Joseph Bexfield was a Wherryman on the River Yare in Norfolk, spending his days sailing his barge between Norwich and Yarmouth.
By night, Joseph would join his fellow sailors for a drink in the White Horse Inn at Thurlton Staithe, their boats safely tied up at the staithe until morning.
On the 11 August 1809, after many a flagon of ale, Joseph noticed something out on the marsh. A light was bobbing in the gloom. He peered into the darkness and could make out a small figure scurrying this way and that, a try lantern in its hand.
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Was this a ne'er-do-well trying to make off with their moored wherrys? In a fury, Joseph was ready to storm out of the pub and see them off, but his friends stopped him. They'd heard legends of the Lantern Men, evil pixies who would lead unwary souls to their death. If they didn't drag you to a watery grave, the little people could steal the very breath from your lungs, "H a Lantern Man is upon ye," said one of Joseph's compatriots, "throw yeself flat on ye face and halt ye breathing."
Joseph laughed off the warnings, and finishing his drink, he set off to grab a parcel for his wife that he'd left on the wherry. His drinking buddies begged him not to go, but Joseph wasn't one to be put off by ghosts and sprites and and headed off into the night, whistling brightly. Three days later, his body was washed up at the exact place he usually mored his wherry.
To this day locals say that on warm August nights, you can hear a nervous the wind or see a ghostly figure wandering lost near the Yare. Today some would say the dancing phosphorescent lights are just gas spontaneously combusting as it escapes from decaying matter, but can you really be sure that the light on the marsh is not a Lantern Man searching for another human soul?
