Pirate’s Booty

a duel. Up until the late eighteenth century, those duels were mostly carried out with swords, until guns became the weapon of choice. Funny enough, the object of a duel wasn't to kill the other person. It was only to achieve a sense of justice that honor had been restored to the wronged party. Now, a duel was considered an appropriate way to seek retribution for a long time. But what happened if someone felt that their honor had been besmirched in a less serious way? Where did they go

for satisfaction? Well, if they were a German college student in eighteen seventy one, then they had an alternative. According to a book from that time, students at Leipsick University would challenge each other to a special kind of face off, but not one that would leave the other side bleeding out from a bullet wound. Rather, they might pass out from drinking too much alcohol. They were called beer duels, and they were part of a lengthy set of rules

known as the Beer Code. According to the Code, students usually male students, that is, would be split off into two groups depending on their drinking abilities. Newcomers were called foxes, while experienced drinkers were referred to as beer boys. A fox could become a beer boy either by waiting two semesters or passing a drinking test. Often, beer boys would challenge each other to different drinking related competitions, such as who could drink the most beer in a given period

of time. Anyone who declined the challenge faced ridicule and embarrassment and even more drinking. But sometimes things got out of hand and one drinker would offend a beer boy. They might call them a name, like a sage or a beer baby. When that happened, the wronged party would challenge the offender to a beer duel. But there were no swords or pistols in a beer duel. The only weapon allowed was beer. I know you didn't see that one coming, did you? And the rules were surprisingly complex.

Different challenges and responses were often given depending on whether the offense had been carried out on purpose or accidentally. Sometimes the offended party had to demand a beer duel himself, and other times the offender had the option to call for a duel either way, though these incidents always ended the same way. Everyone drank a lot, and just as with an actual duel involving weapons, challengers and challenges had to choose their own second or representatives to handle the

logistics of each confrontation. Umpires maintained order and officiated the proceedings as well. Considering these were drunk college students drinking the night away, their rules were thorough and impressive. Now, beer duels were only one manner of retribution. Beer boys had other ways to demand justice for perceived offenses, such as the order x plano. This gave any beer boy the right to force a fox to drink, usually to

teach them a lesson for being too arrogant. Refusal to drink led to more shame for the fox, and this extended beyond the university. According to the rule book, any man of a higher semester drinking in a nearby beer village had the right to force someone lower to them to drink, and if that person refused, the challenger was allowed to dump his beer on their head. And finally, the university beer code had something called the grand seravis.

This was reserved for those times when everybody has been drinking for a while and they were too far gone to see reason. If a beer boy felt insulted by someone's remarks late into the evening, the grand seravus was the equivalent of sworn testimony in a court of law. Only what someone saw or heard during the course of the evening could be spoken of in order to put the matter to bed for good. The grand Seravus was

not to be used frivolously. It was the last resort to settle any and all disputes, so as to avoid further arguments or worse. I suppose it seems the Germans have always been serious about their beer. The beer Code is perfect evidence of their dedication. To offend a beer boy was no joke. Lest you wanted to wind up an object of ridicule or find yourself being peeled off the floor after passing out from drinking. Perhaps something could

be learned from their rule book. Maybe we could avoid a lot more problems in the world if we shared a beer or three together every now and then. And to that I say cheers. The sun blazed overhead as the crowd gathered in the square, fanning themselves in the tropical heat. Their soft murmurs quieted as the man of the hour was led to his place on the gallows. It was July seventh of seventeen thirty. Before the day was out, the pirate Olivier Lavasieur would meet his end.

As the crowd watched, the wind weathered pirate pulled something free from the strap around his neck. It was a small locket. Find my treasure, he said in the French, hardened by the wind and the waves, And as he threw the necklace into the crowd, he shouted his last words. Only one may understand it. Olivier Lavasieur's life ended that hot summer day on the island of law Reunion, a French colony off the coast of Madagascar, but his legend

was only beginning. Inside the dead man's locket was a code that hid the location of one of the greatest buried treasures in history, Olivier Lavasieur wasn't always a pirate.

Born sometime in the late sixteen eighties to a wealthy family in northern France, he initially studied to become an architect in the early seventeen hundreds, though he set his sights instead on a naval career, so when France became involved in the War of Spanish Secession, he received permission from the king to sail as a privateer, plundering enemy

ships for the glory of France. By the time the war ended in seventeen fourteen, Olivier found that he had a taste for murder and mayhem on the high seas, so when he was ordered to return to Paris instead, he became a pirate, sailing under his own flag. Olivier quickly gained a fearsome reputation too. He was known by some as the Buzzard for the way that he stripped gold from a ship like meat from a carcass. Others called him the mouth in honor of the vicious verbal

lashings that he would give to his victims. He struck terror cross the high seas, plundering ships from the Caribbean and West Africa, all the way to the Indian Ocean, which is where in seventeen twenty one he launched his most famous attack. In April of that year, Olivier happened upon a Portuguese galleon named Our Lady of the Cape, leaving the Indian ports of Goa, ladened with treasures. Our Lady had run into a storm, and, fearing that she

would sink, had dumped any extra weight. In this case, that meant all seventy two of her cannons. Olivier and her crew captured the ship easily and made off with thousands of pounds of treasure. However, their biggest prize was a huge cross of solid gold studded with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. The heist was legendary, and Olivier and his crew were rich men a thousand times over. The story even made its way into Robert Louis Stevenson's novel Treasure Island.

In seventeen twenty four, the French government offered amnesty to any remaining French pirates sailing the seas. All they would have to do is give up a large share of their riches. Unwilling to part with his fortune, Olivier refused amnesty and was hunted for six years. Finally, he was caught in Madagascar in seventeen thirty and sentenced to hang, and moments before he died, he tossed that necklace to

the crowd, which contained a cryptogram with seventeen lines. Hidden somewhere in the code was the key to his great treasure. Over the years, many have tried to decipher Olivier's code. It's widely accepted that it's a pigeon cipher where letters are replaced with symbols. What's not quite as easy to figure out is what exactly the symbols spell out. After many attempts over the years, a man named Reginald Cruz

Wilkins found a new lead in the nineteen forties. Reginald believed that since the Night Templars used similar cipher's, Olivier's code must have something to do with them. However, he also hypothesized that it had something to do with the Freemasons, King Solomon, or the twelve Labors of Hercules. Needless to say, Reginald died in nineteen seventy seven without ever having cracked the code. Even with Reginald's theories It's not clear what

exactly the cipher points to. It could be a map or a riddle, but some believe the whole thing might just be a hoax. Olivier Lavasieur was certainly a fabulously wealthy pirate, but he died in seventeen thirty The first mention of the code he supposedly gave to the crowd at his execution wasn't until nineteen thirty four, two hundred

years after his death. Whether the code is a treasure map straight out of Robert Lewis Stevenson or just an elaborate hoax, people have dedicated their whole lives to discovering the truth. So maybe, just maybe, hiding under the sand on some long forgotten island, Olivier's treasure lies waiting. Here's hoping after three hundred years, X still marks the spot. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet

of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.