How Illiteracy Shaped Seafaring Language

Anyone who has enjoyed literature and films portraying life at sea may have quickly noticed that the ship environment is alive with unfamiliar jargon. Words such as “bosun” and “stays’l” might fill the air, but upon looking in a dictionary, no such words seem to exist! The reason for many of the warped pronunciations (and spellings) of some sailing jargon comes down to the capabilities of the sailors themselves. For many, literacy was a boon available only to the privileged.

When a sailor didn’t know how to read, it was likely that they didn’t know how to spell, either. Thus, sailors needed to rely only on the pronunciation of a word as picked up from others. Because crews in the age of sail could be made of dozens of people from countries all around the world, these pronunciations were neither consistent nor always accurate to the words’ original spelling. Thus, some terminology shifted away from a 1:1 spelling to pronunciation correlation. For instance:

Bosun – An experienced sailor who is in charge of keeping the deck and exterior of a ship in good condition. The pronunciation “bosun” is a result of most crewmembers’ inability to read the word “boatswain” and pronounce it as such. Consider also the origin of boatswain in British English, where it would have been frequently pronounced “boat-swun” instead of “boat-swayn.”

Coxin – The coxin is in charge of navigation on a ship. Like boatswain, the original term is “coxswain,” which was shortened due to crew illiteracy and a reliance on pronunciation across cultures with different accents.

Further Modifications: Efficiency and Accuracy

In addition to literacy challenges, sailors also faced the roar of the sea and the ever-changing needs of a ship in motion. These factors influenced seafaring language with a focus on clear sounds, quick vocalization, and carefully curated syllables to accompany the working conditions.

Sea noise

When the hiss of the foam crashing against a ship is occupying most of a sailor’s range of hearing, it can be difficult to punch through with easily understood words. To effectively communicate with each other and to understand their captain, sailors gradually curated their language choices to options that avoided easily overpowered sounds, such as th, wh, and p.

Consider how much easier it would be to hear “heave” than “pull” due to the way the sounds are generated. The “ee” sound in “heave” can be expressed with a deep, powerful exhalation from the chest, while the “uu” in “pull” is formed at the upper back of the throat. This limits the amount of explosive noise that can be generated from the word, making it less able to carry across a noisy deck.

Speed and accuracy

In the heat of a storm or the tight spaces of a port, crewmembers must act fast to adjust sails and yards, man the helm, and perform other essential tasks. When time is of the essence, the fewer words spoken, the better. This led to the gradual development of highly specific phrases not found outside of ships.

Instead of something lengthy, like “push the tiller to leeward!” (that is, steer the ship toward the side away from the wind), it’s much more efficient to simply shout “helm’s a lee!” or “lee ho!” Note, too, how these words also have powerful sound ejections, with the capability of “lee” to carry a great distance far surpassing the quieter “tiller” and “push.”

In service of quick and accurate calls, almost all ship language omits filler words, including the articles a/an/the. Thus:

“Ready larboard” instead of “get ready on the left”

“Sweat stays’l brace” instead of “pull on the staysail brace horizontally instead of only vertically”

Syllabic rhythm

Crewmembers must be coordinated to perform effective work. If everyone hauls on a line at different speeds, very little gets done! To streamline this process, ships’ crews developed rhythmic language patterns used as needed to synchronize their work. This is most easily demonstrated with the classic “heave ho.”

Everyone stands in a line, holding onto a rope. One person, often the captain or another leader, shouts, “Heave!” Then, in unison, the crew pull on the rope, shouting, “Ho!” This alternation of heave and ho powers a synchronized workforce.

Cultural Contributions and Dropped Letters

The demands of sailing a ship were not the only influences that gradually refined seafaring language into what we know it as today. With ships made up of multicultural crews from Ireland all the way to India, plenty of words were sure to be adapted over time. One of the most common trends we can see arising from this melting pot of sailors is dropped letters, which, conveniently, also served the aforementioned need for efficiency.

Consider how in UK English, the word “foetus” is pronounced “fetus” regardless of the “o.” This type of exclusion is common in Irish, Scottish, and many other languages and was gradually assimilated into seafaring language based on the general demographics of many crews. At the same time, others whose languages did not typically practice this behavior added their own habits, such as use of the glottal positive (as seen in people pronouncing “mountain” as “moun’n,” which continues to occur today).

All of these factors came together to create many shortened words that became a staple of sailing jargon. Examples include:

  • T’gallant – The topgallant, or the sail found right above the topsail
  • Tops’l – The topsail, or the sail located above the mainsail
  • Stays’l – The staysail, or a sail connecting straight from the mast to the deck

This phenomenon can also be found in nautical terms such as “dog watch,” or the period between 4pm and 8pm that requires segments of the crew to add an extra two hours to their normal watch so that an alternating segment can eat dinner or rest. It’s thought that this term is a shortened form of “dodging the watch” (because nobody wants to participate) or, similarly, standing “dodge watch.”

The demands of the sea placed unique pressures on language to adapt. As time has passed since the age of sail, these gradual changes have continued to shape the way language forms and, eventually, falls out of favor. That’s why language always remains fresh and exciting!

About the author
Carrie Ott

Carrie Ott

Carrie Ott is a multilingual business writer, editor, and herpetoculture enthusiast.