In 1962, Bernard Grimshaw, a man seemingly disillusioned with the relentless pace of modern life, invested the entirety of his remaining funds into the acquisition of a small, secluded island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. His friends saw him as a hermit, one who had grown weary of civilization’s never-ending din. To them, his move to the tiny island, Moyenne, was an eccentric retreat, perhaps a search for peace in solitude. However, little did they know that Grimshaw harbored a secret that fueled his adventure—a thrilling, clandestine search for buried pirate treasure. For forty years, Grimshaw dedicated his life to unraveling this mystery, refusing even a multimillion-dollar offer from an Arab sheikh, utterly absorbed in his quest.
This modest island, Moyenne, with its diminutive size of only 0.089 square kilometers, cost Grimshaw just $13,000—a pittance for paradise. Despite its size, it was ample for a solitary life. Once the island was in his possession, Grimshaw wasted no time. He moved there immediately, eager to uncover its secrets. However, life on Moyenne was not without its challenges. In the early years, Grimshaw had to import drinking water from neighboring islands, an initially daunting but ultimately small price to pay for living his dream.
While his official narrative of island improvement might have seemed mundane, Grimshaw’s efforts were far more motivated than casual cultivation. He planted rows of palms, mangoes, and other fruit trees, transformations that had dual purposes. On one hand, they provided food and natural beauty. On the other, they allowed him to dig deep holes, ostensibly for planting, without attracting unwanted suspicion. Grimshaw was a man on a mission, and trees were his cloak of invisibility.
Grimshaw’s acquaintances maintained their perception of him as a recluse. They were oblivious to the intriguing detail he’d stumbled upon during an African expedition—a tip about the legendary pirate Olivier Levasseur’s hidden treasures. Back in 1729, when the East India Campaign cornered Levasseur’s last remaining ship at Moyenne, it seemed reasonable to speculate that this was where he buried his prized pirate loot. Expectations hovered somewhere around a staggering $40 million, a figure so tempting that it fueled Grimshaw’s obsession for decades.
For forty years, Grimshaw unearthed almost every inch of Moyenne, shaping it not just into a treasure seeker’s map but into an earthly paradise. The island blossomed under his care, transcending its humble beginnings into a sanctuary for both wildlife and Grimshaw himself. Birds flocked to the island, drawn by his efforts, and giant sea turtles found a refuge here, safe from the hunters that pursued them on other islands.
As years turned into decades and whispers of Grimshaw’s activities persisted, the world took notice. By the 2000s, Grimshaw, his curiosity undeniable and his secret a little less guarded, finally admitted to reporters that he was indeed hunting for Levasseur’s treasure. Despite the drama surrounding the quest, if Grimshaw ever succeeded in finding the pirate’s riches, he kept this information tightly sealed. What is documented, however, is the lucrative offer from the prince of Saudi Arabia, who wished to purchase Moyenne for an astounding $50 million. Yet again, Grimshaw refused.
In the end, Moyenne transitioned from Grimshaw’s personal Eden back into public hands. The dream of buried buccaneer bounty faded into regulated oversight, transformed into a national park where treasure hunts were no longer allowed. Grimshaw’s legacy, a tale woven with audacity, mystery, and relentless pursuit, remains alive on the island he transformed and loved—his paradise forever etched in the annals of adventurous solitude.
