A fellow named John Vigor wrote a neat book called The Practical Mariner's Book of Knowledge*. In that book he puts forth a theory about seamanship, which he calls Vigor's Black Box Theory. The Theory is that there is no such thing as luck at sea. Luck is earned by diligent and constant acts of seamanship. Every time the chart is double-checked, the turnbuckles inspected, the chafing gear renewed, the seacocks cleaned and greased, the seaman earns a chit that goes into an invisible black box, which is aboard every boat.

When things go wrong, and all of that seaman's skill and preparation have been taxed completely, chits are withdrawn from the box. The skipper has no control over their withdrawal; they withdraw themselves, as they see fit. Only the seaman with a good supply of chits has the luck to survive, because he had the chits to spend. But he had best start to replenish his supply immediately, because they could be needed any time, and the sea does not extend credit.

Because boat-related activities include such a very broad spectrum of vessels and waters, seamanship means different things to different people. Common to all definitions of seamanship is that it is inextricably related to safety that while a good boat, well-equipped, will certainly give its crew an advantage when things go wrong, it is the additional preparedness of the boat and the skill of its skipper and crew that allow it to come through unscathed.

No matter whose wisdom you read or how seamanship is defined, there seem to be three elements that must coincide to propagate seamanship: forethought, a set of skills, and equipment. The latter is the easiest to come by and is often mistaken for seamanship. The two former consume a lifetime to develop, and that is the reason that seamanship is an art.

Forethought

You may remember the grandfather in Peter and the Wolf. He angrily closes the garden gate to keep Peter in, asking, What if a wolf should come out of the forest? What then? We never learn if the grandfather had been a seaman or not, but he had the right mindset for it. Just as a defensive driver is constantly, almost unconsciously, preparing for situations that might arise on the road, so a seaman prepares for the unexpected on the water. He anticipates every eventuality he can think of, and takes the action necessary to prevent or minimize its potential damage to his boat and those aboard it.

Proper maintenance of your boat and all of its parts is one example of forethought in action. While one reason for maintenance is aesthetic, another reason is to ensure that every element of the boat is as strong, as sound, as functional as it should be. Cleaning, greasing, painting, and repairing all contribute to 100 percent operability of the boat. A boat that is shipshape in Bristol fashion is a boat that both looks good and operates at its full potential.

A seaman's forethought involves not only what is before his eyes, but also events that could occur. Some are simple and obvious: making sure you won't run out of gas, or ensuring that you have enough room to maneuver away from your mooring under sail, before you cast off.

It also involves a thoughtful approach to every task you undertake. For example, you've just bought a new pair of batteries, which you are installing. Are the old tie-downs or clamps strong enough to hold the new, heavier batteries? Will they stay put in a knockdown or after prolonged pounding? Are they high enough above the bilge pump so that they are likely to remain above water in event of a major leak? Fresh, inquiring eyes are used to re-examine the situation, imagine the worst, and prevent it to the extent possible. Toss a chit into the black box.

Checking the shackle that attaches your mooring pennant to the top chain isn't much fun. The pennant and the chain are both slimy and rusty, but to really check it the rig has to come out of the water. Do you count on someone else's presumed inspection? It would be easier to do so, but it won't help you sleep at night, and it won't do anything to protect your boat. So you bite the bullet, put on your old pants, and you do it because it ought to be done and because there's that unanswered what-if: What if they didn't check it? Another chit goes in the box.

Skill Sets

The basic responsibility of every skipper of every boat is to be able to operate his boat without endangering the boat, its crew, or other boats. For most pleasure boaters, that means 1) knowing and following the rules of the road to avoid collision; 2) knowing where you are, where you are going, and what lies in between, so you won't hit the bottom or become lost; and 3) understanding safe rules of operation of the boat itself, so that passengers don't get thrown overboard or injured because of the mechanical operations of the boat.

The knowledge required to fulfill these responsibilities depends on the vessel and the waters on which it operates. If your boating is only on inland lakes in good weather, and never far from shore, you don't need to know about quarantine anchorages, or be conversant in storm tactics. But the lake boater must still subject himself to his own set of what-ifs, and have the skills necessary to deal with them.

What if, for some reason, darkness should fall before you get back? It's a realistic possibility; you should know how to get back in the dark by compass, and have the appropriate equipment to do it.

What if you need to be towed by another boat because of engine failure? You should know how to tie a good, secure bowline, a square knot, and a sheet bend and know when to use which. What if a crew member should go overboard? If you're a sailor, you'd better have the skill to sail back to the victim.

A larger boat on larger water brings a much larger set of what-ifs, and a much larger set of skills to handle them. These might include celestial navigation, storm tactics, medicine, diesel mechanics, rigging repair the list is practically endless. Happily, the world's oceans are populated with thousands of thoroughly competent seamen people who have acquired the skills to master a very large number of their own what-ifs.

Equipment

All the forethought and skills are worthless if essential tools or materials are missing: mastering recovery of a man overboard may not help much if there are neither lifejackets nor a life ring. On the other hand, do not delude yourself into thinking that by having the latest man-overboard gear, you've got that particular what-if covered; without the boat-handling skills to safely retrieve the victim, you lack the seamanship necessary to do the job.

The Coast Guard has a list of required equipment that represents a minimal collection of safety-related devices. Most boaters, in fact, carry a whole lot of additional equipment that contributes to the safety of the boat, its passengers, and other boats: a tool kit, a VHF, depth sounder, spare anchor, foul weather gear, and much more.

Once again, the boat and where it is operated will do a lot to dictate required equipment. The captain of a lake or coastal cruiser might not feel any need to carry a spare mainsail or a spare alternator. A long-distance voyager probably would not leave without them. You must satisfy your own what-ifs.

There's More If your purpose is simply to operate your boat safely, the demands upon your mind and equipment might be small depending on your boat and operating waters. Even so, the art and the craft of the seaman can add immeasurably to the enjoyment of your hours aboard. Traditional skills like weather forecasting, decorative knot work, rigging, and splicing even modern skills like electronics and engine repair will add considerably to your boating safety and enjoyment, and enhance your connection to the history and traditions of the sea.

*The Practical Mariner's Book of Knowledge, International Marine, 1994

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