It is still a matter of wonder how the Martians are able to slay men so swiftly and so silently. Many think that in some
way they are able to generate an intense heat in a chamber of practically absolute non-conductivity. This intense heat they
project in a parallel beam against any object they choose, by means of a polished parabolic mirror of unknown composition,
much as the parabolic mirror of a lighthouse projects a beam of light. But no one has absolutely proved these details. However
it is done, it is certain that a beam of heat is the essence of the matter. Heat, and invisible, instead of visible, light.
Whatever is combustible flashes into flame at its touch, lead runs like water, it softens iron, cracks and melts glass, and
when it falls upon water, incontinently that explodes into steam.
That night nearly forty people lay under the starlight about the pit charred and distorted beyond recognition, and all
night long the common from Horsell to Maybury was deserted and brightly ablaze.
The news of the massacre probably reached Chobham, Woking, and Ottershaw about the same time. In Woking the shops had closed
when the tragedy happened, and a number of people, shop people and so forth, attracted by the stories they had heard, were
walking over the Horsell Bridge and along the road between the hedges that runs out at last upon the common. You may imagine
the young people brushed up after the labours of the day, and making this novelty, as they would make any novelty, the excuse
for walking together and enjoying a trivial flirtation. You may figure to yourself the hunt of voices along the road in the
gloaming....As yet, of course, few people in Woking even knew that the cylinder had opened, though poor Henderson had sent
a messenger on a bicycle to the post office with a special wire to an evening paper.
As these folks came out by twos and threes upon the open, they found little knots of people talking excitedly
and peering at the spinning mirror over the sand pits, and the newcomers were, no doubt, soon infected by the excitement of
By half past eight, when the Deputation was destroyed, there may have been a crowd of three hundred people
or more at this place, besides those who had left the road to approach the Martians nearer. There were three policemen too,
one of whom was mounted, doing their best, under instructions from Stent, to keep the people back and deter them from approaching
the cylinder. There was some booing from those more thoughtless and excitable souls to whom a crowd is always an occasion
for noise and horse-play.
Stent and Ogilvy, anticipating some possibilities of a collision, had telegraphed from Horsell to the
barracks as soon as the Martians emerged, for the help of a company of soldiers to protect these strange creatures from violence.
After that they returned to lead that ill-fated advance. The description of their death, as it was seen by the crowd, tallies
very closely with my own impressions: the three puffs of green smoke, the deep humming note, and the flashes of flame.
But that crowd of people had a far narrower escape than mine. Only the fact that a hummock of heathery
sand intercepted the lower part of the Heat-Ray saved them. Had the elevation of the parabolic mirror been a few yards higher,
none could have lived to tell the tale. They saw the flashes and the men falling and an invisible hand, as it were, lit the
bushes as it hurried towards them through the twilight. Then, with a whistling note that rose above the droning of the pit,
the beam swung close over their heads, lighting the tops of the beech trees that line the road, and splitting the bricks,
smashing the windows, firing the window frames, and bringing down in crumbling rain a portion of the gable of the house nearest
In the sudden thud, hiss, and glare of the igniting trees, the panic-stricken crowd seems to have swayed hesitatingly for
some moments. Sparks and burning twigs began to fall into the road, and single leaves like puffs of flame. Hats and dresses
caught fire. Then came a crying from the common. There were shrieks and shouts, and suddenly a mounted policeman came galloping
through the confusion with his hands clasped over his head, screaming.
"They're coming!" a woman shrieked, and incontinently everyone was turning and pushing at those behind,
in order to clear their way to Woking again. They must have bolted as blindly as a flock of sheep. Where the road grows narrow
and black between the high banks the crowd jammed, and a desperate struggle occurred. All that crowd did not escape; three
persons at least, two women and a little boy, were crushed and trampled there, and left to die amid the terror and the darkness.