Academia.eduAcademia.edu

Figure 27 – uploaded by Andrew Wilson

See full PDFdownloadDownload figure
Figure 2.27. Wreck of a Roman dredger of the first or second centuries AD, from the Place Jules Verne, Marseilles, with a slot in the bottom of the hull for the dredging machinery. (Centre Camille Jullian, CNRS. Pomey and Rieth 2005: 50.)

Figure 2 27. Wreck of a Roman dredger of the first or second centuries AD, from the Place Jules Verne, Marseilles, with a slot in the bottom of the hull for the dredging machinery. (Centre Camille Jullian, CNRS. Pomey and Rieth 2005: 50.)

Related Figures (26)

Figure 2.1. Mediterranean shipwrecks by century (n=1189), graphed using the mid-points of date ranges. (After Parker 1992a: fig. 3 therefore trade, and has featured in numerous discussions of the Roman economy, being made to bear a far greater interpretative superstructure than Parker himself had ever intended? Parker’s graph shows a_ progressive increase in the number of known wrecks from about 600 BC to 200 BC, followed by a rapid rise to peak in the first century BC, dropping very slightly in the first century AD, rather more so in the second century AD, and then sharply in the third century, with continued diminution in the fourth to fifth centuries. A slight recovery in the sixth century? is followed by further sharp drops and thereafter wreck numbers before 1500 do not regain even the levels attained in the sixth century AD. Overall, the Classical, Hellenistic, Roman and Late Antique periods stand out as having much larger numbers of wrecks than the Bronze Age or the Medieval period, and the last two centuries of the Roman Republic and the first two centuries of the empire have exceptionally high numbers of known wrecks.‘ Any survey of maritime trade over the longue durée must be heavily indebted to A. J. Parker's catalogue of 1,189 Mediterranean wrecks datable before AD 1500." His graph of the number of wrecks per century (Figure 2.1) was seized on by ancient historians from Hopkins onward as a means of illustrating fluctuations in the levels of Mediterranean maritime trade, taking the number of wrecks in any period as a more or less straightforward reflection of the intensity of maritime shipping and
Figure 2.1. Mediterranean shipwrecks by century (n=1189), graphed using the mid-points of date ranges. (After Parker 1992a: fig. 3 therefore trade, and has featured in numerous discussions of the Roman economy, being made to bear a far greater interpretative superstructure than Parker himself had ever intended? Parker’s graph shows a_ progressive increase in the number of known wrecks from about 600 BC to 200 BC, followed by a rapid rise to peak in the first century BC, dropping very slightly in the first century AD, rather more so in the second century AD, and then sharply in the third century, with continued diminution in the fourth to fifth centuries. A slight recovery in the sixth century? is followed by further sharp drops and thereafter wreck numbers before 1500 do not regain even the levels attained in the sixth century AD. Overall, the Classical, Hellenistic, Roman and Late Antique periods stand out as having much larger numbers of wrecks than the Bronze Age or the Medieval period, and the last two centuries of the Roman Republic and the first two centuries of the empire have exceptionally high numbers of known wrecks.‘ Any survey of maritime trade over the longue durée must be heavily indebted to A. J. Parker's catalogue of 1,189 Mediterranean wrecks datable before AD 1500." His graph of the number of wrecks per century (Figure 2.1) was seized on by ancient historians from Hopkins onward as a means of illustrating fluctuations in the levels of Mediterranean maritime trade, taking the number of wrecks in any period as a more or less straightforward reflection of the intensity of maritime shipping and
Figure 2.2. Mediterranean shipwrecks by century (n=1,189), but graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data from Parker 1992a.) Figure 2.2 uses the data from Parker's catalogue, but assumes that there is an equal probability that a ship sank in any particular year within the date range assigned to a wreck. This probability is then accumulated for each time period on the x-axis (in this case, a century). Thus a wreck dated 75 BC to AD 25 has a 75 per cent chance of having sunk in the first century BC, and a 25 per cent chance of having sunk in the first century AD; it therefore counts as % of a wreck in the first-century BC column and % in the first-century AD column. The effect of this on the 76 Mediterranean wrecks in the catalogue reported as Parker's catalogue was published in 1992 and, obviously, more wrecks have been found and published since then. With the assistance of Dr Julia Strauss, the Oxford Roman Economy Project updated the wreck database with new material from the maritime archaeology literature since 1990.’ This is still work in progress but has (so far) increased the number of known and datable Mediterranean wrecks before AD 1500 from 1189 to 1646 (Figure 2.3). The shape of the graph continues to change, so diminishing returns have not yet set in, and the accumulation of more data continues to be worthwhile. The new graph further accentuates certain features already visible in my regraphing of Parker’s data. There is now a steeper climb in the Late Republic to a more pronounced first-century AD peak and the fall
Figure 2.2. Mediterranean shipwrecks by century (n=1,189), but graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data from Parker 1992a.) Figure 2.2 uses the data from Parker's catalogue, but assumes that there is an equal probability that a ship sank in any particular year within the date range assigned to a wreck. This probability is then accumulated for each time period on the x-axis (in this case, a century). Thus a wreck dated 75 BC to AD 25 has a 75 per cent chance of having sunk in the first century BC, and a 25 per cent chance of having sunk in the first century AD; it therefore counts as % of a wreck in the first-century BC column and % in the first-century AD column. The effect of this on the 76 Mediterranean wrecks in the catalogue reported as Parker's catalogue was published in 1992 and, obviously, more wrecks have been found and published since then. With the assistance of Dr Julia Strauss, the Oxford Roman Economy Project updated the wreck database with new material from the maritime archaeology literature since 1990.’ This is still work in progress but has (so far) increased the number of known and datable Mediterranean wrecks before AD 1500 from 1189 to 1646 (Figure 2.3). The shape of the graph continues to change, so diminishing returns have not yet set in, and the accumulation of more data continues to be worthwhile. The new graph further accentuates certain features already visible in my regraphing of Parker’s data. There is now a steeper climb in the Late Republic to a more pronounced first-century AD peak and the fall
Figure 2.3. Mediterranean shipwrecks by century (n=1,646), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.) We can test the validity of this method of graphing of all wrecks by stripping out the noisy data—the wrecks with long date ranges—and comparing Figure 2.3 with the graph of on y those 1,062 wrecks which are datable to within a century (Figure 2.4). The basic shape does not change much, inspiring some confidence in the method of grap hing all wrecks. Can we probe the data further, by using smaller time periods? Figure 2.5 shows What relationship do these graphs bear to levels of maritime trade over time? Figures 2.2-2.6 show a massive drop in shipwreck numbers between the first and second centuries AD, just when there was major investment in harbour works at Portus, and just when African Red Slip exports from North Africa take off. The pan-Mediterranean
Figure 2.3. Mediterranean shipwrecks by century (n=1,646), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.) We can test the validity of this method of graphing of all wrecks by stripping out the noisy data—the wrecks with long date ranges—and comparing Figure 2.3 with the graph of on y those 1,062 wrecks which are datable to within a century (Figure 2.4). The basic shape does not change much, inspiring some confidence in the method of grap hing all wrecks. Can we probe the data further, by using smaller time periods? Figure 2.5 shows What relationship do these graphs bear to levels of maritime trade over time? Figures 2.2-2.6 show a massive drop in shipwreck numbers between the first and second centuries AD, just when there was major investment in harbour works at Portus, and just when African Red Slip exports from North Africa take off. The pan-Mediterranean
Figure 2.4. Mediterranean shipwrecks datable within 100-year ranges (n=1,062), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.)
Figure 2.4. Mediterranean shipwrecks datable within 100-year ranges (n=1,062), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.)
Figure 2.5. Mediterranean shipwrecks by half-century (n=1,646), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.) to shorter coastal voyages, entailing a difference in risk at different periods. Russell’s analysis of stone cargoes® suggests that patterns of wrecking are indeed correlated with the relative risks of different sailing routes that may in turn be determined by fashions for particular marbles at different periods—in the case of stone cargoes, wreck numbers peak in the second and third centuries AD when transport of eastern Mediterranean coloured marbles to Italy and the central Mediterranean becomes more common, as these involved the traversing of dangerous waters off southern Italy and Sicily in a way which the transport of Luna marble down the coast of Italy from Carrara to Rome and the Bay of Naples did not. Moreover, if practices of winter sailing became more common at different periods—as there is some evidence that they did under the Roman empire’—then this will have increased the risk of sailing and therefore the likelihood of wreck. The first of these assumptions might be questioned, if climatic change is felt to have increased the incidence of storms at certain periods; or if changes in shipbuilding technology over time affected (reduced?) the propensity to wreck; or if there were changes in sailing practice and the balance of long-distance open-water voyages
Figure 2.5. Mediterranean shipwrecks by half-century (n=1,646), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.) to shorter coastal voyages, entailing a difference in risk at different periods. Russell’s analysis of stone cargoes® suggests that patterns of wrecking are indeed correlated with the relative risks of different sailing routes that may in turn be determined by fashions for particular marbles at different periods—in the case of stone cargoes, wreck numbers peak in the second and third centuries AD when transport of eastern Mediterranean coloured marbles to Italy and the central Mediterranean becomes more common, as these involved the traversing of dangerous waters off southern Italy and Sicily in a way which the transport of Luna marble down the coast of Italy from Carrara to Rome and the Bay of Naples did not. Moreover, if practices of winter sailing became more common at different periods—as there is some evidence that they did under the Roman empire’—then this will have increased the risk of sailing and therefore the likelihood of wreck. The first of these assumptions might be questioned, if climatic change is felt to have increased the incidence of storms at certain periods; or if changes in shipbuilding technology over time affected (reduced?) the propensity to wreck; or if there were changes in sailing practice and the balance of long-distance open-water voyages
Figure 2.6. Mediterranean shipwrecks datable within 50-year ranges (n=596), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.)
Figure 2.6. Mediterranean shipwrecks datable within 50-year ranges (n=596), graphed according to an equal probability of sinking in any year during the date range for each wreck. (Data collected by Julia Strauss.)
Figure 2.8. Well-dated wrecks, datable within 100-year ranges, carrying stone cargoes by century, 200 BC-AD 600 (n=42). (Data supplied by Ben Russell.) Figure 2.7. Wrecks carrying stone cargoes by century, 200 BC- AD 600 (n=87). (Data supplied by Ben Russell.)
Figure 2.8. Well-dated wrecks, datable within 100-year ranges, carrying stone cargoes by century, 200 BC-AD 600 (n=42). (Data supplied by Ben Russell.) Figure 2.7. Wrecks carrying stone cargoes by century, 200 BC- AD 600 (n=87). (Data supplied by Ben Russell.)
The picture of Mediterranean trade suggested by finds on land certainly does not suggest a downturn of maritime trade in the early second century.'® From the Augustan period through to the mid-first century AD, Italian Terra Sigillata pottery achieved a wide distribution throughout the Mediterranean, and was even exported to India. From the early first century AD onwards it was increasingly replaced by Gaulish Samian ware, the distribution of which centred on the central and western Mediterranean. From around
The picture of Mediterranean trade suggested by finds on land certainly does not suggest a downturn of maritime trade in the early second century.'® From the Augustan period through to the mid-first century AD, Italian Terra Sigillata pottery achieved a wide distribution throughout the Mediterranean, and was even exported to India. From the early first century AD onwards it was increasingly replaced by Gaulish Samian ware, the distribution of which centred on the central and western Mediterranean. From around
Figure 2.9. The Madrague de Giens ship, c. 70-60 BC. (a) cross-sections of the hull; (b) detail of cross-section of the keel; (c) longitudinal profile of the ship, with reconstructed elements dashed. (Reprinted from Wooden Ship Building and the Interpretation of Shipwrecks by J. R. Steffy 1994: 63, fig. 3-49, by permission of Texas A&M University Press.) simp le evolutionary picture is complicated by the recent discovery of wrecks in Tantura lagoon near Tell Dor, of the early sixth (Tantura A) and early ninth centuries AD (Tantura B), which already show skeleton-first construc tion, edge with planking nailed to the internal frames, and no -joints.* The earlier of these wrecks pre-dates the seventh-century Yass! Ada wreck, which was still built using the shell-first technique. Meanwhile the Dor D wrec whic fittin purp whic , of the mid-seventh century, has hull planking h was edge-joined by relatively close-set but loose- g unpegged mortise and tenon joints, whose ose was probably for alignment of the planking h was nailed to frames by means of treenails. This suggests skeleton-first construction, but with continued use of mortise and tenon joints.“ The St. Gervais Il wrec , also seventh-century, may have been built in similar fashion.” Evidently, the transition from shell-first to skeleton-first construction was a lengthy process and of a gradual evolution in methods of hull construction is now becoming increasingly complicated and region- ally diverse.“ The shell-first method of construction, using edge-joined planks held together with mortise and tenon joints and reinforced by internal bracing timbers or frames is attested already in the Uluburun wreck of the fourteenth century BC and persisted into the Byzantine period. By the mid-first century BC some large ships, like the Madrague de Giens wreck, had double-skinned hulls, adding strength.” Over time, the mortise and tenon joints became smaller and more widely spaced (Figure 2.12), and more reliance was placed on the internal structures of frames, keelsons, ceilings and decking.” This process was originally seen as adumbrating the trans- ition to skeleton-first construction clearly attested in the eleventh-century Serce Liman! wreck, in which the frames were laid first and the hull planking then nailed to them, without the need for edge joints.“ However, this
Figure 2.9. The Madrague de Giens ship, c. 70-60 BC. (a) cross-sections of the hull; (b) detail of cross-section of the keel; (c) longitudinal profile of the ship, with reconstructed elements dashed. (Reprinted from Wooden Ship Building and the Interpretation of Shipwrecks by J. R. Steffy 1994: 63, fig. 3-49, by permission of Texas A&M University Press.) simp le evolutionary picture is complicated by the recent discovery of wrecks in Tantura lagoon near Tell Dor, of the early sixth (Tantura A) and early ninth centuries AD (Tantura B), which already show skeleton-first construc tion, edge with planking nailed to the internal frames, and no -joints.* The earlier of these wrecks pre-dates the seventh-century Yass! Ada wreck, which was still built using the shell-first technique. Meanwhile the Dor D wrec whic fittin purp whic , of the mid-seventh century, has hull planking h was edge-joined by relatively close-set but loose- g unpegged mortise and tenon joints, whose ose was probably for alignment of the planking h was nailed to frames by means of treenails. This suggests skeleton-first construction, but with continued use of mortise and tenon joints.“ The St. Gervais Il wrec , also seventh-century, may have been built in similar fashion.” Evidently, the transition from shell-first to skeleton-first construction was a lengthy process and of a gradual evolution in methods of hull construction is now becoming increasingly complicated and region- ally diverse.“ The shell-first method of construction, using edge-joined planks held together with mortise and tenon joints and reinforced by internal bracing timbers or frames is attested already in the Uluburun wreck of the fourteenth century BC and persisted into the Byzantine period. By the mid-first century BC some large ships, like the Madrague de Giens wreck, had double-skinned hulls, adding strength.” Over time, the mortise and tenon joints became smaller and more widely spaced (Figure 2.12), and more reliance was placed on the internal structures of frames, keelsons, ceilings and decking.” This process was originally seen as adumbrating the trans- ition to skeleton-first construction clearly attested in the eleventh-century Serce Liman! wreck, in which the frames were laid first and the hull planking then nailed to them, without the need for edge joints.“ However, this
Figure 2.11. Third-century AD mosaic from the frigidarium of the baths at Themetra (Tunisia), showing a merchant ship with inclined foremast (artemon), concave prow profile and sharp cutwater. (From Pomey 1997: 89.) Figure 2.10. Mosaic from the statio of the traders of Sullecthum (Salakta, Tunisia) in the Piazzale delle Corporazioni at Ostia, showing a three-masted and a two-masted ship. (From Pomey 1997: 85.)
Figure 2.11. Third-century AD mosaic from the frigidarium of the baths at Themetra (Tunisia), showing a merchant ship with inclined foremast (artemon), concave prow profile and sharp cutwater. (From Pomey 1997: 89.) Figure 2.10. Mosaic from the statio of the traders of Sullecthum (Salakta, Tunisia) in the Piazzale delle Corporazioni at Ostia, showing a three-masted and a two-masted ship. (From Pomey 1997: 85.)
Figure 2.12. Development of edge-joining techniques for hull planking, using mortise and tenon joints (a) Kyrenia ship, fourth century BC; (b) Yass! Ada ship, fourth century AD; (c) Yass! Ada ship, seventh century AD; (d) Serge Liman ship, eleventh century AD. (Reprinted from Wooden Ship Building and the Interpretation of Shipwrecks by J. R. Steffy 1994: 84, fig. 4-8, by permission of Texas A&M University Press.)
Figure 2.12. Development of edge-joining techniques for hull planking, using mortise and tenon joints (a) Kyrenia ship, fourth century BC; (b) Yass! Ada ship, fourth century AD; (c) Yass! Ada ship, seventh century AD; (d) Serge Liman ship, eleventh century AD. (Reprinted from Wooden Ship Building and the Interpretation of Shipwrecks by J. R. Steffy 1994: 84, fig. 4-8, by permission of Texas A&M University Press.)
Figure 2.13. Elements of Roman bilge pumps: (a) upper sprocket from the Nemi ships; (b) lower guide rollers from the Nemi ships; (c) wooden disks from the Madrague de Giens wreck. (© Carre, M. B. and Jézégou, M. P. (1984). ‘Pompes a chapelet sur des navires de l'antiquité et du début du moyen age’, Archaeonautica 4: 198, fig. 14. CNRS Editions.) In Roman wrecks the wooden disks and lead tubing from the discharge pipe of a bilge pump are sometimes found; the Nemi ships, the Los Ullastres wreck, and the wreck in Ponza harbour also preserved parts of the upper wheel or the lower guide rollers.°” The earliest evidence comes from the La Cavaliere wreck of c. 100 BC. The bilge pump on the Madrague de Giens wreck had been recovered in antiquity by salvage divers. Elements of chain pumps are found in wrecks between 100 BC and the seventh century AD; after this the trail goes cold again until the fifteenth century AD. Mariano Taccola in 1451 regarded the chain pump as a Tartar device, while Portuguese and Spanish navigators of the sixteenth century found Chinese naval chain pumps alien and superior to the force pumps used in Mediterranean ships. By 100 BC, though, a new type of pump had been designed, not described by any ancient author but reconstructable from evidence in wrecks and similar in fact to known pumps from eighteenth-century ships.* The chain pump consisted of a series of wooden disks threaded ona loop of rope or chain, passing over a kind of cog-wheel at the top and guided by a roller at the bottom of the loop, which was in the bilge (Figures 2.13-14). On their upward journey the disks entered a tube which they fitted tightly. The lower end of the tube was below the evel of water in the bilge and the disks thus drew water up into the tube, discharging it into a trough at the top, from where it was emptied through the gunwales via a pipe. How the loop was rotated is unclear; various scholars have suggested a windlass, crank or treadwheel attached to the upper wheel. Despite earlier doubts, it has in recent years been shown that the principle of the crank was known in the Roman world, and a wooden disk with an eccentric square socket from one of the Nemi ships has been interpreted as the disk from a crank handle for a chain pump. The one textual reference we have to the operation of a bilge pump is a passage of Paulinus of Nola, in which an old man was below decks pumping bilge-water.® It is difficult to believe, however, that this was a chain
Figure 2.13. Elements of Roman bilge pumps: (a) upper sprocket from the Nemi ships; (b) lower guide rollers from the Nemi ships; (c) wooden disks from the Madrague de Giens wreck. (© Carre, M. B. and Jézégou, M. P. (1984). ‘Pompes a chapelet sur des navires de l'antiquité et du début du moyen age’, Archaeonautica 4: 198, fig. 14. CNRS Editions.) In Roman wrecks the wooden disks and lead tubing from the discharge pipe of a bilge pump are sometimes found; the Nemi ships, the Los Ullastres wreck, and the wreck in Ponza harbour also preserved parts of the upper wheel or the lower guide rollers.°” The earliest evidence comes from the La Cavaliere wreck of c. 100 BC. The bilge pump on the Madrague de Giens wreck had been recovered in antiquity by salvage divers. Elements of chain pumps are found in wrecks between 100 BC and the seventh century AD; after this the trail goes cold again until the fifteenth century AD. Mariano Taccola in 1451 regarded the chain pump as a Tartar device, while Portuguese and Spanish navigators of the sixteenth century found Chinese naval chain pumps alien and superior to the force pumps used in Mediterranean ships. By 100 BC, though, a new type of pump had been designed, not described by any ancient author but reconstructable from evidence in wrecks and similar in fact to known pumps from eighteenth-century ships.* The chain pump consisted of a series of wooden disks threaded ona loop of rope or chain, passing over a kind of cog-wheel at the top and guided by a roller at the bottom of the loop, which was in the bilge (Figures 2.13-14). On their upward journey the disks entered a tube which they fitted tightly. The lower end of the tube was below the evel of water in the bilge and the disks thus drew water up into the tube, discharging it into a trough at the top, from where it was emptied through the gunwales via a pipe. How the loop was rotated is unclear; various scholars have suggested a windlass, crank or treadwheel attached to the upper wheel. Despite earlier doubts, it has in recent years been shown that the principle of the crank was known in the Roman world, and a wooden disk with an eccentric square socket from one of the Nemi ships has been interpreted as the disk from a crank handle for a chain pump. The one textual reference we have to the operation of a bilge pump is a passage of Paulinus of Nola, in which an old man was below decks pumping bilge-water.® It is difficult to believe, however, that this was a chain
Figure 2.14. Reconstruction of the chain pump from the Los Ullastres wreck (© 1984 F. Foerster Laures, ‘New views on bilge pumps from Roman wrecks’, International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 13: 88, fig. 4a. John Wiley & Sons Ltd.)
Figure 2.14. Reconstruction of the chain pump from the Los Ullastres wreck (© 1984 F. Foerster Laures, ‘New views on bilge pumps from Roman wrecks’, International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 13: 88, fig. 4a. John Wiley & Sons Ltd.)
Figure 2.16. Square sail brailed to create a triangular surface. (From Medas 2004: 197, fig. 85.) Figure 2.15. Tombstone of Alexander of Miletus, from the Piraeus, showing a sprit sail with a short luff. (Athens, National Museum. From Pomey 1997: 41.)
Figure 2.16. Square sail brailed to create a triangular surface. (From Medas 2004: 197, fig. 85.) Figure 2.15. Tombstone of Alexander of Miletus, from the Piraeus, showing a sprit sail with a short luff. (Athens, National Museum. From Pomey 1997: 41.)
Harbour design Figure 2.17. Development of hull shapes in the Middle Ages. Yassi Ada: 7th century AD. Bozburun: AD 874. Serce Liman: c. AD 1025. Culip Vl: c. 1300. Contarina |: c. AD 1450. (© 2008 F. Castro, N. Fonseca, T. Vacas and F. Ciciliot, ‘A quantitative look at Mediterranean lateen- and square-rigged ships (Part 1), International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 37 (2): 358, fig. 6a. John Wiley & Sons Ltd.)
Harbour design Figure 2.17. Development of hull shapes in the Middle Ages. Yassi Ada: 7th century AD. Bozburun: AD 874. Serce Liman: c. AD 1025. Culip Vl: c. 1300. Contarina |: c. AD 1450. (© 2008 F. Castro, N. Fonseca, T. Vacas and F. Ciciliot, ‘A quantitative look at Mediterranean lateen- and square-rigged ships (Part 1), International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 37 (2): 358, fig. 6a. John Wiley & Sons Ltd.)
Figure 2.18. Roman lead sounding weights. (From Oleson 2000: fig. 4.)
Figure 2.18. Roman lead sounding weights. (From Oleson 2000: fig. 4.)
Figure 2.21. Reconstruction drawing of the harbour of Sebastos, Caesarea Maritima. (© 1992 A. Raban, ‘Sebastos: the royal harbour at Caesarea Maritima—a short-lived giant’, International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 21 (2): 122, fig. 18. John Wiley & Sons Ltd.) Figure 2.20. Plan of the eastern harbour at Alexandria. (© IEASM.)
Figure 2.21. Reconstruction drawing of the harbour of Sebastos, Caesarea Maritima. (© 1992 A. Raban, ‘Sebastos: the royal harbour at Caesarea Maritima—a short-lived giant’, International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 21 (2): 122, fig. 18. John Wiley & Sons Ltd.) Figure 2.20. Plan of the eastern harbour at Alexandria. (© IEASM.)
Figure 2.22. View of the harbour quayside at Lepcis Magna, with steps and holes for mooring posts (foreground), and warehouses on the quayside behind the colonnade. (Photo: A. |. Wilson.)
Figure 2.22. View of the harbour quayside at Lepcis Magna, with steps and holes for mooring posts (foreground), and warehouses on the quayside behind the colonnade. (Photo: A. |. Wilson.)
Figure 2.23. Mosaic from a tomb at Hadrumetum (Sousse, Tunisia), showing unloading of firewood through the shallows and weighing on the beach. (From Nieto 1997: 159.) The introduction of concrete changed this: long moles could be constructed on this shelving coastline running for hundreds of metres from the shore out to where a depth of two or three metres, sufficient for medium to large cargo ships, could be attained. At Sullecthum the mole is c. 350 m long (Figure 2.24 published here for the first time), while that at Leptiminus the mole is c. 560 m long, with an angled end forming a rectangle whose sides provided some 300 m of mooring space (Figure 2.25). At Thapsus, parts of the mole were visible as recently as 1987, until a fishing port was built on top; originally the mole extended for 1,000 m from the shore, in places 100 m wide, and is the longest known ancient artificial mole (Figure 2.26).° Long artificial moles were constructed at least five sites along the Tunisian coast (Table 2.1), vastly improving the access to large shipping for sites The impact of the new Roman concrete technology is seen very clearly along the Tunisian coast, where a gently shelving bottom means that shallows extend hundreds of metres from the shore and prevent large ships approaching. Cothons, presumably of Punic origin, are known at Ruspina (Monastir) and Mahdia (Figure 2.19); but many of the other Punic towns along this coast were largely unsheltered and ships must have been drawn up on the beach or unloaded through the shallows, either
Figure 2.23. Mosaic from a tomb at Hadrumetum (Sousse, Tunisia), showing unloading of firewood through the shallows and weighing on the beach. (From Nieto 1997: 159.) The introduction of concrete changed this: long moles could be constructed on this shelving coastline running for hundreds of metres from the shore out to where a depth of two or three metres, sufficient for medium to large cargo ships, could be attained. At Sullecthum the mole is c. 350 m long (Figure 2.24 published here for the first time), while that at Leptiminus the mole is c. 560 m long, with an angled end forming a rectangle whose sides provided some 300 m of mooring space (Figure 2.25). At Thapsus, parts of the mole were visible as recently as 1987, until a fishing port was built on top; originally the mole extended for 1,000 m from the shore, in places 100 m wide, and is the longest known ancient artificial mole (Figure 2.26).° Long artificial moles were constructed at least five sites along the Tunisian coast (Table 2.1), vastly improving the access to large shipping for sites The impact of the new Roman concrete technology is seen very clearly along the Tunisian coast, where a gently shelving bottom means that shallows extend hundreds of metres from the shore and prevent large ships approaching. Cothons, presumably of Punic origin, are known at Ruspina (Monastir) and Mahdia (Figure 2.19); but many of the other Punic towns along this coast were largely unsheltered and ships must have been drawn up on the beach or unloaded through the shallows, either
Figure 2.25. Plans of the Roman port moles at Acholla and Leptiminus, Tunisia. (© Yorke et a/., Cambridge Expedition to Sabrathe 1966 plans 4 and 5.) Figure 2.24. Plan of the Roman mole at Sullecthum (Salakta, Tunisia). (© Yorke et al, Cambridge Expedition to Sabratha 1966, previously unpublished.) Figure 2.26. Plan of the Roman port mole at Thapsus, Tunisia. (© Yorke et al., Cambridge Expedition to Sabratha 1966 plan 3.)
Figure 2.25. Plans of the Roman port moles at Acholla and Leptiminus, Tunisia. (© Yorke et a/., Cambridge Expedition to Sabrathe 1966 plans 4 and 5.) Figure 2.24. Plan of the Roman mole at Sullecthum (Salakta, Tunisia). (© Yorke et al, Cambridge Expedition to Sabratha 1966, previously unpublished.) Figure 2.26. Plan of the Roman port mole at Thapsus, Tunisia. (© Yorke et al., Cambridge Expedition to Sabratha 1966 plan 3.)
Related topics:
HistoryAncient HistoryHistory of Science and TechnologyEconomic HistoryArchaeologyClassical ArchaeologyMaritime ArchaeologyClassicsRoman HistoryLate Antique and Byzantine History
580 California St., Suite 400
San Francisco, CA, 94104
© 2025 Academia. All rights reserved