When I was told that the city at Argo Bay had streets of gold, I started making a list of everything that I could afford if only I could pull it all up from the ocean floor. The Gilded Leviathan has set anchor a few miles off from the cliff that overlooks the Bay today. A few of the boys and I took one of our rowing vessels to the site of the sunken city–we did haul up a small treasure, which will be included in the text here–and when we came back, Rowles told me that I had to join him in the crow’s nest. Well, I did. And I can tell you right now that the lost city was not paved with streets of gold that I can cash in on. I didn’t even need the scope to see how the light of the setting sun painted the cliff face in pure gold. Guess whoever called the city of Argo Bay a golden city had a particular affinity for the small pleasures of life.
The treasure we managed to claim this day is a small one but enough to validate that my ship hasn’t–and won’t–sunk. And so here following, I have included the text of that treasure:
My position had shifted. Instead of being outside in the light of day with the soft springy grass underfoot, I now wrestled with a new position. I could no longer hear the cheery voices or see the lawn that had been gleefully shaped by steady hands. I could no longer hear the reverberating rings of the morning birds’ cries. No, no longer. I could also no longer walk the wide diameter of the garden within the courtyard nor move hesitantly through the grand halls with my heels clicking noisily against the stone floor. Not anymore. Instead, I was now surrounded by darkness, hundreds of feet below the hard packed earth. Undistinguishable forms now swam before my eyes. It was cold. The solid metal at my back sent shivers down my spine. I could feel the mesh covering my face and could entwine my fingers in a bed of crumbs. My eternal resting place was dirty. Eternal resting place. How about that? A new position indeed. At least I knew that there was no reason to be nervous about eternity. No reason at all. Or . . . was there?
I’ll see what I can do about pulling up a few small chunks of different pieces tomorrow. Then I’ll let you decide which of those pieces I will retrieve the rest of.