Перші люди на Місяці
Chapter 21 — Mr. Bedford at Littlestone
AftersomewrigglingandshovingImanagedtocrawloutuponsand,overwhichtheretreatingwavesstillcameandwent.
Ididnotattempttostandup.Itseemedtomethatmybodymustbesuddenlychangedtolead.MotherEarthhadhergriponmenow—noCavoriteintervening.Isatdownheedlessofthewaterthatcameovermyfeet.
Itwasdawn,agreydawn,ratherovercastbutshowinghereandtherealongpatchofgreenishgrey.Somewayoutashipwaslyingatanchor,apalesilhouetteofashipwithoneyellowlight.Thewatercameripplingininlongshallowwaves.Awaytotherightcurvedtheland,ashinglebankwithlittlehovels,andatlastalighthouse,asailingmarkandapoint.Inlandstretchedaspaceoflevelsand,brokenhereandtherebypoolsofwater,andendingamileawayperhapsinalowshoreofscrub.Tothenorth-eastsomeisolatedwatering-placewasvisible,arowofgauntlodging-houses,thetallestthingsthatIcouldseeonearth,dulldabsagainstthebrighteningsky.WhatstrangemencanhaverearedtheseverticalpilesinsuchanamplitudeofspaceIdonotknow.Theretheyare,likepiecesofBrightonlostinthewaste.
ForalongtimeIsatthere,yawningandrubbingmyface.AtlastIstruggledtorise.ItmademefeelthatIwasliftingaweight.Istoodup.
Istaredatthedistanthouses.ForthefirsttimesinceourstarvationinthecraterIthoughtofearthlyfood.“Bacon,”Iwhispered,“eggs.Goodtoastandgoodcoffee....AndhowthedevilamIgoingtogetallthisstufftoLympne?”IwonderedwhereIwas.
