STEAMBOAT DISPATCH
The Coffin Beneath the Waves:
A Chateaugay Lake Steamboat Pirate Mystery.
THE SECRETS OF CAMP JACK
A Tale of Terror
Brazen Serpent Wendigo Whiskey
& the
Unknown
In the murky depths of Upper Chateaugay Lake lies a mystery so dark…
Even the bravest souls who gather by its shores under the light of the moon dare not speak its name!
A cement-filled coffin was found in the 1970s!
It had rested, maybe for decades, ominously, beneath the dark, still water, somewhere in front of the legendary Camp Jack!
This serves as the key to unlock a sordid history steeped in intrigue, treachery, and illicit dealings!
It beckons like a siren’s call, whispering tales of lost souls and desperate men!
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon. A pair of daring divers were drawn by the thrill of the unknown. They descended into the lake’s shadowy depths.
They had no idea their discovery would unearth a chilling conspiracy!
It dated back to the height of the Steamboat Pirate Syndicate!
At that time, unruly scalawags, scoundrels and rogues ruled the waters of the Chateaugee!
A Fateful Meeting
Our tale begins in the summer of 1914. The notorious Rafe “Lucky” McTavish roamed the lakeside with his right-hand man, Jack “Blackwater” Quinn, like phantoms of the night. These men belonged to the elite circle of the Chateaugay Lake Steamboat Pirates. They mingled with elite tourists seeking sport, pleasure, adventure, and escape from the drudgery of city life.
One fateful night, the pirates holed up at Cassius Bellows’ Deer Spring Lodge on the Upper Pond. They hosted a lavish soiree. They invited the affluent and the reckless alike. Among the attendees was Isaac “Dutch” Harker. He was a financier with a penchant for the extravagant. Harker also had a weakness for Brazen Serpent Wendigo Whiskey. Harker was eager to impress his companions, regaling them with tales of riches from far-off lands. But there was something sinister at play, for McTavish and Quinn had plans that went beyond mere entertainment.
As the night wore on, the revelry grew darker. Drinks flowed like water. Whispers of Brazen Serpent Wendigo Whiskey filled the air. Partygoers indulged in their vices and lost themselves in their highs. Evelyn Nesbit, a siren of the stage, was among them. Her husband, the renowned Jack Clifford, was also there. He was a favorite among locals. Jack was the good-natured entertainer. Though his name would become synonymous with scandal and excess, he always remained a loyal friend among the locals. Their presence at Camp Jack was notorious, for they too had succumbed to the allure of decadence!
That very night, the moonlight danced on the lake. A shot rang out, piercing the haze of laughter and music! Panic ensued, and in the chaos, Harker went missing. What followed became the stuff of nightmares. The authorities were summoned, but with powerful men involved, the investigation was thwarted at every turn. Harker had vanished, swallowed by the secrets that churned beneath the lake’s surface.
The Legend Grows
As Johqu Bogart recounted the tale around the fire some 50 years later, his ancient vocoder squawking with each eerie word, the legend of the cement coffin came full circle. “You can still hear the knockin’,” Johqu rasped, his voice distorted through his rigged-up ring modulator stomp box contraption. “On quiet nights, when the lake’s still. That’s Harker, still poundin’ on the lid, tryin’ to get out.”
The campers leaned closer to the flames, their faces bathed in a glow both warm and chilling. The lake stretched out before them, its dark surface hiding a century of secrets beneath its cold, placid waters.
And somewhere, not far from shore, the coffin still lay—its inhabitant forever bound by the weight of cement and the terrible truth of Chateaugay Lake.
The Coffin Emerges
Two divers ventured into the waters of Chateaugay one fateful evening. Their curiosity was piqued by Johqu’s eerie tales. Armed with nothing but their diving gear and a sense of adventure, they plunged into the dark abyss. The murkiness surrounded them like a shroud. As they neared the bottom, a dark shape emerged. It was a coffin, cement-encased and menacing.
As the divers surfaced, their hearts raced with both exhilaration and dread. What lay inside? A body? A treasure? Or something worse?
Back at Camp Jack, Johqu had gathered a group of campers. He spun his tales around the flickering firelight. He described how the coffin had become a symbol of the lake’s dark past. The old codger knew something the divers did not. He had been there when McTavish and Quinn still roamed the waters. The secrets he carried were heavy enough to sink a ship.
A Tale of Two Brothers and a Deadly Scheme
To understand the coffin’s origin, one must go back to the late 1870s, when the infamous Bellows brothers, Cassius and Alonzo, ran their hunting lodge for well-heeled sportsmen. These men came from New York and Boston, seeking adventure in the untamed Adirondacks. The brothers, descended from the original settler Jonathan Bellows, were a respectable front for the more illicit activities of the Steamboat Pirate Syndicate, a secret society that thrived on smuggling and clandestine operations.
The Syndicate, led by Lucky McTavish, had long used Chateaugay Lake as a hub for their shady dealings. They were known for their music, their wild “Pirate Hootenannies,” and for using the dense wilderness to cover their crimes. Guns, narcotics, counterfeit goods—it all flowed through their hands like water through the lake’s currents. The Bellows brothers knew how to cater to their elite clientele, but it was Cassius Bellows who became slowly entangled in one of the lake’s darkest secrets.
When Dutch Harker had come to the lake at the invitation of Lucky McTavish, Dutch was promised riches beyond his wildest dreams—a smuggling operation involving gold and precious gems. What Harker didn’t know was that McTavish had no intention of splitting the profits. Harker was a mark, nothing more.
That summer, after a night of heavy drinking and debauchery at the lodge, Harker disappeared. The official story was that he’d wandered off into the wilderness and gotten lost, a tragic accident for a city man unaccustomed to the woods. But the crows told a different tale.
Dutch Harker had been double-crossed!
Reckoning
Days turned into weeks, and the divers’ discovery sent shockwaves through the tight-knit community around the lake. Rumors of ghosts, séances, and vengeful Abenaki Wendigo spirits began to swirl. Soon, locals started to recount their own harrowing encounters with the supernatural. Was Harker’s spirit restless, or was it the ghosts of McTavish and his pirates, forever entwined in their greed?
A further seeming coincidence surfaced at that moment. A local historian had come across a hidden ledger belonging to Dr. Culhane. The ledger contained accounts of wealthy men who had disappeared around the time of Harker’s vanishing. Each entry detailed their vices, connections to the Steamboat Pirates, and chillingly, the fate that awaited those who crossed McTavish.
The divers pieced together the sordid history of the lake. They uncovered clues linking the coffin to a series of illicit deals. These deals included Brazen Serpent Wendigo Whiskey and smuggling. A network had thrived beneath the surface. Harker’s fate was entwined with that of many others. The same murky waters silenced them and now hold his remains.
Unveiling the Truth
The town was on edge. The divers decided to return to the site of the coffin. They were armed with flashlights and driven by a burning wish for answers. As they descended once more, the water grew colder, the weight of the past pressing down upon them. They pried the coffin open, hearts pounding in their chests.
Inside lay not a body. Instead, there was an assortment of treasures and documents. It was a veritable trove of evidence tying McTavish and the Steamboat Pirates to their nefarious deeds. But as they surfaced, gasping for air, they felt the unmistakable chill of something watching them from the depths.
The lake was alive with memories, its secrets spilling forth like water from a broken dam. And as Johqu had warned, those who disturbed its slumber would pay the price.
The Haunting
In the weeks that followed, strange occurrences plagued Camp Jack. Guests reported hearing muffled voices at night, the echoes of laughter and gunshots reverberating across the water. Some claimed to see a shadowy figure gliding through the mist, always watching, always waiting.
The divers, now local legends themselves, retreated from the lake, haunted by what they had uncovered. The once-thriving community around Chateaugay became a shell of its former self. The laughter was replaced by whispers of the dead. People spoke of the sins of the past.
The fog rolled in thick over Upper Chateaugay Lake. A single thought persisted—it would be forever. The coffin would hold the lake’s deepest secret. It served as a reminder of the darkness that once thrived beneath its tranquil surface. McTavish and his Steamboat Pirates left a legacy in the hearts of the brave. Those who listen to the whispers of the past remember them.
And so, dear readers, remember this tale next time you gaze into the depths of Chateaugay Lake. Beneath its calm facade lies the restless spirit of the Steamboat Pirates. They are waiting to tell their story.
Perhaps, they are waiting to claim another soul.
What mysteries of Chateaugay Lake haunt you?