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- Герберт Уеллс
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- Война миров
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- Стр. 38/99
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But
they
were
in
no
hurry
.
Cylinder
followed
cylinder
on
its
interplanetary
flight
;
every
twenty-four
hours
brought
them
reinforcement
.
And
meanwhile
the
military
and
naval
authorities
,
now
fully
alive
to
the
tremendous
power
of
their
antagonists
,
worked
with
furious
energy
.
Every
minute
a
fresh
gun
came
into
position
until
,
before
twilight
,
every
copse
,
every
row
of
suburban
villas
on
the
hilly
slopes
about
Kingston
and
Richmond
,
masked
an
expectant
black
muzzle
.
And
through
the
charred
and
desolated
area
--
perhaps
twenty
square
miles
altogether
--
that
encircled
the
Martian
encampment
on
Horsell
Common
,
through
charred
and
ruined
villages
among
the
green
trees
,
through
the
blackened
and
smoking
arcades
that
had
been
but
a
day
ago
pine
spinneys
,
crawled
the
devoted
scouts
with
the
heliographs
that
were
presently
to
warn
the
gunners
of
the
Martian
approach
.
But
the
Martians
now
understood
our
command
of
artillery
and
the
danger
of
human
proximity
,
and
not
a
man
ventured
within
a
mile
of
either
cylinder
,
save
at
the
price
of
his
life
.
It
would
seem
that
these
giants
spent
the
earlier
part
of
the
afternoon
in
going
to
and
fro
,
transferring
everything
from
the
second
and
third
cylinders
--
the
second
in
Addlestone
Golf
Links
and
the
third
at
Pyrford
--
to
their
original
pit
on
Horsell
Common
.
Over
that
,
above
the
blackened
heather
and
ruined
buildings
that
stretched
far
and
wide
,
stood
one
as
sentinel
,
while
the
rest
abandoned
their
vast
fighting-machines
and
descended
into
the
pit
.
They
were
hard
at
work
there
far
into
the
night
,
and
the
towering
pillar
of
dense
green
smoke
that
rose
therefrom
could
be
seen
from
the
hills
about
Merrow
,
and
even
,
it
is
said
,
from
Banstead
and
Epsom
Downs
.
And
while
the
Martians
behind
me
were
thus
preparing
for
their
next
sally
,
and
in
front
of
me
Humanity
gathered
for
the
battle
,
I
made
my
way
with
infinite
pains
and
labour
from
the
fire
and
smoke
of
burning
Weybridge
towards
London
.
I
saw
an
abandoned
boat
,
very
small
and
remote
,
drifting
down-stream
;
and
throwing
off
the
most
of
my
sodden
clothes
,
I
went
after
it
,
gained
it
,
and
so
escaped
out
of
that
destruction
.
There
were
no
oars
in
the
boat
,
but
I
contrived
to
paddle
,
as
well
as
my
parboiled
hands
would
allow
,
down
the
river
towards
Halliford
and
Walton
,
going
very
tediously
and
continually
looking
behind
me
,
as
you
may
well
understand
.
I
followed
the
river
,
because
I
considered
that
the
water
gave
me
my
best
chance
of
escape
should
these
giants
return
.
The
hot
water
from
the
Martian
's
overthrow
drifted
downstream
with
me
,
so
that
for
the
best
part
of
a
mile
I
could
see
little
of
either
bank
.
Once
,
however
,
I
made
out
a
string
of
black
figures
hurrying
across
the
meadows
from
the
direction
of
Weybridge
.
Halliford
,
it
seemed
,
was
deserted
,
and
several
of
the
houses
facing
the
river
were
on
fire
.
It
was
strange
to
see
the
place
quite
tranquil
,
quite
desolate
under
the
hot
blue
sky
,
with
the
smoke
and
little
threads
of
flame
going
straight
up
into
the
heat
of
the
afternoon
.
Never
before
had
I
seen
houses
burning
without
the
accompaniment
of
an
obstructive
crowd
.
A
little
farther
on
the
dry
reeds
up
the
bank
were
smoking
and
glowing
,
and
a
line
of
fire
inland
was
marching
steadily
across
a
late
field
of
hay
.
For
a
long
time
I
drifted
,
so
painful
and
weary
was
I
after
the
violence
I
had
been
through
,
and
so
intense
the
heat
upon
the
water
.
Then
my
fears
got
the
better
of
me
again
,
and
I
resumed
my
paddling
.
The
sun
scorched
my
bare
back
.
At
last
,
as
the
bridge
at
Walton
was
coming
into
sight
round
the
bend
,
my
fever
and
faintness
overcame
my
fears
,
and
I
landed
on
the
Middlesex
bank
and
lay
down
,
deadly
sick
,
amid
the
long
grass
.
I
suppose
the
time
was
then
about
four
or
five
o'clock
.
I
got
up
presently
,
walked
perhaps
half
a
mile
without
meeting
a
soul
,
and
then
lay
down
again
in
the
shadow
of
a
hedge
.
I
seem
to
remember
talking
,
wanderingly
,
to
myself
during
that
last
spurt
.
I
was
also
very
thirsty
,
and
bitterly
regretful
I
had
drunk
no
more
water
.
It
is
a
curious
thing
that
I
felt
angry
with
my
wife
;
I
can
not
account
for
it
,
but
my
impotent
desire
to
reach
Leatherhead
worried
me
excessively
.
I
do
not
clearly
remember
the
arrival
of
the
curate
,
so
that
probably
I
dozed
.
I
became
aware
of
him
as
a
seated
figure
in
soot-smudged
shirt
sleeves
,
and
with
his
upturned
,
clean-shaven
face
staring
at
a
faint
flickering
that
danced
over
the
sky
.
The
sky
was
what
is
called
a
mackerel
sky
--
rows
and
rows
of
faint
down-plumes
of
cloud
,
just
tinted
with
the
midsummer
sunset
.
I
sat
up
,
and
at
the
rustle
of
my
motion
he
looked
at
me
quickly
.
"
Have
you
any
water
?
"
I
asked
abruptly
.
