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Dana Schwartz (1:05)

Welcome to Noble Blood, a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Menke. Listener discretion advised. Crowds of nobles, workers, families all poured in from the Royal palace and the streets of Stockholm, eager to finally see their king's pride and joy. In all her splendor, she was supposed to be beautiful. King Gustavus Adolphus himself was off fighting in Poland, but his presence was readily felt in that day's festivities, speeches and down at the waterfront in the beautiful visage of his beloved Vasa. August 10, 1628 was a bright day, and the sun's rays illuminated her every feature, from her meticulously carved beakhead to her gaudily painted stern castle. Yes, the Vasa was in fact a ship. But not just any ship. The Vasa was a hulking warship, the pinnacle of Swedish naval ambitions, a floating tribute to the country's bold ruler. This was the vessel that would make the Swedish Empire the masters of the Baltic Sea. But the Vasa's departure from harbor was far from majestic. With little wind to help the ship move through Stockholm harbor, Captain Sophring Hansen ordered his crew to use ropes posts along the shore and their vertical man powered winch, known as a capstan, to pull themselves along at a sea snail's pace. Nevertheless, the crowd cheered on the Vasa. After all, the warship was still a grand sight, with its double decks of bronze cannons and all of its carved sculptures and gilded adornments. The slow progression through the harbor actually allowed many onlookers to keep pace along the quay while calling out to their friends and relatives on board. At long last, the Vasa glided out away from shore. It fired a salute, and the crew set four of its 10 available sails. A gust of wind blew, and immediately the ship began heavy heeling over to its port side. Screams came from the watching crowd, as well as from some on board, especially the more inexperienced crew members and honorary guests. Captain Hansen was worried, too, knowing how bad this maiden voyage was going and how much worse it could get if his nagging fears about the ship's seaworthiness were true. But he barked orders and managed to even the Vasa's keel. If they could just complete their first leg to the Als Nebsen naval base further south in the Swedish archipelago and thereby appease the impatient orders of the king, they could hopefully make further adjustments to the ship. Then came the second gust of wind. Spoiler alert. The ship sank on its maiden voyage. We wouldn't be talking about it now if it hadn't. However, the Vasa's story did not end with its dramatic and deadly foundering. Far from it. The ship may have only sailed about 1300 meters in total, but its overarching journey, from its rushed construction to its epic failure to its unprecedented and incredible resurrection, would effectively canonize it as one of the most legendary ships to ever, even if so very briefly set sail. I'm Dana Schwartz, and this is Noble blood. For nearly 400 years now, the most common question asked about the Vasa by everyone from historians to marine archaeologists to casual observers has been, why did it sink? The answer is complicated, since it involves physical issues such as buoyancy, building materials, and weight distribution, as well as classic human flaws like hubris, fear, and miscommunication. Since the human side gives us the more psychologically compelling entry point, let's start there with the Vass creation. There were many fathers and several mothers, but no one figures as prominently as King Gustavus Adolphus. The ship was his true brainchild. Gustavus became king of Sweden in 1611 and at age 16 and had limited margin for error, since his country was so frequently at war with three of its neighbors, Denmark, Russia, and Poland. Despite some early losses, Gustavus gained a reputation as a bold warrior and commander who helped usher in an era that Swedish historians would later call the Age of Greatness, or Great Power period. Beyond outmuscling his close rivals, Gustavus strove to push Sweden into The top tier of European powerhouses. As a devout Lutheran, he even hoped to staunch the influence of the robust Catholic empires to the south. Such lofty ambitions required enhanced military might. So, eager to boost his navy's firepower and to assert his control over profitable Baltic trade routes, Gustavus sent an order to his Stockholm navy yard in 1625 to build him four new warships. Of these, the flagship was slated to be the most powerful the world has ever seen. When finished, it would have a stunning capacity for 72 bronze 24 pounders, aka cannons that shot 24 pound balls. But what to call this awe inspiring vessel? What name would elicit pride from its patriots and strike fear into its foes? How about Bundle of Sticks? That is essentially what Vasa originally meant. To be more exact, the name comes from the word vas, which was the heraldic symbol embraced by the Swedish royal family. Heading into the 17th century, it was increasingly depicted as a sheaf of wheat in their coat of arms. And the dynasty itself became known as the House of Vasa, starting with Gustavus grandfather, Gustav Erikson Vasa. Thus, by dubbing his ship Vasa, Gustavus Adolphus was, in a sense, both honoring his family and putting their reputation on the line. This looming pressure only increased during the Vasa's choppy formative years. Due to the time it took for the shipyard to communicate with the king, who was frequently off leading his army, multiple versions of the contract were circulated. This made master shipbuilder Henrik Hibertsen's job hard, to put it mildly. Quickly sourcing enough properly cut oak beams would be tricky under normal circumstances, let alone when stuck in a contract dispute with a temperamental monarch over basic ship dimensions and costs. It's worth noting that although a myth lingered for years that Gustavus continued meddling was a crucial factor in Vasa's ultimate failure. Documents show that that wasn't actually the case, at least not with the main design. Once construction began, Gustavus did not keep trying to change the specifications of the ship. His impatience simply affected the build in other ways. One crucial issue was the dissimilarities between the main shipbuilding techniques used throughout Europe during this era. Shipbuilder Henrik was trained in the Dutch style, in which workers did not rely on detailed designs or models like they did in the English style. Instead, they derived proportional measurements from basic parts of the ship, like the keel. The Dutch way saved money and time, but turned out to be far riskier when utilized in Stockholm. Under the King's urgent schedule, for example, carpenters were recruited at home and abroad and brought differently sized tools with them. Six wood rulers, all supposedly a foot long, were later located, and none of them were the same length. The Swedish ones were closer to a modern 12 inches, whereas the Dutch ones were closer to 11. Not exactly a recipe for precision. Additionally, separate construction groups worked on the port and starboard sides, which may have given the Vasa a slightly asymmetric structure. As if all that were not enough, it was tricky to judge how the immense weight of 72 cannons would affect the ship, because 72 cannons were not readily available, particularly not in the size that King Gustavus wanted. These guns had to be cast in bronze at a separate foundry in Stockholm, a task so Herculean that it was not completed. According to researchers, only 64 cannons ever actually made it onto the vasa. Then, in 1627, the Henrik fell ill and died. His wife, Margarethe Nilsdatter, took over the stressful job of running the shipyard. With departments going far over budget and a king demanding to see progress, other shipbuilders stepped in to help oversee things, along with the Vasa's future captain, sophring Hansen. In 1627, they launched the Vasa, a process where they moved the incomplete vessel to to the water to finish its upper decks, rigging and other features. During this phase, workers noticed the ship's tendency to roll over, but hopefully a seasoned captain like Hanson could manage that while sailing. As we now know, Hanson could not. And on that lightly breezy summer day in 1628, the Vasa heeled too far to port. Water rushed in, and the Vasa sank frighteningly quickly. Most crew members and passengers managed to escape, but at least 15 were trapped and drowned. The ship may not have taken on water so quickly if the gun ports, especially those on the lower deck, had been closed, but they were open because a the king wanted the might of his new warship to be on full display, and b most of the cannons that were ready in time were placed on the lower gun deck for stability's sake, and they would be difficult to reposition on short notice. Gustavus Adolphus, furious upon hearing of the Vasa's demise, called for an inquest. Captain Henson and other key figures were interrogated at the palace on September 5, 1628. Almost a month's worth of lead time allowed these officers to carefully craft their defenses. According to documents from the hearings, the defendants largely scapegoated the dead shipwright, Henrik Hibartsen and or implied that they were simply following the king's orders. So to punish them would be to question the wisdom of fearsome King Gustavus Adolphus. Still, it came out that Captain Hanson had been aware of the Vasa's flaws, to the point that he had had his crew do a demonstration for one of the Crown's vice admirals. But clearly everyone was so fearful of delivering bad news to the King that the maiden voyage went forward anyway. Ultimately, no one was found guilty of negligence and the involved officers, nobles and craftspeople all tried to move on with their careers and lives. King Gustavus Adolphus got involved in the bloody Thirty Years War and died at the Battle of Lutzen in 1632. Meanwhile, the Vasa rested at the bottom of Stockholm Harbour, seemingly doomed to a disastrous legacy and a turbid decomposition. That is, until the steady evolution of nautical technology and some long awaited luck gave the ship a chance to rise again. Only three days after the Vasa sank, Sweden's Council of the Realm granted an Englishman permission to try to salvage it. His method involved using two floating ships as pontoons and gradually tightening ropes attached to the wreck to pull it up a little, drag it to shallow waters and then repeat. His plan was sound, but unfortunately he lacked enough mechanical force. A Dutch expert tried next, as did others. At one point Captain Hansen was even tapped to lead a recovery effort. But like his stewardship of the Vasa's first voyage, his second go with the ship in its much soggier state also failed. Then in 1663 a diver named Albrecht von Trailben pitched an exciting new approach. Fortunately, the King at this time, Carl X Gustav was very interested in ships, just as Gustavus had been. So he recognized the potential when Trailben showed him an invention called the diving bell. It could not enable the lifting of the ship, but by trapping air underwater, the metallic chamber allowed Trailbend's divers to recover valuable items. Namely, thanks to Trailbend's German partners technique of using giant tongs to remove large pieces from the gun ports, the team was reportedly able to recover most of the Vasa's prized bronze cannons. After that, the Vasa was mostly ignored for centuries, with the general consensus being that the ship's materials were likely deteriorating beyond sufficient value or usefulness. Fascinatingly though, that wasn't the case. As it turns out, in many ways the conditions in Stockholm harbor were ideal for preserving a sunken ship. According to scientists, the cold, brackish, low oxygen waters of the Baltic kept certain organisms that wreak havoc on wood, like the mollusk referred to as the shipworm, from destroying the Vasa. More off puttingly, we also have the poor waste removal practices of the 17th century to thank for protecting the ship. Raw sewage dumped directly into the harbor from the city's privies may have grievously poisoned the marine environment, but in doing so, it evidently also stymied wood loving bacteria. Additionally, the ample sediment and clay of the harbor's seafloor encased many structures and portions of the hull. This shielded the Vasa from erosion, but also made it extremely difficult to lift because the ship's settling into the muddy cushion created massive amounts of suction. Fast forward to the 1950s. Yes, over 300 years after the sinking of the Vasa and a Swedish man named Anders Franzen becomes fascinated by the ship. He had served During World War II, studying shipwrecks in his spare time, and got the Braun Strom's shipping company and the Swedish navy to back a new salvage endeavor by winning over King Gustav I6th Adolf. As you may have already guessed, Sweden's recently crowned monarch was a fan of ships. If anything, we're making a strong case here that within the last four centuries you couldn't ascend to the Swedish throne and not like ships. Plus this Gustav was exceptionally passionate about archaeology in general. For his recovery plan, Anders Franzen and his team opted to combine new and old methods. They first used modern technology to shoot jets of pressurized water below the Vasa. This created tunnels through which they then threaded cables to make a sturdy cradle for the ship. This was dangerous work for divers who had to work in claustrophobic conditions, fearing that the tunnels beneath the ship might collapse on them. Eventually, though, they succeeded and the recovery team then used an incremental system of lifting the ship with pontoons and cable adjustments that was remarkably similar to the strategy attempted in the 1600s. The Vasa was gradually pulled and towed into shallower water until finally, on April 24, 1961, it emerged. Raising the Vasa onto a special pontoon platform was only part of the challenge. However, for those first couple decades, a tricky balance had to be reached between preservation and in depth study. Initially, workers had to keep spraying the ship with water to prevent drying that might lead to warping and cracking. A Swedish duo, Bertil Sinterval and Rolf Murren, then devised a clever way to preserve the structure using a substance called polyethylene glycol, or peg. When injected, this polymer replaced water while strengthening wood fibers. Fun fact. This treatment was so effective that it became standard practice with waterlogged wooden structures, including the famous English warship Mary Rose that was later salvaged. Preservation with PEG was effective, but also time consuming for detached pieces that could be submerged in this chemical mix. The process often took from a year to 18 months. The main body of the Vasa took way longer. The whole thing couldn't be dunked, so conservators had to sprinkle and inject peg continually. This took from 1961 to 1979. Finally, once the ship had been fortified, eager marine archaeologists and historians were able to start fully reconstructing and analyzing the ship. The Vasa proved to be an incredible time capsule of 17th century Swedish life at sea. At least 25,000 objects were reportedly found. Clothing, shoes, games, glassware and coins all provided glimpses at what life was like. The ship's decorations also tell quite a few story. An astonishing number of intricate carvings survived, some with traces of their original bright paint jobs. These showcased an amalgamation of artistic styles. Classic mythology, Old Testament iconography, odes to King Gustavus Adolphus and plenty of merpeople and mythical creatures. There were even carvings that poked fun at rival Polish nobles by showing them in compromising positions. Two of these were purportedly placed so they were only clearly visible to a crewman who sat on one of the ship's main two toilets. By modern standards, the intended living and working conditions on the Vasa seem pretty awful. The officers had larger cabins, but most of the crew had the ship, in theory continued its mission would have slept in dark, cramped conditions between cannons. The only daylight that those on the lower decks would have regularly seen would have filtered through cracks in the beams above. The Vasa was supposed to carry a staggering 45050 people, although it wasn't full when it sank because the soldier regiments had not yet boarded. So in one way, the fact that the ship failed so immediately actually prevented even more people from suffering and dying. Even so, as we mentioned, there were individuals who never made it off the ship. Fifteen skeletons were recovered from the Vasa wreck. It was hard to identify them, since no exact official crew lists survived. The remains still offered scientists a wealth of information, though. The group included sailors likely conscripted from coastal towns or brought on from defecting Danish and Norwegian crews. Since the first voyage of the Vasa was a festive occasion, a few women and children were were also reportedly aboard. This was reflected in the skeletons. Two of the 15 were female. Analysis of the bones also gave insight into height, age, matrilineal details and nutrition. Somewhat surprisingly, although those who had died had plenty of other apparent injuries, none seem to have been afflicted by scurvy. The remains were actually in such good condition that detailed facial reconstructions could be done and eventually one skeleton could be identified based on its age and clothing remnants. It was Hans Janssen. Janssen was an experienced captain slated to lead the Vasa, who was then replaced by Sophring Hansen. Janssen still joined the maiden voyage, though, as corroborated by officers at the inquest. The fact that even an expert captain went down with the ship shows just how terrifyingly fast it all happened. Further examination also shed more light on why the Vasa sank. A critical problem was that there were too many heavy beams, too high up the hull and too much space between decks. This, combined with apparent asymmetries and the fact the ship was actually too small to effectively carry so much cargo, made it a top heavy catastrophe waiting to happen. A catastrophe that, while highly tragic at the time, eventually also led to a stunning archaeological find that has inspired millions.