Adventures of a Sea Hunter_ In Search of Famous Shipwrecks - James P. Delgado [41]
In the morning, we will announce the news of the discovery, and once again Carpathia’s name will flash through the airwaves and appear on the front page. My hope, as I look at the fleeting images from the bottom of the sea, is that people in the modern, fast-paced world we now live in will remember the tragedy that led to Carpathia’s fame and the special mettle of her officers and crew who, despite the dangers, acted in the best traditions of the sea. In the days that follow, we are not disappointed. Carpathia again dominates the world’s stage, if only briefly, as we prepare for more sea hunting.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CATHERINE THE GREAT’S LOST ART
OFF FINLAND: OCTOBER 4, 1771
Reynoud Lorentz and his ship Vrouw Maria were in serious trouble. The ship was stuck fast on a rock, and from where Lorentz stood near the stern, he could hear water pouring into the hold. Everywhere he looked, he saw more rocks surrounding the ship like giant teeth waiting to devour her. Vrouw Maria was already badly damaged, and the violent surf threatened to overwhelm the efforts of the crew, who strained at the pumps to try to keep the flooding down. Panicked, the men shouted up at Lorentz, demanding that he give the order to abandon ship. Better to save their own lives than the cargo, they argued. Lorentz did not want to leave his cargo behind, particularly not this cargo. The narrow stack of crates in the hold, loaded quietly on the dock in Amsterdam, was far too precious. But, in the end, he conceded that it was time to go.
The voyage that was now foundering along with Vrouw Maria had begun on August 12, 1771, as workers began to load her with cargo for St. Petersburg. On September 5, as a strong southwest wind filled the sails, Vrouw Maria raised anchor and headed out to sea, “in the name of God,” as Lorentz wrote in the logbook. Heavy winds and stormy weather battered the tiny ship as she made her way up the North Sea, passing Jutland in a driving rainstorm. Finally, on the morning of September 23, Vrouw Maria anchored off the Danish port of Elsinore, where all ships running through Danish waters had to stop and pay customs duty.
The records of the custom house list Vrouw Maria’s cargo as sugar, “Brazil wood,” cotton, cambric, calico, linen, zinc, cheese, paper, indigo, mercury, butter and other items—a nondescript array that would hopefully fetch a good price in the Russian winter capital. No mention was made of the ship’s “special cargo,” a shipment for the Russian Imperial Court. Its presence on Vrouw Maria may have been a secret, or, as Finnish historian Christian Ahlstro m has noted, because royal shipments were usually exempt from customs duties, it simply may have not been listed by the Danish authorities.
Heading up the Baltic towards the Gulf of Finland, Vrouw Maria sailed into a storm on the September 30. For the next three days, the ship beat through heavy seas and rain. Lorentz did not realize that Vrouw Maria, drifting in the storm, was off course. Then, on the evening of October 3, the ship hit a submerged rock. The collision brought Vrouw Maria to a sudden stop, and Lorentz wrote in the ship’s log that “at first we thought that we would sink when a high wave lifted us.” As she drifted along, the ship hit another rock: “We struck hard and lost our rudder and part of the stern.” Leaking badly, Vrouw Maria drifted off again, and the crew anchored her. Every man took a turn at the pumps to try and get rid of the water that was rapidly filling the ship. They pumped all night, but by the early morning, the storm was still blowing and the crew was exhausted. “Since we could not continue pumping and save the ship and its cargo,” said Lorentz, he gave order to abandon ship.
Crowded into a small dinghy, the crew rowed over to a small island, not much bigger than a rock, and spent a cold night. When help arrived the next morning, Lorentz and his men learned that they were stranded off the southern coast of Finland