Treasure hunting is a lot like sticking your hand in a bowl of piranha and hoping to pull out a goldfish. I've never caught a goldfish, but I have yet to lose a finger. I have a warehouse full of nick knacks and whatnots that may be of value to someone, so I have decided to Auction off what has little to no value to me or the Historical community as a whole in hopes that someone out there has a want for derelict ship furniture, or practically anonymous letters.

The following are some of the first items I found. While diving off the coast of South America, I found the wreckage of a schooner. There was not much left to the ship, most had been carried away by the tides of the Horn. The Keel was relatively intact; it had become the home of more than a dozen different sea creatures.

I found a wax lined tube, I was sure I would find something of great value, some long lost Picasso, an original copy of the Colonies Declaration of Independents, or maybe a lost book of the Bible. It was however nothing more than a set of letters, correspondents between a captain and what I believe to be his sister-in- Law. Thank you for your interest and I hope you enjoy it.

February 1847

My Dear Sister Mary Ann,

I know I promised a letter from California to tell you of our trip, and to tell how Kristoff fared on his first long journey. We had a fast turn around and a few issues that required my full attention. It was not until Kristoff was bragging that he had sent you a letter that I realized I had failed to send you one myself. Based on the writings he has shown me; I am sure you will receive a well-written letter. He almost assuredly told you we had a few storms, but nothing too dangerous. Just a white lie to appease his worrisome mother, because I promised to tell you the truth.

The sea was against us the entire trip, crosswinds and squalls, scurvy, rotten food, sickness, and a few deaths. There was a day I wondered if we would make it to a safe harbor. I tell you all this not to frighten you but to set a scene, so you will understand how your son helped keep us on course, how he saved us.

You often commented on Kristoff's jovial attitude, his ability to turn even his father's stone face to a smile. If only for that, he would have been a godsend, but his bravery did not stop there. You have heard me tell of the Horn, the southern tip of South America, of its storms and cross currents. I myself have seen a ship lost to its torrent, its planks torn from beneath my very own feet. I told you and Kristoff those stories, after Lars was lost at sea, in hopes of discouraging him from following the trade of his father. Unfortunately, as you know, much like his father, the call of the sea was greater than the call of common sense.

We had sailed wide, I hoped once we drew the sails the Pacific current would pull us around the Horn, as it had done many times in the past. It was just past dusk, another ship set upon us, the night watch caught sight of them just in time to sound the call to arms. However, it was Kristoff who roused the crew before the bell. With his sharp eye, quick thinking, and unwillingness to back down that saved the ship.

The daughter and wife of a sailor, and if I recall correctly, you even had young Kris on the voyage across from Europe, you know the greenhorns have to leave their land name at the dock. They are worse than the rats we toss overboard, never part of the crew until they have earned their sea name and been baptized in waters that do not touch their home. Well, I am proud to tell you if he has not already that young Kristoff earned his place on the crew as more than just my nephew, he is now Macaco. Bento, my Portuguese first mate, tells me it means Monkey; I guess we have to trust him as none of us speaks the language.

***

22 June 1847

I put a break here to separate this from the previous part of the letter. Since I have written the above, tragedy has befallen the ship, six crew dead, with the losses on the first trip I have had to conscript passengers to keep the ship sailing, they are not happy. Last night while most of us slept, Bento, my first mate at the helm, thought he could circle around a storm. He was dead wrong. The storm seemed to dance, and as he attempted to move east, it cut him off and before I was woken by the ship listing dangerously to port, we were in the thick of it. More than once, while I stood on deck, I saw waves that could have swallowed the ship whole, when one broke to our starboard Bento was swept aside and lost to the sea. Knowing I needed a second hand on the wheel Kristoff appeared instantly and was a great help in keeping the ship alive.

The fool Bento had let the men lax on their duty and the lanyards holding the mainsail started to unravel. Before I could call a hand to secure them, Kristoff was off in the rigging. He single-handedly re-furled the mainsail. Suddenly the dark sky lit up brighter than noon sun, as lighting danced on and around the mast. I feared the worst, as my eyes adjusted, and the lightning died. I saw the silhouette of Kristoff clinging to the yards waving down to me. I motioned for him to get back to the deck, and then it happened.

One flash of lighting I could see Kristoff making his way across the quarters, then seconds later, the next flash he was gone. The yards broke off, he was killed, I am sorry. I know I can be no consolation; you have now lost both your son and husband to the sea, I want you to understand, your son saved us all not once but twice. The loss of your one has saved many. I understand if you do not write back. I have taken your son, and for that, I am truly sorry. My love and condolences,

4 August 1847

Captain Fuchs,

My dear Aurel, you have no blame in the tragedy that befell my young Kristoff any more than I, or his father before him. I knew the day he was born Kristoff would follow his father; I had only hoped he would not follow so quickly to the grave. Thank you for the kind letter, and the time you spent with him, the months on the ship you helped him realize more about his father, and his love for the sea. I have enclosed a copy of the letter he sent from California. I hope it will help give you the closure you need to stop avoiding me; I have lost a son, and a husband. Please do not also make me lose a friend.

Thank you,

2 January 1847

Dear Mother,

We have made it to California, the Monument is a great ship,

it seems to ride above the rolling seas, and its sails catch every

gust of wind. I now have a better understanding of why Dad

would spend so much time at sea. Over the years his comings, so

short, and his goings, so long. It seemed like just as we were

getting close, he was gone. It was long enough to show what I

could be, and sometimes when the wind blows right, I feel his

spirit fill my body.

When we set out from New York Uncle Aurel, well I guess I

should call him Captain Fuchs, wanted to keep my relation to

him secret. Hoping the men would accept me as just a greenhorn

and not his nephew on top of that. I got a week of being the

greenhorn, well only a greenhorn. Suddenly they stopped

calling me names, stopped making me work alone, or do all the

bad jobs. It seems one of the passengers recognized me as your son,

which led directly to the crew figuring out I was the Captain's

Nephew. In a way, things got worse. They treated me as if I was

just a passenger, as if I could not get my hands dirty. The

captain wanted to call them out and tell them to treat me as

any other hand. I refused knowing that is not how father would

have wanted it done. I could almost hear him tell me, if they

deal you down and dirty in a way you do not deserve, you will

feel better if you take it like a man. If you let them drive you

crazy, boy, they win. Shake it off and get licks in when you

can because the heart is all that matters in the end.

I tried Mother; I tried for weeks to make them see I was there to

work not be my uncle's nephew. It was late one evening, I was

not on watch, they never let me take a night watch, they

thought I needed beauty sleep, I saw the glint of metal ahead. I

told the watchman, a man called Old Shote, what I had seen.

He just told me to get some sleep, aint many ships out this far

and I was seeing things. At first, I wanted to go tell Captain

what I had seen, but figured that if I did, they would say, I was

just ratting out Old Shote. I decided to do what I thought Father

would do; I roused a few of the men.

The first person I came to, Willie, turned red when I told him.

Started yelling at me, said he did not care who I was, I should

never wake a hand unless told to by a senior. I stood up to him,

well as best I could, he was a head and a half taller than me,

and twice as wide. Looked him in the eyes and told him, there is

something on the waves coming our way and he could yell at me

or rouse a few more boys and see what is coming. He bellowed

that if I were wrong no family relations would save my hide.

Just as we got back on deck, Old Shote rang the warning bell. A

dark sailing ship was just off our port side with about six men

with hooks and daggers in hand. Willie and the three men he

woke, did not spare a second. In unison they all bellowed

'Pirates!' and like a well-rehearsed dance they sprang into

action. One darted to the Stern and began reading the small

cannon mounted on the deck. One barreled down the stairs to

wake more men. Willie and the last pulled pikes from a rack

around the mast.

I followed Willie, grabbed a pike, and along with the other

braced ourselves for the attack. Torch light started pouring from

below deck, each man carried with him a hatchet or short sword.

By the time the other ship had closed the gap the entire crew was

rallied, armed, and ready to defend the Monument. For a long

and silent minute, the ships sailed side by side.

Then suddenly a loud boom shattered the silence, a chain-shot

tore through the dark sails of the other ship. As if that was the

call to begin, ropes with hooks crossed the dark, The Monument

men began chopping the mooring lines, Captain fired the

cannon again. The chain-shot took the mast down and the

other ship lurched, and started to fall behind.

Suddenly a man appeared before me, I do not know where he

came from, he took a swipe at me with a knife, and I froze. I

closed my eyes, listened, in that I could hear Father's voice on

the wind. Endings always come too fast; they come too fast but

pass too slow. As the knife raced toward me as inevitable as the

tide, the man seemed to jerk, his face contorted and he dropped

the knife, and then crumpled to the ground. Willie stood over

the body; he gave me a slight nod, and returned to defending the

rest of the ship.

We sailed the rest of the night on alert, the ship never returned.

We did not lose anyone and there was only minimal damage to

the ship. The captain decided to wait till we put in next to

make repairs, so the next day was spent slowly crawling along

the coast as we slept.

The next morning, I was assigned to swabbie, I got to mop the

deck. It was the first day since my secret came out, I was given a

real assignment, I was a greenhorn again.

The last few weeks have been great; I have blisters on my hands,

and bruises on my knees. After a hard day's work, I sat with the

rest of the crew and heard them tell stories of 'Sturm,' a sailor

many of them had sailed with, they all revered him. The stories

of this sailor, this 'Strum’, some of them sounded familiar, when

I asked the men who he was, none of them knew his real name,

or a ship that he sailed on.

One evening, I was eating with Captain, and I told him about

one of the stories I had heard with the crew. I asked him if this

'Strum' was real. The low laugh that rumbled in Uncle Fuchs

seemed to shake the table. He finally told me, as you may

already know, that the 'Sturm' was father.

Most of these men never sailed with father, yet they all spoke of

him as if he were their friend, as if they had pulled line with

him personally. After the trip out here, all those months on the

boat, I understand why he kept leaving us; I understand why

he always returned to the sea. I can feel it now, there is

something about standing next to a man who has your life in

his hands, something about having someone depend on you to

trust his life in your hands.

I know you did not want me to come, but I am grateful you did

not make me stay home. I know my father now. He always told

me his heart lay in me. I hope to make him proud.

I will see you soon, weather permitting.

Love you,

Kristoff