Dr. Johnson smiled, the kind of smile that said he’d been waiting for this moment. “I’d love to.”
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. Even Frankie, who was usually incapable of standing still, stopped fidgeting.
“Let’s start,” he said, “with the facts. Here’s what we know for certain. The cargo of the ship was known to the public, including a payment of gold coins intended for the Penobscot Nation. The lighthouse went dark that night, and the ship went down during a storm. We have the keeper’s confession that he neglected to light it. I think there’s enough evidence to assume he did it intentionally.”
“But why?” Scout looked at her father. “Do you know why the keeper wanted to sabotage the ship?”
“The lighthouse keeper,” Dr. Johnson said, “was a man named Arthur Lipp. He had a deep-seated prejudice against Native Americans.”
“Oh, come on.” Chase’s voice had a skeptical tone. “This was the middle of the 1800s. Prejudice was everywhere. How can you possibly jump to that conclusion?”
Dr. Johnson carried on, unperturbed. “Took a little digging. Arthur Lipp had been a soldier in the Aroostook War of 1838–1839. The local Native Americans were caught up in the border conflict. Army records revealed that Lipp had been wounded and barely survived. After leaving the army, he applied for the post of lighthouse keeper on Baker Island. When word got out that there was gold on the ship intended for the Penobscot Nation, he saw an opportunity to even the score, and he took it.”
Frankie lunged forward, looking incredulous. “So, what? He just let the ship crash so the Indi—uh—Native Americans wouldn’t get the gold?”
“I’m convinced that’s exactly what he did,” Dr. Johnson said. “When the storm hit and the ship was wrecked, he wasted no time. He dove to the wreckage and found the gold beforeanyone else. He knew the government would send in navy divers to recover it—and once they did, it would be confiscated. And soon they did come, but they never found the gold. There are records to confirm that.”
Chase, furiously scribbling in his notepad, asked, “So, he got away with it?”
“No, he really didn’t.” Dr. Johnson hesitated. “When the ship’s passenger list was released, he recognized a name on the list. Isaac Lipp. His youngest son.”
Scout inhaled sharply. “Hisson?”
Dr. Johnson nodded solemnly. “Isaac Lipp had hitched a ride home from Boston to surprise his parents. They hadn’t seen him in years because he’d been off fighting in the Mexican-American War.”
“The Mexican-American War?” Frankie squinted, like he’d never heard of it. “Why’d a kid from Maine get caught up in that?”
“A mercenary, most likely,” Naki said quietly. “Plenty of young American men fought in wars for money.”
Chase had been scribbling notes furiously. “So what makes you assume that his parents didn’t know he was coming to see them?”
“I saw the list in the ship’s records on microfiche. The name of the son was the last entry on the passenger list, as if he’d jumped on board at the last minute.” Dr. Johnson let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, his journey home ended in tragedy. The very lighthouse that was meant to keep him safe and bring him home had been darkened.”
The room was silent. Even Frankie seemed at a loss for words.
“And then?” Chase said, his pen poised.
“According to lighthouse records, the keeper died by drowning. My assumption is that he took his own life.”
Frankie, wide-eyed, leaned forward. “So he left the confession and offed himself?”
“Frankie has a point,” Chase said. “Aren’t you jumping to a conclusion about his death by suicide?”
“His death occurred one day after the ship’s passenger list had been released. We can assume he was an excellent swimmer because he’d already retrieved the gold. The water there isn’t deep, it’s just full of rocks.”
The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the scratch of Chase’s pen.
Maisie cocked her head in confusion. “But then ... who hid the gold?”
“Excellent question, young lady,” Dr. Johnson said. “I suspect that this is the point where the keeper’s wife steps into the story. It seems she was the one who hid her husband’s confession and clues to the gold in the whale oil house.”
Chase paused from writing the flood of information. “What makes you so sure it was the lighthouse keeper’s wife?”
“Her brother was a casket maker from Bar Harbor,” Dr. Johnson said, “known for finely wrought brass trimmings. He specialized in crafting watertight boxes, each one meticulously designed to protect its contents from the elements.”
“Okay,” Chase said. “Okay. Let’s say she hid the gold. Why? Why not just spend it?”
“Everyone was looking for it, just like now. If she’d started spending it all at once, it would’ve been too obvious. So instead, she hid it around the park. Perhaps she planned to return for it over time.”
