By Larisa Tatge 



I, 



Aft 



fter a storm the sea 

 turns blue, as in pictures. 

 Near the shore, 

 tree trunks and roots 

 torn up by the storm 

 float gently along. 

 Gulls emerge 

 to fly over the water. 

 That morning, 

 when the breeze died down, 

 the surface of the water 

 turned metallic 

 and the raft glided along 

 in a straight line. 

 The warm wind 

 felt reassuring 

 to my body and my spirit. 



Gabriel Garcia Marquez, 

 "The Story of a 

 Shipwrecked Sailor" 



Ln seafaring lore, shipwrecks 

 evoke images of evil tempests and sun- 

 blistered sailors stranded on remote 

 islands. For historians, sunken vessels 

 serve as telling points on the map of 

 civilization. They have created commu- 

 nities and sustained others that could 

 have disappeared. 



The combination of the shoals, 

 capes and the convergence of two major 

 currents, the Labrador and the Gulf 

 Stream, makes the North Carolina coast 

 treacherous and its maritime history 

 unique among coastal states. The 

 shoals, or shallow fingers of sand, were 

 once a sea captain's nemesis. About 

 3,700 sunken vessels lie off the 

 Carolina coast, most within five miles 

 of shore. 



Although a shipwreck brought 

 death and financial ruin to some of the 

 early European explorers, it meant 

 prosperity for others. Since the days of 

 the earliest Spanish explorers, ship- 

 wrecks have provided economic 

 sustenance for coastal communities. As 

 historian David Stick wrote in his 

 famous book, "Graveyard of the 

 Atlantic," shipwrecks landed new 

 residents on the Outer Banks in the 

 early 16th century. By the turn of the 

 19th century, the shoals had snared 

 hundreds of vessels. 



One of the most disastrous periods 

 for maritime travel occurred between 

 1893 and 1899, when an average of one 

 ship was reported lost each week. 



Yet the misfortunes of sea travelers 

 breathed life into the coastal economy. 

 The wrecks provided jobs for profes- 

 sional salvagers and lost goods dealers, 

 as well as lifesavers. Towns often 

 organized their own wreck commis- 

 sions to distribute the rescued shiploads 

 of sugar, salt, coffee, cotton, metal, 

 marble and lumber. Many times, 

 however, the bounty floated away or 

 dropped to the floor of the sea — along 

 with the mariners who accompanied it. 



But when sextants and nautical 

 tables gave way to Loran navigation 

 and other modernities, seagoing vessels 

 no longer floundered along the Tar 



Heel coast. The Gulf Stream and the 

 Labrador currents still beat against the 

 shoals with a vengeance, but technology 

 tamed the seafaring life, making 

 navigation more predictable. 



Tales of shipwrecks lived on in 

 coastal towns, where songs were written 

 and stories told throughout generations 

 about famous tempests and brave 

 lifesavers. More recently, through 

 advances in technology, the ardor of 

 preservationists and the zeal of tourists, 

 shipwrecks are surfacing as relics for 

 study, preservation and exploration. 



Since Jacques Cousteau's develop- 

 ment of the Aqua-Lung in 1943, 

 scientists have defied nature and 

 meandered freely beneath the ocean's 

 surface. Today, diving has evolved into 

 a popular hobby and accounts for many 

 coastal tourism dollars. Divers plunge to 

 spy the skeletal remains of 17th century 

 trading ships, Civil War blockade 

 runners and German U-boats that litter 

 the ocean floor. 



Archaeologist Richard Lawrence 

 was lured as well. As a student at the 

 University of Colorado, he envisioned a 

 life unearthing dusty relics a la Indiana 

 Jones. Instead he moved to North 

 Carolina and immersed himself in the 

 state's outstanding burial ground of lost 

 ships, schooners and barks. Deep in the 

 soundproof world of the sea, among the 

 shards of colored pottery and antique 

 glass, Lawrence found well-preserved 

 slices of history as fascinating as any 

 terrestrial discovery. 



"Ships are intriguing because they 

 represent the most advanced technology 

 of their time period," says Lawrence, 

 who has spent the past 20 years explor- 

 ing the state's Atlantic graveyard as 

 head of the Underwater Archaeology 

 Unit of the N.C. Division of Archives 

 and History. North Carolina boasts one 

 of the strongest efforts to preserve 

 shipwrecks among coastal states. 



That commitment is evident in the 

 unit and its staff of five full-time 

 workers — "and the fact we've been at 

 it for over 30 years," says Lawrence. "If 

 you look at the remains that end up on 

 the beach, (debris findings) happen 

 everywhere along the Atlantic Coast, 



MAY I JUNE 1995 



