AFTER several mentions of marine archaeologists in recent columns, I have been asked to explain what they do. Let’s walk through a typical case study and get into his or her world.
Back in the 1600s, a ship went down in a storm off the coast of Saipan. Our marine archaeologist, “Rich,” interviewed several fishermen who had lost nets where they should not have and after diving the site, concluded that the debris field on the ocean floor could be the remains of the missing vessel. Upon learning of the wreck location, he dug through his home library and started sending emails. He made connections in the Philippines and Saipan, the origin and final resting place of the vessel. In discussions with his university, who agreed to finance the operation, he put together a plan to study the wreck on site. It was agreed that any artifacts removed became property of the university and would be displayed in the museum on campus. Because they assumed the risks, they would receive the rewards. The archaeologist continued to receive his regular pay from the university and might supplement that by writing a book on the wreck and its recovery.
The university provided funding and a crew of archaeologists dove on the site daily. The first task was to film everything. They took thousands of pictures by day and studied them at night. The pictures answered such questions as: How did the ship sink? Bow-first or by the stern? Are there remains of the crew? What is the condition of the ship? Could it be raised if it becomes desirable to do so?
Then the entire site was laid over with a grid so that the work could progress without unnecessary movement or duplication of effort. Each square of the grid was systematically cleaned out and studied.
After several months the work was complete. The wreck was surveyed, the sailors’ remains were handed over to their families, several artifacts were brought up and given to the museum, and the archaeologist started writing a book describing the whole endeavor. He hopes that the book will sell well. Perhaps a television special will be made. That will help him recoup some of his costs.
It would be overly simplistic to say the archaeologist is simply advancing knowledge. He must earn a living and he has backers that expect certain things. But his discipline, his chosen occupation, has standards he must follow or he will be run out. Universities, one of the largest employers of marine archaeologists, cannot afford to have their reputations sullied by bad behavior in the field. It is a small community and word travels fast these days.
Because treasure hunters have acquired a bad reputation in recent times, many hunting outfits have hired marine archaeologists to lend credibility to what they do. They are there to assure us that the work is being done according to strict scientific standards and that we will learn as much from the wreck as we can. But in reality he is window dressing. The work being conducted by such outfits is driven by the profit motive, and likely the treasure will be divided and sold off to private investors, doomed to sit on the shelf of a wealthy patron’s home, a curious conversation piece at cocktail parties. The public may never see the pieces again, and any chance of learning something valuable from the find is lost.
Marine archeologists know there is more to a wreck than loot. They love what they do. Upon locating an old Spanish ship, one explorer demanded to know, “Where is the treasure?” His partner replied, “My friend, this whole ship is a treasure!”
Dr. BC Cook taught history for 30 years and is a director and Pacific historian at Sealark Exploration (sealarkexploration.org). He currently lives in Hawaii.