“Twenty-three pirates fought a fierce battle against the thirty navy sailors. Blackbeard, already wounded, found himself face to face with Maynard. Both men were armed with pistols. Blackbeard shot but missed. Maynard’s shot took Blackbeard in the shoulder. It slowed the pirate down but failed to stop him. Blackbeard slashed at Maynard with his cutlass so hard that he snapped Maynard’s sword in two and was on the verge of swinging a lethal blow when one of Maynard’s men heaved a boarding pike at him, hitting his shoulder and slicing off a piece of his ear. Dazed, he took another blow in the forehead and blood streamed down his face, blinding him. Despite the fact that most of his men were either dead or captured, he refused to back down and swung his cutlass wildly at Maynard’s crew. Blackbeard died, still on his feet, having taken twenty sword wounds and five musket shots.
“You really have to wonder if his incredible stamina wasn’t enhanced by a healthy dose of some drug or other,” added Cynthia before continuing.
“In a gruesome display, Maynard ordered his men to cut off Blackbeard’s head and hang it beneath the bowsprit. He then sailed home in victory, proudly displaying his trophy so that it might be a lesson to all pirates.
“What was left of Blackbeard’s crew was tried and hanged for piracy.”
Cynthia paused, her story was not yet complete.
“On the night before Blackbeard’s final battle, one pirate asked Blackbeard if his wife knew where he had hidden his treasure, just in case something should happen. Blackbeard had scoffed at talk of mortality. His answer had been: “No one but I and the devil knows where the treasure lays … and the longest liver shall take it.”
“Before sailing away, Maynard searched Blackbeard’s ship hoping to claim the phantom treasure or at least find a map that would lead him to it. He found nothing but stores and letters on board. The treasure eluded him as it eluded so many others, both before and after Blackbeard’s death.”
Cynthia stopped talking and sat very erect with her hands clasped in her lap.
Langdon had been spellbound while Cynthia relayed her story. He felt like the listener in the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner. After a long pause he finally spoke.
“It’s hard to believe that in roughly only two short years, Blackbeard plundered his way from the Caribbean to Canada, capturing fifty ships and marrying, what did you say, fourteen times? He must have just been in his early twenties when he was killed. That’s one helluva history lesson, which by the way, you relayed exceptionally well,” he complimented her.
“Oh that’s only half the story,” stated Cynthia.
Langdon felt a thrill surge through his body. Tiny goose bumps rose up on his arms. What could the other half be about if it wasn’t Blackbeard’s treasure. Despite his age, Langdon could never resist a story about hidden treasure.
“Only half? Well, I’m all in.” he exclaimed. “I can’t wait to hear the rest but let’s call a brief intermission. I’ll check to see how your batteries are doing.” He looked down at his empty glass and Cynthia caught the drift.
“I’ll make another round of drinks and we can continue. Agreed?”
“I promise to be quick with those batteries. I’m definitely looking forward to hearing the rest of the story,” he said sincerely.
Cynthia beamed. A born storyteller she knew when she had captivated her audience. While she mixed another pitcher she collected her thoughts, feeling proud that her story had commanded Langdon’s undivided attention and what he had called an “intermission.” For the last hour she had been the star of the show and she was quite capable of basking in her moment of glory.
Chapter 3
The Gold Hole
Fresh drinks in hand, Langdon waited expectantly for Cynthia to continue her tale. A couple of hours ago he had been bored stiff. Then he had considered making a fast getaway from an older woman in distress. Now he was firmly committed to making sure she got home safely and freely admitted to himself that he was totally enthralled with this unusual story teller. It amazed him that things could change so quickly in the course of a few hours. Cynthia sat comfortably in her chair but leaned forward slightly as she continued her yarn.
“Topsail Island,” she waved her hand at the closest landmass, “at the time of Blackbeard, was covered with tall pines inside the dunes that lined the outer shore. The island earned its name from merchant ships whom had fallen prey to pirates. The pirates used to swoop out from behind the island as the merchant ships passed. Eventually the merchants learned to look over the tops of the trees in search of high masts with topsails already set. It was a sure sign of an impending attack. The merchants, thus warned, could pull further off-shore. If they were lucky, they had a reasonable chance of out running their attackers. That’s how the island got its name. To be clear about this, no one has ever confirmed that Blackbeard set foot on Topsail Island but being so close to Beaufort Inlet, logic dictates that it would have been a natural choice. Aside from pirates, the lonely, uninhabited island was used only occasionally by Indians who went there to fish and dig for clams. Perhaps by Blackbeard’s time, a few local fishermen visited there in the summer. Regardless, it was a lonely spot and it’s not surprisingly the twenty-five mile long island became a focal point for legends of buried treasure.”
Those two words confirmed Langdon’s predictions. He felt his heart beat just a little faster but did not realize that his fingers were tightening on the arm of the deck chair. Cynthia, however, was well aware of the effect her story was having on him and smiled smugly to herself.
“Sometime in the mid 1930’s a man by the name of Julian S Jacobs came to Topsail Island for what was supposed to be a holiday. The island was still nothing more than an outpost for fishermen but less friendly than in Blackbeard’s time because by then, most of the tall pines had been felled for timber and the island was covered with nothing more than scrub brush and tree stumps. There were no bridges back then and the only access to the island was by boat. All-in-all, it was a barren and desolate place.
”The boat dropped Jacobs off and unloaded a large wooden crate that he had brought with him. The crew noted that it was not at all like the usual fishing or clamming gear that most people would visit the island with. Jacob first established a small camp, then, instead of fishing he combed the beaches dragging behind him a very strange machine that he had extracted from the crate. Jacobs, you see, was a successful mining engineer and owner of The Carolina Exploration Co. He was no wannabe, either. Originally from New York, he owned and operated a number of successful mines and was well connected, both politically and financially.
“All this led to the question “What was he doing on Topsail Island?” It was just a ragged piece of sand, certainly no place for a holiday. Nevertheless, there he was.
“The instrument he carried was some sort of a metal detector about which little is known. Some people called it a “diviner” and it must have been some sort of sonar or Geiger counter. Jacobs had apparently used the machine before while prospecting for his mines and since he had a good track record in that field, who could argue with his methods. Apparently he decided to try it out on the beach, hoping he would discover a pirate’s treasure chest. Following his brief stay on the island, Jacobs, returned to New York and began to tell a selected few the results of his visit to this island wasteland. He first met with Dr. William Walker, brother to Jimmy Walker, the famous mayor of New York. Walker owned the scientific rights to the machine. He and Dr. Walker, apparently convinced a number of wealthy individuals, including Harrison Gunnings of Brooklyn and Louis Hepp, to back a venture to excavate a shipwreck that Jacobs claimed to have discovered with his divining machine. The machine, he said,