By E. O. Scharetg, Marine Claims Department, Head Office

A $3,500,000 cargo of choice salmon taken from the cold waters of Bristol Bay, Alaska, processed and canned and packed in the holds of the Diamond Knot bound for Seattle, went down in the Straits of Juan de Fuca last August when the ship was rammed by an outbound freighter, the Penn Victory. Fireman’s Fund, one of the principal underwriters, placed salvage operations under the direction of Pillsbury and Martignoni of San Francisco.

Out of the sinking of the Diamond Knot, the most disastrous collision loss to occur on the waters of the Pacific Coast, there has come about a dramatic success story of a salvage operation so engrossing that it may well find a place among the already chronicled adventures of the world’s undersea treasure hunts.

The story is dramatic because it portrays the vision and courage of the underwriters who, after sustaining a cargo loss of approximately $3,500,000, elected to appropriate a sizable fortune for a hazardous attempt to recover a portion of their heavy loss and at the same time restore to the world’s critically depleted food markets as much as possible of this cargo consisting of 7,400,000 cans of much needed Alaska salmon. The story is dramatic because it portrays the talent and ingenuity of the marine engineer, who in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, devised and directed an operation which took from the bottom of the sea a precious food cargo which otherwise would have been left to rot and waste away. The story is dramatic because it portrays the skill, daring and sheer nerve of divers, riggers, welders, crane-men and many more members of a great team who fought relentlessly against strong tides, vicious currents and other angry forces of nature which appeared determined to help keep this precious cargo in its watery grave.

Our story has its beginning in mid-August of the year, at a time when the irritable waters forming the Straits of Juan de Fuca were hidden from view by a low, almost impenetrable fog. On these waters bound for Seattle was the 5,525-ton MS Diamond Knot. In her holds was stored a rich cargo of choice salmon that had been taken from the cold waters of Bristol Bay, Alaska; processed and canned to make up a catch valued at nearly $3,500,000. Nearby was the outward bound 10,681-ton, freighter Penn Victory.

A distress call was received from these somber waters at about 2 a.m., August 14th. In answer to this call, captain and crew of the Mathilda Foss and the Foss 21, tugs of the Foss Launch and Tug Company of Tugboat Annie fame, sighted the Diamond Knot and Penn Victory at a place about six and one-half miles off Ediz Hook. In the black, swirling waters and curtain-like fog, the two disabled ships appeared as monsters locked together in a death grip, drifting west on a strong current. The Penn Victory had rammed and cut its way into the Diamond Knot at its starboard side between number two and three holds. Rescue crews fought to free the Diamond Knot and as the work went on, it was obvious the inflicted wound was fatal.

Death came fast for the Diamond Knot. She was eventually cut free from the grip of the Penn Victory. Two tow lines were fastened in an attempt to tow her away from the deep, swift waters of the Straits of Juan de Fuca to shallow, protective Crescent Bay on the Olympic peninsula. But at 9:50 a.m., the great ship was literally sucked down by the vicious currents that run their course near Tongue Point reef. In a tragic death scene, the heavily loaded ship rolled on her side and disappeared from sight under 135 feet of water. On the bottom she rested on her starboard side with her mast and tangled rigging reaching out toward the tranquil beach at Crescent Bay – not more than five hundred yards away.

A survey of salvage possibilities was ordered immediately. First at hand, however, was the important business of indemnifying those assureds who had sustained cargo losses of tremendous proportions. Among these were some of the world’s largest food processors and packers. Evidence of the good faith and service provided by the underwriters is recorded as follows: Claim in the amount of $982,258.55 was paid jointly to one of the principal assureds by the Sea Insurance Company and Fireman’s Fund who with their reinsurers shared the business for this shipper. In quick succession a second assured presented claim to Fireman’s Fund and was paid in full the amount, $2,053,365.68. Four days later the third principal assured made claim to Fireman’s Fund and was paid in the amount of $369,767.10. Each instance of payment of these large claims represented the prompt and wholehearted support of reinsuring underwriters.

There were some who felt that the death of the Diamond Knot could only have as an epilogue a still more tragic story of terrible waste. She had taken her precious food cargo with her to a place where undersea operations could only be attempted under the greatest of difficulties. The fast ebbing tides and running currents off Tongue Point were the strongest to be found in all of the Straits. It was here that the Straits narrowed to form a neck through which the waters raced back and forth from their place in the Straits of Georgia and Puget Sound and the sea. Undersea operations under such conditions could certainly end in failure.

Some found in these challenging difficulties the fighting chance to take back from the sea a veritable treasure to be valued not only in money, but in its immeasurable worth to a world in dire need of food. Among those who recognized this challenge were Richard T. Saunders, manager of our northwest marine branch, and Assistant Marine Secretary Arnold R. Bowhay. At the suggestion of Mr. Bowhay, the underwriters, with the acquiescence of all reinsurers, commissioned Walter Martignoni of Pillsbury & Martignoni, marine engineers, to direct salvage operations. Martignoni’s long, highly successful career had made him well versed in the ways of the sea, and he, above all, was capable of devising and supervising the best means of bringing the sunken treasure to the surface.

First task at hand was to securely anchor a salvage barge over the ill-fated Diamond Knot, from which operations could be directed. No easy task at best, this preliminary operation added difficulties when divers reported that the floor stretching out from the rocks off Tongue Point was formed of gravel. Anchors, no matter how large or heavy, frequently slip from their places when sunk in gravel. Martignoni and his crew supplied by the Foss Launch and Tug Co., strung from the salvage barge an elaborate network of steel-wire and iron chains to which there were attached eleven large anchors ranging in weight from 3,000 to 6,000 pounds. When these mammoth anchors were dropped into the sea, their wire and chain lines were pulled taut and made secure by four logging winches which had been placed on the far ends of the salvage barge. Obstacle one had been overcome.

The real test of ingenuity and courage remained ahead, however. Adventurous men with all their strides have devised few methods of going beneath the sea to grapple effectively with ill-fated cargoes. During his career, Martignoni had retrieved sunken cargo by putting to work the very waters that sought to hold it. It was with such a scheme he decided to pit his skill against the turbulent and possessive waters covering the Diamond Knot. He fashioned two 12-inch pipes of metal and rubber into which air would be forced, creating a siphon that would literally suck the valuable cargo from the sunken ship. Close to the underwater end of this giant siphon, below a second manifold, he designed four openings through which water at more than 150-pound pressure would, be jetted, to burst on and rip open the cartons containing the canned salmon. Once free from these cartons, it was hoped the one-pound cans would be drawn to the end of the underwater "vacuum-cleaner" to be pulled up and deposited on receiving scows held alongside the salvage barge.

There was hope in this plan, but no room for absolute confidence. Martignoni had seen the best designs of engineers made futile by a tenacious sea, and he knew there remained ahead unforeseen and unsolved problems. Precious coins and other small objects of salvage had been taken from the ocean’s floor by the siphon method, but would such operation safely raise one-pound cans of salmon? Over and above the technical problems that might be solved in diligent study, there remained to be contended with, the unpredictable, often destructive antics of weather and sea. The sky held signs of approaching winter with its strong winds that would sweep heavy seas against equipment and men. Calendars for the months to come showed fast-changing tides that in their run would buckle and tear the siphon pipeline. There was no time to lose.

Work became intense. From the Tacoma, Seattle and Port Angeles yards of Foss Launch and Tug Company, men and equipment were assembled at Crescent Bay. From California, material was obtained and hauled from which the siphon line would be fashioned. Special Navy patent underwater cutting rods to cut the steel shell plating and heavy framing of the sunken ship, were flown from Washington, D.C. To ports throughout the Pacific Coast urgent calls were sent, instructing the best available undersea divers to travel by air to the scene of the disaster. On the salvage barge had been assembled cranes with giant booms and cables to lower into place the 140-foot siphon pipes. Mammoth air compressors, jet pumps, welding machines, illumination plants, logging winches – in all, twenty-seven pieces of vital machinery with gas-driven engines were strategically placed on the barge.

Under the direction of 32-year-old master diver Arthur Walter McCray, there was added to the machinery on hand, decompression chambers, divers’ suits and helmets, miles of air and communication lines, lead belts and shoes, and all the accessories which make up the grotesque uniform that enables men to breathe and work under water. Stakes in the battle were climbing high. More than $120,000 had been expended on equipment alone. Expenses for each day added steadily several thousand dollars to the amounts already expended. There was much to lose.

McCray and his divers climbed down the ladder attached on the side of the salvage barge, to drop below the waters to the upper side of the Diamond Knot. At Martignoni’s direction, a 9 x 15 foot opening was cut through the shell plating and web frames covering lower number two hold, where 38,607 cases of salmon were stored. Martignoni’s "vacuum cleaner" was off the drafting board and held in place between the salvage and receiving barge. On deck the divers’ attendants, with the communication phones pressed hard against their ears, transmitted information from the divers below to the crane op-erators, who lowered the giant siphon. Below, the divers guided the end of the siphon into the hole made in the ship. Inside the ship, other divers had made their way to the cargo and with stevedore hooks had ripped open a number of water-soaked cartons.

Then, in the din of noise created by the powerful motors on the salvage barge, orders were given to release air into the manifold of the lowered siphon line. There was anxiety in the eyes of Martignoni and his men as they watched the great siphon pipeline twist and turn in the water under the force of air and pressure. Its long neck stretching out of the water and over the receiving barge shook from side to side. Suddenly, from this neck there exploded a charge of water and foam which glistened in the sun as it cascaded to the barge below. Then, the foam gave way to more water until finally a tremendous flow filled the entire opening of the siphon-line and geysered over the barge. In the stream were shining, gold-colored cans of salmon!

Martignoni and his men had won the first round in the battle against the sea. Ahead were sixty days and nights of the grim conflict. In the log of Captain Loring Hyde, former salvage master of the USS Discoverer and an assistant to Martignoni, were written a score of stories of the defeats and victories which followed. "…Tuesday, September 10. Strong S. W. wind and sea made up. Lines let go on receiving scow to tow into Bay for shelter. Secured siphon, unhooked cranes, lowered booms. Saturday, September 27. Tide ebbing, divers forced up. Wednesday, October 1. Sixth receiving scow with estimated 336,000 salvaged cans left for Friday Harbor. Tuesday, October 7. Sudden blow, rough sea; west siphon broken. Due to strong ebb, pipe could not be lifted. Delay of 3 to 4 hours. Monday, October 13. Twelfth scow with estimated 300,000 cans left for cannery…"

The words of Loring Hyde’s log were cold and factual, but the incidents he reported made up the despair of riggers who would sweat and toil to secure a line only to have it snapped in two by a rolling, defiant sea; the anxiety and worry of divers’ tenders who jabbered nervously through communication lines to their wards working among a thousand dangers under a wall of sea; the cold and weariness that overcame crane operators who sat in their place through long nights of piercing winds and heavy rains; the courage and stamina of barrel-chested divers who, after being forced too quickly from the sea by raging currents, were rushed into decompression chambers to escape the "bends," their most dreaded disease; the exhilaration of those who saw the fighting sea relax momentarily in battle permitting the giant siphon to pour out 200 gallons of water and 1,000 cans of salmon per minute.

Each day and night of the conflict brought Martignoni and his men closer to final victory. A second siphon was lowered into number three hold to suck at its cargo. Soon the port side of the Diamond Knot was almost cut away and the two great siphons were moved from hold to hold to take from the sea the precious cargo of food which it had almost come to regard as its own. The vision, and the courage of the underwriters were rewarded when finally two-thirds of the choice salmon was taken from the sea and hauled to canneries at Seattle, Friday Harbor in the San Juan Islands arid Semiahmoo near Blaine, Washington. Under the strict supervision of pure food authorities the rich, choice salmon was re-canned to be released to the world’s depleted food markets.

[Fireman’s Fund Archives: 4-1-3-4-60, 0411]