Chapter Four

 

 Saint Julians River 

 Copyright Bill Gallagher

Tampa Florida 

Deming New Mexico

 

 

 

   4.


     As John Prestwick exited his temporary quarters at Fort Frank Brook in Esteenhatchee Florida, his first thought concerned food.  Very distinctive odors wafted about on the breeze, and one in particular he found extremely enticing, because he had not smelled it since leaving Tampa, and that was Smoked Seafood.  His stomach growled noisily but then he found himself distracted by the sunset that was taking place in the western sky.  It was some sort of oddity, a reflection off the Gulf of Mexico maybe, which was only a few miles away as the birds fly. Even in Tampa he had never seen such a display, the colors were like a slow kaleidoscope, ever changing, and intricate.   He had once seen the glow of the north pole, aurora it was called, but this sunset put that to shame.  He continued to watch it with awe as he walked toward the front of the fort. 
     About halfway to the front gate he came across a guard station with a lone occupant, the inner guard.  He nodded at the man, who had a rather disinterested look about himself, as if he wished he were somewhere else.
     "Is it like that every night?" he asked the guard.
     It took the sentry a few seconds to notice Johhny was looking at the sunset.
     "Oh you mean the sunset, well so far its been like 'at most ever' night, at least durin' my time here, and thats 15 months an 28 days.  2 months an 3 days to go before I can get out of here, and I can't hardly wait.  Where you from?" he asked, then answered himself quickly,  "Oh you with them fellas come in onna survey crew, I saw the line of ya's comin' along the road this afternoon. Say,  would ya' like a nip?"
     The man held out a bottle of dubious distinction which he had hidden down below his chair.  He waved it enticingly at Johnny, who was not interested in drink right now, just food.  He told the man so, in as congenial terms as possible.  In fact Johhny was quickly becoming ravenous and thought he better move on before it started to show in his temperament.
     The guard introduced himself as Davy Shoemaker, and Johnny gave his name.  Johnny then asked about victuals, and Davy Shoemaker said:
     "Well, the canteen serving soldiers is around the corner to the left as you leave the front gate, down the hill about a quarter mile, though most everybody eats at the restaurant run by Cooey over on the river.  They got the best smoked shrimp and fried fish you can get anywhere, and they also raise bieves for meat, so you can get a steak too. If you go down there don't forget about yer new pal Davy Shoemaker, who likes to drink gin the best..."  Davy gave a bold wink and leaned back in his chair as Johnny waved goodbye and made his way quickly to the front gate.  The barricade of the fort wall was a good 8 feet tall, and as he exited the gate the smells on the air became stronger.  He thought he could hear faint music from the rivers edge, about a mile below him.  He began the trek to the restaurant on the river, becoming hungrier by the minute.   
     As he approached the place he was nearly carried away by the smell of the seafood.  The back of the restaurant, the part facing the river, had a dock and a large wood patio overhanging the water.  There were tables there and a few locals partook of the outdoors while sipping their drinks.  Johnny walked to the back, across the patio and opened a large wooden door which seemed to lead inside.   It did, and he saw that the place was doing a brisk business.  It was at least half full, and he figured it would only get busier as dark came on.  Everything was made of rough wood, the tables and chairs, the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the bar.  A large lamp on a center table was being lit as he entered.  Harmonica music from a dark man in a dark corner, low and slow.  John thought that might change a little later on, as liquor flowed more freely.
     Johnny was becoming less shy by the minute, not even looking around to see who was there.  He strode up to the bar and asked for a beer and a menu.  The bartender, a short muscular middle-aged man in a white apron, reached below himself and retrieved a black glass bottle with a cork wired onto it.  He produced a glass, opened the bottle, and poured the first drink from the bottle for Johnny, while saying "The only menu is on the board behind the bar here, I recommend the special, its the best deal and very fresh..."
     Johnny said he would take one of the specials.  He saw from the blackboard tonights special consisted of one fried fish, and 1/2  dozen smoked shrimp.  Along with the first beer the cost of the special: a silver half-dime.  Johnny reached into a pocket and removed a small leather pouch, from which he produced the necessary silver, and a large copper cent for the bartenders trouble.  This brought a smile from the man, who saluted his thanks, then walked to a small window in the wall under the blackboard and rang a bell there.  He yelled "Special" loudly.
     Johnny took a sip of the beer, which was surprisingly good, and hoped he didn't have to wait too long for his food.  He was again pleasantly surprised when in less than three minutes a heaping plate of fish and shrimp, along with a smaller plate containing greens salad and dark spiced rice, were placed before him on the bar.  Each headless shrimp was as long as his hand and as thick as a musket barrel!  The fried fish was a whole fish minus the head, scales, skin, and innards.  It smelled delicious.  Johnny remarked about the quick service, and the bartender said: "One more good reason to get the special."  The man winked and wiped his hands on a towel, then went about his business down the bar, where another customer, one Johnny knew, was already eating and drinking, and looking for another beer.  Rifleman Shane Paruche had wasted no time in getting the lay of the land, and he hollered and waved when he saw Johnny.  Johnny waved back, and with raised eyebrows and an approving nod he pointed a finger down at his plate, then tucked right into the extravaganza before him.
     As Johnnys hunger became less frantic he was able to take the time to breath, and to look around the restaurant.  The place was pretty large, and looked as if it would hold better than a hundred people, more if they squeezed in tight.  He noticed one table where a heated game of cards was taking place, though the players were trying their best to keep it from looking heated.  At another table was a family who had to be local, they consisted of Parents, two large boys just shy of being men, and one very pretty girl who might have been 16 or 17 years old.  They were all eating and talking amongst themselves.  Then the girl looked up, as if sensing his attention.  For a moment their eyes met but she was called back to the conversation at the table and Johnny concentrated on finishing his fish.  He heard a conversation down the bar, and it was one he had thought of himself.  Somebody asked the bartender what kind of fish was being served, but before the man could answer someone further down the bar said:
     "Its a Porgy, I eat them all the time up where I live in Maryland."  The man said it like port-a-gee, and his explanation brought a few hoots of derision from the crowd at the bar.  Someone offered the opinion that no porgy he had eaten ever tasted this good.  The bartender waited until it got quiet and then said he thought it was a type of snapper, they caught them in nets out off the rocks at the mouth of the Gulf.  The fish has a wicked set of teeth and used them to eat the crabs and barnacles off the rocks.  He said that before the fish was cleaned it was black in color. 
     "Personally," continued the bartender, its the best fish I have ever tasted, and I have had a lot." 
     Johnny had to agree.  The flesh was pure white, and not strong tasting, with an underlying richness that made it delectable.  The bones came out of the flesh as a nearly whole skeleton, and the meat was thick.  Still, the fish was not really in the same class as the shrimp, Johnny thought, finishing his last one.  There was nary a speck left on his plates, just bones, shrimp shells, and a smear here and there.  He began to drink his beer, enjoying it, feeling contented and peaceful.
     The door opened behind him, admitting a few men.  Johnny could see it was now dark outside.  One of the men was Ben Grierson who clapped Johnny on the back while hollering down the bar at Shane.
     "John, Shane, lets get us a table before they're all gone, what say?"
     Shane and Johnny, beers in hand, stood and followed Ben.  The family with the young daughter was leaving, so the men waited for their table as they got up.  Once again the young woman caught Johnnys eye and this time she smiled openly at him.  What a sweet thing she was, John Prestwick thought to himself, even if she was so much younger.      
     One of the bartenders assistants was a boy of about 10 or 11 years who looked a lot like the bartender in his facial features.  Johnny thought it was probably safe to believe he was somehow related.  The youngster made quick work of clearing the table, piling all the dishes and what not in a tub on a wheeled cart.  Wiping the table he asked the men what they would like and he took their order for another round of beer and a special for Ben Grierson, who was assured by his fellow soldiers that the plate was well worth the money.  Bens special and the drinks arrived quickly, and in between bites Ben caught them up a little on what to expect around the fort proper.  He stated first off that there was no curfew at the fort for visitors on leave, and the front gate was open for entry 24 hours a day.  Check with the sentry there if there is any problem.   He also mentioned a hunting party that was being assembled for day after tomorrow, the second day of their leave, and any of the surveyors wanting to go were welcome.  The locals used dogs to rout out wild boars which inhabited the edge of the swampland to the east.
     Ben Grierson mentioned it might be a good idea if they were interested in seeing where the next leg of their surveying would begin.  Both Johnny and Shane thought they would see it soon enough, and would be hunting for their own food by this time next week, so they were much more interested in hearing about the giant rope swing that had been installed upriver a half mile or so.  Those were always fun, and the weather was perfect.
     "Now something for you John. The Captain asked me to tell you to take it easy on the drinking and to eat well because you and he have special duty tonight.  Moon should be up in an hour or so and its nearly full.  He asked that you meet him at the pier on the river just west of here, you can't miss it.  My suggestion is that you finish your beer at a leisurely pace, while spending a little time in our sparkling company, then make your way down there.  Do you have any idea, boyo, whats in store?"
     Johnny did not.  In fact he felt slight consternation having to perform duty while the rest of the troop relaxed and played, but he kept it to himself.  He had told Matthew Gilmour that he would like to learn surveying, and it might have something to do with that.  He shrugged slightly, shook his head and told Grierson:
     "No I sure don't have any idea what we will be up to, but knowing the Captain it should be interesting."
      About that he was correct, 100 per cent correct.

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     Johnny strolled along the river road and the moon was just beginning to lighten the starry sky when he heard noises from the pier he was heading to.  Bumps and thuds, equipment was being moved around and it sounded like work.  He hurried along so as not to stick the Captain with all of it.  When he got to the stairs that led down to the pier he saw that the Captain was loading a rather large canoe with a couple boxes and some fishing rods.  He looked up and saw Johnnys silhouette. 
     "Well, there you are and just in time too!  Hand me that box and the oars and we will be on our way.  Careful with the box it has drinks in it.  Have you ever used a canoe before Johnny?"  The Captain was in good cheer and seemed energized.
     "Yes sir, many times, my Grandpa had one on his lake up north."
     "Aye, thats good then, because we have a ways to go.  Now, listen to me John, while its just us, here in the wilds of Florida, on our own time, doin' what we want to be doin', its not sir or captain, its Matt or Matthew, you hear?"
      "All right Cap...Matthew."  That would take some getting used to.
     "Now when we are back at the fort or around the other men or doing our job its captain or sir, but tonight is not that.  Tonight I wish to show you a few things about this place that I am sure you will find interesting, and as we go I will show you some things that you will definitely find valuable in the days and years to come."  He reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of material wrapped in paper.  He broke it in half, and put one half in his mouth, while passing the second half to Johnny.      
     "Chew on this for a minute or two, and swallow the juice, then spit the pulp into the river.  Its the cap from a type of mushroom found around here, the indians call it the flesh of God, but what I found is it keeps you awake.  Like any of these things it should never be used too much, or in quantity, but it is a handy constituent within natures pharmacopeia, like so many other things."
     Johnny did as he was told, though he thought the mushroom tasted more awful than anything he had ever put in his mouth.  He swallowed the juice created by his chewing, and within a minute spit the pulp out.  So did the Captain. 
     "In we go," said the Captain, handing him a paddle.  "You take the front.  The box right behind you is for fish, and if you need something to drink or eat, just say, because thats what the other box is."  Matthew Gilmour gave a light shove, and the boat eased out into the moving river, heading away from the fort and out to the Gulf of Mexico.  Johnny found his seat more comfortable than he remembered in his Grandpas canoe, and he saw the boat was not really so much a canoe as a skiff.  There was an unlit lantern in a basket on the bow, and an oil can to go with it.  There also was a short handled rake, like a clam rake, for what he did not know.  He thought this kind of boat would work very well in Tampa bay, but saw it was built from leftover woods, probably a one-of-a-kind product of the boatyard, which they would pass by soon.  Ah, there it went, dark shapes barely visible and the giant tree where the barge was anchored.  The current of the river moved along well here, and Johnny thought the trip back would be harder to navigate than the trip out, so it would be wise to ration his strength.  He regularly dipped his oar, pulling, and fell into rhythm without even realizing it.  Everything seemed to take on a light of its own, everything sort of glowed.  He felt entirely at peace and strange information began winding its way through his mind.  Of course he thought of the girl, it was the way he was made, and he saw her in ways that were not possible, as if he knew her.  The sensation was odd but not unpleasant.  He too began to feel energized.
     The Captain guided the boat into the middle of the river, then cross stream.  He obviously knew where he was going and the moon just got brighter and brighter.  There was no talk, so Johnny absorbed the full sensory aura of the place.  The odor of flowers was everywhere. Then:
      "Watch carefully now John," the Captain said.   He placed the skiff alongside the bank of the river, and tied off to a protruding tree root that stuck out into the water.   He grabbed one of the two very long fishing rods, and Johnny saw there was something on the thick end, something with feathers on it.  The Captain undid the feathered object and it swung out on a piece of hemp fishing line which was as long as the rod was.  The rod was made of heavy bamboo.
     "The fisherman around here called that feathered thing a popper, its a fish lure."  Matthew Gilmour let the current take his popper so it crossed alongside the canoe.  When the line became taut because of the current he gave the rod a good sideways pull, so the lure dug into the water.  A loud gurgling popping noise was produced as the lure did this, and after only three times the water boiled violently beneath the popper and it was gone.
     "Whoa-ho-ho" Exclaimed Matthew Gilmour  "Its a big one," and the fight was on.  The rod bent almost double and Johnny couldn't see how it would not break under such pressure.  The fish pulled back and forth alongside the boat and Matthew had all he could do to keep hold of the rod.  Then the fish jumped, tailwalking alongside the entire canoe, re-entering the water right in front of Johnny, who sat there astonished.  It WAS a big one! 
     "You have to fight 'em some," said the Captain as he guided the fish to and fro, "Or they will be too full of energy when they are lifted into the boat, and like as not they will tear something up or escape."  Johnny thought of the net his Grandpa used to land the bass from the lake, but those bass were nowhere near as feisty or big as these Florida fish.  He looked for a net just in case, but did not see one.  Then the captain just lifted the fish right out of the water with the fishing rod, which was  again bent double, and because Johnny saw it coming, and because he had done this type of thing before, he lifted the lid off the fish box while Matthew dropped the big monster right into the box.  Johnny quickly grabbed the popper with his right hand while holding the fish down with his left, and twisted the hook from the fishes mouth.  He then let go the popper and slammed the lid on the fish box.  The Captain looked quite surprised but recovered quickly.  Loudly he said:
     "Next!"
     Then it was Johnnys turn and he just followed the example, up to and including the slamming of the lid of the fish box on large fish number two.  Johnny first thought these were bass but recognized them as what the Tampa fishermen called sea trout, large fighters and delicious to eat, they were predators which ate other fish.  They had some bad teeth right at the front, and you had to be very careful.  These were even bigger than the Tampa Bay specimens, probably because they were not fished so heavily.  The men took turns catching more, because two could not fish at once lest lines get tangled.  There was a lot of action and they became picky, letting smaller ones go. Finally, Matthew told John to take the boat out into the current while he gutted the 7 large sea trout they had kept.  The trout were then layered with some kind of aromatic leaf in between them.  The river took the boat, Johnny steered is all, keeping in the middle.  He noticed it widened as they went and correctly guessed they were getting close to the open gulf.
     As he cleaned the fish the Captain talked, filling Johnny in on some of his personal history.  It would be Johnnys turn on the way back, but for now he learned that Matthew Gilmour was born in Kentucky, though his parents had moved from there when he was young because his father, a military man and also a surveyor, had duty near
Chesapeake Bay as a teacher on a military installation.  Matthew had 2 brothers and a sister, and he was the youngest child.  From High School Matt went to several colleges, for various things, and did well.  He was awarded a commission from the Army on his graduation with a degree in Hydro-engineering, specializing in Survey.  He liked survey work, because it was adventure, which was what made life wonderful, he said.  Then he let loose with a very interesting tidbit, this was his 6th time at Esteenhatchee.  Fort Frank Brook had been his first tour of duty in the military, over 15 years ago, and he had initially surveyed all the land around here for miles and miles.  In fact their next survey began where another survey left off 7 years before.  Esteenhatchee was like home to Captain Gilmour, which explained his familiarity with all things local.  Johnny would soon learn that many of the things around Esteenhatchee were more than just familiar to Matthew.   Many things were Well Known.
 
   

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     Within half an hour or so the 7 very large sea trout were safely stowed, and Johnny thought that was good because the rowing was becoming harder.  Two men were better than one, especially when one of them was Matthew Gilmour, because he was as strong as an ox.  Almost all the current of the river had dissipated quickly once the Gulf of Mexico opened its wide maw to swallow anything coming down the Esteenhatchee River.  Tonight that included two explorers in their boat, but other than them, there was not a lot about.  Fish splashed here and there and occasionally night hunting birds made noises, as did their kills, but overall the silence was nearly total.  Johnny thought that would change once any kind of breeze happened, but for now the air itself was still, like a blanket.  The Captain took control of the boat as the moon got brighter and brighter, almost impossibly bright. 
     "Soon Johnny, you will see something very few people have ever seen, and of those who have seen it, most do not believe." Matthew Gilmours voice was low and vibrant, as if taking on the aspects of the surroundings. "There ahead, do you see the mangrove island with the white sand beach?"
     Johhny was feeling slightly apprehensive but said yes he saw it.
     "Thats our destination, right up on that beach.  You will need to get the lantern lit, and grab that clam rake in the basket, once we get there.  But before then I want you to watch carefully, at the top of the beach, and tell me what you see."
     As the boat neared the sandy spit of land the moon glowed off the whiteness of the sand and Johnny thought he saw movement up among the mangrove trees.
     "Is there something there Matthew?  Thought I saw something move in amongst the trees."  
     "Yes there is something there John, but nothing that can bother the likes of us, now watch closely as they act out their eternal drama..."
     Johnny saw the shapes of men, two were in a hole digging, and two were standing nearby with very old looking guns in their hands.  Both those men had two pistols each, one in each hand.  There was a pile of small wooden boxes outside of the hole that the two with guns seemed to be guarding.  All the men were filthy and wore rags. Suddenly John Prestwick realized he could see the mangrove trees right through the men.  What in hell was this?  He felt the hairs rise on his neck, and his stomach did a slow roll over.   
     Then a small cloud covered the moon, and the entire scene disappeared.  The cloud blew away quickly though, and the scene reappeared, brighter and more distinct as their boat approached the beach.  Johnny saw the two men outside the hole each fire one of their pistols into the hole, presumably killing the two who had been digging.  They then kicked all the boxes into the hole on top of the dead men, and quickly kicked sand over the hole.  Then, incredibly, they turned the remaining guns on one another and fired!  Obviously each intended to be the last man standing, the only one alive who knew the location of the treasure, but that was not to be.  
     "So what do you think about that little life lesson John?  More like a death lesson, eh?"  Matthew was giving his oar one last push to get up the beach and Johnny jumped onto the sand.   Once the boat stopped sliding they both grabbed a side and pulled it up out of tides way.  Johnny got the lantern lit while Matthew opened the drink box.
     Soda water or beer John?"
     "Beer please."  He felt he would feel better with another beer in him, maybe two or three, especially after what he'd just witnessed.  Little did he know.
     "Those are real ghosts, John, damned for eternity, I would say.  Everything about that little scene is real, come, I'll show you."
     They took their beers with them and Johnny grabbed the clam rake after giving the lantern to the Captain.  They made their way up the beach to the area where the ghostly scene had acted itself out.  Johnny wondered if he and the captain had somehow been a part of that, if it was even possible for something like that to happen without observation.  He dropped those thoughts right away though, they led straight to another whirlpool in his mind which he cared not to address at this time, if ever.
     There in the sand lay the scattered remains of two skeletons, dressed in rags.
     "I took their guns the first time I came here."
     Johnny remembered the big flintlock pistol the Captain had used to kill the bear, early in their journey.  
     "No one else knows of this John," he continued, "The tides have eaten into the old hole and strewed what was in it across this whole beach.  So you see, the records of man, mans leavings, are not restricted to the ancient sculpture you introduced me to."
     It took Johnny a second to realize the Captain was referring to the Florida agate spearpoints.  Then Matthew bent over,  placing the lantern down onto the sand, and picked something up. 
     "Heres one already" he said, and gave it to Johnny, "Keep it, it will bring you luck. And now you know what the clam rake is for."
     The item was a roughly shaped black disc, thick, metallic, about the size of a silver dollar, and even in the moonlight Johnny could see the Spanish cross stamped on it.  It was a blackened silver piece from early Spanish days, the 1500s or 1600s.  It was a silver piece of eight!  The Captain was busy looking, and putting things in his pockets.  Johnny did likewise.
      Matthew said:
     "Theres many gold pieces here too..."
     Then there was a lot of busy silence for quite some time.