by Anthology
As you are doubtless aware, all efforts to locate the aeon-old city of Yuth have been doomed to failure for the Book of K’yog has been lost for countless millenia and the cataclysmic events which annihilated Yuth, coupled with the geological upheavals which have altered the Earth’s surface since that time, mean that it may never be found.
However, all may not necessarily be lost. I have recently read that certain underwater discoveries have been made off the Bimini Islands, which form part of the Bahamas. There is a road constructed of huge stone blocks and my own re-assessment of the various legends indicate that it is just possible Yuth lies there, submerged beneath the ocean for there are a number of scientific facts to support one of two theories. Firstly that a large meteor shower struck the region off the Carolina coast some fifteen thousand years ago as witnessed by the numerous craters which have been found there and secondly, that the rapid melting of the Laurentide ice-sheet twelve thousand years ago utterly inundated the area around the Bahamas.
Your sincere friend,
Marcus Goravius.
I replaced the mystic letters in the box and carefully closed the lid. There the matter may have ended for there seemed no other avenues of research I could explore regarding this fantastic race of long-forgotten aeons. But events were soon to transpire which were to lead me into a realm of cosmic horror that transcended anything I had ever imagined and result in the horrific death of Professor Dorman.
The sequence of events began some three weeks later when it was announced that the university had been chosen to mount a small-scale archaeological expedition and one of the three suggested sites, one was Bimini.
Of the other two, one was a site in the middle of the Brazilian jungle and the third among the foothills of the Andes. Dorman and I discussed the alternatives at great length and, although leaving him ignorant of my true motives, I was finally able to persuade him that the Bimini site was the most logical since it was readily accessible, still posed several unsolved questions of archaeological importance in spite of the work which had already been carried out there, and would require less financing than the other two.
Since we were not due to start out for another four months we were able to ensure that our preparations were extremely thorough. The team was to consist of Dorman, two senior members of the Archaeology Department, Conlon and Brown, and myself. Two ships were put at our disposal, one carrying a bathysphere with all its ancillary equipment. We also made arrangements for a light aircraft to be based on the island so that aerial photographs might be taken of the various submerged artifacts, which were known to lie in the shallow waters off the island. Any divers we might need could readily be hired for the purpose once we arrived.
We flew down to Miami at the beginning of April where we joined the ship that was to take us the fifty miles or so to North Bimini. The second vessel had gone ahead and was anchored in the lagoon on the opposite side of the island to Paradise point, northwest of which lay what had come to be known as the Bimini Road, an underwater structure of regular and polygonal stones.
We finally arrived after a pleasant and uneventful crossing and caught our first sight of the islands in brilliant sunshine, going ashore at the small settlement of Bailey Town.
In view of my unspoken knowledge concerning an alien race that had existed on Earth thousands of years prior to the advent of man on this planet, I was anxious to begin work at once. But Dorman vetoed such a plan, insisting it was essential we did not waste our efforts by mistakenly repeating earlier work. It was not, he maintained, as if we had discovered a completely new archaeological site where we could excavate almost anywhere in the hope of making new and important finds.
With this I had to be content for I could see the wisdom in what he said. Accordingly, the first couple of days were spent in getting all of the gear ready and surveying the maps of the undersea discoveries already made. We knew that carbon dating had already been done on that plant and animal life found in the blocks of stone, which made up the Bimini Road. These indicated these remains to be between six and twelve thousand years old although the age of the huge stones themselves was probably much older than this since they were being constantly re-crystallized due to the high mineral content of the water itself.
It was finally agreed that we would begin our examination of the ocean bed considerably further from the island than had hitherto been possible, using the bathysphere. This was of the most modern design, capable of withstanding tremendous pressures and equipped, not only with a battery of powerful searchlights but also scoops and grabs for retrieving objects from the floor of the sea, all manipulated from inside. The sphere was also large enough for two men to be seated in comfort and messages and instructions could be relayed to the surface by means of a radio-telephone link. Three exterior cameras, one using infrared film completed the battery of scientific instruments.
On the morning of the third day we went out to the waiting vessel and headed north until we reached a point some thirty miles from Bimini. It had already been agreed that Conlon and I should make the first descent and it was with a feeling of mounting excitement and trepidation that I followed Conlon into the confined space of the bathysphere and seated myself in front of the bank of instruments.
The hatch was closed and made secure before we were lifted from the deck and lowered over the side. A few moments later we hit the water and began the descent into the blue-green world that gradually became darker as we went down. I must confess I was the more nervous for I could not help recalling that apocryphal letter addressed to Jethro Haworth shortly before his death and I was oddly afraid of what we might see in the beams of the searchlights once we approached the bottom. Was it possible that the site of legendary Yuth lay directly below us? And if so, what alien wonders lay beneath the mud and ooze of the seabed, hidden from sight for untold thousands of years?
The mere thought of finding this long-lost city filled me with a chill that not even the warmth inside the bathysphere could erase. I attempted to put the notion out of my mind by concentrating on the task that lay ahead of us. Conlon switched on the lights and we were both surprised by the sheer clarity of the water. All around us were shoals of multi-colored fish and long green streamers of sea grass.
The ocean at this point was some forty feet in depth for we were very close to the sandy shelf and Conlon was the first to spot the bottom, a smoothly undulating plain covered with strange markings and long waving strands of seaweed. We were then about ten feet above the bottom and I called the ship to move very slowly ahead while my companion began filming. Here and there, we noticed curious regularities just visible in the sand—edges of almost perfect cubes poking up from the ocean floor where the currents had swept away some of the clinging mud.
We were now progressing slowly northward and below us the shelf was falling away into greater depths. More of the oddly-shaped objects now became visible and it became clear that the surging currents had swept much of the overlying sand and silt away, depositing it over the lip of the shelf which we knew lay less than a quarter of mile away. I seemed to see patterns and configurations in those half-concealed blocks which suggested artificiality which grew more and more pronounced the further we went over that fantastic seabed.
I mentioned some of this to Conlon but he was far more cautious and conservative in his outlook, believing them to be nothing more than natural limestone blocks, which had been split by nature into such seemingly regular features. That this could happen and was, indeed, a well-known phenomenon did little to lessen my growing apprehension.
A few minutes later, when the beam from one of the searchlights picked out a tall monolith thrusting from the sand, encrusted with shells and festooned with seaweed, I felt certain there were odd carvings visible on the surface but Conlon merely laughed at my suggestion, saying that my eyes were playing tricks with me and making me imagine things that were not there.
All this time, we had been in constant touch with the vessel and now we asked tha
t we should continue northward until we reached the much deeper water so that we might glimpse whatever lay at much deeper levels. So far, we had come across nothing sufficiently interesting to attempt to bring to the surface.
Dorman was, at first, reluctant to agree but permission was eventually given and we began to drift more rapidly northward. Ahead of us, the ocean floor sloped downward at an increasing angle and the general topography of the undersea terrain became more strange so that Conlon was forced to admit there was something not quite right in the way odd protrusions assumed domelike shapes with the hint of shattered pillars and marble columns lying at angles all around them. Curiously, I felt more at ease on seeing these artefacts which spoke of them being manmade rather than natural fabrications for if, as they suggested, they were of marble, gleaming whitely in the light, they formed no part of the alien, gray city of Yuth.
Here and there were isolated time-shattered columns and we decided that, once we had taken a look beyond the limestone shelf, we would pick up one of these objects and take it to the surface where we could examine it at our leisure.
Less than five minutes later a long, almost straight line of darkness appeared directly in front of us, stretching away in an unbroken line in both directions. We knew immediately what it was we were seeing the edge of the shallows around the islands. Beyond, lay the dark abyss whose depths we did not know.
I think we both held our breaths, sitting forward in our seats, as we stared through the toughened glass of the porthole, straining our vision to make out details in the single beam that shone downward. The light touched the edge of the shelf and then we had crossed over it and only an inky blackness confronted us. There was now a much more powerful current tugging at the bathysphere, pushing it forward on the cable and for a while we found ourselves swinging helplessly like a pendulum, unable to control our movements.
After a while the swinging ceased and with the motion of the bathysphere stabilized we were able to give the signal for the metal sphere to be lowered. To one side of us, the looming rock wall ascended slowly with vague outcroppings, which showed eerily in the light. Despite the slowness of our descent into the gloom, we were unable to discern much detail although there was no doubt that at some time in the far past, titanic convulsions had taken place here.
Below us, the blackness was absolute, the beam penetrating it for only a little way in stark contrast to the clarity of the water above the shallow shelf.
Then, almost before we were aware of it, we caught a fragmentary glimpse of something that rose from those benighted depths, clawing up from the unseen floor. My initial impression was of a jagged line of cones, spaced out at irregular intervals; thick, blunted needles of some curious rock formation, which evidently covered a wide area.
To me, they held ineffable suggestions of a blasphemous structural architecture unlike anything I had ever seen. Conlon and I gazed at them in awe as we drifted slowly above them, striving to imbue them with some form of normality. How high they loomed above the ocean floor it was impossible even to guess, for the searchlight beam only touched their topmost regions. But even this was enough to show the sheer alieness of their general outlines. Had they been mere conical towers, it would not have offended our sense of perspective to such a degree. But there were bulbous appendages and truncated cones, which intermeshed in angles bearing no relation to Euclidean geometry and I felt my eyes twist horribly as I tried vainly to take in everything I saw.
That Conlon was similarly affected, I saw at once. His hands were white-knuckled on the controls in front of him and his features bore an expression of mingled awe and surprise.
“What is it?” he asked finally. “Atlantis?”
I managed to shake my head. “Not Atlantis.” I said. “Those ruins are far older and too alien to be Atlantis.”
“Then what?”
“Yuth, perhaps.” I said in a hushed voice although I could tell by the look on his face that he had never heard the name.
I did not elaborate because we were now too engrossed in checking the three cameras and watching the unfolding of the awesome scene below us. I could not help feeling there was something evil about those nightmarishly misshapen spires and pinnacles with their bizarre curves and planes; and yet it was not an evil associated with Earth but rather with endless gulfs of space and time, with dimensions other than those we know.
The majority were smashed and broken with harsh, gaping orifices showing blackly against the sickly gray. Certainly no hand of man had erected them and carved their cruel, hideous contours. Despite his sense of awe, Conlon wished to descend deeper, to determine the height of the buildings and what lay beneath but I hastily overruled him. The obscure quality of menace in their weird symbolism made me shudder and long for the sanity and safety of the ship.
Accordingly, I gave the order to raise the bathysphere and bring us back over the shelf where we soon succeeded in lifting one of the marble columns from the mud where it had lain for countless centuries.
Back on board the vessel we supervised the unloading of the pillar and the films from the cameras. While Brown developed the latter, Dorman, Conlon and I examined the remains of the pillar that bore curious resemblances to the classical early Greek style. Indeed, many of the fluted carvings were almost identical to those seen in the Athenian ruins. But the material from which it had been fashioned was a mystery. Certainly it was unlike any other form of marble known to us and as to the quarry from whence it had originally come, none of us could hazard a guess.
It was when we came to describe what we had seen in the much deeper water off the shelf, however, that Dorman evinced scepticism. While he was quite prepared to believe that some civilization had existed at this spot perhaps four thousand years ago, he could not accept that the curious structures we had seen later were anything but natural rock formations probably thrust up from the seabed by minor volcanic activity during some past geological age.
Even after the films had been developed and we watched them in a darkened room, he refused to alter his opinion. There was no doubt that seeing them as mere flickering shadows on a white screen, in the relative comfort of the room, they lost some of their air of menace and mystery and it was possible to attach any explanation one wished to their nature and origin. Even Conlon appeared swayed by Dorman’s persuasive arguments, agreeing that vulcanism could produce weird and wonderfully shaped forms, particularly when it occurred underwater when there were both pressure and cooling effects to be taken into account.
But I remained unconvinced for nothing could shake my conclusion that out there, only forty miles from where we lay at anchor, was that Cyclopean city of gray stone, Yuth, built by artificially bred creatures that had come from the very rim of the solar system when the Earth was young, bearing a hideous, amorphous thing with them which they had worshipped as a god. Tsathoggua, one of that incredibly ancient race which had been flung down from the ethereal abysses onto the cooling magma of newly-formed planets.
That night, as I stood on deck, leaning against the rail and looking towards the north, I thought I saw vague, flickering lights on the distant horizon and a pallid gleam of glittering radiance, barely visible, which rose from the ocean towards the clear heavens. I drew the attention of one of the crew to it, but he maintained it was simply the glow of phosphorescence, which one often saw at sea.
The following day, a sudden squall blew up with the wind gusting from the northwest and the sea became too choppy for any underwater exploration to be attempted. Driving sheets of rain forced us to remain undercover and I spent much of my time with Brown in the small cabin, which had been fitted out as a darkroom. Here, we enlarged a number of the frames from the films, blowing them up as far as possible to bring out minute details of the grotesque spires. Two of these were of particular significance, for to me they clearly showed that no force of blind nature could have shaped such regular features.
There were also disturbing markings on one of the towers, less shattered and e
roded than the others; markings which were oddly arranged in wide spirals which began at the top and descended into the unguessable depths of unplumbed blackness below. With the aid of a magnifying glass I was able to pick out curves and symbols, mostly incomplete, which tended to form such unnatural and terrifying patterns that I almost cried out aloud at the discovery and made Brown verify them.
When we showed them to Dorman he was forced to agree that, in spite of his initial scepticism, there was something pertaining to this region of monolithic spires, which warranted further investigation although he still refused to commit himself to my way of thinking.
By the next day, the wind had abated and the skies had cleared and with a calm, unruffled sea, it was agreed that a second descent of the bathysphere would be made. By now, my imagination had reached fever pitch and when the decision was made for Dorman and myself to make the descent, I was beset by odd, irrational fears in the face of Dorman’s determination to proceed to the bottom of the deep trough which lay forty miles distant.
My sense of fearful expectancy as I climbed inside the bathysphere some two hours later can scarcely be described on paper for I knew that soon we would be touching a world that had been untrodden for close on thirty thousand years. Since we would be going deeper than before we made our preparations with undue care, checking and rechecking all of the apparatus. This time, we each carried a pair of powerful binoculars in order to make out more detail in that black world wherein slumbered the unknown secrets of an alien, elder race.
The first part of our descent was uneventful. There were two wide portholes facing in opposite directions and Dorman sat in front of one while I peered through the other, my gaze constantly fixed on what lay below us, taking little notice of the marine life which clustered abundantly all around us. As we went deeper, however, the number of fish I saw diminished rapidly until, when I judged we were below the level of the island shelf, they were curiously conspicuous by their complete absence.
