Sam Llewellyn writes nautical thrillers and edits
The Marine Quarterly. His 30ft ketch, now launched
Flotsam and jetsam and cruising, will (like all boats) always be a projectSam Llewellyn
O
nce, all seagoing actions
were accompanied by
singing. There were long
haul shanties, for pulling
in the miles of halyard on
square-rigged ships:
Boney was a warrior
Wey hey, yah
A warrior and a terrier
Jean François.
Then there were short haul shanties,
for use, presumably, trimming sheets
and braces:
When I was a little lad,
So my mother told me,
Way, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe!
That if I didn’t kiss the gals
My lips would all grow mouldy.
Way, haul away, etc etc
Then there were the windlass shanties,
also used for pumping:
Way, hey, here we go,
donkey riding, donkey riding.
And the slower capstan shanties:
What shall we do with the drunken sailor...
(though recent research by the slang
lexicographer Jonathon Green indicatesthat this was possibly composed by the
ladies of negotiable virtue known as
Portsmouth Brutes, and refers not to a
whole drunken sailor but to his
alcoholically-induced erectile dysfunction).
Not many of the above fi nd much use on
the 21st century yacht, equipped with
windlasses and plotters and whatnot.
Halyard shanty?
Grind ’er up boys
O she’s stuck in the lazyjacks
Bloody old full-battened main
Doesn’t really have that ring. Same goes
for the pumping or windlass shanty:
Automatic bilge pump
Fuse gone, fuse gone
Manual bilge pump
Jam up, jam up
Way hey the bucket boys
Way hey the bucket boys
Hooray for the RNLI
See what I mean? As for the capstan
shanty (tune: the Eton Boating Song):
By simply depressing this button
The anchor will rise to the bow
Oh, no, oh, no
What’s fouled the bloody thing now?Finally, there are the foc’sle songs, sung
by the watch below, which tell stories or
deliver instruction. A specialist subdivision
of the genre, the Sailors’ Alphabets, were
once a vital part of teaching sailors the
enormous complications of a machine
made of wood, rope and canvas.
Now things are simpler, and we can rely
on the RYA, it is perhaps time to devise a
new foc’sle song, the learning of which
should be part of every Yachtmaster ticket.
It goes roughly as follows, and is sung to
the tune of the Sailor’s Alphabet
popularised by the Fairport Convention in
the mists of the late 20th century:A is for AIS, here we all are
B is for sand, as in Breaking sand Bar
C is for Compass that we no longer use
and D’s for Depth sounder, and the
run-aground blues.E is for Echo, from the radar up high
F is for Freeboard, if you fall in you die
G is for Global, as in GPS
and H is for Hell, the saloon’s in a mess.Carefully, carefully
so caref’ly sail we
no mortal as careful as a sailor at sea
lifejacket and lifeline, liferaft and EPIRB
with a yachtmaster ticket, Lord, ain’t life superb.I is for Iceberg, not found in the Solent
and J is for Jibsheet winched in very violent
K is for Kedge, damn, we’ve lost it again
in the ruddy stern Locker, under four tons of chain.M is for Midnight, when it’s pitch bleeding dark
N is for Nausea as a tiger we park
O is for O hell as you wake for your watch
and P is for Plotter when the DR you botch.
Carefully etcQ is for Q-fl ag, to be used after Brexit
R is for Riva and the Rich git who wrecks it
S is for Sheet, let it out till she fl aps
and T is for Trim it, pull it in a bit chaps.U is for Ugly, but at least the thing fl oats
V is for Vangs, gas powered on fl ash boats
W is for whisky that warms up the blood
and X marksh the shpot. It’s a sandbar?
Oops thud.Y is for why am I soaked to the skin?
It must be these breathable oilskins I’m in
Z is for zero, 360, due north
And now we have learned all this, we’ll sally forthCarefully etc
Learn it by heart, sing it loud in your
personal foc’sle, and the ticket’s as good
as yours. Maybe.Wey hey, Yah!
High tech boat handling techniques demand
an updated songbook of new sea shanties
G
eorge^Crui
kshank/ThePictureArt^C
olle
ctio
n/AlamyFoc’sle shanties can be
handy for Yachtmaster
candidates