The Stuff of Dreams
Jan 17, 2023
So, I don’t know about you guys, but is there anything creepier than a ghost ship and a haunted harbor? Well…maybe… but they’re still pretty freakin’ creepy if you ask me. Especially when they involve a sunken ship whose downfall was foretold by, not one, but TWO of the sailors that were serving on said ship, and was caused because of a giant freak storm, and because of a committee that refused to put up a lighthouse, and an egotistical sea captain and--
:: catches breath::.
Ok, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start over.
Maine is known as Vacationland. In fact, when you cross the state border from New Hampshire the first thing you see is a big, bold sign reading “Maine. Worth a visit. Worth a Lifetime.” People in the rest of New England know that “Maine-iacs” live life a little slower (no offense intended. Peacefully. I meant peacefully) than the rest of us, but that they also enjoy gorgeous, pristine vistas, from the beautiful white-capped mountain slopes to the grey, rocky coast lined with picture perfect lighthouses. One of the most famous of these lighthouses is the Cape Neddick Nubble Lighthouse in York, Maine. Built in the year 1879, it is still in use today and is a popular tourist site on the north end of the village of York Beach, constructed out of brick and cast iron. It is also one of the most frequently photographed landmarks in America.
As charming as all of this sounds, one of the main reasons for its origins isn’t as serene. In fact, it’s downright chilling. Since the early 1800’s, the sailors of Maine had been pushing for the construction of a lighthouse near the harrowing rocky coastline between Kennebunk and York. The request was repeatedly denied however, with the board citing the many other lighthouses that were already in the area.
On November 30, 1842, the night before Thanksgiving, a beautiful, newly constructed, three-mast ship would be making its maiden voyage from Kennebunk, Maine to New Orleans, Louisiana, carrying a shipment of lumber. The ship, however, wouldn’t make it to New Orleans. It wouldn’t even make it past the coast of Maine.
Now, a sunken ship on its own is of course really sad, and when that sunken ship becomes a “quote unquote” ghost ship, it’s definitely a little scary. There’s something that makes this particular tale even creepier than your run-of-the-mill haunted ship story though.
The crew of the ill-fated Isidore consisted of 16 men, from a teenaged cabin boy to an elderly cook, the Captain – a one Leander Foss—and a crewman named Thomas King. Before the ship was set to sail, crewman Thomas King vividly dreamt of the Isidore being lost to the sea and of its crew drowning and being washed up on the shore. Because of his dream, King begged Captain Foss to delay the launch. Foss refused, instead threatening King with consequences of deserting the voyage (with one reason being that the crew was already paid a month’s salary in advance).
The evening before the ship set sail, a second—yes, a SECOND—crew member went to Captain Foss, also begging him to keep the ship docked. This crewmember had also had a dream, as he relayed to Foss, where he had a vision of seven coffins, lined up one by one, with one of them being his very own. Foss rebuked this crewman’s request, as he had with King’s, and continued with biz as usual. Probably because of the small size of the crew, King and this other crewman heard and shared with each other their respective “visions”, both strongly sensing that their ship was doomed.
That next evening, November 30th and Thanksgiving Eve, Foss commanded that all crew come aboard, and he steered his ship out of Kennebunk Harbor. As the ship sailed further away from the port into the dark of night, the wind grew stronger, and snow began to fall. By the time the ship approached Boon Island, about seven miles from Kennebunk, the winds had gathered in strength to gale forces, and the waves grew to giant swells, tossing the Isidore towards Avery Cove, where it crashed in the darkness of night upon the sharp rocks and sunk. Every man on board died.
The next morning, the locals discovered the wreckage, which spanned the entirety of Cape Neddick Island, as well as the bodies of seven of the crewmen (does that number sound familiar?) washed up on the shore, including the crewman who dreamt of seven coffins. The body of Captain Foss was never found… As for the crewman Thomas King, he listened in horror to the report of the shipwreck from his hiding spot in Kennebunk, where he had hunkered down at the time of the ship’s launch to avoid the wrath of the now ex-Captain Leander Foss.
Not only is it remembered to be the worst maritime disaster in Maine’s history, but the storm itself was the worst of its era. Since the wreck, visitors to York and the local fishermen have reportedly seen the faint image of the ill-fated Isidore sailing off the shore of Avery’s Coast and Boon Island. While chilling enough, one fact makes it even creepier: most of these tourists had never before heard the story of the Wreck of the Isidore.
Oh, and there’s a song.
Phew, do you have chills? I sure do! Must be time for more coffee. Heh. 😉
Have a good day and make sure not to go to work if you dream about it sinking. Just kidding, don’t tell your boss I said that.
[D.T.]
Reid, H., (n.d.) The Wreck of the Isidore. http://www.harveyreid.com/isidore/index.html
Wood, A., (2021). The Wreck of the Isadore Behind Cape Neddick (Nubble) Light. https://www.nelights.com/blog/the-wreck-of-the-isadore-behind-cape-neddick-nubble-light/#gsc.tab=0