Legends and Lore of the Mississippi Golden Gulf Coast (7 page)

Supposedly, the legend was remembered by many of the old-timers who lived before the days of electric lights and the railroad. The 1922 storyteller of the headless ghost of Deer Island was seventy-eight-year-old Biloxi resident Captain Eugene Tiblier Sr. In the 1920s, the story continued, with reports that others had also been chased off Deer Island by the headless ghost.

One can imagine that the headless ghost legend was the prank of some individuals. One could have easily hid in the bushes of Deer Island and devised the prank, using ropes and poles to raise the skeleton and make it appear to pursue the intended victim. Without any way to prove or disprove tales like this one, legends and ghost stories will continue to haunt Mississippi's Golden Gulf Coast, adding to the colorful history.

CHAPTER 8

T
HE
L
EGEND OF THE
B
EAUTIFUL
G
HOST OF
K
REBS
L
AKE

On August 15, 1849, a special correspondent of the
Times-Picayune
was visiting Pascagoula. The correspondent sent an article to his paper titled “Letter from East Pascagoula.” After spending time at the hotel and enjoying the sights of the Gulf waters, he turned his eyes to Krebs Lake, saying, “Many small bays indent the shores, and some of a majestic character. The lake in its length and breadth the magnificent expanse unbroken, though studded with unnumbered islet and the shores diversified with jutting cape and far shooting peninsula encloses sweet seclusions, each in itself highly picturesque.”

While he was taken by the beauty of Krebs Lake, the purpose of his boat journey was to see the local known as Uncle Ben. He found Uncle Ben standing “on a jutting point, with the patience of a saint, known a hundred miles around, as having caught every day a basket full [of fish] for twenty years.” Nearby was his cottage, which, according to the writer, had been built by Uncle Ben ten years prior.

The correspondent wrote, “My object in visiting Uncle Ben's Island was to test a report which is in current circulation, that a ghost is in the habit of appearing at a certain time and place on the water's edge.”

Uncle Ben told him that the spirit is that of a beautiful Scottish girl. He indicated a nearby point as the place where the girl drowned in 1829. He said that her spirit manifested as a white figure that arose from the trees and walked to a stone on the lake edge at midnight, where she sat down and appeared to become one with the stone. She was described as “somewhat fantastically dressed, even in her apparent despair, for her hands [were] crossed as if in prayer.” Her voice was sweet and low as she sometimes sang “as if to the stars, unconscious of all around except their mild radiance.” She was said to gently play a guitar but stops to contemplate the clear water of the lake. Her face was “still beautiful, beneath hair as white as snow.”

The Beautiful Ghost of Krebs Lake, Pascagoula.
Courtesy of Alan Santa Cruz Collection
.

The correspondent continued that her story, “like a dim tradition,” has faded over time and said that locally no one remembers her. That is, except Uncle Ben, who calls her “the fair Scottish girl.” Uncle Ben's story suggested that she was a nun “but the sacred veil was drawn aside by the hand of love.”

The fair Scottish girl had come to America with her lover. For two years, they enjoyed their love and life, but while at sea, he perished in a shipwreck. This is why she gazed down into the waters that touch the place where he sank and drowned. She was so forlorn in a lonesome land that she soon lost her mind. After many midnight journeys to the rock on Krebs Lake, she joined her lover in a watery grave. Uncle Ben stated, “That stone has in all weathers been the constant resting place of her spirit.”

CHAPTER 9

T
HE
I
NDIAN
L
EGEND OF THE
S
INGING
R
IVER

As long as humans have been communicating, there have been stories and legends passed along, in some cases from generation to generation. Yet even legends become a part of history when one can trace their origin deep into Mississippi's Golden Gulf Coast history.

The legend of the Singing River has been around for a very long time. The story goes that the Biloxi and Pascagoula Indians were enemies. Now mix in two young lovers, Anola from the Biloxi and Altama from the Pascagoula. In this story of forbidden love, the young lovers ended up in the village of the Pascagoulas. When the Biloxi chief learned that his daughter Anola had run away to the Pascagoula, he attacked his enemies. With their defeat imminent, the Pascagoulas marched singing into the dark waters of the Pascagoula River. Legend has it that in the still of night, one can still hear the singing coming from the Pascagoula River.

Though this is a great legend, historically we know that the Biloxi and Pascagoula were friends and allies. Descendants of the Biloxi and Pascagoula were recorded as living in Louisiana in the late 1800s. So they must have crossed to the other side of the river at some point. The questions remain: When did the legend start? How has it changed over time?

The legend is most likely older than the first historical evidence of it. The oldest documentation about the legend appears in the
New Orleans Times-Picayune
on August 7, 1838. The article by Mr. Besancon, the editor and owner of the
Mississippi Register
, refers to an ancient fortification on the eastern shore. According to the legend, the Biloxi were at war with a more powerful tribe. The Biloxi were defeated in every battle and finally driven to the shore. Here they built the fortification and began a long siege. In due time, their supplies were depleted, and despair overcame them. Finally, with no other recourse, they marched into the gulf and all perished.

The mouth of the Pascagoula River, aka the Singing River, late 1800s.
Courtesy of Alan Santa Cruz Collection
.

Notice the difference between these two recountings of the tale. In the newspaper version, it is the Biloxi, not Pascagoula, who march to their death while singing. The legend began to evolve in 1840 when the
Times-Picayune
retold the story. According to the paper, “finding death inevitable, yet heroically resolving not to die by their foes, the men folded their arms, the women pressed their children to their breasts, and the whole tribe walked into the bay, singing their death song and were drowned.”

In 1866, the legend would continue to evolve and finally took a new direction. On March 3, 1866, the
Times-Picayune
reported that in 1845, reporter Matthew J. Phasma wrote a poem about the “Legend of Pascagoula Bay.” In this version of “an ancient tradition,” no tribe is named. Here is the one verse from the poem.

In the
New Orleans Times
dated July 23, 1865, the Pascagoula Indians became the tribe at the center of the legend. The
Times
reported that the “brave and stalwart Pascagoulas, overpowered by a hostile tribe, sought death rather than defeat, and from whose sparkling waters their melancholy wan can be heard in the early twilight.”

On June 25, 1871, the
Times-Picayune
added another chapter to the Singing River Legend. In this version, the Pascagoula Indians were a peaceful tribe with powerful enemies making war against them. During one battle, the Pascagoulas were driven to the shoreline. “There the noble victims, finding there was no escape for them, preferred death to captivity. So women, men and children, with calm faces and chanting their death song, marched into the water and the whole tribe was thus exterminated. The spirits of the dead haunt the waters of Pascagoula Bay.”

By 1877, the mysterious music was reported by the
Times-Picayune
as being heard on the Pascagoula and Biloxi Bays. The writer reported, “The sound usually is heard at and after sunset, and sometimes in the night. It has been heard for more than fifty years.”

Another twist in the story occurs in an 1880
Times-Picayune
article titled “The Mystery of Pascagoula,” and in this version, one realizes that the story is always in the hands of the storyteller. Once again it is the Pascagoula tribe but in the village is Na Ha La, son of chief Mi Co No Pee. Now, Na Ha La loved Singing Thrush, but Leaping Tiger, who happened to be Na Ha La's archenemy, won Singing Thrush's heart. Yes, I know, the story is getting crazy. Well, Na Ha La attacked Leaping Tiger and murdered him. When the murder was reported to Chief Mi Co No Pee, he personally put his son Na Ha La to death and then took his own life. Wait—there's more. The tribe members gathered for a last tribute to the dead. Suddenly, they saw Singing Thrush drifting to sea, brokenhearted and singing her death song. The writer said that she was singing “strains so beautiful, so weird, so strange, yet not of earth.”

We have learned that the legend is in the hands of the storyteller, and many versions have been recorded. By 1890, the legend said that Oramaika, daughter of the Pascagoula chief, had fallen in love with Sultawah, a Mobilian Indian brave. Otalka of the Pascagoula was promised to Oramaika. Otalka followed Oramaika, who had gone to meet Sultawah at the Pascagoula River. As Sultawah was paddling away, Otalka shot him with an arrow. Oramaika swam to embrace Sultawah and die beside him. Otalka followed her, preventing her from embracing her lover, saying, “Thou shall not die with the traitor Sultawah! Thou shall die in Otalka's arms; and though thou lovest him not thou shall be his bride, even though it be in death!” The sound heard to this day is Oramaika's “sighs and weeps” while Otalka refuses to let her go.

Yazoo Lake Pascagoula.
Courtesy of Alan Santa Cruz Collection
.

Interestingly enough, the old version with the Biloxi at the center of the legend came to light again in the
New Orleans Item
article “Biloxi Indian Legend” on December 15, 1892. Reverend J. Owen Dorsey, of the United States Bureau of Ethnology, visited Howard Memorial Library in New Orleans to read his paper entitled “Two Biloxi Tales” to the American Folklore Society. Reverend Dorsey had interviewed two Biloxi Indian women at Lacombe, Rapides Parish, Louisiana, and recorded their language and legends. Reverend Dorsey reported, “The mysterious music at Biloxi is that when the Biloxi Indians were overcome by their enemies the conquered remnants of the tribe clasped hands and went down into the depths of the sea singing their old death chants.” The report stated that the music is still heard on summer nights and has caught the attention of scientists.

In 1922, the version of the legend with the Biloxi as the tribe that drowned was recounted in the
Daily Herald
. In the same article, Peter J. Hamilton, a Mobile historian, told the legend of the Pascagoula worshipping a beautiful mermaid. The mermaid appeared on rough seas, “pleading with irresistible music that her deluded children return to worship her, and come back they did.” She seduced them into deeper water, and everyone drowned.