THE CURSE OF THE SILVER SEAL

By David Scott

The old wooden boat sliced its way through the sea, plotting a course due south toward the lost ship Anna Marie. Jonathan Moore had been a treasure hunter for years and with some degree of success; in fact he had supported himself solely on his findings.

His hardy crew of five gazed without expression at the vast expanse of water that heaved before them. Their faces were windswept and their hands were callused, yet their souls remained undaunted, and their lust for loot drove them forth regardless of Jonathan Moore's stories.

You see, this was not Mr. Moore's first dive on the Anna Marie; he had been on this quest once before with his lifelong partner Thomas Hues. They too had that gleam in their eyes, that hunger for gold, that passion that makes man a slave of mammon. They too had ignored the legend and lore that surrounded the sunken ship in hopes of discovering a well-spring of riches. They had found the wreck and exposed a silver seal that stated that any man who dare venture near the ruins of the Anna Marie would either die or be forever cursed. When they dove a second time, only one came to surface…and that was Jonathan. His partner's oxygen tank had somehow failed, leaving him prey to the merciless sea.

To that day Jonathan believed the drama to be an accident. His desire to strike it rich extended far beyond the curse of the silver seal. So, with his tiny crew, he looked out over the tossing mass of dark water, and dreamt of the Anna Marie. His movements matched that of the vessel as it crossed the hills and valleys produced by the churning sea. The sun hung low in the western sky, dipping every now and then beneath a rolling wall of water, then returning to provide the final light of day. Tomorrow was to be the greatest day in the lives of the crew, the greatest…or perhaps the last.

The wind beyond the cabin's wall pulsed throughout the night and the crew lay fast asleep. Jonathan remained awake however, poring over maps, double-checking compass headings, and pacing the deck due to his excitement-or was it due to fear? Surely not. Jonathan reassured himself that what happened on his last trip was nothing more than a terrible accident. Finally, he decided that it was time to turn in, for the day ahead was to be a long and hopefully a bountiful one.

Jonathan was on his way back toward the ship's main cabin when something caught his eye. It was a figure standing near the oxygen tanks, yet Jonathan could not quite tell who it was. The wind picked up and licked his face, and he squinted from the salt spay that washed into his eyes. The figure was hunched over with its back to Jonathan and it appeared to be checking the pressure in the oxygen tanks. Jonathan waddled with the rocking boat toward the figure, attempting to pierce the darkness with his tear-swollen eyes.

"Bishop…Bishop, is that…you?" he asked curiously, thinking it might be his first mate.

He moved closer still and repeated his question, the only response being the growl of the sea. Finally he stood above the person and played his hand on the man's shoulder. "Bishop, why didn't you…" At that moment, the figure rapidly turned around and Jonathan staggered back. He was too afraid to speak, too terrified to move. The figure before him was a man who had long since been dead. It was a man that Jonathan knew well…the figure was none other than Thomas Hues himself.

His face was pale, preserved, yet washed white from lying beneath the sea for so many years, and his long wiry hair came to rest upon his bony chest dripping wet with salt water. His eyes were as empty as the sea itself and his gaunt and bony body was hunched over. Thomas Hues' voice crackled as it came forth from his broken lips;

"A sunken ship 'neath stormy sea; a silver seal harken to thee.
Taunting treasure fathoms down; with gold from lands of Spanish crown.
Ignore the lust within your soul; or pay an old friend a heavy toll.
Turn back! Turn back and loot no more; stand safe upon the ocean shore.
If not, old friend, then you must dwell; without a soul in ocean's hell.
A hollow body fathoms deep; a nightmare that is absent sleep.
Harken to the silver seal, or dine well on your final meal.
'Tis best to have an empty purse, because, old friend, the curse is worse…"

The wasted man raised a gnarled knotted finger with a cast-iron evil stare pointed to Jonathan. "Because, old friend, the curse is worse…." He repeated. And with that he leapt over the side of the boat and allowed himself to be swallowed by the sea.

Jonathan stood holding his breath. He had heard stories of men hallucinating after spending too many days at sea, yet this seemed far too real. At last he managed to let out his breath, which stuttered as he did so. Slowly he walked over to the railing on the starboard bow and peered over its edge. Below the black water swirled over the hull of the boat, but as for Thomas Hues there remained no trace.

Jonathan slowed walked back to his quarters. Hallucination or not? What did Hues mean by what he said- "best to have an empty purse…" Jonathan thought aloud. What could that have possibly meant.

In his hammock, Jonathan gently swayed to the rhythm of the sea. Sleep, after that episode, was beyond impossible, and he constantly reassured himself that the entire ordeal was a mere figment of his rather unfaded imagination. Still, Jonathan lay in his hammock patiently awaiting the break of morning light. He stared aimlessly toward the ceiling of the cabin, pondering the past and praying for the future.

The thought of the Anna Marie nearly drove away all his fear. However, in the closet of his mind lurked the memories of the silver seal, not to mention the death and rather blurry resurrection of his "late" friend Thomas Hues. Jonathan, regardless of his fears, finally managed to fall into a spell of deep sleep.

The light from the morning sun stabbed its way through the tiny portholes of the boat. Jonathan, as he had always done in the past, got up, poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and stood on the upper deck. The wind cut through his hair and his boat cut through the icy water below.

Jonathan knew that he and his crew were nearing their mark…he could feel it. Closing in on a sunken ship caused the blood to boil in his veins, and the thought of the gold that lay below in the murky depth, caused his eyes to grow wild with greed. Yes, they were indeed closing in, and his crew was hungry.

At long last, the moment had arrived. The anchor was lowered and the engines were cut; below a fortune awaited. Final checks were made on the equipment, and each man suited up for the greatest of all hunts.

One by one the crew held their mask and rolled backwards into the churning salt water. Their excitement had mounted to the point of hysteria, yet underwater, all was silent and serene.

Down the crew descended toward the ocean floor, spreading out in a rake formation as they dropped. Each man had a particular quadrant of sand to scrape, and each man felt certain that he would be the one to unveil the grandest prize. It was decided that the findings would be divided equally among the crew.

Jonathan drifted weightlessly away from the group. He had been there before and he never once forgot the hot spots of a site -- he had a nose, a sixth sense for gold.

His feet tingled when they touched the sandy bottom. Deep inside his instincts told him exactly where to go, yet also deep inside he remembered the curse of the silver seal. His mouth went dry and his heart thumped. Perhaps he should have taken the seal's warning a bit more seriously, maybe a curse did in fact exist.

Above the rippling sea scattered beams of sunlight desperately attempted to reach the murky depths. Jonathan carried his fear like an uncomfortable pack, yet when he saw a gleaming object protruding from the sand, all fears melted away. Weightlessly, he bounded toward the object, with his greed and lust for gold stamping out all other emotions.

Even from a distance, Jonathan could see that the object was solid gold. Fish swirled about as he drew nearer, and his eagerness forced him impatiently along.

Before his feet, in the sand below, lay a Spanish cross, eight inches in length, six inches across, and three-quarters of an inch thick…solid gold. Its surface was embedded with rare jewels and polished pearls, and even though it was well over two-hundred years old, it still glistened in the broken beams of sunlight. The cross's value was immeasurable, and it was, without a doubt, the greatest find he had ever made.

Slowly Jonathan swam to the surface of the water, never once taking his eyes off the find. He did not even think to look for the other divers to show them of his newly found prize-he simply ascended in a hypnotic trance to where the water met the sky.

The boat bobbed back and forth with a vacant deck. Jonathan pulled himself up the ladder clutching his golden cross. Quickly he removed his wetsuit and began meticulously cleaning the cross's surface. He paid no mind to the fact that the divers still remained beneath the sea, all he cared about, at the point in time, was the cross.

The jewels and the gold mingled in the sunlight and virtually blinded the eye with radiant brilliance. Jonathan continued to carefully clean and scrub the cross, and as he did so, he unmasked a small seal in its center…a solid silver seal. Of course, he immediately recognized the seal, for it was identical to the one that he had found before. Jonathan snapped out of his hypnotic state of mind and re-lived the warnings that were given to him.

His eyes panned the open sea, and then something strange happened. Jonathan raised the anchor, grabbed the spokes of the wheel and slowly turned the boat 180 degrees and aimed its wooden bow for the shores of home.

A crackled voice rang over the drone of the boat's motors, "Tis best to have an empty purse; because, old friend, the curse is worse…"

Jonathan throttled the boat to an even higher speed and focused only on the vast expanse of wealth he now held within his grasp, and never once did he look back. His crew perished in the icy seas above the Anna Marie.

Mr. Moore went on to receive the fame and fortune that he had long since lusted after. He explained to all who asked that his crew had been killed in a violent and sudden squall.

However, one night, while sitting along by the fireplace in his mansion, something strange happened. On the mantel sat a beautiful conch shell that he had found when he was a young boy. Due to his boredom, Jonathan picked up and fondled the shell, remembering how he used to place it in his ear in hopes of hearing the ocean. The old wives' tale made a thin smile cross his lips, and he placed the conch to his ear, yet when he did so the simple smile ran away from his face, and beads of sweat arose upon his forehead. He heard the ocean all right, but he also heard the moans and wails of his crew, whom he had left behind to die. The conch dropped to the marble floor and shattered, but the dreadful sounds of dying men and ocean swells continued. Jonathan covered his ears, but the agonizing sounds only grew louder.

A raspy water-logged voice boomed within his brain, "Tis best to have an empty purse; because old friend, the curse is worse...because, old friend, the curse is worse…" and then the voice broke into a horrible laughter that flooded the corridors of his mansion.

Quickly, Jonathan drove to where his boat was docked and headed through the open water toward the Anna Marie. Jonathan Moore was never to be seen again.


STORY OUTLINE

I. Jonathan Moore is returning to find treasure lost at sea on the Anna Marie with a new crew of treasure hunters.

II. His partner on the first trip, Thomas Hues, had died during their earlier dives for the Anna Marie's treasure.

III. On the trip out to the site, Thomas Hues' ghost appears and warns his friend of the "Curse of the Silver Seal" "Tis best to have an empty purse; because old friend, the curse is worse..."

IV. While the crew is diving on the site, Jonathan dives off the one side and finds a large gold cross which he brings to the surface.

V. He startups the motor and leaves the crew behind, to perish in the ocean.

VI. He becomes wealthy from his treasure, but one day while listening to an old sea shell, he hears the moans of the drowned crew members.

VII. He takes his boat back out toward the Anna Marie, never to be seen again.