Nautical affairs have contributed a huge number of words to English over the centuries. If you define “nautical affairs” broadly enough, that would include ships, sailors’ jargon, and even books and stories set in seagoing contexts.
Patrick O’Brian wrote historical novels set on 18th century British naval ships, so his works certainly qualify. The books are said to be pretty accurate, even down to details of how naval surgeons of the time would have conducted medicine. One of the main recurring characters is Dr. Stephen Maturin, so the books have plenty of opportunity to introduce medical scenarios. In The Letter of Marque, Maturin says this (he’s explaining the effects of laudanum):
“Presently, with the blessing, you will see Padeen’s face return to its usual benevolent mansuetude…”
“Mansuetude” is the whole point of this citation, of course. It’s not a nautical term per se; it means “gentleness.” It comes from two Latin words: “manus” (hand) and “suetus” (accustomed). In Latin these were combined to form “mansuetus,” which meant “tamed.” The idea seems to be that a tamed animal is accustomed to people’s hands.
The word “mansuetude” is pretty obscure, but it’s still in a certain amount of use. For one thing, O’Brian’s books were written within just the past few decades; so they’re not that old. Another example is the Boston Globe, which included the word in a music review in 2004. But since O’Brian’s books used it before that, I’m counting “mansuetude” as at least slightly connected to “nautical affairs.
Another example of a word with a nautical connection is even more obscure, but at least it’s so obviously nautical that it’s probably leaving a puddle on the floor under your computer desk. It’s “mallemaroking” — which is a kind of partying. Not just partying by just anybody, mind you, but partying by sailors. And not just any sailors, but sailors on whaling ships. And not even just any whaling ships either: the only people in the world who ever engaged in mallemaroking were the sailors on whaling ships from Greenland.
Nobody is quite sure where “mallemaroking” came from, although there is a Dutch word “mallemerok” that sounds like it might be the source. The sound is the only clue though, because in Dutch “mallemerok” means a foolish woman, and as far as anybody knows, even Dutch mallemeroks were never foolish enough to wind up fishing for whales off Greenland. But other than that, there’s really no scuttlebutt to be found about “mallemaroking.”
“Scuttlebutt,” by the way, is casual information or gossip. It’s formed from “scuttle,” which is a hole cut in part of a ship (well above the waterline). Scuttles are used on ships to let fresh air or sunlight into the interior. The word dates at least from the 1600s and is still in use today. The second half of “scuttlebutt” is, obviously “butt,” which in this context means a big barrel or cask. Back when ships had sails, a cask of drinking water would be placed on deck where anyone could get a drink — it was their version of the office water cooler. The top of the cask was left open, or at least had a lid that was easy to open. Since they were on a ship, the opening in the cask was called a “scuttle” in a “butt” — and before long “scuttlebutt” was a word on its own. It’s common nowadays to refer to casual discussions around the office water cooler simply because people meet there when they’re thirsty, and they chat. The same thing happened centuries ago on sailing ships; sailors would talk to each other when they met at the “scuttlebutt.” Eventually the word began to refer to the talk instead of the keg of water. There are some notations, though, suggesting that “scuttlebutt” still means “drinking fountain” in the US Navy.
