The SEA HUNTERS: True Adventures with Famous Shipwrecks - Hardcover

9780684830278: The SEA HUNTERS: True Adventures with Famous Shipwrecks
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Clive Cussler is acclaimed worldwide as the Grandmaster of Adventure, and his series of novels starring his action hero Dirk Pitt now have over 70,000,000 copies in print.

Whether it's deep-sea diving, climbing mountains, or driving classic automobiles, adventure is at the heart of Cussler's life. As Cussler himself writes, "Providing my readers adventure tales based around a devil-may-care character by the name of Dirk Pitt is only one chapter of my existence. I'm addicted to the challenge of the search, whether it's for lost ship- wrecks, airplanes, steam locomotives, or people."

In The Sea Hunters, his first nonfiction book, Cussler explores the special world of undersea adventure that inspired and has its fictional parallel in the Dirk Pitt novels. He describes his lifelong love for the sea and ships, and how his involvement with the search for John Paul Jones's famous Revolutionary War ship, the Bonhomme Richard, led to his establishing the NUMA (National Underwater and Marine Agency) Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to the discovery and preservation of historic shipwrecks.

From the more than sixty shipwrecks Cussler and his NUMA volunteers have found, he has chosen the twelve most interesting, whether because of the ship's history, the circumstances of its sinking, or the trouble, frustration, and peril that were encountered while trying to find the sunken wreck.

With the same wonderful storytelling that Cussler brings to his novels, he describes his searches for such ships as the Union 24-gun frigate Cumberland, sunk during the Civil War by the Confederate ironclad CSS Virginia (formerly the Merrimack); the Confederate Hunley, which became the first submarine in history to sink a warship; the U-21, a German U-boat, which during World War I became the first sub to sink a warship and escape; and the American troop transport Leopoldville, which was destroyed by a German submarine on Christmas Eve, 1944, with huge loss of life; as well as Engine #51, the lost locomotive of Kiowa Creek, which roared off a storm-weakened high bridge in 1878.

The wrecks date as far back as 1840 and span the continental United States, the Atlantic Ocean, and the North Sea.

As he does in the Dirk Pitt novels, Cussler opens each story with a creative dramatization of the ship and the way she met her end, then brings the story into the present as he describes the immense research and careful preparation so often necessary to find a long lost ship.

For example, he describes the tragic fate of the steamboat Lexington, which burst into flames in the frigid winter of 1840, causing the loss of over 150 lives -- but sparing Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who missed the trip only because he arrived at the dock seconds too late.

There's also the odd fate of the steamboat Charleston, which became the warship Zavala and which was so horribly damaged in a terrible Atlantic storm in 1842 that it was abandoned in a Galveston, Texas, marsh, and slowly sank from view. In tracing its location, Clive Cussler finally found it -- under a parking lot!

Dramatic, compelling, and personal, Clive Cussler's The Sea Hunters is as exciting and satisfy- ing as the best of his Dirk Pitt novels.

"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.

About the Author:
Clive Cussler is acclaimed worldwide as the Grandmaster of Adventure. He got his start in advertising, first as an award-winning copy writer, and then as creative director for two of the nation's largest agencies. His initial foray into fiction was in 1973, when he wrote his first Dirk Pitt® novel.

Since then he has continued to write Dirk Pitt® adventures while living a life that nearly parallels that of his action hero. Like Pitt, Cussler enjoys discovering and collecting things of historical significance. With NUMA (National Underwater & Marine Agency, a non profit group begun by Cussler) he has had an amazing record of finding over 60 shipwrecks, one of which was the long-lost Confederate submarine Hunley. Cussler also has a renowned and extensive classic car collection, which features over 80 examples of custom coachwork.

Along with being Chairman of NUMA, he is also a fellow of the Explorers Club (which honored him with the Lowell Thomas Award for outstanding underwater exploration), the Royal Geographical Society and the American Society of Oceanographers. Married to Barbara Knight for 40 years, with three children and two grandchildren, he divides his time between the mountains of Colorado and the deserts of Arizona.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter 1

Through by Daylight
Monday, January 13, 1840

Stepping from the two-wheeled hansom cab, a tall bearded man shivered from the bitter cold and buried his chin beneath the collar of his coat. He set his carpetbag on the icy sidewalk, reached up, and handed the fare to the cabbie, who sat elevated behind the carriage. The man paused to glance at his pocket watch. The Roman numerals on the gold timepiece told him it was two minutes past three P.M. Reassuring himself that his ticket was firmly in the breast pocket of his coat, he hurried through the terminal to the pier on the other side.

The bearded man had booked passage on the steamboat Lexington, bound from New York for Stonington, Connecticut, the terminus where passengers transferred onto the railroad to continue their journey to Boston. He was returning home there, where he was Smith Professor of Modern Languages at Harvard, after giving three lectures and selling his latest poem. He never considered remaining in the confines of a New York hotel longer than necessary. He rarely felt comfortable in the city and was anxious to reunite with his wife and children without delay.

Seeing black smoke surge through the steamboat's tall forward stack, and heating the shrill sound of its steam whistle, he began running madly across the wooden planks of the pier, forcing his way through a wave of passengers who had disembarked from the steamboat Richmond. Apprehension mounted and quickly turned to frustration.

Too late. He had missed his boat.

The boarding ramp had been laid on the pier by dockworkers, and the ropes that had moored the boat to the pier were being pulled aboard by her crew. Only a few feet separated the hull from the dock. The man was tempted to jump the gap. But one glance at the ominous, frigid water and he quickly changed his mind.

The captain was standing in the open door of the wheelhouse, staring at the late arrival. He smiled and shrugged. Once a boat cast off and left the dock, no captain ever turned back for tardy passengers. He threw the disappointed ticket holder a brief wave, stepped into the wheelhouse, and closed the door, happy to return to the warmth of the pot-bellied stove beside the big steering helm.

The man on the pier stood there panting, his normally white face turned crimson. He stomped on the planking of the pier to shake the crust of ice from his feet as he watched Long Island Sound's fastest steamer slip into the East River, her side-paddle wheels churning the gray-green water. He failed to notice a dockworker, who moved beside him, puffing on a pipe.

The stranger nodded at the departing boat. "She leave without you?" he asked.

"If I had arrived ten seconds earlier, I could have jumped aboard," the stranded passenger answered slowly.

"There's ice forming on the Sound," said the dockworker. "A miserable night to be makin' a passage."

"The Lexington is sturdy and fast. I've booked passage on her a dozen times. I'll wager she'll dock in Stonington by midnight."

"Maybe so, maybe not. If I was you, I'd be thankful to stay warm on land till the next boat leaves in the mornin'."

The man gripped the carpetbag under one arm and shoved his gloved hands deep in the pockets of his long coat. "Curse the luck," he said gruffly. "Another night in the city is the last thing I wanted."

He took one last look at the steamer making its way upriver through the cold, forbidding water, then turned and walked back to the terminal, unaware that those few feet between the dock and the hull of the departing boat had spared him an ugly and violent death.

"I'd have sworn that crazy fool was going to jump for it," said Captain George Child.

The pilot of the Lexington, Captain Stephen Manchester, turned without taking his hands from the helm. "A mystery to me why passengers wait until the last minute to board."

Child stepped to the front of the wheelhouse and peered at a thermometer that was mounted on the exterior window frame. "Barely four degrees above zero. She'll hit a good five degrees below before this night is over."

"We'll see ice before we dock in Stonington," said Manchester.

"The old Lex is the strongest boat on the Sound." Child pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it. "She'll see us through."

A veteran ship's officer with four years' experience in steamboats traveling the Sound, Child routinely served as master of Mohegan, another of the passenger line's steamers. But this night he was substituting for the boat's regular master, Captain Jacob Vanderbilt. The brother of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt, who was in the early stages of amassing a fortune in ship and rail transportation, "Intrepid Jake," as he was called, had a reputation that bordered on the foolhardy. He often drove the Lexington on her runs across Long Island Sound at a furious rate. Fortunately for Jake, as it turned out, he was home with a nasty head cold and had no choice but to turn over his command to Captain Child.

Unlike Jake Vanderbilt, George Child was a cautious skipper who rarely took chances. He stood by Manchester as the pilot concentrated on navigating the Lexington through the dangerous tides of Hell Gate. From there, the tortuous narrows of the East River widened slightly until the boat passed Throgs Neck and steamed into the often treacherous waters of the Sound.

He left the comfortable heat of the wheelhouse and made a brief inspection of the cargo. The space beneath the promenade deck was packed with nearly 150 bales of cotton, some piled within a foot of the smokestack casing. For some strange reason Child failed to be concerned about the heavy concentration of inflammable cotton stacked so close to the casing that had caught fire only a few days before. So long as the necessary repairs had been made, he chose to ignore the potential hazard.

The rest of the cargo, in wooden crates, was stowed around the shields surrounding the engine. Satisfied the cargo was tied down properly and would not shift under the onslaught of heavy waves, he dropped by the cabin occupied by Jesse Comstock. The boat's clerk was busily counting the money taken in from the passengers, who paid for their meals in advance. Child did not interrupt Comstock's concentration, but stepped to a hatch and dropped down a ladder into the center section of the boat, where the engine and boilers were mounted.

The Lexington was powered by one of the most efficient steam engines of her day, built by the West Point Foundry. This was a vertical-beam engine, commonly called a walking beam, activated by a forty-eight-inch-diameter steam cylinder with an eleven-foot stroke. The engine's piston rod was connected to a long shaft that drove the forward pivot on the walking beam, converting the up-and-down thrust to the aft shaft that powered the crank that turned the Lexington's big twenty-three-foot-diameter paddle wheels with their nine-foot sweeps. Her boiler furnaces were originally designed to burn wood but had now been modified to take coal. When a full head of steam approached the red line on her pressure gauges, she cut the water at close to twenty-five miles an hour, faster than most Confederate blockade runners two decades later.

Courtland Hemstead, the boat's chief engineer, was examining the quivering needles on the dials of his brass steam gauges when Child tapped him on the shoulder. "Soon as we pass Sands Point, Mr. Hemstead, pour on the coal," Child said over the roar of the boilers and the sound of steam. "I want a fast run."

"'Through by daylight,' that's our motto," Hemstead said, pausing to spit a stream of tobacco juice into the bilge. "Too bad Captain Jake came down with the fever and you had to leave your fireplace for a run this night."

"I'd rather sail in January cold than a November storm."

"Cold is the last thing I worry about down here by the boilers."

"Enjoy it while you can," Child said, laughing. "When summer comes, you'll be sweating in Hades."

Hemstead turned and began shouting orders to firemen Benjamin Cox, Charles Smith, and two other stokers, as they shoveled coal into the fire boxes of the big boilers. Child enjoyed the warmth for a minute or two longer before climbing back up the ladder and making his way to the captain's cabin to wash up for dinner with the passengers.

Manchester turned the wheel over to his helmsman, Martin Johnson. He wiped the glass, which had begun to mist from the inside, and peered at the beacon on Kings Point. "Three degrees to port," he said to Johnson.

"Coming three degrees to port," Johnson acknowledged.

Manchester picked up a telescope from the forward counter and peered at a schooner that was approaching on an opposite course to port. He noted that she was heeled to the leeward from a brisk breeze. He put the telescope back and studied the Sound ahead. The sun had dropped behind Manhattan Island in their wake and darkness was settling over the water. What little ice he was able to see was caked mostly on the calmer surface around inlets of the shoreline. There was no apprehension as he stared over the blackening water. Now that they were in the open Sound, the trickiest part of the voyage was over, and he began to breathe a little easier. He felt safe on the Lexington. She was a stout boat, fast and ruggedly built for heavy weather.

Her keel had been laid by the shipyard of Bishop and Simonson of New York on a warm Monday in September of 1834. Unlike later steamboats that were designed by men who drafted detailed plans, a wooden model of the hull was carved and altered to the whims of Commodore Vanderbilt until he was pleased by the results. Then, using the model as a guide, full-size outlines were drawn in chalk. Next, carpenters, exacting craftsmen of their time, cut and joined her timbered framework.

Later renowned as a man who revered Ebenezer Scrooge, Cornelius Vanderbilt stepped out of character and went overboard in making the Lexington the finest passenger vessel of the era. He lavished a considerable fortune on ornate teak deck railings, cabin doors, staircases, and interior paneling. A fancy lounge and dining saloon comprised the main cabin. All deck lighting, curtains, and furniture were of superb quality and could have graced the finest mansions of New York City.

The Commodore personally scrutinized every inch of her construction, and conceived a number of advanced innovations in her design. He insisted on the finest seasoned white oak and yellow pine for her beams and floor timbers. Integral strength was assured by a stress plan lifted from Town's Patent for Bridges. The hull was super-strong, with a heavy box frame, unusual for most ships before or since.

No safety feature was overlooked. Her smokestack was well cased through the decks, and cinders were passed through a wide pipe fitted in the hull that expelled them into the sea. No exposed woodwork was installed near the boilers or steam pipes. The Lexington even had her own fire engine, complete with pumps and hose. Three large lifeboats hung in their davits behind the paddle wheels along with a life raft that was tied to the forward deck.

The boat went into service on Monday, June 1, 1835, and was an immediate success. At first, she ran as a day boat between Providence, Rhode Island, and New York. Two years later, she was switched to the Stonington run. Her passenger accommodations were advertised as luxurious and expensive. Lady passengers were especially courted, Vanderbilt providing all the niceties they enjoyed. Food was superb and the service second to none.

Either Commodore Vanderbilt sailed under a lucky star or else he enjoyed an acute sixth sense. In December of 1838, Vanderbilt's toughest competitor, the New Jersey Steam Navigation and Transportation Company, made the Commodore an offer he couldn't refuse. They paid him $60,000 for the fastest boat on the Sound, and then spent another $12,000 refurbishing the interior and converting her boiler furnaces to burn coal. His brother, Jake, agreed to stay on as captain of the Lexington until the family's new boat was launched.

Manchester pulled a lever that rang a bell in the engine room and called down through a voice tube. "We're in the clear now, Mr. Hemstead. Your boys can shovel on the coal."

"As you wish, captain," the chief engineer replied loudly over the tube.

Smoke spewed out her tall stack, thickened and mushroomed. A white bone grew and arched up around the bows as the Lexington leapt forward. The water beneath her huge paddle wheels seethed and boiled.To manchester, she was like an unleashed greyhound. He never failed to be stirred when the big engine flexed its muscle and hurled the hull across the water as fast as if not faster than any other boat ever built.

He checked the thermometer again. Already the pointer hovered at zero.

Not a good night to stand outside, he thought. He glanced down at the water skimming past the hull, spreading into the wake, and couldn't imagine the horror of finding himself immersed in it this night.

Most captains of the passenger boats plying the Sound were not comfortable mingling with the passengers and remained aloof in the wheel-house or their cabins during most of the trip. But George Child was a warm and friendly man. He felt it was his duty to show courtesy to his passengers and reassure any, and there were a fair number, who were fearful of traveling on a steamboat.

As Child stepped into the main cabin fifteen minutes before the call to dinner was announced, he looked over the passengers, who were seated in groups, conversing sociably around the stoves. Job Sand, the tall, distinguished headwaiter, moved around the cabin serving refreshments. Although Sand was white, the other five waiters, the kitchen help, Joseph Robinson, the boat's esteemed chef, and Susan Holcomb, chambermaid, were all black.

Without checking the boarding list, Child guessed there were approximately 115 passengers who had paid the $1 fare, meals extra. Deck passage was 50 cents, but there were no takers tonight. Counting his crew of 34, there were almost 150 men, women, and children on board the Lexington for the run to Stonington. It was as though the boat held a miniature city.

Several card players were seated at the tables, quietly engrossed in their game. Two well-known Boston comedy actors, Charles Eberle and Henry J. Finn, kept the conversation lively as the cards were dealt. Never ones to ignore an audience, they had generously offered to act out a scene from their new play after the passengers had dined. Peter McKenna, a businessman from New York, won the first pot.

Mothers and fathers gathered on the sofas and entertained their young children with stories and toys purchased in the city. Mrs. Russell Jarvis, described as a woman of uncommon beauty, kept her two lively daughters occupied by counting beams from the lighthouses rising around the danger points of the Sound. James Bates scanned a newspaper while his wife read aloud from a book of poet...

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  • PublisherSimon & Schuster
  • Publication date1996
  • ISBN 10 0684830272
  • ISBN 13 9780684830278
  • BindingHardcover
  • Number of pages368
  • Rating

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