by Liz Mechem
The bridge of the Andrea Doria, meanwhile, was under command of her master. Captain Piero Calamai was aiming for an on-time arrival in New York, and when he entered the fog zone, he reduced his speed only slightly, from 23 to just under 22 knots—still a rapid clip. At 10:40 PM, the radar screen showed a boat approaching some 17 miles (27 km) off. Calculating quickly, Calamai predicted the ships would pass about a mile (1.6 km) apart, with the Stockholm to starboard. Nevertheless, he guided the Andrea Doria slightly farther to port, to increase the margin of safety. Calamai also activated the watertight bulkheads in the hull, which closed off the 11 separate compartments.
DANGEROUS WATERS
A disabled fishing ship hitches a ride from a Coast Guard ship through the Nantucket fog. Even with improved technology, the region remains hazardous.
NANTUCKET IS NICKNAMED the “Faraway Isle” for its location far out into the waters of the Atlantic. The shoals to the east and south of the island are notorious danger spots and have been the site of numerous shipwrecks over the centuries. In 1976, just 20 years after the sinking of the Andrea Doria, the oil tanker Argo Merchant ran aground on Fishing Rip Shoal. Though no lives were lost, the tanker spilled some 7.6 million gallons (28.7 million liters) of crude oil, creating an ecological disaster.
In an effort to prevent shipwrecks, in 1854 Nantucketers established a lightship station on the shoals. Since that time, a lightship has patrolled the dangerous waters, giving both light and foghorn signals to passing ships. One notable lightship, LV 117, was herself done in by the fog. In 1934, the RMS Olympic, sister ship to the Titanic, rammed the LV 117. Eleven people died in the collision.
With less than a mile visibility, the two ships were relying entirely on radar to plot their relative positions. As the ships came within sight of each other, it suddenly became clear that they were on a collision course—and only a mile (1.6 km) apart. The Stockholm veered about 20 degrees to starboard, while the Andrea Doria made a turn to port, exposing her starboard side to the oncoming ship. Historians surmise that the Doria was hoping to clear the Swedish liner; with several minutes’ more time, this strategy would have worked. But it was not to be: at 11:10 PM, the Stockholm plowed into the starboard side of Italian liner, killing 46 of her passengers. Five crew members of the Stockholm died in the collision. Her bow was badly smashed, but she stayed afloat.
The great luxury liner’s namesake, Genoese admiral Andrea Doria (1466–1560), pictured here as the ancient sea-god Neptune
The damaged bow on the luxury liner Stockholm after its collision with the Andrea Doria
DISTRESS AND RESCUE
Captain Calamai sent an SOS call, while his ship reeled from the damage. The huge V-shaped gash in her starboard side allowed water to gush into the empty fuel tanks, causing her to list precariously. Water rushed over the bulkheads, flooding the other compartments. Within 20 minutes, the captain made the decision to abandon ship.
Unlike the Titanic, the Andrea Doria had more than enough lifeboats for her passengers. The increasing list, though, rendered the lifeboats on the port side inaccessible. Fortunately, help soon met the Andrea Doria’s distress call. The elegant French liner Île de France sped to the scene. Her captain, Baron Raoul de Beaudéan, was to become the hero of the hour. Steaming up to the sinking Andrea Doria, the French ship turned on every light aboard, to produce a sudden, gleaming presence in the midnight blackness. The Île de France picked up 753 passengers and crew from the Andrea Doria, while the Stockholm rescued 542. Smaller boats nearby joined the rescue flotilla; in all, the rescuers saved 1,660 souls from the sinking Andrea Doria.
The Andrea Doria begins to list just moments before sinking
Both the Stockholm and the Île de France immediately returned to New York to deliver injured passengers. Captain Calamai and his officers did not leave their ship until 9:00 AM the following morning, when they boarded the U.S. Coast Guard ship Hornbeam. They watched from the deck of the Hornbeam as the Andrea Doria sank in 225 feet (69 m) of water, 45 miles (72 km) off the coast of Nantucket. The Atlantic Ocean claimed first her bow, then her stern, until at 10:09 AM she could be seen no more.
WHO WAS TO BLAME?
AN OFFICIAL INQUEST into the collision between the Stockholm and the Andrea Doria began on September 19, 1956. The Andrea Doria’s captain, Piero Calamai, was charged with several infractions, notably his continued speed through a hazardous fog, and his failure to observe the protocol of heavy shipping lanes by turning to port instead of starboard. Calamai had also neglected to refill his empty fuel tanks with seawater, as was proscribed for adequate ballast.
On the part of the Swedish liner, Captain Harry Nordenson of the Stockholm had left the bridge under dangerous conditions. In addition, the Stockholm was traveling some 20 miles (32 km) north of her standard shipping lane. In the end, the two shipping lines agreed to a 50-50 portion of blame, each line responsible for its own damages. The heavier burden fell on the Italian Line; it had lost the jewel of its fleet, valued at $30 million. The Stockholm was repaired and refitted and continued to sail for decades to come.
MV Doña Paz
COLLISION WITH AN INFERNO
A photo claimed to show the MV Doña Paz while she was named the MV Don Sulpicio
F ire at sea has been a sailor’s worst nightmare for centuries. And that nightmare has not abated with the passing of wooden vessels; modern steel ships can succumb to flames as well. When the heavily overloaded ferryboat Doña Paz was struck by the oil tanker Vector in 1987 in the Philippines, Vector’s cargo of various petroleum products burst into flames that engulfed both vessels. The sea itself appeared to catch fire, and victims were forced to choose between the flames and the burning, shark-infested waters of the Tablas Strait. Within four hours both vessels had sunk, leaving survivors floating among the dead and burned corpses, waiting for aid that would be many hours in coming.
Doña Paz was a 305-foot (93 m) ferryboat built in 1963 in Japan. Her original passenger capacity was just over 600 people. When she shifted to the Philippines, officials raised her capacity to more than twice that, 1,424—with no significant alterations or refitting. Official reports generated after the accident put the number of dead at 1,749, but anecdotal reports place the number of passengers actually on board closer to 4,000. No matter the exact numbers, the sinking of the Doña Paz was one of the worst maritime disasters in history.
THE OCEAN AFLAME
The MV Doña Paz steamed south from Japan and began carrying goods and people on the Philippines circuit in 1975, while still—at only 13 years old—a fairly new ship. Overloaded though she was, all seemed calm and well in hand on the bridge of the Doña Paz as she plied the waters off Dumali Point the night of December 20, 1987. Events were so routine that the captain retired to his cabin to watch a movie, and the two first mates left the bridge for drinks and cards, leaving only an inexperienced seaman on watch at the helm. For her part, the Vector was operating without a lookout, license, or qualified officer.
Around 10:30 that night, for reasons still unknown, the Vector slammed into the Doña Paz, in the open ocean, with clear conditions and choppy but moderate seas. Neither ship had altered course or given warning blasts of whistle or bell. The first sign of trouble most passengers and crew on either ship noticed was the terrifying explosion of grinding metal. The impact ignited a conflagration of 8,800 barrels of oil and gasoline, which quickly spread through both ships and spilled onto the sea itself. Though they sent distress calls, neither ship launched lifeboats, and only 24 people survived. The rest perished, killed by neglect and inattention as surely as by flame and water.
A severely burned survivor, with a relative, heals in a Manila hospital.
Oil fires are deadly even on land. On water, they are devastating. Because oil floats, the sea has no chance to extinguish the flames. Here, an oil well fire in 1991; note the enormous size of the explosion.
ALL SQUEEZE ABOARD
IT IS A COMMON PRACTICE for crews of ferries in developi
ng nations to board many more passengers than have tickets. Those crew members who don’t believe in granting free passage to the poor may often be persuaded to allow passengers on board for a small consideration, usually much less than the cost of the entire fare. Aside from the obvious safety hazards, an additional downside to this practice is that when disasters occur, families of unticketed victims often have difficulty proving eligibility for benefits. In the case of the Doña Paz, the Philippine Supreme Court eventually ruled that even victims not on the ship’s manifest were entitled to indemnity and remuneration.
4 · PIRACY, MUTINY, AND SKULLDUGGERY
An English Ship in Action with Barbary Pirates by Willem van der Velde the Younger, c.1680
The Batavia
STARVATION, TREACHERY, AND MURDER
A Dutch East India Company map of its trading area in 1665, including the whole of the Indian Ocean
Early in the seventeenth century, the Dutch East India Company (in Dutch, the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, or VOC) commissioned the Batavia. A merchant ship meant for trade, the Batavia nonetheless carried 24 cannons. Trading in the seventeenth century meant sailing literally halfway around the world into uncharted territories. In many foreign lands, traders met with hostile natives and often had to fend off pirates and competitors from other companies and nations.
On October 29, 1628, the Batavia set off from the port of Texel, in the Netherlands, for her maiden voyage. She never returned. In June 1629, she foundered on a reef in the Houtman Abrolhos islands off the west coast of Australia. Her sinking, however, was only the beginning of the ordeal for her passengers and crew: mutiny, murder, and mayhem were soon to follow.
RUN AGROUND
When the Batavia struck Morning Reef on June 4, 1629, she sank slowly enough that all but 40 passengers and crew were able to make their way ashore in the surviving longboat and yawl. The Batavia’s commander, François Pelsaert; her captain, Adrian Jacobsz; and a score of other passengers and crew set off in the yawl. The rest of the refugees remained behind, under the command of Junior Merchant Jeronimus Cornelisz.
Pelsaert and Jacobsz sailed the open boat for 32 days across the open ocean to the city of Batavia (present-day Jakarta, Indonesia). Upon their arrival, the governor immediately provided a ship, and Pelsaert and Jacobsz set sail back to their stranded cohort. Unfavorable winds slowed their return journey, and 90 days after they had left, they returned to a scene of utter horror.
A naval cannon recovered from the Batavia. The shipwreck was excavated in the 1970s.
MUTINY MOST FOUL
Left in command, Jeronimus Cornelisz showed his true colors. He immediately impounded all weapons and food. Next, he marooned a number of the passengers and remaining crewmen on adjacent West Wallaby Island, instructing them to search for water. Returning to his own isle of tyranny, Cornelisz gathered a small mutinous band and initiated a wild killing spree. The tyrants murdered women, children, the infirm, and the elderly—all in the name of conserving resources. They kept some women alive, but not for honorable reasons.
Meanwhile, the sailors and passengers left to die on West Wallaby unexpectedly found food and water supplies. They sent their prearranged smoke signals to alert Cornelisz of their success. After Cornelisz’s dispatch failed to return any prisoners, the tyrant shipped to Wallaby Island himself, along with five men. The stranded crewmen overpowered Cornelisz, killed his companions, and took the tyrant prisoner.
A replica of the Batavia. Had the ship survived, she would have carried one of her company’s most valuable products: spices.
At this juncture, Pelsaert dramatically arrived back on the scene. Hearing the charges of murder and mayhem from the survivors, he immediately placed the mutineers under arrest. After quick trials, Cornelisz and several of his conspirators were executed. The rest were taken back to the city of Batavia for trial and, for most, execution. Pelsaert himself was found to have acted negligently. The crown seized his assets, and he died shortly thereafter. Of the 341 souls originally aboard the Batavia, only 68 survived her maiden voyage.
FLOTSAM & JETSAM
Even before the Batavia sank, Cornelisz had conspired to mutiny and seize the ship’s vast stores of gold and silver. He intended to kill most aboard and dedicate the Batavia to a career of piracy.
Both sides of a Dutch East India Company coin, minted in 1735, with the company’s VOC logo
The Henrietta Marie
A SLAVE SHIP DISAPPEARS
Few things present as awful an image as a slave ship. Such vessels carried men, women, and children who had been kidnapped, thrown into the hold of a ship, and shackled hand and foot with unforgiving manacles. Worse yet was the arrival in a strange land, in which their captors paraded the enslaved, still shackled and naked, into the town square of a strange city. There these men, women, and children were sold into short and brutal lives of unceasing toil.
An artist’s depiction of the dismal misery aboard a slave ship, including women and children stuffed onto shelves
In September 1700, before the Henrietta Marie began her last voyage, she likely filled her holds with human cargo at the notorious Gorée Island, a slave transfer station off the coast of present-day Dakar, Senegal. Her holds could carry 300 sorry souls, but more than 20 percent of that number would perish on the Atlantic crossing. As the ship approached its destination of Port Royal, Jamaica, the slavers allowed their captives on deck for the first time since leaving Africa. The slavers prepared the captives for market, giving them increased rations, baths, haircuts, and other care; healthy-looking slaves fetched a higher price. After disembarking his “freight,” Captain Thomas Chamberlain filled the now-empty holds of the Henrietta Marie with sugar, cotton, wood, and indigo dye, and departed for England on May 18, 1701. A month later, negotiating the treacherous Florida Straits, the Henrietta Marie sank off the coast of Florida under unknown circumstances. No one survived to tell the tale of her disappearance.
Plan of a British slave ship from the 1790s, showing a government-approved arrangement that crammed 422 humans in cargo holds as if they were goods
BURIED SECRETS UNCOVERED
The Henrietta Marie would have been one of the numerous slave ships lost to history if treasure hunters hadn’t discovered her nestled in the protective caress of the sandy bottom of the Florida Strait. In 1972, famed treasure hunter Mel Fisher and his company discovered the wreck near New Ground Reef, 34 miles (55 km) off Key West, Florida, as they searched for the sunken Spanish galleon Nuestra Señora de Atocha (see pages 16–17). They at first discounted their find as “the English wreck” when it became clear that there was no cache of Spanish gold hidden beneath the sands. Treasures of another sort languished in a warehouse for 10 years until divers and scholars of African American history focused their attentions on the artifacts, which included shackles salvaged from the mysterious ship. The shackles pointed the way, and then diver/archaeologist David Moore salvaged a bell. Its inscription confirmed the ship’s name and the date: The HENRIETTA MARIE, 1699. With the name and the date it was now possible to research the ship’s past.
The oldest slave ship ever found in U.S. waters opened a window into a dark period in American history. By correlating historical records with the huge trove of artifacts found on the seafloor, historians gained new insight into the brutal human trade. The treasure hunters who initially discovered the ship’s remains have donated them to a not-for-profit marine historical society, which organizes tours and displays the objects. Historians and the general public alike can study these artifacts, which help tell a vast and vitally important story.
Shackles used for restraining slaves
LINKS TO HISTORY
IN 1972, MOE MOLINAR, an African American treasure hunter working with Mel Fisher’s company, rode his salvage vessel, the Virgalona, through a squall while anchored over a Spanish treasure galleon. Molinar figured that he had time for one more dive that stormy afternoon on the Florida Strait. Just as he had nearly depleted his oxy
gen supply, his hands stopped dead at an iron bar buried in the soft sand. Attached to the iron bar were shackles, something not typical on Spanish treasure galleons. Recognizing what he held, he returned to the ocean floor. By sunset, he had pulled from the wreck dozens of rusted shackles of all sizes: from large, bulky ones to fit a man’s wrists down to tiny ones made to restrain a child. Although Molinar was well aware of how the shackles had once been used, they still went to a Key West warehouse. It would be 10 long years before historians realized the importance of Molinar’s find.
The Whydah
FROM SLAVE GALLEY TO PIRATE SHIP
Pirates navigate their boat (any small vessel with under three masts) toward an unfortunate ship, ready to board her and take whatever plunder they find.
T he Whydah led a short, fast life of infamy. Her first incarnation was as a British slave ship. Launched in 1715, the three-masted galley acted in the gruesome and profitable trade in human cargo, sailing on the triangular course between Europe, Africa, and the Caribbean. In 1717, during her second voyage, the notorious pirate Samuel “Black Sam” Bellamy captured the Whydah.
At 100 feet (31 m), the Whydah was fast—she could reach 13 knots—and she was heavily armed with 18 cannons. The trade routes between Europe, Africa, and the Caribbean were dangerous, patrolled by pirates intent on seizing the costly cargo these ships carried.
From Europe to Africa, the Whydah carried goods like cloth and arms; from Africa to the Caribbean, on what was known as the “Middle Passage,” she carried humans—enslaved Africans destined for the plantations of the Americas. On the Whydah’s return trip from the Caribbean to Europe, she carried the spoils of this brutal trade: gold, silver, sugar, spices, and medicinal products. These proved a tempting target for the pirate Black Sam Bellamy.
