“Drink up.” Silas lifted his glass and took a swallow. The cold Canadian whiskey burned a track of icy fire down his throat.
Abigail sniffed her glass and her eyes widened. “Sweet tea, huh.” She sipped and stifled a cough. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that’s more like it!” She took another sip and then a deep breath. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Some.” Silas stared at his drink. She must think I’m loony, walking into the sea… But he could still feel that call, that yearning, and the rap of the old woman’s stick on the floor of the net loft reverberating through his bones.
“Those people, the Marshes…the main family…” Abigail paused as if unsure how to proceed. “Do they all have that…look?”
“Most.” Silas took another big swallow and felt the whiskey start to dull his nerves, ease the pounding in his head. “It supposedly started generations back with Old Obed Marsh. Old Obed went to sea and came back with a new wife and…some strange notions. That wasn’t long before a plague wiped out nearly a third of the town. Since then, the Marshes tend to keep to themselves, mostly marrying within the extended family.”
“Innsmouth…” Abigail drank and hiccuped. “God above, Silas, what’s happening in that town?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head in honest befuddlement. “I grew up there, but I never did learn the truth. Nobody talks about it, and asking questions will only get you trouble.”
“And what happened to you on that beach?”
“I…don’t really know.” Abigail’s eyes showed only concern. She’d saved him back there, and deserved an honest answer. If she called him crazy, well, he wouldn’t call her a liar. “The sea calls to me, Abigail. It always has, but lately it’s been…hard to ignore. Until now, I’ve been able to resist. Being on my boat, on the water, helps, but there on that beach, I just…”
“Calls to you?” Her brow furrowed.
“I know. It sounds crazy.” He drank more whiskey and sighed. “It is crazy.”
“No crazier than a book that changes and speaks of the end of the world!” She gripped his arm hard. “What do we do? I’m scared, Silas!”
“You’d be a fool or crazy not to be scared. Hell, I think I am crazy, and I’m still scared.”
“You’re not crazy, and neither am I!” Abigail gulped from her glass and gasped a deep breath. “Look, I thought a lot on the way back. That…woman in Innsmouth didn’t even flinch when I asked her what was going to happen out on Devil Reef. She knew!”
“Maybe, but so what?”
“Don’t you see? She refused to let us borrow a boat! She stopped us from going out there!” Abigail leaned over the table. “That means we’re onto something here! They’re afraid we can do something to stop this! Just like the date in the book changing—it’s changing because it knows we’re onto it! It wouldn’t be trying to stop us if we weren’t a threat!”
“It?” Silas didn’t like the sound of that. “Before you said ‘they’ knew we were onto them and were changing the date to foil us. You think my damned relatives have something to do with this, and now you’re saying ‘it.’ What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, but something or someone’s behind this, Silas. I don’t know what it or they are, but something’s out there on Devil Reef. It’s involved with those freaks in Innsmouth, and it damn near dragged you into the sea this afternoon!” She gripped his arm again, her nails biting in hard. “And it intends to end the world of man!”
“But how can we stop something we don’t understand?”
“I don’t know that either, but if we couldn’t stop it, would it be working so hard to try to stop us?” Abigail sipped her whiskey and let go of his arm. “Why fight us if we had no chance?”
That made a terrifying type of sense. Maybe they could stop it. Silas downed the rest of his whiskey and decided not to argue with her use of ‘we.’ He was in this now, and he knew as surely as he knew he would have swum right out to Devil Reef this afternoon if Abigail hadn’t jabbed him in the back with her umbrella, that if he didn’t put an end to this, he would finally succumb to that call. But if he could stop it, maybe…maybe his nightmares would end.
“Fine. We can stop this, but how?”
“We’ve got to get out to that reef and find out what’s there, but without a boat, how can we?”
“Whoever stole my chart must have been trying to keep us from…” Every plot pricked the chart at exactly the same spot. “The location I plotted wasn’t on the reef, but behind it! There’s a slough that runs right up behind the reef! That’s deep water!”
“So, now we need to look underwater?” Abigail’s nose wrinkled in disbelief. “How in the name of—”
“Abigail, that’s it! That’s why whatever’s behind this is worried. When I’m not fishing I work deep-sea salvage, recovering lost fishing gear or sunken boats. I’ve got a diving rig in Kingsport, but I can’t get Sea Change around the cape!”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Wait! What about the canal?”
“Canal?”
“Yes, Blynman Canal, from Gloucester to Annisquam! I’ve seen it on maps in the library! You said you couldn’t take your boat around Cape Ann, but the canal cuts behind the cape! Can’t you take your boat through there?”
“Sonofa…” Silas bit off the curse. “I’ve never used it. The channel’s narrow and shoaled, and the drawbridge is more apt to be stuck than working properly. I can’t get Sea Change under it without lowering the entire mast rig, which takes hours, so I’ve always gone around the cape.”
“But you can lower it, right?”
“I suppose, but…” Silas preferred open sea to a stinking ditch, but now, with the storm ravaging Cape Ann, it made sense. “You’re right. We can do this, but we’ve got to hurry to get out of the Annisquam bar before the wind backs to the north. Drink up! We’ve got work to do!” He pushed her glass toward her. “We need to pick up that book from the library in case the date changes again, then lower the mast and get down to Kingsport before dark! You can help me run the diving rig.”
“Um…” Abigail took another gulp from her glass and put it down. “Okay, but you’ll have to show me what to do. I’ve never been on a boat in my life! I can’t even swim!”
He blinked at her. “You can’t swim, and you waded into the surf after me?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “That was entirely different!”
He didn’t want to argue that it really wasn’t different; she’d saved his life, after all. “Well, come on.” Silas dropped four bits on the table and bustled her out into the storm. “If we hurry, we can be through the Annisquam end of the canal before the tide starts to ebb.”
Chapter Six
Devil Reef
Light slashed through the rain as they rounded the last bend in Blynman Canal, and Silas breathed a sigh of relief. The wind only kicked up wavelets in the narrow waterway, and the tide was still flowing in, instead of out, but that was about to change. He’d been surprised to find the tide at Blynman Bridge dead low when it should have been flooding, but that had been to their advantage. The laborious process of lowering the mast and boom had been worth it. They’d slipped under the bridge with feet to spare. The light swept like a scythe over them again, a great cyclopean eye questing through the night.
“That’s Wigwam Point Light.” Silas pointed. “The bar’s just beyond. If the wind’s backed too far to the north, it could be breaking, but we’ll see. The tide seems to be flooding still, but it should be on the ebb! That’s good for us. The storm must be causing a surge.”
“I didn’t understand a word you just said!” Abigail gripped the pilothouse console as if hanging on for dear life, even though the boat barely rocked. She’d changed into flat shoes, trousers, flannel shirt, and a raincoat buttoned up to her neck, hardly the prim librarian any longer. She’d asked him about life preservers, but he didn’t have any. The bulky things were more likely to kill you than save you on a working fishing boat.
“Tha
t lighthouse marks the opening of the canal to the sea.” Silas pointed. “If the wind’s blowing from the north, the waves will be big across the mouth of the channel where it shallows. The tide’s still coming in, which it shouldn’t be doing, but that’ll help. If the waves are breaking, we won’t be able to pass.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Just hang on. It’ll get bumpy, but Sea Change can take it.”
She nodded and gripped harder, bracing her back against the aft bulkhead.
The run from Kingsport to Gloucester had been rough, but not dangerous. Despite her terror, Abigail had been only mildly ill. The Annisquam bar, however, would be the telling tale. The winds of a nor’easter backed from east to northeast to north as the storm progressed up the coast. If the wind had already shifted to the north, the seas would race right into the mouth of the canal, and they’d be in for a real trouncing. Passing the bar in daylight with this weather would have been dangerous enough. Silas didn’t tell Abigail that doing it in the dark bordered on suicidal.
Silas squinted into the gloom as the lighthouse beam swept the sea. The swells rose across the bar in dark lines of shadow through the rain-streaked windows. They were large, but they weren’t breaking. Good timing or dumb luck, I’ll take it. He eased the throttle forward and Sea Change picked up speed.
The bow lifted as they mounted the first real swell, then tilted down into the trough. The next was steeper and the next even higher as they passed Wigwam Light. Silas flicked his gaze constantly between the compass and the sea. When the lighthouse beam swept past from astern, he glimpsed one of the channel buoys and altered course.
“What’s that light?” Abigail’s voice trembled as she pointed ahead.
“The sea buoy. It’s a good reference, but the one we need to find is red number four. That one’s not lit, but it marks the western shoal. Once that’s behind us, we can make our turn.”
Abigail bit back a squeak of terror as Sea Change pitched violently over a sharp swell.
“Don’t worry! The waves aren’t breaking!” Thank God… “We can make it!”
“Okay!” She didn’t sound convinced.
“Just help me look for a red buoy. Doing this with only one eye isn’t easy!”
“Sure!” She pressed her face closer to the rain-streaked glass.
Silas leaned out the pilothouse door and squinted into the rain as the beam of light swept the sea once more. Nothing… He couldn’t see when they were in the trough between waves. He had to get a look when they were atop one. Sea Change climbed over another swell, but the light didn’t sweep in time. Come on… Silas throttled back a bit, trying to time his progress with the light and the next wave.
A wave loomed, and the light swept the sea. Silas leaned out again and shielded his eye from the slashing rain.
“There!” Red number four shone clearly for an instant only fifty yards off their port bow.
“I see it!” Abigail sounded both panicked and triumphant.
“That buoy is our mark to turn. We’re right where we need to be!” He flashed her a grin, realizing that the tension and the motion of the sea had him feeling better than he had in weeks. “We’re good! We’re going to make it!”
“Oh, good!”
They passed the buoy, and Silas watched the swells. He’d have to time his turn just right. “Hang on, now. We’ll take at least one hard roll before we get pointed the right direction.”
“I am hanging on!”
Silas counted the swells, waiting for the peak seventh in the set. They climbed over the peak swell, and he wrenched the wheel hard to port. Sea Change answered as they raced down the back side of the swell. The next was not so high, but it caught them on the beam, rolling the boat so far that her gunnels dipped. Something crashed across the cabin behind him—the coffee pot maybe—but he didn’t have time to look. Another swell rolled them hard before her bow came around. The next they took on the quarter, lessening the roll but making steering more difficult. He fought the wheel to keep the bow down the wave and watched white water roar past.
“We’re making good time now!” He grinned at Abigail, but her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. “Abigail! We’re clear. We’re headed for Devil Reef. Just a few miles. It’s going to be roily, but in half an hour we’ll be in protected waters.” He steered by feel as another wave picked up their stern and they raced down a wave, keeping his eye on the compass.
“It’s pitch black out! How do you know where we are?” Abigail still didn’t sound convinced that they weren’t in mortal danger.
“See that light?” Silas pointed to the sweeping beam far off the port bow. “That’s the Innsmouth lighthouse.”
“Okay.”
“And that smaller light over there,” he pointed to starboard, “is the Essex Bay sea buoy. We’ll see the Plum Island Channel sea buoy before long and that’ll mark our turn inshore. I know the compass headings through the channel by heart.” He wasn’t about to tell her the danger of miscalculating his approach and actually hitting one of the reefs. There was no reason to worry her any further when the careening corkscrew motion of the boat already had her terrified.
After a half hour of enduring that millrace run downwind, white water roaring down the sides of the boat at every roll, Silas pointed out the Plum Island buoy and lined up his approach. Glancing behind them at the lighted buoy, the lighthouse, and the compass, he made his turn. The seas were now on the port stern quarter, which made the steering tricky. If he took one wrong, they could broach and roll. Without a chart or his logbook, he was going from memory, but when the sweep of Innsmouth lighthouse illuminated a ghostly white line of breakers on the reefs to starboard, he knew he was in the right spot. In ten minutes, the seas calmed, and he turned north.
“We’re behind the reefs.” Silas eased his grip on the wheel and flexed his hands to relieve cramped muscles.
“Thank Heavens!” Abigail rubbed her eyes and blinked, peering into the darkness. “I still can’t see a thing.”
“I know where we are, and I know the approach to Devil Reef from inshore. It’s tricky, but I’ve done it dozens of times.” He left out the part about not having his chart.
“I thought you said the Marshes don’t let anyone fish there.”
“They don’t.” He grinned at her. “But they can’t watch all the time. You can’t see the reef from town unless you climb the lighthouse or drive out to the beach.”
She peered out the window, then up at the sky. “What about our lights? Won’t they see them?”
“Oh, hell! Thanks!” Silas flipped the switch that killed their running lights. “I forgot. I never run at night without lights.”
“Nice to know I’m good for something.”
“I couldn’t do this without you, Abigail. This is your mystery, remember?”
“I wish I could forget!”
When Innsmouth light shone at the right bearing, Silas turned north and slipped between the shoals behind Devil Reef. Again, without his chart, he was going by memory. Then the light swept past to illuminate the roaring white line of the breakers on the reef.
Come to us…
So focused upon piloting through the storm, the shoals and reefs, Silas had forgotten the siren song that he felt on the beach. Now it sang along his every nerve. He gritted his teeth against that call, that yearning, and throttled back, approaching slowly. He no longer needed a chart to tell him where to go.
Almost home…yes…come to us…
“We’re close.” He pulled the throttle back to an idle. “I can feel it!”
“You can?” Abigail looked at him askance.
“Yes.” They slowed until the boat came to a dead stop against the howling wind. “Steer her straight into the wind for a moment while I drop anchor.”
“Okay.” Abigail took the wheel tentatively.
Silas strode out onto the bow and released the anchor. It plunged down into inky blackness, running free for sixty feet before it struck bo
ttom. He resisted the urge to dive in after it, and let out another two hundred feet before tying it off.
“We’re here,” he announced as he stepped back into the pilothouse and kicked the engine out of gear.
“Finally!” Abigail hurried aft to the chart table and pulled her tome from her satchel.
He joined her to peer at the page under a shuttered lantern. “Anything new?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him. “The time’s changed again, Silas.”
“When is it now?”
“Tomorrow night, just past midnight.” She jotted down a new set of numbers in her notebook and turned to show him. “It’s skipped up a whole day.”
“Damn it!” An uncharacteristic surge of anger welled up as if he’d just seen the second ace of hearts in a deck of cards. “Ever feel like we’re being flimflammed?”
“What, like this is just an elaborate trick or something?” Abigail blinked and shook her head. “No. You saw the numbers in the book change. That’s no trick.”
“I know, but what if…” His anger evolved into a cold dread in his gut. “Twelve hours ago, I walked into the surf because this place was calling to me. Now here I am, ready to get in the water. Maybe that’s exactly what it wants me to do.”
“What it wants you to do?” Confusion furrowed her brow.
“Yes! I can still feel it calling me, Abigail!” Silas clenched his scarred hands into fists. “Maybe we’re not preventing anything. Maybe that book’s lying to us, or whatever is going to bring about this end of the world needs me to do it! Maybe it sent you to me!”
“Silas, I… You don’t think that I’m trying to—”
“No! No, Abigail, not you. You saved me on that beach, but that book,” he stabbed a finger at the tome, “could just be a…a tool or a piece of something bigger that wants me to go down there.”
“But if you don’t go, and we can prevent this…”
“Or that’s what it wants and I help bring an end to the world!”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe it. A four hundred-year-old prophecy just to lure you into the water?”
Arkham Horror- The Deep Gate Page 6
