I have been doing a
little more research into Verrill’s life and work of late and a had a query about
his searching for gold. That caused me to look at Verrill’s book, They Found
Gold of 1936. This book contains som e
interesting stories, a few of the m
involving the author’s travels.
Since the book is not freely
available, I am in the process of adding
it here in sections.
THEY FOUND GOLD
The Story of SUCCESSFUL TREASURE HUNTS
By A HYATT VERRILL
Digitized by Doug Frizzle, November 2013
Stillwoods.Blogspot.Com
TO The army of rom antic
and adventurous souls who follow the
lure of treasure hunting, this volume is dedicated by the ir
fellow treasure hunter—
THE AUTHOR
Treasure Hunter
I have hunted for galleons 'neath tropical seas,
I have dug and have delved under hoary old trees
For treasures that rumor declared had been hid
By Blackbeard or Morgan or bold Captain Kidd.
I have studied the
cyphers of countless old tom es,
With the
crosses and figures, the skulls and
crossbones.
I have followed the
rainbow o'er mountains and plains
With never a doubloon to pay for my pains.
I have searched amid ruins and burial mounds.
I have disinterred mummies, and hundreds I've
found.
But no gems or jewels have yet been revealed,
Nor hoards of vast riches my labors unsealed.
I have read all the
volumes, I know all the lore
Of gold that was hidden on every wild shore.
I have tramped through the
jungles along the faint trail
Of the
ancient Gold Road
I have hunted for riches in tom bs and in graves.
I've followed the
lure through dark, dismal caves.
Though up to the
present, no treasures I've won,
In my questing for gold I have had lots of fun.
Table of Contents
Introduction.
Chapter I.
THE BLOCKADE RUNNERS' TREASURE SAFE. 1
How a loss became a profit.
Chapter II.
BILLY BOWLEGS' BLOOD-STAINED TREASURE. 10
The story of the
last of the pirates and the search for his hidden treasures.
Chapter III.
THE TREASURE-TROVE OF
The strange story of a Maine
Chapter IV.
THE GOLDEN BOOKS OF THE MAYAS. 31
An amazing tale and a treasure hunt in the Yucatan
Chapter V.
A TREASURE THAT WAS FOUND AND LOST. 64
How a treasure hunter found the Vera Cruz treasure only to lose it.
Chapter VI.
THE TREASURE OF THE HIDDEN CRATER. 70
The story of the
Valverde treasure and how one man found the
hidden crater.
Chapter VII.
HUNTING THE WORLD'S MOST MYSTERIOUS TREASURE. 86
The baffling treasure of Oak Island the attempts made to secure it.
Chapter VIII.
THE WORLD'S MOST SOUGHT-FOR TREASURE. 106
The hidden treasures of Cocos Island the m.
Chapter IX.
SALVAGING THE SPANISH GALLEON. 122
The author's visit to Silver Shoals and the finding of a sunken treasure galleon.
Chapter X.
OUR SECOND VOYAGE TO THE SILVER SHOALS. 138
The jinx shows its hand and tragedy follows.
Chapter XI.
DREDGING THE TREASURE OF THE GOLDEN HIND. 150
How the
depression led to a fortune.
Chapter XII.
DIGGING TREASURES FROM ANCIENT GRAVES .
160
Millions from
tom bs. The author's royal mummy. The
tale of a golden hoard.
Chapter XIII.
TRUTH THAT IS STRANGER THAN FICTION. 176
The treasure found through a dream. The treasure
that bought a department store. The treasure of the
old cannon. The hog's treasure trove.
Chapter XIV.
THE TREASURE SHIP THAT VANISHED. 186
The strange story of the
SANTA MARGARITA. The salvaged treasure that was hijacked.
Chapter XV.
THE LOST MINE OF TISINGAL. 198
How the
author was guided to the long sought
lost mine.
Chapter XVI.
TREASURE HUNTS IN HOME WATERS. 210
The famous MERIDA the East River .
Chapter XVII.
THE MOST SUCCESSFUL OF ALL TREASURE HUNTS. 217
The remarkable salvaging of the LAURENTIC. Searching for the
LUSITANIA
Chapter XVIII.
THE GREATEST OF ALL TREASURE HUNTS. 225
Preparing for the
greatest treasure hunt. Where no man has ever trod. Broadcasting from the
bottom of the
sea.
Appendix.
HINTS FOR TREASURE HUNTERS. 233
Why so many treasure hunts fail. Misleading
charts and faked maps. Incom plete
data. Ignorance of conditions. Treasure hunting a gamble. Cost of treasure
hunting. Inadequate funds. Laws and regulations. Concessions. Outfits required.
A game for wealthy men. Salvaging sunken ships. Modem devices. A business
proposition. The lure of treasure hunting.
AUTHENTIC UNRECOVERED TREASURES IN AMERICA
A list of known, historically authe ntic, lost, hidden and sunken treasures of America the time of writing remain
unfound.
LIST OF TREASURES ACTUALLY KNOWN TO HAVE BEEN
RECOVERED OR SALVAGED
IN RECENT YEARS.
List of Illustrations
A Sketch Map of Treasures Found and Unfound
Frontispiece
A Diver Examining an Old Treasure Wreck in the Bahamas Facing page 6
A Maya Temple in Yucatan
Sketch Plan of Oak Island Showing Treasure Pit,
Tunnels, etc. page 91
Sectional Plan of Oak Island Money Pit page 93
The Lima the dral. The Treasures of This
Ancient Church Were Hidden on Cocos Island Facing page 112
Sketch Map of the
Sunken Galleon, Showing Location of Reefs, and Objects Salvaged page 129
Salvaging a Sunken Galleon Facing page 132
The Golden Regalia of Inca's Mummy Facing page
170
A Peruvian Mummy Decked with Gold Facing page
170
Where the
Spaniards Cached Their Salvaged Treasure Facing page 196
A Guardian of the
Lost Mine Facing page 208
The Ogre-Like Suit To Be Used in the Greatest Treasure Hunt Facing page 228
Introduction
FROM time immemorial, and in all lands, men have
been hunting for treasure. In fact it would scarcely be an exaggeration to
state that som ewhere, som eone is engaged in treasure hunting every hour of
every day in every year. And this being the
case it is not at all surprising that now and again som e
hidden, lost or sunken treasure is found and recovered.
But unlike othe r
successful exploits, successful treasure hunts are not as a rule blazoned to the world. For many and obvious reasons the lucky ones usually reveal little or nothing, and
as a result, one hears far more of unsuccessful than of successful treasure
hunts, which is perhaps the
principal reason why the average
person regards treasure hunters as visionary impractical beings, and treasure
hunts as futile as searching for the
pot of gold at the foot of the rainbow. But this viewpoint does not prevent the m from
being keenly interested in tales of treasure and treasure hunts. Perhaps the re is no one subject in the
line of literature which holds a greater lure and arouses a greater interest
than that of treasure, and regardless of race, station, sex or age, human
beings, or at least a large proportion of human beings, find a real thrill and
fascination in stories of lost, buried or sunken treasures.
Just why this should be so is difficult to
explain. The mention of a few millions in gold stored in a bank vault will
cause no com ment, no particular
interest or reaction. But speak of a fraction of the
amount buried in the sands of som e lonely isle, or lying in the
rotting hulk of som e Spanish galleon
at the bottom
of the sea, and the keenest interest is at once aroused, although in
all probability the re is about as
much chance of helping oneself to the
one as to the othe r.
Even the
most practical, hard-headed business and professional men often get a
tremendous "kick" out of lost treasure and treasure hunting, and I
have known a number of men who would never dream of investing a few hundred
dollars in a business deal that was not certain to pay profits, but who would
almost clamor to put thousands into a treasure hunt.
It is not always the
lure of riches that attracts, for the
multi-millionaire is as often bitten by the
treasure hunt bug as is the poor
man. Neithe r is it the hope of getting som ething
for nothing, for treasure hunts cost money, and a lot of it, as even the rankest amateur realizes. Hence we can only
assume that the re is som ething about hidden or lost treasures that appeals
to the streak of rom ance and adventure that most of us possess.
But quite irrespective of the
whys and wherefores of the almost
universal interest in treasures and treasure hunting, the
fact remains that it is an ever fascinating the me,
regardless of whethe r or not the treasures have been found. For that matter, the most thrilling, rom antic
and interesting tales often deal with the
unsuccessful searches.
In this book I have not attempted to include all
or even a small portion of known treasure hunts, successful or not. To do so
would require not one but many volumes, and, moreover, the
stories of treasure hunts of past centuries, and of past decades for that
matter, have been told and retold and published in numerous books, until the treasure loving public is as familiar with the feats of Sir William Phipps and othe r famous treasure hunters as with the adventures of Robinson Crusoe or Christopher Columbus.
Neithe r
have I included all of the more
recent treasure hunts, eithe r
successful or othe rwise, for many of
the se are wholly devoid of rom ance, adventure or story interest, and com e more properly under the
head of wrecking or salvaging jobs than treasure hunting.
But the re
have been many recent treasure hunts, in several of which I have taken an
active part, which hold a deal of rom ance,
much high adventure, abundant thrills and great human interest, as well as
drama, tragedy and, not infrequently, humor also, and the
stories of the more outstanding and
noteworthy of the se will be found
herein.
Also, let me assure my readers that all of the se tales are fact and none fiction, although for
sundry and obvious reasons I have, as a rule, used fictional names for the persons mentioned, othe r
than historical characters.
And I hereby wish to disclaim all responsibility
for the statements of values of
treasures found or unfound, unless verified by official, documentary or
historical records. I have no desire to be blamed by som e
future treasure hunter who, after reading my book, discovers a treasure and
finds only a mere million dollars' worth of gold where he had been led to believe
several millions had been buried.
Finally, let me remind one and all that
treasures are very much like fish in a way, for just as the
biggest fish is always the one that
escapes from the
hook, so the biggest treasures are
those which still remain undiscovered. Perhaps that was the
reason why the Spaniards called the fabulously vast treasure of Chan Chan the
"Peje grande" or Big Fish, for it never yet has been found.
THEY FOUND GOLD
CHAPTER I
The Blockade Runners' Treasure Safe
THERE have been many more treasures found than
is generally supposed, for, as a rule, a person who finds a hoard of gold or
silver, coins or jewels, seldom
broadcasts the tidings to the world at large. There are many reasons why the lucky finder prefers to keep the matter quiet. In many countries the governments claim the
lion's share of treasure-trove found within the ir
boundaries or the ir territorial
waters, and the person who has spent
time and money in searching for a treasure, and who does all the work and takes all the
risks, is naturally averse to handing the
officials a large percentage of his find. Also, as treasures are usually found—if
found at all—in wild or remote districts, the re
is always the danger of bandits,
hijackers or othe r scoundrels
helping the mselves to treasures if
it becom es noised about that the y have been found. So if treasure hunters fail to
report a successful end to the ir
quest it must not be assumed that the ir
hunt went unrewarded. Occasionally, however, som e
fortunate treasure hunter tells som e
friend of his luck, or som e member
of the party or expedition talks,
and the truth leaks out. And som etimes, also, when returning treasure hunters
suddenly and inexplicably adopt a mode of life not at all in keeping with the ir former financial status, one may put two and
two togethe r and make a fairly
certain four, as one might say. It is rathe r
strange, too, that in very many instances the
really successful treasure hunter is the
amateur at the game, som e fellow who is by no means a treasure hunting addict
but who, quite accidentally, gets wind of som e
hoard of riches and by merest chance or luck secures the
treasure.
This was the
case with the man who, about a year
ago, won a small fortune on a treasure hunt of barely two weeks' duration, and the reby once again demonstrated the fact that truth is strainer than fiction, and
also that "to him who hath shall be given," for Mr. Dudley, as we may
call him, was already a very wealthy man. In fact if he had not been wealthy he
never would have found the treasure.
And by the same token, if he had not
been aiding and abetting a violation of our laws the
treasure would in all probability still be resting among the
corals and the sea-fans on the bottom
of the ocean in the Bahama Islands .
Like so many, in fact the
majority of us in the pre-repeal
days, Mr. Dudley had his bootlegger. And when, on one occasion, the purveyor of illicit wet goods asked his best
custom er for a loan of five thousand
dollars with which to purchase a plane in which to run cargoes of liquor from Bimini and Grand Bahama to Florida, and eloquently
described the immense profits of
such a venture if discreetly conducted Mr. Dudley quite willingly advanced him the required sum.
To Dudley the
investment was merely a "flyer," a gamble, and when a short time
later, the man announced that the federal officers had seized the plane and cargo Dudley
waved aside the loss of his five
thousand as of little consequence.
"Hard luck!" he remarked. "But I
took the risk so let's forget
it."
"I'm not sure you couldn't get your money
back with interest," declared the
bootlegger. "When I was flying across the
Bahama Bank I spotted an old wreck. It looked mighty good to me, and every one
down the re tells stories of blockade
runners that were sunk with treasure during the
Civil War. I've got a sort of a hunch that the
wreck I saw is one of the m. But I
guess you wouldn't be interested enough to put up the
cash to find out."
"Is that so!" the
othe r exclaimed. "It strikes me
it might be a lot of fun going down the re
to that old wreck. Do you know" he chuckled "ever since I was a kid I've
been crazy over treasure hunting yarns. What would it set me back to have a try
at it?"
A few days later the
Dudley yacht slipped quietly from the New
York the rn cruise. In addition to the
owner and his bootlegger friend the re
were two deep sea divers aboard, and under the
schooner's hatches was a com plete
diving equipment. It was not so simple a matter to locate the wreck as the
treasure hunters had supposed, for viewing the
banks from the
air and searching the same area in a
small boat are two very different matters. Moreover, the
flying bootlegger had only a general idea as to the
location of the wreck he had
sighted. But he had noted the exact course
he had followed, which reduced the
search to a definite and restricted area, and back and forth the small boats cruised, the ir
crews peering through "water glasses" at the
coral reefs and sea-gardens with the ir
strange multi-colored growths. Fishes of brilliant blue, green, scarlet, orange,
as gorgeous as butterflies, swam lazily among the
purple and golden sea-fans, the
waving lavender sea-plumes, the
crimson sea-feathe rs and giant cup
sponges. Sea anemones two feet or more in diameter spread magenta and mauve
tentacles from crevices between the orange, scarlet, green and yellow corals. Huge
vermilion crabs and peacock-spotted crawfish scuttled from
sight as the boats' shadows fell
across the reefs. Giant maroon-colored
starfish dotted the sandy areas between
the reefs, immense queen conchs
moved ponderously about upon the sea
floor, and always the re were the sharks, sinister monsters constantly cruising,
like pirate craft, about the reefs.
Twice the searchers felt sure the y had found the
wreck when rusty, coral-encrusted anchors and rotting timbers were sighted. But
each time the boot-legger shook his
head and declared the y were not his wreck
and that the latter was still
clearly distinguishable as a ship's hull. And the n
one day a shout from one of the boats and the
frantic waving of a red flag brought the
othe rs hurrying alongside. There,
thirty feet below the surface, with
its shattered bilges resting upon the
jagged coral, was the remains of
what once had been a small steam brigantine. The wreck had been located, every
one was excited, and the divers
immediately busied the mselves with
preparations to descend and explore the
old hulk. Carefully the yacht was
jockeyed into position and securely moored fore and aft as dose to the wreck as was safe. Diving gear was brought on
deck, the air pump rigged and
tested, tackle overhauled, and the
divers' heavy ladder was lowered overside. Aided by his assistant, the master diver donned his suit and, as helpless as
a baby in the stiff cumbersom e costume, waited while the
heavy bronze collar was fitted about his neck, the
lead-soled shoes were buckled on his feet and the
canvas over-alls were drawn over his legs. Then, clambering clumsily over the ship's rail, he descended the
ladder until his head was on a level with the
bulwarks. About his waist was strapped the
belt with its lead weights, the life
line was adjusted and secured under his arm-pits, and, thrusting a cake of
chewing gum into his mouth, he bent to receive the
grotesque helmet and adjusted the
valves to his air hose as the pump
began to clank. And here let me pause to explain that chewing gum is a very
essential matter in deep sea diving, the
movement of the jaws in mastication
and the saliva produced preventing
danger of injury to the ear drums.
At last, with the helmet locked in
place, with air hose and life line cleared and held by the
tender, the assistant tapped upon the copper helmet to signal all was ready, the diver signaled all well, and releasing his hold
upon the ladder sank slowly through the clear water with a silvery stream of bubbles
rushing upward from the escape valve of his head piece. Reaching the bottom ,
he signaled for a crowbar to be lowered, and tense with excitement, Dudley and the othe rs
watched his every movement as he secured the
bar and moved, like som e strange sea
monster in a "slow motion" picture, toward the
wreck. What would he find? Was the
old sunken hulk empty or was the re a
treasure chest, a store of golden and silver coins or othe r
valuables hidden among the sea-fans,
the sponge growths and the stag-horn coral? Slowly, exasperatingly,
deliberately, the misshapen figure
moved about the wreck, poking with
his bar, prying loose a rotten plank, wrenching away a mass of sponge or coral,
and raising a smoke-like cloud of sand and silt which almost concealed him from the
watchers above.
Over and about the
old wreck he climbed, until at last he dropped from
sight among the skeleton-like
timbers of the hull. Slowly the minutes passed, and the n,
once more the weird figure appeared
and signaled for a rope and tackle to be sent down.
"He's found som ething!"
exclaimed Dudley . "Som ething he wants to send up!"
The assistant diver spat over the rail. "Sure has," he agreed as he
lowered the coil of rope and tackle
to his mate below. "But that ain't sayin' it's treasure," he added.
"Maybe just a old gun or a cask of rum or som e-thin'."
The bootlegger laughed. "Don't know but
what that might be called treasure," he observed. "Liquor that's been
down the re ever since that ship was
wrecked ought to be pretty well aged and high priced, I'd say."
Again the
diver vanished in the wreck, to
reappear presently and signal for those above to pull him up. "Don't know
what I've made fast to," he said as his assistant removed the helmet and weighted belt, and the diver climbed aboard and shuffling across the deck seated himself on the
hatch. "Maybe it's what you're after and the n
again maybe it's just a case of cargo," he continued. "Might as well
haul her up and find out."
Slowly the
slack came in, the rope tightened
under the strain of the electric hoist, and up from
the maze of rotten, shattered
timbers and twisted iron work came a squarish object covered with weeds and sea
growths.
Speculation ran high as it came nearer and
nearer the surface, until at last it
was lowered, dripping, upon the schooner's
decks. As full of excitement as any boy, the
owner of the yacht seized a hammer
and com menced knocking off the accumulation of coral. "It's metal!"
he fairly shouted, as a section of corroded rusty iron was revealed. Seizing
hammers, hatchets and crowbars, the othe rs attacked the
covering of coral. "It's a chest all right," announced the diver.
"Or a safe," exclaimed Dudley .
"Pretty near rusted through," declared
the bootlegger. "Let's knock a
hole in it and see what's inside." As he spoke he struck the metal a resounding blow with the crowbar, a gaping jagged hole was torn in the corroded iron, and out from
the rent poured a flood of
dull-yellow coins.
"Gold!" shouted Dudley ,
dropping on his knees. "Gold sovereigns, as I live!"
Shouting, laughing, excited, the men crowded about, picking up the coins, examining the m,
clinking the m togethe r. Gold! Minted British sovereigns! Treasure!
"Here, bring a bucket, som e one," cried Dudley .
"We'll gathe r up this money
before we lose som e of it in all
this muck. Then we'll rip the safe
wide open; the re must be a lot more
inside."
With the
coins safe in the bucket, the men fell to work, and with hammers and bars tore
away a large section of the salvaged
safe, to reveal a mass of gold and silver coins and the
remnants of sodden, rotten, canvas bags.
"Holy mackerel!" exclaimed the diver. "I never seen such a heap of money
in my life. Must be pretty near a million dollars in the re."
"Million nothing," declared the bootlegger. "A million dollars in gold is
close to a ton."
"Well, this old tin box wasn't no
lightweight, judgin' by the strain
on the hoist," com mented one of the
crew. "What do you say, Mr. Dudley?"
"Don't ask me. All I can say is it's a lot
of money, and most of it British, dated in the
sixties. Guess it's a blockade runner's safe all right."
"Hey, what's this?" demanded the bootlegger who had thrust his hand into the safe and was examining a sodden, pulpy, grayish
mass he had extracted Then: "Damned if it isn't money, too!" he
cried. "Paper money!"
There was no doubt of it, although the once crisp Bank of England notes were reduced to
pulp and were utterly worthless.
With the
first wild excitement over, the men
fell to work, filling buckets with the
coins until the safe was empty.
"Bet we're the
only men who ever handled gold sovereigns by the
bucketful," grinned the
bootlegger as he mopped his forehead and gazed at the
galvanized iron buckets filled with the
minted coins.
The bootlegger grinned. "Thank Uncle Sam,
not me," he said. "If those prohibition guys over in the Glades hadn't grabbed my plane we wouldn't be
here with near ninety grand right now."
The assistant diver rubbed the stubble on his chin and spat into the sea. "Just the
same," he observed reflectively, "it's a damn shame about all the m wads of bills. Hell, I'll bet the y was worth more'n all this hard money, and just
nothin' but slops now. Why the
blazes didn't the m blockade runners
have a watertight safe?"
CHAPTER II
Billy Bowlegs' Blood-Stained Treasure
OF all the
pirates who, in the early part of the nineteenth century, infested the Gulf of Mexico
and the neighboring seas, the most cruel, ruthless and probably the most successful, was Billy Bowlegs. Just who he
was or whence he came, no one ever knew. But the re
was no doubt that he was English or at any rate British and when he first
appeared in New Orleans, in 1810, he went under the
name of William Rogers. Seemingly an honest and law-abiding man, he bought a
small plantation about seventy-five miles from
the city, married a Choctaw Indian wom an and, in due course of time, became the fathe r
of four sons and two daughters.
Obviously, however, neithe r
family ties nor a planter's life could satisfy Rogers the estate to be cared for
by his dusky spouse and his half-breed offspring, off he went on his new
career. Joining the Lafitte Brothe rs at Batavia the estimation of the Lafittes. And when the
quixotic Frenchmen enlisted the ir
services on the American side during
the Battle of New Orleans, and for
so doing received pardons from the Federal Government, Rogers, or Billy Bowlegs as
he was now called, distinguished himself for his reckless bravery. But his
association with the Batavians had
taught him a few things. There was more money to be made dishonestly than by honest
means, he had discovered; human lives, he had learned, were a rathe r cheap com modity
after all, and danger and battle had becom e
an obsession. So with the breaking
up of the Batavia the ring togethe r a few of the
Lafittes' henchmen, and acquiring three small vessels, he established himself
on the shores of unfrequented Santa Rosa
Sound. Here, in the maze of bayous,
creeks, islands, swamps and hidden coves, with an abundance of fish and game,
Rogers and his gang were safe from the long arm of the
law and carried on a lucrative smuggling industry. But, before very long, it
occurred to the resourceful Billy
Bowlegs that the re would be a far
greater profit in smuggling contraband into the
States if the cost of purchasing the goods were eliminated; and as the only means of thus reducing overhead was to take
possession of what he required without regard to the
rightful owners' consent, he decided to com bine
piracy with smuggling. To Rogers and his shipmates all vessels were fair prey
regardless of the ir nationality,
although Spanish ships were his specialty, owing to the
fact that the y carried richer cargoes
than those of France , Holland , England
or the United States om Mexico ,
Panama and elsewhere in
Spanish America to Spain the
taking. To be sure, the taking was
not such a safe or easy matter. The plate ships were always convoyed by powerful
heavily-armed frigates, and the
ordinary type of pirates who infested the
Gulf and the Caribbean
gave the se convoys a wide berth. But
this did not mean that Billy Bowlegs had the
field all to himself. On the
contrary, he had a very serious com petitor
in the self-styled King of the Pirates, the
famous Gasparilla, the ex-nobleman
of Spain , José Gaspar, who
had established his headquarters at Charlotte
Harbor
On more than one occasion the
King of the Pirates and Billy
Bowlegs very nearly came to grips; but as the re
was a certain amount of honor among the se
thieves of the sea, and an unwritten
law that dog did not eat dog, as one might say, the
two scourges of the Gulf managed to
ply the ir trade without flying at
each othe r's throats, and, eventually,
the y became quite fast friends as
pirates go, for each recognized in the
othe r the
one quality both admired and respected bravery. No one ever accused Gasparilla
of being a coward, and whatever his short-com ings
may have been Billy Bowlegs did not know the
meaning of the word fear. Also, both
pirate chieftains were absolutely ruthless and cruel, and as utterly regardless
of human life as ravening wolves. Both thoroughly believed in the axiom
that dead men tell no tales, and while the
Spaniard's Latin temperament and amorous and sentimental nature led him to
spare female captives (whom he added
to his harem) even though he murdered every man who did not join his forces,
Billy Bowlegs spared none, and never permitted a man, wom an
or child who fell into his clutches to live to tell the
tale.
For this reason no one can say with any degree
of certainty how many ships or what cargoes were taken by this last of the Gulf pirates. But judging by the number of ships which vanished, and the fact that in a few short years he amassed an
immense fortune, he must have been most successful in his nefarious career. But
the heydey of piracy was nearing its
end. Being no fool, Billy Bowlegs realized that the
days of piracy were rapidly drawing to a close and that, with the United States Government bent on exterminating the pirates, and with British and American warships
scouring the seas in search of the corsairs, it was about time he retired from business. In fact, he had held on long after his
com peers had retired or had met with
the ir just deserts. His erstwhile
friend, Gasparilla, had ended his spectacular career by dramatically wrapping a
piece of chain-cable about his body and leaping into the
sea rathe r than be taken prisoner
and hanged at the yard-arm of an
American corvette that had him cornered. But Billy Bowlegs had no intention of
com mitting suicide or being hanged.
So, in 1838, the last of the Gulf pirates paid his men the ir
prom ised shares, bade the m farewell and God speed, and busied himself
caching his blood-stained loot in secret hiding places. The bulk of his fortune
he buried on the northe rn shore of a sandy island. Then, on the neighboring mainland, he cached his minted coins
in two separate hoards. But as he did not wish to disturb the se extemporized safe deposit vaults except in
case of som e unforeseen emergency,
he retained a few hundred thousand dollars in specie aboard his ship, a trim
and speedy little schooner ninety feet on the
water line, twenty-two feet in beam, drawing six feet of water and armed with
eighteen guns.
For a few years the reafter,
Billy Bowlegs, resuming the name of Rogers the re were no lost ships whose
disappearance could be charged to the
account of the notorious Billy
Bowlegs, and honest merchant skippers thanked God and the
American navy for having driven the
pirates from the
waters of the Gulf
of Mexico . But like so many othe rs
of his profession, Rogers the call of the sea. He pined for the
excitement and din of battle and the
thunder of guns. He lusted for blood and murder, mutilated fellow men and wom en, and regardless of the
peril, or perhaps because of it, he decided to have one more fling at piracy.
No one knows, no one but his crew ever knew, what took place on this last
cruise or what ships he took and scuttled with all on board. But obviously he
had lost none of his skill as a pirate, for in a few short weeks his ship's
hold was laden to the hatches with
sacks of hand-picked gold ore, chests of gold, and silver coins and bullion. He
had not acquired his loot without a struggle. A number of his spars had been
shot away, the re were canvas-stopped
holes in his schooner's hull, great jagged gaps showed in her bulwarks, her canvas
was riddled and torn and she was leaking badly from
round-shot wounds below her water line. But she was still afloat and seaworthy,
and despite her crippled spars and patched rigging she could still show a clean
pair of heels to any craft of her size in the
Gulf of Mexico . Billy Bowlegs had satiated his
desire for bloodshed and excitement and loot, and satisfied with the outcom e
of his last cruise, he headed for his lair on the
western coast of Florida the evil genius
which had watched over him, had deserted him. A British sloop-of-war appeared upon
the horizon, and knowing that a
vessel in the condition of Rogers the British com mander instantly gave chase.
It was no weathe r
for a partially crippled ship to crowd on sail with safety; the re was a gale of wind blowing; a heavy sea was
running, and Billy Bowlegs realized that to attempt to outrun the warship under such conditions would be hopeless.
But his intimate knowledge of the coast
stood him in good stead. A few miles ahead he knew of a good harbor, a large
bay protected by a bar which the
warship could not cross, but with enough water to enable the
light-draught schooner to enter.
Piling on every stitch of canvas which his spars
could stand, the pirate drove off
before the howling gale which was
steadily increasing and piling up a tremendous sea which was breaking in a smothe r of foam upon the
bar.
Although the
schooner raced across, yet she struck bottom
more than once as the breakers
dropped her, and at each shock, rigging and top-hamper went by the board, while green seas washed her from bow to stern, carrying away deck-houses and
fittings, and drowning several of the
crew. But she still floated when at last she reached the
calm surface of the lagoon inside the bar, and anchor was dropped beyond reach of the enemy's guns.
The British, however, were not to be cheated of the ir prey so easily, and, backing his yards, the corvette's com mander
lowered away boats filled with armed bluejackets and marines who pulled for the crippled schooner. Then, to prevent his vessel
and her precious cargo from falling into
the enemy's hands, Rogers om s
of water. Tossing a few supplies into the
long-boat, the pirates made for the shore and took to the
woods.
With the
schooner at the bottom of the
bay, and her crew concealed in the
jungle, the British gave up and sailed
away. When at last the y had vanished
beyond the horizon, Billy and the twenty-seven survivors of his crew came from the ir
hiding places, built shacks on the
beach, and busied the mselves
salvaging what the y could from the ir
scuttled vessel. With neithe r divers
nor equipment it was impossible to recover the
treasure, even had the re been time
to do so. But friend Bowlegs had no idea of abandoning his sunken loot, even if
he did possess a fortune in treasure already. His plan was to build a good camp,
leave two of his trusted officers in charge, and make his way to Louisiana the
necessary equipment, and returning to the
cove with his family, he would make his hom e
the re until he had salvaged the cargo of his schooner.
It may seem strange that a man who had salted
down more riches than he could ever need did not charge off the schooner and her cargo to profit and loss, and
return to civilization for good and all. But Billy Bowlegs Rogers was not only
an exceedingly avaricious scoundrel but miserly, and it was not in his nature
to leave a million or more resting in shoal water without making an effort to get
it.
In due course of time his plans were accom plished, and in a small sloop Rogers and his family
set sail for the bay. But only four
men were the re to greet him. One was
Pedro, the Spanish mate, anothe r was Jim Kelly, the
bo's'n, and the othe r two were Spanish seamen. Of the othe r
twenty-one, som e had been killed by
hostile Indians, som e had deserted
and som e had died of fever. Thus
short of men, all Bowlegs' efforts to recover his treasure proved fruitless,
and when his wife died of fever he gave up, and moving to the othe r
shore of the bay he built a log
cabin and settled down. By 1865, Billy Bowlegs, still dwelling within sight of the spot where his schooner had gone down, was the sole survivor of the
piratical crew. Pedro and the two othe r Spaniards had died years before, and Jim Kelly,
who had married, raised a family and had becom e
a respectable citizen, had also passed away. Rogers the ir
fathe r's hidden treasures and
dwelling like civilized beings instead of remaining in the
wilderness minus com forts and
neighbors. To the m such a life was
intolerable, and the y plotted to
help the mselves to what the y needed. But by som e
means or anothe r old Billy the pirate got wind of the ir
plans, and cursing the m with all the fervency and fluency of his piratical days, he
drove his family away, swearing never to see or to speak to one of the m as long as he lived a vow which he kept to the day of his death. But his anathe ma did not include a favorite nephew. To him Rogers om ised a large share of his treasure when he died,
and to make certain that the youth would
get it, the old man showed his
nephew where he had concealed one of his hoards. Moreover, after Billy Bowlegs'
death (in 1888 at the ripe old age
of 95) the favored nephew secured the treasure and lived com fortably
for the rest of his life on his
pirate-uncle's legacy, which fact proves beyond question that Billy Bowlegs' treasures
were no imaginary or fictional hoards.
Aside from
his nephew, the old pirate chieftain
had anothe r and even more intimate
friend, a man whom he had met while
killing cattle in 1878 and who was his constant com panion
during the last twelve years of his
life. Sullen, secretive, avoiding his fellow men, yet the
hoary old scoundrel took this man into his confidence and to him related the story of his past and even discussed plans for
salvaging the schooner and digging
up his buried treasures. Death, however, put an abrupt end to Billy's schemes,
and his friend, thinking the old man
had been rom ancing or was a bit
"off," and also being without funds or means to make an investigation
or search, never attempted to recover any of the
sunken or buried treasures. The man, however, is still living and so, also, is
a grandson of Billy Bowlegs, and through the m
the story came to the ears of rom antically-inclined
treasure hunters who, a short time ago, set out on an expedition to locate and
recover the old pirate's cached
riches and to salvage the
treasure-laden schooner.
Just why the
old pirate never made any use of the
fortune he had won by fire and sword and at cost of countless lives, is a
puzzle. But he was a miserly rascal, acquisitiveness had becom e a mania with him, and, moreover, he had no use
for wealth, being a rough old scoundrel content to live in semi-savage style in
the jungle. At all events, he
certainly never dug up the bulk of
his treasure, although from time to
time he would visit the spots where
he had cached it, in order to satisfy himself that the
hoards had not been molested and that the
landmarks were still in evidence. Unquestionably, as the
years passed and gales and storms altered the
sandy shores where the old pirate
had secreted his riches, the
landmarks changed and such changes were duly noted by Billy who, familiar with the exact locations of his caches, was not misled by
drifting sands, by growing brush or by vanishing trees. And as he had no
intention of digging up the
treasures himself he doubtless chuckled as he noticed how Nature was aiding him
in protecting the gold-filled casks
and chests from othe rs' hands. No doubt, he thought, even his most
intimate friend in whom he had
confided could never locate the
caches owing to the changes that had
taken place. And in this surmise he was right, for when, a year or so ago, the white-bearded old fellow, who alone of all the world held the
secret of Billy Bowlegs' treasure-trove, led an expedition to the spot he found himself totally at a loss to
identify a single landmark old Rogers had described. Trees, marks—everything had
vanished, and over the spot where,
so he declared, the treasures must
have been buried, many feet of sand had been piled and drifted by the winds of nearly a century.
Hand digging would be hopeless; but the treasure hunters had faith in the old man's tale. Billy Bowlegs' grandson bore him
out, the old records substantiated the story, and convinced that the
pirate's vast treasure lay under its covering of sand the y
prepared to return with a steam shovel.
Provided with the
means of handling tons of sand, the treasure
hunters proceeded to dig where the
old com rade of the pirate and the
latter's grandson declared the
treasures had been buried. Hopes ran high as the
great steel bucket bit into the
sand, and lifting high dumped its load far to one side. Ton after ton was
removed, and when, buried beneath the
accumulated sand, the dead trunk of a
peculiarly gnarled and twisted oak tree was disclosed, every one felt that
Billy Bowings' treasure was as good as found, for one of the
markers mentioned particularly by the
pirate was a gnarled and twisted oak tree, the
only tree of its kind in the
vicinity. Here was proof that the y were
at the right spot. At any instant the big shovel might reveal a chest of golden coins
or a store of bullion. With a rattle and roar the
great steel bucket dropped; like som e
ravenous beast it bit savagely into the
sand, and snorting rose with its load. Wild with excitement the treasure hunters crowded about. Exposed by the last scoopful of sand removed, were the ends of old planks forming a rectangle, one of the old pirate's caches, exactly as he had described
the m to his friend. Seizing shovels the men hurled aside the
mass of sand that filled the boarded
space, certain that at last the ir
efforts had been rewarded, that Billy Bowlegs' treasure was the irs. But an instant later the ir
hopes were shattered. The cache was empty!
But only for a mom ent
were the y disheartened. Billy Bowlegs'
nephew, the y remembered, had secured
som e of his uncle's treasure. And no
doubt this empty cache was one from
which he had taken the contents
years before.
So once again the
steam shovel puffed and snorted and performed the
work of fifty men, and as the sand
was removed, anothe r and anothe r cache was uncovered. But, like the first, all had been rifled. At last the treasure seekers gave up in despair. They had
found Billy Bowlegs' secret hiding place, but som e
one had been the re before the m. Whethe r
the y had had the
ill luck to stumble on the hoards
that the nephew had taken, or whethe r som e
one else had discovered the hidden
treasures and had made away with the m,
no one could say. Still only one of the
pirate's caches had been found and the
old rascal had concealed his loot in three places. But the
funds of the expedition were
exhausted. They could not search farthe r,
and the ir treasure hunt came to an
end. But the y have not abandoned all
hope of recovering Billy Bowlegs' treasure. By means of delicate detectors the y hope to locate the
stores of hidden gold and silver, and are even now planning to return to the spots where the
last of the Gulf pirates hid his
blood-stained riches.
Neithe r
has any one found the rotting
timbers of Billy Bowlegs' sunken ship with her precious cargo, yet beyond a
doubt it still rests among the weeds
and water plants on the bottom of the
bay where the pirates scuttled her
so many years ago.
Link to Part 2 -chapters 3 and 4 - http://stillwoods.blogspot.ca/2013/11/they-found-gold-ch-3-and-4.html
Link to Part 2 -chapters 3 and 4 - http://stillwoods.blogspot.ca/2013/11/they-found-gold-ch-3-and-4.html
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