Sabotage in the Arctic: Fate of the Submarine Nautilus

By Stewart B. Nelson

The story of Australian-born Sir Hubert Wilkins and the Nautilus is usually a brief footnote, if mentioned at all, of Arctic exploration history. However, it is a tale of daring enterprise and of men captivated by the pursuit of noble deeds. Having leased and extensively modified a decommissioned vintage World War I U.S. Navy submarine, the Wilkins-Ellsworth Trans Arctic Submarine Expedition of 1931 was marked by controversy from its inception. Many considered it a huge publicity stunt, especially the planned rendezvous at the North Pole with the German airship Graf Zeppelin. The Nautilus did make it into the Arctic but suspected sabotage ended Sir Huberts quest to be the first to use a submarine to cross the Arctic Ocean by way of the North Pole.

An oceanographer, historian and author, Dr. Nelson is a Fellow of the Marine Technology Society, a member of the Explorers Club and the former president of the American Oceanic Organization.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 28, 2007
• ISBN: 9781465332097

Stewart B. Nelson

Dr. Stewart B. Nelson was coleader and scientific advisor of Project Nautilus 2005, an Explorers Club flag expedition that successfully rediscovered the world’s first Arctic submarine, the Nautilus, scuttled off Bergen, Norway, in November 1931. With major financial support provided by Holland America Line and the Thyssen Foundation, a two-man submersible was used to descend 1,138 feet (347 meters) beneath the surface of the Byfjorden and thoroughly document the historic Nautilus.

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Copyright © 2007 by Stewart B. Nelson.

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Appendix I

Appendix II

Appendix III

Bibliography

Endnotes

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CAPTAIN SIR HUBERT WILKINS

Born: October 31, 1888   Mount Bryan East, Australia

Died: November 30, 1958   Framingham, Massachusetts

Acknowledgments

Special acknowledgment must be given to Holland America Line (HAL), Thyssen Foundation, and the American Philosophical Society (APS). It was the financial support provided by these organizations that made it possible to carry out Project Nautilus 2005—our dive program in September 2005 to rediscover and document the submarine Nautilus.

Our dive program succeeded because of the complete dedication of the JAGO submersible team: Dr. Hans Fricke, Juergen Schauer, Karen Hissman, and Sebastian Fricke. It was to our great benefit to have in Bergen, Norway, the outstanding and unstinting support of Halvor Mohr, Sjøservice A/S, and Atle Toskedal, Toskedal UV-Service A/S. Also in Bergen, two other companies must be recognized: Marin Innovasjon A/S and Kjøde & Kjøde A/S.

Certainly I must give credit to the individual in Bergen that facilitated my initial discussions with Dr. Hans Fricke of the Max Planck Institute: Arild Hansen of the Bergen Maritime Museum.

Unquestionably, among the most rewarding aspects connected with this book were the many people that so willingly offered me their assistance in researching Sir Hubert, Lady Wilkins, the Wilkins-Ellsworth Trans Arctic Submarine Expedition, and the submarine Nautilus. Each imparted new energy to my quest, and I remain most grateful for their interest and help.

As Sir Hubert and Lady Wilkins were both Australians, I must express a special note of thanks to my new mates Down Under: Len Wilkins of Ridgehaven, South Australia, for his great Web site on Sir Hubert, his many personal replies to my array of questions, and his researching on my behalf the land records relating to the Wilkinses’ family holdings; and Don and Glad Miller of Blackburn, North Australia, for their wondrous generosity of time and effort in visiting Walhalla, Australia, and exploring other resources to learn more about Suzanne Bennett (Lady Wilkins).

I owe a debt of gratitude to Laura J. Kissel, polar curator, Byrd Polar Research Center, Archival Program, Ohio State University (OSU). She was always ready to assist, most especially in providing me with images and copies of such documents as Sir Hubert’s Nautilus expedition report that he prepared in 1947. Most informative was the OSU online exhibit about the Nautilus that was posted to the Web in early 2007.

Charles Martinek and Jerry Carroll at the Naval Oceanographic Office (NAVOCEANO) told me about a planned demonstration exercise by the Royal Norwegian Navy (RNoN) off Bergen that resulted in our obtaining underwater sonar imagery of the Nautilus. Of course that came about because of the personal enthusiasm of Torgeir Svolsbru and Per Espen Hagen at the Norwegian Defense Research Establishment and Hans Christian Kjelstrup of the RNoN.

For allowing me the courtesy of publishing the photographs and other materials used in this book, I must especially thank Stephen Finnigan and Wendy Gulley of the Navy Submarine Force Museum, New London, Connecticut, and Stephen Showers, Otis Elevator Company, Hartford, Connecticut.

Many other individuals readily aided in my need for knowledge and information, including Jason Turflinger, American Chamber of Commerce, Oslo, Norway; Linda Musumeci, Dr. Martin Leavitt, and Denise Carbone, American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Dr. Benoit Beauchamp, William Barr, and Karen McCullough, Arctic Institute of North America, University of Calgary, Calgary, Alberta, Canada; Evie Newell, Archives, Cleveland Museum of Natural History; Donna Halper, broadcast historian, Emerson College, Boston, Massachusetts; Robert A. Hamilton, director of communications, General Dynamics Electric Boat, New London, Connecticut; Stein Kruse, CEO, Rose Abello, vice president, public relations, and Ellen Stearns, Holland America Line, Seattle, Washington; Dr. Gary E. Weir and Barbara A. Voulgaris, Naval Historical Center, Washington, D.C.; Lucinda and Alan Heinlein, Neptune, New Jersey; Jack Greco, manager, Old Colony Hotel, Framingham, Massachusetts; Heather Lane, archive librarian, Scott Polar Research Institute, University of Cambridge, Cambridge, England; Mike Brewis, archive librarian, South West Film and Television Archive, Plymouth, England; Betty Smith, Susquehanna Historical Society, Montrose, Pennsylvania; Guy Hannaford and June Dillon, United Kingdom Hydrographic Office, Taunton, Somerset, England; Helen Roberts, senior archivist, University of Hull, Brynmor Jones Library, Hull, England; Patty Welsh, Public Affairs Office, U.S. Army Soldier Systems Center, Natick, Massachusetts; Joan Bennett, library, Western Morning News, Plymouth, England; Dr. Robert Gagosian, Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, Woods Hole, Massachusetts; and John Favareau, Yonkers Public Library, Yonkers, New York.

I took all that these individuals, and others, offered. The distillation process was mine, and so I must be held accountable for any errors.

Preface

After Robert Peary and Matthew Henson became the first to reach the North Pole, other intrepid adventurers took to the skies in planes and airships in pursuit of new glories in that frozen wasteland. Among them was the Australian George Hubert Wilkins. In 1928, after previous failures, Wilkins and his North Dakota—born pilot Ben Eielson flew a Lockheed Vega airplane on the first east-to-west transarctic crossing, from Point Barrow, Alaska, to Spitsbergen, Norway. Soon after that flight, and perhaps in the public’s euphoria over aerial feats, Britain’s King George V knighted Wilkins for his 15 years of consecutive work in the interest of science and national service. Deciding not to use his first name, the forty-year-old Australian was now Sir Hubert.

For Sir Hubert, there was still one more Arctic conquest to be made. Wilkins announced that he planned to make a transarctic voyage by going under the Arctic ice pack. All he needed was a submarine and sponsors.

In 1930, he managed to lease a submarine, the O-12, a tired, vintage World War I vessel that the U.S. Navy was going to scrap. A considerable sum of money was spent modifying the submarine for operation in the Arctic. Inspired by Jules Verne’s novel Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, the O-12 was christened with the same name as Jules Verne’s fictional submarine, Nautilus.

With an all-civilian crew, although most were experienced submariners, the Wilkins-Ellsworth Trans Arctic Submarine Expedition intended to cross the Arctic Ocean from Spitsbergen to Barrow, Alaska, eventually terminating in New York City. A spectacular highlight of the expedition would be a rendezvous at the North Pole with the German airship Graf Zeppelin.

While many considered his submarine venture to be foolhardy, others became willing participants. The American millionaire Lincoln Ellsworth was a major financial backer and lent his name to the expedition as its scientific advisor. Harald Sverdrup, a Norwegian oceanographer and meteorologist, became the expedition’s chief scientist. Simon Lake, pioneer submarine designer, enthusiastically devised the many special features that he envisioned, often at odds with Wilkins, as necessary for travel under the ice. Newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst contracted for exclusive reporting rights and gave the aura to Wilkins’s Arctic expedition as nothing more than a huge publicity stunt.

Sir Hubert and his submarine Nautilus did eventually make it to the Arctic ice pack; but plagued by problems, including suspected sabotage by some of the crew, the expedition had to be aborted. Back in Bergen, Norway, the decision was make to scuttle the Nautilus; and in November 1931, it was sunk in the fjord in 1,138 feet (347 meters) of water. There it remained, unseen by human eyes and mostly forgotten.

In late 2004, I, together with Dr. Hans Fricke of the Max Planck Institute, began planning Project Nautilus 2005—a dive program using the two-person submersible JAGO. That dive program took place in September 2005. Indeed, after several years of researching the Nautilus, it was a great thrill to descend to the bottom of the fjord and finally see and video the world’s first Arctic submarine. There are no plans to raise it, but the Bergen Maritime Museum is expanding its permanent Nautilus exhibit and hopes to have the submarine designated as a historic underwater site.

One of the challenges in doing this book was to frequently remind myself that the primary focus was on Sir Hubert’s 1931 Arctic expedition. Wilkins’s life experiences were of such amazing scope and scale, it became exceedingly difficult to delimit the man and his accomplishments.

Frustrating too was the research for this book. Consider the relatively simple matter of the cost for converting the submarine. Although Wilkins remained circumspect, the press initially reported the cost at $250,000; and Lincoln Ellsworth, the American millionaire, was credited as the principal benefactor. When writing in 1947, Sir Hubert commented that the initial cost had tripled. In his later years, he is reputed to have said that he invested $250,000 of his own money. If so, from where did he have that amount? Although it has been suggested, it seems highly unlikely that he realized anywhere near this sum as one of the beneficiaries from his family’s estate in Australia. Did he obtain the money from his wife or her family? Suzanne Bennett (Lady Wilkins) was born in the Australian mining town of Walhalla; and her father was seemingly able to have that country’s renowned diva, Dame Nellie Melba, perform at his mining camp. Consider too the sabotage of the submarine. Confusion reigns over where it may have happened. Was it in Bergen or Spitsbergen or in the ice pack?

Had time and circumstance allowed, it might have been possible to dig deeper to resolve the many inconsistencies that mark Sir Hubert and the Nautilus. Perhaps it would have been to no avail. One author writing of Wilkins was eventually left with no other recourse than to refer to Sir Hubert as the enigma of exploration. Nevertheless, he was a man that dared to be great.

Ill-fated the Arctic expedition may have been, but the Nautilus of 1931 deserves its place in history, as do the men of that bold venture. Wilkins was part of that long line of polar explorers, and in structuring this book, I elected to present both Sir Hubert and the submarine Nautilus in a much broader and descriptive context. Hopefully, it will give added dimension to this fascinating story.

Chapter One

The Arctic and North Pole: A Bit of History

The Arctic Ocean is the smallest of the world’s five oceans (after the Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, and, as of 2000, the officially designated Southern Ocean). It encompasses an area of 5.4 million square miles (14.1 square kilometers), slightly less than 1.5 times the size of the United States. A perennial drifting polar ice pack covers the central surface terrain. On average it is about 10 feet (3 meters) thick, although pressure ridges may be three times that thickness. It is a region characterized by persistent cold and relatively narrow annual temperature ranges. Winter brings continuous darkness, but at any time, it can be a forbidding and unforgiving place.

The Arctic region initially drew explorers trying to find a trade route across the top of the world. Some sought the elusive Northwest Passage, following the coast of North America, while others searched for a Northeast Passage along the Siberian coast. They came by the hundreds, and just as many died in the Arctic’s icy wasteland. Sailing under the French flag in 1524, the Florentine navigator Giovanni da Verrazano thought he had found the beginning of the Northwest Passage; but alas, it would later prove to be only the mouth of the Hudson River. Today he is remembered, although few are probably able to make the association, with the Verrazano Bridge that connects New York City’s Brooklyn and Staten Island. Also in the sixteenth century, the Frenchman Jacques Cartier, in his quest for the Northwest Passage to the Orient, discovered the St. Lawrence River and laid the basis for France’s claim to Canada. Scurvy and Iroquois would kill many of his crew. England sent forth its adventurer Martin Frobisher who sailed along latitude sixty degrees north. Following him was John Davis, who got as far as latitude seventy-two degrees north, where ice prevented him from going further. The Dutch sponsored the Englishman Henry Hudson, and in 1609, he landed on an island that the Dutch would later name New Amsterdam but today is far better known as Manhattan. The following year, Hudson was financed by the English and in his ship Discovery came upon the huge body of water that now bears his name, Hudson Bay. His mutinous crew set Hudson, his son, and seven companions adrift in a boat, never to be seen again. William Baffin, in both 1615 and 1616, piloted two expeditions on behalf of England and, frustrated by the ice, returned convinced that a Northwest Passage did not exist; and his reputation was such that further exploration was discouraged for decades afterward.

By the early nineteenth century, the British decided to resume the search for the Northwest Passage. In 1818, John Ross failed with his two ships, Isabella and Alexander. Edward Parry was unsuccessful in 1821 with his two ships, Hecla and Griper. Then, in 1845, Sir John Franklin set sail with Erebus and Terror, and all would die in the icy Arctic. It was not until 1905 that the Norwegian Roald Amundsen, on board his small vessel Gjoa, finally located the long sought-after Northwest Passage.

Others, meanwhile, had been searching for the Northeast Passage. The Dutchman Willem Barents, from 1594 to 1596, led three expeditions and got as far as latitude seventy-six degrees north. On his last voyage, which would claim his life as well as many of his crew, he discovered Spitsbergen and claimed it for Holland. Hundreds of whales were seen around Spitsbergen, and soon the Dutch and English whalers made the waters a killing ground. Interestingly, Russian traders, in the seventeenth century, devised a sea route from Siberia to the Far East. The Russian czar, Peter the Great, just before his death in 1725, initiated the first of several exploring expeditions that resulted in the discovery of the Aleutian Islands and Alaska. The most memorialized of these explorers is Vitus Bering, a Dane, who served in Peter the Great’s navy and has his name attached to both a sea and a strait. He died in 1741 on an Aleutian island that also bears his name. However, the real opening of the Northeast Passage was by the Swede Nils Nordenskjöld when, in 1879, he finally pushed his 145-foot-long steam-powered whaler from Göteborg, Sweden, to Yokohama, Japan.

The periphery of the Arctic Ocean had now been breached through both the Northwest and Northeast. Yet questions still remained as to what would be found when man eventually reached the central part of the Arctic.

At ninety degrees north, the North Pole is the northernmost point on planet Earth. That point, imagined by the ancient Greeks more than three thousand years before man first reached it, stirred the imagination for centuries past. It is not an easy point to locate geographically as it is to be found amidst the mass of jumbled pack ice unhurriedly moving clockwise around the Arctic Ocean.

Sir John Barrow, in 1818, thought that the center of Arctic Ocean was open water surrounded by a ring of pack ice—the open polar sea.

However, the person who may first have stirred the greatest public interest in the North Pole itself was retired U.S. Army captain John Cleves Symmes. On April 10, 1818, while in St. Louis, Missouri, he issued a circular To All the World that proclaimed,

I declare the earth is hollow and habitable within; containing a number of solid concentric spheres, one within the other, and that it is open at the poles 12 or 16 degrees; I pledge my life in support of this truth, and am ready to explore the hollow, if the world will support and aid me in the undertaking. I ask one hundred brave companions, well equipped, to start from Siberia in the fall season, with Reindeer and slays, on the ice of the frozen sea: I engage we find a warm and rich land, stocked with thrifty vegetables and animals if not men, on reaching one degree northward of latitude 82; we will return in the succeeding spring.

With his theory in hand, he began traveling the lecture circuit. By February 1819, Symmes was already acknowledging that he had received

passive concurrence of several