Cape Lookout Bight has long been recognized as one of the finest harbors on the North Carolina coast. According to David Stick, a leading authority on the history of the Outer Banks, Spanish privateers used the bight as a hiding place in the 1740s. When Royal Governor Arthur Dobbs visited the cape in 1755, he described it as `the best, altho small, of any harbor from Boston to Georgia.’ During this period, Cape Lookout was sparsely populated by whalers. Though the largest concentration of these hardy seamen was at Diamond City on Shackleford Banks, many whalers’ camps dotted Cape Lookout’s shores. Several local names for certain sections of the cape were derived from these old camps.
With some small assistance from the North Carolina government, a group of French volunteers constructed a fort on Cape Lookout during the Revolutionary War and named it in honor of John Hancock. Fort Hancock was garrisoned for two years, but not a trace of the old structure remains today.
The first Cape Lookout Lighthouse was authorized in 1804, but due to considerable time spent in needless surveys, it was not lit until 1812. This first light was a double-walled tower. The inner wall was of brick and the outer was covered with wooden shingles and painted with horizontal red and white stripes. Passing sailors complained that the light was not tall enough to be effective, prompting the construction of a second lighthouse in 1857.
During the Civil War, when the immediate coastline was in the hands of Union forces, the Confederates attempted to destroy the lighthouse with dynamite. Neither of the two daring raids was successful, though the light was put out of commission for a short while.
There is a persistent, controversial story that the distinctive black-and-white diamond pattern of the Cape Lookout Lighthouse was a mistake. The story goes that the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was the one that was supposed to bear the diamond design, since it guards Diamond
Shoals. The Cape Lookout Lighthouse was to receive the black-and-white spiral markings that today adorn the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. But the painting contractor was confused as to instructions, and the present patterns were the result. Recently, I have received information that casts this tale in a doubtful light, but it makes for a great story over dinner in the cockpit.
In 1880, the Cape Lookout Lifesaving Station was established. It continued in operation under the Coast Guard until 1982. A United States Weather Bureau station saw service at the cape from 1876 to 1904. In 1912, plans were formulated to make Cape Lookout a major coal port. The North Carolina Railroad was to be extended from Beaufort to the cape, and a rock jetty was planned to lengthen the cape’s western point and give additional protection to the bight. Work was begun on the jetty in 1914, and almost 0.5 nautical mile was completed before the outbreak of World War I caused the project to be abandoned. The rock jetty has done its work well; the sandspit at the cape’s western tip has been extended nearly 1 nautical mile. This sand bank is often called the Power Squadron Spit.
Cape Lookout has had a long history as a harbor of refuge. As you drop your hook in the bight, take a moment to consider those who have plied these waters: the Spanish, the French, pirates, British warships, American privateers, the Lifesaving Service, the Coast Guard, and now you.

Cape Lookout Legend

One of the most chilling sea tales you will ever hear had its origin at Cape Lookout. Unlike many coastal legends, this story is quite true. There are still Beaufort natives who will tell you their grandparents saw the events of that terrible night in January 1886.
It seems that a fine three-masted schooner, the Crissie Wright, was making its way north along the North Carolina coast when bad weather threatened. The captain decided not to brave Diamond Shoals in the deteriorating conditions, so he set course for Cape Lookout Bight. As the ship approached the harbor, the main mast brace parted. The stricken vessel drifted helplessly onto the shoals, where it lay broadside and was broached by every incoming wave. The breakers were much too high to allow the launching of lifeboats, so the captain and
crew took to the rigging. Meanwhile, most of the residents of nearby Diamond City gathered on the banks to watch the ship’s plight. The Diamond City whalers tried repeatedly to launch their small boats, to no avail. The would-be rescuers built a huge bonfire on the beach, hoping some of the crew could swim to shore. It was not to be. As the horrified residents watched, the captain and several crew members were swept overboard.
The night became bitterly cold. To this day, Beaufort natives use the expression `cold as the night the Crissie Wright came ashore.’ The next morning, the waves subsided and the whalers were able to reach the stranded craft. They found four men wrapped in the jib sail. Three
were frozen solid, but one, the ship’s cook, was alive. He died a scant year later, never having recovered from his ordeal.
This is a tale that should remind all cruisers just how fickle the sea can be.