Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) (5 page)

‘For fear that the local people would
seize them, I resolved to hide my goods as best I could. I found a passageway
seemingly leading beneath the sea bed and hauled what I could carry down there
until I came upon two great caves, the one furthest off was possessed of a
natural rock shelf near its roof and there I deposited the gold bullion and
that which was of most value. The remaining items I placed in the other cave,
nearer to the shore, in the hope that anyone finding them would have no
cognizance that the valuable treasure lay beyond.

‘My mission to protect what I can is
complete, and I will now return to the shore and await my fate at the hands of
the local habitants. I can but pray to Almighty God that they will show mercy. Signed
this day, October 25, in the year of our Lord, 1780.

Felipe Sanchez Vargas

Captain

Providencia

Dan stared at the translated entry in
disbelief. He read it then re-read it. It was hard to take in. How utterly
astonishing. That was the final entry and it looked as if the captain knew that
it would probably be. What then had become of Captain Felipe Sanchez Vargas? Had
the local people, possibly the ancestors of the villagers they strolled past
only yesterday, shown him mercy as he had hoped?

Dan pondered his fate and that of his salvaged
treasure. There could be little doubt that much of it lay scattered across the ocean
floor. Clearly Felipe had been able to save some of it, prior to the inevitable
arrival of the opportunistic hordes of locals, no doubt rubbing their coarse
hands with glee at having another lucrative washed-up cargo to pick over.

Almost certainly, the hidden treasure had
been spirited away long ago, possibly by Felipe himself, since he clearly planned
to return for it. Had he been unable to, then the locals would have discovered
it. These days, no doubt, that tunnel under the sea bed would undoubtedly have
been blocked up, probably many years ago.

Dan took another slurp of his coffee – it
had gone cold. He glanced at his watch. He had been up in the lamp room for 45
minutes. It was time to report back to the others. Dan went over to the window
facing the shore and looked down at the rocks below. The storm still raged and
huge foaming grey breakers pounded furiously against the island, as if willing
it to sink. What must it have been like on board the Providencia? Where was
Providence then, when those poor sailors needed divine intervention?

Right at that moment, in Dan’s mind, it was
1780 once again, and the screeching of gulls sounded to him like the anguished
cries of drowning men.

A hand rubbed his shoulder. He span round in
fright. It was Emma.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump,’
she said, looking concerned. ‘I thought you could do with another coffee. I’ve
put it down for you on the table.’

‘I was miles away,’ replied Dan, ‘thinking
about that poor ship which went down and the men who must have drowned on her.’

‘Which ship?’ asked Emma.

‘The Providencia. Sorry, I’m not making
myself clear,’ mumbled Dan. ‘The old diary – it was written by the ship’s
captain. I’ve managed to read a few bits and translate the last entry. It looks
like nearly all on board perished. The captain, Felipe Sanchez Vargas, survived
the initial sinking but heaven only knows what happened to him. It’s an
absorbing read, but sad too.’

‘You’re a sensitive thing aren’t you?’ said
Emma, rubbing his shoulder. ‘I like that in you, that you can care about what
happened to those sailors even though it was so long ago.’

‘It doesn’t make it any less tragic, does
it?’ pointed out Dan. ‘Somehow it brings it home to you when you read something
like this written by the captain of the doomed ship in his own handwriting and
his own language. It’s no longer history but real.’

Emma nodded and spotted what looked like
tears in his eyes and a quavering note in his throat. She gave him a hug and
said, spontaneously, ‘I do like you, you know, and I’m glad you like me, it was
good that you told me last night.’

Dan did not reply straightaway, his mind was
still trying to shift gear from the 1700s back to the 21st century. ‘But you
don’t like me – that way – do you? You can’t because . . . we both know why,’
he replied slowly, in a soft monotone. ‘I mean, look at me, I’m the puny
classroom nerd compared to a hunk like John.’

Emma hesitated and her pallid cheeks
coloured slightly. ‘You are a good looking chap too, you know, in a more subtle
way. Anyway, it’s not just about looks but personality and you have a lovely
personality. Many girls would die to be on your arm.’

‘You’re not one of them,’ he replied,
ruefully.

‘Listen, we can’t always have what we want
in life. I fancy John but he’s got no interest in me and you fancy me and I . .
.’ She paused and her voice trailed away.

‘Don’t worry, I think I can guess how that
sentence was due to end,’ said Dan. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m glad to count you
as a good friend and that means a lot to me.’

‘And to me too,’ said Emma and the look in
her eyes lifted Dan’s heart.

‘Emma, can I ask you something? You know you
said, last night, that if I had asked you out in the past you might have gone
on a date with me, is there any chance you might still? I know that your
thoughts are elsewhere but would you consider a date with me?’

‘We’ll see, ok? It’s not something I want to
consider while we are together on holiday especially with my head all over the
place. You’re charming and kind and sensitive and – like me – vulnerable and
insecure at times. I sometimes feel like putting my arms round you and protecting
you. I don’t know whether I see you as anything more than that.’

‘Emma,’ said Dan, interrupting, ‘I don’t want
you to be my mum, or to bandage my finger when I cut it. I want you as a woman,
as a lover.’

‘You want to go to bed with me, is that what
you are saying?’ replied Emma, curtly.

‘I want you in so many ways. I want you by
my side, I’d love to take you out for romantic meals and that sort of thing. Romantic
walks down country lanes, anything, everything that couples do together. I know
that sounds trite to but that’s how I feel.’

‘That’s nice Dan, honestly it is,’ said
Emma, reddening slightly at his effusiveness. ‘Let’s see how things unfold, ok.
I know you like me now, and I know that I like the fact that you like me, if
that makes sense. That’s all I can say for now.’

Dan opened his mouth to reply when he heard
voices and footsteps coming up the staircase.

‘We couldn’t stand the suspense any longer,’
said John, smiling. ‘Dan, have you managed to get anywhere with that old diary?
Please tell me it recounts the tale of some creaking old Spanish galleon laden
with gold and silver that got wrecked off the Cornish coast, and that it holds
the key to where the treasure remains hidden to this day. Because it is written
in a foreign language, its secret has never been discovered.’

‘You know John, sometimes I think you must
have psychic powers,’ replied Dan, startled.

John looked at him in surprise. He had been
joking of course.

‘Everyone sit down and I’ll talk you through
what I’ve learnt,’ said Dan. ‘I haven’t been able to translate much of it, of course,
because it’s far too long and it is such a slow process but I’ve got the
crucial last couple of entries.’

The others looked at Dan expectantly.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘that was actually quite a
good guess by John, although I’m sure any treasure is long gone. This diary was
from a Spanish vessel, I don’t know whether one would call it a galleon, but it
would have been quite a large and important ship and it was in these waters in
1780. The diary was written by the ship’s captain and traces the voyage from
San Sebastian, a port on the northern coast of Spain, up the Bay of Biscay, and
round the Cornish coast.

‘It looks to me like the Providencia – that
was the name of the ship – might have been heading for the English Channel
perhaps or one of the ports along the south coast. Anyway, a storm blew up and
she got into difficulties close to here, I would guess on the rocks we can see
from where we are.

‘She foundered with the loss of nearly
everyone on board. The captain, however, survived and continued to write diary
entries after the ship went down. He recalls how he attempted to salvage what
he could before the locals got to plunder the wreck. It would appear that the Providencia
was laden with numerous valuable items including several tons of gold bullion and
gold and silver coins.

‘Now I would guess from what I read that
much of it ended up in Davy Jones’s locker but the captain did manage to rescue
some of it, including a chest of gold bullion. He found and scooped up many
dozens of gold and silver coins and placed them into the chest. He came upon an
old tunnel leading beneath the sea bed along which he hauled the chest and
other belongings. The captain encountered two caves, one of which had a kind of
semi-hidden recess containing a natural shelf and this was where he hid the
most valuable belongings, including the salvaged treasure.

‘Obviously it has no doubt long since been plundered
along with everything else and in any case, I would guess that the tunnel has
been blocked up like the others.’

The others listened open-mouthed.

‘I know I said it as a daft joke,’ said
John, ‘but is there any chance that this cargo was never found and that its
secret lay undiscovered because the only clue to its whereabouts was this old Spanish
notebook and no-one has ever translated it – until we came along?’

‘Who knows?’ said Dan. ‘I would say it is
certainly possible that no-one has bothered to try to decipher this notebook
and if they did, the chances are they would have started at the beginning, made
some headway and never got any further. I only found out what I did by turning
to the end. Certainly, stranger things have happened. The diary might well have
been scooped up with other miscellaneous possessions and ended up gathering
dust in the lighthouse cellar, to be completely forgotten about.

‘That doesn’t alter the fact that countless
years and decades have passed when anyone could have wandered along that tunnel
and come across it – in which case, they would have had no need to translate
the diary.’

‘We shouldn’t get too carried away, I
suppose,’ said John, thoughtfully. ‘After all, as you say, the discovery of
that treasure only required a simple exploration of the tunnels and the caves
they led to, albeit the Spanish captain appears to have found a good natural
hiding place.’

‘Yes and you’re also assuming that the
captain himself didn’t come back for it, presumably that was his intention,’
pointed out Emma.

‘Who knows what happened to him,’ said Dan,
rubbing his chin. ‘I wouldn’t necessarily fancy his chances as a Spaniard and Catholic
at the mercy of local Protestant people in this sort of locality in the 1780s.
Most likely he and any other survivor would have been taken prisoner – or
suffered a worse fate. Felipe certainly didn’t carry on his diary, did he?
Perhaps this and other possessions were seized from him and have stayed in the
local area ever since.’

‘So where do we go from here?’ asked Emma.
‘Is there any chance we could try to find that passageway?’

Louise, who knew the area far better than
the others, was sceptical. ‘We could try,’ she said, ‘but the difficulty would
be working out exactly which passageway he meant. Even if we do discover it, my
guess is that it will have been well and truly blocked up. To my knowledge the
network of tunnels to and from Gunwalloe Cove were closed off many decades ago.
In any case, there’s not much hope of us getting ashore today, I’m afraid.’

Louise was right. A magnificent storm
continued to rage. The four looked up from the antique notebook in front of them
to gaze out at it.

‘It’s whipping into a ferocious gale now,’
said Louise. ‘It does that round here, you get the most violent weather
conditions then, suddenly, it goes calm again. Imagine being on board ship in
that!’

It didn’t bear thinking about, and needless
to say, no boats were out at sea – a clear sign that crossings were not to be
attempted.

‘It’s a shame, I am itching to get into
those coves again and see if there is any chance of finding that tunnel,’ said
John, ‘even though I know it is unlikely we will even find trace of it, let
alone be able to walk along it.’

The others agreed, it would have been fun to
try. Somehow, a day mooching around the lighthouse reading books and drinking
coffee now seemed dull by comparison.

‘Look,’ said Dan. ‘We could spend some
useful time trying to work out where that tunnel might start from, doing some
intelligent guesswork, and that would make it easier. I don’t suppose we have a
map of the coast do we, Louise, or some nautical charts for the area round
here?’

Louise thought hard. ‘We could have a good
search around,’ she said. ‘There might be something. I still haven’t fully
explored this lighthouse.’

‘Hang on,’ said Emma, suddenly. ‘What about
the architectural plans for the lighthouse that we found in that bundle of
papers in the cellar? That showed the topography of Wreckers’ Island and the
nearby coastline.’

Dan hadn’t thought of that. He had been so
engrossed in the Spanish captain’s diary he had forgotten about the drawings
and diagrams relating to the lighthouse and island itself. Certainly it was
worth a look.

He fetched the diagrams and spread them
across the table. They gathered round. A scale drawing of the island showed
what it looked like before the lighthouse was built. Another showed how it was
intended to look afterwards. On both, the rocks all around were marked and both
showed the coves along the coastline. Neither showed any detail of the caves or
indeed, any tunnels running off them.