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Ghosts, surfing, lost treasure and the colourful history of Amelia Island, Florida, set the stage for Surfing Treasure’s Wake, a fictional novel.
Its 1715 and the Spanish galleon, the San Miguel is caught in a hurricane off the south end of the island. Black water washes across the deck as crew members lash themselves to whatever they can. Isabella Rojas and her six children desperately pray for safety. She ties herself and each of her children to a single rope before being washed overboard. Each child drowns, finally pulling Isabella under the stormy seas where they rest, waiting to be released from their watery graves.
Marc, a sixteen year old, while surfing, sees the ghost of Isabella and tries to solve her legend. If he can find her golden medallion, Marc can release their souls and will be rewarded with something greater than gold or silver. But, what Marc desires most, is to reunite with his estranged father who abandoned Marc and his mother after a tragic event in which Marc, trying to protect his mother from his father’s violent rage accidentally slashes him with a bread knife. Marc struggles with his feelings of responsibility for his father’s leaving.
Marc is also haunted by a dream of a murdered Cavalry trooper and a buried tin box full of gold bars, the same box that his estranged father is also looking for somewhere around Casa Grande, Arizona.
Will Marc solve the legend of Isabella Rojas and be rewarded with his father coming home? Or will Marc be rewarded with something even greater?
Chapter 1: (Excerpt)
Six children and their mother, lashed to a rope, drowning, dragging the next into watery darkness. Angelic faces contorted by terror, fading into the cold black abyss. The mother tries desperately to fight the increasingly cutting weight around her waist. Her round beautiful eyes look up. Lace covered arms reach for the surface; her mouth, silently pleading to God for help. The bubbles rise as she follows her doomed children to their deaths; her precious golden medallion of the Virgin Mary, sinking beside her.
A dream, that’s what it was. Just a bad dream Marc thought, remembering last night s sleep as he paddled his surfboard into the cool morning air, across the grey mirrored water.
It was the morning after Marc s sixteenth birthday. He straddled his board, waiting for his first wave to roll in when the apparition appeared. She materialized from the early morning fog that sometimes hangs off the Florida coast, just beyond the early morning swell. She seemed to glide from the thick fog as if she was being carried along on some unseen platform. Her lace dress flowed behind trailing white silken streamers gently carried on the stagnant air. She glided still closer to him. The virus of fear began to invade his body. He didn’t know what to think or do.
Marc thought he smelled the sweat fragrance of Jasmine instead of the salty scent of the Atlantic. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from her. He couldn’t make out her face. All he could see was a smear surrounded by stacks of penny curled red hair and white lace.
She moved still closer. Marc felt he could almost reach out and touch her. The sweat fragrance began to overwhelm his nostrils. Then she stopped. Marc froze like a statue. Only his eyes moved, tracking her like a predator. She raised a long thin alabaster arm and then, like a water glass falling from a table, dropped her hand and pointed a long bony finger down to the water. She turned and glided back into the fog, slowly disappearing. The cottony mist first surrounded then engulfed her, she was gone.
Stunned, Marc sat there. Slowly, he began to feel his body come back to life. Surfing was definitely out of the question. He was just too freaked out.
Maybe the old Mexican witch was right, Marc thought, breaking free from his fear and beginning to rhythmically paddle back to shore and safety. Maybe it was true what that old crone spit out through stained and broken teeth that his destiny would be pointed to him by the spirits. This wasn’t the first time he’d been told to listen to them.
Chapter 19: (Excerpt)
Marc set up for his last ride and caught a rogue fifteen footer. It was huge. He made the drop and cut left. As he screamed along the face, his back mere inches from the monster wall; he lost his balance and fell. He tobogganed down the face until the wave carried him back up then body slammed him down. He couldn’t tell which way was up.
Finally, he was able to get back to the surface only to find that his new board had snapped in half. He was too far south for Garth to get around the corner of Bird Island. The waves were just too huge and wrapping around the island s corner. So, Marc swam, using his broken board as a kick board as the waves continued to crash around him.
It was becoming hard for Marc to swim. Every few yards he struggled, was met with yet another wave, chaos and backwash as the water tried to find its way off the beach. Marc realized he was caught in a rip tide, a bad one. He knew he had to swim parallel to the beach or risk being swept out to sea. But, he was tired. His half surfboard just wasn’t enough. Marc s arms felt like lead weights. His legs began to burn. Another wave crashed on him and pushed him under. He tried to fight to the surface as his energy drained away.
So, this is it, Marc thought, panic fading to be replaced by a sense of calm. He knew he was drowning. And he knew Garth couldn’t see him as the waves obscured Marc s view of the channel. Images of his mother, father and Bob flashed through his head as his last breath finally escaped his burning lungs.
Suddenly, he felt someone grab him from below. As his last breath bubbled away, Marc opened his eyes and looked down. There, beneath the water, he saw someone about his age, pushing him up! Marc s vision began to fade just short of blacking out. He broke the surface, gagging and coughing, sucking fresh air back into his lungs. After a moment he regained his senses and felt his energy return. He immediately put his face under water and opened his eyes.
There, Marc saw a young man of about eighteen. He was slowly sinking to the bottom, arms reaching up as if to say, save me. Marc knew he’d just encountered the last ghost child.
When Marc made it to Bird Island, he dragged himself up on the beach and flopped down, feeling the warm sand through his chilled body. He sat up and looked out to where Ryan had caught a huge right. Marc marvelled as he watched Ryan chew it up. Ryan finally dropped back down on his board and sledded into the channel where Garth picked him up.
Marc guessed that Garth would come across the inlet to get him shortly, after he’d dropped Ryan off with Pete.
After a short rest, Marc tore open his Velcroed leash, picked up his broken board and began walking along the edge of the island, towards the inlet.
As he walked, be couldn’t help looking at the tremendous waves still pounding in. He imagined seeing himself cut and slash the huge walls of water. His earlier brush with death faded from his mind to be replaced by thoughts of surfing and Isabella. Then something caught his eye. It was shiny. But, Marc couldn’t tell what it was from this distance. Marc looked back, over his shoulder, at the place he came ashore. With a start, he realized that the spot he almost died was the exact spot where he and Bob had found the shoe buckle and toy cannon. It was the same spot where he saw the last ghost child. He knew what lay before him, buried in the sand.
Marc ran over to the shiny object and pulled it from the sand. It was almost completely encrusted with centuries of sediment. But, one corner was exposed. Examining the object, Marc saw a few worn letters. Latin, he thought? He rubbed the exposed area. A blue sapphire and green emerald caught the sunlight and exploded in brilliance. He’d found the medallion...
