Stories about the search for treasures. A cop in a burnt village - what can a digger wait for at night. Vladimir Alexandrovich Andrienko World history of treasures, treasures and treasure hunters

Hello to all treasure hunters, today we have a story from the reader of the blog Eugene. The treasures and their searches on the site of ancient villages are associated with mysticism, which Zhenya was able to see for himself. Read and share your thoughts. From such stories, the hair on your head begins to move and you understand that the other world exists and God forbid you to touch it.

Now, of course, crunching chips and in the company scare over the past is funny. But when all the "drinking companions" crawl to the places of deployment and are left alone with a pulsating noise in your ears - that village that was burned by the Germans, where you had a chance to spend the night, and the forest around, begins to emerge on the surface of your memory. Looks like in 41 they walked with forged boots, and tank caterpillars in the direction of Moscow, and they didn't stop at this line either - they burned their darlings to the ibens, with residents, with cattle, and with the whole history of that village that was from 17 I remembered myself for centuries. So this is the place on the topographic maps of 1989, as the tract is listed.

It was a saying.

Somehow Katka and I decided to find this mournful place and dig in the ash, overgrown sedge. We arrived at the place, or rather, the closest point, accessible by public transport, from where we had to stomp 6 km on foot. We trampled down the soil honestly. On the third kilometer, all the "nafigators" ordered to live long - there is no network, bullshit, they got the map with a compass - they walked on. And the sun is frying, as if ordered, the pot is whipping, it is already numbing into the footcloths, even though we are talking about the middle lane. It’s very hot in general, in spite of the fact that it’s about sunset.

Trampled the remaining three. And how to find a village, eh? - The navigation devices are crying, they say, there is no network, but according to the map, the place seems to be here. We decided to uncover the devices - there was none - that we would find all ours.

They rustled through the area with metal detectors - basins, pitchforks, hatchets, shovels - all in the trash, eaten by rust. By that time, the sun had begun to set, which means that it was necessary to look for a lodging for the night, we chose a free-standing willow in the field - let's go to it and here on you: a platform 30x40, and it was ironed with a bulldozer bucket - you see someone walked up to us.

I bungled the fire and broke some firewood in reserve. And the heat does not subside in the evening and the gnats have started up - they sting like fire on the skin, and after all, no means can save you. We dig anyway - the "tips" are stuck together, melted and pieces of something copper. When the claw was already tired of swinging the hook, they decided to blow the lights out.

Backpacks under the head, metal detectors with shovels in sleeping bags along the bodies, we don’t take a tent in principle, so as not to carry excess weight. And what is interesting: around the clouds and you can see that the rain is not acidic gushing, and above us not a cloud and the heat does not subside.

Throwing up firewood for the night and buttoning up in their sleeping bags, they began to listen to the silence. And the silence is like not native: either a branch 10 meters away will crunch (in the field!), Or a dog barking - not a barking, but a cough like a tuberculosis sufferer, and a nightingale warbles over this.

Then everything fell silent for me once, my ears throbbed, as if the sound on the TV was quickly and quickly turned up and down. I feel panic, but I can't move, I can't scream - I exhale only without a voice, and all this is against the background of noise in my ears. The heat seized again strongly, as if it were in the oven. Then, bam! - I lie in the dark with my eyes closed, everything is quiet. I understand that I can open my eyes, which means that the sleep paralysis is gone. And the little head is clear, like from an ice hole for baptism.

Have you ever woken up in a coffin? Here I am not. And when would you tear your eyes, and above you there is a layer of boards with thin gaps? So I open my eyes, and above me there are boards, and I seem to be lying on the damp ground. And someone is walking on the boards from above. He walks so hard and creaks with these very boards. Then it dawned on me that I was not lying in a wooden sheepskin coat, but in an underground cellar, and from above someone was walking in heavy forged shoes.

And I felt so melancholy for something, and fierce hatred for the one walking from above woke up, and immediately mixed with fear, my hands began to rummage along the ground in search of a heavy object. Another thought flashed through my head: "where the shovel was, and the shovel was nearby, but now there is none!"

I groped for something, raised it to my eyes, I looked, and this thing looks like a horseshoe, but it is too healthy for a horse. Meanwhile, the footsteps died down. Then, as if the glass of a window shattered, and in a minute, in the gap of the boards above me, everything began to play. I squeezed this thing, with a horseshoe similar, and let's beat on the boards, that is, sleep with sleep, and somehow the prospect did not smile to burn out. And after all, the floorboards are thick, and the nails were not tacked by boot nails, but I knocked out that one and where this nonsense came from - I can't really take it (then comrade told me that one parachutist, in order to free himself from an unopened parachute, gnawed the lines with his teeth and opened the spare) ...

So, it means that I am getting out to the surface, and around the room is engulfed in fire. Because of the smoke and flames, you can't see where to run! The temperature around has sharply exceeded the permissible norm. I can hear the hair on my head crackling, the skin on my hands is bubbling, my clothes are on fire. I run straight, at random, bump into some kind of table, tear down a samovar standing on it, it collapses to the floor with a crash of the first chords of the anthem, a splash of breaking glass, a candy bowl with a copper grip falls, spilling the contents that look like bubbling tar.

I fall on my hands, cut my palms with glasses, slide my palms on the floor on melted chocolate and glass, the fragments of the vase cut deeper into my hands, but the pain from the cuts is no longer there, it has gone beyond its threshold of sensitivity. I get to my feet, I try to breathe, I inhale the flame, it, burning out my nostrils, bursts into my lungs as a ball, exploding inside. Thought: "you can't breathe"! All this is like in slow motion, and the pain from the burns is real and I would be glad to move faster, but I can't - as if someone wants me to feel with every cell how they are burning alive.

I made a new run in the opposite direction, stumbled over the already familiar samovar, and, losing my balance, I bumped my head into the window. A piece of red-hot glass enters under the skin of his temple, but only animal panic remains. I fall out of the window, draw in oxygen, but instead of inhaling, I exhale with a barking cough, I run into the field past the huts engulfed in fire. My legs don't obey, and I fall face down on the grass, I can't breathe. There is a fire pond a hundred meters away, there is salvation.

I woke up at dawn. I ripped open my eyes - I see the ground, grass with dew drops. I roll onto my back - the sky is blue, the airplane flies, scarring the heavenly blue with a white train. Where is Katka? Why am I not at the camp? It turns out that I got out of my sleeping bag at night and walked about a hundred meters in footcloths without shoes? I didn't want to ascribe the diagnosis "sleepwalking" or "somnambulism" to myself, because either it exists or it does not exist. I returned to the camp.

Katya was already inserting a new set of batteries into her “favorite asechka”.

Good morning, Katyusha!
- Good morning, darling! Did you carry you from the evening stew? I woke up, and you are not.
- I'm not ready to answer.

But, really, I’m not ready, because I don’t remember anything, and I don’t understand why I suddenly started walking at night, my head is empty, like a tree without a core. We had breakfast, shovels with MD in hand and continued to beat the site.

Katka almost immediately found the silver of early "advice", but I have only pieces of melted copper debris and yellow bones. We gnaw on the brick of the foundation further: I have a cracker and a pallet from a samovar melted, Katka has a cartridge from a PPSh and a lid of a soldier's pot, and on it "Sasha Zimin" is crookedly scratched with a nail. Sat down to smoke.

Behind my back I hear: "Kuyase was a horse!" I see: Katya is standing, in her hand is a horseshoe, not a horseshoe, the size of a schoolboy's head. And a brass bracelet lies at the feet.

I dug with a spatula - not a bracelet, but a copper hoop, split into four parts. And then I saw the light so that I sat on my ass. I recalled the adventures of the previous night with all the details. And I'll tell you guys, I don't remember any dream in my life like this one.

They dug a hole under the willow tree, buried all the bones. Found concrete, they made something like a vegetable garden. I just couldn't part with the horseshoe.

This is how I, comrades, survived someone else's death.

Have you ever dreamed of going on an adventure and digging up a chest of gold? And it's not even about the treasures that films are made about, or about the fake cards that have captivated our imaginations since childhood. The conversation will focus on very real wealth hidden in ancient caches. From ancient artifacts that symbolized peace during the war, to huge ships loaded with boxes of gold, silver, diamonds and other jewelry, all these treasures are quite real and actually existed. Many enthusiasts went in search of them and failed, and some died in the process. Someone even got very close to solving their location, and one person in the United States even found a treasure worth almost 500 million dollars. Don't believe me? In this collection, you will find the most true stories about fabulous adventures and caches of jewelry!

25. Mosby's Treasure

In 1863, during the American Civil War, Confederate Army Colonel John Mosby and his guerrilla force, better known as the Mosby Raiders, captured General Stoughton and other soldiers of the Union of Non-Slavery States. During all this time, Mosby's people have plundered gold, silver and other valuable things totaling over $ 300,000. When the raiders were almost overtaken by the Union forces, Colonel Mosby hid the looted treasure somewhere between 2 pine trees. When the head of the partisans sent several of his soldiers to return this treasure, they were seized, and for fear of getting caught, Mosby allegedly never tried to get to his cache anymore, so the ancient treasure may still be waiting in the wings.

24. Butch Cassidy's Treasure

Photo: Users CDA / en.wikipedia / Wikimedia Commons

Cassidy and his famous Wild Bunch gang robbed banks and trains, and during their raids they collected nearly $ 20,000 worth of valuables, which were rumored to have been buried somewhere in the Irish Canyon area.

23.63 million dollars hidden somewhere in Bedford County


Photo: David Benbennick / Wikimedia Commons

As the story goes, in 1816, during his expedition, Thomas Beale and several of his companions found simply fabulous wealth - silver and gold, totaling $ 63 million. The miners decided that after their death, the treasure should go to the next of kin, and Bale created three encrypted messages for this. The first message hides in itself an indication of the place where this treasure was buried. The second cryptogram tells you exactly what values ​​are there, and the third is a list of all Bale's comrades and their next of kin. All three of these messages Bale put in an iron box and handed it to the hotel owner Robert Morris (Robert Morris) with instructions to open it in 10 years, if by then Bale had not returned for its contents. Presumably, in this case, Morris should have received a letter with the key to decrypt documents from the box, but this never happened, and the keeper of the cryptograms was able to unravel only the second cipher out of all 3.

22. Treasures of San Miguel


Photo: Augi Garcia

In the 18th century, things were going badly for Spain, because it was then, after the death of the king, that the country was drawn into the War of the Spanish Succession. At the same time, the Spaniards equipped several ships, loaded them with gold, diamonds and pearls and sent them on a journey to help solve the problem. During the voyage, a hurricane broke out, and the ships sank along with their valuable cargo. Some of these ships have been found, but other ships are still waiting for someone to find them ...

21. Dillinger's Buried Treasure

Photo: FBI / Wikimedia Commons

John Dillinger was a famous bank robber of the early 20th century. After his escape from prison, the criminal buried about $ 200,000 somewhere in the Wisconsin forest, and a little later he was shot.

20. Forest Fenn's Treasures

Photo: pintrest.com

The 87-year-old Vietnam War veteran and art dealer once admitted that he buried a chest of jewels somewhere 1,600 kilometers from the Canadian border in the Santa Fe area. Thousands of people tried to find this treasure, but no one was able to do it. Even Fenn's wife does not know exactly where the treasure is buried. However, the man left a hint to the adventurers in the form of a poem of 24 lines, which he wrote specifically for those who are ready to risk everything for a fabulous profit.

19. Money Pit, Oak


Photo: pintrest.com

The most interesting thing about this legend about Oak Island is that no one knows for sure whether the real treasure was buried there or not. An unusual pit was discovered by Daniel McGuinness and his friends John Smith and Anthony Vaughn (Daniel McInnis, John Smith, Anthony Vaughn) in the summer of 1795. The boys named this place the Money Pit simply because they believed in the existence of treasures. Many explorers and treasure hunters have tried to get to the very bottom of this mine, but so far no one has succeeded.

18. Treasure of the Mojave Desert


Photo: treasuretracer.com

According to legend, somewhere in the area of ​​the salt lake Salton Sea (Salton Sea) hidden treasures from the sunken ship. There is no real evidence for this story, except that in 1870 the LA Star newspaper published a story about a man named Charlie Clusker who allegedly found this mysterious treasure. However, no more news about him or about the found riches has appeared in the media, and therefore many dreamers believe that the treasure is still hiding somewhere in the sands of the Mojave.

17. LaFitte's Treasure

Photo: pintrest.com

Jean Lafitte and his brother Pierre were French pirates who robbed merchant ships. They robbed so many ships that some of the valuables had to be simply buried. After the death of Jean Lafitte, rumors surfaced of a cache in the Borgne Lake area near New Orleans, but this treasure has not yet been found.

16. Treasures of the galleon Nuestra Senora de Atocha


Photo: pintrest.com

When the ship Nuestra Senora de Atocha was returning from America to Spain in 1622, it was wrecked due to severe bad weather. The galleon sank in sea waters, and then there was a lot of gold, silver and other various jewels on board. Famed treasure hunter Mel Fisher subsequently found most of these treasures, and in the 1980s, valuables totaling $ 450 million were raised from the bottom. However, do not worry, experts are sure that Fischer did not find everything.

15. Captain Kidd's Treasure

Photo: James Thornhill

There are many stories about Captain Kidd's cruelty to his crew. There are also rumors about his buried treasure somewhere in the Florida area. Many believe that this is just another tales, but there are those who believe that since Kidd tried to buy off the judges with very big money, then he could well have hidden somewhere just a fabulous treasure of all the good he had stolen. Kidd's hiding place was never found.

14.2000 year old menorah

Photo: pintrest.com

When the Romans invaded the Jerusalem temple, they also took out a very valuable menorah from it. No one really knows what happened to this sacred artifact, because about 100 years after the raid on Jerusalem, the Roman Temple of Peace burned down and was destroyed, and in fact most of the trophies from Israel were stored in it.

13. King John Lackland's jewels

Photo: unknown Artist / Wikimedia Commons

It's hard to imagine how despised a king must be to be nicknamed King John the Bad. After this ruler signed the Magna Carta, he even tried to leave the country, taking with him the royal jewels. During his flight, John Landless fell seriously ill, and he had to rush to the doctor, and on the way some of the stolen treasures were lost. They are said to have been buried somewhere in the middle of the English swamps.

12. Diamond Florentine


Photo: Chris 73 / Wikimedia Commons

Initially, the Florentine diamond belonged to the Medici family, but when the last representative of this family died, the treasure passed into the possession of the Habsburg royal dynasty. This light yellow diamond was last seen transported to Switzerland after the fall of the Austrian Empire. Nowadays, no one knows where the legendary stone went, although there are several theories about this. One of the versions says that the jewel was stolen by one of the descendants of the Habsburgs.

11. The Dutchman's Forgotten Gold Mine


Photo: goodfreephotos.com

If you live in the Southwest United States, you've probably heard of the mythical gold mine that no one has ever found. According to legend, the German immigrant Jacob Waltz, nicknamed "The Dutchman" (Jacob Waltz, The Dutchman) knew where the mine with countless gold reserves was. The waltz never revealed this secret to anyone, so many treasure hunters still believe that the treasure is still waiting in the wings. They say that the Dutchman drew a map, but no one has figured it out so far, and some adventurers even died trying to find this mine.

10. Imperial seal

Photo: flickr.com

The imperial seal of China was carved from the famous He Shi Bi jade stone. The seal was made specially by order of Emperor Qin Shi Huang back in 221 BC. At the beginning of the 10th century AD, the seal disappeared without a trace, and since then nothing has been heard about it. Many even began to doubt the very existence of this artifact. There is a legend that a long time ago a man tried to present the discovered stone to the 10th Chinese emperor. At least, he either believed in the authenticity of the find, or tried to convince the Chinese emperor of this, who eventually doubted the authenticity of the relic and ordered the man's legs to be cut off.

9. Faberge eggs

Photo: flickr.com

Many have heard of Faberge precious eggs and the ongoing hunt for these jewelry. Once upon a time, Russian tsars gave them to their wives. The eggs were created by a skilled jeweler named Gustav Faberge, and in total he managed to make 50 such beautiful eggs, each of which had its own unique theme and a special surprise inside. When, during the 1917 revolution, the Bolsheviks seized power over the country and plundered the imperial palace, several of these eggs disappeared.

8. Dagobert's scepter

Photo: Jerome BLUM

The scepter of King Dagobert of France was originally part of the royal jewels of France until it was kidnapped from the Basilica of St Denis in the 18th century. Since then, no one and nothing else has heard of him ...

7. Confederate Gold


Photo: istara

Towards the end of the American Civil War, the president of the southern states, Jefferson Davis, for fear of being captured, presumably left the south with large reserves of gold, accompanied by a personal army. When the soldiers of the Union nevertheless overtook him, they found very few valuables with the fugitive, and not a trace remained of the fabulous riches. Many feature films have already been filmed about the disappeared Confederate treasury, but they have never been found.

6. The Catskill treasures hidden there by the Dutchman Schultz


Photo: pintrest.com

Dutch Schultz was a famous Jewish American mobster of the early 20th century. Throughout his criminal career, he committed many robberies and murders. When the FBI was almost on his heels, Schultz told his accomplice to hide all of his multimillion-dollar savings somewhere in the Catskill Mountains (Catskill). They say that Schultz's accomplice died without revealing the secret of the treasure's location.

5. Golden owl


Photo: reddit.com

The French have been looking for this treasure for the past 25 years. The golden owl was hidden by a writer who preferred to use the pseudonym Max Valentin. A lover of puzzles, this schemer left a few clues about where his treasure is. Valentine himself has long died, but no one has yet found his legendary golden owl. Before his death, the writer admitted that someone had already gotten very close to solving the mystery, but the owl was still waiting in the wings.

4. Amber room


Photo: jeanyfan, Bernsteinzimmer06 / Wikimedia Commons

Once upon a time, the amber room was a symbol of peace, because it was presented to Peter the Great in honor of the truce between Russia and Prussia. Unfortunately, in 1941, German troops reached this legendary art, and the "room" was taken to an unknown destination. However, they say that some fragments of the amber panels were dismantled even before the events of World War II.

3. Ship Flor Do Mar

Photo: Francisco Rodrigues / Wikimedia Commons

The Flor Do Mar sailboat was a huge Portuguese ship that was not particularly reliable for long-distance voyages, but due to its impressive size, it was still considered the pride of the country. During the next expedition, a ship with a large cargo on board was wrecked and drowned somewhere in the waters of the Indian Ocean. Probably, a whole fortune still rests at the bottom, because he was just transporting gold and other jewelry seized during the next military operation.

2. Treasures of the Knights Templar


Photo: pintrest.com

In 1119 AD, a small group of crusaders founded a religious military order called the Order of the Knights Templar. During their participation in the Crusades, these knights removed many treasures from the Sacred Land. When the Pope called the order heretical, some of its members were arrested, while others fled with all the riches they could carry with them. Presumably, the fugitives headed to Scotland, where they were sheltered by their allies and sympathetic believers. Rumor has it that some of the Templar treasures are still buried somewhere in the northern lands.

1. Lost Treasure of the Alamo (Alamo)


Photo: Wikimedia Commons

The Battle of the Alamo erupted during the Texas Revolution in Mexico. The battle took place between the army of Mexican President Santa Ana and 188 soldiers of the Texas garrison, one of whom was a certain Davey Crockett. As a result, he even got into the text of a popular song about this significant battle. However, not everyone knows that the siege of the Alamo mission is also associated with stories about treasures hidden in its area, which until now have not been discovered.

Someone will find my story ordinary, and perhaps even boring. I personally know people whom fortune has endowed with much greater success than me and my comrades. These gentlemen of fortune could tell of much more exciting adventures and boast of disproportionately large finds. Someone told me how at night they saw soldiers in the uniform of the Red Army, and in the morning they found their remains at this place, someone found gold hryvnias and placers of "scales". Our story is not so exciting, however, it is this case that has sunk into our memory - perhaps the action of the famous saying “patience and work will grind everything”, combined with mystical coincidences, makes it unique.

Chapter I. Not a good day

It all started during another trip to the junction of the Moscow and Ryazan regions. I must admit, these are the places we like the most. Here were the most interesting finds, and we also have friendships with several natives who provide useful information. So, there were three of us - reckless adventurers who preferred a dusty and bumpy road to a warm family bed and Morpheus' breath giving oblivion.

I must say that the story began even earlier - during the previous trip, we were surprised to notice the mown and plowed former state farm fields that had not been cultivated since the collapse of the Soviet Union. At that time, we decided not to go anyhow, and only then, using the maps, to find interesting points on the newly plowed fields. Now we have five places marked - five chances for success, five hopes. At this point, it is worth giving a small description of my companions. Both of them are successful people with a stable income, but the cop's whirlpool pulled them headlong. One of them, Dima, is the lucky one in our trinity, sometimes there is a feeling that he will find a coin even in the devil's ass. The second, Andrei, is not so lucky, but very stubborn, which is often rewarded. It was he who pushed me, on the one hand, to a new hobby, and on the other to a very adventurous occupation.

And finally that morning came when the three of us, not sleeping enough, but in anticipation of the cherished finds, raided the first two fields. Time passed, but there were no finds. Even the happiest of the three pigs had two worn-out "soviet" in his pocket, which can hardly be called even ordinary finds.

On the way to the third field, my inner instinct was showing me a fig. Indeed, it is empty. The sun had already risen high and burned mercilessly, incinerating hope for good luck. Putting the metal detector aside, I lay down in the grass at the edge of the field and squinted at the blue sky. Above me, the tops of the pines rustled affectionately. A pleasant slumber fell on me almost immediately. Half asleep, I recalled how I was lying on the edge of the field after mowing, in the village where I went on vacation. All that was missing was a bottle of milk, which my grandmother gave me with her, and my grandfather, who told simple stories about village life. He had his own bottle of "milk" on the mow, and, getting drunk under a tree in the sun after several hours of work, he poisoned his bikes. Basically, they were about hunting, about how once a faithful husky saved him from a bear, and later a grateful grandfather, feeding several hunting dogs, gave her the very first piece of meat, where there were fewer veins.

“And here's another story, Lyonka” - despite the fact that he knew very well that my name was Alexei, he called me Lyonka all his life - “Your grandmother and Manka spit went to the cooperative field at night for beets. They dig it, look at the car drove up, illuminated them with headlights, your grandmother lay down, and Manka, not only oblique, but also fat, got up on her knees and crawled, so they, from a gun into her, kaaaak will hit her! For a boar, it means she was taken. And as soon as she jumps up, with matyugas and runs to the side, these would-be hunters themselves were frightened by such a sight. It’s good that we didn’t hit ”.

Grandfather's face, tanned with wrinkles, grins merrily.

It was a long time ago, then the trees were larger and the sky was bluer, but now ...

- Why lay down - the voice of my friend pulls me out of the blissful languor.

I open my eyes and see his face looming over me, crimson with heat.

Is there anything? I ask.

Nothing, he says through clenched teeth.

Chapter II. Wilds of the Amazon

The path to the fourth field was blocked by a river. Not wide, but with steep banks and fast currents. There were two options: to return to the car and make a big detour to the bridge, and then go through the country roads to the opposite bank - or ford the river. We stopped at the second one. The shoal could not be found, but was lucky to find a place where the bottom was clearly visible. Then the comedy began. Stripping naked, we entered the stream, immediately bogged down in a silted bottom. Somehow, with matyugas, like Markitanian boats, maneuvering between the bushes of algae that braided our legs, we moved to the opposite bank. If there were fishermen nearby and saw this picture, the shore would surely be suffused with thick laughter. The fishermen were replaced by local frogs who, with wild croaking, made fun of us. Already approaching the shore, I splashed savoryly into the sand. Knee-deep in mud, in stuck water lilies and mud, we climbed to the opposite bank. Having cleaned up and overcoming the log, we moved to the weight that attracted us. Here it became clear that there was an error in the calculations, the tract was further beyond the copse. I had to walk through a swampy field, which still retained the morning moisture. The grass was above our knees, and soon we were completely wet again, in addition, from each step a cloud of midges flew up from the ground, annoyingly circling above us.

The field ended and we decided that the misadventures were over. But it was not there. The road was blocked by a stream, two meters wide, completely overgrown with duckweed. I didn't want to climb into it. Having bent several willow bushes on the bank, we built an impromptu bridge out of it. Moving to the other side, we entered the forest separating from the field - and immediately fell into the mosquito kingdom. These were not just mosquitoes, but wild blood-sucking giants. It seems that they are determined to drink all our blood and eat our flesh. There was no salvation, they easily bit through their pants, stung in the neck, cheeks, climbed on all exposed parts of the body. They just enveloped us like a cloud. We have added a step. The forest parted, and the cherished field appeared before us. I walked last and did not immediately understand why two of my comrades stood rooted to the spot. Our imaginary "Klondike" was completely planted with young trees. Obviously, it was impossible to walk here. We were silent. Like a verdict, the silence sounded - Acta est fabula!

This was the last straw. There was no more optimism. That's it, point, basta.

Chapter II. Man won

Having reached the car, leaving the inventory in the trunk in deathly silence, we started back. Having bought cold water and had a quick snack, little by little we moved away. I don’t remember exactly who was the first to offer to call in the village with a welcoming name, to check the last place, but such a decision was made.

The field, which had not been plowed for a long time, was furrowed, which made walking on it very comfortable. We decided not to go far. And then something happened that contains something mystical, as if someone, watching our misadventures, decided to take pity. Although, perhaps it was just a coincidence, coincidence, luck, luck.

Taking a step away from the car, we, according to a tradition we heard somewhere, poured a glass of vodka for the earthen grandfather and put in a piece of candy.

And it began! Literally a meter away from this place, my device gave a clear signal. We fiercely took up the shovels. From a depth of about half a bayonet, they raised the first Catherine's penny, then the second, third, fourth ... And all on a straight line, like an arrow, at a distance of 5-6 meters from each other, for 20 minutes. We didn't even believe it right away.

- I also found it! - my friend shouts to me.

- Two more! - the second friend shouts to me

It became obvious that we ran into plowing. Several two-kopeck coins and half-cakes of the Catherine period were also raised.

Half a day climbing through the wilds, looking in the designated "fat" places - and nothing. And here, on the edge of the field, almost near the houses, such luck. Until now, I, a person who absolutely does not believe in mysticism, puzzle over what it was - a coincidence, or, indeed, some patrons of the diggers took pity on our torment. We did not dare to lay the pit, since there were residential buildings literally 100 meters away. Therefore, we had to be content with what we found, but even these, at first glance, modest finds greatly lifted our spirits.

Epilogue

Of course, after that, my comrades and I had more worthwhile finds, in material and aesthetic terms. However, it was this trip that we remember most of all. Recalling our adventures that evening, we all suddenly caught ourselves thinking that even if the journey ended in nothing - having sniffed, panting, internally having overcome this failure in ourselves, we would have continued to engage in our favorite hobby. After all, it is these adventures that make the cop more intense, fill us with impressions and provide food for discussion.

Sent by Alexey V.

Comrades, to participate in the competition, send your stories from the cop with interesting photos to the email: [email protected] What can be won in the competition of the season 2016? All the details about the prizes

I bring to your attention an interesting story about the discovery of an equally interesting treasure, well, so as not to torment, we will go straight to the story.

Hello, uv. comrades! Last Sunday, my son and I were lucky enough to move from the category of treasure hunters to masonry diggers: for the first time in a year with a little search, a treasure came across.

And it was like this. At the end of the trouble at the dacha, the son begged his wife to dig for an hour and a half in the nearest field in honor of February 23. Since last year, it has been standing under millet, waiting for plowing: there is no mud, the soil is sandy, and it is a pleasure to walk. Earlier, several dimes of 1928-30 and two bilons of the same period were raised here. Since, according to pre-war maps, there were no buildings at this place and nearby, they did not walk tightly, only along the edge of the field, they waited for the millet to be removed.

The prospect was only hinted by the fact that all the coins were raised from a 5x3 meter patch. In general, we returned there without much enthusiasm, so to speak, for the sake of "peep".

In the old place, the "tips" immediately started to climb: and again the piles and bills: 10 and 20 kopecks of 1928-1930. In total, on the patch, which expanded to 5x30 meters, we raised a half dozen five-kopeck coins, 4 ten-kopeck coins and two twenty-kopeck coins. All -1928-1930. As it became clear, it was an open wallet. In addition, the same section of the field pleased us with two more coins - a nickle of 1880 and ½ kopeck of 1896, which added to our enthusiasm.

However, my story is not about the purse. Having knocked out the "fruitful" site, we went further across the field along the bald patches among last year's millet, which the owner decided not to clean due to a poor harvest, but to dig it up in the spring. My son "ran into" the PPSh shot, I was 20 kopecks in 1932. A few meters from the "extreme" find, a clear but deep coin signal suddenly appeared (this is what my Asya emits on a large copper coin or rusty iron foil).
At a depth of about 80 cm to a meter, I came across a lid, as it seemed to me then, of some kind of stainless steel box.

He called his son and jokingly asked: "Do you want the treasure?"

Of course I do, ”he replied, glancing skeptically at the bottom of the dug hole.

A couple of minutes later, an old chrome-plated medical sterilizer for syringes was brought to the surface of the earth.

Weighty, - I stated, still not believing that there could be something in it.

All doubts were dispelled as soon as I opened the lid: on top of the old, partially decayed fabric in the form of long sausages, there was an old wrist watch. Having torn the fabric a little, the gold pieces were revealed to our eyes.

Money, in my opinion, chervontsy! - I said, and at that moment when my son was ready to scream with joy, I added - But not those, but paper.

Alas and ah - the bix turned out to be clogged with pre-war chervonets. Nevertheless, the mood did not fall from this. The charge of cheerfulness was provided.

It was decided to remove the chervontsy at home, soaking it a little with distilled water so as not to damage it. The road is 30 km. from the dacha home, as well as household chores before starting to dismantle the treasure - seemed like an eternity. After all, what was at the bottom, we did not know. And this uncertainty gave free rein to the imagination.

As it turned out, the money was carefully sewn into a kind of sackcloth belt in four tight twists. At the bottom, we still had a small surprise-bonus in the form of ... a party card and an identity card of the commanding staff of the Red Army. This is perhaps the most valuable thing, because made it possible to identify the owner of the treasure and even the time of its laying.

The owner turned out to be a Jew by nationality, an officer of the administrative service of the Red Army, Vayner Yakov Evdeevich, born in 1908. Through the resource "People's feat" I unexpectedly found out that Yakov Evdeevich survived in the meat grinder of the Kiev cauldron and rose to the rank of captain, was awarded a medal for "Military Merit" in 1944, and the Order of the Red Star in 1945. It was also found out that this military band member was wounded twice in August 1941 and in 1944.

Here you can see that the photo was ...

Comparing what we managed to find out with the history of the area, I came to the conclusion that at the end of August 1941, in the area of ​​Zolotonosha, Yakov Vayner, being wounded, was surrounded ("Kiev boiler"). And, obviously, not hoping to go out to his own people, at the same time - at the end of August 1941, he buried on one of the few hills of the once swampy area, everything of value, as well as documents.

Whether it was his own money or government money, now one can only guess. In total, the bix contained a Kirovskie wristwatch, 91 banknotes of three ducats each, i.e. 273 ducats or 2,730 rubles, a party card, an officer's certificate and, for some reason, two matches.

My son had the idea to restore the watch, find the relatives of Yakov Weiner (if any) and give them along with the documents to them.

That's all, do not judge strictly, tk. this is my first report, besides, I took pictures with my phone. Since time was running out, there is no nature photo, and most of the pictures were taken at home during the autopsy.

The story is taken from the Ukrainian forum http://forum.violity.com/.

I also remind you that there are other no less interesting invented stories about how they hid the treasure in ancient times and about the discovery of these treasures now, this is the story “The Treasure of the Old Cossack” and the story “When you carry us by the legs, then you will take it, or the story of one wallet, "enjoy reading.

Adventures associated with the search for ancient treasures have long occupied a firm place in world literature, but this topic is poorly reflected in Russian prose, or rather, it is not reflected at all. The maximum is a small note in the regional newspaper about a pot of silver kopecks found in the garden of an idle pensioner or a small collection of search legends and old tales that are of little interest to a wide readership. Why did it happen? Why is there in the West both "King Solomon's Mines", and "Treasure Island", and "Hearts of Three", and we have nothing even remotely similar, although in our land, unlike most others, treasures are truly unique. Perhaps the whole point is in that very special spirit of the Russian fortune hunter, which, in general, is alien to the high spirit of romance that envelops similar stories in other countries. Our home-grown treasure hunter sets himself somewhat different tasks than in the greedy West, and even achieves k>: in rather peculiar ways.

However, judge for yourself. In this short article, I will describe as accurately as possible the events that happened to me in the early summer of 2000, and I think that our dear readers will figure it out for themselves whether they are worthy of the pen of modern Walter Scott or Conan-Milking me. So, in 1995 or 1996, I happened to get from Vyazma to Smolensk on an old, extremely overloaded regular bus. Right behind me sat two local residents - an elderly man with glasses, with a long-term beard, and a boy of about ten or eleven, apparently her * grandson. The bus was cramped, hot and smelled of gasoline. In addition, he was shaking mercilessly on every bump, it seemed that with the next push, he would generally fall apart into its component parts. The boy, who at first sat quite calmly, soon began to turn restlessly, thrash his sandals on the back of my seat and tediously whine at my grandfather. He, in turn, in order to somehow distract him from the inevitable hardships of the path, began to tell all sorts of stories, probably drawing them from his own biography. Having told about his personal adventures, the grandfather smoothly moved on to presenting the stories he had heard a long time ago, apparently from his grandfather.

And here's another, Vasyun, listen to such a fairy tale, - he leaned to the very ear of his grandson, making it clear that his words are strictly confidential and not subject to disclosure. - When the Napoleons retreated from Moscow in eight hundred and twelve, they passed here too. Yeah. And Agrafena's grandmother told me a long time ago that when their army passed beyond Smolensk, their chief marshal ordered to throw his golden carriage straight into the Dnieper, into the abyss, so that no one would get it. - And who, who does not get something, - the grandson who became interested literally hovered on the seat. - Duck, probably, to our Cossacks, - the grandfather threw up his hands in discouragement. And this secret place was called Raw Root, - he added in a voice beyond the grave, apparently for greater persuasiveness. Their conversation immediately spread to the legendary chieftain, then to the no less legendary Lefty, and I kept thinking about the carriage thrown into the river, wondering if it had survived to our times, or if it had already been taken out. Returning from a trip to Moscow, the first thing I did was buy a map of the Smolensk region and, armed with a magnifying glass, began to examine the area along which the Dnieper flowed below Smolensk. Imagine my amazement when I soon really came across the name Sy-Rokorene, belonging to a small village located on the left bank of the river.

Yes, the old man's legend is really not devoid of a historical background, - I was delighted. After studying the literature available to me later, I was finally convinced that the corps of Marshal Nsya really once fell into a disastrous trap, falling into a kind of trap between our troops and the half-frozen Dnieper. The crossing of the French troops to the other side on the still extremely weak ice was tragic in its own way, and many participants in those events wrote about this. Initially trying to cross the ford at Rawropen, they came under fierce fire from Cossack cannons and, having suffered significant notepn, retreated. The only opportunity left for them was to move along the river, trying to find a strip of more or less strong ice to cross. And at first I thought that they had found several such sites. And accordingly, the retreating French made several attempts to get over to the right, saving bank. Some of these attempts were probably more successful, others less. And, apparently, the personal carriage of the marshal himself was among the last flooded objects. She most likely "sank to the bottom while trying to ferry her across a river wide enough in those places.

Presumably, I thought, that there were a lot of valuables in that carriage, and it was the weight of the heavily laden carriage that contributed to the fact that it fell through the ice, taking with it both the abyss and the team of horses and the driver. In general, there was very little left for me to accomplish - to find the drowned vehicle along with all the treasures. But, as is usual with us in Russia, the fairy tale will soon tell itself, but it will not soon be done. Actually, it was not done, until the moment when I once again was left without work. I must say that by this time, chance brought me into contact with another adventurer, who, moreover, was on friendly terms with the director of a large tourist equipment store. It was then that I remembered the drowned carriage. And, remembering, he invited his new acquaintance to try to find her. At first, he was openly skeptical about my idea, “since the search area was too vast, but I suggested simplifying our task somewhat, conventionally dividing it into two parts. At the first stage, I undertook to independently explore the space between the villages of Syro Korene and Vorishki (now bashfully called Varechki). For some reason, it seemed that after walking along the banks of the Dnieper, I would visually identify the most convenient places for crossing a fairly wide river.

So, I immediately hit the road. From Moscow to Smolensk I took a fast train, and from it to Gusino station by local train. Then I had to go on foot. When I reached the bridge over the Dnieper, I stood in the middle of it for several minutes, with hope and intently peering into the dark water rushing below me; At the sight of such a stormy stream, my resolve was somewhat shaken, but I had no intention of deviating from my plan, having traveled so long. An hour later I found myself on the outskirts of the village of Varechki, exactly in the place where (judging by the literary sources) the bulk of the French more or less successfully crossed. From here I was to move upstream for about seven kilometers.

Armed with a notepad and a fountain pen, I strolled slowly along the edge of the river slope, assessing its steepness, as well as the length of the path along which French carts once might have rolled. After all, it is quite understandable that from a too high slope, the carts could accelerate so much that they would probably break the ice right near the coast. Consequently, the descent could only take place where the coast was either low or rather flat. Fortunately, along the entire stretch of a rather tedious journey, I met a little of such relatively convenient places, or rather, I almost never met them. The few sections that even in the slightest corresponded to my idea of ​​a place for a crossing were still extremely inconvenient. And only when I got almost to the Rawroot itself, I saw a place adapted for crossing just perfect. But I already knew that here the French had failed to cross and the carriage could not even accidentally find itself in the space between Raw Root and Alekseevka. I had to stop and indulge in thought, mentally transported to those distant times.

It is known from the history of the Patriotic War of 1812 that the moment for the corps of Marshal Ney, moving in the rearguard of the French army, was truly desperate. He was cut off from the main forces that managed to break through to the city of Krasny, and forced to turn sharply north in search of detours. There was no question of calmly transporting numerous carts with prey and wounded across the just frozen Dnieper; they had to think about how to save at least combat-ready units. Perhaps it was then that the troops received the order of the marshal to throw all the slightest heavy load into the river? However, they also could not just push the carts, guns and carts off the cliff. The banks of the Dnieper in this section are so high and steep that the luggage from the carts would simply crumble along the bumpy and heavily overgrown slope, without even reaching the water. In addition, I saw that most of the river slopes were covered with forest, and, therefore, all the carts would get stuck there already in the first meters!

Having turned decisively one hundred and eighty degrees, I. forgetting about fatigue and hunger, he moved back to Varechki. Now I was looking not for places of possible crossings, but for open spaces where it would be convenient to roll the carts down the river, simply and without much fuss. By the way, I remembered an episode I had read somewhere, in which one of the participants in those distant events confirmed that several cannons that were left without power were specially dropped into the Dnieper. It seemed that my task was greatly simplified. The cannons in those distant times were very massive, and it was quite feasible to find their accumulation even from the surface of the water, even under a layer of silt. I was also attracted by the price of the guns. Non-ferrous metal, even in the form of scrap, had a solid value in those years. Returning home from the hike, I told my new acquaintance about my considerations, and together we began an intensive search for the equipment corresponding to our tasks. The search, fortunately, was short-lived. The World of Adventures store, which had recently opened on Leninsky Prospekt, kindly put at our disposal the Gemini-3 device, which allows us to detect metal even at a depth of six meters. There was very little left to do - to choose the right time and go with him to two "suspicious" sections of the river and ring them with the help of foreign technology. A suitable case presented itself only in June 2000.

Early in the morning, a brick-colored Volkswagen drove out of Moscow along the Minsk Highway, in which four broad-shouldered men were sitting. I will briefly introduce them to you. They sat in the back; Vadim Anatolyevich and Oleg Yurievich are representatives of the sponsor who allocated us a device, an inflatable boat and two small tents. Both of them were supposed to help me with the search work. I myself was sitting in the front seat, and my new acquaintance, Alexander Vladimirovich, was driving. His job was to get us to the place and provide us with decent and nutritious food. We reached Varechek without any special adventures, although I was somewhat surprised by the custom of my fellow travelers to celebrate every hundred kilometers with a hundred-gram glass of vodka. Passing Varechka, in order to stay closer to the river, we turned onto a country road, seemingly well-rolled. There was very little left to the intended goal, when the path was suddenly blocked by a solid puddle (the day before there were heavy rains).

Picking up a whole cloud of spray, the car desperately rushed forward, but, of course, immediately skidded and sat on the "belly". The engine stopped and she froze helplessly in the muddy mud. At this fateful moment, Vadim Anatolyevich, apparently awakened by the loud noise of the engine, opened his eyes and looked around uncomprehendingly. Thinking that this whole nightmare was just a dream, he sighed loudly, opened the door and took in their half-flooded interior. Fortunately for him, a somewhat more sober driver immediately rushed to his aid, and, although not without difficulty, nevertheless dragged his colleague drowning in a puddle to dry land. My position was desperate.

The car apparently sat down firmly, three drunken men were circling around it stupidly in the smoke of drunken men, and there was nowhere to wait for help, since it was Saturday and not a single car had passed along the road in three hours. However, I had no choice, I had to return to Varechki, look for a powerful truck or tractor. When, after three hours of fruitless wanderings, I returned to my original place, our car, to my amazement, was no longer in the puddle. Having carefully examined the tracks left by the tires, I quickly realized that they had been pulled out by some kind of vehicle, such as the "Ural" or "KrAZ".

Thank goodness the footprints on the wet soil were readable, and I soon found the spot where our Volkswagen turned into the river. After walking half a kilometer along the track he made, I found my fellow travelers, covered with mud, sitting in the coastal thickets near a car half-covered with clay. The only thing that I managed to do that day was to set up both tents and put all three sufferers to bed.

The next morning, after a hectic and half-burnt breakfast, we embarked on the main part of our grand search. Initially, we planned to stretch the rope across the river, after which we only had to tie a second rope to it, which would serve as a kind of support during the measurement. The only question was how to get her to the right bank. The river in that place was at least fifty meters wide, and the water rushed at full speed on all these meters. However, there was nowhere to retreat, as the French once did. Having inflated the boat, two of my assistants boldly rushed on it into the stormy waters, dragging a nylon rope with them. But either the current was too strong, or my partners did not have enough strength after yesterday's, but in order to swim these unfortunate sixty meters (we then measured the distance accurately), it took them half an hour of desperate rowing. Finally the support rope was pulled over the water, and the rowers, crimson with tension, moored the boat to our shore. The time has come for me to act too. Having pulled the boat out onto a rather steep slope, we began to strengthen in its bow the device, prepared for work, on which we had pinned such great hopes. Soon the equipment was ready for work and exploration began.

I sat down at the front of the boat and served the Jamie-nee, and one of the sponsors, feeling somewhat better than the others after yesterday's copious libations, sat down on the oars. Having rubbed the accessible part of the river and not finding anything remarkable in it, we moored back. In theory, we should now unhook the rope and move it fifty meters downstream. But at that moment a saving thought occurred to me.

Surely a cannon or a wagon launched from the shore could not roll far, I realized. The bank may be quite steep, but the bottom of the river changes its curvature rather quickly, and about seven to eight meters from the bank it becomes almost horizontal, and it is there that an object launched from the bank must certainly stop. Having reeled the removed rope into a ball, I hooked its end to the branch of a tree growing near the water and began to take measurements continuously. At the same time I gave instructions to my zagrebny to keep about ten meters from the shore. We measured one hundred meters, another, a third - nothing. And at the fourth hundred, and exactly where the most convenient place for flooding was located, the device suddenly came to life. Having circled as far as possible around the first find, I found out that the mass of the drowned object is approximately equal to 150 kilograms and, what is most interesting, this metal is non-ferrous.

Here is the first cannon, - I exclaimed with delight, - I suppose, the rest are somewhere nearby. However, my bright hopes were not destined to come true. The object at the bottom was completely lonely, and even after moving more than three hundred meters away from it, we did not find anything of the kind. Absolutely nothing. There was nothing to do, and we, having pulled ourselves up to the last place of anchoring the support rope, climbed to the almost vertical shore, dragging the boat behind us with the last of our strength. With considerable difficulty, having made our way through the dense thickets of mat, almost a meter and a half nettles, we crawled out into the open space. Having voted for several minutes, hoping to attract the attention of those who remained in the camp, we realized that we would not wait for help, and dragged our belongings to the parking lot. The first thing we saw when we approached the Volkswagen were the feet of our driver, Alexander Vladimirovich, adorned with dirty socks, which were lonely sticking out of the window opening of the rear seat. Having made a few more steps, we saw the formal leader of our expedition - Vadim Anatolyevich, who, for some reason, was lying prone on the ground in only one boot, but with an ax in his left hand.An bad feeling made me throw the rubber burden and rush to him. There was no trace of blood, and I turned him over on his back. Vadim Anatolyevich slowly opened one eye and, focusing it on my face, barely parted his parched lips and muttered: “Ah-ah, you are back, guys. Have a drink ... do you want? Then pour yourself ... yourself. "

I just spat out of frustration and began to pack the already unnecessary device. I was glad only that the deed had already been done and at least one object was found. I must say that we did not have any diving equipment with us, except for a primitive mask with a snorkel. But by this, if I may say "equipment", to rush into such impetuous and deep waters would have been complete madness, and in the morning we left the hospitable shore filled with empty containers, never knowing what was hidden under the water. In addition, it was clear that it was impossible to reach a massive object (presumably a bronze cannon) lying at a depth of at least four meters without underwater specialists and appropriate equipment. I had to go back in a lazy way, but my companions were very encouraged by such a successful, in their opinion, trip. What was the success, I did not understand, probably, only that another record was broken in terms of the number of drunk per capita.

Surprisingly, literally a month later, I quite unexpectedly received additional data that the ancient events, the legend of which we were developing on the Dnieper, actually took place in a completely different place. And the mystery of the mass of non-ferrous metal that we discovered, naturally, excited my imagination. After all, we were confident in Tom that we had found exactly what we were looking for, namely the gun. Accordingly, all of our preliminary ideas on how to carry out work to retrieve the object from the bottom of the river have undergone significant changes. First of all, it was not clear what exactly lies about ten meters from the steep Dnieper bank. Is it a monolithic object, or a bunch of more

small items. The answer to this question could be obtained purely theoretically by three methods. One could lower the underwater video camera down, dive under the water with a mask, or try to probe what was found with a steel pin. The difficulty was that, firstly, the object was covered with a layer of silt and there was no way to see it, and the pin at our disposal was too short. Thus, we were faced with the question of how and with the help of what technical means should we fish out the find? In this case, it was necessary, if possible, to get by with the smallest forces and, naturally, not to involve heavy equipment. Of course, we had to solve this problem quickly, in a maximum of two days of the trip. And we began to prepare. Having made the appropriate calculations, we decided that a conventional hand-operated automobile winch would be sufficient to extract the discovered. If necessary, the rope could easily be extended with a strong rope capable of moving multi-hundred-gram weights. There was also no problem with securing the winch on the shore, since rather large trees grew on it in abundance. All that remained was to find a way how to deliver this winch to the found object. I will repeat once more those initial conditions and difficulties in which we would have to work. By this time, the depth of the river had dropped to 2.5 meters, the distance from the solid bank was 9 meters, and we estimated the possible depth of silt deposits at a meter or a little more. And most importantly, a rather strong current.

Based on these data, it was decided that we could not do without attracting at least one professional scuba diver. However, since it was not possible to recharge the scuba gear in the field, the whole calculation was based only on the supply of air that we could bring with us from Moscow. Since we had only two suitable scuba gear at our disposal, we actually had only one and a half to two hours of working time under water. It was from this fact that one should proceed in the first place. In a relatively short period of time, our scuba diver should not only find the exact location of the object, but also, if possible, clear it of silt. Then, if it was something monolithic, it should be securely fastened to the hook of the cable and followed by its extraction. If the object was a scattering of scattered objects, then the diver had to use flexible containers - mesh plastic bags from under the potatoes.

Having clearly understood all the stages of the upcoming operation, we decided that we must in advance make it as easy as possible for the diver his difficult mission. First of all, this concerned orientation under water. Therefore, we decided to take out and secure the boat exactly over the place where it was found. In addition, we had to mark the place of the find with a composite metal pin. Our difficulties began immediately after we launched the boat into the water. The previous trick with one lashing line did not work, as the boat was constantly being pushed to the shore. I had to use the triangle method. Having made a homemade anchor from three curved rods of rebar, we tied it with a rope to the boat and threw it about the middle of the river. The second rope was fixed on the shore. Thus, simultaneously manipulating two ropes, we brought the boat exactly over the object, guided by the readings of the switched on magnetometer. Now there was only one thing to do - to find the find. Since it was extremely difficult to work at such a depth and with such a current, we fiddled for about half an hour before the probe buried several times in something hard and clearly metal. But to say unequivocally, whether it is a monolithic object or a composite one, we never did, since it was almost impossible to aim at the same place blindly. One way or another, but since the main preparatory work has been carried out, it is time for the diver to act.

Realizing that the current would interfere with him, we tied him by the belt with a special rope, hoping to use it at the same time as a safety device. Having handed the scuba diver a sapper shovel, we helped him to descend into the water about ten meters upstream and with quite understandable excitement began to follow the bubbles of his exhaled air rising upward. One of us all the time controlled the tension of the rope, being in constant readiness to come to the rescue of the diver, if he, as agreed, pulled the rescue rope twice. Soon, by wiggling a pin sticking out from under the water, we guessed that it had reached its goal and began excavations. A stopwatch, acquired specially for this purpose, was launched, according to which one of us monitored the time spent by the diver under water. It took about forty minutes, and our scuba diver emerged on his own. Having floated to the surface, he, breathing heavily, said that below, under a layer of silt, he had found large wheels, sort of like from a cart.

And the hefty springs are riveted to them, ”he said at last, before inserting the mouthpiece into his mouth and diving in again. To prove his words, he threw a very green brass handle from a door to the bottom of the boat as if goodbye. “Has that legendary carriage been found? - a joyful thought pierced me. - This is good luck! " Luck by luck, but the fact that it was not a cannon at all that was discovered changed our entire strategy - Since it was absolutely impossible to pull out the find with a single hook, we had to rebuild on the go. The scattered wreckage of the crew was evidently under the silt. It was completely unrealistic to try to rip out the whole wagon, which was stuck in the silt, because it would immediately fall apart into separate parts.

So, we had little choice: either to try to scrape out at least some of the objects already found from the silt, or, using the air remaining in the cylinders of the second scuba gear, to unearth the entire carriage and, if possible, determine the scale of what was found somewhat more accurately. The second was, of course, more tempting, but after a short discussion, mercantile considerations took up, and it was decided to extract what had already been dug out, since the silt layer was relatively shallow, although quite strong.

Further work was carried out according to the following scheme. A durable plastic bag was dropped under the water, into which everything that was found without preliminary analysis was loaded, along with silt, wreckage of a carriage and other garbage accumulated over many years. At first, we tried to pull out the full bag with the help of a pre-installed winch, but since the speed of winding the cable was prohibitively low, we decided to pull it out simply by hand, since the weight of the entire load in the filled state did not exceed fifty kilograms. Two people were quite easy to pull the slippery load up the slope in a matter of minutes. Another sack equipped with a bright float, securely tied to a tree with a rope, was immediately thrown to the diver who surfaced to the surface. In total, with great difficulty and adventure, we managed to lift up five or six sacks.

Soon the air in the diver's cylinders ran out, and our entire soaked team, no longer able to extract anything beyond what they had already found, crowded around a heap of glossy black silt. The most exciting moment has come. They brought several plastic containers with water from the river and began to dig up the thick, eroding it.

Despite the fact that a significant part was actually river silt, we still came across a fair amount of valuable finds. Among them were a beautiful silver spoon with a Latin monogram on the handle, a double-barreled pistol, a dozen French five-franc coins, one gold coin from Catherine's times, and quite a few other small things, among which a very beautiful silver ring with a flat burgundy ruby ​​stood out. You yourself understand that our joy simply knew no bounds. Of course, not crazy treasures, but what we managed to raise more than compensated for our generally not very significant expenses.

In the evening, having gathered for the last field dinner, we drained the remains of our alcoholic ammunition for joy and the next morning (of course, again with many adventures) we went to Moscow. For some time after our return, we were busy with the realization of our finds, having recouped all the travel expenses, and even earned something on top of that. It was time to return for what was left before the cold came. But then something strange began. I will not be too lazy to repeat once again that the total weight of the finds raised to the surface did not exceed several kilograms, and, therefore, most of the carriage's cargo was still at the bottom. However, all my attempts to reassemble the same team to continue lifting what was found invariably ran into the strange lethargy and passivity of my recent fellow travelers. Gradually, my ardent ardor disappeared somewhere, and I, too, lost interest in the immediate continuation of the work.

Yes, in fact, why was there a hurry? I already knew where the cart was. I really didn’t want to drag back six hundred kilometers through the autumn slush for the next handful of old things and silver circles. Moreover, last time we met with many unpleasant difficulties, selling our uncomplicated finds. And after a while, other similar stories that happened to some of the search engines known to me began to come to my mind. One of them was even forced to flee the country in a hurry after a real hunt arranged on him by some government agencies, who dreamed of receiving information from him about one of his findings. After all, in our country it is often not so difficult to find a treasure, as it is difficult to realize it in a civilized manner. And not everyone wants to tremble with every knock on the door.

What practical conclusions can be drawn from this search episode? The main conclusion, in my opinion, is as follows. Before carrying out work on the extraction of certain objects under water, you should carefully study all the natural conditions accompanying the desired object, after which you need to outline the detected object as accurately as possible with the help of buoys, metal or wooden pins or ropes stretched from the shore attached to the shore. young vegetation.

Extraction work should begin only after all stages of the operation have been meticulously thought out and special equipment has been prepared for each of them. It is also desirable to “play” the forthcoming actions, including all, even the most insignificant stages of the operation, on solid ground. Firstly, this will allow all participants in this work to present themselves as a single team, and secondly, all the equipment used, even the most primitive, will be checked again. And the last thing is the diver's insurance. It cannot be neglected under any circumstances. Of course, you cannot predict everything, but the obvious things must be observed without fail. However, this is a topic of a special and rather lengthy conversation.

I would like to say a few words about the legality of our semi-underground activities. Western treasure hunters find it much easier in this respect. Practically in all developed countries there is a strict and at the same time logical system of rules and laws that allows interested people to openly and fearlessly search for rare objects or legendary treasures of interest to them. Everyone can legally buy a license or organize a search society, at worst, you can conclude an agreement with the local authorities on the division of the found property and do what you love for your own pleasure. There, a person who has found any treasure almost automatically becomes famous, respected and rich. In our country, everything happens exactly the opposite. Our search engine, being a person not only persecuted and despised by everyone, but also legally disenfranchised, is forced to hide innocently all his life and in every way disguise his intentions and actions. The laws existing in our country drive the Russian search engine into a kind of legal trap in advance, without any distinction to its actual status and initial intentions. He a priori does not have the ability to legally conduct searches and excavations in areas of interest to him. But let's think for a minute, where does this ultimately lead? To disappearances? treasure hunting? By no means, this occupation, like tillage, is practically eternal.

This thoughtless prohibition leads to the same thing as any thoughtless prohibitions - they simply begin to bypass bypass paths. They begin to conduct prospecting work under the guise of phony agreements and permits, and for excavations they prefer to bribe local officials or work at night, in every possible way disguising themselves as mushroom pickers or hunters. But this is not so scary. The most unpleasant thing happens when what you are looking for is finally found. This is where the fun begins. In the despicable, but somehow more prosperous West, a person can put up his find at an auction and receive a completely legal reward for it. What do we have? Instead of quickly and without problems getting honestly earned money by many years of hard work, our search engine is forced to secretly look for a buyer of stolen goods, constantly risking falling into the hands of criminals or official bodies. But the search engine in most cases does nothing wrong. After all, his main purpose is to study the history of his native state and look for material objects that confirm this history. Let's say, for example, that a team like our company found several tens of kilograms of old coins. So what of that? Have we stolen them, or what? No, on the contrary, they introduced this mass of precious metal into the mass of wealth of our country.

It must be admitted that our legislation quietly, but persistently pushes all search engines to secret, illegal and, what is most surprising, to unprofitable activities for the state itself. Indeed, for a license for searches, a search engine would pay the corresponding amount to the budget, regardless of the search results. The find would be legally sold, and the tax levied on such a sale would also go to the state's income ...

However, enough about the sad. All of you are probably interested in the question, did we really find the very "Golden Carriage of Marshal Ney"? I don’t know, I don’t dare to say. Quite possible. In any case, among the finds also came across two torn strips of gold foil, which could once have adorned the body of the ill-fated carriage. But the only thing I am firmly convinced of is that we have not raised everything that she was carrying before plunging forever under the Dnieper ice.