Thread: The Mystery of Hemlock Bay

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"Okay...Jake, was it? What can I get you? Something to drink?" Sam asked as he looked into the refrigerator. "Nothing, thank you." replied Jake. " You sure? I'm going to make some tea. Helps me stay awake, you may have a need for it after talking to me for a while." Sam chuckled.

Jake sat at the kitchen table, trying to scan the room discretely. Everything was very old, but very clean and well maintained. It looked like one of those "modern kitchens of the future" they advertised in those 1950's magazine adds. There was one stand out though, a bran new microwave. As Sam fumbled with the teakettle and filled it with water, Jake heard a strange sound in the room off to the left. It sounded like soft hoot. "What was that?" Jake asked, stretching his neck in the direction of the room, trying to see as much as possible without actually getting up from the table. "That? Well, don't just sit there, go take a look. That's where were headed anyway." Sam said.

Jake slowly got up and cautiously entered the room. It was a pretty large, library or study. The walls were lined with shelves, filled with books. There was a large table in the center of the room, which was littered with open books, papers and artifacts. To the right corner opposite the doorway, stood a beautiful writing desk and chair. Behind the desk was the source of the sounds Jake had heard. A snow white colored, barn owl. Sitting on a perch about 4 feet high inside a oval cage. "Jake, meet Max" said Sam as he made is way over the to cage. Sam explained how in addition to being a historian he had also been involved in rescuing birds of prey and that he had raised Max from a chick. He had found him with a broken wing after having fallen from a nest. He nursed him back to health, tried to release him back into the wild, but Max just didn't want to go. He had been here ever since.

"Alright, Jacob Longe, that's what you came here for isn’t it?" Sam made his way to one of the shelves and pulled out a dusty old manuscript. Picking up his reading glasses, Sam pulled up a chair at the research table and began delicately thumbing through the book. "Ah, here you go. This is probably the best place for you to start reading." Sam said as he handed the book to Jake, open to specific page. With that, a high pitch whistle of the tea boiling filled the house. "Alright, You get started and I'll tend to the tea, be right back." Sam said.

As Sam went for the tea, Jake began to skim through the book. The first and obvious point he noticed about this piece of literature was that Sam was the author and it was published in 1955. It was a collection of original documents with narrative commentary. There was a wealth of raw untainted history here, what an amazing find he thought. Most of the documents quoted were person journals of the original settlers of Hemlock Bay. Jake went back to the page Sam had opened for him; it was the beginning of a chapter entitled "Founding Father or Demon Pirate."

The chapter began with the translation from the diary of a French Trapper dated October 15, 1729. "First signs of the vessel were reported in the early light. Several of the fisherman say that it appears and vanishes with the fog. It is as if the ship is ethereal. No flag or identification could be spotted. There is great uneasiness and fear in the village." Jake felt a chill run down his spine as he read the text. The next entry was dated October 20, 1729, "The fifth day of sightings beyond the reef. One of the clippers has not returned this evening. No word as to its whereabouts. I'm thinking it's time I head back to my traps to the West. Feeling this place is not safe, will leave tomorrow."

Sam returned with two cups of tea and sat down opposite Jake. Jake looked up in amazement. "So what do you think?" Sam asked. "This is awesome, I had no idea that such accounts existed." Jake replied. "You may want to ask yourself why you couldn’t find this in the library? It has nothing to do with lack of authentication, I'll assure you of that. I don't know how far you've gotten, but did you notice the date of the first entry?" Sam asked. " Yes, Oct 1729" Jake replied " And what does the prevailing tale of the founding of our little Hamlet say about when it occurred?” Sam continued. "Spring of 1730, that's right!" It was starting to come to Jake. "So the village existed before the date that Jacob Longe and his pilgrims landed. Why would anyone lie about that?" Jake asked.

Sam took a sip of his tea and said, "Well, the answer to that question is both simply and complicated. The simple answer is that it’s the basis for the big lie that this town's history is founded on. They had to come up with some great accomplishment to help people believe their falsehood that he was this force for good. In reality he was the antithesis. The complicated answer, will require a little story telling on my part and if you have the time, I'd be happy to oblige." "By all means, please go ahead." Jake enthusiastically exclaimed.

Sam then began to tell his version of the events that occurred in that cold October in 1729. Jake sat back in his chair and listened. It became clear very quickly that Sam was an excellent storyteller and Jake could picture him sitting in front of a campfire spinning a ghostly yarn. “This is going to be good,” he thought to himself.

“The account of the missing ship was just the beginning of the nightmare that the village would endure. One by one the fishing vessels of Hemlock Bay began to disappear. The clippers would appear days later, anchored to the reef, devoid of human life and in pristine condition. Never a sign of a struggle or a clue as to the fate of the crew. Eventually, a large number of the village residents fled the town limits for the countryside. Fearing that this land had been cursed and some unknown evil was bent on claiming the lives of every man woman and child. Only a few brave souls stayed, mostly the families of the missing sailors holding on to slim hope that their loved ones might return.

By the 30th of October, the town was virtually a ghost town. It was on this day that a very large and thick fog bank rolled in from the south. A very unusually occurrence for the time of year. The fog bank brought with it a large ship, a “man-o- war” that anchored itself on the reef. The accounts get sketch here, mostly because they are from diaries of witnesses who documented the events later in life. But from what I can put together, I was able to discern that this “fog ship” was call the “Reaper” and was captained by non other than Jacob Longe. Rowboats caring many heavily armed men came ashore. Now here’s where things get unbelievable so I’d rather you read if for yourself. Turn to page 87 and read the account of Pierre Rousseau.”

Jake was on the edge of his seat at this point. He quickly flipped the pages to the Rousseau account. It read:

"9pm when the crafts hit the docks. Those of us who were left, did our best to hide from sight beyond the tree line. The boats carried unthinkable horror. These weren't mere pirates; these were demons from the bowels of hell. Spirits or undead. We couldn't believe our own eyes as we could see through their flesh at spots to their bones. Their eyes seemed to glow a deep red in the dark moonlight. They moved with great speed although heavily armed with sabers, guns and maces. They immediately went to work, cutting loose all the remaining schooners and setting them ablaze. They did not speak French, but some say they heard English.

They moved into the village, sacking house after house. Most were empty, picked clean by those who fled in recent days. This seemed to enrage them even more as they pressed on. Finally they came to the Bordeaux house. Mr. Bordeaux had refused to leave and was found hiding in the cellar. Some of the creatures dragged him from his home into the center of town. We were horrified when they speared him again and again like livestock. They propped up his lifeless body and hung it from a lamppost and began to collect his blood in buckets. At this point, we broke and ran deep into the woods, never looking back.”

Jake was almost physically affected by the account. “That poor man.” He said out loud. “But what is this stuff about undead? Do you really thing this account is accurate, that there were ghost pirates that invaded Hemlock?” Jake asked as his cynicism began to return..

"No, well, let me be clearer. Do I believe Jacob Longe's crew were ghosts? No, but I do believe this account." Sam said, as a look of confusion came to Jake's face. " I know, you think I'm talking out of two sides of my mouth., but I'm not." Sam continued. "Some time after I published that book, I came across what was the Holy Grail, as far as I'm concerned. I was helping a friend move from his residence up on Cedar Ridge Road, you know where the old cider mill is. Well, he lived in a house that dated back to 1770. While moving some boxes out of the stone foundation basement, I tripped and fell into one of the sides. When I got back on my feet I realized that I had knocked lose a stone. When I tried to put it back, I noticed that there was a ledge that had been sealed over by the stone foundation. I reached in side and pulled out an old leather pouch. In that pouch were hand written documents by Benny Pollock, a seaman on Longe's crew.

In those documents it describes how Longes' men were taught to put on this ghostly show. They would paint their faces white with lard and flour in hopes of looking like ghastly spirits. How the ship would intentionally hide in daylight hours in coves on the coast sailing only at night. How the Captain was an excellent navigator through horrible weather and could find his way through thick fog. You see, it was all an act, an Illusion, a show. And when you take a moment to really think it through, it's sheer genius. Strike fear in the hearts of your intended victims, and best of all whose going to believe tales of ghost and goblins, meaning if any witnesses were to survive, they would be considered loony. The end result, no warships looking for Jacob Longe and trying to bring him in to justice because he is already dead. This explains why he was able to successfully carry on his piracy well after the "golden age of piracy" had ended.

Jake was taking it all in and began to ponder, how bizarre was it that this Ghost act business would have taken place so long ago yet conceivably was the basis for the modern day ghost legend that Stephanie had been chasing. Especially since it had been kept a very closely guarded secret by the town elders for all these years.

"Okay Sam, you sold me. I believe that Jacob Longe was no benevolent founding father and was actually ruthless pirate. But why keep this a secret? What could anyone gain, in this day and age, from hiding this truth from the history books?" Jake asked. Sam paused and looked at Jake with a clear sign of hesitation. "Well Jake, there's an answer to that too, but I don't think your ready for it. This is an awful lot for a young man to take on in one day. And by the way, I never asked you why you were so interested in Jacob Longe?" replied Sam.

Jake then went into the story of Stephanie and her disappearance. How he was very worried and felt a need to help if he could. Sam had read the newspaper article but seemed to become even more concerned when he learned that Stephanie had been searching for Jacob Longe's ghost. Quite suddenly, Sam changed the tone of the conversation: "Well Jake, I think you should be going now", Sam said, visibly shaken. "It's getting late and I have a lot to do." Sam began to usher Jake to the door. "Don't be a stranger now and let me know of I can help. Have a good one". Before he knew it, Jake found himself out on Sam's porch with the front door closing behind him. Puzzled and a bit suspicious, Jake made his way to his bike and started the hard uphill ride home.

As Jake slowly pedaled to his house, tired and just plain exhausted from the hill climb, he saw the Gary's Electric Van parked in front of house. Gary's Electric was Billy's father's company. "Billy" he said to himself out loud as he thought maybe he had some additional news about Stephanie. Jake coasted over to the van and saw that it was empty but one of the back doors was wide open. Jake made is way over to investigate the back of the vehicle, expecting to see Billy rustling through various tool. But no one was there.

However, on the inside of the open door was what appeared to be bloody handprint. Jake's heart stopped. "What the hell?' he said. He looked down on pavement of the street below; there was a red puddle of liquid, "Blood!" The puddle had been stepped in and he could see a trail of footprints leading to his front gate. Billy must have been seriously hurt and made his way to the house for help. Jake dropped the bike, hopped over the gate and ran up the front stairs, on to the porch and through the front door. "Billy, Billy, are you are alright?” he cried, as he began to frantically search the house.

Suddenly, he saw Billy seated at the kitchen table crouched over, bloody hands and head lying on the table. Jake ran over and gently pulled him up, his eyes were closed." Billy, Billy, buddy, come on....talk to me." Jake said as he pulled Billy from the chair cradling him in his arms. Billy's eyes slowly opened as he said with a smile " You're my hero Jake, so big and strong."

"What! Oh, you son of bitch" Jake cried as he dropped Billy to the floor. Billy hit the floor hard, which interrupted his laughter for just a moment. " You should have seen your face Jake, I knew you'd fall for it, with you being all worried about that cook Stephanie. I just got this shipment of movie magic blood in and I had to try it out." Billy said chuckling. Jake was not amused, " You are a real A-hole, get away from me." Jake said as he left Billy on the floor in the kitchen and headed upstairs to his room. As Jake made it up the stairs, he could still hear Billy yelling from the kitchen, laughing on the floor. "Oh come on, Jake, don't be that way."

(, keep up the AWESOME work, man! Now back to the story...)

Jake closed the door to his bedroom in disgust. He was really upset. He was letting all this talk about ghosts and pirates get to him. He usually would be right there with Billy looking the pull off the practical joke of the century. Billy followed up the stairs and came into Jake room. " Hey wait a minute Jake, I do have some news about Stephanie." Jake jumped up from his bed his full attention on Billy.

"Well, the latest is that she was last seen down by the wharf. She had two other guys with her. Fellow ghost nuts I guess. She rented a small motor boat from old man Winters and the three of them were seen headed into the bay toward the caves underneath the cliffs." Billy said. "So, did the cops check out the caves?" Jake asked. "Nah, it seems the boat was returned safe and sound the by the next morning, so their theory is that the caves were not the cause of her disappearance. That it must have happen somewhere here in town."

"That's stupid" Jake yelled out. " How can they be sure, it's ridiculous not to check those caves." "Alright, calm down buddy, don't shoot the messenger." Billy said as he sat down by Jake's computer end began to surf the Internet.
"Billy, we're going out to those caves." Jake said. "Now wait a minute.” Billy said, as he swirled around in his chair. "There's no way you are getting me out in those creep, dirty, cold caves. We could get killed. Besides, I'm not messing with Jacob Longe's ghost." Billy said with a smile. Jake was not amused. "I'm serious Billy, she could be out there hurt and in need of help. I'm going, if I have to go alone. " Jake said, as he put on his work boots , pull out his Jacket and headed for the door. "You're really losing it kid." Billy said, as he followed a step behind Jake. "Look I'll give you a ride, but that's it. " Billy said as the two men made their way to Billy's van.

The afternoon was upon them as Jake and Billy arrived at the wharf. The shadows of the mountains to the west made the wharf area darker than the rest of the town as the sun began to set. Billy parked the van as Jake jumped out and headed to harbor master's quarters. The small building looked empty, the wind, blowing the tattered curtains that hung on the inside of the open windows. As Jake entered, an old bell jangled that was attached to the door, announcing his presence to all who cared to notice. The place was shabby to say the least. Obviously the salt air and harsh weather had taken its toll on the old structure. Paint was peeling from the wall and pieces were even falling to the floor.

In the center of the room stood an old steel desk, covered with paper and tools of the sea used as paperweights. The accompanying desk chair was empty but a lit cigar lay burning in the ashtray. It was obvious that the harbormaster wasn't far removed. As Jake began to snoop around the office, Billy came in from parking the van, equipped with a large length of rope and two large flashlights. " I thought you were just dropping me off?" Jake asked with a smile. " Yeah, I know, but I don't run out on a friend and you might need me to save your sorry ass." Billy said. "So, what's the story, where the old man? Can we get clearance to take out a troller?" Billy continued.

"I don't know?' Jake responded "But look , his cigar is still lit, and how big cant his shack be. Start looking around outside, I'll look in here." Billy put the rope and flashlights down went out side. Meanwhile, Jake made is way into the back room. Old Willy, had a reputation for being quite ornery. If he found Jake sneaking about his place, it would be beyond him to whack him with a oar. Jake felt the butterflies doing a dance in his stomach as he inched his way into the dark room.