Literary sailing quotes

More from the incomparable Joseph Conrad

The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable waterway. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. A haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth.
From 'Heart Of Darkness'
 
MrB said:
I wish I was a fisherman
Tumblin' on the seas
Far away from dry land
And it's bitter memories
Casting out my sweet line
With abandonment and love
No ceiling bearin' down on me
'Cept the starry sky above
With light in my head
You in my arms
Woohoo!

Mike Scott 1983:)
Click to expand...

Excellent, I have all their LPs :)
Shouldn't it be Whooohooo-hooo



What about (I just came across a few days ago):

"There will come an age in the far-off years
when Ocean shall unloose the bonds of things,
when the whole broad earth shall be revealed,
when Tethys shall disclose new worlds
and Thule not be the limit of the lands."

Seneca, "Medea", Act II




Or Ulysses hailing his crew to continue past Hercules pillars, beyond the known world, be human beings and not brutes.
From Dante's "Inferno", XXVI. transl Longfellow (I learned it by heart when 15yo, impossible to forget).

'O brothers, who amid a hundred thousand
Perils,' I said, 'have come unto the West,
To this so inconsiderable vigil

Which is remaining of your senses still
Be ye unwilling to deny the knowledge,
Following the sun, of the unpeopled world.

Consider ye the seed from which ye sprang;
Ye were not made to live like unto brutes,
But for pursuit of virtue and of knowledge.'
 
"The sea does not judge a man by his wallet" - Roger Taylor

"It [British Weather] provides sailing aplenty for those who want it and a ready excuse for those boat owners who would rather stay in the marina." - AC Stock

"wind will change when you ask it, if you ask for long enough" - Slocum

"You do not ask a tame seagull why it needs to disappear from time to time toward the open sea. It goes, that's all."

"Damn the solar system; bad light; planets too distant, pestered with comets, feeble contrivance; could make a better with ease" - Lord Jeffery

"There is nothing so distressing as running ashore - unless there is also some doubt as to whcih continent the shore belongs." - Lecky's "Wrinkles in Practical Navigation"

"A man ought to rate his achievements only by the satisfaction they give him, for they will soon be outdone, outshone, and speedily forgotten by everyone but himself" - Tilman

"There is nothing so distressing as running ashore - unless there is also some doubt as to whcih continent the shore belongs." - Lecky's "Wrinkles in Practical Navigation"
 
The King sits in Dunfermline toun
Drinking the blood-red wine,
"Oh where will I find a skeely skipper
To sail this new ship o' mine?"

And also,

I saw the new moon late yestreen
Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we'll come to harm.

From the Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens.
 
Seajet said:
Dylan,
surely there has to be a space for this one, even Captain Kirk recited it !
" I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by..."
Click to expand...

I prefer the other version -

I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and the sky
I left my vest and socks down there
I wonder if they're dry

(Spike Milligan)
 
It seems that Masefield's original was:

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
All I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trip’s over.

See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salt-Water_Poems_and_Ballads

Must say I prefer the original...
 
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
 
Let go your lines and come with me
To the cathedral of the sea
There to ride on vaulted waves
And fear the gaze of gargoyle rocks

We shall leave the world behind us
Catch the ebb to take us northwards
And lie at anchor to the flood
While ocean’s blood flows past our hull

The organ of the wind shall play
Its power speeds us on our way
From the source we’ll drink the tonic
Nature’s gothic architecture

Shape our course among the islands
See clouds form on distant mountains
Sailing through the weather’s birthplace
Where angels chase through every wave

When at last we make our landfall
Come to rest along buttressed walls
Tied by warps to cares and troubles
Within our souls the seas shall roar
 
Seajet said:
Dylan,

surely there has to be a space for this one, even Captain Kirk recited it !

" I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

and all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by..."
Click to expand...

Sea jet of your going to quote kirk I always like "Second Star to the right and keep ongoing till dawn"..

Masefield I always preferred:
A Wanderer's Song
by
John Masefield

A wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels,
I am tired of brick and stone and rumbling wagon-wheels;
I hunger for the sea’s edge, the limit of the land,
Where the wild old Atlantic is shouting on the sand.

Oh I’ll be going, leaving the noises of the street,
To where a lifting foresail-foot is yanking at the sheet;
To a windy, tossing anchorage where yawls and ketches ride,
Oh I’l be going, going, until I meet the tide.

And first I’ll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the gulls,
The clucking, sucking of the sea about the rusty hulls,
The songs at the capstan at the hooker warping out,
And then the heart of me’ll know I’m there or thereabout.

Oh I am sick of brick and stone, the heart of me is sick,
For windy green, unquiet sea, the realm of Moby Dick;
And I’ll be going, going, from the roaring of the wheels,
For a wind’s in the heart of me, a fire’s in my heels.


Also West Wind - for when you have been away to long...

The West Wind

IT'S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.

It's a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine,
Apple orchards blossom there, and the air's like wine.
There is cool green grass there, where men may lie at rest,
And the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest.

"Will ye not come home brother? ye have been long away,
It's April, and blossom time, and white is the may;
And bright is the sun brother, and warm is the rain,--
Will ye not come home, brother, home to us again?

"The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run.
It's blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun.
It's song to a man's soul, brother, fire to a man's brain,
To hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.

"Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat,
So will ye not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet?
I've a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes,"
Says the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.

It's the white road westwards is the road I must tread
To the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head,
To the violets, and the warm hearts, and the thrushes' song,
In the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.

John Masefield
 
I like The Old Grey Squirrel.


A great while ago, there was a school-boy.
He lived in a cottage by the sea.
And the very first thing he could remember
Was the rigging of the schooners by the quay.

He could watch them, when he woke, from his window,
With the tall cranes hoisting out the freight.
And he used to think of shipping as a sea-cook,
And sailing to the Golden Gate.

For he used to buy the yellow penny dreadfuls,
And read them where he fished for conger eels,
And listened to the lapping of the water,
The green and oily water round the keels.

There were trawlers with their shark-mouthed flat-fish,
And red nets hanging out to dry,
And the skate the skipper kept because he liked 'em,
And landsmen never knew the fish to fry.

There were brigantines with timber out of Norroway,
Oozing with the syrups of the pine.
There were rusty dusty schooners out of Sunderland,
And ships of the Blue Cross line.

And to tumble down a hatch into the cabin
Was better than the best of broken rules;
For the smell of 'em was like a Christmas dinner,
And the feel of 'em was like a box of tools.

And, before he went to sleep in the evening,
The very last thing that he could see
Was the sailor-men a-dancing in the moonlight
By the capstan that stood upon the quay.

He is perched upon a high stool in London.
The Golden Gate is very far away.
They caught him, and they caged him, like a squirrel.
He is totting up accounts, and going grey.

He will never, never, never sail to 'Frisco.
But the very last thing that he will see
Will be sailor-men a-dancing in the sunrise
By the capstan that stands upon the quay....

To the tune of an old concertina,
By the capstan that stands upon the quay.
 
I think sayings closer to home are more meaningful. like:-
"Phew that was a bit rough". By me
" get me off this bl..dy boat" by the wife
"I hate you & I hate your damned boat". My wife back ashore
" I think I will set the boat up for single handed sailing". By me
" I have bought some golf clubs". By the wife
" I think in later years I enjoy my sailing more". By me
 
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onesea said:
Sea jet of your going to quote kirk I always like "Second Star to the right and keep ongoing till dawn"..

Masefield I always preferred:
A Wanderer's Song
by
John Masefield

A wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels,
I am tired of brick and stone and rumbling wagon-wheels;
I hunger for the sea’s edge, the limit of the land,
Where the wild old Atlantic is shouting on the sand.

Oh I’ll be going, leaving the noises of the street,
To where a lifting foresail-foot is yanking at the sheet;
To a windy, tossing anchorage where yawls and ketches ride,
Oh I’l be going, going, until I meet the tide.

And first I’ll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the gulls,
The clucking, sucking of the sea about the rusty hulls,
The songs at the capstan at the hooker warping out,
And then the heart of me’ll know I’m there or thereabout.

Oh I am sick of brick and stone, the heart of me is sick,
For windy green, unquiet sea, the realm of Moby Dick;
And I’ll be going, going, from the roaring of the wheels,
For a wind’s in the heart of me, a fire’s in my heels.


Also West Wind - for when you have been away to long...

The West Wind

IT'S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.

It's a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine,
Apple orchards blossom there, and the air's like wine.
There is cool green grass there, where men may lie at rest,
And the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest.

"Will ye not come home brother? ye have been long away,
It's April, and blossom time, and white is the may;
And bright is the sun brother, and warm is the rain,--
Will ye not come home, brother, home to us again?

"The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run.
It's blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun.
It's song to a man's soul, brother, fire to a man's brain,
To hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.

"Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat,
So will ye not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet?
I've a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes,"
Says the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.

It's the white road westwards is the road I must tread
To the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head,
To the violets, and the warm hearts, and the thrushes' song,
In the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.

John Masefield
Click to expand...

Onesea,

that's lovely.

I believe James T Kirk, when he said " Second star on the right and straight on 'till morning " was quoting JM Barrie, Peter Pan ?

Star Trek is full of wonderful quotes, as there's a lot of Shakespeare in it; " Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war ! " ( obviously spoken by the baddie, ST6 ) or of course the ' old Klingon proverb ' which has passed into everyday English language, " Revenge is a dish best served cold ", ST2...

There are so many wonderful throw-away lines from the greats like Miles and Beryl Smeeton, Knox Johnston etc it's hard to know where to start, even without poetry.

From John Guzwells' account of Tzu Hangs' first pitchpole approaching Cape Horn ( ' Trekka round the world ' and ' Once is enough ' should be mandatory school reading, it would teach some about really great people, not footballers and reality show contestants ! );

" B ( Beryl Smeeton, washed overboard with a collar bone broken ) raised her arm and shouted " I'm all right "

While she started to swim towards us I looked about me and saw that both masts were in the water and all smashed into short lengths as though they had exploded apart.

The doghouse had been wiped off at deck level and I noticed that both dinghies had gone.

The side skylights had been smashed and the lids had gone too.

I looked up and saw another monster of a sea approaching and thought

' what a bloody shame ! No-one will ever know what happened to us "

A few minutes later;

" Miles called me to give a hand at getting B. aboard. I looked at the ruin everywhere and thought ' I might as well jump in alongside her ".

Obviously they survived, largely thanks to John Guzwells' woodworking skills.
 
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…...“I tasted once again the greatest joy which small boat cruising can offer : the satisfying contentment of an anxious passage successfully achieved.”.....…

Eric Hiscock
Wandering Under Sail
 
The officers who are over-sure, and "know it all like a book," are the ones, I have observed, who wreck the most ships and lose the most lives.

Slocum.

Hardly poetic, but it's been stuck in my mind since I first read it.
 
thanks chaps

King Penguin said:
…...“I tasted once again the greatest joy which small boat cruising can offer : the satisfying contentment of an anxious passage successfully achieved.”.....…

Eric Hiscock
Wandering Under Sail
Click to expand...

I was out last night and came back to the forum this morning

some amazing stuff here

it is odd how some things really speak to an individual while others leave you stone cold

Dylan
 
...and a quote from the mouse breeder himself... (did he by the way???)

"The desire to build a house is the tired wish of a man content thenceforward with a single anchorage.
The desire to build a boat is the desire of youth, unwilling yet to accept the idea of a final resting place.”
― Arthur Ransome
 
By the storm-torn shoreline, a woman is standing
The spray strung like jewels in her hair
And the sea tore the rocks near that desolate landing
As though it had known she stood there

For she has come down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His ship sailed out on Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands

And it's white were the wave-caps and wild was their parting
So fierce is the warring of love
But she prayed to the gods, both of men and of sailors
Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love

And she has come down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His ship sailed out on Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands

There's a school on the hill where the sons of dead fathers
Are led toward tempests and gales
Where their God-given wings are clipped close to their bodies
And their eyes are bound round with ships' sails

And she has come down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His ship sailed out on Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands

What force leads a man to a life filled with danger
High on seas or a mile underground
It's when need is his master and poverty's no stranger
And there's no other work to be found

And she has come down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His ship sailed out on Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands

The Fisherman's Song
Andy M. Stewart
 
Drake's Drum

DRAKE he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships,
Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe,
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin'
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?),
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe,
"Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven,
An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago."

Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?),
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
Call him when ye sail to meet the foe;
Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin',
They shall find him, ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago.

Henry Newbolt
 
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