The Adventures of Fireman Bob. P4

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Filed under: Detecting Diary, Fireman Bob — Norfolk Wolf

Part four. Bob gets into gold and I find a hoard.

It took old Bob the best part of a week to come down to earth after his pocket-full of finds of last time. Blimey, Celtic, Roman and early Medieval silver coins, a smattering of Roman bronzes topped off with the odd one or two medieval artefacts; so would anyone else with a pocketful like that.

That was three weeks ago, but they do say “another day another dollar”, let’s hope that it’s not a dime instead today. We were both ready to rock an’ roll with a bit of mettlin’ on that Tuesday morning, so I duly arrived my normal half an hour late. (Man of habit, that’s me). I can’t blame it on having to make sandwiches either, as Bob’s missus takes pity on me and includes some for me in his lunch-bag. (Lovely grub). Talking of habits, it’s always a ritual of mine to water the old horse in the same spot each time as soon as I arrive, then a quick drink and a drag on the old nicotine stick, that’s me set up for the mornings detecting. Meanwhile Bob is bouncing around itching to get on with it. Like I keep on a tellin’ him. “The stuff ain’t going anywhere, it’s been laying there for close on 2,000 years; it ain’t likely to get up and move in the next half an hour, now is it?”

The previous times that we had done the site, we had left the areas where the stinging nettles and brambles were a bit on the overgrown size; but we found that we were beginning to move out of the more productive areas. So it would be back to try the overgrown areas in the hope of nailing the site down.

I have an admission to make, one that makes me cringe with embarrassment, so I might just as well get it over with, I left my cordless headphones hanging on a tree the last time we were here and forgot all about them in the rush to get back to the car out of the rain. I didn’t notice them missing until a few days later when I wanted to test some bits and pieces with the machine.

At £130 a go, that’s a lot of dosh to leave hanging on a tree in all the rain we’ve been having. Mind you it took me as long as it takes to ransack a house and garage and then the car, with a repeat performance in reverse before I even began to think of the woods! You know what? I made a special trip down (it was absolutely thrashing it down with rain) and went straight to them. Thank goodness we were doing the site block by block; I could have been there all year! The amazing part was that they had taken no harm and were still working!

Don’tcha just feel so relieved when there’s a happy (and cheap) ending? Whaddayer mean the dozy old sod is losin’ his marbles? Anyway back to the story.

Here’s my reasoning why should we bother hacking our way through all these nettles when there’s hundreds of acres of clear detecting elsewhere to have a go at. Why should there be lane after lane of pine trees with just needles on the floor and yet there are one or two areas that are overgrown with nettles; when all the trees are the same age? I can remember being told that nettles can signify previous habitation from an earlier period and seeing that the finds we made had no obvious nucleus, these areas might hold the key. Of course it would be better if we visited them in the winter after they had died back a bit, but I already had a very productive site earmarked with just that in mind. It would be worth a go anyway.

I started having second thoughts when we got there, Christ the bloody things were higher than the handles of our detectors! “What’s up Bob?” “Gloves?” “Only pansies wear gloves, yer get stung a few times an’ yer won’t even notice ‘em”. (I took a masters degree in lying).

The first sweep with the coil was alright ‘cos you could lay them nettles flat, but when you reversed the sweep, the buggers sprung back and gave you a right lashing. The air was ripe with some really quaint Old Saxon sayings going on between us. Throw in the odd bramble or two and we were struggling. Luckily we hit the odd patches now and again where they petered out a little. Signals were few and far between and by the time we took a break, a well corroded and worn Roman coin and a couple of bits of misshapen bronze were all we had to show for our efforts.

We sat there munching Bob’s sandwiches and rolls, arguing who had the most stings.

“Yeah, but you got to agree it beats lion tamin’ with a blindfold on, don’t it Bob?”

Eyeing up the next tract that we had to do, at least we could see that the going looked a lot easier.

Funny what you talk about at times when yer out mettlin’isn’t it? Sorry Stuart, metal detecting. (I’ve been told orf by the people that run this site about my choice of words)

“I’ve always had this dream about owning a Harley Davidson John; everything that I find will be going towards getting one”. “That’s a great idea Bob, with what you’ve found so far mate, you should get you at least a mudguard and a back light. A bit more an’ you can afford the bulb! C’mon let’s get cracking on the next bit”.

You couldn’t have scripted what happened next if you tried. I’d covered about fifteen paces when old Bob just about deafened me “I’ve found Gold” he yelled. “Speak up a bit mate, there’s a woman in that village 5 miles away can’t quite hear you”. He came rushing over to show me his find; he was shaking that much with excitement and had this big wide grin on his face. “Bugger, she’s a nice one Bob, an absolute cracker, well done mate”. It was gold and a big coin at that.

Looking at the reverse it definitely looked European and instead of a bust on the obverse it had a shield, but part of the legend read “Carolus” (Charles). I hazarded a guess at it being French Medieval; it really was a lovely piece. What a smashing reward for what he’d gone through all morning, absolutely brilliant. “Have you checked the hole and dug down another spit mate, you never know?” But that was the only one.

Blimey, with all this excitement I had to have a roll up for the pair of us as Bob doesn’t smoke.

Now with the adrenaline kicked in we set to with our mood sky high.

We gave that next area some real welly that afternoon, got our heads down and detected hard, but it looked like the gods weren’t going to allow us anymore. The thought went through my head “Well even if we find nothing else, it’s still been a brilliant day for one of us at least”. When I heard the tiniest of signals, it was very faint but it was good. I looked up to let Bob know, but he was about 50 yards ahead.( we always give the other a call as it then keeps both of us on our toes knowing that at least there is something about).

I dug a spit-full out and the tiny signal increased, it was still good. Dug a couple more and now it was loud and clear, with no hint of iron whatsoever. Still digging down and now it’s quicker to scoop the sandy soil out using both hands. The flints in the soil are cutting my fingers but who’s bothered? It surely has got to be a hoard at this depth; the signal is still as sweet as anything. It looks like you are going to get the rest of that Harley this afternoon Bob with a bit of luck… By now I gone beyond the depth of the whole spade, (black Ada, 2ft long) and could just lunge at the bottom of the hole, when I hit something solid. I scooped the soil out and felt what seemed like a small metal canister! Carefully prodding the spade, I could just make out the rim. Because of the depth, I can’t see what I’m doing; just going by feel and I carefully scrape the soil away and bring it to the surface. What the ***** hell is a *****tin can, ****doing, over two ****foot down, in these***** woods. What sort of*** lunatic would go to all that **** trouble!! (I think that woman in the village might just have heard that!)

We have never found anything deeper than six inches at the most. But it wasn’t an ordinary tin can, oh no, this one had one of those lids that press on. I prised the lid off and there inside the can nestled four miniature whiskey bottles. All of them Empty!

After filling in the hole, I had to laugh, I got me a hoard alright, a hoard of miniature whiskey bottles! Bob wasn’t going to get his Harley this afternoon after all and I didn’t even have anything to drink to drown my sorrows.

Now that’s metal detecting for you.

I bet you are all a wonderin’ what me and Fireman Bob get up to next time, aren’t you?

Have a look at his beautiful coin; I didn’t have the heart to spoil the effect with my tin can and whiskey bottles. John

Bob’s beautiful find. It has been identified as an Escudo of Charles 1st and Joanna of Spain. 1537.