Weirder Shadows Over Innsmouth

By the time the vessels had docked, a further hour had passed. There was much activity on both ships and the tall figure of Captain Marsh was clearly visible. By shifting my position slightly, I was able to watch closely as the cargoes were unloaded onto the quayside. Much of it consisted of large bales, which were carried into the warehouse adjacent to that in which I had concealed myself. There was little talk among the men, much of the work being carried out in complete silence. After a while, the crews vanished along Water Street and only Marsh and one crewman were left on board the Columbia.

When they eventually disembarked they were carrying a large chest between them and it was this, I guessed, that contained more of the gold which Marsh was bringing back from that unnamed island in the South Seas.

I now had ample confirmation as to the source of this gold and, had Marsh continued merely with smuggling such trinkets, there was little that could be said against him. Prior to the war, during the privateering days, such activities were commonplace in Innsmouth and were certainly not frowned upon by the townsfolk.

* * *

By now, Marsh seemed to have fully accepted this pagan religion of those natives with whom he traded on a regular basis. He began to speak out vociferously against all of the religious communities, urging anyone who would listen to abandon their Christian faith and worship this pagan god, promising them wealth beyond their wildest dreams if they did so.

Had we all listened to the Reverend Joseph Wallingham, who entreated his congregation to have nothing to do with those who worshipped pagan gods and worldly goods, and had I known then what I was to discover the next time the Sumatra Queen returned from that accursed island, all of the ensuing madness might have been averted.

But few heeded the Reverend Wallingham, and it was a further year before that fateful night when the Sumatra Queen docked. Is it hard to say what gave me the notion that Obed Marsh was smuggling something more than gold into Innsmouth, or what brought to my mind the recollection of the old tunnels beneath the town, leading from the sea into the very centre of Innsmouth.

But remember them I did. For two nights I concealed myself on top of the cliff overlooking the shore, but without any untoward happenings. On the third night, however, a little before midnight, I observed a party of men moving along the beach from the direction of the harbour. It was clear the men believed themselves to be safe from prying eyes, for they carried lanterns and, as they drew near the entrance to one of the tunnels almost immediately below my hiding place, I recognised Obed Marsh in the lead, with Matt Eliot and five of the crew close behind.

But it was the sight of the others accompanying them that sent a shiver of nameless dread through me, so that I almost cried out. Without doubt they were natives brought back from that terrible island and, even in the dim light cast by the bobbing lanterns, I could see there was something distinctly inhuman about them.

Their heads were curiously distorted with long, sloping foreheads, out-thrust jaws and bulging eyes like those of a frog or fish. Their gait, too, was peculiar as if they were hopping rather than walking.

Trembling and shaking, I lay there and watched as the party entered the tunnel mouth and disappeared. Not until a full half-hour had passed was I able to push myself to my feet and stagger back into town.

God alone knew how many of those creatures Marsh had smuggled into Innsmouth under the unsuspecting noses of the population, concealing them somewhere in his mansion on Washington Street.

At the time, I could tell no one. Marsh had too tight a hold on all who sailed with him for any of them to talk. What dire purpose lay behind this wholesale importation of these natives, I couldn’t begin to guess. I knew full well there had to be a reason, but Marsh kept it to himself and none of the creatures were ever seen on the town streets, even after dark.

* * *

Over the next two years, whenever he was in town, March continued his tirade against the established churches and, when several of the leading churchmen unaccountably disappeared, it became abundantly clear that he intended to become the only force in Innsmouth. Those who did not join him also had a tendency to vanish in peculiar circumstances or were driven out of the town.

Then, suddenly and without warning, disaster struck Innsmouth. A terrible epidemic swept through the town, a disease for which there seemed no remedy. Hundreds, including my own wife, died during the outbreak. The few doctors could do nothing to stem the spread of the disease, merely declaring that it was one of foreign origin they had never encountered before. Almost certainly, they maintained, it had been brought into Innsmouth by one of the vessels trading with the Orient.