Contrary to Berlitz’s claim, the Coast Guard did propose several theories and possible solutions for the sinking. Among these was the suggestion that the ship may have broken in two. During its conversion to a molten sulphur carrier, bulkheads that strengthened the hull had been removed. Another possible solution mentioned by the Coast Guard is that the ship capsized in the rough seas known to be running at the time. Also mentioned was the possibility of an explosion, either from steam or from the fumes of the sulphur. The latter theory is given credence by the fact that tons of molten sulphur were known to have leaked into the ship’s bilges during previous voyages.
The loss of the Marine Sulphur Queen was certainly tragic, and the exact cause of the sinking will probably never be known. However, it is far from a mysterious occurrence. The weather was very bad and the ship suffered from at least two serious structural flaws (the removal of the bulkheads and the leaking of molten sulphur) that could have been responsible. The promoters of the triangle mystery, in their eagerness to sell sensational books, have failed to mention these facts.
Gaddis (1965), another triangle mystery proponent, described the loss of the Sandra, a freighter “350 feet in length,” in June 1950: “She disappeared as completely as if she had never existed—in the tropic dusk, in peaceful weather—just off the Florida coast” (p. 202). In fact, the length given is nearly double the ship’s actual size. The weather was not peaceful. The ship left harbor on April 5, 1950, and the Miami Herald reported on April 8, 1950 that “a storm growing from the low pressure areas which caused thundershowers and strong winds in Florida during the past three days approached hurricane force and buffeted Atlantic shipping lanes Friday…. [Winds] reached a speed of 73 miles an hour off the Virginia Capes” (Kusche 1975, p. 163). The “Friday” mentioned was April 7, two days after the Sandra left port in Savannah, Georgia. Once again, the “calm sea” picture is false—there is no mystery about this disappearance.
Berlitz (1974) even manages to place one ship in the wrong ocean. He reports the case of the Freya, which he says was found abandoned “in the Triangle area… sailing from Manzanillo, Cuba, to ports in Chile” (p. 50). In fact, the Freya was found partially dismasted and floating on her side in the Pacific Ocean off the western coast of Mexico. In reporting the incident, the British science magazine Nature reported that severe earthquakes had occurred in western Mexico for two or three days after the ship’s departure from a western Mexican port. Such quakes can cause tidal waves that “probably caused the damage to the Freya which led to its abandonment” (Nature, April 25, 1907, p. 610; cited in Kusche 1975, p. 48).
Kusche (1981) has analyzed in detail the alleged mystery of the Ellen Austin. This is an excellent example of an incident that almost certainly never occurred. Kusche’s analysis shows how reports of triangle mysteries grow as they are copied and embellished by one careless writer after another. The end product is a tale full of such specific detail that most readers will accept it as fact.
The basic story of the Ellen Austin is best given in the first version of the story that Kusche (1981) could find. The following passage is from that version, which appeared in Gould (1944).
Last, and queerest of all, comes the case of the abandoned derelict, in seaworthy condition, which the British ship Ellen Austin encountered, in mid-Atlantic, in the year 1881. She put a small prize-crew aboard the stranger, with instructions to make for St. John’s, Newfoundland, where she was bound herself. The two ships parted company in foggy weather but a few days later they met again. And the strange derelict was once more deserted. Like their predecessors, the prize crew had vanished forever.
Even after extensive research, Kusche (1975, 1981) was never able to find any evidence that the alleged incident had ever occurred. Gould—as is typical of “mysterious events” writers—gave no source for his information on the Ellen Austin . Kusche checked the indexes of the New York Times and the London Times. They contained no references to stories describing such an occurrence. The Boston Globe, the Boston Herald American and the Boston Evening Transcript were also devoid of stories on the incident. The ship was said to be bound for St. John’s, Newfoundland. The public library there could find no references to such an event in its files. The two St. John’s newspapers of the day, the Evening Telegram and The Newfoundlander, were also empty of any reports relevant to either the incident or the ship Ellen Austin . If such a strikingly unusual occurrence had taken place, it is inconceivable that it would not have been reported in at least one of the papers Kusche searched. That no such story even appeared strongly suggests that Gould made up the whole thing in the first place.
Gould’s original report contained eighty-six words. The word count grows over the years as the story is copied from one Bermuda Triangle author to another, none ever bothering to check whether the event really occurred as described. Vincent Gaddis’s (1965, p. 131) version of the story contains 188 words and is marked by much detail that was not present in Gould’s (1944) original report. Thus, for example, when the Ellen Austin’s captain saw the derelict for the second time, it was “pursuing an erratic course. He ordered the helmsman to approach the derelict. When there was no response a boarding party was sent over. To a man the frightened remaining sailors refused to join another prize crew.”
Where did these additional details come from? Gaddis references only Gould’s original (1944) report, but since these details are not in Gould, Gaddis must simply have made them up to make the story sound better.
Sanderson (1970) reports the incident in 429 words and much new detail emerges. He mentions a temporary log kept by the prize crew, for example. Sanderson’s version is an embellishment of Gaddis’s version, which in turn is an embellishment of Gould’s version.
In his 1974 The Bermuda Triangle Mystery , Berlitz described the Ellen Austin mystery in a spare 172 words. But an amazing thing happened between 1970 (Sanderson’s version) and 1974. In Berlitz’s version, a second prize crew is persuaded to go aboard, and they vanish along with the derelict. Berlitz cites as sources both Sanderson (1970) and Gaddis (1965). Obviously, the story of the second prize crew is pure fiction made up by Berlitz to enhance the mystery.
Ships are not the only things at risk in the Bermuda Triangle. Aircraft of all sorts, we are told by the mythmongers, run the risk of mysteriously winking out of existence if they dare fly in or near the triangle. The reports of aircraft disappearances in the triangle are of the same low reliability as reports of disappearing ships. Relevant facts are withheld from readers and fictional details are added. It is largely because of such fictional additions that one of the missing aircraft stories has become the most famous of all the Bermuda Triangle legends. This is the case of Flight 19.
Flight 19 consisted of five U.S. Army Air Corps Avenger aircraft. These were designed as carrier-based torpedo planes and carried a crew of three. The flight was under the command of Lt. Charles C. Taylor. It left Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Naval Air Station on December 5, 1945, at about 2 P.M. The flight plan called for a course eastward, then a turn to the north, followed about seventy miles later by a turn to the southwest to bring the flight back to base.
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