According to the two divers, the 'Wignall Expedition' had laboured long and hard throughout the
previous summer searching for the sunken
wreck. As was stated earlier a pewter plate
had been found with Señor Matuta's name on
it. Nothing more really - perhaps, some ballast
- I forget most of the details at this distance
of time. They said that as the diving season
drew to its conclusion Sidney Wignall got
increasingly morose and unpredictable, without
even a civil word for his long-suffering
divers all of whom were out there without
pay, on a 'shares basis' should any treasure
be found. On the final evening of the search,
when the weary crew had dragged themselves
ashore to make preparations for the return
to their homes empty handed after the season's
labours, Sidney Wignall decided to take his
large search-boat out over the wreck site
and set fire to it in a bizarre duplication
of a Viking cremation - without him on board
of course! Only the boat would be destroyed
- a valuable boat - a boat that the disappointed and
out-of-pocket divers implored him to give
to them rather than wantonly destroy such
a valuable craft.
They could have sold it, and split the proceeds
amongst themselves, in order that at least
they wouldn't be returning to England completely
empty-handed. Wignall wouldn't listen to
their pleas, and sure enough, as night fell,
the lovely yacht was sailed out to the position
that was thought to be directly above the
white bones of the late much-lamented Matuta
and his companions. Petrol was poured over
it, and Wignall struck a match and threw
it onto the deck before jumping into a small
rubber workboat and making back to the shore.
This incomprehensible acurned most of his
divers against him. All loyalty to the former
leader evaporated immediately - the bond
was severed irrevocably. It was Wignall's
treatment of his men had brought Terry and
Joe into our lives.
THE GREY DOVE
Apart from the dwindling numbers of genuine
serving or retired Master Mariners, the majority
of 'Lunch-Time' members were men who were
involved in the maritime services and supply
Industries, such as stevedoring, paint manufactures,
ship's chandlery and the like. It was a good
meeting place to encounter other people working
in the busy world of the Liverpool Docks,
and many a profitable contract was sealed
over a congenial glass of beer aboard The
Landfall all those years ago. Two such commercially
minded regular diners were Brian Hotchkiss,
who was a certificated Master Mariner, and
his colleague, whose name escapes me after
all these years! They were both directors
of a locally based engineering company named Unilat Engineering of the Corn Exchange Buildings. It's strange
that I can't recall the name of the second
man, for he was the driving force, and I
suspect the senior figure in the business.
A charming, impeccably dressed, good-looking
Welshman, with a fluency of tongue and an
adventuresome engaging spirit.
They were obvious choices as additional partners
in the Treasure Hunt, not only because they
were engineers, which was a welcome capacity
for such a project, and not only because
Brian was a sea-captain with his knowledge
of the wind and the tides and the ways of
the sea - but also because they owned a sea-going
boat! The acquisition of a diving-boat was
something we had agonised about. We had assumed
that we would have to hire an expensive vessel
for this purpose. This was just what we needed!
The vessel that they owned, and which was
registered in the name of Unilat Engineering,
was The Grey Dove.
The boat was a converted German E- boat,
which had been impounded by the British in
1944 at the time of The D-Day landings. Since
that time she'd enjoyed a varied career,
including towing targets for naval artillery
practice. With her huge thrusting engines
designed for high-speed surprise attack,
spacious decks and comfortable accommodation,
she would make an ideal diving-platform and
floating Bed & Breakfast for divers and
crew. Unilat Engineering subsequently agreed
to join the venture, and a meeting was convened
aboard The Landfall in order to hammer out
the financial detail of the business aspects
of the tripartite relationship between Compass
Catering, Unilat Engineering and the active
Diving participants in the projected expedition.
Agreement was reached that Compass Catering
would supply all food, victuals, and a cook
for the divers and crew, together with an
Air Compressor for replenishing the divers
bottles.
Unilat Engineering would provide The Grey
Dove, a captain and crew, and would pay for
the fuel consumed during the project; they
would also bring special underwater pressure
blasting equipmeno blow away the sand that
would have settled on the wreck.
The divers, recruited by the McCormack brothers,
would number ten. Their contribution would
be obvious - they would locate and bring
up to the surface the glittering prize of
Spanish gold to be shared among the participants.
The expedition was expected to last for five
months, that being the length of the diving
season in the waters off County Kerry.
The Expedition Leader was to be Terry McCormack,
and his word was to be paramount in any disputations
or disagreements. After much consideration,
Colin and I thought it best if Ronnie accompanied
the expedition acting as the cook, a suggestion
with which Ronnie readily agreed. This would
fulfil that part of out commitment, and mean
that we had an on the spot observer to watch
over our interests. The unpleasant truth
was that the McCormack brothers had (however
understandably) broken their word to the
former expedition leader Sidney Wignall,
and it would do no harm to have our own man
at the heart of the operation, watching developments
and monitoring progress. Further meetings
solved all the smaller details of organisation,
and it was during this period that perhaps
inevitably, the story got out, perhaps during
the interviewing of applicant divers. The
press got news of the venture, at first locally
via The Liverpool Echo - then the national
newspapers published reports.
I was interviewed by BBC and ITV television.
[The BBC paid me £5.50p for a three and a
half minute live interview!] Somehow, I always
managed to mention our floating club by name!
It had all the elements of a good story -
SUNKEN TREASURE - GOLD - AN EX-GERMAN E BOAT
- and RIVAL TEAMS OF DIVERS! Reporters besieged
us!
It was good for business! On Wednesday 22
May, we received a telegram from North Wales's
businessman Sidney Wignall warning us from
interfering with, or diving on the wreck.
Wignall claimed that he'd authority from
the Spanish Government that gave him sole
diving rights. A newspaper accused us of
being 'pirates'! This development wasn't
unexpected by our alliance, and we decided
to ignore the threat of court action which
also figured in the telegram. Final preparations
were made for the vessel to sail, and at
5.30am on 22 May 1969, The Grey Dove slipped
out to sea. The newspapers were following
the developments closely, and regular updates
appeared in all the British daily papers.
I gave many interviews to reporters, but
played my cards pretty close to my chest.
But while the sharp bow of The Grey Dove
cuhrough the cold, leaden waters of the Irish
Sea - destination Kinsale - the wily Wignall
wasn't wasting time. Not many people know
that the law provides a mechanism for those
who believe that the law is about to be broken.
It's called an ' injunction' This means that
a person can go to the home of a Magistrate,
wake him or her from slumber in the middle
of the night. If someone is successful in
convincing the Officer of the Law that a
transgression of the law, or misdemeanour,
is about to take place, then the Magistrate
can issue an injunction which prohibits the
named party or parties from further action
until the case has been brought to court
and a decision made on the matter. This is
what Mr Wignall did.
The result was that as The Grey Dove purred
quietly into Kinsale Dock in County Cork,
the expeditionaries were greeted by the sight
of three Irish Guardia vehicles with blue
revolving lights flashing waiting patiently
on the quayside. A smiling, ruddy-complexioned
Irish Police sergeant handed the grim faced
Terry a thin buff coloured envelope. Terry's
stubby fingers ripped open the official-looking
missive - twenty-five eyes watched anxiously,
(one of his thirteen companions only had
one eye!) as their leader scanned the sheet
of paper. Terry sighed, shoulders hunched
he turned to the waiting men standing in
a tired bunch on the gently moving deck -
"That's it lads" he grated - "Wignall
is taking us to bloody court - he has served
an injunction against us - we cant dive on
The Santa Maria until the judge decides whether
we can or not! " He crumpled the paper
and shoved it contemptuously into the back
pocket of his heavy-weather trousers - "
C'mon lads lets get cleaned up and go to
the nearest pub and talk it over for Christ's
Sake!"
Not exactly, what you would call an Irish Welcome don't you agree? Ronnie telephoned us from
the pub a few hours later a little the worse
for drink - and I didn't blame him for that.
We called an immediate meeting of the backers.
Later that night we decided on our strategy.
In short, it was this. We couldn't accept
that the Spanish government had any prerogative
either ethically or legally, to award any
exclusive rights to dive on the wreck of
a Spanish warship that had been lost during
an act of aggression against the British
Crown at a time when the whole of Ireland
was part of the British Empire. It seemed
to us, as Liverpudlians, that it was the
same as giving The Federal Republic of Germany
the right to claim and exercise ownership
of a wartime Nazi bomber, that on its cruel
mission of bombing the Fish & Chip shops
of our city, had crashed into the waters
of Liverpool Bay. In our minds - if you lose
a vessel or a tank, or a Landing Craft (as
in The Bay of Pigs invasion by CIA funded
Cuban mercenaries) - in some military action
- particularly as an outright aggressor,
as the Spanish (and Cuban Émigré) forces
certainly were, then you can't expect any
recompense if things go wrong and you lose
your vessels and vehicles of transport! It
was a downright cheek wasn't it? As the Secretary
of the Expeditionary Consortium,
Irish Times Article |
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I was instructed to write and send off a
telegram to The Irish President. Late that
night, as the sounds of 'Mrs. Robins' and
'Hickory Holler's Tramp' throbbed up from
the Disco dancing lower deck of a packed
Clubship Landfall, I composed the following
telegram to Mr. De Valero the President of
The Republic of Eire. After submitting it
to a further meeting of the consortium and
to our solicitor for his approval, the telegram
was sent a few days later. I reproduce the
text of the communication.
And so it was that as the last days of May
1969 drew out, The Grey Dove rode quietly
at anchor in the pewter coloured water of
Dingle harbour in County Kerry, for the injunction
did not inhibit further progress around the
coast from the Port of Kinsale. Gently breasting
the strong regular rollers that had found
life in the murky fastnesses of the far off
Grand Banks, three thousand miles away in
the New World, The Grey Dove bobbed and lurched
on the gentle swell of Neptune's quilt. The
divers and crew bobbed and lurched to the
plaintive sounds of the flutes and fiddles
of the warm-hearted welcoming Celtic seaport's
Public Houses.
Liverpool folk always get a special welcome
in Ireland. Culturally and economically,
there was hardly any difference between the
experience and background of a Scouser, and
that of an Irishman. Well, that is the way
it was in those far off days. The upshot
of the whole affair was that after appearing
in court in Dublin we lost the case. The
appellant, Sidney Wignall was granted sole
diving rights on the Santa Maria Della Rosa.
The only consolation was that he'd to pay
his own costs
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