The Horror Stories of Robert E. Howard (16 page)

“Now, you have worked your will, and the sun will soon rise. Before that time you must be far below the green waters, basking in the accursed caverns that human eye has never looked upon save in death.

There lies the sea and safety; I bar the way alone.”

He came upon me like a towering wave and his arms were like green serpents about me. I knew they were crushing me, yet I felt as if I were drowning instead, and even then understood the expression that had puzzled me on Michael Hansen’s face–that of a drowned man.

I was looking into the inhuman eyes of the monster and it was as if I gazed into untold depths of oceans–depths into which I should presently tumble and drown. And I felt scales–

Neck, arm and shoulder he gripped me, bending me back to break my spine, and I drove my knife into his body again–and again–and again. He roared once, the only sound I ever heard him make, and it was like the roar of the tides among the shoals. Like the pressure of a hundred fathoms of green water was the grasp upon my body and limbs and then, as I thrust again, he gave way and crumpled to the beach.

He lay there writhing and then was still, and already he had begun to change. Mermen, the ancients named his kind, knowing they were endowed with strange attributes, one of which was the ability to take the full form of a man if lifted from the ocean by the hands of men. I bent and tore the human clothing from the thing. And the first gleams of the sun fell upon a slimy and moldering mass of sea-weed, from which stared two hideous dead eyes–a formless bulk that lay at the water’s edge, where the first high wave would bear it back to that from which it came, the cold jade ocean deeps.

A Legend of Faring Town

Her house, a moulting buzzard on the Hill

Loomed gaunt and brooding over Faring town;

Behind, there sloped away the barren down

And at its foot an ancient, crumbling mill.

And often in the evening bleak and still,

With withered limbs wrapped in a sombre gown

And leathery face set in a sombre frown,

She sat in silence on her silent sill.

She came to Faring town long years ago–

With her a winsome child, the ancients said,

She vanished, where, the people did not know–

Meg mended ropes for ocean vessels’ sails

And let the people think the child was dead–

She did not speak, but there were darksome tales.

One night the village flamed with sudden red–

From off Meg’s roof we saw the cinders stream.

She came not forth–we entered–and in the gleam,

Saw her crouching, like a thing of dread,

Above a skeleton within her bed.

“Child slayer!” I still hear the women scream–

High a red and cinder spitting beam;

We hanged her and the flames consumed the dead.

A book we found, and written piteously

In Meg’s sad scrawl: “Today my darling died

“But she shall sleep forever by my side–

“They shall not give her to the cruel sea.”

We cringed and gazed in terror and in shame

Where still a form swung black against the flame.

Restless Waters

As if it were yesterday, I remember that terrible night in the Silver Slipper, in the late fall of 1845.

Outside, the wind roared in an icy gale and the sleet drove with it, till it rattled against the windows like the knucklebones of a skeleton. As we sat about the tavern fire, we could hear, booming above the wind and the sleet, the thunder of the white surges that beat frenziedly against the stark New England coast.

The ships in the harbor of the little seaport town lay double anchored, and the captains sought the warmth and companionship to be found in the wharf-side taverns.

There in the Silver Slipper that night were four men and I, the tap boy. There was Ezra Harper, the host; John Gower, captain of the
Sea-Woman
; Jonas Hopkins, a lawyer out of Salem; and Captain Starkey of
The Vulture
. These four men sat about the heavy oaken table in front of the great fire which roared in the fireplace, and I scurried about the tavern attending to their wants, filling mugs, and heating spiced drinks.

Captain Starkey sat with his back to the fire facing a window whereon the sleet beat and rattled. Ezra Harper sat at his right, at the end of the table, Captain Gower sat at the other end, and the lawyer, Jonas Hopkins, sat directly opposite Starkey, with his back to the window and facing the fire.

“More brandy!” Starkey roared, hammering the table with his great knotty fist. He was a rough giant of a man in middle life, with a short thick black beard and eyes that gleamed from beneath heavy black brows.

“A cold night for them that sail the sea,” said Ezra Harper.

“A colder night for the men that sleep below the sea,” said John Gower moodily. He was a tall rangy man, dark and saturnine of countenance, a strange wayward man of whom dark tales were told.

Starkey laughed savagely. “If you’re thinking of Tom Siler, you’d best save your sympathy. Earth is the gainer for his going, and the sea is no better for it. A vile, murdering mutineer!” he roared the last in a sudden fury and smote the table resoundingly, glaring about as if to challenge any to dispute him.

A mocking smile flitted across the sinister countenance of John Gower, and Jonas Hopkins leaned forward, his keen eyes boring into Starkey’s. Like all of us, he knew the story of Tom Siler, as told by Captain Starkey: how Siler, first mate aboard
The Vulture
, had sought to incite the crew to mutiny and piracy, had been tricked by Starkey and hanged at sea. Those were hard days and the captain’s word was law at sea.

“Strange,” said Jonas Hopkins, with his thin colorless face thrust at Captain Starkey. “Strange that Tom Siler should turn out bad, and him such a law abiding lad before this.”

Starkey merely grunted disdainfully and emptied his cup. He was already drunk.

“When does your niece, Betty, marry Joseph Harmer, captain?” asked Ezra Harper, seeking to change the subject into safer channels. Jonas Hopkins sank back in his seat and turned his attention to his rum.

“Tomorrow,” snarled Starkey.

Gower laughed shortly. “Is it a wife or a daughter Joe Harmer wants that he’s marrying a girl so much younger than he?”

“John Gower, you’ll oblige me by attending to your own cursed business!” roared Starkey. “The hussy should be overjoyed to be marrying a man like Harmer, who is one of the wealthiest ship owners in New England.”

“But Betty doesn’t think so, does she?” persisted John Gower, as if intent on stirring up trouble. “She’s still sorrowing for Dick Hansen, isn’t she?”

Captain Starkey’s hairy hands clenched into fists and he glared at Gower as if this questioning of his private affairs was too much. Then he gulped down his rum and slammed the mug down on the board.

“There’s no accounting for the whims of a girl,” he said moodily. “If she wants to waste her life lamenting a wastrel who ran away and got himself drowned, that’s her business. But it’s my affair to see she marries properly.”

“And how much is Joe Harmer paying you, Starkey?” asked John Gower bluntly.

This passed the point of civility and discretion. Starkey’s huge body heaved up out of his seat and, with a bellow, he leaned across the table, eyes red with drink and fury, and his iron fist lifted. Gower did not move, but sat smiling up at him slit-eyed and dangerous.

“Sit down, Starkey!” Ezra Harper interposed. “John, the devil’s in you tonight. Why can’t we all take our liquor together friendly-like–”

This philosophical discourse was cut short abruptly. The heavy door was suddenly thrown open, a rush of wind made the candle dance and flicker wildly, and in the swirl of sleet that burst in, we saw a girl standing. I sprang forward and shut the door behind her.

“Betty!”

The girl was slim, almost frail. Her large dark eyes stared wildly, and her pretty pale face was streaked with tears. Her hair fell loose about her slender shoulders and her garments were soaked and battered by the gale through which she had battled her way.

“Betty!” roared Captain Starkey. “I thought you were at home in bed! What are you doing here–and on a night like this?”

“Oh, uncle!” she cried, holding her arms out to him blindly, oblivious to the rest of us. “I came to tell you again! I can’t marry Joseph Harmer tomorrow! I can’t! It’s Dick Hansen! He’s calling to me through the wind and the night and the black waters! Alive or dead, I’m his till I die, and I can’t–I can’t–”

“Get out!” roared Starkey, stamping and brandishing his arms like a maniac. “Out with you and back to your room! I’ll attend to you later! Be silent! You’ll marry Joe Harmer tomorrow or I’ll beat you to death!”

With a whimper she sank to her knees before him, and with a bellow he raised his huge fist as if to strike her. But with one cat-like movement John Gower was out of his seat and had hurled the enraged captain back upon the table.

“Keep your hands off me, you damned pirate!” shouted Starkey furiously.

Gower grinned bleakly. “That’s yet to be proven,” said he. “But lay a finger on this child and we’ll see how quick a ‘damned pirate’ can cut the heart out of an honest merchantman who’s selling his own blood and kin to a miser.”

“Let be, John,” Ezra Harper interposed. “Starkey, don’t you see the girl’s in a fair way to collapse?

Here, honey,” he bent and lifted her gently, “come with old Ezra. There’s a warm fire in an upper room, and my wife shall give you some dry clothes. It’s a bitter night for a girl to be out in. You’ll stay with us till morning, dearie.”

He went up the stair, half carrying the girl; and Starkey, after staring after them for a moment, returned to the table. There was silence awhile, and then Jonas Hopkins, who had not moved out of his seat, said:

“Strange tales making the rounds, Captain Starkey.”

“And what might they be?” asked Starkey defiantly.

Jonas Hopkins stuffed his long slim-stemmed pipe with Virginia tobacco before he answered.

“I talked with some of your crew today.”

“Huh!” Starkey spat out an oath. “My ship makes port this morning and before night the gossips are at work.”

Hopkins beckoned me for a coal for his pipe. I obliged, and he took several long puffs.

“Mayhap they have something to work on this time, Captain Starkey.”

“Speak up, man!” said Starkey angrily. “What are you driving at?”

“They say on board
The Vulture
that Tom Siler was never guilty of mutiny. They say that you trumped up the charges and hanged him out of hand in spite of the protests of the crew.”

Starkey laughed savagely but hollowly. “And what basis for this wild tale?”

“They say that as he stood on the threshold of Eternity, Tom Siler swore that you were murdering him because he had learned what became of Dick Hansen. But before he could say more, the noose shut off his words and his life.”

“Dick Hansen!” Starkey’s face was pale, but his tone still defiant. “Dick Hansen was last seen on the wharfs of Salem one night over a year ago. What have I to do with him?”

“You wanted Betty to marry Joe Harmer, who was ready to buy her like a slave from you,” answered Jonas Hopkins calmly. “This much is known by all.”

John Gower nodded agreement.

“She was to marry Dick Hansen, though, and you had him shanghaied on board a British whaler bound on a four year cruise. Then you spread the report that he had been drowned and tried to rush Betty into marrying Harmer against her will, before Hansen could return. When you learned that Siler knew and would tell Betty, you became desperate. I know that you are on the verge of bankruptcy. Your only chance was the money Harmer had promised you. You murdered Tom Siler to still his mouth.”

Another silence fell. Outside in the black night, the wind rose to a shriek. Starkey twisted his great fingers together and sat silent and brooding.

“And can you prove all this?” he sneered at last.

“I can prove that you are nearly bankrupt and that Harmer promised you money; I can prove that you had Hansen done away with.”

“But you can’t prove that Siler was not contemplating mutiny,” shouted Starkey. “And how can you prove Hansen was shanghaied?”

“This morning I received a letter from my agent who had just arrived in Boston,” said Hopkins. “He had seen Hansen in an Asiatic seaport. The young man said that he intended deserting ship at the first opportunity, and returning to America. He asked that Betty be acquainted with the fact that he was alive and still loved her.”

Starkey rested his elbows on the table and sank his chin on his fists, like a man who sees his castles falling about him and red ruin facing him. Then he shook his mighty shoulders and laughed savagely. He drained his cup and reeled to his feet, bellowing with sudden laughter.

“I’ve still a card or two in my hand!” he shouted. “Tom Siler’s in Hell with a noose around his neck, and Dick Hansen’s across the world! The girl’s my ward and a minor, and she’ll marry whoever I say. You can’t prove what you say about Siler. My word’s law on the high seas, and you can’t call me to account for anything I do aboard my own ship. As for Dick Hansen–my niece will be safely married to Joe Harmer long before that young fool gets back from his cruise. Go tell her if you like. Go tell her Dick Hansen still lives!”

“That’s what I intend to do,” said Jonas Hopkins, rising. “And should have done so before now, had I not wished to face you with the facts first.”

“Great good it will do!” yelled Starkey like a wild man. He seemed like some savage beast at bay, defying us all. His eyes flamed terribly from under his craggy brows, and his fingers were crooked like talons. He snatched a goblet of liquor from the table and waved it.

“Aye, go tell her! She’ll marry Harmer, or I’ll kill her. Contrive and plot, you yellow-spined swine, no living man can balk me now, and no living man can save her from being the wife of Joe Harmer!

“Here’s a toast, you cringing cowards! I’ll drink to Tom Siler, sleeping in the cold white sea with the noose about his traitor’s neck. Here’s to my mate, Tom Siler, a-spinning and a-twirling from the cross-trees–”