Soon it became obvious that a large party of creatures were moving rapidly in our direction and, a moment later, I picked out more normal sounds superimposed upon the obnoxious mutterings—the shouts of men—and guessed that part of the force which had landed on the beach were close on the heels of these unnatural abominations.
A couple of minutes later, stabbing torchlight showed along the walls of the tunnel, highlighting the large group of Deep Ones now almost upon us. In the confined space of the tunnel with a squad of our own men at the rear, we were unable to open fire on the creatures. Using their bayonets and the butts of their rifles, the Marines clubbed most of them as they struggled to break through our lines. Caught between the two forces, they were speedily overcome. The pitched battle lasted for less than ten minutes.
At the end of that time, seventeen prisoners had been taken, the remainder lying dead on the floor of the tunnel. Three of our force had been killed, their throats slashed.
Linking up with the group from the seaward end of the tunnel, we moved back to where we had left the other prisoners with their two guards. Here we came upon a scene of utter carnage.
It was all too clear what had happened. Those creatures which had escaped us by diving into the pool had returned and clearly in overwhelming numbers. The captives were gone but more than a score of the creatures lay dead on the rocks where the guards had cut them down before being overwhelmed. Of the two men, however, there was no sign. Evidently they had been overpowered after their ammunition had run out and had been dragged into the water.
Corlson gave a muttered oath as he surveyed the scene. “I should have foreseen this might happen,” he gritted. “God knows, there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of those creatures somewhere out there in the deep water.”
I tried to reassure him. “You weren’t to know this might happen,” I told him. “None of us were given any warning of the scale of this—infestation. They’re like rats in the sewers.”
For a moment I thought that, in his anger at what had happened to his men, he was about to give the order to shoot those captives we had. Then he regained his self-control, rigid discipline took over, and he signalled us to make our way back to the surface.
Once in the town square, we paused to take stock of the situation. Large fires were now burning out of control at several sites, but the streets radiating from the square seemed oddly deserted. Either the majority of the citizens were now concealed in the deep cellars across town or had somehow succeeded in fleeing Innsmouth.
Sporadic firing could still be heard but for the most part the town seemed deathly quiet. Over towards the sea, the entire waterfront was now a mass of flame, the conflagration spreading rapidly inland as the fire consumed the ancient wooden buildings.
Corlson gave the order to his men to convey the prisoners to the trucks waiting at the north side of Innsmouth.
Once they were gone, he turned to me. “I reckon you’ll have to put in some kind of report to the Federal Bureau, Darnforth.”
Nodding, I said, “Whatever I put in it, there aren’t going to be many who’ll believe a single word. I can’t believe most of it myself. All of those nightmare creatures living here or coming up out of the sea! It’s against all nature.”
“We’ve got those captives,” the Lieutenant retorted grimly. “People will have to believe the evidence of their own eyes.” He threw a swift glance to where the last of the men were disappearing along Federal Street. “But what in the name of God are those—things? Where could they possibly have come from? One thing’s for sure, they’re not normal inhabitants of this town, no matter how much inbreeding there may have been in the past.”
“I guess the only way any of this makes sense is if you believe in the stories that have been legion in this area concerning Innsmouth for nearly a century,” I told him. “If it wasn’t for what I’ve witnessed tonight, I’d have said they were nothing more than pure myth and superstition. Now I know different.”
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.