Yet a sailor’s life is at best but a mixture of a little good with much evil, and a little pleasure with much pain. The beautiful is linked with the revolting, the sublime with the commonplace, and the solemn with the ludicrous.

From apprentice in a crack full-rigged sailing ship to commander of one of the world's biggest liners is a long jump- one that covers much of the romance of travel by sea. In the eighties it was something of an adventure to cross the ocean; now it is little but a jolly holiday. Then people went because they had to; now they go because they like to. Then for the young sailor of the future always centred on beautiful sailing ships, long days in tropic seas, the shouted orders to clew up sail or man the lee fore-brace. Now his ambition is to wear gold braid and walk the deck of a luxury liner.

A busy life and a good one. I can honestly say I have enjoyed every hour of my long seafaring experience. If I could go back I should want to do just what I have done- and a man is lucky if, when the time comes to retire, he can assert that. So with confidence I say to the young aspirant for a captaincy in the Merchant Navy: You will have many worries, hard times and responsibilities, but it's worth it all. And, as the real inspiration for your life's work, remember you are a unit in a great service with hundreds of years of honourable and stirring traditions behind it. It's a grand profession.

To see! to see! — this is the craving of the sailor, as of the rest of blind humanity. To have his path made clear for him is the aspiration of every human being in our beclouded and tempestuous existence.

Okay, Mr. Kelley, everything looks good. We'll send this package to Boston, and you should be hearing from us in a few days." I thanked the sailor and walked out with mixed emotions. What had I gotten myself into? Was my dream of being a sailor and my desire for naval service, after many setbacks along the way, finally going to be realized? I could now tell my parents I had an opportunity to serve my country, and they'd be proud of me. I was ecstatic. Finally, a week or so before graduation, the door opened for me, and a path lay ahead. Life gave me a second chance, and I took it.

When I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the forecastle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from the schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.

What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about — however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way — either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.

When a sailor voyages in the midst of the sea, he watches the stars,

When a sailor overcomes crushing adversity, there’s a massive sense of accomplishment.

Sailing is an escape, it’s an adventure. As I kid I was always reading books about adventure, about being outside. It was always something I wanted to do and the first time I went sailing on my own, or went out with a friend, it was just freedom. No one could come and tell me, ‘Go there,’ or ‘Do this.’ It felt like a mini adventure just for me.

An alternative — and better — definition of reality can be found by naming some of its components: air, sunlight, wind, water, the motion of waves, the patterns of clouds before a coming storm. These elements, unlike 20th-century office routines, have been here since before life appeared on this planet, and they will continue long after office routines are gone. They are understood by everyone, not just a small segment of a highly advanced society. When considered on purely logical grounds, they are more real than the extremely transitory lifestyles of the modern civilization the depressed ones want to return to.If this is so, then it follows that those who see sailing as an escape from reality have their understanding of sailing and reality backward. Sailing is not an escape, but a return to and a confrontation of a reality from which modern civilization is itself an escape. For centuries, man suffered from the reality of an Earth that was too dark or too hot or too cold for his comfort, and to escape this he invented complex systems of lighting, heating and air conditioning.Sailing rejects these and returns to the old realities of dark and heat and cold. Modern civilization has found radio, television, movies, nightclubs and a huge variety of mechanized entertainment to titillate our senses and help us escape from the apparent boredom of the Earth and the Sun, the wind and the stars. Sailing returns to these ancient realities.

O to have life henceforth a poem of new joys! To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on, float on! To be a sailor of the world bound for all ports, A ship itself, (see indeed these sails I spread to the sun and air,) A swift and swelling ship full of rich words, full of joys.

As the son of a son of a sailor,
I went out on the sea for adventure.
Expanding the view of the captain and crew
Like a man just released from indenture.

I'm a sailor, not a politician.

You wait and you wait, you try to see things through the eyes of the enemy, and when it eventually happens it is all suddenly different. Many people at home believe their sailors fight for Kings and country, to protect their loved ones, and so they do. But when the guns begin to thunder, and the enemy is right there alongside rising above the smoke like the devil's fury, it is John who calls for Bill, one messmate seeking another, as the bonds of sailormen are stronger than symbols beyond their ship.