“Boat Words,” an essay on sailing terminology is in the new issue of Brick 111 which can be ordered here:
Here’s an excerpt:
A rope on a boat is never a rope, but a line, sheet, or halyard. The boat doesn’t turn left or right, but to port or starboard. If you’re walking to the front of any watercraft, you’re going forward to the bow. When you’re going to the the back of a ship or boat, you’re moving aft to the stern.
You could draw a boat and learn to label it, but why do that when you could pick up boat words the way a child might. Tilt your head up toward the shrouds and spreaders. Grab the mast and duck before you hit your head against the boom. Walk up on the deck, sit with your feet dangling between the stansions, your chin on the lifelines as your shoes knock against the fibreglass hull. Pester the skipper with questions—what’s this? what’s that?—as you get in the way in the cockpit or until you’re allowed to hold the tiller for a few moments, feeling the weight of the water streaming against the rudder. Trip, fall, jam your knee and bruise against all the hard, small parts of the boat, swearing to yourself, embarrassed at everyone’s quick concern. You’ll remember the cleat, block, or winch like the name of someone you’ve instantly disliked.
Not knowing these names is as clear a sign of a landlubber as those sneakers with no tread that leave skid marks on the deck. Not knowing means you’ll be corrected, quickly and firmly, until you do.
There’s a minor error in page 99: “A jib sail is smaller, used for lighter winds…” should be “used for higher winds”. After several rounds of editing, I erroneously corrected what had originally already been corrected, apt since sailors can overcorrect their course when they’ve interpreted their surroundings wrong.
Many thanks to the efforts of wonderful editors Orly Zebak, Rachel Gerry and Liz Johnson, to the vision of Laurie Graham in steering the good ship Brick, and to art director Mark Byk.
Phoebe Ka-Ir Wang 
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