Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 27, No. 1, September 17, 1927

“I SAW A GREAT SHIP COME GLIDING OVER THE GLASSY SEA,” SAID MRS. ROSE; “ITS SAILS ALL SET AND ABLAZE, YET THEY WERE NOT CONSUMED”

The late William T. Stead, well-known author and newspaper man, several years ago wrote:

“Unless all religions are based upon lies — that is to say, unless the most spiritually enlightened of the great leaders of our race, whose knowledge of the secret springs of the nature of man is attested by the enthusiastic devotion of the noblest of mankind in all ages — there is a world from which, if these founders were not deceived, they received the inspiration and the impulse which gave them their influence among men.

“For centuries the application of the inquiring spirit to these hidden forces was summarily checked by the rough methods of the rack and the tar barrel in this life, and the grim menace of eternal perdition in the next.

“Even in our day the student is overwhelmed with ridicule and punished for his temerity by the pitying compassion of his friends and the contempt and ostracism of the multitude.

“The time has surely come when the fair claim of ghosts to the impartial attention and careful observation of mankind should no longer be ignored. In earlier times people believed in them so much that they cut their acquaintance; in later times people believe in them so little that they will not even admit their existence. Thus these mysterious visitants have hitherto failed to enter into that friendly relation with mankind which many of them seem to desire.

“The reality of the Invisibles has long since ceased to be for me a matter of speculation.”

Stead was a hard-headed newspaper man. He was a trained investigator who derived much of his journalistic fame from his fearless exposure of the real facts concerning various things which he had investigated. He was not a man who could easily be fooled. Yet he believed that “beyond the veil” there are spirits or ghosts — call them what you will — which take an active interest in the affairs of this world.

A Knock at the Door

One thing is certain, that, in spite of the great advances which have been made in the field of science, there are many things which scientists confess they are unable to explain. In this and the other articles of the series some of these phenomena are related. No explanation has been attempted, no theories advanced. The accounts are merely the records of the actual facts as far as they are known.

The first instance in this article is taken from a case which William T. Stead himself investigated. He first heard of it from a friend of his, whose story was so unusual that the newspaper man immediately became interested.

Stead himself says that the narrative “rests on the excellent authority of the Rev. Father Fleming, the hard-working Catholic priest of Slindon, in Sussex.” The account which follows was written out by Father Fleming, who vouched for every word on his sacred honor as a priest. W. T. Stead, who later published it, said, in comment: “In all the wide range of spectral literature I know of no story that is quite like this.”

So here it is:

“I was spending my usual vacation in Dublin in the year 1868, I may add very pleasantly, since I was staying at the house of an old friend of my father’s, and while there was treated with the attention which is claimed by an honored guest, and with as much kindness and heartiness as if I were a member of his family.

“I was perfectly comfortable, perfectly at home. As to my professional engagements I was free for the whole time of my holiday, and could not in any manner admit a scruple or doubt as to the manner in which my work was being done in my absence, for a fully qualified and earnest clergyman was supplying for me.

“Perhaps this preamble is necessary to show that my mind was at rest, and that nothing in the ordinary course of events would have recalled me so suddenly and abruptly to the scene of my labors at Woolwich.

“I had about a week of my unexpired leave of absence yet to run when what I am about to relate occurred to me. No comment or explanation is offered. It is simply a narrative.

“I had retired to rest at night, my mind perfectly at rest, and slept as young men in robust health do, until about four o’clock in the morning. It appeared to me about that hour that I was conscious of a knock at the door.

“Thinking it to be the manservant who was accustomed to call me in the morning, I at once said, ‘Come in.’

“You must attend us”

“To my surprise there appeared at the foot of the bed two figures, one a man of medium height, fair and well fleshed, the other tall, dark and spare. Both were dressed as artisans belonging to Woolwich Arsenal.

“On asking them what they wanted, the shorter man replied: ‘My name is C...s. I belong to Woolwich. I died on... of..., and you must attend me.’

“Probably the novelty of the situation and the feelings attendant upon it prevented me from noticing that he had used the past tense.

“The reply which I received to my question from the other man was like in form: ‘My name is M...ll. I belong to Woolwich. I died on... of..., and you must attend me.’

“I then remarked that the past tense had been used, and cried out:

“ ‘Stop! You said died, and the day you mentioned has not come yet?’

“At which they both smiled and added: ‘We know this very well. It was done to fix your attention, but — and they seemed to say very earnestly and in a marked manner — ‘you must attend us!’ At which they disappeared, leaving me awe-stricken, surprised and thoroughly aroused from sleep.

“Whether what I narrate was seen during sleep, or when wholly awake I do not pretend to say. It appeared to me that I was perfectly awake and perfectly conscious. Of this I had no doubt at the time, and I can scarcely summon up a doubt as to what I heard and saw while I am telling it.

The Prophecy Fulfilled

“As I had lighted my lamp, I rose, dressed, and, seating myself at a table in the room, read and thought, and I need hardly say, from time to time prayed and fervently until day came.

“When I was called in the morning I sent a message to the lady of the house to say that I should not go to the University Chapel to say mass that morning, and should be present at the usual family breakfast at nine.

“On entering the dining room my hostess very kindly inquired after my health, naturally surmising that I had omitted mass from illness, or at least want of rest and consequent indisposition. I merely answered that I had not slept well, and that there was something weighing heavily upon my mind which obliged me to return at once to Woolwich.

“After the usual regrets and leave takings I started by the midday boat for England. As the first date mentioned by my visitors gave me time I traveled by easy stages, and spent more than two days on the road, although I could not remain in Dublin after I had received what appeared to me then, and appears to me still, as a solemn warning.

“On my arrival at Woolwich, as may be easily imagined, my brother clergy were very puzzled at my sudden and unlooked for return. They concluded that I had lost my reckoning, thinking that I had to resume my duties a week earlier than I was expected to do.

“The other assistant priest was waiting for my return to start in his vacation — and he did so the very evening of my return.

“Scarcely, however, had he left town when the first of my visitors sent in a request for me to go at once to attend him.

“You may, perhaps, imagine my feelings at that moment. I am sure you cannot realize them as I do even now, after the lapse of so many years.

“Well, I lost no time. I had, in truth, been prepared, except for hat and umbrella, from the first hour after my return. I went to consult the books in which all the sick calls were entered and to speak to our aged, respected sacristan who kept them. He remarked at once:

“ ‘You do not know this man, father. His children come to our school, but he is, or has always been, considered as a Protestant.’

“Expressing my surprise, less at the fact than at his statement, I hurried to the bedside of the sufferer. After the first words of introduction were over, he said:

“ ‘I sent for you father, on Friday morning early and they told me that you were away from home, but that you were expected back in a few days, and I said I would wait.’

Last Rites for the Dying

“I found the sick man had been stricken down by inflammation of the lungs, and that the doctor gave no hope of his recovery, yet that he would probably linger some days. I applied myself very earnestly indeed to prepare the poor man for death. Again the next day, and every day until he departed this life did I visit him and spent not minutes, but hours by his bedside.

“A few days after the first summons came the second. The man had previously been a stranger to me, but I recognized him by his name and appearance.

“As I sat by his bedside he told me, as the former had already done, that he had sent for me, had been told that I was absent, and had declared that he would wait for me. Thus far their cases were alike.

“In each case there was a great wrong to be undone, a conscience to be set right that had erred, and erred deeply. And not merely that — it is probable, from the circumstances of their lives, that it was necessary that their spiritual adviser should have been solemnly warned.

“They made their peace with God, and I have seldom assisted at a deathbed and felt greater consolation than I did in each and both of these.

“Even now, after the lapse of many years, I cannot help feeling that I received a very solemn warning in Dublin, and am not far wrong in calling it The Shadow of Death.—T. O. Fleming.”

A Notorious House

Is it possible that, even in this life, the spirit is able to dissociate itself from the body and go to the place where the thoughts of the mind are directed?

It is reported in history that Sir Robert Peel and his brother both saw Lord Byron in London in 1810, at a time when he was, in fact, lying dangerously ill at Patras. During the same fever Byron also appeared to others, and was even seen to write his name among the inquirers after the king’s health.

Even more remarkable, in a way, were the experiences of Samuel Wilberforce, the noted Bishop of Winchester, whose name is still familiar to the older people of this generation. They shall be related in another article, together with the story of the Seaforth curse and its dread workings down through the centuries. But the remainder of the cases given in this article shall be concerning places in this country.

One of them was the old Seward mansion in Washington, District of Columbia, over which a malignant spirit seemed to hover like an evil blight. The account which follows is quoted from a clipping of the New York Sun, dated February 3, 1890. The facts which it mentions are public history and can easily be verified.

“The house stands on Lafayette Square. It was built before the Civil War, and one of its earliest occupants was Secretary Spencer. Upon his family the evil spirits of the house first visited their fate.

“The secretary’s son was a lieutenant in the navy, and while his father lived in the house, the son was hanged to the yardarm of his ship for his alleged participation in a mutiny.

“Then the Washington Club had the place during the Buchanan administration. The men about town belonged to the club, and Philip Barton Key, the reckless, adventurous District Attorney of the District of Columbia, was one of the members.

“There had long been talk connecting him with the handsome wife of General Sickles, then a Representative in Congress. The Sickles house was on Lafayette Square also, and one Sunday morning, when the sun was shining, a handkerchief was seen fluttering from one of the windows in the house of General Sickles.

“Young Key answered it, and then stepped buoyantly up the square. Sickles, who had seen the signals, caught him in front of the house, and in a moment Key lay on the walk wounded to death. It is only a few years since the tree against which he fell was cut down.

“Secretary Seward next occupied the place. On April 14, 1865, while he lay sick in bed, a man came to the house saying that he had been ordered to bring some medicine and deliver it in person to Mr. Seward.

Leased by Mr. Blaine

“This was denied him. But the stranger knocked down Frederick W. Seward and a servant, rushed into the secretary’s room, and tried to kill him with a dagger. He was captured, but he escaped and rode off on his horse, which had been standing in the street.

“He was identified as Lewis Payne, and after a time he was caught and put to death. The War Department, fearing that other attempts might be made to assassinate Mr. Seward, ordered that a sentry patrol before the house night and day. This was done, and was continued for four years, even though for a long part of that time the Sewards were not there.

“Next, the mansion was taken by Secretary Belknap. He had not been there long before his wife died.

“That ended the occupancy of the house as a residence. The government rented it and used it for the Commissary General’s office. When the Commissary General’s staff was moved to the new building of the War Department the house was left vacant.

“No one dared to face the evil fates by taking it until it was leased by Mr. Blaine — Secretary of State James G. Blaine.

“He tore down the partitions that made rooms where the Seward assassination had occurred, and with a lavish spending of money transformed the musty old office apartments, and made them beautiful with the furnishings of a rich man’s home.

“There were fears of calamity overtaking him or his family when it was announced that he had leased the old building. Gossip, superstitious and tragic, was heard among all who knew the history of the place. Had it been a haunted house, had ghosts been seen there in convention, there could not have been more talk.

A Plan of the Dwelling

“Some folks there were, though, who believed that the luck of Blaine would offset everything, but finally when the family of the Secretary of State gave a reception to their hosts of friends, and the rooms were filled with a gay, fortune-favored throng, the protestants against superstition declared that the spell, if ever there was any, was broken.

“Yet, within a week the eldest son of the secretary, Walker Blaine, fell sick and died. That made talk about the house, and people said it was an unlucky spot. Now Mrs. Coppinger, Blaine’s daughter, is dead, and once more the story of calamity is told.

“There may be something, there may be nothing in the tale of a curse, but certain it is that if the house were in the real estate market to-day, it would be long before it got a taker.

“To those who go there now, the decorations seem like those of a tomb, and men want to know what will be next in the series of misfortunes that appear to come to those who inhabit this historic home.”

The writer has not had the opportunity to trace the history of this house beyond the date given above, and consequently is not able to say whether or not the “curse” or spirit hovering over the place continued to exert its malignant influence.

The following case comes from Mr. Wilfred Ward and Lord Tennyson — for whom it was first written. The account was sent to the English Society of Psychical Research by Mrs. Pennee of St. Anne de Beaupre, Quebec, daughter of the late William Ward — a Conservative M. P. — and a sister of the late Rev. A. B. Ward of Cambridge.

At the time she wrote it out for Lord Tennyson, in 1884, Mrs. Pennee was living at Weston Manor, Freshwater, Isle of Wight. But the occurrences which she relates took place in Canada.

“It was in the year 1856,” she wrote, “that my husband took me to live at a house called Binstead, about five miles from Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. It was a good-sized house, and at the back had been considerably extended to allow for extra offices, since there were about two hundred acres of farm land around it, necessitating several resident farming men.

“Although forming part of the house, these premises could only be entered through the inner kitchen, as no wall had ever been broken down to form a door or passage from upstairs. Thus the farming men’s sleeping rooms were adjacent to those occupied by the family and visitors, although there was no communication through the upstairs corridor.

The Woman and the Ashes

“About ten days after we had established ourselves at Binstead we commenced hearing strange noises. For many weeks they were of a very frequent occurrence, and were heard simultaneously in every part of the house, always appearing to be in close proximity to each person.

“The noise was more like a rumbling, which made the house vibrate, like that produced by dragging a heavy body which one so often hears in ghost stories.

“As spring came on we began to hear shrieks. They would grow fainter or louder as if some one was being chased around the house. But always they would culminate in a volley of shrieks, sobs, moans, and half uttered words, proceeding from beneath a tree that stood a little distance from the dining room window.

“The branches of this tree nearly touched the window of one of the spare bedrooms upstairs, immediately adjacent to the men’s sleeping quarters. It was in February — I think — 1857, that the first apparition came under my notice. Two ladies were sleeping in this spare bedroom.

“Of course for that season of the year a fire had been lighted in the grate, and the fireplace really contained a grate, and not an American substitute for one.

“About two o’clock Mrs. M. was awakened by a bright light which pervaded the room. She saw a woman standing by the fireplace. On her left arm was a young baby, and with her right hand she was stirring the ashes, over which she was slightly stooping.

Previous Visits

“Mrs. M. pushed Miss C. to awaken her, and just then the figure turned her face toward them, disclosing the features of quite a young woman with a singularly anxious, pleading look upon her face. They took notice of a little check shawl which was crossed over her bosom.

“Miss C. had previously heard some tales about the house being haunted — which neither Mrs. M. nor I had ever heard — so, jumping to the conclusion that she beheld a ghost, she screamed and pulled the bedclothes tightly over the heads of herself and her companion.

“The following spring I went home to England. But just before starting I had my own experience of seeing the ghost. I had temporarily established myself in the same room.

“One evening, finding my little daughter — now Mrs. Amyot — far from well, I had her bed wheeled in beside mine, that I might attend to her. About twelve o’clock I got up to give her some medicine, and was feeling for some matches when she called my attention to a light shining under the door.

“I exclaimed that it was her papa, and threw open the door to admit him. I found myself face to face with a woman.

“She had a baby on her left arm, a check shawl crossed over her bosom, and all around her shone a bright pleasant light, whence emanating I could not say. Her look at me was one of entreaty, almost agonizing entreaty.

“She did not enter the room, but moved across the staircase, vanishing into the opposite wall exactly where the inner manservant’s room was situated. Neither my daughter nor myself felt the slightest alarm; at the moment it appeared to be a matter of common occurrence.

“When Mr. Pennee came upstairs and I told him what we had seen, he examined the wall, the staircase, the passage, but found no trace of anything extraordinary. Nor did my dogs bark.

“On my return from England in 1858 I was informed that ‘the creature had been carrying on,’ but it was the screams that had been the worst. It was always in or near the sleeping apartment adjacent to the men’s that the apparition was seen, and as that was one of our spare bedrooms, it may frequently have been unperceived.

“Harry, one of the farm servants, had several visits from it, but would tell no particulars. I never could get Harry to tell me much. He acknowledged that the woman had several times stood at the foot of his bed, but he would not tell me more.

More About Binstead

“One night Harry had certainly been much disturbed in mind, and the other man heard voices and sobs. Nothing would ever induce Harry to let any one share his room, and he was most careful to fasten his door.

“At the time I attached no importance to ‘his ways,’ as we called them.

“In the autumn of the following year, 1859, my connection with Binstead ceased, for we gave up the house and returned to Charlottetown. I left Prince Edward Island in 1861 and went to Quebec.

“In 1877 I happened to return to the island and spent several months there. One day I was at the bishop’s residence when the parish priest came in with a letter in his hand.

“He asked me about my residence at Binstead, and whether I could throw any light on the contents of his letter.

“It was from the wife of the then owner of Binstead, asking him to come out and try to deliver them from the ghost of a young woman with a baby in her arms, who had appeared several times.

“After I went to live in Charlottetown I became acquainted with the following facts which seem to throw light on my story:

“The ground on which Binstead stood had been cleared about 1840 by a rich Englishman, who had built a very nice house. Getting tired of colonial life, he sold the property to a man whose name I forget, but I will call Pigott — that was like the name.

“He was a man of low tastes and immoral habits, but a capital farmer. It was he who added all the back wing to the house and made the necessary divisions, et cetera, for farming the land.

The Phantom Child

“He had two sisters in his service, the daughters of a laborer who lived in a regular hovel about three miles nearer town. After a time each sister gave birth to a boy.

“Very little can be learned of the domestic arrangements, since Pigott bore so bad a name that the house was avoided by respectable people. But it is certain that one sister and one baby disappeared altogether, although when and how is a complete mystery.

“When the other baby was between one and two years old Piggot sold Binstead to an English gentleman named Fellows, from whom we later hired it with the intention of eventually buying it.

“The sister returned to her father’s house, and, leaving the baby with her mother, Mrs. Newbury, went to the States and has never returned. Before leaving she would reveal nothing except that the boy was her sister’s, her own being dead.

“It was this very Harry Newbury that we had unwittingly engaged as a farm servant when we leased the place years later.

“He came to bid me farewell a few months after I left Binstead, saying that he would never return there. In 1877 I inquired about him, and found that he had never been seen since.”

Even more eerie is the record of the phantom child which haunts Block Island, fifteen miles off the shore of Rhode Island. According to the account given, a young woman, returning from a ball at Sandy Point on a crisp fall evening a hundred years ago, gave birth to a child on the way and strangled it, hiding its body in an empty hay crib by the roadside.

Old residents of Block Island claim that its doleful cry is still to be heard in the gray afternoons when the wind whistles across the Clay Head. As the wind pipes up low at first, but getting shriller, the infant’s wail increases in intensity, ending in a shriek a little higher and wilder than the blast.

There is a reasonable suspicion that this wail may be the product of the imagination of the people who claim to have heard it. But there can be no doubt as to the authenticity of the appearance of the phantom ship, the Palatine. This ship has been seen by too many people who are not of a suspicious type, and who have not hesitated to let their names be known.

The story of the Palatine, the ship lured on the rocky coast of Block Island by false beacons during the last century, and afterward pillaged and fired by the islanders, is probably familiar to the readers of Dana and Whittier.

Since then the ship is said to appear at irregular intervals, portending disaster to the descendants of those who were suspected of wrecking and robbing her.

The Ship on Fire

The phantom ship was last seen on February 9, 1880. On that occasion the apparition was seen by more than fifty people on different parts of the island. Among them were United States Senator Nathan F. Dixon, the Dodges, Isaac Church, Captain Dickens and his family and relatives, and others not so well and favorably known in that section.

The following description of its appearance was given to a New York Times reporter by Mrs. Rose, one of the residents of the island:

“The evening twilight was setting in, and the sea was glassy and unruffled. It was almost a dead calm on Block Island Sound.

“I was on my veranda, which faces the north, when I noticed the windows shining as though a great bonfire was reflected on them. I turned toward the ocean and saw a great ship come sailing out from behind Clay Head, to the north, and glide swiftly over the sea in the direction of Newport.

“I was surprised to see that every sail was set, and she was bending under her canvas as though driven before a strong wind, while there was apparently no wind elsewhere on the Sound.

“I was still more astonished that she appeared to be all on fire, from the water’s edge to her highest sail, and that the flames seemed to leap up toward the gray sky. The sea around her was lit up with the radiance.

“The strangest thing was that the flames seemed to have no effect on the ship, and, though she was in sight for nearly fifteen minutes, her sails were not consumed. The vessel glided swiftly eastward, and disappeared slowly from view.

“As soon as I saw the Palatine I knew that something dreadful was going to happen, and I told my neighbor so as soon as I could.

“Only four days later a party of young Block Islanders, descendants of those who wrecked the ship, were drowned in Newport Harbor.”

The accounts of this flaming phenomenon were so authentic that several years later a group of scientific men went out to Block Island to investigate it.

They gathered evidence from a score of islanders, consulted together, and then offered a natural explanation that was even more absurd than any which had been advanced by those who believe in the supernatural.

“Haunts of the Invisible” will be continued in an early issue of Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction