The Klabautermann: The Hidden Carpenter of the Ship and the Rule That He Is Seen Only Once
The sailors of the Baltic and the North Sea, who trusted no man entirely and no weather at all, nevertheless shipped one crew member on pure faith. He appeared on no muster-roll and drew no wages in coin; he stood no watch that the mate could inspect; and yet the old hands would tell you, in the smoky forecastles of the timber-brigs and the Hamburg traders, that he was the hardest-working soul aboard. He was the Klabautermann : the ship's own spirit—a little man in sailor's clothes, red or yellow jacket, tarpaulin hat or red cap, pipe in his teeth and a caulking hammer in his fist—who lived in the dark of the hold, under the windlass, or inside the very timber of the hull, and who spent his nights doing the one thing that keeps wooden ships and living souls afloat: maintenance . Through the dog-watches the men heard him at it—the knocking, tapping, hammering deep in the hull that gave him his name, from the Low German klabastern , to rumble and knock, or from kalfatern , to c...