would neither confirm nor deny any of the rumors.
There was one man, however, who might talk.
Matt Eliot, first mate on the Sumatra Queen, was known to frequent the inn on Water Street whenever he was in port, and it was from him that I hoped to learn something.
It was two weeks before an opportunity presented itself. Entering the inn just after dark, I spotted Eliot in the far corner, among the shadows, and for once he appeared to be without his usual drinking companions. After purchasing two drinks, I walked over and sat in the chair opposite him. He clearly had had a lot to drink although the hour was still early.
I knew him to be a man of violent temper, readily aroused, one who had to be approached with caution and diplomacy.
Setting the drink down in front of him, I sat back and studied him closely for several moments. I wanted him to be sufficiently drunk to talk, but not too drunk to fall into a stupor. For a time, he gave no indication that he had noticed my presence. Then his hand went out for the glass and he took several swallows, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
Leaning forward, he peered closely at me. Then he grinned. “Jedediah Allen, ain’t it?”
I nodded. “I’d like to talk with you, Matt,” I said. “About these voyages you go on with Captain Marsh. Where’d he get all that gold? I’d like to buy some of it for myself.”
His eyes opened and closed several times before he replied, “Reckon you’ll have to speak to Obed about the gold. He keeps all of that for himself.”
“But you do know where he gets it.”
“O’ course I do. Every man on those ships knows where that gold comes from.” He leaned forward a little further, pushing his face up to mine, and dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Every trip he makes, Obed sails for Othaheite. Couple o’ years ago, we came across an island to the east not shown on any of our charts. The natives there, the Kanakys, worship some kind o’ fish-god, and they get all the fish and gold they want in exchange for sacrifices to this heathen god. Obed gives ’em beads and baubles for it.”
He took another swallow of his drink. “There’s somethin’ else, somethin’—”
He broke off abruptly as if suddenly aware he was on the point of saying something he shouldn’t.
“Go on,” I urged. “This is just between you and me, Matt.”
“There’s another island close to that where the Kanakys live. That’s where they offer their sacrifices. Obed got me and two others to row him out there one night. God, it was horrible. Not just the ruins that looked as if they’d lain on the bottom of the sea for millions of years, but what we heard and saw while we were there, on the other side of the island. Things comin’ up out o’ the sea like fish and frogs, only they walked on two legs like men, croakin’ and whistlin’ like demons.”
I saw him shudder at the memory. “Obed never went back to that accursed island again. I reckon even he was scared by what we saw.”
Finishing my drink, I thanked him for his information and left. As a staunch member of the Baptist Church, I knew that it was my duty to warn others of Marsh’s activities. But without proof, it was doubtful if I would be even listened too. Obed was a prominent figure in town and after all, it had long been an established practice for sea captains to exchange goods with the natives of these far-flung islands. Before I could tell anyone, I needed to know a lot more about what Obed was bringing into Innsmouth apart from gold.
It was then I decided to wait for his return from his latest voyage. I already knew that both the Hetty and the Columbia had sailed some seven months previously, leaving the Sumatra Queen tied up at the harbor for repairs.
Over the next few weeks, I made discreet inquiries concerning these ships, and finally ascertained they were due off Innsmouth some five weeks later. I had already decided upon the best vantage point to maintain a close watch on any activity without exposing myself to view. Accordingly, on the night in question, I made my way along Water Street to the harbor. The night was dark and starlit with no moon, and I let myself into one of the large warehouses lining the waterfront.
Going up to one of the upper storeys, I crouched down by the window from where I had a clear and unrestricted view of the entire harbor. Although dark, there was sufficient starlight for me to readily make out the irregular black outline of Devil Reef perhaps a mile and a half away.
It was almost midnight when I spotted the two ships rounding Kingsport Head. The Columbia was in the lead with the Hetty about half a mile astern. Twenty minutes later, after following the movements of the two vessels closely, it became apparent that Marsh meant to bring them both into the harbor rather than anchor offshore.
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; 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. It is 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 center 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 harbor. 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 recognized 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
