Concerning Lt Roger Carver’s description of Wells as a ‘fabulist-turned-historian’. Some of the contempt may be due to Wells’ Socialist ideals which Carver abhorred. In defence of Wells’ own account, Wells himself was not a witness to what occurred, and appears to have relied on his brother recollections @hgwellsbro.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:13 GMT
As per Admiral Kerr’s orders, I had taken a small detachment of the ship’s marines ashore to meet the Royal Party at a private pier just outside Bradwell Waterside, where Turbina was tied up, awaiting its passengers. Thunder Child stood patiently offshore, smoke curling up from her stack.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:15 GMT
The Martians had swept into London from the southwest, cutting it off from the rest of the country. They drove humanity before them, like lambs to the slaughter. Standing on the pier, we watched a steady stream of humanity clatter by, increasing in size throughout the day. Mr. Farmer would certainly appreciate this.
Some refugees were on foot; many passed us on horseback, bundled into wagons and carriages, and even on bicycles doubtlessly driven by the sounds of artillery in the distance. We drew sullen stares but our line of fixed bayonets and men in khaki had thus far dissuaded anything beyond.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines Officer, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:35 GMT
Finally, we heard the clatter of multiple hooves, the whinny of horses, and the rattle of carriage wheels, and the angered calls, of “Make way! Make way!”
Within a few minutes a black carriage with drawn curtains arrived, escorted by a squadron of dusty Horse Guards with carbines hanging from their saddles.
A young Horse Guards lieutenant in his dirty red serge dismounted, hand on his calvary sabre. He marched up to me parade ground style and saluted crisply. “Sir, I transfer my charges into your custody.”
I returned his salute. “Accepted.”
The carriage door slowly opened.
We snapped to attention. A diminutive figure, shrouded in black stepped out, escorted by a pair of ladies in waiting, and a frowning man, presumably her bodyguard. She stopped in front of the lieutenant and took his hand. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Thus, in her Diamond Jubilee Year of 1897, Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Empress of India, and Head of the Commonwealth fled England.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:37 GMT
Lt Carver signals by heliograph the Royal Party is safely away. Mr. Farmer reports wireless interference continues.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:40 GMT
We watched Turbina pull away from the pier. As the yacht and its royal passenger moved speedily into the busy estuary under the protective gaze of the Thunder Child, I said to Sergeant Howard, “Get the men on the whaleboat and castoff.”
A sudden shout made me turn around. A Martian tripod towered menacingly above the forest behind us.
“Belay that!” I ordered, with an eye on the looming Martians.
I tossed the mooring rope to the cox’n. “Get that whaleboat away!” Then turning to Howard and the Horse Guards lieutenant. “Get your men to cover!”
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:41 GMT
Look out reports sighting Martian fighting-machine ashore, now joined by a second. Captain orders battle stations.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:43 GMT
Look out reports whaleboat pulling away from pier without Mr. Carver and his shore detail. Third Martian machine sighted, moving towards its companions.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:44 GMT
Along with the other men, Sergeant Howard, the Horse Guards lieutenant, and I crouched low behind a stone wall. The civilians around us rushed about pell-mell, ignoring our example. I looked over the wall: the three Martians had linked up on the beach.
I watched as the Martians waded into the Blackwater, calling out, Ulla! Ulla!”
The shipping around them tried to scatter. I saw one of the tripods raise a giant leg and step on a fishing smack full of screaming people, driving it underwater.
“Inhuman monsters!” seethed the Lieutenant. He tried to stand up, but Howard and I grabbed him and held him fast.
“Stay down,” I growled. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
“You saw them! If mere men can’t stop them, what hope is there?”
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:50 GMT
Martians moving towards a sidewheel passenger ferry. Captain orders all ahead full, setting course to intercept the enemy. Crew reports ready for action in all respects. Light mist hinders visibility.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:53 GMT
In the mist, the three Martians stood in the middle of the estuary, seemingly transfixed by the sight of the hapless channel ferry, loaded down with terrified passengers. They towered above the little boat as its sidewheels churned and smoke poured from its stack.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:54 GMT
Mr. Farmer observes the enemy hasn’t noticed our approach.
Captain replies they won’t be given the chance and orders full speed ahead.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:55 GMT
“Ulla! Ulla!” The trumpeting Martian chorus overlapped the panicked cries from the passengers on the ferry as the enemy pondered their next victims. The pour souls: they were doomed, and they knew it.
“Look!” shouted Howard.
From out of the fog, came Thunder Child.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:56 GMT
Captain orders ‘prepare to ram’.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:57 GMT
Like a knife, Thunder Child’s bow slid into legs of the first tripod, causing it to tumble into the water. Smoke pouring from its stack, the battleship plowed forward into the legs of the second Martian, which scarcely had time to react.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:58 GMT
Along with Howard and the young Lieutenant, I got to my feet, open-mouthed. Thunder Child was still afloat, low in water by the bow, with a crumpled Martian tripod laying across her forward decks. The remaining tripod stood a distance away in the fog, as if stunned.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:59 GMT
Bridge wrecked by impact with Martian machines. Captain unconscious. Mr. Farmer in command. Foreword turret not responsive. Flooding in forward spaces. Engine room responding to bridge commands.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 17:00 GMT
“Good old Thunder Child!” shouted Howard.
“Is anyone still alive on her?” asked the Lieutenant.
Smoke curled from the battleship’s crushed smokestack as it began to move forward. Plainly life remained on her. The last Martian began to move, bringing its Heat Ray to bear.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 17:02 GMT
Remaining Martian war machine off our bow. Mr. Farmer orders full speed ahead.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 17:05 GMT
I felt a sickening lurch in my gut as the Martian fired, causing the length of the ship to erupt into the flame. But it was too late. Carried by momentum, if nothing else and the spite of a dead hand on the helm, Thunder Child barrelled head-long into the tripod’s legs.
The Martian collapsed forward onto Thunder Child as the burning ship swept under its legs. At the same time, an explosion from below decks caused Thunder Child to explode like a bomb, leaving its debris to rain down us.
“The boilers, “said Howard. He quietly crossed himself. “Almost as if she were waiting.”
From the personal log of Admiral Sir Walter Kerr, C in C, Channel Squadron, aboard HMS Majestic, 10 June 1897, 17:20 GMT:
Lookouts report HMS Thunder Child lost, presumably with all hands after destroying three Martians. My commendation for her captain and crew shall note that they gave their lives in the performance of their duties.
From the personal log of Captain Charles Parson, RNR, Commanding HMS Turbina, 10 June 1897, 18:02 GMT:
The coast was behind us in the haze. I became aware of someone clearing her throat behind me on the bridge. I turned around: Her Majesty, Empress of India, Queen Victoria stood before me. “Y-your Majesty?”
“Tell me Captain,” she smiled. “How long would it take us make Aberdeen?”