Off Season - Jack Ketchum [15]
Then on January 19, 1858, a terrible gale struck the coast of New England, making a complete breach of the Island’s sea-wall and, as the tide came in, flooding the keeper’s house entirely, until finally the only habitable spot on the Island was the tower of the Light. Luckily, the Light itself held throughout the gale, and Daniel Cook and his family all were spared. They had gathered their hens together in good time, managing to rescue all but one. But for five weeks thereafter, owing to rough weather, no landing could be effected on the Island.
At this point the story becomes slightly unclear. Apparently Cook and his son Burgess set out from the Light at some time during the morning of either January 29th or 30th, feeling that the storm had abated sufficiently so that it would be possible to sail to the mainland to obtain provisions, food and water. By this time the hens were gone. Their skiff was small, its sail homemade, and neither Cook nor his son were ever heard from again. Meantime Mrs. Cook and her daughters were reduced to daily rations of one egg and a cup of corn meal per day, and that supply soon went the way of the hens.
On the 23rd of February a landing on the rock was finally effected by Captain Warren of Booth Bay. He found only one survivor, the daughter Libby, by that time quite hysterical and nearly perished for want of food. Their ordeal had lasted a full thirty-three days. Tragically, Mrs. Cook had died only the day before. Libby had buried her in a shallow grave some few yards to the north of the Light; and had done so alone, for her sister Agnes had disappeared some days previously. Her own search had revealed no trace of her, whether drowned or lost; nor did the Captain’s subsequent efforts clarify the matter.
Mrs. Cook was exhumed and buried at Christ Church in Lubec a few days later. Libby Cook was taken to the home of her great-aunt Mrs. White, also of Lubec, and lived out the remainder of her life there alone after the aunt died in 1864, though apparently she never quite recovered from the incident. It was her contention that her sister was still alive somewhere on the island. But of Agnes Cook no trace was ever found.
A month following the incident a new keeper of Barnet Light was appointed, one James Richards of Dead River, who held the post until early the following year, 1859, when he relinquished it to Lowell S. Dow, who, like Daniel Cook before him, brought with him his entire family—wife, infant son, and daughter. Again tragedy struck the Island. In 1865 Dow’s son, then seven years old, disappeared, believed to have been washed out to sea while playing too near the shoreline. Again an exhaustive search for the boy turned up nothing. Apart from this second tragedy, the lonely post remained occupied without incident until the Light was abandoned twenty-seven years later.
It is always amusing to note what the locals make of such drama. As noted previously, the Maine-iac is a born storyteller. In this case, the local intelligence has it that Libby Cook was quite right about her sister Agnes; that she did not die on the Island but instead turned mad and savage out of pure starvation, hiding from her sister and her doomed mother in one of the many granite caves which dot the high northern Barnet cliffs. Likewise the disappearance of the Dow boy is also attributed to Agnes; a simple kidnap to assuage her great, consuming loneliness. To this day, the two ghost children are said to gambol through the ruins of the old Lighthouse, through the haunts of terns and eiders, in search of other youngsters; and children are threatened by stern and unkind mothers with the ghost of Agnes Cook . . .
What better place, thought Marjie, to put away a book for the night than at the end of a ghost story. She turned off the light beside her bed. And very shortly she was asleep, the