I never like writing filled with subtle allegory, puzzles, and hidden meaning. But in the hands of a master, creative use of language is an art that deepens the experience and allows communication of ideas and emotions that simpler writing cannot. Yet, as a reader, I can also miss the point entirely when I read jargon, which happens more often than not. I’m an engineer, not a literary master. I can string together a few coherent sentences and say what I mean. I don’t create art when relating facts, and I try not to complicate things with jargon that doesn’t add clarity. Unfortunately, sailing is the kind of activity that throws up lots of barriers to entry simply because of the words we use. Should we embrace the lingo as part of our shared heritage, or knock down the barriers to let more people aboard?
HOW DID WE GET HERE?
Nautical terms evolved over centuries of multi-national crews working together. A specialized language developed that allowed calls down the length of a ship to be understood without additional explanation. The language was never intended to be fun, elitist, or exclusive. It was meant to be accurate. But somewhere along the way, obscure nautical verbiage and anachronisms were not retired as English moved along.
The following is a list of common nautical words and expressions, along with a case for whether or not they should enter your personal lexicon afloat or get thrown overboard. My one rule? Avoid phases that could mean something different if only partially heard. Also, avoid information saturation. Steering a sailboat can require considerable concentration in blustery conditions, so filter what the helmsman needs to know. Offer information about how long to the next tack, for instance, but not about freighter traffic that’s miles away and poses no danger. If you’re driving, tune out information clearly directed at someone else.
Is it wrong to use land-based terms on a boat? V-berth is descriptive, but cabin can mean a sleeping cabin or refer to the entire enclosed space belowdecks. Stateroom feels ostentatious when referring to an enclosed bunk on a small boat. Bedroom might make more sense, from the point of view of someone new to our sport. You won’t burn in hell if you call a “berth” a “bed”.
A GUIDE TO COMMON NAUTICAL USAGE
Astern. Astern can be a command given when anchoring (slow astern) or a direction (the dingy is astern). If the helmsman heard you wrong, you just wound the painter around the prop. It is less ambiguous, at least with landsmen crew, to ask for slow in reverse or to say something is behind us instead of “astern”. Same with Ahead.
Beam Reach. Is that based on apparent wind or the true wind? I’ve seen both used in authoritative texts. On a fast boat there is little change in sail trim as the boat transitions from beating to a course 90 degrees away from the true wind. Turning as far away from the wind as they dare for best downwind progress, the apparent wind remains forward of the beam, and yet the course is clearly broad of the true wind. Obviously, a point of sail based on true wind direction best describes the boat’s relative course, but a point of sail based on apparent wind better describe sail trim. Our advice? Consider describing desired course relative to apparent wind if you’re racing, true wind if you’re out for a cruise.
Capsize. It’s easy to assume this means the boat is upside down, but all it means for certain is that it is no longer level
In a case like this, it is best to be specific. Was the boat knocked down, flooded but on its side, or inverted (otherwise known as turtled)?
Charlie Noble. This is a 19-century reference to the stack coming from a ship’s galley, named after a British merchant known spit and polish. The galley flue was copper and became stained with grease, and soot, and corrosion, so he demanded daily cleaning.
Coolant vs. Antifreeze. Common dictionaries consider antifreeze and engine coolant to be one and the same but manufactures and standards groups have separate definitions. Engine coolant goes in a vehicle or stationary equipment that requires heat transfer (or boat with a heat exchanger separating the coolant from seawater), while antifreeze is used solely to prevent freezing (for winterizing potable water systems, sea-cooled engines, black-water systems, and on dry land, fire-protection systems).
Fake vs. Flake. Traditionally you flake sails on the boom and fake lines on deck. Once the line is faked out, it is said “to be flaked” on deck. I’m going with flaking lines. One less word to keep track of and they sound the same.
Going Below vs. Downstairs. On my catamaran, leaving the cockpit and entering the cabin is not downstairs or below. It is on the same level. But I still like “going below” because it’s short and the meaning is clear; I’m leaving the cockpit and going into the cabin.
Head Up and Bear Off. The non-sailor may think an instruction to turn right is more clear than a command to head up or bear off, but the helmsman should be focused on wind direction, and as a result, an instruction to head up is more likely to produce the correct response as long as the person on the helm knows heading up means steering closer to where the wind is coming from. To bear off or bear away means the opposite—steering away from where the wind is coming from.
Left and Right (or Port and Starboard). As you face forward towards the bow, port is to your left and starboard is to your right. If you’re at the bow facing aft, port is to your right and starboard is to your left. This is why mariners like to call the port side of the boat the port side, and likewise with the starboard side. They are specific unchangeable locations on board regardless of which direction you’re facing. There are instances when you want to instruct someone new to sailing to steer “a little more to the right,” but learning port from starboard should be less about direction and more about physical locality. While there is still a port and starboard side of the boat, commercial and military helming commands are now right and left. The reason for the change was not that sailors could not keep port and starboard straight, but so a report that another ship is 45 degrees to port cannot be confused with a command to steer 45 degrees left.
Helm’s Alee vs. Tacking. The first is traditional, announcing that the tiller has been moved to leeward, the boat is turning to windward, and a tack has begun. But if the boat has a wheel, it sounds like we are turning to leeward— pointless ambiguation for the sake of tradition. I prefer “tacking” which is concise.
“Ready about” I’m good with. Concise, and short, and more clear than “prepare to tack,” which could be confused with “tacking” if not clearly heard.
Kedge. I occasionally hear a sailor refer to their storm anchor as a kedge. It sounds nautical. But in fact, it is nearly the opposite of what it means. A kedge is a lightweight anchor that is taken out by dinghy to move a boat. A kedge can also be useful as a stern anchor or as a secondary anchor used to reduce yawing. The verb “to kedge” (according to Webster’s) is to move a ship by means of a line attached to a small anchor dropped at the distance and in the direction desired. Examples: To get closer to shore, they kedged the ship.
Kellet. A weight intended to keep an anchor rode down in the water so it creates a wider angle between an anchor and a boat in order to improve holding. Derived from kellik or killeck, a traditional name for a rock tied to a rope and used as an anchor, kellet is the generic name for a weight placed on the rode to keep it down. Use the generic rather than a name brand unless there is a specific reason to call out the maker. (Note: A killick is also a traditional name for a small anchor. Ask any Navy man. I have no problem with that, unless you use it on a boat, where it is too easily confused with kellet. Instead say “lunch hook” or specify which anchor you mean.
Make Fast vs. Tie-off. Defined as to fix securely, it seems vague to me. When you ask me to make a line fast to a piling, should I tie a clove hitch, wrap several turns and finish with a knot, or place a loop over the top? Or if I didn’t hear you clearly, should I just do something quickly (as in “fast”)? Just, say what you mean. Say something more specific, like tie it off, cleat it, or lash it down.
Masthead. We speak of working on something at the masthead, but the masthead light is a forward-facing navigation light placed on the forward side of the mast, some distance down from the top of the mast. If we go to the dictionary, the masthead can be either the highest part of a ship’s mast or the top of a lower section of a mast. If you look in COLREGS, the rules for navigation and lights, they use masthead in the former sense and say top of the mast when referring to a tri-color navigation light, for example. And yet we all refer to the sheaves and anchor light as being at the masthead, instead of at the top of the mast. Tricky.
Overhead vs. Ceiling. In plain English, “overhead” can also mean anything that is over your head, such as the boom. Ceiling seems less ambiguous. Of course, overhead makes the term “headliner” more obvious, but I’m okay with that, since cars have headliners but not overheads. I can sense sticklers are already penning their reproof in the comments. The word ‘ceiling’ also describes the interior vertical liner of a ship’s cabin. On a boat, the ceiling is not the overhead, it’s the interior wall. For clarity, just use “wall” to describe the interior surface of a cabin, and “overhead” for the underside of the deck over your head. While we are on this subject, a “floor” on a boat is a timber or joist that supports the “sole” you walk on. It’s your boat so you can call it anything you want, but a lot of graybeards still like “sole.”
Rode. I often read articles describing the connection between the anchor and the boat as either chain or rode, meaning rope in the latter case. But rode is actually the generic for any connection between the boat and the anchor. Thus, the connection (rode) can be either rope, chain, or even steel cable. The rode and anchor, collectively with connecting parts like shackles and whatnot, become the ground tackle.
To confound matters, Oxford’s English Dictionary says something different: “rode, n.1 North American regional (chiefly New England and Newfoundland). Nautical. A rope, esp. one attached to the anchor of a boat.”
There is a conflict, leaving the matter open to interpretation. Of course, the English consider Americans to be poor stewards of the language, and have laid the blame for this misuse on us. I agree, so I use rode in the collective sense.
Rope vs. Line. “There is no rope onboard, only line.” This is a nautical affectation that, in my opinion, clarifies nothing. First, there are many ropes on board; bolt ropes, anchor rope, bell rope, foot rope, starter rope, and 50 more I could name on a square-rigged ship. There is also a straight line, lay line, fishing line, the starting line etc., which have nothing to do with rope. In a dictionary, line as rope is a secondary definition, whereas rope is unambiguous. If a rope has a purpose, then call it by that name, i.e., the main sheet, the barber hauler, etc. But if I say, “adjust that line,” do I mean move a penciled mark? Or trim a sheet? Context matters. Frankly, I’d feel silly saying pull that line, when obviously, it is made of rope. So, use rope if you want, but it’s better if you are referring to a rope that has a specific name and purpose, like mainsail halyard, or traveler. Under those circumstances, using the word “rope” or “line” is superfluous.
Sealant vs. Caulk. Conventional dictionaries consider paint to be sealant and the thick stuff in a tube to be caulk. Sailors, chandlers, manufacturers, and standards organizations (ASTM), on the other hand, refer to the thick stuff as sealant and surface coatings as, well, coatings or paint. This is an exception to the dictionary rule.
Another practical distinction exists between flexible adhesives like 3M 5200 and more flexible sealants like 3M 4200 and Sika 291. Subtle, I suppose, but worth understanding when shopping for “caulk.”
Take the Helm, Steer, or Drive? I recall once asking my daughter to steer while I adjusted something. All I wanted her to do was maintain a course (and I probably threw in “keep it straight” or “aim for that house”). Later, as my daughter gained experience, I asked her to drive while I ducked below to get a sandwich. In the later case, she understood the clear implication was that it was her boat to manage, just as you take full responsibility for operation and navigation when you’re driving a car. “You have the helm” can mean the same thing, but I’m not sure it always does and I would feel the need to clarify. So I specify whether I want you to steer or drive.
Under weigh vs. Under way: A ship that has weighed anchor, whether under canvas, adrift, or under tow, is said to be under way but not making way. Some will argue that a boat is under weigh when it has lifted the anchor but is not yet making way. This is considered an anachronism and is falling out of use. It’s important to know that a vessel that is under way with the anchor stowed but not making any forward motion still has an obligation to show the proper light, shape and sound signals and has a duty to avoid a collision.
Weather vs. Sail to Windward, the Other Boat is to Weather, etc. Heard incompletely, did you mean the weather was changing, that there is a boat to windward, or that I need to point higher to clear the buoy? I like the sound of it in writing, but when sailing I’ll ask you either to point higher or say there is a boat approaching from either starboard or port.
SUMMARY
Our goal should be clarity, not deliver a salty expression to impress our landsmen friends. Is it wrong to use land-based terms on a boat? Not if it gets the message across. V-berth is descriptive, but cabin can mean a sleeping cabin or refer to the entire enclosed space belowdecks. Stateroom feels ostentatious when referring to an enclosed bunk on a small boat. Bedroom might make more sense. Or, like pulling on deck shoes before stepping from the quay to the deck, is the change in language a part of the sailing experience? You decide. Our children will tell us if we were right.
And incidentally, the definition of “crosstrees” alluded to in the subhead above is the place where the spreaders intersect the mast. This place is also called “the hounds.” A baggywrinkle is homemade chafe protection made out of cast-off rope attached to a shroud or cable to protect a sail from wear.
Like or loathe nautical terminology? Leave a comment.
