Storm Warnings and Sailor Signs: Maritime Superstitions of the Eastern Shore

      _By Tiffany Amber Stockton

Before the Coast Guard, and before life insurance, there was the Church.

Folklore and Belief Mixed Together

If you grow up around open water, you learn early that it has a personality. It doesn’t answer to schedules, and it certainly doesn’t care about your plans. Long before weather radar and storm tracking maps, the watermen who worked around Chincoteague Island and the broader Eastern Shore of Virginia relied on something far less scientific. They lived their lives by observation, experience, and a collection of sailor signs passed down through generations.

Some of those signs were practical. Others bordered on superstition. Most were a little of both.

One of the most repeated bits of coastal wisdom is an old rhyme. You've probably heard it. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor take warning.” That wasn’t folklore pulled from thin air. It reflected real weather patterns moving west to east. But to watermen heading out before sunrise, it was enough of a warning for them to decide whether to stay tied to the dock or head out to sea.

Superstitions and Stories

Then there were the taboos.

• Whistling on a boat was said to “whistle up the wind.”
• Renaming a vessel without ceremony invited disaster.
• Women on a boat brought bad luck.
• Bananas aboard ship were considered bad luck (they got them at the docks).
• Certain days were thought unlucky for setting out.

And these beliefs didn't just exist on tall ships or in far-off oceans. They lived right along the Virginia coast. The waters off Assateague and Chincoteague were notorious for shoals and sudden storms. Before the Coast Guard established modern rescue systems, a mistake or misreading of the sky could mean a wreck.

There are dozens upon dozens of documented shipwrecks dotting the history of this region. Newspaper reports from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries frequently described vessels "driven aground during nor’easters," their crews rescued by local surfmen or sometimes lost entirely. The U.S. Life-Saving Service, which later became part of the Coast Guard, maintained stations along Assateague precisely because the waters were so treacherous.

When people aren't certain about survival, they look for patterns. For some semblance of control.

The Source of Their Strength

At the same time, Eastern Shore communities were deeply rooted in church life. Psalm 107 is a powerful song of thanksgiving celebrating God’s enduring mercy and deliverance. Verses 23-30 address "those who go down to the sea in ships…” This passage was often read in maritime congregations. Bells tolled after wrecks. Prayer meetings gathered when storms threatened. Faith and folklore existed side by side as equal attempts to make sense of the unknown.

I remember childhood visits to the island and the stories spun in Pop-Pop’s barbershop. He had a way of blending fact and imagination so seamlessly that my brother and I never questioned which was which. In those tales, storms always rolled in dramatically. There was definitely a fanciful aspect to his storytelling. The sea always tested us. And somehow, through grit and cleverness, the hero (almost always Pop-Pop himself) brought us home.

But despite hearing stories, I could tell there was an element of truth underneath all the embellishment. Coastal life has always required respect for the forces bigger than life itself. Whether a man crossed himself before casting off lines or quietly studied the sky for signs of change, he understood that once the dock disappeared behind him, certainty did too.

Generational Traditions

Superstitions may sound quaint when you hear them now. They might even seem humorous. But in them, you learn something important about the people who held them. They were observant. Cautious. Aware that they couldn't afford to make mistakes, that their lives depended on them being alert at all times.

Today, modern forecasts tell us what satellites see hundreds of miles away. Boats are equipped with GPS and radios that early watermen couldn’t have even imagined. And yet, if you spend enough time around working docks, you’re bound to still hear some of those old sayings repeated.

Tradition carries weight. The sea hasn’t changed its temperament. It still demands humility. Maybe that’s why those sailor signs endure. They're reminders passed from one generation to the next to pay attention, respect the water, and never assume you’re in charge.

NOW IT'S YOUR TURN:

* Have you ever heard maritime superstitions or weather sayings passed down from anyone?

* Why do you think coastal communities held so tightly to sailor signs and traditions?

* Do you know of similar “rules” or sayings in other professions that are grounded in lore?

Leave answers to these questions or any comments on the post below.

** This note is for our email readers. Please do not reply via email with any comments. View the blog online and scroll down to the comments section.

Come back on the 9th of each month for my next foray into historical tidbits to share.

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BIO

Tiffany Amber Stockton has embellished stories since childhood, thanks to a very active imagination and notations of talking entirely too much. Honing those skills led her to careers as an award-winning and best-selling author and speaker, while also working as a professional copywriter/copyeditor. She loves to share life-changing products and ideas with others to help them get rooted in truth and live a life of purpose.

Currently, she lives with her husband and fellow author, Stuart Vaughn Stockton, along with their two children, and five cats in southeastern Kentucky. In her 20+ years as a professional writer, she has sold twenty-six (26) books so far and has agent representation with Tamela Murray of the Steve Laube Agency. You can find her on Facebook and GoodReads. She also rebooted her longtime blog and is looking to expand her content creation to Instagram and Twitter this year.