Resurrecting
the Vasa
By
Jeffrey Bowen
Under a bright blue sky on August 10, 1628, a day
with pleasantly light winds, a massive 226-foot warship, towering four stories
or 172 feet above the waterline and loaded with rigging and sails, eased its
way into the Bay of Stockholm, Sweden on its maiden voyage.
The ship had been built on orders from Sweden’s
King Gustavus Adolphus. Named after the
royal house, the Vasa was viewed by the king as an imposing symbol of his
country’s intention to dominate the Baltic, both militarily and economically.
At the
time, Sweden was engaged in an eight-year war with Poland-Lithuania. The naval battles had not been going well. A single storm had destroyed 10 of Sweden’s
best ships. Along with sister ships
under construction, the Vasa was an artillery-laden attempt to turn the tide.
The galleon was uniquely armed with two full decks
of 62 bronze cannons, and was richly decorated with about 500 sculptures and cultural
ornaments. It must have been quite a
colorful sight for the excited spectators who lined the shore.
Excitement shifted to horror as the Vasa drifted several
hundred feet offshore, encountered a modest breeze, listed steeply onto its side,
took on water through its open gun ports, and sank in 105 feet of water.
Four centuries later, the Vasa is quite intact and
marvelously restored, sitting in a naval museum on the shore of the
harbor. The vessel is visited by millions
of tourists annually. My wife Hillary
and I were among those visitors in 2016.
The four floors of the Vasa are accessible by
stairs or elevator. Each floor highlights
different aspects of 17th century Swedish life. What truly captured our imagination is the
story of the ship’s destiny after its watery demise, and the lessons we have
learned from it.
The seaworthiness of the Vasa was questionable
long before its launch. There was too
much elevated construction above the water line, with a narrow hull, heavy
cannons, and little ballast in the hold.
The king had repeatedly interfered with construction and had impatiently
pushed for an early launch.
The potential
lurch of the ship was tested by 30 crew members who were told to run fast from
one side of the ship to the other. After
three times, the test was terminated because the tilt became potentially
disastrous.
A naval inquest was conducted, but ultimately no
official was blamed and punished.
Perhaps this was because the specifications and armaments had been repeatedly
revised by the king himself. The
investigators concluded, “Only God knows.”
Although its valuable cannons were removed not
long after the sinking, the galleon lay in murky obscurity for several hundred
years. Not until 1956 was the vessel finally
relocated by an amateur archeologist.
Anaerobic conditions preserved most of the wood, cloth, and leather on
the ship. Heroic dredging and thousands
of dives eventually brought the Vasa to its museum location where it has
undergone continuous restoration since 1961.
The preservation of the Vasa represents an
impressive combination of marine archeology, advanced technology and engineering,
national willpower and inspiration. When we visited Stockholm, we nearly overlooked
the opportunity to visit a ship that never went to war, sank ignominiously, and
lay mostly forgotten in the salty mud for centuries. It seems that history may be neglected, but its
symbols eventually return to us with valuable lessons about who we really are.
6/2020
