Preserving Archaeological Remains in Situ Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites

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The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology (2014) 43.1: 199–238

doi: 10.1111/1095-9270.12050
Book Reviews
British Battleships of World War One (new revised edition)

RAY BURT
352 pp., full-colour endpapers, b&w and colour illustrations, photographs, camouflage schemes
Seaforth Publishing Ltd., 47 Church Street, Barnsley S70 3AS, 2012, £45 (hbk), ISBN 978-1848321472
British Battleships 1919–1945 (new revised edition)

RAY BURT
432 pp., full-colour endpapers, b&w and colour illustrations, photographs, camouflage schemes
Seaforth Publishing Ltd. (as above), 2012, £45 (hbk), ISBN 978-1848321304
Battleships were the ultimate icons of British power, massive symbols of imperial sway. They were also the largest
and most advanced engineering achievements of the age, home to crews that could be more than 1000 strong, and,
occasionally, massive archaeological artefacts. Originally published in 1986 and 1993 respectively, Ray Burt’s
books on the First World War and inter-war British battlefleet have been out of print for two decades, and
consequently hard to find. In the interval the author has updated the text and illustrations, making the new editions
a significant improvement. There are more than 50 new photographs, additional line drawings and textual revisions
in each book. The new metric format is slightly larger, and the reproduction crisper.
The First World War volume begins with the epochal Dreadnought and Invincible, the all-big-gun, turbine-
powered capital ships that defined the last era of big-gun warships. They were created by Admiral Sir John Fisher,
as part of a strategic revolution that realigned the Royal Navy to meet the German challenge, and ensure the
protection of the empire and the vital trade routes that linked Britain with her Colonies, Dominions and markets.
From 1906 to 1914 the development of the British capital ship saw an increase in gun calibre from 12-inch to
13.5-inch and then 15-inch, the move to oil-fired boilers, increased speed for battleships from 21 knots to 24, and
for battle cruisers from 26 to 29 knots, along with steadily thicker armour, and improved underwater protection.
In the process ships almost doubled in size, and cost. The Queen Elizabeth of 1915 was 10,000 tons larger than the
Dreadnought, four knots faster, and far more heavily armed—a ‘Super Dreadnought’.
By 1912 Britain had defeated Germany in a major naval arms race, having built more ships, and built them faster.
The decisive year was 1909, when Britain built eight capital ships, using all the resources of the world’s greatest
shipbuilding industry, the second and third largest armour and armaments companies, and the willingness of the
British taxpayer to sustain the legacy of Nelson. To reinforce the last point the fleet carried names made famous at
the Armada fight, and at Trafalgar. Three of the first four Dreadnought battleships carried Trafalgar names, the
fourth, HMS Superb, honoured a ‘74’ that fought in other battles, and only just missed the greatest battle because of
a refit! Every single battleship built while Fisher ran the Admiralty had a named steeped in history, recording great
battles, and the great Admirals who commanded. This was a deliberate attempt to reinforce Fisher’s overtly deterrent
posture. The German High Seas Fleet had to face 300 years of naval glory, and a much bigger fleet.
Consequently, when the First World War broke out in August 1914, there was little prospect of the High Seas
Fleet attempting to reach any high seas. By Christmas 1914 the Royal Navy had annihilated the German Navy
outside the North Sea, the crushing victory at the Falkland Islands on the 8th of that month reflecting British
control of global communications, and the strategic power of the new capital ships. The battle cruisers Invincible
and Inflexible had been sent from Britain to intercept Admiral von Spee’s ships. While von Spee was being crushed
the High Seas Fleet waited in harbour. It finally met the British Grand Fleet by accident on 31 May 1916, off the
coast of Jutland.
While many have argued that British ships were inferior to their German contemporaries in armour protection
and internal subdivision, Burt offers robust defence of well-designed, well-built ships that met the challenge of war.
Recent scholarship on the battle of Jutland, magazine protection and questions of gunnery fire control, which has
not been accessed for the revised edition, adds significantly to our understanding of the catastrophic loss of three
battle cruisers in that engagement. Andrew Gordon’s essential book The Rules of the Game of 1997 provides a vital
re-assessment of this much-studied action, and the systemic failings that occurred in command, communication
and procedure. Critically, several of the lightly armoured battle cruisers had removed part of the anti-flash
interlock system that prevented an explosion in the main working chamber of the heavy-gun turret from passing
© 2014 The Authors. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology © 2014 The Nautical Archaeology Society.
Published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd. 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA.
NAUTICAL ARCHAEOLOGY, 43.1
down into the magazine, and stacked bagged cordite charges in unsafe positions in the hoist passage, in an attempt
to increase the rate of fire. Invincible, Indefatigable and Queen Mary exploded and sank, killing almost the entire
crew in each case. Admiral David Beatty’s Battle Cruiser Fleet flagship HMS Lion survived, in large part because
the interlock system had been restored. While Jon Sumida and John Brooks have debated the merits of rival
fire-control systems, Burt points out that the British system, however imperfect, was far superior to the German.
That may explain why the British battleships, unlike the battle cruisers, comprehensively out-shot their opponents.
When all is said and done, the Germans ran for home, not the British. The economic blockade remained in place,
and Germany lost the war. Along with the three battle cruisers destroyed at Jutland two battleships were lost, HMS
Audacious, sunk by mines off the Irish coast in 1914, where she has become a popular dive site, and HMS Vanguard,
which blew up at Scapa Flow in 1917, probably as a result of the deterioration of her cordite charges. All five have
been dived, the battle-cruiser wrecks providing vital information to locate the action, and correct the locations
given on the day, when it had been impossible to see the sun.
Once peace broke out battleship construction was suspended, three battleships being built for Turkey and Chile
were taken over for the Royal Navy, and the five novel capital ships were built. After the Falkland Islands victory,
Fisher re-ordered two battleships as the battle cruisers Renown and Repulse, modernized versions of the Invincible,
mounting six 15-inch guns at 32 knots with no more armour than the inadequate level accorded to the Invincible
in 1905. Joining the Grand Fleet after Jutland they were viewed with some concern, but their speed and firepower
made them very useful. The even more astonishing light battle cruisers Courageous, Glorious and Furious were built
to fight in shallow water, the Baltic approaches, and took Fisher’s obsession with speed and heavy guns to the
extreme. HMS Furious mounted two 18-inch guns, weighing 150 tons apiece, and ranging out to 30,000 yards, the
largest naval artillery ever fitted to a British warship. She was converted into an aircraft carrier in 1917 and
launched the first successful carrier air strike against a land target, Zeppelin sheds at Tondern, in 1918. In
November 1918 the Grand Fleet took the surrender of the High Seas Fleet at sea, and sent it to endure the pleasures
of Scapa Flow in winter. Fisher’s fleet had triumphed. It was the biggest, and the best dreadnought fleet of the age,
a combination of numbers, speed, firepower and habitability that reflected the excellence of British design, the
resources of a huge shipbuilding and armaments industry, and the commitment of the British taxpayer to maintain
command of the sea. Twenty years later things were very different.
In setting the scene for the post-war volume, Burt assesses the Washington Treaty process of 1921–22, using a
letter the Chief Constructor, Sir Eustace Tennyson-D’Eyncourt, sent to Prime Minister David Lloyd George to
highlight his argument that the Treaty and the following naval armaments limitations treaties severely weakened
the Royal Navy and with that the entire structure of the British empire, the floating world of trade, capital flows
and resource exchanges, that alone sustained Britain as a world power. He predicted the impact of any construction
holiday on the defence industrial base, and the uniquely vulnerable position that Britain occupied. It is doubtful the
Prime Minister bothered to read the letter. Necessary or not, the 1922 process saw the British battlefleet shrink from
more than 60 units to a mere 15 between 1919 and 1931. With the exception of the new Nelson and Rodney, built
under the Treaty terms, these ships were of pre-Jutland design, with limited protection against very long-range shell
fire, or high-level bombing. They had little provision for anti-aircraft defence and by 1939 were approaching 25
years afloat, the effective service life they had been designed for.
After a useful chapter examining the lessons of the First World War, which highlighted the weaknesses of
existing designs, and the difficulty of upgrading them to face new threats, Burt examines the ships that remained
in service in the 1920s, the King George V and Iron Duke class battleships, and the battle cruiser Tiger. These were
all scrapped or disarmed in the 1930s, and unlike the case of Japan, none were restored to front-line service. That
said, the older ships saw considerable service, in the Russian Civil War, in the Chanak crisis with Turkey and
maintaining the British presence in the Mediterranean. They were refitted and modified in the 1920s, while
Centurion became a radio-controlled gunnery target, and the famous Iron Duke a gunnery training ship—she
spent the next war as a stationary headquarters at Scapa Flow, and survived German bombs. Centurion ended her
days as part of the D-Day breakwater. The remaining classes survived and served again. Some were completely
rebuilt, stripped back to bare hulls, given new machinery, improved horizontal protection and vastly improved
anti-aircraft firepower. Warspite, Valiant, Queen Elizabeth and the battle cruiser Renown provided the fleet with
effective modern capital ships while new ships were being built. The most radical transformations of the inter-war
era were the reconstructions of the light battle cruisers Courageous, Glorious and Furious as aircraft carriers,
covered by Burt in a 50-page section that highlights the value of integrating text, plans and photographs. These
strikingly ugly ships make a curious contrast with the elegant symmetry of their big-gun-armed contemporaries.
The role of the carrier was to find and fix the enemy fleet, using torpedo bombers, to set up a final battleship
action which the British expected to win. This combination accounted for the Bismarck in 1941, and dealt with
the Italian fleet as well.
The remaining unmodernized ships of the battlefleet were refitted and given limited upgrades—but by 1939 they
were showing their age. They gave good service between 1939 and 1943, but none remained in service when the war
ended, apart from Royal Sovereign, which had been lent to the Soviet Union as Archangelsk. During the war Royal
200 © 2014 The Authors. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology © 2014 The Nautical Archaeology Society
BOOK REVIEWS
Oak, Barham, Hood and Repulse were lost, and in the latter two cases the method of attack was one that they had
not been rebuilt to face. Burt’s incisive discussion of the loss of HMS Hood ends with a chilling indictment of
political failure by the then Director of Naval Construction, Sir Stanley Goodall. In his professional opinion
successive British Governments had been bluffing the world with ‘out-of-date’ capital ships, rather than paying the
price for modern, effective units. The ‘Mighty Hood’ icon of the Empire was a case in point. Her reconstruction had
been delayed too long. Once war broke out there was never going to be enough time to update the 45,000-ton
flagship for modern conditions. Hit by 15 shells at very long range her World War I protection proved inadequate.
That may be the overriding impression of this visually striking volume, while the image of British sea power was
as potent as ever, the substance was slipping, both against other navies with newer ships such as Bismarck, built in
violation of the Washington Treaty conditions, and the increasing menace of land-based aircraft.
The new King George V class ordered in 1936 and 1937 proved to be tough, durable vessels, hampered by their
14-inch main armament and strict adherence to the 35,000-ton Washington Treaty limits. They held the line against
the German battleships; Duke of York sank the Scharnhorst in the Royal Navy’s last battleship action. After that
the surviving units escorted aircraft carriers and bombarded beaches. The Prince of Wales, an unfortunate ship,
named for ex-King Edward VIII it should be noted, was sunk by a brilliantly executed air attack off Singapore in
December 1941, but King George V ended the war bombarding Tokyo. Burt’s assessment that they were the best
balanced of the 35,000-ton-treaty battleships is well meant, but the failure of the British Government to anticipate
the collapse of the Washington system, and the subsequent escalation that allowed the Americans to move back to
a 16-inch armament is suggestive.
Although not one of these iconic statements of British identity has survived intact—in contrast to the United
States where nine have been preserved—many British battleships survive as wrecks. Some, like Hood, Repulse and
Prince of Wales have been inspected and recorded, the first by the same ultra-deep-diving technology that was used
to film the Titanic. These massive ships retain much of the fascination that surrounded them in their prime, and few
will read these books without rekindling some of that visceral impact.
The information they contain has been drawn from primary sources, notably the Admiralty files at the National
Archives, Ship’s Covers at the National Maritime Museum and the papers of Vickers at Cambridge University
Library, along with older printed texts accessible in the 1980s. It would have been useful for other researchers if
references had been provided for quoted archival materials and texts. Both books are especially useful in following
changes in appearance, the constant technical modifications that occurred on these mighty vessels, the full-colour
camouflage sections are an obvious feature, but the systematic attention to detail is their key to the success of the
enterprise. It would be a surprise if there were any top-quality photographs of British dreadnoughts that were not
in these books! In sum these texts are essential for anyone attempting to understand, identify or locate British
capital ships between 1906 and 1945, to understand their design, service history, refits, modifications and other
career developments. The new edition makes this great body of work accessible, and improves on the original
editions in scale and presentation. They are a direct replacement for the ‘Dreadnought’ section of Oscar Parkes’
famous British Battleships: From Warrior to Vanguard of 1957, a pioneer naval technical history that Burt
celebrates in his Preface. While those who have the original editions of Burt’s books may not need to replace them,
anyone else interested in these great ships, as artefacts, emblems, machines and communities will find a space for
them alongside the other core text in the field, Alan Raven and John Robert’s superb design history British
Battleships of World War Two of 1976.
ANDREW LAMBERT
War Studies, King’s College London, England
The Oxford Handbook of Wetland Archaeology

F. MENOTTI and AIDAN O’SULLIVAN (Eds) with 59 Contributors
943 pp., 234 b&w illustrations and maps, 12 tables
Oxford University Press, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, 2012, £110 (hbk), ISBN 978-0199573493
I shall not attempt to define the term ‘wetland archaeology’ in three lines; it took a whole page for the editors to
do so successfully and accurately (p. 1). This ‘handbook’ consists of 54 chapters by 59 authors—too many to name.
Each chapter is on average 20 pages long; a length that enables an in-depth analysis of the theme covered, while at
the same time, obliges the authors to outline the main lines of research. Moreover, each chapter is followed by a
bibliography which gives further depth to its contents. The aim of this edited volume is, to say the least, ambitious,
as it seeks to cover archaeology worldwide. It therefore addresses a wide audience, allowing it to understand the
specific problems posed by waterlogged archaeological remains, or the absence of such remains due to the natural
© 2014 The Authors. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology © 2014 The Nautical Archaeology Society 201
decomposition of organic matter. If, as is usually the case with publications of this kind, specialists find the chapter
on their chosen subject overly brief, or query the examples chosen, other chapters will broaden or supplement their
knowledge. As far as students are concerned, the overview offered by this handbook should provide them with a
canvas into which they can fit their present and future knowledge, and will enlarge their horizons with information
about, for example, the habitats and sacred sites of New Zealand, prehistoric rice farming, DNA analysis, or site
recognition through remote-sensing techniques. This is the principal objective of the work; rather than being merely
a manual, it opens windows on new perspectives.
The work in general is characterized by the omnipresence of palaeo-environmental data and their evolution
through time. The fewer settlement sites with organic remains, either preserved or studied, within a region (such as
the Americas), the greater the accent put on palaeo-environmental data to elucidate frameworks in which popu-
lations developed once they had reached dry uplands, away from the specific problems posed by the temporary
presence of water (flood-plains and estuaries) or permanent inundation (marshlands and lakes). On the other hand,
regions rich in organic remains have often served as the basis for thematic research, as recounted in Part 2.
The challenge set was to limit the volume to 943 pages—it could include ten times more—while not reducing it
to a mere list of excavations and specialized studies. This, however, is the case for the chapter on Japan; although
the selection of sites and the sequence in which they are presented make the chapter particularly attractive. The
book is divided in eight parts, highlighting the diversity of approaches required by this field of research. It is this
very structure that, in my opinion, is the volume’s key strength.
Part 4 merits particular reference. It focuses on the multidisciplinary research that modern approaches to
archaeological sites as complex as those with organic remains require—an aspect that can never be sufficiently
stressed—that, in practice, still pose both scientific and financial challenges when faced with the imperatives of
‘rescue’ archaeology. Therefore, preservation, the in situ protection of exceptional cultural heritage, is a crucial issue.
It is even more important because we are not as yet capable of collecting, recording, or analysing the infinite wealth
and variety of remains (especially the smallest) found in waterlogged archaeological layers (Part 5). Preservation in
situ, therefore, will allow us to respond to future research questions through occasional excavation. In this respect,
it is of increasingly vital importance for scientists to provide high-quality information to a wide audience (Part 6 and
7), in order to preserve this cultural heritage. The present work undoubtedly contributes towards this aim.
Part 1 (one-quarter of the book) is arranged by region and presents promising research perspectives from the
Americas, Russia, China and Japan. Archaeological investigations in Australia, New Guinea, and New Zealand
foreshadow a significant enrichment of our knowledge and complement the often severely limited historical
accounts. As far as Africa is concerned, the major river valleys (important routes of communication on the
continent) but equally the African Great Lakes, offer almost unlimited research possibilities, in stark contrast to
Europe where rivers have been greatly disturbed by civil-engineering projects: dredging programmes to facilitate
the passage of increasingly large ships, construction of dams for hydro-electric generation, regulation and artificial
lowering of both lakes and the water-table, to name but a few.
Part 2, ‘Waterlogged archaeological evidence’, addresses more traditional archaeological investigations, such as
settlement sites (in particular the lake dwellings, or palafittes, and crannogs), the manufacture of bone and antler
artefacts, fish-traps and weirs, trackways, and submerged votive and ritual deposits. Part 3, ‘Survey and excava-
tion’, confronts the reader with the technical, strategic, scientific and human-resources problems that face archae-
ologists working the frontiers between terra firma and water—between the zones characterized by fluctuating soil
moisture (where organic remains do not survive) and permanently wet areas, such as at the water-table (where
organic matter is exceptionally preserved)—often in the difficult conditions of tidal zones, underwater excavations
in rivers where visibility can be only a few tens of centimetres, and so on. In addition, the fundamental contribution
of survey techniques, which have enabled the detection of archaeological sites, now allows different preservation
options to be considered including rescue operations, protection of archaeological layers from accidental destruc-
tion, erosion monitoring (the results of which would indicate when rescue excavations were called for), and the
evaluation of the scale of physical protection required.
Sadly, however, there is no mention of the research developments in this field that have taken place in the past
two or three decades—something that could have been covered in a few lines in the book’s general introduction
(Part 1. ch.1). Nor is there mention of the significant impetus that conferences and workshops have provided, nor
of the contribution of specialist periodicals such as The Journal of Wetland Archaeology. Only in the last chapter
(ch. 54) does the reader find this information. Let’s not forget that the ‘Prehistoric pile-dwellings around the Alps’
(p. 3)—111 sites in six countries—were granted a UNESCO World Heritage listing 27 June 2011 (http://
www.palafittes.org/fr/produits-downloads/dossier-de-nomination/index.html), which underlines the strategic
importance of preserving intact this large group of major prehistoric sites for the future.
Chapter 2 (Part 1), which deals in nine pages with ‘Wetland occupations in Prehistoric Europe’ from the
Mesolithic to the Iron Age, illustrates the problem of choosing subjects that have been already covered in several
hundred monographs and thousands of articles. This chapter is, obviously, too short and principally consists of a
catalogue of sites, bringing the reader little by way of enlightenment about the way of life and activities of these
BOOK REVIEWS
prehistoric populations—something that ch. 3 manages for the period AD 400–1500. This is all the more unfor-
tunate considering that ch. 2 is the first main chapter of the volume, which should attract the reader, and where the
author, F. Menotti, could have exploited information mentioned in chs 29–37 (Part 4), for instance, or in ch. 20,
especially since he is also one of the editors and so had an overall view of the volume. Of course, this remark does
not diminish the importance of the ‘handbook’, which could not only find a place in the archaeology section but
also in the natural sciences section of any library.
To conclude, it would have been impossible to present a synthesis or overview at the end of a work of this kind.
The editors chose therefore, to express the personal thoughts of Charles F. W. Higham and Bryony Coles, both
pioneering archaeologists in wetland archaeological research. As an epilogue we should hold on to Higham’s
dictum ‘it must not be forgotten that the entire point is the illumination of extinct human societies in all their
aspects’; also that the discoveries from wetland sites offer original insights without parallel.
BÉAT ARNOLD
Laténium, Neuchâtel; Switzerland
(translated from the French by Panagiota Markoulaki)
The Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean

ERIC H. CLINE (Ed.) with 61 Contributors
976 pp., 162 halftones, 11 line illustrations
Oxford University Press, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, 2010, £115, ISBN 978-0195365504
This 963-page book contains 66 articles organized into four sections. Part 1 sets the background with chapters on
the history of research, chronology and terminology. In Part 2 the reader receives a vertical overview of the region.
The 13 chapters begin with the Neolithic period and continue through the Early, Middle and Late Bronze ages.
Each of these subsections is further divided into chapters dealing separately with mainland Greece, the Cyclades
and Crete. The final subsection also contains a chapter dealing with the end of the Bronze Age in Crete.
Part 3 gives the reader a horizontal view of the issues, in the form of thematic topics. These are, again, divided
into subgroups dealing with art and architecture, with chapters on Minoan and Mycenaean (henceforth, M&M)
architecture, figurines and frescoes; ‘Society and Culture’, which includes chapters on state and society, M&M
religion, death/burial, trade and weapons. A third subsection, entitled ‘Seals and Writing/Administrative Systems’,
includes chapters on M&M seals and sealings, Cretan hieroglyphs, Linear A, Linear B and Cypro-Minoan. Crafts
are discussed under ‘Materials and Industry’ in five chapters covering M&M ceramics, textiles and jewelry. A final
subsection focuses on events, with chapters covering the Theran eruption, the Trojan War, and the great cultural
collapse that ended the Bronze Age.
The fourth and final part contains 29 chapters and focuses on seminal sites and regions for understanding the
epoch. These include a section on Crete with chapters on Ayia Triada, Kato Zakro, Khania (Kydonia), Knossos,
Kommos, Malia, Palaikastro and Phaistos. A second section on mainland Greece covers the Argolid, Boetia, the
central and southern Peloponnese, the northern Aegean, Lerna, Mycenae, Pylos, Thebes, Thorikos and Tiryns,
while a third section deals with the Cycladic, Dodecanese and Saronic islands and contains entries on Aegina
Kolonna, Akrotiri, the Dodecanese and Rhodes. The final subsection opens up to the wider Mediterranean world
and includes chapters on the Cape Gelidonya and Uluburun shipwrecks, Cyprus, Egypt, the Levant, Troy, western
Anatolia and the western Mediterranean.
Established scholars wrote many of the chapters. Interspersed with these are chapters by younger, but yet very
capable scholars. Each entry comes with a comprehensive and useful bibliography, making each one a good ‘go-to’
resource for initiating research on these subjects.
In general, handbooks, by their nature, do not make for inspired reading and in some places the chapters read
like long lists. This is understandable, and to be expected, when experts are trying to cram as much information as
possible into a defined word allowance, as is the case here. Given the book’s Brobdingnagian size I will touch below
only on some of those points that will be of greatest interest to IJNA readers.
S. Manning’s chapter on chronology (pp. 11–28) is a valuable overview of both the history of research and the
methodologies of determining dating systems for the Bronze Age Aegean. This should be read together with his
second chapter focusing on the eruption of Thera, which covers the different forms of evidence, as well as the
arguments and counterarguments for dating the eruption (pp. 457–74). When in time should we place the eruption
of Thera and with it the nautical iconography from the West House at Akrotiri? The eruption took place in the
latter part of the Cretan Late Minoan IA, but the question of absolute chronology remains perhaps the most hotly
debated issue in Aegean archaeology. Archaeometric evidence indicates a date in the late 17th century BC, while
other more traditional scholars eschew that evidence and argue for a considerably later date. Manning lays out the
arguments for the different sides of the dating but notes that anyone arguing for a date for the eruption later than
1530 BC must ‘ignore or dismiss the large body of high-quality radiocarbon evidence available. There is no
justification for this position’. So the date of Thera’s eruption remains unresolved.
B. E. Burns in his chapter on trade gives a good overview of the archaeological evidence of regional long-distance
exchange. He notes the problematic stratigraphical situation of some predynastic stone vessels found in the Aegean.
While some have seen these artefacts as evidence for early Aegeo-Egyptian contact, they are better understood as
evidence of ‘an antiquity trade during the Bronze Age’ as suggested by L. Pomerance in 1975, in a paper aptly
entitled ‘The Possible Rôle of Tomb Robbers and Viziers of the Eighteenth Dynasty in Confusing Minoan
Chronology’ (Antichità Cretesi I: 21–30, pls. IV–V.)
All the chapters in the section dealing with seals, writing and administration are recommended for a background
on the functioning of palace bureaucracies. It is good to have these overviews all in one volume for easy reference.
T. G. Palaima’s chapter on Linear B gives an excellent introduction to that script and contains a history of the
research and the state of knowledge to date of these fascinating documents. While the Linear B documents are
frustratingly laconic on trade and seafaring—as Palaima has documented elsewhere (Thalassa: L’Égée préhisto-
rique et la mer [1991], 273–310, pl. LXIII)—they are of extreme importance in contextualizing aspects of the
contemporaneous nautical milieu, and do give some narrow glimpses into Mycenaean seafaring. Given the fact that
these texts were basically palace receipts and survive only thanks to the conflagrations that burnt and hardened
them, it is truly remarkable what Mycenaenologists have been able to learn from them.
Tablets from Pylos (Vn 46 and Vn 879) possibly refer to timbers used for ship construction (p. 367), while three
other tablets (An1, An 610 and An 724) refer to ‘rowers’ in their title line (p. 360). One of these, An 1, lists the
collection of 30 oarsmen required for a single ship, presumably a triakonter, for a trip to Pleuron. What is particularly
interesting about this document is that rather than being recruited from a single site, the men are collected from five
settlements: J. T. Killen in a brilliant article referenced by Palaima has demonstrated that this list represents a type
of proportional call up, or conscription, from each of the locations listed which also appear in An 610.
N. Hirschfield’s chapter on the Cypro-Minoan script covers this enigmatic, and as yet, undeciphered script.
Readers should note her discussion of its distribution outside Cyprus (p. 379). As she has demonstrated in previous
publications, potmarks incised and carved on Aegean wares strongly suggest that this trade was in the hands of
merchants using ‘Cypriote bureaucratic methods to keep track of their wares’ (p. 379), in other words, Cypriot
traders.
The ‘Materials’ section contains a number of chapters that readers will find useful as starting points for the study
of different types of artefacts that may be encountered in excavations. I was awed by Doniert Evely’s ability, in this
section, to cover so much ground in such limited space (pp. 387–404).
The Trojan War is dealt with by T. Bryce, who notes wryly that Thucydides, in what appears to have been a
rounded-up figure, was off by 14 in giving the number of the Greek fleet at 1,200 instead of the actual 1,186
(p. 477). Details like this make the study of the past, and those who have transmitted it to us through their writing,
so much fun. Bryce also points out (pp. 480–1) how Troy has served as a rallying point by rulers of both east
(Xerxes) and west (Alexander the Great), as it represents the earliest clash of the cultural divide that continues to
this day. One can only ponder who among today’s states(wo)men wish to be standing atop Hisarlık and claiming
it as their own.
The period of turmoil that straddles the Bronze and Iron ages is one of the most complicated, most studied and
also the least understood. There are few periods with as many moving parts, which is what makes it is so interesting.
In O. Dickinson’s chapter on this perplexing period, he rightly warns that ‘it is a waste of effort to try to isolate a
single cause or prime mover for the Collapse’ (p. 489).
Readers should not miss the entry on Kommos, by Joe and Maria Shaw, the site’s excavators, as this was a
distinctly Cretan maritime settlement and shows much evidence of international connections. Note particularly the
discussion on the Late Minoan III period Building P, identified as a series of ship sheds (p. 548). Found here were
two eastern Mediterranean three-holed stone anchors, probably from Cyprus, in secondary use (see IJNA 24.4
[1995], 279–291). Notably, and to the Shaws’ credit, their fieldwork at Kommos has been completely published and
an excellent website contains materials from the various studies, as well as the excavation reports (https://
tspace.library.utoronto.ca/handle/1807/3004).
W. Gauss’s chapter on Aegina Kollona (pp. 737–51) can serve as a good background reference to anyone
studying the important ship representations from there, published by L. Basch (Mariner’s Mirror 72 [1986],
415–38).
The site of Trianda, described in the chapter on Rhodes by T. Marketou, represents a good example of overseas
expansion, first by the Minoans, followed by the Mycenaeans (pp. 779–88). The mechanism behind these popu-
lation movements, necessarily carried out in wood-planked hulls, remains, unfortunately, one of the least-discussed
aspects of Aegean culture: this deserves far more attention than it has received and would make an excellent PhD
dissertation topic.
BOOK REVIEWS
IJNA readers will find the section on the wider Mediterranean world of particular interest as, by their nature,
ships and seafaring belong to the world of inter-regional connectivity exemplified in the Bronze Age Aegean. The
chapters in this section fulfill the goal of bringing to the fore the main evidence for connections between the Aegean
and points east, south and west.
G. F. Bass’s ground- (water-?) breaking excavation of the shipwreck at Cape Gelidonya (sank c.1200 BC) in
1960 was a seminal event for nautical archaeology. It represented the first time that diving archaeologists carried
out an underwater excavation using the exacting methodologies of terrestrial archaeology. IJNA readers who are
not focused on Bronze Age studies may not be aware, however, of how Bass’s interpretation of his findings from
the shipwreck resulted in a literal sea change in our understanding of the identity of seafaring traders in the
eastern Mediterranean during the last centuries of the Bronze Age (pp. 800–1). Scholarship till then had assumed
that the appearance of Mycenaean pottery in the Levant indicated that Mycenaeans had done the trading on
Mycenaean ships. Bass concluded that the Gelidonya ship had been either Syro-Canaanite, or perhaps Cypriot.
This was a radical departure from prevailing opinions and, as science can be as dogmatic as religion, it took time,
as well as more evidence from other sources, to prove this paradigm shift, which is now accepted by the scholarly
community.
The Uluburun shipwreck (sank late 13th century BC) is undoubtedly the most important vessel for our
understanding of Bronze Age trade. This merchant trading ship has benefited from first Bass’s, and subsequently,
C. Pulak’s, meticulous excavation and the latter’s ongoing research, which has given us a true ‘porthole into the
past’. Pulak summarizes the artefacts uncovered and pulls together all the strands of evidence (pp. 862–76). He
concludes that the ship probably originated from a Syro-Canaanite site, and suggests Tell Abu Hawam, located
inside modern-day Haifa, Israel, as a likely candidate. Unfortunately, to be truly appreciated, the wealth of
artefacts contained on the shipwreck need to be seen, not just listed. For colour photos readers should go to Pulak’s
chapter in the Metropolitan Museum’s 2008 exhibition catalogue, Beyond Babylon (New York), or visit the
shipwreck’s virtual museum on the Institute of Archaeology’s (INA) website (http://nauticalarch.org [see under
projects]).
Now, everything comes at the expense of something else, so I do not envy E. Cline, the volume’s editor, in having
the Herculean task of deciding what subjects to cover in the book at chapter length and which to leave out. Each
of us, in his place, would vary on the weight we placed on the importance of some topics versus others. That having
been said, this book could have benefited from one or more chapters dealing specifically with seafaring.
This volume is clearly a terrestrial-based view of the Aegean Bronze Age. The topic of ships and seafaring in the
book is limited almost entirely to the chapters on the Uluburun and Cape Gelidonya shipwrecks neither of which,
it is worth pointing out, actually sank in the Aegean. Undoubtedly, these wrecks are crucial to our understanding
of trade as practised in the latter part of the Late Bronze Age and deserve their place in this book. But there is
more—much more—to seafaring in the Bronze Age Aegean and to a large degree that is missing here, beyond short
descriptions interspersed among the chapters. It is difficult to underplay the importance of ships and seafaring in
the evolution of Aegean Bronze Age societies, particularly in the second millennium, and yet this book glosses over
this crucial aspect of society: in fact, the term ‘seafaring’ does not even appear in the comprehensive index. From
a purely nautical perspective the result is a somewhat Flatlander’s view of the Aegean Bronze Age.
While chapters cover contacts east, south and west of the Aegean, the book, somewhat surprisingly, lacks a
chapter with a view to interactions with Europe, indicated by the sharing of sword technologies, the amber trade,
ship iconography and other forms of evidence. This is all the more needed now that copper from Cyprus has been
identified in Swedish(!) Bronze Age artefacts (Journal of Archaeological Science 41 [2014]: 120 Table 3, 121).
Also, the book could have been made much more ‘user-friendly’. It would have benefited from a series of maps,
placed at the beginning of the book, which displayed all the sites, regions and locations mentioned in the text. A
few of the entries do include maps (for example Boeotia, figs. 46.1–3), but these, unfortunately, are exceptions
rather than the rule. Also, there are relatively few images per entry and some of the site plans have been reduced
to the point that the details are lost. Try, for example, to locate the sea ‘road’ referenced on p. 545 on the opposing
Kommos site plan (fig. 41.1) without the aid of a magnifying glass.
True, it would have been difficult in a book this size to add many more illustrations. Today, however, alternate
solutions exist. For a limited investment Oxford University Press could have generated a companion website and
populated it with as many high-resolution colour and B&W photos, plans and maps as the chapters’ authors wished
to provide in order to illustrate their chapters.
This is reminiscent of the situation at the turn of the 20th century. When Sir Arthur Evans began excavations at
Knossos in 1900 he documented his work—thankfully!—with a, then, new-fangled invention, a camera: but when
W. M. F. Petrie sent his assistants to excavate tombs at Gurob at the entrance to Egypt’s Fayum in 1920, they went
into the field without one. Thus, anyone working on materials from that exploration, as I have done, is left today
without any photographs at all from that field season. We seem to have here a similar ‘Evans-Petrie Retrograde
Paradigm Shift’. The editors of a prestigious series at one of the leading university presses have published here a
book of such high quality and calibre that—no doubt about it—it will serve as an excellent source of information
for almost all things Bronze Age Aegean for many years to come, but have chosen to leave it ‘visually impaired’
despite the fact that the technology to supply the necessary imagery has been readily available in a financially viable
manner for quite some time.
In summary, this book is an excellent resource for a basic understanding of any of the topics covered and serves
as a valuable compendium: it should be on the bookshelf of anyone interested in the Bronze Age Mediterranean.
For the record, it was on mine even before I was asked to do this review. I recommend this book subject to the
comments above.
SHELLEY WACHSMANN
Texas A&M University, USA
Britain Begins
BARRY CUNLIFFE
553 pp., 140 colour and b&w photos, 152 maps and figs
Oxford University Press, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, 2013, £30/$45 (hbk), ISBN 978-0199609338
Throughout his writings, Barry Cunliffe, Professor of European Archaeology at the University of Oxford from
1972 to 2008, has stressed the agency of the sea as instrumental in establishing and sustaining human occupation
in Western Europe over 12,000 years or so since the retreat of the last ice sheets (see Facing the Oceans, OUP 2001).
In Britain Begins, Cunliffe investigates the shifting populations of Britain through to the Norman Conquest as
islanders. Drawing on the latest archaeological results, together with new DNA and other laboratory evidence, the
author identifies the first human groups to re-colonize these islands and follows the successive waves of immigrants,
their origins and how they related to each other. Underpinning this epic narrative is the sea, which supported
transport and communication with the continent of Europe.
The book begins with a famous line from Tacitus’s Agricola (10): ‘nowhere does the sea hold wider sway: it
carries to and fro in its motion a mass of tidal current and in its ebb and flow it does not stop at the coast but
penetrates deep inland’. Over the millennia the sea has both separated and connected Britain to the European
continent. Cunliffe consolidates the latest scientific evidence to tell us about Britain of the early Holocene, which
was still connected at around 9000 BC to the European landmass via an expanse of low-lying land now named
‘Doggerland’ (after the Dogger Bank). Gradually, with the retreat of the ice sheet, this landscape became sub-
merged by what is now the North Sea at some point around 5800–5400 BC, and it is possible that the Channel-
to-North-Sea connection turning Britain into an island, was not fully established until 3800 BC, leaving behind
islands of Doggerland that were not submerged until late into prehistory. Recently marine exploration has found
traces of the hunter-gatherer populations and game herds that roamed across the forested plain of Doggerland for
more than four millennia. Cunliffe invests great care in charting the developing coastline of the British Isles through
prehistory, a coastline he is at pains to point out is still subject to change.
A central theme of Cunliffe’s thesis is the mobility of human populations and their ability ‘to colonize virtually
every ecological niche’. For much of the Palaeolithic and Mesolithic eras we see a dynamic relationship between
changes to the British landscape, its ecosystem and climatic conditions, and human occupation. The Atlantic
seaways were a critical factor in the spread of the first Mesolithic fishing and hunting communities in western
Scotland. Archaeological distributions of stone of restricted origin for the making of tools along the Atlantic coast
in Scotland demonstrate the early importance of the sea as a ‘corridor of communication’. The sea as an agent of
technical and cultural transfer is developed as a core theme of the British Neolithic. The discovery of domesticated
animals in Mesolithic contexts in Ireland is explained through the maritime connection between Atlantic France
and the British Isles. The spread of Neolithic agriculture and sedentary ‘lifeways’ into western France are explained
by influences of central European impressed pottery cultures moving along central European river-ways and along
the Mediterranean coastline.
Tracing mobility in early European populations relies increasingly on the study of genetics. Cunliffe traces seven
distinct groups as female lineages based on mitochondrial DNA. The definition of these maternal bloodlines,
together with paternal clans (haplotypes), creates a history of population movement, including patterns of earliest
settlement in Britain and Ireland. The frequency of the genetic haplogroup R1b in Europe, suggests it may have
originated in northern Iberia and spread along the Atlantic fringe of Europe at the end of the last Ice Age. In
addition, latest advances in strontium-isotope ratios in early populations, which vary according to geology and also
the age of the individual, offer an insight into the mobility of early peoples. For instance, strontium-isotope
readings in tooth enamel match those of the area where the individual grew up. Variation in these readings in the
bone tissue, which is replaced during life, would indicate that a person had migrated during his or her lifetime. The
technique is being employed widely to trace the long-distance movement of Bell Beaker populations in third
BOOK REVIEWS
millennium central Europe. DNA and chemical analysis of the appearance of new gene lines reveal the direction
and spread of the Mesolithic-Neolithic transition in Britain around 4100–3800 BC, possibly linked to climatic
changes favouring the cultivation of cereals. Cunliffe describes the acculturation of Neolithic farmers and coastal
Mesolithic populations along the French and Belgian coasts giving rise to ‘multi-skilled communities’ to whom
crossing the Channel to establish pioneer farming settlements would have offered no challenge. It is likely that
cross-Channel cultural contact in the British Neolithic was frequent. But the evidence is greater for the maintenance
of the Atlantic seaways, where at around 3000 BC the people building passage graves in Ireland, North Wales and
Orkney were linked through the sharing of knowledge, values and beliefs.
The role of the seaways in maintaining connectivity between prehistoric populations in Britain, Ireland and
Western Europe continues as a central strand in Britain Begins. As mobility increased over the course of the
Neolithic-Bronze Age interface, more people crossed into southern and eastern Britain, bringing new ideologies,
such as the Beaker culture, with them: ‘In this highly mobile world, mastery of the sea became an imperative:
shipbuilding technologies improved, and power began to be expressed in terms of the ability to acquire rare raw
materials brought from far’. But over the thousand years from 2500 to 1500 BC the nature of that mobility changed
from initial exploration, to population movement and settlement, to elite adventuring, and finally to ‘the more
mundane world of the trader’.
The Middle and Late Bronze Age between c.1500 and c.800 BC was a time of ‘dramatic change’. Throughout
Britain communities shared in a widely available array of elite metalwork, both bronze and gold, produced by
specialists and traded over long distances. The first half of the second millennium is a period rich in maritime
archaeology. Seven sewn-plank vessels have so far been identified in British estuaries, while evidence on the
long-distance bulk trade in metalwork is visible in several offshore finds, generally interpreted as wrecked cargo.
The spectacular Langdon Bay find of northern French tools and weapons from beneath the chalk cliffs of Dover
is illustrated.
There is much to interest the maritime or coastal archaeologist in the subsequent chapters charting the violent
conflicts of the Iron Age, the ‘Roman episode’ and the post-Roman migrations. This is familiar territory but
Cunliffe stresses the geopolitical realities of settlement, population movement and cultural change. The author
notes that the Channel zone would have been alive with shipping throughout the Roman and immediate post-
Roman periods, with Roman freighters and their naval escorts plying between British North Sea ports and the
mouth of the Rhine replaced by ‘Saxon pirates’ and the first boat-loads of immigrants from the continental
coast-lands. The late 5th and early 6th centuries also saw the intensification of cross-Channel trade between Kent
and the early Frankish kingdoms. Cunliffe also gives particular attention to the vital role of the Atlantic sea-lanes
in facilitating the spread of Christianity and monasticism into western Britain between the 5th and 7th centuries.
Britain Begins offers a sweeping narrative over 12 millennia of human exploration, migration, colonization and
cultural exchange around the archipelago of islands on the fringes of the European continent. The author
summarizes: ‘The restless nature of humankind and the ever-present sea created a population for which mobility
was a defining characteristic.’ Few archaeologists have the breadth of knowledge or the nerve to write on such a
canvas and Sir Barry Cunliffe has created an up-to-the-minute and accessible snapshot of recent advances in
excavated data and palaeobiological research for both his profession and the general reader.
DAVID GAIMSTER
The Hunterian Museum, University of Glasgow, Scotland
Navigated Spaces, Connected Places: Proceedings of Red Sea Project V held at the
University of Exeter, 16–19 September 2010
BAR International Series 2346 & BFSA Monograph 12
DIONISUS A. AGIUS, JOHN P. COOPER, ATHENA TRAKADAS and CHIARA ZAZZARO (Eds) with
many Contributors
249 + xvii pp., 143 b&w figs, 12 tables
Archeopress for BAR, Gordon House, 276 Banbury Road, Oxford, OX2 7ED, 2012, £42 (sbk),
ISBN 978-1407309293
The series of Red Sea conferences, from the fifth of which the volume under review emanates, was initiated in 2002
by the Society for Arabian Studies (now the British Foundation for the Study of Arabia—BFSA). The motive behind
the series was to look at the world beyond the immediate Arabian peninsula, in particular to links with Africa, with
the Mediterranean and with the Indian Ocean, thereby establishing the waterway’s crucial role in bringing the
Arabian peninsula into a wider geographical context. It has proved immensely stimulating in bringing together
scholars of a wide range of disciplines—archaeology, prehistory, history, marine culture and the environment.
The title of each volume has always remained loose, dependent on the papers submitted and accepted for
publication (‘conference themes are best worn lightly’, apologize the editors in the ‘Introduction’). In the case of
Navigated Spaces, Connected Places, the editors themselves represent a range of disciplines: marine societies today
and yesterday, marine archaeology, and an occasional touch of environmentalism. Papers are grouped analytically:
recollections; early navigation and contact; the sea in classical antiquity; from the Classical to the Islamic; a whole
section on the one-time-major African port of Suakin; and, finally, people and the environment in the Red Sea
region. ‘Recollections’ includes a paper by Jennie Balfour Paul comparing her experiences on a modern container
vessel with those of the mid-19th-century traveller Thomas Machell, giving us an absorbing insight into the
mechanics of life at sea today as well as setting the scene for far older experiences. The bias has tended to be towards
the African seaboard, the Arabian historically less accessible, less explored, although this slant is beginning to
improve as Saudi institutions become more receptive to foreign scholarship and field research, and thereby also
encouraging Saudi nationals to participate.
Studies of the Red Sea tend to fall into one of two categories: a more local one concerned with contacts
between either shore; and a wider regional one concerned with communications between Indian Ocean and
Mediterranean. In the latter case, links between Red Sea and Nile are significant because prevailing northerly
winds led to the development of alternative routes via the Nile (see Facey, Proceedings I, pp. 7–18). Excavators
at Old Cairo for instance, well described by Peter Sheehan in his paper on Egyptian Babylon, found a wide range
of ceramics from the Aegean, Syria/Palestine and Phoenicia.
The long-term rise and fall of actual Red Sea ports are described in several papers in the ‘Early Navigation’
section. A major site, where archaeological investigation has been stimulated by the search for the incense-
producing Land of Punt, has been Mersa/Wadi Gawasis on the Egyptian coast south of the Gulf of Suez, used in
the late 3rd and early 2nd millennium BC; Andrea Manzio summarizes ceramic finds from there, the majority from
the region, either Nubian or the south Arabian shore; while in another paper archaeologists have established a
sea-going Egyptian vessel (until recently it was assumed the Egyptians kept their sailing to the Nile). Cheryl Ward
discusses in detail the construction of a 30-ton vessel (in Rosetta) using Lebanese cedar and ancient Nile boat-
building techniques, based on material excavated at Gawasis, the vessel was then carried across the Egyptian desert
to be proved seaworthy in a week of sea trials. Ancient Egyptians were clearly capable of long-range sea voyages.
Another ancient harbour on the Egyptian coast is Ayn Sukhna, a hot-spring harbour excavated from 2001 by a
French team, here described by Pierre Tallet that is very roughly dated 3rd–2nd millennium BC. A fragmentary
inscription of that date plus the remains of boats there indicate the harbour may have been used to cross the Gulf
of Suez to turquoise mines in the Sinai peninsula.
Leading on from these discussions of the northern Red Sea, Rudolfo Fattovich provides a seminal overview of
the southern Red Sea in the 3rd and 2nd millennia BC and interactions between Africa and Arabia over that
timescale. An ‘uncertain’ pattern of African obsidian trade emerges in south-west Arabia but not much else largely,
however, due to limited archaeology from either side. The Eritrean port of Adulis is now under excavation (it
featured in the 6th Red Sea conference held in March 2013 in Saudi Arabia). A map of the whole region would have
been useful here. Slowly, thanks to archaeological labours, a picture is building up of historical activity up and
down the waterway, these Red Sea conferences helping to publicize a chronology of mostly economic activity.
Roger Blench looks at the ‘semiticisation’ of the Arabian peninsula. He notes the diversity of languages spoken
by early (6th millennium BC?) inhabitants, through the medium of livestock names outlined in a series of
comparative tables. Possibly migrants from the north-east into Arabia culturally transformed the language of the
local population. A lot more work is being done today on the early spoken languages of Arabia, although rather
sadly epigraphy is not represented in these Proceedings.
‘Classical antiquity’ includes a review by Oscar Nalesini of Greek texts referring to Red Sea coastal cultures,
concluding that a network of continuous cultural exchange existed around the Arabian peninsula even before the
development of long-distance trade of the first state societies. Maritime trade in antiquity has been relatively well
explored but increasingly benefits from the exploration of shipwrecks; alliances with recreational deep-sea divers
are always useful and encouraged by various centres for maritime archaeology (notably in Alexandria and
Southampton).
Papers on the medieval period include ‘The Fatimids and the Red Sea’, illustrated with an excellent map that
highlights the better-watered African littoral compared with the Arabian. The author, David Bramoullé, asks how
much the Fatimids of Egypt in the 11th century were interested in the Red Sea for trade or for proselytising their
particular version of Imamate Islam; he concludes that the Fatimids began with ideology but by this time they were
going all out for trade.
Boatbuilding and ‘navigation’ practices have been a valuable part of these Red Sea conferences, here described
by Julian Whitewright, in particular the lateen sail; he also applauds the master navigators/mu’allim especially the
15th-century navigator Ibn Majid (he who led the Portuguese into the Indian Ocean). These were the professionals,
BOOK REVIEWS
here given due credit for their mastery of the waterways. Another whole section is devoted to the (now Sudanese)
port of Suakin; this is very much an on-going project, partly financed and supported by the Sudanese government,
and once again a topic in Red Sea 6.
It is difficult in a review of this nature to do full justice to all the papers. There are so many facets to the story
of the Red Sea as a major link between Arabia and Africa, as well as between the Mediterranean and Indian Ocean
worlds; conferences such as Navigated Spaces add a whole range of new dimensions to the study of the region and
it is satisfying to look forward both to publication of the Red Sea 6 Proceedings, as well as to the promised Red
Sea 7 conference in Naples in 2015. Two small quibbles for the attention of the next lot of editors: MAPS, MAPS,
MAPS and at least one with all major sites marked. And, Egyptologists, please note that not everyone knows the
dates of pharaonic dynasties and kingdoms!
SARAH SEARIGHT
Lambeth, London
Geoarchaeology of Lebanon’s Ancient Harbours

Bar International Series S-1953
NICK MARRINER
305 pp., 251 grey-scale illustrations, many maps
Archaeopress for BAR, Gordon House, 276 Banbury Road, Oxford OX2 7ED, 2009, £50 (sbk),
ISBN 978 1407304366
This publication describes a detailed multidisciplinary research project into the physical history of three harbours
in Lebanon: Tyre, Sidon and Beirut. These harbours have been subject to changes by nature and man for about
8000 years. Evidence of their existence, shape and structural changes is at least partially buried under modern urban
development, through dredging works since antiquity, and by silting. The study combines geomorphological
methods and coring with biological and geological analyses, coordinated with the archaeological data, historical
background, and the regional (Levant) context.
The basic research methods are well known, but their thorough and methodical application is an example for
similar studies. The comparative study with Marseilles, Alexandria, Naples and the ancient harbours in Israel, adds
significantly to the robustness of the conclusions. The study concentrates on the geomorphological research;
however, to obtain a wider picture, archaeological excavations in a few selected, accessible points are recommended
in the future. This book should be one of the basic publications in any library of harbour/geomorphological research.
The ‘Introduction’ is extensive and methodical. The history of harbour archaeology is well presented. The
importance of a multidisciplinary approach combining shipwreck and harbour archaeology is emphasized.
Tyre harbour research is the most detailed and extensive in the book (Chs 2 and 3, pp. 49–157). It is a diligent
geomorphological research: background, methods, proper treatment and recording of cores, multidisciplinary
study (including archaeology, history and fauna), results and conclusions. The methodical description along a time
scale from 8000 BP is convincing, including the interpretation of the very well-protected Byzantine harbour. The
careful and modest approach, where besides the interpretations and conclusions, Marriner suggests further future
work to solve some of the questions, is appreciated.
The model used for understanding the conditions in the shelter of Tyre Island of 5500 BP, based on the local
characteristics of the swell and core analysis, and emphasizing the effects of the west and north-west winds,
presents a clear picture. However, in swell conditions the suggested anchorage would have suffered from currents
and waves, and could have been a little rough for small boats (p. 65, and fig. 3.44). The Bronze Age and Iron
Age anchorages north and south of Tyre need further study, and the recommended future archaeological work
makes sense. Raban’s pioneering work and brilliant ideas could serve as working hypotheses, to be re-examined
by young scholars with modern tools (pp. 152–6, 198). The reviewer agrees with the doubts of the author on the
effectiveness of channels in preventing sedimentation (p. 134, and also his comment regarding Sidon, p. 180).
The change in maritime trade following the Islamic invasions (p. 132) requires a reference (for example Pirenne,
see p. 220). The southern harbour, suggested by Poidebard, and rejected by the author’s research (p. 147) (or a
drowned city as suggested by others) was examined using two short cores. This subject could be further exam-
ined, as suggested by the author (p. 152), by underwater archaeology, using the results of this research to locate
the best excavation site.
Sidon harbour research, reported in Ch. 4 (pp. 159–86), is a convincing presentation of a thorough study based
on 15 cores (three off-shore). The text is well explained and figures are clear. The suggested proto-harbour of the
Bronze Age Sidon at the northern cove is substantial. It is the natural sheltering place, where even in modern times
boats are beached and larger harbours are developed (for instance Haifa and Beirut). This is also valid for Beirut’s
ancient anchorages (p. 212). The author’s geoarchaeology-based interpretation of the existence of an important
port during the Byzantine period is interesting, as is his view of the Byzantine period of ‘advanced port infrastruc-
ture and management techniques’ (p. 182). By the way, fig. 4.8 (p. 165) is similar to rock carvings at Dor, Israel, it
might be noted.
The research of Beirut’s ancient harbours, which have been active for about 5000 years, is described in Ch. 5 (pp.
187–213), and is based on 20 cores and additional archaeological data (excavated by others). The study of the
palaeo-environment, which goes back 6000 years, the main anchorage, and the chronology of the evolution of the
three harbours, is complicated by urbanization and the development of the modern harbour. Marriner recom-
mends further stratigraphic research and archaeological excavation, in addition to that carried out hitherto, mainly
of Bronze Age and Iron Age anchorages.
In Ch. 6 (pp. 215–57), the information about the three harbours (Tyre, Sidon and Beirut) is collated and
coordinated, and linked to the larger Levant context. It compares the development of the harbours from their basic
natural geological locations through the dynamics of the environmental-physical features and the intervention of
man. It concludes that there are many similarities in the chronostratigraphy of the three harbours (p. 216). Little
evidence of human activity from the Bronze Age was recorded, implying that the natural, partially protected coves
served the maritime activities of small vessels, and larger craft used lighter services (pp. 216, 218). There is evidence
of advanced man-made structures in the Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine periods. The catalyst for the under-
water construction works during the Roman period was the invention of hydraulic concrete—extensive research
into which has been conducted by Brandon, Oleson, Hohlfelder and others (Oleson et al., 2004, The ROMACONS
Project, IJNA 33.2: 199–229).
At the beginning of the Byzantine period the three harbours were prosperous, as is evident by the sediment in the
ports which indicates well-protected water (pp. 220, 227). During the Islamic conquests, coarse-grained sand and
silting is evidence of a significant decrease in the use of the three ports. The author has integrated the historical
sources, and has given an unusual explanation of this abandonment: the Levant coast had become the cradle of
Islamic maritime enterprise, but with other ports being preferred (p. 221).
The author is right in his careful approach to the influence of climate on social changes (p. 227). Four different
types of harbours are defined by their construction, and three different stratigraphic types—although some
inconsistencies in the granularity and biostratigraphy were found. The reviewer suggests that interpretation of
changes in the coastline should be considered part of the annual cycle of sand movement on and off shore (Fig. 6.30
and p. 238). Nile sediment is absent in the three harbours, as expected: it occurs along the Israeli coast only as far
north as Akko. Local fluvial systems, and erosion of coastal cliffs by sea and winds, contribute to the sediments.
The geochemistry study is very welcome, but further multidisciplinary research is required, as it draws attention to
more data traditionally neglected. However, as for lead (pp. 37, 248), it can be recycled, and in some environments
can degrade (see Frost, H., 1981, Lilybaeum [Marsala]—The Punic Ship, Rome, pp. 25, 130).
The research approach: from minute finds to preserving the Lebanon’s coastal heritage, is right and valuable. As
to the looting of archaeological material (see also Raban and Kahanov, 2003, IJNA 32.1: 61–72).
The book ends with conclusions and recommendations for future research (pp. 289–91). The idea of further
study of Athlit is correct—the reviewer has some doubts as to the interpretation of the wood fragments from Athlit
on which the radiocarbon dating is based (p. 39). Movement of lighters from Athlit up to Sidon seems slightly too
ambitious (p. 131).
The recommended field of future research at Akko does not concur with recent thoughts of E. Stern, the
archaeologist of Akko for the past 20 years. However a study of the close vicinity is planned by Stern (pers. comm.,
2013). We hope that a comparative regional study of Acre and Sidon, Athlit and Tyre by combined Lebanese and
Israeli expeditions may be possible some day.
The bibliographical list is comprehensive, perhaps in a few cases slightly too liberal: page numbers in books are
mostly missing. Casson, L., 1995, Ships and Seamanship (or its earlier edition 1971) should be used rather than the
1994 British Museum publication. The PhD dissertation of L. Blue (1996) on the second-millennium-BC harbours
of the eastern Mediterranean (Oxford), deserves mention, as does Raban’s, 1995, comprehensive publication ‘Dor
Yam: Maritime and Coastal Installation at Dor’, in E. Stern (ed.) Excavations at Dor, Final Report, Qedem Reports
1, 285–354, Jerusalem. The lack of an index is also regretted.
Some other omissions and technical points follow: a description of the equipment used would have contributed
to the whole understanding of the research. The map, fig. 1.8, p. 13, although ‘non-exhaustive’, should include
southern Turkey, the eastern shore of Bulgaria, the eastern Adriatic, and the Gulf of Argolis. At fig. 1.22, p. 28,
Nicolaou 1976, not 1973, is correct. The upper-left picture in fig. 3.26, p. 129, seems to be a view from south to
north, thus the alleged Bronze Age quay is not shown. Page 132, right column, Brandon (not Branton), and the
harbour of Caesarea (not Casaerea, see fig. 1.8) was built at the end of the 1st century BC (not AD). Page 131, right
column, 2nd paragraph, perhaps ‘Figure 3.23’ instead of ‘3.21’?
Understanding some of the figures, originally in colour, is difficult (such as figs 2.10 [caption missing]; 2.15; 5.6
and 6.35). Expanding some captions and clarifying explanatory notes would contribute to better understanding in
BOOK REVIEWS
Chs 3, 4 and 5, and fig. 1.6 upper section, for instance; also to help understand the ancient harbour, tell and
place-names—nine figures concerning these: 3.5, 3.9, 3.21, 3.25, 3.43, 4.2, 4.4 pt B, 5.4 and 5.12.
In the Tyre chapters: very few Bronze Age shipwrecks have been discovered and the author’s note as to the
unequivocal dating of moles and quays along the Israeli coast to the Bronze Age (p. 126), is correct. The majority
of Egyptian ships were river vessels; only a few were seagoing.
Finally there is some confusion over the use of the hyphen and the dash. Nevertheless, this book (I repeat) should
be on the shelf of any library concerned with harbour or geomorphological research.
YAACOV KAHANOV
Leon Recanati Institute for Maritime Studies, University of Haifa, Israel
Prehistoria de la Navegación: origen y desarrollo de la arquitectura naval primigenia

BAR International Series S-1952
VÍCTOR M. GUERRERO AYUSO

xii + 352 pp., illustrated throughout with figures, maps, tables, drawings and photographs
ISBN 978-1407304359
El catálogo de las naves de Occidente: embarcaciones de la Península Ibérica,

Marruecos y archipiélagos aledaños hasta el principado de Augusto
JORGE GARCÍA CARDIEL

245 pp., 177 b&w figures, 15 maps, illustrated glossary
Archaeopress for BAR (as above), 2013, £38 (sbk), ISBN 978-1407310701
These two substantial volumes in Spanish are well written and produced, and show evidence of extensive schol-
arship by the authors; though they are concerned with overlapping subjects, they are in fact rather different, though
each has its own virtues.
‘The Prehistory of Navigation’ by Victor Guerrero is, as the author explains, the fruit of a long and industrious
study of the subject. The book is well structured, clearly written, fully documented, and complemented by an
impressive assemblage of illustrations. Guerrero makes no concession to non-hispanophones, but does include an
excellent, comprehensive nautical glossary with English, French and Italian equivalents which is a great help to
international understanding. The author and the publisher between them have succeeded in avoiding the muddy
reproductions which often afflict British Archaeological Reports; the illustrations are also well-organized and fully
correlated, so anyone interested should be able to track down a particular topic.
Guerrero is, as one would expect in the 21st century, a confirmed anti-diffusionist; on the other hand, he is at
heart a prehistorian and archaeologist rather than a nautical historian or historical triumphalist. It is interesting to
compare this book, its narratives anchored by radiocarbon dates, with the heroic efforts of Landström, Johnstone
or Greenhill half a century ago. Guerrero is evidently not a habitué of ISBSA, nor does he cite the work of Seán
McGrail more than occasionally—and most readers, will, in this reviewer’s opinion, find this a weakness; on the
other hand, he has an impressive record of fieldwork, teaching and research, and there are insights in this book on
which others can and should build.
After an introductory chapter, Guerrero deals with: navigation on rafts; boats with a monoxyle hull; hulls of
papyrus and reeds; basket-boats and skin-boats; bark canoes; and the first plank boats (mostly Egyptian and
Mesopotamian). The evidence is, of course, mostly inferential—rock-engravings and paintings, ceramic and other
models, and ethnographic comparisons. Although the author marshals his material carefully, ultimately this
reviewer feels a lack of the analysis, the systematic approach, so well developed by McGrail. The feeling is of a
well-organized scrapbook, but not a work in which hypotheses or even reconstructions bring a point to each
section. One must also say that the author has a very limited definition of ‘prehistory’, and (for example) pays little
attention to the plentiful evidence for skin-boats in NW Europe, or to the many known and carefully recorded
prehistoric logboats from many regions.
That said, the hispanophonic reader will find a great deal of interest here, and this reviewer spotted few errors.
The very full ethnographic sections are an excellent source of specimens for the student, though certainly (as far as
the UK is concerned) they highlight the lack of an easily accessible collection of the boats which here appear in
photos from around the world. Full of good sense, and with a fine bibliography, this volume is a worthwhile
contribution to the literature of nautical archaeology.
The second book to be reviewed here is ‘The Catalogue of Western Ships’ by Jorge García Cardiel. His remit is
the Iberian Peninsula, together with the NW African coast and the Canary Islands, until the reign of Augustus (the
turn of the Era). The author’s innovative intention is to combine iconography, objects and historical references in
a unified catalogue: it is unclear (at least to this reviewer) how this has contributed to our understanding of
prehistoric (and early historic) maritime activity.
The volume is evidently the product of much hard work; it has a well-presented bibliography, some helpful
maps, and plenty of illustrations. Unfortunately, neither the artwork nor the reproduction of many of the
illustrations is very good, and furthermore there is no cross-reference in the catalogue entries to the figure
numbers, and the order in which the catalogue entries are arranged is not clear. Although the author gives a full
list of published references under each catalogue entry, it seems that he has followed his own volition, rather than
the arguments of others, in assessing questions of date or function. Thus, to take just one example, under the
heading ‘Mazarrón 1’ he lists an object, long since cut into pieces and disposed of, which he follows a publication
of 1967 in identifying as the lead stock and some wooden fragments of what he claims to be the earliest-known
composite anchor. The original publication identified markings on the supposed stock as Punic, of the 9th
century BC, and García accepts this dating, even though at least one later publication has questioned the date
and reading of the epigraphy, and the reconstruction drawing of the fragmented, lost anchor-stock bears little
resemblance to other well-documented lead stocks from the Mediterranean and elsewhere. In fact, the general
development of composite anchors in the Mediterranean region is now well understood, and much stronger
evidence is needed to accept the very early date assigned by the author to this supposed anchor. This is just one
example of how the author’s reading and field experience are lacking, for all his energetic collection and careful
arrangement of his subject-matter.
Of course, much of the book is concerned, not with artefacts from sites (whether on land or under water), but
with iconography; there are some well-known images of boats (or supposed boats) on coins and pottery, as well as
plentiful drawings of rock-engravings. Some of the last-named images, especially from the Canary Islands, are
unfamiliar (at least to this reader), but there is a disappointing lack of argument over their date—let alone their
interpretation.
Overall, this catalogue is an impressive collection of material by a young scholar, but nautical archaeologists will
find that he shows inadequate knowledge of real-life archaeological field conditions, and only a partial acquain-
tance with non-Spanish publications and comparanda. Perhaps, given the right opportunities, García will at some
future date develop his interesting approach into a powerful analysis of early seamanship in this varied and
important region. Surprisingly for recent Spanish scholarship, both the works reviewed here are free of jargon or
methodological posing—commendable, indeed, though (as has been remarked above) both authors might benefit
from attempting a more analytical treatment of their subject-matter.
A. J. PARKER
Redland, Bristol, England
Iconografia nautica de la Peninsula Iberica en la Protohistoria

ARTURO REY DA SILVA

108 pp., 46 b&w figs and maps, 19 ship profiles from Antiquity, c.100 images in Appendix 1
ISBN 978-81407305141
This book is about rock carvings of ships on the Iberian Peninsula, with a few representations on pottery included.
The author discusses the symbolic value of the pictures, and their place in the society of the Late Bronze Age. The
first part of the book has five chapters. Chapter 1 is on ship pictures related to landscape and society. Chapters II,
III and IV treat finds from different parts of Spain—the Straits of Gibraltar, the Atlantic coast and the Balearic
Islands. In II some pottery fragments from Portugal are included. In Ch. V the representations are seen in the
context of sanctuaries and sites with Atlantic and Mediterranean connotations from the period 1250–750 BC. Then
follows a short concluding chapter. The rest of the volume is an illustrated catalogue of ship images.
BOOK REVIEWS
This catalogue (Appendix 1) gives the location and illustrates and describes the various images, and has a
bibliography for each representation. All illustrations are black-and-white; there are a few photos including some
striking images based on satellite photography, while the ship representations are mainly line drawings. There is a
list of illustrations and an overall bibliography.
The publication is rather plain but well produced. For a Scandinavian archaeologist with limited knowledge of
Spanish, the most valuable part of the book is the catalogue. Ships are very often shown in the rock carvings of
Denmark, Sweden and Norway which are contemporary, and it is good to have a catalogue of comparative
material from a different cultural sphere.
Spanish is an important language spoken by a considerable part of the world’s population when we include
South America, so it is sad that BAR does not insist on an English summary—even a short one would have added
greatly to the number of possible readers and users.
ARNE EMIL CHRISTENSEN

Oslo, Norway
The Complex Roundhouses of the Scottish Iron Age (2 vols): an architectural analysis of
complex Atlantic roundhouses (brochs and galleried duns), with references to
wheelhouses and timber roundhouses
BAR British Series 550
TANJA ROMANKIEWICZ
Vol. 1, Text and illustrations, 315 pp with 300 b&w photos, plans, maps; and tables
Vol. 2, Catalogue, 514 pp with approximately 1200 b&w photos and plans, 400 figs
ISBN 978-1407308869 (vol. 1), ISBN 978-1407308876 (vol. 2)
More than a thousand prehistoric circular fortified structures built of unmortared stone are known in Scotland,
mostly on the western seaboard and islands and among the Orkney and Shetland Isles. In the past they have been
categorized as ‘brochs’ or ‘duns’, brochs being the larger category, but the distinction is often unhelpful and
recently the more neutral term ‘Atlantic roundhouses’ has gained currency. However most of the buildings
formerly classified as brochs are notably more sophisticated in their construction than the others, and in the new
nomenclature these have become ‘complex’ Atlantic roundhouses or, more prosaically, ‘cARs’.
CARs as defined in this study ‘have an external drystone wall of circular or sub-circular-to-oval shape, about
three to six metres in thickness. This wall is split into two separate wall leaves and the resulting void between them
was lintelled over. The resulting superimposed intramural passages are commonly referred to as “galleries”. Some
galleries contain a stair that supposedly led to upper floor levels.
Cells and galleries at ground-floor level were generally accessible from the internal circular central area.’
Some cARs may ‘only have been one storey high; others appear to have evidence for several upper floors’. More
than 500 sites in Scotland fit these defining criteria, mostly in the core western and northern Highland areas and
among the western and northern isles, though 11 ‘outliers’ have been recognized in the Lowland south. While
relatively few have been scientifically dated they appear to have flourished from the late 1st millennium BC to the
early centuries of the Christian era. Many though by no means all are situated close to the sea.
Variously explained in the past as bolt-holes against Roman slave-raiders, ‘Pictish’ towers, or Viking strong-
holds, they are now firmly regarded as indigenous vernacular structures of the Late Iron Age which functioned as
focal points of some kind, usually in locations where terrestrial and/or maritime resources might be exploited. But
what this tells us about those who built them, and for what purpose, is far from clear—were they parts of a
defensive system; fortified farmsteads of an agrarian/fishing elite; tribal muster points; or safe gathering-places for
scattered and perhaps more egalitarian societies?
What is certain, however, is that their unmortared stone architecture is massive and complex, and shows a deep
understanding of structural principles and the properties of the building materials involved—principally stone and
wood, supplemented by turf, thatch, and cordage. Some at least were tall—Mousa in Shetland still stands 13m high
and its walls curve inwards towards the top like a modern cooling tower (Fig. 1).
While most cARs are hollow-walled structures of the ‘broch’ variety, another form of stone buildings formerly
called ‘wheelhouses’ also fits this general category. These are substantial circular houses with radial masonry piers
which presumably supported a roof and separated the building into peripheral bays around a central hearth. The
Figure 1. a) The partly collapsed complex Atlantic roundhouse at Dun Telve in Glenelg, Highland Region, showing the
double wall construction; b) The well preserved complex Atlantic roundhouse at Mousa, Shetland, which still stands 13 m tall;
c) The complex Atlantic roundhouse at Mousa, Shetland, in its maritime setting. (All photos: Colin Martin)
cAR category also includes substantial timber roundhouses, although our knowledge of these is restricted to
ground plans only, revealed by slots and post-holes in the subsoil.
For all their uniqueness and interest, stone-built cARs have been patchily studied and rarely excavated to
modern standards. Questions of how they evolved, how they were fitted out and roofed, and what activities took
place inside them, have long been matters of speculation and controversy. However an alternative approach is to
analyse the existing remains on objective architectural principles—given what has survived, what solutions might
have been adopted to fill in the missing elements? Would such solutions have been within the competence and
resources of prehistoric builders, and would they have been viable and effective in practical terms?
This is the approach adopted by Tanja Romankiewicz, whose undergraduate training included a study of
architecture and architectural conservation before she undertook the PhD research of which these volumes are the
outcome. It is an impressive body of work. Volume 1 comprises the main text and Volume 2 is a descriptive
catalogue of the 148 sites investigated. The latter contains a vast corpus of plans and photographs, the fruits of a
systematic trawl of the literature and many site visits. This format allows the user to follow the argument by reading
Volume 1 with Volume 2 to hand for ready cross-referencing and amplification of the relevant sites. It may sound
clumsy, but it works.
This is not a book for the casual or faint-hearted reader but, for those interested in these enigmatic structures and
what they imply about the societies that created them, the considerable effort required to digest it pays rich
dividends. Romankiewicz leads us carefully through the fundamentals of cAR design from an architectural
historian’s viewpoint, defining characteristics which inform the investigation and interpretation of the surviving
structural remains. How the buildings were roofed, and how timber may have been used for flooring and internal
partitioning, is addressed at some length. Her interpretations are aided by analogies from post-medieval vernacular
architecture in the region, where traditions of unmortared building and the use of wood, turf, thatch, rope, and
stone weights for roofing survived into the comparatively recent past. Reconstructions based on this evidence show
cARs in their landscape contexts, suggesting that one function at least was to impress and dominate. Intervisibility
between some examples—particularly ones in maritime settings—further suggests that such buildings may have
been elements in linked networks of surveillance and communication, presumably to enhance control, security, and
defence. Among Romankiewicz’s other conclusions is that while cARs were sophisticated and highly developed
buildings within a common tradition, they do not adhere to standardized designs, and many show evidence of
individuality, even experiment, in their construction.
It was once thought that buildings of such complexity could not have originated locally, and elaborate diffu-
sionist theories placed the sources of this architectural tradition on the Continent from where, driven by population
pressures, invaders moved across the Channel into SW England and thence via Ireland into Scotland bringing their
building traditions with them. These simplistic invasion theories have been replaced by a recognition that from the
earliest times Europe’s Atlantic seaboard has been a network of maritime routeways, along which peoples and ideas
have travelled and interacted. Within this zone discrete geographical groupings, receptive to external ideas but each
with its own distinctive culture, evolved and flourished. Thus, although some similarities can be detected in
architectural traditions from Armorica (Brittany) through Cornwall and Ireland to western and northern Scotland,
none seem to have been ‘copied’ or directly influenced by the others. The concept of a maritime ‘Atlantic façade’
as a prime driver in European prehistory, first articulated as long ago as 1963, has recently been developed by
scholars such as Cunliffe and Henderson (see reviews in IJNA 32.1 and 40.2). Thus we can now see the cARs of
Scotland as a unique phenomenon, created indigenously by those who lived there, but they were not developed in
ignorance of what was going on elsewhere.
BOOK REVIEWS
What, the reader may ask, does this have to do with nautical archaeology? Though no boat finds associated with
cARs have yet been made, the proximity of many of them to the sea strongly implies a relationship with the
maritime environment and the exploitation of its resources. Though we do not know how societies associated with
the Scottish Atlantic roundhouse tradition were structured, it is clear from their architectural achievements that
they were capable of drawing together and organizing skilled work-forces with which to undertake co-ordinated
technological enterprises of considerable sophistication, replicating what had been successful in the past but not
afraid of trying out new ideas. The best of the surviving structures come close to the limits of what is achievable with
unmortared stone. We can surely assume that cAR dwellers applied similar levels of skill, adaptability, and
occasionally innovation to building the water-craft that the maritime bias suggested by the locations of many of the
structures imply. It follows that they would have exploited to the limits the properties of wood, skin, and associated
materials to fashion seagoing craft as elegant and successful on the water as the cARs were on land. Exactly what
forms such vessels may have taken must await nautical archaeological evidence, which we must hope may one day
be found.
But useful work can still be done to set cARs into the maritime landscapes and cultures of which they were
clearly a part. This is not an aspect that Romankiewicz’s research has specifically addressed, though proximity to
the sea is mentioned as a factor in the siting of some of them. Taken as a whole, however, this corpus (together with
the outstanding resource of Scotland’s National Monuments Record, accessible at canmore.rcahms.gov.uk/),
provides a solid foundation for wider contextual studies of this distinctive architectural tradition, seen from a
maritime perspective. Such work is already under way through the aerial photography programme run by the
Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland, in which this reviewer is participating.
Initial results are promising, with many of the sites now being examined in their wider maritime contexts. Many
were clearly located to take advantage of natural harbours and landing-places, some of which show evidence of
artificial enhancement (which may, of course, be later). Some of these putative harbours are ‘secret’, in the sense
that ships berthed inside them would not have been visible from seaward, while others have entrances which could
easily be negotiated by those familiar with the hidden dangers but not by strangers unaware of them.
All this makes the point that the terrestrial elements of maritime cultural landscapes, though primarily the
preserve of ‘muddy boots’ archaeologists, should also be studied by those who view them from seaward perspec-
tives. That the book under review barely touches on these aspects is not a criticism in itself—on its own terms it is
a remarkable and ground-breaking achievement. But it challenges us all to see maritime archaeology—and indeed
history—as integral parts of the wider disciplines, and not simply as optional extras.
COLIN MARTIN
University of St Andrews, Scotland
Transferts Technologiques en Architecture Navale Méditerranéenne de l’Antiquité aux

Temps Modernes: identité technique et identité culturelle
PATRICE POMEY (Ed.) with 20 Contributors
174 pp., 51 b&w and 21 colour illustrations
Institut Français d’Études Anatoliennes George Dumézil, Istanbul., via De Boccard, Paris, 2010, £34.44,
ISBN 978-2906053977
This small but important volume comprises the proceedings of the papers presented at a roundtable workshop held
under the same title, and organized by Patrice Pomey in Istanbul at the French Institute of Anatolian Studies
‘George Dumézil’, 19–21 May, 2007. The title is ambitious in that it suggests that the contents cover the full range
of technological developments in Mediterranean shipbuilding from Antiquity to modern times. That, however, is
not the case, as an undertaking of that magnitude would have required significantly more pages than the space
allotted for the proceedings of this workshop. An introduction preceding each of the three unconnected thematic
sections weaves the contributions into a structured synthesis on the specific and long-standing issues involving the
evolution (the term preferred here instead of ‘development’) of shipbuilding technology in the Mediterranean.
However, those expecting a more balanced coverage and an in-depth analysis of the issues at hand may be a little
disappointed, as some of the contributions are descriptive without much interpretation of the transfer of ship-
building technologies. Nevertheless, this is understandable as the wrecks included in the book have been carefully
selected from some of the most recent excavations. The contributions are largely in English, with one in French,
two in Spanish, and two of the three introductory sections in French as well.
Archaeological evidence of shipwrecks excavated in the Mediterranean over the past five decades indicate that
shipbuilding was a complex and gradually changing process involving distinct practices used in different regions of
the Mediterranean during different periods. The wealth and variety of archaeological data presented in this volume
also point to distinctive and peculiar conceptual approaches in ship construction that can be identified as techno-
logical and cultural traditions. However, the evolutionary model applied throughout this volume to explain the
technological changes in shipbuilding seems somewhat simplified. The mechanisms of discovery, invention (the
application of the discovery), and innovation (the diffusion of the invention) of a new feature of ship construction
have never been a linear process. Any new shipbuilding practice is the result of different stages through which a
discovery must pass before being recognized, adopted, implemented, and spread. Thus, innovation in shipbuilding
practice—when documented for the first time in the archaeological record—is ‘the tip of the iceberg’ culminating
in—rather than appearing as—an abrupt change.
The reader cannot help but notice that there are chronological gaps in the book’s coverage. Without bickering
over the exclusion of the evidence for Bronze Age ships, which, granted, is rather scanty to begin with, and
Classical Greek and Roman ships, the first section of the volume opens with Archaic Greek shipbuilding tradi-
tions. Pomey’s introduction provides a detailed historical and archaeological overview of the evidence. Archaic
Greek ships, such as those excavated at Giglio (580 BC), Bon-Porté (540–510 BC), and Jules-Verne 9 (525–510
BC), are characterized by the fastening of hull planking to one another with ligatures passing through diagonally
drilled holes having tetrahedral notches that are cut along the edges of the planks, and locked in place with pegs.
Wadding laid over the seams and kept in place by ligatures, dowels or coaks inserted between plank edges for
alignment, and assembled frames lashed to the planks are also distinctive features of this shipbuilding tradition.
By the second half of the 6th century BC, tenons began replacing dowels in aligning planks, thus suggesting a
developmental shift within the Archaic Greek shipbuilding tradition. The practice of fastening planks together by
means of pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery—known to the Romans as punica coagementa—is archaeologically
documented in Mediterranean seagoing ships by the Late Bronze Age on the shipwrecks excavated in Turkey at
Uluburun (1320±15 BC) and Cape Gelidonya (c.1200 BC). However, unlike Bronze Age shipwrecks, Archaic
Greek ships were assembled with unpegged tenons. The earliest evidence for the use of freestanding rectangular
tenons, rather than dowels or coaks for plank alignment purposes in early Greek shipbuilding tradition, is seen on
the wreck excavated at Pabuç Burnu, Turkey, dated to 570–560 BC (M. Polzer). The Cala Sant Vincenç ship-
wreck, Spain (530–500 BC) exhibits the same construction features of the Pabuç Burnu wreck; that is, tenons for
plank alignment and pegged lacing for fastening the planking together (X. Nieto and M. Santos). The earliest
evidence for the use of pegged mortise-and-tenon joints on Archaic Greek ships is provided by the Jules-Verne 7
wreck (525–510 BC) excavated at Marseilles, France. In addition, other shipwrecks dating to the late 6th or early
5th century BC, such as César 1 (510–500 BC), Grand Ribaud F (510–490 BC), and Gela 2 (450–425 BC),
document the use of this type of joinery in the transition from Archaic to Classical Greek archaeological contexts.
However, the use of unpegged mortise-and-tenon joints at Pabuç Burnu and at Cala Sant Vincenç—to which we
can add the Gela 1 wreck (500–480 BC)—suggests that mortise-and-tenon joinery could have evolved within the
Greek tradition of laced construction, rather than being transmitted by Phoenician shipbuilding tradition, which
used pegged mortise-and-tenon joints since at least the Late Bronze Age, as demonstrated by the Uluburun and
Cape Gelidonya ships. The wreck found at Binissafúller, Menorca, Spain (6th–5th century BC) further documents
the use of pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery for fastening the planks to one another, whereas its frames were
lashed to the planking (C. de Juan, X. Aguelo, A. Palomo, and O. Pons); this last wreck, likely built in the Punic
tradition and recalling the spectacular mid-8th-century-BC shipwrecks at Mazarrón, Spain, contrasts nicely with
the Archaic Greek tradition of boatbuilding. What one gains from a long list of dated shipwrecks and their
peculiar construction features is, therefore, an appreciation of how different factors and cultures may have
influenced the trajectory of this evolution, and that the innovation or diffusion phase of an invention is almost
always more subtle and more complicated than is suggested.
The second section, with an introduction by Y. Kahanov, discusses one of the most important changes that
occurred in the history of wooden shipbuilding technology: the transition from shell- or plank-first to skeleton- or
frame-first construction, which was a complex, long-term process likely resulting from several concurrent factors
such as economic crises and changes in social strata and cultural interaction. According to Kahanov, the necessary
archaeological parameters for identifying skeleton-first construction in a shipwreck include the absence of edge
joining between hull planking, the presence of frames nailed to the keel, planking butt joints placed over the frames,
and caulking material found between plank seams. The Dor 2001/1 (AD 420–540) shipwreck excavated in Tantura
Lagoon, Israel—although only a section of it was raised—presents these distinctive features of frame-based
construction (H. Mor). The hull of the Tantura F wreck from Israel (7th–8th centuries AD), was also built
‘frame-first’, both in concept and in construction (O. Barkai). Some of the shipwrecks recently excavated at the
ancient Theodosian harbour at Yenikapı in Istanbul, Turkey, represent the last phase of the transition from
shell-first to skeleton-first construction (U. Kocabaş and I. Özsait Kocabaş). This second section, however, is
limited to shipwrecks excavated in the Eastern Mediterranean and may be seen as a prelude to a recent article
published by Pomey, Kahanov, and Rieth discussing the 27 most relevant shipwrecks concerning the transition
from shell-first to skeleton-first construction in the ancient Mediterranean (IJNA 41.2: 235–314).
BOOK REVIEWS
The introduction of the third and final section, by Pomey, explores four unrelated case studies in an effort to
explain how instances of specific technological transfer in different geographical regions can be the result of cultural
influences. The caudicariae naves Fiumicino 1, 2, and 3 wrecks (4th–5th century AD), discovered in 1958 and 1961
within the maritime port of Rome represent an interesting case-study (G. Boetto). These ships, used for transport-
ing cargo from the port of Ostia up the Tiber river to Rome, present distinctive design features peculiar to riverine
and fluvial traditions, such as flat-floored bottoms and boxy hull shapes. Similar features are observed also in the
Zwammerdam-2 barge from the Netherlands, built in the ‘Gallo-Roman’ or ‘Romano-Celtic’ shipbuilding tradi-
tion. The Çamaltı Burnu I shipwreck (N. Günsenin), a Byzantine merchantman carrying a cargo of wine amphoras
(beginning of the 13th century AD) and excavated in the Sea of Marmara, Turkey, on the other hand, has minimal
and extremely fragmentary remains to be of any use in offering reliable insight on construction or cultural identity.
Since its construction in 1293 by King Philippe IV and until its destruction in 1418 by English troops during the
Hundred Years’ War, the Rouen galley shipyard has played a pivotal role in the transfer of technological change
in shipbuilding practices in Normandy (E. Reith), but the extent of these changes seems to have been limited only
to the shipyard. During the 124 years that this shipyard was in existence, two different naval architectural traditions
co-existed in the region: one a regional, clinker ‘shell-first’ tradition used in local shipbuilding and in the Rouen
shipyard, and the other a Mediterranean, carvel ‘frame-first’ tradition used for galleys built only in the shipyard;
yet carvel construction seems not to have diffused to local shipyards until the second half of the 15th century, long
after the shipyard ceased to exist. Transfer of technology and changes in shipbuilding practices also occurred from
the 17th century onward, as the result of the migration of ethnic Greek shipwrights from the Ottoman Empire, in
particular from the Aegean, the Sea of Marmara, and the Black Sea regions (K. A. Damianidis). The technical
similarities that characterize the types of boats built in these regions can be recognized as features of cultural
identity that are documented in the traditional, local terminology. The theoretical framework adopted in this final
section of the book might seem over-simplified. Investigating material culture exclusively through cognitive
archaeology limits the scope of the big-picture issues discussed in this section, inasmuch as the diffusion of a
peculiar shipbuilding practice involves multiple factors and agents not exclusively related to the social system (that
is economic and geographical and climatic/environmental conditions, available resources, time and cost, etc.).
Although some of the shipwrecks presented in this volume have been published elsewhere, the examples chosen
to illustrate specific technological developments and document their transference, is excellent. One could have
included more mile-stone shipwrecks in the ensemble, both in terms of technological firsts and also to span the
chronological gaps in the overall picture so that the transitions in ship construction, as demonstrated by this
publication, appear less discontinuous and spontaneous. However, in its limited capacity, the volume reaches its
goal in the most general sense, but the reader should keep in mind that these technological developments and their
transferences are far less straight-forward than seem to be presented here. Moreover, the fine line between what
constitutes a shell-first over a skeleton-first construction and where and when exactly this development took place
is far from settled. I would argue, for example, that some of the shipwrecks presented as displaying frame-first
features and those interpreted as having been built with most frames installed before planking, are not necessarily
so in concept and design, especially in cases where the ships show significant evidence of repairs, which would have
profoundly altered the minute details and clues that point to shell-first construction. The volume is well illustrated
and is a must-read for students of ancient shipbuilding, but could have benefited from somewhat tighter editing,
and the prose sometimes can be difficult, especially for the non-specialist.
CEMAL PULAK
Institute of Nautical Archaeology at Texas A&M University
Batellerie Gallo-Romaine: pratiques régionales et influences maritime Méditerranée

Bibliothèque d’Archéologie Méditerranéenne et Africaine 9
GIULIA BOETTO, PATRICE POMEY and ANDRÉ TCHERNIA (Eds) with 33 Contributors
191 pp., b&w illustrations throughout, some colour
Éditions Errance, 18, rue Séguier, 75006 Paris, for Centre Camille Julian, 13094 Aix-en-Provence, 2011, €39
(sbk), ISBN 978-2877724777
Readers familiar with François Beaudoin’s Bateaux des fleuves de France (1985) which describes the extraordi-
nary range of river transport surviving there until the last century will welcome this analysis of regional differ-
ences already existing in Roman times and evident from widespread archaeological discoveries in the rivers,
lakes and polders of northern Europe. Éric Rieth’s masterly synthesis, Des bateux et des fleuves. Archéologie de
la batellerie du néolithique aux Temps Modernes en France appeared in 1998 since when there have been major
discoveries. The number of new barge-finds at Arles, Lyon and on the Lower Rhine triggered a seminar orga-
nized by the Centre Camille Julian on the theme of Gallo-Roman boats and inland navigation: regional practices
and Mediterranean maritime influences. This publication is the outcome and will perhaps go some way to
stimulate redress of what the editors feel is the low status of river craft in a field dominated by shipwreck
archaeology.
Barges are the specific subject here; those hefty constructions of limited draught, as much as 34 m long, which,
as it were, oiled the wheels of the Empire, carrying building materials and agricultural produce on a scale previously
unknown. There are nine self-contained chapters, two in English, with a ‘Foreword’ by the editors and ‘Introduc-
tion’ by Patrice Pomey; each has résumés in both languages. The English subtitles with their authors in brackets are
usefully listed: ‘Gallo-Roman boats of the Neuchâtel Lake in the abyssal zone of ship construction’ (Béat Arnold);
‘Recent research on Roman Shipfinds from the Netherlands’ (André van Holk); ‘Technological Transfer from the
Mediterranean to the Northern Provinces’ (Ronald Bockius); ‘The shipwreck of the Gallo-Roman barge of the
Place Tolozan in Lyon: approach of a regional tradition of ‘bottom based’ construction in relation to Mediterra-
nean maritime naval architecture’ (Éric Rieth); ‘The Parc Saint-Georges shipwrecks in Lyon’ (Marc Guyon and
Éric Rieth, with sections on waterfront installations and textiles contributed by colleagues); ‘The barge of the
Roman bridge of Chalon-sur-Sâone: considerations about the watertightness system’ (Catherine Lonchambon);
‘The Arles-Rhône 3 shipwreck’ (Sabrina Marlier, with its dendrochronology contributed by Sandra Greck and
Frédéric Guibal); ‘The Conque des Salins shipwreck. . . a lagoonal boat’ (Marie-Pierre Jézégou); ‘The Lipe
(Ljubljana, Slovenia) river barge and the ‘bottom based’ construction from South-eastern Europe: what Mediter-
ranean influences?’ (Giulia Boetto and Corinne Rousse).
Pomey outlines those key finds in northern Europe over the past half century which have enabled scholars to
distinguish Gallo-Roman shipbuilding techniques as Rhine or Alpine. However, it was the discovery of six
Roman-period wrecks at Lyon and another at Arles which focused attention on southern Gaul and the existence
of a Rhône-Sâone tradition, while old and new finds from Slovenia, Croatia and Serbia, all likewise of bottom-
based construction (construction sur sole), may be classified as Romano-Illyrian. In addition to these Rieth has
pointed to a possible Atlantic tradition deduced from the characteristics of the Gallo-Roman wreck of Taillebourg
found in the river Charente.
The increasing body of evidence for river transport in the Roman period now resembles a huge partly completed
jigsaw: the main picture is emerging after a long struggle to make sense of the pieces, but the place of future
discoveries will readily be found and enrich our understanding of the whole. Most importantly, it is only a wider
viewpoint and meticulous study of the remains which enable indigenous boatbuilding traditions to be distinguished
from those transmitted by craftsmen drafted in from all corners of the Roman Empire. Greek and oriental funerary
inscriptions from Lyon, for instance, underline how cosmopolitan that emporium was. For Bockius the challenge
is to deduce vestiges of earlier influential contacts and identify the Iron Age predecessors of the vessels, specimens
of which, as Pomey observes, we are cruelly in need.
Inevitably some earlier assumptions require revision. A case in point is made by van Holk: in the Netherlands the
river frontier of the Roman Empire is rich in barge-finds, and dendrochronological study of the De Meern-1 and -4
and the Woerden-7 barges shows that Dutch oak was used in their construction. Consequently some barge-building
is likely to have taken place locally and not in central Germany as the Zwammerdam-2 and -6 barges had suggested.
De Meern-1 has an extreme length-to-breadth ratio of 9.1:1 showing that it could access narrow waterways with a
maximum cargo. One has to wonder if that is the reason it foundered. Fortunately for us this disaster led to the (rare)
survival of personal possessions and tools. These suggest that the skipper was a Roman army veteran.
The overall picture deduced from surviving wood is likely to be complicated by evidence of dismantling and
reuse. This was found in the shipyard at Avenches where, as Arnold indicates, dozens of shipwrights constructed
hundreds of barges for the transport of thousands of tonnes of quarried limestone to build the Helvetic capital. On
an altogether different scale the Conque des Salins wreck provides a rare glimpse of a little vessel of mortise-and-
tenon construction converted to local use on Lake Thau in the Roman period.
The chapters on the discoveries at Chalon-sur-Sâone, Lyon and Arles form, as it were, the core of the book and
present data on which the similarities and differences of the Rhône-Sâone group can be evaluated by the reader.
Modern large-scale development in the context of heritage responsibility entails archaeological excavation on an
unprecedented scale. The construction of an underground car park at Lyon was preceded by 20 months of
excavation of the underlying fossil bed of the Sâone. The result was the discovery of 16 wrecks including six barges
of Gallo-Roman type. The latter lay beached at the same angle to the ancient right bank of the river and date from
the 1st to 3rd centuries AD. All were of bottom-based construction and add substance to the port of Lugdunum
situated at a strategic point on the confluence of Sâone and Rhône. The currents and flood waters of the latter made
it unsuitable for port facilities. However, in 1990 a logboat extended in a bottom-based method and dating to c.AD
30 was found on the fossil right bank of the Rhône. Mortise-and-tenon construction combined with diagonal
nailing and luting of woolen cloth impregnated with pitch were evaluated by Rieth 20 years ago, and, unlike
BOOK REVIEWS
Marten de Weerd and Dietrich Hakelberg (Zwammerdam), detected an interaction between local and Roman
barge builders rather than wholesale adoption of Roman designs.
A 30-m barge, Arles-Rhône 3, was found during archaeological mapping of a huge dump of amphora and
ceramic sherds on the bank of the fast-moving river. It proved to have heeled over at an angle of 35°, partly spilling
its cargo of stone and this, with the current, made underwater excavation (incomplete at the time of writing)
extremely difficult. The stern portion comprised a galley and a workshop containing tools and wooden billets. Two
South Gaulish plates narrowed the date of its loss to the mid 1st century AD. Survival of internal fittings and the
full height of one side make it one of the best-preserved barges from the Rhône basin. It is constructed of pine and
oak with halved logs forming the chine, a vestigial element paralleled in barge-2 from Pommeroeul, Belgium. The
junction is reinforced internally by a square-sectioned stringer (tasseau) spiked in place. The name of the owner, or
the builder, appears to be marked by the neat lettering ‘C. L. POSTV’ at its starboard end. In common with eight
other examples from the area plus those from the Parc St Georges, Lyon, impregnated cloth or vegetable material
was used as luting in contrast to moss caulking in the Zwammerdam barges. However, Arles-Rhône 3 lacked
features found in other members of the group, such as tenons in the pre-assembly of its bottom planking, and
diagonal nails. It seems clear that the use of log chines found on some but not all of the group was a practical
solution to the need for longitudinal strength and rigidity as well as increasing buoyancy when heavy cargoes were
transported.
The publication will be of immense value to students of the subject since it compresses a mass of complex
information into a single very readable and well-illustrated volume. For specialists also it will be a vademecum.
Henceforward the cargo-carriers of the Empire’s rivers must surely merit as much attention as the vessels which
transported its products across the sea.
VALERIE FENWICK
Blaxhall, Suffolk, England
Arles-Rhône 3: le naufrage d’un chaland antique dans le Rhône, enquête

pluridisciplinaire
DAVID DJAOUI, SANDRA GRECK and SABRINA MARLIER (Eds) with 30 Contributors
227 pp., colour illustrations throughout
Actes Sud, Le Méjan, Place Nina Berberova, 13200 Arles, France, 2011, €39 (hbk), ISBN 978-2742797455
This book is intended, according to Patrice Pomey’s preamble, as an introduction to the many archaeological
aspects of the Arles-Rhône 3 Roman barge. Having been discovered in 2004, in the Rhône River at Arles, the 30-m
long, 2.75 m wide, flat-bottomed vessel, dated to the middle of the 1st century AD, was slowly revealed to survive
in an exceptionally good state of preservation. The bottom was almost complete and the starboard side survived
to full height, formed from a single half-log chine. Moreover, many of the internal fittings remained in place. It was
excavated until 2011, when the boat remains were recovered in three pieces. This volume was aimed at visitors to
the project’s original, temporary exhibition at the Musée Départmentale Arles Antique in 2011–2012. I imagine it
will now also serve those visiting the newly extended museum that, since October 2013, houses the conserved
remains of the vessel. It may also have been used to present the huge amount, range and value of the work
conducted within the bounds of the project to the many financial sponsors. In France it might be termed a beaux
livre, having a magazine-style format and numerous full-colour photographs and inset information boxes, all in a
sturdy cover; however, the English translation of ‘coffee-table book’ does not do it justice, as the accompanying
words are integral and interesting rather than an after-thought. The very many illustrations that pull the reader into
the text vary from traditional archaeological pot illustrations and plans, unavoidably murky underwater photos
and site sketches, to arty images of artefact ‘still lifes’, watercolour reconstructions and the museum designer’s
sketches for the new displays—it is an eclectic mix, but none the worse for that considering the intended public.
The book is an edited volume, grouping many short reports by different members of the multidisciplinary
research team into three chapters. The first (pp. 30–123), looks at the development of Arles as a port city in the
Greek and Roman periods, including a summary of what has been learnt from the study of the huge deposit of
amphoras, dated c.AD 10–117, that covered the wreck—an initial test trench produced 280 examples. David
Djaoui (p. 36) compares the deposit to an underwater Monte Testaccio, while also examining the use of amphoras
to stabilize the river banks. The chapter is completed by a fairly detailed catalogue (considering the intended
audience), of other finds from the deposit, including finewares, lamps and coins, written by a variety of specialists.
The second chapter (pp. 125–207) is the core of the work and centres on the wreck itself: its associated artefacts,
dating, cargo, and the detailed study of the hull. At each stage the subject is clearly explained for a non-specialist
public, while never shying away from including a high level of technical detail, whether it is in the descriptions of
the boat’s construction (pp. 147–63), interpretations of the inscription branded on the hull (p. 156), or how the
vessel sits in the known typology of Roman barges (p. 184). Even if some of the images appear a little frivolous, (for
example the double spread of other ‘finds’ from the river [pp. 78–9], including a plastic doll and a sheep carcass),
the volume cannot be accused of ‘dumbing down’ for the general public.
The barge sank laden with stone, and apparently with all its everyday objects, making it a unique opportunity
to study life on board from the internal organization of the cargo (pp. 172–9), to the dolium base reused as a stove
or brazier (p. 135). Good use is made of a variety of visual reconstructions of the vessel, both to bring the wooden
remains to life and to study the tonnage and means of propulsion. However, it is a shame that the poorest images
are some of the computer-generated plans of the boat (pp. 150, 151, for example) which have been reproduced with
lines too fine and too faint to be easily read. You cannot ‘zoom in’ once it is printed!
The work is scattered with inset boxes which present basic information about diverse archaeological subjects from
carbon-dating to ‘amphoras as designer packaging’, underwater recording methods to the provenance of the building
stones the barge was carrying as cargo. These vary in quality and detail but each provides either a clear introduction
to an archaeological process, or a more detailed description and analysis of a particular find or aspect of the project.
A short chapter concludes (pp. 209–22): it details raising the wreck, its conservation and proposed exhibition.
IJNA readers will probably be more interested in visiting the boat, now the centrepiece of the Musée Départmentale
Arles Antique extension, to see the display for themselves.
Overall, this publication achieves what it sets out to do, and even a specialist audience will find the many
detailed photographs and drawings of this exceptional archaeological find of interest. If there is a criticism it is
that, as was the case for the archaeologists involved in the excavations, there is a lot of dépôt to dig through
before you get to the boat itself. However, most IJNA readers will probably want to wait for the forthcoming
Archaeonautica monograph edited by Sabrina Marlier, due out this year, which will be dedicated to the Arles-
Rhône 3 project.
MIRANDA RICHARDSON
Castelnau de Montmiral, France
Ausonius’ Mosella und das antike Seewesen

ARVID GÖTTLICHER
399 pp., 203 b&w illustrations
Computus Verlag, Hauptstr. 60, 55595 Gutenberg, Germany (via Dr. J. Kobes), 2013, € 39.99 (hbk),
ISBN 978-3940598165
The title of Göttlicher’s new book roughly translates as ‘Ausonius’s Mosella and the maritime culture of antiquity’,
and one would be forgiven in assuming that this is a book about the maritime terms and allusions used by Ausonius
in his late Roman panegyric on the river Moselle. In reality, it is much more than that. The author takes the
4th-century 500-line poem as a starting point to explore various themes loosely connected with seafaring and water
transport (even lighthouses and dolphins), including their origins and their later reception. These range from
history and historiography via literature and mythology to physical images, and also include a discussion of related
archaeological remains.
The book is divided into several numbered parts, beginning with some opening remarks (1) followed by
introductory chapters on the Roman history of the Moselle region (2), the history and reception of the poem (3.1),
and the poet’s biography and motivation (3.2). The longest and main part (4) is chiefly concerned with literature
(4.1) and ancient historiography (4.2), with a short discussion of particular items of vocabulary (4.3). Part 5 will be
of most interest to the readers of this journal, as it focusses on the history of fisheries and water transport in the
region itself (5.1), and particularly on the relevant pictorial (and also material) sources (5.2). The body of the book
concludes with a special look at some religious aspects, especially the role of the sea-god Neptune (6.1) and of
dolphins as mariner’s companions (6.2). Part 10 is a substantial 84-page collection of black-and-white images,
referred to in the text. Parts 7–9 are the usual lists of abbreviations, illustration sources, and a bibliography; there
is no index. What is unfortunately missing is an English summary or any other aid to readers outside the
German-speaking world. There is also no reproduction of the full poem but, as the author points out, this is readily
available elsewhere in various editions and translations.
Several of the chapters in parts 4–6 are structured in a similar way: each has discussion of one or more points
relating to (or inspired by) the poem. Each of these discussions begins by quoting the relevant lines from the
Mosella, in the Latin original, followed by a number of different interpretations by various translators, mostly in
BOOK REVIEWS
German, but occasionally including H. G. Evelyn White’s English version of 1919 (Loeb Classical Library). This
highlights the difficulty of translating poetry and is helpful for understanding the nuances of
each passage. The extract is then followed by an exploration first of the origin then of the reception of each
particular theme, progressively moving further away from the poem, in some cases as far as the 20th century (in
time) and China (in space). Evidence is drawn chiefly from written sources and images, but sometimes from the
archaeological record. Written sources are copiously quoted, sometimes in the original language (especially Latin)
with a German translation, and sometimes only in German. Many of the images can be found on the plates at the
back of the book and are clearly referenced in the text. In some of the early chapters, each section is followed by
a very useful collection of references for further reading; however, this is not carried on throughout the book.
Chapter 5.1 may serve as an illustration for the structure of a chapter. It is headed Das lokale ‘Seewesen’,
‘local “maritime culture” ’, the inverted commas placed quite deliberately by the author, acknowledging that any
discussion of local customs is unlikely to involve the actual sea. The chapter opens with four lines of the poem
(II. 39–42, and their various translations) describing the rowing and towing of boats on the river. The first theme
discussed is that of towing, beginning with a brief etymological overview of the Latin, Greek and German words
for this (none of which appears in the lines quoted), and followed first by several earlier examples of towing as
described in Latin poetry, then some more technical prose descriptions from Greek and Latin sources (the Greek
is only given in translation, the Latin also in the original). This leads into a long discussion of images showing
towed ships, with some short descriptions (especially for those not included in the plates) and background
details. The first example is a relief on a 3rd-century funerary monument still in situ just upriver from Trier, so
a local and relatively contemporary monument. From there, the narrative moves on via the Rhône region to late
Roman Spain and Italy, then to medieval documents from Central Europe and to better-documented evidence
from the past few centuries. Some parallels from South and East Asia complete the picture before the discussion
returns to some more debated European finds. After this, the author goes on to talk about other important
aspects of riverine shipping which (as he points out himself) are not mentioned in the poem at all, including the
techniques of poling and sailing and the identification of some ship-types. This discussion remains largely in the
confines of the Roman world, and takes in a number of further illustrations as well as some archaeological finds.
However, everything is kept short, providing an overview of an abundance of evidence, rather than an in-depth
discussion of any particular point; individual references (mostly in footnotes) can be followed up by readers who
are interested in more detail.
Two chapters are openly different from this kind of structure. The first is chapter 4.3, on the diverse vocabulary
associated with rivers, the sea and seafaring. This contains etymological information as well as usage examples,
both from Ausonius and other authors, as well as from epigraphy. The other is chapter 5.2 on pictorial evidence
for Roman shipbuilding in Germany. This includes much evidence held in German museums, not only of ships
from the region or the period in question, but going back to the Neolithic and as far afield as Syria. It expands on
the collection of material already started in chapter 5.1, casting its net more widely to gather an impressive amount
of material (with subsection 5.2.1, on the Mediterranean ship-types mentioned in the poem).
Mostly, the individual items under discussion are arranged in a way that seems logically to lead from one to the
other, but every now and then it is not entirely clear why a particular item has been chosen. There are some
inaccuracies in the text and a few surprising (though not incorrect) choices of evidence: for example, when
discussing the etymology of mare ‘sea’, the comparison in modern German is to maritim ‘maritime’ (a late learned
borrowing), not to the more common and closely related Meer ‘sea’.
The large collection of images at the end of the book is a feature in its own right—there are just over 200
drawings and black-and-white photographs, mostly of representations of ships and related themes on archaeo-
logical finds (for instance oil-lamps, models, coins, grave stones, and mosaics), and, in later manuscripts and
printed books, but also of some full-sized ship parts. These pages include, for example, 29 images with nautical
scenes from Homer in a variety of media, 18 images of Greek and Roman lighthouses, ranging in date from the 1st
to the 19th centuries, and a number of logboat models from around the world.
It is difficult to sum this book up in few words; it is a treasure trove of information from many kinds of sources
and on a wide range of subjects (though with a literary emphasis), much of it only loosely connected with the poem,
and arranged in an almost stream-of-consciousness fashion. While this style of presentation makes the book
pleasant to read, it also makes it difficult to use for reference; an index would have been very helpful to overcome
this. The book is likely to be of more interest to those studying late Roman culture, its origins and reception rather
than those interested in archaeological and historical detail. While they cannot be used as a substitute index by
themselves, the plates form an excellent starting point for exploring the book, providing an overview of the
individual themes and a rough idea of the order in which these are discussed; this will, one hopes, make at least
some of the text accessible even to readers who are less confident in the German language.
KATRIN THIER
Oxford, England
Maritime landscapes of Roman Britain: water transport on the coasts and rivers
of Britannia
BAR, British Series 556
JAMES ELLIS JONES

213 pp., illustrated throughout, inventory of coastal and riverine landing-places
Archaeopress for BAR, Gordon house, 276 Banbury Road, Oxford, OX2 7ED, 2012, £35 (sbk),
ISBN 978-1407309583
Reading the publication date of this work, and its BAR edition number, it seems amazing that a detailed
exploration of this topic has evaded us for so long. It was in 1978 that Henry Cleere (Roman harbours and
landing-places south of Hadrian’s Wall, in J. du Platt Taylor and H. Cleere (eds.), Roman shipping and trade;
Britain and the Rhine provinces, CBA 24) drew attention to a modest number of recognizable landing-places on
Britannia’s coastline. This was prompted by the course of certain Roman roads, some of which were aligned on
virtually anonymous coastal destinations. Since that time, the siting and function of the forts of the ‘Saxon shore’
have attracted interesting debate on landing-places (A. Pearson, 2002, The Roman shore forts: coastal defences of
Southern Britain. Oxford). We have also seen a general and well-considered review of Roman Britain and the Roman
Navy (Mason, 2003. Oxford). Both studies include some mapped reconstructions of past coastal and riverine
configurations. While a general review of Britannia’s coastal villas and maritime villas (D. J. Tomalin, 2006,
‘Coastal villas, maritime villas; a perspective from Southern Britain’, Journal of Maritime Archaeology 1, 29–85)
drew particular attention to the navigational aspects of the bays and estuaries of the Romano-British coast, where
the siting of certain of villas appeared to be largely led by maritime considerations. From Henry Cleere’s 45
perceived landing-places, the number was now advanced by 124.
In this current work Dr Jones carries this topic much further. Here, at last, is a well-synthesized appraisal of
both the maritime and riverine routes that once conveyed all manner of goods to and from Britannia. This study
takes us beyond the mariner’s primary concerns with safe anchorage and tides, and introduces the practical
considerations of stowage capacities, cargo weights, the sourcing of commodities, patterns of demand, and the
economics of shipping to the disparate markets of the Romano-British and Gallo-Roman world.
In his introduction to this work, the author sets out his approach and his credentials. In the first instance, this study
is something of an offshore view, taken by someone who is certainly familiar with sailing conditions and navigational
considerations. It is, in short, a fresh approach, and in the author’s own words it ‘diverges from the well-beaten track
of Romano-British history as, for example, it argues that ‘the perils of Land’s End’ and ‘the dangers of the west coast
route’ are much exaggerated, and there is considerable evidence that voyages under sail round the coasts of Britain,
and in particular the south-west coast, are not the difficult undertaking suggested by some writers’.
So here, at the start, we can expect some new thinking, and we are not disappointed. ‘Sea-keeping’ and
‘passage-making’ are topics that the author promptly introduces while he also explains that vessel types, and their
origins and methods of construction, should not detain us. In this study it is sufficient to know that craft like those
found at Blackfriars and St Peter Port, Guernsey, as well as the described ships of the Veneti ‘have much in
common, in terms of design and construction, with the medieval cog’. Once we acknowledge this simple analogy,
we can join the author in weighing written accounts of medieval shipping against our woefully weak contemporary
record of Romano-British seafaring.
In Chs 5–7, the book gives thorough attention to the military aspects of coastal and riverine sailing. Literary
sources have been well trawled, and they include a reminder that ‘Agricola started his fifth campaign with a sea
passage, and in a series of successful actions subdued nations hitherto unknown’. Here we see a naval force
successfully acting in its own right, without essential support from ground troops. Where a goodly number of
islands, headlands and rivers on the west coast of Scotland have acquired Roman names, the author suggests that
‘Roman sailors were well aware of the opportunity for navigation in these northern waters’. Elsewhere in his text,
the author draws attention to the anomalous status of the Dumnonian peninsula, where the well-ordered civil
settlement of southern Britain gives way to something that archaeologists have always struggled to define. In this
instance, Dr Jones draws our attention to the Cornish coastal forts at Nanstallon, Lostwithiel and Calstock, while
inferring that the population of the south-west peninsular, and the handling of its vital mineral products, were best
managed by simple military supervision at the harbour-side.
As we progress into Dr Jones’ book it is important to remind ourselves that the word ‘shipping’ is not in the title.
This is an assumption easily made. Essentially, this book is a study of routes and landing-places, markets and
hinterlands. Once these are viewed within their geographic framework, we immediately find that there are obstacles
set in both the past and the present.
For the military planners and commercial opportunists of the Romano-British period, problems were often
posed by difficult navigational access to ports and by the varying usefulness of navigable rivers. Rivers, after all,
BOOK REVIEWS
offer no more than opportune routes to places that may, or may not, be rewarding to visit. Once its bridge had been
installed, London was a strategic choice that was bound to succeed. Gloucester and Chester both owe their siting
to rapids that force a transshipment of cargoes to and from upstream craft. In the territory of the potentially
troublesome Brigantes, we find the garrison at York sited at a point that might be conveniently provisioned via a
riverine link with the sea.
For archaeologists dealing with today’s settings of Romano-British maritime sites, there are inherent uncertain-
ties concerning the scale and pace of ongoing coastal processes, sea-level change, and behavioural shifts in our
rivers. Examples of these changes, cited by the author, are evocative enough. The silting and loss of the Wantsum
Channel; the reclamation of the Wash wetlands; the sea’s destruction of Walton Castle; the accretion of Romney
Marsh; the engulfing of Londinium’s waterfront; all offer images that emphasize the chronological chasm between
then and now.
Where rivers could channel cargoes to and from Britannia’s interior, the author helpfully lists 18 principal routes
that were demonstrably favoured. Of these, the Thames, Severn and, presumably, the Trent offered the longest lines
of communication. Medieval records of Thames navigation present some surprises when we learn that, without the
locks to which we are now accustomed, grain-laden craft could still begin an unimpeded downstream journey from
a point 35 km upstream of Oxford. By the 15th century, however, upstream navigation had retreated to Reading.
In figure 9.8 we are shown a map of the riverine routes of medieval England and Wales, with an indication of their
relative use. By this period, a number of Roman towns and forts had become county towns. Here, one wonders just
how much of this later riverine traffic had been predetermined by choices of settlement and development, made in
the first century AD. A further point to ponder is how much of the archaeological evidence of riverine landing-
places may now lie in the path of the navigational dredger?
In ch. 3 we meet with an array or riverine and sea-going craft. On the Oceanus Britannicus and the Oceanus
Germanicus, it seems that high-bow craft, similar to the Blackfriars/St Peter Port vessels, offered the best stowage
capacity, with an optimum tonnage, perhaps not exceeding 72 tons. The author uses a helpful formula to calculate
relative quantities of wine barrels, grain sacks, ragstone or amphoras that might be carried in craft of this kind.
Some notable uncertainties arise where freeboard safety practices are unknown. When all currently known factors
are taken into account, it is suggested that an average merchant ship in British waters may have had a cargo-
carrying capacity of some 60 tons and a hold capacity c.33 cubic metres.
In ch. 8 we come to the heart of Dr Jones’ subject. Here is an appraisal of specific harbours, ports and
landing-places. Barry, Caerleon, Chepstow, Chester, Dover, Gloucester, Heronbridge, Ilchester, Lincoln, Little-
cote, London and Plymouth Sound are all accorded particular attention. This is certainly a curious heterogeneity.
Of all of Britannia’s noted coastal and riverine rural buildings, Littlecote, and its attendant stream, in the heart
of the Wiltshire chalklands, must by one of the least convincing contenders. Ilchester’s credentials hang on an
uncertain claim to a canal, yet we find no mention of the neighbouring area of Langport, where a cluster of villas
attend the former riverine margins of the Somerset Parrett. Here the villa of Low Ham, with its ship images in a
mosaic scene of the voyage of Aeneas, seems a surprising omission. We should certainly consider whether its estate
reached the bank of the Parrett.
Another omission is the chain of villas attending the navigable Medway, an estuary later noted for its prolific
production of wooden ships. The Solent’s array of coastal and maritime villas also awaits another day. This
includes the well-known villa at Brading and the great natural haven that formerly attended this residence. A
mosaic panel in its principal room exhibits an explicit maritime scene, proclaiming the owner’s seafaring interests.
Given Southampton’s reputation as a Saxon and medieval port, it would have been good to see some discussion
of Romano-British shipping in the environs of Southampton Water. Here, the Vespasianic lead pigs from the bed
of the Itchen and the submerged timbers of a Roman waterside revetment are worthy of attention. The identity of
the enigmatic Magnus Portus cited by Ptolemy, has also escaped discussion. Now that anchorage strews of
fragmented amphoras and other Roman ceramics have been recovered from the floor of the Eastern and Western
Solent, the nature of this ‘Great Port’ and its role in the maritime landscape of Britannia call for re-appraisal.
Ptolemy’s other named Romano-British anchorage, generally translated as ‘Safe-haven Bay’, and attributed to
Bridlington Bay, also deserves attention.
While virtually all reviewers will raise a point or two of this kind, these perceived omissions are best seen as a
matter of academic preference, and they should not detract from the sound scholarship of this book. If any criticism
is to be made, it must be applied to matters outside the control of the author. In the presentation of the book, the
relatively small font of the contents list and its printing on a verso page is something of an excessive paring. The
chapter titles introduced in small type on verso pages are equally eccentric and there is an annoying absence of
chapter numbers from the page headers. A few odd spellings like ‘Carrera’ (Carrara) marble and ‘Hadrianatic’
(Hadrianic) are, perhaps, artefacts of typesetting. On the positive side, the generous provision of sub-headings is
most helpful. For future reference, one wonders whether readers might have been still further assisted if these, and
the inventory entries, had been numbered as well. This inventory briefly describes 198 coastal and riverine
landing-places that beg further archaeological attention.
Is a pity to find that the publishers have impaired the author’s work by the poor quality of figure reproduction
we have become accustomed to enduring in BAR. In figure 2.5, the map of Roman roads in Britain is almost
unintelligible and the final fuzzy map, showing the relative use of roads noted in the Antonine Itinerary, simply
leaves us rubbing our eyes. The reader will also find the appendix maps unnumbered, a potential impediment to
future citation. Despite these niggles, it must be said that this book can never lapse into a shelved volume, usefully
read just once. Dr Jones’ coverage of his subject is thorough, wide-ranging and perceptive. Above all, it offers
counterpoise to any misapprehension we may have acquired while wading through so many standard works in
which the riverine and estuarine dimensions of Roman Britain have been virtually ignored. The author deserves our
thanks for a discerning work that is sure to become very well thumbed.
DAVID TOMALIN
Maritime Archaeology Trust, Southampton, England
The Principles of Arab Navigation

ANTHONY R. CONSTABLE and WILLIAM FACEY (Eds) with 5 Contributors
160 pp., colour throughout, 11 maps
Arabian Publishing Ltd, 4 Bloomsbury Place, Holborn, London WC1A 2QA, 2013, £35 (hbk),
ISBN 978-0957106017
The various maritime worlds of the Indian Ocean remain an enticing, intriguing and highly fertile area of study
within maritime archaeology and history. Although direct shipwreck remains are extremely rare, the wealth of
indirect evidence for trade, coupled with rich literary source material has allowed the cultures, trade routes and
goods of trade to be studied and reconstructed from a variety of different perspectives. Integral to the success of
the long-distance routes of connectivity that operated across this maritime space was the use of the monsoon
winds and an effective system of navigation. In particular the use of what scholars have termed ‘non-instrumental
navigation’, relying on the observations of the natural environment and the accumulation of knowledge handed
down through generations, rather than the scientific instruments that modern mariners are often unavoidably
wedded to.
Within this theme, the Arab mariners of the medieval and post-medieval Indian Ocean have captured particular
attention. Unlike their classical-era predecessors, who plied similar routes between South-East Asia, India, East
Africa and the coasts of the Arabian Peninsula, the voyages of Arab mariners have been writ large in the public
imagination, in part as a result of experimental archaeology projects such as Tim Severin’s Sohar and the more recent
Jewel of Muscat. Such experiments were based primarily on the literary sources available from which to reconstruct
shipbuilding techniques and navigational practices. In addition the Jewel of Muscat was also able to draw on the
archaeological evidence of the 9th-century AD Belitung shipwreck. The success of the original seafarers, whose
voyages such experiments sought to understand, was based on a knowledge and mastery of the seasonal monsoon
winds, further enhanced by a system of navigation that combined complex observations of the stars with disarmingly
simple methods for recording their positions. It is this system of navigation that lay at the heart of Arab Indian Ocean
seafaring and which is explained with great success in The Principles of Arab Navigation.
Scholars of the Indian Ocean are already likely to be familiar with the excellent Arabian Publishing reprint of
Alan Villiers’ classic account of sailing on a Kuwaiti ‘boom’ Sons of Sinbad, as well as the striking collection of his
photographs included in a sister volume. Those publications provide us with a view of a maritime world from the
early 20th century with a particular emphasis on coasting trade, rather than direct point-to-point open-water
voyaging, reliant on stellar navigation. The misapprehensions that this could present about the ‘state of the art’ of
modern Arab navigation are dealt with in full in ch. 7 of the volume under review here. In compiling such a volume
the editors acknowledge the debt owed by all of the contributors to the pioneering work of Gerald Tibbetts,
responsible for translating the treatise of the most famous of all Arab navigators; Ah·mad ibn Mājid. This reviewer
would strongly encourage readers to turn to Tibbetts’ 1971 volume Arab Navigation in the Indian Ocean before the
coming of the Portuguese, once they have finished enjoying the contents of Constable and Facey’s edited volume on
the broader subject.
The volume opens with two complementary chapters that set out the basic knowledge required to appreciate the
navigational techniques that were practised in the Indian Ocean. These take the reader through the basic concepts
with great success, helped in no small part by the excellent and informative diagrams and illustrations. Perhaps
inevitably, there is some overlap, leading to repetition between these two chapters; the first, by Anthony Constable,
setting out the basic ideas of navigation in the Indian Ocean and the second, by Hasan Salih Shihab, focussing more
specifically on the stellar navigational techniques of Arab seafarers. However, this really serves to embed the ideas
in the mind of the reader and it is helpful to have them presented in slightly different ways. Following this, in ch.
BOOK REVIEWS
3 Yacoub Yusuf al-Hijji outlines and explains the techniques used after 1850—that is mid 19th century—that relied
more on solar observations than stellar ones. After this, Kuwaiti navigators began using lunar observations instead
of older techniques. This provides a further interesting contrast to the techniques described in ch. 2, which itself
gives the reader the context against which any later developments must be understood. A number of recorded
deep-sea voyages are drawn on to provide the reader with an illustration of the effectiveness of these methods in
navigating along lines of latitude as well as on north/south courses.
The highlight of the volume for this reviewer came in ch. 4, by Eric Staples, which presents the navigational
experiments undertaken during the voyage of the Jewel of Muscat from Oman to Singapore in 2010. This work had
a threefold aim of understanding and experiencing the difficulties in documenting star measurement with tradi-
tional techniques, learning the use of the techniques and basic instruments of measurement, and experimenting with
different types of measurement in order to better understand their use. From the outset of Staples’ account it is
clear that there are considerable challenges and difficulties in taking suitable measurements that are not always
discussed in either the original literary sources, or in the modern theoretical discussion of such sources. This chapter
will reinforce to all readers of this journal the clear value of conducting such experimental archaeology and it
certainly adds further interpretative value to the entire Jewel of Muscat reconstruction project.
Chs 5 and 6 then return to the literary sources with Paul Lunde’s discussion of the maritime routes and sailing
times that are described in the navigational treatises written by Sulaymān al-Mahrı̄ in the early 16th century. The
breadth of maritime space covered by such works is in some ways overwhelming when thought about from our
modern perspective and often ever decreasing empathy with our natural surroundings. But Lunde reminds us that
such treatises were written for a specialized audience comprising the captains and pilots for whom long-distance
voyaging by such means was an everyday occurrence. Despite this it is always impressive to consider the detail, as
Lunde does, that is comprised within and can be extracted from such works, in order to illustrate the mechanism
by which the people and goods that are archaeologically attested on the land moved across the sea.
As noted, ch. 7 by al-Hijji provides an interesting counterpoint to the impression of modern Arab navigational
abilities given by Villier’s in his nevertheless enthralling writing. Following this, chs 8 and 9, by al-Hijji and Facey
respectively, direct the attention of the reader to the application of Arab navigational techniques on two very
different seas; the Mediterranean and the Red Sea. The discussion of the former of these is especially interesting
given that al-Hijji proposes a shared navigational practice from the Middle Ages onwards that spanned both the
Muslim and Christian mariners, despite the other differences that might have been held. Given that at other, earlier
periods of history, there are demonstrable pan-Mediterranean, cross-cultural maritime traditions revolving around
shipbuilding and rigging, this is maybe less surprising than it initially seems. We are again reminded that oceans and
seas connect, rather than divide, those ranged around their shores. Finally, in ch. 9, Facey’s account of Arab
approaches to navigating the relatively confined waters of the Red Sea, beset by the most prevailing of prevailing
winds from the north allows some of the flexibility of the overall tradition to be demonstrated. The treatises of
Ah·mad ibn Mājid or Sulaymān al-Mahrı̄ represented a long-held tradition of navigators who were equally at home
in the wide open spaces of the Indian Ocean, using the convenient, regular winds of the monsoon, as they were
dodging the reef-lined hazards and confinement to be found in the southern Red Sea on the route to Jeddah.
It will be clear from this review that The Principles of Arab Navigation is a fascinating, informative and highly
valuable publication on the subject. Its value is enhanced by high publication standards. This includes appendices
of sailing times, a clear system of notes, an index, and a wealth of lucid, well-produced and thought-out illustra-
tions. In many cases, the illustrations are a pleasure in their own right, and many are sure to be re-used to explain
key principles to future scholars of the subject. The book is well worth its cover price and represents a highly
scholarly work that will undoubtedly be of great interest to all those who wish to understand further the nuances
of human movement across and around the Indian Ocean. It should become a classic in its field.
JULIAN WHITEWRIGHT
Centre for Maritime Archaeology, University of Southampton, England
Sea Monsters on Medieval and Renaissance Maps

CHET VAN DUZER
144 pp, 115 colour illustrations
British Library Press, 96 Euston Road, London, NW1 2DB, 2013, £20 (hbk), ISBN 978-0712358903
This extremely attractive volume deserves a place on everyone’s shelves if they are in any way interested in maritime
art and iconography. At £20 hardback (in high-gloss paper and full colour) it is well worth buying for the illustrations
alone, but thankfully the images are joined by an exemplary text that is erudite without ever being elitist. Serious
scholars will find this volume of use for years to come thanks to its voluminous endnotes, just as much as more general
readers will return to its pages for education and entertainment alike. Chet Van Duzer is to be heartily congratulated
on producing such a welcome volume, and the British Library Press similarly congratulated on having the sense to
produce it to such high standards and at such a good price. Publishers of other, similar works, where the imagery is
fuzzy black-and-white on pulp paper but three or four times the price, should take note: it is possible to produce good
books at a reasonable price. Sea Monsters on Medieval and Renaissance Maps deserves to sell by the bucket (perhaps
monster?) load.
The book is essentially divided into five chapters in style if not name, the changeovers identified by a series of
‘pictorial excursi’ on specific themes akin to the ‘chapter’ breaks in a medieval illuminated manuscript, a nice nod to
the wider context of such illustrations. Thus ‘chapter’ one is broadly classical to early medieval, focusing on
mappamundi, before an excursus on the dangers of sea monsters; ‘chapter’ two, medieval, focusing on early nautical
charts before an excursus on whimsical sea monsters; ‘chapter’ three, late medieval before an excursus on the
cartography of the walrus; ‘chapter’ four, early renaissance before an excursus on (more) whimsical sea monsters;
and chapter five, late renaissance. These chapters are bookended by an exceptional introduction (on which more
below), the aforementioned endnotes, and an index both of the book and the manuscripts cited. The book is stuffed
full of good illustrations and detailed case-studies, but, to pick some stand-out examples, the following are
particularly fine both for the interest of the illustration and the text: discussion of the Gerona Beatus mappamundi of
the 9th-10th century on pp. 15–18; of the Gough Map of c.1400 on pp. 36–7; of the section on whales in 15th-century
charts on pp. 48–55; of the ‘manuscript with the most monsters’ (a mid 15th-century Latin manuscript of Ptolemy’s
Geography) on pp. 61–5; of the Rylands Library map of 1546 on pp. 94–7; of the Mercator ‘Great Map’ of 1569 on
pp. 103–05; and finally of the first Atlas (or ‘Theatre of the World’) of Abraham Ortelius of 1570 on pp. 108–11.
As the introduction outlines ‘curiously, the subject has been little studied’, so this book really is the only
substantial work on the topic; it sits usefully alongside Szabo’s Monstrous Fishes and the Mead-Dark Sea: Whaling
in the Medieval North Atlantic (reviewed in IJNA 38.2) and the reviewer’s own Ships and Shipping in Medieval
Manuscripts (reviewed in IJNA 39.1) as one of a series of works on the medieval marine arts produced in recent
years. The introduction clarifies that the main sources of sea monsters are mappamundi and nautical charts, and
that the types of monsters depicted are mostly sea-lions, dogs and pigs (with variations on and the intermixing of
these three). Van Duzer then goes on to argue that there are two often overlapping roles for such images; firstly,
as graphic records of information about sea monsters, including direct indications of danger to sailors, and
secondly as decorative elements. Here I would raise my one note of disagreement with what is otherwise a faultless
text. I would add a third role for such images, that of the broader moral, educative role of such monsters as
emblems of certain negative character traits and/or evidence of evil to be found among or encountered by readers
and viewers (seen especially where these monsters are used in illuminated manuscripts, of which Van Duzer
includes a fair number). But this is a minor quibble and does not detract from the tremendous service that Van
Duzer has performed in bringing this book together. It is unquestionably worth buying and will remain for the
foreseeable future the definitive work on the subject.
JOSEPH FLATMAN
English Heritage, London, England
Rathlin Island: an archaeological survey of a maritime landscape

Northern Ireland Archaeological Monographs 8
WES FORSYTHE and ROSEMARY McCONKEY with 26 Contributors

482 pp., 358 illustrations mostly colour, 21 tables
Northern Ireland Environment Agency, Waterman House, 5–33 Hill Street, Belfast BT1 2LA, 2012, £29.99 (hbk),
ISBN 978-0337097041
This book is a sequel to Strangford Lough: an Archaeological Survey of the Maritime Cultural Landscape, by
T. McErlean, R. McConkey and W. Forsythe (Belfast, 2002, reviewed in IJNA 32.2). The ‘windswept environment
of an island surrounded by ferocious tidal currents and regularly lashed by storms’ (p. 2) was deliberately chosen
for detailed survey to provide a contrast to the sheltered shoreline of a sea lough. Rathlin Island lies 5 miles (8 km)
off the north-east coast of Ireland. The island has a long arm running east-west with cliffs and deep water on its
north side, and a short arm running southwards from its east end where the land is lower. At the inner angle,
south-facing and sheltered, is Church Bay, the main harbour and settlement. The island covers an area of c.1420
ha (3500 acres), and its rocks are mainly limestone and basalt. The current population is just over 100. Its peak of
population was c.1200, towards the end of the 18th century.
BOOK REVIEWS
The first chapter presents an introduction and methodology. The aims of the survey were threefold: ‘to carry out
a comprehensive archaeological survey of the coastal zone’; ‘to put coastal monuments into context within the island
landscape and its past, and to assess the role of maritime activities in island life, economy and contacts’; and, ‘to
explore the cultural and historic influences acting on the island at various periods as expressed through archaeology’
(pp. 5–6). Chapter 2, by R. Quinn, B. Lafferty, K. Wesley and R. Plets, describes the natural environment, including
information about past sea-level changes. Chapter 3, ‘Archaeology and History’, consists of 29 sections (144 pp.) by
a variety of contributors. It presents a detailed chronological account of the island’s past based on published
historical and archaeological sources, oral history and place-name studies, enhanced by the results of the archaeo-
logical survey of the island carried out between 2002 and 2007 by the authors and colleagues from the Centre for
Maritime Archaeology at the University of Ulster at Coleraine. This information is set within its wider geographical
and historical contexts. Because of its location, Rathlin Island had links with the southernmost of the Scottish
islands, and with the Kintyre peninsula (only 13 miles/21 km away), as well as with the adjacent Irish mainland.
Subsequent chapters discuss specific themes (ch. 4, ‘The Caves of Rathlin’, ch. 5, ‘Fishing and Agriculture’ and
ch. 9, ‘Historic Settlement’) or groups of archaeological sites, such as those connected with the kelp industry (ch.
6), ‘Landing Places and Boat Shelters’ (ch. 7), and ‘Boats and Ships’ (ch. 8). These are followed by a gazetteer of
sites by type, ranging in numbers from two knapping sites and three lighthouses to 59 ‘landing places, boat shelters
and boat houses’, 82 shipwrecks, and 95 sites related to the kelp industry. Clearly important to the local economy,
the burning of seaweed to produce an alkali for various industrial uses, and later to produce iodine, lasted here
from c.1700 to 1940. There are three appendices, a bibliography and an insufficient index.
A key chapter is that on ‘Landing Places and Boat Shelters’, because without landing facilities life on an island
is not viable, and the range of such facilities demonstrates how the coast was used at various times. Rathlin has two
‘natural harbours’. One, Church Bay, is the main harbour and settlement today. The other, Ushet, lies at the
southern tip of the island, nearest to the mainland, and seems from map evidence to have once been the more
important. However, it was ‘blocked up in the 18th century to prevent smuggling’ (p. 262, though another mention
on p. 185 gives the date as 1817). It would have been interesting to know how this was done, whether it was only
aimed at vessels over a certain draught, and whether the blockage is still extant.
Beyond the two harbours, there are 25 locations where beaches have been modified to improve landing facilities.
The exposed nature of much of the coastline is demonstrated by the presence of 49 ‘boat shelters’, which are not
generally found in more protected locations. These consist of low walls creating a rectangle or oval open at one end,
well above the high tide mark, located where the natural topography suggests, sometimes making use of natural
banks or rock faces as one of the sides of the shelter. Protected by these walls a small boat would be safe from
damage by the wind or by debris thrown up by storms. The authors also list a few ‘nausts’, defined as ‘boat-shaped
hollows excavated into the coastal fringe at the top of the beach’, their sides often revetted with stone (p. 268). On
the ground the distinction between nausts and boat shelters must sometimes surely be unclear.
There are three boathouses on the island. In our study of boathouses in the Sound of Mull, an area of Scotland
where much of the maritime infrastructure is comparable to that in the north of Ireland, the boathouses were not of
vernacular build (round corners and thatched roofs) but had right-angled corners, gables and slated roofs. Each
belonged to a particular estate, and was linked to the big house by a well-engineered track (Martin and Martin, IJNA
32.1, 91–110). Those on Rathlin look similar, and as the island only had one landlord, why were there three
boathouses? One is located in Church Bay, and is presumed to have been built either by the landowner or by the
Coastguard (and is now the heritage centre). Sadly no measurements are given for it, as they could suggest the size
of boat it once housed. Another is not far away at Ballynoe. It is 4 m long externally, and its front opening is 2.38 m
wide. It was built as a store and later converted to a boathouse. Presumably it belonged to Ballynoe House, the oldest
on the island (pp. 179–80) and once the home of the island’s owner (no location is given, and the house is not included
in the gazetteer). If so, it would be older than and replaced by the Church Bay boathouse. The third example is at
Portawillin, on the east coast. It is described in the text as measuring 4.8 x 4.4 m, though it looks less square than that
in the photograph on p. 260. There is no picture or measurement of its main door, or any hint as to why it was built
and by whom.
Another chapter of interest to IJNA readers is ch. 8. ‘Boats and Ships’, by Wes Forsythe and Colin Breen. The
first section (4 pp.) discusses local boats. Skin boats were replaced in the 18th century by clinker-built skiffs, known
locally as ‘drontheims’, a corruption of ‘Trondheim’, as they were introduced as imports from Norway, though
they were soon adapted and built locally. The next section (7 pp.) discusses shipwrecks around the island,
quantifying them by date, by cargo, by countries of origin and destination. This is followed by a discussion on
finding wrecks using geophysical techniques (7 pp.). ‘Navigation’ (5 pp.) covers the hazards which caused some of
the shipwrecks, early charts and maps, and natural features used by locals as markers for navigation. ‘Ship graffiti’
from six sites on the island are presented, all dating from the 18th century or after. The chapter ends with a short
section on lighthouses.
There are lots of maps, but most are distribution maps demonstrating a particular point, using symbols not
words. The gazetteer gives references to the Irish grid, but nowhere in the book could I find an overall general map
on which I could easily locate the places mentioned in the text. The Strangford Lough volume presented a massive
amount of data but had no chapter of conclusions. The same is true of this book. In the Preface and ch. 1, however,
the authors explain that the island was deliberately chosen as a contrast to Strangford Lough, to assess how much
and what type of archaeological evidence of maritime activities survives on an exposed coastline. Yet at the end
there is no assessment of the similarities and differences between the two study areas and the surviving archaeo-
logical evidence. There is, however, a section at the end of ch. 1 (p. 18) which discusses new avenues of research
which the work presented here has already opened up.
The book is produced in a large format, with good quality paper and good reproduction of images, within a page
of where they are referred to. Most are reproduced at a useful size, but a few, particularly maps, are rather small,
especially some of the distribution maps, to an extent that it is hard to distinguish between the colours and symbols
used. Some material relating to particular sites or finds is presented in boxes. I found it very pleasing that even when
boxes spread over several pages they always start at the end of a paragraph in the main text, which I found much
easier than when the positioning of boxes causes paragraphs to be split.
There are lots of cross-references within the text and between the narrative and the gazetteer, though these are
not exhaustive. The gazetteer entry for the boathouse at Portawillin, for example, does not include any reference
to the illustration of it on p. 260. The presentation of the material, in a chronological narrative followed by chapters
on particular monument types, inevitably leads to repetition. The description of a whirlpool said to lie between the
island and the Scottish coast, its association with St Brecain, and discussion as to whether this was or was not
the well-known whirlpool between the Scottish islands of Jura and Scarba, appears in three places (though not in
the index). It is first discussed on pp. 109–10 in the medieval section of the archaeology and history chapter, then
on p. 195, relating to Brecain/Bracken’s Cave, and lastly on p. 280 in the introduction to the section on shipwrecks
(where Brecáin is written with an accent).
The Strangford Lough volume had a 6-page glossary. This book has none, though there are some definitions
provided within the text. The word ‘quay’ has been given a very broad definition, to cover what many would have
described as ‘piers’ and ‘jetties’ as well as quays. There are a few missing apostrophes, and other minor problems
which, like the repetition, could have been eliminated by more thorough editing. However, these are minor
criticisms. This is a well-illustrated and affordable publication about the archaeology of a maritime landscape,
using approaches which could successfully be applied in other areas. The research and fieldwork has been
thorough, and this volume provides a sound basis for further research on Rathlin and for comparisons with
research results over a much wider area.
PAULA MARTIN
Peat Inn, Fife, Scotland
IKUWA 3 Beyond Boundaries

Proceedings of the 3rd International Congress on Underwater Archaeology, London July 2008
JON HENDERSON (Ed.) with more than 66 Contributors

491 pp., b&w illustrations, some colour, diagrams etc
Dr Rudolf Habelt GmbH, Postfach 150104, D-53040 Bonn for Römisch-Germanische Kommission des
Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts and Nautical Archaeological Society, Fort Cumberland, Eastney,
Portsmouth PO4 9LD, UK, 2012, €55/£50 (£45 NAS members) + p&p (hbk), ISBN 978-3774038007
Apart from the fact that this volume has taken four years to come to press, it is an outstanding and interesting
publication running through a number of clear themes. Sixty-six papers in all, covering the following themes:
‘Managing Underwater Cultural Heritage’ (21 papers); ‘Nautical Archaeology’ (14 papers); ‘Maritime Landscapes’
(10 papers); ‘Freshwater Archaeology’ (6 papers); ‘New Methods’ (7 papers); and ‘Training, Education and Public
Outreach’ (8 papers). It is extremely well edited, almost exclusively illustrated in colour and a credit to the
publishers. The content similarly is well presented and it appears that considerable effort has been put into the
editing to ensure that the style and writing is uniform, possibly explaining the long production time. Such
consistency is not often seen in conference proceedings, where it seems editors want to get the publication over and
done with as quickly as possible.
IKUWA 3 starts off with a transcript of Robert Yorke’s remarkably frank opening speech, where he states: ‘. . .
what I am about to say is probably not the speech that the Minister for Culture (UK) would have made, had she
been able to attend’. He goes on to state ‘. . . the fundamental issue . . . is how well the underwater cultural heritage
is conserved and managed for current and future generations’. He then outlines the reasons why the UK govern-
ment continues to refuse to ratify the UNESCO Convention on the Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage
BOOK REVIEWS
2001, the objections being based on the potential weakening of sovereign immunity for its warships, and
‘significance’—the fear of a large increase in the level of financial and human resources needed to implement the
Convention. In many countries, Australia included, there is the additional problem of enabling legislation. It is all
very well signing the Convention, but it has to be supported by legislation that can be applied to back up the
Convention and changing legislation is not an easy issue.
It is obviously not possible to deal with each paper individually, so I have outlined the subject matter in each
section and then selected papers of particular interest.
The papers in the first section outline various countries’ position to managing underwater cultural heritage, and
regarding the UNESCO Convention: namely China; Malaysia; Sri Lanka; Ukraine; Croatia; Netherlands; Norway;
Poland; UK; the Isle of Man; and the Republic of Ireland (all signatories). Together with a number of other papers
dealing with legal issues, this section deals with aircraft wrecks and general issues. There is an interesting paper by
Vadi dealing with underwater cultural heritage and international investment law centring on the case of the Diana,
an issue also brought up in the paper about Malaysia. In essence, it is about the court case over the sale of the Diana
artefacts. The salvage company had entered into a contract with the Government of Malaysia to locate and salvage
the ship and under the terms of the contract ‘artefacts directly related to Malaysian history and culture would be
retained by the government, while the other recovered material would be sold at Christie’s’ and the proceeds would
be divided between the salvage company and the government. A dispute arose between the parties over the proceeds
of the auction and the quantity of items withheld from sale. The company maintained that they had been denied
their rights and claimed, in a curious way, that the contract was an investment. The argument is not well laid out and
it is difficult to follow but questions if such salvage can be termed an investment. Greene and Leidwanger describe
an intriguing hypothetical situation relating to the Napried, lost in 1872 with a cargo of Cypriot archaeological
treasures. The authors outline the potential ‘owners’ of the wreck that could include Cyprus, Syria, Lebanon,
Turkey, Greece, Italy, Egypt, Austria, Hungary, Croatia and the US! In theory the wreck could lie in the territorial
waters of the first four states, of which only Lebanon has signed the UNESCO Convention. Compared with the
Diana case this could become a real legal nightmare and the paper makes clear many of the potential problems that
the Convention will ultimately face. Another interesting paper, by Scott and McNeill, looks at the types of people
who are involved in aviation archaeology and their interests and directions. There is a poignant paper by Peacock
entitled ‘Management by Neglect’, which points up the dilemma that cultural heritage managers are faced with when
dealing with the public aspiration as to what maritime archaeology should be about. The author outlines the
lamentable issue of the Stirling Castle, which emerged from the Goodwin Sands in 1998 to present English Heritage
with a huge problem. It took two years to issue a surface recovery license in which time large numbers of artefacts
were lost. The author, rightly in my mind, states: ‘This delay was a grave misjudgement and highlighted the
limitations of preservation in-situ without a pro-active mitigation strategy.’ One can see the author speculating that
this situation is hopeless and maybe it would be better to involve treasure-hunters, thus at least saving something—a
real ‘wake-up call’ because unless something is done to change the current situation we are likely to see a lot more
people turning to the ‘dark side’. A number of papers in this section relate more to seascapes than managing cultural
heritage, or lie between the two and could have been located in the maritime landscapes section.
In the second section entitled ‘Nautical Archaeology’, Tilley once again revisits the rowing arrangements of
ancient warships, and suggests convincingly that the Olympias, a replica trireme, was built too heavy and that the
oars are in the wrong position, accounting for the poor top rowing speed of 7.1 knots over half-a-mile compared
with ancient evidence that Athenian triremes could cruise at 12 knots over 140 miles. Berry deals with the social
history of a vessel in the Murray River, South Australia through a neo-Marxist theoretical framework. I wonder
if the same conclusions could have been discerned using a non-neo-Marxist framework. It may have been more
informative to compare the neo-Marxist interpretation with other theoretical frameworks. Gribble outlines the
little-recorded contribution of foreign labour from the British colonies and elsewhere in a labour force assisting the
troops in the First World War. These labourers comprised 11% of the total strength of the British Army in the war,
coming from South Arica, China, Egypt, Fiji, Madagascar, Mauritius, the Seychelles and British West Indies. This
aspect of the war is summarized in the investigation of the loss of the Mendi with 649 of the South African Native
Labour Corps. Kelleher describes the wreck of the Santa Ana Maria in 1628 in Castlehaven Harbour, Cork,
Ireland. Martin outlines the work on the Duart Point wreck, in the Sound of Mull, Scotland (probably the 1653
Swan), describing the excavation and meticulous recording and reconstruction of the interior arrangements of the
vessel. Several papers in this section deal with ethnographic studies.
‘Maritime Landscapes’, the third section, seem to be everywhere—in the archaeological literature that is. The
landscapes often refer to early human habitation during and after the Ice Ages, the idea being to predict where
underwater sites may occur. Blackman and Lentini give an update on the work at Sicilian Naxos with details of the
reconstructed boatsheds. There is also a paper by Jézégou et al. on the investigation of the Roman harbours at
Narbonne using GIS that shows the changes in coastline and endorsed by geophysical surveys.
‘Freshwater Archaeology’ includes another paper on geo-referencing historical maps that is an important
development in the use of GIS. In this case Fozzati et al. look at the topography of pile dwellings in Lake Garda,
Italy, from old maps and earlier investigations over a 150-year period. This paper sits alongside a paper by Capulli
et al. who examine GIS techniques applied to similar lake dwellings in Lake Garda. There is also an overview of
Scottish crannogs by Henderson, the volume editor.
The section on ‘New Methods’ includes a number of papers on in situ preservation, a widely debated topic arising
from the wording of the UNESCO Convention. There is obviously a need to address the issue, as the Convention
says this is the first option, not the only one. As highlighted by Peacock this does not mean in situ preservation by
neglect. It requires a number of things. Firstly, and not actually included in the Convention, it requires an
assessment of a site. Is the site in danger? If so, what options are available to deal with this situation? Clearly in the
case of Stirling Castle there was no plan in place and when the inevitable happened, it proved disastrous archaeo-
logically and in terms of public relations. Such situations, where valuable archaeological information is lost, is
going to play into the hands of the treasure-hunters who will inevitably cite such situations as evidence that their
approach means at least that the material is preserved. Also, one has to consider that not every site in the world is
going to be archaeologically excavated, so some form of in situ preservation will be necessary. While one might
question the techniques being used at present where sites are excavated and the material recorded and re-buried,
thus absolving the organizations and institutions from the responsibility of conservation, we do need to know what
the advantages and disadvantages of the approach have so we can make an informed decision. So these papers,
Palma on a scoping study on the Swash Channel wreck, Peacock et al. on reburial methods, Kokko on the
Kronprins Gustav Adolf, and Auer on lessons learned in the case of the Princes Channel wreck (Gresham ship) are
all valuable reading. In this section, an important paper by Satchell on maritime archaeological archives shows that
there is a lack of proper recording of this information.
‘Training, Education and Public Outreach’ (section 5), an often-underestimated aspect of our field includes
various case studies showing public engagement in the discipline. It is possible that this approach over many
decades may create a change in the public perception of what maritime archaeology is and how it relates to the
public. Ultimately, it is the public who will change things. One has only to look at the Green movement: public
perceptions have been changed on a whole range of issues by the public applying political pressure.
A couple of minor points: each chapter has a number, but the table of contents does not and the sections in the
contents are not indicated in the body of the publication.
JEREMY GREEN
Western Australian Maritime Museum, Fremantle
Underwater Cultural Heritage and International Law

SARAH DROMGOOLE
400 pp.
Cambridge University Press, The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, England, 2013, £75,
ISBN 978-0521842310
Dromgoole concludes this book with a statement made by David Bederman—academic and former chairman of
Odyssey Marine Exploration Inc., an historic ship salvor—in 2002 where he expressed the view that the Convention
on the Protection of the Underwater Cultural Heritage 2001 ‘will be doomed to irrelevancy’. After 374 pages of
close analysis of legal, political and practical aspects of the Convention, Dromgoole concludes: ‘this seems far from
likely’. Negotiation of this Convention at UNESCO Headquarters in Paris over four years to 2001 was complex
and tense. On many issues there was a split between the so-called major maritime powers—France, Germany,
Japan, Netherlands, Norway, Russia, United Kingdom, United States of America (later called the ‘Group of
like-minded States’), which saw the draft Convention as upsetting the ‘delicate balance’ to be found in the United
Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea 1982 (UNCLOS)—and the remainder of the delegates. In some cases
the political issues spread over into personal relations particularly where the people involved had also been engaged
in negotiation of UNCLOS. In the years since 2001 many of these persons have retired, died or generally moved
on. There is now an opportunity for those who wish to look anew at the issues in light of the fact that the disasters
that were prophesized by some in 2001 have not eventuated. ‘Underwater Cultural Heritage and International Law’
provides guidance on the arguments that could be used to achieve this.
For example, one issue of significant importance during the negotiations was the treatment to be accorded what
the 2001 Convention calls ‘State vessels and aircraft’ particularly where the remains of these lie within the
archipelagic waters or territorial sea of another State. The Convention says the latter ‘should’ inform the former if
such remains are discovered (Article 7(3)). Some States consider that this detracts from the sovereign rights they claim
whereby they have the exclusive right to authorize any activity in relation to the remains. Dromgoole makes an
BOOK REVIEWS
argument that this provision is not as absolute as they allege. She relies on the primary imperative contained in Article
2(2) that States Parties shall co-operate in protecting UCH and concludes that ‘it seems inconceivable that a state
party would fail to contact another state party where that party was the flag state’ (p. 162). She also points to Article
2(8) which says that nothing in the Convention shall be taken as modifying a State’s rights with respect to its vessels
or aircraft. This should reassure States by ‘introducing a degree of flexibility into the interpretation of Article 7(3)’
(p. 159).
Dromgoole deals extensively with the issue of State jurisdiction. There is an excellent analysis of Articles 149 and
303 of UNCLOS. She discusses how these two Articles, both of which contain serious flaws, could be interpreted
to provide them with some substance. Jurisdiction was a highly controversial matter during the negotiations for the
2001 Convention. The way it was eventually dealt with is very complex and based on ambiguities which allow
different methods of implementation. These are explained in depth. Her conclusion is that the support of flag States
‘is absolutely essential if the Convention is to succeed in fulfilling its primary objective’ (p. 305). The accuracy of
this statement depends largely on how one views the politics of the situation. The flag States in question include the
USA, the UK, Germany, France, Norway and Russia.
As is noted in a postscript France has now become party, and this raises the possibility that, over time, States
vehemently opposed to aspects of the 2001 Convention in its early days change their attitude as they see themselves
being left without influence. This has happened, for example, in respect of the UNESCO Convention on the Means
of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property 1970
(noted by Dromgoole p. 373). In the case of the 2001 Convention an impetus in this direction could well be
provided by the Meeting of States Parties and the establishment of the Scientific and Technical Advisory Body
(Article 23). Dromgoole devotes only a page to this and it is basically descriptive (p. 361 with further brief reference
on p. 367). Her views on the evolution of these bodies would have been most welcome for they are capable of
becoming organs with immense power over future developments in all aspects of UCH. Non Member States will
find themselves with little influence on those developments. This was one issue which has persuaded the Nether-
lands to consider becoming party to the 2001 Convention in 2014. When the time comes for the ‘flag States’ to
consider becoming party, Dromgoole’s arguments on such matters as sovereign immunity and State jurisdiction
should be highly influential in enabling them to reconcile their positions under UNCLOS with the requirements of
the 2001 Convention.
Indeed, the book as a whole concentrates on the positions and arguments of the ‘major maritime powers’. Other
States receive little attention. There is only passing attention paid to Canada although Canada played a significant
role during the negotiations. In addition, Robert Grenier, from Parks Canada, as Chairman of the ICOMOS
International Scientific Committee for the Underwater Cultural Heritage and an observer at the negotiations
forcefully presented the position of archaeologists both during the discussion of the Annex and in Plenary Session.
On the other hand, Australia appears at greater length, mainly as a result of the Agreement between Australia and
the Netherlands Concerning Old Dutch Shipwrecks 1972 (in particular p. 320). She records Maarleveld as writing
that this ‘is nothing more than a deed of transfer of ownership on the condition of shared benefits’ (p. 110) but
Australia regards it as being a bilateral treaty. Of States apart from Australia and Canada, the Group of 77 is seen
almost as irrelevant (p. 366) in spite of the fact that it is increasing rapidly in political and financial power.
Reference is made to Australia, Canada, China, Ireland and South Africa as likely to become party to the 2001
Convention and begin to exert influence on its future direction (p. 367). Just what that influence will be remains to
be seen as during the negotiations they strongly supported the Group of 77.
This book is an excellent source of information generally on law surrounding the two Conventions. For example,
there is an interesting discussion on inter-state agreements furthering the 2001 Convention’s objectives under
Article 6 (p. 338). These have to be designed for better protection of the heritage, but Dromgoole foresees a role for
such agreements to deal with issues of shared heritage or ‘particularly significant or vulnerable wrecks’
(p. 343).
Salvage is another topic dealt with at length, although the discussion in the main relates to Common Law States.
Dromgoole acknowledges this, but it would have been interesting for an in-depth discussion also of how other
States deal with the same issues. When the subject first came up for discussion in Paris, a number of States were
plainly puzzled as to why it was on the agenda at all as it would not be relevant to UCH in their jurisdiction. How
courts in the United States of America handle such cases involving salvage law is examined at some length as the
federal law they apply ‘has been the law of choice for many shipwreck salvors in light of its historically favourable
settlements’ (p. 167). Dromgoole reaches what can be the only correct decision on the value of these cases from the
point of view of policy; namely, that the judiciary is ‘seriously fettered in what it can do to protect the public interest
in historic wrecks. Ultimately, and at its core, the law of salvage is about financially incentivising recovery’ (p. 199).
The 2001 Convention allows very little scope for the application of salvage law. Dromgoole would go further and
recommends that States which do currently allow for its application should ‘make a clear and outright exclusion’
(p. 204). Only in this way can they be absolutely certain that there will be no future conflict between salvage law and
obligations under the 2001 Convention.
The 2001 Convention states that one of the conditions on which salvage can be allowed is if ‘any recovery of the
underwater cultural heritage achieves its maximum protection’ (Article 4(c)). This brings into play Rule 2 of the
Rules Concerning Activities Directed at UCH contained in the Annex. It deals with what is commonly known as
commercial exploitation which is prohibited by Article 2(7) of the 2001 Convention. Dromgoole begins her study
of this issue with a broad analysis of policy and politics starting with a study of the various models that could be
used for dealing with commercial exploitation. One in particular is treated at some length; namely, that which
involves the sale of artefacts. She quotes at length from Greg Stemm, CEO of Odyssey Marine Exploration, who
refines the concept by drawing a distinction between ‘cultural artefacts’ and ‘trade goods’ (p. 215). According to
Stemm, the former should be protected while the latter can be sold. Such a policy was partially applied in the case
of HMS Sussex in an agreement between Odyssey and the British Government which was roundly criticized by
many archaeologists and greatly embarrassed the Government. A further quote is from Hutchinson who states that
what is done with archaeological material should be appropriate to its significance (p. 223).
Unfortunately, the cut-off date for material in the book is July 2012. This means that there is little examination
of events surrounding HMS Victory, Odyssey and the Maritime Heritage Foundation, a registered charity estab-
lished by the Government especially to recover, preserve and display in public museums artefacts from the wreck.
However, that being said, it is disappointing there was not more analysis of actions by the three parties up to that
time (p. 239). As Dromgoole points out (p. 233), Rule 2 does not prohibit a for-profit operator undertaking
recovery work on a wreck. However, there has to be full conformity with the Rules and be properly authorized. As
there can be no sale of objects discovered, the operator cannot be paid in objects recovered and financing for the
work must be arranged before this commences. The author does state that the provisions for commercial exploi-
tation appear to have had little impact on the positions taken by the major maritime powers.
Further in the context of commercial exploitation, there is no discussion of how the 2001 Convention provisions
would impact on the situation in places such as South East Asia where oversight is not as all-encompassing as in
Europe, administration is more flexible, funding is not readily available and there is no long archaeological
tradition, particularly as regards UCH. Dromgoole’s insights into this particular problem would have been
invaluable. Perhaps this may be redressed in the next edition.
Underwater Cultural Heritage and International Law is the only comprehensive work on this topic. It is well
researched and well written. Much thought has gone into the arguments it presents. As such it is essential material
for all lawyers, government advisors, administrators and archaeologists who wish to have further information and
understanding of this topic. But is must be read with the understanding that much of the argument on sovereign
immunity and jurisdiction is crafted with the major maritime powers in mind. Dromgoole is an advocate for
maintaining the relevance of UNCLOS in the field of UCH, even with all its flaws.
PATRICK J. O’KEEFE
University of Queensland, Australia
Preserving Archaeological Remains in Situ

Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites 14/1–4
DAVID GREGORY and HENNING MATTHIESEN (Eds) with 108 Contributors

490 pp., many b&w and colour illustrations
Maney Publishing, Suite 1C, Joseph’s Well, Hanover Walk, Leeds LS3 1AB, 2012, €67 (sbk),
ISBN 978-1907975875, ISSN 1350-5033
This is an important book, although technically speaking it is not a book at all. But if one has carried it while
travelling it certainly feels like one: almost 500 pages printed on heavy paper in a good paperback cover. It should
probably figure on the shelves of most archaeologists and certainly those who have a role in management decisions
with long-term implications for archaeological sites. Technically, however, it is four numbers in one volume of the
journal Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites, and those with access to the Ingenta databases can
also find it online. The volume contains an editorial and 41 contributions; the proceedings of the 4th International
Conference on Preserving Archaeological Remains In Situ, which went under the acronym PARIS 4, held at the
National Museum of Denmark in Copenhagen in May 2011. I regretted that I could not attend the conference at
the time, but I and others have quickly been compensated when this volume arrived at the end of 2012, some 18
months after the event. The organizers, editors, contributors and reviewers are to be applauded for this. It almost
took me longer to read—the information is dense and not necessarily written to read as a novel. Reviewing 42
entries in 2000 words would mean less than 50 words for each. So, rather, I take the quality of the contributions
BOOK REVIEWS
and the research that lies behind them for granted, and I will do the same for the editing. I have only spotted
occasional mistakes in dates and references, I will therefore comment on a few contributions that struck me, and
use the content of the others as a ‘proxy’ for directions that our discipline is taking and how these influence
present-day research, management and funding.
The book is organized in four sections, see table of contents. The first deals with the theme of degradation and
addresses natural processes, laboratory and field experiments, and humanly induced effects: nine articles in all and
27 authors. In many ways the theme is continued in the last section, theme 4, which tries to resolve the question of
whether the effectiveness of preservation in situ can be documented, and whether measures to reduce microbial and
chemo-physical degradation can be improved. Theme one covers corrosion under different soil circumstances,
reburial and its aerating effects, base-line studies and time series, bio-erosion of stone artefacts in sediment-lean
underwater environments, compaction of deep layers of wetland sediments under the point-load of modern
construction, the environmental impact, and, by consequence, the effect on archaeological remains of commonly
used wood preservatives in wetland environments. At a different level, the latter should in effect be a warning
against more than very restrictive use, for very restricted time periods, of sacrificial or otherwise toxically degrad-
able substances and appliances to counter degradation of archaeological sites in underwater or groundwater
environments. Particularly thought-provoking is an article on modelling the environmental friendliness of man-
aging the ‘carbon footprint’ and flood-plain control from observations at Star Carr.
The second theme goes under the title ‘Monitoring and Mitigation case studies’ and has 15 articles from 48
authors. As can be expected it is even more of a mixed bag than the first section, but it is good stuff. Although
presented as case studies, some of it is fundamental modelling of processes, some of it sits at the interface between
dealing with invisible, buried and hardly known archaeological remains and the integrated conservation of
architectural remains; of accessibility, enjoyment and tourism management, both under water and above. Some
are really case studies and the geographical spread is wide. Scandinavia and Northern Europe are evidently well
represented at a Copenhagen conference, but Italy, Australia, New Zealand, China and the Emirates figure as
well. It is clear that monitoring has become as central an issue in archaeological heritage management as in any
other field, and it is equally clear that scientific thinking and approaches have been boosted enormously to serve
that need. Nevertheless, reading the section makes me jump on some of my hobby horses. One is that sharing
heritage is crucial: accessibility and enjoyment is key, in the museum, in publications, on the net, but also in the
field. Managing accessibility calls for monitoring and for mitigation, and a range of these case studies address
that. Mitigation of adverse effects, be they visitor induced or deriving from natural causes, is part of that game,
part of any coherent management strategy.
In the underwater domain, wreck trails, public archaeology and conscious management of accessible sites have
fortunately developed all around the world. In this book it is some solid Italian work that stands out in the context
of accessible public archaeology. The aim of mitigation is to preserve as much as possible as is. Clearly, there is
nothing wrong with that and great progress has been made. What I am worried about is that the word ‘mitigation’
is only interpreted in that very specific sense. That more and more attention—research and management alike—is
diverted from the other meaning of mitigation; making the best of what cannot be preserved through collection and
analysis of data that informs us on the past in novel and creative ways. This worry does not apply at all to
archaeology on land where mitigation of development processes may have its issues, but nevertheless feeds into a
wide range of research approaches. But it does apply to the maritime environment, where even development-led
research is far too often reduced to a graphical reproduction of a site’s condition without knowing what the affected
site actually was, or, even worse, by labelling it with unsubstantiated inferences from other than field data. The
problem is even more prominent where the dynamics of the environment are such that mitigation is about
immediate observation and assessment, and also about deferring the need of immediate action to gain the time
necessary to develop a proper research and management design for relevant on-site work and for securing funding.
In that sense I find it very important that the editors decided to include a contribution by Daniel Pascoe on Stirling
Castle (1703) and other Goodwin Sands wrecks. It is not a new story, but it is exemplary of the half-hearted
response of a half-hearted policy that leads to paper preservation for preservation’s sake; and of monitoring and
‘mitigation’ that leads to an understanding of the degradation history of the past few decades, but leaves everyone
empty-handed as to what could have been learned in terms of ship-archaeology and history from the lost remains
and their distribution. It is perhaps not fair to criticize approaches that were started many decades ago, but has the
situation really improved? Half-hearted and makeshift policies are what contribute most to the misunderstandings
surrounding the principles of in situ preservation in underwater cultural heritage (UCH) management (Maarleveld,
2011, Open letter to Dr Sean Kingsley, Wreck Watch International, regarding his questionnaire on in situ
preservation. Journal of Maritime Archaeology 6, 107–11). The now almost forgotten Rooswijk scandal of 2005
refers to exactly the same region, policy and environment as Stirling Castle.
The next section, with 7 articles by 10 authors, is devoted to the third theme. It starts with an essay ‘Take the
Right Decision Everybody’. It is not as imperative and worrying as such a title suggests considered under the
theme’s heading: ‘Protocols, Standards and Legislation’. In fact the article addresses the role of monitoring in
informing decision-making, and making it possible to ‘take the right decision’. The example used is the World
Heritage site of Bryggen in Bergen, Norway, where the ‘big ship of Bergen’, ranges of masts and head beams and
other medieval ship parts were uncovered. Another article discusses the necessity for standards in interpreting soil
characteristics to compare monitoring results from different burial environments. Nevertheless, this section is the
least coherent part of the book. Sustainable management of dendro-sample archives, the creation of a monitoring
organization in Belgium, and the cost-effectiveness of heritage preservation are some of the issues that are
addressed. One paper cites the Burra Charter of 1979 and the preservation of floor mosaics in Turkey; and opens
up the tension between ideals-and-principles and legislation-and-practical-impediments. The Burra Charter is a
mightily inspirational document of great influence worldwide on conservation practices. I am not sure how well it,
or the Nara Document on Authenticity (1994) cited elsewhere, are known in circles of European archaeologists
except those directly involved in the World Heritage programmes.
The last section, theme 4, 10 articles by 23 authors, is the core of the endeavour. It is here that the editors and
others present their long-term approaches to the monitoring and preservation of the unexcavated parts of the
Nydam Mose site, where the Nydam boat was excavated in 1859 and major excavations were carried out between
1989 and 1997. It is here that the Somerset peatlands, and the never-ending story of changing water tables and
flood-control in the Netherlands, illustrated by the Schokland World Heritage site, can be compared. It is here also
that the complicated story of the Rose Theatre, London, is retold in the context of preservation in situ. Although
reported in a matter-of-fact way, it brings back all the reminiscences of the heated debate and the continuing story
of experiencing the site’s significance; ‘Excavation’, archaeological management and continuous monitoring ‘as
Theatre’ in optima forma (Tilley, C., 1989, ‘Excavation as Theatre’, Antiquity 63, 275–280). There are other positive
contributions: a short story of 150 years of integrated conservation in London; one of 30 years of monitoring in
England; a somewhat superficial overview of solving dilemmas related to the management of UCH sites worldwide;
and a survey of visitor experience at colonial sites in Australia and New Zealand.
An article under the fascinating double title: ‘Is Preservation in Situ an unacceptable Option for Development
Control? Can Monitoring Prove the Continued Preservation of Waterlogged deposits?’ deals with organizational
issues and guidance that define what is and can be monitored, followed by a nice comparative study relating to
the second question. But what of the first? Here ‘unacceptability’ refers to the way guidance notes are to be
interpreted and therefore, indirectly, to the system of financing development-led interventions, which is at odds
with providing budgets for long-term monitoring and management. Although the issue is only lightly touched on
in this article, the financing of development-led interventions is of fundamental importance, and this can be read
between the lines of many other contributions. The book shows that enormous progress has nevertheless been
made, and that the research community has been successful in securing funds for joint research programmes that
give us a better understanding of both degradation and preservation. For underwater work this is an enormous
asset, and, an enormous improvement compared to, say, 15 years ago. The production of this worthwhile book
is a major achievement and despite or because of its wide variety and range. However, I am wary of too much
satisfaction, especially in relation to the underwater environment. Understanding how heritage decays is not the
same as making good use of it. Managers and funding bodies should know that. But do they? Direct archaeo-
logical research is an equally important avenue to mitigation as trying to control natural processes, which in the
end can only be done to a very limited extent. Technocratic solutions are an easy priority for funding bodies,
developers, agencies and researchers alike. When archaeology under water was a nascent discipline, and this
Journal came into being, diving and fieldwork technology had all the attention, whereas preservation technology
was overlooked. But important as both may be, they are accessory; they should not be seen as the easy option.
THIJS J. MAARLEVELD
University of Southern Denmark, Esbjerg
La Trinidad Valencera
DAVID ATHERTON
127 pp., c.150 illustrations, mostly colour, 4 maps/plans
Privately published, available from the author, 15 Temple Road, Derry-Londonderry, N. Ireland BT47 6TJ, UK
(post and packing £3.50/€4.20), 2013, £15/€20 (hbk), ISBN 978-0956799319
Subtitled ‘The History, Discovery and Excavation of a Spanish Armada Vessel in Kinnagoe Bay, County Donegal,
Ireland, by the City of Derry Sub Aqua Club’, this is a labour of love. It records how in the early 1970s, before the
introduction of legislation to protect historic wreck-sites, and in the face of bureaucratic obstacles, the members of
an amateur diving club were determined to protect the historic shipwreck they had found, to excavate it to high
BOOK REVIEWS
standards, and to see the finds lodged in a museum. Few such groups have been so determined and ultimately so
successful. And fewer still have produced such an eloquent record of their achievement.
Of course there were problems along the way, and the aim of this book is to record what actually happened, and
how the final success was achieved. Part 1 (pp. 13–30) summarizes the history of the Armada, and the story of the
Trinidad Valencera, her wrecking, and the fate of the survivors. Part 2: ‘20th Century’ (pp. 31–102), presents an
account of the discovery of the wreck and subsequent work. The club had started searching for the wreck in 1968,
but had targeted the less accessible eastern end of Kinnagoe Bay. One February day in 1971, on a training dive from
the shore close to the car park at the western end, some club members stumbled upon some bronze guns, two of
them bearing the arms of Philip II of Spain. This was the wreck they had been searching for. The 13 divers decided
to keep their find secret while they worked out how to handle it responsibly.
Two of them drove to Dublin to contact the authorities and seek advice. They tried the National Museum, the
Military Museum, the Spanish Embassy and finally the law courts, where they were advised to establish their claim
as Salvor in Possession under salvage law. This done, they lifted various artefacts, including the four large bronze
guns. Then came a period of discussion and planning. The club agreed that ‘the conserved remains should, if
possible, be kept in a single collection to be housed in a local museum’ (p. 34), and the wreck should be surveyed
and excavated to the highest possible archaeological standards.
1972 was spent trying to organize funding, archaeological support, and conservation facilities, ‘it was better
to leave things where they were for yet another year until all the resources were available to record, recover and
conserve them correctly’ (p. 35). Excavation started in 1973, under the direction of Dr Colin Martin from St
Andrews University. ‘Nothing was ever touched unless his archaeological team was present’ (p. 39). There
follows an account of excavation methods, the finds, and how a holding conservation facility was established in
a World War II bunker in the grounds of Magee College, Londonderry. The finds, many of which are illus-
trated, provided much evidence for life on board, and for the materials carried for the invasion of England. The
wreck was protected ‘not only by the known lack of treasure, but also by the welcome given to genuinely
interested visiting divers. Visitors to the site were never refused permission to dive provided they undertook to
touch nothing’ (p. 54).
The club not only called in an archaeologist at an early stage, but decided ‘to provide the logistic support to
enable the most efficient use of valuable archaeological resources’ (p. 74). They built a site hut, and then a raft
which was moored over the site as a platform for a water dredge and a hookah system. ‘Many Club members recall
spending more time laying concrete than diving’ (p. 74). This reviewer was part of the archaeological team for
several seasons, and can testify to the cheerful and skilful support which we received from the club. They were a
pleasure to work with and to relax with at the end of each day.
It was easy to forget amidst the banter on site how much work went on behind the scenes to protect the wreck
and ensure a secure future for the artefacts. ‘Legal Headaches’ (pp. 88–92) summarizes the administrative and legal
difficulties which dogged the project. There was at the time no legislation to protect historic wrecks in Ireland. The
National Museum in Dublin was not interested, because ‘objects from the wreck form part of the Spanish national
heritage and have only the most tenuous connections with Ireland’ (p. 90). The Department of Transport and
Power, the home of the Receiver of Wreck, did not reply to letters. Eventually the club was granted an export
licence so the artefacts could be taken to Northern Ireland for conservation by the Ulster Museum in Belfast. Only
by threatening to force the sale of the artefacts could the club get an agreement in 1982 whereby the Irish state gave
the objects to the Ulster Museum, who paid for their conservation, while Derry City Council would provide display
space. Twenty-three years later the dedicated Tower Museum in Derry was opened. Meanwhile, in 1987 the Irish
parliament passed an Act protecting historic wrecks.
The excavation of La Trinidad Valencera was carried out during the ‘Troubles’ (sectarian conflict in Northern
Ireland), but ‘the proliferation of Police and Army checkpoints did not prevent divers travelling to a more peaceful
environment in which to work’ (p. 94). Not everyone in the club, however, retained the initial enthusiasm for
shipwreck excavation, and ‘as the years went by. . . the numbers of members interested in the project declined’
(p. 95). The conflict of interests came to a head when the then Project Coordinator was ejected from the club, which
retained all the equipment acquired for the excavation. ‘The 1983 season was only able to go ahead because the few
remaining interested members replaced the missing gear with their own personal equipment’. This book is dedi-
cated to the two Project Coordinators who stuck with the project despite all the difficulties, and ensured that the
archaeology came first.
‘Part III: 21st century’, starts with a contribution by Bernadette Walsh, of Derry City Council Museum Services,
describing the display in the Tower Museum in Derry, telling the story of the discovery and excavation of the
wreck. Further artefacts are on display in the Ulster Museum, together with the finds from another Armada wreck,
the Girona. The next section is contributed by Connie Kelleher of the Underwater Archaeology Unit, Department
of Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, describing further investigations of the site between 2004 and 2006. An
Appendix compares the Trinidad Valencera with the Girona, revealing ‘differences in construction, original
purpose, manning, eventual fate, style of excavation and the nature of the artefacts recovered’ (p. 117). The Girona
yielded much ‘treasure’ but no evidence of the ship, while on the Trinidad Valencera finds were more mundane, with
good survival of organic materials. These two collections complement one another.
By talking to those involved and scrutinizing the archives, David Atherton has preserved for future generations
a balanced account of the club’s involvement in this major excavation. Their achievement was impressive, and
working with them was great fun. This book is well produced and presented, with lots of relevant illustrations.
Published 42 years after the wreck was found, it has appeared before the archaeological report, although that is
now in preparation.
PAULA MARTIN
Peat Inn, Cupar, Scotland
Mussolini’s Navy: a reference guide to the Regia Marina 1930–1945

MAURIZIO BRESCIA
256 pp., over 400 illustrations, including maps, colour photographs and camouflage
Seaforth Publishing, 47 Church Street Barnsley, S70 2AS, 2012, £40 (hbk), ISBN 978-8148321151
This compelling study provides a wealth of information on the history, infrastructure, matériel, organization and
operations of the Italian Navy of the Second World War. Brescia emphasizes the point that the wartime Italian
Navy was a relatively modern force, having emerged from the conflicts that created the modern state between 1860
and 1870, linking Piedmontese, Neapolitan, Venetian and even Papal elements into a national force. The psycho-
logical impact of the humiliating defeat inflicted on this half-formed service by the Austrians at Lissa in 1866 drove
the next 50 years of Italian naval thinking. Victory in 1918, celebrated by naming post-war heavy cruisers after
towns and provinces taken from Austria at the peace, healed some of the scars. In 1922, the Washington Treaty,
which gave Italy parity with France, bolstered the self-esteem of the service, and focused much of its thinking on
France. The result was a fleet designed for short-range, high-speed surface warfare and relatively static submarine
operations. In the mid 1930s the focus of naval policy shifted to the battlefleet, modernizing four old battleships
and building the four new units of the Littorio class. Cruiser and destroyer building was cut or curtailed, exposing
the limits of Italian finance and industrial capacity. When the ambitions of Mussolini’s Fascist regime plunged the
Navy into war in June 1940 it would be against Britain. Whatever the service might have achieved against France,
it was not ready to face the battle hardened and highly capable Royal Navy. Regia Marina went to war desperately
weak in two key areas, naval aviation and modern electronics, including sonar and radar. Despite those problems
the service managed to keep the Axis armies in North Africa supplied, and came close to throttling Malta. When
Italy surrendered in 1943 much of the fleet changed sides, serving with the Allies in supporting roles, down to the
end of the war. As a result the post-war Italian Republic retained a significant navy, with ships and personnel from
the wartime force.
Before discussing the materiel of the fleet, Brescia focuses on naval bases and shipyards, emphasizing the limits
of Italian productive capacity. While Italian cruisers and destroyers were fast and well built they lacked endurance,
and suffered from flawed gun-mountings. Fitting two medium-calibre guns in a fixed cradle meant that when fired
the shells interfered with each other’s ballistic performance, leading to very wide salvo dispersion. The massive
pre-war submarine fleet had been designed for static operations, more intelligent minefield laying than the dynamic
hunter-killer approach of the German U-boats. Wartime production of major warships was limited, but some very
effective escort vessels were designed and built for the convoy route to North Africa. Light craft and special forces
achieved disproportionate success, famously sinking two British battleships in Alexandria harbour, but they could
not compensate for damaging defeats at Taranto and Cape Matapan, let alone the crippling shortage of oil fuel that
limited operations after mid 1941, or the absence of naval air cover. The Navy had lost control of all aviation assets
to the Air Force, and entered the war without a carrier, or any dedicated fighter aircraft. Allied to the lack of radar
this weakness gave the Royal Navy control of the skies, while British penetration of Luftwaffe ‘Enigma’ exposed
Italian convoys to attack. Considering the incomplete carrier Augustus, Brescia observes that the failure of the Air
Force to train the necessary pilots made completing the ship pointless, the air group would not be ready before mid
1945.
A section of colour images, contemporary photographs, flags and elegant camouflage schemes rounds
off a book that is both a rich source of information and insight, and a visual treat. Regia Marina built some
strikingly beautiful ships in all categories, and the photographic skills to capture them for posterity: it would be
hard to improve on the image of the heavy cruiser Trieste on p. 75. The reproduction of drawings, photographs
and camouflage designs is superb, as good as anything from this highly rated publisher. The book ends,
BOOK REVIEWS
appropriately enough, with a note on the Italian photographic studios that produced so many of these striking
images.
Regrettably there is no discussion of the 140,000 officers and men who served in the wartime fleet. We
do not learn how the sailors were recruited and trained, whether they were long-service volunteers or short-
service conscripts, if there is any regional bias in recruiting officers or men. Only a handful of Admirals
and heroes get a mention in the ‘Who’s Who’ chapter. That omission aside, Brescia’s book will be essential
reading for all those studying the Italian Navy in the Second World War. It provides an ideal companion
for Erminio Bagnasco’s striking 2011 book on the Littorio class battleships, from the same publisher, (reviewed
IJNA 41.2: 468), and in both cases Ralph Riccio’s involvement has ensured an accessible and elegant English
language text.
ANDREW LAMBERT
War Studies, King’s College, London
Of Seas and Ships and Scientists: the remarkable story of the UK’s National Institute of
Oceanography 1949–1973
A. S. LAUGHTON, W. J. GOULD, M. J. TUCKER and H. S. J. ROE (Eds) with 10 Contributors
360 pp., 120 b&w photos and diagrams
James Clark & Co, The Lutterworth Press, PO Box 60, Cambridge CB1 2NT, 2010, £26.25 (sbk),
ISBN 978-07188932302
It would not be too much of an exaggeration to suggest that the three-and-a-half-year circumnavigation of the
Royal Navy’s HMS Challenger from 1872 to 1876 introduced the world to oceanography, the study of all aspects
of the science of the deep oceans. On the other hand, nor would it be too unreasonable to suggest that the British
Government was so shocked by its own largess in financing this first example of ‘big science’ that it was reluctant
to enter the oceanographic fray again until it was more or less forced to by events surrounding the First World War.
In fact, despite its proud maritime traditions and history, Britain had no organization entirely devoted to the study
of the deep ocean until the National Institute of Oceanography (NIO) was established in 1949 under the leadership
of Dr (later Sir) George Deacon in 1949. This book tells the remarkable story of the hugely productive first 24 years
in the life of the new institute up to its change of status and name in 1973, by then within the relatively young
Natural Environment Research Council. Written and edited almost entirely by ex-NIO scientists, it provides a
fascinating, and surprisingly entertaining read, combining lots of science and technology with fairly hard-nosed
politics overlain by a genuine pride and affection for Dr Deacon and his inspired leadership.
The first four chapters, written or compiled by Dr Deacon’s historian daughter, Margaret, one of his successor
Directors, Tony Laughton, and long-time wave guru Michael Longuet-Higgins, place NIO into its historical
context. They describe how NIO brought together the staff of three pre-existing organizations: the Discovery
Investigations established in the 1920s to study the Southern Ocean and prompted by the economics of the
Antarctic whaling industry; the oceanographic branch of the Hydrographic Office; and finally the Admiralty’s
research Group W, set up in 1944 to study waves, initially in relation to the anticipated amphibious landings on
enemy-defended shores. The natural Director of the new institute was Dr Deacon who, initially as a chemist, had
broken his oceanographic teeth in the Discovery Investigations in 1927, and had been leading Group W since its
inception. Initially, NIO’s disparate parts remained geographically separated, but in 1953 they all moved into
buildings at Witley in Surrey, originally built by the Admiralty in 1943 for Radar research. These buildings, with
many changes and additions in subsequent years, were to be the home of UK Government oceanographic research
for more than four decades until it moved to its current site in Southampton in 1995.
The bulk of the book consists of a series of chapters summarizing some of the remarkable advances made by NIO
staff during this fascinating period, often in collaboration with other organizations both from Britain and overseas,
and including participation in major international programmes such as the International Indian Ocean Expedition,
the International Geophysical Year and the Deep Sea Drilling Project. They document the huge contributions made
by NIO scientists to our understanding of ocean biology, of waves, tides and ocean currents, of ocean chemistry and,
of course, of geology against the exciting background of the development of modern ideas on plate tectonics and
sea-floor spreading. All of this stuff is reported with universal enthusiasm, though with varying degrees of
accessibility depending on the reporter. But fascinating as it is for anyone interested in the history of oceanography,
little of it will be of direct interest to most readers of IJNA apart from a few rather brief references to the early days
of Nic Flemming’s classic work in using Mediterranean nautical archaeology to decipher recent sea-level changes.
However, pervading the scientific chapters and reinforced by the final section ‘Support for the scientific vision’
is a theme that will be familiar to all nautical archaeologists, the dependence of front-line scientists on the skills
and commitment of support staff. In the case of NIO this relationship manifested itself particularly in the design
and development of all manner of seagoing instruments to solve scientific problems, ranging from the small and
relatively simple to the large and extremely complex. Some of these developments, especially in acoustic telemetry
and submarine photography, have already had significant impacts on nautical archaeology. But in the long term
surely none will be more relevant than NIO’s seminal contribution to the development of sidescan sonar with its
huge potential for sea-floor imagery and the identification of human artefacts. In this context, the three chapters
by Arthur Stride (‘Sidescan sonar—a tool for sea-floor geology’), Tony Laughton (‘The rocks beneath the deep
ocean’) and Tom Tucker and Brian McCartney (‘Engineering and applied physics’) are particularly interesting.
They describe how, after initial reluctance on Deacon’s part for NIO to get involved with sidescan sonar, an
in-house designed, hull-mounted system was first developed 1958, and produced a wealth of continental shelf
sea-bed imagery over the next decade or so, even encouraging a German archaeologist to ask if NIO could detect
the remains of ancient hut circles on the sea-floor of Mounts Bay, Cornwall (p. 203). In the meantime, by 1965
Deacon was so impressed by the success of the shallow-water system that he supported the development of a scaled
up and longer-range version to be used in deep ocean depths. The eventual result was GLORIA, (Geological Long
Range Inclined Asdic) in which the acoustic array was (and still is) mounted in a vehicle towed some tens of metres
beneath and behind the ship to avoid a variety of surface effects. In purely commercial terms, GLORIA was by far
the most successful of NIO’s products resulting, inter alia, in a major contract to survey the whole of the US
Exclusive Economic Zone in the late 80s and early 90s. But furthermore, as Tony Laughton writes (p. 221), ‘It is
hard to overestimate the role that sidescan sonar has had subsequently, not only in marine geology but also in
marine engineering, wreck identification, site surveys for production platforms and commercial exploitation of the
sea-bed’. To this list he could easily have added ‘nautical archaeology’.
It is a good read.
TONY RICE
Alton, Hampshire, England

Preserving Archaeological Remains in Situ Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites

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