Chapter 8 - Friday Night
The most extraordinary thing to my mind, of all the strange and wonderful things that
happened upon that Friday, was the dovetailing of the commonplace habits of our social
order with the first beginnings of the series of events that was to topple that social
order headlong. If on Friday night you had taken a pair of compasses and drawn a circle
with a radius of five miles round the Woking sand pits, I doubt if you would have had one
human being outside it, unless it were some relation of Stent or of the three or four
cyclists or London people lying dead on the common, whose emotions or habits were at all
affected by the new-comers. Many people had heard of the cylinder, of course, and talked
about it in their leisure, but it certainly did not make the sensation that an ultimatum
to Germany would have done.
In London that night poor Henderson's telegram describing the gradual unscrewing of the
shot was judged to be a canard, and his evening paper, after wiring for authentication
from him and receiving no reply--the man was killed--decided not to print a special
edition.
Even within the five-mile circle the great majority of people were inert. I have already
described the behaviour of the men and women to whom I spoke. All over the district people
were dining and supping; working men were gardening after the labours of the day, children
were being put to bed, young people were wandering through the lanes love-making, stu-
dents sat over their books.
Maybe there was a murmur in the village streets, a novel and dominant topic in the
public-houses, and here and there a messenger, or even an eye-witness of the later
occurrences, caused a whirl of excitement, a shouting, and a running to and fro; but for
the most part the daily routine of working, eating, drinking, sleeping, went on as it had
done for count- less years--as though no planet Mars existed in the sky. Even at Woking
station and Horsell and Chobham that was the case.
In Woking junction, until a late hour, trains were stopping and going on, others were
shunting on the sidings, passengers were alighting and waiting, and everything was
proceeding in the most ordinary way. A boy from the town, trenching on Smith's monopoly,
was selling papers with the afternoon's news. The ringing impact of trucks, the sharp
whistle of the engines from the junction, mingled with their shouts of "Men from
Mars!" Excited men came into the station about nine o'clock with incredible tidings,
and caused no more disturbance than drunkards might have done. People rattling Londonwards
peered into the darkness outside the carriage windows, and saw only a rare, flickering,
vanishing spark dance up from the direction of Horsell, a red glow and a thin veil of
smoke driving across the stars, and thought that nothing more serious than a heath fire
was happening. It was only round the edge of the common that any disturbance was
perceptible. There were half a dozen villas burning on the Woking border. There were
lights in all the houses on the common side of the three villages, and the people there
kept awake till dawn.
A curious crowd lingered restlessly, people coming and going but the crowd remaining, both
on the Chobham and Horsell bridges. One or two adventurous souls, it was after- wards
found, went into the darkness and crawled quite near the Martians; but they never
returned, for now and again a light-ray, like the beam of a warship's searchlight swept
the common, and the Heat-Ray was ready to follow. Save for such, that big area of common
was silent and desolate, and the charred bodies lay about on it all night under the stars,
and all the next day. A noise of hammering from the pit was heard by many people.
So you have the state of things on Friday night. In the centre, sticking into the skin of
our old planet Earth like a poisoned dart, was this cylinder. But the poison was scarcely
working yet. Around it was a patch of silent common, smouldering in places, and with a few
dark, dimly seen objects lying in contorted attitudes here and there. Here and there was a
burning bush or tree. Beyond was a fringe of excitement, and farther than that fringe the
inflammation had not crept as yet. In the rest of the world the stream of life still
flowed as it had flowed for immemorial years. The fever of war that would presently clog
vein and artery, deaden nerve and destroy brain, had still to develop.
All night long the Martians were hammering and stirring, sleepless, indefatigable, at work
upon the machines they were making ready, and ever and again a puff of greenish- white
smoke whirled up to the starlit sky.
About eleven a company of soldiers came through Horsell, and deployed along the edge of
the common to form a cordon. Later a second company marched through Chobham to deploy on
the north side of the common. Several officers from the Inkerman barracks had been on the
common earlier in the day, and one, Major Eden, was reported to be missing. The colonel of
the regiment came to the Chobham bridge and was busy questioning the crowd at midnight.
The military authorities were certainly alive to the seriousness of the busi- ness. About
eleven, the next morning's papers were able to say, a squadron of hussars, two Maxims, and
about four hundred men of the Cardigan regiment started from Aldershot.
A few seconds after midnight the crowd in the Chertsey road, Woking, saw a star fall from
heaven into the pine woods to the northwest. It had a greenish colour, and caused a silent
brightness like summer lightning. This was the second cylinder.