Whimsy on a Wednesday bringing you a pirate’s romp along England’s Northern Shores

I went on another trip to the seaside. This time up northeast to Whitby to visit my Best Friend Forevs.  

This weekend was Regatta weekend which meant it was very busy with lots of entertainment going on from music…

to trips out to sea…

to clifftop walks…

to sunsets on the shoreline…

and not an argument was to be had anywhere…

Happy Summer Days!

But then, as I wandered from the Abbey through the graveyard of St Mary’s Church I sensed a chill on my skin. A whistle of wind whispered near my ear like a warm breath. Could it be Dracula? Legend has it he is buried here in this very cemetery. Those in the know say there are two graves with skulls and crossbones carved into them, and one of them is his. 

I couldn’t miss that opportunity so my friend showed the graves to me.

“Pirate Graves.” she said, pointing at the stone tombs.”If you look closely you can just about make out the skull and crossbones here.” 

Years of folklore have had many believe that Dracula is buried in St Mary’s, and if it ain’t pirates under one of those slabs, then it could be the Dark Lord himself. 

These types of graves can be found all over the UK and are said to be the graves of members of the Knights Templar. Who knows what to believe? St Mary’s seems to have some well-known corpses in its sacred grounds from The Count, Humpty Dumpty, Tom Thumb, and William Scoresby Sr, the man who invented the Crow’s Nest.  

But, I’m in the camp that says that pirates be lying there. How can a skull and crossbones at a seaport be anything other? There is one indeed that belongs to a pirate and his beloved wife. He bestowed on her many gifts and jewels that he plundered from other seafarers and travellers. One time he brought her back a beautiful shawl that he stole from a young girl he had murdered on a ship. His wife loved the shawl so much that she saved it for her Sunday best. On that first Sunday, she donned the shawl and went to admire how it looked on her in the mirror. Instead of seeing herself, she saw the face of the murdered girl staring back at her screaming. The pirate’s wife went hysterical and died soon after. 

Never let a bloke choose your clothing.

Anyway, that’s enough swashbuckling from me. Until next time, buccaneers.