“Isn’t there the wreck of a treasure-ship somewhere farther west?” I asked. “We heard of it at Wangeroog” (my first inaccuracy). “They said a company was exploiting it.”
“Quite right,” said the Commander, without a sign of embarrassment. “I don’t wonder you heard of it. It’s one of the few things folk have to talk about in these parts. It lies on Juister Riff, a shoal off Juist. [[See Map B]] She was a French frigate, the Corinne, bound from Hamburg to Havre in 1811, when Napoleon held Hamburg as tight as Paris. She carried a million and a half in gold bars, and was insured in Hamburg; foundered in four fathoms, broke up, and there lies the treasure.”
“Never been raised?”
“No. The underwriters failed and went bankrupt, and the wreck came into the hands of your English Lloyd’s. It remained their property till ’75, but they never got at the bullion. In fact, for fifty years it was never scratched at, and its very position grew doubtful, for the sand swallowed every stick. The rights passed through various hands, and in ’86 were held by an enterprising Swedish company, which brought modern appliances, dived, dredged, and dug, fished up a lot of timber and bric-à-brac, and then broke. Since then, two Hamburg firms have tackled the job and lost their capital. Scores of lives have been spent over it, all told, and probably a million of money. Still there are the bars, somewhere.”
“And what’s being done now?”
“Well, recently a small local company was formed. It has a depôt at Memmert, and is working with a good deal of perseverance. An engineer from Bremen was the principal mover, and a few men from Norderney and Emden subscribed the capital. By the way, our friend Dollmann is largely interested in it.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Davies’s tell-tale face growing troubled with inward questionings.
“We mustn’t get back to him,” I said, laughing. “It’s not fair to my friend. But all this is very interesting. Will they ever get those bars?”
“Ah! that’s the point,” said von Brüning, with a mysterious twinkle. “It’s an undertaking of immense difficulty; for the wreck is wholly disintegrated, and the gold, being the heaviest part of it, has, of course, sunk the deepest. Dredging is useless after a certain point; and the divers have to make excavations in the sand, and shore them up as best they can. Every gale nullifies half their labour, and weather like this of the last fortnight plays the mischief with the work. Only this morning I met the overseer, who happens to be ashore here. He was as black as thunder over prospects.”
“Well, it’s a romantic speculation,” I said. “They deserve a return for their money.”