Hewitt

Hewitt, January 20, 1921.

The steamer Hewitt sailed from Sabine, Texas, for Boston, Massachusetts, and Portland, Maine, on January 20, 1921. She was carrying sulfur. After passing through the Straits of Florida, she was heard from for one last time from near Jupiter Inlet, Florida. (Group, p. 36.)

According to Spencer, her final reported position was about 250 miles north of Jupiter Inlet. (Spencer, p. 108.) Not exactly near, given the distances involved. Depending on whether they're nautical, 250 miles is somewhere off Jacksonville, at the northern end of Florida.

Berlitz claims the Hewitt was sailing from New York to Europe via the Bermuda Triangle. (Berlitz, Without a Trace, p. 24.) This again reflects more on the quality of Berlitz' "work" than on the course of the Hewitt.

The 5,399 GRT Hewitt was built in 1914 as the Pacific by Fore River for the Emery Steamship Company. She had a sister Atlantic, which was renamed Wilmore, torpedoed, and lost in 1917.

It has been suggested that the Hewitt was the mystery steamer that the crew of the Lookout Shoals Lightship observed on Saturday, January 29, allegedly tailing the schooner Carroll A. Deering just before the crew of the latter vanished. That mystery steamer ignored the lightship's signals and had a tarp draped over her side to obscure her name. The steamer may have picked up the schooner's crew after they abandoned her, or she may have hijacked her outright. (Kusche, Bermuda Triangle Mystery, pp. 68.) But as the Hewitt was northbound while the mystery steamer was southbound, that doesn't seem to make a lot of sense. (Simpson, p. 111.)

The Hewitt 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.

The Hewitt may have sunk in one of the two Atlantic storms from February 6 to 9 and from February 15. However, Group points out that then the question remains why nothing was heard from her in the meantime. (Group, p. 36.)

Apparently, Group failed to make the connection with another bit of his own research. On the next page, in the context of the Carroll A. Deering, he mentions a gale that raged at Cape Lookout for two days before it abated on January 29. (Group, p. 37.)

That's a time and place where the Hewitt was expected to be, for she was suspected of being the mystery steamer seen from the Lookout Shoals Lightship on January 29. Thus, it is possible that the Hewitt went down in this earlier storm without one having to assume she spent time in limbo somehow.

Spencer, to his credit, makes that connection, if reluctantly. (Spencer, p. 108.) So does Simpson. (Simpson, pp. 110.) And if she was last seen or heard from off Jacksonville, she was well on her way to Cape Lookout.

Then again, her sulfur cargo may have exploded. On February 1 at 2 AM, Coast Guardsmen at Absecon Light in Atlantic City, New Jersey, noticed "a vivid flash of light at sea, followed by an explosion." Powerboats found no wreckage or distress signals. At dawn, a seaplane joined the search, but didn't find anything, either. (Simpson, p. 17.)

As a postscript, during the Deering investigation, a crewmember of the Hewitt, one B.O. Rainey, cropped up. However, he claimed he left the ship before she sailed from Texas. 

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.)

General Morne

General Morne, October 19, 1920.

The British schooner General Morne sailed from Lisbon, Portugal, for Newfoundland on October 19, 1920, and vanished. (Spencer, p. 108.)

The winter of 1920–21 was one of the worst on record in the North Atlantic. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, pp. 79.) That, however, is quite irrelevant in this case, as her course was not even close to the Bermuda Triangle. If you include the General Morne among the triangular victims, you have to include every ship that ever vanished in the North Atlantic. Thus, whether a storm got her or not, the case is solved for our purposes.

The General Morne 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.)

Albyan

Albyan, October 1, 1920.

The Russian bark Albyan sailed from Norfolk on October 1, 1920, and vanished in or near the Bermuda Triangle. (Spencer, p. 108.) She was bound for Gothenberg (Gothenburg, Sweden?). ("More Ships Added to Mystery List," The New York Times, June 22, 1921.) Simpson calls her the Albyn and asserts that while she was claimed to be a free Russian ship that refused to recognize the soviet government, she was in fact a Finnish four-masted bark from Nystad, and indeed bound for Gothenburg, Sweden. (Simpson, p. 113.)

The winter of 1920–21 was one of the worst on record in the North Atlantic. (Winer, Devil's Triangle, p. 79.) From the weather maps: A southern storm passed over the Eastern Seaboard through October 1, the day the Albyan sailed. It looks like she sailed after the worst was over in Norfolk, but she may have found that it was worse than expected at sea. If she made it through the ass end of that one, Horta in the Azores reported a strong gale (force 9) on October 17.

The Albyan 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.)

William O'Brien

William O'Brien, April 18, 1920.

The William O'Brien was a 2,850-ton (sources disagree) steamer of the France and Canada Steamship Company that sailed from New York for Rotterdam on April 14, 1920. The next day she put back into New York. The captain reported he had had trouble with the crew.

She sailed again on April 16. Whether the unruly crew had been disciplined or replaced is not known. (Group, pp. 35.) Simpson reports the captain replaced the chief engineer. (Simpson, p. 120.)

On or about April 18, the steamer Baltic received a radio message from the O'Brien that the latter was 500 miles east of the Delaware River and required assistance. (Spencer, p. 107.) She had been hit by raging storms and lost a hatch cover. The message or the manner it was sent aroused suspicion that it had been altered. (Group, p. 35.) When the rescuers got there, the O'Brien was gone.

Spencer claims she was a wooden-hulled ship, although new. (Spencer, p. 107.) Even if she had not lost a hatch cover, wooden hulls and steam engines do not mix in oceangoing vessels. Given the vibrations and stresses, she may easily have sprung a leak without further provocation if she had a wooden hull.

It doesn't look like she really was a wooden ship, though: She was a modern steel-hulled oil burner launched in 1915 at New York Shipbuilding. That's probably a misunderstanding due to the fact that she was at a time intended as a lumber carrier (though at the time of her sinking she was carrying coal). Somebody apparently mistook a ship built for carrying lumber for one built out of lumber.

While we're at it, here's the full article I just linked.

NEW YORK, April 19. — The steamer William O'Brien, which reported yesterday she was in distress 500 miles east of Philadelphia, is taking water rapidly, according to a radio message received here today. The message was relayed by the liner Baltic, which left here Saturday for Liverpool, but there was nothing to indicate the Baltic was nearby. 

The O'Brien, operated by the France and Canadian Steamship corporation, is an oil burner of 3,143 tons and carries a crew of 40. She left here last Thursday with 6,500 tons of coal for Rotterdam. ("Ocean Liner Is Sinking," The Miami News, April 19, 1920.)

Either way, three months later, the mother of a crewman got a postcard from France, allegedly in her son's handwriting, that said he had been on a ship with Edsel Ford. When it was found that Ford had been in Detroit at that time, the matter was judged a hoax. (Spencer, p. 107.)

During the Carroll A. Deering investigation, the NYPD claimed they had uncovered a plot by the United Russian Workers of the United States and Canada to ship out on steamers, mutiny, and sail them to soviet ports. (Kusche, Bermuda Triangle Mystery, p. 70.)

By itself, this case is not mysterious. The O'Brien probably really lost a hatch cover and was swamped in a storm. That tended to happen back when hatch covers were from wood and canvas.

What makes it interesting is the claims about the trouble with the crew, the "altered" radio message, communists, and the postcard, which lend themselves well to conspiracy theories. Yet that's what it is — only claims.

For now, the facts look like this:

LONDON, April 27. The White Star liner Baltic has arrived at Liverpool. She reported that in mid-Atlantic during a gale she received a wireless summons from the steamer William O'Brien, reporting that the hatch covers had gone, and that she was making water rapidly. The Baltic immediately steamed to her assistance, but the wireless messages became undecipherable, except for the word "sinking," repeated several times. Other vessels also searched the spot, but found no trace of the vessel or her crew. ("An Ocean Tragedy," The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania), May 1, 1920.)

Not one hatch was gone, but the plural. The O'Brien was making water rapidly. And she radioed she was sinking.

Once I find an article on what was supposed to be fishy about that message, I'll post it here. Stay tuned.