The big unknown seems to be the obscure treasure hunting group. Seems to me like the Oxford version of the Ivy "Skull and Bones" student fraternity. One guards the skull of Geronimo as their fetish the later uses old pirate maps. Makes sense. But who were they?
Unfortunately, I had too little contact with the file’s owner(s) to obtain any specific historical information. I was told that a number of families were involved and that, ultimately, portions of the file were distributed to each family for study. In reality, I got the impression that after the deaths of the first generation nobody was prepared to trust the family that held the file.
The file, or folio, was termed by them (or the original compilers)
The Particulars and had come into their possession at the turn of the century (c.1900). It was claimed to be an assemblage of documents compiled in the late 18th century concerning a deposit of great value. The earliest document was apparently dated in the early 1740s and it would seem that the file must have been in existence before 1820 because of an appreciation of the contents written in that decade.
It was not an official archive, but seemed to have been an early attempt to assemble anything and everything that looked pertinent to a deposit of great value in some foreign land. I would stress that nobody ever suggested that those responsible were pirates. I deduced from the clues that they thought it was Lord Anson's treasure. However, I never asked and I was never told.
The portion that I saw contained three of the maps, which I was only permitted to see because they'd been published. I did glimpse that the folder also contained a cipher, a document written in Latin and another that contained Greek letters. It was mostly written on paper, but it appeared that there was at least one parchment.
When I was shown the map containing the instructions used by Gilbert Hedden I immediately recognised the outline to be from an 18th century chart of Oak Island. It was then that things started to click into place. I associated what I was hearing with an Oak Island anecdote reported by Josephine Fredea in 1905-6. I outlined this to my contact who was surprised I knew such detail but was contemptuous of my sources and condescendingly corrected and clarified what had actually happened.
My contact explained that with the fragmentation of the file, interest in the quest had faded across the families and successive generations simply weren’t touched by it any more.
I have to admit that I was not particularly taken by my contact due to attitudes we’ve previously been discussing. He revealed that the group went by a Latin name and gave themselves Latin pseudonyms. He did ask me where I’d attended school, and when I told him he observed, “Oh, Grammar School boy.” He was also not impressed by the university I’d attended (English redbrick). They were clearly old-style Public School and Oxbridge types, and I did feel that I understood Wilkins' feelings perfectly.
Apparently, the
Particulars were in two parts that had to be brought together. My contact wondered if I knew anything about the other half. I observed that I believed I knew the identity of the island and the meanings of the seven instruction sets (I knew five, but had worked out that there were most likely seven). He was somewhat surprised that I was aware of how many instruction sets there were, and confirmed the number.
However, he wasn’t fully prepared to accept that the island was not Juan Fernandez and was therefore doubtful that I had the right of it. I told him that the island was privately owned, and suggested to him that the owners might be interested in permitting an exploration should the families be prepared to make the file available to them for study.
He was reluctant, but agreed to consult with the others and later informed me that if the owners were prepared to enter into a contract for full confidentiality and a portion of any treasure recovered they would make the file available and provide personal recollections of previous discussions. I knew full well that Dan Blankenship would never agree to that and, in any event, he never answered any of my letters. When I was finally able to talk to David Tobias he was completely dismissive and also never responded to my correspondence thereafter.
I was informed later of my informant’s death and the opportunity was lost. I’d observe that he always contacted me, he blocked his number and we met in hotels in London designated by him. All very cloak-and-dagger and over-the-top!
I have no idea if I was deceived, or if I'd plugged into some mid-19th century Oak Island hoax. A great deal depended on an assessment of the file's contents, and you might imagine how infuriated I was that secrecy, conceit, prejudice and greed got in the way of that.
As a result, I observed in one of my books that it would seem that it's potentially due to human nature that it's in the nature of treasure hunts to fail.
