A Golden Fantasy

By Philip Mongeau

While gunkholing in the Bahamas aboard Peter Magyar’s 56’ sloop, his girlfriend, Audrey Whidden, discovers a jewel encrusted golden chalice nestled among the coral reefs. Audrey is 21 years younger than Peter and the discovery has a different meaning to both of them. Join the search of Nuestra Señora de la Rosa, lost in the great hurricane of 1715, in this exciting tale of greed and sabotage, love and jealousy. This mismatched pairing of a May-December relationship approach this search with conflicting views, threatening to unravel their relationship. Different players join the crew, further eroding their fragile bond.

A GOLDEN FANTASY is filled with colorful images, delivered in accurate detail at an exhilarating pace by an experienced blue water sailor and underwater videographer. The reader will experience the feeling of sailing with dolphins in the Gulf Stream, gliding weightlessly through an underwater kingdom, while plagued by the fear of sabotage in this watery world. Come aboard in the quest of Nuestra Señora de la Rosa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philip Mongeau
• Release date: Jul 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370540457

Philip Mongeau

Philip Mongeau is a retired commercial photographer and copywriter, former senior partner of an advertising production company with offices in Montreal and Toronto. He lives with his wife in Montreal, Quebec and Sarasota, Florida.

Book preview

Forward

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty-one

Chapter twenty-two

Chapter twenty-three

Chapter twenty-four

Chapter twenty-five

Chapter twenty-six

Chapter twenty-seven

Chapter twenty-eight

Chapter twenty-nine

Chapter thirty

Chapter thirty-one

Chapter thirty-two

About the Author

Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;

Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw’d upon;

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,

Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scatt’red in the bottom of the sea.

Shakespeare, King Richard III, I, iv

Treasure destroys peoples’ minds, destroys friendships.

Treasure is trouble and the more treasure, the more trouble.

Bob Marx, hunter of The Maravilla

Foreword

July 31, 1715

Bless me Father, for I have sinned, implored the desperate man clinging to the priest’s sleeve.

Unhand me, cretin! the priest cried as he clutched the lacquered box tightly against his chest.

But Father, we are all going to die. Please, help me go to my Lord in peace.

You are better to hang onto something solid, screamed the priest over the roar of the wind, than to hope the Lord can do anything for you now.

The next wave that breached the deck swept the man away from the priest along the rough wooden planks as he grabbed for anything solid in the path leading into the frothing sea. The priest did not follow the man’s tumbling body with his eyes.

He kept one arm looped around a large cleat at the main mast and pressed his face against the golden crucifix inlaid in the top of the ebony box he gripped. He quietly cursed the bishop who had sent him away to the New World simply because of the relationship he had with his young assistant. Many of his brethren had similar relationships, but only he had had the misfortune of the bishop entering his sacristy while the boy was down on his knees before him.

The bishop had banished him from the kingdom, to live as a nomad upon the seas, accompanying the Spanish treasure fleets that gathered in Cartagena to load gold and silver plundered from the mountains of Peru. His job was to pray for safe passage and implore the Lord to guide them.

To make matters worse, he had brought the young man with him, who had fled upon arrival in Cartagena. He missed the boy so badly. The priest was now alone in this terrible storm with his wet robe slapping against the mast, threatening to gather enough wind in its folds to sweep him into the black night.

He could hear screams of seamen fighting for their lives in the rigging above his head, as they tried desperately to reduce the canvas that was now beginning to shred in tattered strips, acting like bullwhips against those poor souls on the forward mast.

The galleon’s bow plunged down into the next wave as if God’s own hand was lifting it’s stern up in order to drive it deeper into the ocean. The whole hull groaned and creaked, as it would rise up again to meet the next wave, while shedding tons of water flushed across its deck.

Padre Juan Carlos de Bourbon y Kahn continued to cling to the last symbol of his class, determined to take it with him to the next life, the one promised to him for having taken the vow of poverty at his ordination. His wealthy parents had bought him the emerald encrusted golden chalice that lay in the silk lined box that he held onto for life or death. Despite his vow of poverty, the chalice marked him as a man of class that could have speeded his advancement through the Church’s hierarchy, until of course, the incident with his bishop.

The intensity of the wind grew, roaring in the priest’s ears and drowning out all the sounds of screams from his fellow passengers and crew. Trembling with fear, he succumbed to the need to urinate and hardly felt the warm flow trickling down his shaking legs beneath his robe.

The mast to which he held suddenly sheared off just above the cleat he gripped and was flung into the forward mast carrying four able bodied seamen with it. Without the driving force of the sails, the helmsman no longer had control of his direction and the top-heavy galleon began to turn broadside to the waves despite his frantic efforts to turn the wheel to starboard.

Captain-General Don Antonio de Esheverez y Zubiza shoved the helmsman aside and grabbed the wheel himself as his tri-corned hat blew off his head, taking his powdered wig with it. The helmsman had fallen to his knees and slid into the after rail as the captain’s efforts made no difference in the next several seconds as the Nuestra Señora de la Rosa finally rolled over, taking three hundred and twenty-four souls to the bottom of the sea.

As the priest was sucked into the dark sea created by the maelstrom of the sinking galleon, with his mouth and nose filling with the burning seawater, his last thought was to hold tightly to his most prized possession, the chalice that marked his superiority over the souls that were dying with him.

Chapter one

The horizon was unbroken in all directions, though the sea remained flat calm. The only sound came from the steady hum of the diesel engine beneath Peter Magyar’s feet that drove Starchaser towards the Exuma Cays. The depth sounder only read twenty feet beneath the dark blue hull. The sun was high and slightly behind the fifty-six foot sloop and the water was so clear that the boat cast its own shadow on the bottom, as if it were chasing its own shadow, but never catching up.

Audrey broke the silence and looked directly at him with her intense green eyes, Isn’t it dangerous coming this way, Peter? I thought boats were supposed to go around the Yellow Bank.

Peter ran his fingers through his thin graying hair and replied without taking his eyes off the horizon, It’s a clear day and it’s calm. We’ll be able to see the coral heads and go around them. It’ll save us a couple of hours.

The Yellow Bank lay between Nassau and Alan’s Cay, marking the beginning of the Bahamas Out Islands. The vast shallow bank was strewn with coral reefs that had ripped the hearts out of countless ships over the centuries.

Besides, he continued, the snorkeling is great out here. It’s calm enough to stop anywhere we want and we can do a little diving. We might even catch some lobsters for dinner.

Is it safe to dive out here alone, in the middle of nowhere? Aren’t there any sharks?

I don’t think so.

"You don’t think so? That’s not very reassuring." She raised the coffee mug she held in both hands and took a sip.

I think this whole area is too shallow for sharks. These banks go on for hundreds of miles and it’s only 20 or 30 feet deep. Mind you, last time I was at Alan’s Cay, I saw a huge tiger shark swim right by the boat. I could even see its eyes from the deck, but Alan’s Cay is right on the edge of the Exuma Sound, and that’s over a thousand feet deep. I don’t think they come this far away from the deep water.

Well, I’m not too keen on swimming with sharks.

Sharks just got a bad rap. You’re fine as long as you don’t look like a wounded seal, and I can vouch for the fact you don’t look like any kind of seal. Peter laughed and laid a hand on her smooth thigh. "Sharks really aren’t like the one in Jaws."

"You know something, I never saw Jaws," she said, cocking her head and tossing her short auburn hair to one side.

"Come on. Everyone saw Jaws."

It was before my time. I wasn’t even born.

Oh. He took his hand off her leg. Youth, he thought; it was hardly fair. Peter was in his late fifties and Audrey Whidden was twenty-one years his junior.

He stood and looked forward, pointing towards a dark patch ahead of the boat. There, you see that dark spot up ahead?

Audrey stood beside him and looked. Yes. I see it. Is that coral?

Yeah. That’s what we have to watch for. Could you go up on the foredeck and point any out that look like they’re in our way?

You sure about this?

It’s no problem. I’ve been this way before.

Audrey left the cockpit and walked up to the bow pulpit, carrying her tall frame with the ease and grace of a gazelle. She wore an oversized white t-shirt that hung loosely over black satin boxer shorts. The shorts were hers and the t-shirt his. She had taken to wearing his clothes when they were alone together. The t-shirt looked slept in.

Peter watched her with pleasure as he stood absolutely straight with his chin set firmly and his feet spread apart. He gently rubbed his large hands on the fine leather cover of the huge stainless steel wheel until it felt warm to his touch. He squinted in the light that sparkled on the turquoise water. His weathered face looked almost fierce in the refracting light. He felt good.

When she reached the bow, Audrey leaned over the pulpit, then turned and called backwards, I can see my own shadow moving along on the bottom. It’s wild!

Never mind that; watch where we’re going.

Eleven o’clock. There’s coral at eleven o’clock. She pointed her slender arm towards the brown patch.

The clear Bahamian water made it very hard to judge depths, but the coral head glided safely by the port side, appearing to be more threatening than it actually was. With its shoal draft keel, the boat drew only six feet of water, leaving the masses of coral behind. Though some of the coral was reported to be less than three feet below the surface, he felt confident that they would avoid it. Nevertheless, Peter felt more reassured with Audrey on watch at the bow. The brown spots became more frequent and Peter slowed the boat to three knots, turning more often as Audrey pointed out the underwater hazards that kept flowing past them. Within an hour, the coral formations that marked the Yellow Bank became more and more scattered. They should have clear water until Alan’s Cay.

C’mon back now, Audrey. We’re all clear, Peter called forward.

That was awfully warm work, she said as she returned to the cockpit, fanning her face with her hand.

Want to stop for a dip? asked Peter.

No sharks, right?

No sharks. There’s also no wind and the tide’s not running now. We don’t even need to set the hook.

He pulled the throttle back to idle and shifted the transmission into neutral. He shut down the diesel, plunging them into silence. The heavy boat continued to glide forward through the clear water. He folded down the swim ladder over the stern. The rungs dragged through the water creating ripples of turbulence as the boat slowed down to a stop.

Peter kicked off his deck shoes and pulled his shorts off. There was no sign of life in any direction so he didn’t bother with a bathing suit. He removed his shirt last and stepped over the transom.

You coming? he asked.

She pulled his oversized t-shirt over her head revealing firm young breasts. Her right breast was slightly larger than her left, but they looked perfectly proportioned to Peter. She pulled down her satin boxer shorts. She wore nothing underneath.

Peter felt a stirring in his groin. He avoided looking at her for too long.

She dove over the side of the boat before he was completely down the steps. She swam eagerly around the boat even though it had not yet come to a full stop. Peter kept a grip on the swim ladder and scissored his legs behind the slowing vessel. The water cooled his whole body. Audrey swam forward against the motion of the boat and rounded the bow before drifting back towards the stern. She caught hold of the ladder with one hand and wrapped her other arm around Peter’s body.

Her face was wet and sparkling in the sun. Peter hadn’t yet ducked his head underwater. She gave him a cold wet kiss on his cheek. Thank you for bringing me to paradise, She said.

It wasn’t paradise until you came here with me, he replied.

As he spoke, a dark shadow slowly appeared under them. Peter looked down to see a large coral head that looked like he could almost touch. The boat came to a standstill over the spot.

Why don’t we get our masks? he said. There’s some great exploring around here. Maybe even some lobsters.

Sure, that sounds good but you’d better watch out what you dangle around a lobster, she replied laughing.

Not to worry, these lobsters don’t have claws. They’re not like the Maine lobsters we get at home but they do have big sweet tails.

You get the masks, she said, gesturing up the ladder. I don’t trust you behind me. She laughed again.

Aw, I’m not that bad. Give me a break. He kissed her nose.

He climbed out of the water feeling slightly self-conscious about his exposed bottom. He expected a comment. There wasn’t any.

His exposed skin tingled in the sunshine. He took a pair of masks and snorkels from a cockpit locker and returned to the water. They pulled the gear on over their heads and gazed at the silent world beneath them.

Washed by the continuous tides that swept over the Bahamas Banks, the golden mass of coral that lay below them was full of life. It was a complete ecosystem with its own revolving cycle. Sea fans swayed gently in the barely perceptible current and cast soft shadows over the coral formation. Brilliant parrotfish and angelfish and yellowtail snappers moved together in silent harmony.

Audrey rolled her lithe body on the surface and kicked her legs above water to drive herself down towards the reef. Peter admired her beauty and grace that completed the scene before him. Her sinuous figure looked strong without being too muscular as she glided through the underwater world below. He envied her ability to remain down so long, an ability he had lost. She moved with the same ease as the life surrounding her.

Suddenly, her body twisted as if hit by something and she raced to the surface. She broke into the sunlight about ten feet from Peter, pulling her snorkel out of her mouth. He looked at her anxiously.

What’s wrong? he practically shouted at her.

There’s something down there, she replied. I just saw something and don’t want to lose sight of it. I’ve got to catch my breath.

Before he could respond, she took two deep breaths and plunged back down towards the base of the coral head. He watched from the surface as she reached into a crevice hidden from his view. She appeared to be struggling with something. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, she turned and kicked her way to the surface with something in her hand. It left a trail of sediment, obscuring it.

She pulled her mask off her face and lifted the object above her head. Look at this, she cried.

A brilliant golden chalice sparkled in the sunlight. She swam to the ladder and handed it to Peter. The cup and the base were surrounded with emeralds and rubies.

Jesus Christ. This is unreal, he said in a low voice, nearly a growl. C’mon. Let’s have a better look.

Don’t drop it.

He climbed the ladder into the cockpit, maintaining his hold on the cup, barely glancing at the steps. She followed closely behind. They sat naked in the cockpit, holding the chalice together, turning it over in their hands as the gold warmed in the sunlight. A deep radiance burst from within the stones. There was no coral or any other encrustation clinging to the chalice. It looked like it had been freshly polished. The sun shone on the inside, reflecting all around the interior, creating the impression that it was glowing from within. They were both quiet, awestruck by the beauty they touched.

Audrey suddenly broke the silence, My God, Peter. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. Don’t you think it’s wonderful?

Oh yeah, it’s really beautiful, but there’s something disturbing about it in a way.

What do you mean?

I’m not really sure but it’s almost like finding another person. This was awfully important to someone.

Do you think this is part of some captured Mayan or Inca treasure?

No, this is Catholic. It’s probably Spanish. It would have belonged to a priest. No ordinary priest, either. He came from a very rich family. When a priest was ordained, he took a vow of poverty, but his family would often give him a gift of a chalice, which was the last remaining symbol of his class. Even among priests there was a strong class system and the chalice defined his position. Families would spend fortunes on their sons’ chalices. It was like a dowry to a daughter. This guy’s family obviously spent a bundle.

How do you know all these things?

My parents were very religious and they raised me as a Catholic. That was part of the reason they fled Hungary during the revolution in fifty-six. There wasn’t much religious freedom under communism.

How long do you think it’s been down there?

I’m mostly guessing, but if it is Spanish, I’d say any time around the eighteenth century. That was the period where the Spaniards were taking as much from the New World as they could carry by ship.

Oh, Peter. It’s such a beautiful thing. What I can’t understand is that if it’s as old as you say, how can it be so shiny? Look, there’s nothing growing on it. The stones are a little bit scratched, but it looks like it was just polished.

That’s because it’s solid gold. Gold will never tarnish and nothing can ever grow on it. That’s one of the reasons that gold is so valuable. Remember when they used to use gold to fill teeth? It never goes funny in your mouth. But there’s something about this particular piece that bothers me, though. I know that it’s beautiful but it has a strange aura, like we’re sharing our space with another presence. It’s like it were alive and surrounded by bad karma. He felt like having a cigarette, even though he had quit years earlier.

Personally, I think it’s amazing karma, but I want to go back down. There was something else down there.

Like what?

I don’t know but it didn’t look like something growing on the bottom.

Then I guess we’d better drop the hook so we don’t drift away.

All of a sudden, I really feel naked, said Audrey, looking down at her body. I think I’ll put on my bathing suit.

It’s weird but that’s how I feel, too. Could you throw mine up while you’re at it? He knew it had something to do with the effect of the chalice.

She returned from below deck wearing a single piece red bathing suit. She handed Peter a pair of blue boxer trunks. He slipped into them, then walked forward to the bow and released the safety pin that secured the anchor. He eased the anchor brake to allow the anchor to fall freely to the bottom with its chain rattling over the roller. Since it was calm, he didn’t let out much scope before locking the anchor windlass.

When he returned to the cockpit, Audrey was still staring at the chalice, as if in a trance. She looked up at him with wide eyes that beamed like the emeralds. I wonder what it was that I saw down there. I just couldn’t hold my breath any longer. She laid down the chalice and turned to him, Hand me my mask.

You’re not going alone; I’m coming with you. This is one time I wish we had tanks onboard.

Though the boat was equipped with some diving gear, he kept no air tanks onboard. They were heavy and took up precious locker space. Without a compressor to refill them, their use was very limited. He preferred to rent tanks as he needed them. That way, someone else could maintain them.

He took two pairs of fins from the locker. They put on masks and fins and adjusted their snorkels. They stepped over the transom, splashing down into the clear water. They swam around on the surface to reorient themselves then Audrey pointed below to her left. They took deep breaths and dove towards the spot she had indicated.

Peter felt the pressure build in his ears as he descended. He stabilized his inner ears by holding his nose and blowing. The depth was less than twenty feet but seemed much greater.

Audrey plunged downward with great ease, while he struggled to follow. She leveled out at a ledge just before the sandy floor of the ocean and gripped a long straight rusted bar of metal protruding from the reef, all covered with barnacles. It wouldn’t budge. Peter managed to reach her side and grabbed the bar with her. Together they pulled to no avail.

Peter let go and raced to the surface, out of breath. Audrey abandoned her effort and followed him up. He was gasping when she broke the surface. He felt like something was gripping his heart. His chest had a full feeling that frightened him.

This isn’t going to work, he said breathlessly.

I don’t think we’ll get it loose, she exclaimed.

Certainly not without the right tools, he replied. Let’s get back in the boat and figure this out.

I want to try one more time. Just to have a look.

She rolled and plunged once more towards the bottom. She turned in a slow circle near the bottom with the grace of a dolphin then rose back to the surface with natural ease.