Carnacki: The Watcher at the Gate
Page 4
Cheyne Walk had come through with no apparent difficulties, and Carnacki was his usual ebullient self through another excellent supper. I had quite forgotten the flooding by the time we settled in our chairs in the parlor and got drinks charged and smokes lit. Carnacki, however, soon brought the recollection back to mind as he started his latest tale.
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“I trust you are all warm,” he began, “if not entirely dry. I am afraid I have to take some of the blame for that, although I assure you the matter was entirely out of my control from the very start.
“Our tale begins, not yesterday, but early on Wednesday evening, and it started, as all good tales do, very simply, with a knock on my front door. I knew immediately that this was no casual caller, for the old brass knocker was struck against the woodwork most firmly, ensuring that the sound could not be mistaken for anything but a caller who would not be leaving the doorstep until he was answered.
“I opened the door to a seafaring man of uncertain age and provenance. He had the leathery, wind-beaten skin of a habitual sailor, the requisite heavy twill jacket, and, as he entered, the rolling, balanced gait of a seasoned deck-walker in heavy seas. At first I took him for a foreigner, as his black hair showed thick curls under his cap, and his eyes were deep blue and most piercing. But when he spoke it was in perfect English, albeit with the slightest trace of an accent that I couldn’t quite place at that moment.
“‘You’ll be the man I’m after,’ he said. ‘I have a proposition for you, Mr. Carnacki. How do you feel about a bit of an adventure?’
“Now, you chaps know me: I’m not a man to turn away anyone with such an enticing opening gambit. I showed him through to the parlor, sat myself down in this very chair, and over what proved to be rather a lot of my best Scotch, heard the man out. I will tell you the tale as I was told it, although I will omit some of his more colorful language, for I fear our seaman did not just walk like a sailor, he also had the vocabulary of one.”
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“He introduced himself as Captain Gault. The name tickled something at the back of my mind, but I left it there for later rumination, and paid him my full attention.
“‘I’m not what you’d normally call a superstitious man,’ he began. ‘But when you’ve spent as much time at sea as I have, you come to realize that there’s more to life than just death and taxes. And I hear you are also of like mind, which is why I have sought you out, Mr. Carnacki. I seem to have taken on a cargo that I cannot unload, and it is vexing me something right sore. My boat is at dock in Greenwich as we speak. The cargo is down in the darkest hold, and my men won’t touch it for love nor money. I tried offering some coin around in the bars down at the dock, but even then, once they’d started down into the hold, they came up and out again right sharpish, and word soon spread. My boat is cursed, plain and simple. And if you don’t help me, Mr. Carnacki, sir, I will be broke, and boatless, afore the week is out.’
“Now, it will be obvious to you chaps as it was to me that the good captain had omitted a lot of detail that could be deemed relevant to the task at hand. But even as he sat there drinking my best Scotch, he refused to be drawn on the particulars, merely insisting that the thing could not be easily explained, but that all would be made clear if I would only accompany him to Greenwich and see for myself.
“I was of more than half a mind to throw him out on his ear, for I had not had my supper, and was feeling rather cranky. But I was also intrigued, so I pressed him further for more information. At first I thought he was going to leave of his own accord; then, he seemed to come to a decision and spoke just one word—but it was enough to ensure that when he headed for the door, I would follow eagerly.
“The word was Oannes.”
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“The captain was obviously less strapped for hard cash than he had intimated, for there was a carriage waiting at the curb, a handsome high one at that. I climbed up beside him, and after he instructed the driver to head for Greenwich, we set off at a fair clip along the embankment.
“My mind was a whirl of speculation. I wondered why an old sea-salt would come to me with a tale involving an ancient Babylonian deity. I wondered what form this curse had taken, and how it was affecting his vessel. And I wondered whether I would be able to partake of any supper that evening, or whether I was going to go hungry.
“As it turned out, the captain had ideas of his own in that direction. We were crossing London Bridge, and had been sitting smoking in silence for a good quarter of an hour, when he suddenly poked his head out of the window and shouted new instructions to the man up top. It was windy at that point, so I failed to catch what was said, but several minutes later we were driven into Borough Market and the carriage came to a halt outside the Market Porter.
“‘I could hardly drag you out without seeing to your well-being,’ Gault said as we entered the tavern. ‘Come, let me buy you one of the best pork pies in the city.’
“Over an ale and an admittedly very fine piece of pie, he filled in more of his story: just a scrap or two, but enough to give me food for thought as we set off on the final leg of the journey.
“‘I picked it up in Corfu,’ he said, without saying what it might be. ‘And I wish to God that I’d left it there. But the chaps at the British Museum will pay a pretty penny for it—enough to cover my costs on this trip and the next. So I need your help. All you can give me.’”
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“By the time we arrived in Greenwich it was almost nine, and I had already resigned myself to a late return home. The carriage deposited us beside a rather handsome wooden three-master with auxiliary steam engines. The name was clearly visible, but meant nothing to me: Threshold.
“‘She’s Dundee-built,’ Gault said proudly. ‘And she’ll sail through any weather thrown at her … if she’s allowed.’
“He led me up a long gangplank and onto what felt like a dead, empty, vessel.
“‘The crew, to a man, has taken lodgings in town tonight,’ Gault said, somewhat apologetically. ‘Come, Carnacki. Let me show you what has them so fearful—what we have here that requires your particular skills.’
“The deck echoed with our footsteps. It might have been only my imagination working overtime, but there seemed to be a depth and resonance to the sounds that should not have been present, a sinister timbre that spoke of an underlying dread. I was starting to understand the crew’s reticence, and perhaps even envy them their lodgings ashore, as I followed Gault into the bowels of the boat and down into a long dark hold that smelled of rum, stale beer and fish.
“At first I thought the whole space to be empty, but as we walked forward toward the prow the hold narrowed, the hull closing in on either side, and the smell of fish becoming ever stronger. The echoes took on a deep bass tone, seeming to ring like a church choir raised in song. Every part of me now wanted to flee to clearer air and silence, a blue funk that threatened to turn my legs to jelly. But Gault kept moving and my pride would not allow me to do otherwise.
“At the very narrowest part of the hold we finally came to our destination.
“Initially I took it to be Egyptian, for it had the look of a sarcophagus of that country’s ancient past. But on closer inspection, I saw that this was a far cruder structure, little more than a cube of stone, rudely carved in a script I had never before encountered. And as we got nearer I became aware of something else. The aura of dread was stronger still here; an almost physical presence … and it was something that I recognized; something I knew. A denizen of the Outer Darkness was in residence.
“‘Can you feel it?’ Gault said.
“I was almost too afraid to speak. I nodded in reply.
“‘Go ahead. Touch it,’ the captain said.
“I can assure you chaps, the last bally thing I wanted to do just then was to get any closer to the thing, but I had come this far. The time for circumspection was long past. I stepped forward and put my hand on the stone. I received an instant impression of clamminess and moisture.
“I might even be there yet, had Gault not taken it upon himself to slap me, hard, in the face.”
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“I am afraid to admit that I was in something of a daze at this point, and I remember little of the next few minutes, until I came to my senses sitting in a leather armchair in a well-appointed cabin with a glass of rum in my hand. Gault sat in a chair opposite. He passed me a most welcome cheroot that I struggled to light with trembling hands, and then, without preamble, he started to speak, filling in the parts of his tale he had omitted earlier.
“‘The thing has plagued our dreams since the start back in Corfu, and the crew has been without sleep for many days. There have been mutterings of mutiny since the beginning of the month, and last night matters came to a head. Three crewmen took it upon themselves to rid us of our tormentor.
“‘At least, they tried.
“‘Their screams in the dark alerted me to their plight and I was first to enter the hold. It is hard to describe the fear that gripped me as I saw the carnage the thing had wrought on my men. It was obvious that they had lifted the casket, probably intending to throw it overboard. But someone had dropped their end—that much is also obvious from a crack you may have spotted in the leftmost edge. I can only surmise that the jolt opened the casket—and let the beast out.
“‘What did not need conjecture was the fate of the men after that.
“‘A black ooze lay over the bodies like a wet blanket—one that seethed and roiled as if boiling all across the surface. Pustules burst with obscene wet pops, and flesh melted from bone, even as the men screamed and writhed in agony.
“‘Their pain did not last long. All too soon the blackness seeped in and through them until even their very bones were liquefied and, with a most hideous moist sucking, drunk up by the beast, which was now three times larger than before. It opened itself out, like a black crow spreading its wings, the tips touching each side of the hold walls.
“‘All along the inside surface of the wings wet mouths opened, and the air echoed with a plaintive high whistling in which words might be heard if you had the imagination to listen.
“‘My every instinct told me to turn and flee. But there was nowhere to escape to except the sea itself, and that was a choice no sailor would make. Instead I stood my ground while my coxswain brought forth some firebrands. Only then did the thing seem to cower and retreat. I called for a barrel of pitch and tried to hold the beast at bay with a brand until aid might arrive. My adversary had other ideas. Now that it was free of the casket, its powers had increased.
“‘The grip on my mind grew stronger.
“‘I saw vast plains of snow and ice where black things slumped amid tumbled ruins of long-dead cities. My head swam, and the walls of the hold melted and ran. The firebrand in my hand seemed to recede into a great distance until it was little more than a pinpoint of light in a blanket of darkness, and I was alone in a vast cathedral of emptiness.
“‘A tide took me, a swell that lifted and transported me, faster than thought, to the green twilight of ocean depths far distant.
“‘I realized I was not alone. We floated, mere shadows now, scores—nay, tens of scores of us, in that cold silent sea. I was aware that other sailors were nearby, but I had no thought for anything but the rhythm, the dance. Far below us, cyclopean ruins shone dimly in a luminescent haze. Columns and rock faces tumbled in a non-Euclidean geometry that confused the eye and brooked no close inspection. And something deep in those ruins knew we were there.
“‘And while our slumbering god dreamed, we danced for him, there in the twilight, danced to the rhythm.
“‘We were at peace.
“‘A flaring pain jolted me back to sanity. I smelled burning hair, but took several seconds to note that it was my own hand that had seared. The coxswain, stout fellow that he is, had broken the hold on me by touching his firebrand to my skin.
“‘I had no time to thank him, for the beast had drawn closer to me while I dreamed, and even now threatened to engulf me.
“‘Once again I held the firebrand ahead of me, and with the aid of the coxswain I held the beast at bay, struggling to keep its grip from settling on my mind. Indeed, if the barrel of pitch had not been brought, I might have succumbed.
“‘Burning the pitch enabled the recapture of the beast to proceed more rapidly. The heat from the flames threatened to set fire to the deck of the hold itself, but I refused to allow the men to put it out until we had driven the beast back into the casket.
“‘I have ensured that the box is sealed completely, and as you have seen, it is now stored at the furthermost end of the hold. All I can do is keep the crew as far away from it as is possible on this small vessel.
“‘That, and hope that in our dreams we do not fall again under its spell.
“‘But it is hard. For every time I close my eyes I dream, of vast empty seas, of deep black waters where there is nothing but endless dark, endless quiet. And while my slumbering god dreams, I dance for him, there in the twilight, dance to the rhythm. In my dreams I am at peace.
“‘It is seductive.’”
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“It took me several seconds to realize that his tale, at least as much as he desired to tell to me, was finished.
“‘Beast?’ I asked. ‘You mean there is a physical presence? Something alive inside the box?’
“Gault laughed, but there was little of any humor in it.
“‘Aye, and I’m a Chinaman if I tell a lie. There’s a beast all right. And a savage one at that.’
“Another thought struck me. ‘So why do you not just have your British Museum chaps come and haul the thing away?’
“His grin broadened. ‘Well, there’s two good reasons,’ he replied. ‘The first is that anyone who touches the bloody thing is instantly under its spell.’
“‘The other?’ I asked, but I already knew the answer, having read it in his face.
“‘I haven’t exactly informed anyone at the Museum of the box’s existence as yet,’ he said, and laughed. ‘I was hoping to take them by surprise, as it were.’
“His grin was so infectious that I had to laugh with him.
“‘I take it, then, that the goods are of, shall we say, dubious provenance?’
“‘You can say anything you like, Mr. Carnacki,’ he replied and poured me another rum. ‘Just get rid of whatever haunts that box and you shall share in whatever profit it makes me on its sale.’
“By this time it was well after ten in the evening. I would have been content to leave matters to the following day, but Gault was insistent; pleading, even.
“‘I wasn’t lying about the imminent threat of poverty,’ he said over another of his fine cheroots. ‘In my business there is only the thinnest of margins between prosperity and the gutter, and I am in danger of falling on the wrong side.’
“‘I will need my protections,’ I protested, but he waved that away.
“‘We can send my man back to Chelsea for whatever you need. I can vouch for his honesty, and will do so with my life … or his, whichever is most convenient.’
“I was growing to enjoy this straight-talking seafarer’s company, and allowed him to call his man from the carriage. We gave him his instructions, which were simple enough. ‘Pick up the long wooden box in my library and bring it to the boat,’ was the gist of what I had to say as I handed over my keys. Gault added some admonishments against straying from that course, and I heard grit and truth in his voice when he spoke of the punishment for transgression. I would not like to be the seaman to fall under this captain’s brand of defaulter’s code.
“After his man departed, Gault seemed somewhat more at ease, now that he had my word that I would help him. We chatted for several hours while sipping his rum. I refused a top-up several t
imes, realizing the need to keep my wits about me, but the captain had no such qualms. By midnight the better part of a bottle had gone down his gullet. He seemed none the worse for it and started to quiz me on any theories I might have on the nature of the thing in the hold.
“I replied with a question of my own. ‘You said a name, back in Chelsea,’ I said. ‘Oannes. What makes you think the box is Babylonian?’
“I knew as soon as I spoke that it had been a mistake to utter that name so close to the thing. My own voice seemed to echo back at me; taking on depth, resonating and vibrating, as if the hull itself had become one gigantic tuning fork.
“Gault merely smiled thinly. ‘It has taken to doing that rather too frequently for my liking.’ He took another hefty dose of rum and a long draw on his smoke before continuing. ‘But to answer your question … I only know what I was told when we loaded it. I was given that name, told it is ancient, from somewhere out of the old Persian empire. And I want it off my boat.’
“‘I can add something to that,’ I replied. ‘But it will only be conjecture at this point. Oan—’ I started, then quailed, remembering what had happened on saying the thing’s name. ‘The fish-god, I should say, was known as a kind of go-between, like the Greek Hermes; a messenger bringing news and enlightenment from the gods.’
“Gault let out a sarcastic grunt.
“‘I am not saying that I believe,’ I continued. ‘And chimerae such as … the fish-god … are often just attempts by primitive cultures to describe something completely out of their experience by giving it a form they can recognize. The Outer Darkness has many facets, and not all of them can be comprehended by the uninitiated.’
“‘Outer Darkness?’ Gault asked.
“I will not bore you chaps here tonight with the details; I have explained the cosmology to you often enough. Suffice to say it was necessary to give Gault a lesson on the great beyond. It took some time, and afterward he was silent for a while, then nodded his head.