Cloth you can read at sea.
We are six machinists in an old sail loft on the Water of Leith. We cut signal flags from polyester bunting, sew every seam twice, head them in canvas with an ash toggle and a spliced eye, and fly each one on our own halyard before it is folded into a set.
The code, and us
Two hundred years of cloth talking to cloth, and the forty-three we have been sewing it.
Trafalgar.
Nelson's signal went up in Home Popham's telegraphic code, one flag group to a word. “Duty” was not in the vocabulary, so it had to be spelled out letter by letter.
The Commercial Code.
The British Board of Trade published eighteen flags that could be combined into more than seventy thousand messages, and merchant ships began to speak one language at sea.
Z at Tsushima.
Admiral Tōgō hoisted a single Z before the battle. The fleet had agreed its meaning in advance, and a one-flag signal passed into Japanese naval legend.
The code we sew.
The Inter-Governmental Maritime Consultative Organization adopted the International Code of Signals in its present form. It came into force in 1969 and every flag on this site follows it.
A loft in Leith.
Tack & Halyard opened with two machines, a borrowed cutting table and an order for three sets from a sail-training charity that still orders from us.
Six machinists.
One long table, a yard with a halyard, and the longest order book we have kept. We still fly every flag before it goes in the bag.
Who sews
Everyone in the loft has a favourite flag. It is usually the hardest one they sew.
- Morag KerrCutter · the swallowtail on A
- Ali FergusonMachinist · sixteen squares of N
- Jean HayMachinist · W, three borders deep
- Tom PetrieAppliqué · the black disc of I
- Priya NairMachinist · ten bias seams of Y
- Sandy ImrieHeading & finishing · every toggle