The Navigator

papyrus.”

Saxon picked up a magnifying glass and peered through the lens.

“Papyrus was made from giant sedge plants native to the Nile region,” he explained. “These sheets are of the best quality, probably made from slices that came from the heart of the plant, pounded and shaped into strips that were cross-laminated. The ink was of excellent quality as well. The glue was starch based. They used pigment and gum, and wrote with a reed pen, which gives the writing its run-on, unbroken look.”

“Now, tell us about the script,” Austin said. “It’s definitely Phoenician?”

Saxon calmly appraised the papyrus. “No doubt about it. The Phoenician twenty-two-letter alphabet was the single greatest contribution their culture gave to the world. The word alphabet itself is a combination of the first two letters. Arabic, Hebrew, Latin, Greek, and eventually English all trace their ancestry to the Phoenicians. They wrote from right to left, continuously, because they used all consonants. Vertical strokes act as punctuation to divide sentences and words.”

“Forget what we can’t read,” Austin said. “Start by reading what you can. Even the Rosetta stone was missing some text.”

“You should have gone into motivational therapy,” Saxon said.

He picked up a spiral-bound notebook and a pen and bent over one end of the papyrus. He licked his lips, scribbled in his notebook, and went on to the next text fragment. Sometimes, he studied a single word; other times, several lines of writing. He mumbled to himself as he worked his way down the length of the papyrus.

At the end, he looked up with triumph gleaming in his eyes.

“I could kiss you, old boy!”

“I make it a habit not to kiss anyone with a mustache. Man or woman.” Austin said. “Tell us what it says, please.”

Saxon tapped the notebook. “The first fragment is written by Menelik, who describes himself as the favorite son of King Solomon. He talks about his mission.”

“Menelik is the son of Sheba as well,” Austin said.

“Don’t be surprised that she’s not mentioned. Solomon had many wives and girlfriends.” He pointed to a few lines of text. “Here he says that he is grateful for the trust. He repeats this theme a number of times, which I find extremely interesting.”

“In what way?” Austin said.

“The legends say that when Menelik was young, he and a half brother, the son of Sheba’s handmaiden, stole the Ark of the Covenant from the Temple and took it to Ethiopia to establish the Solomonic line of kings. Some say it was done with Solomon’s knowledge, and a copy built to take its place. One story has him spirit the sacred Ark off to Ethiopia. In another, he redeems himself. Plagued by guilt, he returned the Ark, and Solomon forgave him.”

“Solomon practiced motivational therapy as well,” Austin said. “Who better to trust than someone trying to make up for a past misdeed?”

“Solomon’s reputation for wisdom was well deserved. There are writing fragments on the papyrus that indicate Menelik was transporting a cargo of great value.”

“Nothing more specific?” Austin said.

“Unfortunately, no. The rest of the papyrus is basically a ship’s log. Menelik is the author, which means he must have been the captain. I found the word Scythians, repeated a couple of times. The Phoenicians often hired mercenaries to guard their ships. There is reference to a ‘GreatOcean,’ some weather observations, but the main part of the log is obscured by mold.”

“Now it’s your turn to cheer me up,” Austin said with a shake of his head.

“I think I can do that,” Saxon said. He pointed to several un-stained sections. “The roll was wrapped very tight here. The mold couldn’t get in. These lines describe a landfall. The captain talks about sailing into a long bay, almost like a small sea, where he could no longer smell the ocean.”

Austin came to attention. “The Chesapeake?”

“It’s a thought. The ship anchored near an island at the mouth of a wide river. He describes the water as more brown than blue.”

“I noticed the muddy quality of the water when we set out today,” Zavala said. “We passed an island near Aberdeen Proving Grounds.”

Austin still carried the Chesapeake Bay chart in a plastic map pouch. He unfolded the creases and spread the chart out on the floor. Borrowing a grease pencil from Saxon, he marked an X near Havre de Grace at the mouth of the Susquehanna. “We’ve got our Phoenicians cooling their heels here. What did they do with the cargo?”

“Maybe they hid it in a gold mine,” Saxon said.

“Your book suggested that Ophir was located in North America. Are you saying that this thing was hidden in King Solomon’s mine?”

“When I first started looking for Solomon’s mine, I concentrated on the area around the Chesapeake and Susquehanna,” Saxon said. “There was extensive gold mining within walking distance of Washington a hundred years before the big California Gold Rush of 1849.”

“We know that,” Austin said.

“Thelma Hutchins mentioned that her husband was aware of the gold mines,” Zavala said.

Saxon nodded. “There were more than a half dozen mines along the Potomac, from Georgetown past Great Falls, around the turn of the century. At least fifty mines operated in Maryland on both sides of the Chesapeake. The gold was found in rocks from the Piedmont Plateau, which runs from New York to South Carolina.”

“That’s a lot of territory to cover,” Austin said.

“Agreed. I started looking for evidence of Phoenician contact. I found it not in Maryland but farther north, in Pennsylvania. A cache of stones with Phoenician writing on them was discovered near the state capital at Harrisburg.”

“What sort of stones?” Austin said.

“A man named W. W. Strong collected around four hundred stones found near Mechanicsburg in the Susquehanna River valley. Dr. Strong interpreted the markings on them as Phoenician symbols. Barry Fell thinks the writing is Basque. Others say the markings are natural.”

“Hold that thought,” Austin said. He went out to the Jeep and returned with the stone he had retrieved from the wreck. Saxon’s jaw dropped to his Adam’s apple.

“Where on earth did you get that?”

“I brought it up from my dive on the shipwreck.”

“Astounding!” Saxon said. He took it from Austin, holding it as if it were made of glass, and traced the inscribed line with his finger. “This is Beth, the Phoenician symbol for house, later to evolve into the Greek B. It ties the wreck into Mechanicsburg.”

Austin drew a second X at the wreck site in the bay, and a third at the mouth of the river. He connected the Xs with a line and extended it up the river.

“The trail grows cold at Mechanicsburg,” he said.

“Not exactly. I’ve studied this area for years. Trekked a good deal of it on foot and by vehicle. If any location holds promise, it is this.” He drew a quick circle around an area north of Harrisburg. “St. Anthony’s Wilderness has always intrigued me because of the stories of a long-lost gold mine. There’s even a Gold Mine Road that runs through it. The area is rife with legends of abandoned towns and mining villages. It’s extremely rugged. It’s one of the few stretches of territory that hasn’t been developed.”

“Legends are one thing,” Austin said. “Facts are another.”

Saxon turned his attention back to the papyrus. “There’s an un-stained section here that has the only mention of a mine. The surrounding words have been blotted out by mold, except for a phrase that describes a horseshoe river turn.” Saxon’s long finger traced the river to a prominent U-shaped bend in the Susquehanna. “St. Anthony’s Wilderness is east of the bend.” He shook his head. “It’s a huge area. We could search for years without finding anything.”

Austin slipped a piece of paper from the chart pouch and placed it next to the map. A curving line on the paper matched the river bend on the map. Other squiggles denoted mountains and valleys to the east of the river. “This is a copy of a Phoenician map of Solomon’s mine. It was found with some Thomas Jefferson papers.”

“Jefferson? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“We’re hoping it will in time. What do you think of the map?”