We let out another cheer. Keeping the lid propped open, we let Ange do the honors. She bent down, reached into the chest, then laughed joyously and pulled out a gold bar. It was incredible, a valuable piece of history that had been lost to the tides of time for a hundred and fifty years.
Ange handed it to me. It was smaller than I’d expected. Roughly the size of an iPhone, but thicker at about half an inch. It amazed me how heavy it was for its size. It felt close to five pounds.
I handed it around, and when it got to Pete, he rinsed it off and inspected it closely.
“Two kilograms,” he said, reading markings on the bottom of one of the bars flat sides. “El Callao.”
“Venezuela,” Jack said, “the famous South American goldfields.”
Our hearts continued to race as we cleared out the chest and counted the gold. I couldn’t stop feeling the bar once it got back into my hands, couldn’t stop admiring it and being amazed at its weight. I’d lifted gold bars before, but it always astounded me. Equally awe-inspiring was the fact that the little bar of ore was worth over a hundred thousand dollars at the current market value.
“Fifty,” Ange said, finishing up her count.
I stepped back, pressed a hand to my right temple, and shook my head.
Fifty gold bars? And two kilos a pop?
That meant that we’d stumbled upon…
“Over five million dollars’ worth of gold,” Pete said. He laughed and added, “Not bad for two days of prospecting.”
“I’ll say,” Jack chimed in. “And it’s been sitting here in this lagoon all this time.” He shook his head and added, “If only John Ridley could see this. That guy got all worked up over a belt buckle, so he’d have probably had a heart attack at the sight of this trove.”
Putting the gold bars back into place after counting them, Ange rose to her feet and stretched. Suddenly, as she glanced over her right shoulder, she froze, then shielded the side of her face from the sun. Her easy-going smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a focused curiosity.
“What is it, Ange?” I said.
She kept staring off into the mangrove forest, scanning over the heart of the northern part of Old Rhodes Key.
“I don’t know, I… I thought I saw something. A flash of light. Like the sun’s reflection off something shiny.”
“Could be a tour,” Jack said, his eyes still locked on the chest of gold bars.
“He’s right,” Pete said. “The old Jones family homestead is over that way. Not much left, but it’s still interesting. Been years since I saw it.”
“Maybe we’ll have to check it out,” I said. “After we get this treasure out of here, of course.”
Ange stared for a few more seconds, then blinked and looked away.
“Maybe I’m just seeing things,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I was so enthralled by the treasure, I haven’t drank anything in hours.”
She strode toward the skiff, but Pete waved her off with his hook and bounded to the boat.
“I’ve got you covered, Ange,” he said. He climbed into the boat, hinged open the cooler, and divvied out the last of the bottled waters. “But a find like this deserves a proper celebration.” He stepped up to the helm. “I’ll be right back.”
“Pete, it’s nine in the morning,” Ange said.
He shrugged.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
We laughed, seeing his reply coming from a mile away.
Jack splashed toward the boat and pulled himself aboard.
“No find is going to be celebrated without my lucky Cohibas,” he said. “You two wanna tag along as well?”
I looked to Ange. Her eyes darted to the millions of dollars of gold at her feet.
“Are you kidding?” she said. “You think we’re just gonna leave these here?”
Jack held out his hands, saying that we had the place to ourselves. But we stayed behind anyway. I untied the line while Pete started up the engine. Ange and I watched while they quickly motored across the lagoon, then vanished behind the curtain of mangroves.
Ange and I hugged again, then locked lips. I got swept up in the moment, in her soft skin, and in her warmth. When we finally let go of each other, we gazed into each other’s eyes and laughed.
“What a life, huh?” she said.
I looked out over the landscape, then turned to ogle the hole with the chest at the bottom.
“You know how much I love our usual laid-back island lifestyle,” I said. “But this… chasing down history and searching for treasure. It sure is exciting.”
“Finding stacks of gold bars helps,” she said.
I nodded. “Staking claim to these bars won’t be easy. Especially since this is technically just inside Biscayne National Park.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, if we tell anyone, that is.” She enjoyed my reaction, then playfully hit my shoulder. “I’m just joking, Mr. Serious. Even if we don’t get to keep any of them, this was still fun. Besides, it’s not like we’re hurting for money. What we should do is tell Scott, then have the money from the bars donated to local charities. Win-win.”
I smiled. It was a good idea. Our senator friend would be able to help iron out the details, and there were many great local charities to choose from.
I finished off my water, then turned to look across the lagoon. A distant humming noise caught my attention. My initial assumption was that it was Jack and Pete, racing back with their celebratory items of choice. But I quickly realized that it wasn’t one engine, but multiple ones. They were noisy, and getting louder with every passing second. Unlike normal boats, they made a series of whomping sounds, like the craft was skipping and smacking the surface of the
