By Lance Bark

Florida has no shortage of maritime history, and the sleepy little seaside town of Delray will forever be linked to a tragedy that occurred there a little more than a century ago. A freighter called the S.S. Inchulva, now known as the Delray wreck, washed ashore during a hurricane; nine people were killed. The Delray wreck also holds a special place in my own diving history since it’s where I completed my open-water scuba certification in August 1975.

Around 1894 the first landowners arrived in the area and called their town Linton, for which Linton Boulevard is now named. Later they changed the name to Delray Beach, which in Spanish means “Beach Of The King.”

The 150 townsfolk did not have it easy in the beautiful seaside village. No electricity, no paved roads and very little communication with the outside world. Their days were spent trying to farm and stay alive with their meager yield of crops and whatever they could harvest from the sea.

With little advance warning, destruction rained down on Delray in the form of a Category 1 hurricane blowing in from the Bahamas in the late afternoon of Sept. 11, 1903. The next morning the town awoke to the devastation of local homes and businesses and what was left of the 398-foot freighter that lay 200 yards offshore. It was broken into untold pieces. Such is the sad end of a beautiful ship and her colorful history which started in England in 1892.

I have visited the wreck many times over the years and always have had fantastic dives. On this quiet Sunday morning I’m diving with my buddy Bill Rushing and we are eager to see what she has in store for us.

We arrive early to get a good parking space and after suiting up we do a surface swim to 150 yards off the beach. The sun is still low over the horizon and the ocean looks like a pool of tranquil oil. A sea turtle breaks the surface on our right as if to see who dares to enter his home at this hour. The only waves we encounter are from a small flock of pelicans landing close by. They’re curious to see what the commotion is all about.

Using a compass heading of 110 degrees off the north light pole by the boat ramp, the kick out is only 10 or 15 minutes. In water that is only 20 to 25 feet deep, we soon see scattered wreckage.

We deflate our vests and slowly descend into the quite blue pool of Mother Ocean. We lightly touch down and do a gear check and get our bearings. Steel plates are everywhere and we are surrounded by schooling grunts and yellowtail snappers.

Slowly we approach an upright plate and see it covered in soft coral and yellow tube worms. As the morning sun rises higher in the sky, more light illuminates the wreck and the fish community comes alive. We see two lobsters peering out from under some wreckage and not far from them a green moray is standing vigil by his hole.

The Delray wreck is a macro photographer’s dream. Every piece of the ship is covered with soft and hard corals—the yellows and reds seem to be glowing as if someone turned on a light switch. Tiny hermit crabs abound along with red-and-white-striped coral-banded shrimp. Neon-blue cleaner shrimp also live here.

We proceed in a southerly direction until coming upon the ship’s boiler. A huge cylindrical shape about 10 feet tall and 8 feet in diameter, it’s covered with green and brown star corals. Darting in and about the small holes on the boiler are abundant schools of damselfish and baby sergeant majors. Bigger fish such as jack, barracudas and large gray angels are always swimming close by. Looking closer at the living forest, we can find cleaner and neon gobies.

The sands at the wreck site are always shifting so each dive reveals a new piece that may have been previously covered up. As we cross over a sandy patch on the way to other parts of the wreck we see a huge Atlantic stingray awaken from its bed. With a few flaps of its majestic wings this underwater magic carpet slowly glides away into the blue mist. I remain, caught in a trance.

The wreckage covers several hundred feet so Bill and I continue on our journey.

The parallel lines in the sand make for a beautiful aquatic painting as sand crabs and southern skates nestle in the grooves. We find some more wreckage and see two midnight blue parrotfish looking bright and shiny in the growing morning light.

It is a well known fact that fish love wreckage of any kind and congregate on them in large numbers. The Delray wreck is no exception. You will spend many dives trying to name all the species that call the S.S. Inchulva home.

As we turn from the dive and head back home, I think of that day long ago, in August 1975, and feel the excitement that coursed through my body at the unbelievable world that was opening up for me.

I’m a little older now, but I feel like today was my first dive again.

Lance Bark is a scuba instructor who offers private lessons and guided dives. 954-895-7733 / lancetbark@hotmail.com