Authors: Pete Rawlik
In the New World, he first lived in Quebec, but then in 1688 travelled to New England where he felt comfortable enough to use his real name. He took up residence briefly in Kingsport, then in Arkham, and finally around 1701 in Innsmouth, where distant cousins had also found homes. During this time he met a number of men, both native to the area and colonists like himself, including C who now had built a home in nearby Providence. He formed a small cadre, who together studied the library of occult lore and mysticism that they had secretly accumulated. Had he been able to find it, Reverend Ward Phillips would have burned that collection to ash, and then thrown him into the pyre as well. The names of these likeminded men, Joseph Curwen, Simon Orne, and Edward Hutchinson, are familiar to me, and yet I am also wary of them. For while they and Ephraim were friends, they did not always agree on the means to support common causes, and above all else, the individual will to survive has always been paramount.
It was in 1720 that Curwen came to his home in Innsmouth, and warned of the rumors that had reached him. Ephraim had been unwise, his studies had revealed to him a form of energy, a vitality that could be distilled from a variety of sources that retarded the aging process, and he had used it liberally. He had not been a young man when he had come to Innsmouth, but after nineteen years his lack of aging had drawn attention. He was being watched by curious and dangerously superstitious folk. With some help from Curwen he abandoned his life in Innsmouth and quickly moved south, leaving the home and property in trust to cousins until his heirs returned to claim it.
In Philadelphia he used a significant amount of the vitality elixir and established himself as the young and energetic printer named George Gamwell. It was in this establishment that the young Benjamin Franklin first worked when he came to the city. It was a great loss to Ephraim when following a false promise by Governor Keith, Franklin left for London, and he noted his regrets over not being more vocal in his objections to the venture. Printing was not only a ruse by which to blend in to the town and earn a living, but it also allowed him the freedom to learn an art that he perceived as necessary to his future survival. While he printed books and pamphlets by day, by night he learned how to forge documents that would establish births and deaths, marriages and even lines of credit. In effect he could, given enough time, create an entirely new identity for himself or anyone else without fear of being caught.
He also continued his study of the occult sciences, learning the rules which governed the structure and processes of our universe, and how such things could be manipulated, circumvented and when necessary even bent to his will. But while such studies allowed him to influence the thoughts and actions of others, and given the right circumstances even manipulate the physical world itself, they paled in comparison to what studies Curwen and the others had undertaken. They sought to bend the laws of time and mind, and engaged in the wholesale resurrection of the dead. Had he not been provided with the formula for making such preparations, and the incantation that invoked the powers that reconstituted flesh and mind, he would not have believed it possible. To him such workings took too great a liberty, and he took measures to distance himself from the others.
It was not until that 1836 that circumstances forced him to return to Innsmouth. The intervening century had favored him, for he had profited off of trade and the war, and was heavily invested in a variety of ventures, all through the blind of various companies that served to keep him hidden. Whether he had lingered too long in Manhattan or his identity had been compromised, he did not know. Perhaps he had not hidden the transfers of funds and possessions as well as he thought. Regardless, his presence in Manhattan was discovered, and he rightfully feared what could happen to him if the truth were exposed. He wrote extensively concerning his preparations for quenching a man named Von Junzt, an occult academic who had been researching a book concerning hidden and forgotten cults, and had stumbled too closely as far as Ephraim was concerned. His plans for murdering the interloper were thwarted when the man suddenly departed for Washington D.C. In a panic Ephraim once more found a suitable victim, and undertook the Rendition of Souls. As expected, the procedure left him disoriented and with temporary memory loss. It took time for him to recover, and in the process the young man who was now suddenly in his ancient body went mad, escaped from his control, and set fire to the building. The flames spread and soon grew to an immense conflagration. He regretted that the disaster consumed so much of southern Manhattan, and that some innocents lost their lives, but most distressing was the loss of the documents he had prepared for his new life in Providence. Thus, Ephraim Waite returned to Innsmouth where he knew he could lay claim to his long abandoned property.
In Innsmouth he asserted his claim to the property, and his cousins had little choice but to turn over the house to their long lost kin, particularly after he produced a key and papers that linked him to the great grandfather for whom he had been named. Despite his legal claim, he was not welcomed in Innsmouth, for the Waites had long assumed the property to be theirs, and for it to suddenly be taken from them was no small imposition. In his absence, Innsmouth had developed into a profitable little town, filled with mostly pedestrian of folk content to work as simple fishermen, boat wrights or tradesmen. Some, particularly the Marsh, Sandwin and Eliot families, had established routine trade with the Far East, including China, India and the islands of the Pacific such as Java and Sumatra. Such connections were useful to his studies and he cultivated strong ties with the Marsh and Gilman families, and where possible with the Waites as well. It took time, but time was something he had plenty of.
Or so he thought. The details that Ephraim relates concerning the decline in trade that had made the town rich, and how the Marsh family and their allies fell on hard times, are too great to relate here. It is apparent from his notes that between the failure of the merchant fleet, and poor fishing catches, the town fell into debt and despair. It did not help when the boats out of Rowley were seen in waters off of Innsmouth. Anger and violence, however, does not put food on the table. At a loss, the townsfolk turned to the church and prayer for deliverance from famine and poverty. They prayed in vain, and as the years passed the town of Innsmouth slowly spiraled into near destitution.
Captain Obed Marsh was an aging scion of one of the founding families of Insmouth, and he felt some responsibility for the situation. He could often be found in the local bar deep into his cups, angrily railing against paying fealty to a god that allowed nets to be empty and children to go hungry. In this opinion he often found commonality with another man, a curious fellow by the name of Mentzel who had rented a cottage down the shore near Falcon Point. He claimed to be an antiquarian working on a book concerning the history of Essex County. This assertion gained him access to a wide variety of records and accounts that would under most circumstances be closed. He seemed particularly interested in the Marsh family history, focusing much on Obed’s grandfather Obadiah and the loss of his ship the Corey, and the wives that the survivors had brought back from the Marquesas. Ephraim did not much like speaking to Mr. Steven Mentzel. His voice lacked emotion, his eyes and face seemed wholly unanimated, his manner of speaking was very odd and confusing, and he often had intimations of knowledge that seemed beyond him. Ephraim was particularly disturbed by his discussion of the seizure of Hong Kong by the British a full day before the event was reported in the press. That this man was one to whom Captain Obed was willing to listen concerned him greatly, but there was little Ephraim could do. When Mentzel announced that he was departing the village, Ephraim was grateful and wished him well with whatever work he had in the hamlet of Zaman’s Hill.
Whatever Mentzel and Marsh had discussed and planned came to a crisis in 1846. Ephraim spent pages detailing how Obed eventually gathered to his side a number of his former crew and their families and began preaching against the churches of the town. Ephraim wrote about how the Order grew, and how eventually Captain Obed Marsh was arrested and jailed on trumped-up charges. In response to Obed’s incarceration nature itself seemed to go awry, and the village was beset by monsters. Matt Eliot and a few others who had opposed Obed had been killed in the invasion from the sea. In the end Obed Marsh was in command, with the town of Innsmouth firmly in his grip.
Rumors were spread to explain what had happened; a plague had come to Innsmouth, and brought with it madness and violence. Its victims had succumbed quickly, but entire families had been lost and as a preventative measure some homes had been razed. Obed posted guards on the road and rail and made sure that no one could leave without his word. It was soon after this that Obed and the Order took new wives. No one ever learned where they came from; some thought they were from Persia, and the veils they wore in public were required by their Mohammedan faith. But Ephraim suspected they were something different, and gave them a wide berth, for he was sure that the reins of power were not held solely by Obed. Once, one of the Multree women asked what had become of the first wives, the ones that had been replaced. The next day she was found wandering the streets, her eyes glazed over, her mind lost. After that, even the faithful learned it was better not to ask questions.
Obed may have had complete control over the town, but he still had to deal with the outside world. It was in this capacity that Ephraim found himself making regular trips to Arkham and Kingsport to handle what business those in Innsmouth still had outside its limits. Do not think that during these trips he did not consider escape. A weird shadow had fallen over Innsmouth and those inhabitants that remained were slowly succumbing to its influence. Yet while some would flee from such events, he felt strangely comforted. Obed Marsh may have been in league with some festering aquatic nightmare, but Ephraim had seen worse bargains made. Besides, the darkness that slowly encompassed Innsmouth was no threat to him; on the contrary it provided a most excellent place to hide and carry out his experiments without fear of discovery or reprisal. He thought about fighting it, or fleeing, but instead he succumbed, and while he did not embrace the madness that was around him, he did nothing to stop it.
It must seem pedantic to repeat so much fantastic and eerie history here, but I do it to educate myself, to summarize and correlate the facts as I see them. With each passing minute, my memories of the past return, and I can begin to understand the truth of what has happened here.
The secession of the southern states brought the war and the draft. There are stories of the men of Innsmouth to be told, particularly of the crew of the Manuxet, but now is not the time. It was because of the war, and those who had left the village, that the term “Innsmouth Look” first gained a foothold. They used it in Arkham and Kingsport mostly, to explain the physical attributes that afflicted the young men of Innsmouth almost without variation. These attributes were most noticeable in the facial features which consisted of a low sloping forehead, reduced ears, large bulging eyes, thin lips and the almost complete lack of a chin. There was also an odd texture to the skin that gave it a squamous appearance, particularly around the neck and eyes. It was plain to Ephraim that these characteristics had been inherited through the maternal bloodline, for no man of Innsmouth had ever bore such an appearance, though he had seen hints of such traits in paintings of Roderick Marsh, Obed’s father. Still, his belief that the look had been inherited from the foreign women Obed had brought to Innsmouth was only supposition. It had been thirty years since the new wives had been taken, and he had yet to see one without her veil.
All that changed when in the middle of a warm summer night he was roused from his slumber and was quickly whisked down the road to the stately, though slowly decaying, Marsh Family home. That Obed Marsh was dying was not entirely surprising. He had been called Old Obed for a long time, and his health of late had not been good. Ephraim’s confusion lay in the fact that he had been summoned to see him, for he could not fathom that he had a purpose in Obed’s passing. He was not alone in this puzzlement, for as he passed through the halls of that home, the gathered family stared in wonder, confusion and resentment. He wanted to pause and confer with them, but was given no opportunity for such a luxury. Time was of the essence, and without so much as a word he was shuffled into Obed’s bedchamber.
The room was humid, and reeked of strange musty odors that Ephraim could not place. A thin film of scum seemed to have coated the walls and wooden furniture, and he was careful to avoid touching anything. The man who had fetched him refused to cross the threshold, and instead shut the great door leaving Ephraim alone with the dying man and the five veiled women who hovered about in the shadows. At first Ephraim thought that they were Obed’s nurses, but as they sat by his side, it soon became clear that the relationship was much more intimate than that. A chair had been set nearby and when one of the women motioned him forward he had little choice but to sit down next to the old man and his handlers.
Marsh was weak, his breathing was labored; his voice little more than a whisper, Ephraim had to strain to hear him as he spoke. “Waite, you have to help us. Something is going to happen. We have to prepare.”
Ephraim was suddenly eager to hear what Marsh had to say. “What Obed, what is going to happen?”
Marsh reached out and patted Ephraim’s hand with his withered and boney claw, “Something terrifying and unnatural: something that threatens not only the world, but the entire universe. We must be prepared to intervene, but only when the time is right. To do otherwise will only make things worse.”
Ephraim begged the dying sea captain for more information but he was still too cryptic. “Mentzel knew, and when the time comes he will send his agent. He will explain everything. You must be patient. The Daughters will help you, they will guide the breeding. But watch them carefully, for they have their own agenda and are not above seizing power if they are able. There are factions Ephraim, the Daughters, the Order, those who have been tainted by the Dreaming God. They are united in their opposition to the Vugg-Shoggog, but that is all. Once the danger has passed . . .” He coughed violently. “Barnabas will run things, but you Ephraim, ye’ll make sure to keep them ship-shape. There are plans my friend, and plans within plans.”