The Haunted Pirate's House
The Pirate's House in Savannah, Georgia is over 250 years old. It's said to be one of the oldest and most haunted structures in the state.
The tavern was only a city block from the Savannah River. It sat in the shadow of Fort Wayne. Prior to either building it was the site of a colonial garden.
Herbs like thyme, marjoram and lavender scented the air, and both peach trees and cotton were also cultivated and thrived; both of these became staples for farmers in the state. The first small building provided housing for gardener; who would sleep upstairs in the loft. It was known as the Herb House.
The ten-acre botanical gardens fell into disuse, and being a port city, soon a tavern and inn were erected there to accommodate men arriving in ships from around the world. They gathered there to trade stories, drink rum and much skulduggery was planned within its walls. Sea captains would pay to have drunken sailors kidnapped and brought to their ships that many times would be sailing to foreign lands. Secret tunnels would run from the Rum Cellar to another tunnel on River Street. Fights, some ending in murder occurred many times inside the building.
The tavern was made famous in the book Treasure Island written by Robert Louis Stevenson, it was one of two real places used by the author. The character Captain Flint would die upstairs in a room being done in for his love of rum. He murdered his crew to keep secret the place where he buried his treasure. This was after many years of sailing the high seas on his ship the Walrus and accumulating a vast amount of booty.
Eventually the area became rundown, and abandoned and Mary Hillyer renovated it in 1945 in a seven year project. It reopened in 1953 as a tea house. Eventually it became a restaurant and jazz club.
Shadow people are seen here, many think they are the wraiths of old sailors who spent their best or perhaps their worse moments in the old tavern.
Staff working alone report the feeling of being watched. When they turn around they see a sailor dressed in a style of long ago looking at them. He slowly vanishes. The clomping of footsteps is heard throughout the structure, especially when it is closed and patrons are not about. Items fly of of shelves for no reason. Tourists have taken pictures from the outside and captured faces peering out from one of the windows.
Down in the basement, moans are hears, perhaps coming from those who were shanghaied to serve on ships. Then sometimes laughter is heard in the main part of the building.
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Stranger Than Fiction Stories by M.P. Pellicer