” though of course they fall under no division of -the classification of earthly creatures, and he points out “the insect -type of anatomy had, fortunately for men, never exceeded a relatively -very small size on earth.” The largest terrestrial insects, living or -extinct, do not, as a matter of fact, measure six inches in length; -“but here, against the lesser gravitation of the moon, a creature -certainly as much an insect as vertebrate seems to have been able to -attain to human and ultra-human dimensions.” - -He does not mention the ant, but throughout his allusions the ant is -continually being brought before my mind, in its sleepless activity, in -its intelligence and social organisation, in its structure, and more -particularly in the fact that it displays, in addition to the two -forms, the male and the female form, that almost all other animals -possess, a number of other sexless creatures, workers, soldiers, and -the like, differing from one another in structure, character, power, -and use, and yet all members of the same species. For these Selenites, -also, have a great variety of forms. Of course, they are not only -colossally greater in size than ants, but also, in Cavor’s opinion at -least, in intelligence, morality, and social wisdom are they colossally -greater than men. And instead of the four or five different forms of -ant that are found, there are almost innumerably different forms of -Selenite. I had endeavoured to indicate the very considerable -difference observable in such Selenites of the outer crust as I -happened to encounter; the differences in size and proportions were -certainly as wide as the differences between the most widely separated -races of men. But such differences as I saw fade absolutely to nothing -in comparison with the huge distinctions of which Cavor tells. It would -seem the exterior Selenites I saw were, indeed, mostly engaged in -kindred occupations—mooncalf herds, butchers, fleshers, and the like. -But within the moon, practically unsuspected by me, there are, it -seems, a number of other sorts of Selenite, differing in size, -differing in the relative size of part to part, differing in power and -appearance, and yet not different species of creatures, but only -different forms of one species, and retaining through all their -variations a certain common likeness that marks their specific unity. -The moon is, indeed, a sort of vast ant-hill, only, instead of there -being only four or five sorts of ant, there are many hundred different -sorts of Selenite, and almost every gradation between one sort and -another. - -It would seem the discovery came upon Cavor very speedily. I infer -rather than learn from his narrative that he was captured by the -mooncalf herds under the direction of these other Selenites who “have -larger brain cases (heads?) and very much shorter legs.” Finding he -would not walk even under the goad, they carried him into darkness, -crossed a narrow, plank-like bridge that may have been the identical -bridge I had refused, and put him down in something that must have -seemed at first to be some sort of lift. This was the balloon—it had -certainly been absolutely invisible to us in the darkness—and what had -seemed to me a mere plank-walking into the void was really, no doubt, -the passage of the gangway. In this he descended towards constantly -more luminous caverns of the moon. At first they descended in -silence—save for the twitterings of the Selenites—and then into a stir -of windy movement. In a little while the profound blackness had made -his eyes so sensitive that he began to see more and more of the things -about him, and at last the vague took shape. - -“Conceive an enormous cylindrical space,” says Cavor, in his seventh -message, “a quarter of a mile across, perhaps; very dimly lit at first -and then brighter, with big platforms twisting down its sides in a -spiral that vanishes at last below in a blue profundity; and lit even -more brightly—one could not tell how or why. Think of the well of the -very largest spiral staircase or lift-shaft that you have ever looked -down, and magnify that by a hundred. Imagine it at twilight seen -through blue glass. Imagine yourself looking down that; only imagine -also that you feel extraordinarily light, and have got rid of any giddy -feeling you might have on earth, and you will have the first conditions -of my impression. Round this enormous shaft imagine a broad gallery -running in a much steeper spiral than would be credible on earth, and -forming a steep road protected from the gulf only by a little parapet -that vanishes at last in perspective a couple of miles below. - -“Looking up, I saw the very fellow of the downward vision; it had, of -course, the effect of looking into a very steep cone. A wind was -blowing down the shaft, and far above I fancy I heard, growing fainter -and fainter, the bellowing of the mooncalves that were being driven -down again from their evening pasturage on the exterior. And up and -down the spiral galleries were scattered numerous moon people, pallid, -faintly luminous beings, regarding our appearance or busied on unknown -errands. - -“Either I fancied it or a flake of snow came drifting down on the icy -breeze. And then, falling like a snowflake, a little figure, a little -man-insect, clinging to a parachute, drove down very swiftly towards -the central places of the moon. - -“The big-headed Selenite sitting beside me, seeing me move my head with -the gesture of one who saw, pointed with his trunk-like ‘hand’ and -indicated a sort of jetty coming into sight very far below: a little -landing-stage, as it were, hanging into the void. As it swept up -towards us our pace diminished very rapidly, and in a few moments, as -it seemed, we were abreast of it, and at rest. A mooring-rope was flung -and grasped, and I found myself pulled down to a level with a great -crowd of Selenites, who jostled to see me. - -“It was an incredible crowd. Suddenly and violently there was forced -upon my attention the vast amount of difference there is amongst these -beings of the moon. - -“Indeed, there seemed not two alike in all that jostling multitude. -They differed in shape, they differed in size, they rang all the -horrible changes on the theme of Selenite form! Some bulged and -overhung, some ran about among the feet of their fellows. All of them -had a grotesque and disquieting suggestion of an insect that has -somehow contrived to mock humanity; but all seemed to present an -incredible exaggeration of some particular feature: one had a vast -right fore-limb, an enormous antennal arm, as it were; one seemed all -leg, poised, as it were, on stilts; another protruded the edge of his -face mask into a nose-like organ that made him startlingly human until -one saw his expressionless gaping mouth. The strange and (except for -the want of mandibles and palps) most insect-like head of the -mooncalf-minders underwent, indeed, the most incredible -transformations: here it was broad and low, here high and narrow; here -its leathery brow was drawn out into horns and strange features; here -it was whiskered and divided, and there with a grotesquely human -profile. One distortion was particularly conspicuous. There were -several brain cases distended like bladders to a huge size, with the -face mask reduced to quite small proportions. There were several -amazing forms, with heads reduced to microscopic proportions and blobby -bodies; and fantastic, flimsy things that existed, it would seem, only -as a basis for vast, trumpet-like protrusions of the lower part of the -mask. And oddest of all, as it seemed to me for the moment, two or -three of these weird inhabitants of a subterranean world, a world -sheltered by innumerable miles of rock from sun or rain, _carried -umbrellas_ in their tentaculate hands—real terrestrial looking -umbrellas! And then I thought of the parachutist I had watched descend. - -“These moon people behaved exactly as a human crowd might have done in -similar circumstances: they jostled and thrust one another, they shoved -one another aside, they even clambered upon one another to get a -glimpse of me. Every moment they increased in numbers, and pressed more -urgently upon the discs of my ushers”—Cavor does not explain what he -means by this—“every moment fresh shapes emerged from the shadows and -forced themselves upon my astounded attention. And presently I was -signed and helped into a sort of litter, and lifted up on the shoulders -of strong-armed bearers, and so borne through the twilight over this -seething multitude towards the apartments that were provided for me in -the moon. All about me were eyes, faces, masks, a leathery noise like -the rustling of beetle wings, and a great bleating and cricket-like -twittering of Selenite voices.” - -We gather he was taken to a “hexagonal apartment,” and there for a -space he was confined. Afterwards he was given a much more considerable -liberty; indeed, almost as much freedom as one has in a civilised town -on earth. And it would appear that the mysterious being who is the -ruler and master of the moon appointed two Selenites “with large heads” -to guard and study him, and to establish whatever mental communications -were possible with him. And, amazing and incredible as it may seem, -these two creatures, these fantastic men insects, these beings of other -world, were presently communicating with Cavor by means of terrestrial -speech. - -Cavor speaks of them as Phi-oo and Tsi-puff. Phi-oo, he says, was about -5 feet high; he had small slender legs about 18 inches long, and slight -feet of the common lunar pattern. On these balanced a little body, -throbbing with the pulsations of his heart. He had long, soft, -many-jointed arms ending in a tentacled grip, and his neck was -many-jointed in the usual way, but exceptionally short and thick. His -head, says Cavor—apparently alluding to some previous description that -has gone astray in space—“is of the common lunar type, but strangely -modified. The mouth has the usual expressionless gape, but it is -unusually small and pointing downward, and the mask is reduced to the -size of a large flat nose-flap. On either side are the little eyes. - -“The rest of the head is distended into a huge globe and the chitinous -leathery cuticle of the mooncalf herds thins out to a mere membrane, -through which the pulsating brain movements are distinctly visible. He -is a creature, indeed, with a tremendously hypertrophied brain, and -with the rest of his organism both relatively and absolutely dwarfed.” - -In another passage Cavor compares the back view of him to Atlas -supporting the world. Tsi-puff it seems was a very similar insect, but -his “face” was drawn out to a considerable length, and the brain -hypertrophy being in different regions, his head was not round but -pear-shaped, with the stalk downward. There were also litter-carriers, -lopsided beings, with enormous shoulders, very spidery ushers, and a -squat foot attendant in Cavor’s retinue. - -The manner in which Phi-oo and Tsi-puff attacked the problem of speech -was fairly obvious. They came into this “hexagonal cell” in which Cavor -was confined, and began imitating every sound he made, beginning with a -cough. He seems to have grasped their intention with great quickness, -and to have begun repeating words to them and pointing to indicate the -application. The procedure was probably always the same. Phi-oo would -attend to Cavor for a space, then point also and say the word he had -heard. - -The first word he mastered was “man,” and the second “Mooney”—which -Cavor on the spur of the moment seems to have used instead of -“Selenite” for the moon race. As soon as Phi-oo was assured of the -meaning of a word he repeated it to Tsi-puff, who remembered it -infallibly. They mastered over one hundred English nouns at their first -session. - -Subsequently it seems they brought an artist with them to assist the -work of explanation with sketches and diagrams—Cavor’s drawings being -rather crude. “He was,” says Cavor, “a being with an active arm and an -arresting eye,” and he seemed to draw with incredible swiftness. - -The eleventh message is undoubtedly only a fragment of a longer -communication. After some broken sentences, the record of which is -unintelligible, it goes on:— - -“But it will interest only linguists, and delay me too long, to give -the details of the series of intent parleys of which these were the -beginning, and, indeed, I very much doubt if I could give in anything -like the proper order all the twistings and turnings that we made in -our pursuit of mutual comprehension. Verbs were soon plain sailing—at -least, such active verbs as I could express by drawings; some -adjectives were easy, but when it came to abstract nouns, to -prepositions, and the sort of hackneyed figures of speech, by means of -which so much is expressed on earth, it was like diving in -cork-jackets. Indeed, these difficulties were insurmountable until to -the sixth lesson came a fourth assistant, a being with a huge -football-shaped head, whose _forte_ was clearly the pursuit of -intricate analogy. He entered in a preoccupied manner, stumbling -against a stool, and the difficulties that arose had to be presented to -him with a certain amount of clamour and hitting and pricking before -they reached his apprehension. But once he was involved his penetration -was amazing. Whenever there came a need of thinking beyond Phi-oo’s by -no means limited scope, this prolate-headed person was in request, but -he invariably told the conclusion to Tsi-puff, in order that it might -be remembered; Tsi-puff was ever the arsenal for facts. And so we -advanced again. - -“It seemed long and yet brief—a matter of days—before I was positively -talking with these insects of the moon. Of course, at first it was an -intercourse infinitely tedious and exasperating, but imperceptibly it -has grown to comprehension. And my patience has grown to meet its -limitations, Phi-oo it is who does all the talking. He does it with a -vast amount of meditative provisional ‘M’m—M’m’ and has caught up one -or two phrases, If I may say,’ ‘If you understand,’ and beads all his -speech with them. - -“Thus he would discourse. Imagine him explaining his artist. - -“‘M’m—M’m—he—if I may say—draw. Eat little—drink little—draw. Love -draw. No other thing. Hate all who not draw like him. Angry. Hate all -who draw like him better. Hate most people. Hate all who not think all -world for to draw. Angry. M’m. All things mean nothing to him—only -draw. He like you ... if you understand.... New thing to draw. -Ugly—striking. Eh? - -“‘He’—turning to Tsi-puff—‘love remember words. Remember wonderful more -than any. Think no, draw no—remember. Say’—here he referred to his -gifted assistant for a word—‘histories—all things. He hear once—say -ever.’ - -“It is more wonderful to me than I dreamt that anything ever could be -again, to hear, in this perpetual obscurity, these extraordinary -creatures—for even familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect of -their appearance—continually piping a nearer approach to coherent -earthly speech—asking questions, giving answers. I feel that I am -casting back to the fable-hearing period of childhood again, when the -ant and the grasshopper talked together and the bee judged between -them...” - -And while these linguistic exercises were going on Cavor seems to have -experienced a considerable relaxation of his confinement. “The first -dread and distrust our unfortunate conflict aroused is being,” he said, -“continually effaced by the deliberate rationality of all I do.... I am -now able to come and go as I please, or I am restricted only for my own -good. So it is I have been able to get at this apparatus, and, assisted -by a happy find among the material that is littered in this enormous -store-cave, I have contrived to despatch these messages. So far not the -slightest attempt has been made to interfere with me in this, though I -have made it quite clear to Phi-oo that I am signalling to the earth. - -“‘You talk to other?’ he asked, watching me. - -“‘Others,’ said I. - -“‘Others,’ he said. ‘Oh yes, Men?’ - -“And I went on transmitting.” - -Cavor was continually making corrections in his previous accounts of -the Selenites as fresh facts flowed upon him to modify his conclusions, -and accordingly one gives the quotations that follow with a certain -amount of reservation. They are quoted from the ninth, thirteenth, and -sixteenth messages, and, altogether vague and fragmentary as they are, -they probably give as complete a picture of the social life of this -strange community as mankind can now hope to have for many generations. - -“In the moon,” says Cavor, “every citizen knows his place. He is born -to that place, and the elaborate discipline of training and education -and surgery he undergoes fits him at last so completely to it that he -has neither ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it. ‘Why should -he?’ Phi-oo would ask. If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a -mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. -They check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage -his mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill. His brain -grows, or at least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and -the rest of him only so much as is necessary to sustain this essential -part of him. At last, save for rest and food, his one delight lies in -the exercise and display of his faculty, his one interest in its -application, his sole society with other specialists in his own line. -His brain grows continually larger, at least so far as the portions -engaging in mathematics are concerned; they bulge ever larger and seem -to suck all life and vigour from the rest of his frame. His limbs -shrivel, his heart and digestive organs diminish, his insect face is -hidden under its bulging contours. His voice becomes a mere -stridulation for the stating of formulæ; he seems deaf to all but -properly enunciated problems. The faculty of laughter, save for the -sudden discovery of some paradox, is lost to him; his deepest emotion -is the evolution of a novel computation. And so he attains his end. - -“Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a minder of mooncalves is from -his earliest years induced to think and live mooncalf, to find his -pleasure in mooncalf lore, his exercise in their tending and pursuit. -He is trained to become wiry and active, his eye is indurated to the -tight wrappings, the angular contours that constitute a ‘smart -mooncalfishness.’ He takes at last no interest in the deeper part of -the moon; he regards all Selenites not equally versed in mooncalves -with indifference, derision, or hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf -pastures, and his dialect an accomplished mooncalf technique. So also -he loves his work, and discharges in perfect happiness the duty that -justifies his being. And so it is with all sorts and conditions of -Selenites—each is a perfect unit in a world machine.... - -“These beings with big heads, on whom the intellectual labours fall, -form a sort of aristocracy in this strange society, and at the head of -them, quintessential of the moon, is that marvellous gigantic ganglion -the Grand Lunar, into whose presence I am finally to come. The -unlimited development of the minds of the intellectual class is -rendered possible by the absence of any bony skull in the lunar -anatomy, that strange box of bone that clamps about the developing -brain of man, imperiously insisting ‘thus far and no farther’ to all -his possibilities. They fall into three main classes differing greatly -in influence and respect. There are administrators, of whom Phi-oo is -one, Selenites of considerable initiative and versatility, responsible -each for a certain cubic content of the moon’s bulk; the experts like -the football-headed thinker, who are trained to perform certain special -operations; and the erudite, who are the repositories of all knowledge. -To the latter class belongs Tsi-puff, the first lunar professor of -terrestrial languages. With regard to these latter, it is a curious -little thing to note that the unlimited growth of the lunar brain has -rendered unnecessary the invention of all those mechanical aids to -brain work which have distinguished the career of man. There are no -books, no records of any sort, no libraries or inscriptions. All -knowledge is stored in distended brains much as the honey-ants of Texas -store honey in their distended abdomens. The lunar Somerset House and -the lunar British Museum Library are collections of living brains... - -“The less specialised administrators, I note, do for the most part take -a very lively interest in me whenever they encounter me. They will come -out of the way and stare at me and ask questions to which Phi-oo will -reply. I see them going hither and thither with a retinue of bearers, -attendants, shouters, parachute-carriers, and so forth—queer groups to -see. The experts for the most part ignore me completely, even as they -ignore each other, or notice me only to begin a clamorous exhibition of -their distinctive skill. The erudite for the most part are rapt in an -impervious and apoplectic complacency, from which only a denial of -their erudition can rouse them. Usually they are led about by little -watchers and attendants, and often there are small and active-looking -creatures, small females usually, that I am inclined to think are a -sort of wife to them; but some of the profounder scholars are -altogether too great for locomotion, and are carried from place to -place in a sort of sedan tub, wabbling jellies of knowledge that enlist -my respectful astonishment. I have just passed one in coming to this -place where I am permitted to amuse myself with these electrical toys, -a vast, shaven, shaky head, bald and thin-skinned, carried on his -grotesque stretcher. In front and behind came his bearers, and curious, -almost trumpet-faced, news disseminators shrieked his fame. - -“I have already mentioned the retinues that accompany most of the -intellectuals: ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles and -muscles, as it were, to replace the abortive physical powers of these -hypertrophied minds. Porters almost invariably accompany them. There -are also extremely swift messengers with spider-like legs and ‘hands’ -for grasping parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs that could -well nigh wake the dead. Apart from their controlling intelligence -these subordinates are as inert and helpless as umbrellas in a stand. -They exist only in relation to the orders they have to obey, the duties -they have to perform. - -“The bulk of these insects, however, who go to and fro upon the spiral -ways, who fill the ascending balloons and drop past me clinging to -flimsy parachutes are, I gather, of the operative class. ‘Machine -hands,’ indeed, some of these are in actual nature—it is no figure of -speech, the single tentacle of the mooncalf herd is profoundly modified -for clawing, lifting, guiding, the rest of them no more than necessary -subordinate appendages to these important parts. Some, who I suppose -deal with bell-striking mechanisms, have enormously developed auditory -organs; some whose work lies in delicate chemical operations project a -vast olfactory organ; others again have flat feet for treadles with -anchylosed joints; and others—who I have been told are -glassblowers—seem mere lung-bellows. But every one of these common -Selenites I have seen at work is exquisitely adapted to the social need -it meets. Fine work is done by fined-down workers, amazingly dwarfed -and neat. Some I could hold on the palm of my hand. There is even a -sort of turnspit Selenite, very common, whose duty and only delight it -is to apply the motive power for various small appliances. And to rule -over these things and order any erring tendency there might be in some -aberrant natures are the most muscular beings I have seen in the moon, -a sort of lunar police, who must have been trained from their earliest -years to give a perfect respect and obedience to the swollen heads. - -“The making of these various sorts of operative must be a very curious -and interesting process. I am very much in the dark about it, but quite -recently I came upon a number of young Selenites confined in jars from -which only the fore-limbs protruded, who were being compressed to -become machine-minders of a special sort. The extended ‘hand’ in this -highly developed system of technical education is stimulated by -irritants and nourished by injection, while the rest of the body is -starved. Phi-oo, unless I misunderstood him, explained that in the -earlier stages these queer little creatures are apt to display signs of -suffering in their various cramped situations, but they easily become -indurated to their lot; and he took me on to where a number of -flexible-minded messengers were being drawn out and broken in. It is -quite unreasonable, I know, but such glimpses of the educational -methods of these beings affect me disagreeably. I hope, however, that -may pass off, and I may be able to see more of this aspect of their -wonderful social order. That wretched-looking hand-tentacle sticking -out of its jar seemed to have a sort of limp appeal for lost -possibilities; it haunts me still, although, of course it is really in -the end a far more humane proceeding than our earthly method of leaving -children to grow into human beings, and then making machines of them. - -“Quite recently, too—I think it was on the eleventh or twelfth visit I -made to this apparatus—I had a curious light upon the lives of these -operatives. I was being guided through a short cut hither, instead of -going down the spiral, and by the quays to the Central Sea. From the -devious windings of a long, dark gallery, we emerged into a vast, low -cavern, pervaded by an earthy smell, and as things go in this darkness, -rather brightly lit. The light came from a tumultuous growth of livid -fungoid shapes—some indeed singularly like our terrestrial mushrooms, -but standing as high or higher than a man. - -“‘Mooneys eat these?’ said I to Phi-oo. - -“‘Yes, food.’ - -“‘Goodness me!’ I cried; ‘what’s that?’ - -“My eye had just caught the figure of an exceptionally big and ungainly -Selenite lying motionless among the stems, face downward. We stopped. - -“‘Dead?’ I asked. (For as yet I have seen no dead in the moon, and I -have grown curious.) - -“‘_No!_’ exclaimed Phi-oo. ‘Him—worker—no work to do. Get little drink -then—make sleep—till we him want. What good him wake, eh? No want him -walking about.’ - -“‘There’s another!’ cried I. - -“And indeed all that huge extent of mushroom ground was, I found, -peppered with these prostrate figures sleeping under an opiate until -the moon had need of them. There were scores of them of all sorts, and -we were able to turn over some of them, and examine them more precisely -than I had been able to do previously. They breathed noisily at my -doing so, but did not wake. One, I remember very distinctly: he left a -strong impression, I think, because some trick of the light and of his -attitude was strongly suggestive of a drawn-up human figure. His -fore-limbs were long, delicate tentacles—he was some kind of refined -manipulator—and the pose of his slumber suggested a submissive -suffering. No doubt it was a mistake for me to interpret his expression -in that way, but I did. And as Phi-oo rolled him over into the darkness -among the livid fleshiness again I felt a distinctly unpleasant -sensation, although as he rolled the insect in him was confessed. - -“It simply illustrates the unthinking way in which one acquires habits -of feeling. To drug the worker one does not want and toss him aside is -surely far better than to expel him from his factory to wander starving -in the streets. In every complicated social community there is -necessarily a certain intermittency of employment for all specialised -labour, and in this way the trouble of an ‘unemployed’ problem is -altogether anticipated. And yet, so unreasonable are even -scientifically trained minds, I still do not like the memory of those -prostrate forms amidst those quiet, luminous arcades of fleshy growth, -and I avoid that short cut in spite of the inconveniences of the -longer, more noisy, and more crowded alternative. - -“My alternative route takes me round by a huge, shadowy cavern, very -crowded and clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of the -hexagonal openings of a sort of honeycomb wall, or parading a large -open space behind, or selecting the toys and amulets made to please -them by the dainty-tentacled jewellers who work in kennels below, the -mothers of the moon world—the queen bees, as it were, of the hive. They -are noble-looking beings, fantastically and sometimes quite beautifully -adorned, with a proud carriage, and, save for their mouths, almost -microscopic heads. - -“Of the condition of the moon sexes, marrying and giving in marriage, -and of birth and so forth among the Selenites, I have as yet been able -to learn very little. With the steady progress of Phi-oo in English, -however, my ignorance will no doubt as steadily disappear. I am of -opinion that, as with the ants and bees, there is a large majority of -the members in this community of the neuter sex. Of course on earth in -our cities there are now many who never live that life of parentage -which is the natural life of man. Here, as with the ants, this thing -has become a normal condition of the race, and the whole of such -replacement as is necessary falls upon this special and by no means -numerous class of matrons, the mothers of the moon-world, large and -stately beings beautifully fitted to bear the larval Selenite. Unless I -misunderstand an explanation of Phi-oo’s, they are absolutely incapable -of cherishing the young they bring into the moon; periods of foolish -indulgence alternate with moods of aggressive violence, and as soon as -possible the little creatures, who are quite soft and flabby and pale -coloured, are transferred to the charge of celibate females, women -‘workers’ as it were, who in some cases possess brains of almost -masculine dimensions.” - -Just at this point, unhappily, this message broke off. Fragmentary and -tantalising as the matter constituting this chapter is, it does -nevertheless give a vague, broad impression of an altogether strange -and wonderful world—a world with which our own may have to reckon we -know not how speedily. This intermittent trickle of messages, this -whispering of a record needle in the stillness of the mountain slopes, -is the first warning of such a change in human conditions as mankind -has scarcely imagined heretofore. In that satellite of ours there are -new elements, new appliances, traditions, an overwhelming avalanche of -new ideas, a strange race with whom we must inevitably struggle for -mastery—gold as common as iron or wood... - - - - -XXV. -The Grand Lunar - - -The penultimate message describes, with occasionally elaborate detail, -the encounter between Cavor and the Grand Lunar, who is the ruler or -master of the moon. Cavor seems to have sent most of it without -interference, but to have been interrupted in the concluding portion. -The second came after an interval of a week. - -The first message begins: “At last I am able to resume this—” it then -becomes illegible for a space, and after a time resumed in -mid-sentence. - -The missing words of the following sentence are probably “the crowd.” -There follows quite clearly: “grew ever denser as we drew near the -palace of the Grand Lunar—if I may call a series of excavations a -palace. Everywhere faces stared at me—blank, chitinous gapes and masks, -eyes peering over tremendous olfactory developments, eyes beneath -monstrous forehead plates; and undergrowth of smaller creatures dodged -and yelped, and helmet faces poised on sinuous, long-jointed necks -appeared craning over shoulders and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome -space about me marched a cordon of stolid, scuttle-headed guards, who -had joined us on our leaving the boat in which we had come along the -channels of the Central Sea. The quick-eyed artist with the little -brain joined us also, and a thick bunch of lean porter-insects swayed -and struggled under the multitude of conveniences that were considered -essential to my state. I was carried in a litter during the final stage -of our journey. This litter was made of some very ductile metal that -looked dark to me, meshed and woven, and with bars of paler metal, and -about me as I advanced there grouped itself a long and complicated -procession. - -“In front, after the manner of heralds, marched four trumpet-faced -creatures making a devastating bray; and then came squat, -resolute-moving ushers before and behind, and on either hand a galaxy -of learned heads, a sort of animated encyclopedia, who were, Phi-oo -explained, to stand about the Grand Lunar for purposes of reference. -(Not a thing in lunar science, not a point of view or method of -thinking, that these wonderful beings did not carry in their heads!) -Followed guards and porters, and then Phi-oo’s shivering brain borne -also on a litter. Then came Tsi-puff in a slightly less important -litter; then myself on a litter of greater elegance than any other, and -surrounded by my food and drink attendants. More trumpeters came next, -splitting the ear with vehement outcries, and then several big brains, -special correspondents one might well call them, or historiographers, -charged with the task of observing and remembering every detail of this -epoch-making interview. A company of attendants, bearing and dragging -banners and masses of scented fungus and curious symbols, vanished in -the darkness behind. The way was lined by ushers and officers in -caparisons that gleamed like steel, and beyond their line, so far as my -eyes could pierce the gloom, the heads of that enormous crowd extended. - -“I will own that I am still by no means indurated to the peculiar -effect of the Selenite appearance, and to find myself, as it were, -adrift on this broad sea of excited entomology was by no means -agreeable. Just for a space I had something very like what I should -imagine people mean when they speak of the ‘horrors.’ It had come to me -before in these lunar caverns, when on occasion I have found myself -weaponless and with an undefended back, amidst a crowd of these -Selenites, but never quite so vividly. It is, of course, as absolutely -irrational a feeling as one could well have, and I hope gradually to -subdue it. But just for a moment, as I swept forward into the welter of -the vast crowd, it was only by gripping my litter tightly and summoning -all my will-power that I succeeded in avoiding an outcry or some such -manifestation. It lasted perhaps three minutes; then I had myself in -hand again. - -“We ascended the spiral of a vertical way for some time, and then -passed through a series of huge halls dome-roofed and elaborately -decorated. The approach to the Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to -give one a vivid impression of his greatness. Each cavern one entered -seemed greater and more boldly arched than its predecessor. This effect -of progressive size was enhanced by a thin haze of faintly -phosphorescent blue incense that thickened as one advanced, and robbed -even the nearer figures of clearness. I seemed to advance continually -to something larger, dimmer, and less material. - -“I must confess that all this multitude made me feel extremely shabby -and unworthy. I was unshaven and unkempt; I had brought no razor; I had -a coarse beard over my mouth. On earth I have always been inclined to -despise any attention to my person beyond a proper care for -cleanliness; but under the exceptional circumstances in which I found -myself, representing, as I did, my planet and my kind, and depending -very largely upon the attractiveness of my appearance for a proper -reception, I could have given much for something a little more artistic -and dignified than the husks I wore. I had been so serene in the belief -that the moon was uninhabited as to overlook such precautions -altogether. As it was I was dressed in a flannel jacket, -knickerbockers, and golfing stockings, stained with every sort of dirt -the moon offered, slippers (of which the left heel was wanting), and a -blanket, through a hole in which I thrust my head. (These clothes, -indeed, I still wear.) Sharp bristles are anything but an improvement -to my cast of features, and there was an unmended tear at the knee of -my knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as I squatted in my litter; -my right stocking, too, persisted in getting about my ankle. I am fully -alive to the injustice my appearance did humanity, and if by any -expedient I could have improvised something a little out of the way and -imposing I would have done so. But I could hit upon nothing. I did what -I could with my blanket—folding it somewhat after the fashion of a -toga, and for the rest I sat as upright as the swaying of my litter -permitted. - -“Imagine the largest hall you have ever been in, imperfectly lit with -blue light and obscured by a grey-blue fog, surging with metallic or -livid-grey creatures of such a mad diversity as I have hinted. Imagine -this hall to end in an open archway beyond which is a still larger -hall, and beyond this yet another and still larger one, and so on. At -the end of the vista, dimly seen, a flight of steps, like the steps of -Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend out of sight. Higher and higher these steps -appear to go as one draws nearer their base. But at last I came under a -huge archway and beheld the summit of these steps, and upon it the -Grand Lunar exalted on his throne. - -“He was seated in what was relatively a blaze of incandescent blue. -This, and the darkness about him gave him an effect of floating in a -blue-black void. He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud at first, -brooding on his sombre throne; his brain case must have measured many -yards in diameter. For some reason that I cannot fathom a number of -blue search-lights radiated from behind the throne on which he sat, and -immediately encircling him was a halo. About him, and little and -indistinct in this glow, a number of body-servants sustained and -supported him, and overshadowed and standing in a huge semicircle -beneath him were his intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers and -computators and searchers and servants, and all the distinguished -insects of the court of the moon. Still lower stood ushers and -messengers, and then all down the countless steps of the throne were -guards, and at the base, enormous, various, indistinct, vanishing at -last into an absolute black, a vast swaying multitude of the minor -dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a perpetual scraping whisper -on the rocky floor, as their limbs moved with a rustling murmur. - -“As I entered the penultimate hall the music rose and expanded into an -imperial magnificence of sound, and the shrieks of the news-bearers -died away.... - -“I entered the last and greatest hall.... - -“My procession opened out like a fan. My ushers and guards went right -and left, and the three litters bearing myself and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff -marched across a shiny darkness of floor to the foot of the giant -stairs. Then began a vast throbbing hum, that mingled with the music. -The two Selenites dismounted, but I was bidden remain seated—I imagine -as a special honour. The music ceased, but not that humming, and by a -simultaneous movement of ten thousand respectful heads my attention was -directed to the enhaloed supreme intelligence that hovered above me. - -“At first as I peered into the radiating glow this quintessential brain -looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim, -undulating ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within. Then beneath -its enormity and just above the edge of the throne one saw with a start -minute elfin eyes peering out of the glow. No face, but eyes, as if -they peered through holes. At first I could see no more than these two -staring little eyes, and then below I distinguished the little dwarfed -body and its insect-jointed limbs shrivelled and white. The eyes stared -down at me with a strange intensity, and the lower part of the swollen -globe was wrinkled. Ineffectual-looking little hand-tentacles steadied -this shape on the throne.... - -“It was great. It was pitiful. One forgot the hall and the crowd. - -“I ascended the staircase by jerks. It seemed to me that this darkly -glowing brain case above us spread over me, and took more and more of -the whole effect into itself as I drew nearer. The tiers of attendants -and helpers grouped about their master seemed to dwindle and fade into -the night. I saw that shadowy attendants were busy spraying that great -brain with a cooling spray, and patting and sustaining it. For my own -part, I sat gripping my swaying litter and staring at the Grand Lunar, -unable to turn my gaze aside. And at last, as I reached a little -landing that was separated only by ten steps or so from the supreme -seat, the woven splendour of the music reached a climax and ceased, and -I was left naked, as it were, in that vastness, beneath the still -scrutiny of the Grand Lunar’s eyes. - -“He was scrutinising the first man he had ever seen.... - -“My eyes dropped at last from his greatness to the ant figures in the -blue mist about him, and then down the steps to the massed Selenites, -still and expectant in their thousands, packed on the floor below. Once -again an unreasonable horror reached out towards me.... And passed. - -“After the pause came the salutation. I was assisted from my litter, -and stood awkwardly while a number of curious and no doubt deeply -symbolical gestures were vicariously performed for me by two slender -officials. The encyclopaedic galaxy of the learned that had accompanied -me to the entrance of the last hall appeared two steps above me and -left and right of me, in readiness for the Grand Lunar’s need, and -Phi-oo’s pale brain placed itself about half-way up to the throne in -such a position as to communicate easily between us without turning his -back on either the Grand Lunar or myself. Tsi-puff took up a position -behind him. Dexterous ushers sidled sideways towards me, keeping a full -face to the Presence. I seated myself Turkish fashion, and Phi-oo and -Tsi-puff also knelt down above me. There came a pause. The eyes of the -nearer court went from me to the Grand Lunar and came back to me, and a -hissing and piping of expectation passed across the hidden multitudes -below and ceased. - -“That humming ceased. - -“For the first and last time in my experience the moon was silent. - -“I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. The Grand Lunar was addressing -me. It was like the rubbing of a finger upon a pane of glass. - -“I watched him attentively for a time, and then glanced at the alert -Phi-oo. I felt amidst these slender beings ridiculously thick and -fleshy and solid; my head all jaw and black hair. My eyes went back to -the Grand Lunar. He had ceased; his attendants were busy, and his -shining superficies was glistening and running with cooling spray. - -“Phi-oo meditated through an interval. He consulted Tsi-puff. Then he -began piping his recognisable English—at first a little nervously, so -that he was not very clear. - -“‘M’m—the Grand Lunar—wished to say—wishes to say—he gathers you -are—m’m—men—that you are a man from the planet earth. He wishes to say -that he welcomes you—welcomes you—and wishes to learn—learn, if I may -use the word—the state of your world, and the reason why you came to -this.’ - -“He paused. I was about to reply when he resumed. He proceeded to -remarks of which the drift was not very clear, though I am inclined to -think they were intended to be complimentary. He told me that the earth -was to the moon what the sun is to the earth, and that the Selenites -desired very greatly to learn about the earth and men. He then told me -no doubt in compliment also, the relative magnitude and diameter of -earth and moon, and the perpetual wonder and speculation with which the -Selenites had regarded our planet. I meditated with downcast eyes, and -decided to reply that men too had wondered what might lie in the moon, -and had judged it dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had -seen that day. The Grand Lunar, in token of recognition, caused his -long blue rays to rotate in a very confusing manner, and all about the -great hall ran the pipings and whisperings and rustlings of the report -of what I had said. He then proceeded to put to Phi-oo a number of -inquiries which were easier to answer. - -“He understood, he explained, that we lived on the surface of the -earth, that our air and sea were outside the globe; the latter part, -indeed, he already knew from his astronomical specialists. He was very -anxious to have more detailed information of what he called this -extraordinary state of affairs, for from the solidity of the earth -there had always been a disposition to regard it as uninhabitable. He -endeavoured first to ascertain the extremes of temperature to which we -earth beings were exposed, and he was deeply interested by my -descriptive treatment of clouds and rain. His imagination was assisted -by the fact that the lunar atmosphere in the outer galleries of the -night side is not infrequently very foggy. He seemed inclined to marvel -that we did not find the sunlight too intense for our eyes, and was -interested in my attempt to explain that the sky was tempered to a -bluish colour through the refraction of the air, though I doubt if he -clearly understood that. I explained how the iris of the human eyes can -contract the pupil and save the delicate internal structure from the -excess of sunlight, and was allowed to approach within a few feet of -the Presence in order that this structure might be seen. This led to a -comparison of the lunar and terrestrial eyes. The former is not only -excessively sensitive to such light as men can see, but it can also -_see_ heat, and every difference in temperature within the moon renders -objects visible to it. - -“The iris was quite a new organ to the Grand Lunar. For a time he -amused himself by flashing his rays into my face and watching my pupils -contract. As a consequence, I was dazzled and blinded for some little -time.... - -“But in spite of that discomfort I found something reassuring by -insensible degrees in the rationality of this business of question and -answer. I could shut my eyes, think of my answer, and almost forget -that the the Grand Lunar has no face.... - -“When I had descended again to my proper place the Grand Lunar asked -how we sheltered ourselves from heat and storms, and I expounded to him -the arts of building and furnishing. Here we wandered into -misunderstandings and cross-purposes, due largely, I must admit, to the -looseness of my expressions. For a long time I had great difficulty in -making him understand the nature of a house. To him and his attendant -Selenites it seemed, no doubt, the most whimsical thing in the world -that men should build houses when they might descend into excavations, -and an additional complication was introduced by the attempt I made to -explain that men had originally begun their homes in caves, and that -they were now taking their railways and many establishments beneath the -surface. Here I think a desire for intellectual completeness betrayed -me. There was also a considerable tangle due to an equally unwise -attempt on my part to explain about mines. Dismissing this topic at -last in an incomplete state, the Grand Lunar inquired what we did with -the interior of our globe. - -“A tide of twittering and piping swept into the remotest corners of -that great assembly when it was at last made clear that we men know -absolutely nothing of the contents of the world upon which the -immemorial generations of our ancestors had been evolved. Three times -had I to repeat that of all the 4000 miles of distance between the -earth and its centre men knew only to the depth of a mile, and that -very vaguely. I understood the Grand Lunar to ask why had I come to the -moon seeing we had scarcely touched our own planet yet, but he did not -trouble me at that time to proceed to an explanation, being too anxious -to pursue the details of this mad inversion of all his ideas. - -“He reverted to the question of weather, and I tried to describe the -perpetually changing sky, and snow, and frost and hurricanes. ‘But when -the night comes,’ he asked, ‘is it not cold?’ - -“I told him it was colder than by day. - -“‘And does not your atmosphere freeze?’ - -“I told him not; that it was never cold enough for that, because our -nights were so short. - -“‘Not even liquefy?’ - -“I was about to say ‘No,’ but then it occurred to me that one part at -least of our atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does sometimes liquefy -and form dew, and sometimes freeze and form frost—a process perfectly -analogous to the freezing of all the external atmosphere of the moon -during its longer night. I made myself clear on this point, and from -that the Grand Lunar went on to speak with me of sleep. For the need of -sleep that comes so regularly every twenty-four hours to all things is -part also of our earthly inheritance. On the moon they rest only at -rare intervals, and after exceptional exertions. Then I tried to -describe to him the soft splendours of a summer night, and from that I -passed to a description of those animals that prowl by night and sleep -by day. I told him of lions and tigers, and here it seemed as though we -had come to a deadlock. For, save in their waters, there are no -creatures in the moon not absolutely domestic and subject to his will, -and so it has been for immemorial years. They have monstrous water -creatures, but no evil beasts, and the idea of anything strong and -large existing ‘outside’ in the night is very difficult for them....” - -[The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps -twenty words or more.] - -“He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange -superficiality and unreasonableness of (man) who lives on the mere -surface of a world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances -of space, who cannot even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon -his kind, and yet who dares to invade another planet. During this aside -I sat thinking, and then at his desire I told him of the different -sorts of men. He searched me with questions. ‘And for all sorts of work -you have the same sort of men. But who thinks? Who governs?’ - -“I gave him an outline of the democratic method. - -“When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then -requested me to repeat my explanation conceiving something had -miscarried. - -“‘Do they not do different things, then?’ said Phi-oo. - -“Some, I admitted, were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some -were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. ‘But _all_ rule,’ I said. - -“‘And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different -duties?’ - -“‘None that you can see,’ I said, ‘except perhaps, for clothes. Their -minds perhaps differ a little,’ I reflected. - -“‘Their minds must differ a great deal,’ said the Grand Lunar, ‘or they -would all want to do the same things.’ - -“In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his -preconceptions, I said that his surmise was right. ‘It was all hidden -in the brain,’ I said; but the difference was there. Perhaps if one -could see the minds and souls of men they would be as varied and -unequal as the Selenites. There were great men and small men, men who -could reach out far and wide, men who could go swiftly; noisy, -trumpet-minded men, and men who could remember without thinking....’” -[The record is indistinct for three words.] - -“He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statements. ‘But you -said all men rule?’ he pressed. - -“‘To a certain extent,’ I said, and made, I fear, a denser fog with my -explanation. - -“He reached out to a salient fact. ‘Do you mean,’ asked, ‘that there is -no Grand Earthly?’ - -“I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I -explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth -had usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large -and influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged, -the Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At -which the Grand Lunar was even more amazed. - -“‘But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?’ he asked; and I -explained to him the way we helped our limited [A word omitted here, -probably “brains.”] with libraries of books. I explained to him how our -science was growing by the united labours of innumerable little men, -and on that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered -much in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the -moon. Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites -grew and changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and -remained brutes—equipped. He said this...” [Here there is a short piece -of the record indistinct.] - -“He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours, -and I described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not -understand that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but -when he did he was clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing, -that the Selenites use years to count by, just as we do on earth, -though I can make nothing of their numeral system. That, however, does -not matter, because Phi-oo understands ours.) From that I went on to -tell him that mankind had dwelt in cities only for nine or ten thousand -years, and that we were still not united in one brotherhood, but under -many different forms of government. This astonished the Grand Lunar -very much, when it was made clear to him. At first he thought we -referred merely to administrative areas. - -“‘Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what order -will some day be,’ I said, and so I came to tell him....” [At this -point a length of record that probably represents thirty or forty words -is totally illegible.] - -“The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging -to the inconvenience of diverse tongues. ‘They want to communicate, and -yet not to communicate,’ he said, and then for a long time he -questioned me closely concerning war. - -“He was at first perplexed and incredulous. ‘You mean to say,’ he -asked, seeking confirmation, ‘that you run about over the surface of -your world—this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to -scrape—killing one another for beasts to eat?’ - -“I told him that was perfectly correct. - -“He asked for particulars to assist his imagination. - -“‘But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?’ he asked, -and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress -him almost as much as the killing. ‘Tell me more,’ said the Grand -Lunar; ‘make me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.’ - -“And so, for a space, though something loath, I told him the story of -earthly War. - -“I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and -ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an -idea of manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of -sieges and assaults, of starvation and hardship in trenches, and of -sentinels freezing in the snow. I told him of routs and surprises, and -desperate last stands and faint hopes, and the pitiless pursuit of -fugitives and the dead upon the field. I told, too, of the past, of -invasions and massacres, of the Huns and Tartars, and the wars of -Mahomet and the Caliphs, and of the Crusades. And as I went on, and -Phi-oo translated, the Selenites cooed and murmured in a steadily -intensified emotion. - -“I told them an ironclad could fire a shot of a ton twelve miles, and -go through 20 feet of iron—and how we could steer torpedoes under -water. I went on to describe a Maxim gun in action, and what I could -imagine of the Battle of Colenso. The Grand Lunar was so incredulous -that he interrupted the translation of what I had said in order to have -my verification of my account. They particularly doubted my description -of the men cheering and rejoicing as they went into battle. - -“‘But surely they do not like it!’ translated Phi-oo. - -“I assured them men of my race considered battle the most glorious -experience of life, at which the whole assembly was stricken with -amazement. - -“‘But what good is this war?’ asked the Grand Lunar, sticking to his -theme. - -“‘Oh! as for _good_!’ said I; ‘it thins the population!’ - -“‘But why should there be a need—?’ - -“There came a pause, the cooling sprays impinged upon his brow, and -then he spoke again.” - -At this point a series of undulations that have been apparent as a -perplexing complication as far back as Cavor’s description of the -silence that fell before the first speaking of the Grand Lunar become -confusingly predominant in the record. These undulations are evidently -the result of radiations proceeding from a lunar source, and their -persistent approximation to the alternating signals of Cavor is -curiously suggestive of some operator deliberately seeking to mix them -in with his message and render it illegible. At first they are small -and regular, so that with a little care and the loss of very few words -we have been able to disentangle Cavor’s message; then they become -broad and larger, then suddenly they are irregular, with an -irregularity that gives the effect at last of some one scribbling -through a line of writing. For a long time nothing can be made of this -madly zigzagging trace; then quite abruptly the interruption ceases, -leaves a few words clear, and then resumes and continues for the rest -of the message, completely obliterating whatever Cavor was attempting -to transmit. Why, if this is indeed a deliberate intervention, the -Selenites should have preferred to let Cavor go on transmitting his -message in happy ignorance of their obliteration of its record, when it -was clearly quite in their power and much more easy and convenient for -them to stop his proceedings at any time, is a problem to which I can -contribute nothing. The thing seems to have happened so, and that is -all I can say. This last rag of his description of the Grand Lunar -begins in mid-sentence. - - -“...interrogated me very closely upon my secret. I was able in a little -while to get to an understanding with them, and at last to elucidate -what has been a puzzle to me ever since I realised the vastness of -their science, namely, how it is they themselves have never discovered -Cavorite.’ I find they know of it as a theoretical substance, but they -have always regarded it as a practical impossibility, because for some -reason there is no helium in the moon, and helium...” - -Across the last letters of helium slashes the resumption of that -obliterating trace. Note that word “secret,” for on that, and that -alone, I base my interpretation of the message that follows, the last -message, as both Mr. Wendigee and myself now believe it to be, that he -is ever likely to send us. - - - - -XXVI. -The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth - - -On this unsatisfactory manner the penultimate message of Cavor dies -out. One seems to see him away there in the blue obscurity amidst his -apparatus intently signalling us to the last, all unaware of the -curtain of confusion that drops between us; all unaware, too, of the -final dangers that even then must have been creeping upon him. His -disastrous want of vulgar common sense had utterly betrayed him. He had -talked of war, he had talked of all the strength and irrational -violence of men, of their insatiable aggressions, their tireless -futility of conflict. He had filled the whole moon world with this -impression of our race, and then I think it is plain that he made the -most fatal admission that upon himself alone hung the possibility—at -least for a long time—of any further men reaching the moon. The line -the cold, inhuman reason of the moon would take seems plain enough to -me, and a suspicion of it, and then perhaps some sudden sharp -realisation of it, must have come to him. One imagines him about the -moon with the remorse of this fatal indiscretion growing in his mind. -During a certain time I am inclined to guess the Grand Lunar was -deliberating the new situation, and for all that time Cavor may have -gone as free as ever he had gone. But obstacles of some sort prevented -his getting to his electromagnetic apparatus again after that message I -have just given. For some days we received nothing. Perhaps he was -having fresh audiences, and trying to evade his previous admissions. -Who can hope to guess? - -And then suddenly, like a cry in the night, like a cry that is followed -by a stillness, came the last message. It is the briefest fragment, the -broken beginnings of two sentences. - -The first was: “I was mad to let the Grand Lunar know—” - -There was an interval of perhaps a minute. One imagines some -interruption from without. A departure from the instrument—a dreadful -hesitation among the looming masses of apparatus in that dim, blue-lit -cavern—a sudden rush back to it, full of a resolve that came too late. -Then, as if it were hastily transmitted came: “Cavorite made as -follows: take—” - -There followed one word, a quite unmeaning word as it stands: “uless.” - -And that is all. - -It may be he made a hasty attempt to spell “useless” when his fate was -close upon him. Whatever it was that was happening about that apparatus -we cannot tell. Whatever it was we shall never, I know, receive another -message from the moon. For my own part a vivid dream has come to my -help, and I see, almost as plainly as though I had seen it in actual -fact, a blue-lit shadowy dishevelled Cavor struggling in the grip of -these insect Selenites, struggling ever more desperately and hopelessly -as they press upon him, shouting, expostulating, perhaps even at last -fighting, and being forced backwards step by step out of all speech or -sign of his fellows, for evermore into the Unknown—into the dark, into -that silence that has no end.... - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON *** - -***** This file should be named 1013-0.txt or 1013-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/1013/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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G. Wells</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The First Men In The Moon</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. G. Wells</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August, 1997 [eBook #1013]<br /> -[Most recently updated: November 13, 2020]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Barry Haworth</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON ***</div> - -<div class="fig" style="width:75%;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> -</div> -<h1>The First Men In The Moon</h1> - -<h2 class="no-break">by H. G. Wells</h2> - -<hr /> - -<h2>Contents</h2> - -<table summary="" style=""> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap01">I. Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap02">II. The First Making of Cavorite</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap03">III. The Building of the sphere</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap04">IV. Inside the Sphere</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap05">V. The Journey to the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap06">VI. The Landing on the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap07">VII. Sunrise on the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap08">VIII. A Lunar Morning</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap09">IX. Prospecting Begins</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap10">X. Lost Men in the Moon</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap11">XI. The Mooncalf Pastures</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap12">XII. The Selenite’s Face</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap13">XIII. Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap14">XIV. Experiments in intercourse</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap15">XV. The Giddy Bridge</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap16">XVI. Points of View</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap17">XVII. The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap18">XVIII. In the Sunlight</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap19">XIX. Mr. Bedford Alone</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap20">XX. Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap21">XXI. Mr. Bedford at Littlestone</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap22">XXII. The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap23">XXIII. An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap24">XXIV. The Natural History of the Selenites</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap25">XXV. The Grand Lunar</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td> <a href="#chap26">XXVI. The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth</a></td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I.<br /> -Mr. Bedford Meets Mr. Cavor at Lympne</h2> - -<p> -As I sit down to write here amidst the shadows of vine-leaves under the blue -sky of southern Italy, it comes to me with a certain quality of astonishment -that my participation in these amazing adventures of Mr. Cavor was, after all, -the outcome of the purest accident. It might have been any one. I fell into -these things at a time when I thought myself removed from the slightest -possibility of disturbing experiences. I had gone to Lympne because I had -imagined it the most uneventful place in the world. “Here, at any -rate,” said I, “I shall find peace and a chance to work!” -</p> - -<p> -And this book is the sequel. So utterly at variance is destiny with all the -little plans of men. I may perhaps mention here that very recently I had come -an ugly cropper in certain business enterprises. Sitting now surrounded by all -the circumstances of wealth, there is a luxury in admitting my extremity. I can -admit, even, that to a certain extent my disasters were conceivably of my own -making. It may be there are directions in which I have some capacity, but the -conduct of business operations is not among these. But in those days I was -young, and my youth among other objectionable forms took that of a pride in my -capacity for affairs. I am young still in years, but the things that have -happened to me have rubbed something of the youth from my mind. Whether they -have brought any wisdom to light below it is a more doubtful matter. -</p> - -<p> -It is scarcely necessary to go into the details of the speculations that landed -me at Lympne, in Kent. Nowadays even about business transactions there is a -strong spice of adventure. I took risks. In these things there is invariably a -certain amount of give and take, and it fell to me finally to do the giving -reluctantly enough. Even when I had got out of everything, one cantankerous -creditor saw fit to be malignant. Perhaps you have met that flaming sense of -outraged virtue, or perhaps you have only felt it. He ran me hard. It seemed to -me, at last, that there was nothing for it but to write a play, unless I wanted -to drudge for my living as a clerk. I have a certain imagination, and luxurious -tastes, and I meant to make a vigorous fight for it before that fate overtook -me. In addition to my belief in my powers as a business man, I had always in -those days had an idea that I was equal to writing a very good play. It is not, -I believe, a very uncommon persuasion. I knew there is nothing a man can do -outside legitimate business transactions that has such opulent possibilities, -and very probably that biased my opinion. I had, indeed, got into the habit of -regarding this unwritten drama as a convenient little reserve put by for a -rainy day. That rainy day had come, and I set to work. -</p> - -<p> -I soon discovered that writing a play was a longer business than I had -supposed; at first I had reckoned ten days for it, and it was to have a -<i>pied-à-terre</i> while it was in hand that I came to Lympne. I reckoned -myself lucky in getting that little bungalow. I got it on a three years’ -agreement. I put in a few sticks of furniture, and while the play was in hand I -did my own cooking. My cooking would have shocked Mrs. Bond. And yet, you know, -it had flavour. I had a coffee-pot, a sauce-pan for eggs, and one for potatoes, -and a frying-pan for sausages and bacon—such was the simple apparatus of -my comfort. One cannot always be magnificent, but simplicity is always a -possible alternative. For the rest I laid in an eighteen-gallon cask of beer on -credit, and a trustful baker came each day. It was not, perhaps, in the style -of Sybaris, but I have had worse times. I was a little sorry for the baker, who -was a very decent man indeed, but even for him I hoped. -</p> - -<p> -Certainly if any one wants solitude, the place is Lympne. It is in the clay -part of Kent, and my bungalow stood on the edge of an old sea cliff and stared -across the flats of Romney Marsh at the sea. In very wet weather the place is -almost inaccessible, and I have heard that at times the postman used to -traverse the more succulent portions of his route with boards upon his feet. I -never saw him doing so, but I can quite imagine it. Outside the doors of the -few cottages and houses that make up the present village big birch besoms are -stuck, to wipe off the worst of the clay, which will give some idea of the -texture of the district. I doubt if the place would be there at all, if it were -not a fading memory of things gone for ever. It was the big port of England in -Roman times, Portus Lemanis, and now the sea is four miles away. All down the -steep hill are boulders and masses of Roman brickwork, and from it old Watling -Street, still paved in places, starts like an arrow to the north. I used to -stand on the hill and think of it all, the galleys and legions, the captives -and officials, the women and traders, the speculators like myself, all the -swarm and tumult that came clanking in and out of the harbour. And now just a -few lumps of rubble on a grassy slope, and a sheep or two—and I. And -where the port had been were the levels of the marsh, sweeping round in a broad -curve to distant Dungeness, and dotted here and there with tree clumps and the -church towers of old mediæval towns that are following Lemanis now towards -extinction. -</p> - -<p> -That outlook on the marsh was, indeed, one of the finest views I have ever -seen. I suppose Dungeness was fifteen miles away; it lay like a raft on the -sea, and farther westward were the hills by Hastings under the setting sun. -Sometimes they hung close and clear, sometimes they were faded and low, and -often the drift of the weather took them clean out of sight. And all the nearer -parts of the marsh were laced and lit by ditches and canals. -</p> - -<p> -The window at which I worked looked over the skyline of this crest, and it was -from this window that I first set eyes on Cavor. It was just as I was -struggling with my scenario, holding down my mind to the sheer hard work of it, -and naturally enough he arrested my attention. -</p> - -<p> -The sun had set, the sky was a vivid tranquillity of green and yellow, and -against that he came out black—the oddest little figure. -</p> - -<p> -He was a short, round-bodied, thin-legged little man, with a jerky quality in -his motions; he had seen fit to clothe his extraordinary mind in a cricket cap, -an overcoat, and cycling knickerbockers and stockings. Why he did so I do not -know, for he never cycled and he never played cricket. It was a fortuitous -concurrence of garments, arising I know not how. He gesticulated with his hands -and arms, and jerked his head about and buzzed. He buzzed like something -electric. You never heard such buzzing. And ever and again he cleared his -throat with a most extraordinary noise. -</p> - -<p> -There had been rain, and that spasmodic walk of his was enhanced by the extreme -slipperiness of the footpath. Exactly as he came against the sun he stopped, -pulled out a watch, hesitated. Then with a sort of convulsive gesture he turned -and retreated with every manifestation of haste, no longer gesticulating, but -going with ample strides that showed the relatively large size of his -feet—they were, I remember, grotesquely exaggerated in size by adhesive -clay—to the best possible advantage. -</p> - -<p> -This occurred on the first day of my sojourn, when my play-writing energy was -at its height and I regarded the incident simply as an annoying -distraction—the waste of five minutes. I returned to my scenario. But -when next evening the apparition was repeated with remarkable precision, and -again the next evening, and indeed every evening when rain was not falling, -concentration upon the scenario became a considerable effort. “Confound -the man,” I said, “one would think he was learning to be a -marionette!” and for several evenings I cursed him pretty heartily. Then -my annoyance gave way to amazement and curiosity. Why on earth should a man do -this thing? On the fourteenth evening I could stand it no longer, and so soon -as he appeared I opened the french window, crossed the verandah, and directed -myself to the point where he invariably stopped. -</p> - -<p> -He had his watch out as I came up to him. He had a chubby, rubicund face with -reddish brown eyes—previously I had seen him only against the light. -“One moment, sir,” said I as he turned. He stared. “One -moment,” he said, “certainly. Or if you wish to speak to me for -longer, and it is not asking too much—your moment is up—would it -trouble you to accompany me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not in the least,” said I, placing myself beside him. -</p> - -<p> -“My habits are regular. My time for intercourse—limited.” -</p> - -<p> -“This, I presume, is your time for exercise?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is. I come here to enjoy the sunset.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sir?” -</p> - -<p> -“You never look at it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never look at it?” -</p> - -<p> -“No. I’ve watched you thirteen nights, and not once have you looked -at the sunset—not once.” -</p> - -<p> -He knitted his brows like one who encounters a problem. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I enjoy the sunlight—the atmosphere—I go along this -path, through that gate”—he jerked his head over his -shoulder—“and round—” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t. You never have been. It’s all nonsense. There -isn’t a way. To-night for instance—” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I had -already been out just three minutes over the precise half-hour, decided there -was not time to go round, turned—” -</p> - -<p> -“You always do.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me—reflected. “Perhaps I do, now I come to think of -it. But what was it you wanted to speak to me about?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, this!” -</p> - -<p> -“This?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise—” -</p> - -<p> -“Making a noise?” -</p> - -<p> -“Like this.” I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me, and it -was evident the buzzing awakened distaste. “Do I do <i>that?</i>” -he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Every blessed evening.” -</p> - -<p> -“I had no idea.” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped dead. He regarded me gravely. “Can it be,” he said, -“that I have formed a Habit?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it looks like it. Doesn’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a puddle at -his feet. -</p> - -<p> -“My mind is much occupied,” he said. “And you want to know -<i>why!</i> Well, sir, I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do -these things, but I did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is just as -you say; I never <i>have</i> been beyond that field.... And these things annoy -you?” -</p> - -<p> -For some reason I was beginning to relent towards him. “Not -<i>annoy</i>,” I said. “But—imagine yourself writing a -play!” -</p> - -<p> -“I couldn’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, anything that needs concentration.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” he said, “of course,” and meditated. His -expression became so eloquent of distress, that I relented still more. After -all, there is a touch of aggression in demanding of a man you don’t know -why he hums on a public footpath. -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” he said weakly, “it’s a habit.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I recognise that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I must stop it.” -</p> - -<p> -“But not if it puts you out. After all, I had no -business—it’s something of a liberty.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all, sir,” he said, “not at all. I am greatly -indebted to you. I should guard myself against these things. In future I will. -Could I trouble you—once again? That noise?” -</p> - -<p> -“Something like this,” I said. “Zuzzoo, zuzzoo. But really, -you know—” -</p> - -<p> -“I am greatly obliged to you. In fact, I know I am getting absurdly -absent-minded. You are quite justified, sir—perfectly justified. Indeed, -I am indebted to you. The thing shall end. And now, sir, I have already brought -you farther than I should have done.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do hope my impertinence—” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all, sir, not at all.” -</p> - -<p> -We regarded each other for a moment. I raised my hat and wished him a good -evening. He responded convulsively, and so we went our ways. -</p> - -<p> -At the stile I looked back at his receding figure. His bearing had changed -remarkably, he seemed limp, shrunken. The contrast with his former -gesticulating, zuzzoing self took me in some absurd way as pathetic. I watched -him out of sight. Then wishing very heartily I had kept to my own business, I -returned to my bungalow and my play. -</p> - -<p> -The next evening I saw nothing of him, nor the next. But he was very much in my -mind, and it had occurred to me that as a sentimental comic character he might -serve a useful purpose in the development of my plot. The third day he called -upon me. -</p> - -<p> -For a time I was puzzled to think what had brought him. He made indifferent -conversation in the most formal way, then abruptly he came to business. He -wanted to buy me out of my bungalow. -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” he said, “I don’t blame you in the least, -but you’ve destroyed a habit, and it disorganises my day. I’ve -walked past here for years—years. No doubt I’ve hummed.... -You’ve made all that impossible!” -</p> - -<p> -I suggested he might try some other direction. -</p> - -<p> -“No. There is no other direction. This is the only one. I’ve -inquired. And now—every afternoon at four—I come to a dead -wall.” -</p> - -<p> -“But, my dear sir, if the thing is so important to you—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s vital. You see, I’m—I’m an -investigator—I am engaged in a scientific research. I live—” -he paused and seemed to think. “Just over there,” he said, and -pointed suddenly dangerously near my eye. “The house with white chimneys -you see just over the trees. And my circumstances are abnormal—abnormal. -I am on the point of completing one of the most -important—demonstrations—I can assure you one of <i>the most -important</i> demonstrations that have ever been made. It requires constant -thought, constant mental ease and activity. And the afternoon was my brightest -time!—effervescing with new ideas—new points of view.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why not come by still?” -</p> - -<p> -“It would be all different. I should be self-conscious. I should think of -you at your play—watching me irritated—instead of thinking of my -work. No! I must have the bungalow.” -</p> - -<p> -I meditated. Naturally, I wanted to think the matter over thoroughly before -anything decisive was said. I was generally ready enough for business in those -days, and selling always attracted me; but in the first place it was not my -bungalow, and even if I sold it to him at a good price I might get -inconvenienced in the delivery of goods if the current owner got wind of the -transaction, and in the second I was, well—undischarged. It was clearly a -business that required delicate handling. Moreover, the possibility of his -being in pursuit of some valuable invention also interested me. It occurred to -me that I would like to know more of this research, not with any dishonest -intention, but simply with an idea that to know what it was would be a relief -from play-writing. I threw out feelers. -</p> - -<p> -He was quite willing to supply information. Indeed, once he was fairly under -way the conversation became a monologue. He talked like a man long pent up, who -has had it over with himself again and again. He talked for nearly an hour, and -I must confess I found it a pretty stiff bit of listening. But through it all -there was the undertone of satisfaction one feels when one is neglecting work -one has set oneself. During that first interview I gathered very little of the -drift of his work. Half his words were technicalities entirely strange to me, -and he illustrated one or two points with what he was pleased to call -elementary mathematics, computing on an envelope with a copying-ink pencil, in -a manner that made it hard even to seem to understand. “Yes,” I -said, “yes. Go on!” Nevertheless I made out enough to convince me -that he was no mere crank playing at discoveries. In spite of his crank-like -appearance there was a force about him that made that impossible. Whatever it -was, it was a thing with mechanical possibilities. He told me of a work-shed he -had, and of three assistants—originally jobbing carpenters—whom he -had trained. Now, from the work-shed to the patent office is clearly only one -step. He invited me to see those things. I accepted readily, and took care, by -a remark or so, to underline that. The proposed transfer of the bungalow -remained very conveniently in suspense. -</p> - -<p> -At last he rose to depart, with an apology for the length of his call. Talking -over his work was, he said, a pleasure enjoyed only too rarely. It was not -often he found such an intelligent listener as myself, he mingled very little -with professional scientific men. -</p> - -<p> -“So much pettiness,” he explained; “so much intrigue! And -really, when one has an idea—a novel, fertilising idea—I -don’t want to be uncharitable, but—” -</p> - -<p> -I am a man who believes in impulses. I made what was perhaps a rash -proposition. But you must remember, that I had been alone, play-writing in -Lympne, for fourteen days, and my compunction for his ruined walk still hung -about me. “Why not,” said I, “make this your new habit? In -the place of the one I spoilt? At least, until we can settle about the -bungalow. What you want is to turn over your work in your mind. That you have -always done during your afternoon walk. Unfortunately that’s -over—you can’t get things back as they were. But why not come and -talk about your work to me; use me as a sort of wall against which you may -throw your thoughts and catch them again? It’s certain I don’t know -enough to steal your ideas myself—and I know no scientific -men—” -</p> - -<p> -I stopped. He was considering. Evidently the thing attracted him. “But -I’m afraid I should bore you,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“You think I’m too dull?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, no; but technicalities—” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow, you’ve interested me immensely this afternoon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course it <i>would</i> be a great help to me. Nothing clears up -one’s ideas so much as explaining them. Hitherto—” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear sir, say no more.” -</p> - -<p> -“But really can you spare the time?” -</p> - -<p> -“There is no rest like change of occupation,” I said, with profound -conviction. -</p> - -<p> -The affair was over. On my verandah steps he turned. “I am already -greatly indebted to you,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -I made an interrogative noise. -</p> - -<p> -“You have completely cured me of that ridiculous habit of humming,” -he explained. -</p> - -<p> -I think I said I was glad to be of any service to him, and he turned away. -</p> - -<p> -Immediately the train of thought that our conversation had suggested must have -resumed its sway. His arms began to wave in their former fashion. The faint -echo of “zuzzoo” came back to me on the breeze.... -</p> - -<p> -Well, after all, that was not my affair.... -</p> - -<p> -He came the next day, and again the next day after that, and delivered two -lectures on physics to our mutual satisfaction. He talked with an air of being -extremely lucid about the “ether” and “tubes of force,” -and “gravitational potential,” and things like that, and I sat in -my other folding-chair and said, “Yes,” “Go on,” -“I follow you,” to keep him going. It was tremendously difficult -stuff, but I do not think he ever suspected how much I did not understand him. -There were moments when I doubted whether I was well employed, but at any rate -I was resting from that confounded play. Now and then things gleamed on me -clearly for a space, only to vanish just when I thought I had hold of them. -Sometimes my attention failed altogether, and I would give it up and sit and -stare at him, wondering whether, after all, it would not be better to use him -as a central figure in a good farce and let all this other stuff slide. And -then, perhaps, I would catch on again for a bit. -</p> - -<p> -At the earliest opportunity I went to see his house. It was large and -carelessly furnished; there were no servants other than his three assistants, -and his dietary and private life were characterised by a philosophical -simplicity. He was a water-drinker, a vegetarian, and all those logical -disciplinary things. But the sight of his equipment settled many doubts. It -looked like business from cellar to attic—an amazing little place to find -in an out-of-the-way village. The ground-floor rooms contained benches and -apparatus, the bakehouse and scullery boiler had developed into respectable -furnaces, dynamos occupied the cellar, and there was a gasometer in the garden. -He showed it to me with all the confiding zest of a man who has been living too -much alone. His seclusion was overflowing now in an excess of confidence, and I -had the good luck to be the recipient. -</p> - -<p> -The three assistants were creditable specimens of the class of -“handy-men” from which they came. Conscientious if unintelligent, -strong, civil, and willing. One, Spargus, who did the cooking and all the metal -work, had been a sailor; a second, Gibbs, was a joiner; and the third was an -ex-jobbing gardener, and now general assistant. They were the merest labourers. -All the intelligent work was done by Cavor. Theirs was the darkest ignorance -compared even with my muddled impression. -</p> - -<p> -And now, as to the nature of these inquiries. Here, unhappily, comes a grave -difficulty. I am no scientific expert, and if I were to attempt to set forth in -the highly scientific language of Mr. Cavor the aim to which his experiments -tended, I am afraid I should confuse not only the reader but myself, and almost -certainly I should make some blunder that would bring upon me the mockery of -every up-to-date student of mathematical physics in the country. The best thing -I can do therefore is, I think to give my impressions in my own inexact -language, without any attempt to wear a garment of knowledge to which I have no -claim. -</p> - -<p> -The object of Mr. Cavor’s search was a substance that should be -“opaque”—he used some other word I have forgotten, but -“opaque” conveys the idea—to “all forms of radiant -energy.” “Radiant energy,” he made me understand, was -anything like light or heat, or those Rontgen Rays there was so much talk about -a year or so ago, or the electric waves of Marconi, or gravitation. All these -things, he said, <i>radiate</i> out from centres, and act on bodies at a -distance, whence comes the term “radiant energy.” Now almost all -substances are opaque to some form or other of radiant energy. Glass, for -example, is transparent to light, but much less so to heat, so that it is -useful as a fire-screen; and alum is transparent to light, but blocks heat -completely. A solution of iodine in carbon bisulphide, on the other hand, -completely blocks light, but is quite transparent to heat. It will hide a fire -from you, but permit all its warmth to reach you. Metals are not only opaque to -light and heat, but also to electrical energy, which passes through both iodine -solution and glass almost as though they were not interposed. And so on. -</p> - -<p> -Now all known substances are “transparent” to gravitation. You can -use screens of various sorts to cut off the light or heat, or electrical -influence of the sun, or the warmth of the earth from anything; you can screen -things by sheets of metal from Marconi’s rays, but nothing will cut off -the gravitational attraction of the sun or the gravitational attraction of the -earth. Yet why there should be nothing is hard to say. Cavor did not see why -such a substance should not exist, and certainly I could not tell him. I had -never thought of such a possibility before. He showed me by calculations on -paper, which Lord Kelvin, no doubt, or Professor Lodge, or Professor Karl -Pearson, or any of those great scientific people might have understood, but -which simply reduced me to a hopeless muddle, that not only was such a -substance possible, but that it must satisfy certain conditions. It was an -amazing piece of reasoning. Much as it amazed and exercised me at the time, it -would be impossible to reproduce it here. “Yes,” I said to it all, -“yes; go on!” Suffice it for this story that he believed he might -be able to manufacture this possible substance opaque to gravitation out of a -complicated alloy of metals and something new—a new element, I -fancy—called, I believe, <i>helium</i>, which was sent to him from London -in sealed stone jars. Doubt has been thrown upon this detail, but I am almost -certain it was <i>helium</i> he had sent him in sealed stone jars. It was -certainly something very gaseous and thin. If only I had taken notes... -</p> - -<p> -But then, how was I to foresee the necessity of taking notes? -</p> - -<p> -Any one with the merest germ of an imagination will understand the -extraordinary possibilities of such a substance, and will sympathise a little -with the emotion I felt as this understanding emerged from the haze of abstruse -phrases in which Cavor expressed himself. Comic relief in a play indeed! It was -some time before I would believe that I had interpreted him aright, and I was -very careful not to ask questions that would have enabled him to gauge the -profundity of misunderstanding into which he dropped his daily exposition. But -no one reading the story of it here will sympathise fully, because from my -barren narrative it will be impossible to gather the strength of my conviction -that this astonishing substance was positively going to be made. -</p> - -<p> -I do not recall that I gave my play an hour’s consecutive work at any -time after my visit to his house. My imagination had other things to do. There -seemed no limit to the possibilities of the stuff; whichever way I tried I came -on miracles and revolutions. For example, if one wanted to lift a weight, -however enormous, one had only to get a sheet of this substance beneath it, and -one might lift it with a straw. My first natural impulse was to apply this -principle to guns and ironclads, and all the material and methods of war, and -from that to shipping, locomotion, building, every conceivable form of human -industry. The chance that had brought me into the very birth-chamber of this -new time—it was an epoch, no less—was one of those chances that -come once in a thousand years. The thing unrolled, it expanded and expanded. -Among other things I saw in it my redemption as a business man. I saw a parent -company, and daughter companies, applications to right of us, applications to -left, rings and trusts, privileges, and concessions spreading and spreading, -until one vast, stupendous Cavorite company ran and ruled the world. -</p> - -<p> -And I was in it! -</p> - -<p> -I took my line straight away. I knew I was staking everything, but I jumped -there and then. -</p> - -<p> -“We’re on absolutely the biggest thing that has ever been -invented,” I said, and put the accent on “we.” “If you -want to keep me out of this, you’ll have to do it with a gun. I’m -coming down to be your fourth labourer to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -He seemed surprised at my enthusiasm, but not a bit suspicious or hostile. -Rather, he was self-depreciatory. He looked at me doubtfully. “But do you -really think—?” he said. “And your play! How about that -play?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s vanished!” I cried. “My dear sir, don’t you -see what you’ve got? Don’t you see what you’re going to -do?” -</p> - -<p> -That was merely a rhetorical turn, but positively, he didn’t. At first I -could not believe it. He had not had the beginning of the inkling of an idea. -This astonishing little man had been working on purely theoretical grounds the -whole time! When he said it was “the most important” research the -world had ever seen, he simply meant it squared up so many theories, settled so -much that was in doubt; he had troubled no more about the application of the -stuff he was going to turn out than if he had been a machine that makes guns. -This was a possible substance, and he was going to make it! <i>V’la -tout</i>, as the Frenchman says. -</p> - -<p> -Beyond that, he was childish! If he made it, it would go down to posterity as -Cavorite or Cavorine, and he would be made an F.R.S., and his portrait given -away as a scientific worthy with <i>Nature</i>, and things like that. And that -was all he saw! He would have dropped this bombshell into the world as though -he had discovered a new species of gnat, if it had not happened that I had come -along. And there it would have lain and fizzled, like one or two other little -things these scientific people have lit and dropped about us. -</p> - -<p> -When I realised this, it was I did the talking, and Cavor who said, “Go -on!” I jumped up. I paced the room, gesticulating like a boy of twenty. I -tried to make him understand his duties and responsibilities in the -matter—<i>our</i> duties and responsibilities in the matter. I assured -him we might make wealth enough to work any sort of social revolution we -fancied, we might own and order the whole world. I told him of companies and -patents, and the case for secret processes. All these things seemed to take him -much as his mathematics had taken me. A look of perplexity came into his ruddy -little face. He stammered something about indifference to wealth, but I brushed -all that aside. He had got to be rich, and it was no good his stammering. I -gave him to understand the sort of man I was, and that I had had very -considerable business experience. I did not tell him I was an undischarged -bankrupt at the time, because that was temporary, but I think I reconciled my -evident poverty with my financial claims. And quite insensibly, in the way such -projects grow, the understanding of a Cavorite monopoly grew up between us. He -was to make the stuff, and I was to make the boom. -</p> - -<p> -I stuck like a leech to the “we”—“you” and -“I” didn’t exist for me. -</p> - -<p> -His idea was that the profits I spoke of might go to endow research, but that, -of course, was a matter we had to settle later. “That’s all -right,” I shouted, “that’s all right.” The great point, -as I insisted, was to get the thing done. -</p> - -<p> -“Here is a substance,” I cried, “no home, no factory, no -fortress, no ship can dare to be without—more universally applicable even -than a patent medicine. There isn’t a solitary aspect of it, not one of -its ten thousand possible uses that will not make us rich, Cavor, beyond the -dreams of avarice!” -</p> - -<p> -“No!” he said. “I begin to see. It’s extraordinary how -one gets new points of view by talking over things!” -</p> - -<p> -“And as it happens you have just talked to the right man!” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose no one,” he said, “is absolutely <i>averse</i> to -enormous wealth. Of course there is one thing—” -</p> - -<p> -He paused. I stood still. -</p> - -<p> -“It is just possible, you know, that we may not be able to make it after -all! It may be one of those things that are a theoretical possibility, but a -practical absurdity. Or when we make it, there may be some little hitch!” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll tackle the hitch when it comes,” said I. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II.<br /> -The First Making of Cavorite</h2> - -<p> -But Cavor’s fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was -concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was made! -</p> - -<p> -Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least expected -it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other things—I -wish I knew the particulars now!—and he intended to leave the mixture a -week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had miscalculated, the last -stage in the combination would occur when the stuff sank to a temperature of 60 -degrees Fahrenheit. But it chanced that, unknown to Cavor, dissension had -arisen about the furnace tending. Gibbs, who had previously seen to this, had -suddenly attempted to shift it to the man who had been a gardener, on the score -that coal was soil, being dug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the -province of a joiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, however, -that coal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that he was cook. But -Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was a joiner and -that coal is notoriously fossil wood. Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish -the furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor was too much immersed in certain -interesting problems concerning a Cavorite flying machine (neglecting the -resistance of the air and one or two other points) to perceive that anything -was wrong. And the premature birth of his invention took place just as he was -coming across the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea. -</p> - -<p> -I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, and -everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought -me out upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against the -autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just rose above a -gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden Hills, faint and -blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out spacious and serene. And -then— -</p> - -<p> -The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as they rose, -and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then overtaking them came -a huge white flame. The trees about the building swayed and whirled and tore -themselves to pieces, that sprang towards the flare. My ears were smitten with -a clap of thunder that left me deaf on one side for life, and all about me -windows smashed, unheeded. -</p> - -<p> -I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even as I -did so came the wind. -</p> - -<p> -Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in great leaps -and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the same moment the -discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through the screaming air. I saw -one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six yards of me, leap a score of -feet, and so hurry in great strides towards the focus of the disturbance. -Cavor, kicking and flapping, came down again, rolled over and over on the -ground for a space, struggled up and was lifted and borne forward at an -enormous velocity, vanishing at last among the labouring, lashing trees that -writhed about his house. -</p> - -<p> -A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance rushed up -towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing past me, dropped -edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the worst was over. The aerial -commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere strong gale, and I became once more -aware that I had breath and feet. By leaning back against the wind I managed to -stop, and could collect such wits as still remained to me. -</p> - -<p> -In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil sunset -had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything was flattened -and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my bungalow was still in a -general way standing, then staggered forwards towards the trees amongst which -Cavor had vanished, and through whose tall and leaf-denuded branches shone the -flames of his burning house. -</p> - -<p> -I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to them, and -for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of smashed branches and -fencing that had banked itself against a portion of his garden wall I perceived -something stir. I made a run for this, but before I reached it a brown object -separated itself, rose on two muddy legs, and protruded two drooping, bleeding -hands. Some tattered ends of garment fluttered out from its middle portion and -streamed before the wind. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that it was -Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward against the -wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth. -</p> - -<p> -He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His face -worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He looked as -damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, and his remark -therefore amazed me exceedingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Gratulate me,” he gasped; “gratulate me!” -</p> - -<p> -“Congratulate you!” said I. “Good heavens! What for?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve done it.” -</p> - -<p> -“You <i>have</i>. What on earth caused that explosion?” -</p> - -<p> -A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it -wasn’t an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, -and we stood clinging to one another. -</p> - -<p> -“Try and get back—to my bungalow,” I bawled in his ear. He -did not hear me, and shouted something about “three -martyrs—science,” and also something about “not much -good.” At the time he laboured under the impression that his three -attendants had perished in the whirlwind. Happily this was incorrect. Directly -he had left for my bungalow they had gone off to the public-house in Lympne to -discuss the question of the furnaces over some trivial refreshment. -</p> - -<p> -I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time he -understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to reach the -shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat in arm-chairs and -panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter articles of furniture were -in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage was done. Happily the kitchen door -had stood the pressure upon it, so that all my crockery and cooking materials -had survived. The oil stove was still burning, and I put on the water to boil -again for tea. And that prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation. -</p> - -<p> -“Quite correct,” he insisted; “quite correct. I’ve done -it, and it’s all right.” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” I protested. “All right! Why, there can’t be a -rick standing, or a fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles -round....” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s all right—<i>really</i>. I didn’t, of course, -foresee this little upset. My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and -I’m apt to disregard these practical side issues. But it’s all -right—” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear sir,” I cried, “don’t you see you’ve -done thousands of pounds’ worth of damage?” -</p> - -<p> -“There, I throw myself on your discretion. I’m not a practical man, -of course, but don’t you think they will regard it as a cyclone?” -</p> - -<p> -“But the explosion—” -</p> - -<p> -“It was <i>not</i> an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. Only, as I -say, I’m apt to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo -business on a larger scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this -Cavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....” -</p> - -<p> -He paused. “You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to gravitation, -that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each other?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” said I. “Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and -the process of its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the portions of -roof and ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. I suppose you -know—everybody knows nowadays—that, as a usual thing, the air -<i>has</i> weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the earth, -presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a half pounds to the -square inch?” -</p> - -<p> -“I know that,” said I. “Go on.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know that too,” he remarked. “Only this shows you how -useless knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this -ceased to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and the air -round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of fourteen pounds -and a half to the square inch upon this suddenly weightless air. Ah! you begin -to see! The air all about the Cavorite crushed in upon the air above it with -irresistible force. The air above the Cavorite was forced upward violently, the -air that rushed in to replace it immediately lost weight, ceased to exert any -pressure, followed suit, blew the ceiling through and the roof off.... -</p> - -<p> -“You perceive,” he said, “it formed a sort of atmospheric -fountain, a kind of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself -hadn’t been loose and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you -what would have happened?” -</p> - -<p> -I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up -and up over that infernal piece of stuff now.” -</p> - -<p> -“Precisely,” he said. “A huge fountain—” -</p> - -<p> -“Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the -atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It would -have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff!” -</p> - -<p> -“Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but as -bad—practically. It would have whipped the air off the world as one peels -a banana, and flung it thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of -course—but on an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little -better than if it never came back!” -</p> - -<p> -I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations had been -upset. “What do you mean to do now?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some of -this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself of your -domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will converse more at -leisure. It will be wise, I think”—he laid a muddy hand on my -arm—“if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I know I -have caused great damage—probably even dwelling-houses may be ruined here -and there upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I cannot possibly pay -for the damage I have done, and if the real cause of this is published, it will -lead only to heartburning and the obstruction of my work. One cannot foresee -<i>everything</i>, you know, and I cannot consent for one moment to add the -burthen of practical considerations to my theorising. Later on, when you have -come in with your practical mind, and Cavorite is floated—floated -<i>is</i> the word, isn’t it?—and it has realised all you -anticipate for it, we may set matters right with these persons. But not -now—not now. If no other explanation is offered, people, in the present -unsatisfactory state of meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a -cyclone; there might be a public subscription, and as my house has collapsed -and been burnt, I should in that case receive a considerable share in the -compensation, which would be extremely helpful to the prosecution of our -researches. But if it is known that <i>I</i> caused this, there will be no -public subscription, and everybody will be put out. Practically I should never -get a chance of working in peace again. My three assistants may or may not have -perished. That is a detail. If they have, it is no great loss; they were more -zealous than able, and this premature event must be largely due to their joint -neglect of the furnace. If they have not perished, I doubt if they have the -intelligence to explain the affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And if -during the temporary unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one -of the untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours—” -</p> - -<p> -He paused and regarded me. -</p> - -<p> -A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to entertain. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps,” said I, rising to my feet, “we had better begin by -looking for a trowel,” and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the -greenhouse. -</p> - -<p> -And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question alone. It was -clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s society I had not foreseen. The -absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating the terrestrial globe, -might at any moment result in some other grave inconvenience. On the other hand -I was young, my affairs were in a mess, and I was in just the mood for reckless -adventure—with a chance of something good at the end of it. I had quite -settled in my mind that I was to have half at least in that aspect of the -affair. Fortunately I held my bungalow, as I have already explained, on a -three-year agreement, without being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, -such as there was of it, had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, insured, -and altogether devoid of associations. In the end I decided to keep on with -him, and see the business through. -</p> - -<p> -Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer doubted at -all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began to have doubts -about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to work at once to -reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our experiments. Cavor talked more -on my level than he had ever done before, when it came to the question of how -we should make the stuff next. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a sort of glee I -had not expected in him, “of course we must make it again. We have caught -a Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good and all. -If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, we will. -But—there <i>must</i> be risks! There must be. In experimental work there -always are. And here, as a practical man, <i>you</i> must come in. For my own -part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very thin. Yet I -don’t know. I have a certain dim perception of another method. I can -hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into my mind, while I was -rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, and very doubtful how the -whole adventure was to end, as being absolutely the thing I ought to have -done.” -</p> - -<p> -Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept at work -restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it became absolutely -necessary to decide upon the precise form and method of our second attempt. Our -only hitch was the strike of the three labourers, who objected to my activity -as a foreman. But that matter we compromised after two days’ delay. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III.<br /> -The Building of the sphere</h2> - -<p> -I remember the occasion very distinctly when Cavor told me of his idea of the -sphere. He had had intimations of it before, but at the time it seemed to come -to him in a rush. We were returning to the bungalow for tea, and on the way he -fell humming. Suddenly he shouted, “That’s it! That finishes it! A -sort of roller blind!” -</p> - -<p> -“Finishes what?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Space—anywhere! The moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“Mean? Why—it must be a sphere! That’s what I mean!” -</p> - -<p> -I saw I was out of it, and for a time I let him talk in his own fashion. I -hadn’t the ghost of an idea then of his drift. But after he had taken tea -he made it clear to me. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s like this,” he said. “Last time I ran this stuff -that cuts things off from gravitation into a flat tank with an overlap that -held it down. And directly it had cooled and the manufacture was completed all -that uproar happened, nothing above it weighed anything, the air went squirting -up, the house squirted up, and if the stuff itself hadn’t squirted up -too, I don’t know what would have happened! But suppose the substance is -loose, and quite free to go up?” -</p> - -<p> -“It will go up at once!” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly. With no more disturbance than firing a big gun.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what good will that do?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m going up with it!” -</p> - -<p> -I put down my teacup and stared at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Imagine a sphere,” he explained, “large enough to hold two -people and their luggage. It will be made of steel lined with thick glass; it -will contain a proper store of solidified air, concentrated food, water -distilling apparatus, and so forth. And enamelled, as it were, on the outer -steel—” -</p> - -<p> -“Cavorite?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how will you get inside?” -</p> - -<p> -“There was a similar problem about a dumpling.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I know. But how?” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s perfectly easy. An air-tight manhole is all that is needed. -That, of course, will have to be a little complicated; there will have to be a -valve, so that things may be thrown out, if necessary, without much loss of -air.” -</p> - -<p> -“Like Jules Verne’s thing in <i>A Trip to the Moon</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -But Cavor was not a reader of fiction. -</p> - -<p> -“I begin to see,” I said slowly. “And you could get in and -screw yourself up while the Cavorite was warm, and as soon as it cooled it -would become impervious to gravitation, and off you would fly—” -</p> - -<p> -“At a tangent.” -</p> - -<p> -“You would go off in a straight line—” I stopped abruptly. -“What is to prevent the thing travelling in a straight line into space -for ever?” I asked. “You’re not safe to get anywhere, and if -you do—how will you get back?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve just thought of that,” said Cavor. “That’s -what I meant when I said the thing is finished. The inner glass sphere can be -air-tight, and, except for the manhole, continuous, and the steel sphere can be -made in sections, each section capable of rolling up after the fashion of a -roller blind. These can easily be worked by springs, and released and checked -by electricity conveyed by platinum wires fused through the glass. All that is -merely a question of detail. So you see, that except for the thickness of the -blind rollers, the Cavorite exterior of the sphere will consist of windows or -blinds, whichever you like to call them. Well, when all these windows or blinds -are shut, no light, no heat, no gravitation, no radiant energy of any sort will -get at the inside of the sphere, it will fly on through space in a straight -line, as you say. But open a window, imagine one of the windows open. Then at -once any heavy body that chances to be in that direction will attract -us—” -</p> - -<p> -I sat taking it in. -</p> - -<p> -“You see?” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I <i>see</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“Practically we shall be able to tack about in space just as we wish. Get -attracted by this and that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes. <i>That’s</i> clear enough. Only—” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t quite see what we shall do it for! It’s really only -jumping off the world and back again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Surely! For example, one might go to the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“And when one got there? What would you find?” -</p> - -<p> -“We should see—Oh! consider the new knowledge.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there air there?” -</p> - -<p> -“There may be.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a fine idea,” I said, “but it strikes me as a -large order all the same. The moon! I’d much rather try some smaller -things first.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re out of the question, because of the air difficulty.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not apply that idea of spring blinds—Cavorite blinds in strong -steel cases—to lifting weights?” -</p> - -<p> -“It wouldn’t work,” he insisted. “After all, to go into -outer space is not so much worse, if at all, than a polar expedition. Men go on -polar expeditions.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not business men. And besides, they get paid for polar expeditions. And -if anything goes wrong there are relief parties. But this—it’s just -firing ourselves off the world for nothing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Call it prospecting.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll have to call it that.... One might make a book of it -perhaps,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“I have no doubt there will be minerals,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“For example?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! sulphur, ores, gold perhaps, possibly new elements.” -</p> - -<p> -“Cost of carriage,” I said. “You know you’re -<i>not</i> a practical man. The moon’s a quarter of a million miles -away.” -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to me it wouldn’t cost much to cart any weight anywhere -if you packed it in a Cavorite case.” -</p> - -<p> -I had not thought of that. “Delivered free on head of purchaser, -eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t as though we were confined to the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s Mars—clear atmosphere, novel surroundings, -exhilarating sense of lightness. It might be pleasant to go there.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there air on Mars?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“Seems as though you might run it as a sanatorium. By the way, how far is -Mars?” -</p> - -<p> -“Two hundred million miles at present,” said Cavor airily; -“and you go close by the sun.” -</p> - -<p> -My imagination was picking itself up again. “After all,” I said, -“there’s something in these things. There’s -travel—” -</p> - -<p> -An extraordinary possibility came rushing into my mind. Suddenly I saw, as in a -vision, the whole solar system threaded with Cavorite liners and spheres -<i>de luxe</i>. “Rights of pre-emption,” came floating into my -head—planetary rights of pre-emption. I recalled the old Spanish monopoly -in American gold. It wasn’t as though it was just this planet or -that—it was all of them. I stared at Cavor’s rubicund face, and -suddenly my imagination was leaping and dancing. I stood up, I walked up and -down; my tongue was unloosened. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m beginning to take it in,” I said; “I’m -beginning to take it in.” The transition from doubt to enthusiasm seemed -to take scarcely any time at all. “But this is tremendous!” I -cried. “This is Imperial! I haven’t been dreaming of this sort of -thing.” -</p> - -<p> -Once the chill of my opposition was removed, his own pent-up excitement had -play. He too got up and paced. He too gesticulated and shouted. We behaved like -men inspired. We <i>were</i> men inspired. -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll settle all that!” he said in answer to some incidental -difficulty that had pulled me up. “We’ll soon settle that! -We’ll start the drawings for mouldings this very night.” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll start them now,” I responded, and we hurried off to -the laboratory to begin upon this work forthwith. -</p> - -<p> -I was like a child in Wonderland all that night. The dawn found us both still -at work—we kept our electric light going heedless of the day. I remember -now exactly how these drawings looked. I shaded and tinted while Cavor -drew—smudged and haste-marked they were in every line, but wonderfully -correct. We got out the orders for the steel blinds and frames we needed from -that night’s work, and the glass sphere was designed within a week. We -gave up our afternoon conversations and our old routine altogether. We worked, -and we slept and ate when we could work no longer for hunger and fatigue. Our -enthusiasm infected even our three men, though they had no idea what the sphere -was for. Through those days the man Gibbs gave up walking, and went everywhere, -even across the room, at a sort of fussy run. -</p> - -<p> -And it grew—the sphere. December passed, January—I spent a day with -a broom sweeping a path through the snow from bungalow to -laboratory—February, March. By the end of March the completion was in -sight. In January had come a team of horses, a huge packing-case; we had our -thick glass sphere now ready, and in position under the crane we had rigged to -sling it into the steel shell. All the bars and blinds of the steel -shell—it was not really a spherical shell, but polyhedral, with a roller -blind to each facet—had arrived by February, and the lower half was -bolted together. The Cavorite was half made by March, the metallic paste had -gone through two of the stages in its manufacture, and we had plastered quite -half of it on to the steel bars and blinds. It was astonishing how closely we -kept to the lines of Cavor’s first inspiration in working out the scheme. -When the bolting together of the sphere was finished, he proposed to remove the -rough roof of the temporary laboratory in which the work was done, and build a -furnace about it. So the last stage of Cavorite making, in which the paste is -heated to a dull red glow in a stream of helium, would be accomplished when it -was already on the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -And then we had to discuss and decide what provisions we were to -take—compressed foods, concentrated essences, steel cylinders containing -reserve oxygen, an arrangement for removing carbonic acid and waste from the -air and restoring oxygen by means of sodium peroxide, water condensers, and so -forth. I remember the little heap they made in the corner—tins, and -rolls, and boxes—convincingly matter-of-fact. -</p> - -<p> -It was a strenuous time, with little chance of thinking. But one day, when we -were drawing near the end, an odd mood came over me. I had been bricking up the -furnace all the morning, and I sat down by these possessions dead beat. -Everything seemed dull and incredible. -</p> - -<p> -“But look here, Cavor,” I said. “After all! What’s it -all for?” -</p> - -<p> -He smiled. “The thing now is to go.” -</p> - -<p> -“The moon,” I reflected. “But what do you expect? I thought -the moon was a dead world.” -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“We’re going to see.” -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Are</i> we?” I said, and stared before me. -</p> - -<p> -“You are tired,” he remarked. “You’d better take a walk -this afternoon.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said obstinately; “I’m going to finish this -brickwork.” -</p> - -<p> -And I did, and insured myself a night of insomnia. I don’t think I have -ever had such a night. I had some bad times before my business collapse, but -the very worst of those was sweet slumber compared to this infinity of aching -wakefulness. I was suddenly in the most enormous funk at the thing we were -going to do. -</p> - -<p> -I do not remember before that night thinking at all of the risks we were -running. Now they came like that array of spectres that once beleaguered -Prague, and camped around me. The strangeness of what we were about to do, the -unearthliness of it, overwhelmed me. I was like a man awakened out of pleasant -dreams to the most horrible surroundings. I lay, eyes wide open, and the sphere -seemed to get more flimsy and feeble, and Cavor more unreal and fantastic, and -the whole enterprise madder and madder every moment. -</p> - -<p> -I got out of bed and wandered about. I sat at the window and stared at the -immensity of space. Between the stars was the void, the unfathomable darkness! -I tried to recall the fragmentary knowledge of astronomy I had gained in my -irregular reading, but it was all too vague to furnish any idea of the things -we might expect. At last I got back to bed and snatched some moments of -sleep—moments of nightmare rather—in which I fell and fell and fell -for evermore into the abyss of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -I astonished Cavor at breakfast. I told him shortly, “I’m not -coming with you in the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -I met all his protests with a sullen persistence. “The thing’s too -mad,” I said, “and I won’t come. The thing’s too -mad.” -</p> - -<p> -I would not go with him to the laboratory. I fretted about my bungalow for a -time, and then took hat and stick and set out alone, I knew not whither. It -chanced to be a glorious morning: a warm wind and deep blue sky, the first -green of spring abroad, and multitudes of birds singing. I lunched on beef and -beer in a little public-house near Elham, and startled the landlord by -remarking <i>apropos</i> of the weather, “A man who leaves the world when -days of this sort are about is a fool!” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s what I says when I heerd on it!” said the landlord, -and I found that for one poor soul at least this world had proved excessive, -and there had been a throat-cutting. I went on with a new twist to my thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -In the afternoon I had a pleasant sleep in a sunny place, and went on my way -refreshed. -</p> - -<p> -I came to a comfortable-looking inn near Canterbury. It was bright with -creepers, and the landlady was a clean old woman and took my eye. I found I had -just enough money to pay for my lodging with her. I decided to stop the night -there. She was a talkative body, and among many other particulars I learnt she -had never been to London. “Canterbury’s as far as ever I -been,” she said. “I’m not one of your gad-about sort.” -</p> - -<p> -“How would you like a trip to the moon?” I cried. -</p> - -<p> -“I never did hold with them ballooneys,” she said evidently under -the impression that this was a common excursion enough. “I wouldn’t -go up in one—not for ever so.” -</p> - -<p> -This struck me as being funny. After I had supped I sat on a bench by the door -of the inn and gossiped with two labourers about brickmaking, and motor cars, -and the cricket of last year. And in the sky a faint new crescent, blue and -vague as a distant Alp, sank westward over the sun. -</p> - -<p> -The next day I returned to Cavor. “I am coming,” I said. -“I’ve been a little out of order, that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -That was the only time I felt any serious doubt our enterprise. Nerves purely! -After that I worked a little more carefully, and took a trudge for an hour -every day. And at last, save for the heating in the furnace, our labours were -at an end. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV.<br /> -Inside the Sphere</h2> - -<p> -“Go on,” said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and -looked down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. It was -evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was upon -everything. -</p> - -<p> -I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom of the -sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other impedimenta from Cavor. -The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at eighty, and as we should lose -little or none of this by radiation, we were dressed in shoes and thin -flannels. We had, however, a bundle of thick woollen clothing and several thick -blankets to guard against mischance. -</p> - -<p> -By Cavor’s direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, and -so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He walked about -the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had overlooked, and then -crawled in after me. I noted something in his hand. -</p> - -<p> -“What have you got there?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Haven’t you brought anything to read?” -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord! No.” -</p> - -<p> -“I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties— The voyage may -last— We may be weeks!” -</p> - -<p> -“But—” -</p> - -<p> -“We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no -occupation.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish I’d known—” -</p> - -<p> -He peered out of the manhole. “Look!” he said. “There’s -something there!” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there time?” -</p> - -<p> -“We shall be an hour.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked out. It was an old number of <i>Tit-Bits</i> that one of the men must -have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn <i>Lloyd’s -News</i>. I scrambled back into the sphere with these things. “What have -you got?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -I took the book from his hand and read, “The Works of William -Shakespeare”. -</p> - -<p> -He coloured slightly. “My education has been so purely -scientific—” he said apologetically. -</p> - -<p> -“Never read him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Never.” -</p> - -<p> -“He knew a little, you know—in an irregular sort of way.” -</p> - -<p> -“Precisely what I am told,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he pressed -a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The little oblong of -twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time neither of us spoke. -Although our case would not be impervious to sound, everything was very still. -I perceived there was nothing to grip when the shock of our start should come, -and I realised that I should be uncomfortable for want of a chair. -</p> - -<p> -“Why have we no chairs?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve settled all that,” said Cavor. “We won’t -need them.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“You will see,” he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to talk. -</p> - -<p> -I became silent. Suddenly it had come to me clear and vivid that I was a fool -to be inside that sphere. Even now, I asked myself, is to too late to withdraw? -The world outside the sphere, I knew, would be cold and inhospitable enough for -me—for weeks I had been living on subsidies from Cavor—but after -all, would it be as cold as the infinite zero, as inhospitable as empty space? -If it had not been for the appearance of cowardice, I believe that even then I -should have made him let me out. But I hesitated on that score, and hesitated, -and grew fretful and angry, and the time passed. -</p> - -<p> -There came a little jerk, a noise like champagne being uncorked in another -room, and a faint whistling sound. For just one instant I had a sense of -enormous tension, a transient conviction that my feet were pressing downward -with a force of countless tons. It lasted for an infinitesimal time. -</p> - -<p> -But it stirred me to action. “Cavor!” I said into the darkness, -“my nerve’s in rags. I don’t think—” -</p> - -<p> -I stopped. He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I cried; “I’m a fool! What business have -I here? I’m not coming, Cavor. The thing’s too risky. I’m -getting out.” -</p> - -<p> -“You can’t,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t! We’ll soon see about that!” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer for ten seconds. “It’s too late for us to quarrel -now, Bedford,” he said. “That little jerk was the start. Already we -are flying as swiftly as a bullet up into the gulf of space.” -</p> - -<p> -“I—” I said, and then it didn’t seem to matter what -happened. For a time I was, as it were, stunned; I had nothing to say. It was -just as if I had never heard of this idea of leaving the world before. Then I -perceived an unaccountable change in my bodily sensations. It was a feeling of -lightness, of unreality. Coupled with that was a queer sensation in the head, -an apoplectic effect almost, and a thumping of blood vessels at the ears. -Neither of these feelings diminished as time went on, but at last I got so used -to them that I experienced no inconvenience. -</p> - -<p> -I heard a click, and a little glow lamp came into being. -</p> - -<p> -I saw Cavor’s face, as white as I felt my own to be. We regarded one -another in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him made him -seem as though he floated in a void. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, we’re committed,” I said at last. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said, “we’re committed.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t move,” he exclaimed, at some suggestion of a gesture. -“Let your muscles keep quite lax—as if you were in bed. We are in a -little universe of our own. Look at those things!” -</p> - -<p> -He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the blankets -in the bottom of the sphere. I was astonished to see that they were floating -now nearly a foot from the spherical wall. Then I saw from his shadow that -Cavor was no longer leaning against the glass. I thrust out my hand behind me, -and found that I too was suspended in space, clear of the glass. -</p> - -<p> -I did not cry out nor gesticulate, but fear came upon me. It was like being -held and lifted by something—you know not what. The mere touch of my hand -against the glass moved me rapidly. I understood what had happened, but that -did not prevent my being afraid. We were cut off from all exterior gravitation, -only the attraction of objects within our sphere had effect. Consequently -everything that was not fixed to the glass was falling—slowly because of -the slightness of our masses—towards the centre of gravity of our little -world, which seemed to be somewhere about the middle of the sphere, but rather -nearer to myself than Cavor, on account of my greater weight. -</p> - -<p> -“We must turn round,” said Cavor, “and float back to back, -with the things between us.” -</p> - -<p> -It was the strangest sensation conceivable, floating thus loosely in space, at -first indeed horribly strange, and when the horror passed, not disagreeable at -all, exceeding restful; indeed, the nearest thing in earthly experience to it -that I know is lying on a very thick, soft feather bed. But the quality of -utter detachment and independence! I had not reckoned on things like this. I -had expected a violent jerk at starting, a giddy sense of speed. Instead I -felt—as if I were disembodied. It was not like the beginning of a -journey; it was like the beginning of a dream. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V.<br /> -The Journey to the Moon</h2> - -<p> -Presently Cavor extinguished the light. He said we had not overmuch energy -stored, and that what we had we must economise for reading. For a time, whether -it was long or short I do not know, there was nothing but blank darkness. -</p> - -<p> -A question floated up out of the void. “How are we pointing?” I -said. “What is our direction?” -</p> - -<p> -“We are flying away from the earth at a tangent, and as the moon is near -her third quarter we are going somewhere towards her. I will open a -blind—” -</p> - -<p> -Came a click, and then a window in the outer case yawned open. The sky outside -was as black as the darkness within the sphere, but the shape of the open -window was marked by an infinite number of stars. -</p> - -<p> -Those who have only seen the starry sky from the earth cannot imagine its -appearance when the vague, half luminous veil of our air has been withdrawn. -The stars we see on earth are the mere scattered survivors that penetrate our -misty atmosphere. But now at last I could realise the meaning of the hosts of -heaven! -</p> - -<p> -Stranger things we were presently to see, but that airless, star-dusted sky! Of -all things, I think that will be one of the last I shall forget. -</p> - -<p> -The little window vanished with a click, another beside it snapped open and -instantly closed, and then a third, and for a moment I had to close my eyes -because of the blinding splendour of the waning moon. -</p> - -<p> -For a space I had to stare at Cavor and the white-lit things about me to season -my eyes to light again, before I could turn them towards that pallid glare. -</p> - -<p> -Four windows were open in order that the gravitation of the moon might act upon -all the substances in our sphere. I found I was no longer floating freely in -space, but that my feet were resting on the glass in the direction of the moon. -The blankets and cases of provisions were also creeping slowly down the glass, -and presently came to rest so as to block out a portion of the view. It seemed -to me, of course, that I looked “down” when I looked at the moon. -On earth “down” means earthward, the way things fall, and -“up” the reverse direction. Now the pull of gravitation was towards -the moon, and for all I knew to the contrary our earth was overhead. And, of -course, when all the Cavorite blinds were closed, “down” was -towards the centre of our sphere, and “up” towards its outer wall. -</p> - -<p> -It was curiously unlike earthly experience, too, to have the light coming -<i>up</i> to one. On earth light falls from above, or comes slanting down -sideways, but here it came from beneath our feet, and to see our shadows we had -to look up. -</p> - -<p> -At first it gave me a sort of vertigo to stand only on thick glass and look -down upon the moon through hundreds of thousands of miles of vacant space; but -this sickness passed very speedily. And then—the splendour of the sight! -</p> - -<p> -The reader may imagine it best if he will lie on the ground some warm -summer’s night and look between his upraised feet at the moon, but for -some reason, probably because the absence of air made it so much more luminous, -the moon seemed already considerably larger than it does from earth. The -minutest details of its surface were acutely clear. And since we did not see it -through air, its outline was bright and sharp, there was no glow or halo about -it, and the star-dust that covered the sky came right to its very margin, and -marked the outline of its unilluminated part. And as I stood and stared at the -moon between my feet, that perception of the impossible that had been with me -off and on ever since our start, returned again with tenfold conviction. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “this takes me queerly. Those companies we -were going to run, and all that about minerals?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t see ‘em here.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Cavor; “but you’ll get over all that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose I’m made to turn right side up again. Still, -<i>this</i>— For a moment I could half believe there never was a -world.” -</p> - -<p> -“That copy of <i>Lloyd’s News</i> might help you.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared at the paper for a moment, then held it above the level of my face, -and found I could read it quite easily. I struck a column of mean little -advertisements. “A gentleman of private means is willing to lend -money,” I read. I knew that gentleman. Then somebody eccentric wanted to -sell a Cutaway bicycle, “quite new and cost £15,” for five pounds; -and a lady in distress wished to dispose of some fish knives and forks, -“a wedding present,” at a great sacrifice. No doubt some simple -soul was sagely examining these knives and forks, and another triumphantly -riding off on that bicycle, and a third trustfully consulting that benevolent -gentleman of means even as I read. I laughed, and let the paper drift from my -hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Are we visible from the earth?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“I knew some one who was rather interested in astronomy. It occurred to -me that it would be rather odd if—my friend—chanced to be looking -through some telescope.” -</p> - -<p> -“It would need the most powerful telescope on earth even now to see us as -the minutest speck.” -</p> - -<p> -For a time I stared in silence at the moon. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a world,” I said; “one feels that infinitely more -than one ever did on earth. People perhaps—” -</p> - -<p> -“People!” he exclaimed. “<i>No!</i> Banish all that! Think -yourself a sort of ultra-arctic voyager exploring the desolate places of space. -Look at it!” -</p> - -<p> -He waved his hand at the shining whiteness below. “It’s -dead—dead! Vast extinct volcanoes, lava wildernesses, tumbled wastes of -snow, or frozen carbonic acid, or frozen air, and everywhere landslip seams and -cracks and gulfs. Nothing happens. Men have watched this planet systematically -with telescopes for over two hundred years. How much change do you think they -have seen?” -</p> - -<p> -“None.” -</p> - -<p> -“They have traced two indisputable landslips, a doubtful crack, and one -slight periodic change of colour, and that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t know they’d traced even that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes. But as for people—!” -</p> - -<p> -“By the way,” I asked, “how small a thing will the biggest -telescopes show upon the moon?” -</p> - -<p> -“One could see a fair-sized church. One could certainly see any towns or -buildings, or anything like the handiwork of men. There might perhaps be -insects, something in the way of ants, for example, so that they could hide in -deep burrows from the lunar light, or some new sort of creatures having no -earthly parallel. That is the most probable thing, if we are to find life there -at all. Think of the difference in conditions! Life must fit itself to a day as -long as fourteen earthly days, a cloudless sun-blaze of fourteen days, and then -a night of equal length, growing ever colder and colder under these cold, sharp -stars. In that night there must be cold, the ultimate cold, absolute zero, 273° -C. below the earthly freezing point. Whatever life there is must hibernate -through <i>that</i>, and rise again each day.” -</p> - -<p> -He mused. “One can imagine something worm-like,” he said, -“taking its air solid as an earth-worm swallows earth, or thick-skinned -monsters—” -</p> - -<p> -“By the bye,” I said, “why didn’t we bring a -gun?” -</p> - -<p> -He did not answer that question. “No,” he concluded, “we just -have to go. We shall see when we get there.” -</p> - -<p> -I remembered something. “Of course, there’s my minerals, -anyhow,” I said; “whatever the conditions may be.” -</p> - -<p> -Presently he told me he wished to alter our course a little by letting the -earth tug at us for a moment. He was going to open one earthward blind for -thirty seconds. He warned me that it would make my head swim, and advised me to -extend my hands against the glass to break my fall. I did as he directed, and -thrust my feet against the bales of food cases and air cylinders to prevent -their falling upon me. Then with a click the window flew open. I fell clumsily -upon hands and face, and saw for a moment between my black extended fingers our -mother earth—a planet in a downward sky. -</p> - -<p> -We were still very near—Cavor told me the distance was perhaps eight -hundred miles and the huge terrestrial disc filled all heaven. But already it -was plain to see that the world was a globe. The land below us was in twilight -and vague, but westward the vast grey stretches of the Atlantic shone like -molten silver under the receding day. I think I recognised the cloud-dimmed -coast-lines of France and Spain and the south of England, and then, with a -click, the shutter closed again, and I found myself in a state of extraordinary -confusion sliding slowly over the smooth glass. -</p> - -<p> -When at last things settled themselves in my mind again, it seemed quite beyond -question that the moon was “down” and under my feet, and that the -earth was somewhere away on the level of the horizon—the earth that had -been “down” to me and my kindred since the beginning of things. -</p> - -<p> -So slight were the exertions required of us, so easy did the practical -annihilation of our weight make all we had to do, that the necessity for taking -refreshment did not occur to us for nearly six hours (by Cavor’s -chronometer) after our start. I was amazed at that lapse of time. Even then I -was satisfied with very little. Cavor examined the apparatus for absorbing -carbonic acid and water, and pronounced it to be in satisfactory order, our -consumption of oxygen having been extraordinarily slight. And our talk being -exhausted for the time, and there being nothing further for us to do, we gave -way to a curious drowsiness that had come upon us, and spreading our blankets -on the bottom of the sphere in such a manner as to shut out most of the -moonlight, wished each other good-night, and almost immediately fell asleep. -</p> - -<p> -And so, sleeping, and sometimes talking and reading a little, and at times -eating, although without any keenness of appetite,<a href="#fn-1" name="fnref-1" id="fnref-1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> -but for the most part in a sort of quiescence that was neither waking nor -slumber, we fell through a space of time that had neither night nor day in it, -silently, softly, and swiftly down towards the moon. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a name="fn-1" id="fn-1"></a> <a href="#fnref-1">[1]</a> -It is a curious thing, that while we were in the sphere we felt not the -slightest desire for food, nor did we feel the want of it when we abstained. At -first we forced our appetites, but afterwards we fasted completely. Altogether -we did not consume one-hundredth part of the compressed provisions we had -brought with us. The amount of carbonic acid we breathed was also unnaturally -low, but why this was, I am quite unable to explain. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI.<br /> -The Landing on the Moon</h2> - -<p> -I remember how one day Cavor suddenly opened six of our shutters and blinded me -so that I cried aloud at him. The whole area was moon, a stupendous scimitar of -white dawn with its edge hacked out by notches of darkness, the crescent shore -of an ebbing tide of darkness, out of which peaks and pinnacles came glittering -into the blaze of the sun. I take it the reader has seen pictures or -photographs of the moon and that I need not describe the broader features of -that landscape, those spacious ring-like ranges vaster than any terrestrial -mountains, their summits shining in the day, their shadows harsh and deep, the -grey disordered plains, the ridges, hills, and craterlets, all passing at last -from a blazing illumination into a common mystery of black. Athwart this world -we were flying scarcely a hundred miles above its crests and pinnacles. And now -we could see, what no eye on earth will ever see, that under the blaze of the -day the harsh outlines of the rocks and ravines of the plains and crater floor -grew grey and indistinct under a thickening haze, that the white of their lit -surfaces broke into lumps and patches, and broke again and shrank and vanished, -and that here and there strange tints of brown and olive grew and spread. -</p> - -<p> -But little time we had for watching then. For now we had come to the real -danger of our journey. We had to drop ever closer to the moon as we spun about -it, to slacken our pace and watch our chance, until at last we could dare to -drop upon its surface. -</p> - -<p> -For Cavor that was a time of intense exertion; for me it was an anxious -inactivity. I seemed perpetually to be getting out of his way. He leapt about -the sphere from point to point with an agility that would have been impossible -on earth. He was perpetually opening and closing the Cavorite windows, making -calculations, consulting his chronometer by means of the glow lamp during those -last eventful hours. For a long time we had all our windows closed and hung -silently in darkness hurling through space. -</p> - -<p> -Then he was feeling for the shutter studs, and suddenly four windows were open. -I staggered and covered my eyes, drenched and scorched and blinded by the -unaccustomed splendour of the sun beneath my feet. Then again the shutters -snapped, leaving my brain spinning in a darkness that pressed against the eyes. -And after that I floated in another vast, black silence. -</p> - -<p> -Then Cavor switched on the electric light, and told me he proposed to bind all -our luggage together with the blankets about it, against the concussion of our -descent. We did this with our windows closed, because in that way our goods -arranged themselves naturally at the centre of the sphere. That too was a -strange business; we two men floating loose in that spherical space, and -packing and pulling ropes. Imagine it if you can! No up nor down, and every -effort resulting in unexpected movements. Now I would be pressed against the -glass with the full force of Cavor’s thrust, now I would be kicking -helplessly in a void. Now the star of the electric light would be overhead, now -under foot. Now Cavor’s feet would float up before my eyes, and now we -would be crossways to each other. But at last our goods were safely bound -together in a big soft bale, all except two blankets with head holes that we -were to wrap about ourselves. -</p> - -<p> -Then for a flash Cavor opened a window moonward, and we saw that we were -dropping towards a huge central crater with a number of minor craters grouped -in a sort of cross about it. And then again Cavor flung our little sphere open -to the scorching, blinding sun. I think he was using the sun’s attraction -as a brake. “Cover yourself with a blanket,” he cried, thrusting -himself from me, and for a moment I did not understand. -</p> - -<p> -Then I hauled the blanket from beneath my feet and got it about me and over my -head and eyes. Abruptly he closed the shutters again, snapped one open again -and closed it, then suddenly began snapping them all open, each safely into its -steel roller. There came a jar, and then we were rolling over and over, bumping -against the glass and against the big bale of our luggage, and clutching at -each other, and outside some white substance splashed as if we were rolling -down a slope of snow.... -</p> - -<p> -Over, clutch, bump, clutch, bump, over.... -</p> - -<p> -Came a thud, and I was half buried under the bale of our possessions, and for a -space everything was still. Then I could hear Cavor puffing and grunting, and -the snapping of a shutter in its sash. I made an effort, thrust back our -blanket-wrapped luggage, and emerged from beneath it. Our open windows were -just visible as a deeper black set with stars. -</p> - -<p> -We were still alive, and we were lying in the darkness of the shadow of the -wall of the great crater into which we had fallen. -</p> - -<p> -We sat getting our breath again, and feeling the bruises on our limbs. I -don’t think either of us had had a very clear expectation of such rough -handling as we had received. I struggled painfully to my feet. “And -now,” said I, “to look at the landscape of the moon! But—! -It’s tremendously dark, Cavor!” -</p> - -<p> -The glass was dewy, and as I spoke I wiped at it with my blanket. -“We’re half an hour or so beyond the day,” he said. “We -must wait.” -</p> - -<p> -It was impossible to distinguish anything. We might have been in a sphere of -steel for all that we could see. My rubbing with the blanket simply smeared the -glass, and as fast as I wiped it, it became opaque again with freshly condensed -moisture mixed with an increasing quantity of blanket hairs. Of course I ought -not to have used the blanket. In my efforts to clear the glass I slipped upon -the damp surface, and hurt my shin against one of the oxygen cylinders that -protruded from our bale. -</p> - -<p> -The thing was exasperating—it was absurd. Here we were just arrived upon -the moon, amidst we knew not what wonders, and all we could see was the grey -and streaming wall of the bubble in which we had come. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said, “but at this rate we might have -stopped at home;” and I squatted on the bale and shivered, and drew my -blanket closer about me. -</p> - -<p> -Abruptly the moisture turned to spangles and fronds of frost. “Can you -reach the electric heater,” said Cavor. “Yes—that black knob. -Or we shall freeze.” -</p> - -<p> -I did not wait to be told twice. “And now,” said I, “what are -we to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Wait,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course. We shall have to wait until our air gets warm again, and then -this glass will clear. We can’t do anything till then. It’s night -here yet; we must wait for the day to overtake us. Meanwhile, don’t you -feel hungry?” -</p> - -<p> -For a space I did not answer him, but sat fretting. I turned reluctantly from -the smeared puzzle of the glass and stared at his face. “Yes,” I -said, “I am hungry. I feel somehow enormously disappointed. I had -expected—I don’t know what I had expected, but not this.” -</p> - -<p> -I summoned my philosophy, and rearranging my blanket about me sat down on the -bale again and began my first meal on the moon. I don’t think I finished -it—I forget. Presently, first in patches, then running rapidly together -into wider spaces, came the clearing of the glass, came the drawing of the -misty veil that hid the moon world from our eyes. -</p> - -<p> -We peered out upon the landscape of the moon. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap07"></a>VII.<br /> -Sunrise on the Moon</h2> - -<p> -As we saw it first it was the wildest and most desolate of scenes. We were in -an enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain, the floor of the giant crater. -Its cliff-like walls closed us in on every side. From the westward the light of -the unseen sun fell upon them, reaching to the very foot of the cliff, and -showed a disordered escarpment of drab and greyish rock, lined here and there -with banks and crevices of snow. This was perhaps a dozen miles away, but at -first no intervening atmosphere diminished in the slightest the minutely -detailed brilliancy with which these things glared at us. They stood out clear -and dazzling against a background of starry blackness that seemed to our -earthly eyes rather a gloriously spangled velvet curtain than the spaciousness -of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -The eastward cliff was at first merely a starless selvedge to the starry dome. -No rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the commencing day. Only the -Corona, the Zodiacal light, a huge cone-shaped, luminous haze, pointing up -towards the splendour of the morning star, warned us of the imminent nearness -of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -Whatever light was about us was reflected by the westward cliffs. It showed a -huge undulating plain, cold and grey, a grey that deepened eastward into the -absolute raven darkness of the cliff shadow. Innumerable rounded grey summits, -ghostly hummocks, billows of snowy substance, stretching crest beyond crest -into the remote obscurity, gave us our first inkling of the distance of the -crater wall. These hummocks looked like snow. At the time I thought they were -snow. But they were not—they were mounds and masses of frozen air. -</p> - -<p> -So it was at first; and then, sudden, swift, and amazing, came the lunar day. -</p> - -<p> -The sunlight had crept down the cliff, it touched the drifted masses at its -base and incontinently came striding with seven-leagued boots towards us. The -distant cliff seemed to shift and quiver, and at the touch of the dawn a reek -of grey vapour poured upward from the crater floor, whirls and puffs and -drifting wraiths of grey, thicker and broader and denser, until at last the -whole westward plain was steaming like a wet handkerchief held before the fire, -and the westward cliffs were no more than refracted glare beyond. -</p> - -<p> -“It is air,” said Cavor. “It must be air—or it would -not rise like this—at the mere touch of a sun-beam. And at this -pace....” -</p> - -<p> -He peered upwards. “Look!” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“What?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“In the sky. Already. On the blackness—a little touch of blue. See! -The stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim nebulosities we -saw in empty space—they are hidden!” -</p> - -<p> -Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. Grey summit after grey summit was -overtaken by the blaze, and turned to a smoking white intensity. At last there -was nothing to the west of us but a bank of surging fog, the tumultuous advance -and ascent of cloudy haze. The distant cliff had receded farther and farther, -had loomed and changed through the whirl, and foundered and vanished at last in -its confusion. -</p> - -<p> -Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer and nearer, coming as fast as the -shadow of a cloud before the south-west wind. About us rose a thin anticipatory -haze. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor gripped my arm. “What?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Look! The sunrise! The sun!” -</p> - -<p> -He turned me about and pointed to the brow of the eastward cliff, looming above -the haze about us, scarce lighter than the darkness of the sky. But now its -line was marked by strange reddish shapes, tongues of vermilion flame that -writhed and danced. I fancied it must be spirals of vapour that had caught the -light and made this crest of fiery tongues against the sky, but indeed it was -the solar prominences I saw, a crown of fire about the sun that is forever -hidden from earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil. -</p> - -<p> -And then—the sun! -</p> - -<p> -Steadily, inevitably came a brilliant line, came a thin edge of intolerable -effulgence that took a circular shape, became a bow, became a blazing sceptre, -and hurled a shaft of heat at us as though it was a spear. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed verily to stab my eyes! I cried aloud and turned about blinded, -groping for my blanket beneath the bale. -</p> - -<p> -And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had reached us -from without since we left the earth, a hissing and rustling, the stormy -trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing day. And with the coming of the -sound and the light the sphere lurched, and blinded and dazzled we staggered -helplessly against each other. It lurched again, and the hissing grew louder. I -had shut my eyes perforce, I was making clumsy efforts to cover my head with my -blanket, and this second lurch sent me helplessly off my feet. I fell against -the bale, and opening my eyes had a momentary glimpse of the air just outside -our glass. It was running—it was boiling—like snow into which a -white-hot rod is thrust. What had been solid air had suddenly at the touch of -the sun become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquefaction, that hissed and bubbled -into gas. -</p> - -<p> -There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched one -another. In another moment we were spun about again. Round we went and over, -and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had hold of us. It meant to show us -little men what the moon could do with us. -</p> - -<p> -I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half liquid -slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We dropped into darkness. I went -down with Cavor’s knees in my chest. Then he seemed to fly away from me, -and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my body staring upward. A -toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed over us, buried us, and now it -thinned and boiled off us. I saw the bubbles dancing on the glass above. I -heard Cavor exclaiming feebly. -</p> - -<p> -Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and spluttering -expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling faster and faster, -leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster and faster, westward into -the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar day. -</p> - -<p> -Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our bale of -packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We collided, we gripped, we were torn -asunder—our heads met, and the whole universe burst into fiery darts and -stars! On the earth we should have smashed one another a dozen times, but on -the moon, luckily for us, our weight was only one-sixth of what it is -terrestrially, and we fell very mercifully. I recall a sensation of utter -sickness, a feeling as if my brain were upside down within my skull, and -then— -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears. Then I -discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated by blue -spectacles. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, his eyes also -protected by tinted goggles. His breath came irregularly, and his lip was -bleeding from a bruise. “Better?” he said, wiping the blood with -the back of his hand. -</p> - -<p> -Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my giddiness. I -perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the outer sphere to save -me—from the direct blaze of the sun. I was aware that everything about us -was very brilliant. -</p> - -<p> -“Lord!” I gasped. “But this—” -</p> - -<p> -I craned my neck to see. I perceived there was a blinding glare outside, an -utter change from the gloomy darkness of our first impressions. “Have I -been insensible long?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know—the chronometer is broken. Some little time.... -My dear chap! I have been afraid...” -</p> - -<p> -I lay for a space taking this in. I saw his face still bore evidences of -emotion. For a while I said nothing. I passed an inquisitive hand over my -contusions, and surveyed his face for similar damages. The back of my right -hand had suffered most, and was skinless and raw. My forehead was bruised and -had bled. He handed me a little measure with some of the restorative—I -forget the name of it—he had brought with us. After a time I felt a -little better. I began to stretch my limbs carefully. Soon I could talk. -</p> - -<p> -“It wouldn’t have done,” I said, as though there had been no -interval. -</p> - -<p> -“No! it <i>wouldn’t</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -He thought, his hands hanging over his knees. He peered through the glass and -then stared at me. “Good Lord!” he said. “<i>No!</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“What has happened?” I asked after a pause. “Have we jumped -to the tropics?” -</p> - -<p> -“It was as I expected. This air has evaporated—if it is air. At any -rate, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are lying -on a bank of earthy rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed. A queer sort of -soil!” -</p> - -<p> -It occurred to him that it was unnecessary to explain. He assisted me into a -sitting position, and I could see with my own eyes. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap08"></a>VIII.<br /> -A Lunar Morning</h2> - -<p> -The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and white of scenery had altogether -disappeared. The glare of the sun had taken upon itself a faint tinge of amber; -the shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall were deeply purple. To the -eastward a dark bank of fog still crouched and sheltered from the sunrise, but -to the westward the sky was blue and clear. I began to realise the length of my -insensibility. -</p> - -<p> -We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had arisen about us. The outline of -things had gained in character, had grown acute and varied; save for a shadowed -space of white substance here and there, white substance that was no longer air -but snow, the arctic appearance had gone altogether. Everywhere broad rusty -brown spaces of bare and tumbled earth spread to the blaze of the sun. Here and -there at the edge of the snowdrifts were transient little pools and eddies of -water, the only things stirring in that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight -inundated the upper two blinds of our sphere and turned our climate to high -summer, but our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was lying upon a -drift of snow. -</p> - -<p> -And scattered here and there upon the slope, and emphasised by little white -threads of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, were shapes like sticks, dry -twisted sticks of the same rusty hue as the rock upon which they lay. That -caught one’s thoughts sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless world? Then as my -eye grew more accustomed to the texture of their substance, I perceived that -almost all this surface had a fibrous texture, like the carpet of brown needles -one finds beneath the shade of pine trees. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“It may be a dead world now—but once—” -</p> - -<p> -Something arrested my attention. I had discovered among these needles a number -of little round objects. And it seemed to me that one of these had moved. -“Cavor,” I whispered. -</p> - -<p> -“What?” -</p> - -<p> -But I did not answer at once. I stared incredulous. For an instant I could not -believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. I gripped his arm. I pointed. -“Look!” I cried, finding my tongue. “There! Yes! And -there!” -</p> - -<p> -His eyes followed my pointing finger. “Eh?” he said. -</p> - -<p> -How can I describe the thing I saw? It is so petty a thing to state, and yet it -seemed so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I have said that amidst the -stick-like litter were these rounded bodies, these little oval bodies that -might have passed as very small pebbles. And now first one and then another had -stirred, had rolled over and cracked, and down the crack of each of them showed -a minute line of yellowish green, thrusting outward to meet the hot -encouragement of the newly-risen sun. For a moment that was all, and then there -stirred, and burst a third! -</p> - -<p> -“It is a seed,” said Cavor. And then I heard him whisper very -softly, “<i>Life!</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“Life!” And immediately it poured upon us that our vast journey had -not been made in vain, that we had come to no arid waste of minerals, but to a -world that lived and moved! We watched intensely. I remember I kept rubbing the -glass before me with my sleeve, jealous of the faintest suspicion of mist. -</p> - -<p> -The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field. All about that -centre the dead fibres and seeds were magnified and distorted by the curvature -of the glass. But we could see enough! One after another all down the sunlit -slope these miraculous little brown bodies burst and gaped apart, like -seed-pods, like the husks of fruits; opened eager mouths that drank in the -heat and light pouring in a cascade from the newly-risen sun. -</p> - -<p> -Every moment more of these seed coats ruptured, and even as they did so the -swelling pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed-cases, and passed into -the second stage of growth. With a steady assurance, a swift deliberation, -these amazing seeds thrust a rootlet downward to the earth and a queer little -bundle-like bud into the air. In a little while the whole slope was dotted with -minute plantlets standing at attention in the blaze of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled and strained and -opened with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little sharp tips, spreading a -whorl of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves, that lengthened rapidly, lengthened -visibly even as we watched. The movement was slower than any animal’s, -swifter than any plant’s I have ever seen before. How can I suggest it to -you—the way that growth went on? The leaf tips grew so that they moved -onward even while we looked at them. The brown seed-case shrivelled and was -absorbed with an equal rapidity. Have you ever on a cold day taken a -thermometer into your warm hand and watched the little thread of mercury creep -up the tube? These moon plants grew like that. -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds of the more forward of these plants -had lengthened into a stem and were even putting forth a second whorl of -leaves, and all the slope that had seemed so recently a lifeless stretch of -litter was now dark with the stunted olive-green herbage of bristling spikes -that swayed with the vigour of their growing. -</p> - -<p> -I turned about, and behold! along the upper edge of a rock to the eastward a -similar fringe in a scarcely less forward condition swayed and bent, dark -against the blinding glare of the sun. And beyond this fringe was the -silhouette of a plant mass, branching clumsily like a cactus, and swelling -visibly, swelling like a bladder that fills with air. -</p> - -<p> -Then to the westward also I discovered that another such distended form was -rising over the scrub. But here the light fell upon its sleek sides, and I -could see that its colour was a vivid orange hue. It rose as one watched it; if -one looked away from it for a minute and then back, its outline had changed; it -thrust out blunt congested branches until in a little time it rose a coralline -shape of many feet in height. Compared with such a growth the terrestrial -puff-ball, which will sometimes swell a foot in diameter in a single night, -would be a hopeless laggard. But then the puff-ball grows against a -gravitational pull six times that of the moon. Beyond, out of gullies and flats -that had been hidden from us, but not from the quickening sun, over reefs and -banks of shining rock, a bristling beard of spiky and fleshy vegetation was -straining into view, hurrying tumultuously to take advantage of the brief day -in which it must flower and fruit and seed again and die. It was like a -miracle, that growth. So, one must imagine, the trees and plants arose at the -Creation and covered the desolation of the new-made earth. -</p> - -<p> -Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The resurrection of the frozen air, the stirring -and quickening of the soil, and then this silent uprising of vegetation, this -unearthly ascent of fleshiness and spikes. Conceive it all lit by a blaze that -would make the intensest sunlight of earth seem watery and weak. And still -around this stirring jungle, wherever there was shadow, lingered banks of -bluish snow. And to have the picture of our impression complete, you must bear -in mind that we saw it all through a thick bent glass, distorting it as things -are distorted by a lens, acute only in the centre of the picture, and very -bright there, and towards the edges magnified and unreal. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap09"></a>IX.<br /> -Prospecting Begins</h2> - -<p> -We ceased to gaze. We turned to each other, the same thought, the same question -in our eyes. For these plants to grow, there must be some air, however -attenuated, air that we also should be able to breathe. -</p> - -<p> -“The manhole?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” said Cavor, “if it is air we see!” -</p> - -<p> -“In a little while,” I said, “these plants will be as high as -we are. Suppose—suppose after all— Is it certain? How do you know -that stuff <i>is</i> air? It may be nitrogen—it may be carbonic acid -even!” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s easy,” he said, and set about proving it. He produced -a big piece of crumpled paper from the bale, lit it, and thrust it hastily -through the man-hole valve. I bent forward and peered down through the thick -glass for its appearance outside, that little flame on whose evidence depended -so much! -</p> - -<p> -I saw the paper drop out and lie lightly upon the snow. The pink flame of its -burning vanished. For an instant it seemed to be extinguished. And then I saw a -little blue tongue upon the edge of it that trembled, and crept, and spread! -</p> - -<p> -Quietly the whole sheet, save where it lay in immediate contact with the snow, -charred and shrivelled and sent up a quivering thread of smoke. There was no -doubt left to me; the atmosphere of the moon was either pure oxygen or air, and -capable therefore—unless its tenuity was excessive—of supporting -our alien life. We might emerge—and live! -</p> - -<p> -I sat down with my legs on either side of the manhole and prepared to unscrew -it, but Cavor stopped me. “There is first a little precaution,” he -said. He pointed out that although it was certainly an oxygenated atmosphere -outside, it might still be so rarefied as to cause us grave injury. He reminded -me of mountain sickness, and of the bleeding that often afflicts aeronauts who -have ascended too swiftly, and he spent some time in the preparation of a -sickly-tasting drink which he insisted on my sharing. It made me feel a little -numb, but otherwise had no effect on me. Then he permitted me to begin -unscrewing. -</p> - -<p> -Presently the glass stopper of the manhole was so far undone that the denser -air within our sphere began to escape along the thread of the screw, singing as -a kettle sings before it boils. Thereupon he made me desist. It speedily became -evident that the pressure outside was very much less than it was within. How -much less it was we had no means of telling. -</p> - -<p> -I sat grasping the stopper with both hands, ready to close it again if, in -spite of our intense hope, the lunar atmosphere should after all prove too -rarefied for us, and Cavor sat with a cylinder of compressed oxygen at hand to -restore our pressure. We looked at one another in silence, and then at the -fantastic vegetation that swayed and grew visibly and noiselessly without. And -ever that shrill piping continued. -</p> - -<p> -My blood-vessels began to throb in my ears, and the sound of Cavor’s -movements diminished. I noted how still everything had become, because of the -thinning of the air. -</p> - -<p> -As our air sizzled out from the screw the moisture of it condensed in little -puffs. -</p> - -<p> -Presently I experienced a peculiar shortness of breath that lasted indeed -during the whole of the time of our exposure to the moon’s exterior -atmosphere, and a rather unpleasant sensation about the ears and finger-nails -and the back of the throat grew upon my attention, and presently passed off -again. -</p> - -<p> -But then came vertigo and nausea that abruptly changed the quality of my -courage. I gave the lid of the manhole half a turn and made a hasty explanation -to Cavor; but now he was the more sanguine. He answered me in a voice that -seemed extraordinarily small and remote, because of the thinness of the air -that carried the sound. He recommended a nip of brandy, and set me the example, -and presently I felt better. I turned the manhole stopper back again. The -throbbing in my ears grew louder, and then I remarked that the piping note of -the outrush had ceased. For a time I could not be sure that it had ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” said Cavor, in the ghost of a voice. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“Shall we go on?” -</p> - -<p> -I thought. “Is this all?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you can stand it.” -</p> - -<p> -By way of answer I went on unscrewing. I lifted the circular operculum from its -place and laid it carefully on the bale. A flake or so of snow whirled and -vanished as that thin and unfamiliar air took possession of our sphere. I -knelt, and then seated myself at the edge of the manhole, peering over it. -Beneath, within a yard of my face, lay the untrodden snow of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -There came a little pause. Our eyes met. -</p> - -<p> -“It doesn’t distress your lungs too much?” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said. “I can stand this.” -</p> - -<p> -He stretched out his hand for his blanket, thrust his head through its central -hole, and wrapped it about him. He sat down on the edge of the manhole, he let -his feet drop until they were within six inches of the lunar ground. He -hesitated for a moment, then thrust himself forward, dropped these intervening -inches, and stood upon the untrodden soil of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -As he stepped forward he was refracted grotesquely by the edge of the glass. He -stood for a moment looking this way and that. Then he drew himself together and -leapt. -</p> - -<p> -The glass distorted everything, but it seemed to me even then to be an -extremely big leap. He had at one bound become remote. He seemed twenty or -thirty feet off. He was standing high upon a rocky mass and gesticulating back -to me. Perhaps he was shouting—but the sound did not reach me. But how -the deuce had he done this? I felt like a man who has just seen a new conjuring -trick. -</p> - -<p> -In a puzzled state of mind I too dropped through the manhole. I stood up. Just -in front of me the snowdrift had fallen away and made a sort of ditch. I made a -step and jumped. -</p> - -<p> -I found myself flying through the air, saw the rock on which he stood coming to -meet me, clutched it and clung in a state of infinite amazement. -</p> - -<p> -I gasped a painful laugh. I was tremendously confused. Cavor bent down and -shouted in piping tones for me to be careful. -</p> - -<p> -I had forgotten that on the moon, with only an eighth part of the earth’s -mass and a quarter of its diameter, my weight was barely a sixth what it was on -earth. But now that fact insisted on being remembered. -</p> - -<p> -“We are out of Mother Earth’s leading-strings now,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -With a guarded effort I raised myself to the top, and moving as cautiously as a -rheumatic patient, stood up beside him under the blaze of the sun. The sphere -lay behind us on its dwindling snowdrift thirty feet away. -</p> - -<p> -As far as the eye could see over the enormous disorder of rocks that formed the -crater floor, the same bristling scrub that surrounded us was starting into -life, diversified here and there by bulging masses of a cactus form, and -scarlet and purple lichens that grew so fast they seemed to crawl over the -rocks. The whole area of the crater seemed to me then to be one similar -wilderness up to the very foot of the surrounding cliff. -</p> - -<p> -This cliff was apparently bare of vegetation save at its base, and with -buttresses and terraces and platforms that did not very greatly attract our -attention at the time. It was many miles away from us in every direction; we -seemed to be almost at the centre of the crater, and we saw it through a -certain haziness that drove before the wind. For there was even a wind now in -the thin air, a swift yet weak wind that chilled exceedingly but exerted little -pressure. It was blowing round the crater, as it seemed, to the hot illuminated -side from the foggy darkness under the sunward wall. It was difficult to look -into this eastward fog; we had to peer with half-closed eyes beneath the shade -of our hands, because of the fierce intensity of the motionless sun. -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to be deserted,” said Cavor, “absolutely -desolate.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked about me again. I retained even then a clinging hope of some -quasi-human evidence, some pinnacle of building, some house or engine, but -everywhere one looked spread the tumbled rocks in peaks and crests, and the -darting scrub and those bulging cacti that swelled and swelled, a flat negation -as it seemed of all such hope. -</p> - -<p> -“It looks as though these plants had it to themselves,” I said. -“I see no trace of any other creature.” -</p> - -<p> -“No insects—no birds, no! Not a trace, not a scrap nor particle of -animal life. If there was—what would they do in the night? ... No; -there’s just these plants alone.” -</p> - -<p> -I shaded my eyes with my hand. “It’s like the landscape of a dream. -These things are less like earthly land plants than the things one imagines -among the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Look at that yonder! One might -imagine it a lizard changed into a plant. And the glare!” -</p> - -<p> -“This is only the fresh morning,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -He sighed and looked about him. “This is no world for men,” he -said. “And yet in a way—it appeals.” -</p> - -<p> -He became silent for a time, then commenced his meditative humming. -</p> - -<p> -I started at a gentle touch, and found a thin sheet of livid lichen lapping -over my shoe. I kicked at it and it fell to powder, and each speck began to -grow. -</p> - -<p> -I heard Cavor exclaim sharply, and perceived that one of the fixed bayonets of -the scrub had pricked him. He hesitated, his eyes sought among the rocks about -us. A sudden blaze of pink had crept up a ragged pillar of crag. It was a most -extraordinary pink, a livid magenta. -</p> - -<p> -“Look!” said I, turning, and behold Cavor had vanished. -</p> - -<p> -For an instant I stood transfixed. Then I made a hasty step to look over the -verge of the rock. But in my surprise at his disappearance I forgot once more -that we were on the moon. The thrust of my foot that I made in striding would -have carried me a yard on earth; on the moon it carried me six—a good -five yards over the edge. For the moment the thing had something of the effect -of those nightmares when one falls and falls. For while one falls sixteen feet -in the first second of a fall on earth, on the moon one falls two, and with -only a sixth of one’s weight. I fell, or rather I jumped down, about ten -yards I suppose. It seemed to take quite a long time, five or six seconds, I -should think. I floated through the air and fell like a feather, knee-deep in a -snow-drift in the bottom of a gully of blue-grey, white-veined rock. -</p> - -<p> -I looked about me. “Cavor!” I cried; but no Cavor was visible. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I cried louder, and the rocks echoed me. -</p> - -<p> -I turned fiercely to the rocks and clambered to the summit of them. -“Cavor!” I cried. My voice sounded like the voice of a lost lamb. -</p> - -<p> -The sphere, too, was not in sight, and for a moment a horrible feeling of -desolation pinched my heart. -</p> - -<p> -Then I saw him. He was laughing and gesticulating to attract my attention. He -was on a bare patch of rock twenty or thirty yards away. I could not hear his -voice, but “jump” said his gestures. I hesitated, the distance -seemed enormous. Yet I reflected that surely I must be able to clear a greater -distance than Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -I made a step back, gathered myself together, and leapt with all my might. I -seemed to shoot right up in the air as though I should never come down. -</p> - -<p> -It was horrible and delightful, and as wild as a nightmare, to go flying off in -this fashion. I realised my leap had been altogether too violent. I flew clean -over Cavor’s head and beheld a spiky confusion in a gully spreading to -meet my fall. I gave a yelp of alarm. I put out my hands and straightened my -legs. -</p> - -<p> -I hit a huge fungoid bulk that burst all about me, scattering a mass of orange -spores in every direction, and covering me with orange powder. I rolled over -spluttering, and came to rest convulsed with breathless laughter. -</p> - -<p> -I became aware of Cavor’s little round face peering over a bristling -hedge. He shouted some faded inquiry. “Eh?” I tried to shout, but -could not do so for want of breath. He made his way towards me, coming gingerly -among the bushes. -</p> - -<p> -“We’ve got to be careful,” he said. “This moon has no -discipline. She’ll let us smash ourselves.” -</p> - -<p> -He helped me to my feet. “You exerted yourself too much,” he said, -dabbing at the yellow stuff with his hand to remove it from my garments. -</p> - -<p> -I stood passive and panting, allowing him to beat off the jelly from my knees -and elbows and lecture me upon my misfortunes. “We don’t quite -allow for the gravitation. Our muscles are scarcely educated yet. We must -practise a little, when you have got your breath.” -</p> - -<p> -I pulled two or three little thorns out of my hand, and sat for a time on a -boulder of rock. My muscles were quivering, and I had that feeling of personal -disillusionment that comes at the first fall to the learner of cycling on -earth. -</p> - -<p> -It suddenly occurred to Cavor that the cold air in the gully, after the -brightness of the sun, might give me a fever. So we clambered back into the -sunlight. We found that beyond a few abrasions I had received no serious -injuries from my tumble, and at Cavor’s suggestion we were presently -looking round for some safe and easy landing-place for my next leap. We chose a -rocky slab some ten yards off, separated from us by a little thicket of -olive-green spikes. -</p> - -<p> -“Imagine it there!” said Cavor, who was assuming the airs of a -trainer, and he pointed to a spot about four feet from my toes. This leap I -managed without difficulty, and I must confess I found a certain satisfaction -in Cavor’s falling short by a foot or so and tasting the spikes of the -scrub. “One has to be careful, you see,” he said, pulling out his -thorns, and with that he ceased to be my mentor and became my fellow-learner in -the art of lunar locomotion. -</p> - -<p> -We chose a still easier jump and did it without difficulty, and then leapt back -again, and to and fro several times, accustoming our muscles to the new -standard. I could never have believed had I not experienced it, how rapid that -adaptation would be. In a very little time indeed, certainly after fewer than -thirty leaps, we could judge the effort necessary for a distance with almost -terrestrial assurance. -</p> - -<p> -And all this time the lunar plants were growing around us, higher and denser -and more entangled, every moment thicker and taller, spiked plants, green -cactus masses, fungi, fleshy and lichenous things, strangest radiate and -sinuous shapes. But we were so intent upon our leaping, that for a time we gave -no heed to their unfaltering expansion. -</p> - -<p> -An extraordinary elation had taken possession of us. Partly, I think, it was -our sense of release from the confinement of the sphere. Mainly, however, the -thin sweetness of the air, which I am certain contained a much larger -proportion of oxygen than our terrestrial atmosphere. In spite of the strange -quality of all about us, I felt as adventurous and experimental as a cockney -would do placed for the first time among mountains and I do not think it -occurred to either of us, face to face though we were with the unknown, to be -very greatly afraid. -</p> - -<p> -We were bitten by a spirit of enterprise. We selected a lichenous kopje perhaps -fifteen yards away, and landed neatly on its summit one after the other. -“Good!” we cried to each other; “good!” and Cavor made -three steps and went off to a tempting slope of snow a good twenty yards and -more beyond. I stood for a moment struck by the grotesque effect of his soaring -figure—his dirty cricket cap, and spiky hair, his little round body, his -arms and his knicker-bockered legs tucked up tightly—against the weird -spaciousness of the lunar scene. A gust of laughter seized me, and then I -stepped off to follow. Plump! I dropped beside him. -</p> - -<p> -We made a few gargantuan strides, leapt three or four times more, and sat down -at last in a lichenous hollow. Our lungs were painful. We sat holding our sides -and recovering our breath, looking appreciation to one another. Cavor panted -something about “amazing sensations.” And then came a thought into -my head. For the moment it did not seem a particularly appalling thought, -simply a natural question arising out of the situation. -</p> - -<p> -“By the way,” I said, “where exactly is the sphere?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor looked at me. “Eh?” -</p> - -<p> -The full meaning of what we were saying struck me sharply. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I cried, laying a hand on his arm, “where is the -sphere?” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap10"></a>X.<br /> -Lost Men in the Moon</h2> - -<p> -His face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about him at the -scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward in a passion of -growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke with a sudden lack of -assurance. “I think,” he said slowly, “we left it ... -somewhere ... about <i>there</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not sure.” His look of consternation deepened. -“Anyhow,” he said, with his eyes on me, “it can’t be -far.” -</p> - -<p> -We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought in the -twining, thickening jungle round about us. -</p> - -<p> -All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed and swayed the darting shrubs, the -swelling cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever the shade remained the -snow-drifts lingered. North, south, east, and west spread an identical monotony -of unfamiliar forms. And somewhere, buried already among this tangled -confusion, was our sphere, our home, our only provision, our only hope of -escape from this fantastic wilderness of ephemeral growths into which we had -come. -</p> - -<p> -“I think after all,” he said, pointing suddenly, “it might be -over there.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said. “We have turned in a curve. See! here is the -mark of my heels. It’s clear the thing must be more to the eastward, much -more. No—the sphere must be over there.” -</p> - -<p> -“I <i>think</i>,” said Cavor, “I kept the sun upon my right -all the time.” -</p> - -<p> -“Every leap, it seems to <i>me</i>,” I said, “my shadow flew -before me.” -</p> - -<p> -We stared into one another’s eyes. The area of the crater had become -enormously vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets already impenetrably -dense. -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens! What fools we have been!” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s evident that we must find it again,” said Cavor, -“and that soon. The sun grows stronger. We should be fainting with the -heat already if it wasn’t so dry. And ... I’m hungry.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared at him. I had not suspected this aspect of the matter before. But it -came to me at once—a positive craving. “Yes,” I said with -emphasis. “I am hungry too.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood up with a look of active resolution. “Certainly we must find the -sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -As calmly as possible we surveyed the interminable reefs and thickets that -formed the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in silence the chances of -our finding the sphere before we were overtaken by heat and hunger. -</p> - -<p> -“It can’t be fifty yards from here,” said Cavor, with -indecisive gestures. “The only thing is to beat round about until we come -upon it.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is all we can do,” I said, without any alacrity to begin our -hunt. “I wish this confounded spike bush did not grow so fast!” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s just it,” said Cavor. “But it was lying on a -bank of snow.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared about me in the vain hope of recognising some knoll or shrub that had -been near the sphere. But everywhere was a confusing sameness, everywhere the -aspiring bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling snow banks, steadily and -inevitably changed. The sun scorched and stung, the faintness of an -unaccountable hunger mingled with our infinite perplexity. And even as we stood -there, confused and lost amidst unprecedented things, we became aware for the -first time of a sound upon the moon other than the air of the growing plants, -the faint sighing of the wind, or those that we ourselves had made. -</p> - -<p> -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. -</p> - -<p> -It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear it with -our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull resonance was muffled by distance, -thick with the quality of intervening substance. No sound that I can imagine -could have astonished us more, or have changed more completely the quality of -things about us. For this sound, rich, slow, and deliberate, seemed to us as -though it could be nothing but the striking of some gigantic buried clock. -</p> - -<p> -Boom.... Boom.... Boom. -</p> - -<p> -Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleepless nights in crowded cities, of -vigils and the awaited hour, of all that is orderly and methodical in life, -booming out pregnant and mysterious in this fantastic desert! To the eye -everything was unchanged: the desolation of bushes and cacti waving silently in -the wind, stretched unbroken to the distant cliffs, the still dark sky was -empty overhead, and the hot sun hung and burned. And through it all, a warning, -a threat, throbbed this enigma of sound. -</p> - -<p> -Boom.... Boom.... Boom.... -</p> - -<p> -We questioned one another in faint and faded voices. -</p> - -<p> -“A clock?” -</p> - -<p> -“Like a clock!” -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“What can it be?” -</p> - -<p> -“Count,” was Cavor’s belated suggestion, and at that word the -striking ceased. -</p> - -<p> -The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a fresh shock. -For a moment one could doubt whether one had ever heard a sound. Or whether it -might not still be going on. Had I indeed heard a sound? -</p> - -<p> -I felt the pressure of Cavor’s hand upon my arm. He spoke in an -undertone, as though he feared to wake some sleeping thing. “Let us keep -together,” he whispered, “and look for the sphere. We must get back -to the sphere. This is beyond our understanding.” -</p> - -<p> -“Which way shall we go?” -</p> - -<p> -He hesitated. An intense persuasion of presences, of unseen things about us and -near us, dominated our minds. What could they be? Where could they be? Was this -arid desolation, alternately frozen and scorched, only the outer rind and mask -of some subterranean world? And if so, what sort of world? What sort of -inhabitants might it not presently disgorge upon us? -</p> - -<p> -And then, stabbing the aching stillness as vivid and sudden as an unexpected -thunderclap, came a clang and rattle as though great gates of metal had -suddenly been flung apart. -</p> - -<p> -It arrested our steps. We stood gaping helplessly. Then Cavor stole towards me. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not understand!” he whispered close to my face. He waved his -hand vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of still vaguer thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -“A hiding-place! If anything came...” -</p> - -<p> -I looked about us. I nodded my head in assent to him. -</p> - -<p> -We started off, moving stealthily with the most exaggerated precautions against -noise. We went towards a thicket of scrub. A clangour like hammers flung about -a boiler hastened our steps. “We must crawl,” whispered Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -The lower leaves of the bayonet plants, already overshadowed by the newer ones -above, were beginning to wilt and shrivel so that we could thrust our way in -among the thickening stems without serious injury. A stab in the face or arm we -did not heed. At the heart of the thicket I stopped, and stared panting into -Cavor’s face. -</p> - -<p> -“Subterranean,” he whispered. “Below.” -</p> - -<p> -“They may come out.” -</p> - -<p> -“We must find the sphere!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” I said; “but how?” -</p> - -<p> -“Crawl till we come to it.” -</p> - -<p> -“But if we don’t?” -</p> - -<p> -“Keep hidden. See what they are like.” -</p> - -<p> -“We will keep together,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He thought. “Which way shall we go?” -</p> - -<p> -“We must take our chance.” -</p> - -<p> -We peered this way and that. Then very circumspectly, we began to crawl through -the lower jungle, making, so far as we could judge, a circuit, halting now at -every waving fungus, at every sound, intent only on the sphere from which we -had so foolishly emerged. Ever and again from out of the earth beneath us came -concussions, beatings, strange, inexplicable, mechanical sounds; and once, and -then again, we thought we heard something, a faint rattle and tumult, borne to -us through the air. But fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage-point to -survey the crater. For long we saw nothing of the beings whose sounds were so -abundant and insistent. But for the faintness of our hunger and the drying of -our throats that crawling would have had the quality of a very vivid dream. It -was so absolutely unreal. The only element with any touch of reality was these -sounds. -</p> - -<p> -Picture it to yourself! About us the dream-like jungle, with the silent bayonet -leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, sun-splashed lichens under our -hands and knees, waving with the vigour of their growth as a carpet waves when -the wind gets beneath it. Ever and again one of the bladder fungi, bulging and -distending under the sun, loomed upon us. Ever and again some novel shape in -vivid colour obtruded. The very cells that built up these plants were as large -as my thumb, like beads of coloured glass. And all these things were saturated -in the unmitigated glare of the sun, were seen against a sky that was bluish -black and spangled still, in spite of the sunlight, with a few surviving stars. -Strange! the very forms and texture of the stones were strange. It was all -strange, the feeling of one’s body was unprecedented, every other -movement ended in a surprise. The breath sucked thin in one’s throat, the -blood flowed through one’s ears in a throbbing tide—thud, thud, -thud, thud.... -</p> - -<p> -And ever and again came gusts of turmoil, hammering, the clanging and throb of -machinery, and presently—the bellowing of great beasts! -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap11"></a>XI.<br /> -The Mooncalf Pastures</h2> - -<p> -So we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in that wild-growing moon jungle, -crawled in terror before the sounds that had come upon us. We crawled, as it -seemed, a long time before we saw either Selenite or mooncalf, though we heard -the bellowing and gruntulous noises of these latter continually drawing nearer -to us. We crawled through stony ravines, over snow slopes, amidst fungi that -ripped like thin bladders at our thrust, emitting a watery humour, over a -perfect pavement of things like puff-balls, and beneath interminable thickets -of scrub. And ever more helplessly our eyes sought for our abandoned sphere. -The noise of the mooncalves would at times be a vast flat calf-like sound, at -times it rose to an amazed and wrathy bellowing, and again it would become a -clogged bestial sound, as though these unseen creatures had sought to eat and -bellow at the same time. -</p> - -<p> -Our first view was but an inadequate transitory glimpse, yet none the less -disturbing because it was incomplete. Cavor was crawling in front at the time, -and he first was aware of their proximity. He stopped dead, arresting me with a -single gesture. -</p> - -<p> -A crackling and smashing of the scrub appeared to be advancing directly upon -us, and then, as we squatted close and endeavoured to judge of the nearness and -direction of this noise, there came a terrific bellow behind us, so close and -vehement that the tops of the bayonet scrub bent before it, and one felt the -breath of it hot and moist. And, turning about, we saw indistinctly through a -crowd of swaying stems the mooncalf’s shining sides, and the long line of -its back loomed out against the sky. -</p> - -<p> -Of course it is hard for me now to say how much I saw at that time, because my -impressions were corrected by subsequent observation. First of all impressions -was its enormous size; the girth of its body was some fourscore feet, its -length perhaps two hundred. Its sides rose and fell with its laboured -breathing. I perceived that its gigantic, flabby body lay along the ground, and -that its skin was of a corrugated white, dappling into blackness along the -backbone. But of its feet we saw nothing. I think also that we saw then the -profile at least of the almost brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, -its slobbering omnivorous mouth, its little nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For -the mooncalf invariably shuts its eyes in the presence of the sun.) We had a -glimpse of a vast red pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and bellow again; we -had a breath from the pit, and then the monster heeled over like a ship, -dragged forward along the ground, creasing all its leathery skin, rolled again, -and so wallowed past us, smashing a path amidst the scrub, and was speedily -hidden from our eyes by the dense interlacings beyond. Another appeared more -distantly, and then another, and then, as though he was guiding these animated -lumps of provender to their pasture, a Selenite came momentarily into ken. My -grip upon Cavor’s foot became convulsive at the sight of him, and we -remained motionless and peering long after he had passed out of our range. -</p> - -<p> -By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed a trivial being, a mere ant, scarcely -five feet high. He was wearing garments of some leathery substance, so that no -portion of his actual body appeared, but of this, of course, we were entirely -ignorant. He presented himself, therefore, as a compact, bristling creature, -having much of the quality of a complicated insect, with whip-like tentacles -and a clanging arm projecting from his shining cylindrical body case. The form -of his head was hidden by his enormous many-spiked helmet—we discovered -afterwards that he used the spikes for prodding refractory mooncalves—and -a pair of goggles of darkened glass, set very much at the side, gave a -bird-like quality to the metallic apparatus that covered his face. His arms did -not project beyond his body case, and he carried himself upon short legs that, -wrapped though they were in warm coverings, seemed to our terrestrial eyes -inordinately flimsy. They had very short thighs, very long shanks, and little -feet. -</p> - -<p> -In spite of his heavy-looking clothing, he was progressing with what would be, -from the terrestrial point of view, very considerable strides, and his clanging -arm was busy. The quality of his motion during the instant of his passing -suggested haste and a certain anger, and soon after we had lost sight of him we -heard the bellow of a mooncalf change abruptly into a short, sharp squeal -followed by the scuffle of its acceleration. And gradually that bellowing -receded, and then came to an end, as if the pastures sought had been attained. -</p> - -<p> -We listened. For a space the moon world was still. But it was some time before -we resumed our crawling search for the vanished sphere. -</p> - -<p> -When next we saw mooncalves they were some little distance away from us in a -place of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces of the rocks were thick with -a speckled green plant growing in dense mossy clumps, upon which these -creatures were browsing. We stopped at the edge of the reeds amidst which we -were crawling at the sight of them, peering out at then and looking round for a -second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay against their food like stupendous -slugs, huge, greasy hulls, eating greedily and noisily, with a sort of sobbing -avidity. They seemed monsters of mere fatness, clumsy and overwhelmed to a -degree that would make a Smithfield ox seem a model of agility. Their busy, -writhing, chewing mouths, and eyes closed, together with the appetising sound -of their munching, made up an effect of animal enjoyment that was singularly -stimulating to our empty frames. -</p> - -<p> -“Hogs!” said Cavor, with unusual passion. “Disgusting -hogs!” and after one glare of angry envy crawled off through the bushes -to our right. I stayed long enough to see that the speckled plant was quite -hopeless for human nourishment, then crawled after him, nibbling a quill of it -between my teeth. -</p> - -<p> -Presently we were arrested again by the proximity of a Selenite, and this time -we were able to observe him more exactly. Now we could see that the Selenite -covering was indeed clothing, and not a sort of crustacean integument. He was -quite similar in his costume to the former one we had glimpsed, except that -ends of something like wadding were protruding from his neck, and he stood on a -promontory of rock and moved his head this way and that, as though he was -surveying the crater. We lay quite still, fearing to attract his attention if -we moved, and after a time he turned about and disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -We came upon another drove of mooncalves bellowing up a ravine, and then we -passed over a place of sounds, sounds of beating machinery as if some huge hall -of industry came near the surface there. And while these sounds were still -about us we came to the edge of a great open space, perhaps two hundred yards -in diameter, and perfectly level. Save for a few lichens that advanced from its -margin this space was bare, and presented a powdery surface of a dusty yellow -colour. We were afraid to strike out across this space, but as it presented -less obstruction to our crawling than the scrub, we went down upon it and began -very circumspectly to skirt its edge. -</p> - -<p> -For a little while the noises from below ceased and everything, save for the -faint stir of the growing vegetation, was very still. Then abruptly there began -an uproar, louder, more vehement, and nearer than any we had so far heard. Of a -certainty it came from below. Instinctively we crouched as flat as we could, -ready for a prompt plunge into the thicket beside us. Each knock and throb -seemed to vibrate through our bodies. Louder grew this throbbing and beating, -and that irregular vibration increased until the whole moon world seemed to be -jerking and pulsing. -</p> - -<p> -“Cover,” whispered Cavor, and I turned towards the bushes. -</p> - -<p> -At that instant came a thud like the thud of a gun, and then a thing -happened—it still haunts me in my dreams. I had turned my head to look at -Cavor’s face, and thrust out my hand in front of me as I did so. And my -hand met nothing! I plunged suddenly into a bottomless hole! -</p> - -<p> -My chest hit something hard, and I found myself with my chin on the edge of an -unfathomable abyss that had suddenly opened beneath me, my hand extended -stiffly into the void. The whole of that flat circular area was no more than a -gigantic lid, that was now sliding sideways from off the pit it had covered -into a slot prepared for it. -</p> - -<p> -Had it not been for Cavor I think I should have remained rigid, hanging over -this margin and staring into the enormous gulf below, until at last the edges -of the slot scraped me off and hurled me into its depths. But Cavor had not -received the shock that had paralysed me. He had been a little distance from -the edge when the lid had first opened, and perceiving the peril that held me -helpless, gripped my legs and pulled me backward. I came into a sitting -position, crawled away from the edge for a space on all fours, then staggered -up and ran after him across the thundering, quivering sheet of metal. It seemed -to be swinging open with a steadily accelerated velocity, and the bushes in -front of me shifted sideways as I ran. -</p> - -<p> -I was none too soon. Cavor’s back vanished amidst the bristling thicket, -and as I scrambled up after him, the monstrous valve came into its position -with a clang. For a long time we lay panting, not daring to approach the pit. -</p> - -<p> -But at last very cautiously and bit by bit we crept into a position from which -we could peer down. The bushes about us creaked and waved with the force of a -breeze that was blowing down the shaft. We could see nothing at first except -smooth vertical walls descending at last into an impenetrable black. And then -very gradually we became aware of a number of very faint and little lights -going to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery held us so that we forgot even our -sphere. In time, as we grew more accustomed to the darkness, we could make out -very small, dim, elusive shapes moving about among those needle-point -illuminations. We peered amazed and incredulous, understanding so little that -we could find no words to say. We could distinguish nothing that would give us -a clue to the meaning of the faint shapes we saw. -</p> - -<p> -“What can it be?” I asked; “what can it be?” -</p> - -<p> -“The engineering!... They must live in these caverns during the night, -and come out during the day.” -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I said. “Can they be—<i>that</i>—it was -something like—men?” -</p> - -<p> -“<i>That</i> was not a man.” -</p> - -<p> -“We dare risk nothing!” -</p> - -<p> -“We dare do nothing until we find the sphere!” -</p> - -<p> -“We <i>can</i> do nothing until we find the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -He assented with a groan and stirred himself to move. He stared about him for a -space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We struck out through the jungle. For -a time we crawled resolutely, then with diminishing vigour. Presently among -great shapes of flabby purple there came a noise of trampling and cries about -us. We lay close, and for a long time the sounds went to and fro and very near. -But this time we saw nothing. I tried to whisper to Cavor that I could hardly -go without food much longer, but my mouth had become too dry for whispering. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “I must have food.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned a face full of dismay towards me. “It’s a case for -holding out,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“But I <i>must</i>,” I said, “and look at my lips!” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been thirsty some time.” -</p> - -<p> -“If only some of that snow had remained!” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s clean gone! We’re driving from arctic to tropical at -the rate of a degree a minute....” -</p> - -<p> -I gnawed my hand. -</p> - -<p> -“The sphere!” he said. “There is nothing for it but the -sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -We roused ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My mind ran entirely on -edible things, on the hissing profundity of summer drinks, more particularly I -craved for beer. I was haunted by the memory of a sixteen gallon cask that had -swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I thought of the adjacent larder, and especially -of steak and kidney pie—tender steak and plenty of kidney, and rich, -thick gravy between. Ever and again I was seized with fits of hungry yawning. -We came to flat places overgrown with fleshy red things, monstrous coralline -growths; as we pushed against them they snapped and broke. I noted the quality -of the broken surfaces. The confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable -texture. Then it seemed to me that it smelt rather well. -</p> - -<p> -I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said in a hoarse undertone. -</p> - -<p> -He glanced at me with his face screwed up. “Don’t,” he said. -I put down the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for -a space. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I asked, “why <i>not?</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“Poison,” I heard him say, but he did not look round. -</p> - -<p> -We crawled some way before I decided. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll chance it,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He crouched -watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression. “It’s -good,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“O Lord!” he cried. -</p> - -<p> -He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval, then -suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge mouthfuls. For a time -we did nothing but eat. -</p> - -<p> -The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer in -texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we -experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood began to -run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then new and slightly -irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s good,” said I. “Infernally good! What a home for -our surplus population! Our poor surplus population,” and I broke off -another large portion. It filled me with a curiously benevolent satisfaction -that there was such good food in the moon. The depression of my hunger gave way -to an irrational exhilaration. The dread and discomfort in which I had been -living vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no longer as a planet from which -I most earnestly desired the means of escape, but as a possible refuge from -human destitution. I think I forgot the Selenites, the mooncalves, the lid, and -the noises completely so soon as I had eaten that fungus. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor replied to my third repetition of my “surplus population” -remark with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put this -down to the stimulating effect of food after a long fast. “Ess’lent -discov’ry yours, Cavor,” said I. “Se’nd on’y to -the ‘tato.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whajer mean?” asked Cavor. “‘Scovery of the -moon—se’nd on’y to the tato?” -</p> - -<p> -I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly hoarse voice, and by the badness of -his articulation. It occurred to me in a flash that he was intoxicated, -possibly by the fungus. It also occurred to me that he erred in imagining that -he had discovered the moon; he had not discovered it, he had only reached it. I -tried to lay my hand on his arm and explain this to him, but the issue was too -subtle for his brain. It was also unexpectedly difficult to express. After a -momentary attempt to understand me—I remember wondering if the fungus had -made my eyes as fishy as his—he set off upon some observations on his own -account. -</p> - -<p> -“We are,” he announced with a solemn hiccup, “the creashurs -o’ what we eat and drink.” -</p> - -<p> -He repeated this, and as I was now in one of my subtle moods, I determined to -dispute it. Possibly I wandered a little from the point. But Cavor certainly -did not attend at all properly. He stood up as well as he could, putting a hand -on my head to steady himself, which was disrespectful, and stood staring about -him, quite devoid now of any fear of the moon beings. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to point out that this was dangerous for some reason that was not -perfectly clear to me, but the word “dangerous” had somehow got -mixed with “indiscreet,” and came out rather more like -“injurious” than either; and after an attempt to disentangle them, -I resumed my argument, addressing myself principally to the unfamiliar but -attentive coralline growths on either side. I felt that it was necessary to -clear up this confusion between the moon and a potato at once—I wandered -into a long parenthesis on the importance of precision of definition in -argument. I did my best to ignore the fact that my bodily sensations were no -longer agreeable. -</p> - -<p> -In some way that I have now forgotten, my mind was led back to projects of -colonisation. “We must annex this moon,” I said. “There must -be no shilly-shally. This is part of the White Man’s Burthen. -Cavor—we are—<i>hic</i>—Satap—mean Satraps! Nempire -Cæsar never dreamt. B’in all the newspapers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. -Bedfordecia—hic—Limited. Mean—unlimited! Practically.” -</p> - -<p> -Certainly I was intoxicated. -</p> - -<p> -I embarked upon an argument to show the infinite benefits our arrival would -confer on the moon. I involved myself in a rather difficult proof that the -arrival of Columbus was, on the whole, beneficial to America. I found I had -forgotten the line of argument I had intended to pursue, and continued to -repeat “sim’lar to C’lumbus,” to fill up time. -</p> - -<p> -From that point my memory of the action of that abominable fungus becomes -confused. I remember vaguely that we declared our intention of standing no -nonsense from any confounded insects, that we decided it ill became men to hide -shamefully upon a mere satellite, that we equipped ourselves with huge armfuls -of the fungus—whether for missile purposes or not I do not -know—and, heedless of the stabs of the bayonet scrub, we started forth -into the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -Almost immediately we must have come upon the Selenites. There were six of -them, and they were marching in single file over a rocky place, making the most -remarkable piping and whining sounds. They all seemed to become aware of us at -once, all instantly became silent and motionless, like animals, with their -faces turned towards us. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I was sobered. -</p> - -<p> -“Insects,” murmured Cavor, “insects! And they think I’m -going to crawl about on my stomach—on my vertebrated stomach! -</p> - -<p> -“Stomach,” he repeated slowly, as though he chewed the indignity. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly, with a sort of fury, he made three vast strides and leapt -towards them. He leapt badly; he made a series of somersaults in the air, -whirled right over them, and vanished with an enormous splash amidst the cactus -bladders. What the Selenites made of this amazing, and to my mind undignified -irruption from another planet, I have no means of guessing. I seem to remember -the sight of their backs as they ran in all directions, but I am not sure. All -these last incidents before oblivion came are vague and faint in my mind. I -know I made a step to follow Cavor, and tripped and fell headlong among the -rocks. I was, I am certain, suddenly and vehemently ill. I seem to remember a -violent struggle and being gripped by metallic clasps.... -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -My next clear recollection is that we were prisoners at we knew not what depths -beneath the moon’s surface; we were in darkness amidst strange -distracting noises; our bodies were covered with scratches and bruises, and our -heads racked with pain. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap12"></a>XII.<br /> -The Selenite’s Face</h2> - -<p> -I found myself sitting crouched together in a tumultuous darkness. For a long -time I could not understand where I was, nor how I had come to this perplexity. -I thought of the cupboard into which I had been thrust at times when I was a -child, and then of a very dark and noisy bedroom in which I had slept during an -illness. But these sounds about me were not the noises I had known, and there -was a thin flavour in the air like the wind of a stable. Then I supposed we -must still be at work upon the sphere, and that somehow I had got into the -cellar of Cavor’s house. I remembered we had finished the sphere, and -fancied I must still be in it and travelling through space. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “cannot we have some light?” -</p> - -<p> -There came no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I insisted. -</p> - -<p> -I was answered by a groan. “My head!” I heard him say; “my -head!” -</p> - -<p> -I attempted to press my hands to my brow, which ached, and discovered they were -tied together. This startled me very much. I brought them up to my mouth and -felt the cold smoothness of metal. They were chained together. I tried to -separate my legs and made out they were similarly fastened, and also that I was -fastened to the ground by a much thicker chain about the middle of my body. -</p> - -<p> -I was more frightened than I had yet been by anything in all our strange -experiences. For a time I tugged silently at my bonds. “Cavor!” I -cried out sharply. “Why am I tied? Why have you tied me hand and -foot?” -</p> - -<p> -“I haven’t tied you,” he answered. “It’s the -Selenites.” -</p> - -<p> -The Selenites! My mind hung on that for a space. Then my memories came back to -me: the snowy desolation, the thawing of the air, the growth of the plants, our -strange hopping and crawling among the rocks and vegetation of the crater. All -the distress of our frantic search for the sphere returned to me.... Finally -the opening of the great lid that covered the pit! -</p> - -<p> -Then as I strained to trace our later movements down to our present plight, the -pain in my head became intolerable. I came to an insurmountable barrier, an -obstinate blank. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“Where are we?” -</p> - -<p> -“How should I know?” -</p> - -<p> -“Are we dead?” -</p> - -<p> -“What nonsense!” -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve got us, then!” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer but a grunt. The lingering traces of the poison seemed to -make him oddly irritable. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“How should I know what to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, very well!” said I, and became silent. Presently, I was roused -from a stupor. “O <i>Lord!</i>” I cried; “I wish you’d -stop that buzzing!” -</p> - -<p> -We lapsed into silence again, listening to the dull confusion of noises like -the muffled sounds of a street or factory that filled our ears. I could make -nothing of it, my mind pursued first one rhythm and then another, and -questioned it in vain. But after a long time I became aware of a new and -sharper element, not mingling with the rest but standing out, as it were, -against that cloudy background of sound. It was a series of relatively very -little definite sounds, tappings and rubbings, like a loose spray of ivy -against a window or a bird moving about upon a box. We listened and peered -about us, but the darkness was a velvet pall. There followed a noise like the -subtle movement of the wards of a well-oiled lock. And then there appeared -before me, hanging as it seemed in an immensity of black, a thin bright line. -</p> - -<p> -“Look!” whispered Cavor very softly. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know.” -</p> - -<p> -We stared. -</p> - -<p> -The thin bright line became a band, and broader and paler. It took upon itself -the quality of a bluish light falling upon a white-washed wall. It ceased to be -parallel-sided; it developed a deep indentation on one side. I turned to remark -this to Cavor, and was amazed to see his ear in a brilliant -illumination—all the rest of him in shadow. I twisted my head round as -well as my bonds would permit. “Cavor,” I said, “it’s -behind!” -</p> - -<p> -His ear vanished—gave place to an eye! -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly the crack that had been admitting the light broadened out, and -revealed itself as the space of an opening door. Beyond was a sapphire vista, -and in the doorway stood a grotesque outline silhouetted against the glare. -</p> - -<p> -We both made convulsive efforts to turn, and failing, sat staring over our -shoulders at this. My first impression was of some clumsy quadruped with -lowered head. Then I perceived it was the slender pinched body and short and -extremely attenuated bandy legs of a Selenite, with his head depressed between -his shoulders. He was without the helmet and body covering they wear upon the -exterior. -</p> - -<p> -He was a blank, black figure to us, but instinctively our imaginations supplied -features to his very human outline. I, at least, took it instantly that he was -somewhat hunchbacked, with a high forehead and long features. -</p> - -<p> -He came forward three steps and paused for a time. His movements seemed -absolutely noiseless. Then he came forward again. He walked like a bird, his -feet fell one in front of the other. He stepped out of the ray of light that -came through the doorway, and it seemed as though he vanished altogether in the -shadow. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment my eyes sought him in the wrong place, and then I perceived him -standing facing us both in the full light. Only the human features I had -attributed to him were not there at all! -</p> - -<p> -Of course I ought to have expected that, only I didn’t. It came to me as -an absolute, for a moment an overwhelming shock. It seemed as though it -wasn’t a face, as though it must needs be a mask, a horror, a deformity, -that would presently be disavowed or explained. There was no nose, and the -thing had dull bulging eyes at the side—in the silhouette I had supposed -they were ears. There were no ears.... I have tried to draw one of these heads, -but I cannot. There was a mouth, downwardly curved, like a human mouth in a -face that stares ferociously.... -</p> - -<p> -The neck on which the head was poised was jointed in three places, almost like -the short joints in the leg of a crab. The joints of the limbs I could not see, -because of the puttee-like straps in which they were swathed, and which formed -the only clothing the being wore. -</p> - -<p> -There the thing was, looking at us! -</p> - -<p> -At the time my mind was taken up by the mad impossibility of the creature. I -suppose he also was amazed, and with more reason, perhaps, for amazement than -we. Only, confound him! he did not show it. We did at least know what had -brought about this meeting of incompatible creatures. But conceive how it would -seem to decent Londoners, for example, to come upon a couple of living things, -as big as men and absolutely unlike any other earthly animals, careering about -among the sheep in Hyde Park! It must have taken him like that. -</p> - -<p> -Figure us! We were bound hand and foot, fagged and filthy; our beards two -inches long, our faces scratched and bloody. Cavor you must imagine in his -knickerbockers (torn in several places by the bayonet scrub) his Jaegar shirt -and old cricket cap, his wiry hair wildly disordered, a tail to every quarter -of the heavens. In that blue light his face did not look red but very dark, his -lips and the drying blood upon my hands seemed black. If possible I was in a -worse plight than he, on account of the yellow fungus into which I had jumped. -Our jackets were unbuttoned, and our shoes had been taken off and lay at our -feet. And we were sitting with our backs to this queer bluish light, peering at -such a monster as Durer might have invented. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor broke the silence; started to speak, went hoarse, and cleared his throat. -Outside began a terrific bellowing, as if a mooncalf were in trouble. It ended -in a shriek, and everything was still again. -</p> - -<p> -Presently the Selenite turned about, flickered into the shadow, stood for a -moment retrospective at the door, and then closed it on us; and once more we -were in that murmurous mystery of darkness into which we had awakened. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap13"></a>XIII.<br /> -Mr. Cavor Makes Some Suggestions</h2> - -<p> -For a time neither of us spoke. To focus together all the things we had brought -upon ourselves seemed beyond my mental powers. -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve got us,” I said at last. -</p> - -<p> -“It was that fungus.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well—if I hadn’t taken it we should have fainted and -starved.” -</p> - -<p> -“We might have found the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -I lost my temper at his persistence, and swore to myself. For a time we hated -one another in silence. I drummed with my fingers on the floor between my -knees, and gritted the links of my fetters together. Presently I was forced to -talk again. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you make of it, anyhow?” I asked humbly. -</p> - -<p> -“They are reasonable creatures—they can make things and do things. -Those lights we saw...” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped. It was clear he could make nothing of it. -</p> - -<p> -When he spoke again it was to confess, “After all, they are more human -than we had a right to expect. I suppose—” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped irritatingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose, anyhow—on any planet where there is an intelligent -animal—it will carry its brain case upward, and have hands, and walk -erect.” -</p> - -<p> -Presently he broke away in another direction. -</p> - -<p> -“We are some way in,” he said. “I mean—perhaps a couple -of thousand feet or more.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s cooler. And our voices are so much louder. That faded -quality—it has altogether gone. And the feeling in one’s ears and -throat.” -</p> - -<p> -I had not noted that, but I did now. -</p> - -<p> -“The air is denser. We must be some depths—a mile even, we may -be—inside the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“We never thought of a world inside the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“How could we?” -</p> - -<p> -“We might have done. Only one gets into habits of mind.” -</p> - -<p> -He thought for a time. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Now</i>,” he said, “it seems such an obvious -thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course! The moon must be enormously cavernous, with an atmosphere -within, and at the centre of its caverns a sea. -</p> - -<p> -“One knew that the moon had a lower specific gravity than the earth, one -knew that it had little air or water outside, one knew, too, that it was sister -planet to the earth, and that it was unaccountable that it should be different -in composition. The inference that it was hollowed out was as clear as day. And -yet one never saw it as a fact. Kepler, of course—” -</p> - -<p> -His voice had the interest now of a man who has discerned a pretty sequence of -reasoning. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said, “Kepler with his <i>sub-volvani</i> was right -after all.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish you had taken the trouble to find that out before we came,” -I said. -</p> - -<p> -He answered nothing, buzzing to himself softly, as he pursued his thoughts. My -temper was going. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you think has become of the sphere, anyhow?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Lost,” he said, like a man who answers an uninteresting question. -</p> - -<p> -“Among those plants?” -</p> - -<p> -“Unless they find it.” -</p> - -<p> -“And then?” -</p> - -<p> -“How can I tell?” -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, with a sort of hysterical bitterness, -“things look bright for my Company...” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “Just think of all the trouble we -took to get into this pickle! What did we come for? What are we after? What was -the moon to us or we to the moon? We wanted too much, we tried too much. We -ought to have started the little things first. It was you proposed the moon! -Those Cavorite spring blinds! I am certain we could have worked them for -terrestrial purposes. Certain! Did you really understand what I proposed? A -steel cylinder—” -</p> - -<p> -“Rubbish!” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -We ceased to converse. -</p> - -<p> -For a time Cavor kept up a broken monologue without much help from me. -</p> - -<p> -“If they find it,” he began, “if they find it ... what will -they do with it? Well, that’s a question. It may be that’s -<i>the</i> question. They won’t understand it, anyhow. If they understood -that sort of thing they would have come long since to the earth. Would they? -Why shouldn’t they? But they would have sent something—they -couldn’t keep their hands off such a possibility. No! But they will -examine it. Clearly they are intelligent and inquisitive. They will examine -it—get inside it—trifle with the studs. Off! ... That would mean -the moon for us for all the rest of our lives. Strange creatures, strange -knowledge....” -</p> - -<p> -“As for strange knowledge—” said I, and language failed me. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here, Bedford,” said Cavor, “you came on this -expedition of your own free will.” -</p> - -<p> -“You said to me, ‘Call it prospecting’.” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s always risks in prospecting.” -</p> - -<p> -“Especially when you do it unarmed and without thinking out every -possibility.” -</p> - -<p> -“I was so taken up with the sphere. The thing rushed on us, and carried -us away.” -</p> - -<p> -“Rushed on <i>me</i>, you mean.” -</p> - -<p> -“Rushed on me just as much. How was I to know when I set to work on -molecular physics that the business would bring me here—of all -places?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s this accursed science,” I cried. “It’s the -very Devil. The mediæval priests and persecutors were right and the Moderns are -all wrong. You tamper with it—and it offers you gifts. And directly you -take them it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way. Old passions and new -weapons—now it upsets your religion, now it upsets your social ideas, now -it whirls you off to desolation and misery!” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow, it’s no use your quarrelling with me <i>now</i>. These -creatures—these Selenites, or whatever we choose to call them—have -got us tied hand and foot. Whatever temper you choose to go through with it in, -you will have to go through with it.... We have experiences before us that will -need all our coolness.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused as if he required my assent. But I sat sulking. “Confound your -science!” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“The problem is communication. Gestures, I fear, will be different. -Pointing, for example. No creatures but men and monkeys point.” -</p> - -<p> -That was too obviously wrong for me. “Pretty nearly every animal,” -I cried, “points with its eyes or nose.” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor meditated over that. “Yes,” he said at last, “and we -don’t. There’s such differences—such differences!” -</p> - -<p> -“One might.... But how can I tell? There is speech. The sounds they make, -a sort of fluting and piping. I don’t see how we are to imitate that. Is -it their speech, that sort of thing? They may have different senses, different -means of communication. Of course they are minds and we are minds; there must -be something in common. Who knows how far we may not get to an -understanding?” -</p> - -<p> -“The things are outside us,” I said. “They’re more -different from us than the strangest animals on earth. They are a different -clay. What is the good of talking like this?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor thought. “I don’t see that. Where there are minds they will -have something <i>similar</i>—even though they have been evolved on -different planets. Of course if it was a question of instincts, if we or they -are no more than animals—” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, <i>are</i> they? They’re much more like ants on their hind -legs than human beings, and who ever got to any sort of understanding with -ants?” -</p> - -<p> -“But these machines and clothing! No, I don’t hold with you, -Bedford. The difference is wide—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s insurmountable.” -</p> - -<p> -“The resemblance must bridge it. I remember reading once a paper by the -late Professor Galton on the possibility of communication between the planets. -Unhappily, at that time it did not seem probable that that would be of any -material benefit to me, and I fear I did not give it the attention I should -have done—in view of this state of affairs. Yet.... Now, let me see! -</p> - -<p> -“His idea was to begin with those broad truths that must underlie all -conceivable mental existences and establish a basis on those. The great -principles of geometry, to begin with. He proposed to take some leading -proposition of Euclid’s, and show by construction that its truth was -known to us, to demonstrate, for example, that the angles at the base of an -isosceles triangle are equal, and that if the equal sides be produced the -angles on the other side of the base are equal also, or that the square on the -hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares on the -two other sides. By demonstrating our knowledge of these things we should -demonstrate our possession of a reasonable intelligence.... Now, suppose I ... -I might draw the geometrical figure with a wet finger, or even trace it in the -air....” -</p> - -<p> -He fell silent. I sat meditating his words. For a time his wild hope of -communication, of interpretation, with these weird beings held me. Then that -angry despair that was a part of my exhaustion and physical misery resumed its -sway. I perceived with a sudden novel vividness the extraordinary folly of -everything I had ever done. “Ass!” I said; “oh, ass, -unutterable ass.... I seem to exist only to go about doing preposterous things. -Why did we ever leave the thing? ... Hopping about looking for patents and -concessions in the craters of the moon!... If only we had had the sense to -fasten a handkerchief to a stick to show where we had left the sphere!” -</p> - -<p> -I subsided, fuming. -</p> - -<p> -“It is clear,” meditated Cavor, “they are intelligent. One -can hypothecate certain things. As they have not killed us at once, they must -have ideas of mercy. Mercy! at any rate of restraint. Possibly of intercourse. -They may meet us. And this apartment and the glimpses we had of its guardian. -These fetters! A high degree of intelligence...” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish to heaven,” cried I, “I’d thought even twice! -Plunge after plunge. First one fluky start and then another. It was my -confidence in you! <i>Why</i> didn’t I stick to my play? That was what I -was equal to. That was my world and the life I was made for. I could have -finished that play. I’m certain ... it was a good play. I had the -scenario as good as done. Then.... Conceive it! leaping to the moon! -Practically—I’ve thrown my life away! That old woman in the inn -near Canterbury had better sense.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. The darkness had given place to that -bluish light again. The door was opening, and several noiseless Selenites were -coming into the chamber. I became quite still, staring at their grotesque -faces. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable strangeness changed to interest. I -perceived that the foremost and second carried bowls. One elemental need at -least our minds could understand in common. They were bowls of some metal that, -like our fetters, looked dark in that bluish light; and each contained a number -of whitish fragments. All the cloudy pain and misery that oppressed me rushed -together and took the shape of hunger. I eyed these bowls wolfishly, and, -though it returned to me in dreams, at that time it seemed a small matter that -at the end of the arms that lowered one towards me were not hands, but a sort -of flap and thumb, like the end of an elephant’s trunk. The stuff in the -bowl was loose in texture, and whitish brown in colour—rather like lumps -of some cold souffle, and it smelt faintly like mushrooms. From a partially -divided carcass of a mooncalf that we presently saw, I am inclined to believe -it must have been mooncalf flesh. -</p> - -<p> -My hands were so tightly chained that I could barely contrive to reach the -bowl; but when they saw the effort I made, two of them dexterously released one -of the turns about my wrist. Their tentacle hands were soft and cold to my -skin. I immediately seized a mouthful of the food. It had the same laxness in -texture that all organic structures seem to have upon the moon; it tasted -rather like a gauffre or a damp meringue, but in no way was it disagreeable. I -took two other mouthfuls. “I <i>wanted</i>—foo’!” said -I, tearing off a still larger piece.... -</p> - -<p> -For a time we ate with an utter absence of self-consciousness. We ate and -presently drank like tramps in a soup kitchen. Never before nor since have I -been hungry to the ravenous pitch, and save that I have had this very -experience I could never have believed that, a quarter of a million of miles -out of our proper world, in utter perplexity of soul, surrounded, watched, -touched by beings more grotesque and inhuman than the worst creations of a -nightmare, it would be possible for me to eat in utter forgetfulness of all -these things. They stood about us watching us, and ever and again making a -slight elusive twittering that stood, I suppose, in the stead of speech. I did -not even shiver at their touch. And when the first zeal of my feeding was over, -I could note that Cavor, too, had been eating with the same shameless abandon. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap14"></a>XIV.<br /> -Experiments in intercourse</h2> - -<p> -When at last we had made an end of eating, the Selenites linked our hands -closely together again, and then untwisted the chains about our feet and -rebound them, so as to give us a limited freedom of movement. Then they -unfastened the chains about our waists. To do all this they had to handle us -freely, and ever and again one of their queer heads came down close to my face, -or a soft tentacle-hand touched my head or neck. I don’t remember that I -was afraid then or repelled by their proximity. I think that our incurable -anthropomorphism made us imagine there were human heads inside their masks. The -skin, like everything else, looked bluish, but that was on account of the -light; and it was hard and shiny, quite in the beetle-wing fashion, not soft, -or moist, or hairy, as a vertebrated animal’s would be. Along the crest -of the head was a low ridge of whitish spines running from back to front, and a -much larger ridge curved on either side over the eyes. The Selenite who untied -me used his mouth to help his hands. -</p> - -<p> -“They seem to be releasing us,” said Cavor. “Remember we are -on the moon! Make no sudden movements!” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you going to try that geometry?” -</p> - -<p> -“If I get a chance. But, of course, they may make an advance -first.” -</p> - -<p> -We remained passive, and the Selenites, having finished their arrangements, -stood back from us, and seemed to be looking at us. I say seemed to be, because -as their eyes were at the side and not in front, one had the same difficulty in -determining the direction in which they were looking as one has in the case of -a hen or a fish. They conversed with one another in their reedy tones, that -seemed to me impossible to imitate or define. The door behind us opened wider, -and, glancing over my shoulder, I saw a vague large space beyond, in which -quite a little crowd of Selenites were standing. They seemed a curiously -miscellaneous rabble. -</p> - -<p> -“Do they want us to imitate those sounds?” I asked Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t think so,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to me that they are trying to make us understand -something.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t make anything of their gestures. Do you notice this one, -who is worrying with his head like a man with an uncomfortable collar?” -</p> - -<p> -“Let us shake our heads at him.” -</p> - -<p> -We did that, and finding it ineffectual, attempted an imitation of the -Selenites’ movements. That seemed to interest them. At any rate they all -set up the same movement. But as that seemed to lead to nothing, we desisted at -last and so did they, and fell into a piping argument among themselves. Then -one of them, shorter and very much thicker than the others, and with a -particularly wide mouth, squatted down suddenly beside Cavor, and put his hands -and feet in the same posture as Cavor’s were bound, and then by a -dexterous movement stood up. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I shouted, “they want us to get up!” -</p> - -<p> -He stared open-mouthed. “That’s it!” he said. -</p> - -<p> -And with much heaving and grunting, because our hands were tied together, we -contrived to struggle to our feet. The Selenites made way for our elephantine -heavings, and seemed to twitter more volubly. As soon as we were on our feet -the thick-set Selenite came and patted each of our faces with his tentacles, -and walked towards the open doorway. That also was plain enough, and we -followed him. We saw that four of the Selenites standing in the doorway were -much taller than the others, and clothed in the same manner as those we had -seen in the crater, namely, with spiked round helmets and cylindrical -body-cases, and that each of the four carried a goad with spike and guard made -of that same dull-looking metal as the bowls. These four closed about us, one -on either side of each of us, as we emerged from our chamber into the cavern -from which the light had come. -</p> - -<p> -We did not get our impression of that cavern all at once. Our attention was -taken up by the movements and attitudes of the Selenites immediately about us, -and by the necessity of controlling our motion, lest we should startle and -alarm them and ourselves by some excessive stride. In front of us was the -short, thick-set being who had solved the problem of asking us to get up, -moving with gestures that seemed, almost all of them, intelligible to us, -inviting us to follow him. His spout-like face turned from one of us to the -other with a quickness that was clearly interrogative. For a time, I say, we -were taken up with these things. -</p> - -<p> -But at last the great place that formed a background to our movements asserted -itself. It became apparent that the source of much, at least, of the tumult of -sounds which had filled our ears ever since we had recovered from the -stupefaction of the fungus was a vast mass of machinery in active movement, -whose flying and whirling parts were visible indistinctly over the heads and -between the bodies of the Selenites who walked about us. And not only did the -web of sounds that filled the air proceed from this mechanism, but also the -peculiar blue light that irradiated the whole place. We had taken it as a -natural thing that a subterranean cavern should be artificially lit, and even -now, though the fact was patent to my eyes, I did not really grasp its import -until presently the darkness came. The meaning and structure of this huge -apparatus we saw I cannot explain, because we neither of us learnt what it was -for or how it worked. One after another, big shafts of metal flung out and up -from its centre, their heads travelling in what seemed to me to be a parabolic -path; each dropped a sort of dangling arm as it rose towards the apex of its -flight and plunged down into a vertical cylinder, forcing this down before it. -About it moved the shapes of tenders, little figures that seemed vaguely -different from the beings about us. As each of the three dangling arms of the -machine plunged down, there was a clank and then a roaring, and out of the top -of the vertical cylinder came pouring this incandescent substance that lit the -place, and ran over as milk runs over a boiling pot, and dripped luminously -into a tank of light below. It was a cold blue light, a sort of phosphorescent -glow but infinitely brighter, and from the tanks into which it fell it ran in -conduits athwart the cavern. -</p> - -<p> -Thud, thud, thud, thud, came the sweeping arms of this unintelligible -apparatus, and the light substance hissed and poured. At first the thing seemed -only reasonably large and near to us, and then I saw how exceedingly little the -Selenites upon it seemed, and I realised the full immensity of cavern and -machine. I looked from this tremendous affair to the faces of the Selenites -with a new respect. I stopped, and Cavor stopped, and stared at this thunderous -engine. -</p> - -<p> -“But this is stupendous!” I said. “What can it be for?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor’s blue-lit face was full of an intelligent respect. “I -can’t dream! Surely these beings— Men could not make a thing like -that! Look at those arms, are they on connecting rods?” -</p> - -<p> -The thick-set Selenite had gone some paces unheeded. He came back and stood -between us and the great machine. I avoided seeing him, because I guessed -somehow that his idea was to beckon us onward. He walked away in the direction -he wished us to go, and turned and came back, and flicked our faces to attract -our attention. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor and I looked at one another. -</p> - -<p> -“Cannot we show him we are interested in the machine?” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” said Cavor. “We’ll try that.” He turned to -our guide and smiled, and pointed to the machine, and pointed again, and then -to his head, and then to the machine. By some defect of reasoning he seemed to -imagine that broken English might help these gestures. “Me look -‘im,” he said, “me think ‘im very much. Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -His behaviour seemed to check the Selenites in their desire for our progress -for a moment. They faced one another, their queer heads moved, the twittering -voices came quick and liquid. Then one of them, a lean, tall creature, with a -sort of mantle added to the puttee in which the others were dressed, twisted -his elephant trunk of a hand about Cavor’s waist, and pulled him gently -to follow our guide, who again went on ahead. Cavor resisted. “We may -just as well begin explaining ourselves now. They may think we are new animals, -a new sort of mooncalf perhaps! It is most important that we should show an -intelligent interest from the outset.” -</p> - -<p> -He began to shake his head violently. “No, no,” he said, “me -not come on one minute. Me look at ‘im.” -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t there some geometrical point you might bring in -<i>apropos</i> of that affair?” I suggested, as the Selenites conferred -again. -</p> - -<p> -“Possibly a parabolic—” he began. -</p> - -<p> -He yelled loudly, and leaped six feet or more! -</p> - -<p> -One of the four armed moon-men had pricked him with a goad! -</p> - -<p> -I turned on the goad-bearer behind me with a swift threatening gesture, and he -started back. This and Cavor’s sudden shout and leap clearly astonished -all the Selenites. They receded hastily, facing us. For one of those moments -that seem to last for ever, we stood in angry protest, with a scattered -semicircle of these inhuman beings about us. -</p> - -<p> -“He pricked me!” said Cavor, with a catching of the voice. -</p> - -<p> -“I saw him,” I answered. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said to the Selenites; “we’re not -going to stand that! What on earth do you take us for?” -</p> - -<p> -I glanced quickly right and left. Far away across the blue wilderness of cavern -I saw a number of other Selenites running towards us; broad and slender they -were, and one with a larger head than the others. The cavern spread wide and -low, and receded in every direction into darkness. Its roof, I remember, seemed -to bulge down as if with the weight of the vast thickness of rocks that -prisoned us. There was no way out of it—no way out of it. Above, below, -in every direction, was the unknown, and these inhuman creatures, with goads -and gestures, confronting us, and we two unsupported men! -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap15"></a>XV.<br /> -The Giddy Bridge</h2> - -<p> -Just for a moment that hostile pause endured. I suppose that both we and the -Selenites did some very rapid thinking. My clearest impression was that there -was nothing to put my back against, and that we were bound to be surrounded and -killed. The overwhelming folly of our presence there loomed over me in black, -enormous reproach. Why had I ever launched myself on this mad, inhuman -expedition? -</p> - -<p> -Cavor came to my side and laid his hand on my arm. His pale and terrified face -was ghastly in the blue light. -</p> - -<p> -“We can’t do anything,” he said. “It’s a mistake. -They don’t understand. We must go. As they want us to go.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked down at him, and then at the fresh Selenites who were coming to help -their fellows. “If I had my hands free—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s no use,” he panted. -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll go.” -</p> - -<p> -And he turned about and led the way in the direction that had been indicated -for us. -</p> - -<p> -I followed, trying to look as subdued as possible, and feeling at the chains -about my wrists. My blood was boiling. I noted nothing more of that cavern, -though it seemed to take a long time before we had marched across it, or if I -noted anything I forgot it as I saw it. My thoughts were concentrated, I think, -upon my chains and the Selenites, and particularly upon the helmeted ones with -the goads. At first they marched parallel with us, and at a respectful -distance, but presently they were overtaken by three others, and then they drew -nearer, until they were within arms length again. I winced like a beaten horse -as they came near to us. The shorter, thicker Selenite marched at first on our -right flank, but presently came in front of us again. -</p> - -<p> -How well the picture of that grouping has bitten into my brain; the back of -Cavor’s downcast head just in front of me, and the dejected droop of his -shoulders, and our guide’s gaping visage, perpetually jerking about him, -and the goad-bearers on either side, watchful, yet open-mouthed—a blue -monochrome. And after all, I <i>do</i> remember one other thing besides the -purely personal affair, which is, that a sort of gutter came presently across -the floor of the cavern, and then ran along by the side of the path of rock we -followed. And it was full of that same bright blue luminous stuff that flowed -out of the great machine. I walked close beside it, and I can testify it -radiated not a particle of heat. It was brightly shining, and yet it was -neither warmer nor colder than anything else in the cavern. -</p> - -<p> -Clang, clang, clang, we passed right under the thumping levers of another vast -machine, and so came at last to a wide tunnel, in which we could even hear the -pad, pad, of our shoeless feet, and which, save for the trickling thread of -blue to the right of us, was quite unlit. The shadows made gigantic travesties -of our shapes and those of the Selenites on the irregular wall and roof of the -tunnel. Ever and again crystals in the walls of the tunnel scintillated like -gems, ever and again the tunnel expanded into a stalactitic cavern, or gave off -branches that vanished into darkness. -</p> - -<p> -We seemed to be marching down that tunnel for a long time. “Trickle, -trickle,” went the flowing light very softly, and our footfalls and their -echoes made an irregular paddle, paddle. My mind settled down to the question -of my chains. If I were to slip off one turn <i>so</i>, and then to twist it -<i>so</i> ... -</p> - -<p> -If I tried to do it very gradually, would they see I was slipping my wrist out -of the looser turn? If they did, what would they do? -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford,” said Cavor, “it goes down. It keeps on going -down.” -</p> - -<p> -His remark roused me from my sullen pre-occupation. -</p> - -<p> -“If they wanted to kill us,” he said, dropping back to come level -with me, “there is no reason why they should not have done it.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I admitted, “that’s true.” -</p> - -<p> -“They don’t understand us,” he said, “they think we are -merely strange animals, some wild sort of mooncalf birth, perhaps. It will be -only when they have observed us better that they will begin to think we have -minds—” -</p> - -<p> -“When you trace those geometrical problems,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“It may be that.” -</p> - -<p> -We tramped on for a space. -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” said Cavor, “these may be Selenites of a lower -class.” -</p> - -<p> -“The infernal fools!” said I viciously, glancing at their -exasperating faces. -</p> - -<p> -“If we endure what they do to us—” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ve got to endure it,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“There may be others less stupid. This is the mere outer fringe of their -world. It must go down and down, cavern, passage, tunnel, down at last to the -sea—hundreds of miles below.” -</p> - -<p> -His words made me think of the mile or so of rock and tunnel that might be over -our heads already. It was like a weight dropping on my shoulders. “Away -from the sun and air,” I said. “Even a mine half a mile deep is -stuffy.” -</p> - -<p> -“This is not, anyhow. It’s probable—Ventilation! The air -would blow from the dark side of the moon to the sunlit, and all the carbonic -acid would well out there and feed those plants. Up this tunnel, for example, -there is quite a breeze. And what a world it must be. The earnest we have in -that shaft, and those machines—” -</p> - -<p> -“And the goad,” I said. “Don’t forget the goad!” -</p> - -<p> -He walked a little in front of me for a time. -</p> - -<p> -“Even that goad—” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“I was angry at the time. But—it was perhaps necessary we should -get on. They have different skins, and probably different nerves. They may not -understand our objection—just as a being from Mars might not like our -earthly habit of nudging.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’d better be careful how they nudge <i>me</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“And about that geometry. After all, their way is a way of understanding, -too. They begin with the elements of life and not of thought. Food. Compulsion. -Pain. They strike at fundamentals.” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s no doubt about <i>that</i>,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He went on to talk of the enormous and wonderful world into which we were being -taken. I realised slowly from his tone, that even now he was not absolutely in -despair at the prospect of going ever deeper into this inhuman planet-burrow. -His mind ran on machines and invention, to the exclusion of a thousand dark -things that beset me. It wasn’t that he intended to make any use of these -things, he simply wanted to know them. -</p> - -<p> -“After all,” he said, “this is a tremendous occasion. It is -the meeting of two worlds! What are we going to see? Think of what is below us -here.” -</p> - -<p> -“We shan’t see much if the light isn’t better,” I -remarked. -</p> - -<p> -“This is only the outer crust. Down below— On this scale— -There will be everything. Do you notice how different they seem one from -another? The story we shall take back!” -</p> - -<p> -“Some rare sort of animal,” I said, “might comfort himself in -that way while they were bringing him to the Zoo.... It doesn’t follow -that we are going to be shown all these things.” -</p> - -<p> -“When they find we have reasonable minds,” said Cavor, “they -will want to learn about the earth. Even if they have no generous emotions, -they will teach in order to learn.... And the things they must know! The -unanticipated things!” -</p> - -<p> -He went on to speculate on the possibility of their knowing things he had never -hoped to learn on earth, speculating in that way, with a raw wound from that -goad already in his skin! Much that he said I forget, for my attention was -drawn to the fact that the tunnel along which we had been marching was opening -out wider and wider. We seemed, from the feeling of the air, to be going out -into a huge space. But how big the space might really be we could not tell, -because it was unlit. Our little stream of light ran in a dwindling thread and -vanished far ahead. Presently the rocky walls had vanished altogether on either -hand. There was nothing to be seen but the path in front of us and the -trickling hurrying rivulet of blue phosphorescence. The figures of Cavor and -the guiding Selenite marched before me, the sides of their legs and heads that -were towards the rivulet were clear and bright blue, their darkened sides, now -that the reflection of the tunnel wall no longer lit them, merged -indistinguishably in the darkness beyond. -</p> - -<p> -And soon I perceived that we were approaching a declivity of some sort, because -the little blue stream dipped suddenly out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -In another moment, as it seemed, we had reached the edge. The shining stream -gave one meander of hesitation and then rushed over. It fell to a depth at -which the sound of its descent was absolutely lost to us. Far below was a -bluish glow, a sort of blue mist—at an infinite distance below. And the -darkness the stream dropped out of became utterly void and black, save that a -thing like a plank projected from the edge of the cliff and stretched out and -faded and vanished altogether. There was a warm air blowing up out of the gulf. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I and Cavor stood as near the edge as we dared, peering into a -blue-tinged profundity. And then our guide was pulling at my arm. -</p> - -<p> -Then he left me, and walked to the end of that plank and stepped upon it, -looking back. Then when he perceived we watched him, he turned about and went -on along it, walking as surely as though he was on firm earth. For a moment his -form was distinct, then he became a blue blur, and then vanished into the -obscurity. I became aware of some vague shape looming darkly out of the black. -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause. “Surely!—” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -One of the other Selenites walked a few paces out upon the plank, and turned -and looked back at us unconcernedly. The others stood ready to follow after us. -Our guide’s expectant figure reappeared. He was returning to see why we -had not advanced. -</p> - -<p> -“What is that beyond there?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t see.” -</p> - -<p> -“We can’t cross this at any price,” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“I could not go three steps on it,” said Cavor, “even with my -hands free.” -</p> - -<p> -We looked at each other’s drawn faces in blank consternation. -</p> - -<p> -“They can’t know what it is to be giddy!” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s quite impossible for us to walk that plank.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t believe they see as we do. I’ve been watching them. -I wonder if they know this is simply blackness for us. How can we make them -understand?” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow, we must make them understand.” -</p> - -<p> -I think we said these things with a vague half hope the Selenites might somehow -understand. I knew quite clearly that all that was needed was an explanation. -Then as I saw their faces, I realised that an explanation was impossible. Just -here it was that our resemblances were not going to bridge our differences. -Well, I wasn’t going to walk the plank, anyhow. I slipped my wrist very -quickly out of the coil of chain that was loose, and then began to twist my -wrists in opposite directions. I was standing nearest to the bridge, and as I -did this two of the Selenites laid hold of me, and pulled me gently towards it. -</p> - -<p> -I shook my head violently. “No go,” I said, “no use. You -don’t understand.” -</p> - -<p> -Another Selenite added his compulsion. I was forced to step forward. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve got an idea,” said Cavor; but I knew his ideas. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here!” I exclaimed to the Selenites. “Steady on! -It’s all very well for you—” -</p> - -<p> -I sprang round upon my heel. I burst out into curses. For one of the armed -Selenites had stabbed me behind with his goad. -</p> - -<p> -I wrenched my wrists free from the little tentacles that held them. I turned on -the goad-bearer. “Confound you!” I cried. “I’ve warned -you of that. What on earth do you think I’m made of, to stick that into -me? If you touch me again—” -</p> - -<p> -By way of answer he pricked me forthwith. -</p> - -<p> -I heard Cavor’s voice in alarm and entreaty. Even then I think he wanted -to compromise with these creatures. “I say, Bedford,” he cried, -“I know a way!” But the sting of that second stab seemed to set -free some pent-up reserve of energy in my being. Instantly the link of the -wrist-chain snapped, and with it snapped all considerations that had held us -unresisting in the hands of these moon creatures. For that second, at least, I -was mad with fear and anger. I took no thought of consequences. I hit straight -out at the face of the thing with the goad. The chain was twisted round my -fist. -</p> - -<p> -There came another of these beastly surprises of which the moon world is full. -</p> - -<p> -My mailed hand seemed to go clean through him. He smashed like—like some -softish sort of sweet with liquid in it! He broke right in! He squelched and -splashed. It was like hitting a damp toadstool. The flimsy body went spinning a -dozen yards, and fell with a flabby impact. I was astonished. I was incredulous -that any living thing could be so flimsy. For an instant I could have believed -the whole thing a dream. -</p> - -<p> -Then it had become real and imminent again. Neither Cavor nor the other -Selenites seemed to have done anything from the time when I had turned about to -the time when the dead Selenite hit the ground. Every one stood back from us -two, every one alert. That arrest seemed to last at least a second after the -Selenite was down. Every one must have been taking the thing in. I seem to -remember myself standing with my arm half retracted, trying also to take it in. -“What next?” clamoured my brain; “what next?” Then in a -moment every one was moving! -</p> - -<p> -I perceived we must get our chains loose, and that before we could do this -these Selenites had to be beaten off. I faced towards the group of the three -goad-bearers. Instantly one threw his goad at me. It swished over my head, and -I suppose went flying into the abyss behind. -</p> - -<p> -I leaped right at him with all my might as the goad flew over me. He turned to -run as I jumped, and I bore him to the ground, came down right upon him, and -slipped upon his smashed body and fell. He seemed to wriggle under my foot. -</p> - -<p> -I came into a sitting position, and on every hand the blue backs of the -Selenites were receding into the darkness. I bent a link by main force and -untwisted the chain that had hampered me about the ankles, and sprang to my -feet, with the chain in my hand. Another goad, flung javelin-wise, whistled by -me, and I made a rush towards the darkness out of which it had come. Then I -turned back towards Cavor, who was still standing in the light of the rivulet -near the gulf convulsively busy with his wrists, and at the same time jabbering -nonsense about his idea. -</p> - -<p> -“Come on!” I cried. -</p> - -<p> -“My hands!” he answered. -</p> - -<p> -Then, realising that I dared not run back to him, because my ill-calculated -steps might carry me over the edge, he came shuffling towards me, with his -hands held out before him. -</p> - -<p> -I gripped his chains at once to unfasten them. -</p> - -<p> -“Where are they?” he panted. -</p> - -<p> -“Run away. They’ll come back. They’re throwing things! Which -way shall we go?” -</p> - -<p> -“By the light. To that tunnel. Eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” said I, and his hands were free. -</p> - -<p> -I dropped on my knees and fell to work on his ankle bonds. Whack came -something—I know not what—and splashed the livid streamlet into -drops about us. Far away on our right a piping and whistling began. -</p> - -<p> -I whipped the chain off his feet, and put it in his hand. “Hit with -that!” I said, and without waiting for an answer, set off in big bounds -along the path by which we had come. I had a nasty sort of feeling that these -things could jump out of the darkness on to my back. I heard the impact of his -leaps come following after me. -</p> - -<p> -We ran in vast strides. But that running, you must understand, was an -altogether different thing from any running on earth. On earth one leaps and -almost instantly hits the ground again, but on the moon, because of its weaker -pull, one shot through the air for several seconds before one came to earth. In -spite of our violent hurry this gave an effect of long pauses, pauses in which -one might have counted seven or eight. “Step,” and one soared off! -All sorts of questions ran through my mind: “Where are the Selenites? -What will they do? Shall we ever get to that tunnel? Is Cavor far behind? Are -they likely to cut him off?” Then whack, stride, and off again for -another step. -</p> - -<p> -I saw a Selenite running in front of me, his legs going exactly as a -man’s would go on earth, saw him glance over his shoulder, and heard him -shriek as he ran aside out of my way into the darkness. He was, I think, our -guide, but I am not sure. Then in another vast stride the walls of rock had -come into view on either hand, and in two more strides I was in the tunnel, and -tempering my pace to its low roof. I went on to a bend, then stopped and turned -back, and plug, plug, plug, Cavor came into view, splashing into the stream of -blue light at every stride, and grew larger and blundered into me. We stood -clutching each other. For a moment, at least, we had shaken off our captors and -were alone. -</p> - -<p> -We were both very much out of breath. We spoke in panting, broken sentences. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve spoilt it all!” panted Cavor. “Nonsense,” -I cried. “It was that or death!” -</p> - -<p> -“What are we to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Hide.” -</p> - -<p> -“How can we?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s dark enough.” -</p> - -<p> -“But where?” -</p> - -<p> -“Up one of these side caverns.” -</p> - -<p> -“And then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Think.” -</p> - -<p> -“Right—come on.” -</p> - -<p> -We strode on, and presently came to a radiating dark cavern. Cavor was in -front. He hesitated, and chose a black mouth that seemed to promise good -hiding. He went towards it and turned. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s dark,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Your legs and feet will light us. You’re wet with that luminous -stuff.” -</p> - -<p> -“But—” -</p> - -<p> -A tumult of sounds, and in particular a sound like a clanging gong, advancing -up the main tunnel, became audible. It was horribly suggestive of a tumultuous -pursuit. We made a bolt for the unlit side cavern forthwith. As we ran along it -our way was lit by the irradiation of Cavor’s legs. “It’s -lucky,” I panted, “they took off our boots, or we should fill this -place with clatter.” On we rushed, taking as small steps as we could to -avoid striking the roof of the cavern. After a time we seemed to be gaining on -the uproar. It became muffled, it dwindled, it died away. -</p> - -<p> -I stopped and looked back, and I heard the pad, pad of Cavor’s feet -receding. Then he stopped also. “Bedford,” he whispered; -“there’s a sort of light in front of us.” -</p> - -<p> -I looked, and at first could see nothing. Then I perceived his head and -shoulders dimly outlined against a fainter darkness. I saw, also, that this -mitigation of the darkness was not blue, as all the other light within the moon -had been, but a pallid grey, a very vague, faint white, the daylight colour. -Cavor noted this difference as soon, or sooner, than I did, and I think, too, -that it filled him with much the same wild hope. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford,” he whispered, and his voice trembled. “That -light—it is possible—” -</p> - -<p> -He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. Then came a pause. Suddenly I knew -by the sound of his feet that he was striding towards that pallor. I followed -him with a beating heart. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap16"></a>XVI.<br /> -Points of View</h2> - -<p> -The light grew stronger as we advanced. In a little time it was nearly as -strong as the phosphorescence on Cavor’s legs. Our tunnel was expanding -into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of it. I perceived -something that set my hopes leaping and bounding. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “it comes from above! I am certain it comes -from above!” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer, but hurried on. -</p> - -<p> -Indisputably it was a grey light, a silvery light. -</p> - -<p> -In another moment we were beneath it. It filtered down through a chink in the -walls of the cavern, and as I stared up, drip, came a drop of water upon my -face. I started and stood aside—drip, fell another drop quite audibly on -the rocky floor. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor,” I said, “if one of us lifts the other, he can reach -that crack!” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll lift you,” he said, and incontinently hoisted me as -though I was a baby. -</p> - -<p> -I thrust an arm into the crack, and just at my finger tips found a little ledge -by which I could hold. I could see the white light was very much brighter now. -I pulled myself up by two fingers with scarcely an effort, though on earth I -weigh twelve stone, reached to a still higher corner of rock, and so got my -feet on the narrow ledge. I stood up and searched up the rocks with my fingers; -the cleft broadened out upwardly. “It’s climbable,” I said to -Cavor. “Can you jump up to my hand if I hold it down to you?” -</p> - -<p> -I wedged myself between the sides of the cleft, rested knee and foot on the -ledge, and extended a hand. I could not see Cavor, but I could hear the rustle -of his movements as he crouched to spring. Then whack and he was hanging to my -arm—and no heavier than a kitten! I lugged him up until he had a hand on -my ledge, and could release me. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said, “any one could be a mountaineer on the -moon;” and so set myself in earnest to the climbing. For a few minutes I -clambered steadily, and then I looked up again. The cleft opened out steadily, -and the light was brighter. Only— -</p> - -<p> -It was not daylight after all. -</p> - -<p> -In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could have beaten -my head against the rocks with disappointment. For I beheld simply an -irregularly sloping open space, and all over its slanting floor stood a forest -of little club-shaped fungi, each shining gloriously with that pinkish silvery -light. For a moment I stared at their soft radiance, then sprang forward and -upward among them. I plucked up half a dozen and flung them against the rocks, -and then sat down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor’s ruddy face came into -view. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s phosphorescence again!” I said. “No need to -hurry. Sit down and make yourself at home.” And as he spluttered over our -disappointment, I began to lob more of these growths into the cleft. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought it was daylight,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Daylight!” cried I. “Daybreak, sunset, clouds, and windy -skies! Shall we ever see such things again?” -</p> - -<p> -As I spoke, a little picture of our world seemed to rise before me, bright and -little and clear, like the background of some old Italian picture. “The -sky that changes, and the sea that changes, and the hills and the green trees -and the towns and cities shining in the sun. Think of a wet roof at sunset, -Cavor! Think of the windows of a westward house!” He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Here we are burrowing in this beastly world that isn’t a world, -with its inky ocean hidden in some abominable blackness below, and outside that -torrid day and that death stillness of night. And all these things that are -chasing us now, beastly men of leather—insect men, that come out of a -nightmare! After all, they’re right! What business have we here smashing -them and disturbing their world! For all we know the whole planet is up and -after us already. In a minute we may hear them whimpering, and their gongs -going. What are we to do? Where are we to go? Here we are as comfortable as -snakes from Jamrach’s loose in a Surbiton villa!” -</p> - -<p> -“It was your fault,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“My fault!” I shouted. “Good Lord!” -</p> - -<p> -“I had an idea!” -</p> - -<p> -“Curse your ideas!” -</p> - -<p> -“If we had refused to budge—” -</p> - -<p> -“Under those goads?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. They would have carried us!” -</p> - -<p> -“Over that bridge?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. They must have carried us from outside.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’d rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good Heavens!” -</p> - -<p> -I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something that -struck me even then. “Cavor,” I said, “these chains are of -gold!” -</p> - -<p> -He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned his -head slowly and stared at me, and when I had repeated my words, at the twisted -chain about his right hand. “So they are,” he said, “so they -are.” His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He -hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I sat for -a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed this, until I -considered the blue light in which we had been, and which had taken all the -colour out of the metal. And from that discovery I also started upon a train of -thought that carried me wide and far. I forgot that I had just been asking what -business we had in the moon. Gold.... -</p> - -<p> -It was Cavor who spoke first. “It seems to me that there are two courses -open to us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“Either we can attempt to make our way—fight our way if -necessary—out to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere until -we find it, or the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else—” -</p> - -<p> -He paused. “Yes?” I said, though I knew what was coming. -</p> - -<p> -“We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding with -the minds of the people in the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“So far as I’m concerned—it’s the first.” -</p> - -<p> -“I doubt.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” said Cavor, “I do not think we can judge the -Selenites by what we have seen of them. Their central world, their civilised -world will be far below in the profounder caverns about their sea. This region -of the crust in which we are is an outlying district, a pastoral region. At any -rate, that is my interpretation. These Selenites we have seen may be only the -equivalent of cowboys and engine-tenders. Their use of goads—in all -probability mooncalf goads—the lack of imagination they show in expecting -us to be able to do just what they can do, their indisputable brutality, all -seem to point to something of that sort. But if we endured—” -</p> - -<p> -“Neither of us could endure a six-inch plank across the bottomless pit -for very long.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Cavor; “but then—” -</p> - -<p> -“I <i>won’t</i>,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He discovered a new line of possibilities. “Well, suppose we got -ourselves into some corner, where we could defend ourselves against these hinds -and labourers. If, for example, we could hold out for a week or so, it is -probable that the news of our appearance would filter down to the more -intelligent and populous parts—” -</p> - -<p> -“If they exist.” -</p> - -<p> -“They must exist, or whence came those tremendous machines?” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s possible, but it’s the worst of the two -chances.” -</p> - -<p> -“We might write up inscriptions on walls—” -</p> - -<p> -“How do we know their eyes would see the sort of marks we made?” -</p> - -<p> -“If we cut them—” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s possible, of course.” -</p> - -<p> -I took up a new thread of thought. “After all,” I said, “I -suppose you don’t think these Selenites so infinitely wiser than -men.” -</p> - -<p> -“They must know a lot more—or at least a lot of different -things.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, but—” I hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“I think you’ll quite admit, Cavor, that you’re rather an -exceptional man.” -</p> - -<p> -“How?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you—you’re a rather lonely man—have been, that -is. You haven’t married.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never wanted to. But why—” -</p> - -<p> -“And you never grew richer than you happened to be?” -</p> - -<p> -“Never wanted that either.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve just rooted after knowledge?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, a certain curiosity is natural—” -</p> - -<p> -“You think so. That’s just it. You think every other mind wants to -<i>know</i>. I remember once, when I asked you why you conducted all these -researches, you said you wanted your F.R.S., and to have the stuff called -Cavorite, and things like that. You know perfectly well you didn’t do it -for that; but at the time my question took you by surprise, and you felt you -ought to have something to look like a motive. Really you conducted researches -because you <i>had</i> to. It’s your twist.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps it is—” -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t one man in a million has that twist. Most men -want—well, various things, but very few want knowledge for its own sake. -<i>I</i> don’t, I know perfectly well. Now, these Selenites seem to be a -driving, busy sort of being, but how do you know that even the most intelligent -will take an interest in us or our world? I don’t believe they’ll -even know we have a world. They never come out at night—they’d -freeze if they did. They’ve probably never seen any heavenly body at all -except the blazing sun. How are they to know there is another world? What does -it matter to them if they do? Well, even if they <i>have</i> had a glimpse of a -few stars, or even of the earth crescent, what of that? Why should people -living <i>inside</i> a planet trouble to observe that sort of thing? Men -wouldn’t have done it except for the seasons and sailing; why should the -moon people?... -</p> - -<p> -“Well, suppose there are a few philosophers like yourself. They are just -the very Selenites who’ll never have heard of our existence. Suppose a -Selenite had dropped on the earth when you were at Lympne, you’d have -been the last man in the world to hear he had come. You never read a newspaper! -You see the chances against you. Well, it’s for these chances we’re -sitting here doing nothing while precious time is flying. I tell you -we’ve got into a fix. We’ve come unarmed, we’ve lost our -sphere, we’ve got no food, we’ve shown ourselves to the Selenites, -and made them think we’re strange, strong, dangerous animals; and unless -these Selenites are perfect fools, they’ll set about now and hunt us till -they find us, and when they find us they’ll try to take us if they can, -and kill us if they can’t, and that’s the end of the matter. If -they take us, they’ll probably kill us, through some misunderstanding. -After we’re done for, they may discuss us perhaps, but we shan’t -get much fun out of that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Go on.” -</p> - -<p> -“On the other hand, here’s gold knocking about like cast iron at -home. If only we can get some of it back, if only we can find our sphere again -before they do, and get back, then—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“We might put the thing on a sounder footing. Come back in a bigger -sphere with guns.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord!” cried Cavor, as though that was horrible. -</p> - -<p> -I shied another luminous fungus down the cleft. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here, Cavor,” I said, “I’ve half the voting power -anyhow in this affair, and this is a case for a practical man. I’m a -practical man, and you are not. I’m not going to trust to Selenites and -geometrical diagrams if I can help it. That’s all. Get back. Drop all -this secrecy—or most of it. And come again.” -</p> - -<p> -He reflected. “When I came to the moon,” he said, “I ought to -have come alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“The question before the meeting,” I said, “is how to get -back to the sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -For a time we nursed our knees in silence. Then he seemed to decide for my -reasons. -</p> - -<p> -“I think,” he said, “one can get data. It is clear that while -the sun is on this side of the moon the air will be blowing through this planet -sponge from the dark side hither. On this side, at any rate, the air will be -expanding and flowing out of the moon caverns into the craters.... Very well, -there’s a draught here.” -</p> - -<p> -“So there is.” -</p> - -<p> -“And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this -cleft goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we have to -go. If we try to get up any sort of chimney or gully there is, we shall not -only get out of these passages where they are hunting for us—” -</p> - -<p> -“But suppose the gully is too narrow?” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll come down again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ssh!” I said suddenly; “what’s that?” -</p> - -<p> -We listened. At first it was an indistinct murmur, and then one picked out the -clang of a gong. “They must think we are mooncalves,” said I, -“to be frightened at that.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re coming along that passage,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“They must be.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’ll not think of the cleft. They’ll go past.” -</p> - -<p> -I listened again for a space. “This time,” I whispered, -“they’re likely to have some sort of weapon.” -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly I sprang to my feet. “Good heavens, Cavor!” I cried. -“But they <i>will!</i> They’ll see the fungi I have been pitching -down. They’ll—” -</p> - -<p> -I didn’t finish my sentence. I turned about and made a leap over the -fungus tops towards the upper end of the cavity. I saw that the space turned -upward and became a draughty cleft again, ascending to impenetrable darkness. I -was about to clamber up into this, and then with a happy inspiration turned -back. -</p> - -<p> -“What are you doing?” asked Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on!” said I, and went back and got two of the shining fungi, -and putting one into the breast pocket of my flannel jacket, so that it stuck -out to light our climbing, went back with the other for Cavor. The noise of the -Selenites was now so loud that it seemed they must be already beneath the -cleft. But it might be they would have difficulty in clambering in to it, or -might hesitate to ascend it against our possible resistance. At any rate, we -had now the comforting knowledge of the enormous muscular superiority our birth -in another planet gave us. In other minute I was clambering with gigantic -vigour after Cavor’s blue-lit heels. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap17"></a>XVII.<br /> -The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers</h2> - -<p> -I do not know how far we clambered before we came to the grating. It may be we -ascended only a few hundred feet, but at the time it seemed to me we might have -hauled and jammed and hopped and wedged ourselves through a mile or more of -vertical ascent. Whenever I recall that time, there comes into my head the -heavy clank of our golden chains that followed every movement. Very soon my -knuckles and knees were raw, and I had a bruise on one cheek. After a time the -first violence of our efforts diminished, and our movements became more -deliberate and less painful. The noise of the pursuing Selenites had died away -altogether. It seemed almost as though they had not traced us up the crack -after all, in spite of the tell-tale heap of broken fungi that must have lain -beneath it. At times the cleft narrowed so much that we could scarce squeeze up -it; at others it expanded into great drusy cavities, studded with prickly -crystals or thickly beset with dull, shining fungoid pimples. Sometimes it -twisted spirally, and at other times slanted down nearly to the horizontal -direction. Ever and again there was the intermittent drip and trickle of water -by us. Once or twice it seemed to us that small living things had rustled out -of our reach, but what they were we never saw. They may have been venomous -beasts for all I know, but they did us no harm, and we were now tuned to a -pitch when a weird creeping thing more or less mattered little. And at last, -far above, came the familiar bluish light again, and then we saw that it -filtered through a grating that barred our way. -</p> - -<p> -We whispered as we pointed this out to one another, and became more and more -cautious in our ascent. Presently we were close under the grating, and by -pressing my face against its bars I could see a limited portion of the cavern -beyond. It was clearly a large space, and lit no doubt by some rivulet of the -same blue light that we had seen flow from the beating machinery. An -intermittent trickle of water dropped ever and again between the bars near my -face. -</p> - -<p> -My first endeavour was naturally to see what might be upon the floor of the -cavern, but our grating lay in a depression whose rim hid all this from our -eyes. Our foiled attention then fell back upon the suggestion of the various -sounds we heard, and presently my eye caught a number of faint shadows that -played across the dim roof far overhead. -</p> - -<p> -Indisputably there were several Selenites, perhaps a considerable number, in -this space, for we could hear the noises of their intercourse, and faint sounds -that I identified as their footfalls. There was also a succession of regularly -repeated sounds—chid, chid, chid—which began and ceased, suggestive -of a knife or spade hacking at some soft substance. Then came a clank as if of -chains, a whistle and a rumble as of a truck running over a hollowed place, and -then again that chid, chid, chid resumed. The shadows told of shapes that moved -quickly and rhythmically, in agreement with that regular sound, and rested when -it ceased. -</p> - -<p> -We put our heads close together, and began to discuss these things in noiseless -whispers. -</p> - -<p> -“They are occupied,” I said, “they are occupied in some -way.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re not seeking us, or thinking of us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps they have not heard of us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Those others are hunting about below. If suddenly we appeared -here—” -</p> - -<p> -We looked at one another. -</p> - -<p> -“There might be a chance to parley,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I said. “Not as we are.” -</p> - -<p> -For a space we remained, each occupied by his own thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Chid, chid, chid went the chipping, and the shadows moved to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -I looked at the grating. “It’s flimsy,” I said. “We -might bend two of the bars and crawl through.” -</p> - -<p> -We wasted a little time in vague discussion. Then I took one of the bars in -both hands, and got my feet up against the rock until they were almost on a -level with my head, and so thrust against the bar. It bent so suddenly that I -almost slipped. I clambered about and bent the adjacent bar in the opposite -direction, and then took the luminous fungus from my pocket and dropped it down -the fissure. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t do anything hastily,” whispered Cavor, as I twisted -myself up through the opening I had enlarged. I had a glimpse of busy figures -as I came through the grating, and immediately bent down, so that the rim of -the depression in which the grating lay hid me from their eyes, and so lay -flat, signalling advice to Cavor as he also prepared to come through. Presently -we were side by side in the depression, peering over the edge at the cavern and -its occupants. -</p> - -<p> -It was a much larger cavern than we had supposed from our first glimpse of it, -and we looked up from the lowest portion of its sloping floor. It widened out -as it receded from us, and its roof came down and hid the remoter portion -altogether. And lying in a line along its length, vanishing at last far away in -that tremendous perspective, were a number of huge shapes, huge pallid hulls, -upon which the Selenites were busy. At first they seemed big white cylinders of -vague import. Then I noted the heads upon them lying towards us, eyeless and -skinless like the heads of sheep at a butcher’s, and perceived they were -the carcasses of mooncalves being cut up, much as the crew of a whaler might -cut up a moored whale. They were cutting off the flesh in strips, and on some -of the farther trunks the white ribs were showing. It was the sound of their -hatchets that made that chid, chid, chid. Some way away a thing like a trolley -cable, drawn and loaded with chunks of lax meat, was running up the slope of -the cavern floor. This enormous long avenue of hulls that were destined to be -food gave us a sense of the vast populousness of the moon world second only to -the effect of our first glimpse down the shaft. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed to me at first that the Selenites must be standing on -trestle-supported planks,<a href="#fn-2" name="fnref-2" id="fnref-2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> -and then I saw that the planks and supports and the hatchets were really of the -same leaden hue as my fetters had seemed before white light came to bear on -them. A number of very thick-looking crowbars lay about the floor, and had -apparently assisted to turn the dead mooncalf over on its side. They were -perhaps six feet long, with shaped handles, very tempting-looking weapons. The -whole place was lit by three transverse streams of the blue fluid. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a name="fn-2" id="fn-2"></a> <a href="#fnref-2">[2]</a> -I do not remember seeing any wooden things on the moon; doors, tables, -everything corresponding to our terrestrial joinery was made of metal, and I -believe for the most part of gold, which as a metal would, of course, naturally -recommend itself—other things being equal—on account of the ease in -working it, and its toughness and durability. -</p> - -<p> -We lay for a long time noting all these things in silence. “Well?” -said Cavor at last. -</p> - -<p> -I crouched over and turned to him. I had come upon a brilliant idea. -“Unless they lowered those bodies by a crane,” I said, “we -must be nearer the surface than I thought.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“The mooncalf doesn’t hop, and it hasn’t got wings.” -</p> - -<p> -He peered over the edge of the hollow again. “I wonder now—” -he began. “After all, we have never gone far from the -surface—” -</p> - -<p> -I stopped him by a grip on his arm. I had heard a noise from the cleft below -us! -</p> - -<p> -We twisted ourselves about, and lay as still as death, with every sense alert. -In a little while I did not doubt that something was quietly ascending the -cleft. Very slowly and quite noiselessly I assured myself of a good grip on my -chain, and waited for that something to appear. -</p> - -<p> -“Just look at those chaps with the hatchets again,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“They’re all right,” said Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -I took a sort of provisional aim at the gap in the grating. I could hear now -quite distinctly the soft twittering of the ascending Selenites, the dab of -their hands against the rock, and the falling of dust from their grips as they -clambered. -</p> - -<p> -Then I could see that there was something moving dimly in the blackness below -the grating, but what it might be I could not distinguish. The whole thing -seemed to hang fire just for a moment—then smash! I had sprung to my -feet, struck savagely at something that had flashed out at me. It was the keen -point of a spear. I have thought since that its length in the narrowness of the -cleft must have prevented its being sloped to reach me. Anyhow, it shot out -from the grating like the tongue of a snake, and missed and flew back and -flashed again. But the second time I snatched and caught it, and wrenched it -away, but not before another had darted ineffectually at me. -</p> - -<p> -I shouted with triumph as I felt the hold of the Selenite resist my pull for a -moment and give, and then I was jabbing down through the bars, amidst squeals -from the darkness, and Cavor had snapped off the other spear, and was leaping -and flourishing it beside me, and making inefficient jabs. Clang, clang, came -up through the grating, and then an axe hurtled through the air and whacked -against the rocks beyond, to remind me of the fleshers at the carcasses up the -cavern. -</p> - -<p> -I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving their axes. -They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, strikingly different -from the ones we had seen before. If they had not heard of us before, they must -have realised the situation with incredible swiftness. I stared at them for a -moment, spear in hand. “Guard that grating, Cavor,” I cried, howled -to intimidate them, and rushed to meet them. Two of them missed with their -hatchets, and the rest fled incontinently. Then the two also were sprinting -away up the cavern, with hands clenched and heads down. I never saw men run -like them! -</p> - -<p> -I knew the spear I had was no good for me. It was thin and flimsy, only -effectual for a thrust, and too long for a quick recover. So I only chased the -Selenites as far as the first carcass, and stopped there and picked up one of -the crowbars that were lying about. It felt comfortingly heavy, and equal to -smashing any number of Selenites. I threw away my spear, and picked up a second -crowbar for the other hand. I felt five times better than I had with the spear. -I shook the two threateningly at the Selenites, who had come to a halt in a -little crowd far away up the cavern, and then turned about to look at Cavor. -</p> - -<p> -He was leaping from side to side of the grating, making threatening jabs with -his broken spear. That was all right. It would keep the Selenites -down—for a time at any rate. I looked up the cavern again. What on earth -were we going to do now? -</p> - -<p> -We were cornered in a sort of way already. But these butchers up the cavern had -been surprised, they were probably scared, and they had no special weapons, -only those little hatchets of theirs. And that way lay escape. Their sturdy -little forms—ever so much shorter and thicker than the mooncalf -herds—were scattered up the slope in a way that was eloquent of -indecision. I had the moral advantage of a mad bull in a street. But for all -that, there seemed a tremendous crowd of them. Very probably there was. Those -Selenites down the cleft had certainly some infernally long spears. It might be -they had other surprises for us.... But, confound it! if we charged up the cave -we should let them up behind us, and if we didn’t those little brutes up -the cave would probably get reinforced. Heaven alone knew what tremendous -engines of warfare—guns, bombs, terrestrial torpedoes—this unknown -world below our feet, this vaster world of which we had only pricked the outer -cuticle, might not presently send up to our destruction. It became clear the -only thing to do was to charge! It became clearer as the legs of a number of -fresh Selenites appeared running down the cavern towards us. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” cried Cavor, and behold! he was halfway between me and -the grating. -</p> - -<p> -“Go back!” I cried. “What are you doing—” -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve got—it’s like a gun!” -</p> - -<p> -And struggling in the grating between those defensive spears appeared the head -and shoulders of a singularly lean and angular Selenite, bearing some -complicated apparatus. -</p> - -<p> -I realised Cavor’s utter incapacity for the fight we had in hand. For a -moment I hesitated. Then I rushed past him whirling my crowbars, and shouting -to confound the aim of the Selenite. He was aiming in the queerest way with the -thing against his stomach. “<i>Chuzz!</i>” The thing wasn’t a -gun; it went off like a cross-bow more, and dropped me in the middle of a leap. -</p> - -<p> -I didn’t fall down, I simply came down a little shorter than I should -have done if I hadn’t been hit, and from the feel of my shoulder the -thing might have tapped me and glanced off. Then my left hand hit against the -shaft, and I perceived there was a sort of spear sticking half through my -shoulder. The moment after I got home with the crowbar in my right hand, and -hit the Selenite fair and square. He collapsed—he crushed and -crumpled—his head smashed like an egg. -</p> - -<p> -I dropped a crowbar, pulled the spear out of my shoulder, and began to jab it -down the grating into the darkness. At each jab came a shriek and twitter. -Finally I hurled the spear down upon them with all my strength, leapt up, -picked up the crowbar again, and started for the multitude up the cavern. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” cried Cavor. “Bedford!” as I flew past him. -</p> - -<p> -I seem to remember his footsteps coming on behind me. -</p> - -<p> -Step, leap ... whack, step, leap.... Each leap seemed to last ages. With each, -the cave opened out and the number of Selenites visible increased. At first -they seemed all running about like ants in a disturbed ant-hill, one or two -waving hatchets and coming to meet me, more running away, some bolting sideways -into the avenue of carcasses, then presently others came in sight carrying -spears, and then others. I saw a most extraordinary thing, all hands and feet, -bolting for cover. The cavern grew darker farther up. -</p> - -<p> -Flick! something flew over my head. Flick! As I soared in mid-stride I saw a -spear hit and quiver in one of the carcasses to my left. Then, as I came down, -one hit the ground before me, and I heard the remote chuzz! with which their -things were fired. Flick, flick! for a moment it was a shower. They were -volleying! -</p> - -<p> -I stopped dead. -</p> - -<p> -I don’t think I thought clearly then. I seem to remember a kind of -stereotyped phrase running through my mind: “Zone of fire, seek -cover!” I know I made a dash for the space between two of the carcasses, -and stood there panting and feeling very wicked. -</p> - -<p> -I looked round for Cavor, and for a moment it seemed as if he had vanished from -the world. Then he came out of the darkness between the row of the carcasses -and the rocky wall of the cavern. I saw his little face, dark and blue, and -shining with perspiration and emotion. -</p> - -<p> -He was saying something, but what it was I did not heed. I had realised that we -might work from mooncalf to mooncalf up the cave until we were near enough to -charge home. It was charge or nothing. “Come on!” I said, and led -the way. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” he cried unavailingly. -</p> - -<p> -My mind was busy as we went up that narrow alley between the dead bodies and -the wall of the cavern. The rocks curved about—they could not enfilade -us. Though in that narrow space we could not leap, yet with our earth-born -strength we were still able to go very much faster than the Selenites. I -reckoned we should presently come right among them. Once we were on them, they -would be nearly as formidable as black beetles. Only there would first of all -be a volley. I thought of a stratagem. I whipped off my flannel jacket as I -ran. -</p> - -<p> -“Bedford!” panted Cavor behind me. -</p> - -<p> -I glanced back. “What?” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He was pointing upward over the carcasses. “White light!” he said. -“White light again!” -</p> - -<p> -I looked, and it was even so; a faint white ghost of light in the remoter -cavern roof. That seemed to give me double strength. -</p> - -<p> -“Keep close,” I said. A flat, long Selenite dashed out of the -darkness, and squealed and fled. I halted, and stopped Cavor with my hand. I -hung my jacket over my crowbar, ducked round the next carcass, dropped jacket -and crowbar, showed myself, and darted back. -</p> - -<p> -“Chuzz-flick,” just one arrow came. We were close on the Selenites, -and they were standing in a crowd, broad, short, and tall together, with a -little battery of their shooting implements pointing down the cave. Three or -four other arrows followed the first, then their fire ceased. -</p> - -<p> -I stuck out my head, and escaped by a hair’s-breadth. This time I drew a -dozen shots or more, and heard the Selenites shouting and twittering as if with -excitement as they shot. I picked up jacket and crowbar again. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Now!</i>” said I, and thrust out the jacket. -</p> - -<p> -“Chuzz-zz-zz-zz! Chuzz!” In an instant my jacket had grown a thick -beard of arrows, and they were quivering all over the carcass behind us. -Instantly I slipped the crowbar out of the jacket, dropped the jacket—for -all I know to the contrary it is lying up there in the moon now—and -rushed out upon them. -</p> - -<p> -For a minute perhaps it was massacre. I was too fierce to discriminate, and the -Selenites were probably too scared to fight. At any rate they made no sort of -fight against me. I saw scarlet, as the saying is. I remember I seemed to be -wading among those leathery, thin things as a man wades through tall grass, -mowing and hitting, first right, then left; smash. Little drops of moisture -flew about. I trod on things that crushed and piped and went slippery. The -crowd seemed to open and close and flow like water. They seemed to have no -combined plan whatever. There were spears flew about me, I was grazed over the -ear by one. I was stabbed once in the arm and once in the cheek, but I only -found that out afterwards, when the blood had had time to run and cool and feel -wet. -</p> - -<p> -What Cavor did I do not know. For a space it seemed that this fighting had -lasted for an age, and must needs go on for ever. Then suddenly it was all -over, and there was nothing to be seen but the backs of heads bobbing up and -down as their owners ran in all directions.... I seemed altogether unhurt. I -ran forward some paces, shouting, then turned about. I was amazed. -</p> - -<p> -I had come right through them in vast flying strides, they were all behind me, -and running hither and thither to hide. -</p> - -<p> -I felt an enormous astonishment at the evaporation of the great fight into -which I had hurled myself, and not a little exultation. It did not seem to me -that I had discovered the Selenites were unexpectedly flimsy, but that I was -unexpectedly strong. I laughed stupidly. This fantastic moon! -</p> - -<p> -I glanced for a moment at the smashed and writhing bodies that were scattered -over the cavern floor, with a vague idea of further violence, then hurried on -after Cavor. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap18"></a>XVIII.<br /> -In the Sunlight</h2> - -<p> -Presently we saw that the cavern before us opened upon a hazy void. In another -moment we had emerged upon a sort of slanting gallery, that projected into a -vast circular space, a huge cylindrical pit running vertically up and down. -Round this pit the slanting gallery ran without any parapet or protection for a -turn and a half, and then plunged high above into the rock again. Somehow it -reminded me then of one of those spiral turns of the railway through the Saint -Gothard. It was all tremendously huge. I can scarcely hope to convey to you the -Titanic proportion of all that place, the Titanic effect of it. Our eyes -followed up the vast declivity of the pit wall, and overhead and far above we -beheld a round opening set with faint stars, and half of the lip about it well -nigh blinding with the white light of the sun. At that we cried aloud -simultaneously. -</p> - -<p> -“Come on!” I said, leading the way. -</p> - -<p> -“But there?” said Cavor, and very carefully stepped nearer the edge -of the gallery. I followed his example, and craned forward and looked down, but -I was dazzled by that gleam of light above, and I could see only a bottomless -darkness with spectral patches of crimson and purple floating therein. Yet if I -could not see, I could hear. Out of this darkness came a sound, a sound like -the angry hum one can hear if one puts one’s ear outside a hive of bees, -a sound out of that enormous hollow, it may be, four miles beneath our feet... -</p> - -<p> -For a moment I listened, then tightened my grip on my crowbar, and led the way -up the gallery. -</p> - -<p> -“This must be the shaft we looked down upon,” said Cavor. -“Under that lid.” -</p> - -<p> -“And below there, is where we saw the lights.” -</p> - -<p> -“The lights!” said he. “Yes—the lights of the world -that now we shall never see.” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll come back,” I said, for now we had escaped so much I -was rashly sanguine that we should recover the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -His answer I did not catch. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“It doesn’t matter,” he answered, and we hurried on in -silence. -</p> - -<p> -I suppose that slanting lateral way was four or five miles long, allowing for -its curvature, and it ascended at a slope that would have made it almost -impossibly steep on earth, but which one strode up easily under lunar -conditions. We saw only two Selenites during all that portion of our flight, -and directly they became aware of us they ran headlong. It was clear that the -knowledge of our strength and violence had reached them. Our way to the -exterior was unexpectedly plain. The spiral gallery straightened into a steeply -ascendent tunnel, its floor bearing abundant traces of the mooncalves, and so -straight and short in proportion to its vast arch, that no part of it was -absolutely dark. Almost immediately it began to lighten, and then far off and -high up, and quite blindingly brilliant, appeared its opening on the exterior, -a slope of Alpine steepness surmounted by a crest of bayonet shrub, tall and -broken down now, and dry and dead, in spiky silhouette against the sun. -</p> - -<p> -And it is strange that we men, to whom this very vegetation had seemed so weird -and horrible a little time ago, should now behold it with the emotion a -home-coming exile might feel at sight of his native land. We welcomed even the -rareness of the air that made us pant as we ran, and which rendered speaking no -longer the easy thing that it had been, but an effort to make oneself heard. -Larger grew the sunlit circle above us, and larger, and all the nearer tunnel -sank into a rim of indistinguishable black. We saw the dead bayonet shrub no -longer with any touch of green in it, but brown and dry and thick, and the -shadow of its upper branches high out of sight made a densely interlaced -pattern upon the tumbled rocks. And at the immediate mouth of the tunnel was a -wide trampled space where the mooncalves had come and gone. -</p> - -<p> -We came out upon this space at last into a light and heat that hit and pressed -upon us. We traversed the exposed area painfully, and clambered up a slope -among the scrub stems, and sat down at last panting in a high place beneath the -shadow of a mass of twisted lava. Even in the shade the rock felt hot. -</p> - -<p> -The air was intensely hot, and we were in great physical discomfort, but for -all that we were no longer in a nightmare. We seemed to have come to our own -province again, beneath the stars. All the fear and stress of our flight -through the dim passages and fissures below had fallen from us. That last fight -had filled us with an enormous confidence in ourselves so far as the Selenites -were concerned. We looked back almost incredulously at the black opening from -which we had just emerged. Down there it was, in a blue glow that now in our -memories seemed the next thing to absolute darkness, we had met with things -like mad mockeries of men, helmet-headed creatures, and had walked in fear -before them, and had submitted to them until we could submit no longer. And -behold, they had smashed like wax and scattered like chaff, and fled and -vanished like the creatures of a dream! -</p> - -<p> -I rubbed my eyes, doubting whether we had not slept and dreamt these things by -reason of the fungus we had eaten, and suddenly discovered the blood upon my -face, and then that my shirt was sticking painfully to my shoulder and arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I said, gauging my injuries with an investigatory -hand, and suddenly that distant tunnel mouth became, as it were, a watching -eye. -</p> - -<p> -“Cavor!” I said; “what are they going to do now? And what are -we going to do?” -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head, with his eyes fixed upon the tunnel. “How can one tell -what they will do?” -</p> - -<p> -“It depends on what they think of us, and I don’t see how we can -begin to guess that. And it depends upon what they have in reserve. It’s -as you say, Cavor, we have touched the merest outside of this world. They may -have all sorts of things inside here. Even with those shooting things they -might make it bad for us.... -</p> - -<p> -“Yet after all,” I said, “even if we <i>don’t</i> find -the sphere at once, there is a chance for us. We might hold out. Even through -the night. We might go down there again and make a fight for it.” -</p> - -<p> -I stared about me with speculative eyes. The character of the scenery had -altered altogether by reason of the enormous growth and subsequent drying of -the scrub. The crest on which we sat was high, and commanded a wide prospect of -the crater landscape, and we saw it now all sere and dry in the late autumn of -the lunar afternoon. Rising one behind the other were long slopes and fields of -trampled brown where the mooncalves had pastured, and far away in the full -blaze of the sun a drove of them basked slumberously, scattered shapes, each -with a blot of shadow against it like sheep on the side of a down. But never a -sign of a Selenite was to be seen. Whether they had fled on our emergence from -the interior passages, or whether they were accustomed to retire after driving -out the mooncalves, I cannot guess. At the time I believed the former was the -case. -</p> - -<p> -“If we were to set fire to all this stuff,” I said, “we might -find the sphere among the ashes.” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor did not seem to hear me. He was peering under his hand at the stars, that -still, in spite of the intense sunlight, were abundantly visible in the sky. -“How long do you think we’ve have been here?” he asked at -last. -</p> - -<p> -“Been where?” -</p> - -<p> -“On the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Two earthly days, perhaps.” -</p> - -<p> -“More nearly ten. Do you know, the sun is past its zenith, and sinking in -the west. In four days’ time or less it will be night.” -</p> - -<p> -“But—we’ve only eaten once!” -</p> - -<p> -“I know that. And— But there are the stars!” -</p> - -<p> -“But why should time seem different because we are on a smaller -planet?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. There it is!” -</p> - -<p> -“How does one tell time?” -</p> - -<p> -“Hunger—fatigue—all those things are different. Everything is -different—everything. To me it seems that since first we came out of the -sphere has been only a question of hours—long hours—at most.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ten days,” I said; “that leaves—” I looked up at -the sun for a moment, and then saw that it was halfway from the zenith to the -western edge of things. “Four days! ... Cavor, we mustn’t sit here -and dream. How do you think we may begin?” -</p> - -<p> -I stood up. “We must get a fixed point we can recognise—we might -hoist a flag, or a handkerchief, or something—and quarter the ground, and -work round that.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood up beside me. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said, “there is nothing for it but to hunt the -sphere. Nothing. We may find it—certainly we may find it. And if -not—” -</p> - -<p> -“We must keep on looking.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked this way and that, glanced up at the sky and down at the tunnel, and -astonished me by a sudden gesture of impatience. “Oh! but we have done -foolishly! To have come to this pass! Think how it might have been, and the -things we might have done!” -</p> - -<p> -“We might do something yet.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never the thing we might have done. Here below our feet is a world. -Think of what that world must be! Think of that machine we saw, and the lid and -the shaft! They were just remote outlying things, and those creatures we have -seen and fought with no more than ignorant peasants, dwellers in the outskirts, -yokels and labourers half akin to brutes. Down below! Caverns beneath caverns, -tunnels, structures, ways... It must open out, and be greater and wider and -more populous as one descends. Assuredly. Right down at the last the central -sea that washes round the core of the moon. Think of its inky waters under the -spare lights—if, indeed, their eyes <i>need</i> lights! Think of the -cascading tributaries pouring down their channels to feed it! Think of the -tides upon its surface, and the rush and swirl of its ebb and flow! Perhaps -they have ships that go upon it, perhaps down there are mighty cities and -swarming ways, and wisdom and order passing the wit of man. And we may die here -upon it, and never see the masters who <i>must</i> be—ruling over these -things! We may freeze and die here, and the air will freeze and thaw upon us, -and then—! Then they will come upon us, come on our stiff and silent -bodies, and find the sphere we cannot find, and they will understand at last -too late all the thought and effort that ended here in vain!” -</p> - -<p> -His voice for all that speech sounded like the voice of someone heard in a -telephone, weak and far away. -</p> - -<p> -“But the darkness,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -“One might get over that.” -</p> - -<p> -“How?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. How am I to know? One might carry a torch, one might -have a lamp— The others—might understand.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood for a moment with his hands held down and a rueful face, staring out -over the waste that defied him. Then with a gesture of renunciation he turned -towards me with proposals for the systematic hunting of the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -“We can return,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He looked about him. “First of all we shall have to get to earth.” -</p> - -<p> -“We could bring back lamps to carry and climbing irons, and a hundred -necessary things.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“We can take back an earnest of success in this gold.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at my golden crowbars, and said nothing for a space. He stood with -his hands clasped behind his back, staring across the crater. At last he signed -and spoke. “It was <i>I</i> found the way here, but to find a way -isn’t always to be master of a way. If I take my secret back to earth, -what will happen? I do not see how I can keep my secret for a year, for even a -part of a year. Sooner or later it must come out, even if other men rediscover -it. And then ... Governments and powers will struggle to get hither, they will -fight against one another, and against these moon people; it will only spread -warfare and multiply the occasions of war. In a little while, in a very little -while, if I tell my secret, this planet to its deepest galleries will be strewn -with human dead. Other things are doubtful, but that is certain. It is not as -though man had any use for the moon. What good would the moon be to men? Even -of their own planet what have they made but a battle-ground and theatre of -infinite folly? Small as his world is, and short as his time, he has still in -his little life down there far more than he can do. No! Science has toiled too -long forging weapons for fools to use. It is time she held her hand. Let him -find it out for himself again—in a thousand years’ time.” -</p> - -<p> -“There are methods of secrecy,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He looked up at me and smiled. “After all,” he said, “why -should one worry? There is little chance of our finding the sphere, and down -below things are brewing. It’s simply the human habit of hoping till we -die that makes us think of return. Our troubles are only beginning. We have -shown these moon folk violence, we have given them a taste of our quality, and -our chances are about as good as a tiger’s that has got loose and killed -a man in Hyde Park. The news of us must be running down from gallery to -gallery, down towards the central parts.... No sane beings will ever let us -take that sphere back to earth after so much as they have seen of us.” -</p> - -<p> -“We aren’t improving our chances,” said I, “by sitting -here.” -</p> - -<p> -We stood up side by side. -</p> - -<p> -“After all,” he said, “we must separate. We must stick up a -handkerchief on these tall spikes here and fasten it firmly, and from this as a -centre we must work over the crater. You must go westward, moving out in -semicircles to and fro towards the setting sun. You must move first with your -shadow on your right until it is at right angles with the direction of your -handkerchief, and then with your shadow on your left. And I will do the same to -the east. We will look into every gully, examine every skerry of rocks; we will -do all we can to find my sphere. If we see the Selenites we will hide from them -as well as we can. For drink we must take snow, and if we feel the need of -food, we must kill a mooncalf if we can, and eat such flesh as it -has—raw—and so each will go his own way.” -</p> - -<p> -“And if one of us comes upon the sphere?” -</p> - -<p> -“He must come back to the white handkerchief, and stand by it and signal -to the other.” -</p> - -<p> -“And if neither?” -</p> - -<p> -Cavor glanced up at the sun. “We go on seeking until the night and cold -overtake us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Suppose the Selenites have found the sphere and hidden it?” -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Or if presently they come hunting us?” -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“You had better take a club,” I said. -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head, and stared away from me across the waste. -</p> - -<p> -But for a moment he did not start. He looked round at me shyly, hesitated. -“<i>Au revoir</i>,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -I felt an odd stab of emotion. A sense of how we had galled each other, and -particularly how I must have galled him, came to me. “Confound it,” -thought I, “we might have done better!” I was on the point of -asking him to shake hands—for that, somehow, was how I felt just -then—when he put his feet together and leapt away from me towards the -north. He seemed to drift through the air as a dead leaf would do, fell -lightly, and leapt again. I stood for a moment watching him, then faced -westward reluctantly, pulled myself together, and with something of the feeling -of a man who leaps into icy water, selected a leaping point, and plunged -forward to explore my solitary half of the moon world. I dropped rather -clumsily among rocks, stood up and looked about me, clambered on to a rocky -slab, and leapt again.... -</p> - -<p> -When presently I looked for Cavor he was hidden from my eyes, but the -handkerchief showed out bravely on its headland, white in the blaze of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -I determined not to lose sight of that handkerchief whatever might betide. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap19"></a>XIX.<br /> -Mr. Bedford Alone</h2> - -<p> -In a little while it seemed to me as though I had always been alone on the -moon. I hunted for a time with a certain intentness, but the heat was still -very great, and the thinness of the air felt like a hoop about one’s -chest. I came presently into a hollow basin bristling with tall, brown, dry -fronds about its edge, and I sat down under these to rest and cool. I intended -to rest for only a little while. I put down my clubs beside me, and sat resting -my chin on my hands. I saw with a sort of colourless interest that the rocks of -the basin, where here and there the crackling dry lichens had shrunk away to -show them, were all veined and splattered with gold, that here and there bosses -of rounded and wrinkled gold projected from among the litter. What did that -matter now? A sort of languor had possession of my limbs and mind, I did not -believe for a moment that we should ever find the sphere in that vast -desiccated wilderness. I seemed to lack a motive for effort until the Selenites -should come. Then I supposed I should exert myself, obeying that unreasonable -imperative that urges a man before all things to preserve and defend his life, -albeit he may preserve it only to die more painfully in a little while. -</p> - -<p> -Why had we come to the moon? -</p> - -<p> -The thing presented itself to me as a perplexing problem. What is this spirit -in man that urges him for ever to depart from happiness and security, to toil, -to place himself in danger, to risk even a reasonable certainty of death? It -dawned upon me up there in the moon as a thing I ought always to have known, -that man is not made simply to go about being safe and comfortable and well fed -and amused. Almost any man, if you put the thing to him, not in words, but in -the shape of opportunities, will show that he knows as much. Against his -interest, against his happiness, he is constantly being driven to do -unreasonable things. Some force not himself impels him, and go he must. But -why? Why? Sitting there in the midst of that useless moon gold, amidst the -things of another world, I took count of all my life. Assuming I was to die a -castaway upon the moon, I failed altogether to see what purpose I had served. I -got no light on that point, but at any rate it was clearer to me than it had -ever been in my life before that I was not serving my own purpose, that all my -life I had in truth never served the purposes of my private life. Whose -purposes, what purposes, was I serving? ... I ceased to speculate on why we had -come to the moon, and took a wider sweep. Why had I come to the earth? Why had -I a private life at all? ... I lost myself at last in bottomless -speculations.... -</p> - -<p> -My thoughts became vague and cloudy, no longer leading in definite directions. -I had not felt heavy or weary—I cannot imagine one doing so upon the -moon—but I suppose I was greatly fatigued. At any rate I slept. -</p> - -<p> -Slumbering there rested me greatly, I think, and the sun was setting and the -violence of the heat abating, through all the time I slumbered. When at last I -was roused from my slumbers by a remote clamour, I felt active and capable -again. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. I rose to my feet—I was a -little stiff—and at once prepared to resume my search. I shouldered my -golden clubs, one on each shoulder, and went on out of the ravine of the -gold-veined rocks. -</p> - -<p> -The sun was certainly lower, much lower than it had been; the air was very much -cooler. I perceived I must have slept some time. It seemed to me that a faint -touch of misty blueness hung about the western cliff. I leapt to a little boss -of rock and surveyed the crater. I could see no signs of mooncalves or -Selenites, nor could I see Cavor, but I could see my handkerchief far off, -spread out on its thicket of thorns. I looked about me, and then leapt forward -to the next convenient view-point. -</p> - -<p> -I beat my way round in a semicircle, and back again in a still remoter -crescent. It was very fatiguing and hopeless. The air was really very much -cooler, and it seemed to me that the shadow under the westward cliff was -growing broad. Ever and again I stopped and reconnoitred, but there was no sign -of Cavor, no sign of Selenites; and it seemed to me the mooncalves must have -been driven into the interior again—I could see none of them. I became -more and more desirous of seeing Cavor. The winged outline of the sun had sunk -now, until it was scarcely the distance of its diameter from the rim of the -sky. I was oppressed by the idea that the Selenites would presently close their -lids and valves, and shut us out under the inexorable onrush of the lunar -night. It seemed to me high time that he abandoned his search, and that we took -counsel together. I felt how urgent it was that we should decide soon upon our -course. We had failed to find the sphere, we no longer had time to seek it, and -once these valves were closed with us outside, we were lost men. The great -night of space would descend upon us—that blackness of the void which is -the only absolute death. All my being shrank from that approach. We must get -into the moon again, though we were slain in doing it. I was haunted by a -vision of our freezing to death, of our hammering with our last strength on the -valve of the great pit. -</p> - -<p> -I took no thought any more of the sphere. I thought only of finding Cavor -again. I was half inclined to go back into the moon without him, rather than -seek him until it was too late. I was already half-way back towards our -handkerchief, when suddenly— -</p> - -<p> -I saw the sphere! -</p> - -<p> -I did not find it so much as it found me. It was lying much farther to the -westward than I had gone, and the sloping rays of the sinking sun reflected -from its glass had suddenly proclaimed its presence in a dazzling beam. For an -instant I thought this was some new device of the Selenites against us, and -then I understood. -</p> - -<p> -I threw up my arms, shouted a ghostly shout, and set off in vast leaps towards -it. I missed one of my leaps and dropped into a deep ravine and twisted my -ankle, and after that I stumbled at almost every leap. I was in a state of -hysterical agitation, trembling violently, and quite breathless long before I -got to it. Three times at least I had to stop with my hands resting on my side -and in spite of the thin dryness of the air, the perspiration was wet upon my -face. -</p> - -<p> -I thought of nothing but the sphere until I reached it, I forgot even my -trouble of Cavor’s whereabouts. My last leap flung me with my hands hard -against its glass; then I lay against it panting, and trying vainly to shout, -“Cavor! here is the sphere!” When I had recovered a little I peered -through the thick glass, and the things inside seemed tumbled. I stooped to -peer closer. Then I attempted to get in. I had to hoist it over a little to get -my head through the manhole. The screw stopper was inside, and I could see now -that nothing had been touched, nothing had suffered. It lay there as we had -left it when we had dropped out amidst the snow. For a time I was wholly -occupied in making and remaking this inventory. I found I was trembling -violently. It was good to see that familiar dark interior again! I cannot tell -you how good. Presently I crept inside and sat down among the things. I looked -through the glass at the moon world and shivered. I placed my gold clubs upon -the table, and sought out and took a little food; not so much because I wanted -it, but because it was there. Then it occurred to me that it was time to go out -and signal for Cavor. But I did not go out and signal for Cavor forthwith. -Something held me to the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -After all, everything was coming right. There would be still time for us to get -more of the magic stone that gives one mastery over men. Away there, close -handy, was gold for the picking up; and the sphere would travel as well half -full of gold as though it were empty. We could go back now, masters of -ourselves and our world, and then— -</p> - -<p> -I roused myself at last, and with an effort got myself out of the sphere. I -shivered as I emerged, for the evening air was growing very cold. I stood in -the hollow staring about me. I scrutinised the bushes round me very carefully -before I leapt to the rocky shelf hard by, and took once more what had been my -first leap in the moon. But now I made it with no effort whatever. -</p> - -<p> -The growth and decay of the vegetation had gone on apace, and the whole aspect -of the rocks had changed, but still it was possible to make out the slope on -which the seeds had germinated, and the rocky mass from which we had taken our -first view of the crater. But the spiky shrub on the slope stood brown and sere -now, and thirty feet high, and cast long shadows that stretched out of sight, -and the little seeds that clustered in its upper branches were brown and ripe. -Its work was done, and it was brittle and ready to fall and crumple under the -freezing air, so soon as the nightfall came. And the huge cacti, that had -swollen as we watched them, had long since burst and scattered their spores to -the four quarters of the moon. Amazing little corner in the universe—the -landing place of men! -</p> - -<p> -Some day, thought I, I will have an inscription standing there right in the -midst of the hollow. It came to me, if only this teeming world within knew of -the full import of the moment, how furious its tumult would become! -</p> - -<p> -But as yet it could scarcely be dreaming of the significance of our coming. For -if it did, the crater would surely be an uproar of pursuit, instead of as still -as death! I looked about for some place from which I might signal Cavor, and -saw that same patch of rock to which he had leapt from my present standpoint, -still bare and barren in the sun. For a moment I hesitated at going so far from -the sphere. Then with a pang of shame at that hesitation, I leapt.... -</p> - -<p> -From this vantage point I surveyed the crater again. Far away at the top of the -enormous shadow I cast was the little white handkerchief fluttering on the -bushes. It was very little and very far, and Cavor was not in sight. It seemed -to me that by this time he ought to be looking for me. That was the agreement. -But he was nowhere to be seen. -</p> - -<p> -I stood waiting and watching, hands shading my eyes, expecting every moment to -distinguish him. Very probably I stood there for quite a long time. I tried to -shout, and was reminded of the thinness of the air. I made an undecided step -back towards the sphere. But a lurking dread of the Selenites made me hesitate -to signal my whereabouts by hoisting one of our sleeping-blankets on to the -adjacent scrub. I searched the crater again. -</p> - -<p> -It had an effect of emptiness that chilled me. And it was still. Any sound from -the Selenites in the world beneath had died away. It was as still as death. -Save for the faint stir of the shrub about me in the little breeze that was -rising, there was no sound nor shadow of a sound. And the breeze blew chill. -</p> - -<p> -Confound Cavor! -</p> - -<p> -I took a deep breath. I put my hands to the sides of my mouth. -“Cavor!” I bawled, and the sound was like some manikin shouting far -away. -</p> - -<p> -I looked at the handkerchief, I looked behind me at the broadening shadow of -the westward cliff, I looked under my hand at the sun. It seemed to me that -almost visibly it was creeping down the sky. -</p> - -<p> -I felt I must act instantly if I was to save Cavor. I whipped off my vest and -flung it as a mark on the sere bayonets of the shrubs behind me, and then set -off in a straight line towards the handkerchief. Perhaps it was a couple of -miles away—a matter of a few hundred leaps and strides. I have already -told how one seemed to hang through those lunar leaps. In each suspense I -sought Cavor, and marvelled why he should be hidden. In each leap I could feel -the sun setting behind me. Each time I touched the ground I was tempted to go -back. -</p> - -<p> -A last leap and I was in the depression below our handkerchief, a stride, and I -stood on our former vantage point within arms’ reach of it. I stood up -straight and scanned the world about me, between its lengthening bars of -shadow. Far away, down a long declivity, was the opening of the tunnel up which -we had fled, and my shadow reached towards it, stretched towards it, and -touched it, like a finger of the night. -</p> - -<p> -Not a sign of Cavor, not a sound in all the stillness, only the stir and waving -of the scrub and of the shadows increased. And suddenly and violently I -shivered. “Cav—” I began, and realised once more the -uselessness of the human voice in that thin air. Silence. The silence of death. -</p> - -<p> -Then it was my eye caught something—a little thing lying, perhaps fifty -yards away down the slope, amidst a litter of bent and broken branches. What -was it? I knew, and yet for some reason I would not know. I went nearer to it. -It was the little cricket-cap Cavor had worn. I did not touch it, I stood -looking at it. -</p> - -<p> -I saw then that the scattered branches about it had been forcibly smashed and -trampled. I hesitated, stepped forward, and picked it up. -</p> - -<p> -I stood with Cavor’s cap in my hand, staring at the trampled reeds and -thorns about me. On some of them were little smears of something dark, -something that I dared not touch. A dozen yards away, perhaps, the rising -breeze dragged something into view, something small and vividly white. -</p> - -<p> -It was a little piece of paper crumpled tightly, as though it had been clutched -tightly. I picked it up, and on it were smears of red. My eye caught faint -pencil marks. I smoothed it out, and saw uneven and broken writing ending at -last in a crooked streak upon the paper. -</p> - -<p> -I set myself to decipher this. -</p> - -<p> -“I have been injured about the knee, I think my kneecap is hurt, and I -cannot run or crawl,” it began—pretty distinctly written. -</p> - -<p> -Then less legibly: “They have been chasing me for some time, and it is -only a question of”—the word “time” seemed to have been -written here and erased in favour of something illegible—“before -they get me. They are beating all about me.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the writing became convulsive. “I can hear them,” I guessed -the tracing meant, and then it was quite unreadable for a space. Then came a -little string of words that were quite distinct: “a different sort of -Selenite altogether, who appears to be directing the—” The writing -became a mere hasty confusion again. -</p> - -<p> -“They have larger brain cases—much larger, and slenderer bodies, -and very short legs. They make gentle noises, and move with organized -deliberation... -</p> - -<p> -“And though I am wounded and helpless here, their appearance still gives -me hope.” That was like Cavor. “They have not shot at me or -attempted... injury. I intend—” -</p> - -<p> -Then came the sudden streak of the pencil across the paper, and on the back and -edges—blood! -</p> - -<p> -And as I stood there stupid, and perplexed, with this dumbfounding relic in my -hand, something very soft and light and chill touched my hand for a moment and -ceased to be, and then a thing, a little white speck, drifted athwart a shadow. -It was a tiny snowflake, the first snowflake, the herald of the night. -</p> - -<p> -I looked up with a start, and the sky had darkened almost to blackness, and was -thick with a gathering multitude of coldly watchful stars. I looked eastward, -and the light of that shrivelled world was touched with sombre bronze; -westward, and the sun robbed now by a thickening white mist of half its heat -and splendour, was touching the crater rim, was sinking out of sight, and all -the shrubs and jagged and tumbled rocks stood out against it in a bristling -disorder of black shapes. Into the great lake of darkness westward, a vast -wreath of mist was sinking. A cold wind set all the crater shivering. Suddenly, -for a moment, I was in a puff of falling snow, and all the world about me grey -and dim. -</p> - -<p> -And then it was I heard, not loud and penetrating as at first, but faint and -dim like a dying voice, that tolling, that same tolling that had welcomed the -coming of the day: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... -</p> - -<p> -It echoed about the crater, it seemed to throb with the throbbing of the -greater stars, the blood-red crescent of the sun’s disc sank as it tolled -out: Boom!... Boom!... Boom!... -</p> - -<p> -What had happened to Cavor? All through that tolling I stood there stupidly, -and at last the tolling ceased. -</p> - -<p> -And suddenly the open mouth of the tunnel down below there, shut like an eye -and vanished out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -Then indeed was I alone. -</p> - -<p> -Over me, around me, closing in on me, embracing me ever nearer, was the -Eternal; that which was before the beginning, and that which triumphs over the -end; that enormous void in which all light and life and being is but the thin -and vanishing splendour of a falling star, the cold, the stillness, the -silence—the infinite and final Night of space. -</p> - -<p> -The sense of solitude and desolation became the sense of an overwhelming -presence that stooped towards me, that almost touched me. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” I cried. “<i>No!</i> Not yet! not yet! Wait! Wait! Oh, -wait!” My voice went up to a shriek. I flung the crumpled paper from me, -scrambled back to the crest to take my bearings, and then, with all the will -that was in me, leapt out towards the mark I had left, dim and distant now in -the very margin of the shadow. -</p> - -<p> -Leap, leap, leap, and each leap was seven ages. -</p> - -<p> -Before me the pale serpent-girdled section of the sun sank and sank, and the -advancing shadow swept to seize the sphere before I could reach it. I was two -miles away, a hundred leaps or more, and the air about me was thinning out as -it thins under an air-pump, and the cold was gripping at my joints. But had I -died, I should have died leaping. Once, and then again my foot slipped on the -gathering snow as I leapt and shortened my leap; once I fell short into bushes -that crashed and smashed into dusty chips and nothingness, and once I stumbled -as I dropped and rolled head over heels into a gully, and rose bruised and -bleeding and confused as to my direction. -</p> - -<p> -But such incidents were as nothing to the intervals, those awful pauses when -one drifted through the air towards that pouring tide of night. My breathing -made a piping noise, and it was as though knives were whirling in my lungs. My -heart seemed to beat against the top of my brain. “Shall I reach it? O -Heaven! Shall I reach it?” -</p> - -<p> -My whole being became anguish. -</p> - -<p> -“Lie down!” screamed my pain and despair; “lie down!” -</p> - -<p> -The nearer I struggled, the more awfully remote it seemed. I was numb, I -stumbled, I bruised and cut myself and did not bleed. -</p> - -<p> -It was in sight. -</p> - -<p> -I fell on all fours, and my lungs whooped. -</p> - -<p> -I crawled. The frost gathered on my lips, icicles hung from my moustache, I was -white with the freezing atmosphere. -</p> - -<p> -I was a dozen yards from it. My eyes had become dim. “Lie down!” -screamed despair; “lie down!” -</p> - -<p> -I touched it, and halted. “Too late!” screamed despair; “lie -down!” -</p> - -<p> -I fought stiffly with it. I was on the manhole lip, a stupefied, half-dead -being. The snow was all about me. I pulled myself in. There lurked within a -little warmer air. -</p> - -<p> -The snowflakes—the airflakes—danced in about me, as I tried with -chilling hands to thrust the valve in and spun it tight and hard. I sobbed. -“I will,” I chattered in my teeth. And then, with fingers that -quivered and felt brittle, I turned to the shutter studs. -</p> - -<p> -As I fumbled with the switches—for I had never controlled them -before—I could see dimly through the steaming glass the blazing red -streamers of the sinking sun, dancing and flickering through the snowstorm, and -the black forms of the scrub thickening and bending and breaking beneath the -accumulating snow. Thicker whirled the snow and thicker, black against the -light. What if even now the switches overcame me? Then something clicked under -my hands, and in an instant that last vision of the moon world was hidden from -my eyes. I was in the silence and darkness of the inter-planetary sphere. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap20"></a>XX.<br /> -Mr. Bedford in Infinite Space</h2> - -<p> -It was almost as though I had been killed. Indeed, I could imagine a man -suddenly and violently killed would feel very much as I did. One moment, a -passion of agonising existence and fear; the next, darkness and stillness, -neither light nor life nor sun, moon nor stars, the blank infinite. Although -the thing was done by my own act, although I had already tasted this very of -effect in Cavor’s company, I felt astonished, dumbfounded, and -overwhelmed. I seemed to be borne upward into an enormous darkness. My fingers -floated off the studs, I hung as if I were annihilated, and at last very softly -and gently I came against the bale and the golden chain, and the crowbars that -had drifted to the middle of the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -I do not know how long that drifting took. In the sphere of course, even more -than on the moon, one’s earthly time sense was ineffectual. At the touch -of the bale it was as if I had awakened from a dreamless sleep. I immediately -perceived that if I wanted to keep awake and alive I must get a light or open a -window, so as to get a grip of something with my eyes. And besides, I was cold. -I kicked off from the bale, therefore, clawed on to the thin cords within the -glass, crawled along until I got to the manhole rim, and so got my bearings for -the light and blind studs, took a shove off, and flying once round the bale, -and getting a scare from something big and flimsy that was drifting loose, I -got my hand on the cord quite close to the studs, and reached them. I lit the -little lamp first of all to see what it was I had collided with, and discovered -that old copy of <i>Lloyd’s News</i> had slipped its moorings, and was -adrift in the void. That brought me out of the infinite to my own proper -dimensions again. It made me laugh and pant for a time, and suggested the idea -of a little oxygen from one of the cylinders. After that I lit the heater until -I felt warm, and then I took food. Then I set to work in a very gingerly -fashion on the Cavorite blinds, to see if I could guess by any means how the -sphere was travelling. -</p> - -<p> -The first blind I opened I shut at once, and hung for a time flattened and -blinded by the sunlight that had hit me. After thinking a little I started upon -the windows at right angles to this one, and got the huge crescent moon and the -little crescent earth behind it, the second time. I was amazed to find how far -I was from the moon. I had reckoned that not only should I have little or none -of the “kick-off” that the earth’s atmosphere had given us at -our start, but that the tangential “fly off” of the moon’s -spin would be at least twenty-eight times less than the earth’s. I had -expected to discover myself hanging over our crater, and on the edge of the -night, but all that was now only a part of the outline of the white crescent -that filled the sky. And Cavor—? -</p> - -<p> -He was already infinitesimal. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to imagine what could have happened to him. But at that time I could -think of nothing but death. I seemed to see him, bent and smashed at the foot -of some interminably high cascade of blue. And all about him the stupid insects -stared... -</p> - -<p> -Under the inspiring touch of the drifting newspaper I became practical again -for a while. It was quite clear to me that what I had to do was to get back to -earth, but as far as I could see I was drifting away from it. Whatever had -happened to Cavor, even if he was still alive, which seemed to me incredible -after that blood-stained scrap, I was powerless to help him. There he was, -living or dead behind the mantle of that rayless night, and there he must -remain at least until I could summon our fellow men to his assistance. Should I -do that? Something of the sort I had in my mind; to come back to earth if it -were possible, and then as maturer consideration might determine, either to -show and explain the sphere to a few discreet persons, and act with them, or -else to keep my secret, sell my gold, obtain weapons, provisions, and an -assistant, and return with these advantages to deal on equal terms with the -flimsy people of the moon, to rescue Cavor, if that were still possible, and at -any rate to procure a sufficient supply of gold to place my subsequent -proceedings on a firmer basis. But that was hoping far; I had first to get -back. -</p> - -<p> -I set myself to decide just exactly how the return to earth could be contrived. -As I struggled with that problem I ceased to worry about what I should do when -I got there. At last my only care was to get back. -</p> - -<p> -I puzzled out at last that my best chance would be to drop back towards the -moon as near as I dared in order to gather velocity, then to shut my windows, -and fly behind it, and when I was past to open my earthward windows, and so get -off at a good pace homeward. But whether I should ever reach the earth by that -device, or whether I might not simply find myself spinning about it in some -hyperbolic or parabolic curve or other, I could not tell. Later I had a happy -inspiration, and by opening certain windows to the moon, which had appeared in -the sky in front of the earth, I turned my course aside so as to head off the -earth, which it had become evident to me I must pass behind without some such -expedient. I did a very great deal of complicated thinking over these -problems—for I am no mathematician—and in the end I am certain it -was much more my good luck than my reasoning that enabled me to hit the earth. -Had I known then, as I know now, the mathematical chances there were against -me, I doubt if I should have troubled even to touch the studs to make any -attempt. And having puzzled out what I considered to be the thing to do, I -opened all my moonward windows, and squatted down—the effort lifted me -for a time some feet or so into the air, and I hung there in the oddest -way—and waited for the crescent to get bigger and bigger until I felt I -was near enough for safety. Then I would shut the windows, fly past the moon -with the velocity I had got from it—if I did not smash upon it—and -so go on towards the earth. -</p> - -<p> -And that is what I did. -</p> - -<p> -At last I felt my moonward start was sufficient. I shut out the sight of the -moon from my eyes, and in a state of mind that was, I now recall, incredibly -free from anxiety or any distressful quality, I sat down to begin a vigil in -that little speck of matter in infinite space that would last until I should -strike the earth. The heater had made the sphere tolerably warm, the air had -been refreshed by the oxygen, and except for that faint congestion of the head -that was always with me while I was away from earth, I felt entire physical -comfort. I had extinguished the light again, lest it should fail me in the end; -I was in darkness, save for the earthshine and the glitter of the stars below -me. Everything was so absolutely silent and still that I might indeed have been -the only being in the universe, and yet, strangely enough, I had no more -feeling of loneliness or fear than if I had been lying in bed on earth. Now, -this seems all the stranger to me, since during my last hours in that crater of -the moon, the sense of my utter loneliness had been an agony.... -</p> - -<p> -Incredible as it will seem, this interval of time that I spent in space has no -sort of proportion to any other interval of time in my life. Sometimes it -seemed as though I sat through immeasurable eternities like some god upon a -lotus leaf, and again as though there was a momentary pause as I leapt from -moon to earth. In truth, it was altogether some weeks of earthly time. But I -had done with care and anxiety, hunger or fear, for that space. I floated, -thinking with a strange breadth and freedom of all that we had undergone, and -of all my life and motives, and the secret issues of my being. I seemed to -myself to have grown greater and greater, to have lost all sense of movement; -to be floating amidst the stars, and always the sense of earth’s -littleness and the infinite littleness of my life upon it, was implicit in my -thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -I can’t profess to explain the things that happened in my mind. No doubt -they could all be traced directly or indirectly to the curious physical -conditions under which I was living. I set them down here just for what they -are worth, and without any comment. The most prominent quality of it was a -pervading doubt of my own identity. I became, if I may so express it, -dissociate from Bedford; I looked down on Bedford as a trivial, incidental -thing with which I chanced to be connected. I saw Bedford in many -relations—as an ass or as a poor beast, where I had hitherto been -inclined to regard him with a quiet pride as a very spirited or rather forcible -person. I saw him not only as an ass, but as the son of many generations of -asses. I reviewed his school-days and his early manhood, and his first -encounter with love, very much as one might review the proceedings of an ant in -the sand. Something of that period of lucidity I regret still hangs about me, -and I doubt if I shall ever recover the full-bodied self satisfaction of my -early days. But at the time the thing was not in the least painful, because I -had that extraordinary persuasion that, as a matter of fact, I was no more -Bedford than I was any one else, but only a mind floating in the still serenity -of space. Why should I be disturbed about this Bedford’s shortcomings? I -was not responsible for him or them. -</p> - -<p> -For a time I struggled against this really very grotesque delusion. I tried to -summon the memory of vivid moments, of tender or intense emotions to my -assistance; I felt that if I could recall one genuine twinge of feeling the -growing severance would be stopped. But I could not do it. I saw Bedford -rushing down Chancery Lane, hat on the back of his head, coat tails flying out, -<i>en route</i> for his public examination. I saw him dodging and bumping -against, and even saluting, other similar little creatures in that swarming -gutter of people. Me? I saw Bedford that same evening in the sitting-room of a -certain lady, and his hat was on the table beside him, and it wanted brushing -badly, and he was in tears. Me? I saw him with that lady in various attitudes -and emotions—I never felt so detached before.... I saw him hurrying off -to Lympne to write a play, and accosting Cavor, and in his shirt sleeves -working at the sphere, and walking out to Canterbury because he was afraid to -come! Me? I did not believe it. -</p> - -<p> -I still reasoned that all this was hallucination due to my solitude, and the -fact that I had lost all weight and sense of resistance. I endeavoured to -recover that sense by banging myself about the sphere, by pinching my hands and -clasping them together. Among other things, I lit the light, captured that torn -copy of <i>Lloyd’s</i>, and read those convincingly realistic -advertisements about the Cutaway bicycle, and the gentleman of private means, -and the lady in distress who was selling those “forks and spoons.” -There was no doubt they existed surely enough, and, said I, “This is your -world, and you are Bedford, and you are going back to live among things like -that for all the rest of your life.” But the doubts within me could still -argue: “It is not you that is reading, it is Bedford, but you are not -Bedford, you know. That’s just where the mistake comes in.” -</p> - -<p> -“Confound it!” I cried; “and if I am not Bedford, what am -I?” -</p> - -<p> -But in that direction no light was forthcoming, though the strangest fancies -came drifting into my brain, queer remote suspicions, like shadows seen from -away. Do you know, I had a sort of idea that really I was something quite -outside not only the world, but all worlds, and out of space and time, and that -this poor Bedford was just a peephole through which I looked at life? ... -</p> - -<p> -Bedford! However I disavowed him, there I was most certainly bound up with him, -and I knew that wherever or whatever I might be, I must needs feel the stress -of his desires, and sympathise with all his joys and sorrows until his life -should end. And with the dying of Bedford—what then? ... -</p> - -<p> -Enough of this remarkable phase of my experiences! I tell it here simply to -show how one’s isolation and departure from this planet touched not only -the functions and feeling of every organ of the body, but indeed also the very -fabric of the mind, with strange and unanticipated disturbances. All through -the major portion of that vast space journey I hung thinking of such immaterial -things as these, hung dissociated and apathetic, a cloudy megalomaniac, as it -were, amidst the stars and planets in the void of space; and not only the world -to which I was returning, but the blue-lit caverns of the Selenites, their -helmet faces, their gigantic and wonderful machines, and the fate of Cavor, -dragged helpless into that world, seemed infinitely minute and altogether -trivial things to me. -</p> - -<p> -Until at last I began to feel the pull of the earth upon my being, drawing me -back again to the life that is real for men. And then, indeed, it grew clearer -and clearer to me that I was quite certainly Bedford after all, and returning -after amazing adventures to this world of ours, and with a life that I was very -likely to lose in this return. I set myself to puzzle out the conditions under -which I must fall to earth. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap21"></a>XXI.<br /> -Mr. Bedford at Littlestone</h2> - -<p> -My line of flight was about parallel with the surface as I came into the upper -air. The temperature of the sphere began to rise forthwith. I knew it behoved -me to drop at once. Far below me, in a darkling twilight, stretched a great -expanse of sea. I opened every window I could, and fell—out of sunshine -into evening, and out of evening into night. Vaster grew the earth and vaster, -swallowing up the stars, and the silvery translucent starlit veil of cloud it -wore spread out to catch me. At last the world seemed no longer a sphere but -flat, and then concave. It was no longer a planet in the sky, but the world of -Man. I shut all but an inch or so of earthward window, and dropped with a -slackening velocity. The broadening water, now so near that I could see the -dark glitter of the waves, rushed up to meet me. The sphere became very hot. I -snapped the last strip of window, and sat scowling and biting my knuckles, -waiting for the impact.... -</p> - -<p> -The sphere hit the water with a huge splash: it must have sent it fathoms high. -At the splash I flung the Cavorite shutters open. Down I went, but slower and -slower, and then I felt the sphere pressing against my feet, and so drove up -again as a bubble drives. And at the last I was floating and rocking upon the -surface of the sea, and my journey in space was at an end. -</p> - -<p> -The night was dark and overcast. Two yellow pinpoints far away showed the -passing of a ship, and nearer was a red glare that came and went. Had not the -electricity of my glow-lamp exhausted itself, I could have got picked up that -night. In spite of the inordinate fatigue I was beginning to feel, I was -excited now, and for a time hopeful, in a feverish, impatient way, that so my -travelling might end. -</p> - -<p> -But at last I ceased to move about, and sat, wrists on knees, staring at a -distant red light. It swayed up and down, rocking, rocking. My excitement -passed. I realised I had yet to spend another night at least in the sphere. I -perceived myself infinitely heavy and fatigued. And so I fell asleep. -</p> - -<p> -A change in my rhythmic motion awakened me. I peered through the refracting -glass, and saw that I had come aground upon a huge shallow of sand. Far away I -seemed to see houses and trees, and seaward a curved, vague distortion of a -ship hung between sea and sky. -</p> - -<p> -I stood up and staggered. My one desire was to emerge. The manhole was upward, -and I wrestled with the screw. Slowly I opened the manhole. At last the air was -singing in again as once it had sung out. But this time I did not wait until -the pressure was adjusted. In another moment I had the weight of the window on -my hands, and I was open, wide open, to the old familiar sky of earth. -</p> - -<p> -The air hit me on the chest so that I gasped. I dropped the glass screw. I -cried out, put my hands to my chest, and sat down. For a time I was in pain. -Then I took deep breaths. At last I could rise and move about again. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to thrust my head through the manhole, and the sphere rolled over. It -was as though something had lugged my head down directly it emerged. I ducked -back sharply, or I should have been pinned face under water. After some -wriggling and shoving I managed to crawl out upon sand, over which the -retreating waves still came and went. -</p> - -<p> -I did not attempt to stand up. It seemed to me that my body must be suddenly -changed to lead. Mother Earth had her grip on me now—no Cavorite -intervening. I sat down heedless of the water that came over my feet. -</p> - -<p> -It was dawn, a grey dawn, rather overcast but showing here and there a long -patch of greenish grey. Some way out a ship was lying at anchor, a pale -silhouette of a ship with one yellow light. The water came rippling in in long -shallow waves. Away to the right curved the land, a shingle bank with little -hovels, and at last a lighthouse, a sailing mark and a point. Inland stretched -a space of level sand, broken here and there by pools of water, and ending a -mile away perhaps in a low shore of scrub. To the north-east some isolated -watering-place was visible, a row of gaunt lodging-houses, the tallest things -that I could see on earth, dull dabs against the brightening sky. What strange -men can have reared these vertical piles in such an amplitude of space I do not -know. There they are, like pieces of Brighton lost in the waste. -</p> - -<p> -For a long time I sat there, yawning and rubbing my face. At last I struggled -to rise. It made me feel that I was lifting a weight. I stood up. -</p> - -<p> -I stared at the distant houses. For the first time since our starvation in the -crater I thought of earthly food. “Bacon,” I whispered, -“eggs. Good toast and good coffee.... And how the devil am I going to get -all this stuff to Lympne?” I wondered where I was. It was an east shore -anyhow, and I had seen Europe before I dropped. -</p> - -<p> -I heard footsteps crunching in the sand, and a little round-faced, -friendly-looking man in flannels, with a bathing towel wrapped about his -shoulders, and his bathing dress over his arm, appeared up the beach. I knew -instantly that I must be in England. He was staring most intently at the sphere -and me. He advanced staring. I dare say I looked a ferocious savage -enough—dirty, unkempt, to an indescribable degree; but it did not occur -to me at the time. He stopped at a distance of twenty yards. “Hul-lo, my -man!” he said doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -“Hullo yourself!” said I. -</p> - -<p> -He advanced, reassured by that. “What on earth is that thing?” he -asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Can you tell me where I am?” I asked. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s Littlestone,” he said, pointing to the houses; -“and that’s Dungeness! Have you just landed? What’s that -thing you’ve got? Some sort of machine?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Have you floated ashore? Have you been wrecked or something? What is -it?” -</p> - -<p> -I meditated swiftly. I made an estimate of the little man’s appearance as -he drew nearer. “By Jove!” he said, “you’ve had a time -of it! I thought you— Well— Where were you cast away? Is that thing -a sort of floating thing for saving life?” -</p> - -<p> -I decided to take that line for the present. I made a few vague affirmatives. -“I want help,” I said hoarsely. “I want to get some stuff up -the beach—stuff I can’t very well leave about.” I became -aware of three other pleasant-looking young men with towels, blazers, and straw -hats, coming down the sands towards me. Evidently the early bathing section of -this Littlestone. -</p> - -<p> -“Help!” said the young man: “rather!” He became vaguely -active. “What particularly do you want done?” He turned round and -gesticulated. The three young men accelerated their pace. In a minute they -were about me, plying me with questions I was indisposed to answer. -“I’ll tell all that later,” I said. “I’m dead -beat. I’m a rag.” -</p> - -<p> -“Come up to the hotel,” said the foremost little man. -“We’ll look after that thing there.” -</p> - -<p> -I hesitated. “I can’t,” I said. “In that sphere -there’s two big bars of gold.” -</p> - -<p> -They looked incredulously at one another, then at me with a new inquiry. I went -to the sphere, stooped, crept in, and presently they had the Selenites’ -crowbars and the broken chain before them. If I had not been so horribly fagged -I could have laughed at them. It was like kittens round a beetle. They -didn’t know what to do with the stuff. The fat little man stooped and -lifted the end of one of the bars, and then dropped it with a grunt. Then they -all did. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s lead, or gold!” said one. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, it’s <i>gold!</i>” said another. -</p> - -<p> -“Gold, right enough,” said the third. -</p> - -<p> -Then they all stared at me, and then they all stared at the ship lying at -anchor. -</p> - -<p> -“I say!” cried the little man. “But where did you get -that?” -</p> - -<p> -I was too tired to keep up a lie. “I got it in the moon.” -</p> - -<p> -I saw them stare at one another. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here!” said I, “I’m not going to argue now. Help -me carry these lumps of gold up to the hotel—I guess, with rests, two of -you can manage one, and I’ll trail this chain thing—and I’ll -tell you more when I’ve had some food.” -</p> - -<p> -“And how about that thing?” -</p> - -<p> -“It won’t hurt there,” I said. “Anyhow—confound -it!—it must stop there now. If the tide comes up, it will float all -right.” -</p> - -<p> -And in a state of enormous wonderment, these young men most obediently hoisted -my treasures on their shoulders, and with limbs that felt like lead I headed a -sort of procession towards that distant fragment of “sea-front.” -Half-way there we were reinforced by two awe-stricken little girls with spades, -and later a lean little boy, with a penetrating sniff, appeared. He was, I -remember, wheeling a bicycle, and he accompanied us at a distance of about a -hundred yards on our right flank, and then I suppose, gave us up as -uninteresting, mounted his bicycle and rode off over the level sands in the -direction of the sphere. -</p> - -<p> -I glanced back after him. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>He</i> won’t touch it,” said the stout young man -reassuringly, and I was only too willing to be reassured. -</p> - -<p> -At first something of the grey of the morning was in my mind, but presently the -sun disengaged itself from the level clouds of the horizon and lit the world, -and turned the leaden sea to glittering waters. My spirits rose. A sense of the -vast importance of the things I had done and had yet to do came with the -sunlight into my mind. I laughed aloud as the foremost man staggered under my -gold. When indeed I took my place in the world, how amazed the world would be! -</p> - -<p> -If it had not been for my inordinate fatigue, the landlord of the Littlestone -hotel would have been amusing, as he hesitated between my gold and my -respectable company on the one and my filthy appearance on the other. But at -last I found myself in a terrestrial bathroom once more with warm water to wash -myself with, and a change of raiment, preposterously small indeed, but anyhow -clean, that the genial little man had lent me. He lent me a razor too, but I -could not screw up my resolution to attack even the outposts of the bristling -beard that covered my face. -</p> - -<p> -I sat down to an English breakfast and ate with a sort of languid -appetite—an appetite many weeks old and very decrepit—and stirred -myself to answer the questions of the four young men. And I told them the -truth. -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” said I, “as you press me—I got it in the -moon.” -</p> - -<p> -“The moon?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, the moon in the sky.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“What I say, confound it!” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you have just come from the moon?” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly! through space—in that ball.” And I took a delicious -mouthful of egg. I made a private note that when I went back to the moon I -would take a box of eggs. -</p> - -<p> -I could see clearly that they did not believe one word of what I told them, but -evidently they considered me the most respectable liar they had ever met. They -glanced at one another, and then concentrated the fire of their eyes on me. I -fancy they expected a clue to me in the way I helped myself to salt. They -seemed to find something significant in my peppering my egg. These strangely -shaped masses of gold they had staggered under held their minds. There the -lumps lay in front of me, each worth thousands of pounds, and as impossible for -any one to steal as a house or a piece of land. As I looked at their curious -faces over my coffee-cup, I realised something of the enormous wilderness of -explanations into which I should have to wander to render myself comprehensible -again. -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t <i>really</i> mean—” began the youngest -young man, in the tone of one who speaks to an obstinate child. -</p> - -<p> -“Just pass me that toast-rack,” I said, and shut him up completely. -</p> - -<p> -“But look here, I say,” began one of the others. “We’re -not going to believe that, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well,” said I, and shrugged my shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“He doesn’t want to tell us,” said the youngest young man in -a stage aside; and then, with an appearance of great <i>sang-froid</i>, -“You don’t mind if I take a cigarette?” -</p> - -<p> -I waved him a cordial assent, and proceeded with my breakfast. Two of the -others went and looked out of the farther window and talked inaudibly. I was -struck by a thought. “The tide,” I said, “is running -out?” -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause, a doubt who should answer me. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s near the ebb,” said the fat little man. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, anyhow,” I said, “it won’t float far.” -</p> - -<p> -I decapitated my third egg, and began a little speech. “Look here,” -I said. “Please don’t imagine I’m surly or telling you -uncivil lies, or anything of that sort. I’m forced almost, to be a little -short and mysterious. I can quite understand this is as queer as it can be, and -that your imaginations must be going it. I can assure you, you’re in at a -memorable time. But I can’t make it clear to you now—it’s -impossible. I give you my word of honour I’ve come from the moon, and -that’s all I can tell you.... All the same, I’m tremendously -obliged to you, you know, tremendously. I hope that my manner hasn’t in -any way given you offence.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, not in the least!” said the youngest young man affably. -“We can quite understand,” and staring hard at me all the time, he -heeled his chair back until it very nearly upset, and recovered with some -exertion. “Not a bit of it,” said the fat young man. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you imagine <i>that!</i>” and they all got up and -dispersed, and walked about and lit cigarettes, and generally tried to show -they were perfectly amiable and disengaged, and entirely free from the -slightest curiosity about me and the sphere. “I’m going to keep an -eye on that ship out there all the same,” I heard one of them remarking -in an undertone. If only they could have forced themselves to it, they would, I -believe, even have gone out and left me. I went on with my third egg. -</p> - -<p> -“The weather,” the fat little man remarked presently, “has -been immense, has it not? I don’t know <i>when</i> we have had such a -summer.” -</p> - -<p> -Phoo-whizz! Like a tremendous rocket! -</p> - -<p> -And somewhere a window was broken.... -</p> - -<p> -“What’s that?” said I. -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t—?” cried the little man, and rushed to the -corner window. -</p> - -<p> -All the others rushed to the window likewise. I sat staring at them. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly I leapt up, knocked over my third egg, rushed for the window also. I -had just thought of something. “Nothing to be seen there,” cried -the little man, rushing for the door. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s that boy!” I cried, bawling in hoarse fury; -“it’s that accursed boy!” and turning about I pushed the -waiter aside—he was just bringing me some more toast—and rushed -violently out of the room and down and out upon the queer little esplanade in -front of the hotel. -</p> - -<p> -The sea, which had been smooth, was rough now with hurrying cat’s-paws, -and all about where the sphere had been was tumbled water like the wake of a -ship. Above, a little puff of cloud whirled like dispersing smoke, and the -three or four people on the beach were staring up with interrogative faces -towards the point of that unexpected report. And that was all! Boots and waiter -and the four young men in blazers came rushing out behind me. Shouts came from -windows and doors, and all sorts of worrying people came into -sight—agape. -</p> - -<p> -For a time I stood there, too overwhelmed by this new development to think of -the people. -</p> - -<p> -At first I was too stunned to see the thing as any definite disaster—I -was just stunned, as a man is by some accidental violent blow. It is only -afterwards he begins to appreciate his specific injury. -</p> - -<p> -“Good Lord!” -</p> - -<p> -I felt as though somebody was pouring funk out of a can down the back of my -neck. My legs became feeble. I had got the first intimation of what the -disaster meant for me. There was that confounded boy—sky high! I was -utterly left. There was the gold in the coffee-room—my only possession on -earth. How would it all work out? The general effect was of a gigantic -unmanageable confusion. -</p> - -<p> -“I say,” said the voice of the little man behind. “I -<i>say</i>, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -I wheeled about, and there were twenty or thirty people, a sort of irregular -investment of people, all bombarding me with dumb interrogation, with infinite -doubt and suspicion. I felt the compulsion of their eyes intolerably. I groaned -aloud. -</p> - -<p> -“I <i>can’t</i>,” I shouted. “I tell you I can’t! -I’m not equal to it! You must puzzle and—and be damned to -you!” -</p> - -<p> -I gesticulated convulsively. He receded a step as though I had threatened him. -I made a bolt through them into the hotel. I charged back into the coffee-room, -rang the bell furiously. I gripped the waiter as he entered. “D’ye -hear?” I shouted. “Get help and carry these bars up to my room -right away.” -</p> - -<p> -He failed to understand me, and I shouted and raved at him. A scared-looking -little old man in a green apron appeared, and further two of the young men in -flannels. I made a dash at them and commandeered their services. As soon as the -gold was in my room I felt free to quarrel. “Now get out,” I -shouted; “all of you get out if you don’t want to see a man go mad -before your eyes!” And I helped the waiter by the shoulder as he -hesitated in the doorway. And then, as soon as I had the door locked on them -all, I tore off the little man’s clothes again, shied them right and -left, and got into bed forthwith. And there I lay swearing and panting and -cooling for a very long time. -</p> - -<p> -At last I was calm enough to get out of bed and ring up the round-eyed waiter -for a flannel nightshirt, a soda and whisky, and some good cigars. And these -things being procured me, after an exasperating delay that drove me several -times to the bell, I locked the door again and proceeded very deliberately to -look the entire situation in the face. -</p> - -<p> -The net result of the great experiment presented itself as an absolute failure. -It was a rout, and I was the sole survivor. It was an absolute collapse, and -this was the final disaster. There was nothing for it but to save myself, and -as much as I could in the way of prospects from our <i>débâcle</i>. At one -fatal crowning blow all my vague resolutions of return and recovery had -vanished. My intention of going back to the moon, of getting a sphereful of -gold, and afterwards of having a fragment of Cavorite analysed and so -recovering the great secret—perhaps, finally, even of recovering -Cavor’s body—all these ideas vanished altogether. -</p> - -<p> -I was the sole survivor, and that was all. -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -I think that going to bed was one of the luckiest ideas I have ever had in an -emergency. I really believe I should either have got loose-headed or done some -indiscreet thing. But there, locked in and secure from all interruptions, I -could think out the position in all its bearings and make my arrangements at -leisure. -</p> - -<p> -Of course, it was quite clear to me what had happened to the boy. He had -crawled into the sphere, meddled with the studs, shut the Cavorite windows, and -gone up. It was highly improbable he had screwed the manhole stopper, and, even -if he had, the chances were a thousand to one against his getting back. It was -fairly evident that he would gravitate with my bales to somewhere near the -middle of the sphere and remain there, and so cease to be a legitimate -terrestrial interest, however remarkable he might seem to the inhabitants of -some remote quarter of space. I very speedily convinced myself on that point. -And as for any responsibility I might have in the matter, the more I reflected -upon that, the clearer it became that if only I kept quiet about things, I need -not trouble myself about that. If I was faced by sorrowing parents demanding -their lost boy, I had merely to demand my lost sphere—or ask them what -they meant. At first I had had a vision of weeping parents and guardians, and -all sorts of complications; but now I saw that I simply had to keep my mouth -shut, and nothing in that way could arise. And, indeed, the more I lay and -smoked and thought, the more evident became the wisdom of impenetrability. -</p> - -<p> -It is within the right of every British citizen, provided he does not commit -damage nor indecorum, to appear suddenly wherever he pleases, and as ragged and -filthy as he pleases, and with whatever amount of virgin gold he sees fit to -encumber himself, and no one has any right at all to hinder and detain him in -this procedure. I formulated that at last to myself, and repeated it over as a -sort of private Magna Charta of my liberty. -</p> - -<p> -Once I had put that issue on one side, I could take up and consider in an -equable manner certain considerations I had scarcely dared to think of before, -namely, those arising out of the circumstances of my bankruptcy. But now, -looking at this matter calmly and at leisure, I could see that if only I -suppressed my identity by a temporary assumption of some less well-known name, -and if I retained the two months’ beard that had grown upon me, the risks -of any annoyance from the spiteful creditor to whom I have already alluded -became very small indeed. From that to a definite course of rational worldly -action was plain sailing. It was all amazingly petty, no doubt, but what was -there remaining for me to do? -</p> - -<p> -Whatever I did I was resolved that I would keep myself level and right side up. -</p> - -<p> -I ordered up writing materials, and addressed a letter to the New Romney -Bank—the nearest, the waiter informed me—telling the manager I -wished to open an account with him, and requesting him to send two trustworthy -persons properly authenticated in a cab with a good horse to fetch some -hundredweight of gold with which I happened to be encumbered. I signed the -letter “Blake,” which seemed to me to be a thoroughly respectable -sort of name. This done, I got a Folkstone Blue Book, picked out an outfitter, -and asked him to send a cutter to measure me for a dark tweed suit, ordering at -the same time a valise, dressing bag, brown boots, shirts, hat (to fit), and so -forth; and from a watchmaker I also ordered a watch. And these letters being -despatched, I had up as good a lunch as the hotel could give, and then lay -smoking a cigar, as calm and ordinary as possible, until in accordance with my -instructions two duly authenticated clerks came from the bank and weighed and -took away my gold. After which I pulled the clothes over my ears in order to -drown any knocking, and went very comfortably to sleep. -</p> - -<p> -I went to sleep. No doubt it was a prosaic thing for the first man back from -the moon to do, and I can imagine that the young and imaginative reader will -find my behaviour disappointing. But I was horribly fatigued and bothered, and, -confound it! what else was there to do? There certainly was not the remotest -chance of my being believed, if I had told my story then, and it would -certainly have subjected me to intolerable annoyances. I went to sleep. When at -last I woke up again I was ready to face the world as I have always been -accustomed to face it since I came to years of discretion. And so I got away to -Italy, and there it is I am writing this story. If the world will not have it -as fact, then the world may take it as fiction. It is no concern of mine. -</p> - -<p> -And now that the account is finished, I am amazed to think how completely this -adventure is gone and done with. Everybody believes that Cavor was a not very -brilliant scientific experimenter who blew up his house and himself at Lympne, -and they explain the bang that followed my arrival at Littlestone by a -reference to the experiments with explosives that are going on continually at -the government establishment of Lydd, two miles away. I must confess that -hitherto I have not acknowledged my share in the disappearance of Master Tommy -Simmons, which was that little boy’s name. That, perhaps, may prove a -difficult item of corroboration to explain away. They account for my appearance -in rags with two bars of indisputable gold upon the Littlestone beach in -various ingenious ways—it doesn’t worry me what they think of me. -They say I have strung all these things together to avoid being questioned too -closely as to the source of my wealth. I would like to see the man who could -invent a story that would hold together like this one. Well, they must take it -as fiction—there it is. -</p> - -<p> -I have told my story—and now, I suppose, I have to take up the worries of -this terrestrial life again. Even if one has been to the moon, one has still to -earn a living. So I am working here at Amalfi, on the scenario of that play I -sketched before Cavor came walking into my world, and I am trying to piece my -life together as it was before ever I saw him. I must confess that I find it -hard to keep my mind on the play when the moonshine comes into my room. It is -full moon here, and last night I was out on the pergola for hours, staring away -at the shining blankness that hides so much. Imagine it! tables and chairs, and -trestles and bars of gold! Confound it!—if only one could hit on that -Cavorite again! But a thing like that doesn’t come twice in a life. Here -I am, a little better off than I was at Lympne, and that is all. And Cavor has -committed suicide in a more elaborate way than any human being ever did before. -So the story closes as finally and completely as a dream. It fits in so little -with all the other things of life, so much of it is so utterly remote from all -human experience, the leaping, the eating, the breathing, and these weightless -times, that indeed there are moments when, in spite of my moon gold, I do more -than half believe myself that the whole thing was a dream.... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap22"></a>XXII.<br /> -The Astonishing Communication of Mr. Julius Wendigee</h2> - -<p> -When I had finished my account of my return to the earth at Littlestone, I -wrote, “The End,” made a flourish, and threw my pen aside, fully -believing that the whole story of the First Men in the Moon was done. Not only -had I done this, but I had placed my manuscript in the hands of a literary -agent, had permitted it to be sold, had seen the greater portion of it appear -in the <i>Strand Magazine</i>, and was setting to work again upon the scenario -of the play I had commenced at Lympne before I realised that the end was not -yet. And then, following me from Amalfi to Algiers, there reached me (it is now -about six months ago) one of the most astounding communications I have ever -been fated to receive. Briefly, it informed me that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a -Dutch electrician, who has been experimenting with certain apparatus akin to -the apparatus used by Mr. Tesla in America, in the hope of discovering some -method of communication with Mars, was receiving day by day a curiously -fragmentary message in English, which was indisputably emanating from Mr. Cavor -in the moon. -</p> - -<p> -At first I thought the thing was an elaborate practical joke by some one who -had seen the manuscript of my narrative. I answered Mr. Wendigee jestingly, but -he replied in a manner that put such suspicion altogether aside, and in a state -of inconceivable excitement I hurried from Algiers to the little observatory -upon the Monte Rosa in which he was working. In the presence of his record and -his appliances—and above all of the messages from Cavor that were coming -to hand—my lingering doubts vanished. I decided at once to accept a -proposal he made to me to remain with him, assisting him to take down the -record from day to day, and endeavouring with him to send a message back to the -moon. Cavor, we learnt, was not only alive, but free, in the midst of an almost -inconceivable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, in the blue -darkness of the lunar caves. He was lamed, it seemed, but otherwise in quite -good health—in better health, he distinctly said, than he usually enjoyed -on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left no bad effects. But curiously -enough he seemed to be labouring under a conviction that I was either dead in -the moon crater or lost in the deep of space. -</p> - -<p> -His message began to be received by Mr. Wendigee when that gentleman was -engaged in quite a different investigation. The reader will no doubt recall the -little excitement that began the century, arising out of an announcement by Mr. -Nikola Tesla, the American electrical celebrity, that he had received a message -from Mars. His announcement renewed attention to a fact that had long been -familiar to scientific people, namely: that from some unknown source in space, -waves of electromagnetic disturbance, entirely similar to those used by Signor -Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, are constantly reaching the earth. Besides -Tesla quite a number of other observers have been engaged in perfecting -apparatus for receiving and recording these vibrations, though few would go so -far as to consider them actual messages from some extraterrestrial sender. -Among that few, however, we must certainly count Mr. Wendigee. Ever since 1898 -he had devoted himself almost entirely to this subject, and being a man of -ample means he had erected an observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in a -position singularly adapted in every way for such observations. -</p> - -<p> -My scientific attainments, I must admit, are not great, but so far as they -enable me to judge, Mr. Wendigee’s contrivances for detecting and -recording any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space are -singularly original and ingenious. And by a happy combination of circumstances -they were set up and in operation about two months before Cavor made his first -attempt to call up the earth. Consequently we have fragments of his -communication even from the beginning. Unhappily, they are only fragments, and -the most momentous of all the things that he had to tell humanity—the -instructions, that is, for the making of Cavorite, if, indeed, he ever -transmitted them—have throbbed themselves away unrecorded into space. We -never succeeded in getting a response back to Cavor. He was unable to tell, -therefore, what we had received or what we had missed; nor, indeed, did he -certainly know that any one on earth was really aware of his efforts to reach -us. And the persistence he displayed in sending eighteen long descriptions of -lunar affairs—as they would be if we had them complete—shows how -much his mind must have turned back towards his native planet since he left it -two years ago. -</p> - -<p> -You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been when he discovered his -record of electromagnetic disturbances interlaced by Cavor’s -straightforward English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild journey -moonward, and suddenly—this English out of the void! -</p> - -<p> -It is well the reader should understand the conditions under which it would -seem these messages were sent. Somewhere within the moon Cavor certainly had -access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical apparatus, and it -would seem he rigged up—perhaps furtively—a transmitting -arrangement of the Marconi type. This he was able to operate at irregular -intervals: sometimes for only half an hour or so, sometimes for three or four -hours at a stretch. At these times he transmitted his earthward message, -regardless of the fact that the relative position of the moon and points upon -the earth’s surface is constantly altering. As a consequence of this and -of the necessary imperfections of our recording instruments his communication -comes and goes in our records in an extremely fitful manner; it becomes -blurred; it “fades out” in a mysterious and altogether exasperating -way. And added to this is the fact that he was not an expert operator; he had -partly forgotten, or never completely mastered, the code in general use, and as -he became fatigued he dropped words and misspelt in a curious manner. -</p> - -<p> -Altogether we have probably lost quite half of the communications he made, and -much we have is damaged, broken, and partly effaced. In the abstract that -follows the reader must be prepared therefore for a considerable amount of -break, hiatus, and change of topic. Mr. Wendigee and I are collaborating in a -complete and annotated edition of the Cavor record, which we hope to publish, -together with a detailed account of the instruments employed, beginning with -the first volume in January next. That will be the full and scientific report, -of which this is only the popular transcript. But here we give at least -sufficient to complete the story I have told, and to give the broad outlines of -the state of that other world so near, so akin, and yet so dissimilar to our -own. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap23"></a>XXIII.<br /> -An Abstract of the Six Messages First Received from Mr. Cavor</h2> - -<p> -The two earlier messages of Mr. Cavor may very well be reserved for that larger -volume. They simply tell, with greater brevity and with a difference in several -details that is interesting, but not of any vital importance, the bare facts of -the making of the sphere and our departure from the world. Throughout, Cavor -speaks of me as a man who is dead, but with a curious change of temper as he -approaches our landing on the moon. “Poor Bedford,” he says of me, -and “this poor young man,” and he blames himself for inducing a -young man, “by no means well equipped for such adventures,” to -leave a planet “on which he was indisputably fitted to succeed” on -so precarious a mission. I think he underrates the part my energy and practical -capacity played in bringing about the realisation of his theoretical sphere. -“We arrived,” he says, with no more account of our passage through -space than if we had made a journey of common occurrence in a railway train. -</p> - -<p> -And then he becomes increasingly unfair to me. Unfair, indeed, to an extent I -should not have expected in a man trained in the search for truth. Looking back -over my previously written account of these things, I must insist that I have -been altogether juster to Cavor than he has been to me. I have extenuated -little and suppressed nothing. But his account is:— -</p> - -<p> -“It speedily became apparent that the entire strangeness of our -circumstances and surroundings—great loss of weight, attenuated but -highly oxygenated air, consequent exaggeration of the results of muscular -effort, rapid development of weird plants from obscure spores, lurid -sky—was exciting my companion unduly. On the moon his character seemed to -deteriorate. He became impulsive, rash, and quarrelsome. In a little while his -folly in devouring some gigantic vesicles and his consequent intoxication led -to our capture by the Selenites—before we had had the slightest -opportunity of properly observing their ways....” -</p> - -<p> -(He says, you observe, nothing of his own concession to these same -“vesicles.”) -</p> - -<p> -And he goes on from that point to say that “We came to a difficult -passage with them, and Bedford mistaking certain gestures of -theirs”—pretty gestures they were!—“gave way to a panic -violence. He ran amuck, killed three, and perforce I had to flee with him after -the outrage. Subsequently we fought with a number who endeavoured to bar our -way, and slew seven or eight more. It says much for the tolerance of these -beings that on my recapture I was not instantly slain. We made our way to the -exterior and separated in the crater of our arrival, to increase our chances of -recovering our sphere. But presently I came upon a body of Selenites, led by -two who were curiously different, even in form, from any of these we had seen -hitherto, with larger heads and smaller bodies, and much more elaborately -wrapped about. And after evading them for some time I fell into a crevasse, cut -my head rather badly, and displaced my patella, and, finding crawling very -painful, decided to surrender—if they would still permit me to do so. -This they did, and, perceiving my helpless condition, carried me with them -again into the moon. And of Bedford I have heard or seen nothing more, nor, so -far as I can gather, has any Selenite. Either the night overtook him in the -crater, or else, which is more probable, he found the sphere, and, desiring to -steal a march upon me, made off with it—only, I fear, to find it -uncontrollable, and to meet a more lingering fate in outer space.” -</p> - -<p> -And with that Cavor dismisses me and goes on to more interesting topics. I -dislike the idea of seeming to use my position as his editor to deflect his -story in my own interest, but I am obliged to protest here against the turn he -gives these occurrences. He said nothing about that gasping message on the -blood-stained paper in which he told, or attempted to tell, a very different -story. The dignified self-surrender is an altogether new view of the affair -that has come to him, I must insist, since he began to feel secure among the -lunar people; and as for the “stealing a march” conception, I am -quite willing to let the reader decide between us on what he has before him. I -know I am not a model man—I have made no pretence to be. But am I -<i>that?</i> -</p> - -<p> -However, that is the sum of my wrongs. From this point I can edit Cavor with an -untroubled mind, for he mentions me no more. -</p> - -<p> -It would seem the Selenites who had come upon him carried him to some point in -the interior down “a great shaft” by means of what he describes as -“a sort of balloon.” We gather from the rather confused passage in -which he describes this, and from a number of chance allusions and hints in -other and subsequent messages, that this “great shaft” is one of an -enormous system of artificial shafts that run, each from what is called a lunar -“crater,” downwards for very nearly a hundred miles towards the -central portion of our satellite. These shafts communicate by transverse -tunnels, they throw out abysmal caverns and expand into great globular places; -the whole of the moon’s substance for a hundred miles inward, indeed, is -a mere sponge of rock. “Partly,” says Cavor, “this sponginess -is natural, but very largely it is due to the enormous industry of the -Selenites in the past. The enormous circular mounds of the excavated rock and -earth it is that form these great circles about the tunnels known to earthly -astronomers (misled by a false analogy) as volcanoes.” -</p> - -<p> -It was down this shaft they took him, in this “sort of balloon” he -speaks of, at first into an inky blackness and then into a region of -continually increasing phosphorescence. Cavor’s despatches show him to be -curiously regardless of detail for a scientific man, but we gather that this -light was due to the streams and cascades of water—“no doubt -containing some phosphorescent organism”—that flowed ever more -abundantly downward towards the Central Sea. And as he descended, he says, -“The Selenites also became luminous.” And at last far below him he -saw, as it were, a lake of heatless fire, the waters of the Central Sea, -glowing and eddying in strange perturbation, “like luminous blue milk -that is just on the boil.” -</p> - -<p> -“This Lunar Sea,” says Cavor, in a later passage, “is not a -stagnant ocean; a solar tide sends it in a perpetual flow around the lunar -axis, and strange storms and boilings and rushings of its waters occur, and at -times cold winds and thunderings that ascend out of it into the busy ways of -the great ant-hill above. It is only when the water is in motion that it gives -out light; in its rare seasons of calm it is black. Commonly, when one sees it, -its waters rise and fall in an oily swell, and flakes and big rafts of shining, -bubbly foam drift with the sluggish, faintly glowing current. The Selenites -navigate its cavernous straits and lagoons in little shallow boats of a -canoe-like shape; and even before my journey to the galleries about the Grand -Lunar, who is Master of the Moon, I was permitted to make a brief excursion on -its waters. -</p> - -<p> -“The caverns and passages are naturally very tortuous. A large proportion -of these ways are known only to expert pilots among the fishermen, and not -infrequently Selenites are lost for ever in their labyrinths. In their remoter -recesses, I am told, strange creatures lurk, some of them terrible and -dangerous creatures that all the science of the moon has been unable to -exterminate. There is particularly the Rapha, an inextricable mass of clutching -tentacles that one hacks to pieces only to multiply; and the Tzee, a darting -creature that is never seen, so subtly and suddenly does it slay...” -</p> - -<p> -He gives us a gleam of description. -</p> - -<p> -“I was reminded on this excursion of what I have read of the Mammoth -Caves; if only I had had a yellow flambeau instead of the pervading blue light, -and a solid-looking boatman with an oar instead of a scuttle-faced Selenite -working an engine at the back of the canoe, I could have imagined I had -suddenly got back to earth. The rocks about us were very various, sometimes -black, sometimes pale blue and veined, and once they flashed and glittered as -though we had come into a mine of sapphires. And below one saw the ghostly -phosphorescent fishes flash and vanish in the hardly less phosphorescent deep. -Then, presently, a long ultra-marine vista down the turgid stream of one of the -channels of traffic, and a landing stage, and then, perhaps, a glimpse up the -enormous crowded shaft of one of the vertical ways. -</p> - -<p> -“In one great place heavy with glistening stalactites a number of boats -were fishing. We went alongside one of these and watched the long-armed -Selenites winding in a net. They were little, hunchbacked insects, with very -strong arms, short, bandy legs, and crinkled face-masks. As they pulled at it -that net seemed the heaviest thing I had come upon in the moon; it was loaded -with weights—no doubt of gold—and it took a long time to draw, for -in those waters the larger and more edible fish lurk deep. The fish in the net -came up like a blue moonrise—a blaze of darting, tossing blue. -</p> - -<p> -“Among their catch was a many-tentaculate, evil-eyed black thing, -ferociously active, whose appearance they greeted with shrieks and twitters, -and which with quick, nervous movements they hacked to pieces by means of -little hatchets. All its dissevered limbs continued to lash and writhe in a -vicious manner. Afterwards, when fever had hold of me, I dreamt again and again -of that bitter, furious creature rising so vigorous and active out of the -unknown sea. It was the most active and malignant thing of all the living -creatures I have yet seen in this world inside the moon.... -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -“The surface of this sea must be very nearly two hundred miles (if not -more) below the level of the moon’s exterior; all the cities of the moon -lie, I learnt, immediately above this Central Sea, in such cavernous spaces and -artificial galleries as I have described, and they communicate with the -exterior by enormous vertical shafts which open invariably in what are called -by earthly astronomers the ‘craters’ of the moon. The lid covering -one such aperture I had already seen during the wanderings that had preceded my -capture. -</p> - -<p> -“Upon the condition of the less central portion of the moon I have not -yet arrived at very precise knowledge. There is an enormous system of caverns -in which the mooncalves shelter during the night; and there are abattoirs and -the like—in one of these it was that I and Bedford fought with the -Selenite butchers—and I have since seen balloons laden with meat -descending out of the upper dark. I have as yet scarcely learnt as much of -these things as a Zulu in London would learn about the British corn supplies in -the same time. It is clear, however, that these vertical shafts and the -vegetation of the surface must play an essential role in ventilating and -keeping fresh the atmosphere of the moon. At one time, and particularly on my -first emergence from my prison, there was certainly a cold wind blowing -<i>down</i> the shaft, and later there was a kind of sirocco upward that -corresponded with my fever. For at the end of about three weeks I fell ill of -an indefinable sort of fever, and in spite of sleep and the quinine tabloids -that very fortunately I had brought in my pocket, I remained ill and fretting -miserably, almost to the time when I was taken into the presence of the Grand -Lunar, who is Master of the Moon. -</p> - -<p> -“I will not dilate on the wretchedness of my condition,” he -remarks, “during those days of ill-health.” And he goes on with -great amplitude with details I omit here. “My temperature,” he -concludes, “kept abnormally high for a long time, and I lost all desire -for food. I had stagnant waking intervals, and sleep tormented by dreams, and -at one phase I was, I remember, so weak as to be earth-sick and almost -hysterical. I longed almost intolerably for colour to break the everlasting -blue...” -</p> - -<p> -He reverts again presently to the topic of this sponge-caught lunar atmosphere. -I am told by astronomers and physicists that all he tells is in absolute -accordance with what was already known of the moon’s condition. Had -earthly astronomers had the courage and imagination to push home a bold -induction, says Mr. Wendigee, they might have foretold almost everything that -Cavor has to say of the general structure of the moon. They know now pretty -certainly that moon and earth are not so much satellite and primary as smaller -and greater sisters, made out of one mass, and consequently made of the same -material. And since the density of the moon is only three-fifths that of the -earth, there can be nothing for it but that she is hollowed out by a great -system of caverns. There was no necessity, said Sir Jabez Flap, F.R.S., that -most entertaining exponent of the facetious side of the stars, that we should -ever have gone to the moon to find out such easy inferences, and points the pun -with an allusion to Gruyère, but he certainly might have announced his -knowledge of the hollowness of the moon before. And if the moon is hollow, then -the apparent absence of air and water is, of course, quite easily explained. -The sea lies within at the bottom of the caverns, and the air travels through -the great sponge of galleries, in accordance with simple physical laws. The -caverns of the moon, on the whole, are very windy places. As the sunlight comes -round the moon the air in the outer galleries on that side is heated, its -pressure increases, some flows out on the exterior and mingles with the -evaporating air of the craters (where the plants remove its carbonic acid), -while the greater portion flows round through the galleries to replace the -shrinking air of the cooling side that the sunlight has left. There is, -therefore, a constant eastward breeze in the air of the outer galleries, and an -upflow during the lunar day up the shafts, complicated, of course, very greatly -by the varying shape of the galleries, and the ingenious contrivances of the -Selenite mind.... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap24"></a>XXIV.<br /> -The Natural History of the Selenites</h2> - -<p> -The messages of Cavor from the sixth up to the sixteenth are for the most part -so much broken, and they abound so in repetitions, that they scarcely form a -consecutive narrative. They will be given in full, of course, in the scientific -report, but here it will be far more convenient to continue simply to abstract -and quote as in the former chapter. We have subjected every word to a keen -critical scrutiny, and my own brief memories and impressions of lunar things -have been of inestimable help in interpreting what would otherwise have been -impenetrably dark. And, naturally, as living beings, our interest centres far -more upon the strange community of lunar insects in which he was living, it -would seem, as an honoured guest than upon the mere physical condition of their -world. -</p> - -<p> -I have already made it clear, I think, that the Selenites I saw resembled man -in maintaining the erect attitude, and in having four limbs, and I have -compared the general appearance of their heads and the jointing of their limbs -to that of insects. I have mentioned, too, the peculiar consequence of the -smaller gravitation of the moon on their fragile slightness. Cavor confirms me -upon all these points. He calls them “animals,” though of course -they fall under no division of the classification of earthly creatures, and he -points out “the insect type of anatomy had, fortunately for men, never -exceeded a relatively very small size on earth.” The largest terrestrial -insects, living or extinct, do not, as a matter of fact, measure six inches in -length; “but here, against the lesser gravitation of the moon, a creature -certainly as much an insect as vertebrate seems to have been able to attain to -human and ultra-human dimensions.” -</p> - -<p> -He does not mention the ant, but throughout his allusions the ant is -continually being brought before my mind, in its sleepless activity, in its -intelligence and social organisation, in its structure, and more particularly -in the fact that it displays, in addition to the two forms, the male and the -female form, that almost all other animals possess, a number of other sexless -creatures, workers, soldiers, and the like, differing from one another in -structure, character, power, and use, and yet all members of the same species. -For these Selenites, also, have a great variety of forms. Of course, they are -not only colossally greater in size than ants, but also, in Cavor’s -opinion at least, in intelligence, morality, and social wisdom are they -colossally greater than men. And instead of the four or five different forms of -ant that are found, there are almost innumerably different forms of Selenite. I -had endeavoured to indicate the very considerable difference observable in such -Selenites of the outer crust as I happened to encounter; the differences in -size and proportions were certainly as wide as the differences between the most -widely separated races of men. But such differences as I saw fade absolutely to -nothing in comparison with the huge distinctions of which Cavor tells. It would -seem the exterior Selenites I saw were, indeed, mostly engaged in kindred -occupations—mooncalf herds, butchers, fleshers, and the like. But within -the moon, practically unsuspected by me, there are, it seems, a number of other -sorts of Selenite, differing in size, differing in the relative size of part to -part, differing in power and appearance, and yet not different species of -creatures, but only different forms of one species, and retaining through all -their variations a certain common likeness that marks their specific unity. The -moon is, indeed, a sort of vast ant-hill, only, instead of there being only -four or five sorts of ant, there are many hundred different sorts of Selenite, -and almost every gradation between one sort and another. -</p> - -<p> -It would seem the discovery came upon Cavor very speedily. I infer rather than -learn from his narrative that he was captured by the mooncalf herds under the -direction of these other Selenites who “have larger brain cases (heads?) -and very much shorter legs.” Finding he would not walk even under the -goad, they carried him into darkness, crossed a narrow, plank-like bridge that -may have been the identical bridge I had refused, and put him down in something -that must have seemed at first to be some sort of lift. This was the -balloon—it had certainly been absolutely invisible to us in the -darkness—and what had seemed to me a mere plank-walking into the void was -really, no doubt, the passage of the gangway. In this he descended towards -constantly more luminous caverns of the moon. At first they descended in -silence—save for the twitterings of the Selenites—and then into a -stir of windy movement. In a little while the profound blackness had made his -eyes so sensitive that he began to see more and more of the things about him, -and at last the vague took shape. -</p> - -<p> -“Conceive an enormous cylindrical space,” says Cavor, in his -seventh message, “a quarter of a mile across, perhaps; very dimly lit at -first and then brighter, with big platforms twisting down its sides in a spiral -that vanishes at last below in a blue profundity; and lit even more -brightly—one could not tell how or why. Think of the well of the very -largest spiral staircase or lift-shaft that you have ever looked down, and -magnify that by a hundred. Imagine it at twilight seen through blue glass. -Imagine yourself looking down that; only imagine also that you feel -extraordinarily light, and have got rid of any giddy feeling you might have on -earth, and you will have the first conditions of my impression. Round this -enormous shaft imagine a broad gallery running in a much steeper spiral than -would be credible on earth, and forming a steep road protected from the gulf -only by a little parapet that vanishes at last in perspective a couple of miles -below. -</p> - -<p> -“Looking up, I saw the very fellow of the downward vision; it had, of -course, the effect of looking into a very steep cone. A wind was blowing down -the shaft, and far above I fancy I heard, growing fainter and fainter, the -bellowing of the mooncalves that were being driven down again from their -evening pasturage on the exterior. And up and down the spiral galleries were -scattered numerous moon people, pallid, faintly luminous beings, regarding our -appearance or busied on unknown errands. -</p> - -<p> -“Either I fancied it or a flake of snow came drifting down on the icy -breeze. And then, falling like a snowflake, a little figure, a little -man-insect, clinging to a parachute, drove down very swiftly towards the -central places of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -“The big-headed Selenite sitting beside me, seeing me move my head with -the gesture of one who saw, pointed with his trunk-like ‘hand’ and -indicated a sort of jetty coming into sight very far below: a little -landing-stage, as it were, hanging into the void. As it swept up towards us our -pace diminished very rapidly, and in a few moments, as it seemed, we were -abreast of it, and at rest. A mooring-rope was flung and grasped, and I found -myself pulled down to a level with a great crowd of Selenites, who jostled to -see me. -</p> - -<p> -“It was an incredible crowd. Suddenly and violently there was forced upon -my attention the vast amount of difference there is amongst these beings of the -moon. -</p> - -<p> -“Indeed, there seemed not two alike in all that jostling multitude. They -differed in shape, they differed in size, they rang all the horrible changes on -the theme of Selenite form! Some bulged and overhung, some ran about among the -feet of their fellows. All of them had a grotesque and disquieting suggestion -of an insect that has somehow contrived to mock humanity; but all seemed to -present an incredible exaggeration of some particular feature: one had a vast -right fore-limb, an enormous antennal arm, as it were; one seemed all leg, -poised, as it were, on stilts; another protruded the edge of his face mask into -a nose-like organ that made him startlingly human until one saw his -expressionless gaping mouth. The strange and (except for the want of mandibles -and palps) most insect-like head of the mooncalf-minders underwent, indeed, the -most incredible transformations: here it was broad and low, here high and -narrow; here its leathery brow was drawn out into horns and strange features; -here it was whiskered and divided, and there with a grotesquely human profile. -One distortion was particularly conspicuous. There were several brain cases -distended like bladders to a huge size, with the face mask reduced to quite -small proportions. There were several amazing forms, with heads reduced to -microscopic proportions and blobby bodies; and fantastic, flimsy things that -existed, it would seem, only as a basis for vast, trumpet-like protrusions of -the lower part of the mask. And oddest of all, as it seemed to me for the -moment, two or three of these weird inhabitants of a subterranean world, a -world sheltered by innumerable miles of rock from sun or rain, <i>carried -umbrellas</i> in their tentaculate hands—real terrestrial looking -umbrellas! And then I thought of the parachutist I had watched descend. -</p> - -<p> -“These moon people behaved exactly as a human crowd might have done in -similar circumstances: they jostled and thrust one another, they shoved one -another aside, they even clambered upon one another to get a glimpse of me. -Every moment they increased in numbers, and pressed more urgently upon the -discs of my ushers”—Cavor does not explain what he means by -this—“every moment fresh shapes emerged from the shadows and forced -themselves upon my astounded attention. And presently I was signed and helped -into a sort of litter, and lifted up on the shoulders of strong-armed bearers, -and so borne through the twilight over this seething multitude towards the -apartments that were provided for me in the moon. All about me were eyes, -faces, masks, a leathery noise like the rustling of beetle wings, and a great -bleating and cricket-like twittering of Selenite voices.” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -We gather he was taken to a “hexagonal apartment,” and there for a -space he was confined. Afterwards he was given a much more considerable -liberty; indeed, almost as much freedom as one has in a civilised town on -earth. And it would appear that the mysterious being who is the ruler and -master of the moon appointed two Selenites “with large heads” to -guard and study him, and to establish whatever mental communications were -possible with him. And, amazing and incredible as it may seem, these two -creatures, these fantastic men insects, these beings of other world, were -presently communicating with Cavor by means of terrestrial speech. -</p> - -<p> -Cavor speaks of them as Phi-oo and Tsi-puff. Phi-oo, he says, was about 5 feet -high; he had small slender legs about 18 inches long, and slight feet of the -common lunar pattern. On these balanced a little body, throbbing with the -pulsations of his heart. He had long, soft, many-jointed arms ending in a -tentacled grip, and his neck was many-jointed in the usual way, but -exceptionally short and thick. His head, says Cavor—apparently alluding -to some previous description that has gone astray in space—“is of -the common lunar type, but strangely modified. The mouth has the usual -expressionless gape, but it is unusually small and pointing downward, and the -mask is reduced to the size of a large flat nose-flap. On either side are the -little eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“The rest of the head is distended into a huge globe and the chitinous -leathery cuticle of the mooncalf herds thins out to a mere membrane, through -which the pulsating brain movements are distinctly visible. He is a creature, -indeed, with a tremendously hypertrophied brain, and with the rest of his -organism both relatively and absolutely dwarfed.” -</p> - -<p> -In another passage Cavor compares the back view of him to Atlas supporting the -world. Tsi-puff it seems was a very similar insect, but his “face” -was drawn out to a considerable length, and the brain hypertrophy being in -different regions, his head was not round but pear-shaped, with the stalk -downward. There were also litter-carriers, lopsided beings, with enormous -shoulders, very spidery ushers, and a squat foot attendant in Cavor’s -retinue. -</p> - -<p> -The manner in which Phi-oo and Tsi-puff attacked the problem of speech was -fairly obvious. They came into this “hexagonal cell” in which Cavor -was confined, and began imitating every sound he made, beginning with a cough. -He seems to have grasped their intention with great quickness, and to have -begun repeating words to them and pointing to indicate the application. The -procedure was probably always the same. Phi-oo would attend to Cavor for a -space, then point also and say the word he had heard. -</p> - -<p> -The first word he mastered was “man,” and the second -“Mooney”—which Cavor on the spur of the moment seems to have -used instead of “Selenite” for the moon race. As soon as Phi-oo was -assured of the meaning of a word he repeated it to Tsi-puff, who remembered it -infallibly. They mastered over one hundred English nouns at their first -session. -</p> - -<p> -Subsequently it seems they brought an artist with them to assist the work of -explanation with sketches and diagrams—Cavor’s drawings being -rather crude. “He was,” says Cavor, “a being with an active -arm and an arresting eye,” and he seemed to draw with incredible -swiftness. -</p> - -<p> -The eleventh message is undoubtedly only a fragment of a longer communication. -After some broken sentences, the record of which is unintelligible, it goes -on:— -</p> - -<p> -“But it will interest only linguists, and delay me too long, to give the -details of the series of intent parleys of which these were the beginning, and, -indeed, I very much doubt if I could give in anything like the proper order all -the twistings and turnings that we made in our pursuit of mutual comprehension. -Verbs were soon plain sailing—at least, such active verbs as I could -express by drawings; some adjectives were easy, but when it came to abstract -nouns, to prepositions, and the sort of hackneyed figures of speech, by means -of which so much is expressed on earth, it was like diving in cork-jackets. -Indeed, these difficulties were insurmountable until to the sixth lesson came a -fourth assistant, a being with a huge football-shaped head, whose <i>forte</i> -was clearly the pursuit of intricate analogy. He entered in a preoccupied -manner, stumbling against a stool, and the difficulties that arose had to be -presented to him with a certain amount of clamour and hitting and pricking -before they reached his apprehension. But once he was involved his penetration -was amazing. Whenever there came a need of thinking beyond Phi-oo’s by no -means limited scope, this prolate-headed person was in request, but he -invariably told the conclusion to Tsi-puff, in order that it might be -remembered; Tsi-puff was ever the arsenal for facts. And so we advanced again. -</p> - -<p> -“It seemed long and yet brief—a matter of days—before I was -positively talking with these insects of the moon. Of course, at first it was -an intercourse infinitely tedious and exasperating, but imperceptibly it has -grown to comprehension. And my patience has grown to meet its limitations, -Phi-oo it is who does all the talking. He does it with a vast amount of -meditative provisional ‘M’m—M’m’ and has caught -up one or two phrases, If I may say,’ ‘If you understand,’ -and beads all his speech with them. -</p> - -<p> -“Thus he would discourse. Imagine him explaining his artist. -</p> - -<p> -“‘M’m—M’m—he—if I may say—draw. -Eat little—drink little—draw. Love draw. No other thing. Hate all -who not draw like him. Angry. Hate all who draw like him better. Hate most -people. Hate all who not think all world for to draw. Angry. M’m. All -things mean nothing to him—only draw. He like you ... if you -understand.... New thing to draw. Ugly—striking. Eh? -</p> - -<p> -“‘He’—turning to Tsi-puff—‘love remember -words. Remember wonderful more than any. Think no, draw no—remember. -Say’—here he referred to his gifted assistant for a -word—‘histories—all things. He hear once—say -ever.’ -</p> - -<p> -“It is more wonderful to me than I dreamt that anything ever could be -again, to hear, in this perpetual obscurity, these extraordinary -creatures—for even familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect of -their appearance—continually piping a nearer approach to coherent earthly -speech—asking questions, giving answers. I feel that I am casting back to -the fable-hearing period of childhood again, when the ant and the grasshopper -talked together and the bee judged between them...” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -And while these linguistic exercises were going on Cavor seems to have -experienced a considerable relaxation of his confinement. “The first -dread and distrust our unfortunate conflict aroused is being,” he said, -“continually effaced by the deliberate rationality of all I do.... I am -now able to come and go as I please, or I am restricted only for my own good. -So it is I have been able to get at this apparatus, and, assisted by a happy -find among the material that is littered in this enormous store-cave, I have -contrived to despatch these messages. So far not the slightest attempt has been -made to interfere with me in this, though I have made it quite clear to Phi-oo -that I am signalling to the earth. -</p> - -<p> -“‘You talk to other?’ he asked, watching me. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Others,’ said I. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Others,’ he said. ‘Oh yes, Men?’ -</p> - -<p> -“And I went on transmitting.” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -Cavor was continually making corrections in his previous accounts of the -Selenites as fresh facts flowed upon him to modify his conclusions, and -accordingly one gives the quotations that follow with a certain amount of -reservation. They are quoted from the ninth, thirteenth, and sixteenth -messages, and, altogether vague and fragmentary as they are, they probably give -as complete a picture of the social life of this strange community as mankind -can now hope to have for many generations. -</p> - -<p> -“In the moon,” says Cavor, “every citizen knows his place. He -is born to that place, and the elaborate discipline of training and education -and surgery he undergoes fits him at last so completely to it that he has -neither ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it. ‘Why should -he?’ Phi-oo would ask. If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a -mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. They -check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage his -mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill. His brain grows, or at -least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and the rest of him only so -much as is necessary to sustain this essential part of him. At last, save for -rest and food, his one delight lies in the exercise and display of his faculty, -his one interest in its application, his sole society with other specialists in -his own line. His brain grows continually larger, at least so far as the -portions engaging in mathematics are concerned; they bulge ever larger and seem -to suck all life and vigour from the rest of his frame. His limbs shrivel, his -heart and digestive organs diminish, his insect face is hidden under its -bulging contours. His voice becomes a mere stridulation for the stating of -formulæ; he seems deaf to all but properly enunciated problems. The faculty of -laughter, save for the sudden discovery of some paradox, is lost to him; his -deepest emotion is the evolution of a novel computation. And so he attains his -end. -</p> - -<p> -“Or, again, a Selenite appointed to be a minder of mooncalves is from his -earliest years induced to think and live mooncalf, to find his pleasure in -mooncalf lore, his exercise in their tending and pursuit. He is trained to -become wiry and active, his eye is indurated to the tight wrappings, the -angular contours that constitute a ‘smart mooncalfishness.’ He -takes at last no interest in the deeper part of the moon; he regards all -Selenites not equally versed in mooncalves with indifference, derision, or -hostility. His thoughts are of mooncalf pastures, and his dialect an -accomplished mooncalf technique. So also he loves his work, and discharges in -perfect happiness the duty that justifies his being. And so it is with all -sorts and conditions of Selenites—each is a perfect unit in a world -machine.... -</p> - -<p> -“These beings with big heads, on whom the intellectual labours fall, form -a sort of aristocracy in this strange society, and at the head of them, -quintessential of the moon, is that marvellous gigantic ganglion the Grand -Lunar, into whose presence I am finally to come. The unlimited development of -the minds of the intellectual class is rendered possible by the absence of any -bony skull in the lunar anatomy, that strange box of bone that clamps about the -developing brain of man, imperiously insisting ‘thus far and no -farther’ to all his possibilities. They fall into three main classes -differing greatly in influence and respect. There are administrators, of whom -Phi-oo is one, Selenites of considerable initiative and versatility, -responsible each for a certain cubic content of the moon’s bulk; the -experts like the football-headed thinker, who are trained to perform certain -special operations; and the erudite, who are the repositories of all knowledge. -To the latter class belongs Tsi-puff, the first lunar professor of terrestrial -languages. With regard to these latter, it is a curious little thing to note -that the unlimited growth of the lunar brain has rendered unnecessary the -invention of all those mechanical aids to brain work which have distinguished -the career of man. There are no books, no records of any sort, no libraries or -inscriptions. All knowledge is stored in distended brains much as the -honey-ants of Texas store honey in their distended abdomens. The lunar Somerset -House and the lunar British Museum Library are collections of living brains... -</p> - -<p> -“The less specialised administrators, I note, do for the most part take a -very lively interest in me whenever they encounter me. They will come out of -the way and stare at me and ask questions to which Phi-oo will reply. I see -them going hither and thither with a retinue of bearers, attendants, shouters, -parachute-carriers, and so forth—queer groups to see. The experts for the -most part ignore me completely, even as they ignore each other, or notice me -only to begin a clamorous exhibition of their distinctive skill. The erudite -for the most part are rapt in an impervious and apoplectic complacency, from -which only a denial of their erudition can rouse them. Usually they are led -about by little watchers and attendants, and often there are small and -active-looking creatures, small females usually, that I am inclined to think -are a sort of wife to them; but some of the profounder scholars are altogether -too great for locomotion, and are carried from place to place in a sort of -sedan tub, wabbling jellies of knowledge that enlist my respectful -astonishment. I have just passed one in coming to this place where I am -permitted to amuse myself with these electrical toys, a vast, shaven, shaky -head, bald and thin-skinned, carried on his grotesque stretcher. In front and -behind came his bearers, and curious, almost trumpet-faced, news disseminators -shrieked his fame. -</p> - -<p> -“I have already mentioned the retinues that accompany most of the -intellectuals: ushers, bearers, valets, extraneous tentacles and muscles, as it -were, to replace the abortive physical powers of these hypertrophied minds. -Porters almost invariably accompany them. There are also extremely swift -messengers with spider-like legs and ‘hands’ for grasping -parachutes, and attendants with vocal organs that could well nigh wake the -dead. Apart from their controlling intelligence these subordinates are as inert -and helpless as umbrellas in a stand. They exist only in relation to the orders -they have to obey, the duties they have to perform. -</p> - -<p> -“The bulk of these insects, however, who go to and fro upon the spiral -ways, who fill the ascending balloons and drop past me clinging to flimsy -parachutes are, I gather, of the operative class. ‘Machine hands,’ -indeed, some of these are in actual nature—it is no figure of speech, the -single tentacle of the mooncalf herd is profoundly modified for clawing, -lifting, guiding, the rest of them no more than necessary subordinate -appendages to these important parts. Some, who I suppose deal with -bell-striking mechanisms, have enormously developed auditory organs; some whose -work lies in delicate chemical operations project a vast olfactory organ; -others again have flat feet for treadles with anchylosed joints; and -others—who I have been told are glassblowers—seem mere -lung-bellows. But every one of these common Selenites I have seen at work is -exquisitely adapted to the social need it meets. Fine work is done by -fined-down workers, amazingly dwarfed and neat. Some I could hold on the palm -of my hand. There is even a sort of turnspit Selenite, very common, whose duty -and only delight it is to apply the motive power for various small appliances. -And to rule over these things and order any erring tendency there might be in -some aberrant natures are the most muscular beings I have seen in the moon, a -sort of lunar police, who must have been trained from their earliest years to -give a perfect respect and obedience to the swollen heads. -</p> - -<p> -“The making of these various sorts of operative must be a very curious -and interesting process. I am very much in the dark about it, but quite -recently I came upon a number of young Selenites confined in jars from which -only the fore-limbs protruded, who were being compressed to become -machine-minders of a special sort. The extended ‘hand’ in this -highly developed system of technical education is stimulated by irritants and -nourished by injection, while the rest of the body is starved. Phi-oo, unless I -misunderstood him, explained that in the earlier stages these queer little -creatures are apt to display signs of suffering in their various cramped -situations, but they easily become indurated to their lot; and he took me on to -where a number of flexible-minded messengers were being drawn out and broken -in. It is quite unreasonable, I know, but such glimpses of the educational -methods of these beings affect me disagreeably. I hope, however, that may pass -off, and I may be able to see more of this aspect of their wonderful social -order. That wretched-looking hand-tentacle sticking out of its jar seemed to -have a sort of limp appeal for lost possibilities; it haunts me still, -although, of course it is really in the end a far more humane proceeding than -our earthly method of leaving children to grow into human beings, and then -making machines of them. -</p> - -<p> -“Quite recently, too—I think it was on the eleventh or twelfth -visit I made to this apparatus—I had a curious light upon the lives of -these operatives. I was being guided through a short cut hither, instead of -going down the spiral, and by the quays to the Central Sea. From the devious -windings of a long, dark gallery, we emerged into a vast, low cavern, pervaded -by an earthy smell, and as things go in this darkness, rather brightly lit. The -light came from a tumultuous growth of livid fungoid shapes—some indeed -singularly like our terrestrial mushrooms, but standing as high or higher than -a man. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Mooneys eat these?’ said I to Phi-oo. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Yes, food.’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘Goodness me!’ I cried; ‘what’s that?’ -</p> - -<p> -“My eye had just caught the figure of an exceptionally big and ungainly -Selenite lying motionless among the stems, face downward. We stopped. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Dead?’ I asked. (For as yet I have seen no dead in the -moon, and I have grown curious.) -</p> - -<p> -“‘<i>No!</i>’ exclaimed Phi-oo. -‘Him—worker—no work to do. Get little drink then—make -sleep—till we him want. What good him wake, eh? No want him walking -about.’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘There’s another!’ cried I. -</p> - -<p> -“And indeed all that huge extent of mushroom ground was, I found, -peppered with these prostrate figures sleeping under an opiate until the moon -had need of them. There were scores of them of all sorts, and we were able to -turn over some of them, and examine them more precisely than I had been able to -do previously. They breathed noisily at my doing so, but did not wake. One, I -remember very distinctly: he left a strong impression, I think, because some -trick of the light and of his attitude was strongly suggestive of a drawn-up -human figure. His fore-limbs were long, delicate tentacles—he was some -kind of refined manipulator—and the pose of his slumber suggested a -submissive suffering. No doubt it was a mistake for me to interpret his -expression in that way, but I did. And as Phi-oo rolled him over into the -darkness among the livid fleshiness again I felt a distinctly unpleasant -sensation, although as he rolled the insect in him was confessed. -</p> - -<p> -“It simply illustrates the unthinking way in which one acquires habits of -feeling. To drug the worker one does not want and toss him aside is surely far -better than to expel him from his factory to wander starving in the streets. In -every complicated social community there is necessarily a certain intermittency -of employment for all specialised labour, and in this way the trouble of an -‘unemployed’ problem is altogether anticipated. And yet, so -unreasonable are even scientifically trained minds, I still do not like the -memory of those prostrate forms amidst those quiet, luminous arcades of fleshy -growth, and I avoid that short cut in spite of the inconveniences of the -longer, more noisy, and more crowded alternative. -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -“My alternative route takes me round by a huge, shadowy cavern, very -crowded and clamorous, and here it is I see peering out of the hexagonal -openings of a sort of honeycomb wall, or parading a large open space behind, or -selecting the toys and amulets made to please them by the dainty-tentacled -jewellers who work in kennels below, the mothers of the moon world—the -queen bees, as it were, of the hive. They are noble-looking beings, -fantastically and sometimes quite beautifully adorned, with a proud carriage, -and, save for their mouths, almost microscopic heads. -</p> - -<p> -“Of the condition of the moon sexes, marrying and giving in marriage, and -of birth and so forth among the Selenites, I have as yet been able to learn -very little. With the steady progress of Phi-oo in English, however, my -ignorance will no doubt as steadily disappear. I am of opinion that, as with -the ants and bees, there is a large majority of the members in this community -of the neuter sex. Of course on earth in our cities there are now many who -never live that life of parentage which is the natural life of man. Here, as -with the ants, this thing has become a normal condition of the race, and the -whole of such replacement as is necessary falls upon this special and by no -means numerous class of matrons, the mothers of the moon-world, large and -stately beings beautifully fitted to bear the larval Selenite. Unless I -misunderstand an explanation of Phi-oo’s, they are absolutely incapable -of cherishing the young they bring into the moon; periods of foolish indulgence -alternate with moods of aggressive violence, and as soon as possible the little -creatures, who are quite soft and flabby and pale coloured, are transferred to -the charge of celibate females, women ‘workers’ as it were, who in -some cases possess brains of almost masculine dimensions.” -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -Just at this point, unhappily, this message broke off. Fragmentary and -tantalising as the matter constituting this chapter is, it does nevertheless -give a vague, broad impression of an altogether strange and wonderful -world—a world with which our own may have to reckon we know not how -speedily. This intermittent trickle of messages, this whispering of a record -needle in the stillness of the mountain slopes, is the first warning of such a -change in human conditions as mankind has scarcely imagined heretofore. In that -satellite of ours there are new elements, new appliances, traditions, an -overwhelming avalanche of new ideas, a strange race with whom we must -inevitably struggle for mastery—gold as common as iron or wood... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap25"></a>XXV.<br /> -The Grand Lunar</h2> - -<p> -The penultimate message describes, with occasionally elaborate detail, the -encounter between Cavor and the Grand Lunar, who is the ruler or master of the -moon. Cavor seems to have sent most of it without interference, but to have -been interrupted in the concluding portion. The second came after an interval -of a week. -</p> - -<p> -The first message begins: “At last I am able to resume this—” -it then becomes illegible for a space, and after a time resumed in -mid-sentence. -</p> - -<p> -The missing words of the following sentence are probably “the -crowd.” There follows quite clearly: “grew ever denser as we drew -near the palace of the Grand Lunar—if I may call a series of excavations -a palace. Everywhere faces stared at me—blank, chitinous gapes and masks, -eyes peering over tremendous olfactory developments, eyes beneath monstrous -forehead plates; and undergrowth of smaller creatures dodged and yelped, and -helmet faces poised on sinuous, long-jointed necks appeared craning over -shoulders and beneath armpits. Keeping a welcome space about me marched a -cordon of stolid, scuttle-headed guards, who had joined us on our leaving the -boat in which we had come along the channels of the Central Sea. The quick-eyed -artist with the little brain joined us also, and a thick bunch of lean -porter-insects swayed and struggled under the multitude of conveniences that -were considered essential to my state. I was carried in a litter during the -final stage of our journey. This litter was made of some very ductile metal -that looked dark to me, meshed and woven, and with bars of paler metal, and -about me as I advanced there grouped itself a long and complicated procession. -</p> - -<p> -“In front, after the manner of heralds, marched four trumpet-faced -creatures making a devastating bray; and then came squat, resolute-moving -ushers before and behind, and on either hand a galaxy of learned heads, a sort -of animated encyclopedia, who were, Phi-oo explained, to stand about the Grand -Lunar for purposes of reference. (Not a thing in lunar science, not a point of -view or method of thinking, that these wonderful beings did not carry in their -heads!) Followed guards and porters, and then Phi-oo’s shivering brain -borne also on a litter. Then came Tsi-puff in a slightly less important litter; -then myself on a litter of greater elegance than any other, and surrounded by -my food and drink attendants. More trumpeters came next, splitting the ear with -vehement outcries, and then several big brains, special correspondents one -might well call them, or historiographers, charged with the task of observing -and remembering every detail of this epoch-making interview. A company of -attendants, bearing and dragging banners and masses of scented fungus and -curious symbols, vanished in the darkness behind. The way was lined by ushers -and officers in caparisons that gleamed like steel, and beyond their line, so -far as my eyes could pierce the gloom, the heads of that enormous crowd -extended. -</p> - -<p> -“I will own that I am still by no means indurated to the peculiar effect -of the Selenite appearance, and to find myself, as it were, adrift on this -broad sea of excited entomology was by no means agreeable. Just for a space I -had something very like what I should imagine people mean when they speak of -the ‘horrors.’ It had come to me before in these lunar caverns, -when on occasion I have found myself weaponless and with an undefended back, -amidst a crowd of these Selenites, but never quite so vividly. It is, of -course, as absolutely irrational a feeling as one could well have, and I hope -gradually to subdue it. But just for a moment, as I swept forward into the -welter of the vast crowd, it was only by gripping my litter tightly and -summoning all my will-power that I succeeded in avoiding an outcry or some such -manifestation. It lasted perhaps three minutes; then I had myself in hand -again. -</p> - -<p> -“We ascended the spiral of a vertical way for some time, and then passed -through a series of huge halls dome-roofed and elaborately decorated. The -approach to the Grand Lunar was certainly contrived to give one a vivid -impression of his greatness. Each cavern one entered seemed greater and more -boldly arched than its predecessor. This effect of progressive size was -enhanced by a thin haze of faintly phosphorescent blue incense that thickened -as one advanced, and robbed even the nearer figures of clearness. I seemed to -advance continually to something larger, dimmer, and less material. -</p> - -<p> -“I must confess that all this multitude made me feel extremely shabby and -unworthy. I was unshaven and unkempt; I had brought no razor; I had a coarse -beard over my mouth. On earth I have always been inclined to despise any -attention to my person beyond a proper care for cleanliness; but under the -exceptional circumstances in which I found myself, representing, as I did, my -planet and my kind, and depending very largely upon the attractiveness of my -appearance for a proper reception, I could have given much for something a -little more artistic and dignified than the husks I wore. I had been so serene -in the belief that the moon was uninhabited as to overlook such precautions -altogether. As it was I was dressed in a flannel jacket, knickerbockers, and -golfing stockings, stained with every sort of dirt the moon offered, slippers -(of which the left heel was wanting), and a blanket, through a hole in which I -thrust my head. (These clothes, indeed, I still wear.) Sharp bristles are -anything but an improvement to my cast of features, and there was an unmended -tear at the knee of my knickerbockers that showed conspicuously as I squatted -in my litter; my right stocking, too, persisted in getting about my ankle. I am -fully alive to the injustice my appearance did humanity, and if by any -expedient I could have improvised something a little out of the way and -imposing I would have done so. But I could hit upon nothing. I did what I could -with my blanket—folding it somewhat after the fashion of a toga, and for -the rest I sat as upright as the swaying of my litter permitted. -</p> - -<p> -“Imagine the largest hall you have ever been in, imperfectly lit with -blue light and obscured by a grey-blue fog, surging with metallic or livid-grey -creatures of such a mad diversity as I have hinted. Imagine this hall to end in -an open archway beyond which is a still larger hall, and beyond this yet -another and still larger one, and so on. At the end of the vista, dimly seen, a -flight of steps, like the steps of Ara Coeli at Rome, ascend out of sight. -Higher and higher these steps appear to go as one draws nearer their base. But -at last I came under a huge archway and beheld the summit of these steps, and -upon it the Grand Lunar exalted on his throne. -</p> - -<p> -“He was seated in what was relatively a blaze of incandescent blue. This, -and the darkness about him gave him an effect of floating in a blue-black void. -He seemed a small, self-luminous cloud at first, brooding on his sombre throne; -his brain case must have measured many yards in diameter. For some reason that -I cannot fathom a number of blue search-lights radiated from behind the throne -on which he sat, and immediately encircling him was a halo. About him, and -little and indistinct in this glow, a number of body-servants sustained and -supported him, and overshadowed and standing in a huge semicircle beneath him -were his intellectual subordinates, his remembrancers and computators and -searchers and servants, and all the distinguished insects of the court of the -moon. Still lower stood ushers and messengers, and then all down the countless -steps of the throne were guards, and at the base, enormous, various, -indistinct, vanishing at last into an absolute black, a vast swaying multitude -of the minor dignitaries of the moon. Their feet made a perpetual scraping -whisper on the rocky floor, as their limbs moved with a rustling murmur. -</p> - -<p> -“As I entered the penultimate hall the music rose and expanded into an -imperial magnificence of sound, and the shrieks of the news-bearers died -away.... -</p> - -<p> -“I entered the last and greatest hall.... -</p> - -<p> -“My procession opened out like a fan. My ushers and guards went right and -left, and the three litters bearing myself and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff marched -across a shiny darkness of floor to the foot of the giant stairs. Then began a -vast throbbing hum, that mingled with the music. The two Selenites dismounted, -but I was bidden remain seated—I imagine as a special honour. The music -ceased, but not that humming, and by a simultaneous movement of ten thousand -respectful heads my attention was directed to the enhaloed supreme intelligence -that hovered above me. -</p> - -<p> -“At first as I peered into the radiating glow this quintessential brain -looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim, undulating -ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within. Then beneath its enormity and -just above the edge of the throne one saw with a start minute elfin eyes -peering out of the glow. No face, but eyes, as if they peered through holes. At -first I could see no more than these two staring little eyes, and then below I -distinguished the little dwarfed body and its insect-jointed limbs shrivelled -and white. The eyes stared down at me with a strange intensity, and the lower -part of the swollen globe was wrinkled. Ineffectual-looking little -hand-tentacles steadied this shape on the throne.... -</p> - -<p> -“It was great. It was pitiful. One forgot the hall and the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -“I ascended the staircase by jerks. It seemed to me that this darkly -glowing brain case above us spread over me, and took more and more of the whole -effect into itself as I drew nearer. The tiers of attendants and helpers -grouped about their master seemed to dwindle and fade into the night. I saw -that shadowy attendants were busy spraying that great brain with a cooling -spray, and patting and sustaining it. For my own part, I sat gripping my -swaying litter and staring at the Grand Lunar, unable to turn my gaze aside. -And at last, as I reached a little landing that was separated only by ten steps -or so from the supreme seat, the woven splendour of the music reached a climax -and ceased, and I was left naked, as it were, in that vastness, beneath the -still scrutiny of the Grand Lunar’s eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“He was scrutinising the first man he had ever seen.... -</p> - -<p> -“My eyes dropped at last from his greatness to the ant figures in the -blue mist about him, and then down the steps to the massed Selenites, still and -expectant in their thousands, packed on the floor below. Once again an -unreasonable horror reached out towards me.... And passed. -</p> - -<p> -“After the pause came the salutation. I was assisted from my litter, and -stood awkwardly while a number of curious and no doubt deeply symbolical -gestures were vicariously performed for me by two slender officials. The -encyclopaedic galaxy of the learned that had accompanied me to the entrance of -the last hall appeared two steps above me and left and right of me, in -readiness for the Grand Lunar’s need, and Phi-oo’s pale brain -placed itself about half-way up to the throne in such a position as to -communicate easily between us without turning his back on either the Grand -Lunar or myself. Tsi-puff took up a position behind him. Dexterous ushers -sidled sideways towards me, keeping a full face to the Presence. I seated -myself Turkish fashion, and Phi-oo and Tsi-puff also knelt down above me. There -came a pause. The eyes of the nearer court went from me to the Grand Lunar and -came back to me, and a hissing and piping of expectation passed across the -hidden multitudes below and ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“That humming ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“For the first and last time in my experience the moon was silent. -</p> - -<p> -“I became aware of a faint wheezy noise. The Grand Lunar was addressing -me. It was like the rubbing of a finger upon a pane of glass. -</p> - -<p> -“I watched him attentively for a time, and then glanced at the alert -Phi-oo. I felt amidst these slender beings ridiculously thick and fleshy and -solid; my head all jaw and black hair. My eyes went back to the Grand Lunar. He -had ceased; his attendants were busy, and his shining superficies was -glistening and running with cooling spray. -</p> - -<p> -“Phi-oo meditated through an interval. He consulted Tsi-puff. Then he -began piping his recognisable English—at first a little nervously, so -that he was not very clear. -</p> - -<p> -“‘M’m—the Grand Lunar—wished to say—wishes -to say—he gathers you are—m’m—men—that you are a -man from the planet earth. He wishes to say that he welcomes you—welcomes -you—and wishes to learn—learn, if I may use the word—the -state of your world, and the reason why you came to this.’ -</p> - -<p> -“He paused. I was about to reply when he resumed. He proceeded to remarks -of which the drift was not very clear, though I am inclined to think they were -intended to be complimentary. He told me that the earth was to the moon what -the sun is to the earth, and that the Selenites desired very greatly to learn -about the earth and men. He then told me no doubt in compliment also, the -relative magnitude and diameter of earth and moon, and the perpetual wonder and -speculation with which the Selenites had regarded our planet. I meditated with -downcast eyes, and decided to reply that men too had wondered what might lie in -the moon, and had judged it dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had -seen that day. The Grand Lunar, in token of recognition, caused his long blue -rays to rotate in a very confusing manner, and all about the great hall ran the -pipings and whisperings and rustlings of the report of what I had said. He then -proceeded to put to Phi-oo a number of inquiries which were easier to answer. -</p> - -<p> -“He understood, he explained, that we lived on the surface of the earth, -that our air and sea were outside the globe; the latter part, indeed, he -already knew from his astronomical specialists. He was very anxious to have -more detailed information of what he called this extraordinary state of -affairs, for from the solidity of the earth there had always been a disposition -to regard it as uninhabitable. He endeavoured first to ascertain the extremes -of temperature to which we earth beings were exposed, and he was deeply -interested by my descriptive treatment of clouds and rain. His imagination was -assisted by the fact that the lunar atmosphere in the outer galleries of the -night side is not infrequently very foggy. He seemed inclined to marvel that we -did not find the sunlight too intense for our eyes, and was interested in my -attempt to explain that the sky was tempered to a bluish colour through the -refraction of the air, though I doubt if he clearly understood that. I -explained how the iris of the human eyes can contract the pupil and save the -delicate internal structure from the excess of sunlight, and was allowed to -approach within a few feet of the Presence in order that this structure might -be seen. This led to a comparison of the lunar and terrestrial eyes. The former -is not only excessively sensitive to such light as men can see, but it can also -<i>see</i> heat, and every difference in temperature within the moon renders -objects visible to it. -</p> - -<p> -“The iris was quite a new organ to the Grand Lunar. For a time he amused -himself by flashing his rays into my face and watching my pupils contract. As a -consequence, I was dazzled and blinded for some little time.... -</p> - -<p> -“But in spite of that discomfort I found something reassuring by -insensible degrees in the rationality of this business of question and answer. -I could shut my eyes, think of my answer, and almost forget that the the Grand -Lunar has no face.... -</p> - -<p> -“When I had descended again to my proper place the Grand Lunar asked how -we sheltered ourselves from heat and storms, and I expounded to him the arts of -building and furnishing. Here we wandered into misunderstandings and -cross-purposes, due largely, I must admit, to the looseness of my expressions. -For a long time I had great difficulty in making him understand the nature of a -house. To him and his attendant Selenites it seemed, no doubt, the most -whimsical thing in the world that men should build houses when they might -descend into excavations, and an additional complication was introduced by the -attempt I made to explain that men had originally begun their homes in caves, -and that they were now taking their railways and many establishments beneath -the surface. Here I think a desire for intellectual completeness betrayed me. -There was also a considerable tangle due to an equally unwise attempt on my -part to explain about mines. Dismissing this topic at last in an incomplete -state, the Grand Lunar inquired what we did with the interior of our globe. -</p> - -<p> -“A tide of twittering and piping swept into the remotest corners of that -great assembly when it was at last made clear that we men know absolutely -nothing of the contents of the world upon which the immemorial generations of -our ancestors had been evolved. Three times had I to repeat that of all the -4000 miles of distance between the earth and its centre men knew only to the -depth of a mile, and that very vaguely. I understood the Grand Lunar to ask why -had I come to the moon seeing we had scarcely touched our own planet yet, but -he did not trouble me at that time to proceed to an explanation, being too -anxious to pursue the details of this mad inversion of all his ideas. -</p> - -<p> -“He reverted to the question of weather, and I tried to describe the -perpetually changing sky, and snow, and frost and hurricanes. ‘But when -the night comes,’ he asked, ‘is it not cold?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I told him it was colder than by day. -</p> - -<p> -“‘And does not your atmosphere freeze?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I told him not; that it was never cold enough for that, because our -nights were so short. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Not even liquefy?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I was about to say ‘No,’ but then it occurred to me that one -part at least of our atmosphere, the water vapour of it, does sometimes liquefy -and form dew, and sometimes freeze and form frost—a process perfectly -analogous to the freezing of all the external atmosphere of the moon during its -longer night. I made myself clear on this point, and from that the Grand Lunar -went on to speak with me of sleep. For the need of sleep that comes so -regularly every twenty-four hours to all things is part also of our earthly -inheritance. On the moon they rest only at rare intervals, and after -exceptional exertions. Then I tried to describe to him the soft splendours of a -summer night, and from that I passed to a description of those animals that -prowl by night and sleep by day. I told him of lions and tigers, and here it -seemed as though we had come to a deadlock. For, save in their waters, there -are no creatures in the moon not absolutely domestic and subject to his will, -and so it has been for immemorial years. They have monstrous water creatures, -but no evil beasts, and the idea of anything strong and large existing -‘outside’ in the night is very difficult for them....” -</p> - -<p> -[The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps twenty -words or more.] -</p> - -<p> -“He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange -superficiality and unreasonableness of (man) who lives on the mere surface of a -world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances of space, who cannot -even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon his kind, and yet who dares to -invade another planet. During this aside I sat thinking, and then at his desire -I told him of the different sorts of men. He searched me with questions. -‘And for all sorts of work you have the same sort of men. But who thinks? -Who governs?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I gave him an outline of the democratic method. -</p> - -<p> -“When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then -requested me to repeat my explanation conceiving something had miscarried. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Do they not do different things, then?’ said Phi-oo. -</p> - -<p> -“Some, I admitted, were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some -were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. ‘But <i>all</i> rule,’ -I said. -</p> - -<p> -“‘And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different -duties?’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘None that you can see,’ I said, ‘except perhaps, for -clothes. Their minds perhaps differ a little,’ I reflected. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Their minds must differ a great deal,’ said the Grand -Lunar, ‘or they would all want to do the same things.’ -</p> - -<p> -“In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his preconceptions, -I said that his surmise was right. ‘It was all hidden in the -brain,’ I said; but the difference was there. Perhaps if one could see -the minds and souls of men they would be as varied and unequal as the -Selenites. There were great men and small men, men who could reach out far and -wide, men who could go swiftly; noisy, trumpet-minded men, and men who could -remember without thinking....’” [The record is indistinct for three -words.] -</p> - -<p> -“He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statements. ‘But you -said all men rule?’ he pressed. -</p> - -<p> -“‘To a certain extent,’ I said, and made, I fear, a denser -fog with my explanation. -</p> - -<p> -“He reached out to a salient fact. ‘Do you mean,’ asked, -‘that there is no Grand Earthly?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I -explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth had -usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large and -influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged, the -Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At which the Grand -Lunar was even more amazed. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?’ he -asked; and I explained to him the way we helped our limited [A word omitted -here, probably “brains.”] with libraries of books. I explained to -him how our science was growing by the united labours of innumerable little -men, and on that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered -much in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the moon. -Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites grew and -changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and remained -brutes—equipped. He said this...” [Here there is a short piece of -the record indistinct.] -</p> - -<p> -“He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours, and -I described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not understand -that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but when he did he was -clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing, that the Selenites use -years to count by, just as we do on earth, though I can make nothing of their -numeral system. That, however, does not matter, because Phi-oo understands -ours.) From that I went on to tell him that mankind had dwelt in cities only -for nine or ten thousand years, and that we were still not united in one -brotherhood, but under many different forms of government. This astonished the -Grand Lunar very much, when it was made clear to him. At first he thought we -referred merely to administrative areas. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what -order will some day be,’ I said, and so I came to tell him....” -[At this point a length of record that probably represents thirty or forty -words is totally illegible.] -</p> - -<p> -“The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging to -the inconvenience of diverse tongues. ‘They want to communicate, and yet -not to communicate,’ he said, and then for a long time he questioned me -closely concerning war. -</p> - -<p> -“He was at first perplexed and incredulous. ‘You mean to -say,’ he asked, seeking confirmation, ‘that you run about over the -surface of your world—this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to -scrape—killing one another for beasts to eat?’ -</p> - -<p> -“I told him that was perfectly correct. -</p> - -<p> -“He asked for particulars to assist his imagination. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?’ -he asked, and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress -him almost as much as the killing. ‘Tell me more,’ said the Grand -Lunar; ‘make me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.’ -</p> - -<p> -“And so, for a space, though something loath, I told him the story of -earthly War. -</p> - -<p> -“I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and -ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an idea of -manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of sieges and assaults, -of starvation and hardship in trenches, and of sentinels freezing in the snow. -I told him of routs and surprises, and desperate last stands and faint hopes, -and the pitiless pursuit of fugitives and the dead upon the field. I told, too, -of the past, of invasions and massacres, of the Huns and Tartars, and the wars -of Mahomet and the Caliphs, and of the Crusades. And as I went on, and Phi-oo -translated, the Selenites cooed and murmured in a steadily intensified emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“I told them an ironclad could fire a shot of a ton twelve miles, and go -through 20 feet of iron—and how we could steer torpedoes under water. I -went on to describe a Maxim gun in action, and what I could imagine of the -Battle of Colenso. The Grand Lunar was so incredulous that he interrupted the -translation of what I had said in order to have my verification of my account. -They particularly doubted my description of the men cheering and rejoicing as -they went into battle. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But surely they do not like it!’ translated Phi-oo. -</p> - -<p> -“I assured them men of my race considered battle the most glorious -experience of life, at which the whole assembly was stricken with amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“‘But what good is this war?’ asked the Grand Lunar, sticking -to his theme. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Oh! as for <i>good</i>!’ said I; ‘it thins the -population!’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘But why should there be a need—?’ -</p> - -<p> -“There came a pause, the cooling sprays impinged upon his brow, and then -he spoke again.” -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -At this point a series of undulations that have been apparent as a perplexing -complication as far back as Cavor’s description of the silence that fell -before the first speaking of the Grand Lunar become confusingly predominant in -the record. These undulations are evidently the result of radiations proceeding -from a lunar source, and their persistent approximation to the alternating -signals of Cavor is curiously suggestive of some operator deliberately seeking -to mix them in with his message and render it illegible. At first they are -small and regular, so that with a little care and the loss of very few words we -have been able to disentangle Cavor’s message; then they become broad and -larger, then suddenly they are irregular, with an irregularity that gives the -effect at last of some one scribbling through a line of writing. For a long -time nothing can be made of this madly zigzagging trace; then quite abruptly -the interruption ceases, leaves a few words clear, and then resumes and -continues for the rest of the message, completely obliterating whatever Cavor -was attempting to transmit. Why, if this is indeed a deliberate intervention, -the Selenites should have preferred to let Cavor go on transmitting his message -in happy ignorance of their obliteration of its record, when it was clearly -quite in their power and much more easy and convenient for them to stop his -proceedings at any time, is a problem to which I can contribute nothing. The -thing seems to have happened so, and that is all I can say. This last rag of -his description of the Grand Lunar begins in mid-sentence. -</p> - -<p> -“...interrogated me very closely upon my secret. I was able in a little -while to get to an understanding with them, and at last to elucidate what has -been a puzzle to me ever since I realised the vastness of their science, -namely, how it is they themselves have never discovered Cavorite.’ I find -they know of it as a theoretical substance, but they have always regarded it as -a practical impossibility, because for some reason there is no helium in the -moon, and helium...” -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -Across the last letters of helium slashes the resumption of that obliterating -trace. Note that word “secret,” for on that, and that alone, I base -my interpretation of the message that follows, the last message, as both Mr. -Wendigee and myself now believe it to be, that he is ever likely to send us. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="chap26"></a>XXVI.<br /> -The Last Message Cavor sent to the Earth</h2> - -<p> -On this unsatisfactory manner the penultimate message of Cavor dies out. One -seems to see him away there in the blue obscurity amidst his apparatus intently -signalling us to the last, all unaware of the curtain of confusion that drops -between us; all unaware, too, of the final dangers that even then must have -been creeping upon him. His disastrous want of vulgar common sense had utterly -betrayed him. He had talked of war, he had talked of all the strength and -irrational violence of men, of their insatiable aggressions, their tireless -futility of conflict. He had filled the whole moon world with this impression -of our race, and then I think it is plain that he made the most fatal admission -that upon himself alone hung the possibility—at least for a long -time—of any further men reaching the moon. The line the cold, inhuman -reason of the moon would take seems plain enough to me, and a suspicion of it, -and then perhaps some sudden sharp realisation of it, must have come to him. -One imagines him about the moon with the remorse of this fatal indiscretion -growing in his mind. During a certain time I am inclined to guess the Grand -Lunar was deliberating the new situation, and for all that time Cavor may have -gone as free as ever he had gone. But obstacles of some sort prevented his -getting to his electromagnetic apparatus again after that message I have just -given. For some days we received nothing. Perhaps he was having fresh -audiences, and trying to evade his previous admissions. Who can hope to guess? -</p> - -<p> -And then suddenly, like a cry in the night, like a cry that is followed by a -stillness, came the last message. It is the briefest fragment, the broken -beginnings of two sentences. -</p> - -<p> -The first was: “I was mad to let the Grand Lunar know—” -</p> - -<p> -There was an interval of perhaps a minute. One imagines some interruption from -without. A departure from the instrument—a dreadful hesitation among the -looming masses of apparatus in that dim, blue-lit cavern—a sudden rush -back to it, full of a resolve that came too late. Then, as if it were hastily -transmitted came: “Cavorite made as follows: take—” -</p> - -<p> -There followed one word, a quite unmeaning word as it stands: -“uless.” -</p> - -<p> -And that is all. -</p> - -<p> -It may be he made a hasty attempt to spell “useless” when his fate -was close upon him. Whatever it was that was happening about that apparatus we -cannot tell. Whatever it was we shall never, I know, receive another message -from the moon. For my own part a vivid dream has come to my help, and I see, -almost as plainly as though I had seen it in actual fact, a blue-lit shadowy -dishevelled Cavor struggling in the grip of these insect Selenites, struggling -ever more desperately and hopelessly as they press upon him, shouting, -expostulating, perhaps even at last fighting, and being forced backwards step -by step out of all speech or sign of his fellows, for evermore into the -Unknown—into the dark, into that silence that has no end.... -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON ***</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 1013-h.htm or 1013-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/1/1013/</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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