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BEACHCOMBING FOR TREASUREOdds favor the beachcomber. In time, sunken coins, jewelry, ceramics, bottles and ship parts all wash ashore.BY PHILIP Z. TRUPP |
Gaze out to sea, and within a mile of your line of sight, hidden in relatively shallow water, lie most of the
world's sunken riches- billions of dollars worth of gold, silver, jewels and countless precious artifacts. Over
time, the relentless forces of wind, tide, storms and the constant shoreward flow of waves have deposited
caches of these lost treasures onto our beaches.
Along virtually every beach in the civilized world, you can find men and women who, during the off-season,
scour the unpeopled sands for various negotiables left over by the crowds of summer. I recently met one such
seeker at Rehoboth Beach, Del. Dressed in an old straw hat, plaid Bermuda shorts and sandals, he wanders
the sands, sweeping the flat circular head of his metal detector in front of him, like an ancient mariner gone
high-tech.
"It's sort of a hobby with me, " Freddy Swanson explains. "I'm retired on Social Security, and maybe this will
give the wife and me a little something extra."
Freddy occasionally makes a big strike, such as the solid-gold Benrus pocket watch he found in near-mint
condition. The back is inscribed: To Billy With Love, April 1933. He has also found Rolex watches of more
recent vintage, sterling-silver cigarette cases, rings and jewelry of every shape and description. One year, he
says, he made enough "hits" to pay for a holiday in the Bahamas.
Freddy eagerly showed me how his metal detector, purchased in an Army surplus outlet, discriminates
between different kinds of metal. He says it bypasses bottle caps, beer-can tabs and other nonnegotiables but
sends out a loud, high-pitched signal in the presence of gold and silver. "She's a peach," he sighs. "Great on
silver. I find a ton of change, and believe me, it's not to be sneezed at. "
Freddy and I are on different wavelengths: He searches for negotiables; I search for intangible
magic-artifacts that allow me to transcend time and space. Yet we are both captivated by what I call the
"Nemo Syndrome"-the slightly offbeat compulsion to explore and to discover objects that are completely
hidden from the rest of the world.
Indeed, the great Florida treasure boom began this way. In the 1950s, a retired homebuilder named Clifford
"Km" Wagner roamed the beaches of Florida near his home in Vero Beach after storms had deposited large
amounts of flotsam and jetsam onto the sands. He happened onto "something too shiny to be a seashell." It
was a silver Spanish piece of eight. Somewhere just off Vero Beach was a vast hidden storehouse of silver. It
was no dream. It was a tangible fortune, and Wagner was determined to find it.
He bought a metal detector and continued to explore what he called his "money beach." Soon he'd collected
nearly 40 Spanish coins, none dated later than 1715. He began to research the coins and the Spanish shipping
routes. He discovered that a flotilla of Spanish galleons bearing at least $14 million in new-world gold and
silver had been destroyed by a hurricane near Vero in 1715.
In the January 1965 issue of National Geographic, Wagner wrote about how he stepped over the invisible
boundary between idle beachcombing and the reality of finding a sunken treasure trove. "On that gray day
following [the] hurricane, when I sat on the bluff a decade ago and looked out at the heaving sea, I think I
made my decision without being conscious of it. From that moment began a series of circumstances that
changed me from a curious beachcomber into a serious searcher after treasure."
Within a few years, he found the remains of the 1715 treasure fleet in only 10 feet of water. The millions of
dollars worth of gold and silver he recovered made headlines around the world. But his associated finds-Ming
ceramics, ancient weapons and hundreds of other artifacts-outshone the glow of gold by giving a spell-binding
glimpse into the long-vanished lives of the Conquistadors.
Inspired by Wagner, I introduced my family to the art of beachcombing more than two decades ago along the
fabulous 100-mile strand of sandy barrier reef known as the Outer Banks of North Carolina. More than 600
vessels have met their fate on this lovely but treacherous coastline. Weather, constantly shifting offshore
shoals, several wars, human error and pirates have combined to make the Banks one of the most prolific
treasure-hunting areas in the world.
Our children roamed the beach with dime-store spades and buckets and returned with ship fittings, shards of
ancient ceramics and pottery mixed in with the usual seashells. The finds weren't spectacular, but they piqued
their imaginations. To discover from whence these ship relics had come, we climbed to the top of Jockey's
Ridge, a 200-foot-high sand dune that dominates the Banks and provides a panoramic view of the Atlantic
Ocean to the east and Pamlico Sound to the west. From the summit, we spotted the remains of vessels that
had been breaking up in the surf for centuries. In the ochre sand, we saw the dark outlines of ships that went
aground and were becoming a Dart of the beach itself.
At night, my wife, Sandy, and I read aloud chapters from David Stick's book, Graveyard of the Atlantic, a
maritime history of the Banks. It gave us the human side of the story, telling how each ship met its fate, who
survived and who didn't-even whose ghost still haunts the beach. It tells how Blackbeard's landbased pirates
lured those ancient vessels to their doom by strapping a lantern around a donkey's neck at night to create
errors in navigation that led unsuspecting ships to crash into the shore.
Our beachcombing took on a vibrancy. Each find was a precious fragment in the lexicon of the sea. A single
bronze spike that once held together deck planking evoked the image of a squarerigged ship, caught in an
instant of peril. But it meant more than a ship. The spike represented a nation that had sent her this way and
the lives and dreams of the men and women the ship carried. These were on the beach now, fragmented and
strewn about, but no less powerful in their ability to come to life in the hands of our children.
"Beats books," Rebecca once said.
Her younger brother, John, replied, "It makes books!"
Since those days along the Banks, I have discovered fossilized shark's teeth along Florida's west coast, old
English coins along the beaches of Delaware and an ancient silver spoon at St. Eustatius in the Netherlands
Antilles. My finds are magic windows that transport me into other worlds and other times.
Just how much of this magic is out there? There is no pat answer. However, researchers have logged at least
100, 000 known shipwrecks within a mile or less of our shorelines. But not all wrecks were recorded,
according to U.S. Navy historian John Jedrlinic, because prior to 1900, record-keeping was poor at best. He
estimates that, before the use of modern navigational equipment, ship losses ranged between 1,000 and 2,000
annually-and these figures apply only to big ships, of 100 tons or more. There are no tally sheets for smaller
vessels.
When it comes to the actual book value of these lost cargoes, the estimates soar into the billions of dollars.
Discounting modern commodities such as tin, copper and iron ore, the value of what most of us think of as
treasure- the gold and silver hauled out of the New World by the Spanish-amounts to more than enough to
pay off our $200 billion budget deficit.
The Spanish ledger books between 1500 and 1825 present some awesome figures. More than 13 billion troy
ounces of gold and silver were mined, along with thousands of tons of gemstones, all neatly registered for
shipment back to the Old World. Yet modern scholars and marine archaeologists, such as Daniel A. Koski
Karrell, president of Karrell Archaeological Associates, Arlington, Va., have discovered that the
Conquistadors smuggled out more than they ever registered with the king.
"For every peso shipped," he explains, "at least one more, and probably two, went as contraband." Thus a
minimum of 26 billion pesos found their way onto the high seas. Of that total, anywhere from 10 percent to 20
percent went to the bottom close to shore. (Karrell found his share in the Bahamas last November: an
estimated $1.4 billion treasure.)
The remains are constantly coming ashore and await new ownership by the motivated and persistent
beachcomber. The only limits for your finds are those imposed by time, energy, equipment and the vagaries
of weather.
Of course, nothing good comes easily. Beachcombing is great fun, rewarding and personally invigorating. But
it takes work. With this in mind, allow me to introduce you to the "dig-we-must" ethic and to the various tools
of the trade that will make your job easier.
The serious treasure hunter approaches the water's edge armed with two powerful attributes-motivation and
purpose. This requires channeling your enthusiasm into a course that will let you get the most out of the hunt.
These tips will help you get started.
o Do a bit of homework. Get to know the area you've chosen, its history and legends.
o Read local charts, books, old newspapers and pamphlets. You'll be pleasantly surprised at how much
information is freely available at the local library or historical society. Very often, that mysterious "X" that
marks the spot is waiting between the lines.
o Determine the size of your beachcombing party. A large group (six to 12 searchers) makes for greater
pooled resources and labor, but smaller expeditions tend to be more meticulous and focused.
o Plan the route of the expedition. Select the proper conditions of tide, wind and sea.
o Prepare for an extended search and any surprises that may arise.
Once you've plotted your course, you're ready to start hunting. If you're in search of coins or the remains of
ship wreckage, a good metal detector is helpful. A hand practiced with a simple instrument will get far better
results than an inexperienced one using the most-expensive machine on the market. So the lesson here is
practice, practice, practice. Practice by burying metal objects at various depths in your backyard and
searching for them. If you're concerned about what your neighbors will think, practice indoors by placing
coins and other objects under your rugs.
Patience is the name of the game. For instance, in spite of assurances by the metal-detector salesman that
the instrument will home in only on 24-karat gold, you may find that you're picking up rust iron, too. Don't
give up. It's simply the nature of the machine. Keep in mind that the most successful treasure hunter of all
time, Mel Fisher (who, in July 1985 discovered the $4 billion mother lode of the 1622 Spanish galleon
Atocha), spent 16 years checking out false "hits."
On beaches where ships have wrecked and where sand has obliterated all visible evidence, the only practical
way to search is by using a metal detector high up on the beach and, if possible, along the high- and low-tide
lines. The most fruitful way to do this is by using the "grid search."
The "dig-we-must" ethic of beachcombing means that you should be prepared to probe several feet below the
surface. Although small objects may be at or very near the surface, heavier objects, such as anchors and
metal fittings, sink deeper. A long-handled shovel with a narrow blade is an excellent digging tool.
Short-handled shovels can be perfectly adequate, but when the hole gets deeper, you'll appreciate the extra
reach.
Because holes in the sand tend to cave in quickly, use a section of stove pipe-10 inches in diameter and three
to four feet in length is standard-to keep your frustration level down. The pipe is a temporary caisson, and a
trowel or flour scoop may be used to dig out the sand.
Empty each scoop into a light, portable sifting tray. These can be wooden frames covered by ordinary window
screens or buckets with screens secured over open bottoms. The sand will filter through and leave your finds
on top of the screen. Teamwork is helpful. While one person digs, another can screen the sand. Do this for
about an hour, then switch roles.
All this is to say that your next vacation may be treasure bound, if you are so inclined. But please keep in
mind that any undertaking in, on or near the sea requires some attention to safety. Beachcombing isn't
thought of as risky business, and to keep it that way, the following tips may be helpful.
Avoid beaches that are off limits to the public, such as federal property, private estates and Indian
reservations. Always check with locals on this. You certainly don't want to be shot at or chased by watchdogs
or fined, when all you really wanted to do was uncover a few gold doubloons.
Avoid working around barren clay banks. When wet, they are slippery and hard to negotiate. They are also
very hard to dig.
Beware of very narrow beaches near cliffs. Beachcombing is an engrossing adventure, and you can easily
lose track of time. You don't want to be trapped against a cliff with the tide coming in or the surf kicking up.
Use caution if you plan to drive on the beach. It's tricky without a rugged dune buggy. Two years ago, in
Ocean City, Md., I was engaged with several others in trying to pull a large piece of a ship's hull out of the
surf with a line attached to a jeep. I will never forget standing by helplessly as the hull section buckled and
lurched back out to sea, making our jeep a submerged treasure of the future.
Make sure all parties stay in touch. On difficult terrain, such as the rocky coasts of Maine or Oregon, good
communication lets you concentrate on the treasure instead of the possibility the someone may get hurt.
Finally, one more rule of beachcombing is in order: Go for the fun of it. The happiest beachcombers never go
to the gold alone, though it's nice if you ca find it. "Striking it rich" is the thrill of lifetime, to be sure; but, in
the end, it' the chase that counts, and the knowledge you gain in thrall to the "Nemo Syndrome."