1908 Christmas Greetings Card, showing Queen Street in Brisbane.
*Preface* A century ago, it was customary to run Christmas ghost stories in the newspapers throughout the British Empire, a yearly event in which Australia also indulged - this tradition was most likely fuelled by the famous author Charles Dickens, who published many works on ghosts centred around Christmas. The newspapers of early Brisbane were no different - each year, a collection of ghost stories, both fictional and real, would be published as a Christmas Supplement...and for this article, we'll tap into the Christmas edition published in The World's News (out of Sydney) on the 24th of December 1921. This particular story recollects a sojourn of a Doctor & his family in a terrifyingly haunted house in Brisbane - finally divulged in 1921, and sworn to be the solemn truth. So, without further ado, please enjoy our "Ghosts of Brisbane's Christmas Past" article - & Merry Christmas to you all, from The Haunts of Brisbane!
THIS ghost story is purely Australian, and strictly true. I well remember the commotion the ghost caused in Brisbane, but I'll tell the story in my father's own words.
The family had decided to go south by way of change for a few months, if a suitable residence could be secured. The agent declared the house he recommended to be an absolutely ideal home. Soon we were all quite at ease, including two old servants, man and wife, who occupied a small three-roomed cottage just at the back of the big house.
For about six weeks nothing occurred to disturb the ordinary routine of the establishment. Then one morning, at breakfast, the question was asked:—
"What on earth were you and the doctor quarrelling about last night; and which of you was it that screamed so frightfully?"
"Quarrelling? l and the doctor? Nonsense. You know no one could quarrel with the doctor. Besides, he is not at home. He went over to Kangaroo Point yesterday afternoon, and has not yet returned."
"And do you mean to say you were in the house, and never heard the screams?"
"No; I heard nothing. What screams do you mean?"
"I can't enlighten you. It is really a most mysterious occurrence. Come, we'll go and see old Jim. Perhaps he may throw some light on it."
But Jim knew nothing. He and his wife had gone to bed early, as was their usual custom, and were undisturbed till daylight.
But, as we were turning away, Jim remarked: "Perhaps it was the ghost."
"Ghost! What ghost?"
"Well, I don't know, of course; but the people about here say the big house is haunted. Yes; they say so."
"Don't be silly, Jim. Who told you this?"
"Well, everybody knows it. I don't know."
"Well, never mind, Jim. I shall talk to the doctor about this as soon as he comes home."
After lunch the doctor arrived. I told him the story, including, of course, Jim's revelation, which he heartily enjoyed, and laughed to scorn the suggestion of a move. "Oh, if you think we've a ghost, I'd just like to meet him. No moving for me. Very clever people, you all are. You heard somebody scream. Oh, how funny! Never thought of poor old Cocky?"
"Nonsense again, doctor. 'Poor old Cocky,' as you call him, is a useless luxury. He has never been known to open his beak for any other purpose than to bite off everything within his reach. Try something else by way of an explanation."
"I'll not try anything else. I'll just wait for your screaming ghost."
Three weeks passed. The doctor's chaff about "the ghost" dwindled down to a very fine strand. Then came a second edition of the screams. I had returned from town about 11 p.m., let myself in as usual, and went straight up to bed, noticing as I passed the doctor's room. It was in darkness.
I had only just blown the light out, and was in the act of getting into bed, when the most blood-curdling scream I ever heard ascended from below (the room in which it had first been heard). I sat up, shivered, and listened.
A silence of about ten minutes, then two more ringing shrieks, that almost stopped pulsation; once more silence. Soon after the clock chimed the half-hour. I heard the sound as of heavy footsteps ascending the stairs to my room. The door was already locked, and, in desperation, I went into the back room and picked up a nulla nulla.
With this I slipped back to my own door, on the other side of which I could hear the stertorous breathing of some living being. Then the handle of the door was turned twice—first gently, then with added force—and a third time with a wrench that loosened the handle on the outside, where it dropped, and rolled down the stairs.
Then the sound of descending footsteps was distinctly audible, and immediately afterwards another terrible scream issued from the room below. I have no objection to confess I was too paralysed by fear to prosecute any inquiries. I lay still and fervently prayed "the ghost" would visit the worthy doctor's end of the house.
And so, waiting and hoping, I fell asleep. Next morning everyone was early astir, with one exception—the doctor. Everybody else had been disturbed and frightened by the screams and sounds.
In the middle of the ghost discussion the doctor walked in, inquiring as to why we were looking so startled. I then gave him a bare statement of facts as they transpired on the preceding night, and again referred him to the others for confirmation, when he exhibited the nearest approach to anger of which I ever knew him capable, examined the brass door handle, the side of which containing the screw was torn away from the other; accused us all of being cowards, and ended by declaring that all the ghosts of the vanished past should not drive him out of the house.
So there was nothing for it but hope and pray that next time the ghostly visitor happened along it would make a special visit to the doctor's quarters.
Three weeks passed. "The ghost" returned. No one on this occasion was disturbed except the doctor. Old Jim rushed up to my room with a scared look and an appeal as to what he should do. The doctor was rolled up in his bedclothes, he said, in a most remarkable manner, declining to uncover his head, and muttering to himself. After an hour's patient struggle, we succeeded in getting his head uncovered. But what a ghastly change was there! His face was ashy white, his teeth chattered, and his eyes were fixed on vacancy.
After seeing his white face I at once sent for a medical man, who came and gave him a sleeping draught.
That day he told us this story. He said he was suddenly awakened by a terrible scream, and before him appeared what seemed to be a skeleton. As he watched the apparition it seemed to be moving towards him, and in a voice of the keenest agony and despair cried: ' Help! Help! He's coming back." Once it seemed that the thing really touched him. After that he knew no more, until he heard Jim.
Naturally enough, the story got adrift in the neighborhood, and drove the owner of the fine property to the verge of frenzy. People said nobody ever had been able to live in it, or ever would.
This fact remains. No buyer was ever found for the house. Its reputation was gone. Years afterwards the building material was sold for a mere song, and taken away, and the owner converted the grounds and garden into a miniature park or gardens. Even then people would not enter the enclosure after dark. Their faith in the ghost was maintained at fever heat by the uncanny tales they heard about the place, and the weird sights born of the imagination.
The secret of the midnight visitor was never disclosed.
