Mary Rose salvors learned much from raising of Wasa

Press, 24 June 1983, Page 16

Mary Rose salvors learned much from raising of Wasa

GARRY ARTHUR

When King Henry VIII’s great battleship the Mary Rose was raised from the muddy bed of the Solent last October, the salvors and archaeologists working on the project owed much of their knowledge to those who had raised another great man-o’-war, the Wasa, in Stockholm harbour more than 20 years before. Dr Lars-Ake Kvarning, director of the museum in which the 64-gun warship now stands, said in Christchurch last week that the salvors of the Mary Rose kept in close contact with the Swedish experts whose success with the Wasa inspired them to go ahead. Dr Kvarning was in New Zealand to address the Oceans Conference about the Wasa Museum, one of the finest maritime museums in the world. It houses not only the reconstructed hull of the Wasa, which capsized and sank within 2km of her launching on August 10, 1628,

but also the extraordinary range of contents of the ship, which makes it a true time capsule of* Swedish shipboard life in the seventeenth century. The loss of the Wasa was almost an action replay of the sinking of the Mary Rose 83 years before. Like the Mary Rose, the Wasa was the pride of the navy, and she began her maiden voyage carrying the nation’s hopes that she would be the key to defeating the enemy — in Sweden’s case the Hapsburg empire. She carried many notables, an unknown number of soldiers, and even wives and children of some of the crew. They were to be aboard for only the first short stage of the voyage. Many of Stockholm’s 10,000 citizens were there to watch the Wasa set out on the warm summer afternoon of August 10. Once she was out of the harbour a faint breeze filled the four sails that had been set, and she fired a two-gun salute to signal her departure. Then a strong gust of wind off the cliffs of Soder made the great ship heel over. She righted herself quickly and glided on. Hundreds of small craft had no trouble keeping pace with her in the light breeze.

Away from the protection of the cliffs, however, a stiff breeze unexpectedly heeled her over again. Once more she righted herself, but the captain was worried by the degree to which she had leaned, and ordered the topsail sheets (ropes) to be cast loose. Then another gust of wind hit the Wasa and again she heeled over — further and further until her open gun ports began to take in water. The sea poured in and the ship heeled over so far that her rail touched the water. Just off a spot called Beckholmen the Wasa capsized completely and went gently to the bottom “flags flying and sails set.”

Luckily for those men, women, and children who survived the sinking, the many small craft were quickly on the scene to rescue people floundering in the water. It is now thought that the 300 soldiers had not embarked for the first stage of the voyage, and that only about 60 crew and passengers were drowned.

As with the Mary Rose, the ship’s design and management were called into question. Was she too bulky and top-heavy in the superstructure, was she too narrow at the bottom, did she have enough “belly,” was she properly ballasted?

At the inquiry which followed the sinking, the ship’s master revealed that, weeks before, the ship had been suspected of being top-heavy, and a capsizing test was made, running 30 men from one side of the ship to the other.

The first time, she went over by the width of one plank, the second time by the width of two planks, and the third time by the width of three planks. The admiral then ordered the tests stopped for fear that the Wasa would go “right over.”

In spite of the unfavourable test results, the launching went ahead. The ship’s builder told the court of inquiry that a previous shipbuilder — who had died after the keel was laid — had drawn up the “sert,” or list of dimensions, in accordance with the orders of the King of Sweden himself. Not surprisingly, perhaps, the findings of the court of inquiry have never come to light. Strenuous attempts were made

to raise the Wasa soon after the sinking, but without success. She was just too heavy. Using a primitive lead diving bell, divers did manage to get up more than 50 of the Wasa’s guns, destroying her upper deck in the process, but then she was left to sink into the mud.

Her location was forgotten, and only discovered again in 1957. Then in 1960 the Swedish Government organised the most expensive and comprehensive salvage programme in the history of underwater archaeology, to raise the Wasa from the sea. The man-o’-war had settled intact on an even keel, and was raised in one piece to be housed in a museum built specially for the purpose. Hawsers were run through holes tunnelled under her keel, and she was raised by the use of pontoons which were flooded, then pumped out in stages. Once off the bottom, she was towed underwater in the cradle of wires on a 28-day journey to shallow waters. There she stayed for another three years while she was repaired and prepared for the final lift.

As well as the tall rigging, enormous superstructure, and heavy armament, Wasa’s rich ornamentation must have contributed something to her capsize. Dozens of beautiful woodcarvings, most of them found in the mud around the wreck, showed that the Wasa deserved her title of “king’s ship.” Seven master-carvers had been

employed to decorate her in a style fit for a king. They fashioned mermaids, warriors, dragons, and fanciful birds and beasts, many designed to strike terror into the hearts of the enemy. These had been fixed to the outside of the ship. Fiercely glaring lions’ faces stared out from all gunports, in vivid colours whose traces can still be detected.

One of the last carvings to be found before the Wasa was raised was the lion that was the central feature of the ship’s figurehead — a great beast 10ft 7in long, crouching ready to spring at the enemy. These wooden objects, and the timbers of the ship herself, had first to be treated against fungus, and then protected against further degeneration. The outer layers had softened and broken down, and these were treated by gradually replacing the water still in the wood with polyethyleneglycol (P.E.G.), which stabilises the wood by penetrating the cells and congealing into a firm mass. Dr Kvarning said that the Wasa’s hull was sprinkled with P.E.G. from 1961 to 1979, and annual bore sample tests showed that the chemical had done its job. Further penetration would be so slow and minimal that it was not considered worth while. The wooden sculptures were also successfully treated, judging by the fact that they have been exhibited for 15 years with no sign of deterioration. The Wasa has been on display throughout this long period of

conservation and study, and has been seen by an estimated nine million visitors.

The Baltic Sea holds other very good shipwrecks, Dr Kvarning said, because its waters are not salty enough to support the woodworm which attacks wrecks in seawater. “The whole Baltic is a treasure chamber of old wrecks,” he added, “but raising a ship is so expensive that I doubt if it will ever be done again.”

The Wasa provides important knowledge of shipbuilding in an era when no plans were made, and for which no good models exist. Shipbuilders simply worked from a list of dimensions. Nelson’s eighteenth century flagship, the Victory, can still be seen in Portsmouth Harbour, and earlier than the Wasa, the Mary Rose is a fine example of sixteenth century Tudor shipbuilding.

Dr Kvarning said that the interesting gap now is shipbuilding in medieval times, about which very little is known. With the tremendous modem interest in diving, he is fairly confident that a medieval wreck will be found, perhaps wellpreserved, like the Wasa, in the Baltic Sea.

Dr Kvarning brought to the Oceans Conference an exhibition of Wasa material, including casts of some of the bigger sculptures, such as the stemcastle crest. Now at the Auckland Museum, it is to be toured around the country by the Swedish Embassy.