I laughed, but in the “are you shitting me?” tone, not the “I find that humorous” tone. “Why’s that?”
Glen straightened, his back popping loudly as he did. “Ouch, geez…. Well, theSanta Teresawas supposedly built in Havana, Cuba, alongside theAtocha. It was meant to head back to Spain with the rest of the convoy, but it wasn’t finished being built and they were so far behind schedule, they left without her. What little records historians have found seem to indicate a large quantity of silver coins was to be loaded on an awaiting galleon—presumably theTeresa—and it would head out on the next round making for Spain.
“But King Philip was so desperate for funds at the time, theTeresawas supposedly ordered to leave Cuba as soon as possible. So she headed out in October alone. We believe she’s buried at the bottom of the ocean, destroyed by the hurricane that scattered theAtocha’s already sunken treasure.”
Okay. Interesting, I had to admit.
“There’s historical evidence to back this up?”
“A very small amount,” Glen admitted. “Even I’m skeptical, but there’s been two written accounts I’ve found, and the timelines are accurate.”
“The Spanish kept such meticulous records of theAtochaandMargarita,” I stated. “Why skip on keeping paperwork for theTeresa?”
“The rush to get it to Spain might have caused a lapse in protocol,” Glen said. “And considering it was a last-minute build that never completed its maiden voyage? I could be swayed into believing its existence despite the lack of written documentation.”
I pointed at the case. “Why’s this here in Jack’s empty display instead of on the walls in the main exhibit?”
“This was Lou’s big thing—how he was tying the two subjects together.”
I held my breath for a beat. “What do you mean?”
“Lou said One-Eyed Jack’s last triumphant moment was when he found the treasure of theSanta Teresa. In 1871, worth around fifty grand. Today that’s nearly a million dollars in Spanish coin lost at sea, recovered by a pirate, only to be mysteriously lost again. The value would likely skyrocket just based on who it belonged to and its history.”
I gripped the case with one hand, feeling kind of shocked and excited and like the foundation of my world had been rocked ever so slightly. Also I was tired. “Can I lie down for just a minute?” I asked, already plopping myself onto the floor.
“Oh, oh, oh my gosh. You’ve got that sleeping thing. Can I get you anything?” Glen asked, suddenly all aflutter again.
I shook my head. “Just be a minute,” I murmured before zonking out.
WHEN Iwoke up, it was to a weird sound.
Shink,shink,shink.
I blinked and yawned before slowly sitting up. Glen had settled on the floor beside me and was holding a necklace, tilting it back and forth so the pendant slid on the chain.
Shink,shink.
“Sorry,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Can’t fight the sleep sometimes.”
“That’s okay. I figured if you didn’t wake up in another minute, though, I might have to go get your friend so you didn’t sleep on the floor all day.”
“How long was I sleeping?”
“Almost ten minutes.”
“Jesus.”
“Must have needed it,” Glen said thoughtfully, although it was obvious he knew little about narcolepsy beyond: I get tired.
“I guess,” I politely agreed. I pointed at the necklace. “Is that a coin?”
Glen paused his motions and held the chain up from his neck. “Sure is. One of the pieces of eight from theAtocha.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Yup. I had one made for my wife too.” Glen smiled at the pendent. “I always liked the coins of this time period. No two are quite the same, and the stampings on the back, I always thought it looked more like an ‘Xmarks the spot’ than a religious cross—”
I meant to put my hand on Glen’s shoulder to stop him midthought, but in my… er… enthusiasm, I more like smacked him in the chest.
