Rick Lagina: “We Found MILLIONS In Looted Treasure On Oderin Island”

Water on top of a lot of muddy, silty, nastiness.
So, you know, it’s difficult.
Uh Tony’s up for it, though.
And if anybody can figure it out, I think he can.

The name Peter Eastston means history, power, and unimaginable wealth.
For Rick Laggina, that name led him to a desolate spot in Canada, Odorin Island.
There, a small body of water was said to conceal the pirates’s entire fortune.
It was a wild story, a local legend.
But Rick and his team were there with divers and technology to turn that legend into reality.

The island of lost fortunes.
Rick Legina felt the raw biting wind of the North Atlantic on his face.
A familiar feeling that always signaled the start of a new adventure.
This however was not Oak Island.
He and his brother Marty along with their trusted team stood on the northeast side of Odin Island.

All the parties that have been involved, the historical accounts have been handed down verbal, oral traditions, plus written accounts.
A remote 10-mi stretch of rock and hardy grass off the southern coast of Newfoundland, Canada.
The land itself felt ancient and secretive.
It was a place where stories were born and buried.

Their guide, a researcher named Bill Smith, had a conviction that was absolutely contagious.
He led them over uneven, rugged terrain, his excitement growing with every step.
The walk was long, testing their endurance, but no one complained.
They were on the verge of something monumental.

Truth be told, the very air on Odaran seemed thick with history.
This wasn’t just a random spot on a map.
It was the heart of a legend.

Bill stopped them at the crest of a small hill overlooking a dark still pond.
He believed this was it, the final resting place of a treasure of unbelievable value.
The fortune in question belonged to none other than the infamous 17th century English pirate Peter Eastston.

Eastston wasn’t just any pirate.
He was a naval commander turned sea rover, a man who commanded a fleet of 10 powerful ships and terrorized the Spanish treasure fleets.
He was for a time the most successful and feared pirate in the world.
And historical accounts placed him right here on this very island.

The team, including the everenthusiastic Mattie Blake and expert diver Tony Samson, gathered around the pond.
The question of whether Eastston had truly used Odaren as his base of operations was not up for debate.
Historians, researchers, and local families all agreed.
The consensus was overwhelming, built on centuries of oral traditions passed down from generation to generation and supported by written accounts from the era.

Bill Smith was more than certain.
He claimed to be 99% sure that Eastston had dominated this island.
The real mystery, the great conjecture that had brought them all here was what lay hidden beneath the surface of that murky water.

The legends were specific and tantalizing.
They didn’t just speak of treasure, but of an ingeniously constructed underwater vault, a secret that had been protected by mud and water for over 400 years.

Staring down at the pond, Rick felt a surge of familiar anticipation mixed with caution.
The pond was exactly as the legends had described it, a dark mirror reflecting the barren, windswept landscape.
The island was far more rugged than he had imagined.
There were no mighty oaks here, only low-lying shrubs and rock.

This single fact was the key to the entire mystery.
The most persistent part of the legend was that the pond was artificially lined with thick oak planks.
If that were true, it would be an earthshattering discovery.
Those planks would have had to be transported here by ship.
A massive undertaking that would only be done for one reason, to build something of incredible importance.

This wasn’t just a hole in the ground filled with water.
The theory was that Eastston’s men had dug out this pond, lined it with oak to create a stable box-like structure, and then filled it with their looted treasure chests.
To hide their work, they were said to have engineered a flood tunnel connected to a nearby natural spring, allowing water to rush in and conceal the vault forever.

“Get suited up.”
“Looks like I got another phone, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.”

Bill Smith pointed out a strange anomaly his research had uncovered.
A feature in the landscape that suggested a man-made channel running from the spring and stopping abruptly at the edge of the pond.
It was a peculiar detail, something that shouldn’t exist in nature.
It was the kind of sophisticated engineering the Lginina brothers had seen before on Oak Island.

Hiding things underwater was a classic pirate tactic.
It was brilliant in its simplicity.
Who would think to search the bottom of a random pond on a remote island?
The water, silt, and mud would provide the perfect cover, protecting the valuables from weather and prying eyes for centuries.

For Rick, if Tony Samson could dive into that pond and confirm the presence of an oaklined bottom, it would change everything.
It would elevate the story from a compelling legend to a verifiable, active treasure hunt.

The time for talk was over.
It was time to see if the 400-year-old story was true.
But as Tony suited up, a heavy silence fell over the team.
The weight of four centuries of waiting pressing down on them all.

Tony Samson was no stranger to difficult dives, but this was on another level.
As he prepared his gear, he admitted his excitement.
He had heard so much about this pond from Bill, and now he had the chance to be the first person in modern history to touch its secrets.

This was his opportunity to prove or disprove the legend of Peter Eastston’s horde once and for all.
He called it another day in the muck, but everyone knew this was different.

Diving in mud is one of the most challenging and dangerous things a diver can do.
There is no visibility, no sense of direction.
It is a completely blind operation.
The water was a shallow layer on top of a deep, thick pit of silty, nasty mud.
The challenge was immense.

Tony would have to rely entirely on his sense of touch and the feedback from his metal detector.
This was what the team called a braille dive, feeling your way through a world of total blackness.

Rick and Marty watched with baited breath as Tony slipped beneath the surface, the murky water closing over his head.
The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the air compressor and the anxious whispers of the team.
They were all in Tony’s hands now.

Once in the water, Tony confirmed their worst fears.
Zero visibility.
He began his search, sweeping his metal detector from side to side, moving forward inch by agonizing inch.

On the surface, the team watched the bubbles.
Their only connection to the man below.

Tony’s voice, slightly distorted through the calm system, reported what he was feeling.
The bottom was nothing but silt, a fine, deep muck that he could sink into up to his shoulder without hitting anything solid.
The sheer depth of the mud was astonishing.
It was a perfect preservative capable of hiding anything for centuries.

Minutes felt like hours.
The team scanned the surface of the pond, looking for any sign, any disturbance that might signal a discovery.

“There’s no way something should be there.”
“There are so many legends about hiding things underwater and it appears to work.”

Then a piece of dark waterlogged wood floated to the surface.
Then another.
The team’s excitement grew.

Down below, Tony was no longer just feeling silt.
His hands were making contact with something solid, something man-made.
He could feel timber planks arranged in a way that felt like they were part of a larger structure, perhaps a box system or a drainage channel.

He knew he couldn’t identify these artifacts by touch alone.
He had to bring something up for the team to see.
He had found something solid, something real, but what he was about to send to the surface was far more complex than simple planks of wood.
A puzzle from the past.

The tension on the shore was electric.
Suddenly, Tony surfaced, holding a collection of dark, muddy timbers.
The team rushed to help him.
The pieces were heavy and awkward, covered in the same stinking swamp muck they knew so well from Oak Island.

But as they laid the artifacts on the ground, a collective gasp went through the group.
This wasn’t just random driftwood.
This was worked wood.
These were planks cut and shaped by human hands.

One piece in particular caught everyone’s eye.
“Is there any doubt amongst, let’s say, conventional historians that Peter Eastston was here on this island, that he had this as part of his dominion?”

It was clearly part of something constructed with intricate notches cut into both ends.
They looked almost like pieces of a puzzle designed to fit together perfectly.

Mattie Blake suggested it could be part of an old crate, a treasure chest perhaps.
Tony agreed, adding that the way the timbers were arranged in the mud, it felt like they were boxing something in, protecting it.

The question was, were these cuts fabricated with modern tools or were they done by hand centuries ago?
The marks on the wood were precise.

Bill Smith, looking closely at the craftsmanship, noted that incredible work was done by hand back then, using simple fret and coping saws.
The beautiful French furniture of the 17th century was a testament to what skilled artisans could accomplish.

As they cleaned more mud from one of the pieces, the discovery became even more astounding.
They were looking at a dovetail joint.

This style of joinery, where interlocking pins and tails create an incredibly strong bond, was widely used in Western Europe during the 16th and 17th centuries.
It was a hallmark of quality craftsmanship from Peter Eastston’s exact time period.

The implications were staggering.
This wasn’t just a random piece of wood.
It was a direct link to the 17th century.
It was hard physical evidence that a sophisticated man-made structure existed at the bottom of that pond, a structure built using techniques common in Eastston’s era.

They had just recovered tangible proof supporting the legend.
Tony confirmed there were heaps more of it down below.
The bottom of the pond was definitely lined with timber.
They had their proof.
The legend was real.

But this incredible discovery also presented a new, more complicated problem.
The discovery of the 17th century dovetail joint was a massive victory.
But it was also just the beginning.

The excitement was tempered by a harsh reality.
The conditions in the pond were simply too difficult and dangerous for a diver to effectively excavate.
The thick, deep muck and zero visibility made a systematic search impossible.

They could bring up pieces of wood, but finding smaller metallic objects like coins or treasure chests by hand would be like finding a needle in a hay stack the size of a football field.

They had confirmed the what — if this pond is actually lined with oak planks.
Well, for one thing, look around.
A wooden structure from East’s time, but they still didn’t know the where.

Where precisely within that structure might the treasure be?
Rick and the team knew they needed a different approach.
They needed to see through the mud.

This was a job for advanced technology.
The plan shifted.
They would pause the dive and bring in the drone team.

They would equip a high-powered drone with a magnetometer, a device capable of detecting magnetic anomalies in the ground.
By flying a precise grid pattern over the pond, the magnetometer could map any metal objects hidden beneath the layers of silt and wood planking.

It was their best shot at finding a specific target.
If Peter Eastston had left a significant part of his treasure down there — cannons, chests filled with gold and silver, iron hardware — the magnetometer would find it.

This technology could give them what Tony’s heroic dive couldn’t.
A clear picture, a treasure map with a GPS coordinate marking the spot.

The drone expert, Jordan Banister, prepared his equipment as the rest of the team secured the wooden artifacts.
The mood was one of optimistic patience.
They had made a historic find, but the biggest prize was still out of reach, hidden under feet of mud.

As the drone lifted into the air, its quiet hum replacing the loud thrum of the dive compressor, everyone knew the next few days of waiting would be agonizing.
The data collected by the drone would need to be processed and analyzed, a complex task that would take time.

The drone completed its scan, a silent hunter seeking a metallic ghost.
The team packed up, their minds racing with possibilities.
They had found the treasure box.
Now they had to find out if anything was still inside it.

Days later, the results were in.
The team gathered, the air thick with anticipation.
The magnetometer scan was their window into the pond’s muddy heart.

The processed data painted a stunning picture on the computer screen.
It showed the entire pond not as a body of water, but as a map of magnetic signatures.
And right in the middle of it, there was an anomaly so large, so clear that it couldn’t be natural.

It was a massive rectangular shape, a magnetic ghost lying directly beneath the area where Tony had found the wooden planks.
The shape was undeniably man-made.
Its sharp angles and defined borders were completely out of place with the natural geology of the area.

It was a huge metallic target, far bigger than a single treasure chest.
The reading suggested a significant mass of ferris metal consistent with multiple cannons, piles of iron goods or numerous chests reinforced with iron bands and filled with precious metals.

The digital data confirmed everything.
The oral traditions, the historical accounts, the oak planks, the dovetail joint — it all led to this.
They were looking at the digital shadow of Peter Eastston’s treasure vault.

The team was ecstatic.
This was the smoking gun, the treasure map they had dreamed of.
They now had the exact coordinates.
They knew precisely where to dig.

The mystery of Odorin Island was on the verge of being solved.
All thanks to a combination of old-fashioned research and cuttingedge technology.

The next step was clear.
Mount a full-scale excavation targeted on that exact spot.
The potential reward was millions.
A fortune that had waited 400 years to be found.

They found the box and the map to what’s inside.
The only thing left is to open it.
But after four centuries, should a pirate’s legendary treasure belong to the finders or to the world?

Like and subscribe for more.