Wednesday, May 20, 2020


20 May 2020: Well, here we are again; still "socially distancing" and wearing our masks, washing our hands, and generally trying not to breathe! But maybe there's a light at the end of the tunnel and we will get back to some form of "normal" before too long! I hope you all are safe, though being in "self quarantine" gives you more time to read Maritime Maunder! As a side note to that - we are now at 108,000 readers  all over the globe and still 3 months from our 6th anniversary! Very surprising and humbling. Thank you.

Today's post actually happened some 7 years back, but received little notice beyond some local news coverage. We think it's pretty interesting and fun. So, from the U.S. Navy Undersea Museum, the following:         

The Howell Torpedo, according to the United States Naval Undersea Museum, was one of the Navy’s first torpedoes. Thirteen feet long and 14.2 inches wide, the Howell carried a 100-pound guncotton charge. The torpedo, launched from surface ships, was powered by a unique system that used a steam powered turbine to wind up a flywheel to 10,000 RPM. The stored energy in the flywheel was enough to send the Howell a distance between 400 and 800 yards. 

the "MARK 7 Marine Mammal System" (!) - or a navy dolphin

Of the 50 Howell torpedoes ever built, only two survived as display pieces. But in 2013, a U.S. Navy dolphin on a routine training mission in San Diego, California, discovered a third torpedo on the bottom of the ocean. The dolphin—officially a Mark 7 Marine Mammal System [really? not just a dolphin?:ed]—discovered the torpedo despite it being in pieces and largely buried in sea floor sediment.

Navy divers, acting on the Mark 7’s urging, investigated and discovered two pieces of a Howell torpedo. The torpedo featured an engraving on the nose cone that identified it as “No. 24.” The Underwater Archaeology Branch used the information to discover the identity of the torpedo:
(The branch) “conducted extensive archival research, leading to the discovery of a 20 December 1899 entry in USS Iowa's deck log that stated, "Lost H. Mark I, No. 24 torpedo...". USS Iowa had anchored off the coast of San Diego to conduct target practice. A practice warhead was used in training exercises, fastened onto the torpedo with only four pins and a screw. The practice head may have become detached from the torpedo body, which could explain why it was never recovered.

The torpedo pieces were shipped to the Naval History and Heritage Command’s Underwater Archaeology and Conservation Laboratory in Washington, D.C., to begin a lengthy preservation process. The pieces were immersed in a series of chemical baths to stabilize them. Next, 220 pounds of mineral buildup were painstakingly removed from the torpedo with pneumatic chisels and hand tools.
No. 24 is currently on temporary display at the U.S. Naval Undersea Museum along with a complete Howell torpedo. 

Thanks to an alert Mark 7 Marine Mammal (I think I really prefer "dolphin") we have a very rare historical artifact on display at the Washington Navy Yard museum.

Our next post will be a follow up on a piece we did a month or so ago about Titanic... stay tuned and be safe.

Until next time 
                             Fair Winds, 
                                     Old Salt

Tuesday, May 12, 2020


12 May 2020: Well, folks, here we are again, still isolating, still in lock down, and still going a trifle bonkers without human interaction (in person). Today's post will probably be of more interest to our American readers than, say, you fine folks in Turkmenistan, but there you are. It's relatively timely (the event we're writing about occurred on 11 May) and a bit of U.S. maritime history that contributed to a revolutionary change in the future of modern naval warfare. And so, maybe our friends in other countries might be intrigued by this one! After all, there are currently precious few navies in the world still using wooden ships! 
From Military History (on line) we have:

Launched in June 1855, the USS Merrimack was one of a class of six screw frigates commissioned by the U.S. Navy. The ship, as were the other members of her class, was named for American rivers – the Merrimack River flows through New Hampshire into Massachusetts.

After its commissioning in 1856, it had an unremarkable four-year career, and was de-commissioned in February 1860. It was put into ordinary (essentially mothballed for repairs or refitting) at the Gosport Navy Yard (now Norfolk Naval Shipyard in Portsmouth, VA) and remained there until April of the next year. As the secession crisis burned hotter, Navy Secretary Gideon Welles sought to have the vessel prepared for re-commissioning to aid the U.S. Navy. However, events overtook the ship. On April 20, two days after Virginia approved articles of secession, orders were given to destroy the naval base rather than let it fall into Confederate hands. Many of the ships in the base were set on fire, hoping that would be sufficient to destroy the trapped vessels (the Confederates had sunk several lightships in the channel, blocking Merrimack's escape).

However, the Merrimack was not completely destroyed; it merely burned to its waterline and sank in the shallow water. As soon as Confederate forces took over Gosport, a plan was hatched to convert the Merrimack into an ironclad vessel to break the Union blockade. From May 1861 to early March 1862, the vessel was refitted and rebuilt. The ship' steam engines were salvaged, and much of the burnt areas above decks were cut away. A new upper deck was constructed, which included 24 inches of oak and pine boards, and two 2-inch thick iron plating. It even had an iron ram on its bow (shades of ancient Greece and Rome). The newly-reconstructed ship was re-christened the CSS Virginia on February 17, 1862.

Still more work was necessary on the Virginia, but in early March of 1862, it was ordered to attack the Union blockading squadron at Hampton Roads. Even as it was steaming to its first battle, there were laborers still on board, working frantically to finish outfitting the vessel.

On March 8, 1862 the CSS Virginia attacked Union naval vessels, sinking two of them the first day. Returning the next day, the Confederates were confronted by the first Federal ironclad, the USS Monitor. The resulting 4-hour battle went down in world history as the first battle between two ironclad vessels. However, each ship' armor was nearly impenetrable. The Virginia sustained damage to its smokestack, lost two of its cutters (lifeboats), several of her iron plates were loosened, two of its main guns and two upper-deck anti-boarding howitzers were put out of action by the Union "cheesebox on a raft." Finally, around noon the Virginia withdrew from the fight, probably because low tide was approaching. The battle of Hampton Roads ended in a draw.

Over the next two months, the Virginia sailed out to challenge the Monitor to continue the fight. However, Union naval vessels refused to take on "the Rebel Monster" as it was dubbed. Its death knell was sounded on May 10, when Union troops occupied Norfolk, VA the ship' port. Virginia was not seaworthy enough to break the Union blockade, and its deep draft would not allow her to retreat further up the James River. The crew threw overboard much of the coal, and even some of the guns, but only succeeded in exposing some of the unarmored section of the vessel. Therefore, the decision was made to scuttle the ship a second time.

Early on the morning of May 11, the Virginia' armament was removed, and the ship was sailed out and grounded just off Craney Island. One of the ship' officers set powder trails to explode the magazine. Its 13-star Confederate flag still flying, the Virginia exploded and sank.


And here ends your history lesson for today, and note that 9 March 1862  marks the beginning of the "modern era" of naval warfare: iron [clad] ships. Virginia (nee Merrimack) only fought one battle and that to a draw, and ended her career on 11 May 1862, but together with the Union ironclad, Monitor, changed the course of naval ship design and warfare, irrevocably. 

Until next time, 
                            Fair winds, 
                                Old Salt