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#royalnavy — Public Fediverse posts

Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #royalnavy, aggregated by home.social.

  1. On 12 July a Submarine the Royal Navy Sold to Canada for £1 Fired the Torpedo That Sank a Decommissioned US Navy Cruiser

    On 12 July 2026, in water nearly three miles deep, more than fifty nautical miles north of Kauai,…
    #Canada #ColdWar #nato #navy #RoyalNavy #Submarine #Submarines #USNavy #Victoria-Class
    europesays.com/canada/196649/

  2. This month's Journey Plotter update:
    New is the 1916-1919 #WW1 journey of HMS Whitby Abbey; Mediterranean.

    The journey of USS Concord (PG-3) was amended with the years 1899-1900; Asiatic Station.
    Her journey now covers 1897 to 1900 and 1907 to 1909.

    And USS Yorktown (PG-1) was amended with the years 1912-1913; North, Central and South American waters.
    Her journey now covers 1889 to 1913, though there are some gaps when she was decommissioned.

    #NavalHistory #CitizenScience #RoyalNavy #USNavy

  3. The Royal Navy bought twenty new sea drones from a UK company called Kraken. They're flash units with autonomous capability and are designed to work in swarms.

    krakentechnology.com/platforms

    However the K3 drones failed a routine cyber-vulnerability assessment when it was discovered that their cameras were pinging a Chinese IP address. The UK has a policy banning Chinese tech from military equipment.

    Whoops!

    bbc.com/news/articles/c4gwl3n7

    #UK #Drones #RoyalNavy #China

  4. The 1916-1919 journey of HMS Whitby Abbey is made available in Journey Plotter.
    It was transcribed by Brian, who wanted to find out more about his grandfather, who sailed on board Whitby Abbey during that period.

    Thank you for sharing Brian. 👍

    #NavalHistory #WW1 #RoyalNavy #CitizenScience

  5. Navy says it is spending 25% more time monitoring Russian vessels around UK waters
    By Nadeem Badshah and PA Media

    Warning of increased activity as patrols spent 21 days in July shadowing Moscow’s ships in Dover Strait and North Sea

    theguardian.com/uk-news/2026/a

    #RoyalNavy #UKnews #Military #Russia #Europe #TheGuardian #NadeemBadshah #PAMedia

  6. Reform UK has proposed using the navy to stop small boat crossings. Is their plan feasible?
    By Rajeev Syal and Dan Sabbagh

    Nigel Farage said his party would send the military to the Channel to intercept and return dinghies carrying migrants to France

    theguardian.com/politics/2026/

    #ReformUK #Immigrationandasylum #Politics #UKnews #RoyalNavy #TheGuardian #RajeevSyal #DanSabbagh

  7. #Farage...

    we will bring out the #RoyalNavy... ffs...

    #RuleBritannia... Lets hope that man NEVER gains any kind of power ...

  8. Former navy officer criticises Reform plan to use military to stop small boats
    By Kevin Rawlinson

    Retired commander says policy lacks substance as party accused of trying to distract from Nigel Farage’s scandals

    theguardian.com/politics/2026/

    #ReformUK #NigelFarage #Immigrationandasylum #RoyalNavy #Military #Politics #UKnews #TheGuardian #KevinRawlinson

  9. Criticism of Reform UK’s pledge to use Navy to stop small boats – politics live
    By Yohannes Lowe

    Labour say plan is a ‘desperate attempt to distract from sleaze’ while a retired commander says it ‘lacks substance’

    theguardian.com/politics/live/

    #Politics #ReformUK #Immigrationandasylum #RoyalNavy #Military #UKnews #TheGuardian #YohannesLowe

  10. A few weeks ago, we visited the #FleetAirArmMuseum as it used to be called, which is in #Yeovilton. The #FleetAirArm is that part of the #RoyalNavy associated with #Aviation, mainly helicopters but also fixed-wing #Aeroplanes. Its official title now is Royal Navy Museum, Naval Aviation. There’s lots of hardware and #Engineering to be seen there and I recommend you go there but it’s a little out of the way and probably not as renowned as other #Museums.

    [Note: long thread to follow!]

  11. Tuesday, July 28, 2026

    Moscow Oblast industrial plant struck by Ukrainian drones, blackout in occupied Crimea . . . . . Ukraine's military intelligence names Russian unit behind deadly jet-powered drone strike on Chernihiv supermarket . . . . . Attacks on Ukrainians in Poland are rising. Disinformation fuels the flames . . . . . The international community should provide more support for Ukraine's cultural sector . . . . . and more

    activitypub.writeworks.uk/2026

  12. 𝗪𝗜𝗞𝗜𝗣𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬

    ✧ HMS Malabar ✧

    HMS Malabar was a 74-gun ship of the line of the Royal Navy, launched in 1818 at Bombay Dockyard. In 1838, Malabar ran aground off Prince Edward Island in British North America and was damaged, with the loss of two crew members. She was refloated later that year and towed into Three Rivers in Lower Canada...

    #PrinceEdwardIsland #BritishNorthAmerica #RoyalNavy #UnitedStatesNavy #Malabar #Wikipedia
    en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Mala

  13. Fairey Firefly Mk I (TT.I) Seen here in the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm Museum at Yeovliton, the Firefly was the last time the Royal Navy shoehorned a navigator into one of their carrier fighters! Theythought that the pilot needed a navigator to stop him getting lost at sea! Needless to say, this increased the size and weight of the aircraft, and reduced performance. Despite being powered by a Rolls-Griffon IIB engine of 1,735hp, the Firefly I could only manage 319 mph - this was 5 mph slower than a Merlin-powered Hawker Hurricane Mk I of 1940! This Firefly was sold to Svensk Flygtjänst AB of Sweden after conversion to a target tug, eventually being restored as an aircraft which took part on attacks on the Japanese Home Islands in 1945. #FaireyFirefly #FleetAirArm #RN #RoyalNavy #Pacific #Japan #HomeIslands #WW2 #history #photography #museum #aviation #avgeek #targettug #Sweden #yeovilton #FleetAirArmMuseum #navalaviation #fighter #aircraft #rollsroyce #rrgriffon

  14. Supermarine Walrus I, Fleet Air Arm Museum, Yeovilton. The Walrus was designed to be an aircraft that could be catapulted from capital ships of the Royal Navy, but ended up being a most useful amphibian. As well as spotting naval gunfire, the Walrus provided excellent air/sea rescue service around the coast of Britain and in other areas. Some were supplied to the Republic of Ireland, and this preserved example is one of these. #amphibian #WW2 #royalnavy #aircraft #capitalship #navalhistory #navalaviation #naval #avgeek #FleetAirArm #FleetAirArmMuseum #yeovilton #supermarine #walrus #aviation #aviationgeek

  15. The Great Storm of 1901: the thread about the tragic loss of the cutter “Active”

    On the 12th November 1901 a terrible storm formed over the North Sea and battered the East Coast of Scotland. The Firth of Forth felt its full fury and by the following morning twenty men would lie dead in the cold waters of Wardie Bay, when the Royal Navy cutter Active was driven ashore and wrecked against the Granton Breakwater.

    Headline from the Edinburgh Evening News, 13th November 1901.

    The Active was a 135 ton sailing yawl, built in Kent in 1867. For 20 years she had been stationed in the Forth as tender to the navy’s guardship at South Queensferry, the old battleship HMS Anson. She had recently returned south from secondment to the Revenue Service as a fisheries cutter off of the Shetland Islands. Her captain was Lt. Charles Culley RN, a pious and temperate man who was a “good husband, a good father and a real Christian” in the words of his widow. Culley had started out life as a pit boy in Somerset but had turned to Methodism and joined the Navy. He was therefore somewhat unusual in being a Bluejacket, having come up through the ranks and had recently learned that he was being advanced in the service and would be receiving command of a steam gunboat.

    HM Revenue Cutter Active, London Illustrated News – Saturday 23rd November 1901

    During the day on November 12th the temperature plunged and the wind got increasingly strong. Soon it brought heavy squalls of rain and sleet. The waves ran high along the Forth and were “breaking with great violence against the piers and embankments, doing considerable damage“. At the end of the eastern breakwater at Granton the green marker lighthouse and a gangway were carried away. On the quayside, part of the roof of the North British Railway station was blown off. At Trinity Crescent the sea wall was breached and the road was left impassable. On account of the intensity of the storm in the North Sea the east coast fishing fleet returned home early, boats from as far as Dundee and Aberdeen running for the safety of Granton. The Burntisland ferry was stopped, with the William Muir being kept tied up alongside at Granton. At North Queensferry the Norwegian steamer Dronning Gyda of Kristiansund was driven ashore and the Swedish schooner Tura was wrecked on the island of Inchgarvie, her crew of 7 managing to scramble ashore and seek shelter. Many vessels came into Leith Roads to seek shelter; those that could sought refuge in the harbours; those left out in the Forth were seen to be straining at their anchors. Similar stories were repeated all along the east coast of Scotland and England.

    “Approaching Storm, Entrance to the Firth of Forth”; Jock Wilson, mid-19th century; Wolverhampton Arts and Heritage via ArtUK

    The gale swept across the city early in the afternoon and many a chimney pot came crashing down. A cartload of hay was blown over and several shop windows were blown in. Trees were brought down in the Botanics, at St. Bernard’s Crescent and on Moray Place. At the Usher’s bonded warehouse at St. Leonards the lamplighter, Donald Cormack, lost his life when an external wooden staircase he was climbing collapsed in the wind. At 74 Causewayside, twelve year old Annie Hanlan was killed as she lay in bed when the chimney breast of the tenement collapsed through the roof. A heroic effort on the part of the Sciennes firemen under the command of Lt. Grinton saw her 14 year old sister Mary, who had been sharing the same bed, rescued and taken to the Infirmary suffering from serious injuries. Two others were injured and the tenement was condemned, rendering 12 families homeless.

    The maximum average wind speed during the storm would be recorded at 67mph. Beyond the city boundaries nearly all telegraph and telephone cables came down. There was no communication north, only three wires to Glasgow left intact and a single each to Newcastle and Leeds for all southwards communications. A huge backlog of messages piled up in the telegraph offices, unsent. Within the city, the telephone network was “very much out of order“, hampering the emergency response. Out in the Forth, Lt. Culley and the Active had been sent from their mooring at South Queenferry to seek shelter in Leith Roads in the time honoured way, in the lee of the island of Inchkeith. Culley had three anchors put down to secure his charge and during the day it was seen by observers on the shore to be riding out the storm as comfortably as could be expected.

    “Inchkeith on the Forth in a Fresh Gale”. Ships have long sought refuge in Leith Roads, sheltering in the lee of the island of Inchkeith from gales coming in off the North Sea. John Gabriel Stedman, 1781. CC-by-NC National Galleries Scotland

    Around 3 O’clock in the morning the Active was seen to be dragging her anchors. Her tiller was smashed, and orders were given to bring the spare up from below decks. Her foresail was raised to try and sail out of trouble, but it jammed and had to be hauled back down. Attempts by a Granton-based tug to reach her were futile and what few onlookers were present watched helplessly as she was soon being driven uncontrollably towards the shore. Culley let off his distress rockets to try and summon assistance and mustered the remaining men from their sleep on deck. However, before any attempt to save lives could be made, the little ship was dashed against the breakwater and “smashed to match-wood“. Observers saw her two blue marker lights disappear from view at about 4:15AM. In the last moments before disaster, Culley had ordered his men to climb the rigging in the hope of safety but of the twenty-five souls on board, only three were spared. Such had been the haste of her demise that only three men had managed to put on their cork life jackets and Ordinary Seamen W. Travis, G. Dady (or Peady) and G. Pearce would be the only men who made it off. Two of them were washed completely over the breakwater and into the harbour, being picked up by the steamer Bele who had heard their cries.

    The saving of Ordinary Seaman Travis by the crew of the Bele. Artist’s reconstruction in The Graphic illustrated newspaper, November 28th 1901

    The third, dressed only in his string vest and life jacket, managed to cling to the breakwater and “through dogged persistence” crawled along it to safety. The other two survivors of the ship’s complement were Quartermaster Walsenham (or Wakenham) and the Second Mate, Boatswain John Donovan, both of whom had been allowed shore leave in Leith the day before and had been unable to rejoin ship on account of the weather.

    Headline from the Dundee Evening Telegraph, 13th November 1901. Note that at this time it was thought that 23 lives, not 20, had been lost.

    With the telephone and telegraph systems being out of order, news had to be carried on foot to the police office at Gayfield Square from where 10 constables and two doctors were dispatched under the command of Superintendent Lamb , Inspector Cruickshanks and Sergeant Ford. By 11AM, only three bodies had been recovered, the vessel having been driven ashore on an ebb tide, which meant that most of the victims’ bodies were carried away from the shore and out into the Forth. The local fishermen, intimately in tune with the currents and habits of the Firth, pronounced that bodies would be carried to the vicinity of Elie.

    All morning on the 13th, dense crowds lined the Wardie foreshore to gaze on at the macabre spectacle of wreckage and flotsam being tossed around in the bay and of policemen combing the shore with boathooks looking for survivors (or, more realistically, bodies). Rifles, cutlasses and uniforms were brought up on the slipway at Granton and large quantities of Rum had to be secured by the Customs men before they found their way into jacket pockets. Sergeant Bain of the Police was able to pull ashore the ship’s colours from the breakwater at considerable risk to his life.

    Granton Harbour from Wardie in 1900, the year before the loss of the Active. She was driven against the eastern breakwater, on the right of the picture. © Edinburgh City Libraries

    On Thursday 14th, the newspapers reported that the foreshore along the coast was being searched for bodies and that divers had arrived to scour the seabed around the wreckage. The gunboats HMS Redwing and Cockchafer arrived to trawl up and down the Forth. In the aftermath, observers with the benefit of hindsight said that the Active had been anchored too close to the shore and not far enough north to be safely sheltered in the lee of Inchkeith. Some were of the opinion that she should have been brought into the safety of the harbour, however it was noted in the papers that this would have been against Culley’s instructions. Others still wrote to the Scotsman bemoaning the lack of a coastguard watch or lifeboat at Granton, Leith or Newhaven.

    The first funerals took place on Saturday 16th, with a cortège leaving the City Mortuary on Infirmary Street with full naval honours on its way to the Admiralty’s plot at Seafield cemetery. The procession was led by the officers and men of HMS Anson and the band of the shore base HMS Caledonia. Thousands turned out to line the streets and pay their respects to seamen John (or Herbert) Walker, R. Pearson and E. Farrow, Carpenter’s Mate H. Williams and Ship’s Boy J. Mulvaney. The same day, a requiem mass was held for James Donovan at St. Mary’s Star of the Sea R.C. Church in Leith. All six were interred side-by-side at Seafield, the men from the Anson firing a salute over the graves. That same day, a remarkable event occurred; a glass bottle was recovered on the shore at Granton, containing a message: “H.M.C. Active, Sinking Fast. From Captain Culley. Good-bye.” Mrs Culley identified the handwriting as that of her late husband.

    On Tuesday 26th of November, a further body was recovered from the mud in Granton harbour, Ordinary Seaman James Lyall could only be identified from his names stitched inside his clothing. On the 29th, tugs brought the remains of the Active to a position in Wardie Bay where they could be hauled ashore and broken up. The following day, a benevolent fund was opened for the families of the deceased by Captain William Fisher CB of the Anson and his officers, with the Lifeboat Institution making an opening contribution of £2,000. Lieutenant Culley alone left behind 6 children, the eldest being 17.

    Name NameLieutenant Charley Culley, TrinityChief Quartermaster James Donovan, KingstonPetty Officer 2nd Class Reuben Weller, KentCarpenter’s Mate Harry Williams, PembrokeAble Seaman Richard Pearson, LondonAble Seaman Edward Farrow, LondonAble Seaman George Gregory, LondonAble Seaman Richard Randall, LondonAble Seaman William Thompson, HartlepoolAble Seaman Edward Plumber, LondonAble Seaman William Burton, LondonOrdinary Seaman James LyallOrdinary Seaman Thomas AmosOrdinary Seaman James TempleOrdinary Seaman John (or Herbert) WalkerOrdinary Seaman Arthur PreynnOrdinary Seaman Arthur BanhamOrdinary Seaman William MillingOrdinary Seaman John ButtonsShip’s Boy Joseph MulvaneyOfficers and men lost on the Active

    Bodies were slowly recovered in November and by the 20th, seventeen had been recovered. On 27th November, Ordinary Seaman James Lyall was buried at Seafield. A court martial into the disaster was held in distant Chatham on 3rd December. Four of the five survivors (George Pearce was still in hospital recovering) appeared, but were not charged or asked to plead. Captain Fisher of the Anson gave witness, confirming that he had ordered Culley not to risk his ship on any account, and to anchor her in Leith Roads. He did however say that Culley had not done so in the exact position he had been shown on the chart. The survivors stated that the loss of the tiller and jamming of the sails had prevented them for seeking safety, and that the Granton tugs had not approached close enough to offer assistance. The court exonerated the survivors from all blame, but noted – with the benefit of hindsight – that Culley should have “shown better judgement had he either weighed or slipped anchors and run for safety” but that when the disaster was inevitable “he appeared to have maintained discipline and done all possible to save life.” Culley’s body was not recovered until late in January 1902, and he was buried with full naval honours near his men in Seafield Cemetery.

    Lt. Charles Culley’s gravestone at Seafield Cemetery. Photo © Self

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  16. Last voyage of the battlecruiser “Moltke”: the thread about how a German warship almost destroyed the Forth Bridge

    On a recent (2022) trip to Orkney we visited the excellent and newly refurbished Scapa Flow museum and I bought a fascinating book on the subject of the internment, scuttling and salvage of the German Hocheseeflotte – the Imperial German Navy’s “High Seas Fleet” , after WW1. (The author, Dan Van Der Vat, is very readable, being a journalist by trade.) So naturally I’ve managed to find an exciting and little known of local history angle to this.

    The SMS Moltke (Seiner Majestät Schiff, His Majesty’s Ship) was a 25,000 ton battlecruiser of the Imperial German Navy. She was 612 feet long, 96.5 feet wide, could make 25.5 knots on the 51,000 horsepower produced by her engines and was armed with ten 11 inch guns in five turrets. Battlecruisers were the pride of contemporary fleets, as well armed as the main battleships but able to reach the sort of speeds usually reserved for smaller ships. Big, well armed and fast, Moltke was every bit the equal for her Royal Navy equivalents.

    Moltke in New York, 1912

    At the end of the war the Hocheseeflotte was still largely materially intact, but organisation and discipline was another matter. It was forced under the terms of Armistice by the Allies into a humiliating internment under the watchful eye of the Royal Navy. It had been hoped by the Germans that the fleet would be dispersed to neutral ports but instead it ended up imprisoned in the bleak confines of Scapa Flow, the principal wartime anchorage of the Royal Navy’s Grand Fleet. Its remaining ships arrived at Scapa after a rendezvous with the Grand Fleet in the Firth of Forth, from where it was escorted into a miserable internment.

    The German Fleet at Anchor off Inchkeith, Firth of Forth: After the Surrender, IWM ART 1926

    The German ships were disarmed and made incapable of war or even escape, but legally they remained the property of the German state. They were supplied by German provision ships sent by the German government from German ports. Although their crews were not officially prisoners, they were not allowed to leave the confines of their ships and no British personnel were allowed aboard apart from small official delegations pertaining to the administrative niceties of exile. As the signing of the Treaty of Versailles approached, the German Admiral in charge at Scapa – Ludwig Von Reuter – found himself in an impossible position.

    Vizeadmiral Hans Hermann Ludwig von Reuter

    Von Reuter was caught between the national honour of the Prussian officer class; his mutinous and non-compliant crews; British belligerence and overwhelming Allied political pressure. His fear, not without reasonable, was that the British would try and seize the German fleet on the signing of the treaty. He gathered around him a select circle of loyal officers and right under the nose of the watchful Royal Navy and his own suspicious and resentful sailors, managed to organise a mass scuttling of almost his entire fleet.

    The battleship Bayern sinking in Scapa Flow, the same image as used on the cover of Dan Van Der Vat’s book.

    On 21st June 1919 the conspirators managed to scuttle fifteen of the sixteen battleships and battlecruisers, five of the eight fleet cruisers and thirty-two of the fifty destroyers at Scapa. The cream of the German Navy was turned into the half a million tons of scrap metal on the seabed in a matter of hours. Publicly the British were furious (the Royal Navy doubly so as it had been totally humiliated), but Von Reuter had actually done everyone involved a favour and simplified negotiations over the fate of the fleet – If the German Navy lay at the bottom of Scapa Flow then nobody could have it: not the British, the Germans, the French, the Americans or even the Italians.

    Seydlitz on her side in Scapa Flow

    Scapa Flow was now littered with over fifty German wrecks in various states of submersion, posing quite the navigation hazard – as demonstrated ably by the government whaler Ramna which got stuck fast on top of the capsized hull of the Moltke. The world soon moved on from the scuttling as shattered countries sought to begin rebuilding themselves post war.

    The Admiralty whaler Ramna, high and dry on the Moltke’s partially submerged hull

    Enterprising locals (often unofficially) stripped what they could access above waterline for scrap until an enterprising Shetland shipowner and councillor – J. W. Roberston – proved that you could salvage wrecks from underwater and brought a number of torpedo boats ashore for their scrap value. Enter now stage left the enterprising, irrepressible and energetic figure of Ernest Frank Guelph Cox. Cox was a self made engineer and metal dealer from the Midlands who had the vision to believe he could access and salvage the five hundred thousand tons of best German steel located at the bottom of Scapa Flow. Now that the price of scrap metal had started to rise after the immediate postwar slump, his backers believed that it would now be financially worthwhile.

    Ernest F. Cox, from the book Cox’s Navy by Tony Booth

    Cox’s business partner in his firm – Cox & Danks – was his cousin, the capital behind the operation. Together they bought the rights to salvage the Hocheseeflotte from the Admiralty and set to work at Scapa in the mid 1920s. Cox had the foresight to hire Tom McKenzie, a Glaswegian naval salvage diver who would pretty much write the book on naval salvage diving.

    Tom McKenzie

    Although all involved were practical, skilled and experienced men, they were starting from almost nothing and had to largely invent, improvise and improve all the required techniques for marine salvage on this scale. Overcoming setback after setback, they were driven along by Cox’s indefatigable determination and Danks’ deep pockets. They made rapid progress and the first torpedo boat – V70 – was raised after less than 2 months work in 1924. Moving on to the next boat and then the next one after that, they honed their techniques and were soon raising ships at a rapid rate. Within two years, all twenty six torpedo boats that Cox had the rights to take had been raised.

    Salvaging a destroyer

    Cox now turned his attention to the big ships on the bottom, the battleships and battlecruisers. In May 1926 he started on the SMS Hindenburg, but even though she reached the surface the operation proved a disaster and she had to be quickly resunk. The precarious situation of the salvagers at Scapa was saved by the discovery of huge stocks of coal in the bunkers of SMS Seydlitz; it was found these could be accessed and “mined” from the surface and this free source of fuel tided the operations over. Cox now set his sights on the Moltke. The basic technique was relatively simple. Divers were sent down to plug the holes in the hull and it was pumped full of compressed air, displacing the water aboard. As it leaked and bubbled out through the holes that had been missed, these two were plugged. Eventually air could be pumped in quicker than it escaped and slowly the hull would start to float.

    Salvage at Scapa. Cox’s men, aboard the deck of a partially raised destroyer, man the pumps filling the hull with compressed air.

    I say relatively, in practice it was tremendously difficult and verging on the impossible. They were working at – or beyond – the limits of contemporary diving skills and technology. Conditions were harsh and the environment of Scapa Flow was unforgiving as any British sailor ever sent there would attest, but Cox’ determination and McKenzie’s skill drove them forwards. The Germans had efficiently and effectively wrecked the watertight integrity of the ships’ inner bulkheads so before they could be raised in a controlled manner, divers had to go in and restore it by welding and plugging any gaps they could find. To make this possible, airlocks – like huge submarine chimneys – were built down into each compartment. From these, divers could access the innards and get to work under intense air pressure, working upside down on ships encased in marine slime, often in complete darkness.

    These jaunty cylinders breaching the surface of Scapa Flow are the air lock towers, reaching down to the sunken ship below

    Cox was a bit of a showman, always on site and always hands on. His men respected him and the press loved him. He made sure the latter were around whenever anything interesting was happening. The Scotsman filed almost weekly progress reports on the salvage of the Moltke.

    • October 21, 1926. Compressed air pumping operations commence on the hull of the Moltke.
    • December 10, 1926. Moltke is rising unevenly and the divers are forced to sink her in case she is caught by the winter gales.
    • Feb. 15, 1927. Work restarts after winter storms, the first airlock is fitted and almost 100 men are at work on the Moltke.
    • Feb. 24, 1927. The difficulties are described of working in a 15PSI atmosphere where cutting torches burn up the oxygen as fast as it can be pumped in
    • May 30, 1927. Work resumes again after 2 months of gales. A disaster is narrowly avoided when the wrong valve is closed and compressed air rushes through the ship from stern to bow, blowing the 16 divers at work inside through the ship with it.
    • June 13, 1927. Cox has the Pathé newsreel men on site to witness the triumph of the Moltke breaching the surface in a controlled manner and refloating after 8 years on the seabed.
    June 13th 1927, Moltke breaches the surface and stays there. Cox and his men are triumphant

    But don’t just look at those grainy thumbnails, watch the whole clip on the Pathe website! Over the next four months the refloated Moltke was painstakingly winched towards Cox & Danks’ salvage base at Lyness on the island of Hoy, narrowly avoiding grounding on the island of Cava when one of her big 11 inch guns fouled the seabed and had to be cut free. They begin cutting her up in situ but it soon becomes obvious that the isolated shores of Scapa Flow were the wrong place to do this and made little economic sense. Cox therefore convinced the Admiralty to lease him the No. 3 Dry Dock at Rosyth Royal Dockyard, the largest and most modern in Scotland.

    Dragging the upturned Moltke to Lyness

    He then sold on the scrapping rights to the Alloa Shipbreaking Company, who would undertake the actual dismantling work at Rosyth, thus leaving him free to concentrate on the dark arts of salvage. But the problem still remained as to how to get the beached and upside-down hulk of Moltke 250 miles south to Rosyth. The only solution was to refloat it and tow it there – a hard enough task if it didn’t include having to transit the Pentland Firth with its infamous tidal currents, some of the fastest in the world. Undaunted, Cox set to work. The ship was lightened of thousands of tons of steel such as propellers and shafts, armour plate etc., and her hull was patched up with concrete where they had started to demolish it.

    Getting Moltke ready for sea at Scapa

    Refloated for the journey, two shelters were built on her “deck”, actually the upturned bottom; one with accommodation for the eight crew who would make the journey (including Cox himself), the other with enough pumps to keep her full of compressed air. Lifeboats were thoughtfully included too. By May 18th, Moltke was ready to go. Controversially at the time, both in Britain and in Germany, the three tugs that were chartered to take her on her final voyage were German, including the Seefalke – the most powerful in the world – the Posen and the Simson.

    The unlikely shape of the upside down Moltke, with Simsun and Seefalke lashed to her sides. The third tug could pull from the front or stern to provide better directional control.

    For good measure, on board was also one William Mowat, the coxswain of the Longhope Lifeboat, probably the only man in the world qualified to pilot the wallowing hulk out of Scapa and safely past Duncansby Head.

    William Mowat and the crew of the Longhope lifeboat. “Bill” Mowat is middle row, 2nd from left. © Orkney Image Library, 10060

    Despite Mowat’s presence, disaster was soon upon them when the weather got up. The three tugs could not make headway against the wind and current and Moltke started going backwards though the Pentland Firth, rolling by up to 13.5 degrees. She lost 6 feet of her precious freeboard as the compressed air bubbles within that kept her afloat leaked out due to the constant rocking and pitching motions. The pumps could not keep up and she was slowly sinking. Salvation came with the tides themselves, which inevitably turned and speedily ejected the battlecruiser and her three attendants out of the Firth.

    After this literally rocky start, things calmed down and the pumps were able to refill the air bubbles and lift the hull back out of the sea again. With the tugs now making headway the close call was soon forgotten about and Cox the showman had the crew play a makeshift game of cricket on the deck for the press. I think he is the man umpiring at the back, in the pullover with his hands behind his back.

    All calm on the deck of the Moltke © Orkney Library

    The rest of the journey to the Firth of Forth proceeded calmly and according to plan and by May 21st she was off Granton. The last manoeuvre required of the tugs was to get her safely under the Forth Bridge and into the Rosyth basin. And this is where things start to go wrong. Again.

    This time it was down to petty officialdom. The Forth Pilot arrived from Granton and tried to take command. He was joined shortly afterwards by the Admiralty pilot from Rosyth. A standoff now ensued as the civil and military opposite numbers argued over who had the rights to pilot the Moltke up the Firth. Neither was willing to back down and the set to kept on going, as did the changing tide and currents of the Firth. Gradually, so to did Moltke herself, gently easing her way inevitably upstream. Before the situation could be resolved, they found themselves coming upon Inchgarvie island; the very rock on which the piers of the bridge was built. And the newsmen from Pathé were there to film it all!

    One of tugs found itself grounded on Inchgarvie…

    Moltke approaches Inchgarvie

    The Seefalke, attached at the back and in charge of providing steerage then drifted around the wrong side of the island and had to cut the tow. Moltke was now at the mercy of the currents, with two tugs lashed to her, one being dragged along the bottom, and with no ability to manoeuvre their charge.

    Seefalke stands off

    Now totally out of control, Moltke spun through 90 degrees and drifted sideways down the Firth towards the bridge, dragging the helpless tugs along with her. All twenty three thousand or so tons of her was now heading broadside towards the central piers of the bridge, those which rose directly out of the water itself. All the while, trains rattled to and fro overhead with little idea what was unfolding below them.

    Moltke floats down the Firth towards the bridge

    If you watch the remarkable clip, you can see Moltke drifting beam-on towards the bridge as a train goes by overhead. Somebody must have been saying their prayers onboard though, as somehow the tugs lashed to Moltke‘s hull managed to position the 612 feet wide floating wrecking ball perfectly between the piers and Inchgarvie, narrowly avoiding disaster.

    Safely under the bridge and back under control.

    The Seefalke was now able to get a line across and bring the hulk under control, steering her gingerly towards the safety of Rosyth. The watching press were blissfully unaware how close disaster had been, the Scotsman reported “a wonderful piece of navigation and most successfully performed“. However, if you look closely at the footage, Moltke approaches the bridge stern first (with her 4 propeller supports leading the way) but passes through it bow-first (with the big notch cut out from initial breaking up leading). The big battlecruiser had done a 180 degree pirouette while passing under the bridge!

    Nothing to see here!

    Moltke was edged finally towards the channel into No. 3 Dry Dock but Cox couldn’t yet breathe a sigh of relief; first he has to get the ship into the dock, as his contract stipulates he won’t get paid by the Alloa Shipbreaking Co. until she is in and the dock is drained.

    Moltke approaches the gate of No. 3 Dry Dock

    But this last step will be no small feat – there is just a one day window on the highest spring tide to get the upside down hulk into dock. Ships usually go in the right way up of course, but the inverted Moltke is drawing 41 feet of water at her deepest, 25% more than she would otherwise, and the dock gate had a lip that reduces the depth of the water to only 38 feet! But this was Cox and he was undaunted – by an incredibly skilful act of pumping compressed air in at one end and letting it out at another, and then reversing the process, he was able to “hop” the deepest part of the ship over the dock lip and get her safely in with the gates shut.

    But on the brink of final triumph, once again officialdom almost screwed everything up for Cox. With Moltke bobbing in the waters of the still flooded dock, the supervisor stepped in and disagreed about how to support the upside down ship on the dock floor. He had a point – ships didn’t normally go into dock with their pointy-bits facing down the way. There were all sorts of projections beneath the hull that might damage the critical national infrastructure that he was in charge of. Of course the Admiralty should have worked this all out with Cox before they signed over the use of the dock to him. A frantic phonecall to Whitehall couldn’t resolve things so Cox jumped straight on the first train south to thrash it out in person. Ironically to do so he first had to pass over the bridge he very nearly demolished only a few hours previously. In London an agreement was reached and he was back the next day, 28th May, to get his men to work shoring up the hull with baulks of timber.

    Then dock was then slowly drained and the ship finally came to rest on the bottom. It was June 5th as the last of the water was pumped; Cox had finally won. He had raised a 23,000 ton ship from the seabed that had spent 8 years submerged – twice! -, beached it, refloated it, sailed it 250 miles through the treacherous Pentland Firth and squeezed it upside down into a dry dock into which it shouldn’t have fitted and all without demolishing one of the most important structures in the western world!

    Moltke high and dry in the dock

    The Alloa men could now get to work and on September 13th 1928 set about cutting up the pride of the Hocheseeflotte into thousands of tons of valuable scrap metal.

    Moltke being cut up

    Cox would go on to salvage every ship he could from the bottom of Scapa Flow giving up eight years later and £10,000 worse off than when he began. For all his drive and determination, his financial skills were somewhat lacking and his pioneering methods proved inefficient and just never paid back. Other Scottish businessmen, including those of Alloa Shipbreakers and salvage diver Tom Mckenzie, then formed Metal Industries Ltd to carry on were Cox left off. With more efficient, refined techniques and more sensible business practices, their venture would pay off in a big way.

    The salvage of the Kaiserin by Metal Industries in 1936. Sealed and pumped full of compressed air, the ship breaches the surface, air locks and all. From the Illustrated London News.

    The last Scapa ship raised by Metal Industries was SMS Derfflinger. Another war intervened in this venture and she spent WW2 beached and upside down, alongside the disarmed old battleship HMS Iron Duke, HQ ship at Scapa, which during WW1 had faced off against the Hocheseeflotte at the Battle of Jutland. The salvage men aboard Derfflinger would save the Iron Duke after she was nearly sunk in an air raid early in the war. Derfflinger was floated into a submersible dry dock and towed to Faslane after the war for scrapping.

    Derfflinger enters Faslane, the last of the German battleships from Scapa to be scrapped

    One of Metal Industries’ many improvements on the salvage process was to rapidly sink the ship as soon as they had raised it, to crush and concertina the protruding superstructure up inside the hull, removing most of the underwater obstructions that plagued Cox. It is praiseworthy that the basic salvage techniques pioneered by Cox and McKenzie, and refined by Metal Industries, are still those that are in use today.

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