by Dean Beeman
Trial-fit the deck piece- there should be at least a 1/32nd lip along the edge where it meets the third strake. Glue and clamp it in place. On the aft piece, cut it with a ¼ inch flat nose, and cut out a ¾ x ¼ inch rabbet that slides over the rear pulpit, again with a small side overlap. Sand a slight bevel into the edge that fits against the pulpit. Then glue and clamp the stern deck.
There is no apparent reason that explains why the bow and stern sections are discrete. In the hieroglyphic scenes of boatbuilding, the ends of the boats all appear squared or pointed, and many of the models are built the same way. In one relief, Tut can be seen standing on a squared papyrus float, but other scenes that include other kings include the pulpits, while nobles must have been content with the plain bow and stern. This begs the question of whether most of the wooden boats actually had dual purposes- on Monday a noble’s boat and on Tuesday, the king’s. It would not have been difficult to switch the sections, and when you’re trying to conserve precious cedar, this approach would have been very economical. I’m certain that this is another source of lively debate.
I’ve started to bland the capitals into the pulpits with the ceiling is in place. I’ll be using round wands for much of the sanding on both the capitals and the decks, so with the decks are in place, the boat’s status and the wands I’m using are shown in this photo:
At this point the boat has begun to resemble Tut’s boat with a clear nod to the actual at Giza. The pencil wand is carrying both 100 and 150-grit and the larger wand only 150.
Like its cousin the whaleboat at about this point, the once-delicate and fragile hull is very strong. I didn’t toss it quite as far as the whaleboat but I did toss it, so if you drop on the floor at this stage it will probably survive. (Throwing it on the floor may cause a bit more damage.)
If you’ve built the frigate you have a leftover piece of 1/64th plywood. If not, either buy a small sheet or improvise as best you can with what you have on hand.
I’ve cut a 2 in. slab from the plywood sheet, cutting across the grain. ( You would not expect a grain in something this thin, but it’s there. ) I then traced the pulpit/strake/deck outline onto the plywood. Since there is a break in the sweep where the strake meets the pulpit, I overlaid a French curve, retraced the piece and then cut it so that it appears to be one long sweep. I re-squared the end of the plywood strip, traced the cut section onto the new end and cut a twin. These will become the forward sides- a little light sanding may be needed to create a more or less perfect pair. The aft pair will be done exactly the same way.
Holding one piece against the hull, imagine a 90-degree angle to the waterline and sand the after (rear) edge down to achieve that angle. Sand both pieces until they fit more or less perfectly into the space between the keel plank overlap and the deck overlap. They should line up identically with the aft edge of the foredeck Glue these in place, and repeat on the afterdeck/hull sides. When the hull is sanded there will be a tiny overlap where these sections meet the strakes- that is intentional, but can be eliminated.
Find a comfortable place to relax, because we’re now going to begin the sanding process, and it’s going to take a few hours of start-stop-inspect-continue-repeat to blend everything together. If this step turns out uncomfortably badly, then your boat could probably best serve as a fire-starter, and it’s time to go back to page 1. (If it only turns out semi-badly, then keep going with the thought of donating a practice version to a worthy child as a bath toy.)
In the sanding process I’m only using 150-grit paper- mostly cut strips to achieve rounded edges on the chines (bottom and sides) and flat wands where straight edges meet (decks). The width of the strips will vary based on the location (large or small area) and the curve or angle I’m trying to achieve. It should be apparent that there are no metrics or rules here- try something and see how it goes. If it goes well, keep going- if it’s off-course do something else. That’s my plan, and if I screw up I have a child in mind who takes regular baths. Or I could just take a break and build a birdhouse.
If you find that you have tiny areas that are exposed by sanding, or that won’t sand into a more or less perfect profile, make a sawdust/glue paste, fill them in and keep going. We have a long way to go and there’s no timetable. Furthermore, if you are working under any source of artificial light and you think you’re done sanding, take your model out into a very bright morning sun and inspect it carefully. Under these conditions you will discover how far away from being done you really are.
Having gone through the first sanding phase, give the fore and aft assemblies a coat of clear nail polish. Basswood is a wonderful wood, but sanding will lift the grain and leave small fiber strands all over the place. This will become apparent after the first coat dries- the tiny hairs will become very obvious.
Once the polish is dry, polish the polish. Using very fine steel wool or a clean plastic scouring pad, go over the polished areas to remove the burrs (not the polish). Apply a second coat. These priming and sealing coats will allow the final finish to show its stuff. You’ll also find even tinier areas that will need some minor touchups with filler, sanding, etc.. Touch these spots and polish the polish again.
I can’t be sure what the ancients might have chosen as a color scheme. Khufu’s boat was not adorned at all, while Tut’s boat appears to be copper or bronze clad at the bow and stern, and trimmed with white, red and black. The decks and wales are clearly white, and his chair or throne is clearly gold.
You can hold off painting the bow and stern sections, but since I have a bottle of copper paint handy I’m going to apply a first coat of metallic copper to both sections. I may change the color later, so consider this coat another step that will allow a closer inspection of the final finish- at this point a light coat of any glossy finish will work.
If you endured lashing the ceiling and ribs this is probably a good time to start thinking about how you want to display your work. I believe the construction details are important, but I haven’t come to any conclusions on how I want to share them. But we’re about to button up the boat, so a little thought is in order.
Khufu’s boat was built with convenient deck hatches- on this model these would allow inspection of the inner workings of our boat. Tut’s boats were sculpted from solid materials, so no insights there. A very useful and impressive display format is the cross-section, as in the frigate. Another is the longitudinal section, and many fine models employ variations of this to encourage an understanding of both the original and the model builder. I’m in no great hurry to either cut the model in half or close it up completely. A dilemma.
Ignoring this quandary I’m going to proceed with the boat’s deck.
I’m starting with the throne.
The Throne
Outside its basic dimensions, Tut’s throne was adorned with patterns and relief sculpture of a classic standing cat which no doubt represents the goddess Bast. This not the place to get into the importance or significance of cats in either Egypt or my home, but the cat does appear on the sides of the throne, probably as a protector. ( I can confirm that in over 10,000 years of domestication cats haven’t changed one bit. Mine hasn’t encountered any cobras lately, so I may be wrong. But I don‘t think so.)
While I’m at it I’ve included a drawing of the paddles that will be built as we go. For those who recall the incendiary discussion of the whaleboat’s paddles, the paddles used by the Egyptians are identical to those of the Aleut’s- half a world and many centuries away. Flatten the handle and these can be found in most outdoor outfitter’s stores today.
In some of the literature that traces the history of the oar, the classic oar/oarlock/rowing format suggests one and only one way to row a boat. Any fisherman will tell you that sculling (moving an oar back and forth from the stern) is a very powerful and much quieter way to go about approaching fish (or whales if you go back to the beginning of this series).
I could get the debate ball rolling here by calling these things Maybellines, but I
’m going with paddles which, headed downstream acted as rudders, and upstream pushed the boat along. They also functioned as depth-finders, crocodile repellants and air conditioners for the pharoah. You can make them as stylishly whimsical as it gets, since the ancients did the same thing.
Here are the basics:
I copied the throne elevation onto a piece of card stock, cut it out and will use it as a pattern.
The most difficult part of the throne is the curved (scrolled) seat. There are probably dozens of ways to create the compound curves, but having tried a few of these with questionable success, I’m going to describe what seems to work the best.
(This is not exactly the same, simpler seat seen on Tut’s boat. The scroll cushion does show up on numerous other pictures of fine chairs and thrones, and what I believe to be a woven cushion would probably have been created by the artist if tasked. I’m going out on a limb again because I doubt my ability to carve a seated cat into the sides of the throne. If you can carve the cat and the scalloped design, go for the plain seat. If you go for the bent cushion I can speculate that very few people will know how it was done.)
Trace the seat outline onto a ¼ inch piece of scrap. ( Having wasted my last few pieces of plywood scrap on earlier failures I’m using a 5-gallon paint stirrer.)
I cut out a larger blank that could be clamped and used a hand jig saw or to cut out three layers at once.
After trimming off the clamp stock the pieces were glued. This solid piece might pass for a throne, but it just won’t look right (remember phi).
After some trimming with a razor saw and sanding the block should look something like this (along with what‘s left of the paddle):
Steaming and bending these angles takes a little time. In my case I crosscut a ¾ in strip of 1/16th basswood. Then, using the solid blank, drilled holes for the bending pegs and the spool into the bending table. The critical bend here is the very top of the throne, so after destroying a few strips of wood I rounded it slightly, and at that bend, made six knife-saw kerfs on the back edge to absorb the bend. (Each of these cuts was a little less than ½ way through the strip, and these were spaced at about 1/32nd.) Bending with the grain will work- trying to bend across the grain will create a uniquely-twisted piece of scrap.
In the bending form the scroll cushion should look something like this:
As you can see, the pegs had to be reinforced with a little help from shims and a clamp. The wet/hot seat will stay in the form overnight (more if it takes longer to completely dry). It will be fragile when it comes out of the form.
The first step is to give the throne seat a slight bit of strength by applying clear nail polish to the top and lower bend (stressed) areas. Then mark a cutting line about ¼ inch from the top and bottom of the cushion (see the diagram).
The plan is to make the throne the focal point of the model, and at the same time use the throne as a window into the inner work (ceiling). (If you decided not to construct the lashed ceiling, then the throne will serve as simply a throne.)
The piece parts of the throne are laid out here:
I have rough-cut and then sanded 2 scrap pieces of 1/8th pine from a stirring paddle, ( any 1/8th piece will do), using the solid form as a sanding fence (guide). These should fit snugly into the cushion, and I‘ll call these the arms.
The legs will be cut from 4 oriental toothpicks, knurled end down, and I’m going to fit these into the pine to form a seat and either into 1/8th square basswood or brass rod that will form the lower frame (stretchers). Variations of this chair were found in many ancient tombs, ( Amehotep is the example I have chosen), and this motif for the center of the boat also eliminates the need to duplicate ancient work on Tut’s boat that, quite frankly, can’t be duplicated.
Measure about ¼ inch from the seat on one arm, clamp it to the other and use a razor saw to cut off the bottoms on that mark. Center-mark drill holes about 2mm from each end on the arm bottoms and drill pilot holes and the 1/16th holes (about 2mm deep) into the arm bottoms.
Mark 5/8th of an inch from the knurled ends of the toothpicks, and then cut and sand each so that the 5/8th sections form the chair legs that fit into the arms. Glue these in place. Here we go:
I have drilled holes through the chair legs for pieces of scrap brass wire. Whether you choose to install these or other stringers is optional. I then center-drilled the seat stringers to accept scraps of copper wire to hold then in place. The piece parts:
And when these are in place, the seat can be added. I have used contact cement to hold the seat, and wood glue to join the stringers. The throne begins to look like this:
After some light sanding I have given the entire throne a primer coat of clear nail polish.
The bow and stern sections of the boat were similarly primed. After cutting and fitting a (card stock) template, I traced and rough-cut the main deck.
At this point, here we are:
I have obviously added 3 sets of ribs and mortised a 1/8 x 1/16th center beam into the ribs. You can add as many ribs as you think appropriate, but the beam is a signature part of Khufu’s boat. It isn’t entirely obvious in the photo, but I also cut a scrap of clear plastic (from a greeting card box) into a 1x 1.5 inch rectangle. The throne in the photo is standing on that piece, and I plan to cut a viewing hole into the deck to hold the base of the throne and provide a window into the ancient technology below.
As you will find if and when you begin looking for a suitable paint, not all golds are the same gold. I chose a shade that probably has a fairly high copper content- this seemed to match the gold on Tut’s boat. The label claims that it is a gold leaf, but there are many choices here of not only paint, but various metallic leaf products. So go with whatever suits your notion of ancient gold.
Finishing The Model
Having given the hull and main deck a coat of white (primer), cut out the window and clear-glued a 1/64x1/8th frame around the inner rim of the window, the assembly (before gluing) looks like this:
With this picture window under the throne I can’t imagine being accused of stealing any ancient secrets. And this format is an invitation to an inquisitive child (or adult) who wants to understand an incredibly practical and precise boat building technology. There may be other ways to make the point.
It’s now time to button things up and add a few key details to the boat’s exterior.
First, I’m going to run a heavy bead of white glue along the tops of the strakes and ceiling. The hope is that, as I tape down the deck, the glue will be forced out of the seams. With a little sanding this should result in an invisible deck/hull joint.
The steering posts and paddles are pretty straightforward. On Khufu’s boat the steering paddles were leaf-shaped (more pointed) and laminated. On Tut’s model the shape more closely followed what a typical Nile paddler might have used on his papyrus boat, and were carved from a single piece of wood.
The steering/sculling platform on Khufu’s boat was a simple spindle- the paddles rested on top of the thwart-wise shaft and were most-likely lashed in place. The platform on Tut’s boat was a slightly advanced affair, with locks bored through a circular overhang, and pedestals were installed to provide a convenient holding place for the handles. These can be seem in the pictures of the actual. Taken to the extreme, crutches were also provided as rests for the handles- possibly for neatness or simply as a guarantee that the boat would be ready to sail at a moment’s notice. For all I know these guesses have been debated, with no clear conclusion.
I cut the paddles from 1/16th basswood sheet (see the drawing), and glued 1/16 x 1/16 strips to either side of the shafts. After the glue dries, taper the strips into the face of the paddle and spin the shafts inside a sheet of 150-grit sandpaper to round them. Since I ran out of any reasonably-dark wood stain I gave the paddles a coat of copper paint- it is red enough to imply cedar and dark enough to be any other king wood.
I tried various iterations of sculling platform. The one that seemed closest to the Tut ph
oto was made from scrap 1/32 plywood. The dimensions turned out to be ¾ x 2 inches. I traced the deck onto both sides of the blank and glued a 1/6th piece of scrap to the ends so that the platform would snug to the hull. After drawing lines 1/8th inch from the hull line, I centered ½ inch circles on that line and used the knife to cut the oarlocks. A 5/32nd hole drilled through the centers created the space for the paddle shafts.
The two 1/8th inch posts ( whose purpose escapes me and the builders of Khufu’s boat) were then pinned with planking nails and glued square to the centerline between the lines.
Both ancient boats were built with splash rails that extended almost the entire length of the deck. Trying to add these before the deck is glued in place is an invitation to broken glue joints, so I’m adding these after the deck glue has set and the sweep has settled into its final form.