Mango Lucky (11 page)

After breakfast, I checked Bob's food and water and made sure he was set for the day. He had decided to sleep in. Under the covers in my bed.

Up front, Anna was ready to go.

I made a final trip around the motorhome, making sure everything was locked up and that we had all the gear we needed.

The sun was just starting to peek over the clouds to the east when Anna and I loaded into the Land Cruiser and pulled out of the campsite.

When we reached A1A, we could see that most of the debris had been washed or blown off the road. It was easy going.

Anna drove south for about two miles, then slowed as we reached the general area where we had pulled the car out of the sand the day before.

The water from the Indian River had receded and things looked different today than they did yesterday.

She turned to me and said, "I'm not sure. Tell me when you think we're there."

Scanning the left shoulder of the road, I looked for the ruts in the sand that would have been left from yesterday's rescue.

Finally seeing them, I pointed and said, "Stop. This is the spot."

Anna nodded, "Good eye. This is it."

Looking around, she said, "We don't want to park here. Other treasure hunters will see our car, and they may decide to join us.

"It'd be better if we park about a half mile down the road, behind the McLarty museum. It's got a paved lot, hidden from the main road. We can walk back up here from there."

I nodded, then said, "Maybe I should get out here, go on over the dune and wait for you. That way, we'll have the exact spot pin-pointed."

Anna agreed, "Good idea. You get out and go over the dune. I'll park, and walk back up to you.

"And Walker, don't find all the gold before I get there. Leave some for me."

I got out and grabbed my detector and scoop from the back. After I closed the door, Anna drove south toward the museum. Crossing the road, I followed the same trail up the dune I had followed the day before.

From the top of the dune I could see Anna had been right about the effect of the high tides on the beach.

Instead of the easy sloping sand dune that had been there the day before, the ocean side of the dune now dropped straight down about twelve feet to the beach.

The erosion had washed away much of the sand from the cliff face, exposing roots of trees long gone. These roots would be useful handholds as I worked my way down the sandy cliff face to the beach below.

With my detector and scoop slung over my shoulder, I climbed down the cliff face, marveling at how the storm had turned the soft dune into a sheer sandy cliff.

Upon reaching the beach, I could see that most of the soft white sand that had been there just two days before had been washed away. The beach surface now was a dark sandy field, strewn with rocks and bits of shells.

It was as if someone had used a road grader to scrape away the top layer of the beach. All the recent sand renourishment was for naught. The new sand, along with most of the old, was gone.

While waiting for Anna to make her way up the beach, I looked for any signs that would help me find the spot where the man had been digging the day before.

But I had no luck. The massive amount of erosion from the storm had removed too much sand. Any holes that he may have dug were long gone.

From behind I heard Anna say, "You didn't have to wait. You could have started detecting without me."

I shook my head. "No, you're the expert. Wanted to wait and hear your plan."

Anna pointed at the wall of sand that I had just climbed down, "Those roots and shells in the cliff are a good sign. It means the beach surface might be back to the level it was hundreds of years ago.

"There won't be bottle caps or pull tabs in this layer. Anything you find is going to be pretty old."

She looked up and down the beach, then said, "We should start at the base of the cliff and work parallel to the beach. We can do a hundred yard grid.

"You go north, I'll go south. After a hundred yards, move over six feet, turn around and come back here.

"We'll do that until we cover the whole beach.

"Before you start, turn off the iron discrimination on your detector. And dig every tone you get. No matter what you find, recover the target and put it in your pouch. And then refill the hole."

I nodded.

She smiled, "Good luck." Then she picked up her detector and scoop, turned and began her first hundred yard path to the south.

I turned north, and did the same.

Thirty yards in, I got my first hit.

38

I had been following the grid line Anna set out, swinging the detector slowly, trying to keep the coil an even distance from the surface.

Listening through the bulky headphones, I strained to hear the tell-tell tone that would indicate treasure.

For the first twenty yards, nothing. Not a single peep from the detector.

I was starting to think that either the detector wasn't working properly, or somehow I had fouled up the settings.

Just about the time I was going to go back to Anna and have her check the detector, the headphones chirped a loud tone. I had finally found something.

The readout on the detector's LCD display indicated an iron target about twelve inches below the surface.

I grabbed my scoop and removed six inches of sand above the spot indicated by the detector. Then I carefully sifted through the sand, looking for any signs of a metallic object.

Nothing.

I swung the detector back over the same spot, and got the tone again. The target was still buried under the surface.

I removed another six inches of sand. And this time, I could see a dark brown object at the bottom of the hole I'd dug.

Carefully positioning the scoop under the target, I was able to retrieve it in one piece.

Dumping the contents of the scoop onto the beach, I examined the item. It was about six inches long, heavily encrusted, looking like an iron railroad spike.

It wasn't gold or silver. But definitely was old, and perhaps even from the Spanish fleet.

My spirits buoyed by the discovery, I put the spike in my finds bag, filled the hole, and continued along the grid Anna had laid out for me.

Over the course of the next hour, I found several small objects, mostly iron flakes about the size of a potato chip. I also found a few heavily encrusted square headed nails.

As I reached the end of each hundred yard path, I'd turn around, move six feet closer to the waves, and head back in the direction I had just come.

This meant half of the time I could see Anna in the distance, and the other half I was facing away from her.

During the times I could see her, I watched as she swung her detector. Her motions were fluid, even graceful, much different than my own jerky, erratic swings.

Every few feet she would stop, swing the detector over a small area, then use her scoop to recover an item from the sand.

Based on the number of items she was retrieving, it looked like she was having a lot better luck than I was.

Other than the iron spike, I hadn't found anything of much interest. And my right elbow was starting to get sore from constantly swinging the detector.

At the end of one of my Anna facing grids, I turned back to the north and could see that the incoming tide was reducing the amount of remaining beach I needed to cover.

This made me happy. It meant we'd soon be taking a break as we repositioned for our next grid.

As I slowly detected up a grid line, I felt someone nudge me from behind. Thinking it was Anna, I turned with a smile, hoping she was announcing we were going to take a break.

But it wasn't Anna. It was something else. Something totally unexpected.

39

Anna was still far in the distance, walking a grid line away from me.

And in front of me sat a dog.

A big black Labrador Retriever.

He had come up and nudged me from behind, then he stood still, wagging his tail, waiting for me to pet him.

The strangest part was I had seen the dog before.

It was Jake. The black lab from the car we had rescued during the storm.

And if Jake was here, his owner should be close by.

I scanned up and down the beach, but the only other person I could see was Anna. She was about a hundred yards south, detecting a grid line away from me.

I turned back to Jake, rubbed his head, and said, "You lost?"

He backed up a few feet, then dipped down on his front legs and barked at me. Like he wanted to play.

That was fine with me since I needed a break from swinging the detector.

I found a piece of driftwood and tossed it over his head. As it sailed over, he sat motionless, staring at me.

Apparently he didn't want to play stick. He wanted to play something else.

Jake got down on his front legs with his rear end up in the air, his tail wagging wildly. He barked at me, then jumped up and ran twenty feet down the beach and sat.

I said, "Sorry, Jake. I don't know that game." I picked up my detector, and started back on my grid line.

Jake didn't like this. He got up and ran back to me and barked. He wanted my attention.

"What is Jake? Has Timmy fallen in the well?"

Jake looked at me, cocking his head to the side, as if he were trying to figure out what I had said.

Then he barked, turned and ran to the same spot he had before. But this time, instead of sitting, he used his front paws to dig a small hole.

He barked at me again, and I swear he nodded at the hole.

"Okay, I get it. You want me to dig in the hole."

I walked to the spot where Jake was sitting, and ran my detector across the hole he had dug. Nothing. Not even a peep.

"Sorry, Jake. There's nothing there, buddy."

Turning around, I headed back to my grid line.

But Jake wasn't going to let me off that easy. He jumped up and barked at me again.

I turned and could see he was digging furiously in the hole. Then he stopped and sat. Waiting for my return.

"Okay, Jake. I'll give it another shot."

I walked back and swung the detector coil over the deeper hole that Jake had dug. And this time, I got a beep.

There was something metal in the hole.

I scooped out the first six inches of sand, and swung the detector over the hole again. A louder beep this time.

Definitely something down there.

Using the scoop, I dug down another twelve inches. Then swung the detector over the hole, and it beeped louder.

The readout on the detector's LCD display showed the target had the potential of being silver, and was at least twelve inches below the detector coil.

The hole was now twenty inches deep, and the wet sand on the sides was starting to cave in. To get to the buried item, I'd have to widen the hole, then dig deeper.

I unhooked my detector and laid it on the sand. Using my sand scoop like a shovel, I started enlarging the hole. I continued until the pit was about three feet across and two feet deep.

I picked up the detector and swung it in the bottom of the pit. This time it beeped much louder.

Jake barked again. I was getting closer.

40

"Well Jake, I don't know how you did it, but it looks like you may have found treasure."

Jake looked up at me and started wagging his tail. I stepped over and patted him on the head.

"You're a good dog, Jake."

He leaned into my hand and had what looked like a smile on his face. If you've had a dog, you've probably seen that look.

"Jake, where's your owner? He's probably looking for you."

Once again, Jake cocked his head as if he were trying to understand what I was saying.

Then Jake's ears came to attention, like he was hearing something in the distance. He swiveled his head and apparently seeing the source of the sound, he took off like a shot, kicking up sand as he ran north.

Watching Jake, I could see he was heading toward someone up the beach. About two hundred yards away, a man with a metal detector had stepped out of the dunes.

I couldn't be sure, but from this distance the man looked like he might have been the same one we had rescued the day before.

When Jake reached the man, he stopped and sat. The man gave Jake a pat on the head, then looked at me, waved, and gave me a thumbs-up signal.