Тень над Иннсмутом

           Whentheviewofthewateragainopenedout—thistimeonmyright—Iwashalf-determinednottolookatitatall.Icouldnothowever,resist;butcastasidelongglanceasIcarefullyandimitativelyshambledtowardtheprotectingshadowsahead.Therewasnoshipvisible,asIhadhalf-expectedtherewouldbe.Instead,thefirstthingwhichcaughtmyeyewasasmallrowboatpullingintowardtheabandonedwharvesandladenwithsomebulky,tarpaulin-coveredobject.Itsrowers,thoughdistantlyandindistinctlyseen,wereofanespeciallyrepellentaspect.Severalswimmerswerestilldiscernible;whileonthefarblackreefIcouldseeafaint,steadyglowunlikethewinkingbeaconvisiblebefore,andofacuriouscolourwhichIcouldnotpreciselyidentify.AbovetheslantroofsaheadandtotherightthereloomedthetallcupolaoftheGilmanHouse,butitwascompletelydark.Thefishyodour,dispelledforamomentbysomemercifulbreeze,nowclosedinagainwithmaddeningintensity.

           IhadnotquitecrossedthestreetwhenIheardamutteringbandadvancingalongWashingtonfromthenorth.AstheyreachedthebroadopenspacewhereIhadhadmyfirstdisquietingglimpseofthemoonlitwaterIcouldseethemplainlyonlyablockaway—andwashorrifiedbythebestialabnormalityoftheirfacesandthedoglikesub-humannessoftheircrouchinggait.Onemanmovedinapositivelysimianway,withlongarmsfrequentlytouchingtheground;whileanotherfigure—robedandtiaraed—seemedtoprogressinanalmosthoppingfashion.