As the young sailor slid his fingers inside her, she twitched with pleasure and moaned loudly, which was followed by a roar of laughter from his buddies. The sweaty pianist kept playing his quick tunes as the sailor pulled down on her dress and he pressed his lips roughly on her now naked breast. The crowd cheered him on supported by the knocking of their fists on the tabletops that spilled many a beer.

Sailors, they are one of a kind. Rough unshaven types, hard workers and steady legs at sea. Swaying on their support on land, because of the alcohol or simply because it's not their place to be. Well, aside from this bar hidden on the docks, behind a larger fisherman's warehouse, which many call home. They come in with their weeks earnings and leave as daylight breaks with empty pockets and a whore on their arm or with the bruises from one of the many fights that occur here.

Tonight is no different and while many would shy away from such places, you can appreciate coming here once in a while. Less sophisticated clientele perhaps, but less complicated social behaviour as well. One comes as they are and no one gives a fuck. Still you picked a tactical stool at the bar allowing you to oversee most of the bar. From there you can't help but eavesdrop in on a conversation, or a telling rather, as often is the case among sailors...

"... and as the waves bashed in on us, the whole crew helped scooping water from the lower decks. Making a chain, passing buckets back and forth. Everyone was soaked till their underpants. The roughest of sailors, crying for mercy of nature, men praying to gods they didn't believe in and others cursing everything that popped to their minds. It was all to no avail. The ship was doomed."

The man telling the story took a gulp of his beer, spilling some over his chin which dripped on his shirt. With a long stroke of his hairy arm he wiped his face dry. Not clean. Not clean at all. All men sharing his table were waiting anxiously for the sailor to continue his story. All, but one. The other man looked indifferent and you noticed that there was no drink in front of him.

"BOOOM!" The man exclaimed, bringing down his fist on the tabletop with great force.

"Lighting struck the main mast and in that split second that the skies lit up we could clearly see the ravaging waves around us, implanting fear of death in each of us that had any hope of living through this. The unforgiving lake threw us around and supplies where shifting over the deck. One of the younger deckhands got hit by a crate, making him lose balance and fall overboard. Before we had reached the ship's side Lake Michigan had already claimed the first of us."

The sailor halted for a brief moment, and tilted his head up slightly as if it helped him order his memories of what happened, but he quickly continued:

"The captain was furiously working the helm hoping to navigate us away from the storm, but it was a lost cause. 'Save yourselves' it sounded soon through the howling of the wind, but my mind was with the gold, 'save the gold', or it had all been for nothing. When I arrived at the loading deck where the chests stood I heard a gunshot and one of the deckhands fell down in front of my feet.

'What the hell are you doing, Frank?!' I shouted at our expedition leader who stood between the chests, soaked, but with a smoking revolver in his hand.

'They were trying to steal our gold! We dived for it, we risked our lives, it is ours!' Frank said.
'For god sake, Frank, are you killing everyone else on the ship as well?' I replied.
'The waves will take care of that. Help me carry these to the landing boats. The ship is making water and won't make it.' Frank shouted.

Having no time to discuss Frank's murderous behaviour, we started to bring the treasure to the upper deck."

"As we reached the upper deck, the other divers noticed us and came over to help. Fighting to keep our balance we used ropes to pull the chests, heavy with gold, to the landing boats, which had already been lowered into the water. Three chests went in one, two into the others. Frank wanted to abandon ship right there and then.

'What about the others, Frank! We can't leave 'em here to go down with the ship!' I yelled.
But he replied that if we didn't leave now, we'd all be lost to the waves. He went overboard and lowered himself in one of the boats, leaving me and three other divers to choose between a clear conscience and an improved chance at survival."

"BOOOOM!" Another fist forcefully slammed on the table and the men listening skipped a heartbeat.

"The deafening thunder of yet another lightning strike right above us made two of us jump in the boat with Frank and they pushed away. We watched as the waves tossed them around, but quickly they went out of sight in the darkness of the night and the ever pouring rain. A few sailors made it to us and cursed when they realised the other boat was already gone.

'The captain is not coming.' One of them yelled. 'We have to go now!'

And so we went. Overboard and into the fragile looking boat, not sure if it would bring us to land or hell. In the cruel hands of mother nature, we tried to keep the boat upright with paddles and shifting our weight. With each lightning strike we saw less and less of our ship, until we knew it was a submerged wreck just as we had set out to find."


The man continued his incredible story, telling how one of them was thrown overboard in their effort to make land. He told how that nights storm had taken all their energy and played it's life threatening game with them. Everyone at the table knew he had made land though. Dead men tell no tales...

The man finishes his story by telling how they made land by daybreak. The storm had subsided after it's reign of terror on Lake Michigan and they drifted into the shallow waters of Washington Island. The surviving men had jumped in the water and pulled the boat upon the beach.

"There we were. Me, one diver and two deckhands. None of the other crew-members could've survived the horrors of that night. Aside from Frank and the other divers that is. Our bodies and minds were tired so we quickly fell asleep and waked many hours later, deep in the afternoon. We managed to signal a passing fishing trawler who picked us up and the next day we arrived in Chicago's harbour at daybreak."

The sailor - or diver rather, as you know understand - takes a last gulp of beer and stands up from his table.

"Hey, wait a minute. What about the treasure? What happened with that?" asked on of the sailor at the table.

The diver grinned and waited a brief moment before he spoke.

"Without a ship. Without a captain. No money to be paid. We gave the deckhands a few pieces of gold, but had to keep the chest for our investors. We had no idea who those were. Frank was the expedition leader. So we set off to find Frank, hoping he had made land and would show in Chicago. But he never did."


The diver turned around and set off to leave the bar. The people at the table yelled out in frustration what had happened to the treasure. Without looking back, the diver tapped twice with his finger against the side of his head. He found his way through the many people in the bar and and you see the door opening and closing.

 

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