Chapter Three

USS Core
August 16, 1942

My Dearest Irene,

All of your letters came in one huge bundle on the mail plane.  I finally got enough time off duty to sit and read them today.  

Your sweet words make me miss you all the more.  The closer we cruse into the fray the more I long for the comfort of you kisses.  I lie alone every night recalling the warmth and softness of your embrace.  I ache to be near you.

I am so happy to have some word from you at last.  I know you will be much happier near my family.  I knew my mother would welcome you with open arms.  She always wanted a daughter to dote on.  

I am sorry that this letter is so very short, but I have to report for duty again.

I love you with all my heart and can't wait to be home with you.

Forever Yours,
Howard
 
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        The Campus Cup had been quiet for almost two hours, and April was taking advantage of the lull to get paperwork done before leaving for the day.  She'd gotten so buried in it that she had lost track of the time.  Kylie, one of her employees, had to call twice before she got April's attention.
        "Ms. Roberts, there's a lady here to see you," Kylie said, poking her head inside the office door.
        Lady to see me?  What was Kylie talking about, she wondered as she came out of her little cubby hole.  She couldn't help but chuckle at Kylie when she saw the "lady" was Sandy.  
        "Give me just a minute more, Sandy and we'll be out the door," she smiled as she went back to the office to put away her work and get the chest.  She had been stifling her excitement all day, but now that she was leaving work, she let the anticipation bubble up to the surface.
        "My aren't we giddy this afternoon," Sandy commented as April returned with a huge smile lighting her face.
        "Yes I am and not afraid to admit it," April declared.  "I can't even begin to tell you how much time I've spent wondering what's inside.  I just hope Dr. Claiborne doesn't tell me he can't risk opening it.  I don't think I can stand to extend the suspense any further."
        "At this point, neither can I," Sandy chuckled.  "You've got my curiosity burning.  I also can't wait to see the look on old Claiborne's face when he realizes what you've brought him.  I just hope the old man doesn't soil himself."
        "Sandy, you're awful!"  
        April couldn't help but laugh at the image Sandy suggested.  Her sense of humor was one of several reasons they had become friends in the first place.  Sandy had such an amazing grasp of the ridiculous.  Once she got to laughing, no one could help laughing along with her.
      There wasn't anyone other than Patrick that April wanted more at the moment than Sandy.  Not only did Sandy share he love of history and discovery, she was an absolute genius with old documents.  Where April had a passion for the discovery of the puzzle pieces and putting them together, Sandy was passionate about preserving the pieces for future generations to discover and experience.  If her hopes of finding documents inside the little chest were fulfilled, she wanted Sandy there to ensure everything was in good condition and remained so.
    The walk across the campus passed quickly as the two friends chattered away.  April needed to vent some of her excitement before crossing Dr. Clayborne's threshold.  The last thing she wanted was to be acting like a giddy school girl in the presence of the venerable anthropologist.
    "I'm beginning to think that you aren't simply excited about what might be in that chest of yours," Sandy remarked as April took a deep calming breath.  "Does he still make you that nervous?"
    "I thought I had outgrown it after all this time, but I guess not," April responded sheepishly.
    Nothing short of hero worship could adequately describe how April felt about Dr. James Clayborne.  Ever since reading his papers as part of her course work, she dreamed of pursuing a serious career in anthropology.  Meeting with him today reminded her that she had given up on that dream for a nice safe little job.  Dr. Clayborne himself had encouraged her to stay with it, but, thanks to her mother's influence, she had not had the courage to pursue it once she'd finished her undergraduate degree.  Now she was reminded of how much she felt like she'd disappointed him, how much she was disappointed in herself.
    Overriding all of that, was the intense desire to learn more about her grandmother's chest, and what might lie inside.  Dr. Clayborne was the only person she know of that could help her find those answers.
    April took another deep breath, stood straight as an arrow, and smiled confidently at Sandy.
    "It wouldn't matter if the man gave me hives, I have to open this chest," April declared.
    Sandy had to stifle a giggle as they walked into the outer office.
    "Ms. Roberts and Ms. Ericson to see Dr. Clayborne.  He's expecting us," April addressed the efficient looking secretary.
    "I'll announce you," she responded as she rose from her desk.  Dr. Clayborne was very set in his ways and detested the impersonal touch of technology.  Hence, his secretary was constantly trotting back and forth from her desk to his for every little thing. 
    "He'll see you now," she announced and help open the door for them to enter.
    "Thank you," April smiled as they passed.
    Stepping into the inner sanctum of Dr. James Clayborne was like stepping back in time to the early 20th century.  The room was full of antique furnishings, all manner of artifacts and relics, and books lining the walls from floor to ceiling.  In the middle of it all, sitting at a grand old desk, was a dapper old man in a vintage suit straight out of "Indiana Jones."
    Sandy and April waited just inside the door until he looked up from his work.
    He raised his gaze and smiled, "Why, April, I haven't seen you in quite some time.  Do come in."
    Both crossed the room and took the seats facing Dr. Clayborne's desk.  As she sat, April cradled the chest in her lap.
    "What have you there, my dear," quizzed the old man over the top of his reading glasses.
    "A family treasure, I think.  My mother and I found it in my grandmother's home.  I was hoping you might tell me what you thought about the markings on it," she answered, not wanting to reveal too much too quickly.  Better to let his own curiosity lead the way.
    "Your Grandmother, Irene," he asked.
    "Yes, sir."
    "I was so sad to hear she had passed on.  She was a lovely woman, and will be missed."
    "Thank you, sir."
    "Well, bring it here and let's have a look."
    As April rose to bring him the chest, he shuffled his papers aside and turned his attention to Sandy.
    "I hear Professor Miller acquired some very interesting photos and documents by Flagler himself on the construction of the railroad.  How goes the restoration and conservation?"
    "It's coming along nicely, sir.  I have had the pleasure of handling several letters written by hand from Mr. Flagler.  They were in excellent condition and needed little done to them before archiving them.  I'm not sure the photos were in as good a condition, though."
    He smiled and nodded, his sign that he'd heard enough on that subject, and turned his full attention to the little wooden chest April had set before him.  At first he just looked it over.  "HHHmmmmmmm" and "Uh huh . . . " was all he would say at first.
    "Where did you say you found this," he finally asked.
    "The attic of Grandma Irene's house in boca," April answered.
    "Any idea how she came to have it?"
    "No, sir.  She had never mentioned it to Mom or me."
    "Not at all like Irene.  She was always so eager to share about the wonderful things she'd acquired during her travels."
    "That's just it, sir.  She always put the things she collected on display.  We found this tucked in a forgotten corner of the attic.  It doesn't fit in with any of the things she was usually interested in."
    "Then why would you call it a family treasure?"   
    "Because it's part of old Charleston's history and she was from a very old Charleston family.  She tended to collect things that had sentimental meaning to her.  But she wasn't at all sentimental about this or her own family.  I can't help but wonder if there is a connection between the two," April explained.
    Sure it was the flimsiest logic she ever dared argue, but how else could she explain something that was only a gut feeling so far?
    "Let's work from this piece and see if your hunch bears out, then."  He knew her way of thinking all too well.  "The wood is right to have been native to the area at the time.  Part of the reason for the thriving ship building industry at Charles Towne was the abundance of hardwoods.  The metal working on the strapping and the lock is also consistent.  The chest itself shows the proper signs of aging and wear to be as old as the markings would purport.  The carving itself seems to be contemporary with the creation of the chest."  There he trailed off for a moment, studying the markings above the lock.
    April sat quietly, but the suspense was killing her.  Was the chest really in the neighborhood of 300 years old or just a lovely fake?  She was about to speak when a soft knock sounded upon the door.
    "Yes," Dr. Clayborne responded as he looked up.
    His secretary stuck her head inside the door.  "Professor Worley is here to see you.  He says the ladies had invited him to join them."
    "Thank you, Deirdre.  Show him in."
    "Yes, sir," she said before disappearing.
    The door opened fully and patrick entered.  He stood at full attention just inside the door and waited to be acknowledged.
    "Come in, Worley, my boy.  I was wondering when you would show up."
    "I would have arrived with April and Sandy, sir, but I had to finish meeting with some of my students."
    "Quite alright.  Take a chair from over in the corner and come join us.  I was just taking a look at April's fine little treasure."
    Patrick took a chair from the indicated corner and placed it in between Sandy and April.  As he sat, he greeted Sandy and then turned a lingering smile on April.  After having a good look at the chest that morning, he was certain that Dr. Clayborne was about to turn up something very interesting.  He was glad he hadn't missed anything.
    Dr. Clayborne cleared his throat.  "Well, my dear children, I see nothing to indicate that his is anything less than an authentic piece from the period."
    Smiles spread across all the faces in the room.
    "What intrigues me most is this josiah Smith.  The name strikes a familiar chord, but the reason eludes me at the moment.  Worley, my boy," he addressed the younger man. 
    "Yes, sir," Patrick responded as he snapped to attention in his seat.
    "Fetch me that old leather volume on the top shelf," he continued and pointed to the wall of books behind him.
    Patrick immediately hopped up to do as he was told.
    "This red one, sir," Patrick verified.
    "Yes, that's the one.  Bring it here."
    Patrick laid the book on the desk and quietly resumed his seat.
    April was awed by the little scene.  Patrick would never have suffered being ordered around like that from anyone else.  His behavior spoke volumes about the great respect he had for the good doctor.  She pondered on for a moment more before the rustling of pages brought her attention back to Dr. Clayborne.  His reading glasses were again perched on his nose as he leafed through his reference materials.
    He paused for a moment on a particular page before exclaiming, "Ah, ha!  I knew that name was familiar."
    The three friends leaned forward in expectation.
    "According to this, Smith was no ordinary tradesman.  He was the Master Shipwright for the Bellamy Shipbuilders.  That means he was in charged of the design and construction of the ships that sailed from the Bellamy Yards.  I would be willing to wager that further research would show that making little trinkets like this one was a hobby of his.  He probably would have presented them as gifts to friends and family.  That would account for the prominent placement of the craftsman's mark.  You can be certain that whoever this originally belonged to was someone from the highest ranks of society in the Carolina Colony."
    Amazement played across the faces of his little audience.  April's mind reeled with the thought that not only was the piece authentic, but it came with a pedigree.
    "Have you any idea of the contents, April," Dr. Clayborne queried.
    "No, sir.  It's locked tight, and I didn't want to risk damaging it by tampering with it."
    "I should be able to help you there as well.  Worley, go fetch my tools from the lab down the hall.  And bring some of the cotton gloves for everyone."
    As before, Patrick quickly complied and left the room.  Sandy noticed that April was holding her breath in anticipation.  She patted April on the arm and smiled, hoping that April would relax.  April took a deep breath and settled back into her seat a bit.  After such significant revelations, it would be a shame to find only grandma's napkins inside.
    Patrick was back in moments with the leather bound set of tools and several pairs of white cotton gloves.  He handed each of the ladies a pair and noticed that April looked very tense in spite of her efforts to relax.  He willed there to be something worthwhile inside the precious little wooden chest.
    For several moments Dr. Claybore's skilled hands worked delicately at the lock.  The mechanism was fairly simple, especially by today's standards, but he worked very carefully to prevent any damage to the patina on the lock.  Then, with a snap, the lid popped up from the body of the chest.  April gasped and jumped up from her chair.  She bolted around the desk to look over Claybore's shoulder.  Sandy and Patrick also came around the desk to see what might be inside.  Dr. Clayborne waited until all three had put the gloves on before he slowly raised the lid.  Patrick placed a gloved hand in the middle of April's back.  She looked so wound up, he was afraid she might faint any moment.  April had to stuff her fist in her mouth to stifle a yelp as she saw what she was hoping for.  The chest was stuffed full of old paper.