Ring-a-ding.
According to information supplied by “Full Private” in his account of the doings of “Potter’s Own” at Easter, some officers’ peace of mind was disturbed by ringing of bells within Fort Nelson, apparently without human agency, and by other mysterious events, and the suggestion is that, owing to a suicide or something of that kind, Fort Nelson is haunted.
Now, as in my position as Joker-General I entirely repudiate any spiritual manifestations, I accordingly invite those officers who were witnesses of the events described to contribute a full and circumspect account in this journal of all that happened. I in return, pledge my reputation to clear away the cobwebs and mystery surrounding the whole business, even if I have to pay a visit to Fort Nelson to accomplish my end. I only bargain that my correspondents shall narrate every incident, and also say if certain sodas and whiskies excited their imaginations. Who will accept the challenge?
Islington Gazette, 2nd May 1889.
Mysteries of Early Morning.
Sir, – In your impression of the 2nd inst. the “Merrie Villager,” in an amusing paragraph, treats lightly of certain matters that took place last Eastertide at Fort Nelson, near Portsmouth, where the 21st Middlesex Rifles were located, and which the “Full Private” also touched upon. Before proceeding to relate my experiences, I wish the “Joker-General” to know that my peace of mind was not disturbed, but my rest was. For his information, I may state that the incidents I am about to narrate were not the outcome of undue libations at the shrine of the rosy god. In other words, my imagination was not excited by sundry sodas and whiskies, or other tempered alcoholic drinks. I have also to mention that I am by no means superstitious, and hold in contempt all so-called spiritual manifestations as table-turning, spirit-rapping, writing on locked slates, and other conjuring tricks that form the stock-in-trade of the professional medium.
On Good Friday evening, all the officers of the regiment retired to rest very early. Captain G. Bowyer, Quartermaster Baker, and myself were the last to retire. I turned in at 11 p.m. but could not sleep. I may here state that the officers’ quarters in the fort are situated in the casemates, and that their respective rooms are located right and left of a long corridor.
I must have gone to sleep soon after midnight. I was rudely awakened by a curious double knock on the panel of my door. It was a strange muffled rap, such as I have never heard before, and which I cannot clearly describe. I started up and called out, “Who is there?” No answer was returned, and the silence was painfully profound. I looked at my watch, and saw that the time was half-past three. I pride myself upon possessing strong nerves, but, singularly to relate, on this occasion I was shaking like an aspen, my heart was violently palpitating, and I was in a cold sweat. I lay awake for a considerable time after, but the knocks were not repeated.
“Dyspepsia or nightmare,” murmurs the ‘Merrie Villager;’ “too great an indulgence in turtle, salmon, rich entrees, ice pudding, &c., new champagne and fruity port.” Nothing of the kind, Mr Editor. The officers’ dinner on that particular night had been of almost Spartan simplicity. Clear soup, joints, and light puddings was the menu. There was a course of fish, but in transit from London it became flat, stale, and unprofitable, and had it been a talking fish, it might have exclaimed, “O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven.”
I did not mention the circumstance of the mysterious knocking to any one in the morning.
Late on Saturday night, or early on Sunday morning, Mr Barker, an officer of ours, was disturbed by the ringing of bells in his room, which continued for some times, and brought all of the officers, with the exception of the staff, to the spot. There were two bells in Mr Barker’s room, and the connecting wires, after passing down the wall, went through the concrete floor to another part of the building. Search was made all over the fort to try and discover the practical joker who was making “night hideous,” but in vain.
I have every reason to believe that some of the officers subsequently, to heighten the effect caused by the ringing, found means to agitate the wires connected with the bells in Mr Barker’s room. After a time the best of jokes pall, and although the ringing did not entirely cease, all the officers went to bed; but I stayed up.
The lights in the passages were out, but through the upper part of one of the doors, a subdued light from a candle burning within the room was reflected through the fan-light. As I went towards my quarters, I distinctly saw a shadow pass in front of me, and disappear into the ante-chamber leading to the officers’ mess-room. Thinking that I had solved the mystery of the ringing, and was on the track of the offender against the general peace, I darted into the apartment, which was dimly lighted by a table-lamp, but no one was there.
I then went towards the mess-room, but that was also untenanted, the mess-sergeant having gone to bed. Fairly puzzled, I retired, and slept soundly. I kept my own counsel as to incident number two.
On the Sunday I heard for the first time that a soldier some time ago committed suicide in the fort, and I was also told that an officer had shot his servant some years ago in the officers’ quarters; and likewise that curious and unaccountable sounds were occasionally heard at night in the building. The latter information I regarded as an idle tale, country people of all grades being more or less superstitious.
On the Sunday night I related my experiences to the colonel, the chaplain, and others.
I will now narrate my third and last experience. At 2 [a.m.?] on Easter Monday, being an orderly officer, I had to attend to the captain of the day, and assist in quelling a disturbance that had broken out in the barracks. I then went to bed, and was soon in the land of dreams. Strange to relate, I suddenly woke up, and accidentally turning my eyes towards the bells in my room, I saw, by the light of the fire, one of the brass indicators steadily moving backwards and forwards, like the pendulum of a clock. I lit the candle, looked at my watch, and saw that it was just half-past three, an hour corresponding to the time when I was aroused by the strange knocking on the panel, as previously narrated. Curiously enough, the indicator kept moving, although there was no vibration of the bell-wire. The bell did not ring, neither did the clapper move.
There was no draught in the room. Had I been aroused by the noise of the bell or bells ringing, I should have put the matter down as a stupid practical joke; but why, upon suddenly awakening, the indicator was seen by me to be in motion, without any apparent cause, I am at a loss to explain. This incident was weirdly startling, and was enough to disturb the nerves of the strongest. However, I dismissed the subject from my mind, turned round, and went to sleep.
In the former part of my letter I expressed an opinion that a great deal of practical joking had been indulged in by some persons, but if the individual, or individuals, who so cleverly carried out the mysterious knocking, the flitting shadow on the wall, and the strange movements of the bell indictator in my room, were to exhibit similar manifestations in public, the enterprising and clever entertainers at the Egyptian-hall, Piccadilly, would have to look to their laurels.
In conclusion, Mr Editor, although very sceptical on matters supernatural, I will quote a passage from one of my humble creations of the “creepy” order, and which was written by me in all due seriousness: – “I am one of those who do not believe in the wisdom of throwing discredit upon matters of an occult nature. Our ancesters in the remote past were grossly superstitious in many things, but after all they were more strictly religious than we of the enlightened eighteenth century. A disbelief in spiritual subjects paves the way to infidelity. It is true that the age of miracles has passed, but that is no reason for doubting the entity of an unseen world, or discrediting the theory that its denizens may for some wise purpose possess the power of returning to the scenes of their mundane existence.”
This quotation the “Merrie Villager” may take for what it is worth, but I think that he will acknowledge its point, and agree also with the genius who wrote for all time, that “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.” I am, &c., T.C. Walls. Captain, 21st Middlesex R.V.
Islington Gazette, 9th May 1889.
Ring-ding – My challenge to those officers of the Finsbury Rifles who were affected by mysterious bell-ringing and other occurrences, has been accepted by Captain T.C. Walls, who gives a lengthy description (published in last Thursday’s edition of this journal) of the proceedings. The details, I admit, seem very remarkable; but I do not doubt but what I shall be able to clear up the apparent mystery in a day or two.
Still, I must point out that all Captain Wall’s statements do not quite correspond, and, but for his assurance to the contrary, should have been inclined to think that sundry whiskies and sodas had excited his imagination.
Ding-a-ring- For instance, it is remarkable to read that the peace of mind of Captain Walls was not disturbed, although – to use his own words – he was shaking like an aspen, his heart was violently palpitating, and he was in a cold sweat. If a man could preserve his peace of mind under such conditions, then assuredly I must doubt Captain Wall’s assertion that “the age of miracles has passed.” There are some points requiring elucidation, and I invite oher officers who witnessed or experienced similar manifestation to Captain Walls, to supply me with their own version, in order that I may have firm data upon which to work.
I may say that I am indebted to a friendly official in the neighbourhood of Portsmouth for a plan of Fort Nelson and other details which will enable me to follow any description that may be furnished. I take naturally a great interest in bell-ringing, and if I could only get a friendly ghost to do my bell-ringing for me, I should be saved many a weary hour of labour. I would cherish him, and never send him to the wall.
Islington Gazette, 16th May 1889