Зов Ктулху / The Call of Cthulhu. Уровень 2

It was voodoo, apparently, but voodoo of the most terrible sort. Since the malevolent tom-tom[38 - malevolent tom-tom – зловещий там-там (там-там – ударный музыкальный инструмент)] began its incessant beating, some of their women and children disappeared. The sounds came from the black haunted woods where no one walked. There were insane shouts and harrowing screams, soul-chilling chants and dancing devil-flames. The frightened messenger added that it was impossible to stand that.

So twenty police officers in two carriages and an automobile went there. The shivering squatter was their guide. At the end of the road they walked for miles in silence through the terrible cypress woods where day never came. Ugly roots and malignant hanging nooses of Spanish moss beset them. Finally, they saw the squatter settlement, a miserable huddle of huts. Hysterical dwellers ran out to meet them. The policemen heard the beat of tom-toms now. It was far, far ahead; and a curdling shriek came when the wind shifted. The dim red light was visible through the forrest. The squatters refused to go toward the scene of unholy worship. Inspector Legrasse and his nineteen colleagues went into black arcades of horror.

They entered that region of traditionally evil repute. White men normally did not enter it. There were legends of a hidden lake, in which dwelt a huge, formless white polypous animal with luminous eyes. Squatters whispered that bat-winged devils flew up out of caverns in inner earth to worship it at midnight. It was there before the Indians, and before even the beasts and birds of the woods. It was nightmare itself, and to see it was to die. But it was coming to people in dreams, and so they knew enough not to go there. The present voodoo orgy was, indeed, on the fringe of this area. But even that location was bad enough. Perhaps the very place of the worship terrified the squatters more than the shocking sounds and incidents.

Legrasse’s men went on through the black swamp toward the red glare and muffled tom-toms. There are sounds made by men, and sounds made by beasts and was terrible their dreadful combination. The policemen heard howls of animal fury and orgiastic ecstasy. The voices were like pestilential tempests from the gulfs of hell. From time to time the sounds ceased and a chorus of hoarse voices chanted that hideous phrase or ritual:

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”

Then the men reached a spot where the trees were thinner. Four of them reeled, one fainted, and two cried frantically. Legrasse splashed some water in the face of the fainted man. They stood there, trembling and nearly hypnotized with horror.

In a natural glade of the swamp stood a grassy island. The island was of an acre’s extent, clear of trees and dry. On this now leaped and twisted indescribable horde of humans. They were totally naked. This hybrid spawn were braying, bellowing, and writhing about a monstrous ring-shaped bonfire. In the centre stood a great granite monolith some eight feet in height. On top of this great granite monolith rested the noxious carven statuette. Ten scaffolds were set up at regular intervals, forming a circle. From them hung, head downward, the marred bodies of the helpless disappeared squatters. Inside this circle the ring of worshippers jumped and roared. They were moving from left to right in endless dance between the ring of bodies and the ring of fire.

It may be only imagination, but one of policemen, a Spanish man, heard antiphonal responses to the ritual from some far and unillumined spot within the wood. I later met and questioned this man, Joseph D. Galvez. He said that he heard beating of great wings. He saw a glimpse of shining eyes and a mountainous white bulk beyond the remotest trees. I suppose he was a little superstitious.

But duty came first. The police relied on their firearms and went determinedly into the nauseous rout. For five minutes the chaos was beyond description. Blows were struck, shots were fired, and escapes were made. In the end Legrasse counted forty-seven sullen prisoners. He ordered to dress them and fall into line between two rows of policemen. Five of the worshippers lay dead, and two were severely wounded. Of course, Legrasse took the statuette from the monolith.

After an exhausting trip, the prisoners were examined. They were men of a very low, mixed-blooded, and mentally aberrant type[39 - mentally aberrant type – низкое умственное развитие]. Most were seamen, some Negroes and mulattoes, largely West Indians or Portuguese from the Cape Verde Islands[40 - Cape Verde Islands – Острова Зеленого Мыса]. This cult and its members looked like connected to voodooism. But before many questions, it became clear that something far deeper and older than Negro fetishism was involved.

They worshipped, so they said, the Great Old Ones[41 - Great Old Ones – Великие Древние] who lived ages before there were any men. The Great Old Ones came to the young world out of the sky. Those Old Ones were gone now, inside the earth and under the sea. Their dead bodies told their secrets in dreams to the first men, who formed a cult which never died. This was that cult. It always existed and will always exist. It is hidden in distant and dark places all over the world. The time will come when the great priest Cthulhu, from his dark house in the mighty city of R’lyeh under the waters will rise and rule the earth. Some day, when the stars are ready, he will call. The secret cult will always wait to liberate him.

They refused to tell more. There was a secret and it was impossible to extract it. Mankind was not absolutely alone among the conscious things of earth. Some shapes came out of the dark to visit the faithful few[42 - to visit the faithful few – чтобы посетить немногих верных]. But these were not the Great Old Ones. No man saw the Old Ones. The carven idol was great Cthulhu, but nobody can say how the others look like. No one was able to read the old writing now. The things were told by word of mouth. The chanted ritual was not the secret. The chant meant only this:

“In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.[43 - In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming – Мёртвый Ктулху в своём доме в Р’льехе ожидает во сне]”

Only two of the prisoners were found sane enough to hang them. The rest were taken to various hospitals. All denied ritual murders, and said that the killing was done by Black Winged Ones[44 - Black Winged Ones – Чернокрылые] which came to them from their immemorial meeting-place in the haunted wood. But nobody wanted to talk about these mysterious allies. What the police learned, came mainly from the very old mestizo named Castro[45 - mestizo named Castro – метис по имени Кастро]. Castro sailed to different ports and talked with undying leaders of the cult in the mountains of China.

Old Castro remembered bits of hideous legend that made man and the world seem recent and transient indeed. There were ages when other Creatures ruled on the earth and They had great cities. The deathless Chinamen told him that remains of Them can still be found as Cyclopean stones on islands in the Pacific[46 - on islands in the Pacific – на островах Тихого океана]. They all died long ago before men came. But it is possible to revive Them when the stars came round again to the right positions in the cycle of eternity. They came themselves from the stars, and brought Their images with Them.

These Great Old Ones, Castro continued, were not composed altogether of flesh and blood. They had shape but that shape was not made of matter. When the stars were right[47 - When the stars were right – когда звезды были в правильном положении], They could travel from world to world through the sky. When the stars were wrong, They did not live.

But although They no longer lived, They never really died.

They all lie in stone houses in Their great city of R’lyeh, preserved by the spells of mighty Cthulhu for a glorious resurrection when the stars and the earth once again are ready for Them. But at that time some force from outside must serve to liberate Their bodies. The spells prevent Them from an initial move. They can only lie awake in the dark and think while millions of years pass by. They know all that is occurring in the universe. Their mode of speech is transmitted thought. Even now They talked in Their tombs. When, after infinities of chaos, the first men came, the Great Old Ones spoke to the sensitive among them forming their dreams. Only thus could Their language reach the fleshly minds.

Then, whispered Castro, those first men formed the cult around tall idols which the Great Ones showed them. Idols were brought in dim eras from dark stars. That cult will never die till the stars come right again. The secret priests will take great Cthulhu from His tomb to revive His servants and resume His rule of earth. It will be easy to know this time has come. Mankind will become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil. The people will throw aside laws and morals. And all men will shout and kill and revel in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones will teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves. All the earth will flame with a great fire of ecstasy and freedom. Meanwhile the cult, by appropriate rites, must keep alive the memory of those ancient ways and tell about their return.

In the elder time chosen men talked with the entombed Old Ones in dreams. Then something happened. The great stone city R’lyeh, with its monoliths and sepulchres, sank beneath the waves. The deep waters, full of the primal mystery, cut off the communication. No thought can pass through them. But memory never died. The high-priests say that the city will rise again when the stars are right. Then the black spirits of earth will come out of the earth, mouldy and shadowy, and full of dim rumours. But old Castro dared not speak much of them.

He became silent hurriedly and said nothing more. He curiously declined to mention the size of the Old Ones, too. Of the cult, he said that he thought the centre lay amid the pathless desert of Arabia, where Irem, the City of Pillars[48 - Irem, the City of Pillars – Ирем, град колонн], dreams hidden and untouched. It was not connected to the European witch-cult, and was virtually unknown beyond its members. No book ever mentioned it. Only in the Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, as the deathless Chinamen said were double meanings, which the initiated can read, especially the this couplet:

That is not dead which can eternal lie [49 - That is not dead which can eternal lie. – Не мёртво то, что может вечно покоиться.],
And with strange ages even death may die.

Legrasse was deeply impressed. He inquired about the historic affiliations of the cult. Castro, apparently, told the truth when he said that it was wholly secret. The authorities at Tulane University said nothing about either cult or image. So the detective came to the highest authorities in the country now and met only with the Greenland tale of Professor Webb.

The great interest aroused at the meeting by Legrasse’s tale. It echoed in the correspondence of those who attended; although was not mentioned in the formal publications of the society. Caution is the first care of scientists who often face charlatanry and imposture. Legrasse lent the image to Professor Webb. When Professor died, it was returned to him. I saw it not long ago. It is truly a terrible thing, and very similar to the dream-sculpture of young Wilcox.

It is no surprise that my uncle was excited by the tale of the sculptor. The fact that sensitive young man saw in his dreams these figure and hieroglyphics was very interesting. Professor Angell started an investigation immediately. Privately I suspected young Wilcox of a trickery. He could invent a series of dreams to heighten and continue the mystery. My rationalism made me think this way. So, after thoroughly studying the manuscript again and correlating the theosophical and anthropological notes with the cult narrative of Legrasse, I made a trip to Providence. I wanted to see the sculptor and accuse him of deceiving a learned and aged man.

Wilcox still lived alone in the Fleur-de-Lys Building in Thomas Street, a hideous Victorian imitation of seventeenth century Breton Architecture[50 - hideous Victorian imitation of seventeenth century Breton Architecture – безобразной викторианской стилизации бретонской архитектуры семнадцатого века]. I found him at work in his rooms. I understood at once that his genius was indeed profound and authentic. I believe, one day he will be well-known as one of the great decadents. He has crystallized in clay and one day will repeat in marble nightmares and phantasies. Like those which Arthur Machen[51 - Arthur Machen – Артур Мэкен (1863–1947) английский (валлийский) писатель, автор фантасмогорических историй, существенно повлиявших на Г.Ф. Лавкрафта.] evokes in prose, and Clark Ashton Smith[52 - Clark Ashton Smith – Кларк Эштон Смит (1893–1961) американский поэт и писатель, художник, скульптор; писал рассказы в жанре фантастики, фэнтези и ужасов.] makes visible in verse and in painting.

He was dark and frail, a little bit unkempt. He asked me about my business without rising. When I told him who I was, he displayed some interest. My uncle excited his curiosity because he was studying his strange dreams, yet never explained the reason for the study. In a short time I became convinced of his absolute sincerity. He spoke of the dreams honestly. They influenced his art profoundly. He showed me a morbid statue whose contours almost shook me. He hasn’t seen the original of this thing except in his own dream bas-relief. The outlines formed themselves insensibly under his hands. It was, no doubt, the giant shape that he saw in delirium. But he really knew nothing of the hidden cult.

He talked of his dreams in a strangely poetic fashion. It made me imagine the damp Cyclopean city of slimy green stone – whose geometry, he said, was all wrong. He heard with frightened expectancy the ceaseless, half-mental calling from underground: “Cthulhu fhtagn”, “Cthulhu fhtagn.”

These words formed part of that dread ritual which told of dead Cthulhu’s dream-vigil in his stone vault at R’lyeh[53 - dead Cthulhu’s dream-vigil in his stone vault at R’lyeh – бдительном сне мертвого Ктулху в его каменном склепе в Р’льехе.]. I felt deeply touched despite my rational beliefs. Wilcox, I was sure, heard of the cult in some casual way. He soon forgot it amidst the mass of his equally weird reading and imagining. Later it found subconscious expression in dreams, in the bas-relief, and in the terrible statue. The young man was slightly affected and slightly ill-mannered. I never liked that type, but I admitted both his genius and his honesty. I wished him all the success his talent promises when I left.

The matter of the cult still fascinated me. Sometimes I dreamed of earning fame from serious researches into its origins. I visited New Orleans, talked with Legrasse and other people of that old-time party. I saw the frightful image, and even questioned some mongrel prisoners. Old Castro, unfortunately, was dead. What I now heard was really no more than a detailed confirmation of what my uncle wrote before. It excited me once again. I felt sure that I touched a very real, very secret, and very ancient religion. Its discovery will make me a famous scholar. My attitude was absolutly materialistic (I wish it still were) and I discounted the coincidence between Willcox dreams and the cuttings collected by my grand-uncle.

One thing I began to suspect, and which I now fear I know, is that my uncle’s death was not natural. He fell on a narrow hill street. This street was swarming with foreign mongels. He fell after a careless push from a Negro sailor. I did not forget the mixed blood and marine background of the cult-members in Louisiana. I won’t be surprised to learn of poisoned needles and other ruthless secret methods. Legrasse and his men, it is true, are still alive; but in Norway a certain seaman who saw some strange things is dead. Maybe the deeper inquiries of my uncle came to sinister ears? I think Professor Angell died because he knew too much. Or because there was a chance for him to learn too much as well. And at the moment I knew much, too…

III. The Madness from the Sea

I almost ceased my inquiries into what Professor Angell called the “Cthulhu Cult”, and was visiting a learned friend in Paterson, New Jersey. He was the curator of a local museum and a famous mineralogist. One day I was examining the stones in a rear room of the museum. My eye noticed an odd picture in one of the old papers spread beneath the stones. It was the Australian journal, the Sydney Bulletin[54 - Australian journal, the SydneyBulletin – австралийский журнал, «Сиднейский вестник»], for April 18, 1925. There was a picture of a hideous stone image almost identical with that which Legrasse found in the swamp.

I read the article in detail. What I read was very important for my investigation. So I carefully tore it out. It read as follows:

MYSTERY DERELICT FOUND AT SEA

Vigilant Arrives With Helpless Armed New Zealand Yacht in Tow [55 - Vigilant Arrives With Helpless Armed New Zealand Yacht in Tow. – «Неусыпный» прибывает в порт с неуправляемой новозеландской яхтой на буксире.].

One Survivor and Dead Man Found Aboard. Tale of Desperate Battle and Deaths at Sea. Rescued Seaman Refuses Particulars of Strange Experience. Odd Idol Found in His Possession. Inquiry to Follow[56 - Inquiry to Follow. – Предстоит расследование.].

The Morrison Co.’s freighter Vigilant[57 - the Morrison Co.’s freighter Vigilant– сухогруз «Неусыпный», принадлежащий компании «Моррисон»], bound from Valparaiso, arrived this morning at its wharf in Darling Harbour. It had in tow the battled and disabled but heavily armed steam yacht Alert of Dunedin, N.Z., which was sighted April 12th in S. Latitude 34°21’, W. Longitude 152°17’, with one living and one dead man aboard.

The Vigilant left Valparaiso March 25th. On April 2nd, exceptionally heavy storms and monster waves drove the ship considerably south of its course. On April 12th the derelict was sighted. One survivor in a half-delirious condition and one man who was evidently dead for more than a week were found. The living man was holding a horrible stone idol of unknown origin, about foot in height. The authorities at Sydney University, the Royal Society, and the Museum in College Street were unable to say anything about its origin. The survivor says he found it in the cabin of the yacht, in a small carved shrine.

This man told an exceedingly strange story of piracy and slaughter. He is Gustaf Johansen, a Norwegian. He is from the two-masted schooner Emma of Auckland, which sailed for Callao February 20th with a complement of eleven men. He says, the great storm of March 1st threw the Emma widely south of her course by. On March 22nd, in S. Latitude 49°51’ W. Longitude 128°34’, the ship encountered the Alert. It was manned by a queer and evil-looking crew of Kanakas and half-castes[58 - Kanakas and half-castes – канаки и полукровки]. They ordered to turn back, Capt. Collins refused. The strange crew began to fire savagely and without warning. The schooner began to sink from shots beneath the water-line, but the Emma’s men managed to heave alongside their enemy and board it. They killed them all.

Three of the Emma’s men, including Capt. Collins and First Mate Green, were killed. The remaining eight under Second Mate Johansen continued to navigate the captured yacht. They were going in their original direction to see why they were ordered back The next day, it appears, they found and landed on a small island. None knew about it in that part of the ocean. Six of the men somehow died ashore. Johansen strangely says very little about this part of his story. Later, it seems, he and one companion boarded the yacht and tried to manage it. But they were driven by the storm of April 2nd. From that time till his rescue on the 12th the man remembers little. He does not even recall when William Briden, his companion, died. There was no apparent cause for Briden’s death. It happened probably due to excitement or exposure. The Alert was well known there as an island trader[59 - island trader – каботажное судно]. It bore evil reputation. It was owned by a curious group of half-castes. Their frequent meetings and night trips to the woods attracted curiosity. It started in great haste just after the storm and earth tremors of March 1st. Our Auckland correspondent gives the Emma and her crew an excellent reputation. He describes Johansen as a sober and worthy man. The admiralty will start an inquiry. They will try to make Johansen speak more freely than he did before.

This was all, together with the picture of the hellish image. What a train of ideas it started in my mind! Here was new information about the Cthulhu Cult! Here was the evidence that it had strange interests at sea as well as on land. Why did the hybrid crew order the Emma to sail back? What was the unknown island on which six of the Emma’s crew died? Why Johansen was so secretive? And most important, what deep connection was there, between these dates and events so carefully noted by my uncle?

March 1st – or February 28th according to the International Date Line[60 - according to the International Date Line – согласно международной демаркации суточного времени] – the earthquake and storm came. From Dunedin the Alert and her crew sailed eagerly. It looked as if somebody summoned it. On the other side of the earth poets and artists began to dream of a strange Cyclopean city while a young sculptor moulded in his sleep the form of the dreaded Cthulhu. March 23rd the crew of the Emma landed on an unknown island. They left six men dead. On that date the dreams of sensitive men became very vivid and darkened with dread of a giant monster’s malign pursuit. On that date architect went mad and a sculptor went suddenly into delirium! And what of this storm of April 2nd – the date on which all dreams of the strange city ceased? The date on which Wilcox recovered from the strange fever? An old Castro talked about the sunken, star-born Old Ones and their coming reign; their faithful cult and their mastery of dreams. In some way the second of April stopped monstrous menace, which began the siege of mankind’s soul.

That evening I took a train for San Francisco. In less than a month I was in Dunedin. There I found that little was known of the strange cult-members who spent their time in the old sea-taverns. But there was vague talk about one inland trip these mongrels made. During that trip faint drumming and red flame were noted on the distant hills. In Auckland I learned that Johansen returned with yellow hair turned white after a questioning at Sydney. Hereafter he sold his cottage in West Street and sailed with his wife to his old home in Oslo. He did not told much to his friends but they gave me his Oslo address.

After that I went to Sydney and talked with seamen and members of the vice-admiralty court but without result. I saw the Alert but gained nothing. The Alert was sold and now in commercial use. The crouching image with its cuttlefish head, dragon body, scaly wings, and hieroglyphed pedestal, was preserved in the Museum at Hyde Park. I studied it long and well. Geologists, the curator told me, found it a monstrous puzzle. They vowed that the rock like it did not exist. Then I remembered with a shudder the words that Old Castro told Legrasse about the Old Ones;

“They came from the stars, and brought Their images with Them.”

My rationalistic thinking was shaken. I decided to visit Mate Johansen in Oslo. Johansen lived, I discovered, in the Old Town. I made a brief taxi-trip. Then I knocked at the door of a neat and ancient building. A sad-faced woman in black came out and told me in broken English that Gustaf Johansen was dead.

It was his wife and she told me something. He did not live long after his return. The sea events in 1925 broke him. He told her no more than he told the public. But he left a long manuscript – of “technical matters” as he said – written in English. During a walk near the Gothenburg dock, a bundle of papers from an attic window knocked him down. Two Lascar sailors[61 - Lascar sailors – моряки из Индии, используемые для черной работы] at once helped him, but before the ambulance arrived, he was dead. Physicians said that his death occurred due to a heart trouble and a weakened constitution.

I felt dark terror now, the terror that will never leave me. At least till I die, “accidentally” or otherwise. I persuaded the widow to get her husband’s “technical matters”. I bore the document away and began to read it on the London boat. It was a naive sailor’s effort at a diary – to recall day by day that last awful voyage. After I read this story I was unable to hear the sound of the waves anymore. But I will try to retell this story.

Johansen, thank God, did not know everything, even though he saw the city and the Thing. I shall never sleep calmly again when I think of the horrors that lurk ceaselessly behind life in time and in space. These blasphemies from elder stars dream beneath the sea and the nightmare cult is ready to let them loose when they have another chance.