Weird Shadows Over Innsmouth

Corlson took out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to me, then nodded. “You seem to know a little more of this whole affair than I do,” he muttered, blowing smoke into the cold, still air. “Just what are these odd tales?”

I shrugged. “All I really know is what’s given in the file I got and what little I picked up in the last couple of weeks, talking to folk in Rowley. Seems some sea-captain, Obed Marsh, brought back this pagan religion from some uncharted island in the South Pacific back in the 1840s and, somehow, converted almost the whole town. Most of the creatures in Innsmouth are hybrids as a result of enforced mating with these natives and with those others, the Deep Ones, who supposedly live in some sunken city—Y’ha-nthlei —that lies on the ocean bottom off Devil Reef.”

“So these Deep Ones also interbred with the town’s inhabitants?” Corlson sounded incredulous.

“So they reckon. And they all worship this sea deity—Dagon.”

“God Almighty. This is far worse than anything we’ve come across before.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. In spite of the chill, he was sweating. “So what do you figure the government will do with these prisoners?”

“Keep them all locked up somewhere is my guess. Somehow, I doubt if much of this will ever be released to the general public.”

When we pulled out of Innsmouth five hours later, many of the old buildings and all of the wooden warehouses along the waterfront were still burning. More than three hundred of the citizens had been taken prisoner.

Later, we heard they had been transferred to special, isolated camps where they were to be interrogated and kept under constant observation. No details as to the exact whereabouts of these camps were to be released.

III

CONFIDENTIAL REPORT OF FEDERAL INVESTIGATOR WALTER C. TARPEY: MARCH 5, 1929

Following special orders received on February 12, 1928, I proceeded by train to Boston, Massachusetts, where I was informed that the government had decided to launch an armed raid on a small fishing port named Innsmouth, some distance along the coast from Arkham. Reports of bootlegging and smuggling of illegal immigrants had apparently been received from several quarters and my orders were to join a submarine, which was to patrol the coast of an island known locally as Devil Reef. This mission was to be co-ordinated with a land raid upon the town and our task was firstly to prevent any inhabitants escaping by sea (this in conjunction with three vessels of the coastguard) and second, to dive into the deep water off Devil Reef and carry out a survey of the ocean bottom in that region.

It was late afternoon when we were piloted out of the harbour and heading out to sea. Conditions inside the submarine were Spartan and cramped, with little room in which to move. We rode on the surface, accompanied by the other three vessels, the convoy heading north within sight of the coast.

Commander Lowrie had seen service during the war, as had several members of the crew. Apart from myself, however, no one on board knew any details of our mission when we set out, Lowrie having been given sealed orders not to be opened until we were at sea.

Once we arrived offshore from Innsmouth, three of the crew were ordered above, one to man the machine-gun and two others to act as lookouts for any of the townsfolk attempting to escape by boat. With Lowrie’s permission, I accompanied them, struggling to maintain my balance against the rolling of the vessel. There was an unusually heavy swell between the shore and Devil Reef, the latter an irregular mass of rock about two miles from the distant harbour.

The night was very still but bitterly cold and I was glad of my thick parka. Despite the darkness, the sky was clear and it was just possible to make out a scattering of lights in the town and at least three fires had been started among the shadowy warehouses that stood along the waterfront.

A sudden hoarse shout from one of the lookouts near the conning tower brought me swiftly around. He was pointing urgently, not in the direction of the town, but out to sea. For several moments, I could make out nothing in that direction to account for his actions. Then, dimly, I saw numerous black shapes in the water, heading towards us from Devil Reef.

Somehow, O’Brien managed to turn the unwieldy machine-gun. Not a moment too soon, he opened fire, swinging the weapon expertly from side to side in a wide arc. Several of the shapes disappeared beneath the waves although it was impossible to determine whether they had been hit. Others still came on and, for the first time, I made out something of their outlines. Those I could see were not even remotely human in appearance. More like fish, but with humanoid bodies and legs, they came surging through the water in a relentless, black tide.

“Get down below!” Somehow, I managed to force the numbness of shock from my round and get the words out. “You can’t possibly stop them all, even with that weapon.”