A Burwell’s Bay Story

In the early Fifties, when I was a little girl of five, I spent more than six months with my mother in a cottage that faced Burwell’s Bay on the James River. My father and sister only came on weekends because of work and school. Our family had been going there a long time before this long stay. During those wonderful six months at Burwell’s Bay I was rarely supervised, which encouraged great daily adventures similar to those of Huck Finn!

We had one of the Hardy’s Cottages that were very close to the water. Behind the cottages a path led across an old walking bridge that let me walk up the hill to check out the cow farm. Daily I would follow the black and white cows when they came down the hill in the morning and then later in the day I would follow them back up the hill. So much wildlife co-existed with them and I just loved discovering so many new sights. Once I even adopted a mole that I named Cup, and often took her with me, though she much preferred dirt to sand and tides.

Nearby, a wonderful pier, called a pavilion, went a long way out over the water from the beach. There was a restaurant at the end of the long pier, a pool table and a dance floor. Whenever we went there, I talked with people who were fishing or crabbing. I remember that we made buying a Coke a game. Each drink had a state’s name imprinted on it. The person with the most “distant” Coke won and the others had to pay for his drink.

I loved the view of the bay, the water itself, and the wonderful power boats tied up close to the shore so I could play on them. What awed me the most was the sight and sound of the huge battleships from World War II called the Ghost Fleet. Those ships would really shake in a storm, and when they creaked and groaned I thought they were calling me to visit them. I was curious about where all the military passengers went and why those beautiful ships stayed so empty and lonely.

The ships often sent me some of their treasures, such as all sorts of meals in tin cans with its own key. I found lots of surprises on the beaches and one of the best things I found there were two of my “best friends,” Big Sam and Riley.

They were good friends who made their living off the water. I spotted them when they were getting their big fishing boat ready to go out to catch fish, eels and crabs. When I asked if I could join then, they promised to ask my mother if I could go the next day.

They kept their promise and assured my mother that they would love to have me fish with them and would be very careful, because they had big families and were used to looking after youngsters like me. They had a nearby farm and brought us milk and eggs and invited me to play with their kids and animals. I often wonder if their farmhouse, right before the entrance to Burwell’s Bay, is still here.

I got to go out on their big boat often. Sam and Riley would take me to the Ghost Fleet that I loved! Sometimes the ships were as still as mice. Sometimes they made loud groans and clanking sounds or no sounds at all, which really created a scary, melancholy atmosphere. The fleet frequently seemed ghostlike and lonely. I think the ships felt abandoned. But at least they had me to care about them. The Ghost Fleet is slowly being reduced one ship at a time and I hope I get a chance to visit them one more time before all the ships are gone.

I was inspired to tell this story about my connection to the James River after reading the article written by Heather Murdoch, JRA’s Education Coordinator, concerning the Ghost Fleet in “Secrets of the James.” 

~Jon Ruffin Jones Montgomery, Bon Air