...There were certainly women on board many sailing ships: the wives of captains, who sailed with their husbands and gave birth, raised children, occasionally acted as co-navigators (logarithmic and sight-reduction pillow talk?), enduring bad weather and long isolation. the alternative was to spend a few months with their men every couple of years. The wives of whalers always had their children spaced three or four years apart, the length of a typical whaling voyage. There were also a few female pirates -- Anne Bonny and Mary Read were two of the most famous -- courtesy of the ferocious democracy of the nautical demi-monde. Some women went to sea on merchantmen, and warships as well, by passing themselves off as men. women were also present in a differnt sense: in the affections of sailors for mothers and wives, even whores (although the shanties seem to contradict that), or in the homespun, feminine details of life aboard -- sewing of clothes or sails; body ornamentation with jewellry and tattoos; meticulous, orderly stowage (even if it's for a survival purpose, rather than its own sake); the protocols of officers' meals in the captai's cabin...
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...At once, the seamen haul hard and fast on the main and mizzen braces-- Benjiman too hauling frantically, with all the diversion feeling less like dying, his nausea in abeyance. Yards swing round at the run, just enough momentum to bring the bow through, formast sails untouched, now aback, wind blowing into their forward side, helping the ship's turn; men getting the yards round and trimmed as close as possible on the new tack before the wind fills the sails-- to avoid hauling the wind as well -- sheeting fore and aft sails onto the new tack, hauling round the topgallant and royal braces as the main and mizzen sails begin to draw. The ship pushes ahead, waves helping now as they butt the bow to leeward, men belaying lines-- even the captains little dog feeling it, barking and snapping at the men on the poop.
"Let go and haul!" the mate hollars (original syntax respected...)
Of all fabricks a ship is the most excellent, requiring more art in building, rigging, sayling, trimming, defending and mooring with such a number of severall termes and names in continuall motion, not understood of any landsman, as more would thinke of, but some, few that know them. ~ Capt John Smith ...When he decided to go to sea, Benjamin never considered anything other than a sailing ship. He spent a few years in school; he worked as a butcher's delivery boy and later spent time as an apprentice carpenter. He liked working wood, and he had an easy coordination between hand and eye that made the saw, chisel and plane ride smoothly in his hands as he fashioned a dovetail joint, scarfed a repair or squinted and planed fair the curve of a bannister. All the time, however, he thought about going to sea. It was in the family and had been for generations. The little, walled harbour at Carrickfergus often drew him down to look at the trading and fishing smaacks floating there or dried out at low tide, the dour Norsman castle, with its English troops, shadowing him. On a clear day, he could see the Down shore across the loch and, in the foreground, the square-rigged ships towing in and out. Sometimes, he saw a wind ship run out under sail before a fair Westerly towards the sea, courses and topsails set, men aloft loosing topgallants and royals or on deck hoisting staysails. His family couldn't afford to pay to apprentcie him aboard ship, but when he was old enough to go as a hand, he took up the old family trade...
How many times on the moon when it turns does it need somebody
How many times when the sun on Earth shines does it need somebody How many times when the thunderclouds roar do they need somebody How many times when the waves crash ashore do they need somebody like you... I'm not a mighty mountain range with mighty peaks that pierce the sky I'm not a tropical hurricane with fearsome winds that lash the shore How many times when my heart needs to share do I need somebody How many times when my love needs to care do I need somebody How many times when the world lets me fall do I need somebody How many times when the pain makes me crawl do I need somebody like you... I'm not a mighty mountain range with mighty peaks that pierce the sky I'm not a tropical hurricane with fearsome winds that lash the shore I'm just a man and for good or bad that's all I'll ever be But I'm not afraid to tell the world that I need someone, Somebody like you There is no one Nobody like you "It Will Sail"
I think it'll float I think it'll sail We may take on waves, hit a gale but considering this love, most everything says I think it'll fly and I think it'll sing There's a cat on the bed on the bed and a leak in the roof and I'm pretty sure now that we don't need no proof We'll patch it on credit and we'll pay it on time Take the helm from me, sailor Take us out of here tonight ~Sarah Harmer I have big hands
Sometimes too big when I see them hanging out of sleeves Strong scarred Work wood well Feel wind and water through tiller or wheel Hold tight against flesh in an embrace sadly never endless Hold gently in another hand smaller softer sadly never endless I have a big heart Sometimes too big when I see it there hanging on my sleeve Strong scarred Listens to other Hearts well Feel the wind and water through adrenaline or peace Beats strongly against another in an embrace sadly never endless Beats gently against another quietly in rhythm with sleeping breaths sadly never endless I have a big mouth Often too big when I hear it there shooting first asking questions later It could do well staying closed more than it is open Take a lesson from the wind and water caressing whiskers or lapping toes Take a lesson from my big ears hear listen understand speak less to hear more from another's mouth sadly never endless To speak less through my mouth more through my Hands and Heart sadly never endless. when I use my pen
when I pick a shirt when I walk the docks ...or a trail when I lay on a hot rock when I see a goat ...or a chicken when I see the mountains ...or the sea ...or the sky ...or a pretty boat when I look at a pebble when I see a flower ...or smell a rose ...or the sea when I eat a noirette when I listen to the radio ...or ipod when I feed the fish when I water the plants when I see a blank canvas when I smell fresh veges when I smell good food when I see the sun ...or moon ...or stars when I think of the good in me ...or bad when I close my eyes ...and open them again when I laugh ...when I don't when I have something big to share ...or something small when I'd like a hand to hold "Blue Striped Shirt"
I found one morning an angel's hair, long and translucent and so near invisible, nearly straight but, with a curl at the end It rested near the left collar of my shirt, the white one, with blue stripes going North to South two buttons on each cuff, my favorite shirt Dancing for hours on the breeze of my exhalations til day's end and resting there still, on that shirt, in the dark of my closet ...don't try, it's better that way...
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Be Warned...
Mostly just streams of thought or snipes of 3am "inspiration"...taken to their disasterous conclusions... Archives
July 2012
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