Page 60 of Camino Ghosts

“I would never call it luck.”

“Oh, I think they were all lucky to find this place. They were not slaves here. They fought and killed the white men who came after them, and they protected each other.”

“Now the white men are back,” Mercer said.

“Indeed they are. This time they’re using money and lawyers and courts to take this island, not guns. But we’ll win, won’t we, Diane?”

“I believe so.”

Lovely reached for her cane. “Let’s walk on the beach while the sun is behind those clouds.”

The sand was firmer at the edge of the water and they took off their boots. Lovely used the cane with her right hand and held on to Mercer’s arm with her left.

But the walking was too strenuous and they turned around. Back at the campsite, they heard the distant whine of a chain saw.

13.

The scariest thing about a diamondback was not the venomous fangs, but the rattle itself. The rattle meant only one thing—the diamondback saw or heard you before you saw it. The rattle meant the snake was upset, frightened, ready to protect itself. If you were lucky and saw the snake soon after hearing the rattle, you could move away, give it plenty of room. But when you heard the rattle but couldn’t find the snake, well, that was the scariest part.

After hearing two rattles but no sightings, the team was on edge. They took a water break and rested on the trunk of a fallen oak, listening for snakes. Dr. Gilfoy took a drink, wiped his mouth with a sleeve, and saw something in a pile of rotted timbers thirty feet away. It had the glint of metal. Holding a shovel, he walked to the pile and moved some debris. Carefully, he picked up a two-foot section of cut board partially rotted and covered with mud.

“It’s a hinge!” he announced with excitement. The other five quickly gathered around to inspect it. They had found the first sign of civilization.

“A three-inch butt hinge for a door,” one said.

“Antique cast iron,” said another.

“Could it be a cabinet hinge?”

“No, not at three inches. It’s too big.”

“Steeple finial. Definitely a door hinge.”

“How old?”

“A hundred years.”

“Yeah, early nineteen hundreds.”

They passed it around so everyone could touch and feel it. A rare diamond would not have been more precious.

Dr. Sargent said, “Well, we now know that a hundred years ago there was a dwelling close by and it was advanced enough to have butt hinges on its doors.” He pointed and said, “If you look at the tree line there you’ll see that the terrain rises. Lovely said the cemetery was on the highest part of the island. If the houses were around here, might the cemetery be up there?”

“I like it,” Dr. Pennington said.

“Let’s give it a try.”

For an hour they hacked and cut a trail to the top of a slight elevation and stopped at a small clearing choked with weeds and thick scrub brush. Lovely had said there were no trees in the cemetery. The gap in the woods might possibly be the site. They cut and cleared for another hour, found nothing, and stopped for lunch.

Dr. Sargent walked behind a thick tree to relieve himself. In a grove of saplings he noticed a row of indentations, all covered with grass, each about two feet from the next. Lovely had said there were no headstones to mark the graves because there were no stones or rocks on the island. Each grave had a small wooden cross with no name on it.

Sargent said, “I think these might be graves.”

The dig was on.

14.

With ample sunlight left, they decided to call it a day and return to camp. The last thing they needed to worry about was getting lost in the dark. They left their chain saws, shovels, and other tools under a tree with a bright blue tarp over it. They kept the machetes and handgun to deal with the diamondbacks. Dr. Gilfoy had a small can of orange paint and sprayed trees along their return route. Now that they knew the way, the walk took thirty minutes.

---