He combed out a beard of rope, wrapped a sheet around his shoulders, procured a trident of wood.... "Come," shouted one of the sailors to me, running up like a happy boy, "come, see Neptune climbing on board." The sail-maker pretended to mount up out of the sea, climbing over the forecastle head--just as if he had left his car of enormous, pearl-tinted sea-shell, with the spouting dolphins still hitched to it, waiting for him, while he paid his respects to our captain. Captain Schantze, First Mate Miller, Second Mate Stange, stood waiting the ceremonial on the officers' bridge, an amused smile playing over their faces. A big, boy-faced sailor named Klaus, and the ship's blacksmith, a grey-eyed, sandy-haired fellow named Klumpf, followed the sailmaker close behind, as he swept along in his regalia, solemnly and majestically. And Klaus beat a triangle. And Klumpf played an accordion. "Sailmaker" (the only name he was called by on the ship) made a grandiose speech to the Captain. Schantze replied in the same vein, beginning, "Euer Majestaet--" * * * * * The sailors marched forward again, to their music, like pleased children. For custom was that they should have plum duff this day, and plenty of hot grog.... Before I was aware, I was caught up by several arms. For I had never before crossed the line. So I must be initiated. They set me on a board, over a great barrel of sea-water. Klumpf gave me a mock-shave with a vile mixture of tar and soap. He used a great wooden razor about three feet long. The officers shouted and laughed, looking on from the bridge. "What's your name, my boy?" asked Father Neptune. "John Greg--" Before I could articulate fully the blacksmith thrust a gob of the vile lather into my mouth. As I spluttered and spit everyone gave shouts of laughter. One or two sailors rolled on the deck, laughing, as savages are said to do when overtaken with humour. The board on which I sat was jerked from under me. Once, two times, three times, I was pushed, almost bent double, far down into the barrel of sea-water. It was warm, at least. Then a hue and cry went up for Franz. He was caught. He swore that he had crossed the line before, as doubtless he had. But there was now a sort of quiet feud between him and the rest aboard. So in a tumbling heap, they at last bore him over. He fought and shrieked. And because he did not submit and take the ceremony good-naturedly, he was treated rather roughly. * * * * * My certificate of initiation was handed me formally and solemnly. It was a semi-legal florid document, sealed with a bit of rope and tar. It certified that I had crossed the line. The witnesses were "The Mainmast," "The Mizzen Mast," and other inanimate ship's parts and objects....