Aryx awakens in the morning to the scent of a meal cooking. Suddenly extremely hungry, Aryx quickly gets out of bed and steps outside into the warm sunlight. He sees that the men are guarding the camp, which now has a sturdy wall of large logs and timber all around it. 

"Captain Aryx is awake!" Jon, the ship's longest serving carpenter says. The men all wave to Aryx as he walks out of the tent. "You boys have outdone yourselves with this encampment. Let's have a shanty, shall we?" Aryx calls. The men break into song.

O' sweet n' hearty be the wind 

Unfurlin' sails to homeward send 

With cap'n Aryx at our side, sayin'

'Give 'em hell boys o' Give 'em hell'

'Then come dark ye's rest a spell'

O' sweet n' hearty be the wind

Unfurlin' sails to homeward send

O' Young Aryx ye's fierce n' bold

Forever and ever y'er story told

O' even when we're gray and old

O' sweet n' hearty be the wind

Unfurlin' sails to homeward send

Great honor it be ta sail with ye

With Pride, young Aryx a fillin' is me 

A'ring in the great halls our tales will be

O' sweet n' hearty be the wind 

Unfurlin sails to homeward send

Hey!

Aryx is honored by the men's song, and gathers them near. "Cap, we're with you to the end. We know by your command we'll find whatever treasures be a'lyin here." Says O'Malley, the cook's assistant. "Aye, I'll lead you. If there is gold to be had, we will find it." Aryx replies. "That said, let's get to searching, lads!" 

The men gather their guns, Aryx choosing a fine English Flintlock musket plated in polished brass. They begin their trek into the dense jungle of the island, each man keeping a watchful eye on the men next to him as they sweep the area in a single horizontal line. Aryx feels a sudden ache in his arms and shoulders. Supposing it might just be the weight of the rifle, he ignores it. 

The men reach a sandy clearing about ten feet across and twenty long, spotting the haft of a broken shovel jutting out of the sand. "You know what that means lads, dig to your heart's content." Aryx says, leaning his gun against a tree and taking a seat next to it. He noticed the strange soreness in his arms and shoulders was spreading through his whole body. Silently, he hoped he hadn't gotten scurvy. 

But upon thinking on it more, he realises his teeth were in perfect shape, and he always made sure to eat an orange at every meal, as his father had told him to since he was young. "Can't be scurvy..." He mutters. 

His thoughts then returned to the beast that had nearly killed him the previous day, and the stories of similar creatures that were told by his grandfather. It was said in these stories that a bite or scratch from the creature could turn the victim into a beast themselves. 

"Lycans." Aryx thought aloud. He then quickly unrolled the bandages on his hands to examine the wounds left by the monster's fangs. The skin around the bite marks had a silvery darkness to it, striking fear deep into Aryx's heart. He rewraps the bandages and presses on, telling none of the men of his condition. 

The jungle grows quiet as the men struggle to cleave through a particularly dense wall of vines and foliage. Aryx approaches to assist, taking his saber in his right hand and heaving it through the greenery with ease, clearing away a path with the strength and speed of ten men. "Yea! Go captain!" The men cheer as they marvel at his impressive feat. 

Aryx felt proud of himself but still couldn't shake the looming fear that this was some kind of sign. A sign that he was losing his humanity, trading it for something far more bestial. He forced it from his mind, and went on. The men seemed to notice their captain's state of distress but chalked it up to be his painful wounds. 

With the way clear, the men wheeled in their bombs to assist in the digging. Blast after blast, they cleared away a hole ten feet across and twenty deep, before another bomb exposed something rather strange buried in the ground. Several big oak logs, lain down horizontally and close together to form a sort of floor. Beneath them, another layer of logs, and under them seemingly another. 

The men soon realized what a danger it was to continue blasting, as with each detonation a flurry of sharp splinters, some a foot long or more, were sent flying into the air with great speed. They came to Aryx for guidance. "Someone's gonna get real hurt if we keep this up cap." MacFoley says. "Aye. Have we a saw on the ship?" Aryx asks. "I reckon we do, I'll send a few boys to fetch it." The  first mate replies, whistling for a pair of stockier shipmates to fetch the saw. 

The men return a moment later, getting to work on sawing into one of the logs. "This here was a mighty oak once. Wood's still strong too. Say cap, why don't we try just haulin' it out in one piece rather n' cuttin' it to bits?" Jon says. "Haul away, Jon." Aryx says approvingly, helping to set up a pulley system to drag the heavy logs from their earthen tomb. 

"These look like they were buried yesterday." Aryx mutters, seeing that the logs were still somewhat green. "Which means the owner could still be afoot, be very cautious lads." Aryx says, suddenly uneasy.

The crew manages to move two layers of logs onto the surface, each around thirty feet long and three across. The logs are dragged back to the ship and stowed, and Aryx returns to the pit. A shimmer catches his eye. He reaches into the fine sand, withdrawing a single gold coin, stout and heavy, as big as his hand. "We've got gold lads! Gather 'round!" He shouts in excitement." The men cast their hats into the air upon seeing the giant coin, and all hop into the pit to uncover the rest. 

By the end of that night, the ship carried an estimate of 1000 pounds of gold. After a very joyous celebration, Aryx returned to his quarters, hung his coat and saber belt, shook the sand from his boots and changed into bedclothes. He climbed into his bed with a tired sigh, and was carried away by the waves of sleep