Catfish finds Old Gold. By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com
I am not a treasure hunter. The lure of suddenly discovering great wealth doesn't excite me. A while ago I discovered I liked my life and a financial windfall wouldn't make any difference. I have most of what I want and trading in my 42 inch television for a 65 inch model wouldn't change that.
I do like mysteries. I like to catch crooks and solve crimes. I like to investigate something and find out the truth. When Livingston Miller came to me with a job, I got excited. Livingston was the head of the Virginia Historic Trust, a preservation organization. He was a well-known media figured and I saw him on the television often. His organization saved historic buildings, ran a few historic houses and sites, but recently it had been undertaking archaeological investigations.
I had followed these stories. Livingston had a knack for making history interesting, and the organization was rewriting parts of Virginia's history to reflect the actual situations. This was controversial for some. His study on slave housing wasn't too flattering to the believers in the old South as a paradise on earth. It seemed to me that anyone who thought slave life was good had to be delusional.
I had never met Livingston before and he was more impressive in real life that on camera. He was big and handsome, but most of all he was energetic and enthusiastic. He had a problem at an excavation and needed security. He wanted security that was both very tight and invisible. That was my strong suit.
My firm Catfish & Company originally specialized in catching muggers. We could slip into a neighborhood and when the mugger struck, we were there. I did a lot of field work. I'm small, but very firm when it comes to neutralizing a perp. When I found a mugger in the act, I figured the victim wanted the mugger completely neutralized as soon as possible. When a mugger appeared in court with a broken arm or leg, the Judges assumed I had caught him.
Livingston was working on an island in the James River in the middle of Richmond. It was the former site of a foundry. The famous foundry, the Tredegar, was on the shore. It made many of the cannons and armament for the Confederacy. Vauxhall Island was small and the foundry there was a minor branch of the Tredegar. The island was in the middle downtown, overlooked by the skyscrapers in the center city.
"As you know the islands in the James are pretty pathetic," Livingston explained. "They last for a while until there is a big flood and then get washed away. Belle Isle is the only big one. Vauxhall is bigger than most of the others and a portion is above water all but the worst floods. It has never been investigated."
"Is there anything left on the island to explore?"
"We didn't think so, but there has been a discovery," he continued. "The last flood exposed a granite foundation. It is big and impressive."
"Part of the foundry?"
"There is no record of anything being built that was that substantial. We thought it might be some sort of fortification. Federal warships were capable of sailing up the river, and we thought it might have been a last means of defense. We have had a second discovery. We found an inscription, "Property of the C.S.A. Treasury Department." That is a shocker."
"Are you talking Confederate gold?" I asked. The search for a stash of Confederate gold has been a cottage industry since 1865. There have been legends of gold being buried or hidden in several areas. When Richmond fell and burned in 1865, the government fled in great confusion. No one knew what went where and what was lost in the fire. Theoretically the Confederacy was bankrupt, but no one really knows.
"There appears to be some sealed rooms. It's possible something is in the rooms," Livingston explained. "It's not inconceivable that the government had a rainy-day fund for an emergency. The leaders were all marked men and no one knew what was in store for them. Then, as now, escape could be expensive. It's possible they had a plan."
"What do you need from me?"
"We need for you to help to protect the site and do it with as little public attention as possible," he said. "When I talked with some friends, they said you were the man for the job. We are going to open the rooms this week. We need some security pronto."
"That is short notice," I said.
"We found the inscription three days ago," he explained. "We thought we just had the footings of the foundry or a fortification." I told him I would need to make some calls, but I would get back to him that evening. He left and I called in my office manager, Tony, and Roosevelt, my right hand man. I have often said that it is sometimes better to be lucky than smart. Roosevelt was a Civil War buff and Tony was a reinactor. He was into the Civil War big time.
I wasn't too sure about the reinactor stuff. Some of them seemed to be over the top, but Tony said he was old school. His interests were historical, and not a veiled effort to be more respectable than the KKK. Since he was close to Roosevelt, I knew he had no problems that way. Roosevelt was into Black Union soldiers, but he kept an eye on the whack jobs.
"There is tendency for some of the Neo-confederate groups to flirt with overt racism and terrorism," Roosevelt said. "When I was younger most of these groups were either genuinely interested in history, or overgrown Boy Scouts. They have taken a turn to extreme right."
"By extreme you mean they think Hitler was just misunderstood?" I asked.
Roosevelt laughed. "And Jack the Ripper just had some problems with interpersonal relationships?" he suggested. "As far as I can tell they are very open minded as to whom they hate. It used to hate only black people, but they have added Mexicans, foreigners, gay people and most women to their list of people who don't know their place and are destroying the country."
"Who is available for this project?" I asked.
"Well, there is the Geezer Patrol," Tony said, "They can keep an eye on the internet. Bubba and Lamont can sign on as laborers. Lee and Sally might be viable archaeologists. Do you want to try Captain Billy? He so full of shit he can divert attention from the actual purpose of the project. He's good with boats too." The Geezer Patrol was group of retired men and women who would search the internet if the case needed that sort of research. Bubba and Lamont handled blue collar undercover; Lee and Sally worked more upscale situations. Over the next hour we worked out a preliminary plan.
That night I went to see Livingston. He lived in the deepest West End, in a secluded house overlooking the James. The house was ordinary, but had a great view of the river. Somehow I assumed he was married and obsessively neat. He dressed well, but the house looked like the back room of a library. The room where they repaired the books. It was a mess.
He liked my scheme. We would have men on the island and on the shore. Livingston suggested that we say the excavation was to uncover fortifications intended to block an Ironclad attack on the city similar to that attempted in 1862. "The Galena, the ship that led the earlier attack was back on the river by then. The Onondaga, a monitor, was nearby too," Livingston said. "By 1865 the Union Navy was much stronger. The potential that the navy might sail into the city and take them all captive must have given them nightmares."
We discussed the details of the plan. I gave him a price and that was fine. The excavation had some big bucks underwriting the cost. We had a beer or two while watching the sun set. The doorbell rang and Livingston went to answer it. A little later he returned with an old friend, Ari Metropolis. Ari was a well-known restaurant owner and a playmate of mine.
I pride myself on being a good judge of a man's sexual preferences, but I had misjudged Livingston completely. I knew Ari well enough to know he was visiting for some fun.
"Ari told me you are old friends," Livingston said. "We are friends too, but I don't think I have known him as long as you have. He had mentioned a friend he wanted me to meet, but I hadn't guessed it was you."
I smiled. "Ari and I have similar tastes," I said. "I assume you share the same tastes?"
"It's a little chilly out here. Why don't we go in the house?" Livingston said.
"I was thinking your bedroom would be nice and warm," Ari said. Ari tended to be direct.
A minute or two later we were all naked and discovered that we indeed shared the same interests. It was also clear the Livingston was a size queen and he was a very happy man. Someone once described Ari as a gourmet cook in a gorilla costume. I have been described a horny chimp. Livingston could have been a male model. His body was muscular and beautifully defined. He had a carefully groomed stand of hair on his chest, and a thin treasure trail connecting it to his bush. His cock was lovely.
Fortunately, he liked to slum. He took one look at me and said, "Shit you are ugly!" He then dropped to his knees and swallowed my entire cock. It turned out not only was he a size queen, he was a sword swallower too.
The three of us got on the bed and traded positions a few times. Ari's cock drooled big time and I liked his genital brew. While Livingston seemed enthusiastic, his cock was even more so. His cock juices didn't drool, they flowed.
I soon realized that sucking was just preparation for fucking and Livingston wanted it in the ass. When I touched his ass he shivered in excitement. I was a little worried about that. He had a beautiful ass, the hole seemed small and delicate. I wondered if my cock would fit. It seemed wrong to stretch it wide and get it all puffy.
Ari poked him first. Ari's cock is impressive if you are into diameter. It's shaped like a butt plug. While it's not that long, but it was long enough to reach Livingston's prostate. I know because Livingston moaned every time Ari's organ rammed the gland. Ari had a lengthy orgasm and didn't pull out until the last drop of his Greek sperm was in Livingston's ass. I took his place and used Ari's man seed as lubricant.
Livingston's hole was very tight, but he made no effort to resist my penetration. I had just nosed my knob into his hole and then made a sharp thrust. I expected to pop through his sphincter. A second later my bush touched his hole. I was in all the way. He seemed a little dazed at first. His eyes glazed over. I was still. I wanted to let him get used to it. I then pulled out a little. He squeezed his sphincter. He wanted me in him.
I pulled out further and thrust again a few times. Each time was better for me and made Livingston react more. He was getting into it. After a few minutes he was moaning continuously. He was like a violin, and my cock was the bow. I didn't exactly play taps on his prostate, but I came damn close.
"Catfish, could you pull out and let me catch my breath?" he asked. Of course I did.
"Are you okay, Livingston? Ari asked.
"Damn, I never felt so totally naked in my entire life," he said. "I'm embarrassed, I've never lost it so completely before."
"Catfish does that to people sometimes," Ari said. "To tell you the truth, I think you look good with a telephone pole in your ass. You had a nice glow."
"I've never taken a cock as big as yours," he said to me. "You hit some new places."
"Did it hurt you?"
"Hurt isn't the right word. I didn't expect what I felt. Overwhelming might be the right word, all encompassing. I forgot who I was for a little while," Livingston said. "Do you want to cum in me?"
"That is optional," I said. "I do like to fuck a guy to an orgasm."
"Yours or mine?"
"Both, if at all possible, but I will take what I can get," I said. "Have you ever fucked a guy and felt him twitch as he ejaculates? It's hard to hold back."
"No, but I felt Ari shooting in me," he said. "I liked that a lot." I rolled him over and took him from the rear. Technically I fucked him but it was really an anal massage. Ari sucked him as I rubbed his innards. Sucking wasn't the right word there either. Ari worshiped Livingston's cock. After a while we all had a nice little communion service. Ari took Livingston's load and his twitches made me shoot. Livingston's ass spasmed and I had a nice slow motion orgasm. It was lovely.
Livingston ass was as tight when I pulled out as when I first fucked him. He never loosened up. That was good for me.
It was late and I went home. Ari stayed.
The next afternoon I was going to Vauxhall Island to scout it out. In the morning I had a chance to check up of my Civil War history. That wasn't too successful. There was too much information, I was over whelmed.
The trip to the island was good and educational. I vaguely knew the island was in the river, but that was all. The river was wide and it was difficult to see from the shore. We took a small boat and it was still difficult to see. There were many overgrown sand bars. In some ways it was a surprise that the bigger island was so hard to find. It was also overgrown. We landed and walked a few yards into the tangled underbrush. There we found the large granite arch, in filled with smaller stones. The arched stones were huge and impressive. The infill stones were smaller but not that small.
It seemed to me this was substantial construction for wartime Richmond. I knew the city had an acute manpower shortage. Able bodied men were either in the army or dead. The arch wasn't made by elderly or infirm men. The inscription was in the middle of the arch. It was on white marble.
The island was small, but higher out of the water than it looked. It was so over gown that it was hard to figure out. I was with a kid named Rick who had a steel rod. He was energetic and strong and he poked it into the ground. Since much of the island was silt and organic debris, this wasn't difficult. An hour later I realized Rick was bright. He started at the arch and worked to the rear and then to side with his probe. He figured out the underground chamber was about forty five feet deep and twenty feet wide. That was big enough to hold a lot of powder and ammunition.
If there was to have been a gun mounted on the island to repel ironclads that would be a good supply of ammunition. The island was near the old port area of Richmond, and the City Dock, but another island, Mayo's, blocked part of the view. It didn't seem to me that Vauxhall Island was high enough to shoot over Mayo's island.
The inscription clearly stated the construction was for the Treasury. Forty by twenty feet of Treasury stuff could have been a good part of what survived in the Confederate treasury. Rick knew a lot about the last days of Richmond before it fell. Union Troops were on three sides of the City in April of 1865. Only the rail lines to the South and west were intact. Ironclads had sealed the James and the Canal to the west was damaged.
Rick said the surviving rain station was near the island but getting from the island to the station would have been difficult, especially with a heavy load.
"Greenbacks would have been easy, but paper money was all but worthless," he said. "As far as I can tell, the evacuation of the city was a surprise. It is hard to believe it, but the government hadn't planned for the evacuation. You would think with Federal troops on all sides it would have been obvious, but the government seemed to think that Lee would pull a rabbit from his hat one more time and save the day."
"He had done so well," I said.
"No one else had done that well," Rick said. "Lee may have saved the capital city, but just about everything else was gone. I think Richmond was like Berlin in 1945. The situation was hopeless, but the leadership was delusional."
Rick's probe hit something metallic. It was at the top of the vault about thirty inches from the surface. It made the solid sound of a metal plate. It wasn't a tin or sheet metal like sound. Rick was methodical. The metal plate was square and about three feet wide.
"I think it's a hatch or a ventilation opening, he said. We went to tell Livingston of the find. He had been busy clearing brush.
It was getting late, and we decided to wait until the next day to further explore. Most of the crew were young students. Most were not use to manual labor. After a half day of clearing brush they looked wiped out. I assumed they were willing, but I wondered if they could do the work needed.
"I wonder if we might need some more beef here. It seems to me that there is a lot of heavy work ahead," I said. "I have a contractor friend who could be helpful."
"I'm not sure I want people I don't know on the site," Livingston said.
"You can trust the Millennium Construction Company," I said. "They are good about unusual projects and they are trustworthy. I know them well."
I called my contractor friend and asked if he could send us some men. John ran a tight ship. They would have no problem moving large stones. John knew about the project and was interested. He said he would send his best men. I told him the project was hush-hush.
"You are afraid of the South will rise again group?" he asked.
"I'm not afraid, but I am uneasy," I said.
"They use to be nice men with a hobby. Some of the organizations have been hijacked by wing nuts," John said.
The construction crew and my men were waiting at the dock the next morning. It was nice to see some old friends in the group. Skeeter, Jimmy and Bill. They were John's best men. With Bubba and Lamont we could do some heavy work. They were construction workers and the academic members of Livingston's group were uneasy. After an hour of working on the island, everyone was happy. John's men were human bulldozers. By lunch time they were pals.
Officially Livingston was the leader of the excavation but Rick was the field man. Rick said he was into dirt. He didn't mind getting dirty. He could also connect the dots. He figured out the layout of the underground vaults. One of the students, Rodney, had an encyclopedic knowledge of Civil War Richmond. Rodney tended to be annoying, but he knew his stuff. He knew who had carved the inscription. It was a local tombstone man. He had done most of the early tombstones in the Hebrew Cemetery. That was an odd, but useful bit of information. Rodney had also found a small monogram on the inscription, "JB."
The monogram could have been that of Judah Benjamin, the Confederate Secretary of the Treasury and the only Jew in the cabinet. I asked myself how Rodney knew the names of the cabinet secretaries 150 years ago. I had underestimated the obsessiveness of Civil War buffs. If it was Benjamin's initials, the vault was special.
I was beginning to get excited. I worked with Bill, Bubba and Rick clearing the dirt away from the metal plate at the top of the vault. It was hard work. The dirt was a dense mat of roots. You could pass a rod through it, but shovels didn't work. We had to cut our way to the plate. When we reached the plate, it was a thing that looked a little like the door to an old cast iron stove. It was inscribed, "Treadegar Company Makers 1864."
The foundry on the island was a part of the Tredegar. Livingston joined us and we prepared to lift it. It seemed to have rusted in place, but Bill, Bubba and Skeeter got it open. It covered a three foot square opening. The smell coming from the vault was stale and rank, as you would find in an old sealed up basement.
Livingston shined a flashlight into the room. He couldn't see anything. We sent for a bigger light. We decided to lower someone into the room to get a better look. I was the obvious choice since I was the smallest and lightest man in the group.
Bill made a harness type contraption. They tied me in it and lowered me through the hole. That worked fine. They lowered a bright lantern next to me. It looked as if the room had brick floor. The bricks were arranged in an orderly pattern of squares. I took pictures with a high powered camera that had a spectacular flash. I was not going to the floor; I was just to take pictures. We had no idea about the stability of the stone vaulted roof. It looked solid to me, but Livingston wanted to take no chances. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see the remains of a few dead animals, rats and a raccoon.
There was a larger lump of stuff in a corner, I saw something shiny. It was a bayonet. The large thing was clothes and I saw a skeletonized hand. It was the body of a soldier. I guessed he was in a Confederate soldier. I looked on the other side of the room. There was another body. This one was wearing sneakers. My light made something flash on the floor near the second body. Everything in the room was covered in dust and dirt. Some of the grime was wiped away near the body.
The flash was yellow. The floor wasn't brick; it was covered in gold ingots. I was looking at the gold reserves of the Confederate States of America.