Those eighteenth-century bone models are indeed astonishing - and, when one thinks about the circumstances when they were built, emotionally moving.
Building them was also a popular activity in British prisons during the Wars of the French Revolution and Napoleon. Many of the surviving models represent French ships, having been built by French POWs. Apparently they were permitted to sell such things, presumably using the money to buy tobacco, extra food, and other "luxury" items.
The joint where I used to work (the Mariners' Museum, Newport News, Virginia) had one such model, and an exquisite one it was. I had occasion to do some very minor cleaning and restoration work on it once; I was literally almost afraid to touch it. Its rigging, which was quite elaborate, appeared to be made of human hair, which seems to have been typical. Apparently the ladies of the community took pity on the prisoners.
To study these things is a humbling and moving experience. Consider that they had to be built without reference to any sort of plans; these modelers almost certainly were working entirely from memory. (In some of them the hull forms, quite understandably, are distorted - especially below the waterline. But the details of the rigging frequently are incredibly precise.) Think of the tools they had to work with. And, for that matter, the amount of light that must have been available to them. (Modeling after dark must have been almost impossible.)
One of the better collections of bone models (most of them French) can be seen at the Naval Academy Museum in Annapolis, Maryland. Years ago the Conway Maritime Press published a fine book about them, by Ewart Freeston, but it's long been out of print. A reprint of it would be most welcome.
Youth, talent, hard work, and enthusiasm are no match for old age and treachery.