Arthur’s hands trembled as he reached for the net. He wasn’t thinking about the suit’s history or the era it belonged to; his focus was entirely on the contents of its canvas belly. He worked with forced composure, his fingers fumbling slightly as he picked at the wet, tightened knots. He carefully unlooped the nylon cords he had used to secure the relic, peeling the mesh back inch by inch to reveal the salt-crusted canvas beneath.
Up close, the suit looked even older, the brass of the helmet pitted and green with oxidation. He unbuckled the heavy chest plate, the rusted bolts groaning in protest as they finally gave way. As the front of the suit fell open, the stones tumbled out onto the wet deck. Away from the murky depths and under the direct light of the sun, the ore looked magnificent. The dark, gravelly exterior was secondary to the veins of amber-gold that wound through every piece.
They caught the light, glowing with a warm, honeyed radiance that seemed to pulse against the grey wood of the boat. He picked one up, wiping away the remaining silt with his thumb, and watched as the gold shimmered beneath the surface.