The Hurricane Hunters

by Ivan Ray Tannehill

Most of them occur in the late summer or early fall. At that season, on the islands in the tropics where the natives in other centuries took life easy, depending on nature’s lavish gifts of fruit and other foods, the tropical storm came as an occasional catastrophe. Trees went down in howling gales, rain came in torrents, flooding the hilly sections, big waves deluged the coasts, and frail native houses were swept away in an uproar of the elements. The survivors thought they had done something to displease one of the mythical beings who ruled the winds and the waters. In the Caribbean region, it was supposed to be the god of the big winds, Hunrakan, from which the name hurricane originated. His evil face seemed to leer from the darkening clouds as the elements raged.

In time, Europeans settled in the islands and on the southeastern coasts of America. They dreaded the approach of late summer, when copper-colored clouds of a tropical storm might push slowly upward from the southeastern horizon. What they learned about them came mostly from the natives, who had long memories for such frightening things and reckoned the time of other events from the years of great hurricanes. Strangely enough, although during the more than four hundred years that have passed since then, man has finally mastered thermo-nuclear reactions capable of permanent destruction of whole islands, he still probes for the secret of storm forces of far greater power.

It is hard to say who was the first hunter of storms. Columbus and his sailors were constantly on the lookout and actually saw several West Indian hurricanes. Luckily, they didn’t run into one on their first voyage, or the story of the discovery of America would be quite different, for the ships sailed by Columbus were not able to stand up against these big winds of the tropics. They would have been sunk in deep water or cast ashore as worthless wrecks.

If Columbus had been lost in one of these monstrous storms—and he didn’t miss it by very much—it might have been many years before another navigator with a stout heart could have induced men to risk their lives in the uncharted winds of the far places in the Atlantic Ocean. Out there toward the end of the world, where increasing gales dragged ships relentlessly in the direction of the setting sun, sailors who ventured too far would drop off the edge of a flat earth and plunge screaming into eternity—so they thought. Only in Columbus’ mind was the earth a sphere.

By the time Columbus had made his third voyage to the West Indies, he had learned a good deal about hurricanes and how to keep out of them. He got this information by his own wits and from talking with the natives in the islands bordering the Caribbean. They told him of storms much more powerful than any that were brewed in European waters. After listening to their tales, he was afraid of them. In 1494 he hid his fleet behind an island while a hurricane roared by. The next year, an unexpected one sank three of his vessels and the others took such a beating that he declared, “Nothing but the service of God and the extension of the monarchy would induce me to expose myself to such dangers.”

In 1499, a Spaniard named Francisco Bobadilla was appointed governor and judge of the Colony on Hispaniola (Santo Domingo). He sent false charges back to Spain, accusing Columbus of being unjust and often brutal in his treatment of the natives. Columbus was ordered back to Spain in chains. Here he remained in disgrace until December, 1500. By that time the true nature of Bobadilla’s treachery had become known.

By the spring of 1502, Columbus had been vindicated and was on his way back to the West Indies with four ships and 150 men. During his earlier voyages he had become deeply respectful of these big winds of the New World. When he arrived at San Domingo on this last voyage, his observations made him suspect the approach of a hurricane. At the same time, a fleet carrying rich cargoes was instructed to take Bobadilla back to Spain. It was ready to depart. Columbus asked for permission to shelter his squadron in the river and he sent a message, urging the fleet to put off its departure until the storm had passed.

Bluntly, both of Columbus’ requests were denied. He found a safe place in the lee of the island but the fleet carrying Bobadilla departed in the face of the hurricane and all but one vessel went to the bottom. Bobadilla went down with them, which seemed to be a fitting end for the scoundrel who had been guilty of hatching up false charges against Columbus.

After the time of Columbus, better ships were built and the fear of storms diminished. Seafaring men today are likely to get the idea that modern ships of war and trade are immune to hurricanes. They have a brush or two with minor storms or escape the worst of a larger one and cease to be afraid of the big winds of the West Indies. Now and then this attitude leads to disaster.

In September, 1944, the Weather Bureau spotted a violent storm in the Atlantic, northeast of Puerto Rico. It grew in fury and moved toward the Atlantic Coast of the United States. The forecasters called it the “Great Atlantic Hurricane.” Being usually conservative, Weather Bureau forecasters seldom use the word “great” when warning of hurricanes and when they do, it is time for everybody to be on guard. In this case, the casualties at sea included one destroyer, two Coast Guard cutters, a light vessel and a mine sweeper. This should have been sufficient evidence of the power of the tropical storm to destroy modern warships, but just three months later a big typhoon caught the Navy off guard in the Pacific and proved the case beyond the slightest doubt.