Friday, June 10, 2011

Connemara IV

A pleasure yacht found adrift in the Atlantic south of Bermuda on September 26, 1955; it is usually stated in the stories (Berlitz, Winer) that the crew vanished while the yacht survived being at sea during three hurricanes. The 1955 Atlantic hurricane season lists only one storm coming near Bermuda towards the end of August, hurricane "Edith"; of the others, "Flora" was too far to the east, and "Katie" arrived after the yacht was recovered. It was confirmed that the Connemara IV was empty and in port when "Edith" may have caused the yacht to slip her moorings and drift out to sea.

SS Marine Sulphur Queen

SS Marine Sulphur Queen, a T2 tanker converted from oil to sulfur carrier, was last heard from on February 4, 1963 with a crew of 39 near the Florida Keys. Marine Sulphur Queen was the first vessel mentioned in Vincent Gaddis' 1964 Argosy Magazine article, but he left it as having "sailed into the unknown", despite the Coast Guard report which not only documented the ship's badly-maintained history, but declared that it was an unseaworthy vessel that should never have gone to sea.


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SS Marine Sulphur Queen

 

SS Marine Sulphur Queen, T2 tanker ship converted to carrying molten sulphur, noted for its disappearance in 1963 near the southern coast of Florida, taking the lives of 39 crewmen.
In the investigation, the Coast Guard determined that the ship was unsafe and not seaworthy, and never should have sailed. The final report suggested four causes of the disaster, all due to poor design and maintenance of the ship. The loss of the ship was the subject of lengthy litigation between the owner and families of the missing men.
Despite the clear cause of the disaster, an inaccuate and incomplete version of the ship's disappearance is often used to justify Bermuda Triangle conspiracies.


History

The vessel, originally named SS Esso New Haven, was built by Sun Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company, Chester, Pennsylvania, in March 1944, one of many T2 tankers built to carry and transport oil. In 1960, she was placed in dry dock by Bethlehem Steel Company, Sparrows Point, Maryland, and converted to carrying a cargo of molten sulphur, and given a name change to Marine Sulphur Queen. In order to carry out the planned function of carrying molten sulphur, a continuous, independent tank 306 feet long, 30 feet 6 inches wide and 33 feet high was constructed out of the original holds, necessitating the removal of all transverse bulkheads in the original centerline tanks and modifying the internal structure; this tank in turn was divided into four smaller tanks internally. A void surrounded the tank on all sides, leaving a 2-foot clearance on the sides and bottom, with three feet left between the top and the ship's weather deck[1]. A steam system was installed throughout to maintain the molten sulphur at roughly 255 °F (124 °C).
The ship's last voyage began on 2 February 1963 out of Beaumont, Texas, with a cargo of sulphur weighing 15,260 tons. On 4 February, near Florida, an ordinary radio message was sent by a crewman, giving the position of the ship at 25°45' N, 86°W. The Marine Sulphur Queen was listed as missing on 6 February. A search of the Straits of Florida where the ship was believed to have gone down was called off after 19 days, after yielding life preservers and some debris, but no trace of the ship or the 39 men aboard her. At the time of her 4 February position, she was in rough, nearly-following seas of 16 feet, with northerly winds of 25-46 knots. [2]


Investigation

A Coast Guard investigation concluded several facts about the Marine Sulphur Queen which, by themselves, should have prevented the ship from going to sea at all. The most important were the incidents of fire beneath and along the sides of the four large sulphur tanks; according to former crewmen these fires were so common that ship's officers gave up sounding the fire alarm. On one occasion the ship sailed into a New Jersey harbor, off-loaded cargo, and sailed out with a fire still burning. When a fire was actually put out, the sulphur would puddle and cake around equipment, once shorting out a major electrical generator. Caked sulphur was also found in spaces below the tanks, due to many cracks in the structure.
The Coast Guard also noted that the T2 tanker class had a characteristic "weak back", meaning the keel would split at a point weakened by corrosion, usually around midships. Such a splitting had happened on several T2 tankers, and many were discovered during inspections to have hairline or larger fractures within the keel and on major frames. Companies who owned T2 tankers were ordered to pay attention to the keel when inspecting. Former crewmen also testified that corrosion was everywhere, mentioning inoperable temperature gauges, a ruptured steam coil, and worn packing around the screws. It was recorded that Marine Sulphur Queen was scheduled for a drydock inspection in January, 1963, but it was postponed by the owners, who had complained that cargo deliveries were behind and they needed their ships to catch up. One new crewman, on reporting to the ship just before it sailed for the last time, turned to his wife and pronounced it "a floating garbage can." [3]
In the closing of the inquiry, it came as no surprise that the Coast Guard had this to say:
1. In view of the vast search operations conducted and the debris found and identified as coming from the MARINE SULPHUR QUEEN, the ship and her entire crew of 39 men are presumed to be lost.
2. Concurring with the Board, the vessel apparently was lost on 4 February 1963 on its approach to, or in the vicinity of, the Straits of Florida.
3. Further concurring with the Board, in the absence of survivors or physical remains of the ship, the exact cause of the loss of the MARINE SULPHUR QUEEN cannot be determined.
4. The Board considered many possibilities which may have caused the loss of the ship and rightly declined to assign any order of probability to these causes. In its conclusions the Board commented on the following possible causes:
a. An explosion may have occurred in the cargo tanks.
b. A complete failure of the vessel's hull girder may have caused it to break in two
c. The vessel may have capsized in synchronous rolling
d. A steam explosion may have occurred as the result of a rapid filling of the void space with water.
The record contains ample evidence to support the Board's suppositions. [4]
The Coast Guard also recommended that no remaining T2 tanker be converted into a sulphur carrier without taking into consideration the structure of the ship as originally built. "First, the acceptability of any conversion must be considered on its individual merits, having regard for the existing condition of the vessel and the proposed cargo, route, and service. Secondly, the objection to the conversion of an existing T2 or another tanker of comparable age is associated with the probable condition of the vessel, particularly the cargo portion, due to age, as much as it is due to design considerations." [5]


Litigation

The loss of the ship was subject of a lawsuit filed within weeks of the sinking by relatives of the crew members seeking 2.5 million dollars in damages under two specific federal acts (the Jones Act, 46 U.S.C. § 688; and the Death on the High Seas Act, 46 U.S.C. § 761), based upon maritime laws regarding the unseaworthiness of a vessel. Marine Sulphur Transport Corporation (the owners of the ship), and Marine Transport Lines, Inc. (demise charterer) petitioned for exoneration or at least a limitation of liability. The amount of damages sought would grow to $20 million by 1969.
The United States Court of Appeals (2nd Circuit) concluded that:
  • the ship was not structurally sound as a result of the sulphur tank conversion;
  • the tank was centered too narrowly within the ship resulting in a high center of gravity, which meant that during a roll in heavy seas, it would take longer to recover.
  • the ship was not properly inspected nor maintained by the owners;
In its 25 April 1972 ruling the court denied the exoneration of the owners and found them liable in regard to the unseaworthiness of the ship. It awarded damages to the crew relatives, but denied them punitive damages; the reason for it, as stated in the Coast Guard report, was that no one knew how the ship was lost, and in the absence of the remains of the vessel, they could go no further:
The wrongful death claimants therefore sustained their burden of proving unseaworthiness and there remained only the issue of whether or not one or more of the conditions of unseaworthiness or some other agency caused the disaster. The court found in explicit terms that "no one knows how the ship was lost." The resolution of the question of liability will, under the circumstances, be determined by the allocation of the burden of proof on the causation issue, the existence of a rebuttable presumption and whether or not that presumption has been met. [6]

T2 tanker SS Schenectady, showing her bad keel.

Precedent 


Nearly 20 years prior to the loss of the Marine Sulphur Queen, the United States General Accounting Office published a report titled TO INQUIRE INTO THE DESIGN METHODS OF CONSTRUCTION OF WELDED STEEL MERCHANT VESSELS, 15 July 1946, which was essentially a report of concern over civilian merchant ships, specifically T2 tankers, fracturing amidships at the keel. Even during World War II, the federal government was concerned over the large number of merchant ship casualties not resulting from combat, and investigation centered on possible shoddy construction.
A sister ship, SS Sylvia L. Ossa, went down in heavy seas east of Bermuda on 15 October 1976; all that was recovered was debris and a lifeboat in which the quick-release mechanism was still intact.


Bermuda Triangle connection

The loss of the ship and crew with no trace other than bits of debris placed it on the list of incidents in the Bermuda Triangle. Writers of the subject have placed this ship in every work, sometimes agreeing with the Coast Guard report, other times coming up with their own theories. Vincent Gaddis was the first writer to coin the name Bermuda Triangle in his article for Argosy Magazine in the February 1964 issue, and Marine Sulphur Queen was the first Triangle "victim" he mentioned, barely a year after the ship sank:
"With a crew of thirty-nine, the tanker Marine Sulphur Queen began its final voyage on 2 February 1963, from Beaumont, Texas, with a cargo of molten sulphur. Its destination was Norfolk, Virginia, but it actually sailed into the unknown..." [7]
Gaddis himself gave no theory as to the sinking, and ignored the many physical and personnel discrepancies cited by the Coast Guard. What he did was to reduce the loss of the ship to sailing "into the unknown", as did many writers after him. The effect was to leave an aura of mystery, and as such, many theories, some very outlandish, has been postulated to explain the disappearance of the ship.
In another case of adding to the mystery, the Sci-Fi Channel posted a summary of its program "The Bermuda Triangle: Startling New Secrets" on its website [8], which states that all that was recovered was a lifeboat. The Coast Guard has listed what was recovered and identified for its report, as well as assembling the items for public display during the inquiry, which was photographed. A lifeboat was not among the debris, nor was one recovered.
A 1977 episode of In Search Of discussed the Marine Sulphur Queen incident.[1]


Crew

  • James V. Fanning, Master - Beaumont, TX
  • George E. Watson, Chief Mate - Galveston, TX
  • Henry P. Hall, 2nd Mate - Beaumont, TX
  • Frank J. Cunningham, 3rd Mate - Beaumont, TX
  • George E. Sloat, Radio Officer - Baltimore, MD
  • Leon B. Clauser, Chief Engineer - Beaumont, TX
  • John L. Denton, 1st Asst. Engineer - Friendswood, TX
  • A.R. Van Sickle, 2nd Asst. Engineer - Baltimore, MD
  • E.W. Schneeberger, 3rd Asst. Engineer - Beaumont, TX
  • Adam Martin, Jr., 3rd Asst. Engineer - Austin, TX
  • Evans Phillips, Bosun - Tampa, FL
  • Ceburn R. Cole, DM/AB - Lake Charles, LA
  • Jack R. Schindler, AB - Seattle, WA
  • Fred A. Bodden, AB - Philadelphia, PA
  • Everett E. Arnold, AB - Memphis, TN
  • Willie T. Manuel, AB - Ville Platte, LA
  • James Mck. Bodden, AB - Tampa, FL
  • Nelaton E. Devine, AB - Port Arthur, TX
  • John N. Nieznajski, OS - Gary, IN
  • Clarence McGuire, OS - Bronsen, TX
  • James Phillips, OS - Port Arthur, TX
  • Jesse I. Vicera, Pumpman - Linden, NJ
  • Alejandro Valdez, Oiler - Port Arthur, TX
  • John C. Ardoin, Oiler - Beaumont, TX
  • John Elmer Grice, Oiler - Daytona Beach, FL
  • Henry Clark, FWT - Jersey City, NJ
  • Alphan Tate, FWT - Mamou, LA
  • Leroy Courville, FWT - Groves, TX
  • John Husch, Jr., Wiper - Akron, OH Memorial
  • Aaron Heard, Wiper - Norfolk, VA
  • Juan Santos, Wiper - Newark, NJ
  • Charles L. Dorsey, Chief Steward - Bronx, NY
  • Vincent Thompson, Chief Cook - Baltimore, MD
  • Cornelius Smith, 2nd Cook & Baker - Port Arthur, TX
  • Hugh D. Hunter, Galleyman - Chapel Hill, NC
  • Walter Pleasant, Messman - Port Arthur, TX
  • Wesley Fontenot, Messman - Mamou, LA
  • Robert E. Harold, Utilityman - Norfolk, VA
  • Leroy B. Green, Utilityman - Rahway, NJ


The collected remains of the Marine Sulphur Queen, recovered February 1963. (U.S. Coast Guard)


Career
Name: SS Esso New Haven
Yard number: 407
Launched: March 1944
Career
Name: SS Marine Sulphur Queen
Acquired: 1960
Fate: Went missing off Florida after 4 February 1963
General characteristics
Class and type: T2 tanker
Tonnage: 7,240 GRT
Crew: 39








 







Raifuku Maru

One of the more famous incidents in the Triangle took place in 1921 (some say a few years later), when the Japanese vessel Raifuku Maru (sometimes misidentified as Raikuke Maru) went down with all hands after sending a distress signal which allegedly said "Danger like dagger now. Come quick!", or "It's like a dagger, come quick!" This has led writers to speculate on what the "dagger" was, with a waterspout being the likely candidate (Winer). In reality the ship was nowhere near the Triangle, nor was the word "dagger" a part of the ship's distress call ("Now very danger. Come quick."); having left Boston for Hamburg, Germany, on April 21, 1925, she got caught in a severe storm and sank in the North Atlantic with all hands while another ship, RMS Homeric, attempted an unsuccessful rescue.

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Raifuku Maru, a Japanese freighter ship that allegedly "vanished" during a voyage from Boston to Hamburg, Germany, with a cargo of wheat and a crew of thirty-eight, in April 1925 (some reports erroneously say 1921 or 1924). This case is usually cited as a part of the Bermuda Triangle mystery, but in reality there has been proven to be a much more mundane explanation.

The “Disappearance”

According to the popular story, the RMS Homeric, a vessel of the White Star Line, received a cryptic SOS from the Raifuku Maru on April 21st, 1925, which read, in broken English: “Danger like a dagger now! Come quick!” Reportedly, the Homeric traveled to where the vessel had given the SOS, but found not a trace of the ship. There was much speculation over what the “dagger” was (popular opinion seems to be divided between waterspouts and UFOs), and this was regarded as a genuine mystery of the sea by many. Popular writers on the Bermuda Triangle, specifically Charles Berlitz and Vincent Gaddis, propagated the myth of the vessel’s “mysterious” sinking, and it entered the lexicon along with such other well-known incidents as the Mary Celeste, the Carroll A. Deering, and Flight 19.



Front page of the New York Times, April 23, 1925,
detailing the sinking of SS Raifuku Maru.                                                                                   
                     

Explanation                                       

However, there has been proven to be a much more rational explanation of the mystery. The Raifuku Maru had sailed out of Boston on April 18th, into a heavy storm. The Homeric and several other vessels received the following communication from the Japanese ship’s wireless operator, Masao Hiwatari: “Now very danger! Come quick!” Despite the broken English of the Japanese crewmen, it was obvious that the vessel was in trouble. The Homeric (along with the British vessel King Alexander) tried desperately to reach the Raifuku Maru, but was unable to get close enough to rescue any crew due to the rough seas. The vessel was listing at a 30-degree angle, and sunk with all hands while the Homeric watched. The Homeric sent the following message to the Camperdown Coast Guard station: “OBSERVED STEAMER RAIFUKU MARU SINK IN LAT 4143N LONG 6139W REGRET UNABLE TO SAVE ANY LIVES.” Several vessels attempted to locate bodies or survivors from the ship in the days after the sinking, but found none.
The incident was quite controversial at the time; the Japanese government accused the English captains of racism for not saving their crewmen, though this accusation appears unfounded.

Conclusion

It is very interesting in the eyes of skeptics of the Bermuda Triangle phenomenon that such a mundane story was spun off into one of the great mysteries of the sea. It is unclear who the first author to mention the Raifuku Maru in a mysterious context was, though Vincent Gaddis’s Invisible Horizons (1965) was the first popular book to feature the story. Many other books and articles on the Triangle have repeated the story almost verbatim, though as mentioned above the date of the vessel’s sinking seemed to vary from author to author. Larry Kusche, in his Bermuda Triangle Mystery: Solved (1975), pointed out this case as being nothing more than the routine sinking of a merchant vessel, blown up (perhaps by the frantic final message of the wireless operator) into a mysterious incident with possibly supernatural overtones, its place in history being cemented by continual repetition by various credulous authors.




KC-135 Stratotankers


     On August 28, 1963, a pair of US Air Force KC-135 Stratotanker aircraft collided and crashed into the Atlantic. The Triangle version (Winer, Berlitz, Gaddis) of this story specifies that they did collide and crash, but there were two distinct crash sites, separated by over 160 miles (260 km) of water. However, Kusche's research showed that the unclassified version of the Air Force investigation report stated that the debris field defining the second "crash site" was examined by a search and rescue ship, and found to be a mass of seaweed and driftwood tangled in an old buoy.


Thursday, June 9, 2011

Star Tiger and Star Ariel



Star Tiger and Star Ariel
These Avro Tudor IV passenger aircraft disappeared without trace en route to Bermuda and Jamaica, respectively. Star Tiger was lost on January 30, 1948 on a flight from the Azores to Bermuda. Star Ariel was lost on January 17, 1949, on a flight from Bermuda to Kingston, Jamaica. Neither aircraft gave out a distress call; in fact, their last messages were routine. A possible clue to their disappearance was found in the mountains of the Andes in 1998: the Star Dust, an Avro Lancastrian airliner run by the same airline, had disappeared on a flight from Buenos Aires, Argentina, to Santiago, Chile on August 2, 1947.
The plane's remains were discovered at the melt end of a glacier, suggesting that either the crew did not pay attention to their instruments, suffered an instrument failure or did not allow for headwind effects from the jetstream on the way to Santiago when it hit a mountain peak, with the resulting avalanche burying the remains and incorporating it into the glacier. However, this is mere speculation with regard to the Star Tiger and Star Ariel, pending the recovery of the aircraft. It should be noted that the Star Tiger was flying at a height of just 2,000 feet (610 m), which would have meant that if the plane was forced down, there would have been no time to send out a distress message. It is also far too low for the jetstream or any other high-altitude wind to have any effect.

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Star Tiger 

G-AHNP Star Tiger was an Avro Tudor Mark IV passenger aircraft owned and operated by British South American Airways (BSAA) which disappeared without trace over the Atlantic Ocean while on a flight between Santa Maria in the Azores and Bermuda on 30 January 1948. The loss of the aircraft along with that of BSAA Avro Tudor Star Ariel in 1949 remain unsolved to this day, with the resulting speculation helping to develop the Bermuda Triangle legend.


Background

British South American Airways (BSAA) was an airline created by former World War II pilots in an effort to provide service on the previously untapped South American trade and passenger routes. Originally named British Latin American Air Lines (BLAIR) it was split off from the British Overseas Airways Corporation to operate their South Atlantic routes. It commenced transatlantic services in March 1946, with a BSAA plane making the first operational flight from London's Heathrow Airport. The airline operated mostly Avro aircraft: Yorks, Lancastrians and Tudors, and flew to Bermuda, the West Indies and the western coast of South America.

Flight

Star Tiger was one of three enlarged and improved versions of the Avro Tudor, designated Mark IVs. It had made eleven transatlantic flights, a total of 575 hours flying time, since its initial test flight on 4 November 1947.
On the morning of 28 January 1948, the crew and passengers boarded Star Tiger at Lisbon only to be forced to return to the airport waiting room when the pilot, Captain Brian W. McMillan, told them that the port inner engine needed some attention. The aircraft took off 2½ hours later, and made what was intended to be a 75 minute refuelling stop at Santa Maria in the Azores. However, the reported weather was so poor that Captain McMillan decided they should stop over until the next day.
The following day, 29 January, Star Tiger took off for the next leg of its flight to Bermuda despite strong winds. McMillan had decided to fly at no more than 2,000 ft (610 m) so as to avoid the worst winds. An Avro Lancastrian belonging to BSAA piloted by Frank Griffin took off an hour ahead of the Star Tiger, and Griffin had agreed to radio weather information back to Star Tiger.
Star Tiger took off at 15:34 and soon after takeoff was lashed by heavy rain and strong winds. At first some 200 miles behind the Lancastrian, McMillan slowly closed the distance between them and both aircraft remained in radio contact with each other and Bermuda.
By 01:26 on 30 January, after 10 hours in the air, Star Tiger was only 150 mi (240 km) behind the Lancastrian. The navigator of the Lancastrian managed to fix their position using celestial navigation and found that the winds had blown the aircraft 60 mi (97 km) off-track in the previous hour. By this time, Star Tiger had passed its Point of No Alternative, at which it could have diverted to Newfoundland, and was committed to remaining on course for Bermuda.
At about 02:00 Cyril Ellison, Star Tiger's navigator, fixed the aircraft's position and learned that they too had been blown off course and were crabbing away from Bermuda. He gave McMillan a new course which turned the aircraft directly into a gale. However, McMillan still expected to reach Bermuda with at least an hour's worth of fuel remaining.
At 03:00 Captain Griffin aboard the Lancastrian amended his ETA from 03:56 to 05:00, and called Star Tiger to say that he was switching to voice telephony to contact Bermuda Approach Control. Griffin later testified that he heard nothing from Star Tiger to indicate that it was in trouble and that from then until he touched down at 04:11 his own aircraft encountered no turbulence, icing, fog or electrical storms.


Loss

At 03:04 Radio Officer Robert Tuck aboard Star Tiger requested a radio bearing from Bermuda, but the signal was not strong enough to obtain an accurate reading. Tuck repeated the request eleven minutes later, and this time the Bermuda radio operator was able to obtain a bearing of 72 degrees, accurate to within 2 degrees. The Bermuda operator transmitted this information, and Tuck acknowledged receipt at 03:17. This was the last communication with the aircraft. The Bermuda operator tried to contact Star Tiger at 03:50 and receiving no reply, thought that it had gone over to direct radio contact with Bermuda Approach Control. However, Approach Control reported that this was not the case. The Bermuda radio operator tried at 04:05 to contact Star Tiger, again without success, and after trying again at 04:40 he declared a state of emergency. He had heard no distress message, and neither had anyone else, even though many receiving stations were listening on Star Tiger's frequency.


Search attempts

The USAAF personnel operating the airfield immediately organized a rescue effort that lasted for 5 days despite worsening weather. Twenty-six aircraft flew 882 hours in total and surface craft also conducted a search, but no signs of Star Tiger or her 29 passengers and crew were ever found.
A merchant ship, SS Troubador, had reported seeing a low flying aircraft with lights blinking about halfway between Bermuda and the entrance to Delaware Bay, which meant that if the aircraft was Star Tiger, then it had gone well off-course from Bermuda.


Investigation

As soon as it was learned that the Star Tiger had been lost, BSAA's remaining Avro Tudors were grounded by Britain's Minister of Civil Aviation. They were permitted to carry cargo rather than passengers a few weeks later, but had to fly from Santa Maria to Bermuda via Newfoundland, a diversion that reduced the longest overwater leg by 250 mi (400 km).
Although Avro's managing director, Sir Roy Dobson, and Don Bennett of BSAA both publicly regretted any implication that the aircraft had been faulty, the Minister decided that a judicial investigation into the cause of the incident was necessary, the first such since the loss of the airship R101 in 1930. Bennett objected so strongly to this that BSAA fired him.
Lord Macmillan was appointed to head the investigation, assisted by two assessors in the form of a Professor of Aviation from the University of London and the Chief Pilot of British European Airways.
The investigation, which was held in public at Church House, Westminster, opened on 12 April 1948 and lasted 11 days. On 21 August they presented their report to Lord Pakenham, who had succeeded Lord Nathan of Churt as Minister of Civil Aviation. The report emphasized that the crew of the Star Tiger were highly experienced, and found "want of care and attention to detail" in the flight plan, but nothing serious enough to explain the accident.
The Ministry of Civil Aviation later issued this press release:
"In closing this report it may truly be said that no more baffling problem has ever been presented for investigation. In the complete absence of any reliable evidence as to either the nature or the cause of the accident of Star Tiger the Court has not been able to do more than suggest possibilities, none of which reaches the level even of probability. Into all activities which involve the co-operation of man and machine two elements enter of a very diverse character [sic]. There is an incalculable element of the human equation dependent upon imperfectly known factors; and there is the mechanical element subject to quite different laws. A breakdown may occur in either separately or in both in conjunction. Or some external cause may overwhelm both man and machine. What happened in this case will never be known and the fate of Star Tiger must remain an unsolved mystery."
Among the passengers was Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham, a hero of World War II, formerly Air Officer Commander-in-Chief, 2nd Tactical Air Force during the Battle of Normandy. Coningham's death shared the front page of the 31 January edition of the New York Times along with the news of the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi and the death of Orville Wright.

Possible causes

If the Star Tiger's radio had failed shortly after 03:15, her captain and navigator would have been faced with the task of locating a small group of islands, measuring 22 mi (35 km) from northeast to southwest covering a total area of 20 sq mi (52 km2), and equipped with powerful lights that were visible from about 30 mi (48 km) at the aircraft's assumed altitude. It was at that time about 340 mi (550 km) from the islands with enough fuel for 3½ hours' flying time. Having received an accurate bearing, McMillan's task of making landfall was not in itself difficult, except that he was acutely aware of the fact that there was no alternative airport: the nearest point on the American mainland was Cape Hatteras, 580 mi (930 km) to the west, and well beyond the Star Tiger's range. However, there was no evidence to suggest that radio failure or navigational error were responsible for the disaster.
As for engine failure, the aircraft could easily have reached Bermuda on two engines. Its low altitude, however, would have made any handling problem more dangerous. The altitude chosen by the Star Tiger and the Lancastrian was much lower than usual and no previous BSAA flight had flown so low for so long. Wind forecasts were unreliable throughout the journey, especially at lower altitudes; consequently, a sudden strong gust could have abruptly plunged the aircraft into the sea, or inattention on the part of the crew coupled with a faulty altimeter could have allowed it to dive gently into the sea, giving the radio operator no chance to transmit a distress signal. One notable discrepancy was that although the planned cruising altitude was 2,000 feet, every position report transmitted by Star Tiger gave the height as 20,000 feet. Since 20,000 feet was a more typical cruising altitude for this route, it is possible the crew forgot they were flying at only 2,000 feet and simply flew the aircraft into the sea during the descent phase. The crew may have been fatigued after the long flight, and contemporary altimeters were prone to misreading of the thousand-foot level.
Twice before on similar flights the Star Tiger had been forced to divert to Gander, Newfoundland and just two months previously another Tudor IV had found itself landing with less than 100 imp gal (450 l; 120 US gal) of fuel left; less than the amount by which the Star Tiger was overloaded.



Aftermath

Don Bennett claimed that both the Star Tiger and Star Ariel had been sabotaged and that "a known war-registered saboteur" had been seen near the Star Tiger shortly before its last takeoff. He also claimed that Prime Minister Clement Attlee had ordered all inquiries into the incidents to be abandoned.

Occurrence summary
Date 30 January 1948
Type Unknown
Site Atlantic ocean
Passengers 25
Crew 6
Injuries 0
Fatalities 31
Survivors 0
Aircraft type Avro 688 Tudor Mark IV
Aircraft name Star Tiger
Operator BSAA
Tail number G-AHNP



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Star Ariel

G-AGRE Star Ariel was an Avro Tudor Mark IVB passenger aircraft owned and operated by British South American Airways (BSAA) which disappeared without trace over the Atlantic Ocean while on a flight between Bermuda and Kingston, Jamaica on 17 January 1949. The loss of the aircraft along with that of BSAA Avro Tudor Star Tiger in January 1948 remain unsolved to this day, with the resulting speculation helping to develop the Bermuda Triangle legend.

Background

British South American Airways (BSAA) was an airline created by former World War II pilots in an effort to provide service on the previously untapped South American trade and passenger routes. Originally named British Latin American Air Lines (BLAIR) it was split off from the British Overseas Airways Corporation to operate their South Atlantic routes. It commenced transatlantic services in March 1946, with a BSAA plane making the first operational flight from London's Heathrow Airport. The airline operated mostly Avro aircraft: Yorks, Lancastrians and Tudors, and flew to Bermuda, the West Indies and the western coast of South America.

Loss

The Star Ariel was one of three enlarged and improved versions of the Avro Tudor, designated Mark IVs. On 17 January 1949 the Star Ariel was awaiting flight instructions at Kindley Field, Bermuda, with no passengers. BSAA Tudor G-AHNK meanwhile lost an engine on approach to Bermuda, landing without incident. Star Ariel was promptly pressed into service to take G-AHNK's passengers on to their destination of Kingston, Jamaica.
Star Ariel took off at 08:41 with 7 crew and 13 passengers. Weather conditions were excellent, and her pilot, Captain John McPhee, decided on a high altitude flight to take advantage of it. About an hour into the flight McPhee contacted Kingston by radio:
"I DEPARTED FROM KINDLEY FIELD AT 8:41 A.M. HOURS. MY ETA AT KINGSTON 2:10 P.M. HOURS. I AM FLYING IN GOOD VISIBILITY AT 18,000 FT. I FLEW OVER 150 MILES SOUTH OF KINDLEY FIELD AT 9:32 HRS. MY ETA AT 30° N IS 9:37 HRS. WILL YOU ACCEPT CONTROL?"
And then at 09:42:
"I WAS OVER 30° N AT 9:37 I AM CHANGING FREQUENCY TO MRX."
No more messages were received from Star Ariel and Kingston finally reported her overdue.

Search

The search for the Star Ariel began with another Tudor IV, G-AHNJ Star Lion. She had earlier landed at Nassau, and now refueled and took off at 15:25 to fly out to Star Ariel's route, bisect it, and follow it back to Bermuda. Another aircraft took off from Bermuda, flew 500 mi (800 km), then did a 10 mi (16 km) lattice search all the way back. A US Navy task force headed by the battleship USS Missouri and including the aircraft carriers USS Kearsarge and USS Leyte assisted in the search, which expanded to dozens of ships and several planes over the next few days.
By 19 January the search had been broadened to an area of 55,000 sq mi (140,000 km2) southwest of Bermuda. USAF Major Keith Cloe, who had been put in charge, said that the search would be continued until 22 January and extended if any reports of debris were received. The search was finally abandoned on 23 January, with aircraft from Kindley Field having flown over 1,000,000 mi (1,600,000 km). No sign of debris, oil slicks, or wreckage had been found.

Investigation

A representative of the Chief Inspector of Accidents left for Bermuda on 18 January 1949.
It was revealed that there had been no bad weather, none of the weather reports indicating any abnormal conditions, and the chance of any marked clear air turbulence was almost nil. There were no clouds above 10,000 ft (3,000 m) over the whole of the aircraft's route.
However, although the weather was good, the day in question had suffered communication problems ranging from static to poor reception to complete blackouts lasting as much as 10 minutes which came and went, selectively affecting certain planes calling certain stations from different angles. The communication problem lasted almost exactly the entire time the Star Ariel would have been in flight, finally lifting around 13:07.
This was investigated, along with McPhee's switch over to Kingston frequency which was considered early, as he was still close to Bermuda at the time. It was considered possible that a distress transmission on that frequency might not have been heard, given the aircraft's distance from Kingston.
However, a BSAA representative in Kingston observed:
It would appear that the aircraft should have made firm contact with MRX before requesting permission from Bermuda to change frequency. This was obviously not done as MRX never worked G-AGRE on this frequency at all. In addition I am convinced that G-AGRE did not ever transmit on this frequency of 6523 kc/s. even if Bermuda did give authority to change frequency which they could quite readily have done. This latter opinion is based on the fact that not only was MRX in Jamaica listening out on 6523 kc/s. but so also were New York, Miami, Nassau, Havana, and Balbao and, so far as we are aware and from what definite information we have, none of these stations ever heard from G-AGRE on 6523 kc/s. Whilst it may have been possible for us not to hear G-AGRE owing to the bad reception Palisadoes [Kingston Aerodrome] was experiencing at the time of the requested QSY, it would seem most improbable for similar conditions to obtain with all those other stations listening out on that frequency.

Conclusions

On 21 December 1949 the report of the inquiry was issued by the Chief Inspector of Accidents, Air Commodore Vernon Brown. In it he stated that "through lack of evidence due to no wreckage having been found, the cause of the accident is unknown."
Brown said that there was no evidence of defect in, or failure of, any part of the aircraft before its departure from Bermuda. The all-up weight and the centre of gravity were within the prescribed limits; a daily inspection had been carried out; the pilot was experienced on the route; the radio officer was very experienced and also experienced on the route; good radio communications had been maintained with the aircraft up to and including reception of its last message; there were no weather complications, and a study of the weather reports have no reason to believe that the accident was caused by meteorological conditions. There was also no evidence of sabotage, though Brown said that the possibility of such could not be entirely eliminated.
It was accepted that radio communications were poor during the early afternoon and worsened between 16:00 and 17:00, but Brown said it seemed strange that no attempt was made by BSAA staff at Kingston to find out whether anything had been heard of the aircraft until 2 hours 28 minutes after its last radio transmission. Kingston also did not attempt to establish contact with the aircraft until 17:10 or inquire as to whether it had made contact with Nassau or New York or any other radio station.
  


Aftermath

As a result of the loss, BSAA withdrew all five of their remaining Tudor IVs from service until each had been examined. The company faced problems in maintaining its services, since it was difficult to find aircraft of sufficient range, and considered chartering Avro Lancastrians.
Don Bennett, who had been fired by BSAA in 1948 when he objected to a judicial investigation into the loss of the Star Tiger, later claimed that both the Star Tiger and Star Ariel had been sabotaged and that "a known war-registered saboteur" had been seen near the Star Tiger shortly before its last takeoff. He also claimed that Prime Minister Clement Attlee had ordered all enquiries into the incidents to be abandoned.
The Tudor IV aircraft were converted to freight use, but Bennett had two restored to passenger use, and one of these, G-AKBY, crashed near Cardiff in March 1950 with the loss of 80 lives, at that time the worst air accident in Britain. An enquiry found incorrect loading to be the cause.


Occurrence summary
Date 17 January 1949
Type Disappearance
Site Atlantic ocean
Passengers 13
Crew 7
Aircraft type Avro Tudor Mark IVB
Aircraft name Star Ariel
Operator BSAA
Tail number G-AGRE

 __________________________________________________________________________________

Douglas DC-3


The disappearance of the Douglas DC-3 airliner NC16002 occurred on the night of December 28, 1948 near the end of a scheduled flight from San Juan, Puerto Rico to Miami, Florida (around 1,030 mi (1,660 km)). The aircraft carried 29 passengers and three crew members. No probable cause for the loss was determined by the official investigation and it remains unsolved.


Final flight

Captained by pilot Robert Linquist, assisted by co-pilot Ernest Hill and stewardess Mary Burkes, the aircraft ended its Miami-San Juan leg at 19:40 EST on 27 December. Linquist informed local repair crewmen that a landing gear warning light was not functioning and that the aircraft batteries were discharged and low on water. Unwilling to delay the aircraft's scheduled takeoff for Miami for several hours, Linquist said the batteries would be recharged by the aircraft’s generators en route.
Linquist taxied NC16002 to the end of runway 27 for takeoff, but stopped at the end of the tarmac due to lack of two-way radio communication. Though capable of receiving, Linquist reported to the head of Puerto Rican Transport, who had driven out to the aircraft, that the radio could not transmit because of the low batteries. After agreeing to stay close to San Juan until they were recharged enough to allow two-way contact, NC16002 finally lifted off at 22:03. After circling the city for 11 minutes, Linquist received confirmation from CAA at San Juan and told the tower that they were proceeding to Miami on a previous flight plan.
The weather was fine with high visibility, but the aircraft did not respond to subsequent calls from San Juan. At 23:23, the Overseas Foreign Air Route Traffic Control Center at Miami heard a routine transmission from NC16002, wherein Linquist reported they were at 8,300 ft (2,500 m) and had an ETA of 04:03. His message placed the flight about 700 mi (1,100 km) from Miami. Transmissions were heard sporadically throughout the night by Miami, but all were routine.
At 03:40, Linquist reported he was 50 mi (80 km) south of Miami. The transmission was not heard at Miami but was monitored at New Orleans, Louisiana, some 600 mi (970 km) away, and was relayed to Miami. The accident investigation report issued by the Civil Aeronautics Board said the pilot may have incorrectly reported his position.
Miami weather was clear but the wind had moved from northwest to northeast. The accident investigation report said Miami transmitted the wind change information but neither Miami nor New Orleans "was able to contact the flight" so it is unknown whether NC16002 received it. Without this knowledge the aircraft could have drifted 40–50 mi (64–80 km) off course, which widened the search area to include hills in Cuba, the Everglades and even Gulf Of Mexico waters.
Nothing further was heard from Linquist and the aircraft has never been found. In subsequent years, researchers into unexplained disappearances have included the flight among others said to have disappeared in what came to be termed the Bermuda Triangle.


Investigation

In a report released July 15, 1949, the board convening the investigation filed several factors about the aircraft:
  • The aircraft originally built on June 12, 1936, and had a total of 28,257 flying hours prior to the landing in San Juan. It was inspected several times in the past two years and certified to be airworthy.
  • The aircraft was given a partial overhaul, including the replacement of both engines in November 1948. An in-flight test was conducted to judge the results of the overhaul, including flying to New Jersey and back. Again, the aircraft was certified to be airworthy.
  • The company's maintenance records were incomplete. In one case a subcontractor working on an engine in October 1948 completed the task but did not save any records proving it.
As far as human error, the report cited several occurrences:
  • Captain Linquist told San Juan that his landing gear down indicator lamps did not work. This led to the discovery that his batteries were low on water and electrical charge. While he ordered the refilling of the batteries with water, he ordered the reinstallation of the batteries onboard the aircraft without recharging them.
  • The aircraft left with the batteries charged only enough to satisfy two-way radio communication with the tower, with the understanding an in-flight flight plan would be filed before they left the vicinity of San Juan. This was not done, and the plane continued on a course for Miami. It was noted in the report that the plane's radio transmitter did not function properly due to the low battery charge.
  • The aircraft left San Juan with a cargo/passenger weight 118 lb (54 kg) over the allowable limit.
  • A message was sent to the plane concerning a change in wind direction which could have been strong enough to push the plane off course. It was not known if the plane received the message.
  • The plane's electrical system was not functioning normally prior to departing San Juan.
Because of the lack of the plane's wreckage and other sufficient information, probable cause for the loss of the aircraft could not be determined.



Occurrence summary
Date              December 28, 1948
Type Unexplained disappearance
Site Off the eastern coast of Florida
Passengers 29
Crew 3
Injuries 0
Fatalities 32 (missing)
Survivors 0
Aircraft type Douglas DC-3DST-144
Operator Airborne Transport
Tail number NC16002
Flight origin San Juan, Puerto Rico
Destination Miami, Florida


Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Carroll A. Deering

AS STRANGE AS THE “MARY CELESTE,” AND ONE OF THE MOST ACTED UPON MYSTERIES OF the sea, is the case of the deserted five-masted schooner Carroll A. Deering. Returning to Maine from Rio de Jenairo,  the Deering stopped over at Barbados on January 9, 1921. She was next to be seen off the North Carolina coast by the Cape Lookout Lightship on January 29 at 4:30 p.m.. On the morning of January 31, the  Carroll A. Deering was found hard aground on Diamond Shoals, North Carolina. The ship was in a strange state of desertion; the eleven crew had vanished.

The launching of the Carroll A. Deering at Bathe, Maine in 1919. Courtesy of the descendants of Carroll A. Deering

The Carroll A. Deering was built in Bathe, Maine, in 1919 by the G.G. Deering company. She was a huge five-masted schooner designed for cargo service, and was christened after G.G. Deering's son, Carroll.  

As with many great mysteries, her last voyage started with several twists of fate that might have contributed to the mysterious fate of her crew.

In August 1920 the ship was preparing to set sail from Norfolk, Virginia, with a cargo of coal bound for Rio De Jenairo.  The captain was William M. Merritt. He signed on his son, S.E. Merritt, as first mate. The rest of the crew were soon hired for the trek and signed their names on the articles as Merritt wrote down a complete description. S.E. Merritt was first, his birthplace was: “Maine. Age 29, Height 5.10; Complexion: Med; Hair: Brown.” His wages per month were to be 215$, a hundred of which was to go to his mother. 

Next to scribble their names down were: Johan Fredrickson of Finland, age: 48, height: 5.6; complexion: ruddy; hair, same; $135 per month. A barely legible hand next signed his name J.A. Benjamin of the French West Indies: Age 51; Height 5.9; description: blond; $150 per month. Next: Herbert R. Bates, also of Maine, age 33, height 5.7; complexion: Fair; hair: Light; $150 per month.

Next was the first Dane to sign on board the Deering: N.P. Nielson. All the rest of the crew were from Denmark. Nielson was 24, at 5.5, Fair and Brown. He would receive, as all the Danes would, $100 per month. Niels Olsen: 30, 5.10, Fair, Brown. S. Christian Pedersen: 26, 5.5, Dark, Brown. Peter Sorensen: 19, 5.5, Fair, Brown. Alfred Jorgensen: 24, 5.2, Light, Light. Hans Carl Jensen: 18, 5.9, Light, Light. 

The crew had just enough time to get off any letters to their families before they left for the remainder of the year on the long sea voyage. Peter Sorensen wrote his family in Denmark:

                             Newport News, August 22, 1921.
   Dear All          
             I will just write a few words to let you know that I am all right and
         that I went ashore from Negros and was signed on an American schooner
         bound for Rio de Jenairo with bunkers, and I suppose it will take about
         a month before we return to Newport News; then I shall send home some
         money and I hope the rate of  exchange will be as favorable as now when we
         come back. I make 100 dollars a month as sailor, which in Danish money will
         amount to as much as Kr. 680. I know of nothing else to write this time so
         will close.
                 Many greetings, son and brother
                                 P. Sorensen
P.S. Write soon
5 M. Sehr
Adr. Carol B. Dering.*
Rio de Jenairo.                        Brasil.



Displaying the Carroll A. Deering burgee in April 1940.  The actual Carroll A. Deering, the son of Gardner Deering and namesake of the vessel, stands at left. Courtesy of the descendants of Carroll A. Deering.


  The Carroll A. Deering then set sail and departed Norfolk in late August. In a bad twist of fate, Captain Merritt was taken suddenly ill and the Deering had to put in at Lewes, Delaware. The sickness was worse than thought, much worse in fact. Merritt could not longer continue with the voyage and left ship. Naturally, S.E. Merritt also left to dutifully attend to his father, leaving the Deering without master and mate.

Deering, in later life. Courtesy of the descendants of Carroll A. Deering



The G.G. Deering company rushed to get a new captain. His name was Willis B. Wormell, a very distinctive looking man of age 66. At 6.1 and 198 pounds he was bigger than any of his crew; he was born in Lubec, Maine, on September 16, 1854. His hair was light “. . .with a prominent streak of gray, slightly wavy.” His eyes were blue. He had a light mustache. His forehead was described as “strong and high,” his teeth  “. . . somewhat yellow from tobacco; one tooth noticeable for a large gold filling   . . . Large frame, well filled out. Round shoulders, one shoulder especially rounded.” He also had a ridge on his thumb nail. He was considered a religious man and a very reliable captain that adhered to the old standards of the sea.

He also had one peculiarity which was especially noticeable when slightly nervous or intently watching his men “. . . if they were doing something that did not seem to him quite up to standard.” He would hold his hands at his side, with the palms facing down at the deck and would repeatedly openand shut his hands. He would sometimes do this with his hands “. . .partly behind him. The first shut is rather deliberate, and the successions are quick and closely following one another.” 

Beautiful shot of the Deering at anchor. Courtesy of the descendants of Carroll A. Deering

Since the first mate had also left, this entailed a search for a replacement. Wormell hired-on a Charles B. McLellan.
     Finally on September 8, the Deering was underway for Rio. Her voyage south apparently went well and she docked at Rio de Jenairo,  where the cargo was unloaded and the men had a liberty.
   Here it is reported that Wormell met an old friend, captain Goodwin. Now we get the first hint of problems aboard the ship. Wormell confided in him that his first mate was worthless and a trouble maker. Fortunately, Herbert Bates, his engineer, was quite reliable. Goodwin agreed, as he knew of Bates. The two parted company, Goodwin wishing his old friend well.

On December 2, 1920, the Carroll A. Deering set sail bound home to Portland, Maine. Trouble apparently began to rise on the way back, and when they docked at Barbados for liberty and supplies,  McLellan proved Wormell right by getting drunk and being locked up. However, Wormell was able to get him out of jail in time to sail. Nevertheless, over some unknown argument, the
ingrate McLellan threatened Wormell's life before they left. They sailed for home on January 9, 1921, with this kind of atmosphere hanging over the ship.


When the schooner was next sighted she was off Cape Lookout Lightship, North Carolina. The date: January 29. The lightship keeper, captain Thomas Jacobson, was hailed by voice by a crewman on the Deering.  Jacobson recalled that he was standing on the quarterdeck. He remembered this so clearly because it was so unusual,  for all the crew were congregated there. Jacobson's description of this particular man later became crucial. He reported that the man shouting at him did not speak, act, nor look like an officer. He was tall, thin, and had reddish hair. This crewman shouted to Jacobson that the Deering had lost her anchors while riding out the gale south at Cape Fear,  please tell the Deering company. This said,  the schooner continued on its way and glided out of sight along the coast.

Add caption


Possibly the last photo of Carroll A. Deering, taken as she passed another vessel, perhaps the lightship, only a couple of days before she turned up abondoned. Notice the anchor is missing. Courtesy of the descendants of Carroll A. Deering



  Because the Lightship's radio was out, Jacobson attempted to contact a steamer that passed shortly afterward. As it passed, he blew the whistle of the Lightship which requires a vessel to respond. The vessel, however, which either had no name or the name covered with a tarp,  ignored the horn and continued on its way.

Shrouded in mystery,  at 8:30 a.m. on January 31, the Carroll A. Deering was hard aground on outer Diamond Shoals near Cape Hatteras,  unapproachable due to heavy coastal breakers.  All sails were set; the life boat cables hung at her sides. 

The Coast Guard was quickly notified by the Lighthouse Service. A telegram dated January, 31:
SEND TO  Keeper Coast Guard Station #183
   Five mast schooner southwest point outer Diamond,   looks as if she go ashore.                                                HARRIS,   MASTER
     February 1, the Coast Guard Cutter Seminole arrived,  but due to the pounding surf could not board the vessel. She, too, quickly requested information:
SEND TO Government
February 1, 1921— 10:31
   Request name stranded schooner and whereabouts of crew if known                                                        SEMINOLE
SEND TO Seminole
       Schooner name unknown whereabouts of crew unknown.                                                      Diamond Shoals Lightship
   On February 4, another Coast Guard cutter,  the Manning,  arrived with the tug Rescue. The Deering was finally boarded at 10:30 a.m. by the wrecking crew, which stayed aboard until 4:30 p.m.. On board they found the vessel shipshape, but strangely deserted and quiet except for the usual creaks. Curiously, all articles belonging to the officers and crew were missing. The ship's papers, chronometer, log, and all navigating instruments including the ship's clock were also gone. In the galley they found certain foods soaking in preparation for the next day's meal. The captain's room was also in an interesting condition. It appeared by three different sets of boots that three men had actually shared the cabin before the end. The spare bed was also slept in. The large map, recording the ship's movements, had been marked since the 23rd of January in another hand then Wormell's distinctive handwriting. And as the crew had informed the Lightship, the wreckers noticed that the Deering had lost her anchors. Make-shift anchors, however, had been found in their place. Red lights had been run up the mast,  an indication she was derelict or out of control.
   It didn’t take long for the wrecking crew to determine that the vessel could not be salvaged, and they left the vessel to be pounded into the sea. But before the sea was given its chance,  the Manning attempted to tow the Deering from her place, but due to the rough waters had to cut the towline and destroy the ship by mines. Thus the Carroll A. Deering and her clues perished on March 4, 1921.
   The condition of the Carroll A. Deering required an explanation,  and the investigation that followed was undertaken by 5 separate departments of the U.S. government. And the Secretary of Commerce, Herbert Hoover, took a special interest in the case when it was discovered that no less than nine ships of different nationality and varied courses had disappeared around the same time and in the same area: the sulphur transport s.s. Hewitt with a crew of 42 and captain Hans Jacob Hansen disappeared on a course from Sabine,  Texas, to Portland, Maine,  following a coastline route. Her course and speed put her remarkably close to the Deering. She was last heard from on January 25. She would remain interwoven with the Deering throughout the entire investigation. There were many more: the steamships Monte San Micelle of Italy and Esperanza de Larrinaga of Spain were heading out across the Atlantic to Europe; the tanker Ottawa sailed from Norfolk for Manchester, England, on February 2, with 3,600 tons of reduced Mexican fuel oil; thirty-three crew disappeared with captain Williams. Cargo ship Steinsund; the Italian cargo ship Florino; the Norwegian cargo ship Svartskog; the Danish bark Albyn; and the steamship Yute all vanished in late January or early February. The last heard from any of the vessels was from the Ottawa which was in speaking with the Dorington Court on February 6, 1921.
     The man placed in charge of the investigation was Lawrence Richey,  assistant to Herbert Hoover. All information that eventually came into official hands concerning the derelict was directed to him.
   Richey was particularly interested in the log books of Cape Lookout Lightship and Diamond Shoals Lightship so a definite period of time could be plotted for Deering's movements. The Cape Lookout Light vessel's log was of particular interest as it gave a specific date for spotting the Deering. Captain Thomas Jacobson was also the last witness to see the crew alive. The Log of the Lightship recording in Jacobson's own words the sighting of the schooner:

  4:30 PM. 4 mast schooner Carroll A. Deering, in passing bound North,  reported  having lost both anchors and chains off Frying Pan Shoal, asking to be reported,  but ship's wireless out of commission. Was unable to get in touch with passing vessels.
     One of these vessels to which Jacobson alluded became a center for speculation when he later said that it was a steamship and its name could not be discerned and that it failed to notice or respond to the Lightship's whistle, which can be heard for 5 miles.
   It has been suggested in several theories that perhaps the “nameless ship” was a rum-runner coming in to drop liquor along the coast and did not wish,  for obvious reasons, to recognize the Lightship's attempt to hail her, or more importantly to be recognized herself. Developing this mystery vessel's role even further, it is wondered if this vessel was not in fact, for some illegal reason, responsible for the dereliction of the Deering,  or at least picked up her crew and were forced to kill them to keep their racket of landing illegal liquor inviolable.
   It was also proposed that this unidentified steamship was in fact the Hewitt,  and she simply failed to notice the whistle of the Lightship. The log does state “vessels,”  and the Hewitt may simply have been the only vessel whose name was undiscernible.  A sidelight to this proposal is that Jacobson never reported seeing the Hewitt pass his Lightship.
     Reports of piracy quickly found there was into the press as the only excuse to cause all these disappearances: “VANISHED FLEET MYSTERY EVER, OFFICIALS FEAR,” read the New York Times for June 23, 1921. The commissioner of Navigation was quoted as saying: “I have heard many tall yarns of the sea but in this case the facts are there. The Carroll A. Deering and the Hewitt met some strange fate beyond that of ordinary vessels come to grief.” The English Admiralty wouldn't “flatly” say it was piracy but leaned toward the view.
   Russians became the predominant persons to blame for the missing fleet of ships. It was believed that Red sympathizers had captured the ships and taken them to Russia. It was noted, in a frenzy of debate,  that some of the cargos of the vessels were materials that the Russians could not buy under the embargo on the new Red regime. Rumors were circulated to the effect that vessels which had their names blacked-out were seen at Russian ports.
   But the culprit may also have been a random group of pirates linked to no particular country. According to one popular theory,  the vessel responsible for the piratical attacks might be a submarine that could put into secret ports to replenish its supplies.
   The story of pirates was really started on April 11, 1921, when a man named Christopher Columbus Gray discovered a note in a bottle off North Carolina at Buxton Beach, and reported it to the authorities. The note in the bottle read:
   DEERING CAPTURED BY OIL BURNING BOAT SOMETHING LIKE CHASER. TAKING OFF EVERYTHING HANDCUFFING CREW. CREW HIDING ALL OVER SHIP NO CHANCE TO MAKE ESCAPE. FINDER PLEASE NOTIFY HEADQUARTERS DEERING.
   Herbert Hoover ordered the examining of the cargo lists of the vessels that vanished in order to find the reason for their capture by this modern day “captain Kidd” in his oil burning boat. The Russian angle was to be maintained,  however,  as the FBI, in raiding the headquarters of the United Russian Workers in New York, allegedly came across papers detailing orders to captured American ships and take them to Russia.  The United States Navy was still ordered to look for the crews of the ships until as late as July. The Navy Department was said to lean to the belief that they were not sunk but detained in some secret port.

Riding high at anchor. Courtesy of the descendants of Carroll A. Deering


Whoever had caused these ten ships to disappear, the solution lay between Bolsheviks, Prohibition boozerunners, or a modern day captain Kidd in a sub. There was no easy explanation proposed for only one reason: the Carroll A. Deering. The absence of the crew of a sound and stable ship anchored all the missing vessels together as being of an unusual cause.
   Lula Wormell, the daughter of Willis Wormell, was undertaking an investigation of her own with the aid of the local minister, Rev. Dr. Addison B. Lorimer. Lula Wormell had obtained a  copy of the scribbled note that Gray had discovered at Buxton Beach in April and had some
handwriting experts examine it. This showed that the handwriting on the note did indeed closely match that of Herbert Bates, the Deering's engineer, from examples of his handwriting she obtained from Bates' wife. It might not be considered so coincidental that this was the man that Wormell thought was very reliable. To her the note had to be genuine. Thus a search for the oil burning boat and the culprits responsible was of the highest order to try and locate the crew of the Deering and the other ships. The man who would champion this view was Dr. Lorimer.
   The possibility of pirates was fueled by the genial Reverend on trips to Washington where he inquired of the case, made contacts, and advanced Lula's beliefs in the note's authenticity. The Coast Guard had also sent the bottle in which the note was found to Miss Wormell who, through Lorimer, now offered it to Richey if he wanted it for the investigations. This bottle was traced to a type made in no other place than Rio de Jenairo. The note in the bottle now looked doubly real in light of the circumstantial evidence. It was really quite widely believed that some pirate vessel had kidnapped the crew and taken them aboard a mysterious “oil burning” boat.
     Most other letters Richey received were of little aid. And what was worse they were mixed in with communiques from foreign governments pestering him for information concerning their vessels that had vanished. The Italian Embassy was particularly curious and repeatedly wanted to know if the American investigation has provided an answer to the loss of their vessel, Monte San Michelle.  The updates for information met with the same answer: “The inquiry above mentioned has not been concluded and as yet no very definite results have been obtained.”
   Richey was still trying to figure out the case. But by September, 1921,  when the last Italian inquiry was dated, there was little mystery in the minds of American investigators surrounding Monte San Michelle or most of the other vessels.
   It was discovered in July that the Atlantic was experiencing the worst hurricane in 22 years last February, and the majority of the vessels that disappeared were heading out into the Atlantic into its clutches. The idea of a mass pirate attack quickly began to fade away. The only mystery to remain was the Deering and Hewitt which were the ones traveling coastal routes, away from the hurricane. The other ships thus removed from the calculations, the idea that the Deering was just one cog in the plan of a pirate attack or Bolshevik conspiracy also faded away. More and more she looked like an isolated incident. This meant one thing: Mutiny.
   The major obstacle remaining for the theory of mutiny was that note Christopher Columbus Gray found describing an oil burning boat kidnapping the crew. But not for long. On August 26, the world was told that the note Christopher Columbus Gray found at Buxton Beach was indeed a fake. Without knowing it, Gray confessed to writing the note himself. He told this to none other than an undercover operative. And when the investigators came to Buxton Beach,  for the coup de grace,  Gray took off like a rabbit to avoid arrest.
   Gray's eventual capture was a stroke of luck and ingenuity on Richey's part, and he didn't mind crowing about it either. Earlier that year, after Gray had found the note, he had applied for a job at the Lighthouse Keeper's Station, hoping that his discovery would help get him the job. Through “acquaintances” Richey had a message leaked to Gray that he should come to the Lighthouse Keeper's Station concerning his job application. Gray came, thinking it was only about his application, but was greeted by Federal agents who took him into custody. The full details then came out why Gray had faked the message; he hoped it would get him a job!
     When it was all over, Richey made the comment that the entire investigation into the case of the Deering was much like a detective story. Richey received the kudos, and publicly the Deering case was more or less over. The exposure of the false mystery around the other vessels,  and then Gray's exposure rubbed off on the 8 month old incident and the Deering,  if she was still spoken about publicly, was linked in some way with the others vessels lost by storm, and her crew perished in the breakers in their life boat.
   However, the detective story was not over. Storm buried the pirate stories and Gray's exposure destroyed the “captain Kidd” in a sub story.  This left only mutiny for the Deering. This is the lead that Richey would follow. But then this idea was something he had suspected for quite sometime.
     There is documentation that conclusively proves that the U.S. government did not believe the carefully constructed view of the Deering and Hewitt's fate to be as the other ships lost in the storm, nor believe the encouraged notion that the men simply perished in the tide after abandoning ship because of its lost anchors. Long before Gray was exposed, the government was geared to accept mutiny. Consular and Government offices were instructed to be on the lookout for any man answering the descriptions of sailors from the Deering or Hewitt. These Consular offices were still searching diligently for any seaman as late as 1923, long after the public controversy was put to an end. These instructions were maintained in confidential files at American embassies and also included a complete description and name of every sailor on both vessels.
   The confidential circular of the Department of State issued on June 4th and 17th, 1921, File No. 1115 C 22 regarding the crews of the Deering and Hewitt:



        DEPARTMENT OF STATE                                                 
     Washington, June 17, 1921  CONFIDENTIAL.                                                        DISAPPEARANCE OF THE CREW OF THE CARROLL A. DEERING
To the American Consular Officers at Seaports. Gentlemen:
       Referring to the Department's confidential instruction of June 4, 1921,  reporting the loss of the American schooner CAROLL A. DEERING under circumstances which are at least suspicious, you are informed that the American steamship HEWITT, carrying a cargo of 8,000 tons of sulphur from Sabine,  Texas, to Boston, Massachusetts, and Portland, Maine, disappeared on or about the same date and in about the same locality. There is nothing to connect the two casualties,  except the similarity of date and place of occurrence. However,   the Department is desirous of obtaining any information possible regarding the  present whereabouts of any member of the crew of either vessel in order to determine whether or not there has been foul play.
         With this in mind, a description of the master of the CAROLL A. DEERING and a list of the crew of both vessels is appended. The description of the master of the     CAROLL A. DEERING was furnished by his relative, and the list and  descriptions of the crew of the HEWITT and CAROLL A. DEERING were taken  from the Shipping Articles.
         You are instructed to place this list among the names of suspected aliens and  to  check all crew lists of vessels presented to you against it before visaing them.     However, if you suspect that any member of either crew is aboard any vessel, the crew list of which is presented for visa, you will refuse to visa it, but will notify the Department by telegraph of the presence aboard the vessel of the suspect in order that steps may be taken to make a complete investigation upon the vessel's arrival in the United States.
           I am, Gentlemen,
                     Your obedient servant,
                           For the Secretary of State:
                                       WILBUR J. CARR
 
A flurry of communications started followed circles when a sailor was suspected:                                                            
AMERICAN CONSULATE GENERAL LISBON, PORTUGAL
July 28, 1921
Subject: Mysterious Disappearance of American Vessels.
The Honorable The Secretary  of State
Washington
   Sir:
     I have the honor to report to the Department that an individual bearing the name of Augusto Frederico Martins and presenting a Portuguese passport issued in Glasgow, Scotland, on May 5th, 1921, a copy of which is attached hereto, appeared in this Consulate General yesterday asking to be signed on the articles of the American S.S. “WEST MAXIMUS” bound for Rio de Jenairo, Brazil. Although this man had the appearance and bearing of an experienced A.B. Seaman, he willingly accepted the position of second cook as Captain Jamison was not in need of other services. An A. Martins is mentioned in the crew list of the American S.S. “HEWITT,” which was furnished this office in connection with the department's Confidential Circular of June 17, 1921, and in the description given rather closely resembles Augusto Frederico Martins. The latter was therefore questioned concerning his movements as closely as possible without arousing  his suspicions. He admitted having recently been in Brazil and Argentina but when asked how he arrived in Glasgow he became very noncommittal and rather contradictory in his statements, finally saying he had been left there by a Portuguese vessel from Oporto, although he appeared to have no papers to substantiate this statement.
       A cable setting forth these facts was sent to the Department yesterday evening, as it would seem possible that this man may have been a member of the lost S.S.          “HEWITT.”
     In this connection, the attention of the Department is respectfully called to the following coincidences:  (a) The U.S. Navy Collier
“CYCLOPS,” which mysteriously disappeared some years ago, was on a voyage from Rio de Jenairo to the United States, as was the American Schooner “CAROLL A. DEERING” [sic], from which all its personnel mysteriously disappeared.  (b) The S.S. “WEST MAXIMUS” on which the A. Martins has shipped, has cleared from Lisbon for Rio de Jenairo.
       I have the honor to be, Sir,
                 Your obedient servant,
                                         W. STANLEY HOLLIS


    Consul General
P.S. A copy of this despatch is being sent to the American Consul General  at Rio de Jenairo. Another copy is being sent to the American Consul at Glasgow with a suggestion that he  endeavor  to obtain from the Portuguese Consul at that place, as well as from the available sources regarding this A. Martins and to report the result of his investigations directly to the Department.
   The American consul at Glasgow, G.E. Chamberlain, was immediately notified and investigated the claims of A. Martins, and responded on August 3, 1921 that A. Martins had been a member of the crew of the Portuguese ship “Portugal” since July of 1920 and it was positively established that he was in Glasgow at the time of the incident. All that for nothing!
     The circular of June 4 also brought about results in the American Consulate in Rotterdam. On January 31, 1922, the State Department was informed that the Danish steamship Frederiksborg sailed for Hampton Roads on January 28 and had on board two Danish seaman, Niels Peter Nielson and Peter Sorensen. They not only shared the same names, but “are identical in every manner to the men with the same names on the schooner CARROLL A. DEERING. . .” The only difference was that Sorensen was listed as 29 not 19.
   The FBI was notified and was standing by at Hampton Roads to question the sailors before they could leave the ship. Agent H.S. White contacted the Maritime Exchange in Norfolk to ascertain the position of the Frederiksborg but discovered, to his surprise, that the Frederiksborg had not left Rotterdam yet, but was still listed as in that port. It appeared that the Consul had mis-named the ship that departed thinking it was the Frederiksborg. The case,  since it was outside of American jurisdiction,  was considered closed by White. The Niels Nielson and Peter Sorensen, whoever they were, were headed to some other distant port on a different ship, thus being spared interrogation.
     During the period of this investigation it was suggested and quickly quashed that the information that two men suspected in the Deering case were heading for the U.S. should be released. A communique dated February 3, 1922, probably from Richey, states the official reaction clearly: “I think it is extremely important that this information be not given out, at least until after the arrival of the vessels and the examination of the members of the crew who are suspected. I believe that it would be inadvisable to give the information out even after the arrival of the vessels, because it would indicate the method by which the Department is endeavoring to find trace of any members of the crews of the lost vessels who may be alive, and, if there is any reason why the seamen would desire to keep their identity a secret, it could be done by avoiding vessels coming to the United States.”
     The other vessel the communique was referring to was the S.S. Tranquebar,  a Danish ship which arrived at Galveston, Texas, on January 4, 1922. The FBI was ready to meet the ship and question two men aboard by the names H.C. Jensen and Peter Nielson who matched the names and description of the two sailors on the Deering. The FBI had been informed five days earlier by an alert Consul at Vera Cruz who sent the following despatch dated December 31, 1921:
       Referring to the Department's circular instruction dated June 17th relative to the schooner CAROLL A. DEERING, I have to report that the Danish vessel    TRANQUEBAR cleared for Galveston on December 31st. The alien crewlist of this    vessel contains the names of H.C. Jensen, No. 14, and Peter Nielsen, No. 24, who   answer the descriptions. . .”
   Agent A.G. Sullivan inspected the crew list of the vessel as soon as she docked at 9 a.m. January 4, at pier 38. Then the two men were discreetly taken with Sullivan to the office of Hans Guldman, the Danish Consul, in room 425 of the Security Building, Galveston, where, according to Sullivan,  they cooperated “very cordially.” Sullivan reported: “The subject H.C. Jensen speaks English quite well, but the subject Nielsen does not speak English at all.” However, through the cooperation of Mr. Guldman the following stories were brought out.
     Jensen claimed the only time he had been near Hatteras was on the bark Elizabeth in 1919 sailing from Copenhagen to Hampton Roads, Virginia. He had stated that at the time of the incident he was a sailor on a small boat, the Pioneer traveling from Copenhagen to Banthelmer. In Nielsen's case, he said he was arrested in Odense, Denmark, on January 1st, 1921, for “intoxication,” and after he was released he worked on the docks. Nielsen claimed never even to have heard of the Carroll A. Deering.
     Naturally, the two men's statements had to be taken at face value since there was no immediate way to determine their validity. They were released and sent back to the Tranquebar. But Mr. Guldman told the captain to deny them the usual liberties and shore leave until their stories could be verified. Mr. Guldman was very cooperative in the matter, referred to as a real “gentlemen” by agent Sullivan and also was a naturalized American citizen. Guldman also told Sullivan he would keep the Department posted on the ship's next port of call. However, between the 14th and 19th of January, the Tranquebar sailed out of the port for her next destination. The information was never forthcoming from Denmark to confirm their stories and do not exist in any documentation. If any information was ever turned up that did prove the men lied about their positions at the time in question, it came too late and this Jensen and Nielsen could never be linked or not linked with the Carroll A. Deering sailors of the same name. The Nielsen and Jensen of the Tranquebar faded from the story as hazily as they entered it. Probably more the grateful.
     For another sailor connected with the incident it would not be the same. The following telegram was sent July 14th, 1921, to the Secretary of State from the Consul at Constantinople, Turkey:
   July 14th, 10am.
       B.O. Raney, second assistant engineer United States Shipping Board vessel    MOPANG sunk in Black Sea, is proceeding to New York on Greek steamer MEGALI HELLAS.
         We suspect his being identical with B.O. Rainey, third assistant engineer steamship HEWITT. Department's confidential instructions June 8. Have warned Athens and Patras. Details by Mail.
                                 RAVNDAL
     Before he contacted the State Department, Gabriel Ravndal had taken the necessary precautions to insure that Raney would in fact make it to New York and come under American jurisdiction. He sent the following information to the American Consul at Athens before the above despatch:
       July 11; 8 P.M.   The following message should be treated as confidential and    urgent. The crew of the S/S  MOPANG which was sunk in the Black Sea, is due to   transship at Piraeus from the S/S POLICOS to the S/S MEGALI HELLAS. Among this crew is the Second Assistant Engineer Raney whose complicity in the loss of several American vessels is suspected by this Consulate General. Please refer to the June  4th and 17th confidential instructions of the Department. Kramer, the first mate,  holds a collective passport for the shipwrecked crew. Without arousing suspicion please be sure that Raney gets off on the MEGALI HELLAS for New York and cable the Department and Consuls at ports of call. An arrangement should also be made with the  Captain of the MEGALI HELLAS to keep the suspected engineer under an informal guard until he can be delivered to the American authorities. A telegraphic acknowledgement is requested.
                                         RAVNDAL
   Well, the more specific information Ravndal referred to in his July 14th was dated July 20th. Besides the above information, Ravndal had discovered that when the 33 members of the Mopang arrived at Constantinople on July 6th to be repatriated to the United States, one quickly stood out when he inquired “about the possibilities” of enlisting in the Allied Police Corps at Constantinople. This was Raney. He did not give a reason for this, but did state in regard to his query that he did not wish to return to the United States. Instead, Raney later requested a passport to travel in Europe, but because of his lack of proof of American citizenship, the request was denied and he was told to ship to the U.S. with the other destitute crew for repatriation. It was when armed with this information that the Consul at Athens and captain of the Megali Hellas made sure their interesting passenger was sent safely to America for questioning in a condition not to arouse his suspicion lest he jump ship at a convenient port or disappear before the ship sailed for America from Piraeus.    


  A picture of Raney was sent ahead with his thumb print. Raney was a medium height, a cocky and confident young man by his picture, with his cap tilted to one side and a hand on his hip waiting for it to all be over but enjoying the attention.
   Neither Consul Ravndal nor the American Consul at Athens were overreacting to the situation. When Raney finally arrived at New York, he was questioned concerning the entire incident, and if he was, in fact, B.O. Rainey, listed as signing on the Hewitt on her last voyage. He was! There was no mistake in this case. This time the FBI finally had the real article! . . . He did, however, have an excuse for being alive. He did not sail out on her, he told them; he had left the Hewitt twenty minutes before she sailed . . . so he said anyway.
     On August 18, 1921,  the State Department finally acknowledged Ravndal's communication of the 20th of July in which he gave the specific information about Raney. Wilbur J. Carr responded: “The Department appreciates the prompt manner in which you handled this matter and through your efforts the Department of Justice was able to examine Mr. Raney upon his arrival in the United States. However, it has been ascertained that Mr. Raney left the HEWITT about twenty minutes before its clearance from
the port of Sabine and was, therefore, unable to furnish any information regarding the loss of the vessel.”

The specifics of the examination were never made known and this is the only document, a letter to the Consul, that alluded to the questioning. How it was ascertained, it was never mentioned in the documents, and B.O. Raney quickly fades away. It was rather anticlimactic for the Consuls in Constantinople and Athens, considering the subtlety they went through to get Raney to return.  

This anticlimactic end is also present in the last documented sighting of a man alleged to be similar in name and appearance to a member of the Carroll A. Deering's crew. This was on September 14, 1922, when a sailor named Peter Sorensen was known to have shipped out on the Danish ship Kronberg from Valparaiso, Chile.
   The FBI quickly began to check into the movements of the ship and discovered it was at Mejillones, Chile, its first loading point. The ship was then to head for Balboa, Panama Canal, due there October 6th. From there it might go to Jacksonville, Fla, or Savannah, Georgia and then to Philadelphia.
   Mr. Doubleda of the ship's company said he would keep the Department informed of the ship's movements. The FBI agent recommended the offices be contacted at Philadelphia to await the ship. This is the last heard of Kronberg and Sorensen, or any part of the case of the Carroll A. Deering. *
   (* From 1923 on the records of the FBI are still housed at the FBI building, Washington. The relevant documents to complete this last report must still be there. But since I could not prove that Sorensen was dead, they would not nor were required to release anything to me under FOIA.)
     What is rather interesting about the sightings for a crewman of the Deering is that they all represent one of the Danes on board. Never Fredrickson, the ruddy Finlander, Benjamin the veteran cook, and lastly never Bates, the reliable engineer. Only once a possible McLellan was seen— he who has been fingered as the lead mutineer in most critiques. (Richey's committee, while checking into the reality of a mutiny, did in fact concentrate their suspicions on Charles McLellan, the man who had a bad reputation and was allegedly disliked by Wormell. Richey even learned of McLellan's threat against Wormell's life in Barbados.)
   This sighting, furthermore, is one of the most piquing. A Cyril A. McLellan curiously emerged into existence within only a month after the Carroll A. Deering dereliction. On March 20,  1921, he was issued an A.B. Seaman certificate #20, 694 by the local board of Steamboat Inspectors in Portland, Oregon. The Department of Justice followed this up with an inquiry into the man's address and movements. In response to this, the Collector of Customs discovered that this Cyril McLellan was an untraceable person. He gave his address to the board which issued him his A.B. Seaman certificate as 88 Third Street, Portland— “This is the address of the sailor's Union,” wrote back the Collector of Customs, A. Moore,  “and upon inquiry they state that they have no knowledge of this person and it is not found that he shipped out of here on any vessel bound for foreign. The above information from the local Inspector's is all that this office is able to procure.”
     Neither could the Commissioner of Navigation's office find anything on a Cyril McLellan “. . . in the records of this office, nor in the records of the Sailors' Union of the Pacific at this port.” (San Francisco).
   The man was never traced. He emerged briefly in Portland, gave false information, and was never heard from again.
   In light of the theory that McLellan instigated the mutiny,  Jacobson's description of the man who called out to him becomes crucial. This description fits Johan Fredrickson,  the ruddy Finlander. If the most popular theories are correct that McLellan was responsible for the mutiny,  that the captain was dead,  and that Bates, the reliable engineer, was out of the way,  Fredrickson,  as the Bos'n, would be the next highest officer apart from McLellan. The fact that the Bos'n called out from the poop deck argues strongly for the supposition that the officers were either dead or, in McLellan's case,  occupied with covering the other men at gun-point.
     The chart from the captain's cabin was a windfall of information for Lawrence Richey. It is the greatest evidence that Wormell was dead.  As it is already known, this conclusively showed that Wormell marked the chart up to the 23rd of January, 8 days before she went aground at Diamond Shoals. After this, another hand took over the marking on the chart. The amount of time— 6 days— it took the Deering to traverse from Cape Fear Lightship to Cape Lookout lightship, which is only about 80 miles, caught Richey's eye. It was in this period of time that the captain must have been murdered as witnessed by the change in handwriting on the chart. But what caused the delayed amount of time for the vessel to cross that minimal distance of sea? Was the mutineer collecting his thoughts about his plan and ordered the vessel to sail about?
     Prosaic theories have never accounted for this.
     The cause of her abandonment resting on the fact she lost her anchors, as Edward Rowe Snow speculated (Mysteries and Adventures Along the Atlantic Coast) can be discounted since anchors are not a necessity for navigation. The fear of not being able to bring the ship to a secure stop would hardly inspire a crew to carefully desert their ship at sea under full sail, while taking the captain's possessions as well, instead of waiting until the calmer waters of Delaware Bay or the harbor where she could,  theoretically, tie along another ship after slowing under reduced sail.
   The reality of the Deering being under full sail is confirmed by the earliest reports of her finding on Diamond Shoals. A five masted schooner would hardly be at full sail is rough weather as ships reduce speed in heavy weather so as to take the waves and troughs more slowly and not crack up. Thus the theories founded on the crew being frightened of the rough weather and without anchors took to the boats only to drown in the rough tides off Cape Hatteras is so completely out as to be laughable. A crew in this condition would not have the time nor inclination to carefully pack their personal belongings.
       In developing the theory of mutiny or just plain murder,  it was speculated that McLellan was in a place of concealment and was holding the crew under gun-point when Fredrickson called out to Jacobson on the Lightship. Thus Jacobson only noted that the men were congregated on the poop deck, where they should not have been (officers' territory). It is also theorized that McLellan also caused the abandonment of the Deering to escape justice. By heading for the shore and disposing of the surprised and frightened crew in the long boat with gun fire, McLellan then could escape on his own. Until this time, McLellan may have kept some members of the crew locked up in the captain's cabin thus explaining the evidence of different men having slept in the master's room. Cooped up in this room on the ship, McLellan could easily keep a watch on them. But this would logically seem also to require that he had an accomplice. After all one man could not run the big Deering on his own.
     This really does not seem to account for the evidence, however. Why pass the lightship at all? If mutiny had occurred,  McLellan would simply avoid the coastline route,  avoid being spotted, and ditch the vessel at a safe location. Why bother to report the anchors as lost
     All speculations agree upon one thing:  the Carroll A. Deering was without a doubt not under the command of Willis Wormell at the point of contact with the Cape Lookout Lightship. Had he died of natural circumstances that close to their destination, the crew of the Deering would have reported that the captain was dead, which is immensely more important than the loss of the anchors. Also, if it was a simple accident it would have been McLellan or Bates calling out to Jacobson, not Fredrickson. Had Wormell only been sick below decks in his cabin, he never would have allowed for the dereliction of the ship for any reason. His cabin would also not show signs of having been slept in by other members of the crew, and the chart marked in another hand.
     There is reason to consider murder on the Deering, but is there reason to consider mutiny?  The following letter from a captain gave another time clue to the dereliction of the schooner. It was some of the more helpful information with which Richey had to contend. To this day, it is generally not known that the schooner was seen the day before she went aground, and indeed in a suggestive appearance.
       In connection with the stranding of the American schooner CAROL A. DEERING on North Carolina coast, January 31st, 1921. I can report that while bound from Sagua La Grande, Cuba, toward Baltimore on January 30th, 1921,  about 3:30 p.m. we sighted a five-masted  schooner about two points on our starboard bow. The wind was S.W.   moderate and she had all sails set and steering about NNW making about seven miles. We passed her about 5:45 p.m. about one-half mile off our port side. We were then about twenty-five miles S.W. true from the Diamond Shoals Light Vessel. From the description of the DEERING, we think that this schooner was her but we could not read her name, there was nothing irregular to be seen on board this vessel but she was steering a peculiar course. She appeared to be steering for Cape Hatteras. We sighted Diamond Shoals Light Vessel about 7 p.m. and passed it at 8:32 p.m. The lookout on the schooner should have sighted Cape Hatteras Light, also the Light Ship at Diamond Shoal a little later than we did but in plenty time to avoid going on shore as the weather was clear and cloudy with good visibility. There was a couple of more ships in the vicinity steering a course parallel with us which should have convinced the Captain of the schooner that he was steering a wrong course.

Hoping this may be of some value we are
                                   Very truly yours
                               Henry Johnson
                                 Master S.S. LAKE ELON
                                       E.V. Ferrandini, Chief Officer.
   Was the Deering intentionally being directed to destruction on the breakers? How can one explain all the evidence? Perhaps McLellan murdered Wormell in a fit. Perhaps Bates took out McLellan but was fatally wounded  in doing so. Who is left? Only the  crewmen— the bos’n, the cook, all the deckhands. What are they going to report at shore? ‘Our captain was murdered . . . but we had nothing to do with that. The first mate was murdered . . .but we had nothing to do with that. The second mate was murdered. . .but we had nothing to do with that.’ What do you think the local magistrates are going to think about that story? Could the crew have thought it best to quietly fade away instead of trying to explain the unbelievable truth?
   It has been said that the binnacle and the steering equipment on the Deering was found smashed with a mallet. Although this is lacking in official documentation, it is completely possible. This was probably done (if true) to  give incentive for the crew, in the “graveyard of ships” at Hatteras, to think it better to abandon ship instead of trying to steer around the shoals in a blind and disabled schooner. Who did it? Frederickson, to encourage all the men to abandon her and simply disappear? If it was mutiny, was it McLellan to make sure the crew would think it best to abandon ship?  He would then find it easy to dispose of them in the long boat while he stayed aboard. He then would steer the Deering into the shoals to be destroyed. Voila! No evidence. He may even have run up the red lights to make it look like an uncontrolled accident overtook the ship, if it were spotted.
   When the Lake Elon sighted the Deering steering for the shoals,  this formless murderer, whoever he was,  may have been the lone occupant of the Carroll A. Deering, carefully kept from the view of the Lake Elon's spyglass. The only evidence that he was on board may have been his shadow casting upon the deck from some place of concealment as he waited to abandon the ship in another lifeboat for safety and to assume a new identity . . . to leave the Deering to her fate in the breakers
     But the Deering survived to preserve within her cabins and upon her decks a riddle of the sea. Some explanation must be called upon to answer all the chain of events for those days in January, and all the evidence found on the vessel that windswept morning. But this sadly has never been accomplished to the satisfaction of anyone who has ever heard of the strange case of the Carroll A. Deering.





 All that was left, Decades later: curious wreckage on a North Carolina Beach.
What really happen to Caroll A. Deering and to Hewitt?












     
     

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