There were ships of shapes and sizes
Scattered out along the bay,
And I thought I heard her calling
As the steamer pulled away
x-x-x-x-x
The ferry carrying my half-sister and our father set out across the bay to join the other ships and dinghies, as I was pushed farther and farther from the shore by the crowd. I struggled against them, but moving against the pack of bodies was like trying to swim upstream against a waterfall. I felt helpless in trying to reach them. Hard to hear though it was against the constant murmur and noise of the mass of people on all sides, Karai's voice carried to me, still calling my name, as though that might summon me to her somehow. I tried, fruitlessly, I was sure, to call back to her one last time. Those around me grumbled or muttered rude things about me, my plight mattering not a tik to them.
But it was because I was facing the other direction that I spotted the tripod as it waded out from the mouth of the Thames into the deeper waters after the ferry. Two more silhouettes appeared on the banks, one wading halfway in, halting before it got as deep as its earlier companion, who, striding out on the continental shelf, now had its legs completely submerged, its hood being the only thing still above water. The third also plunged in, and joined its compatriot in chasing down the escaping boats.
Suddenly, a flash of metal, from low in the water, moved out along the shore, then with a roar and a whoosh of spray, drove full-speed to intercept the Martians: our ironclad torpedo ram, the Thunder Child!
x-x-x-x-x
The invaders must have seen them
As across the coast they filed
Standing firm between them
There lay Thunder Child!
x-x-x-x-x
The silver-gray of the warship must have confused the Martians in the water, for they let it come up quite close, perhaps thinking it one of their own. Its guns blazed. The wading Martian had its hood blown to pieces at close range. It issued a mechanical whoop of surprise before toppling off its legs and into the sea.
x-x-x-x-x
Moving swiftly through the waters,
Cannons blazing as she came
Brought a mighty metal War-Lord
Crashing down in sheets of flame
Sensing victory was nearing,
Thinking fortune must have smiled,
People started cheering,
'Come on, Thunder Child!'
'Come on, Thunder Child!'
x-x-x-x-x
The roar first went up from the passengers on the steamer and the other assorted ships. As it carried back to shore, we all realized, we had scored a victory! Cheers went up as the crowd rejoiced, and imbued with hope, started shouting encouragements as the Thunder Child swung around toward their next target: "That's got it!" "Hit!" "Come on, Thunder Child!"
"Come on, do it again!" I muttered to myself, hoping against hope that our boy would take them all down.
"They've done it!" hollered the handlebar-mustachioed man beside me, shaking me by the rim of my carapace. "They got one!"
"Wait," I said with bated breath. "It's not over yet…"
"No… We've got them on the run now!" he chortled, but I could not share in his optimism, my instincts telling me that the Martians would not be so easily confounded twice, nor so easily taken down.
Shell, I hate when I'm right…
The tripod up to its neck in the water swiveled its heat ray box around just as the Thunder Child was coming about, both firing their opposing weapons at one another. A shell struck the camera-box of the heat ray, knocking it off, and the crowd on shore let out another, somewhat premature cheer, for it had done the rest of the Martian no harm, though it seemed occupied, fishing about in the water for its lost weapon with its tentacle arms. Meanwhile, the crew of the Thunder Child reloaded the guns.
The hood of the tripod looked up and peered around itself for assistance, not having found its ray, and called out in a strange hoot for its allies. The one on the bank answered and echoed its call, and within minutes, two more of the giant metal machines came stepping into view, all of them immediately focusing their heat rays on their ironclad adversary, and melted the Thunder Child's valiant heart.
x-x-x-x-x
Lashing ropes and smashing timbers,
Flashing heat rays pieced the deck
Dashing hopes for our deliverance
As we watched the sinking wreck;
With the smoke of battle clearing
Over graves in waves defiled,
Slowly disappearing—
Farewell, Thunder Child!
Farewell, Thunder Child!
Farewell, Thunder Child!
x-x-x-x-x
When the smoke cleared, we could see the last of the torpedo ram as, still burning, dripping bits of molten iron into the bay, she at last slipped under the water. The masses on the bank fell silent, a pall of dread setting over us all. But the steamer and the other small boats had made it safely out of the Martians' range; Carrie and our father were safe! But for the rest of us, there was no hope left. Save for the occasion lucky mine blast, nothing could stop these Martians, and as we looked up, another green flare crossed the leaden sky, looking to have landed at Wimbledon. Cylinder after cylinder, and no one, and nothing, was left to fight them. It dawned on the crowd how defenseless we were, and many shrieked and headed in all directions away from the sea, making a desperate bid for safety anywhere they could find it.
Once again, I was buffeted about, but I made no attempt to fight. Some may say that I stood there in a stupor—I did not; I have no doubt that I was the only speck on that beach in that moment that stood perfectly calm… albeit, uncertain. Knowing that my loved ones had gotten clear and away, I was, once more, left directionless. Even the Martians struck out in different directions, pursuing little clusters of the crowd to harry them more than would have been called for, perhaps exacting vengeance or retribution for their fallen and disarmed fellows. Perhaps, and I believe more likely, simply for their own cruel entertainment. The heat rays blasted, orange fire leapt, ashy smoke rose in the air to join that of the last remnants of the Thunder Child.
Where was I to go?
In the end, I simply chose a direction at random, and walked. My stomach reminded me of its present emptiness, now that the excitement was done. I would need to find food and shelter somewhere. Nothing else truly mattered anymore; the world belonged to the Martians.
"KRAANG! KRAANG! KRAAANG!"