Read Online Coffins by Rodman Philbrick - Free Book Online

a large animal, because the excrement was copious—much more than, say, a dog or even a bear could have supplied. And then came a thought nearly as odious as the stench: that this was the action of human agents. Vandals who had forced their way into the Coffin tomb and purposefully debased it in as wretched a way as possible.
    â€œWhat do you find?” Jeb asked, calling in a clenched voice from the open door.
    And so I returned to the light of day and guided him some distance away, so we could both breathe a bit of fresh air. Jeb waited for my reply, anticipating the worst, and in this he was not disappointed. There was nothing for it but to describe, in plain words, what I had discovered.
    â€œVandals?” he said doubtfully. “And you say they used it as a privy? But that isn’t human shit, I know that smell.”
    He was right, not even the foulest privy smelled so rank. “Then they collected the filth and brought it with them for that purpose,” I suggested.
    â€œBut who would do such a thing?” my friend asked plaintively.
    There was only one possible answer. Someone consumed with righteous loathing for the deceased, and for the living who shared their name. Someone who hated Coffins, alive or dead.

6. The Creature with Yellow Eyes
    On the way back home Jeb swore me to secrecy. “No one in the family must know. It will only add to their distress.”
    â€œLet me be your agent in this matter,” I said. “The church sexton will know someone willing to clean up the mess, and be quiet about it, if the price is right.”
    â€œI’ll pay, of course.”
    I stopped my friend with a hand upon his shoulder, and turned him to face me. “You will do nothing of the kind. You will leave everything to me, and you will banish this whole affair from your mind, exactly as if it had never happened.” There must have been something in my manner that prevented further argument, because Jebediah acquiesced with a kind of shrug, his eyes downcast.
    When home was at last in sight he stopped and took off his stovepipe hat. “I must ask another favor of you,” he began, and then faltered. Finally he blurted out, “Will you see the Captain now?”
    â€œOf course,” I responded without hesitation. “Though I doubt it will do much good, if he’s as disturbed as you describe.”
    Jeb’s smile was grim. “My dear Davis, you underestimate your powers of persuasion, and the comfort of your rational mind. But I hasten to add, this is no small favor. The Captain, my father, he’s … he’s quite reasonable much of the time. But there have been spells—that is, he’s suffered from spells of … some sort of brain fever or dementia. A kind of madness that comes and goes, although it never leaves him entirely. While in this, ah, ‘feverish’ state he can be quite dangerous. He’s an old man, but still fearsomely strong. So you must exercise caution. Whatever you do, don’t tell him you’re a doctor.”
    When we reached the house, Jeb asked me to wait in the parlor while he made sure the old man was “amenable to visitors,” as if I was about to undertake a social call. I wasn’t sure the word “amenable” applied to an apparently dangerous madman, but kept my reservations to myself. Poor Jebediah was having a terrible time trying to cope with the ravages of death and madness in his family, and it was understandable that he hadn’t yet fully accepted his father’s condition, even as he warned me against him.
    The parlor had the feel of a ship’s salon, long and narrow and dark with mahogany. Heavy black velvet mourning drapes made it dim, despite the hour. No fire had been lit, and the air was cool and sea-damp. I sat upon a hard-bottomed chair in the gloom, awaiting my summons, and could not help but doubt the situation. My friend was convinced that I could, by mere