Imagine a world where secrets didn’t slip out in whispers but were whistled across mountains and valleys. Or where survival was all about speaking in code—a language only the outcasts could crack. In a time when texts and tweets have made us lazy with our words, history reminds us that language used to have layers. A lot of textures and layers. Back in the old days, it wasn’t just about talking; it was about surviving, rebelling, and keeping the truth hidden from prying ears.

Today, a scrappy crew of codebreakers and linguists is bringing these ghost languages back to life, refusing to let them vanish into silence. We’re about to dive into history’s time capsule of hidden cultures and underground communities—where survival depended on secret codes, whispered words, and even whistled messages. These modern-day heroes who are decoding them are on a righteous mission to make sure these voices are heard once more.

Whistling Languages: The Echoes Across Mountains:

Imagine this: You’re a shepherd tending to your flock somewhere in the Canary Islands, miles away from another human. How do you shout across the vast valleys? Simple—you whistle. Known as “Silbo Gomero,” this language is a sophisticated, high-pitched symphony of whistles developed by villagers to communicate over long distances. This allowed folks to deliver detailed messages, like “Dinner’s ready,” without a single word. That’s the true song and beauty of Silbo Gomero.

But this language was more than a “Hey, come and get it!” type whistle. In truth, these were very intricate sounds made with your hands and mouth.

The secret is that whistling travels much farther than shouting—and with way less effort. On this vast, volcanic island, it was the perfect way for people to communicate across the rugged terrain. Today, there are about forty whistled languages left in the world, but sadly, most are teetering on the edge of extinction. But “Silbo Gomero” is different. Thanks to dedicated efforts to keep it alive, this language still whistles across the valleys, refusing to fade away.

Even though times have changed, and not many people need to whistle across valleys when they’ve got a smartphone in their pocket, a few die-hard linguists and local schools in the Canary Islands aren’t willing to let this beautiful language disappear into the digital void. They’re bringing Silbo Gomero back, teaching it to kids and weaving it into cultural programs, so those haunting whistles still echo through the hills. Because some things are just too wild and raw with beauty to let fade away.

Pirate Codes: The Language of Outlaws

Now, let’s go from the mountain whistles of the Canary Island into the murky waters of pirate slang. This isn’t just “arrr matey!” type stuff. It’s actually an entire secret language designed to evade authorities and keep treasure maps from falling into the wrong hands. Pirates didn’t just raise flags; they raised hidden signals, with phrases that twisted and turned, and were absolutely impossible to decipher if you weren’t in the know.

World Anvil:

While most pirates speak various hand languages, most, if not all, share some common symbols. These symbols are globally recognised by pirates, and often symbolise peace or threats.

Crossing your two pinky fingers and dragging the right one apart diagonally means that you are going to kill them if they don’t leave. This symbol is used when you are being robbed or feel threatened. It is used as a deterrent and generally doesn’t mean you will kill them, just if they do not leave then things will get physical.

Your whole hand pointed upwards symbols peace. This symbol is used if you want to befriend another pirate on an airship when you two cross paths. Similar to two people waving hands, it is commonly used to start alliances.

Raising your two hands in the air and making your two index and pinky fingers touching forming a rhombus means you need help. Pirates don’t often come to another’s aid, but it is always worth trying this symbol as another airship passes when you’re injured in the hopes that the pirate will help bandage you up.

Hollywood loves to glam up pirates, but the real deal? Let’s just say the truth about pirate life would probably leave a lot of people shocked—and maybe a little disappointed.

Sure, the days of swashbuckling and sea battles are long gone, but historians and nautical experts are still digging through old maritime records to uncover what pirates were really saying back in the day.

Pirates definitely had their own “codes” behind those flags. A black flag meant they were about to attack—but weren’t planning to kill everyone on board (lucky you). But if you saw a red flag? Yikes. That was bad news. That was the pirates’ promise of full-blown violence and bloodshed.

Think of this treasure hunt into how pirates actually communicated as the original “dark web,” where every phrase had a double meaning, and every flag carried a hidden threat.

Tifinagh Script: The Mystical Language of the Berbers:

Under the blistering North African sun, the ancient Berber tribes left their mark—literally. They carved Tifinagh symbols into stones and walls, each character a piece of a language as mesmerizing and enigmatic as the desert itself. Tifinagh isn’t just some ancient script; it’s a cultural heartbeat for the Amazigh people, a link to their ancestors and a silent declaration of identity in a world that’s tried to erase it more than once. Even today, those otherworldly symbols hold the same fierce pride and mystery, refusing to be forgotten in the sands of time.

There’s an almost supernatural mystique around Tifinagh, with its sharp, angular symbols etched into desert stones like messages from another world.

Some say the script feels more like an ancient code than a language, its shapes so unique and unearthly that it’s easy to imagine it as something beyond human design. Whether a product of ancient wisdom or something more mysterious, Tifinagh holds a haunting beauty, as if carrying secrets meant to transcend time, place—even reality itself.

Tifinagh was almost wiped out, but now it’s getting a second life in Moroccan schools, part of a push to keep Amazigh culture from blending into the background. Activists are on a mission to keep Tifinagh alive, defending this script not just as a language but as a marker of resilience and pride.

Polari: The Hidden Language of the LGBT Community:

In 1950s Britain, just being yourself could be risky business—especially if you were gay. Enter Polari: a lively, coded language blending Cockney, Italian, and Romani, crafted to fly under the radar. Derived from the Italian word “parlare” (to speak), Polari was once spoken by actors, circus and fairground performers, wrestlers, and merchant sailors. It even caught on among criminals and sex workers. But it was the gay subculture that truly embraced and popularized it, turning Polari into a badge of identity.

This secret language allowed people to speak openly with one another without tipping off outsiders, acting as both a shield and a celebration of community and freedom.

Today, historians of queer culture are working to document and share Polari, ensuring it isn’t erased from LGBTQ+ history. Through podcasts, books, and performances, Polari is being honored for the role it played in a time of oppression—and in forming a community that wouldn’t refused to be silenced.

Nüshu: China’s Secret Language of Women:

In rural China, where men held the keys to education and control, women created their own. Nüshu, a written language that was unique to women, offered a safe place to share life’s joys and sorrows. In this time and place, Nüshu wasn’t just ink on paper but a lifeline for women in isolation.

European Guan XI:

Nüshu was passed down over generations of women, as it was used to communicate with female family and friends in a feudal society where these did not have access to formal education or any kind of relevant social position and were relegated to private and interior spaces. The largest number of speakers (or, rather, writers) of this language were found in the village of Shangjiangxu, where it was used to send friendly messages with auspicious wishes. Some of these communications followed rituals, with young girls making formal vows of loyalty to each other and becoming best friends or jiebai zimei (‘sworn sisters’); a very close relationship that could even prove necessary to their position in society. After marriage and moving into their husband’s house, sometimes in other villages, communication through Nüshu would be their form of contact.

Another use for Nüshu was the writing of autobiographies. This way, some women were able to leave a written legacy beyond their husbands, as the women in Jiangyong county were responsible for writing a biography, with women helping each other or writing about others after their death. However, Nüshu was about comfort and transmitting feelings. In a social context where it was not acceptable for women to talk about regrets, their life difficulties, sadness, or grief, the private use of Nüshu created a unique space for women to use their voices and contributed to the creation of very strong and close social ties that provided invaluable support.

Here’s an example of a Nüshu writing that was discovered in 1982:

Sitting alone in an empty room, I’m thinking of nothing,

But writing a piece to lament my misery.

I was born a female of withered fate,

Who had no father to take care of me from the age of three … 

When I turned twenty,

It was my two brothers who presided over my marriage.

Five or six years after I married,

I had borne neither a daughter nor a son, a constant worry.

My parents-in-law worked out bringing in a second woman [i.e., a concubine].

Having her company to rely on, I was happy … 

For four years, our lives went well … 

But someone must have said something to change her heart

And she ran away,

Which made us, husband and wife, angry and dismayed

Chinese historians, with support from local governments, have started to teach Nushu again, framing it as an essential part of the region’s heritage. The revival of Nushu stands as a testament to the women who defied norms, using language to create their own world within a world.

The Thieves’ Cant: Language of the Shadows:

Our last stop on this tour of forgotten languages is 16th-century England, where thieves, beggars, and rebels needed their own form of speech to keep prying ears from hearing what they were up to. And that’s how Thieves’ Cant was born. Popularly known as “Cant” was the original street slang, a language that only those in the seefy underworld could truly understand. Every phrase was a type of code, every sentence was a well-crafted secret.

Forgotten Realms:

While some scholars believed thieves’ cant was not a true language, it utilized a unique set of grammar, combined with local dialects, idioms, coded language, and hand gestures.

While it allowed for secret communication between rogues and thieves of the Realms, thieves’ cant did not exist independent of other languages. It was impossible for two thieves to communicate in cant, if they did not have at least one shared language.

Thieves’ cant was said to be somewhat similar in form to the language of the Vistani people.

Syntax & Grammar
Some iterations of thieves’ cant had unique sets of rules that governed its word usage, syntax, modifiers and tenses.

• A strict word order: words were placed in specific, except when the meaning of a sentence should be changed. The word order was: time — verb — subject — place — indirect object — direct object.
• No use of adjectives: modifying words were used to alter the state of a noun or verb, in context to their place in a sentence, and the adjacent to them. Thieves’ cant used pronouns as suffixes to modify a verb’s subject, or to shift focus from the subject to the verb.
• A unique form of pluralization and adjective magnitude: these were changed by repeating modifier words in rapid succession, in effect creating new words.
• Specific rules regarding verb tense: tenses were changed by placing specific time modifiers at the front of a sentence or question.

Spoken

Thieves’ Cant utilized a narrower set of vowel sounds and elongated syllables. The first syllable of each word received primary stress, while odd syllables in longer words were given secondary stress. Some variants of thieves’ cant employed a series of animal noises.

Written

There was no unique alphabet for thieves cant, as it was rarely if-ever transcribed onto parchment or scroll.

Uses

The main use of thieves’ cant was to communicate illicit activities, such as banditry, burglary, finding marks, and the discussion of ill-gotten loot.

Modern-day criminologists and historians have taken an interest in the Cant, studying its rich, colorful vocabulary to gain insight into the darker sides of historical societies. It’s a reminder that language doesn’t just communicate—it conceals, hides, and, at times, survives in the shadows.

We lose an awful lot when a language dies. It’s not just words slipping through our fingers—it’s a whole way of seeing the world, an entire mindset, and hidden clues from the past. These secret languages and codes aren’t just quirky artifacts lost in time; they’re pieces of history, and rebellious whispers from folks who refused to go with the flow. And thanks to these codebreakers, linguists, and passionate souls who won’t let them go quietly, these voices haven’t been silenced just yet.

Whether it’s a whistle floating across a canyon or a coded phrase shared in the shadows, these lost languages remind us that words aren’t just sounds—they’re survival tools, legacies, and even symbols of defiance. And if you listen close enough, you might just catch a whisper on the wind, waiting for someone to decode it.

Till next time, be wickedly wonderful.