Page 76 - AlertDiver_Summer2011_web

74 | SUMMER 2011

Opposite: A diver explores the Hermes, a 165-foot freighter sunk as an artificial reef one mile off Horseshoe Bay on Bermuda’s south side.

B

ermuda has always been a beautiful conundrum. Its lawns and streets are among the most manicured on the planet. And, if such a thing is possible, its people have attained a level of civility that exceeds even the tidiness of the island. High tea comes each day with a punctuality the Swiss would applaud and with a traditional savoir faire and grace that could shame the rudeness from a schoolyard bully. As Mark Twain once said, “The deep peace and quiet of the country sink into one’s body and bones and give his conscience a rest.” Yet there is disorder offshore. Well disguised as a jeweled garland that circles the island like a gem-studded necklace is a coral reef. On calm days, of which there are many, the coral bastion that protects the well-tended gardens

and banks and shops looks like it could have been hijacked from a Disney exhibit. Wonderfully blue water wraps around delicate hard corals as sea rods and sea fans sway gently in the slight swell. And beyond lies a vast, wide-open sea of deep azure.

But there are days when viscous clouds gather in unruly crowds and the seas become contrary and roil and froth. The winds blow mercilessly; the sea and sky turn dark, and that lovely garland shows its thorns. Ships seeking refuge from the merciless sea take aim at Bermuda’s calm bays, invitingly fringed with placid pink sand and palms. In the past 400 seafaring years, the battlements that lay hidden just beneath churning water have cleaved the hearts out of hundreds of unlucky or unknowing vessels, all within swimming distance of shore. The coral ring has shown no cultural bias, eviscerating

and sinking British, Spanish, Dutch, Portuguese and even local ships as if driven by a primordial hunger for destruction. Like a crazed serial killer, the sea has kept its prizes, embedded in pieces amid the sand and coral. Cannons, Aztec gold, gems, dinnerware, rudders, boilers, paddlewheels, pilothouses, anchors and ballast stones have all become part of the mosaic of Bermuda’s wreck-haunted sea. All are reminders that man’s presence in the world is ephemeral, small and easily extinguished. And all are reminders that Bermuda sits at a seafaring crossroads. Life on this tiny and strategic rock in the Atlantic is subject to the whims of the sea, and it has been that way since the first settlers were tossed upon its shores.

The Sea Venture

Bermuda was superstitiously avoided as the “Isle of Devils” until a group of

English settlers heading for Virginia aboard the Sea Venture was shipwrecked in 1609, becoming the island’s first permanent residents. One look at the vast array of artifacts from 16 th - and 17 th -century shipwrecks on display at the Bermuda Maritime Museum tells how frequently the tale of the Sea Venture has been repeated. It is a tale that has lured me and thousands of other shipwreck enthusiasts to this refined realm over the years.

A Life’s Fascination

The first time I sailed into Bermuda I was in the U.S. Navy, crossing the Atlantic in a sailing race. We limped in, beaten by a sudden and frightening storm, the sails of our 48-foot sloop in tatters and our rudder inoperable. Passing over hundreds of years of shipwrecks, we were a prayer away from joining them. I wanted to hug the land when we finally

B y T y S a w y e r

A civilized, orderly, ship-eating place

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