Bob Cleek

Welcome! It appears you have the mind set which is the prerequisite for success, success being the enjoyment of the process of the incremental acquisition of skill and experience. Rome wasn't built in a day and neither are good ship models. It all begins when you start. If one commits themselves to doing the common things uncommonly well, one step at a time, you'll do just fine.

Binnacle test on the model.   This was fun to build.  I have plenty of construction photos which I will soon upload as well.  A big Thank You to David Antscherl who was kind enough to paint the friezes for the binnacle.   More to follow soon.   But breaking for dinner now.
 



 
 
 

Yes, the English foot and the Imperial foot are the same length at  304.8 millimeters.Not my knowledge on this, but Wikipedia provides metric equivalent tables for pre-1826 English measurements and post-1826 Imperial measurements at:
 
English units: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_units
 
Imperial units: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imperial_units
 
 
 

The nomenclature here is really confusing. First, the applicable period  has to be defined.
 
A hole attached to or worked into a sail or other piece of canvas to attach a line is called a "cringle."
 
In earliest times, cringles were made by sewing a rope "grommet" around the hole in the canvas. A rope grommet is made up of a single strand of unlayed rope laid around itself to produce a three-strand circle with only two loose ends worked back into the circle.
 

 
In later times, a metal ring might replace the rope grommet.
 
The cringle could be worked into the canvas without any additional reinforcement...
 

 
or additional secondary cringles could be added in order to spread the forces over a wider area of the weaker canvas and, later still, a metal grommet  with hammered flared edges might be inserted in the finished cringle to provide extra strength and chafe protection.
 

 
Much later, I'd expect beginning sometime in the 19th Century, but I'm just guessing, harder manufactured metal grommets were used. These required less handwork for the sailmaker to install. Later still, so-called "English grommets,' two piece grommets installed with a patent press, were also used, as in the secondary holes in the below picture.
 

 

 

 
Modernly, synthetic webbing machine-stitched into the canvas which secures a metal ring has become a simple approach, as are sophisticated grommets pressed into place with high-compression equipment.
 

 
 

 
 
So, the period of the model sail will dictate whether the cringle is made with a rope grommet or an metal one. At smaller scales, a dark-colored dot with the line passed through with thread on a needle should be enough.
 
 
 
 
 

This is true, however, it seems problems often arise when researching the identity of vessels by comparison of unidentified contemporary models with plans, customs office registrations, and other contemporary documentation. Differences of several feet in overall length, depth, and breadth are quite common.

For those bent on accuracy, don't forget that a "foot" varies from time to time, nation to nation, and trade to trade, in too many ways to count. I believe that the confusion over various reported measurements of old ships is not infrequently the result of different measurement standards. Even different cities had different "feet." Before the metric standardization, a foot in Belgium could be no less than one of eleven different "feet," depending on the town: Ypers was 273.9 mm, Bruges was 274.3 mm, Brussels was 275.75, Antwerp was 286.8, and so on.  In Venice a foot was 347.73 mm. Twenty-one different "feet" were used in Germany and five in France. Similarly, there were nine different Dutch feet depending on the town and a foot was 296.9 mm in Sweden and 313.75 in Norway.  Adding up the differences over the length of a sizeable vessel can result in significant differences overall between differing foot-standards. There's quite an extensive list of Imperial to metric local and historical equivalents at: Foot (unit) - Wikipedia
 
One of the most maddening exercises I've encountered in marine plans were the set of 1936 English builder's plans for a famous yacht which were drawn to a scale of 1" to 12.5". It took some detective work to unravel why a respected naval architect would use a scale nobody'd  ever heard of before. It turned out the plans were drawn for use by a Swedish yard contracted to build the vessel. By drawing to a 1"=12.5" scale, the yard could use all of its Swedish measuring tools when working with the plans!  

For those bent on accuracy, don't forget that a "foot" varies from time to time, nation to nation, and trade to trade, in too many ways to count. I believe that the confusion over various reported measurements of old ships is not infrequently the result of different measurement standards. Even different cities had different "feet." Before the metric standardization, a foot in Belgium could be no less than one of eleven different "feet," depending on the town: Ypers was 273.9 mm, Bruges was 274.3 mm, Brussels was 275.75, Antwerp was 286.8, and so on.  In Venice a foot was 347.73 mm. Twenty-one different "feet" were used in Germany and five in France. Similarly, there were nine different Dutch feet depending on the town and a foot was 296.9 mm in Sweden and 313.75 in Norway.  Adding up the differences over the length of a sizeable vessel can result in significant differences overall between differing foot-standards. There's quite an extensive list of Imperial to metric local and historical equivalents at: Foot (unit) - Wikipedia
 
One of the most maddening exercises I've encountered in marine plans were the set of 1936 English builder's plans for a famous yacht which were drawn to a scale of 1" to 12.5". It took some detective work to unravel why a respected naval architect would use a scale nobody'd  ever heard of before. It turned out the plans were drawn for use by a Swedish yard contracted to build the vessel. By drawing to a 1"=12.5" scale, the yard could use all of its Swedish measuring tools when working with the plans!  

For those bent on accuracy, don't forget that a "foot" varies from time to time, nation to nation, and trade to trade, in too many ways to count. I believe that the confusion over various reported measurements of old ships is not infrequently the result of different measurement standards. Even different cities had different "feet." Before the metric standardization, a foot in Belgium could be no less than one of eleven different "feet," depending on the town: Ypers was 273.9 mm, Bruges was 274.3 mm, Brussels was 275.75, Antwerp was 286.8, and so on.  In Venice a foot was 347.73 mm. Twenty-one different "feet" were used in Germany and five in France. Similarly, there were nine different Dutch feet depending on the town and a foot was 296.9 mm in Sweden and 313.75 in Norway.  Adding up the differences over the length of a sizeable vessel can result in significant differences overall between differing foot-standards. There's quite an extensive list of Imperial to metric local and historical equivalents at: Foot (unit) - Wikipedia
 
One of the most maddening exercises I've encountered in marine plans were the set of 1936 English builder's plans for a famous yacht which were drawn to a scale of 1" to 12.5". It took some detective work to unravel why a respected naval architect would use a scale nobody'd  ever heard of before. It turned out the plans were drawn for use by a Swedish yard contracted to build the vessel. By drawing to a 1"=12.5" scale, the yard could use all of its Swedish measuring tools when working with the plans!  

For those bent on accuracy, don't forget that a "foot" varies from time to time, nation to nation, and trade to trade, in too many ways to count. I believe that the confusion over various reported measurements of old ships is not infrequently the result of different measurement standards. Even different cities had different "feet." Before the metric standardization, a foot in Belgium could be no less than one of eleven different "feet," depending on the town: Ypers was 273.9 mm, Bruges was 274.3 mm, Brussels was 275.75, Antwerp was 286.8, and so on.  In Venice a foot was 347.73 mm. Twenty-one different "feet" were used in Germany and five in France. Similarly, there were nine different Dutch feet depending on the town and a foot was 296.9 mm in Sweden and 313.75 in Norway.  Adding up the differences over the length of a sizeable vessel can result in significant differences overall between differing foot-standards. There's quite an extensive list of Imperial to metric local and historical equivalents at: Foot (unit) - Wikipedia
 
One of the most maddening exercises I've encountered in marine plans were the set of 1936 English builder's plans for a famous yacht which were drawn to a scale of 1" to 12.5". It took some detective work to unravel why a respected naval architect would use a scale nobody'd  ever heard of before. It turned out the plans were drawn for use by a Swedish yard contracted to build the vessel. By drawing to a 1"=12.5" scale, the yard could use all of its Swedish measuring tools when working with the plans!  

For those bent on accuracy, don't forget that a "foot" varies from time to time, nation to nation, and trade to trade, in too many ways to count. I believe that the confusion over various reported measurements of old ships is not infrequently the result of different measurement standards. Even different cities had different "feet." Before the metric standardization, a foot in Belgium could be no less than one of eleven different "feet," depending on the town: Ypers was 273.9 mm, Bruges was 274.3 mm, Brussels was 275.75, Antwerp was 286.8, and so on.  In Venice a foot was 347.73 mm. Twenty-one different "feet" were used in Germany and five in France. Similarly, there were nine different Dutch feet depending on the town and a foot was 296.9 mm in Sweden and 313.75 in Norway.  Adding up the differences over the length of a sizeable vessel can result in significant differences overall between differing foot-standards. There's quite an extensive list of Imperial to metric local and historical equivalents at: Foot (unit) - Wikipedia
 
One of the most maddening exercises I've encountered in marine plans were the set of 1936 English builder's plans for a famous yacht which were drawn to a scale of 1" to 12.5". It took some detective work to unravel why a respected naval architect would use a scale nobody'd  ever heard of before. It turned out the plans were drawn for use by a Swedish yard contracted to build the vessel. By drawing to a 1"=12.5" scale, the yard could use all of its Swedish measuring tools when working with the plans!  

The nomenclature here is really confusing. First, the applicable period  has to be defined.
 
A hole attached to or worked into a sail or other piece of canvas to attach a line is called a "cringle."
 
In earliest times, cringles were made by sewing a rope "grommet" around the hole in the canvas. A rope grommet is made up of a single strand of unlayed rope laid around itself to produce a three-strand circle with only two loose ends worked back into the circle.
 

 
In later times, a metal ring might replace the rope grommet.
 
The cringle could be worked into the canvas without any additional reinforcement...
 

 
or additional secondary cringles could be added in order to spread the forces over a wider area of the weaker canvas and, later still, a metal grommet  with hammered flared edges might be inserted in the finished cringle to provide extra strength and chafe protection.
 

 
Much later, I'd expect beginning sometime in the 19th Century, but I'm just guessing, harder manufactured metal grommets were used. These required less handwork for the sailmaker to install. Later still, so-called "English grommets,' two piece grommets installed with a patent press, were also used, as in the secondary holes in the below picture.
 

 

 

 
Modernly, synthetic webbing machine-stitched into the canvas which secures a metal ring has become a simple approach, as are sophisticated grommets pressed into place with high-compression equipment.
 

 
 

 
 
So, the period of the model sail will dictate whether the cringle is made with a rope grommet or an metal one. At smaller scales, a dark-colored dot with the line passed through with thread on a needle should be enough.
 
 
 
 
 

This forum is owned by the Nautical Research Guild.  The Guild’s motto is Advancing Ship Modeling Through Research.  As a long-standing (46 years) member of the Guild I completely endorse the Guild’s mission to encourage construction of quality models.
 
During the last few years, the quality of kits available to model builders has improved considerably.  Old line companies have redesigned their offerings and several new companies have emerged, and hopefully they will be supported by kit builders.  In my opinion, the commercial ship model business is like any other business. Competition improves the product.  Advertising (sponsorship) in this forum is no substitute for providing less than top quality.
 
Roger
 
 

Today, I attended an all-day seminar on 'exchange in experience in restoration' organised by the Musée de la Marine, the Musée des Arts et Metiers, and the French Air and Space Museum near Le Bourget (the old Parisian airport), where the naval museum has its workshops, archives and storage facilities.
 
I was surprised to learn that they use dual finishes on woods and metals: first a varnish and then a wax. Microcristalline wax (e.g. the brand 'Renaissance Wax') seems to be their universal weapon. The varnish seals the wood, prevents the metals from tarnishing, and the wax is a sort of humidity repellent. 

Poly urethane is a plastic.  I used it on my Walnut stained Oak kitchen floor in KY.  It looked good and held up well.  It certainly has its fans here for use on a model.  If you like a plastic look on a model on a vessel from 100+ years ago,  it is worth a look. It is simple enough to use.
 
Should you be more traditionally oriented, a simple, low cost, forgiving material is shellac.  More coats more depth.  Too shiny, Scotch Brite, steel wool, or bronze wool will dull it.
A low cost way is
Lee Valley shellac flakes 1/4 lb  -  choice of 3 shades for how warm and aged you are going for.
a can of denatured alcohol
for light 10% is enough (10 g in 100 ml)  the medium can probably be 20% , and the dark maybe 30%. 
Rag or brush to apply.
If you double or triple bag the dry flakes and put them in a freezer they should store for years.  just make sure that they are RT before you open the stored flakes.
It comes pre-mixed (avoid the silly aerosol version)  just be aware that the shelf life is limited.
 
A rule that learned in organic chem is that a reaction rate doubles for every 10 degree C temp rise.   Going from 20 C  to  -10 /20 C   is a 4-8-16 times longer half life for a compound prone to oxidation.
 

The nomenclature here is really confusing. First, the applicable period  has to be defined.
 
A hole attached to or worked into a sail or other piece of canvas to attach a line is called a "cringle."
 
In earliest times, cringles were made by sewing a rope "grommet" around the hole in the canvas. A rope grommet is made up of a single strand of unlayed rope laid around itself to produce a three-strand circle with only two loose ends worked back into the circle.
 

 
In later times, a metal ring might replace the rope grommet.
 
The cringle could be worked into the canvas without any additional reinforcement...
 

 
or additional secondary cringles could be added in order to spread the forces over a wider area of the weaker canvas and, later still, a metal grommet  with hammered flared edges might be inserted in the finished cringle to provide extra strength and chafe protection.
 

 
Much later, I'd expect beginning sometime in the 19th Century, but I'm just guessing, harder manufactured metal grommets were used. These required less handwork for the sailmaker to install. Later still, so-called "English grommets,' two piece grommets installed with a patent press, were also used, as in the secondary holes in the below picture.
 

 

 

 
Modernly, synthetic webbing machine-stitched into the canvas which secures a metal ring has become a simple approach, as are sophisticated grommets pressed into place with high-compression equipment.
 

 
 

 
 
So, the period of the model sail will dictate whether the cringle is made with a rope grommet or an metal one. At smaller scales, a dark-colored dot with the line passed through with thread on a needle should be enough.
 
 
 
 
 

The nomenclature here is really confusing. First, the applicable period  has to be defined.
 
A hole attached to or worked into a sail or other piece of canvas to attach a line is called a "cringle."
 
In earliest times, cringles were made by sewing a rope "grommet" around the hole in the canvas. A rope grommet is made up of a single strand of unlayed rope laid around itself to produce a three-strand circle with only two loose ends worked back into the circle.
 

 
In later times, a metal ring might replace the rope grommet.
 
The cringle could be worked into the canvas without any additional reinforcement...
 

 
or additional secondary cringles could be added in order to spread the forces over a wider area of the weaker canvas and, later still, a metal grommet  with hammered flared edges might be inserted in the finished cringle to provide extra strength and chafe protection.
 

 
Much later, I'd expect beginning sometime in the 19th Century, but I'm just guessing, harder manufactured metal grommets were used. These required less handwork for the sailmaker to install. Later still, so-called "English grommets,' two piece grommets installed with a patent press, were also used, as in the secondary holes in the below picture.
 

 

 

 
Modernly, synthetic webbing machine-stitched into the canvas which secures a metal ring has become a simple approach, as are sophisticated grommets pressed into place with high-compression equipment.
 

 
 

 
 
So, the period of the model sail will dictate whether the cringle is made with a rope grommet or an metal one. At smaller scales, a dark-colored dot with the line passed through with thread on a needle should be enough.
 
 
 
 
 

I presume you are familiar with spiling plank for hull shapes. (See: 
 
Planking decks is done using the same principles as planking hulls, but, being as decks are more or less flat (discounting the deck shear and camber which at smaller model scales is usually so negligible as not to be a consideration,) it's actually easier. To plank a deck, however, there are several layouts. Primarily, the options are to 1) run the planks of equal width and parallel to the center line or 2) run the planks curved to the shape of the covering boards.  Then you have the options of 1) nibbing or hooking the plank ends at the covering boards (and king plank in one version)  to one another avoid pointed ends, which are to be avoided because of the difficulties they pose in caulking a tight seam. These options will be determined by the vessel you are building. Generally, curved planking dictated by the covering board curves is "fancier" and more labor intensive and would not generally be seen in larger vessels. You will have to research the planking method employed on the vessel you are modeling.  The plan you pictured is, on my screen at least, difficult to see in detail, but it appears that it is a "sprung" plank deck that generally follows the curve of the deck edge at the hull, but forward, where the curve is sharper, accommodates the plank ends by a notched covering board. In full-size practice, the deck planks would be straight and the entire plank bent (or in this case, "edge set") to the curve desired. In modeling scales, the deck planking can be "bent on the flat" with a plank bending iron or clothing steam iron, as in this video: 
 
Once the type of planking is determined, I find it easiest to draw a paper or card template of the deck (or each level of deck, as the case may be) and draw the covering boards, king planks and planks on the template and then trace the template to make patterns for the planks, etc. Generally, whether planking is laid straight or curved, the the planks are generally not tapered. In cases where tapering deck planks is done, they can be spiled in the same manner as hull planking and cut to shape. 
 
The use of a template also allows the deck framing to be drawn on the template so that the "schedule" of plank butts can be accurately represented on the model, making sure that butts fall on frames where there is some "meat" below to which they can be fastened. 
 
Particularly in smaller scales, some modelers find it convenient to use stiff card (or in larger scales even thin plywood) for the deck template and glue thin deck planks directly to the card (or plywood) template and then glue the entire "planked" section of deck to the model. It's a lot easier to work with thin "planks" and covering boards that can be cut to shape with a scissors or knife and glued to the deck template underlayment than to fiddle with scale thickness planks one at a time on the model.  Such "faux" deck planking may be gotten out by shaving long, thin, strips from the edge of a piece of suitable stock with a sharp, properly tuned hand plane. In this fashion, it's easy to produce long curled shavings of any length desired, limited only to the length of the stock you shave them from. These curled shavings can be placed in hot water for a few minutes and then, while still hot, uncurled and laid flat between a couple of flat surfaces (e.g. sheets of window glass) and they will cool and dry flat and uncurled, like veneer, suitable for cutting to shape as planking, covering boards, deck furniture trim, or what have you. The edges of the planks can be blackened with a pencil to simulate the seam stopping, if desired and the decking, once dry on the underlayment can be stained to the finish desired. For those who use "wipe on" finishes, it is far easier to obtain a good wiped-on finish on a flat, unobstructed deck built in this way before it's installed on the model.
 
But, as said, you have to ascertain how the planking was laid on the prototype, or may have been laid on the prototype if that is otherwise unknown, so you know what planking layout you will need to devise. It seems you have a plan which may have that information on it, so copying that deck plan will easily give you the template you need, particularly the covering board notching, and your deck frame spacing.

While quality model kits, as Roger describes them, serve to inspire and educate beginning builders and those who, for whatever reason, want a model a particular kit yields, "going over to the dark side" of scratch modeling is the inevitable outcome of one's developing modeling confidence, if not skill. 
 
You don't need to be a Passaro or Tosti to build from scratch. As Roger sagely notes, there is an unlimited supply of plans for just about any type of boat and they can often be had for "beer money," if not for free. Freeing one's self from bondage to the kit manufacturers opens the entire world of nautical subjects to the modeler who is thereby no longer bound to building models of ships that have been built hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Chapelle famously addressed this over fifty years ago (I think,): Nautical Research Guild - Article - Ship Models that Should Not be Built (thenrg.org)  and Nautical Research Guild - Article - Ship Models that Ought to be Built (thenrg.org).  
 
I think the question that should be asked by serious modelers more often than it seems to be is, "If, by some strange twist of fate, my model were to come to light two or three hundred years from now, would studying it tell people in that far distant future anything they didn't already know?" We don't have to build to the amazing levels of technical quality to which only a few are able to achieve, either. Some of the most academically valuable models we have today were actually quite crude, but they are all we have to see what ships of their times looked like. We are all capable of building "museum quality" models, if we just give them enough time!
 
 
 
Mataró – the oldest Museum Ship Model | Professional Model Making (wordpress.com)

It would seem that the Peanut6's question, which he titled an "education request," invited a comparison of pros and cons of the various options. As something of a "professional" yacht finisher myself once upon a time, I'm glad to hear that glbarlow's cabinet refinishers used something other than shellac or "satin" varnish, neither of which were the best option for the hard use kitchen cabinets endure. "Satin" varnish is best avoided altogether. It lacks UV filters and will degrade quickly in direct sunlight. It's often also difficult to keep the flattening agent evenly in suspension while applying it, resulting in an uneven flat/gloss level on the surface and the flattening paste (dust, essentially) obscures the wood below it. Clear "satin" finishes are made to mimic a real hand-rubbed finish and they do that poorly, at best. Shellac as a final finish on just about anything that will be handled is just wrong, other than on heirloom quality fine furniture, and then only when applied as "French polish," in which each shellac coat is hand-rubbed with oil, resulting in a finish that is a combination of oil and shellac.
 
A "satin" or "hand-rubbed" look finish is accomplished using a hard top quality clear gloss finish which is hand rubbed with pumice and rottenstone until the desired level of gloss or "satin" is attained. No coatings chemist has yet to produce a brushed or sprayed finish "out of the can" that equals a real hand-rubbed finish. The real hand-rubbed finish is like no other in both appearance and feel. It's clarity and smoothness is unlike anything else. When the nature of a hull lends itself to hand-rubbing, either to depict either a painted or bright (clear) finished surface at "scale viewing distance," a real hand-rubbed finish is unequaled for that application. 
 
If it makes the polyurethane fans feel any better, Hamburg-made Steinway pianos have been finished with a sprayed polyester finish for the last 30 years or so and have a deep high-gloss finish. New York Steinway pianos, an entirely different model with different tonal qualities, are finished with hand-rubbed lacquer and have a deep satin finish. Nobody knows fine finishes better than the Steinway company and even they find it useful to use two different coatings for different reasons to finish their pianos. You can be sure, though, that Steinway isn't using shellac or "wipe on poly" on any of its pianos!
 
For those wood finishing wonks, here's an interesting article on how Steinways are refinished: The Art of Refinishing a Piano | Steinway and Sons Piano Refinishing (chuppspianos.com)
 
 

Well, in the interests of full disclosure, I don't own any stock in Zinsser ("Bullseye Shellac") or Minwax (wipe on polyurethane,) but I'll add these two considerations to the discussion:
 
If, in some way that escapes my imagination, one botches applying a thin coat of shellac, the error can be easily corrected by diluting the shellac with denatured alcohol and wiping it off. On the other hand, if one botches a coat of wipe on polyurethane, you're going to be in a world of hurt trying to remove it from a model without risking doing some serious damage to the model.
 
For those in the rest of the world who are apparently less susceptible to the seductions of the advertising industry, Minwax's "wipe on poly" is nothing more than polyurethane varnish thinned with mineral spirits or the equivalent. In the US, it's sold with the thinner included for the same price as full-strength polyurethane varnish. Unless it doesn't bother you to pay pay full price for diluted polyurethane varnish, you'll be money ahead to thin it yourself to the consistency desired. Additionally, as wiping up the excess after the material has soaked into the wood surface guarantees a matt finish, I have no idea why Minwax sells "matt finish" version of the stuff. 
 
That said, polyurethane varnish is tough as nails and great stuff for bar tops and hardwood floors. 

What Jaager said. Shellac is relatively inexpensive. (I but the pint or quart cans, premixed and then thin with denatured alcohol as required.) Shellac can be applied by brush easily. Excess can be wiped off with a rag or paper towel, if you wish. It will soak into the wood without raising the wood grain (unlike water-based coatings.) Cleans up easily with denatured alcohol. It's also good for fixing knots in rigging, or holding rope coils in shape. (Move as desired as the alcohol dries and before the shellac hardens.) Shellac dries very quickly and is easily sanded or rubbed with bronze wood (steel wool leaves tiny bits that will rust eventually, leaving marks on the wood) or rottenstone or pumice. A single coat will dry to a matt finish. Additional coats will build up to a gloss. I use white shellac for everything. Amber or "orange" shellac will darken to a rich dark brown as successive coats are applied. 
 
Shellac can also be applied to paper and card stock, which will absorb it and become hard and stiff. It's useful for applying thin sheets of paper to flat surfaces, as well. 
 
Try it, you'll like it! It's been around for millennia and is proven to last forever. 

Good question. Real wooden masts and spars are first cut to a square cross-section, then octagonal, then sixteen sided before being rounded off. Some sections are left square so that other things (such as mast caps) attached to them can't skew around.

Hello,
 
Thank you for your compliments. The video of La Fleur de Lis is a kind of synthesis of this monograph in which I tried to describe the galleys of the late 17th century as well as possible. Nearly fifteen years of research and study (interrupted, of course, by other monographs) have made it possible to present these ships that are so particular and ultimately endearing when one is interested in them. 
 
 
GD

I'll buy that. Untarred hemp rope is still made. I've handled some hemp buds that were pretty sticky, too.   
 
I believe, however, that we are in agreement, actually. As you say, "This rope is called "white rope" in opposition to the tarred rope which is dark. This white rope is obviously not white but straw colored as it has been said." It's a linguistic difference, I think. The hemp used to make marine rope was generally run through a bath of thinned pine tar before it was laid up on the rope walk. This resulted in its color being exactly as you describe, "straw colored." Hemp rope that is used for standing rigging is coated with thick pine tar in use to preserve it. This tar coating is reapplied about every six months and soon results in a very dark, virtually black, color. So, to put a finer point on it, the fibers are run through a thinned hot tar bath before the rope is made and this results in the "straw colored" rope. When that straw colored rope, which was called "white rope" by the French, was tarred by applying thick tar to it, it became "dark rope."
 
Hemp rope that has not been treated with pine tar before being laid up looks white, like this:
 

In France but I imagine also in the other countries of Europe and I specify well in the 17th and 18th century, it is the basic thread, taken out of the winding-machine of the spinning mill which is tarred (with hot pine tar) before before the confection of the final rope. It thus presents a brown-red color. Only one thread is not tarred in the final rope, it allows to recognize the ropes belonging to the king.
The threads of the white rope are not treated with tar at all, so it keeps the natural color of the hemp. It is called "white" in comparison with the tarred rope which is dark.
In big ships, only the wheel-rope is made of white rope because of its resistance and the confidence that one grants to him.