HMS King Edward VII - British Bulldog
My eyes finally adjusted to the ambient light as I ascended from the wreck from a depth of 117m/386ft. As I looked down, the shadowed, panoramic picture and sheer, unexpected size of 16,500 tons of pre-dreadnought battleship below me became apparent. My small area of exploration seemed laughable in comparison; we were dealing with one huge shipwreck. The date was 16 June 1997 and the days to follow would see a new generation of deep wreck divers explore and document this deep virgin wreck. Logging a total of twenty-four, manned dives with six hours on the wreck, the King Edward VII project would be the first of its kind in Europe to see sport divers physically exploring a wreck deeper than 100m/330ft. HMS King Edward VII left Scapa Flow for Belfast on 6 January 1916. At approximately 10:47, just off Cape Wrath, north Scotland, a violent explosion took place under the starboard engine room. The explosion happened just three minutes before the helm was due for its next turn as the ship zigzagged to avoid enemy submarine attacks. Through no fault of his own, Captain Maclachlan had fatally moved his ship onto an altered course of 289° and into the path of a minefield laid by the German raider Moewe.
The story of the was first brought to my attention during a conversation with John Thornton at Lyness in the Orkney Islands during the summer of 1994. John was a tall, stocky Englishman who had settled in the Orkneys to build a business as a charter boat skipper to lying quite literally on John’s doorstep and just outside of the Flow, was the last resting place of Lord Kitchener, the man whose image famously graced war posters with the slogan, “Your Country Needs You!” just as Uncle Sam had done across America. Kitchener was a field marshal, cabinet minister and the Secretary of State for War. He was on a diplomatic mission to Russia when the hit a mine and sank along with 650 men. The had been lost with no trace, apparently in deep water, and the was at a depth previously unheard of. John passed me a book! It was by Gordon Ridley, and he referred me to the entry. It read, “The depth is 108m/357ft with a clearance of 94m/310ft so the wreck is only of academic interest to sport divers.” I looked up and, after a pause of silence, John smiled before saying, “Now thereby hangs a challenge, Mr. Bishop.” She was launched by His Majesty King Edward VII on 23 July 1903, and it was reported that in giving consent for the ship to bear his name, King Edward VII stipulated that she should always serve as flagship to the Atlantic fleet. In 1912, she, together with her sister ships, formed the 3rd Battle Squadron, but misfortune would inevitably get the better of the great flagship. After she struck the mine, mayhem ensued, and the helm was immediately thrown hard to starboard with the intention of heading to shore and beaching the ship if necessary. Below decks, the immense rush of water prevented any attempt to close the watertight doors between the engine rooms. With both engines stopped and flooded, and force 7 gales blowing from the west with heavily rising seas, HMS started listing eight degrees to starboard. With pressure still on the main derrick, Captain Maclachlan immediately considered it advisable to get all lifeboats into the water and abandon ship. She was tossed in heavy seas for several hours. At 22:10 she turned over and disappeared beneath the waves. Eighty years later, Skipper John Thornton excitedly called me into the wheelhouse of the MV that had been given to us by the Admiralty Hydrographic Department appeared on the echo sounder. Sixty-five fathoms below was a wreck so large she could be nothing other than the HMS
