“Through Floyd’s Prairie?” Macey scratched her spiky head. “But that’s—”
“The quickest way,” he insisted.
“Aye, aye.” Macey adjusted course, and the Mud Cat plied quickly in a new direction.
After a time, the open lakes and wide rivers turned into prairie. Swamp prairies looked a lot like the prairies of the Midwest, only here the grass was flooded. Macey nosed the boat’s prow into the fringe. The grass and sedge parted, and the Mud Cat motored through it slowly.
“This is Floyd’s Prairie.” The excitement Perch had shown at the start of the tour was gone. His voice was terse and level now. “I want to show you folks something.”
“Perch?” Macey seemed as confused as the passengers.
“Slide us over to a hammock,” the captain ordered.
“What’s a hammock?” Creeper asked. “You mean like the kind of net you sleep in?”
“No. You’ll see,” said Perch. “Be patient.”
The boat broke through the far side of the “field” and slid out into a pond. At the center of the pond, floating on the surface, were three or four enormous mats of partially decayed vegetation. The largest was maybe thirty feet across. Macey swung the boat parallel and sidled up to it.
“Why are we here?” Piper was in no mood for jaunty side trips.
“Again with the detours!” Tad huffed.
Perch didn’t reply. He sat on the gunwale and swung his legs over the side of the Mud Cat. Using the boat for leverage, he stood up on the mat. It held his weight. Then, after a dark glance back at Tad and Piper, Perch walked to the middle of the mat, turned, and addressed the group.
“This thing I’m currently standing on is called a peat hammock. It is one of the defining features of the swamp. Peat is made up of bits of decayed plants and other organic material. There are thousands of hammocks in the swamp, most of them here in the prairies. Hammocks are formed when peat collects at the bottom of the swamp. Over time, methane gas builds up inside the peat, eventually ripping big chunks of it free. Those chunks float to the surface, just like the one I’m standing on. They can get thick. Ten to fifteen feet thick. Thick enough for people to walk on. Thick enough to support trees.”
“What’s your point?” said Tad. “I thought we told you to head straight to Minnie’s Island!”
“You’re right, you did,” said Perch. “But unfortunately that won’t be possible today. This concludes your tour of the Okefenokee. Remember, tips are appreciated.”
Piper was a mix of confused and furious. “What are you talking about?”
Perch spelled it out for her, this time without the droll antics. “Macey will take you back to the launch. Without me. I’m officially marooning myself here.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?” Tad asked. “Because it’s not funny.”
Piper turned to Macey. “Why is he doing this?”
Macey just shrugged. “I don’t know—ask him.”
Perch gave them a fluttering wave that segued from a salute to a brush-off. “Don’t come back now, ya hear?”
“Get in the boat.” Tad didn’t like Perch much, but he didn’t want to strand him either. The Oke wasn’t the kind of place where you leave someone behind and feel good about yourself.
“I’ll make you a deal, Taddy,” said Perch. “Why don’t you come out on the hammock and escort me back to the Mud Cat? If you can reach me, I promise I’ll come quietly. And then we can head straight to Minnie. My word.”
“You heard him.” Piper nudged Tad with her elbow. “Go get him.”
“Go get him? Seriously?” Going and getting Perch seemed like the bonehead idea of the century. Worse, it felt like a trap. He didn’t trust Perch as far as he could throw him. If Piper did, she was crazy. And if she didn’t, then why was she sending him out on the hammock after the kid? It was something he needed to think about.
“Are you man enough, Taddy?” Perch taunted.
“Ugh. This is ridiculous.” Tad slid across the bench to the starboard side of the Mud Cat and stood up. “Fine. Here I come, ready or not.”
Perch smiled slyly and said, “Oh, I’m ready.”
Tad climbed out of the boat and touched down in a crouch on the hammock. The peat beneath his feet sank several inches, and water rushed in around his ankles. It poured into the top of his sneakers, soaking his socks. “What the—?”
Piper scooted over to the gunwale to see if she could be helpful. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Tad steadied and pushed himself into a standing position. He looked like a newborn deer finding its legs for the first time.
Perch goaded him forward. “Well, come on, then. Come get me.”
Tad took a step, and the peat sank farther. The water rose to the bottom of his calves. He took a third step, then a fourth. The hammock shook beneath him. When he was halfway between the boat and Perch, Tad came to a halt. His legs were shivering as he struggled to stay upright. Beads of sweat bloomed on his forehead. Perch, on the other hand, looked comfortable. Like he was standing on a sidewalk.
“I can’t go any farther,” Tad said. “I think the peat is starting to weaken. I don’t want to fall through it. Perch…help me. What do I do?”
“That’s a real good question,” said Perch. “I’ve got a question for you too. Tell me, Tad, do you know how the Okefenokee got its name?”
Tad furrowed his moist brow. “This isn’t the time for a history lesson!”
“It’s the perfect time,” said Perch. “Hundreds of years ago, the Creek Indians named this swamp the Okefenokee. It means ‘trembling earth.’ I suppose you can guess why. These peat hammocks float on the water, unanchored to the swamp bed. They’re unstable. They tremble when you walk on them. You can feel this one trembling right now, can’t you, Tad? The Creeks were a nimble people. They could cross hammocks with ease. I haven’t quite mastered it myself, but I’ve had practice, as you can see. There’s a secret to it. I once watched a tourist fall through a hammock and plunge twenty feet to the bottom. Poor guy, ended up as alligator chow. I’ve been handing out liability wavers ever since.”
“You’re lying!” Tad snapped.
“Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t. There’s only one way to find out. Take another step.”
Tad was frozen in an awkward position. It felt to him like a move in any direction would send him plummeting through the peat. “Why are you doing this? Are you a psychopath? Is that it? Are you trying to get me killed?”
Perch scratched his head. “That’s up to you. I’ll tell you what: I’ll let you in on the secret to walking safely on a hammock—”
“Yes, tell me!”
“—but only if you share your little secret first.”
“Secret? What are you—? Ack!” The peat sank another three inches toward the bottom, and Tad threw his arms out like airplane wings to steady himself.
“I should warn you,” said Perch. “If you fall through, the peat will seal up above you. You’ll drown. Or get eaten by an alligator. Or maybe you’ll sink into the mud, and someone will find your body in two hundred years. Bog Man Tad. It has a nice ring to it.”
“What do you want from him?” Piper yelled.
Perch yelled back. “I want to know what it is you folks are really doing here in the Oke! So far it’s been nothing but a pack of lies.”
“We told you,” said Piper. “We’re looking for flowers.”
Perch’s eyes narrowed. “Sticking to that story, huh? People who come to the Oke to look for flowers don’t go to Minnie’s Island. There’s nothing special on Minnie.” He gave them a sly look. “Or is there? You folks are after something—of that I have no doubt. I heard you whispering about a Dr. Cole. I’m familiar with all the legends in these parts, and I know all about that plant hunter. I know he came here looking for a unique flower. A silver flower. You’ve been lying to me from the get-go. Using me and my boat too. Listen up, Tad. If you want my help getting back to the Mud Cat, then you’ll fess up. This
time I want the truth. Otherwise you can sink, for all I care.”
Tad would never betray Piper’s trust. “My lips are sealed.”
Perch growled. “Fine, have a nice swim.” He started bouncing up and down on the hammock, causing it to quake and Tad to totter.
“All right!” Piper cried out. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to save Tad.”
“Go on,” Perch said. “I’m all ears.”
Keeping the story brief for Tad’s sake, Piper opened up and told Perch about Grace, Tad’s connection to Dr. Brisbane Cole, the botanist’s incomplete journal, and the silver flower that had been the object of Cole’s search now was hers. She cried as she confessed everything. When she finished, there was a long pause of silence intruded upon only by the distant clucking of alligator hatchlings calling for their mother.
Perch didn’t say anything at first. He looked up at the sun and then down at his feet. Everywhere but at Piper. Finally, in a tone laced with unexpected tenderness, he said, “I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
Piper lifted the collar of her T-shirt to her face and dabbed her eyes. “Why not?”
“Because I’d be giving you false hope, that’s why. Look, I’ve been all over the Oke, even down to the part that spills into Florida. I’ve never seen anything like the flower Cole was searching for. Not once. It’s just an old legend. Folks gave up looking for it long ago.”
Macey, who hadn’t said a word to this point, finally spoke. “Kids, even if this flower was around back when yer plant feller was alive, it’s probably extinct now. Something that rare…you have to understand—the Oke draws lightning like an outhouse draws flies. It’s a magnet for electrical storms. During months so dry that the catfish carry canteens, the lightning starts fires. This swamp burned to a crisp four times over since I was born, and, no, I’m not telling ya my age. There’ve been fires in the Oke every twenty years or so since folks started keeping record back in 1860. Had a big one in 2007 and one again in 2011. Each time, hundreds of thousands of acres burn. Maybe the reason no one’s seen your silver flower is because it was burned up too.”
“Macey is right,” said Perch. “The trees on Minnie are relatively new timber.”
Piper’s heart sank. If the old trees were gone, Cole’s marker was gone with them. There was nothing left to point the way. Without that marker they could wander aimlessly for years and still not find the silver flower. “I guess…I guess that’s it, then.”
“No! We can’t give up!” Creeper declared. Piper had never seen such a look of bold resolve on his face, not even the time he tried to talk their parents into letting him climb the giant Christmas tree at the mall. “We owe it to Grace to at least try. Just one day, Perch. Let us look for one day. Please!”
Piper was proud of him. Maybe there was hope for her brother yet.
“I admire your conviction, Creeper. I really do,” said Perch. “But I think it’d be best if—”
“Let’s take a vote.” Creeper threw his hand straight up in the air like he was snatching birds. “I vote we stay and look.”
Perch knew Creeper wouldn’t give up until he had his vote. “All righty, Almighty. We’ll vote. Raise your hand if you want to stay out here and drag out this wild-goose chase.”
Piper and Tad raised their hands and brought the count to three.
Victorious, Creeper dropped his hand into his lap. “Three to one. We keep looking.”
“That’s all fine and well,” Perch said. “Unfortunately, maritime rules say the ship captain’s vote counts as three and tie goes to the captain. At least that’s the way it works on the Mud Cat. And I say we leave. I intend to spare you from a colossal waste of time when you could be home spending every minute you can with your sweet baby sister. That’s what I’d be doing. That’s what you should do too. Fire up the engine, Macey. We’re going home.”
But an unexpected thing happened. Macey raised one massive paw. “The tally is four to three,” she said. “Sorry, son, but I’m siding with the kids.”
“Mace?” Perch’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. He wasn’t used to being undermined by his first mate.
“Close yer jaw before a bird comes along and builds a nest in yer mouth.” Her words were typical Macey, but her tone was much softer, almost maternal. “I think we should give them the day.”
Perch didn’t understand. “If this is about the money they paid, they can have it back.”
Macey sighed. “It’s not about the money, boy. It’s about family. The Oke gets half a million tourists every year. Most people come here for this or that, birds or brags. Theirs is the best reason I’ve heard yet. They’re here on account of family.”
“But, Macey—”
She didn’t let him finish. “Now, that’s not to say yer wrong either, Perch. Finding that flower is as likely as finding an otter on the moon, but these kids deserve the chance to look, and we owe them our help. But it’s your boat, Perch; democracy be hanged. You decide.”
Perch looked from Macey, to Piper, to Creeper, then back to Piper again. “All right, if that’s what y’all want. I spoke my piece on the subject, but I guess Macey makes a good point. There’s nothing more important than family. But we still have a problem.”
“You’re right, I do!” Tad said. A frog swam between his ankles. “Piper told you the truth. Now you keep your word and tell me what to do.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Perch said. “I’m talking about your plan. Macey told y’all: Cole’s marker was probably lost in a forest fire. Without it we’ll need a new course of action. Do you even have one?”
“Yes, I think so,” Piper answered. “I mean, yes, I do.”
“All righty, then,” Perch said. “Let’s get on out of here.”
He strolled across the hammock, just beyond Tad’s reach, and climbed aboard the Mud Cat.
“Hey! What about me?” Tad asked. “You can’t just leave me!”
Perch lifted the lid of the bench closest to the bow and retrieved a spool of inch-thick rope from stowage.
“Great!” Tad reached out eagerly, wriggling his fingers at Perch. “Throw me an end.”
But Perch didn’t toss him the end of the line. He tossed the whole heavy spool instead. Tad yelped and caught it in his arms. The weight of the spool, added to his own, sent him plummeting straight down through the peat.
But he didn’t disappear beneath the surface. Instead, he found himself standing in water that came up to his knees. His face turned an interesting shade of red.
“You tricked me!” he shouted.
“That’s right,” said Perch. “I’d never intentionally put anyone in danger. If you knew me, you’d know that. The prairies are shallow, barely two feet deep in most spots. I made up that part about the tourist falling through. I’m not fond of fibbing, but I needed answers, and I got them. But you lied to me first, so now we’re even. And I hope I proved a point. You don’t know squat about the Oke. Not the depth of her water or the depth of her danger. That’s why I expect y’all to listen to me from now on. No ifs, ands, or buts. I’m in charge. Got it?”
They got it.
Perch waved Tad over. “Bring that rope with you. I’m sure I’m gonna need it today.”
“What for?” Creeper asked.
Perch sighed deeply. “To strangle y’all for talking me into this mess.”
The Field Notes of Botanist Dr. Brisbane Cole
August 9, 1823
Again Micanopy displays his sense of humor at my expense, only this time I find his joke more frustrating than amusing. Neither of the guides he assigned to my expedition speak English, and perhaps more frustrating, the younger is barely thirteen, little more than a boy! The man is named Nokosi (which, as I learned at supper, is the Seminole word for “bear”). The boy, Bolek, is the chief’s nephew. It is clear from his constant mumbling and glowering that he is no more amicable to the arrangement than I. Would I could, I’d send him back to his mother, posthaste, but to
reject any part of Micanopy’s generosity would be to surrender the rest, and without the use of his canoes, I would be figuratively and literally dead in the water.
At first light, my assistants carried our supplies to the shore and loaded them into two dugout canoes, hollowed-out vessels carved from cypress logs. Nokosi and I share one canoe while Bolek transports our supplies in the other. The boy stares at me with seething contempt, but he follows Nokosi’s commands, and Nokosi follows mine. This pecking order makes the arrangement bearable.
The plan is simple. We’ll spend our days on the water, in search of the silver flower, and our nights camping on one of the swamp’s central islands. I have every confidence that we will find the flower within the week.
We paddled toward the rising sun. A mantle of mist hovered above the water, obscuring our way, turning twisted trees into wizards, demons, and Plesiosaurs. The vocalizations of hidden creatures rise and fall as we pass. The Okefenokee Swamp is as mysterious and foreign as any land I’ve ever explored. China, Borneo, India, my dreams...there is no greater diversity of life or landscape on earth than here in this quixotic place. I will return with my beloved someday so that she can see this place firsthand. My account will not do justice to this ever-shifting watery realm, where nature both placates death and conquers it.
Now that the jig was up, Piper felt no qualms about sharing Dr. Cole’s journal with Perch and Macey. With Minnie’s Island dismissed as a dead end, Piper’s off-the-cuff plan B was put into action. They would travel to a different island, the one Cole returned to every night after spending his day looking for the silver flower.
Perch glanced at the map in the journal and recognized the spot immediately. “That’s Billy’s Island.” He tapped a shape on the map, which, from above, looked a bit like an owl perched on the brush bow of a snow sled. “It’s the most famous in the swamp, named after Billy Bowlegs, one of the last Seminole chiefs to live in the Oke. The man was a great fighter. During the Third Seminole War, Billy and his two hundred men conducted guerilla-style raids on white settlers, retreating to this island afterward. The army was powerless to stop him. Billy’s Island is a regular highlight of my tours.”
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