Traditional style tattoo of a swallow perched on a steaming teacup and saucer, with bold black outlines and orange and yellow shading, on a limb.

Swallow perched on a teacup

Traditional · Other · Mixed · Photo

A swallow with outstretched tail feathers perches on the rim of a dark patterned teacup on a saucer, with wavy lines rising above it to suggest steam. The bird and cup have heavy black outlines, with orange and yellow used for the wing, saucer and cup bands, and small white flower motifs decorate the cup. The design is centred on a plain pale skin background with the bird at the top and the saucer at the bottom.

Traditional Other Swallow Bird Teacup Steam Saucer Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tea had gone cold twice before the bird came in. You had the galley hatch propped open with a boot, the Mariana Rose pitching somewhere south of the Azores, and the kettle hissing on the gimballed stove as if it had opinions about the weather. Mr Haddow, the bosun, had told you a month ago that nothing aboard was worth more than a proper cup of tea, and you had believed him, mostly because the alternative was the coffee the owners bought by the sack.

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The swallow came through the hatch on a gust of spray, low and fast, and it did not so much fly as drop onto the rim of your best cup, the one with the little white blossoms and the chipped gold band. It folded its long tail like a pair of shears and regarded you with one black eye. Haddow swore a bird aboard meant bad luck. You told him it was the only passenger who had paid no fare and eaten nothing, which made it the best one on the ship.

Three days later it was still there, riding the galley shelf and nipping crumbs from the biscuit tin. The sea had turned the colour of pewter and the mate had been sour about the reckoning all morning. Then, at the change of watch, the swallow lifted off the cup and flew straight up the companionway. You followed it onto deck with a dishcloth still in your hand, and there, grey and low on the horizon, was a dark line of land, with the gulls wheeling towards it.

You went back down and poured the tea anyway, let it stew until it was nearly black, and carried it up to the rail. Steam curled off the cup and the wind tore it away over the bow. Haddow came up beside you, took the cup from your hand without a word, and drank it all, and when he gave it back he said it was the worst tea he had ever tasted and asked for another.