Sunken Treasure Lost Worlds

by Hep Aldridge

  Our gathering the next evening on the boat was a spirited one. The beer fridge and the grog locker in the wheelhouse were hit immediately. Deck chairs and a folding table were set up under the tarp hung over the rear deck. As we settled in to the sound of waves lapping on the sides of the boat, ice crackling in glasses, and beers being opened, the air was electric. We were all trying to be cool about everything but, following the first sip of beverage, we could contain ourselves no longer, and questions came out in a flood tide. Doc, amused by it, only laughed and calmed us all down, saying we would get to the questions soon enough, but first, there were a few very pressing points he wanted us to discuss.

  “One, why did the ship leave behind half its armament, two, what was this unrecorded mission for the king all about? And three, foremost in our minds, where did she sink?”

  Joe spoke up first, "Well, leaving that many cannons behind would have made her lighter and therefore faster. She could probably out-run most privateers under normal conditions.”

  "Good point,” I agreed.

  Tony asked, “How much did a cannon weigh?”

  We thought for a bit, and Doc said, "Probably around 2,000 to 3,000 pounds. Include cannon balls and powder, and you could add about another 500 to 700 pounds.” I could see the wheels turning in Tony’s head.

  “And the top speed for a galleon?”

  Again, Doc answered, “About six to eight knots or between seven to a little over nine miles per hour.”

  Tony nodded as his mental calculator shifted into high gear. “That would mean if my calculations are correct, that a lightly loaded galleon could potentially travel about 11 or possibly 12+ miles per hour and make the crossing from Seville to Havana in less than the normal six months.”

  “Possibly,” Doc agreed.

  Dimitri spoke up then and asked, “But what would be the reason for wanting to make a faster crossing?"

  "Another good point,” I interjected as I looked at the faces around the table.

  It was Joe’s turn to jump in and he said, “What if it wasn’t to make a faster crossing but to carry more cargo on the return trip?"

  Tony added, “It would give them somewhere around an extra 110.25-ton cargo capacity and not be overloaded”.

  It was Doc’s turn to chime in, “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  Lawrence, who had been quiet through most of the discussion, looked over the rim of his rum and tonic and said to Doc, “That report on the cargo from the Havana records stated that they received stuff from South America, but nothing specific was listed and a load from the Mexico mint. We also know most of the silver would Come from South America, most likely Potosi in Bolivia, but there was no mention of silver.”

  “True,” Doc agreed. “There would be no reason that I can think of to hide the fact that silver was part of the cargo when they make a note of the cargo from the Mexican mint, which would obviously be gold.”

  I jumped in then, “So, your reasoning trail leads us to what? We have a mystery cargo from South America which may or may not contain silver and a load coming from the Mexican mint of gold.”

  “Holy crap,” Tony said, “That means there could be an extra 110 tons of gold added to the ship’s normal cargo of 600 to 2,000 tons of cargo, depending on her actual construction. On today’s market, that means, let’s see…" After mentally calculating for a minute or two, he said, "an additional five billion 292 million dollars’ worth of gold if my figures are correct! That’s in addition to their normal tonnage.” Tony’s figures are always correct, I thought with a huge grin on my face. Now, our heads were really spinning. Could it be possible that that much treasure could be out there somewhere? We were talking tens of billions of dollars!

  Doc’s next Comment brought us back to reality. He said, “Now, all we have to do is figure out where the Conception sank…”

  Tony had gotten up and hit the beer fridge, bringing back a round for the table. As he sat down, he had a thoughtful expression on his face, and after a few minutes said, “You know, Doc, if you could provide me with the information you have and I could identify the variables involved, I could build a Computer model of the Conception’s probable course.”

  Nils, who had been quiet for most of the evening said, “Then from that, we might determine where she could have gone down. We know she didn’t break up on a reef from the sailor’s account, so there’s a chance she may still be mostly intact on the bottom!"

  Doc replied, "I’ll send you all the details I have by email tomorrow."

  “It will take me a few days to a week or so to get it together,” Tony replied. “No problem,” I said. “Take your time; just be as accurate as possible."

  Tony looked at me with an exasperated expression, “Really, Colt?" Sheepishly, I realized I had stepped on my you know what! Tony’s work was always accurate!

  “Sorry,” I said. “Heat of the moment…”

  He laughed, “No worries, Big Guy.”

  As our meeting drew to a close, we set the tentative date and location of our next gathering. We said our goodbyes, and I told Tony that I would stow the chairs and table and make sure the boat was secure before leaving. He said thanks and headed inside to his family. Dimitri stayed to help as I folded chairs and put them below. In a few minutes, only two chairs and the table were left. Dimitri headed into the wheelhouse and shut down the deck lights, leaving the only illumination the battery-operated naked bulb over the helm. It cast its faint yellowish light through the window, adding an ethereal glow to the deck. I plopped down in one chair as I heard the fridge open. A minute later, Dimitri came out with a frosty bottle of Russian potato vodka in one hand and two frosty shot glasses in the other. I knew this was his private stash, kept in the freezer of the beer fridge. He sat down, put the glasses on the table, and poured two shots of the frosty liquid. I was staring intently eastward across the Banana River to the lights of Cape Canaveral.

  He handed me a glass, "Prost.”

  “Prost,” I replied.

  After a short pause he said, “You seem troubled, my friend; what’s the matter?"

  I thought for a moment and then replied, “I’m not sure, just revisiting tonight and the last few days and weeks.” I let my voice trail off.

  “And so?” he asked.

  “And so, Dimitri, I’m not sure what’s going to happen."

  “What do you mean?"

  I said, “I guess that whole voice of reason thing got me to reconsider the reality of all this. What if all this is for nothing? What if we don’t find a thing and are just wasting our time and money?"

  He poured our glasses full and followed my stare east before speaking again. “So, you are having your doubts about your hair-brained idea? No offense, Colt.”

  “None taken,” I replied, “but, yeah, I guess that’s it. Think of all the people who search their entire lives for lost or sunken treasure and find nothing, losing their life savings, family members, and friends, for what… nothing!” I tossed down the clear liquid in one swallow, its heat sliding down my throat, sending a wave of warmth through my body.

  As Dimitri refilled our glasses and set the bottle on the table, he turned to face me. “Colt, how long have we known each other?"

  I said, "Close to 20 years, I guess."

  "And how long have you known the others?"

  I thought for a minute and said, "From around 10 or 12 years to over 40."

  “And,” he said, “we have all been going our own separate ways, making lives for ourselves, becoming successful in our own right, and then you called us together. You presented your hair-brained idea, no offense.”

  I could only laugh, “None taken, Dimitri.”

  "And what happened? Every one of us agreed immediately to join you! No matter what else we had going on in our lives, without so much as a minute’s hesitation, we agreed to join you in your…”

  "I know, Dimitri," I said.

  “Okay, see what I’m saying?"

  I paused. I wa
sn’t sure I did and said so.

  He shook his head and said, “Colt, for a really smart guy, sometimes you’re dumb as a stump.”

  “Hey,” I said, “Offense taken.”

  "No, what I mean is you didn’t have to twist our arms or convince us to join you; we did it willingly and immediately. Doesn’t that tell you something? You pulled this unbelievably diverse group of individuals together with one phone call, and next thing you know, we have all agreed to be part of this “thing” you have created! Did you ever think it may not be about the treasure? We’re not a bunch of youngsters going out for a joyride with a buddy. We’ve all been around the block, some of us more times than we would like to count. None of us really need the money; I mean it would be good and all, but our lives could have gone on comfortably without your call. Colt, I’m speaking as your friend. I feel we are all here, not because of the promises of riches at the end of the rainbow, but because of what you have created, a new raison d’être for us! You’re right; we may not find a thing, but we will search for it together, sharing whatever trials and tribulations that may Come along. It won’t be easy; in fact, it will probably be hard as hell, but that doesn’t matter."

  “Dimitri, you’re getting all philosophical on me, man."

  "No, listen to me, Colt; this is important. The path you have set us on is a path we have agreed to travel together, and I think from it we will all go away with riches beyond measure, whether or not we find treasure! Remember, it’s not the destination, but rather the journey that will fulfill and define us."

  Sweet Jesus, I thought, as Dimitri got up, washed the glasses, and replaced them and the bottle in the freezer. As he crossed the deck, he clasped my shoulder and looked at me, “Get some rest, my friend, you look like shit!” He stepped off the boat and disappeared into the darkness.

  I shouted after him “Hey, for a Socialist Rooskie Cossack… You’re not such a bad guy.”

  From out of the dark, I heard, “Coming from an American Capitalist Pig like you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” followed by a hearty chuckle.

  Maybe Dimitri was right; maybe we had all reached a time in our lives where we needed something else. Not something material but something more important than silver or gold. Maybe it was more personal for each of us than I could have imagined. Some of us had families or significant others to consider when making this decision, but in my gut, I knew this wasn’t some quixotic adventure. It was much more than that. Maybe we would each find our own treasure, not necessarily at the end, but along the way. I stowed my chair and turned out the light in the wheelhouse. As I came out, I looked to the east once again, the lights of Cape Canaveral reflecting off the Banana River and beyond that, the blue-green waters of the Atlantic… “Dimitri,” I thought, “If you are right, then let the journey begin.”

  Chapter Four

  My phone rang five days later at about 10 a.m. Doc Greene called and said Tony had contacted him and had something for us to see. I let the rest of the crew know, and later that evening, we met at the boat. Tony invited us into the house. They had put his two young daughters to bed and his lovely wife, Susan, with one of those motherly smiles, asked us to keep it down since she didn’t want anyone to awaken them. She knew us all too well and knew how rowdy we could get. With a straight face, I held up my hand and said, “Scout’s honor, we will be on our best behavior.” She only laughed and shook her head.

  As she turned away, she admonished me with, “Colten, it will be your ass if you’re not." With that, we retired to Tony’s office/work room. Tony pressed a button on the wall and what looked like a 70” diagonal piece of acrylic lowered out of its nest in the ceiling. It turned out to be an HD computer/video touch screen.

  We all grabbed seats; as he talked, he touched the screen and a chart of the Florida coastline from Stuart/Ft. Pierce to Amelia Island came up. On it were several lines, arrows and notations, and the locations of all the 1715 ships that had been found so far. He walked us through the logic behind his approach to the problem. Taking the information that Doc sent him and the research he had done on the tides, wind speed, and currents for July 30, 1715, he built his model. Using the speed estimates for the ship he and Doc had come up with and taking into account the hurricane-force winds and sea state, he created an algorithm that would manipulate all the variables, crunched the numbers, and plotted a projected course for our mystery ship.

  As he spoke, he touched the huge screen again, and a line appeared from the Ft. Pierce area north following the coast but veering to the east on its northward plot. As we studied the image before us, he explained he had used the information from the commandant’s report to get started. It had said the mystery ship passed the last ship in the Plate fleet before dark on the 30th of July and was moving at an unusually high rate of speed for a galleon. Also, it stated that it passed on the seaward side, looking to be moving further out to sea as it was heading north. All the ships of the fleet had orders to sail in sight of land, but the only ship to survive the hurricane, the Griffin, disobeyed orders and went further out into deeper water. It seemed safe to assume the Conception had a seasoned captain, and he was smart enough to know one hell of a storm was coming.Knowing this, he would have realized that his best chance for survival was also in deeper water. Taking a course heading further out to sea before the hurricane hit, he probably tried running in front of the storm. The captain had every inch of sail he could use, deployed. He would have been in the big rollers but from what little description we had of this ship, it was an unusual configuration both hull-wise and sail-wise for a galleon. The consensus of the group was that they built this ship for speed and survivability.

  Now, the real mystery story began. Tony continued, “As close as we can figure, he passed the last ship somewhere just north of Ft. Pierce, as the sun was going down. This is where it gets a little speculative. Sunset on that date was about eight something. He was about 90 miles from the tip of Cape Canaveral, and the full force of the hurricane hit the fleet around two am. That would have given him six maybe seven hours of hard sailing before the main storm hit. If he could run with the wind, in the 10 to 13 mph range, in our estimation, he could have covered 90 miles in about seven hours, which would put him somewhere in this circle, before he got hit with the full force of the storm.” The large circle was east of the Cape with its center about six miles offshore. We all sat there in silence as we digested this huge chunk of information.

  I was the first to speak, “There’s a lot of guess work in there, Tony.”

  Tony said, “I agree, but it’s guesswork based on the facts we have at hand. There are a hell of a lot of variables in the model that are unverifiable. If anyone has a better idea, I’m all ears. Truth be told, this is just a SWAG done with a computer. I’ve played with changing the wind and speed variables and the program still comes out with center points that are only three miles from this center.

  “Actually, Colt,” Joe said, “I think Tony has given us a good idea of where to look. Now, all we need to do is work on refining the model and maybe, just maybe we can come up with a starting point for a search.

  Nils chimed in, “He’s right, Colt; this is based on the facts we have so until we get more or different information, I think we should take a serious look at what Tony is suggesting.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying no to any of it; I’m just saying there are quite a few variables we can’t narrow down and confirm.”

  Dimitri spoke up, laughing, “That’s why they call it treasure hunting, Colt, NOT treasure finding!”

  As the laughter died down, “Very funny Dimitri!” Nils said. “Let’s look at that circled area a little closer.” Tony did some screen touching again, and we zoomed into the circle now displaying all the attributes of a full nautical chart. The depth in the area ran from 30 to 60 ft., not impossible working depths, but no walk in the park either. Getting down to the two-atmosphere range with scuba would require mixed gas diving if we wanted to spend any significant time on the
bottom. Dimitri, Joe, Doc, and Tony were all Nitrox certified, which was a big plus.

  We pulled out Doc’s notes and looked at the area before us based on the sailor’s account. The water was deep enough to swallow a galleon whole. A mile to the east of the center point, there was a small shoal that rose to less than ten feet below the surface. After that, there was no shallow water till you hit the southeast shoal and the water got shallower, 20 feet, the closer you got to shore four and a half miles away. I had been thinking if the sailor said they hit shallow water and then deep water again, the small shoal was the only place within miles that might fit the location in his story. It was within Tony’s circle and worth a look for the longboat.

  In storm surf, waves would top at least 15 to 20 feet and the troughs of them could easily uncover a shoal that was only eight to ten feet under the surface to start with and make a nasty place for a longboat to land. I told the guys what I was thinking, and they agreed with me. If, and it was a big if, the longboat hit that shoal, where would that put the galleon? It was clear finding the answer to that question would require an on-site search. That meant dragging the mag across the area in a linear grid search pattern or, “mowing the lawn,” as it was called in treasure-hunter speak.

  I thought out loud, “I wonder if we could see anything from the air?” That started a lively discussion with feelings on both sides, maybe yes, maybe no.

  Lawrence spoke up, “Could we afford to hire a plane and pilot to take us up to do the searching?” Did we want anyone to know what we were up to? From the size of the area, the consensus was no, we couldn’t. Besides, a plane may not give you enough time to study an area or anomaly if you spotted one.

  Not to be dissuaded, I said, “I may know someone who would help us out.”

  Nils said, “If you can get it for free, then, by all means, let’s do it.”

  I replied, “It might mean adding another person to our group.” When quizzed about the person, I said, “Oh, don’t worry, guys; he’ll fit right in!”