A1: Today, a boast. Before, a survey.

A client told me our shortlist was “A1” this week… “pure class” he said.


He had no idea he was quoting a ship surveyor from the 1700s.


So where does A1 actually come from?


⚓️


London, 1680s. Edward Lloyd's coffee house.


Captains, merchants and underwriters swapping gossip about ships over terrible coffee.


In time, they set up a Register Society to survey and grade the ships properly.


And the gossip became a book…


📗 Lloyd's Register of Shipping.


Every vessel in it was graded.

🚢 A letter for the hull: A, E, I, O or U.

⚓️ A number for the gear: 1, 2 or 3. 


A1 meant: 

First class hull. First class equipment.

The best ship money could insure.


Underwriters bet their fortunes on those two characters.


By 1837 it had jumped ashore, into Dickens' Pickwick Papers, where a champion drinker got branded 'A, 1'.

The public took to it. From ship's condition to best in class.


⚓️

A candlelit 18th-century Lloyd’s coffee house scene. On the left, Jason Nangle, in a modern navy suit, shakes hands with a bewigged Georgian gentleman in a long dark coat on the right. Between them, a serving woman in period dress, linen cap and apron, carries a pewter coffee pot and tray. Behind, patrons in period clothing sit at wooden tables, with ship paintings and charts on the walls and candles glowing. In the foreground, a hand in a lace cuff holds a brass magnifying glass over an open antique Lloyd's Register, enlarging the letters 'A1' above an engraving of a sailing ship. A pewter tankard engraved with an anchor sits to the left, and a small 'Angle' stamp marks the page. Text bottom left reads 'Maritime Origins' with the Angle Recruitment logo.

For nearly 70 years, Lloyd's had the market to itself.


Then every maritime nation built its own register.


1828: Bureau Veritas, Antwerp then Paris. 

1861: RINA, Genoa. Italy.

1862: American Bureau of Shipping.

1864: Det Norske Veritas, Norway.

1867: Germanischer Lloyd, Germany.

1899: ClassNK (Nippon Kaiji Kyokai), Japan.


A1 was never a boast. It was a survey.

Someone climbed through the bilges and checked.

Next time you hear something described as 'A1'…

Check the hull. 🤣


🫡 Angle Recruitment... Your register for maritime talent.

Fun Facts


⚓️ A1 nearly didn't survive.

Owners and underwriters spent thirty years in rival registers, feuding until both nearly went bust. 

They merged in 1834, and A1 stuck.


⚓️ The 20th century brought:

1968: IACS, the umbrella body that ties them together.

1913: Russian Register

1936: Polish Register of Shipping

1949: Croatian Register of Shipping

1956: China Class Sociey

1960: Korean Register

1975: Indian Register of Shipping


⚓️ It’s still there today.

 - Every classed ship carries A1 inside her notation.

 - Though the “1” now only covers the anchors and mooring gear. Everything else got its own certificate.

 - And a ship that doesn’t need an anchor is classed 100AN. Sound as a pound. Nothing holding her.

Maritime Origins is a weekly storytelling series exploring the sea-born origins of phrases we still use on land, along with the lesser-known stories, legends and characters that shaped maritime culture.


Created by Jason Nangle, founder of Angle Recruitment,  a global maritime recruitment and executive search firm.


New episode every Tuesday on LinkedIn. Also on Instagram, YouTube and Facebook.


Follow Jason Nangle on LinkedIn → | See the full series →

Jason at a ship's wheel in a storm, cliffs close aboard, under the title Aloof, Maritime Origins

Aloof: the 1530s helm order to keep a ship's head to windward and clear of a lee shore that became shorthand for keeping your distance.

By Jason Nangle • September 28, 2026
Aloof began as a Tudor helm order to keep a ship's head to windward and clear of a lee shore. How a lifesaving steer became a snub. Maritime Origins.
First person view looking up from the deck of a tall sailing ship in a night storm.

Blue fire dancing on the mast. Every sailor watching in silence. Two flames meant protection. One meant trouble. St Elmo’s Fire. Fear it, trust it, or just hope it passes.

By Jason Nangle • September 1, 2026
The mast glows blue. No heat, no flame, just tension in the air. Once a sign from the gods, now called St Elmo’s Fire. Still enough to unsettle any crew.
Ben Line's Employee of the Century

133 Days Adrift. The Ben Line Employee Who Simply Refused to Give Up.

By Jason Nangle • August 24, 2026
After the Benlomond sank in 1942, Poon Lim spent 133 days alone on a life raft, surviving through ingenuity, resourcefulness and extraordinary determination.