Treasure Hunt

     Eighteen miles south of Boston, two miles out from the mainland town of Hingham, Massachusetts, lay a heavy gray mist broken only by flecks of light from the morning sun. The mist, I thought, was providing a shield from any curious onlookers. As I walked along the shoreline, an old oak tree came into sight. With a partially revealed root system, the old tree proved to be the ideal place to bury the pirate treasure. Seagulls splashing just off the small island's shore and the distant, fading hoot of an owl were all that could be heard as I reminded myself that my son, Marc was planning on meeting me for this adventure that I had dreamed up...  

     Having carefully placed the treasure where it couldn't be reached by the rising tide, I stood and turned to leave. The early mourning mist had burned away and there before my eyes on a boat about three hundred feet from shore, was a sailor, his binoculars focused right on me. Arrrgh!  Turning away I found my way back along the shoreline ti'll I was out of the sight of my challenger. No, I couldn't leave yet. I would have to wait and watch to be certain of his intentions. Maybe he hadn't seen me bury the treasure, maybe he did... Finding a place where I could hide and keep an eye on him, I waited for almost an hour before I felt comfortable that he hadn't discovered my purpose. The unfolding drama was welcome entertainment. Knowing that the treasure may be gone by the time Marc and I returned, I found myself apprehensive as to whether there might be other pirates in the vicinity!