The Vasa and the shipbuilder's tea
King Gustav-Adolfus of Sweden was a fearsome man: usually donned in black armour and seen brandishing a bared broadsword in royal portraits, he was known to his contemporaries as the "Lion of the North". He had taken Sweden from being a batlefield betwen Danes and Germans, and turned the country into a force to be reckoned with. Gustav-Adolfus had defeated each of Sweden's neighbours soundly in battle: and now, it was time to humiliate them at sea.
The King commissioned a shipbuilder to construct the largest vessel to sail the seas; the Vasa. It was to have two decks, brimming with cannon, the figurehead chased in gold, the masts as high as mountains.
The shipbuilder showed the King his plans. "Not enough cannon!" the king roared. "Build another deck!"
The shipbuilder's spirit quaked, and his knees went weak. Another deck would make the vessel unstable. But he had no choice: the fearsome king would not listen to any voice but his own.
With days left before the Vasa was due to be launched on its maiden voyage, the craftsmen were muttering amongst themselves. It was plainly apparent that the warship would list far too much. The shipbuilder suffered nightmares, envisaging himself on the rack, his family exiled to bitter Lapland. His sheets were stained with the sweat of a man who knows his doom was inevitable.
The ship neared completion. It was glorious: encrusted with gilt, three rows of fearsome cannon, and mighty anchors. From his palace in the heart of Gamlastan, the centre of Stockholm, Gustav-Adolfus summonsed the ambassadors of his rival nations. They along with the citizens of Stockholm would watch the ship's launch, and see it sail for deployment against the Danes. It would be the king's moment of glory.
The shipbuilder conducted a secret test: he had the ship lowered into the water late one night, and had his men run from one side to the other. The masts rocked like pendulums and the test had to stop lest the warship topple.
One night, the shipbuilder was walking across the deck towards the stern of the vessel, running stiffened fingers through his grey hair as he paced in desperation. An artisan from abroad had given him a bag of herbs, something which was assured to calm his plainly frayed nerves. He sipped the brew. The tea was piping hot: he winced, dropped the mug, and slipped on the wet deck, cracking his skull open.
The Vasa set sail a few days later. It travlled for less then a kilomtere before toppling into the sea in Stockholm's harbour, killing half the crew. The cost of the vessel was enormous, and its sudden loss effectively bankrupted the country.
An investigation was launched. Initally the shipbuilder's name was tarnished in disgrace: it gradually became apparent that he had acted on the orders of the king, and the investigation was abruptly ended. Deep sea diving bells were used to recover some of the cannon, but otherwise the vessel was forgotten for centuries.
Salvage efforts in the 1970s raised the Vasa from its watery grave. Amongst the items recovered were the skeletons of crewmen which were crushed under cannon (identities unknown), sealed bottles of beer (part of the ship's provisions), and dried pouches of tea (owner, unknown).
