Sam Smith - Maine is one of the few places that still remembers the War of 1812. As Wikipedia explains:
British army and naval forces from nearby Nova Scotia captured and occupied the eastern coast from Eastport to Castine, and plundered the Penobscot River towns of Hampden and Bangor. . . . Maine's vulnerability to foreign invasion, and its lack of protection by Massachusetts, were important factors in the post-war momentum for statehood.
To celebrate the 200th anniversary some of us gathered near Porter's Landing in South Freeport on Casco Bay to listen to a program of nautical ballads. The spot was near where the privateer Dash had been built, of which the Freeport Historical Society notes: "With seven voyages under four captains taking fifteen prizes, she was one of the most successful privateers of the War of 1812. Her record was never equaled."
For me, it was a vessel of more recent history. In 1975, I had been sitting next to my mother at Sunday lunch with my family. She looked out at sea and said to no one in particular, "Oh look, there's the ghost ship of Harpswell." My reaction was to think, well, there she goes again. And then to think no more about it.
A few hours later, down on the shore, my father had a heart attack and died. As we returned from the hospital and parked the car, my mother suddenly cried, "The ghost ship of Harpswell." "You're right," I said, because now I remembered, too.
We went inside and pulled out a volume of John Greenleaf Whittier's poems and found it. The ghost ship of Harpswell had been the privateer Dash, which had been lost at sea after compiling its remarkable record. It would be later said that women saw the vessel just before their husbands died, but would make nothing of it. Whittier called it The Dead Ship of Harpswell:
And men shall sigh, and women weep,
Whose dear ones pale and pine,
And sadly over sunset seas
Await the ghostly sign.
They know not that its sails are filled
By pity's tender breath
Nor see the Angel at the Helm
Who steers the Ship of Death.
The Dash is far from the only maritime legend of island-studded Casco Bay. In the lower corner of the bay is Portland, one of the east coast's great natural harbors, with a channel deeper than that of Boston, Philadelphia or New York. During World War II, the Navy formed transatlantic convoys and moored as many as 60 vessels off Portland. The islands provided a natural barrier to storms and enemy subs, with anti-submarine netting strung between them completing the task.
The Atlantic coast was far more dangerous than Americans realized. Years after the war it would be revealed that in the first months 46 merchant ships were sunk off the east coast. Another 126 would be sunk before the war was over. And Portland was among the first targets for U-boats after war was declared. At least three U-boats were sunk near Casco Bay - one five miles southeast of the Portland sea buoy, one off Small Point and the other seven miles off Halfway Rock after being spotted by shore gunners on Bailey's Island.
The U-boat story even came closer to home than that. Emily Rhoades lived part of the war on Bowman's Island. One night, around midnight, she went out to get some water at the well. Standing by the well was a man all dressed black including a black mask. He put his finger to his mouth and pointed her back to the house. There was little doubt about how he had gotten there.