The Lonely Shadows: Tales of Horror and the Cthulhu Mythos by John Glasby

the odd feeling that, despite the picturesque tranquility of Corvellan, some dreadful secret from the past still lingered there.
    I went to bed early that night, feeling more tired than usual. I could not rid my thoughts of the notion that my probing into this bizarre affair had, in some way, awakened more than just memories in Corvellan. Staring up at the ceiling, I tried to relax. But it proved impossible to sleep. The small room was hot and stuffy and shortly before retiring, I had stepped outside the front door to smoke a cigarette, looking westward to where the sun had just set.
    It had been then that I’d noticed the long banks of dark cloud gathered along the horizon and guessed that the hot, sultry day was about to break with thunder. A taut sensation of impending disaster took a firm hold on me.
    After an hour of vainly trying to sleep, I got up and went to the window, opening it with difficulty. Outside, the still air was warmer than inside the room. My earlier suspicions were also confirmed when a deep-throated roll of thunder echoed in the distance across the bay.
    A wind had got up but it brought no welcome coolness. There was a pale wash of yellow moonlight lying across the cottage roofs but I knew it would soon be extinguished once the storm broke in earnest. Already, ominous black clouds were piling up towards the zenith.
    I lit a cigarette and smoked it nervously. The entire village was utterly silent as if holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I could just make out the white splashes of foam where the sea was beginning to lash against the stone finger of the jetty.
    The clock in the tiny church chimed midnight, the final echoes being completely drowned out by a thunderous roar as a vivid bolt of lightning seared across my sight. Jerking back involuntarily, I stood with my hand pressed tightly against the wall, then leaned forward again, oblivious to everything but the sudden, unexpected movement, just visible on the far side of the street.
    For a moment, I was sure I had been mistaken. But then I caught a second fragmentary glimpse of the dark figure and I instantly recognized the man who was undoubtedly making his way down to the harbour.
    Ben Trevelyan!
    But where on earth was he going at that ungodly hour? Then I recalled what Hedley Rohan had told me, something I had not really believed at that time.
    Did the stupid fool really intend to go out in that leaking old vessel in the teeth of this storm?
    The shape disappeared into the dark shadows near the end of the street and I found myself tensing nervously as I shifted my gaze to where the length of the jetty was just visible.
    I could clearly make out the shape of the Shirley moored at the far end, the masts swaying from side to side as the tide caught her side-on. When the dark, indistinct figure came into view alongside the boat, I was almost expecting it. There was something oddly frightening about the slow, purposeful way the figure moved, stepping awkwardly onto the deck of the pitching vessel.
    A sudden lightning glare lit the scene in brilliant monochrome. I saw Trevelyan hoist the sails and then the darkness came rushing in again with only a vivid green haze dancing in front of my straining vision.
    When I could see clearly again, the Shirley had been cast off and was away from the harbour, moving slowly towards the narrow gap in the encircling rocks, heading out to sea.
    By the time I let myself out of the hotel, the rain was coming down in torrents. With my way lit by vicious lightning flashes, with the thunder roaring like a demon in my ears, with the howling gale tearing at my sodden clothing, I made my way down to the jetty.
    There was a solitary figure standing there with his back to me and for a moment, I thought it was Trevelyan. Then I saw it was Rohan. He turned as I came up to him.
    “You’ve seen him? Ben Trevelyan,” he shouted hoarsely. “He’s gone out again, hoping it will be different this time. But he can’t