The Sea Hunters II: More True Adventures with Famous Shipwrecks

POSTSCRIPT FROM THE AUTHOR

The National Underwater & Marine Agency (NUMA) has a proud record of achievement. Never has so much been accomplished with so few people with so little financial or technical help.

We’re not a giant corporation — an oil company or university with large grant funding — nor are we a department of the government with a billion-dollar budget. We have very few donations of consequence. Douglas Wheeler, a Chicago businessman and NUMA trustee, has been a generous contributor, as has ECO-NOVA Productions of Nova Scotia, which has engaged me to narrate a series of Sea Hunters documentaries on famous shipwrecks. And, except for Schonstedt Instruments, we have rarely been offered equipment without paying the going rental price.

NUMA is a nonprofit, volunteer foundation dedicated to preserving our maritime heritage through the discovery, archaeological survey, and conservation of historic shipwrecks and their artifacts. Our purpose is also to reinforce public appreciation for our maritime past, present, and future by initiating and supporting projects designed to uncover and explore historically significant underwater sites before they are lost and gone forever.

Our goals include the protection of these historic sites through public information programs and to make available our archaeological reports and data on technical progress while perpetuating the names and legends of the sea-loving men and women who came before us.

I used to beg for funding, but because we search for history with no monetary return, few are willing to step forward and contribute. If I were to say we were searching for treasure, with our track record donors would probably line up for a city block. I wish I had a nickel for every person who has offered to help with funding, a boat, or equipment and then never called again.

Perhaps it’s all for the best that NUMA is primarily funded through my book royalties.

Why do I do it? Why do I initiate so many expeditions that are often an exercise in futility? One reason is that if it’s lost, I’ll look for it.

Why do I pour my money into the sea?

The answer probably lies in how I explain my philosophy to people who think I belong in a rubber room under restraint:

When the time comes and I am lying in a hospital bed two gasps away from the great beyond, I’d like the phone to ring. Then as a beautiful, young, buxom blond nurse leans over me and holds the receiver to my ear, the last words I hear before I drift off are those of my banker telling me my account is $10.00 overdrawn.

That’s the way to go.

Or, as I tell the audience when closing the Sea Hunters documentaries:

Now it’s your turn to get up off of the couch and go into the deserts, go into the mountains, go under the lakes, the rivers and the seas, and search for history.

You’ll never have a more rewarding adventure.