I grew up walking the shores of Garter Bay looking for what I consider treasures. So many neat objects wash up on the shores of this bay, especially during the Winter. In the Winter, the tides are at their lowest point early in the morning. This, coupled with winter cold fronts blowing wind from the North push much of the water out of the bay exposing swaths of seabed that have been submerged for years.
My favorite thing to hunt for when the tides cooperate are bottles, the older the better. I have a collection of 15 or so bottles over a hundred years old, some older than 140 years. I’m now in my late 20’s, and I thought by now I’d discovered all the best treasures of the western shore but that was not the case; a few months ago I made a discovery that would change my life.
In early February we had very low tides and an unusually strong cold front was headed our way. I knew about a week ahead of time that conditions would be perfect, so I planned a trip a few miles down the coast where I’ve made some of my best finds. There was a horse track on the waterfront at this location in the 1830’s, and by the 1880’s it seemed to disappear from local archives. I’ve found horseshoes, coins, mouth-blown bottles, and many other awesome pieces so I was very excited to go back.
When the day came I packed my gear and hurried to the site. I knew it would be a good day when I got there- the tide was out at least 100 yards which typically means the oldest stuff will be exposed, and I was right! About an hour after arriving I came across what I thought was an old bulkhead 50 yards out. The barnacle encrusted wood protruded from the mud about a foot, and stretched for 100 feet. I walked the length of it looking for bottles, and when I got to the end I found what I believe were remnants of an old chest - which seemed out of place - until I turned around. What I thought was an old bulkhead was actually the starboard hull of a huge schooner. The chest was located dead center of the stern and in the chest was a bottle hunter’s holy grail- a handmade clay jug.
I immediately pulled the jug from what was left of the chest and brushed off the barnacles- this thing was beautiful! A handmade, green-glazed jug without a scratch- how is this even possible? To add to the mystery is the fact that there’s no signature nor hallmark present. Back in the day they took great pride in making jugs, so to find one without a signature is unheard of.
I rushed home, stashed it in the shed with the rest of my collection, and began my research; this is my favorite part of finding old treasures. The lack of signature was a dead end, so I started looking for information about the ship. This would surely yield some information.
After weeks of searching online I brought the jug to our local museum which has a catalog of all historic wrecks in the bay- this is where things get strange. They told me that only three ships of that size and age sunk in the bay; the closest is about seven miles down the coast. And as for the jug- they’d never seen one like it. The deep green glaze and lack of signature is apparently unheard of- they told me it may be one of a kind and to take great care of it.
The mystery of the jug and the ship inspired me to go back and do my own investigation. Another strong cold front was headed our way and would arrive in two days so I planned another trip.
The following evening I was settling down for the night and planning the logistics of the next trip. At around 12 AM I made my rounds locking doors and shutting off lights around the house. My bedroom has a large window that faces the shed where I keep my bottle collection. I keep the blinds open at night to let the moonlight in; this always helps me sleep. The shed is 100 feet from the house and has a single window facing my bedroom.
I laid in bed and began drifting off when a light caught my attention. I walked over to the window and saw that somehow my shed light was turned on which has never happened before- it can only be turned on from inside the shed. I got out of bed, walked to the shed, and peered through the window. I didn’t see anything so I went in, turned off the light, and went to bed.
I woke up early the next morning and made my way to the site. The conditions were perfect- even better than last time so I had high hopes. I arrived at the site and to my dismay there’s nothing there. Nothing at all. Not a piece of iron, not a scrap of wood, just the exposed seabed. I know I’m in the exact location because I pinned the coordinates with GPS. Where did it go? It’s a huge ship buried in mud- it did not float away. No storms came through so it couldn’t have been covered by mud. I’m at a loss.
It’s now late February, about a week after I found the jug. I had a rough day at the office but at least I have my bottle collection. I go to the shed and admire my new jug- what a beauty! I know nothing about it but that’s ok. Later that night I had a terrible nightmare about the jug. In this dream I remember hearing a low howl. It’s hard to describe the sound; best I can do is compare it to wind blowing over a hollow vessel- something like a jug. The noise seemed to be right next to my head yet distant at once. I wake up from this dream pouring with sweat, wipe my face, look out the window and see the shed light is on again. I know I turned it off that evening, didn’t I? I go to the shed and peer through the window. Nothing there so I turn off the light and head back to the house. I have some dirt on my feet from making the walk barefoot but i’m tired, and I go to bed anyway.
Nearly a month after finding the jug I have the same nightmare, except this time the sound persists when I wake up. I turn my head to look out the window and the shed light is on. I get up and grab my gun and slowly walk to the shed. With every step I take the howl gets more quiet. I reach the window with my gun drawn and the howl stops. I peer through the window and there she is. I didn’t see with my eyes, but felt with my soul the presence of a woman. She was in front of me yet decades away. The room is white with light and the emotion overwhelms me. I drop my gun, run inside and lock all the doors. I felt physically ill and was more terrified than i’ve ever been. I have some dirt on my feet from running back barefoot but i’m tired, and I go to bed anyway.
The next day I come home early and go straight to my shed to investigate. Nothing is out of place. The jug is exactly where I left it. I’m now afraid to touch it so I cover it with a rag and go back to the house.
The dreams go away for weeks. For a few days I thought I was going crazy and actually considered seeing a psychiatrist. My life is back to normal- almost. I’ve noticed that my feet are unusually dirty when I take my morning showers. I work a desk job and I wear clean socks so it was kind of a mystery to me. Perhaps I folded dirty socks or something.
It’s now April and I feel like reality is falling apart around me. It has been two months since I found the jug and the dream came back. The howl- it sounded so close but somehow so far. I get out of bed, walk to the window and the shed light is off. I look down and see that my feet are dirty. I look up in time to see the shed light turn on. Am I awake or am I dreaming? Am I going crazy? Why is this happening to me? Why are my feet dirty?
I found a jug with someone inside and they won’t leave me alone.