We trice our puddings...by and large - S. Maturin in "The Ionian Mission."

One of the great jokes in all of O'Brians novels came when Stephen Maturin, "practised" (made sport of) upon a fellow ship mate, a professor named Graham.  As they were talking Graham decried, "the nautical mind" which Stephen promptly defended by choosing a "faux ami" to put the pompous Graham in his place. So Stephen used this phrase to talk about "pudding."

"Puddings. We trice'em athwart the starboard gumbrils, when sailing by and large."

Proud of his new nautical knowledge, Graham repeated it at dinner.  Of course this shocked the whole wardroom with whom he was dining, and actually eating a pudding called 'spotted dog,' The saying brought a priceless response from them.

"Graham's surprise was nothing to that of the wardroom:

'By and large?' they said. 'Gumbrils' starboard gumbrils?' Jack's spotted dog hung in his gullet for a moment before he understood that someone had been practising upon the professor's credulity, an ancient naval form of wit, played off many and many a time on newly-joined young gentlemen, on himself long, long ago and by Pullings and Mowett on Dr Maturin in former years: but never to his knowledge on any man of Graham's eminence.

"Puddings we have sir,' he said swallowing his own, 'and plenty of them. There is a wreath of yarns tapering toward the ends and grafted all over that we clap about the fore and main masts just below the trusses before we go into action, to prevent the yards from falling; then there is a pudding on the boat's stem, to act as a fender; and the puddings we lay round the anchor rings to stop them chafing. But as for gumbrils, why I am afraid someone must have been practising on you. They do not exist.'

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before he wished them back: he knew Stephen extremely well, and that detached dreamy expression could only mean a consciousness of guilt.

'Unless,' added quickly 'it is some archaic term. Yes, I rather think...'

"But is was too late. Captain Harris, the Marine, was already explaining by and large. With a piece of fresh Gibralter bread and arrows drawn with wine, he showed the ship lying as close as possible to the breeze: '... and this is sailing by the wind or as sailors saying in the jargon, on a bowline; whereas large is when it blows not indeed quite from behind but say over a quarter like this.'

'Far enough abaft of the beam that the studdingsails will set,' said Whiting.

'So as you see,' continued Harris, it is quite impossible to sail both by and large at the same time. It is a contradiction in terms.' the expression pleased him and he repeated , 'A contradiction in terms.'

'We do say by and large, said Jack. 'We say a ship sails well by and large when she will both lie close when the wind is scant and run fast when it is free. No that is what your informant meant.'

'I think not, sir,' said Graham. 'I think you first supposition was correct. I have been practised upon. I am content. I shall say not more.'

By and Large

[Q] “Where does the term by and large come from?”

[A] It’s a nautical expression, from sailing ship days.

With by and large the modern landlubber means “in general; on the whole; everything considered; for the most part”. When you start to read up on the origin, it’s easy to get confused because dictionary editors and writers on word origins (this one included) have a lot of trouble understanding the terminology. With the help of books like William Falconer’s Dictionary of the Marine of 1769, I think I’ve sorted matters out.

Imagine a ship at sea travelling west. If the wind were blowing from exactly north or south, sideways on, it was said to be on the beam (the beam being the side of the ship at its widest point, usually by the mainmast). If the wind was blowing from any point in the half-circle eastward of the line from north to south, from nearer the stern, the ship was said to be sailing large. This comes from the idea of something being unrestricted, allowing considerable freedom (as in a fugitive being “at large”), because ships sailing large were able to maintain their direction of travel anywhere in a wide arc without needing to make continual changes to the set of the sails.

To some extent sailing ships were able to make progress into the wind, that is, with it blowing from forward of the beam. Those with good handling capabilities could get within five or six points of the wind (there are 32 compass points in a complete circle). In such cases, the ship was said to be sailing by the wind, by here having the sense of “towards”. If the ship were pointed closely into the wind, but with some margin for error in case the wind changed direction slightly, it was said to be full and by (sailing by the wind with her sails full of wind), or close-hauled, because the lower corners of the main sails were all drawn as close as possible down to her side to windward. If the helmsman by mistake turned the ship closer to the direction of the wind than it was capable of sailing, the wind would press the sails back against the masts, stopping the ship dead in the water and possibly breaking the masts off; in this case the ship was taken aback, the maritime source of another common metaphor.

You will appreciate that a ship could either sail large or it could sail by the wind, but never both at the same time. The phrase by and large in sailors’ parlance referred to all possible points of sailing, so it came to mean “in all possible circumstances”. You can see how that could have become converted in layman’s language into a sense of “all things being considered”.

From Dave McClatchey: http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-bya1.htm

Aboard at a Ship's Helm

Aboard, at a ship’s helm,
A young steersman, steering with care.
A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing,
An ocean-bell—O a warning bell, rock’d by the waves.

O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing,
Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.
For, as on the alert, O steersman, you mind the bell’s admonition,
The bows turn,—the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds away gaily and safe.

But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship!
O ship of the body—ship of the soul—voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.

by Walt Whitman

Meditations of a Voyage

Meditations of a Voyage
Unknown

The fish jumping in the morning light, like silver daggers flying.
The fluffy clouds in morning flight give way to another night dying.
The decks awash with salty spray, the sails are full and pulling.
Another sign of a tradewinds day and the "Morning Winds" keep going.
As the ocean reflects the Azure sky, and my long night's watch is past
The sailor asks the question why?
Why did I leave my loves to sail behind the mast?
This voyage around the world has taken me to unknown shores
God's greatness He has shown me, by opening my uncharted doors.

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound or foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell;
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The Set of the Sails

One ship drives east, and another west
With the self-same winds that blow;
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales,
That decides the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As they voyage along through life;
'Tis the will of the soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Paralyzed with fear...

"For the truth is that I already know as much about my fate as I need to know. The day will come when I will die. So the only matter of consequence before me is what I will do with my allotted time. I can remain on shore, paralyzed with fear, or I can raise my sails and dip and soar in the breeze."

- Richard Bode, First you have to row a little boat

Wit and Judgement

Less judgment than wit is more sail than ballast.

- William Penn