He went down to the water’s edge, and with his hands washed off much of the traces of the smoke, and grime which so disfigured him. Then, when he had swept back his hair, he held out his hand and assisted Amelia as she climbed back into the boat.
Chapter Twenty
ROWING DOWN THE RIVER
i
That our new friend was a man of gentle manners was affirmed the moment we entered the boat. He would not hear of my rowing until he had served a turn at the oars, and insisted that I sit with Amelia in the rear of the boat.
“We must have our wits about us,” he said, “in case those devils return. We will take turns at the oars, and all keep our eyes open.”
I had been feeling for some time that the Martians’ apparent inactivity must be temporary, and it was reassuring to know that my suspicions were shared. This could only be a lull in their campaign, and as such we must take the maximum advantage of it.
In accordance with our plan I kept a careful watch for sight of the tripods (although all seemed presently quiet), but Amelia’s’ attention was elsewhere. Indeed, she was staring at our new friend with quite improper attention.
At length she said: “Sir, may I enquire if you have ever visited Reynolds House in Richmond?”
The gentleman looked at her in manifest surprise, but immediately said: “I have indeed, but not for many years.”
“Then you would know Sir William Reynolds?”
“We were never the closest of friends, for I fear he was not one for intimate friendships, but we were members of the same club in St James’s and were occasionally wont to exchange confidences.”
Amelia was frowning in concentration. “I believe we have met before.”
Our friend paused with the oars clear of the water.
“By Jove!” he cried. “Are you not Sir William’s former amanuensis?”
“Yes, I am. And you, sir, I think your name is Mr Wells.”
“That is my name,” he said gravely. “And if I am not mistaken, I do believe you are Miss Fitzgibbon.”
Amelia instantly confirmed this. “What a remarkable coincidence!”
Mr Wells politely asked me my name, and I introduced myself. I reached over to shake his hand, and he leaned forward over the oars.
“Pleased to meet you, Turnbull,” he said.
Just then the sunlight fell on his face in such a way that his eyes revealed themselves to be a startling blue; in his tired and worried face they shone like optimistic beacons, and I felt myself warming to him.
Amelia was still animated in her excitement.
“It is to Reynolds House that we are going now,” she said. “We feel Sir William is one of the few men who can confront this menace.”
Mr Wells frowned, and returned to his rowing.
After a moment, he said: “I take it you have not seen Sir William for some time?”
Amelia glanced at me, and I knew she was uncertain how to reply.
I said for her: “Not since May of 1893, Sir.”
“That is the last time I, or anyone else, saw him. Surely if you were in his employ, you know about this?”
Amelia said: “I ceased to work for him in that May. Are you saying that he subsequently died?”
I knew that this last was a wild guess, but Mr Wells promptly corrected it.
“I think Sir William is not dead,” he said. “He went into futurity on that infernal Time Machine of his, and although he returned once he has not been seen since his second journey.”
“You know this for certain?” Amelia said.
“I was honoured to be the author of his memoirs,” said Mr Wells, “for he dictated them to me himself.”
ii
As we rowed along, Mr Wells told us what was known of Sir William’s fate. At the same time it was interesting to realize that some of our earlier surmises had not been inaccurate.
It seemed that after the Time Machine had deposited us so abruptly in the weed-bank, it had returned unscathed to Richmond. Mr Wells could not have known of our mishap, of course, but his account of Sir William’s subsequent experiments made no mention of the fact that the Machine had been missing for even a short period.
Sir William, according to Mr Wells, had been more adventurous than even we had been, taking the Time Machine into a far-distant future. Here Sir William had seen many strange sights (Mr Wells promised to let us have a copy of his account, for he said the story would take too long to recount at the moment), and although he had returned to tell his tale, he had later departed a second time for futurity. On that occasion he bad never returned.
Imagining that Sir William had suffered a similar mishap with the Machine as us, I said: “The Time Machine came back empty, sir?”
“Neither the Machine nor Sir William have been seen again.”
“Then there is no way we can reach him?”
“Not without a second Time Machine,” said Mr Wells.
By now we were passing Walton-on-Thames, and there was much activity within the town. We saw several fire-engines rattling along the riverside road in the direction of Weybridge, the horses’ hooves throwing up white dust-clouds. An orderly, but hurried, evacuation was taking place, with many hundreds of people walking or riding along the road towards London. The river itself was congested, with several boats ferrying people across to the Sunbury side, and we were obliged to steer carefully between them. Along the northern bank we saw much evidence of military activity, with scores of soldiers marching towards the west. In the meadows to the east of Halliford we saw more artillery being readied.
This distraction brought to an end our conversation about Sir William, and by the time we had passed Walton we sat in silence. Mr Wells was seeming to tire at the oars, so I changed places with him.
Once more occupied with the regular physical task of rowing, I found my thoughts returning to the orderly procession they had enjoyed shortly before we met Mr Wells arid the curate.
Until this moment I had not tried to understand why we were so determined to reach Sir William’s house. Mr Wells’s mention of the Time Machine, though, had focused my thoughts directly on the reason: in some instinctive way it had occurred to me that the Machine itself might be used against Martians. It was, after all, the instrument by which we had first reached Mars, and its weird movements through the attenuated dimensions of Space and Time were certainly unequalled by anything the Martians commanded.
However, if the Time Machine were no longer available, then any such idea had to be abandoned. We were pressing on to Richmond, though, for Sir William’s house, lying in its secluded position just behind the ridge of the Hill, would be a safer sanctuary than most from the Martians.
Facing Amelia as I was, I noticed that she too seemed lost in thought, and I wondered if she had been coming to the same conclusion.
At last, not wishing to ignore Mr Wells, I said: “Sir, do you know what preparations the Army is making?”
“Only what we have seen today. They were taken quite unawares. Even from the early moments of the invasion, no one in authority was prepared to take the situation seriously.”
“You speak as if you are critical.”
“I am,” said Mr Wells. “The fact that the Martians were sending an invasion-fleet has been known for several weeks. As I told you, the firing of their projectiles was observed by many scientists. Any number of warnings was issued, both in scientific papers and in the popular press, yet even when the first cylinder landed the authorities were slow to move.”