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A professor had asked Tommy in 1973, "How are we going to work in the deep ocean?" Fourteen years later, his answer had produced a 2 1/2 ton submersible "that eventually would grow to six tons, with nine mechanical arms, some having as many as 11 segments," along with video and still cameras, strobes, thrusters, suction picker and collections drawers, all controllable through 8,000 ft. of complex cable. Thompson's driving intellect pushed the technology, and his flatfooted, no-blarney confidence persuaded a consortium of Columbus businessmen to put up very large chunks of money. By the summer of 1987, the submersible was diving in deep water, to a large wooden wreck spotted by the expedition's sonar. Men and machinery worked beautifully, but what they proved was that the wreck was not the Central America.
By September 1989-after years of heroism, obsession, storms, electronic sulks, budget ruptures and challenges in court and at sea-the story was different. Thompson's expedition brought up a large part of the Central America's gold bars, dust and nuggets, valued at nearly $1 billion in 1989 dollars. It wasn't easy money, but it sure is a great story. Kinder tells it in fascinating, exhaustive detail, including the following information: as part of the process of securing rights to a wreck, marine law requires that you file a lawsuit. Against whom--Neptune? Close; you sue the wreck itself. Just lower a lawyer in the submersible's claw, and res gestae, the loot is yours.