General Grant
No fictional horror could rival the ruin of the bark the General Grant. The strangeness of this shipwreck lay not in a tempest, but in an unseen and relentless current that inexplicably pulled the bark into a cave. Its destruction unfolded not in fury, but in darkness and the relative calm of undulating ocean swells. There, it vanished unwitnessed by the heavens. It seemed fated - claimed by that purveyor of the infinite, the unknown, and the subconscious. The sea can be chaotic or tranquil - we fear most the chaotic sea but, in this instance, it was the tranquil sea; a strength and power that conceals a mystery in what it contains and covers.
Purportedly the General Grant was transporting gold – probable, because many aboard were traveling from the Australian gold fields. One cannot underestimate the influence of that belief, the imagined treasure shaping both the actions of those involved and the mythic quality of the tale thereafter. Indeed, men have died searching for the wreck, drawn by the allure of unclaimed riches. They imagined the counting; the mounting increase concentrated in discrete gleaming shapes – coins or bullion.
The survivors' telling of events makes no mention of gold. In their recollections, one hears instead the strange composure of those who believed themselves beyond harm. This conviction gives to every retelling the texture of inevitability. We ourselves share in their feelings of being distinct, substantial, and indispensable among the few. We share the same belief because its remoteness frees us from the harm of existential blame or rancor.
Of the eighty-three souls aboard the two-year-old vessel, only ten survived. It seems almost incomprehensible that anyone would wish to return to the site of such misery; yet, as soon as he was able James Teer guided an expedition to recover the gold. The only treasure he profited from was the maps he sold to other treasure hunters and the lectures he gave recounting his castaway ordeal. No gold has ever been found.
