Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) (8 page)

His soft, grey eyes were fixed on the watery
depths and he did not notice the way Emma winced at Louise’s ebullient
rejoicing, nor the glance of admiration and appreciation she reserved for him.

The four of them went to their bedrooms in the lighthouse to
get changed – they had got dusty and mucky that day, clambering into cellars,
outbuildings, tunnels, caves and crevices. Not a bad achievement considering
the weather had been too bad to allow them off their tiny island.

As the girls applied make-up and dug out
reasonably smart clothing to wear, in the bedroom the other side of the staircase,
John and Dan were sprawled out on their mattresses.

‘Oh mate, what a day, what a blooming day.
If I had read an account of what we have done in one of your many books I
wouldn’t have believed it,’ declared John with a shake of his head. ‘You are
one amazing swot to be able to translate that stuff in the first place. I would
have fallen at the first hurdle.’

‘Not really,’ replied Dan, modestly. ‘If it
had been in French, any of us could have done it. You ought to pick up some
Spanish, you know, you’re a natural at French, you wouldn’t find it much of a
leap. It was lucky I had my Spanish dictionary with me, otherwise I would have
struggled.’

‘It goes to show,’ laughed John, ‘you should
always make sure you take your Spanish-English dictionary on holiday, whether
it’s to Tenerife or Magaluf or even, a lighthouse off the coast of Cornwall.’

Dan smiled. John was good at silly dialogues
like this. He was much better at the banter than himself and although he couldn’t
usually respond in kind, he did find it funny. ‘I don’t want to be ungrateful
on a day like today,’ replied Dan, ‘but do you know what would make my cup
runneth over, only it’s never going to happen?’

‘Let me guess,’ said John. ‘If you could get
it together with Emma. That is somewhat ungrateful you know, on a day when
we’ve had such marvellous good luck. I think that would be enough for most
people. Anyway, I’m kind of keen on Louise but she just sees me as someone to
flirt with on holiday. It’s very platonic. I think it’s partly ’cos I always
come across as superficial and people don’t realise I do have a deeper side as
well.’

‘Let Louise see that side to you,’ replied
Dan, looking thoughtfully at John. ‘If all people see of you is your cheeky
chappy, jokey persona, they won’t get to know the full you.’

‘Very true. On the other hand, compared to
you I am a total clown! And hey, who could feel miserable about their love life
within minutes of finding a stash of buried treasure. It’s like a big gold and
silver lining to our failure with women, don’t you think?’

Dan smiled again as he put a brush through
his thick hair. John would have shrugged and looked on the bright side if
they’d come back with nothing more than an old farthing. Despite being quite
different people, they were good friends whose personalities complemented each
other. Dan was a calming, sensible influence on John while the latter’s chat
and good cheer cut through Dan’s intensity and introspection.

‘Right,’ said John. ‘Let’s give the girls a
call and get moving. I want to sink some ice cold continental beer tonight –
out of a tankard while I count my pieces of gold and silver like the smugglers
and wreckers of old. Ah ha!’

Dan dryly pointed out that such characters
would more likely have drunk a warm ration of English ale or porter than cold
imported lager.

The sea retained a pond-like calm when the
students set out in Louise’s motorboat bound for the shore. It was a lovely summer’s
evening, with the jagged rays of the sinking sun flickering across the water.

‘Look at that sun,’ said Emma, ‘like a great
golden coin disappearing from sight.’

For a second it made her shiver. ‘Do you
suppose our treasure is safe where we left it?’

The others chuckled. ‘It’s been lying there
undisturbed since 1780,’ pointed out Dan, ‘it couldn’t be in a safer place.’

Louise moored the boat alongside the jetty
in the harbour and they clambered out, mindful of the need to go shopping
before anything else.

‘There’s a hardware store along the lane off
the high street,’ said Louise. ‘We’ll get good torches and batteries there.
Let’s make sure we don’t talk about what we want them for, ok? I know the
shopkeeper in there and he’s a nice chap but loves to know everyone’s
business.’

‘Now what you be wanting these powerful
torches for missy, I can’t help wondering?’ said Will the shopkeeper as they
trooped to his till with one apiece and plenty of batteries. ‘Going potholing
or exploring them old smugglers’ caves, I’ll be bound.’

‘If we told you that, Will, we’d have to
shoot you,’ replied Louise with a grin. ‘Hey, talking of which, I don’t suppose
you know of any tunnels from the shore heading under the sea bed into the bay?’

The others glanced at Louise, surprised at
her indiscretion. What about her own warning not to blurt out their business to
this chap?

The shopkeeper returned her smile, but advised,
‘you won’t find anything I’m afraid, these tunnels have been gone over with a
fine toothcomb long ago! Most if not all have been closed. There’s one I know
of running under the sea but that was shut off long ago. No folk can go down it
now.’

They picked up some more bread and milk
while they were out and returned to the boat, bobbing by the jetty, and pushed
everything carefully into the luggage hold.

‘Right all,’ said Louise, glancing at her
watch. ‘It’s 5.30pm, why don’t we have a stroll around then find somewhere nice
for a few drinks and a meal? Unless you’ve got any better ideas, I thought it
would be fun to go to the old smugglers’ inn up the hill here, which was a
favourite haunt of smugglers and wreckers in the old days. It’s still a pub to
this day and when you go inside you feel yourself going back in time.’

‘Do they do ice-cold continental lager?’
asked John.

‘Yes and plenty more besides, and they serve
some pretty good food for a pub,’ said Louise. ‘It’s not cordon bleu or
anything, but decent pub grub, like fish and chips, pies, casseroles, scampi, that
sort of thing.’

That sounded perfect and after a relaxing walk
around Porthlevnack, they headed towards the aptly-named Smugglers Tavern. It
was a good place to finish off such an interesting and exciting day, especially
having been cut off by the storm.

As they walked through the heavy door into
the lounge, John, Dan and Emma looked around approvingly. This was how a pub
should be: dark beams, an oak-panelled bar, brass fittings and frosted glass
panes. Watercolour paintings of nearby coves and beaches hung on whitewashed
walls radiating a mystical, mysterious quality in the subdued light.

Dan and Emma in particular loved pubs like
this – both glanced in delight at the eccentric nooks set into the walls; the
quaint shelves lined with antique books; the lanterns and rough-hewn lead pewter
tankards hanging off hooks. Emma could easily imagine a smuggler sitting here,
supping ale under a flickering candle.

‘What a mysterious place, full of distant
memories,’ she gasped, her eyes lighting up. She noticed Dan looking around
with the same wonder and for a moment their eyes met and they held that gaze,
as if its magic was transmitted between them.

‘I’ll get some drinks in,’ said John,
thirsting for his ice-cold continental lager. He wasn’t disappointed either, there
was some excellent Bavarian pilsner on tap. His fellow treasure hunters opted
for the same, save for Dan who was rarely prised from his old favourite –
Guinness.

‘Why don’t we grab that nice window seat
over there,’ suggested Dan.

As they had got there early, there was
plenty of space. The others nodded and Dan sat at one of the matching oak
armchairs in the far corner. Emma slid into the ornately carved oak pew
opposite.

John reappeared with a tray of four very
drinkable-looking pints and set them down on the table.

‘Cheers!’ he said, raising his glass,
‘here’s to an amazing day, and maybe an amazing future for us all!’

‘Do you think so?’ asked Louise. ‘Does that
treasure truly belong to us? I suppose it should if it is deemed to be Treasure
Trove. I had a friend who found a few trinkets once that were declared treasure
and she got paid thousands for them.’

The prospect of having suddenly come into
fabulous wealth was still only beginning to sink in with the four students, who
were much more used to being poor and barely able to scrape by.

‘I would guess it may belong in part at
least to your parents if they are deemed to own that tunnel, and in part to us
four as finders,’ said John. ‘After all, the lighthouse and island belong to
your parents and that tunnel leads directly there. Also, the diary of the
Spanish captain has been kept in the cellar. Therefore, to my way of thinking, anything
found in an underground cave only accessible from your lighthouse would mean
your family have a strong claim on it.’

‘Come on, ‘ chipped in Emma, taking a gulp
of her pint – she didn’t normally drink pints, but that night was a special
occasion – surely Dan deserves the biggest cut since without his efforts at
translating the diary, the treasure would never have come to light.’

‘I would gladly share my cut with you Emma,’
said Dan, ‘of all of us, you are the most broke and need the extra cash the
most.’

At that point Emma, her eyes moist, slipped
her hand under the table and gave Dan’s knee a squeeze.

‘I feel that you have the most claim out of
the four of us,’ said John to Louise, ‘since we are your guests and would never
have come to stay on Wreckers Island without your invitation.

‘The important principle,’ said Louise, her
voice rising, ‘is that the treasure belongs to us all. It’s certainly no
further use to the poor Spanish sailors who drowned in 1780 is it? And Captain
Felipe isn’t exactly going to be coming back for it. We are the only people to
lay any claim on it. I think it’s great that we’re all arguing that each other
deserves the biggest cut rather than trying to grab what we can for ourselves.
It shows we’re good people. If my parents get a slice of it too, lucky them –
although they are super rich already so I’m not sure they’ll need it. As for
us, we are friends together; we’re on holiday together and we explored the
tunnel together. I want us to share the proceeds equally.’

That was generous of Louise, since she could
have pulled rank as the host and the others warmed to her for it. Louise could
be many things, impetuous, arrogant, a show-off, a flirt, a chatterbox, but she
was a feisty, good-hearted young woman whose spirit matched those determined green
eyes beneath that shock of a fringe.

‘Bear in mind,’ said Dan quietly, noticing
that the pub had started to fill up, ‘that the tunnel may be deemed to belong
to the Crown Estate – effectively to the Queen. If that is so, the Crown may be
entitled to a significant share of the find.

Louise looked at him in dismay, and after
taking a generous swig of her lager, declared, ‘oh that’s too much, we’re not
handing half our treasure over to the bloomin’ Queen. She’s even richer than my
mum and dad and that’s saying something! Hasn’t she got enough gold and silver
without needing to raid our tunnel!’

‘That’s not how it works,’ hissed Dan,
annoyed at Louise’s belligerence. ‘Centuries-old finds of gold and silver are
deemed to be treasure and have to go before an inquest held by a coroner. He
will almost certainly rule that we have to hand it over but that’s good news
because the full market value will be paid and we’ll get whatever we’re entitled
to – but the Crown may get 50% if deemed to own the tunnel.

‘We should bear in mind that the gold and
silver is so valuable, especially with the soaring price of precious metals
these days, if we each get a quarter share of half of it, that will still be
equivalent to tens of thousands of pounds each, possibly £100,000 or more.’

‘Yippee,’ shouted Louise. ‘We’re rich!’

‘I still can’t believe it somehow,’ said
Emma, ‘it seems unreal to me.’

‘It’s real,’ said Dan, putting his hand into
his jacket pocket. He brought out a gold and silver coin from their find
earlier which he hadn’t been able to resist taking, and placed them on the
table. They gleamed mysteriously in the soft light.

Louise grabbed the coins and held them
aloft. ‘Treasure! Real treasure, from 1780 me hearties! Look at these wonderful
coins. You know, I can’t wait to get back tomorrow to haul up the rest.’

Several people took up Louise’s offer to
look at the coins. They were attracting glances from all directions. Fuelled by
adrenaline and strong lager, Louise was becoming over-exuberant and indiscreet.
At that moment, the barmaid came to take their food order.

‘Goodness me,’ she said. ‘Aren’t they pretty
looking coins? Wherever did you get those from? I take it you’ll not be paying
for your food with them. Why they look like they might be from one of the old
treasure ships!’

‘No, they’re lucky coins I was given by an
uncle on my 18th birthday,’ said Dan, lying swiftly and seizing them off Louise.
He pushed them securely back into his pocket and glared at her. She was being
foolish and making a scene. Dan noticed a number of the regulars looked as
though, in a different era, they might well have been smugglers and wreckers
themselves. He hoped the four of them would pass as little more than loud,
brash, annoying tourists.

‘Can you have a quiet word with her,’
whispered Dan to Emma. ‘Tell her to calm it down.’

Louise wasn’t in the mood to listen. Her
pint drunk, she got up to get another round of drinks. John went with her,
fearing she might struggle to keep four brimming glasses upright on the tray.

‘You know I’m fond of Louise but I could
swing for her sometimes,’ said Emma to Dan when the others were out of earshot.
‘What a performance she’s putting on tonight. I know we’re all thrilled to
bits, but we are actually in an old smugglers’ and wreckers’ pub. Memories go
back a long way.’