The story of one man's obsessive search for the lost treasure of Cocos Island

Originally published at: https://boingboing.net/2018/08/14/the-story-of-one-mans-obsess.html

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puzzle over an undead corpse.

Oh, you know my Boss too.

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Looks like it might be a similar situation to the Money Pit up in Nova Scotia. Some con man makes up a story about buried gold and gets “investors” in on the action. He runs off but the legend lives on as a succession of investors are duped over the years.

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Didn’t Robert Louis Stevenson basically invent the popular myth of buried pirate treasure? I mean the whole idea of stealing it in the first place was to spend it, not to hoard it.

That’s what they want you to believe…

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More to the point, these are real life pirates we are talking about. Basically a street gang with a boat. The only way a buried gold stays buried is if the captain kills the entire crew after it is buried. Otherwise at the next port the most opportunistic guy is going to skip out and sail back to collect it.

If the pirate’s ship was captured then they would be hanged, so nobody would be left to go back and get the treasure. Might as well leave it on the ship. At worst if you’re feeling spiteful you can kick it overboard before being captured. The myth just doesn’t make much sense in the real world.

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Pirate pension fund?

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I just wanted to congratulate whoever put together the podcast on August Gissler and Cocos Island. I just spent 2 years researching this topic for my book, called Costa Rica Blue. This podcast is one of the only well researched pieces on the island. www.costaricablue.org

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Enormous, Mendacious, Disembodied Anus…

Fictional pirates apparently thought so too:

“Now, I’ll tell you what,” he went on. “So much I’ll tell you, and no more. I were in Flint’s ship when he buried the treasure; he and six along—six strong seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and us standing off and on in the old Walrus . One fine day up went the signal, and here come Flint by himself in a little boat, and his head done up in a blue scarf. The sun was getting up, and mortal white he looked about the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the six all dead—dead and buried. How he done it, not a man aboard us could make out. It was battle, murder, and sudden death, leastways—him against six. Billy Bones was the mate; Long John, he was quartermaster; and they asked him where the treasure was. ‘Ah,’ says he, ‘you can go ashore, if you like, and stay,’ he says; ‘but as for the ship, she’ll beat up for more, by thunder!’ That’s what he said.

Particularly bearing in mind that most proceeds of piracy aren’t in cash.