Building a Miniature Navy Board Model

Introduction

Achildhood visit to the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich was my first introduction to the world of ship models, and it had a profound effect on me. The models that so imprinted themselves on my memory were the Navy Board models of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. I have such clear memories of the complexity of the exposed frames and the brass cannons peering through their ports, probably because of my child’s view, looking up at most of them, and having only occasional views of the decks when lifted up. So the model of Royal George , which forms the core of this book, marks for me something of coming full circle, of finally building a three decker, a project that was put on hold until my semi-retirement from professional modelmaking when I would have the time to devote to such an absorbing task. It is, however, probable that I would never have embarked on the building of miniature Navy Board models had it not been for the inspiration received from the books and work of Donald McNarry. His models in general had a huge influence on me but it was particularly his miniature Navy Board work that had the greatest impact and his support when building some of my early efforts was invaluable. The method I used for the framing on Royal George was pioneered by him, and this framing technique is described by him in various issues of the British journal Model Shipwright.

Navy Board Models

What are Navy Board models and what are their distinctive characteristics? At the simplest level, the archetypal examples are those part-planked, framed ship models of naval vessels, built approximately in the hundred years after 1650, which have their frames exposed below the wale and have, as their crowning glory, the most detailed and beautifully crafted decoration. Few were rigged. There is, however, much more to them than this, and though our knowledge of their purpose and their creators is hazy, there are significant characteristics that set them aside from other types of ship model and make them highly collectable and an attractive proposition for the modern ship modeller.

‘Navy Board’ is not the only term by which they are known. They are often described as ‘Dockyard’ or ‘Admiralty’ models and these different names give us some clues about them. Dockyard suggests their provenance and perhaps hints at their purpose, while the terms Navy Board and Admiralty allude to their recipients, for it is our understanding that many were commissioned by these boards. Today, Navy Board is the commonly used term and is the one we shall use throughout the book.

Though we can define them simply, we need also to be aware of how they differed, and of how they developed over the hundred years. Their scale is generally 1:48, a quarter inch to the foot, which is usually the same scale as was used for ships’ draughts and this has led some commentators to conclude that there is some link between the two, that they fulfilled the function of the ship plan; this seems unlikely, however. Some were not built to this scale, and the amount of detail, along with the repetition of component parts, would have been unwarranted for the needs of a shipwright. Furthermore, though the overall models were built to a scale, the framing was not, and is distinctly stylised. It does not ape the framing patterns of the prototypes but follows a simpler system. Though there were variations, the hull frame of a Navy Board model consists generally of three parts: the floor timber, futtock and top timber. It is conceivable that this pattern was not that different to the full-sized framing of early seventeenth-century vessels. By the beginning of the eighteenth century, however, ships had grown considerably and the greater size required heavier framing and scantlings and multiple floor timbers, futtocks and top timbers. This development is partly reflected in Navy Board models for certainly in the later models the framing is built, if not identically, then closer to the prototypes. The thickness of the frames and the adjacent spaces, however, known as the ‘timber and room’ and later as the ‘room and space’, were built to scale and reflected the dimensions that were specified for particular Rates.

This open framing adds so much to the beauty of the Navy Board model; light and shadow play across the frames while the delicate skeletal structure is subtly defined by light shining though the hull; in the dark recesses there is mysterious space. And all this, of course, is made possible by the absence of planking below the lower wale. Above this the hull was planked with either individual planks or a sheet of timber or veneer up to the upper wale. Decks are generally left only partially planked with strips of planking fitted along the centerline and at the sides. This was usually cut from a single strip of timber and was frequently scored to represent the individual planks. Grating is often fitted, and this further compounds the suspicion that the modellers were seeking to create an intricate, jewel-like beauty that had a meaning beyond the simple shape and structure of the ship.

The engraving of the Royal George (© National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London).

The quarter galleries of the unrigged model of Royal William (© National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London).

If we get a sense of this looking at the frames and planking, our breath is taken away by the details and decoration found on many. Gun port lids, often open and revealing cannon, are fitted with finely modelled hinges and surmounted with beautifully carved rigols. Capstans and stairways are shown, channels and deadeyes fitted, and rudders with braces of brass, fastened with tiny rivets, are hung on miniature gudgeons. Fibre optics and modern photographic techniques have revealed remarkable detail deep within the hull of some models, details that the original creator must have assumed would be hidden forever. And the crowning glory to all this is the carving: the carving of the stern and quarter galleries, the entry port and figurehead. Mythological figures mingle with the most finely carved and gilded decoration, which is beautifully set off by the richness of the natural wood. Paintwork is sparingly used on the insides of gun port lids and on wales, and on bulkheads and rails.

The rigged model of Royal William (© National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London).

What was the function of these rich and exquisite objects, these beautiful examples of miniature craftsmanship? We have discounted their usefulness as plans and so it seems unlikely that they were submitted as designs. Some models are later than the ships they represent and by the beginning of the eighteenth century, simple block models were being used for design purposes. So their purpose is really quite a mystery. One suggestion is that they were built at the same time as the prototype, in tandem with the full-scale version, to help visualise what the ship might look like, and the absence of planking certainly helps to understand the underwater shape of the ship more clearly. The fact that some models have gun ports which have been closed up and positions for masts which have been moved, suggests that changes were being made during the building of the full-size ship which were reflected in the models. The internal arrangements, so difficult to see in the finished model, may have been constructed to help in the layout down below and would, of course, have been clearly visible as the model was being built and discussed.

It is known that some were built as commissions and made in a private capacity for individuals; the Fourth Rate Centurion was made for Lord Anson in the 1740s. Pepys, in his diary, certainly covets a model and he built up a collection that, unlike his library, was at some stage dispersed. The pleasure of a thing in miniature is something that all ship modellers recognise; the admirals and administrators of the Navy three hundred years ago seemingly felt the same. These were simply beautiful records of what ships looked like; they were like a painting, but a three-dimensional portrayal.

Yet another theory is that they were a form of advertising and were presented as gifts to the Admiralty Board from dockyards soliciting work, their quality reflecting what the Board might expect in the full-size version.

Though we know little about the builders of all these models it is certain that they were built by shipwrights. Some may have been made by young apprentice shipwrights as part of the process of learning the art of shipbuilding. There may have been other skilled craftsmen involved; certainly the quality of some of the miniature metal work, sometimes rendered in silver, suggests that jewellers may have been employed. While there is some difference in the quality of the work, throughout the period the standard of craftsmanship was consistently high and sets a high bar for those of us aiming to emulate those skills in the twenty-first century.

Royal George

My choice of subject stems from a chance encounter with one of the unrigged models of the First Rate Royal William of 1719 in the National Maritime Museum. When visiting on some quite different business I was so taken with the model that I decided there and then that I would build a model of either her or one of the other ships in her class as soon as I could find the time. The Royal William was launched in 1719 but was never fitted for sea as a 100-gun ship but was cut down to a Second Rate in 1756. She was finally hulked in 1790. There are no plans available