Sailing ships

by E. Keble Chatterton

The history of the efforts to make these galleys speak to us from the depths of their watery grave is almost as interesting as their very existence. During the fifteenth century, owing to the fact that fishermen on the lake frequently in their nets drew ashore objects of wood and bronze, divers were sent below and discovered the undoubted existence of a ship of some sort. At last ropes were made fast and endeavours were made to draw the vessel to shallow water, but these efforts were only crowned with the unfortunate result of breaking off part of the stem. However, the nails were found to be of bronze, whilst in length some were as much as a cubit. The wood was discovered to be larch, and the vessel to be sheathed with lead, covering a stiff lining of woollen-cloth padding fastened on by bronze studs. It is important to note that the ancients in 37 A.D. had the good sense to realise what Sir Philip Howard, and other naval authorities in the time of Charles II., did not discover until the year 1682, that lead sheathing round a ship, used with iron nails, was bound to set up corrosion.[19]

Further operations on Lake Nemi were suspended until the year 1535, when an expert went below to the ship again. A large amount of her wood was brought to the surface, and was found to consist of pine and cypress, as well as the larch previously noticed. The pegs were of oak, and many bronze nails in perfect preservation were rescued from the deep. These, said the diver, fastened the plate of lead to the hull of the ship. There was also a lining of linen between the lead and the timber, whilst within the ship were pavements of tiles two feet square, and segments of red marble and enamel. He also makes reference to the rooms of this watery palace. As to her size, this was found to be about 450 feet long, and about 192 broad, whilst the height from keel to deck was about 51 feet.

Various attempts were made in 1827 by means of a diving bell, but no success resulted, and it was not until September of 1905 that a fresh search was made by divers, when both galleys were located at a depth of thirty feet of water. “By attaching long cords with corks to the galleys, the divers,” says Mr. Baddeley, “sketched out in outlines on the surface the shape of the vessels.” The length of the other vessel was found to be 90 feet by 26 feet beam. The decks were paved with elaborate mosaic work in porphyry, green serpentine and rosso antico, intermingled with richly-coloured enamel. The bulwarks were found to be cast in solid bronze and to have been once gilded, for traces of the latter were manifest. From the other vessel lying nearer in-shore, the divers brought up various beautiful sculptures. The outer edge of the vessel is covered with cloth smeared with pitch, and over this occur folds of thin sheet lead, doubled over and fastened down upon it with copper nails.

It is thought that these galleys were designed by their builder Caligula in imitation of those he used along the Campanian coast which, though sailing ships, were rather of the nature of floating villas. As to their purpose, it is probable that they were connected with the worship of Virbius and of Diana. There, then, at the bottom of Lake Nemi, these two galleys lie—still in existence, though owing to their long immersion and the depth of the water their ultimate recovery is extremely doubtful.

Among the many interesting items of marine information which we are enabled to gather from the voyages of St. Paul, we find[20] that the lead-line was in use, for we are told that “they sounded and found it twenty fathoms: and when they had gone a little further they sounded again and found it fifteen fathoms.” Also they “were in all in the ship two hundred threescore and sixteen souls,” so she was a vessel of considerable size. Then in the morning, having espied a snug little creek with a good shore for beaching, “when they had slipped their anchors they left them in the sea, at the same time loosing the rudder bands, hoisted up the artemon, and made towards the beach.” They had, no doubt long previously, learned the action which has saved many hundreds of ships, at all times of the world’s history, from foundering, by detaching the cable from the ship and not waiting to heave up the anchor. Moreover, they had found a nice beach under their lee, so the artemon or foresail was hoisted up the small foremast, and she would be able to make the beach without too much way on, and without the enormous amount of work that would have been necessary had the mainsail been set—a proceeding, considering the weather about, that they were not anxious to attempt. “Artemon” is the word used in the Greek of the New Testament: the translation of this as “mainsail” in the authorised version is of course quite wrong. The later ships were fitted with a mainsail and mast, but also a small foremast tilted at an angle of perhaps twenty-three degrees projected out from the bows, on which another small square sail was set. This was the artemon or foresail, and it would be in just such a manœuvre as this, or for giving the ship a sheer when getting up the cable or when coming into port even in fine weather, that this headsail would be found of the greatest use. We must not forget that this kind of foremast and foresail continued right till the beginning of the nineteenth century on all full-rigged ships, in the form of bowsprit and spritsail, until the triangular headsails with which we are so familiar nowadays came in. Finally, before we leave the voyages of St. Paul, we must not omit to notice the reference to the statement that after the anchors had been slipped they loosed the rudder bands. Instead of leaving the rudders to get foul of the stern cables when they had put out the four anchors, or to run the risk of being dashed to pieces by the waves, the ropes extending from the stern to the extremities of the steering oars would be hauled up so that the blades were quite clear of the water. It was a similar operation to a Thames barge hauling up her leeboards. Therefore, having cast off their anchors and being under way again, the rudder-ropes would necessarily be lowered. The same method of “rudder-bands” obtained among the Vikings. If the reader will turn to Fig. 29, of the Gogstad Viking ship, he will readily appreciate this point.

I am not going to enter here into any discussion as to the authorship of the Acts of the Apostles, but whoever he may have been had an accurate knowledge of the ships of his time, for we are able to see just the same kind of ship as St. Paul’s in a merchantman of about the year 50 A.D. and another of seventeen years later. The artemon mast and sail are well shown. It was, of course, the artemon mast that was the forerunner of the modern bowsprit. One can estimate the size of the mercantile ships of the Mediterranean of about the first and second centuries from Lucian, who refers to a merchantman engaged in the corn-carrying trade between Egypt and Italy. Her length was 180 feet, her breadth a little more than a quarter of her length, while her depth from upper deck to bottom of hold was 43½ feet. The registered tonnage of the largest trading ships was about 150.

Fig. 21. Roman Merchant Ships.

We have in Fig. 21 a very instructive illustration of two Roman merchant ships of about the year 200 A.D. This has been copied from a relief found near the mouth of the Tiber. The advance in shipbuilding since the times of the Egyptians has continued. The great high stern is still there, the bow remaining lower than the poop. The steering oar is very well shown, together with the “rudder bands” that we have just spoken of. They will be found to be two in number, coming down from the ship’s quarter, and passing through holes bored in the blade of the rudder. The tiller is of considerable length. The decoration under the stern with classical figures is very beautiful, while above is the familiar swan’s neck which accentuates the general duck-like lines of the ship. Three bollards aft and four forward, are seen for mooring purposes. The shape of the stem is worth noting for this must have been fairly common in big ships, and we shall find something very similar in the vessels of Northern Europe up to the fourteenth century. The rigging shows to what knowledge they had attained by now. The dead-eyes for setting up the shrouds, the purchase for getting the powerful forestay down tight, together with a similar arrangement on the artemon mast, are deserving of careful notice. The mainsail will be seen to be hoisted by two halyards, foot-ropes apparently being provided for the men sent up to furl it. I have noticed that in most of the old illustrations depicting men going aloft, the sailors usually ascend naked. This will be observed in the present illustration. The obvious conclusion is that they wished to be perfectly free and unfettered in their movements and to run no risk of their garments being caught in the rigging. The ships are moored to the quay by taking the stay of the artemon ashore. There is a different figurehead on the bows of each ship, while in the background, to the left of the middle of the picture, will be seen the warning beacon previously alluded to, the building below it with small windows being probably the leading lights for coming into the harbour. The sail has a triangular topsail in two pieces without a yard of its own. The yard of the mainsail appears now to be made in one piece instead of two, but the point where, owing to the binding together of the two pieces, the yard was thickest, is still so in the centre. The sheets and braces will be recognised at once, but we must say a word regarding the brails that were now employed. If the reader will examine the sail shown set in this illustration, he will find that the brails pass through rings on the fore-side of the canvas, then either through the top of the sail or just over it, between the yard and the edge of the sail itself, and so down to the stern. In the picture three of the brails are seen coming down so as to be within reach of the steersman. The action of brailing or reefing, then, must have been somewhat similar to the process of drawing up the domestic blinds that are familiar to us by the name of Venetian. The reader will no doubt have seen many drop-curtains in our theatres of to-day worked on the same principle as these brails worked the Roman sails.