ROBERT MORRISS: CANNIBAL SLAYER

[ECS]

I whispered to the alienist to ask the mesmered Chester where the treasure was located.
Chester heard my whisper, turned, and stared at me with cold dead eyes, like the eyes of a doll.
Chester responded in a flat monotone:
"I spent a little time on the mountain, and spent a little time on the hill, there were times when it would have been better to run away, but I just stood still. I don't know, but told if the horse will not pull you will have to carry the load. Never knew if my back was that strong, but I found out before too long. I have been told that it was hard to run with the weight of gold, but in the heat of the sun a man died of cold. Things went down that I never understood, but in time..."
Chester's stare became even more hardened," YOU WILL!"

 

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[ECS]

With that said, the ectenic force departed from Chester, and he fell back into the chaise, limp as a mammy rag doll.
The alienist felt for Chester's pulse as his chest rose, showing that he still lived. We were all grateful that he was not dead.
The alienist, George and I were unnerved by the words, "YOU WILL", and I wondered what our next move should be concerning our search for Beale treasure.
"I need a Kentucky bourbon", retorted George, as he departed the room, "you coming?".

 

[ECS]

I followed George as he traveled Fifth street to where it met Madison, and we both entered Vedder's Tavern.
George had the barkeep, Edward, bring a bottle of Kentucky's finest to the table located in the rear, that we chose so as not to be overheard by the few others in the bar.
" You chose well with your alienist", remarked George, starting the conversation.
"Can't find a better man for the job", I replied.
As George and I sipped our bourbon, we discussed what we heard at the Washington Hotel, not quite believing anything that had transpired, and, still, wondering if there could be the possibility of some truth in what Crazy Chester blurted forth while mesmerized.
I , more so, than George, felt there was some truth in what we heard, and intended to pursue the matter of the treasure further.
George then informed me that he intended to relocate to Washington, DC, and conduct his business there, letting me know that I was now on my own to continue the search for Beale's treasure.

 

[releventchair]

George left me with his pages of notes from the Chester event. These I would review repeatedly and find much missed earlier by myself.
Chester and his dog are vacationing at the stable in complete bliss, though Chester made it well known that we needed to get back to miss Fannie. On account of her being the only one who knew the business well and that he had given her regards to everyone; allowing him to depart.
Following Georges departure we, Jack and Chester ,(fully revived and seemingly content not knowing of the event he had encountered and left free to explore the following day) had returned to the Washington yet again where a debted to me for a land purchase loan being considered, Frank Hazlewood provided collateral including a different version of pamphlet than we had previously encountered in a very thorough search uncovering his fathers as one that was alleged to be apart from those previous..
While there; an accounts collection of Morris were located from a previous depository of hotel records including personal effects and receipts of his. Cold hard cash had come through again, a hotel servant was more well off, and I was thrilled at the acquisition of such items once held by Morris.

A stop sale of his possessions and a latter sale of furniture previously collateraled against an unspecified loan, to a family member then loaned to Sarah is of interesting and puzzling note as much of Beale mystique seems to be. Even poor Sarah's piano Forte had been at risk..
Following a failure in tobacco speculation left Morris with few effects and less ..credit.
(The note of sale of possessions taken out in the Lynchburg Press follows)
By virtue of a deed of trust executed to the subscriber by Robert Morriss, for purposes therein expressed, will be sold to the highest bidder, at the dwelling house of the said Morriss ON FRIDAY THE 25TH INSTANT A great variety of valuable Household and Kitchen FURNITURE Consisting of Mahogany Tables, Bed and Bedsteads, a handsome Piano Forte, Chairs, &c. &c. – Also, A GOOD WORKHORSE, or so much thereof as will satisfy the debt in said deed. Acting as trustee I will convey such titles as vested in me. A. Robertson, Trustee
(Herein the quit sale follows)

NOTICE. THe above sale of goods will not take place as is advertised. The subscriber avails himself of this opportunity to inform his friends and the public generally that he still continues open his House of Entertainment, for the accommodation of Travelers and Boarders, and pledges himself that nothing will be wanting on his part to render those who may call upon him as comfortable as possible. Robert Morriss.

The stop sale perhaps the indication that Beale, despite no receipt found to confirm, had removed Morris's feet from the flame,albeit temporarily. Too, establishing an hotel ownership opposed to Morris's previous leasing, would require capital well beyond simply relieving him of debt.
No future for his family of wealth from him by his inevitable departure must have weighed heavily on a once moneyed man.
It would perhaps explain Morris being trusted; through indebtedness with such a party.

 

[ECS]

With George in DC, I continued my lone search for the Beale treasure, going to Goose Creek and the Peaks of Otter and more remote sections of Bedford county. Sometimes I had that feeling that creeps up ones back and raises the hair on the neck, that I was not alone. It began to unnerve me and I decided that I needed to carry protection.
I went to the Roanoke Hardware & Mercantile and purchased one of the new German machine pistols, a 7.63 Mauser called a "broomhandle", that produced rapid fire. The holster was a hollow wooden stock, which could be attached to the broom handle grip and turn the pistol into a carbine.
I now felt secure when on the Beale treasure hunt in the deep forest and hills, which Hazelwood's pamphlet gave insight.

 

[releventchair]

To update the activities when not searching the Bedford area and how and why I searched......
Following our return without mishap to Roanoke from the hotel's events I stopped first at the livery where Chester and Jack in great spirits had a cheerful reunion with Fannie.
"Thank you for lunch and feel free to call upon me should my assistance be required"Chester said with a flaring tip of the hat.
Returning home, the next week was spent attending business affairs and sorting the box of material from Morris along with the affore mentioned explorations..
The box Beale had left was alas absent from the hotel, at least by the account of the servant who had searched the property in hopes of a monetary prize.
Claiming the documents were not from the hotel itself ,no disclosure could be pried from him at any price as to their source.
Morris's notes left a gruesome impression, I'm sure to discourage anyone from prying into his affairs,though near the end he was seemingly despondent as he had been before meeting Beale, only more so.
A site above where George ,our mystic and I had dug; George had revisited and blasted the dead snag nearby our previous excavation revealing nothing.
Following my reconnaissance since then of the Bedford area had left one site unexplored.
Morris's notes hinted of a former homestead above.
Another rest and I rustled up Chester,Jack and a wagon for Nell and we arrived mid day at the site of our former digging.
The trail going above was overgrown from disuse. Prior to cresting the ridge a flat stone centered the trail.
A disassociated from their tether group of black beads rested on it.
Odd, I thought and urged Nell to the flat above before Chester spotted them.
Ears back she did not rest when we stopped. Jack growled ,then wined and stayed on the wagon.
Chester said nothing and following his gaze past the fallen chimney and through no longer producing remnants of apple trees I saw a disheveled figure stiffly waving from near a jumble of boulders that for all appearance had stampeded and landed against a low hillside.. Chester slid off the seat, grasped Nells halter and turned her on a dime. Once back on the wagon he continued watching the figure.
Nell, unlike herself then started back down hill with no instruction to do so.
Passing the previously dug spot at a trot thinking it was a debtor of his, I asked Chester who that was he would avoid?
"That's one of Carmen's friends" was all he would say about the figure; while repeating over and over "never go back".
The feeling of it not being someone we knew, and the parties response where strangers normally greet one another, hit me then like a jolt.
I was closer to something. But was it what we had been looking for?
I would return.

 

[ECS]

As the days passed, Chester's behavior grew stranger, constantly mumbling about Carmen's friends and never going back less the hunger take control. None of his ramblings made any sense to me, but Chester now refused to future mesmerisms, and informed me that he would no longer accompany me in the wood. Many times I attempted to change this decision of his, I believed we were near to finding Beale's treasure, but Chester remained steadfast in his refusal, contently minding the stable with only Fannie and Jack for company.
I admit, I was obsessed with finding the treasure, even though I could not break the other ciphers, ad other questions swirled about my mind- Who was Carmen, and most important, who were Carmen's friends?
Were they sentinels? If they were, what were they guarding?

 

[ECS]

Chester would never tell me who Carmen or who her friends were, and his behavior became most strange, at work he became distraught, and was constantly talking about his fear of the hunger. The townsfolk complained about Chester's wandering the streets, mumbling weird phrases, and frightening their children. Facing reelection, the sheriff was forced to carry Chester to the Western State Hospital at Stauton. By a very unusual coincidence, Chester was placed in a room once occupied by John William Sherman, the man who printed the Beale Papers in 1885.

 

[Rebel - KGC]

Chester would never tell me who Carmen or who her friends were, and his behavior became most strange, at work he became distraught, and was constantly talking about his fear of the hunger. The townsfolk complained about Chester's wandering the streets, mumbling weird phrases, and frightening their children. Facing reelection, the sheriff was forced to carry Chester to the Western State Hospital at Stauton. By a very unusual coincidence, Chester was placed in a room once occupied by John William Sherman, the man who printed the Beale Papers in 1885.

OMG!

 

[ECS]

It was the beginning of the modern age, man had built powered flying machines, called aeroplanes, and horse drawn buggys are being replaced by petrol fueled motorcars.
During 1911, I purchased WILLYS-OVERLAND model 45 roadster with wide tires for the price of $791.00. With its 4 cylinder engine and 96" wheelbase, it served my forays into backwoods well.
In addition to my broomhandle pistol which I wore with the leather strap over my right shoulder so the wood stock holster was on my left side, with pistol butt facing forward for easy grasp, I carried a Winchester model 94 level action, which I kept in a leather scabbard on the left of my roadster's righthand steering wheel.
It was that fall, while driving though the forest near Montvale, that I once again encountered the disheveled friend of the mysterious Carmen.

 

[releventchair]

At the Locust Level in Montvale while attending a mesmerism's meeting in the dance hall a distraught worker summoned us all to the meathouse.
A chaotic mess awaited. The disjointed door and contents strewn about suggested a raiding bear.
A mention was made of mysterious"skunk bears"reported disrupting farms at night as far as Bufords gap along the creek and it was reputedly from the high ground above as a most likely origin of these raids.
The worker who had sounded the alarm spoke of frequent depredations on the farm but nothing like this.
Some members had been hunting the Blue Ridge valley and it's creeks and where the nightcap shaped valley ground between the ridge and Peaks of Otter had be a fertile site for generations of deer hunters, no deer were to be found but the remains of scavenged carcasses and those of months of age.
Disease was suspected and those who ran hounds were reluctant to hunt there and repaired to Villamont or towards Sedalia regions despite the inconvenience.
One houndsman reported finding a horse and wagon with a tired horse and no rider that from what he could tell had come south from Powell Gap.
Left at the livery a week he took it home on advice from the proprietor as no one was paying board.
No owner had showed to claim it and a casual search by the finder, from sheep creek to the gap found nothing and a hound was lost below the Peaks and not recovered or found at any home days later still adding to the bad luck reputation falling on the area.
Nothing for us to do at the farm beyond the authorities being notified and letting the hunters sort out who would set to cast about for a cold trail, we retired to the hall again where I excused myself from the disruption.
(I had a suspicion where a 'skunk bear" may be.)

 

[ECS]

I discovered an old wagon trail, the ruts overgrown, but still discernable, leading into the deep wood near Montvale.
Slowly driving the trail in my roadster, a strangely shaped tree caught my eye. Among the elms, hemlocks, and hickory trees, was a lone white walnut that formed a perfect "Y". I got out of my motorcar for a closer inspection.
Just below where the limbs formed the "Y", an arrow was carved into the tree, and I took sight to where the arrow pointed, pressing my face against the tree, which revealed a group of boulders. A large cross was carved into one of the boulders.
Was this Beale's vault?
I looked up on the "Y"'s right branch and noticed that a turtle had been carved upon it, but the carved turtle was missing his right front leg. On the left branch was another carved turtle, this one had no head. I have heard talk of talking trees, but lacked the knowledge to understand the meaning.
With resolve, I hiked to the location of the boulders, interested to see what the carved cross would reveal.
A foul smell assailed my nostrils, the sickly sweet odor of decaying flesh putrescence.
Then I heard a rustle in the leaf and brush ground cover to my left.
Another to my right.
...and then from behind.

 

[ECS]

In front of me stood the disheveled man, who had waved at Chester, holding a stout limb of ironwood, which he lifted and pointed at me.
"You", he said in a raspy low voice, and then, "Bring me Chester, he is one of ours, now".
I must admit that I was gripped with fear at this point, but I stood steadfast, and asked," Who is Carmen"?
Instead of providing an answer, he began a rhythmic pounding on the forest floor with the ironwood limb, and began to chant," Meat, meat, meat,..", and was joined by those surrounding me, and unseen others hidden in the deep wood.
I turned to leave, when the one that was behind me came at me with branch in hand. Acting on instinct with blood rushing through my veins, I drew the broomhandle , fire pointblank at him, flame flashing from the barrel, hit him square in the chest, knocking him backward.
Without a second thought, I took flight like a bat out of hell with Carmen's friends in pursuit. I stumbled on an exposed hickory tree root, nearly falling face first into the earth, but managed to regain my balance, at last reaching my parked roadster.
Pulling the Winchester from its scabbard, I levered a cartridge and fired, again, again, again, until they disappeared into the wood.
With heart pounding and near breathless, I started the roadster and departed that cursed forest.

 

[ECS]

I had resolved to put the Beale treasure hunt behind me and never venture forth into that forest again. The years rolled by as I devoted my endeavors to my profession.
Shortly after the Great War ended, I received word that Chester had passed away at the hospital, dying from a hunger that never could be abated. Was I responsible for Chester's fate?
As the 1920's roared in, a well dressed gentleman, unknown to me, stood knocking at my door.
He introduced himself as, Andre Beauscope, and wanted to discuss the Beale treasure mystery with me, having heard town talk that I had search for this elusive cache.
Beauscope hailed from Florida, and in his research, had discover the true identity of Thomas Beale- the pirate Jean Lafitte. He elaborated on a wandering tale that involved Lallemand, the banker Girard, Champ d' Asile and the Olive and Vine Colony, and a secret cadre of Bonapartists in Bedford county.
I listened, not letting my amusement show, and when asked concerning my opinion of his theory, replied , interesting, without expressing my doubts to his tale.
Beauscope then inquired about possible location where he should search, I could have directed him to the talking tree in the cursed forest, instead I recommended a wood in another direction.
Beauscope bid me good day, and once again my mind was occupied with ghastly haunted memories.

 

[ECS]

Once again I attempted to place the Beale matter aside, but a letter from brother George once again brought it to the forefront.
George had read an article in the Washington Post about a military code breaker, Col George Fabyan, who had broken all the German ciphers and codes during the Great War, and if anyone could solve the Beale ciphers, this was the man. My brother requested that I send a copy of the numbered C1 and C3 ciphers, along with the Declaration of Independence solved C2, so he could forward them to Fabyan's Riverbank Laboratories.
The next day I mailed the package from the Roanoke Postal Office, with high expectation that at last this mystery would be solved, and what or who roamed the woods of Bedford county.
I must make note, that I never mentioned to George the peculiar strangers that I encountered during my foreys into those forests.

 

[ECS]

One great invention of this modern age was the telephone, a service provided by the Chesapeake & Potomac Telephone Company, now George and I could communicate without waiting for postal deliveries, though sometimes our conversations were not as clear as talking in person.
I began subscribing to a Lynchberg newspaper, THE NEWS, after I read an article by a Mrs Martha Rivers Adams concerning the Beale Papers treasure. In the article it was mentioned that she had met with James Beverly Ward's daughter, Adeline McVeigh, who stated that her father wrote that pamphlet, basing the story on true events.
Was it a story, with parts that were real, was the thought that kept circling in my mind.
Also in THE NEWS were stories about missing hunters and fishermen who went into the forests in Bedford county and never were seen again, as well as devoured carcasses of cattle, hogs, and family dogs and cats found in that same area.
I collected these articles and placed them in the left hand drawer of my oak secretary, promising to tell brother George what I knew to be behind these disappearances of man and animal, after he received word from Col George Fabyan concerning the ciphers in the Beale Papers.

 

[ECS]

Prohibition was now the law of the and, written into the Constitution and stories of Federal agents searching for illegal whiskey distillers in the Peaks of Otter never returning or being seen again became a common article in Lynchberg's THE NEWS.
Col Fabyan's reply to George concerning the Beale ciphers, which he confessed was unable to break, "lies rather beyond he range of possibility without the key".
Undaunted, George suggested that we search the other side of Sharp Top, the cliffs of Buzzards Roost for signs left by Beale which may provide leads to the "key".

 

[releventchair]

At Thaxton we made inquiry of Sharp top with a rather jumpy resident who only reluctantly ventured beyond his dooryard to point out a route towards Flat Top.
His humble cottage was still shuttered at mid day and he and his children all wore conspicuous native talismans about their necks.
Wondering where his Mrs. may be was stifled by George asking of water on the route.
"Stay away from little stony " the yards inmate instructed."We've bears thick from there at times. They's been killin stock all over the range.
Yous'ns be better not camp below 3200 feets but I wunnit camp at'all.
No one wants to hunt em after one man found a cellar cave full of skeletons. He brought home an Injun tomahawk of the prettiest knapping and claims he's been chased by stock killin haint's that want him too ever since. That fool aughta have left it in the first place keepin them bones in such in there, but e can't even put it back now as hit's gone missin,right from his home in the night!
Skunk bears and wild carry'ins ons stories keepin folks down on flat land."

Bears I heard well enough... but kept it to myself and asked rather, any better view on Sharp Top?

"Sharp Tops got a cottage on it an is cursed and folks been stayin clear" he said.
You believe that? I inquired. "Dunnint matter if I do or don't the natives do and I ain't after messin n ther'n business. I've got work iffen yous'll excuse please"he said and headed for the barn callin his children to chores.
We watched in silence, our welcome's it seemed quickly spent.....
Then George looked at the sky despite it being well before dark and my suspicions were he would prefer to be on top before dark.
Gotcher rifle? I teased George with a smile.
George did not smile back but spoke quickly and quietly.
"I've heard stories them old spirits ain't been put to rest from back in Morris's time and still come scratching around folks homes and they turn men mad to do their bidding.."
I did not need to feign surprise. George had not voiced any concerns about exploring leads this entire year and had viewed our mystics and sundry eccentrics with a touch of wryness.
"Those talismans are for something them scared folks are knowledgeable about" George continued.
"You have any idea what that reason is you better share it but we need to get moving".
You are not getting spooked? I asked, but brother was not having any of it and was all business as usual.
"We start up there now or we go home. I want camp set BEFORE dark."
George shouldered his pack with a grunt. Sundries and dry goods as our foodstuffs ,a gallon of coal tar oil and a lamp big enough to cook on was in there with who knows what else.
My own boodle felt heavy allready with enough munitions to start a small war. Or end one.
George knew more than he was letting on. As was I for that matter. Was treasure making us crazy?... No; it already had.
A long climb was ahead of us.

 

[ECS]

George then reached into the back of my reliable Willys-Overland Runabout, and produced a bundle wrapped in oilcloth that he placed there before we began our trip.
"You asked if I brought my rifle", he replied while unwrapping the oilcloth, " I brought two, one is for you".
George handed me the strangest carbine rifle I had ever seen.
"This is a 45 caliber Thompson M1921, and you lad with this XX 20 round box magazine, and you should be aware that I taped two together, one facing up, the other down, so when the first one is empty, the is flipped over to provide a fast reload".
After a quick tutorial from George on the operation on this Thompson, w continued our travel to Buzzards Roost.
I still found comfort with my Mauser broom holstered at my side and my lever 94 Winchester, secured in its scabbard beside me.

 

[ECS]

As we explored the base of the Buzzard Roost cliffs, we encountered a biscuit shaped boulder. On its face, though weathered by the elements, were carved X's, parallelograms, and letters. On closer inspection, the letters were, "FE" and "POT", then I noticed "T.B." was also carved into the boulder.
Was this the "KEY" to Beale's treasure, carved into the rock by the hand of Thomas Beale?
Nearby, George had discovered an overgrown path that switched back and forth up the side of Buzzard Roost.
We hastened our ascent up the path, feeling that Beale's treasure vault would be at the path's end.