“How do you know?” Sean asked, curiously.
Dowlings motioned to a nightstand nearby. “Maybe you should read what’s in the top drawer. Then you can ask whatever you want.”
Sean hesitantly reached over and pulled open the nightstand drawer. The only thing inside it was an old, leather diary, and a folded up piece of parchment. He pulled out the old, yellowish paper and carefully opened it up.
June 20, 1863
One week ago, I received orders to take The Oconee to Great Britain. Our mission was to seek British support for our cause and pay them for their allegiance. I, for one, do not trust British. We relieved ourselves of their yolk once before, and I have no intention of putting it back on again. I’d rather live with the yanks than deal with the British again.
Only the top brass of the Confederacy know what we carry with us. The official story is that we are headed to England with a shipment of cotton to trade for weapons and supplies. Even with a stock of cotton, our boat would be difficult to manage in the open sea. I couldn’t risk the lives of the men who have served so loyally with me for the past few years. I have served too many battles with these men to risk their lives on a foolish gamble. The tide of the war is turning, and I fear that even if we succeeded with our mission, the conflict would be lost.
A violent storm arose on the evening we were to sail, providing the perfect cover for the plan that I devised. We disappeared into the rain, changing our course as soon as we were out clear of the city. I’d remembered finding a cave, a few years before, on an uninhabited island not far from the harbor. Upon venturing into the recession, I confirmed that it was big enough to hold a ship the size of ours, so long as we disassembled the smoke stacks and masts to give her higher clearance.
So, that is exactly what we did. We reached the island easily, and upon arriving, made quick work of the masts and stacks. Initially, getting the ship into the cave was difficult. We sent men ashore with ropes to guide her in, something made more arduous given our precious cargo. Fortunately, the shallow draft of the vessel allowed us to get it all the way into the hiding place.
We have enough provisions to sustain us for the next several weeks, at which point, I will allow my men to return to shore, a few at a time, so as not to draw attention. I write this correspondence so that the true fate of our ship and its crew may be known at a later point in history that may judge our actions less harshly.
Captain Josiah Tattnall
CSS Oconee
Sean finished reading the letter then rescanned it quickly. He reverently placed it back in the nightstand and closed the door.
“Interesting, huh?” Dowlings asked, breaking the silence.
Sean nodded. “Sure is,” he agreed. After thinking for a moment, he began to ask another question but thought better of it.
“It’s okay, Son,” Dowlings reasurred. “You want to know what happened to the gold, don’t you?”
Sean shrugged. “Do you know what happened to it?”
“Course I do,” he said, his voice echoing through the room. “The captain split it up with his men, and sent them back to the mainland. They spend a few weeks on the island first. Then some of his men who’d stayed back in the city started making daily trips around the coastline. They would pick up some more of the men and drop them off. The captain was the last one to leave the ship.”
“So,” Sean said after Dowlings had finished his story. “What happened to The Oconee? Did they just leave it there in the cave?”
Dowlings had a sly look on his face as he answered. “Yep. They just left it there in the cave.”
“And in the last hundred and fifty years, no one has ever stumbled onto this mysterious cave?”
The old man shook his head. “The captain made sure that would never happen.”
Sean appeared dubious, narrowing his eyes. “How did he do that?”
“He bought the island!” Dowlings exclaimed. “My great grandpappy went back and bought the whole thing. It wasn’t a very big island and it was mostly made of rock, so he got it cheap. He even built a lighthouse on it, if you can imagine.”
“Wait a minute,” Sean stopped him. “You mean, he had actually had the nerve to draw more attention to the island by putting a lighthouse on it?”
Dowlings became very serious as he spoke. “Have you ever heard of hiding something in plain sight?” he asked.
Sean nodded. He remembered his favorite author, Edgar Allan Poe, had written an entire short story on the subject.
“Then you understand. It would be the last place anyone would think to look. It would have fooled you, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But couldn’t someone wander into the cave on a jet ski or something?”
Dowlings shook his head. “My great grandfather took dynamite out there and blew up part of the entrance. Only a small part of it remains. The entire thing has been closed up for hundreds of years.”
It was a lot for Sean to process. He’d come to Savannah expecting to hear a few tall tales and then head back to Atlanta with nothing. Now the trip had taken a huge turn.
“Have you ever seen the ship?” he asked after a few moments of reflection.
A grin creased across the older man’s face. “Son, I own the island.”
Sean stepped out of the room with a piece of paper on which was written the address for a boat rental place. It also contained the exact location of the island that Dowlings had described. He stuffed the paper into the button down pocket on his shirt and walked towards the exit.
On his way past the nurse’s desk, the head nurse made a snide comment. “The old man been telling treasure stories again?” The remark caused Sean to stop and give the portly, white woman an inquisitive look.
“I’m sorry. What do you mean?”
She raised both eyebrows. “Lots of people come in here to see Mr. Dowlings. They always leave here thinking he just gave up the goods from some old treasure or something. But they always come back empty handed. He’s just a crazy, old coot.”
Sean raised his chin and nodded slowly. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said as he left the building.
A few minutes later, he was in his car and on the phone with Tommy. “I’ve got an interesting lead down here,” he said. “Found a few guys who seem to know an awful lot about the boat.”
“Ship,” Tommy corrected.
“What?”
“It’s a ship. Not a boat. A boat is something you take fishing on a lake,” Tommy continued.
Sean rolled his eyes. “I know the difference,” he said, slightly annoyed. “Anyway, I’m heading down to the pier to rent a boat. There’s an island a few miles outside the harbor that I’m going to check out. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
“Sounds good. Be careful out there,” Tommy warned. “Storms can pop up fast around that area this time of year.”
“Will do, buddy. I’ll check back later.” He started to hang up then said, “Tommy. Find out anything you can about a blonde Dutch woman with an affinity for antiques. I had a run in with her and some of her men.”
“Problems?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. They were amateurs. And I got the feeling they weren’t going to kill me. Still, I want to know who I’m dealing with. I may end up seeing them again.”
“Sure thing. I’ll see what I can find out.”
Sean ended the call and parked his car as close as possible to the marina. It seemed like there were hundreds of boats tied up to the web of piers and slips. He found his way to the boat rental office and went through the process of getting a small center-console boat. Sean was a little surprised at how easily one could rent a boat without having to prove the competency to drive it. Fortunately, the process didn’t take long and he was quickly directed to his boat.