Seaman Manners (Round 1)
SCENT OF THE DAY: Nose Rest Day
Seamen Manners
Rigg’s Handbook of Nautical Etiquette tells us how “ladies and gentlemen” ought to behave if they are to make the yachting world “a healthier, pleasanter, and safer place” (5-6). The rules of conduct that H. K. Rigg lays out in his 126 page guide pertain to the various spheres of nautical life: ceremonies, flag display, use of lighting, boat handling, duties and attire of yacht owners and guests, foreign travel, and so on. In my review, I will defend four main points concerning the guide. (1) Rigg packages his handbook as a listing of truths standing forth to any experienced sailor with good sense. (2) The justification for some of his rules may be circular (x is proper because x is proper) (3) Some of the rules serve to maintain the status quo. (4) Obedience to nautical etiquette is important for giving purpose to the seaman’s life—and can even allow the seaman to bear, and in some sense escape, mortality.
One of the most prominent guiding assumptions behind Rigg’s Handbook is that the behaviors it prescribes all have a practical value either for preventing social turmoil in the yachting world or for preserving, and in many cases even enhancing, the social harmony of that world. Thus Rigg gives us the following rule meant to prevent embarrassing situations (a major concern in this book). “[A] good number of the younger crew members might be unable to afford to pick up the tab ashore at resort hotels or fancy restaurants. It is therefore a nice gesture on the part of the yacht owner to offer to defray some of these shoreside expenses” (56-57). Now, for an example of a rule meant to enhance the social harmony of the boating world, consider the following. “If you live in an area where you make frequent use of a certain drawbridge . . . cultivate the bridge tender, making sure that you identify yourself with your boat. This visit, plus an annual present of a bottle of whisky, a box of cigars, or the equivalent, will not only pay off in better service for you, but will create a better relationship between these public servants and other denizens of the sea” (92).
For more interesting examples, ones generally meant to keep sea-goers from being a nuisance, consider the following. The bullhorn should be one of the last resorts used in communication, and noise from parties, television, radio, phones, and so on should be kept as low as possible (65-72). Boats should be tied off properly so they do not slap in the breeze, and fish should be gutted and cleaned in designated areas so as not to “create an olfactory nuisance” (72-73). Pull into a marina slow so as not to rock the other boats with great waves since people might be, for example, below deck cooking breakfast (65). Make sure that hats are tied down by a chin strap so that they do not blow overboard, resulting in boat owners feeling the pressure to get the crew to retrieve them (75-76). “[I]f you are entertaining on board [at a marina], make sure that draperies or curtains are drawn and your activities confined as much as possible to below decks. Conversely, it is rude to peer through other crafts’ portholes or cabin windows or scrutinize other boats with binoculars in close quarters” (71).
Rigg, conscious of the assumption that his rules are grounded in practical utility, explicitly construes them as rational truths rather than arbitrary conventions. So when he says, for instance, that “[a]nchoring too close to other boats is another faux pas no good seaman commits,” he does not just leave it at that (65). He quickly indicates the rule’s grounding in sociality and safety: not following it “usually results in creating ill-will or a potential danger in the event of heavy weather” (65). And when he says “never fall for the hard-luck tale of the waterfront character who lacks a passport and is so desperate to get out of his country that he offers to work his passage” (102), he is quick to explain the practical value of the rule: “More often than not, these people have criminal records, and could jeopardize the safety of your vessel and get you in dire straits with the immigration authorities” (102). That these nautical prescriptions are a function of impartial and thorough consideration (rather than of mere personal taste) is stressed from the beginning. Commodore Clayton Ewing, the writer of the preface, notes that what differentiates Rigg’s Handbook from others is that it eliminates those “frivolous” and merely traditional rules, and instead focuses on the “useful” ones (vii). Rigg agrees. “These rules for behavior afloat . . . were the result of experience, which has proven that the water is a healthier, pleasanter, and safer place when the devotees act like ladies and gentlemen” (5-6). Rigg is saying, in effect, that his rules—well-grounded in experience as to what behaviors make the yachting world run safe and smooth—are truths that any sober yachtsman would have come to after years at sea. The benefit of this guide, then, is that it saves one from having to go through all the legwork and painful experiences along the way—a gesture of good manners, indeed!
Even though Rigg wants to distance his rules from the merely conventional, there are some indications that a few might not be that objective. To be sure, many are strong candidates for being what anyone with “good sense” would practice. For example, when breaking the champagne bottle against the bow during a ship’s christening ceremony, “the bottle should be encased in a netting or taped to keep people from being injured by flying glass” (39). Relative to the goal of ensuring the safety of nearby spectators, this rule can in fact be said to be the right thing to do; it is as secure of a hypothetical imperative as “I ought to take the SAT if I want to go to college.” In the next breath, however, the author states that the bottle should also be decorated with a braided ribbon, and even laments the slow dying of the braiding art (39). Surely the social utility of such decorative braiding pales in comparison to that of taping up the bottle. The braiding rule seems to be one of those frivolous ones that the author was planning to avoid. Is Rigg piggybacking this seemingly arbitrary rule on the preceding one, perhaps hoping that it will be construed to be as nonarbitrary as that preceding one? It could, and perhaps should, be said that such ribboning is a traditional practice, and so relative to the goal of honoring tradition, this is the objectively right thing to do. But this hypothetical imperative (one ought to decorate the bottle with the ribbon if one wants to follow tradition) lacks the force of the previous hypothetical imperative (one ought to do something to keep the glass from shattering about if one wants to help prevent people from getting injured). It lacks force because it is circular in justification. It is saying, in effect, one ought to honor tradition if one wants to honor tradition. (Such circularity is present elsewhere in the book. For instance, the preface author states that the problem of not acting in accordance with naval etiquette is that sailing areas become afflicted with “discourtesy” (viii).)
Rigg does include several seemingly non-circular rules of etiquette that do have a strong claim on what needs to be done for preventing annoyance. Here is a good example. “[S]ailboats are less maneuverable, slower, and more susceptible to wash than boats under power and [so] should be given as wide a berth as possible when being passed” (63). Even when the rules are at first glance more on the frivolous-arbitrary side of the spectrum, Rigg (reminiscent of Herbert in Chapter 22 of Great Expectations) makes an effort to show the usefulness behind them and, in effect, how they actually belong on the other side of the spectrum. Rigg complains, for instance, that US yachters do not obey the time-honored tradition of never using a boat name that has already been used (6). Some may take this rule to be petty and baseless. According to Rigg, however, they would be wrong. As is true of any form of “plagiarism,” using another boat’s name for your own could lead to discord if it is found out: violence at sea (6). Now, one problem here is that in a different community such “plagiarism” could be itself the proper thing. But one should be fair to Rigg. Considering the context of his work at large, it is clear what his response to such an objection would be: he is only speaking, in this case, for the yachting community of his day and nation.
I think these same sorts of things can be said to dispel the appearance of frivolity and arbitrariness of several rules in Rigg’s Handbook. Take the following, for example. “Facetious names are acceptable only for small boats or dinghies as they do not wear well and are not proper for a fine yacht, nor are contrived names made up of portions of one’s family names” (7). Moving past the fact that we have yet another apparent circularity (it is not proper to name the fine boat “x” because “x” is not a proper name for a fine boat), notice that at first glance this seems to be the epitome of arbitrary and frivolous. All names, after all, are contrived. In fairness to Rigg, though, his claim is to be understood as relativized to particular historical epochs and communities: contrived relative to the standard of the day in question. Still, how is it that this rule would stand forth as true to all with good sense? Rigg would say that a contrived name (contrived, of course, relative to a certain community) is jarring, weird, and thus mildly offensive to taste. Insofar as people with good sense are (implicitly) partially defined as those who care about not creating social turmoil or being a nuisance, people with good sense would thus—barring some exceptions, of course—follow this rule.
This defense aside, it could be said that the rule in question is in service of preserving the status quo and excluding the marginal. If the unusual is to be excluded for fear of offending, then in communities dominated by, say, white males (as the yachting world is), it is likely to be offensive, bad manners, to give a “fine” craft an “Afrocentric” name. Presumably Rigg himself would have found ShaNiqua an improper name for a fine craft. It is true that Rigg’s rule allows that in a community where Afrocentric names are the norm, using an Anglo name is bad manners. But the point is that this rule is in service of preserving the status quo and excluding the different, when the different is—for whatever reason (even from a perspective of racism)—offensive.
Although all of Rigg’s rules can perhaps be defended as useful for social harmony at least in some minimal sense, some of them are so intricate in detail that the main reason for following them seems to be just about keeping tradition. “On yachts [the national flag] should be displayed at the stern staff from 8:00 a.m. until sunset when at anchor or in port. When under way, it should be flown aboard power yachts at the gaff or, lacking a gaff, at the stern staff. On sailing yachts with Marconi rig, it should be displayed two-thirds of the length of the leech above the clew on the aftermost sail, or on gaff-rigged sails at the peak of the aftermost sail” (10). I get the sense that Rigg would say that such preservation of tradition is not a concern that is other to the practical one of maintaining harmonious social interaction. For if such and such is indeed the tradition, seeing it followed by your fellow seamen invokes good feelings, feelings of belonging. And not following it? At worst: rage.
Such a defense might be a bit in tension with the claim that this book attempts to trim the fat of the merely traditional and leave only the useful rules behind. The assumption of this defense, after all, is that following a rule merely because it is the tradition of the nautical world is, save certain strange scenarios, socially useful. Besides this point, there is also the issue that these very rules of tradition serve, one might argue, precisely as grounds for getting angry when one encounters another vessel not following them. Especially in light of several moments in the book where Rigg voices anger at certain practices in the nautical world “making a mockery” of the traditional seaman manner (6) (such as when he chides sailors too timid to go out in the open sea and live “the secluded life that is the principle raison d’etre for owning a cruising boat”: 70), it is not hard to picture Rigg’s jugular frustration upon sighting, for example, a powerboat whose national flag is flown elsewhere than gaff or stern staff. My point in bringing this up is that the very rules supposed to inhibit social discord make one, it could be argued, primed and itching, so to say, for outburst, for violence of some sort. (And perhaps this fact goes some way to explaining Rigg’s own rumored rages at sea.) Now, with rules that are useful not just because they are traditional, frustration at rule breakers does seem warranted. Since the decks of most boats are teak or some other material that is hard to maintain, Rigg—writing with a ferocity indicative of firsthand experience—implores guests to avoid spikey and rubbery heels, as well as greasy suntan lotion, because these leave marks (75, 88). Although it does seem warranted to get frustrated at breakers in this case, the same cannot be said when it comes to breakers of rules in place merely out of custom. For, unlike in the teak deck case, one would not have gotten angry if the rule were not in place in the first place! It could be argued, then, that having a rule of etiquette ready to mind that is grounded merely in custom is more a recipe for discord than harmony. (And one wonders, although I will not make much of it here, whether it is just a coincidence that the yacht Rigg is said to have intentionally rammed at port did not have Old Glory displayed at stern, even though it was daytime.)
I do think that Rigg can defend himself even here. First, since we are supposing that the person obeying nautical etiquette so dutifully is someone of good sense, it is unlikely that any frustration roused by the sight of another boat not following a mere traditional rule of etiquette will lead to anything serious. Moreover, a well-mannered seaman will presumably use good manners when pointing out the mistake. Such “schooling” of the other sailor on the basics of the tradition actually makes one feel good about oneself for being able to impart such information. Proving that one knows the custom so thoroughly that even the most nuanced of breaches stand out also serves to remind one about how genuine of a sailor one is, and—as any sci-fi fan dropping obscure references at a convention would know—this generates more feeling good. So although one might try to say that steadfast followers of nautical etiquette might be geared up to create turmoil when confronted by custom breakers, it is more likely, Rigg might argue, that such breaches actually provoke more warm fuzzies than cold pricklies.
This leads to something that stuck out to me in the course of my reading. One gets the sense that Rigg, and all those who take nautical etiquette—and perhaps all etiquette—so seriously are deep down doing so in order to put purpose in their lives and feel part of something bigger than themselves: a well-anchored tradition that will—with the help of their very efforts!—survive their individual deaths. Rigg never says this explicitly. But when I picture obedient followers of the most nuanced, and mere traditional, rules of etiquette, it is hard for me not to get this sense. Rigg does corroborate this indirectly when it comes to yachtsmen in particular. “Yachtsmen as a group are probably more religious than most sporting types, perhaps for the reason that the sea breeds fear and respect for the Almighty. Sailors are also unusually superstitious, which in turn has led to many of the rituals and practices connected with the sport” (37). Acting in accordance with the rules of etiquette, Rigg is saying, has a particular religious appeal to sailors, who are frequently staring down the abyss. Following rules of etiquette, even those that seem merely grounded in tradition, is thus important for social stability in an indirect, albeit significant, way. It fosters a womb of security and identity and solidarity that not only distracts participants from key abyssal thoughts (born alone to die alone on a blue ball careening through the void), but actually denies the truth of such thoughts. The idea is that while I, a particular seaman, will perish, the transcendent way of life lives on.
Reference
Rigg, H. K. Rigg’s Handbook of Nautical Etiquette. New York: Knopf, 1971.
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right)
