Founded by Dr. Clive Cussler, the National Underwater and Marine Agency (NUMA) is a non-profit, volunteer foundation dedicated to preserving our maritime heritage through the discovery, archaeological survey and conservation of shipwreck artifacts.
When the paddle wheel steamer SS Winfield Scott sank in 1853, its namesake wooden figurehead was on the prow, a symbol of one man’s spirit and courage. The ship’s captain and crew were inspired, but they were no match in a battle against thick fog, heavy surf and jagged rocks off Anacapa Island, near Ventura, California.
They knew the history of General Winfield Scott who won his share of battles in 53 years of faithful army service. A famous Indian fighter in the Black Hawk War, the “grand old man of the army” was a commander in the War of 1812 and a senior officer in the Civil War. He won his share of battles, but none quite like this one against a silent enemy. more »
It’s the kingdom of power and awe where the winds wail, the gulls cry and the sea surges. Only the bold will brave it. Gales may blast it, rains may flood it and tides may churn it, but it is and always will be…the South China Sea.
Ask Michael Hatcher and he’ll tell you about raging storms, dark waters and pirates that he faced in an unforgiving environment unwilling to give up its treasure even to the bravest of souls. Hatcher never considered himself brave. Lucky perhaps, but not the daring swashbuckler portrayed in Hollywood productions. His demeanor, quiet, cordial and determined, was a perfect match for his line of work: Professional Treasure Hunter. more »
The demise of the German submarine U-352 on May 9, 1942, played out like a scene from Hollywood’s hilarious Keystone Kops with Kapitanleutnant Helmut Rathke playing the leading role. Thinking he had spotted a helpless enemy merchant vessel off the shores of North Carolina, the eager commander fired two torpedoes that missed their mark. His surprise attack was totally exposed when both of them exploded on the ocean floor. Thinking he had hit a merchant ship—one of many being sunk in “torpedo alley” at the time—Rathke was quite surprised when at periscope depth he spotted an armed U.S. Coast Guard cutter.
The German’s major faux pas was all that Lt. Maurice Jester, commander of the cutter Icarus, needed in order to thwart a second attempt. As the smaller vessel unfurled a medley of depth charges in a spread pattern, the commander of the sub tried to hide his vessel in the mud stirred up by the ill-spent torpedoes. He faced his second miscue when the depth charges shattered the gauges in the control room, knocked two electric motors off their mounts and ruptured one of the buoyancy tanks. There was no doubt…the sub had to surface. more »
The “Star” fell in Santa Monica Bay on January 23, 1942. Actually, she didn’t really fall…she sank, a victim of wear and tear on the high seas. Unfortunately, a seaman died when the 262-foot-long vessel rolled over in stormy waters that swept through the bay. The Star of Scotland was gone, but by no means forgotten.
How could anyone forget a ship that housed a gambling casino, promoted prostitution and was the scene of a notorious murder? Yet, these devious deeds were somewhat overshadowed by heroism in WWI when she sank a German submarine shortly after being commissioned into the British Royal Navy as the HMS Mistletoe. She was at that time one of a unique fleet of warships built in 1918 to counter-attack the onslaught of German U-boats. Known as Q-ships, which were secretly built in Queenstown, Ireland, the 1,250-ton innovations were warships converted and disguised as merchantmen. Guns, depth charges and other weapons were hidden behind fake bulwarks, deck houses and cargo containers. Skilled navy gun crews were disguised as grizzly seamen conducting ordinary merchant duties until it was time to jump into action. Like something out of a Clive and Dirk Cussler novel, a fighting Q-ship could quickly change its entire appearance with the aid of canvas, wood, paint and funnels, all set up under cover of darkness.
The lookout aboard the Orpheus barely saw the starboard lights on the PSS Pacific 300 yards ahead. He yelled to the helmsman to turn the clipper ship five degrees to port in order to avoid a collision. Meanwhile, aboard the Pacific, the lookout awoke from a nap and the helmsman was straining to see out of his dirty pilothouse window. Assuming he could reduce the stress on the hull if he side-swiped the other vessel, instead of striking it head-on, he turned his ship to starboard and sealed the fate of hundreds of passengers and crew. more »