The Heceta Head Lighthouse Bed & Breakfast is nestled on a cliff above the ocean. For decades, it served as a house for lighthouse keepers and their families. But over the years, the 125-year-old building has become known for its spooky past as many believe the spirit of a lighthouse keeper's wife is still there. (SBG)
"There was one lady that sat here in the middle of the day, and I was here, and said she watched the woman just float down this hall way like she was going to go out the front door," Anderson said, "but there was not really anyone there."
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In the summer of 1753, a ship transporting German immigrants set sail from Portsmouth, England, bound for the New World. Among the many who were aboard was 10-year-old Henrich Caspar Lange. Full of wonder like many his age, the boy no doubt spent as much time topside as he was allowed as the ship lurched its way out of the Solent and into the heaving gray seas and billowy mists of the English Channel.
A few months after American Patriots and British troops clashed at Lexington and Concord in 1775, Henry and Rebecca Long welcomed their first of five children, a daughter they named Rebecca. The births of his other children suggest that during the war Long must have remained close to his home near Smithville, now Southport. Precisely how Long served his new country in rebellion against British oppression we do not know.
At dusk, after spending most of the day waiting for his prey to pass his location without success, Swain was about to return home when he heard a rustling sound in bushes about 25 yards away. Fearful that he might miss an opportunity to return home to his family with something to eat, he hastily cocked his musket and fired. But instead of shooting a deer or a hog, Swain was sickened to discover that he had shot his father-in-law in the abdomen.
In those days, there was no assistant keeper hired by the government to share the arduous duties of keeping a lighthouse. In those days, in the absence of the keeper, his wife did the job. And after the death of her husband, Rebecca Long heroically took over as unofficial keeper of the Cape Fear Lighthouse for the next three months.
Rebecca moved her family across the river to Smithville. One can imagine that she might have occasionally glanced across the river at the Cape Fear Lighthouse at sundown to make sure that it was lighted on time. Or, perhaps, she never looked back there again. She died on May 2, 1815. By then, the lighthouse was gone, too.
The first tragedy I will tell you about occurred on the Murvica lighthouse, located on the west end of the channel near Drvenik island, Central Dalmatia. It was a stormy night when the lighthouse keeper took his life by blowing his head with a shotgun. His wife found his body outside the house and contacted the headquarters over the radio. It was impossible to take off because the night was too dark while the storm kept creating big waves and severe wind. Fellow lighthouse keepers listened the entire night to the poor wife who was so shocked that she lost her sanity. She tried to cover her husband with blankets because she believed he was sleeping outside. Later, she managed to drag him to bed, whispering over the radio to everybody to shut up, not to wake up her husband.
Fellow lighthouse keepers listened the entire night to the poor wife who was so shocked that she lost her sanity. She tried to cover her husband with blankets because she believed he was sleeping outside. Later, she managed to drag him to bed, whispering over the radio to everybody to shut up, not to wake up her husband. The horror ended with the first light when the coastal crew made it to the lighthouse. It turned out her husband was deeply depressed so he committed suicide.
The following recollection of life as both a daughter and a wife of men serving as Trinity House lighthouse keepers was written by Mrs Aurelie Trezise, and published in multiple editions of Flash throughout 1961.
At the time of my birth in November 1903 my parents were stationed at Bardsey Lighthouse off the coast of Wales, at that time a land light. My mother had made full arrangements to go ashore at Pwllheli, on the mainland but, owing to continuous gales it was impossible for the small sailing boat to cross over in time. Hurried arrangements therefore had to be made on the Island which at that time had a population of around 45 people, but no resident Doctor. One of the inhabitants, a lady of 70 years of age, said she would come and act as mid-wife to my mother.
The Island Veterinary Surgeon (who was really an amateur vet) said if things should go wrong he would come and do his best for her. As things turned out however, I was brought into the world safe and sound. I was told in later years that those happenings caused a great deal of worry and excitement on the Island.
Another recollection I have of my early childhood at Dungeness is of a very severe winter with heavy snow storms and we children on the Station building a large snow man which stood up for over a month inside the station grounds and of which we all felt very proud. Then word went round that the Superintendent was making a visit to the Station so our poor snow man had to be knocked down as the then Principal Keeper would not allow it to be standing there when the Superintendent visited, much to our dismay and disappointment.
When I was seven years old my parents were transferred to North Foreland (1910). We were only there 10 months. My brother and I had more or less a quiet time there. We had a walk of 2 miles daily to school.
Soon after this my father was transferred to St. Anthony Lighthouse in 1912. To my dismay we travelled there on Christmas Eve. I was now 10 years old. That Christmas I remember well as we had to make do with the personal things we brought with us in our luggage as our household furniture never arrived at the Station until well into the month of Janaury. In those days it was brought by the Trinity House tender from Penzance to the Lighthouse landing.
Once we settled down in our new home my brother and I really had a very happy time during our stay there. We attended St. Anthony school a distance of 2 miles from the Lighthouse. We had to walk to school and of course we took our lunch with us.
Shortly afterwards my brother left school and started work. Now I was on my own being the only child on the station. Within six months unfortunately for me St. Anthony school closed down and I had to attend the school at a place called Gerrans five miles from the Lighthouse, which made quite a long walk on my own (10 miles) daily. My brother had a 10ft rowing dinghy and when he commenced work he gave the boat to me. At this period the 1914-18 war broke out and owing to war restrictions I had to register the boat in my name and give it a number (347). It was a proud day for me, being so young, to have a boat of my own and in which I spent many happy hours.
Normally the weekly groceries were brought from Falmouth to a small cove called Place House landing by ferry boat and my brother and I would walk 2 miles to this cove to meet the ferry taking with us a small home-made hand cart. After we had collected the groceries we would return home pushing and pulling the hand cart. In the summer time we enjoyed doing this, but in the winter time we used to grumble between ourselves, especially in bad weather, but we still had to do it. Anyway, our parents always compensated us with a few coppers, which of course we expected and which satisfied us.
I now move on to our short stay at Lowestoft Lighthouse in September 1918. It was a big change for me to live in a town as up to now I had lived in isolated places. It was rather amusing the first night we were there, we were unpacking our luggage when a knock came on the door, it was the police warning us we were showing a light out of the window so we had to take more care after that.
We were only at this station for eight months so there is not much to relate concerning our stay there, excepting I went to the Theatre for the first time in my life and thoroughly enjoyed it. I liked our short stay at Lowestoft but preferred the country to town life.
Our next transfer was to St. Bees in 1919. I was now 15 years old and had left school. I was at home assisting my mother who was not in good health. My schooldays had been very happy ones, the only drawback I found was that owing to frequent transfers I had to attend five different schools which was really a set back for me regarding education in comparison with facilities the young ones of today have.
My start at St. Bees was very nice as I was very fond of walking and roaming the beaches. Now came my first winter at St. Bees. The station was quite a distance from the village and town, and I was wondering how I should get on in my leisure hours of an evening outside of home entertainment, knitting, playing the piano, etc., as I was the only young girl in the neighbourhood. I was not of the nervous type so my parents allowed me to walk to Whitehaven about five miles away to do some shopping and go to the first house of the theatre which every week I looked forward to. Otherwise my life at St. Bees was the usual daily routine at home, as previously stated, my mother was in poor health.
November 1920 we were transferred to Hartland Point Lighthouse. The nearest railway station, Bideford, was 18 miles and the village of Hartland 5 miles. Another out of the way place but this I did not mind so much as I was always fond of the countryside and cliffs.
About three months later reconstruction work commenced when in full swing between 40 and 50 men were at work on station which included building a sea wall and knocking down part of the high headland nearby which had been very dangerous for those using the approach road, many a morning when I walked up this road to the nearby farm for our milk huge boulders of rock and rubble which had loosened from the cliff top had fallen on to the road. In these conditions it always kept one ever watchful whenever going up and down this road. Up to now my life at Hartland Point had been quiet but now with all this reconstruction work the place soon began to look like a breakers yard, what with all the masonry, debris, dust and lorries flying around. My mother and I certainly had a busy and hectic time of it as we were the only women on the station. 152ee80cbc
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