‘
Eight thousand ship’snails were hand-forged’
SHTANDART
operational modern concessions aboard, before heading
east for the Isle of Wight, the Needles Fairway setting
our course before turning for the run to Cowes. In full
training ship mode Shtandart might carry a crew of 30
or more, with some in hammocks, but she needs only
fi ve to seven to run well, with sail work all handled from
on deck. It’s only when fully stowing sails that crew must
tightrope out along the yardarm.
Surprise number one for those of us new to the boat
was that we’re sailing in seconds, the hoist sequence
running maintops’l fi rst, then main t’gallant, followed by
mains’l at bottom – and we’re already underway. There
is so much cordage and a lot of hauling, the crew
synchronised in movement. The novice looks up and is
immediately lost, like an actor fumbling lines. Foremast
follows in similar sequence, then mizzen tops’l atop
lateen-like spanker, fi nally sprits’l and staysails.
The scale is immense. Not the vessel’s length or
breadth, that’s not new. It’s the heft of timber, massive in
thickness, be it doors, deck or sculptural carving, and
there’s plenty of that, each volunteer is portrayed in
ornamentation aboard. No skimping on materials here.
“The original Shtandart,” says Vladimir, “had a
problem with stability.” No wonder. “But we put 30
tonnes of steel into the bottom of the keel, and another
30 of pig iron ballast into the bilge. She is good now and
can sail quite high to the wind, up to about 60°.”
That comes as a surprise, but she can seemingly fl y,
eight knots is common, and she has surfed big seas at
just under 15 knots, maintaining 12 for an hour. Given
Shtandart’s 220 tons displacement, and a barn-doorrudder alone weighing two tons and steered by the
same, original, crudely geared and rope-driven system,
the helm is remarkably responsive and none too heavy
in our light wind as we knock along at six knots. In
stiff conditions a bit more muscle is required.
Authenticity has been key to the project – yes there’s
that engine, and a chart plotter and radio concealed in
the roll-top bureau in the Captain’s quarters aft, safety
gear also as regulations instruct, and the accommodation
below is a tad more modern than that of old with the
comforts of cookers, fridges, freezers and half-private
bunk arrangements – but this boat was built virtually as
she would have been. That was in 1699, when England’s
King William III presented Czar Peter with the drawings
of an existing ship from which to develop Shtandart,
Russia’s fi rst Imperial Navy ship.
No plans survived. Just a model in St Petersburg’s
Heritage Museum. It took three years for Vladimir and a
borrowed university professor to research and recreate
the exact lines and detail. The intent had always been to
build by the same method, but the decision to use no
modern tooling or cranage was initially owing to having
no cash, just the chainsaw, endless hand tools and
manual lifting gear. With no mill, the trees were planked
where they fell, by the one saw. A grand total of 8,000
ship’s nails were hand-forged, chisel-edged on one side
and of the right malleability to follow the curve of grain
and clinch. There were 44 frames, from bow to stern.
Initially it was two weeks per frame, by the end two
frames a week. Vladimir drove taxis at night for funding.
A British sponsor, Dolphin Exhibitions, came forward
pledging £1,000 per month.
The keel was laid in November 1994. In October
1999 the last plank was clinched. “That was a very
good day,” says Vladimir with a grin, “then weClockwise from
top left: Training
crew at the
wheel; one of the
fi ve 2m-long
cannon; a trip
aloft to stow sails
Below: Captain
Vladimir Martus