by John Day
Ellen’s musing continued. As with any hunt, there had to be a prize. The prize was of enormous value, but that meant nothing to her. It was the winning that counted. She had already decided that her share would be hidden away in a large vault somewhere and forgotten, as she took on the next treasure hunt.
It even surprised her as she thought, I hope Alan gets his share, he deserves to escape Mendez’s evil grip. Perhaps Walter can help if it all turns bad?
**
Next morning, the five awoke to brilliant sunshine that had quickly burned through an overcast sky. The wind was still strong and gusty, blowing sand from the beach in a loud hiss against the hull. It continued to scream through the rigging, but the danger from the storm was over now.
Alan, Ellen and Walter peered outside the saloon. Lady Jane was now high and dry, the clear blue sea had receded a good 10 metres behind them. That wasn’t likely to be a problem though, because the friendly natives would drag it to the sea, when they were ready.
Sarah cooked breakfast with Benny’s help. He was starving, and saw it as an opportunity to feed sooner if he chipped in. Eating on board was pretty much as normal, showers and fresh clothes restored their usual friendly banter.
Even Benny was being accepted again as part of the team. In his best finagling voice, he asked, “Has anyone thought about the next move? We now have a map to guide us to the artwork and bullion. Shouldn’t we plan the expedition to find it?”
It was the question on everyone’s mind, but safe on board at last, they were in no hurry to face the certain danger of the jungle.
Alan piped up. “Benny is right, we have a fortune to find and we cannot stay here in paradise for ever. I suggest we study the map, now it has dried out. We should find out where we have to go. Then we can plan how we will get there and what to take with us.” A murmur of agreement from the others, showed they were at least keen to talk about it.
Together they sat around the table studying the map, over steaming mugs of fresh ground coffee.
Ellen pointed out, “it was either a stroke of luck, or perhaps intentional that Franz Kaltman had only used a pencil to draw this map. If he had used ink, it would have dissolved and become illegible.
“It turns my stomach that the document is smudged and stained around the edges with his body fluids, but it’s still quite readable, now it’s dried out.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose and regarded the paper with an expression of revulsion. She wasn’t sure she could ever eat from that table again, now it had touched it.
Alan tapped a spot on the map with his forefinger.
“This is our destination, everyone.
“According to Kaltman’s drawing, it looks like it is in proportion with the actual geographical features, except for the over large size of U-159. If so, then the hiding place is not far from here, up in the jungle. Perhaps a day’s journey, there and back.”
Sarah raised her concerns. “I thought the jungle was out of bounds to us. The warden man, Jake Saunders, told us not to go in there.”
Her inner fear echoed theirs, even Walter. The man was brave, not stupid. Going in there untrained, without any proper equipment was riskier than anything they had done so far.
Ellen tried to put the danger into perspective. “You are quite right Sarah, but after all we have been through, I for one am prepared to go in, regardless.”
The others voiced their agreement, though in less than enthusiastic tones. Nothing was going to stop them, now they were so close to the treasure.
Walter raised an important point. “How are we going to use the coordinates on the map? Our phones don’t work out here, so we cannot download the map of the area and just home in on it.”
Ellen was listening intently to everyone and kept ahead of their thinking. “Good point Walter. Perhaps we can remove the GPS from Lady Jane and use that? The maps are built in, aren’t they?”
Walter agreed. “Yes, they must be Ellen. I’m certain I can wire up a power supply from torch batteries and insulation tape, and adapt something for an aerial.”
Ellen ploughed on as though in command. She wanted to get moving, all this talking was irritating her. “All we need to do then, is take food, water and medical supplies. I can quickly organise that. We will each carry our own needs and we can leave in an hour. It is still relatively cool and in the shade of the jungle, I calculate we will be near the cave before lunch.”
Alan had been thinking along the same lines. “I agree with Ellen, we should move as soon as we can.” He saw no point in prevaricating, and stood up. I am going to put on more suitable clothes, grab my supplies, and be ready to leave in 30 minutes.”
The talking was obviously over. Walter slid his chair back and got up. “I’ll remove the GPS unit and set it up. Ellen, can you get my supplies together for me?”
“As good as done Walter.”
With mixed feelings of dread and excitement, Sarah cleared away breakfast, disinfected the table and got ready. She rubbed Deet Jungle Strength insect repellent over her skin. Hopefully it meant what was claimed on the tube of ointment, she thought.
About 30 minutes later, they all headed off up the beach and looked for a way into the jungle. At the first spot that suggested it might be a gap, they took it.
***
As each person passed from the brilliant, hot morning sunshine into the gloomy, green shade of the dank, humid jungle, realisation dawned that this would not be the quick and easy journey that Ellen had imagined.
Walter took the lead and Alan covered the rear, as they made slow, quiet progress in single file. Under the canopy, the gaps between trees were large enough to ease throught. The tall vines and saplings were thin and readily broken apart.
Walter forced his way through the dense vegetation by barging in, bending back thin branches, stamping down on struggling saplings, and using his body weight to bulldoze a tunnel. He wished he could have conjured up a machete or two.
Conversation was not practical, strung out as they were, and none of them felt like talking in the overpowering heat. They also made as little noise as possible. They couldn’t take the chance of being heard by nearby cannibals, over the buzz of insects, screeching birds and monkeys going ape-shit, as they were crashing through undergrowth.
Each footstep was carefully chosen and the ground around them scrutinised for snakes.
Their ceaseless and futile waving of arms to fend off insects always resulted in the slap of skin, to crush the biters.
“Obviously these insects haven’t heard of Jungle Strength Deet. If anything, they seem to like it.” Sarah muttered to no one in particular. Her hair clung to her forehead and cheeks, glued there by grimy runs of perspiration. What would her socialite friends say if they could see her now?
No one was immune to the bite of insects or strength sapping, humid heat. Sweat oozed from every pore. It ran down bare skin to soak into clothing. Everyone, except Walter, wondered if they would be able to keep going long enough to reach the cave. He had been in worse conditions during conflict and took it in his stride.
It wasn’t lost on any of them that they would have to go all through this again, during the walk back. At least that was downhill.
The GPS unit was far from perfect. The tall trees with their thick canopy spoilt clear line of sight to the satellites, weakening the signal.
By mid-day it was still very hard going up the base of the mountain, their clothes were filthy and they were fit to drop.
At this point, they reached a small clearing formed by a large slab of stone, creating a low plateau. On three sides, the jungle formed an almost impenetrable wall of vine covered rock. It was part of the mountain that rose up like a small cliff face.
Alan looked around, checking the GPS again. “If we’re in the right spot, and Walter’s lashed up gismo shows that we are, the cave should be right here.”
He walked over to the vines and tried to pull them apart, but they were thickly meshed together. With help from the o
thers, he managed to part them.
They uncovered a neat stone wall of rocks, which could only have been formed by the hand of man.
Ellen pushed past and pawed loose a small rock. It fell with a thump at her feet. She grabbed another, and another, to make the opening larger.
They all heard the clunk of heavy metal on stone, followed by a ‘ping’ as a spring steel clip flew off.
Two seconds passed… realisation that it was the sound of a booby trap grenade, registered in their excited brains. Another two seconds passed, as Walter realised that Ellen and the rest of them were about to die…
Celeste.
Celeste ploughed through the choppy sea with the same determination as Mendez, to reach the treasure. With the storm well behind them and a brightening early morning sky overhead, it was time for the evil man to implement his plan.
Charles Henshaw was heading south, with the intention of skirting behind the path of the storm and sailing back to his home port of Haiti. He had lost interest in the treasure. If it was in the jungle, he figured he could search for ever, and not find it.
Mr Mendez would receive his account before docking and as soon as the funds cleared, he would be free to go ashore. However, if payment was declined, then…
***
Mendez beckoned to Gabe Conroy, the loud-mouthed bully he had chosen, to help him take over Celeste. Conroy looked around and realised he was effectively alone, and unseen, in this part of the ship. What did the sinister Mr Mendez, want of him?
Cautiously, Gabe approached, leaving a clear escape route behind him. Just in case! Although Mendez smiled, with the intention of putting the man at ease, it had the opposite effect. His evil smile had all the insincerity of a coy shark. Lure his prey in close and bite!
Gabe was not brave enough to come any nearer, so Mendez walked over to close the gap. “You look like the kind of guy who might be interested in making a lot of money, without actually having to do much for it.” It was a safe bet. Who wouldn’t?
“Depends, Mr Mendez. Who do you want killed?” Mendez threw back his head and laughed. It was most gratifying to be feared. Obviously, his reputation had even reached the ears of the bilge rats, on this tub.
Mendez set out his stall. “You know about the treasure we have been looking for, don’t you, Gabe?”
“Yea, I was depending on finding it, but Henshaw’s given up already. I needed the bonus we were promised, but now it’s all turned to crap!”
“My sentiments entirely, Gabe. That is why I chose to speak with you about the matter.”
“Very good of you I’m sure, but I ain’t captain ya know, so nuthin’ I can do about it.”
“Oh, but you can, Gabe. You certainly can. I think you would make a better captain than Henshaw. Of course, you would have to gather a few reliable men together, so Henshaw and his supporters could be thrown in the brig. Yes, the brig, that’s what you call it, isn’t it?
“Then you can turn the ship around and steam full ahead to Cabo San Juan del Guia.” Mendez was smiling again, to himself this time. He was impressed with his acquired knowledge of nautical terms.
“What you are suggesting is mutiny.”
“Technically you are correct, but I prefer to think of it as taking command.
“I would confirm in any law court of the land, that Captain Charles Henshaw was badly injured. He bequeathed the ownership of Celeste to you, with his dying breath. Of course, he made it a condition that he be buried at sea.
“Nice touch, don’t you think.?”
“Well Mr Mendez, put that way, I couldn’t refuse him, could I.”
The soft persuasive tone of Mendez, changed to a command. “Best you get your crew together immediately, lock up those who don’t see things your way and get this ship back on course.” Mendez backed away into the shadows of the superstructure, and watched Conroy stride off, to take over the ship.
***
Just 30 minutes later, Henshaw was dragged from the bridge. He was then forced to name the crew who were to join him, in the brig.
Under the watchful eye of Mr Mendez, Gabe Conroy took control of the bridge and minutes later, turned the ship on its new course to Cabo San Juan del Guia. The massively powerful diesel engines raised their pitch to an unfettered roar, as the prow sliced through the waves at full speed.
***
At mid-day, Celeste eased through the entrance to the lagoon.
Mendez looked visibly shocked to see the Lady Jane, beached. No way could he have imagined it ending up there in one piece. How the hell did the five passengers Henshaw had thrown overboard manage to swim to it? And, how did they navigate through the reef in the height of the storm?
He hadn’t considered the storm being less fierce here than what he had faced out at sea, otherwise there would have been no need for Henshaw to sail away so abruptly. Not that any of it mattered. The five were probably alive and well, and hunting for the treasure at this very moment...
***
At that instant, a loud explosion echoed down the valley towards him. A plume of smoke shot skywards on the mountainside, and startled birds burst squawking from the tall jungle trees.
Mendez’s first thoughts were, the five had found the treasure and blasted their way through rocks to reach it.
Galvanised into action, he noted the position of the rapidly fading smoke. “Gabe,” he ordered, “arm the crew, lower the RIB and follow me into the jungle.
“The five friends Henshaw threw overboard have found the treasure already, God knows how, but we need to grab it pronto.” Gabe’s thoughts exactly.
Once ashore, Mendez headed for the Lady Jane. “Look Gabe, the foot prints confirm they all survived. Now all we have to do is follow them.”
“Come on men!” Gabe Conway yelled, as he ran head down like a bloodhound, sniffing a warm trail through the soft sand.
He waited for his armed men, and Mr Mendez, to catch up to where the trail ran into the jungle. Suddenly his enthusiasm waned, the jungle didn’t look a friendly place, and he was not going in alone.
Seeing the bully’s hesitation, Mendez took the lead. Pistol in hand he charged into the stifling, steamy gloom, to follow the trail of broken twigs and crushed undergrowth. This trail will be a cinch to follow, he thought as he forged ahead.
The sound of the exploding grenade had echoed through the jungle, reaching the sharp ears of the cannibals, as they went about their village business.
To the chief, especially, the explosion meant one thing. He instantly mobilised his carefully trained warriors, to race to the source of the sound…
Capture.
As the rusted grenade rolled around their feet, on the uneven stone plateau, no one doubted that the treasure was on the other side of the wall of stones. Why else would the classic World War II German grenade be there, as a booby trap?
The German logic was impeccable. Anyone getting this far, would gather excitedly around the walled-up cave entrance. One grenade would probably kill everyone there. A few more booby traps would lay in wait for more persistent intruders.
Walter lunged at the rusted lump of death on a stick. He scooped it up and hurled it into the jungle.
Another two seconds passed, or thereabouts, though no one was counting. In unison, they fell face down on the slab, for cover.
The lethal grenade exploded right on time, even after all those years. The blast went sideways and up. The raised stone slab and dense trees shielded them from the flame and shrapnel. Leaves, disturbed birds, and a plume of smoke, shot skywards.
Anxious about Ellen, Walter shouted, “Is everyone alright?” Four shocked, but relieved voices reassured him.
Alan was the first to say what they were all thinking. “The trap proves we are at the right spot. Definitely no one else has made off with what we came for.
“If I were Franz Kaltman, I would have laid more traps to protect the hoard. He must have worried that the crew might want to return and take things for themselves. After all, th
eft of stolen goods might appear less criminal than stealing them the first time.” A murmured agreement rippled amongst them.
Ellen butted in. “What you are saying, Alan, is that we must be very careful how we proceed from now on, even if we do get inside.”
“Of course, that’s what he means” Benny retorted. “I vote Walter should check for traps as we work. He is the only one of us with the skills to detect and disarm them.”
“I feel safer working on my own.” Walter replied. “I suggest you take cover while I dismantle the wall.
“Perhaps we should take a break in any case. We must work out how to cover the cave entrance again, once we have seen inside. We obviously can’t carry two truck-loads back with us today.”
Sarah moved close to Walter, looked up into his face and spoke softly. “Good point, Walter. I think we had better calm down and take that break.”
She sounded unusually supportive of Walter - Alan and Ellen looked at each other, wondering what had brought on this change of attitude.
Wearily, the four moved well clear of the entrance and found safe spots to lay out, and rest.
It wasn’t long before they recovered and sat talking excitedly in raised voices.
“I wonder what we will find inside the cave. The entrance doesn’t look very large, judging by the stones Walter has removed. It is hard to imagine the cave being large inside.” Sarah queried.
“I was wondering the same thing” Ellen responded in a concerned voice. “No way is it going to hold two truckloads of cargo.
“Even if it does, hold it all, I doubt the paintings will be in good condition after 70 odd years of this ghastly heat and humidity.”
Benny had similar misgivings. “The cave couldn’t be more than a short tunnel, it was probably formed by a landslip, a heap of boulders with a gap between them and jungle on top.
“I wouldn’t worry about the artworks though, if they are in there. The Germans were very thorough in sealing the protective covering. The paintings were destined for underground storage where the temperature and humidity would be low and reasonably constant. This is a sealed cave, so I expect everything will be perfect.”