The Race for Riches
Under the sea, treasure hunters and scientists battle for history's bounty
There are also questions over whether foreign wrecks in American waters can be deemed abandoned. At the debate's center is Ben Benson of Sea Hunt Inc., who invested over $1 million of his personal fortune to locate two Spanish galleons off Virginia. Before he could commence salvage, Spain, at the behest of the U.S. Justice Department, claimed the wrecks as sovereign property. The United States, says Jim Gould, a lawyer representing Spain, wants to accord foreign ships the same treatment it would like for its own sunken vessels. "The important principle is that these ships are military gravesites, and anything that is done with them must respect those sensitivities," he says. Peter Hess, Benson's attorney, detects a darker motive: "Their goal here is to control all the Spanish shipwrecks in United States waters, so their own government-funded archaeologists can go out there and treasure hunt with public funds." In April, a federal judge ruled that the Juno, lost in 1802, is still Spain's, but La Galga, lost in 1750, could be salvaged by Benson, thanks to a 1763 treaty in which King Charles III renounced all his North American possessions. An appeal is pending.
In the works. There are even rumblings of an international ban on treasure hunting. The United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) is discussing an edict that would outlaw the commercial salvage of any shipwreck more than 100 years old. There is also talk of ordering that all artifacts be returned to their countries of origin. Outraged treasure hunters have formed an organization, the Institute of Marine Archaeological Conservation (IMAC), to lobby against the measures. "[UNESCO] really has no concept of private property or ownership," complains Hess, who is active in IMAC. "They don't understand [that] some of the best archaeological work has been done by the private sector." Even if the ban comes to pass, there are serious doubts about how effectively governments can police three quarters of the Earth's surface.
As the UNESCO delegates bicker, more immediate legal troubles are on the mind of Phil Masters. He expects to be sued by several competing parties trying to stake a claim the instant he finds El Salvador. And he predicts a good five to 10 years will elapse before the ship yields all its riches, a process that will require an additional $5 million to $10 million in capital. Yet he couldn't be happier, awakening early each morning in his cramped house across from a used-car lot, preparing for another day of magnetometer runs--it beats, by a country mile, riding the subway to a desk job. "The hunt and the passion for history is really what keeps me going," he says. "The actual discovery will be somewhat anticlimactic."
But $124 million worth of treasure will tickle even the purest heart, and Masters, who wears a 1737 gold escudo around his neck, is no exception. "You can't believe how people react when they see some gold," he says. "They get a whiff, and they become animals." With a twinkling eye, he adds, "I look forward to being like that."
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