Treasure Hunt
Blip blip blip … blip blip blip …
The robotic pulsing of the metal detector crackled and rasped through the morning air like a mobile metronome as the old man shuffled along. Wiry and tall, he had to stoop to keep the device level. A light breeze ruffled his tangled, silver hair and as he walked he periodically reached up and brushed away an errant, twisted lock that obscured his view.
Blip blip blip.
With every small advance the disc swept left to right, right to left, scanning each inch of sand before him. Side to side, again and again, he scoured the beach. If anyone had asked him what he was looking for he would have struggled to answer. All he really thought was that it would be good to find something nice - just once.
Left to right, right to left.
His dog, a shorthaired rusty-coloured mutt darted across his field of vision as it made a beeline for the base of a nearby dune. Sometimes even his dog had a good find. The man’s eyes flitted left and tracked his little companion. Small puffs of sand lifted in the animals wake creating the illusion of speed. The powdered effect disturbed the man for an instant, suddenly anxious that his pet might not return if it kept going at such a pace. And then, almost as quickly the fear evaporated in the soft and was forgotten. His eyes returned to the space in front of his feet. “Come on sand. Show me,” he said to the whiteness. “Bring me something today. Tell me a secret.” Then he chuckled to himself, stopped and looked around for his dog.
Surrounded by the wet barrenness of low tide, it took a minute or so for him to spot the whipping of his friend’s little tail at the top of the nearest dune. “I can keep a secret, hey boy?” he announced to the busy animal. The little dog heard him. He stopped his foraging and gave a low whine in response, then turned back to the work of chasing for clues, his tail up and snout skirting the sand. The old man threw back his head and laughed once, loudly into the salty air, before he started swinging the rod again.
Not too far away, almost in line with the man, the calm surface of the sea was being gently disturbed. Sun glinted off the ripples in the water and caught the tanned face of a woman swimming beyond the reef as she tilted her head and took a breath on each alternate stroke. Her bronzed arms reached through the water in a relaxed rhythm: left, right, left, right. She liked to swim out where it was deep - where gravity and time dissolved in the saltwater. From her position, the man and the small dog were small and indistinct, and moved along the beach like two particles bound together on an invisible path: an electron skirting a larger nucleus.
What was the point? She wondered. She wouldn’t ask though. When she’d seen them that morning from the top of one of the paths that led down through the dunes to the water, she had waited, letting them get well ahead before walking down and going in for her swim. The stranger seemed harmless enough, and the little dog was cute, but why risk it? Everyone had their story to tell but she had no interest in trying to learn a new one. She was only there to swim. The water on her face always calmed her, and it helped her to forget that she couldn’t remember.
Left to right, right to left.
The shiny disc methodically read the beach. Fine grains of sand stirred and shifted in the light breeze, then sank under worn sandals as the old man shuffled along his way. The footprints fell evenly.
Right then left, left then right.
***
Port to starboard.
“Coming about!” the man at the helm announced, as he prepared to change tack and switch the angle of their approach to the island. The bow of the yacht swung lazily to the right as he rotated the shiny steel wheel, taking the strain off the sails. They went limp for an instant and flapped loudly as the boat rolled through the adjustment. An instant later a brisk offshore wind pushed against new canvas and snapped the sails back to full form. It was the precise moment that his wife emerged from the cabin onto the deck. With the sails filled with air and the ropes slack in their cleats, the entire apparatus was free to move and the heavy wooden boom jerked hard and then swung wildly from left to right across the yacht. The next few seconds blew their lives away.
The doctors said it was a truly unique case. They labelled it ‘dual incidence, recurring transient global amnesia following traumatic head injury’. Of course no one could really be sure what had happened but, in consultation with some yachting experts, the couple’s injuries suggested that the woman had been caught unawares by the jibe – when the yacht suddenly rolled on its keel with the quick change in direction, the long boom must have struck her in the head as it arced across the width of the yacht. The force had probably knocked her clear overboard and when her husband jumped in to save her, the unmanned vessel had listed helplessly, then suddenly capsized. The skipper’s injury most likely resulted from the metal mast crashing down on him as he held her up in the water.
Miraculously, the next morning a passing fisherman had spotted the boat lying on its side and, on approaching it, found the unconscious pair lying just above the waterline, held up by the tension of the mainsail. He radioed it in and they were airlifted to the mainland where doctors immediately began a series of operations to bring them back from the brink of death. The woman’s skull had been fractured in several places and the prognosis was poor; the man’s external injuries were less complicated but the bleeding on the brain was severe enough that they had to place him in an induced coma while he recovered. The woman drifted in and out of consciousness in the bed alongside the captain, never quite recovering her senses until on afternoon seven after they had been found. Then they both woke up within hours of each other, first the woman then the man. Neither one could remember a single thing about the accident, nor did they have any idea of who they were, how they knew each or what they’d been doing on a yacht off the coast of Madagascar. Every single detail of their lives was gone. A marriage licence found on the yacht and records of the boat registration revealed that the couple were newlyweds. It appeared that they’d bought the boat in New Zealand recently, at around the same time as they’d got married there. They had named each other as their next of kin on their passports, and the authorities were unable to locate and notify any living relatives.
Months of physical rehabilitation, cognitive training and psychotherapy did little to bring back any lasting memories of their former life together, and the doctors were eventually forced to admit that, not only would the spouses probably never be able to recreate their former lives together, they would both also struggle indefinitely to form and retain new memories. Their resources exhausted and the couple’s medical insurance depleted, once they’d been physically cleared the medical team had no choice but to allow the embassy to repatriate the young honeymooners.
***
The woman stopped swimming and tread water while she rested, enjoying the sensation of the mild current around her. She looked around and delighted in the fullness of the morning. It was going to be a beautiful day and the brightening sun was turning the beach into a grand, blank canvas. The man and his dog were still walking laps just above the waterline, but she was growing tired. She would do one more set back parallel to the shore and then she would have to get out. “Oh well, perhaps they’ll be gone before then,” she thought to herself. She fluttered her legs a little so that she pivoted onto her chest, and started making long, even strokes through the water back towards the headland. As the swells started to form closer to the beach she switched from alternate side breathing to only inhaling on her right side. That was so the occasional wave didn’t break onto her face as she came up for air. She always felt vaguely afraid when that happened, as if she might go under the water and never return, but couldn’t figure out why. She focused on breathing calmly and continued to swim ahead. Then she gradually turned to her right and headed straight in, perpendicular to the beach.
With his back to her now, he had already passed by the spot where she would exit the water. Free of time and obsessed with space, the shorthaired hunter was bounding over the sand ahead of him, criss-crossing an imaginary midline along the beach in a series of twists and cutbacks as he explored every scent carried along on the salty breeze. The man kept his head down for most of his many laps, with only the occasional glimpse for his dog when he wanted to say something or check what his companion was up to. He didn’t notice when his dog suddenly stopped then turned, rooted in the sand, to stare at the woman now wading through the shallows. His tail started to whip from side to side - broad swipes that snapped at the end and sent the thing back just as fast in the opposite direction - left to right, right to left, over and over, again and again. It wasn’t long before a tight wiggle that began in his sinewy butt shook through his little body as it moved all the way up to his greying head. He let out two shrill barks, and then set off down the beach in a flurry of wet haste, churning up the sand and creating a trail for the oblivious beachcomber to follow.
By the time the little animal got to the water’s edge the woman was just stepping out. The sea drew urgent, thin lines around her ankles as the last of the previous wave reluctantly receded back into the ocean. She came closer, shallow pools forming in the hollows where her footprints lingered, until only a thin, winding band of shells and bits of wood and seaweed, left behind on the tide separated the two. The little dog completely ignored the neatly arranged display and bounded straight up her, his whole body twisting and jerking with excitement.
“Hello little fellow.” She leant down to stroke his head, and without a moment’s hesitation the animal leapt into her arms and started licking her face. “Goodness!” She laughed and tilted her head back so that the kisses landed on her neck. “So friendly!”
The hugging and licking and tail wagging must have gone on for a while because the next thing she knew, the shadow of the old man was spread in front of her.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she replied, looking up at him and still holding the little creature. She noticed that he was about her age and decided that he had a kind face.
“I’m so sorry if he’s bothering you. He usually doesn’t approach people he doesn’t know.” The man stared at the woman. Parts of a dream rose up from the depths and almost formed an image, then floated away on the breeze.
“Oh that’s quite alright. He’s such a cutie!” The swimmer carefully put him back down and raised her hands to take off her swim cap. Grey curls flecked with black burst free and tumbled down onto her shoulders.
The little dog was still excited and started doing laps of his own, weaving in and out between their legs. The man looked down at his pet that was behaving so strangely. Then he saw it - on her left ankle, just above the joint - and froze.
She saw the change in him and looking down realized what had captured his attention. “Oh, this?” she laughed and pointed at her tattoo. “You know, it’s quite old now, but I just love it!” She slid her foot forward and turned it inwards so he could get a better look.
Entranced, the man sank down on his haunches to study the image. It was a circle about the size of a bottle cap, and split in half across a horizon. The bottom hemisphere showed ocean waves, the top was the night sky containing a sickle moon and several stars. A close quietness spread around them, interrupted only by the sound of the dog brushing against the two strangers as the man studied the picture.
“Do you like it,” the woman asked to break the sudden silence.
He straightened up and looked at her again. “Oh I… Oh yes, indeed. Very much,” he stammered. “I have… um.” He paused as if unsure whether to go on. Then he held the metal detector he was still holding away from them and let it fall onto the sand. “Here,” he said as he reached down and began to lift the frayed end of his left trouser leg. He rolled the flannel up so that it was about four inches from his ankle. The woman bent closer and he also twisted slightly so she could see it. Faded black ink traced a circle just above the joint, the size of a bottle cap. The lower half was the sea and there was a sun in the sky above it. She gasped and looked up at him, then checked the tattoo again. It was almost perfectly identical. Shaking her head slowly she straightened up until she was looking up at his face again.
“That’s… really incredible, isn’t it?” she asked him.
“Absolutely!” The reply was quick and accompanied by a double lift of the man’s broad shoulders that made him look awkward.
She stared at him some more. Something about that quirky shrug he’d just made. “We haven’t... ,” she began then paused, her eyes closed.
“Yes?” He thought she was almost as beautiful with her eyes closed as she was when she looked at him. The dog had calmed down and was sitting between them now, clearing a section in the sand as his tail swept busily from left to right, starboard to port and back again.
“We haven’t … met before … have we?” She looked at him again, searching his face.
“I think I would remember meeting you, my dear,” he smiled. Another pause.
“Elizabeth… Lizzie.” She put out a small hand. It was still wet from her swim and covered in short, brown dog hair.
“I’m Richard. It’s a pleasure to meet you Lizzie.” He took her hand in his and held it gently for a second but dropped it as a wave of emotion suddenly washed over him. The dog stopped its tail wagging and shot a quick look at his master.
Lizzie noticed the look on the dog’s face and giggled. “I wonder what he’s thinking?” she mused out loud.
They stood and stared at each other for a short while longer and then Richard spoke. “Maxwell’s wondering whether you like tea, and if you’d care to join us for a little cup at our cottage.”
“I do, and I’d love to. Thank you!” Lizzie beamed at him and reached down to give Maxwell a tickle behind his ears, which set his tail wagging vigorously again.
“It’s just over that dune over there,” Richard pointed to a steep embankment partially covered in white lilies a short distance behind her.
“Is it? I live quite near here too you know. Funny that we’ve never met, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I should think so. Quite strange!”
“Just let me collect my towel over there,” she announced before spinning in the sand and skipping away to where a small bundle lay several metres up the beach.
Richard watched her pick up her things and then looked down at his dog. “Well old boy, we’ve certainly had a lucky find today hey?”
As if in answer, Maxwell gave a loud bark and, instead of heeling to his master, he bolted off in Lizzie’s direction. Richard gathered up his metal detector and using his longer strides made sure he got to the path up the dune first. Lizzie fell in next to him on his left when she arrived, and Maxwell raced on ahead, tail up and nose to the ground as usual. They were halfway up the path when Lizzie gave in to a sudden impulse and slipped her hand into his. Richard felt himself blush and the surge of emotion he’d felt moments ago suddenly returned. But this time he didn’t let go. Instead, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and they walked like that the rest of the way back.
***
The next morning Lizzie rose early, fed her canary and then made her way to the beach as usual. She was wrapped up in a thick dressing gown to shield her from the brisk wind. The dawn light showed the choppy surface of the small bay was dancing in blue and white as the onshore wind pulled spray off the white caps breaking over the reef. The air would be cool today but weather was never a reason to keep her out of the sea. She reached the crest of the dune that led down to the beach and stopped. Two shapes down below were approaching and would soon pass by the bottom of the path where she wanted to access the beach. She squinted against the fine sand whipped up by the wind and focused on the beach. She could make out a man and a small dog. The man was holding something long and thin and looked like he was sweeping the beach, but from where she stood it looked too easy and she wondered if he was even touching the sand. The little dog interested her more. She took a bit of time and watched as it bounded ahead of the tall figure, darting left and right, right and left, skirting the beach then circling back to begin its little routine again. Something stirred in her, an upwelling, some feeling she couldn’t place, familiar yet remote. She smiled. She loved dogs. But she had learned to be cautious of strangers. She decided to wait until they’d moved further along the beach before going down for her swim.