The First Men in the Moon by H. Wells (smart ebook reader TXT) 📗

ledge, and extended a hand. i could not see Cavor, but i could hear the rustle of his movements as he crouched to spring. Then whack and he was hanging to my arm — and no heavier than a kitten! i lugged him up until he had a hand on my ledge, and could release me.

‘Confound it!’ I said, ‘any one could be a mountaineer on the moon;’ and so set myself in earnest to the climbing. For a few minutes i clambered steadily, and then i looked up again. The cleft opened out steadily, and the light was brighter. Only——

It was not daylight after all!

In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could have beaten my head against the rocks with disappointment. For I beheld simply an irregularly sloping open space, and all over its slanting floor stood a forest of little club-shaped fungi, each shining gloriously with that pinkish silvery light. For a moment I stared at their soft radiance, then sprang forward and upward among them. I plucked up half-a-dozen and flung them against the rocks, and then sat down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor’s ruddy face came into view.

‘It’s phosphorescence again!’ I said. ‘No need to hurry. Sit down and make yourself at home.’ And as he spluttered over our disappointment, I began to lob more of these growths into the cleft.

‘I thought it was daylight,’ he said.

‘Daylight!’ cried I. ‘Daybreak, sunset, clouds, and windy skies! Shall we ever see such things again?’

As I spoke, a little picture of our world seemed to rise before me, bright and little and clear, like the background of some old Italian picture. ‘The sky that changes, and the sea that changes, and the hills and the green trees and the towns and cities shining in the sun.

Think of a wet roof at sunset, Cavor! Think of the windows of a westward house!’

He made no answer.

‘Here we are burrowing in this beastly world that isn’t a world, with its inky ocean hidden in some abominable blackness below, and outside that torrid day and that death stillness of night. And all those things that are chasing us now, beastly men of leather — insect men, that come out of a nightmare! After all, they’re right! What business have we here smashing them and disturbing their world? For all we know the whole planet is up and after us already. In a minute we may hear them whimpering, and their gongs going. What are we to do? Where are we to go? Here we are as comfortable as snakes from Jamrach’s* loose in a Surbiton villa!’

‘It was your fault,’ said Cavor.

‘My fault!’ I shouted. ‘Good Lord!’

‘I had an idea!’

‘Curse your ideas!’

‘If we had refused to budge——’

‘Under these goads?’

‘Yes. They would have carried us!’

‘Over that bridge?’

‘Yes. They must have carried us from outside.’

‘I’d rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling.’

‘Good Heavens!’

I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something that struck me even then.

‘Cavor,’ I said, ‘these chains are of gold!’

He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned his head slowly and stared at me, and when I had repeated my words, at the twisted chain about his right hand. ‘So they are,’ he said, ‘so they are.’ His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I sat for a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed this, until I considered the blue light in which we had been, and which had taken all the colour out of the metal. And from that discovery I also started upon a train of thought that carried me wide and far. I forgot that I had just been asking what business we had in the moon. Gold——

It was Cavor who spoke first. ‘It seems to me that there are two courses open to us.’

‘Well?’

‘Either we can attempt to make our way — fight our way if necessary —out to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere until we find it, or the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else——’

He paused. ‘Yes?’ I said, though I knew what was coming.

‘We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding with the minds of the people in the moon.’

‘So far as I’m concerned — it’s the first.’

‘I doubt.’

‘i don’t.’

‘You see,’ said Cavor, ‘i do not think we can judge the Selenites by what we have seen of them. Their central world, their civilised world will be far below in the profounder caverns about their sea. This region of the crust in which we are is an outlying district, a pastoral region. At any rate, that is my interpretation. These Selenites we have seen may be only the equivalent of cowboys and engine tenders. Their use of goads — in all probability mooncalf goads — the lack of imagination they show in expecting us to be able to do just what they can do, their indisputable brutality, all seem to point to something of that sort. But if we endured——’

‘Neither of us could endure a six-inch plank across the bottomless pit for very long.’

‘No,’ said Cavor; ‘but then——’

‘I won’t,’ I said.

He discovered a new line of possibilities. ‘Well, suppose we got ourselves into some corner, where we could defend ourselves against these hinds and labourers. If, for example, we could hold out for a week or so, it is probable that the news of our appearance would filter down to the more intelligent and populous parts——’

‘If they exist.’

‘They must exist, or whence came those tremendous machines?’

‘That’s possible, but it’s the worst of the two chances.’

‘We might write up inscriptions on walls — ’

‘How do we know their eyes would see the sort of marks we made?’

‘If we cut them——’

‘That’s possible, of course.’

I took up a new thread of thought. ‘After all,’ I said, ‘I suppose you don’t think these Selenites so infinitely wiser than men.’

‘They must know a lot more — or at least a lot of different