Instructional Models

The following are 3 examples of the teaching aids (as they would be nowadays called) used widely on Royal Navy training ships in the 19^th century. All the photos date from the period 1870 to 1910.

These models – which were anywhere from 6 feet to 18 feet in length – were the centrepieces of most rigging classes, and they certainly must have been far more effective as such than blackboards. Once the seaman- or officer-cadet had learned his theory to the satisfaction of the instructor (usually a bosun), following the lead of the rigging across the model (they were working models, with real – though miniature – blocks, they progressed to full-sized practice aloft. (A number of these training ships is shown below.)

Although such models were occasionally built from scratch, from the keel up, the majority used the hulls of old cutters, yawls or jolly boats which were no longer deemed seaworthy, and built up on the stripped-down decks a complete suit of masts, sails and deck furniture. Every single item of rigging was reproduced on the models.

Curiously, there is very little evidence of such converted ships’ boats being working (ie, which actually sailed), but then almost every training ship (generally 2- and 3-deckers were used) had its own tender, a brig, retired from the active list, which was constantly at sea, manned by a skeleton crew of professionals and as many cadets as they could use.

In the waist of HMS Impregnable, teaching seaman-cadets
(note the wheels)

Forward, on the upper deck of HMS Britannia (for officer cadets)

A clinker-built boat (yawl?) from HMS Howe

HMS Petrel and Marmorice Bay

Sometimes the enemy was not the French, but the sea and the weather. In 1801 an amphibious expedition was mounted to drive the French from Egypt once and for all. Arrangements were made with the Turks (then allies) to rendezvous at the Bay of Marmorice, on the coast of what was then called Asia Minor (Turkey).

The army of 14,000 men, convoyed by a large naval escort (nearly 200 ships altogether), depended on Turkish animals, small craft and equipment, which were supposed to be ready in Marmorice. When they did finally arrive the supplies were not ready, but that lay in the future; just reaching the anchorage was to be an adventure in itself.

The following is interesting for the wide differences between the two accounts, which describe the same events. There are 2 sources: part of a letter written by the Commander of HMS Petrel (or Peterel), Charles Inglis, who piloted the combined force into Marmorice, and an anecdote, written years later by Lt Parsons (a teenaged midshipman at the time), in which he describes the events from the point of view of a signal officer on the flagship, under Admiral Keith.

Comparing the two accounts, you could be forgiven for thinking they describe different events. That by Inglis understates his part: in fact, to read his version, you would think that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The Parsons version gives a much more vivid tale of the enormous risks involved. At the time of the rendezvous the fleet was being battered by one of the worst storms in memory for that part of the coast; most of the soldiers were on the transports and, had they not found Marmorice with Inglis’ help, many would certainly have foundered in the heavy seas. Survivors would have been few.

Inglis’ letter (to another officer, in the blockading squadron off Brest) was published by the Navy Records Society; his reference to that night is very brief, almost throwaway. The second extract, together with a picture of the Bay drawn on the day after they arrived (in the middle of the night in the storm) gives a much more graphic idea of how threatening the coast appeared to those on the ships in the storm. The high, dark mountains Parsons refers to can be seen in the background of the picture, and the artist (an unknown officer) obviously found them as frightening as did Parsons; the fort on the rocks that he mentions, and some of the ships, are also visible.

Note: Parsons is never very reliable in details like dates: although he gives the time as the end of January, the gale and entry to Marmorice actually took place on New Year’s Eve. ‘Armes en flute’ refers to a warship that has, in order to act as a transport, been stripped of all the guns on one or more decks; when armed thus (en flute) she is no longer rated, and may be commanded by a lieutenant.

Commander Charles Inglis’ Letter

January 18^th. You must know the Petrel had the post of honour in leading the fleet into this place. I fell in with them at sea, and offered to lead them into the Gulf of Macri, where I had been before with the Captain Pacha's fleet and Lord Keith ordered me to do so the next morning. During the night a gale of wind came on from the SE, so that we could not fetch. [ie, could not work to windward, away from the lee shore] My signal was made to come within hail, and my opinion asked if I could carry them into any other place. I offered to bring them in here, and my signal was made to lead.^, It was an arduous undertaking, considering circumstances - a gale of wind, hazy weather, a lee shore and dangerous coast. I fortunately pricked for the port within quarter of I mile, although during the day we hardly ever saw half a mile ahead.

The Gale

from: Lt G. Parsons: Nelsonian Reminiscences

In the latter end of the month of January, 1801, the day dawned with every indication of bad weather - the mass of dense and heavy clouds, piled upon each other, occupied all space to the south-west - ­the sun in his course looked with a fiery aspect - and the sea-fowl, with the wonderful instinct that puzzles the wise, from their fore­knowledge of the storm, came screaming in upon the land; the wind blew fiercely, and in fearful gusts - the labouring clouds seemed preparing to discharge their overloaded breasts, and distant thunder rolled along the horizon; the masses of clouds, as they sailed along the ocean, nearly shut out the light of day, and rose at opposite extremities into huge mountains of vapour.

They were illuminated by fitful flashes of lightning, and looked like giant batteries erected in the heavens. As they moved onwards from the south-west, they shot down vivid streams, which, at times, pierced the waters like quivering blades of fire; again the electric fluid took an horizontal direction through the skies, and its dazzling streak fluttered like a radiant streamer, until it lost itself among the clouds. Comparative darkness came on with a suddenness that I never before had observed, and the gusts of wind were terrific. During this elemental war, the British fleet under Vice-Admiral Lord Keith, and the army under Sir Ralph Abercrombie, closely crammed in men-of-war (armes en flute), and transports to the number of two hundred sail, were carrying a heavy press of canvas to claw off a lee-shore. That shore was Caramania, in Asia Minor, a most mountainous, well-wooded, black-looking coast.

We were in search of Marmorice harbour, the appointed rendezvous of the Egyptian expedition; and the Asiatic pilots, frightened at the dangerous position of the fleet in this tremendous weather, lost the little knowledge they had formerly possessed of this unfrequented and frowning coast, whose mountains towered high above the clouds, and on which no vestige of human life could be seen. Every glass, in the clearance between the squalls, was eagerly turned upon the precipitous shore, upon which the heavy waves beat with most horrific grandeur.

It was self-evident to the meanest capacity, that unless the harbour could be entered before night, the transports filled with British warriors would be wrecked on the lee-shore, with no chance of assistance. The men-of-war, by dint of carrying sail, might claw off; but the great majority of this fine army would, in a few hours, become food for the monsters of the deep, or the ferocious and ravenous tenants of the vast forests, that seemed interminable to our straining sight. As each withdrew his glass, with a disappointed look, the longitude of their countenances increased, and the round-faced, laughing midshipman lost his disposition for fun and frolic, and all at once became a reflecting, sedate personage.

The admiral, on whom all the responsibility rested, endeav­oured to assume the calmness of tone and manner that the honesty of his open nature would not brook; his agitiation was visible in the contortions of his venerable countenance, and the sudden starts of his nervous system. `Fire a gun, and hoist a signal of attention to the fleet,' said his lordship.

'They have all answered, my lord,' said the officer of the signal department.

`Now, Mr. Staines, be particular; ask if anyone is qualified to lead into Marmorice.'

As the negative flag flew at the masthead of the men-of-war, every countenance proportionally fell. At length, with heartfelt joy, I proclaimed that one of our sloops had hoisted her affirmative.

‘Who is she, youngster? Boy, do not keep me in suspense.'

'The Petrel, my lord.'

I saw an ejaculation of thankfulness rise warm from the heart to the lips of Lord Keith, as he piously raised his eyes and pressed his hand on his heart. `Signal for the fleet to bear up, make more sail, and follow the Petrel,' said Lord Keith. `Captain Inglis may be depended on.' And we shook out a reef, and set the main-top-gallant sail, which soon closed our leader in the Petrel.

As we approached this mountainous and novel land, the idea (and it was an astound­ing one) seemed to dwell on and occupy the most unreflecting mind, that should Captain Inglis be wrong, every ship, with twenty-five thousand men, would be the sacrifice of such error. Lord Keith ordered the signal of attention with the Petrel's pendants. `Captain Inglis, your responsibility is awful,' said the telegraph. `Are you perfectly certain of the entrance of Marmorice?'

`Perfectly sure,' said the answer; `and right ahead.'

`Signal officers on the foreyard, with their glasses,' said the admiral; and slinging our telescopes, we ascended. Indeed it was time; for now the roar of the waves, as they broke on the coast, throwing their spray on high, conveyed a dismal idea of our impending fate.

`A narrow entrance ahead!' called the signal-lieutenant Staines. `Do the midshipmen make out the same?'

`We all of us discern it, my lord,' shouted the whole at the very extent of our voices.

`God be praised for this great mercy!' ejaculated his lordship, uncovering and bowing his head with great devotion; and I do aver and believe that the grateful sentiment pervaded every heart in the Foudroyant.

The entrance of Marmorice now became distinctly visible to all on deck, from the contrast of the deep, still water to the creamy froth on the shore; and the signal for the convoy to crowd all sail for the port in view, and the men-of-war to haul their wind, until the merchantmen had entered the channel, was flying at the Foudroyant's masthead, as she shot into the gut of Marmorice.

The tremendous mountains overshadowed us, and seemed inclined, from their great height, to come thundering down upon us like the destructive avalanches in the mountains of Switzerland. We now entered the spacious and splendid harbour, circular in its form, and more than twenty miles in circumference. It created great astonish­ment from its vast magnitude, seeming capable of containing all the ships in the world, with its mountainous shore and immense forests.

In so small a nook as to be nearly invisible, stands on a rock a fort, and a few wretched houses, surrounded by a high wall, I conjecture for the purpose of keeping out the wild beasts, which seemed here lords of the ascendant. This fortification displayed the Crescent, and was saluted with eleven guns, as we took up anchor­age, closely followed by our numerous fleet. Scarcely had we moored, when the heavy masses of clouds that had rested on and capped the high land, now opened upon us in earnest, and the forked lightnings darted among the fleet with fatal effect. The gale increased to a perfect hurricane, and blew from all points of the compass; the flakes of ice, for they were too large to be called hail, came down with such prodigious force as to destroy man and beast; and whoever witnessed that storm could entertain no doubt of a special providence in the affairs of men. We were all safe moored..