According to an ancient Scottish legend, later turned into verse by Robert Burns (1759-1796, also the author of Auld Lang Syne and the quote about "the best laid schemes of mice and men"), a farmer named Tam O'Shanter was riding his gray mare home one stormy night when, as lightning blazed he saw a bevy of witches dancing in a churchyard.
Most were old and ugly but one was young, lovely and graceful and dressed provocatively in a cutty sark (Scottish dialect for short chemise). Tam reined in his mare and paused to watch the beautiful witch as she danced. Overcome with admiration he cried out: "Well done, Cutty Sark!".
Instantly the lightning ceased and the churchyard was blotted out by darkness. Tam, terrified, spurred his horse and raced homeward with the witches in close pursuit.
For a moment it appeared that he was done for; the nimble witch came close enough to seize his horse by the tail. But the horse pulled free leaving its tail in the witch's hand and Tam rode to safety across the bridge that spanned the river Doon; the witches, it seems, could not cross water.
No one knows precisely what aspect of this tale prompted Jock Willis, a Scotsman and one of the leading shippers of 19th century London, to choose the name Cutty Sark for the tea clipper he commissioned in 1869 but the figurehead was (and still is) that of the witch with an outstretched left arm clutching a remnant of the horse's tail.
Thar she blows!
IT WAS the good ship Mozambique, Cap'n Symes commandin', his name bein' the same as mine but no kin, thank God. We wuz four months an' twenty days out o' New Bedford an' not a drop o' ile in the tanks. I'm standin' my watch when the man aloft calls out, "Thar she blows!"
"Where away?" sez I.
"Four points off the starboard quarter," sez he.
An' I goes aft.
"Cap'n Symes," I sez "thar she blows."
"Where away?" sez he.
"Four points off the starboard quarter," sez I. "Shall we lower away?"
Cap'n Symes sez, "It's blowin' right too pert. 'Tain't fitten fer to lower. Go for'ard an' stan' yer watch!"
An' I goes for'ard. Purty soon the man aloft calls out, "Thar she blows and spouts!"
An' I goes aft. An' I sez, "Cap'n Symes, thar she blows and spouts. Shall we lower away?"
Cap'n Symes sez, "I tole you once and I tell ya twice. By the left hind leg o' the Lamb o' God, it's blowin' right too pert, an' 'tain't fitten fer to lower. Go for'ard an' stan' yer watch!"
An' I goes for'ard. Purty soon the man aloft calls out, "Thar she blows an' spouts, an' breaches an' bellows!"
An' I goes aft. "Cap'n Symes" I sez, "thar she blows an' spouts, an' breaches an' bellows. Shall we lower away?"
Cap'n Symes sez, "I tole you once and I tole ya twice and I tell ye three times. By the twenty-three legs of the Twelve Apostles, it's blowin' right too pert an' 'tain't fitten fer to lower. Go for'ard an' stan' yer watch."
An' I goes for'ard. Purty soon the man aloft calls out, "Thar she blows an' spouts, an' breaches an' bellows, an' a sparm at that!"
An' I goes aft. "Cap'n Symes" I sez, "thar she blows an' spouts, an' breaches an' bellows, an' a sparm at that. Shall we lower away?"
Cap'n Symes sez, "By the forty-eight fat-cheeked Cherubim that flutter 'round the thrice-sanctified throne of the thrice sanctified Christ, it's blowin' right too pert an' 'tain't fitten fer to lower. But if yew want to lower, lower away an' be damned!"
Well, we chased that whale through the first watch an' 'long about eight bells we come alongside and I sez to the men in the boat, "shall I let 'er have the long dart?" An' they sez, "sock it to 'er." An' I socked it to 'er an' it tuk! Well sir, when we cut that whale up we took out eighty-six bar'ls o' the finest sparm ile an' forty eight pounds o' ambergris.
That night I'm down in the fo'c'sle when Cap'n Symes comes down the lee gangway an' he sez to me, "Mr. Symes," he sez, "you're the best man out o' New Bedford with the long dart. Down in my cabin there's a box of fine Hay-vana seegars and a case o' Jee-maica rum. They're yours for the rest o' the v'ige."
"Cap'n Symes, sir," I sez. "I don't want none o' yer fine Hay-vana seegars an' I don't want none o' yer Jee-maica rum. Al I want out o' yew, Cap'n Symes sir, is a little Christian civility -- an' goddamned little o' that."