“Coming to know it well,” Malachi told him.
“The city has another famous restaurant along the same lines,” Roger said. “The Pirates’ House. Tourists, children...everyone loves it. People get off the highway and come to Savannah to dine there. Children grow up and bring their children. Oh.” He looked at Abby apologetically.
“I love Pirates’ House, too,” Abby said, laughing, “almost as much as I love the Dragonslayer.”
“Okay, I’ll talk while we walk along the riverfront. You’ll notice our shops, the monuments, the hotels—the riverfront is the heart of everything. The city of Savannah was established in 1733 and it’s known as our country’s first planned city. It was the first capital of colonial Georgia and, later, the state of Georgia. General James Oglethorpe named the thirteenth and final colony Georgia after King George. He arrived at the city via the ship Anne with one hundred and twenty settlers. He and his company landed on a high bluff above the Savannah River and he dreamed of a port to rival the best. Oglethorpe’s original plan was for total religious freedom and no slavery, but with the marshes to create rich rice fields, his concept of no slaves didn’t last too long. However, the planning of the city gives us the unique beauty of her riverfront and the squares we still have today. Streets are built on a grid with squares providing public meeting places and lovely little areas to enjoy. Today, the downtown area is one of the largest National Historic Landmark areas in North America.”
“Very impressive,” Malachi said.
“We’ll get to the squares and more landmarks later. We’ll start with Colonial Park Cemetery. It was the first graveyard for Christ Church Parish, and we’ll enter by Alercorn and Oglethorpe. More than seven hundred dead from the 1820 yellow fever epidemic rest here, along with a signer of the Declaration of Independence, Button Gwinnett. And, sadly, a number of those killed in duels are buried here, as well. There’s one really great restored stone. Come on, we’ll find it.”
Roger had walked them down the river and then up and through the streets until they reached the regal arched entry, surmounted by a noble eagle. A number of tourists and tour groups were in the cemetery. Roger didn’t even see them; he walked among stones, aboveground sarcophagi, family vaults, mausoleums and memorials to get to his objective. He read aloud, “‘He fell in a duel on the 16th of January, 1815, by the hand of a man who, a short time ago, would have been friendless but for him.... By his untimely death the prop of a Mother’s age is broken: The hope and consolation of Sisters is destroyed, the pride of Brothers humbled in the dust and a whole family, happy until then, overwhelmed with affliction.’ We are looking at the 1815 headstone of James Wilde. Sad, huh? Facing all the dangers of those early days, men still shot one another down in the streets.” He grinned at them for a minute. “Nowadays you just have to go on Facebook and unfriend people who piss you off!”
“True, and much less gruesome,” Abby agreed.
“Save the mother, the sisters and brothers a lot of heartache,” Malachi added.
“Now,” Roger continued, “most Americans know that during the Civil War, General William Tecumseh Sherman began his March to the Sea. He pursued a scorched-earth policy, believing that the only way to beat the Confederacy was to bring her to her knees. So he razed Atlanta and headed on east. When he got to Savannah, the city surrendered, which meant he didn’t have to burn down Savannah. Colonial Park Cemetery was closed to burials in 1853, so there are no Civil War soldiers buried here. But the Civil War left a lasting mark on the cemetery. As I said, Sherman didn’t burn the city. Instead, he wrote a telegram to President Lincoln, presenting him with Savannah as a Christmas gift in December of 1864. Today, we’re grateful. But here’s something interesting. Union troops filled the city with few places to billet. Many were forced to stay here in the graveyard. So, in some instances, they tossed corpses out of the mausoleums and family vaults. Bored, they scratched out the dates on a number of tombs, so in some instances, you can find a grave for someone who was born in 1820, but died in 1777. Names were changed, stones were moved around. They say the cemetery is, to this day, riddled with ghosts, dismayed by the way their graves were so rudely desecrated and disturbed. Now, it was pretty cold, so I’m guessing sometimes the Union soldiers were bitter and that sometimes, when they threw a corpse out for an enclosed place to sleep, it was just because the poor suckers were freezing.”
“Sad story,” Malachi said. “But if the dead were asleep...”
“If they were asleep?” Roger echoed.
“Well, if they’d really gone on, they wouldn’t much care, would they?”
Roger frowned suddenly. “Hey!” he said. Abby saw that he was looking at one of the tour groups.
“Roger? What’s wrong?” Abby asked.
“Huh?” His attention still on the group, he glanced back at her.
“What’s wrong?” Abby repeated.
“My date from last night is cheating on me!”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s out with another tour group!” Roger said indignantly. “You met her last night. Bianca. She’s with that group over there. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
He trotted off. “Ah, young love,” Malachi murmured, watching him go.
Then he gestured in the opposite direction. “See them?” he asked softly.
“Them?”
Malachi pointed again. “An elderly couple there, on the bench. He’s holding her hand very tenderly. They still seem to be in love, a feat during any era. And there...far over there past the bench. Seems to be a lumbering fellow...a huge lumbering fellow. Lord, he must be almost seven feet tall. He’s acting furtive, as if he’s scared....”
She stared out at the far side of the cemetery; she didn’t see what he saw. She was about to tell him that, but then, looking where he looked, listening to his words, she felt she did begin to see.
The elderly couple... They were in Revolutionary-era clothing. He wore a wig and she wore a cap over her white hair. They did hold each other tenderly.
And the bumbling man who seemed frightened, who seemed to stumble around...
She gasped suddenly. The big man was legend—the pure stuff of ghost stories!
Malachi turned to her. “You see them. You could have seen them all along. You didn’t know to look for them. Despite what Roger said, not many people haunt a graveyard. Why would they? They didn’t live here. But those two. Perhaps they’re upset by something written on a stone or some desecration committed during the Civil War and never righted.”
She didn’t reply to that; she pointed at the other man. “Rene Asche Rondolier,” she said. “All the ghost tours talk about him. He was mentally slow. He was accused of killing animals as a child. Whether he did or didn’t, no one’s ever established. His parents tried to keep him on their property behind a huge brick fence, or so the story goes. I often wonder if he was mentally deficient and therefore an automatic whipping boy at a time when a lot of the populace was still superstitious. People made fun of him or they feared him. He was accused of killing two local girls—their bodies were found here in the cemetery. The local people chased him down to the swamps and lynched him. Afterward, the murders continued, and I don’t believe the real killer was ever caught. But Rene had already been hanged for the crimes.”
“Poor man. Sure looks like he’s weeping and still afraid,” Malachi said.
“I don’t know if what we hear about his reputation was true, or if it’s been enhanced over the years,” Abby said. “What is true is that his family owned property that’s now part of the cemetery. It expanded in the late 1700s to allow for...well, more time and more dead.”
“Maybe we should try to speak with him sometime,” Malachi suggested. “And the older couple. There might be a way to find out why they’re still here.”
Abby looked at him. “Why is Blue still here, do you think?”
“Maybe he was here for Gus. Or maybe he’s here for you, to help you learn exactly what happened to Gus.”
Roger came back to join them.
“You okay?” Malachi asked him.
“Yeah, sure. Bianca just knew I’d be busy with you two today and she wanted to see some of the sights. We’ll meet up later. Okay. Now we can walk through the city and I can tell you tales as we go. We can visit Christ Church, or the Juliette Gordon Low birthplace or—”
“How about secret Savannah?” Malachi said. “Secret is the most interesting. What do you know about tunnels?”
“Ah!” Roger brightened. “You’ve heard that the city is riddled with tunnels?”
“Secret tunnels,” Malachi said.
“Yeah, and if you’re game, I know where we’ll find some of the best!”
7
“Malachi, there are so many tunnels to choose from,” Roger said happily. “Come on, let’s start walking toward the south again.”
“The south,” Malachi repeated. He pulled the map he’d found on the Black Swan out of his pocket. “Are we going in this direction?”
“Yeah, we can head there. We’ll stand on that spot marked X and I can tell you more.” He moved at a brisk pace and they followed a step or two behind. He paused to look back. “There are lots of tunnels. Some more like catacombs. One I’ve discovered recently that Abby probably doesn’t even know about. Seriously, like I said, the city is riddled with them.”
“I know there are tunnels. I didn’t know the city was riddled with them,” Abby said. “We have the shanghai tunnel at the Dragonslayer that leads to the river. There’s one at the Pirates’ House restaurant, too. And there are houses with tunnels that were part of the Underground Railroad during the Civil War. And, of course, the tunnels near Candler Hospital, but I know they’re off-limits.”
