It was the two haunting portraits that hung on the wall of the old homestead that visitors seemed to remember most. For many years, they were prominently displayed on the wall of Comstock Lodge in the Flanders section of East Lyme.

Not long ago, I stumbled upon their mention in the July 7, 1898, East Lyme Historical Society minutes. Bessie Manwaring had submitted a piece that had been included in the society’s annual meeting. Dr. Manwaring was an English professor at Wellesley College for 44 years and an important contributor to East Lyme’s past. This is what she added to the historical record that year, as she lamented the loss of so many of the great stories of old.

“Many a real-life romance is stranger than fiction … One such romance is recalled by the sight of two pictures which hang on the wall of one of the town’s oldest houses, Comstock Lodge. One is the portrait of a handsome man of 28 or thereabout whose high stock and ruffled front lend him a dignified air and under whose arm an insignia of his calling as a sea captain, the artist has painted a spyglass. The other picture represents his wife. It is a beautiful face with those haunting eyes peculiar to some portraits that seem to follow the beholders movements all about the room. It may be the dark ending of her story which causes it, but as one looks, there seems to be a kind of pensive sadness in the face above the wide lace collar and short-waisted gown of other days.” When I read this, I was hooked and wanted to know more about this mysterious couple whose images had been captured so many years ago.

As we examine the historic record, we find that local sea-captain James Loomis was born in 1800 in what, after 1839, would become the town of East Lyme. At age 26, Loomis would marry a local woman by the name of Hetty Eliza Comstock.

It was common for influential people at the time to have their portraits commissioned to decorate their homes and perpetuate their legacy. This couple’s tombstone can still be found in the East Lyme Cemetery up in Flanders, declaring that both departed this world on the exact same day: December 1, 1831. Further research makes it clear that no earthly remains are to be found beneath their gravestone. The epitaph “Lost at Sea” carved deeply into the stone, explains why that is so.

Hetty Loomis was the oldest daughter of Peter Comstock, a prominent Lyme resident, who not only was Judge of Probate but someone who had served in both houses of the Connecticut legislature. Captain Loomis had done well in his short life, part owner of several ships, 1/3 owner of an oil mill on Gurley Road and owner of an island off the Lyme shore, purchased exclusively for the fishing rights. Most lucrative of all was his involvement in the East Coast shipping trade, which found him frequenting many southern rivers and ports, particularly in Alabama. Hetty and James Loomis, as their portraits suggested, made a striking couple and life looked promising. They had only one child. His name was James.

In 1831, Captain Loomis commissioned a flat-bottomed center-board schooner to be built in Norwich. It was one of the first of its kind and was christened the “Alabama.” That ship would later be docked in New London harbor.

In the waning months of that same year, Captain Loomis planned a voyage in his new ship to Mobile, Alabama, and wanted Hetty to accompany him. She had been a frequent onboard companion during earlier voyages, but that was before she had given birth to their now 3-year-old son. Citing the boy’s current nurture and care, she originally declined her husband’s offer, but he persisted and at the last minute Hetty changed her mind.

The child was left in the care of his paternal grandparents as the couple and their crew set sail for New York, where they would take on cargo for their journey south. A later report of the ship sadly offers the following. “She was spoken once not far out from Sandy Hook and from henceforth she disappeared from human view as utterly as though the sea had opened and engulfed her.” And … so began the long-standing mystery of the schooner “Alabama.”

As with all mysteries, it did not take long for numerous “explanations” to spring up. Several people from Lyme who were slated to go on the voyage but had declined at the last minute reported that they felt impending dread, imagined blood on the new deck, heard strange voices whisper in their ear, or cited the unsavory and suspicious nature of the crew as their reason(s) for not going. A pirate uprising was suspected by some, a perilous storm by others. One tale told of a shore on some southern island “protected from the destroying influence of storm and sea” where was found the name of the young wife scratched in the sand but no trace of her or her husband anywhere to be found.

A crew member by the name of George Warren (who was Hatti Loomis’s cousin) much later returned to the area in rather compromised condition but refused to explain what had happened to the ship. His identity was strongly questioned despite his knowledge of many of George Warren’s personal affairs (he also happened to have a similar scar on his right foot). The man was tossed into a New London jail as an imposter but was eventually released. He left for New York, proclaiming that he knew exactly what had happened to the “Alabama,” but because he was not believed and was treated so poorly, he vowed to remain forever silent on the matter.

The most reliable accounting of the ship’s fate comes from a March 13, 1832, article in the Boston Traveler newspaper. Captain Dennis aboard the schooner “Franklin” pens the following observation: “Standing at S.W.18th inst. lat.33” 58’, long. 71 degrees we fell in with a wreck of a brig or schooner, nearly new, masts gone, bowsprit standing, had ‘ONDON’ on her stern, the last letters of the name of the place to which she belonged.”

The harbor of NEW L-ONDON would never see the likes of that flat bottomed, center-board schooner “Alabama” again. Nor would its handsome owners ever reappear. Young James Loomis would never again set eyes on his loving parents (although he would later go to sea looking for them before he too would disappear) and the East Lyme area would begin a lengthy vigil and mourning period befitting this tragic loss.