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| An 1861 painting of Amazon (later renamed Mary Celeste) by an unknown artist (perhaps Honoré Pellegrin |
Ghost ships are one of the most enduring legends of the sea, and tales of mysterious ships with missing crews have peppered the accounts of mariners both ancient and modern for hundreds of years. Some ghost ships exist in the realm of rumor, others are real but remain unexplained.
One of the most famous actual ghost ships – “ghostly” at least – is the Mary Celeste. A 282-ton brigantine merchantman built in 1861, the Mary Celeste left New York City on November 5, 1872, on what would be her fateful final voyage. Exactly one month later, sailors on the Dei Gratia spied the Mary Celeste in the eastern Atlantic Ocean heading in the direction of the Strait of Gibraltar. Aside from several torn sails and a missing lifeboat, the ship was in relatively good condition… what it was without, was a captain and crew.
Mary Celeste, with a history of misfortune, was said to be "cursed" even before she was discovered derelict with no apparent explanation, a classic ghost ship. In 1885, Mary Celeste was destroyed when her last owner intentionally wrecked her off the coast of Haiti in an attempt to commit insurance fraud.
Departure
On 5 November 1872, under command of Captain Benjamin Briggs, Mary Celeste docked on the East River of New York City and took on board a cargo of 1,701 barrels of commercial alcohol intended for fortifying Italian wines on behalf of Meissner Ackermann & Co. The cargo was worth approximately $35,000 and the ship and cargo together were insured for $46,000. Mary Celeste then set sail from Staten Island for Genoa, Italy.
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| Captain Benjamin Briggs |
The crew for this voyage included a Dane, two Americans (the first mate and cook), and four Germans, all of whom spoke fluent English, had exemplary records, and were considered experienced, trustworthy, and capable seamen. Briggs had spent most of his life at sea, had captained at least five ships, and had owned many more. In addition to the captain and seven crewmen, as passengers, were the wife of the captain, Sarah Briggs, who had sailed with her husband many times, and their two-year-old daughter, Sophia. Their seven-year-old son, Arthur, had been left in the care of his paternal grandmother in Marion, Massachusetts.
Before Mary Celeste left New York, Captain Briggs spoke to an old friend, David Reed Morehouse, from Nova Scotia. He was captain of the Canadian merchant ship Dei Gratia, also a brigantine. Briggs and Morehouse had served together as sailors when they were young. Briggs, Morehouse, and their wives had dinner together on the evening of 4 November. During the conversation that evening, they discovered they had a similar course across the Atlantic Ocean, through the Strait of Gibraltar and into the Mediterranean.
Morehouse was still waiting for his cargo to arrive, however, when Mary Celeste left port on 5 November. Morehouse's cargo eventually arrived, and on 15 November, Dei Gratia finally set off with 1,735 barrels (275.8 m3) of petroleum in her hold. Dei Gratia left New York harbour seven days after Mary Celeste (some sources say eight days later) had set sail.
Discovery
Sporadic bad weather had been reported in the Atlantic throughout October, although Dei Gratia encountered none and her journey across the ocean in November was uneventful. Just short of a month after leaving port, on 4 December 1872 (some accounts state 5 December, which is the equivalent date in nautical days), at approximately 1pm, the helmsman of Dei Gratia, John Johnson, sighted a ship about five miles (8 km) off their port bow through his spyglass.
Johnson discerned that there was something wrong with the other vessel. She was yawing subtly, and her sails seemed to be torn slightly. Johnson alerted his second officer, John Wright, who also assessed the ship and had the same feelings about her.
They informed the captain. As they moved closer, they saw the ship was the Mary Celeste. Captain Morehouse wondered why Mary Celeste had not reached Italy already, as she had a head start on his own ship. According to the account given by the crew of Dei Gratia, they approached to 400 yards (366m) from Mary Celeste and cautiously observed her for two hours. She was under sail, yet sailing erratically on a starboard tack, and slowly heading toward the Strait of Gibraltar. After seeing no one at the helm or even on deck, they concluded she was drifting although the ship was flying no distress signal.
Oliver Deveau, chief mate of Dei Gratia, boarded Mary Celeste. He reported that he did not find anyone on board and said that "the whole ship was a thoroughly wet mess". There was only one operational pump, two apparently having been disassembled. He also reported that there was a lot of water between decks and three and a half feet (1.1 m) of water in the hold; however, the ship was not sinking and still was seaworthy.
Except for the captain's logbook, all of the ship's papers were missing. Both the forehatch and the lazarette were open, although the main hatch was sealed. The ship's clock was not functioning and the compass was destroyed, The sextant and marine chronometer were missing. The only lifeboat that had been on the Mary Celeste, a yawl located above the main hatch, also was missing. The peak halyard, used to hoist the main sail, was missing as well. A rope, perhaps the peak halyard, was found tied to the ship very strongly. Its other end was trailing in the water behind the ship, but it was very frayed.
Deveau returned to his ship and reported to the captain. Two men, Charles Augustus Anderson and Charles Lund, then boarded Mary Celeste. The cargo of 1,701 barrels of alcohol was, Deveau reported, in good order. When it eventually was unloaded in Genoa, however, nine barrels were found to be empty.
A six-month supply of uncontaminated food and fresh water was still aboard. It appeared that the vessel had been abandoned in a hurry. The personal possessions and artifacts of the crew were found where expected, making a piracy raid seem extremely unlikely. There was no sign of a struggle, or of any sort of violence.
A fictional depiction by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is credited as popularizing the Mary Celeste mystery. In "J. Habakuk Jephson's Statement", printed anonymously in the January 1884 Cornhill Magazine, Conan Doyle presented his theory on what had happened. Doyle drew very heavily on facts surrounding the real event, but included a considerable amount of fiction, calling the fictional ship Marie Celeste, and claiming that no lifeboats were missing ("The boats were intact and slung upon the davits"). Much of Doyle's fictional content and the incorrect name—have come to dominate popular accounts of the real incident—and were even published as fact by several newspapers.
