Indy leaned back. "While the Union forces were having a high old time rolling through Southern territory, not suffering a single casualty, the Rebs worked day and night at Olustee Station to put together one battalion of cavalry, which they hoped to use to bring the Union cavalry after them. If that ploy worked the Union forces would chase the Rebs straight into an ambush of Confederate artillery and infantry breastworks and be cut to pieces. That's what they hoped, anyway.
"One of the most important elements was how to operate in that countryside. It's almost all low-lying pine barren, swamps, streams, and hundreds of small lakes. If the Union forces were to advance deep into the Confederate defenses, they'd have to stay intact. The only way for them to do that was to keep along the rail lines and the dirt roads used for wagon transport."
"Did the cavalry of the South also have to remain along these railways and the roads?" Caitlin asked.
Indy shook his head. "Nope. The pine-barren country hasn't much going for it, but it's wide open for the most part. Easy enough for some smart cavalrymen to skirt the lakes and swamps and use the open country for full speed.
"The way things turned out, the Rebs had Clinch's Regiment, Georgia Cavalry, and also a regiment of the Florida Cavalry led by a Colonel Carraway Smith.
"They were, as I mentioned, terribly outnumbered. Coming after them would be the Union's Tenth Massachusetts Mounted Infantry, and the Stevens Battalion of Cavalry. All well equipped, well fed, heavily armed, and spoiling for a fight."
Indy pushed aside the charts. "The official records, however, make absolutely no mention of the gold that had already been landed by British men-of-war. They came to the Florida coast at night, the crews unloaded everything before daylight, and the British then sailed to the Caribbean in order to avoid Union warships.
"The point is, while the Confederates were doing everything possible to hold off the Union, they were also driving day and night to move the gold as far west as possible. The Union knew nothing of the gold shipment, and the Confederacy wanted to keep it that way. So their ranks were thinned out even more because they had to use every available horse and wagon, as well as mounted troops and a force on foot, to carry the gold."
"Indy, please," Gale interrupted. "What happened? How did it turn out?"
"It was back and forth for quite a while. The Rebel commanders sent out their cavalry on full-force cut-and-run strikes against the flanks of the Union army. Their plan was to slice deep into those ranks, and kill as many men as possible, but also kill off as many horses as they could and wreck Union artillery teams. That way, doing their best to fight off the concerted cavalry attack of the Rebs, the Union forces would be wide open to devastating fire from massed Rebel infantry and artillery."
"Did it work?" Gale persisted.
"Unfortunately, no," Indy replied, surprising his listeners.
"What happened?" Caitlin asked.
"Turned out the Rebel cavalry didn't know that country as well as they thought," Indy said. "They charged, all right, but they got bogged down in swamps, they broke ranks trying to get through, and they never managed to make the assault in full strength."
"So they lost, then," Gale judged.
Indy shook his head. "One thing about combat is that quite often a poor move turns out brilliandy. You see, the Union generals had figured out what the Rebels might do. They were all ready for the cavalry strike along their flanks. Had the Confederate cavalry attacked as planned, they would have been cut to pieces. Instead, their problems with the swamps broke them up into many small forces. This let them operate with greater speed in fast cut-and-run attacks. They'd sweep in from the pine barrens, let loose with everything they had, and then disappear into the woods. They hit the Union army so many times and so fast that they demoralized the Blues. In this way, they managed to carry out their original plan."
"You mean to lead the Union into a trap?" Gale queried.
"Bingo. The Rebs were raising such havoc, and inflicting so many casualties, that the Union commanders ordered their cavalry to cut them down at any cost. It cost them, all right. The moment the Rebs saw the powerful line of Union cavalry coming after them, they ran back to their own lines. The Union cavalry went after them hellbent for leather—right into the artillery and fortifications the Rebels had set up in the first place. They cut the Union cavalry to pieces. The Rebs regrouped their cavalry and led wild charges into the heart of the Union forces. The battle went on for several days, and when it was over, the North was in full retreat. For a while no one knew who was winning, but as it turned out, the Union took terrible casualties in their infantry, and without their own cavalry to protect them, the Yankees had to abandon most of their artillery, which the Rebels seized and used against them. When the battle was in full swing, and the Union was retreating, the Rebs had three times as much artillery, powder, and ammunition as they had when the battle started. So the South took the field, chewed up the Yankees, and ended up with a terrific victory."
"But the gold!" Gale exclaimed. "What happened to the gold?"
"Nobody knows," Indy said.
"That's it?" Gale said with disbelief. "The gold just disappeared?"
"Nothing ever really just disappears," Indy countered. "The best way to explain what happened to the gold is that whoever was involved in the mule trains carrying the gold was killed in battle, by Union cavalry who had no idea what they were carrying. And they never had the chance to stop and check things out, because as fast as they hit those wagon trains, they were set upon by Rebel cavalry. It was a running battle. No definite lines or anything like that. The main fighting kept moving back to the north as the Union was retreating, the Rebs hammering them with everything they had. The fighting, where the wagon trains were, was simply left behind. From what I was also able to determine, shortly after that battle, the weather turned terrible. Heavy rains and thunderstorms for several days. It made the ground virtually impassable. And since the enemy was on the run and the Confederacy was more interested in killing Yankees than in sending vital combat forces to see what was left of wagon trains, the whole thing was ignored—and then forgotten."
"What you have just said," Caitlin responded to Indy's recitation of the past battles, "may be of great value to me."
Indy studied the woman; she seemed strangely confident. "How so?" he inquired.
"The ground across which we shall travel," Caitlin said slowly and deliberately, "clearly still harbors the metal debris of the struggles. Debris, and the skeletons of the forgotten dead. They are more than broken bones. They suffered, they died terribly, and the psyche from these men was intense. That is energy. It is never lost. It will be possible to detect what happened in the past. That may help guide us to what we seek. I am certain Cordas is no amateur and he certainly is no fool. He may have already learned just what you have described to us. So now we know what path he must take. It is a journey we will share."
Carruthers moved closer and spoke to Indy. "May I ask a question?" Indy nodded. "Do I understand from what Miss St. Brendan has just said that the spirits of the dead will help her find what you're looking for?"
"Correct," Indy answered, smiling.
"I don't understand." Carruthers was honestly perplexed by everything he'd heard, most especially by Caitlin's words.
"Let me put it another way," Indy told him. He started to speak, stopped, and turned to Caitlin. "I shouldn't speak for you."
Caitlin surprised him. Her eyes seemed to glow with delight. "I am fascinated by what you might say, Indy. Please." She gestured for him to continue. "Your opinion, how you judge all this, can mean much in what is yet to come."
Indy nodded and turned to Carruthers. "Keep one point always in mind," he began. "We're going to be traveling through an area that's just about drenched in the metal and other debris of the battles. Musket balls, the muskets themselves, all kinds of artillery, the metal structure of wagons, shoes for horses and mules, metal canteens, uniform insignia... But there's more than physical debris
. Picture those battles. Hundreds of men shattered by bullets and bayonets, screaming in agony, dying slowly.
"Something like that leaves a psychic effect. I don't care if scientists can't quantify it. It is there. It affects people, affects animals. Some people are extraordinarily sensitive to the psychic aura that remains after a battle. Ever have a hunch? You can't tell what it is, you don't know what it is, but you feel something that's disturbing, that grabs your attention and won't let go."
Carruthers found himself torn between his own dogma of "seeing is believing" and what he was hearing from Indy. "This effect, what you call psychic," he asked carefully, "is it only a sense, or a feeling, or can it be something physical?"
Indy laughed. "I'll tell you right now, it not only can be physical, it can knock you head over heels. At Stonehenge, for example, I stood at a specific spot where the energies are supposed to come together. I used a two-foot antenna that was supposed to collect the energies."
"What happened?"
"It was like being hit with a bolt of lightning," Indy said soberly. "A blinding flash and then I was hurled from the car. Like being swatted by a huge invisible hand. I didn't try it again. The point is, there's a link between the past and the present. It's there at Stonehenge. It's powerful at Avalon, where King Arthur is believed to have held court."
"Mr. Carruthers," Gale broke in. "The Olustee battlefield is like a psychic magnetic storm. And Caitlin is attuned to that kind of energy. She could move through empty ground, open fields, with her eyes closed, and feel what happened in the past."
"The whole thing is incredible," Carruthers answered finally.
Indy reached into a pocket of his jacket. "Well, there's more than one way to look back through time." His words drew their immediate attention. "I can also see through the ground. I use the Jones Unique and Wonderful Underground Detector." He held up a circular metal object and flipped open the top to reveal an extremely sensitive magnetic compass, the needle floating in watch-lubricating oil. "This thing will pick up just about any metallic object as deep as ten feet below the ground surface. It may not be magic, but it works."
A bell rang in the passenger compartment. Judson went forward to talk with the pilots then returned. "We start down in ten minutes. The pilots would like everybody to take their seats and secure their seat belts."
Barrett and Silber brought the Sikorsky down on feathery wings. They checked the wind direction across the river and settled the flying boat down. As the Sikorsky settled, the hull threw back a foamy cascade on each side of the cabin, leaving no doubt that they were now in a boat rather than an airplane.
Several minutes later the pilots eased the S-38 alongside a mooring dock; an army team secured tie lines.
One hour later Indy, Gale, and Caitlin were driving southward toward the ghostly battlefields.
22
Loaded down with weapons, maps and charts, cans of water and provisions for several weeks, Indy and his two companions drove into increasingly wild and remote country. Small towns and communities became more distant until they had gone for miles without seeing another human being. The pine country seemed abandoned by nature itself with stunted brush and sparse tree growth. Only hordes of biting insects kept them aware that they were still in an alive and angry world.
"This is like traveling back in time." Gale lowered powerful binoculars and turned to Indy. "I've been in desolate areas before, but this place, well, it's like no one ever lived here."
"They did," Indy offered in answer. "Seminole Indians, Spanish explorers, and even the first settlers moving down from the Georgia hills. Of course they were pretty well spread out. The kind of people who settled here, farmers and lumbermen for the most part, liked the empty spaces. Their idea of being crowded was to have some neighbors less than a couple miles away from where they lived."
"There are others here," Caitlin remarked.
"Tell me," Indy prompted.
"The birds. Look about you. I recognize many, of course, especially the crows and ravens. And in the distance, at times, vultures," Caitlin said.
"And that's to say nothing of snakes, armadillos, raccoons, possum, field mice, woodchucks, foxes, lizards, well, it's an amazing list. What's missing are the people," Indy added.
"There were many here before," noted Caitlin, surveying the countryside. "You only need to look in order to see. It has been how many years?"
"About sixty-six years since the last great battles," Indy answered.
"Those trees, over there." Caitlin pointed. "All this time and many trunks are still splintered. The way they are broken tells how they were struck. The poison of so much lead and gunpowder leaves its mark. That hillside, to our right? Torn away by terrible explosions. And more recently, many fires."
"The last one is common enough," Indy said quickly. "They get a long stretch without rain and everything dries up. It's like a tinderbox. Heavy weather rolls in, lightning hits all around, and before you know it, half the countryside is burning. If the wind is strong, the fires go on for mile after mile."
"But there is something else," Caitlin said, her eyes narrowing. "It is what I feel. Many have died here. I felt much the same hushed cry of voices when I visited the Holy Lands where the Crusades were fought. Here, all about us. It is as if the dead were still calling for a final reckoning."
"Maybe they are," Indy said, not wanting to voice his own feelings on the matter. He pushed the issue to something more positive. "That list of animals I gave you before?" he offered. "Remember, that's just the small stuff. This country is also well populated with larger creatures."
"We talked about that before," Gale came into the exchange. "You mentioned bears—"
"Mainly black bears. Not as big as the northern animals, but they're fast and can be dangerous," Indy cautioned.
"You said there were wild boar here?" Caitlin asked.
Indy nodded. "Wild boar. And the panthers. Also called cougars. Some are all black, others brown. There are wildcats. Tough as nails and they'll tackle just about anything."
"And"—Gale shuddered—"alligators."
"They stay pretty close to the wetlands," Indy explained.
"There are very few people," Caitlin mused.
"More than you'd expect," Indy told her. "Indians, for the most part. Like the gators, they're mainly in the wetlands and the swamps."
"We will be alert," Caitlin said.
"Indy, you've been doing this for years," Gale said. "Looking for ancient things. Forget the scientist part of yourself for the moment. What do you feel happened to the gold?"
Indy didn't answer immediately. He'd thought about it often enough, but understanding historical events was tricky. You had to try to think as did the people in the bygone times, and that sounded a lot easier than it really was. More often than not, the researcher had to follow the same trail a dozen or even a hundred times to separate fact from supposition.
Indy had to figure in the Confederate victory at Ocean Pond and Olustee Station. Even victorious, the Confederates were aware of how precarious was their position, especially if the Union knew they had a hoard of bullion in their hands. If that were discovered, Lincoln's army would overrun them like an avalanche.
"The Rebs would do everything they could to make the gold invisible," he said. "And their best bet would be to bury it."
"Sounds sensible," Gale agreed.
"But it has its pitfalls," Indy cautioned. "If you bury something, you need to dig deep and make certain the exact burial spot can be found in the future. The Rebs didn't have the luxury of time. Their need was either to deliver the gold to New Orleans or to get it out of sight. But they had another option. And that was to leave it so clearly in sight, blending in with everything around it, that you could walk through the area where it was hidden, stare right at it, and never see it."
Gale smiled. "That's something that Caitlin can do. But I don't know if the Confederacy employed witches."
"We'll see what we can see," Indy said n
oncommittally. The truck slammed over some deep ruts, bouncing them around, then came to a stop. Indy pointed ahead. "It's the end of the road. We can't go any farther in this thing. Too many tree stumps, marshy ground. Our best bet is to secure this truck and leave it here if we need it to get back to Port Jacksonville."
Caitlin was already gathering her material, checking her backpack. She waited for Indy and Gale to do the same.
"Hold it," Indy ordered the two women when they were ready. He reached back into the truck and withdrew three pairs of thick leather leggings. "Put these on," he said, demonstrating by securing them to his legs from his ankles to his knees. "A rattler or copperhead or water moccasin can hit you before you can see it coming. Their fangs won't go through this leather."
Leggings on, backpacks secure, they were ready to begin their arduous walk. Once again Indy paused as an idea came to him. He dug through the tool supply kit, removed a roll of heavy wire, and stuffed it into his pack.
"What's that for?" Gale asked.
"Just an idea," Indy said mysteriously.
The eight miles became ever more difficult as underbrush and tree growth thickened. The long open barren pines had changed through the years. "Whatever they saw back in 1864 sure isn't the same," Indy growled. "All this, according to the maps, was just open land. Nothing like these trees. And the ground—"
"I know," Gale said, trying not to limp from pulled muscles in her left foot. "I expected rough ground, but those traps—"
"Gopher holes," Indy corrected.
"You mean these are natural?"
"Furry little critters. Gophers. They dig tunnels like mad all around us. And gopher turtles," Indy added.
Both women stared at him. "Gopher turtles?" they chorused.
"Right."
Indiana Jones and the White Witch Page 22
