The ghost of Greenman's Inn

My grandfather, Charles West, told me this story about the ghost of the Greenman's Inn.

He had met the boatman of the story at the Wiseman's Ferry Inn.

There the man, much the worse for drink, and eager to talk, told him of the horrors he had seen rising from the Hawkesbury River on misty mornings and evenings.

The Greenman Inn he spoke of was built by Samuel Taylor in 1841, the site on the Hawkesbury River opposite Spencer.

Mr Taylor hung the sign of a man painted green outside the inn, similar to a sign hung in Regents Park in London.

The inn became a rendezvous for free settlers, ticket-of-leave men, timber workers, ashbumers and fishermen.

It was a calling place for trading vessels sailing to the Hawkesbury River and Mangrove Creek.

These were the "roaring days" of this great river.

From the Greenman Inn wharf, timber and shingles were shipped, also grain, particularly maize.

Some of this maize was distilled for moonshine or "Hawkesbury juice" at secret bush distilleries.

One morning at the inn, the body of a woman employee was found.

She had been murdered, presumably by her lover.

Tragically, the woman's child was also found in a box in the creek shortly after.

A boatman (the man who spoke to my grandfather) was given a guinea to take the woman's' body to Wiseman's Ferry, then by horse carriage to Parramatta for burial.

The boatman's greed got the better of him, and so, as to have the whole guinea, and when out of sight of the inn, he slipped the woman's body into the river.

Since then, the boatman had seen the apparition of a woman at dusk and dawn on the river.

He said others had seen the apparition of a small boat with blood-red sails at sunset on the mouth of Marlowe's Creek.

The inn was haunted as well.

The blood-stained print of a woman's hand appeared on the walls and a strange green light hovered above the well.

Often the wraith-like form of a woman could be seen vanishing through a doorway or gliding along the creek.

My grandfather was stricken by the look of horror on the boatman's face as he sought comfort in rum.

He grabbed my grandfather's sleeve and he said he daren't go out in the boat at dawn or dusk as the woman would appear rising out of the river and beckon to him.

He would then feel an irresistible urge to throw himself into the river.

The man's look was so piteous that my grandfather wanted to run from the place.

Grandfather West bought the man another drink, patted him on the shoulder and left the inn, to face the fresh air outside and to return home seeking peace, harmony and comfort.

Keith Whitfield, Woy Woy