The Mary Celeste - The Ghost Ship That Sailed Into The Dark

The Ghost Ship That Sailed Into the Dark

The night held its breath. The Atlantic Ocean lay like a black wound between continents. Stars blinked from somewhere far above, watching. Waiting. The sea kept counsel with itself, a great dark creature nursing its ancient secrets. Something drifted in that darkness. Something that would change the history of the sea forever.

October 1872. Three years, three months, eleven days. Before the world learned how the ocean truly speaks.

The Ship Born of Wood and Water

There was a village where the sea met the granite of Nova Scotia—Parrsboro. The Bay of Fundy rose and fell with the chest of a leviathan. In the cold winter mist clinging to those shores, a ship was born. Not with fanfare. Not with trumpets. But with the careful scraping of saws and the smell of wet timber.

The keel laid down in late 1860. Joshua Dewis built her. The shipyard stood on Spencer’s Island—a place where the sea breathed through the trees. The ship’s skeleton took shape in the cold Canadian night.

She was christened Amazon. A name for a river meant to be tamed. Then came May 18, 1861. Launched into the water. Not with ceremony, but with the inevitable roar of the ocean.

She was ninety-nine feet long. Twenty-five feet across. Carvel-built with flush hull planking. One deck. Eleven point seven feet deep. Simple. Unassuming. The kind of ship the world didn’t notice until it was too late.

Her first captain: Robert McLellan. A man the sea had chosen. In June 1861, they set off toward Five Islands. Timber awaited. Voyage to London. A maiden journey into the unknown. McLellan fell ill on June 19. Dying back at Spencer’s Island. The sea had a way of taking what it wanted.

John Nutting Parker took the wheel. He was a man of experience. He sailed on. To London, to trade routes that connected the world to itself. By 1863, another captain walked the deck: William Thompson, 1863 until 1867. Then October 18, 1867. A storm. Cape Breton Island. The ship drove ashore. So badly. So damaged.

The owners left her behind. Let the ocean claim her as a derelict. Alexander McBean of Glace Bay, Nova Scotia, October 15, 1867. He acquired her for pennies. Within a month, he sold her to a local businessman. Then, in November 1868, the wreck changed hands once more: Richard W. Haines. He paid eight hundred and twenty-five dollars to restore her. In December 1868, registered at New York. The new name. Mary Celeste.

The sea remembered she was once Amazon. The new name was a ghost name. It floated on the tongue of sailors, a new identity for the same ship.

The New Owner, The New Man

Early 1872. A consortium. James H. Winchester held six of the twelve shares. Benjamin Spooner Briggs held the remaining four. Briggs was born in Wareham, Massachusetts—a son of the sea. Nathan Briggs had sailed. Oliver Briggs, brother, had invested in another ship: the Julia A. Hallock.

Benjamin Spooner Briggs married his cousin, Sarah Elizabeth Cobb, in 1862. A Mediterranean honeymoon on a schooner called the Forest King. Two children came from this love: Arthur, September 1865. Sophia Matilda, October 1870.

The ship had been refitted. Early 1872. A major undertaking costing ten thousand dollars. She had grown. One hundred and three feet long. Twenty-five point seven feet across. Sixteen point two feet deep. A second deck. Extensions to the poop deck. New transoms. Replacement timbers. Displacement to two hundred and eighty-two point twenty-eight tonnes. The sea had seen this ship change. It would see her grow.

Briggs was his captain. He chose his men carefully:

• Albert G. Richardson, First mate. Married to Winchester’s niece. He’d sailed under Briggs before.
• Andrew Gilling, Second mate. Twenty-five years experience. New York birth. Danish extraction.
• Edward William Head, Newly married steward. Personal recommendation from Winchester.
• Four German general seamen from the Frisian Islands. Volkert and Boz Lorenzen. Arian Martens. Gottlieb Goudschaal.

Four brothers from the sea, each a veteran of the Atlantic crossing.

Sarah Briggs informed her mother. The crew appeared quietly capable. Not boastful. Not drunk. Just quiet. Ready.

Departure Into the Dark

Pier 50 on the East River. New York City. November 20, 1872. The ship prepared. Benjamin Briggs supervised the cargo. His wife and infant daughter joined him a week later. October 27. November 3. Briggs wrote to his mother. The vessel was in beautiful trim. He hoped for a fine passage. Sarah sent a final letter from Staten Island. Arthur made great dependence on letters from his father. They were waiting. Waiting for what.

The morning of November 5. Mary Celeste left Pier fifty. She entered New York Harbor. Briggs left with his wife. His daughter. Seven crew members. Behind them, the Dei Gratia waited in Hoboken. Captain David Morehouse. First mate Oliver Deveau. Nova Scotians. Experienced. They were waiting for petroleum. Destination Genoa via Gibraltar.

November 5. Briggs decided on better weather. He anchored off Staten Island. The weather eased. Two days. Mary Celeste left the harbor. Entered the Atlantic. Briggs and his family. Seven lives. That evening, they left. The ship was gone. The port was empty. The dark held the rest.

Eight days later. November 15. Dei Gratia departed Gibraltar. The same route. Eight days behind Mary Celeste. Weather uncertain by December 4. In the nineteenth century, sea time was twelve hours ahead. It was Thursday the fifth.

The ship rode the waves. The waves rode the ship.

The Ghost Ship Appears

Midway between the Azores and Portugal. Thirty-eight degrees twenty minutes North. Seventeen degrees fifteen minutes West. One in the afternoon. Captain Morehouse came on deck. A helmsman reported. A vessel heading toward them. Around six miles away. Erratic movements. Sails oddly set. Something was wrong.

The vessel drew closer. Nobody on deck. No reply to the signals. Morehouse sent Deveau and second mate John Wright in a ship’s boat. They climbed aboard. By the name on her stern, they knew. This was Mary Celeste. She was the ghost.

The sails were partly set. In poor condition. Some gone. Missing altogether. Much of the rigging damaged. Ropes hung loosely over the sides. Where they used to hold tight.

The main hatch cover was secure. The fore and lazarette hatches open. The covers beside them on the deck. The single lifeboat, a small yawl. It had been stowed across the main hatch. But it was gone. Missing.

The binnacle. The ship’s compass. Shifted from its place. Glass cover broken. Three and a half feet of water in the hold. Significant. But not alarming for a ship of this size. A makeshift sounding rod aboard and abandoned on deck. The ship’s daily log in the mate’s cabin. The final entry. November 25. Eight in the morning. Nine days earlier.

Position thirty-seven degrees one minute North. Twenty-five degrees one minute West. Off Santa Maria Island, the Azores. Nearly four-hundred nautical miles from where the Dei Gratia encountered her.

The cabin interiors were wet. Untidy from water through doorways and skylights. But otherwise in reasonable order. Personal items scattered about Briggs’ cabin. A sheathed sword under the bed. Most of the ship’s papers missing. Navigational instruments gone. The deck. The air. The quiet.

No signs of fire. No signs of violence. The evidence: an orderly departure. The crew had gone. They had gone by means of the missing lifeboat. Oliver Cobb, Benjamin’s cousin, suggested the transfer of personnel to the yawl may have been intended as a temporary safety measure. Attaching the yawl to a vessel the crew thought was about to explode would have been illogical.

The Court That Questioned the Sea

The Dei Gratia reached Gibraltar. December 12. Mary Celeste encountered fog. Arrived a day after the Dei Gratia. Immediately impounded. The vice admiralty court. Prepare for salvage hearings. Deveau wrote to his wife. The ordeal of bringing the ship in was such that he could hardly tell what he was made of. He did not care so long as he got in safe. He would be well paid for the Mary Celeste.

The salvage court hearings began. December 17, 1872. The hearing was conducted by Frederick Solly-Flood. Attorney General of Gibraltar. Advocate-General. Proctor for the Queen in Her Office of Admiralty. A man whose arrogance was inversely proportional to his intelligence. Once he had made up his mind, he couldn’t be shifted.

The testimonies convinced him. Deveau. Wright. Unalterably that a crime had been committed. This belief was picked up by the New York Shipping and Commercial List on December 21. The inference: foul play. Alcohol at the bottom of it.

On December 23, Flood ordered an examination. John Austin, Surveyor of Shipping. With the assistance of a diver. Austin noted cuts on each side of the bow. He thought they were caused by a sharp instrument. Traces of blood on the captain’s sword. His report emphasized that the ship did not appear to have been struck by heavy weather. A vial of sewing machine oil found upright in its place. This was evidence. The diver looked down into the dark.

Portunato’s report on the hull. The ship had not been involved in a collision. Nor run aground. A further inspection. A group of Royal Naval captains endorsed Austin’s opinion about the bow cuts. Deliberate. They discovered stains on one of the ship’s rails. Blood? A deep mark possibly caused by an axe. These findings strengthened Flood’s suspicions. Human wrongdoing rather than natural disaster.

On January 22, 1873, he sent the reports to the Board of Trade in London. His conclusion. The crew had gotten at the alcohol. Murdered the Briggs family and the ship’s officers in a drunken frenzy. They had cut the bows to simulate a collision. He fled in the yawl to suffer an unknown fate. Flood believed Morehouse and his men were hiding something. That Mary Celeste had been abandoned in a more easterly location. The log had been doctored. He could not accept that Mary Celeste could have traveled so far while uncrewed.

The Man Who Wouldn’t Believe

James Winchester arrived in Gibraltar on January 15. He enquired when Mary Celeste might be released. Flood demanded a surety of five thousand. Winchester did not have it. He became aware that Flood thought Winchester might have deliberately engaged a crew that would kill Briggs and his officers.

During sharp exchanges on January 29, Winchester testified to Briggs’ high character. He insisted that Briggs would not have abandoned the ship except in extremity. Flood was not satisfied. The blood stain analysis. Scientific analysis showed the stains were not blood. A second blow followed. A report commissioned by Horatio Sprague, the American consul in Gibraltar. Captain Shufeldt of the US Navy. The marks on the bow were not man-made. They came from the natural actions of the sea on the ship’s timbers.

With nothing concrete to support his suspicions, Flood reluctantly released Mary Celeste from the court’s jurisdiction on February 25. Two weeks later, with a locally raised crew. Captain George Blatchford from Massachusetts. She left Gibraltar for Genoa. The question of the salvage payment decided on April 8 when Cochrane announced the award. £1,700. About one-fifth of the total value of ship and cargo. Far lower than the general expectation.

Cochrane’s final words. Harshly critical of Morehouse. The ship was at liberty. The mystery remained.

The Shadowy Past

The Mary Celeste had a shadowy past. Originally christened Amazon. Given a new name after a series of mishaps. The sudden illness and death of the first captain. The collision with another ship in the English Channel. An investigation into whether to grant payment by insurers to the Dei Gratia’s crew found no evidence of foul play.

The ship would sail under different owners for twelve years. Before the last captain deliberately ran it aground in Haiti as part of an attempted insurance fraud. In 2001, the best-selling novelist and adventurer Clive Cussler claimed to have found the wreck of Mary Celeste. Later analysis of the timbers showed the wood was still living at least a decade after Mary Celeste sank. One of the most famous maritime mysteries in history endures.

Theories over the years. Mutiny. Pirate attack. Assault by giant octopus. Sea monster. The more scientifically minded proposed an explosion. Caused by fumes from the seventeen-hundred barrels of crude alcohol. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle even weighed in with a short story in 1884.

The investigation chronicled in the 2007 documentary The True Story of the Mary Celeste offered no definite conclusion. It suggested a scenario in which a faulty chronometer, rough seas and a clogged onboard pump could have led Briggs to order the ship abandoned. This could have occurred after sighting land on November 25, 1872. According to the last entry in the ship’s log book. Mary Celeste was within sight of the Azores island of Santa Maria.

The Science of the Ghost Ship

In December 1872. Sailors spotted a ship drifting aimlessly in the open Atlantic. Some four-hundred miles off the coast of the Azores. The Mary Celeste was an American brigantine. She rode the winter swells in eerie silence. Her sails were slightly tattered. But her wooden hull remained perfectly sound. Below deck, the cargo hold sat largely undisturbed. It contained nearly all of its original freight.

The uncrewed drifting ship was brought to Gibraltar by a British vessel. Her captain, his family, and every single crew member had vanished. They left behind their possessions. Their shelter. And a huge unsolved riddle that would puzzle the world for more than a century. For generations, the phantom vessel birthed wild speculation. Storytellers blamed ruthless pirates. They also blamed deep-sea monsters. Blamed sudden illness. And even supernatural forces.

Now, scientists have firmly anchored the legend within the rigid laws of chemistry. Researchers demonstrated that a rapid, invisible explosion of alcohol vapour tore through the ship. The terrifying blast would have driven the panicked crew into the open ocean. Leaving behind a pristine ship. And a haunting legend.

A mariner does not easily abandon a seaworthy ship. This is precisely why the Mary Celeste has always been such a compelling mystery. If pirates ransacked the ship, why leave it unlooted? If bad weather was to blame, why was no sailor, dead or alive, found on the ship?

The most likely explanation lies in the ship’s precious cargo. The Mary Celeste was a merchant ship that was sailing from New York to Genoa. It was transporting industrial-strength ethanol. Shipwrights had packed seventeen-hundred wooden barrels of ethanol into the dark hold. Winemakers in Europe eagerly awaited the shipment to fortify their vintages. But the Atlantic crossing proved brutal. Crew members battled rough weather and kept the hatches down tight. To keep the crushing ocean out.

In doing so, they inadvertently trapped a growing, invisible danger inside. When an inquest later examined the salvaged ship, inspectors found nine barrels entirely empty. The porous wood had allowed roughly three-hundred gallons of highly volatile ethanol to seep out. And vaporize in the enclosed space.

As the Mary Celeste sailed from the freezing winter of New York into the warmer waters near Portugal. The temperature below deck climbed. Past thirteen degrees Celsius. The critical flashpoint of ethanol. The air grew thick with combustible gas. It waited only for a trigger.

If a massive fire erupted, why did rescuers find absolutely no scorch marks on the wooden ship? A mighty blast should leave a charred tomb. However, not all fires burn alike. If you have ever watched a chef flame a dessert or seen a bartender light shots on fire, you have already witnessed this exact chemistry in miniature.

A wash of blue flame dances rapidly over the surface. Consuming the invisible alcohol vapour. Yet the food itself does not burn to a crisp. The fire feeds greedily on the gas. But leaves the solid structure beneath completely untouched.

The Experiments That Explained the Mystery

In 2006, Dr. Andrea Sella, a chemist at University College London, was among the first to tackle this paradox. He built a replica of the Mary Celeste’s hold to test the mechanics of vaporous blasts. Using paper cubes instead of wooden barrels. And butane gas to simulate the leaking cargo. He struck a spark. A massive fireball erupted. Remarkably, the paper cubes did not blacken. They did not even singe.

What we created was a pressure-wave type of explosion. There was a spectacular wave of flame but behind it was relatively cool air. No soot left behind. No burning or scorching. The flames lived and died in a fraction of a second. They consumed the vapour but spared the solid material.

Given all the facts, this replicates conditions on board the Mary Celeste. The explosion would have been enough to blow open the hatches. And would have been completely terrifying for everyone on board.

While Dr. Sella led the way, Jack Rowbotham and Frank Mair at the University of Manchester decided to push the experiment further. Testing the theory for a Channel Five documentary. They wanted to recreate the exact materials and climatic shifts the doomed sailors experienced. They used wood and ethanol. The duo built a detailed one to eighteen scale model of the ship. They knew that a faithful recreation required the right weather. First, they sprayed cold ethanol into the miniature hold. Matching the frigid temperatures of the New York departure. They triggered an electrical wire to spark. Nothing happened. The cold kept the vapours too sparse to ignite.

Then, they brought the ship into the balmy climate of the Azores. They heated the ethanol in a water bath. And warmed the wooden model with gas heaters. They sprayed the warm ethanol inside. This time, the spark found a rich, volatile cloud. A violent explosion instantly ripped through the model. The sheer force hurled the loosely fitted hatch across the room. And violently buckled the wooden deck.

True to the chemical theory. The flames vanished as quickly as they appeared. The Manchester scientists found zero signs of burning or charring on the wooden timbers. Even though ethanol flames can reach a staggering two thousand degrees Celsius. The flash was over in a heartbeat.

We will never know exactly what provided the fatal spark. Perhaps two loose wooden barrels rubbed together on a rolling wave. Perhaps a weary sailor opened a hatch to vent the foul air. While puffing on a smoking pipe. But we now understand the sheer terror that followed.

When you’ve got a crew of sailors not educated for the darkness. You suddenly get a blue flash. Heat. And all the doors open. That is terrifying. According to Dr. Sella. Driven by panic. The captain likely ordered everyone into the lifeboat. Fearing a second blast would shatter the hull entirely. They tied their small boat to the Mary Celeste. Waiting for the fire to pass. A snapped tow line and a sudden squall. They were lost to the deep forever.

The chemists now hope to repackage their scale model. As an outreach activity for classrooms. They want to inspire students. Teaching them about fuel mixtures. But also about the power of scientific deduction. The amusement is not in the solution. According to Dr. Sella. It’s in the idea that you might kind of scratch your head. And try and put yourself back in that time. To think about how differently we looked at the world.

The Mystery Remains

The Mary Celeste was discovered adrift in the Atlantic in 1872 by the crew of the Dei Gratia. The ship was found in rough shape, but still seaworthy. The exploring team found the Mary Celeste deserted and couldn’t come up with a suitable explanation. There was no evidence of foul play. The personal belongings of everyone on board remained intact.

The Mary Celeste was launched in 1861 and changed hands several times. Before ownership changed in 1872. A consortium that included James H. Winchester, Benjamin Spooner Briggs and a couple of minor investors gained ownership. The ship set sail from New York on November 7, 1872. Destination Genoa. Briggs captained the ship and brought along his wife, daughter and seven crew members. The cargo was seventeen-hundred and one barrels of poisonous denatured alcohol.

The Dei Gratia departed from New Jersey on November 15. On the fourth of December, a member of the Dei Gratia crew spotted a vessel heading toward them. In an unsteady manner. David Morehouse was the captain. He immediately suspected something was wrong. When the ship drew closer, he was surprised to find no one on deck. He was concerned as the other vessel was not replying to signals.

The crew found the Mary Celeste deserted when they climbed on board. The sails were in poor condition. Some of the riggings were damaged. The ship’s lifeboat was missing. A makeshift sounding rod found abandoned on the deck. The Mary Celeste had taken on about one meter of water. But that wasn’t unusual for a ship of its size.

Further inspection revealed that nine of the barrels were empty. The last entry on the Mary Celeste’s log was dated November 25. Which means the ship was adrift for nine days. The ship had traveled five-hundred miles in that time according to the log. The cabin interiors were in decent order. But the vessel’s paperwork and navigational instruments were missing. With no signs of violence or struggle.

The most logical conclusion was that Captain Briggs had ordered a departure from the ship. Morehouse brought the Mary Celeste to Gibraltar for salvage. And a man named Frederick Solly Flood conducted the court hearing. He jumped to the conclusion that a crime had been committed. And blamed the intake of alcohol. Flood ordered an inspection of the ship.

Some sources suggest a sword was found on the deck. And stains on the railing appeared to be blood. A deep mark was also discovered. And was likely made by an ax. Morehouse and his crew came under suspicion. But they were eventually cleared of all wrongdoing. They received only a fraction of the salvage money. They were entitled to but also remained under a cloud of controversy.

Flood was convinced Morehouse and his men had something to do with, despite having no proof according to some accounts.

The Enduring Legend

The Mary Celeste: A Ghost Ship Mystery is about the enduring enigma that intrigues historians even today. With its crew vanished and the ship intact. The mystery of what happened during its final voyage invites speculation. Theories about the crew’s disappearance include explosion fears. Pirate attacks, natural disasters, and supernatural explanations. The ship’s cargo of industrial alcohol was untouched. And no signs of struggle were found.

The British Admiralty investigation provided no conclusive answers. Fueling ongoing mystery and speculation. Arthur Conan Doyle’s fictional account helped transform the Mary Celeste into a legendary ghost ship. In 1872, the Mary Celeste was discovered adrift in the Atlantic Ocean. A ship eerily devoid of its crew. Yet in pristine condition. This unsettling sight led to questions. About the fate of Captain Benjamin Briggs and his family. And the crew members, each of whom vanished without leaving a trace.

The juxtaposition of an intact vessel with the complete absence of its occupants. Continues to intrigue and baffle. When the Mary Celeste was discovered adrift in the Atlantic Ocean. Her sails were set. And her hull was intact. Yet the absence of her crew was profoundly unsettling. The ship’s logbook remained. Alongside untouched provisions and the captain’s personal effects. Suggesting a sudden and unexpected departure.

Initial theories ranged from mutiny to piracy to natural disaster. But the lack of any struggle or damage. Left maritime experts with more questions than answers. Cementing the Mary Celeste as an enduring enigma. The Mary Celeste presented an enigma wrapped in tranquility upon its discovery. Amidst the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. The ship was found eerily intact. Its sails set. And rigging in order. The cargo of industrial alcohol was untouched. And the crew’s personal belongings were undisturbed. Strikingly, the ship’s lifeboat was absent. Hinting at a mysterious, unrecorded departure.

Amidst a sea of secrets. In 1872, the Mary Celeste was discovered adrift in the Atlantic Ocean. A ship devoid of its crew. Yet in pristine condition. This unsettling sight. Led to questions about the fate of Captain Benjamin Briggs and his family. Accompanying them were seven crew members, each chosen for their skill. Made their disappearance all the more perplexing. In the annals of nautical history.

As the Mary Celeste departed New York Harbor bound for Genoa, Italy on November 7, 1872. Its voyage seemed routine. Yet it would soon descend into history’s most enigmatic maritime puzzle. The timeline revealed an unsettling sequence of events. Marked by calm seas and no apparent threats. With a seasoned captain at the helm and a seasoned crew. What transpired during this seemingly ordinary Atlantic crossing. Remains a haunting question.

The question remains. What happened to the crew of the Amazon? What happened to the Mary Celeste? The sea held them. The sea took them. And the sea gave back the ship. But the people. The people are gone. The sea keeps its own counsel. And the ocean still watches. And waits. And the wind still sings through the rigging of ships that sail on into the dark.

And the mystery remains. The mystery of what happened. The mystery of who remained. The mystery of why the sea kept them. The sea is still out there. The Atlantic is still out there. The ocean waits. The ocean watches. And the memory that would never forget. Lingers. In the wind. In the waves. In the stories still being told.

The end.