The Lunenburg Werewolf Page 10

  In 1865, the newly founded Oak Island Association cleared several more tunnels and found nothing. All that they could determine was that the treasure chamber, perhaps due to the extremely heavy excavation efforts of the treasure hunts, had sunk a little deeper than they thought.

  In 1866, the Oak Island Eldorado Company built a coffer dam around the cove in hopes of cutting off the flow of sea water to the Money Pit. This effort also met with failure after an unexpected storm washed the coffer dam away.

  In 1897, a second man’s life was lost in the treasure hunt when Gold River resident Maynard Kaiser fell twenty-one metres to his death from a bucket hoist when the pulley rope slipped. His fellow workers refused to continue their labour, fearing that the Oak Island curse would kill them all one by one.

  I could go on, but suffice it to say, there have been numerous attempts to unearth the mysterious Oak Island Money Pit. From 1890 to 1958, there were a total of fourteen recorded expeditions formed and all of them failed. The area was beginning to look like a piece of Swiss cheese, so many holes and passages had been dug.

  The mystery only deepened with each new effort. The expeditions unearthed new layers of iron, coral, coconut fibre, red sand, old oak boards, and mysterious gaps and pockets. The treasure-hunters also found numerous artifacts—more pieces to the puzzle of the Money Pit. They found a scrap of parchment with writing on it, possibly in Latin, along with a quill and black ink. They found a strange stone triangle that may have been part of a seaman’s makeshift sextant. They found a pick, an anchor fluke, a miner’s seal-oil lamp, and an old axe head.

  And in 1965 they found death.

  A few years beforehand, Robert Restall, a former circus motorcycle stunt rider, along with his wife and two sons, had acquired the contract to continue explorations on Oak Island. For six years the Restall family had lived there in tents and worked with nothing more than picks and shovels. They’d re-dug the original shaft and uncovered some drainage pipes that flowed from the beach which were responsible for the continuous flooding of the Money Pit. Then, in August 1965, Restall and his oldest son and two other workers were overcome by underground gas. None of them recovered, bringing the island’s death toll to six men.

  Six men dead and still not a spit of treasure had been unearthed.

  Even the three links of gold chain, found in the auger during Jack Smith’s earlier 1849 expedition, were suspected of being planted by some worker who was eager to prolong a good-paying job.

  The Ghosts of Oak Island

  Oak Island remains a tantalizing geographical oddity—a tiny little peanut-shaped oasis at the heart of a treasure hunter’s fevered dream. But is it a paranormal oddity as well?

  Even before Jack Smith, Anthony Vaughan, and Daniel McGinnis set foot on Oak Island, locals told a tale of how it was guarded by the mysterious glowing spirits of a long-dead pirate crew. It was considered a place of bad luck—a superstition that can certainly be corroborated by the many fortunes that have been squandered there fruitlessly in search of buried treasure, and the lives that have been lost in the process.

  Long before the treasure-seekers arrived, the Mi’kmaq believed the island to be a place of bad luck. It was said that anyone who landed on the shore would burst into flame.

  Another story states that locals would not go near Oak Island because it was said to be haunted by the ghosts of two fishermen who vanished there in 1720 while investigating strange evening lights.

  Many other local folk will tell you of a strange shadowy hound with great sharp teeth and a pair of brightly glowing eyes that lives on the island. This molten-eyed, ebony-hided monster is believed to be the watchdog of Satan himself, keeping a careful blood-stained eye on the treasure.

  In 1900, nine-year-old Harris Joudrey—a native of Oak Island—was witness to this eerie hound. He and his friends had been playing a game of hide-and-seek in the nearby woods when he stumbled upon the Money Pit.

  “I saw a huge black hound,” young Harris reported afterwards. “A hound with a hide as black as the folds on the Devil’s cloak. The beast glared at me with blood red eyes that glowed like fiery coals. It growled, low and menacing, in a growl that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep below the earth.”

  The hound didn’t bite Harris.

  “It just sat there,” Harris went on. “Just growling at me like all it wanted to do was to keep me away from that Money Pit.”

  Others will tell you they have seen the spirit of an ancient man wearing a bright red frock coat. This spectre will sit upon the roots of the oak tree and wait for the approach of any treasure hunter foolish enough to ask for his advice.

  Lastly, there is an old curse that has haunted Oak Island’s Money Pit for many years. It has been said that the Oak Island treasure, if it is truly there, will not be found until the last of the oak trees has died and seven treasure hunters have died along with it.

  Well, the last of the oak trees perished several years ago, succumbing to a massive infestation of wood ants. To date, six people have perished in the hunt for the secret of the Money Pit. Will a seventh death unlock the mystery?

  What the Future Holds

  Despite a recent change in legislature that ensures that any treasure unearthed on Oak Island or anywhere else in Nova Scotia will become the property of the province, treasure hunters still haven’t given up on Oak Island.

  The latest plan to unearth the booty involves a scheme to drill a series of holes a metre apart in a ring measuring thirty metres in diameter. The holes will be drilled in such a fashion as to encircle the Money Pit. A pipe header system will then be installed in the holes and brine, chilled to freezing, will be pumped in, creating a perfect ring of frozen soil. The hope is that this frozen ring will seal off the passages that continue to pour water into the Money Pit. The price tag for this latest plan weighs in at about fifteen million dollars.

  One of the most infamous haunted houses in Nova Scotia lies hidden in the heart of Antigonish County, just a short distance from the town of Caledonia Mills. This mystery achieved worldwide fame and has been written up in many different books and newspapers.

  A local paranormal investigator was kind enough to give me the exact directions to the location of the farmhouse, but I have chosen not to print those directions here. I do not want to run the risk of being responsible for any ghost hunters who venture out and find themselves lost in the Caledonia Mills woods.

  Before you feel cheated, I should tell you that there is no trace of the old farmhouse left, not even evidence of a foundation. There isn’t much left around here but memories. If you went to the site all you’d likely find is a handful of dead trees, still standing, and a few boards, beams, and shingles scattered amongst the underbrush. The one thing you would notice, though, is the odd aroma in the air, the lingering scent of ashes and smoke that still hangs over this property.

  If you do decide to go, be warned. Don’t touch anything you don’t have to. Don’t take anything home with you or bad luck is sure to follow.

  Even though there isn’t much left of the farmhouse, folks in Caledonia Mills still remember it and talk about it. And when they talk they tend to whisper.

  A Gaelic Curse

  When John MacDonald died in a Westville coal-mining accident, he left behind a wife named Annie and four young children.

  “I cannot raise four children by myself,” Annie said.

  Fortunately, a close friend came to Annie’s rescue. Janet MacDonald (no relation) took it upon herself to adopt Mary Ellen, the youngest of the four.

  Janet’s husband, Alexander, agreed with the decision. “Janet and I are old,” Alexander told Annie. “Our house is empty and our children are fully grown. We can give a good, honest home to your daughter. We will be glad if you will allow us to raise her as our own.”

  Janet and Alexander took Mary Ellen to their home in Caledonia Mills. Their farmhouse wasn�
��t much to look at, just a plain two-storey building with a kitchen out back, and a barn and a few outbuildings scattered about. But it did have one very special feature that wasn’t visible to the naked eye: a curse.

  It started with an unwanted house guest.

  Alexander’s younger brother Andrew lived off his lumber camp wages and spent most of his money on gambling and drink. As a result, Andrew fell into the habit of living in his relatives’ homes and mooching from their larders.

  Alexander and his brothers and sisters had long ago learned to indulge Andrew in his habit, but Janet wasn’t nearly as patient with the scoundrel. She got tired of coming home to find him drunk in the kitchen.

  One cold and stormy November evening in 1903, Janet had Alexander throw his brother out of their house. “I will put up with his drinking no longer,” she told her husband. “Either he goes or I do.”

  It did not take Alexander long to come to his decision. The truth was, he had grown tired of his brother’s wastrel ways and was secretly all too happy to turn the moocher out into the night.

  But Andrew was determined to have the last word. Before he stepped out into the cold, unwelcome night air, he turned to his brother and his wife and said, “You both will be driven out from your house on a worse night than this one.” He spoke these words in Gaelic so that the spirits would hear them and heed them.

  And then he walked away.

  The Mad Woman

  In addition to the spectre of Andrew’s curse, the MacDonalds of Caledonia Mills lived beneath the shadow of Janet’s mother, who in her late eighties had fallen prey to dementia. Alexander had quietly arranged to have his mother-in-law committed to the County Home, but Janet would not have it. She, just as quietly, had arranged for her mother to leave the County Home and move in with them.

  The old woman was kept locked in her bedroom for her own safety. But locked door or not, she was often found wandering about the house screaming. On April 27, 1900, a house guest was witness to one of these late night seizures. The old woman was raving like a banshee when Janet burst into her bedroom and shrieked out, “I hope the Devil in hell comes and takes you before nine o’clock tomorrow morning!”

  It was at this moment that the house guest swore he saw an eerie sight. “A small black dog padded in through the house and walked directly into the old woman’s bedroom and barked three times before disappearing under the bed,” the guest testified. “The bedroom was searched afterwards, but there was no trace of a dog to be found.”

  The following morning, Janet’s mother was found dead in her bedroom.

  These are the shadows that young Mary Ellen grew up beneath. Things would grow darker still.

  Poltergeist Pranks

  A “poltergeist” is usually described as a nasty house- hold spirit who takes delight in flinging furniture, utensils, and other personal belongings about. The word stems from Germanic roots and translates generally to “noisy spirit.” Poltergeists have been reported in nations and cultures across the world, and they often seem to manifest when one or more of the occupants of the house are in their teenage years.

  The haunting activities in Caledonia Mills began on a very simple and playful note. Kitchen mats were found rolled up and leaned against the line of fence that divided the MacDonald property from its neighbours’. Then pots and pans and other kitchen implements started showing up beside the fence.

  Then the animals began to stray. Alexander would often find his horse and cattle wandering in the yard after he had corralled them or locked them in the barn. So Alexander started getting more creative in his methods of restraint, tying knot upon knot in an effort to put an end to the mysterious incidents. But every morning he would wake up to find the livestock roaming where they shouldn’t have been.

  “Perhaps it’s the horse,” Janet suggested. “He is awfully smart for a dapple pony.”

  So Alexander traded his horse for another. But still the untying continued. After a time Alexander came to expect it as he expected the rising of the sun. Every night he would secure the horse and cows in the barn, only to wake to find them wandering through the back field. Some mornings he would even find the horse’s mane and tail braided.

  “It’s the Lutin,” Janet swore, blaming it on the Highland faerie-folk, who were known for such trickery. “They have always been fascinated with knots and hitches of all sorts. And they certainly love braiding a horse’s mane.”

  Whatever the reason was, the strange untying of knots and the release of the MacDonald livestock continued until the winter of 1922, when the mysterious fires first began.

  The First Fire

  The first fire took place on Saturday, January 7, 1922. Alexander was up early to light the kitchen stove when he noticed that the wall and ceiling were charred.

  “That won’t do,” he said. “The pipes must need cleaning.” He took the pipe down and made certain it was clear of soot. Then he reassembled it and made equally certain that it was far enough away from the wall and ceiling to ensure no further damage.

  He was even careful to make sure that the fire was out by four o’clock that afternoon. It wouldn’t do to let the farm burn down.

  That evening Janet smelled smoke. When Alexander investigated, he discovered an upholstered chair and lounge were both smouldering. Oddly enough, both pieces of furniture were some distance away from the stove. He hastily extinguished the fires and sat up worrying and fretting for most of the night.

  The next day brought five more fires burning in the loft above the kitchen. That evening, before retiring, seventy-year-old Alexander clambered up onto the roof and poured a bucket of water down the chimney to make certain that the fire was completely extinguished.

  An hour later Alexander and Janet awoke to the smell of smoke. They found several more fires burning in the kitchen loft. Throughout the rest of the evening Alexander kept a fitful watch as fire after fire broke out.

  The next day was quiet. Alexander took advantage of the momentary lull and removed the floorboards in the kitchen loft. He swept and cleaned them, making certain they were clear of any debris that might somehow catch fire.

  The next day, the fires resumed. Janet and Alexander watched in surprised terror as a fire spontaneously ignited above their heads, again in the kitchen loft. Janet clambered up the ladder to the loft, tore the smouldering board from the floor, and flung it out the window into the snow below.

  A half hour later, the fires continued. A wall over the door leading from the kitchen into the main section of the house caught fire. Several other fires broke out in the main house. Alexander, fearful for his family, sent Janet and Mary Ellen out on that stormy evening to go and get whatever help they could find. They bundled up in parkas and galoshes and made their way to their nearest neighbours, the MacGillivrays, who lived two kilometres up the road from them.

  Dan and Leo MacGillivray and their visiting brother-in-law, Duncan MacDonald, accompanied the two women back to help Alexander fight the flames. When they arrived everything seemed normal. The four men went over the house with a fine-toothed comb, looking for any trace of fire, but could find none.

  Finally, Dan MacGillivray went home. Everything seemed fine to him. Leo and Duncan stayed where they were, however. It just didn’t seem right to them to abandon a neighbour who had asked for their help.

  Their caution proved wise. A short time after Dan left, another fire broke out. This time it was on a parlour window blind. A half hour later, a calendar hanging by the parlour stove caught fire. The parlour stove wasn’t lit at the time. In fact, it hadn’t been lit in several days. A few minutes later, a bed in the guest room caught fire. The dog’s bed also caught fire. For the next couple of hours, the MacDonalds and their neighbours were kept busy patrolling the house for fires and extinguishing them.

  In all, thirty-eight fires broke out over the run of that evening. The Fire-Spook kept Alexander, J
anet, Leo, Duncan, and Mary Ellen very busy with blazes that broke out in locked dresser drawers and closed kitchen cupboards. By morning there were at least five centimetres of water pooled up on the dining room floor. But even that did not help. A wet dish rag, sopping in a puddle, spontaneously ignited and burned to nothing but blackened ash. The stink from that fire was phenomenally oppressive.

  Leo MacGillivray had this to say about the event: “We were in the house about half an hour when the whole house seemed to be strangely illuminated, just as sudden and bright as if a short circuit had occurred on a high-tension wire. The blaze seemed brighter in the parlour so I made a dash for that room. The window blind was enveloped in flames. I tore it off the window and managed to save about half of it. The flame was a pale blue and the only thing that I could liken it to was a short circuit. The flame was not hot and it did not even singe the hair on the back of my hands or eyebrows.”

  “I saw paper burning when it was wet,” Duncan MacGillivray testified afterwards. “There was no gasoline or anything inflammable around the house.”

  At one point during the night, Duncan MacDonald was sent home to call for help because the MacDonalds’ telephone line wasn’t working in the intensity of the local storm. He made it to the MacGillivrays’ and called the authorities, but most of them were busy fighting the effects of the storm, and they couldn’t make it out there until morning.