Our crew of volunteers is small. Few are divers. Most are marinehistory buffs and electronic technicians. When we go to a particular area to search for a lost ship, we charter a boat and invite local divers familiar with the waters we'll be working. Quite often we are joined by members of a state archaeology team.

Because most of our expeditions are funded by my book royalties without any type of donations or grants, my wife and accountant, and yes, the IRS, all think I require a frontal lobotomy because I indulge in all this madness for no profit or gain. This is actually the first time in nearly twenty years I've put my experiences down on paper. I'm new at writing in the first person, but it does provide an opportunity to mention and thank all the wonderful people who have supported NUMA.

If there were more peculiar persons like me out there willing to spend money without the slightest hope of a return, we could take on more projects. A few people have talked big about wanting to become involved with NUMA's search for legendary shipwrecks but never put their checkbooks where their mouths are. I wish I had a bottle of beer for every time someone offered to contribute to a shipwreck search only to back out at the last minute. I could open my own saloon on promises alone. Many have promised much, but with no pot at the end of the rainbow; not one ever came across with a dime. Too bad they'll never experience the excitement of the chase or the satisfaction of a successful discovery.

The only man I know who shares my love of the search and is willing to lay a buck on the line is Douglas Wheeler, an executive from Chicago. He generously comes through whenever NUMA launches a search for the unknown.

Eccentric that I am, I've never searched for treasure or taken artifacts NUMA has raised from a wreck site. All recovered objects are used strictly for identification purposes before being preserved and donated to museums. Nothing is kept. Visitors and guests are stunned to find no maritime artifacts in my home. My only mementos are thirteen models I've had built of the shipwrecks NUMA has discovered, the buoy tied to the Hunley when my team first dove on it, and a life ring from Arvor III.

Why do I do what I do for no financial gain and despite frequent failure? I can't really say. Curiosity maybe? A fanatical desire to achieve what is all too often the impossible? To find something no one else has found? There aren't many of us out there who are driven by the same madness.

Alan Pegler is one who dared to follow that faraway drummer. Mr.