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 have
troubled 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
"Henderson," he called, "you saw that shooting star last
"Well?" said Henderson.
"It's out on Horsell Common now."
"Good Lord!" said Henderson. "Fallen meteorite! That's
"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.