All
That Glitters… 
Alan piloted the Boston Whaler through
brilliant Caribbean water that slid beneath the bow in crystal hues of
turquoise and sapphire. He rented
the boat with his old college buddy Tony to explore the islands and to engage
in what Tony called a "historical currency expedition" - a treasure
hunt. What a way to spend two
weeks of vacation!
He and Tony had met when they worked
together at Bruno's restaurant to support their "college habit". Eventually, they graduated after squeezing
a few classes in between work and parties and road trips to the Florida
beaches. They had a particular
fondness for the ocean, and made trips for Spring Break, Memorial Day, summer
solstice, and any other excuse they could invent. Tony got married and moved out of state, but they kept in touch
and promised each other they would get together for a big trip one day.
One afternoon in July, Tony called Alan
and said that he had vacation time coming, and he didn't want to waste it on
his in-laws again. Alan had been
brewing up a scheme for a couple of years now, doing whatever research he could
from home. Suddenly, the
opportunity presented itself when Tony called. They all met at the Miami airport, and Tony's wife continued
on to visit her family. Then,
after dutifully expressing their regrets, the "Dos Amigos" headed
south for the Virgin Islands, determined to find some lost youth, and maybe, a
sunken treasure.
When he was just a kid, Alan's grandfather
would visit between long stints at sea.
During those visits, his grandfather would tell tall tales of tall
ships, great storms, and buried treasure waiting to be found in beautiful,
remote places. Alan had always
thought his grandfather was a ship's captain, he'd only just recently learned
the truth while talking with long lost relatives at his brother's wedding. Alan was born the
son-of-a-son-of-a-sea-cook; a heritage that bore itself out in his love of the
ocean and Jamaican and Creole cooking.
Most of his grandfather's stories were a
vague memory to Alan, but there was one that sparked his imagination. It was grandfather's tale of the time
he was shipwrecked in the
Caribbean. Perhaps it rang a little more truthful
than some of the others, or maybe it had just been repeated more often.
Grandfather spent two years working on
ships that plied the Mississippi River before he finally got a chance to crew
an ocean going vessel, the S.S. Thorfin.
It was a tired old
steamer running mail through
the Bahamas down the Windward Islands and finally to South America. In 1908 he was still a boy of 17, and
not above a little hard work in exchange for a few dollars and the promise of
adventure.
A storm came upon them as they moved
through Drake's Passage, once famous for pirate activity. Literally a hundred small islands
dotted each side of the deep passage,
and pirates used this natural
cover to hide and ambush heavily laden Spanish galleons using the channel. Drake's Passage was the only safe
way through the treacherous and
uncharted reefs that lurked
beneath the surface all around.
The
crew of the S.S. Thorfin were
thankful for that same cover that protected the pirates as the huge storm
battered the tiny islands which offered little resistance to the
howling winds. They dropped anchor in a small cove to
wait out the storm. After it
passed, the thankful sailors tried to lift the anchor, but it was snagged in
the coral. The
captain gave the order to cut
it loose and make a run for open water.
This was a terrible mistake.
In those times little was known of hurricanes, including the phenomenon
of
the calm winds in the
center. As they reached open
water, they were bashed by the back side of the storm. With no anchor to hold their position,
the winds drove them up on the
reef. The ship broke up and
sank.
Alan's grandfather was able to float on
some debris back to the small island they had used for shelter. Banged up and bruised, most of the crew
were picked up two days later by a passing freighter. Ten of them were never seen again, either going down with
the ship or swept past the islands by the wind and waves into the oblivion of
an endless ocean. A strongbox in
the captain's quarters was never recovered. It was rumored to contain a hundred thousand silver U.S.
dollars destined for a bank in Puerto Rico. Island people still did not trust paper money.
Alan's research revealed the locals didn't
remember the wreck, so it was probably away from any inhabited islands. A few old timers remembered a big
storm, but it may not have been the same one. Reports of the incident were vague about the location of the
wreck, citing only the port of origination and the final destination. The ship's manifests
were lost in a 1934 fire at
the Miami customs house. There was
very little to go on but some very old stories...
The search would be limited to the
uninhabited islands between Tortola and Virgin Gorda based on the route
outlined in grandfather's tale.
Alan would explore those with coves matching his grandfather's
description of the place the Thorfin had waited out the storm. He hoped it was still in big enough
pieces to show on the side scan radar.
Sometimes the boilers would explode when sea water hit the hot
crankcase, scattering debris across the ocean floor.
After days of searching and some
interesting diving on every bump on the bottom, Tony and Alan came across
something that looked promising.
About 200 yards off Carambola Cay was a blip that didn't look natural.
The locals didn't fish there, because a
"devil-fish" would steal their nets. Sometimes, those that went overboard to retrieve a lost net
never returned. "Tony,"
Alan joked,
"Be sure to wear your
ugly green wetsuit - that ought to scare any devil-fish away!" They both laughed, but it was nervous
laughter too loud for the joke. An
ominous warning
from the locals was the type
of threat you don't take lightly.
If the locals won't fish somewhere, there is a good reason, no matter
how fantastic the story that surrounds it.
But they wanted to check out the wreck,
and the warm clear Caribbean water seemed to hold no treacherous secrets. They
would carry knives to free themselves of any nets that might be snagged on the
wreck, and they would stick close together to handle any emergency that might
come up. There could be a bad
current or other natural phenomenon to blame for the missing fishermen, but
they would have a lot more
time to deal with it using
SCUBA gear, a luxury the local fishermen didn't enjoy.
When all contingencies were planned for,
they set out for the area of the wreck.
They dropped anchor near the suspicious blip, and prepared to go
down. The wreckage would
be very near the wall that
sloped off hundreds of feet into the famous channel.
Dropping off the side of the boat, they
were surrounded by yellow-tailed snappers and brightly colored tropicals
curious about the strangers. A
lone barracuda eyed them from
the shadows beneath the
boat. He yawned just inches from
Alan's mask baring needle sharp teeth as big around as your little finger. The locals hadn't done much fishing
here -
the fish had no fear of humans.
At 90 feet, they reached a sandy
shelf. Tony and Alan then began
going back and forth in a search pattern, gradually moving toward the deeper
water. Then they saw it
- a ghostly shadow at the edge
of visibility. It was the skeleton
of a ship, about the right size to be the Thorfin.
It was
laying upright almost, listing about 20 degrees to port, in 110 feet of
water. Their bottom time was up,
so they would surface for a while before continuing the search.
At
this depth, they had less than 20 minutes before decompression would be
required, and a tank of air didn't last much longer. Tony swam over to the ship and tied off a small float so
they could find it easier next time.
By the time they reached the surface, Tony
was counting his share of the treasure.
Alan tried to tell him that this might not even be the right wreck. But secretly, Alan was
feeling lucky too. He tried not to get carried away, but
it was great to think that his dream of exploring a part of his history
firsthand might come true. It had
been a long and
fruitless search to this point
and it was hard to keep his composure.
Everything was going their way, and there was no dangerous current or
any "devil-fish".
Alan was sure they had a chance of
identifying the wreck on their next dive.
It looked to be fairly intact, and undisturbed by any other divers. If so, the ship's bell should still be
there. The name of the ship is
usually inscribed on the brass bell, which doesn't deteriorate very badly in
seawater.
When they had enough surface time, Tony
and Alan geared up for their second attempt at the wreck. Since the wreck was so deep, they took
the extra precaution of hanging their last 2 tanks with spare regulators at 10
feet in case they overstayed their bottom time or ran low on air. They filled their Goodie bags with a
chisel, hammer, a short pry bar, and a lift bag to bring up anything that might
be too heavy to carry to the surface.
They checked out their gear and rolled off the boat. They snorkeled over to the little
pop-up float that marked the wreck's position.
"This
is it!" said Tony as they switched to their regulators, dumped the
air from their BC's and
started down the line. Down they
went into the darkening blue depths, the thin white string pointing towards the
mystery engulfed in shadows. It was
like following a rainbow - the
end seemed forever just beyond Finally they could see the
wreck. They followed the contours
looking for the wheelhouse. That's
where the ship's bell would be.
Then Tony found it. You couldn't
even make out the true shape of the bell, it was just a lump of growth just
above the wheelhouse. Alan pulled
out the tools and began working on the bell. He didn't want to wait until tomorrow to see if he was right
or wrong. Tony signaled that he
was going to look around a bit while Alan hammered.
Actually,
Tony was looking for the silver coins.
If he found any of them, he didn't care what the name of the ship
was. This was obviously
undiscovered as yet, and Tony's thoughts were filled with gleaming treasure
even if the ship's hold wasn't. He
went to the bottom and started sifting the sand for coins. He must have been a little
"narced", because he
was drawn out of his search reluctantly by a beeping sound. The heavy concentration of nitrogen on
deep dives could cause nitrogen narcosis, making a diver act drunk and careless. That beeping sound was Tony's dive
computer warning that he had stayed too deep for too long. He would have to make a decompression
stop on the way up. No more diving
today.
He
checked his air - 500 pounds. Plenty enough to reach the surface, but he was glad they thought to hang
the tanks over. He would have to
spend about 10 minutes in decompression, and he didn't have enough for that
without the extra air. He went
over to Alan and signaled he was going up. Alan had freed the bell on one side, and told Tony he would
try to finish before heading up. He hadn't been so deep, and he still had about
5 minutes before he would be into decompression. Tony then followed the line toward the shining tropical
sun. At 20 feet, he would head for
the spare tanks.
One last whack with the hammer, and the
bell came free. It dropped in slow motion to the deck and because of the
incline began to roll to the edge.
He reached for it just
before it went over into the
sand below, but two small pale hands snatched it away. "I knew nitrogen narcosis could make
you a bit giddy, but I didn't think you would have
hallucinations" Alan
thought to himself.
He peered over the rusting cleats into the
most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
They were as green as emeralds, playing hide and seek behind the long dark
ringlets of hair that danced around her face. This was a real mermaid - definitely no sea cow! As he reached toward her she pulled
back, clutching the ship's bell to her naked bosom. She had a tail instead of legs, but it wasn't covered in
scales like a fish. Instead it had a smooth, slippery appearance like the skin
of a whale or dolphin, and it was the same alabaster white as the rest of her
skin. As he stared at her, Alan
felt a painful tightness in the crotch of his wetsuit despite the cold water. He was at the same time fascinated and
repulsed by the lovely and
bizarre creature he thought was merely a fantastic legend. As he stared at her, it seemed she
began to glow with a light of her own.
Something in Alan's muddy mind tried to
reach consciousness - She wasn't glowing, the water was growing darker around
her. Somehow, they had drifted
down. Alan's
mind was screaming that he was
in deadly danger now; the deep wreck was like the shadow of a toy way above
them. But as much as his mind was
screaming to head for safety, his body would not cooperate. He remained motionless, slowly sinking.
As he was looking up, she
startled him by touching his arm. He looked back into those emerald eyes as he drew
the last breath from his tank. She
touched his cheek and drew him closer as they kissed. His lungs burned as salt water poured in. The sun so far above, faded into
complete blackness.
Tony finished his decompression stop and
climbed aboard the boat. He was
beginning to get worried - Alan should have met him on the line. Tony considered the options. The coast guard would take too long to
get here if Alan was in trouble. He had just finished a decompression dive and
was already at risk for a case of the bends without going back down there
again. Also, they were down to one
full tank and a couple of partials. It wasn't much for 2 divers to make a
decompression stop with. But Tony
would have to take the risk of going right back down or Alan might not have a
chance.
Tony rigged the full tank with two
regulators and returned it to 10 feet.
He pulled up the tank he had used for the decompression stop, and mounted
his gear on it. He looked around
for telltale bubbles rising to the surface. He could see none.
Tony said a little prayer as he dropped back into the water and swam for
the float. He did a quick
surface dive and swam down the
line as fast as his ears would allow.
Tony got to where the bell was, and saw
that Alan had gotten it free. Alan
was nowhere to be seen. Where the
hell could he have gone then? He
would owe Tony big for this stunt.
Then something flashed in the dim light. Something shiny was reflecting on the sand bottom. As he swam over to it, he realized it was
a silver dollar, just as bright and polished as if had just been dropped
there. Now he had just combed this
whole area looking for gold or coins; he couldn't believe he had missed this. And over there, just at the edge of
visibility was another. As Tony
neared it, he could see another.
Was Alan completely narced out and playing some silly game with
him? What was he using for air? Alan must be down for nearly an hour
now. That was about how long a
tank lasted him at half this
depth - he should have run out a while ago. But the only thing that seemed amiss was these damn coins
that appeared out of nowhere. Tony
could think of nothing else but to follow them.
Something moved away from him, into the
deeper water. He couldn't make out
what it was, just a shadow of sorts.
Actually, it was something that was a bit lighter than the
cold blue of the deep
water. Alan's wetsuit had a high
visibility yellow panel on the front, perhaps it was him.
As he swam for the strange shape, Tony
peeked at his computer. It was in
violation mode now - all it would do is tell him his depth, 180 feet. They would be very lucky to
get out of this one
alive. They would have to breath
this tank dry at 20 feet, go up to the full one and empty it at 10 feet, then
go up to the boat and hope they could get the coast guard out there before the
bends kicked in. They would be
spending some time in the chamber on St. Thomas for sure - if they were
lucky. Actually, Tony was beginning
to think he would be coming back alone; and his own chances were getting
slimmer by the second. This tank
was now half empty, there was not much chance that Alan had anything left
unless he had sprouted gills. Tony
was lost in his own thoughts as he
fought back the narcosis; his
concentration was failing.
Suddenly, there was Alan - sitting against
a full chest of shining coins. It
was a sight straight out of an old pirate movie. But Alan didn't look right. Had he run out of air following
his way down to the treasure? Why
was he just sitting there? Was the
"Devil-fish" really a large octopus that had grabbed Alan? There was a black cloud like octopus
ink surrounding him.
When he got close enough to see clearly,
Tony's stomach dumped hot bile in his throat. Alan had a huge hole in his left side; There were ribs
poking out of the opening. That
black cloud was Alan's blood, devoid of it's color at this depth. Tony's heart raced and he was drawing
air from the regulator with all his might, but it felt like he was sucking a
milkshake through a cocktail straw.
He fought the panic and the narcosis with all the will power he could
muster.
Tony repeated to himself that whatever had
gotten Alan wasn't here anymore.
Perhaps some scavenging fish had found Alan before he did, and was
scared off as Tony approached. He
would use Alan's lift bag to bring him to the surface so he could be buried
properly. No one ever thinks about
what happens to their body when they ask to be buried at sea. Tony couldn't believe Alan would take a
risk like coming down
here with little or no air,
but nitrogen narcosis can do some weird things. So can the sight of a pile of treasure!
That huge chest of bright silver coins
helped distract Tony from thoughts of fearsome monsters. He finally got his breathing under
control and looked at his gauges - he was
getting low on air again. But maybe he could load Alan's goodie
bag with a few coins first...
As he reached for the silver, a splendid
vision appeared from the depths.
"A goddamn living, breathing, mermaid!" Tony said inside his
regulator. She swam in tight
circles
around Tony, coming almost
near enough to touch. Tony stared
in awe while reaching for the next handful. Suddenly he felt her firm muscular
body slide against his back and stop there. He shivered as cold water poured into his wetsuit, her tiny
hands caressing his chest and sliding the zipper down to his stomach. Tony turned to face her, to look into
those green hypnotic eyes. He
could feel her naked breasts against his bare chest. "I guess she doesn't agree this wetsuit is the ugliest
thing in the ocean..." Tony thought.
As he reached out to pull her even closer,
it felt like a cannonball hit him in the chest, knocking him into the pile of
shining silver. The ship's bell
spilled out onto the sand
as the glittering coins formed
a shimmering halo around it.
The
mermaid held Tony's still beating heart in her hand, taking a bite out of it
like some large, grotesque apple.
Tony lay on the ocean floor next to his buddy. The Devil-
fish had claimed two more
victims. The Thorfin slumbered on,
waiting patiently on the bottom, like all good bait should...