Don Bruns - Too Much Stuff

She stood up and handed Em a piece of the resort’s stationery with the translation of the coded document.

“This is from my great-grandfather, Matthew Kriegel. He was on the island when the hurricane hit. Please, read it.”

Em nodded and read out loud from the translated version.

I am safe. For the moment. As you know, I was entrusted with over 2,000 pounds of gold to be used in the purchase and upkeep of properties for the railroad. The future of the railroad at this point would appear to be in grave jeopardy. The rails themselves are twisted and uprooted everywhere you look .

At this very moment there are crews arriving by boat to search the island for bodies, of which there are many, lying on the ground, hanging in the trees, their decay causing foul odors that spread for miles. There are hordes of men coming in and looting what remains there may be of people’s homes and businesses, (although little remains at all) and there is utter chaos among the people who survived .

Medical care is slow in coming and I myself am in need of someone to help mend a broken arm .

That being said, I am still responsible for the gold that I brought with me. I trust no one, but must trust someone. Even if I were in excellent physical condition, I could not move the heavy crates. There is no one to take the gold back to the mainland so I am exploring several options .

Em looked up. “I can’t imagine how bad things were. And to be reading a firsthand account-”

James tapped his foot. “The gold, Em. He’s about to tell us what happened to the gold.”

She glowered at him and continued.

Miracle that it is, the cases are unharmed. Ten heavy wooden containers with the gold still inside, these wooden crates of riches are as sturdy as an oak. So, their being yet untouched, I can have them moved several places. Hiring a few good men, I can put them on small boats and drop them off at sea. I cannot get a boat back to Miami at this time. A good place would seem to be the rocks that are directly off the resort (which no longer stands) called The Millionaire’s Club. Corporate giants had built a spur off of our railroad to park their private railcars when they visited this fine establishment .

I shook my head. “There were the regular railroad passengers, then there were these guys who had their own railcars. I can’t imagine what that would have been like.”

Em continued reading.

The other choice I have come up with is to bury them on land, although the chance of digging very deep is fraught with danger because we are only inches above the water table .

I intend to explore both options. If I bury the gold, it will be on the property of The Millionaire’s Club. I will estimate the longitude and latitude of that location. The crates are 14? by 9? and 6 inches deep. They weigh approximately two hundred pounds each .

I pass this information to you, my darling wife, and hope we are connected in the not too distant future. However, things are in upheaval and every minute brings a new disaster or gruesome discovery .

My arm aches, and I am feverish. I fear that the rotting corpses will spread disease. There is already some talk of burning them in a mass funeral pyre. I pray that I will not succumb to an early death and be one of those whose ashes are cast to the wind .

I am burying this letter in a metal box and you alone have the location of that box. Please, pray for me, but if I do not return you will have the yellow treasure to do with what you will .

Longitude: 80° 37? 40? W Latitude: 24° 55? 30.72? E

“And that’s it.”

No one spoke for at least a minute. We were busy absorbing what we’d heard. Finally Mrs. T. broke the silence.

“Matthew Kriegel was protecting the company assets. I was a little worried that I was going to find out he’d basically stolen the gold.”

“Kind of like we’re going to do?” James had to smart off.

“We’ve gone over this before, Mr. Lessor. There is no railroad company. In fact, there really wasn’t one after the hurricane. It went belly up.”

I didn’t mention that the gold would have helped their financial situation.

“He didn’t trust anyone.” Em stood up and walked over to the balcony door, breathing deeply. “Can you picture that? The stench of dead bodies everywhere, this poor guy with his arm broken, feverish. Who knows what was going through his mind? None of these people had ever witnessed this kind of devastation before.”

“What’s important is that we’ve got two places where he may have hidden the gold. We’ve got a serious treasure hunt.” James had a grin plastered on his face.

I surveyed the assembled party and we all had a smile. Except Em. After reading about the death and destruction, we’d found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Now all we had to do was dig it up.

Who was it that said, “Nothing is as easy as it seems?”

“I think he had it shipped out to the rocks.” James was speculating.

We sipped more mai tais at the poolside bar and stared out at the water. Up until now, the idea of actually finding forty-four million dollars’ worth of gold was somewhat of a pipe dream. I thought it was possible, but I had no idea how it would feel.

Now, I could taste it. Feel it. Dream it in 3D. I was convinced that Kriegel had made this fortune accessible. And that meant that James and I and Em would be rich.

I’d checked it out at the dive shop. It was very doable. “I can dive it.”

“Skip, this is risky.” Em seemed concerned.

“Cheeca Rocks, Em. They have a supervised dive site out there. I can veer off and check out the territory.”

I’d taken a course at Samuel and Davidson University (Sam and Dave U) and learned the basics of diving. I mean I was certified, but with limited experience. But how tough could this be? Cheeca Rocks was a regular site, and was only fifteen to twenty feet deep at its deepest point. No big deal. In fact, for an experienced diver it would be almost claustrophobic. I was far from an experienced diver.

“Pard, your diving experience, this is awesome.”

James had majored in parties and sex. I was close behind, but in this case I’d taken a class that actually made a difference. Should have called it Treasure Hunting 101.

“It does make more sense to check the dive site first. We can’t just start digging at Cheeca Lodge. I mean, they may call the sheriff.” It was obvious James wanted no more run-ins with the law.

I unfolded a map I’d picked up at Holiday Isle’s dive shop.

“It’s here.” I pointed to the spot off the shore.

24° 54? 245? N and 080° 36? 885? W.

“But if it’s a popular spot, wouldn’t someone have found the cases by now?” Em always saw the other side.

The same thought had run through my head. Thousands of tourists had visited the spot, snorkeling, scuba diving, and if the crates had been left out there, someone would have found them years ago.

“What kind of camouflage would they have?” James asked.

“Coral.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s a lot of camouflage. I would guess you could accumulate several feet of coral in seventy-five years.”

“Accumulate? So it would grow over the cases?”

I’d read about some of Mel Fisher’s treasures that had been encrusted with coral. It was hard to make out the items at all. Only because he knew the location of the ships that he investigated did he find a lot of the valuable pieces.

“If Kriegel swore the guys who hid the gold to silence, there would be no reason for anyone to suspect that a treasure was just offshore.”