Sooty Tern

Nathaniel Sandler

In two nights sleeping under the arches at Fort Jefferson, I never saw the ghost. It is legend, or hearsay, but the myth persists. I trawled the halls regularly, even audibly coaxing at times to Dr. Samuel Mudd, the villainous co-conspirator against Lincoln, or any other poor soul who may have lived a life unfulfilled and made a specter amongst the fortified brick. There were plenty of candidates.