ON THE BLUFF above the last bend before the Sampit River opens into Winyah Bay, sits the graceful and charming Heriot House.
Built around 1760 at the river end of Cannon Street, this stately dwelling commands a breathtaking view of the Georgetown waterfront from its high perch.
The Heriot House has been the scene of such intense romance and intrigue through the years that those involved have left indelible impressions upon the house. All of the clandestine events that have so affected this dwelling have been direct results of the home’s key position above the river.
The builder of the Heriot House is not known, but it is obvious that he took great care to keep the construction of the house appropriate to its glorious location.
The brick foundation of the house was designed with a series of high arches. These vaulted crescents not only lent beauty to an otherwise plain portion of colonial construction, they also provided ventilation for the lower floor. This feature has proved invaluable in saving the Heriot House from the occasional flooding and constant dampness brought by close proximity to the river.
The generous area under the foundation created a cool cellar where residents stored fruits and vegetables during the subtropical summer months.
Along the bottom of each long plank of the home’s clapboard siding is a carved, horizontal bead. This edge, a common feature of the time, was meant to act as a rain repellant. It forced the rain to the right or left of each clapboard rather than letting the liquid seep into the wood. The beaded edge along the clapboard siding has been a major factor in preserving the exterior of this home despite its exposure to bitter storms that sweep in from the Atlantic.
Adding to the quintessentially colonial style of the Heriot House are the nine-over-nine sash windows, many panes of which still contain hand-blown glass. The glass is identifiable by its tell tale bubbles and wavy countenance.
A massive king post, which can be seen emerging from the striking red-tiled roof, runs squarely through the center of the structure. This huge central support provides a uniquely ship-like central stability to the house, comparable to that of the tall-masted sailing vessels that docked nearby.
An early owner of the Heriot House built two red-brick buildings directly across Cannon Street from his home. One was a waterfront warehouse called the Red Store. The other was a three-story tavern called the French Tavern or the Oak Tavern.
The warehouse was used to store mail, silks, French wines, and other imported rarities that were unloaded from the huge sailing ships docked at the adjacent Red Store wharf. Many travelers also boarded and disembarked from ships at the Red Store wharf. The area across the street from the Heriot House became the scene of many joyous reunions and tearful goodbyes. Those who set sail from the Red Store wharf faced their journey with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, for sea travel was still dangerous in those days. Many of the travelers on these sailing vessels never reached their destination.
On the night of December 30, during the War of 1812, the packet ship Patriot was tied up at the Red Store wharf, awaiting its cargo and passengers.
The Patriot was sailing for New York the next day. Among her booked passengers was the glamorous Theodosia Burr Alston, wife of South Carolina Governor Joseph Alston and daughter of the former vice-president, Aaron Burr.
On the eve of her journey, Theodosia was entertained in a nearby townhouse where friends were giving a farewell fete in her honor.
The soirée ended early, and Theodosia returned to her comfortable lodgings at the Heriot House, where she was to spend the night before her voyage.
On the morning of December 31, Theodosia walked down the Red Store wharf and boarded the Patriot. She expected to spend a fortnight at sea—perhaps less if the weather was favorable.
Sad and disconsolate, the normally dynamic young woman did not care if the journey took months, except that she longed to see her father in New York. Theodosia had been slow to recover her natural gaiety, lively spirits, and fair health following the death of her only son the previous summer. Adding to her poor condition was a recent bout with ill health, as well as constant worry for her father.
Aaron Burr had been known as one of America’s greatest statesmen when he served as Thomas Jefferson’s vice-president. However, Burr was known for his fiery temper, which had recently caused him a great deal of trouble. Not only was he accused of treason for plotting against the United States, he had also killed Alexander Hamilton, the former Secretary of the Treasury, in a duel.
It was hoped by Theodosia, and all who loved her, that the ocean voyage to New York and the extended visit with her father might restore her health and spirits.
After the Patriot, with Theodosia aboard, sailed into the brisk Atlantic, neither the ship nor her passengers were ever seen or heard from again.
It is believed that the Patriot was caught in a fierce January storm and sank after foundering on the deadly rocks off the treacherous Outer Banks of North Carolina. Others speculate that the vessel’s heavy guns, a necessary precaution during the War of 1812, broke from their mounts during a storm and gouged the Patriot’s hull, causing her to break up and sink.
More eerily, there are tales of deathbed confessions from pirates who swore with their dying breaths that they had captured the Patriot and murdered all on board.
Whatever the fate of the lovely Theodosia, she took her last footsteps on earth in front of the Red Store beside the Heriot House.
She is rumored to still linger along the waterfront by the Heriot House. It is said that she comes there to eternally retrace the footsteps of her last moments on earth, before the sailing vessel Patriot carried her to her death.
Many believe the spirit of another beautiful young woman also roams the grounds around the Heriot House.
Several years after the death of Theodosia, in the era of wealth and opulence that preceded the Civil War, a lovely, golden-haired girl lived with her parents in the already historic Heriot House.
She was a well-educated, sheltered Georgetown belle whose favorite pastime was caring for her dogs.
One afternoon, this sweet-natured girl was strolling along the waterfront near her home with her two immaculately groomed canines. Her beauty and grace caught the attention of a handsome young man who was aboard one of the ships docked at her father’s wharf.
The young Northern man, a crew member of his uncle’s great sailing ship, had never seen a woman as breathtaking as the elegant figure who meandered along the riverside, her parasol in one hand and the dual leash of her proper, well-mannered dogs in the other.
The smitten young gallant wasted no time in making the acquaintance of the pretty girl, much to her delight.
The two had an instant rapport. They began to rendezvous daily during the hour the young lady walked her dogs.
When the girl’s father discovered his daughter had a beau off a Yankee ship, he furiously told the captain to keep his nephew away from the girl or dock his ship somewhere else.
The ship’s captain chose to dock elsewhere rather than meddle in his nephew’s love life.
To the dismay of the young belle and her beau, the ship was forced to anchor out in the harbor, as no other tie-up was available along the busy waterfront at that time.
Love, however, quickly and ingeniously found a way.
The determined and innovative young Northerner immediately sent his belle a message. He told her to signal when her parents were asleep by placing a light in the third-story dormer window of her home. Then he would know that she could safely slip out of the house, and he could come from the ship to meet her.
The girl eagerly complied, delighted that her romance was not foiled after all. From the lofty window she could see far across Winyah Bay. The young man would have no trouble seeing her light from aboard the ship’s lonely anchorage.
That very night, the young couple began using their signal to meet in the formal, bay laurel maze beside the Heriot House. Here, among the dense ornamental hedges, the young couple would stroll hand in hand and embrace without fear of discovery.
Resigned to follow a secret relationship, the handsome Northern man and the Georgetown belle parted with plans to meet whenever the young man’s ship was in the vicinity.
For nearly twenty years, the golden-haired lady placed a light in the appointed window late at night to signal her beau whenever his ship docked in the Georgetown harbor. They continued to rendezvous in the quiet of the bay laurel maze but never married, even after parental consent was no longer a factor.
For reasons unknown, the Northern man eventually stopped coming. He visited neither Georgetown nor the lady. It is not known what fate befell him; whether he married another, died, or simply ended the relationship. Whatever the reason, the lady became bitter and reclusive. Her memories of their stolen moments haunted her.
She continued to place the light in the window, but did so less and less. Each time she lit the little flame that once heralded her sweet, clandestine meeting, she gazed across the harbor, wondering what had become of her lover.
Often, very late at night, the lonely lady would walk her dogs in the old maze. Even as she felt the bitter winter winds that whistled through the branches she remembered the warm nights filled with the scent of bay laurel.
The beloved dogs of her girlhood had given way to a pack of faithful dogs. These canines were their mistress’ only companions as well as her protectors. The dogs made her feel safe even though she was all alone in the big waterfront house.
Even during the darkest days of the Civil War, when Union ships and gunboats blockaded the harbor, she felt secure due to her devoted and formidable canine friends.
As those wronged or disappointed in love often do, the lady turned her attention from her grief to a greater cause.
The Union blockade of Georgetown’s harbor had deprived the Confederate troops of desperately needed medical supplies.
The watchful lady of the Heriot House began placing a light in the uppermost window to signal blockade runners that all was clear. When the blockade runners saw this signal they knew they could slip into the harbor undetected by Union ships and unload their precious, life-saving supplies.
The lady of the Heriot House saved many lives by using her vantage point high over the harbor to covertly help the Confederate smugglers.
After the war was over, the lady grew more and more reclusive. Once again, she rarely spent time with any companions save her faithful dogs. Naturally, much good-natured barking emitted from the home of the pack of pampered canines.
For this reason, no one paid much attention to the howling that resounded through the house one moonlit night, even though the sound carried eerily throughout the neighborhood.
The dogs often bayed at the moon when it was full, as it was that evening. However, as the night wore on, the howling did not stop. By morning it had reached a terrible crescendo.
Neighbors, worried about the reclusive lady, were unable to get her to answer her door. Finally, around mid-morning, they broke in to see if she was hurt or ill.
A large dog met the well-meaning intruders at the door. Alternately growling and whining, it scarcely allowed them to cautiously make their way toward the sound of the eerie howling.
Once past the large dog the neighbors quickly found out why the pack of canines had been baying so mournfully the whole night.
The mistress of Heriot House lay dead on the floor.
Over half a dozen howling dogs, both large and small, guarded the body of their dead mistress.
Nearby was a bucket of water with a dipper laying beside it. Those who found her assumed that the lady died while fetching water for her canine friends.
After the lady’s death, strange events began to occur around the house.
At first, the next occupants of Heriot House were baffled by a light shining beneath the door of the rarely used third-floor dormer room. The source of the light was never discovered and, as time passed, they became used to it.
What they never grew accustomed to was something more discreet, but much more unsettling—the faint sound of dogs’ nails clicking across the hardwood floors.
Strange lights and sounds aside, the Heriot House was a happy home to more than one owner until shortly after the turn of the century. Then the house was vacated. Soon the charming old home, neglected and unloved, became a haven for vagrants and hobos. During Prohibition, rumrunners placed lights in the uppermost window of the dark, nearly deserted, Heriot House to signal their companions in the harbor that it was safe to bring their illegal cargo into town for unloading.
Lights, both real and ghostly, were often seen in the high dormer window of the old home.
Nearby residents spoke in hushed tones of seeing a mysterious young couple walking among the overgrown bay laurels that were once clipped and trained into a formal maze.
Always, too, there was an eerie howling that came from the house on nights of the full moon.
During the late 1930s, the Heriot House was bought and restored to its former beauty. After the restoration, whisperings of strange occurrences decreased, but did not stop.
Even now, when the moon is full and high over Georgetown harbor, a light is sometimes seen in the third-story window of the Heriot House, and a golden-haired girl may be glimpsed near the waterfront, strolling with her secret lover.
The Heriot House, built circa 1760,
is located at 15 Cannon Street on the
Georgetown waterfront.