Ghostly encounter on beach
MOST of us enjoy ghost stories and nobody is said to be more superstitious than a sailor, so maybe it is not surprising that the sea brings forth many a ghostly, or paranormal, story.
We’ve all read of the premonitions that helped people avoid sailing on illfated ships, like the Waratah which disappeared soon after leaving Durban.
One of the most celebrated ghostly stories concerns the “Flying Dutchman” and Captain Van der Decken’s endless journeying around the waters of the Cape.
Shipping has a long history in South Africa, stretching back at least 2 600 years, and it would be even more surprising if there weren’t any other unexplained things along our coastline. That goes equally for KwaZulu-Natal, except that its coastal history is less wellknown and it’s safe to say that more ships have been wrecked off KZN than have been recorded.
How many survivors struggled ashore when their sailing ships went down in the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, only to succumb to an inability to survive on land, is something that is impossible to know.
Our story with a ghostly twist comes from Wendy Ballenden, who was crowned Miss South Africa in 1967.
Before she achieved such heights, as a child she would often visit her grandparents, who traded in Ntumeni in Zululand.
When she was 12, her family went camping at the mouth of the Mtunzini alongside the lagoon. One night, she and her grandfather, Sonny Bishop, walked along the beach to collect ghost crabs to use as live bait when fishing for salmon.
In Ballenden’s words: “We walked along the beach when everything went dark as if the clouds were covering the moon, while thick mist wafted towards us. Grandpa turned on his torch and shone it towards the mist when, all of a sudden, a very tall man dressed in a very stylish uniform with a three-pointed strange hat came out of the mist, walking towards us.
My grandpa took my hand. I was getting nervous and carried on talking, “Grandpa, I don’t want to break the crab’s legs, I will put it into your sack for you. I know how to hold them.” Grandpa answered, “Sure.” But this man kept coming towards us. He had his right hand across his chest, like you would imagine Napoleon to have done. He had a very determined look on his face. He looked rugged and strong as he passed me on my right. I know he knew I was there because, with me looking at him all the time, as he passed a soft smile crossed his face although he took no other notice of us and carried on walking.
I was intrigued as to where he was going. “Who is he, Grandpa?” I asked while watching him all the time. “I liked him, he seemed kind and gentle.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” said Grandpa. “I see him often. He is the captain of the Portuguese ship that went down near here.”
I watched the mysterious man turn and just walk into the sea without being pushed around by the waves. First up to his ankles, then his knees, then his waist, then his neck, but he kept going until, to my horror, even his head could no longer be seen, just the foaming of the waves where he had been.
Grandpa must have noticed my look because he said, “Wendy, he knows exactly where he is going. A captain will never leave his ship.”
“Why not?” asked I. “What is he guarding?” “A secret maybe,” said Grandpa. The mist cleared as suddenly as it came and there in front of my grandpa were so many ghost crabs on the beach that he started doing the Highland fling.
I was left with wondering whether I shouldn’t have put out my hand and touched the captain’s arm. He seemed so real.”