I put on my mask and entered the building. The only two sounds were the air bubbles from my tanks. I could vaguely hear the roaring waves above the sunken city.

My torch- light was useless as I shone it on the glass window slimy a film stared back at me. Even though my wetsuit was keeping the cold water at bay, I was shivering inside from the feelings of fear in that one room I had entered. What had happened in this place? I thought to myself.

Way back in the fifties, the city by the bay had been flooded by local authorities. The home owners were re-housed as their homes were covered by the water from the dam.
I could feel eyes watching me, not every tenant had left that day. The old people stayed in their houses as the water crept up the walls. Determined to die with their homes.

I kicked harder, making my way out of that room, hearing a moan as I swum through the doorway. I was berating myself for being afraid of the dead.
Sunlight streamed from above and bounced off tin letter boxes and what was left of tin roofs.

All I could hear was my heart beating and my own breathing through my mask. The next house I entered still had carpet on the floors and a gas stove lay on its' side. Making my way around this obviously wealthy person's house, something swept across my face and I panicked. Hanging from a rafter, strung up by what looked like an electrical cord, a rotting skeleton swayed in the current; one of the old people that didn't want to leave his house I guessed. His rotting clothes caught my mask.

Suddenly my two-way crackled into life and my buddy in the boat on the surface spoke to me.

"You OK down there mate?" Jimbo was a great mate, always putting others first.
"10 - 4 Jimbo. Once I find the bank I'll give a few tugs and you can haul the box up."

I swam through clouds of tiny silver fish and then I spotted the Federal Bank situated in what used to be the heart of town.

The wooden doors swung to and fro with the current - I entered the main room of the bank. So eerie, all the tellers' stalls still standing, just ready for customers. Taking my time I found the vault. My uncle had given me the numbers of the safe before he died, three years ago. And I can still hear his voice telling me where to find the loot.

It was a manual set-up, old fashioned three to the left, four to the right, five to the right and the last numbers, three to the left. The wheel was encrusted with rust; had been underwater all that time. I took my pick-hammer from my waist bag and gave the dial a few belts - finally it broke free.

As I pulled at the safe door an almighty whoosh of air pushed me backwards. Obviously a good safe, airtight. Swimming into the large vault, scattered all over the floor were empty jewellery boxes. I made my way to the row of still-sealed wall-boxes and inserted the keys into number 22. Uncle had given me these keys all that time ago when he was President of the bank.

I couldn't shift the lock, I just pulled the long box from the wall and carried it under my arm.

"I'm on my way up Jimbo," there was no reply.

Reaching our boat bobbing on the surface, I was shocked to see the boat empty. Heaving the tin box into the boat and shucking my air tank and weights into the boat. With much effort I pulled myself into our rocking getaway boat. I gasped with shock to see my friend's body lying face down in the bloody seawater.

"Jimbo, Jimbo!" I shook him and prayed he was still alive.
"Hit me bloody head, had a few drinks to celebrate our treasure chest," he grinned.

Eventually we managed to lever open the box I had brought up from the bank vault. We couldn't believe our eyes when we saw around fifty golden Guilders from the 1700's. A King's ransom to us ordinary fisher folk. And so we sat in the sun, salt drying on our brown backs finishing off the bottle of Bundy Rum that Jimbo had started. What a day, creepy place, never want to go diving there again. The outboard jumped into life and we were on our way home.