Today the most imaginative of sailors can describe this piping as representative of the three major victories of either John Paul Jones or Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, depending on which sea dog you happen to ask.
Now, I'm sure you've heard that the black neckerchief is a symbol of mourning for Admiral Lord Nelson, Britain's greatest admiral who died at Trafalgar after defeating the French and Spanish fleets in 1805. Good story, but neckerchiefs were around long before Nelson as a bandanna to guard against the scorching sun at sea. The silk neckerchief, with Navy-issue square knot, crept into the uniform as early as 1817.
Even today, many sailors use a coin placed in the center of the square cloth to keep its shape rounded as they meticulously roll it prior to tying. The use of this coin has generated a mystical tale stemming from the ancient Roman practice of placing a coin beneath the masts during shipbuilding. This coin would buy Roman sailors passage from the mythological "ferryman" across the river Styx, between the world of the living and the dead, in case they perished at sea. Referencing this fable, a few salts remark that they're prepared to pay the price, patting the backs of their necks where their toll is snugly hidden.
The one aspect of the crackerjacks that has not been dashed as a yarn is the collar flap. The collar of the jumper was extended to a nine-inch flap in the late 1800s, replacing the previous wide collar to which a flap was fastened by, guess what? - buttons.
This signifies a tradition held over from the days of tall ships, before the Navy employed haircut regulations. Linehandlers would pull their hair back in ponytail fashion and then apply a tarry substance to prevent any strands from flying loose and becoming entangled or ripped out during the complicated and dangerous linehandling maneuvers that kept their ship at full sail. The flap would attach to the collar, thus keeping the mass of tar and hair away from the sailor's uniform. It also protected his girlfriend's furniture by careful placement of the flap over the back of the couch or chair between hair and upholstery. When the flap became a permanent fixture on the collar, the neckerchief came in handy to keep the uniform, and the furniture, tar-free.
Finally, the dixie cup. No, King George or Harry did not wake up one day and issue an edict, "let all Navy enlisted men don a cap that can double as a royal frisbee." Though the gliding properties of a properly rolled dixie cup startle even NASA scientists, this is not how the white hat evolved. In fact, the whole process was not at all entertaining - it makes too much sense.
Remember the "black hat" from 1817 regulation? Well, stovepipe hats were pretty popular early on but tended to fall off a lot, not to mention the cracking and crunching they took when sailors tried to stow them. A smaller version with a full bill followed, but material for its production was expensive, and the bills tended to droop in warm climates. A thick blue visorless hat with an optional white cover, complete with a hat ribbon sporting unit identification was tried and later dropped for a straw hat, which didn't glide at all.
With all this cover confusion, the easiest way to make a hat was to use the most-available resource - sailcloth, or canvas. Canvas flat hats replaced the black, blue and straw headgear and eventually were mass-produced and reinforced into today's form. Naval lore-ists focus on the white hat's bailing properties, but that dixie cup theory doesn't hold water unless it's during a dire emergency.
These few examples provide a glimpse of the many aspects of the traditions of the Navy, adding to the romance of the sea and a sailor's pride in his uniform and service.