Beachcomber Lily discovers a ring in the sand and imagines the possibilities of its origin and value as she tries to unravel the SECRETS of the SEA.

Secrets of the Sea

a 1,407-word short story by Duane M. Engelhardt

Copyright 2024©

The morning had been quiet, uneventful so far, as Lily scanned the beach hunting for lost and neglected items that had a way of burrowing like sea creatures into the sand. The pulsating beep told her that something lay beneath the surface and after some digging, she uncovered a ring. It was much heavier than she thought it should be and guessed, judging by the size, that it must be a man’s ring. 

At the surf line the beachcomber held the ring in the palm of her hand, letting the sea gently wash away the sand as she gave it a serious examination. It was gold, she was sure of that, it had an inscription on the inside of the band and the outside was pitted with nicks and scratches that she mistook at first glance as imperfections on the surface but then realized that they might be some sort of hieroglyphics, symbols of a different age, a different language.

Lily was sure that the inscription on the inside was Spanish, or Latin, or Italian which caused her to daydream of finding a piece of treasure, maybe from a pirate schooner that may have sunk offshore. There were plenty of stories of how early pirates had come ashore, buried treasure, and set up camps that would become seaside towns. Later buccaneers would hide here from the British during the Revolutionary War, smuggling weapons and causing havoc as they became the country’s first naval heroes. Her mind raced with the old tales she had grown up with and now she was sure that she was holding a piece of that fabled history in her hand. 

Wiping the ring with a towel Lily placed it into a specimen bag which was tucked into a special pocket of the waist pack she used for such things. Her mind raced through her checklist of what needed to be done, take pictures, check the internet for similar finds, cataloging, comparing, estimating value, contacting experts, museums, and auction houses. All the usual tasks associated with a bona fide find. 

On pilings that made up an abandoned jetty that ran out to the sea, Lily sat, rested, kicked at the damp wood covered in bulbous green seaweed. “Sea snot,” she laughed to herself as it brought back memories of childhood. Sandcastles, picnics, riding waves, diving off the pier, summer days swimming in the ocean. The beach was still, quiet, barren, with a few early risers who had started to drift in to claim spots for umbrellas, blankets, chairs. Sandpipers in a game raced back and forth against the waves in an impossible quest to remain dry as they searched for food. For the longest time she watched as the water slipped ashore, each time trying harder and harder to reach further inland as the tide snuck in. 

The water flooded her beach shoes, sucked her feet into the sand, and yet it felt comforting, grounding her to the seaside in a familiar way. Waiting for her moment she stood and walked back to the beach where she had left her metal detector and backpack. 

A small crowd had gathered as a surf fisherman had begun to set up and was arguing with some beachgoers over who had rights to what and where. Seagulls encircled the commotion and wandered in among them adding their comments to both sides of the complaints. Chased by a young girl in a blue-green shirt with the faded picture of a mermaid they flew past Lily, her thoughts on the ring, a gentleman’s ring, she determined. Was it forcibly removed from the owner’s hand and finger? Was he stubborn and proud, or was he contrite, this unintentional guest of the pirate captain? Held for ransom at the whim of his captors or dispatched to the deep as an uncooperative captive? She slid the piece of metal from its plastic bag and held it up to the blue sky. 

Latin. It had to be Latin. And those scratches? Not scratches. Symbols? Etched. Engraved. Her mind whirled, zoomed in and out of wild imaginings. Masonic? Hebrew? Arabic? Demonic? Lily wiped the ring clean again. Out of the sand, the sea, the ring dried to a matted gold finish showing age. “Respectability,” she whispered aloud and then used it to frame and encircle the daytime moon, the waning lunar orb’s circumference was barely able to fill the opening of the ring. 

Had the owner looked at the sky through the ring? Or maybe he handed it over to soothe a precocious child irritated at a long sea voyage who attempted to capture the moon the same way Lily had tried. Discontented, had the child tossed the ring overboard? A treasure lost at the whim of bad temper and earth’s elusive satellite. 

Weighing the ring in her hand she sighed, “Still could be pirate treasure.” Lily slipped it on and off her fingers and admired it at arm’s length as the sun captured the design of the gold. “It must be worth some money, maybe priceless,” she mused. “So many things I could do with the money. Ah, or my name listed as the collector who donated it to the museum.” Her face lit up with a content satisfied smile. 

It was a gull, a seagull that caught her attention as the wave rushed toward the shore. The seagull had circled around and now tormented the trespassers, the occupiers collected on the beach with its distinctive screeching and screaming. Evading their flailing arms and yells the winged raider hovered overhead flying in among the crowd heckling them only withdrawing as a burst of wind ambushed its flight. 

Taking advantage of the distraction, as if determined to reclaim what had been taken, the wave crashed against the beach, wrapping up Lily in tentacles of seawater and sand tumbling her in the surf. And then it was gone. Retreated home to the sea. 

The world stopped. Surrounded by faint echoes held back with a muffled silence, Lily gulped in dry air, her vision blurred by the saltwater dripping from her hair. Sitting upright on the hard-packed sand, she cleared her head with a quick shake and then caressed her fingers. There was nothing.

From deep within Lily felt the scream, at once it sounded like her voice, it sounded savage like an animal, the noise welled up, expanded and seemed to reach out and go on forever. In a frenzy, on her knees she crawled about, scouring the sand now worn smooth from fresh waves. Empty-handed, unconvinced, she examined her hands as if it were possible that they were somehow in some way concealing her lost treasure. 

Sitting on the sand Lily ran her fingers through her wet hair, pulling it away, out of her face, her eyes. Trembling, alone against the vastness of ocean, the sea, she wanted to cry, wanted revenge, requital. 

A well-worn stone smoothed by the action of the waves found its way into her fingers and without apprehension she aimed for the lone seagull squawking on the jetty. The rock landed harmlessly in the sea as the gull mocked her for the attempt. 

Lily let go a long-drawn-out breath as thoughts danced around the images of fame, fortune, luck, pirates, and the faraway moon when another stone arched up and plopped into the water. The thrower, the young girl in the faded shirt, smiled, cocked her head and with a scrunched-up face looked quizzically at Lily. “Okay?”

“I’ve lost something.”

The girl nodded in understanding, acknowledgement. “I lost something once.” There was a pause. “Was it precious?”

“It was.”

“Like a shell? I lost a seashell once. I cried. My dad said not to be sad because it really wasn’t mine.” Shrugging her shoulders, the girl continued matter-of-factly, “It gets better. I can do a summer salt.” She bent down and tumbled forward.

Lily applauded. “Very well done.”

A seagull squawked and the young girl in the mermaid shirt chased it away. She returned triumphant, smiled, sat beside Lily in the sand and the two looked toward the horizon. The water was calm, peaceful, its surface reflecting the bright triangle of the rising sun. On the beach behind them the muted sounds and voices of beachgoers mingled with the waves and the cries of shorebirds. Around them the sandpipers avoided the crash of small waves acting as nature’s seawall, a barrier between the beauty, the secrets of the sea, and discovery. 

Originally Published by The Rappahannock Review. (Fall 2024)

https://rappahannockreview.com/issue-12-1/contents/fiction/duane-engelhardt/

CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT:
Interview with Duane M. Engelhardt