Carnacki: The Watcher at the Gate

by William Meikle

  “We only ventured out as the boat swung into the small harbor cut into the cliff side in Gozo. The sun was going down far to the west and the waters beneath us had just started to take on that dark-blue hue you only ever see in those climes. The crew, to a man, lined the sides of the boat, peering down, trying to pierce the secrets that were surely just below us.

  “‘Can you feel it?’ Gault whispered.

  “And I jolly well could feel it. It was as if the deck itself thrummed underfoot, and the air filled with a tingle that raised the hairs on my hands and arms.

  “There was no shortage of raised hands when Gault called for volunteers to go into the water. I tried to encourage prudence, but a fever had the boat in its grip, one that would not be easily assuaged.

  “‘I cannot see us making it through till morning without someone making the attempt of their own volition,’ Gault said, and I had to reluctantly agree with him. Indeed, when the first of the men went down into the depths, I was more than a little envious, wishing that I too had raised a hand when asked.

  “Night drew in around us. The men raised lanterns all along the length of the boat, but it quickly became clear they would not be needed as a full moon rose above the cliff at our back and bathed us all in shimmering grays and silver.

  “For several hours a steady stream of men went down into the water, but they all returned empty-handed. And it was then that I had an epiphany of sorts. I excused myself from the captain’s side and went back to his cabin. I felt the tug of the shard in the box as soon as I entered the room, and it became nearly unbearable as I rubbed out a patch of the protective circle.

  “Singing rose up immediately from inside the cabinet, high and clear and mesmerizing.

  “And from outside the hull, there came an answer, a chorus, in a drone that was near deafening.

  “I rushed back out onto the deck, only for Gault to thrust his pistol into my hands.

  “‘If anyone tries anything, shoot first, apologize later,’ he said, and without another word of explanation, he dived over the side.

  “I looked over the rail, just in time to see him splash into the waters of the harbor—waters that glowed and shimmered, blue and dancing.”

  c

  “He was only under for twenty seconds, no more, but even in that short time the crew became emboldened enough to surround me. Their grins looked threatening, almost feral, and all around us the drone of the song rose ever louder, squealing now, like a manic bagpipe player. I showed them the pistol, but in my heart I knew I could not fire. And I saw by their look that they knew. I wasn’t about to kill any man over a jewel, no matter how pretty—or powerful—it might be. I considered a warning shot over their heads, but the blasted pistol was so dashed heavy in my hand that I did not trust myself not to inadvertently hit someone.

  “Gault saved me from making a decision, and just in the nick of time. The ringleader of the men, a huge brute of a chap, was making a move forward, just as the captain pulled himself back up over the gunwales and onto the deck. He dropped something heavy at his feet. It was wrapped inside his overshirt, but the blue luminescence showed though. He had found the prize.

  “The singing got louder still, assaulting my ears until I thought my head might implode under the pressure. I heard Gault shout, as if from far off in a strong wind.

  “‘Give me a hand, Carnacki. We need your protections. And your bag of tricks.’

  “He lifted the jewel—it took both hands—and backed away toward the living quarters. I watched his back and followed. The crew crept along afterward, keeping their distance. None of them so much as glanced at the weapon I carried. All eyes were on the seeping blue light that cast dense black shadows to caper around us as we made our slow way to Gault’s quarters.”

  c

  Carnacki stopped again, and looked around at us. “One last fill of our glasses, gentlemen, before we get to the conclusion. If any of you are feeling adventurous, I have a bottle of the good captain’s spiced rum at hand. I can heartily recommend it, and it may even still have some power in it to allay any nightmares that might threaten once you are abed later tonight.”

  I took up our host’s offer and poured a generous measure. It smelled exotic, an almost overpowering tang of spice and too-raw alcohol, but it went down remarkably smoothly, and heat spread through my torso as I sat back in the chair and lit up a cheroot, waiting for Carnacki to continue. Once again he did not keep us waiting.

  c

  “That journey back to Gault’s cabin was the longest thirty yards of my life,” he began. “The chorus of song, the blue, capering lights and the slow advance of the crew, their faces alternatively lit, then cast in deep shadow, gave the whole affair the aspect of a ghastly dream, one from which there was no possibility of awakening.

  “Gault shepherded me into his cabin, dropped the bundle containing the jewel unceremoniously at his feet, and locked the door behind us. He took the pistol from me.

  “‘Well, we have it. Whether or not we can keep it, only time will tell. It’s your turn now, Carnacki.’

  “Exactly what my turn entailed was not entirely clear. I prodded the jewel with my foot. The singing drone rose to a cacophony. My only option beyond yielding to its advances was to get it inside the protection, and fast.

  “The crew started banging on the cabin door even as I redrew the circle and sealed it with salt and garlic. Then I quickly set up the electric pentacle. The valves started to pulse and glow before I even got them attached to the battery, as if picking up a sympathetic source of power from the jewel itself. I lifted the jewel—with quite some difficulty I might add—and stepped into the circle alongside the cabinet that already stood there.

  “Blue light flared. The noise within the enclosed cabin rose to a deafening bellow. The spectrum shifted in the pentacle’s valves as the protective shield tried to balance itself against the jewel’s power. The pentacle glowed and dimmed in soft yellows and greens. Gradually at first, then with an increasing whisper of what sounded like disappointment, the blue light faded and the chanting dissipated until it was little more than a sigh, then just a memory.

  “The crew outside the door ceased in their efforts to gain entry, and everything fell deathly quiet.

  “I felt no sense of accomplishment, only a deep sorrow. A desire to see the blue light again, to hear the song, immediately started to grow in me. It was all I could do to stand my ground and not break the protection.

  “Gault’s face lit up in a wide grin.

  “‘You did it, Carnacki. You have control of it.’

  “I was not altogether certain of that prognosis. The jewel in my arms still vibrated and thrummed. And an answering rattle came from within the cabinet. The pieces were somehow linked to one another.

  “Gault noticed the same thing.

  “‘What now, old man?’ he asked. ‘You can hardly stay in there for the rest of the voyage.’

  “I had been thinking the same thing. I put the jewel on the floor next to the cabinet. It rattled, once, then fell silent. The valves of the pentacle brightened, spluttered, then steadied, a soft yellow, warm, like sunshine. I gingerly stepped over the lines on the floor and went to join Gault.

  “We shared more of his fine rum and waited to see what might occur. After a time it became quite apparent that the protection was holding.

  “‘How long will your battery last?’

  “A day or so. And I have another in the box. Have you a generator we can hook up?”

  “‘We can procure one in Valetta,’ he said. ‘It will only have to get us to Marseilles. I have a buyer waiting.’”

  c

  “He was as good as his word. A brief docking in Valetta, a generator purchased and installed, and we were once again headed out to sea, making what speed we could muster for Southern France. The crew seemed to have quote forgotten their earlier antipathy to the captain and myself, and Gault seemed to have shrugged it off as a temporary aberration. Everything was going to Ga
ult’s plan.

  “Or so it seemed.

  “I spent most of the next two days in the captain’s cabin, watching the glowing pentacle, studying the jewel from outside the circle, but I’m afraid to say I learned none of its secrets.

  “It was at dusk on the second day when it became quite clear that the jewel had learned more from me than I had from it.

  “The change in circumstances manifested itself as a subtle hum rising from the valves. At first I thought it must be the fault of a power fluctuation from the generator, but the noise rose and swelled, filling the cabin with an all-too-familiar drone.

  “Gault, who had been out walking the decks, came back and stood in the doorway, and was there to see the yellow slowly change, first taking on a pale greenish hue, then strengthening until it was a blue so bright I could scarcely look at it. The cabinet in the circle vibrated and rattled, violently rocking in place until it fell apart into splinters of broken wood. I could just make out a glimpse of red velvet as the shard rolled out of the remains and was reunited with the main body of the jewel.

  “The valves of the pentacle now glowed almost as brilliantly as the jewel itself, and the chorus of song filled my head with longing. Gault stepped forward, and I saw his intent immediately. He was headed straight for the protections—straight for the jewel. I grabbed a bottle from his desk and stood between him and the valves. I took a slug of rum and passed the liquor to him, having to bodily hold him back as I did so.

  “‘Fight it, man. Drink the rum and fight it.’

  “At first he did not even seem to register my presence, but I forced the bottle into his hand, and just the feel of it seemed to trigger an action. Reflex or not, it had the desired effect. He swallowed enough rum to floor a horse, and his eyes cleared as he handed the bottle back to me.

  “As I stood with my back to the pentacle, I was first to see the commotion outside the cabin door. The crew had once again been taken by frenzy. They packed in the doorway, getting in one another’s way as they tried to push through to the jewel to pay their homage.

  “Gault retrieved his pistol from a rack on the wall.

  “‘Fetch the jewel,’ he said. ‘And follow me.’

  “At first I did not see how we might escape the cabin, but he pushed a bookcase over to reveal a tight passage that led straight out onto the main deck.

  “I took another swig of rum before throwing the now-empty bottle aside. I bent, smudged out my protections, and lifted the jewel out of the circle. At the same instant the valves all blew with a bang that was even louder than the drone from the thing in my arms. A blue flash lit up the room, brighter than the brightest summer’s day and I still saw the afterimage as I followed Gault out through the escape hole. The crew came at our heels, baying in time with the drone of the jewel.

  “We were stopped in our tracks by the sight that met us on deck.

  “We lay in open sea, with no land visible. As far as the eye could see in any direction the sea glowed, blue, luminescent and dancing, keeping time with the drone of the jewel. Something was coming up out of the depths to meet us. You chaps will all have seen a jellyfish? Well, this was one like no other, so vast we could scarcely comprehend the size of it.

  “And as it rose up through the water, it sang so loudly that the whole hull vibrated in sympathy. The jewel in my arms got heavier still, until I could no longer hold it. I dropped it to the deck. It lay at my feet and sang; a higher note, but one that was immediately answered by the thing from the deep.

  “The crew piled out onto the deck. Gault raised his weapon, fearing an attack. It didn’t come. The men were as awestruck as Gault and I.

  “The blue light danced, and the drone deepened until the vibration got so bad that I feared the whole structure of the vessel was in danger of shaking itself to pieces. Gault was obviously of similar mind. He raised the pistol, aiming it directly at the jewel and, before I could say anything, fired.

  “It was just a single shot, but it was enough. The jewel shattered into a myriad of fragments as fine as dust. A silence fell, during which the dancing shards were caught in a sudden breeze. It carried them away overboard and down into the ocean. I looked over the rail in time to see them fall, scattering like blue raindrops, twinkling. The blue light danced down with them, accompanying them into the dark deeps.

  “They sang as they sank.”

  c

  Carnacki sat back in his seat. “There is not much left to tell. I had Gault let me off in Marseilles—I made my way back over land; I have had more than enough of the sea to last me for quite some time. I do believe a trip on the Thames may well be the limit of my nautical aspirations from this day forth.”

  Arkwright was not overly amused at the abrupt nature of the end of the tale, and made his displeasure known, even as we donned our coats in preparation for departure.

  “Dash it, Carnacki. What was that all about? What was the blue dancing thing in the depths? And what was …”

  Carnacki merely laughed as he showed us to the door.

  “I cannot tell you. I never found out myself. All I can tell you is what Gault said when we shook hands and parted on the dock in Marseille.

  “‘Stranger things happen at sea.’”

  Carnacki showed us out into the quiet London night.

  “Now, out you go,” he said.

  Mr. Churchill’s Dilemma

  I was late in arriving in Chelsea that winter evening. There was a bit of a flap on at work due to the East End fire that had briefly threatened to be a disaster for that whole side of the city. It had taken me most of the day to ensure that the right people were doing the right jobs to keep the situation under control. By the time the sun went down the worst of it was over, but I was almost dead on my feet. I briefly considered going home and going straight to bed, but a few drinks and a story was enough of an enticement to get me headed for Carnacki’s place.

  As I said, I was late—they had already finished the main course, but Carnacki had kept a plate of cold pie, sliced meats and pickles back for me in anticipation of my arrival. I realized I was quite famished and ate the lot with some gusto. It was not too long before I was able to join the others in the parlor. I had barely time to fetch myself a snifter, and took my seat just as Carnacki was ready to start his newest story.

  c

  “I am glad you could all make it,” he began. “I had intended to relate my latest finds in Chislehurst this evening, but more recent events have proved to be of some import, and I will tell you the tale of it while it is still fresh in my mind. I am sure several of you have been inconvenienced today by the events in the East End. I am afraid to say that it was my fault—at least some of it was. But let me start at the beginning, before I get ahead of myself.

  “It began with a knock on the front door yesterday morning. It was lucky that I was dressed and had partaken of breakfast, for the officious chaps on my doorstep were singularly determined that I should accompany them to Parliament, and would not take no for an answer.

  “So it was that barely two minutes after answering the door, I was sitting between these two burly coves, feeling like a prisoner and traveling at what felt like a full gallop toward Westminster.

  “On arrival I was unceremoniously hurried through the corridors of power—whatever the reason I was thought so necessary, it was obviously an urgent one—and shown straight into a well appointed office with a view over the river. The door shut with a bang behind the two chaps as they left me with the man who had called for my presence.

  “I am sure all of you chaps know him—or of him—for he has made quite a name for himself in a few short years. But in person, Winston Churchill is a very pleasant chap indeed, with a mind like a steel trap and a taste for good cigars and even better Scotch, both of which were on offer that morning as he showed me to a seat by the window.

  “‘The sun is over the yardarm somewhere, I am sure,”’he said as he poured me a large measure of Islay malt. “And if it isn’t, it damned wel
l should be. Besides, I am going to need it, for I have a very strange tale to relate, and the Scotch seems to help me believe it.’

  “He passed me a cigar as long as my hand and two fingers thick—I was still trying to get it lit when he started.

  “‘You won’t have heard it in the papers, yet,’ he said. ‘But there’s a war coming with Germany. It might be five years, it might be ten, but sure as eggs is eggs, it is coming. And they have made it my job to make sure we are ready for anything that might be thrown at us. There are johnnies in the military planning all the strategic stuff, but my job is—how did they put it?—somewhat more esoteric. I have been tasked to consider some rather extreme possibilities. And in considering them, I have come to some alarming conclusions. That’s where you come in, Carnacki, for I know you have experience—but first let me tell what I have uncovered—or what I think I have uncovered.

  “‘You may not be aware of it, but I am something of a student of British history. And my studies over the years bring with it an understanding of how even we Englishmen here are very much rooted in far older Germanic traditions. It struck me that these very traditions might, in the event of war, be used as a weapon of infiltration against us. That single germ of an idea was my starting point to investigate just how deep the Germanic influence was. I started with a study of the history of this fine city itself, and what I have found has shaken me to the core.’