Tales from Brookgreen

by Lynn Michelsohn

  But in spite of being startled, we have always enjoyed our ghost. She is quite one of the family.

  Cousin Corrie spoke up again with a smile, “Yes, you do enjoy your ghost! Your mother, Mrs. Wilcox, told me a story years ago about your fun with the White Lady …”

  Before we had electricity at the Inlet we all lit our homes with kerosene lamps. One night, shortly after Mrs. Chandler and her husband were married, they were relaxing in the downstairs sitting room of the Hermitage. It was lit by a kerosene lamp. Mrs. Wilcox needed the light somewhere else briefly so Mrs. Chandler, here, picked up the lamp and carried it off to her mother, leaving her husband sitting peacefully in the dark. Pretty soon a cry arose from the darkened sitting room, “Bring back the lamp!”

  When Mrs. Wilcox and Mrs. Chandler hurried back with the lamp, they found Mr. Chandler sitting stiffly with eyes as big as saucers. He said that “someone” had been in the room with him but “she” had floated out into the hall and up the stairs.

  Excited and a little alarmed, they decided to investigate. Mrs. Wilcox told Mr. Chandler to take the lamp and go first. She would follow and Mrs. Chandler would bring up the rear. (Mrs. Wilcox told me that her main objective was to get safely between the two of them!) So they went out of the sitting room and into the hall in that order, with Mr. Chandler in the lead holding the lamp way up over his head.

  As they entered the hall they passed Mrs. Wilcox’s sewing basket sitting on the Victrola. It contained a pair of soft pajamas waiting to be mended. In a spirit of mischief, Mrs. Chandler, here, grabbed up the pajamas, wadded them into a ball, and threw them up into the air over the stairs. She was so quick that all anyone saw was this white thing unfolding and coming down the stairs at them! Mrs. Wilcox said that she gave one screech so loud that it scared the neighbors, and then they all laughed until they nearly “gave up the ghost” themselves.

  Chapter 4. Ghost Ships

  (Cousin Corrie considers bees, blockade runners, and Parson Belin)

  Both Cousin Corrie and Miss Genevieve were members of Belin Memorial Methodist Church in Murrells Inlet. One day Miss Genevieve and Cousin Corrie offered these thoughts as they talked about reports of strange visions from the church steps. I always believed both ladies leaned toward Confederate blockade runners as the origin of the ghostly wrecks. Cousin Corrie began the story …

  “The Marsh”

  Some people have seen ghostly apparitions from the steps of our Methodist Church at Murrells Inlet. At certain times, wrecked sailing vessels appear out in the creek or at the mouth of the inlet between Garden City and Huntington Beach where real sailing vessels used to come and go. Dawn and dusk seem to be the most common times to see them. Hulls, rigging, and masts, sometimes remains of small boats and sometimes remains of larger ships, have appeared, always far out in the marsh. Certain wrecks have even reappeared from time to time in the same location. Nothing is found when anyone explores the locations in full daylight however. And people only see the wrecks when they look out from our church porch steps.

  I’ve never seen any of the ghost ships myself and no one has been able to say exactly what these vessels might be. Surely some are simply present-day pleasure craft careening on their sides, caught in the creek by low tide until rising water floats them again. Others are harder to explain, and there are so many possibilities.

  Our creeks and inlets have seen so many vessels over the centuries. The first inhabitants used dugout canoes to gather the rich sea life. Then, in succession, came Spanish explorers in barques and sloops looking for safe harbors, English pirates seeking fresh water and food or looking for spots to hide their booty, British raiders intent on destroying Patriot salt works, Confederate blockade runners bringing in medicines or weapons and carrying out cotton, rice, and naval stores, as well as Yankee warships shelling inland plantations or landing troops to skirmish with local coastal defenses. More recently, Prohibition rumrunners landed contraband from Cuba. In between came passenger vessels, cargo ships, and private yachts seeking shelter from Atlantic storms. And fishermen of all eras have always harvested the teeming waters.

  These ghostly wrecks could represent any era or any story. They could be relicts of man’s unsuccessful struggles with the powers of Nature or the remains of battles fought between human adversaries.

  Why do we see these ghost ships only from the Methodist Church? Perhaps clues lie in its history, really three different histories that come together here in one location. At Belin Memorial Methodist Church we have the history of the land, the church building, and the church steps, each tinged with its own ghostly associations.

  ~

  The land where our church stands has long been known for its supernatural connections. It was part of Wachesaw Plantation, acquired by Parson James Belin, a Methodist minister here in the early 1800s (you remember him). Francis Asbury, the first Bishop of the Methodist Church in America, who used to travel these parts on horseback, ordained Parson Belin.

  Parson Belin built a sturdy home for himself on the seacoast at Murrells Inlet out of hand-hewn timbers from his own land. Wooden pegs held the timbers and boards together. The house’s several large rooms have sheltered numerous families over the years and the “Old Methodist Parsonage” still stands today as the oldest building in Murrells Inlet.

  Parson Belin called his home “Cedar Hill” because of the thick growth of cedars in that area back in his day. The point of land where his home stood became known as Parsonage Point and the channel in front of his home is still called Parsonage Creek today.

  Methodism was slow to catch on in Georgetown County where the Episcopal Church, successor to the Church of England, was firmly established. Slave owning rice planters preferred Episcopal teachings that slavery was acceptable in the sight of God to the tenets of Methodism, which at first opposed slavery. Methodists were more successful at converting followers in neighboring Horry County where the more independent and less wealthy small farmers owned few, if any, slaves.

  As you may recall, while Parson Belin found few converts to Methodism among rice planters, these planters did encourage his missionary work among their slaves. Parson Belin began preaching and teaching Christianity to slaves on his own Wachesaw Plantation as well as to those on neighboring Brookgreen and Springfield Plantations, two of the plantations that later became Brookgreen Gardens. He continued and expanded his Mission to the Slaves for many years. He also served small congregations of both white and black members at Turkey Hill Plantation (just south of Brookgreen Gardens) and at Socastee (a settlement a few miles to the west) and Murrells Inlet where he lived. He even traveled to preach at small churches such as Hebron Methodist Church in Horry County where he happened to have baptized my grandmother, Fannie Sarvis.

  Just before the War Between the States, after many years of devoted service, Parson Belin fell from his buggy one evening when he was all alone. He died right there in his own yard. Parson Belin left a long elaborate will including the bequest of his home at Cedar Hill, and one hundred acres surrounding it, to the Methodist Church. This is the land where our Methodist Church stands today. The circumstances of his death were somewhat mysterious and some say his ghost still walks this shore.

  It was also at Cedar Hill that Parson Belin’s lovely niece, Alice Flagg, who had lived at the Hermitage on another part of Wachesaw Plantation, was first interred after her tragic death. Her ghost is sometimes seen walking along this seashore, perhaps looking for her lost ring (but you’ve already heard that story from Miss Genevieve).

  Supernatural beings of Gullah folklore also frequent Parsonage Point. Local people have long reported difficulties with fearsome haunts and spectral creatures when passing the Cedar Hill area at night. One local woman often talked to Miss Genevieve about her frightening encounter there with a fearsome plat-eye (but that’s another story).

  So perhaps the ghostly wrecks out in the creek have some connection to this land that Parson Belin bequeathed to the Methodist Church, or to Parson Beli
n who cannot rest in peace, or to the ghostly Alice who was once buried along this shore, or even to the spirit world of the Gullah that remains so alive right here.

  ~

  However, some believe it is more likely that the ghostly ships have a connection to the church building itself rather than to the land. This building does have an interesting history of its own, a history that also began with Parson Belin but in an entirely different location.

  As Parson Belin became known for his missionary work on the Waccamaw Neck, other planters began to support his efforts. The Pyatt family of Turkey Hill Plantation, just south of Brookgreen Gardens, built a church for Parson Belin’s congregation of worshipers in their area. The church was a simple rectangular building made of hand-hewn timbers set on a foundation of brick pillars that elevated it several feet above the sandy ground. Four wooden columns held up the front porch roof.

  Parson Belin often preached in Turkey Hill Church to slaves as well as to the few white Methodist families on that part of the Waccamaw Neck. These white Methodists would have been families of plantation overseers, seafaring men, or other workingmen. The elite planters themselves all attended All Saints Episcopal Church close to Pawley’s Island.

  After Parson Belin’s death, circuit riding Methodist preachers continued to serve Turkey Hill Church, but when the slaves were freed they established their own churches, leaving just a white congregation. Over the years, membership at Turkey Hill Church dwindled until by 1925 there were only two families left attending the infrequent services. That year Mrs. Oliver, whose family owned a restaurant and fishing retreat called Oliver’s Lodge on Parsonage Point in Murrells Inlet, convinced the two remaining families to donate the Turkey Hill Church building to be moved to Parsonage Point and placed on the land that Parson Belin had bequeathed to the Methodist Church.

  Mrs. Oliver enlisted Captain Boo Lachicotte, who ran a caviar and smoked sturgeon operation near Litchfield Plantation (and was a grandson of the first rice mill engineer at Brookgreen Plantation), to take the church apart into movable sections and transport it to Parsonage Point in his wagons pulled by strong mules. It must have been quite a sight as parts of the church building slowly traveled up the King’s Highway! In pieces, Parson Belin’s church left Turkey Hill Plantation, passed through The Oaks, Brookgreen, Springfield, and Laurel Hill, the four plantations that became Brookgreen Gardens, and finally arrived at its new resting place on what had been Wachesaw Plantation! Its brick pillars were so solid that Captain Boo transported them intact and used them as the foundation again in the new location.

  Turkey Hill Church had withstood hurricanes and war for over a century. What lives had passed through its doors? What dramas had its members and visitors, both black and white, played out over the years? What spirits were disturbed as Captain Boo began to dismantle the ancient church building? Miss Genevieve, here, can give you one answer.

  Miss Genevieve took up the tale …

  Stories of those uneasy spirits began to circulate among the local people as Captain Boo began his work. Perhaps some of those stories were in the minds of those helping dismantle the church as work proceeded one dark and stormy morning. Suddenly a strange noise became noticeable. A faint humming seemed to come from the very air around the front of the church!

  My husband, Tom Chandler, was one of those helping move the building. He had always been sensitive to the spirit world and said that he began to have a shivery feeling between his shoulder blades as the hum grew louder and louder. Several workers glanced sideways at each other and at the partially dismantled building as they made excuses to leave.

  Was this a warning from Beyond? The braver, or more foolish, ones, including Tom, gradually began to investigate. They finally discovered the earthly source of the unearthly hum: their work had disturbed a colony of honeybees long resident inside one of the front porch columns. Closer examination showed that each of the four columns was packed with honeycomb and bees!

  The workers decided that it would be easier to build new columns for the porch once it was in place at Parsonage Point than to clean out and transport the old ones, so they left that part of the church building at Turkey Hill. They did manage to harvest much of the delicious honey and comb, taking the unexpected treat home to their families along with the story of the spirit humming.

  Cousin Corrie continued …

  So Parson Belin’s Turkey Hill Church became Belin Memorial Methodist Church on Parsonage Point. It is possible that the ghostly wrecks in the Inlet have some connection to people who used the church building in its previous life at Turkey Hill, people who came and went and sometimes lost their lives and fortunes in shipwrecks on creeks and rivers and oceans in the Lowcountry.

  ~

  But those who talk of ghostly wrecks have usually seen them only from the church porch steps. And these porch steps, strangely enough, have their own separate history.

  Travel on the Waccamaw Neck in the 1800s was difficult at best. The river served as the main thoroughfare as progress overland along the primitive King’s Highway was slow and tiresome. But travel on the river also required much effort as well as careful timing to take advantage of tidal flows.

  The Church of England, and then, after the American Revolution, the Episcopal Church, designated all of the thirty-mile-long Waccamaw Neck as All Saints Parish. Rice planters had originally built the parish church inland from Pawley’s Island on land donated by Thomas Pawley, one of the early planters. It was about in the middle of the Waccamaw Neck, just five miles south of Brookgreen Gardens. All Saints Church, now in its fourth incarnation, has a long and interesting history (but that’s another story). The point is that it was hard for planters and their families living on the northern and southern extremes of the Waccamaw Neck to get to All Saints Church regularly for services.

  Planters solved this problem by building small chapels on their own plantations where their families and servants gathered for Sunday services most weeks, in between their less frequent visits to services at All Saints Church. Sometimes several planters got together to build a “chapel-of-ease” to be shared by all families in an area. The minister of All Saints Church occasionally visited these chapels but often planters themselves conducted services.

  One such chapel-of-ease, called St. John-the-Evangelist Chapel, was built in a grove of trees overlooking the Waccamaw River on Wachesaw Plantation a few miles north of Brookgreen Gardens. Some say Dr. Allard Flagg of the Hermitage, a grandson of Rachel Moore Allston Flagg and Dr. Henry Flagg of Brookgreen Plantation, built St. John-the-Evangelist Chapel shortly before the War Between the States. Others say it was much older.

  Although the chapel was simple, it was made of the finest heartwood pine and cypress. Six sandstone slabs brought by ship from England, three for the front, two for the side, and one for the back, served as steps for the small chapel. By 1860, planters and their servants from the northern part of the Waccamaw Neck and those from Sandy Island behind Brookgreen Gardens as well as seafaring folk from Murrells Inlet were all attending services regularly at St. John-the-Evangelist Chapel.

  When the War came, the United States Navy made ending Confederate trade with the rest of the world its primary mission. The South Atlantic Blockading Squadron under the command of Admiral John Dahlgren began forming naval blockades around all main southern ports to keep ships of any type from going in or out. Of course, daring ship captains like the dashing Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, whether motivated by patriotism for the Southern Cause or financial rewards of trading in valuable commodities, immediately began running the blockade.

  Early in the War, most blockade runners slipped into larger ports such as Charleston and Georgetown here in South Carolina or Wilmington up in North Carolina. However by the middle of the War, Union gunboats had successfully blockaded all larger southern ports. Smaller ports became the lifeblood of the Confederacy. Confederate blockade runners began operating out of Murrells Inlet, risking, and sometimes losing, their lives and ves
sels in attempts to keep Confederate trade with the rest of the world open.

  >>> <<<

  Another Historical Digression

  Cousin Corrie talks about Confederate Trade Routes

  Quite elaborate trade routes developed along long, intricate, and often arduous pathways for vital commodities heading to or from blockade runners at Murrells Inlet. Wachesaw Landing, on the Waccamaw River just across the Waccamaw Neck from Murrells Inlet, became the gathering point for goods from all over this part of the state.

  Rice produced on plantations along the lower Waccamaw River was loaded onto flats and rowed or poled upstream to Wachesaw Landing. Rice from plantations along the lower Pee Dee River farther inland was loaded onto flats that were first floated down the Pee Dee to Winyah Bay, then rowed over to the mouth of the Waccamaw, and from there, rowed or poled upstream to Wachesaw Landing. These were simple routes but ones that required substantial effort.

  Flats loaded with timber or naval stores, mainly pitch and tar, from the upper Waccamaw River floated downriver to Wachesaw Landing directly and much more easily. Flats carrying the same materials from the upper Pee Dee River took an equally easy but more complicated route. First, they floated fifty or sixty miles down the Pee Dee River to just past where it enters Georgetown County.

  At that point, the Pee Dee and the Waccamaw Rivers begin to flow parallel to each other only a mile or so apart for their remaining fifteen miles until they empty into Winyah Bay near Georgetown. Several small creeks criss cross the swamps between them, interconnecting the two rivers in an intricate web.

  Twisty turney Bull Creek actually carries a substantial amount of water from the Pee Dee River through the cypress swamps and into the Waccamaw River at Longwood Plantation (once owned by my Cousin Jack Green, often called “Drunken Jack,” but that’s another story).