Conventionally, we host costume parties, watch scary movies, carve pumpkins and light bonfires to celebrate the occasion, while the younger generations are off trick-or-treating down the road.

Just like any holiday we tend to celebrate, we can trace the origin of Halloween far back in time. Beyond the scary pranks and the spooky outfits, the festivities have a rich, cultural history.

Celtic Origins

The origins of Halloween can be traced back all the way to the ancient Celtic festival known as Samhain – pronounced ‘sow-in’ in Gaelic language. It was originally an event that marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter in Ireland. The day after, on 1 November, would mark the ancient Celts’ new year.

Like other ancient Gaelic festivals, Samhain was seen to be a liminal time, when the boundaries separating the spiritual world and the real world were reduced. This is why Halloween has become associated with appearance of spirits, fairies and ghosts from the mythical ‘Otherworld’.

Images from a Celtic cauldron found in Denmark, dating back to 1st Century BC. (Image Credit: CC).

Evil Spirits

When the lines were blurred between worlds of the living and the dead, Celts used the opportunity to honour and worship their ancestors. Many, however, were concerned about the access darker and evil spirits had to influence those in the real world.

This is why many Celts dressed their children as demons to confuse the evil spirits and marked their doors with animal blood to deter unwanted visitors.

Sacrifice

With newly uncovered archaeological evidence, historians are almost certain that animal, as well as human sacrifices, were made during Samhain to honour the dead and the Celtic Gods. It is thought that the famous ‘Irish Bog Bodies’ may be the remains of Kings who were sacrificed. They suffered the ‘threefold death’, which involved wounding, burning and drowning.

Crops were also burnt and bonfires were made as part of the worship of Celtic deities. Some sources claim these fires were made to honour the ancestors, while others indicate that these fires were part of the deterrence of evil spirits.

Roman and Christian Influence

Once Roman forces had conquered a vast amount of Celtic territory by 43 AD in Northern France and the British Isles, traditional Roman religious festivals were assimilated with the pagan celebrations.

The Roman festival of Feralia was traditionally celebrated in late October (although some historians suggest the festival occurred in February). It was a day to commemorate the souls and spirits of the dead, and was hence one of the first festivals to be combined with the Celtic festival of Samhain.

Another festival was the day of Pomona, the Roman goddess of fruit and trees. In Roman religion, the symbol that represented this goddess was an apple. This has led many to believe the Halloween tradition of apple bobbing originated from this Roman influence on the Celtic celebration.

“Snap-Apple Night”, painted by Irish artist Daniel Maclise in 1833. It was inspired by a Halloween party he attended in Blarney, Ireland, in 1832. (Image Credit: Public Domain).

It is believed that from the 9th century AD, Christianity had began to influence and displace old pagan rituals within the Celtic regions. At the behest of Pope Gregory VI, ‘All Hallows’ Day’ was assigned to the date of 1 November – the first day of the Celtic new year. The Pope, nevertheless, renamed the event ‘All Saints’ Day’, in honour of all the Christian Saints.

‘All Saints’ Day’ and ‘All Hallows’ Day’ are terms that have been used interchangeably throughout history. The eve before these dates was then called ‘Hallowe’en’ – a contraction of ‘Hallows’ Evening’. In the last century however, the holiday has been referred to simply as Halloween, celebrated on ‘Eve’ before the Day of the Hallows, on 31 October.

The two brothers disappeared from the tower, presumed dead, and were never seen again. Richard III took the crown in Edward’s absence.

At the time and for centuries afterwards, the mystery of the ‘Princes in the Tower’ caused intrigue, speculation and revulsion, as historic voices including Sir Thomas More and William Shakespeare weighed in on who was to blame.

Typically, the princes’ uncle and would-be king, Richard III, has been blamed for their disappearance and probable deaths: he had the most to gain from the deaths of his nephews.

Overshadowed by monstrous depictions of their uncle, Edward and Richard have largely been lumped together as simply the ‘Princes in the Tower’. However, although their stories share the same ending, Edward and Richard lived almost completely separate lives until they were sent to the tower in 1483.

Here’s an introduction to the vanished ‘Brothers York’.

Born into conflict

Edward V and Richard of Shrewsbury were born and raised behind the backdrop of the Wars of the Roses, a series of civil wars in England between 1455 and 1485 that saw two houses of the Plantagenet family battle for the crown. The Lancasters (symbolised by the red rose) were led by King Henry VI, while the Yorks (symbolised by the white rose) were led by Edward IV.

In 1461 Edward IV captured the Lancastrian king, Henry VI, and, having imprisoned him in the Tower of London, crowned himself King of England. Yet his victory was not concrete, and Edward had to continue defending his throne. Complicating matters further, in 1464 Edward married a widow called Elizabeth Woodville.

Although she was from a genteel family, Elizabeth had no important titles and her former husband had even been a Lancastrian supporter. Knowing this was an unpopular match, Edward married Elizabeth in secret.

A miniature depiction of the secret wedding of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville at her family chapel.

Image Credit: Bibliothèque nationale de France / Public Domain

In fact, the marriage was so unpopular that the Earl of Warwick (known as the ‘Kingmaker’), who was trying to set up Edward with a French princess, switched to the Lancastrian side of the conflict.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth and Edward had a long and successful marriage. They had 10 children, including the ‘Princes in the Tower’, Edward V and Richard of Shrewsbury. Their eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, would eventually marry Henry Tudor, the future King Henry VII, uniting to end years of civil war.

Edward V

The first son of Edward IV and Elizabeth, Edward was born on 2 November 1470 at the Abbot of Westminster’s house. His mother had sought sanctuary there after her husband had been deposed. As the first son of the Yorkist king, baby Edward was made Prince of Wales in June 1471 when his father regained his throne.

Instead of living with his parents, Prince Edward grew up under the supervision of his maternal uncle, Anthony Woodville, 2nd Earl of Rivers. On the orders of his father, Edward observed a strict daily schedule, beginning with Mass and breakfast, followed by studies and reading noble literature.

Anthony was a notable scholar, which appears to have rubbed off on his nephew. Edward was described by Dominic Mancini, an Italian religious visitor to England, as “polite nay rather scholarly” with “attainments far beyond his age”.

On 14 April 1483, Edward heard of his father’s death. Now the new king, he left his home at Ludlow intending to be escorted to his coronation by the Protector assigned in his father’s will – the former king’s brother, Richard of York.

A portrait of the young king, Edward V.

Image Credit: National Portrait Gallery / Public Domain

Instead, Edward travelled without his uncle to Stony Stratford. Richard was not pleased and, despite the young king’s protests, had Edward’s company – his uncle Anthony, his half-brother Richard Grey and his chamberlain, Thomas Vaughan – executed.

On 19 May 1483, Richard had King Edward move to the royal residence at the Tower of London, where he awaited coronation. Yet the coronation never came. A sermon was preached by the Bishop of Bath and Wells in June declaring that Edward IV had been bound to another marriage contract when he married Elizabeth Woodville.

This meant the marriage was void, all their children were illegitimate and Edward was no longer the rightful king.

Richard of Shrewsbury

As his title suggests, Richard was born in Shrewsbury on 17 August 1473. The next year, he was made Duke of York, beginning a royal tradition of giving the second son of the English monarch the title. Unlike his brother, Richard grew up alongside his sisters in the palaces of London and would have been a familiar face in the royal court.

At just age 4, Richard was married to the 5-year-old Anne de Mowbray, 8th Countess of Norfolk, on 15 January 1478. Anne had gained a massive inheritance from her father, including great swathes of land in the east that Edward IV wanted. The king changed the law so that his son could inherit his wife’s property immediately, although Anne died only a few years later in 1481.

When his brother’s short reign ended in June 1483, Richard was removed from the line of succession and was sent to join his brother in the Tower of London, where he was occasionally seen with his brother in the garden.

After the summer of 1483, Richard and Edward were never seen again. The mystery of the Princes in the Tower was born.

The Survival of the Princes in the Tower by Matthew Lewis is a History Hit Book Club book of the month.

The History Hit Book Club is the new way to enjoy reading books that spark rich conversations about history. Every month we carefully select a history book to read and discuss with like-minded members. Membership includes a £5 voucher towards the cost of the book each month from leading ethical online book and entertainment retailer hive.co.uk, exclusive access to a Q&A with the author and much more.

Here are 4 enduring maritime mysteries.

1. The explosion of the USS Maine

In 1898, the United States Navy ship Maine exploded in Havana Bay, Cuba. A battleship commissioned only four years earlier, it was stationed in Havana Harbor to protect American interests during the Cuban War of Independence. This was done at the urging of the assistant secretary of the navy, the future President Theodore Roosevelt.

Its mysterious explosion and sinking on 15 February killed 268 sailors. Was it an act of war by the Spanish, jealous of American ambitions in Cuba over which their own control was slipping? Or was the explosion instead the result of a spontaneous combustion in the ship’s coal bunkers? The next day, President McKinley wrote that the United States “can afford to withhold its judgement and not strike an avenging blow until the truth is known.”

USS Maine entering Havana Harbor on 25 January 1898, three weeks before her destruction.

Image Credit: Public Domain

Roosevelt, however, pronounced the cause as “dirty treachery on the part of the Spaniards”. American newspapers also blamed the Spanish. The heightened atmosphere hastened the outbreak of the Spanish-American War in April that year. This conflict saw the United States expand its territory in the former colonies of the Spanish empire, from Cuba to the Philippines.

2. The failed Franklin expedition

The vanishing of Sir John Franklin’s final Arctic expedition has inspired over 170 years of searching. Last seen off the coast of Greenland in 1845 by whalers, the expedition’s ships HMS Erebus and HMS Terror were outfitted with iron plates and steam engines to withstand the extreme conditions. Their crews sought to discover the Northwest Passage, a route through which trade could take place along the northern coast of North America.

It was 14 years until the first traces of Franklin, his ships and crew of 128 were recovered. The physical evidence and Inuit testimony collected by Dr John Rae and Sir Francis Leopold McClintock pointed to complete disaster, despite the expedition having been ably provisioned.

Forensic research in the 1980s succeeded in identifying the frozen bodies of crew members on Beechey Island, and the importance of Inuit oral testimony was reasserted in the 1990s. The greatest discoveries took place in 2014 and 2017, however, when the Erebus and Terror themselves were located in the Arctic.

The work to reconstruct the movements of Franklin’s men and ships is ongoing and the cause for the expedition’s calamitous end still compellingly uncertain.

3. The disappearance of the Sarah Joe

Among the innumerable tales of vessels lost at sea is the case of the Sarah Joe, a five-metre-long motorboat equipped on Sunday morning, 11 February 1979, with supplies for a fishing excursion. It was the property of Robert Malaiakini, who named it after his parents. While Robert stayed onshore on Maui, the second-largest of the Hawaiian Islands, his twin brother Ralph and four of his friends sailed south into calm, lake-like waters.

That afternoon, a chaotic squall descended on the sea around Maui. Other sailors reported their vessels standing on their sterns in towering waves. After the Sarah Joe was reported missing at 5 o’clock, the coastguard was notified. But having searched for days alongside the local community, they found no trace of the boat.

Malaiakini and his friends never returned from where they set off in Hawaii. But nine years later and 3,750 miles to the west, a Hawaii-registered boat was discovered in the Marshall Islands. While conducting marine research on Taongi Atoll, one of the initial searchers John Naughton identified the fibreglass hull as the Sarah Joe.

Nearby, the remains of Malaiakini’s friend, Scott Moorman, were found buried in a grave with a cross made from driftwood. Short of delivering closure to the families of the missing, the discovery raised new questions, not least who buried Moorman and what happened to the other men.

Artists impression of Waratah at sea.

Image Credit: State Library of New South Wales, Public Domain

4. The vanishing of the SS Waratah

In July 1909, the 142-metre-long British passenger ship Waratah was en route between the South African cities of Durban and Cape Town when it vanished with its 211 passengers and crew.

Waratah was built one year earlier in Glasgow in order to operate between Europe and Australia, via the Colony of Natal in South Africa. Its disappearance and presumed sinking took place on its second voyage.

To date, no trace of the ship has been found, though theories advanced to explain its disappearance include a giant wave, a cargo shift inside the Waratah’s hold and an exceptionally large whirlpool.

Read more about maritime history, Ernest Shackleton and the Age of Exploration. Follow the search for Shackleton’s lost ship at Endurance22.

A remorseless and occasionally brutal criminal, Turpin was subsequently romanticised through literature and film into a dashing, heroic Robin Hood type.

He terrorised the public in life and captivated them after death. Here are 10 facts to demystify Dick Turpin, one of Britain’s most infamous criminals.

1. The man and the myth are entirely different

False perceptions about Dick Turpin can be traced to William Harrison Ainsworth’s 1834 novel Rockwood. Ainsworth casts Turpin as a dashing highwayman gallantly outwitting corrupt authorities, performing robberies in a gentlemanly, almost honourable fashion. None of this was true.

Turpin was a selfish, violent career criminal who preyed on innocent people and struck fear into entire communities. One of Harrison’s most repeated claims, that Turpin once rode 150 miles from London to York in one night on his trusted horse Black Bess, was also a fabrication but the myth endured.

2. Turpin began his career as a butcher

Turpin was born in Hempstead, Essex, in 1705. His father’s job as a butcher offered him early direction in his career but also a route into crime. In the early 1730s, Turpin began purchasing venison poached from Epping Forest by criminals known as the Essex Gang.

He then began poaching himself alongside them. Soon the police offered a reward of £50 (equivalent to about £11,500 in 2021) for information leading to their arrest. However, this merely pushed the group towards more violent crimes such as robberies, assaults and murder.

The Bluebell Inn in Hempstead, Essex: the birthplace of Dick Turpin on 21 September 1705.

Image Credit: Barry Marsh, 2015

3. He did not discriminate between rich and poor

Turpin is often depicted as a Robin Hood figure stealing from the wealthy, a hero to the downtrodden. This was simply not the case. Turpin and his gangs raided rich and poor alike as the shocking Earlsbury Farm robbery of 4 February 1735 makes clear.

Elderly Joseph Lawrence was bound, dragged, pistol-whipped, beaten and forced to sit on a lit fire. Lawrence’s servant Dorothy was also raped by one of Turpin’s associates.

4. Turpin committed a series of robberies in 1735

Turpin’s career as a highwayman began with a series of robberies between Epping Forest and Mile End starting on 10 April 1735. Further robberies at Barnes Common, Putney, Kingston Hill, Hounslow and Wandsworth followed in quick succession.

Following the robberies, Turpin and former Essex Gang member Thomas Rowden were reportedly spotted between 9-11 October 1735. A new £100 reward (comparable to roughly £23,000 in 2021) was offered for their capture and when it failed, residents raised their own reward. This also failed but the increased notoriety likely contributed to Turpin going into hiding.

5. Turpin may have hidden in the Netherlands

Between the October 1735 sightings and February 1737, nothing is known of Turpin’s movements and activities. Several contemporary press reports suggested he’d been spotted in the Netherlands but this may have been a consequence of his considerable fame.

Turpin was known to have a hideout in a cave in Epping Forest but gamekeepers in the area were aware of this. Nevertheless, in February 1737, he was back robbing people at gunpoint, first in Hertfordshire then Leicestershire and London with new accomplices Matthew King and Stephen Potter.

6. Turpin murdered a gamekeeper’s servant and changed his identity

An altercation at Leytonstone’s Green Man pub led to the fatal shooting of Turpin’s abettor Matthew King, possibly inadvertently by Turpin himself. The aftermath of the shooting changed the course of Turpin’s life irrevocably.

Having escaped to his Epping Forest hideout, Turpin was spotted by Thomas Morris, a gamekeeper’s servant. Morris confronted him alone and was duly shot and killed. Though Turpin continued with a spate of robberies, he soon went into hiding again, emerging not as Dick Turpin but with the false identity of John Palmer. A new £200 reward (roughly worth £46,000 in 2021) was offered for his capture.

7. Turpin’s downfall began with the murder of a chicken

Having adopted the identity of John Palmer and posing as a horse trader in Yorkshire, Turpin instigated his own demise by murdering hunting associate John Robinson’s game-cock on 2 October 1738. When Robinson angrily responded, Turpin threatened to also kill him which brought the incident to the attention of 3 local justices.

Turpin refused to pay the surety demanded and so was committed to the House of Correction at Beverley, a state of imprisonment from which he was never freed.

8. Turpin was caught out by his handwriting

Awaiting trial in York, Turpin wrote to brother-in-law, Pompr Rivernall, in Hampstead. The letter revealed Turpin’s true identity and pled for false character references for John Palmer. Either reluctant to pay the charge for York postage or to associate himself with Turpin, Rivernall refused the letter which was then moved to the Saffron Walden post office.

There, James Smith, a former teacher who incredibly had taught Turpin to write at school, recognised the handwriting immediately. After alerting the authorities and travelling to York Castle to identify Turpin, Smith collected a £200 reward offered by the Duke of Newcastle.

The site of Dick Turpin’s grave at St George’s Church in Fishergate, York.

Image Credit: Old Man Leica, 2006

9. The charges against Turpin were technically invalid

Turpin was charged with stealing 3 horses from Thomas Creasy. While there is no doubt Turpin deserved retribution for his extensive crimes, the actual charges brought against him at his trial were invalid.

The charge sheet stated Turpin stole 3 horses in Welton on 1 March 1739. By all accounts, he did commit this crime, but it actually occurred in Heckington in August 1738, rendering the charges invalid.

10. Turpin’s body was stolen after he was hanged

Having been sentenced to death for stealing horses, Turpin was hanged at Knavesmire racetrack. Yet more ironically, Turpin’s hangman, Thomas Hadfield, was a former highwayman. On 7 April 1739, aged 33, Turpin’s life of crime came to an end.

After he was hanged, his body was interred at St George’s Church in York where it was quickly stolen by body-snatchers. This was not uncommon at the time and was occasionally permitted for medical research however it was unpopular with the public. The body-snatchers were soon apprehended and Turpin’s body reburied at St Georges with quicklime.

These so-called ‘ghost ships’, or vessels discovered without a living soul on board, have featured in sailor’s tales and folklore for centuries. But that’s not to say stories of these unmanned ships are all fictional – far from it. 

The infamous Mary Celeste, for example, was found sailing across the Atlantic in the late 19th century without a crew member in sight. The fate of its passengers has never been confirmed.  

More recently, in 2006, a vessel labelled Jian Seng was discovered by Australian officials, yet it had no crew on board and no evidence of its existence could be found the world over.  

Here are 6 terrifying tales of ghost ships from throughout history.  

1. Flying Dutchman

The story of the Flying Dutchman is one that has been embellished and exaggerated for centuries. Probably closer to folklore than reality, it’s nonetheless a fascinating and much-famed ghost ship tale.  

One of the most popular versions of the Flying Dutchman tale relays that in the 17th century, the vessel’s captain, Hendrick Vanderdecken, sailed the ship into a deadly storm off the Cape of Good Hope, vowing to defy God’s wrath and continue on his voyage.  

The Flying Dutchman then suffered a collision and sank, the story goes, with the ship and its crew forced to sail the region’s waters for eternity as punishment.  

The myth of the cursed ghost ship became popular again in the 19th century, when a number of vessels recorded supposed sightings of the ship and its crew off the Cape of Good Hope. 

2. Mary Celeste 

On 25 November 1872, the British ship Dei Gratia spotted a vessel adrift in the Atlantic, near the Strait of Gibraltar. It was an abandoned ghost ship, the now infamous SV Mary Celeste.  

The Mary Celeste was in relatively good condition, still under sail, and plenty of food and water were found on board. And yet none of the ship’s crew could be found. The vessel’s lifeboat was gone, but after a thorough investigation, there seemed no apparent explanation for why the crew had abandoned their ship other than a minor amount of flooding in the hull.  

A pirate attack didn’t explain the ship’s missing crew, because its cargo of alcohol was still on board. Perhaps, then, some have speculated, a mutiny took place. Or maybe, and most probably, the captain overestimated the extent of the flooding and ordered the ship to be abandoned.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle immortalised the tale of the Mary Celeste in his short story J. Habakuk Jephson’s Statement, and it has puzzled readers and sleuths ever since.  

3. HMS Eurydice 

Disaster struck the Royal Navy in 1878, when an unexpected blizzard hit southern England out of the blue, sinking the HMS Eurydice and killing more than 350 of its crew members.  

The vessel was eventually refloated from the seabed, but it was so severely damaged that it couldn’t be restored.  

The sad tragedy of the HMS Eurydice later morphed into a curious local legend. Decades after the sinking of the Eurydice in 1878, sailors and visitors reported sightings of the ship’s ghost sailing around the waters off the Isle of Wight, where the ship and its crew perished. 

The wreck of Eurydice by Henry Robins, 1878.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

4. SS Ourang Medan

“All officers including captain are dead, lying in chartroom and bridge. Possibly whole crew dead.” This was the mysterious message picked up by British vessel the Silver Star in June 1947. The distress signal continued, “I die,” before cutting out. 

Upon investigating, the SS Ourang Medan was discovered adrift in the Strait of Malacca, in Southeast Asia. As the SOS message had warned, all of the ship’s crew were dead, apparently with expressions of horror etched across their faces. But there seemed no evidence of injury or reason for their deaths.  

It’s since been theorised that the crew of the Ourang Medan were killed by the vessel’s cargo of sulphuric acid. Other rumours involve a secret shipment of Japanese biological weapons accidentally killing the crew.  

The reality will likely never be revealed because the crew of the Silver Star evacuated the Ourang Medan swiftly after finding it: they had smelled smoke, and shortly after an explosion sank the vessel.

5. MV Joyita 

A month after the merchant vessel Joyita set off on what should have been a short 2-day voyage, it was found partially submerged in the South Pacific. Its 25 crew members were nowhere to be seen.  

When discovered on 10 November 1955, the Joyita was in a bad way. Its pipes were corroded, its electronics were poorly wired and it was listing heavily to one side. But it was still afloat, and in fact many said Joyita’s hull design made her practically unsinkable, raising the question of why the ship’s crew had deserted. 

MV Joyita after being found deserted and damaged in 1955.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

Various explanations for the crew’s fate have been put forward. One remarkable theory suggests that Japanese soldiers, still active 10 years after World War Two ended, attacked the vessel from a secret island base.  

Another explanation posits that Joyita’s captain may have been injured or killed. Without his knowledge of the boat’s ability to stay afloat, minor flooding may have led inexperienced crew members to panic and abandon the vessel. 

6. Jian Seng 

In 2006, Australian officials discovered a mysterious vessel adrift in the ocean. It had the name Jian Seng emblazoned on its hull, but no one on board.  

Investigators found a broken rope attached to the ship, possibly having snapped while towing the vessel. That would explain it being empty and adrift.  

But there was no evidence of SOS messages broadcast in the area, nor could officials find any record of a ship named Jian Seng in existence. Was it an illegal fishing vessel? Or perhaps something more sinister? The ship’s purpose remained elusive, and the fate of its crew is still a mystery to this day. 

Some theories point to the colony being captured and killed by local Native Americans, while others point to them assimilating and never being heard of again.

As one of America’s oldest and most notorious unsolved mysteries, the puzzle of the lost Roanoke colony has dumbfounded sleuths for centuries.

This was the second attempt at settling at Roanoke Island

Baptism of Virginia Dare by William A. Crafts, 1876.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

In 1583, the English claimed St. John’s, Newfoundland, as the first English territory in North America. Sir Walter Raleigh then spearheaded an attempt at establishing a permanent colony on Roanoke Island. Owing to a lack of supplies and poor relations with the local Native Americans, the attempt failed and the colony’s settlers left. A small detachment of people was stationed there a few weeks later in order to protect England’s claim to the land.

In 1587 came the second attempt at establishing a colony at Roanoke. Around 115 men, women and children, led by Raleigh’s friend John White, were sent to the island to once again re-establish an English presence there.

White, the governor of Roanoke, quickly recognised that the colony was struggling and left for England to request resources and manpower. He left behind his wife, daughter, infant granddaughter Virginia Dare (who was the first English child to be born in the Americas) and the other settlers.

However, upon arriving in England, a naval war broke out between England and Spain as part of the Anglo-Spanish Wars, and Elizabeth I called upon every available ship to confront the mighty Spanish Armada, which impeded White’s return to the colony.

Three years later, John White returned to find the whole settlement empty, its inhabitants having vanished.

Mysterious tree carvings provided the only clue

White and his crew were dumbfounded. Upon initial examination, they discovered the word ‘CROATOAN’ and the letters ‘CRO’ carved into trees within the colony’s borders, which provided the only clue as to what might have happened to the colony. However, a storm approached which impeded a further search and forced the crew to return to England.

At the time the colony was founded, the Hatteras Indians occupied the island. On the basis of the tree carvings, it is thought that the colonists moved to the nearby Croatoan Island, now called Hatteras Island, perhaps to join the Native Americans as a way of overcoming their lack of resources and knowledge of the land.

Other theories suggest that the colony could have been abducted or killed by Native Americans, killed by Spaniards who had marched up from Florida or lost at sea after attempting to sail back to England.

Later speculation varied wildly

A supposed piece of evidence that points to the claim that the colony joined the Hatteras Indians is the existence of stone carvings discovered in 1937-41. They were said to have been made by Eleanor Dare, mayor John White’s daughter.

Known as the Dare Stones, they contain written stories that tell the fates of the colonists as well as personal anecdotes from Eleanor to her father. Though these are largely believed to be a hoax and forgery, there is some evidence that one of the stones might be authentic.

There was also speculation that the colony had assimilated with nearby Native American communities in writings as early as 1605. Conversely, investigations by the later Jamestown colonists reported that the settlers had been massacred, yet also reported stories of people with European features in Native American villages.

John White finding the ruins of the Roanoke colony in 1590, engraving by John Parker Davis, 1893.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Sir Walter Raleigh was severely criticised, most notably by Francis Bacon, for his apparent indifference towards the lost colony. However, it may have worked in Raleigh’s interest to not draw attention to the colony; if the settlers could not be proven dead, he could legally maintain his claim on Virginia.

Indeed, though the fate of the Roanoke colonists remains a mystery, there is evidence that the lessons learned may have helped the next group of English settlers, who founded a colony 17 years later, a little north of the site at Roanoke.

Investigations are still ongoing

Interest in the matter fell into decline until 1834, when historian and statesman George Bancroft published his account of the events in A History of the United States. His descriptions of the colonists, especially White’s infant granddaughter Virginia Dare, cast them as foundational figures in American culture and subsequently captured the public’s imagination.

Investigations into the disappearance of the colony are still ongoing. Since 1998, the Croatoan Project has researched and provided archaeological evidence to back up the theory that the colony moved to be with, or at least came into contact with, the Hatteras tribe.

The discovery of artefacts within Croatoan villages that only English settlers had owned or made has strengthened this theory.

Virginia Dare Monument at the Fort Raleigh National Historic Site on Roanoke Island, North Carolina.

Image Credit: Shutterstock

In 2007, a project began which collects and analyses DNA from local families to determine whether they’re related to the Roanoke settlers, local Native American tribes, or both. Strikingly, the present-day Roanoke-Hatteras tribe in the area identifies as descendants of both the Croatan and the lost colonists by way of the Hatteras, who are descended from the 18th-century Croatan tribe.

Despite eccentric theories, potentially forged evidence and new scientific investigations, only time will tell if the mystery of the lost Roanoke colony will ever be truly solved.

The crew spotted a ship in the distance, seemingly in distress. It was the Mary Celeste, a merchant brigantine that had set sail from New York on 7 November bound for Genoa, loaded with industrial alcohol. She carried 8 crew members as well as her captain Benjamin S. Briggs, his wife Sarah and their 2-year-old daughter Sophia.

But when Captain David Morehouse of the Dei Gratia sent a boarding party to investigate, they found the ship empty. The Mary Celeste was partly under sail without a single crew member on board.

One of her pumps had been dismantled, her lifeboat was missing and the 6-month supply of food and water was untouched. The Mary Celeste appeared undamaged but for 3.5 feet of water in the ship’s hull – not enough to sink the vessel or hinder her voyage.

So, why would the crew abandon a seemingly healthy ship? It’s a question that has plagued investigators and amateur sleuths for more than a century.

The enquiry

After the ghost ship was recovered, an enquiry into the fate of the Mary Celeste and her crew was held in Gibraltar. Inspections of the ship found cuts on the bow but no decisive evidence that it had been involved in a collision or damaged by bad weather.

Suspicions that stains discovered on a rail and on the captain’s sword might be blood were proved false.

Some members of the enquiry investigated the crew of the Dei Gratia, believing they could have murdered the crew of the Mary Celeste in order to claim their salvage reward for the empty ship. Ultimately, no evidence suggesting foul play of this kind could be found. The crew of the Dei Gratia eventually received a portion of their salvage payout.

The inquiry into the Mary Celeste offered little explanation for the fate of her crew.

Gaining attention

In 1884 Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, at the time a ship’s surgeon, published a short story entitled J. Habakuk Jephson’s Statement. In the tale, he made a wide variety of alterations to the Mary Celeste story. His story described a vengeful slave laying waste to the crew and sailing to Africa.

Though Doyle had intended the story to be taken as a fictional account, he nevertheless received enquiries as to whether it was true.

Published 2 years after the discovery of the Mary Celeste, Doyle’s story revived interest in the mystery. Speculation has swirled around the fate of the vessel’s lost crew ever since.

An engraving of the Mary Celeste, c. 1870-1890.

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

Theories emerge

Countless theories for the fate of the Mary Celeste have emerged over the years, ranging from the unlikely to the preposterous.

A few theories can be easily discredited. The suggestion that pirates may have played a hand in the disappearance of the ship’s crew lacks solid evidence: just 9 of the ship’s 1,700 barrels of industrial alcohol were empty upon discovery, more likely from leaking than siphoning or theft. The crew’s personal belongings and valuables were still on board.

Another theory posited that some of the ship’s alcohol could had swelled in the heat and exploded, blasting open the ship’s hatch and scaring the crew into evacuating. But the hatch was still secured when the Mary Celeste was found adrift.

A more plausible theory suggests that the minor flooding in the ship’s hull was overestimated by the ship’s captain. Fearing the vessel would soon sink, the story goes, he evacuated.

Ultimately, the fate of the Mary Celeste and her crew is unlikely to ever get a neat answer. The story of the Mary Celeste, one of history’s greatest nautical mysteries, is likely to endure for centuries more.