Missing Witness (14 page)

Isaac Joppa knew he was still alive. And he knew he was near the ocean because he could hear the crashing of the surf off in the distance. He was on his stomach, his face in the sand and pine needles. He did not know how long he had lain there. When his mind cleared, he looked around. He saw that he was in a hut with a curved roof, like a tiny barn covered with animal skins.

His back was in searing pain where the pistol ball had entered. Then he was aware of someone delicately tending to his wound. The person he could not see was gingerly putting something—something cold and mud-like—into it. Whatever it was, it was giving off an evil smell.

There was a movement at Isaac's side. Then a person was next to him, brushing the hair from his eyes with slender, nimble fingers.

Isaac looked and saw a pretty, young Indian girl looking back at him and smiling. She could not have been more than seventeen or eighteen years old. She had long, braided black hair decorated with seashells.

She got up and left the hut. Isaac could smell a fire burning somewhere. Then the girl returned with a crude wooden bowl. It contained cooked fish, a bed of large green leaves, and multicolored berries.

Isaac was suddenly aware that he was weak with hunger—he did not know how long he had been unconscious. He reached over and thrust his fingers into the food and began scooping it frantically into his mouth, which made the Indian girl laugh.

Isaac tried a question, hoping that she could speak some English.

“Where am I?”

“Camp,” the girl replied. “Camp of Tuscaroras.”

“How did I get here?”

The girl squinted her eyes and tilted her head. Isaac repeated the question again. Then she smiled a little in recognition and left the tent again. After a few minutes she returned with a large broken plank and showed it to Isaac.

Curious about it, he reached out and turned it over.

There was a large carving of a fish, and to the left of it, the letters of a portion of the name of the vessel—
LD VENTURE
—carved and painted. It was the name plaque off the ship
Bold Venture
.

Isaac was beginning to recall what had happened. There was a battle. He was down in the hold of Teach's ship. The Royal Navy brought its ship alongside. Teach's ship fired on it with its cannons. It looked as if the English sailors had been pulverized, so Teach ordered his ship,
Adventure
, to come up alongside the English naval vessel and board her.

But when he did, sailors who had been hiding in the English ship's hold poured up onto the deck, firing pistols and charging the pirates with drawn swords.

At some point in the melee, Teach screamed out an order to one of his crew members aboard
Bold Venture
, which was cruising alongside.

Teach called out for
Bold Venture
to be scuttled. It was the ship that Teach had looted, and then commandeered during his rampage along the Spanish Main.

A few minutes after Teach's order, the crewmen had lit the fuse leading to a barrel of gunpowder and a hole was blown in the hull of
Bold Venture
. The vessel quickly sank.

Caesar, the large, muscular African who was one of Teach's most trusted assistants, was given the same order—to scuttle and sink the ship
Adventure
if he determined that the English were likely to win.

But several local merchants who had been sleeping off a drunken orgy hosted for them aboard the
Adventure
by Teach, awoke and discovered the plan. As Caesar tried to light the gunpowder barrel in the hold of the ship with his torch, the three passengers jumped him. As Isaac mounted the steps to go on deck, Caesar was engaged in a ferocious struggle with the three visitors.

When Isaac had finally charged up the stairs and onto the deck, he had seen in an instant that the pirates were outnumbered and outmatched. He
had known he could not surrender. Escape was the only option. He jumped off the ship, and into the ocean.

As he swam, he had been shot in the back. He had struggled to swim but began lapsing into unconsciousness and started sinking. That's when a piece of the
Bold Venture
floated up next to him.

Isaac had grabbed the plank and struggled to lay his torso onto it. As the waters of the Pamlico Sound washed over him in a strange baptism of survival, Isaac Joppa had blacked out.

He studied the wooden board and the pretty Indian girl's face. Now he understood what had happened. Somehow he had managed to cling to the wood plank. The Indians had found him and tended to his wounds. They had been his salvation.

But Isaac Joppa would soon learn that his miraculous rescue might be short-lived—that he had survived the ferocious battle at Ocracoke Inlet only to face, now, an even more daunting fate.

19

I
N THE COMMERCIAL TOWER
in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina, the law firm of MacPherson, Trump, and Powers resided on the top floor. There, attorney Virgil MacPherson was ruminating on the Joppa case. His private investigators had done a background check on Will Chambers. They had also informed MacPherson about Fiona Chambers' pregnancy. Now MacPherson was laying out his attack.

Lying in front of him on the shiny walnut conference table was the first set of written discovery demands by attorney Chambers on behalf of Reverend Jonathan Joppa, addressed to Terrence Ludlow in care of his legal counsel.

MacPherson was flipping through the pages of the interrogatories and demand for documents that had been served.

Will Chambers' request for information centered around three categories of evidence:

First, he wanted to know any information possessed by MacPherson or his client relating to Isaac Joppa's guilt or innocence on piracy charges.

The second category related to any information that MacPherson or Ludlow had regarding “Stony Island, aka Joppa's Island,” including its history of ownership, any of its physical features, or any buildings, structures, or artifacts located thereon.

Lastly, he demanded any information or documents that MacPherson and his client might possess “regarding Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard, including, but not limited to any information relating to his life, his conduct, or any contact between the said Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard, and Isaac Joppa.”

The first category of information didn't pose a problem to MacPherson. He could easily enough play dodgeball with that one simply by responding, in writing, that they had no information or evidence tending to indicate that Isaac Joppa was innocent—to the contrary, the existence of an indictment
issued by a grand jury in Bath, on or about the year of 1717, was strong evidence of Isaac Joppa's guilt.

However, when MacPherson studied the demand for discovery relating to evidence or information about “Stony Island, aka Joppa's Island,” he balked. He knew, on a strictly technical level, that his formal and official client was Terrence Ludlow—not Blackjack Morgan. As such, Ludlow possessed no information about Stony Island or Joppa's Island.

In fact, MacPherson had concluded that his client possessed little or no knowledge of anything remotely resembling useful information, facts, or practical intelligence on any useful subject other than serving drinks at Joppa's Folly—and causing himself to be cited for a variety of misdemeanor criminal offenses.

On the other hand, MacPherson had met numerous times with Blackjack Morgan. He knew that Morgan was pulling all the strings on the case, paying the bills, and calling the shots.

He also knew, more to the point, that Morgan was engaged in a highly profitable drug-running operation on the coast of North Carolina, consisting of deliveries by boat at points from Cape Lookout all the way down to Wrightsville Beach. He knew that because Morgan had paid him well to represent him when he was the target of a grand jury investigation into drug operations in the Cape Hatteras area. Morgan, once again, had escaped unscathed. The local prosecutors had not had sufficient evidence to charge him.

In a strange twist of fate, in fact, it had been Judge Bull Chambers—Will Chambers' uncle—who had signed the search warrant that had authorized the police to ransack Morgan's home. They had found nothing—but the search had enraged Morgan. MacPherson wondered if Will Chambers knew that obscure bit of background. The Raleigh lawyer had gained enough information through his client conferences with Morgan to know that when it came to drug dealing, Morgan was as guilty as sin. Moreover, the lawyer had been able, himself, to piece together the reason why Morgan was so bent on winning legal title to Stony Island.

He had guessed that Stony Island was a strategic outpost. If Morgan was able to obtain possession of the island, he could use it as a dropoff and pickup point for his drug operations. Its location could enable Morgan to operate his drug ring relatively unnoticed and unhindered. If the island were entirely within Morgan's ownership, the local police would need a warrant to enter the island in order to search it. By the time they arrived with any warrant, Morgan would be able to hide or destroy any drugs.

Furthermore, the island was closed to the open Atlantic waters. Ironically, it provided the same shelter that made the Outer Banks, with their inner recesses of the Pamlico Sound, a favorite of Edward Teach, the pirate.

Without question, MacPherson had no intention of revealing that information to Will Chambers. Nor, considering the strict confines of the discovery demand, would he be required to.

His job was to win the case and permit Morgan to enforce his assignment of interest to the island. What Morgan did with the island after that, MacPherson had callously concluded, was none of the attorney's business.

But, as to the third category—the request by Will Chambers for any information dealing with “Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard,” that was another matter.

A few days earlier, Morgan had sat in MacPherson's office and asked him a very cryptic question: “Supposing I came across something very old, an artifact, in the ocean, and it gave me some indication as to where Blackbeard's treasure was buried.” As Morgan spoke his head was tilted backward, his eyes half closed. “Suppose that happened—is it possible for me to get a copyright on that information so that no one can use it except me?”

MacPherson had chuckled a little at the question—until he studied the stern, intent look on Morgan's face. Then he knew he was deadly serious.

MacPherson told his client there was no way he could copyright an artifact—at least he didn't think so, though he'd never researched the issue and had never encountered it in his practice before. After that, Morgan had stopped asking questions about Blackbeard, his buried treasure, and artifacts that might give a clue as to where it was hidden.

MacPherson suspected that Morgan had come across something—but he didn't know for sure. In any event, in responding to Will Chambers' discovery request, he would simply try to bury him in paperwork. He would send him a copy of every book, pamphlet, news article, and Internet story dealing with “Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard.” He knew that there was almost no likelihood that Chambers would find anything useful in that information, at least regarding the innocence or guilt of Isaac Joppa.

Meanwhile, MacPherson would studiously avoid asking any further questions of either of his clients, Ludlow or Morgan, regarding Edward Teach or his treasure. That would insulate him from any duty to produce information to Chambers.

He pushed a button on his desktop and began dictating a letter:

Dear Mr. Chambers:

I'm in the process of giving you a full and complete response to your interrogatories and demand for documents in the case of
Joppa v. Ludlow,
as an ancillary proceeding in the matter of the estate of Randolph Willowby. I would appreciate you giving me a few extra days to complete our exhaustive response.

As promised, you will find me most accommodating and thorough in my responses to your requests for information.

Warmest professional regards,
Virgil MacPherson

After his dictation, MacPherson smiled and spoke to the empty room.

“And, Mr. Chambers, I hope you and your pregnant wife enjoy your summer at the beach.”

20

J
ONATHAN
J
OPPA HAD JUST FINISHED
baseball practice with his preteen church team. Now, a dozen of his boys were piling into Melvin Hooper's café for burgers and shakes, compliments of their coach.

The boys were collected in groups around the café. Jonathan had brought Hank, his dog, with him. And Hank was frolicking in between the tables. The boys were taking turns petting and tussling with the dog while they were waiting for their food.

Joppa sat down at one of the booths, alone, and eyed his team. Then he spotted one of the boys sitting alone.

“Hey, Ryan,” Joppa called out. “Come here a minute.”

The small, red-haired boy shrugged, slowly rose, and made his way over.

“Why are you sitting alone?” Joppa asked in a quiet voice.

“I dunno.” He shrugged.

“Come on. Lay it out for me,” Joppa said, prodding a little. “What's going on? Why are you sitting alone?”