Date: Mon, 29 Jul 2013 13:36:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish Finds Old Gold

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.