The Shipwreck Hunter

by David L. Mearns

  As for the silver indio, the more I learned about the coin the more I understood why finding it on the site was a discovery of outstanding historical importance. For one thing, it was extremely rare: so rare in fact that only one other known specimen exists in the world, held in the collection of the National Historical Museum of Brazil. It is why the índio has in the past been called the ’lost’ or ‘ghost’ coin of Dom Manuel. There were even rumours circling amongst numismatic scholars that perhaps the Brazil índio was fake. Happily, the coin I found ended that speculation once and for all.

  What really made the índio special, however, was that it was especially conceived and commissioned by Dom Manuel for the new trade he saw happening with India after da Gama’s discovery of the sea route. Two coins were created: a gold one called the português and the silver índio. The reverse side carried a large cross of the Order of Christ – the first time it was ever used on a Portuguese coin — and this was the cross I saw when I first found the clump. Encircling the cross was the Latin inscription: IN HOC SIGNO VINCES (‘With this sign, you shall conquer’). While the português went on to be a very successful and influential coin, with other countries copying its weight and design, the índio didn’t find the same favour, and was replaced in 1504 by a heavier silver coin called the tostÃo. In keeping with the 1502–03 date of Sodré’s squadron, no tostÃos were amongst the twenty-four coins we identified.

  The very short life and limited circulation of the índio obviously explains why it is so rare. Only the armadas that sailed to India between 1500 and 1503 could have carried the coin. It makes the índio a very precise and powerful dating tool. And in view of the fact that none of the other armadas lost a ship in the Khuriya Muriya Islands, its presence on the wreck site is virtually a fingerprint of one of the Sodré ships. Short of finding the name Sodré stamped on an object, which was a totally unreasonable expectation, the índio was my smoking gun.

  The response from the public and the media to the MHC’s announcement of the discovery – which was made in mid March of 2016, on the same day the IINA paper came out – was overwhelming. Our story was covered in more than 500 news articles and appeared in 183 websites about archaeology and history, while videos produced by National Geographic were viewed more than eight million times. The publishers of IINA keep track of media mentions for academic articles using a numerical score: our article scored the highest ever for an IINA article (more than six times the nearest article) and the second highest recorded for the whole subject of archaeology. The pay-off from this huge interest was that it drove scores of people to download and read the article, which was a key objective of our media strategy. Unsurprisingly, we ended 2016 as the most downloaded article to appear in IINA, nearly three times the total of downloads for the next nine articles combined.

  As I always wanted the project to be judged on the basis of its academic output, the success of the IINA article was very satisfying. Since the announcement, several more peer-review articles have either appeared in the press or been accepted for publication, and a number of papers have been presented at maritime archaeology conferences. However, our commendable publishing record and the positive media attention that was generated didn’t stop the project from being criticized in certain academic circles, either publicly or behind the scenes. Ironically, some of the criticism was that the media attention wasn’t warranted and that the connection of the Sodré wrecks to Vasco da Gama had been overplayed. However, no one – including our main critic Alexandre Monteiro, who had adopted a biased stance against me and the project from the very beginning – could argue against the archaeological evidence and scientific analysis we presented in the IINA paper. Monteiro childishly called the array of technological methods we employed ‘mambo jambo’, which said more about his poor comprehension of the paper than anything else.

  Monteiro aside, the academic feedback we got was generally very positive. Although people wanted to see more interpretation of the site and how the assemblage of artefacts would help in the understanding of Portuguese expansion in the Indian Ocean at this critical time, they appreciated that this first paper was an interim report focused on identification of the wreck site. The team of independent archaeologists, historians and other scientists I’ve been able to attract to the project is growing, so it is very much a case of watch this space as more studies are completed. For example, we are still seeking opinions about the rare copper alloy disc marked with the esfera armilar.

  I initially thought the disc was a component of an early navigation instrument called an astrolabe. Astrolabes are one of the most prized artefacts found on shipwrecks, with every new one that is discovered meriting academic discussion. The size and shape of the disc I found, combined with the central reinforced hole and the suspension ring, are all characteristics suggestive of an astrolabe. On the other hand, the thin disc is completely unlike other marine astrolabes, which are almost always heavy weighted instruments made with cut-outs designed to keep them still in the wind while an astronomical sight is being taken. Whatever the true identity and function of this disc, it is undoubtedly very rare, and quite possibly unique, simply owing to the early age of the ship it was on. And in the end, that is precisely why I persevered with the Sodré shipwrecks: to discover something so special it could rewrite history.

  VIII

  USS Indianapolis and Endurance

  WAITING TO BE FOUND

  ENDURANCE

  USS Indianapolis and Endurance

  I’ve never really had any difficulty answering the inevitable question ‘What would you like to find next?’, as the list of fascinating and worthwhile discoveries still to be made is long enough for me to spend several more lifetimes hunting shipwrecks. In fact the list has grown over the years rather than got shorter. So it is time and money, as is the case in most professions, that generally controls what I do next.

  One reason the list keeps getting longer is because of requests I routinely receive from people wanting me to find a shipwreck that is personally significant to them. Quite a few have been for nationalistic reasons. For example, the Spanish journalist and historian Dr Santiago Mata has asked me to help their navy find the Baléares, a heavy cruiser that was sunk by destroyers of the republican navy in March 1938 during the Spanish Civil War. Baléares was hit by at least one torpedo that caused her forward magazine to explode, with the loss of 765 men when the ship sank off Alicante at a depth of 2,500 metres. The author of numerous books about World War II, Santiago wants to investigate the wreck as he feels there are holes in the official account. In particular he wants to find out why so many lives were lost when the ship remained afloat for three hours and two British destroyers were on hand to rescue survivors.

  More commonly, the requests are from family members who want to know more about how their relative died or simply where their remains are buried. At first I was surprised that many of these requests came from people who had never met the relative they wanted me to find, yet generally they were the most determined of all to have such questions answered. I saw this with my friend Garry Baverstock, whose uncle Ernie Baverstock died a hero in X turret of HMAS Sydney, fighting Kormoran to the very end. Although Garry was born long after the ship went down, Ernie still loomed large in the Baverstock family and in Garry’s life (his brother was even christened Sydney). In the run-up to the search for Sydney, Garry became heavily involved as one of the most proactive relatives, advocating tirelessly that the full truth of the action with Kormoran had to be established, whatever the outcome. He saw this as his personal responsibility in memory of his uncle and as the custodian of Ernie’s story on behalf of his family.

  I have seen the same determination, multiplied by a factor of ten, from a truly remarkable woman who first contacted me six years ago wanting to locate the wreck of the US destroyer Strong (DD-467). In terms of the wider history of the US naval war in the Pacific, the sinking of the Strong on 5 July 1943 after being hit by a Japanese long-lance torpedo fired from a re
cord distance of twenty kilometres hardly merits a footnote. She wasn’t a major warship; she wasn’t involved in a significant battle with the enemy that merited its own name; and the loss of life (46 of Strongs crew of 329 were killed), while unquestionably tragic, was at the lower end of the scale for US naval casualties. Although history appears to have forgotten the Strong, Tammi Hedrick Johnson, an anthropologist and Kentucky mother of two, aims to put that slight right in the name of her great-uncle Ensign William ‘Billy’ Hedrick.

  After seeing his name on a family headstone at the tender age of ten, Tammi was inspired to learn everything she could about the uncle she would never meet. Her quest to find his resting place has become a lifelong mission that is now well into its fifth decade, and that has led her beyond the personal story of Billy’s life to exhaustive research into the Strong itself, the ship’s company and the attack that led to her loss in Kula Gulf of the Solomon Islands. She feels it is her destiny to find the wreck to make sure that Billy’s sacrifice and the history of the ship are not forgotten. Having been won over by her passion, commitment and seriousness of purpose, I have helped Tammi where I can and have no doubt that one day she will succeed. We have been close to finding Strong before and I would dearly love to see that happen for her sake and that of all her supporters.

  A number of submarines also feature on my list, although generally they could prove to be the hardest to find because of a lack of precise information about where they sank. The story of the French submarine Surcouf demonstrates the problem. The Surcouf was a cruiser and the largest submarine ever built, so locating her should be fairly straightforward even in the deep waters of the western Caribbean where she was lost with all hands in early 1942. The problem, however, is that the only clue to where she sank rests on the hazy account of an American freighter, the Thompson Lykes, which collided with something submerged in the water in the general vicinity in which Surcouf was operating but didn’t stop because they feared it was a German submarine. Given the inherent doubt in the freighter’s story, no one has been confident enough to mount a search for the wreck

  A similar situation exists for the Polish submarine ORP Orzel (Eagle), which many Poles want to see found so the crew can be recognized for their incredible bravery in their fight against Germany in World War II. After Germany’s invasion of Poland, Orzel was on patrol in the Baltic when the captain decided to bring her in to Tallinn, Estonia, because of a faulty air compressor and because he was unwell. Although Estonia was neutral at the time, Germany pressured the Estonians to seize the submarine by force and to disarm it and confiscate all navigational charts. Jan Grudzinski, the lieutenant commander, assumed command of the boat and hatched an escape plan with the rest of the crew before all their torpedoes were offloaded. After overpowering their Estonian guards, the crew made a midnight escape whilst under machine-gun and artillery fire from other ships and from shore. Initially they patrolled the Baltic, but with their supply of fresh water running low they made an intricate and treacherous passage across the North Sea without the aid of navigation charts, diving by day and proceeding at night. Despite the strains and stresses of the forty-day voyage, they arrived in Scotland in excellent health and spirits. The Royal Navy was so impressed by Orzel’s escape that they awarded Grudzinski an honorary DSO for his leadership.

  Following a refit, Orzel was assigned to the Royal Navy’s 2nd Submarine Flotilla and was employed on patrol duties in the North Sea. The crew received high praise for their fighting spirit, which included sinking an important troop transport carrying hundreds of German troops for the secret invasion of Norway. It was during her seventh patrol, in early June of 1940, that Orzel was lost without trace or any clue about what might have happened to her. The boat’s last orders were to proceed to the Skagerrak, and some people suspect she must have hit a mine during that transit. But as no signals were received from the crew after they left Rosyth, there is a very large corridor with almost endless possibilities where the wreck may lie. Although previous attempts to locate Orzel have failed, others are determined to continue searching. Until those efforts are successful, the Polish navy and family members of the crew have to be satisfied with the tribute paid by Admiral Sir Max Horton, who at the time of the boat’s loss was chief of the Submarine Service: ‘The passage of the Orzel from the Baltic to the United Kingdom is in itself an epic of determination, seamanship and endurance, which will long be remembered in the annals of the British Submarine Service.’

  The final submarine on my list is AE1, Australia’s very first submarine, which was lost in the islands of Papua New Guinea in all probability after colliding with a submerged reef, earning her the unfortunate distinction of being Australia’s first major naval loss in World War I. There were no survivors from her mixed crew of thirty-five RN and RAN submariners. AET’s operational history was brief, with her sole battle credit stemming from the surrender of Rabaul the day before she was lost. She was last seen on the afternoon of 14 September 1914 by HMAS Parramatta just west of Duke of York Island, which has provided searchers with a starting point to look for the wreck. The area has proved difficult to search, however, due to the extreme topography and magnetism associated with the volcanic nature of the islands. As a result, the fourteen in-water searches that have been conducted over the years from 1976 to 2015, while ruling out a few potential locations, have all come away empty-handed.

  The best chance of finding AE1 rests with a group of volunteers following a model similar to the one HMA3S used in their search for the Sydney. Their company, named Find AE1 Ltd, is led by Peter Briggs, a retired RAN rear admiral, and Dr Michael White, a retired barrister who also served in the RAN before becoming a lawyer. They are a well-organized group and the recent search they conducted was a far better effort than most of the earlier attempts. But they are faced with a seriously tough problem that is crying out for the type of government support and professional approach we had with Sydney and the Centaur. I certainly believe that the wreck of AE1 is findable with the right technical approach and search team, but it will depend on Peter and his colleagues convincing sponsors, or the government, to fully back their plans.

  It is probably by choice more than anything else that the wrecks on my list pretty much all fall into the category of ‘hard to find’. That could be because all the easy-to-find wrecks have already been found, or because my natural tendency is to gravitate towards difficult search problems like Sydney. As technology has improved, so has our ability to find shipwrecks, especially ones that have previously been elusive either because of their small size or due to environmental complications. For example, the best chance anyone will have of finding AE1 given the large search area and difficult seabed conditions is if they use a synthetic aperture sonar system with co-registered bathymetry and imagery deployed from an autonomous underwater vehicle (AUV). This is one of a variety of technologies that will transform wreck finding in the future.

  Over the past five years, a number of very famous shipwrecks that were on not just my list, but everyone else’s too, have been found. These include the Italian battleship Roma, the fabulously valuable Spanish galleon San José, the ships of Sir John Franklin’s lost expedition HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, and the Japanese super battleship Musashi, which I had a hand in locating. These discoveries reinforce my belief that we are living through a golden age of shipwreck hunting, in which the development of advanced underwater technology has coincided with an increased public interest in the oceans and our shared maritime history. It is interesting that each of these shipwrecks had been the target of previously unsuccessful searches before they were ultimately found – which leads me to one of the very top shipwrecks on my list: the USS Indianapolis.

  USS Indianapolis

  THE FORGOTTEN SHIP

  SUNK 30 JULY 1945

  880 died

  316 survived

  The story of the USS Indianapolis is tragic on so many levels it is hard to know where to begin. On the evening the ‘Indy was sunk, 30 J
uly 1945, the crew would have had no idea of the absolutely crucial role their ship had played in possibly the most momentous event of the twentieth century. Of the 1,196 men on board, only Indy’s commander, Captain Charles B. McVay III, was aware of the top-secret cargo they had carried at record speed from San Francisco to Hawaii, and then on to the Pacific island of Tinian, where it was assembled and loaded onto the B-52 bomber Enola Gay. The cargo was so important that McVay was told that in an emergency it was to be saved at all costs, even above the life of the ship itself.

  The consignment entrusted to McVay and the men of the Indianapolis was the heart of the atomic bomb that the US would go on to drop on Hiroshima. Having successfully delivered it to Tinian, the Indy’s secret mission was over; the movement of the ship was no longer time-critical or cloaked in secrecy. McVay’s next set of orders was to refuel at Guam and then proceed to Leyte in the Philippines for an extended period of training. However, fatal flaws in how the US Navy handled the routing of combatant vessels meant that Indianapolis had become, to all intents and purposes, a forgotten ship. So when the Japanese submarine 1–58 slammed two torpedoes into the cruiser’s starboard side just after midnight, causing her to sink in twelve minutes, those who were not killed outright by the explosions and fire or who were unable to escape the steel coffin of Indianapolis’s hull were forced to suffer an agonizing experience so horrifically cruel many wished they had perished with their shipmates.