Ghost ships have long captured the imagination of people. These are vessels that are found adrift or abandoned at sea with no crew on board. Ghost ships can be traced back to the early days of seafaring, and their mysterious nature has led to many stories and legends surrounding them. The history of ghost ships is a long and varied one, with accounts of abandoned vessels dating back centuries. Despite the supernatural connotations of ghost ships, they have had a significant impact on the maritime industry.
The discovery of abandoned vessels can lead to investigations into safety and security practices, and the recovery of valuable cargo from these ships can be a lucrative business. These ships are often believed to be cursed, abandoned, or lost at sea, and sightings of them have been reported throughout history.
The fate of the captain and crew of the Mary Celeste remains one of the most enduring maritime mysteries in history. The mystery may very well have been left alone had author Arthur Conan Doyle not written the 1884 short story “J. Habakuk Jephson’s Statement,” a fictitious account of an ex-slave who captures a ship called the Marie Celeste. The story reignited interest in the ship, but as a theory, the story is entirely baseless.
The keel of the future ‘Mary Celeste’ was laid in late 1860 at the shipyard of Joshua Dewis in the village of Spencer’s Island, on the shores of the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia. The ship was constructed of locally felled timber, with two masts, and was rigged as a brigantine. She was launched on May 18, 1861, given the name ‘Amazon’, and registered at nearby Parrsboro on June 10, 1861. Her registration documents described her as 99.3 feet in length, 25.5 feet broad, with a depth of 11.7 feet, and of 198.42 gross tonnage. She was owned by a local consortium of nine people, headed by Dewis; among the co-owners was Robert McLellan, the ship’s first captain.
For her maiden voyage in June 1861, Amazon sailed to Five Islands, Nova Scotia to take on a cargo of timber for passage across the Atlantic to London. After supervising the ship’s loading, Captain McLellan fell ill; his condition worsened. The Amazon returned to Spencer’s Island where McLellan died on June 19, 1861. Then, John Nutting Parker took over as captain, and resumed the voyage to London, in the course of which Amazon encountered further misadventures. She collided with a fishing equipment in the narrows off Eastport, Maine, and after leaving London ran into and sank a brig in the English Channel. Parker remained in command for two years, during which Amazon worked mainly in the West Indies trade. She crossed the Atlantic to France in November 1861,and in Marseille was the subject of a painting, possibly by Honoré de Pellegrin, a well-known maritime artist of the Marseilles School. In 1863, Parker was succeeded by William Thompson, who remained in command until 1867. These were quiet years; Amazon’s mate later recalled that, “We went to the West Indies, England and the Mediterranean— what we call the foreign trade. Not a thing unusual happened.”
In October 1867, at Cape Breton Island, Amazon was driven ashore in a storm, and was so badly damaged that her owners abandoned her as a wreck. On October 15, she was acquired as a derelict by Alexander McBean, of Glace Bay, Nova Scotia. Within a month, McBean sold the wreck to a local businessman, who in November 1868, sold it to Richard
1. Haines, an American mariner from New York. Haines paid US$1,750 for the wreck, and then spent $8,825 restoring it. He made himself her captain, and, in December 1868, registered her with the Collector of the Port of New York as an American vessel, under a new name, ‘Mary Celeste’.
In October 1869, the ship was seized by Haines’s creditors, and sold to a New York consortium headed by James H. Winchester. During the next three years, the composition of this consortium changed several times, although Winchester retained at least a half- share throughout. Early in 1872, the ship underwent a major refit, costing $10,000, which enlarged her considerably. Her length was increased to 103 feet (31 m), her breadth to
25.7 feet (7.8 m) and her depth to 16.2 feet (4.9 m). Among the structural changes, a second deck was added. An inspector’s report refers to extensions to the poop deck, new transoms and the replacement of many timbers. The work increased the ship’s tonnage to 282.28. On October 29, 1872, the consortium was made up of Winchester with six shares and two minor investors with one share a piece, the remaining four of twelve shares being held by the ship’s new captain, Benjamin Spooner Briggs.
Capt. Benjamin Briggs was born in Wareham, Massachusetts, on April 24, 1835, one of five sons of sea captain Nathan Briggs. In 1862, he married his cousin Sarah Elizabeth Cobb, and enjoyed a Mediterranean honeymoon on board his schooner Forest King. Two children were born: Arthur in September 1865, and Sophia Matilda in October 1870. By the time of Sophia’s birth, Briggs had achieved a high standing within his profession. He considered retiring from the sea to go into business with his seafaring brother Oliver, who had also grown tired of the wandering life. They did not proceed with this project, but each invested his savings in a share of a ship: Oliver invested in Julia A. Hallock, and Benjamin in Mary Celeste. In October 1872, Benjamin took command of Mary Celeste for her first voyage following her extensive New York refit, which was to take her to Genoa in Italy. He arranged for his wife and infant daughter to accompany him, while his school- going son was left at home in the care of his grandmother.
Briggs chose the crew for this voyage with care. First mate Albert G. Richardson was married to a niece of Winchester and had sailed under Briggs before. Second mate Andrew Gilling, aged about 25, was born in New York, and was of Danish origin. The steward, newly married Edward William Head, was signed on with a personal recommendation from Winchester. The four general seamen were Germans from the Frisian Islands: the brothers Volkert and Boz Lorenzen, Arian Martens, and Gottlieb Goudschaal.
A later testimonial described them as “peaceable and first-class sailors.” In a letter to his mother shortly before the voyage, Briggs declared himself eminently satisfied with ship and crew. Sarah Briggs informed her mother that the crew appeared to be quietly capable “… if they continue as they have begun”. On October 20, 1872, Briggs arrived at Pier 50 on the East River in New York City to supervise the loading of the ship’s cargo of 1,701 barrels of alcohol; his wife and infant daughter joined him a week later. On Sunday,November 3, Briggs wrote to his mother to say that he intended to leave on Tuesday, adding that “our vessel is in beautiful trim, and I hope we shall have a fine passage.”
On November 7, 1872, the 282-ton brigantine set sail from New York Harbor on its way to Genoa, Italy. On board were the ship’s captain, Benjamin S. Briggs, his wife, Sarah and their 2-year-old daughter, Sophia, along with eight crew members. The 282-ton brigantine battled heavy weather for two weeks to reach the Azores, where the ship log’s last entry was recorded at 5 a.m. on November 25.
Less than a month later, on December 5, a passing Canadian Brig called Dei Gratia spotted the Mary Celeste at full sail and adrift about 400 miles east of the Azores among choppy seas, with no sign of the captain, his family or any of the crew. Aside from several feet of water in the hold and a missing lifeboat, the ship was undamaged and loaded with six months’ worth of food and water. Capt. David Morehouse was taken aback to discover that the unguided vessel was the ‘Mary Celeste’, which had left New York City eight days before him and should have already arrived in Genoa, Italy. He changed course to offer help. The mention of the vessel Dei Gratia is very important while narrating the incident of the Mary Celeste.
While Mary Celeste prepared to sail, the Canadian brigantine Dei Gratia lay nearby in Hoboken, New Jersey, awaiting a cargo of petroleum destined for Genoa via Gibraltar. Captain David Morehouse and first mate Oliver Deveau were Nova Scotians, both highly experienced and respected seamen. Captain Briggs and Morehouse shared common interests. Some accounts assert that they were close friends who dined together on the evening before Mary Celeste’s departure, but the evidence for this is limited to a recollection by Morehouse’s widow 50 years after the event. Dei Gratia departed for Gibraltar on November 15, following the same general route, eight days after Mary Celeste.
Dei Gratia had reached a position of 38°20′N 17°15′W, midway between the Azores and the coast of Portugal at about 1 p.m. on Wednesday, December 4, 1872, land time (Thursday, December 5, sea time). Captain Morehouse came on deck, and the helmsman reported a vessel heading unsteadily towards Dei Gratia at a distance of about six miles (9.7 km). The ship’s erratic movements and the odd set of her sails led Morehouse to suspect that something was wrong. As the vessel drew close, he could see nobody on deck, and he received no reply to his signals. So he sent Deveau and second mate John Wright in a ship’s boat to investigate. The pair established that this was the Mary Celeste by the name on her stern. Morehouse sent a boarding party to the ship. Below the decks, the ship’s charts had been tossed about, and the crewmen’s belongings were still in their quarters. The ship’s only lifeboat was missing, and one of its two pumps had been disassembled. Three and a half feet of water was sloshing in the ship’s bottom, though the cargo of 1,701 barrels of industrial alcohol was largely intact. There was a six-month supply of food and water—but not a soul to consume it. The first mate recorded the location of the drifting vessel as 38° 20′ north, 17° 15′ west, roughly 600 miles from the coast of Portugal. However, boarding the ship was not an easy task. Despite trying to contact the crew, not a single soul appeared to pull in the sails, and strong winds dragged the vessel.
Oliver Deveau and some other sailors thought the crew must be suffering from an epidemic, so they might have become weak and sick. However, when they finally managed to climb the ship, they were shocked to find nobody onboard! There were no signs of violence or piracy. Nothing was stolen, and the crew’s possessions and cargo were all in place. Everything was peaceful and quiet. The conditions where the ship was found added to the mystery surrounding it. They found the ship’s daily log in the mate’s cabin, and its final entry was dated at 8 a.m. on November 25, nine days earlier. It recorded Mary Celeste’s position then as 37°1′N 25°1′W off Santa Maria Island in the Azores, nearly 400 nautical miles (740 km) from the point where Dei Gratia encountered her. Deveau also saw that the cabin interiors were wet and untidy from water that had entered through doorways but were otherwise in good order. He found several personal items scattered about Briggs’ cabin, including a sheathed sword under the bed, yet most of the ship’s papers were missing along with the captain’s navigational instruments. The galley equipment was neatly stowed away; there was no food prepared or under preparation, but there were ample provisions in the stores. Deveau returned to report these findings to Morehouse, who decided to bring the derelict into Gibraltar 600 nautical miles (1,100 km) away.
Under maritime law at that era, a salvor could expect a substantial share of the combined value of rescued vessel and cargo, the exact award depending on the degree of danger inherent in the salvaging. A British vice admiralty court convened a salvage hearing, which was usually limited to determining whether the salvagers—in this case, the Dei Gratia crewmen—were entitled to payment from the ship’s insurers. But the Attorney General in charge of the inquiry, Frederick Solly-Flood, suspected mischief and investigated accordingly. Spearheading the investigation was Frederick Solly-Flood, the Attorney General of Gibraltar. He viewed the case with deep suspicion, considering foul play as a likely scenario. The initial examination of the ship revealed several points of interest. There were cuts on the ship’s rail, which Solly-Flood believed were caused by an axe. The ship’s main halyard, a crucial piece of rigging, was found tied to a makeshift sounding rod, which was unusual. These findings, combined with the missing lifeboat and navigational instruments, led Solly-Flood to believe that a criminal act had taken place. However, as the investigation progressed, many of these initial suspicions began to unravel. The cuts on the rail were determined to be old and unrelated to the crew’s disappearance. The barrels of alcohol in the cargo hold, initially suspected to have been tampered with, were found to be made of red oak, which is more porous than white oak and could have led to natural leakage. Despite the lack of concrete evidence pointing to foul play, rumours and speculations ran rampant.
The crew of the Dei Gratia, especially Captain Morehouse, faced scrutiny, with some suggesting they had orchestrated the entire event to claim salvage rights. Frederick Solly- Flood suspected that the crew may have been involved with the disappearance, even suggesting that the crew had murdered the Captain and his family. However, this theory was largely disproven when stains around the ship were discovered to not be blood, and it was re-emphasised that nothing valuable had been taken. However, these accusations were baseless. After more than three months, the court found no evidence of foul play. Eventually, the salvagers received a payment, but only one-sixth of the $46,000 for which
the ship and its cargo had been insured, suggesting that the authorities were not entirely convinced of the Dei Gratia crew’s innocence.
Thus, was born one of the most durable mysteries in nautical history. What had happened to the ten people who had sailed aboard the Mary Celeste? Through the decades, a lack of hard facts has only spurred speculation as to what might have taken place. Theories have ranged from mutiny to pirates to sea monsters to killer waterspouts. Arthur Conan Doyle’s 1884 short story based on the case posited a capture by a vengeful ex-slave, a 1935 movie featured Bela Lugosi as a homicidal sailor.
Abandoning a ship in the open sea is the last thing a captain would order, and a sailor would do. But is that what Captain Briggs ordered? If so, why?
Later, a new investigation, drawing on modern maritime technology and newly discovered documents, has pieced together the most likely scenario. Documentarian Anne MacGregor and oceanographer Phil Richardson used historical weather data to plot the ship’s course. “I love the idea of mysteries, but you should always revisit these things using knowledge that has since come to light,” says Anne MacGregor, the documentarian who launched the investigation and wrote, directed and produced The True Story of the ‘Mary Celeste,’ partly with funding from Smithsonian Networks. MacGregor’s four previous investigative documentaries, including The Hindenburg Disaster: Probable Cause (2001), applied modern forensic techniques to historical questions. “There are obvious limitations for historic cases,” she says. “But using the latest technology, you can come to a different conclusion.”.
For her Mary Celeste film, MacGregor began by asking what didn’t happen. Speculation concerning sea monsters was easy to dismiss. The ship’s condition was intact and with full cargo which seemed to rule out pirates. One theory bandied about in the 19th century held that crew members drank the alcohol onboard and mutinied; after interviewing crewmen’s descendants, MacGregor deemed that scenario unlikely. Another theory assumed that alcohol vapours expanded in the Azores heat and blew off the main hatch, prompting those aboard to fear an imminent explosion. But MacGregor notes that the boarding party found the main hatch secured and did not report smelling any fumes. True, she says, nine of the 1,701 barrels in the hold were empty, but the empty nine had been recorded as being made of red oak, not white oak like the others. Red oak is known to be a more porous wood and therefore more likely to leak. As for that homicidal sailor played by Lugosi in “The Mystery of the Mary Celeste”, he may have been drawn from two German crewmen, brothers Volkert and Boye Lorenzen, who fell under suspicion because none of their personal possessions were found on the abandoned ship. But a Lorenzen descendant told MacGregor that the pair had lost their gear in a shipwreck earlier in 1872. “They had no motive,” MacGregor says.
The ship was seaworthy. “It wasn’t flooded or horribly damaged,” says Phil Richardson, a physical oceanographer at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution in Massachusetts and an expert in derelict vessels, whom MacGregor enlisted in her investigation. “The discovery crew sailed it, so it was in really good shape.” Richardson said he would need water temperatures, wind speeds and wind directions at the time, data that MacGregor found in the International Comprehensive Ocean-Atmosphere Data Set (ICOADS), a database that stores global marine information from 1784 to 2007 and is used to study climate change. She, her yachtsman husband, Scott, and Richardson drew on the data to determine whether the Mary Celeste could have drifted from its recorded location on November 25 to where the Dei Gratia crew reported finding it on December 5. Their conclusion was that it could have sailed all by itself, even without a crew to sail it.
At that point, MacGregor considered the fact that a captain would most likely order a ship abandoned within sight of land. Since Santa Maria was the last land for hundreds of miles, it seemed safe to assume that the Mary Celeste had been abandoned the morning of November 25, after the last log entry was written. MacGregor also figured that if she could determine the precise spot from which Briggs, his family and crew abandoned ship, she might be able to shed light on why a perfectly fit vessel was abandoned. She knew from the transcriptions of the Mary Celeste’s log slate, that the ship was six miles from and within sight of, the Azores Island of Santa Maria on November 25. She knew from the testimony of the Dei Gratia crew that ten days later; the ship was some 400 miles east of the island. MacGregor asked Richardson “to work backward and create a path between these two points.”
During this point, MacGregor says, Attorney General Solly-Flood’s notes are crucial. He wrote that he saw nothing unusual about the voyage until the last five days, which is why he transcribed the ship’s log starting five days from the end. The ship’s log is believed to have been lost in 1885, so those transcriptions provided the only means for MacGregor and Richardson to plot the course and positions logged for the ship. The two then reconsidered those positions in light of ICOADS data and other information on sea conditions at the time. They concluded that Briggs was actually 120 miles west of where he thought he was, probably because of an inaccurate chronometer. By the captain’s calculations, he should have sighted land three days earlier than he did. Solly-Flood’s notes yielded one other piece of information that MacGregor and Richardson consider significant: the day before he reached the Azores, Briggs changed course and headed north of Santa Maria Island, perhaps seeking haven.
The night before the last entry in the ship’s log, the Mary Celeste again faced rough seas and winds of more than 35 knots. Still, MacGregor reasons, rough seas and a faulty chronometer wouldn’t, by themselves, prompt an experienced captain to abandon ship. Was there something else? MacGregor learned that on its previous voyage, the Mary Celeste had carried coal and that the ship had recently been extensively refitted. Coal dust and construction debris could have fouled the ship’s pumps, which would explain the disassembled pump found on the Mary Celeste. With the pump inoperative, Briggs would not have known how much seawater was in his ship’s hull, which was too fully packed for him to measure visually. So, McGregor deduced her findings that Briggs had faced enough rough weather, belatedly sighted land and confused in determining whether his ship would sink—might have issued an order to abandon ship. In this case, their destination was Santa Maria Island. Their lifeboat may have then tipped over, causing all ten of them to drown. MacGregor’s theory is by no means universally accepted or even provable, but it at least lines up with the evidence (the disassembled pump, for example) in a way that other theories do not.
But, like Attorney General Solly-Flood, MacGregor can’t leave the story of the Mary Celeste alone; she is continuing her investigation for a book. “The research goes on,” she says. “Because I have been touched by the story, as I hope other people will be.”
After the investigation in Gibraltar and the subsequent salvage hearing, the Mary Celeste resumed her life on the seas, albeit under different ownership and with a cloud of mystery forever attached to her name. Over the next 13 years, the ship would change hands multiple times, with each owner facing a series of misfortunes, further fuelling the belief that the ship was cursed. In 1874, the ship was acquired by a partnership that included Captain George Blatchford. Under his command, the Mary Celeste sailed primarily in the Indian Ocean, transporting goods between ports. However, financial difficulties plagued the venture, and by 1879, the ship was sold again. The subsequent years saw the Mary Celeste embroiled in several accidents and mishaps. These incidents, combined with the ship’s infamous history, made it increasingly difficult to secure profitable ventures or find willing crews.
By the 1880s, the ship’s reputation had significantly deteriorated, and it was largely seen as an ill-fated vessel. The final chapter in the Mary Celeste’s story came in 1885. An American named Gilman C. Parker became her last captain. Seeing no profitable future in honest trade for the ship, Parker, along with a group of conspirators, hatched a plan to deliberately wreck the Mary Celeste to claim insurance money. They loaded the ship with a worthless cargo, insured it heavily, and then intentionally ran it aground near Haiti.
The scheme, however, was quickly uncovered. Parker and his accomplices were brought to trial, but due to a lack of evidence, they were acquitted. The scandal, nonetheless, tarnished Parker’s reputation, and he faced financial ruin and public disgrace until his death.
As for the Mary Celeste, her wrecked remains lay forgotten near the Haitian coast.
The marine world has seen more than its share of ghost ship anecdotes. While some are intimidating, some are genuinely confusing. The mystery of Mary Celeste unequivocally comes into the latter cadre and is worth considering.
