When was hunley found

Five of its members died in the torpedo blast, but the damaged ship came to rest in relatively shallow water, allowing the survivors to climb rigging, deploy lifeboats and escape. The research was funded by Duke University, the U. Department of Defence, the U. Scientists uncover what killed crew of Civil War sub H. Science Scientists uncover what killed crew of Civil War sub H. But despite its claim to fame, it was a dangerous vessel to be inside.

In a career of just eight months during the Civil War , between July and February , the sub sank three times, killing nearly 30 men—including its inventor. It was recovered twice. Its final sinking, shortly after it plunged a live torpedo into the hull of the Union warship USS Housatonic, has long mystified maritime and military historians. What sank the Hunley for good? Over years after it sank, the submarine was found on the seabed in Five years later, it was brought to the surface.

Rachel Lance. The dark hull of the submarine rose a few inches above the waterline. Pale moonlight glinted off the quiet ocean as small waves lapped against the hull. The submarine was about 40 feet long, cylindrical down most of its slim length, but with a tapered, wedge-shaped bow and stern that hinted at how quickly it could slice through the water. The deadlights, with their thick, imperfect, handmade glass, were the only sign that there might be a crew within. The submarine had been there for months, practicing for its crucial mission and waiting patiently for flat seas.

Its bow carried the source of its destructive power. The torpedoes of the time were simple stationary bombs, very different from the modern, independent devices that can propel themselves through the water from a great distance. On the deck of the USS Housatonic , sailors gazed out over a flat sea.

The Housatonic was just one of many Union ships that had been prowling the waters outside Charleston for months, and tonight, like every other night, the silence was punctuated by the sounds of Union artillery. A sailor on watch aboard the Housatonic spotted the sliver of dark metal hull exposed above the surface of the water and alerted others, but submarines were new technology and the men did not understand the deadly shape in the water.

But the submarine remained undeterred. One of the three thin metal rods protruding from the leading face of the bomb depressed slightly against the wooden hull.

The rod smashed against the pressure-sensitive caps inside the charge, and they released a fiery inferno. As the black powder exploded, the copper casing ripped open, releasing the fearsome pressures of explosive black powder into the water and against the wooden hull of the Housatonic. Rachel Lance will share new details about the lives of the crew members who perished on board the Hunley and answer audience questions in this virtual lecture on October 27 at 7 p.

A spray of shattered wood planks burst upward from the deck of the ship. The force of the blast rippled through the entire ship, and even the sailors at the bow nearly feet away instantly understood that their vessel would soon be on the ocean floor.

As the crew scattered to save themselves, the metal hull of the submarine silently disappeared. Those in Charleston awaiting the return of the Hunley , hoping to celebrate its successful mission, never saw it again.

One hundred and thirty-six years later, in , in a massive custom-built water tank, archaeologists clad in protective coveralls and wearing respirators sorted patiently through the muck and silt that had slowly filled the hull of the submarine as it lay on the bottom of the ocean floor. The crew of the Hunley , however, looked quite different. Each man was still seated peacefully at his station. To save time, every day he wore the same type of black polo shirt, with black or gray cargo hiking pants that zipped off at the knee, and the same heavy black lace-up combat boots.

About half the students worked on car crashes, and the other half, including me, focused on explosions. In the Waves tells the story of how a determined scientist cracked the case of the first successful—and disastrous—submarine attack. Most of my medical cases were from sailors injured during the Second World War. I combed through dozens of reports a day, looking for those in which a physician reported enough information to let me model the blast. The stories were usually the same: feeling of a sharp kick to the groin, with a stabbing pain in the gut.

Sometimes they would immediately vomit blood, sometimes they would have sudden and uncontrollable bloody diarrhea. Both are signs of severe trauma to the intestinal tract. Sometimes they would start coughing up blood, a sign of damage to the lungs. All of us knew that sound. If the boots kept going, we kept working.

But sometimes we heard the boots stop a few steps past a door, pause and then reverse. This meant Dale had an idea. Today, the boots stopped for me. Whatever he was talking about, assuming it was a boat of some kind, the Navy blast software I had been using could probably model it.

I pulled up a new browser window on my computer and began to investigate what I had signed up for. People are born with the instinct to fight against their own death, to struggle with their last breath against even the most unavoidable and uncompromising ends.

And that universal instinct is why the Hunley case fascinates. The museum exhibits offer four theories: 1 that the torpedo damaged the hull and sank the boat, 2 that the crew was somehow trapped inside, 3 that the submarine collided with another object and sank, or 4 that a lucky shot fired from the crew of the Housatonic struck the captain.

Any of these theories would require that the crew members, with ample time to see their own deaths coming, chose to spend their last moments nobly in peace, seated at their stations. But that would defy human nature. Something killed these men. Something that left no trace on the boat or their bones. If people near a bomb die, I always suspect some kind of effect from the bomb first. That is a lot of powder. It was ultimately determined the Hunley was owned by the United States government. To protect the vessel from looters and ensure the appropriate treatment of any human remains, she had to be recovered from the ocean and conserved.

Raising the Hunley from the ocean floor was a daunting task. Coordinating with the appropriate entities at the state, federal and local level required the delicate touch of someone familiar with government. Senator Glenn McConnell answered the call. He helped negotiate a contractual agreement that outlines the appropriate manner to treat the Hunley , an irreplaceable piece of American history. While Senator McConnell navigated the different government jurisdictions, someone needed to raise money and manage the actual lifting of the Hunley from the ocean floor.

Lasch, a successful businessman, became the driving force behind the project. McConnell and Lasch made an incredible team and together, they would achieve what many thought impossible.

Glenn McConnell left and Warren Lasch right. Bringing the Hunley back to land proved to be an engineering challenge of unprecedented proportions. Further complicating matters was the presence of human remains within the submarine.

To get the job done, he pulled together an international team of experts and partners, including the Department of the Navy, the National Park Service, Department of Natural Resources and Oceaneering International.