Episode Transcript
[00:00:10] Speaker A: Good evening. Welcome to the Boo Review. I'm Jill Stanley. In tonight's edition of the Boo Review, we take you back to the frosty days of January, 1851, when a schooner embarks on a fishing expedition to the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. Based on the rising sun, Maryland's Midland Journal article, dated Friday, January 4, 1895, which chronicles eyewitness accounts of a phantom ship named the Palatine Light that has forever marks its name in the annals of maritime lore. For more on this exhilarating exploration of bravery, adventure, and seafaring tradition, please welcome Jennifer James at the Bulletin desk. Jennifer.
[00:00:59] Speaker B: Thanks, Jill.
The Grand banks of Newfoundland have been known as some of the world's richest fishing grounds for centuries, drawing sailors from across the Atlantic. However, this part of the ocean is also known for its sudden storms, which have claimed many ships fishing in its waters. Captains are always wary, balancing the risk with the possible rewards.
In 1851, the ptarmigan, a fishing schooner out of Boston, Massachusetts, headed out to the grand banks in bright sunshine. One of a fleet of seven ships, the Ptarmigans spent ten days filling its hold with fresh code. The fishing was so good they were prepared to return to port five days early. But on the evening of the 10th day, the weather changed without warning.
Strong offshore winds shook the ptarmigan, while high waves battered her hull and a thick sea fog surrounded her.
By the time night fell, she was completely separated from the rest of the fleet, alone in the tumultuous seas, hidden by fog and frozen in the howling winds, the captain ordered all but the very smallest sails to be lowered to protect the ship and to keep it from foundering or being blown too far out to sea, the ptarmigan was tossed in the storm. Surrounded in fog, blinded, the crew feared colliding with another ship and fired rockets at regular intervals and rang the ship's bell to alert nearby ships of their presence.
However, for most of that night, they nearly heard nor saw any signs of life around them.
Then, on the last watch of the night, with less than an hour before morning, the lookout spotted a ship's light close by. Although the distance was hard to tell in the fog, the light looked strange, a pale blue, and it seemed to bob and weave in an irregular way. The crew gathered on the deck to observe this unusual behavior. The captain hoped that they could make out the vessel by dawn, but even in daylight, the shape of the other vessel could not be seen, only that single blue light. The captain ordered the signal gun fired, and moments later came an answering shot from the other ship. As the other ship grew closer, they could hear the ship's bell, as well as faint sounds of voices carrying over the wind. Although the crew could not make out what the voices said or even what language was being spoken, the veteran sailors aboard the ptarmigan took one look at this eerie blue light shining through the dense fog and swore this strange vessel was a phantom ship, the Palatine light, which sometimes stalked vessels sailing between Long island and Newfoundland.
Among the thong of worried sailors on deck watching that blue light, there was one ship's mate, James Sullivan by name, who claimed he had seen the Palatine light himself several years before, in 1833, while on a fishing schooner called the Arklow in the Labrador Sea.
She sailed along with us for days, he said. Sometimes her blue signal light was ahead of us, and sometimes behind us on one side or the other, but she never left us until we were about to make port in Providence. Sullivan described how the crew of the Arklow had been filled with fear that some evil fate would befall them, and many said prayers and made the sign of the cross.
One man went so far as to carve part of the Lord's prayer on the hall down in the hold our father, who art in heaven, in hopes of warning any evil away, whether prayers spoken or carved, did any good, who could say? But the Palatine light did them no harm that night, and the Arklow reached port in safety. But when she sailed again for the grand banks, it was with an entirely new crew, from the captain to the cabin boy. Not a man who saw the ghost ship from the Arclo's deck would dare sail on that schooner again.
Be glad, boys, Sullivan laughed darkly. Be glad that we are all not seeing this phantom ship today aboard the old Arklow, or we would all be doomed.
The other veteran sailors agreed. To see a phantom was always considered an omen of dread and danger, and no one would risk sailing aboard a ship on which they had seen one.
Still, the ptarmigan's crew grew more worried with the tales of ghost ships, and many sailors prayed or made the sign of the cross.
Abruptly, the fog lifted, and the crew could see the other ship clearly for the first time.
It was massive and old, and where the crew of the Ptarmigan had taken down almost all of their sails in the storm, the other ship had a every inch of sail raised before the wind. Now, normally, if a sailing ship would do this in the midst of such a gale as they now found themselves, its sails would quickly tear to shreds, its masts would crack and split, and the wooden planking of the deck itself might crack apart.
Such a ship would be doomed. But the large ship didnt seem to be suffering any of the ill effects from the powerful winds.
The ptarmigan withstood the storm for hours. Strange vessel, their only company. It flew no flag, and not a single sailor was to be seen aboard. Filling the crew of the ptarmigan with increasing unease, the captain ordered the signal gun fired, but there was no answering shot from the other ship this time, and no Bella nor sounds of voices. The other ship made no sound they could hear over the roar of the wind and the crash of the sea. The wind kicked up, screaming like a banshee howl, and the ptarmigan shuddered as it was struck by a massive freak wave. A wall of water washed over the side and hammered the helpless sailors gathered on the deck.
The lucky ones were smashed violently against the tilting deck, left with bloody wounds and broken bones. But the unlucky ones, several of them, including none other than James Sullivan, were caught in the swirling waters and dragged screaming over the rail and into the churning sea.
Those few left aboard swore they saw scores of white hands in the wave, clawing at the men and dragging them into the deeps.
As the ptarmigan righted herself, the lookout made a dreadful cry, which chilled the remaining crew more than the drenching winds and waves.
They saw the shapes of their missing crewmen struggling and crying out for rescue. Held on the deck of the phantom ship by phantom seamen, the ghost ship then turned and headed away from the ptarmigan.
As quickly as they had risen, the winds diminished. Many of the survivors rushed in a panic, tended to the wounded, and cried out for their lost comrades, while others fell upon the deck and shouted prayers and entreaties to their savior that the dreaded ghost ship would not send another wave to claim the rest of them. The captain raced below and pounded whiskey and grog until he was reckless enough to pursue the ghost ship. Holding their captured brethren.
The crew raised sails and flew along before the wind, but they could get no closer to the phantom. Try as hard as they might, with each minute it pulled further and further away.
Suddenly, the white ghost ship's sails shuddered and she lurched forward. Moments later, she seemed to sink straight down into the swirling seas, carrying the doomed crewmen with it.
In 10 seconds, she was gone forever.
The ptarmigan and its survivors made their way to port, glad to be left among the living and grieving those whom the sea had taken. The shocked survivors placed a graveyard marker to commemorate those lost crewmen of the ptarmigan taken in the stormy seas by the Palatine light.
The ptarmigan itself needed extensive repairs and refitting, along with the hiring of a new crew.
As workmen aboard the ptarmigan repaired her. One man chanced upon a hurried note carved some years before into the hull, hidden underneath some water barrels, it read, our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. 1833 back to you Jill.
[00:11:00] Speaker A: Sensational. Thank you so much, Jennifer. As we come to the close of tonight's broadcast, I'd like to leave you with a poignant quote from the Midland Journal.
These stories of ships that never return are sad enough, but it's the ships that never leave any port that a sailor can never forget. The memory of ghost ships. Stay with them always.
This concludes tonight's boo review. Thank you for listening. Until next time, good night.
This has been a common mystics media production in association with access paranormal story by Dennis Brose edited by Brian Thomas of Yokai Audio. For more common mystics, check out our website, commonmystics.net. follow us on our socials at Common Mystics pod. Listen in wherever you're hearing your favorite podcast. Please download and share. Thank you so.
