Abstract
Shipwrecks have always occupied a place of primary interest in the field of maritime archaeology. This article examines the spatial organization of ships in an effort to reconstruct the social dynamics of shipboard society. Shipwrecks are often the result of site formation processes that ‘spill’ the artefacts that are often used to describe shipboard life. In order to engage a holistic interpretation of shipwreck sites we must explore the structure of the ships themselves. This article contributes methodologies for a quantitative analysis of shipwreck sites to the growing toolkit of shipwreck investigation.
Shipwrecks have always occupied a place of primary interest in the field of maritime archaeology. It was, arguably, the study of wrecks and their cargoes that first gave birth to maritime archaeology in the 1960s, and since then they have experienced no less prominence in the field. Many scholars have examined shipboard socio-spatial organization, in order to define the characteristics of a shipboard society. In particular, investigations of ships at Yassi Ada (Bass and van Doornick, 1971), Serce Limani (Bass et al., 2004), the Cattewater (Redknap, 1984), Red Bay (Grenier et al., 2007), and of the Mary Rose (Marsden, 2009) and the Dartmouth (Martin, 1978), to name but a few, have all successfully employed a variety of methodologies for the purpose of determining characteristics of shipboard society. This article presents a computer-based approach to quantifying the spatial organization of British Naval ships of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and investigates the usefulness of this approach in the examination of shipboard culture.
An approach to social space
The examination of spatial relationships between components of a site has been an integral aspect of archaeological investigation since the late nineteenth century. Theories of spatial analysis in archaeology are necessarily borrowed from spatial theories developed in disciplines such as economics, geography and architecture, but must contend with the diverse patterns of human behaviour and the often incomplete nature of the archaeological record. Spatial analysis of archaeological sites, both in Europe and North America, has a history grounded in geography and demography (e.g. Frobenius, 1898; Gradmann, 1898; Guest, 1883; Ratzel, 1896; Williams-Freeman, 1881). Early approaches identified patterns in settlement organization and site distribution (e.g. Ford et al., 1951; Parsons, 1972; Steward, 1937, 1938; Willey, 1953), while later investigations pursued a more particular approach in the examination of houses and the built environment (Hunter-Anderson, 1977, 1986; Robbins, 1966; Whiting and Ayres, 1968). The post-processual approaches of the late 1970s brought about an increased interest in social approaches to the study of the built environment. Studies conducted by Hodder (1984), Miller and Tilley (1984), Leone (1986), and Shanks and Tilley (1987a, 1987b), began to analyse characteristics of power relations and social structures in an effort to explore less tangible aspects of culture, through spatial analysis. With particular attention to the study of the built environment, many scholars drew from the works of cultural geographers such as Amos Rapoport (1968, 1982, 1990), Hillier and Hanson (1984), and Lawrence and Low (1990), for their analyses of social, cultural and ideological aspects of past buildings and landscapes. In particular, Susan Kent (1990) investigated the relationship between spatial organization within the built environment and socio-political complexity, suggesting that social complexity has a determining impact on the organization of space. This dialectic relationship between built space and social organization is the primary focus of this article. By quantifying spatial organization aboard ships it is possible to compare the degree of spatial complexity between vessels of different class and size. Differing levels of spatial complexity may relate to social characteristics aboard a ship.
Quantifying social space
Archaeologists have engaged a variety of strategies to study quantitatively the built environment, invariably employing similar techniques. A number of house studies have made use of access diagrams (Bonanno et al., 1990; Fairclough, 1992; Foster, 1989; Letesson and Driessen, 2008; Van Dyke, 1999), describing each room as an access node in order to measure connections and access throughout the structure. Others have taken this analytical approach a step further to measure depth of spaces within a structure and calculate the integration, or relationship, of spaces to one another (Bustard, 1999; Parmington, 2011; Thaler, 2005). These latter approaches make use of terminology and approaches reminiscent of space syntax (Hillier and Hanson, 1984) techniques in architecture and urban planning.
Space syntax comprises a useful operationalization of many socio-spatial theories by mathematically modelling spatial structures in order to create measurable values to discuss social phenomena. Applications of this methodology in archaeology have, by necessity, adapted modern space syntax approaches to the special contexts of the archaeological record. Archaeological studies by Dawson (2002, 2003) and Clark (2007) have successfully employed space syntax techniques and theories to elucidate social information from archaeological structures.
To date, an application of space syntax techniques to ships has not been attempted; however, the examination of houses and other structures is very prevalent in space syntax studies and provides a useful analog for analysing ships. In particular, houses can carry cultural information in their spatial configuration and cultural considerations behind the allocation of household artefacts within the interior of a house (Hanson, 1998). Additionally, this information can be accessed through space syntax mechanisms such as justified permeability graphs and computer-aided analyses. These techniques rely on an assessment of step depth, which is the number of defined spaces an individual must pass through to get from a space of origin, known as the carrier space, to another space. Figure 1 shows the step depth of different rooms from the carrier space 0. These tools have been applied and tested on a number of different house structures over the last few decades (Aldrigue and Trigueiro, 2012; Amorim, 1997, 2001; Bellal, 2007; Bellal and Brown, 2003; Çil, 2007; Kirsan, 2003; Monteiro, 1997; Unlu, 1999), resulting in a cohesive and reliable approach to investigating house structures.

Illustrative example of step depth and j-graph for Structure A.
A spatial approach to ships
Ships carry a similar set of requirements to houses for the organization of space. A ship needs to have separate sleeping and activity areas, an allocated space for food production and storage areas. A ship is also a bounded living area wherein the occupants are constrained in their actions to the immediate space of the ship, just as a consideration of houses assumes activities occur within the structure of the house. While occupants of houses can travel outside and interact in an exterior environment, unlike a ship’s crew, a consideration of the relationship between spatial organization and social interaction within the structure of the house is necessarily bounded by the limits of the house structure. In this way, it is practical to utilize the techniques and methods developed through the space syntax analysis of houses in the context of ships; however, some adjustments to current house methodologies must be considered.
Borrowing from the above-mentioned studies of houses, I have created a methodological approach to the study of ships and shipboard societies using space syntax techniques. Specifically, this approach comprises three basic alterations to traditional house studies:
1) Permeability and visibility studies
2) Reconsideration of convex spaces
3) Approaches to multi-level structures
Firstly, house studies traditionally engage questions regarding the permeability of rooms within a structure as well as the relationship between visibility and social relations in a space. Both approaches can be applied to the study of ships, although different characteristics must be considered to those applied to houses. Visibility within a ship can vary according to the condition of the ship and the particular situation in which it is engaged. For instance, a well-ordered ship will have cables, weaponry, hammocks and various tools well stored for easy access and clear decks, while a less well-kept ship may have these materials hanging from inappropriate places or spilling out onto the deck. In this way, the quality of visibility throughout a ship is not necessarily well reflected in the layout of the ship alone, but requires additional information about the manner in which the ship was kept. These characteristics will vary depending on the preferences of the individual captaining the ship and so are difficult to track archaeologically. In addition, visibility would have changed according to the situation the ship and crew found themselves in. For instance, during a conflict the characteristics of naval action limit visibility throughout the ship due to cannon smoke, falling rigging and collapsed bulkheads. A consideration of visibility in the ship must take account of these possible scenarios. Through visibility analysis it is possible to understand the impact of visibility in a ship on the social relations of the crew in very specific contexts; however, due to the considerations mentioned above it was not engaged for this study.
An analysis of permeability within a ship addresses the organization of defined spaces aboard and the manner in which they are linked to other spaces. Unlike visibility analysis, this approach is less dependent on the particular impacts of a specific captain to the organization of the ship, but, rather, relies primarily on the layout of the ship. A study of the permeability of a ship comprises an understanding of the depth of spaces throughout and the integration of spaces within the ship. This necessitates the definition of spaces for analysis, specifically convex spaces. The building block of an analysis of finite spaces, within a built structure, involves the definition of independent spatial units. These units, called convex spaces, comprise areas within which all locations are mutually visible. A general rule of thumb is that the spaces be as ‘fat’ as possible (i.e. the length and width are approximately equal; Figure 2); however, the type and shape of space may dictate a different approach. For example, Bafna (2001) and Aldrigue and Trigueiro (2012) delineated convex spaces in houses and offices based on functional categories. The definition of such spaces enables an understanding of the total depth of a space (i.e. the number of spaces that must be travelled through to arrive at any other space within the complex) and its depth relative to an external point outside the system (the control space).

Illustrated example of the delineation of convex spaces. In (a) the spaces identified are indeed convex spaces; however, they are both long and thin, while (b) presents convex spaces selected according to the stipulation that spaces be as fat as possible (after Morton et al., 2012).
For the purposes of this study, each ships’ diagram was digitized for convex space analysis. Employing a space syntax analysis program called JASS (Koch, 2004), created at KTH University, it was possible to import the original plan drawings themselves for analysis. Based on the constructed division of space in each plan, convex spaces were allocated and ascribed nodal points. As this form of analysis relies predominantly on the spatial organization of these areas and not their individual composition it is appropriate to ignore the makeup of each room.
Convex space analysis, traditionally employed in single-level constructions, has been successfully utilized in the analysis of multi-level structures (e.g. Zhang et al., 2012). For the purposes of this study, each deck of a ship has been spatially differentiated as an independent entity. The convex space associated with the large central area of each deck was then directly linked to the related convex space of the deck below. The number of gangways connecting each deck dictated the number of link lines joining them. The gangways themselves were not given a convex space allocation as they were not areas of activity and congregation, but rather of passage. Each convex space aboard the ship was then linked to the subsequent spaces of direct access surrounding them. Having created a web of interconnected convex spaces throughout the ships it was possible to analyse the ships’ layouts according to established space syntax calculations.
Social composition of Georgian crews
The most prominent social division for the crew was according to rank (see Figure 3), although the tendency to divide the ship into two homogenous groups of officers and seamen is incorrect. In addition to rank, the men were also grouped according to watches, messes, musters and jobs.

Illustrative example of hierarchical breakdown of ranks aboard a ship.
Commissioned officers were those individuals given an official long-term, or career, contract with the navy. It was often required that these men also hold the social status of gentleman on land, although there were occasional instances of long-time seamen being given commissions due to their experience and years of service (Rodger, 1986). Warrant officers were also given long-term contracts with the navy but these were often restricted to service in a particular ship. Despite holding the same rank there was often a social discrepancy between sailing and idling warrant officers, the latter having specialities unrelated to the functional operation of the ship and often being unable to sail (Rodger, 1986). Between the officers and the rest of the crew there was a fairly ill-defined and inconsistent group of men known as inferior officers. These men did not really have officer status, but were differentiated from the ordinary seamen by the special skill sets they possessed. Some typical inferior officers were the armourer, gunsmith, sailmaker, cook, surgeon’s mate and master-at-arms (Lavery, 1994). The midshipmen and master’s mates were also included among the inferior officers, but were considered of a slightly elevated rank as they were usually young men being groomed for commission as lieutenants. The remainder of the crew, holding the official rank of ratings, were divided into landmen, ordinary seamen, able seamen and petty officers. The position of landman, ordinary, and able seaman usually reflected the number of years at sea and subsequent experience (Lavery, 1994). The position of petty officer was usually given to ratings who were in charge of a group of other ratings, such as the head of a topsail group (Rodger, 2004).
In addition to official ranks and jobs the men aboard a ship were divided into seamen and idlers. Seamen were those men whose jobs had to do with the sailing of the ship, while idlers were specialists who generally had little experience of sailing (Vale, 2001). Commonly, idlers were the carpenter, purser and surgeon, and their subordinates, or mates, who would assist them. Idlers did not stand watches and so conducted a relatively normal life, working during the day and sleeping at night (Rodger, 1986). Seamen, on the other hand, were divided into starboard and larboard watches, which would alternate watch periods. According to official naval doctrine there were to be three watches, but many captains thought this would leave too much downtime and encourage sloth and laziness (Lavery, 1994). Watches were generally four hours long with the exception of the two two-hour dog watches, between four and eight in the evening, which would switch the rotation of the watches (Rodger, 1986). Time was kept by turning a half-hour glass, with a bell being rung on each half hour, so that one watch was eight bells long. Each sea day began at 4 am when the first watch would begin the day by ‘holy stoning the deck’, a process that included rubbing wet sand on the deck with a stone to keep the wood from getting slippery (Frykman, 2009). The day would be recorded at noon when the officer of the watch would use his sextant to make noon and record the ship’s position. The cycle of a sea day was therefore made up of seven watches. During a watch, the men would be divided into task groups to carry out work on the ship.
The working seamen on the ship were divided, based on where in the ship they worked, into topmen, forecastle and quarter deck men, and waisters. The topmen were the smartest, most able and most courageous men on the ship, responsible for going aloft to work the topsail rigging, and as such commanded great respect among the seamen (Lavery, 1994). The forecastle and quarter deck men were usually very skilled sailors, but not fit enough to be topmen. These usually included the older seamen aboard and they were responsible for jobs on the forecastle and quarterdeck. These tasks were usually those that required a great deal of knowledge about the sailing of a ship and could include setting the lower rigging and tackle, raising and lowering the anchor, and managing the steering column and quarterdeck guns (Vale, 2001). Finally, the waisters comprised the less-skilled seamen and those being punished. The term ‘waisters’ derived from the fact that the majority of their responsibilities took place on the waist of the ship, between the forecastle in the bow and quarterdeck in the stern. These responsibilities did not usually involve much thought, or have a huge impact on the effective running of the ship, but required a fair amount of brute strength (Rodger, 1986).
During conflict the ship’s crew was divided into action groups according to a quarter bill. This bill would stipulate where each individual would be stationed and what his job would be during a naval conflict. Generally crews were divided into a small arms team, gun crews and carronade crews (Vale, 2001). Small arms crews were usually made up of the marines aboard ship as well as handpicked men whom they trained for action as part of a boarding party. In terms of the gun and carronade crews, each gun was manned by a crew of 12 men and each carronade by a crew of five men. Each member of a gun or carronade crew had a specific responsibility, such as gun captain, rammer, handspike, loader or runner (Vale, 2001).
The most informal division amongst the men was that of the mess. Generally captains would let the crew choose their own mess groups, as these were not integral to the running of the ship and giving the choice fostered respect for the captain. A mess group ate together at tables slung up between the guns. Each member of the mess would take a turn as ‘cook’ of the mess, collecting each crewman’s allotted rations from the steward and ensuring they were cooked in the galley before delivering them back to their messmates (Vale, 2001). Among the seamen and ratings, the mess groups transcended naval rank and job aboard a ship. Usually made up of a group of friends, mess groups commonly comprised topmen, waisters or idlers all in one group.
The officers, on the other hand, would mess amongst themselves. Generally the commissioned officers would mess in the wardroom, while the warrant officers messed in the gunroom. The captain would usually eat in his dining room, although it was often customary for him to dine in the wardroom or gunroom when invited. These invitations would often be reciprocated for those officers who had a close relationship with the captain or had distinguished themselves in some way.
When not on watch or sleeping, the crew spent most of their free time on the gun deck. Hammocks were slung fore to aft over the guns and ran four deep. Each was 14 inches wide, but each hammock alternated watches so that there was usually about 28 inches between one man and the next (Rodger, 1986). During the day, the hammocks would be rolled up and stored in netting troughs lining the forecastle and quarterdeck, which would provide a minimal amount of cover from small arms and musket fire during combat. While at sea, the gun ports would be closed, as they were only six feet from the water line, in order to prevent water seeping into the ship. Even with the sails sometimes offering a breeze below, the gun deck was usually dark with little air movement. Despite the obvious discomforts associated with smell and lack of light, many sailors tended to prefer this environment after spending hours in the lofty rigging or on the windy deck (Rodger, 1986). To combat the dark damp environment, the men would often dry their clothes by the galley stove (Lavery, 1994).
Not all men slept and spent their free time on the gun deck. The more privileged seamen made up quarters in other areas of the ship. The boatswain and carpenter, for instance, would sometimes berth under the forecastle where heat from the galley would provide warmth and the gun ports were high enough above the water to be opened while at sea (Rodger, 2004). The purser and the surgeon often berthed on the orlop deck, where they could be mindful of the ship’s stores and medical supplies. Most senior warrant and inferior officers were often given the gunroom as a berth, for its additional privacy (Rodger, 1986).
Analysis
A number of ship diagrams were obtained from the archives of the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, England, for this study. The best preserved, descriptive, and more representative diagrams for each rate of ship were chosen for analysis. The ships chosen for the study were: HMS Impregnable (1786) – 98-gun, 2nd rate ship of the line (Figure 4) HMS Tremendous (1784) – 74-gun, 3rd rate ship of the line (Figure 5) HMS Assistance (1747) – 50-gun, 4th rate ship of the line (Figure 6) HMS Southampton (1757) – 32-gun, 5th rate ship (Figure 7) HMS Arachne (1809) – 18-gun, sloop of war (Figure 8)

Labelled diagram of HMS Impregnable (used with permission National Maritime Museum: ZAZ7943–ZAZ7947, ZAZ0209).

Labelled diagram of HMS Tremendous (used with permission NMM: ZAZ1090–ZAZ1093).

Labelled diagram of HMS Assistance (red additions are a result of comparison with the plan of HMS Bristol) (used with permission NMM: ZAZ1654–ZAZ1657).

Labelled diagram of HMS Southampton (used with permission NMM: ZAZ3070).

Labelled archival diagram of HMS Arachne (used with permission NMM: ZAZ4155).
Computer-based spatial analysis
As noted above, space syntax methodologies allow for a quantitative analysis of different values associated with spatial distributions. Each ship was subject to convex space analysis using JASS software (Koch, 2004). For the convex space analysis of each ship’s layout, total depth (TD) and real relative asymmetry (RRA) values were calculated. Figure 9 demonstrates the allocation of convex spaces for HMS Southampton, for the purpose of discussing the calculation of each value.

Illustrative example of step depth and convex spaces using HMS Southampton.
Total depth (TD) is the sum of all levels within a system, whereby each level is defined as the sum of all connected spaces within that level. It is calculated by multiplying the number of nodes on a level (where the carrier space is weighted as zero) by the level they are on and then finding the sum of those values for all levels (Ostwald, 2011). Such that TD = (0 x n x ) + (1 x n x ) + (2 x n x ) + …. (X x n x ). Therefore, for HMS Southampton, TD = (0 x 1) + (1 x 1) + (2 x 2) + (3 x 4) + (4 x 12) = 0 + 1 + 4 + 12 + 48 = 65. Therefore the total depth of HMS Southampton is 65.
Relative asymmetry (RA) is a normalized depth value for comparison between buildings with a different number of rooms. This is only useful when comparing buildings with a similar number of rooms, for instance a building with nine rooms may be compared to a building with 12 using relative asymmetry values, but the greater the difference in the number of rooms (K values) the less viable a comparison becomes (Ostwald, 2011). For a comparison of buildings with large differences in K values, the relative asymmetry value must be further converted into a value of real relative asymmetry, as discussed below. In a qualitative sense, relative asymmetry is a representation of ‘tree’ structures in justified permeability graphs, nodal spaces linked in sequence (Hanson, 1998). The linear structure of highly asymmetric spaces means that an individual must pass through one space before accessing another; as such, these spaces enact a degree of control over the others. Relative asymmetry is calculated to give a value between zero and one. Therefore, rooms with higher relative asymmetry values are considered to be more isolated, while those with low relative asymmetry values are considered less isolated. The calculation for relative asymmetry is:
Real relative asymmetry (RRA) is the conversion of relative asymmetry for cross comparison of buildings with a large difference in K value. To obtain the real relative asymmetry value for a building, the relative asymmetry value is compared against a benchmark configuration. This approach was first developed by Hillier and Hanson (1984) and begins with the construction of a scalable spatial configuration. This formation will provide the benchmark against which sets of results may be relativized. The scalable configuration chosen was a diamond, with a relative asymmetry value of D. Hillier and Hanson describe this diamond configuration as one ‘in which there are K spaces at mean depth level, K/2 at one level above and below, K/4 at two levels above and below, and so on until there is one space at the shallowest and deepest point’ (1984: 111–112). This relationship then is translated to a table of D values for K spaces. The real relative asymmetry value is then calculated by dividing the relative asymmetry value by the relativized D value for the K spaces of the building:
Therefore, for HMS Southampton, RRA = RA/D k = 0.269/0.225 = 1.195. The real relative asymmetry for the carrier space 0 in HMS Southampton is 1.195.
Convex space results
The quantitative values produced through this analysis reflect the spatial organization of social hierarchies and accessibility identified in journals and archival documents describing life aboard ships of the British Royal Navy during this time period. Firstly, the layouts examined show an internal distribution of bed places that reflects a vertical and horizontal representation of hierarchy within the ship. Figure 10 shows the depth values associated with individual living spaces aboard each of the ships. Visually there is a very distinct difference in depth values throughout the ships, with HMS Impregnable exhibiting the greatest diversity in depth values associated with living spaces, and HMS Southampton the least. Increased diversity is characteristic of the vertical displacement of living spaces aboard the ship, representative of social hierarchies afloat. By analysing the depth values of living spaces, it is possible to present a model of the physical manifestation of social stratification aboard a ship.

Illustrative example of hierarchical differentiation aboard the ship using depth values.
In a similar fashion it is possible to evaluate the social stratification of officers aboard the ships. The journal of Robert Guthrie (NMM: JOD/17), a surgeon aboard HMS Seringapatam in 1831–1832, notes that the surgeon was often separated socially from the sailing officers. As with the hierarchy of the ship, this social separation may have been represented in the spatial organization of the ship.
Figure 11 shows the depth values of the wardroom, gunroom and surgeon’s cabin for each ship. The larger ships exhibit very distinct differences between each of the living areas, representative of the spatial separation of each type of officer. The lower classes of ship show much less spatial distinction between the officers, so that for HMS Southampton and HMS Arachne they are all the same. HMS Assistance shows the wardroom and gunroom having the same depth with the surgeon’s cabin still separated.

Illustrative example of depth values associated with the living spaces of the commissioned, warrant, and idle warrant officers.
It is possible that the difference in depth value of the living spaces associated with these officers represents an actual social separation aboard the ship, such that on larger ships the commissioned officers, warrant officers and idle warrant officers are very socially separate. This trend then diminishes, so that on HMS Assistance the commissioned and warrant officers are more socially connected, while the idle warrant officers remain separated, and on HMS Southampton and HMS Arachne all officers are socially connected. A similar spatial segregation of junior officers was also employed by members of the Hudson’s Bay Company (in a military fashion) in remote fur trade camps in northern Canada (Hamilton, 2000).
A second measure, identified in archival ships documents, is that of complexity. The log of the slave ship Sandown (NMM: LOG/M/21) and the journal of Commodore Anson’s voyage (NMM: JOD/36), kept aboard HMS Tryal, both discuss the spread of illness throughout small ships, while the quarter bills of HMS Sans Pereil (NMM: WQB/10) and HMS Royal Sovereign (NMM: PLT/53) refer to the ability of a larger ship to successfully quarantine ill crew members. Figure 12 and Figure 13 show the depth values of all spaces aboard HMS Impregnable and HMS Arachne.

Depth values for spaces aboard HMS Impregnable.

Depth values for spaces aboard HMS Arachne.
Based on these graphs, HMS Impregnable not only features higher depth values than HMS Arachne, but also presents an altogether more complex layout. This greater complexity lends itself well to the sequestering of ill crew members in order to prevent the spread of illness in a ship. Ships of a similar complexity to HMS Arachne would likely have experienced difficulties in managing illness aboard ship. HMS Southampton (Figure 14) exhibits a very similar depth graph to HMS Arachne and would therefore likely have suffered if her crew took ill, while HMS Assistance (Figure 15), with a more complex graph, may have been spared the same degree of suffering.

Depth values of spaces aboard HMS Southampton.

Depth values of spaces aboard HMS Assistance.
The journal of the slave ship Duke of Argyle (NMM: LOG/M/46) reported unrest aboard after the bulkheads of the lower deck were reorganized to accommodate the slaves. The above depth graph would appear to suggest that the lack of complexity in spatial organization may be a contributing factor to the disturbance. Considering the real relative asymmetry values (Figure 16), however, it is possible to interpret the layout slightly differently. HMS Arachne represents the closest approximation to the layout and spatial organization of the Duke of Argyle, being of similar size and sail composition. The RRA values for the spaces aboard HMS Arachne reflect a complex organization of highly secluded and highly integrated areas. This complexity is showcased particularly in the organization of the cabins and living spaces aboard. This diversity of integrated and secluded spaces lends itself well to a physical structuring of social hierarchies and social relationships, and would likely contribute to the governance of the crew. As described in the journal of the Duke of Argyle, the removal of these physical boundaries altered the social organization of the ship’s population and may have resulted in unrest among the crew.

Real relative asymmetry values for spaces aboard HMS Arachne.
In addition to these correlations, the results of the space syntax analysis provides an opportunity for the organization of data for the purpose of model building, identifying aspects of shipboard societies not immediately visible in the ship layouts. In particular, these data can help formulate models of access for ranks aboard the ships and genotypes for future comparisons.
Access rings
As with most terrestrial military installations, access throughout ships was tightly controlled. For instance, the quarter deck was off limits to almost everyone but the commissioned officers, the exceptions being warrant and petty officers responsible for steering actions, such as the master and coxswain. Similarly, most of the seaman aboard the ship would have been restricted to activities on the lower deck when on their off watch. These and other general rules being known, it is possible to construct an access diagram for different personnel aboard the ships.
As access was mainly related to rank, the easiest way to group the crews for this study was to divide them into rank-based groups, as follows: admiral, captain, commissioned officers, marines, warrant officers, idle warrant officers, ratings and passengers. The mean real relative asymmetry values of areas known to be accessible to each class of the ship’s population were combined for comparison, and graphed (see Figures 17–21).

Radar graph illustrating access values for personnel aboard HMS Impregnable, based on real relative asymmetry.

Radar graph illustrating access values for personnel aboard HMS Tremendous, based on real relative asymmetry.

Radar graph illustrating access values for personnel aboard HMS Assistance, based on real relative asymmetry.

Radar graph illustrating access values for personnel aboard HMS Southampton, based on real relative asymmetry.

Radar graph illustrating access values for personnel aboard HMS Arachne, based on real relative asymmetry.
Based on these results it is possible to model the level of seclusion that each crew member could access, so that each member would be able to access all spaces assigned values equal to or lower than their mean value. As these are mean values, there will of course be outliers but what is illustrated is a useful approximation of access from which to launch further investigation.
As expected, the captain and admiral occupy the outermost rings of the graph indicating that they would have been able to access the most secluded areas of the ships. In the case of HMS Impregnable, the passengers aboard occupy the next outermost rings, indicating that they were able to access some of the more secluded areas of the ship. This is not to say that they would have had the run of the ship, but rather it probably shows that they would have joined the captain or admiral for dinner and other occasions, and would have been able to access some of these areas beyond the reach of the officers and crewmen. The access of the rest of the crew follows as would be expected, with the commissioned and warrant officers being able to access similarly secluded areas, the idle warrant officers and marines slightly less secluded areas, and the ratings able to access only the more integrated areas of the ship. The values for each group were then averaged to produce an image of access for all ships of the Royal Navy (Figure 22). These results provide a quantified description of access aboard English naval ships of this period. Future studies of spatial organization aboard these ships may utilize these values as a basis for comparing integration and access in other ships of the Royal Navy.

Radar graph illustrating average access of personnel aboard all classes of ships of the Royal Navy, based on real relative asymmetry values.
Genotypes
The construction of architectural genotypes has been prevalent in space syntax study virtually since its inception. Genotypes, based on integration values for spaces within a structure, are a useful way of comparing variety or conformity within an architectural style. Following genotype studies by Bafna (2001) and Aldrigue and Trigueiro (2012), nodal points described in the convex space analysis above were assigned categories. For all ships, spaces aboard were divided into: living/sleeping areas, deck, storerooms and utility areas. The mean depth and real relative asymmetry values for each category were calculated (Table 1) and plotted (Figure 23).
Mean real relative asymmetry (RRA) values the categorical spaces for each ship of the study.

Plot of the mean real relative asymmetry values spatial categories aboard the ships of this study.
The plot in Figure 23 presents a graphical representation of the integration of typological spaces aboard the ships. As with houses and offices, it is possible to compare these plots in an effort to understand variations in style and construction. Based on the plot, it would appear that HMS Impregnable and HMS Assistance shared very similar organization of these categorical spaces, while the same can be said for HMS Tremendous and HMS Southampton. In addition, HMS Impregnable and HMS Assistance have values largely appearing above the mean line, while the values of HMS Tremendous and HMS Southampton appear mainly below the mean line. The values for HMS Arachne do not appear to correlate well with either group and feature values both above and below the mean line.
Without a larger sample of ships from various classes, there is little interpretive value to these plots, but nonetheless an interesting pattern has emerged considering the groupings of the ships. The similarity of HMS Impregnable and HMS Assistance is at first glance odd, as it would be expected that the former would have more in common with HMS Tremendous based on size and armament; however, this similarity makes much more sense when considering the tactical relevance and social organization of the ships. Due to their size and class, both HMS Impregnable and HMS Assistance would have operated as signal ships for an admiral as part of a fleet, in domestic and foreign waters respectively (Archibald, 1968). As such, despite a difference in size, the social organization of space would have been very similar. Likewise, ships of the class of HMS Tremendous and HMS Southampton were considered the fighting workhorses of the navy and so their social organization of space would not have required the inclusion of an admiral. In this way, it is possible to interpret some aspects of the social organization of these ships from a genotype plot.
Another means of comparing genotypes is as a ranked order of integration. For this, each category in a ship is ranked according to their integration value (displayed in Table 1). Table 2 illustrates the results of this ranking, where ‘D’ represents decks, ‘St’ storerooms, ‘Li’ Living/Sleeping areas, and ‘U’ utility areas.
Ranked order of integration for each ship.
D = decks, St = storerooms, Li = Living/Sleeping areas, and U = utility areas.
Organizing the results in this fashion enables a very general comparison of the organization of space aboard the ships. In all cases, the decks are the most integrated category of spaces aboard the ship, which makes sense when considering that they provide a platform for, and access to, all other spaces aboard. In the case of this organization of the data, HMS Impregnable and HMS Tremendous share identical genotypes, with HMS Assistance and HMS Southampton sharing very similar genotypes. Interestingly, for HMS Impregnable and HMS Tremendous, the living spaces represent the most secluded spaces aboard the ship, while for HMS Assistance and HMS Southampton they are the second most inclusive spaces.
Given the size of the dataset for this study, it is not practical to compare these results statistically. The usefulness of these diagrams is in their potential for comparing variations in style and construction of social space throughout a large number of specimens. For instance, a study of Brazilian house styles by Luiz Amorim (1997) was successful in identifying 24 different house styles in a specific region, out of hundreds of cases. A similar application of spatial comparison for ships may be useful in the future to identify trends in ship construction within certain classes, functions, or nationalities. The genotypes in this study may provide a useful benchmark from which to launch future investigations.
Discussion
The examination conducted in this article has provided a detailed analysis of the spatial organization of each ship and its relevance to the social characteristics of shipboard societies. In general, there appears to be a correlation between hierarchy and the distribution of living spaces aboard the ships. In particular, as the ships increased in size so did the complexity of the hierarchical distribution of spaces aboard the ship. Specifically, the larger ships saw a vertical distribution of living spaces associated with the officers of the ship, while this distribution was more horizontal in the smaller ships. In addition, the relationship between commissioned officers, warrant officers and idle warrant officers was explored, indicating that the spatial organization of the smaller ships would have fostered less division between the three classes of officer. Some of the spatial characteristics identified in the examination of ships’ layouts were subsequently identified through applications of space syntax analysis, marking the effectiveness of this approach to the study of shipboard societies. Furthermore, additional applications of space syntax analysis identified characteristics of spatial organization not apparent in the original examination of ship layouts.
It should be noted that this is not meant to be a deterministic model, but rather one of a suite of tools for the examination of shipwrecks. Replication of these methods on other ship layouts will further refine this tool and comparative investigation of genotypically similar ships will build toward a model of socio-spatial organization aboard ships.
Conclusions
The study of shipboard societies requires a holistic research approach. It is necessary to engage historical and archival documents, archaeological material, ethnography and practical experiment. Social characteristics of shipboard life are in some cases spatially oriented and influenced by the spatial organization of a ship. The results of this study have shown that through the use of computer-based spatial analysis it is possible to supplement data from historic and archival sources to understand more fully the nature and characteristics of shipboard societies.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
Thanks to the faculty and staff at the University of Calgary’s Department of Anthropology and Archaeology, and the Arctic Institute of North America. Special thanks to the Caird Library at the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, England, for all archival materials, and to Library’s staff for all their help during my time there. Thanks also to the Choquette Global Experiences Foundation for funding the research for this project. Finally, thanks to Richard Callaghan, Peter Dawson, Gerald Oetelaar and Shawn Morton for their comments and suggestions on earlier drafts of this article. All errors of content or interpretation are my own.
