Confederate Gold and Silver (12 page)

Passing the marinas along the river, and the remnants of several old rice and indigo plantations which had lined the river years ago, Paul tried to guess where places were that he knew. Places such as
The
Links
, or the
Caledonia
Golf
and
Fish
Club
, and the beautiful
Brookgreen
Gardens
, all of whom lay between Highway 17 and the river, but the thousands of trees lining the river obstructed his view in many places. He could not find any landmarks he recognized.

Driving the boat slowly and cautiously his first time out with it, Paul had taken almost two hours since leaving the marina to reach the entrance of Winyah Bay. There the brackish water of the Waccamaw River finally meets the waters of the Atlantic Ocean outside of Georgetown. He was somewhat awed by the size of the bay as he guided the small pontoon boat under the huge L.H. Siau bridge, a bridge carrying traffic to and from Myrtle Beach to Georgetown. As his boat entered the main section of the bay, he saw the waves in the bay had increased in size from those on the river. Despite it being a beautiful sunny day, it had gotten somewhat windy down in the bay. Turning his boat around in the bay as he reached navigational buoy number eight, he began to head back up river, deciding he would challenge the waves on another day. Today he was content to just enjoy his first day on the river with his new boat. As he steered the boat back up river, Paul grabbed a cold bottle of water from the cooler and toasted his good fortune.

As he headed back into calmer waters, Paul decided he would try to see if he could take a different route back to the marina. Checking the boat’s gas gauge, he saw he still had enough gas left in the boat in the event he got lost. He knew if he got lost he could turn around and then double back to the marina the same way he had first come. Heading north, he noticed a small peninsula sticking out into the bay. Not having a map of the area, he decided he would steer to the right side of the peninsula to see where this section of the river led him. He was in no hurry as he wanted to enjoy his first boat ride for as long as he possibly could before returning to the marina. Proceeding north, he saw where several other rice and indigo plantations had once sat along the river. Moving up river, he waved to the other boaters who passed by and took in the many different types of birds who made their homes along the river. The pelicans and the egrets he watched kept him amused as they hunted for their next meal.

It took Paul about ninety minutes to get a good distance back up the river. As he began to navigate a bend in the river, he saw a large sandbar extending out into the water. Nearby a large sign was posted on adjacent land which identified the property where the sandbar was located as being the
Sandy
Island
Wildlife
Management
Area
. Needing to stretch his legs, and to make a nature call to relieve himself, he cut the engine to the boat. Slowly he ran the boat up and onto the sandbar’s east side. Jumping onto the sandbar, he tied the boat to a tree limb hanging several feet out over the water.

As he stretched his legs, Paul noticed that no other boats were in the area. He also could not see or hear any hikers walking within the wildlife area. Walking inland a short distance off the river, he wished Donna had been along to enjoy the day with him. He took consolation in knowing many more days like this one would soon come along for them to enjoy themselves together on their boat.

Paul was soon captured by the isolation he quickly felt after being in the woods for only a couple of minutes. As he walked a bit further into the woods, he could not help but wonder if anyone else had ever walked on the same ground he was now walking on as the area seemed to have been untouched by human hands. Walking further inland off the river, he noticed several massive Southern Live Oaks in the woods. Unaccustomed to seeing trees this shape and size; he walked closer to inspect them. He also moved closer to the trees as he had to answer the call of Mother Nature after drinking a large bottle of water. Paul made sure no one was nearby watching as he unzipped his pants amidst the huge Live Oak trees.

As he zipped his pants back up, Paul’s eyes caught something shiny in the base of one of the nearby Live Oak trees. It caught his attention as it reflected the early afternoon rays of the sun. The reflection he saw had been brief and he was about to dismiss it, but then the object reflected the sun again. Now curious, he walked over to the tree to investigate.

Approaching the large Live Oak, clearly the biggest of the six Live Oak trees present, he saw the reflection again. It came from inside the base of the tree. He now also saw the tree had apparently grown with a deformity in its base. At first, he could not tell if the tree had been struck by lighting years ago, or if the tree was starting to die, but either way he saw the base of the tree had a large opening in it. It was an opening which he estimated had to be over three feet wide and almost four feet high. Looking at the size of the opening, Paul first wondered how the tree still stood, but then realized the Live Oak was probably at least sixteen to eighteen feet in its circumference. From its massive size he figured out how the tree still stood. It was simply a huge tree. Like most Southern Live Oaks, it was a beautiful tree to look at.

Looking into the base of the tree through the large opening, Paul saw the tree’s interior was partially filled with small branches, leaves, and strangely, with a medium size rock which was about two feet in height. The rock was easily three feet wide. As he stood there, he wondered how the rock had gotten so far into the tree’s base. “Could the tree have simply grown up around the rock?” It was the first of many questions he would pose to himself. He would have answers to none of them.

His eyes then strained to see what had caused the reflection he had noticed. Kneeling down near the opening in the tree, Paul noticed a long thin piece of metal, partially obscured by a small dead tree branch, leaning against the back of the tree’s interior. “How in heck did a piece of metal get inside this tree?”

Moving closer to the opening so he could reach into the tree to grab the piece of metal he saw, Paul hoped he was not going to be bitten on the hand by a raccoon, or a skunk, or, even worse, by a snake who now called the tree home. Slowly at first, he reached inside the tree and carefully put his right hand around the piece of metal, hoping not to get bit, or to cut himself on the piece of somewhat rusted metal. Clutching the piece of metal, he quickly withdrew his hand from inside the tree, grateful he had not suffered an animal bite during the process. It took Paul a couple of moments to finally realize what it was that he had found. Looking at it, he finally realized it was a long bayonet, rusty in several spots, but still in fair condition. The bayonet had been found with its tip partially stuck in the ground.

As Paul inspected the bayonet, he could not help but wonder how it could have found its way into the base of the tree. “Perhaps kids playing here years ago forgot about it and it got left here?” As his eyes examined the bayonet, they also darted back and forth to the opening in the tree. He then noticed what he had thought were dead tree branches were not branches at all. Reaching back into the opening of the tree, he grabbed the objects and pulled them out from where they had rested on the ground. After he withdrew them, Paul immediately recognized the objects as being human bones. His years as a state trooper had given him many opportunities to see dead bodies and human remains. After examining the bones for several minutes, he knew from their size they were too big to be from any animal that had died there. At first, his discovery caused him to move quickly away from the tree as the bones had caught him totally off guard. Now composing himself, he moved back closer to the tree and to the bones he had found. “What have I just found?” he silently wondered.

Again kneeling in front of the opening in the tree, Paul used his hands to carefully rake out the accumulated leaves, twigs, and small tree branches the wind had blown inside the tree over the years. As he did, his right index finger caught on another object, one which had been obscured from his view by the layers of dead leaves. Using both hands, he reached into the poorly lit tree base and grabbed at the object, pulling it and a large number of dead leaves around it towards him. Finally able to clasp his hands around the object and the leaves, he set them on the ground so he could see what he had found. Clearing the leaves from around what he had found, he was again startled by this new discovery. It was a human skull. “What the hell is this?” It was his only thought as he again moved back away from the tree. His next thought was a logical one for a seasoned state trooper to ask. “And who the hell is this?” Startled by what he found, Paul had not yelled or screamed, but in his somewhat perverse cop humor he did have the thought he was glad he had relieved himself prior to making the discovery of the bones and skull.

Composing himself, he again moved back towards the base of the tree. Doing so, he questioned whether he should continue looking for other items, or whether he should put everything back inside of the tree and call the sheriff’s office to report his findings. “The bayonet is pretty rusty, and the bones and the skull have been here for years. I’ll just keeping picking and see what else I come across; then I will call them if I have to.” Again using his hands, Paul began raking out the remaining leaves, twigs, and small branches from inside of the tree. As he did, he found a couple of smaller bones which looked to be ones animals had chewed on some time ago. Then he found pieces of shredded and decayed cloth, and also found what appeared to be the partial sole of a long ago worn shoe or boot. His experience as a trained investigator caused him to have additional thoughts about his discovery. “If the skull and some of the bones are here, where are the rest of the bones? I wonder if animals have dragged them off?” His eyes briefly scanned the surrounding area for any other remains, but he was too focused on the tree’s opening to pay any real attention to anything else for now.

Now Paul refocused on the medium size rock within the tree. It seemed strange to him a rock that size could have gotten inside the tree’s hollow trunk without it having been intentionally put there. It also did not seem logical to him the tree could have grown up around it. As he started to clean out the leaves and branches which had accumulated around the back of the large rock, his eyes caught something hanging down within the tree just above his head. Fearing it was an animal now trying to escape from within the tree while he was there, he instinctively swiped at the object with his right hand to protect himself. As he did, and fearing an animal was about to fall on top of him, he tried to quickly extract himself from within the tree.

The object Paul had swiped at fell upon him before he could free himself completely from inside the tree. Still on his knees, but almost free from the inside of the tree, he grabbed the object in his left hand and tossed it a few feet away. He prayed he had done so before he could feel a painful bite on his hand from some upset animal. Rolling away from the tree, and realizing at the same time he had not been injured, he looked to see what had fallen on him. As he saw what had fallen upon him, and what now lay only a few feet away on the ground, Paul received the shock of his life.

What Paul had found would be talked about for years to come.

Summer,
1863

6
Instructions.
 

“Our
march
yesterday
was
terribly
severe.
The
sun
was
like
a
furnace,
and
the
dust
thick
and
suffocating.
Many
a
poor
fellow
marched
his
last
day
yesterday.”
Lt.
Col.
Rufus
R.
Dawes,
USA

Captain Francis and the four sergeants of the Army of Northern Virginia finally made their way to Richmond without encountering any Union troops or by being challenged by any Confederate troops. The only troops they had encountered were those posted at the outskirts of the city. The trip had taken a day longer than expected, but it had been an uneventful one to make. Now they were in need of a hot meal and some sleep.

During the ride south to Richmond, Francis had the opportunity to get to know each of the four sergeants better. Besides learning their names, he also learned of their backgrounds and why they had joined the army. Collectively they told him they had done so out of their loyalty to Virginia. Two of the men had also told him they had joined the army to protect their way of life from what they and their families had perceived to be an attempt by the Union to take away the rights of the individual states. He found it interesting that little mention of the slavery issue had been brought up during their talks. From these talks, each of the sergeants began to develop a sense of respect for their new commanding officer. Unlike many of their previous officers they saw he had a respect for their feelings and opinions about the war. While they respectfully kept their distance from him, they did notice Francis was different from the other officers they had served under.

Sgt. Blake Stine was a tobacco farmer from outside of Manassas, as was Sgt. Frank Griffin who hailed from Winchester; both were twenty-two years of age. Sgt. Harrison Charles Davis, better known to his family and friends as ‘H.C.’, was dirt poor, had never received any formal education, and had barely been eking out an existence as a hired hand. He had been barely making a living doing odd jobs at several farms near where he lived along the James River when the war had broken out. Davis had seen an opportunity in the war. The army would give him a chance to do something other than the menial jobs he had been doing. He hoped by joining the army he would get fed on a regular basis and, perhaps most importantly, it would give him an opportunity to fight for Virginia. Like Stine and Griffin, Davis was still a young man, barely twenty-three years old. Sgt. Franklyn Banks was the oldest, at twenty-four years of age, and had seen the most action in the war of the four sergeants. Banks had already been involved in several battles against the Union army and had received high praise from several of his superiors for his bravery on the battlefield. Prior to the war he had been working in his father’s blacksmith shop in Augusta County. When the war had broken out, and despite his father’s early protests, Banks had joined the war to fight the hated Yankees. As he learned parts of their pasts, Francis told them parts of his past as well, but not everything, and certainly not the embarrassing parts about his disgraced grandfather.