"By this time, our captain had quite forgotten his earlier smiles and was marching about the deck barking orders with a grim set to his features.
"'Fetch them up,' he shouted again although it was obvious that the cables were being brought back in as fast as the machinery could pull them. The last hint of red left the western sky and it was almost full dark by the time the cages showed at the water line and were swung up over the gunwales and onto the deck. And this time, despite the strain we'd all noted on the chains and winches, there was only the two, fully suited, divers, with no sign that they had brought any further treasures back with them from the sea floor.
"The suited men stood stock still, unnaturally so in my opinion, and the sea air took on a sudden chill that had not been apparent seconds earlier. Damp, cold, air washed through the vessel like a wave, and I smelled the stench of rot and decay in my nose and at the back of my throat, stronger even than Gault's rough tobacco. My feeling of foreboding grew almost too strong to ignore.
"'Get them out of that gear,' I shouted.
"One of the helmeted divers turned towards the sound. All I saw in the visor was darkness, and a swirling, deep-green flow that looked like the depths of the ocean.
"'You heard the man,' Gault added. 'Look lively, lads.'
One of the crew finally went to obey the captain's order, and stepped forward, reaching up as if to help remove the nearest diver's helmet from the suit. The diver finally moved, and threw out an arm as rigid as iron that struck the crewman in the chest. The poor, startled, chap flew, a good three yards across the deck to land with a crash in a pile of silver plate.
"'Gault,' I shouted. 'Keep your men back. This is in my domain now.'
"The helmeted figure turned at the shout. I saw only a shifting flow of what appeared to be green fluid behind the visor, and now I was sure of what I was seeing. There wasn't a man in there at all, or if there was he had been completely subsumed. What I was seeing was something of the Outer Darkness, something that had been sleeping in the cold dark; something that was now all too obviously awake."
*
"I moved quickly to fetch my box of defenses out onto the deck and had Gault and his men clear a space for me. The suited divers, or whatever things inhabited them, were moving sluggishly around, as if unsure of their surroundings. Several of Gault's men had already armed themselves with billhooks and iron bars and looked ready to set upon any attack if one came. But I had no time to observe; I knew that I had to get a defensive circle in place right smartish, before some God-awful doom descended and sent us all to the bottom to join the King's men already sleeping there.
"Even as I drew out the first circle in chalk, I heard the chanting rise in the air again, as distant as before, and still sounding like a choir singing against a wind. I turned my head, trying to pinpoint a source for the sound, but it appeared, impossibly, to be coming from every direction at once. The words were the same verse as I had heard the night before.
"'She sleeps in the deep, with the fish far below,'
"'She sleeps, in the deep, in the dark,'
"The rubber suited figures stopped moving, heads raised and cocked to one side, looking for all the world as if they were listening to the chanting. The green flowing fluid behind their visors surged and swirled ever faster as the voices grew louder.
"'She sleeps, and she dreams, in the deep, in the deep,'
"'And the Dreaming God is singing here she lies.'"
"By the time I finished the second of my outer circles, the divers were moving more purposefully, and they headed directly for the large mound of silver plate that sat pied high on the deck. Gault's men were not about to give up their share of the treasure lightly though. Two burly chaps, real bruisers that you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, moved to stand between the divers and the silver, blocking their path.
"The suited divers went through them as if they were nothing but children. A stiff arm caught one sailor in the chest and tossed him aside in a flailing rush of arms and legs to land hard on the deck. He stayed down and I saw that one of his legs was bent at a most unusual angle, broken in at least two places. The other sailor took a hammer blow to the head that felled him at the diver's feet in a heap like a broken doll.
"By this time I was laying out the pentacle and missed some of the next minute or so of action, but I heard it well enough. Cries of anger turned to wails of pain, there were loud cracks of heads hitting the deck and, above it all, the distant, but now louder, sound of the chanting.
"'Where she lies, where she lies, where she lies, where she lies,'
"By the time I had everything hooked up and switched on the valves, half a dozen of Gault's crew were strewn about, and the two divers, ignoring the wails and moans of the injured, had begun tossing the silver plate overboard.
"The valves blazed into life, sending rainbow washes of color across the deck, the hum as they brightened almost, but not quite, obscuring the sound of the chanting. I stepped into the circles. Three of Gault's men caught the gist immediately and stepped in beside me, but Gault was aghast at seeing his new found treasure, and his prospects of fame and fortune, being so wantonly tossed back into the deep. He now had a long-barreled pistol in one hand, and the crystal goblet he had shown to me earlier in the other.
"'By all that is holy,' he shouted. 'I will not let you take my prize so easily; not when I am so close.'
"I knew he was about to make a great mistake, but I did not have time to stop him. My shout was caught in my throat at the sound of his pistol shot. It hit the nearest diver full in the visor. The glass shattered, and darkness flowed out from the new hole, a green, fluid, darkness that washed across the decks as if alive.
"Gault was so astonished that he appeared to be rooted to the spot. I called for him, but he didn't hear me, so I did the only thing I could. I stepped out of the protections and ran across the deck, heading for the captain even as the green dark fluid surged and sent a wave toward the pair of us."
*
"I felt cold and dark and deep grip at me. The chanting appeared to rise to a crescendo. I heard it echo and boom, as if a thousand voices were singing inside my head.
"'The Dreaming God is singing where she lies.'
"Somehow I forced myself forward until I was within reach of the captain, and I stretched out a hand. It felt like I moved through thick molasses, but finally my fingertips met the material of his coat and it was as if a spell had been broken and I could move more freely. I grabbed his shoulder, and Gault came to his senses.
"Even then he tried to raise the pistol. I saw that he meant to shoot the other suited diver, but I knew there was no time for that. I dragged Gault backward, headed for the pentacle, and was able to get him to step over the drawn chalk circles before the wave of green washed against the defenses.
"I winced, expecting the circle, the pentacle, and perhaps even all of us left standing, to be washed away, but to my amazement the defenses held. The green darkness splashed against the outer circle, then hissed and boiled, turning to a misty steam that hung around the outside edge past the crystal valves. The valves themselves pulsed in time with the rhythm of the chanting, green, then blue, then yellow brightening and fading in turn as wave after wave of the swirling fluid broke against the circles and was repelled.
"It appeared we were safe, for now. But we were far from being out of danger.
"The green fluid washed forward and back across the deck, covering the whole surface from where we stood right up to the bow, traveling in a wave some three feet high. And where it passed, nothing was left behind it. Fallen men, machinery, and all of the piles of the captain's treasure were all washed away overboard. We heard it go, clattering and splashing over the sides, and felt the boat rock and sway under us as if taken in a heavy swell. The singing continued to echo around us, from everywhere and nowhere, more voices joined in song now, a great multitude of them.
"'She sleeps in the deep, with the f
ish far below,'
"'She sleeps, in the deep, in the dark,'
"There was one, last, surge, of green black water and I tasted salt spray at my lips, smelled rot and decay in my nose and throat. The valves of the pentacle all flared brightly at the same time, gleaming like small suns in the dark, then the boat stopped rocking, the choir stopped singing, and everything fell still and went quiet.
"The wave of green was gone, and the deck was clear of everything, everything except for the five of us standing in the pentacle, and the remaining rubber suited figure of the second diver."
*
"Gault was at my shoulder, looking out over the barren deck. Even the heavy housing of the pumps had been washed away, leaving only torn decking and bent gunwales to show it had ever been there, and there was not a single scrap of his treasure left save what he had in his hand. He still held the same crystal goblet with the silver base he had shown me earlier, the only remnant left of everything that had been brought up from below. He clutched it tight to his chest with his left hand as the rubber suited figure turned to face us.
"Once again we all saw a wash of green fluid stir and swirl behind the visor. The blue valve of the pentacle pulsed in time with the heavy, weighted, footsteps on the deck as the diver came towards us.
"Gault raised the pistol in his right hand and aimed directly at the approaching figure.
"'Don’t be daft, man,' I said. 'Don't you remember the last time you did something that stupid?'
"At first I thought he would take no heed of me, for his dander was well and truly up but then I saw his gaze soften, the rage ebbing away, and he nodded, lowering the weapon as the diver approached the outer circle of the defenses.
"The blue valve whined and blazed as the figure tried to step forward, but it could not penetrate the circle. It tried again, and again the blue valve flared, and held firm.
"'It appears we are at an impasse,' Gault said sardonically.
"The diver stood still but I got the impression, do not ask me how I knew, that there was something of some intelligence inside that damned suit. And even now it was calculating its advantage. But Gault was right; we were at somewhat of an impasse. We were all safe, for the time being, inside the circle, but with the suited diver, and the green darkness inside it, patrolling outside the defenses.
"'What now, Carnacki?' Gault asked, and I realized that he was looking to me for an answer. I saw that the remaining crewmen, despite being in somewhat of a funk, were waiting to hear my response.
"'We might manage to last out the night, if my battery holds its charge long enough,' I replied. 'I suggest we stay in the defenses and wait it out.'
"But as it turned out, we were not to be given the opportunity to try. The green inside the diver's visor swirled and surged and the far off singing started up again.
"'She sleeps in the deep, with the fish far below.'
"'She sleeps in the deep, in the dark,'
"The sea started to roil and bubble in a wide patch all around us, and The Mary Anne once more bucked and rolled, so much so that we were almost thrown off our feet and out of the pentacle entirely. Gault in particular had to be nimble on his toes to avoid stepping on the defenses' chalk lines.
"The old boat's timbers creaked alarmingly. Huge waves, seawater, not green darkness this time, sloshed across the forward half of the bow.
"'If we have a wave like that hit us here, we can say goodbye to the defenses,' I said.
"The front of the vessel went up alarmingly, then back down again, hard, with a splash and a shock that once again nearly sent us tumbling.
"'What more do you want from me!' Gault shouted into the darkness.
"The rubber suited diver stood outside the outer circle and put out a hand. I knew immediately what was needed.
"'Give it the goblet, man.'
"'I will not, Gault replied. 'I must salvage something from this debacle.'
"The boat rocked from side to side, almost turning over completely and the water seethed as if in a turmoil driven from below. The unseen choir bellowed.
"'Where she lies, where she lies, where she lies, where she lies,'
"'Give it the blasted goblet, man, before we all go to join the men of the King's barge.'
'Somewhere on the boat a timber cracked, louder than the noise Gault's pistol had made earlier, and The Mary Sue took on a definite port-side list.
"'We're taking in water, Cap'n,' one of the crewmen said, and that, more than anything else, enabled Gault to make up his mind. He stepped forward and, with the pistol aimed at the diver's body, handed over the goblet.
"The figure took it in its left hand and bent stiffly at the waist, as if bowing in acknowledgement. Then it turned away. It walked to the gunwale and went over head first, hitting the water with a loud splash. That was the signal for whatever storm had gripped us to abate as quickly as it had come. The sea fell still, the rocking ceased, although we still listed alarmingly to port, and the chanting diminished and faded until there was only the last line, echoing across the waters.
"'The Dreaming God is singing where she lies.'"
*
Carnacki stopped, his tale almost done.
"There is not much left to tell. We had enough crew remaining to ensure that the bally boat didn't sink, and Gault managed to get us underway enough to limp into Burntisland the next morning. After a breakfast where nobody had much to say, I took my leave, making a long, slow way home with my box of tricks and my luggage.
"As for Gault, he says he is down to his last penny, but that is a tale I have heard from him before and he has always come back from the brink. I have no doubt that I, and you chaps too, will be hearing again from our captain."
He ushered us to the door.
"Now, out you go."
Mr. Churchill’s Surprise
From the personal journal of Thomas Carnacki, 472 Cheyne Walk, Chelsea.
As I have mentioned elsewhere in these journals, there are several of my cases I cannot relate to Dodgson and the others at all. Some of them involve maintaining a degree of delicacy and decorum. For example, there is a great Lady of the land who would be most embarrassed should details of her involuntary nocturnal wanderings ever become public.
But there are other cases, often dark, often furtive, that I must by rights keep close to my chest. This is not because they are too alarming or disturbing for my good friends, but purely because if I did tell anyone, I would in all probability meet my end in a dark cell on bread and water for the rest of my natural life. That is, if I did not see the end of a hangman's rope first. Matters of national security are tricky things at the best of times, and when they call for my peculiar area of expertise, they tend to become even more peculiar still and even less available for public consumption.
My friend, Dodgson has written elsewhere of my infrequent encounters with the extraordinary Mr. Winston Churchill, and the matter I will relate here begins, and ends, with one such meeting. Or rather, it begins with a summons, one that would brook no argument.
*
I was expecting a parcel of books that Saturday morning, and when the knock came to the door in Cheyne Walk, I almost ran to answer, eagerly anticipating an afternoon of studious endeavor in my library among the pages of some new friends for my shelves. Instead I found a tall, heavily built lad on my doorstep.
At first glance I might have taken him for a policeman or a bruiser, for he had something of the manner of both, but his tone was polite, even cultured, as he handed me an envelope.
"I was told to pass this to you personally, sir," he said. "It is for your eyes only."
The envelope was plain, but of expensive paper and the handwritten note was done most elegantly in the blackest of black inks with not the slightest smudge on it. The wording of the note itself was equally as terse as the deliverer's message.
"I have sent my driver for you. Come immediately. It is of national importance."
I
suspected the name even before I read it. It was appended, simply, 'Churchill'. I knew the man well enough from our previous encounters to know he would not be an easy chap to refuse.
I took enough time to fetch an overcoat, a hat, and my pipe and tobacco. The burly young chap stood, stock-still, filling my doorway the whole time, and only moved aside to let me exit. Then I was, if not exactly bundled, enthusiastically encouraged into a waiting carriage and within seconds we were off and away, heading east at some speed along the Embankment.
I had the interior of the rather well appointed carriage to myself, the bearer of the telegram having stepped up to sit with the driver. Once we passed Westminster, and didn't stop at Parliament, but continued to head even farther east, I realized it might be a longer trip than I had anticipated.
To pass the time, I read the note again, but it told me nothing new beyond the fact that Churchill was a man who expected to be obeyed. I hadn't heard from him since our last encounter, but I remembered reading of his appointment as First Lord of the Admiralty in The Thunderer a month or so back. I wondered if this summons might had something to do with that, but I had insufficient facts to hand for such conjecture, and settled for lighting a pipe, trying to enjoy the journey, and not letting my curiosity turn to frayed nerves and a bad temper.
The carriage kept going along the north side of the river, past St. Paul's and London Bridge, past the Tower, and headed into the warren of old quays and warehouses of the docks. I was starting to regret not having partaken of a larger breakfast.
I was still wondering quite how far I might have to travel when the carriage finally came to a halt at an old boat shed that, once upon a time, must have been one of the largest on the docks. There were a score or more of the young, strapping, silent type of chaps around. Some of them had made some kind of attempt at disguising themselves in old, frayed and worn clothing in an effort to pass themselves off as dockhands. But they weren't fooling me. This was Churchill's work all right, and these were his lads. I guessed they were military, or rather, given Churchill's post, Navy chaps to a man, and they were hard men, trained to kill by the look of them. I decided I had better be on my toes and keep my nose clean as I stepped down from the carriage onto the quay.
Carnacki: The Edinburgh Townhouse and Other Stories Page 11