Jim is the key to unlock chest
Uncovers mementoes from Tasman’s era
Foxton man Jim Harper loves a challenge and a good ol’ treasure hunt. The antiques restorer, clocks and music box collector, and microengineer was presented with a locked chest that belonged to a ship sailed by Abel Tasman, and tasked with finding a way inside.
Te Awahou Riverside Cultural Park marketing manager Arjan van der Boon shoulder-tapped Harper for the job after the museum was gifted the chest by a Dutch supporter from Tauranga.
Estimated to have been made between 1620-1650, it arrived in Foxton in 2017. Somehow the key to unlocking the chest had become locked inside.
“Unfortunately the chest was selflocking,” he said. The chest had remained tightly locked ever since it had arrived, arousing the imagination of youngsters at the thought it held treasure.
That’s when van der Boon handed the chest to Harper.
“He reckoned he could lock-pick things, and guaranteed to do no damage whatsoever. I said “Sure, go for it”, absolutely convinced that Jim would not be able to overcome solid and secure Dutch safeguarding of treasure, gold, invaluable sea maps and coins ... ,” he said
“For two days, I heard Jim sighing and muttering inaudible and possibly unrepeatable things under his breath, working up a sweat downstairs, some 20 metres from my ‘office’.”
“Then, to my great amazement, he came to see me, with a huge smile
on his face — beckoning me to follow him. With a wide array of tools spread around the floor, there she was. The chest with an open lid. As if nothing had ever happened.”
Harper said when he opened the lid there was no treasure inside — just old books, a copper coffee pot, but most importantly, the massive iron key.
Van der Boon tipped his hat to Harper, but more work was ahead.
“The lid has five ultra-strong spring latch bolts, so this is not a key you can just turn with the strength of your bare hands,” he said.
“Jim had slightly wedged open each single latch bolt — one after the other — with pieces of wood and metal, until he finally freed the fifth one.”
“After Jim proudly showing me how the mechanism all still worked smoothly after 400 years, I asked him to close the lid and open it — so I could shoot a video for all the museum trust members around the country.”
“And then . . . two bolts malfunctioned, kind of slipped out of their old fastenings that had worked themselves loose, and decided to stay closed forever.
“So that no 21st century pirate could ever open that chest again.”
“But Jim, being a stubborn character, decided that since he’d done it once, he could do it again. And after another day of sweat and mutterings, that lid is now open. The mechanism is fixed.”
“And a local engineer has created the construction that keeps the lid open safely, into the future. We’ve done this, so that visitors can admire the ‘post-medieval’ engraving of a mermaid family on the inside of the lid.”
“The mystery around the chest does continue. We’ve found out they are worth some $20,000. There was an entire treasure chest manufacturing industry in Germany and Spain at the time.
“But the The Netherlands’ national Maritime museum and Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam don’t know much about these chests, and can’t help us tell the story.”
“Still… our engineering detective Jim made another discovery — a clue really. The bottom of the chest has a hole.
“It seems like this was used to bolt it — probably — to the deck of a ship.”
“So not only would Tasman have had a treasure chest on board of his ships. This particular one would probably have been used in Tasman’s days — for exactly that purpose.”
“We’ve recently also been gifted a model of one of Tasman’s ships. So that is sitting next to the chest now.
“And that plinth will get lights installed to light up the mermaid, her daughter and her merman — and the surrounding tulips.”
The Oranjehof museum had recently acquired a miniature of one of Tasman’s ships — De Zeehaen — that was estimated to have taken thousands of hours to make.
Harper said by post-medieval times some highly effective security systems had been designed for treasure chests on the ships.
In the age of Spanish exploration the Spanish developed iron strongboxes (Caja Fuerte de Hierro) that were ideal for transporting treasure from the New World to Europe,” he said.
“The Dutch East India Company was an early adopter of these Spanish strongboxes and used them to transport gold, documents and other items in support of their extensive East India trade. Commonly known today as armada (navy) chests, these were the high security of the era. Abel Tasman would have had one or more of these armada chests on his ships when he sailed from Batavia (Indonesia) in 1642 to search for southern lands.”
“To distract and delay thieves, the box is designed with a fake keyhole in a prominent position on the front panel while the real keyhole is hidden under a moveable section of iron strap on the lid.
“Two big padlocks give extra security. These features would be enough on their own but finally, even when using the real key, it requires so much torque to turn it that a lever, inserted through the key bow, is needed — because the key is working against all five strong latch springs.”
“It’s not as easy to get into the contents of a treasure chest as it appears in movies like Pirates of the Carribbean, where the pirates dig up a long-sought treasure chest and then, with a couple of whacks, pop it open.”
“In reality, they’d probably be sweating in island heat for hours on end hacking at the lid in an attempt to batter it open.”