Sovereign of the Seas, 1637: A Reconstruction of the Most Powerful Warship of Its Day

By John McKay

“McKay’s artful renderings provide a fitting tribute to this amazing vessel and those who participated in her planning and construction.” —Pirates and Privateers

Sovereign of the Seas was the most spectacular, extravagant and controversial warship of the early seventeenth century. The ultimate royal prestige project, whose armament was increased by the King’s decree to the unheard-of figure of 100 guns, the ship finally cost the equivalent of ten more conventional warships. A significant proportion of this total was spent on her gilded decoration, which gave the ship a unique combination of firepower and visual impact in battle that led her Dutch opponents to dub her the “Golden Devil.”

It is unsurprising that such a high-profile ship should be well-documented, but there are no contemporary plans and much of the visual evidence is contradictory. In this book, John McKay sets out to analyze the data and reconstruct the design and appearance of the ship in a degree of detail never previously attempted. The results are presented as a folio of superbly drafted plans, isometric drawings and colored renderings, covering every aspect of the design from the hull form to the minutiae of sails and rigging. Each section is accompanied by an explanatory text, setting out the rationale for his conclusions, so the book will be of value to historians of the period as well as providing superb reference for any modeler tackling of one of the most popular of all sailing ship subjects.

“A magnificent book on a magnificent ship.” —Nautical Research Journal

“Very few books of warships contain the level of detail provided here.” —Firetrench

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Feb 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781526766311

Book preview

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INTRODUCTION

It has been observed that in its time the sailing ship of war was the most complicated machine that had ever been built by human beings. I agree, and would add that they were also among the most beautiful. Art and science are working in conjunction here; the wooden hull was designed to move through water as readily as possible and sails were formed to harness the power of the wind as efficiently as possible. In both instances the forces of nature were addressed and as usual in such cases, when nature is respected, the result was sophisticated elegance.

The subject of this book, Sovereign of the Seas, for many reasons has always been popular. As outlined in the text she was a ship of many superlatives: she was the largest of her type at the time, the first to carry 100 guns, she set royal sails, she was gorgeous, and so on. Because she was the subject of the best of contemporary artists, we have been left with a good impression of what she looked like and I like to think that she visually appeals to most people for the same reasons that she appeals to me. Her hull form is remarkable and while this does not show up on early illustrations, it will be seen from the current drawings that she was slim. She was also well balanced in form with a high stern (a legacy of her Tudor predecessors), a low forecastle and a long beakhead whose bowsprit sported a top and sprit topmast. But, above all, the exuberant completeness of her decoration is almost overwhelming and I have dwelt on this in the drawings.

The ship’s political importance cannot be over-emphasised but this could only be touched on in the text. Happily however, near the end of my work, a pertinent article appeared in The Mariner’s Mirror (104:4, 2018, pp402-422) that deals with this subject in depth and I recommend it to the readers of this book. Written by Benjamin W D Redding, it is titled ‘A ship For Which Great Neptune Raves: The Sovereign of the Seas, la Couronne and seventeenth-century international competition over warship design’.

With my work the purpose was to recreate Sovereign of the Seas on paper using contemporary sources. When these sources failed, conventional practice of the day was followed as best it could be, and when nothing of this nature was available, later practice was followed. It will be seen that the artists’ original work and early specifications contradicted one another so choices had to be made and while doing so I have tried to use open-minded, pragmatic reasoning while avoiding dogma. I know that on some points my views will be disputed, there being many qualified experts in the field of historic ship design, but we must be philosophical and agree to disagree.

In the text I have not gone into great detail over some subjects (such as anchor- or sail-handling) but I have dealt with what is pertinent or idiosyncratic to our ship and have referred the reader to more comprehensive publications. Nor have I included elaborate footnotes, but instead have referenced my sources in the text, where detailed information can be found in the bibliography.

Traditionally, ship draughts did not display dimensions or if they did there were few. Instead, an elegant bar scale was almost invariably included on the drawing and this is a blessing because paper is subject to shrinking or expanding, very slightly, due to humidity. Bar scales are employed on the current drawings but I have broken with tradition a little here and have included drawings with the major dimensions of our vessel. For clarity’s sake keying on the drawings has been kept to a minimum.

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HISTORY

The Tudor navy, which had been powerful enough to take on the Spanish Armada, went into steep decline in the reign of Queen Elizabeth’s Stuart successor, the peace-loving James I. By the time his son Charles I was crowned in 1625, its state was deplorable and unacceptable to the new king. He realised the prestige of his nation was being lost and was determined to rebuild his navy to restore English maritime power. By February 1627 his thinking had evolved and he addressed the Twelve Judges of the Star Chamber, the heads of the English Judiciary: ‘Taking into our Princely consideration that the honour and saftie of Our realme of English was and is more nearly concerned than in late former tymes, We did resolve with Our Selves to have a royall navy provided, that with almighty god’s blessing might protect and defend this Our realm and subjects, from all hardships and dangers.’ He went on to pose the question: ‘Whether may not the King, under the great Seal of England, Command all Subjects at their charge to provide and furnish Shippes, for such tyme as he shall think Fitt?’ Then: ‘And whether in such cases is not the King the sole judge both of the danger, and when and how the same is to be avoided?’ The Judges replied: ‘May it please Yor most excellent Ma’tie, Wee are of opinion that the King hath all such rights as he has enumerated, under the Great seal.’

Charles now felt he had the legal authority to tax his nation to build warships and embarked on a programme of construction that was financed by the notorious ‘Ship Money’. This was not a new form of taxation (its origins were medieval) and traditionally it did not require Parliament’s approval, but it was only levied when the country was under threat of war and largely fell on coastal areas. The tax began in 1634 and was then extended to the whole country, producing wide resentment because it was a time of peace and because Parliament had not been consulted over what in effect had become general taxation. It was a contributory factor in the popular discontent that lead to the Civil War in which Charles lost his throne and ultimately his life.

The largest of the ships of the new programme – and arguably the greatest warship to date – was to be of 90 guns and was later to be named Sovereign of the Seas by Charles. He must have conceived of this vessel prior to 26 June 1634 because Phineas Pett wrote in his Autobiography for that day: ‘his Majesty came to Woolwich in his barge to see the frame of the Leopard (then half built); and being in the ship’s hold, his highness, calling me aside, privately acquainted me with his princely resolution for the building of a GREAT NEW SHIP, which he would have me to undertake, using these words to me: You have made many requests to me, and now I will make it my request to you to build this ship.’ The following August, Charles told his shipwrights of his plans for the ship and her proposed dimensions and, because of the ship’s size, the technical as well as political opposition to the project became as legendary as the ship herself.

Perhaps the best-known resistance to building our ship came from the Masters of Trinity House, a charity whose first concern was to safeguard sailors and shipping, who put their objections in writing. This document is often quoted in part but because of its relevance here it is reproduced in full in Appendix I. The first proposed dimensions of Sovereign of the Seas are mentioned in it and because of her size, the Masters’ concern over anchoring and safe mooring, from the point of view of maintaining lives, is most profound. Nevertheless, this was overcome by April 1635 when her first set of dimensions were agreed, with a wildly optimistic initial estimated cost of £13,860 by Phineas Pett who was to give assurance to finish her for £16,000. A discussion of her actual dimensions can be found in Chapter 4.

Phineas Pett and his young son Peter were instructed to design the ship, which they did in the usual manner by building a model, but Peter was put in charge of the actual construction. Her keel was laid at Woolwich Dockyard on 21 December 1635 and in September 1637, after over twenty months of construction, Sovereign of the Seas was ready for launching.

A ship of such size required a spring tide on the Thames to launch so the date was set for the first suitable day, 25 September. Unhappily, with the King and his royal entourage present, the launch failed when the ship jammed on the ways; this was set right and at the next spring tide, 14 October, she successfully entered the water, but with far less ceremony that had been originally planned. By May of the next year Sovereign of the Seas had been moved to Erith, masted and rigged and then sailed to Greenhithe to be armed and provisioned. Sea trials began on 12 July and on the 21st the King gave the ship his approval. As the design had evolved, the cost far exceeded the £13,860 estimate, but by the time the ship sailed, a total of £65,586 16s 9½d had been spent on her – it has been pointed out that this sum could have paid for about ten average-sized warships at the time.

Some twelve months later, Charles insisted that her complement of guns be increased to 100, so 12 guns were added to bring the grand total up to 102. While our ship was not the first three-decker (with complete gun batteries on three flush decks), she was the first to carry the magic number of guns, one hundred.

When Parliament gained control of the navy, Sovereign of the Seas was renamed Sovereign in 1650. By 22 October 1651 it was decided that the ship was crank (top-heavy) and the Navy Office reported that they had

seriously debated the manner and way to make the shipp Sovereign a fitter ship for service then she now is, and upon the result doe unanimously concurr that if the alterations bee made in her according to the certificate mentioned on the other side, she will be farr more serviceable both for remote and home employment by reason she will bee lesse draught of water by neare a foote then than now, and thereby carry her lower tyer of gunns neere a foote higher and without any diminution of her strength or force, or inconvenience in point of state.

This was in response to a letter from Chatham Dockyard of 11 October, earlier that year:

… as to the Soveraigne wee conceive that to make her more serviceable then now she is, the gratings and upper deck in the midshipps be taken downe and the side lored [lowered] to the upper edge of the ports in the midshipps, the upper State Room to be taken away, the forecastle to be lored to six foote high, and the works abaft to bee taken down proportionately to the waist and answerable to the sheere of the work fore and after, the halfe decke to be shortened as shall bee convenient, as alsoe the head to be made shorter and so fitted for the sea. And the galleryes to bee altered as may be comely and most convenient for service.

These alterations were performed at Chatham Dockyard.

There was not very much material removed from the ship in order to gain the promised foot of freeboard but, in the chapter on hull design, it will be seen that this was desirable – according to Deane (p56), the lowest gun port of a man of war should be 4ft 6in above the load waterline whereas at launch Sovereign of the Seas’ freeboard here was a disappointing 3ft 6in. Taking down the ‘upper deck in the midshipps’ has been taken by some historians to mean that Sovereign was greatly reduced, to a 90-gun ship, but this was not so: only the upper most section of her rails were lowered.

On 28 September 1652 during the First Dutch War Sovereign fought at the battle of Kentish Knock where, near the end of the fight, she ran aground. She managed to return to port where she sat out the balance of the war. Captain John Taylor, the master shipwright at Chatham Dockyard, supervised a rebuild of Sovereign from 1659 to 1660. In a recollection, Robert Lee, a later master shipwright of Chatham, refers to her first alterations as well at this rebuild and says that her principal dimensions were not changed either time, nor were her original timbers.

At the restoration of Charles II in 1660 the ship was renamed Royal Sovereign by the King. During the Second Dutch War Royal Sovereign fought at the Four Days’ Battle (1–4 June 1666) and at the St James Day fight (25 July 1666) and during the Third Dutch War at the Texel on 11 August 1673.

By August of 1675 it was realised that Royal Sovereign was in a poor state of repair and needed another rebuild. It was then suggested, by the master shipwright at Chatham (another Phineas Pett) that when this work was performed, she should be given a full modernisation. A second surveyor’s report was produced in 1680 but this mainly concerned her deteriorated structure and did not suggest large design changes. It was not until 1685 that work finally began, carried out by Lee, but as there is no further record of what was done, it is assumed that she was given a large rebuild that increased her size and changed her looks considerably.

Finally, Royal Sovereign fought at Beachy Head on 30 June 1690 and at Barfleur from 19 May 1692 during William III’s war with France.

While laid up at Chatham she burned to the waterline on 29 January 1696. Most sources agree that the fire was started by an unattended candle that a watchman had left in his cabin.

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BIOGRAPHIES AND SOURCES

Phineas Pett and Peter Pett

At the time the Sovereign of the Seas was conceived, the Pett family name was almost synonymous with shipbuilding. The founder of the dynasty, Peter Pett (died 1589), was master shipwright at Deptford. His son Phineas (1570–1647) had received a limited education at Cambridge and had studied under Matthew Baker, the pre-eminent shipwright of the time. Phineas served as master shipwright at Chatham from 1605 to 1629 but during this period he also oversaw the construction of ships at Deptford and Woolwich. He became the resident commissioner at Chatham in 1629 and while in that post he designed our ship. He put his son, another Peter (1610–1672) and master shipwright at Woolwich, in charge of building Sovereign of the Seas. Like his father, Peter also became a Commissioner of the Navy.

Charles was closely watching over his favoured project and because Phineas was nominally responsible for our vessel, he sent written reports to the King regularly. As related by Evelyn Berckman (see Bibliography), this correspondence demonstrates the King’s close involvement with even technical aspects of the project, sometimes overruling professional advice in the process.

While it is accepted that the Pett family made an enormous contribution to the development of English ship design, it must also be recognised that they were not strangers to corruption. At Chatham in 1588, Peter Pett, along with John Hawkins, was suspected of withholding shipyard wages. Later, Pepys, who was devoted to improving administration in the royal dockyards, promoted the work of Anthony Deane, at least partly driven by his distrust of the Pett family and their hold over shipbuilding. However, from the evidence of his Diary, it must be said that Pepys was as much interested in channelling money his own way as he was in eliminating corruption completely.

Thomas Heywood and Sir Anthony van Dyck

Thomas Heywood (1570s–1641) was a many-talented artist, described as playwright, actor, poet, dramatist and writer. There is uncertainty over his birth date (thought to be in the early 1570s) and over his education – possibly Cambridge – but he was certainly well versed in the classics. Because of this knowledge he was chosen to create the decorative design themes (iconography) for Sovereign of the Seas, which were in turn executed by painter Anthony van Dyck.

It is said that one of his plays, Love’s Mistress or the Queen’s Mask, which was performed by 1634, was seen three times by Charles I, so he must have been well known to the King. He had also written poems and prose to record and honour royal events. In 1637 he was given ‘royal leave to publish’ a pamphlet in praise of the glory of Sovereign of the Seas and later wrote an addendum to it. In an effort to promote the ship, and his own work, Heywood is vulgarly exuberant in both of these publications and he is the source of some myths about the ship: he claims that she had three flush decks, he gives incorrect dimensions and weights for her, and so forth. The papers are listed in the Bibliography at the end of this book.

Anthony van Dyck (1599–1641) was a Flemish-born artist who studied and worked throughout Europe until 1632 when he was brought to London by James I to become court painter. He is mostly known for his portraits.

John Payne

An important source – and I must confess a great source of inspiration for the current work – is the engraving of Sovereign of the Seas by John Payne (1607–1647). Payne is another artist who was known for his portraits and among his work this ship image is considered to be a masterpiece. In his detailed study The Portrait of Peter Pett and the Sovereign of The Seas Geoffrey Callender described it thus: ‘… the engraving may well claim to rank as one of the most successful English efforts in line cut during the first half of the seventeenth century.’ While Payne’s talent as an artist cannot be denied, he was, unhappily, not a shipbuilder, and there are many flaws in his work. Again, to quote Callender: ‘Payne’s Engraving, then, confessedly belongs very largely to the realm of the Imagination.’

The prints were published in the spring of 1638, before the vessel had been rigged, and they are large – it took two plates to execute them and together they measure 36½ by 26½ inches. They are blatant propaganda: the King needed ship money and the prints were a means of demonstrating the importance of his ship, his navy and himself to the taxpayers. The plates were probably copper, and it is difficult to imagine how the delicate line work of the two were made to coincide; in fact, there is a row of flaws on the prints, where lines do not align. The row is vertical and is just to the right of the centre of the print. It could easily be mistaken for a fold in the paper.

There are a number of other images of our ship that are obviously modelled on Payne’s print. The British Museum has a print from an engraving by an unidentified artist that copies the vessel but places her in a different background. This is a very amateurish attempt, but the artist has tried to correct some of Payne’s errors in that he has properly spaced the ship’s shrouds. However, the two most conspicuous tell-tales are that he has reproduced the ship’s crew as Payne has and has copied a major mistake – the mizzen yard is outboard of the shrouds. L A Castro also followed Payne for a large painting and this became the subject of much discussion in print during the early years of The Mariner’s Mirror.

I have only used Payne’s print for the current work and have not relied on any copies; later artists did not improve on the original work. However, there is a beautiful version of Payne’s engraving at the National Maritime Museum that is coloured and this was useful for the flags, banners and part of the hull.

There is one final drawing that must be considered but there is a mystery to it. In the Admiralty Collection there is a well-executed draught of an outboard profile and stern profile that is named Royal Sovereign. The appearance of the outboard is based on Sovereign of the Seas for decoration, but the dimensions are for the later, larger, ship and when compared to the Admiralty sheer plan of the 1701 Royal Sovereign, they are two different vessels. Without going into too much detail, the stern galleries are altogether different as are the beakheads and gun port arrangements. In short, the drawing is an amalgam of both ships. Furthermore, the stern does not resemble our ship as it is depicted by Lely; the transom is broader, the upperworks are more square and wider at the taffrail, and the decoration is considerably different. It is thought that these drawings were produced to assist in building a model that was commissioned by Sir Robert Seppings when he was Surveyor from 1813 to 1832. I have not used this source for the current work, but they must have had fun producing it.

Willem van de Velde the Elder and Willem van de Velde the Younger

Willem van de Velde the Elder (1611–1693) and his son Willem van de Velde the Younger (1633–1707) were Dutch artists that were well established in the field of maritime painting in the Netherlands when, in the winter of 1672/3, they moved to England. Charles II was keen on visually recording the ships of his navy and the battles they fought in, so the van de Veldes were hired by him to produce drawings and paintings for which they were paid £100 per year each. While they both sketched and painted, the Elder was famed for his line work while painting was the forte of van de Velde the Younger. The quality of their work is unsurpassed, and its quantity is monumental; J M W Turner found inspiration in the Younger’s work and they are credited with establishing England’s first school of maritime art. Because of their knowledge of ships and their attentiveness to detail in portraying them, both artists and historians owe them a great deal.

The sketch of Sovereign of the Seas is the work of van de Velde the Elder. With only a few changes to details, it could be thought to have been copied from Payne, but this work is so convincingly original, I believe it is drawn from life. By 1675 it was felt that that the ship needed a rebuild but this did not begin until 1685 so she was in Ordinary for ten years. It is interesting that van de Velde shows her in what might be this condition because she is completely derigged, and her lower masts are only ghosted on the sketch, but this seems to be contradicted by the fact that she carries all of her guns and her anchors and sits low in the water. However, other drawings suggest that if the van de Veldes were concerned only with a vessel’s hull they often did not bother with her masting.

This sketch raises another question, and one that may never be answered: because the silhouettes of her sheer rails are identical on both Payne and van de Velde, were the minor changes to the ship’s upperworks that were considered by the Navy Office late in 1651 ever carried out?

Judging from the photographic reproduction of van de Velde’s drawing (I worked from a large-scale copy that was reproduced in Callender’s The Portrait of Peter Pett and the Sovereign of the Seas), there is an irregular line around the whole of the drawing that indicates it was cut from its original paper and mounted on new backing, and the drawing has been folded four times. There is a patch on the drawing that extends aft from the gangway to the break of the hull and from under the lower gallery and balcony to the waterline. It therefore includes the five aftermost gun ports and part of the wale. The lines do not match up and it is washed over in a lighter, less convincing tone. The taffrail, stern lantern, lion and unicorn are only ghosted. The fore mast is not drawn, the main mast is blocked out while the mizzen is drawn solid. On the fore channel the chains were erroneously placed and then moved; they are ghosted about eighteen inches aft of their proper location.

Some differences between Payne’s print and van de Velde’s sketch

While the differences between Payne’s and van de Velde’s hulls are discussed in detail in the following text, this list is for quick reference when viewing both of the images:

•Van de Velde’s vessel has been derigged down to her deadeyes. The only hemp left is the gammoning, cat falls, main stay collar and anchor related rope

•All of the decoration varies in detail

•Van de Velde shows St George’s crosses on the insides of the gun port lids

•The top strake of the upper channel has been moulded

•The fore and main channels are wider on van de Velde than on Payne and on top of the main channel van de Velde has shown slim brackets. The current work follows van de Velde and I have added brackets to the fore channel. Because van de Velde’s channels are wide, his chains differ from Payne’s

•Payne shows three anchors, van de Velde two

•Payne shows scuppers at the gun and second deck levels

•Van de Velde shows a gangway at the entry port

•The roofs at the galleries are considerably different between our artists

•On Payne, the fore ends of the gallery balconies are flat, on van de Velde they are round

•The side and stern lanterns on both images are similar but here I have followed the Lely painting (see below)

•The lion and unicorn statues on the taffrail are also similar on both works as they face aft but again, Lely has been followed and I have shown them facing outboard

•At the coach bulkhead Payne shows a ladder to the deck on the starboard side whereas van de Velde shows a stair with platform to both sides

‘The True Portraicture of His Maties Royall Ship the Soveraigne of the Seas …’ by John Payne, engraver. (Science Museum, London)

Sir Peter Lely

The glorious painting of Peter Pett and the stern of the Sovereign of the Seas reproduced in the colour section is attributed to Sir Peter Lely (1618–1680) but there is some doubt over the accuracy of this claim. It is assumed that Lely did indeed paint the portrait of Pett on the right, between 1645 and 1650, but it is thought by some that the stern was painted later by another artist. In all events, a short biography of Lely is pertinent. Lely was born Pieter van der Fraes in Holland and moved to London around 1641, where he became portrait painter to Charles I. Such was his renown in this field that he survived two regime changes, working first for Cromwell, then after the Restoration for King Charles II.

The Navy List of 1640

The original full title of this manuscript is ‘The Length of MASTS & YARDS, Etc. 1640 (Containing also Sizes of Cables, Anchors, Standing Rigging, Boats and Sails)’. It is a listing of all of the English Navy’s ships of 1640 and its title ably describes its contents. It was found in manuscript form in the library at Petworth House (and hence it is often referred to as the Petworth Manuscript), and was published by The Society for Nautical Research in 1931 as Occasional Publication No 3, edited by G S Laird Clowes. Clowes has added some useful comments to the original work and throughout this text it is referred to as ‘The Navy List of 1640’.

The Sovereign of the Seas, drawing by Willem van de Velde the Elder. (Plate from Callender, The Portrait of Peter Pett and the Sovereign of the Seas)

Edward Hayward

Edward Hayward was Clerk of the Survey at Chatham when he was ordered by the Commissioners of the Navy to prepare a listing of The Sizes and Lengths of Rigging for all the States Ships and Frigates. This was printed by Peter Cole in January 1654/5 in the form of a book that was 60 pages long. An atmosphere of secrecy surrounded it, since it was ordered that neither the printer nor Hayward were to ‘… sell, or dispose of the said Books that shall be so printed, to any person or persons, other than to his Highness [Cromwell] and Council, and of the Officers of the Admiralty and Navy respectively …’. One wonders why the Commissioners would go to such an expense and why such a harmless document was considered secret. Copies were printed for some forty people but in the event, only twenty were issued.

Because of her size, Sovereign of the Seas is always the first entry under each heading, and besides listing the rigging as promised by its title, the book fully catalogues stores, tools and materials for ‘… Eight Months Sea-Service upon the Coast of England’ in a manner that provides broader insights. For example, we can deduce the size of our ship’s crew from the number of hammocks that were issued to her. It was further used to confirm information from other sources in this book and, as will be seen, it is used throughout the text.

The book must have been of value during its day because it was republished by Hayward in 1660, soon after the Restoration. This edition was dedicated to the Duke of York and with it all of the Royal Navy’s vessels have been renamed. Another, slightly modified edition was published in 1666.

Sir Anthony Deane

Sir Anthony Deane (1638–1721) fits the description of a Renaissance Man from the range of his professions: he was a politician, militia officer, master shipwright, Commissioner of the Navy Board, commercial shipbuilder, Council Member of the Royal Society and most important to us, naval architect, though the term was not in general use at the time. Little is known of his early life, but it must be assumed that he had received some formal education from his knowledge of mathematics. He built twenty-five Navy ships using his scientific principles.

In 1660 he was Assistant Master Shipwright at Woolwich Dockyard and it is further assumed that he was apprenticed to the Master Shipwright there, Christopher Pett. He met Samuel Pepys in 1662 and two years later, due to Pepys’ influence, was promoted to Master Shipwright at Harwich Dockyard. In 1670, while he was Master Shipwright at Portsmouth, and supposedly at the request of Pepys, he wrote his Doctrine of Naval Architecture. In an age when ‘trade secrets’ were considered necessary to survive in the commercial world, it is no wonder that it was never published, but was only circulated as a manuscript book among a selected few. It is extraordinary in its comprehensiveness, and in his Diary John Evelyn quotes Pepys, referring to Deane and his doctrine: ‘… and very good discourse and particularly about my getting a book for him to draw up his whole theory of shipping, which at my desire he had gone far in and hath shown me what he hath done therein to admiration.’ Then later, Evelyn was shown by Pepys ‘a large folio containing the whole mechanic part and art of building royal ships of war made by Sir Anthony Deane, being so accurate a piece from the very keel to the lead block, rigging, guns, victualling, manning and even to every individual pin and nail, in a method so astonishing and curious, with a draught both geometrical and in perspective and several sections that I do not think the world can show the like. I esteem this book an extraordinary jewel.’

The doctrine is of profound importance to the current work because I have based the hull design of Sovereign of the Seas on Deane’s design techniques. For her time, our vessel was unique and innovative and while we do not know the design methods of the Petts, we do know that while working at Woolwich, Deane would have been influenced by the Pett family’s thinking through Christopher. Things moved slowly at the time and the designers of ships were particularly conservative in their