Not ‘ere the Sun could not sate the belly of the blue-eyed devil with its insatiable craving for gold. Not ‘ere the Sun, the Great Almighty, could satisfy the floor of the hellish waters. From Pharaoh to Queen Isabelle, they all sent men to find gold and with gold as their anchor, they sank to the depths where Scylla’s children feared passage.”
“It is said that since antiquity, Egyptian pharaohs dispatched ships to sail into the Strait of Gibraltar to battle with unknown hordes,” Vincent reported as he looked up. “Have you heard of the “solar barge” boats?”
The group shook their heads. Vincent explained, “In ancient Egypt, they were ritual vessels used during the funerary rites of kings to carry them across the heavens along with Ra, the sun god. Gold. They were all obsessed with gold. Many of the battles waged here were between Spanish armadas and so-called phantom vessels, across many centuries, even since the Gauls and Visigoths. They would sink and be devoured by the sea before trace could be found,” he said hastily, “which, as we all know, is impossible unless you speed up time by a century per day.”
“And all that is said to have happened here,” Peter asked, hardly able to control his tongue after two shots of Arak. Vincent nodded, “Or they would simply disappear.”
“This explains the chopper pilot going insane and heading for the blue, hey?” Purdue nudged Sam sincerely.
“My brother told me similar stories,” Hannah declared. “But he said that gold seemed to be like chum in this part of the Mediterranean Sea. But chum for what?”
“Intriguing question,” Purdue replied, his mind adrift with possible answers locked in science or physics. “If this is indeed similar to the Bermuda Triangle, nothing should be left. But they found remnants of ships. Besides, whatever is claiming these vessels is feeding on war and digests gold like fodder.”
“You see, part of why we came here, is because of this artifact,” Vincent confessed, holding up the prayer stick, “but when you showed up, we had to suspend our search for the prophecy it speaks of. We had to wait at a distance for you to leave.”
“Why?” Purdue asked.
“Because your yacht had anchored precisely where we were bound to dive, David,” the roughshod skipper replied categorically. He looked terrifying with his light eyes shining through the blackness of the shadows playing on his features. “This prayer stick Miss Hannah is so infatuated by was recovered from a World War II shipwreck off the coast of Peru, as I said. But with it came many other treasures, and among that salvage cargo were ledgers of German officers, claiming that some of their ships had disappeared on their way through the Strait of Gibraltar. Two identical ships were dispatched in secret by the SS High Command to divert attention from one another’s gold hoards. Both sank at the same time, to the hour! One off the western coast of South America. The other, short of the passage through the Gibraltar Straits.”
“That is a stone’s throw from here,” Peter mentioned.
“Correct,” Vincent said, “but that is why we are sailing west for now. Had we stayed where the crash occurred, the authorities may have questioned our presence there and our prospective scout would be compromised.”
“So you are just waiting for the dust to settle?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” Vincent affirmed. “We cannot abandon our exploration because of this glitch.”
“So, how did you know that we had found the gold?” Peter asked. Purdue’s eyes grew wide in exasperation. He could not believe that Peter had so carelessly ratted out their find to strangers they could not yet fully trust.
Vincent’s expression changed. “We did not know… until you just told me.”
16
Breakthrough
Javier Mantara could not pay attention in class. It was not the first time. Since his sister had committed the unspeakable crime outside her nature, he’d been having trouble functioning even on the most basic level. Even his classmates kept their distance, concerned that his erratic habits and subsequent deterioration was the result of drug abuse or some other mysterious malady.
By the looks of him the young man was ill, yet he exhibited no symptoms of any well-known diseases. His skin grew paler by the day, while his eyes had begun to look slightly milky, a dreadful vision to any observer. Javier was lurching about, unlike the way in which his usual rigid posture would carry him like a smooth conveyer belt. It was alarming to see how his usual outgoing and friendly manner had diminished into little more than a withdrawn glare, coupled with the odd sniffle.
It was not long before his lecturer, Prof. Loreno, asked Javier to stay behind after one of the evening classes to have a word with him. Prof. Loreno was genuinely concerned for the young man and wished to find out what was burdening him. In the buzzing white light of the small office behind the classroom, once but a storeroom, Prof. Loreno waited for Javier to enter before closing the door behind him.
“Thank you for staying behind. It won’t take long, Javier.” The professor smiled.
“Por favor, the lights,” Javier rasped.
“Why?” Prof. Loreno asked. “Does the light hurt your eyes?”
“Sí,” Javier replied softly, holding his hands over his brow to shield himself from the crass illumination. “It feels like needles in the back of my ocular cavities, Professor. Hurts like hell.”
“Your voice also,” the lecturer remarked, as she turned off the light and switched on her desk lamp, “sounds affected by your condition. What’s the matter, then? Have you seen a doctor?”
“Is that why you called me in?” Javier was laboring to speak clearly.
“Yes. I was concerned about your welfare and preferred to find out from you than to get outside opinions from speculative strangers,” she told him.
“I’m very grateful, Professor. The last thing I need is for people to make assumptions about me. To tell you the truth, I’m just relieved that this meeting is not about my progress in the curriculum. You had me worried that I was failing the course, or that my conduct was in question,” Javier said.
“Oh, no, no,” she dismissed his presumption with a smile and a waving hand, “there’s nothing lacking in your work at all, Javier. I’m quite impressed with your aptitude for psychology. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about talking to you regarding your further studies. You would do great in pursuing psychology as a vocation.”
“That’s good to hear. Gracias, Professor.”
“You deserve to be given the chance, but that’s why I’m so worried about your health,” she conveyed. Her silver hair was taken up in a bun, tucked neatly back above the collar of her white cotton blouse. She wiped her hands on a small towel to get rid of the moist annoyance the heat had brought.
“To be honest, Professor,” he shrugged, “apart from the pain I feel in my eyes when the light is too sharp, I feel alright. My throat is a little sore, but I figure that is from the choking heat we’ve been having. I mean, it’s been debilitating on most of us over the last few days, hasn’t it?”
“I agree on that,” she groaned, wiping the back of her neck with the towel. “But there’s more to it, is there not? Look at you, Javier. You are wasting away. Have you eaten?”
“I have. I am,” he protested, feeling a bit defensive to have to justify his eating habits to people who had no business asking. “I eat five meals a day, Prof. Loreno! Five! And here is a twisted little snippet for you. I sleep over ten hours a day! And I still look emaciated and exhausted.”
“Alright. Alright, Javier,” she calmed him. “I believe you. I just wanted to hear it from you, my friend. All you need to do is to tell me that you are okay and I will let it go.”