The Falling Star

Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it, and taken it for an ordinary falling star. Albin described it as leaving a greenish streak behind it that glowed for some seconds. Denning, our greatest authority on meteorites, stated that the height of its first appearance was about ninety or one hundred miles. It seemed to him that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him. I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; and although my French windows face towards Ottershaw and the blind was up (for I loved in those days to look up at the night sky), I saw nothing of it. Yet this strangest of all things that ever came to earth from outer space must have fallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I only looked up as

it passed. Some of those who saw its flight say it travelled with a hissing sound. I myself heard nothing of that. Many people in Berkshire, Surrey, and Middlesex must have seen the fall of it, and, at most, have thought that another meteorite had descended. No one seems to havet roubled to look for the fallen mass that night.But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen the shooting star and who was persuaded that a meteorite lay somewhere on the

common between Horsell, Ottershaw, and Woking, rose early with the

idea of finding it. Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not far from the

sand pits. An enormous hole had been made by the impact of the

projectile, and the sand and gravel had been flung violently in every

direction over the heath, forming heaps visible a mile and a half away.

The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose against the

dawn. The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst the

scattered splinters of a fir tree it had shivered to fragments in its

descent. The uncovered part had the appearance of a huge cylinder,

caked over and its outline softened by a thick scaly dun-coloured

incrustation. It had a diameter of about thirty yards. He approached

the mass, surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since most

meteorites are rounded more or less completely. It was, however, still so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near approach. A

stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to the unequal cooling of its

surface; for at that time it had not occurred to him that it might be

hollow.

He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the Thing had made

for itself, staring at its strange appearance, astonished chiefly at its

unusual shape and colour, and dimly perceiving even then some

evidence of design in its arrival. The early morning was wonderfully

still, and the sun, just clearing the pine trees towards Weybridge, was

already warm. He did not remember hearing any birds that morning,

there was certainly no breeze stirring, and the only sounds were the faint

movements from within the cindery cylinder. He was all alone on the

common.

Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the grey clinker,

the ashy incrustation that covered the meteorite, was falling off the

circular edge of the end. It was dropping off in flakes and raining down

upon the sand. A large piece suddenly came off and fell with a sharp

noise that brought his heart into his mouth.

For a minute he scarcely realised what this meant, and, although the

heat was excessive, he clambered down into the pit close to the bulk to

see the Thing more clearly. He fancied even then that the cooling of the

body might account for this, but what disturbed that idea was the fact

that the ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder.

And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circular top of the

cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such a gradual movement that

he discovered it only through noticing that a black mark that had been

near him five minutes ago was now at the other side of the

circumference. Even then he scarcely understood what this indicated,

until he heard a muffled grating sound and saw the black mark jerk

forward an inch or so. Then the thing came upon him in a flash. The cylinder was artificial—hollow—with an end that screwed out!

Something within the cylinder was unscrewing the top!

"Good heavens!" said Ogilvy. "There's a man in it—men in it! Half

roasted to death! Trying to escape!"

At once, with a quick mental leap, he linked the Thing with the flash

upon Mars.

The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to him that he

forgot the heat and went forward to the cylinder to help turn. But

luckily the dull radiation arrested him before he could burn his hands on

the still-glowing metal. At that he stood irresolute for a moment, then

turned, scrambled out of the pit, and set off running wildly into Woking.

The time then must have been somewhere about six o'clock. He met a

waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he told and his

appearance were so wild—his hat had fallen off in the pit—that the man

simply drove on. He was equally unsuccessful with the potman who was

just unlocking the doors of the public-house by Horsell Bridge. The

fellow thought he was a lunatic at large and made an unsuccessful

attempt to shut him into the taproom. That sobered him a little; and

when he saw Henderson, the London journalist, in his garden, he called

over the palings and made himself understood.

"Henderson," he called, "you saw that shooting star last night?"

"Well?" said Henderson.

"It's out on Horsell Common now."

"Good Lord!" said Henderson. "Fallen meteorite! That's good."

"But it's something more than a meteorite. It's a cylinder—an

artificial cylinder, man! And there's something inside."

Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand.

"What's that?" he said. He was deaf in one ear.

Ogilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was a minute or so

taking it in. Then he dropped his spade, snatched up his jacket, and

came out into the road. The two men hurried back at once to the common, and found the cylinder still lying in the same position. But

now the sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal

showed between the top and the body of the cylinder. Air was either

entering or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound.

They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a stick, and,

meeting with no response, they both concluded the man or men inside

must be insensible or dead.

Of course the two were quite unable to do anything. They shouted

consolation and promises, and went off back to the town again to get

help. One can imagine them, covered with sand, excited and

disordered, running up the little street in the bright sunlight just as the

shop folks were taking down their shutters and people were opening

their bedroom windows. Henderson went into the railway station at

once, in order to telegraph the news to London. The newspaper articles

had prepared men's minds for the reception of the idea.

By eight o'clock a number of boys and unemployed men had already

started for the common to see the "dead men from Mars." That was the

form the story took. I heard of it first from my newspaper boy about a

quarter to nine when I went out to get my Daily Chronicle. I was

naturally startled, and lost no time in going out and across the

Ottershaw bridge to the sand pits.