by H. G. Wells
IX
'We emerged from the palace while the sun was still in part abovethe horizon. I was determined to reach the White Sphinx early thenext morning, and ere the dusk I purposed pushing through the woodsthat had stopped me on the previous journey. My plan was to go asfar as possible that night, and then, building a fire, to sleepin the protection of its glare. Accordingly, as we went along Igathered any sticks or dried grass I saw, and presently had my armsfull of such litter. Thus loaded, our progress was slower than I hadanticipated, and besides Weena was tired. And I began to suffer fromsleepiness too; so that it was full night before we reached thewood. Upon the shrubby hill of its edge Weena would have stopped,fearing the darkness before us; but a singular sense of impendingcalamity, that should indeed have served me as a warning, drove meonward. I had been without sleep for a night and two days, and I wasfeverish and irritable. I felt sleep coming upon me, and theMorlocks with it.
'While we hesitated, among the black bushes behind us, and dimagainst their blackness, I saw three crouching figures. There wasscrub and long grass all about us, and I did not feel safe fromtheir insidious approach. The forest, I calculated, was ratherless than a mile across. If we could get through it to the barehill-side, there, as it seemed to me, was an altogether saferresting-place; I thought that with my matches and my camphor I couldcontrive to keep my path illuminated through the woods. Yet it wasevident that if I was to flourish matches with my hands I shouldhave to abandon my firewood; so, rather reluctantly, I put it down.And then it came into my head that I would amaze our friends behindby lighting it. I was to discover the atrocious folly of thisproceeding, but it came to my mind as an ingenious move for coveringour retreat.
'I don't know if you have ever thought what a rare thing flame mustbe in the absence of man and in a temperate climate. The sun'sheat is rarely strong enough to burn, even when it is focused bydewdrops, as is sometimes the case in more tropical districts.Lightning may blast and blacken, but it rarely gives rise towidespread fire. Decaying vegetation may occasionally smoulder withthe heat of its fermentation, but this rarely results in flame. Inthis decadence, too, the art of fire-making had been forgotten onthe earth. The red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood werean altogether new and strange thing to Weena.
'She wanted to run to it and play with it. I believe she would havecast herself into it had I not restrained her. But I caught her up,and in spite of her struggles, plunged boldly before me into thewood. For a little way the glare of my fire lit the path. Lookingback presently, I could see, through the crowded stems, that from myheap of sticks the blaze had spread to some bushes adjacent, and acurved line of fire was creeping up the grass of the hill. I laughedat that, and turned again to the dark trees before me. It was veryblack, and Weena clung to me convulsively, but there was still, asmy eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, sufficient light for me toavoid the stems. Overhead it was simply black, except where a gap ofremote blue sky shone down upon us here and there. I struck none ofmy matches because I had no hand free. Upon my left arm I carried mylittle one, in my right hand I had my iron bar.
'For some way I heard nothing but the crackling twigs under my feet,the faint rustle of the breeze above, and my own breathing and thethrob of the blood-vessels in my ears. Then I seemed to know of apattering about me. I pushed on grimly. The pattering grew moredistinct, and then I caught the same queer sound and voices I hadheard in the Under-world. There were evidently several of theMorlocks, and they were closing in upon me. Indeed, in anotherminute I felt a tug at my coat, then something at my arm. And Weenashivered violently, and became quite still.
'It was time for a match. But to get one I must put her down. I didso, and, as I fumbled with my pocket, a struggle began in thedarkness about my knees, perfectly silent on her part and with thesame peculiar cooing sounds from the Morlocks. Soft little hands,too, were creeping over my coat and back, touching even my neck.Then the match scratched and fizzed. I held it flaring, and saw thewhite backs of the Morlocks in flight amid the trees. I hastily tooka lump of camphor from my pocket, and prepared to light it as soonas the match should wane. Then I looked at Weena. She was lyingclutching my feet and quite motionless, with her face to the ground.With a sudden fright I stooped to her. She seemed scarcely tobreathe. I lit the block of camphor and flung it to the ground,and as it split and flared up and drove back the Morlocks and theshadows, I knelt down and lifted her. The wood behind seemed full ofthe stir and murmur of a great company!
'She seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon my shoulderand rose to push on, and then there came a horrible realization. Inmanoeuvring with my matches and Weena, I had turned myself aboutseveral times, and now I had not the faintest idea in what directionlay my path. For all I knew, I might be facing back towards thePalace of Green Porcelain. I found myself in a cold sweat. I had tothink rapidly what to do. I determined to build a fire and encampwhere we were. I put Weena, still motionless, down upon a turfybole, and very hastily, as my first lump of camphor waned, I begancollecting sticks and leaves. Here and there out of the darknessround me the Morlocks' eyes shone like carbuncles.
'The camphor flickered and went out. I lit a match, and as I did so,two white forms that had been approaching Weena dashed hastily away.One was so blinded by the light that he came straight for me, and Ifelt his bones grind under the blow of my fist. He gave a whoop ofdismay, staggered a little way, and fell down. I lit another pieceof camphor, and went on gathering my bonfire. Presently I noticedhow dry was some of the foliage above me, for since my arrivalon the Time Machine, a matter of a week, no rain had fallen. So,instead of casting about among the trees for fallen twigs, I beganleaping up and dragging down branches. Very soon I had a chokingsmoky fire of green wood and dry sticks, and could economize mycamphor. Then I turned to where Weena lay beside my iron mace. Itried what I could to revive her, but she lay like one dead. I couldnot even satisfy myself whether or not she breathed.
'Now, the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and it must havemade me heavy of a sudden. Moreover, the vapour of camphor was inthe air. My fire would not need replenishing for an hour or so. Ifelt very weary after my exertion, and sat down. The wood, too, wasfull of a slumbrous murmur that I did not understand. I seemed justto nod and open my eyes. But all was dark, and the Morlocks hadtheir hands upon me. Flinging off their clinging fingers I hastilyfelt in my pocket for the match-box, and--it had gone! Then theygripped and closed with me again. In a moment I knew what hadhappened. I had slept, and my fire had gone out, and the bitternessof death came over my soul. The forest seemed full of the smell ofburning wood. I was caught by the neck, by the hair, by the arms,and pulled down. It was indescribably horrible in the darkness tofeel all these soft creatures heaped upon me. I felt as if I was ina monstrous spider's web. I was overpowered, and went down. I feltlittle teeth nipping at my neck. I rolled over, and as I did so myhand came against my iron lever. It gave me strength. I struggledup, shaking the human rats from me, and, holding the bar short,I thrust where I judged their faces might be. I could feel thesucculent giving of flesh and bone under my blows, and for a momentI was free.
'The strange exultation that so often seems to accompany hardfighting came upon me. I knew that both I and Weena were lost, but Idetermined to make the Morlocks pay for their meat. I stood with myback to a tree, swinging the iron bar before me. The whole wood wasfull of the stir and cries of them. A minute passed. Their voicesseemed to rise to a higher pitch of excitement, and their movementsgrew faster. Yet none came within reach. I stood glaring at theblackness. Then suddenly came hope. What if the Morlocks wereafraid? And close on the heels of that came a strange thing. Thedarkness seemed to grow luminous. Very dimly I began to see theMorlocks about me--three battered at my feet--and then I recognized,with incredulous surprise, that the others were running, in anincessant stream, as it seemed, from behind me, and away through thewood in front. And their backs seemed no longer white, but reddish.As I stood agape, I saw a little red spark go driftin
g across a gapof starlight between the branches, and vanish. And at that Iunderstood the smell of burning wood, the slumbrous murmur that wasgrowing now into a gusty roar, the red glow, and the Morlocks'flight.
'Stepping out from behind my tree and looking back, I saw, throughthe black pillars of the nearer trees, the flames of the burningforest. It was my first fire coming after me. With that I looked forWeena, but she was gone. The hissing and crackling behind me, theexplosive thud as each fresh tree burst into flame, left littletime for reflection. My iron bar still gripped, I followed in theMorlocks' path. It was a close race. Once the flames crept forwardso swiftly on my right as I ran that I was outflanked and had tostrike off to the left. But at last I emerged upon a small openspace, and as I did so, a Morlock came blundering towards me, andpast me, and went on straight into the fire!
'And now I was to see the most weird and horrible thing, I think, ofall that I beheld in that future age. This whole space was as brightas day with the reflection of the fire. In the centre was a hillockor tumulus, surmounted by a scorched hawthorn. Beyond this wasanother arm of the burning forest, with yellow tongues alreadywrithing from it, completely encircling the space with a fence offire. Upon the hill-side were some thirty or forty Morlocks, dazzledby the light and heat, and blundering hither and thither againsteach other in their bewilderment. At first I did not realize theirblindness, and struck furiously at them with my bar, in a frenzy offear, as they approached me, killing one and crippling several more.But when I had watched the gestures of one of them groping under thehawthorn against the red sky, and heard their moans, I was assuredof their absolute helplessness and misery in the glare, and I struckno more of them.
'Yet every now and then one would come straight towards me, settingloose a quivering horror that made me quick to elude him. At onetime the flames died down somewhat, and I feared the foul creatureswould presently be able to see me. I was thinking of beginning thefight by killing some of them before this should happen; but thefire burst out again brightly, and I stayed my hand. I walked aboutthe hill among them and avoided them, looking for some trace ofWeena. But Weena was gone.
'At last I sat down on the summit of the hillock, and watched thisstrange incredible company of blind things groping to and fro, andmaking uncanny noises to each other, as the glare of the fire beaton them. The coiling uprush of smoke streamed across the sky, andthrough the rare tatters of that red canopy, remote as though theybelonged to another universe, shone the little stars. Two or threeMorlocks came blundering into me, and I drove them off with blowsof my fists, trembling as I did so.
'For the most part of that night I was persuaded it was a nightmare.I bit myself and screamed in a passionate desire to awake. I beatthe ground with my hands, and got up and sat down again, andwandered here and there, and again sat down. Then I would fall torubbing my eyes and calling upon God to let me awake. Thrice I sawMorlocks put their heads down in a kind of agony and rush into theflames. But, at last, above the subsiding red of the fire, above thestreaming masses of black smoke and the whitening and blackeningtree stumps, and the diminishing numbers of these dim creatures,came the white light of the day.
'I searched again for traces of Weena, but there were none. It wasplain that they had left her poor little body in the forest. Icannot describe how it relieved me to think that it had escaped theawful fate to which it seemed destined. As I thought of that, I wasalmost moved to begin a massacre of the helpless abominations aboutme, but I contained myself. The hillock, as I have said, was a kindof island in the forest. From its summit I could now make outthrough a haze of smoke the Palace of Green Porcelain, and from thatI could get my bearings for the White Sphinx. And so, leaving theremnant of these damned souls still going hither and thither andmoaning, as the day grew clearer, I tied some grass about my feetand limped on across smoking ashes and among black stems, that stillpulsated internally with fire, towards the hiding-place of the TimeMachine. I walked slowly, for I was almost exhausted, as well aslame, and I felt the intensest wretchedness for the horrible deathof little Weena. It seemed an overwhelming calamity. Now, in thisold familiar room, it is more like the sorrow of a dream than anactual loss. But that morning it left me absolutely lonelyagain--terribly alone. I began to think of this house of mine, ofthis fireside, of some of you, and with such thoughts came a longingthat was pain.
'But as I walked over the smoking ashes under the bright morningsky, I made a discovery. In my trouser pocket were still some loosematches. The box must have leaked before it was lost.