M. A. Nazario
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To iterate all of the legends of buried treasure associated with Suwarrow Atoll can fill a book. That's why James Cowan, in 1936, wrote and published his fascinating book Suwarrow Gold.
I recently had the opportunity to review the author's personal papers at the New Zealand National Archives, and discovered another story to add to the mix.
The prize, sixteen thousand dollars in gold, as near as could be, all stowed in an iron box…
Fifteen years previously – so the story went – a brig owned by a wealthy Spanish-American merchant of Valparaiso had come to grief on Suwarrow's coral reefs. Her owner, weary of the interminable revolutions and other troubles of his Chilian homeland, where neither life nor property was safe for very long, had decided to migrate with his family and his goods to a land where existence would be more secure, if less exciting. From his agent in Sydney he had heard rosy accounts of Australia, where the gold diggings were transforming a raw new country into a rich and populous one, and to Australia he resolved to go. His brig sailed for Sydney. She was an old Nova Scotian vessel, built of soft pine, and in a gale she sprang a leak, which increased in spite of pumping night and day. Being in the vicinity of Suwarrow, the captain determined to run into that lagoon, where he thought he might find a suitable beach on which to heave the ship down and get at the leak. But in entering the passage which led through the reef the brig struck one of the coral knobs which up-jutted there, and became a hopeless wreck, pounded to pieces by the heavy surf.
Mercifully, the crew were able to launch the two boats on the lee side and haul them along the narrow lane of water between the ship and the land, and the owner and his two sons among them managed to get one of their two heavy boxes of gold out of their cabin and up on deck, whence one was safely lowered into a boat; the other slipped overboard and was lost. All hands landed safely, and led a Robinson Crusoe life on Suwarrow for several weeks, watching anxiously for the sails of a passing ship.
At last the owner and the captain and his officers decided that the best course would be to put to sea in the two boats and make for Samoa, 500 miles away. As the boats were small, and barely held with safety the passengers and crew and their water and provisions, the merchant found it impossible to take with him his heavy box of gold. Accordingly he took it by boat one night, with the assistance of his sons and the captain and a trusted sailor, to a small sandy islet which lay on the circling line of island on which the shipwrecked party were camped. There the gold was buried securely in the sand at the foot of a little cluster of coconut palms.The bearings and appearance of the island were carefully noted. Next day the whole of the brig’s people pulled out through the reef-passage to the open sea, and hoisted sail for Samoa. In that group the merchant hoped to be able to charter a small vessel and recover all that was left to him of his solid cash.
But he never lived to reach Samoa. The boat in which he and his family and the captain and a number of the crew embarked failed to make land, and, no doubt, was lost in foul weather. The other boat, in the charge of the mate, reached Apia safely, and, after waiting vainly for the captain’s boat, the sailors dispersed on various trading vessels. All but one, a man who hung about Samoa, doing odd jobs, and ever and always trying to persuade one or other of the Apia businessmen to men to finance him for a treasure-hunt. He was the sailor who had helped to bury the gold on Suwarrow. At last, falling ill, he had given up the idea of trying to reach the isle of gold, and for a few dollars sold his secret to two sailors, [Thomas] Evans and [Oscar] Johansen, whom he had met in a grog shop on Apia beach, they for their part promising him a share of the gold if they ever succeeded in laying hands on it.
***
The Welshman and the Scandinavian had little trouble in finding the islet of the buried gold. The sailor had kept his eyes open that night, and marked particularly the aspect of the trees which tufted the low-lying cay; trees there were just three of them, standing in a cluster, and resembling somewhat the Prince Wales' Feathers – a tall, straight palm in the middle and one somewhat shorter leaning outwards on each side. And as the two gold-hunters pulled across the calm shining lagoon in the dinghy the trading schooner had left them, they cried together: “There it is!” There, sure enough, was the island of the three palm trees, just as it had been described.
Eagerly they landed, and in a fever-heat they sank pick and shovel into the coral rock and sand. Three feet down they found the box. Shaking with excitement, they levered and hoisted it out, and in a few moments they had smashed the lock and were plunging their hands into the golden pile.
Then, in a very simple way, a quarrel arose. Johansen was proceeding to fill his pockets with gold dollars order to make sure of some of the precious hoard, suggesting as he did so that Evans should follow his example; but the Welshman objected and insisted that every coin should remain in the box until they had removed it to the main island, where they could settle the division at their leisure. The Swede resented the Britisher's peremptory manner, and told him so. Evans, very determined, slapped down the heavy lid, and, as the lock had been broken, he passed a length of cord round the box and knotted it. Then he began to drag the box towards the boat.
The Swede, now thoroughly angry and looking dangerous, put his hand on his sheath-knife. The Welshman, in a white temper, leaped at him and planted a blow on the point of the jaw, which sent the foreigner down in a dazed condition.
“That'll teach you to remember I've a second mate's ticket!" he said. "I'm boss here, you Squarehead!"
The sulky Swede had to admit as much, when he rose, and he helped Evans drag the box of dollars down the sand to the boat, which was lying half out of the water on the beach. Just by where she was drawn up the shelf of coral sank very suddenly in a deep hole, a depression not unlike a geyser well in a volcanic country. The water was very clear, and every pebble and every shell on the glistening sea-floor was plain to the eye.
The sailors launched the dinghy before lifting the box aboard, and, wading out, they carried the heavy treasure-case between them and rested it on the boat's bow a moment before stowing it, as they designed, amid-ships. Now[,] however, it happened – whether by intention on the Swede's part or not – the box slipped from the gunwale, and before it could be gripped and stayed, sank into the water on the further side from the two seamen. It slid down the steeply shelving bank into the hollow in the coral, and there it lay, clearly visible, but quite twenty feet beneath the surface of the lagoon.
There the sailors stood, incapable of speech, glaring at each other and at the gold so near and yet so completely out of reach. Then another thing happened.
A great dark razor-sharp fin cut the smooth water, and the men scrambled into the dinghy simultaneously and leaned over to see eyeing them maliciously and hungrily, a huge tiger-shark, monster of the man-eating kind with which Suwarrow's lagoon swarms.
The brute swam round and round the dinghy as the men pulled out reluctantly from the beach. They paused awhile to watch him. He sank into the great hole in the coral and lay there, as if guarding the box of gold beneath him, now and then giving just a wave of his powerful, ugly tail.
Day after day, and week after week whenever the two sailors, now hating each other with the deadliest malevolence, pulled across to the islet of the Three Palm-Trees, they found the great shark there. Once he attacked the boat and bit an oar in two. They fired revolvers at him and angled for him with salt pork on strong swivel-hooks. But he was proof against little revolver pellets, and he was too cunning to take bait. Evans tried grappling for the box of gold with a hook on the end of a long pole, and actually hooked the cord, but it broke immediately [when] he had lifted the box off the ground. He thought of diving; but it was out of the question while the shark – he was three times the length of a man – did sentry-go around the sunken treasure. And one night the dinghy, carelessly beached, was floated off from the main island by the tide, and the gold-hunters were left boatless. From that time on they lived in separate camps, breathing mutual threats of blood slaughter, and wearing their revolvers night and day.
There is not much more to tell. The whaling barque, after many weeks, landed her disgusted treasure-finders and losers at the Bay of Islands, where she called for wood and water and fresh provisions. They went ashore in the one boat, still scowling at one another, and there they disappeared from history.
As for the shark-watched box of dollars, it may be there in Suwarrow lagoon to this day. But it is quite possible that the shrewd “Down-East” skipper of the Gayhead did some very profitable fishing thereabouts when he resumed his cruise.
I recently had the opportunity to review the author's personal papers at the New Zealand National Archives, and discovered another story to add to the mix.
The prize, sixteen thousand dollars in gold, as near as could be, all stowed in an iron box…
Fifteen years previously – so the story went – a brig owned by a wealthy Spanish-American merchant of Valparaiso had come to grief on Suwarrow's coral reefs. Her owner, weary of the interminable revolutions and other troubles of his Chilian homeland, where neither life nor property was safe for very long, had decided to migrate with his family and his goods to a land where existence would be more secure, if less exciting. From his agent in Sydney he had heard rosy accounts of Australia, where the gold diggings were transforming a raw new country into a rich and populous one, and to Australia he resolved to go. His brig sailed for Sydney. She was an old Nova Scotian vessel, built of soft pine, and in a gale she sprang a leak, which increased in spite of pumping night and day. Being in the vicinity of Suwarrow, the captain determined to run into that lagoon, where he thought he might find a suitable beach on which to heave the ship down and get at the leak. But in entering the passage which led through the reef the brig struck one of the coral knobs which up-jutted there, and became a hopeless wreck, pounded to pieces by the heavy surf.
Mercifully, the crew were able to launch the two boats on the lee side and haul them along the narrow lane of water between the ship and the land, and the owner and his two sons among them managed to get one of their two heavy boxes of gold out of their cabin and up on deck, whence one was safely lowered into a boat; the other slipped overboard and was lost. All hands landed safely, and led a Robinson Crusoe life on Suwarrow for several weeks, watching anxiously for the sails of a passing ship.
At last the owner and the captain and his officers decided that the best course would be to put to sea in the two boats and make for Samoa, 500 miles away. As the boats were small, and barely held with safety the passengers and crew and their water and provisions, the merchant found it impossible to take with him his heavy box of gold. Accordingly he took it by boat one night, with the assistance of his sons and the captain and a trusted sailor, to a small sandy islet which lay on the circling line of island on which the shipwrecked party were camped. There the gold was buried securely in the sand at the foot of a little cluster of coconut palms.The bearings and appearance of the island were carefully noted. Next day the whole of the brig’s people pulled out through the reef-passage to the open sea, and hoisted sail for Samoa. In that group the merchant hoped to be able to charter a small vessel and recover all that was left to him of his solid cash.
But he never lived to reach Samoa. The boat in which he and his family and the captain and a number of the crew embarked failed to make land, and, no doubt, was lost in foul weather. The other boat, in the charge of the mate, reached Apia safely, and, after waiting vainly for the captain’s boat, the sailors dispersed on various trading vessels. All but one, a man who hung about Samoa, doing odd jobs, and ever and always trying to persuade one or other of the Apia businessmen to men to finance him for a treasure-hunt. He was the sailor who had helped to bury the gold on Suwarrow. At last, falling ill, he had given up the idea of trying to reach the isle of gold, and for a few dollars sold his secret to two sailors, [Thomas] Evans and [Oscar] Johansen, whom he had met in a grog shop on Apia beach, they for their part promising him a share of the gold if they ever succeeded in laying hands on it.
***
The Welshman and the Scandinavian had little trouble in finding the islet of the buried gold. The sailor had kept his eyes open that night, and marked particularly the aspect of the trees which tufted the low-lying cay; trees there were just three of them, standing in a cluster, and resembling somewhat the Prince Wales' Feathers – a tall, straight palm in the middle and one somewhat shorter leaning outwards on each side. And as the two gold-hunters pulled across the calm shining lagoon in the dinghy the trading schooner had left them, they cried together: “There it is!” There, sure enough, was the island of the three palm trees, just as it had been described.
Eagerly they landed, and in a fever-heat they sank pick and shovel into the coral rock and sand. Three feet down they found the box. Shaking with excitement, they levered and hoisted it out, and in a few moments they had smashed the lock and were plunging their hands into the golden pile.
Then, in a very simple way, a quarrel arose. Johansen was proceeding to fill his pockets with gold dollars order to make sure of some of the precious hoard, suggesting as he did so that Evans should follow his example; but the Welshman objected and insisted that every coin should remain in the box until they had removed it to the main island, where they could settle the division at their leisure. The Swede resented the Britisher's peremptory manner, and told him so. Evans, very determined, slapped down the heavy lid, and, as the lock had been broken, he passed a length of cord round the box and knotted it. Then he began to drag the box towards the boat.
The Swede, now thoroughly angry and looking dangerous, put his hand on his sheath-knife. The Welshman, in a white temper, leaped at him and planted a blow on the point of the jaw, which sent the foreigner down in a dazed condition.
“That'll teach you to remember I've a second mate's ticket!" he said. "I'm boss here, you Squarehead!"
The sulky Swede had to admit as much, when he rose, and he helped Evans drag the box of dollars down the sand to the boat, which was lying half out of the water on the beach. Just by where she was drawn up the shelf of coral sank very suddenly in a deep hole, a depression not unlike a geyser well in a volcanic country. The water was very clear, and every pebble and every shell on the glistening sea-floor was plain to the eye.
The sailors launched the dinghy before lifting the box aboard, and, wading out, they carried the heavy treasure-case between them and rested it on the boat's bow a moment before stowing it, as they designed, amid-ships. Now[,] however, it happened – whether by intention on the Swede's part or not – the box slipped from the gunwale, and before it could be gripped and stayed, sank into the water on the further side from the two seamen. It slid down the steeply shelving bank into the hollow in the coral, and there it lay, clearly visible, but quite twenty feet beneath the surface of the lagoon.
There the sailors stood, incapable of speech, glaring at each other and at the gold so near and yet so completely out of reach. Then another thing happened.
A great dark razor-sharp fin cut the smooth water, and the men scrambled into the dinghy simultaneously and leaned over to see eyeing them maliciously and hungrily, a huge tiger-shark, monster of the man-eating kind with which Suwarrow's lagoon swarms.
The brute swam round and round the dinghy as the men pulled out reluctantly from the beach. They paused awhile to watch him. He sank into the great hole in the coral and lay there, as if guarding the box of gold beneath him, now and then giving just a wave of his powerful, ugly tail.
Day after day, and week after week whenever the two sailors, now hating each other with the deadliest malevolence, pulled across to the islet of the Three Palm-Trees, they found the great shark there. Once he attacked the boat and bit an oar in two. They fired revolvers at him and angled for him with salt pork on strong swivel-hooks. But he was proof against little revolver pellets, and he was too cunning to take bait. Evans tried grappling for the box of gold with a hook on the end of a long pole, and actually hooked the cord, but it broke immediately [when] he had lifted the box off the ground. He thought of diving; but it was out of the question while the shark – he was three times the length of a man – did sentry-go around the sunken treasure. And one night the dinghy, carelessly beached, was floated off from the main island by the tide, and the gold-hunters were left boatless. From that time on they lived in separate camps, breathing mutual threats of blood slaughter, and wearing their revolvers night and day.
There is not much more to tell. The whaling barque, after many weeks, landed her disgusted treasure-finders and losers at the Bay of Islands, where she called for wood and water and fresh provisions. They went ashore in the one boat, still scowling at one another, and there they disappeared from history.
As for the shark-watched box of dollars, it may be there in Suwarrow lagoon to this day. But it is quite possible that the shrewd “Down-East” skipper of the Gayhead did some very profitable fishing thereabouts when he resumed his cruise.







