Reference to a chart of the Thames Estuary will show that the dominant feature of the submarine morphology is the series of elongated banks, of which the Barrow, Sunk and Long Sand are the most important. Between these banks, and with the same north-east to south-west trend, are the navigable channels of the Swin, Barrow and Black Deep (Fig. 1).

The alignment of the channels suggests that they originated as a result of tidal-stream scour of a fairly uniform sheet of fine silt and sand. In each tidal period, streams enter the estuary from the north and flow on the flood in a south-westerly direction parallel to the Essex coast. After about six hours they slacken, turn and flow out of the estuary in the reverse direction. This continuous flood and ebb stream action, with a maximum velocity varying from 2·3 to 2·9 knots depending on whether the tide is neap or spring, has apparently scoured out channels to depths which exceed 10 fathoms in places. If the channels largely arose in this way, the banks represent the modified remnants of the initial surface. These banks are constantly being extended seaward as more riverine silt is emptied into the estuary by the Thames, Medway and the rivers of Essex. The distal end of Long Sand alone has grown almost ½ mile in the past 100 years (see Figs. 1 and 4).

Although the Royal Navy has used various bridge designs during the past 20 years it has chosen a readily recognizable layout for its Type 23 frigate. This conservatism is not the result of a wilful disregard for changes being made elsewhere in the marine world but arises from the particular requirements of a warship's bridge and considerable differences in manning. The most significant changes to layout, in recent years, have been the siting of the quartermaster on the bridge, the introduction of the versatile console system (vcs) of instrument display, the provision of engine controls at the quartermaster's console and the siting of a radar display at the bridge front.

Increasing the stability and reliability of navigation for mobile objects of different classes is becoming increasingly significant. Satellite navigation systems have a fundamental defect: a vulnerability to hacking and spoofing. Observation of the horizon line is significant for two applications. The first is stellar inertial navigation systems. In this case, the horizon line can be used for local vertical estimation. Errors in local vertical estimation directly affect coordinate errors. The second is correlation-extremal navigation based on the observed horizon line shape (when islands or continents are observed from aerial vehicles). In both cases, instability of the horizon line produces navigation errors. A measurement procedure for horizon line position estimation was proposed and realised. Around-the-clock horizon line shooting was undertaken in 2013. Processing of the results shows a horizon line direction instability of about 5–7 angular minutes during the day time.

When we started surveying Megalithic sites in Britain we used a cloth tape, but after some years it was realized that it was necessary to be more precise and now we use a steel tape for the important sites. Similarly with astronomy; at first we considered it sufficiently accurate to work to ¼° but now we know that it is advisable to work always to within a minute of arc. This is because we have found out that the erectors of the stones sometimes used distant foresights, either artificial or natural, and by using these they could get an accuracy of better than a minute. The method of observing was for the operator to watch the edge of the celestial body grazing a foresight or running down the edge of a hill. He moved sideways until he got exact coincidence and then marked the position. This first came to our attention when we measured up the site at Ballochroy on the west side of Kintyre.

This study of Columbus' navigation is unique because it was written by an historian who is also a trained and experienced professional global (and ocean) navigator, rather than an academic historian with only superficial knowledge of the science of navigation as practiced by Columbus and other early navigators. The study is also unique in that as an American historian author disagrees with his colleagues in the USA who present the “politically correct” view of Columbus as an unskilled entrepreneur who obtained his limited knowledge of navigation as a crew member or passenger on Portuguese voyages, rather than as one of the most skilled and experienced of the cadre of respected Genoese captains and navigators used by kings throughout Europe to perform their maritime enterprises.

The name of John Dee (1527–1608) is one which every navigator, whether seaman or airman, has good cause to respect. For he was the first to try to teach unscholarly English sailors the use of the spherical triangle to find the distance and direction of some desired haven on the globe. Nor was that his only contribution to nautical science. Yet historians have treated him slightingly, dubbing him astrologer and alchemist, by which words they understand ‘charlatan’. Consequently the popular picture of him is of a servile, ignoble figure, eager to dupe the first Elizabeth and her courtiers. The acclaimed mathematician, and the ever-ready instructor are forgotten. It is true, of course, that Dee cast horoscopes, and that he hoped to find the formula for transmuting the baser metals into gold. It is true, besides, that in middle age he took to crystal-gazing, believing that he conversed with angelic spirits. Hence when in 1583 he went abroad at the invitation of the Polish Prince Lasky, a mob broke into his house at Mortlake and wrecked his library, which contained over 4000 books and manuscripts, besides scientific instruments. But by this date his work on navigation had come to an end. Yet his simple account of his meeting with the medium Edward Kelly (who was indeed a cheat) reveals him as a sincere man. Kelly at once asked to see what feats he could perform, but, says Dee, ‘I truly excused myself therein, as not in ye vulgarly accounted magic either studied or exercised. But… I brought forth to him my stone in ye frame … and said to. him that I was credibly informed that to it, after a sort, were answerable aliqui boni Angeli—certain good Angels.’ We should perhaps echo, therefore, the judgment of Disraeli—Dee's imagination often predominated over his science—but science he had.

As a result of the loss of the French passenger liner Antilles after grounding on an uncharted rock in the Grenadine Islands in the West Indies, on 8 January 1971, the owners of the ship filed a petition for limitation of or exoneration from liability in the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York. A number of claimants against the owners, chiefly passengers in the ship at the time of loss, entered the limitation proceedings and moved the New York Court to transfer the case to the District of Puerto Rico. After the case had been so transferred, several claimants filed direct action suits against the owners and their insurers; these suits were stayed pending the outcome of the limitation proceedings.

The Executive Secretary has referred to me two notes on this subject, one by M. S. Dixon and the other by Bruno Ortlepp. Although submitted independently, and at different times, they clearly relate not only to the. same technique, but also to the same set of observations.

Now much has been recently written on the determination of time, and thus of longitude, from observations of the Moon's altitude (for example, in this Journal, reference can be made to the notes by Francis Chichester, 19, 106, 1966; D. H. Sadler, 19, 107, 1966; J. J. Evans, 19, 392, 1966; and to the comments in the article by H.M. Nautical Almanac Office in 19, 133 and 1 $2, 1966) and it should be unnecessary toNrestate either the principle or the practical disadvantages of this method.

The least spherical distance between two points on the surface of a sphere is that along the minor arc of the great circle on which the two points lie. It is an easy matter to demonstrate this using a cord stretched between two points on a small globe; noting that the circle whose plane coincides with that of the cord contains the centre of the sphere and that it is, therefore, a great circle. It is a little more difficult to prove the fact analytically. The practice of sailing along the shortest route on an ocean passage—sometimes known as ‘orthodromic’ as opposed to rhumbline or ‘loxodromic’ sailing—would require the course to be continually changed (except, of course, in cases in which the rhumb-line and great circle arc coincide). This would clearly be impossible; the term ‘approximate great circle sailing’ is sometimes used to describe the techniques of following a great circle route as closely as practicable.

This paper compares the differences between the rhumbline courses and distances calculated by three methods: the classical formula, precise formula and by software contained in a typical GPS receiver. It concludes that, while the calculations made by the GPS receiver are generally more accurate than the classical method, navigators must use Tables of Latitude Parts to calculate rhumbline distances accurately.

In this paper some interesting properties of circular orbiting satellites' ground traces are pointed out. It will be shown how such properties are typical of some spherical and plane curves that look like flowers both in their name and shape. In addition, the choice of the best satellite constellations satisfying specific requirements is strongly facilitated by exploiting these properties.

The whole question of Polynesian navigation is highly controversial. Dr. David Lewis's paper ‘Ara Moana: Stars of the Sea Road’, in the July issue of this journal, prompts me relate the story of Kau Moala in somewhat greater detail and to assess his achievements and motives, largely from his own account of his voyages.

Kau Moala was a Tongan Chief renowned for his epic feat of navigation which probably took place in the years just before 1800. The details come to us from a young English castaway named William Mariner, who spent several years in Tonga and knew Kau Moala personally. When Mariner got back to England his experiences were compiled by J. Martin and published by John Murray, London, in 1817. The work is generally known as ‘Mariner's Tonga’, the full title being An Account of the Natives of the Tonga Islands. The story of Kau Moala's famous Odyssey is given on pages 307–322 of volume I of the second edition, published in 1818. Mariner gives the Chief's name as Cow Mooaly.

The story starts with Kau Moala going from Tonga to Fiji to engage in some warlike adventures to enhance his prestige, as many another Tongan Chief had done before, and as several did later. After two years of fun and mischief he decided to return home, and set out in his large double canoe.

The present work explores the link between navigational processes and the experience of place by considering the case of Evenki reindeer herders and hunters. Our analysis shows how the idiosyncratic wayfinding methods of the Evenki result in a unique experience of place – a case that elucidates the important question of the impact of navigational processes on environmental experience, and that advances the debate between mental map theory and practical mastery theory in anthropology. We defend that their wayfinding methods – involving a particular gait, path networks, and vast hydrological and toponymical knowledge – allow the Evenki to navigate without a need for integrating egocentric and allocentric frames of reference. As a result, the Evenki experience themselves as free individuals moving through an environment that is alive and rife with possibility. This analysis reveals the ways in which wayfinding processes relying predominantly on route knowledge – as opposed to survey knowledge – affect environmental experience. Alternative methods of wayfinding can be seen as a form of resistance to the uniformisation of landscapes, and as a way of embracing the heterogeneity of space.

The paper by Captain Cotter on Edward Johnson and the early history of ship's magnetism published in the September Journal sets the scene for the birth, in 1842, of the Compass Department of the Admiralty. Commander Fanning, a former Deputy Director of the Admiralty Compass Observatory, as it later became, here relates its subsequent history. The paper was presented to an Ordinary Meeting of the Institute held in London on 19 December 1979 with Dr J. F. Kemp in the Chair.

This paper traces the fortunes and development of a small department, one of the oldest Admiralty technical departments, from its early struggles with the magnetic compass, through many vicissitudes, economies, defence cuts, wars, intrigues, take-overs and even human frailties. We shall see how technical advances have led to ever more demanding requirements and I hope to show how, by meeting each new challenge, there has emerged the lively, forward-looking organization that today is still responsible for ‘everything that matters’ in navigation equipment, as it was at its inception in 1842.

The principal aim of this paper is to explore some of the wider social and economic implications of reductions in the real costs of sea transport as a result of the changes in maritime technology since about 1960. In this wider approach we have to consider shipping not as a series of mechanical links meeting with land transport at port interfaces, but as a system which has in recent years undergone processes of transformation, technically and organizationally, which have been of such fundamental significance as to affect several aspects of the spatial organization of society.

Major transport advances have had a considerable impact on society at various times in the past – the industrial revolution in Britain has equally well been described as the transport revolution; but it is always difficult at the time to discern the significance of the social and economic impact of such changes – even now there is some controversy as to whether the too early allocation of resources to railroads in America inhibited nineteenth century rates of economic growth in that country. But what have been common to all transport revolutions are the ways in which they have acted to converge time and space through increased speed of transit and reduced costs of overcoming distance. This in turn has affected perceptions of the value of places, the accessibility of resources and markets, and has influenced decisions relating to the location of mining, agricultural, and industrial activities.

H.M.S. Challenger is one of Her Majesty's surveying vessels. She is a ship of 1140 tons and carries a complement of 96 officers and men. Built in 1931, she is named after her illustrious predecessor in which the wellknown world oceanographic cruise was made in the years 1872–6. This expedition brought back a great wealth of chemical and physical data, and a huge collection of plants and animals from the oceans. These were checked and analysed and eventually, under the guidance of Sir John Murray, who had been a scientist on board, the results were published in fifty folio volumes known as the Challenger Reports. These reports still form, the starting point for the study of the oceans and marine life.

This paper formed the 1988 Anderson Memorial Lecture, and was presented to the Boscombe Down Branch on 17 March.

Wing Commander Anderson, in addition to his many distinctions connected with our Institute (a Founder Member, President, Gold Medallist, Honorary Member and frequent office holder) was above all an indefatigable worker for the science and artistry of navigation, which he regarded as a basic activity of all mankind. In 1939 he was headmaster of a school and by 1945 had become one of the most outstanding operational navigators in the Royal Air Force. In that year he was chosen as navigator of the research aircraft, Aries I, for those epic flights over the North geographic and magnetic poles, investigating compass performance in high latitudes.

It is over 10 years since this ill-fated Fastnet Race claimed the lives of fifteen yachtsmen and the total loss of five yachts. A total of twenty-four crews abandoned their yachts and in all, 136 people were saved by being winched into helicopters and taken on board merchant and naval ships as well as other yachts. Some eighteen yachts needed the assistance of lifeboats because they had lost their rudders.

This paper, by the Assistant Chief Electro-dynamic Engineer of the British Aircraft Corporation, was originally presented at the Annual General Technical Meeting of the Guild of Air Pilots and Navigators in September 1976.

This paper discusses a programme being carried out jointly by the British Aircraft Corporation and Hawker Siddeley Aviation into the design of flight decks for civil transport aircraft scheduled to enter service in the 1980s. The flight decks of today have evolved as a result of experience gained since manned flight began; it would be foolhardy to ignore this background and in applying new technology care must be exercised in preserving, as far as possible, conventions and practices which have long been established.