Ever since the introduction of the Hays Code in 1927, films in the horror genre have fought to remain true to the voice of the genre. The consistency in which film creators have chipped away at those codes since their inception has brought us to where we are today; while movies like Hellraiser (1987) have still had to deal with censorship before they premiered, what is deemed excessive or exploitative is brought to new heights with each film that dares to push the limits.
Fully banned in Kansas…
When Frankenstein (1931) was first released, the local Kansas board banned it for the entire state; thousands of unhappy moviegoers wanted access, so eventually, the board relented. The Kansas board bastardized the movie with so many cuts that it, “would have stripped it of all its horrific elements,” which brought the intervention of the MPDDA and fewer cuts (Petley 132). The film standards that were enforced in the 1930s didn’t take into account the production of the horror genre; after wondering where the line would be drawn for a genre that consistently dug further into the dark, it was decided that:
As long as monsters refrained from illicit sexual activity, respected the clergy, and maintained silence on controversial political matters, they might walk with impunity where bad girls, gangsters, and radicals feared to tread.
(Cited in Petley 131)
Those standards wouldn’t last for long. The lines within horror are blurred, humans can be the monsters who don’t refrain from illicit sexual activity, demonic representations within films regularly disrespect the clergy, and have had a tendency to be outspoken on controversial political matters [see Night of the Living Dead (1968)]. Censorship for violent or graphic content was incredibly strict from the inception of the Hays Code until the 1960s when the standards for censorship were relaxed (Petley 130).
With the growing popularity of television sets in the home came tight restrictions for television programs. Televisions made entertainment easily accessible to people in the comfort of their own homes—this created stiff competition for filmmakers. While television standards were stricter, it allowed film production codes to be lowered in order to lure viewers back to the theater with the prospect of seeing something more forbidden. When Hellraiser was first released in 1987, audiences may have been a little shocked at the overt sexualization of pain and violence.
The graphic nature of the gruesome torture scenes cut in between scenes of sexual conquest and that starts within the first fifteen minutes. The mise-en-scène we are given with Julia’s flashback to her affair with her soon-to-be husband’s brother Frank sets the tone for the rest of the movie. Frank appears at the door, confident if not rude and slightly mysterious, drenched from the downpour of rain. He imposes himself upon Julia and we see her in her most innocent and unassuming form—cut to her walking into the third floor attic, a dusty, dingy, room in ill repair, to be alone with her thoughts.
Every inclusion of prop, from the knife that he cuts her nightgown strap with, to the wedding dress he lays her down upon to begin their torrid love affair, is essential to the story. Frank will take what he wants from Julia; having never been with a man who so confidently takes what he desires, Julia falls lustfully into their fervent and passionate, if not taboo, lovemaking. Engaging with Frank atop her pure white gown, sullying her presumable innocent reputation, is at the core of what Hellraiser translates to. Pleasure that feels sinful, Pain that feels pleasurable—two things that, with the Lament Configuration, blend together seamlessly.
The scene continues, cutting from the flashback of the affair to present-day Julia in longing remembrance, and then to her husband as he struggles to move a bed into their home. Frank and Julia climax in the flashback, Julia begins to cry, and Larry cuts himself deeply on a nail protruding from a wall. In these five minutes, we have excess in the taboo sexual act of cheating, the emotional show of Julia’s aching desire for Frank, and the adverse reaction Larry has to his own hand gushing blood. The movie continues on in this manner, unapologetic and all the more entertaining for it—we spend the next few minutes watching the floorboard soak up Larry’s blood and subsequently reconstitute most of Frank’s body.
Torture Porn and Erotica?
Some people might have found those two scenes to be subversive or even repulsive—some, according to movie critics at the time, found it comical. As if the excess pushed it from a horrifying experience, to a campy overdone joke. I think, when appreciated for the time it was created and given a little benefit of the doubt, it sows the seeds of a completely gratifying horror experience. Any attempt to relate to Julia, one might actually feel sorry for her—she feels as if she’s fallen in love with Frank and that he loves her back. The truth that she doesn’t really take into consideration is that desire and love don’t always coexist; Frank doesn’t actually care about Julia past using her for his own personal gain. We find out later, Frank’s coercive nature leads her to bring back men for him to feed off of and escape hell. Her own selfish desires lead her to assume that once he’s back in his skin (quite literally), they’ll rekindle their love-affair.
Violence and sex have had a tendency to be viewed differently in different countries. Where America has historically fallen back on christian outrage when it comes to depictions of sex (especially premarital sex) on the big screen, violence has been considered more acceptable. Alternatively, as Dumas has noted, countries like Sweden have had the opposite policy (29). People experience an incredible amount of shame and anxiety surrounding their own sexual desires that may or may not be considered taboo within an otherwise moral society—this of course causes an internal conflict for the audience (Dumas 29). What’s more is when Hellraiser’s Pinhead suggests that, “pleasure and pain (are) indistinguishable,” within his realm, it cements the concept of sexualizing brutality.
A certain morbid curiosity has escalated the gory nature of horror films with the release of each new feature. Post 9/11 audiences seemed to be even more desensitized than before—torture porn like Saw (2004) and Hostel (2005) hit the theaters—horror fans flocked to experience the repulsion and anxiety that comes with watching the suffering of others (Pinedo 345). A world where fear and uncertainty were becoming more commonplace, there became a vaccuum for horror. These gratuitous, taboo, excessive movies gave viewers a space in which we were free to be afraid.
Excess turns exploitative when the horror no longer fits around an underlying story, but instead, a story is made to fit around underlying ideas of violence and repulsion. Like pornography that attempts to have a plot—just look at any motion-picture porn parody—exploitative horror like The Human Centipede (2009), I Spit on Your Grave (2010), A Serbian Film (2010), and Tusk (2014) is simply an excuse to showcase gratuitous violence. These films are still liable to be heavily cut (Petley 146-147) and for good reason.
What is interesting is that such exploitative films are defended regularly, but are they films that need to be defended? A Serbian Film’s subject matter is indefensible, yet there are people who try to reason away the infant rape scene by bringing up that it wasn’t a real infant. Regardless of whether it’s a real infant or not, it’s meant to convey the scene in the most realistic way possible so as to instigate a severe repulsion response. It’s even suggested that “the masochistic and sadistic aspects of the film-viewing experience [implies] that viewers get some form of sexual gratification from these images,” (Pinedo 347) which in the case of A Serbian Film is beyond horrifying.
Horror and sex have a long, intertwined history, the eroticization of depictions of violence is nothing new. However, a horror film’s ability to stimulate viewers sexually, “not only draws their attention, but also primes them to react more strongly to other feelings, such as suspense and fear,” (Pinedo 347). In the end, what is considered exploitative or excessive is dependent upon the audience—there will always be those who object, just like there will always be those who call for more violence, gore, repulsion, and explicit sexual content.
Strong reactions and emotions have historically created experiences fewer people can forget. As an example, who can forget the release of Hostel in 2005, where viewers were not only fleeing the theater, they were reportedly throwing up in their seats. If the saying, “there’s no such thing as bad press,” is true—which it certainly seems to be within the horror genre—then these outrageous claims of such violent repulsion created a more morbidly curious audience.
Works Cited
Dumas, Chris. “Horror and Psychoanalysis: An Introductory Primer.” A Companion to the Horror Film, edited by Harry Benshoff, Wiley-Blackwell, 2017, pp. 21–37.
Petley, Julian. “Horror and the Censors.” A Companion to the Horror Film, edited by Harry Benshoff, Wiley-Blackwell, 2017, pp. 130–147.
Pinedo, Isabel C. “Torture Porn: 21st Century Horror.” A Companion to the Horror Film, edited by Harry Benshoff, Wiley-Blackwell, 2017, pp. 345–61.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
Many of Richard Matheson’s works went from page to screen pretty successfully–perhaps that’s part of the reason why so many people are familiar with work that he originally penned, but are unaware of the source of the story. After such a long career, one might hope that people would come to recognize your name, but it didn’t seem to bother Matheson, who seemed to only write for the love of writing.
The Films Based on Matheson’s Novels
I Am Legend (1954) is Richard Matheson’s most talked-about novel–it was such a success and inspiration to creatives everywhere that it was even adapted to film three separate times. The Last Man On Earth (1964), The Omega Man (1971), and I Am Legend (2007) all wonderful movies in their own right, just never seemed to capture the concept behind the original novel.
The Last Man On Earth (1964)
The dark tale of The Last Man On Earth takes place in a post-epidemic nightmare world, where a scientist by the name of Robert Morgan–played by Vincent Price–is the only man immune to a vampire plague which has transformed the entire population on Earth. This vampire society comes to fear Morgan, as he turns into a monster slayer. As a scientist, he studies the plague and ends up being able to cure one of them, by transfusing his blood into her. This upsets the vampire race and they end up killing him for what he has done to Ruth.
Considered the second adaptation of I Am Legend to film, Charlton Heston plays Robert Neville, a man who is the only recipient of a serum that made him immune to the germ warfare between Russia and China. This caused him to be the only known normal human left alive and he lives in a gaudy, antique-decorated penthouse in Los Angeles where he roams the vacant city by day and fends off bloodthirsty (read: vampire) mutant scavengers. Eventually, Neville comes across a young group of healthy non-vampires, which destroys the idea of him being the last remaining normal human being.
The third adaptation of Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend, this attempt at the film follows Robert Neville–played by Will Smith–as the last man on Earth struggling to survive and fend off the infected victims of the vampiric plague. He’s a brilliant scientist who is meant to find the cure to a highly contagious superbug–something he is inexplicably immune to, as we find out later in the film. By day, Neville searches high and low for supplies, sends out desperate radio messages with the hope to find other survivors, and by night he hunkers down in his fortress of a home while attempting to find the cure to the virus by using his own blood in experiments on vampires he has captured. The horde of vampires is more intelligent than Neville realizes, however, and they take vengeance upon him after he captures a vampire woman who the alpha vampire is bonded to.
Adapted from Hell House by Matheson, into a screenplay by Matheson himself, four people with supposed extrasensory powers are hired to spend the weekend in a haunted house in order to gather evidence of the haunting.
Tom Witzky lives a fairly normal life, he works in Chicago and lives with his wife and son, not believing in anything out of the ordinary. One night, while at a party, Tom and his sister-in-law, Lisa, get into a verbal debate about psychic communication and the power of hypnosis–he challenges Lisa to hypnotize him, so she does. She plants a post-hypnotic suggestion for Tom to be more open-minded and things begin to happen.
Matheson wrote several screenplays, including sixteen episodes of The Twilight Zone, where he could simply pitch an idea and spur an entire episode.
Nightmare at 20,000 Feet (2002)
A salesman is traveling via plane after a recent nervous breakdown–after being told that he’s recovered from his issues–while flying, he begins to believe he’s seeing a monster climbing on the wing of the plane and damaging the engine. The only problem is, is that he’s the only one who sees it.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
As a professional writer for fifty years, not only was Dennis Etchison successful with his short stories, novels, and editorial work, he also had a prolific career with film, screen and radio work. This of course simply works as an overview of what he was most known for in these fields—in respect to him as our honored Dead Author Dedication of the month of May, we felt it was fair to mention how he contributed to the field of film, screen, and radio.
Screenplays
In his time writing screenplays, Etchison wrote a fair few that he could be proud of, although his own humility would not allow it later in life. Whether it be a screenplay based on the works of others, or his own—sadly his screenplays were not as widely received as his short stories and novels. In 1998, Etchison’s story, The Late Shift was adapted to film by Patrick Aumont and Damian Harris into the film Killing Time.
Ray Bradbury
One author that Etchison greatly respected was Ray Bradbury and he displayed this in many ways during his career, by paying homage to the classic American author. One screenplay that he was said to have created, but has thus far not been produced, was The Fox and the Forest.
Teaming Up With the Greats
John Carpenter
1986 brought in the opportunity for Etchison to team up with director John Carpenter to write the script for Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers; unfortunately, when Etchison finalized the script, producer Moustapha Akkad rejected it, saying that it was “too cerebral,” and that it would not have been right for the direction of the franchise.
Halloween was banned in Haddonfield and I think that the basic idea was that if you tried to suppress something, it would only rear its head more strongly. By the very [attempt] of trying to erase the memory of Michael Myers, [the teenagers] were going to ironically bring him back into existence.
Dennis Etchison on his idea for Halloween 4
He was informed via telephone with an explanation that his script would not become part of the deal during the sale of the pitch for Halloween 4; that is not to say that the fourth installment of the Halloween franchise was unsuccessful, but once Akkad had gained ownership of the franchise, he returned it to a more original idea that brought the fan-base back.
Stephen King
In 1983, Etchison first worked with King to be the film consultant and historian for King’s Danse Macabre. His work with Stephen King, perhaps is the most impressive, having teamed up with the prolific writer to create the screenplay for The Mist which was adapted in 1984 fir a ZBS Media production as a 90-minute radio rendition.
Television
Etchison was a staff writer during the year of 1985, when he contributed to the television series The Hitchhiker.
The Ogre originally written by Colin Wilson, was rewritten by Etchison—he also co-wrote one of the stories for the television series Logan’s Run, entitled “The Thunder Gods,” which was later printed.
Radio Work
As an author who could seamlessly cross platforms, Etchison adapted almost one hundred episodes of the original The Twilight Zone television series for a CBS radio series which was hosted by Stacy Keach in 2002. Later on this radio series was released commercially on audio CDs. This was definitely not the only time that Etchison did writing for radio work, as he also worked as one of the writers on the audio series for Fangoria’s Deadtime Stories which was hosted by Malcom McDowell—also something that was later released on CDs and digital downloads.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
Robert Albert Bloch was born in Chicago, Illinois on April 5 in 1917, to two German Jews, Raphael Bloch and Stella Loeb who, despite their Jewish heritage, had the family attend a Methodist Church. When Bloch was only eight years of age, he attended a screening of Lon Chaney Sr.’s The Phantom of the Opera (1925) on his own, where he was traumatized by his first horror scene—where Chaney removes his mask to reveal the Phantom’s horrific face. According to Bloch, “it scared the hell out of [him] and [he] ran all the way home to enjoy the first of about two years of recurrent nightmares.” Like many fans of horror who see their first horror flick too young, this trauma and subsequent nighttime hauntings sparked his interest in horror. He became an avid reader at eight, reading books well above his own level of schooling, as well as experimenting with pencil sketches and watercolor art. While he very much had a love for artwork, but he was diagnosed with myopia in his youth and it deterred him from pursuing it professionally.
At the age of twelve, Robert’s father lost his job at the bank and the family moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where he grew up throughout the Great Depression. During his youth, he delighted in the Golden Age of horror films that played in the picture houses, and the magazine Weird Tales, which he scrimped and saved for each month from his allowance so as to purchase a copy of this pulp magazine. Bloch’s favorite childhood short story was one of Lovecraft’s first-person narratives about an artist whose disturbing creations lead to his disappearance, entitled “Pickman’s Model,” and he would also end up doing flattering imitations of his mentor’s style later on. When Bloch was just seventeen years old he wrote to his highly regarded idol, H.P. Lovecraft, to proclaim his admiration for the writer’s short stories. It is said that he greatly preferred Lovecraft’s particular flavor of genre—cosmic or as it’s often regarded, Lovecraftian horror—over what he was being taught in his own high school English classes.
To the unending joy of Bloch, Lovecraft wrote him back and sent him copies of earlier stories he had written and asked Robert if he himself had written any weird fiction. This is when he would be admitted into The Lovecraft Circle as well as when he began writing some of his first (of many) short stories that would be published in Weird Tales. He would be the youngest member of The Lovecraft Circle, which were a group of writers who followed H.P. Lovecraft and published their short fiction in Weird Tales—a pulp horror magazine that circulated during the Great Depression.
Career
With the early influence of Lovecraft and his cosmic horror, Bloch’s earliest short stories took place in Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos fictional universe. Not too long later, Bloch would begin to associate with the Milwaukee Fictioneers, a group of writer’s dedicated to pulp fiction where he began to deviate and develop his own style, instead of relying upon the Lovecraft influence. When Lovecraft died in 1937, Robert was deeply affected by the loss of his mentor, but used it as a reason to keep writing.
Despite my ghoulish reputation, I really have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk.”
Robert Bloch
Novels
Bloch’s first novel to be published was The Scarf (1947) and was very reminiscent of the style he had developed when he was involved with the Lovecraft circle, but also marked the beginning the development of a style he would explore later that would be considered pulp fiction. Like most other horror writers, Bloch had a certain kind of story that inspired him—for some writers it’s urban legends, supernatural monsters, or wicked folklore; but Robert’s inspiration didn’t come from folklore so much as it did true-crime serial killers from all throughout history. Jack the Ripper, Marquis de Sade, and Lizzie Borden were amongst those whom Robert created stories based on their legacies, which included short stories such as “A Toy for Juliette” and “Lizzie Borden Took an Ax….”
When Ed Gein was arrested in his home in Plainsfield, Wisconsin for the murders of two women in 1957, authorities discovered that Gein had been stealing corpses from fresh graves of local women and then using their flesh to create furniture, silverware, and clothing. Bloch only lived about thirty-five miles away from where Gein had lived, so after the discovery of this serial so close to home, he became obsessed. The idea of his next door neighbor being a monster, but going undetected even in such a small town is what he considered his largest inspiration for Norman Bates, the anti-hero of Psycho (1959). The story of Ed Gein was sensational at the time, but what really translated Bloch’s Psycho into an instant classic both in text and Alfred Hitchcock’s adaptation for the big screen, was due to the psychological not-so-undertones of the story.
While Bloch had enjoyed some critical and commercial success before he produced Psycho, it wasn’t until the novel was published that his life changed forever. With Psycho and its instant success, he was approached by a Hollywood production company with an offer to purchase the rights to the film. He made a whopping $9,500 which through inflation would equate to $84,472 and some change.
The world of horror would be forever changed by Norman Bates, the sensitive mama’s boy, whose domineering mother corrupted him—which brought an interesting air to the 1960s as the field of psychoanalysis and the research of the Oedipus Complex which coincided with a crisis in contemporary American masculinity which followed the women’s movement of liberation. When Norman psychologically becomes his mother at the end of the novel it was representative of Freudian horror in the utmost of extreme cases. Psycho wasn’t Bloch’s only success and he continued on with his creative writing, winning awards and accolades for his talent.
Death
Bloch was seventy-seven when he passed away on September 23, 1994—he had long battled with cancer and it finally took him at his home in Los Angeles. Before he passed, however, he wrote what was considered an unauthorized autobiography, which was titled Once Around the Bloch (1993) and while he didn’t speak of his illness, it was clear that it was written with the realization that he was not long for this world.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
Born of the eerie and enigmatic nature of the sea, ghost ships have been objects of fascination for centuries. Many of the stories behind phantom vessels have historical evidence, explanations—or at least theories—of how they came to be abandoned and what happened to their crew. The legend of the ghost ship Jenny and how it came to be the Ship of Icy remains shrouded in mystery centuries after it was discovered.
“May 4, 1823. No food for 71 days. I am the only one left alive.” – Was the captain’s last entry in the ghost ship Jenny’s log book. Jenny was an 1800’s English schooner that became frozen in ice crossing the Drake Passage in 1823.
Ghost Ships: A Common Thread
Image courtesy of Wikipedia
One of the earliest substantiated claims of a phantom vessel is one that ran aground on Easton’s Beach in Rhode Island, between 1750 and 1760. The SV Sea Bird is well-known through a fictional account, but historical records also exist.
Another well-researched and factually interesting instance was the disappearance of Sir John Franklin—a British Royal Navy Officer and Arctic explorer who, after serving the crown in wars against Napoleonic France and the United States led an ill-fated expedition in search of the Northwest Passage in 1845 (Ray 2023). Countless stories are associated with Franklin’s vanished expedition. Two centuries later his disappearance is just as fascinating and inexplicable now as it was at the time (Schuster 2)
Karl T. Andree a German geographer and publicist, is well-known for linking the story of Franklin and the ghost ship Jenny. As the editor of the Globus, he purportedly brought the two stories together first. In his excitement of the first edition of his geographical journal, he wanted to create interest. His enthusiasm stirred from introducing the general public to the exciting side of geography (Schuster 2).
Watch the Ghost Ship Jenny on Puzzle Box Horror’s YouTube channel
Jenny of the Isle of Wight
Ghost ships are clearly not an impossible concept. The events that surround the ghost ship, Jenny, however, are most unusual and highly unsettling. Bohemia, boasts a narrative that is simultaneously more believable and different than popularly cited sources. Regardless of these differences, the story remains an eerie example of the destructive capacity of Mother Nature.
The ghost ship Jenny was, allegedly, an English schooner that hailed from the Isle of Wight. She would come to be the subject of a legend that remains unproven to this day. The Jenny left its home port on the Isle of Wight, and made a successful journey all the way to the port of Callao, Peru—the main port just outside of Lima. With one-half of their journey completed, the crew of the Jenny would have to sail their vessel through the treacherous waters of the Drake Passage once again. The Jenny’s return trip would end in the Drake Passage—but what caused the ship’s voyage to end so abruptly?
The Drake Passage: The Roughest Seas in the World
The Drake Passage has the roughest seas known in the world. This is largely due to the fact that the Pacific, Atlantic, and Southern Oceans all converge into this one passage. With no landmasses to create resistance, the winds can reach incredible speeds. All of this adds up to rocky waters that only the most robust of vessels can withstand. Throughout maritime history, the Drake Passage has claimed more than 800 ships and with them, the lives of approximately 20,000 sailors. (Andrews, 2015)
The Story of the Ghost Ship Jenny
Little to nothing is known about what Jenny and her crew endured during their travels. Countless versions of their story have been published and since speculated upon. It is believed that Jenny began her journey in England. She left her home port on the Isle of Wight approximately a year before the last entry in her logbook. The intended voyage and where Jenny ended up is vaguely mentioned. However, it is known through each rendition of her story that she navigated the Drake Passage. Her last port of call was Callao, Peru—the de facto port of the city of Lima.
From Peru, Jenny traveled back through the Drake Passage but this is where her journey, as we know it, ended abruptly. It would be quite some time before the fate of Jenny and her crew would be discovered and no evidence of her expedition has been uncovered outside of the stories of her rediscovery. Regardless, any theories surrounding her disappearance would be pure speculation.
Did the Ghost Ship Jenny really exist?
Upon further research, neither the ghost ship Jenny, the whaling vessel Hope nor Captain Brighton could be found among any official documentation of Andree’s sources for the 1862 edition of Globus (Schuster 2). The story that appeared in Globus in 1862 was, however, traced back to the original publication which had been anonymously printed in Bohemia on February 14, 1841. In fact, the story had not only been printed in Bohemia but at least nine other magazines and newspapers within the same year. The only significant difference that could be cited was the year Brighton was said to have found the ghost ship Jenny, but whether it was 1839 or 1840 really made no difference to the readers.
It is assumed that since none of the publications cite a source for their information, the initial journalist likely believed the information was authentic and happened upon it from an oral source since no documentation of an English source has ever been discovered (Schuster 3).
There are theories that suggest that the ghost ship Jenny story is actually an Antarctic retelling of the Octavius which had not only happened on the opposite side of the globe, but almost an entire century prior (Schuster 3). It’s curious, but true that many renditions of the legend include details identical to those of the Octavius. The cargo ship turned ghost ship allegedly vanished off the coast of Greenland in 1761. The story tells us of its miraculous discovery fifteen years later. The crew froze in their agonizing final moments. The Captain, pen still in hand, froze at his desk.
The Ship in the Ice
In an effort to consolidate the details into one manageable story, we have taken the multitude of sources we found and created our own version of the story, just as the storytellers of our past might have done.
That was the story. Question the manner of telling
But be sure at least of ice and pain and silence.
Of Time? Well, there one can never be certain —
For you a thing to be measured, perhaps — for me, a searching,
And for seven alone on a frozen ship? I wonder.
However it was, is beyond our chance of knowing.
— from The Ship of Ice by Rosemary Dobson.
September 22, 1839
Captain Brighton of the whaling ship the Hope, entered into his logbook the sighting of a whale. When their chase drew them close to the ice barrier, they lost sight of the whale. In an effort to find the safety of calm seas, Brighton and his crew found themselves in the middle of a chain of icebergs. Around nine in the evening, a storm was upon them, despite the situation Brighton was more annoyed than afraid since they had chanced into a basin of calm waters. He alerted his crew to remain awake so that they might catch a favorable midnight breeze and navigate out of the basin. If they didn’t turn back, then they risked becoming stuck in the ice for the entire winter.
As the midnight winds hit…
They brought with them a flurry of snow and thunderous cracks that left the crew filled with dread. Brighton knew this sound was an indication that the icebergs surrounding them were breaking apart and his fears were confirmed when tremendous shock waves rocked the Hope from all sides. Escaping the basin proved to be impossible, as did finding a safe place to pass the rest of the night. Anxiety persisted amongst the crew, but they managed to stay afloat through the night. Morning light brought a calm over the crew when they saw their ship had taken no significant damage. An astonished crew noted that the mountainous bergs that had closed them in the day before now lay shattered around them. The icy waters that surrounded them bore a resemblance to a desert archipelago.
Around midday…
The sailor at the watch in the masthead cried out that he had spotted a ship at sea. Persistent icebergs blocked Brighton’s line of sight for a time, but when the hull came into view he stood aghast. The sails faced in strange directions and the ship’s rigging was wholly miserable. They watched as the vessel sailed feebly under the persuasion of the wind before it finally came to rest upon an iceberg. Captain Brighton, along with a few of his men boarded their ship’s jolly boat and quickly rowed over to the derelict vessel which had so piqued their curiosity. A more intimate view of the ship revealed a slew of impacts against the ice that the hull had withstood.
From their vantage point in the jolly boat, they could see no one on the deck. A blanket of snow that reached an incredible height covered the ship’s deck. Still, Brighton called out to the ship several times and received no answer. Just as they were about to make their way up to the deck, an open gate caught Brighton’s attention. Twilight permitted him to see the silhouette of a man sitting in a chair at a desk. He could just make out writing instruments and an open book in front of him. Brighton and his men hesitated no longer. Once on deck, they shoveled away the high blanket of snow that covered the trapdoor to the cabin.
Consumed with anxiety…
The men descended into the depths of the ship. Together they headed to where Captain Brighton had seen the man sitting. They trembled in anticipation as they came face to face with the stranger, who sat unresponsive in front of them. Brighton took a few steps closer to him and observed that the man was dead. Upon closer inspection, he noted something disturbing. A thin greenish mold covered the man’s forehead and cheeks. What was worse, was that it clouded the man’s eyes as well. The ship’s logbook lay open in front of him. It was open to the last entry and a quill lay aside the dead man’s hand. The man had succumbed to the elements shortly after penning the final log.
“January 17, 1823. Today it is seventy-one days that our ship has been trapped in the ice. All our efforts were in vain — last night the fire was extinguished, and all our captain’s efforts to light it again failed — this morning his wife died of hunger and cold, as did five of the sailors from the crew. No more hope!”
Next, the men…
Ventured into the Captain’s quarters, wherein they found the corpse of a woman on the bed. Her features remarkably preserved by the cold, she still held the appearance of life. However, her torment-twisted limbs told the story of the pain and suffering she had endured in her last hours. They next searched the crew’s quarters at the front of the ship. There they found several sailors lying dead in their hammocks. Even the dog lay frozen to death under the stairs in the corner. Out of all the things the men found in their search, food, and fuel were not among them.
Little by little Brighton’s men lost their mettle. Their fears and superstitions prevented Brighton from investigating the ship as thoroughly as he would have liked. Saddened by what they had discovered, Brighton took the ship’s logbook. Noted in the logbook was the ship’s last port of call—Callao, Peru. On the cover of the logbook, Brighton saw the name Jenny of the Isle of Wight. Brighton resolved to return the logbook to the ship’s owner. When he returned to his ship, he did so with renewed conviction. Any ship which ventured too far into these inhospitable waters faced incalculable dangers.
Fact or Fiction: The Jenny’s Mystery Persists
Outside of the legend, there are very few references of the Jenny in fictional works. Both of the works we found through our research were published within the last century. Rosemary Dobson wrote the poem “The Ship of Ice” in 1948. Her poem won her the Sydney Morning Herald award for poetry that same year. In her poem, she mentions that the discovery of the ghost ship Jenny happened in 1860. She cited the information she pulled from the anonymous report The Drift of Jenny, 1823-1840. She cited an English translation of the story from the Globus in 1862.
In 2018, Michael Wilkinson published a short story, entitled “The Drift of the Jenny”. It was a dramatic rendition of the story from the article found in the Globus in 1862. He included elaborate details and perspectives that otherwise would have been unknown. The retelling of this story by new authors truly inspires creative minds to keep old legends alive.
The truth behind the ghost ship Jenny continues to elude us, but our sources remain. The legends as they appeared in both Bohemia and Globus have been included below in their English translations. We hope that you, the reader, will conduct your own investigation. Ascertain the details for yourself and draw your own conclusions. This centuries-old mystery may simply be the evolution of a sailor’s yarn into an urban legend or, this seemingly tall tale may have been birthed from true events. New and substantial developments are unlikely to be found. That doesn’t mean that a dilapidated ghost ship Jenny and her crew aren’t still sailing the haunted inhospitable Antarctic waters.
The Original Tales, Translated
The following article appeared in Bohemia, ein unterhaltungsblatt on February 14, 1841. It is the earliest printed source of the legend for the ghost ship Jenny.
What follows is a direct translation of the story as it was printed in the Bohemia magazine in 1841:
The Ship in the Ice.
A true story.
The ship the Hope, Captain Brighton, equipped for whale fishing beyond Cape Horn in the calm sea, found itself in the middle of a chain of icebergs on September 22nd, 1839, at 9 o’clock in the evening, just as stormy tides were setting in, which formed a wide bay, so to speak. Not half an hour from his ship the captain noticed another long line of ice cliffs of wonderful height and completely covered with snow. All space through which the eye could pass was filled with enormous masses of ice, which showed that the ocean was closed in this direction.
Captain Brighton, however, found his situation more difficult than dangerous, for there was complete calm in the large basin. He was not afraid of being thrown against one of those ice rocks that lay motionless. He therefore limited himself to the exact vigilance that his position required of him; the whole crew remained awake on deck to catch the breeze which usually rises after midnight; in this case, he wanted to turn the ship around immediately because if he had ventured any further he would have to fear being surrounded by ice for the entire winter.
At midnight…
A strong wind arose and brought a flurry of snow. A thunder-like crack, a terrible roar, filled the crew with terror. It was a sign that the ice was moving. The Hope received tremendous shocks from the floating ice masses; it was impossible to find a safe place. The night passed with anxiety difficult to describe. In the morning the storm calmed down and the crew was pleased to see that the ship had not suffered any significant damage. The sailors were astonished to see that the icy mountains that had been so tightly closed yesterday had been shattered, and the entire sea had taken on the appearance of a desert archipelago.
Towards midday, the watch in the masthead shouted: “A ship at sea! At first, some icebergs floating between this ship and the Hope prevented the captain from seeing more than the mastheads, but soon the hull came into view, and Brighton was amazed by the strange direction of the sails and the miserable appearance of the ship the rigging was astonishing. The vessel sailed fleetingly before the wind for a distance of a few cable lengths and finally hit an iceberg.
Soon the crew…
Of the Hope noticed that the strange ship was abandoned. But Captain Brighton let out a boat. He boarded it with a few sailors and quickly rowed over to the ship whose appearance had so excited his curiosity. As he got closer, he saw the ship’s hull, as it were, gnawed by time or by countless impacts against the ice. No one was on the deck, which was covered in snow to an incredible height.
Brighton called the strange ship several times, but there was no answer. He was just about to climb up when an open gate caught his attention. Through the window panes, he saw a man sitting on a chair in front of a table on which there was a kind of register, writing utensils, and pens. The twilight in this room prevented the captain from seeing more.
Brighton and the sailors…
With him did not hesitate to climb the deck. Here they first had to shovel away the high blanket of snow that covered the trapdoor of the cabin. Here they descended with a mixed feeling of anticipation and secret horror. First, they went to the room where the captain had seen the man sitting. When they entered they couldn’t help but tremble. The unknown sat there, didn’t move, and didn’t return the greeting of his guests. The man took a few steps closer to him and saw that he was without life. A thin, greenish mold covered his forehead and cheeks and clouded his eyes. He was a man about thirty years old. A feather lay next to his hand on the table, and the ship’s book was open in front of him.
The last passage in this journal read as follows:
“17. January 1839. Today it is seventy-one days that our ship has been trapped between the ice. All our efforts were in vain — last night the fire was extinguished, and all our captain’s efforts to light it again failed — this morning his wife died of hunger and cold, as did five of the sailors from the crew. No more hope!”
Captain Brighton and his sailors were forced to leave the horrible place after such a sight. When they entered the main façade, the first thing they noticed was the body of a woman on a bed. Her features had retained all the freshness of life, only her limbs, through their twisting, indicated the terrible torments under which the poor thing had died. At her side was sitting on the floorboards a lifeless young man, holding a steel in his right hand and a flint in his left, next to him was a can of tinder.
From here…
The captain went to the front of the ship to the crew’s quarters; several sailors lay dead in their hammocks. A dog was found frozen to death under the stairs in a corner. There was no food or fuel anywhere.
Captain Brighton was prevented by the superstitious fear of his sailors, from searching the extinct ship with as much detail as he would have liked. Meanwhile, he took with him the ship’s book, in which was recorded the entire route the ship had taken since it had sailed from Lima. In front of the diary was the name of the ship, Jenny of the Isle of Wight. At last Captain Brighton returned to his board, deeply saddened by the sad spectacle he had just seen, and by his examination convinced anew of the incalculable dangers to which all ships are exposed if they venture too far into the inhospitable Arctic Ocean.
The following article appeared in Globus, Illustrated Magazine for Countries and Ethnography. It was also a self-proclaimed Chronicle of Travel and Geographical Newspaper. This version of the story wasn’t printed until sometime in 1862. This article remains the most cited source of this legend.
What follows is a direct translation of the story as it was printed in the Globus in 1862:
A Ship in the Ice of the Southern Polar Sea.
Mac Clintock’s report on the trip to find Sir John Franklin is read with keen evaluation and not without emotion. At Victoria Point, on the northwest coast of King Williams Island, where Bad Bay lies, the first written record of the missing sailors was recovered; It was dated May 28, 1847, and at that time everything was fine. But there was a postscript in the margins, according to which the ships Erebus and Terror were abandoned on April 22, 1848, having been encased in ice since September 12, 1846. Franklin had already died on June 11, 1847, and the total death toll already amounted to 9 officers and 15 men from the remaining crew. On April 26th the survivors wanted to escape to Bad’s Fish River.
On May 30, 1859, Mac Clintock found a large boat on the west coast of King Williams Island, not far from Cape Crozier (latitude 69° 8′ north, longitude 100° 8′ west), at a point where the coast bends to the east his companion Hobson had been examined a few days earlier. It was 28 feet long, flat-built, and carefully prepared for travel on the large fishing stream, and consisted of a very strong sleigh. In this boat lay two human skeletons; One had been chased home by wolves, and the other was still covered in clothes and belts. Beside these unfortunates were five rifles, and on the side were two double-barreled shotguns, each of which had a barrel loaded.
Next to various…
Autochthon* books was a copy of the eulogist from Wakefield. Mac Clintock also found an astonishing array of clothing, nails, files, all sorts of implements, some tea, forty cans of chocolate, some tobacco and firebolt. The Eskimos had already told us that many white men had fallen on the way to the great Fish River; A skeleton partially covered in snow had been found at Cape Herschel. An old Eskimo woman hunted: “They fell down and died while they were running.”
Mac Clintock’s report reminded us of a funny one we once read about a dead ship in the southern Arctic Ocean.
It must be a terrible fate to be surrounded by icebergs in the gray polar cold, to be pinned down and to be wiped out by cold, hunger, terror, and doubt, and to say to yourself that you have disappeared without a trace.
In September 1840, the whaler Hope, Captain Brighton, cruised beyond Cape Horn in the southern Arctic Ocean. One September evening the wind drove him to ice fields and mountains, which formed a wide road. About half a nautical mile away, an indistinguishable chain of high, snow-covered Spitsbergen** was visible; Everything was covered in ice and in that direction, the ocean was visibly closed. In the wide basin, however, the sea was rough and the Hope was in no danger of strolling towards the ice coast; Nor were there any icebergs floating around, as they all formed one continuous body of water. However, the captain was always vigilant and the crew was ready to take advantage of the first favorable wind, which usually blows around midnight in September.
If you explore…
This ice base for a long time, a terrible event could occur that the icebergs become mobile, fold together, and wedge the whaler until mild bitterness sets in or for eternity.
The wind really picked up at midnight and at the same time, there was a heavy snowstorm. Soon afterwards a thunder-like sound rang out and the terrible crash of the icebergs filled the crew with fear and horror. The previously rigid masses of ice began to move. The floes also began to drift rapidly and collide against the ship, and Brighton barely had any hope of finding a way out of the billowing ice labyrinth.
The terrible night passed away amidst people who didn’t give in to gossip. The storm subsided as day appeared and was considerably busy. The ice masses, which in the evening had formed an impassable, mountainous mainland, now dissolved into countless floating islands and formed, as it were, a mobile archipelago.
A ship in sight! About midday the sailor on duty called Go from the masthead. The captain, who was on deck, could only see the tops of the masts because of the icebergs between the Hope and the indicated ship, but he soon noticed the strange condition of the rigging. The ship drifted downwind against an iceberg and then came to a standstill.
There was now…
There was now no longer any doubt that the team had deserted. The captain put a boat out to sea and went to the wreck. It soon became apparent how much it had suffered. There was heavy snow on the deck and not a living creature was to be found; There was no answer to repeated calls. Brighton docked and boarded with three sailors. Not a soul moved. When he entered the cabin, what did he see? A man sat on a chair in front of a table on which a logbook lay. Everyone’s hair stood on end because the man remained motionless and the greeting that was called out to him remained unanswered. The man was a dead corpse; He still had a pen in his hand and the last word in the logbook read:
“January 17, 1823. Today is our seventy-first day since we were surrounded by the ice. Despite all our efforts, the fire went out yesterday. His wife is sick today died of hunger and cold; no more hope!”
That’s how it was in the helmsman’s cabin. In the captain’s room, the corpse of a woman lay on the bed; Her face still bore almost all the expressions of life, and only the cramped appearance pulled together limbs suggested the battle she had fought with death. A man sat next to her; On the ground next to him lay firesteel, stone, and a lighter filled with burned canvas. Several sailors were found frozen to death in the hammocks, a dead dog lay in front of the stairs and there was no trace of food anywhere.
The Fear and…
Superstition of the sailors did not allow further investigation, but Captain Brighton took the logbook with him to give to the shipowners. The ship was the Jenny and was based on the Isle of Wight; It had last been in the port of Callao near Lima and had lain in the Antarctic ice for a full seventeen years. Captain Brighton returned happily to Europe with the Hope.
*/ôˈtäkTH(ə)n, ôˈtäkˌTHän/ noun. an original or indigenous inhabitant of a place.
Jeans, Peter D. “The Schooner Jenny.” Seafaring Lore & Legend: A Miscellany of Maritime Myth, Superstition, Fable, and Fact, International Marine, Camden, ME, 2004, pp. 272–273.
Schuster, Frank M. “In search of the origin of an Antarctic ghost ship: The legend of the Jenny re-evaluated.” Polar Record, 58(e13), 2022, pp. 1-9.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
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