The Oklahoma Triangle

Here's a Vile Vortex you never heard of: The Oklahoma Triangle is a mythical geographic area located in the South Central region of the United States. It is noted for an apparent high incidence of unexplained losses of houses, small boats on trailers, light trucks, and automobiles.

Many a homeowner in the Oklahoma Triangle has come home to find empty foundations where their house used to sit. Skeptics and debunkers point out that at the times of most all of those weird disappearances, a tornado (or several) was observed in the vicinity.

However, open-minded psychic investigators know that you can never be sure it was the tornadoes, just like you can never be sure there's no invisible, odorless miniature elephant hiding in your refrigerator. It would be unlikely for so many houses to be lifted by tornadoes, so it's much more rational to assume that the Martians got them.

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. Let the sunshine in.

Svartskog

Svartskog, 1921. 

The Norwegian bark Svartskog vanished in or near the Bermuda Triangle in the first three months of 1921. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, p. 79.) Gaddis misspells the name Svartskag. (Gaddis, Invisible Horizons, p. 140.) However, Svartskog is a village in Norway, so that would appear to be the correct spelling. 

The winter of 1920–21 was one of the worst on record in the North Atlantic. Winds at times reached hurricane force. There were two particularly furious storms that lasted three days each, from February 6, 1921, and from February 15, 1921. 

A number of ships made port only after sustaining serious damage, so it is reasonable to expect other, less lucky ones to have sunken. (The mystics of course always turn this argument on its head and ask why not all ships survive a storm if some did. Surely, it must have been the Martians…) 

Winer describes how hurricane-force winds from the Arctic would coat superstructures with ice until ships became so top-heavy they were capsized by the towering waves, with lifeboats and rafts frozen to them so they could not be launched or float free and any survivors in the water freezing to death in mere minutes. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, pp. 79.) 

The Svartskog was one of a number of ships claimed by the Bermuda Triangle in late 1920 and early 1921. The record number of vanishing ships aroused suspicions that Russian reds were hijacking ships and sailing them to soviet ports. When government investigators realized how severe the storms had been, investigations ceased. 

While most or all of those ships were probably really storm victims, it is of course not impossible that some ships were hijacked by communists. A correspondent of The Washington Post saw several ships with their names painted out in Vladivostok. (Group, p. 36.) However, I tend to think those may very well have been Russian ships that had their tsarist names painted out, pending renaming with, uh, "good socialist/communist" names.

Finally, those ships not sunk by storms may be victims of insurance fraud.

"The commercial morality of the world seems to have been markedly lowered as a result of the war," said one underwriter today, when asked for an explanation of the situation. "The demand for bottoms after the armistice raised shipping to unprecedented values. Insurance valuations increased correspondingly. Then the slump came and values were lowered and owners faced tremendous losses, but insurance policies continued at an artificially high mark. What we term 'moral risk' naturally increased and sinkings began. That is our notion how it all came about." ("Suggests Storms Sank Lost Mystery Ships," The New York Times, June 24, 1921.)

Steinsund

Steinsund, 1921.

The Norwegian bark Steinsund vanished in or near the Bermuda Triangle in the first three months of 1921. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, p. 79.)

The winter of 1920–21 was one of the worst on record in the North Atlantic. Winds at times reached hurricane force. There were two particularly furious storms that lasted three days each, from February 6, 1921, and from February 15, 1921.

A number of ships made port only after sustaining serious damage, so it is reasonable to expect other, less lucky ones to have sunken. (The mystics of course always turn this argument on its head and ask why not all ships survive a storm if some did. Surely, it must have been the Martians…)

Winer describes how hurricane-force winds from the Arctic would coat superstructures with ice until ships became so top-heavy they were capsized by the towering waves, with lifeboats and rafts frozen to them so they could not be launched or float free and any survivors in the water freezing to death in mere minutes. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, pp. 79.)

The Steinsund was one of a number of ships claimed by the Bermuda Triangle in late 1920 and early 1921. The record number of vanishing ships aroused suspicions that Russian reds were hijacking ships and sailing them to soviet ports. When government investigators realized how severe the storms had been, investigations ceased.

While most or all of those ships were probably really storm victims, it is of course not impossible that some ships were hijacked by communists. A correspondent of The Washington Post saw several ships with their names painted out in Vladivostok. (Group, p. 36.) However, I tend to think those may very well have been Russian ships that had their tsarist names painted out, pending renaming with, uh, "good socialist/communist" names.

Finally, those ships not sunk by storms may be victims of insurance fraud.

"The commercial morality of the world seems to have been markedly lowered as a result of the war," said one underwriter today, when asked for an explanation of the situation. "The demand for bottoms after the armistice raised shipping to unprecedented values. Insurance valuations increased correspondingly. Then the slump came and values were lowered and owners faced tremendous losses, but insurance policies continued at an artificially high mark. What we term 'moral risk' naturally increased and sinkings began. That is our notion how it all came about." ("Suggests Storms Sank Lost Mystery Ships," The New York Times, June 24, 1921.)

Florino

Florino, 1921. 

The Norwegian bark Florino vanished in or near the Bermuda Triangle in the first three months of 1921. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, p. 79.) Given the same ship type and nationality and the similar names, she may be the same ship as the one that entered the triangular rolls under the name Flonine or Fionine. 

What's more, Gaddis mentions a ship by the name of Entine Florina as a Bermuda Triangle victim of the 1920–21 flap of vanishings, which sounds similar enough to Florino to likely be one and the same. (Gaddis, Invisible Horizons, p. 140.) Others even split that name into two ships. Thus, we cannot ignore the possible worst case scenario, however unlikely, that we're dealing with five distinct triangular victims: Fionine, Flonine, Florino, Florina, and Entine. At the other end of the complexity spectrum, they may all be spelling variations of the same ship. 

The winter of 1920–21 was one of the worst on record in the North Atlantic. Winds at times reached hurricane force. There were two particularly furious storms that lasted three days each, from February 6, 1921, and from February 15, 1921. 

A number of ships made port only after sustaining serious damage, so it is reasonable to expect other, less lucky ones to have sunken. (The mystics of course always turn this argument on its head and ask why not all ships survive a storm if some did. Surely, it must have been the Martians…) 

Winer describes how hurricane-force winds from the Arctic would coat superstructures with ice until ships became so top-heavy they were capsized by the towering waves, with lifeboats and rafts frozen to them so they could not be launched or float free and any survivors in the water freezing to death in mere minutes. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, pp. 79.) 

The Florino was one of a number of ships claimed by the Bermuda Triangle in late 1920 and early 1921. The record number of vanishing ships aroused suspicions that Russian reds were hijacking ships and sailing them to soviet ports. When government investigators realized how severe the storms had been, investigations ceased. 

While most or all of those ships were probably really storm victims, it is of course not impossible that some ships were hijacked by communists. A correspondent of The Washington Post saw several ships with their names painted out in Vladivostok. (Group, p. 36.) However, I tend to think those may very well have been Russian ships that had their tsarist names painted out, pending renaming with, uh, "good socialist/communist" names.

Finally, those ships not sunk by storms may be victims of insurance fraud.

"The commercial morality of the world seems to have been markedly lowered as a result of the war," said one underwriter today, when asked for an explanation of the situation. "The demand for bottoms after the armistice raised shipping to unprecedented values. Insurance valuations increased correspondingly. Then the slump came and values were lowered and owners faced tremendous losses, but insurance policies continued at an artificially high mark. What we term 'moral risk' naturally increased and sinkings began. That is our notion how it all came about." ("Suggests Storms Sank Lost Mystery Ships," The New York Times, June 24, 1921.)

Flonine

Flonine, November 25, 1920.

The Norwegian bark Flonine sailed from Hampton Roads on November 25, 1920, and vanished in or near the Bermuda Triangle. (Spencer, p. 108.) She was bound for Copenhagen. According to The New York Times, the name is spelled Fionine, which sounds more like a name than Flonine. ("Divided as to Theory about Missing Ships," The New York Times, June 22, 1921.)

I mean, Flonine sounds more like some competition for Drano. The Flow Seven and Flow Eight formulas failed, but Flow Nine gets the drain cleaned. Fionine is probably some diminutive of Fiona. Or her name was really Flonine, and the reporter changed it as he thought the same as I.

Given the same ship type and nationality and the similar names, she may be the same ship as the one that entered the triangular rolls under the name Florino.

The winter of 1920–21 was one of the worst on record in the North Atlantic. Winds at times reached hurricane force. There were two particularly furious storms that lasted three days each, from February 6, 1921, and from February 15, 1921.

A number of ships made port only after sustaining serious damage, so it is reasonable to expect other, less lucky ones to have sunken. (The mystics of course always turn this argument on its head and ask why not all ships survive a storm if some did. Surely, it must have been the Martians…)

Winer describes how hurricane-force winds from the Arctic would coat superstructures with ice until ships became so top-heavy they were capsized by the towering waves, with lifeboats and rafts frozen to them so they could not be launched or float free and any survivors in the water freezing to death in mere minutes. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, pp. 79.)

The Flonine was one of a number of ships claimed by the Bermuda Triangle in late 1920 and early 1921. The record number of vanishing ships aroused suspicions that Russian reds were hijacking ships and sailing them to soviet ports. When government investigators realized how severe the storms had been, investigations ceased.

While most or all of those ships were probably really storm victims, it is of course not impossible that some ships were hijacked by communists. A correspondent of The Washington Post saw several ships with their names painted out in Vladivostok. (Group, p. 36.) However, I tend to think those may very well have been Russian ships that had their tsarist names painted out, pending renaming with, uh, "good socialist/communist" names.

Finally, those ships not sunk by storms may be victims of insurance fraud.

"The commercial morality of the world seems to have been markedly lowered as a result of the war," said one underwriter today, when asked for an explanation of the situation. "The demand for bottoms after the armistice raised shipping to unprecedented values. Insurance valuations increased correspondingly. Then the slump came and values were lowered and owners faced tremendous losses, but insurance policies continued at an artificially high mark. What we term 'moral risk' naturally increased and sinkings began. That is our notion how it all came about." ("Suggests Storms Sank Lost Mystery Ships," The New York Times, June 24, 1921.)

Yute

Yute, November 17, 1920.

The Spanish 2,974-ton steamer Yute sailed from Baltimore on November 14, 1920. On November 17, she radioed for help, giving her position as 240 miles off the New Jersey coast, southeast of Cape May. Rescue vessels found no trace of her. (Spencer, p. 108.) She was bound for Dunkirk. ("More Ships Added to Mystery List," The New York Times, June 22, 1921.)

The winter of 1920–21 was one of the worst on record in the North Atlantic. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, pp. 79.)

More details from the time it happened: 

The sixty-mile gale yesterday, accompanied during a part of the day by rain, caused a number of minor accidents on land and sea, and delayed the shipping entering and leaving the harbor, but did not do any serious damage. The United States Weather Bureau records showed that the wind was blowing at fifty-six miles an hour by 10 o'clock yesterday morning, and dropped to forty miles at noon, and reached its maximum of sixty miles velocity at 4 o'clock. Toward night the wind shifted to the northwest and dropped to thirty miles before 8 o'clock. The prospect for today is diminishing northwest winds and fair weather. 

During the forenoon four appeals for aid from ships in distress were received at the Naval Radio Station. The first came from the Spanish freighter Yute, Baltimore to Dunkirk, disabled 240 miles east-southeast of Cape May, NJ. The United Sates Coast Guard cutter Seneca was sent to her assistance finally and towed the Yute into port. ("Storm Winds Blow on Land and on Sea," The New York Times, November 18, 1920.)

Now, that towed into port thing would be a zinger if it was true. But probably the reporter was just rash in assuming that she had been successfully salvaged. After all, the Yute wasn't added to the triangular rolls by Bermuda Triangle writers, but by further newspaper articles and government investigators, which would be less likely to make mistakes than our sensationalist friends.

I'll have to check that with other papers and Lloyd's if I get around to it. Either way, the mystery is solved, as the Yute was damaged or lost, whichever it was, in a storm.

The Yute was one of a number of ships claimed by the Bermuda Triangle in late 1920 and early 1921. The record number of vanishing ships aroused suspicions that Russian reds were hijacking ships and sailing them to soviet ports. When government investigators realized how severe the storms had been, investigations ceased.

While most or all of those ships were probably really storm victims, it is of course not impossible that some ships were hijacked by communists. A correspondent of The Washington Post saw several ships with their names painted out in Vladivostok. (Group, p. 36.) However, I tend to think those may very well have been Russian ships that had their tsarist names painted out, pending renaming with, uh, "good socialist/communist" names.

Finally, those ships not sunk by storms may be victims of insurance fraud.

"The commercial morality of the world seems to have been markedly lowered as a result of the war," said one underwriter today, when asked for an explanation of the situation. "The demand for bottoms after the armistice raised shipping to unprecedented values. Insurance valuations increased correspondingly. Then the slump came and values were lowered and owners faced tremendous losses, but insurance policies continued at an artificially high mark. What we term 'moral risk' naturally increased and sinkings began. That is our notion how it all came about." ("Suggests Storms Sank Lost Mystery Ships," The New York Times, June 24, 1921.)