Small black anchor tattoo with the handwritten text Heb 6:19 beneath it, on the side of a bare foot.

Anchor and Heb 6:19 on a foot

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small black anchor sits above the handwritten reference Heb 6:19, both inked on the side of a pale foot. The linework is fairly bold and even, with the anchor drawn as a solid outline and the lettering in a loose, hand-written script. The image is in colour only as skin tone and ink, with a plain background and the tattoo near the centre of the frame.

Other Anchor Script

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The squall reached the Medway moorings before the bell had finished ringing, and Ada Tennant had nine hulls to check with one pair of hands and a torch that kept dying. She went down the pontoon ladder hand over hand, counting cleats under her breath. The lighters rode low and grumbled on their chains. Only the old salvage barge, the Cordelia Penn, pulled hard enough to worry her.

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She found the fault in the bow shackle, a pin worn to a sliver by forty winters of salt. Ada had no spare. She wrapped the chain twice around the sampson post, then threaded a length of rope from her own belt through the eye and cursed the man who had sold her the pin. Rain drove flat across the water. Somewhere upriver a gull kept shouting the same word.

The barge did not move. Ada lay on the wet boards with her cheek against the iron and felt the hold bite, a long slow tremor through the steel. The whole hull swung round once and stopped, nose into the wind, like a dog that had caught a scent. She thought of her grandfather saying an anchor was the one thing on a boat that never had to look at the sea. She thought he was wrong, but not by much.

When the squall passed she wrote the entry in pencil, because ink ran in the damp. Cordelia Penn held. Shackle replaced, fourth of March. Then, underneath, she copied the verse he had carved into the wheelhouse door, the one about hope being an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast. The pencil pressed so hard it tore the page.