Brian Sadler Archaeology 04 - The Bones in the Pit

by Bill Thompson

  When they finished Conti asked the Pope what charges the pontiff expected would be filed against him.

  The Pope’s expression changed to one of sadness. “You have committed grievous sins, my child. The blood of many people is on your hands. You have lied, stolen and disgraced yourself and the office with which you were entrusted. Any speculation on my part as to what charges you will face would be just that – speculation. I urge you to pray for forgiveness, Dominic. And if you are a good man somewhere in your heart, you will pray for Christianity itself. You will pray that the bones of Jesus are not in the pit.”

  The Pope had to find out what this man Brian Sadler was doing in Nova Scotia. Something must be done quickly to stop him. Finding the bones would topple the world’s largest organized religion. The pontiff firmly believed this to be true. Brian Sadler could not find the bones of Jesus. He knelt and prayed.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Oak Island

  Sending a rotary drill down the shaft of the Money Pit was easy. A few obstructions were encountered but by noon they had drilled nearly eighty feet. A core sample of the material they removed was laid out on the surface near the pit. Brian and Harold would go through it after lunch.

  Brian hoped to find something at around a hundred feet then again at the bottom of the shaft. At the higher level early boring had indicated wood, perhaps a chest, and bits of metal. At the base of the Money Pit, over 150 feet down, he hoped to find a concrete bunker of some type with the Most Holy Relics secreted inside.

  The radio in Harold Mulhaney’s pickup was on as he and Brian drove back to the cabin for a sandwich and a beer. The noon news was being broadcast from Halifax. Brian caught the end of a story and the words, “charges against the Vatican-based Cardinal include using Church funds to perpetrate a crime.”

  He turned up the radio but that segment was over. Brian grabbed his phone – on CNN’s site he read the story of the removal of Dominic Conti from his duties and the charges against him. The article stated that other charges were being considered, including a possible link to the Fifth Avenue bombing in New York City a few weeks ago.

  Over lunch Brian told Harold how Conti had been connected to the Knights Templars manuscripts and the Money Pit. He had met the cleric only a few days ago in the Vatican to take possession of the manuscript. The volume was missing thirteen coded pages – now Brian figured the Cardinal had deliberately removed them to keep them secret.

  Brian’s mind raced. “And what if Conti was behind the assault on the librarian and me in London? What if it was all about getting that copy of the Templars manuscript so we couldn’t break the code? And if that’s true, go back one more step. What if he was involved in Arthur Borland’s death?”

  The more he thought about it, the more complex this all became.

  “Hold on there a minute, son,” Harold said in his practical way. “I ain’t a churchgoing man but you’re talking about a man who’s high up in the Catholic Church. Don’t you think you’re gettin’ a little farfetched accusing him of assault and murder? He’s a preacher or something. I think you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, myself.”

  Brian had felt that way too but things were looking more and more as though the cleric was right in the big middle of all this. Why a man of the cloth, especially a man of his standing in the Church, would go to these extremes was a mystery.

  Brian amended his settings so he’d get notified if any more news became available about Dominic Conti.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Jeffrey Montfort emailed Brian the decoded sheet from Simeon Lynds’ diary. Brian sat in Harold Mulhaney’s truck and read the entire document. Not only were there detailed instructions showing exactly how to stop the seawater tunnels from flooding the Money Pit, there was a bitter explanation why Lynds himself couldn’t follow his own directions.

  The sheet revealed that Lynds was not only a member of the Knights Templars, he was their appointed leader in the early 1800s. He was a wealthy man from a nearby town who formed the Onslow Syndicate. Lynds used his influence to raise money from other men of means in order to search for the treasure in the Money Pit. He never told his partners he was privy to two Templars secrets. He knew how to stop the pit from flooding and he knew that something called the Most Holy Relics rested at the bottom. He didn’t know what the relics were – he just knew that the Order had guarded them for a thousand years.

  The oath of secrecy Lynds had taken as head of the Templars prevented him from revealing how to turn off the flooding. His partners would have asked questions he had taken a vow not to answer. Instead, according to the sheet in his diary, he planned to let the Onslow Syndicate’s money pay for the excavation of the pit. Once it flooded, as it invariably would, the group would eventually give up. Lynds would retain ownership of the site, return on his own and retrieve the treasured relics by using the secret he’d learned.

  Brian looked at an Internet site showing a timeline of the Money Pit from 1795 to the 1950s. The Onslow Syndicate did in fact disband in 1805 and Lynds remained involved with Oak Island. In fact forty years later a “Dr. Lynds,” probably a relative of Simeon’s, was a major investor in the next treasure-hunting syndicate, the Truro Company.

  The end of Simeon Lynds’ sheet revealed why he didn’t find the relics himself. He had put so much of his personal wealth into the Onslow Syndicate he couldn’t fund the next step – he ran out of money before he could implement the secret of turning off the floodwaters.

  In an unfortunate end to his chapter of the Oak Island mystery, Simeon Lynds died destitute, his dream unfulfilled.

  Two brief paragraphs at the end explained exactly how to block the floodwater tunnels. Brian got cold chills as he thought about men who had passed down these instructions from generation to generation – guidelines from the Templars engineers who built the pit in 1497, written down in code by Simeon Lynds in 1805. The directions were fairly simple; the hardest part would be finding two landmarks that were mentioned. They existed hundreds of years ago – Brian hoped they were still there today.

  At two am while Brian slept a quiet ding on his phone signaled a CNN news alert. Brian slept through it. He didn’t learn until the next morning that a crazed Dominic Cardinal Conti, muttering to himself in a Vatican holding cell, calmly removed the sash from around his clerical robe, knotted it around an overhead pipe, tested it for strength and prayed for forgiveness. Then he hanged himself.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  In 1850 members of the Truro Company syndicate discovered the reason the Money Pit flooded. In Smith’s Cove Truro workers built a rock seawall, a cofferdam, to hold back the tides. They wanted to see the floor of the cove and they found something incredible.

  Simultaneously with construction of the Money Pit someone dammed the cove, drained it and removed a portion of the bed of the cove and the beach adjoining it. In an unbelievable engineering feat a solid layer of river stones covered with coconut fibers was placed on the sea floor. Where the area was above sea level the builders put sand over the French drain they had constructed.

  Water flowed easily via gravity to the shoreline. But these early builders weren’t finished. They built two water tunnels, each five hundred feet long, connecting to the French drain at the shoreline. These two tunnels intersected the Money Pit itself at around 100 and 150 feet, respectively.

  The result of this huge project was a simple booby-trap. When anyone attempted to excavate the Money Pit, things went fine until they removed dirt and rock at the hundred-foot level. When that happened a small portion of the wall would collapse into the shaft, driven by pressure from the seawater in the flood tunnel. If they somehow beat this trap another awaited them fifty feet down.

  Since the boys had discovered the pit in 1795 none of the well-financed syndicates had managed to beat the ingenious, unbelievable obstacles created by the builders and engineers centuries earlier. Everyone wondered what group had the capability and the willingness to build this amazing storage pi
t on an uninhabited island in what is now Canada. And everyone wondered how long ago it was built.

  Simeon Lynds had known the answers to both questions. The Templars had passed it down to him. Now Brian Sadler and Harold Mulhaney knew the answers too. In May 1497 the Knights Templars built the pit to hide the Most Holy Relics. They used complex engineering techniques and created a hiding place that held its secrets to this day.

  Brian and Harold read the instructions from Simeon Lynds’ diary a half dozen times. Leaving the crew to continue excavation of the Money Pit, they walked five hundred feet to the shore of Smith’s Cove.

  In the 1800s two large triangular stones were found between the Money Pit and the shoreline. No one knew if they were part of the puzzle or if they were merely natural rocks. Too large to move and with no known purpose, they fortunately remained in place. It took an hour to locate them in the tall grass and scrub, but Harold and Brian were successful. They knew from Simeon Lynds what had to happen next. It would be easier today than in 1497 when the flood tunnels were built.

  Brian moved ten men and the bulldozer to the area where the triangular stones rested. The machine moved one of them and the workers dug underneath it. They found a narrow shaft about two feet wide, lined with timbers. Brian lowered a rope until he heard it hit water. He pulled it up – ten feet below one of the flood tunnels ran underground to the Money Pit.

  The other triangular rock yielded identical results and another flood tunnel. They now knew exactly where the tunnels were located. Brian referred to the instructions Simeon Lynds had encoded. The workers felled small trees, removed their branches and crammed them tightly into each shaft like toothpicks in a holder. When the tree trunks rested on the floor of each flood tunnel and filled the vertical shafts the men added dirt and rock. The result was a plug that should stop the flow of water from Smith’s Cove to the Money Pit. Shortly they’d find out if the Knights Templars instructions given to Simeon Lynds were true or false.

  The Money Pit itself was over twelve feet in diameter. Brian’s new plan was to remove enough fill to lower a man 150 feet into the pit to retrieve whatever was at the bottom. Up to now he hadn’t started that part of the project because he was afraid of flooding at the hundred-foot level. Now he was confident that problem had been solved. They could be mere days away from discovering what the Most Holy Relics really were.

  Chapter Sixty

  A young man in a Cooper Mini drove across the causeway from the mainland onto Oak Island. As soon as he was on the other side he encountered a burly guard with a holstered pistol and a leashed Rottweiler. The man stood in the middle of the narrow rutted road, blocking it. He held up his hand.

  “What’s your business, mister?”

  “Good morning. I’m traveling in the area. I’ve read about Oak Island and wondered if I could look around. It seems a fascinating place.”

  The man guarding the road noticed the stranger spoke English with a distinct accent. But then half of Canada did that.

  “You used to coming on people’s private property without asking?”

  The man in the Cooper responded pleasantly. “No sir, I’m not. I wasn’t aware this is private property.”

  “You didn’t happen to see the sign on the mainland, right before you drive across the causeway? It says ‘No Trespassing.’ Do you read English?” The man’s demeanor was curt and tough but the traveler in the Cooper remained upbeat.

  “I do, in fact. I saw the sign but hoped I would find someone like you with whom I could talk about seeing Oak Island.”

  “Well, we’ve had our talk. Turn your car around and get off the place.”

  The man did exactly that. He’d learned what he needed. The causeway was guarded, either by the owners of this half of the island or by Brian Sadler’s crew. It didn’t matter which.

  At the Money Pit, excavation by hand was underway in earnest. By now the pit had been cleared out so deeply that heavy equipment couldn’t be used any more. Brian’s crew chief put every man to work digging in the hole, removing bucketsful of dirt or pumping air down the shaft. By the end of the day they were down nearly a hundred feet and the shaft was twelve feet in diameter. The work stopped here because a few feet further they should come to the place where boring indicated wooden chests and metal would be found. Brian had a hunch where this stuff came from; if they found anything he’d be able to see if he was right.

  Tomorrow morning would tell the tale. Every other time in history someone had gotten to the hundred-foot level, the Money Pit had flooded. Brian hoped Simeon Lynds’ instructions worked.

  At two am a rowboat negotiated around the cofferdam Brian Sadler’s crew had built and landed on the shore of Smith’s Cove. Its occupant crept quietly toward the Money Pit, aided by a nearly full moon. He watched and listened closely for signs of a watchman.

  Close to the pit itself a guard sat in a chair next to a dying fire. He was drinking coffee from a mug and the Rottweiler that had been at the causeway that afternoon lay next to him. A shotgun was leaned against a tree close by.

  The intruder stopped as he heard the dog’s low growl. He retreated softly before the animal could announce his presence and rowed slowly back to shore. He had the information he needed. By day there was a guard at the causeway. At night the guard and the Rottweiler moved to the Money Pit.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  There was jubilation at the site the next morning. The Money Pit was as dry as it had been the afternoon before. There had been no flooding – Lynds’ directions to stop the flood tunnels had worked perfectly.

  Brian was eager to discover the secret of Oak Island. He was pleased to see that Harold Mulhaney seemed excited too, at least as animated as the stodgy farmer could be.

  Last evening at the Oak Island Inn Brian had made his nightly call to Nicole. He’d told her his hopes that the pit wouldn’t flood and she said she hoped so too. She was fully comprehending now, asking questions and offering comments. She wasn’t her old self yet, but she was a world better than she had been only a week ago when he had last seen her. After his ten-minute conversation with her Brian called Nicole’s mother in Houston. They discussed Nicole’s encouraging progress. They kept in touch every day by email and she promised to let Brian know if she learned anything new about Nicole.

  This morning the crew was anxious to get started and work progressed well. Brian estimated they had two days of digging left before reaching the 150 foot level and what they assumed would be the bottom of the Money Pit. Today the crew in the shaft dug carefully until they came to an unusual platform – this one made of spruce instead of oak like all the others. They carefully removed the old logs and saw a deteriorated wooden chest below. Its lid had disintegrated and a thick layer of dirt caked everything. As the tunnels flooded long ago, mud had flowed upward, oozing over everything it touched. Once it dried anything there became encased in hard soil.

  The workers used short picks to flake off the encrusted mud. Finally one of them gave a shout. “I’ve found gold!”

  A bucket went down the hole on a rope and everyone heard a clunk as the man deposited what he’d found in it. Back at the surface Brian reached in the bucket and brought out a bracelet. It was filthy but there was no doubt it was made of gold.

  “A hundred dollar bonus goes in everyone’s pockets tonight!” Brian yelled. The enthused workers cheered. Down in the shaft two men knelt side-by-side and continued digging with bare hands and small picks.

  “Coins! We’ve got gold coins!” The workers on the surface went wild.

  This was the most encouraging thing of all. Coins were dated and dates would help determine the earliest time the gold could have been buried.

  The workers in the pit sent up a handful of mud-encrusted coins in the bucket. Brian and Harold dipped one or two in water and rubbed off the dirt. The gold coins had Spanish writing and were dated in the 1690s.

  Although this wasn’t the prize Brian Sadler sought, this discovery was significant even if nothing e
lse was found. A horde of old Spanish coins would be worth a fortune to numismatists. More investigation would have to be done but Brian figured one of the pirate stories about Oak Island was true. His theory was that a privateer, quite possibly Blackbeard, came to Oak Island and used the Money Pit to hide his booty. Historians knew the pirate frequented this remote area in the early 1700s so the dates on the coins fit well.

  As is the case for all archaeological activity in Nova Scotia, Brian’s project had required a permit. He placed a call to the Office of Culture and Heritage Development and advised they had found treasure in the Money Pit. He was told he could continue excavating. A governmental representative would arrive tomorrow from Halifax. An official called later with instructions on where to temporarily store the items from the pit for safekeeping.

  By the end of the day the workmen had removed nearly two hundred gold coins and more than fifty pounds of various gold chains and bracelets. It was a small cache by comparison to other hordes discovered in the past, but Brian knew there were dozens of places along the remote coastline that pirates likely hid their loot. Whoever this pirate was, he hadn’t put all his eggs in one basket.

  When the workmen left the island at five, word spread quickly throughout the area that treasure had been found today. That evening Brian and Harold Mulhaney sat at the Oak Island Inn’s busy bar having a celebratory drink. A crowd of locals packed the tavern, re-telling stories of the pirates who had roamed this area. Brian and Harold were instant celebrities; as new townspeople showed up the pair was pointed out at the bar.

  The barkeep was as excited as the others about the treasure horde. He asked several questions and Brian gave him a summary of the day’s events.

  “How do you keep people from stealing the gold tonight?” the bartender asked. “Is it locked up somewhere? Or shouldn’t I ask?”