The group, which I learned was officially called The Oak Isle Treasure Trove Company, decided to hold off on any real work at the island for a week or two more. They'd been waiting out the cold season, when the ground was harder to dig through. The early spring had definitely been operating in their favor, but it seemed they weren't quite ready to tackle the pit again.
In the meantime, Dad was able to cash in one of his stocks earlier than he thought and we were saved the trouble of having to pull back money. True to his word, the long table was taken out of the office and replaced with an old dresser and daybed we got from a secondhand shop. I used my own money to help and buy some more clothes, already missing the warmth of Arizona. Everything had worked out perfectly for my stay, as if the universe had been planning it all along.
As the weeks passed, I found myself more eager to see what was really on Oak Isle. Dad tried explaining his theory to me in more detail, but it just seemed too farfetched. He had good points, obviously, and certain things fit perfectly into the puzzle, but I wasn't sold.
Finally, the day they'd agreed to survey the island arrived. It was time to craft a solid plan of action. I couldn't help the excitement humming through my veins as we drove across the manmade dirt road that connected the island to the mainland, my mind trying to conjure all the wonderful things that could possibly be hidden here under the earth.
“Here we are,” Dad said, pulling up alongside an older building, which appeared to be housing some machinery. “Are you ready?”
“Sure.” I grinned, knowing he could feel the emotions rolling off me. Unbuckling, I opened the door and breathed in the sea air. There was a bite to it, but nothing like when I'd first arrived. Unlike Arizona, Maine definitely had four distinct seasons. It warmed up fast—and cooled down just as quickly.
This part of the island had been cleared of all foliage, with two other, smaller buildings resting at the edge of the plant line. The dirt road we'd come in on ended here, in a circle drive. Grass covered the ground, the trees adding to the greenery with their leaves. And off to the side of the road, marked by scaffolding around it, and a sign, was The Treasure Pit.
“That's it?” I asked breathlessly, stepping forward hesitantly.
“Yes,” Dad answered, the same tone of awe and elation in his voice. “Go ahead and look. Be careful. They just uncovered the opening after the winter and it could be unstable. We have to check all the rigging before we can get to work.”
Nodding, I moved to investigate the mysterious pit, suddenly feeling whatever it was that drew men in and gave them the need to find out what was at the bottom. A quick check of the wooden platform told me it was steady enough to stand on. It was built around the edges of the hole and had been left uncovered through the off-season. In the middle of the square floor was the opening, which was about ten feet across. Handrails had been constructed around it, as well as a gate that blocked the ladder down into the cavity. Carefully, I approached the gap, peering over the rails to the watery depths below.
“She's something, isn't she?” Mark moved beside me and glanced inside, eyebrows furrowed as he looked. “We're going to get that water drained this year. I can feel it in my bones. Something is going to happen and we're going to get it.”
“Hey you two!” Dad waved us over. Scott and the twins were already with him. The two younger men appeared to be the ones who came out early and uncovered everything.
Joining the group, a general feeling of adventure was almost palpable between us. “What's the plan?” I asked with more enthusiasm than even I expected.
“Well, we've got two options,” Dad started. “When we stopped last season we'd been doing a lot of work in the swamp.”
“Swamp?” I interrupted.
“It's on the opposite side of the island from the main road,” Mark explained.
“We think it could hold a secondary entrance to the pit,” Scott also offered.
“We tried draining it last summer, but it didn't work,” Eric said.
“If we had a bigger pump, I bet we could get it this year,” Kevin added.
“This is true,” Dad agreed. “But we also didn't find anything in there to merit going back to it. Sure, there've been a few odd rocks here and there, but not anything worth mentioning. I think we should focus our energy on getting the Treasure Pit pumped out and finding whatever's at the bottom.”
“We'll have to do a lot of work in Pirate’s Cove if we go that route,” Scott cautioned. “The flood waters will need to be stopped somehow.”
“We could try building another dam,” Kevin suggested, adjusting the sunglasses he was wearing so they wouldn't slide down his nose. “We found the one the original builders made. We should be able to make a better one with our modern day technology.”
“You found an ancient dam?” These men never ceased to amaze me.
“We had the wood dated. It came from around fourteen to sixteen hundreds.” Eric smiled widely at me, apparently enjoying all of my questions and reactions.
“I agree on checking out the cove, but not on building the dam.” Dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully, staring out at the pit. “I think we should get the water down far enough to plug up the water trap on our own, with something that we know will hold and stay dry. Then we won't have to worry about anything breaking and flooding between here and the dam.”
“We might be able to do it with the new pump.” Scott motioned to one of the buildings that held a big truck and machine.
“What about the swamp?” Mark interrupted. “We've gotten several hits from metal detectors there. Sure, we haven't found anything yet, but that doesn't mean nothing is there.”
“If you can bring me something solid, then we'll focus more attention on it,” Dad concurred. “I want to exhaust every option there is to make sure we all look for what we want. Understood?”
The men agreed and I found myself nodding along, although I didn't really have any idea what all they were talking about. By the end of the meeting, I knew Mark was working in the swamp, Scott was doing something about the drains in Pirate’s Cove, and the twins would be working with Dad on emptying the pit.
“Sammy, why don't you go with Mark,” Dad suggested as he headed for the new pump. “Make sure he doesn't drown out there.”
“Okay.” Running my hands through my hair, I walked over to Mark’s car, where he was examining a metal detector in his trunk. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Not a problem.” He laughed. “Hop on in.”
We drove a few minutes away, down the road on the opposite side of the island. Soon, the swamp came in to view, a triangle shape that couldn't have been bigger than the area we were just in.
Catching sight of his tattoo once more, I remembered I'd never been able to finish my conversation with him on his own Treasure Pit theory.
“So, pirates, huh?” I asked as we got out of the car. “That's who you think did all of this?”
“I do,” he confirmed, popping the trunk and pulling out not only the metal detector, but a wetsuit as well. “But not just one set of pirates, oh no. I think it was a whole slew of them. A sort of bank, you know? They found one in Haiti not too long ago. This island is so complicated, I don't think anyone but a pirate would go through that much trouble to keep his gold safe.”
“But it would have taken at least a hundred men to build something like this. And they wouldn't have been able to do it in a few days either.”
“Well, there's roughly twenty eight men to a crew, based on the size of the ship. Let's say, since these pirates were obviously good at what they did, they’d have nice sized galleons. You'd only need three or four crews to have enough men. And if you traded off turns digging, say one crew works for a month and then switches with another, it would take a few months to build all this. They'd still be able to go out and pillage and plunder, but they'd have the security of knowing that they had this place to come back to.” As he spoke, he stripped his shirt and jeans of
f, revealing bike shorts. He quickly covered himself with the wet suit, pulling it on expertly.
“I thought pirates didn't trust anyone.” I watched him with interest, wondering just how in depth he was planning on searching today.
“Ah.” He chuckled. “You've just landed on the main disproving point for my theory. Everyone argues that exact thing, but I don't think it's true. Most pirate ships were run by voting. For instance, the crew picked their captain and the ones in charge, or they helped to decide where to scout and what prizes to take. I think all of the crews could have voted to do it together. After all, they did find a bank in Haiti, as I just said. So, we know it happened in other places. Why not here? This island is further into the bay, making it invisible from the open sea. This coast was a hotbed of pirates back in the day. I could easily see a couple crews wanting to hole up here and work together to lessen the load.”
“Is that a waterproof metal detector?” I finally asked. “What exactly are you planning on doing?”
“I'm going to walk into the swamp, poke around, and see if I find anything.” He shrugged, picking up his scuba gear and moving to the water’s edge. “That's about all you can do here.”
“Do you need me to do anything?”
“Not really.” He sounded apologetic. “If I'd known I was coming with company, I would have brought the boat, so you could go out, too.”
“That's okay,” I replied, smiling. “I'll just wait here. Make sure you don't drown, like Dad asked.”
He laughed loudly at that, shaking his head. “I don't come up on time once and he acts like I'm going to die every time after. I'll tell you what, Samantha, your dad sure is concerned with the welfare of his team. That's a good thing, though. He's a born leader. I'm glad we have him. If anyone's going to find the treasure, it's going to be him.”
“Here's hoping.”
Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One) Page 6
