Greenville Collins Map Man

This is the Lizard, the most southerly point of mainland Britain.

For sailors on the high seas, this was the one piece of land

they could reliably pick out as they tried to head up the English Channel.

But this tranquil beauty spot was also a death trap.

To avoid being wrecked, you have to know where you are.

Think what it was like in the 1600s when you only had sketchy charts

and when ships could be lured onto rocks by wreckers.

Then, in 1693, along came Greenville Collins' "Coasting Pilot",

the first complete survey of British coasts,

their harbours and those treacherous rocks.

But how did Collins do it? Over the next few days,

I'll be sailing along the hazardous Cornish coast in the kind of ship Collins used.

I want to find out the secrets of his achievement.

How did he avoid shipwreck himself?

And can I use his charts to navigate some of the most dangerous rocks and reefs in the world?

What Greenville Collins did was to show the captains of great ships

exactly where they were on the open sea.

The rum lines which crisscrossed his maps

provided the compass bearings needed to set an accurate course.

For the first time, men who'd been in constant danger of shipwreck

could work out the exact route they should take, the rocks to avoid

and the directions to safe anchorages.

It was the best possible guide to Britain's sea coast and harbours,

and it revolutionised British chart-making.

To find out how Collins did it, I've come to Cornwall,

whose coast he mapped in the first year of his survey.

I'll be sailing on the Phoenix

from here at Charlestown to Falmouth,

down to the Lizard, then from there

to one of the deadliest offshore rocks, the Eddystone.

The kind of place that sends a tingle of fear down your spine,

not least because I'll be trying to sail there

using techniques and instruments that Collins used 300 years ago.

Back in the late 17th century, Britain was a huge sea power

and all her imports and exports had to go by sea.

But before Collins, the only published charts were Dutch

and they lacked detail.

At the time, the diarist Samuel Pepys was secretary to the Navy.

He realised that British sailors were in desperate need

of a new, much more accurate survey.

Greenville Collins was given the task.

Collins was chosen because he was a highly experienced Naval officer.

He'd sailed as a captain in the South Seas,

he'd fought Turkish pirates in the Mediterranean

and, on a voyage of discovery to find a northwest passage to China,

he'd been shipwrecked in the Arctic for two months.

And he'd also produced maps of the South American coast,

of the Mediterranean and of Falmouth. He was a man who was up for the job.

Collins began with the English Channel,

the most dangerous stretch of British coastal water.

Britain was then at war with the Dutch.

The Channel was their battlefield.

Dutch privateers, the state-sponsored terrorists of the day, roamed the Channel

looking for ships they could capture and hold to ransom.

And, even close to shore, you could be attacked by Barbary pirates

or drawn onto the rocks by wreckers who used fake warning lights

to wreck your ship and steal your cargo.

These were good reasons for plotting your course with care.

But calculating your position at sea was fraught with difficulty.

There was no reliable way of determining longitude,

so you couldn't tell with accuracy how far east or west you were.

And most ships, at some point on their voyage, got it wrong.

It would be nearly a century

before ships could fix their exact position mid-ocean.

In the meantime, most ships tried to sail close to land,

which gave them landmarks they could recognise.

But it also increased the risk of shipwreck.

Collins was convinced that accurate maps were the answer.

He spent seven years

producing 140 manuscript charts of the British coast.

Question number one is how did you map a coast in the 1680s?

Collins carried out a running traverse. So, what's that?

Well, it means plotting coastal features from two angles.

Put a cross where they intersect and that's the position of the feature.

Join up the crosses and there's your coastline.

With the help of first mate Luca Melzer,

I'm going to have a go. First, I have to fix the position of the ship

by taking a bearing from the ship to that headland over there.

And I make that...to be...

330 degrees from here.

-So, Luca, should we transfer that bearing onto the sketch map?

-Yes.

We do that by lying the ruler on the chart

from the headland back towards our position.

We read off 330 degrees, draw the line.

I would say the distance from here to that headland is about...

-half a mile.

-That's about right.

'The distance from the coast doesn't have to be precise,

'because what really matters is getting the exact position of the coastal features right.'

This is a perfect example of a piece of coast that needs mapping,

because you've got a port sitting between two very dangerous capes

and, off those capes, an even more lethal set of rocks.

Next, I'm going to take a sequence of compass bearings radiating out from the ship

at various points on the land that are essential to be mapped

if a ship is going to sail along this coastline safely.

If I start at the cape we've taken a bearing onto... So, 330...

-Then I can see a bay at 310 degrees.

-310 degrees, yes.

Swivelling round, I can see a number of rocks.

-The first one's at...292.

-292.

A real monster sticking up.

'This is a fantastically detailed exercise,

'particularly with the ship bobbing around.

'And these are nigh-on perfect conditions. Imagine doing this in a big swell!'

-How about using the first house?

-On the cliff?

The left-hand end of the harbour wall we should have, shouldn't we...?

-225.

-225, you say?

225, yes.

Then we've got rocks like crests. I'll start at the left-hand side.

2...

-215.

-215.

-In the middle, the highest point sticking up, even above high tide, is 210.

-210.

So that's the full round. Next thing to do is to lift the anchor

and sail in a dead straight line along the coast,

measuring the distance we cover.

-Easy.

-Easy.

'And that poses another challenge.

'For the chart to be accurate, I have to know the exact distance I travel

'between the two fixed anchorages. And how do I work THAT out?'

There are two measurements we have to make.

The first is to record the time taken for the ship to sail between its two fixed points.

For that, we'll use an hourglass.

The second measurement we'll take is the ship's speed.

For that, we use this - a ship's log.

It's a wooden plate which acts like a brake in the water

and is attached to a line with knots in it. Hence "knot" for nautical speed.

I sling this in the water... and I feed the line out till I get to the first knot.

These knots are spaced so that a ten-second runner will give us a speed in nautical miles per hour.

If I hold this knot here and we start the ten-second timer now,

and I release the line...

and I count the knots as they run through my hands... One knot...

We must be approaching ten seconds.

-Here's a second knot...

-Ten seconds.

Two nautical miles per hour.

I know how fast we're travelling.

Now I'll wait to see how long it's taken us to travel between the two fixed points.

I'll then know what the distance between those two points is.

Well, we've dropped anchor at the second of two fixed points

and now I have to identify all the same landmarks on the coast

and take the bearing to each of them.

Right, let's get the first headland in sight...

'We've sailed for half an hour, so the distance between the two anchorages

'is one nautical mile.

'If I put that calculation together with the two sets of bearings,

'I should get my coastline.'

Well, this is the moment of truth. We've got both anchorages mapped.

Here's our first anchorage... Second here. Radiating out from each

are all the bearings I took from both.

Now, where these radiating lines intersect - here, here and here -

those are my landmarks.

So, in theory, if I join up all these intersecting rays,

I should get the coastline that we're moored just off.

That's one headland...two headlands, then around the coast are rocks...

Now, here's the inlet,

the sheltered haven. Then it comes round here

and the coast comes all the way out towards the far headland.

Then there's one other very important feature to map - the rocks.

There they are.

I've managed to map one nautical mile

but it's taken the best part of a day in perfect conditions.

No wonder it took Collins seven years to map the entire British coastline!

I think I deserve a drink after all that.

That means a quick trip ashore.

Imagine you're a sea captain coming in out of the Atlantic in a gale.

You've rounded the Lizard and you urgently need a safe haven.

You look at Collins's chart of the English Channel and see

there is a place called Falmouth,

so you turn to the Falmouth page in the Coasting Pilot...and here it is,

and what you find is a beautiful large-scale map

of the Falmouth anchorage

with everything you need to know marked on it.

I'm coming in from the south

and the hazards are all laid out very clearly for me.

For example, rocks - little black crosses, showing you where not to go.

He's got the sandbanks and mudbanks

marked with stippled areas, so I can't take my ship there.

And the numbers all over this map refer to depths in fathoms,

all over the main sailing areas.

They range from 18 fathoms here to only half a fathom up here.

So we know where the hazards are... Where do you drop anchor?

Well, Collins has helped by putting

little anchor symbols in the places where it's best to drop anchor.

Around Carrock Road are anchors

where you can safely moor up for the night.

Look at this incredibly beautiful cartouche in the top left-hand corner

of the Falmouth map.

In this cartouche are people going about their normal Cornish business.

For example, there are two tin miners or lead miners.

There's a fisherman picking up fish.

There are two men putting what look like herrings in a pickling barrel.

It was very difficult making money from the land and the sea then,

so most of these characters were supplementing their income

from another means - smuggling.

'Well, it's been a long day,

'but now I have a good idea of how Collins did his meticulous survey

'and tomorrow I want to answer two more questions

'about Collins's chart.

'Can I really use it today to sail into Falmouth Harbour?

'And was it any help in catching those smugglers?

'Heading off to Falmouth now,

'Collins's chart of Falmouth Harbour looks like an absolute masterpiece.

'So, with the extra help of his written instructions,

'can I navigate our way in?' Collins says the first thing to look out for

is "Pendennis Castle, which standeth on a hill

"on the west side of the harbour's mouth."

He's also provided a shore profile

which marks Pendennis Castle here,

standing on a very pronounced hill

to the left of the harbour entrance,

which is just here, and he's written,

"Thus showeth the going into Falmouth

"when Pendennis Castle beareth north-west by north at two leagues."

Two leagues is about six miles.

We'll be coming into Falmouth at much closer in than two leagues,

but the view should be the same. All we've got to do

is spot Pendennis Castle on the shore

and line ourselves up for a north, north-west approach.

The Phoenix has reached exactly the right location.

I can see all the features that Collins told me to look for.

Here's Pendennis Castle, with its round tower, and there it is there.

The hill profile's the same, although Collins exaggerated the sloping

so it would catch seafarers' eyes.

To the right of it, the harbour entrance,

and above it is a wood that I can see

300 years after Collins drew his charts.

He warns us also of a rock

"which lieth in the harbour's mouth

"and lieth nearer the west shore than the east shore."

It's called Falmouth Rock and it's incredibly dangerous

because it's invisible at high tide.

Well, over there, I can see what looks like

a danger beacon on top of some sort of submerged obstable

and I think that's the rock.

Collins indicates that the best route in is on the east side of this rock.

"You may sail up the fairway keeping your lead," he says,

but how do you keep your lead?

Time to learn a bit about checking sea depths with a lead weight.

This looks like a child's skipping rope covered in coloured tassles.

Can you reassure me that it's actually a navigational instrument?

I can indeed. It's actually, if you look at it,

-got markings all the way round...

-Oh, yes.

-This is a half marking -

half a fathom, which is three feet,

-and the further we go down...

-That's one fathom.

-One fathom,

which is six foot. As we go down again, we'll find another fathom,

with another six foot between it. What these would be used for...

During the day, we wouldn't even have to haul it back up.

We would be able to tell from which tassle was at the surface

what our depth was

and at night-time we'd pull the material out and put it in our mouth

and you could tell the difference between the wool, cotton or leather

-and get some idea of how deep it is.

-Brilliant.

The Phoenix needs at least three fathoms, or 18 feet,

to sail into harbour safely, so exactly how much water is down there?

The trick is to throw this without the coils getting tangled...

This is called swinging lead?

Swinging the lead, indeed.

One...two...

three!

-Good throw, even if I say it myself.

-Yeah. Excellent.

-I felt it hit the bottom.

-Did you?

Wait till it gets to you. Haul it in until it's taut. There we go.

Is that...?

That's it there.

-So we count from the cloth mark to the lead weight?

-Yes.

-That's one fathom...

-Yeah.

..two...

..three...

..four...

-It's five fathoms.

-Five fathoms. Exactly.

'Five fathoms - about 30 feet.

'That's perfect.

'Incredible to think that using Collins's chart and directions

'and a lead weight on a bit of rope,

'we've navigated our way into Falmouth harbour -

'more evidence that Collins's work is valuable today,

'just as it was in the 1690s.

'So, what about those smugglers?

'I want to find some of the places they hid their contraband

'when the Customs and Excise men were chasing them.'

Line.

Thank you.

'Helford Sound is famous for its smuggling history.

'Collins shows it as an inlet,

'far too shallow for the Phoenix,

'so if I'm going to investigate the accuracy of this part of the chart,

'I'll have to find another way in.'

-Hello, Chris.

-Hello. All right?

'Chris Bean was born and brought up on the Helford.

'An experienced local fisherman,

'he knows the estuary like the back of his hand.'

So, does Collins's 300-year-old version of Helford

match your modern mental map?

Yes, I think from the point of view

of an ocean-going sailing ship,

the approaches are good.

I think that the creeks

are poorly indicated,

but the smugglers would be quite happy to...

see the lack of information on the places that really matter!

-He left scope for Cornish smugglers.

-Yeah. Maybe he's on the payroll.

'The backwaters of the Helford are notoriously tricky

'and far too dangerous for big ships,

'so did the smugglers have a free run of it?'

This is Frenchman's Creek, the most famous smugglers' creek in England.

-Yes, I suppose it is.

-Through Daphne Du Maurier's novel.

Well, if you look around, you can see the little niches

and hideaway places. You could see a vessel tied up under the bank...

You could pull a rowing boat up under the boughs of the trees

-and it would disappear instantly.

-That's right.

Especially at this time of year, with good foliage on the trees.

Lots of camouflage for a smuggler's boat.

It's such a long way from the main river that by the time you come up around these doglegs,

nobody would know you're here.

So this was both unmapped and a no-go area for the Customs and Excise?

Yes, around these creeks

there are footpaths and little bridle tracks

back to the landowners and the local villages,

so it would be easy enough to move stuff away by packhorse.

Spirit barrels away... Feels like an Amazonian backwater. It doesn't feel as if we're in Britain.

It's a lost world.

Onto the next leg of my journey. I want to sail down to the Lizard.

It was vital to sight the Lizard to get into the Channel.

Too far south and you could run onto the rocks of Brittany.

Too far north and you could be wrecked off Land's End.

The Lizard is also the obvious place

to start my really serious test of Collins's work.

I want to see whether I can sail

from the Lizard, off our starboard bow, all the way to Eddystone Rock,

38 nautical miles over there.

The Phoenix is bound for a single, lethal rock, out of sight beyond the horizon,

but on the way I'm going to put 17th-century methods of navigation,

and Collins's chart, to the test.

To make it a bit more of a challenge,

we're setting off just as the sun sets,

so the journey will involve sailing overnight.

To navigate,

the process we'll be using all the way to Eddystone

is called "dead reckoning".

Dead reckoning means keeping a record of the speed and the distance

you've sailed, but to do that you have to allow for the way the wind and tide can push you off course,

because none of us want to end up as another wreck on Eddystone Rock.

Of course, the other traditional navigational tool

on a clear night...is the stars,

but what do they tell you?

Can they really put you on an accurate course in the dead of night?

We've left the mainland behind.

We're sailing out to sea. It's a beautiful, clear night.

The sky's stuffed with stars, but where do you start?

Um...the best way to start would be probably with the Plough,

-which is part of the constellation of Great Bear...

-Yeah.

..the most conspicuous constellation in the northern hemisphere.

You see you've got those two pointers,

-the last two stars in the blade...

-On the end of the plough?

That's right. And they point

straight towards Polaris, the North Star or the Pole Star.

The Pole Star's standing up there all on its own, very clearly.

It's in the constellation of the Little Plough.

What does the Pole Star tell you?

The Pole Star tells you

the geographical pole,

so if you are heading towards the Pole Star, you'll be heading north,

and the other important bit is

if you imagine the arc between the horizon and the Pole Star,

that should give you a latitude, your latitude.

So that one star will tell you

your compass direction and how far north or south you are on the globe.

That's right.

'We could be in the 1600s.

'This is sailing as Collins knew it.

'A still night, steering by the stars...

'the biggest map of all.

'Magical!'

We've been sailing all night on our dead-reckoning course,

but I'm wondering now how much we've been pushed sideways

by the wind and tide. Keith, are we on course or not?

I think we're close to course.

We've allowed for five degrees leeway for the effect of the wind.

The tides we can't be so sure of.

All this looks the same to me.

We're in a huge expanse of open sea. I can't tell one bit from another.

Have we got any way of double-checking our position?

Yes, we have here an instrument which Collins would have had,

which is a Davis quadrant.

Is this a later version of the old-fashioned cross-staff

-which used to burn out the eyes of navigators?

-That's right,

but this one works on the basis of using the shadow of the sun.

-You stand with your back to the sun?

-Correct.

-OK. How do you use it?

-Hold it in your right hand...

-Is this the eyehole you look through?

-Yes, which you line up with the horizon...

-Got it.

I can see the shadow.

-Got the shadow on the slot...

-And line up the slot with the horizon.

This slides up and down this calibrated scale.

OK, the shadow's meeting the slot meeting the horizon,

so I now take readings off this scale. OK.

-And add it to the scale on that side.

-It says we've got

49 degrees...55 minutes.

And that would be reasonable.

-Is that our latitude?

-Yeah.

-And is that the right bit of sea?

-There or thereabouts.

-I hope so.

Don't want to hit the rocks.

'Well, Keith seems confident, but I'm not so sure.

'I'm going to take a look up top.

'Strewth!

'This is not for the faint-hearted.

'One slip here and you're on the deck or in the sea.

'Still no sign. We're obviously some way off.

'Truth is I'm used to maps that show you exactly where you are.

'Sailing to Eddystone 17th-century-style

'seems a bit more hit-and-miss.

'And I don't just want to see the rock. I want to land on it.

'15 hours. It's been such a long haul.

'We've just trimmed the sails to increase our speed

'and I'm checking our course every five minutes.

'We must surely be very near now.'

There it is! Eddystone Rock.

38 miles and 16 hours after leaving the Lizard, we've got here!

OK, going for it...

Going for it...

Eddystone is the site

of the world's first lighthouse to be built on an offshore rock.

Work started here in 1696,

just three years after Collins' Coasting Pilot was published.

I got here!

The extraordinary thing about Collins's life

is that after all of his efforts

the establishment turned its back on him and his ideas,

alleging that his charts were not accurate enough.

History has decided differently.

Despite the establishment's dismissive attitude to his work,

Collins's charts proved a huge success.

They're a landmark in maritime history.

They safely brought home ships and sailors for over a century

and the charts we use today are their direct descendants -

Collins updated, if you like.

The Coasting Pilot confirmed Greenville Collins

as a pioneer of modern hydrography,

one of the greatest British map-makers of all time.

Subtitles by Audrey Flynn and Suzanne Macdonald BBC Broadcast 2004

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