Read Online Secrets in the Lowcountry--The River by Janet Cooper - Free Book Online Page A

” Jeff stopped recalling the retreating vie w of a man he’d al w ays admired. Clearing his throat, he w ent on, “the funeral for his w ife. If any w ord comes in, tell him.”
    Nodding in agreement, Tim said, “Okay. I’ll ask Sara to help me move everything here since the rest of the cro w d ’s gone off hunting for Rod. She’s as anxious to help as I am. Bet w een the t w o of us w e can share the job … ”
    Sensing uneasiness in Tim , Jeff said, “Do you have any questions? I’m not sure I have the ans w ers, but you can try me . ”
    “ W e’re all w ondering, but w e don’t w ant to ask Taylor or her dad or even the guy from the DNR, at least not w ith the Harris e s around . You’re a local. W hat do you think happened to Rod?”
    Shrugging his shoulder, Jeff said, “I honestly don’t kno w . Rod’s a boater , has been all his life. That’s w hat’s scary. Taylor, Doc, everyone realize s this. Yesterday, the w eather w as misty and light rain, but no w ind so there w as very, little chop.”
    Tim fro w ned.
    “The w ind will cause w aves in the w ater making the river choppy. The Broad is very w ide , almost half-a-mile at certain points a nd very shallo w in many spots. In shallo w w ater, the w ind ca n really stir things up. But the day w as calm. That’s w hy w e can’t understand w hat happened. My theor y is he ran out of gas. That happens. And our tides,” he caught himself because he w as referring to the tides as if he still live d here, w ell he did right no w , “our tides can run from minus one foot to eleven feet and change every six hours. Plus the speed ranges bet w een four and five knots.”
    “Hold on, h o w many miles in a ‘knot’?”
    “A little more than one .”
    “So, w e have fast running w ater, but w ouldn’t that help him drift to safety?” Tim’ s face sho w ed his confusion.
    “E xcept he probably couldn’t control the boat w ithout an engine.”
    “ You said the Broad’s shallo w . W hy didn’t he get out of the boat, pull it to shore, w alk to a road and find help? Or if the w ater ’s to o deep, he could have s w um to the bank, climbed out and sought help?”
    “Have you had a chance to look at the river at lo w tide?” Jeff asked, patiently.
    “Yeah.”
    “Did you see the mud on either side of the w a ter, going all the w ay to the banks ?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “That dark bro w n mud may appear to be plain old mud, but w e call it ‘p luff mud’ because it has the consisten cy of chocolate w hipped cream. If you put one foot in, you sink up to your knee. Put the second one in, no w you are in up t o your knees on both legs. And to make it more comfortable, I use that w ord sarcastically, oyster shells are often buried in the pluff mud. The local Yemasee Indians used those shells for cutting deer skins .”
    “Ouch!” Tim shiver ed .
    “Exactly. So, the locals stay in their boats and w ait for the tide to lift them off the bank or they drift and w ait for someone to find them. Understand?”
    “Yes. Guess I’m almost glad I get seasick, ” he grimaced.
    “Any other questions?”
    “Ho w lo ng will the DNR keeping looking. ”
    “Normally, three days. The authorities , Coas t Guard, DNR, and local police, will decide w hat’s next.”
    Tim w aited.
    “Typically, they scale back operation s. Local police and DNR will keep alert for anything unusual … ”
    His attention stayed riveted on Jeff.
    “Empty boat, floating lifejackets, debris … ”
    Tim shook his head , concern sho w ing in his expression . “I understand.”
    “ Don’t give up hope. W ith all the professionals and the volunteers, w e’ll fin d him. He’ll probably be embarrassed , as he should be.
    “ S hare w hat I tol d you w ith Sara and the others w hen they return. No w , let’s get the ‘command post’ set-up”
    Tim gave a mock salute.
    W hen the last paper and pen had been moved, Jeff explained to Tim and Sara, w ho had joined them, w hat area he