CSA 1916 News

[Guinness]

February, 1916

24° 40' 37" Latitude -83° 15' 15 Longitude (about 190 miles West-Northwest of Key West)

"Skipper: have you heard about those new Sloops the Navy is building? Bigger. 18 knots. Two twenty-pounder guns. And a wireless! You think they'll issue us a new one to replace this bucket?"

The Skipper of the Confederate Naval Sloop S-10, one Lietenant Clark from Mobile, Alabama looked up from his chart. He rather liked his little tub. A twenty-five year old Lieutenant couldn't ask for much more for his first command. "I'm sure the navy will be issuing those boats where they are most needed, Seaman. What happened to hooking up with a tramp steamer after your enlistment is up?"

The helmsman, Able Seaman Boatwright (and yes, the other men constantly teased him about his name) continued to scan the horizon outside the pilothouse windows, while also checking the compass in front of his wheel. "Well, I've been talking with Chief Gomez about re-upping."

The conversation was interrupted by a call from the lookout. "Skipper, I see smoke on the horizon."

Clark stepped out of the pilot house and saw what the lookout was pointing toward. He brought his binoculars up to his eyes to get a better look. "Hmm. That's probably worth checking out." Then to Boatwright: "Bring us about. Due south. Make our speed two thirds."

The better part of an hour passed as the little sloop made its way south toward the smoke sighting. Even at two thirds power, she could only make about eleven knots. The sloop gently rose and fell with the gentle gulf swells. The weather was immaculate, clear skies and warm. Most of the men on deck wore the wide-brimmed white hats almost all Confederates in military service wore when it was warm out and they were dressed in working uniforms. Clark was the sole exception in his white officer's cap, to go with his light linen working pants and shirt sleeves. Service on a sloop on patrol was usually an informal affair.

Soon enough the lookout, now posted near the top of the sloop's mast, called down again "Sir: It looks like a schooner rig. Two masts. No sail rigged."

"Heading?" Clark answered back. The lookout inspected the sighting again for a moment. I think she's pointed East-Northeast sir. I don't think she's moving though. Maybe drifting.

A few more minutes passed before the hull of the schooner was visible to those on the bridge. She had a small but noticeable list to port, and it seemed a small smoldering fire in the vicinity of the galley skylight aft. "Bring us around toward her stern." Clark ordered. Then after thinking about it a minute. "Chief, sound general quarters please."

Most of the men were already at or near action stations, so Chief Gomez could report almost instantly "Sir, the boat is at general quarters."

"Thank you Chief."

When the stern came within sight, Clark could see the ship's name and home port. Cherokee out of Saint Petersburg. Chief Gomez began flipping through S-10's well worn copy of the Lloyd's Register.

"Cherokee. Two masted schooner out of St. Petersburg, Florida. Lloyds says she's in good shape. 90 feet long. 190 tons. That looks like our guy. Says here she's owned by a concern called Tampa Bay Transhipment."

"It doesn't look like anyone's awake over there, but let's try anyway." Clark pointed to a seaman on the bridge, who flipped the switch on the sloop's airhorn. Being petrol powered, she had no steam whistle. The blaring loud sound of the three second burst of the horn sounded out over the Gulf, followed by another burst. Clark studied the deck of the Cherokee with his binoculars.

"Chief, take a boarding party over there if you would please."

"Aye aye Skipper. Boarding detail! report to the quarterdeck." Like the general quarters order, this order was fulfilled nearly immediately, as most of the members of the boarding party were already collected on the quarterdeck near S-10's motor launch. The launch was in the water and making the short trip to the schooner within minutes.

Clark stepped back into the pilot house. "Bring us close enough along side that we talk to anyone aboard, maybe 20 yards?" Boatwright just knodded and began working the throttles, which were located near the wheel so one man could operate both. On these small sloops, there was no traditional engine room telegraph, but it also didn't really need one.

As the sloop crept closer to the Cherokee, Clark watched intently as the boarding party climbed aboard. His men, armed with revolvers and in the case of Chief Gomez, the more traditional boarding cutlass fanned out heading forward and aft along the deck, while one man remained with the launch. They moved efficiently. They'd done this before. Soon enough, Clark watched as the fore and aft teams went below, having found no one on deck.

The next four minutes were long for the CO of S-10, as he waited for his men to reappear on deck. When they did, one of his younger crewmen emerged from a hatch near the stern of the schooner and vomited over the side. "Uh oh." Clark though.

Gomez emerged a short time later. He was ashen. He took a moment to hook his cutlass to his belt, then cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled to Clark on the bridge of S-10. "Sir, I think you better come aboard and have a look! And I think you might want to take some photographs."

The boarding party caught lines tossed from the larger sloop as she maneuvered closer along side, eventually pulling the two ships together before tying them off. Clark stepped aboard the Cherokee. From closer up, he could see the holes in Cherokee's port side near the waterline. About the size of a man's fist, which might have been contributing to the list.

"Sir, It's not pretty in there...." Gomez warned as Clark stepped aft past the smoldering galley fire toward the ship's wheel and the ladder down. What he found below in the captains cabin would haunt him for the rest of his life. At first, it was hard to identify what he was seeing, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized he was seeing blood splattered across the floor, walls, ceiling, and furniture of the cabin, and the mutilated remains of at least seven adults including one woman, and two young children on the floor. Various parts were strewn all about the cabin. Under the drying blood he could just make out symbols written in white chalk. It was a grizzly, grizzly scene, and the smell was growing strong. These people had been dead for at least a day.

Clark stepped out of the cabin and swallowed hard. He'd seen the results of piracy on the Gulf before, going all the way back to his midshipman days serving with the Gulf patrol during his in-service summers. Still, this was something else. Worse.

"Chief..." His voice caught in his throat. "What else is there to report."

"Sir, there's a minor fire in the galley. I think it could have been a lot worse. The gas line to the stove was cut, but I think maybe they ran out of cooking fuel before long, so the fire sort of petered out. All the wooden surfaces in the galley have burned, but it could have been a lot worse. I think whoever did this..." gesturing toward the captain's cabin, "probably tried to start a fire to burn the ship, but that didn't work. They obviously didn't hang around long enough to be sure."

"The cargo?" Clark asked.

"We haven't found the manifest yet, though I suppose it could be in there." Again gesturing aft. "The hold isn't full, but it isn't empty either. Miscellaneous stuff like coffee beans, some rolled fabrics, that sort of thing. Nothing terribly valuable."

Clark looked into Gomez's eyes. He was by far the oldest man on the boat at thirty-six, and the most experienced. "Chief, what do you think?"

"Do you mean is this pirates? I don't know. It seems too personal for that, if you know what I mean. Who would do that to another person unless they had some reason?"

"How about the writing on the floor? Ever seen anything like that?"

Gomez just shook his head no.

"Well, my instinct is to go ahead and bury those people at sea, but we don't even know who they are yet. Either way, we'll have to tow this ship back to Key West I suppose. I feel bad leaving them the way they are." Clark looked back toward the cabin again and shuddered slightly.

"Sir, those people deserve a good Christian burial. I agree. But if we hadn't spotted that little plume of smoke, they'd still be adrift out here. I don't think another day or two to get them back to Key West will bother them too much."

"No I suppose not. Too bad we don't have a wireless set like those new boats Seaman Boatwright is so excited about. Let's rig a towline and get on with it then." Then Clark addressed the seaman carrying the bulky implements of photography. "Get a few pictures from the door to the cabin, please, then I want that room sealed. And someone put that fire in the galley out."

[Carthaginian]

Excellent start.
That Lt. Clark needs to have a lot of Panache to figure out this mystery.
:)

Wonder where this will lead...

[Tanthalas]

Excellent start.
That Lt. Clark needs to have a lot of Panache to figure out this mystery.
:)

Wonder where this will lead...

WAR WAR WAR, oh wait maybee not...

[The Rock Doctor]

This can't be good.

[Logi]

WAR WAR WAR, oh wait maybee not...

Doh! You got my hopes up too :(

[Desertfox]

I saw the location then read a bit and thought... Mary Celeste! But alas it was not to be. Guess we'll have to wait a few more years for the Bermuda Triangle to really get going.

[Guinness]

Well, now I've created a monster. I guess I'm writing mysteries now. :)

I'll try to veer away from too much procedural crime drama stuff.

Just to give away a giant hint: I don't think what happened to the Cherokee has any paranormal aspects too it, but I guess we'll see.

[Sachmle]

Bermuda triangle? Mystery? Really? The first thing that popped into my head was "THE EYE IS AT SEA!!" the 2nd thing was "Thank God I don't have to deal w/ them anymore...that's an American problem."

[Tanthalas]

Bermuda triangle? Mystery? Really? The first thing that popped into my head was "THE EYE IS AT SEA!!" the 2nd thing was "Thank God I don't have to deal w/ them anymore...that's an American problem."

Same for me LOL, I thought Thank god they are over there instead of over here

[Guinness]

Same for me LOL, I thought Thank god they are over there instead of over here

Be careful what you wish for....

I figure something exciting needs to happen in the western hemisphere every once in a while.

[Guinness]

Continued...

(OOC: sorry some necessary exposition here to glue things together with the installment that comes next. I'd written the first bit in a pique of slow work-day creativity, and now that I've figured out where it's going, this little bit seems necessary).

It took the S-10 the better part of a full twenty-four hours to tow the schooner Cherokee to Key West. Even under the best conditions, S-10 could barely make fifteen knots with her usually fouled bottom. Towing the Schooner she couldn't make much more than eight knots.

Lieutenant Clark ordered the crew back to normal watches for the trip, but few on the sloop slept during the night, including her commanding officer. He also stopped twice to allow the watch on the schooner itself to be changed. Despite Cherokee's slowly growing list, the trip was uneventful.

Late in the afternoon, as Sunset Key came into view, Clark turned to the signalman of the watch and ordered "run up the flags for 'towing vessel under distress' please. Hopefully that will help get someone's attention. I don't think we can muscle Cherokee up to the Navy Pier on our own, and I don't really want her to sink on us."

Once past Sunset Key, Clark ordered the sloop to come about to port to get out of the main shipping channel just to the west of Key West. He called across the placid blue water the short distance to Cherokee: "Drop anchor here, and we'll tie up alongside!" That operation was still underway when Clark spotted a Navy steam launch coming his way from the Navy Pier. "Good," he thought, "we did get someone's attention. The sooner this isn't my problem, the better."

The launch approached S-10 from the side opposite the schooner, lines were passed, and she tied up. Up the boarding ladder climbed a tall officer wearing the insignia of a Commander of the CSN on his dress whites. Clark reached out to help the CO of the 2nd Patrol Group, Commander Jacob Perry aboard.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" The Commander asked his subordinate in the time-honored fashion.

"Granted, sir." Clark replied while saluting smartly. Perry returned the solute crisply.

"So what do we have here, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, we found her about 190 miles out west-northwest. A small fire was burning aboard, there appears to significant damage from a reasonably large naval gun, and she had no sails rigged, and no one apparent on board. I sent a party aboard, and ultimately went aboard myself. On board we found what we assume to be the entire ship's complement, dead."

Perry barely blinked. "Cause of death?"

Clark just swallowed. Now standing alongside him, Chief Gomez answered for his skipper. "Sir, they appear to have been hacked to death with a sharp implement of some sort."

Clark looked to Gomez, then looked back at Clark. His expression had changed from one of professional annoyance with his dinner plans being interrupted to something else. "Is it bad?"

"Yes sir, very." Clark answered. "But you better look yourself."

The two officers and Chief Gomez made their way across to Cherokee where Clark showed Perry to ladder aft, and to the door to the captain's cabin.

"I had the cabin sealed after we took some photographs. It seemed best that way." Then he nodded to Gomez, who pried off the metal strap they'd screwed into the door to seal it shut. It was at that moment that it occurred to Clark that he probably should have provided for some ventilation. Even in February, the sun was quite warm in these waters.

As the door creaked open, the first thing the three men detected was the very strong odor of death. Perry recoiled almost immediately from the sight inside, and turned away. In a low voice, he ordered "Thank you, I think that's quite enough." Gomez swung the door shut again.

Back up on Cherokee's deck, Perry found his composure again. "The symbols, I assume you noticed them too?" he asked. Both of the other men simply nodded.

"Alright, you did the right thing. I need S-10 to stay here and keep this ship secured. I'll go ashore and get the ball rolling." Perry nearly ran to the boarding ladder and quickly climbed down to the launch, which then sped away in the fading light of day.

He returned over two hours later, this time in the company of two other men. The usual ritual of coming aboard was repeated.

"Lieutenant Clark, I'd like you to meet Inspector Leary of the Key West Police Department, and his partner..." he turned to the other man "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The other policeman answered "Jenkins sir. Detective Jenkins."

"Right, at any rate, as you know, it's now standard procedure to turn cases such as these over to local police."

Clark and Gomez repeated the procedure of leading the two policemen to the schooner's cabin, this time by torchlight. This time though, these men, while also visibly affected by the scene, also began to evaluate it with professional detachment. The first thing they did was ask for a second pair of men that had also come in the launch to get to work. These were the Key West Police's photographers -- a recent innovation.

It took more than an hour to photograph the scene to the satisfaction of the Inspector. While that was done, Detective Jenkins interviewed Clark and Gomez.

"So this was how you found it exactly?"

"Yes we didn't even really go in the cabin. I ordered photographs as well, but my men never went past the doorway." Clark answered.

"And where exactly did you find the ship?" Clark answered with latitude and longitude, to the best of his navigational abilities.

The questions went on at length. "Of course, I'll need to interview everyone who came aboard or had a good look at the ship." Jenkins noted.

"That's probably everyone, but my crew is at your disposal, of course." Clark answered.

When the photos were taken, the policemen finally could enter the cabin and begin their work there. Clark and Gomez waited outside, taking pains not to watch what the police were doing. When they emerged, they were themselves visibly affected by the experience. Leary said matter of factly: "Nine dead. Six men. One woman. Two children, both male." He looked down and muttered something under his breath, then looked up again at Clark. "Thank you gentlemen for your work here. The Key West Police will now take possession of the scene. Commander Perry told us that you'd be able to coordinate getting her tied up to a pier?"

"Yes sir. We'll need a tug though. We can have her tied up to the Navy Pier by morning."

"Excellent, but not the Navy Pier, the City Pier, if you would."

When he returned to the S-10's deck, he noticed that a tug was already waiting nearby. "Commander Perry, efficient as ever" he thought.

Tying Cherokee up was a simple matter, complicated by the water she was still taking on, and the darkness, and the first light of dawn was just beginning to show over Key West before S-10 began making her way to tie up herself at the Navy Yard. The crew was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Clark looked back to see large black bags being loaded into a horse-drawn wagon labeled "Lewis and Sons, Undertakers". He still didn't even know who these people were.

[Carthaginian]

Excellent writing... great descriptions.
Someone should get a 'good writing' award from the mods, IMO.

Can't wait for the next installment.

And wen the IC knowledge gets out, if the UNK can help, please relay the info.

[Guinness]

Continued...

Inspector Leary dutifully investigated the murders aboard the Cherokee, while skillfully keeping the grisly details out of the press. Among his first tasks was the day-long train trip north to St. Petersburg -- a marked improvement in the travel time that such a trip would have required before the railway to Key West was finished.

The Key West police had found no manifest or other paperwork aboard the Cherokee, nor any personal identification. So Leary had hoped that the owners of the ship, a concern called Tampa Bay Transhipment. He found that TBT was in fact majority owned and operated by by a man named Davis, and through one of the most difficult conversations of his professional career, discovered that those on-board Cherokee included Davis's son, wife, and two young sons, as well as the crew. Leary did his best to stick to the facts he needed so that he could make his exit as quickly as possible.

Davis told Leary: "They had made a trip to the DRM to pick up several small shipments of assorted goods."

"Did your son always took his family along?" Leary asked.

Davis replied: "They made an annual trip together in the winter most years, but generally, no, the family usually stayed home most of the rest of the time."

"Could they have had something more valuable aboard?" Leary asked.

"I can't say. It's always possible that they took on other cargo in port in the DRM." Davis replied.

Leary left the offices of Tampa Bay Transhipment after having left the card for Lewis and Sons, Undertakers in Key West so that Davis would know who to contact for the necessary arrangements. Leary purposefully avoided mentioning some of the most of the more sensational details of the crime, including the mysterious symbols written on the floor of the Captain's cabin.

The Key West Police investigation continued through February and much of March, before Leary, reluctantly, finished up the case file, and filed it with other cases that the Police considered unsolvable, but which they did not officially close either. The last bit of business he had to do before moving on to other cases was send a copy of case file's summary to the Confederate Justice Department, via their small office in the Customs House in Key West.

By then Commander Perry had also submitted a report via his chain of command to the Navy. His report would spend months winding through the Navy's organization before finally getting filed away, just another sporadic case of piracy it would seem. Leary's report, on the other hand, had a more fortuitous journey through the bureaucracy, as it was bundled up with other normal weekly correspondence, and sent directly to Richmond from Key West, where it crossed the desk of a low level Justice Department lawyer, one Charles Ivory Reilly. Reilly reviewed many such files as part of his work keeping an eye out for criminal cases of "national significance" as the statute put it, which usually meant in practice large bank robberies. Normally piracy cases were simply filed for later correlation.

Reilly took interest in this one though, only because of the certain sensational details of the crime, and because he knew that his old law school chum and weekly lunch companion, Percy LeVille might be interested. So come that Thursday when he went to meet LeVille at the lunch counter of Green's five and dime, he put the Cherokee file in his briefcase and brought it along.

The two dined as normal, Reilly having a chicken salad sandwich on wheat toast, and LeVille having roast beef with extra mustard and mayo on rye. Both had fountain mixed Coca-Cola. "The only way to drink Coke!" LeVille noted. They discussed the normal affairs of life, love, heartbreak, and the prospects of Richmond's baseball team in the new season.

After lunch, Reilly produced the file and handed to LeVille. "Here, this came across my desk this week. I thought it might interest you."LeVille flipped through the first few pages of written report before stopping at the pages on which the details of each victim's injuries were sketched out on outlines of human figures.

"My God!" He kept flipping, arriving at a copy of another hand drawn page, this time detailing the symbols on the floor of the cabin.

Reilly leaned over: "You see why I thought you'd want to see this." LeVille just nodded as he studied the symbols.

"I know you've been looking into cases from south of the border where things like this have been involved."

After returning from his trip to the DRM with "Smith" to meet Villa in 1914, LeVille had set out to try to discredit any idea that The Eye was again operating. Along the way he'd collected every report of especially heinous crimes and any report where various dark rituals might have been involved. The reports mostly came second hand via the Embassy in Tenochtitlan or the various consulates in the other major cities. He'd had a lot of difficulty coroborating the reports though with official DRM sources. In general they either denied the incidents ever happened, waved away the incident as "insignificant", or denied that anything other than an ordinary murder had happened. To LeVille, it seemed like the DRM was purposefully covering up.

When he'd taken that suspicion to his State Department superiors though, they'd dismissed him. "The DRM tells us they have taken every measure to wipe out the Eye within their borders, and we believe they have done so." was the official line.

"Thank you for this." LeVille stood up from the table and put a few bills for his meal under his glass. "I'm going straight back to the office to compile a new request. With any luck, I'll be on a train to Florida by Monday!"

[Carthaginian]

Why, exactly, would two men over the age of majority in Dixie be drinking Coca-Cola on a hot summer day? Would not a bottle of Sweetwater or Dixie be a more quenching solution to the heat? ;)

[Guinness]

Or Redbrick Blond...

It was lunch on a workday though. Uptight Baptists and all.

EDIT: Or Terrapin Brewing Company's Rye Ale. Yummy!