Close view of a woman's upper arm with two solid black blackwork bands tattooed around it, with a grey t-shirt and one hand resting on her hip.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two solid black bands on upper arm

Blackwork · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The image shows a person's arm, cropped so that no face is visible, with two solid black bands wrapped fully around the upper arm. The bands are bold, smooth and evenly spaced, with clean edges and no shading or fine detail. The ink is black on a neutral background of pale walls, and the composition is simple, with the arm bent and the hand resting on the hip.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mr Adair kept the ship's ink in a tin marked for the sail-maker, and on the long run south he used it to paint two black bands around the upper arm of any hand who had stood a watch on the fore-yard in a blow. One band for the first time aloft in weather. Two for the second. Nobody on the Halcyon Gull wore three, because Mr Adair said a third band was a man counting his own funeral.

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I had none when we raised the Falklands. I was the cook's girl, which meant I scrubbed the coppers and carried the slops, and I had never once climbed higher than the galley hatch. What I had instead was the bosun's tally, a knotted cord he let me keep because I could add faster than he could. Every night I ran my thumb along the knots and told myself the sum was right.

On the night off the Horn the mainsail split, and young Pell went up into the dark with a lantern in his teeth. He came down with his hands bleeding and a grin nobody believed. Mr Adair took his arm, looked at it under the lamp, and then, without a word, he looked at me. I had been holding the lantern. I had not climbed. But the cord in my pocket had the right number of knots, and the bosun had seen me count them.

He painted two bands on my arm in the galley that night, steady as a ruled line, and told me to keep my sleeve down until we were in the Sound. I did not. In Port Stanley I rolled it up on the quay and watched the gulls. The bands had dried to the colour of old tar, two clean stripes with nothing between them but skin, and I thought that was about as honest a thing as the sea had ever given me.

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