Maritime Mysteries (10 page)

At the conclusion of a police investigation, the only evidence found were the broken pieces of the coffin. Millie's body was never recovered.

Weeks later, the old priest, still tormented by what he saw in the graveyard, went to see his Archbishop. “And what did you think you witnessed,” asked the Archbishop.

“I saw the ghost of a young Rufus and a young woman. They were standing next to the newly dug grave. They just stood there watching.”

“Excuse me, Father,” said the Archbishop, “but you said you saw a young-looking Rufus. Rufus was over eighty when he died, wasn't he? How do you account for that?”

“I don't know,” said the old priest, “but Rufus and I grew up together. I can't explain it, but it was Rufus I saw.”

“And the young woman? Who was she?”

The old priest slowly raised his eyes to his superior and whispered, “Victoria!”

The Codfish Spook

H
e is seen all over town, or so they tell us. You'd have to be blind to miss him, they say. He wears yellow oilskins and a sou'wester, and yes, he carries a codfish over his shoulder. He'll smile, step aside for the ladies, even tip his sou'wester, but he'll not give you the time of day, because he's not of our time any longer. Who is he? He's Saint John, New Brunswick's most colourful personality. One problem, though—he's a ghost! He's known around this old Loyalist town as the Codfish Spook.

So how did he end up in such an altered state? Well, from what we're told, love is what broke his heart, and water is what done him in—the waters of the Bay of Fundy to be exact. This isn't one of these Saint John brand of Irish folk-telling stories. No, according to most, this one's the real McCoy.

While on this earth, the spirit in question had a wife and five children. Keeping food on the table was more than a full time job. Old Codfish didn't mind, of course; he loved his wife and children.

Early one morning, while fishing for cod, he fell overboard and into the Bay of Fundy. One might imagine his last thought to have been, who is going to feed my wife and five little ones? Was it love and concern for his family that brought his spirit back from a watery grave?

There's some argument over where and when the Codfish Spook is seen around town. Some say only on the anniversary of his drowning; others contend, while coming out of a local watering hole on a Saturday night, that they see him all the time. When the fishing boats return to port, he's often seen coming up from the dock with a large cod slung over his shoulder. The Codfish Spook is heading home, where he'll leave the catch on his wife's doorstep, but not before looking inside to see the face of his beloved.

One morning, just before dropping off a fish, what he saw inside his former house set him back on his heels. There sitting at the head of the table was another sea-fairing lad! Well, even a spirit has feelings, and there were no longer any freebies! Not while there's another man “fishin' around!”

As the legend continues to unfolds, there are sightings of the Codfish Spook observing faces. Perhaps he's searching for a more appreciative soul. We have no proof, but have you noticed some of the more attractive Saint John widows hanging out in Market Square these days?

The Fortress Ghost

T
here are certain structures and places that convey a ghostly presence. On a dreary and fog-swept night, Fortress Louisbourg is such a place. In a house inside that great fortress, there is a strong presence other than human—I felt it as soon as I stepped over the threshold. The place in question was, and perhaps still is, the home of a Captain Robert Duhaget.

Ghosts usually keep to themselves, and for the most part move quietly in and out of their favourite haunts. When they accidentally confront the living, they're usually more upset that we are. But not in all cases. Not in the case of the ghost of Captain Robert Duhaget. He doesn't particularly care who sees him—and many employees of Fortress Louisbourg have.

Robert Duhaget was an officer of the Compagnies Franches de la Marine. He was no hero, nor did he distinguish himself in any great battle. Records show that he was slightly wounded during a mutiny by his own troops in Port Toulouse—now St. Peters, Cape Breton.

There are literally hundreds of documents chronicling the life and times of Fortress Louisbourg and its inhabitants. But nowhere is there a mention of any foul deed that may have kept this wandering soul from his grave. What the records do show, however, is that while returning to France, Duhaget died suddenly and was buried at sea. That may be why his spirit haunts the Fortress to this day.

The presence of the ghost was first felt by a worker who was in the attic of the Duhaget home. The employee remembers a man standing by the far wall of the attic wearing a red military greatcoat. At the time he thought the man was just another employee in costume sneaking a break. Both nodded to each other and the employee left. The second incident occurred while another staff member was seated in a chair by the fireplace. He was suddenly startled when a cold breeze swept past the right side of his face and then, as if it were an invisible person, crossed in front of him and then across his left cheek.

What really convinced the staff the home was haunted was when another employee, who was carrying boxes downstairs, stumbled and would have surely fallen if it hadn't been for someone, or something, from behind that grabbed her around the waist. The staff was convinced the ghost had to be Robert Duhaget.

The Duhaget spirit is also seen moving about the fortress grounds—passing sentries as he makes his way to the ramparts to inspect the guards on duty. And during evening prayers the spirit of Robert Duhaget enters the chapel. He sits by himself with his head bowed. Perhaps in some way he is praying to free his spirit and allow his wretched soul to return to France.

The Phantom Drummer

W
hen he told them he heard the sound of a drum late one night coming from the direction of Fort Anne, they told him he must be hearing things. “No,” he professed, “I didn't see anyone, but I did hear the sound of a drum and someone was playing “A Call to Arms.”

In 1605, middle class, upper class, lower class, priests and peasants alike, sailed from France to the new world, and were overwhelmed by what they saw when they sailed up the mouth of the Annapolis River. They exclaimed that “This is a place of wonder!” and they called it Annapolis Royal. In time, however, the British also wanted a piece of this paradise. Many battles ensued between these two powerful forces.

To protect their holdings, the British built Fort Anne. In 1710, and for the last time, the French were out and the British were in—in to stay. But nothing lasts forever; Annapolis Royal's political base would change. When Halifax was founded in 1749, Annapolis Royal was no longer the seat of power and the remaining soldiers at Fort Anne were shipped off to New Brunswick.

Today, Fort Anne is a portrait of what it was like back then. The old cemetery is a constant reminder of the sacrifices made by those early settlers. Resting under the hallowed ground of Fort Anne cemetery are hundreds of soldiers who are perhaps restless because they are unable to find peace in foreign soil. One such restless spirit may be the phantom drummer who is said to wander the ramparts playing “A Call to Arms.”

No one has actually ever seen the phantom drummer, but the president of the Annapolis Royal society, Alan Melanson, has heard him. Alan's first encounter happened one evening, soon after he had retired for the night. For a moment he thought he was dreaming, but when he sat up in bed and listened, he knew someone was playing a drum. In the morning, he was told there was no emergency at the fort overnight. And no one was playing a drum.

Some tourists, we are told, while getting back on their buses, wonder where the soldier was—the one playing the drum.

Don't Walk Behind Me

T
his story is from one of Edith Mosher's popular tales of the paranormal. I include it in her memory.

Ralph was a shy and quiet young farmer who rarely stopped long enough to pass the time of day with his neighbours. One day, Ralph arrived at the local general store and, following several attempts, told the owner that his wife, Martha, had left him for another man. When questioned about the other man, Ralph said he didn't know who he was. He was just guessing that's what she had done—run off and left him. Ralph's story surprised everyone and those who knew Martha could not believe she'd do such a thing. In time, however, no one was talking about Martha's disappearance—the whispering was about Ralph. His neighbours began noticing a drastic change in his behaviour. He started mumbling to himself and constantly looking over his shoulder as if someone was following him. Someone was—the ghost of Martha began dogging him. Poor Ralph never had a moment's peace. Even in death, there was no escaping her.

One afternoon, a farmer who was repairing his fence told his neighbours that he had watched Ralph coming down the road screaming over his shoulder, “Don't walk behind me!” All the farmer could see was Ralph. What he didn't see, of course, was Martha's ghost. Ralph now had a problem. He couldn't tell his family and neighbors what had actually happened to Martha. After all, he had to stick to his story that she had run off with another man. In the end, Ralph was committed to a psychiatric ward. Right there on the doctor's couch with the ghost of Martha watching, he ultimately confessed the whole sordid mess. He had murdered her because she was a busybody, a henpecking woman, he called her. He told the psychiatrist that Martha was appropriately enough, buried under the henhouse. Poor old Ralph was taken back to his room, babbling on, “The witch won't leave me alone. Ralph do this, Ralph do that, don't do that, Ralph.”

When the police dug up what was left of Martha from under the henhouse and buried her in a proper grave, she no longer walked behind Ralph. It made little difference, though. In his present mental state, Ralph was in no condition to appreciate the end of Martha's henpecking.

The Ghost of Princess Lodge

I
n 1794, Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, ordered his loyal subjects to build a domed music room for his mistress along the shores of Bedford Basin. This Halifax, Nova Scotia, landmark, known today as Princess Lodge, is the site of this tale of death and of a ghost that will not remain in his grave.

On a warm summer afternoon, Prince Edward invited a few of his friends on an afternoon of drinking and gambling. As the afternoon wore on, and the booze flowed freely, angry voices were heard over the calm waters of the basin. Two officers—an army colonel by the name of Ogilvie and a young naval lieutenant by the name of Howard—had become embroiled in a bitter dispute over the honour of a woman. Nothing short of a duel would satisfied either man.

It was dusk when both officers, with their seconds by their sides, faced each other. Then the stillness of the evening was broken by the clash of steel against steel. Colonel Ogilvie, a master swordsman in his own right, was no match for the quick and younger man. In a matter of minutes, Colonel Ogilvie fell to the ground, mortally wounded. The young naval officer was also wounded, but didn't die until days later.

It is not known where Prince Edward was at the time; perhaps he too fell—in this case from too much merriment. When he was told of the duel he became outraged. He reminded his officers that dueling was against military regulations. In his anger, the Prince ordered the body of Colonel Ogilvie buried where it had fallen, without military honours.

Not long after the burial, people began noticing a strange sight near the lodge. A lone figure later identified as Colonel Ogilvie could be seen rising up from his grave and wondering the grounds of Princess Lodge.

Legend has it that the ghost of Colonel Ogilvie will not rest until he's given a military burial. Until then, his spirit will continue to haunt the lodge. Some say if you look closely when day gives way to darkness, a lone figure in a red army tunic can be seen still wandering the royal grounds—waiting.

Chapter Five
Haunted
Holiday Spots

The Ghost of Haddon Hall

T
here are people who believe that there is activity in the spirit world, and that spirits are, if you will, reluctant to give up the ghost. Spirits often come back, some never leave, because of a strong attachment to their home. If this is so, let this journey begin in a place where a ghost keeps a nightly vigil—a place where both humans and spirits cohabitate.