Navigation — where it appears
Named by 15 essays across one field — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Why Mercator exists
A ship can hold a compass bearing and cannot easily hold a great circle. Mercator is the answer to one question — what must a map do so that a constant bearing is a straight line — and it answers it exactly.
The gnomonic companion
One projection turns every great circle into a straight line, and it is the only one that does. It shows less than half the sphere, distorts enormously, and was indispensable for three centuries because of that single exact property.
Flying a curve in straight legs
Nobody steers a great circle, because a great circle requires the heading to change continuously. What is actually flown is a handful of constant-heading legs between waypoints on it, and the gap between plan and curve falls as the square of the number of legs.
A route that must go round
A shortest route is usually free to go anywhere, and no real route is. The shortest path past a circular exclusion is two tangent great circles and an arc of the rim — a closed form that agrees with a shortest-path search to three metres in 9,598 kilometres — and it costs not the obstacle's size but the square of how far the obstacle reaches past the route.
The line drawn straight on the page is a route
Eleven essays draw the route on the map. Nobody has drawn the map's own proposal: the ground curve somebody follows by laying a ruler on the page. It has a name on exactly two projections and is 18.2 per cent long on the one where it is famous.
The shortest route a vehicle can fly
A shortest path under a metric says nothing about whether the thing travelling can follow it. Bound the curvature and the route depends on two headings as well as two positions: the turning cost is a fixed 1.81 kilometres whatever the leg length, so it is 18 per cent of a short leg and 0.28 per cent of a long one, and the whole of it vanishes when the vehicle happens to be pointing the right way.
A line of position is Newton's method, but only on a conformal chart
An altitude of a star puts a ship on a circle five thousand kilometres across, and the intercept method replaces that circle with a straight line. On Mercator the fix those lines give is one step of Newton's method: its error falls as the square of the assumed position's, and re-running it turns 300 kilometres into 24 metres in two steps. On a sheet that does not correct longitude for latitude it keeps a fixed share of every east–west error, one less the cosine of the latitude — 36 per cent at 50° north.
A cocked hat holds the ship one time in four
Three lines of position with any error in them bound a small triangle, and the instinct is that the ship is inside. With independent errors it is inside one time in four, whatever the triangle's shape. A common error in every sight makes that almost always when the stars surround the ship and almost never when they do not. And on a sheet that forgets the latitude, the triangle keeps its size and moves off the ship altogether.
The residual reports the error the fix was immune to
A fourth sight gives a four-line fit something three lines never had: a leftover. The leftover is a real measurement of the sights, and it is useless exactly where it is needed. One number computed from the four azimuths alone — before any star is observed — says how much of a common error reaches the residual, and it is 1 when the bodies stand at the quarters of the compass, where such an error moves the fix by nothing at all, and 0.004 when they are bunched within sixty degrees, where it moves the fix by two kilometres.
What the extra unknown costs where nothing can see it
Four lines of position can estimate a common error in every sight as well as the position. The estimate is honest — three kilometres put in comes back as 2.8 — and where the residual is blind, its scatter is plus or minus thirty-one, and the fix that carries it is scattered fourteen kilometres from the ship against the biased fix's two and a half. Letting the residual choose between the two is worse than either, because a test with no power is a one-in-twenty lottery on the worse answer.
A confidence ellipse is honest only where the sheet keeps angles
The cocked hat covers seven square kilometres and holds the ship a quarter of the time; the confidence ellipse from the same three sights covers fifty and holds it ninety-five per cent, which is what it was built to do. On a plotting sheet whose longitude is not corrected for latitude that ellipse fails in two unrelated ways — its centre is displaced, which costs coverage and depends on the navigator's own assumed position, and its shape is misread, which costs nothing but meaning and depends only on the latitude.
A low sight is worth keeping only if it is weighted
A body five degrees above the horizon is seen through so much air that its refraction correction is ten times a high body's, and a tenth of that correction uncertain doubles the sight's error. Given the same weight as the others, a sight below seven degrees makes the fix worse than throwing it away; weighted by its variance it never does. The ellipse drawn without weights is turned twenty degrees from the right one, and a navigator who must guess the weights loses far less by guessing high.
Weighted by what it disagrees with, the fix trusts the sight it leans on
With six sights and two unknowns, the residuals seem to offer a way to find the bad sight without knowing the weather: weight each line by how little it disagrees, and solve again. One step of that gives a low body almost exactly the weight its altitude would, 4.5 per cent against 4.0. Every further step walks it away. Iterated until the weights settle, the fit is worse than weighting nothing in all four arrangements tried. Where the low body stands alone in its direction it ends with six times the weight it earns, because the fix leans on its line and its residual shows only 46 per cent of its error.
A week of twilights learns what a sight is worth
One fix cannot tell how good its low sight was, but every residual of every fix is a point on one straight line whose slope is the square of the refraction share, once each is corrected exactly for its own fix's geometry. After one twilight the estimate is zero four times in ten; after a week it is within half again of the truth nearly four times in five. And the lesson is worth little: a guess within a factor of two already costs under 4 per cent of the fix, a week's estimate 1.3, and a share that changes from night to night by half again costs more than the learning buys.
Tonight's residuals measure tonight's air badly and weight tonight's fix well
A week of twilights learns the typical refraction share and nothing about tonight's, and a share that changes from night to night costs more than the week buys. With the sextant's error taken from the week, one twilight's residuals estimate tonight's share alone — badly: within half again of the truth 43 times in a hundred with three bodies near the horizon, and zero 22 times. Used as a weight, that poor estimate costs the fix between two and four per cent whatever the night, so it beats the typical share once nights differ by more than half again, and a blend of the two, leaning on tonight as the nights grow more variable, beats both. A weather predictor has to explain most of the nightly change to do better.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
EstimatorLeast-squaresGreat circleVerificationConformalityCovarianceMercatorResidualAzimuthGnomonicNoiseStandard error