For centuries, chilling stories of ghost ships like the Flying Dutchman and the Mary Celeste have been passed down from one generation of seafarers to the next. As eerie as these tales of abandoned ships are, there is another even more disturbing class of haunted vessels - those vessels found sailing the seas unguided by a human hand because every member of their unfortunate crews mysteriously perished. This is the true story of just such a ship, the SS Ourang Medan.
The Straits of Malaka between Sumatra and Malaysia is a well-traveled shipping lane used by ships from all nations. In February 1948, a number of ships sailing in the Straits as well as two listening posts on the coasts picked up a disturbing SOS signal from an unknown ship. It obviously was not sent by a radio operator as the signal did not follow any of the normal seafaring protocols of ship identification and position. Evidently, a crewman on the doomed ship had a rudimentary knowledge of Morse code and was sending in a slow and deliberate manner the last message that would ever be heard from the Ourang Medan. The message was as disturbing as it was simple.
"All officers including captain are dead lying in chartroom and bridge. Possibly whole crew dead." This was followed by a short line of indecipherable Morse code and then in clear and unmistakable code, a final and chilling message, "I die." Nothing but eerie silence followed.
The British listening post which picked up the signal worked with the Dutch listening post who also heard the SOS and several American ships in the area to triangulate the source of the signal. It was finally deduced to have come from the Dutch freighter SS Ourang Medan. An American merchant ship, the Silver Star, was the closest ship to the last known position of the stricken vessel and the captain and crew quickly changed course and went to all ahead full in an effort to assist. Several hours later, the Silver Star's lookout spotted the Ourang Medan rising and falling with the swells of the Straits of Malaka. It didn't take long to come up beside the darkened vessel as her engines were silent, a sure sign for a ship at sea that something was very wrong. There was no sign of life on the Ourang Medan and nobody returned the hails from the Silver Star. A boarding party was assembled from volunteers.
As soon as the Americans boarded, they found whoever had sent the distress message had not exaggerated. Bodies of the Dutch crew were laying all around the decks, the corpses all had faces twisted in horror and agony, the eyes wide open and staring, their outstretched arms seeming to be grasping at invisible assailants. Even stranger, all of the bodies were facing in the same direction as if something beyond horrible had come for them. Even the ship's guard dog was found dead, its menacing snarl frozen into a ghastly grimace.
As the boarding party searched further, the body of the captain was found on the bridge; the ship's officers were found lying around the wheelhouse and chart room, just as the distress signal had said. In the communications shack, the remains of a crewman was found, his dead fingers resting on the telegraph keys. All of the bodies had the same terrified expressions as those found on the open decks.
Going below to the engine room, more bodies were found. Stranger still, the outside temperature was a blistering 110 degrees, but in the boiler room, which is always the hottest part of a ship, the search party found themselves walking into an unnatural chill. Each of the men told of feeling uneasy and anxious as if something evil was down there with them. After quickly examining the bodies, the men beat a hasty retreat from below decks.
The search team could clearly see the men of the Ourang Medan had all been in agony at the moment of death, but they found no evidence of physical injury or foul play and there was no damage to the ship. Clearly, something horrible had befallen the crew, but exactly what was a complete and total mystery.
After reporting their findings to the captain of the Silver Star, he decided to take the death ship under tow and deliver it to the nearest port for further examination. As soon as the tow line was attached however, an ominous column of smoke was observed rising from below decks in the Number 4 hold, the one nearest the boiler room. Several members of the boarding party ran back to investigate the smoke, but they were driven away by the unbearable heat from a raging inferno. The men quickly cut the tow line and had barely made it back aboard their own ship when the Ourang Medan exploded with such force that it "lifted herself clear above the water and then swiftly sank."
The watery grave which so quickly claimed the death ship sent the Ourang Medan directly into the realm of myth and legends and ensured it would become one of the most mysterious sea tales of modern times.
It is said we know more about space and planets and stars than we do of what lives below the waves of our own waters. What happened to the SS Ourang Medan? What did the seasoned crew see that terrified one and all to the point of death? What could be so horrible that even the dog seemingly died of fright? Whatever it was, we can only hope those poor agonized lost souls took it into the briny deep with them and we pray, there it will stay.
"All officers including captain are dead lying in chartroom and bridge. Possibly whole crew dead." This was followed by a short line of indecipherable Morse code and then in clear and unmistakable code, a final and chilling message, "I die." Nothing but eerie silence followed.
As soon as the Americans boarded, they found whoever had sent the distress message had not exaggerated. Bodies of the Dutch crew were laying all around the decks, the corpses all had faces twisted in horror and agony, the eyes wide open and staring, their outstretched arms seeming to be grasping at invisible assailants. Even stranger, all of the bodies were facing in the same direction as if something beyond horrible had come for them. Even the ship's guard dog was found dead, its menacing snarl frozen into a ghastly grimace.
Going below to the engine room, more bodies were found. Stranger still, the outside temperature was a blistering 110 degrees, but in the boiler room, which is always the hottest part of a ship, the search party found themselves walking into an unnatural chill. Each of the men told of feeling uneasy and anxious as if something evil was down there with them. After quickly examining the bodies, the men beat a hasty retreat from below decks.
The search team could clearly see the men of the Ourang Medan had all been in agony at the moment of death, but they found no evidence of physical injury or foul play and there was no damage to the ship. Clearly, something horrible had befallen the crew, but exactly what was a complete and total mystery.
After reporting their findings to the captain of the Silver Star, he decided to take the death ship under tow and deliver it to the nearest port for further examination. As soon as the tow line was attached however, an ominous column of smoke was observed rising from below decks in the Number 4 hold, the one nearest the boiler room. Several members of the boarding party ran back to investigate the smoke, but they were driven away by the unbearable heat from a raging inferno. The men quickly cut the tow line and had barely made it back aboard their own ship when the Ourang Medan exploded with such force that it "lifted herself clear above the water and then swiftly sank."
The watery grave which so quickly claimed the death ship sent the Ourang Medan directly into the realm of myth and legends and ensured it would become one of the most mysterious sea tales of modern times.
It is said we know more about space and planets and stars than we do of what lives below the waves of our own waters. What happened to the SS Ourang Medan? What did the seasoned crew see that terrified one and all to the point of death? What could be so horrible that even the dog seemingly died of fright? Whatever it was, we can only hope those poor agonized lost souls took it into the briny deep with them and we pray, there it will stay.
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