Many presumed Bowden to be in it for the money, but he seldom sold what he found. He told people he was chasing a feeling—the moment when, after years of struggle, and after a thousand people say you’re crazy, you see something sparkle in the water and grab on to it. Treasure. A person is never the same after that.

In the past, it had been his commitment to excellence—his insistence that things be done beautifully, not just correctly—that had delivered him into places others couldn’t reach.

He’d long cursed their mañana culture, swore that these people were going nowhere because they didn’t go at full speed, but as he watched the old man flip off the ruined tire and replace it with the spare, he could see what he’d admired about Dominicans all along—that they didn’t worry for the future because they knew there was always a way to

Do it now. Tomorrow is promised to no one.

Men came alive when they were made equal. A hundred of them together could take on the world.

To John, the feeling of a place was the reason to go.

“Tracy is a stubborn old man,” he said, “but he’s not dumb. You’ve gotta let him come to the sugar wreck himself. You’ve gotta let it be his idea, too.”

Treasure shows who you really are. It strips away every façade you’ve constructed, every story you believe about yourself, and reveals the real you. If you are a miserable, lying, greedy, worthless fuck, treasure will tell you that. If you are a good and decent person, treasure will tell you that, too. And you needn’t find a single coin to know.

To Mattera, the lesson was clear: A person had to go when his heart told him to go. Even if he didn’t know how the journey would end.