Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Using the handles on either side, we carefully pull the chest from the wall and set it on the floor.
For a chest made of solid gold, it feels surprisingly light.
It’s no bigger than two feet and one foot wide.
A loud thunk echoes through the cave as it hits the ground.
I glance at Henry, exhilaration coursing in my veins.
We’ve certainly made a discovery, but what kind, we’ll have to wait and see.
“Bloody hell…you spotted this all from just a flicker of light coming from the wall?” Henry asks, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“I’m just as shocked as you are.” I peer down at the chest, noticing engravings all over its surface, though I can’t make them out clearly. I run my hand along one side, tracing the lines of the etchings.
“It feels like the markings are some sort of illustration, but I can barely make out what it depicts.” I look back at Henry. “What do you think—should we carry it back on board?”
Henry studies the chest, considering. “We certainly won’t figure out what this is while stuck in this cave, and I don’t want to bother one of the locals at this time of day. We can bring it on board to get a better look, then decide what to do with it.”
I peer down at the chest again, skeptical. “Do you think we can both manage to carry this?”
“Let’s see…” Henry says, bending to lift one side of the chest. With surprising ease, he raises it, as if nothing’s inside. “Whoa…I wasn’t expecting this to be so light. We can absolutely carry this to the rowboat with no issues. You can take the other end and follow me.”
I grasp the golden handle and immediately understand what he means. The chest is unnaturally light—almost too light. It doesn’t feel like solid gold, more like some other material entirely. And if it’s this hollow, I can’t help but wonder if it’s empty…or if someone else has beaten us to it.
Carefully, we step out of the cave, our bare feet sinking into the soft sand, and make our way to the dock.
After reclaiming our shoes, we lift the chest onto the dock and approach the last remaining rowboat.
Henry climbs the boat first, positioning himself to balance the boat as we carefully place the chest inside.
With careful precision, we lower the chest into the center of the boat, making sure not to rock it too much. I glance nervously around the boat. “How should I get inside? I don’t want to tip the rowboat or damage the chest.”
Henry offers both hands to me. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”
Slowly and anxiously, I place my hands in his.
My heart leaps as his thumbs encircle my fingers, holding me steady so I can step in safely.
Instantly, my cheeks burn at the touch, and I hope the night sky hides the sudden flush.
I don’t dare look at his face as I climb in.
Doing so might make me fumble and send the rowboat tipping.
Instead, I focus on our intertwined hands, letting them guide me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, daring to look up at him and into those clear hazel eyes.
“You’re welcome,” he replies quietly, his gaze soft and steady on mine.
“Um…shall we sit down on the boat at the same time?” I suggest after a few beats of silence. “We can use our weight to balance each other.”
Henry nods. “Good idea.”
Still holding hands, we slowly lower ourselves onto the seat, releasing our grip once we’re securely on either side of the boat and the chest.
Henry reaches for the oars and begins rowing us back to the S.S Charlotte. When we’re about a few feet from the ship, I wave overhead to catch the crew’s attention.
“We’re bringing up some cargo!” I call once we’re within earshot. “Can you throw down a rope for us to tie it and help pull it on board?”
Shortly, the crew tosses down the ends of two long, thick ropes and waits as we securely fasten them to the chest. Waves rock the rowboat against the ship, making it tricky to secure the chest without struggle.
As I pull each tightened knot with all my strength, a split end of the rope slices my finger, and a small stream of blood begins to flow.
Quickly, I wrap it with a handkerchief from my pocket and fasten the rope into a tight knot around the chest, not wanting to delay Henry or the crew any longer. We watch as the crewmen haul it aboard, waiting for their signal that it’s safely on board before we follow.
The crew tosses down a flimsy ladder for us to climb back on board.
If it weren’t for the ladder’s instability and the gusty sea breeze, climbing wouldn’t seem so daunting.
But knowing this is the only route, I gather my confidence and begin to ascend.
With careful steps, Henry edges closer to me on the ladder.
He reaches out once more, taking my hand and helping me climb from the rowboat onto the ladder as gracefully as possible.
“Thank you,” I muster, using my strength to hoist myself upward.
Henry follows once I’m fully on the ship.
“May I borrow your electric torch?” I ask the crewman beside me, who isn’t using his.
The skylight is now pitch dark, and the only light on the afterdeck comes from the ship’s interior and a few fixtures along the outer wall. With the torch in my bandaged hand, Henry and I can finally examine the golden chest resting in the middle of the afterdeck.
We kneel side by side in front of it. I raise the torch, directing its beam onto the chest. Noticing my bandaged finger, Henry gently brings my hand into his and examines it. “What happened? Does it hurt?”
I pull my hand back, determined to focus on our discovery rather than my injury. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. I cut it while tying the rope earlier.”
A splotch of blood is already seeping through the handkerchief’s material. “It will stop in a few moments,” I reassure him.
I lift the torch again, letting its light sweep over the chest.
We can now see the engravings—figures etched all around. On the bottom, inscriptions appear in what looks like ancient Greek.
“Thank God we have Amina to translate this for us,” I say as I trail a fingertip lightly over the edges of the chest.
I move closer to one of the figures: a muscular man standing upright, a robe draped across his torso, holding a trident.
Next to him is a woman clad in body armor and a helmet, gripping a shield and lance.
Beside her, a man holds a lyre, a halo of light framing his head.
Slowly, it all begins to piece together.
“The etchings depict the Olympian deities,” I reveal. I point to the first figure I examined. “That’s Poseidon, and next to him is Athena, and then we have Apollo.” I stand and circle the chest, examining its other sides. “All twelve of them are here.”
A gnawing feeling creeps up the back of my mind as I study the chest, my eyes tracing the detailed engravings.
An obscure myth about the Olympians surfaces—one only a small group of historians would know—but this is a real chest, so I shove the thought aside.
Myths and legends, I remind myself, cannot dictate this discovery.
I kneel back down next to Henry, who runs his hands across the lid, searching for a way to open it. But all he finds is a smooth, solid surface—no keyholes, no latches, no notches.
“I can’t seem to find a way to open it,” he sighs, gesturing for me. “Please, take a look.”
I scoot toward the chest and run my hands over it, searching for something to pry it open, but I am met with the same results as Henry.
Exasperated, I leave a hand on the lid and shrug. “I’m as puzzled as you are. What do we do with it now?”
“Oh! Careful…” Henry exclaims, pulling my hand away. Where it had rested are now a few drops of blood from my bandaged finger.
“Shoot!” I reach to wipe it, but a strange, churning sound—like a clock ticking—halts me.
Confusion and unease wash over me as I look at Henry. “Is…that coming from the chest?”
He nods slowly, eyes wide with shock, or maybe fear. “I…think so.”
The sound continues for only a few seconds before the chest lid pops open a few inches.
Darkness gapes from within, radiating an ominous aura.
Fear and apprehension freeze me; I imagine Henry feels the same.
We exchange glances, torn between curiosity and caution.
Around us, the wind picks up, the ship rocks, and the Mediterranean waves roar against the hull.
I take a deep breath, trying to muster any courage to open the chest. Slowly, I move my hand toward the lid, and then, in one swift motion, I lift it. Inside, three solid-gold items gleam: a dagger, an amulet, and a wreathed civic crown.
A sudden realization hits me. My heart races, my breathing jagged. Trepidation courses through me as I not only recognize what lies inside, but also know my initial instinct about this was right.
“What are they?” Henry asks, reaching for the amulet.
I swipe his hand away before his fingertips brush the surface. “Don’t touch it,” I say sharply, my voice harsher than intended.
He doesn’t yet understand what these items are, nor the dangers they might hold.
Henry studies me, confusion creasing his brow. “Clara…what are they?”
“We need to gather the others quickly—and get this inside, now,” I mutter, finally facing him, out of breath.
Alarm crosses Henry’s face at the urgency in my voice. “Alright…” he says, his tone hesitant, clearly unsure of what’s happening.
I close the chest carefully.
Henry turns to the nearest crewman. “Can you inform Lord Claremont, Dr. Alarie, and Dr. Baccar that we’ll need their audience in the library in ten minutes?”
The crewman nods curtly, understanding his urgency. “Yes, sir.” He hurries inside the ship to carry out the instructions.
Quickly and discreetly, Henry and I carry the chest from the stern to the library. By the time we arrive, the others are already waiting inside.