The Writers Voice
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The Women on Whitehead Street
by
Bob Chassanoff
Chapter 4
After breakfast Jason told them they were all going back to
Key West. "I just got here," Sarah said in her long Alabama
drawl.
"Jase, we haven't even buried Penelope yet," Addie said adamantly.
Jason started to tell her to forget about the horse, then decided to hold his
tongue. It had been thirty-six hours and the
carcass would be ripe and bloated in this climate.
"Addie darling," Harry said. "We have to get back to Key West, and there's
nothing to be done for Penelope. Here, bring your
guitar. Will you sing for me, lassie? You know what a sweet voice you have and
how you can soothe the heart of a savage
beast," and Harry glanced very obviously at Jason. Jason smiled, seeing Harry
was still an old German fox.
"We have enough of those around here," Sarah said sourly.
Addie was embarrassed. Her chin went down and bumped against where her collar
bones met. Her long hair fell around her head.
Then she looked up with tearful eyes. "All right, let's get going. There's
nothing to be done for poor Penelope." They set
Ulysses free. Harry said the house's cistern would provide enough sweet water
for the horse until he could arrange
transportation for the stallion to Key West.
Harry and Jason walked behind Addie and Sarah along the trail to the anchorage.
Jason thought they were an interesting
contrast. The women were both wearing white sailor's ducks and roomy, white
cotton pullovers. Addie was tall and slender
with lots of curly dark hair; Sarah was shorter with straight blond hair and a
fuller figure.
"How did they get to be friends when you got here? You were a carpetbagger
weren't you?" Jason spoke plainly when he talked
to Harry.
"Yes and no. I bought Big Pine Key for next to nothing but all the locals knew I
was a fool-that the island was worthless-so
there was not much resentment against us. Except for one of the girls in Addie's
school class that year, she was a real
fireater from Richmond, punched Addie in the nose, and called her a 'dirty
Yankee bitch'. Do you want to know how Addie
reacted?" Harry was full of pride.
"What did she do?"
"Addie went and lay down in the middle of Duval Street and stopped traffic. She
said she wouldn't get up until the people of
Key West accepted her as one of their own, or they could just run her over.
Well, they accepted her and now she's their
little darling," he said with pride. "Sarah was the first."
"Sarah's family is in Mobile. How come she has spent so much time in Key West
over the last decade?"
"Her mother passed away and her father remarried. Apparently Sarah feels more
comfortable living with Salina Samuels, her
mother's sister," Harry explained.
When they were aboard the Pegasus Harry hoisted the mainsail and Addie worked
the tiller. They moved out of the cove and
Harry set the jib.
Addie strummed her guitar and pointed at Jason. "You start us off, Jase. We're
just a bunch of salty island warts compared
to you," Addie challenged.
"All the world is sad and weary everywhere I roam," Jason sang. Addie knew the
chords and they went through Suwannee River.
Next came She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. "She wore it for her lover who was in the
cavalry." Addie smiled at Jason as she sang
out in a high sweet voice.
They made a good quartet. The girls were sopranos, Jason played a passable
tenor, and Harry filled the baritone slot.
Later Jason asked, "Who settled Key West?"
Sarah, the teacher, had all the answers. "John Simonton bought the island from a
Spaniard in 1822, just after Spain ceded
Florida to the United States. But the navy came here first, before many
settlers."
"Do you know who came here?" Jason asked.
Sarah gave him a quizzical glance. "I just said the United States Navy, silly."
"Sarah, I think Jase wants to know what officers were in charge of the force the
navy sent here," Addie explained gently.
Jason smiled at Sarah, so she would know he wasn't insulted. Actually, Jason
liked delightfully obtuse belles like Sarah
because they were easily predictable.
"Oh, of course. Matthew Perry surveyed Key West in 1822 and David Porter chose
the island as a base during 1824. There were
pirates raiding the commerce in the Caribbean back then."
"There still are a few," Jason commented.
"No. There is just one and I don't think he has long to go," Sarah said, giving
Jason the old up and down, and then she
nodded at Addie. "The government recognized Simonton's ownership in 1828 and he
began to subdivide Key West for settlement."
"What about Indians?" Jason asked.
"The Seminoles were tenacious. During December of 1836 an army major named Dade
led an expedition of over a hundred infantry from Tampa northeast to reinforce
Fort King and was ambushed by Seminoles led by Osceola," Sarah said. "It was a
massacre. After that the Seminoles were attacking whites all along the east
coast of Florida as far north as Saint Augustine. The army campaigned south from
Georgia and from Tampa, but the going was hard."
"Those West Pointers learned to fight by reading about Alexander in Persia and
Caesar in Gaul," Harry stated. "Osceola and
his Seminoles in the Everglades were a different matter; no easy nut to crack
for any regular army."
Jason nodded, thinking Florida, what a worthless piece of real estate to fight
and bleed over.
Sarah went on, "It was quiet, but uneasy, for a couple years; but then in August
1840, the Seminoles struck at Indian
Key-burned out Captain Housman's compound-and murdered Dr. Henry Perrine and
five others."
"Jacob Housman brought on the massacre himself," Addie said. "The year before he
offered to kill or capture every Indian in
Florida for $200 a head. They hated him."
"And certainly a mistake for the Indians. Dr. Perrine was a prominent individual
with friends in high places. The army
hunted them all down after the Indian Key Massacre," Sarah finished.
Pegasus reached Key West just after dark. Addie and Sarah handled the piloting,
while Harry kept silent and Jason followed
his lead. The men spent the night in a rooming house near the Samuels' residence
where Sarah and Addie slept.
The next morning Harry and Jason went to a general store. Jason walked right to
a glass-topped counter and looked down on a mediocre selection of pistols. A gun
rack of rifles and shotguns hung on the wall behind.
"Good morning, sir. How can I help you?" The clerk was a slight man with bright
blue eyes, which darted about trying to
watch Harry, Jason, and several others who were looking over his merchandise.
Jason decided he was the proprietor.
"Let me see that Henry rifle," Jason said. "Harry, do you like the shotgun, the
long, double-barreled twelve gauge?" The
clerk handed over the arms and they examined them. Harry nodded his approval,
and Jason said, "I want this repeater and the shotgun." That just about cleaned
his rack. "Let's see your handguns."
Jason bought two Colt single-action revolvers: one with a six-and-a-half-inch
barrel for outside and one with a five-inch
barrel for inside work. He paid in bank script and had the arms and a crate of
varied ammunition delivered to Tift's Wharf
for the Pegasus.
Then they split up. Harry went to buy provisions, and Jason decided to talk to
Wyatt Scott.
Jason walked along Duval Street and after he passed the office of the Key West
Register, Rob Stevens came out the doorway
and started after him. Jason quickened his pace to give Stevens a little sport.
"Mr. Pike," he called and Jason stopped in front of Maria's Cafe. It was late
enough in the day for lunch, so Jason went
inside and Stevens followed.
"Your usual table?" Jason asked when Stevens caught up, breathing hard, just
inside Maria's front door.
They got seated and ordered steak sandwiches and a carafe of wine. "Are you
going to level with me this time?" Stevens
asked,
twirling his chin hairs nervously."
"You're going to scoop the navy. I'm on my way to see Commander Scott right
now." Jason produced a thin cigar and lit it.
Stevens sat back, away from the smoke.
"Get your note pad out. Jack Carney is one nasty bastard and I'm going to tell
you all about it. He tried to kill Addie!"
Jason said too loud just as Maria was bringing them a bottle of red wine.
"What, who try to kill Addie?" Maria put the tray down and glared at Jason.
"Addie is okay, Maria. Everyone is fine," he said slowly.
And Stevens confirmed Jason's message in comforting, simple Spanish so Maria
went back to the kitchen.
"That's the beginning of another gossip trail right to the Cuban community,"
Stevens said, impatient, obviously anxious for
Jason to deliver the story.
Jason told him how Carney raided Big Pine and stole everything of value. He even
told Stevens how he came to kill Luc
Chevarant, and then took a piece of paper from his pocket. "They left this
pinned to his collar." Jason handed the reporter
the paper with the dead pirate's name printed on it. "I would guess they want to
see his obituary in your publication."
Stevens nodded, examining the small piece of paper. "Chevarant was a career
soldier. He held a high position in Louis
Napoleon's regime, and lost all in 1870, when the Germans won the war with
France."
Jason nodded. "That makes sense."
"Not much remorse, Jason?" Stevens asked.
Jason poured them both some wine and sipped from his glass. The beverage was
fresh and hearty, but unsophisticated-still
sharp. Jason decided it was a vintage appropriate for a warrior. "I wish I'd got
Carney instead."
Stevens worked at his note pad, writing furiously. "But don't you make me sound
like a bloodthirsty vigilante," Jason
specified. "Carney came to Big Pine for Addie. I didn't go chasing him all over
the high seas. That's the navy's job. Isn't
it?"
Maria brought fried, breaded steak with slices of raw onion on Cuban bread.
Jason left his cigar on deposit in the ashtray.
Stevens stopped writing to eat half his sandwich. "Are you
suggesting I should criticize the navy?"
"Yes, I suppose I am. Are they a sacred cow?" Maria's Cuban steak sandwiches
were tasty, but chewy and greasy.
"To some extent they are. But we'd be very happy, if they would add a steam
frigate to the squadron based here. A frigate's
several-hundred-plus crew would help the local economy and probably solve your
problem."
"So, make the piece about the Big Pine attack sound like a plea for help," Jason
suggested. "All Key West needs more naval
presence." Jason noticed the smoke from his cigar was bothering Stevens and
tamped it out.
"Thank you. But, what about treasure?" Stevens asked too casually. He had no
ability at guile or deceit.
"What treasure?" Jason asked, working on the sandwich, knowing he would need
more napkins.
"Interviewing you, I imagine, could be compared to giving a
hammerhead shark a dental exam," Stevens commented.
"I like that," Jason said, smiling. "It's too early in the game to talk about
treasure. Just write that Carney's motive was
revenge." Jason kept eating and glanced at Maria indicating a need for another
napkin. "There is something else. Harry
Gorten and I are going back to Big Pine to continue our study of the island's
development potential. We are leaving in a day
or two," Jason told him.
Stevens wanted to twirl his chin whiskers; he kept reaching for them but his
fingers were too greasy. "I assume you want me
to print that?"
"Yes," Jason said, wondering why Stevens was being so cooperative.
After the sandwiches Maria brought egg custard in a caramel sauce. "I'm going to
need some exercise, if I keep eating like
this," Jason said.
"Somehow I get the impression that obesity is not your problem anymore than it
is mine," Stevens responded.
Jason lit the cigar that had been waiting for him in the ashtray and sat back.
"So, when are you going to do some
editorializing?"
"Oh, I don't know. When are you going to tell me everything?"
"Probably when I want everyone to know everything," Jason said, a little
annoyed.
"You want to use me as a conduit to set a trap for Carney up at Big Pine, but
you won't level with me."
"I'm on the level. I just won't tell you what I don't want all of Key West to
know, at least not yet," Jason added to keep
him on the hook. "Besides, Stevens, you run a newspaper. Being a conduit for
information is how you make a living.
Remember!"
Jason grabbed the check and paid Maria. It was the least he could do. Stevens
thanked Jason and went back to his office not
overjoyed, Jason knew, but certainly with enough truth to write an exciting
story. Jason walked off to talk to the navy.
Wyatt Scott was in his office. Jason was surprised to see he wasn't wearing his
jacket, but his white shirt was perfect. And
Scott didn't sweat either, which seemed impossible in this climate. Jason
wondered if Scott would cast an image in a mirror.
"Sit down, Mr. Pike," Scott invited. "I found out you're the one that burned
General Lee's supply depot at Ashland,
Virginia, in March of 1865. When the locals get wind of your past, there will be
hell to pay. You have no chance of becoming
a popular individual on Key West."
"Popularity! I'm not here to run for mayor. Scott, I got ordered to burn Ashland
by the same government that bought you your
big, fancy desk."
Scott sneered at Jason. "Amusing point, but not relevant to the conversation,"
Scott countered and Jason knew he was right.
Jason decided he was doing a less-than-great job of making friends.
"All right. Let's get relevant. I told you at our last meeting about setting a
trap for Carney. He's looking for the
location of a treasure salvage site Harry Gorten knows about. Carney tried for
us once and I believe he will again. Harry
and I are going back to Big Pine. You stake out that part of the Keys with your
ships and you'll have a good chance at
confronting the Raven.
"I can't leave one of my sloops in a stationary location. We've got trade routes
to patrol. You're lucky Lieutenant Jeffers
was handy when Addie Gorten arrived here. That's the only reason he rescued you
so quickly." Scott stood up as if to pace,
then realized his office was too small.
"Mr. Pike, why did you stay up there alone? Did you really hope to get a chance
to kill Jack Carney and still get away?" He
looked at Jason as if he'd just jumped off a cliff and survived only by the most
major of miracles.
Jason ignored Scott's question, and asked his own. "I killed one of his
officers, a Frenchman called Chevarant. Ever heard
of him?"
"You murdered a pirate!" Scott sat down, and left his mouth open. "An officer?"
"Don't be so concerned. He wasn't a gentleman, at least not when I shot him. If
you won't turn loose one of your precious
ships, then lend me a squad of marines. You can station them at Big Pine Key for
a week or two, can't you?"
"No. I only have one squad for each ship. I suggest if you and Harry Gorten
can't take care of yourselves up at Big Pine,
then don't go back. This is a frontier of its own kind, you know." And, Jason
knew, Scott's naval station was as
under-staffed as most army posts on the western half of the continent.
Scott shuffled some papers to let Jason know the interview was over, and Jason
walked back to Duval Street, wondering why
Commander Scott was so intent on not doing the job he was sent here to do.
Wade Estes crossed the street to join Jason. "Hello. I heard you had some
trouble up at Big Pine," Wade said.
"Not much. That bastard Carney came for us. I killed two of `em and the rest
went swimming back to sea." Jason smiled
confidently at Wade.
"Uh!" Wade was perplexed, not sure, Jason knew, if he was making a joke.
Jason stopped, faced Wade, and grew serious. "Do you know anything about how
these pirates are targeting Harry Gorten and
me? They came close to killing Adrian with a volley of rifle fire; they shot a
horse out from under her. I don't mind a good
fight, but what kind of miscreant shoots at a woman, especially one as lovely as
Addie?"
"Well, word is Harry Gorten knows where Spanish treasure is and doesn't want to
share it with anyone else."
"Share! What the hell are you talking about? You mean pay them off?" Jason
asked.
"Well, it would be the easiest solution. The treasure is supposed to be quite
substantial isn't it?" Wade worked his cigar
around his mouth.
"Not my style, counselor. I'm surprised at you, Wade. You were brave enough on
the Bluebird. Why the sudden change
to an appeasing point of view?"
"We had a plausible plan and surprise on the Bluebird when we confronted Carney.
Now all you have is bad odds."
"I'm a man of means, Wade. Carney can't bluff me. I can meet any raise they
make."
"If you escalate, so will Carney," he said somewhat sadly. And unfortunately,
they had Harry's heavy gold and emerald cross
and 120 pounds of silver to do it with.
"So be it," Jason said stubbornly.
Wade nodded. "That's an unfortunate choice, but have it your own way," he said
and walked off.
Jason went over to the anchorage on the gulf side where Harry was waiting,
sitting on a crate next to livestock pens, and
making up a limerick.
"There once was a hermit named Dave.
He kept a dead whore in his cave.
When asked about the smell,
I'll never tell.
But think of the money I save."
Jason smiled, knowing the Gortens were a talented and artistic clan.
"There she is," Harry said when he noticed Jason. "Big, old, and in need of
plenty of work. John Lowe's wife named her the
Sweet Pea. We'll rename her, but she's the only idle ship in Key West large
enough for our purpose."
Jason stared at the brig. She was listing to port and did not look at all
seaworthy. The Sweet Pea's rigging was hanging
haphazardly and she needed to be scraped and painted.
Jason looked at Harry curiously, wondering at the level of his gullibility. "I
bet a good salesman could sell you Niagara
Falls and tell you just how to move it down here to irrigate your
citrus plantation," Jason said.
Harry laughed. "C'mon, let's go out and take a look." There was a small rowboat
on the beach; and Harry pushed her off, got
in, and shipped the oars. Jason joined him and sat in the stern as Harry rowed
out to the brig.
This anchorage was a circular shaped inlet off the lee side of Key West. The
locals kept their boats here, and any larger
shipping, that was going to stay in Key West for longer than it took to unload
and load cargo, also usually moored here.
When the little rowboat bumped into the brig, Jason grabbed the bow line and
climbed up the outboard rigging, over the
gunnel, onto the deck, and tied off the line.
"What's that odor?" Jason asked when Harry joined him.
"Probably a dead rat," Harry said nonchalantly.
"Oh, you're right. I do recognize that smell, now that you
mention the source."
"Jase," Harry cleared his throat theatrically, so Jason would listen
attentively. "Give this ship a chance. She is certainly
unkept and neglected, but the Sweet Pea is sound and will be seaworthy when
cleaned up and rigged with sail."
Jason nodded. "Show me. How much water is in the hold?"
The hold was dry and the hull timbers showed no sign of rot. In fact, Jason was
surprised to see rusty, iron cross members
horizontal along the waterline and slanting at forty-five degree angles back and
forth, bolted to and reinforcing the hull
timbers. This was composite construction, a combination of the first uses of
iron in bolstering wooden sailing ships. Jason
knew this ship had come from England and had been built in the 1840s. She was
solid, and of a proven design.
The ship was listing because the ballast, consisting of chunks of coral rock,
had shifted to one side. The Sweet Pea was a
hundred and twenty feet in length with a beam of twenty-eight feet. The forward
hold was easily large enough for the steam
engine. Harry and Jason examined the forecastle and the crew's narrow quarters
below. Aft, there was another hold and below
the quarterdeck were a series of cabins. Jason stepped down the companionway to
a small room with a table attached to the
deck in the center of the cabin. "This is the chartroom," Harry announced. There
were three doorways off the chartroom, one
on each side and another to the rear. "These two are tiny cabins with bunk
beds," he indicated the two hatches to port and
starboard. "Aft is the captain's quarters."
Jason entered a wide, but narrow, room with a bank of windows looking out astern
of the ship. There were storage lockers, a
desk, and shelves on the walls.
"All right, I apologize. She does seem fit. But there is one more thing to
check," Jason said, walking back up on deck and
peeling off his shirt and pants. He went for a swim and dove under the brig with
his penknife. The hull was unyielding even
to a thin, sharp blade and Jason tried a dozen different places.
"Well, lets go talk to John Lowe," Jason said, unhappy he had not thought to
bring a towel.
Lowe owned a large, pleasant house on Southard Street and met them outside in
the garden. He was a handsome, tall man and an
excellent sailor. Lowe also proved to be a businessman eager to sell or lease
the Sweet Pea, and their short negotiations
were amiable.
"Sweet Pea is a sister ship to the Vicar of Bray and
built at Whitehaven, England, in 1841. Their plans are on record
at Plymouth and with Lloyds in London. Should be easy for you to
order any custom-made additions from the British shipyards," Lowe
answered Jason's primary question. Jason wanted to replace rusted bracing and
have armor plates cast to mount along the
waterline. He wanted the Sweet Pea's sides strong enough to bounce a six or
nine-pound projectile back into the ocean.
Jason gave Lowe a deposit to hold the brig until the salvage gear arrived. And
Lowe agreed to arrange for a ship's carpenter
and a sailmaker.
After they were done with Lowe, Harry asked, "How did you make out with Scott?"
as they walked along Southard Street toward
Duval.
"I got a negative response from the navy."
"I told you about Wyatt Scott. He wants to be an admiral and the best way to get
promoted is not to take chances."
"Harry, isn't there any local political or commercial pressure on Scott and the
navy to stop Carney?"
"Carney's clever. He doesn't pick on the locals. He likes foreign ships passing
through, and newcomers."
"You mean carpetbaggers like John Rhinehart?"
"And us," Harry said, his head nodding as if he was certain. "Did you know
Carney was a blockade-runner during the war. He
brought a lot of commerce in and out of Key West despite the federal
occupation."
That explained why the locals tolerated him, Jason realized. "Scott wouldn't
even consider giving us a squad of marines. He
says he needs them all on his sloops."
"That's not true. There's a platoon billeted at the east
Martello with nothing to do. Those boys sit around throwing coconuts in the
ocean and shooting at them."
"Who's the officer in charge?" Jason asked.
"The fort is commanded by an army officer. But the marines are under their own
lieutenant, Crawford Wales. He's one of
Addie's old boyfriends. And he answers to Commander Scott."
"Well, lets go have a talk with him. If the marines are willing to participate
on their own, Wyatt Scott, who is ever so
cautious, might figure he'd be off the hook if there was some kind of debacle."
Harry knew where to borrow a wagon and a team and they traveled south along
Duval, until Jason saw Addie. She was carrying a
pad and her case of ink pens for sketching. Cump barked when he saw Harry and
Jason approaching and jumped up onto the
wagon.
Addie was going to the beach but Jason asked, "Wanna come along with us?"
"Sure," she said.
They stopped at the Samuels house, where Salina made the group lunch in a
basket. Harry followed Duval Street to the end.
Then they took the trail that led east between the sea and the railroad. The
railroad connected Fort Zachery Taylor and the
supporting Martello towers. The red brick towers protected the southern coast of
Key West fronting the straits, and the
landward approach to Fort Taylor.
They drove past the West Martello and followed the railroad to the twin brick
fort farther along the shoreline. The
Martellos were triangular-shaped forts with a tower in the center of each
compound. The thick masonry design of the tower
was impregnable to smooth-bore cannon. But with the coming of large-bore, rifled
guns; masonry could be breached by a
dedicated naval bombardment. In short, the Martellos were obsolete before they
were finished.
Addie, Harry, and Jason walked into the heavy structure and Jason, hot and
sweaty, immediately appreciated the cool air and
the dark. A private showed them to a small office where a tall, thin man was
sitting at a little desk illuminated by a
kerosene lamp, and reading. He looked up when he saw Addie in the doorway and
stood with a wide, toothy smile growing across
his mouth.
"Hello, Addie," he said happily.
"Hi, Crawford." She gave him a quick embrace and pecked his cheek. "Let's go
outside. I hate these tiny, cold stone rooms."
Addie waited to introduce Jason until they got back in the sunshine. "Crawford,
this is Jason Pike, Pappy's regimental CO
during the war." She took Jason's arm, so Crawford would know how it was between
them.
"Jase, this is Crawford Wales, Lieutenant, United States Marine Corps." And they
shook hands.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir. Addie has spoken of you quite
often," he said.
"Probably too often," Jason said, and they laughed.
"I apologize for being out of uniform." Crawford was dressed in light, baggy
cottons like the rest of them.
At each embrasure of the fort there was a well-kept Columbiad gun. Jason glanced
up at the citadel that rose massively from
the fort's courtyard and could see the muzzle of a heavy cannon, probably a
Parrot Rifle, pointing out toward the
unpredictable seas. Above the gun the Stars and Stripes flapped about freely and
proudly in the brisk wind coming off the
straits. "Everything seems in order to me, Lieutenant Wales," Jason
complimented.
Crawford Wales was a boyishly handsome man in his late twenties with a bushy
head of black hair that had turned prematurely
gray. He also wore a heavy mustache that engulfed his upper lip, a real soup
strainer. His lean face was tanned, but not
wrinkled and weathered like the locals. Addie had told Jason that Crawford Wales
was from Duluth, Minnesota.
Addie invited Crawford to join them for lunch; and they had a picnic under a
palm tree, just off the beach. The group shared
anchovy and tomato sandwiches and then fresh fruit for dessert, needed to kill
the pungent taste of the fish.
Then Addie went to feed, and sketch seagulls and pelicans. She knew why Jason
and Harry came to talk to Crawford Wales. So
Jason, a man who accepted that patience was not a strong point of his character,
asked Crawford directly to suggest to
Commander Scott that his marines might be of more service to their country, if
they came along to Big Pine Key to shoot
criminals instead of coconuts.
"Commander Scott is my direct superior. He's already said `no' to you. I would
only irritate him by bringing up the matter
again."
So Wales was no fool. They discussed the situation and finally he voiced a basic
question. "Why do you want to go back
there? What does occupying Big Pine have to do with your salvage plans?"
Harry scratched his head. "Crawford has a point. We don't have to protect my
orange trees."
"Why don't you just stay on Key West?" Wales asked.
"It's a question of `will'. I'm pitting myself against Carney. And there are
other considerations that concern you,
Lieutenant. Big Pine is Harry Gorten's private property within territorial
limits claimed by the United States."
"Mr. Pike, you sound like a patriot or, worse, a politician. You people are
dangerous. You can argue, even lie, with a lot
of sincerity," Wales said with an easy smile.
Jason could have taken that as an insult, but he knew Crawford was right. "You
have a point. I appreciate your candor and
your position. I'll work this out another way."
"I have no doubt of that."
Jason thought about his openness and said, "Wyatt Scott is afraid to do
anything. I met Jeffers; he is anxious, but
inexperienced. What about the other two navy lieutenants, Allison and Case?"
Jason was flattering Wales by asking his
opinions. He was also trying to draw him out to learn if he would fight, if
Jason could ever get Wyatt Scott's cooperation.
"Sanford Allison is young, untried. Scott keeps him in the
Atlantic between here and Jacksonville. It's a peaceful route. Andrew Jackson
Case is a veteran; he's no stranger to
gunfire. He'd be your pick if you can get Scott to agree to one of your
pirate-catching schemes," Wales finished.
"Doesn't seem much chance of that," Harry added his two cents.
"We'll see. When can I meet Case?" Jason asked.
"His sloop, the Shenandoah, is due here in about a week,"
Wales answered.
"Good. So you think Andrew Jackson Case might be willing and ready to fight?"
Jason probed.
Crawford looked into Jason's eyes with his own penetrating glance. "I'm
perfectly willing to fight pirates. But I won't
fight with Scott. Andrew Case is no fool either. He won't go up against Scott.
It would be suicidal as far as our careers
go. You'll have to take up the matter with Commander Scott, or you go over his
head. He can't hurt you the same way he can
either of us."
"Jase, come and pose for me," Addie called, and beckoned with a slender arm. She
was providing an easy withdrawal to a
sticky situation Jason had created.
"You're right; I'm sorry. Excuse me, gentlemen."
He walked over and sat down next to Addie. "I'd like to drag you out into the
surf and ravish you," she said mischievously.
"But there are too many witnesses," he finished for her.
"I know," she pouted. "Not having much luck with the marines are you?"
"Nope." Jason shook his head.
"Crawford still likes me. I might be able to bring him around, tease him a bit,"
Addie suggested. She was smiling wide and
her eyes playful.
"Who are you trying to tease, Addie?"
Her lovely eyes went wide and then she looked down at the sand and moved some
around with a long, exquisitely shaped index
finger. "I was just joking. I guess you called my bluff," she
said.
Jason used his own, rather gnarled, index finger to lift Addie's head up, and to
look her in the eyes. "I know. I wouldn't
let you do something like that." Maybe she still had feelings for young Crawford
Wales, he worried.
Jason was concerned for their relationship because Addie's love might be an
infatuation that would fade with time, the time
they were spending together right now. The ten years they had spent apart
allowed Addie to take his memory and expand the
parts of his character she liked, while forgetting the more unpalatable facets
of Jason's nature. Now that her father wasn't
a soldier and they weren't fighting the war anymore Jason couldn't hide under
the umbrella of patriarchal and patriotically
approved violence. The bloodletting that might come in the next few months could
turn her against him. Addie followed
Audubon when she did nature stills. Her bird sketches were tranquil and
accurate; and Jason knew all bird lovers were
intrinsically pacifists.
"They all look alike," he said about the seagull Addie was drawing.
"That's what they think about us," Addie responded. "So, what are you going to
do, Jase?"
Jason reached over and kissed her. "I'm going to plot a new course for the same
port."
That afternoon they went back to town and Jason bought Addie a new dress and
matching shoes. She wouldn't wear the shoes;
they hurt her feet.
Then they went to the port master's office, and Jason posted letters for the
next outgoing ships headed up the Atlantic
coast and across to Great Britain. They would need some help to raise this
treasure and Jason knew a few talented
individuals who might like to spend a pleasant summer season yachting in the
Caribbean.
During the afternoon, while Harry and Jason were discussing salvage strategy and
relaxing, drinking lemonade on the porch of
the Samuels' home, John Asbury, Captain Rhinehart's first mate, stopped by and
invited them out for a walk. So they took
Cump and walked over to the beach.
"It's all over Key West about you being Harry's friend, and everybody is
speculating what you're going to do," he told
Jason. Rob Stevens' story about Carney's visit to Big Pine in the Key West
Register was mostly responsible for Jason's
notoriety.
"I don't care," Jason said. He picked up a coconut and threw it in the water, so
Cump could go for a swim.
"You should. All the rumors are going to get back to Carney. He's got ears all
over Key West. Some people are not so happy
we embarrassed Carney or that you killed Luc Chevarant. And now that you're here
with your money, people that laughed at the
idea of Harry finding a treasure . . . " Asbury turned, and said to Harry, "Are
not so sure that you're crazy."
"I guess I was better off when the locals thought I was just a fool. Who's
talking about us?" Harry asked.
"Most of the crowd at the Lucky Spot," Asbury said.
"The bar on Front Street?" Jason asked.
"Yes."
"Let's go there. I'll buy the beer," Jason offered. "If we are going to have any
trouble with the locals on Key West, I
would like to know it right now."
"We'll attract a lot of attention," Asbury said.
"We'll probably get in trouble," Jason voiced. "But, hell! When I was a kid,
gettin in trouble was the only real fun I ever
had."
They walked along Whitehead toward Front Street, neither of Jason's companions
thinking to remind him he wasn't a kid
anymore. Cump came along wagging his tail happily, as if they actually were
children going for a walk and kicking a can.
`The Lucky Spot Eatery & Drinking Establishment', the sign said, was a seaman's
bar. There were large open windows for
ventilation; no glass to get thrown through if a fight broke out, Jason observed
with some relief. The room was rectangular
with a raw wood bar along the left wall, tables along the right wall all the way
to the rear, where the swinging doors led
to the kitchen. Behind the bar on the wall was a Confederate battle flag, a
saber, and a crude painting of Bobby Lee on his
gray horse. On the other walls hung examples of Key West's first industry: ship
wrecking. There were parts of ships and wood
carvings, pieces of sails, and-in the corner mounted on a shelf-a figurehead:
she had long hair, strong features, and proud
jutting breasts.
From the kitchen, in the rear, Jason could smell fish cooking and bread
baking. "Can we get any oysters here?" he asked.
"Of course," Asbury said. He gave Jason a strange look, because Jason wasn't
supposed to like oysters, usually the fare of
common folk, and Asbury knew Jason was wealthy.
"You can also get in a fight and have a knife stuck in your back," Harry added,
looking around carefully.
Jason smiled. "If I start any trouble, keep an eye on my back."
They got settled at a front table and ordered rum and a platter of raw oysters
with a hot sauce consisting of crushed
Jalapenos, vinegar, and lemon juice. The small, dark-skinned
waiter also brought a loaf of, what the locals called, Bahama
bread still hot from the oven.
Jason noticed the men at the other tables were watching them. They were all
curious about Harry and Jason. John Asbury's
eyes glanced anxiously around the room. Jason knew they were getting too much
attention, just by watching how nervous Asbury
was. "John," he said quietly, "stop looking about and eat an oyster."
A big man with puffy, bulbous features and sparse blond hair came out from the
kitchen and had some words with the bartender
who nodded toward Jason, Harry, and Asbury.
"That's Samson Pool. He owns this place," Asbury said.
"Will he buy us a pitcher of beer?" Jason asked.
Harry laughed. "He hates Yankees and carpetbaggers."
Jason shrugged. "Then I'll buy him a beer." He poked a hole in a new cigar with
a wood match and said, "You there!
proprietor, will you join us for a beer? I'll buy."
Asbury lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if he wore
uncomfortable spectacles. "Mr. Pike, what are you
trying to do?"
"Find out where the locals stand," Jason whispered.
Samson Pool looked at Jason incredulously, as Jason reached behind to another
table and grabbed the back of an empty chair.
He pulled the chair over and flipped it around to their table in one smooth
motion. The big Key Wester nodded and walked
around the bar.
"Bring us a pitcher, Holly," Pool said over his shoulder to the bartender.
Pool tapped Asbury on the shoulder and he moved over to take the new chair Jason
had pulled up next to himself. Pool sat
down opposite Jason, and the bartender brought a pitcher, glasses, and placed a
spittoon on the floor against the wall, at
least three feet from the table. Samson Pool had a big wad in his cheek.
"I'm Jason Pike. Glad to meet you, Mr. Pool," Jason said and waited to see if
Pool would offer his hand but Pool, instead,
used the spittoon. It was to far away to dribble into; he spit a projectile of
tobacco juice right into the spittoon, which
rocked back and forth with the impact. And Pool sipped his beer.
"I know who you are," he said to Jason and nodded at Asbury and Harry. "What do
you want, Pike? I don't do much trade with
rich Yankees." Pool didn't smile.
"You could make an attempt to be friendly. I like these oysters," Jason
complimented, and ate one.
"Samson," Asbury said, "Mr. Pike wanted to meet you. That's why I brought him
here."
"You must have been informed how I feel about carpetbaggers, and you killed John
Saunders and Luc Chevarant," Pool said to
Jason. "I liked the Frenchman, despite his aristocratic bearing. His
great-grandfather was at Yorktown with Lafayette. Did
you know that, Pike?"
"Uh, I was in a gunfight when I met him. I didn't have time to ask." Jason's
great-grandfather was also at Yorktown as an
engineer on Lord Cornwallis' staff. But Jason chose not to mention it.
"What do you want to tell me, Pike?" Pool asked sourly.
"Harry and I are doing a salvage operation for a lost Spanish galleon; and our
business seems to be common knowledge. I was
just wondering if we were going to have any trouble with you or any of your
friends?" Jason asked, smiling, good-naturedly.
Pool spit, and then locked eyes together with Jason as he leaned forward. "I
can't imagine what you're talking about," Pool
said, calm and nasty. He sat back, rolled his head around, and wetted his puffy
lips with his tongue. "Wrecking is an open
industry. Any person or group that finds or recovers anything from the bottom of
the ocean can keep it; providing, of
course, they can hold onto it," he added with a sneer.
"Samson," Harry said, "I've tried to be a good neighbor since I came here, and
most of the folks in Key West like me and
they adore Adrian. Is there something I have done wrong?"
"Yeah! You moved here. Nobody asked you Yankees to come down here. And you think
you can pull a fortune out of our waters
and waltz off. You think we'll let you steal that much wealth from us?"
Jason had to take over because he saw Harry was turning red. In a second he
would be at Pool's throat. "The treasure is
Spanish, stolen from Indians all over Central America over two hundred years
ago. How can you, even remotely, consider it
yours?" Jason asked.
"We've been salvaging wrecks off the Florida Keys since the 1820s."
"And I thought you were just a saloon keeper," Jason said.
Pool ignored the comment. "Harry, your plantation is a complete failure and
Addie is supposed to get married--if the Key
West gossips are as accurate as usual--to this rich Yankee industrialist. So why
don't you just flag this salvage site for
us and go back up north where y'all belong."
"I don't like the cold weather or anybody telling me what to do," Harry said,
his hands turning to tight meaty fists resting
tautly on the table's surface.
John Asbury looked all around and then down at the buttons on his shirt. Jason
decided if his chair had been oiled, Asbury
would have simply slid down out of sight under the table and burrowed through
the floor.
"Samson," Jason said. "Harry and I soldiered together. When I was his captain,
he didn't like me telling him what to do
either."
"Only when you were wrong, Jase," Harry said lightening the mood. Jason smiled
and broke ash from his cigar in the small
metal tray.
Pool tapped his fingers on the table and sipped his beer. "Will you consider
taking in a partner? Charley Dardy has two
ships and could be a great deal of help to you. He knows salvage and he will be
crucial in ferrying supplies from Key West
to Hawk's Channel."
Harry shook his head. "Dardy probably murdered Jacob Ivy. We won't deal with
that black-hearted bastard." And Jason had to
go along with Harry's call.
Pool's expression grew grim as he leaned over sideways to use the
spittoon-another direct shot to the target-and then he
looked up at Jason questioningly.
Jason glanced at Harry who nodded. "We don't need any partners," Jason said.
"But you need enemies? Try and do this treasure salvage by yourselves and you'll
have more adversaries than you can handle.
You two will be overwhelmed with opposition," Pool threatened. "Make no mistake
about us, Pike. We're organized with good
leadership. Carney will come at you. If you consider how many old friends he has
in the Caribbean, he will not be coming
alone."
Well, Jason shook his head, so much for breaking bread together and beating
swords into plows. He glanced at Harry and there
was fire in his eyes. "Do your worst; we're ready." Jason glared at Pool. "Right
now, or whenever you or any of your friends
choose!"
Jason was holding an empty glass tightly in his left hand, his arm laying flat
on the table. Samson looked at him fiercely,
running his tongue around his mouth. There were no guns or knives handy, but
Jason was pretty sure what Samson would do to
provoke a fight and was ready.
When Samson Pool spit tobacco juice across the table at Jason, he swiftly raised
the tumbler and caught the brown spittle
halfway between them. Some even splashed back on Pool's face. Jason righted the
glass and slowly lowered it to the table.
Pool tried to push the table into Jason, but Harry's large, iron hands held the
table steady, as if in a vice. Pool wiped
his face. "Get out of here, both of you," he said softly, trying to hide his
humiliation from the men at the other tables.
"Good day to you, sir. I must say your establishment is somewhat lacking in
hospitality," Jason said.
They walked outside and Harry commented, "The food wasn't very good anyway."
Jason shrugged. "We never got a bill."
"If you go back there, you better take a gun," Asbury said. Jason noticed how
shaken he was from the confrontation.
"If I have to go back to the Lucky Spot, I'll burn it to the
ground," Jason said.
When they got up the block from the bar Jason stopped under a shade tree and
turned to Harry. "Do we have anything to fear
from that big oyster shucker?"
"Not from him and his cronies, but if he allies himself with
Charley Dardy; Dardy has ships." Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"How do you know he killed your Indian buddy?" John Asbury asked.
"Dardy hates Indians," Harry explained.
"But that doesn't make him a murderer, Harry," Asbury said.
"Jacob Ivy told me some things before he got burned up. Nothing conclusive, or I
would have gone to the marshal, Jim Jones.
But he certainly told me enough to make me suspect Dardy. Key West is a small,
close-knit community. There aren't that many
people capable of, or inclined to murder."
Jason looked at Harry critically. "You gave your suspicions away to Pool and now
those thoughts will get back to Dardy. If
he wasn't an enemy before, we certainly have to consider him one now."
John Asbury said he had to get home and left them at the corner of Duval and
Fleming. The retriever followed Asbury down the
street.
"Cump, get back here," Jason called after the silly dog. He followed everyone.
The next day Harry and Jason made ready to sail the Pegasus back to Big Pine
Key. Addie had her arms around Jason as they
stood on the small pier. "This is the second time we've said goodbye and I've
had to worry about you. Why do you have to do
things like this?"
"We will miss the tide if I take the time to explain. I told you I wouldn't
change."
She reached up with her right hand and ran several fingers down Jason's cheek.
"So you did," she said with stoic
resignation. "Hurry back. I don't want to be apart from you for long."
Jason kissed Addie and held her against him. Her hair smelled like fresh flowers
and he kissed the spot under Addie's ear
where the delicate jaw line met her long, soft neck.
Then Harry got impatient and Jason jumped aboard. Cump barked, eager to join
them, but Addie quieted the dog and made him
sit. They both watched as Harry hoisted the sail and Jason pushed them off from
the pier.
Addie waved. "You two old dogs of war be careful. I want you both back in whole
pieces."
"What did she call us?"
"Who knows? She's been reading the classics again," Harry said.
As the Pegasus sailed off, Addie stared after the small ship and worried. Like
during the war, she thought. Addie wiped at a
wet eye. "They fight the wars, but we suffer them," she said softly.
Addie walked back to Duval, which was very dusty from all the morning wagon
traffic and the windy gusts off the straits. She
sneezed and turned left on Front Street. Addie attracted some whistles and jeers
from admiring sailors in this part of town,
but the atmosphere changed when she reached Simonton Street. First there were
warehouses, then public buildings, and
finally, a church. Then the neighborhood became residential with frame houses
and palm trees. Young children played in the
yards and the palms ruffled above, the bright sun breaking through where it
could.
Addie's sad mood had changed, so she went across the street at the corner with
Fleming to the new Sears public school, where
she saw Laura Gentry with her class. The youngsters were sitting on the ground
under a tree and Laura was reading to them.
Addie waited patiently off to the side until the teacher finished the passage
and one of the polite girls in the first row
pointed to Addie.
Laura assigned the class a few pages to read by themselves and walked over to
greet Addie. Laura Gentry was another tall
lanky woman like Addie, but she had ruddy skin with freckles and reddishy orange
hair that seemed to just go everywhere. And
she wore a very wide-brimmed straw hat against the sun. "How are you? I haven't
seen you in weeks. Is it true what Sarah
said? You're getting married? To the Yankee?"
"I said `yes'," Addie admitted.
"And he's rich?"
"Stop that," Addie chided. "That's the problem. I don't know if I can be
comfortable in his world. It's all going to be so
strange."
Laura laughed heartily, enough so her class heard and looked up from their
reading. The ladies walked a little farther away
to another palm tree. The class went back to their lesson.
"Don't worry about learning to be wealthy, Addie. You're smart enough to grow
into it gradually," Laura advised. "Do you
think he really loves you?"
Addie smiled spontaneously, lusty joy clearly displayed on her guileless face
and in her sparkling eyes. And Laura broke
into another deep laugh; this one made her bend over at the waist. The kids
looked up again, this time curiosity all over
their clever, young faces. Laura recovered her composure and gave them a stern
glance and they quickly went back to their
books.
At the same time, Addie looked toward the school and spotted a bald head with
whiskers at a window, watching them. "Well,
now I know you love him, but does . . ."
"Laura, the principal is observing us," Addie warned.
"I've gotta go. See ya later." She walked back to the class. "Oh! Cousin Melanie
is coming to visit," Laura said over her
shoulder. Addie smiled and continued her walk down Simonton to the Samuels
house. She reached up and caressed the side of
her nose, just where she had endured an indignity ten years before. Then she
flexed her right hand and made a fist,
tightening her grip until her nails gouged into her palm. So, Mel was coming to
visit. Addie smiled again. She decided the
day was getting better as it grew older.
Jason and Harry tacked east all day. Harry was certainly not a proficient
sailor, but he knew the waters; and the Pegasus
was an easy ship to handle. "She's got a very heavy keel," he comforted Jason.
"Even I couldn't capsize her!"
Jason lit a thin cheroot, savoring the fresh tobacco and the safe passage Harry
promised.
When they arrived on the island Harry pitched a tent just inside the trees,
close to the shore to keep an eye on the
anchorage. Jason and Harry waited four days for the pirates to come, but they
never did. Finally Jason got bored, so they
went back to Key West.
After their camping trip to Big Pine Key Jason rented a large four-bedroom house
on the corner of Whitehead and Southard
Streets near the naval base. Both Harry and Addie were impressed by the
spaciousness of their new residence. They'd brought
back all of Addie's water colors and oils and hung them in the rented mansion.
The first floor was taken up by public rooms:
living room, dining room, and a library; and the cook shed was out back.
Everyone got their own bedroom on the second floor.
Jason's room was next to Addie's and he considered cutting a connecting door.
"This is too extravagant, Jase," Addie said.
"It's more than we need right now, but I have good reason for wanting a large
house," he explained. Jason also bought a
wagon and a team for transportation.
There was a fenced yard and Harry bought livestock. Jason had been the son of a
farmer once, but his years of soldiering,
law enforcement, and especially the last eighteen months as a
munitions robber baron had left him devoid of the satisfaction
Harry and Addie took in tending the animals. Addie looked like a
shepherd and had a calm, easy manner even the most fidgety
critters came to trust. Harry acted like a farmer, but Jason couldn't change the
image he had of Harry as the tough-as-nails
sergeant major during the war. He looked silly collecting eggs from
under a chicken's backside.
One morning, after they were settled into the new house, Jason read the Key West
Register until Addie and Harry finished
their chores. Then Jason placed their weapons in the back of the wagon.
Jason, Harry, and Addie traveled south and then east along the shore past the
Martellos until Addie finally asked, "Where
are we going? There's nothing out here. You can shoot anywhere."
"I want to take a look around," Jason answered. The track was bumpy, and they
went another mile and a half. "What's that
shack up there just off the beach?" he asked.
"That's Harriet Arbuckle's house. She died two years ago. No one bought it; no
one wants to live here. No one even comes out
here, so what are we doing here? You old soldier boys could have shot coconuts
with the marines," Addie said sarcastically,
as she was rubbing her backside.
"I like to go exploring. Maybe Harriet left a treasure map hidden under her
floorboards." Jason smiled at Harry and glanced
at his pocketwatch. It was a quarter to eleven and another warm, bright
cloudless day.
After Harry set up targets along the shoreline, Jason worked with the
long-barreled Colt revolver and Harry sought the
spread pattern of the shotgun at varying distances. After a quarter hour Jason
abruptly excused himself and Harry commented,
"Sometimes Addie's lobster omelettes go right through you."
"Pappy!" she yelled and punched Harry in the arm, hurting her hand a bit.
Jason walked around the little house and into the woods. Darcy Lamont's note had
reached him the night before and specified
eleven, and inland from the Arbuckle house for a meeting. Jason found her
waiting in a small clearing. Darcy was standing,
holding the reins of a very nice mare with a proper English saddle. Both Darcy
and her mount were sweaty from even a short
ride in this tropical climate. "Trying to get some exercise?" Jason asked.
"I'm trying to keep my figure; it's harder as you get older, but I like riding."
She looked clean and healthy, if not fresh.
Darcy nodded toward the booms of Harry's shotgun. "Good excuse to come out this
far."
"Addie didn't think so. She was bouncing along on those
wagonboards, and that girl doesn't have a real ample rump."
"She's an adorable and lovely child. The talk around town is that you have
proposed. Do you care for her that much, Jason?"
"No, Darcy. I want her for her old man's plantation."
"Stop joking," she said and looked at him inquisitively enough to arouse Jason's
curiosity, and the answer was obvious.
"You want to know why I'm interested in a little salty island wart like Addie
when I could court real wealth and beauty."
"She's beautiful, Jason. I'm not saying she isn't."
"You're thinking maybe there might be something to the treasure story, if I'm
gonna hang around long enough to take a wife."
Darcy smiled, and used a soft cloth to brush the moisture from the horse's coat.
"We're mounting a serious salvage effort, Darcy. A steam engine and diving bell
are ordered, and we're going to install them
in a ship and raise that Spanish treasure. Harry showed me impressive samples
Jack Carney stole when he raided Big Pine.
Want to invest? Got any money saved, Darcy?" Jason ventured.
"I already told you what I think about this. Divers will get lucky and find a
stray coin or piece of jewelry. But an
extensive salvage operation will never make a profit. You'll never find a caché
of treasure down there worth half of what
you are going to spend looking for it." She slapped the horse's rump for
emphasis, and the mare bumped into Jason.
"Well, it's my money to waste. What do you have to tell me? I hear you've got
nosy neighbors, the Watlingtons. There's an
old maid daughter?"
She nodded. "That's why we are meeting here. Don't come to visit, unless you
want to cheat on Addie and have it known. And
you're going to have to really go . . . "
"All right!" Jason cut her off. "I understand how it is. Suppose I come late at
night, after you are closed, and quietly
through the backyard?"
"Like a `thief in the night'," she said.
"No. Like a `cat in the dark', as you taught me to move, Darcy," he responded.
She smiled and laughed quietly.
"What else did you find out?" Jason went on.
"Carney sailed for Georgetown, Grand Cayman. He can buy cannons there and have
them smuggled out to his ship at night. Then
he's going to Jamaica for mercenaries. Apparently he takes your endeavor more
seriously than I do."
"How did you come by that information in such a timely manner?"
"He left off some hands that came into Key West quietly to visit families."
"Do you know anything about Jamaican mercenaries, Darcy?"
"They come in all different colors and tastes. That island is a haven for
desperate criminals, and the ill-mannered."
"Is there one known as `Uriah'?"
"Yes. How did you find out about Uriah Stogger?
"Eavesdropping. What do you know about him?"
"He's a big, heavy bull of a man, older, with an English accent. I met him in
Havana a few years ago. I don't know where he
came from, but he showed up in the Caribbean about five years ago. Uriah Stogger
has the manners of an officer, but he's
gone to hell. He strikes me as a dangerous man with a heavy chip on his
shoulder. He's lost his conscience, but not the
ability to lead others."
"Jase," they heard Addie call from the beach.
"I'd better get back. Wait until we start shooting again, before you ride west,"
Jason advised.
Darcy nodded and Jason helped her mount up. Then he walked back toward the beach
and met Addie behind the house. Addie was
suspicious and looked around Jason to see Darcy riding off. They walked arm in
arm back to the beach. "Don't mention her to
your old man, not yet," Jason ordered.
"Okay, I understand. You're devious conspirators meeting in
secret, and Pappy has a loose mouth when he's been drinking."
"That's correct," Jason said, actually knowing Harry's experience as a
noncommissioned officer taught him to keep a
confidence better than most. He just didn't want to tell Addie anymore than she
had already seen.
"What I don't understand is why my backside is so sore. If I had known we were
going to traverse the length of the island by
wagon, I would have brought a pillow."
Jason grabbed her to him and held her gently by her backside. "I'm sorry, Addie.
I forgot about your adorable little bum
being so tender. I'll make it up to you anyway you want. I promise. Just tell me
what you want," Jason offered.
"I'll have to think about that," she said slowly and Jason knew he had made a
mistake.
The next day Jason went to the Key West Register office to look through past
issues. Rob Stevens was out but his assistant,
a pretty Cuban girl who introduced herself as Marissa, brought him a stack of
newspapers.
The old issues of the Register, like all old newspapers, were dusty and smelled
bad. Jason went through them, a year at a
time, back to events before the war.
The first interesting tidbit came in the summer of `58. Wade Estes married
Lorena Harrington May 5, 1858 in the First
Baptist Church. "Their reception was held on the lawn of the Harrington House
under the shade of the palms," the article
stated. Sarah Dumont was present with her parents, and the prettiest flower
girl.
Jason made a point to survey the shipping news. In the spring of 1857, Carney's
Raven was sighted off Key West. Then several
negro bodies floated into the harbor. During 1855 Dr. Samuels broke his arm. He
fell out of a tree trying to rescue a
neighbor's cat. Jason smiled as he read the guest column they gave the good
doctor, so he could describe the inconvenience
and pain of a mending arm.
There were all kinds of interesting items, and Jason read back until 1845. He
took detailed notes about Key West's prominent
people which he hoped would all weave together into the fabric of a conspiracy.
But there was just background material here.
Darcy's information would be helpful but also always peripheral. What Jason
really needed was an observer, a spy.
As Jason turned the dusty pages of the old newspapers, he decided to go to
Jamaica and see Uriah Stogger. There was nothing
for them to do in Key West, at the wreck site, or Big Pine Key, until the
salvage gear and the armament from Britain
arrived. Maybe he could convince Uriah Stogger not to join Carney. Either way
Jason wanted to size him up. If he seemed
dangerous, they could deal with Stogger right then, before he could link up with
Carney.
Jason thanked Marissa when he was done and left, happy to have avoided another
interview with Rob Stevens, who always had so
many questions Jason was not willing to answer.
Chapters - Prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 -11- 12 - Epilogue
U.S. Federal Copyright 'TXU 603-893
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