Chương Chương 11 · The Mooncalf Pastures

. The Mooncalf Pastures

So we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in that wild-growing moon

jungle, crawled in terror before the sounds that had come upon us. We

crawled, as it seemed, a long time before we saw either Selenite or

mooncalf, though we heard the bellowing and gruntulous noises of these

latter continually drawing nearer to us. We crawled through stony

ravines, over snow slopes, amidst fungi that ripped like thin bladders

at our thrust, emitting a watery humour, over a perfect pavement of

things like puff-balls, and beneath interminable thickets of scrub. And

ever more helplessly our eyes sought for our abandoned sphere. The

noise of the mooncalves would at times be a vast flat calf-like sound,

at times it rose to an amazed and wrathy bellowing, and again it would

become a clogged bestial sound, as though these unseen creatures had

sought to eat and bellow at the same time.

Our first view was but an inadequate transitory glimpse, yet none the

less disturbing because it was incomplete. Cavor was crawling in front

at the time, and he first was aware of their proximity. He stopped

dead, arresting me with a single gesture.

A crackling and smashing of the scrub appeared to be advancing directly

upon us, and then, as we squatted close and endeavoured to judge of the

nearness and direction of this noise, there came a terrific bellow

behind us, so close and vehement that the tops of the bayonet scrub

bent before it, and one felt the breath of it hot and moist. And,

turning about, we saw indistinctly through a crowd of swaying stems the

mooncalf’s shining sides, and the long line of its back loomed out

against the sky.

Of course it is hard for me now to say how much I saw at that time,

because my impressions were corrected by subsequent observation. First

of all impressions was its enormous size; the girth of its body was

some fourscore feet, its length perhaps two hundred. Its sides rose and

fell with its laboured breathing. I perceived that its gigantic, flabby

body lay along the ground, and that its skin was of a corrugated white,

dappling into blackness along the backbone. But of its feet we saw

nothing. I think also that we saw then the profile at least of the

almost brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, its slobbering

omnivorous mouth, its little nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For the

mooncalf invariably shuts its eyes in the presence of the sun.) We had

a glimpse of a vast red pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and bellow

again; we had a breath from the pit, and then the monster heeled over

like a ship, dragged forward along the ground, creasing all its

leathery skin, rolled again, and so wallowed past us, smashing a path

amidst the scrub, and was speedily hidden from our eyes by the dense

interlacings beyond. Another appeared more distantly, and then another,

and then, as though he was guiding these animated lumps of provender to

their pasture, a Selenite came momentarily into ken. My grip upon

Cavor’s foot became convulsive at the sight of him, and we remained

motionless and peering long after he had passed out of our range.

By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed a trivial being, a mere ant,

scarcely five feet high. He was wearing garments of some leathery

substance, so that no portion of his actual body appeared, but of this,

of course, we were entirely ignorant. He presented himself, therefore,

as a compact, bristling creature, having much of the quality of a

complicated insect, with whip-like tentacles and a clanging arm

projecting from his shining cylindrical body case. The form of his head

was hidden by his enormous many-spiked helmet—we discovered afterwards

that he used the spikes for prodding refractory mooncalves—and a pair

of goggles of darkened glass, set very much at the side, gave a

bird-like quality to the metallic apparatus that covered his face. His

arms did not project beyond his body case, and he carried himself upon

short legs that, wrapped though they were in warm coverings, seemed to

our terrestrial eyes inordinately flimsy. They had very short thighs,

very long shanks, and little feet.

In spite of his heavy-looking clothing, he was progressing with what

would be, from the terrestrial point of view, very considerable

strides, and his clanging arm was busy. The quality of his motion

during the instant of his passing suggested haste and a certain anger,

and soon after we had lost sight of him we heard the bellow of a

mooncalf change abruptly into a short, sharp squeal followed by the

scuffle of its acceleration. And gradually that bellowing receded, and

then came to an end, as if the pastures sought had been attained.

We listened. For a space the moon world was still. But it was some time

before we resumed our crawling search for the vanished sphere.

When next we saw mooncalves they were some little distance away from us

in a place of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces of the rocks

were thick with a speckled green plant growing in dense mossy clumps,

upon which these creatures were browsing. We stopped at the edge of the

reeds amidst which we were crawling at the sight of them, peering out

at them and looking round for a second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay

against their food like stupendous slugs, huge, greasy hulls, eating

greedily and noisily, with a sort of sobbing avidity. They seemed

monsters of mere fatness, clumsy and overwhelmed to a degree that would

make a Smithfield ox seem a model of agility. Their busy, writhing,

chewing mouths, and eyes closed, together with the appetising sound of

their munching, made up an effect of animal enjoyment that was

singularly stimulating to our empty frames.

“Hogs!” said Cavor, with unusual passion. “Disgusting hogs!” and after

one glare of angry envy crawled off through the bushes to our right. I

stayed long enough to see that the speckled plant was quite hopeless

for human nourishment, then crawled after him, nibbling a quill of it

between my teeth.

Presently we were arrested again by the proximity of a Selenite, and

this time we were able to observe him more exactly. Now we could see

that the Selenite covering was indeed clothing, and not a sort of

crustacean integument. He was quite similar in his costume to the

former one we had glimpsed, except that ends of something like wadding

were protruding from his neck, and he stood on a promontory of rock and

moved his head this way and that, as though he was surveying the

crater. We lay quite still, fearing to attract his attention if we

moved, and after a time he turned about and disappeared.

We came upon another drove of mooncalves bellowing up a ravine, and

then we passed over a place of sounds, sounds of beating machinery as

if some huge hall of industry came near the surface there. And while

these sounds were still about us we came to the edge of a great open

space, perhaps two hundred yards in diameter, and perfectly level. Save

for a few lichens that advanced from its margin this space was bare,

and presented a powdery surface of a dusty yellow colour. We were

afraid to strike out across this space, but as it presented less

obstruction to our crawling than the scrub, we went down upon it and

began very circumspectly to skirt its edge.

For a little while the noises from below ceased and everything, save

for the faint stir of the growing vegetation, was very still. Then

abruptly there began an uproar, louder, more vehement, and nearer than

any we had so far heard. Of a certainty it came from below.

Instinctively we crouched as flat as we could, ready for a prompt

plunge into the thicket beside us. Each knock and throb seemed to

vibrate through our bodies. Louder grew this throbbing and beating, and

that irregular vibration increased until the whole moon world seemed to

be jerking and pulsing.

“Cover,” whispered Cavor, and I turned towards the bushes.

At that instant came a thud like the thud of a gun, and then a thing

happened—it still haunts me in my dreams. I had turned my head to look

at Cavor’s face, and thrust out my hand in front of me as I did so. And

my hand met nothing! I plunged suddenly into a bottomless hole!

My chest hit something hard, and I found myself with my chin on the

edge of an unfathomable abyss that had suddenly opened beneath me, my

hand extended stiffly into the void. The whole of that flat circular

area was no more than a gigantic lid, that was now sliding sideways

from off the pit it had covered into a slot prepared for it.

Had it not been for Cavor I think I should have remained rigid, hanging

over this margin and staring into the enormous gulf below, until at

last the edges of the slot scraped me off and hurled me into its

depths. But Cavor had not received the shock that had paralysed me. He

had been a little distance from the edge when the lid had first opened,

and perceiving the peril that held me helpless, gripped my legs and

pulled me backward. I came into a sitting position, crawled away from

the edge for a space on all fours, then staggered up and ran after him

across the thundering, quivering sheet of metal. It seemed to be

swinging open with a steadily accelerated velocity, and the bushes in

front of me shifted sideways as I ran.

I was none too soon. Cavor’s back vanished amidst the bristling

thicket, and as I scrambled up after him, the monstrous valve came into

its position with a clang. For a long time we lay panting, not daring

to approach the pit.

But at last very cautiously and bit by bit we crept into a position

from which we could peer down. The bushes about us creaked and waved

with the force of a breeze that was blowing down the shaft. We could

see nothing at first except smooth vertical walls descending at last

into an impenetrable black. And then very gradually we became aware of

a number of very faint and little lights going to and fro.

For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery held us so that we forgot

even our sphere. In time, as we grew more accustomed to the darkness,

we could make out very small, dim, elusive shapes moving about among

those needle-point illuminations. We peered amazed and incredulous,

understanding so little that we could find no words to say. We could

distinguish nothing that would give us a clue to the meaning of the

faint shapes we saw.

“What can it be?” I asked; “what can it be?”

“The engineering!... They must live in these caverns during the night,

and come out during the day.”

“Cavor!” I said. “Can they be—_that_—it was something like—men?”

“_That_ was not a man.”

“We dare risk nothing!”

“We dare do nothing until we find the sphere!”

“We _can_ do nothing until we find the sphere.”

He assented with a groan and stirred himself to move. He stared about

him for a space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We struck out

through the jungle. For a time we crawled resolutely, then with

diminishing vigour. Presently among great shapes of flabby purple there

came a noise of trampling and cries about us. We lay close, and for a

long time the sounds went to and fro and very near. But this time we

saw nothing. I tried to whisper to Cavor that I could hardly go without

food much longer, but my mouth had become too dry for whispering.

“Cavor,” I said, “I must have food.”

He turned a face full of dismay towards me. “It’s a case for holding

out,” he said.

“But I _must_,” I said, “and look at my lips!”

“I’ve been thirsty some time.”

“If only some of that snow had remained!”

“It’s clean gone! We’re driving from arctic to tropical at the rate of

a degree a minute....”

I gnawed my hand.

“The sphere!” he said. “There is nothing for it but the sphere.”

We roused ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My mind ran entirely

on edible things, on the hissing profundity of summer drinks, more

particularly I craved for beer. I was haunted by the memory of a

sixteen gallon cask that had swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I thought

of the adjacent larder, and especially of steak and kidney pie—tender

steak and plenty of kidney, and rich, thick gravy between. Ever and

again I was seized with fits of hungry yawning. We came to flat places

overgrown with fleshy red things, monstrous coralline growths; as we

pushed against them they snapped and broke. I noted the quality of the

broken surfaces. The confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable

texture. Then it seemed to me that it smelt rather well.

I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it.

“Cavor,” I said in a hoarse undertone.

He glanced at me with his face screwed up. “Don’t,” he said. I put down

the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for a

space.

“Cavor,” I asked, “why _not?_”

“Poison,” I heard him say, but he did not look round.

We crawled some way before I decided.

“I’ll chance it,” said I.

He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He

crouched watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression.

“It’s good,” I said.

“O Lord!” he cried.

He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval,

then suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge

mouthfuls. For a time we did nothing but eat.

The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer

in texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we

experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood

began to run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then

new and slightly irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds.

“It’s good,” said I. “Infernally good! What a home for our surplus

population! Our poor surplus population,” and I broke off another large

portion. It filled me with a curiously benevolent satisfaction that

there was such good food in the moon. The depression of my hunger gave

way to an irrational exhilaration. The dread and discomfort in which I

had been living vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no longer as a

planet from which I most earnestly desired the means of escape, but as

a possible refuge from human destitution. I think I forgot the

Selenites, the mooncalves, the lid, and the noises completely so soon

as I had eaten that fungus.

Cavor replied to my third repetition of my “surplus population” remark

with similar words of approval. I felt that my head swam, but I put

this down to the stimulating effect of food after a long fast.

“Ess’lent discov’ry yours, Cavor,” said I. “Se’nd on’y to the ‘tato.”

“Whajer mean?” asked Cavor. “‘Scovery of the moon—se’nd on’y to the

tato?”

I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly hoarse voice, and by the

badness of his articulation. It occurred to me in a flash that he was

intoxicated, possibly by the fungus. It also occurred to me that he

erred in imagining that he had discovered the moon; he had not

discovered it, he had only reached it. I tried to lay my hand on his

arm and explain this to him, but the issue was too subtle for his

brain. It was also unexpectedly difficult to express. After a momentary

attempt to understand me—I remember wondering if the fungus had made my

eyes as fishy as his—he set off upon some observations on his own

account.

“We are,” he announced with a solemn hiccup, “the creashurs o’ what we

eat and drink.”

He repeated this, and as I was now in one of my subtle moods, I

determined to dispute it. Possibly I wandered a little from the point.

But Cavor certainly did not attend at all properly. He stood up as well

as he could, putting a hand on my head to steady himself, which was

disrespectful, and stood staring about him, quite devoid now of any

fear of the moon beings.

I tried to point out that this was dangerous for some reason that was

not perfectly clear to me, but the word “dangerous” had somehow got

mixed with “indiscreet,” and came out rather more like “injurious” than

either; and after an attempt to disentangle them, I resumed my

argument, addressing myself principally to the unfamiliar but attentive

coralline growths on either side. I felt that it was necessary to clear

up this confusion between the moon and a potato at once—I wandered into

a long parenthesis on the importance of precision of definition in

argument. I did my best to ignore the fact that my bodily sensations

were no longer agreeable.

In some way that I have now forgotten, my mind was led back to projects

of colonisation. “We must annex this moon,” I said. “There must be no

shilly-shally. This is part of the White Man’s Burthen. Cavor—we

are—_hic_—Satap—mean Satraps! Nempire Cæsar never dreamt. B’in all the

newspapers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. Bedfordecia—hic—Limited.

Mean—unlimited! Practically.”

Certainly I was intoxicated.

I embarked upon an argument to show the infinite benefits our arrival

would confer on the moon. I involved myself in a rather difficult proof

that the arrival of Columbus was, on the whole, beneficial to America.

I found I had forgotten the line of argument I had intended to pursue,

and continued to repeat “sim’lar to C’lumbus,” to fill up time.

From that point my memory of the action of that abominable fungus

becomes confused. I remember vaguely that we declared our intention of

standing no nonsense from any confounded insects, that we decided it

ill became men to hide shamefully upon a mere satellite, that we

equipped ourselves with huge armfuls of the fungus—whether for missile

purposes or not I do not know—and, heedless of the stabs of the bayonet

scrub, we started forth into the sunshine.

Almost immediately we must have come upon the Selenites. There were six

of them, and they were marching in single file over a rocky place,

making the most remarkable piping and whining sounds. They all seemed

to become aware of us at once, all instantly became silent and

motionless, like animals, with their faces turned towards us.

For a moment I was sobered.

“Insects,” murmured Cavor, “insects! And they think I’m going to crawl

about on my stomach—on my vertebrated stomach!

“Stomach,” he repeated slowly, as though he chewed the indignity.

Then suddenly, with a sort of fury, he made three vast strides and

leapt towards them. He leapt badly; he made a series of somersaults in

the air, whirled right over them, and vanished with an enormous splash

amidst the cactus bladders. What the Selenites made of this amazing,

and to my mind undignified irruption from another planet, I have no

means of guessing. I seem to remember the sight of their backs as they

ran in all directions, but I am not sure. All these last incidents

before oblivion came are vague and faint in my mind. I know I made a

step to follow Cavor, and tripped and fell headlong among the rocks. I

was, I am certain, suddenly and vehemently ill. I seem to remember a

violent struggle and being gripped by metallic clasps....

My next clear recollection is that we were prisoners at we knew not

what depths beneath the moon’s surface; we were in darkness amidst

strange distracting noises; our bodies were covered with scratches and

bruises, and our heads racked with pain.