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ltwilliammowett · 6 months

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HMS Victory at sunset, by William Lionel Wyllie (1851-1931)

#naval art #hms victory #ship of the line #19th century #age of sail

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lonestarbattleship · 9 months

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USS Granite State (1864) (Ex-USS New Hampshire, Ex-USS Alabama) being towed away to be broken up in the Bay of Fundy. However, her towline broke during a storm, and later caught fire and sank near Manchester-by-the Sea, Massachusetts.

Photographed sometime between July 22 and 26, 1922.

NHHC: NH 73972

#USS Granite State #USS New Hampshire (1864)#USS New Hampshire #North Carolina Class #Ship of the line #sailing ship #warship #ship #boat #July #1922 #interwar period #united states navy #us navy #navy #usn #u.s. navy #my post #tugboat

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maritime-matchups · 10 months

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#maritime matchups #round 1 #midshipman longley #hornblower #ship of the line #william blakeney #aubrey maturin #aubreyad #master and commander #[hardcore child battle...]

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clove-pinks · 2 years

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Illustration to the 'Liber Nauticus, and Instructor in the Art of Marine Drawing' (number 2 plate 5); studies of the head, stern and quarter of a seventy-four gun ship. 1805

Etching and engraving after John Thomas Serres.

#age of sail #liber nauticus #age of fighting sail #ship of the line #1805 #1800s #naval art #maritime art #battleship #sailing ship #john thomas serres

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admiralnelsoniii · 5 months

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What you think? First, second rate, ship of the line? Just some AI creation I'm sure. Looks pretty cool though.

#history #ship of the line #warship #royal navy #spanish armada #sailing ship #age of sail #maritime art #military art #artlovers #artcollector #artwork #art

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i12bent · 2 years

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Emanuel Larsen (Sept. 15, 1823 - 1859) was a Danish marine painter. He traveled widely to various European coasts - Norway, England, The Mediterranean, and the Danish coasts, as well…

Larsen studied at the Royal Academy under Eckersberg and was praised for his drawing skills and able rendition of a romanticist atmosphere.

Above: Et linjeskib til ankers, 1847 - Oil on paper pasted onto cardboard (SMK)

#art #danish artist #marine painting #emanuel larsen #c.w. eckersberg #danish royal academy of fine arts #danish painter #oil on paper #ship of the line #at anchor

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some-sort-of-siren · 2 years

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Oh! I forgot to share this! Anyway, you ever get so tired of a build that you decide it’s done even though it’s in no way good enough to actually be done? Cause… yeah.

#minecraft #minecraft build #74 ship of the line #ship of the line #i CAN explain exactly what this ship is a replica of #and what kinds of sailors would’ve used it #is your build even done if you don’t have to turn up your render distance to 24 in order to take screenshots of it?

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dragonkingancalagon · 6 months

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War at Sea - Ship of the Line

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#18th century #naval #naval warfare #ship of the line #war at sea

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grayrazor · 9 months

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“Captain, you should have never taken Evangeline through that typhoon,” Jamestown barked as soon as I came down the stair. The engineer continued to growl through his white beard as he led me through the lower decks, “The winds ripped one of the screws (propellers) clean off. Number 3 engine is just dead weight now. But that’s nothing compared to this problem,” Jamestown gestured to one of the ballast tanks. There was a tear in the side big enough for a man to put his hand through, and silvery inertium was dripping up from it and pooling on the ceiling.

“How could this have happened?” I gasped, then, more practically, “how bad’s the loss?”

“I don’t know, Skipper,” Jamestown scratched his head. “I’ve heard stories about tornadoes sticking straw inches deep in tree trunks, but never any storm that could throw a piece of debris right through the steel side of a ship and the tanks inside. We’re lucky nobody was in the way of whatever that was or they’d be all over the walls now. Getting to the point, the ceiling should hold it for a while, but it won't be long before our ballast seeps between the deck plates and planks and falls into space--while we fall in the other direction. Between that and the lost prop-screw I give us maybe thirty miles before we sink.”

I pondered for a second. “I’ll have to check our position on the charts.” I sighed and undid the top button on my uniform, then loosened my scarf, “Don't get the crew’s hopes up. We didn't know these skies even before we met that storm. There’s no telling whether we’ll be able to get to a tall mountain or sky island to anchor and make repairs. At our altitude it’s unlikely anyone will survive a crash landing.”

Jamestown put his fists on his hips, “I'd die before leaving Evangeline to wreck anyways. I say we go for it!”

I tried to lighten the situation, “Where’s that loyalty to Evangeline when I need you and your lads to scrape the rust and parasites off her?”

He chuckled, though grimly, “ if you didn't run her engines so hard we’d have more boys and girls free for her beauty treatments instead of stifling boiler explosions or pulling hurricane-blown trees out of windows. Did you know Karlsdottir has been struck by lightning three times. Three times. Normal people only get it once if they’re lucky.”

“Didn’t Karlsdottir join because she thought working a sunfish trawler was boring?” I recalled.

“Aye. Hasn’t missed it once.”

I returned to my cabin and worked out from the position of the sun and various landmarks that we were about twenty-seven miles from a nameless, uninhabited sky-island. It was small, but not so small we would worry about Evangeline sliding off the edge if we ran out of ballast. Twenty-seven miles is scary close to thirty when thirty means falling to your doom.

By the time I had come up to the pilot-house to lay in a course the sun was setting. A wall of fog had started to roll in behind the storm we had weathered--right in the direction we needed to be going to reach the island. We would have to take it slow, lest we risk hitting inertium-infused rocks or befoul the screw-props on some skyfauna. The last thing we needed at this point was to hit a hydrogen whale or get an infestation of barnacle-gremlins. The slower we went though, the more time our ballast had to leak out.

After two hours I decided to let the pilot, Bjorn, do his job in peace. I walked back to my chair and watched the floodlights sweep back and forth through the haze, both in the air and on the bridge’s unwashed windows. There was nothing to be found on our old wireless, whether because of interference from the storm or because we were so far out in uncharted skies. Bjorn looked out of place among the brass instruments and steel bulkheads of Evangeline’s bridge. With his enormous arms, bushy mustache, and fur scarf he looked like he should be steerman on a viking longship rather than a tramp steamer. That, or like a walrus trying to pass itself off as human. Another hour passed with no noise, save for the wind rushing by and the churning of the engine nacelles. An unexpected sound was the one to break the silence: Leslie Chang on spotter duty, shouting through the speaking tube, “Wreck off the starboard braces! Half a mile off, four hundred feet above us!”

I jumped to my feet and grabbed my binoculars. As I ran to the nearest window I realized that one of the lenses had come loose inside, but any difficulty was made up for by the fact that all the floodlight operators had spotted the wreck and were training their beams on it. From what I could see it was the remains of an old wooden airship, maybe a century or more old. She was hanging in the air upside-down, her masts dangling below her hull like spider legs. “If she’s still adrift, her ballast barrels must be intact. This could be our saving grace!” I tapped Bjorn on the shoulder and he grunted in annoyance, “Bring us in close, steady as she goes. I’ll head below and prepare a boarding party.

Only four able-bodied skymen had agreed to come with me, the rest being old superstitious flyers who thought it was better to try and make it with what we had than to have anything to do with a wreck. Avery had been a circus acrobat in her former life; she was tall and thin but surprisingly strong. She would be handling the Mark IX grappling hook. Jamestown Jr. was the spitting image of his father, and always up for any dangerous task that he could use to impress. He and Karlsdottir would handle the barrels of ballast. And then there was Tex, who insisted he needed to come along for our protection. The man had at least five guns on him at all times, and I remain convinced that he came on all boarding and landing parties not for our defense, but because he had vivid and enthusiastic fantasies about shooting people.

We all stood along Evangeline’s forecastle gunwales as Bjorn brought us in close. Junior sputtered excitedly, “She’s not just any old hulk, this is an old imperial ship-of-the-line!” As we came past her stern the letters of her name were still visible amidst the airplants and algae: Antipathy, the most unimpressive name for a warship I ever saw. As Evangeline came around Antipathy’s far side we saw something that interrupted Avery’s grappling and stilled the hearts in our breasts: A long jagged crack ran along her side nearly from gundeck to keel. Something had all-but torn this cruiser in half. It was a marvel in itself, and a testament to her construction, that Antipathy was still one ship, and not a smattering of timbers, planks, and inertium barrels spiraling in the deeps.

Tex, as soon as he regained his composure, took advantage of an opportunity to freak out the more junior shipmates, “Ain’t no wind that done this. This’s the work of the Ziz.”

“The what?” Karlsdottir scratched her head

Tex was in full scary-story-narration mode, “They say on the week of creation the Almighty made three rulers for all the domains of the world. The Leviathan in the Sea, the Behemoth in the Earth, and the Ziz in the Sky. Not beast, not bird, not fish, big enough to block out the sun over an entire kingdom with its wings. A thing to make all the krakens and rocs pi--”

I had had enough, “You’d think something that big could do a bit more damage than this. I’ve seen angry hydrogen whales and wyverns do all kinds of horrible things to ships, even worse than this.” I hadn’t actually, but I wasn’t going to admit that, “Don’t overexcite yourself, Tex. You’re liable to shoot your fool self in the leg.”

Avery began to line up the shot in the linegun. “This would be so much easier if someone hadn't lost the skiff in the Jade Moors,” Junior grumbled.

#short story #I couldn’t think of what should happen next #I’m a lot better at coming up with setups than endings #airship #alternate history #fantasy #dieselpunk #steampunk #tramp freighter #ship of the line #doodle

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rust-in-polar1s · 9 months

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15 pages on random sailboat / ship information for anyone whos willing to read it :3