Can A Ship Die Of A Broken Heart?
by Mike Walling
New York Post
Historic vessel mysteriously sinks in NYC — just days after schooner-turned-bar met similar fate
By Katherine Donlevy, Published July 7, 2026, 4:27 p.m. ET
A historic vessel owned by a company that turns ships into floating restaurants mysteriously sank beneath Brooklyn waters — just days after a schooner-turned-bar met a similar fate.
The Victory Chimes — the last surviving Chesapeake Ram schooner and a US National Historic Landmark — was discovered on the floor of the Henry Street Basin near Red Hook sometime Sunday.
The 126-year-old boat’s giant masts were still sticking straight out of the polluted waters — directly next to those of the Pilot, which mysteriously sank in the middle of the night just days earlier July 1.
The incidents came as other historic ships from across the globe converged in the connected New York Harbor over Fourth of July weekend for America’s 250th anniversary.
NYC — just days after schooner-turned-bar met similar fate
By Katherine Donlevy, Published July 7, 2026, 4:27 p.m. ET
A historic vessel owned by a company that turns ships into floating restaurants mysteriously sank beneath Brooklyn waters — just days after a schooner-turned-bar met a similar fate.
The Victory Chimes — the last surviving Chesapeake Ram schooner and a US National Historic Landmark — was discovered on the floor of the Henry Street Basin near Red Hook sometime Sunday.
The 126-year-old boat’s giant masts were still sticking straight out of the polluted waters — directly next to those of the Pilot, which mysteriously sank in the middle of the night just days earlier July 1.
A historic vessel owned by a company that turns ships into floating restaurants mysteriously sank beneath Brooklyn waters — just days after a schooner-turned-bar met a similar fate.
The Victory Chimes — the last surviving Chesapeake Ram schooner and a US National Historic Landmark — was discovered on the floor of the Henry Street Basin near Red Hook sometime Sunday.
The 126-year-old boat’s giant masts were still sticking straight out of the polluted waters — directly next to those of the Pilot, which mysteriously sank in the middle of the night just days earlier July 1.
Do you believe ships have hearts and souls? I do. Particularly old hand-built, hand-crafted wooden ships, who were shaped and given life by men whose lives were dedicated to creating a living beings.
Ships made from centuries old trees, who imparted their souls to these beautiful, graceful daughters.
The Victory Chimes, built in 1900, she was a 128-foot, three-masted Chesapeake Ram schooner who spent. After spending decades hauling cargo and sailing as a celebrated Maine windjammer.
The Pilot a celebrated, century-old wooden gaff-topsail schooner. Over her 100-year history, she evolved from a competitive North Atlantic racing vessel to the longest-serving pilot ship in American history. She continued her work as a pilot vessel for over 50 years. In the 1970s, the ship entered a new phase as a global research and expedition vessel. She reportedly took on passengers for a journey to the Galapagos Islands—hosting the legendary oceanographer Jacques Cousteau aboard.
When deemed too unsafe for blue water sailing. both ships were ripped from their homes.
For Victory Chimes, no more night sailing, no more storms, no more dolphins playing in her bow wave. Now infested with tourists who don’t know port from starboard or gaff from mainsail.
The Pilot, gutted, turned into tourist attractions. No more wind in their sails, no more feel of the sea, more taste of saltwater over the bow, no more love of their crews.
Last week watching their daughters and granddaughters sail past broke their hearts and killed their souls. For the Pilot and Victory Chimes had, by heartless, soulless men, been condemned to rot away as other soulless people used them for their pleasure.
No more crews of hard-handed men to haul sail, revel with joy the open sea and fearful storms. Soft, glittering people now sat within them, speaking of trivial things, not of life and death decisions, of soul filling sunrises, the sweep of the Milky Way.
Two old friends, the last of the breed, decided it was time to go. They died in each other’s arms sharing memories one last time.
