Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
It was only when with a sigh of pleasure I lowered it slowly again that
over the rim as it sank there dawned upon me the vision of a Martian
standing by an empty canoe on the edge of the water and regarding me
with calm amazement. I was, in fact, so astonished that for a minute
the empty pot stood still before my face, and over its edge we stared
at each other in mute surprise, then with all the dignity that might be
I laid the vessel down between my feet and waited for the newcomer to
speak. She was a girl by her yellow garb, a fisherwoman, it seemed,
for in the prow of her craft was piled a net upon which the scales of
fishes were twinkling--a Martian, obviously, but something more robust
than most of them, a savour of honest work about her sunburnt face
which my pallid friends away yonder were lacking in, and when we had
stared at each other for a few moments in silence she came forward a
step or two and said without a trace of fear or shyness, "Are you a
spirit, sir?
"Why," I answered, "about as much, no more and no less, than most of
us."
"Aye," she said. "I thought you were, for none but spirits live here
upon this island; are you for good or evil?"
"Far better for the breakfast of which I fear I have robbed you, but
wandering along the shore and finding this pot boiling with no owner, I
ventured to sample it, and it was so good my appetite got the better of
manners."
The girl bowed, and standing at a respectful distance asked if I would
like some fish as well; she had some, but not many, and if I would eat
she would cook them for me in a minute--it was not often, she added
lightly, she had met one of my kind before. In fact, it was obvious
that simple person did actually take me for a being of another world,
and was it for me to say she was wrong? So adopting a dignity worthy
of my reputation I nodded gravely to her offer. She fetched from the
boat four little fishes of the daintiest kind imaginable. They were
each about as big as a hand and pale blue when you looked down upon
them, but so clear against the light that every bone and vein in their
bodies could be traced. These were wrapped just as they were in a
broad, green leaf and then the Martian, taking a pointed stick, made a
hollow in the white ashes, laid them in side by side, and drew the hot
dust over again.
While they cooked we chatted as though the acquaintance were the most
casual thing in the world, and I found it was indeed an island we were
on and not the mainland, as I had hoped at first. Seth, she told me,
was far away to the eastward, and if the woodmen had gone by in their
ships they would have passed round to the north-west of where we were.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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