the Vasa was to carry them, but perhaps they were ashore. They may have been at Älvsnabben, waiting to get on when the visitors got off.
It is said that a mild breeze was blowing across the harbor that afternoon, yet the Vasa listed farther than expected when the first sails were broken out. As she righted herself the chief ordnance officer, Erik Jönsson, ran below to make certain the cannons were lashed in place.
A few minutes later a gust of wind blew around the high cliffs of Söder and the Vasa heeled sharply. Again she righted herself, but Captain Hansson ordered the topsails cut loose.
The wind dropped. The ship moved heavily toward Beckholmen.
Then a fresh gust struck the sails and for the second time Jönsson ran below. Water was pouring through the open gunports. He gave orders to untie the cannons on the lower side and to haul them up the slanting deck, but this was impossible. Several cannons broke loose, crushing the sailors who unwisely had tried to push them.
The Vasa went down almost at once and came to rest nearly upright on the bottom, her mainmast angling above the surface and Sweden’s banner fluttering valiantly in the sunshine. She had traveled less than a mile.
About fifty people drowned. Many more would have been lost except that the giant ship was accompanied by a fleet of pleasure boats which picked up survivors.
Captain Hansson, along with every other officer, was arrested that same afternoon. Also arrested were those involved with the construction—excluding the designer, a Dutchman named Henrik Hybertsson who had died the previous year.
On September 5 a formal inquiry opened. The official record seems to have been destroyed, though we do not know whether this was deliberate or accidental. However, copies of certain parts of it have been found so that the procedure, as well as quite a few names and details, can be established. We know there were seventeen members of the court including six councilors of the realm, two naval captains, and the lord mayor of Stockholm. The president was Lord High Admiral Carl Gyllenhielm, King Gustav’s half brother.
The court’s first purpose was to determine the cause of the disaster, then to fix the blame. Yet it becomes obvious that while they did want to know why the ship went down they were more anxious to learn who was responsible. The suspects may or may not have been aware of this priority; if they were, they must have felt uncomfortable because seventeenth-century punishment was no pat on the wrist.
For instance, according to Swedish naval articles of 1644, a helmsman who ran his ship aground could be keel-hauled, which meant being towed underwater from stem to stern. Or he might be dragged from port to starboard by way of the keel. The penalty for causing a fire aboard ship was more direct: the guilty man was promptly thrown into the flames. Less serious offences, such as whispering during a lecture, brought fourteen days in irons. Nor does there seem to have been much plea bargaining.
If records of the Vasa inquiry are accurate, the first crew member of any importance to be narrowly questioned was the ordnance officer, Erik Jönsson. After testifying that the cannons had been secured and could not have rolled across the deck, causing the Vasa to capsize, Jönsson added that he thought the ship “was heavier over than under.” It would have capsized in any event, he said.
Admiral Gyllenhielm asked why he had not discussed this with the captain.
Jönsson replied that he was an artilleryman and pretended to be nothing else. The captain, he said, should be better able to judge whether the ship was properly ballasted.
Gyllenhielm pointed out that the ship’s builder had said that if he had been informed the ship was top-heavy he would have recommended loading her down another foot.
How could that have been done, Jönsson asked, when the gunports already lay but three feet from the surface?
Lieutenant Petter Gierdsson, who had been in charge of rigging, told the court that he, too, considered the ship top-heavy. When asked why he had kept this opinion to himself he replied that ballast was something about which he knew nothing. He did not even know what sort of ballast the Vasa carried. He had been concerned only with the rigging.
Jöran Matsson, sailing master, was formally charged with having paid too little attention to the ballast “and other things as his calling and office made incumbent upon him, whereby disaster had befallen His Majesty’s ship.”
Matsson answered that he had stowed as much ballast as possible. Furthermore, he said, he personally had supervised this work. He had gone down into the bilge with a light to inspect the loading. He felt that he had done whatever was incumbent upon him.
Did he notice that the ship was top-heavy?
Matsson then revealed what everybody in Stockholm except the high officers of the court must have known—that while the Vasa was still at her mooring Captain Hansson, in the presence of Admiral Fleming, had ordered a capsizing test. Matsson then repeated a short discussion between himself and the admiral in which the admiral said that the ship rode too low in the water because of so much ballast. To this criticism Matsson had replied: “God grant that she’ll stay on an even keel.” And to this Admiral Fleming replied: “The builder has built ships before. You need not worry about it.”
After questioning several other people the court summoned the builder, Hein Jacobsson. He had not begun the work, but he had completed it after the death of Henrik Hybertsson. He was asked why he had made the Vasa so narrow. He answered that he had not laid the keel, he had only finished what already was begun. Furthermore, King Gustav had approved the plans. There were no blueprints in the seventeenth century, merely a table known as a “sert” which listed the principal dimensions and which was regarded also as a contract to build. Hybertsson had drawn this sert, said Jacobsson, in accordance with the king’s wishes.
Arent Hybertsson de Groot, the original builder’s brother, was questioned. Why, he was asked, did the Vasa have such a large superstructure?
His Majesty had approved it, said de Groot. And all who saw or inspected the ship had agreed that she was irreproachably built.
If that is true, asked the court, why did she capsize?
“God must know,” de Groot answered. “His Majesty the King was told by me how long and how broad the ship was, and His Majesty was pleased to approve and wished to have it so.”
The court probed this delicate situation. Although the king had approved the sert, should not the builder in good conscience have informed His Majesty as to the correct dimensions?
Neither Jacobsson nor de Groot would argue. Both of them replied: “The King wished it so.”
Too many footsteps led toward Gustav’s palace. The inquiry ended without establishing a cause and without finding anyone responsible—as far as we know.
If that actually is how the investigation concluded, it’s hard to believe. Could everybody be innocent? Fifty people were drowned, either through incompetence or negligence; therefore somebody must be guilty. Yet whom would you convict?
The ordnance officer? Beyond doubt the cannons were tied down. Even if they were not, they couldn’t have been the cause.
The sailing master? Unquestionably he checked the ballast. Furthermore, he had spoken to Admiral Fleming about the ship’s instability.
The builder? He didn’t plan the Vasa, he only completed it.
The
