Owen couldn't believe his eyes and he couldn't desist the urge to keep them glued to the patched eyed wooden carving of the pirate in Rupert's store. It was only twelve inches tall, the face was not handsome, the build not that of an athlete, but it was twelve inches of wood carved with such expertise Owen could almost see the twinkle in the one good eye. His body shivered with delight in anticipation of holding it in his hands but fear prevented him from touching it. He knew the policy in most stores was "if you break it you buy it" and he was so agog it might slip from his shaking hands and break into a million pieces on the floor.
"Do you like Patch Eye?" Rupert asked the youth as he watched the way he was enjoying the statue.
"Oh! he's all right." Owen answered trying to be nonchalant; but failing.
Rupert turned to walk away and as he did Owen asked,
"How much does he cost?"
"I don't know." Rupert answered placing his left thumb to his left cheek and his left index finger to his right cheek giving him the impression of being deep in thought. "How much would you pay for him?"
"I'd give a million dollars if I had it, but I don't." He sadly answered. "I don't even have a penny."
Rupert said as he walked away, "That's O.K. it doesn't cost anything to look around in here. Why don't you pick him up and see if you still think he's worth a million dollars."
Owen tenderly, almost lovingly, lifted the little wooden pirate and holding him inches from his nose stared into the one good eye. Slowly, deliberately, as though it had a mind of its own the carving moved in his hands and a startled Owen squeezed it as tight as was humanly possible for his age. With all the pressure that was being applied to it the figure still managed to turn almost half way around in his hands and then the whole body started moving toward a prone position. The lad was powerless to stop the movement and when it did finally ceased its shenanigans it was almost parallel to the floor. Owen?s attention was drawn to something shiny exactly where the pirate was looking. He bent over and retrieved a silver dollar from its hiding place and being an honest youngster carried it to Rupert.
"I found this on the floor," he said as he handed the coin to the old man.
"Well what do you know about that. It's exactly what the pirate costs. One silver dollar."
"But it isn't my dollar," Owen truthfully admitted, "I found it on your floor so it must belong to you."
"It does now, son, and Patch Eye belongs to you."
Words of gratitude spewed from a young mouth as freely as words from a lawyer describing his own achievements. By the time the lad gained control of his emotions there was already an uncanny bond between him and a piece of carved wood.
He was homeward bound, still within a hundred feet of the store front, when Patch Eye decided to act up again. He slowly rotated in Owen's hands and moved toward a horizontal plane until he was looking at a quarter on the ground. Owen retrieved the coin and deposited it in his pocket for safe keeping. His house was less than a twenty minute walk from Rupert's shop and by the time he entered the front door he was the proud owner of ninety four cents. Patch Eye seemed to attract money like carrion attracts vultures.
Every Saturday morning he usually ran to the playground to spend time with his friends but today would be the exception. He grabbed his money making friend and started in the general direction, but he never arrived. Patch Eye started performing his magic trick and before the lad realized it he had six dollars and sixty eight cents in his jeans pocket and it was time to go home. Every day when they were out together Patch Eye guided his new owner to a nickel here, a quarter there, and soon Owen had to find somewhere to put his coins. He manufactured a temporary bank by cutting the top from an empty gallon milk jug, washed it clean, and dried it out for a couple days before putting it in his closet. Every bill and coin he and his new best friend unearthed he saved in his plastic depository.
As the days passed he realized he needed to get another jug for his first one was filled to the top, and soon he needed a third. Owen found so much pleasure in amassing his small cache of bills and coins, and spent so much of his spare time treasure seeking with Patch Eye, he never had time to spend the money he amassed.
His third jug was filled to overflowing, his forth jug nearly full, so he asked his parents what he should with his booty. They knew he had been finding and saving money but had no idea of the quantity.
"Well," his mother answered, "there are a dozen things you can do with it. If you want we can go to the bank and start a savings account in your name, or you can donate it to a any number of charities, or you can continue to save it. It's yours and you can do anything you want to with it."
"I think I'll just save it for now and when we come back from grandma's house next weekend I'll decide then."
"Whatever you want to do is OK," his mother said as she left his room.
Owen loved to visit his grandparents on their farm and they loved having him. He was their only male grandchild and as far as they were concerned he could do no wrong. His father, mother, and grandparents were sitting with him at the dinner table that Friday night and Grammy and Grampy were almost in tears.
"This has been a bad week for us," Grampy Burns was saying. "Everything has gone wrong. June lost her wedding and engagement rings and we can't find them anywhere. I knocked a hole in the oil pan of the truck and lost all the oil without realizing it. The engine got hot and froze up on me. The artesian well I've used for thirty years to water the crops has gone dry and without water the land is almost valueless."
"Can't you get city water out here?" Owen asked. All he ever had to do was turn on a tap or take it nice and cold out of the refrigerator door.
"I could but it would cost a mint and I don't have the money. I'd hate to lose my land after all these years."
The older folks sat at the table talking grown-up talk so Owen took Patch Eye out to the swing on the porch.
"I've got to help them somehow Patch Eye. I can give them the money we?ve found and saved but that wouldn't be enough. I wish I could think of something else."
The wooden figurine must have sensed Owen's wish for it began to revolve slowly in his hands, but never bent toward the ground as it usually did when they were searching for lost money. Instead it pointed straight ahead so Owen arose and headed in the direction the carving was pointing. When they were parallel to the porch stairs Patch Eye turned so they would leave the porch and head down the cement walk. When they neared Grammy?s bed of pansies Patch Eye went nearly horizontal and was looking at a clump of grass that had been removed from the flower bed. Owen moved the grass clump and there lay an engagement ring and a wedding band. Owen smiled as he picked them up and went into the house.
"Are these the rings you said you couldn't find?" he asked passing them to his grandmother.
"Why bless your heart," his grandmother said throwing her arms around him and giving him a big hug and kiss. "Where did you find them?"
"They were in your flower garden under a clump of grass."
"I remember now," his grandmother said thinking back a little. "I was weeding out the garden so I could plant the pansies and my fingers swelled up on me. The rings hurt so much I took them off and I guess I forgot them. That was the first time in over thirty years I had ever removed them."
Feeling proud that the two of them had done something to help, Owen and his constant companion went back outside to play. This time, however, they went out the back door and headed straight for Owen?s favorite playing place; the barn. His innovative mind would work like a movie theater screen and he could imagine, almost feel, himself being a trapeze artist doing his final flip into the net. All this pleasure by jumping from one of the rafters into the hay, when it was deep enough to keep him from hurting himself.
Midway between the house and barn mystical Patch Eye quickly turned in Owen?s hands and faced toward the open field. The lad obeyed his instincts and carried his wooden friend in the indicated direction until Patch Eye turned toward the ground. He dropped to his knees and carefully searched through the grass but there was nothing there to be found. Until now Patch Eye had batted a thousand but it appeared this time he had blundered. Owen tried to stand erect but Patch Eye wouldn?t permit the maneuver and pulled his hands closer to the ground.
"There's got to be something there or you wouldn't act this way," a rational young mind said as he cautiously laid the wooden doll on the ground and headed to the barn for a shovel.
He moved the doll to one side so it wouldn?t be damaged and commenced digging in the area where he felt Patch Eye had been looking. He dug in the earth until beads of sweat jumped through his skin and ran down his nearly exhausted body. Blisters burst out on his tender hands like popcorn being heated on a hot stove, but to no avail. The ground yielded nothing. He had gone down over four feet without any results and was getting tired and discouraged, and ready to quit, when the shovel blade hit something with a loud thump. The adrenaline surged in his young body and told him to hurry and uncover whatever it was he had discovered but the watery bubbles on his hands screamed at him to seek help.
Tucking Patch Eye under his arm he scurried to the house and nearly breathless told his parents of his find. There was skepticism in the minds of all four of the older folks but curiosity usually reins supreme and they surrendered to their urge to see what he had uncovered. When they arrived at the spot where the amateur archeologist had been digging all they saw was dirt so Owen's dad manned the shovel and continued digging.
He uncovered what was left of an old container. The shape and size of the box suggested it was probably a Captain's Chest. He grasped two ancient handles in his hands and as he started his upward motion the chest remain in position. The hand grips broke loose and stayed in his hands. He cast them aside and attempted to lift the chest by placing his hands under the bottom of it but the unnatural pressure from beneath started the chest crumbling. Realizing he'd never lift the chest from its resting place to ground level as a single unit he decided to remove the cover while the box was still firmly planted. The top covering easily separated itself from the chest and the weight of the contents caused all four sides to fall outward.
Everyone stood flabbergasted as they stared at the chest?s treasure. Thousands of coins, that by all appearance were foreign and recently minted, covered the floor of the hole and ran several inches up three sides of the pit wall. The forth side of the chest was resting against Mr. Burns?s legs preventing the coins from covering his feet. Awed, elated, overwhelmed, by the quantity and quality of the metal pieces he carefully removed a handful of the coins and passed them to his father.
"What are they, Dad?"
The elder Mr. Burns studied them like a librarian studying a first edition and breathlessly answered,
"They're American coins I think, but I'm not sure. Some of the coins say NE on one side and have a Roman numeral three on the other side. A couple are dated 1652 and have the Roman numeral VI printed on them. I have a half penny dated 1722 and a couple coins dated 1785."
"Owen run to the barn and get the wheelbarrow," his father said, "we'll need it to move the coins." Owen was off in a flash and in a couple minutes returned with the wheelbarrow. His dad started to use the shovel to scoop the coins from their resting place when the senior Mr. Burns yelled at him.
"You shouldn?t do that. You might injure some of the coins."
"You're right, Dad. In fact we should probably lay something soft on the bottom of -----."
"Better still," the elder of the clan said walking away, "I'll get the tractor and trailer and put a good thick blanket on the trailer floor. We can put the coins on the blanket without harming them."
Owen, wanting to help, rolled the wheelbarrow back to the barn and assisted his grandfather with the tractor and trailer. Grandpa Burns removed a basket from a shelf, one he used to gather eggs from the hen house, and handed it to his grandson.
?Your dad can put the coins in this and hand them to us.?
Once the trailer was in the correct position all the coins were gathered and carefully laid to rest on the floor. Mr. Burns removed himself from the hole and joined the other adults in preparation for their short happy walk back to the house. Owen found Patch Eye peacefully resting where he had been placed and picked him up but the doll was intent on staying near the hole. Once elevated he turned in his master?s hands and pointed back to the hole.
?Wait a minute,? Owen yelled at the others, ?there?s something else down there.?
It was summertime and the days were long but the treasure hadn?t been discovered until after most of the daylight had been consumed. The last thirty minutes of their labor had been performed at evening?s dusk and darkness would soon replace the light from the sun. Mr. Burns slid back into the hole being careful not to do any more damage to the old chest than necessary. He folded the sides into the smallest package feasible and with some difficulty lifted the empty container from the hole.
?Well look at this,? Grandpa Burns shouted unable to contain his excitement and surprise. ?The straps holding the chest together, the handles, and all the decorations are made of gold. Otherwise I guess they would have rusted away.?
The remains of the chest were placed on the trailer with the coins and an excited lad rode on the tractor with his ecstatic grandfather as they maneuvered the trailer as close as possible to the back door. They started removing the coins from the trailer and placed them on the dining room table hoping it would have sufficient strength to support their weight. After several rounds trips had been made by each member of the family the load was light enough to allow them to carry the remaining coins on the blanket. The three males and the younger Mrs. Burns each grabbed a corner and transported the coins intact. The coin laden blanket was set to one side as they sat around the table and separated some of the coins according to date and denomination.
"Is there a numismatist in town?" Owen's dad asked his parents.
"One of the best; Charlie Samples. He owns a coin shop and can tell you anything you want to know about anything minted here or abroad."
"Call him, Dad, and see if he'll come and check the coins for us."
The call was made and the forty five minutes required for Charlie to ring their door bell was a sufficient amount of time for the family to get lost in their examination of the old coins.
Charlie gasped when he saw the quantity and quality of the old coins and never spoke while he was examining them.
"These are the best old coins I have ever seen," he said when he finished, "and probably some of the most valuable."
"Just how valuable are they?" a young inquisitive mind wanted to know as he stared at the piece of metal he was holding.
"That coin in your hand, Johnny, is a New England Shilling and I'll give you twenty thousand dollars for it right now, but, if you except my offer I'd be cheating you. It's worth three or four thousand dollars more than that."
Everyone gasped.
"And that isn't even the most expensive coin you have. The New England threepence and the New England sixpence are so rare there isn't a value placed on them and you can ask just about anything you want for them and you'll probably get it. You'll be able to live very comfortably the rest of your life on the Willow Tree, Oak Tree, and Pine Tree coinage alone."
"Are the coins named after the trees I see on one side?" Owen asked.
"Yes, and the Willow coins are worth twenty to twenty five thousand dollars each. The Oak and Pine trees only run two or three thousand each. The least valuable coin you have there are the ones called the Rosa Americana coins and they were the coinage of a gentleman named William Wood. The 1723 Crowned Rose is worth about two hundred and seventy five dollars."
"We have a duplication of that coin," the senior Mr. Brown said to the gent evaluating each coin, ?would you take one of them as payment for the work you have done today?"
"Oh, goodness, no," Mr. Samples answered, "I have been paid by just seeing this collection. I couldn't possibly accept such a valuable coin."
"Sure you can." Owen said placing one of the coins in Charlie's hand.
"If I take this coin will you let me do something for both of us in return?"
"The coin is yours," answered Owen's dad, "but what else is there to do?"
"You'll probably want to sell the coins, some of them anyhow. If you get an agent he'll demand fifteen or twenty per-cent of what you make. If I'm allowed to keep this coin and you decide to sell some coins, I'll get you the best price possible on the market. And I'll do it for five per-cent of the profit."
"Done deal," Owens grandfather said and with a handshake the deal was closed.
?Grandpa, can I have the old chest?? Owen asked.
?You found it, and it is yours, but what in the world are you going to do with it.?
?I have a very special person in mind I want to give it to.?
?Do you know how much that trunk is worth, Owen?? his dad asked.
?No I don?t but if everything is made of gold it has to be worth something.?
The grown-ups shook their heads wondering what thoughts were running around in his small head.
The Monday after returning from their visit to the farm, and Mr. Burns had returned from work, Owen asked his dad to put the old trunk in the car and drive him to Rupert?s shop. Without question the chest was loaded in the trunk and the pair rode the short distance to the place where miracles were born. Rupert greeted the duo and smiled when Mr. Burns carried the remains of the chest in and placed it on a workbench. ?Sir,? Owen asked, ?can you make a chest that will fit inside these bands??
?Do you want a very special chest?? a twinkled eyed old man asked.
?The most beautiful chest you can make.?
?I think I might have something you?ll like. Wait here while I get it. Eh, let me have the trimmings so I can be sure they fit.?
Rupert walked away, bands, decorations and handles in hand, and headed for his workshop. Mister and Master Burns browsed the shop admiring the work of a man with the aptitude to turn a piece of wood into a work of art. Forty minutes passed so quickly they didn?t realize Rupert had returned and placed a chest on the counter.
?Is this something like you had in mind?? he asked the youth.
?I couldn?t imagine anything as beautiful as this,? he answered, his mouth agape. His eyes were glued to the most amazing pieces of carving he had ever seen. All six sides of the cherry wood box were carved to displayed events in the life of the person he intended to give it to. The entire top was a church with two people standing on the stairs posing for their wedding picture. The right side was a carving of two people holding hands and looking at their first house. The left side was a woman in a wheelchair holding her newborn baby in her arms getting ready to leave the hospital. The front was a wooden portrait of a glen in Tennessee where she had spent her honeymoon. The back was the college she had attended and several of her classmates were there. The bottom was a carving of the house where Owen and his parents now lived, and the metal that adorned the chest was polished to a golden sheen.
?Do you think she?ll like it?? Rupert asked the lad.
?I think it will be the best gift she has ever had.? Owen replied. Mr. Burns could only stare at the chest; he was speechless. Owen passed Rupert three coins that had he had selected from a pile of many. A Willow tree coin, a Pine tree coin and an Oak tree coin.
?Will that cover the cost?? Owen asked.
?It?s more than sufficient,? Rupert answered as he pocketed the coins without looking at them.
Even in his stage of slight mummification Mr. Burns managed to carry the chest to his car and deposit it in the trunk. The noise of the car engine seemed to snap him awake and he said to his son,
?You must have told him a lot about us but how did he know what size the old chest would be.?
?I don?t know,? answered the bewildered lad, ?unless he has several of them in different sizes. Somehow I feel he knew exactly what I wanted.?
?Why is this chest so special, Johnny??
?Have you forgotten what day this is??
?It?s Monday the...?
?Did you forget mom?s birthday??
?I sure as heck did, but I can?t get her anything as nice as your chest.?
?Don?t worry about it, dad, this is from the both of us.?
The following week was one Owen always looked forward to in wild anticipation. It was the week of their yearly family vacation. They all agreed it would be nice to visit the Dry Tortugas, an island group off southern Florida, west of Key West. Owen knew it would be exciting for him and Patch Eye to play in Fort Jefferson and imagine the stories that could be told by the prisoners that lived there until 1874.
The day they arrived will forever be etched into the minds of the Burns family. Many times his parents had told him about the frequent appearance of Florida sunshine, and both times they had visited Disney World the weather was perfect, but today was the rare exception. The rain gods had chosen this day to welcome the Burns family, and Patch Eye, to the islands. The downpour was torrential and the deluge left them soaked to the skin, even Patch Eye. Owen had sheltered him under his shirt to keep him dry but his effort had failed miserably.
The first day of their vacation would be spent indoors and they were thankful to be sheltered from the pelting rain. They arose early next morning to a sky so full of blue it spilled over and fell into the already blue sea. Two small snow-white clouds floated in the heavens blown by the warmest gentlest breeze Owen had ever felt. After a leisurely eaten and enjoyed breakfast the four of them, the three humans and Patch Eye, started off for Fort Jefferson.
As they neared the fort his mind started to convoke stories possible only in thoughts of the young. Fort Jefferson was known to the prisoners as Shark Island for a good reason. The moat surrounding the building was infested with swift moving, hungry, sharp toothed, sharks. Owen's mind shifted into overdrive as he imagined prisoners planning ways to get past the guards, the sharks, and out into a free world but what he really wanted right now was to see one of the cells where the prisoners endured their miserable sentences. The lack of light inside the fort made it nearly impossible to see and it was difficult to even tell where the cells had once been. The most conspicuous cell, the one Owen was in, was once occupied by the infamous Dr. Mudd who had nursed many prisoners back to health.
Inside the cell Patch Eye started to turn in his hands and it made the short hairs stand up on the back of Owen's neck. What possible treasure could be hidden in a place like this? He froze inside the cell and called for his parents so they could see whatever it was that Patch Eye had detected. The wooden pirate acted in the manner of a divining rod and pointed toward a brick on the outside wall of the cell and wouldn't be moved from that position.
Mr. Burns touched the brick and it moved ever so slightly in his hand. He pried it with his knife, wiggled it with his hands, and moved it as much as possible until it surrendered to his actions and released itself from the rest of the wall. Mr. Burns put his arm and hand into the space the brick had just vacated and felt something he thought was several sheets of paper. He grasped it in his hand and retrieved it through the hole. It was an 1848 written history of a prisoner named James Bagley who had been imprisoned because of his pirate activities. At the time James had written his papers he was nearly eighty and had beautifully described many fascinating experiences he and other pirates of that era had enjoyed.
Mr. and Mrs. Burns knew the they could never possess the book because its historical value was meant for the whole world, not just them. But as discoverers of the manuscript they felt they had the right to read it before presenting it to the fort authorities. It was actually a journal of some twenty one pages of writing, four pages of pictures drawn by one of the prisoners, and a map supposedly showing where James had hidden his booty of some fifty years. The last drawing in the book was of James in his latter years and written beneath his picture was the name he was best known by; Patch Eye.
The resemblance between the wooden carving and the drawing would have been remarkable earlier but Patch Eye was going through a metamorphosis that worried his young owner. In the few hours since the discovery of the book his Patch Eye had aged and begun to disintegrate. Slivers of wood were separating from the carving at an alarming rate and if the decaying process carried on at this rate Patch Eye would soon be only a memory. The light bulb in Owen?s head flashed and he knew why his precious toy was crumbling. The day they arrived they had all been soaked by the rain, even Patch Eye, and now the water was destroying him.
The Burns family watched as minute by minute Patch Eye dissolved leaving only a small portion of himself and Owen was quick to notice the part remaining looked exactly like the map he had seen in the book. The page where the map had shown itself before was as blank as the expression on the faces of the Mr. and Mrs. Burns. Owen put what was left of his wooden friend in his pocket and turned the manuscript over to the people running the fort.
Mr. Burns purchased a four by four foot map of the world and they all tried for hours to find an island that looked like the wooden one Owen owned. Eventually their efforts paid off and they found it, Plum Island, just off the northeast tip of Long Island, New York. They cut their vacation in Florida short and flew to New York. Their conversation during the flight consisted mostly of what they would find once they were on Plum Island, but they would have been better off relaxing and watching the movie. On the island they discovered the X on the map was sitting beneath a federal building, ( The Plum Island Animal Disease Center. ) It was sitting on the exact location where the map showed the treasure to be buried.
For now it the treasure would remain like the temple of Solomon. Untouchable until some natural disaster removed the building or time melted it to the ground. For now all Owen could do was guard his map and wait.
