SUNKEN TREASURE.

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 4 October 1924, Page 12

SUNKEN TREASURE.

TALES OF THE SPANISH ARMADA. SEARCHERS UNDER THE SEA. Tiie reader,, old or young, who rises to the bait ol stories of treasure hunts will find in a new book by David Masters, ‘‘The Wondei’s of Salvage,” many accounts of searchers under the sea for galleon gold and for the riches of ships or for ships themselves lost in 'wins fiem the time of Napoleon to the years of our struggle with Germany. The writer recently published a capital book on “The Romance of Excavation”; his new book (says a reviewer in the Melbourne Age) is the more absorbing piece of work. He realises the fascination of his theme. “From earliest years our imaginations are fired by the mere mention of treasure. Who has not heard of the fabulous treasure of the blood-thirsty pirate, Captain Kidd, whose .booty still lies hidden on some far-off island? Expedition after expedition has been fitted out to find it, but the pirate hid it so well that the hunters have failed in their quest. Who has not marvelled at those mighty hoards of gold stored away by the Incas of Peru, gold which Pizarro looted from the Peruvian treasure house and carried back to Spain. Treasure! The mere whisper works magic, conjuring up pictures of gold and silver and piles of glowing gems—rubies, emeralds, and diamonds galore, gleaming with all the colours of the rainbow.” But in mentioning Captain Kidd the writer is nearer to romance than reality. For poor Captain Kidd was little better, after all* than a privateersman who was shabbily treated by King William III.; was put on trial at the Old Bailey in 1701 for piracy and murder; was condemned, and hanged accordingly. Hyatt Verrill, in his book, “The Real Storv of the Pirate,” says, “The fact that Kidd had a royal commission attracted a great deal of attention, while the exaggerated rumours of the treasure he had secured led to wild tales of buried loot. There is scarcely a spot from Maine to South America, or about the Caribbeans, where rumour and tradition have not placed Kidd’s treasure, and yet the only valuables he ever had to bury were those he hid on Gardiner’s Island, with full permission. of the owner. These were secured intact by Belmont. So whether Kidd was or was not a pirate, it is certain he never buried treasure which he did not possess.” OFF THE COAST, OF GALWAY. Two of David Masters’ best stories relate to galleons sunk from the Armada. The salvage work of a diver, he tells, took him to the coast of Galway. He was a companionable sort of man, and spent his evenings at the village inn, yarning with the fisherfolk. For years a story had been current in the neighbourhood of a galleon from the Armada having gone down in the vicinity. This story had been handed down from father to son for generations. The majority of the fishermen knew the yarn, but the passage of time had made many of them sceptical. One evening an old fisherman said to the diver, “Why don’t ve thry for the galleon?” “What galleon?” the diver enquired. “Why, yon one wrecked just outside the bar,” the fisherman answered. “Ye can walk about the sea bed in that suit of yours. My father, he told me, and my grandfather, he told him; a mighty ship from Spain it was, full of treasure, that went down in a storm.” On completing the task upon which he was engaged the diver began his search for the sunken treasure. ' Day after day he and the old fisherman went out in a rowing boat, threw a grapnel over the stern, and dragged it about the sea bed in the hope of lighting on the wreck. After ’weeks of search the grapnel caught in 6ome object, and held firmly. Marking the spot with a buoy, they rowed ashore for the diving suit and', air pump, and returned. The diver descended; the ghost of the galleon greeted his eyes —the skeleton of the ship of long ago. For three centuries she*had lain undisturbed in her watery grave, slowly rotting away, until she had all but vanished. The diver climbed over the rotten remnants of the ship into the hold. He searched until at last he came on what appeared to lie several small barrels. The treasure was his at last. Beneath his fingers were solid stacks of Spanish doubloons, from which the wood had long since perished, leaving the coins still shaped like the barrels into which the Spaniards had packed them when they set out on their ill-fated expedition. SCOTTISH CHIEFTAIN’S REVENGE It is another tale of the Spanish Armada, a tale which up to the present has not ended quite so happily, that lures men to try their luck *in the Bay of Tobermory, in the Isle of Mull. Somewhere beneath the waters of this bay is averred to lie a treasure so prodigious that it would make its discoverer a millionaire twice over. Here, if tradition speak truly, a man has the chance of dragging from the sea bed beautiful jewels and wonderful golden cups, with Spanish doubloons worth at least £2,000,000, which went down with the Floi-encia. Many who have studied the question believe that the ship undoubtedly sank here, but the Spaniards • themselves swore that the Florencia returned after the expedition. Whether the statement that the Florencia returned was true, or whether it was a deliberate falsehood spread forth to give the enemies of Spain the impression that she was still strong in ships, is an open question. Whatever be the name of the vessel, the evidence that a Spanish galleon did founder in Tobermory Bay in 1588 seems fairly strong. Moreover, it is backed zip by material facts in the shape of a cannon, some cannon halls, a weapon or two, and a doubloon that have been brought up from the bottom of the bay by treasure hunters. From what can be gathered by that distant happening, it appears that the Spaniards, sailing down the Scottish coast in their galleon, and seeking perhaps to replenish their water casks, made a foray or two ashore. Dziring one of these they captured a Highland chief, Donald Glas McLean, whom they held prisoner aboard their ship. So bitter a blow was it to the Scottish chieftain that, reckless of his own life, he sought a terrible revenge. He waited his opportunity till the ship was anchored in Tobermory Bay, and managed to enter the powder magazine. In a moment or tzvo his revenge was complete. The mighty galleon blew up. and the proud chieftain accompanied her crew of nearly 500 Spaniards to their doom. Many a tide has ebbed and flowed, writes Mr Masters; many a storm arisen and subsided, since that catastrophe. Timbers haz T e decaved, and mud and sand have gradually covered up the remains. The treasure by now may be buried 20 or 30 feet at the bottom of the bay, and unless some lucky chance leads an expedition to hit on the exact spot may remain buried for ever. Divers may h’ave walked over the treasure dozens of times without knowing that the gold and the silver

they were seeking lay aetuallv under their feet. llie Duke of Argyll, who possesses the right to salve the treasure, has proved his belief in its existence by spending considerable sums in hunting tor it. In addition, he has giz r en permission to several expeditions to prosecute the search, and these expeditions, in the aggregate, have expended a very great deal of money. The lack of success on the part of previous expeditions in no wish deters others from following in their steps, and the latest expedition reflected the gVeat changes of modern life by including a woman caver among its numbers. Mban while the treasure of Tobeiv mory Bay, which has excited the minds qt treasure hunters for many a "eneration. awaits discovery. The hook is a decidedly readable account of hunts for sunken treasure from shins, ancient and modern.