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Scary Stories

A Haunted Island - Algernon Blackwood

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Duration:
43m
Broadcast on:
17 Jul 2024
Audio Format:
mp3
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You've arrived. That's Energy in Progress. Visit chevron.com/tankless. For a brief moment, I stood looking out at the shaft of light that fell from the windows and shown some little distance down the pathway and out for a few feet into the lake. As I looked, I saw a canoe glide into the pathway of light, and immediately crossing it, pass out of sight again into the darkness. It was perhaps a hundred feet from the shore, and it moved swiftly. I was surprised that a canoe should pass the island at that time of night, for all the summer visitors from the other side of the lake had gone home weeks before, and the island was a long way out of any line of water traffic. My reading from this moment did not make very good progress, for somehow the picture of that canoe gliding so dimly and swiftly across the narrow track of light in the black waters silhouetted itself against the background of my mind with singular vividness. It kept coming between my eyes and the printed page. The more I thought about it, the more surprised I became. It was a larger build than any I had seen during the past summer months, and was more like the old Indian War canoes with the high curving bows and stern and wide beam. The more I tried to read, the less success attended my efforts, and finally I closed my books and went out onto the veranda to walk up and down a bit and shake the chilliness out of my bones. The night was perfectly still, and as dark as imaginable, I stumbled down the path to the little landing wharf, where the water made the very faintest of gurgling under the timbers. The sound of a big tree falling in the mainland forest, far across the lake, stirred echoes in the heavy air, like the first guns of a distant night attack. No other sound disturbed the stillness that rained supreme. As I stood upon the wharf in a broad splash of light that followed me from the sitting room windows, I saw another canoe cross the pathway of uncertain light upon the water and disappear at once into the impenetrable gloom that lay beyond. This time I saw more distinctly than before. It was like the former canoe, a big birch bark with high, crusted bows and stern and broad beam. It was paddled by two Indians, of whom the one in the stern, the steerer, appeared to be a very large man. I could see this very plainly, and though the second canoe was much nearer the island than the first, I judged that they were both on their way home to the government reservation, which was situated some 15 miles away upon the mainland. I was wondering in my mind what could possibly bring any Indians down to this part of the lake at such an hour of the night when a third canoe, a precisely similar build, and also occupied by two Indians, passed silently around the end of the wharf. This time the canoe was very much nearer shore, and it suddenly flashed into my mind that the three canoes were in reality one and the same, and that only one canoe was circling the island. This was by no means a pleasant reflection, because if it were the correct solution of the unusual appearance of the three canoes in this lonely part of the lake at so late an hour, the purpose of the two men could only reasonably be considered to be in some way connected with myself. I had never known of the Indians attempting any violence upon the settlers who shared the wild inhospitable country with them. At the same time, it was not beyond the region of possibility to suppose, but then I did not care even to think of such hideous possibilities, and my imagination immediately sought relief in all manner of other solutions to the problem, which indeed came readily enough to my mind, but did not succeed in recommending themselves to my reason. Meanwhile, by a sort of instinct, I stepped back out of the bright light in which I had hitherto been standing and waited in the deep shadow of a rock to see if the canoe would again make its appearance. Here I could see, without being seen, and the precautions seemed to wise one. After less than five minutes, the canoe, as I had anticipated, made its fourth appearance. This time, it was not twenty yards from the wharf, and I saw that the Indians meant to land. I recognized the two men as those who had passed before, and the steerer was certainly an immense fellow. It was unquestionably the same canoe. There could be no longer any doubt that for some purpose of their own, the men had been going round and round the island for some time, waiting for an opportunity to land. I strained my eyes to follow them in the darkness, but the night had completely swallowed them up, and not even the faintest swish of the paddles reached my ears. As the Indians plied their long and powerful strokes, the canoe would be round again in a few moments, and this time it was possible that the men might land. It was well to be prepared. I knew nothing of their intentions, and the two to one, when the two or big Indians laid at night on a lonely island, was not exactly my idea of a pleasant intercourse. In a corner of the sitting room, leaning up against the back wall, steward my Marlon rifle, with ten cartridges in the magazine, and one lying snugly in the greased breach. There was just time to get up to the house and take up a position of defense in that corner. Without an instant hesitation, I ran up to the veranda, carefully picking my way among the trees, so as to avoid being seen in the light. Entering the room, I shut the door leading to the veranda, and as quickly as possible turned out every one of the six lamps. To be in a room so brilliantly lighted, where my every movement could be observed from outside, while I could see nothing but impenetrable darkness at every window, was by all laws of warfare and unnecessary concessions to the enemy. And this enemy, if enemy it was to be, was far too wily and dangerous to be granted any such advantages. I stood in the corner of the room, with my back against the wall, and my hand on the cold rifle barrel. The table, covered with my books, lay between me and the door, but for the first few minutes after the lights were out, the darkness was so intense that nothing could be discerned at all. Then, very gradually, the outline of the room became visible, and the framework of the windows began to shape itself dimly before my eyes. After a few minutes the door, its upper half of glass, and the two windows that looked out upon the front veranda became specially distinct. And I was glad that this was so, because if the Indians came up to the house I should be able to see their approach and gather something of their plans, nor was I mistaken. For there presently came to my ears the peculiar hollow sound of a canoe landing and being carefully dragged up over the rocks. The paddles I distinctly heard being placed underneath, and the silence that ensued there upon, I rightly interpreted to mean that the Indians were stealthily approaching the house. While it would be absurd to claim that I was not alarmed, even frightened, at the gravity of the situation and its possible outcome, I speak the whole truth when I say that I was not overwhelmingly afraid for myself. I was conscious that even at this stage of the night I was passing into a cyclical condition in which my sensations seemed no longer normal. Physical fear at no time entered into the nature of my feelings, and though I kept my hand upon my rifle the greater part of the night, I was all the more conscious that its assistance could be of little avail against the terrors that I had to face. More than once I seemed to feel most curiously that I was in no real sense a part of the proceedings, nor actually involved in them, but that I was playing the part of a spectator, a spectator more over on a psychic rather than on a material plane. Many of my sensations that night were too vague for definite description and analysis, but the main feeling that will stay with me is the end of my days as the awful horror of it all, and the miserable sensation that if the strain had lasted a little longer than was actually the case, my mind must inevitably have given way. Meanwhile I stood still in my corner and waited patiently for what was to come. The house was as still as the grave, but the inarticulate voices of the night sang in my ears, and I seemed to hear the blood running in my veins and dancing in my pulses. If the Indians came to the back of the house, they would find the kitchen door and window securely fastened. They could not get in there without making considerable noise which I was bound to hear. The only mode of getting in was by means of the door that faced me, and I kept my eyes glued on that door without taking them off for the smallest fraction of a second. My sight adapted itself every minute better to the darkness. I saw the table that nearly filled the room and left only a narrow passage on each side. I could also make out the strange backs of the wooden chairs pressed up against it, and could even distinguish my papers and inkstand lying on the white oilcloth covering. I thought of the gay faces that had gathered round that table during the summer, and I longed for the sunlight as I had never longed for it before. Less than three feet to my left, the passageway led to the kitchen, and the stairs leading to the bedrooms above commenced in this passageway, but almost in the sitting room itself. Through the windows I could see the dim motionless outlines of the trees, not a leaf stirred, not a branch moved, a few moments of this awful silence, and then I was aware of a soft tread on the boards of the veranda. So stealthy that it seemed an impression directly on my brain rather than upon the nerves of hearing. Immediately afterwards, a black figure darkened the glass door, and I perceived that a face was pressed against the upper panes. A shiver ran down my back, and my hair was conscious of a tendency to rise and stand at right angles to my head. It was the figure of an Indian, broad-shouldered and immense. Indeed, the largest figure of a man I have ever seen outside of a circus hall. By some power of light that seemed to generate itself in the brain, I saw the strong dark face with the aquiline nose and high cheekbones flattened against the glass. The direction of the gaze I could not determine, but faint gleams of light as the big eyes rolled round and showed their whites told me plainly that no corner of the room escaped their searching. For what seemed fully five minutes, the dark figure stood there, with the huge shoulders bent forward so as to bring the head down to the level of the glass, while behind him, though not nearly so large, the shadowy form of the other Indian swayed to and fro like a bent tree. While I waited in an agony of suspense and agitation for the next movement, little currents of icy sensation ran up and down my spine, and my heart seemed alternately to stop beating and then start off again with terrifying rapidity. They must have heard it thumping and the singing of the blood in my head. Moreover, I was conscious as I felt a cold stream of perspiration trickle down my face of a desire to scream, to shout, to bang the walls like a child, to make a noise or do anything that would relieve the suspense and bring things to a speedy climax. It was probably this inclination to lead me to another discovery for when I tried to bring my rifle from behind my back to raise it and have it pointed at the door ready to fire. I found that I was powerless to move the muscles paralyzed by this strange fear, refused to obey the will. Here, indeed, was a terrifying complication. There was a faint sound of rattling at the brass knob, and the door was pushed open a couple of inches, a pause of a few seconds, and it was pushed open still further. Without a sound of footsteps that was appreciable to my ears, the two figures glided into the room and the man behind gently closed the door after him. They were alone with me between the four walls. Could they see me standing there so still and straight in my corner? Had they perhaps already seen me, my blood surged and sang like the roll of drums in an orchestra, and though I did my best to suppress my breathing, it sounded like the rushing of wind through a pneumatic tube. My suspense as to the next move was soon at an end, only, however, to give place to a new and keener alarm. The men had hitherto exchanged no words and no signs, but there were general indications of a movement across the room. In whichever way they went, they would have to pass round the table. If they came my way, they would have to pass within six inches of my person. While I was considering this very disagreeable possibility, I perceived that the smaller Indian, kind of smaller by comparison, suddenly raised his arm and pointed to the ceiling. The other fellow raised his head and followed the direction of his companion's arm. I began to understand at last they were going upstairs, and the room directly overhead to which they pointed had been until this night, my bedroom. It was the room in which I had experienced that very morning so strange a sensation of fear, and but for which I should then have been lying asleep in the narrow bed against the window. The Indians then began to move silently around the room. They were going upstairs, and they were coming round my side of the table. So stealthy were their movements that, but for the abnormally sensitive state of the nerves, I should never have heard them. As it was, their cat-like tread was distinctly audible. Like two monstrous black cats, they came round the table toward me, and for the first time I perceived that the smaller of the two dragged something along the floor behind him. As it trailed along over the floor with a soft, sweeping sound, I somehow got the impression that it was a large dead thing without stretched wings or a large, spreading cedar branch. Whatever it was, I was unable to see it even in outline, and I was too terrified even had I possessed the power over my muscles to move my neck forward in the effort to determine its nature. Nearer and nearer they came, the leader rested a giant hand upon the table as he moved. My lips were glued together, and the air seemed to burn in my nostrils. I tried to close my eyes so that I might not see as they passed me, but my eyelids had stiffened and refused to obey. Would they never get by me? Sensation seemed almost to have left my legs, and it was as if I were standing on mere supports of wood or stone. Worse still, I was conscious that I was losing the power of balance, the power to stand upright, or even to lean backwards against the wall. Some force was drawing me forward, and a dizzy terror seized me that I should lose my balance and topple forward against the Indians just as they were in the act of passing me. Even moments drawn out into hours must come to an end sometime, and almost before I knew it, the figures had passed me and had their feet upon the lower step of the stairs leading to the upper bedrooms. There could not have been six inches between us, and yet I was conscious only of a current of cold air that followed them. They had not touched me, and I was convinced that they had not seen me. Even the trailing thing on the floor behind them had not touched my feet, as I had dreaded it would, and on such an occasion as this, I was grateful even for the smallest mercies. The absence of the Indians from my immediate neighborhood brought little sense of relief. I stood shivering and shattering in corner, and beyond being able to breathe more freely, I felt no wit less uncomfortable. Also, I was aware that a certain light, which, without apparent source or rays, had enabled me to follow their every gesturing movement, had gone out of the room with their departure. An unnatural darkness now filled the room, and pervaded its every corner, so that I could barely make out the positions of the windows and the glass doors. As I said before, my condition was evidently an abnormal one. The capacity for feeling surprise seemed, as in dreams, to be wholly absent. My sense is recorded with unusual accuracy every smallest occurrence, but I was able to draw only the simplest deductions. The Indians soon reached the top of the stairs, and there they halted for a moment. I had not the faintest clue as to their next movement. They appeared to hesitate. They were listening attentively. Then I heard one of them, who, by the weight of his soft tread, must have been the giant, cross the narrow corridor, and enter the room directly overhead. My own little bedroom. But for the insistence of that unaccountable dread I had experienced there in the morning, I should at that very moment have been lying in the bed with the big Indian in the room standing beside me. For the space of a hundred seconds there was silence, such as might have existed before the birth of sound. It was followed by a long quivering shriek of terror, which rang out into the night and ended in a short gulp before it had run its full course. At the same moment, the other Indian left his place at the head of the stairs and joined his companion in the bedroom. I heard the thing trailing behind him along the floor. A thud followed, as of something heavy falling, and then all became as still and silent as before. It was at this point that the atmosphere, search charged all day with the electricity of a fierce storm, found relief in a dancing flash of brilliant lightning simultaneously with a crash of loudest thunder. For five seconds every article in the room was visible to me with amazing distinctness, and through the windows I saw the tree trunks standing in solemn rows, the thunder peeled and echoed across the lake and among the distant islands, and the floodgates of heaven then opened and let out their rain in streaming torrents. The drops fell with a swift rushing sound upon the still waters of the lake, which leaped up to meet them and patterned with a rattle of shot on the leaves of the maples and the roof of the cottage. A moment later, and another flash, even more brilliant and of longer duration than the first, lit up the sky from zenith to horizon and bathed the room momentarily in dazzling whiteness. I could see the rain glistening on the leaves and branches outside. The wind rose suddenly, and in less than a minute the storm that had been gathering all day burst forth in its full fury. Above all the noisy voices of the elements, the slightest sounds in the room overhead made themselves heard, and in the few seconds of deep silence that followed the shriek of terror and pain, I was aware that the movements had commenced again. The men were leaving the room and approaching the top of the stairs. A short pause, and they began to descend. Behind them, tumbling from step to step, I could hear that trailing thing being dragged along. It had become ponderous. I awaited their approach with a degree of calmness, almost of apathy, which was only explicable on the ground that, after a certain point, nature applies her own anesthetic, an immersible condition of numbness, supervenes. On they came, step by step, nearer and nearer, with the shuffling sound of the burden behind, growing louder as they approached. They were already halfway down the stairs, when I was galvanized afresh into a condition of terror by the consideration of a new and horrible possibility. It was the reflection that if another vivid flash of lightning were to come, when the shadowy procession was in the room, perhaps when it was actually passing in front of me, I should see everything in detail, and worse, be seen myself. I could only hold my breath and wait, wait while the minute lengthened into hours, and the procession made its slow progress round the room. The Indians had reached the foot of the staircase. The form of the huge leader loomed in the doorway of the passage, and the burden with an ominous thud had dropped from the last step to the floor. There was a moment's pause, while I again saw the Indian turn and stooped to assist his companion. Then the procession moved forward again, entered the room close on my left, and began to move slowly around my side of the table. The leader was already beyond me, and his companion, dragging on the floor behind him the burden, whose confused outline I could dimly make out, was exactly in front of me, when the cavalcade came to a dead halt. At the same moment, with a strange suddenness of thunderstorms, the splash of the rain ceased altogether, and the wind died away into utter silence. For the space of five seconds, my heart seemed to stop beating, and then the worst came. A double flash of lightning lit up the room in its contents with merciless vividness. The huge Indian leader stood a few feet past me on my right. One leg was stretched forward and the act taking a step. His immense shoulders were turned towards his companion, and in all their magnificent fierceness I saw the outline of his features. His gaze was directed upon the burden his companion was dragging along the floor, but his profile, with a big aquiline nose, high cheekbone, straight black hair and bold chin, burnt itself in that brief instant into my brain, never again to fade. Dwarfish, compared with his gigantic figure, appeared the proportions of the other Indian, who, within twelve inches of my face, was stooping over the thing he was dragging in a position that led to his person the additional horror of deformity. And the burden, lying upon a sweeping cedar branch, which he held and dragged by a long stem, was the body of a white man. The scalp had been neatly lifted, and blood lay in a broad smear upon the cheeks and forehead. Then, for the first time that night, the terror that had paralyzed my muscles and my will lifted, it's unholy spell for my soul. With a loud cry, I stretched out my arms to seize the big Indian by the throat, and grasping only air, tumbled forward unconscious upon the ground. I had recognized the body, and the face was my own. It was bright daylight, when a man's voice recalled me to consciousness. I was lying where I had fallen, and the farmer was standing in the room with the loaves of bread in his hands. The horror of the night was still in my heart. And as the bluff settler helped me to my feet, and picked up the rifle which had fallen with me, with many questions and expressions of condolence, I imagined my brief replies were neither self-explanatory, nor even intelligible. That day, after a thorough and fruitless search of the house, I left the island, and went over to spend my last ten days with the farmer. And when time had came for me to leave, the necessary reading had been accomplished, and my nerves had completely recovered their balance. On the day of my departure, the farmer started early in his big boat with my belongings to row to the point, twelve miles distant, where a little steamer ran twice a week for the accommodation of hunters. Late in the afternoon, I went off in another direction in my canoe, wishing to see the island once again, where I had been the victim of so strange an experience. In due course I arrived there and made a tour of the island. I also made a search of the little house, and it was not without a curious sensation in my heart, but I entered the little upstairs bedroom. There seemed nothing unusual. Just after I re-embarked, I saw a canoe gliding ahead of me around the curve of the island. A canoe was an unusual sight at this time of the year, and this one seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Altering my course a little, I watched it disappear around the next projecting point of rock. It had high curving bows, and there were two Indians in it. I lingered with some excitement to see if it would appear again around the other side of the island, and in less than five minutes it came into view. There were less than two hundred yards between us, and the Indians, sitting on their haunches, were paddling swiftly in my direction. I never paddled faster in my life than I did in those next few minutes, when I turned to look again, the Indians had altered their course, and were again circling the island. The sun was sinking behind the forests on the mainland, and the crimson-colored clouds of sunset were reflected in the waters of the lake. When I looked round for the last time, and saw the big bark canoe and its two dusky occupants still going round the island, then the shadows deepened rapidly, the lake grew black, and the night wind blew its first breath in my face as I turned to corner, and a projecting bluff of rock hid from my view both island and canoe. End of A Haunted Island Well, it sounds like the tenants at your rental property sure know how to throw a great party. 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