“Ships of Discovery”
(See D. Beigel, pp. 74-77, Fall 1992 Naval History)
Commander Bruce Castleman, U.S. Navy—On page 77 of this pictorial, there is an inset photograph of a statue of Columbus using an astrolabe. However, there is no record of Columbus using an astrolabe. He carried one on his first voyage, but never used it, even when he concluded that his quadrant needed repair. Both Fray Bartolomo de las Casas’s abstract of Columbus’s log of the first voyage, and Columbus’s own letters to the Spanish sovereigns concerning the third voyage indicate that he took all of his observations with marine quadrants. We do not know what he looked like, and know he never used an astrolabe, so the statue fits right in with the many popular—but inaccurate—notions of Columbus.
The short treatment of Columbus’s navigation in the television documentary series Columbus and the Age of Discovery shows how such notions can be created and reinforced. In one episode, the historian Dr. Mauricio Obregon demonstrated how to use a quadrant to determine latitude by local apparent noon. But, in 1492, this technique was known only by Portuguese navigators with access to the solar declination tables of Rabbi Jose Vizinho, an astronomer in the service of the Portuguese crown. Columbus saw Rabbi Vizinho experimenting with these tables during a voyage to Guinea in 1486, but they were issued in manuscript form only to Portuguese voyagers until after Columbus’s return to Europe in 1493—-when there was no more need for secrecy—and published in 1495. The earliest surviving copy dates from about 1510.
“. . . Nailed the Colors to the Mast”
(See R. B. Frank, pp. 6-12, Winter 1992 Naval History)
James F. Gorman—Mr. Frank is mistaken when he describes SC radar as a surface-search radar; it was an air-search radar. The surface-search set in use at the time of the Guadalcanal campaign was the SG radar. □
“The Romance of the Subchasers”
(See J. Rousmaniere, pp. 42-45, Summer 1992; T. Stone, p. 61, Winter 1992 Naval History)
Paul Silverstone—Mr. Rousmaniere assumed incorrectly that the British predecessors of the subchasers were minelayers. Actually, “M.L.” stands for “motor launch.” The first motor launches for the Royal Navy were built in the United States in 1915. There was an original order of 50 followed by an additional order of 500; they all were delivered within 16 months.
However, some motor launches were used for minelaying. In his book Cin- derellas of the Fleet, William W. Nutting wrote, “When the M.L.s were designed no one had the slightest idea that they would ever be called upon for the work of minelaying.” But, toward the end of World War I, some of them did perform this service, although they carried only two mines each.
I would also be interested to learn which German submarine was sunk by a subchaser. I examined the lists of U-boats sunk in World War I and found that the only one sunk by the U.S. Navy was the U-58, destroyed by the USS Fanning (DD-37) and the USS Nicholson (DD-52) on 17 November 1917.
“Armored Ships: The Ships, Their Settings, and the Ascendancy They Maintained for 80 Years”
(See M. Muir, pp. 60-61, Fall 1991; H. D. Huycke, p. 3, Summer 1992 Naval History)
Murray Dear—Mr. Huycke is mistaken regarding the nationality of the light cruiser HMS Newcastle which chased the Imperial German Navy cruiser SMS Leipzig off the coast of Mexico in 1914. The Newcastle—one of the Bristol- or Tower-class light cruisers—was a ship of the Royal Navy.
In August 1914, the fledgling Royal Australian Navy (RAN) consisted of the battle cruiser HMAS Australia, the light cruisers HMAS Sydney, HMAS Melbourne, HMAS Encounter, and HMAS Pioneer plus three destroyers and two submarines.
In the early months of World War I, the RAN was engaged mainly in operations in the Southwest Pacific, principally the New Zealand occupation of German Samoa and the Australian capture of German New Guinea in which operation the submarine AE1 was lost. However, the RAN’s greatest success was the sinking of the German light cruiser SMS Emden by the Sydney at the Cocos Islands in November 1914.
The Newcastle's, sister ship, HMS Glasgow had the distinction of serving in all three actions involving the ships of Vice Admiral Von Spee’s squadron: the Battles of Coronel and the Falklands as well as the sinking of the German light cruiser SMS Dresden at the Juan Fernandez Islands.
“LSTs: Marvelous at Fifty”
(See K. King, pp. 37-41, Winter 1992 Naval History)
Ray Fahnestock—While I enjoyed Commander King’s article, I would like to set the record straight on one item. The article states that six LSTs “were lost on a single day in 1943 to an ammunition explosion.” Actually, during this tragedy at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on 21 May 1944, there were quite a number of explosions that destroyed the six LSTs and numerous small craft. The ships—manned by U.S. Coast Guard and Navy crews—were carrying men of the 2d and 4th Marine Divisions en route to the invasion of Saipan and Tinian in the Marianas. That day, 163 men were killed and 396 were wounded. I know all this because, as a member of the 23d Marines, I was in the USS LST-42 that was lucky enough to be far back in the channel.
Editor’s Note: The 1944 incident was covered in detail by Howard Shuman, in his article “The Other Pearl Harbor Disaster,” pp. 32-36, Summer 1988 Naval History
“The Case for Captain Lord”
(See C. McLean and D. L. Eno, pp. 26-29, Spring 1992 Naval History)
John Protasio—I must strongly contest the conclusion of Lieutenant Commander McLean and Mr. Eno regarding the innocence of Captain Stanley Lord.
Although they point out correctly the inherent weakness of the arguments with regard to the differences in the timing of events, I question their dismissal of the variable of currents. In that part of the North Atlantic, the current flows in a southerly direction. Given that the Californian had stopped about an hour and a half before the Titanic collided with the iceberg, she must have drifted a few miles closer to the scene.
The authors try to defuse the case against Captain Lord by changing some words. They imply that the bridge crew on the Californian saw “flares” when they reported to Captain Lord that night— and later at the British hearings—that they had seen “rockets.” The authors deny that the ship “disappeared” even though both Second Officer Herbert Stone and Apprentice James Gibson used this word liberally in their sworn testimony.
Another major argument in support of Captain Lord concerns the bearings of the mysterious neighbor. But. as any mariner can tell you, bearings can be misleading—and Captain Lord himself stated that it was “a very deceiving night.”
Much has been made of the Morse signal lamps. Both the Titanic and the Californian signaled their neighbor by Morse light, but neither saw any reply. The authors claim these signal lamps had a range of 16 miles, but it is difficult to determine the brightness of signals of two particular ships on a particular night eight decades ago. In fact, even the Titanic Historical Society is unaware of the range of these signal lamps.
Commander McLean and Mr. Eno play up the fact that Captain Lord, Second Officer Stone, and Apprentice Gibson believed that the mysterious ship was a tramp steamer and belittle Third Officer Charles Groves’s contention that it was a large passenger liner. Yet, Third Officer Groves was on watch during the crucial moment when the other three were not present, and he clearly saw the ship as a passenger liner. While the Titanic's lights continued to burn until her final plunge, he stated that—had the other ship veered to the port, as the Titanic did— her lights would appear to go out.
There is more to consider on this point. Though James Gibson believed her to be a small steamer, he conceded that with the aid of binoculars he detected a haze of lights. While the authors insist a passenger liner the size of the Titanic could not be mistaken for a tramp steamer, a master mariner I contacted stated that at a distance of 17 miles in conditions much the same as that fateful April night, once he mistook the Cunard liner Queen Elizabeth 2—a ship of one-and-a-half times the tonnage of the Titanic—for a much smaller ship.
Much of the case on Captain Lord’s behalf is based on Second Officer Stone’s testimony. The inherent problem is that Herbert Stone, as officer-of-the-watch, shared some of the responsibility for the Californian's inaction. Even Leslie Harrison, a staunch supporter of Captain Lord, remarked that Second Officer Stone “would have served Captain Lord better had he shown a little more urgency in informing him of his bewilderment at the odd conduct of the ship he was watching.” Herbert Stone was essentially a codefendant and, as such, had an vested interest in clearing the Californian. Hence, many things he said were self-serving statements after the fact (The absence of any reference to the rockets in the log is proof that some of the Californian's officers were not trustworthy.).
Second Officer Stone said that he did not believe the ship he was observing was in any danger. However, Apprentice Gibson recalled him stating, “A ship is not going to fire rockets at sea for nothing.” Nor did he assume that the rockets came from a ship beyond the horizon. In fact, he informed Captain Lord numerous times that night that the neighboring vessel had fired rockets. The following morning, when the news of the Titanic's loss was heard. Second Officer Stone told Charles Groves, “I saw rockets in my watch.” Even on the witness stand, the second officer conceded he was “sure” at least one rocket came from this ship and that, with the aid of binoculars, James Gibson had noticed a flash on the deck appear with the sixth rocket.
Finally, there is no getting around the fact that no matter where the rockets came from, whether or not signal lamps were seen, or if the bridge crew had trouble telling if the ship was a tramp steamer or a passenger liner, it was still Captain Lord’s duty to investigate. Captain Lord admitted that white rockets constituted a distress signal and stated that he was not satisfied with Second Officer Stone’s answer to his question of whether these rockets were company signals. He had everything to gain and nothing to lose by rousing his wireless operator and going to the bridge himself. Captain Lord’s failure to take either one of these actions to investigate what seemed to be recognized distress signals indicate negligence and poor judgment. Thus, Captain Stanley Lord stands guilty as charged.
The Papers of John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich
Dr. Roger A. Morriss—Readers of Naval History will be interested to learn of the recent purchase by the National Maritime Museum of the papers of John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich. His career as a diplomat, politician, and administrator, spanned the major events of the mid-18th century. He became an Admiralty Commissioner in 1744, and served as First Lord of Admiralty for three separate terms spanning four decades. Consequently, his papers reflect relations between the “maritime powers” and France at the time of the mid-century peace, the state of Europe following the Seven Years War, and the conduct of British naval affairs during the period of deteriorating relations with the American colonies and throughout the American War of Independence. These main themes, moreover, are set within correspondence concerned with the politics of central government, patronage, and the local affairs of Huntingdonshire and Cambridgeshire.
This collection will be very helpful to those who wish to investigate naval aspects of the American Revolution. More than 3,600 documents relate to British naval affairs between 1771 and 1782, including 70 notes and minutes of cabinet meetings and more than 300 letters from King George III.
Categories contained in the papers include Captain Cook’s voyages, various nautical subjects—lighthouses, the health of seamen, John Harrison and his watches, and the Royal Marines, for example—the East Indies and Irish affairs. A major asset to research is Sir Edward Warner's report, produced for the Royal Commission on Historical Manuscripts in 1976, which contains both a brief summary of every document and an index to the correspondents.
Research of this period is well served by the purchase of these papers. One of the first subjects for reinterpretation will almost certainly be the degree of responsibility of Lord Sandwich for the loss of the American colonies. Partly because of his apparent moral weakness in his private life—a love of gambling, his friendship with John Wilkes, and a mistress who was murdered by a young clergyman—the Victorians and their heirs made Lord Sandwich the scapegoat for an imperial disaster. Although these particular papers reveal little of his private life, they do fully document the depth of his experience, the range of his interests, his dedication to public affairs, and the problems and personalities with which he had to contend.
Those wishing to use the papers for research should write to: Dr. Roger A. Morriss. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London, SE10 9NF, England.
“Columbus Revealed”
(See J. E. Dumene, pp. 44-49, Fall 1992; W. J. Shepherd, p. 62, Winter 1992 Naval History)
Dr. Richard P. McDonnell, Instructor in History, University of South Carolina at Beaufort—Ms. Dumene’s review article gave short shrift to the firsthand findings of Samuel Eliot Morison in the landfall controversy. She seems to have taken the views of Joseph Judge and Steven Mitchell as the last word on the location of Columbus’ San Salvador. Neglected are the conclusions of the noted Columbus historian Dr. Mauricio Oberegon and the television documentary Columbus and the Age of Discovery that Watling Island is Columbus’s first landfall. Ms. Dumene should have included a small but major work in her otherwise balanced bibliographic review: the outstanding The Caribbean as Columbus Saw It by Admiral Morison and Dr. Oberegon published in 1954.
While going through a rather good, albeit lengthy review of the translations of Bishop Las Casas’s abstract of Columbus’s log in order to disprove Admiral Morison’s theories, Ms. Dumene neglects to mention Dr. William F. Keegan’s archaeological evidence that proves the existence of Columbus’ “serpent” by the discovery of a crocodile leg bone in the Bahamas—crocodiles were hitherto unknown to the islands. This evidence bolsters Admiral Morison’s claim that Watling Island was San Salvador.
“The Seawolf s Sodium-Cooled Power Plant”
(See R. B. Laning, pp. 45-48, Spring 1992 Naval History)
William J. Morgan—The article about the USS Seawolf (SSN-575) and her sodium- cooled power plant brought back a memory from the summer of 1957. I had temporary duty on board the USS Gilmore (AS-16) when the Seawolf was in Key West, Florida, for torpedo trials. Having a free day, I intended to spend it on board the Seawolf and, after checking with the submarine squadron office the day before, was cleared to catch the liberty boat. However, the next morning, when I arrived alongside the already underway Seawolf, the officer of the deck (OOD) declined to let me board because the Seawolf would be in the far reaches of her operating area later that day and was scheduled to return to New London, Connecticut, immediately after the torpedo trials.
Then, the captain of the boat—who I am sure was Captain Laning—appeared and asked the OOD what the delay was, and, after hearing my explanation, very kindly let me on board—provided I was willing to ride the torpedo-retriever boat back to Key West.
For a relatively new lieutenant, more recently a chief warrant officer, up from chief quartermaster, it was quite a day! Except for an indoctrination cruise on board a World War II boat, the Seawolf was my first exposure to submarines— and, of course, my first experience with the nuclear Navy. The day was spent tracking and attacking a group of destroyers—in each case, the Seawolf won.
I toured the boat, enjoying her spaciousness and the warm hospitality of the officers and crew. In the reactor compartment, I saw “Buddha” sitting atop the reactor cover and the red alarm boxes with “SCRAM” stenciled above. When I inquired what this meant, the answer was direct and to the point: “Get the hell out of here if the alarm goes off.” I boarded the torpedo retriever with much regret, but not before receiving a card—which I still have—designating me as an honorary member of the Seawolf.
Since that day, I have remained impressed with the caliber of the officers and men of the nuclear Navy. Captain Laning was proud of his command— and rightfully so; he and his men were on the leading edge of developing technology—an exciting and quite demanding position.
To Captain Laning, I say: “Although belated, thank you very much for allowing me to come aboard.”