Kingsport 1844: History & Background

In the morning mist comes up from the sea by the cliffs beyond Kingsport. White and feathery it comes from the deep to its brothers the clouds, full of dreams and dank pastures and caves of leviathan. And later, in still summer rains on the steep roofs of poets, the clouds scatter bits of those dreams, that men shall not live without rumour of old, strange secrets, and wonders that planets tell planets alone in the night. When tales fly thick in the grottoes of tritons, and conches in seaweed cities blow wild tunes learned from the Elder Ones, then great eager mists flock to heaven laden with lore, and oceanward eyes on the rocks see only a mystic whiteness, as if the cliff’s rim were the rim of all earth, and the solemn bells of buoys toll free in the aether of faëry.

—H.P. Lovecraft, “The Strange High House in the Mist”

Kingsport and Chaosium

The adventure begins in Kingsport, a port town on the Massachusetts coast. H.P. Lovecraft’s fictionalized version of Marblehead, Kingsport was first profiled by Chaosium in the 1991 supplement Kingsport: The City In the Mists, written by Kevin A. Ross. This beginning chapter of White Leviathan models Kingsport’s history and topography on this sourcebook, and was designed using Chaosium’s maps. Because White Leviathan takes place eighty-four years before the setting provided by Ross, this scenario includes numerous changes that reflect an earlier time period. There have also been a few modifications made to Kingsport’s “official” history preceding the current milieu. All elements of Kingsport history and background are copyrighted by Chaosium, and are used with permission.

What If I Don’t Have the Chaosium Sourcebook?
Because Kingsport: The City In the Mists is out of print, most Keepers won’t have access to Ross’ excellent resource. No worries! This chapter may be run without the sourcebook, and a Kingsport map is provided in “Maps & Legends.” Blue “Kingsport Note” sidebars detail notable changes to Chaosium’s sourcebook, highlight differences and similarities between 1844 and 1928, and explore parallels to actual Essex County history. Keepers who’d like to supplement White Leviathan with Chaosium’s sourcebook may acquire a used copy, or download one of the existing PDFs found online. Just remember, locations described as “late 19^th century” do not exist this this mid-century version of Kingsport.

A Brief History of Kingsport

A closer look at Kingsport’s history helps set the stage for the coming adventure, and offers background into the locations and personalities described in this chapter.

Kingsport was founded in 1639 by fishermen from the Channel Islands and farmers from Southern England. Joining these original setters were numerous dissenters, including Puritans, Brownists, and even a pair of exiled Grindletonians. This motley origin is reflected in the fact that Kingsport has never agreed on a single founder, but rather three founding fathers—Denys de Quetivel, Malachi Hogg, and Alcide de Talebot—and a matriarch, Perotine Cauchés. The settlement was soon joined by two families that would eventually shape Kingsport’s future. The Tuttles were Sabbatarian shipbuilders who claimed descent from the Knights Templar, while the Berkshire Illsleys were wealthy Anglicans looking for a fresh start in the Colonies.

Kingsport has been a seafaring town from its conception, built around a crescent-shaped harbor scooped from the surrounding hills. The landscape’s most striking feature is Kingsport Head, a massive promontory projecting from the upper arm of the crescent and towering a thousand feet above the waves. The Harborside region of Kingsport is sheltered below this promontory, which descends to sea level in a series of terraces known as the Causeway. The southern face of Kingsport Head boasts several suggestive rock formations, the most celebrated being Father Neptune, his hoary stone countenance looming over the shipyards like a patron deity.

Kingsport is renowned for two other natural features—its remarkably dense fogbanks and its many rolling hills. The largest of these is Central Hill, which offers a spectacular view of the Downtown area and Kingsport Harbor from its church-crowned summit. Central Hill is one of three hills that surrounds a picturesque valley known as the Hollow, a quiet neighborhood crossed by Blake’s Creek. Prospect Hill to the south shelters Kingsport’s growing industrial sector, while Kingsport’s South Shore rolls across three large hills known as the Founders before culminating in the heights of Stratton Point.

Naturally, the harbor is the most level region of Kingsport, the outstretched arms of the crescent crumbling into islands such as Hog Island and Doyle’s Rock to the north and Orchard Island to the south. Just past the mouth of Kingsport Harbor is Jersey Reef. While not as treacherous as Innsmouth’s notorious Devil’s Reef, its perilous shoals necessitate a harbor pilot for deep-water vessels. Pilot Island lies across Jersey Reef, and Ross Island is found just up the coastline, home of the North Point Lighthouse.

Kingsport’s most venerable families have resided here for generations, wresting their wealth and status from two centuries of struggle with the sea. While much of the Norman lineage has been assimilated or died out, names such as Hoag, Tuttle, Illsley, Pickering, and Orne have proudly entered the annals of New England history. Kingsport has also been generous to newcomers, and “connies” such as the Macy, Coffin, and Spencer families have likewise found prosperity under the watchful eye of Father Neptune.

The Colonial Period
For most of the seventeenth century, Kingsport was a model colonial town, serving king and country and upholding Britain’s proud nautical heritage. But Essex County has some darker traditions of its own, and any Kingsport history must include, what else?—witches.

The Witch Trials of 1692
The witch panic that swept the Miskatonic Valley in the late seventeenth century did not leave Kingsport unscathed, and rumors of witches have persisted in Kingsport since the founders first dropped anchor. In truth, the Channel Islands were already a haven for religious dissent and the practice of witchcraft, from the sabbats held at the stones of La Catioroc to the infamous “Bad Books” of Forau Island. More witches were burned at the stake in the Channel Islands from 1550-1650 than anywhere else in England!

The growing hysteria in Kingsport culminated in 1692, when thirteen citizens accused of witchcraft were tried and sentenced to death by Price Byram, a Miskatonic Valley magistrate and self-appointed witchfinder. They were hanged outside of town during the stormy night of October 30. Among the unfortunates were Kingsport’s founding father Denys de Quetivel, Malachi Hogg’s daughter Lobelia Tuttle, and Alcide de Talebot’s grandson Geoffrey Talbot. (Their graves are detailed in Encounter 39.) After a few decades of peace, rumors began circulating about a new generation of witches, ones who practiced the dark art of necromancy. In 1720, Kingsport’s new mayor, a zealous young Puritan named Ebenezer “Eben” Hall, took it upon himself to “roote out and destroy ye Kingsport culte of witches & sorcerers.” In 1722, Mayor Hall aroused an angry mob against the Anglican church of St. Michael’s on Central Hill, arresting dozens of people and conducting a series of inquisitions known as the Witch Trials of 1722. (This is depicted in Professor Riddle’s wax museum, Encounter 27.) A condemned ship named the Gravesend was converted to a floating prison and anchored off Hog Island. While nobody was sentenced to death, those not condemned to the prison hulk were tarred and feathered. After being marched around the harbor and pelted with garbage, they were lashed to a spar and carried halfway to Arkham to be dunked in Billington’s Mill.

The Smallpox War
In 1730, the Miskatonic Valley was plagued by something more indiscriminate than witches, and smallpox became the watchword in terror. As per custom, local Inspection Committees established strict regimes of surveillance, quarantine, and isolation. Numerous pesthouses were constructed, including one on modern-day Prospect Hill. However, a few forward-thinking Kingsporters wanted to test a program of inoculation. When it became widely known what inoculation entailed—injecting pus from a victim into a healthy patient—the citizens of Kingsport rose up in “a horrid Clamour,” to quote Cotton Mather. Mayor Hall agreed to abandon the repellant idea, which some Puritans believed was antithetical to Scripture. After all, if smallpox was a punishment dispatched by God, wouldn’t preventing it provoke Him even more? As a result, hundreds of Kingsporters died, including three members of the Board of Selectmen.

In 1773, an even more vehement outbreak threatened Essex County. Although inoculation remained a deeply unpopular practice, the county’s Selectmen decided to face the crisis “in the spirit of Modernity.” With financial support from the Talbot family and Miskatonic College, an inoculation hospital was constructed on Hog Island. Although they refrained from rioting, the citizens of Kingsport complained vociferously, and there were frequent demonstrations against the hospital. Many were simply terrified of the mysterious practice, but even level-headed citizens were concerned the hospital would scare commerce away from the harbor. In response, the hospital agreed to strict operational guidelines.

The Talbot Inoculation Hospital for Smallpox opened in October 1773. Standard procedure was to inoculate healthy citizens in large cohorts called “classes.” A class would be admitted, their clothing would be confiscated, and their bodies fumigated. They would then receive the inoculation and be subsequently treated for the mild case of smallpox that would develop. After being declared healthy and no longer contagious, they’d be released back to the public. The whole process took three to four weeks. The patients occupied themselves by playing quoits and shooting fowls. They even celebrated Guy Fawkes Day by lighting barrels of tar on fire. Public transparency was ensured through red flags, flown daily to display the patients’ general good health and “high spirits.”

Everything went smoothly until January 1774, when the third class of one hundred patients were discharged. Unfortunately, they erroneously docked at an unauthorized cove, touching off a riot that resulted in the burning of an offshore hospital ship named Hermes. A week later, a group of miscreants stole contaminated clothing from Talbot Hospital in an attempt to secretly infect Kingsport and turn the town against inoculation. They were apprehended, tarred and feathered, and publicly paraded along the road to Arkham. (Also depicted in Professor Riddle’s wax museum, Encounter 27.) Soon after, a group of Kingsporters quietly rowed to Hog Island and set fire to the hospital, destroying the building and killing dozens of patients and doctors. The fire spread to the Gravesend, claiming thirteen additional souls and sinking the hulk to the bottom of the harbor. Neighbor turned against neighbor, and Kingsport was gripped by two weeks of rioting. Anyone suspected of having smallpox was run out of town. Armed vigilantes searched for the arsonists, and inoculated “graduates” were treated with suspicion; one was even lynched from a yardarm. A newly-appointed military watch finally brought order and arrested the ringleaders responsible for the fire. Imprisoned in Arkham, they were quickly liberated by an group of armed Kingsporters. (The ruins of Talbot Hospital are detailed in Encounter 40.)

The last act of violence relating to the so-called Smallpox War occurred in March, when one of the clothing thieves was caught trying to steal more infected artifacts from the ruins. Held by the constabulary, he was dragged from his bed by an angry mob and horsewhipped in the public square. Fortunately for the nervous Selectmen, political unrest soon eclipsed fears of smallpox, and Kingsport began preparing for the next chapter in its history.

The Revolutionary Period
Revolution fever swept through Kingsport with greater ferocity than smallpox, and the years preceding the War witnessed escalating hostilities between the town’s Loyalists and her increasingly more numerous Patriots. Tensions came to a head when St. Michael’s Church was again surrounded by an angry mob. This time they had come for Tories, not witches. The British coat of arms was destroyed, the church was sacked and vandalized, and many Anglican Loyalists were driven from Kingsport. (The troubled history of the church on Central Hill is detailed in Encounter 23.)

During the Revolution, Kingsport fought bravely, fielding the 14^th Continental Regiment. Formed from General Clover’s Kingsport Militia and composed primarily of fishermen, the regiment played a vital role in Washington’s famous overnight evacuation of Brooklyn. The town never tires of bragging about the 9600 solders ferried across the East River under cover of darkness and fog—“Who else to get ye safely through fog than a Kingsporter?” The first armed vessel of the Continental Navy was the Hannah, a Kingsport fishing schooner converted to 4-gun raider. For this reason, Kingsport frequently boasts being the “birthplace of the U.S. Navy.” The Illsley and Tuttle shipyards worked tirelessly to supply Congress with Yankee fighting ships, and numerous rapacious privateers found a home in Kingsport Harbor. This naturally attracted the attention of Perfidious Albion, and in 1778 the British blockaded the harbor, and Captain Henry Mowat began shelling the town. Taking advantage of Kingsport’s famous fog, Captain Argus Blaine and men from the Kingsport Militia dragged several cannon up the Causeway in the middle of the night. When the fog lifted in the morning, they opened fire on the British and drove Mowat from the harbor. Pursued by American warships, four British men-of-war were sunk that day, transforming Argus Blaine into a folk hero.

The Negro Purge
Prior to the Revolution, many prosperous Kingsport families owned slaves. In 1780, Massachusetts law gave all free black men the right to vote, and forbade slave owners from treating the children of slaves as property. A series of court cases throughout the 1780s continued to curtail slavery, but the peculiar institution was not formally abolished in Massachusetts until the Thirteenth Amendment. Nevertheless, by the late 1780s, slavery had effectively been ended “voluntarily” in the state. As a result, Kingsport suddenly acquired a large number of unemployed freemen. In 1788, the Board of Selectmen declared these former slaves a “financial drain,” and all unemployed freemen were ordered to leave Kingsport. Some found work in the maritime industry or became cordwainers, but many were labeled as drifters and forced from town by constables and appointed watchmen. Although Kingsport will soon play an important role in the Underground Railroad, many of its black residents have not forgotten the “Negro purge” or the casual brutality of Kingsport’s volunteer watchmen.

The War of 1812
Kingsport also participated in the War of 1812, but with considerably less success than the Revolution. The older generation talks bitterly about the British blockades that strangled commerce and caused the financial ruin of several important families, including the Ornes, the Devereauxs, the Crabbes, and the ill-fated Talbot family. (The “Talbot Curse” is detailed in Encounter 24.) Anti-Tory sentiment still runs deep in Kingsport, fueling the town’s embrace of manifest destiny and its full-throated support of expansionist national policies. Kingsport’s best hope for continued prosperity remains overseas trading, and the British remain their greatest rivals, especially in the Far East.

Modern Kingsport
It took Kingsport a full generation to recover from the disastrous War of 1812, but New Englanders pride themselves on their resilience. Eventually Kingsport’s economy recovered, and the port received a new influx of laborers to bolster its shipbuilding industry, primarily Portuguese, Italians, and Irish.

Given the robust Pickering and Illsley trade with the Far East, Kingsport saw its first group of Chinese immigrants arrive in the 1820s. Unfortunately, these “Celestials” experienced the full force of New England xenophobia. As the Opium War was unfolding overseas and President Tyler was generating support for expanding U.S. trade with China, the Kingsport Chronicle ran a series of well-meaning articles deploring Kingsport’s involvement in the “immoral” opium business and exposing the existence of Chinese sex slavery in Harborside. (The Chronicle is described in Encounter 14.) Outraged Kingsporters burned down “Opium Row,” and Kingsport’s nascent Chinese community was dispersed. However, with the ink barely dry on the Treaty of Wanghsia, the Pickering family has already announced plans to double their business in China, and the Illsleys are likely to follow suit.

Whaling has also offered new prospects to Kingsport’s most enduring families, particularly the Tuttles and the Illsleys. Nor is Kingsport solely indebted to the sea; the Farnsworth Paint Factory and the Spencer Glue Works have pointed to exciting directions of growth inland.

Kingsport, Quakers, and Whaling

The first Quakers to settle in Kingsport were a trio of extended families hailing from Nantucket. Not a people given to suddenly uprooting themselves, the “public” reason for their relocation deserves some explanation. (The more occult reasons are detailed in “Background Part 2—The Kingsport Cult.”)

In 1788, a branch of Kingsport’s Tuttle family visited Nantucket in order to study the business of whaling. During their stay, the daughter of Franklin Tuttle and Eliza Illsley, one Anna Tuttle, fell in love with a dashing young captain named Absalom Macy. Recently retired from the sea on account of an injury received hunting a right whale, Absalom was a brash and arrogant man from the “Black Macys,” a wealthy branch of the Macy clan known as much for their eccentricities as their good fortune in whaling. After Captain Macy and Anna Tuttle decided to marry, they received resistance from the Quaker community­—not only was Absalom marrying “out,” but this Congregationalist was a “coof” as well, an outsider; and worse than that, a coof from haunted Kingsport! After a year of clannish tension, Macy gathered up his family and departed the island, followed by his sister’s family (Phebe Macy Hussey) and his cousin Barzillai Coffin. With the support of the prosperous Tuttles, these Nantucket Quakers settled in Kingsport and shared their knowledge of whaling. A few more dissatisfied Quaker families eventually joined the Black Macys, and Kingsport became home to a small but thriving community of Quakers—and whalers.

Kingsport began her first foray into whaling in 1792, her hopes carried to sea in the wake of the Anna. Captained by Barzillai Coffin and owned by a joint group including Quaker Macys and Congregationalist Tuttles, the Anna was built and outfitted at the Tuttle Shipyard and crewed by a mix of displaced Nantucketers and eager-to-learn Kingsporters. A successful voyage to the newly-discovered whaling grounds off the coast of Chile proved there was profit in the venture, and the Illsley family launched the whaleship Sultan in 1796. Half a century later, Kingsport now boasts a respectable whaling fleet, numbering twenty-one ships with two more under construction. While nowhere near the size and importance of Nantucket, New Bedford, New London, or Sag Harbor, the Kingsport fleet still exceeds the tonnage put afloat by Salem, Falmouth, Newport, and Darkwater Island.

The Economics of Whaling
A successful whaling voyage can be quite profitable. A fully-laden ship may generate between $80,000–$250,000 from the sale of whale oil, spermaceti, baleen, and ambergris. Adjusted to modern dollars, that’s between 2.8 to 8.75 million in revenue! Of course, some of this net is required to cover the cost of outfitting the vessel. From the remaining profit, the owners, or “agents,” take between 60-70%. The remaining sum is used to pay the officers and crew using the “lay system.” (See Encounter 11 for details.)

While whaling has become an important factor in the Kingsport economy, the town is in no danger of becoming another New Bedford. Overseas trading and local fishing remain Kingsport’s primary industries, with fishermen turning to cordwaining during the winter months. While many of the townsfolk are enchanted by the adventure and glamour of whaling, a good percentage of Kingsporters view whaling as a somewhat ostentatious and “foreign” affair, and the whalers and fishermen don’t always get along. There’s also general uneasiness over the number of foreigners and “undesirables” the trade brings to town, as whaling crews contain higher percentages of Pacific Islanders, Native Americans, and African Americans than other sailing vessels. (In the politest contemporary terms, kanakas, Indians, and Negroes.) Even fellow New Englanders are looked upon as outsiders to some extent, and more than a few fights have erupted between native Kingsporters and “connies” from Nantucket and New Bedford.

Law & Order

Kingsport’s first constable was Garnet Brimblecombe, elected in 1649 and charged with enforcing the laws and ordinances established in Kingsport’s founding charter. A second constable was added a few years later. Responsible for keeping the peace and levying fines, Kingsport’s constables were allowed to deputize watchmen, and were paid from the money they collected on fines and levies. They also controlled the Town House stocks, that infamous method of seventeenth-century justice. Because Kingsport lacked a courthouse or jail, serious crimes were tried in neighboring Arkham or Salem.

In 1720, Mayor Eben Hall increased the number of constables from two to five. In the wake of the Witch Trials of 1722, the Gravesend was converted to a floating prison and anchored off Hog Island. After the anti-inoculation riots of 1730, the number of elected constables was increased to six. After the Revolution, Kingsport’s newly-independent government replaced the sunken hulk with a wooden jail near the Town House, designed to house the “many strangers and Seafaring men from other parts of the world coming and residing here who often prove ill-minded, disorderly persons and disturbers of the peace.”

As Kingsport grew more prosperous in the 1830s, its civic and religious leaders expressed the desire for increased legal autonomy. Kingsport is one of many Massachusetts towns lobbying the state government to allow its Selectmen to establish a police department. Currently, Kingsport is served by eight full-time constables. They are stationed in the newly-renovated “Brimblecombe House,” located on Turner Street between the “Old Wooden Gale” and the Central Hill Fire Company (Encounter 19). Kingsport still lacks a courthouse, although there’s plans to build one on Green Lane in the near future. Fines and misdemeanors are processed at Brimblecombe House; but felonies are still tried in Arkham or Salem by the county sheriff, and federal crimes are handled in Boston. Kingsport’s current mayor is Sherwood Cabot.

Innsmouth

Although Innsmouth is not a campaign locale, it figures prominently in the lives of Kingsporters, and an interested Keeper should consult Chaosium’s Escape from Innsmouth or H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” for its colorful history. Although some player characters might express a desire to visit Innsmouth before setting sail, there are no clues to be uncovered there, and the Keeper should gently discourage such misadventures. (Unless of course she plans them herself!) However, as Innsmouth and the Marsh family are involved in the background of White Leviathan, a few words should be said regarding this strange and fishy town.

Located up the coast past Gloucester, Innsmouth is one of Kingsport’s fishing competitors. In steep decline since the War of 1812, Innsmouth has recently reversed this downward trend, and lately her waters have been teeming with fish. Nobody in Kingsport knows why this is so; but the rumors are dark and filled with suspicion, especially since three Kingsport fishing boats were destroyed when they tried to poach Innsmouth waters! The only survivor of this 1842 disaster, young Danny Houghton of the Sabrina, has been confined to St. Erasmus’ Home for Mariners (Encounter 4). Though he publicly adheres to the story of a sudden squall, his dreams are tortured by the truth—the Kingsport boats were attacked by a group of froggish fish-men!

Obed Marsh
As any Lovecraft scholar knows, the reason Innsmouth has been experiencing renewed prosperity is because of Captain Obed Marsh. In 1823, his merchantman Sumatra Queen discovered an uncharted island east of Otaheité (Tahiti). Conversing with Walakea, the leader of a strange tribe of Polynesian natives, Marsh and his mate Leander Alwyn learned about the Deep Ones and the pacts they made with humans. Trading with the “Walakeans,” they brought back fabulous artifacts of submarine gold, opening a refinery and eventually rejuvenating the town. In 1838 Marsh discovered that Walakea’s people had been destroyed by outraged native tribes, who had risen en masse to purge the island of their blasphemous practices. Realizing that he’d have to summon the Deep Ones himself, Marsh performed a ritual sacrifice off Devil’s Reef in 1840. Making contact with the Deep Ones of Y’ha-nthlei, Marsh made a pact that delivered gold and fish from the water in exchange for human sacrifices. Shortly thereafter, Marsh established the Esoteric Order of Dagon and began shuttering Innsmouth’s Christian churches. A new worship took their place, a worship that brought results.

Today in 1844, Innsmouth is quite prosperous, but has acquired a reputation as a strange and unfriendly place, filled with private, paranoid people practicing a “foreign” religion. (Although many confuse the Esoteric Order of Dagon with Freemasonry, as Marsh took over the Masonic Hall as the center for his cult.) While the people of Innsmouth haven’t begun mating with Deep Ones (that will occur after the 1846 uprising), they won’t think twice of killing any outsider who gets in their way—just look at the Sabrina!

Two years after the Quiddity sets sail, the people of Innsmouth who have resisted the cult will place Obed Marsh, Leander Alwyn, and thirty-two of their followers under arrest. Enraged at not receiving their sacrifices, the Deep Ones will emerge from the water and massacre half the town, freeing the cultists from prison and forcing Innsmouth into the final stages of the pact­: interspecies mating. It is from this point onwards that Innsmouth truly goes downhill, with the phrase “the Innsmouth look” emerging as a hateful appellation around the time of the Civil War.

Credits

Thanks to Kevin A. Ross and Chaosium for material on Kingsport. Some of the Kingsport history I devised for White Leviathan has been purchased by Chaosium for use in future resources; specifically the pre-Colonial, Colonial, and Revolutionary War material. This material is copyrighted 2021 by Chaosium, and used with permission.

White Leviathan, Chapter 1—Kingsport 1844
[Back to Prelude: PC Vignettes | White Leviathan TOC | Forward to Kingsport Mechanics & Tables]

Author: A. Buell Ruch
Last Modified: 25 November 2023
Email: quail (at) shipwrecklibrary (dot) com
White Leviathan PDF: [TBD]