|
In
late August of 1999, VBRP’s initial group of volunteer divers began to
implement their proposed grid system. If the cannon did explode, the team
believed the cannon’s muzzle most likely marked the epicenter of that
event. With this is mind; the grid system was constructed using the
cannon’s muzzle as its center point. Under this arrangement and in the
event that additional fragments or debris were located, their distance
from the epicenter could be quickly calculated. The site’s center grid
post was placed at an arbitrary location near the muzzle, but at a
distance where the post wouldn’t interfere with any further excavations.
From there, the team laid an east-to-west baseline and continued with
their construction of the grid system.
Grid posts are slowly and
carefully embedded into the sediment to prevent accidentally damaging any
artifact that may lie underneath. Metal detection checks of grid post
sites offer an additional precaution. It was under this circumstance and
before the team placed its second grid post, that they discovered a second
artifact. The head of an ax was found fifty feet east of the cannon’s
muzzle and under a few inches of silt. Its handle had been broken, but
what remained was still securely attached to its head. We brought it up
to the boat, made some sketches, took some photos and returned it to its
original location.


The Ax Head
 |
Artifact
details. Drawn and inked by Adam Loven-
LCMM collections.
(click on the thumbnails to see a larger image) |
Once the baseline was set up,
the team could begin constructing and surveying the grids. The first
grids surveyed were the four that surrounded the cannon’s muzzle. We
started in the southwest grid but found nothing from the Revolutionary
battle. We did find “Atlantis” but it wasn’t the lost, ancient continent;
it was only the inscription on the bottom of a lost Zippo lighter. It was
the first of many modern objects of debris that we would encounter.
The southeast grid was
next. We located a six-pound cannon ball approximately
twenty feet from the
cannon. Nothing else of significance
was in the grid. We had expected to find shot - after
an intense five-hour battle, there should be plenty. Although
I was still very excited and intent on continuing with the survey,
I was beginning to become somewhat puzzled and disappointed.
If the cannon exploded, shouldn’t we be finding debris or some
evidence of a blast?
The six-pound cannon ball
Things soon changed in the
northwest grid. On the 16th of September, we found two small
iron fragments. Each was less than two inches in length and weighed only
ounces. Could they be small fragments of the cannon and our first real
indications of the blast?
We pressed on with the survey.
Further into the northwest grid, I received a strong audio signal from the
metal detector. Could it be a larger cannon fragment? I decided I’d mark
it with an anomaly post, continue with the survey, and try to determine
what it was later. As I began to embed the post, it hit something solid
and only a few inches into the sediment. I reached down, traced the
outline of a rectangular object, and carefully lifted it out of the muck.
It appeared to be a solid block of wood and not very old. Why would that
set off the metal detector? I got my answer as I began to turn it over
and several pieces of round shot began to rain out of it – I had
discovered a soldier’s cartridge box!
The
Cartridge Box
(click on the thumbnails to see a full-size image)
Out of all the artifacts that
we’ve encountered, the cartridge box was probably the most exciting for
me. But mixed with my excitement was a profound feeling of reverence. Up
until this point, most of the items we had found were impersonal articles
of warfare; cannon and shot were designed to engage an enemy at great
distance. This was different; this was an item that a soldier would have
carried upon his person and counted on in the heat of battle. From a
first navy that was in dire need of ammunition, it would have been a
treasured piece of equipment and supply. It was not an item that would
have been discarded, regardless of its owner’s fate. It was then that I
began to have a much clearer appreciation of where we actually were. We
weren’t just on a centuries-old, submerged battlefield; we were
potentially among the submerged graves of the very first American seamen,
killed in the service of their young country. An exploding cannon
wouldn’t only have serious ramifications for the ship that carried it; it
would also have ultimate consequences for many of her crew.
We
were finding ourselves among the evidence of a catastrophic event that
undoubtedly held lethal consequences for a vessel and her crew; both of
which were already imperiled in one of the most violent confrontations to
take place in the American Revolution’s northern theatre.
I continued to excavate the
site. I retrieved the pieces of shot out of the silt and placed them into
a mesh bag. Once the silt cleared away from the bag, I could see that
several pieces of flint were also among the shot. I still received an
audio signal from the metal detector when I ran it back over the
excavation. Instead of more shot, I felt a large flat piece of material
and slowly worked it up to where I could see it. It was the cartridge
boxes leather cover! It was completely intact and three impressed
initials, “GMB”, were visible upon its face. I also began to uncover and
collect several pieces of the cartridge boxes leather satchel. I then
discovered the source of the continued metal detector hits: a shiny, brass
buckle!
The box must have come to rest
cover side down. Its leather cover was immediately pushed into the silt
by the weight of its shot. The buckle was most likely attached to a linen
shoulder strap that had since disintegrated. After two centuries of being
sandwiched between the shot and the sediment, the buckle had left a scar
of its outline upon the cover. The back of the pouch remained exposed to
the water and the movements of its currents. It fragmented as a result
its exposure. Eventually, all that remained would become entirely
encapsulated and sheltered by accumulating silt.
The sediment had already
demonstrated its ability to protect iron from oxidation and degradation.
The discovery of the leather cartridge box was evidence that the sediment
could sustain organic objects as well.
The team’s excitement grew with
the prospects of recovering a wide range of material from the battle.
However, the next day’s arrival of Hurricane Floyd would have serious
implications for the team’s survey season. As remnant storm systems
entered the Champlain Valley, they literally turned the lake upside down.
The water temperature at the site dropped to a chilly, 52º. It was a
sixteen-degree drop in just two days! It would be difficult for wetsuit
divers to work comfortably in those conditions for any length of time.
A wetsuit allows a thin layer of
water to rest between the suit and the diver’s body. His body soon warms
the water. Together, the water layer and the suit insulate him from the
outside cold. A dry suit, as the term suggests, keeps the diver’s body
dry. With the exception of his head and hands, the suit totally
encapsulates him from the surrounding water. This allows him to wear
insulating undergarments as added protection from the cold. Dry suits are
more expensive than wetsuits and more commonly used in commercial or
professional settings. Most of the VBRP volunteers are recreational
divers, equipped with wetsuits. After the storm, temperatures were
approaching the limits that their suits would adequately insulate them.
Only the few divers with dry suits would be able to comfortably continue
with the survey season.
The storm also deposited of
massive amounts of seaweed on the site. The heaviest concentrations were
left in the northwest grid. Being under active survey, the grid’s
transect posts were still standing. As the storm’s currents ripped
through the bay, the posts acted like a 50’ rake. We spent the better
part of a dive clearing the seaweed from the grid.
After we cleared the transect posts, I noticed
that the anomaly posts were also entangled in seaweed.
The anomaly post over the cartridge box was the last post to
be cleared. I looked
to the east and was puzzled by a remaining clump of seaweed.
We hadn’t surveyed that far into the grid and there shouldn’t
be any posts in that area. As I cleared the seaweed away,
an iron fluke came into view; it was one of four that belong
to a grapnel anchor. To date, it’s the only artifact that we’ve
discovered visibly protruding above the lakebed. Its existence
and placement also had important implications for our understanding
of the site; they suggested that a ship was at anchor at the
time of the cannon’s explosion.
The Grapnel Anchor
Three more artifacts were
located in the northwest grid. They formed a cluster and consisted of a
wooden fragment, an iron bracket and a jagged piece of lead. The wood
appears to be a small fragment of the cannon’s carriage and rest appears
to be the hardware upon which one of the cannon’s trunnions was mounted.
The
Iron Bracket and Lead Piece

Artifact
details. Drawn and inked by Adam Loven- LCMM collections.
(click on the thumbnails to see a larger image)
A bayonet was discovered in the
northeast grid, approximately seventeen feet north of the cannon muzzle.
It appears to have suffered a crease across the middle of its blade. Over
the years the bayonet corroded along this crease. It separated into two
halves when I attempted to lift it from the silt.
Before the end of the season,
two additional grids were set up north of the original four. They were
surveyed and found to contain only a single piece of grape shot. Grape
shot consisted of several small rounds of iron shot. They were clustered
together, in iron canisters or burlap bags, and fired from a cannon in
mass. While the larger round shot was designed to damage a ship’s hull,
grape shot was designed to eliminate her personnel.
Our late start and the effects
of Hurricane Floyd limited our 1999 survey. But we still managed to
complete six grids of survey and locate twelve artifacts. Late in the
season we were also finally able to view and film a portion of the
cannon’s muzzle. Although our efforts were modest, we were able to
determine that the muzzle was not an isolated artifact, but a piece of a
much larger puzzle.
The first pieces of this puzzle
were beginning to come together and reveal a dramatic scene from an epic,
early-American struggle. From the cannon’s heavy muzzle and the
ship’s anchor we were able to see that a ship once held a station above
our present worksite. While there, a cannon failed and burst upon
her decks. The artifact scatter to the northwest indicated that the
blast ejected debris, accoutrements and possibly some of the crew into the
bay. We were finding ourselves among the evidence of a catastrophic
event that undoubtedly held lethal consequences for a vessel and her crew;
both of which were already imperiled in one of the most violent
confrontations to take place in the American Revolution’s northern
theatre. |