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You are welcome to apply any part of this article to your own personal use. Please do NOT publish any part of the article or apply any part of it to any non-personal use without the express written concent of the author.
I really enjoy the richness of the language of our sport. In this article, I will focus on Sailor Talk that are actually the names of individuals. Some of these have clear sources, and some sources are not so obvious.
Let's start with Charlie Nobel. He lent his name to the galley's smokestack. But who was he? All my references agree that old Charlie was someone who took great pride in keeping the brass or copper galley-stack brightly shined. But there's no agreement on who he actually was. Charlie's been "positively identified" variously as a British or American captain, officer, mate, cook, or a particularly dull-witted deck hand of either a merchant, fishing or naval vessel.
Matthew Walker is as obscure as Charlie. He is believed to have been a rigger in one the British Navy shipyards in the middle of the last century, and to have created the only knot to carry the name of its inventor. I've come across several variations in the story of the origin of the knot, each more interesting than the last. Regardless of the variation, they all consistently say that Matthew got himself in trouble, got locked up until he could tie a knot that the keeper could neither tie nor untie, and invented the knot that released him.
Perlorus is said to have been the pilot who guided Hannibal around hazardous Cape Faro, Sicily, in 204 BC, using a relatively new device to take his bearings. That device was an early pelorus, so named in his honor. Cape Faro was once known as Cape Pelorus, also named in his honor.
Grog is an interesting term. It's a beverage mixture of one part rum and three parts water, named for British Admiral Edward Vernon. Grog...? from Vernon...? Absolutely!
Admiral Vernon habitually wore coats and trousers made from a heavy wool material known as grogram. These he gave such good service that there was practically nothing left when he finally had to discard them. Thus, Admiral Vernon was known throughout the navy as "Old Grog". In 1740 he ordered the rum ration to be watered down, three to one, throughout his entire fleet. The concoction quickly became known as grog, because the rum was as thin as Old Grog's coat.
And have you ever awakened and found yourself a bit groggy in the morning? As you might guess, a groggy sailor was one who had just a bit too much grog.
Here's a term that, while a proper name, did not belong to a particular individual. Originally Jack Tar was a slang term and nickname for the ship's topmastmen, those who worked the highest reaches of the rigging. Eventually Jack Tar was applied to any deep-water sailor.
First we'll look at the "Jack" part of the name. Sailors in years gone by called each other Jack, just as we might call each other Mack. Jack was the name you gave to any guy you might meet in the street, until you knew differently. Aboard ship, that meant that Jack was a sailor. Thus a "jack line" is a line to secure the sailor to the boat in heavy weather, and a "lazy jack" is the system of lines that makes lowering and securing the sail easier for a lazy sailor. A "cracker jack" was the sailor who would fire the gun, and a "jack stay" was started out as a line in Jack's quarters that he would use for hanging his hammock, clothing or other gear.
As for the "Tar" part of the name, there are three sources. The first and most direct source was Jack's clothing. Tarpaulin was originally canvas permeated with tar, a distillate of pine pitch. Being waterproof, Its primary use was covering and sealing deck hatches to protect the cargo. Being waterproof, tarpaulin was also windproof. Being windproof, it was ideal as protective clothing while working in the rigging. Jack's clothes would sooner or later need replacement. As tarpaulin was easily available aboard ship, the topmastmen would ask Sails, the sailmaker, to make their clothing from that material. Consequently, all topmastmen would wear tarpaulin clothing when aloft, becoming known as Jack Tars from that habit.
For the second source, we need to look closer at that messy tar stuff. All rigging had to be periodically coated to prolong its life. For centuries, the very best material for the job was a pine pitch distillate that was imported through Stockholm, known as Stockholm tar. On deep water voyages, applying the coating of tar often had to be done at sea. This was a very dirty job. Imagine yourself as a deep-water sailor, under way, working your way down the forestay hand over hand, legs wrapped tight around the stay, and without any safety line. The bucket of tar would be tied to a line around your waist, with the brush in the bucket. The tar is hot, so it is soft enough to be applied with a brush. You work your way down a foot, tighten your legs, let go with one hand to reach the brush in the bucket, apply the tar to the forestay just above your other hand holding you to the forestay, and return the brush to the bucket. Then repeat until the entire forestay is coated. Once back on deck, you'd probably find that there'd be more tar on you than on the forestay. As all sailors had their turn tarring the rigging, all would have a turn at being covered with tar. It was quite natural to extend the term Jack Tar to apply to all deep-water sailors.
And the third source for Jack Tar? While the sailors disliked tarring the rigging, they were not above using it for a more personal use. Sailors rarely cut their hair, as proper shears were just not available to anyone but the officers. It was much easier to let the hair grow. But long hair would get in the way, especially when working in the rigging. They would plait their hair into a pigtail and dress it with Stockholm tar to hold it together. Thus a Jack Tar was a Jack who dressed his pigtail with tar.
While we're on the subject, dressing his pigtail caused a tar stain on the back of Jack's shirt. This was a problem on navy ships when he had to "toe the line" every Sunday morning. If his shirt was not clean, Jack would be assigned extra duty on his afternoons off. Jack took to wearing a sort of removable reverse bib. Since it was easier to wash a bib than the entire shirt, he could put on a clean bib over his somewhat clean shirt when he had to "toe the line". This bib eventually became the traditional large square collar on today's sailor uniforms.
Oh... "toe the line"? Every Sunday morning, conditions permitting, the captain of every British Navy ship was required to hold a formal inspection of the entire ship's company. The Marines had training and knew how to stand in a straight line. The poor sailors, a shoeless and generally ragged lot, made it a point to never get the concept. Or so it seemed from the captain's perspective. To get the sailors into some sort of order for the inspection, the mates would tell them to stand along a deck seam, with their toes on the seam. The command, often enforced with a rope end being snapped like a towel in a modern shower room, would be "toe the line".
Well, it looks like I've run out of room again and I still have more nautical terms that are the names of individuals. It looks like I'll have to finish this next time.
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