Best Resource for Indigenous Boats Ever!

The title of this post is hyperbole in only the slightest degree, for Admiral A. Bertrand Paris's work Essai sur la Construction Navale des Peuples Extra-Europeéns (Essay on the Boatbuilding of Non-European People) is without doubt a superbly valuable resource for anyone seeking design and construction details of native watercraft from around the world at or around 1841. (Pity that it's in French.) 

Pointed out to me by Capt. Robert Whitehurst, Admiral Paris's book is available for download in numerous formats at the Internet Archive. The work is subtitled Collection des navires et pirogues construits par les habitants de l'Aise, de la Malaisie, du Grand Océan et de l'Amérique (Collection of ships and boats built by the inhabitants of Asia, Malaysia, the Great [i.e., Pacific] Ocean and the Americas). In spite of its length and apparent comprehensiveness, the subtitle omits Africa, which is also represented in the book.

Along with thousands of detailed, measured, engineering-style drawings and lines drawings, Paris includes hundreds of wonderful sketches of boats in use in their native habits -- wonderful as much for their artistry as for their detail and accuracy. Just to try to get you to go over to the Internet Archive to view (and hopefully, download) the entire book, I'll include a few representative images here.

Sail, construction, and lines plans of dhows (click any image to enlarge) 

Beached dhows 

A scene in Valparaiso, Chile, including (at right) an raft buoyed by inflated skins (presumably seal or sea lion)

Detail drawing of the inflated skin raft in the previous image

Log boats, single- and double-outrigger canoes, umiaks, kayaks, bark boats, dhows, rafts...these are just a tiny sampling from a superb resource that has the power to hold the attention of any indigenous boats fans for hours. Do yourself a favor and check out the full document.

Capt. Whitehurst also kindly provided these links to biographical background on Admiral Paris:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fran%C3%A7ois-Edmond_P%C3%A2ris

http://www.epochtimes.fr/front/10/10/17/n3503596/tous-les-bateaux-du-monde.htm

http://www.yachtonline.it/people-en/francois-edmond-paris-watercolours

http://anmm.wordpress.com/2010/01/07/admiral-pariss-amazing-encyclopedia/

More on Mtepes

If yesterday's post on the Kenyan sewn vessel the mtepe wasn't long enough, here's a bit more, gleaned from a source brought to my attention by a reader who wishes to remain anonymous but whose input is much appreciated.

First off, I was incorrect in using the plural form mtepes. It should be mitepe, according to this source ("The Mtepe: regional trade and the late survival of sewn ships in east African waters," Erik Gilbert, in International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 1998).

Next, there's this wonderful photo from the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts:

The mtepe shown appears to combine the beak-like stempost terminal of a mtepe proper with the sharply angled stem and long bow overhang of a dau la mtepe. Perhaps this c.1890 photo caught the mtepe during its transition period to the new style. As Gilbert notes, it's a graceful vessel, much finer in appearance than the extant chunky-looking models of mitepe proper, and more like photos of other dau la mitepe, but with the advantage of the lovely terminal head.

Gilbert's argument is that the mtepe's survival into the 20th century was not some weird conservative holdover, but due to the fact that its shallow draft, seagoing ability, and substantial capacity made it uniquely suitable to a couple of niche activities. 

After the Royal Navy began suppressing the slave trade in 1860, the mtepe found a role as an excellent slaver (please excuse the expression), able to avoid British patrols by sailing near inshore, but capacious enough to carry substantial human cargoes and fast enough to dash across the short deep-water sections necessary to reach its markets. Likewise, shallow draft and good capacity worked to its advantage in the mangrove pole trade, as it could be poled deep into mangrove swamps, where its strong but flexible hull had to take the ground twice daily, while its seagoing ability allowed it to travel regularly between its home in the Lamu archipelago and Zanzibar, where the mangrove forests and markets were.

Although the hull does not appear so particularly shallow in draft (see lines), that characteristic was frequently cited by contemporary Western observers. Gilbert cites the large mtepe upon which the replica Shangwaya was based which, when measured  in 1877, had a length of 97 feet, breadth of 24 feet, girth of 40 feet, depth of 9.5 feet and tonnage of186 (tonnage measurement type unknown). From this, Gilbert estimates a draft of 7 feet maximum, which is not bad for a vessel of that capacity.

It was only after the death of both the slave and the mangrove pole trades that the sewn-plank mtepe fell out of use. The jahazi, a dhow style of nailed construction, was already in wide use in the same region, and it did not force the mtepe out, but it filled any remaining niches that the mtepe left vacant.

The Mtepes of Kenya

A dau al mtepe (source unclear). Click any image to enlarge.

Among the indigenous boats that disappeared in the 20th century was the mtepe, the world's last large sewn vessel. The last mtepe built was in 1930, and the last one in existence was wrecked in 1935 (they might have been the same vessel: my sources are unclear).

History and Usage

            Unique to the Swahili culture of east Africa, mtepes were built in the Lamu archipelago off Kenya. Evidently an old design, their origin is unknown: there are references to sewn boats in the region that date back to classical antiquity and to the earliest years of Portuguese exploration, but these might have been other designs that were similar to mtepes in some respects. The earliest unmistakable references to mtepes date from the 19th century.

Both mtepes and dau al mtepes (shown) carried very large spreads of sail and were reportedly fast sailors and surprisingly weatherly.

            Mtepes were of two types, the mtepe proper, and the dau la mtepe, which superseded it. The transition apparently occurred in the 19th century because, while there are contemporary models and documentary evidence of the earlier mtepe, the only photos seem to be of the later dau la mtepe. Both were double-ended and generally similar in design, but there were a few significant differences between the types, which we'll get to below. (I will use "mtepe" in Roman text to refer to both types, and will italicize it as mtepe to refer to the mtepe proper as distinct from the dau al mtepe.)

Model dau al mtepe (recognizable by the bowsprit) at National Marine Museum, Greenwich. The tassels are called the "camel's beard."

Mtepes varied considerably in size. Most seem to have been between 40 and 75 feet (I presume that the measurements were taken on deck, and did not include prow extensions, bowsprits or outboard rudders)  and of 12 to 50 tons burthen, but one recorded in the 19th century was 30 meters long and 186 tons. All references report them to have been very fast and able sailors, easily able to out-point settee-rigged dhows. This is surprising considering their rig, which consisted of a single square sail of palm leaf matting.

            Faza in the Lamu archipelago was the center for mtepe building: as many as 20 were being built there annually early in the 20th century. With a crew of about 20, they traded north to Zanzibar and south to Kenya's Mrima coast. Toward the end of their employment, their primary cargo was mangrove poles, but earlier cargoes included grain, pottery, cattle, salt, firewood and slaves. To collect the mangrove cargoes, the crew would punt the vessel into a swamp and cut and load the poles themselves, receiving payment from the proceeds of the voyage on a "share" basis. Oars were also used for propulsion when necessary.

Mtepe model at Science Museum, Kensington. Note large rudder, the bird-like figure on the tall prow, flags, tassels and painted decoration, as well as the thatched house aft of the mast.

Mtepes leaked copiously, so bailing was constant. It is recorded that, as a test for employment, a prospective crew member had to demonstrate his ability to lift a bailer full of water measuring 24" in diameter and 9" deep. (This works out to about 3 U.S. gallons or 25 pounds. As a test of strength, lifting it isn't impressive, especially when considering that the bailer was made of woven palm leafs and probably leaked, and that it was very wide and shallow, so unlikely to have been lifted full in any case. On the other hand, if you're bailing a vessel, lifting that weight several hundred times per hour is indeed an impressive demonstration.)

A weatherly hull, but not made for beaching without supports. Image from Hornell.

With their deep V-shaped hulls and flexible sewn construction, mtepes were not stiff enough to lie on their sides. They were never allowed to take the ground unless supported by props.

Construction

            The mtepe bears many similarities to dhows and the two might have influenced each other's development in unknown ways in ancient times. Certainly, the dau al mtepe (which I think translates roughly as "dhow-style mtepe") adopted some of the characteristics of the dhow late in the 19th century.

Sketch of a model of a mtepe at Ft. Jesus, Mombasa.

A crew of five or six carpenters, being supervised by the ship's future captain, would typically built a mtepe in two to three months, including harvesting their own timber, which was used green. Like all relatives of traditionally-built dhows, mtepes were built shell-first, on a keel, with smooth-laid planks of mangrove wood. (I hesitate to call it carvel, because that implies a construction method and certain details which do not apply here.)

            Garboards were sewn or stitched to a one-piece keel. It is not known whether the keel was rabbeted. On many dhows, the garboard butts against the side of the keel or a beveled surface at the intersection of the top and sides. Stem and sternpost were lashed to the keel only after two or three strakes were in place. There were no deadwoods or stem knees. Partial-length planks were scarfed diagonally without butt blocks.

            Planking the hull was an enormously laborious process. After holes were drilled through the planks near both edges, the planks were sewn together with three-strand coir (coconut husk cord). First, coir fiber was pounded into the seam from inside. Then, over the seam was spread a thick paste of made of pounded mangrove bark, the tannin in which preserved the coir caulking. Onto the paste were laid strips of crushed coconut husk, and then a layer of palm leafs. A sharpened piece of palm leaf was attached to one end of the cord and used as a sewing needle. Men worked in pairs, inside and outside the hole.

Each time the man inside passed the cord through the hole, he would pound it with a mallet to compress the package of caulking material beneath the stitch, then would plug the hole with a tapered plug to hold the cord in place temporarily, until his turn came for the next stitch. The man outside would wrap the cord around a short stick, place one end of it against the hull, and lean back, using the stick as a lever to tighten the cord before passing it back through the next hole. About six feet of seam length was sewn at a time, the coir being passed around and through each hole several times, both straight up and down and diagonally. Tapered plugs were then pounded into each hole from the outside.

After the the hull was completely stitched, the plugs outside the hull were cut off flush, and then the stitches themselves were cut off on the outside! This would leave the planks fastened to each other by thousands of very short pieces of cord, held in place only by the plugs pounded in from outside – a very odd way to address the vulnerability of the stitches outside the hull. This last process was omitted only near the stem and sternpost, and apparently some mtepes were built with the stitches remaining on the outside over their whole surface.

Alternate view of plank pegs. Above: oblique (through outer face of lower plank of each pair). Below: edge-set (drilled into the adjoining edges of plank pairs). The direction in which the pegs used to plug the stitch holes were installed also differs in these two views. (Source: Adams)

            Most reports indicate that after the strakes were sewn together, pegs were inserted by drilling obliquely upward into the outboard face of a plank so that the drill exited the plank on the edge and penetrated the plank above it also on its edge. Others disagree, claiming that the strakes were first edge-drilled on their matching faces, "dowel tenons" set into the holes, and the upper strake then pounded down onto the lower one. Only then were the planks through-drilled and sewn together.

            If the first method (oblique pegging) is correct, then the pegs' main function seems to be to eliminate shear between adjacent strakes. If the second method (edge-set pegs) is correct, then the pegs seem to function primarily as an assembly aid. In both cases, the stitches are primarily responsible for holding the planks tight against each other. It is not impossible that both methods were used.

Cross section of a mtepe, showing futtock frames, stringers, thwart pairs with gammon lashings, mast step, planks and keel. (Source: Adams)

Interior framing was added only after strakes were in place. Amidships, there were futtock frames which rested on floor timbers but were not attached to them. Moving outboard were half-frames, and then one-piece frames (i.e., gunwale to gunwale) in the very ends. The frames were lashed to the hull with a few light cords passed through holes in the planks. Frame spacing was reportedly wide, but no specifics are available. Five or six sets of cross-beams or thwarts were installed in pairs, upper and lower, separated by a few planks. These were notched and passed through the planks, and were gammoned to each other. In addition to transverse strength, the upper thwart of each set served as deck supports and mast partners. Two or three stringers were installed, so lightly lashed to the frames that they seem to have provided little lateral strength: perhaps they helped support and secure the cargo.

            During the southwest monsoon, when the mtepe was laid up annually, every stringer and frame was removed and every stitch was replaced. With a full crew working, the job could be done in about eight days.

Rig

            Although most reports indicate a plum mast, more recent measurements of models and photographs indicate that the mast had a forward rake of 6 to 14 degrees. The mast was supported by a forestay, two backstays, and usually one shroud per side, although some mtepes may have had a single shroud that was passed from one side to the other when tacking – a rare occurrence for tradewind sailors.

Mast step (bow to right). Note forward rake of mast, which rests against a pair of thwarts and is lashed forward to a stanchion forward of the thwarts. A stanchion beneath another pair of thwarts hold down the aft end of the step. The step typically spanned many frames, nearly the entire interior length of the ship, but it was not a keelson. (Source: Adams)

            The sail was made from many strips of plaited palm leaves, sewn together. There were two or three sets of reef points near the head of the sail. The sail was supported by a yard and a boom of delicate appearance. The yard was equipped with parrels; the boom with a simple loop of rope to perform that function. In addition to a halyard, the yard was supported by two "lift braces," which served both functions implied by that name. As I don't understand how this could work, I'll copy my source and perhaps a reader can explain:

"(The yard) is hoisted to the mast-head by means of a halyard supplemented by two lateral tackles which combine the functions of lifts and braces and may therefore be termed "lift braces". The upper end of the halyard is rove through a sheave-hole some way below the mast-head and made fast to the middle of the yard. Each lift-brace functions through a purchase fitted between the mast-head and one end of the yard, a tackle consisting of two single blocks. One end of the rope is rove through the block at the end of the yard, passes to the block at the mast and returns to be made fast to the yard-arm just inner to the first block. These lift-braces, as the name implies, also control the set of the yard; by slacking away on one and hauling on the other, the yard is veered." ("The Sea-Going Mtepe and Dau of the Lamu Archipelago," James Hornell, Mariner's Mirror, January 1941)

Differences Between Mtepes and Dau al Mtepes

            Throughout the above discussion, I've treated both types of vessels together, as the features described seem mainly to have applied to both. But there were some differences between mtepes proper and dau al mtepes, some obvious and others significant but not apparent.

            The stem and stern of a dau al mtepe were raked considerably more than those of a mtepe, so that, for boats of identical length, the dau would have a far shorter keel. The stem of the mtepe was surmounted by a large curved terminal that may have represented a camel's head. The dau had no such device, but instead had a long bowsprit. The mtepe was more colorful and far more highly decorated, with occuli both fore and aft, painted bands on the topmost strakes, and amulets, tassels and flags. Perhaps by the time the dau came into being, the trade was already under competitive pressure from other, more modern boat types, and decoration was discarded as uneconomic.

Stepped, stacked breasthook stem in the dau al mtepe. The outer false stem (a) was not always present. (From Hornell)

            The most interesting difference, however, was in the construction of the stem and sternpost. The mtepe had fairly conventional timber posts, except that the stem was in two pieces joined by an unusual mortise-and-tenon joint open at the front and rear. The dau al mtepe's was even stranger: it consisted of a series of stacked, V-shaped breasthooks, each one about as tall as a strake, tapering aft, and pegged to one another. In some cases, a solid timber was fastened outboard of this stacked construction. It is not known how planks were fastened to the stems/sternposts in either case, or if the timbers were rabbeted.

A Mtepe Replica

The replica mtepe Shungwaya in the House of Wonders Museum, Zanzibar (Source: Wikipedia)

            In 2003, a mtepe was built for an exhibit on dhow culture at the House of Wonders Museum in Zanzibar. The design was to be a roughly half-size (but not half-scale) interpretation of a mtepe that had been measured in 1877 at 97 feet long, 24 feet beam, and depth of 9.5 feet (apparently including draft plus freeboard). The boatbuilder who was contracted for its construction it had never worked on a mtepe, but had heard about some of the construction processes from his grandfather, who was one of the last builders of dau al mtepes. Even though guided by academics and museum personnel, the builder diverged from several known aspects of mtepe construction, most notably in building the boat frame-first as opposed to shell-first, and in refusing to cut off the plank lashings on the hull's outer surface. Named Shungwaya, the boat was briefly tested in Zanzibar harbor, where it proved to be quick and to leak somewhat as expected. It is now on display at the House of Wonders Museum.

The mtepe Shungwaya

Main sources: 

"Construction and Qualitative Analysis of a Sewn Boat of the Western Indian Ocean, Robert Marshall Adams, (MA thesis, 1985, Texas A&M Univ.)

"Arabia to China -- the Oriental Traditions," Jeremy Green, in The Earliest Ships: The Evolution of Boats Into Ships (Conway's History of the Ship);(Naval Institute Press, 1996)

"The Sea-Going Mtepe and Dau of the Lamu Archipelago," James Hornell, Mariner's Mirror, January 1941

"The Mtepe 'Sungwaya' Sails Again," Professor Abdul Sheriff, et al, Ziff Journal, 2006

Planking a Dhow with Sewn Fastenings

The boom Sohar under main and mizzen. She also flew a jib. (Click any photo to enlarge.) All photos are from The Sinbad Voyage except where noted.

In 1980, Tim Severin built and launched the dhow Sohar, a twin-masted boom of sewn-plank construction. Although he referred to the expedition for which Sohar had been built as The Sinbad Voyage, in honor of that legendary -- and probably fictional -- Arab sailor, Severin's objective was to complete a historically accurate voyage of reenactment on the well-documented trade route from the Middle East to China followed by Arab merchants in the 8th through 10th centuries. (I've written previously about some of Severin's other voyages of reenactment: The Brendan Voyage; The China Voyage; and The Jason Voyage.)


Dhow is an imprecise term used only by Westerners for Indian Ocean vessels of traditional, mainly Arab or Indian, design. Arabs and Indians never use the term, but refer to a variety of specific craft, distinguished by hull shape and rig, by different terms. Before large commercial sailing dhows essentially disappeared around the end of the 20th century, the boom was one of the more popular types. Booms are distinguished mainly by their long, perfectly straight stem that rakes far forward. They are ketch-rigged, in the sense that they have two masts, the mizzen being ahead of the rudder post. But both masts hoist settee sails, unlike any Western ketch. (See a discussion of the settee sail.)

Sohar careened to reapply antifouling. This shot gives a good sense of  her underwater shape, and the plank stitches can be plainly seen.

Whether booms existed in the 8th-10th centuries is not certain (the evidence Severin cites is not convincing), but Arab long-distance trading vessels of that period were certainly built shell-first and without forms or pre-set frames, with their planks stitched together. (Here's a view of a 9th century Arab dhow based on more recent research.)

Sohar was 80 feet LOA, 63 feet LWL, 20 feet in beam, and 6 feet in draught. The backbone -- the timbers for which were all single, full-length pieces -- consisted of a 52-foot keel, 12"x15" in section, a 36'3" stem, and an 18' sternpost. I'll allow Severin to describe the planking:

Each strake was 8-12 inches broad, and between 2 1/4 and 3 inches thick depending on its position. No stealers were used. The strakes were normally divided into four or five sections, between 5 and 15 feet long, butted end to end with tongue and groove joints. The edge-to-edge surfaces between the strakes were flat; that is, there was no step or groove, though every 18 inches or so a locator dowel was used. The entire form was held together with coir stitching, done with four-strand cord. Stitch holes were approximately 4 inches apart, and placed 2 inches from the edges of the strakes.

As is typical in traditional forms of shell-first construction, the planks were cut to the needed shape without patterns or spiling: the builders simply know what shape to cut and how it will lie when bent and twisted into position. Planks were gotten out and fined up with soft iron chisels. Getting the mating surfaces to lie flush against one another to the required accuracy of 1/64" inch necessitated several trial fittings for every plank. Severin does not say whether the thick planks were steamed or fire-bent, but it was evidently hard and time-consuming work getting them into place.


No caulking in the regular sense was used. Instead, long narrow bundles of coir (coconut husk) fiber, which the builders called pythons, were placed along the interior seams, and the plank stitching wrapped around them, compressing them against the seams and holding them in place. To quote Severin on the installation of the first garboard section:

Lashing the first garboard plank to the keel. The worker at the bottom  is using a short pole as a lever to tighten the lashing. The "python" can be seen at the left, just inboard of the plank.

When Kasmikoya, the senior ropeworker, was ready, he divided his men into pairs, an inside man and an outside man. Each pair worked at passing a strand of the finest-quality coir cord out through a hole in the plank, back through the opposite hole in the keel, round the python and out again. There the outside man took a turn of the cord around his lever of stout wood, put his feet against the hull, leaned back, and hauled the string as tight as he could. On the inside, his partner tapped on the string to help it tighten.... Three times, stitch and overstitch, they lashed together plank, keel and python until finally the last stitches were plugged with little tufts of raw coconut fiber.

The complete garboard, installed; the next plank clamped in place and ready for stitching to begin.

After five strakes were in place, floors were installed, again lashed in place through holes bored in the planking. Partial frames were added in sections as the planking progressed. (Stitched hulls must be built shell-first; pre-set frames would make it impossible to stitch planks together.) Floors, lower frames and upper frames were all free-floating: that is, although they overlapped in height, they were not connected to each other. The framing was neatly gotten out on Sohar, unlike the frames on working dhows which were often hewed flat only on the bottom, and left entirely raw on their exposed surfaces. Floors and frames were also neatly notched so that lashings lay flush with, or recessed below, the surface, protecting them from abrasion. 

The exterior, below the waterline, was coated with antifouling made from lime mixed with mutton fat. Even in the teredo-infested Indian Ocean, this was entirely effective. 

Applying lime-and-fat antifouling by hand. (The vessel shown is not Sohar.)  One can only imagine what this does to your skin.

All interior surfaces were saturated with vegetable oil, a process that prevents the lashings and pythons from rotting if repeated every four to six months. But the veggy-oil coating had a serious downside: it generated copious amounts of hydrogen sulfide, so noxious that it caused sore throats, made eyes sting, and corroded electronics and other metals. So bad was the "bilge gas" that the crew avoided spending time belowdecks except in the worst weather.

Oiling the interior. Note how the lashings are neatly set into the frames, and how the frames are also notched over the pythons, which run lengthwise over the plank seams. The floors and partial frames are not fastened to one another -- indeed, they do not even touch. 

Compare the unfinished frames in this working dhow to Sohar's nicely-gotten-out frames and floors in the previous photo. (Source: The Dhow: An Illustrated History of the Dhow and its World by Clifford W. Hawkins)

Archaic though it may be, the stitched planking method employed on Sohar was entirely effective. The ship leaked no worse than many another wooden ship, and it successfully completed its 6,000-mile voyage without serious mishap, and in good condition.

Dhow Racing in Abu Dhabi

Great video here of  a dhow regatta in Abu Dhabi, with more than 80 boats competing:



These modern racing dhows look fast and sexy. It's very nice to see a culture adopting and adapting modern yacht racing to its native boats (or vice versa).

Buggalow Photos

A couple of posts back, I ran comments from reader and blogger António Fangueiro of Portugal about the dhow type known as the buggalow. According to António, the buggalow shows evidence of European influence both in design and in the quality of workmanship which, he says, is considerably finer than that of most dhows.


António subsequently sent me these photos, taken in Mozambique, I believe. He says they were published in a Portuguese magazine around 1910, and presumes that the photos were taken considerably earlier.

Looking at the foreground vessel in the first photo, I'm struck by the crooked mast, the heavy shrouds, the apparently very light yard built up of two sections and lashed about 1/3 of the way up from the bottom, and the unusually long luff on the settee sail. The vessel in the left background is another buggalow, without a rig.

I believe the caption of the second photo refers to the buggalow's similarity to the Portuguese nao or caravel, a couple examples of which appear below, also courtesy of António. I don't know the original source of these images. (If their owner contacts me, I will gladly provide credit.)

Of course, while there are some similarities, there are also substantial differences between buggalows and caravels, not least being the rig. The dhow rig carries a settee sail, while the caravel carries a lateen. See here for discussion of the difference between these two superficially similar types.

Thanks to António for his input.

Jewel of Muscat Sets Sail

Jewel of Muscat, a replica of a 9th century sewn-plank dhow, has begun its planned 3,000-mile voyage from Oman to Singapore by way of India, Sri Lanka, and Malaysia. Jewel's website provides the details (including plenty of photos, illustrations, and videos), and one of our previous posts explains the archaeological find upon which the vessel is based: a shipwreck of what was evidently a trading voyage between the Persian Gulf and China, discovered in Indonesian waters.

Jewel is 18 meters LOA, and her rig consists of two square-rigged masts, set up ketch-fashion. The photo, from Jewel's website, shows her being towed from the harbor in Port Sultan Qaboos, Oman, accompanied by a fleet of well-wishers and celebratory fireboat plumes. (The schooner-like appearance of the rig is merely a trick of the camera angle -- the forward mast is indeed the taller of the two.)

Jewel of Muscat Near Launching

According to reader named Oman, the Jewel of Muscat, a replica of a 9th-century sewn-hull dhow under construction in Oman (the country) is nearing completion and will probably be launched this month. Photo here. For more on this project, see this previous post and the accompanying comments. Thanks Oman (the person)!

National Maritime Museum, Cornwall

Welsh Coracle (photo National Maritime Museum Cornwall)

Wish I'd known about this place the one time I had the pleasure of visiting the southwestern corner of England: the National Maritime Museum Cornwall. No doubt my British friend and fellow blogger Gavin Atkin would be shocked at my ignorance, but it's news to me and may be to some other readers. A number of boats from non-Western traditions are on display, featured here with nice, but short descriptions, include: canoes of various descriptions (lapstrake, strip-built, paper, dugout, etc.), kayaks, coracles, a jangada, a Gilbert Islands outrigger canoe, and a dhow. Oddly enough, one of my favorites in the collection is as firmly rooted in the Western boatbuilding tradition as could be: Arthur Ransome's lapstrake dinghy Swallow.

Wearing Ship in a Dhow

(image from Clifford Hawkins; The Dhow. Click to enlarge.)

Tacking a dhow, with its huge and heavy settee spar, is apparently not as difficult as might be assumed, provided that a sizable crew is available. Clifford W. Hawkins, in his book The Dhow: an Illustrated History of the Dhow and its World, describes observing the process from aboard a small boat:

"As we closed in on the sambuk [a common two-masted dhow of the Red Sea, Gulf of Aden, South Arabia, and East Africa] I could see that some action was about to take place. The crew, rising off their haunches, casually sauntered to working positions; one right up int he bows at the mains'l tack, four at the shrouds, two to the yard's backhaul and a small group ready to handle the main sheet. These were the action stations for wearing ship, the preliminary operation for sailing on the opposite tack. When the critical moment arrived the helmsman threw over the wheel to bring the wind aft and the big mains'l was allowed to fly forward with the release of its sheet. Every member of the crew now came into action to carry the operation through. The two shrouds that had been taut to windward were eased off and the other pair set up on what was already becoming the new windward side. The yard, which had been freed from the masthead by letting loose the parrel, was at the same time hauled momentarily by the foot, so allowing it to pass over to the forthcoming leeward side. The flying sail was then hauled back and sheeted home on the opposite side to where it had been. it filled out and the sambuk was away on the new tack.

"Surprisingly the operation of wearing ship was not a long or very difficult procedure. The dhow turned unhesitatingly on its heel and was away on the new board with the loss of very little ground. It is possible for a dhow to go about, head to wind, but in doing so it would be in a somewhat similar position to a square-rigged sailing vessel caught aback with the great settee sail afoul of the mast and rigging. In an emergency a dhow could sail, after a fashion, like this and there is in fact one vessel, the Tuticorin thoni [a three-masted, Indian dhow], that habitually sails with the yard on one of its masts slung to port and the other to starboard so that one sail is alternately pulling free or is afoul of the mast as the thoni tacks. The thoni has an entirely unorthodox manner of setting up its rigging and it is this that allows the vessel to tack and not wear as other dhows do."

By the way, two-masted dhows all appear to be "ketches," with their mainmast in front. Hawkins shows no schooner dhows in his book. Below are just four of the 28 or so dhow types Hawkins documents; they are mostly distinguished by their rigs, but other differences include their size, the shape and rake of their stem and sternposts, by whether they are transom-sterned or double-ended, and a number of other characteristics.

9th Century Dhow

(illustration by Fernando G. Baptitsta; courtesy National Geographic, Click picture for larger image.)

An article in the June '09 issue of National Geographic features an early-ninth-century dhow wreck that was discovered off Sumatra, Indonesia. Loaded with Chinese trade goods, the wreck provided archaeologists with much detail about the nature of trade between China and the Persian Gulf, and about the boats that engaged in it.

About 58 feet long and 21 feet in beam, the hull was sewn, not nailed or pegged. Sewing was probably coir (fiber from coconut husks), and caulking with paperbark wadding. Planking was hardwood -- possibly teak -- and the deck was bamboo. According to the typically illuminating NG-style illustration, it had a straight keel, straight stem and sternpost (like a boom), and a steering oar a la a Viking ship. It had a keelson, deck beams that extended through the hull planking, and used lead ingots for ballast. The most un-dhow-like feature, by modern standards, were the lug sails, as opposed to settees.

It's thought that it may have been built in Oman -- a major dhow-building center right into the 20th century. The reconstruction is similar to an Omani type "known as a baitl qarib", according to the article. The book The Dhow, by Clifford Hawkins, which I've referred to in recent posts, doesn't describe this type.

A full-scale, sailing reproduction of the ancient boat, named the Jewel of Muscat, is under construction in Oman, with launching planned later this year. More on that project here. Thanks to Oman Holidays for the comment on my previous post drawing my attention to this impressive, ambitious project.

The Crude, Elegant Dhow

There appears to be a big difference in the approach to workmanship between Western (i.e., European/North American) boatbuilding and that of the dhow world. While the design of traditional Western working boats may have varied, from "workmanlike" to pure grace, workmanship tended to be quite high. Good enough was rarely good enough, and even the simplest and most pragmatic of working craft -- Banks dories come to mind -- tended to be built with cleanly-cut frames, nicely lined-off planks, and in general, evident pride of workmanship.

This doesn't seem to have been the case among dhow builders. Dhow designs are often lovely, sometimes elegant: as shown in the photo of a boom above, their hollow entries tend to merge beautifully along the waterlines into rather wide, square bilges, and there's an ineffable grace to the settee sail in its great variety of rigs. But workmanship tended toward -- no, that's too kind -- let's say favored -- the crude.

Construction began with the backbone (keel, stem and sternpost). Most had their planks assembled before frames were installed, being held together temporarily with external blocks or battens. No forms or moulds were used, so achieving the proper hull form required a really sophisticated understanding of plank shapes -- all the more impressive given the total absence of drawn plans. Contrary to popular belief, however, frame-first construction did occur in in many cases, with the frames being set up on the backbone, Western-fashion, before planking began. Scantlings were quite light by Western standards, but then again, the Indian Ocean isn't the North Atlantic.

In either case, only the outboard surfaces of the frames were flattened or squared up with an adze -- and that done rather roughly. All three inboard surfaces of the frames were left "natural" -- i.e., in the round, with the bark still attached. A look at the interior of a dhow's hull looks positively primitive. (Framing was often done with what was called "jungle wood" which, I believe, was mangrove.) In the picture below, showing a small boom under construction, every other frame butts against the keel, while those in between use natural curves to pass over the keel from one side to the other.

As late as the 1970s, dhows were being built with hand tools, sawing being done by hand, and drilling with bow drills. Plank fastenings were typically iron nails, driven in from the outside and clenched over into the inboard surface of the frames. Construction often occurred on a beach with no proper shipbuilding facilities whatsoever.

Launching from the beach was a strange procedure. As shown in the drawing below, logs were placed beneath the keel, and these were lashed tightly to lengths of timber laid across the gunwales, so that the dhow was held upright inside a vertical square framework at each end. The lower logs rested on skids. Baulks of timber were suspended by ropes from the upper timbers. Shipbuilders would pull back on these baulks and then release them; they would swing forward and strike the transverse logs with a great "thunk," inching the dhow forward over the skids. The procedure was repeated as many times as needed until the dhow reached the sea. A windlass was also used to pull the vessel along.

(All information and photos from The Dhow: an illustrated history of the Dhow and its World, by Clifford W. Hawkins, Nautical Publishing Co. Ltd., 1977.)

What's a Dhow?

Good question. According to Clifford W. Hawkins, in his nicely illustrated book The Dhow: an illustrated history of the Dhow and its World, the term is mainly a European word that seems to encompass just about all of the medium and large indigenous sailing craft of the Indian Ocean, including those of Arab, Persian, and Indian derivation, and more lately including motor-sailing and pure power craft as well. Even before 1977, when the book was published, Hawkins interviewed dhow sailors throughout its range, and none of them used the term and few even knew it; and those who did were familiar with it only through their contacts with Westerners.

That said, we can agree that it's an Indian Ocean craft and, if we exclude the modern powered types, that it has a lateen sail, right? The answer is nope on many counts.

First, let's deal with that "lateen" thing. Below, we see a true lateen sail on an Egyptian felucca.

Now let's look at the typical "triangular" sail of a dhow:

Notice how the dhow's sail is really a quadrilateral, with a short luff or leading edge, whereas the feluccas have a true triangular sail with no luff. This sail is called a settee, not a lateen. On some dhows this is very easy to mistake because the luff angles down only slightly from the line of the sail's head, but it's there nevertheless, and most easily recognized by the fact that the spar does not extend all the way to the tack or front-bottom corner.

So can we then refine the definition and say that a dhow is an Indian Ocean craft with a settee sail? No again. For starters, there have been dhows, so-called, with square sails, shown immediately below in the model of a mtepe, and below that in the confusingly-named dau la mtepe. The former, which had a sewn hull, is rather long extinct, while the latter survived into the early years of the 20th century.

Model of a mtepe (above)
A dau al mtepe (below)

But since both square-sail types are now extinct, can't we revert to the definition with the settee sail? No again, as a look at the thoni, an Indian type, shows at the top of the post. This thoni is flying an extraordinary diversity of sail types, including a settee main; a gaff spanker on the mizzen called a kose; a bome pai brailed up below it on the boom; a thanni or "water" sail hanging from the bowsprit; a settee-shaped topsail called a towser; a komitti, a rafee sail that appears just forward of the towser, flying from a stay; and a big four-sided jib called a dastoor that seems to have its upper forward corner ("throat"?) supported by a sprit or some other sort of yard. I believe there's at least one more sail flying on the mizzen but it's covered entirely by the mainsail. (The photo is a crop of the book's cover -- cropped because my scanner isn't big enough to do the whole thing. All other images from the same book.)

Bottom line, we probably can't come up with an iron-clad definition of a dhow, since it is a term that Europeans applied to just about all the sailing craft of the Indian Ocean, encompassing different rigs, hull forms, construction methods, and uses, and hailing from many different and far-flung lands and cultures. Best to think of dhows like seagulls -- there ain't no such bird as a "seagull," but it's a convenient cover-all term nonetheless and, even if you can't define it, most people know the group of birds, or boats, that you're talking about when you use it.

We'll look at dhows again in the next post.