This is a story that appeared in the April 1993 issue of Lost Treasure about. He is founder and President of the Galleon Explorers Club.
For
years the strand of beach twelve miles south of Ft. Pierce inlet had
been hunted by a pair of determined treasure seekers armed with hopped
up, home brooded metal detectors, both of which had turned up many
unique and very old finds. Understandably so, a tight lip was the rule
on the location of the site. A well-kept secret guarded the finds from
all but the two, who regularly came away with rare and valuable gold and
emerald rings, gold lockets, golden earrings, beautiful porcelain
shards and silver pieces of eight dating no later than 1620.
The
wreck site appeared to be older than the Atocha which sank in 1622 of
Key West, Fl, and was discovered by Mel Fisher in 1985. As these were
made, rumors began to drift about in the treasure hunting community
along the treasure coast of some secret site that was yielding up great
and wonderful treasure finds. I, myself, at the time was actively
involved in the salvage of a circa 1715 wreck which I had found the year
before six miles south of Sebastion Inlet. The wreck turned out to be a
small patachi privateer of approximately 100tons carrying fourteen
six-pound iron guns. It was during this salvage operation by Galleon
Research Inc., my salvage company, that I met Steve, unknown to me at
the time as one of the two who knew of the 1600 treasure beach site.
After awile, a strong bond was established between us.
One day I invited Steve out on the salvage site of the privateer
to view the operations. From the deck of the Tequesta, my forty-foot
research and salvage vessel anchored over the site, we could see the
divers on the bottom as their expended air bubbles charged to the
surface, scattering schools of pogie fish, causing them to flash silver
bellies in the bright sunlight. Eventually, Steve opened the subject of
his recent finds on the beach. In our conversation I learned from Steve,
much to his dismay, that the other person who knew of the 1600 site was
negotiating with a salvage company to sell the location of the wreck.
As Steve stressed that there was no agreement, verbal or written,
between the two of them, I asked him if he would be interested in a
contract giving him a percentage of the finds, if any, from the wreck
site offshore. He agreed and a deal was made and signed by Steve and
myself. The next rough weather day when we could not go to sea, we
headed for the Emerald beach site as Steve affectionately named the
productive strand of sand which was a half mile or so long.
Walking
slowly with our detectors, Steve pointed out each spot where some item
of importance was found, which he had marked by tying ribbons to the
trees along the bluff line. One Day, while Steve was working for his
father, two of my crew members charged up the detectors and headed to
the Emerald Beach site. With great expectations, we set out heading
south following the two
to three foot cut along the bluff. Working our way slowly trying to stay
far enough apart so our detectors wouldn't attract each other, we would
leap frog around when the one in front was busy digging a signal. This
left spaces in our work pattern that we would miss.
After a mile or so of swinging a 15" loop one tends to get a little
tired, so we stopped for a rest under some trees criticallt hanging over
the bluff with roots exposed. While resting, we talked of the
possibilities of what lay just offshore in the frothing, restless sea.
Our mind's were attuned to one thing and one thing alone, "Treasure!"
On our feet again we head-ed back north towards our entry point. Our
only significant finds were some spikes, ship fillings and small ballast
stones, not much value in dollars, but extremely exciting to us,
reconfirming the fact of a wreck offshore.
As we made our way now
with quickened steps, Richard, one of my crew members had turned his
detector off and carried it across his shoulder. Davy, the other crew
member, was bringing up the rear, carrying a full length shovel the same
way. I had moved up the bluff, poking my 15" coil under the tangled
roots of undermined trees that had fallen in storms. The detector I used
was a deep-seeking powerful unit from Europe called an Aquapulse 1a
Deepscan, the best I had run across in my twenty-five years of treasure
hunting. So powerful that after 99 beer cans, you just don't feel like
digging two to tree feet for another one. Jamming the loop under some
overhanging tree roots, I caught a faint signal. I could hardly pick it
up. At first I thought it must be a small piece of foil(this detector
does not discriminate). Taking my foot andscraping away 8"-10" of the
soft sand from the surface, I checked the spot again, this time more
carefully-the signal was stronger. I motioned for Davy to come with the
shovel, "Probably just another beer can,"I said as he started to dig.
Every
foot or so I would check the hole and the tone increased with each try.
Nearly four feet down and the signal was blasting my earphones off. By
now we had dug below the strata where all the trash had been coming
from. Richard and a beach walker had joind us to see what all the
digging was about, and to tell you the truth, I was getting very
interested myself. But I knew better than to get my hopes up, for we had
dug spikes and keel pins from this depth, but not this far up the
beach. Then the shovel struck metal, it would have to be a large target
to have picked it up at this depth. The sand was caving in as fast as we
could throw it out. I took the shovel and cleared away as much as I
could without caving it more in. Then I told Davy, "be ready to get a
hand on it, when and if I can expose it enough!"
I learned years
ago not to jam and chop on a target with the shovel, for once, I cut a
perfect Spanish bronze crucifix in half by digging to energeticlly. So
ever so carefully, I cleared the sand in the bottom of the hole, holding
my breath each time a shovel full would come to the surface and was
discarded.
Davy was standing ready as close as he dared to the edge of the hole
when I heard the shovel scrape metal again. We couldn't see the target,
but knew it was only inches away, when the entire side of the hole began
to give way. I yelled for Davy to "dive for it" as I pulled the shovel
it's entire length from the 5' hole and Davy went inhead first. All we
could see was his two legs and the back side of his pink "baggies." He
was buried alive, up side down, from the waist up. Richard and I
frantically each pulled on a leg as a beach walker stood with gapping
mouth, wondering what the heck was going to happen next.
It was as
though Davy were anchored to the earth. It seemed the more he wiggled,
the tighter the sand got around him. What Richard and I didn't know was
that Davy, in his determination, had latched on to the target and would
not let it go. But slowly we began to gain on the battle. The beach
walker was nervously looking all around as though to callfor help. But
this is a desolete, remote stretch of sand and rarely is used in winter
months, and there was no one in sight. Finally, Davy, desperately
needing some relief, broke the surface with a shout, and in his right
hand was the most beautiful piace of 16th century history one could ever
imagine-a fourteen inch gold and bronze signal cannon.
We all started jumping and dancing, shouting and singing, even the
beach walker joined in our jubilation, by now realizing the signifigance
of our great find. Needless to say, there was celebration and
congradulating the rest of the day. Currently, the cannon is being
replicated by a limited edition of only 1,000 pieces in bronze, silver
and gold. What a way to celebrate the 500th Anniversary of the discovery
of America by Columbus, a collector's dream come true. This Circa
1500's signal gun was used to communicate with other ships in the fleet
or for announcing arrivals in foriegn ports. Nomally a very functional
part of a ship, but due to the softness of the metal, our gun has the
touch hole blown out.
Upon closer inspection, it is apparent the
gun was used as a tool in place of a hammer, probly to drive spikes, we
surmise, to erect temporary shelter for the survivors of the shipwreck,
using the ship's timbers to fashion crude forts to shield themselves
against the elements, and savage Indians who frequented these coasts in
that day. Having no tools, one would use what was at hand-with the
cannon powder all wet or lost and the gun useless as a weapon, it would
naturally serve as a club or hammer, eventually to be lost for centuries
in the golden sands on the site of a forgotton lost Galleon. Because we
believe this ship was on it's way back to Spain, we suspect this to be
just another way of smuggling devised by the clever men of the day to
beat the King out of his Royal fifth, a tax imposed on all wealth
brought back from the rich Colonies of the new World
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