escaped the wear of time for immemorial years was a most
strange, as for me it was a most fortunate thing. Yet, oddly
enough, I found a far unlikelier substance, and that was
camphor. I found it in a sealed jar, that by chance, I
suppose, had been really hermetically sealed. I fancied at
first that it was paraffin wax, and smashed the glass
accordingly. But the odour of camphor was unmistakable.
In the universal decay this volatile substance had chanced
to survive, perhaps through many thousands of centuries.
It reminded me of a sepia painting I had once seen done
from the ink of a fossil Belemnite that must have perished The Time Machine
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and become fossilized millions of years ago. I was about to
throw it away, but I remembered that it was inflammable
and burned with a good bright flame—was, in fact, an
excellent candle—and I put it in my pocket. I found no
explosives, however, nor any means of breaking down the
bronze doors. As yet my iron crowbar was the most
helpful thing I had chanced upon. Nevertheless I left that
gallery greatly elated.
‘I cannot tell you all the story of that long afternoon. It
would require a great effort of memory to recall my
explorations in at all the proper order. I remember a long
gallery of rusting stands of arms, and how I hesitated
between my crowbar and a hatchet or a sword. I could
not carry both, however, and my bar of iron promised
best against the bronze gates. There were numbers of
guns, pistols, and rifles. The most were masses of rust, but
many were of some new metal, and still fairly sound. But
any cartridges or powder there may once have been had
rotted into dust. One corner I saw was charred and
shattered; perhaps, I thought, by an explosion among the
specimens. In another place was a vast array of idols—
Polynesian, Mexican, Grecian, Phoenician, every country
on earth I should think. And here, yielding to an
irresistible impulse, I wrote my name upon the nose of a The Time Machine
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steatite monster from South America that particularly took
my fancy.
‘As the evening drew on, my interest waned. I went
through gallery after gallery, dusty, silent, often ruinous,
the exhibits sometimes mere heaps of rust and lignite,
sometimes fresher. In one place I suddenly found myself
near the model of a tin-mine, and then by the merest
accident I discovered, in an air-tight case, two dynamite
cartridges! I shouted ‘Eureka!’ and smashed the case with
joy. Then came a doubt. I hesitated. Then, selecting a
little side gallery, I made my essay. I never felt such a
disappointment as I did in waiting five, ten, fifteen
minutes for an explosion that never came. Of course the
things were dummies, as I might have guessed from their
presence. I really believe that had they not been so, I
should have rushed off incontinently and blown Sphinx,
bronze doors, and (as it proved) my chances of finding the
Time Machine, all together into nonexistence.
‘It was after that, I think, that we came to a little open
court within the palace. It was turfed, and had three fruit-
trees. So we rested and refreshed ourselves. Towards
sunset I began to consider our position. Night was
creeping upon us, and my inaccessible hiding-place had
still to be found. But that troubled me very little now. I The Time Machine
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had in my possession a thing that was, perhaps, the best of
all defences against the Morlocks—I had matches! I had
the camphor in my pocket, too, if a blaze were needed. It
seemed to me that the best thing we could do would be to
pass the night in the open, protected by a fire. In the
morning there was the getting of the Time Machine.
Towards that, as yet, I had only my iron mace. But now,
with my growing knowledge, I felt very differently
towards those bronze doors. Up to this, I had refrained
from forcing them, largely because of the mystery on the
other side. They had never impressed me as being very
strong, and I hoped to find my bar of iron not altogether
inadequate for the work. The Time Machine
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IX
‘We emerged from the palace while the sun was still in
part above the horizon. I was determined to reach the
White Sphinx early the next morning, and ere the dusk I
purposed pushing through the woods that had stopped me
on the previous journey. My plan was to go as far as
possible that night, and then, building a fire, to sleep in the
protection of its glare. Accordingly, as we went along I
gathered any sticks or dried grass I saw, and presently had
my arms full of such litter. Thus loaded, our progress was
slower than I had anticipated, and besides Weena was
tired. And I began to suffer from sleepiness too; so that it
was full night before we reached the wood. Upon the
shrubby hill of its edge Weena would have stopped,
fearing the darkness before us; but a singular sense of
impending calamity, that should indeed have served me as
a warning, drove me onward. I had been without sleep for
a night and two days, and I was feverish and irritable. I felt
sleep coming upon me, and the Morlocks with it.
‘While we hesitated, among the black bushes behind
us, and dim against their blackness, I saw three crouching
figures. There was scrub and long grass all about us, and I The Time Machine
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did not feel safe from their insidious approach. The forest,
I calculated, was rather less than a mile across. If we could
get through it to the bare hill-side, there, as it seemed to
me, was an altogether safer resting-place; I thought that
with my matches and my camphor I could contrive to
keep my path illuminated through the woods. Yet it was
evident that if I was to flourish matches with my hands I
should have to abandon my firewood; so, rather
reluctantly, I put it down. And then it came into my head
that I would amaze our friends behind by lighting it. I was
to discover the atrocious folly of this proceeding, but it
came to my mind as an ingenious move for covering our
retreat.
‘I don’t know if you have ever thought what a rare
thing flame must be in the absence of man and in a
temperate climate. The sun’s heat is rarely strong enough
to burn, even when it is focused by dewdrops, as is
sometimes the case in more tropical districts. Lightning
may blast and blacken, but it rarely gives rise to
widespread fire. Decaying vegetation may occasionally
smoulder with the heat of its fermentation, but this rarely
results in flame. In this decadence, too, the art of fire-
making had been forgotten on the earth. The red tongues The Time Machine
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that went licking up my heap of wood were an altogether
new and strange thing to Weena.
‘She wanted to run to it and play with it. I believe she
would have cast herself into it had I not restrained her.
But I caught her up, and in spite of her struggles, plunged
boldly before me into the wood. For a little way the glare
of my fire lit the path. Looking back presently, I could see,
through the crowded stems, that from my heap of sticks
the blaze had spread to some bushes adjacent, and a curved
line of fire was creeping up the grass of the hill. I laughed
at that, and turned again to the dark trees before me. It
was very black, and Weena clung to me convulsively, but
there was still, as my eyes grew accustomed to the
darkness, sufficient light for me to avoid the stems.
Overhead it was simply black, except where a gap of
remote blue sky shone down upon us here and there. I
struck none of my matches because I had no hand free.
Upon my left arm I carried my little 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 the throb of the blood-vessels in my
ears. Then I seemed to know of a pattering about me. I
pushed on grimly. The pattering grew more distinct, and The Time Machine
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then I caught the same queer sound and voices I had heard
in the Under-world. There were evidently several of the
Morlocks, and they were closing in upon me. Indeed, in
another minute I felt a tug at my coat, then something at
my arm. And Weena shivered violently, and became quite
still.
‘It was time for a match. But to get one I must put her
down. I did so, and, as I fumbled with my pocket, a
struggle began in the darkness about my knees, perfectly
silent on her part and with the same 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 the white backs of the Morlocks in flight amid the
trees. I hastily took a lump of camphor from my pocket,
and prepared to light is as soon as the match should wane.
Then I looked at Weena. She was lying clutching my feet
and quite motionless, with her face to the ground. With a
sudden fright I stooped to her. She seemed scarcely to
breathe. 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 the shadows, I knelt down and lifted her.
The wood behind seemed full of the stir and murmur of a
great company! The Time Machine
118 of 148
‘She seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon
my shoulder and rose to push on, and then there came a
horrible realization. In manoeuvring with my matches and
Weena, I had turned myself about several times, and now
I had not the faintest idea in what direction lay my path.
For all I knew, I might be facing back towards the Palace
of Green Porcelain. I found myself in a cold sweat. I had
to think rapidly what to do. I determined to build a fire
and encamp where we were. I put Weena, still motionless,
down upon a turfy bole, and very hastily, as my first lump
of camphor waned, I began collecting sticks and leaves.
Here and there out of the darkness round 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 I felt
his bones grind under the blow of my fist. He gave a
whoop of dismay, staggered a little way, and fell down. I
lit another piece of camphor, and went on gathering my
bonfire. Presently I noticed how dry was some of the
foliage above me, for since my arrival on the Time
Machine, a matter of a week, no rain had fallen. So,
instead of casting about among the trees for fallen twigs, I The Time Machine
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began leaping up and dragging down branches. Very soon
I had a choking smoky fire of green wood and dry sticks,
and could economize my camphor. Then I turned to
where Weena lay beside my iron mace. I tried what I
could to revive her, but she lay like one dead. I could not
even satisfy myself whether or not she breathed.
‘Now, the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and
it must have made me heavy of a sudden. Moreover, the
vapour of camphor was in the air. My fire would not need
replenishing for an hour or so. I felt very weary after my
exertion, and sat down. The wood, too, was full of a
slumbrous murmur that I did not understand. I seemed
just to nod and open my eyes. But all was dark, and the
Morlocks had their hands upon me. Flinging off their
clinging fingers I hastily felt in my pocket for the match-
box, and—it had gone! Then they gripped and closed
with me again. In a moment I knew what had happened. I
had slept, and my fire had gone out, and the bitterness of
death came over my soul. The forest seemed full of the
smell of burning wood. I was caught by the neck, by the
hair, by the arms, and pulled down. It was indescribably
horrible in the darkness to feel all these soft creatures
heaped upon me. I felt as if I was in a monstrous spider’s
web. I was overpowered, and went down. I felt little teeth The Time Machine
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nipping at my neck. I rolled over, and as I did so my hand
came against my iron lever. It gave me strength. I
struggled up, shaking the human rats from me, and,
holding the bar short, I thrust where I judged their faces
might be. I could feel the succulent giving of flesh and
bone under my blows, and for a moment I was free.
‘The strange exultation that so often seems to
accompany hard fighting came upon me. I knew that both
I and Weena were lost, but I determined to make the
Morlocks pay for their meat. I stood with my back to a
tree, swinging the iron bar before me. The whole wood
was full of the stir and cries of them. A minute passed.
Their voices seemed to rise to a higher pitch of
excitement, and their movements grew faster. Yet none
came within reach. I stood glaring at the blackness. Then
suddenly came hope. What if the Morlocks were afraid?
And close on the heels of that came a strange thing. The
darkness seemed to grow luminous. Very dimly I began to
see the Morlocks about me—three battered at my feet—
and then I recognized, with incredulous surprise, that the
others were running, in an incessant stream, as it seemed,
from behind me, and away through the wood in front.
And their backs seemed no longer white, but reddish. As I
stood agape, I saw a little red spark go drifting across a gap The Time Machine
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of starlight between the branches, and vanish. And at that I
understood the smell of burning wood, the slumbrous
murmur that was growing now into a gusty roar, the red
glow, and the Morlocks’ flight.
‘Stepping out from behind my tree and looking back, I
saw, through the black pillars of the nearer trees, the
flames of the burning forest. It was my first fire coming
after me. With that I looked for Weena, but she was gone.
