Every submarine gliding on the Thames River, throughout history, has acquired a life story all its own. Some live more than one life.

The Navy submarine S-48, launched at The Lake Torpedo Boat Company in Bridgeport in 1921, actually had three lives, having been commissioned and decommissioned three times.

Its keel was laid in October 1920, and the ship launched just four months later on Feb. 26, 1921.

Curiously, Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels, an unabashed white supremacist, chose Mohegan tribal Princess Teecomwas (Myrtice Fielding) of Connecticut as sponsor. She was the daughter of Mohegan tribal Chief Occum (Lemuel Fielding) of Norwich.

Daniels was editor and publisher of the Raleigh News & Observer newspaper in North Carolina, through which he openly espoused his racist, segregationist views. How he came to nominate a Native American to sponsor a Navy ship is no doubt a colorful story unto itself.

It may have resulted from the princess’s 1920 visit to Washington, where, along with her father, she met with President Woodrow Wilson to lobby support for the return of the Royal Burial Ground in Norwich to the Mohegan tribe. The princess brought boneset, an herbal remedy, for the president’s illness.

The sub departed Bridgeport on Dec. 7, 1921, for its first sea trial with a crew of 50 men, contractors, and naval observers on board, all unaware that a manhole plate in a ballast tank had been left unsecured by a distracted shipyard worker.

Upon submerging off Fairfield, aft compartments flooded immediately, and the toxic mix of seawater and batteries threatened the release of deadly chlorine gas. As weight was moved aft, the stern settled on the bottom. In 80 feet of water, the 240-foot ship’s bow rose above the water, allowing all hands to escape through a torpedo tube.

Discovered 14 frozen hours later by a passing tug, the ship was soon re-floated and towed to Bridgeport. After repairs, the S-48 was commissioned and accepted by the Navy in October 1922.

On the night of Jan. 29, 1925, the sub arrived off the coast of New Hampshire on its way to Portsmouth, as a heavy snowstorm developed. The ship grounded on the rocks off Jeffrey Point.

She pulled herself off, only to ground again in Little Harbor. Violent seas rocked the boat and a heavy list developed. By 3:30 a.m., the battery compartments were taking on water, releasing deadly chlorine gas.

The crew scrambled to protect themselves, and at dawn the Coast Guard arrived, using lifeboats to rescue all onboard.

The sub was towed to Portsmouth, but with a lack of funding for repairs, she was decommissioned in July 1925 after four and a half years of service. Her first eventful life had ended.

As funding became available, the S-48 was repaired and recommissioned in December 1928, four years after the groundings.

In June 1930, with the sub back in New London, a young Hyman G. Rickover, future admiral and father of the nuclear navy, reported for duty as the new engineering and electrical officer.

In September, the boat had just left the Groton Sub Base when a main battery caught fire. Fearing an explosion, the captain ordered all men on deck.

Declaring the problem his responsibility, Rickover donned a gas mask and climbed back into the sub, defusing the situation and rigging up ventilation to clear the sub of fumes.

Rickover initiated several improvements to the boat, and in July 1931 he was appointed executive officer, second in command.

In that same year, the S-48 began a four-year assignment in Panama.

While there, Rickover saved a sailor who fell overboard, receiving a naval commendation. He also married Ruth Masters in Litchfield, after which they returned to Panama.

In 1933, Rickover left the S-48 and submarine service. The ship sailed on until its second decommissioning in 1935. Her second life had ended.

When World War II broke out, the venerable S-48 was recommissioned. The aged sub provided services to submarine and antisubmarine warfare training commands at New London and Portland, Maine, until European hostilities ended in 1945.

Decommissioned for the last time, S-48’s third and final life came to a close, over 24 years after Princess Teecomwas sent her down the ways with a Mohegan tribal blessing.

Rickover complained of S-48’s “faulty, sooty, dangerous and repellent engineering.” The ship no doubt served to inspire the iconic admiral’s obsession to improve naval engineering standards, leading to the launch of the Nautilus, America’s first nuclear powered submarine, in 1954.

John Steward lives in Waterford. He can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com.