I threw my colleague a quick glance at that point. Closing the file in front of me, I said, “Well, Mister Olmstead, thank you for your information. We’ll certainly pass it on to the proper quarter. It will then be up to our superiors as to what action, if any, needs to be taken.”
When he had gone, McAlpine and I sat looking at each other in silence. I had little doubt that something had occurred in Innsmouth to have frightened Olmstead so much that it had sent him running for his life along the abandoned railway line to Rowley.
Once our report had been sent to the Bureau, we heard nothing more until I received orders to report to a Major Fenton, a war veteran, in Boston where I was to place myself under his command.
He turned out to be a short, stocky man in his late forties with dark hair already showing signs of grey.
Taking me aside, he said gruffly, “I’ll expect the fullest co-operation from you. You’ll already know something of what’s been planned. I also understand you know a little about Innsmouth.”
“Only what I’ve read in the preliminary file and what I’ve learned from Robert Olmstead,” I told him.
Without making any further comment, he signalled to one of the officers accompanying him.
A map was spread out on the table and he motioned me forward. “This is the road from Arkham.” He traced the outline with his forefinger. “As you see, it enters Innsmouth along Federal Street and continues all the way to the town centre. That’s the route we’ll take. At the same time, a second force, including the Marine Corps, will enter from the west, while others will go ashore and come in through tunnels which were used for smuggling in the old days.”
“And if some of the inhabitants try to escape by boat?” I asked.
He gave a grim smile. “We’ve taken that possibility into account. Three ships will be patrolling the shoreline. They’ll take care of anyone attempting to get away by boat.”
Leaning forward, he stabbed a finger at the map. “One other thing. There may be no truth in this but we do know there’s been a lot of activity here, near Devil Reef. For more than a century, contraband has been landed on this reef. It’s a dangerous place for vessels but apparently the old sea-captains brought natives and other illegal goods there before ferrying them ashore. More importantly as far as we’re concerned, there’s a two-thousand-foot drop there down to the ocean floor.”
He paused, as if for dramatic effect. Personally, I couldn’t see what he was getting at.
“I don’t believe half of this myself,” he continued, almost apologetically, “but from scraps of information we’ve gathered from a couple of Federal agents who did return from Innsmouth, there’s talk in that town of some sunken remains on the seabed in that region.”
“What sort of remains?” asked one of the officers.
Fenton looked across at me. “You’ve read the file which was given you some weeks ago. You’ll know that every Christian religion has been outlawed in Innsmouth. Everybody there belongs to this weird cult, the Esoteric Order of Dagon. They actually worship this god and believe a sunken city lies at the bottom of the sea, just off the reef. A city they call Y’ha-nthlei, where this Dagon lives.”
“Surely you don’t believe that, sir,” said the officer.
“I only believe what I can see, Lieutenant. Nevertheless, someone in the government seems to take it all seriously. A submarine has been ordered to dive down towards the sea bottom and take a look. If there is anything there, they have enough torpedoes on board to blast it to Hell and back.”
* * *
Two days later, I was in a convoy of ten Army trucks approaching the outskirts of Innsmouth. It was now dark and the vehicle moved without any lights showing. Each of us had received specific orders before we set out. We would stop at the end of Federal Street and from there proceed to the building which housed the Esoteric Order of Dagon, where half of our force would then move off to occupy the Marsh mansion on Washington Street.
Reaching the end of Federal Street, we disembarked. A few dim streetlights shone along its length but nothing showed in any of the once-grand Colonial buildings as we passed, moving from one shadowed doorway to the next. Within five minutes we were within sight of our objective. The building stood facing an open space covered in rough grass. It boasted several massive pillars with the name still visible above the pediment. Its original use as the Masonic Temple still showed where the set square and pair of compasses of that Order, although partially obliterated by time, were still visible.
Sending twenty men to watch the rear of the building, Major Fenton led the rest of us towards the front door. Not bothering to check whether or not it was locked, he gave the order to smash it down. The rusted hinges yielded readily and, switching on our torches, we rushed inside. A sharp, fishy stench met us, catching horribly at the back of my throat.
In the torchlight we saw that the large lower room was empty apart from a long table flanked by two high-backed chairs.
Then, without warning, a door at the far end of the room suddenly burst open and a horde of dark figures poured into the room. For a moment, I stood absolutely still, abruptly shocked by what the wavering torchlight revealed. I had expected the citizens of this town to offer some resistance to our invasion, but this was something neither I, nor any of the others, had been prepared for.
Only their apparel was normal. They moved forward with a hideous hopping, slithering gait and there was something bordering on the ichthyic, or batrachian, about their leering features. Huge, bulging eyes glared unwinkingly at us from beneath sloping foreheads. Their skin, what little we could see of it, appeared scaled and the wide mouths reminded me of frogs. I think we had all anticipated finding some signs of degeneracy among these folk, but nothing like this.
How such monstrosities had come into being, I was unable to guess. Certainly, the tales of mixed breeding with another race seemed to have some basis in fact.
Uttering guttural croaking sounds, utterly unlike human speech, they threw themselves upon us. Several were clubbed with rifle butts as they attempted to force us back towards the door. Five minutes later, it was all over. Six of them had been killed and the rest were securely tied up. We had lost two men, their faces and chests ripped to shreds by webbed, taloned hands.
Leaving three men to watch the captives, the rest of us followed Major Fenton through the far door. Here there was a flight of stone steps leading down below street level with a faint light just visible at the bottom. The sight which confronted us there was one which shocked all of the warmth from my limbs.
The room was large, even bigger than the one above, decked out in tattered tapestries, all depicting some repellent forms of marine life; giant, octopoid creatures, malformed denizens of the deep and, worst of all, creatures which had the shape of men but with webbed hands and feet and features not dissimilar to those creatures we had just encountered!
The light came from several burning brands set in metal brackets around the walls and by their light we made out the huge altar at the far end, flanked by two massive statues. One was clearly male, the other female—but beyond that they bore no resemblance to anything I had ever seen before.
“What in the name of all that’s holy is this place?” Fenton muttered hoarsely, speaking to no one in particular.
Somehow, I forced myself to speak. “I reckon it’s obvious, Major. This is their temple where they worship this heathen god—Dagon. God alone knows what rites they hold down here.”
Fenton’s face twisted into a scowl. “Put a light to it,” he ordered tersely. “I’ve seen enough.”
By the time we left the building the flames had taken a firm hold. Through the billowing smoke, we emerged into the street. Already, the sound of rifle fire was coming from several positions around the town centre. Since our orders had been to fire on these people only as a last resort, it was clear that other units had run into serious trouble.