Sailor Mouth Saturday: Steer

Most of us are familiar with today's word. We steer our cars, our bicycles, our skateboards, our lives; and steer at sea has similar meaning. Not surprisingly perhaps, it has different ones as well.

Steering, according to the oft-quoted Admiral Smyth, comes from the Anglo-Saxon word steoran. To quote the Admiral once again:

The perfection of steering consists in a vigilant attention to the motion of the ship's head, so as to check every deviation from the line of her course in the first instant of its commencement, and in applying as little of the power of the helm as possible, for the action of the rudder checks a ship's speed.

Thus a skilled helmsman is capable of keeping a ship at her optimal speed while staying on her optimal course. A helmsman might also be called a steersman for this very reason. As an aside, the word for helmsman in French is timonier, from the French word for helm: timon. Thus in the Cinque Ports era and somewhat beyond, the word timoneer might be used for the steersman.

To steer large is to allow her to go free or to steer her loosely. To steer her small is the opposite; as the Admiral puts it "to steer well and within small compass, not dragging the tiller over from side to side." To steer her course is to go with a fair wind, allowing it to move the ship along on her charted course. Steerage way indicates the ship has enough room to use her helm effectively for steering.

An old, and the Admiral notes incorrect, term for studding sails is steering-sails.

Steerage, that fateful term so familiar to many an American whose ancestors came over in it, originally meant the act of steering. Steerage, when one spoke of the decks of a fighting ship, often referred to where the mechanisms of the helm worked their way to the tiller. Thus, the deck below the quarter and immediately before the bulkhead of the great cabin was steerage. Sometimes, the Admiral's cabin on the middle deck of a three-decker was known by this name. When passenger ships came into vogue in the late 19th century, steerage acquired its less-than-savory reputation as the lowest deck before the bilge where the least of the passengers were crammed together like the rats among them. It is only one such as Jame Cameron, in his high fantasy film Titanic, who would have the temerity to portray this steerage as the most delightful and carefree deck aboard a liner.

And finally, on a similar note, there is the word steeving, which applies to the painting above. In this now mostly archaic form of rigging, the bowsprit's angle was some 70 or 80 degrees above the horizon. This made it a proper mast upon which a sail could be rigged as shown.

And with that, I wish you a happy Saturday once again and all steerage way upon your cruises, Brethren.

Header: HMS Surprise by Randal Wilson via NAVART

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Lee

The word lee is commonly heard in discussing the sea and sea terms. "Have I brought you by the lee," is one of those euphemisms that just about everyone but the dog uses around chez Pauline. But what does it really mean? Let us look closer, shall we?

According to Admiral W.H. Smyth writing in The Sailor's Word Book, the English word lee comes from the Scandinavian loe or laa which roughly translates as the sea. With that in mind, we know that the word always had two feet firmly planted in the water and probably came from our intrepid Viking ancestors. To English speakers, lee has long meant the side of a vessel opposite the side upon which the wind is blowing. Thus leeward versus windward and leewardly meaning a ship unable to keep up with the wind versus weatherly, a ship that is capable in almost any weather.

Larger ships may have a lee anchor; any anchor catted to the leeward side. All ships riding at anchor may refer to their lee anchor if indeed the kedge is to the vessel's lee.

The lee beams are those on her lee side, positioned at right angles to the keel. The lee boards are wooden frames that are attached to the sides of small, flat-bottomed vessels like wings to keep them from drifting to leeward. The lee side of a ship is considered to be the portion of her that lies, as the Admiral describes it, "between the mast and the side farthest from the wind, the other half being the weather-side."

The lee side of the quarterdeck, which is often relatively shielded from the wind, is said to be the prerogative of the captain. It is here aboard the dear Surprise that Patrick O'Brian's Jack Aubrey took his exercise daily on the advise of his physician and particular friend, Stephen Maturin. On men-of-war, the lee side of the quarterdeck was sometimes known colloquially as "the midshipman's parade" since they were often being instructed there by the ship's captain or lieutenants.

A lee tide runs in the same direction of the wind and must be taken into account in navigation as it can push a ship to leeward. Thus the lee gauge refers to being farther from the wind than another vessel, either friend or foe. A ship may take a lee lurch and roll to leeward when struck by a unusual wave on her weather side. The dangerous lee shore is directly on a ship's leeward side with the wind battering her into it.

When a ship is on a lee hitch the helmsman has allowed her to drift to the lee. Being under the lee-gunnel is slang for a ship being troublesomely over taxed by wind, weather, or enemy fire. "Take care of the lee hatch!" This is an order to the helmsman not to get off on a lee hitch.

And then there's that bit about being brought by the lee. A ship is said to be under the lee when she is in water near a weather shore where the wind is coming off the land and the sailing is easier than it might be further out. In the uncomfortable situation known as to lay by the lee or to be brought by or come up on the lee, a ship is run out, brought by the lee quarter and looses the wind in her sails. Thus, when one is brought by the lee, they are speechless, dumbfounded; something a loquacious person like your humble hostess finds very vexing indeed.

Happy Saturday, Brethren. I do apologize for the long absence and hope to have that corrected within the next month. Until than - and in between as well - may your ship be weatherly, and never troubled by being brought by the lee.

Header: The lovely Mouzho on a sunset sail via the wonderful Naval Architecture on tumblr

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Hard

It may be that the use of the word hard in modern English came to the lexicon from Gaelic passed through years of seafaring speech. Of course, that statement is debatable but what, one has to ask themselves, in the study of language isn’t?


According to the inimitable Webster’s, hard comes from the Anglo-Saxon word heard meaning hard, firm or brave. In The Sailor’s Word Book, Admiral Smyth disagrees. He tells us that hard derives from the Gaelic aird which meant a rocky promontory that poked out into the water from a shore. This in turn became the sailor’s word ard, a firm beach or shore, or a muddy road path, sloping road or jetty leading into the water that is a prime place to pull a boat up on shore.

At this point, allow me to get the hard part of this post out of the way. It is a certainty that anyone who reads nautical fiction and/or enjoys seafaring movies is familiar with the order “hard-to” or “hard-a” in conjunction with some direction of the helm and/or rudder. In a majority of cases, though not all, there is confusion about just exactly what that order actually meant. If you will allow me to, I will let Admiral Smyth break it down for you as any paraphrasing or attempted clarification on my part can only muddy the waters, so to speak.

Hard-a-lee: The situation of the tiller when it brings the rudder hard over to windward. Strictly speaking, it only relates to a tiller which extends forward from the rudder-head; now many extend aft, in which case the order remains the same, but the tiller and rudder are both brought over to windward. Also, the order to put the tiller in this position. It is critical to remember with this entry that the Admiral was writing in the mid-19th century, so when he speaks of “now” with regard to the positioning of a ship’s rudder, he is talking about a period after 1840 or so.

Hard-a-port: The order so to place the tiller as to bring the rudder over to the starboard-side of the stern-post, whichever way the tiller leads.

Hard-a-starboard: The order so to place the tiller as to bring the rudder over to the port-side of the stern-post, whichever way the tiller leads.

Hard-a-weather: The order so to place the tiller as to bring the rudder on the lee-side of the stern-post, whichever way the tiller leads, in order to bear away; it is the position of the helm as opposed to hard-a-lee.

It is easy to see where confusion could – and does – arise when using the orders in shipboard dialogue. Careful consideration must be applied to the situation by the writer and, as I and so many more capable than I recommend, when in doubt read Patrick O’Brian who invariably got it right.

Stepping away from the helm, we encounter hard and fast, said of a ship which is on shore. Hard fish generally referred to cod or haddock but really encompassed any white fish salted to a jerky-like texture. A hard gale was one whose wind forced a ship at sea to sail under only storm staysails; we would now classify it as a category 10 gale. Harding is a type of light canvas while hards is an old term for oakum.

People are referred to as hard in various colorful ways as well; who would expect less from sailors after all. An old hand who can stand up to anything was called hard-a-weather. A hard bargain was someone useless who spent their time feeling sorry for themselves rather than getting to work. Hard up indicated a person in difficult straights, particularly financial. As Admiral Smyth puts it, a man obliged to bear up for Poverty Bay. Worse still was being hard up in a clinch and no knife to cut the seizing. In this case the man is quite literally doomed; there is no way to escape whatever misfortune has befallen him.

With that, I’ll leave it to you, Brethren, to decide where exactly our modern word hard originated. Given my seafaring proclivities, and the fact that March is the month o’ the Irish, I’ll side with the good Admiral if you don’t mind.

Header: CSS Shenandoah in Stormy Seas by Patrick O’Brien via Marine Artists

Tools of the Trade: Bring Her About

The image above is of the helm of the beautiful Star of India. Based out of San Diego, Star of India is the oldest working merchant vessel in the world and she is a piece of living, breathing history. If you've ever seen the "Tar Rigger" episode of Dirty Jobs, you've seen the Star of India. You've also witnessed just a little bit of how hard sailors work to keep up their ships. Especially sailing ships like the one in question.

But back to the helm. On any vessel the helm is simply the mechanism by which the ship or boat is steered. On small boats such as gigs and pinnaces, the helm would consist of a simple tiller attached directly to the rudder. This may also be the case in a smaller sloop or schooner - the kind pirates loved so much. In larger ships, again sometimes schooners and certainly frigate class ships and men-of-war, a wheel did the work. The wheel would control the rudder in such cases through a system of braces, gears and ropes.

The helmsman would be, of course, the man at the tiller or wheel. Orders to the helm indicated which way to move the tiller. As an example, the order "hard to starboard" would require and opposite reaction from the helmsman. The tiller being moved toward larboard (modern day port) would make the vessel turn to starboard. Certainly a confusing situation for anyone who lacked experience and only the most trusted and seaworthy men were given the job of helmsman. Then too there was the whole starboard/larboard thing which could get a little mixed up in anybody's head now and again. Particularly after your grog ration. Better add sobriety to the list of your helmsman's virtues, mate.

Try to keep that in your head as you go about your business today. There was a lot a "simple" sailor had to know, not the least of which was how to keep his wooden world on tack and afloat. And if you're ever in San Diego stop by for a tour of Star of India. She'll take your breath away, I promise. And give you just a hint of what life on the waves used to be like.