Teach’s Lair
Stacy Alderman
At the westernmost point of Ocracoke Island, there is a trail that looks like it could be any other sand-strewn path through a maze of loblolly pines in coastal Carolina. Indeed, if you merely stumbled on the sign labeled Springer’s Point, you’d think it was nothing more than a shady place to take a relaxing stroll, to catch a brief respite from the hot summer sun.
But as you meander down this twisted trail and the daylight fades, you may start to feel like you’ve wandered into some shoreline version of another world. The dense foliage seems to suggest there are sights unseen just beyond your periphery. The trees are begging to whisper secrets of the storied history they’ve witnessed. The occasional shafts of sunlight break through the boughs just enough to remind you that you are in fact at the beach, on vacation. You shake off the eerie feeling and continue, the sugary soft sand kicking up at your feet.
Then you come upon a ground-level well, covered and latched tight with gnarled wood and a heavy metal lock. Goosebumps prickle at your skin. You glance around, wondering why it’s suddenly chilly and what on earth is beneath this strange abyss. As you scurry on, you eventually emerge onto the crescent shaped beach where the sun fades those goosebumps, and the gently lapping water suggests nothing of the violent history that took place just off this picturesque coastline.
But if you listen hard enough, you may hear the clash of swords, the anguished cry of men. You might be able to smell rum on the salt-tinged breeze. You may suddenly feel the urge to go digging for buried treasure.
After dipping your toes in the water and strolling along the coast, you head back to your cottage or B&B, but the bizarre feelings you experienced at Springer’s Point seem to stay with you. The presence is ubiquitous, impossible to ignore. A menacing flag flies from storefronts and locals’ homes. The rugged, fearsome likeness of one of history’s most recognizable rogues can be found in the museum at the edge of Hatteras, just across the Pamlico Sound. The legend of his violent death is recounted by guides giving darkened ghost tours, detailed by historians alongside beachfront bonfires. One of the most infamous pirates of the eighteenth century roamed these beaches and eventually met his end in these waters, and according to many, the ghost of Blackbeard still lingers. Some even insist that the pirate’s body rests at the bottom of that eerie well nestled in the woods.
Despite these legends of mythical proportion, despite the far-fetched tales of Blackbeard’s headless body swimming around the ship of his assailants’ before sinking to a watery grave, plenty of historical facts wait to be uncovered on this tiny, secluded island.
Duck into a local bookstore, where uneven floors boast jam-packed shelves filled with the island’s maritime history. Dozens of volumes are at your fingertips, ink and paper spanning the centuries since Blackbeard roamed these shores. Fact, fiction, fantasy – sometimes all in one.
Take the ferry across the sound to explore the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum, where barnacle-encrusted canons from this fearsome captain’s ship are on display for tourists to marvel over.
Meander through the British Cemetery and see the gravesites of the Howard family, descendants of Blackbeard’s quartermaster, William Howard, who made Ocracoke his home after his captain was murdered.
And if you’re bold enough, take a midnight walk through the narrow, winding streets of Ocracoke Island. Peer into the woods of Springer’s Point to see if you can catch a glimpse of the ghost with an unruly beard. Look for the mysterious green lights that bob and weave along the water’s edge. Decide for yourself if old Edward Teach still roams the beaches of this idyllic island town.
