Many were the grins among the crew that greeted the Sun man that day, and some of them ventured respectfully to salute him and ask him if he had seen the message and had noticed that orders were also issued "to the royal doctors to have their pills and goggle water mixed in accordance with the regulations and the barbers to use the proper per cent. of coal tar, oil, molasses and india ink for their lather." The next day Neptune ordered his subjects to "do stunts" with the newspaper man. Printers' ink was to be used in his lather so as "to give him a dose of his own medicine." A special oven was to be constructed to roast him, and then he would know how it felt himself. General Order No. 7 of Fore Top told the barbers to mix mucilage with the printer's ink and to prepare the oven, and the officers and crew were now in broad grins as they greeted the Sun man and informed him that he was going to get his all right. Then came "brainstorms" from his Majesty telling how the policemen were to act, ordering that their "clubs be stuffed with grate bars" and such, and providing how the hair should be clipped. Forthwith it was remarkable how dozens of men rushed to to the ship's real barbers and had their hair clipped close. "I ain't goin' to have none of that coal tar and grease in mine," said a frightened signal boy. A windsail was made to supply air to the officers' quarters, and the messenger boy of the executive officer came to him and asked him if it was true that the members of the crew were to be shot down that canvas tube. So the proclamations grew in number and with them increased the power of the yarns. The royal electrician was ordered to test the batteries and the royal boatswain was told to prepare his towlines and co-operate with the royal diver to see that the towing was done properly, and finally came the last message from Neptune on the day before the line was reached. It approved all that had been done. Old Nep. howled with joy because the bears were hungry, the knives and razors were sharpened, the lather had been mixed just right, the electric batteries were sizzling, the drop into the tanks had been put up to thirty-eight feet, and he wound up with this sentiment: "God help the poor rookies!" [Illustration: _Courtesy of Collier's Weekly_ Neptune Ahoy!] Whereupon Fore Top issued this final order: GENERAL ORDER NO. 23. All loyal subjects will at once make their final reports to me in detail. Report to me the names of the pollywogs, landlubbers and sea lawyers whose names have been entered on the books for severe punishment. Good-by and good luck to the poor rookies who will come under your notice to-morrow! Deal in a befitting manner with them all. See to it especially that the newspaper man gets his. FORE TOP, O R. O. H. M. G. M. N. R. R. R. D.