foremost vessel was drifting some fifty feet above the ground and soon it became evident that it would strike the face of the buildings about a mile south of our position. As the craft neared the building, and just before it struck, the Martian warriors swarmed upon it from the windows of the building it seemed destined to touch. They eased the shock of the collision with their great spears. In a few moments, they threw out grappling hooks and hauled the big boat to ground.
After making it fast, they swarmed the sides and searched the vessel from stem to stern. I could see them examining the dead sailors, evidently for signs of life. A party of them appeared from below dragging a little figure among them. The creature was considerably less than half as tall as the green Martian warriors. I surmised that it was some new and strange Martian monstrosity with which I did not become acquainted yet.
They removed their prisoner to the ground and then commenced a systematic rifling of the vessel. This operation required several hours. During this time a number of the chariots were requisitioned to transport the loot, which consisted in arms, ammunition, silks, furs, jewels, strangely carved stone vessels, and a quantity of solid foods and liquids, including many casks of water.
After that operation, the last warrior to leave the desk[43] turned and threw something back upon the vessel. A faint spurt of flame rose from the point where the missile struck. He swung over the side and was quickly upon the ground and the guy ropes were simultaneously released. The great warship, lightened by the removal of the loot, soared majestically into the air, her decks and upper works a mass of roaring flames.
Slowly she drifted to the southeast, rising higher and higher as the flames ate away her wooden parts. I watched her for hours, until finally she was lost in the dim vistas of the distance. The sight of this mighty floating funeral pyre was awe-inspiring. It drifted unguided and unmanned through the lonely wastes of the Martian heavens.
I slowly descended to the street. I was much depressed. I had a feeling that it was the forces of a kindred people rather than a horde of unfriendly creatures who was defeated and annihilated. Somewhere in the innermost recesses of my soul, I felt a strange yearning toward these unknown foemen.
We decided to stay in the deserted city for another week as there was danger of a return attack by the air craft. Lorquas Ptomel was too astute an old warrior to be caught upon the open plains with a caravan of chariots and children.
When I emerged upon the street, Sola rushed to me as if she was searching for me. Woola, the hound was also following me. We entered the plaza and I saw something that filled my whole being with a great surge of mingled hope, fear, exultation, and depression, and yet most dominant was a subtle sense of relief and happiness. As we neared the throng of Martians I caught a glimpse of the prisoner from the battle craft.
The sight that met my eyes was that of a slender, girlish figure, similar in every detail to the earthly women of my past life. She turned, and her eyes met mine. She was extremely beautiful. Her face was oval, her every feature was finely chiseled and exquisite, her eyes large and lustrous and her head surmounted by a mass of coal black, waving hair, caught loosely into a strange yet becoming coiffure. Her skin was of a light reddish copper color, her cheeks glowed and the lips shone like a ruby. She was entirely naked except her intricate ornaments and one could see the beauty of her perfect and symmetrical figure.
As she saw me, her eyes opened wide in astonishment. She made a little sign with her free hand; a sign which I did not, of course, understand. The look of hope and renewed courage in her eyes faded into one of utter dejection, mingled with loathing and contempt. I realized she made an appeal for help and protection. But my unfortunate ignorance prevented me from answering it. And then she was dragged out of my sight into the depths of the deserted edifice.
IX. I Learn the Language
When I came back to myself, I looked at Sola. She witnessed this encounter and I was surprised to see a strange expression upon her usually expressionless face. I did not know what she was thinking, because I just began to learn the Martian tongue. I knew enough only to suffice for my daily needs.
There was a strange surprise when I reached the doorway of our building. An armed warrior with arms, ornaments and full equipment of his kind approached me and gave them to me. He talked to me with a few unintelligible words. He was respectful and menacing at the same time.
Later, Sola remodeled the trappings to fit my lesser proportions with the aid of several of the other women. After they completed the work, I was garbed in all the panoply of war.
After that Sola instructed me in the mysteries of the various weapons. I spent several hours each day practicing upon the plaza with the young Martians. I was not yet familiar with all the weapons, but my great knowledge about similar weapons from Earth made me a quick learner and I progressed very fast.
Solely the women conducted my training with the young Martians. They were not only teaching the young about individual defense and offense, but also did a production of manufactures. They create all they need for the green Martians:the powder, the cartridges, the firearms. The females produced everything valuable. In the wartime, they form a part of the reserves and, if needed, fight with even greater intelligence and fury than the men.
The men learn higher branches of the art of war:strategy and the maneuvering of large units. They also make the laws; a new law for each emergency. These customs are old. The punishment for ignoring a custom is determined by individual treatment in a jury of the criminal's peers. I may say that justice is rarely wrong.
I did not see the prisoner again for several days after our first encounter. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of her when she was being conducted to the great audience chamber. I noted the unnecessary harshness and brutality by her guards; so different from the almost maternal Sola's kindliness to me.
I noticed that the prisoner exchanged words with her guards for two times when I saw her. That meant that they spoke, or at least could make themselves understood by a common language.
With this added incentive, I nearly drove Sola distracted by my importunities to hasten on my education. Within a few more days I was able fully communicate and understand practically all that I heard.
Three or four females and a couple of the recently hatched young Martians occupied our sleeping quarters at this time; Sola and her youthful ward, myself, and Woola the hound. It was customary[44] for the adults to carry on a desultory conversation for a short time before sleeping. I was always a keen listener because now I could understand their language, although I never proffered any remarks myself[45].
Once the conversation finally fell upon the prisoner. I was all ears[46] on the instant. I never dared to question Sola about the beautiful captive. I remembered the strange expression I noted upon her face after my first encounter with the prisoner. I did not know if it was jealousy, and I felt it safer to affect indifference judging by earthly standards. I wanted to learn more surely Sola's attitude toward the object of my solicitude.
Someone asked Sarkoja, one of the older women who shared our home and one of the prisoner's guards:
“When will we enjoy the death throes of the red one? or does our Jed Lorquas Ptomel intend holding her for ransom?”
“They decided to carry her with us back to Thark, and exhibit her last agonies at the great games before Tal Hajus,” replied Sarkoja.
“How will she die?” asked Sola. “She is very small and very beautiful; I hoped that they would hold her for ransom.”
Sarkoja and the other women grunted angrily at this evidence of weakness on the part of Sola.
“It is sad that you were not born a million years ago, Sola” snapped Sarkoja, “when all the hollows of the land were filled with water, and the peoples were as soft as the stuff they sailed upon. We progressed to a point where such sentiments mark weakness and atavism in our day. It will not be well for you to let Tars Tarkas know your degenerate sentiments.