Treasure? Down on Padre Island, about fifty years ago, a beachcomber (back before the federal government took over the lower area of Padre and renamed it Malaquite Seashore) lived off the beach, made his home of flotsam and jetsam, caught his food from the surf and collected his water from a soak behind the dune line. His life was walking that long lonely stretch. He had a Stevens "little scout" for taking shorebird and duck.
I saw this man several times when I was down that way, seining for trout, redfish and whiting with old Mert Coleman. Mert used a 1200 ft long 3" stretch net and a skiff we could launch through the surf and he'd row out past the break, feeding the net out while I held the shallow end, then we'd drag for a quarter mile or so, sacking up whatever happened to be in the gut between the sand bars. Some days were diamonds and somedays were dust, but that's fishing. But I digress...
On one trip Mert brought tea in a tin box and gave it to the old beachcomber. We were invited into his little driftwood cabin for a cup of tea.
He showed us some coins he'd found on a late afternoon walk. He said there were more, but once the rising tide and the dark overtook him he didn't gather "but a few handfulls". The southeast wind came up, the surf rose and by next morning, the search was fruitless. They were gold, and they were gone.
As I understand it, the old beachcomber was found dead, peacefully lying in his cot in the shade of that driftwood shack. Never knew what happened to his stash, probably buried in the dunes and returned to the surf by a half dozen hurricanes since.
