The initiation ceremonies were kept boiling all the time. Occasionally a sea lawyer, one with an established reputation as such among the crew, would come up. He was asked if he wanted to argue his case. Not one of them did. "Give it to him good," Neptune would shout. And they did. The rest of the crew understood the significance of the extra ducking and howls of glee resulted. The sea lawyers usually had to be helped out of the tank. Now and then a man would lose his temper when he got into the tank. Small mercy for him! He would drag a bear under the water with him. Forthwith half a dozen bears would go to the rescue of their companion, and in the rescue that man who had dragged the bear under would think he was going to kingdom come before he got a breath of air. Oh, it didn't pay to be fresh in that salt water! The ceremonies were half over when there came the unforeseen. A victim came up with a peculiar glitter in his eye. Dr. Flip saw it and diagnosed the case as "extremis mortuis of the right optic." The diagnosis was correct, for, catching Dr. Flip in a favorable position, the victim toppled Dr. Flip over into the tank himself. "Flip is taking a flap!" shouted the crowd. The bears fell on Dr. Flip, thinking he was a new arrival, and he got such a sousing as few who preceded him had received. He lost his glasses, but when he clambered back upon the platform he called out: "Next case!" as if nothing unusual had happened. Long before the initiation was over the policemen had roused the excitement of Sally Ann, who was perched in the rigging over the bridge, watching the strange performance, as they ran about the ship chasing culprits who tried to escape. Each succeeding arrest stirred her up more and more, and she shrieked out her grief in unearthly yells. One of the bluejackets had to gather her in his arms and stroke her head and talk soothingly to her before she would be comforted. Another thing that pleased Neptune and the bluejackets was the appearance of an enormous gull, a "goney bird," they called it, that hovered over the initiation ceremonies for more than an hour, turning and twisting its head and giving out strange calls. Where the bird came from no one saw. The ship was 300 miles out to sea. No other bird of the kind was in sight. It was the sailor's omen of good luck. When the bird alighted in the rigging a cheer went up. That sealed the matter of good luck and then the bird flew off to the other ships and watched the ceremonies there. So hour after hour the initiation went on until the last man had been rounded up and Neptune pronounced the day's work well done. He sent this signal to Admiral Evans: _The Commander-in-Chief, U. S. Atlantic Fleet._