‘Hang on,’ said Dan. ‘Let’s not give up straightaway. If you recall, the diary said that the ingots and coins were placed on a natural shelf in a hidden recess in the furthest cave. The first cave we came to was furthest away to Captain Felipe walking from the shore. On our way back, we ought to check it thoroughly and see if we have overlooked any part of it.’
‘Whatever was here will have been plundered,’ said Louise, ‘and you shone your torch round that cave and didn’t find anything.’
‘I flicked my torch around and it looked empty. We need to go along the entire perimeter, checking the walls carefully. It’s a good sign if that shelf Felipe wrote about in his diary is easy to miss – that means there’s still a chance that whatever he put there has never been discovered.’
It was with low expectations that they returned to the first cave. They walked round it, running their hands over the smooth, cold walls. Suddenly, John seemed to disappear into thin air.
‘Hey John, where are you?’ shouted Dan, alarmed, flashing his torch around the cave.
‘I’m here,’ called John. Dan walked over in the direction of his voice, still unable to see him. He found himself stepping into a gap behind what was effectively a false wall – a natural rocky barrier beyond which the cave extended several feet further.
‘Where are you both?’ shouted Emma, alarmed that Dan had also disappeared.
‘Don’t worry girls,’ came John’s muffled voice. ‘The cave is actually much bigger than we thought, there’s a hidden recess and we’re having a quick look inside it.’
‘Let us come in there too,’ replied Emma, anxiously.
John shone the torch through the gap so the girls could follow the beam.
‘Look Dan,’ said John, turning to him. ‘See how the wall appears to recede up there, with about a two-foot gap to the roof?’
Dan nodded. He stretched out his arm but the gap was beyond reach.
‘Let me give you a leg up,’ said John, ‘and you might be able to clamber up.’
After a couple of attempts, John managed to propel Dan onto what turned out to be a natural shelf in the rock. He just about had room to crouch. John had put both their torches on the ground during these acrobatics, and Dan was in virtual darkness, feeling more than a little uneasy.
John reached and passed up his torch. Dan took it, grateful for the welcome light, and swung its beam into the shelf which went back a surprisingly long way.
‘Hey, there’s a wooden chest,’ shouted Dan. ‘I’m about to try and open it. But don’t get your hopes up!’
A couple of agonisingly long minutes passed as the others waited impatiently below. They fell silent, save for the thump, thump, thump of their hearts, aching to know what was inside.
There before 20-year-old Daniel Delaurier was a carved oak chest reinforced with a studded metal trim. With the torch in one hand he gingerly flicked back its iron catches and attempted to lift the domed lid.
It wouldn’t budge. It was locked, of course. Dan felt for the Swiss Army knife he kept in his back pocket. He inserted a small blade behind the ornate escutcheon plate. Weakened by the passage of time, it prised away quite easily. He jabbed the knife tip into the locking mechanism and, with a combination of wiggling, brute force and good luck, managed to push back the bolt. The lid lifted easily. At first, Dan could hardly bear to look inside. Quite possibly, there would be nothing to see. He braced himself for further disappointment.
The sight before him, lit by his torch, made him dizzy.
Gold coins! Silver coins! Gold ingots! Countless hundreds of them. The dormant beauty of mankind’s most precious and prized metals awoke after more than two centuries in darkness. The ingots smouldered a subtle yellow but the coins yelled cheerfully at the light, as sweetly bright as the day they were minted.
‘My God,’ exclaimed Dan. ‘This is simply amazing!’
‘What is it Dan, what have you found,’ shouted the others.
Dan put his hands in the chest and scooped out as much as he could hold.
A few seconds later, the silhouette of his head and shoulders could be seen in the dim light.
‘John,’ cried Dan, ‘shine your torch in my direction.’
John aimed the beam at Dan who crouched on the edge of the shelf, his palms overflowing with the priceless metal.
John flashed the torch at Louise and Emma to gauge their reaction. They both stood dumbstruck, eyes wide, mouths agape, clutching each other in astonishment.
‘There is a fortune here,’ Dan called down. ‘An absolute fortune. Heaps and heaps of gold and silver coins and ingots. To think this has lain undiscovered for 230 years!’
Dan reverently returned what he had taken to the chest. He gazed in wonder at it all. He noticed that some of the silver coinage had been cut into triangular segments, like slices of pizza. It puzzled him – why chop up a coin, wouldn’t that destroy its value? Perhaps not, being silver.
On the heads of several was the bust of an impressive, Roman emperor-like figure, similar in style to the English George I. He picked out a silver coin. The Latin inscription read ‘Carolus III Dei G 1777’. That must mean King Carlos III and – like on British coins – dei gratia, by the grace of God. It must have been minted in 1777 during Carlos III’s reign.
Dan flipped it over and on its tail was what looked like an old version of the Spanish coat of arms beneath a crown, with an R to its left and the number eight to the right. R8? Was that the value of the coin? If it was Spanish, didn’t they use the word Royals or Reales in those days as a currency?
He stared again at the cut-up pieces of silver. Pieces of a coin worth eight Royals – of course, a coin that could be cut into eight – Pieces of Eight! He trembled as the realisation struck him. The coins so beloved of pirates and smugglers long ago; the coins immortalised by Long John Silver’s parrot in Robert Louise Stevenson’s Treasure Island – the coins right there in front of him!
For a moment, Dan almost expected to hear a parrot squawk, then to wake from a remarkable dream. But there was no parrot, and this was no dream. He picked out a gold coin, its near perfect lustre dazzling under torchlight. It too was from the reign of Carlos III – minted in 1775. Would this be what they used to call a doubloon?
Dan resisted the temptation to examine the hoard any further. Now was not the right time. He passed the torch back to John who helped him get down. The others mobbed him like a footballer who had just scored a goal, only there was enough gold and silver there to make them richer than many footballers.
‘Let us spare a thought for the poor sailors who drowned on board that ship and for their captain Felipe who salvaged this treasure and stowed it away here so carefully, and who never got to see it again,’ said Dan, determined not to get carried away.
They paused for a moment or two to reflect on that, before Emma said, quietly, ‘what happens now?’
‘My suggestion would be that we go back to the lighthouse and get ourselves properly equipped with powerful torches and spare batteries and crates for getting the treasure out of here,’ said Dan.
The others agreed. That old chest was fragile and would crumble under its own weight if they attempted to move it. And they needed proper lighting. Almost numb with delight at their discovery, they retraced their steps along the tunnel and climbed the iron rungs into the outbuilding. John and Dan pushed the shaft cover down but left the removed flagstone where it was, since they would return soon enough.
As they stepped out of the door of the outbuilding and walked over the rocky path to the lighthouse, they looked about them, their eyes blinking in the bright natural light. Astonishingly, the storm had blown itself out. The wind had vanished. Barely a ripple disturbed the surface of the sea, nor more than a hint of foam. The water washed over the rocks around the island with a gentle caress. Fluffy clouds hung in a pale blue sky and the sun, now heading west, shone benevolently.
‘How unbelievable that the weather could have cleared up so suddenly,’ said Emma.
/> ‘I told you, that’s what it does round here,’ said Louise. ‘It’s often different from the weather forecast as well. Storms spring up from nowhere then suddenly vanish.’
‘Do you know what I fancy?’ added Louise. ‘Now that the weather has cleared up, why don’t we get the boat out and motor over to the shore and buy some powerful torches and loads more batteries, and anything else we need, then how about we go out for a celebration at the pub in Porthlevnack? There’s a wonderful old inn where smugglers and wreckers used to gather – and as we’ve just discovered treasure from a shipwreck, I think it would be the perfect place to celebrate.
‘There’s no need to go back down the tunnel this evening, is there?’
‘No,’ said John, looking at the sun in the western sky. ‘In fact, if we are going ashore to get some better torches, which is a good idea, I would sooner we did leave it until tomorrow. I don’t fancy heading below ground with the light fading – even though it will be dark down there anyway.’
The others agreed. It was somehow important to feel that it was bright daylight outside before revisiting an old, musty undersea tunnel.
‘The only thing is, I’m not sure if I can afford to go out for a restaurant meal or anything,’ said Emma, nervously.
‘Emma, don’t be daft – we can all afford it now, can’t we Dan? Surely that treasure belongs to us as the finders?’ said Louise.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘at least half of it should. We can certainly afford the finest food and drink the village has to offer – as a deserved celebration, I would say. We’ll have to put it on the Visa card for now of course!’
‘What about lights on the boat if it’s dark when we come back?’ enquired Emma.
‘We’ll use the torches we’re about to buy,’ pointed out Louise. ‘They don’t have to be red and green for port and starboard, not on a little boat like this and we’re not going far.’
‘So to put it another way, Emma, stop worrying!’ said Dan. ‘You’ll not only be able to afford a very good meal tonight, but you’ll be able to finish the rest of your course without ever having to worry about money again. This will transform your life.’
Dan looked at Emma with the tenderness which comes from genuine affection, and to his delight it was reciprocated. Emma flung her arms round him and hugged him tight.
‘It’s thanks to you, you’re wonderful Dan. Thank you so much.’
‘Hey give Louise some credit too,’ said John, grinning, ‘it’s thanks to her that we’re here in the first place.’
‘That’s quite true,’ conceded Emma. ‘But none of us would have had a clue about that treasure without Dan’s hard work.’
‘Quite so,’ said Louise, ‘I totally agree with you. Dan’s an absolute hero. Thanks to him we’re rich, rich, yippee!’ she shouted in delight, jumping from rock to rock.
‘Louise, calm down, sounds carry easily over water,’ cautioned John.
Dan looked across the now tranquil sea. ‘It’s wonderful, incredible news, but please let us not forget that this bay is the graveyard of those sailors who drowned – to whom we owe our good fortune.’
His soft, grey eyes were fixed on the watery depths and he did not notice the way Emma winced at Louise’s ebullient rejoicing, nor the glance of admiration and appreciation she reserved for him.
Chapter VIII
The four of them went to their bedrooms in the lighthouse to get changed – they had got dusty and mucky that day, clambering into cellars, outbuildings, tunnels, caves and crevices. Not a bad achievement considering the weather had been too bad to allow them off their tiny island.
As the girls applied make-up and dug out reasonably smart clothing to wear, in the bedroom the other side of the staircase, John and Dan were sprawled out on their mattresses.
‘Oh mate, what a day, what a blooming day. If I had read an account of what we have done in one of your many books I wouldn’t have believed it,’ declared John with a shake of his head. ‘You are one amazing swot to be able to translate that stuff in the first place. I would have fallen at the first hurdle.’
‘Not really,’ replied Dan, modestly. ‘If it had been in French, any of us could have done it. You ought to pick up some Spanish, you know, you’re a natural at French, you wouldn’t find it much of a leap. It was lucky I had my Spanish dictionary with me, otherwise I would have struggled.’
‘It goes to show,’ laughed John, ‘you should always make sure you take your Spanish-English dictionary on holiday, whether it’s to Tenerife or Magaluf or even, a lighthouse off the coast of Cornwall.’
Dan smiled. John was good at silly dialogues like this. He was much better at the banter than himself and although he couldn’t usually respond in kind, he did find it funny. ‘I don’t want to be ungrateful on a day like today,’ replied Dan, ‘but do you know what would make my cup runneth over, only it’s never going to happen?’
‘Let me guess,’ said John. ‘If you could get it together with Emma. That is somewhat ungrateful you know, on a day when we’ve had such marvellous good luck. I think that would be enough for most people. Anyway, I’m kind of keen on Louise but she just sees me as someone to flirt with on holiday. It’s very platonic. I think it’s partly ’cos I always come across as superficial and people don’t realise I do have a deeper side as well.’
‘Let Louise see that side to you,’ replied Dan, looking thoughtfully at John. ‘If all people see of you is your cheeky chappy, jokey persona, they won’t get to know the full you.’
‘Very true. On the other hand, compared to you I am a total clown! And hey, who could feel miserable about their love life within minutes of finding a stash of buried treasure. It’s like a big gold and silver lining to our failure with women, don’t you think?’
Dan smiled again as he put a brush through his thick hair. John would have shrugged and looked on the bright side if they’d come back with nothing more than an old farthing. Despite being quite different people, they were good friends whose personalities complemented each other. Dan was a calming, sensible influence on John while the latter’s chat and good cheer cut through Dan’s intensity and introspection.
‘Right,’ said John. ‘Let’s give the girls a call and get moving. I want to sink some ice cold continental beer tonight – out of a tankard while I count my pieces of gold and silver like the smugglers and wreckers of old. Ah ha!’
Dan dryly pointed out that such characters would more likely have drunk a warm ration of English ale or porter than cold imported lager.
The sea retained a pond-like calm when the students set out in Louise’s motorboat bound for the shore. It was a lovely summer’s evening, with the jagged rays of the sinking sun flickering across the water.
‘Look at that sun,’ said Emma, ‘like a great golden coin disappearing from sight.’
For a second it made her shiver. ‘Do you suppose our treasure is safe where we left it?’
The others chuckled. ‘It’s been lying there undisturbed since 1780,’ pointed out Dan, ‘it couldn’t be in a safer place.’
Louise moored the boat alongside the jetty in the harbour and they clambered out, mindful of the need to go shopping before anything else.
‘There’s a hardware store along the lane off the high street,’ said Louise. ‘We’ll get good torches and batteries there. Let’s make sure we don’t talk about what we want them for, ok? I know the shopkeeper in there and he’s a nice chap but loves to know everyone’s business.’
‘Now what you be wanting these powerful torches for missy, I can’t help wondering?’ said Will the shopkeeper as they trooped to his till with one apiece and plenty of batteries. ‘Going potholing or exploring them old smugglers’ caves, I’ll be bound.’
‘If we told you that, Will, we’d have to shoot you,’ replied Louise with a grin. ‘Hey, talking of which, I don’t suppose you know of any tunnels from the shore heading under the sea bed into the bay?’
The others glanced at Louise, surprised at her indiscre
tion. What about her own warning not to blurt out their business to this chap?
The shopkeeper returned her smile, but advised, ‘you won’t find anything I’m afraid, these tunnels have been gone over with a fine toothcomb long ago! Most if not all have been closed. There’s one I know of running under the sea but that was shut off long ago. No folk can go down it now.’
They picked up some more bread and milk while they were out and returned to the boat, bobbing by the jetty, and pushed everything carefully into the luggage hold.
‘Right all,’ said Louise, glancing at her watch. ‘It’s 5.30pm, why don’t we have a stroll around then find somewhere nice for a few drinks and a meal? Unless you’ve got any better ideas, I thought it would be fun to go to the old smugglers’ inn up the hill here, which was a favourite haunt of smugglers and wreckers in the old days. It’s still a pub to this day and when you go inside you feel yourself going back in time.’
‘Do they do ice-cold continental lager?’ asked John.
‘Yes and plenty more besides, and they serve some pretty good food for a pub,’ said Louise. ‘It’s not cordon bleu or anything, but decent pub grub, like fish and chips, pies, casseroles, scampi, that sort of thing.’
That sounded perfect and after a relaxing walk around Porthlevnack, they headed towards the aptly-named Smugglers Tavern. It was a good place to finish off such an interesting and exciting day, especially having been cut off by the storm.
As they walked through the heavy door into the lounge, John, Dan and Emma looked around approvingly. This was how a pub should be: dark beams, an oak-panelled bar, brass fittings and frosted glass panes. Watercolour paintings of nearby coves and beaches hung on whitewashed walls radiating a mystical, mysterious quality in the subdued light.
Dan and Emma in particular loved pubs like this – both glanced in delight at the eccentric nooks set into the walls; the quaint shelves lined with antique books; the lanterns and rough-hewn lead pewter tankards hanging off hooks. Emma could easily imagine a smuggler sitting here, supping ale under a flickering candle.
Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) Page 6
