From the October 28, 1983 edition of the Vineyard Gazette:

Before reaching for an Edgar Allan Poe book to get in the spirit of things, remember that the Vineyard has its own ghostly tales.

Though many original sources are long gone, the tales were once thought true. Despite this age of reason there are some haunts that are still haunting. In an old Chappaquiddick house, a spinning wheel that has sat in a corner for years suddenly starts spinning.

On a lonely Chappaquiddick road, beside an old family farm is a place long known by Islanders as “peculiar.” Horses and oxen shy from the spot on the road. If forced to approach the spot, they will rise up against their owner.

At Gay Head is Black Brook. No one knows why the water that rises up from the earth is black. Horses and oxen react here as to the spot on Chappaquiddick. “They shy up,” the old-timers say.

The haunts may take place in houses. Consider a couple purchasing an old captain’s house in Edgartown. The house was run-down and thought haunted. The husband’s wife was uncomfortable in the house. Money was spent to button up the windows, tighten the floors, strengthen the foundation.

Yet the house still had a feeling, a presence. They were never comfortable about the house. In a short time they sold the house and moved to another part of town. The neighbors weren’t surprised. The house has always been thought haunted.

On Chappaquiddick is a house which not only has a history of being haunted — it is haunted now. Its residents are seriously convinced that a ghost exists.

Fortunately, the family is quick to point out, “he is friendly.” They even know his name: Capt. William Martin. “There is no doubt about it,” said a man knowledgeable about the house, which has been in his family for years.

“One time we lent the house to a young couple who were on their honeymoon. We didn’t tell them about the captain.

“They had a miserable time, ‘cause the captain watched them all the time.

“There is always a feeling of presence.”

To the Martin house residents, husband and wife, the Captain has a reputation for playing games. He relocates tools, moving them to different places.

“You see,” said the wife, “Captain Martin built a lot of this house. So when my husband brings out the tools — well — the Captain moves them around.”

But not all Island ghost tales revolve around houses. Consider the surprising story of a man walking down a hill at Gay Head.

When approaching another man coming up the hill, he said hello. The stranger did not reply, but kept on walking.

The Gay Head man turned to watch the stranger climb the hill. The man kept walking.

“Right up into the sky.”

In the 1930s the Coast Guard station was located atop the Gay Head Cliffs. Patrols were regularly sent out along the beach.

One Coast Guardsman was walking back from Lobsterville. Upon entering an old homestead, he moved a horizontal rail to gain entry. It was a popular shortcut back to the Gay Head headquarters.

He handed the lantern over to what he thought was another Coast Guard patrolman. After climbing through the fence, he stood up and reached for his lantern. The lantern was suspended in air.

“Well,” said the teller of this tale with a laugh, “you can be sure that man never took a shortcut again.”

A murder of passion has at least brought one ghost, we are told.

A stable keeper was killed by a jealous man at the turn of the century.

He has since shown up as a ghost. On some nights he is heard walking about in his riding boots. He paces about in the horse stable and walks along the roof over the horse stalls.

The ghost would be no trouble to anyone, but the stable has since been converted to a home.

One house on the Island is haunted by a ghost believed to be that of a child who fell into a cistern and drowned at the turn of the century.

Some time after that accident, a man was seen throwing herbs at the house. His effort was to keep the spirit in the house.

Wenonah Silva of Gay Head doesn’t believe in ghosts.

One night while asleep she was awakened by voices outside calling her name.

“‘Wenonah, Wenonah, Wenonah.’ I was startled, I went to investigate,” she said. “It was a couple of cats moaning on a back fence.”

Mrs. Silva considers herself an investigator, and she declares: “Everything can be explained.”

Still there are stories told by others, who believe.

A headless horseman rides by Black Brook.

Footsteps are heard at the cliffs, and nobody living is about.

Elsewhere on the Island a headless violin player is said to play where two old roads meet.

Three haunted houses stand together, one next to the other. The furniture in one house has not been moved for 80 years. All sits dormant, just as it was at the turn of the century.

Compiled by Hilary Wallcox

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