Haow’d ye like to be a little shaver alone up in a cupola a-watchin’ shapes as wa’n’t human shapes? . . .Heh? . . . Heh, heh, heh . . .”
The old man was getting hysterical, and I began to shiver with a nameless allarm. He laid a gnarled claw on my shoul-der, and it seemed to me that its shaking was not altogether that of mirth.
“S’pose one night ye seed somethin’ heavy heaved offen Obed’s dory beyond the reef’ and then learned next day a young feller was missin’ from home. Hey! Did anybody ever see hide or hair o’ Hiram Gilman agin. Did they? An’ Nick Pierce, an’ Luelly Waite, an’ Adoniram Saouthwick, an’ Henry Garrison Hey? Heh, heh, heh, heh . . . Shapes talkin’ sign language with their hands . . . them as had reel hands . . . “Wal, Sir, that was the time Obed begun to git on his feet agin. Folks see his three darters a-wearin’ gold-like things as nobody’d never see on ’em afore, an’ smoke stared comin’ aout o’ the refin’ry chimbly. Other folks was prosp’rin, too – – fish begun to swarm into the harbour fit to kill’ an’ heaven knows what sized cargoes we begun to ship aout to Newb’ry-port, Arkham, an’ Boston. T’was then Obed got the ol’ branch raitrud put through. Some Kingsport fishermen heerd abaout the ketch an’ come up in sloops, but they was all lost. Nobody never see ’em agin. An’ jest then our folk. organised the Esoteric Order 0′ Dagon, an’ bought Masoic Hall offen Calvary Commandery for it . . . heh, heh, heh! Mart Eliot was a Mason an’ agin the sellin’, but he dropped aout o’ sight jest then.
“Remember, I ain’t sayin’ Obod was set on hevin’ things jest like they was on that Kanaky isle. I dun’t think he aimed at fust to do no mixin’, nor raise no younguns to take to the water an’ turn into fishes with eternal life. He wanted them gold things, an’ was willin’ to pay heavy, an’ I guess the others was satisfied fer a while . . .
“Come in’forty-six the taown done some lookin’ an’ thinkin’ fer itself. Too many folks msssin’ – – too much wild preachin’ at meetin’ of a Sunday – -too much talk abaout that reef. I guess I done a bit by tellin’ Selectman Mowry what I see from the cupalo. They was a party one night as follered Obed’s craowd aout to the reef, an’ I heerd shots betwixt the dories. Nex’ day Obed and thutty-two others was in gaol, with everybody a-wonderin’ jest what was afoot and jest what charge agin ’em cud he got to holt. God, ef anybody’d look’d ahead . . . a couple o’ weeks later, when nothin’ had ben throwed into the sea fer thet long . . .
Zadok was shewing sings of fright and exhaustion, and I let him keep silence for a while, though glancing apprehen-sively at my watch. The tide had turned and was coming in now, and the sound of the waves seemed to arouse him. I was glad of that tide, for at high water the fishy smell might not be so bad. Again I strained to catch his whispers.
“That awful night . . . I seed ’em. I was up in the cupalo . . . hordes of’ em . . . swarms of ’em . . . all over the reef an’ swimin’ up the harbour into the Manuret. . . God, what happened in the streets of Innsmouth that night . . . they rattled our door, but pa wouldn’t open . . . then he clumb aout the kitchen winder with his musket to find Selecman Mowry an’ see what he cud; do . . . Maounds o’ the dead an’ the dyin’ . . . shots and screams . . . shaoutin’ in Ol Squar an’ Taown Squar an’ New Church Green – – gaol throwed open . . . – – proclamation . . . treason . . . called it the plague when folks come in an’ faoud haff our people missin’ . . . nobody left but them as ud jine in with Obed an’ them things or else keep quiet . . . never heard o’ my pa no more. . . “