Sailor Mouth Saturday: Fresh

Tomorrow is Saint Patrick's Day: the day we're all Irish. Aside from corned beef, beer and all things green I always harken back to - and I'm really dating myself here - these very old Irish Spring soap commercials. Making a "strong" man "fresh" was what Irish Spring was about and thus, today's SMS word.

Fresh at sea generally refers to one of three things: water, wind or rigging. Let's look at them in that order, shall we?

Fresh water if, of course, that that is not salt. A ship freshens her water by taking on more casks of same for drinking and cooking but rarely if ever for washing. Other fresh water, particularly that from rain or snow, was used for that purpose. If none of that was to hand one might have the good luck to use the freshening from a local river. The so called fresh shot was the fresh water that came down stream from a large river and emptied into a body of salt water. As Admiral Smyth notes in The Sailor's Word Book, in such cases - particularly after a large dump of rain or with snow melt inland - "... fresh water is often to be found on the surface a good way from the mouth of the river." There is, in similar cases, the freshes which refer to the large deposits of silt and other materials swept into the oceans and gulfs by the world's mightiest rivers. With the Nile, Congo, Ganges, Mississippi and others, the discolorations in the salt waters can be seen from outer space.

In relation to rivers, a sailor with blue water experience may refer to one who works rivers and lakes pejoratively as a "fresh water jack." This was essential an insult and meant that the individual was just this side of a lubber. Samuel Clemens, as an example, might be called a fresh water jack by the likes of Richard Henry Dana, Jr. or Joseph Conrad. Sorry, Mark Twain...

Fresh water seas are those that are so large, they essentially behave like the ocean. Probably the best example of these is the Great Lakes at the U.S. and Canada boarder. Superior, Michigan, Huron Erie and Ontario are all example of lakes that are just as vast - and potentially deadly - as any gulf we know.

A fresh breeze is a brisk and often sudden wind but can also refer to the way a ship is handled in known channels of wind, such as the trades or gulf stream. A fresh gale is just a more powerful form of a fresh breeze. When a ship begins to feel the push of a fresh breeze, she is said to freshen her way. Fresh way is also said of a man who picks up his stride or sets out at a run. Fresh way is slightly different, and refers to a ships increased speed through the water; she gathers fresh way, for instance, after completing a successful tack when her sails once again catch the wind.

One can freshen rigging by adjusting ropes or cable, thus relieving pressure points and potential failure on or of same. To freshen the hawse, for instance, means to relieve the part of the cable that has been repeatedly exposed to friction from the hawse hole. This is necessary in times when a ship sits at anchor for some days. The term freshen the nip follows this rule and essential refers to the same duty. It also has been used to essentially mean "the sun is over the yardarm" for those officers who are ready for a glass.

The ballast is freshened when it is raked and/or moved to better purpose. Fresh grub are new stores taken aboard. A fresh spell means new men to taking on a repetitious task such as turning the capstan. And finally, your mate might be fresh meaning not that he is a bit too friendly but that he is just this side of drunk. As the Admiral puts it delicately, "excited by drink."

So cheers mates and a Happy St. Pat's. Perhaps a Guinness rather than a grog is in order. Slainte!

Header: Merchant's Quay at Newry; photo from the National Library of Ireland via Naval Architecture

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Lay

"A rough hardy seaman, unus'd to shore ways; Knew little of ladies, but much of lay-days."

Or so Captain Cuttle explained of the merchant service in the 18th century. Lay-days were the express number of 24 hour periods as designated in a ship's bill of lading which said vessels was allowed in port. These days were specifically for the unloading of one cargo and loading of another and not for the convenience of the sailors. The less time this process took the better. The ship's owner had recourse to an overage of days - or even hours - in port by deducting a specified sum from what would amount to the crew's pay. No wonder so many merchant sailors went on the account...

To lay was the sea-speak for to come or go; lay aloft, lay forward, lay aft, lay out etc. As Admiral Smyth notes in The Sailor's Word Book, "This is not the neuter verb lie mispronounced, but the active verb lay." A mistake of semantics seen in unfortunately ill-researched nautical fiction. One may also lay a gun, which is essentially to aim a cannon. Not the easiest thing with a huge 24 in a rolling sea.

To lay in is the order for men to return from the yards or to man the capstan. Taking on provisions was sometimes spoken of as laying in sea stock and laying in the oars was the order from the coxswain to ship the oars of a boat. This would generally be preceded by the order to lay (or lie) on your oars, meaning to stop rowing. Lay out your oars then means the opposite: row harder.

Laying or lying out a yard: to go out toward the yard arms. Laying or lying along: when a ship is down sideways in a gale.

On can lay up; a ship by dismantling her or lay the land by almost losing sight of it. To lay-to is to set only one sail in a rough sea and can also be spoke of as to lie-to. Lay her course: this is the ability to sail in the direction desired, regardless of whether or not the wind is in your favor.

Laying down, sometimes spoken as laying off, is the delineation of the lines of a ship from the draught at the beginning of building her.

And thus we find the end of another Sailor Mouth Saturday. See how that lays with ye...

Header: Gorgeous draught of a French frigate from the late 18th century via my good mates at Under the Black Flag (see sidebar)

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Crab

It will come as no surprise to any of the Brethren that the word crab at sea very rarely refers to the shellfish. There are crabs which are tools, a ship can crab to it and an individual can even be a crab. In fact our reference to someone being “crabby” probably has an origin at sea.


Crab, according to the dear Webster, comes from the Middle English word crabbe which meant hook or claw and was originally a word for a crowbar-like tool. A similar tool, usually made of iron and used predominantly for pulling long metal spikes out of wood, is still used at sea and still called a crab.

Crab is also used to refer to a large capstan. This is usually fitted into men-of-war of several thousand tons and has between two and four tiers of holes for capstan bars. When pushed upon by a large number of men on numerous decks, it can generate enough leverage to raise the heaviest of anchors and other loads. A smaller, movable version of the same device which is usually fitted out with wheels and used to lift cargo on and off ship is also known as a crab. A crab-windlass is a much smaller version of this device originally used in barges and now seen on yachts.

A long iron bar, known as the crab with three claws, is used in launching ships as well as for heaving them close to a dock.

A crab-boat can be among a ship’s small craft and is similar to a jolly boat in size and sail positioning. Crabbler is the English word for the Russian vessel known as a krabla. These boats were generally used for hunting arctic sea mammals such as seal and walrus and had thick, ice-resistant hulls.

A ship is said to be crabbing to or crabbing to it – “it” being the wind – when she is carrying an overage of sail in high winds. This situation will make the ship move sideways to leeward much like a crab runs sideways across the sand. A crab-yaw is similar but refers to a quick veering of the ship sideways due to unseamanlike use of her helm.

When a sailor does not dip his oar fully in the water while rowing a boat, he is said to have caught a crab. This action is abhorrent as it can potential throw of the rhythm of the entire rowing crew and at the very least it makes one’s mates pull harder. The saying catching a crab thus translates aboard ship as one of the most popular ways to belittle a fellow sailor.

Perhaps by extension, a popular accusation of sullenness or ill-temper in the late 18th and early 19th centuries was to say someone was crabbed. O’Brian has Jack Aubrey frequently asking Stephen Maturin why he is so crabbed to which the general reply is in kind: “I’m not the one who is crabbed, Jack; you are.” I know you are but what am I, if you like. It may be that this meaning translates to our modern reference to people being crabby as noted above. Aren’t words wonderful things?

Happy Saturday, Brethren! I’ll catch you tomorrow for Seafaring Sunday.

Header: Jack and Stephen, neither of whom appears much crabbed; although if I were Paul Bettany I might have some issues with the billing on this theatre card...

Tools Of The Trade: Up And Down

Manning the capstan aboard ship (model at the San Fransisco Maritime Museum website)

It probably goes without saying that anchors are heavy things. Even aboard smaller ships like sloops and schooners, you're dealing with tons rather than pounds. You can heave away at a cable with your mates until your hands are bloody but that's really not the most efficient use of your time. Human beings (and I like to believe sailors in particular) are pretty clever creatures so, of course, there is a better way.

Enter the capstan. The device, shown above in use on a small ship, is a essentially a winch and has been in use in different forms since ancient times. Both the Greeks and Romans had mechanisms for hauling up their blocky anchors. Viking longboats and Chinese junks used a form of capstan and by the 18th century the capstan as it is pictured above was an established feature on all but the smallest boats.

Obviously capstans come in many sizes and the shapes differ but the basic design is the same. The head of the capstan, which is barrel shaped and has an iron spindle passing through it under the deck on which it sits, is fitted with holes at even intervals for inserting the capstan bars. Looking at the picture, you can see why the bars (which our sailors are diligently pushing on) need to be removable. When the bars are "shipped" into the holes and their outer lengths are even, they are said to be "swifted".

Now it's time to heave, mates. The anchor could be any number of fathoms below the ship. Hauling her up was heavy, slow and grueling work so as many hands to the capstan as possible was the general rule. It was also nice if a ship's boy with a talent for a flute or recorder could hop up on top and play an invigorating tune. By literally pushing at the bars, the men made the capstan turn. The cable attached to the anchor (jog your memory of cables here) is also attached to the main body of the capstan and the it is literally wrapped around the barrel as the thing is pulled up.

In small ships, as shown above, a single mate can keep the rope from tangling. In larger ships, an entire system of men and trench-like leads was needed to keep the cable in line. For a pirate or privateer in a schooner or brig, a single capstan would do the job nicely.

Imagine, however, a first rate ship-of-the-line such as Nelson's HMS Victory carrying 102 guns and 850 men. The sheer size of the ship is mind boggling. Now think of her anchor. In such ships a double capstan was necessary. An extension of the capstan on the first deck drops into the deck below so that twice as many men can heave to. Also, a ship that can accommodate longer capstan bars can more efficiently pull up a heavier weight. It goes without saying that four or five men to a bar can apply more pressure than one or two.

But the ingenious capstan was no one hit wonder. Run aground on a shoal or reef and your capstan can jump to directly. A boat with the ship's anchor or anchors (again, in larger ships you may have more than one) would be sent out in the opposite directions from where the ship has run aground. The anchor is dropped and set, and then the men at the capstan are put to work to "haul off" the ship if at all possible.

This can also come in handy if a ship is already at anchor, crippled or becalmed and needs to move. The set of the anchor and the working of the capstan can literally get a ship from one place to another without the assistance of wind, oars or engine. An example of manpower at work.

Of course ships still utilize capstans, but now they are generally motorized objects that make a distasteful whirring noise. It's a shame really. Your humble hostess misses the days of hard working sailors with impressive muscles heaving to at the capstan bars until the cable is up and down and finally the anchor is clean and dry for weighing. Still, the anticipation of getting underway will never change and we have the capstan to thank, at least partially, for that.