Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep367: Episode 367: Fantastical Horror

Episode Date: September 6, 2026

Today’s phenomenal first offering is ‘The Dullahan’, an original work by dazz123d; a story shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me read it here for you all:https://www.reddit.com/user/dazz123d/We follow this with ‘The Witch's Pet’, a fantastic original work by Iris in the Burning Sage, again kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.https://www.reddit.com/user/IrisintheBurningSageToday’s final tale of terror is ‘Derelict’, a classic work by William Hope Hodgson, a story in the public domain but recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license:https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Derelict

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's dungeon. If you're feeling lonely, dim all the lights and put on a horror podcast. After a while, you won't feel like you're alone anymore. Three terrifying tales of terror for you this evening. Our opening offering is the Dullahan by Dars 1-2-3D. We follow this with The Witch's Pet by Iris in the Burning Sucing. stage. We round off this evening of horror with the classic work derelict by William Hope Hodgson. Now as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language,

as well as descriptions of violence and horrific acts. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. St. Town's Avenue was quiet of late. Maybe it be the rumors, or maybe it be the chill that rested on the hollow the town was built on. Whatever the reason, teeth were chattering and bodies clenched tight to try and hold on to the final remains of heat that their bodies clung to. Rural Kerry was no place for the weak of heart nor a week of body, that's for sure. Father of the family, my family, Tommy Joe, T.J. John McDonnor ran his family like a soldier's battalion, and he ran it well. Worked from dawn until dusk as long as weather allowed it, day in, day out. farming life was the life of a hard man a man of steel he was raised such a way and likewise so would his son be he believed when he was too old and almost forgotten the son james would take the farm by its reins and once more hold it steady in the family name

father didn't know of my deepest desires and plans to move away and study the very idea he scoffed at he almost choked on his bread when nancy mum merely mentioned the idea of her son bettering himself away from a life of labour and back-breaking farm work. A swift smack at the back of his hand to her soft cheek. Surely quieted, ma'am, and any further talk of James leaving or the farm being sold when they got too old. With a swollen cheek, ma'am comforted herself as she cried, and the rest attended their daily chores. My chores finished early, I'd hidden behind round bales of hands. and write stories to my little sister. She was the apple of my eye

and the reason that at 17 I hadn't left already. Leaving her tore my heart to pieces, and I knew soon the day would come. James, what are the rumours of the caller of death? The duller hand, my friend Mary called him. Can you tell me more, please, brother? Please, I won't tell Mom. Okay.

I whispered in a lower voice. The Dullahan are an ancient folk, not like the Banshee or the Faye. They are far, far older. The Dullahan come to reap a soul and take whomever they choose whenever they want. They say to look into the eyes of the head he carries his like gazing into hell itself. They are to be feared and one cannot run nor can one hide. The Dullahan is headless, but the head he holds in his hand sees all in this world. world and many other worlds unknown to us, or so the tales go. He has many weapons, but his favorite

is that of a whip made of a human spine and wrapped in the skin of human to form a lever. He will whip you twice, leaving an X on your face, before calling your full name, forcing your soul to exit its body, and to follow him and his stallion on which he rides to the underworld. Lillie's lip began to quiver and tears build up in her eyes. The rumors, she mumbled. Yeah, that's why they closed Mark's coffin, because of the X on his face, and how he died so suddenly. The rumors of the man on horseback who screamed his name before he died.

It all makes sense now, really cried silently as possible. Hush, hush, I comforted her. They're just stories and people spreading panic and fear. Don't you worry one bit. Oh, I've got you, sis. No demon could ever separate us. You know that. Lily Foster smiled through teary eyes.

And hand in hand we made our way home, as work was done and night had fallen quickly. In the distance near the farmhouse, an orange glow and smoke led us both know instantly. Fire! We screamed. We sprinted towards the house, and upon reaching there,

my mom wrapped her arms around me. I tried to stop him, son. I'm sorry. I really tried to stop him. She roared over the crackling flames. I looked down to see a pit of every book I'd ever owned. Every leaflet of colleges up and down the country. Anything and everything I ever had an interest in outside that farm,

my father had burnt in a fire pit, including my wooden box of savings from the last few years of work. Any inkling of a life away from this plane was quickly turning to ash and leaving on the breeze. The anger built and grew in every fibre of my body. Me, now twice the size and man my father had ever been incapable of crushing him easily with a simple few blows of my fists. Mom, seeing the anger brew within me, pleaded me not to, but my father, fueled by whiskey, pleaded for a row.

I was not the man my father wanted me to be, and I would not imitate his actions. Never, I took my sister by the hand and headed into the darkness, leaving them both screaming and fighting in the dark. His calls for a fight becoming an echo as we walked away. I grown tired of my mother's unwillingness to leave and instead stay and be his punching bag after my years of pleading and begging her. My anger now even grew like a mould spreading from my father to my mother, encasing them both with the same sickness I felt for each now. Within the fog and darkness, they could not see where Lily and I silently made our way to the barn in the second acre, just far enough to be safe until morning when all would be so. Sadly, this was not our first camp-out, and we had blankets and snacks ready for a night just like this.

After a steady munch, I began to drift into sleep when Lily pushed me awake. From where we lay, the doorway gave us perfect views. There, sitting on a large, dark stallion, was a man. The moon behind him, so shadows only barely helped emphasize his silhouette. and my sister held her breath in fear. The smell of leather and sweating equine filled my nostrils, that and the occasional rustle of steel on leather stirrues. I searched for a head that I could not find.

Just a collar, I think, a scarf and other items found around one's neck. And I was shocked when I found it. It wasn't where it belonged. Resting in his left hand, its unethed. eye staring directly into mine lay the head of the dollar heart i scuttled back on my hands and feet as the horse too raised its head to glare at me its burning red eyes i swear burned holes into my very soul i watched in utter horror and disbelief as the sound of something unrolled and broke the silence i realized now his whip lay by his side and with a single kick he moved these beast and himself towards my house

Finally, I heard Lily Wimper and let out a cry. It's him. It's him. It's him. It's the Dullahun, the caller of death. I hushed her as best I could, and made my way out of the barn doors and ran towards the house. Almost blindly, as the fog had rolled in and taken sight from everyone and everything.

I finally reached my house. I was already too late. My mom, for some reason, weeping on my dad's behalf, on her knees, as she pleaded with the Dullahan not to take him. The speaking head in the ancient beast's hands glanced at me with a look that came from hell itself. My father stumbled towards the Dullahan as he played almost joyfully with his whip of human bone and leather.

In an instant two sounds rang out, and an X, at least two inches deep, lay perfectly across my father's face. The Dullahan then pointed the eyes of his carried deep, decapitated head towards my father. It cleared its throat as it spoke to Tommy Joe John McDonough. Your soul now must follow me, and I hope for your sake to not have to visit this land once more.

And with that my father collapsed and died, and the Dullahan was gone. Three months have passed since the events that plagued our small village. Unfortunately, Lily saw far more than I wished, but somehow it made her stronger. A brief sit-down among ourselves, let us all delve into our perspectives and understand each other's knowledge and point of view.

We grieved and cried together. Still a family, thank God. It helped us all understand each other better and to put this story together bit by bit from all the angles. This in turn helped me write to the best of my ability, everyone's perspective, and story as best I could. Lily intends to go to college when she's old enough and become a teacher which fills my heart with joy. Mum has been up and down since Dad, departed, as she puts it.

But to be honest, once the farm is sold, which won't be long, her life will be much improved. She just doesn't realize it yet. All she knew was pain and suffering and grief at his hands, so I'm sure her happiness will come. she has lily and i to help her find it and you're probably wondering about me my dreams might have been burnt in a pit that night but i kept many stored up here in this brain of mine and one day you may very well hear or very well call upon the practice or nurses of dr james mcdonor well that's what the future holds i hope and i imagine soon i will get there Please God keep your eyes on the papers and watch out for my name as I'm sure it'll appear one day. As for the dollar-hound, keep your eyes wide and ears peeled for the sound of steel horseshoe and cobble, as it could never be mistaken.

Never be the reason he, like a hound from hell, comes calling your name. Live your life and live it well, and that alone may keep the sound of horseshoes distant. far too distant to ever be coming to a town near you. In our second tale of terror this evening, we move on from headless horsemen to witch's pets. Travis dropped his cigarette and stomped it out with his steel-toed boot. He'd taken up smoking again after three years of quitting. It was a habit his wife had despised.

A smell on his breath was enough to make her face contort in disgust. He'd quit for her, seeing her. seeing as her face was too beautiful to bear such an expression. Her face wasn't around to make that expression anymore, so there was no point in not lighting up now. Come here, boy. Travis whistled for his pit bull, Ajax, to return to his side. As he knew his baby brother, Charlie,

would be rolling up Eddie Middough in his old pickup truck, the rusting one with big chip paint and squeaky tires, and would have his little girl, Lizzie, with him. Ajax was a big and scary looking dog, who, while aggressive, wouldn't think to attack unprovoked. Nonetheless, the dog scared the little girl to tears. Travis hated having to keep his companion chained up for more than an hour, but he loved his niece and wanted her to have a fun time at Grandma's house. Travis and Charlie's mother, Mabel, was a cavacious woman with thinning hair,

blue, eye-shadow caked on her eyelids, and fiery red lipstick smeared, everywhere but her lips. Mabel Cattleman was once the prom queen and desired by every man in town. She could have gone anywhere and done anything she wanted to but opted to become a schoolteacher

in the old country town she was born and raised in. She inevitably grew tired of tending to children like they were glorified swine, always stating as she slumped down into the dirty old couch with her cause light to watch Sunday night football. I don't want to go to work.

Travis realized his dog still hadn't returned to him. He called out for Ajax again. Here, boy, here! He whistled, but Ajax still hadn't returned. The only sound being Mabel's favourite wind chime, the one with bundles of sage and crystals hanging from the chimes. Oh, shit, damn dog, Travis grumbled as he stomped off the front porch and into the humid night air,

some bleached grass crunching underneath his boots, his left leg dragging behind him as usual. Hey, Jacks, he snapped, more firmly this time. The motion of walking was painful enough, but Travis wasn't going to risk his dog's safety. That dog was the only thing that had helped him get through the years after his wife's death. The summer cold that sent her six feet underground.

He didn't even get to keep a penny of, her life insurance policy, it all went to hospital bills in the funeral. Losing his four-legged friend too was not an option. He scratched at his beard, a cigarette ashes fell from it like snow, or maybe they were tortilla chip crumbs from last night's taco dinner. I should try to wash up before Lizzie gets here. He thought to himself while scouring the land for his dock. Ajax, come here, boy!

He shouted again, not noticing the red splattered across the cross. grasp beneath him. Suddenly, a loud, wolf-like growl came from somewhere behind him. Travis spun around quickly, hoping deep down that that sound was coming from his beloved pets. He knew better, seeing the six floating red orbs shining in the darkness just beyond the tree line. Slowly, a massive wolf-like creature stalked out into the open. Its fur was darker than black. spidear-like eyes that were scattered across its large forehead, burned blood red, and scowled with hatred. Long yellow claws protruded from the ends of its paws, at the end of tree-trunk-like legs. Blinding white canines like swords were bared by its deep and distorted snarl, and it

had ears that were long and came to a sharp point. All the colour drained from Travis's face, as he stared at the monster. He had only one clear thought. That's not Ajax. Travis turned to flee, stomping and stumbling in the hope of getting away. He thought, if you just get to a vehicle, he could be okay. He'd even settle for the rusty lawnmow that was older than him.

He begged Mabel to get a new one, but she refused to part with it. Soon enough, his right leg got caught in something hidden in the grass. causing him to fall flat on the ground. Travis looked behind him, seeing the creature bounding towards him. He began to claw at the ground, trying to drag himself along, but he stopped once he realized what he had tripped over.

Ajax. The truck braked with a piercing screech as Charlie pulled up outside his mother's house. She stood on the porch to greet them, her eye shadow smearing as she rubbed her tired eyes. A little blonde-haired girl flew out of the truck Before it could truly stop "'Grammy!' she squealed in delight

As she leapt up into the old woman's arms. "'Hello, little dizzy,' Mabel said with a smile too big for her face. "'Where's Travis?' Charlie asked as he got out of the driver's seat, not feeling the need to lock the truck. Mabel's already wide smile seemed to grow even bigger. remembering the pain-filled house and shrieks from earlier before. She was going to do it the same way he did. That would have been the poetic way, but he needed to suffer.

The taste of poison wasn't good enough. Oh, he won't be around for a while, she said simply, able to fool her son that nothing was wrong. Now you both get inside and wash up for dinner. Mabel set the little girl down and ushered her. and her father inside the house. Then she turned towards the tree line and smiled at the set of shining red eyes

looking back at her. She whispered. The eyes seemed to bob in a nod. Mabel waved happily as the eyes disappeared and then turned to go back inside her run-down shack. Ready to crack open her beer in celebration. She had gotten her daughter-in-law's revenge. It seems much too soon to be saying this, but we're already on to tonight's final story.

But don't worry, dear ladies and gentlemen, it's the feature-length classic derelict by William Hope Hodgson. It's the material, said the old ship's doctor. The material plus the conditions end. Maybe. He added slowly. A third factor. Yes, a third factor, but they're... There. He broke off his half-meditative sentence and began to charge his pipe.

Go on, doctor, we said encouragingly, and with more than a little expectancy. We were in the smoke room of the Sandalais, running across the North Atlantic, and the doctor was a character. He concluded the charging of his pipe and lit it, and then settled himself, and began to express himself more fully. The material! he said with conviction, is inevitably the medium of expression of the life force, the fulcrum, as it were, lacking which it is unable to exert itself, or indeed to express itself in any form or fashion that would be intelligible or evident to us. So potent is the share of the material in the production of that thing which we name life,

and so eager the life force to express itself that I'm convinced it would, if given the right conditions, make itself manifest even through so hopeless seeming a medium as a simple block of saw and wood. For I tell you, gentlemen, the life force is both as fiercely urgent and as indiscriminate as fire, the destructor, yet which some are now growing to consider the very essence of life rampant. There's a quaint-seeming paradox there, he concluded, nodding his old grey head. Yes, Doctor, I said, in brief your argument is that life is a thing state fact or element call it what you like which requires the material through which to manifest itself and that given the material plus the conditions the result is life in other words that life is an involved product manifested through matter and bread of conditions say as we understand the word said the old doctor though mind you there may be a third factor but in my heart I believe that it's a matter of chemistry, conditions in a suitable medium,

but given the conditions the brute is so almighty that it will seize upon anything through which to manifest itself. It is a force generated by conditions, but nevertheless it does not bring us one iota nearer to its explanation any more than to the explanation of electricity or fire. They are all three of the outer forces, monsters of the void. Nothing we can do will create any one of them. Our power is merely to be able

by providing the conditions to make each one of them manifest our physical senses. Am I clear? Yes, Doctor. In a way you are, I said, but I don't agree with you,

though I think I understand you. Electricity and fire are both what I call natural things, but life is an abstract something, kind of all-permeating wakefulness. Oh, I can't explain it. Who could? But it is spiritual, not just a thing bred out of a condition, like fire, as you say, or electricity. It is a horrible thought of yours.

Life's a kind of spiritual mystery. Ah, easy, my boy, said the old doctor, laughing gently to himself. Or else I may be asking you to do. demonstrate the spiritual mystery of life, of the limpid or the crab, shall we say? He grinned at me with ineffable perverseness. Anyway, he continued, as I suppose you've all guessed, I've a yarn to tell you in support of my impression that life is no more a mystery or a miracle than fire or electricity, but pleased to remember, gentlemen, that because we've succeeded in naming and making good use

of these two forces, they are just as much mystery. fundamentally now as ever. And anyway, the thing I'm going to tell you won't explain the mystery of life, but I only give you one of my pegs on which I hang my feeling that life is, as I've said, a force made manifest through conditions. That is to say, natural chemistry, and that it can take for its purpose and need the most incredible and unlikely matter. For without matter it cannot come into existence.

It cannot become manifest. Oh, I don't agree with you, Doctor, I interrupted. Your theory would destroy all belief in life after death. It would, hush, Sonny, said the old man, with a quiet little smile of comprehension. Hark to what I have to say first, and, anyway, what objection have you to material life after death? And if you object to a material framework, I would still have you remember that I, speaking of life, as we understand the word in this, our life, now do be quiet that, or I'll never be done. It was when I was a young man, and that's a good many years ago, gentlemen. I passed my

examinations, but it was so run down with overwork that it was decided I'd better take a trip to sea. I was by no means well off, and very glad in the end to secure a nominal post as doctor in the sailing passenger clipper running out to China. The name of the ship was, but opposite, and soon after I got all my gear aboard, she cast off, and we dropped down the Thames, and next day we were well out in the channel. The captain's name was Gannington, a very decent man, though quite illiterate. The first mate, Mr. Berlies, was a quiet, sternish reserve man, very well read. The second mate, Mr. Selvan, was, perhaps by birth and upbringing, the most socially cultured of the three, but he lacked the stamina and indomitable plucked.

of the other two. He was more of a sensitive and emotionally and even mentally, well, the most alert man of the three. On our way out, we called it Madagascar, where we landed some of our passengers. Then we ran eastward, meaning to call at Northwest Cape, but about a hundred degrees east, we encountered very dreadful weather, which carried away all our sails and sprung the gibham and the foric gland mast. Well, the storm carried us northward for several. a hundred miles and when it dropped us finally we found ourselves in a very bad state the ship had been strained and had taken some three feet of water through her seams the main topmast had been sprung in addition to the gibber and the foric gullum must two of our boats had gone as also one of the pigstites

with three fine pigs these latter haven't been washed overboard but some half hour before the wind began to ease which it did very quickly though uh very ugly sea ran for some hours after. The wind left us just before dark, and when morning came it brought weather, splendid weather, a calm, mildly undulating sea and a brilliant sun with no wind.

It showed us also that we were not alone. For about two miles away to the westward was another vessel, which Mr. Selvin, the second mate, pointed out to me. That's a pretty rum-looking packet, doctor, he said and handed me his glass. I looked through it at the other vessel and saw what he meant. At least I thought I did. Yes, Mr. Selvin, I said.

She's got a pretty old-fashioned look about her. He laughed at me in his pleasant way. It's easy to see you or not a sailor, doctor, he remarked. There's a dozen rum of things about her. She's a derelict. It's been floating around by the look of her for many a score of years. Look at the shape of her counter and the bows and coars. hot water. She's as old as the hills, as you might say, and ought to have gone down to Davy Jones

a good while ago. Oh, look at the growths on her, the thickness of her standing rigging. That's all salt incrustations I fancy, well, if you notice the white colour. Well, she's been a small bark, but don't you see, she's not a yard left aloft. They've all dropped out of the slings, everything right away. Wonder the standing rigging hasn't gone too. Oh, I wish the old man had let us take the boat and have a look at her. Or she'd be well worth it. They seemed little chance, however, of this, for all hands were turned to and kept hard at all day repairing the damage to the masks and gear, and this took a long while, as you may think.

Part of the time I gave a hand heaving on one of the deck captains, for the exercise was good for my liver. Oh, Captain Gannington approved, and I persuaded him to come along and try some of the same medicine, which he did, and we got very chummy over the job. We got talking about the derelict, and he remarked how lucky we were not to have run full tilt onto her in the darkness, for she lay right away to the leeward of us, according to the way we'd been drifting in the storm.

He was also of the opinion that she had a strange look about her, that she was pretty old, but on this latter point he plainly had far less knowledge than the second mate, for he was, as I've said, an illiterate man, and knew nothing of Seacraft beyond what experience had taught him. He lacked the book knowledge which the second mate had of vessels previous to his day, which it appeared the derelict was. Ah, she's an olden, doctor, was the extent of his observations in this direction. Yet, when I mentioned to him that it would be interesting to go aboard and give her a bit of an overhaul,

he nodded his head as if the idea had already been in his mind and accorded with his own inclinations. Ah, when the work's over, Doctor. He said, Can't spare the men now, you know. Gotta keep all ship-shaping ready as smart as we can, but we'll take my jig and go off in the second dog-watch. The glass is steady, and it'll be a bit of a gam for us. That evening after tea,

Captain gave orders to clear the jig and get her overboard. The second mate was to come with us, and the skipper gave him word to see that two or three lamps were put into the boat, as it would soon fall dark. A little later we were pulling across the calmness of the sea with a crew of six at the oars and making very good speed of it. Now, gentlemen, I have detailed to you

with great exactness all the facts, both big and little, so that you can follow step by step each incident in this extraordinary affair. I want you now to pay the closest attention. I was sitting in the stern sheets with the second mate and the captain, who was steering,

and as we drew nearer and nearer to the stranger, as indeed did Captain Gannington and the second mate. She was, as you know, to the westward of us, and the sunset was making a great flame of red light to the back of her, so that she showed a little blurred and indistinct by reason of the halation of the night, which almost defeated the eye in any attempt to see her rotting spurs and standing rigging, submerged as they were in the fiery glory of the sunset. It was because of this effect of the sunset that we had come quite close, comparatively to the derelict before we saw that she was all surrounded by a sort of curious scum, the colour of which was difficult to decide upon by reason of the red light that was in the atmosphere,

by which afterwards we discovered to be brown. This scum spread all about the old vessel for many hundreds of yards in a huge irregular patch, a great stretch of which reached out to the eastward upon the starboard side of the boat some score or so fathoms away ah queer stuff said captain gannington leaning to the side and looking over something the cargo was gone rotten and worked out through her seams look at her bowels and stern said the second mate just look at the growth on her there were as he said great clumpings of strange-looking sea fungi under the bowels of the bowels and stern said there were as he said great clumpings of strange-looking sea fungi under the bowels and the short counter a stern. From the stump of her jibum and the cut-water great beards of rhyme and marine growth hung downward into the scum

that held her in. A blank starboard side was presented to us. All a dead, dirtyish white, streaked and mottled vaguely with dull masses of heavier colour. There's a steam or haze rising off her, said the second mate, speaking again. You can see it against the light.

It keeps coming and going. Look! I saw then what he meant, a faint haze or steam, either suspended above the old vessel or rising from her. And Captain Gallington saw it also. Spontaneous combustion, he exclaimed. We'll have to watch when he lift the hatches, and I see some poor devil that's got the board of her, but that ain't likely. We were now within a couple of hundred yards of the old derelict, and had entered into the brown scum. as it poured off the lifted oars

I heard one of the men mutter unto himself Oh damn treacle And indeed it was not something unlike it As the boat continued to forge nearer and nearer to the old ship The scum grew thicker and thicker So that at last it perceptibly slowed us down Give way lads put some beef into it sang out Captain Gannington

And thereafter there was no sound except the panting of men and the faint reiterated suck, suck of the sullen brown scum upon the oars as the boat was forced ahead. As we went, I was conscious of a peculiar smell in the evening air, whilst I had no doubt that the pudding of the scum by the oars made it rise, I could give no name to it, yet in a way it was vaguely familiar. We were now very close to the old vessel and presently she was high about us against the dying light. The captain called out then to, In with the boat oars and stand by the boat hook, which was done.

Abord there, ahoy! Abord there, ahoy! shouted Captain Gannington, but there came no answer. Only the dull sound of his voice going lost into the open sea, each time he sung out. Ahoy, aboard there. "'oy!' he shouted time after time, "'but there was only the weary silence of the old Hulk that answered us,

"'and somehow as he shouted, "'the while that I stared up half-expectantly at her, "'a queer little sense of oppression "'that amounted almost to nervousness came upon me. "'It passed, but I remember how I was suddenly aware that it was growing dark. "'Darkness comes fairly rapidly in the tropics, though not so quickly as many fiction writers seem to think. But it was not that the coming dusk had perceptibly deepened in that brief time of only a few moments,

but rather that my nerves had made me suddenly a little hypersensitive. Now I mention my state particularly, for I'm not a nervy man normally, and my abrupt touch of nerves is significant in light of what happened. There's no one on board there, said Captain Gannington. Give way, men. for the boat's crew had instinctively rested on their oars as the captain hailed the old craft. The men gave way again, and then the second mate called out excitedly. "'Oi! Look there! There's our pigsty! See, it's got bobbsey painted on the end.

Oh, he's drifted down here, and the scum's caught it. Oh, what a blessed wonder!' It was, as he said, our pigsty that had been washed overboard in the storm, and most extraordinary to come across it there. We'll tow it off with us when we go, said the captain, and shouted to the crew to get down to their oars, for they were hardly moving the boat, because the scum was so thick close in around the old ship that it literally clogged the boat from moving.

I remember that it struck me, in a half-conscious sort of way, as curious that the pig's eye, containing our three dead pigs, it managed to drift in so far unaided, whilst we could scarcely manage to force the boat in, now that we come right into the scum. But the thought passed from my mind, for so many things happened within the next few minutes. The man managed to bring the boat in alongside, within a couple of feet of the derelict, and the man with the boat hook hooked on.

Have you got all there for a? asked Captain Gannington. Yes, sir, said the bowman. and as he spoke there came a queer noise of tearing. "'What's that?' said the captain. "'It's Tor, sir. Tor clean away,' said the man, and his tone showed that he had received something of a shock. "'Get a hold again, then,' said Captain Gannington, irritably.

"'You don't suppose his paggot was built yesterday. "'Goshove the hook into the main chains.' "'The man did so gingerly, as you might say, for it seemed to me in the growing dusk that he put no strain onto the hook, though of course there was no need. You could see the boat could not go very far of herself in the stuff in which she was embedded. I remember thinking this, also as I looked up at the bulging side of the old vessel,

and then I heard Captain Gallington's voice. Lord, but she's old, and what a colour, doctor. Oh, she don't want half a paint, do she? Now then, somebody, one of them oars. An awe was passed to him, and he leant it up against the ancient bulging side. Then he paused, and called to the second mate to light a couple of the lamps, and stand by to pass them up, for darkness had settled down now upon the sea. The second mate lit two of the lamps, and told one of the men to light a third,

and keep it handy in the boat. And then he stepped across with a lamp in each hand, to where Captain Gannington stood by the oar against the side of the ship. No way, lad, said the captain to the man who had pulled to stroke. Up with you, and I'll pass ye up the lamps. Well, the man jumped to obey, caught the oar and put his weight upon it, and as he did so, something seemed to give way a little. Look, cried out the second mate, and pointed the lamp in hand.

It sunk in. This was true. The oar had made quite an indentation into the bulging, somewhat slimy side of the old vessel. "'A mould, I reckon,' said Captain Gannington, bending towards the derelict to look. And then to the man, "'Ah, up you go, my lad, and be smart. Don't stand there waiting.' At that, the man, who had paused a moment as he felt the ore gave beneath his weight, began to shin up, and in a few seconds he was aboard, and lent out over the rail for the

lamps. These were passed up to him, and the captain called to him to steady the awe. And then Captain Gannington went, calling for me to follow, and after me the second mate. And as the captain put his face over the rail, he gave a cry of astonishment. A mole, bigham! Moul! Tons of it! Oh, good lord! As I heard him shout that, I scrambled the more eagerly after him, and in a moment or two, I was able to see what he meant. Everywhere that the light from the two lamps struck, there was nothing but smooth, great masses

and surfaces of a dirty white-coloured mould. I climbed over the rail, with a second mate close behind, and stood upon the mould-covered decks. Well, there might have been no planking beneath the mould, for that our feet could feel. It gave way under our tread with a spongy puddingy feel. It covered the deck furniture of the old ship,

so that the shape of each article and fitment was often no more than suggested through it. Captain Gallington snatched a lamp from the man and the second mate reached for the other. They held the lamps high, and we all stared. It was most extraordinary and somehow most abominable. I can think of no other word, gentlemen, that so much describes the predominant feeling that affected me at the moment. Good Lord, said Captain Gallington several times. times. Good Lord. But neither the second mate nor the man said anything, and for my part I just stared, and at the same time began to smell a little at the air, for there was a vague odor of something

half-familiar that somehow brought to me a sense of half-known fright. I turned this way and that, staring, as I've said. Here and there the mould was so heavy as to entirely disguise what lay beneath, converting the deck fittings into indistinguishable mounds of mould, all dirty white and blotched and veined with irregular dull, purplish markings. There was a strange thing about the mould, which Captain Gallington drew attention to. It was that our feet did not crush into it and break the surface, as might have been expected, but merely indented it. I never seen nothing like it before. Never, said the captain, after having stood. stooped with his lamp to examine the mould under our feet. He stamped with his heel, and the mould gave out a dull pudding he sound.

He stooped again, and, with a quick movement, stared, holding the lamp close to the deck. Oh, blessed if it ain't a regular skin to it! The second mate and the man and I all stooped and looked at it. The second mate prodded it with his forefinger, and I remember I wrapped it several times with my knuckles, listening to the dead sound he gave out, and noticing the close, firm texture of the mould. Oh, the second mate said. Oh, it's just like blessed dough. Oof!

He stood up with a quick movement. Oh, I could fancy it stinks a bit, he said. As he said this, I knew, suddenly, what the familiar thing was in the vague odour that hung about us. It was that the smell had something animal. liken it, something of the same smell, only heavier that you would smell in any place that's infested with mice. I began to look about with a sudden, very real uneasiness. There might be vast numbers of hungry rats aboard. They might prove exceedingly dangerous if in a starving condition, yet, as you will understand, somehow I hesitated to put forward my idea as a reason for caution.

It was too fanciful. Captain Gannington had begun to go aft along the mole-covered main deck with the second mate, each of them holding their lamps high up so as to cast a good light about the vessel. I turned quickly and followed them, the man with me keeping close to my heels and plainly uneasy. As we went I became aware that there was a feeling of moisture in the air, and I remembered the slight mist or smoke above the hulk, which had made Captain Gallington suggest spontaneous combustion in his explanation.

And, always as we went, there was that vague animal smell. Suddenly I found myself wishing we were well away from this old vessel. Abruptly, after a few paces, the captain stopped and pointed at a row of mould hidden shapes on each side of the main deck. Guns, he said. Been a private deer in the old days, I guess. maybe worse. We'll have a look below, daughter. There may be something worth touching.

She's older than I thought. Mr. Selvin thinks she's about 200 years old, but I scarce think it. While we continued our way aft, I remember that I found myself walking as lightly and gingerly as possible as if I were subconsciously afraid of treading through the rotten, mold-hid decks.

I think the others had a touch of the same feeling from the way they were walking. Occasionally the soft stuff would grip on our heels, releasing them with a little sullen suck. The captain falls somewhat ahead of the second mate, and I know that the suggestion he'd made himself that perhaps there might be something below worth carrying away had stimulated his imagination.

The second mate was, however, beginning to feel somewhat the same way I did. At least I have that impression. I think if it had not been for what I might, might truly describe as Captain Gallington's sturdy courage. We should all of us have just gone back over the side very soon, for there was most certainly an unwholesome feeling abroad that made one feel queerly lacking in pluck,

and you'll soon see that this feeling was justified. Just as the captain reached the few mould-covered steps leading up onto the short half-poop, I was suddenly aware that the feeling of moisture in the air had grown very much more definite. It was perceptible now, intermittently, as a sort of thin, moist, fog-like vapour that came and went oddly, and seemed to make the decks a little indistinct to the view this time and that. Once an odd puff of it beat up suddenly from somewhere, and caught me in the face, carrying a queer, sickly heavy odour with it that somehow frightened me strangely with a suggestion of waiting and half-comprehended danger.

We'd follow Captain Gallington up the three mould-covered steps, and now went slowly along the raised after-deck. By the mizzenmast, Captain Gallington paused, and held his lantern near to it. "'My word, mister,' he said to the second mate. "'It's fair thickened up with mould. "'Why, I'll guarantee it's close on four-foot-thick.' "'He shone the light down to where it met the deck.

"'Oh, good lord,' he said. look at the sea-lice on it they stepped up and it was as he'd said the sea-lice were thick upon it some of them huge not less than the size of large beetles and all a clear colourless shade like water except there were little spots of grey on them i've never seen the like of them except on a live cod said captain cannington in an extremely puzzled voice my word but they're wopper Then he passed on, but a few paces farther aft, he stopped again and held his lamp near to the mould hidden deck. Oh, Lord bless me, doctor, he called out in a low voice. Did you ever see the like of that? Why, it's a foot long if it's an inch. I stooped over his shoulder and saw what he meant. It was a clear, colourless creature about a foot long and about eight inches high, with a curved back that was extraordinarily narrow.

As we stared, all in a group, he gave a queer little flick and was gone. "'Jumped,' said the captain. "'Well, if that ain't a giant of all the sea-lights that I have ever seen, "'I guess it's jumped twenty foot clear.' He straightened his back and scratched his head a moment, swinging the lantern this way and that with the other hand and staring about us. what are they doing aboard you he said oh you'll see em little things on fat cotton such like i'm blow-dotter if i understand he had his lamp towards a big mound of the mould that occupied part of the after portion of the lower poop deck a little foreside of where there came a two-foot-high break to a kind of second and loftier poop that ran aft to the taffrail the mound was pretty big several

feet across and more than a yard high. Captain Gallington walked up to it. I reckon this is the skull, he remarked, and gave it a heavy kick. The only result was a deep indentation to the huge whitish lump of mould, as if he'd driven his foot into a mass of some doughy substance. Yet, I'm not altogether correct in saying that this was the only result, for a certain other thing happened. From the place made by the captain's foot there came a sudden gush of a purplish fluid, accompanied by a peculiar smell that was and was not half familiar. Some of the mould-like sumptons had stuck to the toe of the captain's boot, and from this likewise there issued a sweat, as it were, of the same colour. Well, said Captain Gannington in surprise, and drew back his foot to make another kick at the hump of mould. but he paused at an exclamation from the second mate.

"'Oh, don't, sir,' said the second mate. I glanced at him, and the light from Captain Gallington's lamp showed me that his face had a bewildered, half-frightened look, as if he were suddenly and unexpectedly half-afraid of something, and as if his tongue had given away his sudden fright, without any intention on his part to speak. The captain also turned and stared at him. "'Why, mister?' he asked in a somewhat puzzled voice,

"'through which there sounded just the vaguest hint of annoyance. "'We've got to shift this mug if we are to get below.' "'I looked at the second mate, and it seemed to me that, "'curiously enough, he was listening less to the captain than to some other sound. "'Suddenly he said, in a queer voice, "'Listen, everybody!' "'Yet we heard nothing, beyond the faint murmur of the men, and talking together in the boat alongside.

I don't hear nothing, said Captain Gallington after a short pause. Do you, doctor? No, I said. What was it you thought you heard? The captain, turning again to the second mate. But the second mate shook his head in a curious, almost irritable way, as if the captain's question interrupted his listening. Captain Gallington stared a moment at him,

then held his lantern up and glanced about him almost uneasily. I know I felt a queer sense of strain, but the light showed nothing beyond the grayish, dirty white of the mould in all directions. Mr. Selvern, said the captain at last, looking at him, don't get fancy in things. Get old to your blooming self. You know you hurt nothing. I'm quite sure I heard something, sir, said the second mate. I seemed to hear... He broke off sharply and appeared to listen to. with an almost painful intensity. What did it sound like? I asked.

It's all right, Doctor, said Captain Gannington, laughing gently. You can give him a tonic when we get back. I'm going to shift this stuff. He drew back and kicked for a second time at the ugly mass which he'd taken to hide the companion way. The result of his kick was startling, for the whole thing wobbled sloppily, like a mound of unhealthy-looking jelly.

He drew his foot out of it quickly, took a step backward, staring and holding his lamp towards it. By gum, he said, and it was plain that he was generally startled. The blessed thing's gone soft. The man had run back several steps from the suddenly flaccid mound and looking horribly frightened. Though of what? I'm sure he had not the least idea. The second mate stood where he was and stared. for my part I know I had a most hideous uneasiness upon me the captain continued to hold his light towards the wobbling mound and stare

it's gone all squashy through he said there's no skull there's no bally woodwork inside that lot oh what a rum smell you walk round to the after side of the strange mound to see whether there might be some signs of an opening into the hull at the back of the great heap of mold stuff. And then, Listen, said the second mate again, in the strangest sort of voice. Captain Gallington straightened himself upright, and there succeeded a pause with the most intense quietness, in which there was not even the hum of talk from the men alongside in the boat. We all heard it, a kind of dull, soft,

thud, thud, thud, thud, somewhere in the hull under us, yet so vague as to make me half doubtful I'd heard it, only that the others did so too. Captain Gallington turned suddenly to where the man stood. Tell him, he began. But the fellow cried out something and pointed. There had come a strange intensity into his somewhat unemotional face,

so the captain's glance followed his action instantly. I stared also, as she may think. It was the great mound at which the man was pointing, and I saw what he meant. From the two gables made in the mould-like stuff by Captain Gallington's boots, the purple fluid was jetting out in a queerly regular fashion, almost as if it were being forced out by a pump. My word, but I stared,

and even as I stared a larger jet squirted out and splashed as far as the man, spattering his boots and trouser legs. The fellow had been pretty nervous before, in a stolid, ignorant sort of way, and his funk had been growing steadily, but at this he simply led out a yell and turned about to run. He paused an instant, as if a sudden fear of the darkness that held the decks between him and the boat, had taken him. He snatched at the second mate's lap.

Tore it out of his hand and plunged heavily away over the vile stretch of mould. Mr. Selvin, the second mate, said not a word. He was just staring, staring at the strange-smelling twin streams of dull purple that were jetting out from the wobbling mound. Captain Gallington, however, roared an order to the man to come back. But the man plunged on and on across the mould, his feet seeming to be clogged by the stuff. as if it had suddenly grown soft. He zigzagged as he ran, the lantern swaying in wild circles

as he wrenched his feet free with a constant plop, plop. And I could hear his frightened gasps even from where I stood. "'I'll come back with that lamp!' roared the captain again, but a man still took no notice. And Captain Gallington was silent an instant, his lips working in a queer in articulate fashion, as if he was stunned momentarily by the very violence of his anger at the man's insubordination. And in the silence I heard the sounds again.

Thund. Thund. Thud. Thud. Quite distinctly now. Beating, it seemed suddenly to me, right down under my feet, but deep. I stared down at the mould on which I was standing,

with a quick, disgusting sense of the terrible all about me, Then I looked at the captain and tried to say something without appearing frightened. I saw that he had turned again to the mould, and all the anger had gone out of his face. He held out his lamp towards the mound and was listening. There was another moment of absolute silence. At least I knew that I was not conscious of any sound at all in the world, except for that extraordinary thud. thud, thud, thud, down somewhere in the huge bulk under us. The captain shifted his feet with a sudden nervous movement, and as he lifted them, the mould went plop, plop.

He looked quickly at me, trying to smile as if he were not thinking anything very much about it. What do you make of it, doctor? he said. I am, I think. I began. but the second mate interrupted with a single word. His voice pitched a little high in a tone that made us both stare instantly at him. Look, he said and pointed at the mound. The thing was all of a slow quiver.

A strange ripple ran outward from it, along the deck, like you'd see a ripple run inshore out of a calm sea. It reached a mound a little foreside of us, which I'd supposed to be the cabin skylight. And in a moment the second mound sank nearly level with the surrounding decks, quivering flopperly in a most extraordinary fashion. A sudden quick tremor took the mould right under the second mate,

and he gave out a hoarse little cry and held his arms out on each side of him to keep his balance. The tremor in the mould spread, and Captain Gallington swayed and spread out his feet with a sudden curse of fright. The second mate jumped across to him and caught him by the wrist. "'The boat, sir,' he said, saying the very thing that I'd lack the pluck to say, "'for God's sake!'

But he never finished, for a tremendous hoarse scream cut off his words. They hove themselves round and looked. I could see without turning. The man who'd run from us was standing in the waist of the ship. about a fathom from the starboard bulwarks. He was swaying from side to side and screaming in a dreadful fashion. He appeared to be trying to lift his feet, and the light from his swaying lantern showed an almost incredible sight.

All about him, the mould was in active movement. His feet had sunk out of sight. The stuff appeared to be lapping at his legs, and abruptly his bare flesh showed. The hideous stuff had rent his trouser leg away as if it were paper. He gave out a simply sickening scream, and, with a vast effort, wrenched one leg free. It was partly destroyed. The next instant, he pitched face downward,

and the stuff heaped itself upon him, as if it were actually alive, with a dreadful, severe life. It was simply infernal. the man had gone from sight. Where he had fallen was now a writhing, elongated mound, in constant and horrible increase, as the mould appeared to move towards it in strange ripples from all sides. Captain Gallington and the second mate were stone silent, in amazed and incredulous horror, but I had begun to reach towards a grotesque and terrific conclusion, both helped and hindered by my professional training. From the many many of the many of the

in the boat alongside, there was loud shouting, and I saw two of their faces appear suddenly above the rail. They showed clearly a moment in the light from the lamp which the man had snatched from Mr. Salvin, for, strangely enough, this lamp was standing upright and unharmed on the deck, a little way foresight of that dreadful, elongated, growing mound that still swayed and writhed with an incredible horror. The lamp rose and fell on the passing ripples of the mould, just for all the world, as you will see a boat rise and fall on little swells. It's of some interest to me now, psychologically, to remember how that rising and falling lantern brought home to me

more than anything the incomprehensible, dreadful strangeness of it all. The men's faces disappeared with sudden yells, as if they'd slipped or been suddenly hurt, and there was a fresh uproar of shouting from the boat. the men were calling to us to come away to come away in the same instant i felt my left boot drawn suddenly and forcibly downward with a horrible painful grip i wrenched it free with a yell of angry fear forward of us i saw the vile surface was all a move and abruptly i found myself shouting in a queer frightened voice the boat captain the boat captain Captain Gallington stared round at me, over his right shoulder in a peculiar dull way that told me he was utterly dazed with bewilderment and the incomprehensableness of it all. I took a quick, clogged, nervous step towards him, and gripped his arm and shook it fiercely. The boat! I shouted at him. The boat, for God's sake, tell the men to bring the boat aft.

then the mound must have drawn his feet down for abruptly he bellowed fiercely with terror his momentary apathy giving place to furious energy his thick set vastly muscular body doubled and writhed with his enormous effort and he struck out madly dropping the lantern he tore his feet free something ripping as he did so the reality and necessity of the situation had come upon him brutishly real, and he was roaring to the men in the boat. Bring the boat aft. Bring her aft! Bring her aft! The second mate and I were shouting the same thing, madly. For God's sake, be smart, lads, roared the captain, and stooped quickly for his lamp, which still burned. His feet were gripped again, and he hoveed them out, blaspheming breathlessly and leaping a yard high with his effort. then he made a run for the side, wrenching his feet free at each step.

In the same instant, the second mate cried out something and grabbed at the captain. "'It's got a hold of my feet! It's got a hold of my feet!' he screamed. His feet had disappeared up to his boot-tops, and Captain Gannington called him round the waist with his powerful left arm, gave a mighty heave, and the next instant had him free. But both his boot soles had gone. For my part, I jumped madly from foot to foot to avoid the plucking of the mould, and suddenly I made a run for the ship's side. But before I could get there, a queer gape came in the mould between us and the side, at least a couple of feet wide, and how deep I don't know.

It closed up in an instant, and all the mould where the cape had been, vent into a sort of flurry of horrible ripplings, so that I ran back from it. For I did not dare to put my foot upon it. When the captain was shouting at me, "'Aft, doctor, after, doctor, this way, doctor, run!' I saw then that he'd pass me and was up on the after-raised portion of the poop. He'd had the second mate thrown like a sack,

all loose and quiet over his left shoulder, for Mr. Selvin had fainted, and his long legs flopped limp and helpless against the captain's massive knees as he ran. I saw with a queer, unconscious noting of minor details how the torn soles of the second mate's boots flapped and jigged as the captain staggered aft. Boat-eye! Boat-eye! Bo-eye! shouted the captain, and then I was beside him, shouting also.

The men were answering with the loud yells of encouragement, and it was plain they were working desperately to force the boat off through the thick scum about the ship. We reached the ancient, mold hid tough rail and slewed about breathlessly in the half-darkness to see what was happening. Captain Gannington had left his lantern by the big mound when he picked up the second mate, and as we stood, gasping, he discovered suddenly that all the mould between us and the light was full of movement. Yet the part on which we stood, for about six or eight feet forward of us, was still firm.

Every couple of seconds we shouted to the men to hasten, and they came to the same. kept on calling to us that they would be with us in an instant. And all the time we watched the deck of that dreadful hulk, feeling, for my part, literally sick with mad suspense, and ready to jump overboard into that filthy scum all about us. Down somewhere in the huge bulk of the ship, there was all the time that extraordinary dull, ponderous thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, growing ever louder.

I seemed to feel the whole hull of the derelict, beginning to quiver and thrill with each dull beat. And to me, with the grotesque and hideous suspicion of what made that noise, it was at once the most dreadful and incredible sound I'd ever heard. As we waited desperately for the boat, I scanned incessantly so much of the grey-white bulk as the lamp showed. The whole of the decks seemed to be in strange movement. forward of the lamp I could see indistinctly the moundings of the mould swaying and nodding hideously beyond the circle of the brightest rays. Nearer, and in full glow of the lamp, the mound which should have indicated the skylight was swelling steadily. There were ugly purple vanings on it, and as it swelled. It seemed to me that the vanings and motlings on it were becoming plainer, rising as though embossed upon it.

like you'll see the veins stand out on the body of a powerful full-blooded horse. It was most extraordinary. The mound that we'd supposed to cover the companionway had sunk flat with the surrounding mould, and I could not see that it jetted out any more of the purplish fluid. A quaking movement of the mound began a way forward of the lamp and came flurrying a way off towards us, and at the sight of that I climbed up on the spongy-fe-fe-rail, and yearled afresh for the boat.

The men answered with a shout, which told me they were nearer, but the beastly scum was so thick that it was evidently a fight to move the boat at all. Beside me, Captain Gannington was shaking the second mate furiously, and the man stirred and began to moan. The captain shook him again. Wake up! Wake up, mister!

He shouted. The second mate staggered out of the captain's arms and clapped suddenly, shrieking. My feet! Oh, God, my feet! The captain and I lugged him off the mound and got him into a sitting position upon the taffrail, where he kept up a continual moaning.

Bold him, doctor, said the captain, and whilst I did so, he ran forward a few yards and peered down over the starboard quarter-rail. Oh, for God's sake, be smart, lads, be smart, he shouted down to the men, and they answered him, breathless, from close at hand yet, still too far away for the boat to be any use to us on the instant.

I was holding the moaning, half-unconscious officer, and staring forward along the poop decks. The flurrying of the mould was coming aft, slowly and noiselessly, and then, suddenly, I saw something closer. Look out, Captain, I shouted, and even as I shouted, the mould near to him gave a sudden, peculiar slobber. I'd seen a ripple stealing towards him through the mould. He gave an enormous, clumsy leap and landed near to us on the sound part of the mould, but

the movement followed him. He turned and faced it, swearing fiercely. All about his feet there came abruptly little gapings which made horrid sucking noises. Come back, Captain! I yelled. Come back, quick! As I shouted, a ripple came at his feet. Lipping at them, and he stamped insanely at it and leaped back, his boot torn half off his foot. He swore madly with pain and anger and jumped swiftly for the taffron.

Come on, doctor, over we go, he called. Then he remembered the filthy scum and hesitated, and roared out desperately to the men to hurry. I stared down also. The second mate, I said. I'll take charge, doctor, said Captain Gannington, and caught hold of Mr. Selvin. As he spoke, I thought I saw something between us, outlined against the scum. I leaned out over the stern and peered. There was something under the port quarter.

There's something down there, Katyn, I called, and pointed in the darkness. He stooped far over and stared. A boat, bagam! A boat! he yelled. and began to wriggle swiftly along the taffrail, dragging the second mate after him. I followed. A boat it is, sure, he exclaimed a few moments later,

and picking out the second mate clear of the rail, he hove him down into the boat, where he fell with a crash into the bottom. Over you go, Doctor, he yelled at me, and poured me bodily off the rail and dropped me after the officer. As he did so, I felt the whole of the ancients. spongy rail give a peculiar, sickening quiver, and begin to wobble. I fell onto the second mate, and the captain came after, almost in the same instant,

but, unfortunately, he landed clear of us onto the forethought, which broke under his weight with a loud crack and splintering of wood. Thank God, I heard him mutter. Thank God, I guess that was a mighty near thing to go into Hades. He struck a mash just as I got to my feet, and between us we got the second mate straightened out on one of the after-four and aft-thwart. We shouted to the men in the boat, telling them where we were, and saw the light of their lantern shining round the starboard counter of the derelict.

They called back to us to tell us they were doing their best, and then, whilst we waited, Captain Gallington struck another match, began to overhaul the boat we dropped into. She was a modern, two-bowed boat. And on the stern there was printed, Cyclone Glasgow. She was in pretty fair condition, and had evidently drifted into the scum and been held by it. Captain Gallington struck several matches and went forward towards the derelict. Suddenly he called to me. I jumped over the thwarts to him.

Looked, doctor, he said, and I saw what he meant, a mass of bones up in the bows of the boat. I stooped over them and looked. There were the bones of at least three people, all mixed together in an extraordinary fashion, and quite clean and dry. I had a sudden thought concerning the bones, but I said nothing, for my thought was vague in some ways, and concerned the grotesque and incredible suggestion that had come to me as to the cause of that ponderous dull thud, thud, thud, thud, that beat on so infernally within the hull.

It was plain to hear even now that we got off the vessel herself. and all the while, you know, I had a sick, horrible mental picture of that frightful, wriggling mound aboard the Hulk. His Captain Gannington struck a final match. I saw something that sickened me, and the captain saw it in the same instant. The match went out, and he fumbled clumsily for another, and struck it. We saw the thing again. We had not been mistaken.

A great lip of grey white was protruding in over the edge of the boat. A great lapid of the mould was coming stealthily towards us, a live mass of the very hull itself. And suddenly Captain Gannington yelled out in so many words, the grotesque and incredible thing I was thinking. She's alive! I had never heard such a sound of comprehension and terror in a man's. voice. The very horrified assurance of it made actual to me the thing that before had only lurked

in my subconscious mind. I knew he was right. I knew that the explanation my reason and my training both repelled and reached towards was the true one. I wonder whether anyone can possibly understand our feelings in that moment, the unmitigated horror of it and the incredulness. As the light of the match burned up fully, I saw that the mass of living matter coming towards us was streaked and veined with purple, the vein standing out, enormously distended. The whole thing quivered continuously to each ponderous thud, thud, thud, of that gargantuan organ that pulsed within the huge great white balk. The flame of the match reached the captain's fingers, and there came to me a little sickly whiff of burned flesh, but he seemed unconscious of any pain. And the flame went out in a brief sizzle, yet at the last moment I'd seen an extraordinary raw look become visible upon the end of that monstrous protruding lapid. It had become dude with a hideous, purplish sweat, and with the darkness there came a sudden, chumption.

carnell like stench. I heard the match-box split in Captain Gallington's hands as he wrenched it open. Then he swore in a queer, frightened voice, for he had come to the end of his matches. He turned clumsily in the darkness

and tumbled over the nearest thwart in his eagerness to get to the stern of the boat, and I, after him, for we knew that thing was coming towards us through the darkness, reaching over that piteous mingled heap of human bones all jumbled together in the boughs. We shouted madly to the men, and for answer, saw the bows of the boat merge dimly into view round the starboard counter of the derelict.

Oh, thank God, I gasped out, but Captain Gannington roared to them to show a light. Yet this they could not do, for the lamp had just been stepped on in their desperate efforts to force the boat round to us. Quick, quick! I shamed. shouted. "'For God's sake, be smart, men!' roared the captain. Both of us faced the darkness under the port counter, out of which we knew but could not see. The thing was coming for us. "'An oar! Smart! Now! Pass me an oar!' shouted the captain, and reached out his hands through the gloom towards the oncoming boat. I saw a figure stand up in the boughs

and holds something out to us across the intervening yards of scum. Captain Gallington swept his hands through the darkness and encountered it. I've got it, let go there, he said in a quick, tense voice. In the same instant the boat we were in was pressed over suddenly to starboard by some tremendous weight. Then I heard the captain shout, "'Duck your head, doctor!' And directly afterwards he swung the heavy 14-foot oar around his head, and struck into the darkness.

It came a sudden squelch, and he struck again, with a savage grunt of fierce energy. At the second blow the boat righted with a slow movement, and directly afterwards, the other boat bumped gently into ours. Captain Gallington dropped the oar,

and, springing across to the second mate, hove him up off the thwart, and pitched him with knee and arms clear in, over the bowels among the men, and they shouted to me to follow, which I did, and he came after me, bringing the awe with him. We carried the second mate aft, and the captain shouted to the men to back the boat a little. Then he got her bows clear of the boat we just left, and so headed out through the scum for the open sea. Where's Tom Harrison?

Gasson of the men, in the midst of his exertions. He happened to be Tom Harrison's particular chum, and Captain Gallington answered him, briefly enough. Dead. Pull. Don't talk. Now, difficult as it had been to force the boat through the scum to our rescue, the difficulty to clear seemed tenfold. After some five minutes pulling, the boat seemed hardly to have moved a fathom, if so much, and quite dreadful fear took me afresh, which one of the panting men put suddenly into words. he's got us he gaffed out same as poor tom it was the man who'd inquired where harrison was shut your mouth and pull roared the captain and saw another few minutes passed abruptly it seemed to me that the dull ponderous thought that thought came more plainly through the dark and i stared intently over the stern I sickened a little, for I could almost swear that the dark mass of the monster was actually nearer,

that it was coming nearer to us through the darkness. Captain Gallington must have had the same thought, after a brief look into the darkness, he jumped forward and began to double bank the stroke-hole. Get forward under the oars, doctor, he said to me rather breathlessly. Get in the bells and see if you can't free the stuff a bit around the bows. I did as he told me, and a minute later I was in the bows of the boat, puddling the scum from side to side and trying to break up the viscid, clinging muck. A heavy, almost animal-like smell rose off of it,

and all the air seemed full of the deadening heavy smell. I shall never find worse to tell anyone on earth the whole horror of it all, the threat that seemed to hang in the very air around us, and but a little astern that incredible thing, coming as I firmly believed nearer, and scum holding us like half-melted glue, the minutes passed in a deadly eternal fashion, and I kept staring back astern into the darkness,

but never ceasing to puddle that filthy scum, striking at it and switching it from side to side until I sweat it. Abruptly, Captain Gannington sang out, "'We're gaining, lads. "'Pool!' "'I felt the boat forge your head perceptibly, "'as they gave way with a renewed hope and energy. "'There was soon no doubt of it,

"'for presently that hideous thud, thud, thud, thud, "'thud, had grown quite dim and vague, "'somewhere astern, "'and I could no longer see the derelict, "'for the night had come down tremendously dark, "'and all the sky was thick, overset with heavy clouds. As we drew nearer and nearer to the edge of the scum,

the boat moved more and more perceptibly, until suddenly we emerged with a clean, sweet, fresh sound into the open sea. Thank God, I said aloud, and drew in the boat-hook, and made my way aft again to where Captain Gannington now sat once more at the tiller. I saw him looking anxiously up at the sky and across to where the lights of our vessel burned,

and again he would seem to listen intently, so that I found myself listening also. What's that, Counten? I said sharply, for it seemed to me that I heard a sound far astern, something between a queer wine and a low whistling. What is that? It's wind, doctor, he said in a low voice.

I wish to God we were aboard. Then to the men, "'Pull, put your axe into it, or you'll never put your teeth through good bread again.' The men obeyed nobly, and we reached the vessel safely, and had the boat safely stowed before the storm came, which it did in a furious white smother out of the west.

I could see it for some minutes beforehand, tearing the sea in the gloom into a wall of phosphorescent foam, and as it came nearer, that peculiar whining, piping sound grew louder and louder until it was like a vast steam-wistle rushing towards us. And when it did come, we got it very heavy indeed, so that the morning showed us nothing but a welter of white seas, with that grim derelict many a score of miles away in the smother,

lost as utterly as our hearts could wish to lose her. When I came to examine the second mate's feet, I found them in a very extraordinary condition. The souls of them had the appearance of having been partly digested. I know of no other word that so exactly describes their condition, and the agony the man suffered must have been dreadful. Now, concluded the doctor, that is what I call a case in point.

If we could know exactly what the old vessel had originally been loaded with and the juxtaposition of the various articles of her car, plus the heat in the time she'd endured, plus one or two other only guessable quantities. We should have solved the chemistry of the life, gentlemen. Not necessarily the origin, mind you, but at least we should have taken a big step on the way.

I've often regretted that, Gail, you know. In a way, that is, in a way. It was a most amazing discovery, but at the same time I had nothing but thankfulness to be rid of it. The most amazing chance. I often think of the way the monster woke out of its torpor. Oh, and that scum. The dead pigs caught in it.

I fancy that was a grim kind of a net, gentleman, and it caught many things. It... The old doctor sighed and nodded. If I could have had a bill of lading, he said, his eyes full of regret. If... It might have told me something to help.

But, anyway, he began to fill his pipe again. I suppose, he ended, looking round at us gravely, I suppose we humans are an ungrateful lot of beggars at the best, but oh, what a chance, what a chance, I hope you enjoy tonight's three tales of terror. We started with the Dullahan. by Daz 1-2-3D. We follow that up with the witch's pet by Iris in the Burning Sage

and we rounded things off with Darylict by William Hope Hodgson. That's it for me for this evening but I'll be back again next week I do so hope you're all going to join me once again. Until the next time very, very sweet dreams and bye-bye.