Draken Harald Hårfagre

Havhingsten didn't get to keep its title of world's biggest Viking ship for very long. I just learned that the Norwegians have built an even bigger vessel; Draken Harald Hårfagre which is a good five meters longer indeed. Havhingsten was launched in 2004 and the new ship, whose name translates to Dragon Harald Fairhair (dragon refering to the ship type) was launched in 2012. Last year she undertook her first major voyage sailing to Liverpool and back, and this appears to have been a success.

Oddly the ship hasn't been given much attention in Denmark, that is to say I have not noticed it at all. Perhaps because it is bigger than our biggest Viking ship and thus steals the title of world's largest Viking ship? I don't know, but when looking at the online material from Norway, I can't but help noticing there is little mention at all of Havhingsten even though Carsten Hvid who captained the Danish ship also captained Draken Harald Hårfagre and he observed several crucual differences between the two vessels. Where as Havhingsten is a replica of an actual Viking war ship, Draken Harald Hårfagre is not. The Norwegian vessel is actually a modern design, based on Viking designs but also incorporating later Norwegian design elements. In other words, Draken Harald Hårfagre is an anachronism apparently built for the simple purpose of being big. 

Batavia 3D tour

U-20

There is a difference between looking at an old object and looking at an historical object. Especially if the object in question is associated with infamy. The first time I realised this, was in 1989 when I was standing inside the gas chamber at Auschwitz staring at a fake shower head. To say that I was touched with sadness would be an understatement. Auschwitz was indescribably dire and I shall never forget the sense of isolation it created within me.

Last week I caught an echo of that feeeing when I was at the St George Musuem and found myself standing in front of the conning tower of U-20, for U-20 was nothing less than the u-boat which sank the RMS Lusitania. See my previous post with regards to the museum.

The conning tower of U-20. The cycle beihnd it gives an indication of just how small the conning tower is.

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Standing next to the conning tower of U-20 was the 105mm deck gun from U-59. According to the infomation plaque, this gun had spent eighty eight years in the sea. It was in a remarkable condition considering.
A copper plate on the side of the gun reads Nr 823. Fried. Krupp. 
The last of these four images is from inside the U-20 conning tower and shows where the periscopes were.

Lusitania was an ocean liner belonging to the Cunard line, and she was launched in 1906. At the outbreak of the First World War she was commandeered by the British Admiralty to be used as an armed merchant ship. She was no good for this however so the Admiralty released her back to Cunard and she resumed her previous rolé as a trans-atlantic passenger ship. On 7 May 1914, as she returned from New York, she was torpedoed just 11 miles off the southern coast of Ireland. 1,198 innocent people were killed. It is said that this incident went a long way to convincing the citizenry of the USA to accept participation in the war, and as the poster image at the top of this post illustrates clearly, the authorities were not shy about using the tragedy to encourage men to sign up and fight.

Standing in front of the rusty old conning tower, on a sunny summers day in Denmark I caught an echo of that same feeling I'd had in Auschwitz so many years before. Here was an historical object, and an object of infamy to boot. I'd had no idea that the U-20 had beached itself at Vrist (where we'd been sleeping in a summer house) for there are no monuments out there and no wrecks to be seen, just the endless flat beach of west Jutland. Even if I'd known about the wreck, I didn't know the number of the u-boat which had sunk Lusitania. Reading the little descriptive plaque which stood in front of the conning tower then, I felt a cold surprise when I realised what I was looking at.

In a way it was a poignant feeling in more ways than one though. There was the empathic feeling for all those innocent people drowning in the cold, dark Atlantic, and a natural abhorence at what men will do to each other, and even to women and children. At the same time there was a weary resignation that when all is said and done, here was a rusty piece of historical flotsam, left to attest to the futility of all the conflict and suffering which we as a species must endure. I often feel the same way when I chance upon a sun bleached crab's carapace, lying on a beach. Once it was a creature that breathed and lived. Now it is just an empty reminder of our inevitable mortality. I am moved to suppose that our only salvation lies in the meaning we give to our lives as we live them, and there can't be much purpose in slaughtering innocent people. I am glad to be so fortunate to live in happier times! 

As for the innocent passengers of Lusitania, and the many other victims of u-boat warfare, and even those poor submariners themselves, so many of whom paid a terrible price for their loyalty to their country. If we have souls, may they all find peace, where ever they are now.
 

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Inside the museum was a scale model of a u-boat, done all in wood. Its worth adding to the post simply because it was so impressive.

24th. December. 1811.

 A model (roughly 1/72 scale) of  HMS St George losing her masts.

On the 23rd of December, 1811, two Royal Navy ships of the line, HMS St George (98 guns) and HMS Defence (74 guns) found themselves in rough seas off the western coast of Jutland. Both were returning from convoy duty in the Baltic, accompanied by a third ship HMS Cressy (74 guns). St George had already suffered in a previous storm on the 15th December and was under a jury rigged mast and with a temporary rudder. When the storm in the North Sea hit her, she was unable to avoid the lee shore and on Christmas Eve both St George and Defence were wrecked in the shoals north of Thorsminde where today the St George Museum commemorates the loss. 1,314 men, women and children drowned and it is said to have been the biggest loss of life to natural cause, in the history of the Royal Navy.

 The route of St George's last voyage. 

Mette and I went to see the museum several years ago, along with her brother and her parents but it was shut. Last week we went again, this time with my brother Peter and his wife Bettina, and so I finally got to see the exhibitions, which were very informative. Having read about Napoleonic warships, first via Patrick O'Brian's novels and then later from various factual books, I had a fairly good idea as to what kind of ships St George and Defence were, but as always there are any number of details which, though books can supply, are best understood from direct observation. An example of this were the 12 pounders which were central to the main display in the first room of the museum. When I turned to look at them, I naturally assumed from their size that they were the ships primary 32 pounder guns. As far as I am aware I have never actually seen a Napoleonic naval gun so I was quite taken aback when I understood they were actually the guns from the ship's upper most gun deck. With hindsight this made sense as the uppermost guns would have fallen from the ship as she turned over where as the 18 and 32 pounders would have been trapped within the hull.

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Left. 12 Pounder guns and carriages. 
Right. A carronade. I never understood just how incredibly small carronades could be until I saw this one. It was hardly 80cm long!

HMS St George was a second rate ship of the line. Second rate refers to the number of guns she carried and not her qualites as a sea going vessel. She carried 98 guns on three decks, with twenty eight 32 pounders on her gun deck (that is to say the lowest of the three gun decks), thirty 18 pounders on her middle gun deck and forty 12 ponders on her upper gun deck, forecastle and quarter deck. By the standards of the age (she was built in 1785) she was about as powerful as it was possible for a ship to become (first rates were very rare), and consequently she was the flag ship of Rear Admiral Robert Carthew Reynolds who was at the time, second in command to none other than Admiral James Saumarez.
St George had previously taken part in the Battle of Hyères Islands and the Battle of Copenhagen of 1801.

HMS Defence smaller but as a third rate 74 gun ship of the line, she was a powerful warship none the less. Her armament consisted of twenty eight 32 pounders on the gun deck and forty six 9 pounders on the upper gun deck, forecastle and quarterdeck. Built in 1763, Defence had seen a long and glorious career, participating in the Battle of Cape St Vincent, the Battle of Cuddalore, the Glorious First of June, the Battle of the Nile and the Battle of Trafalgar.

Only twenty one sailors survived the wreck of these two mighty ships. One was Joseph Page. In a booklet I bought at the museum he is quoted (I am paraphrasing slightly as I am translating from Danish); The Master gave the order to cut the masts but at that moment they were broken down by the storm. The sea washed over the ship and the people screamed. Cannons were ripped loose and cast about the deck, crushing men to death. It was a terrible sight. I saw the carpenter's wife with a little girl in hand. She tried to reach the quarterdeck but a terrible wave broke across the ship and washed her, and many others down the hatch and into the hold.  
 

Its not hard to imagine the fear and confusion that must have reigned on the stricken ships when you see the awesome power of the sea off the Jutland coast. The first day we arrived, the wind was up and sea was in a state of turmoil with some waves reaching four meters in height. It looked frightening enough and this was only a regular day. Personally I intensely dislike swimming in cold water, and the few times I have sailed out onto the sea, I have not enjoyed the experience at all. I can imagine how strong the sea must have been on that nght, and it is not a pleasant thought.The western coast of Jutland is a flat harsh place, famous as a dangerous lee shore. The museum also had exhibits devoted to other wrecks, including the infamous U Boat U-20 (I'll write a post about that later)

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Left: Some of the many bottles which were salvaged from the St George. Some were still intact and contained various alcoholic beverages which were long past their sell by date!
Right: I'm not sure if this is grape or cannister shot, but I think it is the former. The small wooden container to the lower left is half of a sabot, which was designed to come apart once the gun had been fired. Grape shot was used to clear enemy decks, in much the manner of a huge shot gun.


The first investigation of the wreck of the St George took place six days after she had run aground. A boat was sent out and the crew found the warship already partially submerged into the sea bed (the sands along Jutland are prone to excessive mobility). The quarter deck, along with the Captain's and Admiral's cabins was gone and part of the ship's waist had been destroyed. Very little was visible above the surface and only a few ropes and sails were salvaged.

There have been several dives on the wreck over the years. The first took place in 1876. Several small guns and a pair of bells were recovered. One of the bells was donated to a local church and the other is now at the Museum where it hangs along side one of the ship's anchors. The second dive took place in 1904, and on that occaision 48 guns were brought to the surface. They were found to be in good condition, but soon began to rust once they were in contact with the air. They were all sold to a French company and melted down. When the guns were brought to Thyborøn (a town to the north of the wreck site) one of the guns was found to have its tompion still in place. When this was removed (with a loud pop) some joker decided to examine the interior of the barrel using a match for illumination. Needless to say he lost his eyebrows and scorched his beard for the powder was still dry!

In the summer of 1940 (about the same time as Germany was invading Denmark) some Danes decided to dive on the wreck once again. At this point St George had lain in the turbulent North Sea for 129 years and yet when they dived, the Danes found the ship to be in relatively good condition. The lower eight meters of the ship was still submerged in the sand but the upper decks were clearly visible (though even good visibility in the sea off Jutland is usually under a meter) rising 1½ to 3 meters from the sea bed. The Danes used dynamite to excavate the ship and salvaged all the metal they could. Amongst their finds were several 12 pounders, two deck guns, a wealth of iron fittings and a lump of coins. Some of the ships timbers were also salvaged and these were given to a carpenter in Thyborøn who carved them into tobacco boxes.

The St George was finally visited by archeological minded people in the 1970's when the ship was found to be in a state of rapid deteriation. After some unforgiveable indecision by government beaurocrats, several dives were undertaken, recovering various anchors, guns and numerous other artefacts.

Peter and Freja standing in front of the St George's rudder. The diagram below shows a Spanish 98 gun ship of the line. 
If you consider the size of the rudder you get an impression of just how big  HMS St George was.

Some Danish ship modeller video's

Alas, these video's are in Danish, but the visuals are interesting regardless. The first model, Christianus Quintus, is the ship-of-the-line flag ship of Niels Juel. It was built, over a period of twelve years, for Køge musuem by the Køge Maritime activty centre.




The second ship is a famous Danish ship-of-the-line; Dannebrog. It was built over a period of three years by the Orlogs Museum's modelling guild for the Royal Danish Navy, to commemorate the navy's 500 years anniversary.

MV Liemba

According to Wikipedia the MV Liemba is a passenger and cargo ferry that runs along the eastern shore of Lake Tanganyika, and according to the BBC, she is in dire need of refurbishment. This is because the MV Liemba, was built in 1913, and was formerly the German warship Graf von Götzen.

Graf von Götzen's main armament was a 105mm gun

This remarkable ship was built in Germany then freighted to Africa in 5,000 crates and dragged over land to the lake where it served Germany's imperial interests in the first world war. The British did the same, only they dragged two gunboats to Lake Tanganyika, and the end result was the Germans scuttled Graf von Götzen in 1916. Some of the story behind the two British gun boats can be read here.

Graf von Götzen remained submerged until 1924 when a Royal Navy salvage team raised her and found she was still in excellent condition (thats German engineering for you). She was cleaned up and recommissioned as the Liemba and has been in service ever since. As far as I know, she is the only World War One era war ship still in use today. The people who own her are requesting from Germany. I think if I was Chancellor, I'd give them a new ship as a present.

MV Liemba as she is today

If I had the time and the space, I'd be tempted to make a card model of the vessel for a Rocketman campaign. She has those classic lines that inspire the pulp/noir genre, and she'd make a great platform for a gun fight game.

DEUTSCHLAND AT RAMSGATE - 1920 - British Pathe

DEUTSCHLAND AT RAMSGATE - 1920 - British Pathe

This is interesting footage. 'Deutschland' was the sistership of 'Bremen', which was the submarine I borrowed for RM5.

Both subs belonged to a curious type of submarine developed by Germany as clandestine merchant vessels (you can see how fat they were in the image above). They were designed to ship high value, exotic cargo's into Germany, circumventing the Royal Navy's blockade. Their limited cargo capacity however, and the fact that they just weren't that reliable meant they were later converted into 'U-cruisers'.

The Wine Dark Sea

By Patrick O'Brian

Presently it was no more than broken men, escaping below, screaming as they were hunted down and killed: and an awful silence fell, only the ships creaking together on the dying sea, and the flapping of empty sails.

Of all the series, this is my least favourite I think. Although it bucks the trend of the series by being fatter than the others, which get thinner and thinner as O'Brian aged, this book reads almost like a last gargantuan effort to wrap up a story that had grown into a monster. The first half the book is fair enough; still in the South Pacific Jack Aubrey continues along his way, chasing down a pirate and capturing a French political revolutionary, but then the story reaches South America and things get rather dull. Stephen wanders around the Andes, visiting yet more Catholic priests and assorted Irish men and eventually getting wounded as he has done so many times before.

It isn't that I dislike the character, but there is a certain uneasiness about Stephen Maturin. A sense that he is just too good, too much of an expert doctor, surgeon, naturalist, zoologist, ornithologist, code writer, linguist, swordsman, marksman and intelligence agent. That he is also uncommonly lucky in cards, has friends and family connections from the British Court, to the Baltic Sea to the Iberian peninsula and to Peru, that animals and children take to him easily, that great wealth simply falls into his lap... well its all just a bit too much at times.

The fact is, its Jack Aubrey who is the hero and Stephen Maturin is the side kick, and the books are most alive when both of them are together. O'Brian didn't seem to think this though, or maybe he didn't care or agree with it, because he often dumps Jack at sea and lets Stephen roam the land by himself. Sometimes this works, but in this particular book it drags.

The Thirteen Gun Salute

By Patrick O'Brian

In the first place it needs a proper yard, a dock, a slip; then, to take the example of a seventy-four, the hull alone needs the seasoned timber - the seasoned timber, mind - of some two thousand trees of about two tons apiece, with forty-seven ship-wrights working a twelvemonth. Even a frigate like ours calls for twenty-seven skilled hands to build her in a year.

Reinstated to the Navy List with his previous seniority, Jack Aubrey is sent on a mission to South America with Stephen Maturin but events conspire to over take their plans and they must change to HMS Diane instead and head for the far east and Malaysia where a treaty must be negotiated with the Sultan of Pulo Prabang (which I suspect is a fictional place). Naturally the French have a competing mission and who should be accompanying it but the traitors Wray and Ledward!

The story moves with the same implacable attention to detail as the rest of the series and enough happens over the course of the book to maintain interest. O'Brian enjoys Malaysia enough to convey a nice sense of mystery about the place, though I wouldn't vouch for his accuracy. Stephen takes the foreground as he conspires against the French and explores Pulo Prabang, whilst Jack is engaged in off stage naval duties.



The Nutmeg of Consolation

By Patrick O'Brian

Six balls hit the hull, masts or yards; one carried away half the larboard quarter-gallery; and the sixteenth came the length of the ship at chest height, killing two men on the forecastle and three on the quarterdeck: Miller, just next to Jack Aubrey, a hand at the wheel, and the master.

There is a dreamy quality to this stage in the long Aubrey Maturin series. O'Brian has long since left history behind and moves through an alternate reality where time has been so suspended that when a reference is finally made to a Napoleonic victory, it doesn't seem to belong in the narrative at all. He might as well have made a reference to the lunar landings.

The story however is every bit as enjoyable as the previous book, and carries on where that one left off, with Jack, Stephen and their companions stranded on an island. Things pick up quite fast when a desperate band of pirates arrives and soon the story is moving along at a nice pace. Unfortunately this nice pace eventually brings the novel to New South Wales which is as miserable a setting for a novel as it is possible to find.



Clarissa Oakes

By Patrick O'Brian

He had rarely been so tired, had rarely gone so very far down; yet he rose up clear and fresh, no muddiness, no staring about; he knew, as a sailor knows, that it was the end of the middle watch, and the tide was on the turn; he knew that there was some one in the room, and as he sat up a strong arm pressed him back , a warm, scented arm. He was not altogether surprised - perhaps his half-waking mind had caught the scent - nor at all displeased: his heart began to beat violently and he made room.

Finally leaving behind the dreariness of penal Australia, Jack and Stephen set off to assist a British dependency in the Pacific which is at threat from yet another French mission, but along the way, the ships mood begins to darken and Jack, still some what distracted by illness and a sombre mood is surprised to learn that one of his crew has smuggled a woman aboard. Soon they are married and the ship continues on its mission but the long journey soon demonstrates why it was once considered unlucky to have a woman aboard a ship (which it doesn't take a genius to figure out why).

The story ends with an up beat conclusion when Jack and his men liberate the island of Moahu, and an object lesson as to the awful power of case shot against a densly packed foe.

The Roads of Texel

Yesterday evening I came across a most amazing site whilst searching online for images or diagrams pertaining to Dutch galleons, specifically the Batavia. What I found instead was this; The 'Roads of Texel' is a 1/87 scale, four by eighteen metre diorama which can be found in at a maritime museum in the village of Jutters Oudenschild on Texel. The diarama shows a range of historical Dutch vessels from the golden era of Dutch maritime history (and also includes a visiting Danish frigate which I thought was a nice touch). As models go, this is the most impressive naval diarama I've ever come across and to think I'm wondering how to build just one model galleon! Unfortunately, I don't see any vlieboots or Dutch galleys amongst the models, but thats a minor detail. Its still fantastic and if we ever make our trip to Bataviawerf, it might be well worth stopping by to gaze upon this master piece!

The Reverse of the Medal

By Patrick O'Brian

Davis, with his four uglier brothers and a dumb Negro bosun's mate, went straight to them and in a thick voice, choking with fury, said 'Bugger off.'

Jack Aubrey's fortunes drop to their lowest ebb in this book, as treachery, misfortune and misplaced loyalties combine to reduce them. Returning from the far side of the world with a cheerful optimism, Jack is an easy target for the traitor Wray and his accomplices and as the story progresses so Jack's world is slowly pulled apart. Stephen fares little better, as his wife Diane has run off with their mutual Swedish friend Jagiello, but this book is more or less about the downfall of Lucky Jack Aubrey and though Stephen is often the primary character, as he rushes back and forth, his story takes a break.

Quite why it is about the downfall of Lucky Jack Aubrey is a curious question, except in as much as the down fall of a person is a story unto itself, but think I spy some perverse iconoclasm at work in O'Brian here. Given how often Stephen Maturin's luck out weighs those about him, including the so called 'Lucky Jack', I don't wonder if perhaps inside Partick O'Brian there was a curious struggle going on between his adopted Irish character and the English character he really was. It really doesn't matter because the story is still good, but for some reason, this book, and to some extent the next one, feel like O'Brian took a step outside his ever expanding fantasy world and dealt it a frightful blow.

I know he faced many troubles in his life, and I don't doubt that the Aubrey Maturin books were his escape from the mundane horrors of life, just as they have often proven to be mine. I know no better place to hide than aboard a fictious frigate on the high sea's with a crew of amiable ship mates and friends, fully loaded, stocked and armed to the teeth!





The Letter of Marque

By Patrick O'Brian

He could be heard muttering in the sleeping-cabin. - God-damned blunt needle - if he had a shilling for every button that fat arsed slut at Ashgrove had put on loose, he would be a rich man - no notion of seating a shank man-of-war fashion - and the twist was the wrong shade of green.

Having 'deconstructed' Jack Aubrey in the previous book, to the point of stripping away his very raison d'être, O'Brian now sets about rebuilding him, and doing so in such a fashion that demonstrates the underlying power of his both primary characters. Jack grows, leaner, tougher and his luck returns, whilst Stephen, now a rich man, sets about recovering his wife, and paying for his many years as a laudanum addict. The end product of this process is not just a good read, which it is, but also provides us with an insight into O'Brian's skill as a story teller in the Napoleonic period as he literally bends time past the breaking point to squeeze in an extra decade of life, and to do so in a manner which allows a man passing up the Post Captain's list to enjoy a great many adventures whilst avoiding any form of inconvenient promotion.

At this point in the saga, O'Brian has taken us from crystal clear realism, to pure escapism, and we don't care one jot! The story is just too good.

Jack and the Surprise, now a private war ship (a so called Letter of Marque) owned by Stephen are free to pursue their own goals, which is good both for Jack and and for us the readers. Jack gets to snatch up a string of prizes (to restore his fortune) and then in a dashing expedition against a French home base, to 'cut out' a rival French ship (and restore his sense of honour). Things go from good, to even better, but will it be enough to restore Jack to the navy list and will Stephen win back Diane?

The Far Side of the World

By Patrick O'Brian

"...Do you know, Maturin, as I set foot on that floating thing, that pahi, I saluted the woman confronting me, bowing and baring my head, and she instantly took advantage of it to strike me down."
"This is the far side of the world" said Stephen.

The far side of the world it is, and for Jack and Stephen, things have turned truly dramatic. Sent into the Southern Sea and beyond, in search of an American ship, HMS Surprise finds herself sailing from one strange turn of events to another, with many a strange and haunting interlude to spice this book to the point of the mysterious. Of all the books in the series thus far, this one is perhaps by far the most unusual with any number of references to adultery turning up along the way. So many in fact that its tempting to suppose O'Brian had his own private reasons for dwelling on the subject, though perhaps, in this way O'Brian demonstrates one of the more obscure sacrifices made by mariners, thus illustrating their humanity in a fashion beyond the powers of most story tellers.

This is the book which was adapted to cinema, with Russell Crowe starring as Jack Aubrey (and doing a fairly good job though missing the mark some what with regards to portraying Jack Aubrey's character) and Paul Bethany doing a truly miserable job of portraying Stephen Maturin. All these years since the film was released and Bethany still annoys me every time I watch the film. How on Earth they cast a tall refined, English accented man to play a short saturnine, Irish accented man I don't know. But never mind, at least the film isn't as bad as Peter Jackson's mockery of 'The Lord of the Rings'.

The book is a better story than the film, necessarily so as the book is crammed with so many events and references to previous books that it would have been an impossible task to faithfully film it, but one or two details do strike me as odd. In the film the Surprise is chasing a heavy French frigate named the Archeron, but in the book, the other ship is an American frigate named Norfolk. I've often wondered why this was changed and I suspect it was to avoid alienating the American audience by reminding them that their country was actually allied to Napoleon.

As usual, O'Brian fills his story with plenty of wit, and even after so many readings, I was once again helpless with laughter when I reached Mr Butcher's boasting of his skills with the trephine. As I have done before, I tried to convey the humour to Mette, but my laughter over came me as it did the last time I read this book and I fell about the kitchen hooting and holding my sides as the tears sprang from my eyes. Just writing this, is making my chuckle. God* bless the soul of Patrick O'Brian, or Richard Patrick Russ as his mother named him.



* Or whom ever else is responsible for this carnival of fate in which we blunder