This might be controver sial. I’m going to talk about the behavior of couples on boats, and some readers may find my observations offensive. Put simply, I have observed that when on boats most men are jerks in their dealings with women.

Why do most men sit behind the wheels or tillers and have their wives up at the bow handling mooring lines, throwing dock lines or fending off other boats? Why do most men stand in the stern when a boat is aground and yell orders at their wives?

Why are most men (usually bigger in stature and muscle mass) the boat drivers and most wives (usually smaller in stature and muscle mass) the foredeck slaves?

I’ve seen a lot of this behavior, I’ve thought about it and read a lot on the subject. There is a genre of sailing and cruising books written by women sailors specifically for women who are new to sailing and cruising and want to learn so they can enjoy the experience with their men. The books written by women on this topic seem to make three points:

Men are mostly in charge on boats as they are the initiators of the “let’s get a boat and go cruising” decision; the stress of running a boat creates tension which manifests in behaviors and accelerates issues between couples; for reasons of experience and confidence, women generally aren’t comfortable taking over the command of a boat.

To that end, there are courses exclusively for women who want to enhance their sailing skills; one cruising program Womanship has the motto “Nobody yells.” (That says something about this topic.)

When my wife and I sailed in a 35-foot sloop, we used hand signals to communicate. We were pretty adept at it and hand signals made the communication involved in boat handling much easier. When we moved up to a 50-foot cutter, however, there was too much gear and rigging in the line of sight between the bow and the stern to make the hand signals effective. We tried a set of headphones but they were a pain. So we tried talking, but between the wind and boat noises, talking turned to yelling. And that turned to, why are you yelling at me, I didn’t do anything wrong! I wasn’t yelling at you. Yes you were! And then the tranquility of an evening on a lovely boat in a picturesque harbor exploded into the microburst of a thunderstorm.

In fairness and in fact, there just might have been — occasionally — some impatience underneath my raised voice. And whether it was due to the simple stress of the moment or more serious issues, the evening’s drink later in the cockpit was less than cordial. So perhaps I too have been a jerk.

I don’t know a solution to the communication issue other than hard work at clarity of information and constant practice at boat handling. But I do find it unpleasant and poor seamanship when I see men who are driving boats acting like jerks.

At dusk on a beautiful August evening, my wife and I were on a mooring in Port Clyde, Me. Port Clyde Harbor is actually a cut between two islands at the end of the St. George River; the tidal current flows hard through the harbor in both directions as it rises and falls. Due to the current, securing a mooring pennant is an exercise in careful boat handling; the bow needs to be kept steady without swinging off line and the boat needs enough speed to stem the tide; too little and it will fall off, too much and it will overshoot the mooring.

A lovely Concordia yacht approached an adjacent mooring. Behind the wheel sat a large gentleman with a black visored white captain’s cap. A slightly-built woman crouched at the bow. As the boat inched to the mooring pennant, the woman crawled through the bow pulpit, over the anchor and grabbed the mooring with one hand. With her other hand, she held onto the boat. Before she could bring the mooring line onto the boat, the gentleman in the captain’s hat shut off the engine. The woman was left holding a 40-foot 18,000-pound boat against a four-knot current. One arm stretched to the mooring and the other stretched to the boat. My wife and I watched in astonishment, wondering when her arms would tear off her body. The captain stood by the wheel and commenced screaming at her to get the mooring line “onto the [expletive deleted] cleat.” Captain Jerk was in command.

A number of years ago, we kept our cutter at Liberty Landing in Jersey City during the shoulder seasons. New York Waterways kept their ferries there and I became friendly with some of their crew. One evening I was chatting at the fuel dock with one of the ferry captains when a 35-foot sport fishing boat approached the dock. The skipper on the fly bridge yelled to the woman on the deck below: “Throw them the dock line.” She threw and the line went into the water.

Swearing, the skipper took the boat around again and issued the command again. Again she threw and again the line went into the water. More swearing. The boat went around again.

As the boat approached for the third time, the ferry captain (who happened to be a woman) yelled from the dock, “Maybe if you can get the [expletive deleted] boat close to the dock, she can just hand me the [expletive deleted] dock line.” The skipper, also named Captain Jerk, remained silent.

I have dozens of these stories. Tales of sailboats on sandbars with men swearing and women and children crying. Of boats attempting to go stern to in marinas with a similar chorus of swearing and crying. I’m sure everyone who has spent time on boats has witnessed this stuff.

And I’m sure most men, like me, have been jerks on occasion. Over time, though, I learned that maintaining my position as Captain Jerk was jeopardizing my position as Married Man. If nothing else, that helped to make the evening drink in the cockpit much more enjoyable.

Jim Malkin lives in Chilmark.