Death Trance

Twenty-One

I had been guessing, of course, when I suggested to Dug-lass Evelith that he knew what secret was concealed in the wreck of the David Dark; but not guessing too wildly. It was obvious from the books that lined the library shelves around us that he was interested in history and magic, and if he knew so much about the early settlers and the way in which they had conjured up Indian spirits to help them in the wilderness, then the chances that he was acquainted with the sinking of the David Dark were high.

Besides that, if Duglass Evelith didn't know where the wreck was located, or how it had sunk, then nobody would. This monkey-shriveled old man was our only possible hope.

'My wife was killed in a road accident just over a month ago,' I told him, in a quiet voice. 'Recently, she's been visiting me. I mean that her spirit has been visiting me. Her ghost, if you like. And talking to other people in Granitehead who have recently lost their relatives, I've discovered that what I've been experiencing is not exactly an uncommon phenomenon in this part of the world.'

That's all?' asked old man Evelith.

'Isn't it enough?' Edward demanded.

'There is more,' I said. 'An elderly woman who lived out on West Shore Road was killed two days ago by the spirit of her dead husband, and I understand that several other people have died in very gruesome and peculiar ways. It seems as if the ghosts are not benign; but are culling the living, in order to join them in the region of the dead.'

Duglass Evelith raised a white wiry eyebrow. 'The region of the dead?' he inquired. 'Who mentioned the region of the dead?'

'My wife,' I said. 'As a matter of fact, I saw her again last night. I saw lots of spirits last night, every dead damned soul in Waterside Cemetery.'

Edward looked across at me, and gave me a nod to show that he understood now why my behaviour had been so fractured this morning. Duglass Evelith sat back in his armchair, his elbows perched on the arms, his mittened hands hanging like the talons of a dead rook. Forrest cleared his throat, and shifted his backside on the leather-covered sofa so that it squeaked rudely.

'You're telling me the truth,' said Duglass Evelith, after a while.

'Of course we're telling you the truth,' Forrest protested. 'You don't think we would have driven all the way out here and given you a valuable antique writing-case for nothing, do you?'

'I am regarded by the local populace with grave suspicion,' said Duglass Evelith. 'I am thought to be a sorcerer, or a madman, or an incarnation of Satan. That is why the gates are locked, and that is why I keep my guard-dogs, and that is why I treat any attempted incursion into my house with the deepest caution. The last time I allowed a party of gentlemen to come into my house, four years ago, they attempted to beat me up and burn my library. It was only because Quamus was so prompt in intervening that my library and I both survived.'

'How do you know we're telling you the truth?' I asked him.

'Well, there are indications. What you say about Granitehead is quite correct; and for some years now I have associated what has been happening there with the wreck of the David Dark. But, certainly, the visitations you describe are far more vivid and far more threatening than they, have ever been before. You also mentioned "the region of the dead", and unless you have been undertaking some extremely detailed research in order to perpetrate an elaborate and apparently pointless hoax, you would not have known that "the region of the dead" is exactly the phrase which is appropriate to the history of the David Dark.'

Edward said, 'Have you any idea why the ghosts should be more threatening now than they ever have been before?'

Duglass Evelith thoughtfully rubbed his white-stubbled chin. 'There are many possible explanations. One really won't be able to tell until the contents of the David Dark’s hold are raised and inspected. But you are right: the influence which is affecting the dead of Granitehead has been emanating from the large copper vessel which on that voyage was the David Dark’s only cargo. Perhaps that vessel has at last corroded to the point where the influence has been able to escape.'

'What influence?' asked Forrest.

Old man Evelith raised himself out of his chair, and beckoned us. 'What happened at the time was known only to a few; and all of those few were sworn to utter secrecy. After it was all over, as you know, Esau Hasket ordered that every mention of the David Dark should be excised from every company logbook, every news-sheet, every poster. The only way that we know today of the David Dark’s existence is through shipping records that were kept in Boston and also in Mexico City. There are several drawings and mezzotints of the ship, although all of them appear to be copies of one particular sketch that was made of her in 1689. I believe I sold a rather inferior watercolour of her not too long ago; again, a copy of the one known rendition.'

'I bought that watercolour myself, at Endicott's,' I put in.

'You did? Ah, well, that's fortunate. How much did you pay for it?'

'Fifty dollars.'

'Wasn't worth five. It probably wasn't even contemporary.'

'So much for your professional judgement,' Forrest ribbed me, and I gave him a look of mock annoyance.

Duglass Evelith shuffled along one of the shelves, and picked out a thin, black-bound book, which he laid flat on the library table. This isn't an original,' he said. The original was probably lost or burned years ago. But somebody had the foresight to copy the original exactly, complete with drawings, and so here it is. This copy was made in 1825, but we don't know who made it, or why. My great-grandfather Joseph Evelith bought it from a widow out at Dean's Corners, and there's a piece of paper inside it in his own handwriting saying "This explains at last; I have told Sewall." Here, here it is. The piece of paper itself. See the date on it? Eighteen thirty-one.'

'Does it say who wrote the original?' asked Edward.

'Oh, yes. This was the private diary of Major Nathaniel Saltonstall, of Haverhill, who was one of the presiding judges at the Salem Witch Trials. You may remember that it was Judge Saltonstall who first began to have doubts about the testimony at the trials, and resigned rather than continue to sit. In fact, he was so mortified and angered by the trials that he undertook his own investigation into the "Great Delusion" as the witch-hunt came to be known; and this diary of his contains the only full and reasonably accurate account of what went on.'

Duglass Evelith turned the diary's pages, and ran his chalky finger-nails along the sloping lines of 19th-century writing. 'Saltonstall had only settled in Salem during the winter of 1691. Before that, he had lived with his wife and family in Acushnet, New Bedford, and so he knew nothing of the events which had preceded the Salem witch-scare.'

While we listened, Duglass Evelith read through the diary's account of the Salem Witch Trials. The 'Great Delusion', as Judge Saltonstall constantly referred to it, was said in most history books to have begun in 1689, when a trader called Samuel Parris arrived in Salem Village with the intention of changing his livelihood to that of holy minister. On November 19, 1689, he was installed as Salem's first pastor.

With him, Parris had brought two slaves from the West Indies, a man called John Indian and his wife Tituba. Both slaves were adept at fortune-telling, card-tricks, and palmistry, and they liked to amuse the local children by telling them tales of witchcraft. The children, however, either began to pretend that they were possessed by witches, or else were gripped by a spasm of childish hysteria. Whatever it was, they would throw terrible fits and spasms, and thrash around on the floor and scream. Dr Griggs, the local physician, examined the 'afflicted' children and pronounced at once that they were bewitched.

Horrified, the Rev. Parris invited neighbouring ministers to come to his house for a day of fasting and prayer, and to witness the tortures of the 'afflicted' children. When they saw the children writhing and shrieking, the ministers confirmed the doctor's diagnosis: the children were unquestionably possessed.

Now the question was: who had bewitched them? And under intensive questioning, the children said 'Good', 'Osburn', and Tituba.'

So it was that on March 1, in front of John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, the two leading magistrates in Salem, Sarah Good, Sarah Osburn, and Tituba were all accused of witchcraft. Sarah Good, an unfortunate woman with very few friends, earnestly denied everything; but the children shrieked and writhed when they saw her, and she was promptly declared guilty. Sarah Osburn was dragged into court despite being bedridden, and the children threw themselves into spasms when she appeared, so that none of her denials were believed. Tituba, frightened and superstitious, admitted that she had agreed to serve Satan, and that she and the other accused women had all ridden through the air on a stick. This evidence was enough: all three women were chained and manacled and sent to jail.

The 'afflicted' children continued their accusations. Eighty-two-year-old George Jacobs, a white-haired dignified old man, answered charges that he was a wizard by saying, 'You tax me for a wizard; you may as well tax me for a buzzard. I have done no harm.' He was found guilty, and imprisoned.

The trials went on during the summer of 1692, becoming increasingly heated and hysterical. The whole of Salem Village seemed to be possessed by 'witch fever', and over and over again, when the villagers looked back on that summer in future years, they referred to it as 'a dream' or 'a nightmare', as if they had somehow been asleep.

Thirteen women and six men were hanged on Gallows Hill — the first, Bridget Bishop, on June 10; the last, Mary Parker, on September 22. In fact on September 22, eight witches and wizards were hung and as they swung in the air, the Rev. Mr. Noyes remarked, 'What a sad thing it is to see eight firebrands from hell hanging there.'

Two days earlier, however, an execution had taken place which was so horrible that it had begun to awaken the people of Salem from their 'Great Delusion'. Old Giles Corey, of Salem Farm, had denounced the work of the 'afflicted' children, and had been brought to stand trial; but he had refused to speak. Three times he had been brought before the judge and three times he had remained dumb. He had been taken to an open field between Brown Street and Howard Street burial ground, stripped naked, and made to lie flat, while heavy weights were placed on to his body. As more weights were added, Giles Corey's tongue was squeezed out of his mouth, and the sheriff with his cane had pushed it back in again. Corey was the first New-Englander to suffer the old English punishment of pressing to death.

Judge Saltonstall had written, 'The storme now seem'd to have spent itselfe, and the people awaken'd. There is in Historie no record of so sudden, so rapid, so complete a revulsione of feeling.' There were no more executions, and in May of the following year, all those accused and awaiting trial were released.

But Judge Saltonstall's account did not end here. He said that 'I remain'd curious as to how the Delusion had begunne; and why it should have died so quicklie. Had the children trulie been afflicted, or had they beene nothing more than eville pranksters? I sette about discoveringe for myself the truthe of these sorry events; and particularlie with the assistance of Micah Burrough, who had work'd for Esau Hasket as a Clerke, I piec'd together an Account as frightening as it is remarkable; yette for whose accuracie and truthe I can solemnlie Vouchsafe.'

Duglass Evelith rang a small silver bell, and his Indian manservant Quamus appeared. Quamus regarded us impassively, but from what Evelith had told us, he was probably quite capable of throwing all three of us out of there, or tearing us limb from limb. Evelith said, 'Quamus, these gentlemen are to be our guests for luncheon. The cold pie will do. And bring up a bottle of the Pouilly Fume; no, two bottles; and put them on ice.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Oh, and Quamus — '

'Yes, sir?'

'These gentlemen are here to discuss the David Dark. Their visit may prove to be of considerable importance to us.'

'Yes, sir. I understand, sir.'

Quamus left us, and old man Evelith dragged over one of the upright chairs, and sat himself down. 'Please, sit,' he asked us. 'The rest of Judge Saltonstall's diary is fascinating, but disorganized, and it would better if I told you the story of what happened myself. You are welcome to make copies of any pages that particularly interest you; but if you tried to work out for yourselves what Judge Saltonstall was actually saying, I'm afraid that it would take you some considerable time, as it did me.'

We all drew up chairs, and Duglass Evelith leaned on the table before us, looking from one to the other as he spoke. I shall never forget that hour in the Evelith library, listening to the secret history of the David Dark. I felt as if I was closed off from the real world altogether, as if I was back in the 17th century, when witches and demons and goblins were all considered to be credible realities. Outside, the rain began to die away, and a kind of strangled sunlight came through the stained-glass window and illuminated our discussions in a radiance that looked as old as the story itself.

'What occurred in Salem in the summer of 1692 began not with Mr Parris, as the modern history-books suggest, but much earlier, with David Ittai Dark, who was a fire-and-brimstone preacher who lived first at New Dunwich, and then nearer Salem Village at Mill Pond.

'By all accounts, David Dark was a tall, saturnine man, with long black hair which reached down to his shoulders. He was so convinced that every man, woman and child had to live a life completely beyond reproach before they would even be considered for a place in heaven that he taught his congregation to prepare themselves for the almost certain prospect of spending all eternity in hell. In March of 1682, David Dark announced to his flock that in a field outside of Dean's Corners he had actually met with Satan, and that Satan had given him a scroll on which were scorched the names of all those Salem Villagers who were already condemned to burn. This, of course, had a remarkable effect on the behaviour of all those listed, and Judge Saltonstall records that 1682 and 1683 were "highly moral years" in Salem and its surrounding communities.'

'Do you think he had met with Satan? Or anything similar?' asked Edward.

'Judge Saltonstall investigated this claim,' said Duglass Evelith. 'All that he could discover was that David Dark had become friends during the previous year with some Narragansett Indians, and one Indian in particular who was claimed by his tribe to be the greatest worker of magical wonders who had ever lived. The judge wasn't a man to leap to conclusions; he liked his evidence to be cut and dried. But he did cautiously express the opinion that it was conceivable that David Dark and this Indian magician could have summoned up between them one of the ancient and evil Indian deities, and that Dark could have taken this manifestation to be Satan, or one of his cohorts.'

The dark-haired girl called Enid came into the library with a crystal decanter on her silver tray, and asked us if we would care for another glass of sherry. Personally, I was dying for a large whisky, but I took the sherry and was grateful for it.

Duglass Evelith said, 'Very little was heard about David Dark between 1683 and 1689. Apparently he gave up preaching for several years, and devoted himself to study. Quite what he was studying, nobody could ever discover, but Judge Saltonstall says that at night there were lights in the sky above his cottage; and that the local people wouldn't go near the woods where he lived because they had heard the howling of strange beasts.

'In 1689, however, David Dark reappeared and began to preach once more; often in church in the centre of Salem. After a particularly fiery sermon, he was approached by the merchant Esau Hasket, who was much impressed with what Dark had been saying, and Hasket, who was something of a religious zealot himself, suggested that between them they should begin a campaign to improve the morals and the minds of everyone in Salem.

This is where the testimony of Micah Burrough comes into its own. Micah Burrough had worked for Esau Hasket for fifteen years, and was one of his most trusted employees. That was why, when David Dark suggested to Hasket that he should send a ship to Mexico on a very special errand, Micah Burrough was there to record what was said.'

'Mexico?' asked Edward. 'Where does Mexico come into it?'

'Mexico is crucial and central to the whole story of the David Dark,' said Duglass Evelith. 'For whatever spirits or creatures David Dark had been raising at his cottage at Mill Pond, all of them were subservient to the grimmest of demons on the entire American continent. I am speaking of the living skeleton who was worshipped by the Aztecs on the island of Tenochtitlan, which later became Mexico City. How David Dark came to know of this demon, Judge Saltonstall does not say; but it is quite likely that the Narragansett wonder-worker told him about it. In any case, David Dark persuaded Esau Hasket that he should mount an expedition to Mexico City, discover the remains of this demon, and bring it back to Salem in order to frighten and discipline the local people. That, after all, was how the Aztecs had used it — as a way of encouraging any religious back-sliders to renew their worship of Huitzilopochtli and Quetzalcoatl.'

'Surely the Spanish were in control of Mexico City in those days,' said Forrest. 'When did Cortes overthrow the Aztecs? Fifteen-twenty?'

'Fifteen-nineteen,' Duglass Evelith corrected him. 'But remember that the Aztecs were a remarkably organized people. Long before Cortes had reached the island of Tenochtitlan, the living skeleton had been carried away from the city on one of the causeways which joined it to the mainland, and secreted on the slopes of the volcano of Ixtacihuatl. Again, it was impossible for Judge Saltonstall to establish how David Dark had discovered this, but Dark had travelled away from Salem several times during the six years between 1683 and 1689, and it is quite conceivable that he went to Mexico. He may well have contacted some of the surviving Aztec magicians whose hereditary task it was to guard the demon from the Spanish invaders, and made an arrangement with them for the demon to be shipped secretly out of Mexico to Massachusetts. On the other hand, rather than bothering to make an arrangement with them, he may have had them killed. Judge Saltonstall thinks so.'

'So Esau Hasket sent a ship to bring this demon back to Salem?' asked Edward.

That's exactly what happened. The ship was called the Arabella, and it was generally considered to be one of the finest vessels in Salem. David Dark went on the voyage as commander, and the ship was captained by Charles Fisk, the older brother of Thomas Fisk, who was later to be a juror at the witch-trials.

The Arabella was away for nearly a year, and when she returned the crew refused to speak about their expedition, and even David Dark himself seemed like a different man. They had aged, every one of them, Judge Saltonstall reported; and out of a crew of 70 men, 31 of them were dead within the year, either of disease, or of heart failure, or of brainstorms. The Arabella's mysterious cargo was unloaded by six men who had been specially hired from Boston to do the work, and paid three times the going rate. Then it was carried by wagon to David Dark’s cottage at Mill Pond.

'At first, nothing happened. David Dark visited Esau Hasket at his offices several times, and told him that the demon appeared to be comatose, or dead. Perhaps the Aztec magicians had lied to him, and the demon was no demon at all, but simply the skeleton of an unusually tall man. Hasket, who to begin with had been so enthusiastic that he had re-christened the Arabella the David Dark, started to have doubts about the expedition, and about the money he had spent on sending the Arabella and her crew to Mexico for a whole year, and most of all he began to have doubts about the sanity of David Dark. Micah Burrough overheard a conversation that Hasket had with Dr Griggs about the possibility of Dark being "possess'd, or mad".

'In the spring of 1691, however, extraordinary events began to occur around Salem. Several people began to report that they had seen or heard their deceased relatives, walking around the streets of the village at the dead of night. One man awoke in his bed to find his dead mother standing beside his bed, and he was so frightened that he jumped out of the skylight, and rolled all the way down the long sloping roof, breaking his ankle, but fortunately doing no other damage.'

I leaned forward across the table. 'How were these dead people described? Were they like ghosts? Or flickering lights?'

Duglass Evelith thumbed through the book, and then turned it around so that I could see what was written there.

'On the morning of Aprille 2nd, 1691, Wm Sayer had visited the Rev. Noyes and tolde him of his great alarm in having seen in broade daylight his deceas'd brother Henry on St Peter Street; and how Henry had approach'd him and begg'd him to come with him or else Henry though dead would find no rest. Wm Sayer had runne off quicklie, greatly affrighted, and had tolde the Rev. Noyes that his brother had appear'd to him as much in the fleshe as if he had still been extant.'

I passed the book to Edward. 'You see how powerful the influence was then? It could summon the dead by daylight, and they looked as solid as if they were still alive.'

That wasn't all,' said Duglass Evelith. The dead began to prey on the living; and although the official history books record that there was a summer epidemic of dipth-eria in Salem in 1691, the truth of the matter was that the people of the village were being snatched from their beds by the corpses of their dead relatives and killed in all sorts of extraordinary and ritualistic ways. The body of Nehemiah Putnam was found butchered like a pig's, and somehow spreadeagled to the gable at the end of his house, out of reach of windows or ladders. John Eastey was discovered impaled on the flagstaff which used to stand in the village square, although he would have had to have been lifted 70 feet in the air to drive him down on to it. Of course, the community began to panic, although David Dark now made his most dramatic re-appearance and told them that they had offended the Lord, and that this was their punishment.

'Esau Hasket, however, began to feel that enough was enough. His own sister Audrey had appeared in his garden at night, and he was terrified that he was going to be taken, too. He ordered Dark to destroy the demon; otherwise he would expose what had been going on, and Dark would probably find himself torn to pieces by angry Salemites.

'Dark, however, was unable to control the power that he had brought back from Tenochtitldn; and when he attempted to break the demon to pieces with an axe, he was immediately killed. An eye-witness, an illiterate field-worker, said that she saw him explode in a cloud of blood and entrails.

'After Dark's death, there was chaos in Salem for a while. Judge Saltonstall said that there was "night at noontime" and that many people were buried at sea for fear they would rise from their graves and slaughter the friends and relatives who had survived them. In the fall of 1691, however, the chaos died away as quickly as it had broken out, and for the rest of the year there was peace in Salem Village.

'What had happened, as Judge Saltonstall later discovered, was that the Narragansett wonder-worker who had originally taught David Dark how to summon evil spirits had visited David Dark’s cottage and had come across the demon from Mexico. Although he had been unable to destroy it, he had bound it with enough powerful Indian ritual to suppress its malevolence. Apparently he hoped to use it to further his own influence within his tribe, and over other Indian magicians. He didn't realize what havoc it had been causing amongst the villagers of Salem.

'But, shackles are only as strong as their weakest link, and by the spring of the following year, it seems that the demon had worked out ways in which it could break the ritual bonds that the Narragansett had imposed on it. There was some kind of struggle between the Indian and the demon, a struggle in which the demon was temporarily weakened but in which the Indian was severely crippled. The demon then sought to re-establish its grip on the community of Salem by enticing to its lair three young girls who were out walking near Mill Pond: Anne Putnam, Mercy Lewis, and Mary Walcot.

'The demon must have slaughtered them all, although Judge Saltonstall could never find out how. Their bones were later found in a shallow grave in the woods near David Dark’s former home. But their ghosts, if you like, returned to Salem Village and began to throw fits, and scream, and writhe around as if possessed. Because of this 19 good people were accused of witchcraft, and hung; and Giles Corey was pressed to death. Twenty souls were claimed by the demon in just a few short weeks; a feast.'

'But why did the hysteria stop so suddenly?' asked Edward.

Duglass Evelith finished his sherry, and then twisted the glass around between his fingers as if he were trying to decide whether he ought to have another one or not.

'It stopped because Esau Hasket saw two of the girls, Mercy Lewis and Mary Walcot, walking through Salem Village in the very early hours of the morning. He had been up most of the night, supervising the on-loading of a very valuable cargo of indigo. He stopped them, when he saw them, and asked them why they were up so late. But all they did, according to Judge Saltonstall, was "to glare at him with eyes that glowed blue, and to snarl at him like wolverines, frightening him away." Hasket now suspected that David Dark’s demon was active again, and he made plans to visit the cottage, along with a pastor friend of his, to see what was happening there.

'What they saw in Dark's cottage frightened them beyond all measure. Here, let me read from Saltonstal’s diary itself;

"Regardless of the houre, which was onlie three and some minutes past, the skies began to grow dark as Mr Esau Hasket and the Rev. Roger Cornwall approached the erstwhile residence of David Dark. According to Micah Burrough, to whom Mr Hasket later related this description, the Rev. Cornwall stopped at the stile which bounded Dark's propertie, and declined for some time to precede any further, feigning a severe sicknesse. Mr Hasket however persuaded him to continue, and eventualie the two men reached the cottage. The windows were obscured in some fashion, and therefore Mr Hasket elected to force an entrie, which he achieved with an axe. What met their eyes inside the cottage Mr Hasket refused to relate in anything but the most circum-stantialle manner, but Micah Burrough concluded that the stench of putrefaction within the building was such that bothe Mr Hasket and the Rev. Cornwall were sicke unto vomiting; and that having recovered they saw in the darknesse a huge and terrifying Skeleton, "bone-white," said Mr Hasket, "and in alle natural proportions, except that it was many times the size of a human, & alive." The Skeleton's ribs were hung like a gamekeeper's gibbet with the intestines of hogs, chickens, and goats, and the skulles of animals formed caps for each of its bonie fingers. Worst of all was a copper basin which rested on the floor beside it, a basin heaped with darke and bloodie things. Even as Mr Hasket and the Rev. Cornwall watched in sicknesse & in feare, the Skeleton plunged one hand into the basin, and lifted uppe some of the grusome contents of the basin for them to see; and it was then that Mr Hasket understoode that he was looking at a basin of human hearts, the hearts of every man and woman who had beene hung during the Great Delusion." '

Duglass Evelith turned over the last few pages of the black notebook. 'Esau Hasket now fully realized what devilry he had unleashed on Salem, and he was shrewd enough to understand that the witch-hunts were only the beginning. The demon presumably took its strength from slaughtered animals and from human hearts, and used the dead whose hearts it had already taken to bring it more. The hysteria of the Great Delusion was increasing; and Hasket foresaw a time when the skies would be permanently dark, and the walking dead would overwhelm the living.'

That's why the cemetery beside the Granitehead shoreline used to be called "The Walking Place," ' I put in.

That's correct,' said Duglass Evelith. 'But the curse on Granitehead came later, after Esau Hasket had determined that he would rid Salem of the demon once and for all.'

'How did he do that?' asked Edward. 'Surely the demon was powerful enough to prevent anyone from exorcizing it.'

'Hasket went to the Narragansett wonder-worker, and bribed him with promises of huge sums of money if he would help him to contain the demon for long enough to ship it out of Salem and make sure that it never returned. The wonder-worker was extremely reluctant to help at first, because the demon had severely injured him in their last confrontation; but eventually Hasket upped the price to nearly 1,000 in gold, which the wonderworker found irresistible. Now the wonder-worker knew one thing: and that was that the demon was susceptible to intense cold. It was the lord of the region of the dead, the god of hellfire, with uncontested dominion over the furnaces and grates of everlasting torture. It is said, in fact, that bodies lose their heat so quickly when they die because this particular demon extracts it for its own nourishment; and that all the walking dead could be detected by their utter coldness. Every last ounce of thermal energy had been drained from every last cell, in order to keep the lord of the region of the dead both thriving and powerful.

The Narragansett wonder-worker therefore suggested to Esau Hasket that the demon could be paralyzed inside Dark's old cottage by the introduction through the doors and windows of twenty or thirty cartloads of ice; that the demon could then be contained in a large insulated vessel also packed with ice; and sailed as quickly as possible northwards to Baffin Bay, and dropped into the ocean. Hasket could see no other way out, so he agreed.

The plan was carried out in late October, after the David Dark had been hurriedly prepared to carry this one malevolent item of cargo. Despite the bloody loss of two horses as they approached the cottage, and the blinding of three men, the wonder-worker was able to contest the demon with his spells just long enough for the doors and windows to be smashed down with picks and axes, and for the ice to be tipped into the room where the demon presided. At the dead of night, the gigantic skeleton was carried out of the cottage, and laid inside the specially-made copper vessel which Hasket had ordered to be prepared. More ice was packed inside, ice which could constantly be replenished through a special trap, and then the copper lid was welded closed. Micah Burrough was actually there that night: just like anybody else whom Hasket felt he could trust. The capturing of the demon had taken 30 good men and many hundreds of pounds. Within the hour, the copper vessel had secretly been loaded aboard the David Dark, and the ship's captain had announced that he was ready to sail.

'As they were rowed away from Salem wharf, however, the adverse wind began to rise sharply, and even within the harbour the sea began to blow rough. The captain signaled back to the shore that he would rather return to his anchorage, and wait until the storm had died down before he attempted to sail; but Hasket was terrified that the demon would escape from the ship if it had to be kept in harbour overnight, and he ordered the David Dark to sail at all costs.

'Well, you know the rest. The David Dark was rowed out beyond Granitehead Neck; and then she put up the barest minimum of sail with the intention of sailing as far as possible in a south-easterly direction, in the hope that when the storm died down she would then be able to tack northwards past Nova Scotia and head for Newfoundland and the Labrador Basin. But — whether it was entirely the force of the storm, or whether the will of the demon had anything to do with it — the ship was driven back into Salem Sound, and sunk somewhere off the west shore of the Granitehead Peninsula.'

'Were there any witnesses to the sinking?' I asked. 'Did anybody see it from the shore?'

'No,' said Duglass Evelith, closing the book and resting his mittened hands on it possessively, like a cat with a dead blackbird. 'But there may have been one survivor. And it is that one possible survivor who has supplied me with the only reasonable estimate of the spot where the David Dark might have gone down.'

'Somebody survived the wreck?' asked Edward, incredulously.

Duglass Evelith raised one cautionary finger. 'I said only that it was possible. But three or four years ago, when I was reading the family diary of the Emerys — you know, the Granitehead marine instrument makers — I came across a curious reference to a "wild-eyed man" whom Randolph Emery's great-grandfather had found «half-drowned» on the Granitehead shoreline in the fall of 1692. Now, this particular diary, the Emery diary, was written between 1881 and 1885, so there's no saying how accurate this story might have been. But Randolph Emery's great-grandfather had used his account of finding this "wild-eyed man" in order to instruct his heirs in the technique of establishing your position at sea by the use of nearby landmarks. For the "wild-eyed man" had said that his ship had gone down not more than a quarter of a mile offshore, and that after it had sunk, and he had found himself tossed on the waves on a length of broken spar, he had been able to ascertain his position by the landmarks he had seen through the spray. To his left, to the north, he had seen the beacon on the easternmost headland of Winter Island lined up with the beacon on the easternmost shore of Juniper Point. Ahead of him, as the tidal stream swirled around and took him in towards the shore, he could see a tall tree which sailors used to call The Hapless Virgin, on account of the way its trunk was twisted around like crossed thighs, and its branches were flung out like appealing arms — he could see the top of this tree lined up with the peak of Quaker Hill. Now, the Hapless Virgin, of course, has long since gone, but it's possible to work out almost exactly where it was from the drawings and paintings of Salem Harbour and the Granitehead shoreline which were made at the time. So — it's a very simple matter of basic trigonometry to find out where the David Dark went down.'

'If you knew all this, why didn't you do something about it before?' asked Edward.

'My dear sir, do you take me for a fool?' asked Duglass Evelith. 'I personally had neither the money, the equipment, the youth, nor the inclination to go searching for a wreck that more than likely had rotted away centuries ago. But, at the same time, I didn't want to publish my findings, because of the very arguable nature of the laws regarding historic wrecks. Once I made it known where the David Dark was lying, divers would be swarming down there in their hundreds, vandals and enthusiastic amateurs and souvenir-hunters and plain professional thieves. If there did happen to be anything left worth salvaging, I didn't want to see it pillaged, did I, by bungling tyros and aquatic muggers?'

'I guess not,' smiled Edward. 'They did the same thing in England, didn't they? Pretending to be diving on the Royal George, when in fact they were looking for the Mary Rose. It was the only way they could throw the scrap merchants off the scent. A scrap merchant would have dynamited the Mary Rose to pieces, just for the sake of her bronze cannon.'

Duglass Evelith beckoned to Enid, and asked her in a hoarse whisper, 'Bring me the charts out of the chart-table. There's a good girl.'

'Enid's your grand-daughter?' asked Forrest, as she went off to get the maps.

Duglass Evelith stared at him. 'My grand-daughter?' he asked, as if he were mystified by the question.

Forrest actually blushed. 'Well, you know,' he flustered. 'It was just an assumption.'

Old man Evelith nodded his head, but offered no clarification as to who Enid might actually be. Maid? Mistress? Companion? It wasn't really our business, but I think all of us would have loved to know.

'Here,' said Enid, bringing a large folded chart of the approaches to Salem Harbour, and spreading it out on the table. Again, that dark glimpse of red nipples against sheer black fabric; strangely arousing and yet equally frightening, too. Enid caught me looking at her, and looked straight back at me, without smiling, without any hint of possible friendship. The thin sunlight illuminated her hair like a black coronet.

Duglass Evelith opened a drawer under the table and produced a large sheet of tracing paper, on which coordinates and transit bearings were already marked. He laid the tracing paper over the chart; although only he knew exactly how it had to be keyed into position, so the chart and the overlay would have been useless to anybody else. One bearing ran through the tip of Juniper Point and the southernmost head of Winter Island; the other bearing ran through Quaker Hill, cleaving a sharp line through Quaker Lane Cottage. About 420 metres off the Granitehead shore an X was marked: the supposed position where the David Dark had gone down, over 290 years ago.

Edward looked at me in excitement. The X was no more than 250 metres south-south-west of where we had been searching the seabed yesterday morning, but under the sea, with its currents and debris and whirling mud, 250 metres was as good as a mile away.

Duglass Evelith watched us with mild amusement. Then he folded up the chart, and laid it to one side, and slipped the overlay back in his drawer.

'You can have this information on several conditions,' he said. 'Firstly, that you never once mention my name in connection with your work. Secondly, that you keep me in daily touch with what you are doing, and that you show me everything, no matter how insignificant, that you bring up from the seabed. Thirdly, and most importantly, that if you locate the copper vessel in which the demon is supposed to be incarcerated, that you do not attempt to open it, but that you pack it at once in ice and bring it here, by refrigerated truck.'

'You want it here?'

'Do you think you can handle it?' Duglass Evelith demanded. 'If it should actually arise, and begin to wield its terrible powers again, do you think you could give it what it craves?'

Forrest said, 'I'm not sure I like this at all.'

But Edward said, 'I don't have any particular objection, provided we can have access to whatever it is, once we've brought it here. We'll want to make all kinds of tests. Normal, as well as paranormal. Bone analysis, carbon dating, ultra-violet scanning, X-ray. Then we'll want to go through the Paarsman test for kinetic energy, and a hypnovolition test.'

Duglass Evelith thought about this, and then shrugged. 'As long as you don't turn my home into an experimental laboratory.'

Edward said, 'I have to be quite straight with you, Mr Evelith. We still lack finance. First of all we have to locate the wreck; then, when we've done that, we have to clear all the mud out of her, collect and tabulate all the broken bits and pieces, and see just how much of the structure we're going to be able to bring up to the surface intact. Finally, we're going to have to rent several large barges, a couple of pontoons, and a floating sheerlegs crane. We have to be talking $5 — $6 million. And that's just for starters.'

'You mean it may be some considerable time before you can bring the wreck to the light of day?'

'That's correct. We certainly can't bring it up next week, even if we find it.'

Duglass Evelith took off his spectacles. 'Well,' he said, 'that's rather a pity. The longer it takes, the less chance I have of seeing it completed.'

'You really want to come face-to-face with an Aztec demon?' I asked him.

He sniffed. The lord of Mictlampa is not any ordinary demon,' he told me.

'Mictlampa?'

'That's the Mexican name for the region of the dead.' 'And does the demon himself have a name?' asked Edward.

'Of course. The lord of Mictlampa is named in the Codex Vaticanus A which was drawn up by Halian monks in the 1500s. There is even an illustration of him, descending out of the night head-first, the way a spider descends his web, to ensnare the souls of the living. He holds sway over all the other Aztec demons of the underworld, including Tezcatlipoca, or "smoking mirror", and alone with Tonacatecutli, the lord of the sun, is entitled to wear a crown. He is always shown with an owl, a corpse, and a dish of human hearts, which are his chief sustenance. His name is Mictantecutli.'

I felt a chill go down my back, and looked at Edward sharply. 'Mictantecutli,' I repeated.

'Yes,' said Edward. ' "Mick the Cutler." '