“Shipwrecks are wet catastrophes. Shipwreck narratives seek ways to dry them out.” — Steve Mentz, Shipwreck Modernities (2015)

The shipwreck narrative defines a significant part of the blue humanities, and it appears throughout the western literary canon. Shakespeare’s The Tempest (1611) for instance, with its opening scene of turmoil in the open ocean, represents the shipwreck experience as terrifying and uncontrollable. In the play, the character Gonzalo even considers his fate as certain only at sea in contrast to the security of the land, pleading that he would “give a thousand furlongs of sea for an / acre of barren ground” (1.1.68- 69). Homer’s The Odyssey likewise features a shipwrecked Odysseus striving to return home after a vengeful Poseidon strands him on an island. Thrown into tumult from the shipwreck, the watery environment only adds to the profound disorientation of each of these narrative as the protagonists struggle to survive and endure their time in the ocean.

From these experiences, her book offers an effective medium to interpret the intersection of the blue humanities and shipwrecks, especially the relationship that shipwreck narratives have to water. Sendzikas and I spoke to one another during an interview on this intersection, providing a forum for her to center the blue humanities in her research which already heavily involves aquatic thinking. Through this Re/View, an overview of our interview and references to Lucky 73 together put a spotlight on the shipwreck narrative as told by those who lived it.

Lucky 73 explains the story of how the USS Pampanito rescued POWs from the ocean after the Japanese ship they were imprisoned on was sunk by “a wolf pack of three subs… Growler, Sealion, and Pampanito.” Serendipitously finding the survivors of the shipwreck three days later while on patrol, the crew of the Pampanito believed them to be Japanese who survived the attack from days before. As the survivors boarded the submarine of their rescuers, they told their story, writing it down and describing what had happened to them. They told of the surrender at the once seemingly invincible Singapore in 1942 where many of them were captured; of the Thai-Burma Railroad which the Japanese forced them to construct; and of their later voyage to Japanese labor camps before being shipwrecked in the Pacific. Such labor multiplied in difficulty with the addition of illness and poor weather conditions unrelentingly harming the POWs. The transportation process for the POWs itself too was torturous. Transported through ships known as “Hellships,” these vessels were where the POWs sat in captivity when the USS Pampanito and company engaged in an attack against the Japanese. The story of their time at sea as a result of this attack, covered in oil while enduring uncertainty and strain for three days, is the part of the research for Lucky 73 on which Sendzikas and I focused our conversation.

Illustrating the shipwreck as an event through the lens of water emphasizes the unique challenges brought on by the ocean. “The liquid aspect, the more fluid aspect, seems to me that the role that that played is that it just made it so much easier to, you know, fall asleep or faint and lose your grip and slip off into the water. And that fluidity was something that you had to fight against because you could easily, and so many of them did, just couldn’t hold on any longer, and just you know, floated away and drowned." The ocean consumes. It disappears people rather than having their bodies remain after their death. A shipwreck relies on the ocean to sustain even undramatic pressure following the initial sinking.

The moment of shipwreck, which is a defining element of this narrative, also comes up in our conversation along with the resulting whiplashing reactions to their surroundings. “The initial event, of course, is extremely sudden and unexpected… [it’s] a period of chaos and panic and just, you know, not knowing what’s going on and trying to find a way to survive, something to grab on to while trying to, you know, sort of figure out what exactly has happened… There’s this huge shift where they go from this massive chaos and violence to these three days of, you know, almost nothingness. Quiet. Isolation and desolation while they’re just floating and trying to survive." Such intense disorientation, marked by the overwhelming entrance into a disparate world, figures into the blue humanities theme of otherness, instability, and inevitable, constant shifting.

Camaraderie, which Marcus Rediker in Freedom Ship (2025) addresses as another theme of the blue humanties, also emerges as a critical component of the shipwreck narrative. “Having other people there with you is so essential to survival… after that initial shipwreck, there are some of the POWs mentioned, you know, just sort of being in that state of chaos thrown into the water, but then seeing some of their fellow POWs there in the water… getting together in groups and clinging to a piece of debris together. And it seems that it was more likely the ones who, you know, hung on to something by themselves and drifted off alone that had the least chance of survival. But just having other people to encourage each other, you know, try to convince each other that there’s still hope and there’s a reason to try and stay alive. I think it was just like immense for these men.” Submersion in aquatic space is a setting that innately indicates that one needs the assistance of others. During a shipwreck, this need is especially pronounced, making camaraderie a resource for endurance that the blue humanities stresses.

The rescue of the floating POWs itself becomes significant to the blue humanities, since there is an irony that the rescuer is both responsible for the shipwreck and is capable of securing people underwater. “The guys who were lost just sort of sinking down into the water and disappearing… It’s interesting that ultimately the survivors are rescued by a vessel which has the capability of submerging and keeping you alive underwater… You still haven’t really conquered the ocean. The ocean still has, you know, the upper hand. And just the fact that you’re still protected from the water that’s surrounding you, but you’re still surrounded by this water… Amazingly, [the rescued POWs] seem to feel absolutely safe [on the submarine]. They were like, this is it… But at least one of them made a comment to the effect of, you know, if we got torpedoed now, at least I would die on an American submarine. I would die a free man.”

In addition to reflecting on the rescue, Sendzikas and I also discuss the relationship of the USS Pampanito to memory of the Pacific theater of WWII. This draws out considerations for what aquatic space does to efforts to memorialize and create monuments to those whose stories take place in the ocean.

F: [How is the USS Pampanito] remembered given that it occurred in an oceanic space where memory struggles to exist, really struggles to become a site of memory?

S: I’ve reflected a lot on the concept of memorials and graves in these situations… I used to work at Pearl Harbor and just, you know, the Arizona Memorial itself is such a fascinating sight because it’s a tourist attraction. It’s the hulk of the ship sitting underwater, but it’s also a grave… [The USS Bowfin memorial at Pearl Harbor], consisting of 52 plaques plaques, mounted plaques, was put together. And I was always struck by the popularity of that memorial, particularly on the part of families… Family members had no literal grave to go to… In the case of Pampanito in San Fransisco, you know, there’s no land, nothing similar, no memorial plaques for the lost submarines or anything like that. So as I think you were saying, the submarine itself serves as a memorial in the sense that the family members want to visit in the same sense that they might want to visit a grave.

Each Re/View shows how bringing water to the center of research changes how we engage with that research. Regarding the use of the blue humanities lens in reflecting on her research here, Sendzikas reflects on the experiences of the POWs and how they related directly to the oceanic environment of their shipwreck.

F: Since we last spoke, I was wondering if you had the chance to look into the blue humanities and how it relates to your research?

S: Thinking about blue humanities sort of gave me an opportunity to look at my research, particularly the story of Pampanito, as told in my book, from a different perspective. I realized that water is such an important part of the story, but I’ve never looked at the story before particularly focusing on the significance or the role that’s played by water. It’s something that pops up, you know, in my thoughts and my research occasionally. I recall doing an interview with one of the children of, the adult children, of the rescued prisoners of war, and she kept stressing that their father made sure that every one of his children knew how to swim, and that seemed to be the thing from the experience that really stuck with him the most. Just this idea that being able to survive the water and knowing how to swim was a very vital factor that was essential to teach his children.