It is not much of a job to go up the masts in calm weather. Indeed, on a calm moonlight night, a place on the crosstrees was my favorite spot. One seems to be then on the top of a mountain looking out on an enchanted land. But when the seas are heavy it is a different matter. The force of the gale that leads the mate to bawl his command to shorten sail pins you against the mast. The rain lashes you, and sometimes there is sleet to prick you like swords' points. The man above you may kick you with his heel as he comes to grips with his task. The officers on deck and the boatswain on the yardarm have their eyes fixed on you and the rest of the watch. The canvas must be mastered and every man must do his part. Overhead the spars and yards pitch and reel. The yard you stand on seems almost as unstable as the waves that leap up to engulf you. On the first day out, two of our men had a fist-fight due to trouble that arose between them while they were aloft. Wesley Burroughs had stopped in the shrouds as if he meant to go no farther. Giles Lake, who was behind him, thought to find favor with Bludsoe, the boatswain, and began to prick Wesley's legs with his knife. The result, however, was not what he expected. Wesley continued his ascent, but when the task was done and the two had reached the deck, he went at Giles, who was much larger, like a thunderbolt. Under the eyes of the boatswain, who seemed to think Lake deserved the punishment, he knocked his tormentor down, seized his own sheath knife, and returned prick for prick. An ordeal I feared was that of initiation by King Neptune. I was relieved when Samuel told me that Neptune's visit came only when a ship crossed the equator, and that _The Rose of Egypt_ would not cross that imaginary line. He satisfied my curiosity by describing his own experience. After breakfast on the morning the ship crossed the equator, he was ordered to prepare for shaving. The crew blindfolded him, led him on deck, and bound him in a chair. A voice said: "Neptune has just come over the bow to inquire if anyone here dares to cross his dominions without being properly initiated. Samuel Childs, prepare to be shaved by the King of the Seas, a ceremony that will make you a true child of the ocean!" His shirt had been stripped off his back. A speaking-trumpet was held to his ear, through which a voice thundered: "Are you, O landsman, prepared to become a true salt?" "I am!" Samuel said boldly. "Apply the brush!" When the bandage was removed from the victim's eyes, someone stood before him dressed like Neptune, with gray hair and beard and long white robes. In his right hand he held a trident; in his left hand the speaking-trumpet. In a sailor's hand was a paint brush that had been dipped in tar. With this thin tar Samuel was lathered, the tar being later removed with fat and oakum.