Sea Shanties and The Wellerman

March 2021

In response to the new global social media phenomenon of sea shanties sparked by the Scottish postman Nathan Evans’ rendition of The Wellerman, Dr Sam Willis speaks to Professor Gerry Smyth, author of a new book published by the British Library: ‘Sailor Song: The Shanties and Ballads of the High Seas’. They discuss how shanties were collected and annotated, how they were inspired by changing commercial conditions at sea in the nineteenth century and how each shanty has a fascinating history of its own. In particular they look at John Kanaka, South Australia, Roll Alabama Roll and the Drunken Sailor – which, did you know, came from an ancient Irish clan march…

  • View The Transcription

    Sam Willis

    From the Society for Nautical Research, in partnership with Lloyd’s Register Foundation, I’m Sam Willis, and this is the Mariner’s Mirror Podcast, the world’s number one podcast dedicated to all of maritime history.

    It’s approaching the end of February; I can certainly feel a bit of spring coming in the garden. But as ever, let’s start by turning our thoughts to the cold, to the stranded sailors are the whaleship Swan of Hull, she’s trapped in the ice on the west coast of Greenland in the New Year of 1837. Those poor sailors have survived the worst of the winter, but their trials are by no means over. The readings come from a transcription made especially for the podcast from the ship’s logbook held in the archives of the Caird Library at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

    Whaler Swan

    Tuesday 28th of February. Strong northerly winds, the ship driving south very fast having shut the weide-gate straits in with fore island point land since Saturday. A bear seen this night close to the ship. A 255-gallon shake, number 24, cut up for fuel. The land shows itself this day very distinct. Fore island point bearing per compass south-east distant 25 miles. Thermometer 30 degrees below zero. Latitude by observation 70 degrees by 25 north. Saturday 4thof March. Strong breezes with thick hazy weather the ship driving south. Middle and latter parts strong gale with a great drift of snow which has prevented our seeing any great distance. Forty-seven bergs were counted from the deck yesterday, some of them inshore of us and the others extending as the winds at our larboard quarter. Thermometer 14 degrees below zero.

    Sam Willis

    This week, it’s sea shanties. What on earth is going on? Those of you with an eye on the news and on social media will know that the major craze which has actually taken the world by storm (that’s not a joke; it’s true) is for sea shanties. It’s almost unbelievable. In fact, I think it is completely unbelievable. It all happened when a Scottish postman, Nathan Evans, his life changed overnight when he posted a TikTok video of him singing the famous sea shanty the ‘Wellerman’. It was viewed very quickly over 9 million times and sparked a huge trend with 1000s of different versions of the song appearing from all over the world, including some of the most famous names in music. Nathan then signed a record deal with Polydor and released the ‘Wellerman’ as a debut track and also a remix of it, which no doubt you will have heard on the radio. If you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, then just sit down and Google ‘Wellerman’ and particularly ‘Wellerman TikTok’, and you’ll see what all the fuss is about.

    The song is fascinating; it’s a well-known whaling song from the 1860s, from New Zealand. The song frequently refers to ‘Wellermen’, they’re supply ships owned by the Weller brothers. That’s Edward, George and Joseph Weller; they’re all English born; they had migrated to Sydney and then headed further east and in 1829, founded a whaling station in Otago near modern Dunedin, in the South Island of New Zealand – that’s a full 17 years before the first British settlement of Dunedin. So, these guys are real pioneers. From 1833 they sell provisions to whalers in New Zealand from their base at Otagu, which they named Otago, for the local Maori pronunciation. In its heyday in 1834, their whaling station was producing 310 tonnes of whale oil a year and it became the centre of a network of seven different stations all highly profitable. At Otago alone, they employed 85 people. But their success didn’t last because the colony of New Zealand was not actually declared until 1840, so the Weller brothers were treated as foreign traders and they were affected by ruinous British import tariffs on their whale oil. They were declared bankrupt in 1840, and the station closed in 1841. So, this song, long-lasting though it may actually be, refers to just a glimmer of time in the Pacific whaling trade around New Zealand.

    The song’s lyrics describe a whaling ship called the Billy of Tea and hunting for a right whale, and the crew’s hopes for a ‘Wellerman’ (that’s a supply ship sent by the Weller brothers) who bring them luxuries, they bring them sugar, and tea and rum. The song is particularly notable for its reference to tonguing. That’s the practice of cutting strips of whale blubber to render into oil. So, that at least is the great story of the ‘Wellerman’. And of course, you’ve guessed it, we’ve done our own version of the shanty, and here it is, it’s a bit of me, it’s a bit of Jerry Smith – he’s our guest historian, who will be talking about the history of sea shanties in a minute – and it’s also a bit of Jamie White our sound editor who has also blended the whole thing together.

    Sam, Gerry, and Jamie

    There once was a ship that put to sea/ The name of the ship was the Billy of Tea/ The winds blew hard, her bow dipped down/ Oh blow, my bully boys blow (huh)/ Soon may the Wellerman come/To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing is done/ We’ll take our leave and go/ She had not been two weeks from shore/When down on her a right whale bore/ The captain called all hands and swore/ He’d take that whale in tow (huh)/ Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing is done/ We’ll take our leave and go/ Before the boat had hit the water/ The whale’s tail came up and caught her/ All hands to the side, harpooned and fought her/ When she dived down low (huh)/ Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing is done/ We’ll take our leave and go/ No line was cut, no whale was freed/ And the captain’s mind was not on greed/ He belonged to the Whaleman’s creed/ She took that ship in tow (huh)/ Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, with the tonguing is done/ We’ll take our leave and go/ For forty days or even more/ The line went slack then tight once more/ All boats were lost, there were only four/ And still that whale did go (huh)/ Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing is done/ We’ll take our leave and go/ As far as I’ve heard, the fight’s still on/ The lines not cut, and the whales not gone/ The Whellerman makes his regular call/ To encourage the captain, crew and all (huh)/ Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing is done/ We’ll take our leave and go/ Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day when the tonguing is done/ We’ll take our leave and go

    Sam Willis

    Well, I hope you enjoyed that! A number of people were involved in that very entertaining project. And if you’ve enjoyed it, do send us your own version. I’d absolutely love to hear what you can come up with. Now for a bit of history. I spoke this week to one of our leading historians of shanties, Gerry Smith. He’s just released a book published by the British Library called ‘Sailor Song’ on the history of these wonderful maritime songs. Originally from Dublin, Gerry Smith is an academic, he’s a musician, an actor and a playwright, and he’s professor of Irish cultural history at Liverpool John Moores University. I thoroughly enjoyed talking to him, and I hope you enjoyed listening to him to

    Hi, Jerry, I think we should probably start at the beginning. What exactly is a shanty?

    Professor Gerry Smith

    I’ve been asked this quite a lot over the last couple of weeks, as you can imagine. The definition of shanty, that I’ve been working with, is basically a 19th-century work song that was sung on board the trading vessels operating between Europe and the New World, mostly in the kind of Atlantic theatre of operations. And it’s a kind of singing that emerged in order to facilitate the kind of work that was being performed onboard these large, wind-powered sailing vessels. So that’s the kind of definition of shanty that I’ve been working with.

    Sam Willis

    It’s quite a specific period of time this. I was reading your book talking about the 19th century when there’s an explosion of maritime trade, some might think that shanties are a lot older, could you just talk a little bit about how you narrowed it down?

    Professor Gerry Smith

    I think there probably are a lot older, we don’t have a great deal of evidence, there is some evidence that researchers have accumulated over the years, but it’s pretty scanty. And it’s not really until we get into this particular phase of maritime capitalism, that a kind of canon of work starts to emerge, that’s subsequently collected and preserved. And that’s how we know so much about it. But in terms of kind of singing at sea, you know, what one imagines, it’s as old as the species itself, as long as people have been going to sea, for whatever reason. But for one reason, in particular, in order to make the job easier, in order to take the task and the difficulty of getting from one place to another place, on the ocean, using whatever vessel that you happen to have, people would sing in order to kind of alleviate fear and boredom – in order to make the work go quicker. And perhaps also to kind of celebrate when eventually they got to where they were supposed to be going.

    Sam Willis

    There’s a real question of efficiency as well with the work. And so rather than just making the work go quickly, the ability to haul in time was crucial to be able to perform the tasks required of them.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    That’s right in relation to the shanty. Somebody asked me to interview last week, did other professions have worked songs, and I’m pretty sure they did, we know about kind of plantation songs, for example, we know about whaling songs, logging songs. So, the idea of singing is associated with a lot of professions. The particular form that evolved in relation to kind of these big ships required precision, required a team of men doing the same action at the same time, and utilizing the faculty of rhythm in order to kind of expedite that. So, the song would have a kind of underlying rhythm, everybody would know it, everybody would recognize it, and everybody knew that they had to do the same thing at the same time during the song. That’s what enabled the job to be completed more efficiently. That’s what enabled the ship to get from one side of the ocean to the other more quickly, and that’s what drove profits. So, that’s what’s peculiar about the shanty as opposed to other forms of work song.

    Sam Willis

    The example you give is ‘I sell brooms, squeegees, and swabs’, which I liked very much. Could you explain that?

    Professor Gerry Smith

    This was a kind of line that was given to the great collector Cecil Sharp, sometime around the beginning of the 20th century, when an old Tar (retired sailor) was trying to explain the principle of the shanty and he used this line: ‘I sell brooms, squeegees and swabs’, in order to kind of explain. Now you can take that line and you can kind of put a rhythm underneath it, you can scan it in other words as the poets would do. For example, you can do it in four over four-time, you go: ‘I sell brooms, squeegees and squabs, one and two and three and four and one and two and three and four and I sell brooms squeegees and swabs’. Now that rhythm is established, and everybody’s looking at everybody else and everybody knows that on the word swabs, you’re all going to do the same thing, then that means that that job is it’s kind of generating energy above and beyond that possessed by the individual units of the team. But you can also kind of you can do that same line in a different way. You can kind of change the emphasis for example: ‘I sell brooms squeegees and swabs/ I sell brooms squeegees and swabs’. So that’s a triple time, six over eight; so, you can sing a different song with a different rhythm, but you’re heading towards the same end everybody doing the same thing, at the same time on the word swabs, for example.

    Sam Willis

    With the people listening to this, makes you realize how important it is that you have essentially a conductor, not necessarily a man with a stick, but someone who is very much in charge of what’s going on who decides? How are you going to sing it, what you’re going to do when you’re going to do it. And that, of course, was the ‘shanty man’, how important was he?

    Professor Gerry Smith

    I think the shantyman was very important. First of all, for the reason that you’ve already mentioned – that to coordinate effort is a very subtle skill. The shantyman was somebody who was experienced both in maritime practice, but also in shanty culture. So, he would know the right song for the job of work at hand. And he was the one who kind of said, he was the one who would kind of identify the song, deliver the first line, and then everybody would fall into line. But without him, I mean, I think you use the word conductor, you can imagine an orchestra trying to play without a conductor. I think there have been some experiments with this, and it kind of works but really, the conductor is the person who kind of holds it all together. He’s the kind of focaliser, to use a narrative term. He’s the one whose vision as it were, makes the whole thing work and gives it a particular kind of signature and a particular kind of tone. That’s why the same piece by a different conductor, will kind of function differently and will be performed differently. So, it’s probably the same in relation to the shantyman, although less subtle, but a different shanty man will have a different tempo, he might choose a different song. And certainly, he will use different lyrics, because the lyrics of these songs never stay the same.

    Sam Willis

    It made me wonder whether the songs went with the ship or with the shantyman, whether there was a tradition which went along with each ship or with the person leading it, what do you think about that?

    Professor Gerry Smith

    I’m not sure. I think it’s more to do with the shantyman, and with the canon of songs that’s available. I don’t doubt that there were different versions of songs sung on different vessels. One of the things you find out about shanties when you start to kind of look at them a bit closely is that there are dozens and dozens of different versions of individual shanties. And I’m sure it was the same between kind of different national traditions as well. The French, German, Scandinavian, they all had versions of shanties, but they would all be kind of tweaked differently. So, the answer to that is I don’t really know, I guess it’s a good shantyman would have a canon of songs available to him. But people would be producing new lines and new versions all the time. Many of the shanties were taken from kind of contemporary popular songs; music hall or, you know, kind of popular songs, or sometimes art music from the 19th century. So, we’d have to come up with a new set of lyrics or a kind of borrowed set of lyrics in order to fit the melody that would that was now being used. So, it’s a very fluid process and a very fragmented process, I think. There’s probably no hard and fast rule to which one can kind of subscribe and say this is the way things actually were.

    Sam Willis

    One of the things that really struck me was your paragraphs on capstan and halyard songs, and I’d never really considered that there will be different types of shanties. I thought that was absolutely fascinating.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    I mean, for whatever kind of jobs were needed onboard the ship, the shanties were reserved for work. And the sailors wouldn’t sing shanties when they were off duty, they sang lots of other songs, they sang kind of ballads, and this particular kind of song that we call forebitters, that are referring to the part of the ship where they were sung. But when they were involved in all those onboard tasks, it kind of makes sense that because there are different kinds of tasks, different kinds of songs would evolve, to suit them. So, if you think about raising a sail, for example, these are big, heavy pieces of cloth, you know, very heavy and they need kind of a particular kind of energy and a particular kind of physical action in order to raise them. So, the song has to be of a particular kind, it has to have a length that gives the sailors a chance to get their breath and to retrieve and store their energy in order to get ready for the next action. That’s a different kind of performance from say, pushing a capstan around, raising an anchor, which is much more kind of a continuous, it has a team of men standing around a kind of circular device pushing on these bars, sometimes all day if it was a very big ship and very heavy ship. So, a different kind of song was required, because the actions weren’t exactly the same, they needed to be more continuous. You could even sometimes afford to sing four-line ballads with these songs that people were pushing at the same time and there was a place for them to kind of come in afterwards. Pumping is another onboard task that had kind of specific shanties attached to it. Sweating up, that’s that last little pull in order to get the last ounce of wind out of a sail. Holy stoning the decks, that’s cleaning them with little pieces of kind of holy stone. So, all these jobs had specific shanties attached to them. There’s probably a large amount of overlap, but nevertheless, that explains why different kinds of shanties evolved.

    Sam Willis

    I was reading recently, a wonderful little account of a couple (I’ve forgotten their names now, it’s really annoying), but they travelled around schools in the early years of the 20th century collecting playground songs sung by children. And because of their work, there’s now an amazing audio archive; they recorded them actually went around with a little early kind of cassette recorder. How were these shanties recorded and I suppose there’s a follow-up question about it in terms of how you can kind of recreate an authentic shanty where they’re just sort of reading the words and the music, you know, in any way you can recreate it?

    Professor Gerry Smith

    Well, if those collections were going on recording, it must have been at least the 1920s if not the 1930s, or 40s. Because recording technology just wasn’t up to the job before that. When the shanties first began to be collected in the 1870s and 1880s, people kind of went around and took it down by hand. And they would, hopefully, have some musical talent which would enable them to transcribe the melodies and to kind of salvage them. And they would take down the words so far as they could get them sometimes asking particular individuals to sing songs over you know, two or three times. As the kind of folk movement blossomed, the collectors got more dedicated, more professional, and probably more talented as well. So. by the time you get to people like Percy Granger, and Cecil Sharp, they’re very talented musicians who can hear and identify and remember a melody – probably only with one listen. The lyrics were more problematic. For reasons that I point out in the book that much of the time the lyrics that these early recorders were hearing were categorically un-transcribable for them; the lyrics were full of bawdy material, singing about sex, and all sorts of other things which the sailors were happy to, it’s a very kind of male environment, quite violent, and so on. So, they were singing about stuff that they were kind of happy with. But the collectors were hearing stuff that they weren’t happy with. So, either there was a kind of degree of self-censorship going on with the sailors, they would sing watered-down versions for the collectors, or the collectors themselves would change words that they heard. And the answer to the second or final part of your question is that it’s a kind of forlorn hope to try to identify a kind of authentic shanty, in that respect, because there never was an authentic shanty in the first instance, I think. There were songs that worked, and that people knew, in order to get the job done. But those shanties have never stayed the same in terms of their melodies, or their words, or their tempo, or any other aspect. The kind of category of authenticity is something that belongs to a different kind of, level of discourse, or a different realm of discourse. It’s much more associated with literary culture, in which we can kind of point to a novel and say, you know, that’s the novel that Conrad wrote, okay he may have revised it slightly here and there, but basically, it was written by him and it belongs to him, and we know the general kind of shape and content of it. Whereas the shanties were changing all the time; they were changing, you know, from work, from job to job, and from kind of moment to moment, from ship to ship, all the time. So, there was kind of the basic outlines of shanties in place. These were the ones that the collectors collected. But there was no original to which they could refer back and say, that’s the real thing, and this one differs in this way.

    Sam Willis

    It’s a true living tradition in the sense that, you know, it’s alive and alive things move, and they change, and they’re really, really difficult to pin down. That’s what I really like about this. You’ve got a little snatch of it, don’t you?

    Professor Gerry Smith

    Absolutely, yes.

    Sam Willis

    So, not only do we have this fascinating history of shanties in general, which we’ve been talking about, but each shanty itself is a wonderful story. And there are so many in this book, I just wanted to pick out a few which, I think, related to moments in my own personal history, which took me back to certain periods of my life. I’ve always been fascinated by sea shanties. The first one was, I listened to it on my 40th birthday, I was in a club in Bristol, listening to one of my favourite band called ‘Skinny Lister’. And they sang the shanty, ‘John Kanaka’. It’s brilliant. And I did not know this extraordinary story behind it, tell us about it.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    So far as I remember from the book, my research suggested that this was a West Coast American shanty in the first instance and that it was associated with the Hawaiian Islands. And it was probably sung by the stevedores and hoosiers who were loading and unloading ships in the port cities along America’s West Coast, San Francisco and the like. Kanaka, I think is a kind of semi derogatory term referring to Pacific Islanders. I’ve kind of found evidence of the same term being used in Australia, about their Pacific Island communities who were sometimes press-ganged into work, into land work in Australia during the 19th and early 20th centuries. So, it has that association. And it’s a kind of, your right I mean, I’ve never heard Skinny Lister’s version of it, although I know the band, but it’s a great song to sing. And it’s got that really fantastic underlying rhythm, which means you can have a lot of fun with it. And its typical shanty, it’s call and response. You know, “I thought I heard the Old Man say, John Kanaka-naka tu-lai-e! Today, today is a holiday! John, Kanaka-naka tu-lai-e! and so on and so on.

    Sam Willis

    That was wonderful. It makes you realize as well why it’s so good, I think because it’s got these slightly alien words. It’s got tu-lai-e in it, which it’s actually got, I mean, you’re right here that it might refer to something from the Samoan language and that links to you know, the west coast of America. It’s not just a random thing. That sounds nice.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    Yeah, I kind of changed it because of my Irish bias. I changed it to ‘tu-rai-e’, but the other researcher, Dan Heguel, who’s one of my main sources for the book, he says that it’s a term of Samoan origin. But of course, you’re absolutely right as well. I mean, these are just pleasurable songs to sing much of the time, the lyrics are, are kind of more important for how they sound and for the syllables that they fill up in the sentence, rather than – they don’t tell a coherent story. It’s fun to say ‘John Kanaka-naka’ it’s fun to say it in the same way that kids have kind of pleasure in just saying nonsense words.

    Sam Willis

    The whole history of kid’s nonsense rhymes as well is extraordinary. And they’re geniuses at coming up with words that are just super fun to say. Maybe sailors share a bit of that childish playfulness. Another one was, I heard this in Glastonbury at some point, I think in the early 2000s, and I was listening to Bellowhead and they were singing ‘Roll Alabama Roll’. I love Bellowhead and I particularly love their version of ‘Roll Alabama’, because so playful with the time. But this is a, it’s a more kind of a straight story about the American Civil War.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    That’s right. The confederacy commissioned a ship to be built that would harass the North’s trading ships, and they commissioned it to be built in Birkenhead and it was financed by Liverpool Capital. Liverpool’s a very important maritime city during the 19th century, very wealthy city as well. So, they commissioned it as just a kind of the sailing ship, the 292 it was called. It was launched down the Mersey, and once it got beyond British imperial waters, it was renamed the Alabama and became a ship of war. And it had a pretty bloody career for about two years in which it sank a lot of Northern ships all around the world until it finally came a cropper in Cherbourg in 1864, where it was sunk by the ship the Kearsarge. Interesting to observe as well that most of the crew escaped, many of them were picked up by a British MP’s pleasure yacht, taken back to England and the crew were repatriated to the southern states, where they went on to continue to fight in the American Civil War until it finished the following year.

    Sam Willis

    I should say that the great thing about Gerry’s book is that all of these stories are described alongside the shanties where you have not only the lyrics, but also the music as well. I’m looking at one here and this brings me back to Padstow in Cornwall, I was illegally in a pub, I must have been about 16 I think, and I was listening to them sing South Australia in the way that only folk singers of Padstow can do, which is usually done with about 50 piano accordions and a great deal of shouting. But this one is a super fun one to sing as well.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    My first exposure to this was the version by the Pogues, which I think was included on their 1987 album ‘If I Should Fall from Grace with God’. And it was supplied by a famous Irish folk singer that they had drafted in just a little earlier, a guy called Terry Woods. So, he’s saying that a kind of really rip-roaring version of it very fast and with that snare drum behind it, which was so typical of the Pogues. And then yeah, kind of found out a bit like you – kind of listening to people sing it in folk clubs and folk festivals, and so on. And I found out a little bit more about it. There’s not a great shanty connection with Australia despite the large amount of trade and traffic that there was between Australia and Britain for example, in the 19th century. But this is one that there is and it’s your right to fun want to sing when you get everybody. It’s interesting; I mentioned in the book that it’s probably one of the only few shanties that has references to both heaving and hauling in the same song. For reasons that I described earlier on, most of the shanties would either be solely heaving songs or solely hauling songs. But this one has a chorus of ‘heave away, haul away’ which is great. It’s just I think, it’s great fun.

    Sam Willis

    Let’s finish with the most famous one of all ‘The Drunken Sailor’ because you reveal some truly extraordinary facts about that because it’s roots, it’s Irish roots!

    Professor Gerry Smith

    That’s right. Well, you know, we said earlier on that these songs are kind of made of the bits and pieces lyrically and melodically from all over the place, so it wouldn’t be a surprise, I think, to find out many of the shanties have melodies that are borrowed from folk songs from Irish folk songs, sometimes English folk songs and American folk songs as well. This one is an old march from Gaelic civilization before the kind of proper fall of that civilization, and the onset of the kind of 17th-century religious wars. The song itself is ‘Oro se do bheatha abhaiule’ which basically means something like ‘Hooray, welcome home’, and it has a melody that you can hear. We all learned this at school while I was growing up in Dublin in the 60s and 70s. It goes: ‘Oro, se do bheatha bhaile/ oro, se do bheatha bhaile/ oro, se do bheatha bhaile/ anois ar theacht tsemhraidh’. And that kind of you can hear how that would have been picked up because it’s got that underlying rhythm, ‘what shall we do with a drunken sailor/ Early in the morning’, it’s a kind of modal tune – it doesn’t really fit into a kind of minor or major tonality. But again, it’s kind of great fun to sing, although if you look at the lyrics, it’s kind of pretty horrific really the kind of things that they’re doing to the poor old drunken sailor. They’re shaving him and they’re making him drink poison water and all sorts of things. So, good fun to sing, but possibly not as salubrious as we might suspect.

    Sam Willis

    Well, let’s leave it there Gerry. I’m inspired. I’m going to go and take my dog for a walk now and I’m going to be singing ‘South Australia’ as loudly as I can off the cliffs of Dartmoor.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    Fantastic.

    Sam Willis

    Thank you so much for talking to me today.

    Professor Gerry Smith

    You’re very welcome. Thanks a lot. Cheers. Bye, bye.

    Sam Willis

    Well, that’s it for today. I hope you’ve enjoyed this special on sea shanties. Do please follow us on social media. You can find the Society for Nautical Research on Twitter; you can find the Mariner’s Mirror Pod on YouTube and on Instagram. And how can you help? you can please leave us a review on iTunes. But best of all, please just sign up to the Society for Nautical Research @snr.org.uk. And your subscription fee will go towards publishing the most important maritime history, and towards preserving our maritime past. That’s it for now guys. Bye.

Category: