Lighthouse on Purgatory Point
The Native Americans called it Mjumnito Senye'k, the early French explorers referred to it as roches de diable and the Spanish as rocas del diablo. Regardless of the language, the translation is the same: devil rocks. Purgatory Point, as the English settlers eventually christened it, was a narrow peninsula that jutted out into the Atlantic Ocean. Its rocky surface, half hidden below the water during times of high tide, had proved a deadly foe to many a ship sailing along the coast.
Jared and Mindy Grogan stood on the gravel driveway, staring at the towering two-hundred-foot-high lighthouse and the brick lightkeeper's quarters. Both had been abandoned when the Coast Guard opened a modern automated light farther up the coast. The Grogans then purchased the former light station on Purgatory Point from the federal government, which was only too happy to be rid of it, for there was a surplus of antiquated lighthouses along U.S. waterways, structures the Coast Guard no longer needed.
"It's going to take a lot of work to fix this place up," Mindy announced with a weary sigh.
"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts," Jared replied. "It's too late for that now."
The couple had once vacationed in the area. When they first saw the abandoned light station, they had joked about buying it, renovating the lightkeeper's house and turning it into a bed and breakfast. The Grogans, like many New Yorkers, had longed to cast aside the stress of city life and move to a more rural setting. However, they did not seriously consider making such a move until that infamous September 11 when they saw the blue sky above Manhattan eclipsed by a cloud of smoke above the wreckage of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. The following month they contacted the real estate agent and an architect, and plans for purchasing and renovating the old light station were set into motion.
With the key the realtor gave him at the closing, Jared unlocked the front door and walked into the first floor of the lightkeeper's house. The interior walls had been ripped out, exposing naked beams. The upper level of the house was in much the same shape. The rooms were empty except for the master bedroom, which held a cheap dresser and an old double bed. Once the renovations were completed, the couple would purchase new carpets, furniture and appliances from local merchants. Until that time, they would have to rough it.
"At least the plumbing works," Jared announced optimistically, as he flushed the toilet and turned on the faucets of the old porcelain sink. "And the build building inspector assured me that the heating system is in good working order."
The Grogans went to bed early that night because they knew the construction crew was scheduled to report for work at 7:00 a.m. Although the bed was comfortable and the old heating system kept him warm, Jared had difficulty falling asleep. Used to the noise of the city, he found the stillness of the light station somewhat unnerving. Even the tranquil, soporific sound of the waves breaking on the rocks did little to relax him.
Near midnight, when he finally managed to drift off into a light slumber, he was awakened by the sound of footsteps echoing down the wrought iron stairs of the lighthouse. Jared got out of bed and went to the window, hoping to catch sight of the intruder. The footsteps continued along the gravel path toward the lightkeeper's house. Yet despite the brightness of the beacon that cast artificial daylight on the grounds of the light station, he could see no one walking outside.
He was about to awaken his wife when he heard the back door open. His heart pounding, Jared grabbed his Coleman lantern and raced down the stairs. The footsteps came across the hardwood floor directly toward him, but there was no one there! As the phantom sounds drew nearer, an icy chill assailed him. He closed his eyes, frozen to the spot by fear rather than the cold temperature. The footsteps continued past him and headed for the staircase that led to the second floor. The frightened man followed the retreating echoes. He heard but did not see the door to the master bedroom open and close.
Afraid for his wife's safety, Jared barged into the room. The footsteps suddenly stopped. Mindy slept peacefully in the old double bed under the large heirloom quilt her grandmother had given them as a wedding gift.
* * *
The following day Jared took his wife by the arm and led her out to the end of Purgatory Point.
"I didn't want the workmen to hear this," he began, uncertain of how to tell Mindy about the strange phenomenon he had encountered the night before. "I ... I think I saw a ghost last night."
"You saw what?"
Mindy looked at him with skepticism coupled with humor.
"I didn't actually see it. I heard it."
He then told her about the ghostly footsteps that traveled down the stairs of the light tower, along the gravel path, inside the house and up into the master bedroom.
"You must have been dreaming," she concluded. "You know what a light sleeper I am. If someone were walking down those stairs, surely, I would have woken up."
Jared knew he had not been dreaming, but he could not convince his wife of that.
That night, although exhausted from his lack of sleep the previous night, Jared stayed awake listening for another sign of his ghostly visitor. As the midnight hour drew near, he heard the footsteps again. They were not emanating from the lighthouse, however. They were coming from inside the master bedroom. As the sound headed toward the bedroom door, Jared woke Mindy, who had been sleeping soundly next to him.
"Can you hear that?" he whispered.
"Someone's in the house," she cried, her face turning pale.
"Not anyone you can see," Jared replied.
Although frightened by the supernatural events, he went out into the hall and followed the sound of the footsteps down the stairs, out the door and along the path to the lighthouse.
Mindy, tightly clutching her fleece robe at the neck, ran up behind him.
"Is it in the tower?"
"Shhh. Listen. You can hear the footsteps going up to the top."
"Aren't you going to go in?"
"I can't. The door is locked, and the key is upstairs in the dresser drawer."
After several minutes, the footsteps became louder. The ghost was coming back down. The sound of the heavy door opening was followed by an intense gust of cold air and the scent of pipe tobacco. The chill and the smell soon disappeared, but the footsteps continued on their way along the path, through the house and up into the master bedroom.
Mindy and Jared spent the remainder of the night, sleeping in their locked car. They were awakened the following morning by the construction foreman tapping on the windshield.
"Good morning," the man called cheerfully through the glass, as though the sight of two people sleeping inside a Honda Civic was a common occurrence.
Mindy reluctantly returned to the house and and plugged in the coffeemaker.
"Guess you folks encountered the lightkeeper," the foreman said with a chuckle.
"The lightkeeper?" Jared asked with interest.
"Old Barnaby Randolph, the last keeper of the light."
Jared and Mindy exchanged guarded glances.
"It's nothing to be concerned about. Lots of folks around here have heard the lightkeeper going out to check on the light."
"They have?" Mindy asked.
The foreman nodded.
"Barnaby Randolph came to this light station as a young man with a wife and two small children. During the time he served here, his wife died. Once his kids grew up and moved on, all old Barnaby had left was the lighthouse and the ocean to keep him company. According to his log books, every night around midnight he climbed up the stairs of the tower to the watch room to check on the light and search the horizon for passing ships."
"What happened to him?" Mindy asked.
"When the Coast Guard built the new automated light, they had no further need for his services, but the eighty-seven-year-old keeper had nowhere to go. He went to bed in the master bedroom the night before he was to leave the light station, and he never woke up. Folks say he willed himself to die."
Jared was mesmerized by the tragic story.
"You said other people have heard him. Has anyone actually seen him?"
"Nope. Everybody tells the same tale: they hear footsteps going from the house to the light and back. They hear doors open and shut. They feel an icy chill and smell a strong odor of pipe tobacco, but no one has seen anything out of the ordinary."
"No one has ever been hurt here, have they?" Jared inquired.
The foreman was silent for a few moments as if debating his answer.
"Not by the lightkeeper, that's for sure. You folks have no need to worry on that account."
"Are you saying that people have been hurt here in other ways?" Mindy asked.
"Well, Ma'am, for one thing, those rocks out there are dangerous. And for another, people that live in secluded places like light stations sometimes do odd things."
"Such as?" Jared prompted.
The foreman looked at his watch and declared, "I best be getting to work, Mr. Grogan. If you're curious about this old place, you might want to check down at the local historical society. They have all sorts of newspaper clippings, books and documents relating to Purgatory Point. All the keepers' logs are kept there, too."
* * *
Jared woke early again the following morning. He and his wife spent the previous night in the house but had moved the bed to a smaller room down the hall. Again, they heard Barnaby Randolph's footsteps at midnight, but this time they listened with wonder rather than fear.
"I think I'll go into town today," Mindy announced as the Grogans drank their coffee. "I want to see what the shops have in the way of drapes, linens and such."
"I'll go with you."
"But you hate to go shopping!"
"While you're browsing through the stores, I'm going to take a look at the information the historical society has on the light station."
Armed with pencil and paper to take notes, Jared scanned the society's newspaper articles, which had been stored on microfiche. Three and a half hours later he joined his wife at a local diner for lunch.
"Are you feeling all right, honey?" Mindy asked with concern. "You're as white as a sheet."
"I'll tell you about it after we eat."
They ordered a fisherman's sampler for two, and while they ate, Mindy carried on a one-sided conversation about interior decor. After they left the restaurant, Jared suggested they go for a walk.
"What did you find out?" his wife asked.
"That Purgatory Point has one hell of a history—no pun intended. The first recorded incident happened in 1823. The Seadog left port in Boston where it had unloaded several dozen barrels of Jamaican rum and then continued toward its ultimate destination, Savannah. It never made it there; it ran aground on Purgatory Point, killing the crew and its main cargo: two hundred and thirty-eight slaves bound for southern cotton fields."
"Oh, no! How horrible!"
"The destruction of the Seadog resulted in the building of the lighthouse. However, the rocks weren't the only danger. Isolation claimed its share of lives in the light station's long history. In 1850 a young keeper assigned to the station arrived with his new wife, a pretty girl from Philadelphia. Although the two were deeply in love, the bride, used to the hustle and bustle of the city, could not adjust to the solitude. She became despondent, and the lightkeeper, who feared for her sanity, bought her a piano, which he had shipped all the way from Pennsylvania. The only problem was there was only one piece of music sent with the piano. The young woman played it over and over and over, day in and day out. Eventually, the song seemed to possess her; she pounded the keys so forcefully her fingers would bleed."
"So, the poor girl went mad anyway?"
"Apparently, so did the lightkeeper. No one knows exactly what happened, but one evening the light burned out. When a group of townspeople went to see what was wrong, they found the piano reduced to a pile of kindling wood. The lightkeeper had taken an axe to it and also to his pretty young bride. After he murdered his wife, he then shot himself."
Mindy was horrified.
"That happened in our house?"
"No. Our house was built later, on the grounds of the original lightkeeper's house."
"Is there anything else I should know about Purgatory Point?"
"A pirate was killed during a battle with the British Navy that happened nearby. To make sure he was dead, the British captain cut off the brigand's head and tossed it into the Atlantic. Legend has it that the severed head washed ashore near the lighthouse."
"Drowned slaves, axe murderers and headless pirates. I'm not sure I want to hear anymore."
Undeterred, Jared looked at his notes and continued.
"During the Civil War, the Union Army fenced off the area and used it as a prison camp. Hundreds of Confederate soldiers died here from badly tended wounds, starvation and various diseases. The Yankee officers commandeered the light and the keeper's house. For security reasons the lighthouse was temporarily put out of service, and a lightship was anchored in the harbor to warn approaching vessels. One night the harbor remained dark, so two officers rowed out to the ship where they discovered that the men stationed there had vanished without a trace. After that, the prisoners were moved to another camp, and the lighthouse was put back into service.
"Not long after the Civil War, two new lightkeepers were assigned to Purgatory Point. The head lightkeeper was a married man, and his assistant was a bachelor. The two men, who had been good friends for years before being assigned to this station, argued frequently and bitterly. Rumor had it that the head lightkeeper was insulted by his assistant's constant attention to his wife. One day their argument proved fatal; the head lightkeeper was found shot through the skull. The assistant was tried for murder, claiming self-defense. The jury must have had a reasonable doubt because he was acquitted.
"The next lightkeeper fared no better. He was a widower with two daughters, ages twelve and fourteen. The girls drowned while swimming in the shallow water near the base of the light. When the father discovered their bodies, he went home and hanged himself in the basement. Not long after his suicide lightning struck the dome of the lighthouse. The fire company arrived and managed to save the light, but the keeper's house was destroyed. Repairs were made to the light, and electricity was installed. Also, a new keeper's house, the one we own, was built."
"And, thus, another lightkeeper came to Purgatory Point?"
"Yes, and he shared the misfortune of his predecessors, I'm afraid. This man, who already had two failed marriages, wed a woman fifteen years his junior. At first, they were quite happy here, but eventually, the woman grew bored. One day a ship dropped anchor off Purgatory Point, and the captain came ashore for fresh water. He stayed for a week, after which time, he and the lightkeeper's young wife left aboard his vessel. The keeper climbed to the top of the light, jumped off the gallery and landed on the rocks below. And then...."
"Enough!" Mindy cried, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't want to hear one more tale of murder or suicide connected with the place. As it is, I doubt I'll ever have a decent night's sleep under that roof."
* * *
The renovations continued on schedule. Soon the bed and breakfast was ready to open for business. Jared and Mindy decided that rather than try to keep the ghost of Barnaby Randolph a secret from prospective guests, they would advertise its presence. They would make the most of the tragedies that had taken place at Purgatory Point, hoping to attract the curious and those interested in the paranormal.
On the evening before the B&B's official opening, Jared installed a new sign at the entrance to the driveway leading to the gravel parking lot. The lighted wooden sign featured a likeness of the lighthouse above the words THE HAUNTED LIGHT AT PURGATORY POINT.
While her husband was cementing in the signposts, Mindy was placing fresh towels and bars of scented soap in all four of the bathrooms. Then she examined the bedrooms for the third time that day, straightening pictures on the walls, checking the dressers for dust, adjusting the pillows and smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in the bedspreads.
"Will you relax?" Jared said with mild exasperation. "Everything looks fine."
"I'm just so nervous. What if the guests don't like it here? Or...."
"Or what?" he prompted.
"What if they come here expecting to encounter the ghost and our lightkeeper doesn't show up at midnight?"
"That's not very likely. He's come every night since we arrived here."
"I know, but what if all the people scare him off?"
"It wasn't so long ago that you were worried the ghost would scare the customers away."
After an early dinner, Mindy and Jared read for a while and then called it a night. Neither one could fall asleep, for they were both too excited about the opening of their business. They had left their home in New York and invested all their savings in purchasing and renovating the old light station. Their future depended upon its success.
The Grogans lay in bed and talked quietly for over an hour. All of a sudden, the room was plunged into darkness.
"Damn it!" Jared swore. "Of all the times for that old light to go out."
"Can you fix it?" Mindy asked hopefully.
"I hope so."
He turned on the bedroom lamp, found a flashlight and headed outside, with Mindy following on his heels. As they walked along the gravel path, they felt a blast of icy air.
"It can't be midnight already," Mindy said, assuming it was the ghostly presence of Barnaby Randolph.
"I don't hear anything," Jared replied.
Then, instead of the familiar footsteps, came the sound of piano music, as the frigid breeze grew in intensity.
"What's going on?" Mindy shouted above the howling wind and eerie notes of the piano.
Jared had no answer.
Suddenly, the night was alive with supernatural activity. Only this time, the phenomena were visual in nature. In front of the Grogans' terrified eyes, the semi-transparent bodies of two young girls washed up on the rocks of Purgatory Point. Mindy screamed. Before her wail echoed back, a ghostly lightkeeper threw himself off the gallery. On the ground beside his fallen corpse was the body of a second lightkeeper, the one who had been shot by his young assistant. Behind them both, emerging from the dark sea, were the ranks of half-starved Confederate soldiers who were once held captive on the grounds.
"No!" Mindy wailed.
She turned to run back to the comparative safety of the keeper's house, but the path was blocked by the decapitated body of a pirate, holding his head in his hand.
The terrified woman shook her head, desperately hoping that her denial would banish the phantoms. But they did not disappear; instead, they drew closer.
"Come on," Jared said, pulling her toward the light tower.
He unlocked and opened the heavy iron door, and they carefully climbed the long, circular staircase up to the watch room. Once there, Jared shone his flashlight beam into the Fresnel lens.
"Whoever or whatever tried to destroy the lantern did a damn good job. The bulb is gone, and all the wiring has been ripped out. There's nothing left but the lens. We'll have to have the entire light replaced."
"Are you crazy? Do you think I intend to stay here now?"
Jared sighed and shook his head. He turned to see that a strange light had appeared on the water below.
"Look out there," he cried.
It was the old Civil War-period lightship and its ghostly crew of Union soldiers. Its beam was dim yet bright enough to illuminate the bodies of dead African slaves and crewmen from the Seadog, as they floated to shore with the tide.
Mindy turned away in horror and glimpsed through the basement window of the lightkeeper's house, the body of a man hanging from the end of a rope. Unable to bear any more, she fell to the floor, sobbing with fear. Jared sat beside his frightened wife, trying to comfort and protect her. They clung tightly to each other in love and fear.
Above his wife's pitiful sobs, Jared heard the familiar sound of footsteps. He stood up, thinking he would at last catch a glimpse of Barnaby Randolph. The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Jared and Mindy heard the sound of the door opening, but once again the lightkeeper was invisible. Only the sound of his footsteps, the chill in the air and the smell of his tobacco gave evidence of his presence. The footsteps made their way across the watch room and stopped in front of the lantern. The Grogans were then taken by surprise when the lantern's beacon shone blindingly around them.
"It's impossible!" Jared exclaimed, shielding his eyes from the powerful beam. "There's no wiring. No bulb."
"Can anything we've seen tonight be possible?" Mindy asked as she listened to the footsteps of the lightkeeper going back down the stairs.
Jared stood up and looked outside at the grounds of the old light station, not knowing what to expect. The lighthouse beam once again cast false daylight on the grounds. All the phantoms they had seen earlier were gone.
Slowly, the Grogans descended the circular stairs of the tower. Once at the bottom, Mindy stood trembling on the gravel path, afraid to enter the lightkeeper's house.
"I can't go back in there," she cried.
"Wait here," her husband instructed.
In what seemed like an eternity, but was actually no more than fifteen minutes, Jared returned, carrying two hastily packed suitcases, Mindy's purse, his wallet and the keys to the Honda.
"We can send for the rest of our stuff later," he said, opening the car door.
As Jared backed out of the driveway, the Honda's high beams cast their light on the remains of the sign that he had proudly erected only hours earlier.
"What do you suppose happened to it?" Mindy asked.
"It looks like someone hacked it to pieces with an axe."
Mindy suppressed a shiver. Jared turned on the heat and pulled the car over onto the shoulder so that they could change out of their pajamas. Then, he returned to the road and drove toward I-95, the most direct route back to New York.
This story is based on actual tales of reportedly haunted lighthouses. I have used these tales to describe the one fictional lighthouse in my story.
Is that my Salem at the light station? Now I know why the place is called Purgatory Point.
