Sailor Mouth Saturday: Cheat

As the Brethren are well aware, sailors are a superstitious lot. Today’s word plays in to that mind set. And it also points up where and when a sailor is not afraid to let superstition go by the board to save his skin, or for an extra few minutes of blessed sleep.

The practice known at sea as cheating the Devil has everything to do with superstition. Bringing the Lord, or for that matter the Arch Fiend, into one’s speech was a sure way to court disaster aboard ship. This lead to what Admiral Smyth refers to as the “softening of very profane phrases” in The Sailor’s Word Book. Thus “God’s death” might come out as ‘od’s depth. Other epithets familiar to the seamen that would otherwise feature the word God might include ‘od’s blood, ‘od rot it, or for ‘od’s sake.

On the other hand, calling up the Devil would never do either, except as an absolute last resort. In such cases, a sailor might offer his hair to the Devil, throwing a lock into the water or up into the wind to please Old Scratch in desperate times. Help in a pinch is help, after all; the consequences can be dealt with later. All things being equal, however, sailors would rather not court Satan. Thus phrases like by gosh, be darned and dang you probably had a seagoing origin. More colorful terms such as deuce take you and see you blown first might also be overheard. Better safe than sorry after all.

The habit known as cheating, or flogging, the glass comes from a time when clocks were not a feature on a ship’s deck. The timing of bells and watches was kept by means of a half-hour glass which was usually hung near the binnacle.  General understanding among seamen had it that the sand would run through the glass more quickly if exposed to vibration. A man might “cheat the glass” by jarring it surreptitiously. As Admiral Smyth aptly puts it:

… hence some weary soul towards the end of his watch was said to flog the glass.

Given that the average Jack got no more than four hours at a stretch of free time at sea, one can imagine a tired soul being desperate to hurry time along.

Happy Saturday, Brethren; watch your language – and the glass – out there.

Header: Sunset by Mykola Yaroshenko via Old Paint

Tools Of The Trade: Getting The Point

The compass is a device that has been in use for hundreds of years. It most probably made its debut at sea, although there is some ongoing debate about that, and has always been a somewhat suspicious item aboard ship. Sailors of old found the mystery of its magnetism akin to magick; they liked their compass stowed neatly in a brass binnacle not just to keep it safe from the elements but to keep them safe from it.

A compass works on the relatively simple principle of the magnetism of Earth’s poles. That may be where “simple” ends as far as a compass, however, at least when one hears it spoken of. Today, let us look at some of the terminology surrounding the compass as it is used for navigation at sea.

The card is the familiar surface of the compass on which the points and degrees are marked as exampled above in the beautifully preserved compass card by Samuel Thaxter and Co. circa 1792. In the center the needle, usually in that familiar arrow shape would rest on the pin. The card itself is free spinning and the needle magnetized to constantly point toward magnetic North.

The points are the 32 divisions on the card. Each one is a standard eleven and one half degrees apart. The degrees, then, are the 360 divisions on a modern compass card. They start at 000 degrees at the North. South is 180 degrees with East being 090 and West 270. A full rotation of 360 degrees brings you back to North.

The cardinal points on a compass are North, South, East and West. The intercardinal points are Northeast, Southeast, Northwest and Southwest. Sometimes these are referred to as the half-cardinal points.

Since the accuracy of a compass varies depending on a number of factors – particularly at sea – variations and deviations have to be taken into account and then corrected for.

Variation is the angle of difference between true and magnetic direction in degrees East or West. Deviation are similarly expressed East or West but are the angle of difference caused by metal objects in the ship itself. The sum, in algebraic terms, of variation and deviation is known as compass error.

The process of determining deviations as they relate to the ship’s course, which needs to be done with some regularity, is known as swinging the compass. A log book, known as a deviation card, is kept to list deviations as determined in this manner.

Once variation and deviation have been taken into account, it’s time for correcting or uncorrecting as the case may be. Correcting is the process of converting the magnetic direction indicated by the compass to the true direction needed to stay on course. Accomplish this by subtracting westerly errors and adding errors to the east.

Uncorrecting, obviously, works the opposite way. In this case one is correcting to magnetic direction from true direction. There is a humorous mnemonic device for this: Timid Virgins Make Dull Company, Add Whiskey (as Jack explained to Stephen on one particular Seafaring Sunday). In this case the westerly errors are added to the true direction to determine magnetic direction.

All of the above, which are relatively simple to the seasoned navigator, seem mind boggling (and perhaps migraine-inducing) to the landsman or new seaman. It is absolutely no wonder that a long apprenticeship was necessary before one could be trusted at the wheel to take correct action in any kind of tense situation. “Come about,” sounds simple, but “Come about two points north-northwest and see to deviation” would take years of practice to accomplish quickly.

Of course now a ship has every kind of imaginable gadget to take care of these issues for it. But some of us are still fond of our magickal, mysterious compass.

Header: As noted above; available for purchase from landandseacollection.com

Tools Of The Trade: "I Mind My Compass And My Way"

Compasses are pretty cool things. Making use of the magnetic pull of the poles a compass can tell you, at least relatively speaking, where you are even in the empty vastness of blue water. In this age of GPS, the compass rarely comes into play but in the 18th and 19th century it was the height of navigational technology.

Small ships rarely had a compass. The sloops and boats that worked the rivers and coasts - more often full of pirates than anything else - navigated with the assistance of a pilot who knew the coastline and river roads like he knew his toes. Larger ships, brigs, barks, frigates and so on, usually had two compasses on deck and a man-of-war might have as many as four.

A compass, by definition, is a circular box containing a fly or paper card suspended by two concentric rings or gimbals. The card is divided into 32 equal parts representing the points of the horizon. Beginning with north, south, east and west and working up to the minutia of north-north west of south. As noted, each of these positions on the compass was known as a point and was equal to 11 degrees and 15 minutes. With the addition of a magnetic needle that carries the card around with it, north can always be determined. Or almost always since there are seasonal and local variations as well as some deviation caused by metal in the ship itself.

It's a little hard to wrap your head around, isn't it? Navigation by the compass aboard a sailing ship was not a thing that could be taught in a classroom and the apprenticeship of midshipman was vital to obtaining this skill as well as many others.

The compass, being a delicate instrument, was of course easily subject to the vicissitudes of sun, sea water and weather. Partially due to this, the compass or compasses on deck were kept in a wooden box, generally with brass fittings, known as a binnacle. That word is unintentionally cute - it sounds like a good name for a puppy - and evidently derives from the French word habittacle meaning "little house". Two binnacles would be fitted near the wheel in order to check readings for accuracy. In larger ships, a third binnacle would stand in the waist of the ship and would be used by the Master as a piloting tool in open water.

The binnacle had a second purpose as well. Seamen were very distrustful of compasses. Their magnetic pull seemed almost magical and magic, as you know mate, is the tool of the Devil. Better to build a little house for the compass and keep it safely stowed where it's magic can be harnessed for the good of the ship. No reason to take chances.

As Matthew Green once rhymed: Though pleased to see the dolphins play; I mind my compass and my way.

And so should we all.