One side of the cobblestoned open space was the straight line of the river; the other was a semicircle of sIant-roofed brick buildings of about the 1800 period, from which several streets radiated away to the southeast, south, and southwest. Lamps were depressingly few and small – – all low-powered incandescents – – and I was glad that my plans called for departure before dark, even though I knew the moon would be bright. The buildings were all in fair condition, and included perhaps a dozen shops in current operation; of which one was a grocery of the First National chain, others a dismal restaurant, a drug store, and a wholesale fish-dealer’s office, and still another, at the eastward extremity of the square near the river an office d the town’s only Industry – – the Marsh Refining Company. There were perhaps ten people visible, and four or five automobiles and motor trucks stood scattered about I did not need to be told that this was the civic centre of Innsmouth. Eastward I could catch blue glimpses of the harbour, against which rose the decaying remains of three once beautiful Georgian steeples. And toward the shore on the opposite bank of the river I saw the white belfry surmounting what I took to be the Marsh refinery.
For some reason or other I chose to make my first in-quiries at the chain grocery, whose personnel was not likely to be native to Innsmouth. I found a solitary boy of about seventeen in charge, and was pleased to note the brightness and affability which promised cheerful information. He seemed exceptionally eager to talk, and I soon gathered that he did not like the place, its fishy smell, or its furtive people. A word with any outsider was a relief to him, He hailed from Arkham, boarded with a family who came from Ipswich, and went back whenever he got a moment off. His family did not like him to work in Innsmouth, but the chain had transferred him there and he did not wish to give up his job.
There was, he said, no public library or chamber of commerce in Innsmouth, but I could probably find my way about. The street I had come dawn was Federal. West of that were the fine old residence streets – – Broad, Washington, Lafayette, and Adams – – and east of it were the shoreward slums. It was in these slums – – along Main Street – – that I would find the old Georgian churches, but they were all long abandoned. It would be well not to make oneself too conspicuous in such neighbourhoods – – especially north of the river since the people were sullen and hostile. Some strangers had even disappeared.
Certain spots were almost forbidden territory, as he had learned at considerable cost. One must not, for example, linger much around the Marsh refinery, or around any of the still used churches, or around the pillared Order of Dagon Hall at New Church Green. Those churches were very odd – – all violently disavowed by their respective denominations elsewhere, and apparently using the queerest kind of ceremonials and clerical vestments. Their creeds were heterodox and mysterious, involving hints of certain marvelous transformations leading to bodily immorality – – of a sort – – on this earth. The youth’s own pastor – – Dr. Wallace of Asbury M. E. Church in Arkham – – had gravely urged him not to join any church in Innsmouth.
As for the Innsmouth people – – the youth hardly knew, what to make of them. They were as furtive and seldom seen as animals that live in burrows, and one could hardly imagine how they passed the time apart from their desultory fishing. Perhaps – – judging from the quantities of bootleg liquor they consumed – – they lay for most of the daylight hours in an alcoholic stupor They seemed sullenly banded together in some sort of fellowship and understanding – – despising the world as if they had access to other and preferable spheres of entity. Their appearance – – especially those staring, un-winking eyes which one never saw shut – – was certainly shock-ing enough; and their voices were disgusting. It was awful to hear them chanting in their churches at night, and especially during their main festivals Or revivals, which fell twice a year on April 30th and October 31st.