Stories of buried treasure and ghosts go hand in hand. In this tale we have a lust for treasure, murder, and a guard from beyond the grave, All on Folly Island in South Carolina. How far would you go to grab a share of the booty? Would you fight the ghost of a pirate?
During the Civil War the Union army landed on Folly Island off the coast of South Carolina. While preparing to attack the Confederate port of Charleston, men were sent around to gather up citizens to transport them off the island. A young officer named Yokum was assigned to help with the task. As he was going about his duty, his came across a run down shack housing and elderly black woman and a child.
When she was informed that she would be leaving, the woman protested, and began telling the young man stories of her life in the house. Yokum sat on the porch and politely listened to her stories, although he wasn’t really paying any attention. It was only when she mentioned that treasure was buried around did she truly grab Yokums attention.
She told Yokum that a group of pirates had come ashore and dug a hole between two big oaks and lowered six chests of gold, silver and jewels into it. Then, when the last chest was in place, the captain stabbed one of his crew in the back and threw his body in the hole. The gang then covered the hole and sailed away.
Yokum, trying to act casual, then asked the old woman if the treasure was still there. She said it was telling him “Who gonna go to that place? That pirate watches over the treasure even though he’s dead”. Yokum then helped the woman with the child onto the ship to take them off the island.
That night, Yokum and his friend by the name of Hatcher, crossed the sand dunes with shovels in their hands. Finding the trees the old woman had pointed to, they began to dig. It was then that they noticed the tops of the trees started swaying as if a powerful wind had suddenly come up. The more they dug, the higher the wind got until the blown sand felt like needles on their faces. Then, flashes of light began to appear. The more they dug, the more frequent the flashes of light in the night sky. Suddenly, a flash came that lasted for several seconds, making the night as bright as if it were noon. It was then that Yokum and Hatcher realized there was someone, or something, there with them. The outline of whatever it was was clear. It was a pirate. Leaving the gear behind, Yokum and Hatcher raced back over the dunes to the safety of the camp.
The two men swore to never tell of what had happened. A few years after the war, Hatcher was dead and Yokum had moved west. The story would’ve been lost forever, but fifty years later, Yokum recalled the story at a veterans reunion and a writer named Frances Moore printed the story.
As for the treasure, I guess some things are better off buried.
