Chapter Six (go to the original)

They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea. I must ask the old man about this. He is coming this way . . .

He is a funny old man. He must be awfully old, his predominant color is a greyish-green, and he is mostly shiny and slippery, but the ridges of his back were scaly. His form vaguely suggested the anthropoid, while his head is the head of a fish, with prodigious bulging eyes that never close. At the sides of his neck are palpitating gills, and his long paws are webbed. He hops irregularly, sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four. I am somehow glad that he had no more than four limbs. His croaking, baying voice, clearly used for articulate speech, holds all the dark shades of expression which his staring face lacked. He tells me that he is nearly a hundred, and that he was a sailor in the Greenland fishing fleet when Waterloo was fought. He is, I am afraid, a very sceptical person, for when I asked him about the bells at sea and the White Lady at the abbey he said very brusquely, “Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!”

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