Ghosts of Berkeley County, South Carolina Page 2

  The schoolmaster had been interrupted from his study of Plato by the screams of his wife. She had discovered that Catherine was missing and, after searching everywhere, became extremely alarmed. She then alerted her husband to the disappearance. The concern and alarm was not for the missing child because, in actuality, neither of them cared about Catherine. What they were most concerned with was the fact that Elias Ball had placed her in their care, and he, along with many of the child’s relatives, was very influential in St. John’s Parish and in the entire province. They were concerned with what would happen to them if something might happen to the child. Now that dinnertime had come and gone without sign of the child, he knew that he would have to extend the search to outside of the schoolhouse.

  Monsieur Dutarque had grown very angry. He was underpaid, and although he carried the credentials to be the schoolmaster, he was a man who despised children. To say he was unfit to be the schoolmaster would be an understatement. The man had armed himself with his horse pistols and a great length of rope and had set out to search for the missing child. The Dutarques agreed not to sound the alarm until after he had made a search of the town. If he could not find the child, then the two of them would sit down and conceive of some elaborate lie to remove the focus of blame from themselves.

  As Monsieur Dutarque began his search, he stumbled across the linen that the child had been given to sew. His heart jumped into his throat as fear gripped him. He knew that something horrible had happened to the child and that made him smile, but then the pleasure was short-lived as he realized that he would surely be hanged. He was at a section of town known as Colledge Square, where the markets assembled just outside the ferry. Just as he was about to give up on the child and begin creating a story of her falling into the river, the little imp rose up from behind a tree. The schoolmaster’s fear turned to anger. His anger then turned to rage.

  He would have loved to have beaten her with a whip as he had done to the slaves he had been overseer of in a faraway parish. He had concealed this and many other facts of his life from those who had employed him. He truly wished he could inflict the pain on the child that he had inflicted on so many slaves. Inflicting pain had always given him so much pleasure.

  He reached down and snatched the child by the arm and shook her. “Sacrebleau!” he hissed. “What mean you naughty, willful wench! Do you know what hour of the day it is? What am I to say to Madame, your mother?”

  Catherine’s lip quivered. She tried to answer that she had meant no harm, but it all broke out in one feeble, sobbing, childish cry: “I wanted to be outdoors! I wanted to be outdoors!” “Aha! Outdoors, is it?” said the angry schoolmaster. “Outdoors? I myself will give you enough outdoors Mademoiselle. Outdoors—parbleu! She shall haf outdoors, vraiment!” In his wrath, the excellent English of the schoolmaster had momentarily escaped him. Straight up Ferry Street he dragged her, she making no resistance, and along Church Street as far as the wicket gate made in the cedar fence. The grip on her arm was like iron, and they met no one to whom Catherine could call to deliver her from her angry captor. She kept Flying Childers tightly clasped, glad in her extremity that her pet would suffer without a sound. What was Monsieur Dutarque about to do with her?

  He knew he could not strike her, so immediately he contrived another form of punishment. With the rope he had carried he bound Catherine tightly with her back against a tombstone, her hands behind her and her shoulders strained back with cruel knots. “V’la!” he said, pausing to look at his work. “You s’all haf yo’ outdoors! And ven you s’all be fatigue, you may call. Maybe I come.”

  In adjusting the final knot, he noticed her tightly clenched hand and forced it open. There he saw the turtle Flying Childers hidden there. He snatched it away from her and bashed the helpless creature against the tombstone with all his might, killing it in front of the horrified child. Stepping back and admiring his work, he let out a light chuckle and then walked away, ignoring the child’s pitiful pleas to release her and not leave her.

  The child struggled to free herself but was unsuccessful. Her screams and pleas drifted off into the night. The more she struggled the wearier she became and the more faint her pitiful cries became. A neighbor, James Macnamara, heard the cries and originally thought they were from an owl. As he listened, he thought that they sounded like Catherine Chicken. He left his house and called out but had no response. He had an uneasy feeling, and he went to see the Dutarques. They informed him that Catherine was staying with her aunt, Hannah Harleston. There was something not right about how the Dutarques were behaving, and Macnamara returned to get his horse and rode out to the home of Catherine’s aunt. When he learned that she was not there and his suspicions were confirmed, half the countryside was alerted. In the meantime, the Dutarques had no idea what was taking place, and the exhausted Catherine had passed out from her struggles and the overwhelming fear she was feeling. It is unimaginable to even begin to comprehend the utter terror that the seven-year-old child was experiencing at being tied to a tombstone inside a graveyard and left there in the dark. Catherine had been tied standing up and, now quite weary, had cried herself to sleep and was hanging painfully from her restraints.

  In those days, there were curfews for the protection of the citizens of Childsbury. There were also strict laws regarding the slaves of the town. One slave, known as Money, happened to be out past the curfew. He was in fear of his life, so he had constructed a device to scare anyone away who might approach. He had taken a gourd and carved a grotesque face in it. He then placed it on top of a long pole and put a candle inside it. The hideous face would be mistaken for a demon, and anyone approaching would be frightened away, especially since he was taking a shortcut through the cemetery.

  A cemetery near Strawberry Chapel, where Catherine Chicken was left tied to a tombstone. Courtesy of KOP Shots.

  As Money walked through the cemetery, Catherine awakened. The first thing the poor child saw was the demonic face burning eight feet above the ground and coming in her direction. The child let out a terrified scream and fainted. Money also screamed and dropped the gourd. As he turned to flee, he saw the child suspended from the tombstone.

  Money now faced a dilemma. Should he get help for the child and risk being beaten for being out past curfew, or should he leave her there and hope that she would be found? Soon the area was filled with the sounds of men, dogs and horses already searching for the child. At that moment, Money decided that the child had never done anything to anyone and did not deserve the fate she was suffering. As a slave, he could relate to the child. How often had he been tied and beaten for something trivial or something he had no control over? Too many was the answer.

  As the slave began to move toward the men, Catherine cried out in a pitiful voice, “Monsieur Dutarque, why did you leave me here.” The slave immediately realized that the schoolmaster had been the culprit and had left the child there. He immediately ran to the men and told them of his discovery. Catherine was cut down and taken away to be seen by the physician. The mob then turned its focus on the Dutarques. They were dragged from their beds and held captive in the schoolhouse, with James Macnamara standing guard. Many called for their hanging by the same rope the child had been bound with, but many more understood that the law should handle the matter.

  The next day, it was determined that the child might not live, and her face was drooped with palsy. She was also speechless, and although it was obvious that she was having nightmares, she never uttered a word. The anger in the town grew as preparations for a hearing were made. Several days passed, and the child remained bedridden. It was feared that the child might never awaken.

  On the very day of the hearing, Catherine awoke. She looked into the face of her mother and faintly mumbled, “Please don’t let them hurt poor Monsieur Dutarque.” The child, while unconscious, had undoubtedly been able to hear others speaking of Dutarque’s fate. She then requested her turtle.

  Word was relayed to the tribunal of young Cathe
rine’s request. Elias Ball had sent out a hunting party to find a replacement for the deceased pet, and when a passable substitute was found, he had it delivered to the child. He also told the gathering crowd of the child’s request for mercy. When he told the crowd that it was to be honored, there was a great cry of disbelief. Many claimed that it was an injustice, yet Elias Ball stood firm.

  Ball had Madame Dutarque escorted to the ferry and carried across the river, where she was deposited on the shore. He then turned his focus on Monsieur Dutarque. Elias Ball went over and whispered into Money’s ear. The slave grinned, walked over and grabbed Dutarque. He was stripped of his clothing down to his undergarments and then bound and placed on a mule, facing backward. The drummer boys of the militia were then gathered together and lined up behind the mule. Monsieur Dutarque was then escorted through town to the sound of the beating drums. The mule kicked and turned, and laughter arose from the crowd. Many gathered rocks, fruits, eggs and whatever they could find and pelted the former schoolmaster as he passed. He was then escorted down to the ferry and taken across the river. The mule was then struck with a whip, and it bolted off into the woods, carrying Monsieur Dutarque with it. Elias Ball had honored Catherine’s wishes, and no one in town harmed Monsieur Dutarque. He could speak for the town, but he could not speak for the bears, alligators and hostile Indians on the other side of the Cooper River. Dutarque had been drummed out of town, and his fate was left up to God much as he had left Catherine’s.

  Catherine recovered eventually. She always bore the drooped expression from the palsy that the trauma had inflicted on her. She grew into an adult and married Benjamin Simmons of Middleburg Plantation. It is also said that the slang term “being chicken” (feeling and expressing fear) was derived from Catherine Chicken’s ordeal.

  It is said that after death Catherine returned to the home in which she grew up. Luckins Plantation burned to the ground, and Rice Hope Plantation was built where it stood. Catherine’s spirit has apparently reverted back to a child, and she can be heard calling for her family and wandering about the house. The place has been converted into a wonderful bed-and-breakfast and has been operating as such since 1987. The Heron Room, the room that overlooks the river, is said to be the place where Catherine is most active. There used to be a rocking chair in the room that would continually rock the entire night. It has since been removed and relocated to another area of the house.

  Catherine is also said to haunt Strawberry Chapel, where she was bound and left. Her cries for help are said to be heard at night. The chapel and its grounds have been the subject of repeated vandalism and have been closed to the public. Permission must be granted before entering onto the property because trespassing laws are enforced by the sheriff’s office.

  As far as Monsieur Dutarque, he managed to escape death and find his way to Camden, South Carolina, where he became the French teacher for the Walnut School for Boys. He had carried with him an outdated letter of recommendation from a school he had taught at in New Orleans. He had carefully cut away the date. The citizens in Camden were excited to have a new French teacher and knew nothing about Monsieur Dutarque’s problems at Childsbury. The fourteen boys initially marveled at the tales Monsieur Dutarque told them of his travels abroad. When the inquiries became too personal for Dutarque’s taste, he had them rephrase the question in French. This worked well, and eventually he had the students only speak to him in French, although he spoke to them in English. This greatly diminished any chance of having to converse with the students in great detail, much to the teacher’s delight.

  One day, the boys entered the schoolroom and found Monsieur Dutarque missing. They waited for more than half an hour. Eventually one of the students asked the others if they heard a dripping sound. As they investigated, they discovered that the dripping was coming from Monsieur Dutarque’s desk. They discovered a huge pool of blood on the desk next to the final exams they had taken the previous day. One of the students, Jonathan Charles Fort, lifted his exam from the top of the stack. Every answer on his test was marked with a big bloody “X,” and at the top it was marked with the letter “F,” in blood. He handed out all of the tests to the respective students. Each one had been graded and scored an F. Every single paper had been graded in blood by Monsieur Dutarque.

  Rice Hope Plantation, formerly Luckins Plantation, where Catherine Chicken is said to haunt. Courtesy of KOP Shots.

  Apparently, he had not learned his lesson at Childsbury. In the months preceding the final exam, the schoolteacher had taken to being verbally abusive toward his students. The student often gathered at the well that served the schoolhouse, and he would approach the group every morning and begin chastising them about their appearance, their families and their lack of ever amounting to anything other than dirt farmers. He would point his finger in their faces and shake his fist. A multicolored bead bracelet he always wore, yet never spoke of, would rattle with every gesture. He would select a student to raise and lower the bucket as he drank his fill. The boys began to suspect that his overwhelming thirst for water had something to do with his overwhelming thirst for red wine the night before. This routine continued every morning until this morning, when the teacher had turned up missing.

  Monsieur Dutarque finally met poetic justice at the bottom of a well many miles from Childsbury. Courtesy of KOP Shots.

  No one knew what happened to the teacher, and speculation grew as to what may have happened. As the boys left for the harvest season, the school remained abandoned.

  Eventually, the boys returned to the school, and as usual they gathered around the well in the morning. One of the boys noticed that the bucket was lowered into the well, and he attempted to retrieve it. He tried with all his might, but the bucket would not budge. Another boy grabbed on to the lever, and the two tried to turn it with all their strength. Eventually, the bucket broke free, but it had an unusual weight to it. They continued to turn the crank until the bucket slowly rose to the service and revealed, much to their horror, the cause of its added weight.

  As the bucket rose to the top, it revealed the partially skeletonized torso of a human being. The skull contained remnants of black hair, and on the wrist was a multicolored beaded bracelet. It was the remains of the missing schoolteacher. Apparently, after grading the tests while in a drunken state, he had wandered out to retrieve water from the well. Obviously the inebriated man had lowered the bucket and then fallen into the well on top of it and had drowned. Justice had finally reached Monsieur Dutarque—grading the papers in blood was the last cruel act Dutarque ever committed against a child. He had died in the manner he had prepared to use as the excuse for Catherine Chicken’s disappearance. He had fallen in the well and drowned.

  BIGGIN CHURCH OF ST. JOHN’S PARISH

  I have heard many tales about the church on Biggin Hill, but one of the more recent and intriguing ones involved a man named Jacob Skelen and his encounter with the church in 2004. According to the story, Skelen had made a recent move, and within the first week he had begun receiving the assorted junk mail marked “current resident” that accompanies every move and postal change. As he was sorting the mail, one particular envelope caught his eye. It was aged and brittle. It was also sealed with wax that flaked off as soon as he touched it. The return address was marked Biggin Episcopal Church, St. John’s Parish, South Carolina. There was no zip code.

  Skelen was intrigued and opened the letter. Inside he found an equally old and brittle letter. He carefully unfolded it to find that it was handwritten in an indigo-colored ink. As he held it up, he saw the image of the face of Jesus, eyes closed and a crown of thorns encircling his head. The accompanying note told him to use the paper as a prayer rug, to kneel on it and pray from the book of Psalms. It advised that if he did so, he would see his prayer planted and harvested. The next line advised that the image of Christ would awaken after he had done so and then again looked directly at the image. Skelen’s curiosity was aroused, and he did as he was instructed. After reading
and praying from the book of Psalms, he again looked at the image. This time, the image’s eyes were wide open and staring back into his own eyes. Startled, he dropped the paper as if it had bitten him.

  The young man laughed and retrieved the paper. He then again peered at the image from all angles and reasoned that it had been the trick of some well-crafted watermark on the page. He finished reading the letter, which instructed him to write a prayer request, place the request and the letter back into the envelope, enclose an offering of his choice and mail it back to Biggin Episcopal Church. It ended by saying that Jesus would hear and honor his request and send the Holy Spirit to pass by his window that night.

  Skelen was very skeptical. He was a man who would not believe in anything that he could not see, but a spirit outside his window would undoubtedly change his opinion, he thought to himself.

  The next morning, Skelen could not recall anything unusual occurring in the night. As he prepared for the day, he again thought of the mysterious letter. As a joke, he decided to respond. On a note, he simply wrote that he wished to experience a ghost. It did not have to be the Holy Ghost—any ghost would do. He again surmised that any actions taken by any ghost would change his mind toward the things of this world that he could not see. He then laughed and tossed the envelope in the mail slot as he left.

  In the following months, he forgot about the letter he had received until one night in December, when he returned home to find a similar envelope halfway under his door. This time the letter contained two coins attached to it in a crumbling yellow wax. The letter informed him that his prayer had indeed been heard. It further informed him that the Holy Spirit had indeed seen him that night as it passed by his window. The letter also advised him to place one coin in his left shoe for all blessings past and one coin in his right shoe for all blessings yet to come. The past and the present would soon merge. The letter advised him to read from the twenty-eighth chapter of Deuteronomy and send his request back to the church. It asked him to keep the coins in his shoes the following day and then place one shoe inside his door and one outside his door that night.