USS Constitution

The world's oldest commissioned warship still afloat, launched in 1797. "Old Ironsides" saw action in the War of 1812 and has been berthed in Boston since 1897. The ship has witnessed over two centuries of naval history and countless deaths.

She has never lost a battle, never been captured, and never surrendered. But the sailors who serve aboard the USS Constitution—"Old Ironsides"—will tell you she has never been truly empty either. The world's oldest commissioned warship still afloat carries more than two centuries of history in her oak timbers. She also carries ghosts.

The Constitution was launched from Boston's North End on October 21, 1797, one of six original frigates authorized by the Naval Armament Act signed by President George Washington. Designed by Joshua Humphreys to be the young Navy's capital ships, she was larger, faster, and more heavily armed than standard frigates of the era. Her copper bolts and sheathing were forged by none other than Paul Revere. The 204-foot vessel cost over $300,000, carried more than 50 guns, and required a crew of 450 men.

She saw combat almost immediately—protecting American merchant ships during the Quasi-War with France, serving as Commodore Edward Preble's flagship against the Barbary Pirates, with the peace treaty signed aboard her deck in 1805. But it was the War of 1812 that forged her legend. On August 19, 1812, under Captain Isaac Hull, Constitution engaged the British frigate HMS Guerriere in a "short and sharp engagement" that stunned both nations. American sailors watched in amazement as British cannonballs bounced harmlessly off their ship's 21-inch-thick oak hull. "Huzza! Her sides are made of iron!" one reportedly cried, and the nickname "Old Ironsides" was born. She would defeat four more British warships, prompting the British Admiralty—then the world's foremost naval power—to order their ships never to engage American frigates alone.

At her peak during the War of 1812, over 450 men served aboard in conditions that modern sailors can barely imagine. Men lived, fought, bled, and died on these decks. Marines fell in battle, including Lieutenant William Bush—the first U.S. Marine Corps officer killed in combat, struck down during the Guerriere engagement. Sailors perished from injuries, disease, and the everyday dangers of life at sea.

And some of them, the crew believes, never left.

"We took ghosts so seriously on Constitution," said Petty Officer First Class Pete Robertson, who served aboard from 2001 to 2004. "Unless you were a brand new crewmember, you didn't mess around with that stuff. You didn't make jokes about it. You didn't even try to scare each other because people were terrified—a lot of people were terrified to stand watch on the ship."

The paranormal activity defies easy explanation. Robertson himself watched a 24-pound cannonball roll inexplicably across the deck—left, then right, then back to where it started—while the ship sat perfectly still in the water. "There was no way the ship moves that way," he said. "It was moving in ways a cannonball just shouldn't move."

Former Seaman Allie Thorpe, who served from 2002 to 2005, never saw a ghost but knew she was never alone. "It would feel like there was somebody there with you," she said. "It would feel like somebody was walking up behind you and blowing on your neck."

Apparitions appear with startling specificity. In 1997, a Boy Scout troop spent the night aboard the historic vessel. Before dawn, one scout was awakened by a sailor in period clothing—ragged and dirty—who frantically told the boy it was his turn to pull watch duty and he must hurry topside. The boy complied. When the other scouts awoke at dawn, they realized the uniformed sailor had been a ghost.

Another tale involves a group of tourists who spotted a monkey scampering across the deck—the ghost, some say, of a pet that once belonged to a former captain. In 1955, Lieutenant Commander Allen Brougham claimed to photograph a "19th century navy captain" who appeared and vanished in moments. And there are reports of a mysterious figure playing cards on the lower deck—believed to be the last night watchman, whose position was eliminated in 1963 when alarm systems took over.

The spirits don't confine themselves to the ship. About 100 yards from the Constitution, in an old brick barracks at the Charlestown Navy Yard, each room contains a rocking chair. Thorpe described the phenomenon: "The rocking chair, if you moved it to the middle of the room and left it there and just watched it, it would go from sitting completely still to a full on rock on its own."

In 2015, TAPS—The Atlantic Paranormal Society—investigated the Constitution for the Ghost Hunters episode "Rockets Red Scare." The Navy granted access before a major restoration, and the investigators documented what the crew had been experiencing for years: audio footage of whispering voices, unexplained footsteps, rolling objects, and banging sounds throughout the historic vessel.

Not everyone is convinced. "I've been in all parts of the ship—I've been in the magazines and down in the hold and in the cabins—and I've never felt a presence or heard anything that couldn't be explained by the modern equipment we have aboard or just the natural creaks and groans of the ship," said Margherita Desy of Naval History and Heritage Command.

But those who served aboard know what they experienced. The Constitution carries more than history—she carries her crew, across centuries, still standing watch over the ship they never abandoned. Old Ironsides has been saved from destruction multiple times, most famously by Oliver Wendell Holmes' 1830 poem that rallied public support for her preservation. Perhaps those who served aboard simply refused to let her go. They're still here, rolling cannonballs, breathing on necks, waking scouts for duty, keeping vigil on the oldest commissioned warship in the world.