Black anchor tattoo on the inner forearm near the wrist, with the word Hebrews written in script along the shaft and 6:19 above the crossbar.

Anchor with Hebrews script on the wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black anchor tattoo sits on the inner forearm near the wrist. The word Hebrews runs in cursive script down the shaft, and the reference 6:19 is set above the crossbar in a smaller, rounded lettering style. The linework is solid black with no shading or colour, and the photo is taken straight on with the design centred in the frame.

Lettering Forearm Anchor Script Scripture reference Wrist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ada Pell had let the back room at Gull Rest to the same sort of man for thirty years: men off the boats with salt in their collars, who paid in advance and left without a word. Sam Hallam was different. At breakfast he read his mother's Bible with his elbows on the cloth, lips moving over Hebrews while the kippers went cold.

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"What's it say about anchors, then?" she asked one February morning, when the wind had lifted two slates and the bay outside was the colour of wet slate too. He turned the pages with a licked finger. "Hope as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast," he read, then gave a short laugh. "Sounds grand. My dad said it about the Lively Mary. She went down with all hands but him, and he never once went near a church after."

The gale came on the Thursday. Sam went down to the harbour with the lifeboat men, and Ada stood at the scullery window counting lamps on the breakwater until they went out one by one. Just before dawn the back door banged. He came in streaming, dragging a rusted kedge anchor he had hauled up the cliff path alone, because the chandler's chain had snapped and nobody else would go near it.

He set the thing on the hearthrug, sat down beside it and took the pencil from behind his ear. On the flyleaf of her rent book, under the week's figures, he wrote the reference in small careful capitals: HEBREWS 6:19. "Put that on the account," he said. "Tenpence, and you keep the anchor." Ada pressed the page flat with her thumb. Outside, the tide had turned, and the water slid back over the stones as if it had never meant to take anything at all.