Reconditioning an Eighteenth Century Ship VALKENISSE Retourschip of 1717 by SeaWatch Books

9/17/08

1:21 PM

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Reconditioning an Eighteenth-Century Ship Model

Photo: Sherry Moore

Valkenisse DJ.qxp

S EAWATCH B OOKS , LLC 19 Sea Watch Place, Florence, OR 97439 USA phone 541.997.4439 email seawatchbooks@gmail.com

fax 541.997.1282 web www.seawatchbooks.com

VALKENISSE

RETOURSCHIP OF 1717

SEAWATCH BOOKS LLC

Reconditioning an Eighteenth-Century Ship Model

VALKENISSE RETOURSCHIP OF 1717

he ship modeling world called to Rob Napier when he was a boy. He turned to it for a career when he was 27, and it has occupied him professionally since. He now focuses on building new models and on maintaining models for individuals and institutions. Rob’s original models are created on a groundwork of documentation found in the historical, photographic, and artistic records. His work has won awards at national and regional competitions, and he has judged numerous ship modeling events. Rob works closely with curators and conservators of institutional collections to repair and conserve models and to prepare them for exhibition. Rob shares his experiences and views by lecturing and by contributing frequently to publications that feature ship modeling and maritime history; he edited the Nautical Research Journal for five years during the mid-1990s. Rob served as a US Navy journalist during two late-1960s combat cruises to Southeast Asia. He has experience with small boat building and commercial fishing, and he is an avid sailor. Rob lives in Newburyport, Massachusetts, with his wife Sherry Moore.

Reconditioning an Eighteenth-Century Ship Model

Jacket photos: Rob Napier

ROB NAPIER

RECONDITIONING an

EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY SHIP MODEL

RECONDITIONING an

EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY SHIP MODEL

VALKENISSE RETOURSCHIP of 1717 by

Rob Napier

© 2008 by Rob Napier. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher. Published and distributed by SeaWatchBooks LLC 19 Sea Watch Place, Florence OR 97439, USA Telephone: (541)997 4439 Fax: (541)997 1282 E-mail: seawatchbooks@gmail.com Web: www. seawatchbooks.com ISBN 978-0-9820579-0-2 Manufactured in the United States of America First edition, first printing, 2008

CONTENTS FOREWORD BY AB HOVING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .vii PREFACE BY GERALD W.R. WARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .ix INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .XI Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .xiii Part 1

OPPORTUNITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1

Part 2

PROVENANCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .12

Part 3

RESEARCH SOURCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .21

Part 4

THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43

Part 5

PREPARING THE BERTH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .56

Part 6

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .69

Part 7

THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .89

Part 8

GOING ABOARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .101

Part 9

SPARRING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .123

Part 10 RIGGING PREPARATIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .141 Part 11 STANDING RIGGING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .161 Part 12 RUNNING RIGGING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .176 Part 13 FINAL STEPS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .189 APPENDIXES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .199 GLOSSARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .225 SOURCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .227 INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .233 FOLDING PLATES

Foreword Holland lies in Western Europe, in the estuary of the rivers Rhine, Muese, and Schelde, just opposite England across the North Sea. It is a small and rainy country, but it has an amazing history. Once its commercial empire reached to the outer ends of what was known of our world. There was not a wish for power or to find new places to settle its people. Rather, the only goal the Dutch had was trading and making money. Spices, china, tea, and other luxurious goods were brought to Europe where they were sold with high profits. The Dutch East India Company, the VOC (Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie or United East India Company) was the co-operation of merchantmen from six Dutch cities: Amsterdam, Middelburg, Rotterdam, Delft, Enkhuizen, and Hoorn. In the two centuries of its existence, the company built thousands of ships. Many of them were to serve as transport vessels in Asian waters, but many formed a type, called the “retourschip,” which was developed to transport the Asian goods to Holland, and silver, gold, and people to Batavia (now Djakarta). The VOC retourschip was an easily recognized ship type with characteristics like standardized sizes, huge loading capacities, and relatively heavy ordnance. Some twenty contemporary models have survived. All of them are of high quality and show features that can only be appreciated in their original context. Thus the models are of great importance for our understanding of the retourschip type, the habits and technical qualities of its time, and of the VOC as a phenomenon. The models were originally used to decorate the houses and meeting rooms of the “Heeren XVII,” the managing directors of the company, and the models added to the distinguished character of the owners, the rooms, and the company itself. After the bankruptcy in 1795, the models were sold. Though it is slightly exaggerated to speak of a diaspora, the models can be found in several countries including Belgium, Norway, Denmark, and Scotland. The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, in the United States, owns one of them, the model of Valkenisse. Ship models are difficult objects to keep, and the owner has to expend great efforts to preserve or restore them in a way that reflects their historical significance. I knew Rob Napier and the quality of his work from an earlier contact about some Dutch models he was about to build, and I felt relieved that he was the one to restore the model of Valkenisse. When he informed me about the job, I discussed the news with my boss in those days, Bas Kist, and he immediately responded: “Bring him over here and show him everything he needs to know. This model is a part of our cultural inheritance, and we are responsible for the right treatment of the object.” So I invited Rob over to Holland and took him on a tour around the museums where similar models are kept. It was the basis for a close contact that lasted throughout the restoration of the model. I was impressed by the eye for detail Rob showed. He tends to work more “accurately” than a model of this quality requires (VOC models should not be confused with English Admiralty Board models, which ask for a far more precise treatment). So, during the process, I never stopped encouraging Rob to add some “well-planned carelessness,” which he performed to the best of his skills. In some cases, a restorer has to go down to the level of craftsman-

viii É FOREWORD ship his object was produced with, and Rob can go down quite a stretch because he is a true artisan. The restoration of Valkenisse is a complete success, and we in Holland are proud that one of the models of the ships that shaped our history is in Boston and is to be permanently exhibited. This book, the report of Rob’s effort, is an example not only for the restoration of VOC models, but for restoration of ship models in general. It shows great interest in the history and in the physical ins and outs of vessels. It also bears witness to the skills a restorer requires to undertake a heavy project like this, and it improves the image of ship model restoration all over the globe. AB HOVING Ship Model Restorer Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

Preface The Valkenisse — one of the major jewels in the ship model collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston — is an amazing work of art. It documents in miniature one of the most complex and beautiful material objects of its day, a retourschip, built in 1717, of the Dutch East India Company (VOC). These magnificent vessels were designed to sail from the Netherlands to the East Indies and return with a precious cargo of peppers, cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg. The fullsize Valkenisse made this round-trip at least seven times during the first seventeen years of its life, before it was wrecked in 1740. Our model, however, survived. Used initially (it is thought) as decoration in the headquarters of the VOC in Middelburg, where the Valkenisse was built, it eventually became an “antique” and somehow escaped destruction. Its whereabouts after the demise of the VOC are unknown, but it may have traveled to England before surfacing in New York City in the twentieth century. The modern preservation and conservation of the Valkenisse is, as you will read, a story now nearly a century old that has involved the efforts of many people. The narrative starts with the collector Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., who spotted the model at a dealer’s gallery or in an auction house sometime just after the end of the First World War. Collins immediately fell in love with it, purchased it, and — according to his own testimony — somehow managed to take it home in a New York cab. After about a decade of ownership, however, Collins decided to part with the model in 1928. At that time, J. Templeman Coolidge of Boston and Portsmouth, New Hampshire, was assembling a major maritime collection for display at the MFA. Coolidge stepped to the fore and added the Valkenisse to his holdings. He placed it on loan to the Museum, where it became part of the Ship Model Gallery in the then-new Decorative Arts Wing. In 1932, Coolidge converted his many loans into a gift. Decades passed. In the early 1970s, the ship model collection, formerly part of the Department of Decorative Arts of Europe and America, was assigned to the newly created Department of American Decorative Arts and Sculpture. In time, space constraints within the Museum as a whole forced the temporary closing of the gallery so that it could be used for storage. In 1990, Jonathan L. Fairbanks, the Katharine Lane Weems Curator of American Decorative Arts and Sculpture (and now Curator Emeritus), enlisted the services of Rob Napier to examine and treat many models in the collection prior to a special exhibition and in anticipation of the reopening of the Ship Model Gallery. With the assistance of Maria Pulsone Woods and other staff members, the newly installed gallery, replete with educational materials, was opened to great acclaim in 1992. The Valkenisse, however, was not included in that display. Little, if any, attention had been paid to the physical condition of the large model since its acquisition in 1932, and much needed to be done. Rob Napier was the obvious choice to undertake the massive and daunting challenge presented by the Valkenisse. The initial part of the challenge, as always, was to find funding for the project. Fortunately, the late Frits Markus (a notable collector of European ceramics) offered a generous “challenge grant” that was quickly matched by the Bauervic Foundation, courtesy of Ms. Peggy L. Maitland, and thus by November 1993 the process could proceed.

x É PREFACE

Over the next few years, Jonathan and I would travel occasionally to Rob’s studio to see how the work was coming and to try to answer his many thorny, perceptive questions about the conservation treatment. As you will read in this book, Rob is a meticulous historian, who scoured the written and pictorial record for evidence to guide his work. His frequent partner in research was Albert Hoving, curator of ship models at the Rijksmuseum. It is a pleasure here to recognize the generous and unselfish cooperation offered by Mr. Hoving and his institution; their efforts were essential to the successful completion of this project. As you will also discover here, Rob is a consummate craftsman with extraordinary bench skills, who was able to translate his discoveries and conclusions drawn from the documentary evidence into three-dimensional results on the model itself. Each step of the Valkenisse project, from “the riddle of the scales” to the enormous complexities of rigging, required careful thought and analysis. Innumerable decisions had to be made along the way not only about major issues, but also concerning the most minute details. Rob handled those decisions intelligently and deftly, always searching for and relying upon the best available evidence to support a given conclusion. Thanks to Rob’s decade-long effort, the Valkenisse will soon take pride of place in another reincarnation of the Museum’s Ship Model and Maritime Arts Gallery (now named in honor of George Putnam in recognition of his financial support) in our new American Wing. There, it will fulfill J. Templeman Coolidge’s belief “that the models from which . . . old ships were built are, in beauty of design and of craftsmanship, indeed works of art.” Meticulously conserved and fully rigged for the first time in many years, it will educate and entrance our visitors for generations to come, GERALD W.R. WARD The Katharine Lane Weems Senior Curator of Decorative Arts and Sculpture Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Introduction The vessel named Valkenisse was built in 1717 and operated by the Dutch East India Company. The model that is the subject of this book almost certainly dates from the same time. When it was over two centuries old in the 1930s, the model found its way into the collections of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. In the 1990s, I was commissioned by the museum to rerig the model using components that had evidently accompanied it for a long but uncertain length of time. The project quickly evolved into more than a rerigging job. We do not know who originally constructed the model or who cared for it during its first two hundred years, but investigation revealed that the creative effort of the model's builder had not been respected by intermediate custodians as much as we might have hoped. In addition to the spars and rigging, other systems required considerable attention. Many of these tasks had been started by the model's penultimate private owner in the early twentieth century. Unfortunately, his work remained incomplete for reasons we can only surmise. The work of each person who works on a ship model can be identified by his characteristic workmanship, or “hand.” The hand is analogous, say, to a particular artist’s brushwork on a canvas. As on a painting, the hand of a person repairing a model may be legible in brushwork or slight color variations that differ from the original model builder’s. The repair person’s hand may also be seen in his different ways of choosing wood for new fittings, of smoothing surfaces, of making joints, of applying glue, of tying knots, and so forth. A major goal of the Valkenisse project was to identify the distinct hands who left their marks on the model. I strove to reconstruct their sequence and to understand how each impacted the model’s integrity. The result of this inquiry is the story of the model. In today’s ship modeling world, “restoration” has come to mean any loose range of processes that might be applied to an old model to clean it, repair it, refinish it, or put it in what might be interpreted naively as better condition. It is often the case, though, that amateur, semi-professional, and even untrained professional ship modelers are not too careful about the effects that modern paints, glues, and other chemicals can have on old objects. Worse, some thoughtless modelers feel entitled to take license with an original builder’s intentions. They make so-called corrections to his work or even build and install systems that may not have been a part of the original model at all. Such practices do not necessarily fit a more restricted definition of restoration that trained art curators and object conservators might advance. To these professionals, restoration means specifically that any work done to an object will help return it to a known previous condition, and that the evidence for the previous condition will be dictated by the object itself. The challenges I faced with Valkenisse lay somewhere between the two practices. For instance, I knew from evidence found on the model what sort of line the original modeler used for rigging. But there was no specific evidence he had used that kind of line to make the main topgallant braces, or, for that matter, that he had rigged main topgallant braces at all. Should I install them? The answer lay in the observation that all other models similar in type and age to Valkenisse were fitted with the braces, so I made and installed them on Valkenisse. Does this decision fall within the modern modeler’s loose meaning

xii É INTRODUCTION for restoration or the conservator’s more restricted meaning? The lack of a clear answer steered me away from using restoration to define the sort of work I performed on Valkenisse. I looked for another word and settled on “reconditioning.” It may not be a perfect choice, but it will not be confused with other terms currently in use. My education does not yet include academic courses in art conservation. However, I kept my eyes and ears open during the happy occasions when I worked closely with several skilled and conscientious conservators. The model of Valkenisse presented some situations for which I did not know or understand the established approaches of formal conservation. If I could not obtain specific advice from a professional, I chose the best solution I could, and I made a particular effort to document the work as precisely as possible. I hope my record will help future conservators understand how the model arrived at its present state. A key discussion in the conservation world revolves around how much a technician should make new work blend with the original fabric of an object. One side maintains that new work should blend as perfectly as possible so the object looks whole and original. The second stance is more prevalent and maintains that new work should stand out, or at least not blend perfectly, so viewers can see easily what is old and what is new. Generally, I side with the second point of view when the objects are relatively familiar to a large general audience. But broad audiences are unfamiliar with historically significant ship models, so I see the issue slightly differently when it is applied to them. The differences of the hands that address a ship model are usually legible enough that an artisan’s best efforts to conceal new work will seldom be sufficient to render it invisible. Informed observers, such as ship model professionals and object conservators, will nearly always be able to read the story written by each hand. Meanwhile, an audience of general viewers will probably not be able to distinguish the different hands easily. I think this is desirable. Ship modeling needs the largest audience it can attract; we do not want to scare off potential viewers or practitioners. Thus, I feel it is best for ship model professionals to blend their work as well as possible because their hands will remain legible to informed observers but will not confuse or discourage general audiences. This book is as much about thinking as it is about doing. Ship modelers frequently say that they spend as much time pondering a model project as they do making things at the workbench. During the Valkenisse project, the vast majority of my time was spent reading, studying photographs of old models, pouring data into tables, and drawing. This extended labor established the foundation for making informed decisions that directed the physical work. Once I got to it, the three-dimensional work went fairly quickly. It resembled and utilized regular ship model building processes that are described liberally elsewhere in the ship-modeling literature. I focus on them in this text only when I needed to document artifact-specific information for my client, or when I felt I had found a new approach to an old problem. This volume was initially constructed to be a report to the MFA on my research and reconditioning of the model. Thus, most of the text was adapted from my log of daily work. The first entries were logged in November 1993,

INTRODUCTION É xiii during my first trip to the Netherlands, and final entries were made a decade later in November 2003. Much of this study is based on deep observation of photographs, but photographs do not reveal everything. I am sure I have made interpretive errors that others who are geographically closer to the contemporary models in the photos will discover. I only hope the story told by my decisions is plausible and close to correct. I photographed many of the model’s components on a ruled background. In most cases, the ruling is at 1-centimeter intervals; the few exceptions are at 10centimeter intervals. Many images are reproduced here with inconsistent colors and backgrounds. This unfortunate situation, for which I am responsible and apologize, is the result of employing inconsistent photo formats, films, and lighting schemes. Citations are listed as endnotes at the conclusion of each part.

Acknowledgments The Valkenisse project would not have gotten far had it depended on me alone. Recognition must go back a long way, centuries in fact, to the souls who preserved the model until it found its way to Boston. To Jonathan L. Fairbanks, The Katharine Lane Weems Curator of American Decorative Arts and Sculpture (Curator Emeritus since 1999), of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, I offer my warmest thanks for trusting me in the first place with this project’s development and execution. Gerald W.R. Ward, The Katharine Lane Weems Senior Curator of Decorative Arts and Sculpture, Art of the Americas, succeeded Jonathan at the MFA and saw the project to completion. Both Jonathan and Gerry were in every way tolerant of the project’s everbroadening scope, and neither pressured me at all. Ab Hoving’s unflagging energy as a modeling mentor was crucial, even from his distant ship model studio in Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. I would never have understood how to manage Valkenisse’s intrinsic Dutch qualities, not to mention her historical accuracy, without his nearly instant e-mail replies to my incessant queries. He arranged Dutch hospitality and supplied me with Dutch books I could have found nowhere else. Jeanine Falino and Maria Pulsone Woods from the MFA; Eugene L. Larson of Alexandria, Virginia; Jules van Beylen of Antwerp; Alan Lemmers from Rijksmuseum; Roel H. Rozendaal of Rotterdam; and Grant Walker from the United States Naval Academy Museum each supplied a vital piece or two without which the puzzle could not have been solved. Really. Hints and ideas arose with serendipity but were always sparked by someone. For many such lights, I thank Nancy Alcorn, H. James Caulkins, Clarkson A. Collins, IV, Karen Dardinsky, J.W.C. de Groot, Stephanie Gottwald, Richard Melillo, Ernie Pettit, and Sidney I. Siegel. I extend thanks for guidance on technical matters in fields about which I knew less than I should to Muffie Austin,

xiv É INTRODUCTION Scott Bower, Lars Bruzelius, Cor Hardonk, John Harland, Meredith Montague, Els van Eyk van Eslinga, Vicki at Pro Chemical, and Andy Willemsen. Sean Farren, Charles Griffin, Peter Hickey, Christopher Morrison, and James P. Philip thoughtfully contributed their time, equipment, and expertise to the project’s optical aspects including film and digital photography and endoscopy. The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, graciously granted permission to use all the images of the model of Valkenisse that appear here. For assistance and courtesy in providing photographs of other models, or for granting permission to photograph them myself, or for permission to publish images, I thank members of the staffs at the Danish Maritime Museum, Elsinore; the Maritiem Museum Rotterdam; the National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam; the National Maritime Museum, Antwerp; the National Maritime Museum, London; the National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh; the Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht; and the Zuiderzeemuseum, Enkhuizen. I have credited the sources of all images that I did not produce myself. Cathy Dupont, David Antscherl, Bob Craig, and Eric Smith plowed through all or portions of the draft for this book; each provided important feedback. David Fullam was always ready when I needed another perspective and a hand when my two were not enough. Finally, my wife Sherry Moore has my unending gratitude for her patience and support beyond all reason during the years Valkenisse was occupying my studio and mind. There are not enough words of appreciation in our language: I can only say thank you. ROB NAPIER

RECONDITIONING an

EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY SHIP MODEL

Part 1 OPPORTUNITY “Would you like to rig the Dutch model?” “Yes,” I answered Jonathan. The idea had occurred to me, but at that moment I did not know how my enthusiasm sheltered me. As a ship model consultant for the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, (MFA) I had been cleaning and making critical repairs to about a third of the models in its collection. This was in anticipation of the 1990 exhibition, “The Age of Sail: Ship Models and Marine Arts,”1 that would display selected models to the public for the first time in well over a decade. The four-month exhibition would be staged in a “temporary” gallery dedicated to changing events and would not, ironically, include “the Dutch model.” This event’s success was the principal factor the museum would weigh when considering whether or not to overhaul its entire collection of about thirty-five models and to refurbish its old, purpose-built ship model gallery on the court level, or basement. “The Dutch model” was Valkenisse, a robust, full-hull, plank-on-frame model that evidently dated from 1717 (Figure 1). About the model, the eminent American historian Howard I. Chapelle wrote, “It is a correct model . . . and the decoration is complete.” Irving R. Wiles, a New York ship model afficionado in the 1920s, considered Valkenisse “one of the finest models of its kind” and “extremely rare.” Likely biased because he owned the model, New Yorker Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., felt she was “probably the most unique model in this country.” However, Richard McLanathan’s remark was palpably enticing. A former MFA curator of decorative arts, he wrote in the collection catalog published with the first dedication of the court-level gallery in 1957, “The original masts, spars, anchors, and much of the standing rigging belonging to this model having come to light, a complete restoration is now contemplated.”2 Because I had been familiar with McLanathan’s words for thirty years, I asked about these parts when I started working with the museum in 1990 and had learned that, unfortunately, the cache had evidently retreated to the shadows. One day at the end of October, though, as the new exhibition approached, assistant curator Jeannine L. Falino entered the court-level model gallery, which was serving as our repair site. In her arms, swaddled like a child, was the bundle of ship model parts, recovered from the depths of Wicke’s Basement, a cavernous museum storage area. We unwrapped the bundle carefully (Figure 2). It contained exactly what McLanathan

Figure 1. The model of Valkenisse before any modern work. (Photograph by Christopher Morrison)

Figure 2. Assortment of spars in the unwrapped bundle.

2 É OPPORTUNITY had reported. The largest and most telling parts were the main and fore lower masts and the bowsprit. The masts fit the hull nicely, but it was most gratifying to slide the bowsprit home in its complicated seating and to watch wear spots align perfectly with the chafing points that had caused them. There was enough of everything to fill out the model’s rig. Or so I thought. We all heard McLanathan’s 1957 words echo down the decades, but it was not until the 19 November exhibition opening that Jonathan L. Fairbanks, the Katharine Lane Weems Senior Curator of Decorative Arts and Sculpture, gave voice to them with his question to me. The first thing that happened after I answered Fairbanks’s question was nothing, and this in turn established a pattern of inactions that seemed to dominate and could have derailed the project entirely. The explanation that first time was that neither the museum nor I could start thinking about Valkenisse immediately. The museum needed to determine if it would be redoing the court-level model gallery. If the answer was no, there was little point in continuing. If it was yes, then we would proceed, but not until after the gallery reopening. How could we ensure this would happen? The general public had provided substantial encouragement over the years in the form of written and telephoned inquiries about the models. The museum’s ship models (and Egyptian mummies) are its most asked about artifacts.3 But this would not be enough. We spread the word through local ship model societies and the national Nautical Research Guild (of which I was then secretary) about the need to support the temporary exhibition and to further encourage the museum to permanently reopen the ship model gallery. While I can report nothing quantitative about our effort, in the end the museum was influenced enough to say yes. The reopening was a minimum of two years away. Wheels of progress in large museums grind slowly and many things seem to happen in the future. After the temporary 1990 exhibition closed, the models in it were returned to the court-level ship model gallery. I then worked on all the models. They were cleaned, repaired, and removed to so-called clean storage. The gallery itself was overhauled and modernized, but not really reconfigured.4 By today’s standards, the room was small for the number and size of the models it displayed. The models ranged in length from less than a foot to over six feet. All around the room’s perimeter, large glass cases had been installed, and each case held several models. Large cases that hold many items are called “tanks” in museum lingo. The only gap in these tanks was for the gallery’s doorway. The advantage with perimeter tanks was that floor space was maximized and models could be arranged in different thematic ways. The disadvantage was that only one side of each model could be seen, and it was difficult to see their ends, particularly the sterns. Bases of the tanks were a couple of feet above the floor. Beneath them, a large volume, a precious resource in a crammed museum, was empty. Fairbanks wanted to utilize the volume as display space and to expand the museum’s holdings of examples of the applied maritime arts. So, under the tanks, he installed bin-like drawers that visitors could pull open to view objects easily. To update the gallery in other ways, air conditioning was added and the tanks were fitted with modern, cool, low-lumen fiberoptic lighting. In hopeful anticipation that the Valkenisse project would advance, and to celebrate the discovery of the model’s long-lost parts, Maria Pulsone Woods, the MFA

OPPORTUNITY É 3 staffer curating the model gallery renovation, decided we should exhibit Valkenisse with her lower masts stepped and rigging slack (Figure 1). It was as if the ship was awaiting overhaul, or the model was awaiting the “complete restoration” that McLanathan had envisioned.5 The old bundle’s other contents were arranged openly in one of the new display drawers. Thus, even if Valkenisse was not rerigged, her parts trove would, at least, be at home with the model in the same room. For over a year, I dreamed of working on Valkenisse. There is a thing about dreams, though. As time passes, we tend to remember only their essence. Details slip away. Only a vague nimbus remains, and that is what Valkenisse became as I worked on other ship models. Finally, in late 1991, acting on museum intelligence beyond my ken, Fairbanks and Woods gave the go-ahead for me to construct a proposal. First, though, I wrote to my single contact in the Netherlands. Albert Hoving is a model builder and historian of early ship construction who had advised me years earlier on the color schemes and atmosphere that are appropriate in models to capture the nature of the Dutch and their shipping. By 1992, he had become conservator of ship models at the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Now, we tend to think of this mighty institution, a meeting place of works by Rembrandt, Vermeer, and others, as we do of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. They are art museums, not maritime museums. They house ship models only incidentally. But, by definition, Rijksmuseum is more than that because “rijksmusem” means “state museum.” As such, this venerable Dutch facility in the heart of the Netherlands’ ancient capital is home to all sorts of official artifacts. Among these is the extensive Dutch Navy Model Collection that was assembled at the order of King William I of the Netherlands beginning in 1817.6 It was to reorganize and manage this state collection that Hoving had moved to Amsterdam. So, he was not just my only source in the Netherlands, he was perhaps the most informed source there, as well. My letter to Hoving explained that the MFA was seriously contemplating rerigging Valkenisse. I asked Hoving what I needed to read so I could effectively execute my commission. Having never been to the European continent, his answer electrified me. He said he and his colleagues knew about the model in Boston and “the Rijksmuseum is very interested in the project of rerigging the Valkenisse.” He wrote that, while the job would be possible without visiting the Netherlands, they were concerned about the treatment of their “national heritage.” They wanted to assure the overhaul was as authentic — as characteristically Dutch — as possible and would provide everything I needed. Hoving explained they would offer assistance in far more depth if I traveled to the Netherlands.7 The proposal to the MFA was simple enough. It included a brief background of what was known of the model; a review of Hoving’s support for the project; a vague script for working on the model’s hull, spars, and rigging; suggestions for addressing other problem areas; fees; and concerns such as responsibilities for insurance and transportation. However, I did not write it until after the rededication of the ship model gallery during the summer of 1992. Over half a year had slipped by. I gamely thought the museum would either directly accept or refuse my recommendations. How naïve I was. I had forgotten that all-important phase: fund-raising.

4 É OPPORTUNITY The museum tossed this obstacle to my side of the net by asking how I would raise the money to pay myself for the project. Although surprised, I was extremely lucky to align, in a single brief conversation, nearly fifty percent of the project cost as a grant from an interested individual. I took this back to Fairbanks and Woods and, with trepidation, tossed what remained of the fund-raising ball back over the net. Almost another year passed quietly until September 1993, when the museum switched on the final green light. When I wrote Hoving to report that we were actually proceeding and to plan a trip to the Netherlands, he astonished me by telephoning to say that we could either delay a few months or I could come over immediately and get started. Although he was busy, he said, it might be best to get my visit out of the way and that I should schedule five or six days with him. Hoving met me at Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport a few days later. I’d been jammed in a 747’s cattle class all night. It was about 7:30 A.M. Dutch time. Minutes later we were striding through basements, narrow interior passages, up spiral stairs, into the lofty turret that houses the Rijksmuseum’s modellenkamer, or ship model workshop, research lab, and storage area. A garret under the roof. A thousand models. I had ascended to Heaven.

Figure 3. On the stern, the circular cartouch, arrow above, contains a VOC cypher, which is drawn more clearly as a graphic, below.

My education began. In a whirlwind, Hoving introduced me to museums, curators, and ship models all over the Netherlands. We visited the Maritiem Museum Rotterdam; the Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home in Dordrecht; the Batavia Werf in Lelystad; the Zuiderzeemuseum in Enkhuizen; and in Amsterdam, the National Maritime Museum and, of course, Rijksmuseum. Each institution holds at least one model important to Valkenisse’s story. With Hoving offering a steady river of analysis of models with names like den Ary, Bleiswijk, Pamdos/Blydorp, and d’Gerechtigheid, I shot rolls of film and scribbled frantic pages of notes. Between models, there was all the rest of Dutch maritime history to immerse myself in, all those delicious boat and ship types with their nearly unpronounceable names. I met the late Jules van Beylen who had accomplished for Low Country craft what Howard Chapelle had for indigenous American watercraft. Van Beylen encouraged me to visit the Nationaal Scheepvaart Museum in Antwerp, Belgium, where I could study other models. I began understanding how all these models were linked both generally and specifically and why it was so important to visit them within the context of their homelands.

The VOC, Briefly What ship did the model of Valkenisse represent? Centered high on the stern, a carved round cartouche (Figure 3) displays a cypher with a large letter V. Superimposed on its left stem is an O and on its right stem a C. The three letters combine to form one of Western Europe’s oldest corporate logos. It stands for the Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, or the VOC, as it has been known globally for a very long time. In English, VOC translates as the United East India Company. This, the Dutch East India Company, is not to be confused with Britain’s Honourable East India Company, or other lesser organizations, although their domains and periods of activity overlapped. Volumes of history have been written about the VOC and

OPPORTUNITY É 5 its place, for better and worse, in the genesis of international commerce and colonialism. It has been called the first multinational corporation. For a positive, brief but thorough, and well-illustrated overview, I recommend In Pursuit of Pepper and Tea, which was written by Els M. Jacobs and published in English by the Nederlands Scheepvaart Museum.8 For understanding Valkenisse, though, we only need some VOC basics. The VOC coalesced from an array of smaller Dutch trading concerns in about 1599. Each of the company’s six chambers — Amsterdam, Delft, Enkhuizen, Hoorn, Rotterdam, Zeeland — represented a port city in the Netherlands significant enough in stature to engage in international trade. Each chamber was represented in the company’s central governing board, the Heeren Zeventien,* or the Seventeen Gentlemen.9 Within this board, each chamber’s power ranked in proportion to its size and contribution to the company’s overall profit. The company’s purpose was to profit on trade between the Netherlands and the Far East. The principal commodities transported home were spices — peppers, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg — grown on remote islands of what were then collectively known as the East Indies and that now principally comprise the nation of Indonesia. The central entrepôt was Batavia, now Jakarta, near the western tip of the huge island of Java, but VOC outports were scattered across the East from Ceylon, now Sri Lanka, to China and Japan. Sailing directions for VOC routes ranked as national security issues do today. Ideally, a vessel left the Netherlands and did not touch land again until it reached Cape Town. It paused there to replenish supplies, then continued toward Batavia (Figure 4, next page), where it remained until laden with cargo for home. Then it reversed its path, stopping again at the Cape. Vessels sailed alone and in fleets. While the VOC operated many vessels that stayed at home in the Netherlands and many vessels that stayed out East, the ships that made the voyages out and back were called retourschepen, or return ships.* During the VOC’s two-hundred-year life, it employed — it consumed — hundreds of ships. Over 1,770 retourschepen made more than 8,200 one-way passages out East or back. Principally, the company built its own ships, but it also purchased and chartered vessels for its incredibly lucrative trade.10 During most of this period, the Netherlands apparently did not have a strong central government. There was no immense naval force to protect far-reaching VOC fleets. Thus, they had to be prepared to defend themselves and the company’s greater interests and to create and maintain Dutch policy in remote places. For this reason, VOC retourschepen were heavily armed. The company had to be its own navy. Not surprisingly, the VOC kept exceedingly detailed records of its affairs. While tens of thousands of volumes have succumbed to the ravages of time, especially during the nineteenth century, many survive and may be found today in the Dutch national archives in the Hague.11 The voyages of the retourschepen have been studied and tabulated into various forms that are easy for modern historians to study. They may be reviewed in book form in the landmark three-volume, English-language work Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries, but in Dutch they are more accessible on the World Wide Web at “de VOC Site.”12 Another look at the cypher on Valkenisse’s stern shows that the base of the V fits nicely into the center of an M, and, lower on the stern, a three-part

* The “Heeren Zeventien” was a group unique to Dutch history, and “retourschip” described a vessel of distinctly Dutch employment and type. Both terms are retained in the text.

6 É OPPORTUNITY

Figure 4, above. The Asian realm of the VOC. The remote Banda Islands were the secret destination for nutmeg. Too small to appear at this scale, they are located within a circle.

Figure 5, left. The Netherlands and northern Belgium redrawn from a 1912 atlas to show the major islands and peninsulas of Zeeland, which is roughly southwest of the green line. Lelystad, shown here in the middle of the Zuider Zee, is now a new city on reclaimed polder. Red circles indicate VOC chamber centers.

OPPORTUNITY É 7 carved banner bears the legend “ANNO VALKENISSE 1717.” A look in Dutch-Asiatic Shipping satisfyingly reveals that the VOC did, indeed, operate a retourschip named Valkenisse that was built in 1717 at Middelburg, the principal port in the Zeeland Chamber of the VOC. Thus we have the MFA’s model identified as a particular vessel.

Valkenisse, the Vessel Valkenisse, the vessel, was built at Middelburg, on the island of Welcheren in Zeeland (Figure 5). I found no record of how she acquired her name, but Valkenisse was and remains a community not far west of Middelburg on the Zeeland coast along the northern shore of the Westerschelde, the estuary of the River Schelde. In an Internet search, the only person I found with a related name was Antwerp art collector Philips van Valkenisse.13 In Dutch, the “van” means “from.” This connection is tenuous, at best, but Antwerp, in present-day Belgium, was only about 80 kilometers upstream on the Schelde from Middelburg. The port city was, and remains, the largest urban center nearest Valkenisse. Rotterdam, the largest Dutch port near Valkenisse, was somewhat further away, as the stork flies, but the journey between the two traversed many islands and waterways of Zeeland. Is it possible Valkenisse’s figurehead represents a Dutch art collector living in Belgium? My guess, however, is that the ship was simply named for the town. By the turn to the eighteenth century, the Heeren Zeventien had regulated retourschepen so that they were built in three distinct classes or sizes. Simply, these were vessels 130, 145, and 160 feet in length, although tonnages within classes varied a good deal. Valkenisse was listed at 1,150 tons, the largest group I found, and was, therefore, a 160-foot ship. But more on length and size later. She was almost certainly built skin-first and launched bow-first, in the traditional Dutch fashion (Figure 6). Valkenisse began her maiden voyage on 7 November 1717 when she passed Rammekens, a coastal fort that served as the official starting point of VOC voyages from Middelburg.14 She was under the command of Herman Grindet. Aboard were 255 souls: 117 seafarers, 131 soldiers, 1 craftsman, and 6 passengers. The craftsman was a person “employed to perform some particular service in Asia” and was not a crew member. Retourschip passengers included officials; clergy, their wives and servants; slaves; and stowaways. For some reason (adverse winds in the narrow English Channel were likely), the ship paused in England four days later and remained there forty days, in Portsmouth and Torbay, until the first day of the new year. Then she sailed directly for the Cape. Compilation of inconsistent and not necessarily balanced records indicate that, en route to the Cape, 24 people aboard, or about 9.4 percent, died. The vessel arrived on 24 April. She replenished and departed the Cape a little less than a month later on 18 May. Ten sailors and 7 soldiers had remained at the Cape, but 4 new sailors and 2 new soldiers had embarked, so she sailed with 220. She reached Batavia on 28 July after the deaths of 4 more soldiers and 1 passenger. She spent over four months in Batavia

Figure 6. A large Dutch ship is launched bow-first in the fourth of a series of sixteen etchings narrating the construction and career of a vessel. The etching were by Sieuwert van der Meulen, an early eighteenth-century artist from Haarlem and Alkmaar. (From De Groot and Vorstman, Sailing Ships, Prints by the Dutch Masters from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century, pl. 142, p. 275; courtesy Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam)

8 É OPPORTUNITY doing her business and sailed on 7 December 1718 with 100 seafarers, 20 soldiers, 10 craftsmen, and 2 passengers, 5 of whom died before reaching Cape Town on 16 February. She left 17 more, there, in Africa and headed north in the Atlantic on 2 April 1719 to arrive home on 10 August. There is no record for deaths during the last leg of the voyage. She had been away for just over one year, nine months. She had spent about 61 percent of her time sailing and about

Figure 7. A fleet of nineteen VOC vessels returning to the Netherlands in 1720. While simplified, the vessels do have potentially identifying characteristics such as square tucks or round sterns, taffrail shapes, and flags. The fleet flies five separate taffrail ensigns, but they unfortunately do not have identifying VOC cyphers. Nine ensigns are red, white, and blue from top to bottom and are the general Dutch flag, but could also represent the VOC as a whole. Two red-white-red ensigns represent the Hoorn Chamber. The one green-whitegreen ensign is probably for Rotterdam. The three with nine alternating red and white stripes I have not associated with a specific province or chamber. The remaining four ensigns, including the fleet's lead ship, have orange, white, and red stripes. These likely represent Zeeland Chamber vessels, especially if the orange stripes were intended to be yellow. Of these, the middle ship in the right flank has a taffrail shape resembling Valkenisse's, a square tuck, and her general appearance. (Anonymous drawing, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam; and www.crwflags. com/fotw/flags/nl-indco.html, visited 11 November 2005)

OPPORTUNITY É 9 39 percent in port. The value of her return cargo, which was destined for the Zeeland Chamber, was 511,879 guilders. She was home for four and half months before departing on her second voyage.15 Valkenisse spent until 14 August 1720 on her second voyage out to Batavia and departed for home on 1 December 1720. There is a lively painting of the 1720 retour, or return, fleet (Figure 7). It is remotely possible Valkenisse is represented in this fleet. If she is, it is the only known graphic representation of her, and she may be the only case of a specific VOC retourschip documented in both a painting and a model. There are similar records for each of her six and a half round trips (Appendix 3). Three different captains made round trips in the ship, otherwise each outward and return passage was sailed under a different master. The ship’s homeward bound cargo value increased only after the first voyage. Thereafter, it declined (Table 1). I have not analyzed records sufficiently to know whether this decline should be attributed to Valkenisse’s age or the general vicissitudes of VOC commerce. When Valkenisse reached Batavia for her seventh and final time in January 1734, she was in her seventeenth year of life. She never sailed for home again. She served in some capacity for seven years until she was wrecked in September 1740 at Bantam,16 now Banten, a Javanese port west of present-day Jakarta. That’s about all we know of Valkenisse herself.

VOC Models

Table 1. Return Cargo Values for Valkenisse. From Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries. Ending Date Values, Guilders 1719

511,879

1721

519,052

1723

495,165

1726

472,421

1729

211,351

1732

174,166

Relatively few VOC retourschepen were ever portrayed as models in their own time. We actually know of only about a dozen or so and, of these, only five firmly represent ships that are known to have existed, as the Valkenisse model does. From the larger group only one specimen, Prins Willem of 1651, dates from the seventeenth century, and it is early enough to not be considered representative of the body of models used in this study. Thus, the first half of the VOC’s history is all but unrepresented, and most of the models could be said to be comparatively recent. The useful subgroup of five spans fifty years of the VOC’s middle life from 1717 to 1767. I was startled and quietly pleased to realize that Valkenisse was apparently the oldest model of the lot, a fact that seemed to amplify and definitely complicated my project. Of all these models, Valkenisse is second largest in size only to the model of den Ary in the National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam. What characteristics epitomize a model of a VOC retourschip? Two predominate and serve to separate these vessels from other similar ships, especially Dutch warships. On some VOC models, such as den Ary and Bleiswijk, the normally regular gunport spacing is interrupted by a larger space, or gap, at about the middle of the hull’s length (Figure 8). The gap is reflected on both the overloopdek and the verdek, or, respectively, the vessel’s lower and upper (or main) full-length decks. On the model of Valkenisse, six gunports can be found ahead of and abaft the gap on each deck. In a 1930 general query concerning models of VOC ships, even the sage R.C. Anderson had to ask, “What was the purpose of this gap?” He had not learned by the time he published a discussion of his findings over two years later.17

Figure 8. The arrows show the wider spacing between gunports No. 6 and 7 on both full-length decks.

10 É OPPORTUNITY Visual and tactile examination of the interior of Valkenisse’s lower deck revealed quickly that in this gap on each side there was an enclosed compartment against the bulwarks. Hoving had explained, during one of our earliest conversations, that one compartment was the kombuis, or ship’s galley, and the other was the bottelarij, or officers’ pantry. There is no way to distinguish between the two structurally, but only one, the galley, was vented by a schoorsteen, or smokehead. Contemporary models and other sources generally confirm that galleys on VOC vessels were not on the centerline because they show smokeheads at one side or the other, near the bulwarks. This information helped awaken in me the notion that my education regarding ship building and outfitting had been distinctly Anglo-centric. Such a prejudice is understandable in one whose maritime upbringing evolved from the cradle of an American shipbuilding and boatbuilding tradition that developed almost entirely in the northeastern region of today’s United States, the region that comprised our country’s original thirteen, and ultimately British, colonies. My off-kilter perspective, created by cultural astigmatism, required correction.

Figure 9. The sun deck, red arrow, spans the after half of the exposed portion of the quarterdeck.

The second feature that identified a VOC retourschip was the zonnedek. This was, as the name implies, the sun deck, but it served more as a canopy (Figure 9). It is represented on many contemporary VOC models including Oostrust, Padmos/Blydorp, den Ary, and Bleiswijk. Spanning the after portion of the halfdek, or quarterdeck, it was a lightly constructed but, I believe, permanent structure supported by stanchions mounted on the quarterdeck bulwarks. In earlier years covered by this study, the sun deck stood entirely ahead of the mizzenmast, as on Valkenisse, but in later years it was penetrated by the mast. Unlike modern cruise ships, aboard which passengers seek the sun, I believe a VOC sun deck was intended to provide the ship’s elite (and you may be assured the social structure within the large number of people aboard VOC ships was highly stratified18) with shelter from brutal tropical sunlight and torrential rain. Openings between the stanchions, the bulwarks, and the sun deck itself were equipped with inward-opening19 lattices that permitted cross-ventilation and reduced morning and evening low-angle glare from the sun. The open deck area beneath the sun deck was probably the most pleasant place aboard the ship. É

Notes 1

The exhibition ran from 20 November 1990 through 10 March 1991.

H.I. Chapelle, “Model Room Boston Museum of Fine Arts,” The Mariner V:3 (July 1931), p. 70; Irving R. Wiles, letter to J. Templeman Coolidge, 4 November 1928, MFA Object File 32.183, the letter’s full text appears in Appendix 2; Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., letter to J. Templeman Coolidge, 29 October 1928, MFA Object File 32.183, the letter’s full text appears in Appendix 1; Maria Pulsone Woods and Rob Napier, “Ship Models at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston — A Fresh Look,” Nautical Research Journal 37:4 (December 1992), p. 198; and Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957).

OPPORTUNITY É 11 3

Various conversations with Jonathan Fairbanks and Gerald W.R. Ward.

For more history of the MFA model gallery see Woods and Napier, pp. 196-214.

McLanathan, Ship Models.

For more on the Dutch Navy Model Collection, see the CD-ROM “Maritime Technology from the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam: Multimedia Catalogue of the Dutch Navy Model Collection, 1698-1889” (Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum, 1995).

Albert Hoving, letter to author, 7 February 1992.

Els M. Jacobs, In Pursuit of Pepper and Tea, The Story of the Dutch East India Company (Amsterdam: Netherlands Maritime Museum Amsterdam, 1991).

Spelling of this group took other forms including Herren Zeventeen, Heeren XVII, etc.

10 J.R. Bruijn, F.S. Gaastra, and I. Schöffer, Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries, Rks Geschiedkundige Publicatiën, Grote Serie 165 (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1987). 11 http://www.tanap.net/content/archives/preservation.htm, visited 4 July 2003. Other VOC records, in various states of preservation, may be found in India, Sri Lanka, South Africa, Indonesia, England, and France. 12 Dutch-Asiatic Shipping; and www.vocsite.nl/index.html, visited 4 July 2003. 13 http://museoprado.mcu.es/prado/html/imuerte.html, visited 31 December 2003. He was noted for owning the macabre work “The Triumph of Death” painted by Peter Bruegel “the Elder” in oil and tempura on a panel around 1562; it is now in the Museo del Prado. 14 Built between 1547 and 1557 to defend the Westerscheld, Rammekens, near the town of Ritthem, is evidently now the oldest surviving coastal defense fort in Western Europe. 15 Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, multiple entries. 16 Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, multiple entries. 17 R.C. Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen and Other Matters,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVI (1930), p. 89; and Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVIII (1932), p. 165. 18 Gawronski, Kist, et al., HOLLANDIA Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers b.v., 1992), p. 26. 19 G.C.E. Crone, “Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 154.

Part 2 PROVENANCE One — Hypothesis No official provenance for the Valkenisse model exists for the period prior to the First World War, a two-hundred year interval that amounts to roughly two thirds of her life thus far. Despite this lack, it was essential to have a firm foundation upon which to base decisions about the model. With no chronology, puzzles presented by the surviving hull could not be reasonably or consistently solved. Therefore, based on evidence that surfaced during the years the model was in my care, I developed the following hypothesis for her early history. There being no reason to believe otherwise, I assumed the model was built in 1717. This may amount to little more than a convenient conceit based on the presence of the date on the model’s stern (Figure 3, page 4). No specific physical or archival indication, other than the nebulous feeling of great age, assigns 1717 to the model’s creation. No records have surfaced to convince us that anything significant enough happened in her career to warrant the building of a commemorative model later. There were just too many retourschepen. For now let us speculate that governing members of the Zeeland Chamber of the VOC wanted a model of a new retourschip. We ask: Why? Hoving believes models like Valkenisse “were meant as decorations for the chambers of the VOC” although “that was probably not the only reason for their existence.”1 In fact, as we shall see, the VOC may have wanted a model of a retourschip at just that time, and Valkenisse may have turned out to be the subject. As for who, specifically, might have constructed the model, Hoving wrote such models “were built by someone with full understanding” of large vessel construction, “probably someone working [in] the [ship]yard.” Thus, a company shipwright was probably instructed to become a modelwright to replicate Valkenisse. Hoving indicated that just because such models were to be decorative “does not mean they were not true copies of their large alter-egos.”2 However, we know from observation that the modelwright did not replicate every part of the vessel’s fabric. Instead, he stylized and simplified in ways that indicate some connections between Dutch model builders and those elsewhere, like England and France. Regardless, there are enough specifically Dutch characteristics within the hull to prove our modeler was, indeed, Dutch. Chief among these indicators were the ship’s galley and officers’ pantry compartments on the lower deck. Our modelwright used what we call today plank-on-frame construction to build the hull’s skin and frame of oak fastened with good-sized handmade iron nails. Details of closer-grained wood were added and the masts, at least, were pine. Remnants of fiber rigging lodged in through-hull fairleads and clogged with paint all but certify the model was fully rigged. But she was not armed. Ringbolts for training tackles and breech ropes garnished all the gunports on the model’s bulwarks from the quarterdeck down to the lower deck, but no traces of rigging line were found on any of the ironwork and no evidence of gun carriage trucks, such as scrapes, glue shadows, or pin holes, were found on deck areas inboard of the gunports.

PROVENANCE É 13 We can easily visualize the new Valkenisse model being displayed prominently in Middelburg’s VOC headquarters, possibly on a table or in an alcove. In time, as other models were built, or as Valkenisse’s condition deteriorated, she may have been removed from prominence. After about, say, eighty years, when the VOC’s business waned and finally concluded, assets were liquidated and the model was probably sold. Or perhaps it was rescued by someone who cared for her; there is one speculation of some rebuilding in “about 1800.”3 Regardless, about then, the model disappeared. To where? A good deal of evidence on the model itself indicates that someone, at some time, crudely tried to convert this very Dutch artifact into a model of a British vessel, so I suspect the model went to England.

Two — Modern Valkenisse did not surface until over a century later in New York City. She was spotted by a man named Clarkson A. Collins, Jr. I assumed this was sometime between the 1918 Armistice and, say, 1922 because Collins later wrote, in a letter dated October 1928, that he had been in communication with a Dutch fellow about Valkenisse “for nearly ten years.”4 This is as exact as the beginning of the modern provenance gets. Collins evidently purchased the model, a target of love at first sight, immediately. Irving R. Wiles wrote that Collins was “so excited that he could not leave her for a moment with the dealer, he squeezed her somehow into a taxi.” He stopped at Wiles’s residence and “‘phoned up to [him] to go down to see her. He then taxied to the ferry and from there actually carried her to the train and to his home (he then lived in New Jersey).”5 Valkenisse is 1.7 meters long and portly; one conjures a slapstick image of her (and the bundle of extra parts) getting drubbed in various New York City transportation systems. Where, exactly, did Collins make his purchase? Was it from an antique dealer or at an auction? Could we find out? For answers, I interviewed Grant Walker, a researcher attached to the United States Naval Academy Museum in Annapolis, Maryland. Walker had been working on the legendary Henry Huddleston Rogers Collection of British dockyard models now owned by the museum. Walker and I agreed that Wiles may not have known or recalled correctly whether the dealer was a retailer or an auction house. We agreed a collector was more likely to experience a sort of adrenalin-charged high, like Wiles described for Collins, after a competitive auction than after making a purchase at a shop.6 Further, it is generally the case that auction-purchased goods are cash and carry, so Collins might have been forced to lug Valkenisse home straightaway. Was it possible to learn where the dealer or auctioneer obtained Valkenisse? Could we follow the trail across back the Atlantic to England or the Netherlands? Walker had posed similar questions for each of the Rogers Collection models. It is relatively easy, Walker said, to trace a model’s provenance back to 1920s-era collectors, as we have done for Valkenisse, and it is generally not too tough to determine the dealers from whom they bought models, if they were in America. Before that, though, paths get muddy. It is frequently easier, he said, to discover to whom models belonged when they were new than in intervening years, which could amount, as in Valkenisse’s case, to centuries. Walker provided names of several

14 É PROVENANCE Northeast antiques dealers and auction houses known to have dealt in high-end ship models. It was unnecessary for me to track down sources for them, though, because Walker already had; he had not encountered any references to Valkenisse.7 Collins and Wiles knew each other as members of The Ship Model Society, which had been organized in New York in 1920. The group mounted exhibitions in 1920 and 1921, at least, that were heralded by formal invitations and tickets (Figure 10) and that displayed models built and collected by members. The Society gathered a potent group of model connoisseurs, collectors, and builders numbering just fifty men,8 but I do not know if this number was elitely self-legislated or reflected a limit of community interest. Regardless, many members are still well-known today, not only to ship modelers, but to other, less marine-oriented souls.

Figure 10. The Ship Model Society exhibition announcement, top, and ticket, bottom. (Havemeyer Scrapbook, courtesy United States Naval Academy Museum Library)

A sampling of members includes Clifford W. Ashley, the author and marine painter known for whaling subjects and his encyclopedic work The Ashley Book of Knots. Horace E. Boucher, a French émigré, operated a prolific New York ship model studio; his works are still highly regarded. Historian Arthur H. Clark wrote The Clipper Ship Era and The History of Yachting 1600-1815. Bostonian Frederick C. Fletcher collected the models of the British 100-gun ship-of-the-line known as Royal George and of Flying Cloud (which was built by Boucher); both became cornerstones in the MFA model collection. Gordon H. Grant was a great marine artist whose works are still eagerly sought. Junius S. Morgan was a yachtsman and model collector. Henry Huddleston Rogers was arguably the best known American collector of contemporary sailing warship models. Franklin D. Roosevelt was at that time the Assistant Secretary of the Navy and needs no further introduction. Booth Tarkington was a novelist, playwright, and model collector. Henry O. Havemeyer, who assembled the scrapbook which yielded the preceding information, was “an expert builder of model ships.”9 Member W. Harrison Cady collected ship models and was an artist who, among other things, illustrated the Peter Rabbit books. About ship modeling in the early 1920s, he wrote, “Time was when collecting ship models was left almost entirely to artists. Ever in search of the picturesque with which to adorn the studio, they would return from summer sketching trips with a ‘square rigger’ bought for a few dollars in some little fishing village. If they journeyed abroad they would send home a quaint Dutch model from Maarken, a fishing boat from Britanny or perhaps an early 18th Century Dutch man-of-war from Amsterdam.”10 Of course, I can only wonder if the man-of-war that inspired Cady was Collins’s Valkenisse, perhaps at that moment not yet understood as a VOC merchant vessel. In the early 1920s, Ship Model Society member Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., was in his late thirties. His business was advertising, and he was evidently responsible, at least in part, for the long-lived Texaco Star logo. His pleasure was ship model collecting and he had been at it for about fifteen years, which was about ten years longer than the mighty Rogers. With about fifty examples, Collins led the

PROVENANCE É 15 membership of the Society. It was written about him that “occasionally a collector with a true flair can find a gem in a rubbish heap.” When he saw one model, “it was in fragments, and only his keen eye for intimate details of old ships enabled him to realize what the huddle of sticks actually was. It is due to his knowledge and skill with tools, combined with infinite patience, that the model stands as it does today, a perfect example of type and time.”11 This specimen also reads like it might have been Valkenisse, but it was actually a British model. Once Collins got Valkenisse home, he began his research. He wrote a query to The Mariner’s Mirror that reported, “I have recently obtained a very fine model of a Dutch East India-man which, according to the inscription on her stern, is the Valkenisse of 1717. The hull of this model is in practically all respects exactly similar to that in the Rijks Museum.” He was referring to a model named Mercurius. He then exposed important facts about Valkenisse. “Generally speaking the hull is in very good state of preservation. The figurehead, quarter galleries, and decorations of the stern are intact.” However, not all was well. “Unfortunately, the planking of her topgallantforecastle, quarter, and poop decks is missing. Also some reconstruction work was done on her about 1800, which has entirely obliterated the beakhead if there was one …. The rails of the head are missing.” He added the “yards and masts are of original workmanship, although somewhat manhandled from her previous restoration.”12 Godfried Carol Edward Crone fielded Collins’s query quickly, in the next issue. Crone was a Dutch modeler and researcher in Rotterdam who built at least two models that ended up in the United States of Hendrik Hudson’s Halve Maen, or Half Moon. He should not be confused with his nephew, Ernst Crone, who was closely associated for many years with the National Maritime Museum in Amsterdam. In his Mariner’s Mirror reply to Collins, G.C.E. Crone provided some of Valkenisse’s history, but recommended that Collins steer clear of Mercurius because her authenticity as a VOC vessel was questionable. In her stead, he suggested Collins use as a reference the 1725 to 1727 Padmos/Blydorp model in Rotterdam because it was far closer in date to Valkenisse and had “perfect original rigging.” The Mariner’s Mirror published a page of sketches by Crone of details on the contemporary models he mentioned (Figure 11).13 Collins later reported that he had “corresponded” with Crone.14 I searched

Figure 11. Drawings in G.C.E. Crone's response to Collins's Mariner's Mirror query. Drawings I-VI represent detail on the models of Padmos/Blydorp, den Ary, and, probably, Prins Willem of 1650, a VOC ship from Middelburg. Numbers VII and VIII are of Mercurius. Number IX is from "an Indiaman of 1760," but Crone doesn't say which one. In X, the dotted lines show how a warship had a lower stem and higher bulkhead than an Indiaman. (Crone, "Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.'s "Mercurius," The Mariner's Mirror IX (1923), p. 155)

16 É PROVENANCE Figure 12. The Culver Photograph. This is the only known photograph of the model of Valkenisse taken before Collins worked on the model. The photographer remains unknown, but Henry Culver planned to use this image in a large format volume on contemporary eighteenth-century European models. The back of the 71/ 2- by 10-inch image has stamps for the "U.S. Naval Academy Museum" and "Henry B. Culver," his hand written name "H.B. Culver" (which is possibly a signature), and crop marks. The latter indicate the omission of the hull below the waterline. Notice the white planking between the wales, individual links in the mizzen chains, and the dark field on the name and date banner. Notice the lack of decorative frames on the small open ports near the upper rail, of a stanchioned rail along the top of the hull, of all window mullions, of rudder chains, and of large female figures at the quarters. (Courtesy United States Naval Academy Museum Library)

alow and aloft for traces of this exchange. I met with Collins’s grandson, Clarkson A. Collins, IV, in Rhode Island. He said that he thought he recollected something in family records, but, after hunts through “a thousand papers” could not actually find anything. I corresponded with Dutch archivist Roel H. Rozendaal of Rotterdam and he could find no such records in the Maritiem Museum Rotterdam. I asked my colleagues Joe McCleary and Alan Frazer if they could find anything in The Mariners’ Museum in Newport News, Virginia, but they came up dry. The MFA object file for Valkenisse contained nothing. While we should not be surprised that the Collins-Crone correspondence vanished, I wondered if Collins’s side of it was just glorifying his single Mariner’s Mirror exchange with Crone. In any event, Collins “did no repair work on her for some years.” Rather, he waited until he had “full data regarding her type.”15 This delay may have presaged those between the MFA and me seventy years later. While Collins gathered information, yet another character whose last name began with C was playing a role. Henry B. Culver was by trade a New York lawyer but gave himself over almost fatally to the sirens of ship modeling and became a star in its rarefied New York atmosphere starting in about 1910. He was a profes-

PROVENANCE É 17 sional and, evidently employing quite a number of artisans in his studio, built “some of the finest models ever turned out in this country.” He exhibited his work annually at the Architectural League, and, perhaps most notably, “restored and rerigged many of the models” in the Rogers Collection. He was a member of The Ship Model Society and its secretary in 1921. Harrison Cady classed Culver a “genius” and reported his work had become very collectible in his own day. Applying his evident love and familiarity with early European models, he compiled a formal, annotated photogravure album of fifty models entitled Contemporary Scale Models of Vessels of the Seventeenth Century16 expressely for The Ship Model Society members; indeed, the first hundred copies of the edition limited to a thousand were reserved for them. Not without ambition, Culver intended to follow this book with five more volumes that would carry his coverage forward through 1820. Naturally, Culver knew about Valkenisse and planned to include her in his volume devoted to the period from 1700 to 1730. He had in hand an excellent, but undated photograph of the model’s stern and port quarter (Figure 12). This image was preserved with other Culver material that had found a home in the library of the United States Naval Academy Museum and was brought to my attention by Grant Walker. From details in the Culver photograph, we know it was almost certainly made before Collins did any work on the model at all and, thus, is by itself an incredibly important document. Culver’s longhand notes accompanying the image, both on its back and on a separate ruled sheet, are also telling. He was prepared to identify Valkenisse as a “warship,” and only recognized two of the three lower wales. Acknowledging how little of the model shows in the image, he scribbled on its back “side view needed;” he also added the instruction “omit this” below what I can only suppose are crop marks that would delete the hull below the waterline.17 Perhaps Culver thought this old Dutch model’s bottom was too dirty and rough to compare favorably with English examples. Regretfully, neither the side view nor the book for which it was intended were ever made. We can determine almost exactly what Collins did with Valkenisse by comparing a combination of information from his 1923 Mariner’s Mirror description of her and Culver’s photograph with how she looked when he finally sold her. In brief, Collins reconstructed a low beakhead as Crone described and fitted new headrails. He replaced the planking for the bakdek, or forecastle, the quarterdeck, and the campanjedek, or poop. He built a new sun deck and the curved balustrade at the break of the quarterdeck. His efforts included many other related repairs and constructions that we will review in due course. With regard to the rig, several hundred copies of blocks, deadeyes, and strops were made by someone Collins hired. It seemed possible Culver might have been that person, but the fittings’ crudity made me believe they were not fashioned by someone of Culver’s reputation. As I had, Collins thought all the spars that accompanied the model were original to it.18 By 1926, Collins decided it was time to reduce his collection. He sold most of his models through a nicely cataloged December auction at the American Art Association in New York. However, he considered Valkenisse “so unusual and so striking that [he] kept her of all [his] models, with the exception of gifts and the like.” As it happened, most of the latter were Dutch, as well.19 Sometime before late 1928, though, Collins had evidently moved back to Providence, Rhode Island, probably to his son’s home, and had changed his mind.

18 É PROVENANCE He approached J. Templeman Coolidge, a trustee at Boston’s MFA and a collector of what we today consider decorative arts. I do not think Coolidge had a particular maritime slant to his collecting interests, but he saw ship models as fine examples of craftsmen’s skills. Simply put, Coolidge collected ship models for the best of reasons, for perhaps the only reason one should collect pieces of art of any kind: He considered them beautiful. He paid attention to his eye, rather than to, perhaps, his sense of where a vessel fit in history for either romantic or intellectual reasons. Thus he accumulated a group of about twenty superlative models. He initially loaned them to the MFA and then, in 1932, he made his loan a gift.20 Collins wrote to Coolidge, “At last I have brought myself to a point were I am willing to part with the Valkenisse and I am taking the matter up with you first both on account of our past relations and, too, because I know that all of your models will have a permanent museum home.”21 He continued: It is rather difficult to set a price for her. Under many conditions I would not sell her at any price. It seems to me, though, that as she is $3,500. is a fair figure. She ought easily to be worth $4,500. to $5,000. when or if rigged. I have spent about $400. for blocks, metal work etc, so that she costs [sic] me close to $3,000. not including hundreds of hours of work on her. Every minute of them enjoyed, however. If you wanted to buy her as she is and then have me finish the rigging I should be glad to do so. This would take a long time, however.22

Evidently, Collins had paid the block maker about $400, and that increased the model’s net cost to Collins to almost $3,000. This indicates Collins paid the New York dealer about $2,500 for Valkenisse. In 1923, this princely sum could purchase eight-and-a-half Model T Fords.23 I detect, in Collins’s last papragraph his ambivalence about parting with the model. It seemed he would like to stay attached to her by rigging her. But the “long time” before Coolidge received her would delay payment to Collins. Coolidge did his homework by writing to Irving Wiles for advice. Wiles had grown up in New York and “haunted” the waterfront to learn about the sailing vessels that spawned his love of models. By 1922, he had been collecting for about thirty years at about one model a year. He was credited with “awakening interest” in ship models, and with being the first collector to actually build one. Wiles boasted, “I really started American collectors on this hobby, for I believe that I was the first of them all.”24 Wiles responded to Coolidge’s query that he knew Valkenisse “quite well.” He recommended that Coolidge either go ahead and have Collins rig her or that he have Bernard Hart, a Boston model maker, do so under Collins’s tutelage. Then Wiles torpedoed his own credibility as a practitioner of historical accuracy for ship models by writing, “Don’t mention this to Collins [because he] is anxious to have her coloring correct for the period but if the model were mine I would take off the white on her bottom leaving the polished walnut, as I did in your frenchman. Don’t you think it would improve her appearance? I am quite sure she is built of walnut.”25 Of course, modern curators and conservators would quake at Wiles’s suggestion, and we are relieved Coolidge did not succumb. Further, we must wonder which model, exactly, Coolidge’s “frenchman”

PROVENANCE É 19 was and what Wiles did to her. Finally, Wiles must be corrected: Valkenisse was planked with oak, not walnut. About Collins’s asking price, Wiles said it seemed “reasonable, certainly less than a dealer would demand,” but advised Coolidge to “get her for less” if possible.26 Regretably, we do not know what Coolidge finally paid, but we are sure a deal was struck because the model moved to Boston. Coolidge probably ensured that his latest acquisition was soon on display in the ship model gallery the MFA had recently opened in 1928.27 At about this time, the museum made its first photographic images of Valkenisse. Available to researchers, they were published in several places during the next few years. As no MFA records indicate that any work was done to the model at this time, I believe these photos reflect the condition that the model was in when Collins sold it to Coolidge. Further comparison of 1930’s-era images with those published in the 1957 model collection catalog indicate still no work had been done. Richard B.K. McLanathan, the MFA’s curator of decorative arts who wrote the 1957 catalog, acknowledged Winthrop Pratt, Jr., as having “collaborated . . . in the preparation of the installation of the models” for the 1957 gallery opening and for his “expert skill and knowledge.”28 It is possible, although not recorded in the MFA, that Pratt did some things to Valkenisse during this period. It was probably Pratt who McLanathan had in mind to execute the “complete restoration.” Finally, comparison of all these images with the model itself in the early 1990s indicates that nothing substantive had been done to her since 1957. In other words, I believe it is safe to say that the model was in nearly the same state when Collins sold it in 1928 as when I first approached it over sixty years later in the early 1990s. If this is true, then our provenance is up to date. É

Notes 1

Albert Hoving, letter to author, 8 February 1995.

Hoving, letter to author, 8 February 1995.

Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., “Queries, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 96.

Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., letter to J. Templeman Coolidge, 29 October 1928, MFA Object File 32.183.

Irving R. Wiles, letter to J. Templeman Coolidge, 4 November 1928, MFA Object File 32.183.

Grant Walker, interview with author, 26 May 1999.

Walker, interview with author, 26 May 1999.

Wm. B. M’Cormick, “Cruising with Ship Models,” International Studio (September 1922), pp. 489, 490, see Havemeyer Scrapbook, following; Henry O. Havemeyer, Jr., roster of The Ship Model Society, “Ship Plans, Vol. 1.,” scrapbook of ship model and maritime ephemera, earliest date 1920. United States Naval Academy Museum, Annapolis, Maryland: USNA 2005_015, hereafter “Havemeyer Scrapbook.”

Roster of The Ship Model Society; and [New York] Sun and Herald (27 July 1920); see

20 É PROVENANCE Havemeyer Scrapbook for both. 10 Harrison Cady, “Fleets that Never Sail,” clipping, early 1920s, see Havemeyer Scrapbook. 11 Clarkson A. Collins, IV, interview with author, 19 June 1999; Walker, interview with author, 26 May 1999; and M’Cormick, pp. 490, 493-494. 12 Collins, Jr., “Queries, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” p. 96. 13 Alex Bellinger, “Building the Addison Collection,” Nautical Research Journal 40:2 (June 1995), p. 72; and M’Cormick, p. 489; Roel Rozendaal, letter to author, 25 September 1999; Hoving, e-mail to author, 31 March 1999; and G.C.E. Crone, “Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 155. 14 Collins, Jr., letter to Coolidge, 29 October 1928. 15 Collins, IV, interviews with author, 19 June 1999 and 13 December 2000; Rozendaal, letter to author, 25 August 1999; Joseph R. McCleary, e-mail to author, 20 May 1999; Alan D. Frazer, letter to author, 14 April 1999; and Collins, Jr., letter to Coolidge, 29 October 1928. 16 Anonymous, “How Skilful Tool Users Win Fortunes Building Models of Famous Old Ships for Millionaires,” Popular Science Monthly (January 1923), pp. 49-50; Henry B. Culver, letter to H.O. Havemeyer, Jr., 4 February 1921; see Havemeyer Scrapbook for previous two; M’Cormick, p. 490; Anonymous, Henry Huddleston Rogers Collection of Ship Models (Annapolis, Naval Institute Press, 1971), p. v; Cady, “Fleets that Never Sail”; and Henry B. Culver, Contemporary Scale Models of Vessels of the Seventeenth Century, etc. (New York: Payson & Clarke Ltd., 1926). 17 Walker, letter to author, 1 June 1999; and Henry B. Culver, undated manuscript notes, United States Naval Academy Museum. 18 Collins, Jr., letter to Coolidge, 29 October 1928. 19 (American Art Association), The Renowned Collection of Ship Models Formed by Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., etc. to be Sold on Wednesday, December 8, 1926 at 8:15 (New York: American Art Association, 1926), see Havemeyer Scrapbook; Collins, Jr., letter to Coolidge, 29 October 1928; and Collins, IV, interview with author, 19 June 1999. 20 Collins, Jr., letter to Coolidge, 29 October 1928; and Maria Pulsone Woods and Rob Napier, “Ship Models at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston — A Fresh Look,” Nautical Research Journal 37:4 (December 1992), p. 196. 21 Collins, Jr., letter to Coolidge, 29 October 1928; Walker, interview with author, 26 May 1999; Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957); (American Art Association), The Renowned Collection of Ship Models; and Woods and Napier, pp. 196-214. “Past relations” likely referred to at least four other Collins models, the British cutter Earl Howe, the French 18-gun corvette, the American Down-Easter Luzon, and the builder’s half-model of the early American clipper Samuel Russell, that Coolidge purchased at the Art Association auction and deposited with the MFA. 22 Collins, Jr., letter to Coolidge, 29 October 1928. 23 http://www.aaca.org/history/cars_30.htm; visited 14 September 2003. 24 G.W. Harris, “Ship Modellers’ Art Revived,” clipping, early 1920s; M’Cormick, p. 488; and Cady, “Fleets that Never Sail”; see Havemeyer Scrapbook for all. 25 Bellinger, p. 72; and Wiles, letter to Coolidge, 4 November 1928. 26 Wiles, letter to Coolidge, 4 November 1928. 27 Woods and Napier, pp. 196-214. 28 McLanathan, Ship Models.

Part 3 RESEARCH SOURCES Meeting the characters who convened to answer the many questions posed by Valkenisse will be like walking into a large party where you know no one, encountering a few dozen interesting faces, and struggling to recall unfamiliar names and relationships. To learn about Valkenisse, I used sources of four basic types: real people, books, artwork, and other contemporary ship models. We will begin with the first three so they can help with the last, the party’s principal guests. Of the real people there were few, but they provided gracious on-going support and perspective. Their opinions carried a lot of weight. Of course, Ab Hoving, the conservator of ship models at Rijksmuseum, is now familiar. He always responded to my letters and, later, e-mail requests for information or for help with Dutch language quickly, with wit and modesty. We have also met Grant Walker, a retired United States Army major who ironically found a niche at the United States Naval Academy Museum in Annapolis researching models in the Henry Huddleston Rogers collection. A by-product of Walker’s effort is a deep working knowledge of New York’s ship model scene between the World Wars. Once, after talking at length in our shared field of interest, Walker said there are probably not many people in the world who could even have such an arcane conversation, let alone be interested in it.1 True enough. Roel H. Rozendaal, of Rotterdam, who I have yet to meet, learned of the Valkenisse project, engaged me in correspondence and supplied me with photographs of a Valkenisse-era model and artwork.

Books For ready information on new topics, ship modelers cannot rely on collegial water-cooler conversation. In the era before Internet connectivity, we worked in isolation. We depended on books. So, before I wrote my first letter regarding Valkenisse to Hoving in 1992, I looked in the literature to see what there might be to help. As my first goal, I sought contemporary works that would do for Dutch ship building what, for instance, David Steel’s works did for the English. I discovered two, but only the second mattered. The first was published by Nicolaes Witsen in 1671. The work had an extended title the beginning of which, Aeloude en hedenaegsche scheeps-bouw en bestier, or Old and Modern Shipbuilding and Managing, will have to suffice. It refers to what Lars Bruzelius, an indefatigable Swedish indexer of contemporary maritime books and ship models, styled a “chaotic collection” of instructions for building a pinnace, material on classical-era vessels and exotic boats, a glossary of nautical terms, and much more. Bruzelius traced multiple expansions and deletions through the work’s several editions.2 By amazing coincidence, however, the most recent effort regarding Witsen was just being done by Hoving. In 1994, as I was beginning serious Valkenisse research, he published Nicolaes Witsens Scheep-Bouw-Konst Open Gestelt, or Nicolaes Witsen’s Ship Building Art Exposed, in which he analyzed and organized Witsen’s chaos. Naturally, Hoving wrote in Dutch. A translation for an English language edition was completed, and release for it was planned. However, by 1997 the

22 É RESEARCH SOURCES project had stalled and showed “no signs of life.” Hoving eventually suggested I not worry too much about Witsen and the translation of it because he doubted it contained much information that would be useful for the Valkenisse project.3 To introduce the second book, I will tell a little story. Years ago, I stumbled into the shop of a Midtown Manhattan antiquarian book dealer. I asked if he had anything about ship building. “Just a van Yk,” he said and fetched a book from another room. It was not large, but it was bound in translucent, lustrous, and ancient vellum. The pages inside were beautiful, too. But it was in Dutch, meaningless to me then, and not exactly in my range at $6,000. It did not occur to me I would ever need “a van Yk.”

Figure 13. Title page and fronticepiece from Cornelis van Yk, De Nederlansche Scheeps-Bouwer-Konst Open Gestelt (1697).

Figure 14. Cover of Jerzy Gawronski, Bas Kist, and Odilia Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, HOLLANDIA Compendium (1992).

Cornelis van Yk compiled De Nederlandsche ScheepsBouwer-Konst Open Gestelt, or The Dutch Ship Building Art Exposed, and published it in 1697, a quarter century after Witsen (Figure 13). In those slowly changing times, the twenty years between its appearance and Valkenisse’s would, I hoped, seem inconsequential. In text, tables, and a few illustrations, van Yk laid out all manner of rules and proportions for the construction, masting, and rigging of larger classes of Dutch vessels. It was perfect, language problems notwithstanding. Having not acquired the original van Yk in New York, I was elated to discover, at an Amsterdam bookseller, that it had been released in a paperback facsimile edition for about $14.4 I bought three copies that I shared with colleagues. It is undeniably pleasant to read older books, to study their illustrations, to solemnly turn centuries-old pages, to imagine their previous caretakers. But old books are a problem. Rare and fragile, their daily use can substantially diminish their condition and value. This is when we benefit from modern facsimile reprints. The investment for most is substantially below the cost of originals. Bibliophiles who use, as well as own, the books in their care frequently keep originals in safe places and restrict actual use to “reader’s copies” that could either be deteriorated duplicate originals or facsimiles. The great advantage to the latter is that notes can be made directly in them. Thus, in the cheap facsimile of van Yk, I scribbled translations and other marginalia without fear or regret of defacing a sacred original. Modern books also had a place because they helped interpret contemporary books. Primary among modern works was the hefty HOLLANDIA Compendium (Figure 14).5 Hollandia was a VOC retourschip that foundered on the English coast during her maiden voyage in 1743. Her underwater archeological site became the foundation for this 1993 volume, a wonder of effective cross-referencing. Ever bureaucratic, the VOC’s Heeren Zeventien cataloged the thousands of items they considered standard equipment on a retourschip. The inventory had an extended title but was, in essence, called “Lyste, van ‘t gene tot d’Equipagie behorende. . . . Voor een retour-schip, fluyt oft jacht,” or “List,

RESEARCH SOURCES É 23 of the items belonging to the Equipage. . . . For a retourschip, fluyt or jacht.” The compendium’s authors not only reproduced the list in facsimile, but included English translations and drawings (which were contemporary where possible, modern where necessary) of nearly all the objects, whether masts or meathooks. This astonishingly valuable bilingual illustrated catalog was then keyed to a roster of every artifact, whether cannon or cringle, actually found at the wreck site and further included, for each item, a detailed archeological rendering. Finally, for the masting and rigging of mid-eighteenth-century VOC vessels, there was a four-drawing key created by Hoving. Items in each sketch were letter-number coded to an English rigging schedule and then carried to a Dutch-language equipment list that included major dimensions for sails and cordage. This all sounds complex, but, in practice, the dense volume became my principal maritime Dutch-to-English Rosetta Stone. The second important modern work was a collection of the four-year monthly serial of articles written by G.C. Dik to describe and document his building of an elaborate plank-on-frame, rigged model of the 1665 Dutch naval flagship De Zeven Provinciën, or The Seven Provinces.* The articles appeared in the Dutch modelers’ magazine de Modelbouwer, or The Model Builder, from 1983 to 1986 and were later released as a proper book.6 Although the article and book were never published in English, and the subject vessel was a warship from an earlier period, Dik’s illustrations were extremely useful for learning Dutch words for dozens of shipboard fittings. Profuse rigging diagrams were clear and well labeled. The most recent work, The Ships of Abel Tasman, was another created by the ever-productive Hoving, this time acting in league with draftsman Cor Emke and Emke’s son Just (Figure 15). To illustrate how vessels could easily be constructed skin-first from old shipbuilding records, Hoving built frame-in-plank models of the jacht Heemskerck and the fluyt Zeehaen that Abel Tasman employed during his 1642-1643 explorations of Tasmania, New Zealand, and elsewhere.7 This nicely boxed set included a paperbound book heavily illustrated with contemporary artwork; photos of Hoving’s models under construction; reductions of plans drawn by Cor Emke; and tables of scantlings, spar, and rigging specifications. The box also held a card of color samples and a portfolio of twenty sheets of Emke’s drawings reproduced full size with material for the fluyt on one side of each sheet and analogous jacht material on the other. Lastly, Just Emke created a self-starting compact disk that contained all the artwork and drawings used in the book. The CD was actually more useful than the paper drawings because I could zoom deeply into the digital images for maximum detail, detail that was ink-clogged in the book and on the sheets. This multi-media package was also multi-lingual and available in Dutch, English, or German. Language would be a problem because I could not speak or read Dutch. How would I cope with van Yk, Dik, or other works? The Dutch realize few others speak their tongue, and, rather than trying to convert many, they obligingly smooth the way for non-Dutch speakers. This explains the effort modern Dutch

* Two sources important to this work involve vessels with this name. For clarity in the text, the model and book by Dik are referred to in Dutch as “Zeven Provinciën”; the model in the National Maritime Museum, London, Figure 37, page 34, is referred to in English as “Seven Provinces.”

Figure 15. Cover of Hoving and Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman (2000).

24 É RESEARCH SOURCES authors and publishers expend on books like the bilingual HOLLANDIA Compendium and Hoving’s trilingual work about Tasman’s ships. Even so, most cross-referencing in these volumes was limited to nouns and adjectives that are in many ways similar in Dutch and English. To find out how things were done, I needed help with verbs, so I invested in a Dutch-English, English-Dutch dictionary.8 This was useful but, in the end, taught me that verb constructions have changed significantly since van Yk wrote three centuries ago. As I worked, Dutch nomenclature for many vessel parts stuck in my mind. I began using Dutch nouns in my notes, though I couldn’t compose sentences. This experience enriched me by taking me another step outside my Anglo-centric world. A few of the Dutch words resisted translation into English, so I have retained them in this report. Readers may take the same transcultural step I did. Some nautical historians and model builders may be familiar with one or more editions of From Keel to Truck Dictionary of Naval Terms by H. Paasch.9 I thought this multilingual tome would be useful. However, although it cross-referenced terms in five languages — English, French, Spanish, Italian, and German — it was not adaptable to the Dutch-English cross.

Figure 16. Cover of R.C. Anderson, The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (1927).

A work I had initially dismissed as, at best, outdated turned out to be the most useful English-language book in the project, even though it was seventy-five years old. R.C. Anderson’s The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 was issued in 1927 (Figure 16), but I worked with an inexpensive reprint. It is important to distinguish this book from Anderson’s Seventeenth-Century Rigging a Handbook for Model-Makers, a related work that covers a somewhat earlier era and omits foreign references.10 Roger C. Anderson was the father of modern scholarly research regarding ship models. An academically trained British man, he was an ocean’s width closer to the source of most models being collected in America and, so, could base his studies on a broader foundation of models and texts. He sustained The Mariners’ Mirror with queries, notes, and articles. He wrote several books and maintained voluminous correspondences. He built, repaired, and rerigged ship models. He was completely hooked. The Rigging of Ships discussed exactly what the full title states. Anderson based his 1927 study on contemporary artwork, printed material, and models. It was still a few years before he would begin his review of VOC vessels in The Mariner’s Mirror, and he had not yet learned about the model of Valkenisse in New York. With easy and enviably straightforward prose, Anderson dissected extremely complex rigging systems. At first glance, I thought his deceptively simple sketches actually diminished the quality of his work. However, when I combined Anderson’s text and sketches with my study of model photographs, things fell into place with wonderful satisfaction. For each aspect of a ship’s rigging, Anderson focused on how things were done on English vessels, but quickly acknowledged that methods differed elsewhere, and tactfully communicated differences with no hint of cultural chauvinism at all. Because Valkenisse existed at nearly the end of the period in which sprit topmasts were fitted on sailing vessels, I generally worked at the most modern limit of Anderson’s study.

RESEARCH SOURCES É 25

Photographic Collections An important group of books comprised photographic collections of models arranged to narrate the evolution of shipping. Five came out in a mid-1920’s celebratory spate that mirrored the then-current great interest in contemporary European ship models, their collectibility, and, perhaps, the self-congratulatory notion that most great models had already been located. These were what we now consider coffee-table books. They were large in format, heavily dependent on photographs, and short on significant text. Because of the importance of some models, there were understandable overlaps in content. Valkenisse is mentioned in none of them, probably because she was neither in good condition nor rigged. We’ll consider a few. In 1924, R. Morton Nance came out with Sailing-Ship Models a Selection from European and American Collections in a 1,750-copy limited edition (Figure 17). It contains 124 plates of photographs reproduced as halftones or lovely sepia gravures, each of the latter elegantly protected with a tipped-in tissue. In his acknowledgments, Nance mentioned Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., only in passing, but distinguished G.C.E. Crone (whose initials he transposed) and R.C. Anderson for their contributions on Dutch and British models respectively. Maritime bibliographer Charles O. McDonald claimed this was the “most-scholarly” of these model albums. In 2000, an inexpensive paperbound facsimile reprint was released under a different title.11 While removal of my rare first edition from workshop hazards was smart, the reprint offered no nod to the quality of the original’s gravures. Thus, the paperback was handy but not pleasurable to use. When in my teens, I had seen at a used book seller’s shop a gorgeous volume entitled Contemporary Scale Models of Vessels of the Seventeenth Century (Figure 18).12 To test the mettle of my mother’s annual offer to make a Christmas present to me of any book I might name, I mentioned this. Success! Of course, this Figure 17. Covers of R. Morton Nance, Sailing-Ship Models a Selection from European and American Collections (1924) and the Dover reprint Classic Sailing-Ship Models in Photographs (2000).

Figure 18, below. Title page of Henry B. Culver, Contemporary Scale Models of Vessels of the Seventeenth Century (1926). This copy belonged to Clarkson A. Collins, Jr.

26 É RESEARCH SOURCES was Culver’s marvelous 1926 book, but it displayed just fifty models restricted to the seventeenth century, so it was of minor value. Also in 1926, a German named August Köster published Modelle alter Segelschiffe, or Models of Old Sailing Ships, another title with halftoned and gravure reproductions. It was released in English, with Köster’s name Anglicized to Koester and the title changed to Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries.13 Koester exhibited about the same number of examples as Nance, but they represented a much broader range of geographic origins of ships and of types of ship models.

Figure 19. Cover of Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (1957); the “Blue Book.”

Another two from the 1920’s flurry were the perhaps too-prolific British author E. Keble Chatteron’s 1923 Ship Models and Frank C. Bowen’s 1927 From Carrack to Clipper, A Book of Sailing Ship Models. Also beautiful was Heinrich Winter’s slim, Dutch-language, photographic monograph Een Hollandse Tweedekker uit de jaren 1660/1670, or A Dutch Two-Decker from the years 1660/1670, which examined the exterior and interior (before fiberoptic scopes!) of a single sensational Dutch warship model that was destroyed in Berlin during the Second World War. The book is all that remains; it stands for the model in all ways except mass, color, and odor. In 1945, hard on the heels of the same war, the Nederlands Scheepvaart Museum published the third edition of Platen-Album that featured art and artifacts in its collections and had text in Dutch by W. Voorbeijtel Cannenburg, a long-time museum director. A.H. Waite’s Catalogue of Ship Models Part 1 Ships of the Western Tradition to 1815 is an awkward loose-leaf catalog of models in the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich.14 The formal catalog of the Rogers Collection at the United States Naval Academy Museum is inspiring, but offers no VOC vessels.15 Essential among photo albums of a museum’s ship model collection was Richard B.K. McLanathan’s Ship Models that the MFA published in 1957 (Figure 19). It is known among modelers as the “Blue Book” because of its cover. The incomparable photographs were made by Robert D. Wild and museum photographer Edward J. Moore.16 É For occassional reference I kept handy several modern books written primarily for ship modelers. However, most either tracked an author’s construction of his own model of a particular vessel; reviewed ship construction, fittings, and rigging in a fashion far too encyclopedic to assist me; or obscured whatever particular details and perspectives I sought. Let me say to students who justifiably consider some of these as near biblical contributions to the ship model literature that I do not intend to discredit any, just to say they did not play a big role in rigging a model of a Dutch East Indiaman of Valkenisse’s era. Examples of these include: R.C. Anderson, Seventeenth-Century Rigging a Handbook for Model-Makers;17 Charles G. Davis, The Ship Model Builder’s Assistant; James Lees, The Masting and Rigging of English Ships of War 1625-1860; C. Nepean Longridge, The Anatomy of Nelson’s Ships; Karl Heinz Marquard, Eighteenth-century Rigs & Rigging; E.W.

RESEARCH SOURCES É 27 Petrejus, Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE; and John R. Stephens, An Account of the Construction, and Embellishment of Old Time Ships.18 The last books I’ll mention contain reproductions of art. For readers who contend that ship models are themselves art, I will refine my discription to say these books display two-dimensional art. While I have depended to a considerable degree on contemporary paintings, engravings, etchings, lithographs, and the like as reliable sources for many modeling jobs, I did not for Valkenisse. Of course, the Dutch created a tremendous legacy of marine art, but arguably their greatest delineators, the van de Veldes, were of too early an age and focused on naval vessels and smaller craft. The most productive source I did employ was Sailing Ships Prints by the Dutch Masters from the 16th to the 19th Century, a volume edited by Irene de Groot and Robert Vorstman.19 A few other prints and paintings proved useful, but I encountered them individually and by happenstance. The best was provided by Roel Rozendaal. The image is by an artist identified as H. Rietschoof and shows a retourschip in Hoorn being rigged, or repaired and rerigged, with only her lower masts stepped (Figure 20). The bowsprit has a knee to support a sprit topmast and this helps us date the image to Valkenisse’s era. The image is in the Teylers Museum in Haarlem.

Contemporary Models On the surface, it seemed my goal was to make Valkenisse look like a VOC retourschip of 1717. However, I had to bear in mind that the Valkenisse in my studio was not a ship, but a model of a ship, an artifact that had fallen on hard times. My job was not to make her look like a model I might design and build from scratch. My job was different, to make Valkenisse look as much like she did when that hypothetical Middelburg modelwright fashioned her nearly three hundred years ago. This meant I had to understand and emulate the way he worked in antiquity. I had to take the same shortcuts he did and abide by the same model building conventions, use the same materials, and make the same mistakes. Contemporary VOC models were the primary sources used in this project. Old models came to center stage, became the supporting actresses to Valkenisse’s star. I listened to their stories. I learned how their details differed from those found aboard actual ships. In two trips to Europe, I visited as many VOC models as possible. Most are in the Netherlands and Belgium, two are in Britain. Only Valkenisse is in North America. I gathered information on about eighteen models. What did the models have in common? They were all old, full-hull, rigged models now institutionalized in European museums. Most represent VOC vessels, but one is a warship. Some no longer exist. Some may not portray actual vessels, and some may be misdated. At least one’s name was changed, but some have no

Figure 20. Retourschip at Hoorn by H. Rietschoof, detail. (S70, Teylers Museum, Haarlem)

28 É RESEARCH SOURCES names at all. Some are more accurate than others, several have been rerigged, some are more attractive, some less. Many have already appeared in the literature; a few I studied for what may be the first time. For most, I have many photographs taken either by me or others. Some I know only from a single image in a book. Even though I examined them, I could not, alas, carry them home to my studio and, in the end, could only refer to them in photographs. There are many modern models of VOC vessels around, but I did not pursue them for two reasons. First, they would have been based on the same primary information I had found, and I prefer to draw my own conclusions. Second, they, like most models, are designed to be models of ships, and my job was to mimic contemporary models. Figure 21. Valkenisse from the port quarter in early 1999, before any work was done. Notice the continuation of the garboard across the sternpost, the related thicknessing on the rudder, and the diagonally planked square tuck. Compare this recent view with the 1920’s-era Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16) and see that the open rail has been added above the side, the white paint on the topside planking adjacent to the gunports has been removed, the remaining portion of the name-date banner has a white field, window mullions have been added, and the large female figure has been added to the quarter. (Photograph by Christopher Morrison)

Because the Valkenisse project is wrapped in the passage of time, we will review the models chronologically. However, the chronology may be suspect because some models had approximate dates, some had anachronisms that made them difficult to date, and some had dates I only esstimated. I have inserted unidentified models, or models lacking specific names or dates, as well as I could.

Prins Willem, 1651 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam This model represents a vessel of 1651 belonging to the Zeeland Chamber of the VOC and must be included because of its age. However, the vessel’s phsysical characteristics dated from nearly seventy years, or perhaps something analogous to a couple of generations of ship development, prior to Valkenisse, so she was really too early to be significant in this study. Photographs of the model may be found in Culver and Nance.

Valkenisse, 1717 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston The model is positively identified with the 160-foot, 1,150ton VOC retourschip of 1717 also operated by the Zeeland Chamber. Ironically, our subject was the earliest example in the group of models that could be clustered for comparison and study. Earliest mention of the model in the literature seems to have been the note Collins wrote to The Mariner’s Mirror in 1923, but the first images appeared in 1931, after she had become resident in the MFA, but before she was accessioned in 1932. The photos accompanied a brief article about the MFA models by H.I. Chapelle in The Mariner.20 They show her in a state that may be considered identical to that shown in McLananthan’s Ship Models in 1957, and there she is, in turn, all but identical to how she appeared when we started working with her in the early 1990s. In other words, nothing significant seems to have been done to the model from the time Collins sold it to Coolidge in 1928 and the 1990s (Figure 21). Much has been written about Valkenisse’s scale, and we will look into this subject in the next section.

RESEARCH SOURCES É 29

Figure 22, above. Bataviase Eeuw with anachronistic fittings dating from the nineteenth century. (Negative No. 1742, courtesy National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh) Figure 23, right. Bataviase Eeuw rerigged after reconditioning by R.C. Anderson in 1931. (Negative No. 10730, courtesy National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh)

Bataviase Eeuw, 1719 National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh VOC lists contained no mention of a vessel named Bataviase Eeuw, or Batavian Century. However, this model bears such a startling resemblance to Valkenisse that it must be considered seriously. The model was purchased at auction by the National Museums of Scotland in 1882 for £4:10s. Soon after, it underwent museum workshop “repairs” which included the installation of new lower deck gunport lids, a quarterdeck capstan, a double steering wheel connected to the whipstaff, a skylight-companionway on the poop, and new lower standing rigging (Figure 22). While researching VOC models in about 1930, R.C. Anderson noticed some of these “anomalies” and “offered to remove them and rerig the model, which he did in early 1931.” See Figure 23. Anderson reported the scale as 1:27.5 or 2.5 Amsterdam feet to 1 Amsterdam inch. Lars Bruzelius placed the scale at 1:32. Anderson converted the scale to a vessel length of 142.5 feet but had difficulty determining if she was “a large 130-footer or a short 145-footer.” I would say the latter. Detail work on Bataviase Eeuw is somewhat more refined than that on Valkenisse. Having not viewed Bataviase Eeuw personally, I depended on my colleague Sid Siegel who reported that it exhibited a “uniformly high level of workmanship.”21 I obtained from the accommodating Scottish museum a set of photos of the model, with some clearly showing the “anomalies” and the others Anderson’s completed refit. Anderson’s rigging work closely matches his descriptions for Dutch vessels with sprit topmasts in his book The Rigging of Ships.

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Unidentified, about 1720 The Danish Maritime Museum, Elsinore

Figure 24. The unidentified model in The Danish Maritime Musem, Elsinore. (Thanks to Lars Bruzelius)

I learned about this relic from Lars Bruzelius. An unrigged and deteriorated hulk (Figure 24), it has several characteristics which are nearly identical to Valkenisse. These include the run of the planking beneath the lower berghout, or wale; the shape of the stem, although the knee-of-the-head is missing; and the bluff bows. Hoving said he didn’t think this was a retourschip because of the planking, and Rozendaal noted the channels were above the main deck gunports. The resemblance in structure was, however, too strong to overlook. Rozendaal speculated the model represents a 160-foot retourschip and was built at the scale of 1:33. The one image I have of the model was provided by Bruzelius via e-mail.22 With nothing extant above the rahout, or main rail, and much else in ruins, the model was of limited use.

Unidentified, about 1720 Zuiderzeemuseum, Enkhuizen Purported to be a model of an East Indiaman, this full-hull, plank-on-frame, rigged example seemed to be somewhat too narrow and fine lined (Figures 25 and 26). However, its square tuck, sprit topmast, deck arrangement, and many other features certainly nudge her into the VOC mold. The rigging appears old and not too heavy. Altogether it

Figures 25, above, and Figure 26, right. The unidentified model at the Zuiderzeemuseum is rigged with a sprit topmast and has its topsails and topgallants fartheled. In fartheling, as much of the sail as possible is gathered in a vertical bunt beneath the center of the yard, directly ahead of the mast doublings. (Right: inventory No. 7639; both courtesy Collection Zuiderzeemuseum, Enkhuizen, the Netherlands)

RESEARCH SOURCES É 31 was a useful source. The museum provided a fine large color photograph and generously let me make images of my own in its gallery, which was in an actual VOC warehouse of the Enkhuizen Chamber; I believe cloves were still lodged between the floor boards.

Oostrust, 1721 National Maritime Museum, Antwerp The 1,140-ton vessel of the 160-foot class hailed from the Amsterdam Chamber of the VOC. Starting in 1722, she made seven round trips to the East, and was

Figure 27. Oostrust has a sprit topmast and a square tuck. (AS-58-78, courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp)

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Figure 28, above. The name and date banner does not blend well with other details on the stern. (AS-58-78, courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp) Figure 29, right top. The lion figurehead and other bow details. (Courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp) Figure 30, right below. Rigging components are complex, crowded, and dark. (Courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp) Figure 31, below. Looking forward at the break of the forecastle and the belfry. (AS-58-78, courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp)

lost outbound during the eighth in 1739. In 1933, Anderson reported that this full-hull, rigged model (Figures 27 to 31) belonged “to Madame Kostio de War of Paris and was previously in the possession of her uncle, an Antwerp shipowner.” But about two years later, Anderson learned that the name and date had been applied to the model (Figure 28) only after he had published an article on similar models. “Before that,” he wrote, “the model had a painted name, ‘La Sophie d’Amsterdam.’” I found no listing for a VOC vessel of that name in Dutch-Asiatic Shipping. Anderson still felt the model was “apparently a genuine contemporary model of a Dutch East India-man of the early part of the eighteenth century” but that there was “no authority whatever for ascribing any particular name” to her. Despite the identity crisis, the model went on display in Belgium’s National Maritime Museum in the Steen, Antwerp, identified as Oostrust, and I saw her there in 1996. Regardless of the model’s lineage, Anderson suggested that, if her rigging was contemporary, the model represented the era near the end of the actual Oostrust’s life because it exhibits later practices, such as the “half-mizen, the foretack bumpkins, and the jibboom.” The Antwerp museum labeled the scale as 1:36, but Bruzelius gauged it at about 1:33. Of the three East Indiamen models in the Antwerp museum, this was easily the finest and most credible. After an exchange of several letters, I acquired a set of black-and-white glossy photographs from the museum. I also had several 35-millimeter slides taken by my colleague Eugene L. Larson and myself. I found images of Oostrust in two publications of the Antwerp museum.23

RESEARCH SOURCES É 33

Padmos/Blydorp, 1722 Maritiem Museum Rotterdam The stern of this model bears two names. The first, Padmos, is above the upper row of windows and the second, Blydorp, is in a cartouche between the two rows of windows (Figures 32 to 36). Thus, the model represents two vessels. A VOC vessel named Patmos, an acceptable alternate spelling of Padmos, began operations in 1723. The company operated two vessels named Blijdorp, alternately Blydorp; the first started operations in 1724, the second in 1755. Because there is but one year separating their dates and because of many physical details, I concluded the model represents Patmos and the earlier Blijdorp. Patmos made eight round trips to Asia. In all, she sailed for five VOC Chambers: Rotterdam, Hoorn, Zeeland, Delft, and Amsterdam. She was lost during her ninth voyage, outbound, in 1746 at the age of 23 years. The shorter-lived Blijdorp sailed for the Rotterdam and Amsterdam Chambers from early 1724 until 1733 when she foundered outbound at the Cape Verde Islands on her fourth passage. Although mentioned as sisters, Patmos measured 810 tons and Blijdorp was listed at 900 tons. Both were of the 145-foot class. This wellknown model was one of the two recommended in 1923 by G.C.E. Crone to Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., as a reference for his work on Valkenisse, and she has freFigure 33, left. The two names, Padmos and Blydorp, can be made out on the stern. (From Koester, Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries, pl. 38, courtesy Maritiem Museum Rotterdam). Figure 34, right. Showing the colors of the stern. The shape and arrangement of the stern and its decorative components are similar to those on Valkenisse. (Courtesy Maritiem Museum Rotterdam)

Figure 35, left. The galley smokehead can be seen to port of the mast. (From Edwards, Het Wrak of het Halve Maan’s Rif, pl. 6, courtesy Maritiem Museum, Rotterdam) Figure 36, right. The lion figurehead and sprit yard. At present, the model is installed in a quayside diorama with the upper hull visible above the surface of the artifical water. (Courtesy Maritiem Museum Rotterdam)

Figure 32. Padmos/Blydorp. (From Koester, Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries, pl. 38, courtesy Maritiem Museum Rotterdam)

34 É RESEARCH SOURCES

* To distinguish two sources involving vessels of this name, see the note on page 23. Figure 37. Seven Provinces has a sprit topmast and a square tuck. (A6126, copyright National Maritime Museum, London)

quented the literature ever since. She appeared in 1930 and 1932 in Anderson’s Mariner’s Mirror discussion of VOC models, in Koester, and in Chatterton. Anderson calibrated the model’s scale as a third of a Rhineland inch to one Rhineland foot and Bruzelius put it at 1:33.24 However, more on various measuring systems when we discuss scale. Although I obtained permission, the model could be photographed only incompletely and awkwardly behind a tinted glass protector in its museum gallery in Rotterdam, so I relied on images in books.

Zeven Provincien, or Seven Provinces,* 1723 National Maritime Museum, London

Figure 38, below. Jonge Jacob has a sprit topmast. (AS-26-7-1, courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp) Figure 39, below right. The red and gold stern. (Courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp)

Bruzelius doubted there was a VOC ship with this name, and it does not appear in Dutch-Asiatic Shipping. I suspect this nationalistic Dutch name was not applied by the VOC because it was reserved for several Dutch naval vessels. When Anderson wrote about VOC models in 1932, the model was in the Spence Collection in Britain. It was presented to the National Maritime Museum by R. Spence in 1944. Anderson noted that the model lacks the galley gap in the gunport spacing, but did not think that disqualified her as a VOC ship. However, I had my doubts: I do not the think the model is of a VOC vessel. The bows show an entry much finer than any other VOC model (Figure 37), a trait more likely found in a warship built for faster sailing than a capacious East Indiaman. According to Bruzelius, the model has modern rigging. I observed that it follows Anderson’s scheme in The Rigging of Ships so precisely, as does Bataviase Eeuw’s rigging, that Anderson may have done the job. Bruzelius states the scale as 1:33 and Anderson makes it at 1/ 3 inch to 1 foot. Images of the model were published by Anderson and in Waite’s catalog.25 I procured three small black-and-white prints from the museum.

Jonge Jacob, 1724 National Maritime Museum, Antwerp The only VOC vessel named Jonge Jacob was a 684-ton hoeker chartered by the Amsterdam Chamber from 1784 until 1791. Such late dates are difficult to resolve with a model fitted with a square tuck and a sprit topmast (Figures 38 and 39), features that had all but evolved to extinction by 1725 or so. However, the VOC was not the only

RESEARCH SOURCES É 35 organization trading between the Low Countries and the Far East. During the 1720s and 1730s, an outfit of debatable legitimacy called the Oostendse Compagnie, or the Ostend East India Company, was operating in what was then the Austrian Netherlands and is now part of Belgium. Evidently, the company acquired about two dozen vessels in the mid-1720s. I have not located a vessel roster, but this model of Jonge Jacob has been identified as an Ostend Company ship, and its stern displays the Austrian coat of arms. The model has been gauged at 1:40 scale.26 In all respects she resembles VOC vessels. She was built in the same area and engaged in the same trade. So, why not employ her as a source for Valkenisse?

Unidentified, about 1725 Institut für Meereskunde, Berlin Koester thought this model dated from about 1710. She has a sprit topmast. However, becasue she has gangways just above the bulwarks connecting the forecastle and the quarterdeck, I had to adjust the date to as late as possible. I guessed about 1725. While the model is poorly proportioned and inelegantly crafted, many of its components are reasonably accurate in terms of number and placement. I had only the single image of the model in Koester to work from (Figure 40).27

den Ary, 1725 National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam This model (Figures 41 to 46) does not seem to have a specific VOC prototype, either. However, the model has been associated with the company for decades in many different publications. Although the stern has the old Dutch square tuck, there is no sprit topmast. Anderson calculated her scale at 2/ 5 inch of an 11-inch foot to the foot, and Bruzelius said 1:30. Through scale conversion, Anderson determined the model represents a vessel 172 feet long and called her a “super-160-footer.” The model is large and elegant. Blocks, deadeyes, and other rigging hardware are gilt throughout, but the rigging seems too lightweight somehow for the size and power of the model. Perhaps this is an illusion generated by the fact that smaller VOC models have quite heavy rigging that couldn’t possibly be accurately sized. Den Ary was the other model recommended in 1923 by Crone to Collins as a reference for work on Valkenisse.28 Images of den Ary have appeared in Koester, Nance, Chatterton, Cannenburg, and elsewhere. I worked with 35-millimeter slides and black-andwhite images that I took of the model with museum staff permission, and with a set of

Figure 40, above. The unidentified model at the Institut für Meereskunde, Berlin. (From Koester, Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries, pl. 36) Figure 41, below. One of the few overall images of the large model of den Ary. (From Koester, Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries, pl. 40, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam)

36 É RESEARCH SOURCES small but fine black-and-white prints that were provided by the museum. Interestingly, I believe the only photograph that shows the entire model is in Koester. No others show the entire model or much of anything above the tops.

Figure 42, top left. Den Ary’s stern is much like Valkenisse’s in Figure 21, page 28. Compare the diagonally planked square tuck, the garboard thicknessing continued on the rudder, and the shapes and arrangements of all moldings and windows. (A149(1)d, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam) Figure 43, center left. Red rails are accented with gilded moldings, carvings, deadeyes, and blocks. (Courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam) Figure 44, center right. Important features are the stepped rails near the main rigging, the quarterdeck railing around the mainmast, the galley smokehead, and the hatch boards on deck. (A149(1)f, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam) Figure 45, bottom left. Notice the belfry on the forward side of the forecastle margin, the forecastle accommodation ladders, and the hals klamp, or main tack fairlead, in the bulwark. (A149(1)l, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam) Figure 46, bottom right. Den Ary has a human figurehead, apparently a woman and child, and a single gammoning framed like Valkenisse’s. Other similarities include the cathead and its supporting sculpture, the bobstay, and the low beakhead bulkhead. (A149(1)b, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam)

RESEARCH SOURCES É 37

Unidentified, mid-1700s Maritiem Museum Rotterdam With its round tuck and lack of sprit topmast, this nameless model had to be dated after about 1725, at the earliest. It was useful because it reinforced the general trends of configuration and rigging for VOC vessels. I made my own photos of it in the museum’s storage facility (Figure 47), but space was constricted, so I have no overall views.

Unidentified, about 1740 National Martime Museum, Amsterdam

Figure 47. The figurehead and bows of the unidentified model of an East Indiaman. (Courtesy Maritiem Museum Rotterdam)

This model’s square tuck might restrict its date to 1725 or before. However, the absence of a sprit topmast and the long lengths of the topsail and topgallant yards relative to those beneath indicate far more modern sparring. Additionally, the foremast and mainmast were rigged to the royals, and the mizzenmast to the topgallant, which was unusual in East Indiamen. I wonder if this was an older model refitted with a more modern rig. Further, I wonder about its present location as I did not encounter it in any sources except Nance’s book.29 Perhaps since 1924 the model has been identified with more certainty.

d’ Gerechtigheid (II), 1742 National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam Three vessels named Gerechtigheid, or Justice, sailed for the VOC. They began their respective careers in 1666, 1743, and 1783. Many of this model’s physical characteristics made it easy to align the model with the middle date and the second VOC Gerechtigheid (Figures 48 and 49). An 880-ton vessel, she operated from 1743 until 1758 and made five and a half round trips to the East for, in turn, the Chambers in Enkhuizen, Zeeland, Delft, and Hoorn. Figure 48, right. D’ Gerechtigheid has a round stern and no sprit topmast. (From Jacobs, In Pursuit of Pepper and Tea, p. 28, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam). Figure 49, below. The forward end of the quarterdeck showing the ladders and athwartship beam. (Courtesy National Martime Museum, Amsterdam)

38 É RESEARCH SOURCES Anderson did not seem to know about this model. Bruzelius includes it in his list of eighteenth-century East India ships and mentions she was a 136-foot vessel.30 The model is small and does not appear to be completely to scale. The poop deck lifts off to reveal the arrangement of the schipperskamer, or captain’s cabin, which is complete with the figure of a captain, and other spaces beneath. I visited and photographed the model in storage at the museum in Amsterdam. The museum also provided me with a set of excellent black-and-white images.

Mercurius, 1747 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

Figure 50, top. Mercurius mounted in a “sea” with her sails set. Notice the combined main and mizzen channel. (From Koester, Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries, pl. 73, courtesy Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam) Figure 51, above. Mercurius in a later image showing her bottom and the sails partially furled. (From Marsden, The Wreck of the AMSTERDAM, pl. 2, courtesy Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam) Figure 52, below. De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia seems shorter and taller than other VOC models. (From Nance, Sailing-Ship Models a Selection from European and American Collections, pl. 86, courtesy Maritiem Museum Rotterdam)

Bruzelius lists this model (Figures 50 and 51), but found, as I did in Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, that the VOC does not seem to have operated a vessel with this name. Bruzelius suggested that it was “built in Middleburg [sic]to be placed in the Oost Indisch Huis as a decorative model,” and that, “it remained there neglected until 1849 when it was transferred to the Department van Marine and repaired in Rotterdam by P. van der Loo. This model was included in the model exhibition in Delft in 1863.” Thus, the Mercurius model in Rijksmuseum has been associated with the VOC for a long time. It was Mercurius that Collins asked about in his first 1923 Mariner’s Mirror query, so he already knew of the model. As we have seen, Crone counseled Collins to avoid it. Bruzelius said the model has sails dating from about 1780. Having not seen this model, I only know it through its appearances in Chatterton, Koester, and, in color, in Marsden.31

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia, mid-1700s Maritiem Museum Rotterdam There are no records in Dutch-Asiatic Shipping for a vessel with this name or much of anything close to it. Nonetheless, the model was identified as a VOC ship by Nance and Bowen, in whose books are published the only images I have of her (Figure 52).32 She had no sprit topmast, but neither her tuck nor helm were visible in the image, so dating more specifically than “mid1700s” is a problem. The model was only slightly useful in the project.

RESEARCH SOURCES É 39

Bleiswijk, 1758 Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht Three VOC ships were named Bleiswijk. They dated from 1632, 1662, and 1758. According to Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, the first sailed to Batavia once and remained there. On her maiden voyage, the second made it as far home as St. Helena, but then returned to Batavia where she was sold in 1674. Both these ships went out from the Rotterdam Chamber. The third went from Delft, operated from 1758 until 1774, and made five-and-a-half round trips to the East.33 The model (Figures 53 to 55) resides in the Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home in Dordrecht, which has associated it with the third vessel of the three, but the presence of a sprit topmast makes this late relationship questionable. Other indicators, such as wheel steering and a round tuck date the model to the second quarter of the eighteenth century, at the earliest. The fore and main yards are a-cockbill to render the complex and Figure 53, right. Bleiswijk has a sprit topmast and other features characteristic of an older vessel. Her yards are a-cockbill to fit in a narrow case, and her topsails are fartheled. (Courtesy Collection Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, the Netherlands) Figure 54, below. The stern is brightly painted and gilded, but the black and white name banner has no date. (Courtesy Collection Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, the Netherlands) Figure 55, bottom. The heavy crossed collars for the mainstay and main preventer stay, their splices, and other rigging details at the bow. Notice density of the rigging and the very low beakhead bulkhead. (Courtesy Collection Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, the Netherlands)

40 É RESEARCH SOURCES engaging model considerably narrower for housing in its glazed case. I made many 35-millimeter slides and black-and-white negatives of the model. Although in-house photographic services were shut down because of a museum overhaul, Roel H. Rozendaal of Rotterdam graciously procured prints for me from their negatives. É There were two other VOC models I had learned about through the literature, but which I never tracked down. These include Principe da Beira, an undated example about which R.C. Anderson wrote in 1930 that, although it had an unlikely name and had burned some years before, there was “no doubt whatever” it represented a Dutch-built ship.”34 Bruzelius mentioned an unrigged model in the Amsterdam Historische Museum of a Dutch East Indiaman in a kameel, or camel, a device for lifting vessels over shoals.35 I am sure there were others, as well, but one has to draw the line somewhere. In the above recitation of models, I occassionally mentioned that I took my own photographs in museums. In no event was this done casually or as a walk-in visitor. In each museum, I had an appointment with a curator or conservator to whom I explained the nature of my project and the need for detailed images. Generally the staff member either accompanied me while I made photos or gave me a written permission chit that I could show to guards. I shot about half a roll of black-and-white film and half a roll of color slides of each model by alternating film types through a single camera. I also acquired photographs from museums. In every case images were reproduced photographically, not digitally, and were of good to very high quality. Without exception, transactions were pleasantly and professionally handled. Only once did I have to inquire gently if my order had been forgotten. This does not mean, however, that obtaining images is fast, easy, or inexpensive. Generally, several exchanges of correspondence were required with each museum. Without making an exact tally, I estimate I wrote forty letters or e-mails to purchase images from eight sources. It was necessary to discover if the museum had images it could provide copies of, or if new photography was required; if there was a single image of a model or a broad selection available; if the latter, then if I could get cheap xerographic proofs first so I could select which I wanted; if ordering could be handled by telephone, regular mail, or e-mail; and if payment could be made by credit card, check, or cash. Some institutions sent pictures directly and enclosed a simple invoice; others required a complex purchase order. In a single case, photo services were so expensive that I did not purchase any. When possible, I used my credit card because it was fastest, incurred no commissions for currency exchange, and kept exchange rates minimal because exchange occurs entirely within the bank offering the card. These days, checks in foreign currency are expensive to purchase at American banks. Fees at, say, $25 per check, are simply not worth paying unless a purchase is large. I learned that, despite all contrary warnings, it was reasonably safe to send cash via registered mail traveling in safe pouches. For a nominal fee, I purchased guilders, Belgian francs, or pounds sterling at my local bank. Then I posted it in a registered letter; I have done so often with no loss. É

RESEARCH SOURCES É 41

Notes 1

Grant Walker, interview with author, 26 May 1999.

Albert Hoving, e-mail to author, 29 September 2003; and Lars Bruzelius, “A Bibliography of Books on Naval Architecture Rigging and Seamanship Printed 1600-1919,” unpublished manuscript, Upsala, Sweden, 1992, p. 12.

Albert Hoving, Nicolaes Witsens Scheep-Bouw-Konst Open Gestelt (Franeker, the Netherlands: Uitgeverij van Wijnen, 1994); ———, e-mails to author, 20 January 1997 and 25 March 1999.

Cornelis van Yk, De Nederlandsche Scheeps-Bouwer-Konst Open Gestelt (Dordrecht: Museum Mr. S. van Gijn, undated). “Yk” is prounced like “like” without the l. Van Yk’s title was, no doubt, the source for Hoving’s tongue-in-cheek title for his interpretation of Witsen’s opaque work.

Jerzy Gawronski, Bas Kist, and Odilia Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, HOLLANDIA Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers b.v., 1992), reviewed by Rob Napier, Nautical Research Journal 38:4 (December 1993), pp. 264-265.

G.C. Dik, DE ZEVEN PROVINCIËN (Franken, the Netherlands: Uitgeverij Van Wijnen, 1993), only in Dutch. This vessel’s name appears in the literature with many spellings in both English and Dutch.

Ab Hoving and Cor Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman (Hilversum, The Netherlands: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2000).

Dutch-English English-Dutch Dictionary with a Brief Introduction to Grammar (New York: Hippocrene Books, 1992).

See Bibliography for full citation.

10 R.C. Anderson, The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (Salem, Massachusetts: Marine Research Society, 1927); ———, (Centreville, Maryland: Cornell Maritime Press, 1982); and ———, Seveteenth-Century Rigging a Handbook for ModelMakers (Seventeenth-Century Rigging a Handbook for Model-Makers (Hemel Hempstead: Model & Allied Publications Ltd., 1972). 11 R. Morton Nance, Sailing-Ship Models a Selection from European and American Collections (London: Halton and Truscott Smith, Ltd., 1924), p. viii; ———, Classic Sailing-Ship Models in Photographs (Mineola, New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2000); Charles O. McDonald, “Sailing Ship Technology: Some Bibliographical and Book Collecting Notes for Ship Modelers, Marine Artists, Historians and Others, Part III,” Nautical Research Journal 27:2, p. 78. 12 Henry B. Culver, Contemporary Scale Models of Vessels of the Seventeenth Century (New York: Payson & Clarke Ltd., 1926). 13 See Bibliography for full citations. 14 See Bibliography for full citations. 15 Issued in two editions by the United States Naval Academy Museum: Catalogue of the Henry Huddleston Rogers Collection of Ship Models (Annapolis: United States Naval Institute, 1954; and The Henry Huddleston Rogers Collection of Ship Models (Annapolis, Naval Institute Press, 1971). 16 Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957), p. 3. 17 Anderson, Seventeenth-Century Rigging a Handbook for Model-Makers (Hemel Hempstead: Model & Allied Publications Ltd., 1972). This work deals with an earlier period than Valkenisse and is not to be confused with Anderson’s The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720. 18 See Bibliography for full citations. 19 See Bibliography for full citation.

42 É RESEARCH SOURCES 20 H.I. Chapelle, “Model Room Boston Museum of Fine Arts,” The Mariner V:3 (July 1931), pp. 69, 70. 21 John Crompton, Curator of Engineering and Industry, Royal Museum of Scotland, e-mail to author, 29 July 1999; Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” unpublished manuscript, 16 August 1992, p. 48; Anderson, “Models of Dutch East- Indiamen, 1716-1725,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVIII (1932), p. 164; and Sidney I. Siegel, letter to author, 13 March 1999. 22 Hoving, e-mail to author, 14 December 2000; Roel H. Rozendall, letter to author, 20 January 2001; and Brazelius, e-mail to author, 21 November 2000. 23 J.R. Bruijn, F.S. Gaastra, and I. Schöffer, Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries, Rks Geschiedkundige Publicatiën, Grote Serie 165 (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1987), multiple entries; Anderson, “Another Model of a Dutch East-Indiaman,” The Mariner’s Mirror, XIX (1933), pp. 343-344; ———, “The ‘Oostrust’ Model,” The Mariner’s Mirror, XXI (1935), p. 206; Alex de Vos, The National Maritime Museum Antwerp (no place: Musea Nostra, no date), p. 43; ———, Het National Scheepvaart Museum (Antwerp, 1975); and Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” p. 54. 24 Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, multiple entries; Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” pp. 162, 164; G.C.E. Crone, “Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 154; Koester, Ship Models, pls. 37, 38; Chatterton, Ship Models; and Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” pp. 54, 55. 25 Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” p. 55; www.vocsite.nl/schepen/lijst, visited 17 September 2003; Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” pp. 162, 163, 165, pl. III; and Waite, Catalogue of Ship Models. 26 Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, multiple entries; www.swaen.com/ostend.html, visited 17 September 2003; and de Vos, The National Maritime Museum Antwerp, p. 26. 27 Koester, Ship Models, pl. 36. 28 Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” pp. 162-164; Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” p. 55; and Crone, “Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” p. 154. 29 Nance, Sailing-Ship Models, pl. 80. 30 Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, multiple entries; and Bruzelius, “Models of 18th Century East India Ships,” www/Nautica/Shipmodels/VOC, visited 24 March 1999. 31 Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” p. 77; Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., “Queries, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 96; and Peter Marsden, The Wreck of the AMSTERDAM (London: Hutchinson Publishing Group, 1985). 32 Nance, Sailing-Ship Models, pl. 86; and Bowen, From Carrack to Clipper. 33 Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, multiple entries. 34 Anderson, “Models of Dutch East Indiamen and Other Matters,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVI, (January 1930), p. 88. 35 Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” p. 72.

Part 4 THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES The first questions people ask about a ship model are almost always: How big is it? and What scale is it? For readers who just want to know the answers for the Valkenisse model, I will tell you now the model was about 1.75 meters long, exclusive of the rig, and was built to the scale of 1:29.33. But this doesn’t tell you much. Determining the Valkenisse’s true scale was a major challenge. Knowing scale is not always necessary to repair a model, because repair work can be proportioned frequently from existing components. However, to replace parts of questionable configuration or that are missing altogether, it is essential to learn the size of the original ship and the scale of the model. Determining these for Valkenisse would have been short work had a few important ratios fallen into place. This happened, but much more slowly than I expected. To understand the following discussion, we must clarify how three different measurement methods related to one another. The first system used for its principal unit the arcane and now obsolete Amsterdamse voet, or ship-foot. The second, the metric system, uses the meter. The third, the English or Imperial system, uses the English foot. The last two are still employed today. Several measuring systems were used in the Netherlands in the seventeenth century. My understanding is that this diversity was not uncommon in Europe then, especially in regions that did not have a strong central government to regulate such things. We are indebted to Cornelis van Yk for making, labeling, and publishing in 1697 an engraving of ten early scales so they could be compared side by side (Figure 56). He indicated on each its geographic affiliation and that the basic unit was, in Dutch, a voet, or foot. The subdivision of a voet was a duim, literally a thumb.* Van Yk’s sample voeten were significantly different in length and were variously subdivided into five, six, ten, eleven, or twelve duimen.1 Which if any of these rules was used to build Valkenisse? The answer lay in the integrating nature of the VOC itself. The Heeren Zeventien realized sensibly

* “Voet” and “duim” have direct translations in English, but their use in Dutch is preserved in this text to distinquish them from the English foot and inch. Figure 56. Detail of van Yk's illustration of several scales. The fifth down is the Amsterdamse voet divided into eleven duimen. (From from Cornelis van Yk, De Nederlansche ScheepsBouwer-Konst Open Gestelt, 1697)

44 É THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES that they could manage and regulate the company’s shipbuilding affairs more easily if a single measurement system was used in all its shipyards across the Netherlands. Because Amsterdam had by far the largest and most powerful VOC chamber, its measuring rule was adopted for use in all VOC shipyards.2 Thus, the Amsterdamse voet became the VOC standard. How long, exactly, was an Amsterdamse voet? On this sole point all the sources I consulted in this study agreed. An Amsterdamse voet was 28.3 centimeters in length. Regrettably, I do not know how or when the VOC calibrated the voet in the metric system. The metric system was invented late in the seventeenth century; its adoption was ongoing in some European locales before the demise of the VOC in the last years of the eighteenth century. Thus, it seems likely the company itself defined its voet in metric terms.3 Van Yk’s engraving shows the Amsterdamse voet divided into the unlikely and geometrically awkward quantity of eleven duimen, thus, each duim was 2.57 centimeters long. See Figure 57.

1 Amsterdamse Duim = 2.57 centimeters 5

28.3 centimeters

Figure 57. A scale comparison of the Amsterdamse voet, the metric system, and the English foot. The red arrows show how close the Amsterdamse duim and the English inch are to being the same.

11 English Inches = 27.9 centimeters

1 English Inch = 2.54 centimeters 1

Amsterdamse Voet

Centimeters 30.5 centimeters

English Foot

Some researchers who studied Valkenisse recorded their findings in English feet and inches. However, it quickly became clear that the Valkenisse project would be easier if I worked with just two systems. One had to be Amsterdamse voeten, and it would be far easier if the other was the metric system. In fact, it was not necessary to apply the English measurement scheme to any aspect of the project. It was an interesting aside, though, to notice the relationship between an English foot and an Amsterdamse voet. Using the metric system as a comparator, an English foot is 30.5 centimeters long, and a twelfth of that, an inch, is 2.54 centimeters. An Amsterdamse voet was 28.3 centimeters, while an eleventh of that, a duim, was 2.57 centimeters. We find that English feet were 7.2 percent larger than their Amsterdam counterparts, but their subdivisions, the inch and the duim, differed by only 0.9 percent, less than one part in a hundred (Figure 57). In any measuring system, scales for model building can be expressed in one of two standard ways: ratios and fractions. Ratio scales are universal across measuring systems, but each fractional scale indicates a different value in each measurement system. In other words, ratios are comparable across measurement systems, but fractional scales are not. For instance, the ratio scale 1:24 tells us that a full-size article is 24 times larger than a model of it, whether the model is built to a metric scale, to a scale of English feet, to a scale of Amsterdamse voeten, or to a scale of Noah’s cubits. In the English system, the fractional equivalent to 1:24 is 1/2 inch equals 1 foot. This is only true because there are 24 half inches in a 12-inch English foot (12 x 2 = 24). But, in an 11-duim Amsterdamse voet, the

THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES É 45 scale duim equals 1 voet would be the equivalent to the ratio of 1:22 (11 x 2 = 22), and this is not the same thing. In the examples just shown, ratio and fractional scales are expressed conveniently with integers. But such is not always so, even within a given system. For instance, in the English system, the fractional scale 7/ 16 inch equals 1 foot converts to the ratio 1:27.428571428571..., and the ratio scale 1:33 converts and reduces to 9.0909.../ 25 inch equals 1 foot; translations across measuring systems in such scales are vexing, at best.

Dimensions of the Ship Discussions of the likely, accepted, or approximate dimensions for VOC retourschepen have appeared in many sources, both contemporary and modern. The most authoritative, certainly, was in van Yk’s 1697 book. For my purposes, the best overall modern analysis was in Dutch-Asiatic Shipping. However, Bas Kist’s contribution to The HOLLANDIA Compendium, an R.C. Anderson article in The Mariner’s Mirror, correspondence in 1930 between Anderson and Edwin J. Hipkiss of the MFA,4 and my correspondence with Ab Hoving all contributed. The dimensions of the three classes of early eighteenth-century VOC retourschepen were dictated and frequently altered by the Heeren Zeventien in their Resoluties, or Resolutions. In their Resolutions of 1697, the Heeren Zeventien decreed that henceforth the three classes of retourschepen would have lengths of 130, 145, and 160 voeten. To keep the scope of this study within manageable parameters, I have disregarded the 130-voet class as well as changes in all classes before and after Valkenisse’s immediate era of, say, 1697 to 1720. In 1697, the Heeren Zeventien mandated that ships of the 145-foot Table 2. class were to be 36 voeten 83/4 duimen Principal Dimensions of VOC Retourschepen. broad. The 160-voet ships were to be From Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries. an even 40 voeten broad. However, for Measurements are in Amsterdamse voeten and duimen. “commercial and technical reasons,” these changes were not actually impleLength to Length to 1697 Resolutions 1714 Resolutions Class Breadth Breadth mented until about 1714. But, by then, Ratio Ratio Length Breadth Length Breadth shipwrights had made known their 145 Voet 145' 36' 83/ 4" 1:3.941 145' 39' 1:3.718 desire to increase somewhat further the breadth of their vessels relative to 160 Voet 160' 40' 1:4 160' 42' 1:3.810 the length. Thus, in 1714 the Heeren Zeventien officially increased the beams for new construction. Vessels in the 145-voet class would be 39 voeten broad, and 160-voet ships would be 42 voeten broad.5 You can see in Table 2 that, for the 160-voet class, breadth increased by 2 voeten. More importantly, though, the length-to-breadth ratio decreased about 4.7 percent from 1:4 to 1:3.810. This no doubt provided a substantial increase in stability and cargo capacity. What, exactly, did “length” and “breadth” mean? Without knowing, it would have been impossible to compare a ship’s dimensions with a model’s. Let’s begin with length.

Length In van Yk, a large table itemizes the “voornaamste Scheeps-Deelen,” or principal parts of a ship. The first column is headed “Het Schip is lang over Steven.” This

Increase in Breadth 2' 21/ 4" 2'

46 É THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES translates as “The Ship is long over the Stems.” In Dutch shipbuilding parlance, the word for the stem is voorsteven and that for the sternpost is achtersteven, or forestem and afterstem. In other words, the words for the timbers, steven, are the same but are modified to distinguish between the one fitted at the bow and the one fitted at the stern. So, van Yk’s column heading could be translated as “The Ship is long over the stem and sternpost.” In Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, length is further defined as “from the outside of the stem to the back of the sternpost,” but, because the stem and sternpost raked, a controlling height is necessary and is defined as “at the level of the lower deck, the overloop,” or A-B in Figure 58. Another source suggests that length was

Figure 58. Reference points used by various sources for indicating retourschip length. A-E are heights of the lower deck at aft side of sternpost, fore side of stem, sternpost rabbet, stem rabbet, and fore side of the knee-of-the-head. K is the farthest forward extent of the knee-ofthe-head. AS is the aft surface of the sternpost at top, and VS is the fore face of the stem at top.

measured “between” stems, but this implies a different distance, C-D in Figure 58. It is not likely that “over Steven” was meant to extend to the forward side of the knee-of-the-head, A-E, or even K, in Figure 58, because the VOC generally launched its ships before installing this timber, a practice which rendered impossible its use as a feature for defining the vessel’s statistical length during building. See Figure 6, page 7, as well as van Yk’s title page (Figure 13, page 22), and the beautiful plate on launching vessels in Chapman.6 Which points should I measure? Solid clarification came from Hoving, who gained extensive experience by building models based on texts by van Yk and Witsen. “Imagine,” Hoving explained, A shipwright setting up the first parts of his ship: keel, stem and stern. In the specifications he can find the rake of both these last parts. [The] length of keel plus [the] rake of stem and stern [equals the] length of the ship. How would he measure whether his stem and stern are in the right position? By measuring the total length OVER THE TOPS of them. This length would have been 160 feet in the case of the largest rate and 145 feet in the case of the middle rate.

While Hoving agreed that there were others ways to measure ships, such as internally, he said that this practice referred to already existing ships only: if the tonnage of a ship had to be established (for instance for tolls) it was of course necessary to measure the ship. But because every part of the vessel was in its place already it was very hard to measure from outside stem to outside stern. So they measured the lower deck. . . . But

THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES É 47 the Resolutions of the Heeren Zeventien were instructions for shipwrights. So the measurements had to be done over the tops of the stem and stern.7

In Figure 58, this length is shown as AS-VS, or sternpost to stem. The distance is easy to understand when looking at a model under construction (Figure 59). In hindsight, it seemed odd that this distinction was not made in Dutch-Asiatic Shipping because other analysis therein seemed so thorough.

Breadth The second column in van Yk’s table was headed “Wijd, binnen de Huid.” Or, literally, “Wide, inside the skin.” This means van Yk intended that a vessel’s breadth was measured to what we today call the inside of plank. This is a far more useful datum for defining the shape of a hull that has yet to be built than the breadth to the outside of plank. Hoving agreed; “The beam of the ship was measured inside planking: when [the shipwright] was erecting his main frame there was nothing else he could possibly measure, as heights of decks . . . were not visible nor on the frame, nor on stem and stern.”8 Generally and conveniently, from the shipbuilder’s view, the point of maximum breadth was at about the height of the lower deck for most of the length of vessels like early eighteenthcentury retourschepen. Measuring to the inside of plank takes the guess work out of deciding whether, if breadth were gauged outside, to measure over the regular plank, the wales, or, perhaps, even the channels. Sometimes it is awkward to measure breadth to the inside of plank on a finished model. To do so, it’s convenient to be able to open gunports. Fortunately, we could do so on the model of Valkenisse.

Calculations I measured the distance “lang over Steven” as described by van Yk, explained by Hoving, and shown as AS-VS in Figure 58. It was 155.5 centimeters. I measured the breadth of the model at its widest point, inside the planking. It was 41.45 centimeters. Ideally, according to the 1714 Resolutions, the vessel was 160 voeten long, 42 voeten in breadth, and had a length-to-breadth ratio of 1:3.81. How do we resolve scale from this information? I created and solved the following equation, in which x was the unknown scale ratio. 155.5 cm (x) ÷ 28.3 cm / voet = 160 voeten 155.5 (x) = 4528 x = 29.1 Could the scale really have been as peculiar as 1:29.1? To find out, I started working scales of an 11-duim Amsterdamse voet through various ratios. I had been thinking that, with the voet divided into 11 subunits, a modeler would like to work to ratios that were multiples of 11, like 1:22, 1:33, or 1:44. But, if the 155.5-centimeter model were to 1:22 scale, the ship would have been way too small and if the model were to 1:44 scale, the ship would have been way too large. This may sound contrary, but we modelers are used to sizing models from vessels, and this exercise simply reverses that thought process. Regardless, 1:33

Figure 59. It is easier to understand “lang over Steven,” or “length over stems,” when looking at a model of a vessel under construction because the tops of the stem and sternpost are not concealed by other features. The arrows indicate the length of this model being built skin-first by Ab Hoving of Abel Tasman’s 1642 fluyt Zeehaen. (From Hoving and Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman, p. 93, courtesy of the author)

48 É THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES was about in the middle and R.C. Anderson had suggested Valkenisse was built to 3/ 8 inch equals 1 foot scale,9 which in the English system is 1:32. However, in Amsterdamse voeten, 1:32 converted to a ship that was much larger than 160 voeten, so I assumed 1:33 would have the same problem and discarded it. The light switched on in my mind when I recalled that in van Yk, duimen were shown with fractions (Figure 60). Items were given with dimensions like 41/ 2 or 13/ 4 duimen. The fractions were always multiples of eighths. So, I realized that while the voet was divided differently than the English foot, the duim was divided fractionally, at least for shipbuilding purposes, just like an English inch. The smallest denominator I found was an eighth. Figure 60. A sample table from van Yk showing fractions in halves and quarters. (From from Cornelis van Yk, De Nederlansche Scheeps-BouwerKonst Open Gestelt, 1697)

Thus, a Dutch shipwright in 1717 could have employed a ruler whose largest units were Amsterdams voeten, each of which was divided into 11 duimen, as we know. But then each duim was divided into eighths, just like an inch on an English ruler. Our hypothetical VOC modelwright, upon receiving orders to build a model of Valkenisse, perhaps to fit a particular place in the Middelburg Chamber house, must have considered scale, unless he was planning a pronk-model, or a decorative model with “no constructional or scientific or historic claims.”10 But we knew he was more serious than that. He could have easily looked at his ruler and chosen three-eighths of a duim to represent an Amsterdase voet. This is the way model builders work. This scale worked out to the unlikely ratio of 1:29.33. Figure it thus: 11 duimen / voet x 8 = 88 eighths of a duim / voet 88 ÷ 3 = 29.33 Now the earlier 1:29.1 ratio doesn’t seem so improbable! However, while 1:29.1 rendered Valkenisse a model of a perfect 160-voet ship, it does not quite work out to a convenient fractional scale on that old Dutch shipbuilder’s ruler. If we accept the 3/ 8 duim equals 1 voet scale, or 1:29.33, we find the model represents a vessel that was 161.16 Amsterdamse voeten “lang over Steven.” Next, I worked the model’s measured breadth inside of plank, 41.45 centimeters, through the scale of 1:29.33 to determine the breadth of the vessel represented by the model. Would it be 42 voeten? Not exactly, but close. x voet = 41.45 cm (29.33) ÷ 28.3 cm / voet x voet = 1214.5 cm ÷ 28.3 cm / voet x voet = 42.95 voet At the scale of 1:29.33, the vessel works out to be 161.16 voeten in length and 42.95 voeten in breadth. These are errors of plus 0.7 percent for length and plus 2.2 percent for the breadth. As for the length-to-breadth ratio, for the 160voet class it was 1:3.81 (see Table 2), and for the model it worked out to be

THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES É 49 1:3.75, a discrepancy of minus 1.6 percent. Such discrepancies could be attributable to any number of environmental or traumatic vicissitudes in Valkenisse’s three-century life. Or, perhaps that old Dutch modelwright just got things a bit wrong. In other words, they seemed all but inconsequential. The model is slightly too large.

Conclusion In the end, I believe that Valkenisse is a model of 160-voet retourschip reasonably built to the fractional scale of 3/ 8 duim equals 1 Amsterdamse voet. I suspect the original modelwright never considered the scale as a ratio, so never had to deal with that awkward-sounding 1:29.33. When proposing my theory, I gently told Hoving, who, being European and having always worked metrically, that he might have difficulty understanding why anyone would use a scale like 3/ 8 duim equals 1 voet, while it was easy for people like me who have used the English system (backward as it may be) for most of our lives. He graciously replied that he was convinced and that, although he had “never seen a model with a fractional scale before,” my reasoning was “practical and plausible.”11 Incidentally, when we recall the tiny difference of 0.9 percent between the lengths of the English inch and the Amsterdam duim, it is easy to see that threeeighths of the 2.54-centimeter English inch and the 2.57-centimeter Amsterdam duim are very nearly the same length. In the English system, 3/ 8 inch equals 0.9525 centimeters and in the Amsterdam shipbuilding system, 3/ 8 duim equals 0.96375 centimeters, a difference of just 1.1 percent. In other words, 3/ 8 inch and 3/ 8 duim are so close in absolute terms, that it could almost be said both are equivalent to 1 voet, in the ratio scale 1:29.33.

The Shroud Problem There was another important non-mathematical aspect to consider. It involved the number of lower shrouds on the mainmast and foremast. The precise first thing Hoving asked me the morning we met at Schiphol Airport was, “How many deadeyes are there on the channels for the main lower shrouds?” If there were ten, the model was of a 160-voet retourschip. If there were only nine, the model was of a 145-voet vessel. The number for the fore rigging must be one less than for the main. Simple as that, the rule according to van Yk. Well, as photographs of the model made before 2000 clearly show, there were only nine main and eight fore deadeyes. For quite a while this convinced Hoving that the Valkenisse model represented a 145-voet retourschip, and over time he based several opinions on this statistic.12 Consequently, we both spent a good deal of effort trying to determine which class of vessel the model actually represented and how scales could be adapted to either size. We came to an impasse. There were just too many inconsistencies. By early 2001, I began seriously wondering if we had a pronk-model on our hands, a suggestion offered by Hoving and his associate Alan Lemmers five years earlier over a bottle of red wine in Hoving’s kitchen.13 What could be wrong? What had I overlooked? I was sure the scale was correct, but we could not reconcile the scale with the number of shrouds. I checked the rigging that came bundled with the model. There were nine shrouds per side for the mainmast and eight

50 É THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES for the fore; the rigging matched the number of deadeyes. Had I miscounted? I was pretty sure I could count all the way to ten. I counted and recounted. The main and fore channels were notched for nine and eight deadeye strops respectively. This time the light came on slowly. Several years earlier, I had identified the channels as among features that did not seem to be original on the model. They were made of newer wood; they were not worn or caked with multiple finishes. They were fastened to the hull with bright, modern, 11/ 4-inch finishing nails. Many, but not all of the deadeyes’ backing links were nailed to the hull. Because chainplates and backing links were arranged to follow the rakes of their shrouds, I knew where to look for missing evidence. I found impressions in the form of little partial crescent-shaped dents like new moons in the oaken topside plank around the nail holes. These were the clues (Figures 61 and 62). The backing links were, ironically, the missing links, as well. Figure 61, above. The area between the main and mizzen channels on the port side of the model. The evidence was strongest here but definitely present abaft the other main and fore channels. The marks in the circle tell the story. One is in the lower edge of the wale that holds the upper backing link bolts and the other is in the topside plank just below, in line with the lower backing link bolts. Figure 62, below, detail of Figure 61. The holes are in the white ellipse. The upper hole is open, but the lower one was filled, probably by the person who painted the gunport strakes of plank white (see the Culver photograph, Figure 12, page 16). Although the aftermost chainplate links in the channels are slack, the white line to the left shows the rake they will have when the shroud is set up taut. Another white line through the empty holes rakes identically. The lack of a tenth shroud strop slot in the channel is strong evidence that the channels are not original.

You must understand that this salty sea-dog of a model was crusted with old paint, pocked with old fastening sockets. The evidence was not obvious, but certainly there: four indentations for the missing backing links. They were at the same heights as the other backing link fastening holes, they were the same shape, and there was one at the appropriate distance abaft the ninth and eighth deadeyes on the main and fore channels on both sides. The dents embraced holes that had been filled in with putty and paint. Having found them, it was easy to realize that there had once been ten main and nine fore lower shrouds per sides; that the channels were definitely not original; that the main and fore lower shrouds, which had been made for the deadeyes actually on the model, were not original; and that, therefore, probably none of the rigging that had been stashed in the bundle for at least seventy years was original. Four little dents told the whole story. While no other contemporary model of a VOC vessel, regardless of class, has this many lower main shrouds, this is the number that should be on Valkenisse. Eureka! A question remains: Why did someone want to rerig the model with fewer shrouds? My guess is that, when the model was owned in England, the spread of the ten main and nine fore shrouds was considered excessive for a British vessel. After all, the tenth main shroud deadeye was almost abreast the mizzenmast.

THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES É 51

Other Paths The preceding tale of solving the riddle of Valkenisse’s scale implies that the events of discovery followed a linear path. But such was not the case. For the record, I will summarize a couple of other trails I followed that either petered out or led to abrupt dead ends.

A 145-Voet Vessel? One approach was to prove that the model was of a 145-voet vessel with the name of a 160-voet vessel applied to its stern for some unknown reason. We have seen, with the model of Oostrust, that there was precedent for this sort of behavior. When Hoving and I used 145 voeten for the AS-VS length “lang over Steven”(see Figure 58, page 46), we found we could make the Valkenisse model jump through the dimensional hoops of a vessel of that class. We found an almost perfect length-to-beam ratio of 1:3.72. This, along with our long-held initial belief that there were only nine main and eight fore lower shrouds propelled us toward thinking that, although we knew Valkenisse was a 160-voet vessel, the model may have been of a 145-voet ship and had Valkenisse’s name stuck on the stern.

Draft Marks Another route seemed obvious. Draft marks were incised in the model’s stem and sternpost below the waterline. The marks are in roman numerals, with dots replacing the upper case Is. On the ships, the roman numeral marks are about 51/ 2 duimen tall (this is half a voet, you understand) and spaced the same distance apart. Why could we not simply measure the draft marks to learn the scale? In fact, R.C. Anderson tried but was not happy with the results because, he said, they indicated a ship length of about 190 voeten, which was way off the trail. He quickly dismissed the marks, and so did I. Anderson wrote that “the only possibility is that the draught marks were put on wrongly.”14 Indeed, the marks were carved into stem and sternpost with little precision (Figure 63) and differ widely

Figure 63. Accuracy and consistency of draft marks are checked by aligning drawings of the bow and stern on the highest common draft mark, in this case XV•••• (shown in red), and measuring the distances to the bottom of the keel. Here they differ by about 2 scale feet, enough to suggest they were not intended to be meaningful. Heights between a pair of the same marks at bow and stern, X•• and XV••••, are also inconsistent. Heights of the external baseline (not shown here) and painted waterline (blue) are irrelevant in this exercise because they may be arbitrarily placed.

52 É THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES at bow and stern. To record this, I made direct rubbings with a No. 2 pencil on tracing paper and copied them on the outboard profile. At the stem, the span between the marks for 12 Amsterdamse voeten, X••, and 19 Amsterdamse voeten, XV••••, is 6.6 centimeters, while at the stern the same length is 6.9 centimeters. At the stem, the height of the XV•••• mark above the keel is 18.9 centimeters, while at the stern it is 16.8. The first discrepancy alone renders the marks worthless for determining scale. The second indicates the marks were added for atmosphere rather than documentation, pronk-model fashion. Anderson did not give up. He worked on the problem by mail from England in a continuing correspondence with Edwin J. Hipkiss, then the curator of the MFA’s Department of Decorative Arts. Anderson refined his requests for data on Valkenisse’s size. He judged the scale as 7/16 inch equals 1 foot, English measure. He asked Hipkiss for additional figures for the model’s breadth to the inside and outside of planking because he had found another VOC model in England that was “apparently several inches too wide,” but he did not identify the other model. A photograph he had acquired of Valkenisse was “taken as square to the camera as one could wish.” Using it, he labored to convert the figure Hipkiss had given him of 6 English feet for the model’s length into something meaningful. Anderson finally suggested that Hipkiss had made and read the measurement as “60"” but that he had transcribed it later as “6'0".” Amusingly, Hipkiss chided Anderson by confessing to the probable error and blaming it on working “by forced haste.” Using a length of 60 inches, or 5 feet, for the hull, Anderson concluded the scale was 3/8 inch to 1 foot, English measure, and the ship was “roughly” 160 feet long. All this led to Anderson’s 1932 article in The Mariner’s Mirror, in which he wisely used the metric system for a common ground to compare scales of contemporary VOC models. His salient point on the prototype Valkenisse was that she was almost “certainly built by the Amsterdam measure,” but felt that her model was “a trifle too big, particularly in beam.” He cited dimensions from the 1697 Resolutions and a much later change, in 1742, that included longer lengths. This demonstrated that he was almost certainly unaware of the small, but important, increase in beam dictated by the Heeren Zeventien in 1714. Anderson managed to arrive somehow at the correct figure for van Yk’s “lang over Steven” of 155.5 centimeters. This time he consulted Valkenisse’s forward draft marks, which were far more regularly spaced than the after ones, and determined that the scale was 3/8 duim to 1 Amsterdamse voet.15 He got the right answer, but we didn’t know how, and this forced us to reinvent his wheel.

É Other researchers have made statements about Valkenisse’s scale. In his 1957 catalog of the MFA ship models, Richard B.K. McLanathan simply stated Valkenisse’s scale as 1/2 inch equals 1 foot, but did not explain himself there or in the model’s MFA object file. Thirty-five years later, Maria Pulsone Woods and I stated that the ship was “of the 160-foot class” and that her scale worked out to “about” 3/8 inch equals 1 foot, but I assure you our analysis progressed no farther than to assume previous statements by Anderson and McLanathan were probably reasonable. Similarly, Lars Bruzelius recorded both Anderson’s later determination of 3/8 inch equals 1 foot and McLanathan’s 1/2 inch equals 1 foot, but favored neither opinion and did not distinguish between English and Amsterdam measuring systems. Hoving felt the model’s dimensions worked well at the ratio scale of 1:27 for a 145-voet retourschip and that they fit the 1714 Resolutions “perfectly,”16 but this was when we both still thought there were only nine main lower shrouds on each side.

THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES É 53

Paper Dolls I also employed an entirely analog method for testing scales: paper dolls. I made one figure for each scale that had been proposed by previous researchers. The figures could be moved easily around the model to see which looked at home in a very human way. The paper doll was based on a figure from contemporary Dutch art. I wanted him facing the viewer and standing upright, but in most examples, foregrounds are occupied by people looking into the scene, probably to add depth, or bending to a task. I found him in an etching by the early eighteenth-century Haarlem artist Jan van de Velde, who should not be confused with the more famous and earlier Willems. The man is conversing with another in an image entitled “Peat Boats by a River Bank” (Figure 64).17

Figure 64, top. Detail from the etching "Peat Boats by a River Bank" by early eighteenth-century Haarlem artist Jan van de Velde. (From De Groot and Vorstman, Sailing Ships, Prints by the Dutch Masters from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century, pl. 47, p. 276, courtesy Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam) Figure 65, center. The character reconstructed and sized to different scales. Figure 66, bottom. Finished and ready to go to work.

Millimeters

I scanned the figure at 300-dots-per-inch resolution, opened the image in Adobe Photoshop, and erased everything that was not part of the man. His height was exaggerated by a tall hat, which was undesirable because he would be used to judge the size of people, so I lowered the hat’s crown. The staff in his left hand would be fragile, so I moved it up, in front of his chest, and corrected it’s length to a scale meter. He was pointing toward the peat boat with his outstretched right arm, so I erased it, copied his left 80 arm, flipped it horizontally, 70 pasted it on his right shoulder, and created and placed a 60 square calibrated in Amster50 damse voeten in his right 40 hand (Figure 65).

1.75 meters

I gauged his height, 20 from his right foot’s sole to 10 the approximate location of the top of his head under 0 the hat, to 1.75 meters, Scale 1:32 Scale 1:29.3 Height of figure Height of figure which may be somewhat tall 54.7 millimeters 59.7 millimeters for an average early eighteenth-century person. In Quark Xpress, I opened the figure in a picture box, calibrated him to the five scales I was studying, then printed the document. With acrylics, I painted the men in somber Dutch sailor colors adapted from the 1698 painting Het VOC-schip Pieter en Paul op het IJ voor Amsterdam by A. Storck,18 pasted them to oaktag backing, cut them out, and reinforced them with small wooden brackets (Figure 66). You will see the men in pictures of the model, but the paper doll technique did not prove as useful here as it does when building a new model.

Scale 1:27.4

Scale 1:27

Scale 1:24

Height of figure 63.9 millimeters

Height of figure 64.8 millimeters

Height of figure 72.9 millimeters

54 É THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES É On another branch of my path, I hoped to trip over an answer by building a database. I entered the scales various researchers had suggested for the model and lengths taken from the model for many distances shown in Figure 58. I computed each length in every scale. The project organized a lot of data, but clearly showed that no scale I had encountered in previous research was the one I wanted. The database effort yielded a useful by-product. This was of a group of formulas essential for calculating model sizes for spars from van Yk’s book. I learned that to determine the prototype size for a model dimension, first multiply a length taken from the model in centimeters by the ratio of the scale to get the full size in centimeters, then divide the product by the number of centimeters in an Amsterdamse voet. Using the scale of 1:29.33 and the length of 155.5 centimeters taken off the model for “lang over Steven,” as an example: 155.5 cm on the model x 29.33 = 4560.82 cm 4560.82 cm ÷ 28.3 cm / voet = 161.16 voeten for the ship To expedite dozens of such calculations, I calculated a conversion factor as a tool for communicating quickly between metric figures and Amsterdamse voeten. To determine a conversion factor, divide a dimension on the model by the corresponding length in full-size Amsterdamse voeten: 155.5 cm on the model ÷ 161.16 voeten for the ship = 0.9649 To convert model dimensions to full size, divide the model dimension by the conversion factor: 155.5 cm on the model ÷ 0.9649 = 161.16 voeten for the ship Conversely, to convert a full-size ship dimension to the model size, multiply the ship size by the conversion factor: 161.16 voeten for the ship x 0.9649 = 155.5 cm on the model É

Notes 1

Cornelis van Yk, De Nederlandsche Scheeps-Bouwer-Konst Open Gestelt (Rotterdam: Firma Langerveld, no date), following p. 170.

J.R. Bruijn, F.S. Gaastra, and I. Schöffer, Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries, Rks Geschiedkundige Publicatiën, Grote Serie 165 (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1987), p. 38.

U.S. Metric Assn., “A chronology of the SI metric system,” http://lamar.colostate.edu/~ hillger/dates.htm; visited 14 February 2001.

THE RIDDLE OF THE SCALES É 55 4

Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, vol. 1, various entries; Jerzy Gawronski, Bas Kist, and Odilia Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, The HOLLANDIA Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers B.V., 1992); R.C. Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVIII (1932); and MFA Object File 32.183.

Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, pp. 42, 44, 45.

Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, p. 37; HOLLANDIA, p. 35; Van Yk, title page; and Fredrik Henrik af Chapman, Architectura Navalis Mercatoria (New York: Praeger Publishers), pl. LXI, No. 3.

Hoving, e-mail to author, 27 February 2001.

Van Yk, p. 124; Dutch-Asiatic Shipping, p. 38; and Hoving, e-mail to author, 27 February 2001.

Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” pp. 162-163.

10 Hoving, e-mail to author, 27 February 2001. 11 Hoving, e-mail to author, 16 March 2001. 12 Hoving, e-mail to author, 27 February 2001. 13 Hoving and Alan Lemmers, interview with author, Amsterdam, 17 May 1996. 14 Anderson, letter to Edwin J. Hipkiss, 4 October 1930, MFA Object File 32.183. 15 Anderson, letters to Hipkiss, 4 and 21 October 1930; Hipkiss, letter to Anderson, 5 November 1930, all three MFA Object File 32.183; Anderson, “Models of Dutch EastIndiamen”, pp. 162-163. 16 Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston, Museum of Fine Arts, 1957), pl. 21, and MFA Object File 32.183; Maria Pulsone Woods and Rob Napier, “Ship Models at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston — A Fresh Look,” Nautical Research Journal, 37:4 (December 1992); Lars Bruzelius, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” unpublished manuscript, 16 August 1992; and Hoving, letter to author, 6 August 1998. 17 Irene de Groot and Robert Vorstman, eds, Sailing Ships, Prints by the Dutch Masters from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century (New York: The Viking Press, 1980), pl. 47, p. 276. 18 From the collection of the National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam.

A Matter of Scale A standard practice in ship modeling is to take a picture of a model or a detail with a familiar object inserted in the frame to show the size of the model part. For this to work the object's size must be iconic. Frequently a coin is used, or a pencil point. Photos of fine models and their components should help us take the leap of faith that we are seeing an actual vessel. Thus, the visual icon is entirely off-putting and merely feeds the gee-whiz factor. To make the point, I realized I could visually reduce a model's scale by enlarging the scale of the iconic object. In fact, I could make the model in the photo any scale I wanted. I made a pencil about twenty times life-size and photographed it with Valkenisse, above. The bell seems to be about 1 millimeter tall, when it really is about 20 millimeters. The illusion is complete, but it only lasts a moment, as Dave Fullam shows, below.

Part 5 PREPARING THE BERTH Valkenisse’s model arrived by truck from the MFA in a mammoth crate and immediately became the alpha-model in my studio. Smaller cartons contained the contents of the old bundle of spars, rigging, anchors, and other parts. It was April 1994. A work bench had been reserved to be the model’s berth. I had leveled the bench, sanded its top, and applied two sealer coats of urethane. A simple work base for the model was fashioned from dimensional spruce lumber to meet the hull in concordance with the model’s two original Dutch cradles, which were stowed away from harm. Notches for the keel were cut in the work base. The base was marked for the Figure 67, left. Small wooden wedges are used to center the keel in the work cradle. Figure 68, right. Larger wedges at the bilges are canted so more surface area is in contact with the hull. The wedges are pinned in place. A keel wedge is visible. Figure 69, below. Construction drawing for the dust cover.

PREPARING THE BERTH É 57 keel centerline and screwed to the bench. The notches were cut extra wide so their end-grain edges would not chafe the keel, and so it could be adjusted to center the hull laterally along the bottom. I lay Valkenisse in the work cradle and centered her keel with smooth basswood wedges (Figure 67). Then four larger basswood wedges, shaped to support the hull at the bilges, were nailed to the top surfaces of the cradles. To reduce stress on the planking and finish, the wedges were canted so their upper surfaces contacted the hull in a short line rather than at a point (Figure 68). A condition of my MFA contract was that the model would be protected as much as possible while it was in my care. It would be hopeless to keep woodworking and other shop dust off the model when I was engaged with it, but I knew there would be periods of inactivity. To keep away the majority of dust and to provide a bit of security from folks who might peer in my shop windows, a protective cover was in order. Its over-engineered frame was inexpensive, 1- by 2-inch pine strapping reinforced with 1/ 4-inch luan plywood gussets fastened with utility screws and carpenter’s yellow glue. The skin was 0.005-inch-thick polyethylene sheet stapled to the frame. The frame’s bottom edges were notched to register with the ends of the model’s work cradle. Using screweyes, blocks, and nylon line, I rigged the cover so it could be hauled up to the ceiling or lowered to the table. The box-like basic cover was 29 inches high, tall enough to house the entire model with the bowsprit stepped, but without the lower masts (Figure 69). An additional 14 inches were required to enclose the model with the lower masts stepped, but my studio ceiling wasn’t high enough to let a 43-inch cover, when raised, clear them. So, extensions were hinged to the four bottom edges of the main cover. They flipped up when the shorter cover was required, down when the taller one was, and locked securely in both positions with simple spring-loaded hooks (Figure 70). With this arrangement, I could keep Valkenisse covered until the standing rigging on the Figure 70, left. The dust cover raised to the ceiling. The four extensions are folded up out of the way. The hoisting lines lead through blocks to a cleat on the wall. Figure 71, below. The dust cover lowered to protect the model.

58 É PREPARING THE BERTH three lower masts and the bowsprit was complete. When it was time to step a topmast, the cover had to be removed, and the model would be exposed. Little did I realize then that the day to dismantle that cover was nine years away.

Cleaning Valkenisse Valkenisse had received a light dusting with soft, dry brushes prior to the 1992 reopening of the MFA’s ship model gallery, but she was still coated with a fine layer of tenacious grime typical of objects trapped for decades in the atmospheric miasma of urban America. Further, when I reached down through the grote luik, or main hatch, deep into the hull, and felt around, my fingers emerged black. Initially, I removed loose dust and debris from the weather decks with a soft nylon brush. The lower decks and hold were begging for vacuuming, not only to make things cleaner, but to remove dust that was clogging airways. As in a real ship or boat, good air circulation is important; impacted refuse can retain deleterious moisture. In addition, I hoped for some interesting discoveries, maybe the figurehead’s missing arm, a whipstaff, or a modelwright’s signature. In the end, three separate vacuum assaults on the model’s interior were separated by significant amounts of time. Timid at first, I felt a regular vacuum might pull model components apart or devour artifacts in its maw. The solution was to use a low-volume, filtered vacuum pump, which I obtained from my colleague Chris Morrison. I used clear, flexible 6-millimeter plastic tubing for a hose, taped it to a 30-centimeter stick to form a wand, and cut the end at an angle. I worked down, through the main hatch. For flexibility below, I removed the stick. Progress was hindered because the 6-millimeter hose frequently clogged with objects that had to be removed manually. Lighting my way through other hatches and mast holes with a flashlight was ineffective. Below the lower deck I could not see at all, so snaking the hose through every aperture with a random twisting and push-pull motion was really a hit-ormiss proposition. I removed so much dust and debris that I thought I must have been thorough, but later examination revealed the writhing hose had avoided a lot and the limber gaps were still packed. The second time around, I inserted a length of rigid but soft 6.5-millimeter aluminum tubing in the plastic hose and flattened the end to fit the limber gaps. Thus, the tube reached into the bilges themselves, between the ceiling, the frames, and the outside planking. To get access farther than the line-of-sight, I bent the tube slightly, worked through all combinations of deck openings, bent the tube some more, and repeated. In all, I estimated I reached about 15 percent of the limbers and doubled the amount of debris accumulated in the first vacuuming. It would have been best to reach everywhere, but I reasoned that most debris would be exactly where I was able to reach: in the vicinities of hatches and mast holes, where it would have filtered down over the years. But the hull was still not clean enough, so the third round favored heavier equipment. I hard-wired a 20-volt bulb (of the sort used in electric Christmas candles) to a plug and lowered it into the hold through hatches and mast holes. It was funky and risky, but it worked. With an electrician’s extension mirror, I saw the entire cavernous interior. In a heavy duty cannister vacuum, I installed a new

PREPARING THE BERTH É 59 filter and filtered that with cheesecloth. Then I gently threaded the 11/ 2-inch corrugated hose directly to farthest reaches of the model, turned on the suction, and twisted and bent the hose slowly while it was withdrawn. This brought out another large serving of rubble and dust. To clean a ship model is to unveil its mysteries. I found several specific and identifiable items that were important to the model. Each will be discussed in due course. Dozens of small bits of an old British newspaper — they were in English, had the word “colour,” and referred to “Her Majesty” — had ragged edges, a sure sign of English rodent nesting (Figure 72). The evidence was amplified by the presence of desiccated droppings, empty coats from many small seeds, and remnants of a feather duster or, worse, possibly the bird itself. I was not able to remove two crusty piles of unrecognizable stuff accreted with some unpleasant mucilage. There were cloth fragments of four types, although all had a simple weave. One group indicated that Valkenisse may have had sails. A second group with finer cloth pieces seemed to be from a flag. I carefully unfolded all the pieces with stitching, worked them flat, and tried to align the weave. I ironed them and, using a small spatula to avoid disorienting the weave, inserted them into plastic sleeves. This would keep them flat and let me examine both sides. The third group was much newer, tougher, cleaner, and had no stitching. The fourth group was a single band of cloth about 1.5 centimeters wide that had many tiny eyelets embroidered or tatted, lace-like, into a scalloped edge. I could not imagine this represented anything on a sailing ship; it was much more like edging on a garment.

Figure 72, top. Bits of paper found in the hold included a Boston movie theater ticket and scraps of newspaper. Notice on the scrap at lower left (and inset) the word "labourer" and "Printed for Her M..."; both indicate a British publication.

Figure 73, above. Miscellaneous wooden detritus from the hold. Figure 74, below. Metal pieces including seven gunport ringbolts, a full-size sail needle, and a deadeye strop with chainplates.

Otherwise, the principal yield was about 500 highly concentrated milliliters of unpleasant black dust. The galley and pantry compartments alone generated about 4 cubic centimeters of dust and a rusty ferrous fastening. There were numerous small bits of mostly oaken shavings and solid wood, the detritus of model building (Figure 73). There were a square peg and a red top-shaped part that remained mysteries. I found several glass shards, the largest was about 7 by 13 millimeters; many inconsequential pieces of variously sized cordage; two ticket stubs from the Uptown Theatre, Boston, Mass., 60¢, no date (Figure 72). The limber gap held a single large rusty ferrous item about 6.35 centimeters long that I first thought was an old nail but turned out to be a full-size triangular sail needle (Figure 74). I saved and returned to the MFA everything from the hold except the dust, which was, after close examination, tossed.1 É

The other effective method used to clean the model was the so-called enzyme technique. This euphemism represents the employment of saliva on cotton swabs. Powerful enzymes in the human mouth are designed to start digesting food, and, thus go to work immediately, even on a ship model. However, they are also meant to live at body temperature and are short lived outside. They leave

60 É PREPARING THE BERTH

Figure 75. The effect of the socalled enzyme technique on about 6 inches of decking on a very dusty model.

no residue. The process is simple. Moisten a swab with saliva, swab the swab on the deck, or wherever you need to, in a twisting motion, and toss out the swab. If your mouth becomes dry, a sip of water restores things. On a dirty model, each application will do, say, four square centimeters (Figure 75). I had not intended to use the enzyme technique on Valkenisse at all, but altered my plan when I was repairing painted areas. To match colors, I wiped down some existing surfaces and realized I would have to clean the entire model. Although swabbing a model this way sounds odious, it is not. Results are immediate and gratifying.

Examination and Documentation A long time is required to assimilate all there is to see in a complex object. Think of favorite books you reread, music you listen to many times, or movies you watch again. You find new meanings and connections in them continually. If I had based all my decisions regarding Valkenisse on what I learned in the first weeks with it, my understanding would have been as wading in tide pools is to diving in submarines. Perspective, depth, and objectivity are gained with extended immersion. When Valkenisse entered my shop, I wanted to document thoroughly her condition and appearance. By the end I had taken notes and made drawings and photographs, had used paper and pencil, cameras, fiberoptics, and the computer.

Table 3. Communications Analysis.

Counts are approximate and conservative. Letters E-Mail

Telephone

Interviews

Year

Total

Other

1921

1924

1928

1929

1930

1946

1990

1991

1 4

1992

1993

1994

1995

1996

1997

1998

1999

246

158

2000

2001

114

2002

2003

173

Total

654

1 32

123

129

403

The pencil, and later the keyboard, were the first things I reached for when there was something to remember. The manuscript journal reached over two hundred and sixty pages, the virtual journal reached about a hundred and fifty. The former included dozens of sketches, the latter dozens of tables. My intention was to offer what became the Master Notebook to the MFA as my report for the Valkenisse project. But the meld of the written and key-entered notes became too unwieldy and random because of the disconnectedness of entries on given micro topics over nearly a decade. Hopefully the report you have in hand gathers subjects in a more cogent order, much as Hoving’s Nicolaes Witsens Scheep-Bouw-Konst Open Gestelt was an organization of Witsen’s book. Before progressing far, I began a communications log that opened with Collins’s 1920’s-era correspondence. I made a line entry for each letter, telephone call, e-mail, and so forth, that Valkenisse generated. In all, I received or initiated about 650 individual communications from 1991 through 2003. These are summarized in Table 3. I went on-line with e-mail in late 1998, and figures for 1999 demonstrate the boon that e-mail is to the researcher.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I created a veritable saga with nearly thirteen hundred photographs of Valkenisse, her components, and her contemporaries. Having remained, for this project at least, anchored firmly in the film camera age, I employed a Nikon 8008s 35-millimeter single-lens reflex camera. I used two lenses, a 28- to 85-

PREPARING THE BERTH É 61 millimeter zoom and a 60-millimeter macro. Although the camera could be fully automated, I generally favored controlling the aperture for maximum depth of field, say f32 to f45, and letting the camera select shutter speeds. On the road, I used Nikon’s SB-24 Speedlight flash, but in the studio I used separate lighting of all sorts, a tripod, and manual settings. I exposed film for color slides, color prints, and black-and-white prints. For the first, I favored Kodakchrome 200 Professional, a film that is fast enough to use at the small apertures with reasonable shutter speeds. It produces transparencies that capture colors the same way I see them, that are fine-grained enough to make crisp prints, and that project on a screen nicely. Unfortunately, this film has become difficult to find and expensive; I have not settled on an alternative. When work on the model was complete, I made a set of formal portraits with Ektachrome 320T, a fast slide film balanced for tungsten light; I illuminated the model with a pair of frosted, 250-watt, 3200-Kelvin bulbs in simple reflectors and a pair of Lowel Tota 500-watt, quartz-halogen lamps. I used color prints in the model making process, as we shall see, but not for formal presentation, so I generally used whatever cheap print film came to hand. For black-and-white work, I prefer Kodak Tri-X. Simple as that. Images were made by others, as well. Chris Morrison created a set of beautiful Ektachrome 64T 4- by 5-inch transparencies before any three-dimensional work was done (Figure 76). When the model was finished, Peter Hickey made about 75 digital still photographs and Charles Griffin recorded about an hour’s worth of high-definition video tape. Sean Farren (Figure 77) supplied lighting and guidance for making formal images when the work was complete. Figure 76, below. The model studio was occasionally converted to photo studio. A large roll of seamless paper hangs ready on a pole from the overhead; here it is lowered and unrolled so Valkenisse can pose. Christopher Morrison’s lighting equipment is arranged around the model before any three-dimensional work began in 1999.

Figure 77, right. Sean Farren nudges the large model so it has perfect fore-and-aft alignment for a formal stern-on view when the reconditioning and rerigging was complete in 2003. For this telephoto shot, the model is in the studio, but the camera with its telephoto lens is on a tripod on the deck several feet outside the studio door.

62 É PREPARING THE BERTH

The Glass Snake During the past decade, at specialized workshops and symposia, ship model historians have wowed their colleagues with demonstrations of examining ship model interiors with fiberoptic scopes. The technique, characterized as difficult and exotic by its practitioners, seemed to bring ancient ship modeling into the space age. Initially, I considered coordinating the use of this sophisticated gear, but felt the model’s lack of precision wouldn’t warrant the effort or probable expense. Four years later, though, I realized I should take every step I could to visit Valkenisse’s dim interior. I contacted Dr. James H. Philip, a friend from my high school days who created for himself a dual career in anaesthesiology and the engineering of medical equipment. When I offered him the chance to investigate the interior of something non-human he eagerly replied that “fiberoptics is a simple minor technical skill.”2 Figure 78, above. The Welsh Allyn light source and the Olympus fiberoptic scope on its cable. Figure 79, below. Dr. Philip taking the first plunge into Valkenisse’s hold. Notice the crew of paper men watching from the safety of the quarterdeck.

Philip arrived with an Olympus LF-2 fiberoptic scope and a Welsh Allyn light source (Figure 78). The scope’s flexible probe was 50 centimeters long and 4 millimeters in diameter. The amazing lens had a nearly infinite focal length; at the same time it could focus on something half a meter or half a millimeter away. Outside a range of a few centimeters, it was very wide angle. A trigger on the handpiece rotated the probe’s head through about 90 degrees on one plane. To rotate through other planes, the entire hand piece had to be twisted. The probe was steered only by pushing and bending. The operator viewed through an eyepiece, like a monocular microscope (Figure 79). Philip and I decided to keep first explorations simple, so this hardware had no facility for attaching a camera or a video monitor. Only in the unlikely event we found something fabulous in the hull, like handwriting, would we procure image-capturing equipment. Philip’s particular scope normally investigated lungs and was, thus, a bronchoscope. Arthroscopes are used for joints. That day in my studio, the device would be a “holdoscope” and we were practicing “holdoscopy.” I steered the probe through a gunport and into the ship’s galley. Then I lowered it through the main hatch to the bottom of the hold and turned it aft. Working from the stern and through lower deck gunports, I probed all the centerline openings. Then I worked from the bow. The only space I could not examine was the interior of the small closet or cabin aft on the port side of the main deck. Scoping was an exercise in spatial orientation. It was designed to snake into generally narrow tubular portions of human bodies where it did not require much steering. In the vast cavern of Valkenisse’s hold, navigation was tedious. Once inside a space where the operator’s hand couldn’t go, there was no way to steer it predictably. It was easy to see things, but difficult to understand exactly what and where they were because there was no positive horizontal reference. Conditions improved immensely when additional lighting was lowered into the hold. I could see deck beams and strakes of ceiling planks receding into medieval gloom. When reading dozens of accounts of dives at nautical archeological sites, I often

PREPARING THE BERTH É 63 wondered why divers in murky waters have difficulty understanding where they are relative to a wreck. Now I have a greater respect for their labors. Probing through the debris in the bottom of Valkenisse’s hold felt like snorkeling on coral reefs. Things of unusual shapes, colors, and sizes loomed into view. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, and only hoped I wouldn’t suddenly be looking some beast, dead or alive, in the eye. Scoping was not as productive as I had hoped it would be. We did find, though, a few significant pieces that we will return to later.

Drawings Part of the project was to construct measured drawings of the model’s exterior. Too few contemporary models have been recorded in this way, and it would have been shameful to miss the opportunity, especially because there was complete access with the model unrigged. I would need dependable surfaces on at least two planes. For a horizontal datum, the bench top was perfect. On it, I plotted a centerline and perpendicular station lines at 10-centimeter intervals. For the vertical reference plane, I constructed an inverted U-shaped platen that could span the hull (Figure 80). The platen is three pieces of 3/ 4inch plywood half-lapped and glued at the upper corners. The inner, vertical edges of the platen are perpendicular to the bench, and the lower edge of the upper span is parallel to the bench. Inexpensive wooden metric rules were ripped to width and let into dadoed rabbets in the platen’s working surface (Figure 81). To avoid awkwardly holding measuring devices by hand, I wanted adjustable but Figure 80, top. The measuring platen is just lockable gauges on the platen. I cut two short seclarge enough to straddle the model. tions off an old Mayline parallel rule and, with Figure 81, above left. Wooden metric rules additional parts from a new Mayline hardware kit, are let into the platen’s surface. mounted one short, lockable rule on each vertical Figure 82, above right. A shortened Mayline side of the work surface (Figure 82). Although parallel rule is mounted on each side of the I planned to measure only one side of the model, platen for measuring heights. I made the frame useable on both sides because the Figure 83, left. The platen was registered to bench was too short to accommodate it all one way, station lines on the workbench with simple bolts. and the model cradle interfered with the platen. In other words, I had to turn it around frequently. Two plywood gussets extended below the outer edges of the table to assure alignment. The platen surface was registered to the station lines with 1/ 4-inch bolts in holes drilled through the bench (Figure 83). The platen provided surfaces and edges from which it was easy to calibrate heights and half-breadths with rulers, triangles, dividers, and tick strips. But such

64 É PREPARING THE BERTH tools could not reach everywhere. It was difficult to measure, say, heights under the rounding of the bluff bow. For these places, I used probes made from two pieces of square or round telescoping tubing (Figure 84). The probe was inserted in a tight spot, telescoped out until its pointed end touched the desired spot, then removed; the overall length was noted or transferred. Figure 84, above. Lengths of telescoping brass tubing were used for making awkward height measurements between the workbench and the underside of the bottom. Figure 85, below. A metric rule glued to a triangle was handy for measuring heights and halfbreadths from the Mayline rule on the platen.

Figure 86. Fine, simple points on hardwood sticks make excellent probes; tick marks could be made directly on the sticks.

Figure 87. A detail of the rough first sketch of the lower deck that led to creating the measured inboard profile. The side is straight (where gunports are X-ed) in plan and there is no sheer.

Where possible, I made measurements in a direct analog fashion with calipers, dividers, bevel gauges, tick strips, tracings, or the telescoping probes. Transferring actual distances without having to translate them to verbal or arithmetic language, either on paper or in my mind, reduced the opportunity for misreading and transposing figures each time. On a large drawing board, I laid out a sheet of 0.003-inch-thick Mylar drafting film and on it constructed a base line, a centerline, and station lines at the 10-centimeter intervals. I lay a second sheet of film over the first and started drawing Valkenisse. By putting the construction grid on a separate underlayment, I avoided repetitive redrawing of the grid as I erased and corrected data. In general, data and initial lines were drawn with a No. 6 lead in a lead holder. Drafting film is abrasive, so the lead required sharpening frequently, often more than once per line. Much later, when the draft drawings were complete, a third sheet of film was laid over the others and the grid and drawing were traced in ink with Staedtler technical pens. The result of the effort was two drawings. Folding Plate 1 is an outboard profile with a plan view of the weather decks. Folding Plate 2 has bow and stern elevations, with separate views to record the run of individual bottom planks because they were hung in a very Dutch manner.

Interior Drawings Valkenisse had not been in my studio long before I looked in a gunport. I quickly understood that details and structure within the model were important and that I should not forego the opportunity to share them. Once the model was rigged, not to mention installed in an MFA gallery, it would be all but impossible to see inside. By peering in each gunport and shining a small flashlight through adjacent ones, I could see nearly to the fore and aft limits on both full-length decks. I roughed out a schematic of the features. It was on yellow paper (Figure 87), not to scale, and too small to include every-

PREPARING THE BERTH É 65 thing. Why not create full-size, measured drawings? I had only to determine how to plot the decks’ sheer “inside” the outboard profile and how to measure internal details. The first problem was easy to solve. Using a foldable paper tick strip, I measured how far the outboard edge of each deck was below the run of its gunport sills or rails. I transferred these points to a fresh sheet of Mylar spread over the outboard profile and connected the dots to form the heights of the tops of the decks at the sides. Accurate internal measurement, on the other hand, was tedious. For many breadth measurements, I touched a pointed wooden strip to an object, say a hatch coaming, ticked a pencil on the strip where it exited the hull at a gunport, and transferred the half-breadth to the drawing. Heights and fore-and-aft distances could be measured directly with a metric ruler, but not a long one, because it had to fit through gunports. I cut a 3-centimeter section off a cheap wooden metric rule and fastened it perpendicularly to the end of a longer stick that served as a handle (Figure 88). I manipulated this device within hatches, gunports, and other openings for taking direct measurements. Nearly everything inside was measured directly; few sizes were gauged from visual scaling. Most items turned out to be larger than they seemed from visual estimation. My best guess is that features on the drawings are located within the hull to a tolerance of about 2 to 4 millimeters and that features themselves are recorded within a 1-millimeter tolerance. The results of hundreds of measurements are the inboard profile with six bulkhead elevations, Folding Plate 3, and four deck arrangement plans, Folding Plate 4. The four folding plates show the model as I received it from the MFA, before I did any work. For the record, there is no reconstruction on the drawings whatsoever, although I confess to simplifying projections of some features, notably hanging knees, just to make life easier. Resolution of deck and bulkhead intersections with the vessel’s ends and sides were omitted because I could not see them clearly or did not want to do the complex geometry necessary to locate them precisely. I did not attempt to measure hold features below the lower deck because it was too awkward to get down there with lights and measuring tools.

Virtual Workshop Finally, the virtual workshop was enormously useful. My personal computer was supported by a scanner, a laser printer, an inkjet photo printer, and a photocopy machine. For graphic work, I employed Adobe Photoshop and Quark Xpress. I will describe the specific applications for these tools when I discuss the parts of the model they helped build.

Wrack and Sag We will examine the model’s individual features on a progressive tour that begins in the next section. However, two important issues affected the entire model, so I will review them now. The first was not obvious but threw another layer of consternation into the project. I had adjusted Valkenisse in her cradle so the keel and bilge

Figure 88. A 3-centimeter length of rule on a half-meter stick was invaluable for taking hundreds of direct measurements of interior fittings through gunports.

66 É PREPARING THE BERTH wedges held her vertically. But the model had suffered some of the same distortion problems as real ships. This wasn’t surprising as she had, for nearly three centuries, resided on the same two cradles, and they did not fit well. When I started measuring half-breadths, problems with port-starboard symmetry appeared. If I had measured the model’s sides separately, the result would have been two different hulls. When I made the side of the stem adjacent to the rabbet vertical, the knee-of-the-head twisted to port. Abaft the stem, the forward portion of the bow twisted to starboard, the midship area seemed to list even more to starboard, and the stern leaned to port. A compound or Sshaped wrack had developed in the hull’s centerline plane. See Table 4 and Figure 89. The greater the height above the keel, the greater the wrack. It affected measured heights and half-breadths by as much as 8 millimeters. Table 4. Wrack in Main Rail and Main Wale. Bold = surplus to starboard; Plain = surplus to port. Measurements are in millimeters. Station 20 Main Rail: Differences between Port and Starboard Half-Breadth Measurements Main Wale: Differences between Port and Starboard Half-Breadth Measurements Average of Rail and Wale

Figure 89. A chart showing the wrack in Valkenisse’s hull.

100 110 120 130 140 150 160

4 . 5 2 . 5 5 . 5 5 . 5 7 . 0 8 . 0 0 . 5 1 . 0 0.5 3.0 5.0 4.0

1.5

4.0

5.0

4.2 2.7 3.5 0 . 5 0 . 5 0.5 0.25 1.5 5 5

4.0

5.5

7.5

3.5

4 . 7 3 . 2 4 . 8 4 . 5 4 . 8 4 . 2 0 . 5 0.75 0.3

1.5

4.0 4.25 6.25 4.25

Amidships, where the problem was worst, the height of the main rail was about 5 millimeters lower to starboard than to port. The most normal section of the hull was between stations 90 and 110, or at about the position of the after cradle. I saw three options for recording the distortion. The first was to ignore the evidence, but this would give the least accurate results and make other measurements impossible to fair. The second was to reblock the model in the cradle and start over, but this would have worked only if the model was limber enough to be

PREPARING THE BERTH É 67 corrected, and it wasn’t. I chose the third: to remeasure and average all inconsistencies. But, how to do it? The model was entirely original below the third wale. Using a square standing on the bench, I found this wale was at the point of maximum beam from the stem all the way aft to just below the aftermost lower deck gunport. This is about 96 percent of the hull’s molded length at that height. Assuming the original VOC modelwright achieved bilateral symmetry, this was a good place to start. To correct for errors in beam, I measured all half-breadths on both sides of the hull and averaged them. To correct the heights I measured heights along the third wale on both sides and averaged them. I then plotted all outboard heights relative to this wale. Heights closer to the centerline were affected proportionally less. As I plotted half-breadths of plank and wale runs, the shape came out fair. The second issue was more obvious and has already been mentioned. In profile, the keel’s underside is straight from station 60 to station 110. Forward of 60 the keel raises 1.5 millimeters to the forefoot. However, the keel sags noticeably about 7.5 millimeters abaft the after cradle position. I had asked Hoving if it was possible that this was ever a feature of retourschip design. He replied that it was not. “Imagine the problems with launching a ship with a keel that only rests on the slipway on two points!”3 Indeed. Both Hoving and I had seen the problem before on planked models that did not have complete support under the full length of the keel. Abaft the after support, the keel sagged as if the stern had hogged, but buoyancy was not an issue. Hoving and I agree this was actually due to the tendency of the hull planks, which curve sharply upwards in the run, to try to straighten; in the attempt, they force the stern down a bit.4 I examined the upper works of the after third of the model, especially the runs of the rails and wales, for any unfairness that mirrored the sag. I found none, so decided the bottom problem was not related to the upper part of the model. I recorded the sag as I found it and did not attempt a correction. When lifting points from the hull, I had tried working to a tolerance of plus or minus 0.1 millimeter, but, in the end, worked to the nearest 0.5 millimeter. In resolving curves and placement of details, I achieved results that were within about 1 millimeter. This is a tolerable error rate on the order of plus or minus 0.05 percent over the 1,750-millimeter length of the hull. Creating a set of modern hull lines with waterlines, stations, buttocks, and diagonals would have been difficult, and may not have been applicable to shellfirst construction, anyway. So I took off the runs of planking, wales, and rails. The data are to the outside of normal planking. This will be just as valuable to researchers as modern lines, which anyone can loft and fair from information on my drawings.

Hands Another important thing that became apparent was that many people had worked on the model during the passage of three centuries. The evidence

68 É PREPARING THE BERTH appeared as differences in paint colors, in the types and finishes of woods, and in choices of metals for fittings and fastenings. Differences in surface textures, in the appearance and feeling of age, and of tool marks helped define the “hand” of various model shipwrights. While there may have been more, in the end I identified four distinct hands. First there was the original VOC modelwright who built the model. We will call him the “VOC hand.” He was followed by the unknown person, the “British hand,” who we hypothesized worked on the model in Britain. Then Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., and his New York colleagues, who we will call collectively the “Collins-era hand” worked on the model in the 1920s. Finally, there was my hand. If we assume that all of the model once belonged to the VOC hand and itemize with certainty the work I have done, then we have only to isolate work by the British and the Collins-era hands. É

Notes 1

Jonathan Fairbanks and Gerry Ward, interview with author, 19 March 1999.

James H. Philip, e-mail to author, 8 September 1999.

Albert Hoving, letter to author, 8 February 1995.

Hoving, letter to author, 8 February 1995.

Part 6 THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL A ship model, like a ship, is a complex system, so modelwrights often get bogged down, lose a sense of progress. To help avoid the frustration generated by this problem, I, like other modelers, must reduce the huge task to an extended series of smaller ones that can be addressed and completed individually. I work on one tree at a time because the forest is daunting. The written reports of the work I do on ship models usually follow the work chronologically, but, because I encountered the trees in Valkenisse’s particular forest in no sensible order, this review resembles a systematic physical tour of the model. We will start with the hull at the bow and work aft outboard, below the height of the main rail. Then we’ll look above the main rail. Finally we’ll go aboard and view each deck. For each feature, I have tried to distinguish between original, or at least very old, work and new. I have identified previous repairs with the workmanship or hands of others; traced trends in applications of color, visual texture, and materials; and described the rationales and processes that I applied to the work.

Figurehead A full-length male figure straddles Valkenisse’s head. He is an alert, large-nosed, red cap- and blue coat-wearing fellow with a beard partially concealing a receding chin, and overbite (Figure 90). As noted earlier, we can only speculate on his identity, but Hoving was surprised to learn the figure was not a lion. Because Valkenisse “is a little town in Zeeland and [was] not a person,” it did not make sense to Hoving to have a human figurehead on the model.1 When I sent him a snapshot, he replied, “He looks like some biblical figure.... Does that make any sense?”2 Among the figureheads I could see on contemporary models, I found about 71 percent were lions, 23 percent were humans, and 6 percent had no figure. By assessing worm holes, paint, and how the figure fits on the knee-of-the-head, I concluded his torso, head, and legs are original. The left arm extends down to the very top of the knee, and its hand may have clasped something that is now partially missing and Figure 90. The male figurehead and saw-pierced white scroll work in the knee-of-the-head are original, and the cheeks may be, but the head rails are Collins-era replacements. The simple cathead protrudes above the head of the yellow sculpted figure on the left. The single line hanging from a hole is the bobstay remnant, the empty holes are for the fore tacks, and the vertical timbers crossing the cheeks locate the gammoning.

70 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL wholly unrecognizable. The arm was carved from the solid, but was once repaired with a new piece graved on its outer surface (Figure 94). The repair does not match the original in texture, color, or finish, but was probably made by the Collins-era hand because he rebuilt other decorative work. The right arm is missing altogether, but judging from a fold in the figure’s coat, the lower arm extended horizontally, perhaps forward. Jonathan Fairbanks, Gerry Ward, and I decided not to make any changes or repairs to the arms.3 The figure’s neck was too slender to believe and looked positively geeky. It had been broken and a sloppy repair placed the head too high, too far aft, and

Figure 91. Arrows indicate the poor repair to the broken neck. The dot on the end of the nose is a worm hole.

Figure 92. The head and its walnut mounting peg. Different lighting suggests paint has been removed, but such is not the case.

Figure 93. The torso socket, arrow, for the head’s repair peg. Much of the wood around the socket was originally part of the head.

too far to starboard (Figure 91). The joint was choked with glue, filler, and paint. Jonathan Fairbanks and Gerry Ward suggested I act like a chiropractor to realign the poor fellow’s spine.4 I gave the head a gentle, experimental twist. Surprisingly, it turned. I twisted a little more, pulled the head clear of the body. In the head was a peg or dowel about 5 millimeters in diameter, about half the size of the neck (Figure 92). Fortunately the peg was secure in the head, because the head was tunneled with enough worm holes to make its survival uncertain and needed all the support possible. When I scraped the peg clean, my nose told me it was walnut, which Collins had used elsewhere for repairs. The head and torso were a light-colored soft wood with no hard cedar- or fir-like annular rings, so I suspected it was pine. The peg socket in the torso (Figure 93) was the same diameter as the peg for a few millimeters. Below that, the socket opened into a large space within the torso, a regular abdominal cavity. With a knife, I chipped foreign matter away from the break to see what original substance remained. It seems reasonable to suppose the head had been an integral part of the torso. However, it looked like head and neck were originally a separate unit that included an integral extension that plugged into the torso like a decorative bottle stopper. The extension was more or less ovoid in section, measuring about 6.5 by 8 millimeters. It was the same wood as the head. Somehow the head-neck unit was broken from its original extension. The Collins-era hand repaired the break with the walnut peg, but the holes he bored for it were not concentric. The result was the badly placed head.

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 71 Working gingerly, I loosened the stump of the original extension in the torso. The pine splintered and peeled away from its surroundings easily. It had been a friction fit with no glue. The socket was tapered somewhat, so the extension was conical. When the area was clean, I found the head-neck unit’s ragged edges fit the torso perfectly. I vacuumed dust, splinters, paint, old glue, and worm residue from the torso cavity. With a flashlight, I saw the business end of a relatively modern wood screw pointing forward. Where did that come from? I examined the aft surface of the knee-of-the-head and discovered the head of a slotted, flat-head screw covered with putty. The figurehead had been reattached to the knee with a modern screw. Although I did not want to remove any more wood from the torso, I did want a form-fitting plug so there would be no strain on the fragile and visible edges of the neck-to-torso joint. I considered making plugs of modeling paste or moldable rubber. Ultimately, I relied on a traditional method: glue and sawdust. I mixed Franklin liquid hide glue with powdery pine sawdust in roughly equal parts by volume, measuring the dust uncompacted, like sifted flour for pastry dough. I applied the viscous paste to the socket perimeter. I inserted the walnut peg, with the head attached, into the socket, swizzled the peg around gently, removed and examined it to ensure there was good paste contact, applied a little more paste to the peg, and reinserted it. With the sharpened end of a wooden applicator, I removed excess paste where it oozed from the joint. It had taken four or five days for the paste to harden in the mixing cup, so I imagine it took longer in the torso socket. I waited a week before filling the minor joint gaps with acrylic modeling paste. The repair is solid and the figure’s broken neck is cured, although it still looks fragile for a fitting intended to face the abuse of stormy head seas (Figure 94). To make our fellow somewhat more presentable, I filled in a few worm holes on his face, hat, and chest. Finally, the repair was in-painted, or touched-up with a minimum of paint.

Finishing and Colors Throughout the model I used essentially the same finishing procedures as I used on the figurehead. On new work where I wanted the semi-transparent affect of a stain, I had intended to use regular wood stain. But I had to assure colors would not fade or be fugitive. So, in lieu of oil-based stain, I brushed on acrylic colors and wiped them off irregularly until the desired visual texture or false grain was attained. New work to be finished with opaque color was sealed with acryloid B72. This product effectively encapsulates a part with an acrylic film. Art conservation supply houses sell it by the pound as clear, cylindrical pellets. The user dissolves them to the desired consistency in his solvent of choice. I used toluene and made the solution watery. B-72 mixed thus dries almost instantly and can be sanded to remove stiffened raised wood fibers prior to painting. All colors are brushed-on artist’s acrylics from tubes marketed by Liquitex or Golden. For a palette, I used a piece of plate glass laid over a sheet of white

Figure 94. The neck’s new repair seam is a fine jagged line. It will be concealed with in-painting. Note that workmanship, finish, and the sense of age in the left arm do not match the rest of the figure.

72 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL paper. Colors already on the model were subdued and incredibly varied, even on relatively small parts. For instance, while casual viewing indicates there are many red parts, inspection reveals that there are also many reds on the model. It was not possible to unify them. To emulate the eclectic effect, my additions bridged the existing colors. I mixed pigments incompletely and, frequently, directly on work surfaces so colors would be streaky or splotchy. In-painting on old work was done sparingly. To save tedious listings of colors applied to each part as I describe

Table 5. Colors Applied to Model.

Window moldings; port-side quarterdeck gunport frame graving pieces

Yellow

Main tack fittings; maindeck gunport frame carvings; trucks; inpainted quarterdeck portside gunport frames

Yellow

Window sills

Red

Smokehead; staghorns; accommodation ladders; gunport sill replacements; inpainted edges and inboard surfaces of gunport lids; chase gunport lid inboard ringbolts; belfry; bulwark-mounted cleats

Red

Spars, painted portions and details

Black

Channel extensions; deadeye strops; chainplates; backing links; inpainted starboard main rail; futtock plates

Black

Gunport hinges; bulwark and lid ringbolts

Black

Gillings backing pieces

Natural

Spars, natural portions and details

Natural

Deadeyes; blocks; belaying pins; parral ribs and trucks; some cleats

Natural

Gunport lids, outboard

Natural

Quarterdeck rail, forward end replacements

Natural

Belfry rail

Natural

Dark running rigging

Natural

Golden running rigging

Natural

x x

x x x

Mars Black

Neutral Gray Value 5

Yellow

Neutral Gray Value 6

Gillings in-painting

Titanium White, unbleached

Iridescent Bronze (Fine)

Phthalo Blue

Hooker’s Green

Various

Chromium Oxide Green

Figurehead in-painting

Cadmium Yellow Medium

Gold

Accra Red

Stern banner repair, date

Red Oxide

White

Raw Sienna

Stern banner repair, stern banner

Burnt Sienna

Nominal Color

Burnt Umber

Fixture

C.P. Cadmium Red Medium

All finishes are acrylic.

x x x

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 73 them, they are listed in Table 5. In no place was black used alone, it was always modified with umbers and siennas. Metal parts were washed with acetone to remove finger oils. To imitate the built-up, but chipped, paint finish on existing metal components, I daubed the metal with modeling paste to make the surface lumpy, then added colors. The final finishing step was matching the gloss of original parts. I mixed acrylic polymer medium, which dries glossy, and matte medium in various ratios for application on flat, matte, or gloss finishes as required. Many of the paints on Valkenisse had colors and flat finishes reminiscent of those produced by the Floquil Company. If they were Floquil colors, could they help date any of the work done on the model? What is the earliest they could have been applied? After no less than twenty telephone calls and e-mails, I tracked down Richard Melillo, a fellow who had worked with Floquil and its purchaser, Testors, for many years. I learned that the Floquil pen and pigment products had been developed for the fashion industry in 1937; that they were used by the military during the Second World War, especially the non-glare black on aircraft instrument panels; that, after the war, museums adopted them for their stability in ultraviolet light; and that they became available to hobbyists in the late 1940s. Thus, if we accept the likelihood that no work was done on Valkenisse between the Collins era and the early 1990s, we can be assured that the colors were not made by Floquil, despite similarities.

Head and Headrails The head’s structural foundations, meaning the stem and the knee-of-the-head, are certainly original; if they are not, how could the model have stayed together all these years? Evidence of multiple paint jobs, worm habitat, worn rigging holes, and, not least, the draft marks, all indicate eighteenth-century manufacture. If the VOC modelwright fashioned the figurehead, then I believe, at least, the up-curving portions of the yellow cheeks, which enclose the figure’s aft-bent legs, are original (Figure 90, page 69). Even though they do not fair quite smoothly, the after ends of the cheeks, abaft the gammoning fairing timbers, are probably original, also, because they have some worm holes and were painted white prior to the yellow that Collins left on them. Because they are worn and A show signs of more than one paint job and fastening stains, I believe the two pairs of slooiknies, or stumpy horizontal knees (Figure 95), supporting the upper end of the stem are original. The lovely white pierced scroll work in the stem between the cheeks and the gammoning fairings are also early. But this may be about it. Other outboard features of the head are replacements. We know the yellow headrails themselves date from the Collins era because he said they were missing when he acquired Valkenisse, and we know from photos they were present when he sold the model to Coolidge. If Collins replaced the headrails, he was certainly responsible for building and installing the decorative caps at their ends, the six pairs of head timbers, and the short athwartship belaying pin rail, called the “range” by R.C. Anderson,5 that connects the second pair of head

Figure 95. The short horizontal knees, A, supporting the top of the stem, are crossed by the heavy mainstay and its preventer. The upper knee is finished naturally and the lower one is yellow. The socalled range, B, crosses the head abaft the gammoning, between the headrails.

74 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL timbers. Belaying pin holes bored in the range match those in other Collins-era pinrails farther aft. Outboard of the headrails, the catheads are supported by sculpted brackets called drukkers (Figure 96). Each bracket is a stout timber decorated with a bare-bellied male figure. Below a sagging tunic, he has short stylized legs, and he stands on a small plinth that is integral with the carving. He has no arms, but his shoulders are dressed off flat and dimples in their centers indicate that arms may once have been attached, just like on the figurehead. The brackets seem old, and I would like to believe they are original, but if the headrails that they bind together were made by Collins, then how did the brackets survive separately? Perhaps the old rails were too deteriorated to use, but the brackets were okay. Figure 96. The starboard cathead and sculpted bracket.

What was left uncertain? I could not tell if Valkenisse resembles other contemporary VOC models in not being fitted with any sort of grating in the head or with seats of ease. These features are obscured in photographs of other models.

Hull Planking, Topsides Planking, and Wales As we move aft around the retourship’s bluff bow, we see her broad profile and the principal features of the hull: full white bottom, black wales, naturally finished topsides planking, gunports, and rails. Valkenisse, the ship, was almost certainly built skin-first, a practice extensively employed outside the British Isles. For a detailed comparison of skin-first and frame-first constructions, I recommend Ab Hoving’s book on Tasman’s ships6 or his article in the Nautical Research Journal.7 For our purposes, though, it is only necessary to understand that in skin-first construction, hull planking was attached to the keel-stem-sternpost assembly before frames were erected. Basically, a few planks were installed, then frames were fit inside them, then more planks were added, and so on. The frames were not necessarily continuous from keel to rail. This saved lumber and made the building process rapid. Hulls were strong, as the longevity of these vessels demonstrated. A common feature of hulls constructed skin-first was a chine-like edge or knuckle at the turn of the bilge. It does not appear today that Valkenisse has anything approaching a hard bilge (Folding Plate 2). Other contemporary VOC models have fairly round bilges, but they all represent more modern vessels. On Valkenisse, the garboard strake was spiled to lay in the stem rabbet all the way up to the lowest wale. The next two strakes end there, as well. Then the next four bottom strakes run out on the lower edge of a four-strake gore of plank that follows the lower wale. See Folding Plates 1 and 2. Several planks end in feathery points that many shipbuilders consider lubberly, but this planking pattern was not unusual in Dutch vessels. Hoving cited the lack of a bilge knuckle as a reason for suspecting the model was built frame-first, but he was puzzled by the planking, which characterized skin-first construction.8 Had there once been a hard edge along the bilge on Valkenisse? I believe so. When I was lifting offsets for the run of plank on the drawing, I noticed the planking was not rigid at the bilge, as it was elsewhere. It was extremely, even dangerously, thin. At the seam closest to the

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 75 turn of the bilge, the plank was less than 1 millimeter thick and flexible. Everywhere else it was 3 or more millimeters thick. Figure 97 shows the area where the planking was thinned to practically nothing. It seemed likely the VOC modelwright produced all his planking to the same sided dimension, or thickness, of about 3 millimeters. I could think of no reason why he would have done otherwise. I suspected, but found no other supporting evidence, that the British hand did not care for the characteristically Dutch hard bilge and softened the edge as much as he dared to round or “Anglicize” the bottom. If he did so, the present white bottom paint dates from the British hand, as well, because we know Collins never altered the bottom.9 A second characteristically Dutch planking practice is found aft where the garboard and its neighbor do not stop at the sternpost rabbet. Rather, they extend beyond the normal rabbet to the post’s aft face (Figure 98). This must have mightily reinforced the otherwise relatively weak keel-to-sternpost joint. Above the eleven broad, strongly spiled strakes of bottom plank, Valkenisse’s skin becomes more regular. At roughly the height of the waterline, two strakes of normal plank separate three wales. Valkenisse is unusual but not unique in having a trio of lower wales instead of just a pair. The third wale is about at the height of the lower deck, whose gunports pierce what appears to be three strakes of normal plank. However, following a model-builder’s convention that seems to have crossed national boundaries but was disappearing, at least in England, by about Valkenisse’s time,10 these strakes are actually only distinguished by seams scribed on a single piece of oak. Close observation reveals that the oaken grain runs right across the seams. Next, two more wales are separated by a single strake of plank. Above them, the maindeck gunports pierce a single broad strake of normal plank which is capped by the main rail. At 6 millimeters, the wales are about twice the thickness of the normal plank. Above the waterline, all the wales and the strakes between the lower trio are painted black; all the other strakes of normal plank are naturally finished. But it was not always thus. Residue of white paint still clogs the open oak grain and numerous irregularities in the normal plank in way of the gunports. In the Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16), we can see that these strakes were white before Collins got his hands on the model. I suspect the white was an attempt by the British hand to Anglicize the color scheme. No other contemporary VOC model has topsides with black and white runs of planks and wales, yet this was fairly common on British ships of the nineteenth century. At any rate, Collins removed the white paint from the gunport strakes, and we should be grateful. In all, there is a total of twenty-one strakes of normal plank and wales between the keel rabbet and the main rail amidships, and there are two stealers in the stern. This is certainly far fewer strakes than would have been found on Valkenisse herself, but the visual effect is complex and compelling enough.

Figure 97, above. The arrows and shaded area have been added to this detail from the body plan to display where the bottom planking is thinned to nearly nothing and how the hull probably had a harder bilge originally. Figure 98, below. The two lowest strakes of plank extend to the aft face of the sternpost and are let into it in Dutch fashion. The lower pintle strap bends down to avoid crossing the planking seam.

76 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL

The Channels A salient feature of the topsides are the rusten, or channels. Chanels for the main and fore rigging are mounted on the fifth, or highest, wale, and the mizzen channel is mounted on the main rail. In the discussion of scales I noted the channels are not original and how those for the main and fore rigging should have been longer. It is not clear who fashioned these newer channels. While the British hand was responsible for having only nine main and eight fore shrouds, and probably made channels for these numbers because he certainly made the rigging I found on the masts, we do not know if Collins left the British channels or made a new set, but it doesn’t really matter. It became certain that the model needed longer main and fore channels to accommodate shrouds that the British hand had probably eliminated, and Collins did not know to replace.

Figure 99. White lines indicate the approximate size of the piece graved onto the aft end of the starboard main channel. Other main and fore channels were treated similarly.

I removed the deadeye strop keeper strips and all the hardware from the main and fore channels, then removed them from the model, cut their aft ends off at an angle that gave a scarf aspect ratio of about 1.5 to 1, and graved on new pieces of oak with liquid hide glue (Figure 99). I made the graving pieces thicker than the channels and somewhat longer than necessary. After the glue had set entirely, I dressed the graving pieces to shape on the table sander and with files. I assured that existing nails would pierce each scarf; this also meant I did not have to make any additional holes in the model itself. I copied the decorative ogees on the forward ends. Using a length of line from the mastheads, I checked and corrected the channels’ existing deadeye strop notches so they had the fairest leads possible to the backing link fastener holes in the hull, and I cut new notches in the graving pieces for the added shrouds. The old keeper strips were no longer long enough to cover all the strop notches. I made new ones for the main channels, and, to re-use as much material as possible that had already been on the model, I shortened the old main keepers to fit the fore channels. Keepers had been fastened insecurely to the channels with a few small nails, so I doubled the number. The aft end of the port mizzen channel shows in the Culver photograph. Comparison of it with a modern view taken from the same angle and elevation indicates that Collins modified the fitting (Figures 100 and 101). In the Culver image, the channel extends abaft the gunport more than its width, or something over 3 centimeters. The aftermost chain plate, which no longer has a deadeye

Figure 100, right. A detail from the Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16) showing the mizzen channel and wire chainplates on the port side. (Courtesy United States Naval Academy Museum Library) Figure 101, far right. A detail from a modern photo of the same area showing plate-like chains from the Collins era. (Photograph by Christopher Morrison)

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 77 associated with it, is attached to the hull more than half the gunport’s width aft. The channel itself is in poor condition. Collins certainly replaced it. In so doing, he shortened it nearly 2 centimeters and moved the aftermost deadeye forward, perhaps as much as 1 centimeter. On the starboard side, we can see on a smoother length of the main rail two holes that had been covered by the longer, pre-Collins-era channel (Figure 102). Two other details on the topsides bear mentioning. At the bows, billboards rendered flush the path that anchor bills followed when they were fished up to the side for stowage. Each billboard is four panels of oak the vertical edges of which are straight lines. The nice fit of the horizontal edges to the wales and upper rails indicates early work, even though the panels show no embedded white paint. Perhaps they are new, but I suspect their outer surfaces were proud enough of the wales and rails to permit thorough stripping by the Collins-era hand. Amidships, the outboard ends of square log spuigaten, or scuppers, exit the hull below the levels of the maindeck and the lower deck. The two lower deck scuppers on each side have round bores and extend beyond the planking, but the three maindeck scuppers on each side have well-finished square holes and are flush with the plank. Why are they flush? My guess is that the ends of the lower deck scuppers are still as they were fashioned by the VOC modelwright because they protrude on most other contemporary VOC models. A scupper extending beyond a vessel’s side would carry water, or whatever was flowing down the tube, clear of the side. However, I believe the maindeck scuppers were cut down flush with the topsides plank by the British hand.

Gunports In all, Valkenisse was pierced for sixty guns. On each side there are twelve lower deck, twelve maindeck, and five quarterdeck broadside gunports. There is a single lower deck chase gunport on each side in the stern. It is doubtful the real vessel ever carried all these guns. The space they occupied and their weight would have displaced paying cargo. That the model was probably never equipped with cannon does not mean that the apertures for them did not require considerable attention. One naturally assumes a certain common geometry among gunports, but I quickly learned not all gunports were created equally. To locate the lower deck gunports on the outboard profile drawing, a line perpendicular to the base was established through each. For many, I used a convenient 10-centimeter station line, but others needed a new reference. Heights for the tops and bottoms of each gunport where they intersected the perpendiculars were picked off and transferred to the drawing, a batten was sprung through the bottom marks, and a line was struck to establish the locus of the gunports’ bottoms. The line for the gunports’ tops was struck and found to be a consistent 4.5 to 5 millimeters below the fourth wale (see Folding Plate 1). Gunport height varies; the six forward of the galley gap are the same, but those aft diminish consistently for a total reduction of 1 millimeter. Lastly, the four corners of each opening were measured from the perpendiculars, plotted,

Figure 102. The Collins-era starboard mizzen channel does not cover two holes, arrows, in the main rail that had probably been covered by an earlier, longer channel.

78 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL and connected vertically to define the gunports’ sides. They are far from plumb or even parallel. The sides of gunports No. 1 through No. 3 and No. 6 rake aft. Nos. 4 and 5 rake forward. Aft of the galley gap, the rakes increase steadily. No. 12 rakes forward 2 millimeters in its height of 26.5 millimeters, or 7.5 percent. The twelve maindeck gunports are evenly staggered above those on the lower deck and display similar irregularities. Gunports No. 1, 2, and 10 through 12 are shorter than the others. The five quarterdeck gunports are staggered over and generally more vertical than those on the maindeck. I was surprised to find that fore-and-aft gunport spacing varies by as much as 1 centimeter, nearly a scale voet, from one side of Valkenisse to the other. I found it difficult to attribute this irregularity to poor model building. The rakes seem somewhat regular, and there is little doubt of the modelwright’s skill: He got so much else right, why would these be off? I wonder if skin-first building, with its partial framing, would account for this.

Lower Deck Gunports

Figure 103, above left. The unique No. 5 starboard gunport lid has a rough inner surface and is probably original. Figure 104, above right. The outboard surface of the No. 5 starboard lid is also rougher and more worn than others. Notice the repair, arrow, to the plank above the gunport, and the similar repair in Figure 106. Figure 105, below left. All other pre1999 lids have a more refined diamond pattern on the inside than the lid in Figure 103. Figure 106, below right. Traces of white paint in the grain indicate the other pre-1999 lids date from the British hand because we know Collins removed white from adjacent strakes of topside plank. Also notice the smoother texture on the metal work than on the original lid in Figure 104.

Lower deck gunports were equipped with hinged lids to keep out the ocean. In 1957, all twelve were present on the port side,11 but by 1990 the four abaft the galley gap were gone and the aftermost two were gone from the starboard side, as well. Alex Bellinger, a ship modeling colleague from Newburyport, noticed that the lid for the No. 5 starboard gunport differed from all the others. Thus, the lids that remained represent two generations of work (Figures 103 to 106). My guess is that the unique lid dates from the VOC modelwright’s hand and the others were fashioned by the British hand, because the latter have traces of the white paint we know Collins removed from adjacent planking. All newer lids were scribed on their outboard surfaces to match the fake seams scribed in the normal topside plank between the wales. Their inner surfaces displayed a scribed, diamond cross-hatch pattern with a dimple at each intersection. The odd lid is not scribed outboard, it’s inboard face is rough with tool marks, and the diamond scribing is faint, worn, and paint-filled. All the lids are oak. To replace the six missing lids (Figures 107 to 112), I chose a piece of oak that had been in my wood bins for over twenty-five years. Purchased as white oak, its grain, figure, and color closely matched the lids on the model. I ripped a plank to 5 by 30 millimeters, cut friction-fit patterns from oaktag for each gunport, and traced each pattern to the oak, being careful to align the patterns on the wood so its figure matched the adjacent planking on the model. I bandsawed the lids to shape, dressed the edges on a small disk sander, offered them to their openings knowing they would be a pencil line’s width too large, then trimmed them to fit. Bottom edges required beveling so they could close properly against the sills, and most other edges had minor irregularities that had to be taken into account. The inboard surfaces were hollowed to meet the curvature of the frames; in all except one new lid, the hollow twisted to account for changes in hull shape. The hollows were made on the drum of a stationary belt sander. Using a slip of paper to protect the hull from the pencil, I transferred the hull’s

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 79 Figure 107, top left. The oaktag pattern is cut to fit the gunport. Figure 108, top center. Aligning the pattern to the grain and figure in the new oak. Figure 109, top right. Marking the inserted blank for the curvature of the hull without marking the hull. Figure 110, bottom left. The lid has been cut to the hull shape. Figure 111, bottom center. Scribing the false planking seams in the lid. Figure 112, bottom right. Scribing the diamond pattern inside the lid.

outer planking surface to the edges of a lid and dressed it to final thickness. I carefully removed all evidence of modern rotary motion power tools. On the lids’ outboard surfaces, I scribed the run of the false planking seams (Figure 111). Inboard, the diamond patterns were based on diagonals connecting opposite corners of the lids. I drew the diagonals, then marked off distances for the neighboring lines 3.5 millimeters apart. I set a small metal bevel gauge to the diagonal angle (it was different for each lid), scribed each line with a knife (Figure 112), and used a small scribe and hammer to dimple each intersection. To render both surfaces more worn and aged, I made texturing passes with 80-grit sandpaper over everything, outboard and in. For identification purposes, I scribed a roman numeral on the top edge of each lid to correspond with the gunport’s number and made a dimple or two. Single-dimple lids fit starboard-side gunports. The No. 11 port-side lid had fractured horizontally at about mid-height. I removed the lid from the model and the hinges from the lid. The break was still a clean joint; I repaired it with liquid hide glue. The next challenge was to visually match the new lids with the old. The surrounding normal planking had been treated over the years as rudely as any parts of the model, so it was difficult to interpret the finish’s progress through time. Bits of paint indicated they had been black and later white, but both these colors had been stripped off by Collins. Further, the existing lids differed from surrounding planking, and the unique No. 5 starboard lid differed from all the others. Because there were many more of them, I decided to be guided by the larger group of existing lids. To let the oak’s grain and figure show, I applied acrylic paint as washes with a slightly moistened brush. Dilution would have contributed to color penetration, which I did not want here. I let the color sit for a just minute or two before wiping the surface with a paper towel. The result was reasonably transparent and stain-like. If a coating got too dark, I scraped paint away with a single-edge razor blade and started again; this would not work with a penetrating stain. The key is time; the longer the colors sits before wiping, the more opaque and paint-like it will be. By layering the colors irregularly, I made workable compromises between the gunport lids and the hull planking. The new lids required hinges. According to the record displayed on other models, lower ends of VOC gunport hinge straps generally had some form of

80 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL flaring that was, I suspect, only decorative. Various patterns were used (Figure 113). It seems likely that in actual practice these patterns were formed by extra hammering by the blacksmith. All the designs, except that for Oostrust, could be made by simple hammering, I think. The irregular shapes on Valkenisse’s straps are closest to the simple flaring seen on the models of Bleiswijk and d’ Gerechtig-heid, and they more closely resemble those shown in The HOLLANDIA Compendium and by Dik in his articles on modeling de Zeven Provinciën.12 Figure 113. Gunport lid hinge straps and lanyard ringbolts on gunport lids arranged chronologically show a general trend toward simplification. There is a single ringbolt in each lid's center except on Bataviase Eeuw, which has two ringbolts, one in each hinge strap.

Figure 114, above. The scanned images of two old hinges extended to be patterns for new hinges. Figure 115, below. The patterns were replicated in Quark Xpress, glued to brass sheet, drilled, sawn out, rolled, textured, and painted.

Regardless of similarities to other sources, I had to copy those already on Valkenisse. So, for patterns, I used the two hinges that I had temporarily removed from the No. 11 port-side lid. On the flatbed scanner I scanned the two hinges as photographic images. In Adobe Photoshop, I emphasized the holes for the fasteners with small circular erasures, dropped out the background, and extended the strap length to provide enough material to roll the hinge (Figure 114). In Quark Xpress, I imported one hinge in each of two picture boxes, then repeated the boxes. This gave me twelve patterns with six of each hinge (Figure 115). I printed the document and rubber cemented the patterns to a 1-millimeter brass sheet. I punched centers for fasteners and sawed out the new hinge blanks with a jeweler’s saw. Holding each blank with pliers, I ground the taper into the thickness of the straps, filed all the sawn edges smooth, and annealed the blanks to red-orange with a propane torch. The eyes were rolled around a 1.5 millimeters drill bit, the diameter of the hinge pin. The brass hardened about halfway through the bend. I didn’t want to anneal again, so I hammered the eyes into shape. This added agreeable surface texture. I finished the hinge straps by filing the edges round, hammering the surfaces for additional texture, and boring holes for the mounting pins. The hinge parts that mount in the hull are similar to a rudder’s pintles. The model’s older examples were each formed from a strip of brass bent around a short section of rod (Figure 116). The ends of the strip had been laid against each other, soldered together, and filed to a brad-shaped point. This scheme’s only advantage was that it could be made without boring a large hole in brass for the pin. The disadvantage was that it used leadbearing solder.

Figure 116. Original gunport lid hinge “pintle.”

Because the pintles would be completely painted and their construction would not show, I formed each from a single piece and bored a hole for the pin. On the Preac saw, I ripped a piece of brass to 2.5 by 4.8 millimeters, the maximum size of the pintle’s shaft, and bored pin holes that were just a little too small. In the hull, each socket differed in diameter, depth, and angle of entry, so each shaft required shaping and bending to custom-fit. Then I hung a strap on each pintle pin and fit each strap to a particular place on a lid by bending it to

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 81 match the lids’ curvature. I altered the blob-shaped decorative ending on each strap somewhat, so that they didn’t look like they all came from only two patterns. Basic dimensions are shown in Figure 117. Each lower deck gunport lid required three ringbolts. One mounted outboard in the center for the opening lanyard. The other two mounted on the inboard face at the positions for the lower strap pin. I made the eighteen new eyes and rings from 0.95-millimeter-diameter copper wire. The rings were formed around a 5.1-millimeter drill bit and had an outside diameter of 7.3 millimeters. After the hinge straps were nailed to the lids with brass brads and the ringbolts were installed, the lid assemblies were installed on the hull. I crimped the ends of the pintle shafts with serrated pliers and seated each in its socket with liquid hide glue. As installation proceeded, I glued several detached wood fragments into place around the pintle sockets at the forward No. 8 port-side hinge and the aft No. 9 port-side hinge. A fragment of filler was at the forward No. 10 hinge. On the starboard side, a sliver of wood at the forward No. 11 socket appeared to have been inserted as a wedge to perfect the fit and increase the holding power of the pintle shaft; this piece was carefully replaced. The new lids look like they have been there for a hundred years, at least. Should the lids be displayed open or closed? Gerry Ward suggested that all except one on each side be closed.13 This seemed smart because, with the lids down, a greater portion of the hull’s molded shape — its “shippiness” — would be readable. The small ship might appear more prepared for sea, less like a warship, and more like a merchant vessel. However, open lids tell a better story. They give access to the interior so viewers will have greater perception of the hull’s built-up construction. They show the lack of lower deck guns and hint at the realm of these great ships’ shadowy interiors. With lids half open, work on both their surfaces is visible. And there is the added benefit of ventilation. Contemporary VOC models indicated no consensus, but it was clear Valkenisse’s lids had been rigged. I found lanyard holes centered over each gunport in the planking above the wale. The holes were worn and blackened and could be seen from inboard. Old rigging line clogged one. Finally, I had observed that the older batch of lids did not close completely. I thought this was because they did not fit, but I found it was because the inboard ringbolts were too low and jammed against the lower sills when the lids were lowered. Open gunports would avoid this problem. I positioned the lids open, slightly above horizontal. Rigging them was tricky because the lanyards were short. I inserted a line in a lanyard hole from outboard, pulled it down and out from within with tweezers, tied a figure-eight knot in the end, pulled the lanyard back out through the hole until the knot bound up solidly inside the planking, and seized the lanyard to the ringbolt in the lid. Above six starboard and five port lower deck gunports, the normal topside plank is interrupted by what appear to be lintels (Figure 104, page 78). Some are square ended, some are dovetailed. See Figure 119. They are flush with

Figure 117, above. Basic dimensions of hardware on Valkenisse’s gunport lids. Figure 118, below. A finished replacement lid on the model.

Figure 119. The narrow strip of plank above the lower deck gunports had been repaired with graving pieces where gunport lid hinge “pintles” caused damage. Original work is shown at left. Square-ended and mitered graving pieces are in the center; a large filler piece is around the starboard-side No. 1 gunport. Dashed lines represent scribed planking in the single, wide oak strake between the wales above and below the lower deck gunports. Note the scribed lines were not continued in the forward repair.

82 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL

Table 6. Repairs over Lower Deck Gunports. Gunport numbers, from forward. No Repair

Dovetail Repair

Square-End Repair

Starboard

7, 8, 9, 10, 11

2, 12

3, 4, 5, 6

Port

5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

3, 4, 7

1, 2

the planking. At first I thought these fittings were original and labored to determine which might have been installed by the VOC modelwright and which were replacements. When I was mounting the six new gunport lids, though, the truth emerged. All the so-called lintels were repairs, probably made by the hand that made the large group of replacement lids. The lintels had been installed to replace areas of regular topside plank that were damaged by hinge pins. Table 6 shows their distribution.

Maindeck Gunports

Lower deck gunport lid replacement was an exercise in mimicking existing parts and involved little research. However, the maindeck gunports provided a different and greater challenge. Conspicuous marks in the oak on either side of the maindeck gunports and scars in the main rail above every one clearly indicated that each had A A once been surrounded by a decorative molding or frame (Figure 120). Had Collins not removed the white paint from the gunport strakes, these telltale marks would have remained concealed. On nearly B every other contemporary VOC model, maindeck gunports were framed with decorative molding.

Figure 120, above left, and Figure 121, above right. Shadow lines and footprints, A, of vertical frame pieces show the locations of maindeck gunport frame pieces. The presence of horizontal frame pieces above the gunports is revealed by the notches, B, in the main rail. There is no evidence of frame pieces on the wale below the gunports on Valkenisse. The gunport to the left is behind the port main channel; the one to the right is in the starboard waist.

The obvious absence of these frames indicated that Collins may not have completed his restoration of Valkenisse because leaving such a significant task undone seems so unlikely. Why did he not do this work? Unless we find records he may have kept, we will never know if he was unsure how to proceed, or if he simply ran out of steam. I will point out as we progress that Collins left several projects unfinished. None involved general ship-board systems, like decks. Rather, they all involved specific items for which he may have been unable to obtain sufficient information on which to base new work, or for which no model parts survived. Nomenclature for gunport decoration is a little difficult. The English use the phrase “gunport wreath.” However, wreathes are generally thought of as circular, which those on Valkenisse are not, and as completely surrounding something, which those on Valkenisse do not. So, “wreath” is not a good word. How about “moldings” or “carvings”? These, to me, are distinctly different. A molding is a continuous shape that can be made with hand tools like planes or spokeshaves or with machinery like routers and shapers. Carving, on the other hand, is variegated and must be produced with chisels, gouges, and knives. For a more neutral word I suggest “frame.” On Valkenisse, two decks have framed gunports: the maindeck gunports are framed with carvings, and the quarterdeck gunports are framed with moldings. Who removed the earlier maindeck gunport frames and why? We know from the Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16) that they were not on the model when Collins obtained it. Although I searched the rubble within the model and bundle, I found nothing that might be interpreted as a fragment of such a frame, and Collins never mentioned them. My last surmise is that the British hand

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 83 thought they were too damaged to repair or too Dutch, ripped them off, tossed them, and painted over the evidence. Collins never got to the point of remaking them because he did not know what they were supposed to look like; they do not appear in Crone’s sketches (Figure 11, page 15). My original agreement with the MFA did not include replacing these frames, but they were essential to Valkenisse’s aesthetics. If not replaced, they would be conspicuous by their absence. Jonathan Fairbanks and Gerry Ward gave the goahead to construct new frames with a design based on a study of other contemporary VOC gunport frames.14 To make myself really see the frames on contemporary models, I sketched them from photographs. See Figure 122. In simplest terms, the earlier the model, the more ornate the frame. There were three basic treatments. Frames might have been decorated with straight moldings, like Bleiswijk, d’Gerechtigheid, and de Barbersteyn. They

might have had floral or geometric carvings, like Oostrust and den Ary. Or they might have had no frames at all. Of models that date close to Valkenisse, only Padmos/Blydorp and Seven Provinces have molded frames; Bataviase Eeuw, Oostrust, and den Ary have carved frames; and Jonge Jacob has no frames at all. All the frames are rectangular, except those on the model at the Zuiderzeemuseum, which are round. On all carved frames, the corners are mitered and the carvings seem to accent the miters. On all models, the frames were four-sided unless the bottom of the gunport was seated in a wale, and, even then, there might have been a lower frame segment. On Valkenisse, I could find no evidence that framing was fit to the bottom of any maindeck gunport, even where there was a small space between the gunport and the wale.

Figure 122. Sketches of maindeck gunport frames on other models. These were difficult to interpret with certainty; shapes are approximated, at best. Bottom portions of frames were omitted here because there were none on Valkenisse.

I wondered if the frame decor might be related to which VOC chamber the vessel represented. Unfortunately there was too little data on which to base a theory. I wanted to adopt a design motif that was already on Valkenisse and found a suitable chained leaf pattern on the upper portions of the quarter galleries (Figure 123). To make a start, I cleaned the areas around the gunports. Old paint and plaster had to be scraped out of the frame notches in the main rail, and they had to have their surfaces smoothed a bit. The presence of plaster seemed odd, but I later discovered someone had used it to replace missing chunks of wood and molding in several places. Within many footprints and main rail notches, ferrous metal fastenings had been cut off flush with the hull planking. They were still shiny in some places, such as on both sides of the No. 5 starboard gunport, and may have held the missing trim. Elsewhere, fastenings themselves were not visible, but I detected them with a magnet. One structural matter required attention. Some gunports had thin, narrow fillers that carried the lower sill’s upper surface to the outboard edge of the wale.

Figure 123. The floral motif, arrow, on the upper portion of the quarter gallery.

84 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL Smooth joints indicated the extant sills and fillers were probably original. Missing fillers exposed an unsightly gap beneath the sills. I made fifteen pine replacement fillers (Figures 124 to 126): five for starboard gunports Nos. 5 through 8 and 12 and ten for port-side gunports Nos. 1, 3, and 5 through 12. Each filler is about 3 by 6 by 30 millimeters and is basically a flat triangle in section. I removed two nails from the wale in the No. 8 starboard gunport because they would have prevented Figure 124, above left. A blank for a replacement filler fitted to a maindeck gunport. the filler from fitting fairly. In another Figure 125, above center. Using a jig to mark the level of the sill on the outside of the blank. starboard gunport, a pin protruded Figure 126, above right. The filler dressed to finish size and installed. from the wale, but not far enough to grip for removal, so I drove it down flush with the surface. Incidentally, topside planking adjacent to the gunports was not backed up by framing, just by the chocks that defined the sides of the gunports.

Figure 127, top left. The pine test frame painted so it is not too visually prominent. Figure 128, top center. The vertical frame pieces fitted and mitered. Figure 129, top right. The top frame piece mitered to the others. The recess in the main rail causes the upper frame segment to cant outboard. Figure 130, bottom left. The three pieces are glued together and their edges have been chamfered. Figure 131, bottom center. The floral motif has been drawn on and carving started. Figure 132, bottom right. The carving is finished.

To determine width for the new gunport frames, I measured and averaged the widths of the maindeck gunports plus the old frame footprints on either side. From this I subtracted the average width of the gunports. The answer was just under 6.5 millimeters. I made mockups. The first was three 6-millimeter-wide strips of oaktag rubber cemented together. The second was pine shaped to fit irregularities around the gunport (Figure 127). The light-colored oaktag and pine contrasted sharply with the hull’s muted tones and exaggerated the mockups’ apparent sizes, so I painted them to roughly match the yellows on the model. Fairbanks, Ward, and I thought it would be most efficient to carve a master frame, probably in jeweler’s wax, reproduce it as investment castings, and pin the castings to the hull. Britannia metal is soft enough to bend to fit the gunports’ shape irregularities. As I mulled options, I realized that neither castings nor the materials proposed for them would produce parts suitable for Valkenisse. This model is old and has suffered. It is deliciously and obviously handmade. To an immeasurable degree, its roughness adds to the Dutch character and antiquity of the model. In the early days of our dialog, Hoving admonished me vigorously to avoid making my work too clean or the model would loose its character; he revisited this theme frequently. I decided to carve each frame separately just so they would not be the same. I cut frame blanks from a long 5.5- by 6-millimeter stick of pine and fit them to the sides and tops of the gunports (Figures 128 and 129). I encountered exposed old fasteners that prevented faying new pieces to the hull planking or in main rail notches. If they seemed modern, I removed them or drove them in

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 85 until they were flush. I did not disturb older, ferrous fasteners that were proud of the surface because they were actually holding the model together and were rusted in place. Rather, I recessed the backs of the new frame pieces. Each piece was a unique adventure in fitting. After fitting six blanks to just two gunports, I realized casting frames in any material would have been a bad idea. Castings would simply be too similar to fit to the different conditions at each gunport. To make life easier, I removed the mizzen channels and all their hardware because they prevented access to the No. 11 and 12 gunports. Some chainplates were fastened to the hull within the frame footprints. This proved the chains had been installed since the earlier frames were removed. Many active and relic fasteners adjacent to the gunports made me worry about “fastening sickness,” a weakening of wood from a surfeit of nails, pegs, and other fasteners. To reduce the impact of my work, I used two, small 0.5-millimeter brass pins to secure each frame blank. At this point, these were temporary. With liquid hide glue, I glued the frame miters together in situ, then removed the twenty-four three-piece assemblies. I drew the floral design on each assembly by hand, without a pattern, and strove to not make each leaf the same (Figure 131). I had tried to develop some of the moves for carving the frames by experimenting on spare stock. I was unable to find a working pace, but I was positive a skilled carver could turn out this sort of work with ease, speed, and predictable high quality. I asked Andy Willemsen, an experienced Newburyport wood carver, if he could provide some guidance. He graciously loaned me a few small carving gouges. He spent an hour in my studio demonstrating techniques and that he could carve a band of leaves in a couple of minutes. I never attained his adroitness, but was able to approach the task with confidence. There is little to say about the carving except that it took a long time. I installed the finished frames with liquid hide glue and the brass pins, pushing their heads just below the wood surface. When in-painting, I applied one pigment, then another, mixed them directly on the carved surfaces, and used my fingers to blend them irregularly to emulate the diverse range of yellows already on the model.

Main Tack Fairleads In the fall of 2000, Gerry Ward was comparing my new maindeck gunport frames with those in photographs of den Ary and Bataviase Eeuw. In the photos he noticed large decorative carvings embracing fairleads for heavy rigging lines. He asked if they should be on Valkenisse.15 We examined the bulwark planking and found slightly worn 2.75-millimeter fairlead holes between maindeck gunports No. 4 and 5. They pass transversely through the bulwark to lead the main tack inboard to its belaying point. In the adjacent planking, we found vertical shadow lines (Figure 133) similar to but fainter than those for the maindeck gunport frames made by the VOC modelwright. I knew main and fore tacks were the heaviest running rigging on a vessel, but I did not know why the fairleads for the main tacks, which the Dutch called hals klampen, were traditionally

Figure 133. Arrows indicate the faint shadow line forward of the worn fore tack fairlead hole in the starboard maindeck bulwark.

86 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL

Figure 134. Main tack fairleads on contemorary models arranged roughly chronologically. The figure below each is its approximate height to width ratio. I sketched decorative motifs when I could make out anything at all in the photographs. Padmos/ Blydorp and Jonge Jacob, shown shaded, were decorated, but I could not see things well enough to sketch, although carving textures approach-ed those on other models. Bleiswijk, Mercurius, and the Maritiem Museum Rotterdam model were plain. All the fittings have athwartship holes to lead the fore tack through the bulwarks except Mercurius which has a longitudinal hole like chesstrees on later vessels. Only Bataviase Eeuw and Oostrust have representations of humans, the former a face and the latter three small figures. Four models sport fantastical sea serpents circling the fairleads. Only den Ary's carving seemed to lack a specific representational motif.

highly ornamented. We decided I should make and install main tack fairleads in the same spirit as the maindeck gunport frames. A study of tack fairleads on other contemporary VOC models (Figure 134) revealed two clear trends. First, as time passed, fairlead decor became simpler. On earlier models, the fittings were carved with faces or complex floral designs. Mid-period models have fanciful serpents. Later models have simple wooden timbers. In all but one, the fairlead hole passes athwartship through the fairlead fitting and the bulwark, and in every one the fairlead hole is in the fitting’s foreand-aft center. Second, main tack fairleads became narrower in relation to their height. On Valkenisse, the height from the top of the main rail to the bottom of the uppermost wale is 45 millimeters (Figure 135). The fairlead shadow line was about 8.25 millimeters forward of the center of the hole, so if the hole was in the center of the fairlead, it would be only 16.5 millimeters wide. These were controlling dimensions. If I worked to the 1:2 aspect ratio and let height dictate, the fairlead would be 22.5 by 45 millimeters; if I let width dictate, they would be 16.5 by 33 millimeters. Paper patterns showed that neither size worked well. The smaller size simply was not massive enough compared to fittings on other contemporary models, but the fairlead hole would be way off center if I used the larger size and respected the shadow line evidence. A third choice came into focus when I realized the fairlead holes were not perpendicular to the centerline (Figure 136). They angled forward about 17 degrees as they entered the ship. The scale sketch revealed that, if the fairlead block was about 7 to 8 millimeters thick, and if the hole emerged in the center of its outboard surface, the half-distance from the shadow line to the Figure 135. On Valkenisse the fairlead hole in the bulwark raked aft about 17 degrees. This made it possible for the hole to exit the fairlead in its outboard center if it was about 7.5 millimeters thick and still honor the shadow lines from the original fitting. The shaded area shows the relative visibility of the shadow on the hull planking.

Figure 136. Increasingly large drills were inserted in the fairlead to determine its size and direction; it rakes aft as it goes outboard. Arrows show the shadow line.

THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL É 87 center of hole, outboard, would be 10 millimeters and the full width would be 20 millimeters. A 20-millimeter-wide fitting, with its forward edge on the shadow line, centered politely between the two adjacent gunports and, at 40 millimeters tall, reached nicely from near the top of the main rail to partway down the face of the wale, as in many contemporary examples. To fashion new main tack fairleads, I cut oaktag patterns, transferred the outlines to pine blanks, cut them out, and fit the ends to the main rail and wale. To align the fairlead holes, which were the business of this effort, with those in the bulwarks, I drilled smalldiameter pilot holes and enlarged them with drills and reamers until a drill of the final diameter, 2.75 millimeters, fit smoothly through the blocks for the new fairleads and the bulwarks at the 17-degree rake. Because of Valkenisse’s early date, her fairleads would have to be decorated either with human faces or floral work. The closest evidence, Bataviase Eeuw, had a face, and the next closest example, den Ary, had a floral design. Gerry Ward chose the former (Figure 137). To make a pattern, I started with a clear photograph of Bataviase Eeuw’s port-side fairlead. The image had not been made perpendicular to the model’s side, so the fitting was distorted by perspective. I scanned the face into the computer. With Photoshop’s transform controls, I reduced the distortion and altered the aspect ratio of Bataviase Eeuw’s fairlead to fit the pine blanks for Valkenisse. Because they differed in size and hole position, the port and starboard blanks required separate patterns. So, in a new Quark Xpress document, I opened boxes that represented the blanks. I constructed circles over each box for the hole locations. Then I opened another pair of boxes over the first pair, arranged them so the top of one and the bottom of the other bisected the hole, imported the scanned face into each, moved the images so the mouth centered on the hole, and altered the vertical proportion of each section of the face so the upper box had the image from mid-mouth to brow and the bottom box had the image from mid-mouth to chin. Finally, I dragged the image sides so the two images married well at their horizontal intersection. Figure 138. The image of Bataviase Eeuw’s main tack fairlead with perspective corrected.

Figure 139. A pattern glued to a pine blank that is registered over the fairlead hole with a drill bit.

Figure 140. The fairlead carved. Paper figures give a sense of scale.

Figure 137. Bataviase Eeuw’s portside main tack fairlead is gilded. It abuts a gunport and, in other images, can be seen to incorporate part of the gunport frame. (Negative No. 5155, courtesy National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh)

Figure 141. The fairlead finished. The fore tack is rigged through the fairlead.

88 É THE HULL BELOW THE MAIN RAIL I printed the patterns and glued them to a pine blank. To hold it for carving, each blank was glued to a larger wooden block. Using various small gouges, an X-Acto knife with No. 11 blades, and a dental engine fitted with Gesswein 400-grit white aluminum oxide polishing points, I shaped the faces and floral work. I primed, painted, and installed the main tack fairleads as I had the maindeck gunport frames. É

Notes 1

Albert Hoving, e-mail to author, 20 May 1999.

Hoving, e-mail to author, 13 October 1999.

Jonathan Fairbanks and Gerry Ward, interview with author, 19 March 1999.

Fairbanks and Ward, interview with author, 19 March 1999.

Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., “Queries, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 96; and R.C. Anderson, The Rigging of Ships In the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (Centreville, Maryland: Cornell Maritime Press, 1982), p. 196.

Hoving and Cor Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman (Hilversum, The Netherlands: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2000).

Hoving, “The Fluit,” Nautical Research Journal 42:1, pp. 24-35.

Hoving, letter to author, 8 February 1995.

Irving R. Wiles, letter to J. Templeman Coolidge, 4 November 1928, MFA Object File 32.183.

10 John Franklin, Navy Board Ship Models 1650-1750 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1989), p. 25. 11 Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957). 12 Jerzy Gawronski, Bas Kist, and Odilia Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, The HOLLANDIA Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers b.v., 1992), p. 105; and G.C. Dik, “De Zeven Provinciën,” de Modelbouwer (1993), pp. 343, 345. 13 Fairbanks and Ward, interview with author, 19 March 1999. 14 Fairbanks and Ward, interview with author, 19 March 1999. 15 Ward, interview with author, 11 September 2000.

Part 7 THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE The oak main rail is a 10-millimeter-thick timber stretching from stem to stern just above the maindeck gunports. On the model, it is applied to the exterior of the frames, so it does not serve as a true cap rail. In the waist, a 3-millimeterthick covering board does cover the frame heads. Way forward, the main rail is plain, like the wales, but from the billboards aft it is decorated with a simple molding. Black paint once covering the main rail had been incompletely removed or worn away prior to the Collins era, but a portion on the starboard side between maindeck gunports No. 8 and 10 had been painted yellow (Figure 142). Main rails on about half of the contemporary VOC models, those dating up to about 1740, are colored in the yellow, gold, and buff family. The later half is black. Perhaps Crone told Collins the main rail should be yellow, like other decor on the model, and Collins thought to paint it yellow, but was interrupted by the telephone or for some other reason we just can’t know. Regardless, Gerry Ward said the yellow was “jarring,” so he, Jonathan Fairbanks, and I decided it had to go.1 I tried removing it chemically, but mild solvents wre ineffective, so, with a sharp chisel, I scraped away the yellow. It had been applied over black paint, which had, in turn, been applied over white or another light color. I was unable to separate the yellow from colors beneath, so went down to the oak (Figure 143). I in-painted the area to resemble the rest of the main rail (Figure 144). At the bow, Collins replaced the short deck and beakhead bulkhead according to sketches made by Crone (Figure 11, page 15).2 Collins may have fashioned the catheads, although white paint remaining in their open grain indicates he stripped off paint applied by someone older, probably the British hand. On most contemporary VOC models, the catheads’ business ends had a simple, deep vertical notch for the catstopper to run over. In earlier examples, these notches had no sheaves, but, by the mid-eighteenth century, they did. Inboard of the notch was a single vertical hole. The rig was simple: A large stopper knot was turned into the bitter end of the cat stopper and fetched up on the top of the cathead when the line passed down through the vertical hole. The line went outboard, through the anchor ring, then up, over the cathead-end notch and inboard to belay somewhere substantial. That stopper knot bore the entire weight of the anchor when it was catted. If the hole in the cathead was not just the right size, the anchor would pull the knot through the hole. But Valkenisse’s catheads did not have simple holes. Rather, each had two holes connected with a shallow score to resemble a false sheave (Figure 145). It is possible one hole of each dummy sheave was original and Collins made the second. Later, when rigging the catstopper, which was about a third the diameter of the hawsers, the bitter end nearly pulled through the dummy sheave’s swallow before fetching up. On other VOC models, the stopper knot rides happily on top of the cathead. I did not want to replace the satisfactory existing catheads, but I did want the false sheaves to disappear, so I graved in small oak pieces that covered the inboard

Figure 142, top. The yellow paint on a portion of the starboard main rail at the aft end of the main channels. Figure 143, center. The yellow paint has been removed. Figure 144, bottom. The same section of rail after in-painting.

90 É THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE Figure 145, left. The two holes and the false sheave score in the starboard cathead. The bottom surface is similar. Figure 146, center. An oak piece has been graved in to fill the score and cover one hole. Figure 147, right. After in-painting, the single hole has been fitted with the catstopper.

holes and the scores (Figures 146 and 147). I did not fill the false sheaves that were also cut on the catheads’ undersides. * English apparently has no word to directly translate “vertuining,” so it is used in the text.

Figure 148. The forward end of the starboard vertuining. A significant Collins-era repair was made to the area immediately below the yellow rail between the two carvings. The top three vertuining strakes are a single-piece replacement (defined with arrows) that is much smoother than the original wood below. The repair piece has cleaner edges and no fastening holes. Pencil marks remain on original strakes below the left vertical edge of the repair.

Figure 149. The No. 4 quarterdeck gunport on the port side was missing block framing, decorative frame pieces, and bits of rail and plank. The square holes in the tops of the rail are for sun deck stanchions.

Hull frames above the main rail are sheathed abaft the waist with vertuining,* a northern European planking style that precisely resembles lapstrake boat planking and clapboarding used on houses. In keeping with the theory that many early modelers preferred making a single large piece on a model represent many smaller pieces of wood on the vessel, the vertuining on each side of Valkenisse is a single oaken panel about 6 by 81 centimeters. Judging from edges visible at the quarterdeck gunports, the piece is about 3 or 4 millimeters thick. Laps were carved into the surface and stand proud of each other about 1 millimeter. Their widths vary and are shown in Folding Plate 1. Where the vertuining steps down to the main rail at the waist, the model had evidently sustained a good deal of trauma because repair patches, probably of walnut, were graved into the original oak (Figure 148) on both sides. Unfortunately, laps in the patches do not fair with those on the original vertuining. I was tempted to remove or improve what I believe is the work of the Collins-era hand, but resisted because he was on the right track.

Quaterdeck Gunports Before we get too far removed from the lower deck and maindeck gunports, we should address those on the quarterdeck. They were framed on four sides with mitered straight moldings, like a picture frame. There were problems at the No. 4 port-side quarterdeck gunport. Its upper and two side frame moldings, the blocking defining its after side, and a short section of topside plank were missing (Figure 149). The blocking fayed against the frame abaft the gunport and between the planking and the ceiling. The planking segment fit between the quarterdeck rail and a lower decorative rail; it was not part of the vertuining. I fashioned pieces of pine to replace the missing blocking and plank. The blocking was installed first, then it was partially covered by the planking segment. Both were fastened with liquid hide glue, but the planking bit was also secured with 0.75millimeter brass wire pins. These particular holes were the first I drilled in the original fabric of the model of Valkenisse; the act was performed with a certain apprehension and reverence. I was disturbed that the oak into which I drilled with a finger-powered pinvise was far softer than it seemed like it ought to have been. The red inter-rail segment of plank ahead of the gunport was loose. To provide solid footing for the new molding, it required refastening.

THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE É 91

I pried it away from the frames gently (Figure 150). This revealed two frame heads, voids between them, the interior of the ceiling and one of its fasteners, and the blocking that defined the forward surface of the gunport. Using a small wooden spatula, I spread glue on all surfaces that would be in contact, clamped the parts together, and removed excess glue with cotton swabs dipped in water. The bottom piece of the gunport’s frame survived and served as a pattern. I roughed out the molding in a strip of pine on the Preac saw, cut and mitered three pieces to fit around the gunport, and fastened them with glue and brass pins (Figure 151). I carved away dried excess glue with a No. 10 scalpel and withdrew the pins. Surprisingly, one new pin was held securely by the liquid hide glue. Carving, filing, and sanding the new moldings to blend with the old ones should have been easy, but they had been worn and painted so much that their basic shapes could be only approximated (Figure 153). Finally, I reinserted and countersunk the pins (Figure 152). Meanwhile, on the starboard side, about a third of a vertical molding had split off the No. 5 gunport frame. I removed caked gunk with a knife, fashioned a pine graving piece, glued it in place, and dressed it to shape. At the same time, I addressed a gap in the rail just above the gunport that extended about 20 millimeters forward to the carving. It had been filled with white plaster. I broke out the plaster and graved in an oak replacement (Figures 154 to 156).

Figure 150, above left. A loose plank reveals frame heads. A new piece has been installed just forward of the carving. Figure 151, above center. A replacement structural piece has been added inside the gunport and new frame pieces are in place. Figure 152, above right. The frame has been dressed to its finished shape. Figure 153, below. The approximate section of quarterdeck gunport framing.

The quarterdeck gunport frames had been painted white before they were yellow. Those on the port side, except No. 5, remained white, or whitish. I suspect the British hand was responsible for the white and Collins had painted yellow over it, but not everywhere. When I suggested to Gerry Ward that the white frames would look better yellow, he did not object, so I changed the color.3

Windows Abaft the quarterdeck gunports, the vertuining is pierced on both sides by two smaller openings called vensters, or windows. They provide lighting to the captain’s cabin, and other enclosed quarterdeck spaces. On Valkenisse, the windows vary slightly in size and shape, have arched tops, and their openings in the ceiling are much smaller than and do not align well with those outboard (see Folding Plate 1). Their bottoms are fitted with red sills that slope steeply toward the water. The cedar sills to port were probably made by the VOC modelwright and the oak sills to starboard by Collins. Hoving offered a couple of reasons for why the sills sloped but finally admitted he did not know.4 Although an early hand had cut a rabbet in the zig-zag surface of the vertuining to seat the window frames more easily, we

Figure 154, above left. The right third of the frame piece on the forward side of the No. 5 starboard quarterdeck gunport was gone, A, and a gap in the rail above the gunport had been filled with plaster, B. Figure 155, above center. The plaster has been removed in chunks that sit on the rail above. In the gap, a strongly raking frame head was revealed, arrow, that defined the rake of the stanchions for the poop deck railing added by Collins. Figure 156, above right. A pine strip was graved into the gunport frame and the missing rail segment was replaced with oak.

92 É THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE learn from the Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16) that by the time Valkenisse entered Collins’s hands, the window frames were missing. Fairbanks and I had decided the model presented insufficient information about the windows to plan their reconditioning and to leave the openings as Collins had.5 However, their raggedness, unresolved geometry, and lack of symmetry compelled me to action. Not enough VOC models were fitted with windows to develop a sense of a universal arrangement. Some were square, or at least rectangular, some had rounded tops. I had to work from the evidence found on Valkenisse.

Figure 157, top. The unframed windows as Collins left them. Figure 158, above. The frame rabbets have been cleaned out and pine frame blanks fitted. Figure 159, below. Apertures have been saw-pierced; the slope of a sill is being transferred from inboard.

Figure 160. The approximate section of the window frame molding.

To investigate, I removed old paint, glue, and other detritus from the rabbets in the vertuining (Figure 157). The top of the after port window appeared flat, or flush with the rail there, but I found more white plaster that I chipped away to reveal a nicely arched top. When I realized the sills’ beveled outboard ends should align flush with the back rabbet surface in the vertuining, window geometry began to make sense. There was not much support behind the vertuining panels around the windows and conditions were better to port than to starboard, where there was little remaining fabric of the vertuining on which to seat new frames. The Collins-era sills were not fastened in place. The earlier ones were glued, but I loosened them. Then all four sills were easily adjusted. I later decided to replace the Collins-era sills because they fit poorly. Sparingly, I trimmed the frames, ceiling, and vertuining to provide better seating for new pine sills. The after one had to be shaped trapezoidally because making it rectangular would have required either removing too much original wood or having insufficient glueing surfaces. I made an oaktag pattern for each opening; the forward ones were 17.5 millimeters wide, and the after ones were 17 millimeters. The top of the forward port window had the most regular and best preserved arch, which matched a 17millimeter, 40-degree ellipse. I used the pattern for this window as a master, modifying others as necessary. I ripped out a 17.5- by 5.5-millimeter pine strip, traced the pattern for each window on it, cut out each blank, then trimmed it, and its vertuining aperture if necessary, until the blank seated happily (Figure 158). I used a stick laid against the vertuining to gauge a uniform distance outboard from the vertuining so the frames would protrude equally, and dressed the blanks to the lines. I marked a line 3 millimeters in from the edge on the outboard surface. Extra material was left across the bottom so the windows could be faired to the sills’ slopes. I drilled a pilot hole in each blank and removed the interior with a jeweler’s saw. A small oaktag gauge was made to transfer the slopes of the sills to the bottom sections of the frames (Figure 159), and the bevels were cut. The protruding end of an old ferrous fastener prevented the after port frame from seating, so I socketed the frame’s back to fit. A good-sized wood fragment had chipped away from the vertuining while I was working, but I glued it in place, applying pressure to the interior joint with a stick from the other side of the hull.

Figure 161. The new molded and painted window frames in place. (Photograph by Peter Hickey)

The new windows seemed ponderous with simple square edges, so, working with a certain lack of precision to avoid a too-polished look, I used a knife and gouge to carve a simple 1.5-millimeter cove molding around the top and sides of each frame (Figure 160). Because of the weak vertuining edges, I secured the frames with liquid hide glue alone, then primed and painted them (Figure 161).

THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE É 93

Gillings Decorative male-headed figure carvings called gillings in Dutch supervise Valkenisse’s sides.* Each gilling wears a simple, smooth cap with a rolled brim, something like a modern watchcap. Below the neck, the torso morphs into two or three large, veined shapes that resolve into the sort of fishy tail seen on stylized mermaids (Figure 162). Each gilling is a 3- to 4-millimeter-deep bas-relief carving on an integral 2- to 3-millimeter-thick flat backing panel that, behind the head, protrudes upwards in a roughly rectangular shape. The unit was glued or nailed to wooden blocking built up to the aggregate molded thickness of the planking, framing, and ceiling. In profile view, the blocking, where it was present and complete, was the same shape as the gilling. Located where levels of the sides step down, gillings serve to cover and protect planking end-grain, frame heads, and inter-frame voids. They lean against the deck breaks, their tails curve fairly into rails below, and they are painted yellow. On each side, one gilling faces aft from the break of the forecastle, and three face forward from steps in the vertuining. Gillings face each other across the waist. We know from the photo of Valkenisse illustrating Chapelle’s article about the MFA’s ship models that the No. 3 port gilling was not in place as early as 1931.6 It was not in the bundle of parts and had not turned up by 1994, when the model came to my studio. However, technology paid off. As Jim Philip and I examined the hold fiberoptically in September 1999, we encountered something large and yellow adrift in the powdery black debris on the port side, roughly under the fore hatch. It was the missing gilling, and, when installed, it rendered the port side more aesthetically cohesive. The gillings appear to have been carved by at least two hands. Nos. 1 and 4, those farthest forward and aft on both sides (typified by the No. 4 port gilling in Figures 150 to 153, page 91), are distinct from those nearest amidships, Nos. 2 and 3 (typified by the No. 3 starboard gilling in Figures 164 to 166, next page). The four nearest the ends have more age-related damage like checking and worm holes. They have more deeply carved, and thus more pronounced, features, like puffier cheeks, bigger noses, deeper tresses, and curlier florals. I attributed these four to the original VOC modelwright. The four midship specimens exhibit less definition of detail and little, if any, damage from aging. These probably date from the Collins-era and represent more of his repairs to the trauma the model suffered in this region. Both No. 3 gillings fit poorly against the vertuining, had no blocking inboard of their head panels, and were not fastened in place (Figure 163). To provide foundations that properly located them relative to the ship’s side and to fill out the whole volumes of the blockings, I fashioned pine graving pieces Figure 163. The No. 3 starboard gilling was not securely attached to the model. Here it is lying inboard on the quarterdeck. Support blocking did not extend above rail height. Note the crudely shaped rail ahead of the gilling location.

* Use of the word “gilling” for these distinctive carvings is retained in the text.

Figure 162. A gilling comprises a bas-relief carving and integral backing panel. Support blocking is missing here.

94 É THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE Figure 164, near right. The gilling’s backing panel has been shimmed and blocked with pieces of pine. The light-colored flat rail is a separate repair. Figure 165, center. The shim and blocking have been dressed to finished shape. Figure 166, far right. The gilling is installed and the new wood has been in-painted to blend with surrounding parts.

Figure 167. Blocking behind the No. 4 gillings was also incomplete, but was not replaced. The white dot is a worm hole filled with acrylic molding paste; it will be in-painted. The dark spot in the figure’s side at waist level is a nail hole that I did not fill.

and installed them with liquid hide glue (Figure 164), being careful to work glue into seams between them and the framing behind because joints there were loose. I dressed the blockings to shape, primed them, and reinstalled the gillings. Blocking was also missing behind the upper portions of both No. 4 gillings. But, they were securely affixed in the right places, the absences were fairly inconspicuous, and access was restricted by other features, so I left them alone. The faces of two gillings had small round holes that I filled with acrylic hard molding paste. At the hairline on the No. 4 starboard carving, the hole (Figure 167 and just visible in Figure 155, page 91) was probably made by a worm, but may have held a nail, if the gilling was nailed to the missing blocking. The No. 3 port carving had an empty fastening hole in his cheek.

The Double Rails

Figure 168. The upper two sections of rails are the starboard, A, and port, B, Collins-era pieces. They differ in thickness and have different edge moldings. Their ends are either square or crudely shaped to meet their faying surfaces on the model. The new starboard section, C, has more suitable molding and accurate fitting.

The upper edges of all portions of Valkenisse’s topsides above the main rail are attractively accented with a pair of 5-millimeter-high yellow rails separated by an 8-millimeter gap. Forward, the lower rail of the pair forms the margin for the forecastle, the upper rail holds belaying pins, and the unplanked gap reveals frame heads and the room between them. It is thus on most contemporary VOC models. Aft, the vertuining’s upper edge is divided into three stepped levels. The forward one is lowest, quite short, and abreast the narrow forward extension of the quarterdeck. The middle level is longest, serves as the quarterdeck bulwarks, and, on Valkenisse, embraces the forward four quarterdeck gunports. The aftermost is highest, covers the No. 5 quarterdeck gunport and the windows, and defines the edge of the poop deck. In many contemporary VOC models, the double rail motif was carried in some way through all three A steps, with the lower rail abaft a step fairing into the upper rail ahead of the step. For examples see Bataviase Eeuw (Figure 23, page 29) and Jonge Jacob (Figure 39, page 34). However, when Valkenisse left Collins’s B hands, only the after two sections displayed the double rail. The short, forward step had only a single rail in the lower position that spans the distance between the No. 2 and No. 3 gillings (Folding Plate 1).

When the model came to me, the short rails on the forward steps were clumsy oaken rectangles that fit poorly between the gillings. They were reminiscent of the Collins-era hand, or, actually, of two Collins-era hands, for the two pieces had entirely different feels (Figure 168). Their widths differed by about 2 millimeters, and, at 3 and 4

THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE É 95 millimeters thick, neither matched 5-millimeter-thick original rails nearby. The thicker piece had a too-crisp, saw-kerf-like molding, and the thinner piece had a rougher groove with slightly and irregularly rounded edges. They may not have been made from the same piece of wood. They were not glued in place, but each was fastened at its center with a single modern pin that permitted rotation. It was a simple matter to remove them. Figure 169 looks inboard at the starboard side with the No. 3 gilling and Collins’s short rail removed. (This was B before the gilling blocking had been repaired.) A pencil line connects the tops of the three frame heads, which come neither to the tops of the vertuining repair patch nor the ceiling. But the frame heights are probably original. The small portion of new ceiling appears to be mahogany or walnut.7 It is not possible to tell from the photograph that the upper edges of the vertuining patch and the ceiling do not define a plane, thus Collins’s flat railing, when pinned loosely atop them, could only wobble, which it did. I took the liberty of filing the top edges of the vertuining patch and the ceiling so they defined a plane and so new rails could seat solidly. Fitting new rails between the gillings was fussy because both ends were inside fits to complex surfaces. I worked fits into the ends of a pine test strip, then copied the shapes in oak finish pieces. Inboard edges of the new rail sections were beveled to match the tumblehome. Outboard moldings were carved freehand with a chisel in an attempt to mimic the irregular finish of worn neighboring pieces. I secured each rail section with an 0.8-millimeter pin in each of the three frame heads and with liquid hide glue. Other capping rails with naturally finished upper surfaces showed about 1.5-millimeter-diameter dimples of filler over fasteners. To emulate this, I counter-bored the pin holes to a depth of about 0.5 millimeters with a 1.5-millimeter drill bitt and filled the recesses with hard molding paste tinted with acrylic earth tones (Figure 170). I thought this completed work here, but I was still puzzled because the double-rail motif did not carry forward to the back of the No. 2 gilling, as it did on other contemporary VOC models. I realized later this rail section was inboard of the forward pair of main lower shrouds, a location where several running rigging lines needed to belay. When these conditions melded in my mind, I knew I had encountered another feature Collins had not finished. He had omitted the upper portion of the double rail, a portion that serves as a pinrail. Contemporary models indicated several ways to resolve aesthetic and functional issues here. Some models showed this rail exactly as it would naturally fit on Valkenisse. In some cases, the gap between the upper and lower rails was left open, like around the forecastle, in others it was filled with planking. In some cases belaying pins were installed, in others they were not. On one model, the rail was widened inboard for pins. I knew Valkenisse needed belaying points and I did not want to alter work by the Collins-era hand any more than necessary,

B Figure 169. With the short rail removed, a pencil line, A, can be seen connecting the tops of three frame heads, B. Neither the vertuining nor the ceiling is at the height of the frames.

Figure 170. The short rail between the No. 2 and No. 3 gillings has been replaced. The pale rectangle inboard of the right gilling, arrow, is where the gilling blocking has been filed down for placing another rail. Notice that there is already rigging on the model. I had hoped to honor how Collins left the model here, but finally realized some belaying points were required immediately inboard of the forward few main shrouds.

96 É THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE so I settled on installing the upper rail with no closing strake beneath. Feeling safe because it was replacement work, I filed down the blocking inboard of the No. 2 gilling (Figure 170), being careful to not nick the gilling or its integral backing panel. Surprisingly little wood had to be removed to provide lands atop the blocking that would place the Figure 171, above. The new oak rail continues the double rail rails in a fair 8-millimeter-high run from those abaft the motif to the forward end of the vertuining. There is no plank or No. 3 gilling. The new rail extensions are white oak and ceiling below the rail. are pinned to the blocking for the No. 2 and No. 3 gillings Figure 172, below. The rail has been finished and fitted with four (Figure 171). The starboard extension had to be notched belaying pins. Its port-side counterpart has five pins. around the galley smokehead, and was bored for four belaying pins (Figure 172). Five pins were installed to port, where there was no interference. On contemporary models this rail ends on the gilling’s aft surface because the gillings were higher than the rail. On Valkenisse, though, the gillings were somewhat shorter. Because the gilling tops share neither port-starboard symmetry nor have smooth, regular forward faces, I let the rails extend forward of the gillings a few millimeters. The sole disadvantage is one of seamanship: that slight overhang could foul lines and chafe the foot of the main course. Regardless, the extensions blend well and look like they have been a part of the model’s architecture for quite some time.

Figure 173, above. A transverse joint in the cap rail, arrow, is too near the socket for the after-most sun deck stanchion, so wood there split away. The oak graving piece sits on the rail just abaft where it will fit. Figure 174, below. The oak graving piece has been installed and dressed to final shape. Other pieces in the area were glued together again for reinforcement.

Several smaller repairs were required in the double rails. Above the aft end of the starboard No. 4 quarterdeck gunport, there is a transverse joint in the oak rail cap. Only a few millimeters forward is a socket for the aftermost sun deck stanchion (Figure 173). A small piece of the cap rail had broken away. I graved in a new oak filler and reglued other loose components in the area (Figure 174). The upper rails along both sides of the poop deck are a Collins-era replacement, as are the open railings above. Stanchions for the latter extend down, through the deck-edge rail and fay against original frames. This became visible after an old plaster repair (Figure 155, page 91) had been removed. Safety would seem to call for such railings, but safety issues were considered differently in the eighteenth century than today, and poop deck railings are rare on other contemporary VOC models.

The Stern Considering the complexity of Valkenisse’s stern, there is relatively little to report about it. Lower hull planking terminates at the edges of a flat, vertical, transverse surface called a “square tuck” (Figure 175) rather than curving up sharply in a “round tuck” (Figure 176) to end on the wing transom, the stern’s heaviest transverse timber. On Valkenisse (Figure 21, page 28), the hekbalk, or wing transom, is the stern’s lowest yellow molding. The square tuck’s diagonal planking seams are not exactly parallel, and its surface rounds forward about 4 millimeters from the centerline. It seems intuitive that a square tuck would not contribute greatly to a vessel’s speed or handling, and such was the case. The English abandoned the square tuck for the round tuck before the Dutch, who finally phased it out during the 1720s, or so. This change provides a convenient tool for dating models.

THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE É 97 Figure 175, far left. In a vessel built with a square tuck, there is a flat area on the stern, A, that the normal bottom plank meets at a hard edge, arrow. This is the model of den Ary. (A149(1)d, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam)

Figure 176, near left. In a vessel built with a round tuck, the normal bottom plank curves up to the principal transverse timber of the stern, arrow, and there is no edge. This image of d’ Gerechtigheid has been horizontally flipped to compare more easily to Figure 175. (S2397-d, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam)

The sternpost’s consistent 17-millimeter siding at the rabbet continues to the after edge at the top, but tapers to 12 millimeters just above the garboards. There is a 0.5-millimeter concavity in the taper. The rudder is of different wood and workmanship than anything on the model that is attributable to the VOC modelwright. So, because it is on the stern in the Culver photograph, I believe it was made by the British hand. It is a close-grained, dense yellow wood, perhaps box. In Dutch fashion, the thickening of the garboard strake and its neighbor was worked into the rudder (Figures 12, 21, 175, and 176), but it is not quite as pronounced. The sternpost’s six gudgeon straps are old, irregular, have characteristically Dutch bulges at their inner ends, like Valkenisse’s gunport lid hinges, and remain only loosely fastened to the hull with battered nails. The lowest gudgeon bends downward so it doesn’t come too close to a planking seam. The rudder’s pintle straps, on the other hand, are crisp-edged, straight, and firmly attached with dent-free brads. The rudder’s white paint appears to be a thin, single-coat wash that does not cover completely. The rudder chains seem too new, regular, and fine for the VOC modelwright’s hand. They lead to the little button-like objects above the hekbalk.

Steering Of the many visitors to my studio, 9-year-old Christian Farren was the fastest, in less than a minute, to ask, “How did they steer?” The rudder is mortised for a tiller that would enter the hull just under the maindeck. The ship could have had a whipstaff (Figure 177) or a steering wheel. Either was possible in 1717 as the former was evolutionarily on the way out, and the latter was on the way in. Had either been fitted on the model, we likely Figure 177. A whipstaff articulated to the forward end of the tiller and extended upward, through a rowle, or spindle. The rowle, blue, rotated on a fore-and-aft axis in partners at a deck opening. Pushing the top of the whipstaff to one side pushed the tiller to the opposite side below the rowle; that is, the ship turned the way the helmsman pushed the whipstaff. The whipstaff could slide in the rowle so the tiller could be pushed farther to both sides. The dashed lines indicate a possible location for a helmsmen’s viewing hatch in the quarterdeck.

98 É THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE would have found evidence of it, but nothing represents the vessel’s steering system at all. The undersides of the deck beams have no marks, holes, or fittings that indicate a tiller quadrant, tiller ropes, or blocks for them were ever fitted — this in a space where there are complete log pumps and ringbolts for rigging guns. A tiller on Valkenisse could not extend forward of the mizzenmast because it stepped on the lower deck. Because all whipstaff components must link directly to and above a tiller’s forward end, a whipstaff would have to have been abaft the mizzen. The whipstaff rowle had to mount in an aperture in the maindeck, which is certainly original on the model, and there is no such aperture. It is likely, had there been a whipstaff, that above it would have been a small helmsman’s viewing hatch in the quarterdeck, but we do not know if Collins was planning to install such a fitting. If the VOC modelwright installed a steering wheel, it would almost certainly have been on the quarterdeck, but it could have been ahead of or abaft the mizzen because wheels were connected to tillers with ropes that could lead around masts. Examination revealed no applicable fairleads in the original maindeck or bulkheads. My best guess is that, because there is no evidence of a whipstaff on the maindeck, the model was originally fitted with a steering wheel that was not connected to the rudder and that Collins had not yet decided how to replace.

Decorative Work

Figure 178, above. Three female nudes decorating the stern timbers on each side at the height of the lower deck. The large nude on the port quarter is missing from the starboard side. The windows open into the maindeck; their red mullions were added during the Collins era. Figure 179, below. The large female figure is missing. No attempt was made to replace it or to repair the damage to carvings near the open lower deck gunport. Notice the steeply sloping sill in the frameless window in the vertuining.

Decorative carvings which garnish Valkenisse are not highly refined, but their workmanship and geometry fit the hull and its aesthetics well. On the stern, some iconography is undecipherable because it was worn, paint clogged, or never refined to the level of representational carving. We have remarked on the VOC logo at the center of the top of the stern, the name and date banner between the rows of quarterdeck and maindeck windows, and the lion above the rudder port. Nearly all the rest of the decor exhibits floral motifs. The exceptions are terms, or bust-like figures carved into vertical structural timbers of the stern and quarter galleries at the level of the lower deck (Figure 178). These terms are armless female nudes with robes draped at the hips and entwined legs that end in mermaid-like fins. In the Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16), the two large figures right at the quarters are both missing, however the port one was present in the 1957 McLananthan booklet. It is still on the model. Because of its workmanship and fit, I believe it was made by the VOC modelwright, became detached but not lost, and was reinstalled during the Collins era. Its presence may be the reason the model’s port side is shown by McLanathan. There was no discussion between the MFA and me about replacing the still missing starboard sister. No floral carvings were missing when Collins sold the model. However, some carvings were damaged, notably along the forward lower edge of the starboard quarter gallery (Figure 179); I did not repair any of them. Some carving segments seemed to differ stylistically enough from others that I wondered if they are replacements. These include the the fragile-looking and ill-fitting triangular panels outboard of the quarterdeck windows (Figures 181 to 183, page 100) and the starboard-most panel of frieze work immediately below the slingerlijst, or very characteristically Dutch recurved timber on the stern at maindeck height.

THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE É 99 All the quarter gallery and stern windows are glazed. However, no mullions appear in the Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16), and they do in McLanathan, so it was Collins who produced them from precisely sawn, perhaps commercially available, stripwood that is too refined for Valkenisse’s otherwise rustic atmosphere.

The ANNO Carving My manuscript log for 12 March 1999 contains the entry, “Right now, at 11:12 A.M., I start working in three dimensions.” This big moment involved a second date: “ANNO 1717.” A banner stretches across the model’s stern between the rows of maindeck and quarterdeck windows. You have probably noticed the Ns in ANNO and VALKENISSE are backwards. When I asked Ab Hoving about this, he replied, “Don’t let the difference in spelling confuse you. In those days in Holland there were no laws about the spelling as there are today. In Witsen I found one word written in seven different ways, sometimes two of them in the same sentence.”8 I suspect the formation of letters can be included in this meaning of spelling because I have seen the backwards Ns elsewhere. The Culver photograph shows the banner as a dark color and the floral enhancements and lettering as a light color, but, by the end of the Collins era, as marked by an image in Anderson’s 1932 article, the banner had become white, the florals yellow, and the lettering dark. Identical floral and drapery work in the two images proves the banner had not been replaced, but repainted. The banner was still complete in 1957.9 However, by the early 1990s, the left section of banner, bearing the legend ANNO, was lost. Rough edges indicated that it had broken away and that the entire banner had originally been a single carving. The missing piece concealed holes and troughs that indicated worm or insect infestation and contained a characteristic fine pellet-like powder (Figure 182). Part of my commission from the MFA was to repair the banner because we knew, from the McLanathan photo, exactly what it looked like. The first step was to pare away splintered wood outside the large floral whorl to make the repair joint less conspicuous. As I carved, I met alternate layers of markedly harder and softer wood, a condition that indicated the original carving was a softwood with harder annular rings, like cedar or fir. I based my pattern on the image in McLanathan which was taken from directly astern with little or no distortion from perspective.10 I scanned the image and cropped it to the local area of the banner to save disc space. On the model, I had precisely measured a nearby distance, the length of the word VALKENISSE between the left extremity of the letter V and the right extremity of the second letter E. This was 109 millimeters. In Quark Xpress, I constructed a 109-millimeter scale and enlarged the image until VALKENISSE fit the scale’s brackets (Figure 180). For most of the pattern, I used the banner’s ANNO end, but I acquired its missing tails by digitally flipping them from the starboard banner end and pasting them in place. I then had a complete pattern which I printed onto paper and traced on a 3.5-millimeter-thick piece of basswood, which I chose over pine because it is less liable to fracture in small sizes. With a jeweler’s saw, I cut out the basic shape, fit it against the original

109 millimeters

Figure 180. Using the length of the word VALKENISSE to gauge the new ANNO section of the banner.

100 É THE HULL, MAIN RAIL AND ABOVE scroll’s end, and adjusted it slightly to fit the field on the stern — the thin paper pattern slipped behind the field’s lower molding, but the thicker wood did not. I carved the scroll, lettering, and florals with a No. 11 X-Acto blade, a No. 10 scalpel blade, and two gravers. I mounted it with liquid hide glue. While I was at it, I also replaced the short floral curl over the banner to the right of the vessel’s name. Figure 181, top left. The ANNO carving was present when the images in McLanathan’s book were made in 1957. The triangular carving, arrow, in the space above that for the ANNO carving seems too delicate and ill-fitting when compared to other carvings on the model. (From McLanathan, Ship Models, pl. 22) Figure 182, top right. By 1989, the ANNO carving was missing and evidence of bugs or worms was exposed. Figure 183, bottom left. The basswood replacement is carved and fitted, but not finished. Figure 184, bottom right. The new ANNO carving completed. The elliptical windows outboard at the maindeck level are typical of retourschepen.

Notes 1

Jonathan Fairbanks and Gerry Ward, interview with author, 19 March 1999.

G.C.E. Crone, “Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 154.

Ward, interview with author, 11 September 2000.

Jerzy Gawronski, Bas Kist, and Odilia Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, Hollandia Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers b.v., 1992), p. 23; and Albert Hoving, e-mail to author, 21 May 1999.

Fairbanks, interview with author, 19 March 1999.

H.I. Chapelle, “Model Room Boston Museum of Fine Arts,” The Mariner V:III (July 1931), p. 69.

In his November 1928 letter to Coolidge, Irving R. Wiles had suggested there was a good deal of walnut in the model. By and large, I believe Wiles was mistaken, but there may be some walnut in this vertuining repair.

Hoving, letter to author, 13 May 1994.

R.C. Anderson, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVIII (1932); and Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957).

10 McLanathan, Ship Models, pl. 22.

Part 8 GOING ABOARD Formal entry to Valkenisse was amidships, over the main rail, between the No. 6 maindeck gunport and the No. 2 gilling. Two square mortises about a man’s width apart in the top of the main rail at this location on each side (Figure 186, next page) were almost certainly sockets for the bases of manrope stanchions. On other models, the stanchions were generally metal, but the relatively large size and square shape of Valkenisse’s mortises indicate they were probably for tenons on wooden fittings. The model has no old fastener holes or glue footprints to indicate that a complete ladder or individual stair treads were permanently mounted to the topsides. I did not install manropes because I could find no consistent evidence for their configuration.

The Maindeck Where will we begin our tour? Let’s look down where we came aboard, at the maindeck itself. The surface’s 5-millimeter-thick oak planking shows a great deal of age and wear, so I am certain it is original. This means that most everything below it must be original, as well. In another visible instance of making a few pieces of wood on the model do the work of many on the vessel, the VOC modelwright planked the maindeck with just seven broad oaken panels. (See Folding Plates 1 and 4; follow progress of our tour on these and the other Folding Plates.) The first is about 84 millimeters wide, spans the centerline, and is flanked by two narrow, 15-millimeter binding strakes, which subtly curve to follow the deck edge, in plan, and let down about 1 millimeter into the beams below. Outboard of these are two more broad, spiled panels; the inner is about 43 millimeters wide and the outer fits against the curved margin or waterway at the side. Because the decking is worn from the passage of time, measuring camber and consistent deck thickness was approximate. With that said, the camber amidships on the maindeck is about 0.8 centimeters in a half-breadth of about 16 centimeters. Starting under the forecastle, way forward in the eyes (see Folding Plate 3), a large, worm-damaged breasthook siding about 20 millimeters fits under the deckhead and its arms arc around, inside the ceiling to the ends of the beakhead beam. Below, a 4-millimeter-high margin covers the forward ends of the decking. Two hawse holes are on each side of the stem, and, just outboard of them on each side, a vertical roller is fitted between the breasthook and the margin. The rollers could have no purpose in the model other than to add to thorough detailing. Moving aft, we first encounter the pair of long riding bitt knees. Their 136millimeter forward ends are half-dovetailed into an 8-millimeter-square athwartship connecting timber on deck. Within the rectangle defined by the knees and deck piece is the 25-millimeter hole for the foremast. At about midlength, the knees’ tops are mortised to receive the heels of the fore sheet bitts. The aft end of the knees fay against the 16- by 18-millimeter pins of the riding bitts that are crossed by a 104-millimeter-long crosspiece. It is 14 by 20 millimeters in section. Anchor cables belay to the massive bitts. Abaft the bitts is the fore hatch. It is completely under the forecastle. The 35- by 48-millimeter opening is framed with a 9-millimeter-wide coaming that is nearly flush with the deck.

102 É GOING ABOARD Before leaving the forecastle’s shelter, let’s look up at its structure. It is supported by deck beams molded about 7.5 and sided about 11 millimeters. They are rectangular in section, rather than rhomboid, and sit square to the sheer. Beams are easier to make and install this way but, because of their camber, would appear as bowed lines in plan view. The beams are spaced relatively regularly, and the forward one defines the shallow beakhead bulkhead. The deck structure includes no carlings, ledges, or lodging knees. However, a hanging knee siding about 6.5 millimeters supports each end of every beam. The knees, which have no visible grain and, thus, are probably not oak, fay against and are nailed to beams’ fore or after faces, without apparent system, and to the ceiling. They are straight unless being so would cause them to interfere with a gunport, in which case they hook gracefully around the openings, leaving room for two ringbolts for the gun’s rigging (Figure 185). The upper legs of several knees are broken, and some fragments are missing. On the inboard profile, no attempt was made to plot the length of the upper legs; I have standardized them. Figure 185. Two hanging knees hook around gunports to provide space for ringbolts, which are not shown, in this detail from Folding Plate 3. Notice that deck beams serving as nailers for bulkheads, red, are rhomboid in section but others, blue, are square to the decks they support.

The main hatch is at the aft end of the open maindeck waist (Figures 186 and 233, page 121). The main hatch’s 63- by 82-millimeter opening is framed with a red coaming, which, like all other hatch coamings on the model, sits atop the deck; it is not let down to the deck beams beneath (Folding Plate 3). The forward coaming is 9.5 millimeters broad. The two side elements are about 11 millimeters wide, are half-dovetailed into the forward and after elements, and are rabbeted about 2 millimeters deep and wide for hatch covers, which were and remain missing. On the centerline, the coamings are mortised for a missing hatch beam. The after coaming element is about 10 millimeters wide at the centerline, but its after edge rounds forward to just 8 millimeters at the outer corners. At the centerline, the coaming stands about 5 millimeters proud of the deck, but the coaming’s camber is greater than the deck’s, so the ends are nearly flush outboard. Directly abaft the main hatch, the deck surface had been patched with a rectangular panel of new wood. I suspect this Collins-era insertion replaced original decking damaged by the leverage of a twisting mast when the model sustained major trauma. The patch surrounds or abuts seven deck openings. In the center of the patch is the 32-millimeter-diameter mainmast partners. Abaft this, the pair of

Figure 186. Looking aft on the maindeck at the main hatch and other fittings near the mainmast hole. Notice the maindeck is planked with only seven worn panels. Compare their texture with the too-smooth Collins-era patch abaft the hatch. The sheet bitts are old, the huge knight dates from Collins’s hand. Notice the two sockets for manrope stanchions in the port main rail and the rectangular opening in the maindeck for the smokehead from the galley, which is below on the lower deck.

GOING ABOARD É 103 12-millimeter-square pins for the sheet bitts penetrates the deck. Each pin was fully mortised for a pair of vertical, fore-and-aft sheaves, which are now missing. The bitt’s crosspiece curves aft and looks fragile, compared to other features, but I believe the entire structure is original. The huge 19- by 24-millimeter knecht, or knight, a post for running rigging, is next. It is a Collins-era replacement with three false fore-and-aft sheaves. Abreast it are two 26-millimeter-square hatch openings framed with 3- by 5-millimeter coamings. These and most other framed hatches differ from the main hatch because their forward and after coamings half-dovetail into the side ones; we will call these “standard hatches.” Although all are made the same way, their sizes differ, and I have recorded them by the sizes of their deck openings. Only one asymmetrical aperture pierces the maindeck. It is abreast the mainmast, outboard, hard against the starboard bulwark, and beneath the extension of the quarterdeck above (Figure 186). It is for the galley smokehead, which we’ll discuss when we go up to the quarterdeck. The capstan occupies the largest covered area under the quarterdeck. Although the machine was simply made in the old-fashioned way, with few applied pieces except for the whelps, it dates, surprisingly, from the Collins era. The head is scribed with characteristically Dutch spirals, and its three long, slender bars mount in through-mortises at different heights. The barrel shows marks of modern engine lathe turning. The capstan’s axis is vertical, rather than perpendicular to the deck, but there is no sheer-correcting foundation or pad. The stout, tapered shaft penetrates the maindeck and seats in an original heavy bolster on the lower deck below. The unit rotates freely, but can not be removed because it is too tall and is held down by a square, through-shaft keeper peg which must have been installed through a lower deck gunport or before the maindeck was planked. A pair of operable wooden pawls on the maindeck stopper the capstan and are probably original. The next feature, a grating in an opening I’ll call the after hatch, was spotted with difficulty because it is flush with the maindeck surface. The four athwartship ledges and seven fore-and-aft carlins all measure 2.5 by 5 millimeters. Spaced evenly in the 40- by 80-millimeter aperture, the grid is open; it would endanger sailors. The ends of the athwartship ledges are mortised into the deck’s binding strakes. There is no frame or coaming. While I think the opening and mortises are original, the grating itself is not. It has circular-motion tool marks on the bottom, appears to be mahogany or perhaps walnut, and is pinned in place. Its workmanship seems to indicate the British hand. A 34- by 40-millimeter standard hatch opening framed with 4- by 6-millimeter coamings is next aft. A wide, built-up Collins-era ladder that descends from the quarterdeck above lands on the port hatch coaming. Abutting the after coaming is a 1.5-millimeter-thick reinforcing pad for the 19.5-millimeter mizzenmast hole. The pad and the two simple, yet aesthetically captivating, oaken, round-barreled log pumps abreast it appear advantageously in McLanathan’ book (Figure 187).1 The pump barrels are neither parallel nor vertical, but rake aft as they rise from the bilge; the starboard pump is somewhat more vertical. McLanathan’s close-up image reveals no inkling of the maindeck’s single athwartship bulkhead that stands only a couple of centimeters farther aft. It is comprised of 4-millimeter-thick oak panels nailed at the top to the forward sides

Figure 187. The evocative pump photograph. The mizzenmast hole and reinforcement pad are between the pumps. This image may have inspired the entire process of measuring the model’s interior and drawing the inboard profile. (From McLanathan, Ship Models, pl. 23)

104 É GOING ABOARD of a deck beam and a 6- by 6-millimeter quarter-round deck stringer or nailer at the bottom. The bulkhead is asymmetrical with an open doorway to port (Figure 188, Section D). The bulkhead’s forward face is trimmed below and above with light moldings and bears, around the doorway, 14-millimeter-wide pilasters. They are relief-carved, have simple plinths and capitals, and are duplicated to starboard, although there is no opening between them on that side.

Figure 188. Sections C and D from Folding Plate 3 show the fore and aft sides of the same bulkhead, but just on the port side. Gray areas are open.

Abaft the bulkhead, two small closetlike compartments are fitted to port (Figure 188, Section C). These are the only volumes in the model we could not penetrate with fiberoptic equipment. One closet is just off the centerline and has port and starboard sides enclosed with light partitions, the rails and stiles of which are saw-pierced into a single piece of vertical-grain oak that is attached to the panels. The closet’s aft face has a similar frame, but no panel, so it is open. There may be a shelf at the height of the middle rail. The other closet tucks between the bulkhead door and the side. Its starboard side is difficult to see, but appears to be solid below and open above, giving the impression of what Americans call a Dutch door. The after side is framed with another pierced panel, the upper portion of which has a wonderful 19-millimeter circular fretwork window with six nicely rounded spokes. Looking outboard along the maindeck, we see that the inner surfaces of the sides and bulwarks have simple ceiling. A single 19-millimeter-wide strake stretches the length of the vessel between the deck and the bottoms of the gunports, and single pieces fill gaps between them. Above, wide panels extend to the deckheads fore and aft, and a single strake fills the narrow gap to the main rail in the waist. Each gunport has a lower sill, and all are dovetailed into the ceiling except those for gunports No. 1 and 8, which are butt-jointed. The ceiling is red. Above the after range of the maindeck, the quarterdeck is supported by twelve or thirteen (it was difficult to see way aft) beams like the forecastle. All the beams are square to the sheer except the one to which the upper edge of the bulkhead paneling is nailed. Every beam has a hanging knee at each end except the the last. Posts at its ends mark openings to the quarter galleries.

Gunport Ringbolts All the model’s gunports, except the chase ports, were equipped on each side with a pair of ringbolts mounted in the ceiling. The ringbolts were for gun tackles but, as the model was never armed, the ringbolts were never used. Nonetheless, they provide a great deal of visual texture. Each fitting was comprised of a simple eye bent into the end of a length of 1.15-millimeter brass wire with a separate 7- to 8.5-millimeter ring made of about 1-millimeter wire hung in the eye. Neither the eyes nor the rings were soldered closed. All the rings were brass except those on the quarterdeck, and they seemed to be iron. I can not account for the difference in the use of ferrous and

GOING ABOARD É 105 non-ferrous wires. I would have suspected that the model was originally fitted with mostly iron fittings, but those in inaccessible places seem to be brass. The axis of the hole in each pin eye was vertical so its ring would rotate through a horizontal arc (Figure 189). Ringbolts on exposed decks were more susceptible to damage and loss, so I figured the most original were below on the lower deck where Collins-era hands rarely wandered. Ringbolts on the lower deck and in the aftermost maindeck compartment were bare, and I think this was the original finish. All others are mounted on ceiling that was probably painted by Collins. He did a messy job, getting red on the ringbolts and missing spots on the ceiling behind them.

Figure 189. The arrangement of inboard gunport ringbolts.

Ringbolt sizes and distribution are listed in Tables 7 and 8. No lower deck gunport lacked all its ringbolts; only 5 percent were missing. On the maindeck, 33 percent were missing, and on the quarterdeck, 27 percent were gone. The story is worse for weather deck gunports, Table 7. which include those on the quarterdeck and the those mainOld and New Gunport Ringbolt Sizes. deck gunports in the waist and barely under the shelter of the Measurements are in millimeters. forecastle and the quarterdeck — gunports Nos. 3 through 7. Original Sizes New Sizes These lacked 45 percent. Deck

Over time, I discovered nine stray ringbolts in the bundle, on the lower decks, and in the hold. I placed the two with non-ferrous rings on the maindeck.

Eye Wire

Ring Wire

Ring OD

Eye Wire

Ring Wire

Ring OD

Quarterdeck 1.15

0.9

7.0

1.2

0.9

7.0

Maindeck

1.0

8.5

1.2

0.9

8.5

1.15

I replaced only the ringbolts accessible and on weather decks. The maindeck required twenty-five new ringbolts and the quarterdeck eleven. I made replacements all out of brass to emulate the most original ones on the lower deck. I used 1.2-millimeter wire for the eyes, and 0.9-millimeter wire for the rings. The units were installed in original holes with a little liquid hide glue. Table 8. Gunport Ringbolt Distribution.

Maximum

Present

Quarterdeck

Star

Port

Maindeck

Star

Lower Deck

10 11 12

30 34

Port

3 * 48

Star

Port

29 27% 40

29 27% 11

64 33% 40

15 62% 25

Needed

Missing

Present

Missing

Totals for Weather Decks

Present

Side

Totals for All Decks Maximum

Totals for Sides

Gunport Number from Forward

Maximum

Shaded areas are weather decks. Each * indicates an eyebolt that was present but lacked a ring. Totals and calculations are only for complete eyebolt-and-ring fittings. Table does not include lower deck chase ports. New ringbolts were only made for weather deck gunports. Underlined entries indicate fittings with ferrous rings. Other components are non-ferrous. Bold entries indicate hardware that was never painted.

Totals for Model 232 184 21% 80

44 45% 36

106 É GOING ABOARD

Staghorns In English ships they were called “staghorns” because they resembled a rack of antlers, but the Dutch called the same fittings kruishouten because they were crosses of wood. Each fitting comprised a pair of timbers, or horns, which met to form a curvaceous V. Its base was constrained to the ship’s side with a short, horizontal bolster, and its upper stems passed through a second, heftier bolster. On the maindeck, A B staghorns were mounted inside the bulwarks and served as stout belaying points for heavy lines. Most VOC models had at least one staghorn on each side of the waist bulwarks and many had two. Only den Ary, that I could see, had three. In some images C D E F staghorns can be seen on each side of the quarterdeck, also, but this area is Figure 190. Surviving original staghorns under the quarterdeck, A, were mounted on difficult to interpret through dense rigpanels spanning two hanging knees. Each horn was a separate piece and their backs ging and within the sun deck. Further, were beveled so their tops angled away from sides to make belaying easier. Onein photographs objects below decks piece Collins-era horns were bulkier in every way, B; tabs in the bottoms fit in mortises in the lower bolsters. Bolsters mounted square to the bulwarks and sloped were as good as invisible. inboard because of the tumblehome. Superimposing the horn styles, C, shows they both would fit in the same upper bolster. New staghorn bolsters are rhomboid in section, E, so they do not slope. Lower maindeck bolsters bind the beveled bottoms of horns to the bulwarks so their upper ends angle inboard for a better belay. Quarterdeck horns, F, fay entirely on the bulwark because the upper ends are above rail height; horns notch into the rails and upper bolsters are inboard extensions of them.

On Valkenisse there were, in all, five pairs (see Folding Plates 2 and 3): one on the forward forecastle rail, three on the maindeck abaft gunports No. 4, 5, and 8, and one on the quarterdeck abaft its No. 3 gunport. I believe only the pair abaft the No. 8 maindeck gunport, way under the quarterdeck, is original (Figure 190, A). The horns are mounted on a panel connecting two hanging knees between gunports No. 8 and 9. The others are Collins-era replacements made of oak, but there the consistency ends.

Figure 191, above. Horns of the quarterdeck staghorns lie against the rail and do not leave room for a line to belay properly. Figure 192, below. The Collins-era horns do not fit in original notches, shown with arrows.

Although Collins certainly saw the originals before he replanked the quarterdeck, he managed, for no apparent reason, to shape the horns quite differently for the units he installed on the and quarterdeck. See Figure 190, B. Surprisingly, the notches in the upper bolster could fit horns of either shape (Figure 190, C). In real life, I suspect the upper bolster was pierced with two mortises through which the horns could be inserted. You can see that the originals would do that, but Collins’s would not. Collins did manage to copy the old style horn on the staghorns he installed on the forecastle (Figure 204, page 110). Collins mounted the horns of the quarterdeck staghorns hard against the bulwarks, thus rendering use nearly impossible (Figures 191 and 192), and outside ancient notches in the rail cap that had certainly been made for them by the VOC modelwright. Collins’s bulwark pair had clunky bolsters (Figure 193) and, with remarkable short-sightedness, he mounted the forward two so they blocked the through-bulwark fairlead holes for the fore tacks, the

GOING ABOARD É 107 very lines they were intended to belay. By itself, Collins’s inoperable placement of at least two pairs is indication enough that he never installed running rigging on the model. To rig the model, I had, at the minimum, to remount the forward waist pair to free the fairlead holes and to rebuild the quarterdeck pair so they could actually belay lines. If I was going to remove two Collins-era pairs, I reasoned, I might as well remake all three bulwark pairs with horn shapes loyal to the concealed originals and with more shipshape bolsters. The forecastle staghorns were simply let into their supporting rail (Figure 204) rather than mortised through it, but because their horns were shaped correctly I left them alone because Collins was on the right path. The staghorns were the most geometrically challenging parts I made for Valkenisse. The shipshape aspects missing in Collins’s work were that, athwartship, the bolsters’ tops should be horizontal and their vertical faces should tumble home with the bulwarks so their cross sections form a rhombus (Figure 190, E); and the bolsters should terminate with decorative shaping. Collins’s bolsters were rectangular in section and set square to the bulwarks, so their upper surfaces sloped down and inboard (Figure 190, B), and had plain ends. Further, on contemporary models, the V’s base tucked in, close to or against the ceiling at the lower bolster, whereas at the upper bolster the horns were away from the sides by about the diameter of the line destined to belay on the staghorn. In other words, the plane of the horns tumbled home slightly more than that of the bulwarks, but Collins had spaced the horns parallel to the tumblehome. Finally, each horn must be a separate timber, but Collins had shaped them from one piece (Figure 193). (This might be the only place where he elected to use fewer pieces of wood than the VOC modelwright.)

On Valkenisse, the waist bulwarks tumble home about 18 degrees. Add to this the extra inward rake of the horns, and they actually tumble home about 28 degrees. This means that if I lifted the shape of the horns directly from an elevation drawing they would be too short when angled in, against the sides. I accounted for this when drawing patterns for the horns. On paper, I projected a staghorn elevation into a cross section so I could get correct bevels for everything. I drew left and right horns on paper, transferred them to wooden patterns, traced these on a length of pine (Figure 194), cut out the horn blanks on the scroll saw (Figure 195), and dressed the edges with abrasive burrs in the flex-shaft.

Figure 193. A Collins-era staghorn’s horns and bolsters showing the old dried glue and small pins expected to hold the fittings to the bulwarks. The horn is a single piece with vertical grain.

Figure 194, left. The horns drawn on stock. Figure 195, center. The horns cut out and dressed. Figure 196, right. The new staghorns assembled. The two pairs to the left are for the maindeck waist. The right-hand pair has thinner oak upper bolsters to match the rails on the quarterdeck.

108 É GOING ABOARD I laid up each upper bolster from two pieces of wood to avoid having to cut the complex horn mortises. The lower bolsters were single pieces. I decorated the bolster ends with the same molding I found on the ends of the large, early Dutch cradles that Valkenisse sits in (Figure 196). Rather than use a pattern, I drew and cut each end freehand so the ends would not look machined. When the staghorns were assembled, the horns are away from the ceiling about 2.5 millimeters at the top, which leaves room to belay rigging, and their lower ends are beveled to fay directly against the ceiling. I softened all edges and carefully removed all marks left by machine tools.

Figure 197. The ladder found in the bundle, left, and the Collins-era ladder, right, that connects hatches on the maindeck and quarterdeck.

VOC model evidence indicated that the horn tops of waist staghorns were generally even with the top of the main rail. I was surprised and pleased to find abandoned fastening holes that indicated Valkenisse’s original staghorns were mounted with their tops at this height. Why had Collins ignored this evidence and made them lower? Probably because he was referring to photographs of den Ary, which, uncharacteristically, has its staghorns well below the main rail. I fastened the new staghorns with liquid hide glue and slightly countersunk 0.8-millimeter pins.

Accommodation Ladders

Figure 198, above. The old cedar ladder, showing the unfinished back side and one-piece construction. Figure 199, below. The Collins-era oak ladder has separate treads and sides, or stiles.

When I first looked at Valkenisse, something about her seemed empty. There just wasn’t enough clutter, even for an unrigged model. Then I realized the model wasn’t just lacking clutter, it was lacking basic detail systems. We have been “walking” Valkenisse’s decks as if we were in the ship itself, but there was no way to get from deck to deck. There were no accommodation ladders in the waist leading from the maindeck up to the forecastle or quarterdeck, or from it to the poop deck. The only ladder we found installed on the model dated from the Collins era and connected the maindeck and quarterdeck aft on the centerline. However, when we unwrapped the parts bundle at the MFA, a second, much older ladder appeared. It was good to have, but we did not know, for certain, where in the model it belonged. When Jim Philip and I examined the hold with his fiberoptic scope, we found a full-length side, or stile, of a single-piece ladder. Although all the treads were broken, enough of each remained to show that dimensions matched the unit in the bundle. Figure 197 shows the old complete ladder next to Collins’s. Figures 198 and 199 show details of the two ladders. The old one (Figure 198) was saw-pierced from a single piece of wood. Its fairly even tread spacing varies between about 7 and 8 millimeters. Collins’s ladder (Figure 199) was built with stiles rabbeted for seven separate treads whose spacing varied more irregularly between 5.5 and 7 millimeters. The older ladder was made of a dark, close-grained softwood, that, when I scraped the underside of a tread, my nose told me was cedar. Collins’s ladder was oak. The older ladder showed irregular marks of hand-held tools like chisels and knives, and had a heavier build-up of shiny paint, but was only painted on visible surfaces. Collins’s was smoother and painted all over, but lightly. Tread thickness was about 6 millimeters in the old ladder and about 9 in the new. This 50-percent increase

GOING ABOARD É 109

Figure 200. Using a machinist’s square to transfer tread spacing from the old ladder to a cedar blank for a new one.

Figure 201. Volumes between treads were hogged out with a drill then roughly beveled with a knife.

Figure 202. Dressing the tread surfaces with a file on a jig that supports the fragile cross-grain of the cedar treads.

definitely gave the new ladder a clunkier appearance and made the treads look too close together — as if built to a different scale. The older ladder was much more in keeping with Valkenisse’s aesthetics. It reflected, once again, the tendency of earlier modelwrights to make complex structures from single pieces of wood. I decided to leave Collins’s ladder in place because it was barely visible, to reinstall the older ladder in the waist, and to use it as a pattern to make three additional ladders for the waist. This sub-project required little research because I only had to copy the existing fitting. I started with a 6.3- by 28.75-millimeter piece of red cedar. To mimic the original’s irregularity, I simply transferred the tread spacing with a square from it to the new stock (Figure 200). I removed stock between treads with a drill and jeweler’s saw (Figure 201). Tread bevels were roughed in with an X-Acto knife and finished with a 00-cut pillar file (Figure 202). I sandpapered the crisp outside edges to soften them with artificial signs of wear and age. I did not glue the ladders in place in case I needed access under the decks. Rather, I pinned them securely, but only at their upper ends. Thus, the lower ends float over the maindeck, so there is little likelihood the ladder fastenings will be stressed to failure by temperature and humidity fluctuations that might alter the distances between the decks. The original ladder is at the port extension of the quarterdeck.

The Forecastle With ladders in place, we can ascend to the forecastle. It is planked like the decks below, but with four instead of seven broad oak panels (Folding Plates 1 and 4, Figure 204). However, the surface itself is completely different. Parallel, cross-grain striations in the surface and irregular coloring indicate the oak was dressed in a modern, mechanical thickness planer and never finish sanded or scraped. (Unfortunately, this quality can not be detected in any image I have of the forecastle, but it can be just made out on the similar quarterdeck in Figures 191 and 192.) We know Collins replaced this deck,2 and he should be commended for planking it with large panels. I suspect his work included the low beakhead beam forward, its rail cap with supporting knees and staghorns, and the port and starboard rails which cover the frame heads. Collins bored the two side rails for belaying pins, but, as more were

Figure 203. The old ladder, above, compared with the new, below. Its stiles are still long for fitting to the model.

110 É GOING ABOARD needed in the area, I bored holes for four more in the forward rail between the pins for the standing knees.

Figure 204. The forecastle was rebuilt during the Collins era. It has not been refinished and shows none of the visual texture and wear of lower decks. Notice the freshly molded deck beam, and that it is not fitted with ladders, a belfry, or hardware. The staghorns are shaped like the originals under the quarterdeck and fit in notches in the rail without piercing it.

Forward of the mast, the sheet bitts have a curved crosspiece, like the bitts abaft the mainmast. Each pin has two vertical fore-and-aft false sheaves. Just abaft the mast are two knights. The smaller, firmly mounted, aft-raking one with one false sheave is to port. A larger one to starboard has three sheaves. The starboard knight appears to have been broken because the portion below the deck is old and scarfed, just below deck level, to a new portion above the deck. The knight wobbles enough to make you think it will pull out of the hull, but it is notched around a deck beam beneath and will not come free.

Belfry

Collins installed a simple margin plank across the aft end of the forecastle. He left the margin devoid of detail except for two 6- by 6-millimeter notches 24 millimeters apart in its forward edge near the centerline (Folding Plate 4). While it was true the margin was unadorned on some old VOC models, most had a belfry there, and some of these were flanked by low rails. It seemed clear that Collins planned to install a belfry and had decided, at least, on its size and location. What else would fit those notches?

Figure 205, above. The belfry and flat-domed bell on den Ary. (A149(1)l, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam)

Figure 206, above. Oostrust’s ornate belfry and round-topped bell. (AS-58-78, courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp)

Figure 207. Jonge Jacob’s belfry. (Courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp)

Remarkably, the notches tell us two other significant things: First, their location on the margin’s forward edge, rather than centered, reveals that Collins based his belfry on den Ary’s because hers was the only other VOC example so situated (Figure 205). Second, it suggests that Collins actually did communicate with Dutch sources for information, whether sketched or photographic, beyond the exchange of queries and answers in The Mariner’s Mirror because Crone’s sketches (Figure 11) do not include belfry placement.3 Initially Jonathan Fairbanks, Gerry Ward, and I were ambivalent about the belfry.4 I wrote in my log, “Collins knew a belfry should go there, but never installed one. I guess I won’t, either.” It was another

Figure 208. Bleiswijk’s belfry. (Courtesy Collection Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, the Netherlands)

Figure 209. D’ Gerechtigheid’s belfry. (Courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam)

GOING ABOARD É 111 case where I planned to not finish what he had started. Yet, whenever my eye rested on those empty notches, I felt a pang of conscience. Many running rigging lines had to belay around the forecastle, but I rationalized there were already enough places for them. In the end, though, sources revealed that several lines — the fore topsail and fore topgallant braces were the dictators — had to belay at the aft end of the forecastle. This is what the low rail was for: lines hitched directly to it, without belaying pins. If I built the rail, I had to build a belfry. Belfries were large or small, plain or fancy. Oostrust’s was too ornate and her solid rail fit against it poorly (Figure 206). Den Ary’s was also fairly ornate. Those on Jonge Jacob, Bleiswijk, and d’ Gerechtigheit (Figures 207 to 209) seemed more in keeping with Valkenisse’s aesthetic, so I extrapolated her belfry and rails from them. Bells followed two basic types, tall with round tops and squat with relatively flat tops. My design utilized Collins’s notches for the belfry, with the rail centered over the deck-edge margin, and a bell of the latter variety. Collins’s notches told me the size of the belfry and rail stanchions. The rails and moldings were patterned after others on the model. To begin, I made a pencil drawing using dimensions proscribed by the model. I sketched the curved shapes for the upper-most cross piece, the bell beam, and the bell, but, because I worked freehand, they were not port-starboard symmetrical. The computer paid off, again. I scanned the sketch to disk and, using the eraser and pencil tools in Photoshop, cleaned up the rough lines on the half of the sketch I favored. I selected and deleted the other side, from the centerline. Then I selected, copied, and horizontally flipped the preferred side, aligned the copy opposite the good side, and pasted it down. There! A symmetrical pattern for the belfry and bell (Figure 210).

Figure 210, above. The new belfry and bell for Valkenisse. Figure 211, below. Roughed-out components for the new oak belfry, stanchions, and rails in place; pegs are maple.

The new belfry, rails, and stanchions are white oak. All parts are pegged together and down, through the forecastle margin plank into the deck beam with 2-millimeter maple dowels. I did not want the structure to pull apart from rigging strains. The margin and beam are Collins-era, not original VOC parts, so I did not feel badly about boring holes in them. Figure 211 shows the components roughed out and in position. Later, the rails and belfry top were given simple moldings around their edges. The bell beam is loose and rotates. I turned the bell itself from 2.25-centimeter-diameter free machining brass rod on a Unimat 3 lathe. The bell has a separate, but immobile, clapper. When I first hung the new, polished bell, it shone like an unshaded light bulb in a dark room. I needed to tone down the finish. Paint would make it look, well, painted, and I did not want that. Brass blackeners marketed for ship modelers are neither reliable, because they can be rubbed off sometimes, nor suitable; I didn’t want the bell to be black, just subdued. I experimented with heat and found slow heating with a propane torch reduced the polish and deadened the color, and agreeably left the surface looking like brass. Thus, the bell was installed with no applied finish. The bell-crank was tapered in the flex-shaft, annealed, curled to shape with pliers, installed on the aft side of the bell beam, and garnished with a plaited linen sennit that hung down, abaft the forecastle, ready to strike the watch.

Figure 212, below. The bell with its crank and plaited sennit pull.

112 É GOING ABOARD

Figure 213. With the sun deck removed, the entire quarterdeck and the short poop deck aft can be seen. (Photograph by Christopher Morrison)

The Quarterdeck Moving across the waist, we climb another ladder to the quarterdeck. Ab Hoving quipped that the Dutch gave the deck a “linguistic upgrading” by calling it a halfdek.5 Like the model’s forecastle, the quarterdeck is planked with four broad, distinctly planer-marked Collins-era oak panels that are spiled slightly to follow the deck-edge curve (Figure 213). The deck sweeps forward and ends in an elegant curve embracing the mainmast, a configuration typical of most, if not all, contemporary VOC models.

Figure 214. The turned hardwood stanchions. The third from the left, arrow, is the slightly more refined example and may be original while all the others are probably copies by the Collins-era hand. Notice that the stanchions do not seat well in the red lower margin.

A prominent railing follows the curved forward deck edge. Collins supported it with five rectilinear posts, whose faces are decorated with shallow, hand-carved panels scribed with cross hatching like the inner surfaces of the gunport lids (see Figures 105 and 107 to 112, pages 78 and 79). Between the first and second posts on each side are eight turned wooden stanchions that are socketed into the deckedge margin below and the rail above. The stanchions are not symmetrical, end for end. The lower halves are vase-shaped and the upper are cylindrical. They all appear new, except the fifth one aft on the port side, which has a somewhat more refined shape, crisper details, and different brushwork in the finish (Figure 214). The stanchions are made from a hardwood with grain closer than oak’s. Between the second posts on each side and the centerline post are diagonal lattices exactly like those in the sun deck structure. The red deck margin and the rail were sawn from single pieces of oak; the grain of the former runs athwartship and of the latter fore and aft. A light molding was bent and glued on the rail’s forward side. Collins did not assemble the railing with precision. The posts were toenailed to the margin with small steel pins, but other parts were glued together sloppily after they were painted. Stanchions were not socketed well, top or bottom. The assembly was casually attached to the model with glue and just one feeble steel pin, near the centerline. Because the glue joint with the deck was failing, I

GOING ABOARD É 113 removed the structure, cleaned it with the enzyme technique, and carved away lots of oozed glue so the joints would appear cleaner. I reglued the rail to the quarterdeck (Figure 215) although I was concerned the glue would not be strong enough to withstand the tension of rigging, should any be belayed there, but none was on any contemporary model. I was tempted to disassemble the railing and shorten the posts and lattice panels so the turned stanchions properly fit their sockets in the margin and rail. The subsequent 2-millimeter height reduction would have made the railing more appropriate in height compared to a 1:29.3-scale Dutchman (Figure 215). Further, it would have looked like better model building. I refrained, though, because I believe Collins was on the right track with his reconstruction. Quarterdeck staghorns were easier than those below. The quarterdeck bulwarks are 13 millimeters lower than those around the maindeck so, to place the staghorns at the same height, so seamen wouldn’t have to bend too far to belay lines, the quarterdeck horns projected above the rail. This made good sense because they could then fay directly against the ceiling and seat in rail notches made there by the VOC modelwright. I cleaned up the old, worn notches where the upper bolsters and horns were to live. The port side is arranged slightly differently because, over time, the rail and notches eroded from handling, and all but one edge of one horn notch had disappeared. Because they would be finished naturally to match the oak rails, I made the two upper quarterdeck bolsters out of oak.

Figure 215. Refastening the rail to the forward end of the quarterdeck.

While removing the port quarterdeck staghorn, a strip of ceiling roughly 5 millimeters tall and 60 millimeters long came away from the frame directly under the rail cap behind the staghorn, which had been glued and nailed to it. I removed old glue and reglued the plank to the frame’s head and the top of the remaining ceiling with liquid hide glue.

Galley Smokehead We noted that the VOC modelwright cut a rectangular aperture in the maindeck just forward of the No. 7 starboard gunport and right next to the bulwark. The hole measured 20 millimeters fore and aft by 18 millimeters athwartship (Figure 216). It was directly above the forward, outboard corner of the galley. If Collins had photographs of den Ary in hand for the belfry work, he almost certainly deduced the hole was for a galley smokehead. But if he planned to install a smokehead, why did he not cut, or at least start, an aperture in the quarterdeck before he installed it? Perhaps he did not know the smokehead should extend above the quarterdeck; perhaps he did not know how to cut the aperture in the deck after it was installed; perhaps he realized a smokehead in that location, immediately adjacent to a gunport, would render impossible rigging a gun. Regardless, the aperture in the maindeck indicated the model originally had a smokehead, so I set about building one. Most early VOC models were equipped with a smokehead that was mounted near the bulwarks, rather than on the centerline. Hoving wrote that “Smokeheads were found on the maindeck and reached just above the ship’s side,”6 but he was

Figure 216. The rectangular aperture, arrow, in the starboard side of the maindeck under the forward end of the quarterdeck (Photograph by Christopher Morrison).

114 É GOING ABOARD

Figure 217. The galley smokehead on den Ary. (L356851, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam)

working with smaller, seventeenthcentury vessels. Further, those on models may actually be overstated or caricatured. Those I could see in photos were tall, extending to or above quarterdeck level. Only d’ Gerechtigheid had a smokehead that was not vertical above the uppermost deck it penetrated. After considering placement, size, and style, I decided to use den Ary’s smokehead (Figure 217) as a pattern. So, proportioning everything from photos of den Ary, I drew an elevation and construction section (Figure 218). I wanted to insure the fitting would not alter the model’s original fabric in any way, would be strong, and would look operable.

Figure 218. The galley smokehead on Valkenisse as adapted from den Ary. Shaded areas are solid cores. Molding details are shown at 2x.

I transferred the maindeck aperture location to the quarterdeck. To establish a vertical measuring reference, I held a rule against the fore end of the quarterdeck and plumbed it with a small spirit level. I picked off the aperture’s distance abaft the rule with dividers, marked the distance on the quarterdeck, and made another mark 20 millimeters further aft. To maximize the width for men to pass along the narrow quarterdeck and knowing smokeheads were vertical, I dropped a line from the edge of the bulwark to the quarterdeck for the new aperture’s outboard limit. As the quarterdeck was made by Collins, I did not feel badly about altering it. I masked the original maindeck hole so my sawdust would not fall into the galley as others’ had, hogged out the quarterdeck oak with a drill in the flex-shaft, and filed the aperture’s edges smooth (Figure 219). Unfortunately, clear passage of a 20-millimeterlong smokehead would be interrupted, on the aft side, by a hanging knee. It was a 2-millimeter problem. The

Figure 219, near right. The old aperture in the maindeck and the new aperture in the quarterdeck. Figure 220, center right. The first segment cut to length slightly below quarterdeck level. Figure 221, far right. All the segments with their moldings.

GOING ABOARD É 115 solution was to put an 18-millimeter-square fitting in the 20- by 18-millimeter aperture. This was perfect, because smokeheads were square, anyway, to facilitate shifting the scooped head to create the best draft for the galley cookfire. In Figures 217 and 44, page 36, the top of den Ary’s smokehead faces different ways. To make the smokehead removable, I made it in sections. I ripped a pine timber to fit the deck apertures (Figure 220). The lowest, ‘tween-deck section tumbled home sharply, so its outer, lower edge was beveled to fay against the maindeck aperture’s outer edge. The section was cut to rise just half-way through the quarterdeck. This kept the ‘tween-deck section in place and provided seating for the mid-section, the bottom of which fayed against the one below and was registered to it with a 3-millimeter brass peg in a manner described by W. Kelley Hannan.7 The mid-section was solid, but I wanted the top section hollow, so I paneled it around a short core. Molding shapes were adapted from den Ary, where I could see them. I kept others simple. I roughed them out on the Preac saw and finished them with chisels, gouges, and files. Rather than struggling to miter corners, I lapped them. They are secure and painted. Moldings around the maindeck aperture prevent the ‘tween-deck section from slipping into the galley and conveniently conceal the 2-millimeter gap left when I made the smokehead square. Unfortunately, the maindeck moldings prevented removal of the ‘tween-deck section. To remedy this, I cut the section about 5 millimeters below the underside of the quarterdeck and added that length to the bottom of the mid-section. This was trickier than it sounds, but the brass peg kept the parts aligned. To protect the fitting, I did not join the sections permanently on the model until rigging was complete. Hoving felt the new smokehead looked too tall8 but he saw it in a snapshot before the extension to the maindeck pinrail was installed and before the model was rigged. Both additions helped reduce apparent height of the new smokehead. In the end, though, I agree it is a little overstated. É The first centerline feature abaft the open range of the quarterdeck is the 38- by 80-millimeter hatch opening covered with a grating positioned directly over the grating in the maindeck. The latter, remember, is flush with its deck, but this one lays on the deck surface and is surrounded by a mitered coaming (Figures 222 and 224). The fore-and-aft coaming elements taper in width for no reason I could see, and round down slightly toward their outer edges. The grating slats are only 3millimeters wide and the grid has 2-millimetersquare holes. In Figure 222. The aft end of the weather portion of the quarterdeck with the sun deck removed. The Collins-era staghorns are still in place. The railing stanchions are the same as those forward, but are the other way up. The descending ladder is the upper right example in Figure 197.

116 É GOING ABOARD other words, this grating is far finer than the maindeck’s and was clearly made either by someone else or with something else in mind. My guess is the maindeck grating was made by the VOC modelwright or the British hand, and the quarterdeck grating was made by Collins, who knew how to make the fittings more in scale, although not in keeping with the model’s aesthetic. The grating had been glued in its coaming, but, after cleaning it, I replaced it dry so that it could be removed easily, if necessary.

Figure 223, above. The grating has been removed from the mitered hatch coaming and the coaming itself and railing from the companionway. The mizzenmast hole is visible below, on the maindeck. Notice the standard hatch coaming on the maindeck. Figure 224, below. The underside of the grating in Figure 222.

Abutting the aft grating molding is a standard hatch with a 38by 40-millimeter opening (Figure 222). Unlike those below, the coaming is a single piece of saw-pierced oak. This is actually a ladder way. A railing surmounts the coaming on the forward, after, and port sides and is open to starboard where the Collins-era ladder descends to the maindeck. Ten stanchions match those at the forward end of the quarterdeck, but the turnings were installed the other way up. See Figure 214, page 112. The mitered rail is relatively delicate and looks just like modern household stairway bannister; it is so crisply made, I wondered if was commercially available stock Collins was taking advantage of. Coaming, stanchions, and railing form a unit, built square to each other, stained a uniform dark color, and simply placed on the deck with glue and a single pin. Collins pinned the upper ends of the ladder’s stiles to the deck beams on either side of the hatch opening; it is red. I removed the coaming-railing assembly, carved away hardened, failed glue, and reglued the assembly on deck. Abaft the ladder way is the 21-millimeter hole for the mizzenmast. Other contemporary VOC models and books indicates that, at Valkenisse’s time, the presence of a small knight near the mizzen was fading. There might have been one here, but Collins did not provide one, and it would have been difficult for me to. This is also the likely location for a steering station, whether a steering wheel or a small eyebrow-like skylight over a whipstaff, but both are completely absent. An oaken fitting called a “kevel” is mounted on each bulwark just forward of the quarterdeck’s No. 5 gunport (Figure 225). On Valkenisse, the kevels’ heels are cradled in small, metal, cup-like brackets; the kevels are fitted with vertical, foreand-aft false sheaves, and their heads are shaped for belaying lines. They are old and worn and must be original.

The Sun Deck Figure 225. The small kevel on the bulwark. This fitting, the bulwark ceiling, the ringbolts, and the gilling are the only original parts in the image.

About 19 centimeters of the quarterdeck’s length is spanned by the sun deck (Figure 9, page 10). The sun deck is open, and beneath it would be breezy and shady. On Valkenisse, the sun deck begins within the main rigging, covers the after hatch and ladder way, and ends just forward of the mizzenmast, although on many VOC retourschepen, the mast penetrated the light-duty structure. It is supported on each side by four 6-millimeter-square posts and cambered 6-millimeter beams. The posts are perpendicular to the keel and tumble home with the bulwarks. Because the first and third pairs of posts are not over gunports, they are mortised 16 and 26 millimeters deep, respectively, in the rail cap and bulwarks. The second and fourth pairs are mortised only about 4 and 7 millimeters because they are over gunports. Bays between the posts are fitted with diagonally worked lattices

GOING ABOARD É 117 (Figure 226) like the rail at the forward end of the quarterdeck. Above the lattices, a molding is fitted around the structure. The sun deck is decked simply with panels, like other Collins-era decks, and has a small scuttle on each side (Folding Plate 1). The scuttles may have been for access to the sun deck or for viewing sails on the mainmast. The mortises in the rail for the first three pairs of sun deck stanchions, and for the fourth one on the starboard side, are in original, or at least old, wood. The fourth port-side socket is in a replacement section of rail. I would judge from this evidence that the VOC modelwright equipped Valkenisse with a sun deck. However, the structure on the model today was entirely fabricated by the Collins-era hand. There is no residual paint in the oak’s grain, the lattices are made with modern strip wood much finer than that found on older parts of the model, and there are marks from circular-motion tools on the posts and the underside of the decking. I suspect that when Collins acquired Valkenisse, the sun deck was smashed or missing, and I tend toward the latter because the British hand would have found no British precedent for the structure and probably tossed it. We know Collins referred to the Padmos/Blydorp and den Ary models.9 The former’s sun deck is different from Valkenisse’s, but the latter’s is similar. My conclusion is that Collins used den Ary as a source. The sun deck’s exterior is finished in dark, natural oak, moldings are painted yellow, and the interior is washed with a green which does not cover well and which looks much like an application of the modern wood preservative Cuprinol. Valkenisse’s sun deck had been nailed and glued together and was in reasonable condition, but the glue was failing so joints had loosened up. It was flexible enough to be removed easily from its bulwark sockets. Three of the six lattices had come adrift. I removed old glue from them and their seating surfaces, reglued them, and also reglued other loose joints with liquid hide glue. I was somewhat anxious that the reglued fixture would not flex enough to reseat in its sockets, but such worry proved unwarranted.

The Poop Deck About 26 centimeters of the quarterdeck’s after end is enclosed under the poop deck or coach roof, and behind a bulkhead (Figure 213, page 112). On the bulkhead, which rakes forward strongly (Folding Plate 3), pilasters like those on the maindeck bulkhead (Figure 188, page 104) bracket a single centerline doorway. But, up here, they are fancier and the door opening is arched and fitted with a pair of hinged doors that open aft (Figure 227). A 10-millimeter-wide molding decorates the top of the bulkhead panels, and a 23- by 28-millimeter elliptical window admits light on either side. Between the two windows, the compartment inside is divided by a second athwartship bulkhead (Figure 228), the model’s simplest. It is comprised of a single panel on either side of an

Figure 226. The sun deck from outboard after rigging was completed. (Photograph by Peter Hickey)

Figure 227, above. Section B from Folding Plate 3. Looking aft at the port side of the bulkhead under the forward end of the poop deck. The gray area is a glazed window. The starboard side is the same. Figure 228, below. Section A from Folding Plate 3. Looking aft at the starboard side of the bulkhead under the poop deck and between the windows in the vertuining. The gray area is open. The port side is the same.

118 É GOING ABOARD unadorned, doorless opening. This bulkhead is perpendicular to the deck’s sheer, but, even so, rakes forward less than its neighbor ahead. The spaces under the poop deck on VOC vessels were kamers and hutten, or compartments for the captain, officers, and surgeon.10 The poop deck has about 1.7 centimeters of camber in a half-breadth of about 12 centimeters, or about twice as much as the other decks. It is supported by six deck beams that mold 7.5 and side 11 millimeters, the same as the maindeck beams below, but there are no hanging knees. There are no ladders to the poop deck from the quarterdeck, but this seems standard on other VOC models. Valkenisse’s poop itself is new wood, like Collins’s others. Its forward edge is decorated with a railing saw-pierced with floral motifs rounded on the forward side, but flat on the after side. The carvings do not match or really resemble other examples on Valkenisse at all, and, in fact, look out of place. The railing stands about 18 millimeters over the deck, about half as tall as the 40-millimeter railing at the quarterdeck break, and only knee-high on a 1:29.3scale Dutchman. The railing was attached to the poop deck margin with only three or four short steel modern pins that provided little reason for it to stay where it belonged. Add to this that the cambers of the deck and the railing did not match, and its reasons for becoming loose were amplified. I removed the railing; cleaned out the old pin holes; bored holes for new pins in its bottom edge where the scrolls made contact with the deck-edge margin; deepened and bored new receiving holes in the Figure 229. Clamping the poop deck rail with a timber inserted margin, deck, and beam beneath; inserted much longer through nearby gunports and two long pieces tucked under the rail pins; and glued the rail securely in place (Figure 229). at the stern. The long pieces are levers that enhance the clamps' action and provide the correct direction of compression on the joint. Now, even if the glue fails, the longer and more numerThey are also cauls to protect the rail. A piece of oaktag under each ous pins will keep the rail positioned. There is no strain clamp protects the quarterdeck. on it from rigging. A knee was erected at the very stern, against the inboard face of the taffrail (Figure 349, page 178), to support the ensign staff. The knee may be old, but, on each side, a new horizontal bench-like rail extends to the sides. I suspect it was added by Collins.

The Lower Deck We will now examine the interior of the model. No one who has worked on it ever installed a way for seamen to descend below the maindeck to the lower deck, which is the lowest complete full-length deck. It is gloomy here. However, the gunports are larger than those on the maindeck, so I could observe and measure with more powerful lighting. The deck had considerably less sheer than the three lower wales immediately outboard. Structurally, things are about the same as on the maindeck above, but heavier. Deck planking strakes are similar to the maindeck’s. I did not get their precise widths, but they are about 5 millimeters thick. The binding strakes’ inner edges define the main hatch. The twenty-seven oak deck beams supporting the maindeck mold 12.5 and side 14 millimeters. Surprisingly, there is a 92-millimeter gap in the center of

GOING ABOARD É 119 maindeck beam No. 8 (Folding Plate 4); the ends are under the maindeck binding strakes, and the beam is between lower deck gunports No. 3 and 4. I wonder if there was once a hatch there. Hanging knees side about 8 millimeters (Folding Plate 3), but are absent from beams No. 4, 13, 15, 16, 20, and 21. Twelve beams, Nos. 1, 2, 9 through 12, 16 through 20, and 22, are braced with 7- by 8-millimeter centerline pillars. Some are vertical and some rake, but all have their edges decorated with 1-millimeter stopped chamfers. Between gunports No. 1 and 2, the lower deck is partitioned by an athwartships bulkhead comprised of three 4millimeter-thick oak panels nailed to the after side of a deck beam and a 6- by 6-millimeter square deck stringer. The panels are fitted around the inner edges of the beam’s hanging knees (Figure 230). The first feature abaft the stem is the foremost of the deck’s six standard hatches. It is about 30- by 34-millimeters and, lacking any coaming, nearly went unnoticed. The foremast hole is next, followed by the heels of the riding bitts. I could not determine how, or even if, the bitts’ heels were fastened to the deck. We exit aft through doorways on each side jambed for operable, single-piece doors hung on ferrous metal staples. Regrettably, hinges for one door have broken entirely. It is loose, but present. I wanted to rehang it with new hardware, but access was simply too awkward. A standard hatch measuring 35 by 56 millimeters opens about 4 centimeters abaft the bulkhead and directly under the fore hatch.

Figure 230, above. Section F from Folding Plate 3. Looking aft on the starboard side at the bulkhead crossing the lower deck between gunports No. 1 and 2. The port side is the same. Notice the maindeck binding strake let down into the deck beam. The gray area is open.

The range of the deck stretches aft to the main hatch, the largest of the deck’s seven hatches. Its 64- by 90-millimeter opening is framed with a 9- by 11-millimeter coaming. The after element of the coaming projects slightly outboard of the side elements, and its after face abuts a 6-millimeter pad mortised for the heels of the sheet bitt pins and raggedly Figure 231. Section E from Folding Plate 3. Looking forward on pierced for the mainmast. Abaft the pad, the heel of the the starboard side at the bulkhead crossing the lower deck beknight is secured, but I do not know how. Next is a 33- by tween gunports No. 10 and 11. The port side is the same. The 52-millimeter standard hatch, followed by the heavy 14- by timber at the base of the centerline opening is the bolster for the mizzenmast step. Notice the dovetailed lintel over the doorway. 44- by 80-millimeter capstan bolster and another 32- by 50- The gray areas are open. millimeter standard hatch. Then, rather than descending to the keel, the mizzenmast steps on the lower deck on a large bolster like the capstan’s, only this one, at 13 by 31 by 71 millimeters, is somewhat smaller. Its ends are rounded and it sides tumble home. The 12-millimeter-square heel mortise is in the bolster’s forward half, and the aft half is traversed by a bulkhead nailed to the forward side of a beam and stringer (Figure 231). Its 5- by 5-millimeter framing is configured for, but not equipped with, doors and defines a low opening over the bolster on the centerline. Upper ends of framing components halve into the deck beam, and lintel panels are dovetailed into their neighbors. The short posts abreast the centerline opening rake aft because they fit entirely under the short horizontal beam above, but only half-notch over the deck stringer; they provide no support for the bulkhead paneling.

120 É GOING ABOARD The last two standard hatches are in the compartment abaft the bulkhead. The forward one’s opening measures 27 by 26 millimeters and has a coaming, the after one’s aperture has no coaming and measures 30 by about 45 millimeters. Heavy horizontal quarter knees siding about 18 millimeters fay to the deck and are built into each quarter. The outboard legs stretch forward to hanging knees just forward of the No. 12 gunports. Above, a much lighter horizontal knee extends forward only to the beam abaft the gunport. Other details in the after compartment were too shadowy to describe with certainty. The interiors of the sides are similar to those on the maindeck. However, the gunports all have upper as well as lower sills and all are fitted with square-cut joints instead of dovetails. Further, above the ceiling and below the underside of the maindeck, there is a 6-millimeter salt or ventilation gap which was not found on the deck above. The maindeck beams are notched about half their height onto the top edge of the upper ceiling strake, which is about 2 millimeters thicker than the panels between the gunports. The salt gap is the only place on the model where, for most of the hull’s length, the framing is visible (Folding Plate 3). In the drawing, inter-frames spaces are shown as black areas. It appears that some frames are single, some are double, and spacing between is irregular. This would be consistent with skin-first construction.

Figure 232. The molding found in the hold that belongs along the base of the starboard galley partition.

The ship’s galley and the officers’ pantry are the most prominent lower dec features. They are built against the sides abreast the mainmast. They are the same on both sides, except the pantry, to port, has a small opening, like a passthrough, in the inboard panel and the galley has a vertical slot in the same position. The compartments are irregularly hexagonal, if you count the ship’s sides (Folding Plate 4). Oak panels enclose four of the five sides, the fifth, at the after inboard corner, is fitted with jambs for doors. I could not tell if the latter had been fitted and are missing or had never been included. The after sides fit around the lower, curved edges of hanging knees. The size of the cooking compartments is delineated by two non-adjacent deck beams and the beam between crosses the spaces. There is no detailing inside either compartment. The panels are framed at the deck with 8-millimeter quarter-round oak molding nailed in place. The forward, inboard section for the starboard compartment was missing when I surveyed the model, but turned up in the hold during the fiberoptic investigation (Figure 232). Two stumps of ferrous, probably iron, fasteners protruded from it, it measured about 22 millimeters long, and its ends were mitered at roughly 221/ 2 degrees. When I checked the fit, the fastener stumps seated happily in their sockets, but the metal had corroded so they no longer held the piece in place, so I glued it with liquid hide glue.

The Hold The hold’s interior was difficult to examine and impossible to measure with the tools at hand. I had wanted to inspect the place surface-by-surface fiberoptically, but time was short, and I could not measure things with the scope, anyway. The hold’s most visible feature is the keelson, but it can only be seen for a short distance (Figure 233). It sides about 18 millimeters. Directly under the

GOING ABOARD É 121 main hatch, a large hole goes right through the keelson and keel to the exterior of the ship. I never measured it, but it is probably about 7 millimeters in diameter. It may have been used for a mounting pedestal or bolt. The only other visible keelson feature is the mainmast’s heel mortise, one side of which had split away from the keelson itself. The foremast step, on the other hand, was in a heavy rider that stretched across the hold.

B C

D E

The limber gap between keelson and ceiling is about 4 to 6 millimeters wide, and, through it, you can see the heels of what appear to be single, or unsistered, frames sided roughly 14 millimeters and positioned on more or less regular centers. Abreast the limbers, the broadly straked, but otherwise featureless ceiling rises until it reaches a thicker strake, the clamp for the koebrugge beams. The koebrugge was called, in English ships, the orlop deck. In Valkenisse’s time, the koebrugge “consisted of structural beams with rabbets in which planks for the orlop could be placed” and was for stowing things “that had to remain dry.” Thus, it was not a fixed surface, like the maindeck, but a system of beams and platforms that could be arranged to suit changing stowage requirements in the hold. Hoving explained that the word “koebrugge” probably had an “agrarian origin,” suggesting that a farmer wanting to move cows from one field to another across a ditch might place “two beams over the ditch and put planks over them,” making a “temporary bridge.” “This comes too close . . . to be accidental.”11

Figure 233. Looking down the main hatch. The red coaming, A, is on the maindeck. Framing for the lower deck, B, and orlop, C, can be seen. The large timber at the bottom is the keelson, D; the hole in it passes through to the outside of the model. In the limber gap, E, the heels of the frames, F, can be seen.

Valkenisse’s orlop is represented by only a few deck beams. Two pair bracket the main hatch and let down a couple of millimeters onto the clamp. These are shown in Figure 234. Above the orlop deck clamp, the lack of ceiling exposes framing up to the next longitudinal timber, the clamp for the lower deck beams. These mold 12 and side 19 millimeters. They let down on the clamps a couple of millimeters, and are not centered over the orlop beams. There are only a few

Figure 234. Port side framing in the hold adjacent to the main hatch looking outboard, forward is to the right. The clamps are slightly thicker than the ceiling. Shaded areas are in-board surfaces of hull planking. This sketch is not to scale.

122 É GOING ABOARD hanging knees in the hold. One supports each end of the two lower deck and two orlop beams adjacent to the main hatch, but all eight of these knees hang far down on the ceiling. There is a similar structure under the fore hatch, and there are knees, but no beams, under the after hatch. Because of extreme viewing angles, I did not even attempt schematic drawings of the structures in the vessel’s ends. Between the lower deck and orlop beams on the aft side of the main hatch stands a sturdy pillar, the forward side of which was cut away to leave four ladderlike steps (Figure 235).

Figure 235. Ladder steps carved into the forward face of the pillar between the orlop and lower deck beams on the aft side of the main hatch.

Notes 1

Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957).

Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., “Queries, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 96.

G.C.E. Crone, “Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 154.

Jonathan Fairbanks and Gerry Ward, interview with author, 19 March 1999.

Hoving, letter to author, 20 May 1999.

Hoving, e-mail to author, 13 October 1999.

W. Kelley Hannan, “Through-Deck Fittings,” Nautical Research Journal 43:3 (September 1998), p. 173.

Hoving, e-mail to author, 13 October 1999.

Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., letter to J. Templeman Coolidge, 28 October 1928.

10 Jerzy Gawronski, Bas Kist, and Odilia Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, HOLLANDIA Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers b.v., 1992), pp. 23, 24. 11 Hoving, letter to author, 20 May 1999.

Part 9 SPARRING We have paid scant attention to the bundle of parts that McLanathan referred to1 and that Jeannine Falino found in Wicke’s Basement at the MFA. We have mentioned isolated objects but not its bulk — Valkenisse’s machinery, her sparring and rigging. I knew the lower masts and bowsprit fit their steps in the model, and I knew I could tentatively step one topmast. I assumed other spars would find their places, but did not know so. I knew there were some old, I assumed original, blocks and deadeyes and a host of new ones. I knew the newer parts had never been used on the model so were not truly of it. I sensed they did not possess the visual weight, textures, or age of original parts, and understood they shared a tendency found on many old models that have been reconditioned by modern workmen: New parts might be fashioned more truly to scale, but they do not match the hand of the original builder. I had thought the extra time unexpectedly consumed by hull components, like the accommodation ladders and gunport frames, would be made up when I started work on the rig. I had planned to re-use the bundle’s spars without modification, where possible, and to repair them or copy them, where necessary. I had only to follow paths blazed by contemporary VOC models and by author-modelers who had worked on similar projects, like R.C. Anderson and G.C. Dik. With all the parts in hand, I mumbled the ship modeler’s mantra: How hard can it be? Serious study of the bundled parts in early 2001 shattered any confidence that sparring would be simple. The first clue I received from the evidence was that were insufficient spars to fill out the rig. The second was that large inconsistencies between spar details and fittings refuted beyond doubt that all the parts were from a single source. As I learned more about Dutch practices, the more sharply I realized many parts were not uniformly Dutch enough to credit to the original VOC modelwright. I realized that, although the three major components that provided the rig’s foundation, the main and fore lower masts and the bowsprit, probably dated from early in the eighteenth century, there was no guarantee they survived unmodified until late in the twentieth. Alterations had changed their nature, nationalistically.

Evidence and Conclusions One We knew from the beginning that the mainmast, foremast, and bowsprit (Figure 236) fit the model perfectly. Their tenoned heels snuggled into mortised steps deep within the

Figure 236. From the left, the mainmast, foremast, and bowsprit as they came with the model. Arrows show a few examples of wooldings. The scale on the right is marked in 10centimeter increments.

124 É SPARRING ship. While I could not date them with surety, these three principal spars shared visual and textural qualities with original portions of the model fashioned by the VOC modelwright. On Valkenisse’s main and fore lower masts, the hounds have Dutch shapes and chamfering. The trestletrees seemed old but were strangely fitted with three crosstrees. I could not find reference to more than two in any source for British or Dutch vessels. I concluded that the VOC modelwright made these two masts, their hounds, and possibly their trestletrees. However, I have no theory about why there was the unusual third crosstrees on the two principal masts or who might have been responsible for them. The bowsprit is also original because it matches the work of the hand who made the two lower masts.

Two At first look, the mastheads were square in British fashion and showed tool marks that indicated shaping had been done out of the normal mast building

Figure 237, right. The fore masthead with the canvas boot covering the eyes of the rigging. It appears that the masthead is square for its entire length. Figure 238, far right. The main masthead with the boot removed. The head is round within the eyes of the rigging and the transition from round to square is irregularly cut and painted.

sequence. Each mast was rigged with shrouds whose eyes around the masthead were concealed under a canvas boot (Figure 237). When I removed the boots and shrouds, I discovered that the mastheads within them were stoutly round, in Dutch fashion (Figure 238). I found no evidence in the literature that vessels of any nation had mastheads with two shapes between the trestletrees and the caps. I concluded the mastheads had been made round by the VOC modelwright, and that the later British hand had squared them above the rigging eyes.

Three Valkenisse’s maintop and foretop were distinctly D-shaped, with the round part forward, and had softly curved sides and after edges (Figure 239). In the period preceding Valkenisse, VOC tops were generally round in plan view, and afterward they acquired the D shape, although the aft edge was probably straight. In actual practice, tops were constructed of layers of planking, but on Valkenisse, as

SPARRING É 125 on many ship models, each platform is represented by a single piece of wood, in this case oak. To reinforce a top’s planking, klampen, or top timbers or ribs, were fitted to its upper surface and radiated from the lubber holes, or central openings. To be effective, each timber was made from a single piece of wood and hooked over the top’s integral perimeter rim. On contemporary VOC models, they roughly resembled single-piece gaff jaws (Figure 240, A), but Valkenisse’s extant top timbers were each built up of three segments of 1- by 6-millimeter stripwood (Figure 240, B). They were badly glued to the tops and were falling off. The maintop and foretop each had twenty threepiece timbers. On the main, ten segments of sixty were missing and eight pieces came adrift while I worked. The fore lacked eighteen pieces of sixty and five were loose. Several top timbers covered holes for crowsfeet or were so close to futtock plate mortises that the plates could not seat properly. Collins left these mainmast and foremast components painted with a flat, thin, and finely ground black paint. However, the paint adhered poorly and could be rubbed away easily. This black paint covered everything, but was not under the stripwood top timbers (Figure 239). Beneath the black paint, the surface of the top had been incompletely scraped clean of white paint, which was still in the oak’s pores. I concluded that the existing top timbers were not original because they were installed over where white paint had been scraped away and because they covered important openings. Because all other contemporarily rigged VOC models had top timbers and Valkenisse’s tops had no indications of an earlier generation of them under the black paint, I concluded the tops themselves were not original. Had they been, they would likely have been round. I suspect they were British additions either made for the model or, more likely, scavenged from some old parts bin and considered close enough to not be challenged later by Collins, who, understanding top timbers should be present, added the quickie stripwood versions and painted everything black.

Four There were five mast caps in the bundle. All were connected to specific spars. Only two were of the ezelshoofd, or donkey’s head,2 type of humped cap* (Figure 241)

Figure 239, above. The maintop showing its D shape with a curved after edge. About fifteen segments of the flat, stripwood top timbers are missing; their absence reveals that the black paint was applied after these timbers. The rim is damaged where futtock plates have broken out. Figure 240, below. A sectional view of a top platform showing a proper single-piece sculpted top timber, A, and a poor replacement top timbermade of three pieces of dimensioned stripwood, B. This is not to scale.

* Although humped caps were used in other countries, “ezelshoofd” is so characteriscally Dutch that I preserve its use rather than translating it to “donkey’s head” or “humped cap.”

Figure 241, far left. A traditional Dutch ezelhoofd on den Ary. (A149(l)a, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam) Figure 242, center. The flat cap on a spar possibly intended to be Valkenisse’s fore topmast. Figure 243, near left. A flat cap on a topgallant mast. Workmanship on this cap differs from that in Figure 242.

126 É SPARRING that was typical of the Netherlands, and some other nations, but not Britain. The two Dutch ezelshoofden were integral to the sprit topmast system. The other three caps were flat on top, British-fashion (Figures 242 and 243). The largest rode around what appeared to be the fore topmast (Figure 242) and fit the tenon on the foremast head satisfactorily, if not perfectly. The other two British caps were attached to smaller spars, possibly intended to be topgallant masts. The masts with the flat caps could not pass through the cap holes because of thicknessing in both their upper and lower ends. I concluded the British hand was intending to adapt these mast and cap units to Valkenisse from some other model or models. Thus, they are not original.

Five The mizzenmast was newer than the mainmast and foremast. If the latter were in their old age, the former was approaching mid-life. Its surfaces and edges were fairly clear of dings and scrapes, and it fit the Collins-era quarterdeck mast hole and the mortised step on the lower deck nicely. It appeared to be made of different wood than the mainmast and foremast. There were no hounds, Figure 244, above. The starboard side of the mizzen- but the upper portion was left four-square to support trestletrees mast head. A stopped chamfer, arrow, indicates the lower limit of hounds that that were not fitted by the (Figure 244). The mast was equipped with shrouds of the same time earier rigging began. material as those on the mainmast and foremast, but lighter in weight, and there was no canvas boot. A third, smaller top (Figure Figure 245, below. The top that the British hand probably intended for the mizzenmast. While basically D- 245) in the bundle was also D-shaped and oak, but its sides and shaped, the aft edge is straight, but the forward edge after edge were straight. It never had top timbers, had some hardof the lubber hole is rounded. The trestletrees are secure to the underside, it has never been painted ware but no rigging, and had once been painted white but never black, and there have never been any top timbers. black. It had trestletrees fastened to its underside with stumpy ferrous nails and fit the mizzen masthead roughly but not comfortably. It matched no other parts in finish or workmanship. I concluded that, because it wore British-era shrouds, the mizzenmast had been made by the British hand. He had scavenged the smaller, mismatched top from somewhere, but neither he nor Collins had progressed to marrying it to the mast.

Six The bowsprit itself precisely matched the wood and workmanship of the main and fore lowers. It had a few wooden and metal fittings and indications of others, now missing. The sprit top and topmast, however, told a different story. They seemed to be completely new, perhaps the newest items associated with Valkenisse, and of the Collins era. The sprit top (Figure 246) had nearly the same proportions as the maintop and foretop, although it was slightly more rounded. It was fitted with top timbers, and included a slim, applied wooden edging or band around the margin. While these top timbers were solidly of the Dutch style, the edging was less so. It was found on only some other contemporary VOC models. The sprit knee and Figure 246. The Collins-era sprit top mimics the maintop and foretop that came with the model, but the top timbers are shaped more authentically. Notice the narrow edging or band, arrow, outside the top timbers.

SPARRING É 127 sprit topmast were capped with proper humped Dutch caps, the only two that came with the model (Figure 247). These components were painted a semi-gloss black that differed from the flat black elsewhere. I concluded that Collins made a new sprit topmast, patterned its top after the older maintop and foretop, and made the proper ezelshoofden after learning more about them, perhaps from Crone. I do not know why he included the thin edging piece around the top. É Review of the evidence and conclusions tells this story: The main and fore lower masts and bowsprit are original to the model. There is no way to tell who was responsible for the third crosstree on each mast or why it was there. The British hand had scavenged cast-off tops from somewhere, rigged shrouds, covered their eyes with canvas boots to camouflage his masthead shape change, and prepared or scavenged topmasts with British caps. He also made the new mizzenmast, rigged it with shrouds, and planned to equip it with an unrelated top. The bowsprit is original, but the sprit top, topmast, and caps, which all display proper Dutch characteristics, were added by Collins. My goal was to make fittings as uniform as possible and to preserve the work of others when they were on the right track. I could live with two patterns of top on the model, but not three. Consequently, I decided to use the maintop and the foretop. They were plausible, if not perfect, and perhaps somewhat too modern in shape. I decided to replace the bad top timbers with Dutch-style fittings, to make a new mizzentop to match the maintop and foretop, to make all new Dutch ezelshoofden, and to remove the applied edging from the sprit top. I considered graving pieces onto the upper, four-square parts of the main and fore mastheads so they could be shaped round again, but, in the end, decided not to.

Lower Masts and Bowsprit The mainmast, foremast, and bowsprit as they came from the bundle were woolded, or wrapped at intervals with line called wooldings (Figure 236). Wooldings reinforced these three spars, but were not found on the mizzenmast or elsewhere. Dutch ships usually had fewer wooldings than English ones; Dutch wooldings were usually narrower than English ones.3 Valkenisse’s are Dutch in number but English in size, so I made no guess about their origin and left them in place with no modification. I also found on these spars a few metal eyebolts and blocks. When I thought the fittings had no application in the Dutch scheme of things, that is, when I thought they might have been part of the British retro-fit, I left the eyebolts, but removed anything attached to them like thimbles, blocks, or rigging residue (Figure

Figure 247, left. The sprit topmast assembly was made by Collins and has the only two ezelshoofds that came in the bundle.

128 É SPARRING 251). This left traces of the British hand, but did not assert Dutch-ness to the fittings. The undersides of the maintop and foretop had several of these eyes.

Figure 248. A top view of the rod catharpins in the main shrouds. Forward is to the right, starboard is down. The ferrous rods are about 1.5 millimeters in diameter and are hooked over the futtock staffs, outside the service, with two types of hooks as shown. See Figure 249, below.

The spars required more than stylistic corrections. I began with the mainmast by removing the gang of shrouds from the masthead. To do so, I unhooked the ferrous rods that were serving as catharpins. The arrangement of these rods relative to each other and to the shrouds is shown in Figure 248. The hooks were shaped in two ways and the scheme was the same on the foremast. I wondered about the crossed rods, but the arrangement was explained by Petrejus: “In the British merchant service so-called ‘cross-catharpins’ had just then [in the late eighteenth century] come into use. They were additional legs, taken crosswise above the other legs, one eye being seized to the aftermost shroud on one side, the other to the formost [sic] one opposite.”4 If, in this quote, you replaced the word “seize” with “hook,” you will have the arrangement that came with Valkenisse. This is more evidence of the British hand. With the rigging and top removed, it was difficult to know which end of the trestletrees faced forward until I found the areas abraded by the topmast fid. The trestletrees were notched for three crosstrees. A significant bit of wood had splintered from the starboard trestletree between the middle and aftermost crosstree notches (Figure 249, A). I smoothed the break to the level of the notches’ bottoms, identified the trestletrees as oak, fit a new oak graving piece, fastened it with liquid hide glue, and faired it to shape (Figure 250). I found some worm evidence in this trestletree at the bolster’s location.

Figure 249, above. The mainmast. Arrow A shows the splintered away area of the starboard trestletree; arrow B, the break in the after crosstree. The forward crosstree was attached to the top. The middle crosstree was missing. Figure 250, below. The trestletree has been repaired, a new port end has been scarfed onto the after trestletree, a new middle trestletree and starboard bolster have been made and installed. The wide notches in the crosstree are for the repair panels on the underside of the top.

The starboard bolster had been missing for sometime, I knew, because its seat on the top of the trestletree had been painted with what appeared to be the area’s oldest generation of paint. The port bolster, as well as both foremast bolsters, were present, though, so I copied them to make a new starboard one of oak and fastened it with liquid hide glue. I did not use pins because the trestletrees were already suffering from fastening sickness. Further, as bolsters are always under compression, they would stay put once rigging was added. A fragment of the port hounds, inboard of the bolster, was split away but present. I glued it in place. Only two main crosstrees were present and something less than half of the aftermost was missing. It was broken at the port trestletree (Figure 249, B). I removed the remaining section, though nails fastening it were rusty and tenacious; prepared the break for scarfing on new stock with a simple slash joint; identified the old wood as something light in color and close-grained, like maple; made a new maple end; fastened it in place with glue and two 1.6-millimeter-diameter brass pins; dressed the new extension to shape; notched it for the trestletree; and bored a hole so the old

SPARRING É 129 Figure 251, left. Underside of the maintop showing panels, arrows, applied to stabilize splits. Blocks will be removed, but eyebolts will remain. Figure 252, right. Graving a repair piece into the rim of the top where a futtock plate had been pulled through the wood.

fastener, stuck in the trestletree, would hold the new timber. The second surviving crosstree, the forward one, was attached firmly to the underside of the top (Figure 251), so I left it there. I made a new middle crosstree and glued it and the repaired one to the bottom of the top. But the glue simply did not stick to the flat black paint there, so I removed all the crosstrees, cleaned away the glue, scraped away all the black paint, and successfully reglued them to the bare wood. The top itself had fractured along its athwartship grain. It had been repaired by gluing and nailing two roughly 3- by 30- by 70-milliimeter wooden panels, with their grain going fore and aft, to its underside (Figure 251). Further, wood had broken away from the outer edges of the No. 5 starboard and No. 1 port futtock plate mortises. I cleaned up the breaks and glued in small graving pieces (Figure 252). For no reason I could fathom, some other mortises had been irregularly filled with plaster and no longer accepted the earliest generation of futtock plates found with the model. Using dental burrs, I carefully removed the plaster and found all the mortises were fine.

Figure 253. New top timbers on the maintop.

I was not able to determine exact counts for top timbers on other contemporary VOC models. However, I could see in photographs that arrangements were close to that on Valkenisse’s maintop and foretop. I easily removed all the old, misunderstood top timbers from the maintop and, while fashioning new maple ones (Figure 253), discovered they are surprisingly tedious to fit. I secured them with liquid hide glue and insured they did not block crowsfeet holes or futtock plate mortises. I fit the same number as Collins had. On the foremast, both trestletrees were broken at the third crosstree notch, and their aft ends were missing (Figure 254). The short ferrous nails holding the mast-hounds-trestletree-bolster system together had split the trestletrees here and there. I worked the old iron nails out of their sockets. Then I glued the split wood together. I scarfed new oak pieces to the trestletrees’ aft ends; fastened them with liquid hide glue; and then shaped the new work to fit existing parts of the top, including old fasteners, the end of an eyebolt, and two crosstrees, which had been nailed and glued to the underside of the top. I found the middle crosstree in the bundle of parts and fit it into the system. I abbreviated the

Figure 254. On the foremast, both trestletrees were broken at the notch for the third crosstree, arrow.

130 É SPARRING ends of the trestletrees, which had protruded forward of the top by about 2 millimeters and further indicated, if there was not already enough evidence, that the tops had been adapted to rather than built specifically for this model. The starboard bolster was completely rotten or worm-eaten. I made a new oak copy and installed it and the loose port bolster with liquid hide glue.

Figure 255, above. The underside of the foretop before my repairs. The notch in the port edge, to the right, is where a futtock plate broke through the rim. Figure 256, below. The new mizzen hounds are just visible, arrow. Notice the top timbers on the top. In this image, the only piece that could possibly date from the VOC modelwright is the triple block.

The foretop had split twice. Splinters had been lost from the fracture, and the gaps had been filled with glue that had become brittle and parted. I cleared the gaps, cleaned up their split edges, graved new wood into the gaps, and fastened it with liquid hide glue. Later I realized further stabilization was required, so I scraped the undersides clear of finishes near the earlier breaks and attached new wooden panels, like those on the maintop. The top is now much more secure. I replaced the top timbers just as on the maintop. The No. 1 port futtock plate mortise was repaired. The masthead tenon, once square, was so worn that it could not prevent the cap from twisting. I trued up the tenon’s irregular corners and filled out its shape with small graving pieces. Photographs of other contemporary VOC models revealed that mizzen lower masts should be oufitted about the same as the main and fore lowers, not like a topmast. So, scaling everything from the mainmast and foremast, I made 5.3-millimeter-thick hounds (Figure 256), installed them with liquid hide glue and 1.6-millimeter brass pins. I fit new trestletrees, crosstrees, and bolsters. For the new mizzentop, I made a pattern by reducing the tracing of the maintop on a copy machine; traced the pattern on new oak; milled away the excess material inside the integral rim and the rabbet around the underside of the perimeter; beveled the inside of the rim by hand with gouges; and saw-pierced the lubber hole. Topmast shroud mortises were first drilled and then milled to final size with a dental burr. Top timbers were added in proportion to those on the maintop and foretop. The sprit topmast’s foundation at the bowsprit’s outer end is a large vertical knee. It was loose. I removed the trestletrees, reglued the knee to the bowsprit, Table 9. Ezelshoofd Derivations and Dimensions. Measurements are in centimeters. Breadth: of model 41.25 centimeters. Rules from van Yk

Cap

Dimensions on Model

Length

Breadth

Height

Length

Breadth

Length

Lower

1/ 7 breadth of ship

5/ 8 cap length

2/ 3 cap breadth

5.92

3.70

2.47

Topmast

1/ 2 main lower

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

2.96

2.22

1.48

Topgallant

11/ 10 fore topgallant

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

1.65

1.24

0.825

Lower

9/ 10 main lower

5.33

3.33

2.222

Topmast

7/ 8 mizzen lower

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

2.59

1.94

1.295

Topgallant

2/ 3 taffrail

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

1.5

1.125

0.75

Lower

1/ 2 main lower

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

2.96

2.22

1.48

Topmast

2/ 3 taffrail

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

1.5

2.125

0.75

Sprit

7/ 8 mizzen lower

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

2.59

1.94

1.295

Taffrail

7/ 8 fore topmast

3/ 4 length

1/ 2 length

2.26

1.695

1.13

Main

Fore

Mizzen

SPARRING É 131 Figure 257, left. A mock-up for the massivemain ezelshoofd. The wooden gate piece is held to the larger piece with bolts.

Figure 258, above. All other ezelshoofds had a single wooden block and iron gates. (Adapted from Hoving and Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman)

then cleaned up the joints between the trestletrees and crosstrees, and reglued and renailed these to the underside of the sprit top. The top, trestletrees, crosstrees, and top timbers are all oak.

Figure 259, above. Grayed areas are partial bolts. The bolt heads have short shafts and are for show only. The longer piece at the arrow does the work. (Adapted from Hoving and Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman)

With misgivings regarding Collins’s efforts, I removed the edging, which was pliable holly secured with small steel nails, from the perimeter of the sprit top. The top timbers’ ends had been square where they met the edging, so I rounded them a bit. Thus, the sprit top nicely resembles the other three. The sprit topmast heel tenon did not seat well in its mortise atop the bowsprit. I cleaned up the tenon until it fit firmly and this simplified tensioning the rigging later. New ezelshoofden were required throughout the rig, except on the sprit topmast. I found good information for proportions in Dik5 and followed it to make nine new ezelshoofden out of oak (Table 9). In British practice, a topmast passed through a single large, complete hole in the forward end of the cap. This meant that all portions of the topmast above its heel had to be able to pass through the hole. In Dutch practice, however, the forward portion of the ezelshoofd was removable, thus making it possible to erect the topmast and then secure it by bolting the gate, or forward part of the cap, in place. For the main and fore lower caps, the gate was a heavy wooden block that faired into the ezelshoofd shape (Figure 257). On all other caps, including those for flagpoles, the gate was an iron fitting (Figure 258). The two existing ezelshoofden Collins made of oak for the sprit topmast and its pole were shaped well enough to retain, but were a little too broad, so I narrowed them to conform with traditional proportions. I made the caps’ ironwork from brass. The heavy bolts for the main and fore lowers look as though they extend through the caps. However, they are false. Each head is fashioned from the head of a 14-gauge brass escutcheon pin hammered for visual texture and brazed to the transverse plate. The real work is done with two short lengths of 2.4-millimeter rod within each cap. The rods’ forward ends were given some tooth with serrated pliers and glued in the gate pieces, and the other ends fit snugly in the cap (Figure 259). Thus, the caps look as if they are riveted together, but the gates can be easily removed for model maintenance. I formed brass gates over the shanks of drill bits. Pins are brazed to the gates and

Figure 260, above. The finished allwood fore ezelshoofd on the model. Figure 261, below. A finished topgallant ezelshoofd with a brass gate.

Figure 262, below. These trestletrees and straight crosstrees were all formed from a single piece of wood that is now broken and has lost sections. The line is a pair of topmast backstays.

132 É SPARRING fit into sockets in the wooden caps. The gates can be easily removed to house the upper masts and poles.

The Remaining Spars in the Bundle

Figure 263. Cleats at the slings on the yards in the bundle. Some had semicircular holes, some did not.

Figure 264. The yardarm is the short portion of the yard outboard of the stop for the rigging.

The first thing a modeler wants to do after making the caps is to step the topmasts. However, this was the moment when I finally came head to head with the fact that other spars in the bundle would not work. The masts that the British hand probably planned to use for the main and fore topmasts were roughly appropriate in length and diameter, but applicability ended there. They did not fit the tops and caps, and they did not match each other in taper, in detail near their upper ends, in color, or in texture. The single surviving topmast trestletree-crosstree assembly had been shaped from a single piece of wood, which we have seen was acceptable modeling practice in the early eighteenth century, but it had straight British-style crosstrees (Figure 262), which were not found in Dutch ships at that time. In addition to the two possible topmasts, there were only three other mast-like spars to fill no less than seven positions in a complete spar plan. I needed a mizzen topmast, main and fore topgallant masts, and four flagpoles, but the assortment could not be assigned to these positions with confidence. By “poles” I mean fidded masts that were only for setting flags; they did not set sails. Poles topped sail-setting masts on the sprit and mizzen topmasts and on the main and fore topgallant masts. In the bundle there were just five complete yards, and one fragment, for a vessel that required eleven. Like the topmasts, the two largest yards were about right in length and diameter for the main and fore lower yards, but, in proportion to them, the next two were far too long for early eighteenth-century Dutch topsail yards. Cleats at the slings, as the center of a yard is called, were either simple stops or had short extensions in British fashion (Figure 263). None were closed, in the Dutch fashion (Figure 270, page 137). The clincher, however, was the disparity in the yardarms and how they were fitted for studdingsail equipment. Let me clarify the often confused words “yard” and “yardarm.” A yard is an entire spar used for setting a square sail. A yardarm is the short extension of the yard outboard of the stops for the outer corners of the sail that hangs from a yard (Figure 264). Spar makers and sailors understand this distinction and so should we. The bundle’s four larger yards had a muddle of inconsistent yardarm shapes: long and slender, short, tapered, and so forth. At least two arms were scarfed-on extensions or repairs, and one of these repairs differed entirely from the opposite, original end of the same yard. Four distinct styles of outer studdingsail boom irons exhibited noticeably different degrees of refinement in detail and manufacture (Figure 265). One yard had a separate iron style at each end. There was only one inner iron. None of the fittings matched the style of those on other contemporary VOC models. It seemed like someone, probably the British hand, did not have the skills to produce the irons himself, but had access to many others that he felt he could adapt. Finally, the very presence of irons on both lower and topsail yards was problematic because no other VOC models fitted for studdingsails had booms for

SPARRING É 133 them on the topsails yards. Another word of explanation: The spars that ran out along the yards for studdingsails are, technically, booms. Booms are spars used to extend the lower edges or corners of sails. Thus, a studdingsail boom on a lower yard indicates that a studdingsail was hoisted to the arm of the topsail yard above and sheeted to the boom on the lower yard. In other words, the studdingsail was set at the same height as the topsail, but outboard of it. If a studdingsail boom is found on the topsail yard, the implication is that the vessel set topgallant studdingsails, which the model record shows was never the case on VOC retourschepen. This fact contributes enormously to understanding that the yards that came in the bundle were neither Dutch nor ever an integral part of Valkenisse. It took far longer to absorb all this data from the evidence than it does to read about it, but the conclusion was clear. All new topmasts, topgallant masts, flagpoles, yards, and studdingsail booms were necessary so that the model of Valkenisse would present a rig that was visually consistent, properly proportioned for its era, and Dutch. É Ab Hoving generously provided translations of basic mast and yard proportions from van Yk. Using them, the Dutch-English dictionary, and previous experience working with English-language tables for English vessels, I extracted additional information painfully, frequently one word at a time, from the archaic Dutch. An

Figure 265. Each yardarm in a photograph to the left is keyed by letter to a sketch of it below. Based on length, four yards in the bundle could be ascribed positions in the rig as labeled. Each yardarm is completely different in shape and proportion and each has a completely different style of studdingsail hardware. The outer studdingsail iron on yard A is missing, but would mount in the hole in the end of the yardarm. Sketches B and D were drawn after the irons were repaired. The yardarm in photograph C was not broken and repaired, but had been purposefully scarfed onto the yard; here, the added piece has rotated around a fastening pin.

B A B C

134 É SPARRING Table 10. Mast Derivations and Dimensions. Based on principal dimensions of vessel as computed from model at 1:29.3 scale. Length: of vessel, 161.16 Amsterdamse voeten; of model 155.5 centimeters. Breadth: of vessel, 42.96 Amsterdamse voeten; of model, 41.45 centimeters. Mast

Rule from van Yk

Length

Diameter Length Topmast Diameter Length Topgallant Diameter Pole

Length Length

Lower Diameter Length Fore

Topmast Diameter Length Topgallant Diameter Pole

Length Length

Lower Diameter Mizzen

Length Topmast Diameter Pole Bowsprit

97.42

94.0 9.44

1/ 10 length of stick

97.42 / 10

9.78

3/ 4 length of ship in duimen

(3 (42.96 / 4)) / 11

3.42

3.3

Under Top

4/ 5 maximum diameter of stick

4 (3.42 / 5)

2.56

2.47

Stick

5/ 3 beam of ship

5 (42.96 / 3)

71.6

69.09

Head

1/ 12 of stick

71.6 / 12

5.97

5.76

Maximum

Same as mast under top

Under Top

2/ 3 of maximum diameter 3/ 4 beam of ship

Stick Head Maximum Under Top

2.34

2.26

2 (2.34 / 3)

1.56

1.505

3 (42.96 / 4)

32.22

31.09

Not found in van Yk; gauged from other sources 5/ 8 of maximum

Stick

8/ 7 of main topgallant mast

8 (32.22 / 7)

36.82

35.52

Stick

9/ 10 of main mast stick

9 (97.42 / 10)

89.54

86.4

Head

9/ 10 of main mast head

9 (9.78 /10)

8.86

8.55

Maximum

9/ 10 of main mast

9 (3.42 / 10)

2.64

2.55

Under Top

9/ 10 of main mast stick

9 (2.56 / 10)

2.38

2.3

9/ 10 of main topmast stick

9 (71.6 / 10)

64.44

62.18

Stick

1/ 12 of stick

64.44 / 12

5.37

5.18

Maximum

9/ 10 of main topmast maximum

9 (2.34 / 10)

2.11

2.04

Under Top

2/ 3 of maximum

2 (2.11 / 3)

1.41

1.36

5/ 6 main topgallant mast stick

5 (32.22 / 6)

26.85

25.91

Head

Stick Head Maximum Under Top

Not found in van Yk; gauged from other sources 5/ 8 of maximum

Stick

8/ 7 of fore topgallant mast

8 (26.85 / 7)

30.68

29.6

Stick

3/ 4 of main stick

3 (97.42 / 4)

67.36

65.0 1.95

Head

Not found in van Yk; gauged from other sources

Maximum

2/ 3 of main mast maximum

2 (3.42 / 3)

2.00

Under Top

2/ 3 of maximum

2 (3.0 / 3)

1.86

1.8

11/ 10 of main topgallant stick

11 (32.33 / 10)

35.44

34.2

Stick Head

Not found in van Yk; gauged from other sources

Maximum

11/ 10 of main topgallant maximum

Under Top

Not found in van Yk; gauged from other sources

Stick

5/ 6 mizzen topmast

5 (35.44 / 6)

29.53

28.49

Length

Stick

3/ 8 length of ship

3 (161.16 / 8)

60.42

58.3

Average of main and fore mast maximums

(3.42 + 2.64) / 2

2.98

2.88

5/ 6 of fore topgallant mast

5 (26.85 / 6)

25.9

25.0

0.96

0.925

Diameter Maximum

Topmast Diameter

Taffrail

Model Size, Centimeters

Length

Bowsprit

3(25) + 1 voet of ship breadth over 3 (25) + (42.96 - 25) 25 voeten

Computed Ship Size, Voeten

Maximum

Head

Lower

Main

Stick

See the Math

Stick Head

Not found in van Yk; gauged from other sources

Maximum

Not found in van Yk; gauged from other sources

Under Top

5/ 8 maximum

Pole

Length

Stick

3/ 4 of sprit topmast

Pole

Length

Stick

Same as main pole

3 (25.9 / 4)

16.78

16.5

36.82

35.52

SPARRING É 135 active e-mail exchange with Hoving helped enormously. Until this time in the project, most of my repair and reconstruction had only required working in proportion to features already on the model. At this critical moment I could no longer avoid having to determine the model’s actual scale and set about finding the solution, as related in Part 4, The Riddle of the Scales. When the dust settled, I started applying formulas and measurements from van Yk to the main and fore lower masts. The principal retourschip dimension used to determine spar lengths is the ship’s maximum beam inside the planking. The principal diameter is that of the mainmast at the deck. Nearly all other dimensions derive from these. To keep track of data for each mast, I created Table 10. I was enormously relieved to learn that the extant main and fore lower masts were about the right size. Yes, there were some discrepancies, but they averaged out. I wanted new masting in proportion to that already on the model, so I based my calculations on the existing mainmast. When all my new masts and their connecting devices, such as trestletree, crosstrees, and caps, were assembled, it seemed the masts were too chubby. I returned to Table 10 and discovered the model’s existing mainmast tapered to a diameter below the hounds of about 10 percent more than van Yk suggested. I had built my house on a weak foundation. I slimmed the topmasts, topgallant masts, and poles by about 10 percent, and everything looked fine when compared to other contemporary models. An integral part of sparmaking is building the structures at their tops. The proportions I used for developing trestletrees and crosstrees are shown in Table 11.

Topmast and Topgallants The upper end of the topmasts have an enlarged four-square length to provide greater support for the trestletrees just like the hounds do for the lower masts. In the topmasts, this larger volume is mortised on each side for a sheave as large in diameter as the mast. The sheaves carry the topsail yard tyes (Figure 266). Trestletrees and crosstrees are fitted like those on lower masts, but by Valkenisse’s era they no longer had platforms. Trestletrees were simple enough, but the number and arrangement of crosstrees were problematic. In earlier times, there were two crosstrees, and they curved in plan view. The forward ones curved forward and the after ones curved aft; they splayed in four directions (Figure 267). Anderson noted this arrangement was used on topgallant crosstrees,6 but we find it on Dutch topmast crosstrees, as well. The curves provided the widest possible spread for the topgallant shrouds. However, the forward crosstrees swept forward far enough that the topgallant yard fouled the shrouds when it was in all but its highest position. Unsure how to proceed, I made a mock-up. Sure enough, the forward shrouds significantly fouled the yard in its stowed position, where it would be on the model. See Figure 336, page 173. Then I compared the mock-up with contemporary models. The topgallant shroud spread in the photos seemed too narrow to indicate forward-curved crosstrees. Consequently, I made all the crosstrees sweep aft. Things seemed seaman-like. Then Hoving convinced me to reconsider. He knew “exactly” what I meant about the poor

Figure 266, above. Sheaves for the topsail yard tye in the topmast hounds. Figure 267, below. Topmast and topgallant crosstrees curve away from each other so the shrouds can provide broader support for the masts above.

136 É SPARRING arrangement, but confirmed it. “Indeed we see [it] on models and on Van der Velde drawings.” About the potential for chafe, he said that it was a “lousy way for the lowered yard” to be. He commented on anachronisms, “Without doubt Valkenisse is an old-fashioned ship.” He advised that I not make the mistake of rigging her in a more modern and consequently inappropriate way just to show that I knew how problems could be solved.7 This confirmed what I knew, so I did the right things: fought modern aesthetic sensitivities and turned the forward crosstrees around so they curved forward. I made new structural and other applied elements of maple. For the sprit topmast assembly, I had to make a fid for the pole and a spacer to keep its heel the proper distance from the masthead. I made and installed gammoning stops and the arced fairlead on the bowsprit, and then the thumb cleat for the mizzen stay on the mainmast.

Yards and Booms Making new yards went smoothly. Their dimensions and proportions are shown in Table 12, page 138. Unfortunately, they also seemed slightly stout but recalculation showed I had not worked closely enough to pencil lines, so I dressed them down slightly, and they looked fine. The proportions for cleats at the slings and Table 11. Trestletree and Crosstree Derivations and Dimensions. Measurements are in centimeters. Breadth of model: 41.25 centimeters. TT = Trestleree; XT = Crosstree Rules from van Yk

Mast

Lower

Main

Topmast

Topgallant

Lower

Fore

Topmast

Topgallant

Lower Mizzen Topmast

Sprit

Topmast

Dimensions on Model

Length

Height

Breadth

Length Height Breadth

Trestletrees

1/ 3 breadth of ship

5 duimen for each 6 voet in length

4/ 5 height

13.75

1.04

0.8

Crosstrees

slightly shorter than TT

3/ 4 breadth of XT

same as XT

12.95

0.60

0.8 0.40

Trestletrees

1/ 2 main TT

6.875

0.50

Crosstrees

1/ 2 of main XT

6.475

0.30

0.40

Trestletrees

2/ 3 main topmast TT

4.58

0.33

0.267

Crosstrees

2/ 3 main topmast XT

4.32

0.20

0.267

Trestletrees

5/ 6 main TT

11.45

0.833

0.67

Crosstrees

5/ 6 main XT

10.79

0.50

0.67

Trestletrees

9/ 10 main topmast TT

6.19

0.45

0.35

Crosstrees

9/ 10 main topmast XT

5.83

0.27

0.36

Trestletrees

2/ 3 fore topmast TT

4.13

0.30

0.24

Crosstrees

2/ 3 fore topmast XT

3.89

0.180

0.24

Trestletrees

1/ 2 main TT

6.875

0.50

0.40

Crosstrees

1/ 2 main XT

6.475

0.30

0.40

Trestletrees

2/ 3 main topmast TT

4.58

0.33

0.267

Crosstrees

2/ 3 main topmast XT

4.32

0.20

0.267

Trestletrees

1/ 2 main TT

6.875

0.50

0.40

Crosstrees

1/ 2 main XT

6.475

0.30

0.40

SPARRING É 137 Figure 268, left. Double yard rings stapled to the main yard on the model of Bleiswijk. Notice the refined studdingsail boom iron. (Courtesy Collection Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, the Netherlands)

Figure 269, above. Making copper wire yard rings for Valkenisse.

yardarms were lifted from Dik. Details for the cleats and stops are shown in Figures 270 and 271. I installed the fittings with steel pins and liquid hide glue. The main and fore yards are equipped on their forward sides with uniquely Dutch cheek blocks for the leechlines.8 The blocks are just inboard of the inner studdingsail boom irons (Figure 351, page 179). Hoving shows them on Tasman’s ships as Dik does on his Zeven Provinciën, and they are on den Ary and Bleiswijk. Another feature of the main and fore lower yards are yard rings. Each is one or two metal rings loosely stapled to the top of the yard (Figure 268). They are spaced apart about two or more yard diameters, starting at the outboard end of the cleat at the slings. Hoving brought them to my attention on VOC models and wrote that they were for the gaskets used for furling the lower sails.9 I made them of copper wire (Figure 269). A survey of the contemporary models for how studdingsail booms were rigged revealed something surprising. We who see things through English-colored glasses expect studdingsail booms to be rigged forward and above the axis of the yard to which they are attached. In this position the booms neither interfere with the yard’s sail nor inconvenience men on footropes abaft the yard. But on the majority of VOC models, the studdingsail booms are mounted with their axes abaft and frequently below the yards. This must have made standing on the early footropes awkward, but footropes were not as common in the early eighteenth Figure 270, left. Proportions for Dutch yard cleats as reconstructed from Dik. The controlling factors are the length and diameter of the yard. (“De Zeven Provinciën”) Figure 271, right. Proportions for yardarm stops. (Adapted from Dik “De Zeven Provinciën”)

138 É SPARRING century and were slung under, rather than abaft, the yards. Incidentally, studdingsail irons on the yards that came with the model were arranged for booms in the British position. With no written sources for studdingsail booms to work from, I relied on photographs, but getting accurate lengths from photos is always tricky. Hoving said he found “not a word” in van Yk about studdingsail equipment. However, Anderson wrote that van Yk indicated studdingsail booms were two thirds the length of the yard upon which they were rigged, that their diameter was about one fiftieth of their length, and that they tapered to half the diameter at the outer end. With my poor knowledge of Dutch, I could not confirm Anderson’s claim regarding van Yk. However, I judged from the photographs that the studdingsail booms were about five twelfths, or just under half, the lengths of the yards on which they were mounted. Hoving confirmed this informally, “Observations show that the usual length is a little bit less than half the yard.”10 When stowed, the tips of the booms extended slightly outboard of the yardarms. The lack of consistency in the existing studdingsail boom irons dictated that I make new ones. The old VOC models revealed a reasonably consistent Table 12. Yard Derivations and Dimensions. Based on principal dimensions of vessel as computed from model at 1:29.3 scale. Length: of vessel, 161.16 voeten; of model, 155.5 centimeters. Breadth: of vessel, 42.96 voeten; of model, 41.45 centimeters. Maximun diameters are 1/ 4-duimen for each voet of length. The exceptions are the mizzen lower yard and crossjack; these are 1 duim for each 6 voeten of length, which is the same as 2/ 3 the proportion for the diameter of a “regular” yard. Ends of yards taper to 1/ 3 maximum diameters, except for the mizzen yard which tapers to 1/ 2 the maximum diameter at the forward end and 3/ 8 at the aft end. Stops at arms are 2 maximum diameters from the ends. Length of Stick Yard

Main

Rule for Length from van Yk

Model, Centimeters

Ship, Voeten

Model, Centimeters

89.3

86.16

22.3

1.96

4.05

3.9

Topsail

4/ 7 main lower yard

51.0

49.21

12.75

1.12

2.32

2.24

31.76

30.65

7.94

0.70

1.24

1.19

Lower

6/ 7 main lower yard

76.54

73.85

19.14

1.69

3.48

3.36

Topsail

4/ 7 fore lower yard

43.74

42.2

10.94

0.96

1.99

1.92

27.22

26.26

6.80

0.60

1.06

1.02

82.92

80.01

13.82

1.21

3.77

1.76

Lower

Sprit

Ship, Duimen

7/ 16 total of length and breadth of ship

Topgallant

Mizzen

Model, Centimeters

Arm Length

Lower

Topgallant

Fore

Ship, Voeten

Maximum Diameter

Crossjack

1/ 2 total of main and fore lower yards

Same as main topsail yard

51.0

49.21

8.5

0.75

1.55

1.49

Topsail

4/ 7 of crossjack

29.14

28.12

7.28

0.64

1.32

1.28

Lower

5/ 8 of main lower yard

55.8

53.85

13.95

1.22

2.54

2.45

Topsail

4/ 7 opf sprit yard

31.88

30.77

7.97

0.67

1.45

1.40

Studdingsail Booms

Derivation from Contemporary Models

Main

5/ 12 main lower yard

37.21

35.9

Fore

5/ 12 fore lower yard

31.89

30.77

SPARRING É 139 style. The mid-yard and yard-end irons were the same basic 8 shape. Each was fashioned from two simple metal hoops connected by a square-sectioned spacer. The inner irons were mounted on the yard about half way between the outer irons and the inner end of the boom when stowed. While in some cases the outer irons were mounted at the very outer ends of the yardarms, these examples were generally on models that are known to have been rigged in the twentieth century. On more contemporary examples, the irons seemed to be mounted a little further inboard, just outside the eyes of all the rigging that fetched up against the wooden cleats. This means that the outer irons could only be mounted on the yards after the rest of the rigging was in place. This was easy for me, but would probably have been awkward for eighteenth-century sailors. I fashioned the new irons from 0.9- by 4.9-millimeter brass bar stock that compared favorably to about 51/ 2 duimen on the ship. I bent up hoops, silver soldered them closed, hammered them round on a ring mandrel, then soldered the hoops to the spacer. I drilled holes in the hoops so the irons could be nailed to the yards.

Spar-Making Notes The conservation laboratory at the MFA reported informally that Valkenisse’s original lower masts were made of a sort of pine that looked much like cedar and was found in Europe but not in the United States. I used red cedar, which had a suitable grain and color, for my first attempt at a new topmast. But I decided it was too soft to hold crisp detail and would be easily damaged. I settled for Eastern white pine. I produce spars, whether masts, yards, or booms, as traditional sparmakers did, although I do not have to start from trees. This is generally the process described for model makers by Underhill and Dik as opposed to that described by Longridge11 because dividing spars into separate vertical segments depending on shape or sectional changes weakens them enormously. On a plank, I draw the spar parallel to the grain. Then I bore the throughspar holes, if necessary, that appear in that projection. I do this because it is easier to position holes in the flat plank than in a round spar; there is less likelihood of tearing wood around fragile hole edges, and it is easier to adjust the spar edges to an imperfectly drilled hole than vice-versa. I cut out the spar on the band saw, and smoothed it on both sides. On the new surface, I carefully draw the spar’s other projection, bore necessary holes, cut the spar out, and smooth it. At this point, I have a four-square stick with all the proper tapers, enlargements, and major holes. I progressively make the spar eight-square, sixteen-square, then round. If the shaped runs are not blocked by enlargements, I can do these steps on the table sander. If not, I use files and planes. The last process is to refine the enlargements. The white pine was obviously way too light in color. I mixed about equal portions of burnt umber and raw sienna, added a touch of burnt sienna, and thinned the mixture with water so pigments would penetrate the pine, like stain. I brushed this on, let it set briefly, then wiped the surface with a paper towel. Then, with a stiff, relatively dry brush, I applied an irregular overcoat of burnt umber. Finally, I lightly dragged an old toothbrush along the spar’s length to

140 É SPARRING streak the dark overcoat and reveal the lighter undercoat. The result was a false wood grain that was surprisingly convincing. According to contemporary VOC art and models, the hoists of masts and the runs of yards, including the studdingsail booms, were finished naturally. That is, they were not painted with a color, but were oiled or tarred. Other sparring components, including the tops, their support structures, mastheads, caps, yard-arms, and the pole hoists were black. I did not want to use a pure and powerful black because it would be too stark and off-putting. So, I warmed up a base of mars black with an equal amount of burnt umber and added a touch of neutral gray, value 5, to lighten the color without brightening it too much. The result was a black that was neither cold nor black. I made the trucks yellow. É

Notes 1

Richard B.K. McLanathan, Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957).

Ab Hoving, e-mail to author, 20 March 2001.

R.C. Anderson, The Rigging of Ships In the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (Centreville, Maryland: Cornell Maritime Press, 1982), pp. 28-29.

E.W. Petrejus, Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE (Hengelo, Holland: N.V. Uitgeversmaatschappij “De Esch,” 1970), p.188.

G.C. Dik, DE ZEVEN PROVINCIËN (Franken, the Netherlands: Uitgeverij Van Wijnen, 1993).

The Rigging of Ships, p. 50.

Hoving, e-mails to author, 8:51 and 16:28, 25 February 2003.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 172.

Hoving and Cor Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman (Hilversum, The Netherlands: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2000), p. 79.

10 Hoving, e-mail to author, 5 April 2001; and The Rigging of Ships, p. 60. 11 Harold A. Underhill, Plank-on-Frame Models and Scale Masting and Rigging Volume II (Glasgow: Brown, Son and Ferguson, Ltd., 1964), pp. 10-11; Dik, DE ZEVEN PROVINCIËN; and C. Nepean Longridge, The Anatomy of Nelson’s Ships (London: Percival Marshall & Company Ltd., 1961), pp. 162-163.

Part 10 RIGGING PREPARATIONS We will now consider several topics that can be discussed separately from the actual rigging process. These include hardware and block making, adapting a modelbuilder’s ropewalk, laying up line, and more.

Deadeyes I knew I would have to make new deadeyes, but had hoped to use most if not all that came with the model (Figure 272). No less than six hands had made specimens that could be distinguished by shape, color, texture, and finish. Many were inserted in strops, futtock plates, and the bights of shrouds and backstays. Some had been turned beautifully on a lathe and were nearly spherical, as Anderson stated seventeenth- and eighteenth-century deadeyes should be.1 Some at the other extreme were crude, disk-like chip carvings. Style consistency did not even exist within given applications. For instance, two or three types found along the main channels did not necessarily match their mates turned into shrouds. A None of these styles could be positively identified as original to the model. We know Collins had someone make new deadeyes.2 They were easily isolated in the bundle, strung on wires (Figure 272). They were not attached to components that had ever been on the model. They were poorly made and finished. They would not work. My additions would increase the style pool to at least seven, which was way too many. I decided to retain two old styles and set all the others, including Collins’s, aside so there would be three styles on the model, including mine. I selected the best-looking and oldest styles (Figure 273). Some of each had narrow grooves for metal strops, others had wider grooves for fiber shrouds. In the two groups I retained, there were four extra deadeyes with narrow grooves for wire and I lacked four with wide grooves. To use as many originals as possible, I widened the grooves on the extras with a round file. They are used for the bobstay and mizzenstay. Of the roughly 145 deadeyes that came with the model, I used 102, or about 50 percent of Valkenisse’s total of 202; I made the other 100. Normal standing rigging was tensioned with 188 and 14 were used elsewhere. Deadeye distribution and sizes are recorded in Table 13, next page. Within size and style constraints, I tried to locate old and new deadeyes randomly throughout the rig.

Figure 272, above. A sampling of the deadeyes and associated hardware that came in the bundle. New deadeyes made by the Collins-era hand are strung on wire, A. Flat strap mizzen chainplates are shown at B. Deadeyes still on the model and turned into the shrouds are not shown. Figure 273, below. The style of deadeyes, strops, chainplates, backing links, and futtock plates most likely to be original to the model are shown with arrows. The style in the center has much lighter wire work.

142 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS For several years, I have been the glad recipient of scrap Swiss pearwood from Fox Brothers, custom makers of fine furniture in Newburyport. Their rippings, which are something over a meter long, are of no use to them but are perfect for me. This pear is lighter in color and softer than most. The softness meant the wood could be shaped more quickly and was quite responsive to sandpaper. Although the assorted older deadeyes were made from several woods, I turned new ones from pear on the Unimat 3 lathe. For each size, I made a jig for boring the three lanyard holes (Figures 274 and 275). Lanyard scores were cut with a small dental burr in the flex-shaft. Following the prudent ship modeler’s habit, I made about 10 percent extra of each size. Finishes on the model’s older deadeyes were worn and inconsistent. Each was different. I realized abruptly that, after a fashion, my finishing process would entail something like painting a picture of an old deadeye on a new one. Table 13. Deadeye Distribution. Measurements are in millimeters.

Mast

Location

Lower Shrouds

Main

Topmast Shrouds

Topgallant Shrouds

Tier

Old

New

Total

Top

Bottom

Top

Bottom

Top

Bottom

Lower Yard Footropes

14.85

9.0

1.48

10.3

8.5

1.15

7.4

6.0

0.92

7.4

6.0

0.92

14.85

9.0

1.48

9.4

6.5

0.96

7.4

6.0

0.92

7.4

6.0

0.92

10.3

8.5

1.15

7.4

6.0

0.92

7.4

6.0

0.92

Top

Bottom

Top

Bottom

Top

Bottom

Top

Bottom

Stay

Bobstay

Top

Bottom

10.3

8.5

1.15

9.4

6.5

0.96

102

100

202

Topmast Shrouds

Lower Yard Footropes Lower Shrouds

Bowsprit

Diameter Thickness Hole

Bottom

Topgallant Shrouds

Mizzen

Size of New Deadeyes

Top

Lower Shrouds

Fore

Number of Deadeyes

Topmast Shrouds

Sprit Topmast Shrouds Sprit Yard Fixed Lifts

False Stay for Staysails Totals

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 143 Thus, I finished the deadeyes with a threestep paint job. First, I used a fine-pointed brush to apply an undercoat of a lightervalued, unevenly mixed burnt sienna and burnt umber as a watery wash that flowed easily into lanyard holes and strop grooves. This dried quickly, and I followed it immediately with random dry-brushed highlights of mars black touched slightly with raw sienna to replicate wood figure (which the pear had none of) and old chipped and worn paint. Finally, I applied a mixture of acrylic polymer medium and matte medium for a suitable gloss.

Strops and Chains

Figure 274, above left. The jig for boring 7.4-millimeter deadeyes. The circle contains the three small pilot holes. Figure 275, above right. The jig for 10.5-millimeter deadeyes separated to show a deadeye in place, arrow.

Deadeyes work in pairs and generally one of each pair is connected to the vessel with a metal fitting. The fittings at the channels are a combination of strops, chainplates, and backing links, while those at the top platforms are futtock plates. Like the deadeyes, those on the model were the work of several distinct hands. Some were okay but many were not. I adjusted existing components where possible and replaced distorted, broken, and missing ones where necessary. Along the main and fore channels, I fabricated new strops, chainplates, and backing links from 1.15-millimeter-diameter brass wire. I annealed the wire, formed strops and links on specially made jigs (Figure 276), and silver soldered the strops and links closed using Hagstoz Easy Flow solder that is 50 percent silver and has a melting point of 1,175 Fahrenheit degrees. Backing links were originally fastened to the wales with ferrous nails. Their shanks were about 15 millimeters long and had a cut shape, like upholstery tacks. Their heads were roughly hemispherical. Surprisingly, I had to replace only nine for the main and fore shrouds. I used 20-millimeter-long brass escutcheon pins with 1.6-millimeterdiameter shanks. For the most part, they fit existing holes well. If a shank was too long, I shortened it rather than drill the hole in the hull’s original fabric any deeper. Holes for the main No. 10 and fore No. 9 backing link pins had been filled, so they had to be reamed out for new pins. The arrangement of strops, plates, and links on Valkenisse was consistent with evidence on contemporary models. However, at the mizzen channels, it was a different story, one with little consensus. Some models, like den Ary, show linkages similar to but simpler than those at the mainmast and foremast while others, like Padmos/Blydorp, show what appear to be flat straps that hooked into the strops and were nailed to the planking. One model even showed a one-piece stropchainplate combination. In the Culver photograph (Figure 12, page 16), we can just determine that the mizzen strops were connected to the hull with wire links similar to the mainmast and foremast fittings, but without backing links. This arrangement was appropriately lighter weight than on the main and fore. However, by the time the model arrived at the MFA, Collins had replaced the wire fittings with flat straps (Figures 21, page

Figure 276. The jig for bending strops for three sizes of deadeyes.

144 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS 28 and 272, B, page 141). Why did Collins make the change? My only guess is that he was influenced by Crone to emulate the fittings on Padmos/Blydorp. Nails fastening Collins’s mizzen straps were in the same places as the those holding wire fittings in the Culver photograph. I had worried that the new maindeck gunport frames would prevent the use of these holes, and such would have been the case if I re-used Collins’s straps because they were too wide at their lower ends. Wire links, however, were small enough to clear the frames when using the same holes, which were probably original. Thus, I easily decided to replace Collins’s straps with wire links patterned after those on den Ary. In the end, I suspect these are more authentic because my guess is that it was difficult for shipyard blacksmiths to make large, flat sheets of iron. It was generally considered structurally sound and aesthetically pleasing for these linkages to follow the rakes of their associated shrouds. But the mizzen chains did not all rake fairly. This condition apparently predated the Collins-era efforts. I looked for traces of holes, filled or open, that indicated otherwise, but found none, so the poor leads of some mizzen chains have been preserved from whatever previous hand is responsible for them.

Futtock Plates

A Figure 277. Futtock plates identified as older and probably original, A, were sawn from a single piece of metal and, because of the split in the "leg," could be opened to insert the deadeye, then closed around it. The Collins-made plates, B, had two parts that were soft soldered together; many joints had failed although no rigging stress had been placed on them.

Deadeyes were mounted to the tops with futtock plates. Two styles of futtock plates came with the model. The style that seemed older was a single-piece unit that combined the plate and the deadeye strop (Figure 277, A). The plates were sawn from copper just over a millimeter in thickness. The slot down a plate’s middle was cut with a chisel, not a saw, and allowed the loop of the strop to be widened so the deadeye could be inserted. After insertion, the legs were crimped shut. I found plates in the rims of the tops where they were properly connected to the lower rigging, so I attributed them to the British hand, or earlier. The other plates were made of two pieces, a wire strop soft-soldered to a plate (Figure 277, B). B None of the two-piece plates, though, were actually mounted on the model; they seemed to be Collins-era contrivances and, on many, the soldered joints had failed. With no soft-solder joints, the earlier plates would have been stronger, but the later would have been easier to make because they did not require boring or sawing the large round hole. Contemporary models indicated that, stylistically, the single-piece plates were more appropriate. I used all the earlier ones I could and copied them to replace the Collins-era examples. In all, Valkenisse needed thirty-six futtock plates, but there were only eight early ones. To make twenty-eight new pieces, I started with a sheet of brass. I bored large holes for the deadeyes and small ones for the futtock shroud hooks, scribed the plate outlines around the holes, cut out the plates with the jeweler’s saw, and sawed (rather than chiseled) the kerf down the center. I thought sawing would be slow work, but it went quickly enough. After annealing the plates with a torch, I installed the deadeyes as described above. With the plates annealed, this was simple, and there was no spring-back when closing the legs. To maintain the model’s atmosphere, I mixed old and new deadeyes and futtock plates.

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 145

Blocks The block situation was far more varied than that for deadeyes because blocks come in so many different types while deadeyes are all about the same. By my best count, there are 349 blocks on the model in forty-seven combinations of styles and sizes. As with other components, I assumed I would use most of the blocks that came with the model and would only have to make a few replacements. But I could only use a small percentage; the 275 or so produced during the Collins era were simply not suitable (Figure 278). From the best of the older ones, I could select only 24, or something under 7 percent, that compared favorably with those on other contemporary models. I tried to use the early examples in relatively conspicuous locations; most are recorded in Table 14.

Figure 278. The Collins-era blocks strung on wires.

Table 14. In Valkenisse’s time, real blocks were Distribution of Early Blocks. formed from, well, single blocks of wood Location Block rather than being built up of several pieces, as wooden blocks are today. IndiFore Topgallant Stay Turning block at the sprit topmast head Spritsail Sheet blocks vidually sculpting well-shaped blocks of Spritsail Clewline Lower blocks toggled to the sheet blocks any sort out of wood for ship models Main Topgallant Stay Turning block at the fore topmast head takes a long time. In assembly line fashMain Topsail Clewline Lower block starboard side connected to sheet ion, I performed each step on a large Main Braces Turning blocks at the quarters number of blocks (Figure 279). To Sprit Topsail Halyard Single block in fall refine my moves, I started with the bigSprit Topsail Braces Turning blocks on the bowsprit ger blocks and worked down to the Mizzen Topsail Sheets Blocks at crossjack yard quarters smaller ones. It took significantly less Mizzen Jeers Triple block time to process, say, a 9-millimeter Mizzen Parral Double block block than an 18-millimeter one Mizzen Parral Fall Fiddle block because much less wood had to be Mizzen Lift Block at topmast head removed from the former. Overall and Main Topgallant Halyard Single block Main Bowline Starboard bridle blocks on average, each block required about a Mizzen Topsail Bowline Port bridle block half-hour to make and finish; it may have been more, but it certainly was not less. The complex topsail sheet blocks and ramsheads easily took an hour each just to shape. With a total of about 325 new blocks, this amounted to a solid month of full-time effort, not including research. The blocks were finished with the same process as the deadeyes. As a precaution against miscalculation of need, I always make about 10 percent extra and one for a “file” copy. Blocks on Valkenisse fall into two basic geometric groups, those founded on the standard single block and special blocks. The standard single block is the basis for single, double, and fiddle blocks, but there is no unifying pattern for special blocks such as ramsheads, topsail sheet blocks, and others. The good news was that the vast majority, about 89 percent, were standard

No. 1 2 2 1 1 2 1 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 2 1

Figure 279. The batch of about eighty finished blocks are all for the fore and main lower and topsail yards.

146 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS

Figure 280, above. Using a green ellipse template to determine the shape of a block, arrow, in a photograph of Oostrust. (AS-58-78, courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp) Figure 281, above right. Standard blocks are all based on the 60degree ellipse and include the single, double, triple, and fiddle blocks. Side and front views are easy to distinguish here, but are more difficult for blocks with axes on different planes.

so their manufacturing could be streamlined, and the relatively few special blocks, while harder to make, were interesting enough to not be tedious. By working a draftsman’s ellipse template over photos of contemporary rigging, I determined that the side view (Figure 280) of the early Dutch model blocks could be based on a 60-degree ellipse. Many older blocks that came in the bundle confirmed this, regardless of their particular origins. I taped a sheet of bond paper to the drawing board and constructed the side and front views for a single block. The size at this point did not matter; it would be adjusted later. I added details for the sheave, pin, swallow, and arse. In the standard style, the side view for each type is the same, but the front viewes differed for single, double, and triple blocks. The larger end of a fiddle block for a given size of line is the same as the standard single for that size. So, to complete the fiddle block, I appended and faired in a smaller block to the arse-end of the standard single block. The final master drawing is shown in Figure 281. I scanned the master drawing to disk and cleaned it up in Photoshop. Then I created a new document in Xpress, opened a picture box, imported the master drawing, isolated the side view for the standard single block and reduced its size to create patterns for 14-millimeter blocks. Then, using Xpress’s step and repeat function, I copied the picture box at regularly spaced intervals in a column down the page. For the 14-millimeter examples, there were eleven blocks in the column. I created columns of patterns for a few block sizes on each sheet, then printed the sheets (Figure 282).

Figure 282. An assortment of sheets with columns of patterns ready to glue to strips of pearwood.

For 14-millimeter blocks, I ripped 8.4- by 12.6-millimeters strips of pearwood on the Preac saw. Next, I ripped slots in the edges for the sheave mortises. These slots had to go exactly down the strip’s center. It’s sometimes difficult to set a fence so a kerf goes down the center of a workpiece in a single pass. However, if the blade is gauged to one side of the slot, and the strip is passed over the blade twice, once in each direction, then the slot will be in the center. To expedite making subsequent batches of blocks, I recorded wood and drill sizes in Table 15. I sliced the columns of side-view patterns from the printed sheets and rubber cemented them to the pearwood strips. This was done after the slots were ripped so the paper thickness would not effect centering the slots. With a square and sharp pencil, locations for the holes for the swallows and arses were transferred to both slotted edges. To insure holes were always within the slots, I set the drill press table height so holes were bored only slightly more than half-way through and then drilled from both sides. Blocks were cut from the strip on the band saw

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 147 Table 15. Blocks used on the Model. Nominal Length on Model, Millimeters

Block Type

Single Blocks

Regular

Hole, Millimeters

Old

New

4.4 x 6.4

0.7

4.5 x 7.0

5.0 x 8.0

1.03

10.

5.5 x 9.0

1.06

12.

7.0 x 10.5

1.37

8.4 x 12.6

1.68

9.0 x 13.5

1.76

1.45

16. 18. Based on Standard 60-Degree Ellipse Pattern

Iron-bound

1.87

10.7 x 15.5

1.94

20.

11.5 x 18.0

2.06

16.

9.0 x 13.5

1.76

12. Double Blocks

14.

1 1.45

16. 18. Treble Blocks

1.87

Fiddle Blocks

Ramsheads Topsail Tye Blocks

Sheet Blocks

Lift Blocks Snatch Block

Stay blocks

Euphroes

Fairleads

13.0 x 14.0

1.76

14.6 x 15.5

1.94

4 1

5.0 x 8.0

1.03

16.

5.5 x 9.0

1.06

19.5

7.0 x 10.5

1.37

10 1

23.2

2.4

8.4 x 12.6

1.68

29.

3.0

10.7 x 15.5

1.94

40.

17.5 x 17.5

1.8, 2.5

50.

22.0 x 22.0

2.0, 2.5

23.

10.0 x 11.5

1.4, 1.6

25.5

11.0 x 12.5

1.4, 1.6

23.

8.0 x 10.5

1.0, 1.6

29.

10.0 x 13.0

1.19, 1.6

32.

11.0 x 14.5

1.31, 1.6

13.5

3.75 x 5.5

1.0

17.

3.5 x 6.5

1.19

20.

5.0 x 7.5

1.31

16.5

5.0 x 9.5

4- & 5-hole

15.

1.55

1.0

4- & 5-hole

18.

1.86

1.17

4- & 5-hole

22.

2.28

1.48

4- & 5-hole

29.

3.0

1.94

4-hole

31.

4.5 x 9.0

1.0

5-hole

44.

4.5 x 9.0

0.83

60.

4.5 x 9.0

0.83

65.

4.5 x 9.0

0.83

35.

4.5 x 6.5

6.6

4.3 x 5.8

7-hole Gammoning Racks

1.68

16. 14.3

Special

Number Used

Stick for Manufacture, Millimeters

14.

Length on Ship, Amsterdamse Voeten

4-hole

Grand Total 349

2 1.9 Totals

325

148 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS and dressed to their final elliptical shapes on a Jarmac disc sander. With a cylindrical diamond cutter in the flex-shaft, strop grooves were cut across the arses and dummy sheaves were sculpted between the swallows and arses. I did not make working blocks because contemporary blocks seemed to have dummy sheaves, because the old blocks that came with the model had dummy sheaves, and because well-shaped dummy sheaves appear to be operable. Incidentally, diamond cutters provide a smoother finish than multi-edged burrs because their cutting “teeth” are distributed randomly over the surface rather than in grain-catching rows, as with burrs. Diamond cutters are available in many sizes and qualities from jewelry tool supply houses. Next, the sanded front edges were marked with a pencil to define the limit of the rounding for the cheeks. This took some precision, but I found I could lay a block on the bench and revolve it against the point of a pencil also laying on the bench. I gauged the height of the line by placing the block or pencil on index cards. A problem with making blocks is gripping them while they are being shaped; fingers cramp and finger tips get in the way. Neither pliers nor tweezers really work. The solution was wooden tongs. Using scrap wood (it happened to be cherry), I produced tongs in several sizes and equipped the business ends with small maple jaws that fit the blocks’ sheave mortises (Figure 283). The spacer glued between the tongs’ legs was somewhat smaller than the block so there would be spring in the system. I grabbed a block with the tongs and revolved it against the disc sander to rough out the ovoid shape of a cheek quickly. Turn the block over in the tongs and repeat. Holding the block in my fingers, I filed the sanding and pencil marks off the curved front faces. Then each block Figure 283, left. Several pairs of cherry tongs with maple jaws were useful for gripping blocks during shaping. Figure 284, below. Special blocks came in a variety of shapes and sizes. The largest of each type is shown below at actual size as developed for Valkenisse.

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 149 Figure 285, far left. The main ramshead on den Ary has metal detailing . (L356851, courtesy National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam) Figure 286, near left. Topsail sheet block on Oostrust (AS.58.78, courtesy MAS, National Maritime Museum, Antwerp).

was returned to the tongs for finishing cheek surfaces with a No. 1 file and 220-grit sandpaper. This operation abraded away the jaws, but the tongs were easily squared up and given new jaw pieces. This repair had to be done only three or four times, so was not a problem. Finally the blocks’ outer edges were softened with sandpaper, and the four strop notches were made in the sides with the diamond cutter. Fiddle blocks were shaped similarly although, with concave outlines in both side and front views, they required additional sculpting. The special blocks are shown in Figure 284. Ramsheads are like triple blocks surmounted by an ear with a huge sheave on an opposing axis. Topsail tye blocks were complicated by having three sheaves on two pins; topsail sheet blocks and ramsheads each had two sheave pins, but they were perpendicularly opposed. Both these types appeared with enormously variegated shapes on different models. I copied the ramsheads on den Ary (Figure 285) and the sheet blocks on Oostrust (Figure 286). On contemporary models the topsail lift blocks were the most standardized of the specialized blocks and matched the drawing in Hoving’s book on Tasman’s ships so I followed that.3 The mainstay and forestay and their preventers were tensioned with lanyards rigged between large fittings that had unsheaved holes like deadeyes but were shaped more like blocks; I considered them the latter. I sketched the euphroes I found on contemporary models and in the literature to see if I could track

Figure 288. Sheave grooves and holes in the pearwood strip for a ramshead.

Figure 289. Side view shaped and the front view marked, A, and cutting begun, B.

Figure 290. Sheaves have been shaped; sculpting the edges has been started.

Figure 287. Looking like so many arthropods, euphroes on several contemporary models are arranged chronologically.

Figure 291. Shaping is complete and the brass plates have been added.

150 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS any development of their shapes (Figure 287), but the effort was fruitless and I ended up adapting the shape used on den Ary. On contemporary models, the ramsheads generally had external metal work. Because none of it was load-bearing on the model, I fashioned it from shim brass and applied it to the new wood with epoxy (Figure 291). Only the toprope blocks at the mainmast and foremast ezelshoofden required external metal strops with integral hooks. I used brass for both.

Fiddle or Double? When a tackle required a block with two sheaves, how did riggers decide whether to use a fiddle block or a double block? Both sheaves of a double block are the same size as the sheave in a single block that would be used in the same tackle. However, only a fiddle block’s larger sheave is this size; its other sheave is smaller (Figure 281, page 146). A fiddle block is essentially a larger and smaller single block set in tandem, whereas the double is a pair of twin singles.

les employing single and fiddle blocks, block size is based on the size of the single block that is right for the line. The result is that the fiddle’s smaller sheave will be improperly small for the line. Thus, the advantage would seem to go to the double block with two larger sheaves.

A fiddle block can be made from a stick of the same breadth and thickness as corresponding single blocks, while a double requires somewhat larger lumber. This slight material economy for the fiddle is greatly offset by its shape. Because it has a concave waist all around where its two parts join, it requires considerably more effort (and time) to sculpt than a double block.

Those who have used tackles know that, under load, double blocks tend to cock to one side or capsize. This is because the line travels about twice as far over the sheave nearer the tackle’s hauling end than over the sheave nearer the standing end. When the block goes out of alignment, friction between the sheave and other parts increases dramatically and may make the tackle inoperable. However, a fiddle block will not capsize because the sheaves are in tandem; the effort of both is on the same axis. Further, the larger sheave, which is arguably easier to work, handles the hauling end of the line and only half the line has to travel over the smaller sheave.

Engineers point out that the size of parts in a tackle do not effect its mechanical advantage, but it was known among sailors that, for a given line size, blocks with larger sheaves made work easier. This may be because smaller sheaves require stiff line to take a sharper bends or because larger sheaves provide a longer lever arm (the sheave’s diameter) to overcome friction between the sheave and the pin and the cheek’s inner surfaces. In tack-

Friction was a powerful enemy that fiddle blocks helped beat until roller bearings, more supple line, and more twist-free stropping reduced the tendency of doubles to capsize. Then the double block’s ease of manufacture overcame the fiddle’s mechanical advantage. On Valkenisse there are thirty-six fiddles and eight doubles, a ratio of 4.5 to 1. By the end of the age of sail, fiddle blocks were rarely used.

Belaying Points There seemed to be little organization to early eighteenth century belaying points other than basic port-starboard symmetry. It was as if new gear and sails, as they evolved, were laid over existing systems rather than integrated with them. It was not until nearly the end of the age of sail that rigging leads and belays for all spars and sails were integrated sensibly in a manner I can only think of as architectural orderliness. On many contemporary VOC models there were insufficient belaying points. Thus, at many points, two or more lines were belayed together. It’s hard to believe real ships could work if rigged this awkwardly. The good news was that this apparent disarray was consistent among contemporary models. However, I did not have the resources to trace the lines and belays on all the models to see if there was a scheme. I could pick out of the photographs the basic direction in

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 151 which lines were headed, even if exact belaying points could not be identified. Anderson indicated specific points or general areas for belaying most lines. Dik identified every line’s belay aboard Zeven Proviciën, and Hoving did the same for Tasman’s vessels. I blended information from these sources, a dose of common sense and seamanship, and evidence from the model. I guessed a lot, but believe an eighteenth-century Dutch seaman could find his way around Valkenisse’s rig. A complete roster of belaying points used on Valkenisse is included as Appendix 4.

294 Figure 292. The range spans the head.

292

293

Figure 293. The rail across the shallow beakhead. Figure 294. Belays at the base of the foremast. Figure 295. Rails along the forecastle’s sides, in the background, have belaying pins, but the belfry rail does not. Figure 296. Belaying points at the mainmast. Figure 297. The nine-pin rack on the maindeck bulwark forward of the sun deck.

295

296

Starting in the bow, the first pinrail, or the “range” as Anderson calls it,4 has six pins and is mounted athwartship immediately abaft the figurehead (Figure 292). The rail’s location is so awkward that few lines can lead fairly to it. When I received Valkenisse, the rail across the forward end of the forecastle (Figure 293) was fitted with a pair of staghorns and two posts that are the upright legs of a pair of knees. These four belays were not enough for all lines coming aft from the bowsprit, so I added four belaying pins. Even so, some lines hitch directly to the rail. A pair of bitts stands just ahead of the foremast (Figure 294); they have no pins so lines hitch directly to them. Abaft the mast are two knights. On each side, the forecastle rails hold seven pins spaced between frame heads. All lines there use pins, none hitch to the rails (Figure 295). Low rails flank the belfry at the after edge of the forecastle; on other contemporary models, lines are hitched to this rail with no pins, so I followed suit. The only belaying points in the maindeck waist are two cleats and two staghorns mounted on the bulwarks on each side. There are bitts and a monster

297

152 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS knight just abaft the mainmast (Figure 296) and, under the quarterdeck, a staghorn is mounted on each side between hanging knees. The quarterdeck offers the most belaying options. Forward, the short rail extensions that I added have five pins to port but only four to starboard (because of the smokehead). Next aft on each side are two short pinrails. The forward ones are bored for nine pins (Figure 297) and the after ones for seven, but most of the after rails’ pins could not be used because they are Figure 298, above. Belaying points in the under the sun deck. One staghorn is mounted on each side under the sun mizzen shrouds. deck. There are no bitts, knights, or other belays around the mizzenmast. A vertical, bitt-like kevel is fitted on each bulwark just forward of the quarterdeck bulkhead (Figure 225, page 116). Accessible from the poop deck on each side are five mizzen shroud cleats (Figure 298) and a large regular cleat on the deck margin just ahead of the mizzen topmast backstays. There is a cleat on the centerline just forward of the taffrail. We should not forget the horizontal pins on the three lower masts. The Dutch fittings are called “double-clamps”5 and employ two pins horizontally penetrating a bracket (Figure 299) on each side of the mainmast and foremast (see Figures 294 and 296), and on the fore side of the mizzen. I needed to employ all belaying areas but did not want things too orderly. For instance, it was possible to make lines lead to the forecastle rail from the bowsprit in nice parallel fashion, but this would have contradicted appearance on contemporary models. Figure 299. A sketch of the doubleclamps made for Valkenisse.

Belaying Pins I had to make a batch of kavyn-nagels or korvinagels,6 or belaying pins, because only two came with the model. One was about 28 millimeters long, with 10.6 millimeters of that in the handle; it was lathe-turned boxwood and polished. It was in a maindeck bulwark pinrail and fit its hole perfectly, like it was made for it. It had been broken; its bottom was in the hole, its top was in the bundle. Ironically, I think the rails were in fact made for that pin by Collins. He thought it was original, but never saw the other pin, the one I found it in the limber gap between the ceiling and the keelson. At 27.6 millimeters, this pin was about the same length as the first one, but its head was a slightly larger portion of its length. Most notably, it seemed to have been shaped without a lathe. It was rougher, asymmetrical, and had flats, like it had been chip-carved. I do not know what kind of wood it was, but it was more open grained than boxwood. It was unfinished. It seemed older and more Dutch. For the record, the original is now in the model. It is the forward pin on the starboard nine-pin quarterdeck rail. I used the older pin as the basis for sixty-four new pins. There were two lengths. Longer ones matched the old pins, but a shorter size was required for clearance beneath the forecastle rails. I turned the pins in pearwood on the lathe, but was careful to make their upper portions irregular.

Cleats Two types of cleats were required, although there were none in the bundle. I only found size and location evidence for the pair on the bowsprit near the stem. I made about ten conventional cleats in two sizes of pearwood (Figure

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 153 300, A). They are fastened with 1.0-millimeter copper pins and liquid hide glue in various places. Shroud cleats are a variation on regular cleats. They appear in many places on contemporary models, but only with consistency on mizzen shrouds because there was no rail or bulwark nearby heavy enough to secure rigging. Shroud cleats are smaller than bulwark- or deck-mounted cleats. A shroud cleat’s base is concave to lie against a shroud. The longer the cleat’s base, the less it will twist under load. There is a notch in the cleat’s saddle (Figure 300, B) so the seizing holding it to the shroud is not chaffed by the belayed line.

Parrels Yards are held to masts with parrels. A parrel was a collar comprised of vertical flat sleden, or ribs, that separators spherical rols, or trucks. No original parrel parts survived in the bundle. The ribs were easy to make of pear, but I did not want to have to turn nearly a hundred spheres for the trucks. A friend rescued me by contributing costume jewelry necklaces with thousands of artificial pearls made of some kind of plastic in many sizes (Figure 301). I rinsed them in isopropyl alcohol to remove skin oils and other substances. I sorted them by size, enlarged the holes for rigging line, strung them on rods, and painted them like the blocks and deadeyes (Figure 302).

Figure 300, above. Regular, A, and shroud cleats, B, as drawn for Valkenisse.

Rib and truck sizes were determined by the diameter of the mast and the number of rows of trucks. Basically, the truck diameter and rib thickness must be coordinated so a combination of them reaches slightly more than half way around the mast. The distance between the upper and lower rows of trucks must be such that lanyards pass through them at about the level of the top and bottom of the yard. Main and fore lower yard parrels had three rows of trucks while topsail yards had two (Table 16). For three-row parrels, rib length is about five-fourths the diameter of the mast. The rib width is one-quarter the length. Rib thickness is one-quarter the width. Truck diameter is one-fifth the rib length or about one-quarter the diameter of the mast. For two-row parrels on the main and fore topsail yards, the ribs are somewhat longer than the diameter of the yard. The vertical distance between truck centers is something less than the diameter of the yard, and the trucks should be about three-quarters of their own diameter apart. I scaled the fore topsail yard ribs from those of the main topsail yard, but used the same size trucks. The crossjack yard rigs like the main and fore topsail yards, so it uses a twoFigure 301, left. Costume jewely artificial pearls unstrung, cleaned, and sorted by size. Figure 302, below. Artificial pearls painted to be parrel trucks.

Table 16. Parrels. Number Number of Ribs of Trucks

Location Fore Main Mizzen

Truck Diameter, Millimeters

Lower Yard

Topsail Yard

Lower Yard

Topsail Yard

Yard

Crossjack

154 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS row parrel. But the yard is considerably smaller in diameter and, thus, the mast is considerably larger in proportion. The smaller diameter of the yard calls for shorter ribs, but the larger diameter of the mast calls for larger trucks. Unfortunately, larger trucks won’t work with smaller ribs, so the compromise is to use the smaller ribs and smaller trucks, but more are needed to gird the mast. I decided to use the same trucks as on the fore topmast, but scaled the rib length to the yard diameter. In other words, the mizzen parrel ribs are longer for the diameter of the trucks than the other two-truck ribs.

Rope Making The ship modelers’ material of choice for rigging was and remains linen. Barring laboratory analysis, it seems to have been used on the spars that came in Valkenisse’s bundle. However, as we have seen, the likelihood that these lines were original to the model was slim. Hoving and Lemmers were certain it was not when I showed them a sample (which I transported to the Netherlands and back), and other authorities have written that “Models with their original rigging intact are rare for the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”7

Figure 303. Parrels for the crossjack yard, top, and mizzen yard, bottom.

Procurement of linen line suitable for ship models is difficult today. Several specialty firms direct certain linen products toward ship modelers, but, in all cases, such lines are not laid hard enough, are too fuzzy, are colored badly, or have a sized finish resistant to dyes. For a large job, like Valkenisse, there is simply no choice except to manufacture one’s own rigging. To help preserve the model’s Dutch-ness, I asked Hoving what material Dutch museums were using on their older artifacts. He answered that they lay up their own line from linen thread. When asked about sources and distributors, Hoving once again took me by surprise and offered to have Rijksmuseum provide the linen.8 Hoving and I worked out what sizes of line I might need, and, several weeks later, a parcel arrived with a selection of large and small bobbins of smooth, hard-laid, Barbour linen in several gauges with a consistent finish and a warm ecru color. This was a bonanza. In addition, though, I also used some linen spun in America by the Fawcett company and by Ashaway. While seeking information about Collins’s ownership of Valkenisse, I tracked down his grandson, Clarkson A. Collins, IV, now a Rhode Island resident. While discussing rigging for old models, I said the best linen used for ship modeling in America was the old Ashaway Cuttyhunk twisted fishing line that had been available in many gauges and in black or natural colors but that had stopped being manufactured decades ago. Collins told me the Ashaway plant had been near his home and recalled that when the plant shut down there were “piles” of large reels of linen line that went out in the trash.9 Today we modelers would love to have that trash! The idea of rope making is daunting. The task itself is easy, but fussy, relatively speedy work in the horrendous time sump of repetitious ship model work. Most deeply committed modelers have cobbled up some form of ropewalk, or rope-making machine; the diversity of them might make an interesting study. Designs have been published for some that produce endless line; the machines

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 155 are smaller, but far more complex to build. My advice is to keep it simple unless tool making is your obsession. It is not mine. My ropewalk’s design was freely adapted from the description by C. Nepean Longridge.10 It was made principally of wood. I cannibalized a gear set (Figure 304) from an operating ocean liner model that a client wanted converted to a static model. Power was originally provided with a flex-shaft whose speed was controlled with a foot pedal. Friction was reduced at the spinner with a band saw thrust bearing. The wooden car slid loosely between wooden guides. Tension was manual: I used a string. The top rode on a wire tensioned with a pond model’s turnbuckle. The affair was stunningly primitive, so I was thunderstruck when it worked the first time. Like the shipyard that must lengthen its dry dock to accept a larger contract, I extended my ropewalk to nearly 4 meters, but it could never be too long. The longer the device, the fewer individual line lengths would be required and the less waste there would be. I installed the motor from an old army field dental engine that had already been altered to turn both ways (Figure 305). I refined power control with a household lighting dimmer switch. To make rope, strands of line are stretched between the whorls on the gears at the stationary headstock and the spinner on the moving car. The top is placed to separate the strands just before the spinner. The whorls are set in motion with the motor and strands twist ever more tightly until they flip together into new rope between the spinner and the top (Figure 306). As the rope grows, the top is forced toward the whorls. The overall effect of the strands twisting together is to shorten the distance between the spinner and the whorls, and that is why the car must slide. The finished rope will be shorter than its constituent strands, usually by about 20 percent. In this case, I spun lines that were about 335 scale voeten in length. A motor that can turn in both directions is essential because the lay of the new rope must oppose the lay of its constituent strands or the new rope will unravel. Tension is everything. Back tension with the cord on the spinner controls how tight the lay of the finished rope will be; the tension will be different for each size of new rope. Through the string to the car, I can feel friction in the system build up and can ease or increase tension as needed. Many sizes of new rope can be made from a relatively small assortment of Figure 304, far left. The gear set and whorls. Figure 305, center. A dental engine provides power and a turnbuckle, arrow, tensions the top wire. Figure 306, below. New rope forming between the spinner on the car, left, and the top, right.

156 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS

Figure 307, above. A sample card for one size of line. The base size is at the top, derivative lines are below in a few colors. Figure 308, center. Many sample cards. Figure 309, far right. Cards clipped together to form a simple sample book.

basic material. Before I started spinning line that would actually go on the model, I laid up samples that varied in the weight and number of strands. I prepared a card for each size (Figure 307) and combined the cards to form a sample book (Figure 309) that I used continually while rigging. It was nearly impossible to estimate how much of each size line would be required. Many modelers and historians consider it important to have the lay of the line, either right or left, correct on a model. To get this right on Valkenisse, I studied the older models, but I could not find any consistency. So, on Valkenisse, I paid more attention to spinning line of the right sizes than of the right lay.

Rope Dyeing Lines were needed in two colors: a dark brown that was nearly black to represent tarred standing rigging, and another lighter brown or tan color to represent natural colored hemp for running rigging. For harmony, the two colors had to be visually related, yet not too strong or consistent or they would overpower the model’s generally muted and variegated color scheme. Most traditional fiber coloring methods used on ship models were less than perfect. Colors faded, or dyes contained line-destroying acids or fugitive oils. For Valkenisse, we wanted dyes to be color-fast and inert. Meredith Montague, then the head of textiles and costume conservation at the MFA, encouraged me to use a room-temperature immersion dyeing process with “‘fiber reactive’ or cold water dyes” that would retain their colors when exposed to light better than when exposed to water. As Valkenisse is not a pond model, we felt there would be little chance of the rigging getting wet after it was installed. Montague turned me toward Pro Chemical & Dye, in Somerset, Massachusetts.11

Figure 310. Line loosely wrapped on two dyeing jigs.

At Pro Chemical, I consulted by telephone with Vicki, a technician who offered plenty of good, cheerful advice; sent along a catalog, color chart, and instructions; and recommended that I experiment with combining Pro MX reactive dyes in assorted colors. After I did so, we spoke again and chose four — chino, cocoa, basic brown, and black — from over a hundred.12 I ordered 2-ounce containers of each and a pound of another necessary ingredient, dye activator. These were all powders. I wanted to be able to dye the line for each major rigging step in two dye lots, one for each color, and figured I could do each lot

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 157 in about a gallon of dye bath. I bought a sturdy, plastic 2-gallon container to be a dyeing tub. I learned with even small samples that line had to be controlled when immersed or it would become a Gordian tangle, so I built two simple jigs with plywood and nails to keep line organized (Figure 310). I learned that when line wrapped tightly around the nails was wetted in hot water, it shrank, even if it had been pre-washed in hot water, bent the nails, and slipped off in the dye bath. Thus, it paid to wrap the line loosely. I used scrupulously cleaned glass jars for mixing dye bath and dye activator, and a spanking new set of kitchen measuring spoons and cups for mixing solutions (Figure 311). I spread a layer of paper towels on the work surface so any spilled dye powder would be visible for cleanup. Pro Chemical recommended wearing latex gloves and old clothes, and this was one time I found safety precautions worthwhile. One speck of this dye powder on your shirt renders it a rag.

Figure 311, above. Dye powder (in small jars), dye activator (in baggie), salt, measuring spoons, and mixing containers necessary for dyeing. Figure 312, below. The dyeing jig floating bottom-up in the dye bath.

The dye powders resembled ceramic glazes because final colors could not be easily discerned from their color before use. For instance, the “black” came out a deep, but distinct navy blue. The dye activator was essential to the process. When it was added to the dye bath, the dye’s effect on the line accelerated almost immediately. I followed Pro Chemical’s directions as specifically as possible considering their solution proportions were based on a one-pound fabric weight, and I was experimenting with merely a gram or two. In sample batches, I included line straight off the spool, line twisted into rope, and line twisted into rope after applying bees’ wax to the strands. Briefly, the process involved washing the line, mixing the dye bath, immersing the line, adding the dye activator, rewashing, and drying the line. The multi-

Dyeing 1. 2.

Wind the line onto the dyeing jig, Figure 310. To wash the line, place the inverted dyeing jig in the dyeing tub, Figure 312, and the tub in a sink. Fill the tub with hot tap water to soak the line, and let the water run, so it circulates and stays hot, for about 1 hour. Remove the dyeing jig and line from the tub and leave them damp. Dump the washing water. In the tub, start mixing the Dye Bath by dissolving the measured amount of NaCl (regular uniodized table salt) in hot tap water. This requires substantial mixing because the solution will be nearly supersaturated. Mix the Dye separately by dissolving the measured amounts of dye powders in a clean glass container (a glass peanut butter jar works nicely) and adding hot tap water. Gently pour the mixed Dye into the Dye Bath, being careful not to splash, as the Dye will dye everything it touches.

Gently place the dyeing jig with the line in the Dye Bath, Figure 312. Agitating the jig in the Dye Bath will continually refresh contact between the Dye and the line. Agitate more or less continuously for about 10 minutes while you: 7. Mix the Dye Activator in a separate clean glass container. 8. After agitating the line for about 10 minutes, as in step 6, complete the Dye Bath by adding the mixed Dye Activator. Agitate continuously for another 5 minutes, then once every 5 minutes for 1 hour. 9. Remove the line from the Dye Bath. Discard the Dye Bath. (Pro Chemical says it will not keep for long, anyway, because the Dye Activator has expired.) Rinse the line on the dyeing jig in the tub under running hot tap water while you: 10. Clean everything. When the line has rinsed for 1 hour: 11. Remove the lines from the dyeing jig and hang them up individually, like spaghetti, over a suspended rod or bar. Weight the ends of the line to keep them from twisting together.

158 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS Table 17. Dye Formulas. Nominal Color

Batch Small

Standing Rigging

Running Rigging

Dye Bath H2O

NaCl

1 cup

3 Tablespoons

Dye H2O 1 ounce

Dye Activator H2O

Dye Color 1/ 4 teaspoon Brown 1/ 8 teaspoon Black 3/ 4 teaspoon Brown

1 ounce

Dye Activator 11/ 2 teaspoons

3 ounces

41/ 2 teaspoons

3 teaspoons Brown 11/ 5 teaspoons Black

1.5 cups

4 Tablespoons

2 cups

4 teaspoons Brown 2 teaspoons Black

2 cups

5 Tablespoons + 1 teaspoon

3 Tablespoons

1 ounce

1/ 4 teaspoon Cocoa

1 ounce

11/ 2 teaspoons

3 cups

9 Tablespoons

3 ounces

3/ 4 teaspoon Cocoa

3 ounces

41/ 2 teaspoons

1 gallon

3 cups

2 cups

4 teaspoons Cocoa

2 cups

5 Tablespoons + 1 teaspoon

Medium Small

3 cups

9 Tablespoons

3 ounces

Medium Large

3 quarts

18 dry ounces

1.5 cups

Large

1 gallon

3 cups

Small

1 cup

Medium Small Large

3/ 8 teaspoon Black

step operation consumed about two hours per batch, not including drying. (See the sidebar on dyeing, below.) When I began understanding this interesting system, I modified solution strengths and started mixing dye powders for suitable colors. This consumed lots of time because tests could not be accurately assayed until samples were dry. Independent textile conservator Muffie Austin helpfully pointed out that while Pro Chemical billed the process as “room temperature,” it will happen faster at higher temperatures, and recommended I use water as hot as possible from the tap;13 she was right. I used a stick to level amounts in measuring spoons so proportions could be replicated accurately. The final formulas I used for dyeing are shown in Table 17. I had considered waxing the line before it was laid up so finished line would resist absorbing moisture. Waxing strands on the ropewalk was easy before twisting and made line less likely to unravel. Successful prewaxing would mean I could lay up the rope before dyeing, and this would reduce guess work about how much basic fiber I would have to dye. My principal concern was that wax would prevent dye from penetrating the fibers. When I compared the dyed prewaxed and unwaxed samples, the outer surfaces of the former were distinctly mottled. At first I thought this was okay because the inconsistent look resembled the aged line that came on the model. However, the effect was too strong, so I abandoned prewaxing. In all but the smallest lines, the dye did not penetrate to the very interiors between the strands, but that was okay. The Barbour and Ashaway lines I used, while the same ecru color when dry, were finished differently in manufacture and turned dissimilar colors in the same dye lots. To predict how different stock would react to the same dye, I simply wet samples with water; if they turned the same color, they would likely accept dyes alike. Even thorough washing of dissimilar lines prior to dyeing did not help them take dye the same way.

Rope Work On real ships, rope was machinery. Rope was expensive and was no doubt treat-

RIGGING PREPARATIONS É 159 ed by contemporary seamen with a refined understanding and respect we may take today totally for granted. We know from the artifacts they left behind that sailors commanded a huge and ready store of knowledge about rope. We can assume that tuning the rope machinery of a great sailing ship was as sophisticated a job as tuning a triple expansion steam engine or a gas turbine. I am certain early eighteenth-century rope work was more complex than we generally understand today. On the Valkenisse model I wanted to apply rope work that might have been found aboard the vessel, but goals had to be tempered by the constraints of time and scale and by evidence on other contemporary models. From spending a great deal of time around boats and ships, I have a good working knowledge of basic rope work to apply to model rigging. To amplify this, I turned for specialized guidance to the clear drawings and instructions in The Ashley Book of Knots.14 On Valkenisse, most standing rigging was of larger diameter, hand-laid line that wasn’t as set in its lay as machine-made line. I did not want ends to unravel, and I did not want to saturate them with glue. So, because, the model’s scale permitted — no, demanded — it, I actually whipped the ends of many lines (Ashley, knot 3,442). Also, because there was no reason not to, I made dozens of real splices. I used a clever little implement that I was told is a tool for making hooked rugs (Figure 313). It had a hook, not unlike a crochet hook. But above the hook it had a little hinged cover that flipped down over the hook. When the tool was inserted between the strands of a line, the hinged cover was forced open. The strand to be tucked was inserted in the open hook, then the hook was retracted. As the hinge passed under the strand of the standing part of the line, the cover flipped closed, thus securing the line in the hook which then pulled the strand through cleanly and easily. This little tool proved invaluable for splicing all sizes of the rigging except the heaviest, the line used for the mainstay. This line was easier to splice just using fingers, like a real rope. The overhand knot (Ashley, knot 46) is the simplest of all knots and the clove hitch (Ashley, knot 1,176) is used frequently on ships. But the double overhand knot (Ashley, knot 516) and the constrictor knot (Ashley, knot 1,249) are like the first two on steroids because they have greater gripping power (Figure 314). The former is great for starting seizings. The latter, which Ashley says is “best for the purpose” and “will not slip if tied around a convex surface,” is indispensable for keeping strands of a line together beyond where they have been opened to form a splice. The constrictor is difficult to untie but it can be left in place with the ends trimmed short to no visual disadvantage or it can be cut away. It is ironic that even though stout lines comprise the enormous and complex web of standing rigging, it is the tiny line of the hundreds of seizings that actually holds the rig together. In few cases are ends of standing rigging not dependent on seizings to secure the

Figure 313. Three views of the hook that makes splicing small line easy.

Figure 314. The overhand knot, A, the double overhand knot, B, the clove hitch, C, and the constrictor knot, D. (From Clifford Ashley, The Ashley Book of Knots (Doubleday, a Division of Random House,1944))

160 É RIGGING PREPARATIONS eyes that hold deadeyes, encircle mastheads, blocks, and so forth. I adapted throat seizings (Ashley, knot 3,376) to hold deadeyes in shrouds and round seizings (Ashley, knot 3,388) nearly everywhere else in the rig. The model building literature offers many ways to make both types look good. The trick to overcoming their tedium is to choose a style. Learn to do it mechanically and stick to it both at the workbench, where it is easier, and aboard the model, where it is invariably more awkward. In smaller scale modeling, I find a single size of seizing line works well throughout, but, on Valkenisse, I gauged seizing stuff to the line it was holding; it is all finer sizes of Ashaway Cuttyhunk linen. I thought about recording the sizes and numbers of all the seizings, but decided there were some lists that even I did not need to keep. In ship modeling it is generally the practice when faced with having to make something, such as rigging line, a little too light or a little to heavy in weight to err on the light side. This “lighter is better” rule usually works to the model’s advantage. However, in Valkenisse’s case this was not true. Contemporary VOC models with original or early rigging seem to be over rigged: their rigging is too heavy. So, I had to force myself to err on the heavy side. É

Notes 1

R.C. Anderson, The Rigging of Ships In the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (Centreville, Maryland: Cornell Maritime Press, 1982), p. 93.

Clarkson A. Collins, Jr., letter to J. Templeman Coolidge, 28 October 1928.

Ab Hoving and Cor Emke, The Ships of Abel Tasman (Hilversum, The Netherlands: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2000), p. 72.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 196.

Hoving, interview with author, November 1993.

Jerzy Gawronski, Bas Kist, and Odilia Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, HOLLANDIA Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers b.v., 1992), p. 119; and G.C. Dik, “De Zeven Provinciën,” de Modelbouwer January 1986, p. 30.

Hoving and Alan Lemmers, interview with author, Amsterdam, 17 May 1996; and Brian Lavery and Simon Stephens, Ship Models, Their Purpose and Development from 1650 to the Present (London: Zwemmer, 1995), p. 86.

Hoving and Lemmers, interview with author.

Clarkson A. Collins, IV, interview with author, 19 June 1999.

10 C. Nepean Longridge, The Anatomy of Nelson’s Ships; (London: Percival Marshall & Company Ltd., 1961), pp. 204-209. 11 Meredith Montague, interview with author, 13 July 2001, and e-mail to author, 13 July 2001. 12 Pro Chemical, Vicki, interviews with author, 16 July and 6 August 2001. 13 Muffie Austin, interview with author, 13 August 2001. 14 Clifford W. Ashley, The Ashley Book of Knots (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1944).

Part 11 STANDING RIGGING I divided the job of rigging Valkenisse into several manageable subsets. The first included the lower standing rigging: the gammoning and bobstay for the bowsprit and the shrouds, stays, and side tackles for the mainmast, foremast, and mizzenmast. The second comprised the remainder of the standing rigging including the main, fore, mizzen, and sprit topmast and topgallant shrouds, stays, and backstays. The third included rigging for the main and fore lower and topsail yards and their sails. The fourth embraced the rigging for the rest of the square yards and sails, the fore-and-aft sails, and the anchors. Although I described general processes in Part 10, for each of the four groups I performed separate batches of research, hardware and block making, line manufacturing, and line dyeing. The first subset was the most taxing because all the processes for parts manufacturing had to be developed. With the lower standing rigging in place (Figure 315), all the riddles and risks were answered. The remainder of the rigging was really an extended game of fill-in-the-blank questions. Each line of standing or running rigging was a question, and the answers were determined by the range of evidence in the contemporary record. Having rigged many models in the past, I knew the basic order for installing rigging. However, I wanted to work from as many Dutch sources as possible, but I now found language to be a substantial impediment. Understanding that rigging routines were probably similar in vessels of various nationalities (although details varied), I wanted to employ a source with healthy perspective. I found it in R.C. Anderson’s The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 16001720. Anderson’s schematic sketches did not initially endow me with confidence, but when I compared his descriptions of Dutch rigging with what I found on Dutch contemporary models, I was converted. For each rigging system I read Anderson’s assessment of how it was done in English vessels. He reviewed changes through the century or so covered in the book and then addressed differences worked by Dutch riggers (and those of other nations) through time. His drawings are sort of rigger’s shorthand that explain larger concepts but omit exact arrangements of splices, seizings, and other knotwork. Then, armed with a system’s genesis, I studied all the photographs of contemporary models. In almost all cases, I could follow Anderson’s descriptions on the Dutch models and, consequently, could place their rigging details in a chronology. With Valkenisse dating from the tail end of the spritsail topmast era (and, thus, Anderson’s coverage) and being the earliest of the VOC models, I had to study only a portion of his materials. Not all details on all the models fell into parallel chronologies, but patterns did emerge. For many more complicated systems, like those involving related lines such as the topsail yard lifts and topgallant sheets, I made sketches for each model. Generally, sufficient

Figure 315. The principal lines of the standiing rigging for the lower masts and bowsprit are rigged. The dark objects about midway up the shrouds are the upper blocks for the side tackles.

162 É STANDING RIGGING Table 18. Standing Rigging Line Sizes. All lines are linen. Shaded boxes are nominally brown lines, like running rigging; all others are nominally black.

Lines

Nominal Diameter on Model, Millimeters

Diameter on Ship, Voeten

Nominal Lay on Color Model on Model

Brand

Number

Black

Right

Ashaway

Manufacturer

Twist Formula

Single Block Size, Millimeters

Ratlines

0.55

Mizzen Catharpins

0.62

.064

Black

Right

Ashaway

Sprit Topmast Futtock Shrouds

0.75

.078

Black

Right

Ashaway

Mizzen Shroud Lanyards; Main Preventer & Fore Preventer Stay Lanyards; Mizzen futtock Shrouds; Main, Fore, & Mizzen Crowsfeet; Fore & Main Topmast Shroud Lanyards; Sprit Topmast Backstay Crowsfoot; Fore & Main Topmast Futtocks

0.9

.093

Black

Right

Unidentified

No. 2

1x3

Main, Fore, & Mizzen Crowsfeet Lanyards; Fore & Main Topgallant Backstay Falls; Sprit Topmast Backstay Fall

0.9

0.93

Brown

Right

Unidentified

No. 2

1x3

Main Stay Tackle Guys; Fore, Main, & Mizzen Topmast Backstay Tackle Falls; Fore, Main, & Mizzen Topmast Stay Falls

1.0

.104

Brown

Left

Barbour

2x3

Main & Fore Catharpins

1.0

.104

Black

Right

Ashaway

Main & Fore Shroud Lanyards; Fore Stay Lanyard; Main & Fore Futtock Shrouds; Gunport Lid Lanyards; Mizzen Topmast Shrouds; Mizzen Topmast Backstays; Sprit Topmast Shrouds

1.2

.124

Black

Right

Unidentified

No. 1

1x3

Fore & Main Topgallant Shrouds; Fore & Main Topgallant Backstays

1.3

Black

Left

Barbour

1x3

Main Stay Lanyard; Fore & Main topgallant Stays

1.5

.155

Black

Left

Fawcett

2x3

Mizzen Side Tackle Falls; Main Stay Tackle Falls

1.5

.155

Brown

Left

Fawcett

2x3

Mizzen Side Tackle Pendants; Mizzen Shrouds; Fore & Main Topmast Shrouds; Fore & Main Topmast Backstays; Main Topmast Backstay Runners; Mizzen Topmast Stay

1.6

.166

Black

Right

Barbour

1x3

Fore & Main Side Tackle Falls; Fore & Main Topropes

1.6

.166

Brown

Right

Barbour

1x3

Gammoning

1.7

Black

Left

Fawcett

3x3

Main & Fore Side Tackle Pendants; Main & Fore Shrouds; Fore Preventer Stay & Collar; Bobstay; Mizzen Stay & Collar; Main Stay Tackle Pendants; Main & Fore Topmast Stays

2.5

.26

Black

Left

Barbour

2x3

Main Preventer Stay & Collar

2.9

.30

Black

Left

Barbour

3x3

Fore Stay & Collar

3.8

.40

Black

Left

Ashaway

(2 x 3) x 3

Main Stay & Collar

4.9

.501

Black

Right

Barbour

(2 x 3) x 3

STANDING RIGGING É 163 concurrence could be found to reconstruct Valkenisse’s rig, but, when it was not, I tried to find and follow averages. Please understand that the following does not report step-by-step progress on the rigging because the overall evolution is so well covered in other texts. Rather, I offer notes and observations on specific systems. I recorded sizes, colors, block use, belaying points, and so forth for the principal rigging components, meaning those lines with specific names. The data are summarized in tables. I did not keep track of lines used for strops, seizings, whippings, and the like.

The Bowsprit The bowsprit has little standing rigging considering its mass. Only the gammoning and the bobstay hold the spar down against the pull of the entire rest of the rig. The gammoning lashes the bowsprit’s inner end to the knee-of-the-head. Anderson says that in Dutch ships one gammoning was more common than two,1 and I found this was the case, by a ratio of 6 to 4. Valkenisse had one. To rig the gammoning as Anderson directed required a piece of line 4.5 meters long. The gammoning is by far the longest single line on the model and surpassed my ropewalk’s capacity, so I long spliced two lengths of line together (Ashley, knot 2,692). While rigging the gammoning, the after vertical keeper or fairlead on the starboard side came adrift. I replaced it with liquid hide glue. The new gammoning can be seen in Figures 95, page 73, and 316. The bobstay is a long loop of line that passes through the knee-of-the-head well above the waterline and is seized around a deadeye that sets up to a mate on the bowsprit (Figure 317). A bobstay had been on the model from the time it arrived at the MFA (Figure 1) and was probably installed by the British hand. It remained in place until my rerigging began. Its deadeyes are the only ones I can be sure are in the same location now as when the model left Collins’s ownership.

Main and Fore Lower Masts Side Tackles The first lines on the lower masts were the pendants for the wantakels, or side tackles (Figure 315). On each side there were two on the mainmast and foremast and one on the mizzen. The pendants fit snugly over the mastheads and settled on the bolsters. The upper block of a heavy tackle was turned into each pendant. Most sources show a double block in the forward pendant and a fiddle in the aft pendant on the mainmast; it was reversed on the foremast. All the lower blocks were singles that hooked to long eyebolts at the channels (Figure 318). The eyebolts were mounted slightly inboard of the shrouds to reduce chafe and were bolted to the wales like the mizzen chainplates. If possible, side tackles should be rigged so they do not foul the gunports. I used a temporary line from the mastheads to discover which spaces between shroud deadeyes would be clear. I examined the wales beneath the channels in the wakes of these leads for marks that indicated side tackles had once been fitted. I found them for the mainmast and foremast on both sides of the model. Those

Figure 316, above. From its slot in the knee-of-the-head below the lower cheek, the gammoning ascends between keepers and inboard of the headrails. Its upper portion can be seen in Figure 95, page 73. (Photograph by Peter Hickey) Figure 317, below. The figurehead stares directly at the bobstay.

164 É STANDING RIGGING for the main were holes with surrounding dimples that indicated a nail secured a metal eye to the wale. Evidence for the foremast was not as clear because the holes lacked dimples. When the temporary line was led to these hole locations, I found the side tackles blocked some gunports slightly. The after side tackle for the foremast interfered with a maindeck gunport and the after one on the main crossed a quarterdeck gunport. Contemporary sources showed that, while most rigging did not foul gunports, there were plenty of instances where it did. I felt it was more important to use original hole in the wales than to have clear gunports. Two of the holes contained remains of old iron nails and others were clogged with filler. It was as if the British hand did not understand the holes because he was not familiar with side tackles. When the model fell into Collins’s hands, the holes were all but gone so he made no accommodation for side tackles in the channels.

Figure 318. The starboard main channel. Between maindeck gunports No. 7 and 8, the single lower blocks of the two side tackles hook to long eyebolts that are tucked inboard of the lower shroud deadeyes and nailed to the upper wale. Ten shrouds support each side of the mainmast.

Lower Shrouds Shrouds comprise the principal transverse support system for masts. Shrouds are tensioned at the channels with deadeyes and lanyards. Shrouds are formed in pairs; a shroud begins at one deadeye, goes up and around the masthead where it is seized to form an eye, then goes down to the next deadeye aft on the same side. I had extended my ropewalk so a length of spun line would be long enough to make two pairs of main and fore lower shrouds, a long pair and a short pair. The foremast’s shrouds are shorter than the main’s, and the farther aft each is on its mast, the longer the shroud is because of its rake and its eye’s higher position on the stack of rigging on the masthead. I rigged the shortest foremast pairs first, cutting each from a new length of line, and used the remnant for the longest pairs on the mainmast. In the end, I was fortunate to have husbanded the line. The final lengths were only long enough by half a centimeter! In the early eighteenth century, a good percentage of standing rigging was served. That is, it was wrapped with a protective layer of smaller line. Examples

STANDING RIGGING É 165 of served rigging include the eyes of the shrouds at the mastheads, the entire lengths of the foremost shroud on each mast, the futtock shrouds, and so forth. However, not much service was found on contemporary VOC models that have original or at least early rigging. Thus, Valkenisse has a modest amount of serving. I do not finish deadeye lanyards off right away but leave them for as long as possible so the rigging can settle. If shrouds have softness in their lay, I make them a little shorter, so they can stretch before the final set-up of the lanyards.

Futtocks Shrouds and Catharpins At the top platforms, futtock shrouds transfer the load of the topmast shrouds to the lower shrouds, to which they are connected at horizontal futtock staffs (Figures 319 and 320). The staffs are connected athwartship by catharpins, which hold the shrouds in, against the pull of the futtock shrouds. Futtock staffs are rigged first. Anderson said that a futtock staff was “seized horizontally outside the lower shrouds about as far below the top as the masthead extended above it.” I made new staffs for the main and fore lower shrouds from 2.38-millimeter brass rod and the mizzen staffs from 1.6-millimeter rod. Anderson also said that it was “best to set up the cartharpins before the futtocks shrouds.”2

D E C

B The literature tells us a good deal about rigging catharpins, but they are difficult to see in photographs of models because of their location within so Figure 319, above, and Figure 320, below. Futtock staffs, A, are seized to the shrouds, then catharpins, B, connect the futtock staffs to much other dense rigging in the shadow of the tops. keep the futtock shrouds, C, from pulling the lower shrouds outFrequently, it is barely possible to tell if catharpins board. Futtock shrouds are hooked into the lower ends of the futtock plates, D, which pass through the top’s rim and retain the deadeyes are on a model. I decided to follow Anderson’s for the topmast shrouds. Blocks, E, upper image, are for the stay advice to rig, say, the foremast’s catharpins as two tackle guys. (Photograph below by Peter Hickey) lines that spanned the distance between the futtock staffs.3 Catharpin lines were led around the outside of the shrouds and staffs, the bights were seized close to the shrouds, and the catharpins were served over their lengths. The service tightened the catharpins and this, in turn, set the distance between the staffs. Futtock shrouds were arranged in several ways. Some appeared to be spun like rope directly around the hook in the futtock plate. The futtock shroud line I used resisted laying up this way, so I just gave the two legs of a shroud a twist or two.

Ratlines Weeflijnen, literally weave-lines, or ratlines, cross the shrouds to provide a ladderway for sailors to get aloft. On models, they also help stabilize shrouds. I asked Hoving about ratlines in van Yk, and he wrote, “van Yk does not mention them with a word,” so I did not waste time there. Generally ratlines were clove hitched

D C A

166 É STANDING RIGGING to each shroud they crossed, except for the forward and aftermost where the ratline ends had eye splices that were seized to the shrouds. Anderson doubted that seventeenth-century “ratlines were eyespliced at each end as they were at the end of the” eighteenth century.4 In other words, he suggests that the practice was in transition in Valkenisse’s time. Regardless of actual practice, however, I had to find a consensus for how ratlines were done on models, not on ships. British-hand ratlines in the bundle were clove hitched to the foremost and aftermost shrouds only and were secured to intermediate shrouds with overhand knots. I had never seen this arrangement on any other ship model. Where they could be distinguished on all the VOC models save one, Bleiswijk, ratlines were clove hitched to every shroud. On Bleiswijk, the forward end of each ratline was half-hitched to the shroud. In cases where I could not actually see what sort of actual knot was employed, I was able to see that same kind was used on every shroud because bumps and shadows in photographs were the same. Only the unidentified Meereskunde model has ratlines that do not cross every shroud. On it, main and fore ratlines stop on the second shroud. Petrejus suggests this kept the foremost ratlines’ hitches from being chafed by the sails.5 I clove-hitched the ratlines to every shroud. Ratline size and spacing is not determined by the size or use of a vessel, but by the size of men, their stride, and their weight. So ratlines are about the same for all vessels. The size of ratline stuff is 11/ 2 inches, according to John Davis, but this was for circumference and should be reduced to about 1/ 2 inch for diameter. Table 19. Ratline Spacing. Shaded cells indicate contemporary sources. Reference Vessel

Distances on Vessels

Nationality Date

In Source

Converted to Centimeters

In Voeten

Model Distances 1:29.3 Scale, Centimeters

1642

39 centimeters

1.38

1.33

1665

15-16 duimen

38.1 to 40.6

1.35 to 1.43

1.30 to 1.38

Author

Source (Publication Date)

Hoving

The Ships of Abel Tasman (2000)

Dutch

“De 7 Proviciën” ( 1983)

Dutch

Dik Anderson

The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (1927)

1692

16 English inches

40.6

1.43

1.38

Anderson

The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (1927)

1719

16 English inches

40.6

1.43

1.38

Elements and Practice of Rigging and Seamanship (1794)

English

1794

13 English inches

33.0

1.17

1.13

Anderson

The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (1927)

English

1800

12 to 13 English inches

30.5 to 33.0

1.08 to 1.17

1.04 to 1.13

Lever

The Young Sea Officer’s Sheet Anchor (1819)

1819

12 English inches

30.5

1.08

1.04

Petrejus

Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE (1970)

1826

12 English inches

30.5

1.08

1.04

Petrejus

Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE (1970)

1838

10 English inches

25.4

0.9

0.87

Smyth

The Sailor’s Word Book (1867)

1867

15 to 16 English inches

38.1 to 40.6

1.35 to 1.43

1.30 to 1.38

186014 to 15 1880 English inches

35.6 to 38.1

1.26 to 1.35

1.22 to 1.30

Steel

Anderson

The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (1927)

English

STANDING RIGGING É 167 Anderson said ratline spacing was “a little uncertain.”6 It was impossible to measure in photographs, so I reviewed the literature and summarized my findings in Table 19. I decided to space ratlines 1.33 centimeters apart on the model. This converts to about 1 voet 4 duimen on the vessel. On models whose rigging is known to be new, like Anderson’s on Bataviase Eeuw, ratlines are about scale size. But on contemporary models with early rigging, the ratlines are overscale, so mine are, too. I decided to use ready made line because I would need a great deal of it, and, if I spun it myself, I would have a lot of waste from short lengths. Petrejus suggests leaving ratlines until the topmast shrouds are rigged.7 However I had to finish as much as possible before removing the dust cover, a task that would come before stepping the topmasts. Figure 321. The ratline gauge or template in position.

I made a template (Figure 321). In Quark Xpress, I drew a horizontal line, then repeated the line at 1.33-centimeter intervals. I printed a couple of these pages and rubber cemented them to foamcore. The template was as tall as the longest run of shrouds. I placed the template inboard of the shrouds and clipped it on with spring clamps. This provided an accurate guide for spacing, and, with the foremost and aftermost shrouds clipped to the template, I did not have to worry about bowing in the shrouds with the ratlines, an unsightly problem when ratlines are too taut. To calculate how much line the ratlines would use, I determined with the template the number needed for each shroud group. I averaged the longest and shortest ratline in each group and multiplied this by the number of ratlines. Then I added the length that would be consumed by each clove hitch, a surprising 8 millimeters, and remembered the clove hitches would use more Table 20. Ratline Counts. Some figures are rounded for convenience.

Number of Shrouds

Mast

Sprit Fore

Top Lower Top

Main

Lower Top

Mizzen

Lower Top

Number of Ratlines

Number of Hitches AxB

Length in Hitches .8 x C, Centimeters

Range of Lengths, Centimeters

Average Length, Centimeters

Overall Length for Mast (B x F) + D, Centimeters

Mast

2 to 3

2.5

Mast

297

238

6 to 24

733

Futtocks

5 to 8

6.5

Mast

180

144

3 to 8

5.5

309

Mast

340

272

8 to 31

952

Futtocks

5.5 to 8.5

Mast

204

164

3 to 8

5.5

351

Mast

150

120

3 to 14

390

Futtocks

3 to 4

3.5

Mast

3 to 4

3.5

101

Hitches, one side

1,342

Length of Ratline Stock, one side

3,059

Hitches, both sides

2,684

Length of Ratline Stock, both sides

6,118

168 É STANDING RIGGING line where the shrouds were doubled above the deadeyes. See Table 20. In all, Valkenisse consumed 65 meters of ratline stock; the longest single one stretched 0.6 meter. Rigging ratlines is called “rattling down” because, contrary to what one would think, ratlines are installed from the top down so they are parallel to the futtock staff, which is horizontal. Ratlines are not gauged from the deadeyes, which follow the sheer. Initially I left off the ratlines that crossed the shrouds where they were seized to their deadeyes. This permitted adjustment to shroud tension, if necessary, until the rigging was complete. The lowest ratlines were among the last lines rigged on the model. A perennial model rigging problem is getting ratlines to drape or sag naturally between the shrouds. I knew I would have to apply a binder coating to give them “gravity.” I tried brushing diluted liquid hide glue on a sample and shaping the drapery before the glue set. Although messy, this worked, but the glue hardened shiny and brittle. In the end, I used a solution of acryloid B-72 diluted enough to penetrate the strands of the line. As it dried, I curved the ratlines downward with my fingers. B-72 dries invisible. Anderson says rattling down is “monotonous” and “interminable.”8 I find it daunting, but, once started, I ascend into the rhythym of it. If I do not, it is difficult to tension the ratlines alike. Rattling requires sitting or standing in a single position for long periods, and this puts my lower back out of sorts. To avoid this, I rattle one group of shrouds, then take a break. Once the tempo is found, ratlines get woven onto the shrouds quickly enough.

Lower Mast Stays Petrejus wrote, “For the expert rigger an old-time stay is really something to feast on.” Anderson said, “the attachment of the stays to the mastheads is easy to explain but not easy to do.”9 The mainstay and forestay are by far the heaviest rigging lines on Valkenisse. They lead from the tops down and forward. The mainstay secures at the stem, the forestay on the bowsprit. There are preventers, or lighter ancillary stays, associated with the mainstay and forestay, but the mizzenstay, which leads to the mainmast, is on its own. The manner of fitting the massive lines varied, but the basics are the same.

Figure 322. A sketch of how an eye in the stay’s end fetches up against a mouse, A, to make a large loop. (From E.W. Petrejus, Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE (Hengelo: Den Esch,1947))

An eye just larger than than the stay’s diameter is spliced in the upper end of the stay. A large fiber stopper called a mouse is raised some distance from the eye. The stay’s other end is passed through the eye until it fetches up against the mouse (Figure 322). The result is a large loop that rides over the masthead. The stay is made this way so it can be replaced without having to remove the top and other masthead gear. A stay’s tensioning system is at its lower end, and, for the mainstay and forestay, consists of two heavy blocks connected with a lanyard. The blocks are actually more like large deadeyes because they don’t have sheaves. Further, the line connecting them is called a lanyard rather than a tackle or fall. The blocks’ shapes differ substantially among source models. See the examples on Oostrust, Figure 30, page 32, and Bleiswijk, Figure 55, page 39. On

STANDING RIGGING É 169 Figure 323, left. The pairs of stay blocks for the mainstay and main preventer abaft the foremast. The false stay for setting the main staysail tensions with a pair of deadeyes, arrows, below the large forward stay block. Figure 324, right. The long collars for the mainstay and main preventer are seized around a stay block abaft the foremast, pass forward of the mast, then twist 180 degrees. The collars lead under a structural member of the head. The splices are on the upper leg at the cross.

some, the blocks are chunky, on others they are rounded and shapely. The number of holes in them vary. I decided the block shape and lanyard arrangement shown by Dik could be found in the sources the most often, so I used his system. Mainstay tensioning is entirely abaft the foremast, Dutch fashion (Figure 323). The lower block is turned into the collar. The collar’s most curious feature was its 180-degree twist between the foremast and the bowsprit. Hoving carefully pointed this Dutch feature out to me on every model we observed. The loop of the collar was closed with a simple short splice (Ashley, knot 2,635). In all cases I could see, the leg that passed the foremast on the starboard side always crossed over the other leg. The splice was at the crossing, on the upper leg. The forward loop of the collar passes under the bowsprit, and sets up against the fore side of the stem (Figure 324). The collar was served where it passed the knightheads, bowsprit, stem, and other sharp-edged features at the bow on only one contemporary model, Oostrust. On one, den Ary, the legs disappeared into faired holes in the forecastle, and the collar couldn’t be observed. On two, Seven Provinces and Bataviase Eeuw, both rigged by the English Anderson, I could not see in photographs that the legs of the collar crossed.

The Mouse A mouse was not a symmetrical bump. One end was fatter than the other, like a pear.10 Most sources show the stay’s eye settled against the smaller end of the pear. When rigged this way, the mouse will continue to force open the eye and the eye will slip further onto the mouse. Some sources, however, show the eye settled against the blunt end of the pear, which is a firmer arrangement. I had always assumed the former arrangement was normal, but the Dutch tended to arrange things so the eye sets against the heavier end of the mouse. Unfortunately, I did not realize this until the stays were on the model and I could not reverse what I had done. To raise a mouse in real life, as described for instance by Lever,11 would be difficult in miniature, and most model-making sources espouse simplification. The simplified methods seemed to agree with how the fittings look on contemporary VOC models. For the basic structure, I employed a scheme shown by Anderson and Petrejus.

170 É STANDING RIGGING To lay a mouse’s foundation, I wrapped the stay with soft crochet cotton (Figure 325). The wrapping determined the mouse’s bulk and shape. I bonded the foundation’s surface with a heavy coat of acrylic matte medium. When it was dry, I rolled the mouse on the bench top to smooth its surface.

Figure 325, above. Three basic steps in raising a mouse on a stay. (From E.W. Petrejus, Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE (Hengelo: Den Esch,1947)) Figure 326, right. The finished mouse on the mainstay, below, and main preventer on Valkenissse. (Photograph by Peter Hickey)

I wove the covering with 0.7-millimeter linen using a method described by Anderson and Longridge.12 This took a certain amount of finesse, but I learned several secrets. First, make the top and bottom lashings tight. Second, space the vertical turns (the warp of the weave) evenly around the stay. Third, leave lots of slack in the warp because it will tighten as the weave progresses. Fourth, when weaving in the round turns (the weft of the weave), do not pass the needle over and under several strands of the warp at once to try and save pull-through time because this will distrupt warp spacing. Fifth, it is easier to control tension if the weft is started at the small end. Sixth, the weft will creep ahead irregularly so use the needle as a beater to adjust the weave. Seventh, use a dulled needle; a sharp point will catch individual fibers annoyingly, but a dull needle will find a passage between them.

Crowsfoot A crowsfoot was a fan-shaped system of line that prevented the lower edges of topsails from chafing on and catching under the tops (Figures 327 and 328). They were rigged to the tops of stays or preventers with a euphroe, a long strip-like block with many sheaveless holes. These systems were rigged easily on the model. They were patterned after those on contemporary models and instructions in Anderson.13

Figure 327, above. Main and fore crowsfeet required fourteen holes in the top rims and seven-hole euphroes; the mizzen crowsfoot required ten rim holes and a five-hole euphroe. Bights within tops may or may not cross over top timbers. Dots mark ends of crowsfeet. Figure 328, right. A crowsfoot is tensioned with a tackle, arrow, at the lower end of the euphroe. This euphroe was replaced with the one in Figure 326.

STANDING RIGGING É 171

Stay Tackles Stay tackles were used to move heavy equipment and stores. On most VOC models, they seem to have been either simplified or omitted altogether (Figure 329). There should be a stay tackle on each side of the main stay. For each, a heavy pendant hitched to the main masthead above the stack of shrouds and passed down and forward, generally, but not always, outboard of the legs of the mainstay and preventer. Each pendant extended roughly parallel to the stay and an eye was turned in at the lower end, which was about centered over the waist. To the eye was attached a large fiddle block, which was, in turn, rigged via a fall to a single block hooked somewhere on deck. Another small single block is secured to the pendant eye just above the fiddle block. This block is for a guy that supports the pendant from the under the foretop (Figure 319, E, page 165). The manner of joining the fall and guy blocks to the pendant varies in most examples. There were three likely places to hook the lower end of the stay tackle fall: at the forward ledge of the main hatch, somewhere on the inboard side of the bulwarks,

Figure 329, above. Stay tackles on Bleiswijk, Padmos/Blydorp, de Barbersteyn, and den Ary are virtually identical; all lower ends hook to eyes on the aft beam of the forecastle. I drew Bleiswijk's starboard tackle, which was hanging free, but the port tackle is like the others. Den Ary has an extra tackle to the main hatch, her stay tackle pendant passes inside the mainstay collar, and the guy hooks to an eye under the outer corner of the foretop. The guy on Padmos/Blydorp secures under the foretop near the trestletrees. Bleiswijk's and Barbersteyn's stay tackles are outside and above the main stay collars; guy blocks are somewhere under the foretop, Bleiswijk's is probably on the trestletrees. Stay tackles on Jonge

Jacob, Oostrust, and d' Gerechtigheid are also very similar, but the guys are higher on the stay tackle pendants. Jonge Jacob's guy pendant is secure to the fore masthead over the the rigging stack and the guy belays on the forecastle rail. D' Gerechtigheid's stay tackle pendant is hitched to the masthead above the rigging stack. The tackle fall leads awkwardly to the foot of the mainmast, and the guy disappears under the foretop. The image of de Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia was not clear enough to clarify, but the stay tackle pendant is above other main rigging at the masthead and the single-part guy disappears close under the foretop. Oostrust's guy is on a pendant.

Figure 330, left. Valkenisse’s stay tackle pendant, tackle, and guy with line and block sizes in millimeters. Figure 331, right. The eye of each stay tackle pendant, A, has an early metal round thimble which holds the hook for the stay tackle fiddle block, B. Single blocks for the guys, C, are also hooked to the pendants. For easier comparison with Figures 329 and 330, this image has been flipped.

A B

172 É STANDING RIGGING or on the aftermost forecastle beam. I could find on Valkenisse no evidence of eyes in either of the first two locations and the latter was by far the most prevalent on other models. As the forecastle beam was from the Collins era, placing new fittings there would be non-invasive, so I chose that location. The sizes of lines and blocks used in Valkenisse’s stay tackles are shown in Figure 330.

I scavenged many round metal thimbles from the rigging in the bundle. They were not uniform in size or material, but they were stylistically fine for Valkenisse. I found homes for them in the stay tackles and backstays, but did not keep track of their specific locations or sizes.

Topmasts

Topmasts are raised into position with topropes. A toprope starts at the lower mast’s ezelshoofd, goes down through a sheave or sheave hole in the topmast heel, returns to the cap on the other side, passes through a block, and leads to the deck. Pulling on the toprope raises the topmast, which is guided upwards, like a missile in a silo, past the trestletrees, crosstrees, and cap. Larger topmasts, like those on Valkenisse, sometimes had two topropes. Toprope blocks are relatively easy to see in contemorary sources, but topmast heels are not. I could not confirm if any topropes were tailed by falls alongside the lower masts. Topropes were not always rigged on models, and I found no instances of the them rigged on topgallant masts, which were raised the same way. I made four special toprope blocks (Figure 332). To hang close against A the lower masthead, they are thinner than standard pattern single blocks for the same size of line, and they have external iron strops with hooks for eyes under the caps. Lower deadeyes for the topmast shrouds were secured to edges of the tops with futtock plates, which were described earlier. Otherwise, topmast shrouds and their ratlines follow the same pattern as the lower shrouds.

B Figure 332, top, in two parts separated by a dashed line. Topropes hook to the underside of the ezelshoofd, A, pass through sheaves in the heel of the topmast, B, up through iron-stropped blocks, C, and finally to the deck. Notice one bight of the crowsfoot crosses a top timber, the other does not. (Upper part: photograph by Peter Hickey) Figure 333, above. All the main backstays hook to eyes in the main rail. There is a pair of topmast backstays, A, the after one of which includes an extra runner, B. The lighter weight topgallant backstay, C, is almost at the mizzen channel. Figure 334, right. Valkenisse’s topmast backstays and stays with line and block sizes in millimeters.

Topmast support extends to the hull in the form of backstays. While their arrangment varies widely from source to

STANDING RIGGING É 173 source, they all set up with complex tackles to eyebolts outboard in the ship’s side. The tackles make adjustment to different sailing conditions easier to manage than deadyes and lanyards. I based Valkenisse’s topmast backstays (Figures 333 and 334) on evidence of eyebolts in appropriate locations on the model. Generally, main backstays set up at the level of the channels. However, on Valkenisse, there was evidence of three eyebolt holes in the main rail, so I used them, but had to drill holes for a new one on each side near the upper forward corner of the No. 10 maindeck gunports. For the foremast, I only found one old hole on the starboard wale at the level of the upper backing link bolts. I used this as a guide for the fore topmast backstays and drilled a new hole abaft it for the eyebolt for the topgallant backstay. I drilled two new holes for the port eyebolts. Abaft the mizzen channel, the main rail was fairly sick with old eyebolt holes, so no new ones were necessary. I wanted to use as many original eyebolts as possible and rearranged them so all those for main and mizzen backstays are original, but the foremast has the new ones. Main and mizzen topmast stays always led into the top of the mast ahead. The leads appeared to go to the top of rigging eye stack, to the bottom of the stack, or to an eyebolt in the top abaft the stack. The leads either ended in the top or turned downward through a block to set up below, probably with a fiddle-blocked luff tackle hooked to a deck eyebolt near the mast. This is the arrangement I selected. The fore topmast stay leads directly to its tensioning tackle and lead block on the bowsprit abaft the sprit topmast (Figure 335). To rig it, I installed two new brass eyebolts, one in the sprit topmast knee and the other in the center top timber in the sprit top. In Valkenisse’s mainand foremast, a staple was set in the after side between the cheeks. I thought these staples might have been for the lower ends of the main and mizzen topmast stays, but there is no evidence in the source material that these lines ever led to this point. I left the staples empty.

Topgallant Masts On conetemporary models, I found four basic styles used to strop topgallant shroud deadeyes. The first was used on the Anderson-rigged models that are currently in Great Britain, Bataviase Eeuw and Seven Provinces; a line was seized or spliced around the deadeye, passed through a hole in the crosstree, turned over the topmast shroud futtock staff and secured. In this arrangement the strop and futtock shroud are one piece of line. The second type of strop, found on Oostrust and Jonge Jacob, was fashioned from wire like the lower mast deadeye strops on Valkenisse. The third type, found on d’ Gerechtigheit, Bleiswijk, and de Barbersteyn, were sawn plates like Valkenisse’s topmast shroud futtock plates. Finally, on the model in the Zuiderzeemuseum, there was no representation of topgallant shrouds tensioning devices at all; shrouds simply passed through holes in the crosstrees, turned over the futtock staffs, and secured. For the sake of consistency aloft,

Figure 335, above. Forces from the fore topmast stay, arrow, are distributed to the bowsprit through a bifurcated tackle, the fall of which leads inboard. Figure 336, below. Topgallant shroud deadeye strops are made of wire like those for lower shrouds at the channels. Because the forward crosstrees curve forward, the topgallant yard fouls the forward topgallant shrouds. There are no ratlines on these shrouds, and the topmast stay has a mouse like the lower stays.

174 É STANDING RIGGING Figure 337, right. Topgallant backstays as rigged on six models. Den Ary's fore topgallant backstay's lower block is seized to the topmast backstay's runner block. Figure 338, far right. Valkenisse’s topgallant backstays with line and block sizes in millimeters. Figure 339, below. The main topgallant masthead. The pole is not supported by shrouds, although crosstreees are bored for them. The stay has a spliced loop; there is no mouse. The flag halyard, arrow, belays directly on its pole. The gate on the ezelshoofd will be painted after final stepping of the pole.

it might have been better to use the third style, but there was not room in the crosstrees for holes large enough for plates. I decided to use the second style (Figure 336). There was not much variation among the old models in the fitting of topgallant backstays, Figure 337; I rigged them as found on Jonge Jacob, de Barbersteyn, and d’ Gerechtigheid (Figures 333 and 338). I had already rattled down the main and fore topgallant shrouds out of habit when Hoving asked if I really wanted to do so. He was right again. Topgallant shrouds were bare more often than not. Anderson agreed.14 Ironically, in both Dutch models Anderson rigged, Bataviase Eeuw and Seven Provinces, he rattled the topgallants. I took my topgallant ratlines off Valkenisse. Like the masts below them, the topgallants have trestletrees and crosstrees at their heads. However, no shrouds are rigged on them to support the poles. (Figure 339).

Sprit Topmast The three sprit topmast shrouds on each side are like those on other masts. However, there was little agreement about how their lower deadeyes secured to

Figure 340. Sprit topmast backstays in approximate chronological order. On the Meereskunde model, it passes by the fore topgallant stay and rigs to the forestay; Bleiswijk's rigs to the fore preventer; all others rig to the fore topmast stay. On the Meereskunde model there is a set of bridles to port and another to starboard; they must have chafed. The lower euphroe on the Zuiderzeemuseum model probably has three bridles, but two are gone. The standing end of the fall on Jonge Jacob and the Zuiderzeemuseum model is hitched to the mast above the rigging stack. The Meereskunde model, Zuiderzeemuseum model, and Bleiswijk do not show leads down the mast, the others may or do.

STANDING RIGGING É 175 the sprittop. For consistency, I used the same futtock plate system as at the main and fore tops. Because it looks good, emulates the main and fore catharpins, and was easy, I used a futtock shroud arrangement for models noted by Anderson, though he said its actual use on vessels was “rather doubtful.”15 The sprit topmast has a single backstay. The tackle was arranged differently on most models (Figure 340). On Valkenisse, I set the tackle up to the fore topmast stay where its load is distributed by four bridles through a euphroe (Figures 341 and 370, page 186).

Figure 341. Valkenisse’s sprit topmast backstay with line and block sizes in millimeters.

Notes 1

R.C. Anderson, The Rigging of Ships In the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (Centreville, Maryland: Cornell Maritime Press, 1982), p. 87.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 111.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 114, figure 122.

Albert Hoving, e-mail to author, 21 January 2003; and The Rigging of Ships, p. 129.

August Koester, Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries (New York: E. Weyhe, 1926), pl. 36; and E.W. Petrejus, Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE (Hengelo, Holland: N.V. Uitgeversmaatschappij “De Esch,” 1970), p. 189.

John Davis, The Seaman’s Speculum or Compleat School-Master (London: Eben Trecey, 1711), p. 81, From Nautical Research Guild facsimile, 1985; and The Rigging of Ships, p. 130.

Petrejus, Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE, p. 188.

The Rigging of Ships, pp. 129-130.

Petrejus, Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE, p. 189; and The Rigging of Ships, p. 97.

10 C. Nepean Longridge, The Anatomy of Nelson’s Ships (London: Percival Marshall & Co Ltd., 1961), p. 220. 11 Darcy Lever, The Young Sea Officer’s Sheet Anchor or a Key to the Leading of Rigging and to Practical Seamanship (New York: Edward W. Sweetman Co., 1963, facsimile of second edition of 1819), p. 10. 12 The Rigging of Ships, pp. 98-99; and Longridge, The Anatomy of Nelson’s Ships, pp. 220-221. 13 The Rigging of Ships, pp. 130-131. 14 Hoving, e-mail to author, 3 March 2003; and The Rigging of Ships, p. 130. 15 The Rigging of Ships, p. 127, fig. 140.

Part 12 RUNNING RIGGING I became focused and worked longer hours while installing running rigging, but there were still hundreds of tasks to do. With rigging as detailed as Valkenisse’s, each line might require several splices, servings, seizings, and strops. Stepped-up concentration helped me retain complex and unfamiliar systems in mind. I made dozens of schematic drawings of rigging systems that would lose their meaning if I took a break, so I kept working. Unfortunately, real note-keeping lagged; I have few written rationales for this part of the project’s decision making. Running rigging makes the ship work. On a model as large as Valkenisse, spars and blocks have appreciable weight and hang realistically. It was a thrill to start heaving yards into place with halyards, hauling the yards into the masts with parrels, and reeving off tackles.

Main and Fore Lower Yards At last it was time to cross the main yard and fore yard. They rig the same way. Valkenisse’s colossal main yard is actually almost an English yard long. It is raised aloft and suspended there by its tye, a heavy line that hitches to the yard at the slings, or middle, passes over the grooves in the ezelshoofd (that is why it is humped), reeves through the upper sheave in the ramshead, the ship’s largest block, then reverses course on the other side to hitch again on the yard. The halyard itself forms a tackle between the ramshead and the sheaves in the large knight abaft the mainmast (Figures 342 to 344). A parrel must allow its yard to rotate horizontally (by trimming the braces) and vertically (by trimming the lifts and sheets).

Figure 342, above. The main yard is supported by the ends of the heavy tye which hitch to the yard inside the yard cleat. Inboard of the tye, the parrel lanyards wrap around the yard. A few parrel ribs and trucks are visible. Notice the yard rings. Figure 343, near right. In the foretop. The tye lays in the grooves atop the ezelshoofd, then passes down abaft the masthead. Notice the upper blocks, A, for the stay tackle guys and the main topmast stay passing through a large single block, B, abaft the rigging eyes. Figure 344, far right. The tye passes through the ramshead’s upper sheave. The yard is actually hauled aloft by the halyard that is rove off between the three lower ramshead sheaves and the knight.

B A

RUNNING RIGGING É 177 It must be adjustable so the yard can be raised and lowered on the mast and so the yard can be eased forward to allow bracing for sailing hard on the wind. Parrels are controlled from the deck. They are simple enough in theory, but John Harland said they must have been “a nightmare” to use because they would “bind or stick during hoisting or lowering.” Exactly how main and fore yard parrels were arranged in antiquity seems to have eluded many modern researchers. Anderson said vaguely, “they should be rigged in some way that will work, that is to say that will allow of being set up or slacked off.”1 He said there is little consistent contemporary information about them. If the literary record is unclear, it would seem the model record would also be unclear or, at best, inconsistent. However, it was hard to find out because, at their interior location, parrels are difficult to see on models, especially in photographs (Figure 345). Various authors provide schemes for rigging the one or more lines that string together the parrel ribs and trucks like a necklace and connect them to the yard. Dik offers overly complex asymmetrical solutions. Hoving’s answer did not work for me. I developed a simple symmetrical system, but its knot work had to be done entirely in situ, within the matrix of rigging converging under the tops, so my plan was no good, either. I fell back on one of Anderson’s suggestions for leading both ends of the line to the deck so the falls would be symmetrical. 2 This was adjustable and looked agreeably complex. Lower yard lifts are easy enough, and I found little inconsistency in them on contemporary models. On each side a long pendant is spliced to an eye in the side of the ezelshoofd. Crone agreed Valkenisse should have

A B Figure 345, above. Parrels holding lower yards to masts are generally difficult to isolate in photographs. The parrel is tensioned with a pair of falls (see Figure 364, B, page 184). Notice the catharpins. To the lower left of the parrel, arrow, a horizontal line is connected to a deadeye whose lanyard disappears ahead of the mast. This is the yard’s footrope. Figure 346, right. Long pendants, A, carry the lower yard lift blocks, B, outboard of the topmast shrouds. It is easy to see that hauling on the lift’s running end, C, will pull the block down before raising the yard.

178 É RUNNING RIGGING

Figure 349, above. Main brace turning block, arrow, at the poop deck margin. The mizzen sheet leads to the double block on the standard knee for the ensign pole.

Figure 347, left. The fore yard on Bleiswijk. The brace pendant hitches around the yardarm, A, and terminates in a stopper knot, B, at the block. (Courtesy Collection Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, the Netherlands) Figure 348, right. A lower yardarm on Valkenisse. The brace pendant, A, hitches to the yard. The lift, B, passes over the smaller sheave in the sheet block. Notice the studdingsail boom iron, C, and its sheet block, D.

“very long pendants.” 3 The outer end of the pendant is well outboard of the topmast shrouds and is fitted with a special lift block (Figures 284, page 148, and 346). The lift itself runs between this block and the smaller sheave in the pear-shaped topsail sheet block at the end of the yard. The running end leads from the lift block to the deck. With the long pendants, there is the problem that much of the energy used to haul on the lift will simply pull the lift block down, thus reducing substantially its effectiveness and power. There seemed to be little concern that lift pendants would have fouled topmast shrouds and ratlines when the yards were raised or braced around. It seems like model riggers only cared for the fair leads of lines in a

Figure 350, below. Valkenisse's main, fore, and mizzen braces. Dots on the ends of hooked brace block pendants represent doubled wall and crown stopper knots. The main braces rig to the quarters. The fore braces hitch to a span on the mainstay; their lower lead blocks are inside the waist bulwarks. The fore topsail and topgallant braces hitch to mainmast

stays. The main topsail braces’ lead blocks are seized to the No. 1 mizzen shrouds. The main topgallant braces’ lead blocks are seized to the No. 1 mizzen topmast shrouds. All mizzen braces rig to the No. 10 main shrouds, but the crossjack and topsail yard braces cross to the opposite sides. Block and line sizes are in millimeters.

RUNNING RIGGING É 179 model’s formal setting. I wonder if in actual practice these leads were moved when the vessels were sailing. Brace pendants hitch to their yards (Figures 347 and 348). A small eye is turned into the end of the pendant, and the pendant is passed around the yardarm and through the eye. This means the pendant can be changed without taking other rigging or studdingsail gear off the yardarm. A stopper knot is turned into the pendant’s hauling end and sets up against the brace block’s strop, which is seized so the stopper will not slide out. Pulling on the brace bends the pendant at nearly 90 degrees where it passes through the strop. This seems a likely place for failure, but the arrangement is nearly universal on contemporary VOC models. Most sources indicated that standing ends and turning blocks for the main braces were as high and as far aft on the sides as possible, but I found no eyebolts or holes for them that were symmetrical on both sides. To port there was an old steel eyebolt in the bulwark molding at the height of the uppermost horizontal element of the quarter gallery. To starboard the same molding was, I believe, a Collins-era repair, and there was no hole in it, yet. I used this location for the standing end, drilling a new hole for the starboard eyebolt. There was no guidance on the model for the turning blocks. To place them high and aft, I installed new eyebolts right aft in the poop deck margins; these were Collins-era work and the margins he replaced might have originally held the necessary eyes (Figure 349). The fore braces lead to turning blocks far forward in the waist. I mounted them as low as possible on new eyes in new holes abreast the forecastle accommodation ladders. Figure 350 shows the leads for all the main, fore, and mizzen braces on Valkenisse. Yard tackles were used to move heavy items. The tackles’ standing blocks were secured near the main and fore yardarms, and the tackles were slung below the yards. They do not appear on the contemporary VOC models I studied, so I omitted them from Valkenisse. Three lines converge at a lower square sail’s clew, or lower and outer corner. The sheet pulls the clew aft, the tack pulls the clew forward, and the clewline pulls the clew up and inboard for furling the sail. On a vessel or a model, the lines meet differently depending on whether or not sails are bent. On VOC ships of Valkenisse’s time, the sheet and clewline each required a block at the clew, but the tack did not. This area is difficult to interpret in model photographs, so I used the simple arrangement shown by Lees4 because it seemed sensible and was not contradicted in photos of contemporary models. The clewline block’s strop passes through the eye of the sheet block’s strop, which, in turn, is kept from sliding off by the large stopper knot in the tack (Figure 351). The stopper knot at the end of the tack is appropriately called a “tack knot.” It is a doubled wall and crown knot (Ashley, knot 846) (Figure 352). On the model I used tack knots as stoppers on all the brace pendants, the main and fore topsail sheets, and elsewhere. Each tack knot took about fifteen minutes to make. Tacks were heavy lines that were put under enormous strain. Main tacks lead through the fancy fairleads on the bulwarks and belay on staghorns. Fore tacks pass through simple eyes in the cutwater below the bobstay. Most guides

A D B C

Figure 351, above. The port clewline blocks, A, sheet block, B, and large stopper knot in the tack, C. Notice the leechline cheek block, D. Figure 352, below. A tack knot as shown by Ashley, knot 846. (From Clifford Ashley, The Ashley Book of Knots (Doubleday, a Division of Random House, 1944))

180 É RUNNING RIGGING indicate the fore tacks belay on the forecastle rail’s staghorn, but this prevented a fair lead for the catstoppers, so I belayed the fore tacks on the upright legs of the knees supporting the rail. Nearly all contemporary models show the standing ends of main and fore sheets secured to eyebolts or ringbolts in the wale at the height of the channels. Many old holes may have held these fittings on Valkenisse, but I found none that were port-starboard symmetrical, so I made new holes for new ringbolts. Sheets lead inboard through bulwark fairleads and belay on maindeck staghorns. The fore sheet fairleads are abaft the No. 6 gunports and include two bulwark holes that mimic a full sheave. The main fairleads are abaft the No. 11 gunports and distinctly enter the hull from aft to forward, indicating there was a turning block abaft the hole.

A Figure 353, above. The fore topsail tye block, A, and the reef tackle and sheet-lift pendants, B.

Main and Fore Topsail and Topgallant Yards The main and fore topsail tyes reeve like those for the lower yards, but instead of passing over topmast ezelshoofds, they run over large diameter sheaves built

Figure 354. Main and fore topsail yard lifts, topgallant sheets and clewlines, and topsail reef tackles were all rigged in the space between the topsail and topgallant yards. In all cases the sheets led up to a turning block under the topmast crosstrees. Sheets, A, rigged this way could also serve as topsail yard lifts. Topsail reefing tackles look like modern lifts, but pass through sheaves in the topsail yardarms, B, to rig to the topsail reef bands. This was clear on Padmos/Blydorp, Bleiswijk, d' Gerechtigheid, and de Barbersteyn. The two blocks at the end of of Oostrust's topsail yard were nearly side by side, but I could not make this clear in the schematic. It is possible Oostrust and Jonge Jacob had separate lifts and sheets; Jonge Jacob had no reef tackles. On Bleiswijk

and d' Gerechtigheid, discrete lifts and sheets led through double blocks at the yardarms and on pendants from the masthead; these models also had reef tackles. De Barbersteyn had combined lifts and sheets; the lead block under the crosstrees was a double, but one sheave was empty; and she had a separate reef tackle. The Maritiem Museum Rotterdam model is the only one with a traditional lift block like those used on lower yards, but I could not tell if she had a reef tackle. Padmos/Blydorp and d' Gerechtigheid had small fairleads or trucks seized to the topmast shrouds. At lower right is the arrangement of rigging used on Valkenisse with line and block sizes in millimeters.

RUNNING RIGGING É 181

Figure 355, left. The lower block of the topgallant halyard, arrow, is seized to a topmast trestletree. Note the topsail tyes in their sheaves. Figure 356, right. Main and fore topgallant yards and gear including parrels, A; clewlines, B; lifts, C; tyes, D; halyards, E; lift blocks and pendants, F; brace pendants and blocks, G; sheets, H; and miscellaneous blocks.

A H

C D

F E G

into the topmast hounds on either side, under the trestletrees (Figures 266, page 135, and 355). The upper blocks of the halyards are unique to this use; they have three sheaves on two parallel axes (Figures 284, page 148, and 353). Anderson and others agree that the halyards rig entirely in the tops, but the hauling ends run to the deck. Anderson says they should belay “to the knight or to the rail on one side.”5 Because of their position in the aft part of the tops, they must go down abaft the lower masts. On Valkenisse, Collins provided no knights for these lines. However, there are bitts abaft the main, so I led the main topsail halyard there. The fore bitts are ahead of the mast, so I used Anderson’s other option, the forecastle rail. By Valkenisse’s day topsail yard lifts had not yet evolved as discrete lines. Rather than having their standing ends fast at the topsail yardarm stops, they continued through the topgallantsail’s sheet block and became those sheets (Figure 354). In this matter Anderson’s text was key to helping me understand confusing evidence on contemporary models.6 Roughly speaking, by the end of the sprit topmast period, rigs had modernized to have separate topsail lifts and topgallant sheets. The later configuration can be found on only one model with a sprit topmast, Bleiswijk. I used the earlier configuration as represented in models with sprit topmasts including Oostrust and Padmos/Blydorp. The topsail lift and the topsail reef tackles reeve through blocks in pendants secured above the stack of rigging at the topmast heads (Figure 353). Hauling on these lines from below would have the same problems with inefficiency as the lower yard lifts. The main and fore topgallant yards are lightly rigged. They have single-part tyes and the lower blocks of their halyards are secured to the aft end of a topmast trestletree (Figure 355). There are no special blocks. The parrels are made entirely of line and have no ribs or trucks. Other gear includes lifts, braces, clewlines, and sheets (Figure 356).

The Mizzen Yards on the mizzenmast are in a world of their own. The mizzen sail is triangular instead of rectangular, and its yard sets in a raked fore-and-aft position under the mizzentop. The yard is held aloft with jeers instead of with a tye and halyard.

182 É RUNNING RIGGING Jeers comprise a heavy tackle on a long pendant slung around the masthead; only the running end leads to the deck. Mizzen yards on all the contemporary models were rigged with jeers abaft the mast. The only standard style triple block on Valkenisse is the upper mizzen jeers block. An asymmetrical parrel with two rows of trucks secures the yard to the mast (Figure 357). There was no overwhelming consensus among contemporary models about whether the mizzen yard was set to port or starboard of the mizzenmast, but the starboard side seemed to be favored.

Figure 357. The fore-and-aft mizzen yard is held up with jeers and to the mast with the lower parrel. The upper parrel is for the crossjack yard. The block, arrow, is for the topsail halyard. Notice the single mizzen catharpin.

The mizzen yard is peaked up with a single lift. On no two contemporary models was the lift attached to the yard in the same way, but all the ways involved a system of spans and bridles (Figure 358). Counteracting the lift, a simple vang led to the centerline at the stern. The yard’s lower end is controlled with lines called “bowlines,” although Anderson noted that they “had nothing to do with the bowlines of a square sail but were in reality more nearly equivalent to braces.”7 The standing blocks for these tackles were secured to the after-most main shrouds (Figure 350, page 178). The lower sheet block is seized to an eyebolt in the ensign staff knee, and the upper one, which would attach to the sail’s clew, is secured to the yard below the jeers. When I was in the Netherlands the first time, Hoving said that the mizzen yard should be rigged parallel to the mizzen stay, and I have made it so. Above the mizzen yard, but still under the top, is the crossjack yard. Most yards have sails hanging from them and sails sheeting to them, and their sizes take this double duty into account. But the crossjack only serves to spread the clews of the mizzen topsail, so it is lighter in proportion to other yards. It hangs

Figure 359, above. The mizzen yard lift and vang on Valkenisse with line and block sizes in millimeters. Figure 360, below. The peak of Valkenisse’s mizzen yard.

Figure 358, above. The mizzen yard lifts and vangs displayed roughly chronologically show a general trend toward simplicity for the former and complexity for the latter. Lifts on Oostrust and Jonge Jacob have euphroes with a center line and seven and five bridles respectively. The rig on Padmos/Blydorp seems questionably operable, especially the single-part vang rigged to the ensign staff. Jonge Jacob's single vang leads to the port quarter. Den Ary's pair of vangs leads to each quarter. Bleiswijk has no vangs, the Zuiderzeemuseum model, d' Gerechtigheid, and de Barbersteyn each have a pair leading to the quarters. The Zuiderzeemuseum model's bridle system uses two two-hole euphroes and a "leg and fall" block.

RUNNING RIGGING É 183

Figure 361, left. The crossjack yard is held up with a sling, arrow, that passes through a block on the yard and over the eyes of the rigging at the masthead. Figure 362, right. Mizzen braces leading to blocks seized on opposite-side main shrouds. The middle block is for the mizzen topsail bowline. The heavy fiddle block and single block in the background are upper blocks for side tackles.

from a fixed sling and cannot be raised or lowered (Figure 361). Its rigging is similar to the other lower yards, but is lighter, like that for the main and fore topsail yards. The mizzen topsail yard, in turn, is similar to the main and fore topgallants. It was standard on contemporary models that the crossjack and mizzen topsail braces led down to the deck from blocks seized to the aftermost main shroud. However, because they must work within the spread of the main backstays, the braces sometimes crossed to opposite-side shrouds (Figure 362). Further, on some models, the braces were hitched to the yards about an eighth of their lengths in from the yardarms. I took all the braces across to the opposite sides. I hitched the crossjack braces to the yard a distance in from the yardarm stops; the topsail yard braces hitched at the stops.

Bowlines Bowlines trimmed the weather edges of square sails forward to improve windward sailing. They were fitted to all square sails except those on the bowsprit because there was no where farther forward to lead them to (Figure 363). A bowline comprised a bridle system that distributed effort along a sail’s leech, and a line that lead forward and down to the deck. In most cases, bridles employed small standard blocks, but on a couple of models, Bataviase Eeuw and the unidentified model at the Zuiderzeemuseum, thimbles were used. Larger sails had more bridles in their bowlines than smaller sails. Most bowline leads were easy to trace in photographs and were arranged consistently. The exceptions were the main course bowlines. On most contemporary models, they lead over the forecastle toward the lower portion of the foremast, but then disappear into the welter of rigging there. Because of the main bowlines’ unique genesis, there was only one block for the two bowlines. Anderson and Lees explain that by Valkenisse’s era, this was a snatch block on a pendant hitched to the main stay collar or the foremast, just off the deck (Figure 364).8 Once I knew this, I could decipher the photographs more easily. Yes, there are probably bowline leads or turning blocks there; yes, the bowlines then pass aft, and are certainly belayed

184 É RUNNING RIGGING

Figure 363. Bowlines on Valkenisse. All blocks are singles, except for the mainsail lead, which turns in a snatch block (see Figure 364) on the main stay collar, and the bowsprit lead block for the fore topgallant bowlines, which is a double as on Oostrust, Jonge Jacob, and the Zuiderzeemuseum model. Only relevant standing rigging is shown. Block and line sizes for Valkenisse are shown in millimeters. All bridles are 0.9-millimeter line with 7-millimeter blocks, as shown for the mainsail.

Figure 364. The main bowline snatch block, A, is on a pendant hitched to the mainstay collar. Each parrel fall, B, belays on a horizontal pin in the double-clamp.

on the belfry rail. I reconstructed this arrangement piecemeal from photos of several models. The turning point was a snatch block so the lines could be switched easily every time the ship changed tack. Snatch blocks are inherently weak, so must be made larger than a standard block for given line size. Snatch block drawings can be found in Anderson, Steel, Dik, Petrejus, and The HOLLANDIA Compendium. The latter shows an iron-bound block with a hasp, a fitting too modern for use on Valkenisse. Steel’s seems frail. I based mine on Dik. Figure 365. A timber hitch as shown by Ashley, No. 1,665. (From Clifford Ashley, The Ashley Book of Knots (Doubleday, a Division of Random House,1944))

Although bowlines connect directly to sails and are considered part of the sail gear, they are frequently found on early models without sails. In these cases, legs of bowline bridles were secured to the yards with timber hitches (Ashley, knot 1,665) (Figure 365). Bowlines add considerable complexity to a model’s appearance. On Valkenisse, they were responsible for nearly 15 percent of all the blocks.

Running Rigging on the Bowsprit The sprityard, which is slightly larger than the main topsail yard, crosses the bowsprit just forward of the bobstay. There is a so-called halyard beneath the bowsprit (Figure 366), but, instead of a parrel, the yard has a non-adjustable truss. It is further secured with shroud-like “fixed lifts” that set up with deadeyes and lanyards and were characterist of the VOC. On many contemporary models, the lift pendants’ inboard ends were connected directly to eyebolts in the bowsprit. However, on Valkenisse, two wooden cleats were nailed to the bowsprit in about the right location, so I used them as stops for pendants that were seized around

RUNNING RIGGING É 185 the bowsprit. Fixed lifts certainly limited the yard’s rotation under the bowsprit, so I wonder how the yard was braced to set the spritsail. Regardless, it was equipped with clewlines and sheets. Contemporary sources show spritsail sheets in two arrangements. In the earlier way (Figures 367 and 391, page 192), the line’s standing end was fast near the after end of the headrails. It led forward to a sheet block at the clew, but there was no pendant on the block. The sheet then led aft, through a fairlead on a short pendant at the upper deadeye for the No. 3 fore lower shroud, then passed through the bulwark abaft the fore rigging. In the second and later method, everything is forward of the fore shrouds and there may or may not have been a pendant on the sheet block at the clew. Following Hoving’s advice to avoid making things too modern,9 I used the earlier method, although it required drilling new fairlead holes in the bulwarks between the No. 4 maindeck gunports and the main tack fairleads. I used a magnet to avoid existing ferrous hull fasteners. Fortunately, the hole locations pierced the heads of frames so the lines could reeve through the holes easily and not get lost in the void between the planking and the ceiling.

E A B C D Figure 366, above. The sprit halyard, A, is a tackle leading inboard. The fixed lifts, B, set up with deadeyes and lanyards. Notice the sprit yard footropes, C, the upper end of the bobstay, D, and the lower ends of the sprit topmast futtock shrouds, E. Figure 367, below. The spritsail sheet arrangement on Oostrust and Jonge Jacob. The standing end is at the top of the headrails. The sheet leads aft from the sail's clew block to a fairlead on the No. 3 fore shroud, then inboard through the bulwark abaft the backstays. I used this is the arrangement on Valkenisse; her line and block sizes are shown in millimeters.

Two pairs of lines did the jobs of braces for the sprit yard although I can’t imagine why they were both considered necessary. The first comprised the regular braces and used blocks on pendants at the yardarms. The others were the garnets and rigged to the yard about midway between the slings and the stops. Evidently the braces and garnets were at one time completely separate lines, then they combined to become a single line, and then the garnets were abandoned. These lines were arranged differently on every contemporary source (Figure 368). The running ends sometimes led down to the bowsprit and then inboard and sometimes led up, under the foretop, and then down. On the model of Oostrust, they took the latter route so, Figure 368, below. Archaic spritsail garnet-brace combinations on four models. All lines lead up, to the underside of the foretop, but the lead block was only visible on Oostrust. Valkenisse’s line and block sizes are shown on Oostrust’s sketch in millimeters.

Figure 369, right. Valkenisse's sprit topsail rigging with line and block sizes in millimeters. The fixed lift sets up to deadeyes; the running lift combines with the sprit topsail sheet and leads through the gammoning rack. Braces and garnets are omitted.

186 É RUNNING RIGGING

Figure 370, right. The after side of the sprit topmast. The block, A, at the masthead leads the fore topgallant stay to its tackle, B, just to starboard of the centerline abaft the topmast standard knee on the bowsprit. The other vertical tackle, C, tensions the sprit topmast backstay system, D. The small blocks, E, seized to the No. 3 sprit topmast shrouds are for the fore topgallant bowlines; they lead through a double block abaft the false stay on the bowsprit. Figure 371, far right. The sprit topmast yard lifts lead through blocks, A, on short pendants at the trestletrees and belay around the strops of lower deadeyes, B. Note the different angles of the topmast shroud futtocks, C. The two ezelshoofds were made by Collins and do not have metal gates, although they should.

A D A

E C

B B C C

Figure 372. The fore topmast’s false stay, A, sets up to the bowsprit with deadeyes and a lanyard; the lower block of the staysail halyard, B, is secure to the lower deadeye. Notice lower ends of the forestay and fore preventer and their large stay blocks; the stopper knot, C, in the pendant for the starboard sprit topsail yard brace; the truss supporting the spritsail yard, D; and all legs of the sprit yard’s port garnet, E. A wooden toggle, F, connects the sprit topsail clewline and sheet.

A E B

F D

having found eyebolts appropriately installed in the underside of the forward crosstree in Valkenisse’s foretop, I chose Oostrust’s method for rigging Valkenisse’s garnets (Figures 368 and 372). Except for its precarious location, the rigging for the sprit topsail (Figures 370 and 371) is much like the main and fore topgallants. Most contemporary models, except the one at the Zuiderzeemuseum, have single-part sprit topsail clewlines that lead inboard, but the routes vary. The majority lead from the block on the yard to the top, through the lubber hole, then turn aft; in no example does it appear the turn is made with a block. The lines then go inboard along the bowsprit.

Staysails Arrangements on early eighteenth-century VOC retourschepen varied, but one

RUNNING RIGGING É 187 could expect to find staysails under the fore topmast stay, the mainstay, the main topmast stay, and the mizzenstay. Staysails attached to the stays with hanks or lacings and were hoisted with halyards. However, all the stays just mentioned, except the mizzen, were crowded with blocks and standing ends of other rigging. How could the staysails possibly work? Actually, staysails were not always set directly on their name stays. Beneath each, where necessary, a so-called false stay 10 was stretched just for setting the staysails unimpeded by all the gear on actual stays. A false stay had an eye splice in its upper end that was seized to its name stay. The false stay was tensioned with deadeyes and lanyards at its lower end (Figures 323, page 169, and 372, A). Each stay had a halyard, but on models without sails, the halyards are not always shown. Anderson, Dik, and others leave staysails until the last step in instructions for rigging, and I mistakenly followed their example. Because false stays have interior locations and become part of the stays with which they are associated, it would have been far easier to install them with the standing rigging; on the Table 21. Running Rigging Line Sizes. All lines are linen. Shaded boxes are nominally brown lines, like running rigging; all others are nominally black.

Lines

Nominal Nominal Diameter Diameter Color Lay on on Ship, on Model, on Model Voeten Millimeters Model

Manufacturer Brand

Number

Single Twist Block Size, Formula Millimeters

Main & Fore Topsail Yard Parrals; Main & Fore Topsail Clewlines; Mizzen Topsail Braces; Main & Fore Topgallant Bowlines; Mizzen Topsail Bowlines; all Bowline Bridles

0.9

.093

Brown

Right

Unidentified

No. 2

1x3

Main & Fore Parral Falls; Fore Yard Lifts; Main & Fore Topsail Yard Lifts; Main & Fore Topgallant Sheets; Main & Fore Topsail & Topgallant Braces; Mizzen & Crossjack Braces; Sprit Yard Garnets; Main & Fore Lower and Topsail Bowlines

1.0

.104

Brown

Right

Barbour

1x3

Main Yard Lifts; Main & Fore Clewlines; Main & Fore Topsail Yard Halyard Falls

1.24

.124

Brown

Right

Ashaway

870

1x3

Footropes

1.28

Black

Left

Ashaway

871

1x3

Fore Yard Lift Pendants; Main & Fore Topsail Yard Lift Pendants; Main & Fore Topsail Yard Brace Pendants; Main & Fore Topsail Reef Pendants

1.3

Black

Left

Barbour

1x3

Main & Fore Braces; Fore Yard Parral; Sprit Sail Sheets

1.3

Brown

Left

Barbour

1x3

Main Yard Lift Pendants; Main & Fore Brace Pendants

1.5

.155

Black

Left

Fawcett

2x3

Main Yard Parral; Main & Fore Topsail Sheets; Fore Halyard Fall; Fore Topsail Halyard

1.5

.155

Brown

Left

Fawcett

2x3

Main Halyard Fall; Main Topsail Halyard

1.6

.166

Brown

Right

Barbour

1x3

Main & Fore Sheets

1.95

Brown

Right

Ashaway

870

2x3

Main & Fore Yard Halyards; Main & Fore Tacks

2.5

Brown

Left

Barbour

2x3

.26

188 É RUNNING RIGGING centerline and close to the stays, they would have been out of the way. The only advantage I found to rigging staysail gear later was that I used up several spare linen grommets.

Studdingsails About studdingsails, Anderson wrote there is little to be known about fitting them on vessels before the turn to the nineteenth century.11 So, for Valkenisse’s time, much must be left to speculation though it is clear from contemporary models that studdingsails were in common use, at least on retourschepen. As for representing studdingsail rigging on Valkenisse, a model without sails, the only requirement was for halyard blocks beneath the main and fore topsail yards and sheet blocks on the tops of the studdingsail booms (Figure 348, D, page 178).

Flagpoles Five flagpoles are stepped on Valkenisse. They surmount the main and fore topgallant masts, the mizzen and sprit topmasts, and the taffrail. They are equipped with trucks pierced for flag halyards. Although there are exceptions, contemporary models without sails generally do not sport flags. Where halyards are visible in photographs, it is either impossible to tell where the halyards lead, or it is clear that they secure at the mast cap nearest the truck (Figure 339, page 174). Some halyards belay on the pole itself just above the cap, others to the cap’s metal gate, and still others to a lift eyebolt. If the halyard actually belayed this far aloft aboard ship, it meant men had to carry a flag (which could be huge and heavy) to the topgallant crosstrees, despite the lack of topgallant ratlines, and teeter there while bending the flag and hoisting it. How much more sense it made later on to run the halyards to the deck. É

Notes 1

John Harland, Seamanship in the Age of Sail (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1984), p. 29; and R.C. Anderson, The Rigging of Ships In the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (Centreville, Maryland: Cornell Maritime Press, 1982), p. 142.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 142.

G.C.E. Crone, “Answers, Model of the E.I. Co.’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX (1923), p. 156.

James Lees, The Masting and Rigging of English Ships of War 1625-1860 (London: Conway Maritime Press, 1984), p. 76.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 186.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 187.

The Rigging of Ships, p. 237.

The Rigging of Ships, pp. 165-168; and Lees, Masting and Rigging, p. 80.

Albert Hoving, e-mail to author, 12 May 2003.

10 The Rigging of Ships, p. 254. 11 The Rigging of Ships, p. 252, et. seq.

Part 13 FINAL STEPS Sails and Flags Some of the cloth fragments found in Valkenisse’s hold during cleaning were likely remnants of sails and flags. The former group comprised only a few small specimens. They appeared to be finely woven cotton or linen. Two pieces contained rows of black hand-stitched thread in false seams. This is also a standard modelbuilding convention to represent sail panels. More interestingly, a tiny, 1-millimeter-diameter eyelet was sewn into one cloth piece at its edge, like a grommet, where one might expect to attach a leechline or bowline to a sail. When I wrote Ab Hoving about the cloth fragments, he asked if I planned to include sails on the model. I said that I did not. He responded that all the early Dutch models with which he was familiar have or had sails. He was surprised that making sails was not part of the job of reconditioning Valkenisse although he understood that I did not want to make them.1 There were more and larger pieces of fabric in the second group. These were finely woven, but they were fragile and shredding like silk flags on other old models with which I have been familiar. Hoping the fragments came from the same flag and not wanting to handle them, I conducted an experiment. The idea was to digitally piece together the fragments like a jigsaw puzzle. I inserted the fabric in flat plastic sleeves, placed the sleeves on the scanner, scanned them, and opened the images in Photoshop. I could read the cloth’s fine weave, but colors did not scan well. Nonetheless, by manipulating the software’s color balance controls, I learned that some segments of the stitched up fragment that I thought were white were actually faded red (Figure 373). There were also some indigo pieces. One seam was diagonal and there was a narrow band of cloth edging. All stitching in this group actually held pieces of cloth together; there were no false seams. In the end, there were too few pieces to do any kind of reconstruction. If the pieces were once a flag, the colors and arrangement of panels, even in these small remains, indicate it was a British ensign or the canton from one (Figure 374).

Anchors and Anchor Buoys The anchors that came in the bundle with the model seemed to be underweight and to have exaggerated crowns. However, I learned anchors like this were at home on VOC models. In my proposal, I stated that the bundle held four anchors, but the model arrived in Newburyport with only three. Gerry Ward said that although it was not a part of the proposal, I should replace the missing anchor. The metal parts of the three anchors were the same, but the wooden stocks differed. There were two small ones and a large one. I thought I would make the new

Figure 373, above. A tracing shown about actual size of the principal cloth that appeared to be a fragment of a flag. The blue portions were nearly black; the red portion appeared white until I adjusted a scan of the fragments in Photoshop. Figure 374, below. When superimposing the stitched fragment so its reddish panel is about the same width as the red horizontal band on the British ensign or canton drawn in proper proportion, A, the pointed blue part does not fit. But when the ensign is doubled in length, the fragment’s panels line up almost perfectly, B.

A B

190 É FINAL STEPS anchor as an average of measurements taken from the three present ones, but this was excessive even for me. I chose the one with the larger stock for my master and made a plan (Figure 375) by tracing the crown on oaktag, scanning the tracing to the computer, and, in Photoshop, copying the better half of the drawing and pasting it over the poor half so I had a symmetrical template. I fashioned the shank from 7-millimeter-square brass bar (Figure 376). Then I cut the long taper on the Preac table saw by temporarily glueing the brass to a tapered wooden jig. I cut the taper in one side, popped the brass off the jig, glued the adjacent face to the wood, and cut the other taper. I printed the crown template on paper, rubber cemented it to 4.75-millimeter-thick brass, and cut the crown out with a jeweler’s saw (Figure 377). I pegged the shank to the crown with a 1.6-millimeter brass rod. The flukes were sawn from 0.8-millimeter brass sheet. All joints were silver soldered (Figure 378). Figure 375. The anchor stock and crown as traced from an original that came with Valkenisse.

The massive stocks were made in two halves, but there was no gap between them. I rabbeted the two pearwood stock blanks to fit around the upper, squared end of the shank and glued them together around the shank for perfect registration (Figure 379). Side and top view patterns were needed and I made them as I had the one for the crown. I shaped the stock to the side pattern first, then the top (Figure 380). Then I drilled snug holes for the 1.7-millimeter maple pegs that joined the stock halves, tapped the pegs home, and cut them off. I left them slightly proud so they presented the same visual texture I saw on the other anchors. Chamfering the edges was last (Figure 381). I made the stock’s four 3.33-millimeter-wide bands out of copper because it was easier than brass to form around the stock’s tapers and chamfers (Figure 382). Dried glue on an early anchor stock indicated a repair had been made to

Figure 376. Flats milled in the shank will provide lands to keep the stock from twisting.

Figure 377. The pattern is still glued to the crown after sawing it to shape from 4.7-millimeter brass.

Figure 380. A pattern glued for cutting the stock profile is glued in place.

Figure 378. The crown, flukes, and shank are silver soldered together. The crown and shank are pinned.

Figure 381. The stock shaped and chamfered. Dots on the side are pegs.

Figure 379. Clamping the halves of the stock around the shank to get perfect registration.

Figure 382. Copper bands have been pinned in place on the stock.

FINAL STEPS É 191 a band that became lost; I replaced it (Figure 383). The old anchor rings were about 23 millimeters in diameter, outside, and were made from 2.7-millimeter stock. I made the new ring from slightly smaller 2.4-millimeter rod. The ring was formed around a jeweler’s finger ring mandrel (it was a size 75/ 8). Incidentally, the new ring matched an earlier specimen that may have dated from the Collins era.

Figure 383, above. A new outer band was required on one of the early anchors. I made a copper replacement. Figure 384, right. The new anchor is assembled and ready for finishing and rope work. The bands are copper, but other metal work is brass. The stock is Swiss pearwood. Stock pegs are maple.

The finish on the early anchors was marred, dented, and chipped. The worn surfaces added lots of atmosphere, but there was no way I could match the visual texture on the new anchor. Thus, I cleaned the old anchors thoroughly and painted them all. Anchor buoys were used to mark the locations of anchors when they were on the sea floor. A buoy was attached to the anchor with a long line that could

Figure 385. The surviving anchor buoy with its deteriorated rope harness.

Figure 386. The replacement buoy was made of red cedar so its grain could be exploited.

Figure 387. The old buoy, left, and new, right. There are ten splices in the harness.

be used to help free a fouled anchor because it was attached to the crown instead of the ring. The one buoy that came in the bundle was about 50 millimeters long and 24 millimeters in diameter (Figure 385). It was made of wood and its annular rings were quite pronounced, even through old paint. I made a duplicate buoy out of red cedar, a wood which has soft fibers between harder rings (Figure 386). When the surface is rubbed with steel wool, it cuts away the softer fibers and leaves the harder rings proud (Figure 387). The rope harnesses are kept in place with little grooved nubs at each end of the buoy. The harnesses for each buoy required ten eye splices (Figure 387); they were the most fun to make of all the rope work on the model. The anchor rings were wrapped with multistrand puddening (Ashley, knot 3,500), but I did not snake the stoppings (Figure 389). Anchor cables for the model were the largest lines I spun on the ropewalk. They were the only lines that required three spinning stages. (The lower shrouds and stays required two.) Most sources on seamanship indicate that a hawser was secured to an anchor ring with an inside clinch (Ashley, knot 1,845)(Figure 390).

Figure 388. Half of the harness after removing it from the old buoy.

Figure 389. Installing puddening as shown by Ashley, knot 3,500. (From Clifford Ashley, The Ashley Book of Knots (Doubleday, a Division of Random House,1944))

192 É FINAL STEPS Figure 391, below. Anchors are lashed, A, to three of the four ringbolts in the side above the main rail (see Folding Plate 1). The anchor buoy hangs from the No. 1 shroud by a lanyard, B. Notice the forward anchor’s flukes ride appropriately on the billboards, C. The hawser, D, is secured to the anchor ring with an inside clinch. The ring is, in turn, suspended by the catstopper, E, from the cathead, F. Notice the spritsail sheet’s standing end in the headrail cap, G, and in its fairlead, H, at the No. 3 shroud.

Figure 390, left. A hawser secured to an anchor ring with an inside clinch as shown by Ashley, knot 1,845. (From Clifford Ashley, The Ashley Book of Knots (Doubleday, a Division of Random House,1944))

E A C D

On the model’s starboard side were four ringbolts in the planking above the main rail, under the forecastle rail, and inboard of the fore rigging (Figures 391, 392, and Folding Plate 1). These were almost certainly for securing anchors. Clogged holes indicated there had been similar ringbolts to port, so I made and installed new ones there with 1.24-millimeter brass wire eyes and 0.97-millimeter copper wire rings. Anchors were displayed in several ways on the VOC models. Most had two on each side and a couple had anchors of distinctly different sizes. On some, the forward anchors hung vertically from the catheads. I like this effect, but anchors displayed this way can swing and scrape a model’s topsides. On most models, all the anchors were stowed horizontally. If the ring of the forward one was supported by the catstopper, the after one was farther forward on the fore channel, but if both were in the channels, the after one had to be even farther aft. I shipped the forward pair of anchors with their rings in the catstoppers and the crowns hanging from the first of the

B D

Figure 392. Details of the rope work on the anchor buoy can be seen including the splices in the harness, A, and the method of attaching the buoy line to the lower eye. The buoy line is faked against and lashed to the shank of the forward anchor, B, and the anchor hangs by a lashing from the forward ringbolt, C, behind the buoy, in the side above the main rail. Stops, D, can just be made out on the anchor ring puddening. (Photograph by Peter Hickey)

FINAL STEPS É 193

Figure 393. Work on the model of Valkenisse is complete. The model rests on its original Dutch cradles.

four ringbolts (Figure 391). The after anchors are on the channels and hang from the second and fourth ringbolts. The anchors with the slightly larger stocks are forward, those with the smaller stocks are aft. The buoys hang from the forward fore shroud and their long lines are faked against and seized to the forward anchor’s shank near the crown (Figure 392). The new buoy is on the starboard side, the new anchor is to port.

Departure In October 2003, the day finally arrived when Valkenisse was to leave my studio. I knew the completely rigged model would not be able to leave because the studio doorway was a little too narrow and a little too short. The model would have to be carried just off the floor, but I did not want movers to have to bend over, into the spars and rigging. To avoid this, I made a shallow carrying tray from a light hollow-core door. Straps were attached at the ends. A person lifted each end of the tray with the straps. This way, the model could be carried safely, low to the ground, and with the carriers standing upright. I took the door off its hinges to widen the doorway. I left the main studdingsail booms off the main yard, so the overall length of the yard would be a few centimeters shorter. Even thus, the yard was wider than the doorway, and we had

194 É FINAL STEPS to joggle the yard through the opening. Even with the model only an inch or two off the floor, the model was still too tall with the main and fore poles, so I left them unstepped. When the model was outside (Figure 394), I stepped the poles. I placed their brass gates in position and in-painted them; that is why the example in Figure 261, page 131, is unpainted. I also lashed the inner ends of the main studdingsail booms to the main yard. This completed my work on the model. (I thought about leaving the poles unstepped so the model could be moved more easily within the museum. However, I felt it was more important to deliver Valkenisse as finished and ready for display as possible. The poles can always be removed, if necessary.) When the last bits were complete, custody for Valkenisse was transferred to a fine arts moving company. The crew brought a huge, custom-built crate framed in wood and paneled with light-weight, translucent, corrugated plastic. There was a clear window so the contents could be identified. The men secured the model to the tray and installed it in the crate. Places were made in the crate for the original Dutch cradles, and all the old spars, rigging, blocks, deadeyes, bits and pieces retrieved from the hull, and other materials that had come with the model or in the bundle. The closed crate was dollied to the air-cushioned truck and loaded aboard (Figure 395). It just fit.

Closing Thoughts

Figure 394, top. The main and fore poles have been stepped, their gates in-painted, and the main studdingsail booms are being lashed in place to finish my work on the model. The model rests on the work base with foam cushioning on the bilge wedges. The tray will be the model’s base in the crate. The original Dutch cradles were packed separately. (Photograph by Peter Hickey) Figure 395, bottom. The crate and model going aboard the truck. It was fortunate the model’s rig was no taller.

Initially, the goal of the Valkenisse project was to rig the model. Jonathan Fairbanks, Gerry Ward, and I assumed the model’s hull was complete, or at least complete enough, and that I could repair and reinstall the spars and rigging that were wrapped in the bundle found in storage at the Museum of Fine Arts. Examination revealed, though, that there were other problems with details on the hull. Some were not quite right, and many were missing. After comparing Valkenisse with other contemporary VOC models, we decided there was enough information at hand to rectify the problems we had isolated. We elected to expand the project’s scope to address these before advancing to the rerigging task. Then we realized many of the spars and associated rigging in the bundle were not appropriate for the model. The project grew again to include building most of the spars and making all new rigging from scratch. Certainly it would have been more convenient to assess the entire condition of the model at the outset. At that time, however, none of us had the perspective to identify all the issues that confronted us. We learned as we went. I realized early in the process that my job was not to make the model of Valkenisse look more like the vessel it was representing. This is a trap that ensnares many ship modelers who are working on existing models. In the interests of conservation, I endeavored to make Valkenisse more like a model of a vessel, and this was entirely different. Granted, some of my effort was guided by old shipbuilding manuals, but other surviving VOC models were the final arbiters in the decision-

FINAL STEPS É 195 making process. I let the models themselves tell me their story of ship modeling. I believe that, could Valkenisse now stand among her eighteenth-century relations in Europe, they would recognize her. I am asked frequently what advice I can offer for working with old ship models. Answers like “be careful” are too obvious. I advise people, instead, to not be afraid of models and to treat them with respect. But these are also pat answers. My best advice is to be open to what the model can teach. Many people are blessed to have been at some time in their lives the student of a great teacher. This is a difficult phenomenon to explain, but if you have it happen, you know it absolutely. A great teacher will help you step outside of yourself, outside of your fixed patterns of observation and thinking, to develop broader practices, possibilities, and goals. I am fortunate and honored to have found great teachers in a few wonderful ship models. One of these was Valkenisse. I continually asked Valkenisse how she was made and what she experienced during nearly three centuries. I asked on global and on micro levels. I was always curious about how her components were formed from available materials and by the hands of the artisans who spent time with her. I wanted to know about her calamities. Without inquiry, I do not learn much from the model before me on the bench. Not only did Valkenisse answer my specific questions, she shared her life story. She was a great teacher. She made it necessary for me to seek solutions beyond the constraints of the Anglo-centric maritime heritage I had absorbed during my upbringing in the northeastern United States. This was rich and deep, but Valkenisse taught me the British practice was far from being the only historically successful European maritime narrative. I discovered my previous experience would not solve the problem of successfully reconditioning a Dutch model of a Dutch vessel. This was the most important lesson. I also learned to see whole systems, such as woodworking, rigging, color, and combinations of them, as forms of texture that make a ship model aesthetically and culturally cohesive. One visitor to my studio when the Valkenisse project was in mid-stride asked why I was bothering with a “clunky” model that was not built to a high standard of craftsmanship. His implication was that Valkenisse was not worthy of attention because it was not built to the same aesthetic standard as the polished British dockyard models with which he was familiar. Although I had a feeling for the answer at the time, I found it hard to put into words. In the end, I realized the answer is that the Valkenisse model is important because it represents cultural and aesthetic differences on her own merit and as a member of an entire class of vessels. She presents an approach to ship and model building that is far less documented in maritime history than the British ships and models with which she is inevitably compared, especially in the United States. There are far fewer surviving contemporary models of major Dutch vessels than there are of British ones. This lack is especially true in the United States, where there are significant institutional and private collections of seventeenthand eighteenth-century models, but they are nearly all of British vessels. Valkenisse is the only early eighteenth-century model of a VOC ship known to exist in the

196 É FINAL STEPS Americas. Thus, this lone model faces the daunting task of speaking for the early maritime tradition of an entire nation. The day-to-day work on Valkenisse taught me about working with what I might call a “softer” hand. This involved developing a feel for treating less of the fabric of the model. Rather than doing everything possible to revert the entire model to its earlier, if not original, state, my goal evolved to be a quest to let the model evoke as much of its intrinsic Dutch character as possible without trying to completely reshape everything. In part, this meant learning to let earlier problems lie, even if they did not project perfection in modeling, as long as they were following the right cultural and aesthetic track or were telling the right story about the shipboard systems they portrayed. I profited from the years of delay in getting started. Had I plunged into threedimensional work when the model of Valkenisse arrived in my studio, I would likely have missed the experience of learning so much about both the earlier and modern Dutch ship modeling worlds. I certainly would not have taken the time to document the model in the drawings shown here as Plates 1 through 4. The drawing process, like cleaning a model, makes one really see every feature. Details come into sharp focus. Made before I started any three-dimensional work, the plates document the condition of the model when it came to me. I regret that I did not have time, when the model work was complete, to create another set of drawings. I rationalized that the model and this book illustrate what I did well enough. But another set of drawings could have shown how parts of the model had been effected by each hand, from that of the original modelwright to mine. If only there had been enough time. Everyone has to draw the line somewhere. In retrospect, did the Valkenisse project lead me along paths and toward destinations I never imagined? Did the journey present new questions, suggest new tasks, take me to new forks in the road that I could not take the time to pursue? Did I trip over rocks under which I could not peek? Did the project consume far more time than I anticipated? The answers are all yes. So, knowing that a commitment to a future, similar project would lead to other pitfalls and realms of uncertainty, would I embark on a similar journey? I would answer yes again, without hesitation, just as I answered Jonathan nearly twenty years ago. É

Note 1

Author, e-mails to Hoving, 29 and 30 September 1999; and Hoving, e-mails to author, 30 September and 1 October 1999.

Appendixes Appendix 1. Collins’s Letter to Coolidge. Transcribed from MFA Object File 32-183. Clarkson A. Collins 3rd Jr. 9 Diman Place Providence, Rhode Island Oct 29 1928 Dear Mr. Coolidge — At last I have brought myself to a point were I am willing to part with the Valkenisse and I am taking the matter up with you first both on account of our past relations and, too, because I know that all of your models will have a permanent museum home. As a reminder regarding the Valkenisse I enclose a picture of her stern. This was taken some years ago, however, and does not show her as she is now. I think that she is probably the most unique model in this country. In fact so far as I know there are only two other dockyard models of early Dutch East Indiamen in existence — both in museums in Holland. One of these represents the Padmos and Blydorp the other Dan Ary. Both of these are some what later than mine. The Padmos model is rather crude but Den Ary is the same t_pr [?] workmanship as Valkenisse. The Valkenisse dates from 1717. She was built at Mittleburg [sic] and bears the arms of that province as well as those of the Dutch East India Company. I know something of her history having corresponded for nearly ten years with a Mr. Crone of Rotterdam. I had owned her for a long time but did no repair work on her for some years — until I had full data regarding her type. She is very different from English or French vessels of the same period. As you may remember she is a large model — in the usual Dutch style. The hull is over four feet long. It is natural wood above the water line — a beautiful dark brown with age. She is finely ornamented, has the characteristic shade canopy of the period, is curved at the break of the quarter deck and has the turned pillars for the rail there. In fact she is so unusual and so striking that I kept her of all my models, with the exception of gifts and the like. The hull is in first class condition but she is not rigged. However, I have original masts, bowsprit, yards, anchors, etc. Also a full assortment of blocks — some original and others that I had copied from them. It is rather difficult to set a price for her. Under many conditions I would not sell her at any price. It seems to me, though, that as she is $3,500. is a fair figure. She [sic] She ought easily to be worth $4,500. to $5,000. when or if rigged. I have spent about $400. for blocks, metal work etc, so that she costs [sic] me close to $3,000. not including hundreds of hours of work on her. Every minute of them enjoyed, however. If you wanted to buy her as she is and then have me finish the rigging I should be glad to do so. This would take a long time, however. In any event all

200 É APPENDIXES the data on rigging which I have from Crone would go with her. There is nothing very unusual about it although some points vary from the English. Sincerely yours C.A. Collins Jr. É

APPENDIXES É 201

Appendix 2. Wiles’s Letter to Coolidge. Transcribed from MFA Object File 32-183. Irving R. Wiles 130 West 57th Street I am glad to have seen the “Mercury” catalogue — Fine things there! — Dear Coolidge, Yes, I am back again in the old studio and glad enough to be away from that So. east Wind that you like so much. How strong you are! Today I am reclining on my sofa, rather too weak to work and out of sorts with life in general. This latter state of mind may be the result of reading Douglas’ “South Wind” Why is it that nearly all modern works leave one unhappy? But of course one does have to read them and I seldom do, preferring biography or history. [?] two letters and the photographs have given me great pleasure and to cheer up I shall read the letters again and chat with you in reply. I will keep three of the Museum photos, returning the one of Royal G. because I have good pictures of her and you will of course have use for all of these photos that you may get. How fortunate you are to have that perfectly charming figure-head! I have never seen one to equal it. The small portion of Luzon that shows is exciting: she must be very smart. The cases and tables are perfect. This is of course the first I have seen of Spicer’s second model and she seems to be, as you said, much finer than the first one. She has too just the right amount of sail set to be interesting (in which I suspect the Col. had the benefit of your own artistic judgement). The little men are fascinating. Altogether she is a splendid monument to the maker. Collins’ Valkenisse I know quite well. I remember when he bought her, so excited that he could not leave her for a moment with the dealer, he squeezed her somehow into a taxi and stopping here ‘phoned up to me to go down to see her. He then taxied to the ferry and from there actually carried her to the train and to his home (he then lived in New Jersey) I have always considered this “Dutchman” one of the finest models of its kind and I know it is extremely rare. Note the square tuck stern below the carved work and the clapboarding of the sides above the mizzen chains so peculiar to dutch [sic] vessels and seen in Van de Veldes’ drawings. The quarter galleries are absolutely dutch as are many things about the bow. Not so far from the period of your frenchman and yet so different! I recall that the spars and rigging are full of character, heavy too, and that she carries the sprit topmast on her bowsprit. Why not engage Collins to rig her, or to oversee the rigging of her, if done by your man Hart? The price seems to me reasonable, certainly less than a dealer would demand and if you can get her for less of course you should do so. Don’t mention this to Collins for he is [so ?] anxious to have her coloring correct for the period but if the model were mine I would take off the white

202 É APPENDIXES on her bottom leaving the polished walnut, as I did in your frenchman. Don’t you think it would improve her appearance? I am quite sure she is built of walnut. I hope that at last your work is done and that you will now be able to breathe freely again. What an undertaking, as you have done it! But the result is superb I know. Cordially Irving Wiles November 4th 1928 P.S. I am mailing the photos in separate cover. É

APPENDIXES É 203

Appendix 3. Valkenisse Voyages Excerpted from Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries. See Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries, pp. X-XI, for key to the numbered columns. All voyages were sailed for the Zeeland Chamber.

Voyage Out/ Captain Number Return

Departure

Call at Cape

Arrival

On Board

III

4 2 0 0

9 11 0 1

152 115 1 5

Out

Herman Grindet

7 Nov 1717 Rammekens

24 Apr 1718 18 May 1718

28 Jul 1718 Batavia

seaf sold craft pass

117 131 1 6

2325.1

0 0

10 7 0 0

Herman Grindet

7 Dec 1718 Batavia

16 Feb 1719 10 Aug 1719 2 Apr 1719 Rammekens

100 20 10 2

Return

seaf sold craft pass

6433.1

Out

Hugo van der Stikke*

25 Dec 1719 5 May 1720 14 Aug 1720 Wielingen 8 Jun 1720 Batavia

seaf sold craft pass

186 121 7 0

2408.2

0 0

20 21 1 0

seaf sold craft imp pass

100 25 3 176 3

1 Dec 1720 Batavia

6500.2

Return Lukas Schrik

27 Feb 1721 22 Aug 1721 23 Apr 1721 Rammekens

Hendrik van der Grippe

16 Jan 1722 Rammekens

29 Apr 1722 28 May 1722

23 Jul 1722 Batavia

seaf sold craft pass

158 107 3 3

11 0 0

9 10 1 1

6564.3

Return

Hendrik van der Grippe

2 Dec 1722 16 Feb 1723 Batavia 25 Mar 1723

6 Jul 1723 Rammekens

Total

100

2562.4

Out

Abraham Bustijn

30 Nov 1723 20 Jul 1724 21 Oct 1724 Rammekens 20 Aug 1724 Batavia

seaf sold craft pass

194 98 4 1

25 0 0

23 19 1 0

6651.4

Return

Abraham Bustijn

20 Nov 1725 27 Jan 1727 Batavia 21 Mar 1726

6 Jul 1724 Rammekens

Total

2697.5

Out

Jan Bogaard

1 Jan 1727 Rammekens

23 Sep 1727 22 Jan 1728 20 Oct 1727 Ceylon

Total

250

37 20 6 17 3

14 Jan 1729 26 Jun 1729 4 Feb 1729 Rammekens

seaf sold craft imp pass seaf sold craft pass

181 101 5 1

2 May 1730 3 Sep 1730 17 Feb 1731 Rammekens 27 Sep 1730 Batavia

24 10 0 0

Return Gerrit Stokke

2807.6

Out

6832.6

Adriaan van Return der Graaf

5 Dec 1731 Ceylon

15 Jul 1732 Rammekens

Total

143

2912.7

Out

17 Apr 1733 31 Oct 1733 21 Jan 1734 Rammekens 8 Nov 1733 Batavia

seaf sold craft pass

178 115 91 21 0 0

39 12 5 0

Elias Moenix

6 4 0 1

4 11 0 0

158 93 6 1

The master died: he was succeed by Matthijs Ruger.

1 6 0 0

8 6 0 0

According to K.A. 4390A Hugo ver der Slikke was master. Van der Slikke had died during an outward voyage in 1720 (See 2408). According to Mattheus the master was Hendrik van der Grippe.

142 97 2 2

495,165 15 10 0 0

15 16 0 0

171 73 3 1

From 18 Jan - 8 Mar 1724 at Edinburgh; from 14 Mar - 02 Apr 1724 back at Vlissingen. 472,421

6742.5

2 Mar 1732 2 Apr 1732

From 11 Nov - 1 Jan 1718 at Portsmouth and Torbay.

519,052

Out

Dirk de Visser

Particulars

511,879

2491.3

1 Nov 1928 Batavia

Invoice Value

211,351

11 13 0 0

51 45 4 0

117 59 1 1

According to K.A. 2046 the master was Adriann van der Graaf. 174,166

46 28 5 1

119 119 53 53 11 11 1 1

From 2 Jul - 10 Jul 1733 at Guinea: 1 seafarer deserted. Wrecked at Bantam in September 1740.

204 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 4. Belaying Points used on the Model of Valkenisse.

Standing Rigging

Line

Belay

Stay Tackle, P & S

Self at forecastle beam

Stay Tackle Guy, P & S

Belfry rail

Main Side Tackles, P & S

Selves at main channel

Main Top Rope, P & S

Lower horizontal pins on main mast

Main Topmast Stay Fall

Small knight abaft fore mast

Main Topgallant Stay Fall

Self in fore top

Fore Side Tackles, P & S

Selves at fore channels

Fore Top Rope

Lower horizontal pins on fore mast

Fore Topmast Stay Fall

Forecastle pinrail, hitched at centerline, via arc fairlead hole 4

Mizzen Side Tackles, P & S

Selves at mizzen channels

Mizzen Topmast Stay Fall

Bitt bolster abaft main mast

Sprit Topmast Backstay

No. 3 port deadeye chain in sprit top

All Backstays

Selves

Gammoning

Self

Main Tye

Main Halyard

Large knight abaft main mast

Main Parrel Falls, P & S

Upper horizontal pins on main mast

Running Rigging from Main Lifts, P & S Main Braces, P & S the Main Yard Main Sheet, P & S

Outboard sheaves in main bitts, bolster Cleats on poop deck margin Staghorns under quarterdeck

Main Tacks, P & S

Forward staghorns in waist

Main Clewlines, P & S

No. 3 pins, quarterdeck extension

Main Bowlines, P & S

Belfry rail

Main Topsail Tye

Main Topsail Halyard

On bitts

Main Topsail Parrel

Self

Running Rigging from Main Topsail Lifts, P & S Main Topsail Braces, P & S the Main Topsail Yard Main Topsail Sheets, P & S

No. 1 pins quarterdeck pinrail Bulwark knights Inboard sheave in main bitts, bolster

Main Topsail Clewlines, P & S

Outboard end of main bitts

Main Topsail Reef Lines, P & S

No. 4 pins, quarterdeck pinrail

Main Topsail Bowlines, P & S

Outboard end of belfry rail

Main Topgallant Tye

Main Topgallant Halyard

No. 5 pin, quarterdeck pinrail

Main Topgallant Parrel

Self

Running Rigging from Main Topgallant Lifts, P & S the Main Topgallant Yard Main Topgallant Braces, P & S Main Topgallant Sheets, P & S

No. 1 deadeye chains in main top No. 3 cleats, mizzen shrouds See main topsail lifts

Main Topgallant Clewlines, P & S

No. 2 deadeye chains in main top

Main Topgallant Bowlines, P & S

No. 5 pins, forecastle pinrail

Fore Tye

Fore Halyard

Large knight abaft fore mast

Fore Parrel Falls, P & S

Upper horizontal pins on fore mast

Fore Lifts, P & S

Outboard sheave in fore bitts

Running Rigging from Fore Braces, P & S the Fore Sheets, P & S Fore Yard Fore Tacks, P & S

Bulwark cleats at break of forecastle After staghorns in waist Stanchions, beakhead pinrail

Fore Clewlines, P & S

No. 2 pins, forecastle pinrail

Fore Bowline, Starboard

No. 1 pin, beakhead pinrail, via arc fairlead hole 2

Fore Bowline, Port

No. 1 pin, beakhead pinrail, via arc fairlead hole 7

APPENDIXES É 205

Appendix 4, continued. Line

Belay

Fore Topsail Tye

Fore Topsail Halyard

No. 7 pin, forecastle pinrail, starboard

Fore Topsail Parrel

Self

Running Rigging from Fore Topsail Lifts, P & S the Fore Topsail Braces, P & S Fore Topsail Yard Fore Topsail Sheets, P & S

Outboard ends of fore bitts No. 4 pins, forecastle pinrail

Fore Topsail Bowlines, P & S

Beakhead pinrail, hitched inboard of stanchion, via gammoning rack hole 1

Mizzen Jeers

Upper horizontal pin on mizzen mast

Mizzen Parrel Fall

Lower horizontal pin on mizzen mast No. 5 cleat, mizzen shrouds, starboard No. 1 pins, quarterdeck pinrail under sun deck Cleat on poop deck on centerline

Mizzen Vang

Cleat on Taffrail

Crossjack Sling

Self No. 4 cleats. mizzen shrouds No. 9 pins, quarterdeck pinral

Mizzen Topsail Tye

Mizzen Topsail Halyard

No. 5 cleat, mizzen shrouds, port

Running Rigging from Mizzen Topsail Lifts, P & S the Mizzen Topsail Braces, P & S Mizzen Topsail Yard Mizzen Topsail Sheets, P & S

No. 1 deadeye chains in mizzen top No. 7 pins, quarterdeck pinrail No. 1 cleats, mizzen shrouds

Mizzen Topsail Clewlines, P & S

No. 2 cleats, mizzen shrouds

Mizzen Topsail Bowlines, P & S

No. 8 pins, quarterdeck pinrail

Spritsail Halyard

No. 2 pin, range

Sprit Running Lifts, P & S

Bowsprit cleats, via gammoning rack hole 3

Running Rigging from Spritsail Braces, P & S the Spritsail Sheets, P & S Spritsail Yard Spritsail Clewline, Starboard

No. 6 pins, forecastle pinrail Cleats in waist No. 1 pin, range

Spritsail Clewline, Port

No. 6 pin, range

Sprit Topsail Tye

Sprit Topsail Halyard

No. 5 pin, range

Sprit Topsail Lifts, P & S

No. 1 deadeye chains in sprit top

Running Rigging from Sprit Topsail Brace, Starboard the Sprit Topsail Brace, Port Sprit Topsail Yard Sprit Topsail Sheets, P & S

Miscellaneous

Inboard sheaves in fore bitts, bolster

Fore Topsail Reef Lines, P & S

Running Rigging from Crossjack Parrel the Crossjack Lifts, P & S Crossjack Yard Crossjack Braces, P & S

Signal Halyards

Belfry rail

Fore Topsail Clewlines, P & S

Running Rigging from Mizzen Lift the Mizzen Bowlines, P & S Mizzen Yard Mizzen Sheet

Running Rigging for the Staysails

No. 3 pins, forecastle pinrail

Beakhead pinrail, hitched between pins 1 & 2 Beakhead pinrail, hitched between pins 3 & 4 These are same lines as spritsail running lift

Sprit Topsail Clewline, Starboard

Bowsprit cleat, via arc fairlead hole 1

Sprit Topsail Clewline, Port

Bowsprit cleat, via arc fairlead hole 8

Main Staysail Halyard

Self

Main Topmast Staysail Halyard

Self

Fore Topmast Staysail Halyard

Self

Mizzen Staysail Halyard

Self

Main Pole Signal Halyards

Main pole above topgallant cap

Fore Pole Signal Halyards

Fore pole above topgallant cap

Mizzen Pole Signal Halyards

Mizzen pole above topmast cap

Sprit Topmast Signal Halyards

Sprit pole above topmast cap

Taffrail Signal Halyards

Taffrail pole above cap

Catstopper, Starboard

Staghorn, beakhead pinrail, starboard

Catstopper, Port

Staghorn, beakhead pinrail, port

206 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5. Contemporary Models and Graphic Art Representations of VOC and Related Vessels. Underlined entries are approximate. N.v. = Not visible in available graphic references to this example. A dash (–) indicates a feature is not modeled or pictured, as sails on an unrigged model or the figurehead in a stern-view painting. Blue shaded fields indicate features affected on the model of Valkenisse during current reconditioning. Red shaded fields indicate vessels with spritsail topmasts except Valkenisse. Name

Vessel Chamber Date

Medium

Location of Artifact

Institution

Prins Willem

1651

Model

Amsterdam

Rijksmuseum

Pieter en Paul

1698

Painting Amsterdam

National Maritime Museum

Jacobs, Pursuit, p. 46; Arts Unlimited Amsterdam postcard

De Swarte Leeuw

1700

Drawing Amsterdam

Royal Antiquarian Society

Unidentified book about Jan van der Heyden

Unidentified, Helsingør

1700

Model

Danish Maritime Museum

Unidentified, van der Meulen

1700

Etching

Unidentified, Meereskunde

1710

Model

Berlin

Institut für Meereskunde

Hoorn

Drawing

Haarlem

Teylers Museum

S 70

Zeeland

Model

Boston

Museum of Fine Arts

32.183

Anderson, MM XVIII, pls. II-IV; Chapelle, "Model Room," pp. 69, 70; McLanathan, pls. 21-23; Stephens, pls. 22, 23; Woods, Napier, p. 201

Edinburgh

Natinal Museums of Scotland

T.1882. .28.18

Anderson, MM XVIII, pl. V; Williams, p. 97

Rerigged by R.C. Anderson about 1900

Paris, vol. 1, pl. 51; Anderson, Rigging, pl. 23

She's a warship, but the date is good

Unidentified, Rietschoof

Elsinore

Accession Number

Published Images Culver, pl. 1; Nance, pl. 21

"Navigiorum Ædificatio" series of 16 prints by Sieuwert van der Meulen (de Groot, pls. 138153); gangway across waist

Koester, pl. 36

Model not proportioned well enough to be dependable; gangways over waist Shows VOC vessel being repaired, only lower masts stepped

Bataviase Eeuw

1719

Model

Gertruda

1720

Engraving

Oostrust

1721

Amsterdam

Model

Antwerp

National Maritime NMM (Antwerp), p. 43; Steen bookA.S.58.78 Museum let, pp. 21, 25

Padmos/Blydorp

1722 Rotterdam

Model

Rotterdam

Maritiem Museum Rotterdam

Zeven Provincien Seven Provinces

1723

Model

London

National Maritime Museum

Jonge Jacob

1724

Model

Antwerp

National Maritime NMM (Antwerp), p. 26; Steen bookA.S.26.7.1 Museum let, front cover

den Ary

1725

Model

Amsterdam

National Maritime Museum

Unidentified, NSM

1740

Model

Amsterdam

National Maritime Museum

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

1742 Enkhuizen

Model

Amsterdam

National Maritime Museum

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

1745

Amsterdam

Model

Amsterdam

Rijksmuseum

1747

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

mid1700s

Bleiswijk

1758

de Barbersteyn

1767

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

mid1700s

Zeeland

Delft

M 201

Anderson, MM XVIII, pl. IV; Waite, p. 63

A 149

S 2397

Contemporary rigging (Bruzelius, p. 54, Anderson)

Edwards, pls. 2-8; Koester, pp. 37, 38 Waite Catalog Number 1723-1. Bruzelius says there probably wasn't a VOC ship of this name (p. 55); probably rerigged by Anderson Perhaps not a VOC vessel

Koester, pp. 39, 40; Nance, pl. 75; NSM, 1943 Catalog, pls. 13-15; Platen-Album, pls. 32, 33; Jacobs, Pursuit, p. 92

Koester, p. 40 is only full view of model

Nance, pl. 80

Model for a proposed charter, not of specific vessel (Hoving, e-mail, 19 Aug 99)

Jacobs, Amsterdam, p. 17; Jacobs, Pursuit, p. 28; Dessens & Spits, p. 8; museum postcard

Removable aft deck over cabin. Crew. AH says rigging is original

Fenwick, et al., p. 54; HOLLANDIA, p. 65; Jacobs, AMSTERDAM, p, 22

Unrigged model; galley gap under forecastle

Model probably built in Middelburg for decorative use in VOC hall; repaired in Rotterdam MC 652 Koester, p. 73; Marsden, pp. 73, 109 by P. van der Loo; plank-on-frame with rig dating from about 1780; probably not VOC ship (Bruzelius, p. 77)

Model

Amsterdam

Rijksmuseum

Model

Rotterdam

Maritiem Museum Rotterdam

Model

Dordrecht

Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home

Model

Antwerp

National Maritime A.S.43.9.2 NMM (Antwerp), p. 17 Museum

Model

Enkhuizen Zuiderzeemuseum ZZM 7639

Model

Rotterdam

Maritiem Museum Rotterdam

"Een halfverbrand schip van de VOC", drawing of fire-ravaged East Indiaman by jan van der Heyden

de Groot, pls. 138-153

1717

Mercurius

Topgallant yards struck; no sprit topsail yard

Very deteriorated model

Valkenisse

Amsterdam

Comments

Nance, pl. 86

M 1976

HOLLANDIA, p. 35; MSvG Museum postcard

Model's bell dated 1739 (de Bruyn, letter); ship built in 1758 (Dutch-Asiatic Shipping)

APPENDIXES É 207

Appendix 5, continued. Photographic Images in House

Name on Source

Scale

Model Construction

Tuck

Helm

Prins Willem

N.v.

Unknown

N.v.

Square

N.v.

Pieter en Paul

N.v.

–

Square

–

De Swarte Leeuw

N.v.

–

Square

–

Name Photog.

Unidentified, Helsingør

Museum Image Numbers

Unknown

Plank-on-frame

N.v.

Missing

–

Square

N.v.

Uncrowned lion

Unidentified, Meereskunde

Not to scale

N.v.

Plain

–

Square

N.v.

Male blowing on conch?

Yes

1:29.3

Plank-on-frame

Square

None

Polychrome fulllength male

1:32 (Bruzelius, p. 48); 1:27.5 (Ander- Plank-on-frame son)

Square

Valkenisse

Bataviase Eeuw

.jpg, 1

Head

Unidentified, van der Meulen

Unidentified, Rietschoof

Bruzelius

Image Distribution

22.5x14.5cm b&w print, 1

Hickey

Digital slides, 76

MFA

35mm slides, 2

Morrison

4x5in color trans, 16 4xin5 b&w negs, 5

USNAM

8x10in b&w print, 1

NMS

8x10in color print, 1 8x10in b&w prints, 5

1731-1733, 17351739, 1742, 51505155, 10730-10731

Gertruda RN NMM

7x9.5in b&w prints, 7

Padmos/Blydorp

35mm slides, 17

Zeven Provincien

NMM

5x7in b&w prints, 3

35mm slides, 11

NMM

7x9.5in b&w prints, 1

35mm slides, 9 35mm b&w negs, 8

NSM

misc. b&w prints, 8

Broadside A6125; Bow A6126; Quarter A3972

Jonge Jacob

A149(1)a, b, c-g; NH18, NH19

Unidentified, NSM

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

35mm slides, 5 35mm b&w negs, 15

NSM

misc. b&w prints, 5

S2397, S2397b-d, f

Whipstaff Heavy, helmeted (Anderson) male's head

N.v.

–

Square

N.v.

Lion

Yes

1:36 (NMM (Antwerp), p. 43); 1:33 (Bruzelius, p. 54)

N.v.

Square

N.v.

Gold, crowned lion

Yes

1:33 (Bruzelius, p. 55)

N.v.

Square

N.v.

Red & gold, uncrowned lion

Yes

1:33

Plank-on-frame

Square

N.v.

Female torso

35mm slides, 11

Oostrust

den Ary

Yes

1:40 (NMM (Antwerp), p. 26)

N.v.

Square (?)

N.v.

Gold, crowned lion

Yes

1:30 (Bruzelius, p. 55)

N.v.

Square

Wheel

Gilded woman with babe in arms

Unknown

N.v.

Square

N.v.

Yes

Unknown

N.v.

Round

Wheel

Red & gold, crowned lion

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

1:30

Plank-on-frame

Round

Wheel

Uncrowned lion

Mercurius

N.v.

Unknown

Plank-on-frame

N.v.

Torso

N.v.

Unknown

N.v.

Crowned lion

Yes

Unknown

N.v.

Round

Wheel

Red & gold, crowned lion

N.v.

Square

12-spoke Wheel Red & gold, (NMM crowned lion (Antwerp), p. 17)

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia RN Bleiswijk

35mm slides, 21 35mm b&w negs, 5

Rozendaal

5x7in b&w prints, 6

35mm slides, 4

de Barbersteyn

N.v. NMM

7x9.5in b&w print, 1

35mm slides, 16

ZMM

20x25cm color print, 1

35mm slides, 5 35mm b&w negs, 17

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

1:30 (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17)

N.v.

Unknown

Plank-on-frame

Square

Whipstaff

Red & gold, crowned lion

N.v.

Unknown

N.v.

Round

N.v.

Gold, crowned lion

208 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Zonnedek Sunroof

Ladders

Schoorsteen Smokehead

Belfry

Rahout Color

Prins Willem

N.v.

Pieter en Paul

–

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

N.v.

–

N.v.

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v.

–

Unidentified, Meereskunde

N.v.

No vensters

N.v.

Straight, on starboard halfdek wing (TM image)

–

No vensters (TM image)

Name

Unidentified, Rietschoof

Yes, mizzen aft

Valkenisse

Yes, mizzen aft

Straight, square, on centerline at bakdek break

N.v.

No (TM image)

Venster Frames Ornate

Taffrail Lanterns 0

Too neutral to No vensters identify

Yes, simple molding, curved top, new by RN

3 –

0 (TM image)

Straight, 6-tread, pierced, Straight, on starboard halfdek, new Yes, with rail; new by 3 new by RN by RN RN

Originally black

2 curved, 8-tread to halfdek, 1 7-tread curved to companjedek, probably built up (RMS images)

No belfry; bakdek is unplanked, rigging is belayed directly to aftermost deck beam

Natural (RMS No vensters (RMS images) images)

Gertruda

Yes, mizzen aft

N.v.

Oostrust

Yes, mizzen through

Black risers with red treads (RN images). Stairs to bakdek clearly built up (NMM (Antwerp), p. 43)

N.v.

Yes, ornate, with solid rail, no lines belyaed on rail (Steen booklet, p. 25; RN images)

Padmos/Blydorp

Yes, mizzen through

Curved, 6-tread to Painted black halfdek, straight 5-tread Straight, port side ahead of halfdek No (Edwards, pls. 4-6) (RN images) to bakdek, probably built (Edwards, pls. 3,4) up (Edwards, pls. 6, 7)

Two, same size and shape as halfdek 3 (RN images) ports, filled in (Edwards, pl. 3; Koester, pl. 37)

Zeven Provincien

Simple, straight, probably built up (Anderson, NMM images)

Light colored (NMM images)

3 (Anderson); 0 No vensters (Ander(NMM images, son, NMM images) Waite)

Yes, mizzen through

Straight red ladders to both decks (RN images)

Gilded (RN images)

One, rectangular, no frame (NMM (Antwerp), p. 26; RN images)

3 (RN images)

One, rectangular, Probably gildornate frame with ed (RN scroll top (RN images) images)

1 (RN images)

Bataviase Eeuw

Jonge Jacob

den Ary

Yes, mizzen through

N.v.

No; rigging belayed directly on low open rail

Straight, port side ahead of halfdek Yes, with rail (RN ladder (RN images) images)

Simple, 7-tread to halfdek (Jacobs, Pursuit, p. 92). Straight, on starboard halfdek wing Probably built up (Platen- (Jacobs, Pursuit, p. 92; PlatenYes (RN images) Album, pl. 32) Album, pl. 32; RN images)

Unidentified, NSM

N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Mercurius

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

N.v.

Yes, mizzen through

de Barbersteyn

N.v.

Simple, red to both decks Natural with red moldings, curved, Yes, no rail (RN (Jacobs, Pursuit, p. 28; near centerline abaft bakdek break images) RN images) (Jacobs, Pursuit, p. 28; RN images) Simple, to halfdek; to bakdek n.v.

Gilded (RN images)

N.v.

Yes, no rail (Marsden, p. 73)

Black (Marsden, p. 73)

N.v.

Natural with brass (?) tread plates (RN images)

N.v.

Yes, no rail (RN images)

Probably built up (NMM (Antwerp) images)

N.v.

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

N.v.

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

8 dark treads, green risers (RN images)

N.v.

Simple, red 6-tread to Red, straight, port side on bakdek halfdek (Marsden, p. 73) (Koester, p. 73; Marsden, p. 73)

No vensters

None (RN images)

No vensters (Nance, pl. 80)

0 (RMS images)

0 (Paris)

3 (NMM (Antwerp) images; RN images)

0 (Nance, pl. 80)

Black and yellow (RN None (NSM photos) 2 (RN images) images)

Yes (HOLLANDIA, p. 65)

Bleiswijk

N.v.

–

No vensters

0 (HOLLANDIA, p. 65)

One, arch-top with little roof (Koester, 0 (Koester, p. 73) p. 73) N.v.

1 (Nance, pl. 86)

Yellow and green (RN images)

None (MSvG Postcard)

0 (RN images)

Black (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17)

None (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17)

1 (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17)

No (RN images)

Black (ZMM image)

None (ZMM image) 0 (RN images)

No (RN images)

Buff (RN images)

None (RN images)

Yes

0 (RN images)

APPENDIXES É 209

Appendix 5, continued. Gunport Distribution, each side Broadside Gunports

Name Overloop-dek

Verdek

Halfdek

Prins Willem

Unclear

Pieter en Paul

–

De Swarte Leeuw

N.v.

Unidentified, Helsingør

N.v.

Unidentified, van der Meulen

Stern, Swivels, Oveloop- CampanTotal for dek jedek Ship

Gun Disposition

Lid Position

Verdek Gunport Trim

Bottom of Verdek Trim InterruptsLine of Berghout

Run out on overloopdek, none on verdek

Upright

Round decorated wreath

–

Run out on verdek

3/4 raised

No trim

–

N.v.

–

No guns

–

No trim

–

N.v.

No guns

N.v.

No trim

–

Various arrangement in series

–

No trim

–

Unidentified, Meereskunde

N.v.

Run out on overloopdek and verdek, no guns on halfdek

Upright

No trim

–

Unidentified, Rietschoof

No guns in open ports

3/4 raised

Valkenisse

No guns

Bataviase Eeuw

No guns

Upright

Light geometric molding, Yes (RMS images) 4 sides (Anderson)

Gertruda

Run out on three decks

3/4 raised

Heavy scroll, 4 sides (Paris)

Oostrust

Run out on three decks

Lids resting on guns

Light geometric molding, No (NMM (Antwerp) 4 sides, gilded (RN images) images)

Padmos/Blydorp

2 real 2 false

Run out on three decks

3/4 raised

Simple molding, 3 sides, No (Koester, pl. 37) black (RN images)

Zeven Provincien

Run out on three decks

Horizontal

Simple molding, 3 & 4 sides (Anderson, NMM images)

Yes, same as Bataviase Eeuw

Jonge Jacob

Run out on three decks

Lids resting on guns

No trim, and no obvious footprints (RN images)

–

den Ary

4 real 1 false

Run out on three decks

Upright

Heavier floral pattern, 4 Yes (NSM images) same sides, gilded (RN as Bataviase Eeuw images)

Unidentified, NSM

No guns

Upright

No, but port sheer difNo trim (Nance, pl. 80) fers from strake sheer (Nance, p. 80)

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Run out on verdek and halfdek, overloopdek ports closed

Closed

No (NSM images), decSimple molding, 3 sides, orative molding stops at yellow (RN images) berghout edge

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

N.v.

No guns

Mercurius

N.v.

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

N.v.

Bleiswijk

de Barbersteyn

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Lightly indicated (TM image)

Slightly above Floral pattern, top & horizontal sides, new by RN

Closed stbd; open port

No trim

No (Paris)

–

Overloopdek ports closed, no guns on weather decks

Closed

Simple molding, 4 sides, Yes (Marsten, pl. 73), yellow (Koester, p. 73; same as Bataviase Eeuw Marsden, p. 73)

Overloopdek ports closed, guns run out on verdek, no guns on halfdek

Closed

No trim (Nance, pl. 86)

Run out on verdek, overloopdek ports closed

Closed, no lanyards

N.v.

Run out on verdek, no guns on halfdek, overloopdek ports closed

Run out on overloopdek and verdek, no guns on halfdek

Various posi- Simple molding, circular, No, but port sheer diftions red (ZZM image) fers from strake sheer

N.v.

Run out on three decks

3/4 raised

Closed

–

Simple molding, 3 sides, No (RN images) yellow (RN images) Simple molding, 4 sides, No, but port sheer difgold (RN images) fers from strake sheer

Simple molding, 3 and 4 sides, buff (RN images)

Yes, same as d' Gerechtigheid

210 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Kruishouten Staghorns

Pinrail at Break of Verdek

Campanjedek Rail At Side / At Break

Grote Smijt Main Tack Fairleads

Belaying Points on Shrouds

Prins Willem

N.v.

Yes, rails / N.v.

Yes, ornate but unclear

Pinrails in mizzen shrouds

Pieter en Paul

–

None

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Yes

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

N.v.

–

N.v.

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v.

Yes, bulwark / Yes, scroll

Yes, unclear

N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

N.v.

Yes, open rails / Yes, open rails

None

Unidentified, Rietschoof

N.v.

No / No (TM image)

Yes

None

Yes, rails / Yes, scroll

Yes, like Bataviase Eeuw, new by RN

Name

Valkenisse

2 in waist abaft ports 4 & 5; 1 Yes, open beneath, pins fitted; on halfdek abaft port 3 new by RN

Bataviase Eeuw

1 at rail height in waist abaft Rail continues solid beneath, port 4; 2 on halfdek at rail pins on add-on inboard rail height abaft ports 1 & 2 (RMS (RMS images) images)

Gertruda

N.v.

Rail continues, open beneath, no pins (Paris)

N.v.

Yes, fancy (Paris)

None

Yes, bulwark / Yes, carved (Steen booklet, p. 25)

None on main shrouds; 1 Yes, three figures above design cleat on after fore shroud, below (NMM (Antwerp) image) each side; pinrails in mizzen shrouds

Short rail continues, open below, pins fitted (Edwards, pls. 2, 3, 5)

Yes, bulwark / Yes, rail (Edwards, pls. 2 & 3; RN images)

Yes, small design (Edwards, pl. 4)

None

Short rail constinues, open below, pins fitted (NMM images)

Yes, open bulwark / Yes, carving (NMM images)

Yes, serpent (NMM images)

None

Rail continues, open below, no 1 below rail in waist abaft port pins — too far forward of rig4 (RN images) ging? (RN images)

No / No (RN images)

Yes, unclear pattern (NMM (Antwerp) images, RN image)

1 cleat on aftermost fore and main shrouds; pinrails in mizzen shrouds

3 below rail in waist abaft ports 3-5 (NSM images); 1 on Rail continues, open beneath, halfdek abaft port 2 (RN no pins (RN images) images)

Yes, rail / Yes, carved (NSM iamges)

Yes, florals (NSM images)

None

N.v.

N.v. / N.v.

Yes, plain (Nance, pl. 80)

None

Oostrust

1 below rail in waist abaft port New rail, solid beneath, no 4 (NMM (Antwerp) images) pins (NMM (Antwerp) images)

Padmos/Blydorp

1 at rail height in waist abaft port 5 (Edwards, pls. 3-5)

Zeven Provincien

3 below rail in waist abaft ports 3 & 5; 1 on halfdek abaft port 1 (NMM images)

Jonge Jacob

den Ary

Unidentified, NSM

Yes, bulwark / Yes, low carved Yes, human face over leaves (RMS images) (RMS images)

One cleat on each mizzen shroud

N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

2 below rail in waist abaft ports 2 & 4 (NSM images)

Rail continues, solid beneath, no pins (RN images)

No / No (NSM images)

Yes, serpent (NMM images, RN image)

None on main shrouds; some cleats on fore shrouds; cleats on all mizzen shrouds

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

2 in verdek waist; 1 on halfdek

Rail continues open, no pins (HOLLANDIA, p. 65)

Yes, open rail / No

Yes, plain chesstree molded at bottom (Jacobs, AMSTERDAM, p. 22)

–

Mercurius

N.v.

Rail continues, solid beneath, no pins (Marsden, pp. 73, 109)

Yes, rail / Yes, rail (Marsden, Yes, plain chesstree (Koester, p. p. 73) 73)

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

N.v.

Curved hances (Nance, pl. 86)

Yes, rail / Yes, carving (Nance, pl. 86)

Yes, serpent (Nance, pl. 86)

Some cleats in main and fore shrouds, none in mizzen shrouds

Bleiswijk

2 at rail height in waist abaft ports 4 & 5 (RN images)

Rail continues, solid beneath, no pins (RN images)

No / No (HOLLANDIA, p. 35)

Yes, plain (MSVG image, RN image)

Some cleats on fore shrouds; main N.v.; some on mizzen

de Barbersteyn

1 in waist abaft port 5 (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17)

Rail continues, solid beneath, no room for pins (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17)

Yes, tapering bulwark / No (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17)

Yes, serpent (NMM (Antwerp) image)

Some cleats on mizzen shrouds; others N.v.

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

2 below rail in waist abaft ports 3 & 4; 1 on halfdek (ZZM image)

Rail does not continue (ZZM image)

Yes, carved / Yes, carved (ZMM image)

No (ZZM image)

Pinrails in fore, main, and mizzen shrouds

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

2 with vertical horns below rail Rail continues, solid beneath, in waist abaft ports no pins (RN images)

No / No (RN images)

Yes, plain (RN image)

Pinrails in mizzen shrouds, some lines belayed on sheer poles

None

APPENDIXES É 211

Appendix 5, continued. Spritsail Lower Shrouds Topmast Shrouds Topmast Backstays Topgallant Shrouds Topgallant Shrouds Topmast Mizzen/Main/Fore Mizzen/Main/Fore Mizzen/Main/Fore Mizzen/Main/Fore Mizzen/Main/Fore / each side each side each side each side each Side Shrouds Main & Mizzen each side Fore

Deadeye Chains Name

Rigged

Sails

Prins Willem

Yes

Mizzen & mizzen topsail set, other sails furled or in bunt

Links

5/9/9

3/5/4

1/1/1

– / N.v. / N.v.

0/1/1

Yes / 3

Pieter en Paul

Yes

Fore lower, fore and main topsails, and mizzen set; others furled

Links

3/6/–

3/3/3

N.v.

0/2/2

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

Yes / 2

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Links

-/8/-

–

Yes / N.v.

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / 6

–/–/–

–/–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

Yes

Various in series

N.v.

4/8/6

3/4/4

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

0 / 2 / N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

Yes / 2

Unidentified, Meereskunde

Yes

None

N.v.

5/7/6

2/4/3

1/2/2

0/2/2

0/1/1

Yes / 2

Unidentified, Rietschoof

None

N.v.

5/8/7

–

Yes / –

Valkenisse

Yes

None

Links

Rods

5 / 10 / 9

3/6/6

1/2/1

–/2/2

0//

Yes / 3

Bataviase Eeuw

Yes

Lowers in bunt, topsails and topgallants set (RMS images)

Links

5/9/8

3/5/4

1/1/1

0/2/2

0/1/1

Yes / 3

Gertruda

Yes

Fore course, 3 topsails set, others furled

Links

5 / 10 / 9

3 / 4 / N.v.

1/1/1

2/2/2

N.v. / 2 / 2

Yes / 3

Oostrust

Yes

All sails set

Links

4/8/7

3/5/5

1/2/1

0/3/3

0/1/1

Yes / 3

Padmos/Blydorp

Yes

None

Links

Plates

4/8/7

3/4/?

1/1/1

0/2/2

0/1/1

Yes / 3

Zeven Provincien

Yes

None

Links

4/9/7

3/4/4

1/2/2

0/3/3

0/1/1

Yes / 3

Jonge Jacob

Yes

None

Links

4/8/7

3/4/4

1/1/1

0/3/3

0/1/1

Yes / 3

den Ary

Yes

None

Links

Rods

6/9/8

4/5/4

1/2/1

0/2/2

1/1/1

No / –

Unidentified, NSM

Yes

All sails set including mizzen topgallant, main & fore royals, and topmast studdingsails (Nance, pl. 80)

Links

5/8/7

3/5/?

1/1/?

0/2/2

0/1/?

No / –

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Yes

None

Links

5/8/7

3/5/5

1/2/2

0/3/3

0/1/1

No / –

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

–

Links

5/9/8

–

0/2/1

–

Mercurius

Yes

Sails set in Koester image but loosely furled in Marsden

Links

N.v.

5/9/8

4/5/5

1/2/2

3/5/5

1/1/1

No / –

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

Yes

Topsails and topgallants fartheled, oth- Rods & chains ers furled (Nance, pl. 86)

Rods

4/7/6

3/5/4

1/2/2

2/3/3

1/1/1

No / –

Bleiswijk

Yes

Topsails fartheled, others furled (RN images)

Links

4/8/7

3/4/4

1/2/2

0/3/3

0/1/?

Yes / 3

de Barbersteyn

Yes

Topsails fartheled, others furled (NMM (Antwerp), p. 17; RN images)

Links

5/8/7

3/5/5

1/2/2

0/3/3

0/1/1

No / –

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Yes

Topsails and topgallants fartheled, others furled (ZMM image)

Links

4/6/5

3/4/4

1/1/1

0/?/?

0/1/1

Yes / 3

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Yes

None

Plates

4/7/6

3/5/4

1/2/2

0/3/2

1/1/1

No / –

212 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Name

Shape of Sheer Poles Top Shape / Timbers Channel Ends Lower/Top/Topgallant

Prins Willem

Mizzen Top

Topgallant Yards Mizzen/Main/Fore

Yardarm Stops / Tip Shape

Side of Mizzen Mizzen Yard Yard on Mast Comb

No / N.v. / N.v.

Round / N.v.

Similar to main

No / No / No

N.v. / Round

Starboard

Pieter en Paul

Square

No / No / No

N.v.

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

N. v / N.v.

Starboard

N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw

Square

–

–/–

–

–/–/–

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

Square

–

–/–

–

–/–/–

–/–

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

Square

No / No / No

Round / N.v.

Similar to main

No / No / No

N.v. / N.v.

Starboard

N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

Square

Yes / Yes / Yes

D-shaped / N.v.

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

N.v. / Flat

Port

Unidentified, Rietschoof

N.v.

Unrigged

Tops not aloft

Similar to main

–/–/–

–/–

–

Valkenisse

Hooked

No / No / No

D-shaped / hook over rim

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

Yes / Flat

Starboard

Bataviase Eeuw

Hooked

No / No / No

Like Valkenisse / Yes

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

N.v. / N.v.

Port

Gertruda

N.v.

No / No / No

Like Valkenisse / N.v.

Similar to main

Yes / Yes / Yes

N.v. / N.v.

Starboard

Oostrust

Hooked

Yes / No / No

Like Valkenisse / Yes, hook over rim (NMM (Antwerp) images)

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

N.v. / Round

Port

Padmos/Blydorp

Hooked

Yes / Yes / Yes

Round / N.v. (Edwards, pl. 6)

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

Yes / Round

Starboard

Zeven Provincien

Hooked

No / No / No

Round / Yes, flush with top of rim

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

N.v. / N.v.

Starboard

Jonge Jacob

Hooked

Yes / Yes / Yes

Like Valkenisse / Yes, hook over rim (NMM (Antwerp) images)

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

Shoulders / Round

Port

den Ary

Hooked

Yes / Yes / No

Like Valkenisse / Yes, flush with top of rim (NSM image)

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

Yes / Flat

Starboard

Yes

Unidentified, NSM

Hooked

No / No / No

Like Valkenisse / N.v. (Nance, pl. 80)

Similar to main

Yes / Yes / Yes

N.v. / Round

Starboard

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Hooked

Yes / No / No

Like Valkenisse / Yes, hook over rim (NSM image)

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

Cleats / Round except main & fore lowers in wake of irons

Starboard

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Hooked

–/–/–

–/–

–

–/–/–

–/–

–

Mercurius

Hooked

No / No / No

N.v.

Similar to main

Yes / Yes / Yes

N.v. / N.v.

Starboard

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

N.v.

Yes / Yes / No

N.v.

Similar to main

Yes / Yes / Yes

N.v. / Flat

Starboard

Bleiswijk

N.v.

Yes / No / No

Like Valkenisse / Yes, flush with top of rim (MSvG image)

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

Shoulders / Flat

Starboard

de Barbersteyn

Hooked

Yes / No / No

Like Valkenisse / N.v.

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

Cleats / Flat

Starboard

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Hooked

No / Yes / No

Like Valkenisse / Yes, flush with top of rim (RN image)

Similar to main

No / Yes / Yes

N.v. / Round

Starboard

Yes

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Hooked

Yes / Yes / No

Like Valkenisse / No (RN image)

Similar to main

No / Yes / No

N.v. / Round except main & fore lowers in wake of irons

Starboard

APPENDIXES É 213

Appendix 5, continued. Studdingsails

Studdingsail Booms Shape/Length as Percent of Yard

Bobstay Number/Weight/Fittings

Parrels

Side Tackles Mizzen/Main/Fore

Prins Willem

None

–/–

1 / N.v. / Deadeyes

N.v.

N.v. / 1 / N.v.

Pieter en Paul

None

–/–

–/–/–

–

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw

–

–/–

–/–/–

–

–/–/–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

–/–

–/–/–

–

–/–/–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

None

–/–

0/–/–

N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

None

–/–

0/–/–

2-truck: mizzen yard; 1-truck: sprit yard; N.v.: all others

No / No / No

Unidentified, Rietschoof

–

–/–

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

–

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

Valkenisse

Main & fore lowers, abaft yards, 2 8-shaped irons, outside rigging at stops

Round for full length / 42%

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main & fore yards; 2-truck: crossjack, fore & main topsail yards, mizzen and sprit yards; rope: all others

1/2/2

Bataviase Eeuw

Main & fore lowers, abaft yards, irons like den Ary

Round for full length, slight taper / 40%

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main & fore yards; 2-truck: all others

1/2/2

Gertruda

Main & fore lowers, ahead of yard, irons not clear

N.v. / N.v.

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main yard; N.v.: all others

1 / 2 / N.v.

Oostrust

Main & fore lowers & topsails, lower irons inside rigging at stops

Round for full length / 45%

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main & fore yards; rope: sprit yard; N.v.: all others

1/2/2

Padmos/Blydorp

Main & fore lowers; ahead of yards; outer irons 8-shaped, near tips

N.v. / N.v.

1 / Double / Deadeyes

N.v.

1/2/2

Zeven Provincien

Main & fore lowers, abaft yards; irons like den Ary

N.v. / 41%

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main & fore yards; 2-truck: mizzen yard, main & fore topsail yards; rope: main & fore topgallants yards, sprit & sprit topsail yards; N.v.: crossjack

1/2/2

Jonge Jacob

Main & fore lowers & topsails; mounted forward & down; 1 8shaped iron at stops

N.v. / N.v.

1 / Double / Deadeyes

2-truck: mizzen yard; N.v.: all others

1/1/1

den Ary

Main & fore lowers, 2 8-shaped Round for full length, tapers to irons, outer are outside rigging at about 1/2 max. diameter / 42% stops

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main yard; 2-truck: mizzen yard, main topsail yard; rope: mizzen topsail yard, sprit yard; N.v.: all others

1/2/2

Unidentified, NSM

Main & fore lowers; abaft yards; outer irons at ends

Round for full length / 33%

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

0/1/1

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Main & fore lowers, 1 8-shaped iron, 1 square and round iron at end

Round for full length / 44%

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main yard; 2-truck: mizzen yard, main & fore topsail yards, main & fore topgallant yards; N.v.: fore lower yard, crossjack, sprit yard

1/2/2

–

–/–

–/–/–

–

1/2/2

Main & fore lowers & topsails; set abaft; irons not clear

Round for full length / N.v.

2 / Double / N.v.

N.v.

No / 2 / 1

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia Main & fore lowers; irons not clear

Round for full length / N.v.

2 / N.v. / Deadeyes

N.v.

1/2/2

Name

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum Mercurius

1 / Double / Deadeyes

3-truck: main yard; 2-truck: mizzen yard, fore, main, & mizzen topsail yards, main & fore topgallant yards, sprit & sprit topmast yards; N.v.: fore yard, crossjack

1/2/1

Round for full length / N.v.

1 / Double / Deadeyes

2-truck: main, fore, & mizzen yards, sprit yard; N.v.: all others

N.v. / 2 / 2

Main & fore lowers, 2 8-shaped irons, outer at end

Round for full length / 43%

2 / Double / Deadeyes

2-truck: mizzen yard; N.v.: all others

No / No / No

Main & fore lowers, 2 8-shaped irons, outer at end

Round for full length / 37%

1 / Single / Deadeyes

3-truck: main & fore yards; 2-truck: mizzen yard, crossjack, sprit yard; 1truck: main & mizzen topsail yards; N.v.: all others

1/2/2

Bleiswijk

Main & fore lowers, 2 8-shaped irons, outer at end

Round for full length, tapers to about 2/3 max. diameter / 38%

de Barbersteyn

Main & fore lowers, irons not clear

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

214 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Spar Colors Name

Masts

Yards

Hoists

Hounds

Heads

Tops

Caps

Poles

Trucks

Lengths

Slings

Arms

Studdingsail Booms

Prins Willem

N.v.

–

Pieter en Paul

Natural

Black

Gold

Natural

Black

N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

N.v.

–

Unidentified, Rietschoof

N.v.

–

Valkenisse

Natural

Black

Yellow

Natural

Black

Natural

Bataviase Eeuw

Natural

Black

Natural

Gertruda

–

Oostrust

Natural

Black

Padmos/Blydorp

Natural

Black

Gold

Natural

Black

–

Zeven Provincien

Natural

Black

Natural

N.v.

Black

Natural

Jonge Jacob

Natural

Black

Natural

Black

Black / Natural

Natural

Black

den Ary

Natural

Black

N.v.

Natural; Yards are much darker than hoists.

Natural

Unidentified, NSM

N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Natural

Black

Black / Red

Black

Gold

Natural

Black

Natural

–

Natural

N.v.

Natural

N.v.

Black

N.v.

Bleiswijk

Natural

Black

Gold

Natural

Black

Natural

de Barbersteyn

Natural

Black

Black / Red

Black

Natural

N.v.

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Natural

Black

Red

Black

Gold

Natural

Black

Natural

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Natural

Black

N.v.

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Mercurius

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

APPENDIXES É 215

Appendix 5, continued. Mouses Name

Mouse Side, Lower rigging

Lower Stay Topmasst Stay Mizzen/Main/Fore Mizzen/Main/Fore

Topgallant Stay Mizzen/Main/Fore

Prins Willem

Yes / N.v. / N.v.

Yes / Yes / Yes

Pieter en Paul

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw Unidentified, Helsingør

Mizzen

Main

Crowsfoot Euphroe Mizzen/Main/Fore

Fore

Euphroe Shape

Stay

Preventer

Stay

Preventer

– / Splice / Splice

Starboard

N.v.

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes, no tackles

N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

–

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

–/–/–

–

–/–/–

–

–/–/–

–

–/–/–

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

No / No / No

N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

Yes / Yes / Yes

Splice / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

–

Starboard

–

No / No / No

–

Unidentified, Rietschoof

Yes / Yes / Yes

–/–/–

–

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

–

Valkenisse

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

Port

Yes / Yes / Yes

Curved Yes, with tapering tackles sides, rounded ends

Bataviase Eeuw

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

N.v.

Yes / Yes / Yes

Staight sides, Yes, with ends roundtackles ed

Gertruda

Yes / N.v. / N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / Yes

Splice / Splice / Splice

N.v.

No / No / N.v.

Starboard Starboard –

Starboard Starboard

Oostrust

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

Port

Padmos/Blydorp

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

N.v.

Zeven Provincien

Yes / Yes / Yes

Splice / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

Jonge Jacob

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Yes / Yes

den Ary

Yes / Yes / Yes

Splice / Splice / Splice

N.v.

Starboard

–

Starboard

Unidentified, NSM

N.v. / Yes / N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Yes / Yes

–/–/–

–

Mercurius

Yes / Yes / Yes

N.v. / Yes / N.v.

Splice / Splice / Splice

N.v.

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

Yes / Yes / Yes

No / Yes / Yes

Splice / Splice / Splice Starboard Starboard

Bleiswijk

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

Port

Starboard Starboard

Port

de Barbersteyn

Yes / Yes / Yes

– / Splice / Splice

Port

Starboard Starboard

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Yes / Yes / Yes

Splice / Splice / Splice

– / Splice / Splice

Port

Starboard

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes / N.v. / Yes

N.v. / Splice / Splice

Port

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Starboard Starboard

N.v.

Starboard Starboard

–

N.v.

Mizzen yard same as Bataviase Yes, with Eeuw; sprit tackles topmast backstay, lozenge; stays, n.v.

Port

Starboard

Yes / Yes / Yes

–

N.v.

–

No / No / No

–

Starboard

–

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes, with Like Batavitackles ase Eeuw

Yes / Yes / Yes

Mizzen and Yes, with sprit topmast tackles like Oostrust

–

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes, no tackles

Like Bataviase Eeuw, but with slighter taper

N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

Port

No / No / No

–

None

–

–/–/–

–

N.v.

–

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes, with tackles

N.v.

No / No / No

–

None

Port

No / No / No

–

None

Port

Yes / Yes / Yes

Like Jonge Yes, with Jacob on tackles stays

–

Port

–

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes, with tackles

Port

–

No / Yes / Yes

Yes, with Teardrop tackles shape

Starboard Starboard Starboard Starboard Starboard

Starboard Starboard Starboard

N.v.

Starboard Starboard

–

None

Flat lozenge

216 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Serving and Worming Name

Wooldings Bowsprit Main/Fore/Bowsprit Gammoning

Shrouds

Stays

Mainstay Collar Twist

At Deadeyes

At Masthead

To Futtocks

Tackle Pendants

Eye

Collar

Worming

Prins Willem

N.v.

Pieter en Paul

No / No / N.v.

–

N.v.

–

–/0/0

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

N.v.

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v.

–

Neither on top

Unidentified, Meereskunde

No / No / No

N.v.

–

N.v.

Neither on top

Unidentified, Rietschoof

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

–

Neither on top

Valkenisse

6/6/1

Yes

Starboard on top

Bataviase Eeuw

6/6/3

Yes

N.v.

Gertruda

4 / N.v. / 3

N.v.

Oostrust

3 / 3 / No

Yes

N.v.

Yes

Starboard on top

Padmos/Blydorp

No / No / No

N.v.

Starboard on top

Zeven Provincien

4/4/4

N.v.

Jonge Jacob

6 / 4 / N.v.

Yes

N.v.

Starboard on top

den Ary

Yes / 8 / Yes

Yes

Neither on top

Unidentified, NSM

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

No / No / No

No; all lower shrouds are wormed

N.v.

Yes

Starboard on top

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

–/–/–

–

Mercurius

6/5/1

N.v.

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

Yes, but not clear

N.v.

Bleiswijk

No / No / No

No; all lower shrouds are wormed

Yes

Starboard on top

de Barbersteyn

No / No / No

N.v.

Yes

N.v.

Starboard on top

5 / 5 / No

N.v.

Yes

Starboard on top

Yes on fore and main, but not clear

Yes

None

De Swarte Leeuw

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

APPENDIXES É 217

Appendix 5, continued. Head

Thimbles in Model Rigging

Arced Leech Line Lower Mast Pins Fairlead Blocks on Double-Clamps on Main & Fore Mizzen/Main/Fore Bowsprit / Lower Yards Holes

Ratlines “All” indicates all shrouds in a set are rattled Stay Tackles Mizzen

Main

Fore

Sprit

Lower/Top/Tpgt

Top

Knot Work

Prins Willem

N.v.

Yes / N.v.

All / No

All / All / No

All

N.v.

–

Pieter en Paul

–

N.v. / N.v.

All / Yes / N.v.

N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw

–

N.v.

–/–

–/–/–

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

–/–

–/–/–

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v.

–

N.v.

All / N.v.

All / All / N.v.

N.v.

–

Unidentified, Meereskunde

N.v.

No / N.v. / N.v.

All / No

All -1 / All / No

N.v.

–

Unidentified, Rietschoof

–

N.v. / –

N.v. / – / –

–

N.v.

–

Some in standing rigging

Cheek blocks

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes / 8 new by RN

All / All

All / All / All

All

Clove hitched Port and Starboard throughout

Bataviase Eeuw

N.v.

No / No / No

Yes / 8

All / All

All / All / All

All

Clove hitched Port and Starboard throughout

Gertruda

–

N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

Yes / 6

All / All / No

All / All / All

All / -1 / All

N.v.

Oostrust

Some

Single blocks under yards

No / No / No

Yes / 7

All / All

All / All / All

All

Clove hitched Port and Starboard throughout

All

Similar on all shrouds

Valkenisse

All / All / All All / All / All Appears that main Appears that main & fore topgallant & fore topgallant shrouds are rattled shrouds are rattled in Koester image, in Koester image, but not currently but not currently

N.v.

–

Padmos/Blydorp

Some

N.v.

N.v. / Yes / Yes

All / All

Zeven Provincien

N.v.

Unclear

No / No / No

No / –

All / All

All / All / All

All

Clove hitched Port and Starboard throughout

Jonge Jacob

N.v.

No / Yes / Yes

Yes / N.v.

All / All

All / All / No

All

Clove hitched Port and Starboard throughout

den Ary

Some

Cheek blocks

No / Yes / Yes

Yes / 6

All / All

All / All / No

–

Clove hitched Port and Starboard throughout

Unidentified, NSM

N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v.

N.v.

All -1 / All

All -1 / All / No

All -1 / N.v. / No

N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Some

Cheek blocks

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes / 6

All / All

All / All / No

–

Mercurius

Some

N.v. / No / No

Yes / N.v.

All / All / All

All / All / No

All / N.v. / No

–

N.v.

–

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

N.v.

N.v. / N.v. / N.v. Yes / N.v.

All / All

All / All / All

–

N.v.

Port and Starboard

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Bleiswijk

Yes

Cheek blocks

No / Yes / Yes

Yes / 8

N.v.

Port and Starboard

N.v.

Clove hitched Port and Starboard throughout

All / All

All / All / All All / All / All Main & fore top- Main & fore topgallant shrouds gallant shrouds rattled to height of rattled to height of top of yard in top of yard in stowed position stowed position

All

All / All / All All / All / All Main & fore top- Main & fore topgallant shrouds gallant shrouds rattled to height of rattled to height of top of yard in top of yard in stowed position stowed position

–

N.v.

Port and Starboard

Half hitched at forward shroud, all Port and Starboard others clove hitched

de Barbersteyn

Yes

Cheek blocks

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes / N.v.

All / All

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Some

N.v.

Yes / Yes / Yes

Yes / 6

All / All

All / All / No

All

Clove hitched throughout

–

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

N.v.

Yes

N.v. / No / No

Yes / 6

All / All

All / All / No

–

Clove hitched throughout

–

218 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Backstays at Hull Name

Fore Topmast Stay

Deadeyes in Sprit Topmast Main & Fore Topgallant Topgallant Backstay Shroud Lower Deadeyes Shrouds

Ramshead

Topmast

Topgallant Mast

Prins Willem

N.v.

None

Shape not clear

Pieter en Paul

N.v.

–

Yes

N.v.

–

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v.

Yes

N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

Deadeyes and lanyards at channels

See sketch

Yes

N.v.

Regular block

Unidentified, Rietschoof

–

Valkenisse

Long tackles

Like Bataviase Eeuw

Like Bataviase Eeuw, Jonge Jacob, and Oostrust

Yes

Strops and hooks, doubled futtocks

As in Dik

Bataviase Eeuw

Long tackles

Main and fore the same, single at rail, fiddle on stay

See sketch

Yes

Deadeyes seized into futtock shrouds

As shown in Hoving, no cancavity

Gertruda

Main, fore, and mizzen like Bataviase Eeuw

N.v.

Not clear

Yes

Oostrust

Main and fore, long tackles (after main one with pendant); mizzen, deadeyes and lanyards

Same as Bataviase Eeuw

Just like Bataviase Eeuw

Yes

Padmos/Blydorp

Main and fore like Bataviase Eeuw; mizzen similar, but not clear at railcap

Same as Bataviase Eeuw

Just like Bataviase Eeuw

Yes, but not clear in any image

Yes

N.v.

As in Dik

Zeven Provincien

Main and fore the same, All long tackles with 2 fiddle eye on stay lashed to eye blocks on rail

Just like Bataviase Eeuw, but with eyes on bowsprit and knee

Yes

Same as Bataviase Eeuw

Not clear

Jonge Jacob

Fore and main like Bataviase Main and fore the same, Eeuw main luff tackles

Just like Bataviase Eeuw

Yes

Same as Oostrust

Not clear

den Ary

Fore to deadeyes and lanyards at channels; main, for- Main unclear; fore leads ward to deadeyes and lan- through cheek block inboard then to cavel yards, after to long tackles with 2 fiddle blocks

No sprit topmast

–

None

As in Dik

Unidentified, NSM

Tackles at side at channelheight, not clear

Main and fore the same, luff tackles

N.v.

–

None

N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Main and fore, paired, all on long tackles, after of each pair on pendant; mizzen, gun tackle

Main, luff tackle at channel; fore, luff tackle stands at upper block for after topmast backstay, leads to deck

No sprit topmast

–

Yes

Plates like lower futtocks

Flask-like

–

Mercurius

Long tackles on all

Long tackles, two fiddles

No sprit topmast

–

N.v.

Not clear

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

Long tackles on all

Same as Bataviase Eeuw

No sprit topmast

–

N.v.

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

N.v.

Bottom bulbous; Strops and hooks, doutop as in HOLLANDIA bled futtocks Compendium

Bleiswijk

Main and fore like d’ Gerechtigheid; mizzen, gun tackle

Main, simple whip; fore unclear

Like Zeven Provincien

Yes

Same as d' Gerechtigheid

Like den Ary

de Barbersteyn

Main and fore like d’ Gerechtigheid; mizzen, gun tackle

Main and fore the same, luff tackles

No sprit topmast

–

Yes

Same as d' Gerechtigheid

Bulbous

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

All to deadeyes and lanyards

Same as Bataviase Eeuw

Similar to Bataviase Eeuw

Yes

Topgallant shrouds pass through crosstrees, become futtock shrouds, set up to futtock stave

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Main and fore to long tackMain and fore the same, les; mizzen, to deadeyes and luff tackles lanyards

Like Bataviase Eeuw

–

Yes

Deadeyes seized into futtock shrouds

Like den Ary

Jeers

APPENDIXES É 219

Appendix 5, continued. Name

Main and Fore Lower Yard Lift Pendants Topsail Reef Tackles

Yard Rings

Footropes

Prins Willem

N.v.

Yes, all sail-bearing yards, arrangements not clear

Not rigged

N.v.

Pieter en Paul

–

N.v.

Under top

–

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

N.v.

Under top

N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

None

Yes, all yards; fore and main lower and topsail yards have 2 stirrups per side

Not clear

Pendant hitched to masthead below cap

Not rigged

Unidentified, Rietschoof

–

Yes

Eye on side of cap

Through holes in knee-of-the-head; starboard tack is inboard; leads inside headrails to beakhead

Valkenisse

Yes; fore and main Yes, fore and main lower yards to deadlower yards only; 2 eye and lanyard, topsail and sprit yard rings per staple to parrals

Fore Tacks

Bataviase Eeuw

N.v.

Yes, all yards except cross-jack

Yes

Eye on side of cap

Blocks on either side of knee-of-the-head, leads go inboard on same side

Gertruda

N.v.

Yes, all yards; knotted on topsail and topgallant yards; lower yards N.v.

N.v.

Side of cap

N.v.

Oostrust

None

Yes, but only fore and main lower yards

Yes

Padmos/Blydorp

N.v.

Yes; unknotted on topsail yards and rigged to parrals; none on topgallant yards; lower yards N.v.

Yes

Eye on side of cap

Through holes in knee-of-the-head; starboard tack is inboard; leads inside headrails to beakhead

Zeven Provincien

None

Yes, fore and main lower yards have 1 stirrup per side

Yes

To cap, attachment not clear

Like Oostrust

Jonge Jacob

None

Eye in masthead above shrouds

Like Oostrust

den Ary

None

Yes, main lower knotted with 1 stirrup per side, thimbles at inboard ends lashed together under yard, vertical span between lashing and yard; seized to topsail yard at slings; topgallant yards N.v.

Yes

Through holes in knee-of-the-head; starboard tack Pendant hitched around is inboard; leads outside headrails to beakhead masthead above shrouds kruishout

Unidentified, NSM

N.v.

Yes, main lower; all others N.v.

Yes

From cap, but not clear

Yes

Eye on side of cap

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Yes; fore and main Yes, all yards except cross-jack, knotted lower yards only; 2 on topsail and topgallant yards, all lead rings per staple toward parrals; lowers N.v.

Pendant hitched around Through holes in knee-of-the-head; starboard tack masthead above shrouds is inboard; leads inside headrails to beakhead

N.v.

In disrepair, not clear

–

Mercurius

None

N.v.

Yes, mizzen also

At side of cap

To pendant block at stem; returns on same side

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

N.v.

All to cap

To tackle on side of stem; return on same side

Bleiswijk

Yes; fore and main Yes, knotted on topsail and topgallant lower yards only; 2 yards; Flemish horses on topsail yards; rings per staple lowers N.v.

Yes

de Barbersteyn

Yes; fore and main Yes, knotted under fore and main toplower yards only sails and topgallant yards; other N.v.

Yes

Eye in side of cap

Tacks are doubled with single blocks at tack and stem; lead inside headrails to beakhead

Yes, lower with 2 or 3 stirrups per side; no on topsail and topgallant yards

Lead is under top

Like Oostrust

Yes

Eye in side of cap

Through holes in knee-of-the-head; starboard tack is inboard; leads inside headrails to beakhead

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

None

Yes; 2 rings per staple on lower yards; 1 ring per staple on topsail Yes, on all yards including cross-jack; all yards; none on lead to slings cross-jack, mizzen topsail, or any topgallant yards

Hooked to eye in side of To blocks on side of stem; return on same side cap

220 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Mizzen Yard Name

Sprit Yard

Sheet

Yard Hoist

Cleat on Yard

Prins Willem

N.v.

Not clear

N.v.

Pieter en Paul

–

N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

Crossjack Sling Halyard

Sling

Standing Lifts

Running Lifts

Yard Garnets

N.v.

Not rigged

N.v.

–

N.v.

–

Appears combined with standing lift

N.v.

Unidentified, van der Meulen

2 parts

N.v.

Unidentified, Meereskunde

N.v.

Not clear

N.v.

Not clear

Parral

Unidentified, Rietschoof

–

3 parts

Jeers abaft mast; upper triple block on masthead sling above rigging, lower double block doublestropped to yard

Bataviase Eeuw

3 parts

Jeers abaft mast; uppertriple block on masthead sling above rigging, lower double block doublestropped to yard

N.v.

Gertruda

N.v.

Jeers abaft mast, details no clear

N.v.

Oostrust

N.v.

Jeers abaft mast; upper triple block sling not clear; lower double block singlestropped to yard

N.v.

Single block on yard, otherwise N.v.

Valkenisse

Like Anderson, p. Single and Rope, like Anderson, Short pendants, 243, fig. 327 fiddle p. 212, fig. 277 deadeyes at yard

Combined with Yes, but not clear sprit topsail sheets –

–

Braces and garCombined with nets combined, sprit topsail sheets lead under fore top

Like Anderson, p. Single and 243, fig. 327 fiddle

Parral

Braces and garDeadeyes on penCombined with nets combined, dants from top of sprit topsail sheets lead under fore bowsprit top

Single and fiddle

Parral

Short pendants, deadeyes at yard

Like Bataviase Combined with Eeuw, lead under sprit topsail sheets fore top

Single and Combined with Braces and garDeadeye on short fiddle, Rope, like Anderson, sprit topsail nets combined, pendant hooked to cleat on p. 212, fig. 277 sheets; lead to lead under fore eye in bowsprit bowsprit gammoning block top Has both braces and garnets, arrangement is Yes, but not clear unclear except lead is under fore top

Padmos/Blydorp

3 parts

N.v.

Single block on yard, otherwise N.v.

Zeven Provincien

3 parts

Jeers abaft mast; blocks not clear, but lower is double-stropped to yard

N.v.

Long pendant from Like Anderson, p. Single and Rope, like Anderson, Combined with Separate garnets top of bowsprit, 243, fig. 327 fiddle p. 212, fig. 277 sprit topsail sheets and lifts deadeyes at yard

Jeers abaft mast, arrangeNot rigged ment not clear, double strop on yard

N.v.

Not rigged

Combines braces and garnets, but arrangement is simpler than on Bataviase Eeuw and Oostrust

Jonge Jacob

Not clear

N.v.

Short pendants, deadeyes at yard

Single and Rope, like Anderson, Short pendants, fiddle p. 212, fig. 277 deadeyes at yard

den Ary

4 parts

Jeers abaft mast, arrangement not clear

N.v.

None

Rope, like Anderson, p. 212, fig. 277

None

Luff tackle on long pendants

None

Unidentified, NSM

N.v.

None

Combines with sprit topsail sheets

None

Yes

Single block on yard, otherwise N.v.

Not clear

N.v.

None

Yes

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Not rigged because Jeers, but very unclear; campanparral jumbled on yard, jedek lifts not around mast off model –

–

Mercurius

2 parts

N.v.

Not clear

N.v.

None

Yes

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

3 parts

N.v.

Not clear

N.v.

None

N.v.

Yes

Single block on yard, line not clear

Sngle and fiddle

Jeers abaft mast, triple and double blocks

Long pendant from Sheets lead to Combined with stays and braces top of bowsprit, sprit topsail sheets to sides? deadeyes at yard

Bleiswijk

2 parts

de Barbersteyn

4 parts

Not clear

Yes

Single block on yard, otherwise N.v.

Single and fiddle

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

3 parts

Not clear

N.v.

No block on yard, slings appears to be all rope

N.v.

Rope, like Anderson, Short pendants, p. 212, fig. 277 deadeyes at yard

Rigged like course lift and topsail No sheet-clewline

N.v.

Rope, like Anderson, Short pendants, p. 212, fig. 277 deadeyes at yard

Combined with N.v. sprit topsail sheets

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Jeers abreast mast; upper Not rigged double block, single lower block, strops not clear

Parral

Short pendants, deadeyes at yard

Braces and garCombined with nets combined, sprit topsail sheets lead under fore top

APPENDIXES É 221

Appendix 5, continued. Sprit Yard, continued

Sprit Topsail Yard

Name Sheets

Clewlines

Halyard

Lifts

Braces

Clewlines

Prins Willem

Not rigged

Pieter en Paul

Not clear

2 parts, lead not clear

N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

N.v.

Eye in cap

Fast at forestay, through pendant block, to block on stay, then unclear

Not rigged

N.v.

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

Unidentified, Meereskunde

Unidentified, Rietschoof

To fore channel, no pendant

Fast at forestay, through Hitched to masthead below pendant block on yard, to cap, block on pendant block on stay, to block on above rigging bowsprit, to forecastle –

–

Not rigged

–

Valkenisse

No pendant; fast at head rail cap, through block toggeld to clew block, to fairlead at No. 3 fore shroud, through bulwark abaft topgallant backstay

Tye through mast; fall 2 parts; leads directly with fiddle and single to outboard pins in blocks on starboard range side of top

Fast at forestay, through yard 1 part; leads through Eye in side of cap; block pendant, through block on lubber hole without on pendant above rigging, forestay, through block on block and inboard to belays in top bowsprit, through arc fairbowsprit cleat lead to forecastle

Bataviase Eeuw

Medium pendant; fast at forward upper corner of No. 1 verdek gunport, inboard under rail above

2 parts; lead through blocks on bowsprit near stem, then to bakdek rail

Tye through mast, rest unclear

Eye in side of cap; block on pendant above rigging, down through top, turns aft with no block, through arc fairlead, to bakdek

Like Valkenisse

1 part; leads through lubber hole with no block and turns inboard

Gertruda

Medium pendant, leads not clear

N.v.

Eye in side of cap, block pendant above rigging, lead not clear

Like Valkenisse

N.v.

Oostrust

No pendant; fast at eye at forward, upper, inboard corner of head rail, leads through fairlead block on pendant at No. 3 fore shroud, then through bulwark inboard of fore topgallant backstay

2 parts; lead through next-lowest sheave in gammoning rack, to range near centerline

Padmos/Blydorp

Not clear

2 parts

Zeven Provincien

Similar to Bataviase Eeuw

Jonge Jacob

Same as Oostrust, except shroud fairlead is simple bight of line

Not clear

Not rigged

–

N.v.

2 parts

–

den Ary Unidentified, NSM d' Gerechtigheid (II) Unidentified, Rijksmuseum Mercurius De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

–

Not clear

N.v.

not clear

Like Valkenisse, but lead not clear

1 part; lead into top is not clear

N.v.

2 parts; lead through Eye in side of cap; pendant block at lowest dip of 3 parts; rigged on star- above rigging, belays at Like Valkenisse, but not headrail, then to No 1 sprit topmast shroud through crescent board side of top range chain

1 part; leads through lubber hole with no block and turns inboard

Eye in top of cap; pendant 3 parts; rigged on starnot clear, belays at No 1 board side of top sprit topmast shroud chain

Like Valkenisse

Not rigged

–

N.v.

–

N.v.

–

No lift rigged

Like Valkenisse, but not through arc fairlead

–

Single poart, direct to fore- 2 parts, leads not castle clear

Long pendants, lead to forecastle

Eye in side of cap; block 3 parts; rigged on starLike Valkenisse, but not on pendant above rigging, board side of top through crescent belays in top

2 parts; lead inboard along yard to quarter forward forecastle pin block, then through Tye through mast; fall with at side fiddle and single blocks gammoning rack, to cleat on stem immediately under bowsprit

Bleiswijk

Long pendant; fast abaft No. 1 fore shroud chain under channel, belays on

de Barbersteyn

Fast at cathead, to block, pendant not clear, lead to forecastle

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

No pendant; fast at rahout 2 parts; lead direct abaft head rails, belays outfrom yard to range ermost pin on range

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

No pendant, 2 parts to forecastle

N.v.

–

Tye through mast; fall with fiddle and single blocks

Eye in side of cap; pendant above rigging, rest of lead not clear

–

2 parts; leads like Bataviase Eeuw –

–

222 É APPENDIXES

Appendix 5, continued. Bowline Bridles Lowers/Topsails/Topgallants Main - Fore / Mizzen - Main - Fore / Main - Fore

Gammoning Rack

Heavy Mainmast Tackle

False Stays for Staysails

Prins Willem

N.v. - N.v. / 2 - N.v. - N.v. / Not rigged Fittings not clear

N.v.

Pieter en Paul

All N.v.

–

De Swarte Leeuw

–

Unidentified, Helsingør

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

Unclear througout

N.v.

No blocks

Unidentified, Meereskunde

Not rigged

–

No blocks

Unidentified, Rietschoof

–

Valkenisse

3-3/2-3-3/2-2 small blocks

Yes, 4 sheaves

4: fore topmast, main, main topmast, mizzen

Halayrd block on topsail yard, tack block on studdingsail boom

Bataviase Eeuw

N.v. - 2 / 3 - 3 - 3 / 2 - 2 thimbles

N.v.

4: fore topmast, main, main topmast, mizzen

Halyard block on topsail yard, tack block on boom, halyard block on lower yard

Gertruda

N.v. - 2 / 2 - 3 - 3 / N.v. - N.v. blocks

3: fore topmast, main, main topmast

No blocks

Oostrust

3 - 3 / 3 - 3 - 3 / 3 - N.v.-3 small blocks

Yes, on aft gammoning, at least 3 sheaves

N.v.

3: fore topmast, main, main topmast

No blocks

Padmos/Blydorp

N.v. - 2 / 2 - 3 - 3 / N.v. - 2

Yes, 2 sheaves

3: fore topmast, main, main topmast

Zeven Provincien

3-3/2-2-2/2-2 small blocks

Yes, about 4 sheaves

4: fore topmast, main, main topmast, mizzen topmast

No blocks evident

Jonge Jacob

3-3/3-3-3/3-3 small blocks

Yes, on aft gammoning, at least 3 sheaves

1: fore topmast

No blocks evident

No blocks

Name

den Ary

Not rigged

Studdingsail Gear

N.v.

Yes, on aft gammon- Yes, 3- and 2-sheave ing, about 4 sheaves blocks, long pendant

Unidentified, NSM

3-2/3-4-3/2-2 Model sets royals, but gear is not itemized here

N.v.

Fully rigged

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Not rigged

4: jib, main, main topmast. mizzen topmast

Halyard blocks on topsail yard, no other gear evident

–

N.v. - N.v. / 3 - N.v. - N.v. / 3 - 3 Model sets mizzen topgallant, but gear is not itemized here

3: fore topmast, main topgal- Halyard blocks on topsail lant, mizzen; others not clear yards

N.v.

4: fore, fore topmast, jib, main topmast

Not clear

N.v. - 2 / N.v. - N.v. - 2 / N.v. - 2 blocks

Yes, three sheaves

N.v.

3: jib, main, main topmast

Halyard blocks on fore topsail yard, no other gear evident

6: fore topmast, jib, main, main topmast, main topgallant mast, mizzen topmast

Tack blocks on studdingsail booms, no other gear evident

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Mercurius

De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia

Bleiswijk

de Barbersteyn

3-3/2-3-3/3-3 small blocks

Yes, sheaves not clear

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

3-3/3-3-3/3-3 thimbles

No blocks

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

2-2/2-2-2/2-2

Yes, not clear

1: main

Tack blocks on studdingsail boom, no other gear evident

APPENDIXES É 223

Appendix 5, continued. Outboard Accommodation Ladder in Waist

Cathead

Prins Willem

N.v.

No anchors

Pieter en Paul

N.v.

De Swarte Leeuw

Unidentified, Helsingør

Name

Lay of Hawse

Flags / Halyards

None

–

None / None

Angular crown

Two anchors port side, starboard N.v.; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel

–

Flags at all poles / Halyards to caps

N.v.

No anchors

None

–

N.v.

–

No anchors

None

–

Unidentified, van der Meulen

Various

Not clear

Two anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel

N.v.

Flags on all poles except mizzen / Halyards not clear

Unidentified, Meereskunde

N.v.

Round crown

Anchors on both sides, hawse to all; fore anchor reaches foreward, rests on headrails

Left

None / None

Unidentified, Rietschoof

N.v.

Not clear

No anchors

None

–

Valkenisse

Slot and hole, no sheave

Round crown

Two anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel

Right

None / Halyards at caps

No evidence

N.v.

No anchors

None

–

None / None

N.v.

Round crown

3 anchors to port; starboard N.v.; hawse N.v.

–

Flags on all poles / Halyards belay at caps

Shallow curve in 2 anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore chancrown nel; cables to all

Left

None / None

Bataviase Eeuw Gertruda

Yes; stanchion visible above the verdek hance

Oostrust

Yes; solid exterior ladder to Slot and hole, the top of the verdek hance no sheave

Anchor Style

Anchor Disposition

Padmos/Blydorp

Slot, otherwise not clear

Angular crown

2 anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel; hawse to all except after port side

Left

Flags on all poles except sprit / Halyards not clear

Zeven Provincien

No evidence

Slot, otherwise not clear

No anchors

None

–

None / None

Jonge Jacob

No evidence

Slot and hole, no sheave

Angular crown, 2 at starboard fore channel, both with hawse; like Royal Navy none catted; port N.v.

Right

Telltale at fore / Halyards on Fore, Main, Mizzen

den Ary

Yes, rope ladder; wire stanSlot and hole, chions, manropes with two no sheave colors

Round crown, flatter than Valkenisse, but more robust

2 anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel; hawse to catted only

Right

N.v. / N.v.

Unidentified, NSM

Yes; entry visible in weatherboards; ladder steps on topsides

N.v.

Like den Ary

One catted anchor on starboard side

N.v.

Streamer at main, flag at taffrail / Halyards N.v.

d' Gerechtigheid (II)

Yes, like den Ary, but with additional fixed steps

Slot and hole, no sheave

Almost angular 3 anchors each side; 2 at fore channel, 1 catcrown ted; hawse to catted only

Left

Flags at jackstaff, mizzen, and taffrail; telltales at main and fore / Halyards belay at caps

No evidence

Slot, otherwise N.v.

No anchors

–

Yes; metallic stanchions Slot, otherwise above ladder steps on topN.v. saides; no manropes

Round crown

1 anchor each side, catted with hawse

N.v.

None / None

Round crown

1 anchor port, hawse not clear; starboard N.v.

N.v.

Streamer at main, flag at taffrail / Halyards N.v.

Unidentified, Rijksmuseum

Mercurius

Yes; metallic stanchions De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia above the verdek hance; all else unclear

Not clear

None

Bleiswijk

Yes; fixed ladder with man- Slot, hole, and ropes at the verdek hance sheave

Angular crown

2 anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel; hawse to catted only

Left, wormed

Flags at jackstaff and mizzen; telltales at fore, main, and mizzen / No halyards

de Barbersteyn

Yes; fixed ladder steps abaft verdek hance; no manropes

Like Bleiswijk

Like den Ary

2 anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel; hawse to catted only

Left

None / None

No evidence

Multi-sheave, no slot

Round crown

2 anchors each side; 1 catted, 1 at fore channel; hawse to catted only

Right

Flags at jackstaff, fore, main, mizzen, and taffrail / Halyards belay at caps

Multi-sheave, no slot

Almost angular 2 anchors each side; hawse to both crown

Right

None / None

Unidentified, Zuiderzeemuseum

Unidentified, Prins Hendrik

Glossary No attempt was made to translate all the parts of a vessel into Dutch. However, many words stuck in my my mind and became part of my note keeping. They are listed here. No one should accept my Dutch as definitive. achtersteven – sternpost

kruishout – staghorn

bakdek – forecastle deck

modellenkamer – model studio

berghout, berghouten – wale or thick strake of side planking

overloopdek – lower full-length deck

bottelarij – officer’s pantry

rahout – main rail

campanjedek – poop deck

retourschip – class of VOC vessel

drukken – sculpted bracket under catheads

range – short transverse pinrail in head

pronk model – decorative model

duim – literally thumb, a portion of a voet

Resoluties – Resolutions, policies of the VOC

ezelshoofd – mast cap

rol – parrel truck

fokkeshoten – fore sheets

rust – channel

gilling – hance carving

schipperskamer – captain’s cabin

groote smijt – main tack

schoorsteen – galley smokehead

grote luik – main hatch

slede, sleden – parrel rib

halfdek – quarterdeck

slingerlijst – recurved timber on stern at height of the maindeck

hals klamp – ornate bulwark fairlead for the main tack

slooiknies – stout knees at the head of the stem

Heeren Zeventien – Seventeen Gentlemen, managing board of the VOC

spuigaten – scuppers

hekbalk – principal thwartship timber at the top of a square tuck

uitlegger – knee-of-the-head venster – window in the vertuining

hut – cabin

verdek – maindeck

kameel – device for lifting ships over shoals

vertuining – clinker planking above the main rail abaft the main mast

kamers – room klamp – top timber or rib on top platform

VOC – Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, Dutch East India Company

kavy-nagel, kavy-nagels – belaying pin

voet – a foot for measurement

kinnebaksblok – snatch block

voorsteven – stem

knecht – kinght, a post in the deck for running rigging

wantakel – side tackle weeflijnen – ratlines

koebrugge – orlop deck

zonnedek – fixed sun canopy over the quarterdeck on VOC vessels

kombuis – ship’s galley kraan – cathead

Sources Published Books and Articles (American Art Association), The Renowned Collection of Ship Models Formed by Clarkson A. Collins, Jr. of Greenwich, Connecticut; Rare XVIIth, XVIIIth, & XIXth Century Examples Together with an Unusual Collection of Maritime Books The Property of a Gentleman Residing in Antwerp Belgium to be Sold on Wednesday, December 8, 1926 at 8:15 (New York: American Art Association, 1926). Anderson, R.C., “Models of Dutch East Indiamen and Other Matters,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVI, (January 1930), pp. 88 et. seq. ———, “Models of Dutch East-Indiamen, 1716-1725,” The Mariner’s Mirror XVIII (1932), pp. 161 et. seq. ———, The Rigging of Ships in the Days of the Spritsail Topmast 1600-1720 (Centreville, Maryland: Cornell Maritime Press, 1982). ———, Seventeenth-Century Rigging a Handbook for Model-Makers (Hemel Hempstead: Model & Allied Publications Ltd., 1972). Anonymous, Code of Ethics and Guidance for Practice of The Canadian Association for Conservation of Cultural Property and of the Canadian Association of Professional Conservators, third edition (Ottawa: The Canadian Association for Conservation of Cultural Property, and The Canadian Association of Professional Conservators, 2000). ———, “A Flotilla of Mr. H.B. Culver’s Miniature Ships,” Vanity Fair (September 1924). Havemeyer Scrapbook. ———, “Exhibition of Ship Models and Ship Pictures,” The Mariner VII:4 (October 1933), pp. 127-131. ———, “Forty Ship Models Sold, French, English and American Works Bring Total of $12,675,” The New York Times (9 December 1926), p. 25. Havemeyer Scrapbook. ———, “How Skilful Tool Users Win Fortunes Building Models of Famous Old Ships for Millionaires,” Popular Science Monthly (January 1923), pp. 49-50. Havemeyer Scrapbook. ———, The Library Atlas of the World, Volume II – Foreign Countries (New York: Rand McNally & Company, 1912). ———, “Maritime Technology from the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam: Multimedia Catalogue of the Dutch Navy Model Collection, 1698-1889,” Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, 1995. ———, Het National Scheepvaart Museum (Antwerp: 1975). Museum guide booklet. ———, “———,” [New York] Sun and Herald (27 July 1920). Havemeyer Scrapbook. Ashley, Clifford W., The Ashley Book of Knots (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1944). Bellinger, Alexander, “Building the Addison Collection,” Nautical Research Journal 40:2 (June 1995), pp. 69, 70. Bruijn, J.R., Gaastra, F.S., and Schöffer, I., Dutch-Asiatic Shipping in the 17th and 18th Centuries, Volume I, Rks Geschiedkundige Publicatiën, Grote Serie 165 (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1987). Cady, Harrison, “Fleets that Never Sail,” unknown magazine, no date. Havemeyer Scrapbook. Cannenburg, W. Voorbeijtel, Platen-Album (Amsterdam: Cornelius Schuijtstraat, 1945).

228 É SOURCES Caulkins, H. James, “Where Do We Go from Here?” Nautical Research Journal 12:3 (1962), pp. 99-112. Chapelle, H.I., “Model Room Boston Museum of Fine Arts,” The Mariner V:3 (July 1931), pp. 69-70. Chapman, Fredrik Henrik, Architectura Navalis Mercatoria (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1968). Collins, Clarkson A., Jr., “Model of the E.I. Co’s “Mercurius,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX, p. 96. Crone, G.C.E., “The Model of the Hollandia,” The Mariner’s Mirror IV, p. 106. ———, “Model of the E.I. Co’s “Mercurious,” The Mariner’s Mirror IX, p. 154156. ———, “Naval Museums: Holland,” The Mariner’s Mirror IV, p. 232. ———, “A model of Henry Hudson’s Halve Maen,” The Mariner’s Mirror VIII, p. 265. Culver, Henry B., Contemporary Scale Models of Vessels of the Seventeenth Century (New York: Payson & Clarke Ltd., 1926). Davis, Ralph, English Merchant Shipping and Anglo-Dutch Rivalry in the Seventeenth Century (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, The National Maritime Museum, 1975). de Groot, Irene, and Vorstman, Robert, eds., Sailing Ships Prints by the Dutch Masters from the 16th to the 19th Century (New York: The Viking Press, 1980). de Groot, J.W.C., “Prins Willem, A Dutch East-India Company Ship,” Model Shipwright 89 (September 1994), pp. 40-51. De Kay, Charles, “The Lure of the Old-Time Ship, The New Hobby of Collecting Ship Models — Some Notable Examples of Model Construction, Ancient and Modern,” unknown magazine, no date. Havemeyer Scrapbook. de Vos, Alex, The National Maritime Museum Antwerp (no place: Musea Nostra, no date). Dessens, Henk, and Spits, Elisabeth, Schepen in het klein (Amsterdam: Nederlandsch Historisch Scheepvaart Museum and Stichting Nederlands Scheepvaart Museum, 1998). Dik, G.C., “De 7 Provinciën,” de Modelbouwer (1983-1986). ———, DE ZEVEN PROVINCIËN (Franken, the Netherlands: Uitgeverij Van Wijnen, 1993). Edwards, Hugh, Het wrak op Halve Maan’s Rif (Baarn: Uitgeverij Hollandia BV, 1988). Franklin, John, Navy Board Ship Models (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1989). Garrison, Lydia, “Ship Models, The Strength of the Sea, Its Homage in Homes,” House Beautiful (September 1924), pp. 214, 215, 262. Havemeyer Scrapbook. Garvey, Richard, To Build a Ship, the VOC replica DUYFKEN (Crawley, Western Australia: University of Western Australia Press, 2001). Gawronski, Jerzy, Kist, Bas, and Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, Odilia, HOLLANDIA Compendium (Amsterdam: Elsevier Science Publishers b.v., 1992). Greenhill, Basil, forward, The Art of the Van de Veldes (London: The National Maritime Museum, 1982). Hannan, W. Kelley, “Through-Deck Fittings,” Nautical Research Journal 43:3 (September 1998), p. 173. Harris, G.W., “Ship Modellers’ Art Revived,” unknown newspaper or magazine, no date. Havemeyer Scrapbook. Hoving, Albert, “The Fluit,” Nautical Research Journal 42:1 (March 1997), pp. 24-35.

SOURCES É 229 ———, “Heemskerck (1638),” Model Shipwright 86 (December 1993), pp. 18-29. ———, Nicolaes Witsens Scheeps-Bouw-Konst Open Gestelt (Franeker, Netherlands: Uitgeverij Van Wijnen, 1994). ———, and Emke, Cor, The Ships of Abel Tasman (Hilversum, The Netherlands: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2000). Jacobs, Els, Dutch East Indiaman ‘Amsterdam’ (Amsterdam: Netherlands Maritime Museum Amsterdam, 1992). Jacobs, Els M., In Pursuit of Pepper and Tea, The Story of the Dutch East India Company (Amsterdam: Netherlands Maritime Museum Amsterdam, 1991). (John Batholemew & Son Limited), The Times Atlas of the World, seventh comprehensive edition (Edinburgh: John Batholomew & Son Limited and Times Books Limited, 1988). Keyes, George S., Mirror of Empire, Dutch Marine Art of the Seventeenth Century (New York: Minneapolis Institute of Art with Cambridge University Press, 1990). Koester, August, Ship Models of the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries (New York: E. Weyhe, 1926). Landström, Björn, The Royal Warship WASA (Stockholm: Stenström Interpublishing, AB, 1988). Lavery, Brian, and Stephens, Simon, Ship Models, Their Purpose and Development from 1650 to the Present (London: Zwemmer, 1995). Lees, James, The Masting and Rigging of English Ships of War 1625-1860 (London: Conway Maritime Press, 1984). Lever, Darcy, The Young Sea Officer’s Sheet Anchor, etc. (New York: Edward W. Sweetman Co., 1963). Lipke, Paul, Spectre, Peter, and Fuller, Benjamin A.G., editors, Boats, A Manual; for Their Documentation (Nashville, Tennessee: American Association for State and Local History and Mystic, Connecticut: Museum Small Craft Association, 1993). Longridge, C. Nepean, The Anatomy of Nelson’s Ships (London: Percival Marshall & Company Ltd., 1961). Lounsbery, Elizabeth, “The Acquisitive Connoisseur,” unknown publication (no date). Havemeyer Scrapbook. Marsden, Peter, The Wreck of the AMSTERDAM (London: Hutchinson Publishing Group, 1985). M’Cormick, Wm. B., “Cruising with Ship Models,” International Studio (September 1922), pp. 486-494. Havemeyer Scrapbook. McCann, Captain E. Armitage, “More About Ship Models, Part II, Dockyard Models,” The Antiquarian (August 1926), pp. 41-144. Havemeyer Scrapbook. McDonald, Charles O., “Sailing Ship Technology: Some Bibliographical and Book Collecting Notes for Ship Modelers, Marine Artists, Historians and Others, Part I,” Nautical Research Journal 26:4 (December 1980), pp. 177-185. ———, ———, Part II, Nautical Research Journal 27:1 (March 1981), pp. 23-31. ———, ———, Part III, Nautical Research Journal 27:2 (June 1981), pp. 71-80. McLanathan, Richard B.K., Ship Models (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1957). Nance, R. Morton, Classic Sailing-Ship Models in Photographs (Mineola, New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2000). ———, Sailing-Ship Models a Selection from European and American Collections (London: Halton and Truscott Smith, Ltd., 1924). Napier, Rob, review of Gawronski, Kist, and Stokvis-van Boetzelaer, HOLLANDIA Compendium, Nautical Research Journal 38:4 (December 1993), pp. 264-265.

230 É SOURCES (Nederlandisch Historisch Scheepvaart Museum) Beschrijvende Catalogus der Scheepmodellen en Scheepsbouwkundige Teekeningen 1600-1900 (Amsterdam: 1943). Niemeyer, J.W., and de Groot, Irene, Four Centuries of Naval Art from the Rijksmuseum: Sailing Ships in Dutch Prints (Washington, DC: International Exhibitions Foundations, 1982). Paris, Amiral François Edmond, Souvenirs de marine (Paris: A. Bertrand 18821908). Petrejus, E.W., Modelling the Brig-of-War IRENE (Hengelo, Holland: N.V. Uitgeversmaatschappij “De Esch”, 1970). Robinson, M.S., Van de Velde Drawings, A Catalogue of Drawings in the National Maritime Museum made by the Elder and the Younger van de Velde, Volume I, The Greenwich Volume (Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press for Trustees of the National Maritime Museum, 1973). ———, Van de Velde Drawings, A Catalogue of Drawings in the National Maritime Museum made by the Elder and the Younger van de Velde, Volume II, The Ingraham Volume (Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press for Trustees of the National Maritime Museum, 1974). Stephens, John R., An Account of the Construction, and Embellishment of Old Time Ships (Toronto: privately published, 1949). Stevens, Harm, Dutch Enterprise and the VOC, 1602-1799 (Amsterdam: Stichting Rijksmuseum, 1998). Thornton, John, The Accomplish’d Ship-Wright and Mariner (London: 1706). van Yk, Cornelis, De Nederlansche Scheeps-Bouwer-Konst Open Gestelt, 1697 (Rotterdam: Firma Langerveld, no date). Waite, A.H., Catalogue of Ship Models Part 1 Ships of the Western Tradition to 1815 (Greenwich, London: National Maritime Museum, no date). Walker, Grant H., “An Introduction to the Henry Huddleston Rogers Collection of Ship Models,” Nautical Research Journal 44:1 (March 1999), pp. 3-14. ———, “The Rogers Collection: Collecting the Dockyard Models,” Nautical Research Journal 44:2 (June 1999), pp. 75-88. Wegner, Dana, “Museum Standards and Ship Models: The Influence of Professionalism,” Nautical Research Journal 39:1 (March 1994), pp. 46, 49. Wilson, Timothy, Flags at Sea (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1986). Winius, George D., and Vink, Marcus P.M., The Merchant-Warrior Pacified (Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 1991). Winter, Heinrich, Een Hollandse Tweedekker uit de jaren 1160/1670, etc. (Amsterdam: P.N. Van Kampen & Zoon N.V., no date). Witsen, Van Eyk, Allard, et. al., L’ Art de Batir les Vaisseaux, etc. (David Mortier, 1719), Omega facsimile reprint. Woods, Maria Pulsone, and Napier, Rob, “Ship Models at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston — A Fresh Look,” Nautical Research Journal 37:4 (December 1992).

Unpublished Items Bruzelius, Lars, comp., “A Bibliography of Books on Naval Architecrture, Rigging and Seamanship Printed 1600-1919,” unpublished manuscript, Upsala, 16 August 1992. ———, “A Catalogue of Contemporary Ship Models,” unpublished manuscript, 16 August 1992. Havemeyer, Henry O., Jr., Scrapbook of ship model and maritime ephemera, ear-

SOURCES É 231 liest date 1920. United States Naval Academy Museum, Annapolis, Maryland: USNA 2005-015. (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston) Object File for 32-183 in the Department of American Decorative Arts and Sculpture. Napier, Rob, Nautical Research Journal Inventory by Individual Issue, 16 September 1996. ———, Notes on the Ship Models at the Museum of Fine Arts Boston 7 May 1991 - 26 June 1992.

World Wide Web Sites http://batavia.UGent.be/b@taviaE.htm?http://batavia.rug.ac.be/archiefE.htm (visited 4 August 2003). http://www.bruzelius.info/Nautica/Nautica.html http://www.crwflags.com/ fotw/flags/nl-indco.html (visited 11 November 2005). http://pucky.uia.ac.be/~janssen/geneaology/nlplaatsen.phtml (visited 3 March 1999). List of Dutch towns, villages, and hamlets which included Valkenisse. http://www.tanap.net/content/archives/preservation.htm (visited 4 August 2003). Discussion of condition of VOC archives. http://www.vocsite.nl/schepen/scheepstypen.html (visited 4 August 2003). Complete review of VOC ships and their voyages.

Institutions and Businesses Advanced Photographics, Inc., Danvers, Massachusetts A.J. Hilgersom/Navigare, Amsterdam, The Netherlands Boekhandel J. de Slegte, Amsterdam, The Netherlands Professional Drafting Inc., Haverhill, Massachusetts Brown University Archives, Providence, Rhode Island Charrette Pro Graphics, Woburn, Massachusetts The Danish Maritime Museum, Elsinore, Denmark Fox Brothers Furniture, Newburyport, Massachusetts The John Hay Library, Brown Univeristy Library, Providence, Rhode Island Maritiem Museum Rotterdam, The Netherlands Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, The Netherlands Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Boston, Massachusetts National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands National Maritime Museum, Antwerpen, Belgium National Maritime Museum, London, England National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh, Scotland Pro Chemical and Dye, Inc., Somerset, Massachusetts Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The Netherlands Testor Corporation U.S. Naval Academy Museum, Annapolis, Maryland Mystic Seaport Museum, Mystic, Connecticut Zuiderzeemuseum, Enkhuizen, The Netherlands É

Index Entries for a vessel’s individual parts, for instance “Keel” or “Lower masts,” are for the model of Valkenisse.

Amsterdamse voet and duim. See Measuring systems Anchors, 189–91; anchor buoys, 191; stowage, 192–93 Anderson, R.C., 24, 25, 26; on contemporary models, 29, 32, 34, 35, 38, 40; on running rigging, 177, 181, 182, 183, 184, 187, 188; on shipboard systems, 73, 99, 151; on spars, 135, 138; on standing rigging, 141, 161, 163, 165, 166–68, 169–70, 173, 174, 175; on VOC model scale analysis, 45, 48, 51–52 Anglo-centrism, 10, 24, 137, 195 Bataviase Eeuw, contemporary model, 29, 83, 85, 87, 94, 167, 169, 173, 174, 183 Belaying pins, 152. See also Belaying points Belaying points: double rails, 95; forecastle, 109–10, 151, 180, 181, 184; mainmast, 151–52, 181; organization, 150–51; poop deck, 152; quarterdeck, 152; range, 75, 151; waist, 151. See also belaying pins; cleats and shroud cleats; double-clamps; kevels; knights; staghorns Belfry, 110–111, 151 Bleiswijk, contemporary model, 39, 80, 83, 86, 111, 137, 166, 168, 173, 181 Blydorp, contemporary model. See Padmos/Blydorp Billboards, 77 Bitts: fore sheet bitts, 101, 110, 151; main sheet bitts, 103, 119; riding bitts, 101, 119 Blocks: Fiddle or Double?, sidebar, 150; from Collins and earlier, 145; types, sizes, and making replacements, 145–50 Bowsprit, 123, 126, 127; sprit top, 126, 127; sprit topmast, 126, 127, 130, 136; top timbers, 131; trestletrees and crosstrees, 131. See also Standing rigging Breasthook, 101 British influence on model, 13, 59, 189; channels and lower shrouds, 50, 76, 126; gunports, 78, 82, 91; hull, 74–75, 89, 97, 103, 116, 117; rigging, 128, 163, 164, 166, 169, 173; spars, 124–25, 126, 127, 128–29, 131, 132, 138. See also Hands British hand. See Hands Bruzelius, Lars, 21, 30, 34, 35, 38, 52 Bulkheads, 65; beakhead, 87, 102; on lower deck, 119; on maindeck, 103, 104; on quarterdeck, 117–18 Bundle, 1–2, 3, 12, 56, 194; blocks and dead-

eyes in, 141, 146; parts in, 82, 83, 105, 110, 152, 189, 191; rigging in, 49–50, 154, 166, 172; spars and related parts in, 123, 125, 126, 129, 132–33 Cabins, 118 Cady, Harrison W., 14 Capstan, 103, 119 Catheads, 74, 89–90 Ceiling: hold, 121, 122; lower deck, 120; maindeck, 101, 102, 104; quarterdeck, 90, 91, 94, 92, 113 Channels, 49–50, 76–77, 141, 143, 163–64 Chapelle, Howard I., 1, 4, 28, 93 Cleaning, 58–60, 196 Cleats and shroud cleats, 151, 152–53 Closets, 104 Collins, Clarkson A., Jr., 1; acquires model, 13; correspondence log, 60; delays work on model, 16, 17, 117; influenced by den Ary, 35, 108, 110; influenced by Mercurius, 38; influenced by Padmos/Blydorp, 33, 144; researches model, 15, 28; sells model, 17–19; Ship Model Society membership, 14. See also Collins-era influence on model; Crone, correspondence with Collins Collins, Clarkson, A., IV, 16, 154 Collins-era hand. See Hands Collins-era influence on model: anchor ring, 191; ANNO carving, 99; beakhead bulkhead, 89; belaying pins, 152; belfry, 110–11; blocks, 145; capstan, 103; catheads, 89; channels, 76–77, 164; deadeyes and hardware, 141, 143–44; figurehead, 70; forecastle, 109, 110, 111, 172; gillings, 93; gratings, 116; gunports, lids, and frames, 78–79, 82–83, 91; head, 73, 74; hull planking, 75, 77; knight, 103; ladders, 103, 108–9, 116; lower mast tops, 125, 126, 128, 129; main braces turning block eyebolt, 179; maindeck, 102; paint, 73, 89, 91, 125; poop deck, 118; quarterdeck, 112, 126; rails and railings, 94–95, 96, 112–13, 116, 118, 179; ringbolts, 105; side tackles, 164; smokehead, 113–14; sprit top, topmast, and caps, 126–27, 131; staghorns, 106–8; steering gear, 98; stern decor, 98–99; sun deck, 117; vertuining, 90; windows and frames, 91–92. See also Hands Colors. See Finishes used on model Communications analysis, 60

234 É INDEX Conservation, xi–xii Construction, hull: frame-first, 74–75; skinfirst, 7, 23, 74–75, 78, 120 Contemporary models, 27–28, 194–195. See Bataviase Eeuw; Bleiswijk; de Barbersteyn; d’ Gerechtigheid; De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia; den Ary; Jonge Jacob; Mercurius; Oostrust; Padmos/Blydorp; Principe da Beira; Prins Wilhelm; Seven Provinces; Valkenisse. See also Unidentified contemporary models Coolidge, J. Templeman, 18, 19, 28, 72 Crone, Ernst, 15 Crone, Godfried Carol Edward: correspondence with Collins, 15, 16, 17, 33, 35, 38, 89, 127, 144, 127, 144; Mariner’s Mirror note and sketch, 15, 83, 89, 110, 177 Culver, Henry B., 16, 17; author, 26, 28; photograph of Valkenisse, 17, 75, 76, 82, 92, 98, 99, 143, 144 Danish Maritime Museum, Elsinore, 30 Deadeyes: from Collins and earlier, 141; making replacements, 141–42; strops and chainplates, 143–44 De Barbersteyn, contemporary model, 83, 173, 174 Deck beams: forecastle, 102, 180; lower deck, 122; maindeck, 118, 120; orlop, 121, 122; poop deck, 116; quarterdeck, 104 Deck clamps, 121 d’ Gerechtigheid, contemporary model, 37, 80, 83, 111, 114, 173, 174 De Jonkvrouw Catharina Cornelia, contemporary model, 38 den Ary, contemporary model, 35, 83, 85, 106, 110–11, 113–15, 117, 137, 143, 144, 149, 150, 169 Dik, G.C., 23, 137, 139, 151, 176, 187 Distortion to model. See Valkenisse, model, wrack and sag Double-clamps, 152 Drawings, 196; interior drawings, 64–65; measuring platen, 63; special tools, 64 Dust cover, 55–58 Dutch East India Company. See VOC Dutch language, 7, 21, 23–24, 106, 112, 125, 133, 135 Draft marks. See Scale, draft marks Endoscopy. See Photographs, endoscopy Ezelshoofd. See Spars, caps Fairbanks, Jonathan L.: about model, 70, 83, 84, 89, 92, 110; about project, 1, 2, 3, 4, 194, 196 Falino, Jeannine L., 1, 123 Farren, Sean, 61 Figurehead, 5, 13, 56, 69–71, 73, 151

Finishes used on model, 70–73, 79, 89, 117, 125, 139–40, 142–43; colors, 18, 53, 69, 72, 73, 75, 89, 90, 91, 94, 96, 97, 102, 104, 111, 112, 116, 117, 125, 126, 139–40, 143, 154, 163, 168, 189, 194 See also Rope dyeing Flagpoles, 131, 132, 133, 188 Flags, 8, 59, 188, 189, 132 Floquil Company, 73 Forecastle, 15, 17, 93, 94, 95, 104, 109–10 Foremast. See Lower masts Frame-first construction. See Construction Fraser, Alan, 16 Futtock plates, 144, 172, 175 Galley, 10, 12, 59, 62, 112, 120 Galley gap, 9–10 , 34, 77, 78 Gillings, 93–94, 95–96 Glues. See Materials used on model Gratings: maindeck, 103; quarterdeck, 115–16 Griffin, Charles, 61 Gunports: arrangement and geometry; 77, 118; gunport lids, 77–80; hinges, 79–81; maindeck gunport frames, 82–85; ringbolts, 81, 104–5; quarterdeck gunport frames, 90–91 Half Moon, ship model, 15 Hands (workmanship) of ship modelers, xi–xii, 67–68, 94, 195, 196 Harland, John, 177 Hatches, 122; lower deck, 119, 120; maindeck, 101, 102, 103; quarterdeck, 115 Hannan, W. Kelley, 115 Hanging knees, 65; under forecastle, 102; in hold, 122; under maindeck, 119, 120; under quarterdeck, 104 Head, 73–74 Heemskerck, 23 Heeren Zeventien, 5, 7, 22, 42, 43, 45, 47, 52 Hickey, Peter, 61 Hinges for gunport lids. See gunports, hinges Hipkiss, Edwin J., 45, 52 Hold, 120–22 Honourable (British) East India Company, 4 Hollandia, 22 Hoving, Albert (Ab), 19, 21, 49, 60, 74, 133, 135; author, 23, 24; on Dutch model building, 12, 84, 135–36, 137, 154, 185, 189; on Dutch shipbuilding, 10, 30, 45, 46–47, 91, 112, 113, 121, 138; on rigging, 49,149, 151, 165, 169, 174, 177, 182; on Rijksmuseum participation, 3, 4; on Valkenisse model, 51, 52, 67, 69, 74, 99, 115; on Witsen, 21–22 Institut für Meereskunde, Berlin, 35

INDEX É 235 Jonge Jacob, contemporary model, 34–35, 83, 86, 94, 111, 173, 174 Keel, 56, 57, 65, 66, 67, 74, 75, 121 Keelson, 120, 121 Kevels, 116, 152 Kist, Bas, 22, 45 Knights, 103, 110, 116, 119, 151, 152, 176 Koester, August, 26, 34, 35, 36, 38 Ladders, 101, 103, 108–9, 112, 116, 118, 122, 179 Larson, Eugene L., 32 Lees, James, 179, 183 Lemmers, Alan, 49, 154 Limber gap, 58, 59, 121, 152 Longridge, C. Nepean, 139, 155 Lower deck, 118–20 Lower masts: caps, 125–27, 130–32, 176; crosstrees, 124, 127–29; foremast, 123–25, 127, 129; futtock plate mortises, 129, 130; hounds, 124, 126, 128; mainmast, 121, 123–25, 127–29; mastheads, 124, 126, 130; mizzenmast, 126, 130; mizzentop, 130; tops, 124–27, 129, 130; top timbers, 125, 126, 129, 130; trestletrees, 124, 128–30; wood identification, 139; wooldings, 127. See also Standing rigging Maindeck, 101–4 Mainmast. See Lower masts Main rail. See Rails and railings Main tack fairleads, 85–88 Manrope stanchions, 101 Mariner’s Mirror, 15, 16, 17, 24, 28, 34, 38, 45, 110 Maritiem Museum Rotterdam, 33, 37, 38 Materials used on model: brass, 80, 104, 111, 115, 131, 139, 143, 144, 148, 164, 172, 188, 192; copper, 81, 137, 153, 190, 192; cotton, 170; glues, 71, 150; linen, 111, 154, 158, 170; pearls, artificial, 153; pins, brass, 81, 84, 85, 90–91, 128, 130, 131, 143; pins, steel, 137. See also Finishes used on model; Woods used on model McCleary, Joe, 16 McDonald, Charles O., 25 McLanathan, Richard B.K.: author, 1, 3, 26, 52, 98, 99, 123; curator at MFA, 1, 19 Measuring systems, 43, 44; See also Scale Mercurius, contemporary model, 15, 38 MFA. See Museum of Fine Arts Mizzenmast. See Lower masts Model makers. See Hands Montague, Meredith, 156 Morrison, Christopher, 61 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (MFA), 1, 3; “Age of Sail: Ship Models and Marine

Arts,” exhibition, 1; ship models at, 1, 2, 14, 18, 58, 64; transporting Valkenisse, 54, 193–94 Museums. See Danish Maritime Museum; Institut für Meereskunde; Maritiem Museum Rotterdam; National Maritime Museum, Antwerp; National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam; National Maritime Museum, London; National Museums of Scotland; Rijksmuseum; Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home; Tylers Museum; United States Naval Academy Museum; Zuiderzeemuseum Nance, R. Morton, 25 National Maritime Museum, Antwerp, 31–32, 34, 37 National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam, 35, 37 National Maritime Museum, London, 34 National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh, 29 Officers’ pantry, 10, 12, 59, 120 Orlop, 121–22 Oostendse Compagnie (Ostend East India Company), 35 Oostrust, contemporary model, 31–32, 80, 83, 86, 111, 149, 168, 169, 181, 185–186 Original modelwright influence on model: figurehead, 73; gillings, 93; grating, 116; gunports and frames, 78, 85; intentions and execution, 12, 49, 67, 78, 107, 109; ladders, 109; main tack fairleads, 85; planking on deck, 101; planking on hull, 75, 82; rails and railings, 106, 112; scale choice, 48, 49; scuppers, 77; signature search, 58; smokehead, 112; spars, 123, 124; steering gear, 98; stern decor, 98; sundeck, 117; VOC hand, 68; windows, 91. See also Hands Padmos/Blydorp, contemporary model, 33–34, 83, 86, 117, 143, 144, 181 Paints. See Finishes on model Paper dolls. See Scale, paper dolls Parrels, 153–154, 176–77, 182 Petrejus, E.W., 128, 166, 168, 169 Philip, James H., 62–63, 93, 108 Photographs: acquisition, 40; endoscopy, 62–63; of model, 60–61 Planking: decks, 15, 17, 101, 103, 106, 108, 112, 118, 120; hull, 19, 50, 57, 64, 66, 74–75, 78, 79, 81–82, 84, 90, 93, 96, 113. See also Vertuining Poop deck, 15, 17, 94, 117–18, 179 Pratt, Winthrop, Jr., 19 Principe da Beira, contemporary model, 40 Prins Wilhelm, contemporary model, 28 Pronk-model, 48, 49, 52

236 É INDEX Provenance of model. See Valkenisse, model Pumps, 103 Quarterdeck, 112–13 Quarter knees, 120 Rails and railings: double rails, 94–96; forecastle, 95, 107, 109, 110, 111, 184; head, 15, 73–74; main rail, 66–67, 75, 77, 82, 83, 89–90, 101, 173; poop deck, 96, 118, 179; quarterdeck, 90, 106, 112–13, 116. See also Belaying points Ramshead, 145, 149, 150, 176 Reconditioning of models, xi–xii, 196 Repairs, previous. See British influence on model; Collins-era influence on model; Original modelwright influence on model Restoration of models. See Reconditioning Retourschip: 5, 22–23, 26, 28, 30 , 49, 52; measurement, 45–47 Rietschoof, H., 27 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, 3, 28, 38 Ringbolts for gunports. See Gunports, ringbolts Rogers, Henry Huddleston, collection of models at US Naval Academy, 13 Rope dyeing, 156–58; Dyeing, sidebar, 157 Rope making, 154–56, 164, 191 Rope work, 158–60, 163, 166, 169, 177, 179, 184, 191, 193 Rozendaal, Roel H., 16, 19, 27, 30, 40 Running rigging: bowlines, 183–84; braces, 178–79; brace pendants, 179; crossjack and mizzen topsail braces, 183; crossjack yard sling, 183; flag halyards, 188; lower yard lifts, 177–78; lower yard tyes, 176; main and fore clewlines, 179; main and fore topsail reef tackles, 181; main and fore sheets, 179, 180; main and fore topsail yard lifts, 181; main and fore topsail yard tyes, 135, 180–81; tacks, 179; yard tackles, 179; mizzen bowlines (braces), 182; mizzen jeers, 181–82; mizzen lift, 182; mizzen vang, 182; spritsail clewlines and sheets, 185; spritsail yard braces and garnets, 185; spritsail yard fixed lifts, halyard, and truss, 184; sprit topsail rigging, 186; staysail halyards, 187 Sails, 189 Salt gap, 120 Scale: A Matter of Scale, sidebar, 55; calculations for Valkenisse, 47–49; conversion factors, 54; draft marks on Valkenisse, 51–52; paper dolls, 53; ratios or fractions, 44, 45; Shroud Problem for Valkenisse, 49–50 Scuppers, 77

Seven Provinces, contemporary model, 34, 169, 173, 174 Ship Model Society, 14 Siegel, Sid, 29 Simon van Gijn – Museum at Home, Dordrecht, 39 Skin-first construction. See Construction Smokehead, 103, 113–15 Source material: artwork, 27; books, 21–27; contemporary models, 27–40; individuals, 21. See also Contemporary models; Photographs Spars: development of replacements, 134–36, 138; discussion of those with model, 123–27, 139; making replacements, 139–40; repairs, 127–40. See also Lower masts; Topmasts; Topgallant masts; Yards; Bowsprit, Flagpoles Staghorns, 106–8, 109, 113, 151, 152 Standing rigging: bobstay, 163, 184; catharpins, 128, 165; crowsfoot, 170; false stays for staysails, 187; footropes, 137–38; futtocks, 165; gammoning, 163; lower mast stays, 168–69; lower mast shrouds, 124, 126–28, 164–65, 175; mouse, 169–70; organization of work, 161, 163; ratlines, 165–68; side tackles, 163–64; sprit topmast backstay, 175; sprit topmast shrouds, 174; stay tackles, 171–72; topgallant shrouds, 173–74; topmast backstays, 172–73; topmast shrouds, 172; topropes, 172 Steering gear: rudder and ironwork, 97, tiller and helm, 97–98, 116 Stern: ANNO carving, 99–100; decoration, 98; tuck, 96–97. See also Steering gear Storck, A., 53 Studdingsails, 188; booms, 133, 137, 138; irons, 132, 138–39. See also Yards Sun deck, 10, 16, 116–17, 152 Topgallant masts, 135 Topmasts, 132, 135; trestletrees and crosstrees, 135–36 Tylers Museum, Haarlem, 27 Underhill, Harold A., 139 Unidentified contemporary models: at Danish Maritime Museum, 30; at Institut für Meereskunde, 35, 166; at Maritiem Museum Rotterdam, 37, 86; at National Maritime Museum, Amsterdam, 37; at Zuiderzeemuseum, 30, 83, 173, 183, 186 United States Naval Academy Museum, Annapolis, 13 Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie (United Dutch East India Company). See VOC

INDEX É 237 Valkenisse, model: as teacher, 195; British ownership, 13; characterized, 1, 28; identified as vessel, 7; original builder, 12; provenance, 10–19, 154; purpose, 12; wrack and sag, 65–67 Valkenisse, project: development with MFA; 1–4, 47, 83, 98, 99, 189, 194; funding, 3–4; scope, xi, 195 Valkenisse, vessel: dimensions, 45–47; history, 7–9 Van Beylen, Jules, 4 Van de Velde, Jan, 53 Van der Loo, P., 38 Van Yk, Cornelis, 22; hulls, 45–47, 49, 52; measuring systems, 43, 44; rigging, 165; scale, 47–48; spars, 54, 133, 135, 138 Verenigde Ooostindische Compagnie. See VOC Vertuining, 90–95 VOC: logo, 4–5; structure and history, 4–7. See also VOC models VOC hand. See Hands VOC models: characteristics, 9, 10, 133; contemporary examples, 28–40. See also Contemporary models; Retourschip; Unidentified contemporary models

Walker, Grant, 13, 14, 17, 21 Ward, Gerald W.R. (Gerry), 70, 81, 83, 84, 85, 87, 89, 91, 110, 189, 194 Whipstaff. See Steering gear, tiller and helm Wiles, Irving R., 1, 13, 14, 18, 19 Willemsen, Andy, 85 Windows, 91–92 Winter, Heinrich, 26 Witsen, Nicolaes, 21, 46, 99 Woods, Maria Pulsone, 2, 52 Woods used on model: basswood, 99; cedar, 109, 139, 191; maple, 111, 128–129, 136, 190; oak, 76, 78, 89, 91, 95–96, 111, 113, 128, 129, 130, 131; pearwood, 142, 146, 152, 153, 190; pine, 71, 84, 87, 88, 90–91, 92, 93, 107, 115, 139 Wooldings. See Lower masts Workmanship. See Hands Yards, 132, 136; cleats, 132, 136–37; topgallant yards, 135; yardarms, 132; yard rings, 137. See also Studdingsails Zeehaen, 23 Zeven Provinciën, modern model, 23, 83, 137, 151 Zuiderzeemuseum, Enkhuizen, 30

Wales, 74–75