He emptied the last of the air from his buoyancy control device until he was significantly negatively buoyant, with his knees firm on the ground. Sam set his flashlight down on the side of the tunnel. Once light was shining on the pile of shale, he removed the first flat, stratified rock with his hands, followed by the second. They were loose, light and easy to remove. Within ten minutes, he’d cleared away most of the stones.
Beneath the remaining pieces of dark shale, a rich blue emanated, glistening like jewels under the beam of the flashlight. It encouraged him to work faster, clearing away the last of the stones.
Mouth dry with anticipation and excitement, Sam worked to keep his breathing slow and even. There, laying in a bed of sedimentary rock, was an honest to God, treasure chest.
A treasure chest! This was it. This was what they had come all this way to find!
Heart pounding, Sam picked up the flashlight, focusing its beam on his discovery.
The strongbox was metal-bound, likely made of oak. Painted in a decorative blue, it had the Confederate seal stamped into a raised badge on top. A hinged clasp hung on the front with a finely crafted thick brass padlock through its eye and thick, ornate handle rails ran along each end.
Sam thought he had rarely seen anything as beautiful in his life.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Discovering the strongbox was just the beginning. The harder part of their task was now to retrieve the heavy object from within the narrow confines of the mine shaft. Returning to his friends with the good news, they surfaced together. There, they created an intricate series of dead man anchors, pulleys systems, and buoyancy devices. The largest pulley was connected to the structural joist above the first vertical shaft.
Sam made the last dive to the Confederate chest. He secured it using a cradle of nylon mesh, connecting each of the four ends with a single carabiner. To this, he attached the first of four lifting devices — shaped like miniature hot-air balloons — the bags were then filled with air from his secondary regulator octopus, the small plastic mouthpiece the diver uses to breath out of.
He depressed the release valve and a burst of air dispersed out of the regulator octopus, filling the first of his lifting balloons. He followed with a second balloon, and on the third, the treasure chest started to lift. It didn’t race toward the ceiling of the mineshaft, but it broke free of its bed of rock where it had been housed for nearly 160 years.
Sam tugged on the lifting rope, and a moment later, the line started to move.
Once the strongbox was level with the horizontal tunnel, Sam unhooked the rope from the ceiling. His job was to manage the buoyancy of the lifting bags so that the Confederate chest could be maneuvered easily.
There was one tricky little problem. As the box began to ascend, the volume of air within the lifting bags would expand, eventually causing the entire thing to rocket to the surface.
To counteract this, the lift bags had an inbuilt bleeder system in place, which Sam could control to blow off excess air volume. Throughout this slow process, the lateral movement of the chest was controlled by the pulley system, into which Tom and David exerted their strength.
Each of them worked quickly, in a controlled and coordinated discipline that would have made Sam’s drill Sergeant proud.
Within ten minutes the treasure reached the main horizontal tunnel. Sam could see the fine light from the opening of the old mine shaft. On Tom and David’s faces, he could see the unique mixture of manifest relief, excitement, and exhilaration.
Sam adjusted the buoyancy, until the chest became neutral once more. Tom then returned to the surface, where Virginia had set up a heavy block and tackle on a truss between trees on the water’s edge in readiness for the final lift. David, true to his original word, was determined to stay with the chest the entire time, in case someone tried to steal its contents.
The cradle for the treasure chest was then attached to the end of a final rope by a carabiner, which reached all the way to the surface.
Sam waited, and within a few minutes, the rope started to move.
He and David followed the chest slowly along the tunnel until they reached the narrow entrance. There, they gradually helped ease it downward to fit beneath the partially collapsed opening to the mine shaft.
It slipped through seamlessly.
Sam and David followed afterward, then, each holding it with both hands for stability — they ascended. The last thing they wanted now was for the old Confederate chest to slip out of the harness, sending the entire contents to spread throughout the bottom of the river.
To make matters more difficult, the current flowed in a constant southerly direction. Sam carefully further inflated one of the lifting bags until the load slowly surfaced.
Once there, he filled each of the bags to their full amount, making certain that the chest wouldn’t accidentally sink. Sam and David held the side of the chest, while Tom and Virginia quickly hauled the heavy barge downstream to the western side of the river and up onto the bank.
Sam and David slowly climbed out of the river, each one removing their dive tanks and equipment. All four of them then dragged the heavy chest another seven or so feet up the bank, letting it come to rest in a bed of black shale. Water drained from the heavy box through a series of small rust fractures. They all stood around the treasure, staring in an exhausted sort of awe and triumph.
David started to laugh.
Sam looked up, gave him a wry smile. “What is it?”
“Nearly a hundred and sixty years ago my great ancestor buried this here. Since then, so many generations of Chestnuts and Murphy’s have searched for this place with no luck! I can’t believe we really did it.”
Virginia grinned. “Yeah, we did.”
Tom said, “Well, let’s open this thing up and see what all the hype was about!”
Sam contemplated the heavy box in silence.
Though corroded in places, it was still a beautiful work of sturdy, practical craftsmanship. The blue paint was worn through, but the workmanship was clearly of a high standard for its day. It looked exactly like what Sam had imagined for a Civil War era treasure chest
The sides were cut together seamlessly and the only sign of the copper lugs that were hidden on the joints was the paint corrosion that had resulted from the electrolysis in the water. The seal of the Confederate Army sat proudly raised on a mini dais on the lid of the chest, while decorative handrails ran along the sides.
A hook and clasp on the front were locked with a heavy brass padlock, which was green and black from its years submerged underwater.
The water finally ceased draining from inside.
A tingle of adrenaline in the base of Sam’s spine and gooseflesh on his forearms reminded him of how excited he was at this moment. He watched as Tom moved to the pile of gear and ceremoniously handed him a brick chisel and his lump hammer. Sam lined up the chisel on the inside edge of the non-hinged side of the lock and raised his right hand with the lump hammer held tightly.
For effect at such a moment, he paused, and smiled widely at the team gathered around. Then he brought the hammer down a mighty blow, which instantly shattered the weathered lock into pieces.
Sam opened the heavy lid. All eyes fixed on the contents inside.
It was empty.
Not entirely empty, but not full of treasure — it had perhaps five large rocks in it. That was all.
“What the hell?” Tom growled.
Virginia made a high, feminine gasp — a cross between a scream and a sigh.