“That’s a good question. Some written records show the crew was especially unruly and hated one another so much that they refused to work cooperatively, perhaps even to the point of the ship’s sinking. So crew error may certainly have been part of the cause. Other theories include, she was overloaded after being fitted with extra cannons; an especially strong wind caught her in a turn; or a French cannon smashed her hull. The sinking of the Mary Rose is one of those events that we’ll likely never know for sure what the real cause was.”
He pointed to a large book on his shelf called The Mary Rose. “We did make some spectacular finds though. The cannons and shot gave us a good glimpse into eighteenth-century naval warfare, the eating utensils and food remains helped us to know a little of how they lived. And the navigational and medical instruments revealed something of the technology of the day.”
“That’s interesting indeed. I imagine determining the cause of a shipwreck that occurred in past centuries must be very difficult,” Eddy added.
“That’s true, Edwina, though we do get lucky once in a while.” At that moment Dr. Hunter’s eyes began to twinkle.
“By the grin on your face I have the feeling you’re about to share one of those lucky cases.”
“I will if you think you can keep it to yourself.” Dr. Hunter looked long at me. “If this gets out to the media prematurely it could ruin everything. We don’t want a flock of treasure hunters getting in there and wrecking what could possibly be the most important shipwreck find in recent history. So if you’re good at keeping secrets, I have something extraordinary to tell you about.”
“I’m good at keeping my mouth shut,” I blurted excitedly. “I would keep your secret even if I was being tortured.”
Eddy snorted and nodded. “It’s true … even torture won’t make her talk when she puts her mind to it.”
“All right then, if you’re sure you won’t tell. Last week a fisherman was out past Tlatskwala, also known as Trust Island. It’s off the north coast of Vancouver Island near Port Hardy. His net got caught up on something and he called for a diver to come out and try to free it. The diver went down about fifty feet and discovered what the net was snagged on.” I didn’t realize it until that moment, but I’d stopped breathing and took a big gulp of air. “It was overgrown with barnacles and seaweed, but there was no mistaking it for a late eighteenth-century anchor. Once the diver freed the net he took it on his own initiative to look around. Though the water was murky, it didn’t take him too long to notice a few scattered objects, such as the cathead — the part of the ship where the anchor would have been secured, a pulley, and a broken mast.” My heartbeat raced as I slipped to the edge of my chair.
“So did he find the rest of the ship?” I asked, impatient to hear the next part of the story.
“Well, no. By then his oxygen tank was running low, so with that and a storm warning he decided to get back to the surface. Fortunately for us he called the department instead of the news stations,” Dr. Hunter said. Then he pointed to the painting of the old fashioned ship with three sails. “From historical records we know there was a ship like this one that sank in that area in 1812 and belonged to John Jacob Astor’s American Fur Company. It was called the Intrepid and it too was a three-mast bark. While we won’t know for sure until we go there and have a look for ourselves, there’s a very good possibility that it’s the Intrepid. And if it is, that will be a very big deal.”
When Dr. Hunter finished the room was silent. I couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say besides, “Wow.” Then Eddy broke the silence.
“So what’s next, Phil?”
“I’m putting together a team of underwater archaeologists who can join me on a preliminary investigation. We have to get in there as quick as possible and establish a presence before some rogue shipwreck treasure hunters. If they get a hold of this there’s no telling what damage they might do. Presuming this is the Intrepid we’ll want to time our announcement to the media just right. After that …” He chuckled. “I’m sure funding will come flooding in to pay for a full-on excavation. Amateur shipwreck divers love to support these kinds of investigations and in my line of business this is as good as winning the Lotto 649 Jackpot. Depending on her condition we may want to try and raise her from the ocean floor and bring her back for preservation.” He sat back, looking very pleased. “So now you know what we’re dealing with and why we need to keep this quiet.”
Dr. Hunter handed Eddy a large folder. “That’s a photocopy of the original journal kept by the captain of the ship — Captain James Whittaker.” She flipped through it and handed it to me. I held it in my hand like it was some kind of sacred holy book. I leafed through it, but it was hard to read the old-fashioned cursive writing with its fancy scratches and swirls.
“So how did the journal survive if the ship sank?” I asked.
“The ship sank slowly and that gave the captain time to make a final entry while his crew boarded the lifeboats. From it, we know there was barely enough room for the entire crew. This must be why the captain made the decision to stay with the ship. He gave his journal to his first mate to deliver to Astor in the event that they made it back to New York City alive — which obviously they did. And that’s why today we know so much about the Intrepid.”
“You said the captain stayed with the ship. Why did he do that?”
“Captain Whittaker was one of those rare breed of men for whom commitment, honour, and responsibility ran deep. It has long been the standard amongst seamen that the captain’s responsibility was to save the lives of the crew, the ship, and the cargo if possible.” I thought about the cruise ship Costa Concordia that struck huge rocks in the Mediterranean a few years back, which tore open the hull. In that case as soon as the ship started listing, Captain Schettino was one of the first to abandon ship. Sadly, many passengers were not able to get off and died. Clearly Schettino missed the memo about a captain being the last to leave a sinking ship.
“So if the captain couldn’t fit in the lifeboat why didn’t he at least try to swim to shore?”
“Like many sailors of that day, the captain couldn’t swim,” Dr. Hunter said. Now that was dumb. Fortunately my Mom insisted I learn to swim when I was a little kid.
“So when do you think you’ll go up to check her out?” asked Eddy. That was what I wanted to know too.
“Soon … very soon. We have already started getting the crew and equipment together. So the next thing is to do an assessment — for that we need to find the anchor, the ship, and its contents. We could be on our way in a few weeks. Care to join us, Dr. McKay?” Eddy smiled, but shook her head no.
“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’ve got too much work to do, and then there’s my grandson’s sixth birthday party. I know someone else who’d be happy to go, though.” Eddy looked at me and my mind started jumping around like popcorn in a hot pot.
“Do you scuba dive, Peggy?” asked Dr. Hunter.
I was so eager that I jumped off the chair. “Well sir, I’ve already signed up for lessons and start tomorrow.” I hoped Eddy couldn’t see my neck and ears. Mom said they always turned red when I was making stuff up. But what harm was there in saying something when it was going to be true soon enough … that is right after I figured out how to get Mom to agree to letting me take lessons. “I’m sure I’ll have my Level 1 certification by the time we’re ready to go, sir — that is if I’m allowed to join you.”
“And your parents, what would they say about you going off to search for a sunken ship?”
“Well, I don’t have a dad. He died a long time ago.” Before Dr. Hunter had time to say he felt sorry for me, I added: “That’s okay, I’m used to it. And my mom, well she loves stuff like this, right Eddy?” Now if I had to share what Aunt Margaret would think, I’d be sunk like the Intrepid. Dr. Hunter was quiet and rubbed his chin —