Showing posts with label davy jones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label davy jones. Show all posts

Friday, June 17, 2016

Sailors Don’t Clink Glasses – Navy Superstition

NAVY SUPERSTITION  WHY SAILORS NEVER CLINK GLASSES
Navy Customs and Traditions
By
VIKRAM KARVE

At the start of a party or drinking session  Civilians or Pongos may clink their glasses and say “Cheers” – and then start drinking!!! 

But – you may notice that a Naval Officer does not clink glasses  but he will just hold up his glass in his hand  and say “Cheers” followed by a toast.

Sailors don’t clink glasses.

Here is the reason for this Naval Custom (or you may call it a Navy Superstition): 


WHY NAVAL OFFICERS NEVER CLINK GLASSES WHILE MAKING A TOAST

Most people clink glasses when they meet over a drink and make a toast for good luck and good health.

However  Naval Officers never clink glasses when they make a toast. 

They just hold up their glasses and say “Cheers” – and voice the toast.

The reason for this is as follows.

In the early days of seafaring  many years ago – when a sailor died at sea  his body was buried at sea  committed to the deep waters  to the Davy Jones’s Locker at the bottom of the ocean. 

(This practice of consigning a dead sailor’s body to the sea is followed even now by some navies and in case it is not possible to send the deceased sailor’s body back for last rites)

The ship’s bell would be sounded 8 times as a mark of respect to the departed soul of the deceased mariner during the funeral service for burial at sea.

On a ship at sea  8 bells are sounded at the end of a watch.

The 8 bells sounded at the funeral of the sailor signified “End of the Watch” for the dead sailor.

This the striking of “Eight Bells” (a nautical euphemism for “finished watch”) during burial at sea symbolized the obituary of the dead seaman.

The sounding of 8 bells was a way of pronouncing that the dead sailor’s duty watch was finished forever.

The sound of clinking glasses is similar to the solemn toll of the ship’s bell when the body of a dead sailor was committed to the deep sea.

Thus  it was assumed that the clinking sound will herald the death of a sailor.

Hence  clinking of glasses on board ships was considered a bad omen.

There was another superstition to lessen the gravity of the evil portent  in case a sailor inadvertently clinked his glass by mistake.

The sailor quickly silenced a clink that had mistakenly occurred with his hands  or he quickly clinked a second time. 

It was thought that this would confuse the devil enough so that he might take a soldier instead.

So  if you are in the Navy  it is best not to clink your glass.

And  if by mistake  you clink your glass  remember to quickly clink it a second time.

Of course  this is all a myth  a navy superstition.

But  the next time you see someone reluctant to clink his glass  you know that he is a navy officer, sailor or veteran.

Cheers !!!

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 
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Disclaimer:
All Stories in this Blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Thursday, March 1, 2012

The Davy Jones’ Locker - THE SEAMAN AND HIS DIARY


One of my new readers, Seema, feels that my stories a bit too long to read on the net. Thanks for your feedback, Seema. I agree. Blogging is different from writing. Whereas longish stories may be okay to read on paper, on the screen it is brevity that is important. So for a change, here is some flash fiction, a story I wrote for a flash fiction competition quite long ago. The theme of the flash fiction competition was "diary" - so here is my story about a Seaman and His Diary

FLASH FICTION 
The Davy Jones’ Locker  
By
VIKRAM KARVE

THE SEAMAN AND HIS DIARY

A freak accident. A ghastly death. A gruesome sight.

The young seaman fell off the ship’s towering main mast, his body somersaulting, tossed around by superstructures and bulkheads, till it lay mangled on the deck, neck broken, skull smashed.

At sunset we consigned him to the Davy Jones’ Locker at the bottom of the sea to Rest in Peace. RIP.

I rummaged through the sailor’s belongings and found his journal, a diary he wrote daily. I read his diary.

It is extraordinary how close you can be to a man and how little you can know about him.

I knew he was married but I had never realized how deeply he loved his wife.

I sealed the dead seaman’s belongings in a kitbag. Yes, I packed all his belongings, everything, except his diary.

This diary I would hand over personally to his wife, and try my best to alleviate her distress, the next time we berthed at Mumbai.

I owed it to dead seaman, and to his widow, for it was I who had sent him up the main mast to repair the light, while the ship was rolling and pitching in the treacherous North Atlantic.

The moment we berthed in Mumbai harbour, at the first available opportunity, I went ashore to make the condolence call on the bereaved widow.

My shipmates waited for me on board when I went to make the condolence call.

The moment I returned they all asked me anxiously, “What happened? You found the place?”

“Yes. I found the house and paid our condolences to the bereaved wife.”

Suddenly they all started speaking together, “His wife… widowed so young…poor thing…so unlucky…such a pity…so sad…tell us…tell us…how has she taken it…what was she doing?”

“She was in bed,” I said.

“In bed? Oh My God…she’s still bedridden with grief…?” they all said.

“She’s not bedridden with grief,” I said.

“What?” they all exclaimed in chorus, and then a cacophony of voices, “lying ill in bed for three months…what happened…accident…fracture…heart attack…stroke…depression…shock…”

“Please! Please!” I interrupted loudly raising my finger, “She is not ill, she has not had an accident, heart attack, stroke, nothing, she is not in distress, she has not taken it badly at all. In fact she has taken it rather well. She wasn’t alone in bed when I suddenly reached her house early in the morning – she was in bed with someone else.”

“What? Impossible…tell us…what happened…tell us…”

“What is there to tell?” I said, “I went to the address written in his diary, but she’s shifted to a swanky apartment in Malabar Hill…”

“She must have bought it with the insurance money…” someone piped up.

“I rang the doorbell. She opened the door, dressed in a flimsy nightie. I told her who I was,” I said. 

Then what happened? they all asked together, curious. 

She invited me in, when suddenly a man’s voice called her from inside the bedroom:
hey sweetie pie, what are you doing out there? Come back to bed fast, I’m getting cold’ 
and she said to him:
‘someone has come ... a shipmate...’ 
and the man inside shouted back to her:
‘just tell him to get lost, tell him to vamoose, just tell him to disappear...’ 
So I bid her good bye.and came back right here,” I said.

“Bloody hell…two-timing bitch…maybe the seaman knew all about it…maybe he didn’t fall off the mast accidentally...maybe he intentionally jumped off…poor guy…” there was a cacophony of voices, and then they asked me, “his diary, the dead seaman's diary, did you give it to her?” 

“No,” I said, I threw his diary into the sea, into the Davy Jones’ Locker. To join him down there at the bottom of the sea. May they both Rest in Peace, the seaman and his diary. RIP.” 


VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2012
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.


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About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and he is currently working on his novel. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts. 


Vikram Karve Academic and Creative Writing Journal: http://karvediat.blogspot.com
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Email: vikramkarve@sify.com        

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.