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- Говард Лавкрафт
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- Тень над Иннсмутом
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- Стр. 3/41
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"
Well
,
there
must
be
something
like
that
back
of
the
Innsmouth
people
.
The
place
always
was
badly
cut
off
from
the
rest
of
the
country
by
marshes
and
creeks
and
we
ca
n't
be
sure
about
the
ins
and
outs
of
the
matter
;
but
it
's
pretty
clear
that
old
Captain
Marsh
must
have
brought
home
some
odd
specimens
when
he
had
all
three
of
his
ships
in
commission
back
in
the
twenties
and
thirties
.
There
certainly
is
a
strange
kind
of
streak
in
the
Innsmouth
folks
today
--
I
do
n't
know
how
to
explain
it
but
it
sort
of
makes
you
crawl
.
You
'll
notice
a
little
in
Sargent
if
you
take
his
bus
.
Some
of
'em
have
queer
narrow
heads
with
flat
noses
and
bulgy
,
stary
eyes
that
never
seem
to
shut
,
and
their
skin
ai
n't
quite
right
.
Rough
and
scabby
,
and
the
sides
of
the
necks
are
all
shriveled
or
creased
up
.
Get
bald
,
too
,
very
young
.
The
older
fellows
look
the
worst
--
fact
is
,
I
do
n't
believe
I
've
ever
seen
a
very
old
chap
of
that
kind
.
Guess
they
must
die
of
looking
in
the
glass
!
Animals
hate
'em
--
they
used
to
have
lots
of
horse
trouble
before
the
autos
came
in
.
"
Nobody
around
here
or
in
Arkham
or
Ipswich
will
have
anything
to
do
with
'em
,
and
they
act
kind
of
offish
themselves
when
they
come
to
town
or
when
anyone
tries
to
fish
on
their
grounds
.
Queer
how
fish
are
always
thick
off
Innsmouth
Harbour
when
there
ai
n't
any
anywhere
else
around
--
but
just
try
to
fish
there
yourself
and
see
how
the
folks
chase
you
off
!
Those
people
used
to
come
here
on
the
railroad
--
walking
and
taking
the
train
at
Rowley
after
the
branch
was
dropped
--
but
now
they
use
that
bus
.
"
Yes
,
there
's
a
hotel
in
Innsmouth
--
called
the
Gilman
House
--
but
I
do
n't
believe
it
can
amount
to
much
.
I
would
n't
advise
you
to
try
it
.
Better
stay
over
here
and
take
the
ten
o'clock
bus
tomorrow
morning
;
then
you
can
get
an
evening
bus
there
for
Arkham
at
eight
o'clock
.
There
was
a
factory
inspector
who
stopped
at
the
Gilman
a
couple
of
years
ago
and
he
had
a
lot
of
unpleasant
hints
about
the
place
.
Seems
they
get
a
queer
crowd
there
,
for
this
fellow
heard
voices
in
other
rooms
--
though
most
of
'em
was
empty
--
that
gave
him
the
shivers
.
It
was
foreign
talk
he
thought
,
but
he
said
the
bad
thing
about
it
was
the
kind
of
voice
that
sometimes
spoke
.
It
sounded
so
unnatural
--
slopping
like
,
he
said
--
that
he
did
n't
dare
undress
and
go
to
sleep
.
Just
waited
up
and
lit
out
the
first
thing
in
the
morning
.
The
talk
went
on
most
all
night
.
"
This
fellow
--
Casey
,
his
name
was
--
had
a
lot
to
say
about
how
the
Innsmouth
folk
watched
him
and
seemed
kind
of
on
guard
.
He
found
the
Marsh
refinery
a
queer
place
--
it
's
in
an
old
mill
on
the
lower
falls
of
the
Manuxet
.
What
he
said
tallied
up
with
what
I
'd
heard
.
Books
in
bad
shape
,
and
no
clear
account
of
any
kind
of
dealings
.
You
know
it
's
always
been
a
kind
of
mystery
where
the
Marshes
get
the
gold
they
refine
.
They
've
never
seemed
to
do
much
buying
in
that
line
,
but
years
ago
they
shipped
out
an
enormous
lot
of
ingots
.
"
Used
to
be
talk
of
a
queer
foreign
kind
of
jewelry
that
the
sailors
and
refinery
men
sometimes
sold
on
the
sly
,
or
that
was
seen
once
or
twice
on
some
of
the
Marsh
women-folks
.
People
allowed
maybe
old
Captain
Obed
traded
for
it
in
some
heathen
port
,
especially
since
he
always
ordered
stacks
of
glass
beads
and
trinkets
such
as
seafaring
men
used
to
get
for
native
trade
.
Others
thought
and
still
think
he
'd
found
an
old
pirate
cache
out
on
Devil
Reef
.
But
here
's
a
funny
thing
.
The
old
Captain
's
been
dead
these
sixty
years
,
and
there
's
ai
n't
been
a
good-sized
ship
out
of
the
place
since
the
Civil
War
;
but
just
the
same
the
Marshes
still
keep
on
buying
a
few
of
those
native
trade
things
--
mostly
glass
and
rubber
gewgaws
,
they
tell
me
.
Maybe
the
Innsmouth
folks
like
'em
to
look
at
themselves
--
Gawd
knows
they
've
gotten
to
be
about
as
bad
as
South
Sea
cannibals
and
Guinea
savages
.
"
That
plague
of
'
46
must
have
taken
off
the
best
blood
in
the
place
.
Anyway
,
they
're
a
doubtful
lot
now
,
and
the
Marshes
and
other
rich
folks
are
as
bad
as
any
.
As
I
told
you
,
there
probably
ai
n't
more
'n
400
people
in
the
whole
town
in
spite
of
all
the
streets
they
say
there
are
.
I
guess
they
're
what
they
call
'
white
trash
'
down
South
--
lawless
and
sly
,
and
full
of
secret
things
.
They
get
a
lot
of
fish
and
lobsters
and
do
exporting
by
truck
.
Queer
how
the
fish
swarm
right
there
and
nowhere
else
.
"
Nobody
can
ever
keep
track
of
these
people
,
and
state
school
officials
and
census
men
have
a
devil
of
a
time
.
You
can
bet
that
prying
strangers
ai
n't
welcome
around
Innsmouth
.
I
've
heard
personally
of
more
'n
one
business
or
government
man
that
's
disappeared
there
,
and
there
's
loose
talk
of
one
who
went
crazy
and
is
out
at
Danvers
now
.
They
must
have
fixed
up
some
awful
scare
for
that
fellow
.
"
That
's
why
I
would
n't
go
at
night
if
I
was
you
.
I
've
never
been
there
and
have
no
wish
to
go
,
but
I
guess
a
daytime
trip
could
n't
hurt
you
--
even
though
the
people
hereabouts
will
advise
you
not
to
make
it
.
If
you
're
just
sightseeing
,
and
looking
for
old-time
stuff
,
Innsmouth
ought
to
be
quite
a
place
for
you
.
"
And
so
I
spent
part
of
that
evening
at
the
Newburyport
Public
Library
looking
up
data
about
Innsmouth
.
When
I
had
tried
to
question
the
natives
in
the
shops
,
the
lunchroom
,
the
garages
,
and
the
fire
station
,
I
had
found
them
even
harder
to
get
started
than
the
ticket
agent
had
predicted
;
and
realized
that
I
could
not
spare
the
time
to
overcome
their
first
instinctive
reticence
.
They
had
a
kind
of
obscure
suspiciousness
,
as
if
there
were
something
amiss
with
anyone
too
much
interested
in
Innsmouth
.
At
the
Y.
M.
C.
A.
,
where
I
was
stopping
,
the
clerk
merely
discouraged
my
going
to
such
a
dismal
,
decadent
place
;
and
the
people
at
the
library
shewed
much
the
same
attitude
.
Clearly
,
in
the
eyes
of
the
educated
,
Innsmouth
was
merely
an
exaggerated
case
of
civic
degeneration
.
