Читать книгу Topsail Island - Paul Boardman - Страница 5

Fresh drinks in hand, Langdon waited expectantly for Cynthia to continue her tale. A couple of hours ago he had been bored stiff. Then he had considered making a fast getaway from an older woman in distress. Now he was firmly committed to making sure she got home safely and freely admitted to himself that he was totally enthralled with this unusual story teller. It amazed him that things could change so quickly in the course of a few hours. Cynthia sat comfortably in her chair but leaned forward slightly as she continued her yarn.

“Topsail Island,” she waved her hand at the closest landmass, “at the time of Blackbeard, was covered with tall pines inside the dunes that lined the outer shore. The island earned its name from merchant ships whom had fallen prey to pirates. The pirates used to swoop out from behind the island as the merchant ships passed. Eventually the merchants learned to look over the tops of the trees in search of high masts with topsails already set. It was a sure sign of an impending attack. The merchants, thus warned, could pull further off-shore. If they were lucky, they had a reasonable chance of out running their attackers. That’s how the island got its name. To be clear about this, no one has ever confirmed that Blackbeard set foot on Topsail Island but being so close to Beaufort Inlet, logic dictates that it would have been a natural choice. Aside from pirates, the lonely, uninhabited island was used only occasionally by Indians who went there to fish and dig for clams. Perhaps by Blackbeard’s time, a few local fishermen visited there in the summer. Regardless, it was a lonely spot and it’s not surprisingly the twenty-five mile long island became a focal point for legends of buried treasure.”

Those two words confirmed Langdon’s predictions. He felt his heart beat just a little faster but did not realize that his fingers were tightening on the arm of the deck chair. Cynthia, however, was well aware of the effect her story was having on him and smiled smugly to herself.

“Sometime in the mid 1930’s a man by the name of Julian S Jacobs came to Topsail Island for what was supposed to be a holiday. The island was still nothing more than an outpost for fishermen but less friendly than in Blackbeard’s time because by then, most of the tall pines had been felled for timber and the island was covered with nothing more than scrub brush and tree stumps. There were no bridges back then and the only access to the island was by boat. All-in-all, it was a barren and desolate place.

”The boat dropped Jacobs off and unloaded a large wooden crate that he had brought with him. The crew noted that it was not at all like the usual fishing or clamming gear that most people would visit the island with. Jacob first established a small camp, then, instead of fishing he combed the beaches dragging behind him a very strange machine that he had extracted from the crate. Jacobs, you see, was a successful mining engineer and owner of The Carolina Exploration Co. He was no wannabe, either. Originally from New York, he owned and operated a number of successful mines and was well connected, both politically and financially.

“All this led to the question “What was he doing on Topsail Island?” It was just a ragged piece of sand, certainly no place for a holiday. Nevertheless, there he was.

“The instrument he carried was some sort of a metal detector about which little is known. Some people called it a “diviner” and it must have been some sort of sonar or Geiger counter. Jacobs had apparently used the machine before while prospecting for his mines and since he had a good track record in that field, who could argue with his methods. Apparently he decided to try it out on the beach, hoping he would discover a pirate’s treasure chest. Following his brief stay on the island, Jacobs, returned to New York and began to tell a selected few the results of his visit to this island wasteland. He first met with Dr. William Walker, brother to Jimmy Walker, the famous mayor of New York. Walker owned the scientific rights to the machine. He and Dr. Walker, apparently convinced a number of wealthy individuals, including Harrison Gunnings of Brooklyn and Louis Hepp, to back a venture to excavate a shipwreck that Jacobs claimed to have discovered with his divining machine. The machine, he said, confirmed that the wreck was laden with gold and silver, sunken in the sand on the beach at Topsail Island. No part of the wreck was visible and the purported wreck was never named.

“The concept was not without merit. The coastline between Cape Fear and Cape Lookout has been the final resting spot of countless ships. There are hundreds of known wrecks here and there is plenty of documentation to support claims of sunken treasure. Amongst those claims is the well documented story of the sinking of four out of five Spanish ships in August of 1750. The five ships made up a Spanish flotilla that left Havana en route to Spain, carrying gold and silver from Mexico. The Spaniards were meticulous record keepers and the treasure was carefully documented in the manifest. All five ships ran aground along the Carolina coast during a mid-August hurricane. One of the ships, however, was able to free itself and survive. The rest of the flotilla sank.

“Jacobs claimed he had discovered a ship, buried in forty feet of sand, thirty or thirty five feet below sea level. He claimed to be able to determine both the bow and the stern of the vessel, the contents of gold and silver and masses of iron which were probably the anchor, its heavy chain and the cannons. Although excavating it would be a mammoth task, if he could bring up the treasure, the rewards would be phenomenal. I suppose it is fair to say that following the crash of 29, there were wealthy individuals who were looking for alternative places to invest their capital rather than a flakey stock market that few trusted. The lure of sunken treasure has motivated countless expeditions around the world so there was nothing particularly unique in this proposal.

“A company was formed and salvage rights were secured by Edward J Ives, a salvage expert from Connecticut. Between 1937 and 1941 a rough camp was built, a steam shovel was brought in by barge and the land was cleared. The site required significant advance work because it was covered with tree stumps, the remnants of hundred and fifty year old pine trees that had been harvested. This was taken as a sign that the wreck must be at least three hundred years old to account for the sand dune that had built up covering the wreck and then the growth of the trees on top of it. After digging only a few feet, the crew hit water. A cofferdam was built and a shaft sunk about twenty five feet deep. Apparently a piece of hand-crafted wood floated to the surface and was considered to be proof of a shipwreck below.

“Remember, at the time, all this took place on a desolate beach, on an island that had few to zero permanent residents. Just getting to the site was a chore. All supplies and materials had to be shipped in by barge. The only previous inhabitants were Indians, fishermen … and pirates.

“The work continued for a few years and employed a number of locals from the mainland. The workers were well satisfied to have any job while the country suffered so badly. It didn’t matter to them that they were digging a deep hole inside a coffer dam. It was work and the men were paid on a regular basis. In 39, the local newspaper in Wilmington wrote a story about the excavation. It was filled with ample talk about sunken treasure that captured the imagination of its readers. The paper showed pictures of the cofferdam and interviewed Jacobs who was optimistic about the venture.

“Blackbeard did not fit into the newspaper story immediately, but like any legend, the story evolved with time. Today, most people think of the project as the search for Blackbeard’s treasure.

“Then, in 1941, without warning, despite having spent between fifteen and twenty thousand dollars by local estimates, a small fortune at the time, the workers were paid in full and laid off. The next morning the site was vacant, the bosses having vanished over night.

There were three versions as to what had happened. The first was that the expedition had run out of either money or willpower and had simply given up. The second version claimed that the expedition found the treasure and the bosses brought it up to the surface themselves, then made off with their booty in the night. The third version, perhaps the most popular one, was that a good deal of investment capital still remained unspent and the partners scooped the cash and ran. Remember, this was 1941. The war in Europe had been going on for two years and Americans were heavily involved. After Pearl Harbor, I doubt that anyone would have given a passing thought to an abandoned treasure hunt, on a desolate island in North Carolina.”

Cynthia leaned back in her chair and her hand reached out lazily for her drink that was now the same temperature as the air.

Langdon was perplexed. The story ended so abruptly. What possible connection could it have to an old woman running out of gas in her boat, seventy years later. He searched Cynthia’s face looking for a clue. He was beginning to wonder if she was a few cards short of a full deck. She was simply staring across the open sea, obviously lost in her own private thoughts. After a few moments he decided on a direct approach but out of respect he tried to be as gentle as possible.

“Cynthia, the second part of the story was fascinating but I’m at a loss. What does this have to do with you being out here today? You said something had frightened you?”

It took a few seconds but Cynthia’s eyes finally cleared and she looked directly at Langdon.

“I’m sorry ….. I just had a strange feeling as if I was sitting here, talking with my husband. I told you he died recently.”

“Yes. You said that.” Langdon was now seriously questioning Cynthia’s stability but after a brief pause she continued dreamily.

“The Gold Hole, that’s what they called the excavation. It was always such a large part of our lives. Oh not in any real sense, of course. It was like holding onto a lottery ticket for months before you got around to checking the numbers. As long as you kept that unverified ticket, you had hope. We never really believed in the Gold Hole but somehow it was always there to buoy up our spirits when things got tough. We never even cut the grass around it, but it was there.”

Langdon thought he was losing her again but Cynthia made a swift recovery.

“I guess I never told you that I own the Gold Hole, did I?”

Langdon’s face remained rigid. He had been in enough tricky situations and played enough poker that he was confident his chin didn’t drop.

“No. You didn’t mention that.” Langdon took a moment to regroup. “I’m still at a loss. What frightened you that caused you to rush out the inlet in a boat with empty gas tanks?”

“Oh it was probably nothing. Nothing at all. I heard a crash outside but it could have just been a dump truck. There is a lot of construction going on. I probably should sell the house … and the Gold Hole.” Cynthia smiled. “I already said I should sell the boat. You can vouch for that. It’s sometimes a bit overwhelming since Bob died. I certainly wouldn’t be the only widow in the new condos they are building, would I?”

“Is that what you plan to do, sell your home and move into a condo?” asked Langdon.

“Not really … but it might make sense. Bob wanted me to be secure, so before he died he sold off the acreage we had to a handsome young developer from Florida. We got a fair price and I certainly have enough to live in the house for the rest of my life. The young man is working hard building the roads for a subdivision but the bottom has fallen out of the economy and I’m sure that has him troubled. There have been a couple of accidents on the property. It just makes me jumpy sometimes. I heard a crash today and panicked.”

“Do you think this young developer is trying to scare you off? asked Langdon.

“Wendell? No! Of course not! He’s a very nice young man. Bob liked him from the start. I think that’s why he sold the property to him and not to someone else.”

“You said you owned the Gold Hole. Didn’t this Wendell buy it?”

“Oh no! We kept the house and a bit of land that includes the Gold Hole. I really don’t think Wendell wants it. The way the land is shaped, it wouldn’t do him any good unless he bought the house too. Wendell wanted raw land for development. The house is on the beach and it is too valuable to buy it to just tear it down to build something new.”

“What about these accidents? What happened?”

“The first accident happened a hundred yards from the house. A construction shack blew up. There was a propane tank beside it. The sheriff thought the fire was started by a propane fridge inside the shack. The shack caught fire and then the tank exploded. It sure rattled my windows but there was no serious damage to my home. But I can tell you, Langdon, I never realized I could jump so high when I was lying flat on my back, sound asleep, in the middle of the night!”

“An explosion would frighten anyone,” said Langdon. “You said there were a few incidents. What else happened?”

“One other night a backhoe started zooming toward the house, totally out of control. It hit a sand dune and rolled over long before it reached the house. The sheriff found a whole bunch of shoeprints in the sand where the backhoe had been parked. It looked like some teenagers had started it up and jumped out when they realized they didn’t know how to drive it. Kids, huh.”

There was something about these stories that Langdon wasn’t buying into but whatever it was, it was just a hunch. There was nothing to corroborate the feeling that he had. Cynthia offered another pitcher of Margaritas but Langdon asked for a soft drink instead. He decided he didn’t want to tackle the narrow inlet in Cynthia’s forty-footer unless he was good and sober. Cynthia seemed a bit disappointed but came back from the galley with two cans of Sprite and two glasses full of ice.

“At least the generator is working well.” She smiled as she handed the glass and a can to Langdon but her hand shook and her voice sounded nervous. There was a large crack in the composure she had shown while telling her story about Blackbeard and the Gold Hole.

Bravely, she hoisted a glass and proposed a toast.

“Triple A to the rescue!”

Langdon laughed. Cynthia was troubled but she was still trying to act normally.

“If you had given me one more drink it would have required AA to the rescue, instead.”