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Fantasy Fan, v. 1, issue 4, December 1933

Page 53

Birkett's Twelfth Corpse

by August W. Derleth

The wall of hate that stood between the two old rivermen, Fred Birkett and Hank Blum, had grown from a strange and gruesome rivalry -- the finding of dead bodies of persons drowned int he Wisconsin River at Sac Prairie. At the time of the tragic drowning of Bud Enders, the rivermen were tied--each had found eleven bodies in the past forty years. It was said by each of them, and repeated in Sac Prairie, that Bud Enders' body would decide the contest.
The sympathy of Sac Prairie was with Birkett, a kindly old man in contrast to the sullen surliness of Blum, who was, too, somewhat younger. Birkett had always joked about his odd luck at finding bodies in the river, and still looked upon his almost uncanny way of knowing where the bodies had been taken by the swift current as more amusing than not. But Blum had brooded upon his rival's luck ever since Birkett had earned a five-hundred dollar reward for finding the corpse of a young student who had fallen into the Wisconsin while drunk, almost a decade before. Now Blum made no effort conceal his violent hatred for Birkett, nor could Birkett keep down his dislike for his rival.
Bud Enders was drowned on a warm night in July, and twenty boats put out from Sac Prairie within an hour after he went down. Fred Birkett and Hank Blum were among them. Both the old men headed downstream, knowing by long past experience that the swift current in mid-channel, where the youth was drawn under, would quickly roll the body below Sac Prairie toward the long clay river bank southeast of the village, locally known as the Yellowbanks district.
Toward dawn, Fred Birkett found Bud Enders' body, rolling along in shallow but swift water crossing a sandbar just above the Yellowbanks. The moon was out, and he had no difficulty seeing the body, which he immediately caught with a boathook and secured to the boat without taking it from the water. Then he edged his boat out of the current and made swiftly upstream.
Just where Hiney's Slough enters the Wisconsin, he met Blum. He could not help boasting. "Just made my dozen," he called to Hank in a gruff, yet faintly triumphant voice.
Blum turned his boat and swung across current toward him.
Birkett rested on his oars. Unaware of the fury that consumed his rival, he went on, "Well, we couldn't both find him. Let the best man win, I always said," and smiled in the satisfaction of feeling himself the better of the two.
Blum had said nothing, but now he was looking cautiously upstream and down, his eyes scanning the surface of the water for sight of any boat, his ears waiting to catch any sound that might indicate the approach of other searchers. The two boats lay in quiet water, away from the current.
Whether or not Birkett heard Blum loosen and jerk out one oar is problematical. He turned toward Blum just as the oar descended and caught him a glancing blow on the side of the head, top_

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Birkett's Twelfth Corpse by August W. Derleth The wall of hate that stood between the two old rivermen, Fred Birkett and Hank Blum, had grown from a strange and gruesome rivalry -- the finding of dead bodies of persons drowned int he Wisconsin River at Sac Prairie. At the time of the tragic drowning of Bud Enders, the rivermen were tied--each had found eleven bodies in the past forty years. It was said by each of them, and repeated in Sac Prairie, that Bud Enders' body would decide the contest. The sympathy of Sac Prairie was with Birkett, a kindly old man in contrast to the sullen surliness of Blum, who was, too, somewhat younger. Birkett had always joked about his odd luck at finding bodies in the river, and still looked upon his almost uncanny way of knowing where the bodies had been taken by the swift current as more amusing than not. But Blum had brooded upon his rival's luck ever since Birkett had earned a five-hundred dollar reward for finding the corpse of a young student who had fallen into the Wisconsin while drunk, almost a decade before. Now Blum made no effort conceal his violent hatred for Birkett, nor could Birkett keep down his dislike for his rival. Bud Enders was drowned on a warm night in July, and twenty boats put out from Sac Prairie within an hour after he went down. Fred Birkett and Hank Blum were among them. Both the old men headed downstream, knowing by long past experience that the swift current in mid-channel, where the youth was drawn under, would quickly roll the body below Sac Prairie toward the long clay river bank southeast of the village, locally known as the Yellowbanks district. Toward dawn, Fred Birkett found Bud Enders' body, rolling along in shallow but swift water crossing a sandbar just above the Yellowbanks. The moon was out, and he had no difficulty seeing the body, which he immediately caught with a boathook and secured to the boat without taking it from the water. Then he edged his boat out of the current and made swiftly upstream. Just where Hiney's Slough enters the Wisconsin, he met Blum. He could not help boasting. "Just made my dozen," he called to Hank in a gruff, yet faintly triumphant voice. Blum turned his boat and swung across current toward him. Birkett rested on his oars. Unaware of the fury that consumed his rival, he went on, "Well, we couldn't both find him. Let the best man win, I always said," and smiled in the satisfaction of feeling himself the better of the two. Blum had said nothing, but now he was looking cautiously upstream and down, his eyes scanning the surface of the water for sight of any boat, his ears waiting to catch any sound that might indicate the approach of other searchers. The two boats lay in quiet water, away from the current. Whether or not Birkett heard Blum loosen and jerk out one oar is problematical. He turned toward Blum just as the oar descended and caught him a glancing blow on the side of the head, top_