Ahoy, you scallywags with your rum drinks in hand. Aye, the lot of you! You pirate types have been scheming, feasting & drawing maps for years, talking to the parrot when you overdose on the “arr mateys!” & pine for new tales. Haven’t you? But the treasure is still, after all this time, buried and unfound.
Maybe it’s time to change tactics. Change the temperature, in fact.
Because that’s the problem, me hearties: you’re all keeping too warm!
You’re staying too cautious. You remain unwilling to take your ships to the coldest waters, too lily-livered & petunia-precious to dive down to the ocean floor under Antarctica where the ruins of Atlantis just might be resting. Pearls & gold bullion & all that. Near-frozen treasure glinting in the phosphorescent-fishlight.
None of this Caribbean holiday stuff. You must brace yourselves for the harsh Antarctic Ocean waters. It’s time to start training.
Blimey, but it’s a hot summer day! you say.
I say: Sink me! You’ll not bluster out of this one. Me hearties, take the first step today: acclimatize your mouth to cold.
Second training step: ummm. (I’m looking to the parrot here but she’s pretending to sleep.)
Blimey, try this! Email the good folk who hawk the Bone Chillers ice cube trays. Maybe they know a cold-water diver with a combination of experience in channeling Blackbeard, seeking Atlantis & managing treasure fever. Don’t ask me, I’m just the landlubber makin’ the drinks here.
meg walker 