Pleasure Beach was an island with miles of sandy beaches that jutted out into the Long Island Sound. It had everything: a roller coaster, a Ferris wheel and lots of other rides. It also had a dance hall where big people went on dates and a long fishing pier, popular with fishermen including grandpa and me.
Today we’re going to search for Captain Kidd’s treasure. Grandpa was convinced Kidd buried stuff in many places as he sailed from New York City to Boston. The radio predicted an early morning low tide and a sweltering hot afternoon.
“Today’s a good day to explore.” Grandpa started. “It’s rained hard all week. A lot of new stuff will be exposed and possibly a buried treasure.”
We set out at the crack of dawn to beat the heat.
Pleasure Beach was a mile from our house.
As we got closer to the water you could smell the salt air. The sun was barely up and the sky was a hazy gray blue. The seagulls appeared to be as happy as us to see the rain end. They were doing somersaults in the sky and squawking more than usual.
The beach would get quite crowded so Grandpa spread out our blanket to claim a spot. I buried our lunch under the blanket because the seagulls here loved to steal. We weighted down each corner with sand so it wouldn’t blow away in the wind. The hard-packed sand felt like I was walking on pavement. . We picked up a pink rock, some scallop shells and sea glass, but no treasure. The further we got from the bridge, the quieter it was. It felt like we were on a faraway island. Tall grass waved lazily on the low dunes. Little black and white birds with long skinny legs darted in and out of the water just ahead of us. This looked like a place where a pirate would bury his treasure.
When I grow up, I want to be an Explorer; read secret maps and discover things the people living there don’t see. Grandpa’s favorite saying is start in your own backyard – and so here I am. “Look!” He shaded his eyes as he pointed up the beach. “Doesn’t that look like something buried in the sand?” Sure enough I could see it too. It was at the water’s edge. It would disappear under a crashing wave and as the water pulled back into the current, it would expose what looked like the corner of something.
“It’s a box, a box!” I yelled as I ran up ahead. I knelt down in the shallows and began to dig with my hands. Grandpa came up with the wagon and began to dig with the shovel. It was larger than we thought. It was a wooden crate about two feet long with a picture of an Indian’s head and shoulders. The words MOPAC PEARS made an arched frame around him. Produce of USA net weight 4/5 bushel on the bottom Modoc Orchard Co. Medford Oregon.
“Oregon?” I asked. “Isn’t that far away? How do you think it got here? How old is this? How much does a bushel weigh?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Grandpa burst out laughing. “All I know is we’re taking this home.” He brushed off the wet sand and placed it in the wagon. “This will be perfect to store the pears that grandma has canned in the basement.” He studied the label. “I think she’ll like this.” “No she won’t.” I grumbled. “She never likes anything. She’s always angry.” I kicked a pebble in the sand.
“Oh, Cookie! You have to be patient with her. She’s been sick a lot. She doesn’t always feel good.” “Yeah, and I hate her dog Scottie; all he does is growl and bark at me.” I kicked another pebble. Grandpa got down on all fours and began to growl and bark just like Scottie would. He bounced up and down like that angry black Terrier. Seeing my Grandpa imitate Scottie was so funny, I fell over laughing. The morning breeze disappeared. The sun was high in the hazy sky and it was getting hotter by the minute. “We better head back to our blanket.” Grandpa reached into a bag in the wagon. “Put this shirt on before you get sunburned.” I splashed some cool water on my arms and back then I put it on. That felt good.
The beach was crowded. The blankets were so close we had to be careful with the wagon. We spotted ours next to some white bed sheets where two young kids were eating watermelon. When we got closer I stopped in my tracks. There, sitting practically on our blanket was Charlie Wizensky, the big fat tub and Tommy Griz, the skinny runt; two kids from my class that I hated more than anything in the world. And then it got worse; the woman with them jumped up when she saw my grandfather. “Paul!” She got all excited. “Is that really you?” She came over and hugged him. “I’m here with my grandson Charlie and his friend.”
“Katherine! How are you? How’s your Charlie? I haven’t seen him in church lately?” They continued talking. I made believe I was looking out at the boats in the water. Charlie and Tommy started singing.
“Mary Terry, Mary Terry where have you been?” They began spitting watermelon seeds in my direction. They got up to get closer. Their grandmother saw this and hollered at them. They sat down and made stupid faces at me behind her back. “Where are you coming from with that wagon?” she asked.
“Oh! we were on a little treasure hunt, we…” Grandpa couldn’t get another word out before the boys busted out in laughter. Tommy began to chant.
“FE FI FO FUM…..Buried treasure… Here we come!” Charlie got hysterical laughing so hard that snots came out of his nose. Just then a woman behind me began to scream.
“That seagull just stole my lunch bag. Quick HELP! My car keys are in there!” Sure enough there was a huge seagull flying low with a brown paper bag in his beak.
I spun around in a flash. I raced toward the water in pursuit of the thief. He was flying over the incoming tide. I was running at a good pace. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Charlie the tub passing me. I couldn’t believe how fast he could run. His belly was jiggling like a bowl of jelly but his head was high and he was pumping his arms as if he was swimming. Suddenly I heard the runt behind me. “Where do you think you are going Mary Terry? Not so fast!” I could feel his hand on my back but I didn’t turn around. I ran faster, keeping my eye on the bird.
The woman was still yelling from her blanket. Charlie was about ten paces ahead of me. The bird kept losing grip on the bag and flying beneath it to catch it before it hit the water. The gull began flying over the sand. I turned to follow the creature in a straight line but now the angle of the sun was directly in my eyes. I could hardly see where I was going.
Suddenly, a ray of sunlight shot down like an arrow directly into a pile of seaweed about ten feet in front of me. Just as I saw that, Tommy Griz pushed on my back so hard that I tumbled head first into that pile of seaweed with my hand smack on where the ray of light had struck. I laid there stunned as the brats raced on. I slowly folded both hands around the seaweed and made my way back to our blanket. I dropped the pile in front of Grandpa and told him what I saw.
Everyone was watching the boys and cheering them on. Then the crowd began to clap. Charlie held the lunch bag over his head. The two boys strutted up to the frantic woman as if they were gladiators who had just killed a lion. She reached into the brown bag and gave them each a 50-cent silver coin. They proudly walked over to Charlie’s grandma, all smiles and flashed the coin. Tommy turned around and stuck his tongue out at me. And that’s when he saw the seaweed.
“OH, is that what you were looking for?” Tommy mocked. “Ohhhh… That’s the treasure you were after?” Charlie’s grandmother scolded them as they began throwing seaweed at our blanket. They were not paying the least bit of attention to her. Grandpa grabbed the blanket and threw it into the wagon, ignoring the brats. We made a fast getaway. We stopped at a picnic table near the fishing pier as grandpa pulled a discarded newspaper out of a garbage pail nearby. He placed it on the table and motioned for me to sit next to him. I had tried to hide my tears but he guessed I’d been crying. Charlie and Tommy had made me so furious I couldn’t see. I was also upset that we never had a chance to inspect the seaweed I had grabbed. Grandpa put his arm around me and kissed my forehead. “I saved it!” He grinned.
“Huh? What?” I looked up at him. He winked at me as he pulled our lunch bag out of the wagon. He unfolded the newspaper and spread it in front of us on the table. He opened up the brown paper bag and dumped its contents on the newspaper. Along with our uneaten sandwiches still wrapped in wax paper was a huge wad of seaweed.
Carefully, we began to comb through the slimy green stuff. There were brown pods you’d pop, tiny shells, some small pebbles, a piece of string, some bottle caps and a little piece of blue sea glass. I couldn’t believe how much stuff got stuck in the seaweed. A mussel sticking out from its tightly closed shell and then there it was; even out of the blazing sun it sparkled.
“Is it magic glass?” I asked as I stared at it. Grandpa gingerly picked it up with his thumb and forefinger. It was the size of a large pea. He held it up to the sky and tilted it back and forth. The object shimmered and flashed as it danced in the sunlight. “Do you see all those flat angles?” He jiggled the crystal so I could see how light bounced onto each surface. “Those are called facets.”
“I think you have a jewel here!” He placed it back on the newspaper. Just sitting there, the light inside appeared to move. Neither of us said a word; we just stared.
“Do you know what I think?” Grandpa broke the silence. “I think an unlucky young lady lost the diamond out of her engagement ring!”
“You think it’s a diamond?” I quickly lowered my voice and looked around. No one was close enough to hear. Grandpa nodded yes and whispered.
“I think it’s a real diamond.” I carefully picked it up like grandpa did and twisted it in the sun to watch light hop from one facet to the next.
“Let’s go home and show your mom the buried treasure you found!” He wrapped the stone in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket.