Sipping a warm tin of Pusser’s Rum, nectar of the British Virgin Islands, I wiggle my toes into the wet sand on one of five private beaches outside the luxury villa, Sol y Sombra (a.k.a. Little Trunk Bay Estate). I’m busy contemplating what my ongoing hunt for pirate treasure will unveil on this quiet island. A wave rushes over my feet in a champagne hiss, and I watch the turquoise water bubble into the sand.

Just offshore, two sloops are racing the afternoon light, their sails snapping tightly against a Caribbean breeze. The British Virgin Islands have long been known as the “Cruising Capital of the Caribbean.” Over 50 volcanic islands, cays and rocks dot these waters, and the passages between them are a favorite playground for yachters.

Back in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, these same jade waters - just 60 miles east of what would later become Puerto Rico - were popular with a different sort of yachter. These were the notorious high seas of renegade English, French and Dutch pirates who stalked gold-laden Spanish galleons. The pirates are gone these days, but the treasure (or so I was told by an old yachter on the ferry ride over from the U.S. Virgin Islands) still remains.

I am staying at the exclusive Sol y Sombra villa, tucked along a string of quiet beaches on the scenic leeward coast of Virgin Gorda. The villa offers the kind of seclusion and isolation that seemed to have evaporated with the hurried pace of daily life. This stunning private estate underscores seclusion, featuring four bedroom pavilions. Either the 30-foot-long swimming pool, or private, lighted tennis courts surround each pavilion. And all host spacious views of the blue Caribbean Sea.

A sense of stuporous relaxation immediately enchants me. I wander the landscaped tropical gardens that drape the compound in a sylvan green. Down at the infinity pool, I dip a foot into the cool water. The nearby Tennis Pavilion, one of two king bedrooms, not only has it’s namesake courts, but it also offers spectacular views of the coastline from a rooftop pergola. A fine place, I note, to enjoy some rum at sunset. Two other master suite pavilions, the upper and lower Sugar Mills offer equally fine views of The Baths, a small beach lumped with smooth boulders the size of houses.

If the external appearance of Sol y Sombra says protected retreat? then on the inside, I am delighted to find, it is pure Colonial British West Indies. Even the air smells of romantic days gone by, a subtle blend of fragrant local flowers and the rich teak scent of wood polish on carved furniture. Silk cushions and bed coverings, luxury linens and honey French tumbled limestone floors bejewel the room like ghosts of a richer age. In a nod at modernity, all the suites offer air conditioning, but I opt for the more atmospheric ceiling fan, and lay on the bed for a nap one afternoon, dreaming of a grinning Jolly Roger. When I awake and rinse my face in the lavender marble vanity, I almost feel as if I have been transported from the present to the past.

But there’s no mistaking what time period I’m in when I enter The Great Room. With a European-style kitchen appointed with stainless steel appliances and granite counters, an office equipped with an internet-connected computer, fax and telephone, The Great Room offers the best of luxury with functionality. The nearby living room transforms into a private movie theatre where guests can enjoy films while the trade winds waft through French doors.

There is no Jolly Roger on the horizon the afternoon I head out to explore The Baths. After three days of relaxing at Sol y Sombra, my treasure hunting ambition has retired somewhat. Still, with a fresh sense of adventure stirring in my blood, I follow the path through the beachside palm trees and find myself early in the morning among the quiet stone sentinels.

Snorkel in hand, I drift out in the cool blue, suspended above submerged boulders. I think about a conversation I had on the ferry ride over from the U.S. Virgin Islands with Clark, a 56-year-old yachter. “You know, there’s still treasure out there,” he said when I asked him about the ghosts of pirates in these waters. “Gold, silver, jewels, it’s all there.”

We were leaning against the railing, and admiring the 1,400-foot lush green peaks piercing the cloudless sky. “You just have to know where to look,” he confided in a mischievous whisper.

In the peaceful blue below, a school of fish darted among the shadows. I relaxed my breathing and duck-dove deep to touch the sand and scatter the fish in a burst of silver. Suspended above the sandy bottom, I turned my mask to the surface. A shimmering sun burned gold through the glassy ceiling. Clark’s words echoed in my ears again. “Gold, silver, jewels.” At Sol y Sombra, you don’t have to go looking for buried treasure, it comes looking for you.