The Wreck

Vivian Thorn pulled her hand back from her work and checked her pressure gauge. It read eight hundred pounds and she nodded to herself. She returned to gently brushing sediment away from the delicate vase, half buried in the ocean floor. Underwater archeology was her passion, but she was so single minded that once she began, she would often forget to check the readouts. On many occasions she had been forced to forego her safety stop because she was almost out of gas.

She cursed herself when it happened, because it meant she had to spend extra time on the surface and her research group was running out of time and grant money. Viv hated diving with analogue gauges, but she had hocked her dive computer and most of her back up gear for extra dollars. Even her Buoyancy Control Device, the jacket with air cells that allowed her to maintain stability under water, was borrowed. She had risked almost everything she had on this expedition.

The vase, while beautiful, was not part of the wreck she sought. It was, however, pretty valuable and if it was in pristine condition, might fetch enough money to keep her operation going one more week. The investors had already pulled out, cutting their losses and forcing her to use her own limited means. They had decided the Gulphin was just another treasure legend.

In some ways, she was relieved. Investors were interested in profit, not history and would pressure her to bring up the reputed treasure trove of silver and gold. Without backers, she would be free to excavate it thoroughly. The ship had special meaning to her and the history was far more important than the treasure. If she could just find the damned thing!

Viv walked out of the small shop, turned sharply to her left, and blended in with the natives. At least, she blended in as best she could. She wore a bikini top that showed off much of her sun bronzed skin and her luscious breasts. Her long blonde hair was up, held in a pony-tail with a red scrunchy that matched her suit top. Khaki short shorts, flip- flops, a haversack and dark ray-bans completed her outfit.

She didn't breathe a sigh of relief until she arrived back at the tourist quarter and was less noticeable among the hordes of cruise ship passengers and tourists. She had two thousand dollars in her haversack, only about a quarter of the vase's worth, but that was the way it worked with fences. The government was really cracking down on treasure hunters and she was already under threat of being expelled. She could ill afford to get caught, so her bargaining position was very weak and Hasin knew it.

The money would give her and her team another week, but she was no longer confident. If she failed again, it would take another year or more to round up backers and her record would begin to play against her. This was her third expedition and, thus far, she hadn't turned up a single artifact that could be definitively linked to the Gulphin.

She stopped in at Pescadore's and joined her crew for dinner. They were a good bunch and she felt rather empty inside when she realized she would probably be sending them home with nothing to show for their months of patient effort.

"How'd it go, boss?" "Big" Burt Thompson asked as soon as she had ordered her drink and the waitress was out of earshot.

"Two K."

"All right! I need five hundred to gas up the Keyliner.

Viv dutifully handed the big man five bills, which he stuffed into the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. Burt owned her dive ship and had made the trip all the way down from his home port in the Keys. He was a powerful man, an excellent captain and a good friend. She had known him since her father and mother had allowed her to tag along on expeditions with them back in her teens. The big man was protective of her, in a big brother sort of way, and his presence had saved her from trouble several times.

"How bout you, Andy?" she asked the tall, thin redhead on her left.

"Depends. If we're going further out, I think we'll need to be diving Nitrox. If we're staying in, we can get by on air."

She peeled off five more bills and handed them to him.

"Go half and half, fill em all. This may be our last shot, so let's set up like it's a fresh start."

He nodded and pocketed the money. Andy Bremmer was a graduate student from Texas A & M. He was working on his doctorate in marine archeology. Viv knew how important this was to him, if they found something noteworthy he could do his thesis on it, if not, he would have to return to the U.S. and see about finding a teaching spot until he could latch on to another expedition.

"Candy?"

The chubby blonde turned from her conversation with her boyfriend Dave and shrugged.

"We're down to spam and eggs, but no eggs," she said with a laugh.

Another three hundred dollars disappeared from Viv's quickly diminishing stack of bills.

They ate a very subdued meal, with only Candy seeming to be above the gloom. She was just the cook and was only a junior at A&M. The failures hadn't diminished her enthusiasm as she considered the whole thing an adventure and a great way to scam a free islands vacation.

Dave was also a grad student and, like Andy, he faced the daunting prospect of returning empty handed, but unlike his friend, he had a TA position approved for the fall semester. When they finished eating, Viv ordered a round of drinks, proposed a toast, and paid for it all. She then wished everyone a good evening and left. Her intention had been to get back to the ship and go over the photo copied documents she had, hoping to find some clue she and countless others had missed.

"Hold it right there," a thickly accented voice called.

Viv froze, for a moment she thought she would faint, but the familiar face of constable Mabek smiled up at her.

"Naughty, naughty," the short man intoned.

"What?"

"I was over to the quarter. Hasin has a beautiful new vase. I even spoke to the customer who bought it, she was most generous."

"Good. Then you won't have to gouge me." Viv said.

"Now, now. Let's be civil. You know I'm a poor man, with many mouths to feed back home, while you are a rich American. I'm pleased to look the other way, but there has to be something interesting to look at."

Viv sighed disgustedly and pulled out the remaining bills. She peeled off two bills and handed him the rest. He counted it slowly and smiled that big fake smile.

"Hasin said it was a very rare vase."

Viv fought back her anger and her frustration. Being screwed by this odious little official had almost reached the point of being intolerable.

"He gave me two thousand. Five's in the fuel tanks, five more's in the cylinders and three is in groceries. You're getting over a quarter of what I got, what's your beef?"

"Hmmm, well, I suppose I should file a report on the vase. I'll name no names of course, but I really can't afford not to for five hundred. You understand. Of course, if you would prefer, I am sure we could come to some other arrangement," he said as he gave her a toothy grin and looked to the bulge in his trousers.

"Fuck it," Viv said, tossing the last two bills to him and turning away.

By the time she reached the boat she was questioning her decision. She was getting screwed by the little man either way, at least if she gave up the pussy she would still have the two hundred. Disgusted with herself for even considering it, she cracked the bottle of Quervo gold and began poring over the photocopies.

In November of 1670, the privateer Gulphin, sailed out of Port Royal, bound for Trinidad. She was a converted merchantman, carrying a crew of over one hundred and sixteen guns. Sailing conditions were favorable and she cruised down the Leeward Isles, taking a Spanish prize and stopping on 17th January for re-provisioning in Antigua, at a pirate refuge.

After that, much of what followed was conjecture on Viv's part. Somewhere between Antigua and Trinidad, she must have taken a prize, or several prizes. The fighting was either very bloody, or she stopped off somewhere else, or some calamity stuck, Viv wasn't sure which. Through some kind of under the table deal, she was allowed to land at Trinidad, but curiously the Harbor Master noted her crew as being only eighteen men.

She repaired and refitted, and now flying a Spanish flag, with letters of introduction from the Governor of Cartagena, she took on several ecclesiastical passengers. It was also rumored, she took on a fortune in gold, gems, and religious icons, bound for that city's cathedral.

Although no storms were reported on her likely route, the Gulphin never arrived. That would have been the end of the story, another lost treasure tale, if not for the curious report of an English privateer.

He claimed, in a letter to his cousin in Port Royal, to have seen the Gulphin off an unnamed island near Trinidad, three months after she had sailed. He reported a storm, later that same day, which blew up with gale force winds and nearly capsized his ship.

Viv sighed. She had thoroughly mapped and explored the four small islands off the north- western tip of the island, but so far she had struck out. Drunk, weary, and losing heart, she curled up on her bunk and was sound asleep long before the others got back.

Viv knocked back her fourth shot of Quervo and exhaled slowly. She was going to be really messed up soon if she didn't slow down, but at this point she really didn't care. She had seen the kids off at the airport the day before and helped Burt get the Keyliner ready for the long cruise home. Her last week had been as unproductive as so many others and frankly, she was out of ideas.

The tall blonde barely noticed anything going on around her in the place. She was quite startled when a tall black woman slid into her booth across from her. "I hear you are interested in the Gulphin," the girl said by way of introduction.

She was tall and amazingly fit, with the deepest, blackest skin Viv had ever seen. She also had the most amazing eyes, brown, but flecked with green, giving them an almost hypnotic luminescence in the bar's weak light.

"Maybe," Viv said cautiously.

The girl was beautiful, actually, stunning was a better word. Her body was one of those that most women would instantly resent. Long toned legs, wide hips, tear drop ass, trim waist, small pert breasts and a face that looked like it was carved out of obsidian by a Michaelangelo. Viv had little money left, and most people who had "hot tips" were scoundrels of the worst sort. Beauty was no indication of integrity, but with this woman she felt strangely sure she wasn't being deceived.

"Well, you're cautious, that's good. I don't want to deal with an amateur."

"I'm no amateur, and caution pays down here."

"Quite," the woman said, flashing a million dollar smile.

"So?" Viv asked.

The girl reached into the bag she carried and produced a very old and dog eared diary. Without comment she passed it to Viv. She waited patiently as the blonde pored over it.

"Where did you get this?"

"It was among my father's effects. All his brother left when he died. I barely knew my uncle; he was something of a black sheep. He would show up periodically, drop hints of how close he was to making his fortune, a rather strange man. My mother thought he was just a con artist and fell back on his brother when he needed a hand out. My father loved him, but they were estranged by my uncle's obsession. As you can see, he put most of his life into finding that ship and I believe he succeeded, although he didn't realize it. My father certainly never thought that small reminder of his brother was the key to a fortune."

"Are you saying the location of the Gulphin is in here?" Viv asked dubiously.

"Not as such. But the location can be inferred, from information in there. You are, I assume, familiar with the manifest?"

"Yes, I've seen it, although the majority of it was damaged by fire in 1723 and no mention of gold and silver was made even before that."

"You are no doubt aware then, that along with the rumored gold and silver, she carried passengers and some clerics?"

"Yes."

The tall girl looked furtively about and then removed a small object, wrapped in white cloth and passed it to Viv. The blonde carefully opened it and just stared. Resting inside was a cross of gold, three inches tall and two across. Normally, such an item wouldn't impress her, but the raw emeralds set into it and the obvious antiquity of the piece were evident.

"I'm no diver. I picked that up off the bottom in about three meters of water. The fall off is severe, I would estimate the wreck it came from lies in some thirty meters. With the naked eye I could see timbers and what appeared to be a bronze cannon."

"Why haven't you reported it?"

"Ah, now we get to my problem and perhaps yours. One reason no one has found the ship is because it doesn't lie near the island, in fact, it lies closer to the mainland of Venezuela than it does to Trinidad."

"That would indicate it isn't the Gulphin," Viv said, the sudden hope she felt fading again.

"It would, were it not for clues in my uncle's diary."

"What clues?"

"Let me tell you a little story. There once was a ship, piloted by the blackest-hearted rogue you could imagine. Someone so devoid of humanity he makes Long John Silver look positively saintly. On a voyage, he and his crew took a Spanish war galleon. The fight was fierce and he lost many men, but eventually, he prevailed, killing the Spanish captain with his bare hands. The treasure filled the hold of his damaged ship to overflowing and he was too far south to make for the Tortugas. So he sailed to a small bit of land he knew and there, he and his crew buried their loot."

"Can I get you something?" the waitress asked.

Viv had been so spell-bound by the woman's voice and eyes she had almost forgotten they were in a bar.

"I'll have the rum punch, and bring another of whatever she's having," the black girl replied.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. So, they buried the loot. The governor of Trinidad was an easy man to bribe, so they kept some and sailed to the port. Our captain snuck into town during the night and after some large bribes, he received false documents, ostentiously from Cartagena. He slipped out and then sailed brazenly into port the next morning. His Spanish was good, his crew small, and after some negotiation, his ship was put in and work began to repair the damage she had sustained. While waiting for his ship to be repaired, he met a cleric on a secret mission. The young man was obviously gullible and confided that he was carrying a fortune in religious icons and needed passage to Cartagena."

She paused as the waitress returned with their drinks and then continued.

"It so happened that a second galleon, the Nuestra Senora De Serville limped into port while the captain was negotiating with the cleric. She had been part of the fleet of galleons that was scattered by a sudden storm, in fact, one of the very fleet from which our captain had taken his first victim. This is all related by one of the captain's crew. This man, known only as John, jumped ship and hid in the island's interior until the Captain was long gone, so the rest is conjecture on his part and my own."

"I know of John. He was hanged in England. No one believed his story. One reason I want to find the Gulphin is to vindicate him. My father wished the same. He traced our genealogy back to John several years ago. " Viv said.

"Interesting. His story is a matter of record, although, as you say, it was never believed. According to him, he thought the captain planned to murder his crew and return to the island with a few friends to reclaim his loot, but the arrival of the nearly sinking galleon and the cleric gave him another idea. Why not offer to carry the cleric to Cartagena, and while he was at it, transport the damaged galleon's cargo of silver as well?"

The woman sipped her drink and waited for Viv to make the connections.

"Obviously the galleon couldn't make it back to Spain. It was just as obvious the governor couldn't protect the cargo in Trinidad for the months it would take to repair. I surmise our captain offered him a share of the loot and he, in turn, prevailed upon the galleon's captain to send the silver back to Cartagena. It could wait there for the arrival of the next silver train. Whatever the machinations, I believe the ship sailed loaded with silver, clerics, the Galleon's captain and a few soldiers from the galleon. Somewhere along the way, the captain and his few men must have done away with their passengers and returned to the island, where they were seen by the passing privateer who penned the Port Royal document. There, they must have been loading their cargo when the storm he mentions blew up and sank the overloaded ship."

"This is fascinating, but it doesn't explain why no one can find the ship."

"I'm coming to that. The English captain reported the island as off Trinidad, but there is no record of the storm he reports. Surely gale force winds would have made enough of an impact to make it into the church ledgers? What if the seas and winds were stronger than he thought? Perhaps carrying his ship many miles during the night? How would he know he was off Trinidad, since he obviously couldn't land there, being English?"

"He would have taken...a sighting?"

"In a storm?"

"No, of course not. He couldn't have seen sun or stars. He would have had to..." Viv tailed off.

"Now you begin to see. I believe the sighting he took to report his position wasn't taken the day he saw the Gulphin, it was taken the next morning as he wrote his letter. The nearest island to him at that point was Trinidad, but I believe when he actually saw the Gulphin, he was much farther west."

"Storms generally move from east to west," Viv observed.

"Hurricanes often venture into the Caribbean, but veer back out to sea," she replied.

"Assuming I believe this, it still doesn't explain why no one has dived this island."

"What if it isn't there?"

"I don't follow," Viv said, massaging her temples.

The booze was really hitting her now. Between it and her guest's spell binding voice, she was having trouble keeping her focus.

"A chart from 1740 shows a tiny island west of Trinidad, but east of the shoals off Venezuela. A chart in 1800 shows no such island. In 1762 a massive hurricane decimated the shoals. It never made land fall or hit a major population area and thus, it has never received much attention, but I believe it stalled over our island for several days and completely washed it away."

"All right, I'll buy that. I've seen what a big storm can do to these small barrier islands."

"Good. So now you see why she has remained hidden for so long, if my uncle's theory is correct."

"So why bring this to me?"

"Ah, now we get to the nitty-gritty, as they say. I made a dive there, well, a snorkel anyway. The GPS on the boat I chartered puts the site in international waters. Obviously, the moment I show up with silver, everyone and his mother will be trying to find the site, I'll get no help from the authorities here, with whom I have some pull, and I don't know very much about international maritime law. I need a legitimate marine archeologist, to make the claim, do the dive and fight the court battles."

"I guess I can see that, but again why me?"

"Partially because you are here and already have a reputation. I have other reasons, but we will discuss them in good time. I will take it you're interested?"

"Of course I am, but you're about a week too late. I'm out of funds, my backers pulled out and I am set to head back to Florida tomorrow."