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Crossing the Line.
Baptized by King Neptune.
Three days later we were back on
the receiving ship “Excellent” in Portsmouth with a new outfit of clothes,
and I was drafted to the “Glasgow,” bound for the East Indies. Her
Majesty’s Ship “Glasgow” was a wooden frigate with twenty-eight guns,
full-rigged, with steam of 600 h.p., and her screw could be disconnected at will
and hoisted out of the water. Her captain was Theodore Morton Jones, and Francis
Hope was her commander. The crew numbered five hundred and twenty-eight officers
and men.
On leaving England, our first
port on the way to the tropics was Funchel, a picturesque town on the Madeiras.
After a few days in that beautiful harbor, the ship headed for the Cape Verdes,
and then for thirteen weeks we wallowed in the doldrums, the monotony being
broken only by the unique ceremony of crossing the line.
The night before we reached the
equator, preparations were made for the coming of King Neptune by stretching the
fire hose into the fore and main tops and manning the pumps. All hands were then
piped on deck, and soon the lord of Davy Jones Locker was seen coming over the
bow of the ship rigged out with white flowing robes, his spiked crown and
trident shining with glitter of gold leaf and his long white hair flowing to the
breeze. He was asked the reason of his visit, and Neptune replied that he had
heard that there were many novices on board, and if so they would have to be
baptized or they would not be permitted to pass through his dominions. The
announcement that he would be prepared to accept their allegiance on the morrow
appeared to be the signal for the turning on the water, for a torrent was
sprayed over everybody from the tops, and the ceremony for that day was over.
Next morning an immense tank was
constructed on the quarterdeck from a mainsail, and four feet of seawater was
pumped in. Close to it a platform and throne were rigged up, with a slide
leading into the tank. Promptly after the morning exercises, six husky old sea
dogs took their places in the water of the tank. King Neptune seated himself on
the “throne” at the far of the platform and called for the first victim. A
tub of whitewash had been provided, with a brush and a piece of iron hoop, which
was to be the official razor. An impromptu barber’s chair had been improvised,
and the committee was combing the ship for the young sailors who had not crossed
the line before. There was no lack of candidates, and as fast as one could be
blindfolded and seated before him, Neptune would ask him his name, but as he
opened his mouth to answer, the high priest would jauntily fill it with a wave
of the whitewash brush. After a number of questions concerning his nativity and
what he had eaten for breakfast, receiving a dab of whitewash every time he
tried to reply, his face was scraped with the “razor” and he was led to the
slide where he was seated backwards. A gentle push was given him, the blinders
were snatched from his eyes, and he was in the arms of the “bears,” who
passed him along, mostly underwater, to the end of the tank where he was allowed
to climb to safety.
Soon after the equator we ran
into the southeast trade winds, and our speed began to pick up. In the evenings
the yards of the mainmast would be squared and she would put on the appearance
of a ship in stays. Having been brought to a standstill, the end of a lower
studding sail boom would be lowered into the water and all hands piped to bathe.
Although I had taken many swimming lessons on the training ship I had never
learned to swim, so when the bathing call went out I did my best to hide until
the exercise was over. But I was soon detected, and the captain made it plain to
me that when the hands were piped to bathe it meant just what it said. As I slid
down on of the “lizards” I had the “all gone” feeling that culprits are
supposed to have when they are about to be hung. The “lizards” or ropes were
about fifteen feet apart along the boom. It was now a case of sink or swim. On
reaching the water I called to a swimmer who was holding on to the next rope to
look out for me. I then let go and struck out, making an exhibition of my self
in that fifteen feet of distance, but I finally reached the rope and looked
around for my friend, who had vanished. My lungs were full of seawater, but a
sudden feeling of confidence had come over me, and it was a new-born
exhilaration that I swam back to the rope I had left and knew that I could swim.
That part of the ocean where the ship was floating was nearly two miles deep,
yet when the hands were called to bathe the next evening I was the first one
overboard and swam as far ahead of the ship as anybody.
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