It is usual to select some of the more pliant, or silly, of the party, to form the head and bows: one of these being placed in the centre, looking forward, his head covered with a long swab, of which the threads hang down nearly to his heels, and his face being smeared with all the filth the ship affords, by way of paint, is considered the typical figure suited to the nomenclature of the vessel. All being in readiness, the builders attend Neptune as he retires, in order to allow the shoars to be knocked away, that the launch may take place: the captain and his officers aid the farce by encouraging the passengers to advance towards the waist, there to view the construction; when, at a fit moment, the god roars forth his mandate for committing his _protegé_ to the deep. It, however, unluckily happens that the vessel does not shew any disposition to quit the stocks; therefore, as she will not proceed to the water, the only chance of setting her afloat is by causing the water to proceed to her; which it accordingly does from some dozens of buckets, &c. previously secreted in the fore and main tops, and in the long boat, for that purpose. This drenching concludes the show, and the crew retire to make merry upon the amount of their collections, which, when not sufficiently abundant to afford a moderate allowance to each, is liberally augmented from the ship’s stores. The sabbath is always observed on board every Indiaman with perfect decorum: there being no chaplain on board, unless perchance as a passenger, the captain, or one of the officers, reads the morning service, and eventually a short lecture suited to the audience, consisting of all on board who are not confined by illness. It is not easy to describe the decency which prevails on such occasions; the whole standing bare-headed on the quarterdeck, and refraining from every act, or look, that might trespass on propriety.