Catherine's Cross (18 page)

“Yes, sir, it appears to be the cross that Iris Elliott is wearing in her portrait in the Gibbes Museum.”

“Yes, it does.” He placed the book on his desk and then removed another book, one about jewelry from ancient Greek times to the present. He opened the book and turned to a page that showed the works of Aleksi Gregori Kartashkin.

“Look at the way Kartashkin initialed the back of his works. He inscribes a double curl at the base of the beginning of each letter. His unique way of forming his letters has generally kept forgers from attempting to copy his works.”

He closed the book and said, “The Petersburg Cross was stolen from the Elliott home during the Civil War, and is thought to have been taken by Federal occupiers after they invaded our area in 1861. It is well documented that possessions of local residents were confiscated, with many items falling into private hands.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “The Elliott treasures are rumored to have been on a ship that sailed from Beaufort in August 1862 and caught fire, sinking somewhere around St. Helena Sound. The best account of this lies in journals written by a former slave named Andrews.”

“Yes—I found Miss Meta Jane's name in my sister's possessions, and I went to see her. She said my sister had mentioned the cross, and I read Andrews's account of the sinking of a ship named
Defiance
.”

“Miss Ellington, if I were more of an adventurer I might be pursuing the Petersburg Cross myself. I did some research on the Elliott family. After her marriage to David Cotesworth, Iris died in childbirth with her first child—her two brothers were killed in battle in Virginia during the Civil War. Sadly, the Elliott family died out several generations ago.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Yes—terrible shame.” He looked intently into her eyes. “I'd like to show you something.”

Intrigued by his comment, she stepped closer to his desk.

Dr. Ware again reached to a bookshelf and removed an aged journal, then placed it on his desk. He carefully opened the cracked leather binder, which had cursive writing on the pages.

“I purchased this diary from the great-great-granddaughter of a soldier who served in the Federal invasion force that captured Beaufort. I intend to publish a book from the new information recorded in this journal. She didn't realize it was in their possession until they were discarding some old materials from their home.” He paused as he carefully thumbed through the pages.

“Yes, sir, please go on.”

“I've been researching the recordings inside this diary, and unfortunately, time has rendered some of Sergeant William Lasko's writings illegible. I was able to determine one entry where he mentions a boat that was seized from a local planter. This ship was used at one time to ferry cargo between Charleston and Savannah, but the planter who owned it was using the vessel to transfer his own cotton from Beaufort to Charleston. The plantation owner named the ship the
Fort Sumter
and it would make sense that it could have been renamed the
Defiance
. May I read this passage to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“‘5 December, 1861.

“‘Colonel Hubbard ordered us to the Fielding Plantation on the Broad River. There is a sizable ship moored to the wharf at the property. Upon inspection, the ship is fitted with a single screw propeller, but still maintains her sails for long range operations. Colonel Hubbard has ordered the ship confiscated and we are about to get her underway.'”

He stopped speaking and turned the pages. “There is another entry that appears in Lasko's journal:

“‘7 February 1862.

“‘I have been at the wharf at Port Royal this morning to help load a cargo ship bound for New York. I have determined this to be the same ship that was seized at the Fielding Plantation. The
Fort Sumter
has been refitted with guns and renamed USS
Defiance
.'”

Dr. Ware closed the journal and said, “Just think—this information has been hidden in an attic for almost one hundred and fifty years. I suppose it's possible the Elliott possessions may have been on board the
Defiance
when she burned and sank. With the passage of time, finding those treasures could be impossible—even with this documentation. There are just too many variables to affect where the remnants of the ship might rest—tides, ship speed, winds, just to mention a few.”

“You were kind to share this with me.”

“Miss Ellington, there is a matter of importance that I would like to discuss with you. When Alexis Allen phoned me this afternoon from the Beaufort County Library, I was a bit startled.” He closed the journal of William Lasko and continued, “You see, several months ago, your sister, Gigi, came to see me about this very subject. I read her obituary in the
Beaufort Gazette
, and I recall the announcement mentioning she had a sister. I was saddened to learn of her passing. I'm very sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“If you choose to pursue this Elliott treasure, please engage an experienced diver to perform the salvage work. I know your sister drowned in the Beaufort River.”

That evening Seth joined Jenks on her back porch for refreshments. He took off his coat and tie, then rolled up his sleeves and sat down beside her.

Jenks started the conversation. “I went to see Dr. Maxim Ware this afternoon. The librarian told me he is an expert on local history during the Civil War period. He recently purchased a diary from the great-great-granddaughter of a Federal soldier who was stationed here. This is previously undocumented information, and he said that Gigi had come to see him about this subject a few months ago.”

Jenks noticed that Seth was watching her intently.

“What is it?”

He slid closer to her and moved a strand of hair behind her ear. “Your eyes are cat-like; the hazel has turned almost pure green. Jenks, what are you up to?”

“Dr. Ware suggested if I wanted to pursue the Elliott treasure I should hire a professional diver to salvage the
Defiance
.”

“You'd have to find her first.”

“I looked up the specifications for ships during the Civil War period. A number of vessels with a single screw propeller traveled at a speed of about twelve knots.” She rose from her seat and opened up the navigational chart of the waterways in the Beaufort area that she had found on Gigi's bookshelves. “I'm trying to calculate how far the boat should have traveled. I know that there were twenty knots of wind out of the south. In the journal of Joseph Andrews, he stated that the crew that witnessed the sinking of the
Defiance
saw her sails ablaze . . . she had been using sails for part of the voyage, and the tide was going out.”

“I don't see how you can be precise with this.”

“I thought I'd speak to Dave Patterson about helping me.”

“Hold on now, Jenks.” Seth put his arm around her, and she began to feel warmth from his touch, as she always did.

“Baby—this quest of yours could be expensive and you might still come up empty handed.”

“I'd like to try. I think Gigi was looking for the Elliott treasure.”

“And you think looking for the
Defiance
could open up new leads?”

“Yes, I do. And Dave Patterson may be able to help.”

“Dave is a straightforward individual. Go right ahead.”

She was wearing shorts and his hand went down onto her bare thigh. Taking a deep breath, Jenks concentrated on maintaining her composure. “I think it's awfully hot out here. Are you hot?”

“No, I'm fine.”

She rose from the wicker couch and turned on the ceiling fan then sat back down beside him. She was quiet for a moment. “I'm going to see him tomorrow.”

The next morning, Jenks was waiting for Dave Patterson to open the doors to his dive shop. When he came into his showroom, she knocked on the glass front doors and he let her in with a smile on his face.

“Miss Ellington?”

“Yes, Dave.”

“I recognized you immediately. You look just like your sister. I'm real sorry—her passing was a terrible shame.”

“Thank you, Dave.”

“How can I help you, Miss Ellington?”

“I think my sister was searching for the remnants of a ship with treasure that I believe sank off the coast during the Civil War.”

“The waters off the Carolina coast are dark and murky. Visibility at times is near zero. I warned your sister a number of times about diving alone.”

“I believe the ship did exist, and I'd like to bring you in as my partner. I'll pay for your expenses and if we can locate the treasure, we'll split everything fifty-fifty.”

He picked up a diving mask and relocated it to a nearby shelf. “Miss Ellington, I don't mean to discourage you, but that Elliott treasure has been sought by divers for years. If it even exists, it could be buried in several feet of sand and silt. The hobby diving license that your sister held only permitted searching the ocean floor with your hands. To salvage with equipment requires compliance with the South Carolina maritime laws and we'd have to seek authorization. Also, a hobby diver can only collect ten items per day from a shipwreck site in South Carolina waters.”

“What if you find an artifact of significant value?”

“My understanding is that the item becomes the possession of the diver, but regardless of the value, it should be declared to the South Carolina Institute of Archaeology and Anthropology. They're interested in the location of the find and the type of artifact.”

“I see. I'll pay you to go down and look for it. I think I have a reasonable idea where the remnants of the
Defiance
might be located.”

“Miss Ellington—I'll make a deal with you. I'm going to Savannah for the next several days to clean the hulls of commercial ships. When I get back, we'll go out to where you think this Elliott treasure is located, and I'll dive for it.”

“Thank you, Dave,” she beamed.

“Now, don't get too excited. I'll go down a few times, but that's it. I'm not about to take advantage of you.”

She smiled at him and gave him her phone number before departing his shop.

CHAPTER 8
Rabbit Hash

H
eavy thunderstorms came through the area on Saturday afternoon, and as they moved out to sea, the air was left cool and damp. Jenks had been with Seth all afternoon at his home watching old movies. He had invited her to spend the weekend with him and attend a cookout at the Rabbit Hash Hunt Club that evening. Rory planned to join them later at the club.

With Seth's encouragement, Rory had become involved in two support groups, Wounded Warriors and Hidden Wounds. Rory's disposition was improving.

After the rain passed, Jenks and Seth set out on foot for the hunt club. Seth brought a flashlight with him, and they walked the mile or so to the lodge, dodging puddles on the sandy drive.

Jenks breathed in deeply. The air was fragrant with rainwater, and she inhaled the fresh, clean scent. Occasionally, water dropped on their heads from overhead branches, and Seth brushed the rain from Jenks's hair. He put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. His smile warmed her.

When they reached the club, a large group of people had already arrived, and a campfire had been built in the side lot. Seth took her around and introduced her to everyone, and she immediately felt comfortable in this group of people.

A handsome man with a handlebar moustache and chestnut hair exchanged greetings with Seth. Jenks watched as they shook hands, and then Seth gestured for her to join them. She walked to Seth's side, and he took her hand. “Jenks, do you remember the airplane that flew near the Walker's home the first time you had dinner with me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“This is the pilot who was at the controls. I'd like to introduce you to Hale Branson.”

Hale took her hand, kissed it, and then looked into her eyes. “I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Ellington.”