Lost Men In The Moon

: The First 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!