Stromness Dragon

Hello blogging chums….another Halloween is upon us and Lidl has no doubt run out of flour and treacle. My work-in-progress (new working title ‘Otherworldy Orkney’ - whadya think?) is plodding on slowly, and I thought you might like a couple of spooky tales to read whilst the wind howls outside……put another log on the fire, pull up a chair, pour yourself a glass of something, and enjoy.

The Phantom Ship

Still visible throughout Stromness are small stone whaling sheds, the last remnants of a great industry that sent ships from Orkney to the Baltic seas in search of whales for lamp oil.

In 1911 the ship the Orcadian Belle was one of the last whalers to work out of Stromness, and she slipped out of harbour one morning to head north. About an hour into her voyage she hit a bank of fog and had to proceed slowly…suddenly another ship loomed out of the mist, approaching the Belle rapidly. They tried to hail the other ship but no reply, and the Belle had to change her course to avoid certain collision.

As the other ship sailed silently past the men could see that she had no crew, no captain in charge, and no signs of life at all. She was a vast, ancient wooden vessel, with a huge carved prow and a high, old-fashioned deck. The brass gleamed, the ropes swayed and the huge wooden ship’s wheel turned slowly by itself.

As the crew of the Orcadian Belle watched in awe, she sailed silently by, into another bank of mist, whereupon she disappeared completely. Investigation afterwards revealed that no such vessel was known in those waters, and the Orcadian Belle crewmen were in no doubt that they had encountered one of the legendary phantom ships. Keep a look out to sea on a misty day for strange, mysterious ships – they are still to be seen!

The Spinning Wheel

In the 19th century, there was an Orkney sea Captain who had never taken a wife, spending most of his life at sea. He was particular about his dress, and always preferred to have woollen garments next to his skin. An old woman was employed for the purpose of spinning and knitting his garments. Before a voyage he would place an order, and when he returned, the old woman had made the things required. They followed this arrangement for years. One year, after a long sea voyage, the captain returned home to find a parcel of woollen shirts and stockings, and the news that the old body had passed away. Well, there was not much to be done about that. The funeral had been and gone, she was dead, that was that, and he thought no more about it. A few of his friends were in town, so he shrugged and went off to the pub.

The captain left the inn late and rather merry, with rather a long walk home through the country. It was a dark night, no moon and only a few stars breaking through the cloud overhead. As he walked the miles, he gradually became aware of a strange sound behind him – clickity clickity clickity….quite rhythmic and strangely familiar. He shook his head and walked on. Clickity clickity clickity. And then it struck him – it was the sound of a spinning wheel! No sooner had the thought struck him than he heard a low cackle of laughter and the clicking getting louder…He quickened his pace and the spinning wheel kept up. He started running, and the clicking was right behind him…a wave of terror shot through his body and he just ran full pelt – and the old woman and the spinning wheel followed, getting closer with every step.

They raced madly over the fields, but every now and again, just as it seemed she was gaining on him, the clicking stopped, and then started again. This of course was the old woman running out of wool and attaching another hank to the wheel. This happened three times, and each time, when she caught up, she got closer and closer. The captain was losing strength, and in a frenzy of fear, spotted a croft house. He shot through the door, and leapt into the box bed where an old couple lay sleeping. He scrambled into the bed, underneath the covers between the husband and wife, who were surprised to find a terrified, drunk sea Captain sharing their bed! He was shaken with terror and they could get no sense out of him until they had given him a glass of whisky and made sure that the door was firmly bolted. The couple were curious to know – what had happened? He explained that he had been chased half way across Orkney by the ghost of an old woman and a spinning wheel. And, he said, if she had not run out of wool and stopped to attach more, ‘she would surely have caught me!’

Who knows what she might have done if she had caught him? Strangled him with a pair of socks? The captain took no chances. The very next day he paid attendance on the old woman’s grave, and gave money for a fine headstone. And as far as I know he was never bothered by the spirit again.