Confederate Gold and Silver (19 page)

“Find
out
where
your
enemy
is,
get
at
him
as
soon
as
you
can
and
strike
him
as
hard
as
you
can,
and
keep
moving
on.”
General
Ulysses
S.
Grant,
USA

The following morning Paul again put his boat into the river at the Wacca Wache Landing boat launch that he had used the previous day. As he did, he saw the only other people present were two elderly men who had just put their small aluminum fishing boat into the river. He was pleased no one else was in the area as he did not want anyone asking him why he had a metal detector on his boat that morning.

After he made his way to where he had tied the boat up the previous day on the sand bar, Paul waited around for a few minutes before walking into the woods. He wanted to make sure no one else was around. Collecting his gear, he walked to where he had made his discovery the previous day, stopping only once to again make sure no one was watching him. After reaching the tree where he had found the soldier, he set the metal detector and the portable battery operated spotlight he had purchased at Wal-Mart on the ground. First he checked to make sure the bones and skull had remained as he had left them the previous day. After seeing they had not been moved, he carefully removed them from within the tree and placed them off to the side. After briefly taking the time to sweep away some leaves, and to make sure he had not missed anything the previous day, he went to work.

Grabbing the spotlight, Paul inched his way into the base of the tree so that his back rested on the large rock. In this position he could easily see up into the hollow Live Oak. After finally getting into position, he turned the Brunkman spotlight on. It lit up the interior of the tree so he could easily see the inside of it. The interior of the massive tree was easily almost four feet in diameter in places near the base of the tree. Lying there as he moved the spotlight from side to side within the tree, his first thought was about what he saw inside the tree. “There’s plenty of room in here for someone to hide if they wanted to.” As he continued to inspect the tree’s interior, he could not tell if the cavity had been caused by a deformity when the tree had grown or if it had been damaged by lighting, but he easily noticed the inside of the tree was significant in its size. He also noticed how rough and splintered the interior was. As his eyes scanned the now lit interior, they confirmed what he had been thinking about the tree’s interior. “Perhaps I was right yesterday; perhaps the rope and the clothing had gotten hung up on some of this splintered wood. If they had gotten caught it would explain, at least to some degree it would, why the clothing had remained in decent condition after all of these years.”

Paul’s eyes noticed other pieces of frayed and rotted rope still fastened to the tree’s interior. As he maneuvered his body up higher into the tree, he now looked closer at the frayed rope. “How on earth could someone have done this to make it stay here this long, especially when it’s so dark in here? Could someone really have done this when they were as injured as this soldier apparently was? Remarkable!”

Scanning the rest of the tree’s interior, his eyes only saw pieces of frayed rope and cloth fibers at first, but then, partially hidden by a small piece of frayed cloth, he noticed something else. It was something that was hanging above where the rope had been attached to the tree. Paul started to reach for it, but then stopped. Before he did anything else, he reached into the left front pocket of his denim cargo pants and pulled out his small Sony digital camera. “If I don’t take pictures of what I find, no one will ever believe that I found them inside of this tree.” Slowly moving his right arm above his shoulders, he took several pictures of the rope and cloth fibers still hanging from the tree’s interior. Somewhat blindly, he then took three additional pictures of the object hanging above his head. With that done, he now tried to get his right arm extended high enough to reach the object. At this point inside the tree the space diminished in size, but after two failed attempts to grab the object he finally succeeded.

Even before his eyes could tell him what the object was, his hand told him it now held a pocket watch. Slowly he crawled out of the tree to examine what he had just found. Sitting on the ground, Paul saw he had found a gold pocket watch. It had been suspended in place within the tree by the chain still affixed to it. A quick look at the watch showed it was still in relatively good condition, despite the number of years it had apparently been hanging in the tree. Examining the watch closer, he could see moisture had rusted shut the hinge. The rust now prevented him from being able to open it. His fingers, as they wiped away some of the grime, also told him the watch had some type of small engraving on its exterior. Not wanting to damage the watch, he made no further attempt to clean all of the grime off of it. As he continued to examine the watch, he knew the soldier had put it there, but wondered why he had. “Was this put there so he knew what time it was? Was he supposed to meet someone at a particular time? Was it put there for sentimental reasons because he knew he was dying from his bullet wound? Will I ever know why it was hanging there?” He could only guess at what the answers to his questions were.

Setting the watch on the ground, and after placing the skull and other bones around it, Paul took a few additional photos for documentation purposes. After he finished taking his photos, he took his handkerchief out from the right rear pocket of his pants and carefully wrapped the watch inside of it. He placed the watch into the right front pocket of his pants for safekeeping.

Picking up the White’s metal detector he had rented from a local pawn shop in Murrells Inlet, Paul threw a quarter down on the ground to make sure the metal detector was sensitive enough to detect the coin. His only other experience with a metal detector had been using a friend’s while looking for coins on the beach years ago. He chuckled to himself that he was again using one for the same reason, but now he was searching for coins far more valuable than the dimes and nickels he had found on the beach. After he had made sure the metal detector was functioning properly, he slowly swept it over the ground hoping the area around the tree would give up additional treasures that his eyes had not detected. As he swept the ground near the base of the tree, adjacent to where the rock had sat, the metal detector chirped, indicating he had found something. Another pass over the same spot had the same result, another chirp. As he looked at the metal detector’s electronic display screen to see what had registered, the screen indicated the presence of a coin buried roughly three inches under the surface. Kneeling down, he first used his hands to move away some of the fallen leaves. Then carefully using a small gardening trowel he had brought with him, he scraped away the accumulated layers of sand, soil, and mulch which years of fallen leaves had left. Carefully scraping away the soft soil, he found the first coin. Soon he found four others. All were identical to the ones he had found yesterday, except two of the coins had been minted in 1862. “Are there more? Could these have been in the left front pocket of the blouse I found yesterday and they fell out when the pocket’s seam finally gave way?” He was again asking himself questions that he had no answers for.

Moving the rock out from inside the base of the tree, in the event something had been hidden under it by the Confederate soldier, Paul swept the metal detector over the area where it had sat. The metal detector gave no indication of anything metallic being hidden there. For one reason, he then placed the rock back within the base of the tree. As he did, he continued to ponder questions he simply had no answers for. “If he did place this rock here so he could hide up in the tree, who was this soldier hiding from and who was chasing him? Could it really have been Union soldiers?”

Already calculating what he needed to do, he then placed several items, including one gold coin, back into the base of the tree. From his previous career, Paul knew crime scenes were often staged to fool the police; now he staged the scene within the base of the tree for the same reason. Knowing he was going to call the authorities regarding this find, he knew the discovery of a gold coin amongst the items he had placed there would make the scene more likely to be considered real and untouched by the detectives handling the investigation. While he was confident the likelihood of anyone asking him any really hard questions was pretty remote, he still took his time to carefully stage the scene to minimize any questions being asked of him.

For now, Paul decided he would keep the watch, the coins, and the items he had discovered yesterday, as his instincts told him there was more to this story. Until he had the answers to his questions, he could justify keeping what he had found. At least to himself he could. How he would later explain to the authorities why he had kept them was another matter he did not have an answer for as of yet.

******

Several years earlier Paul had attended a law enforcement management session at the FBI National Academy in Quantico, Virginia. Held four times a year, these sessions teach law enforcement executives management skills they might not learn elsewhere. One of the benefits in attending one of these sessions is it allows attendees to establish working relationships with other cops from across the country and from across the world. However, like many others, after being at the National Academy for just a couple of weeks, Paul had quickly realized the NA had actually stood for
‘Never
Again’
as the time spent away from family and work was a true hardship to endure. Even the massive quantities of beer consumed nightly in
The
Board
Room
Bar
did little to make his time away from home bearable. But like the others in the 183
rd
Session, he also made several good contacts and one especially good friend. Bobby Ray Jenkins had been in law enforcement for almost twenty-eight years and now was a captain with the Georgetown County Sheriff’s Department, serving as the commander of the department’s Major Case Squad. Like Paul, he had also been promoted twice since they had graduated from the National Academy.

Over the years since they had attended the NA together, they had become the best of friends and so had their wives. They all had become as close as friends can be. Their families had visited each other’s homes, they had vacationed together, and they had shared far too many beers and bourbons together. Perhaps when Paul’s soldier had been alive a Northern boy and a Southern boy may not have stood much of a chance at becoming such good friends, but times were different now.

Bobby Ray had just left a monthly regional law enforcement meeting in Little River, South Carolina, when his cell phone rang. Picking up the phone, he saw the phone number displayed and immediately recognized who was calling him. “Y’all better not be telling me that you ain’t coming to dinner on Friday night. Sue Ann and I been looking forward to seeing y’all, especially your lovely wife!” Paul could not help but laugh at how his friend had answered the phone, but then he knew Bobby Ray was different than most people.

“Nope, we’re still coming. Would not miss it for the world! How are you and my girlfriend both doing?”

Laughing at Paul’s joke, Bobby Ray followed up with a sarcastic comment of his own. “OK, whatcha bothering me for then?” After hearing Paul laugh, Bobby Ray told him where he was. “I’m southbound on Highway 17, just leaving Little River. I’m headed back to my office as we speak. Where y’all at?”

“Bobby Ray, I’m down near the Inlet. I need some help. Can you meet me down here?”

“Sure, you bet I can. Paul, you OK?” Bobby Ray could sense some anxiety in his friend’s voice.

“Yeah, thanks, I’m fine. But you are not gonna believe what I have found. I don’t want to talk about this on the phone though. Meet me at the boat launch at Wacca Wache Landing, OK?”

“Be there in less than thirty-five, that quick enough?”

“Sounds perfect, it will give me just enough time to get back there. See you then.”

Bobby Ray disconnected the call as he entered the southbound on-ramp for Highway 31 towards Georgetown. He was confused about the tone in his friend’s voice and wondered what was so important for Paul to call him about. Entering the highway’s southbound lanes, he punched the accelerator down on his black Dodge Charger and quickly had it up to 95 mph. Bobby Ray did not do anything in life slow, especially when a friend called and needed some help.

******

Paul had just finished tying up his boat to the dock when he saw Bobby Ray drive into the marina’s parking lot. “Hey, Johnny Reb, over here!” Paul waved to him as he climbed out of his unmarked police car. As Paul had an interest in the Civil War, so did Bobby Ray, and they had spent many hours talking about whose side had been right and whose had been wrong. Despite their differences, they both shared an appreciation for those who had served in the
War
of
Northern
Aggression
. That had been a term Bobby Ray, and many other Southerners, like their mutual friend Roy Harris, had often referred to the war as. Paul never had argued with them on that point.

Carrying his assigned Motorola portable radio, Bobby Ray walked the short distance from the parking lot to Paul’s boat. He playfully smirked as he stood on the dock staring at his friend’s boat for a few seconds. Bobby Ray was someone who could never pass up an opportunity to jab someone; this time it was his buddy’s turn. “Partner, forgive me for asking, but that thing y’all got tied up there to the dock, does that piece of junk float?” Paul laughed as he nodded back at him. He had learned over the years on most occasions Bobby Ray always started their conversations with an insult. When he had not, Paul knew he was mad at someone or something.