Masks of Nyarlathotep 9

30th January, 1925

We are due to arrive at Southampton on the 3rd of February, and we have an agenda to keep us occupied for most of those days.

I start the morning with a swim in the ship’s pool, and are joined by the rest of the group. Clayton demonstrates that he is a much better swimmer than the rest of us. Both Lefty and myself stick to the shallow end of the pool for most of the time.

Afterwards, I go to select a Domino cloak for tomorrow’s ball. I select a nice bright red Domino cloak, and white mask. It is a beautiful calm day as we have lunch and listen to music. We also get to hear Professor’s Fuda and Paterson argue over Paterson’s research. This afternoon we’ll get to see what Paterson has been doing when he demos his Glass of Mortlam experiment to us.

That afternoon, there is a small intellectual gathering in Professor Paterson’s stateroom.

He shows the Zanthu Tablets to me, which is apparently an original printing by Harold Hadley Copeland. I know Copeland is a leading authority on the ancient civilisations of the Pacific. His later works, including the Zanthu Tablets, are known to be somewhat unorthodox. I hadn’t seen a copy of this before. It was published after he was asked to retire due to his unorthodox views.

Professor Paterson says that the experiments he is going to be demonstrating are based on what is in the Tablets. He brings out a piece of sea washed glass, and places it in a stand. There is incense and candles arranged around it, and a sausage.

After making some sarcastic comments, Carlton is asked to read some odd words. There is a wavering in the smoke. The pool of light reflected from the candle onto the wall brightens and takes focus, clarifying into a misty mass of people dancing. They are wearing headbands, with tongues on. The image pulls back, showing a large mountain. We all recognise the mountain as Mount Satima in Kenya.

I’m feeling sick to the stomach at the sight of this, and the Professor looks very confused, and tries to refocus the mirror. The image shifts up the mountain, focusing briefly on a ghastly combination of a woman and termite queen.

I ask him if he’s okay, and he asks everyone to leave. I try to find out what went wrong from him but he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. He drinks a large whisky, and I also take a drink before we all leave. He does seem rather upset, which isn’t too surprising. I’m a bit worried about him, but I’m also feeling a bit shaky myself, and head to the bar in order to steady my nerves. I try to sketch what we saw in the image.

Clayton tries to recreate the experiment with a whisky glass and a cigar, but fails. Which is possibly fortunate.

We go to dinner, and then on to cocktails afterwards. Quite a few cocktails. We head, rather unsteadily, back to our staterooms and on the way I notice that Professor Paterson’s door is open. I notice this when I accidentally try to use the door for stability. It swings open, and I realise I’m laying on the floor.

The Professor is down on the floor with me, with porridge spilled out around his head. Lefty comes in to help me up. There is a gun on the floor, and no piece of glass on the stand. I get to my feet, and wander off to try and find a steward. I have vague memories of finding a steward and trying to explain that the Professor has a problem with his brains being in the wrong place. Everyone kept on insisting that I was tired and emotional, and I remember insisting that I was not tired. We needed to see the captain or the captain needed to see the professors brains and we needed to go back to the cabin where the professor was missing his stone. The steward insists that Clayton most inappropriately takes me, a lady, back to my cabin. Most inappropriate. The floor becomes very nice.

31st January,1925

I have a headache. I’m on my bed. I’m still fully clothed. Someone had very usefully put a glass of water next to my bed. I have vague memories of last night, and realise that I may have not given such a great impression. There is something stuffed down the top of my dress. Pulling it out, I see my sketch of the Thing On The Mountain that I made yesterday. I have a sudden need to go find the bathroom.

I skip breakfast and go for a swim. We have been asked to go to an inquest this afternoon about the death of Professor Paterson. Captain Hase oversees the inquest.

The surgeon describes that the Professor had suffered a gunshot wound to his temple. The Colt revolver was missing one bullet, and it looked like a close range shot. His tongue was also missing, and it seemed to have been removed post mortem.

People manage to avoid describing me as “tired and emotional” last night, which is good. There was about $5000, and a further $11,000 in travellers cheques in the cabin. The lock to the door had scratches on, and there was also signs that the door had been forced. The piece of glass is also missing, but the books are there.

Everyone who saw the Professor at the experiment comments that he seemed in distress when he asked as all to leave.

The inquest decides that it was probably suicide, and that someone else removed the tongue afterwards. I had planned to ask about the books, but Lefty lets me know that he purloined the Zanthu Tablets, so I keep quiet about them.

That evening, I go to the ball, where I am escorted by Hargrove Thorpe, one of the Professor Fuda’s assistants. He had asked me some days back, and I’d completely forgotten in all the excitement. As it turns out, there is a large imbalance in the number of men and women, so I get to dance with a lot of the men.

Whilst dancing with Major Keith Trevor, who is a very good dancer, when things are suddenly interrupted by a loud shreaking. He escorts me to a group of ladies, then goes off to investigate what the fuss is. So I follow him.

We go to the first class salon, where there is a young lady who has feinted. I go to check on the woman, who comes around and starts screaming. I calm her down, and she points to the powder room, saying “blood”. I tell her to start counting the items in her handbag.

Lefty goes into the room, where there is a woman in a red Domino and white mask (not me), with her throat sliced open. Blood is everywhere. This pretty much brings an end to the ball.

The three of us head back to our stateroom, and discuss what happened. Lefty brings up what had already occurred to me, in that the woman who had been murdered was about my height with the same hair colour as me. As well as having a red dress and white mask.

1st February

There is pistol shooting up on deck, so I decide to take it up as a hobby. I know how to use a rifle, having done some shooting on my family estate, but a rifle doesn’t fit under my dress.

Whilst shooting, I try to ignore the arguments coming from the shuffleboard players. Mostly a Governor complaining that a Russian Count has been hogging the board most of the trip. The shooting behind us gets louder, and I turn around. There seems to be some scrum happening at the shuffleboard, with people pulling guns around the Count, and a couple of burly men shouting something about the Romonov’s also pulling guns.

One has come out of a nearby door brandishing a gun shouting about Russian Liberation or something. I shoot him in the knee with my air pistol.

It looks like a priest had tried throwing a grenade at the Count, but it was kicked overboard and there was a boom from the sea.

Lefty pulls out a real gun and starts shooting, but misses. The priest goes down as the Count’s bodyguards start shooting back. The mad bearded Bolsheviks are firing wildly towards the Count. Clayton grabs another air pistol and shoots another beardy guy in the knee. I throw my empty pistol at the one I’d shot, and miss.

A Bolshevik pulls out something and charges towards the Count. Clayton body slams him, knocking him sideways, and then the Count tackles him, knocking the Bolshevik over the side of the ship. There is another boom.

The final thug is fumbling for something with his unwounded hand out of his jacket. I throw myself at him, knocking him back through the doorway. I put my success down to surprise. I slam the door, and there is a final boom from the other side of the door.

The Count comes over and offers me a drink from his hip flask, complementing me on my bravery. I thank him.

The Governor is complaining that “this never happens in Vermont”. I point out that Vermont sounds very boring, and check him over to see if the poor fragile flower is okay, though the Count does seem to be trying to herd me off to have a drink.

There is another inquest.

The priest, Valentine Popov, and his Bolshevik assassins.

Afterwards, the Count invites me to lunch. There is a talent show this afternoon, but I stay chatting with Count Mikhail Andreevich Kurosov. He has a wonderful collection of artworks in his stateroom, and Byzantine artefacts. We have a drink and a smoke.

We have dinner at the Captain’s table that evening,

I am sent a bunch of Orchids, and a wonderfully wrapped box. Inside is a beautiful gold and enamelled diamond encrusted cigarette case with the arms of the Romanov family on it, and a cigarette holder. It comes with a note from the Count which says thank you for a wonderful afternoon.

The three of us are discussing the events of the day, when there is a shouting in the corridor. Lefty looks out, and the Canadian Patterson (two t’s). His sister, Ms Fraiser Patterson, is leaning on him. She has a shallow but bleeding cut to her throat, and she looks like she has been in a fight, including bruised knuckles. I check her over and see to her wounds.

Apparently some black guy with a headband grabbed her and tried to stab her. She kicked him in the crotch and fled. Lefty goes off looking for him.

2nd February

We are arriving in France, at Cherbourg, in the afternoon. I swim in the morning, have breakfast, and spend the morning playing Shuffleboard with Count Mikhail.

Professor Fuda is discussing a route to Jerusalem Cairo with his colleagues. When Clayton approaches them, they cover up their map. Clayton tries to get them in conversation about the depiction of ancient cultures in movies. Professor Fuda is not interested, but Hargrove Thorpe will go into some detail of what is wrong.

That evening there is a farewell ball, as the ship leaves Cherbourg and heads for Southhampton.

I dance with the Count, and he is very flirtatious. We both head back to his stateroom, when I notice a small door ahead of us is open. A figure with a white headband and tongue leaps out, brandishing a large knife.

Both the Count and I try to pull each other backwards, and his bodyguard steps forward. There is a flash of the knife, and the Count pushes me back away from the knife, taking the knife to his forearm.

I fall back past the two men, and there is a bang and the attacker goes down with a shot to the crotch. I check the Count’s wound, and myself and the bodyguard get him to his room so I can clean it and bandage it up. I should really leave at this point, but I don’t.

3rd February

I leave the Count’s stateroom in the morning, feeling much more grounded in reality. We’ve exchanged addresses so that we can contact each other if we want – but he is heading to Poland. I ask him to find out what happened to the cultist, and the Captain is willing to share with him what he wouldn’t share with us. The cultist did have a third tongue (the young lady’s) in his quarters, along with an African fetish.

We disembark the ship at Southampton, and ready ourselves to head for London.