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- Говард Лавкрафт
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- Зов Ктулху
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- Стр. 10/13
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Our
Auckland
correspondent
gives
the
Emma
and
her
crew
an
excellent
reputation
,
and
Johansen
is
described
as
a
sober
and
worthy
man
.
The
admiralty
will
institute
an
inquiry
on
the
whole
matter
beginning
tomorrow
,
at
which
every
effort
will
be
made
to
induce
Johansen
to
speak
more
freely
than
he
has
done
hitherto
.
This
was
all
,
together
with
the
picture
of
the
hellish
image
;
but
what
a
train
of
ideas
it
started
in
my
mind
!
Here
were
new
treasuries
of
data
on
the
Cthulhu
Cult
,
and
evidence
that
it
had
strange
interests
at
sea
as
well
as
on
land
.
What
motive
prompted
the
hybrid
crew
to
order
back
the
Emma
as
they
sailed
about
with
their
hideous
idol
?
What
was
the
unknown
island
on
which
six
of
the
Emma
's
crew
had
died
,
and
about
which
the
mate
Johansen
was
so
secretive
?
What
had
the
vice-admiralty
's
investigation
brought
out
,
and
what
was
known
of
the
noxious
cult
in
Dunedin
?
And
most
marvellous
of
all
,
what
deep
and
more
than
natural
linkage
of
dates
was
this
which
gave
a
malign
and
now
undeniable
significance
to
the
various
turns
of
events
so
carefully
noted
by
my
uncle
?
March
1st
--
our
February
28th
according
to
the
International
Date
Line
--
the
earthquake
and
storm
had
come
.
From
Dunedin
the
Alert
and
her
noisome
crew
had
darted
eagerly
forth
as
if
imperiously
summoned
,
and
on
the
other
side
of
the
earth
poets
and
artists
had
begun
to
dream
of
a
strange
,
dank
Cyclopean
city
whilst
a
young
sculptor
had
moulded
in
his
sleep
the
form
of
the
dreaded
Cthulhu
.
March
23rd
the
crew
of
the
Emma
landed
on
an
unknown
island
and
left
six
men
dead
;
and
on
that
date
the
dreams
of
sensitive
men
assumed
a
heightened
vividness
and
darkened
with
dread
of
a
giant
monster
's
malign
pursuit
,
whilst
an
architect
had
gone
mad
and
a
sculptor
had
lapsed
suddenly
into
delirium
!
And
what
of
this
storm
of
April
2nd
--
the
date
on
which
all
dreams
of
the
dank
city
ceased
,
and
Wilcox
emerged
unharmed
from
the
bondage
of
strange
fever
?
What
of
all
this
--
and
of
those
hints
of
old
Castro
about
the
sunken
,
star-born
Old
Ones
and
their
coming
reign
;
their
faithful
cult
and
their
mastery
of
dreams
?
Was
I
tottering
on
the
brink
of
cosmic
horrors
beyond
man
's
power
to
bear
?
If
so
,
they
must
be
horrors
of
the
mind
alone
,
for
in
some
way
the
second
of
April
had
put
a
stop
to
whatever
monstrous
menace
had
begun
its
siege
of
mankind
's
soul
.
That
evening
,
after
a
day
of
hurried
cabling
and
arranging
,
I
bade
my
host
adieu
and
took
a
train
for
San
Francisco
.
In
less
than
a
month
I
was
in
Dunedin
;
where
,
however
,
I
found
that
little
was
known
of
the
strange
cult-members
who
had
lingered
in
the
old
sea-taverns
.
Waterfront
scum
was
far
too
common
for
special
mention
;
though
there
was
vague
talk
about
one
inland
trip
these
mongrels
had
made
,
during
which
faint
drumming
and
red
flame
were
noted
on
the
distant
hills
.
In
Auckland
I
learned
that
Johansen
had
returned
with
yellow
hair
turned
white
after
a
perfunctory
and
inconclusive
questioning
at
Sydney
,
and
had
thereafter
sold
his
cottage
in
West
Street
and
sailed
with
his
wife
to
his
old
home
in
Oslo
.
Of
his
stirring
experience
he
would
tell
his
friends
no
more
than
he
had
told
the
admiralty
officials
,
and
all
they
could
do
was
to
give
me
his
Oslo
address
.
After
that
I
went
to
Sydney
and
talked
profitlessly
with
seamen
and
members
of
the
vice-admiralty
court
.
I
saw
the
Alert
,
now
sold
and
in
commercial
use
,
at
Circular
Quay
in
Sydney
Cove
,
but
gained
nothing
from
its
non-committal
bulk
.
The
crouching
image
with
its
cuttlefish
head
,
dragon
body
,
scaly
wings
,
and
hieroglyphed
pedestal
,
was
preserved
in
the
Museum
at
Hyde
Park
;
and
I
studied
it
long
and
well
,
finding
it
a
thing
of
balefully
exquisite
workmanship
,
and
with
the
same
utter
mystery
,
terrible
antiquity
,
and
unearthly
strangeness
of
material
which
I
had
noted
in
Legrasse
's
smaller
specimen
.
Geologists
,
the
curator
told
me
,
had
found
it
a
monstrous
puzzle
;
for
they
vowed
that
the
world
held
no
rock
like
it
.
Then
I
thought
with
a
shudder
of
what
Old
Castro
had
told
Legrasse
about
the
Great
Ones
;
"
They
had
come
from
the
stars
,
and
had
brought
Their
images
with
Them
.
"
Shaken
with
such
a
mental
revolution
as
I
had
never
before
known
,
I
now
resolved
to
visit
Mate
Johansen
in
Oslo
.
Sailing
for
London
,
I
reembarked
at
once
for
the
Norwegian
capital
;
and
one
autumn
day
landed
at
the
trim
wharves
in
the
shadow
of
the
Egeberg
.
Johansen
's
address
,
I
discovered
,
lay
in
the
Old
Town
of
King
Harold
Haardrada
,
which
kept
alive
the
name
of
Oslo
during
all
the
centuries
that
the
greater
city
masqueraded
as
"
Christiana
"
.
I
made
the
brief
trip
by
taxicab
,
and
knocked
with
palpitant
heart
at
the
door
of
a
neat
and
ancient
building
with
plastered
front
.
A
sad-faced
woman
in
black
answered
my
summons
,
and
I
was
stung
with
disappointment
when
she
told
me
in
halting
English
that
Gustaf
Johansen
was
no
more
.
He
had
not
long
survived
his
return
,
said
his
wife
,
for
the
doings
at
sea
in
1925
had
broken
him
.
He
had
told
her
no
more
than
he
had
told
the
public
,
but
had
left
a
long
manuscript
--
of
"
technical
matters
"
as
he
said
--
written
in
English
,
evidently
in
order
to
safeguard
her
from
the
peril
of
casual
perusal
.
During
a
walk
through
a
narrow
lane
near
the
Gothenburg
dock
,
a
bundle
of
papers
falling
from
an
attic
window
had
knocked
him
down
.
