The Wreck of the Santa Ana, and the Death of a Great Actor

From the diary of Irwin Bowers:

- Pages empty.

From the diary of Jules Pollack:

Johnny Gale did come to his senses on board the Cormoran, and we were all happy about that, but none greater than his sister, Dorothy. He was most talkative, and he insisted on us going to Havana, as in Havana, Cuba. He explained that Digby Leighton and David Shaw went to Havana to search for the maps belonging to Tales from the Sea, the very book I had purchased by pure chance in a decrepit store in Kingston, Jamaica. The Leighton-Shaw expedition had been in the small coastal town of Oaxtaca on their way back from their jungle excursion, and they found out about Tales from the Sea and the connection between the Santa Ana and the odd Egypto-Mesoamerican finds in an old church ledger. The expedition split up, with Johnny Gale taking the stela to Kingston, and Leighton and Shaw travelling to Havana where they were hoping to find more information at the church of the Santissima Virga and the local archivist, Dr. Francesco Varga. Thus, it was decided to sail east and around Cuba to reach Havana, a city that had quite the reputation as a vacation spot for rich and famous Americans. We arrived on Tuesday, June 2, and Havana was quite the sight, especially if one compares to Kingston. Captain Feargal Sharkey would be taking care of the Cormoran as we headed to the Bristol Hotel. However, the Bristol did not accept blacks as guests, so we had to settle for a large and sparsely furnished apartment on the Calle Primavera, but oh how the Bristol, with all of its amenities, beckoned! We also realized that we had to find more suitable garments. Our maritime explorer's clothing was definitely not the attire to be worn if one wants to enjoy beautiful Havana. 

From the prescription pad of Franz Alter:

Despite some difficulties with the local police, we did find out that Leighton and Shaw were held in a comatose state at the St. Agnes hospital, a modern and well-equipped facility. They had been admitted to the hospital after being found unconscious in an alleyway by the police almost a month ago. They were both in stable condition, but they did not react to any stimuli. Miss Baker and myself proceeded to examine some blood samples from the two scientists, and after many hours of hard work examining the blood samples and comparing our findings to various references in the remarkable St. Agnes medical library, it seemed more than likely that Leighton and Shaw had been poisoned by Kiriltonium, a vicious drug used by the Okhrana of the Russian Empire. This drug was invented by a monk, Kirill of Minsk, back in 1882, and it was also known as Harpy's Breath. Many enemies of the Tsar had been killed by this vicious poison.

We also found a receipt from Sloppy Joe's Bar that matched the date on which Leighton and Shaw were admitted to St. Agnes. However, our investigation did not seem to go unnoticed, as we noted at least one person observing the entrance to St. Agnes Hospital while pretending to read a newspaper or feeding pigeons. Odd, indeed! Were we about to tangle with the Russkies, and perhaps even the shadowy organization Proletkult?

We finally managed to wake up Shaw after a round of dialysis, and he was moved to our apartment together with a nurse. He was in rather poor shape, but both Ms. Baker and myself are confident that he will be able to be moved back to Arkham through the auspices of the U.S. Consulate.

From the diary of Howard Lake:

Sloppy Joe's! What a place! Women, champagne, and much merriment! My main memory will be that fantastic broad that joined me for the evening, but yes, we did inquire about Leighton and Shaw. We managed to get hold of the main bartender, a guy by the name of Serge. He did indeed recall that evening, how two Americans, a mister Laggtone and mister Cho, were joined a by a burly-looking Slavic gentleman and a dashing young Latina by the name of Miranda. They had left together after enjoying cocktails. After that, I was off to enjoy an entirely different piece of tail.

Serge sports a most unusual an unkempt hairstyle, but he is an excellent bartender. He also makes espresso, with a lemon twist. You should try it!

From the diary of Dr. Mackenzie MacNamara:

There are many things I simply cannot stand: smacking while eating, gardening at odd hours, children, and white shoes after Labor Day. But one thing stands out, and that is incompetence. The clowns we hired as body guards seem to regard all of our important work as a mere pleasure cruise. Sergeant George Washington, Wilbur Fisch, Mattias Meara and Henry Dobson decided to leave the apartment without giving any notice, and I am most displeased. Buffoons! I would almost prefer the services of the local police, even if they treated us like commoners and even gave us the opportunity to enjoy their hospitality in their dreary jail cells. Lake claims all of that was my fault, but I am certain that is NOT the case.

From the diary of Jules Pollack:

That Thursday, June 4, led me to the church of the Santissima Virga, and hopefully to an archivist by the name of Dr. Francesco Varga. I found him in a unremarkable office outside the church itself, and he was quite helpful. Mackie and I spent many hours looking through manuscripts and books, and we did find the following addition to the map in Varga's copy of Tales from the Sea:

A Caribbean Observation

Up By Santa Maria

Behind the parrot plot

Naught and seven sevens

To your left

A Battle of Saintes

The docks of the Arsenal

And half of a quarter O and one

This riddle required the minds of all of my companions, and we sat down in one of our rooms at the Bristol Hotel (Sergeant Washington and our little guard squad were installed in a basic but comfortable apartment downtown where Mackie had been sulking while we visited Sloppy Joe's). As it were, there was a parrot headstone up by the Santa Maria church in Old Havana, and it had a number, 2321, on the back of it. Naught and seven sevens makes 049. The Battle of the Saintes happened in (17)82, there are ten docks in the Havana Arsenal, while half of a quarter and one leads to 451. This led to a string of numbers, 2321049821045, and with a left, or west divider, we found a position in latitude and longitude to the southeast of Havana:

23°21'04.9"N 82°10'45.1"W

We had all reason to believe this to be the location of the wreck of the Santa Ana, and therefore also the location of whatever antediluvian artifact that was carried by the unfortunate vessel! We would hopefully not follow in the footsteps of that brave mariner, Captain Henrique Diaz de Zaragoza. As it was written in Strange Tales from the Sea: "The cargo was rumored to be strange finds, apparently indicating some form of early connection between the Pharaohs and the Native American kings of old, and how they shared dark heretical secrets that were only intended for the eyes of God himself." Good thing I had already practiced in my diving suit.

Dr. Francesco Varga

From the diary of Moira Baker:

It was decided that Irwin Bowers would rent a speedboat to make sure that our diving expedition didn't attract unwelcome visitors. Whether they were Russians or not, our antagonists were a cause of significant concern, and we were glad to have Sergeant Washington's guard detail around - at least initially. That Saturday, June 6, we started heading out on the Cormoran with Captain Feargal Sharkey towards the position we had decoded. Bowers and Mattias Meara were in the speedboat, and we were all eager to find out what treasures and secrets could be found at the wreck of the Santa Ana. The weather was as gorgeous as only the Caribbean in early summer can be, with a slight breeze providing soothing relief from the sunshine. The Cormoran was followed by various birds as we left Havana, and we were checking our various pieces of equipment, and especially the diving gear. Dorothy Gale was up front and halfway up the little mast, an adorable lookout for our venture. 

After a couple of hours we reached what Captain Sharkey assured us was the exact location. We decided that Lake would actually be the one doing the diving, and he was cocky enough, ensuring everyone that he was a really good diver. We were all quite excited as Lake was lowered into the warm waters.

Captain Feargal Sharkey

The  Wreck of the Santa Ana

Irwin Bowers was scanning the horizon while Mattias Meara held their speedboat at a steady course. He thought he'd noticed something just over the horizon, and he was quite correct. It was not a smudge on the lenses of his binoculars, but smoke, possibly indicating a vessel sailing at high speed in their direction. There were no other boats around this rather remote part of the Caribbean, so Bowers ordered Meara to set course for the unidentified vessel.

Hello, Howard!

Meanwhile, Howard Lake was being lowered into the deep blue sea. He noticed that the seafloor ended in a steep decline, almost like a continental shelf, and the vista made Lake suffer a brief bout of undersea vertigo. It was unnerving to stare straight down into a dark blue, and eventually black, abyss. He turned around slowly in the heavy diver's suit, and noticed what had to be the wreck of the Santa Ana, which had settled just on the edge of the precipice. There seemed to be an unobstructed entrance through what might have been the cargo hatch, and Lake proceeded slowly towards the opening, his lead-booted feet stirring up sand and silt from the seabed. He also noticed a pattern of sizeable stones that were inlayed in the hull of the Santa Ana, and he recognized the glyphs on the stones as being similar to the ones inscribed by Mackie in their New York hotel to warn against intruders. Surely, these glyphs cannot be active after half a millennia? Lake continued towards the wreck. The Santa Ana did show several scars from what must have been a fierce fight with the Dread Pirate Roberts, and Lake had to be extremely careful not to get entangled in the various pieces of rotting nautica that abounded on the deck. 

The cargo hold was a mess, but among the remnants of provisions Lake noticed a sizeable chest or coffer, perhaps some six by four feet, and still sealed with the Royal Spanish Seal. This must be the prize, and Lake starting securing the coffer with rope. He did think he noticed a shadow passing by a gun port, and he was somewhat concerned that he would run into sharks while working with the heavy coffer. What he saw next was not even remotely related to sharks, or any other kind of fish, for that matter.

On board the Cormoran, Jules Pollack, Moira Baker, Mackie MacNamara, Franz Alter, as well as Johnny and Dorothy Gale were staring intently at where the air hose and the line met the surface of the sea. The three remaining guards were pumping air to Lake, while Feargal Sharkey worked on some piece of machinery. All of a sudden there was a tug at the line. Had Lake finally found something of value? The intrepid investigators barely noticed a vague shudder that seemed to move the boat ever so slightly, but Captain Sharkey put down his wrench and approached the railing.

Lake had just finished securing the coffer to be winched up when he once again noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He gave three tugs on the line to make sure that the crew of the Cormoran started winching up the Cormoran. and he then turned around as fast as the diving suit allowed. Lake was utterly terrified to see several thick, scaly tentacles pushing themselves in through portholes, gun ports and general holes and cracks in the hull. The tentacles varied in color, from a repugnant mauve to mucus-y green, and they were clearly intent on dragging the Santa Ana over the edge of the precipice, and also grabbing hold of the horrified Lake. He started tugging the line to the Cormoran as much as he could, while flailing at the tentacles with the axe he had brought down with him, his shrieks of terror muffled by his diving helmet and many feet of seawater. Had Howard Lake broken through the protective glyphs of the Santa Ana to release some eldritch horror that was intent on using the artifacts in the cargo hold for some heretical purpose?

The investigators on board the Cormoran started winching up the coffer, but they also noticed that the tugs at the line became more intent. They also noticed an unwholesome stench erupting, as if Lake had managed to release an enormous pocket of methane from the seabed. Johnny Gale suddenly yelled out as he noticed what seemed like a huge patch of boiling water next to the Cormoran, but the bubbles soon turned into tentacles similar to the ones attacking Lake. They seemed to be everywhere, with one grabbing Dorothy Gale up by the bow, while several others reached for the intrepid investigators to the aft of the boat. A wild melee erupted while Captain Sharkey started the engine. There was also a coffer to winch up, and Howard Lake to recover. Mackie darted front to help Dorothy Gale, while Johnny fired off several rounds at the tentacles from a handgun. Franz Alter was wielding a boat hook against the repulsively slick tentacles, while the other crew members continued pumping air to Lake while hauling the coffer on board the Cormoran. Mackie managed to sever the tentacle with a fire axe and drag Dorothy out of the stranglehold of the tentacle, although Dorothy's leg was a mess. Dorothy was helped by Mackie down below, so that Moira Baker could tend to her wounds. As the boat gathered speed, Howard Lake noticed the line being drawn taught, and he started moving away from the wreck of the Santa Ana just as the tattered remains of the ship was pulled into the seemingly bottomless chasm by what seemed to be dozens of tentacles. 

Lake had to remove his lead shoes to gain buoyancy, or he'd be dragged along the seabed and turned into a bloody pulp. He struggled with much difficulty, and just as he started bobbing against the seabed, he managed to finally remove the shoes. An arduous ascent awaited, but at least he was heading in the right way. As the Cormoran broke free of the tentacles, the crew could join forces and pull up a badly shaken Howard Lake. It was then that Johnny Gale noticed a pillar of black smoke east of the Cormoran, and within minutes it became obvious that an armed steamer was heading straight towards the intrepid investigators. Closer examination revealed the crew to be what seemed to be heavily armed savages, and as the Cormoran picked up speed, the steamer unfurled a strange flag.

Irwin Bowers was, of course, intent on making sure that the steamer wouldn't catch the Cormoran, so he asked Mattias Meara for full speed ahead. He was quite astonished when Mattias Meara instead pulled up a gun and pointed it at Bowers, telling him that he'd be getting off here. The remaining guardsmen pulled up their guns at more or less the same time, surprising everyone aboard the Cormoran. Sergeant Washington explained that they'd take it from here, and that the company of the intrepid investigators wasn't required anymore. For Franz Alter, having a gun pointed at him was just too much. Too much! Without emitting a single sound, his long fingers lashed out at Sergeant Washington, securing a chokehold that not even the strong sergeant could break. This became a signal for everyone to engage the traitors on board. 

Irwin Bowers was also trying to use the movements of the speedboat to gain an advantage over Meara, and his lithe body was ready to give Mattias Meara a solid kick. However, Irwin Bowers seemed to bang his head against the low ceiling of the boat. He fell down, amazed that hitting his head would produce so much blood. Seeing Mattias Meara standing in front of him with a smoking .45 seemed to indicate that there were other issues afoot.

The brawl on the Cormoran was less one-sided. Alter strangled Washington with silent and methodical efficiency, while Wilbur Fisch was killed by several rounds from a Browning Automatic Rifle. Henry Dobson was left standing, and he promptly surrendered to the intrepid investigators and their fearsome arsenal of guns, axes, stilettos and boat hooks. This scene was interrupted by Captain Sharkey calling attention to shots being fired from the rapidly approaching steamer. The intrepid investigators returned fire, but both the shells and the steamer itself were gaining on the Cormoran. A plan was made: the investigators were to roll an oil drum full of gasoline overboard and fire upon it, hoping that the gasoline would explode. This was a cockamamie plan at best, but worth a try, according to Lake who set up a BAR against the railing of the boat. Waiting for the steamer to get really close to the oil drum, Lake aimed carefully before firing off the last ten rounds of the magazine. The result was way beyond expectation. The gasoline exploded in a spectacular fashion, with flames engulfing the bow of the steamer, and shrieks from wounded and burning savages being heard across the water. The Cormoran would not share the fate of the Santa Ana!

As the boat set course back to Havana, it was time to open the coffer. It was a plain wooden box, still sealed as mentioned with the royal seal of Spain. The wood was porous, and it required little effort to unveil the contents, in this case a beautiful box of Egyptian design, only slightly smaller than coffer itself. The artwork was damaged by the sea water, but it seemed to display some form of building construction on a vast scale. Certain aspects of the work seemed to be intentionally blotted out, though, which seemed curious to Mackie in particular. The box was closed with a simple clasp, but sealed remarkably tight. Nevertheless, after some prying, the lid opened to show six egg-like organic items. each standing a full two feet in height. Four seemed to be opened, with the egg like containers being pale and dried out. Two were in much better shape, and unopened. But what were these things? 

 

By now, it was time for Franz Alter to give his full attention to Henry Dobson. Alter pulled out a case of very sharp and nasty-looking surgical instruments from his medical bag, and he proceeded to slice off wafer-thin parts of the screaming Dobson. The slices were unceremoniously thrown overboard, although some pieces were snapped up by the birds that once again trailed the Cormoran. It was not long before Dobson confessed that the treason was only for gain, and that they had been given very generous checks by a woman named Irene Polack, a middle aged woman with a mean face. Alter sliced off another couple of slices of Dobson before the bleeding captive fainted. However, the fish would feast tonight. 

Epilogue:

Irwin Bowers was in no pain, but merely semi-conscious at best. He really wanted to extinguish the fire that was threatening to engulf the speedboat, but he could not motivate himself, nor move his limbs. On the other hand, the boat was settling into the sea, stern first, so that should take care of the flames. Bowers' field of vision was narrowing rapidly as the speedboat slid in under the waves, but he still saw a large group  of what seemed to be divers that were swimming up to him as he went under. As they divers came closer, he could not fail to notice the gills, fangs and claws of his entourage before darkness engulfed him.

 

 

Careless Whispers

From the diary of nurse Agatha Pettenkoffer, Sunday, May 3, 1925

So, it was decided that we'd send poor Sergeant Edgar Broome up to some obscure town called Arkham up in Massachusetts. On the one hand, I felt really bad for the sergeant, since the rest here at the newly renamed Ashford Ranch seemed to do him good, but on the other hand, he'd benefit from being removed from the situation. I agreed to send him up to Arkham by train escorted by a couple of good men from the ranch, Mr. Charlie Ainsworth and Mr. Clive Beecher. We also sent a telegram to some of Lotus's friends in Arkham, requesting the best possible care for Sergeant Broome.

That being said, it was strange night at the Ashford Ranch. I still recalled the weird buzzing whispers from outside the ranch, and I could still recall sounds that seemed like my name being uttered together with calls for beckoning me to leave the ranch. Perhaps I was still hearing them in real life, or so it seemed. I had a dreadful time falling asleep, and my dreams were filled with these and other sounds and noises, leaving me tossing and turning in sweat-stained sheets. Are we just victims of stress caused by the several strange events we have faced, or are we actually hearing real voices from the woods surrounding the ranch? I would not go out at night, not at any cost, and I do not envy the ranch hands patrolling the Ashford Ranch at night. I do not fear the whims of man, but this feels so surreal and uncanny, and my usually sane and rational self seems subdued. I cannot stand living in uncertainty and worry. The general attitude of all of us at the ranch seems to have smitten the animals as well. The horses are skittish, and the dogs seem to bark at strange things only they can see. I keep a loaded shotgun next to my bed at all times, and I carry a holstered, but loaded, revolver at all times. 

***

The horror of the heights!

Following the successful landing of a pilot from Lockwood Airlines, Lotus Ashford, Bill McCloud, and Frank Cannon decided to greet the pilot, a certain Frances O'Hara. Mr. O'Hara had flied in the Great War, and he was more than happy to take up Lotus Ashford's offer of lodging. He was jolly fellow, quite social, and relived that he could get some help in maintaining and refueling his D.H.9 before resuming to carry the U.S. mail eastwards. Lotus, Bill, and Frank also took the opportunity to ask Father Bose about the strange book and its Greek text. The Three Amigos were joined by Frances O'Hara, and the pilot looked more than a little bit wary as Father Bose explained the translation. He claimed to have no knowledge of what Yog-Sothoth might mean, but he hinted at the potential connection between the Apache, the entity named "Yeeg", and a "realm of dreaming" or "Dreamlands" that the now quite dead James Gardiner was longing to visit. The incantation in the book seemed to be used to summon some other entity instead of enabling poor Gardiner to visit some "Dreamlands", and this is what may have killed Gardiner in the first place. The old Greek text was nevertheless quite valuable, and Frank Cannon added it to the small amount of disturbing texts that the Three Amigos had amalgamated. 

Frances O'Hara slept soundly while most of the inhabitants of the ranch had a disturbing night, seemingly struggling to fall asleep and then wishing that they could leave their surreal and uncanny dreams filled with buzzing and whispering voices. Next morning, Lotus Ashford and Frank Cannon asked Mr. O'Hara if he would mind taking Frank Cannon and Lotus Ashford on a trip over the western parts of the Capitan range, and more specifically around the mountain where they had seen a host of disturbing creatures some time before.

Cannon and Ashford found the former gunner's space in the D.H. 9 to be fairly spacious, all things considered, and after having some ranch hands unloading the mail, they were ready for takeoff. The would-be aviators were of course heavily armed, since they might have been anticipating a random landing. It was both weird and fantastic to fly over Lincoln and the Ashford Ranch, and after a couple of laps around town, O'Hara climbed in a northwesterly direction. Ashford and Cannon did bring a pair of binoculars, not to mention firearms, and they eventually noted faint outlines around the top of the Captain's Spike, the tallest mountain of the range. The outlines seemed to be geometric symbols of a most unsavory and dizzying quality. It seemed as if the lines varied in width and color intensity from different angles, and a few lines even seemed to pulsate in ways resembling the cardiovascular system of some ungodly entity. As the D.H. 9 circled the peak, it became increasingly sluggish, and the aeroplane started to lose altitude. O'Hara was struggling with the controls when Frank Cannon noticed long jagged claws tearing through the bottom of the aeroplane just by the rear gunner's seat. The plywood gave way, and Frank Cannon stared at a wildly shrieking creature straight from hell clearly intent on killing or maiming the native New Yorker. Frank Cannon had seen many horrific things, so despite shrieking horribly, Cannon emptied half a clip from his Browning Automatic Rifle into the vile creature. Chunks of putrid flesh-like matter were blown off the beast, and as it lodged into the undercarriage, Frank Cannon could not help notice that the flying obscenity bore some resemblance to one of the creatures mentioned in the unholy formulae that might enable travel in space. Uncanny indeed?

Meanwhile. Lotus Ashford noticed another beast landing on the outer edge of the starboard wing and clawing itself towards the pilot. Ashford was justifiably horrified, but he squeezed off several rounds with his pistol, and as several of the rounds hit the head of the abomination, it lost its grip of the aeroplane and cartwheeled to the ground. However, the plane was still descending, with the beast stuck in the lading gear providing much excess weight. Frank Cannon held on to Lotus Ashford for dear life as Lotus lowered himself through the hole in the fuselage to kick the beast off the landing gear. It was close-cut deal, but the monstrosity was dispatched off just second before the D.H. 9 would have hit the side of the Captain's Spike.

O'Hara managed to land without further incident, and as he re-loaded the mail bags into the back seat of the aeroplane, he swore that he's stay away from New Mexico in the future. 

The Reading of Augustus Brill

 ARKHAM ADVERTISER

Saturday, May 16, Morning Edition

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Socialite Ella B. Cocker was admitted to Saint Mary's Hospital on West Pickman Street last evening. She was suffering from a serious knife wound to her abdomen, but she is expected to recover fully after undergoing surgery. According to Ms. Cocker, a social event which included a seance abruptly ended when the drama of the evening turned undergraduate student Augustus Brill, 20, into a raging madman who killed graduate student Eric Middlegate, 27. Two other guests, Spanish dancer and movie star Conchita Padron as well as Captain (ret) Richard "Dick" Thunderstorm were also attacked, and Captain Thunderstorm suffered several serious lacerations as they carried Ms. Cocker to safety. Augustus Brill is wanted by the Arkham P.D., and he is considered dangerous and violent.

Mr. Middlegate was a graduate student at the Miskatonic University's Department of Anthropology. He was one of Professor Tyler M. Freeborn's most promising students together with Mr. Brill's older brother, Mr. Hubert Brill, who declined to comment further. However, unconfirmed information indicates that Mr. Augustus Brill had been an avid student of the occult and ancient religions, and that this had contributed to his violent episode. Mr. Brill had also been absent from Miskatonic University for much of the semester, and he is claimed to have displayed antisocial manners.

Ella B. Cocker

From the diary of Conchita Padron:

"I could not believe the guttural sounds, wails and shrieks that young Augustus emitted before apparently losing his feeble mind. I am trying to recall the words, and it sounded something like 'Why? Why? Because! Because! It is the will of the begotten, of the dreaded abougdali, of the inner sanctum. Ia! Ia! Yok-Sottoth! The offering will be done!'

'The light will shine ‘til the starts are right and our Lorde comes down from the stars to lead us on ways untrodden.'

'The function equals the derivative delving into the root of minus one.' 

This beyond weird, but perhaps the book from the Miskatonic University Library might shed some light on the matter! And what was the story behind that weird mirror?"

From the diary of Capt (ret.) Dick Thunderstorm:

"I need to buy a gun."

 

Cocker Mansion

Ma Shank's Dead Boarder

The night between April 30 and May 1 may not have been a Walpurgis with witches on broom sticks, but other strange things were aloft. At some point during the late evening, the three amigos were startled to hear a shotgun being fired inside the Mitscher Ranch. They found a frightened but determined Nurse Agatha Pettenkoffer with a smoking shotgun aimed at a shattered rear window: "It looked like a big bird of some sorts, but the angles were all wrong, and the wings seemed to be more like a bat's wings than an ordinary avian." Frank Cannon looked out of the window, his revolver aimed up towards the roof. "I fear they may be back, those Mee-Gos that were mentioned in that telegram from this Irwin Bowers fellow in New York." This was confirmed by a couple of the familiar, yet weird, triangular tracks or patterns that were found on the roof of the Mitscher Ranch.

Next morning was spent sketching on defensive plans, plans that included searchlights and flamethrowers. The amigos had already discovered that the Mi-Go were notoriously difficult to kill, and it required a disproportionate amount of firepower to dispatch of the hellish creatures. Many of the workers at the Ashford Mining Co. were sincerely worried or scared after hearing strange buzzing voices in the surrounding woods, and the accountant, the otherwise redoubtable Mrs. Eleonore Harrington, swore that she saw a pair of ominous shadows flying over the ranch at unnatural speed. However, May 2 provided a new set of problems for the three amigos in the Mitscher Ranch.

The boarding house of Louise “Ma” Shanks is located in Lincoln. It serves as a temporary home to two Mexican families, the Marquez family and the Benedicto family. The family members work as ranch hands, maids, cooks and general laborers in Lincoln and Carrazozo. The families live on the first and the second floor of the building. Ma Shanks lives on the first floor, and the top floor is occupied by Mr. James Gardiner, who arrived two months ago, and a young widow, Mrs. Madeira. James Gardiner has been working in the Lincoln general store, and he has been helping out with the bookkeeping.

Ma Shanks was concerned about Mr. Gardiner. He has not been seen for a couple of days, and he hasn’t been to work. Ma Shanks had heard that Frank Cannon is a former private eye, and she wants help and support, since Sheriff Magruder happened to be in Carrizozo together with his deputy. She saddled her trusty donkey "Buff" and took the short ride to the Mitscher Ranch, arriving just as Lotus Ashford stepped out on the front porch.

After having coffee and a lengthy conversation with Ma Shanks, it was decided that Lotus Ashford, Frank Cannon and Bill McCloud were to pay a visit to the boarding house. Gardiner was found dead, apparent following a ritualistic suicide after spending many months covering most of his body with small spirals, all carefully carved into the skin to form a pattern of spiral scars.

Gardiner had left notebooks and diaries, and he had apparently enjoyed remarkably vivid dreams, at times entering something he called "The Dreamlands" that he described in a "Dream Journal," which

indicated that Gardiner might have lost his ability to dream several months ago. They also found an old book that was written in ancient Greek, as well as two obsidian knives and the remnants of two black candles. The Three Amigos decided to save the book for Father Bose, who knew both Greek and Latin as well as Hebrew and Aramaic.

The Dream Journal also included a loose piece of paper, perhaps added as an afterthought or appendix: "Much of my research points towards the realm of Yeeg (not really sure of the spelling) being closest to the realm of dreams. This may be in the American southwest, or somewhere thereabouts. In any case, a change of pace from Philly might be good for me." The name of "Yeeg" was particularly disturbing to Ashford, Cannon and McCloud. They all recognized the similarity to the serpent deity, Yig, that was worshipped by the degenerate tribe that had inhabited Lincoln County and its surroundings before the arrival of the Apache.

Franck Cannon and Lotus Ashford went over to the young widow, Mrs. Madeira, while McCloud continued the investigation. As Frank and Lotus held a quiet conversation with Mrs. Madeira, Bill McCloud heard a stirring from the corpse of Gardiner. A dragging sound on the floor interrupted McCloud's investigation of the room. The mutilated body of the room’s tenant shifted its limbs and suddenly lurched to a standing position. McCloud looked on in terror as the flesh around Mr. Gardiner’s head began to peel, the flesh spiraling downward like some horrific party trick with an apple. The blood-slicked skull turned to look in the direction of the old book with malevolence in its lidless eyes. The spirals glowed with a profoundly disturbing blueish light, and this light seemed to protect the unholy being from the hail of gunfire that erupted in the apartment. It was only when Lotus Ashford realized that the head was unprotected that the creature could be destroyed, leaving an oozing puddle of ichor on the floor.

It was difficult, if not impossible to figure put what had happened, but the Three Amigos were hoping that Father Bose might shed some light on the matter. As they were discussing the events, a strange sound was heard in the early Spring evening. It was an aeroplane, a thing unheard of, and it was coming down to land. The aeroplane landed awkwardly north of Lincoln, and it seemed to be a mail carrier from Lockwood Airlines!

The MacNamara Expedition, part 1.

From the diary of Howard Lake:

The Explorer Club. Again at the Explorer Club. We met once more with Arthur Bentley III, the elderly Walther Prendergast (who this time did not go on about "Remember the Maine"), Johanna Scarborough, Anscomb Blakely and, of course, professor Henry Armitage from Miskatonic U. There were also two gentlemen present whose looks seemed to betray less of an academic background. They introduced themselves as Special Agents Smith and Jones. One of them had an entirely scarified right hand. It may have been Smith. Or Jones. It did turn out that they were exceptionally well read, despite their appearances.

Special Agents Smith and Jones.

Regardless, Professor Armitage was very excited. He showed Mackie a photograph of an old Egyptian stela. Mackie pulled out a magnifying glass and read the hieroglyphs:

"Let one remember Samontuweser! He says: "I was director of the hall, steward, overseer of services in the property of Montu, the one who invested with their authority the officials of the palace of the prince by anointing them, being a man who cares for his city. I owned beautiful artificial lakes and tall sycamore trees. I was one who founded a vast estate in his city and excavated his tomb in its cliffs. I established a water supply for my city, I ferried its inhabitants across in my boat. I was a wise man in ruling my subordinates until the day will come when I shall be blessed. I handed this on to my son in my will."

Mackie scowled at the photograph. "Pretty ordinary stuff. Who doesn't do great things on a regular basis?" Mackie was clearly not impressed. Armitage, on the other hand. looked smug. "Well, that may be the case, but what if I told you that the stela was found deep in the jungle on the border between Mexico and Guatemala?" The room became quiet, with the exception of Moira grasping her pearls. Armitage continued: "The Leighton-Shaw Expedition set out more than six months ago, and they were really just doing a very basic survey of some, well, less interesting pre-Columbian sites. But something must have happened on their way back. This photograph was mailed from Kingston, Jamaica more than a month ago by Johnny Gale, a graduate student that accompanied Leighton and Smith. As for these three gentlemen, they seem to have vanished into thin air." At this point, the special agents intervened: "You see, that is why we are here. A journalist by the name of Johnny Schwartz has been investigating this unique find as well as other oddities at the Miskatonic University together with an individual that may be named Arkady Zimin. Professor Armitage contacted us, and we believe that Mr. Schwartz real name may be Janis Sarts, a Soviet citizen of Latvian heritage working for the OGPU, that is the Cheka. Sarts worked for Trotsky before Trotsky fell from grace, but Stalin decided to keep Sarts, mainly for his particular and brutal efficiency around Leningrad and Kronshtadt. Sarts has also displayed keen interest in strange religious matters, and he is believed to be employed by an organization known as Proletkult, which is a special organization devoted to liberating the Proletariat spiritually and culturally from the bourgeois past. The occult tenet that the individual is a microcosm of the macrocosm and traditional Orthodox injunctions against self-will and to aestheticize rather than oppose the Bolshevik suppression of the individual. Proletkult (Proletarnyj Kultur) is possibly led by a Vyacheslav Ivanov or a Sergei Bulgakov."

Sarts or Schwartz?

Armitage

To sum it up: Mackie has been forgiven (at least temporarily) by Miskatonic, if not Thornton-Smythe, and she is now in charge of the MacNamara Expedition. The actual expedition will be organized by Dr. Evan Sinclair, the Deputy Head of the Department of Archaeology. Jules volunteered to add some able-bodied veterans from the 369th Infantry (Harlem Hellfighters), and we would head to Kingston while the main parts of the expedition was being organized by Dr. Sinclair. Oh, and Armitage wondered if we'd be able to arrange a "permanent loan" of the Nahariya manuscript...

From the diary of Irwin Bowers:

- Unintelligible

From the notebook and prescription pad of Franz Alter:

I will never let my dear Ima visit Grand Central again! We did manage to commit the crazy woman Diana Spinoza to Bellevue and hand off Billy the Cat to Ima, praise be G-d, but whatever horror she may have contacted or summoned seemed to remain in the strange tunnels below Grand Central Station. We were dressed as common laborers and entered the tracks from one of the outside locations around 92nd Street. The tunnels below the station are well-nigh uncharted, and any maps are classified, so we entered that dirty and dimly-lit Gehenna with utmost caution. We almost got lost in this subterranean hell, and time seemed to lose all meaning. Apparently the unleashed monstrosity had claimed yet another victim, a vagrant, and we tried to find that location. However. the abomination found us first, but I was prepared with five fire-bottles filled with medical-grade alcohol and prepared with fuses. I was hoping that the indications in the Nahariya manuscript were correct, and that the entity would be susceptible to fire.

The entity is beyond revolting. It assaulted me and almost violated me in ung-dly ways. It is rancid, foul, and clammy, and it creates a mass of tendrils that seek out every part of the human body. Being exposed to the formless mass is being both squeezed and torn apart, and one lose both breath and composure. Fortunately, the spell that Jules and Mackie has prepared seemed to work, and I actually believe that the being is banished from this Earth. That being said, I still have recurring nightmares of what it did to me, over and over again. Oy vey ist mir!

From the diary of Mackie MacNamara:

We took a most civilized cruise to Havana between May 17 and May 23, and then we had an adequate passage to Kingston, arriving on Tuesday, May 26, 1925. It was difficult to manage both shuffleboard and champagne, but by now I'm an expert! It was a tad more difficult to figure out where Johnny Gale and the Americo-egyptian stela might be, but by asking the right questions to the right people, it turned out that young Johnny Gale had been drawn into the company of one Jonas Hennessy, who owns a major banana plantation and who's in cahoots with United Fruit, apparently using his reputation as a prophet and would-be wizard treat his laborers in a most inhumane fashion, promising the destitute workers that their toil would enable them to do an exodus to their roots in Africa. It was utter balderdash, of course, but for some reason he wanted the stela. Was it to prove the connections between Africa and the Americas? We just didn't know.  

Meanwhile, Jules decided to try out his new diving equipment on the ruins of Port Royal. He managed to find a decent-sized vessel, the Cormoran. The captain of the Cormoran was a real character, a Irish fellow by the name of Fergus Sharkey. Black Irish, he insisted. Oh, and Jules was also incredibly lucky in finding an old book from the early 1700s with a small but quite visible so-called Elder Sign embossed on the frontispiece. It seems to be  a tale of travel around the Caribbean during the reign of Queen Anne. 

Hennessy's plantation was located just north of Kingston, and was known to hold religious mass meetings in and outside Kingston together with a female, an albino medium named Jacques. This time, we decided to abandon any pretext of pleasantries and simply simply barge in to find Johnny Gale. We had Sergeant Washington and his Harlem Hellfighters as well as our own armed selves, and after arranging for an explosive diversion by what seemed to be a pagan monument at the edge of the plantation, we went in, guns blazing. Moira Baker managed to get hold of a Lewis gun, and we were clearly more well organized than the defenders. Rounds were being fired in every direction, and several guards left in automobiles to find the cause of the explosion. We took the parlor floor, and we squeezed Moira and her machine gun into a dumbwaiter, and she apparently found Jonas Hennessy and Jacques. They did indeed have Johnny Gale imprisoned, and we somehow reached a détente. Johnny Gale was in ill health, but we took care of him, and all seemed to be going well when Moira emptied her Lewis gun upstairs. I really did not know what happened, but Moira came down the stairs with a befuddled look on her face: "The abomination known as the eternally voracious Tsathoggua is apparently inhabiting the mortal flesh of Billy the Cat in Sara Alter's Lower East Side apartment."  Franz Alter's expression was one of utter horror. 

From the diary of Jules Pollack:

Thursday, May 28. The Cormoran is an excellent vessel, and I am glad that we could leave Jamaica on this neat ship. Onwards to Mexico!

M/S Cormoran

Weird cross at the and of the plantation

Jonas Hennessy's plantation house

A Lewis gun

Jonas Hennessy

Jacques

Johnny Gale

Lotus, Watch the Stars!

The deranged and dirty derelict was bundled up and carried back to the Mitscher Ranch. He was incoherent and violent, and he had to be strapped into a bed. Nurse Pettenkoffer pumped him full of sedatives, and examined the man. He was in remarkably good shape, despite being exposed to the elements and quite dirty. His uniform actually had a name sewn into the uniform: Edgar Broome, First Sergeant, U. S. Army. This was a familiar name to at least McCloud, since Broome was a real war hero, and had it not been for Sergeant Alvin York, Broome would have been the premier soldier of the Great War. McCloud was actually a bit awestruck. Nurse Pettenkoffer's examination also revealed series of strange triangular scars, most of them almost healed, and most of them located close to vital organs and arteries.

Broome in 1919.

As Frank Cannon finally retired, he did notice one thing: his window was open. It would have been no big deal if it wasn't for the fact that Cannon was utterly convinced that he's closed the window, and he also knew that the maid, Marita German, didn'r open the windows unless specifically instructed to. A quick search outside the window did not reveal any irregularities, but Frank Cannon nevertheless could not shake off an odd feeling of being watched, and the whispers that seemed to interrupt his dreams added to his unease. Frank Cannon would be in need of lots of coffee throughout the following day.

Next day, Nurse Pettenkoffer gently started to gently wake up Sergeant Broome. Frank Cannon and Lotus Ashford were ready with scrumptious ham sandwiches and a big pot of coffee, and although Broome was quite disoriented, he eventually responded to the remarkably calm reasoning of Frank Cannon, who after all had taken care of crime victims in New York as well as the tantrums of Frank Black. Sergeant Broome was far from lucid, but it seemed as if he had ended up in argument with a young lieutenant, 2/LT Gorman, and punched the lieutenant. Realizing the consequences of his actions, Broome deserted from the unit that was to escort Don Dixon's astronomical entourage. After that, it seemed as if Broome had had some surreal experience, and really could not be determined if this was factual or hallucinatory. Had he been abducted and experimented on? Was this merely the delusionary thoughts of a mind being pressed to the limits by shell shock from the Great War? Were the strange scars inflicted by Dixon and his team of scientists? The question marks kept piling up. Even more questions were raised when news from Arkham reached Lotus Ashford regarding the fate of the Topsfield power plant. He decided to send a telegram to Dr. MacKenzie MacNamara, the famous Egyptologist at the Miskatonic University.  

Broome was left in the tender care of Nurse Pettenkoffer and Bill McCloud while Lotus Ashford and Frank Cannon decided to pay Don Dixon's observatory a visit on April 30. They rode up the slopes of the Capitan Mountains, following a fairly narrow path until they were astounded to fins a military checkpoint just short of the abandoned mining office located on a plateau high up in the mountain range. The sentries were rather relaxed, but still wearing prim and proper U.S. Army uniforms.

The former mining mansion turned observatory.

The soldiers called up to the makeshift observatory, and Don Dixon was delighted to have visitors. The former mining office was being renovated at a breakneck pace, and a small telescope had already been mounted in what seemed to have been the study. This is where Cannon and Ashford found an enthusiastic Dixon surrounded by strange machinery and coils of cables. It all looked very technical. Dixon, being a most enthusiastic astronomer, was enthralled when Frank Cannon started asking questions about Betelgeuse, while Ashford tried to make any sense whatsoever of the strange equipment in the little observatory. However, Dixon promised that there would be a new, splendid, observatory next to the office building in no time, or rather in a year or two. Ashford also noticed several gun racks, bit then, this was New Mexico. Ashford and Cannon finally left, still not convinced of the true intent and purpose of the astronomical endeavor. Ashford did discreetly point out that the existing telescope was indeed aimed at the mountain top that seemed to have spawned so many strange flying abominations earlier this year. 

As Ashford and Cannon were riding down the path towards the Mitscher Ranch, they noticed a female figure waving at them a couple of hundred feet away. The stunning woman introduced herself as Georgetta Carlton, an astronomer, and she was very anxious about her fiancé, First Sergeant Edgar Broome. According to the visibly upset Carlton, Don Dixon and his fellow scientists had conducted strange and horrifying experiments on Edgar Broome, until  he finally managed to escape from these cruel procedures. He had not been seen for several weeks, and she begged Cannon and Ashford to not turn in Broome if they found him, but to notify Ms. Carlton instead by leaving a note in the Wortley Hotel, one of the two hotels in Lincoln. She was even shedding tears of desperation as Lotus Ashford told her to return to the observatory before nightfall. She left the two amigos with  a slow wave before riding up to the plateau. A strange encounter in a set of strange circumstances. Frank Cannon leaned over to Lotus Ashford and muttered "I do not believe that broad a single bit." 

Georgetta Carlton

Stargazing

It was already Monday, March 8, 1925, when McCloud and Cannon dragged the severely wounded Swede Larsson into the bus. Fortunately, the drive back to the Mitscher Ranch proved uneventful, and Nurse Pettenkoffer could take care of Larsson. However, so many questions still remained, and upon hearing of the trials and tribulations that McCloud and Cannon had faced, Lotus Ashford and the other two amigos decided to seek out the one source they hadn't spoken to: Chief Nascha Alonzo Ruiz of the Antahueca Apache. Lotus Ashford made sure to load various supplies for the impoverished inhabitants of the reservation, and the three amigos departed just before lunch. Chief Ruiz greeted Ashford and his companions, and he was most grateful for the generous provisions. This time the three companions were invited into Chief Ruiz's humble house, and he gifted an Apache blanket to Lotus Ashford before sharing a ceremonial pipe with his three guests. He then proceeded to try to answer all the questions that Cannon, Ashford and McCloud had, and a strange tale started to materialize.

It was a tale of an old and wicked tribe that had been inhabiting the lands prior to the arrival of the Apache many generations ago, before the arrival of the white man. This tribe was very different than the brave Apache. Their numbers were limited, but they were very skilled in bad medicine, and they worshipped a great serpent that required constant sacrifice to remain satiated. This Old Tribe would steal children and such to sacrifice to the voracious serpent, that was known under many names, such as Ha-Yonig, Yiagath or just Yik.

The Apache eventually defeated the Old Tribe, but their practices had infested certain dark hollows and narrow ravines, and it is said that some of this bad medicine still can be found around certain hills and in deep mine shafts, where the the Great Serpent tries to reach out into the world with demands for sacrifice. It may very well have been the case that the Antahueca medicine man, Medah Mitchell Old Horse, had tried to summon some segment of that vicious serpent entity to help the Apache against the ranchers of Otto Argo and Boss Martin, probably using the strange necklace - which had been in Mitchell's possession - to feed the serpent entity with lost souls. Regardless, Medah Mitchell Old Horse disappeared back in January or so, and he had not been seen since. Frank Cannon did send a telegram to his old contact at the Miskatonic Library, Miss Wanda Wright, and she could indeed dig up some information that did seem to indicate that the tales of Chief Ruiz may not be unknown to the ethnographic community.

                                                                Miss Wanda Wright

After these strange events, life at the Mitscher Ranch settled down into a semblance of normality. McCloud studied local history while recovering from his wounds, while Frank Cannon and Lotus Ashford studied the three books left by Otto Argo. These were indeed the dreadful volumes that had pushed young Joseph Mulroney over the edge to the point of suicide while transcribing the tomes. Ashford was a bit more careful, but the first volume was still a taxing read. Being forced to ponder such vast cosmic vistas and an overwhelming feeling of utter insignificance made Lotus's mind and imagination wander off in quite disturbing directions, and he required several days of peace and quiet after finishing the volume. Frank Cannon, on the other hand, studied what seemed to be a manual or instruction on how to perform fantastic feats. Were these instructions just the rambling of a deranged mind, or was there some form of truth in the strange incantations and inscriptions? Frank Cannon was tempted to find out.

The Three Amigos were enjoying a lavish breakfast on March 16 when an unannounced visitor arrived. It was not Father Bose (a regular by now), but a square-jawed stranger with a small military escort who introduced himself as Don Dixon, an astronomer from California. Mr. Dixon told Ashford, McCloud and Cannon that the Federal Government was going to build a new observatory up in the Capitan Mountains north of Lincoln, and that he was interested in hiring help to do the prospecting for a suitable site. Lotus Ashford volunteered Harris Tweed as they all enjoyed cold, sweet iced tea. Dixon seemed like an amicable character, but something was gnawing at Frank Cannon's mind. Was there any connections between the strange events around the Mitscher Ranch and the government plans to all of  a sudden establish an observatory? However, the survey went well, and Harris Tweed could tell Ashford and friends that the government was planning a fairly large structure.

Don Dixon

A couple of weeks later it was Father Bose's turn to show up as a bearer of strange news. He  had heard several rumors of thefts in the community. Nothing really valuable, mainly food and random knick-knacks. Then it was Pedro, who in all fairness did enjoy his tequila quite a bit, who claimed he had seen a werewolf or some other kind of monstrosity with horns and glowing eyes. The case intrigued the Three Amigos, and they started setting out little caches of food and other items as well as guards to see if the Mitscher Ranch might attract any werewolves or mean spirits with red eyes. 

It was on the very, very early morning of April 28 that a strange shadowy presence was noted spying at the Mitscher Ranch. After careful deliberation it was decided that it wasn't a deer or a wolf, but something more simian- or human like. Two ranch hands took to the chase together with McCloud, Ashford and Cannon, and thanks to the finely honed tracking skills of McCloud, the fleeing presence was cornered almost two miles north of the Mitscher Ranch. The strange being attempted to flee, but was met by a flying tackle performed with outstanding skill by Frank Cannon. As Cannon grabbed and struggled with the being, it turned out be a quite disheveled young man in a tattered U.S. Army uniform. He seemed utterly insane, and his mouth struggled to form coherent words besides the animal-like grunts and screams he emitted. Finally, the young man looked at the Three Amigos, and frothing at the corners of his mouth he repeatedly wailed "DON'T LET THEM GET ME!"

ARKHAM ADVERTISER, Monday, 13 April, 1925

 TOPSFIELD POWER PLANT EXPLOSION

The Topsfield Power Plant was destroyed in a series of powerful explosions followed by a conflagration that left the Arkham Fire Department helpless to curb the flames. The cause of the explosions remains to be determined, but it has been noted that Dr. MacNamara, Ms. Baker, Mr. Lake, Mr. Pollack and Mr. Bowers, all of Arkham, are held by the Arkham Police for questioning, although some of these individuals were severely injured in the blast. Mr. Lake has also been charged with reckless driving. Neither the owner of the power plant, Mr. Otto Argo, nor the site manager, Mr. Bogislav Klimnik, have been available to comment. 

Mayor Jonathan D. Bryce held a press conference this morning, and he stressed the serious nature of the explosion, and how Arkham has been plagued by a series of violent events over the last week or so. Mayoral candidate Dunstan Dunford accused Mayor Bryce of displaying "yet another example of his legendary ineptitude" in dealing with the current bout of violence, while Councilman Bedford Duvall pointed out that the destruction of the power plant will lead to a permanent power shortage in the Miskatonic Valley.

Deranged Doctor found outside Arkham

An individual later identified as Dr. Peter Maxwell was found running around the forests north of Arkham in a state of acute mental distress. He had no memories whatsoever, and he was dressed in a full surgeon's outfit, including facemask, gloves and goggles, and a scalpel.

Dr. Maxwell had just graduated from the Miskatonic University Department of Medicine. He was a recipient of the Francis B. Peabody prize for Academic Achievement together with Mr. Herbert West in 1924. Dr. Maxwell has since been left in the caring hands of Dr. Herbert DeVos and Head Nurse Abigail Dawson at the Arkham Sanitarium.  

Interview with a Fish Man

Miss Corinne Hill had the opportunity to speak to Jebediah Pike, an inhabitant of Kingsport who has cultivated an odd pastime, or even obsession, over the course of several years: he thinks he is a  fish man, a creature of legend and also associated with many myths from Arkham County. Mr. Pike invited the journalist from the Arkham Advertiser to visit his small house in Kingsport. It was a quite unique abode, very well kept, with lots of art and objects that remind the visitor of fish and the sea. He was particularly proud of what he claims is one of the actual gate keys to the lost city of Atlantis, although it may strike the astute observer that vague lettering spelling out "1872 Oregon State Fair" still can be noticed along the admittedly impressive key.

The following conversation was recorded:

- Mr. Pike, how long have you been a fish man?

- I have been a fish man my entire life. Well, I was originally a fish boy, and very interested in the sea and aquatic life, but when other boys started on the path to adulthood, I developed gills.

- Gills?

- Yes, you  heard right. Here, let me show you my gills (removes collar).

- Mr. Pike, these bear a striking resemblance to folds of skin with some dander...

- Indeed, but I can use these folds to stay under water for more than two minutes! 

- Fantastic! Now tell me, How does one find suitable company as a fish man? Are there some nice fish women to be found in Kingsport?

- I often attend the tea dance at the Mermaid Café, and yes, there might be someone special with whom I take swims when the water isn't too cold. As a matter of fact, we are planning a small wedding at the Boston Aquarium this July.

- That is great news, congratulations to both of you! Some people are, however, afraid of the sea, and there are quite a few legends of malicious creatures from the sea. Has this ever been bothersome to you?

- In general, the fine townsfolk here are quite used to my "fishy" habits, and I supply both Arkham and Boston with some of the finest fish on the market. I also dress up as King Neptune with trident and all, or even a mermaid, for various pageantries in the Miskatonic Valley. People around here know me well. But there was this one case, when I had heard vague rumors of a fish-themed church in Innsmouth, quite a ways north of here. They were not at all glad to see me, and I was fortunate to have an automobile so that I could make a fleet escape. 

We may not have found out much more about what might be behind some of the myths regarding mere-folk and fish men, but I am so very glad to be living in one of the richest regions of the United States when it comes to sheer eccentricity.

Mr. Jebediah Pike.

B&L Bankruptcy

The Barrow and Locke Mining Company has been declared bankrupt after a violent strike that led to an investigation by the Massachusetts Board of Labor. Several workers had been poisoned by unsafe practices, and legal action will follow.

Strange Find in Fire 

Following the explosion and fire in the Topsfield Power Plant, Arkham police discovered the remnants of three individuals, apparently triplets. The Arkham Police did not divulge further details, but unconfirmed information indicates that this may be a lead in the case of the Handley triplets that disappeared in 1869.