Better to be killed than frightened to death.
R. S. Surtees
From the annals of American folklore and tradition has evolved the stereotypical description of a witch. The word conjures up a vivid mental picture: she is an old, grotesque woman with a pronounced hooked nose with a prominent wart on it; she is attired in black or dark clothing and a tall, pointed hat; her stooped frame is stirring a large, black cauldron over a fire; and sitting nearby in the sinister setting is a black cat.
As frightening as is the classic picture, the “real” witch has been documented as an even more ominous entity because of her ability to change her physical appearance into forms ranging from a beautiful woman to a menacing black cat. Accordingly, this tale of horror from Chowan County tells of a lovely young lady, the hardworking miller who married her, a black cat, and witchcraft.
One of the most famous water mills in North Carolina was the Brownrigg Mill, the construction of which was authorized by the County Court of Chowan County in July 1762. A decade after the mill went into operation on Indian Creek, Tim Farrow was appointed as the miller in charge. A tireless and conscientious worker, Tim often remained at the mill to drop his fishing line in the dark waters after a day of hard labor. He was often observed at twilight making his way to his cottage across the dam with a string of catfish and perch.
Surrounding the millpond was a forbidding wilderness. One day, darkness was fast closing in on a pleasant afternoon of fishing when Tim looked up from the glassy waters to cautiously survey the spooky vastness all about him. He noticed a canoe making its way on to the pond from the shadow lands. Across the water it came, finally to the point where the miller could ascertain that its only occupant was a woman. Covering her head was a Shaker bonnet. From a distance, she appeared to be a rather old hag. But when the canoe pulled up to the dam, a young woman of breathtaking beauty emerged. The lady looked to be fatigued and hungry. Tim readily consented to her request for food and a place to spend the night.
The female visitor related a woeful story of distress and impoverishment. Tim was soon taken with his guest, but his attraction to her was far more than physical. Her personality, her mannerisms, her efforts to turn the cottage into a comfortable home, and her motherly tenderness for his daughter caused the middle-aged widower to fall in love with her. In but a short time, they were married.
The newlyweds had little time to settle down to a life of marital bliss, for Tim’s neighbors were suspicious of his wife and perceived that there was something evil about her. Not far from the mill lived a woman with whom Tim’s wife had spent a night before she met him. According to the woman, the feather bed in which the mysterious lady had slept was depressed only in a small, round spot in the center, as if a cat had lain there.
Then the residents of area farms were stricken with a strange illness that local physicians had never seen. After several persons died from the malady, there was a hue and cry that Tim’s spouse was a witch.
When several neighbors paid a visit to the miller and demanded that his wife be banished from the area, Tim angrily dismissed his callers. Before long, business at the mill dropped and profits plummeted. Tim feared that his livelihood was in jeopardy. So, too, was his marriage, for his vibrant, young wife seemed to be losing interest in him.
As if these troubles were not enough, various mechanical problems and other difficulties began to manifest themselves at the mill. Water gates that Tim had closed were found partially open. Nails that mysteriously appeared in the hopper caused erratic movements of the millstones. Bear-grass thongs, used by the miller to tie the sacks of grain and meal, were found scattered about the mill when he reported for work each morning. Sacks of corn were torn open, the kernels spilled all over the floor.
Mounting anger spurred Tim to action. Indignant that his neighbors would sabotage the mill and waste its product, he decided to lie in wait at night for the culprits.
Several nights produced no intruders, other than the usual rats scurrying about in the darkness in search of food. Tim pondered what he should do next.
When a fierce thunderstorm struck close to nightfall, a strange feeling came over him that the source of his torment would return that stormy night. Consequently, he told his wife that he was going to a store some distance away and would return home very late. Instead, he hurried back to the mill, where he went into hiding behind some large bags of freshly ground meal.
His uncomfortable wait was rendered even more unpleasant by the crashing thunder, flashing lightning, and torrential rainfall that pounded the building. Finally, the storm relented, but the sound of its fury was supplanted by a loud, eerie cacophony produced by the multitude of frogs in the millpond. For Tim, this racket was more disconcerting than the storm, because frogs were often associated with the devil and were used by witches to cast spells.
Then came more sounds and sights to add to Tim’s uneasiness. Fireflies, in numbers and with a brightness Tim had never seen before, made their way into the mill and produced an odd blinking effect in the otherwise dark building. An enormous owl found a perch atop the roof and offered three horrific screeches that almost caused the miller to jump out of his skin.
Ordinarily, Tim would have thought nothing of the storm, the frogs, the fireflies, or the owl, but taken together on that frightful night, he saw them as an omen. His heart pounding rapidly, he jumped to his feet, anxious to reach the safety of his cottage. But before he could leave, there were loud knocks at the door.
“Who would come to the mill at this time of night?” Tim thought to himself. There was no opportunity to answer the knocks, because the door suddenly flew open. In sprang a mass of forty black cats. Backs arched, tails bushed out, eyes glowing, the animals encircled the miller as if they were controlled by a supernatural force. Tim could hardly believe his eyes when the ferocious felines, moving almost in unison, slowly closed the circle to the point where they could strike at him with their claws.
In his time of danger, Tim had the presence of mind to grab a nearby ax. Gripping it firmly, he raised the weapon over his head and slammed it down in the direction of an especially evil-looking old cat that had been clawing at him. The blade chopped off the right front foot of the animal. Screaming in agony, the cat hobbled out the back door, followed by the other felines.
Anxious to relate the horrifying events of the evening to his wife, Tim hurried to the cottage. But his real nightmare was just beginning. That his wife was already in bed was not unusual, because the hour was late. However, her right hand had been severed at the wrist. Speechless, Tim stood near the bed as if in a daydream. When he came to his senses, he commenced interrogating her about her missing member. No answers were forthcoming, for the woman suddenly changed into a cat and ran out of the cottage.
Tim was ready to give chase when he heard a loud roaring of water, as if a flood were bearing down on the millpond. He dashed to raise the gates in order to save the mill. When he was halfway across the dam, the structure began to shake and tremble. In an instant, more than a hundred feet of the dam were washed away by the onrushing water. Tim’s night of terror came to a final, tragic end when he drowned in the deluge.
In the wake of Tim’s death, the dam was repaired and a new miller was hired to operate the facility. Soon after he took charge, an old, black cat with three legs began to annoy the man as he went about his daily duties. At length, he decided to put an end to the pest. He loaded his gun with silver money, aimed it at the cat, and squeezed the trigger. Folks in that part of Chowan County were never again bothered by witches.