Black Ceremonies by Charles Black, David A. Riley Page A

women were eager to show us this new island, urging us on.”
    I was taken aback by Crawford’s sudden wail. “How could we have known they were those sirens of the old sea legends?” The sailor’s expression was genuinely pained.
    I began to point out that he should have been all too aware of the treacherous nature of the seductress, but he forestalled me. “No sermons, please, Father.” 
    I had already realised he was not really making a confession in the traditional sense, so I acquiesced. “Very well. Tell me about this island. If I understand you right, it is this island that you mean to liken to hell itself.”
    He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “I been in some queer places, believe me. But this island – who would have thought it possible? There was a city of sorts, but them buildings were all wrong.  Built of obsidian, and basalt, even some of coral, and a strange green stone, the like of which I ain’t never seen before.
    “It’s hard to explain. I mean, there were bits that reminded me of them pyramids like what they have in Egypt. And in parts, it reminded me of some of them queer temples they have in India. 
    “We wandered around in silent awe, unable to believe our eyes. There was something not right about them buildings. They didn’t seem to fit together quite right, if you get my meaning? No, of course you wouldn’t … It was all real confusing. Maybe I wasn’t as recovered as I had thought. Maybe I was suffering some sort of delusions brought on by my ordeal of drifting at sea.
    “The angles were wrong, and you could never be sure how big they were really. Some seemed smaller inside than they should have been, whilst others had rooms that were so big they should not have fit inside the walls that contained them.
    “There were minarets and spires, and such like. Oh, it were mighty strange, especially all them queer statues.
    “They was like them heathen Egyptian gods, part man and part animal. Their bodies were like that of a man but with a pair of wings upon the back. And for a head, an octopus of some kind. Hideous, yet the women regarded them with great reverence.
    “There was something else equally disturbing that I noticed. Despite the warmth of the sun, the buildings were all wet.
    “There were crustaceans of barnacles and things. And everything was covered in seaweed and wrack. Puddles of seawater teemed with fish, crabs and other such creatures from the deeps.
    “I had no doubt that this island had not long before been beneath the sea, and had risen from the deeps only recently. Who knows, it may have been drowned Atlantis, and maybe it weren’t. The sea’s claimed more than one place for its own.
    “Although I had assumed the island was uninhabited, I soon learned that I was wrong.
    “We heard them before we saw them. Drawn by the beating of drums, and the wailing sound of horns fashioned from conch shells, we discovered that the unnatural buildings were as nothing as to those that lived in them.
    “They were men, I suppose,” Crawford shuddered, “at least some of them were. But they were the ugliest race of men I have ever seen. Their features reminded me of fish, frogs, seals and turtles. They had scaly skin, greyish-green in colour. And the bulging eyes, and gills, Father.” The old sailor was becoming agitated.
    “Most had gangling arms that ended in webbed hands. But some had tentacles instead of arms. I swear!” Crawford had risen and was pacing around now.
    “They were bad enough, but worst of them all was—” Suddenly the mariner wailed. “God help me, but it should not have been possible. Father, he was at least eight feet tall, and he wore yellow robes and a real fancy crown on his octopus head. I think he was their king, or maybe their high priest.”
    “Octopus head?”
    “That’s right, Father.” He grasped hold of me; put his face close to mine. Madness shone in his eyes, but I managed not to recoil from him. “Eight slimy