Tales of the Caribbean Sea, Part 5: Beauty & the Beasts
- Jim Watson
- Feb 27
- 5 min read
Updated: Mar 3
Like all islands in the Caribbean, the Virgin Islands have their share of tales of mystery; a dark side, if you will, dwelling alongside the fun and sun. Beyond the obligatory tales of spectral pirates and restless souls lie intriguing tales of an unconventional sort.
THE 99 STEPS
It’s not often you come across genuine werewolf stories anymore, not outside of the Scottish moors anyway. But lurking within the history of St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands are just such legends.
It was during the time of Danish rule two centuries ago when tales of werewolves were first told in these parts, tales that continue to this day.
After performing bizarre rituals involving backwards somersaults on four-legged stools, it was said that these half-human beasts would manifest themselves not on full moon nights like in the movies, but rather on nights of the new moon. New moon nights are, of course, much darker than those of the full moon. The better to stalk you by, deary.
Running uphill between the streets of Kongens Gade and Dronningens Gade under the watchful keep of Blackbeard’s Castle, you will find the so-called 99 Steps, one of the town of Charlotte Amalie’s most iconic, historic spots.
Legend says that if you are unlucky enough to find yourself being chased through the darkened streets by one of these creatures, locals advise running up the 99 Steps where it is said the werewolf, after counting all 99 steps, will be distracted looking for that non-existent 100th step. This, they say, will buy you enough time to make your escape.
Don’t believe me? To this day, a handful of St. Thomas locals who claim ancestry to these werewolves still periodically hold bonfires on Happy Beach where they dance and eat raw meat around the fire. For real.
COWFOOT WOMAN
Werewolves aren’t the only half-human, half-beast critters running around St. Thomas. Who could forget “Cowfoot Woman”? In the days of old, the story goes, there was a pleasant, friendly woman who worked in one of the many butcher stalls in the historic old I. Levin building in Charlotte Amalie.
By all accounts this woman was well liked and did her job dutifully. That is until one fateful day when a terrible accident caused one of her legs to be chopped off at the knee, or thereabouts. In those days there was, of course, no workman’s comp to give her a leg up, which meant she was out of a job.
Her solution to this dilemma was diabolically clever: she had a cow leg sewn onto her stump. By a doctor, of course.
While this meant that she could resume her career in the field of animal butchery, her new appendage was the cause of no small amount of teasing and taunting on the part of the mischievous youth of Charlotte Amalie, who were relentless in their mockery of the poor woman. This cruelty turned her bitter and vengeful against her critics, mostly toward children, with stories of her leaping at unsuspecting children from the shadows out of revenge.
Cowfoot Woman has long since passed from the world of the living, but wayward children are by no means safe. To this day, young children are warned by their parents not to stay out too late, lest they find themselves confronted by the ghost of Cowfoot Woman seeking retribution.
THE VERY UN-CHRISTIAN FORT CHRISTIAN
Looming above the city’s waterfront area, a stone’s throw from Charlotte Amalie Harbor, you will find Fort Christian, the oldest standing structure in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Built by the Danish between 1672 and 1680 to defend the settlement, it became a grim symbol of oppression during the brutal era of sugar plantations and chattel slavery. Enslaved Africans, imported by the thousands via the transatlantic trade, faced savage punishments within its walls: floggings for minor infractions, brandings, mutilations such as leg amputations for runaways and, of course, public executions by hanging in the central courtyard.
The fort doubled as a prison all the way up until 1983, which at that time made it the oldest prison in the United States. Besides slaves, its guests included rebels, pirates and common criminals, where they were kept in dank cells amid disease and despair.
These days, the fort is a museum and National Historic Landmark, its blood-red walls still echoing with this dark legacy of colonial violence, exploitation, and human suffering.
You can visit the fort, but be advised that it’s a self-guided tour. You see, I was told during my visit there that the jumbies (the Caribbean term for "ghosts") within its cursed walls are so prevalent and so bothersome that it seems they just can’t keep tour guides on the payroll for long.
As recently as the 1990s, tourists visiting the site were required to sign waivers upon entry in case they were harmed by any jumbies. True story.
BREWERS BEACH
If you’re like me and a lazy tropical beach getaway is what you want, Brewer’s Beach is a quick jitney ride away for only a couple bucks. (The main street along the waterfront, aptly named Waterfront Highway, features colorful open-air buses zooming up and down, stopping at the regular bus stops to pick up and drop off passengers. They’re all over the place, until you need one).
Above the pristine lagoon with its lazy hawksbill sea turtles grazing sea plants is a cave with a tragic history. Naturally, being a cave on an island in the Caribbean it has legends of pirate gold buried within attached to it and with the obligatory ghost standing guard over it. Many attempts to search for this supposed treasure have been made over the decades with one resulting in the death of one of the spelunkers.
In 1929, a group of U.S. Navy servicemen, drawn by tales of hidden riches, attempted to explore the cave by rappelling from the cliff top into the opening. Tragically, one of them
died during the attempt. The fatal accident heightened the cave's mystique, superstitions, and "cursed" reputation in local lore, as reported in 1929 newspaper accounts of later expeditions. To this date, no treasure has ever been found. Or if it was, all lips are sealed.
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