“In a single gust of wind, Sweden’s military prestige had been publicly shattered.”

By John Danielski

AUGUST 10, 1628 was a great day that the citizens of Stockholm; it was one they’d long anticipated. Over the previous three years, residents of the city had patiently watched 400 workmen constructed Sweden’s newest warship on an island opposite the Royal Palace. Now with the construction of the massive vessel completed, throngs of onlookers gathered to see if her sea-handling would match her majestic appearance.

A carnival like atmosphere took hold at the waterfront as a good portion of Stockholm’s 10,000 inhabitants, from lowliest paupers to the noble born, turned out to take in the first voyage of the mighty warship Vasa.

Foreign observers also lined the shore to see what competition this innovative fighting ship was to offer to their navies of Europe. The vessel herself carried guests too, since her first voyage was meant to be just a showy day trip.

The great military chieftain and Sweden’s King, Gustavus Adolphus ll, had proclaimed: “Second to God, the welfare of the Kingdom depends on its navy.” As such, the Vasa was to be the most powerful warship Sweden had ever built; it represented the capstone of a major naval expansion begun in 1620. That effort was intended to make the country a major player in the Baltic and beyond. And since Gustavus was involved in a war with Poland, the Vasa would likely see action very soon.

Sweden’s admirals were eager to unleash the *Vasa* in their king’s war with Poland. (Image source: WikiCommons)

Sweden’s admirals were eager to unleash the *Vasa* in their king’s war with Poland. (Image source: WikiCommons)

Loaded for Bear

The ship was built to an advanced design, although featuring a high stern castle reminiscent of an earlier age. She was the equivalent of a seven-story building with five floors. She was 226 feet long from stern post to bowsprit and 38 feet in beam. Her oak hull was 18 inches thick and the top of her main t’gallant mast reached 190 feet. She had a draft of 15 feet and boasted a 1,200-ton burden.

The Vasa was also armed to the teeth. Outfitted with two gun decks carrying 64 bronze cannon, chiefly 24 pounders with some of a newer, lighter designs, she could deliver a 753-pound broadside, unmatched by any other ship of the time.

The vessel was adorned with 500 dramatic sculptures — fine specimens of Dutch/German baroque art. The largest of these carved statues were a full two meters tall. Among them were angels, devils, imps and mermaids, as well as Roman emperors, Gothic warriors, and even some of the King’s foreign enemies, albeit portrayed as cowering under tables. The colors adorning the carvings were bright, almost garish, and seemed at odds with her intended purpose as a fighting platform. Allied to the huge gilded Swedish Lion that was her figurehead, all proclaimed the glory of the House of Vasa, Sweden’s ruling dynasty. A full 20 per cent of the ships construction budget was spent on decorations and joinery.

But just like a modern-day weapons system, military cost over-runs plagued the Vasa project. She exceeded her allotted budget by 27 per cent. In fact, her Dutch designers, the Hybertsson Brothers, actually lost money on their contract.

The *Vasa* was still within sight of the shore when disaster struck. (Image source: WikiCommons)

The *Vasa* was still within sight of the shore when disaster struck. (Image source: WikiCommons)

Putting to Sea

But all that was forgotten that bright summer’s afternoon in 1628, when the Vasa first put to sea. As she sailed out at 4 pm, her yardarms were awash in colorful bunting, a host of noble banners and flags fluttered slightly atop her masts and stern. Bands played, her cannons fired a salute, and people cheered themselves hoarse as sailors set three of her ten sails and she glided into the cold waters of the Baltic.

There was almost no wind that afternoon, so the Vasa’s rudder did not bite, making her hard to control. The captain noted she was handling drunkenly and rolling badly, almost like a sailor after too much rum.

Just 10 minutes into the voyage, things began to go wrong. A sharp gust of wind hit and the Vasa rolled dangerously. The passengers were alarmed, but the ship righted herself. Five minutes later, a second, more powerful gust hit. This time, she heeled over to a 60-degree angle. She would never recover. Dangerously off-balance, the Vasa continued heeling and swiftly transitioned to a 17-degree angle, far beyond the point of no return.

A lone seaman, who historians have called only Helge, grabbed hold of a ringbolt in front of his cannon. He braced his feet as water poured in through the gun port and the severe list of the ship sent objects sliding crazily across the lower gun deck. The sailor pushed himself off and lunged toward the companionway to escape but lost his footing and was thrown sideways. He hit his head against a deck beam, fell and became wedged between his cannon and the hull. The last things he likely saw and heard was a cascade of roaring seawater. When his body was recovered 337 years later, his feet were still in his shoes. A portion of his brain was visible through his crushed skull.

For the crowds watching helplessly from the shore, the joy of the day ended with a collective gasp of horror. They looked on as water rushed in through all of the open gun ports on her lowest tier; the openings had been designed to sit less than five feet above the waterline. All of Vasa’s forward motion stopped as the water accumulated in the hull. Moments later, she began to sink, bow first. Finally, only her quarterdeck and stern remained about the water.

Within minutes, the Vasa disappeared beneath the waves, taking 50 of her crew of 133 with her. Only the tips of her masts marked her grave 18 fathoms below. The maiden voyage had lasted fewer 20 minutes; she’d sailed less a nautical mile. In a single gust of wind, Sweden’s military prestige had been publicly shattered.

Vasa by Airfix

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