Digging Up the Past on Deal Island

Chris Webster, a retired naval officer in his late fifties, fell into a deep depression when he lost his wife to cancer two years ago, yet with the help of his son and daughter he found a new purpose when they encouraged him to take up genealogy. A history buff at heart, Chris did find solitude looking over old family photos and documents he inherited after his parents passed. When his kids set him up on a a genealogy website and gave him a DNA kit for his birthday, Chris didn’t hesitate to send in his saliva sample the next day. A few weeks later he found the results to be quite surprising. It showed he had connections to a little sleepy island town of Deal, MD and his seventh great grandfather, William Webster was one of the first to settle on Deal back in 1632.  

This info helped Chris find a new lease on life as well as a desire to learn more about his family. Days later his kids complimented him on getting a new crew cut, like when he was back in the navy, and joked about how nice he looked clean shaven.  Even his once dull blue eyes became bright and sparkly like the sea. Chris connected with a few blood relatives including a distant cousin now living on Deal who encouraged him to come and visit. Armed with his camera, a map of Sommerset County, laptop with his genealogy records and notes, a packed overnight bag, his fishing rod, and his trusty metal detector - just in case there’s something worth digging up, Chris Webster hit the road one breezy, partly cloudy summer day.  Deal or bust. 

The drive took him around Baltimore, over the Bay Bridge where he then stopped for lunch at a local cafe on Route 50. Making good time, he continued onto Route 13 then followed Route 363, Deal Island Road, to the quiet little six mile waterman town. He thought about visiting some of the churches that day to see some family plots and then meet up with “cousin Stephanie”, who Chris had emailed and talked to on the phone several times. The picturesque drive took Chris through tidal marshes with tall grasses swaying in the breeze and thin stretch of beaches dotted with sea-glass, all the while taking in the eerie ghost town like feel. Abandoned, boarded up, and collapsed buildings due to age, neglect, and harsh coastal storms lined the main road through town which gave the place a stuck-in-time appearance.  

While it seems the town has been forgotten by time, there were signs of life as he drove past a remodeled Rock Creek United Methodist Church and cemetery that took up several acres, a maritime museum, marinas, and a local restaurant, The Dockside Grill, located at the end of the island. Chris was stiff from the long drive and decided to park at a nearby marina to get out and walk a bit. He was quickly struck by how quiet it was - no city noises, just the lapping of water against the shore and docks at the marina. Even the squawking of seagulls overhead had a lullaby-like calming effect that took him back to his navy days. The smell of the salty air was pleasant, not quite the pungent odor of walking into a fish market, but a bit briny with a hint of diesel. After Chris worked out some of his stiffness, he called his kids to let them know he made it okay then got back into his car to drive to a Methodist Church he passed on the way to the marina.  

Chris pulled up to a boarded-up church located at the intersection of Deal Road and Ballard Road. A rough sign read John Wesley Church. The church had boarded-up windows and dilapidated exterior, not at all inviting yet it didn’t deter Chris from grabbing his camera. He snapped a few photos of the exterior of the church and the landscape of the graveyard. The cemetery was in sad shape too, as tall grass grew up and down rows of weathered tombstones and stone vaults were cracked showing a glimpse of a black abyss.  Suddenly this cellphone rang just as he snapped one last photo of a grave with the word Webster on it. Without looking at the number he answered with a “hello”.

“Hello? Cousin Chris?” asked a woman on the phone. He recognized the voice as Cousin Stephanie.

“Stephanie? How are you?”

“Good! Did you make it here to Deal yet? In the last email you sent, you said you were heading here today, right?”

“Yes, I got here a little while ago. I wanted to drive around the town and check out a few graves. I am at the Wesley Methodist Church taking photos now.”

“Oh. Such a sad church, but there’s plans to get it restored. Listen, when you are done stop by the Skipjack Heritage Museum. I am volunteering today and will get off at 4:00. I will show you around the museum.  Across the street is the Rock Creek Methodist Church where a lot of the Webster family is buried.”

“I remember passing the museum when I came into town. Yeah, I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done here.”

Chris ended the call then walked back to his car to transfer the photos from his camera to his laptop. While downloading photos and clearing the memory of his camera, one photo stuck out as odd.  It was taken from behind the church looking out onto the intersection. He captured a silhouette a person standing right at the intersection looking at the camera. It was odd because he knew he was alone the whole time, especially when he took the photo. He assumed it was probably a trick like a lens flare. Wanting to make sure it was nothing, he figured he would go over and look around.

Putting his laptop and camera away, Chris walked around to the truck and took out his metal detector. First going around the perimeter of the church a few hits yielded some old nails and a mercury dime. He then walked across the street to explore the area where he saw the unidentifiable person. On the ground, Chris saw a white stone marker about a foot tall with an emblem of circles intertwined. It looked Celtic in nature. Moving on, Chris used small sweeping motions with the metal detector and immediately got a hit. He bent down to find a dull penny in the grass and then another and then another. Using a nearby stick, he dug a little further and counted about twenty-five pennies in all were partially buried. One coin that really made him smile had the date one and a seven, but the other two numbers were worn and unrecognizable. He put the others back but tucked the the oldest into his jeans pocket, thinking the museum would be interested in.  

Chris decided to wrap it up and put his metal detector back and drive over to the skipjack museum. It only took a few minutes pull up to the smokey gray exterior to the Skipjack Heritage Museum. Yellow day lilies and decorative grasses lined the front walkway of the building. Across the street was the newly updated Rock Creek Methodist Church, which gleamed bright white like a beacon from a lighthouse. 

The bright ding of a brass door bell announced Chris’s arrival through the red entrance door.  When the door closed behind him, it rang one more time. 

“Hello and welcome to The Skipjack Heritage Museum,” called out a warm feminine voice with an odd dialect that resembled a mumbled southern drawl. It was Stephanie’s voice. Sure enough, from around the corner a short round woman in her sixties entered the room wearing a white shirt and faded denim clamdiggers sporting silver curls in a short wispy hairstyle. With a big smile the woman continued, “Well you must be Chris, Chris Webster.”

  “I am. And you must be Stephanie, Stephanie White! It is good to finally meet you” replied Chris who bent down to give her a hug.

“Well, you look more handsome that I imagined. Well, welcome to Deal. I take it your drive was ok?”

“It was and I must say this is quite a town, peaceful and quiet and well, stuck in time. Say, this place is a nice museum. How about a tour!”

“I’d be glad to. You’re my first visitor today,” revealed Stephanie as she began to lead him around the 2,000 square foot space. She showed him exhibits and display cases with old photos of the way of life on Deal, nautical nicknacks, models of skipjacks, historical documents revealing info on who first settled Deal including the paper resembling a deed that showed the town was originally called Devil’s Island.

Once at a glass display case with some relics found on the island, it reminded Chris to show Stephanie the coin he found. Reaching into his pocket he took out the coin and held it out to his cousin, “Stephanie, I found something you all might want to have here at the museum.  It was over at the Wesley Church.”

Stephanie saw the coin and recognized it. Sturned white as a sheet and her warm demeanor turned stern, “You said you got this by the Wesley church? Where specifically did you find this?”

“By the road, right at the intersection actually. It was weird because when I took some photos and thought I saw a person standing right at the intersection. So, I went over to take a closer look and found this plus other pennies by a white marke”

Stephanie cut him off, grabbed his hand and lead him to a corner of the museum and said in a hushed voice, “Put it back! Put it back now.”

“I don’t understand. This is an amazing find and thought it would be a good addition to the museum. See? It has a date from the 1700’s. It’s probably worth something.”

“No, it’s… it’s… It just needs to be put back. It’s cursed.”

“That’s silly. Cursed? I don’t believe in curses. There’s no such thing as curses.”

“You should. Remember when I told you the island was originally called Devil’s Island? Legend has it the name was tied to the pirates that frequented the area of the Chesapeake.  The real truth is long before there was even a Wesley church, our ancestors, including the Websters, learned that specific location was spiritual, like a doorway to a place that was neither here nor there. As it was told to me, at midnight on the night of a New Moon, for that one minute, you could see both our world and the world of the dead at the same time in the moonlight.  If one did a specific ritual at that time - offer a copper coin, draw a set of intertwined circles and speak an incantation, he or she could summon the devil. Our sixth great-grandmother Flora was desperate enough to summon the devil at crossroads when a great storm threatened the island and everyone living here back then. Miraculously, the storm shifted north, sparing the island and the Websters and the other families too. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but Flora told her sister Anne, a White, on her death bed of the ritual that she did. Anne then shared the story of the ritual with one of her relatives, and so on and so on until it was passed on to me.”

“To you? So I am supposed to believe this coin, and I guess the other coins there too, was an offering to summon the devil?”

“Yes. You don’t have to believe it, but yes! Wait here I can show you proof…” Stephanie urged as she walked over to another display case, retrieved a book and then came back to where Chris stood. “Here, this is the family bible. I donated it to the museum. Look at the last page here… it’s the drawing of the circles and the incantation written down.”  

Chris gently touched the writing with his finger as if he could feel Flora’s fingers crossing space and time and through his as if her writing was a time machine.  He then looked up at Stephanie, not sure what to make of this story. Chris spoke up, “I saw this symbol at the crossroads on the white marker.”

“The family placed it there as a subtle way to give thanks for Flora’s sacrifice. However, removing a coin jeopardizes all those contracts. The devil will come to collect the souls of all who made an offering early as well as anyone who steals from him. Because you stole from the devil unless you return the coin by midnight, he will be after you and a few others tonight.”  

It was at this point Chris thought back to the photo of a figure at the crossroads. “Wait, let me show you something. Now it is my turn to be right back.” Chris ran to the car, grabbed the laptop and brought it in. He opened it to retrieve the unusual photo. Once he turned the laptop to Stephanie and asked, “What do you see here?”

“The crossroads and…. A figure? Is that a person?”

“I thought so, but when you mentioned the devil and the marker for Flora, do you think the figure is either of them?”

“I couldn’t say, but what I do understand is the devil appears differently to everyone. I get this all probably sounds like a bunch of nonsense, but please return the coin. You may not believe it, but I do and what couldn’t hurt returning it back to where you found it?”  

Chris placed the laptop on the counter to look at the coin again.  

Chris then heard a loud male voice in his ear say, “My coin, your life!” Chris stumbled backwards swatting at his ear. Up until this moment, Chris had never been scared a day in his life.

“Did you hear that,” cried Chris.

“Hear what? No. It’s just the two of us here,” Stephanie now looking at Chris puzzled.  

“I’m going to put the coin back now,” stuttered Chris as he put the coin back into his pocket, grabbed the laptop and ran out the door. He quickly got into the car, tossing his laptop onto the passenger seat and turned the ignition on. He looked up before turning around and saw Stephanie waving to stop him. He rolled down the window for Stephanie to say she would meet him there as it was just about 4:00 and she was going to close up early. He nodded and drove off.  

Chris sped down the road troubled by that mysterious voice in his ear. Real or not, he didn’t want any part of it. Once the church he pulled into the space he had before, got out and briskly walked to the crossroads and stopped at the exact spot he found the coin. Bending down on one knee he pushed the coin into the dirt beside the others then rubbed the dirt on his hands off on pants. Next, he walked back to his car as another car pulled up beside his. It was Stephanie.

From the rolled down car window his cousin asked, “Did you do it?”

“Yes, it’s back.” Chris sighed with relief and exhaustion.   

“Good. Listen, I’m sorry.  You must think of me as a crazy person and we were having a good time before all of this. Can I make it up to you and treat you to dinner? The only restaurant is The Grill, but the food is fresh and delicious.”

“I am a bit hungry. Yeah sure. I’ll meet you there.”

“Great! I was hoping we could talk more about the Websters. Don’t worry, no curse talk,” Stephanie winked and then pulled onto the road to the direction of the restaurant. Chris got into his car, looked at the crossroads one more time, and drove in the same direction as Stephanie towards the restaurant, happy to be done with curses, real or not.