Resource: “Longitude” screencaps – the second batch (278)

17 May, 2008 at 11:09 pm Leave a comment

The second batch of “Longitude” screencaps with comments. Tons of interesting information, costume details and, hey, who would have guessed it, even more cute red-haired kids (though not as cute as wee William) and dashing officers in uniform!

This batch is a resource for: children, children clothes, ships, decks, life aboard, punishments, clocks, clocks, clocks and then some more clocks, royal navy uniforms second half of the 18th century, jamaica, clerics, everyday life, various workshops, fashion, admiralty, board of longitude, george III. and more. If there’s a picture you’d like to see in a higher resolution, please yell.

We left our heroes musing the importance of maritime chronometres; now let’s move forward a acouple of years…

Remember Mr. Campbell? He’s a lieutenant now, and quite a dashing one, if I may say so.

Blue breeches – finally!

Lieutenant Campbell has a terrible experience behind him. Most of his crew (including the two ship boys we’ve seen in the previous batch of screencaps) died of scurvy because the navigation had, once again, not been accurate enough and they’d ended up on a place full of rocks but without any provisions. He describes in every detail what it’s like to die of scurvy.

He never wants to see such a disaster again, and promises Mr. Harrison every possible support with his chronometre.

The Board of Longitude – now with additional Lord Sandwich!

“Who is this Davy Jones you talk of?”

Now wait a second… if Mr. Campbell and Mr. Harrison got older, how about wee William?
He’s a young man now – a young man slightly miffed with the Board of Longitude, to say the least.

Ah, here’s the competition! Reverend Nevil Maskelyne! He believes in navigation by complicated tables based on the lunar distance method – unfortunately, his calculations take about 9 hrs, in which the ship has already changed her position significantly. Means: the lunar distance method worked about as reliable for navigation as the rhythm method for birth control. BUT: “God gave us the moon so he wants us to calculate based on what he gave us and yadda yadda religious babbling yadda yadda how dare a carpenter doubt us yadda yadda and my head is shiny, so nyah!”

“I’m right. There can’t be a doubt about it. Sure, sure, there are ships getting lost and hundreds of people dying but I am right. I say so, God says so, the Board of Longitude, which consists by now almost exclusively of clerics like myself says so as well, so I’m right. Screw Harrison!”

“In your dreams! Oh Lord, let it rain brain…”

Lord Sandwich, surrounded by well-fed and ugly-wigged members of the cleric.

The chronometre is still too large. Mr. Harrison, William and an assistant work on a smaller, more pratical version – a bit like an oversized pocket watch.

A masterpiece…

… and an artwork. Just look at this!

William doesn’t trust the board. They’ve refused them the award for their achievements – £ 20’000 – for years, always finding new tricks and obstacles.

Mr. Campell is now captain and not quite so dashing anymore.

Mr. Maskelyne is very sure of himself and the prospect that he’ll win the award.

His optimism is not shared by those present.

One tries to stay civil with Nevil.

“If there was a desk, I’d hit my head on it.” “He’s looking at me funny…”

“Good grief, you are right!”

The Board of Longitudepoodles is now firmly in the hand of the church.

“What are these people smoking?” “I don’t know. But it stinks.”

Lord Sandwich admires the work of Mr. Harrison.

He encourages the father/son team to continue their work – this is the future.

The new chronometre is finished, and once again, it has to be tested. Mr. Maskelyne is on his way to test his lunar method, and now Mr. Harrison has to start his own journey. He decides to send William in his place – he has no desire to go to sea again, and William loves the sea.

“Waitwaitwait – me? On a ship? Alone? Certainly you must be joking!”

“No test, no money.”

Some time later… this is a no-nonsense captain, tough as nails and ruling with an iron fist. However, he’s also fair and willing to give William a chance.

And what would be better suited to entertain a sensitive passenger than a bit of a flogging?

He begs to differ.

The ship’s running out of beer – the men have to drink water, so the two men punished tried to sell booze to the crew.

“Oy, Mr. Harrison! No chickening out here! Everybody has to be present, that includes you, or we have to repeat the show!”

Luckily for William, there’s once again a dashing, sympathetic lieutenant at hand to take care of him. The navy really seems to have a weak spot for red-heads…

“What’s so terrible about drinking water, anyway?” “I’ll show you…”

“Hm. Looks… alive.”

“Uaaaahewwwyuck! I never thought slimy, yellowish muddy water with algae and maggots would taste this awful!”

Sailing on in the hope of reaching land soon…

The daily check of the chronometre by the witnesses.

“So, we are here. If we go there, we will find water.”

“Anybody disagreeing here?”

“Yes, I disagree. I disagree completely. We’re not there, we are THERE, and if we go there, we’ll be lost and in devil’s kitchen. So, if you follow my advice, we’ll find land sooner and the risk that the crew will throw us over board is smaller. Deal?”

“What makes you think that the *crew* would throw you overboard…?”

“Uh uh. My compliments to the captain, he should get his arse here very quickly, or we’re going to have a situation…”

“Right, right, no hurry, here I am. Mmmmm, yummy… see? Yellowish muddy water with algae and maggots is LOVELY! Wish I could have it all the time!”


“No! Not at all! Lovely water! Yummy! Best water we ever had, yes, Sir, really!”

With the prospect of a mutiny, William recalculates the ship’s position. I can’t remember who asked me about pencils, but here is one.

The captain has, despite his doubts, decided to follow William’s advice. If they find land now, William is right.

No land so far, but a rear-view on William’s readjustable breeches.

“Now what do we have there…”

“Is it a bird? Is it a cloud? Or is it…”

YES! LAND! William’s the hero of the day!

“Looks like I owe you an apology, Mr. Harrison!”

“Welcome to Jaimaica! I’m the governor, and I like your hat!”

“Unfortunately, you can’t return home after you’ve finished your tests. Once agian we have some war or other. But it’s a nice place here, enjoy the next few months.”

Such bad news has to be drowned with rum. And what better place for that than the local tavern? The gentlemen catch the eye of a very beautiful lady.

“She wants to know who of you the lucky bastard is who will win £ 20’000 pounds.”

“I want to go home and I’m not interested!”

“Very well then – hey! I AM the lucky bastard, ol’ ginger here only followed us on the street.”

“Well, that leaves just the two of us…” “You won’t hear me complain…”

“Two other lucky bastards. Their ship captured a Spanish frigate and each of them made £200 in prize money. They’re sailing under an Irish captain and will return home soon.” “Wait a second – HOME? BRING ME THAT CAPTAIN!”

Here we go. Oh, look, birds!

“So you’re the crazy bugger with the chronometre?”

Spanish prisoners of war.

“Buenos dias, senor!”

“Right, you can sail with us. But be on time, we’re not waiting for anybody!”

Time to get to work then, right in the middle of the amazing landscape.

Assisted by the lieutenant, of course.

“According to my calculations, we’re in Jamaica.” “Darn it, you are good!”

The 18th century messenger bag.

Quick, quick, to the Williammobile!

Let’s speed things up a bit…

“Godspeed, and don’t forget to write!”

“I shan’t! And you stay out of the taverns!”

“Hey, I’m Irish, what can I say, I like red-heads. Fancy a drink?”

“Good thing you’re doing there. Now have a drink like a good man.”

The pleasant company made William forget that there’s a war. Of course they meet some enemy, there’s a bit of fighting and guns are fired.


“Bastards! Ejits! Bollix!”

It’s raining, the ship has a hole in her hull and things are looking bleak…

Pump, pump, pump…

Uh uh… looks like we’re going down…

“Mr. Harrison, I’m the McGyver of the seven seas. All I need is sail and two men who can swing to fix this. I wouldn’t mind some gaffatape as well, but seeing that it’s not invited yet….”

The sail covers the hole in the hull, and the suction effect closes the hole. Clever, eh?

The test has been a full success. Harrison & Son are happy, to say the least.

One could even say: smug.

William’s notes are carefully studied (means: leafed through and then put aside).

Once again – surprise, surprise – the board is not satisfied. Mr. Harrison is losing his patience and temper.

————– censored for rude content ——————–

“Another test… yadda yadda… Mr. Maskelyne very promising and successful… yadda yadda…”

Despite the ridiculous demands of the board, William convinces his father to return.

“Fine, fine. We do what you morons want.”

Lord Sandwich, the last bastion of sanity.

“Bitch, moan, whine, yammer, snarl, grumble, hiss…”

Meanwhile, Mr. Maskelyne’s secret weapon is arriving…

“What… the… f…?!”

“I’m Mr. Maskelyne obsterician… oh, joke! No! This is THE LUNAR CHAIR!”
“More like lunatic chair, mate…”

“So we send them both to Jamaica, at the same time.”

“But not on the same boat. No way.”

“Aw darn it, that would have been fun. Sea cruises are so romantic, and – what on earth is that?!”

“Hehehe… now that’s a sight…”

“Oh! I can see the sky! Or I could if there were no clouds!”

“At least I can work while sitting…”

The Mighty Chair Of Wisdom is transported to the ship.

All shall fear it and dispair…

We are sailing, we are sailing, we are sailing, across the seaaaaaa…

The daily check by the witnesses.

A toast is in order!

Back in Jamaica.

“Oh dear, why did I decide to work for Maskelyne… he’s telling everybody on the island that he’s won the award, and now he’s chased by all three unmarried ladies here!”

“Wishful thinking.”

“That’s all? You just look at the clock? Maskelyne takes HOURS to make his calculations!”

Later, at the governor’s house…

“Very kind of you to invite me, Sir. My apologies, I got a bit of meat stuck in my teeth.”

“No need to apologise. Happens to me all the time. And I don’t even HAVE teeth anymore.”

*is bored*

“Oh, and you are, like, totally happy to work for Mr. Maskelyne, aren’t you? Wow, squee, so cool! *giggle*”


“He’s, like, the brilliantest of all brilliant, and he’s doing so interesting things and stuff, squee?”


“I’m the founder of the Nevil Maskelyne fanclub, you know. He’s like, so handsome!”


“Uh uh uh…”

“Mr. Maskelyne has NOT won the award yet, Missy. And Mr. Harrison is not his assitant, but his competitor.”

“In other words: foot-mouth.”

“Oh dear. Did I just make a fool out of myself?” “Yes. Now shut up and eat.”

Chez Maskelyne. One bedroom, no heating, but air condition.

“How very good to see you again, my dear William.”


“So you have won the award, yes?”

“But no, this must be only a terrible, terrible misunderstanding! Why, I’d never…”

“Sure you would, you git! Grrrrrrr, just in case I haven’t said that yet!”

“Stop the flirting, we have work to do.”

“You… you are not a friend of that captain, are you? He’s sarcastic and not very friendly…”
“Two good reasons to like him.”

“This… this… thingy… it’s not working properly…”

“Hissy fit! Foot stomping! Tantrum! Whining! FLOUNCE!”

“Oh for crying out loud…”

“And that one’s chased by three ladies?” “Looks like he’s not interested…” “Hehehe… I get it…”

Strolling on the beach… sunset… the sound of the sea in the background… eh – yes.

“We could hold hands…” “No, we can’t. This is the 18th century, remember?” “Pity.”

“Good you’re back, son. Your father is very ill.”

“I did all I could, but things are not looking well.”

“All he could? Means nothing. Come on, dad, you can’t give up yet. All went well! Now they HAVE to give you the award!”

“Which part of I AM DYING is it that you don’t get, son?” “I refuse to believe it. First you have to get the reward for your hard work.”

“And if they don’t give it to you, I’ll kielhaul the whole lot!”

“Just look at them, the gits. And Maskelyne is now Astronomer Royal, imagine!”
“Astronomer Royal? Why, is he mooning at the king now?”

“Bla bla bla… impressive… yadda yadda…”

“… results are convincing bla bla bla… which we hate to admit…”

“… but yes, ok, fine, good, it’s ok, you’ve done it.”

“What? You mean – WHAT?”



“Wait a moment, we are the Board of Longitude, consisting of jealous gits and therefore came up with new ways to deprive your father of his award.”

“Why am I not surprised.” “First, we want to see him here, if he doesn’t come, no awards.”
“He’s old! He’s sick!”
“And that’s our problem – how?”

“We want this and that and a pony.”

“You pitiful lot.”

“What can I say – I deal bad with rejection and know how to hold a grudge.”

“So do I.”

“This is really only in your best interest, trust me.”

“I’m really sorry about this all. No, really. Cross my heart and secret handshake.”
“Bugger off already, will you?”



“The usual.”
“Oh shite.”

Despite his illness, Mr. Harrison follows the wishes of the board. William is not amused, nor is Captain Campbell, nor anybody else with some degree of decency.

“What? Even MORE requirements? This is impossible! For fifty years you withould my award!”

William is devastated and angry upon such injustice.

Last person he needs to see now.

Maskelyne tries to convince William to fulfil the requirements of the board. Not surprisingly, William doesn’t trust him.

He finally agrees to return to the room.

Somebody’s having regrets and a bad conscience there…

William listens to the idiotic demands of the board, which they make up as they go.

Mr. Harrison feels better. He and William start to work on a second clock.

William tells his father that the clocks are like his siblings; he has grown up with them, but feels that he never managed to make his father love him as much as he loved his clocks.

Maskelyne comes to pick up one of the clocks to bring it to Greenwich. Looking out of the window, William sees that Maskelyne chose a cart. Means: he wants the clock to be destroyed on the way to Greenwich.

“But of course I know how to handle clocks!”
“Then transport it by bark, or I WILL BARK, and BITE!”

“How can anybody be so suspicious!”

“I’m an expert. And a scientist. I am. So nyah.”

“My experience tells me that we need a blacksmith to transport this clock.”
“And my experience tells me that you can’t tell your arse from your ellbow!”

“It’s easy, see? I can handle it, no problem!”

“Good grief…”


“That’s… not serious.”

“What the ever bleeding fuck!”

When all else fails, have a sandwich.

His lordship is playing.


William is not good at playing poker, nor are the ladies. He chooses not to participate (rats!)

“It’s very easy: if they don’t play fair, we go to the King! Sure you don’t want to play?”

“It’s very informal. Just like the King.”

“It’s Lord Sandwich! Hide the ship!”

“Ehm… yes, his majesty is a very dedicated father of many red-haired children…”

“Hellohellohello! Now tell me, where is bow and where is stern?”


Princess and princes aboard their ship, arguing where is what. Their father hasn’t got a clue, either.

“So have you been on a ship?”

The king might be a bit – weird, but very friendly, understanding, interested and – talkative.

“Tests? Tests? Very well, we’ll give them test. By Jove! I’ll do those tests myself!”

“Do we need to get worried now…?”

“Now look, that’s interesting. It’s electricity.”
“What’s its purpose?”
“Purpose? It’s got no purpose, but you must admit it’s entertaining!”

“Father! Father! We sank Lord Sandwich!”

“William, we have a problem. Your clock is running, alright – but BACKWARDS!”

General confusion.

“Something must influence the clock – but what?”

“Maybe these two neat magnets that we have stored under it….?”

“Well then, that’s fixed. I’m good, admit it!”

“Hell, yeah!”

“Now we have all the data, off we go to the board!”

“Hm…. where did I leave my mobile…”

“Hey guys, wait for me! I love seeing confused reverends!”

“Mission accomplished. They can possibly not doubt a test that has been conducted by the king himself!”

“You are new in Britain, aren’t you…”

“You sort of have won the award then again not and there are reasons and circumstances and maybe if you’d give Mr. Maskelyne half of the money and all things considered…”

“You’re a bunch of lying, cheating morons, your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!”

“When he’s right, he’s right.”

After 51 years, the board still didn’t give Mr. Harrison his reward. Mr. Maskelyne didn’t get it, either, but do not fear, this tale has a happy ending!

“This is the parliament – they will give you what you deserve.”
“You’re new to politics, aren’t you….”

“… and so I say it’s a disgrace and a joke and a shame and give that man his money already!”

“I think he’s on your side.”
“Could be.”

“I demand that Mr Harrison will receive £ 20’000 pounds for his work, because it’s a) great, b) historic and c) very useful for our navy. In future, we’ll rule the waves and kick major French butt.”

“Looks good for you, Mr. Harrison.”

“£ 20’000 for John Harrison, I say! What say you?”


“Father! You’ve done it! FINALLY!” *is happy*

*is happy, too*

Phew. That’s all so far. Again, I can really recommend the movie. The switches between the 1930s/40s and the 18th centuries are done with great skill, and while I haven’t made any screencaps of the “modern” scenes with Jeremy Irons, I can assure you that they fit in perfectly. “Longitude” is a “must have”, and those of us who write historical fiction set in the AOS will find that we can profit a lot from this movie. Fixing a hole in the hull with a sail was certainly something I’d never thought of myself!


Entry filed under: 18th century, movies, resource, royal navy, ships. Tags: , , , , .

Resource: “Longitude” screencaps (first batch – 135) Looking for news about Damian O’Hare and Jack Davenport and RNotC fandom?

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