Ghosts on the Coast of Maine Read Free Page A

most, the finest, the lowest-priced vessels of any shipyard on the coast.
    In 1873 Armstrong agreed. The two partners successfully complemented one another. What Keane lacked in business sense was demonstrated by Armstrong; when Gilbert had a question about what wood to use, Harry supplied the answer.
    Their common denominator was guts. A large part of their business was shipping paving blocks, a rather heavy cargo, literally the cornerstones of Fifth Avenue buildings, before concrete came along. Armstrong & Keane soon added lime to their list of shipped products, which was risky because of its propensity to catch fire when wet.
    Seven strong vessels were launched out of the Armstrong & Keane shipyard. All were lost at sea. Nature was the one factor that Gilbert and Harry had not been able to predict.
    Also difficult to foresee was the faster pace of the world and the invention of steamers, then railroads, and today’s trucks. The age of the great three-masted sailing vessels began to wane in 1874.
    In that year stood the unfinished frame of the eighth coaster at Armstrong & Keane. Construction had been halted by a workmen’s strike and consequent lawsuits. The shipyard was forced to pay salaries by the company-store method. This broke the company. Armstrong & Keane dissolved. Harry moved to Camden to work in another yard, and Gilbert concentrated on running his store.
    Financial blows seem to be part of the human condition, but Gilbert took this one personally. He felt that he had disappointed the town as well as his family. He didn’t feel too kindly toward Harry at first, because his partner had deserted him for greener pastures, but as time passed, he simply missed the deep friendship that had highlighted their working relationship.
    The world had taken Armstrong by surprise and given him a whirl. He never came out of it. Once a sturdy and upright gentleman, he lived out his last days a thin and worried man, burdened by guilt and loneliness.
    Over the years, all the buildings of the Tenants Harbor shipyard have been transformed. The big white shoreline building became an inn.
    The East Wind Inn houses a ghost who has been seen climbing the main staircase, wending his way to the window overlooking the sea. He stops to gaze out across the waters that once harbored the likes of his grand fleet of ships.
    He manifests himself in several ways. The owner of the inn, who lives in the basement apartment, awoke one night to the sound of footsteps and the swinging doors that squeak upon entrance to the dining room. When the proprietor went to investigate, the only thing he noticed was the doors still swinging.
    An older middle-aged woman who had been a friend of the owner’s for quite some time and a faithful guest, eagerly called him on the interhouse phone one evening. “Tim, you’d better come up and take a look at this.”
    He went up to the second floor to see what was the matter. There was glass all over the floor. “Jenny,” he said, “didn’t you remove the stick that was under the window when you tried to shut it?”
    â€œTim,” she replied, “I never touched the window.”
    Jenny then moved to another room. A couple of days later, Tim received another phone call. This time broken glass was scattered all over the room. It looked as though something had smashed through the window from the outside. This, of course, would have been impossible, because the storm window remained securely in place.
    The winter of 1987 a woman doctor and her husband were staying in one of the rooms on the third floor overlooking the ocean. She felt a sudden chill while in bed, so she decided to get up and get an extra blanket. She found that she couldn’t move. There was a pressure on her body that was holding her flat on the bed. The woman told the presence, “Please go, this is making me very uncomfortable. I can’t deal with this right now.”
    The pressure eased. In the