(as recorded by Eleanor Price, Provisional Member of the Order of the Great Fifth Sea)

“Good morning, dear colleagues,” I began, my voice quivering with anticipation as pale dawn crept across the aftermath of the great gale of August. “For the benefit of posterity—and future shoreline scholars—it is incumbent upon us to record our survey of Rawley Point with the utmost precision.” I brandished my notebooks and lantern, patting the three bulging satchels at my side.

“Three sunscreens?” Edwin Barlow—The Gentleman Diver—arched an eyebrow.

“Prudence,” I replied. “Citrus, aloe, and mint: a trifecta of epidermal defense.” I tapped one satchel. “And four Uncrustables—strawberry jam, mind you. Grape is the coward’s preserve.” From another pouch, I flashed my emergency deck of holographic Pokémon cards. “Posterity may scoff, but a well-timed snack or a gleaming Charizard can uplift the weariest of surveyors.”

Thomas Ashford, The Restless Engineer, fiddled with a rung of driftwood. “Once we uncover our objective, might I suggest we retrofit your lantern’s mantle into a microbarometer? A barometric chronometer–slash–compass, if you will.”

Thus equipped, we set foot on the chaotic mosaic of Rawley Point: gray driftwood ribs, reeds tangled like a cosmic cat’s cradle, and smooth lake stones glinting under an acid-blue sky. Edwin climbed a hulking log and declaimed, “Canvas dive bags outperform their nylon impostors in both tensile strength and aesthetic gravitas!” His voice boomed off the cliffs, each word measured and grand.

“Is that your final verdict?” I called.

“Unequivocally!” he declared—until he froze mid-gesture.

“By Neptune’s beard,” Thomas muttered, peering over Edwin’s shoulder. “What have you found?”

Edwin knelt; the sand sighed beneath him. “Behold!” he whispered, brushing aside the grains. “Time itself, stilled by the lake’s hand.”

In his palm lay a gold pocket watch, cracked yet shimmering, its hands arrested at 2:17. Tiny zebra mussels still clung to the hinge and inner rim, as though reluctant to surrender their claim.

I nearly dropped a half-squeezed Uncrustable into the surf.

Thomas leaned close, adjusting his lens. “Or merely waterlogged gearing,” he said. “With tinkering, I could transform it into our next expedition’s premier navigational instrument.”

At that precise moment, a rising bank of mist parted to reveal the GLRC—Great Lakes Research Consortium—clipboards clutched like bayonets. Their leader advanced with bureaucratic precision. “That pocket watch must be bagged and conveyed at once, in strict accordance with Regulation 44B.”

Edwin rose, bristling like a cornered walrus. “Regulation 44B? I discovered it!” He gripped the watch as though it pulsed with memory itself.

Thomas’s jaw tightened. “I say we settle this with dueling pistols.” His grin was half-serious, half-mad.

“Order, gentlemen!” I interposed, stepping boldly between the factions. With the wrapper of my Uncrustable, I sketched formal rules of engagement into the damp sand. “I volunteer as second, to ensure strict adherence to the Heterogeneous Accord of Shoreline Disputes, Clause VII, Paragraph 2.”

The GLRC leader’s lips twitched. “Or you could simply hand it over.”

“Mercifully,” another GLRC official interrupted—voice mellifluous yet firm—“no shots will be fired today.” He plucked the paperwork from his subordinate and, with bureaucratic flourish, whisked the watch away to an undisclosed archive.

Both sides dutifully inscribed the encounter into their ledgers. Secrets sealed, the mist reclaimed the commission as swiftly as it had revealed them.

In the days since, rumors have metastasized like unchecked zebra mussel growth: some insist Edwin drew his pistol (he did not), others whisper I attempted to bribe the GLRC with a holographic Squirtle (true—and they refused). What remains beyond dispute is this: Rawley Point bestowed upon us not merely a relic, but a narrative worthy of preservation. And while brass may tarnish and shorelines may shift, tales endure—alongside Uncrustables, which, I can attest, survive nearly anything.

— Eleanor Price, Provisional Member, humbly submitted for the record

Appendix A: Artifact Record — Rawley Point Watch

• Form: Gold pocket watch, approx. 2 inches across.
  
  

Condition: Glass face cracked, hinge dented, hands stopped at 2:17. Tarnished but intact.