Confederate Gold and Silver (38 page)

Paul then told them the missing treasury appeared to have been buried in at least two places. “From the fourth letter, I know some of the gold and silver was separated from the original shipment and was buried in North Carolina, but I am not sure where as of yet. However, I do know what markings our Captain Francis gave to the area where the money was buried. He marked the area to make it easy to be found when he went back to retrieve it at a later time. Unfortunately for both he and the Confederacy, he never made it back there. We find this location and we find some of the missing treasury, gold and silver which has been buried for over one hundred and fifty years. Besides the historical significance of finding the money, the gold and silver is obviously worth many times over what it was worth when it was buried by Francis and his men.”

Chick and Jayne were now smiling as they at least knew where they would be starting their search for the missing treasury.

“Oh, I told you he buried it in two places, didn’t I? Well, from the fourth letter I think he may have hid some of it in places to keep it safe, but I don’t think he buried all of it. I think he just hid it for us to find.”

The excitement in Chick and Jayne’s eyes was easy for Paul to see. He could almost hear the wheels spinning in their heads as they tried to figure out a way to locate the first spot where the missing gold and silver had been buried. After several minutes of listening to his two excited partners talk about ways to find the missing money, a grinning Paul calmed them down so he could speak. “If it is of any interest to you, I already have a plan on how to possibly find the money.”

Paul then shared his plan with both of them. After he finished, and without a moment to reflect on what he had told them, they both quickly agreed it was a great way to try and find the missing money.

Now all they had to do was to implement Paul’s plan. Praying at the same time no one had placed a ten story apartment building or an interstate highway where Francis had carefully buried the money so many years ago.

Summer,
1863

18
The
Cemetery.
 

“To
move
swiftly,
strike
vigorously,
and
secure
all
the
fruits
of
victory
is
the
secret
of
a
successful
war.”
General
Thomas
Jonathan
‘Stonewall’
Jackson,
CSA

After they had disembarked from the train, Francis rode out to scout the area in front of them as they moved further south. As he did, he continually looked over his right shoulder to make sure the wagons had stayed together as they slowly proceeded down the rough dirt trail. It was a trail the local residents referred to as the Georgetown Turnpike. “It is hardly worth being called a turnpike,” Francis thought as he again turned to check on the wagons. He saw they were still in line and still staying close to each other in the event they were surprised by a Union attack of some sort.

They had been travelling over the rough road for almost five hours when he saw one of his Virginia sergeants, Franklyn Banks, who he had sent out in advance of the wagon train, riding back towards him. Francis reached for his pocket watch and saw the time was close to six pm, still too early to call a halt for the day.

“Captain, the road ain’t no better as far as I’ve ridden, it gets even worse in some spots. I ain’t gonna be surprised if one of them wagons don’t throw a wheel seeing how bad it gets up ahead. You might want to give some thought to having us move out into the fields. The ground ain’t as hard, but it seems to be a lot less rugged than this here road is. Might be worth thinking on.”

“Alright, I will give it some thought. We need to keep moving for a spell as we still have plenty of daylight left. What else do you see up ahead?”

“Not much, but y’all already knew that didn’t ya, captain? Seeing we is in South Carolina now and not in the beautiful state of Virginia.” Francis smiled at the comment Banks had made, knowing it was an attempt at humor and a way for both of them to spend a quick moment thinking of home.

“This is pretty country too, Franklyn, but you’re right, it isn’t home.”

As Banks started to ride towards the wagons to get a drink of water before heading back out, Francis yelled to him. “Sergeant, tell the men we will ride for another two hours or so, then we will make camp for the night. Tell Samuel we are having a hot meal tonight.” Banks waved to let him know he heard him and then gave his horse a gentle nudge with his spurs, riding off towards the wagons and the drink of water he badly needed.

They had moved along for just over two more hours when Banks rode back to where Francis was still riding out in front of the wagons. “Captain, I found us a good spot to spend the night. It’s only about another five minute ride from here. It has a small brook running nearby as well.”

Francis nodded his head in approval to Banks. “OK, I will tell the men. When we get there keep an eye on us until you see we have made camp. I want you to scout the surrounding area so we do not have any unwanted visitors. We will get you some dinner later on.”

After finally stopping after a long hot day of travelling, Samuel cooked them a dinner consisting of beans, salt pork, and some vegetables they had been able to obtain back in Florence. For life on the road, it was a feast they had not enjoyed in some time. As they finished their meal it was nearly dark and little time existed for the men to talk. The thought of a good nights sleep took precedence over campfire stories which had already been told several times over amongst them.

After eating, and then sleeping for only four hours, a still tired Sgt. Odom rode out to relieve an equally tired and still hungry Sgt. Banks. He had remained on sentry duty as the others had eaten and grabbed a few hours of shut eye. Now it was his turn to do the same. Odom spent the rest of the night slowly riding around the camp making sure unwanted Yankee guests did not spoil the sleep of his fellow soldiers. He had kept a sharp eye out for unwanted guests, but failed to keep an eye out for someone who fled the camp during the night.

As dawn broke the following morning, one by one the men woke up and began to stir. Soon they started preparing to move out for the day. On most mornings the smell of both the morning campfire and brewing coffee would greet them as they started moving about, but today it took a couple of minutes before Sgt. McKinney noticed this was not the case. It took him several more minutes to realize Samuel was not in camp. Then he let the others know what he had realized. “Captain, I seen him here late last night. He had kept some food warm for Franklyn until he could be relieved by Big Ed. I even seen him lay down on his blanket under the mess wagon. You know, how he usually does.” Francis then had Stine and Davis search the area around the camp to see if they could locate Samuel. As they left, a somewhat embarrassed Sgt. Odom now worried he would soon incur the wrath of his captain, but it did not happen. The two sergeants had just left camp when McKinney yelled to no one in particular. “It looks like we are missing some food and a couple of blankets as well. I hope we ain’t missing any gold!”

Francis and the others quickly scrambled to check the wagons to see if any gold or silver was missing, but soon they determined their precious cargo was still secure. Nothing else was found to be missing. While pleased the gold and silver was safe, Francis now realized he had one less man to help them drive the wagons. More importantly, he realized they had also just lost their most experienced cook.

“OK, men, let’s get ready to move out, we leave in ten minutes. When we do we need to keep a sharp eye out for Yankee cavalry. If Samuel is caught he knows what we are carrying in the wagons and who knows what he might tell them blue bellies. Mind the wagons as well as we cannot afford to lose anymore of them.”

Over the next three days they pushed closer to Georgetown. Despite the unusually hot weather they moved without incident. As they moved along during these three days, Francis steered them east and closer to the South Carolina coast. Moving closer to the coast they passed through an area north of Georgetown, an area where Clifton Plantation was located. There they watered and rested their horses while Francis learned the best route to take. He learned from the plantation’s owner they would soon have to cross both the Waccamaw River and the Great Pee Dee River, and a couple of smaller rivers, in order to make it to the northern part of Georgetown.

The crossing of the Waccamaw River proved to be a fairly easy task as a well built, but narrow wooden bridge spanned the river. The bridge easily allowed for even the heavy Conestoga wagons to pass over it without incident. Francis had the heavy wagons move over the bridge cautiously, allowing only one wagon to move across at a time. He did not want the weight of several wagons causing the bridge to buckle. Spilling their precious cargo into the fast moving water below would deal a devastating blow to the Confederacy. It took some time, but soon the wagons were all across the river.

Shortly after crossing the Waccamaw River they arrived at the northern bank of the Great Pee Dee River. Francis had sent Sgt. Griffin out as their advance scout and he had scouted the banks of the river for the easiest place to cross. It took some time, but Griffin located a private ferry operating on the river. Riding back to the wagons, he located Francis and advised him of what he had found. Now the wagons moved to where the ferry operated. It was late afternoon when Francis, after briefly scouting the area himself, realized they would have to use the ferry to cross the river as it was far too deep to cross on their own.

The operator of the ferry, Joseph Sullivan, was a huge in size and as strong a man of any that lived in the parts north of Georgetown. Pulling ferry barges across the river for years had made him famous in these parts for his strength and he had won many foolish bets from strangers who had challenged his almost legendary strength. Besides being a man who liked to take a drink, Sullivan was also a man who never said no to making a dollar, but when Francis told him he was moving south on orders from General Lee, he refused to take any payment for moving the wagons across the river. “No, sir, I ain’t taking no money from the Confederate army. General Lee himself moved across this here river on my ferry a couple of years back when the war was first starting. A right neighborly type of man he was. He even shook my hand when he thanked me for pulling him across the river. Nope, I ain’t taking no money from you soldiers. Enough said about that, let’s get moving!”

As much as Francis had warned Sullivan about his concern regarding the weight of each of the wagons, the wagons and one team of horses had moved across the river without incident. Then, on the second to last trip across the river, with the ferry now loaded with three teams of horses, and with Sgts. McKinney and Odom tending them, one of the ferry’s two ropes worked free from the pulley assembly on the south side of the river. The ropes were used to guide the ferry across the river in a straight line. Soon the pulley assembly broke completely and it caused the ferry to spin momentarily out of Sullivan’s control, even though the river’s current was not terribly strong. The sudden movement caused the horses to panic and they jerked free of the reins McKinney and Odom had been holding onto. As McKinney struggled to regain control of the reins for one team of horses, he was violently kicked in the head by one of the out of control horses. Immediately he fell down onto the wooden deck of the ferry. As he lay there unconscious, he was repeatedly stepped on by the agitated horses. In a matter of moments one team of horses spilled into the river, pulling with them the unconscious Sgt. McKinney. His nearly lifeless body had gotten tangled up in the reins of one team of horses. Just seconds after that, Sgt. Odom, who was also attempting to regain control of another team of horses, was also knocked into the river by the horses. A second team of horses soon followed Odom into the river as they now had no one trying to calm them down. The horses had lost their footing on the ferry’s slippery wooden decking before they fell into the river. Forced to momentarily let go of the ropes he had been holding, Sullivan quickly managed to calm down the third team of horses.

Standing on the southern bank of the river, Francis saw this all unfold. Like his men who now stood on both sides of the river, he was helpless to do anything. Soon both teams of horses were able to regain their footing in the river. Despite struggling against the slow moving current, they reached the southern bank of the river without further incident. With the help of Francis and Sgt. Davis, who waded into the river to reach him, Odom made it out of the water with only a sprained ankle. He was soon distraught over the loss of his good friend. Over the next couple of hours they all searched the river’s muddy water for McKinney, but despite their efforts they could not locate his body. He had likely drowned after being kicked in the head by one of the horses.

After all of the horses had been retrieved, the ferry was quickly repaired and the remaining horses and supplies were moved across the river. Devastated by the accidental death of McKinney, Francis sensed his men needed a rest and he quickly ordered a halt for a couple of hours. Now down another man, and battling to hold back his own tears, Francis rode off on his horse to grieve in private for a few minutes. The loss was especially hard on him as he had come to lean hard on the dependable McKinney over the last couple of weeks.

Riding along the banks of the Waccamaw River as he grieved over the loss of another of his men, Francis tried to figure out how he could move more wagons than he had men to drive them. As he slowly rode along, he came across a small inlet which led inland off the river. Riding along the shore of the Inlet, he came across a clearing that held a small cemetery within it. After dismounting, he led his horse to a small brook which fed into the river. From the slow running brook, he and his horse drank the cool fresh water. As his horse rested, Francis walked the short distance to the small cemetery. It was surrounded on all four sides by a chest high mortared red brick wall. The front wall had two large black wrought iron gates that served as the entrance to this family cemetery. Nearby several large massive Live Oak trees, each draped in Spanish moss, stood guard outside the rear wall, their large limbs hanging over a section of the back part of the cemetery.