At a nearby island, still in sight of Dark Harbor, one of the most gruesome and puzzling horrors was said to occur. A small fishing village once stood, named after the red rock cliffs that encircled it and acted as a wall. Several dozen people lived at the village, and most residents rose in the morning to cast their nets wide, bringing in a fresh catch daily to ferry over to Dark Harbor and sell in the afternoon.

However, one morning the villagers did not rise to cast their nets. Instead many of the inhabitants lay dead, slain by an unknown force that came in the night. When an expeditionary crew came aground, they found that the bodies of the slain had been hacked apart, and arranged into crude patterns. Most of the bodies were gathered together and set beyond the tide line at low tide, their fishing nets draped over them and weighed down with rocks.

Some claimed that they had been adrift that night and witnessed a green fog roll in. Others spoke of a lone survivor who had fled when the massacre began and hid in the brush, and they had witnessed dead men rise from the sea, armed with cutlasses and cleavers.

In time, nature reclaimed the few buildings that stood, leaving little more than the bones of a village, a stark reminder to those that dwell in Dark Harbor that the sea holds just as much horror as bounty.