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Instead of grousing, marine archaeologists should welcome a golden opportunity—literally. They could be teaming up with salvors who now know how to retrieve treasures that would make Midas salivate. Instead, the only thing the archaeologists seem to do is cavil and complain, taking a holier-than-thou attitude rather than boldly grasping the nettle.
With modern sonar equipment, salvors can now locate a wreck a half mile or more below the sea’s surface. When they get the right kind of bleep, they bring in their high-resolution sonar. A tethered robot with bright lights and a video camera can then go down for an even closer look, sending signals up to a monitor on the salvor’s ship.
Deepwater exploration often takes years and costs millions of dollars, and it may or may not produce results. It is a venture far beyond the capacities of almost all professional marine archaeologists.
In one recent case, salvors explored more than 1,200 square miles of the Atlantic seabed before finding the prize—what they believe to be the S.S. Republic. The decade-long hunt involved exploring not only the seabed but also the history books. During the Civil War, the ship was seized by the Confederate navy as a blockade runner. When the North captured New Orleans, the Republic was in the dock. It was then fitted with big guns and used as the flagship in a campaign up the Mississippi River that successfully split the Confederacy in two. After the war, the vessel was sold and retrofitted as a passenger and cargo ship. The new owner named it the Republic. In 1865, the ship set sail on a regular run from New York to New Orleans, but this time it hit a storm off the Georgia coast. After struggling for two days against hurricane winds and huge waves, the Republic lost her pumps, seawater poured into the hold, and the ship went down. Only 42 people survived. The cargo included, according to the Republic’s captain at the time, “$400,000 in specie,” mostly gold coins. Today they would be worth as much as $150 million.
With a prize of that magnitude, it would seem easy to make a deal between salvors and archaeologists who want to ensure that appropriate archaeological procedures are used. Professional marine archaeologists could be part of the team. They could draw and map the conditions in which the ship was found, and they could continue to study the wreck site as it is being excavated. They could participate in the actual excavation. When the cargo and parts of the vessel are brought to the surface, they could assure that they are properly conserved and then published in a fully scientific archaeological report—and be well-paid for their efforts.
This is one instance in which professional marine archaeologists and what the archaeological establishment calls looters have the same interests. As Greg Stemm, the founder of Odyssey Marine Exploration (a company based in Tampa, Florida), which excavated the Republic, told the New York Times, “It’s enlightened self-interest that compels us to do good scientific work [because that] will enhance the value of the collection [of coins].”
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The response of John D. Broadwater, a professional marine archaeologist with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, was typical: “Everybody says they’re going to do the right thing, but often it doesn’t work out that way … It’s the years of analysis and conservation and preparation of a detailed report that usually trip people up.”
Well, if there’s not a deal to be made here, I’ve never heard of one. Why doesn’t the archaeological community set standards and offer assistance instead of doing nothing but criticize?
So Stemm plans to do it on his own, insisting that his work will meet or exceed academic standards. “Our actions will speak very loudly to critics who say the private sector can’t do good archaeology.”
In another recent case, salvors recovered over 10,000 pieces of Chinese porcelain and pottery from the Ming and Song dynasties on a sunken vessel in deep coral reefs off the Philippine coast in the South China Sea. The salvors had explored 16 sites over six or seven years before finding this wreck. According to the New York Times, Donny L. Hamilton, president of the Institute of Nautical Archaeology at Texas A&M University, accused the salvors of “recover[ing] just what has a market value. The other material is ignored or left behind.”
With a pie this big, there’s enough for everyone, scholars included. Why isn’t Hamilton pleading to go back to the find spot—at the salvor’s expense—to do a proper excavation of what is left? And next time announce his availability beforehand?
Hamilton went on: “Along with all this porcelain, there’s a lot of metal artifacts and organic articles. These have to be conserved, and that takes a lot of time and expense.” Why isn’t Hamilton offering to field a team to do this—for a price, of course?
The salvor of the Philippine wreck, a former Marine named Phil Greco, bristled at the criticism: “They say it’s outrageous that I’m pillaging all these national treasures. But if you’re archaeologically correct, you could never ever bring this kind of show to the world.”
The New York Times quoted a photographer from National Geographic, who noted that because of criticism from the archaeological community, publications like his were reluctant to publish stories on finds like Greco’s in the Philippines lest they appear to be endorsing treasure hunting over archaeology.
But why must it be one or the other?
It doesn’t, according to the British government. The British have just concluded an agreement with Mr. Stemm’s company to excavate the H.M.S. Sussex, which went down in the 17th century off the Mediterranean coast of Gibraltar. The ship’s cargo included gold coins worth as much as $4 billion on today’s market.
The agreement between the British government and the salvors is a 107-page document that provides for the excavation to be overseen by the newly created Sussex Archaeological Executive, consisting of four members, two appointed by the British government and two appointed by the salvors. With this plan, the parties hope to assure that the excavation meets the highest archaeological standards, which are set forth at great length in the agreement.
The government and the salvors are to share in the profits. The salvors get 80 percent of the first $45 million, and then their percentage decreases until they receive 40 percent of everything over $500 million.
According to the New York Times, George Lambrick, director of the Council for British Archaeology, wondered whether the British authorities were really committed to protecting underwater heritage or were “just in it for the money.”
Even a project executed with archaeological integrity, it seems, cannot please the archaeologists. “Many archaeologists,” the New York Times notes, “abhor the sale of recovered artifacts.”
“We want this to be acceptable to everybody,” said John. C. Morris, president of Odyssey Marine Explorations. But it would appear there’s no satisfying the archaeologists.
Instead of grousing, marine archaeologists should welcome a golden opportunity—literally. They could be teaming up with salvors who now know how to retrieve treasures that would make Midas salivate. Instead, the only thing the archaeologists seem to do is cavil and complain, taking a holier-than-thou attitude rather than boldly grasping the nettle. With modern sonar equipment, salvors can now locate a wreck a half mile or more below the sea’s surface. When they get the right kind of bleep, they bring in their high-resolution sonar. A tethered robot with bright lights and a video camera can then go down […]
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