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CROSSING THE LINE

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CROSSING THE LINE
Tales of the Ceremony During
Four Centuries
Gathered by
HARRY MILLER LYDENBERG
MBL / WHOI

LIBRARY

Woods Hole, MA
Marine Biological Laboratory
Woods Hole Oceanographic

Institution

New York
The New York Public Library
1957

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/oods Hole Oceanographic Institution
An LRQ

Reprinted with revisions and additions from the
Bulletin of The New York Public Library
1955-1957
Printed at The New York Public Library

TO THE MANY KIND FRIENDS WHOSE
HELP MADE POSSIBLE THIS
“GARLAND OF OTHER MEN’S POSIES”

ET ni a Su

Re

Krk
i
arias aa MA Ku

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION 8
THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY 15
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 19
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 85
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 67
THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 179
APPENDIXES:
A — Crossing the River Platte 215
B — Crossing by Air 217
C — Crossing on Land 218
D— Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 220
CHRONOLOGY OF WRITERS BY NATIONALITY 235
INDEX OF NAMES 237
ILLUSTRATIONS:

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Robert Cruikshank’s “Crossing the Line’ Frontispiece

Augustus Earle’s “Crossing the Line” facing page 181

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Crossing the Line

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INTRODUCTION

HEN did man first go down to the sea in ships?
Who can say? It surely must have been far, far back of grandfather's
“good, old days.”

What did the sailor think when first he faced that alluring, charming, help-
ful, inviting, cruel, destructive, devastating, heartless stretch of water, his
frail craft set against those buffeting billows?

What more natural than a thought, perhaps even a stop, to “thank what-
ever gods may be,” to offer a prayer for mercy at sea, to promise grateful
sacrifice for a safe trip, to give heartfelt thanks and to voice sincere relief
when safely landed? Thriftily, might not this sacrifice not only care for the
latest voyage but also for the next to come?

What more natural than that on later voyages the seasoned old salt should
call on the green shipmates to prove that they could not only stand the terrors
and strains and stresses so soon to begin, but that they had also enough of the
courage and the good fellow in their make-up to take in good humor the
joking and the ragging and the joshing accepted as part of daily life aboard
ship?

The field for musing and speculation is both boundless and inviting. So too
is it exasperatingly and disappointingly limited and unproductive when a man
tries to find something more definite and reliable and rewarding than his own
questioning of just when and where and how did travelers tell what they knew
or felt about the way the crossing of the equator or any other important
stretch on land or sea was marked; when and why did the formula take present
shape and form, how much did one nationality take over from another.

Man undoubtedly traveled by sea soon after he came to see the great
waters. Such records of those early days as come down to us tell little more
than we set out, landed, now and then suffered shipwreck. Egyptians, Phoe-
nicians, Greeks, Romans took to the sea as a thoroughfare so familiar as to call
for no comment other than that it was used. Iliad and Odyssey sing about
the sea travel, the ships, the sea folk, but I find no mention or suggestion of
any particular ceremony connected with the sea, as such. School boys thrill
as they hear Xenophon tell in the Anabasis how the Greeks shouted “thalassa!
thalassa!” when they saw the Euxine on their toilsome homeward plodding;
but if they danced with joy or offered prayers or sacrifices we get not one word.

The Psalmist knew what men suffer when they “go down to the sea in ships,”
and tells us that when they “do business in great waters . . . they cry unto
Jehovah in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses, . . .

[3]

4 Crossing the Line

bringeth them into their desired haven.” If his mariners offered any special
form of prayer as thanks for a safe landing, we hear nothing about it.

The ship bearing Paul on his way to Rome tried to escape the Syrtis only
to run aground on Malta. The record in Acts sets the story down quite as
something to be taken for granted if not expected. Paul cheers the crew as he
tells them that an angel had revealed to him that the ship would be cast
ashore with no lives lost; he urges them to take a bite to eat even in the midst
of the storm. Of life ashore, however, we hear nothing more than that Paul
shook a viper off his hand and later healed the father of Publius. It is all a
plain statement of fact, the standard “who, what, when, why,” with little need
of rewriting for tomorrow's newspaper. Take the dangers of the sea in your
stride; no complainings, but no form of prayer for thanks.

Professor Samuel Eliot Morison — also Rear Admiral and naval historian —
is as much at home on the sea as in his study or his classroom, is certainly much
closer to the “feel” of the seaman than the landsman may hope to be, and cer-
tainly knows the sailor’s viewpoint as well as he knows how to sail his boat
or his ship. In his fascinating Admiral of the Ocean Sea he reminds us that
“seamen were the most religious of all workers.” He tells us of the daily life at
sea in Columbus's time, how “at sunset the Blessed Virgin was saluted with
her ancient canticle, Salve Regina”; also how “in the second dogwatch, just
after sunset and before the first night watch is set, all hands are called to eve-
ning prayers. The ceremony begins by a gromet [cabin boy] trimming the bin-
nacle lamp: and as he brings it aft along the deck he sings out... ‘Amen and
God give us a good night and good sailing; may the ship make a good passage,
sir captain and master and good company.’

“The gromets then lead the ship’s company in what was technically called
la doctrina cristiana. All hands say the Pater Noster, Ave Maria and Credo,
and sing the Salve Regina. This beautiful hymn, one of the oldest Benedictine
chants, was a fitting close to the day. The music of it has come down to us, so
that we can in some measure re-create that ancient hymn of praise to the
Queen of Heaven that floated over uncharted waters every evening, as the
caravels slipped along.” *

Columbus did not cross the equator after 1492. He may have hit south lati-
tude on earlier voyages along the coast of Africa, but we have no proof one
way or the other. If, however, the Genoese Columbus, on a Spanish ship, led
thus his Spanish crew, is it a wild guess to feel he then followed established

* Quoted with permission of Professor Morison from Admiral of the Ocean Sea, p. 238 of vol. 1.

Introduction 5

practice and tradition? Thanks for safety thus far; thanks for a special
occasion.

Stop a moment and follow Prince Henry the Navigator's Portuguese sea-
men as they worked their way down the west coast of Africa. Do we find any
special ceremony as they found the sun shift from south to north? We hear
that Bartolomeu Diaz rounded the Cape, Vasco da Gama reached India,
but the records are silent on the point now of interest to us.

Well into the sixteenth century do we hear Camoéns sing the praises of his
native Portugal and his hero as he pictures Vasco da Gama telling the tale
of his voyage to the King of Melinde:

And from the Pole familiar of the Bear

At length in those vast oceans I withdrew,

For I had overpassed the burning bound,

Where the limit which divides the earth is found.

Our course across those regions we had ta’en,
Through the which, passing twice, Apollo makes
A pair of winters and likewise summers twain,
What time from Pole to Pole his way he takes.*

Admitting freely and promptly that poetry may often be more effective
than bald prose, I submit that here we fail to learn how or whether any cere-
mony marked the overpassing of “the burning bound, where the limit which
divides the earth is found.”

Let us turn to some other of the brave souls that dared to trust their lives
to the mercies of Father Neptune, and see what they tell about our story. In
1519 Pigafetta sailed with Magellan on the first circumnavigation. He tells
that they passed Sierra Leone “with contrary winds, calms, and rains without
wind, until we reached the equinoctial line, having sixty days of continual
rain. Contrary to the opinion of the ancients, before we reached the line many
furious squalls of wind, and currents of water struck us head on in 14 degrees.
As we could not advance, and in order that the ships might not be wrecked,
all the sails were struck; and in this manner did we wander hither and yon
on the sea, waiting for the tempest to cease, for it was very furious. When it
rained there was no wind. When the sun shone, it was calm.” +

* Lusiads, Leonard Bacon’s translation, 1950, Book V, 13 and 15. Quoted with permission of
the Hispanic Society of America, publisher.

+ Robertson’s translation of the Ambrosian manuscript. Cleveland, 1906. v. 1, p. 85. Ramusio’s
text, Venice, 1550, p. 380, runs about the same. Not one word do we get about any special
ceremony.

6 Crossing the Line

Wait just ten years, and later, under 1529, we shall see below the first news
about special marking of the crossing, when Jean Parmentier sails from France

and sings a Mass, largely if not purely a religious ceremony.
All the writers quoted so far are Latins. How about the northerners? What

do we hear when Sir Francis Drake sailed to the South Seas to singe the
Spaniard’s beard? The Reverend Master Francis Fletcher gives us plenty of
detail as to how Drake had been out of sight of land some 68 days before
“passing the line equinoctiall the 17. day [of February 1577] . . . Wee often
met with aduerse winds, vnwelcome stormes, and to vs (at that time) lesse
welcome calmes, and being as it were in the bosome of the burning zone, wee
felt the effects of sultring heat, not without the affrights of flashing lightnings,
and terrifyings of often claps of thunder.” * May one suppose that if any relig-
ious ceremony had marked the crossing that the “Preacher in this imploy-
ment” would have told us?

Accept all this as one more time when writers of books refuse to glimpse
beforehand all the questions we later readers of those books may choose to
pose, then stop a moment to ask if it is unfair to think that some formal cere-
mony came with the passing of any well-known landmark or position, such as
the Straits of Gibraltar, the Skagerrak and Kattegat, the clearing of the Eng-
lish Channel or the reaching of the Grand Banks of Newfoundland, the
Tropics of Cancer or Capricorn, as well as the swinging of the sun from north
to south? Indeed, why limit it to the sea? We shall see later that the mouth of
the River Platte served as such a point in the westward movement in this
country early in the nineteenth century; also the height of land between the
Mississippi and Great Lakes systems to the south and the Arctic and Hudson
Bay systems to the north.f

Even today do we see a variation of the equatorial version of the ceremony
develop in the passing over the 180th meridian or the crossing of the Arctic
Circle. The airmen too have their version, as their limits of space and speed
must perforce change some details. Records of sea or air voyages to the South
Pole seem to say nothing about it. Was the crossing unmarked, or was the
tale kept from the uninitiated? Few voyages from south to north mention it,
though we shall find one lone tale about it set down below with date about
1910. Several passengers on ships to or from the Cape of Good Hope have

* The World Encompassed, by Sir Francis Drake, carefully collected out of the notes of Master
Francis Fletcher, Preacher in this imployment, and divers others his followers. London, 1628.
p- 12.

+ In The Mariner’s Mirror, May, 1954, v. 40, no. 2, p. 161-162, Henning Henningsen reports he
has material showing that for 33 points in Europe some form of baptism was practiced.

Introduction 7

told me they obeyed the summons of Father Neptune in due fashion, even if
we find little about it in print.

Why should sailor alone take it over? Why never a word from plodding foot
traveler or from cavalier on horseback or on camel? Lack of instruments? No
astrolabe or sextant is needed to note such a shift in sun.

Few if any travelers by land equal Marco Polo in the distance covered, in
the appeal of his tale, in the wealth of information he gives us. Not one word,
however, do we get from him suggesting anything like our ceremony. Out-
ward bound, to be sure, he never was in south latitude, but much of the home-
ward trip was by sea. How could a son of Venice fail to speak of such a thing
if any particular notice had been taken?

He does tell us about the monsoons, and when weather held him five months
in the kingdom of Samara (Sumatra?) he says: “here again neither the Pole-
star nor the stars of the Maestro were to be seen, much or little.” * The “here
again” harks back to chapter IX, “concerning the island of Java the Less,” the
passage there running “but let me premise one marvellous thing, and that is
the fact that this Island lies so far to the south that the North Star, little or
much, is never to be seen!” If Samara is our Sumatra we find the equator cuts
it just about in half. 2

Are Chinese and other eastern annals quite silent on this matter? Or, are we
perhaps some day to learn from them that like paper and compass and so
many other things and habits, our ceremony really goes back to this or that
dynasty of eastern rulers and has been overlooked as to source by unimagina-
tive westerners?

As I scanned tale after tale of travel I found myself wondering if that
lively reporter, Henry M. Stanley, noted the shift in position as he worked his
way north from Zanzibar to Ujiji. While with Livingstone on Tanganyika he
must have crossed the line over and over again, but never do we get a word
about its being marked or noted.

Looking at the folklore of the performance reminds us how from early
days man has chosen baptisms, the drinking of blood, and similar initiation
ceremonies to mark solemn events — the change into adult life, the accept-
ance of a newcomer into full fellowship in craft or fraternity or other groups.
Why should not the seaman originate his own initiation rites?

Neither a folklorist nor a son of a folklorist, I turned to friends and their
books, current and older, but found no answer. Is it a mark of superficial or
careless search? Two men in particular seemed most promising as first aid,

* Yule’s translation, book 3, chapter X, v. 2, p. 292. London, 1903.

8 Crossing the Line

Lafitau and Amold Van Gennep, but once more I found disappointment.
The good Jesuit, Father Joseph François Lafitau tells us much in his Mœurs
des sauvages Amériquains, comparées aux mœurs des premièrs temps
(Paris, 1724) but in none of his four volumes did I find anything like this,
even though they are so full of interest. Much the same must be said about
Arnold Van Gennep’s Religions, mœurs, et légendes: essais d’ethnographie et
de linguistique (Paris, 1908).

Remember that when we shall first hear about a special marking of the
crossing the ceremony is purely religious. Not long, however, does it stay so;
within a few years it is accepted as normal and natural, hallowed by time and
by general observance. Most of the quotations set forth below are first-hand
reports, most from men, the handful from women all the more welcome. Few
show any curiosity as to what it means, who started it, how far back it goes.
My own speculations on such points I knew full well were but tentative,
worthy perhaps of passing attention until something more nearly final turned
up. As time went on, however, I came to find a few other wonderings about
the origins. Below, under 1792, is quoted the lively tale of the scene on an out-
bound Indiaman printed in The Gentleman's Magazine, and there we find a
query as to how far back it goes. Under 1801 we read of a lawsuit in India
based on a squabble that ended in a serious fight over a youngster’s refusal to
submit to the tender mercies of the crew. When Chambers’s Book of Days
talks about the ceremony some years later it notes this trial (with some slight
errors in detail), and then goes on to ask when and where and why it began,
but gets no nearer the answer than seems the fate of us all.

Another thoughtful and careful study of the whys and whens comes in
France Maritime (v. 8, p. 281-288) where Jules Lecomte goes into past and
present in a way to call for giving it in full under 1837-1844 in the pages which
follow.

Whether influenced by Lecomte, or quite independently, Larousse grand
dictionnaire universel du XIX° siècle (Paris, 1867, p. 190-192 of v. 2) under
Baptéme gives elaborate and understanding, sympathetic and extensive, pic-
tures of the sailor’s point of view. The entry reminds us that we find nothing
in maritime history to fix a precise date for origin, and tells us the rite is
generally admitted to go no farther back than the discoveries of the Portu-
guese in Africa. These first navigators daring to venture into the torrid zone
— uninhabitable by tradition, by the teachings of the ancients, by general
consent — saw a new world opening before them and felt it was fitting to
mark the event by baptism as they began this new life. Since then the sailor
has carried it on almost without a break. For some it has come to be “une

Introduction 9

source de profit,” really a little business affair for the crew, tolerated by the
officers, aiming first to screw out of the passengers enough tips to let Jack Tar
get some means of extra relaxation and joy out of his life of toil. This is fol-
lowed by long quotations from Arago and others.

Larousse du XX° siècle (1928) and Nouveau Larousse universel (1948)
follow the earlier edition, much condensed.

Diderots Encyclopédie notes it under Baptéme, but goes no futher than
detailed description of the ceremony, quoted below under 1751.

Much the same must be said about the other standard encyclopedias. Der
grosse Brockhaus (1932) gives a few lines under Linientaufe; Meyers Lexi-
kon enters it under Aequatortaufe; Enciclopedia italiana (1938) under Bat-
tesimo is fuller, admits uncertainty as to origin, nothing being known before
the 16th century, tells that the French call the victims “cavaliers of the sea”
once they have endured the test for either equator or the 23rd parallel, ends
by saying it is probably a breakdown or an inheritance of a forgotten religious
ceremony. The Spanish Enciclopedia universal ilustrada (c. 1940) gives
less than Larousse but more than the others, notes also the baptism of ships,
thinks we hear less about it now because it has degenerated into a forced
shakedown of passengers to pay for drinks for the crew. (The earliest charge
of this kind is noted under 1709 when Johann Gottlieb Worm calls it “eine
blosse Erfindung der See-Officierer, damit sie nur Geld bekommen, um vor
sich und ihre Leute Erfrischungen kaufen zu können.” )

Contemporary encyclopedias in English keep safely within the clerical
fold when talking about baptism. Britannica in the 11th and 1953 editions
notes the religious rite. The American Peoples’, the Encyclopedia Americana,
Colliers, Grolier, the only ones at my present command, follow suit. However,“
the first American encyclopedia,* based on the third edition of the Britannica,
has the following entry:

Baptism, in the sea language, a ceremony in long voyages on board
merchant ships, practised both on persons and vessels who pass the tropic
or line for the first time. The baptizing the vessel is simple, and consists
only in washing them throughout with sea-water; that of the passengers
is more mysterious. The oldest of the crew, that has past the tropic or
line, comes with his face blacked, a grotesque cap on his head, and some
sea-book in his hand, followed by the rest of the seamen dressed like
himself, each having some kitchen utensil in his hand, with drums beat-
ing; he places himself on a seat on the deck, at the foot of the main mast.
At the tribunal of this mock magistrate, each passenger not yet initiated,

* Encyclopaedia; or, a dictionary of arts, sciences, and miscellaneous literature. Philadelphia,
1798, vol. 2, p. 798-794.

10 Crossing the Line

swears he will take care the same ceremony be observed, whenever he
is in the like circumstances: Then, by giving a little money by way of
gratification, he is discharged with a little sprinkling of water; otherwise
he is heartily drenched with streams of water poured upon him; and the
ship-boys are inclosed in a cage, and ducked at discretion. — The seamen,
on the baptizing a ship, pretend to a right of cutting off the beak-head,
unless redeemed by the captain.

The quotations hereafter set forth come largely from French, English,
United States sources, with scattering others from Dutch, German, Russian.
They show quite soon how far back as to our time and how early as to the date
of quotation the ceremony is accepted as established tradition. Noteworthy
too is the lack of references to it by Italian or Spanish or Portuguese writers,
as compared with the French.

In point of time Portuguese led all, none other like Prince Henry the Navi-
gator. Spain followed hard apace with the change from 15th to 16th century.
Venice and Genoa have long maritime experience, with traditions of real
importance. Yet, on this point of sea lore we have few references to any such
ceremony from them. Italian ships did get to Bruges and to British ports now
and then, but the trips were not regular, scarcely occasional.

An Italian naval officer notes that the Saint’s day, the Santa Maria or Anna
or Trinidad whose name the ship bore, was usually, even invariably, marked
by a religious ceremony. Or, if not for the Saint’s day, then that of the patron
of the home port of the ship. He notes too that the Church and the Inquisition
were stronger in Italy and Spain than in France, and we see here how much
oftener do we find clerical disapproval or forbidding of the usual ceremony
in the quotations from sources stemming from either of the two peninsulas.

Moreover, recall that such notes of the “passaggio della linea” as we find in
later Italian sources seem to indicate that the ceremony had been taken over
from the English. Italian steamships were made in England at first, manned
by British for the engineering force for a long time.

So too comes the wonder why we have so few stories in fiction, so few from
whalers. Corbière, writing in the middle ‘fifties of the last century, gives in
his tale of a slaver set in the time of the Empire, a vivid picture of the crossing.
He there pays high tribute to Eugene Sue and James Fenimore Cooper as
writers of sea tales, rating Cooper as peer of the craft. Most of us have enjoyed
Cooper, will give hearty support to Corbière, but will remind ourselves that
Cooper wrote only about scenes he knew and had never been in south latitude.

Melville and Moby Dick come to mind of course when thinking or talking
about whalers, but when I came to check impressions with the printed page

Introduction 11

I found nothing in Melville except the passage in Mardi where he tells of the
ship’s sailing along the line, crossing it over and over again as it vainly hoped
for the “Thar she blows” from the lookout. Even if it tells nothing about
“our” ceremony the passage is quoted below under 1846, the date of publica-
tion.

Whalers’ logs are just about as garrulous and talkative as logs of other
ships — position, courses, winds, barrels of oil. We do have here sketches by
whalers in shape of Haley (1849), Dubarry (1869), Robertson (1950/51).
Three pictures by whalers! And whaling voyages must run well into the
thousands.

In the quotations let me say that the obvious comment is that English
bulks larger than other tongues because more books were at hand in English.
Tm not so sure about that, am more than sure the search was keener to find
records in other languages. It is perhaps due to the fact that the great swing
upwards in English voyages came in the eighteenth and later centuries, with
American voyages about a century later. Most entries come from printed
books, again because printed sources were more readily at hand than manu-
script. Would that time could have permitted going through official navy
records at home and abroad; dipping into sources in India House, in Salem
or New Bedford or Mystic or Sag Harbor. Personal narratives have I sought
from each and every sailor I found, but when it came to telling what happened
when Father Neptune made his visit, the usual reply has been a laconic
“Plenty,” little more.

So too, it may be not unfitting to tell how the “Rambler” in the story
entered below under 1792, from The Gentleman’s Magazine offers this sage
remark as excuse and reason for the printing of the letter to the editor: “And
as every custom, however ridiculous it may have dwindled into (as for in-
stance, swearing at Highgate) has had a salutary foundation, I should wish
some of your numerous readers, or your own philanthrophic self; would be
pleased to tell me from what occasion it arose. Time that is employed in
investigation must be of general utility, for it often draws, if not a satisfactory
conclusion of our own, a wise one from a better informed man; so, good
Mr. Urban, call upon some of your many friends; and fix an opinion about it.”

None of Mr. Urban’s many friends, so far as I can find, chose to tell him
“from what occasion” this ceremony arose, or to show how much a “better
informed” man was that friend on this point.

Let us now, a century and a half later beg our own “philanthrophic” editor
to pass on to his own numerous readers this new word of good wishes and high
hope. If he does, please pray for better luck than greeted this appeal of 1792.

12 Crossing the Line

As to arrangement of the entries: quotations stand in order of the crossing
(not the date of publication); when the right date for the crossing could not
be found, the entry is under date of publication. Crossings by sea come first,
by far the largest part; after them, crossings on the Missouri river, then by
air, over watersheds between water systems, and last in Scandinavian waters.

Now let us ask a moment for a personal word — nay, two.Working with
these tales of life at sea has given plenty of reward, disappointment as well.
Rewards show here; disappointment is the memory of how stupidly and
callously so many writers have refused to give us one word about when and
where they became “shellbacks,” what happened, what they did to the next
fellows. Those disappointments, however, were then and will be for the long
time to come accepted gratefully as I recall the stories they and the rest told of
bravery and endurance and self sacrifice; of how men battled with wind
and wave, with careless and poor work by ship builders and outfitters,
with discouraging calms in torrid heat, with food and water unfit for humans,
and even too little of what was parceled out to them. If you got wet you
stayed wet until clothing dried, slept in it, worked in it, endured it as you
did the vermin so constant and so ever-present. Yes, and how humanly
did human nature show up as the deadly routine added to the physical strain
on muscles, the no less wracking annoyance of those same faces, those same
habits, those same gestures, those same stories, those same shipmates, watch
after watch, week after week, month after month, below deck, on deck, no
escaping it all. Can we wonder that nerves broke now and then, with fights
among the crew, even with officers and men! Some pulled through, some
found relief and went overboard sewed in sailcloth or canvas.

One more personal word. Bringing these notes together has cheered and
amused me for many a year, adding plenty of information as well as edifica-
tion. It must have had a beginning and a reason, somewhere, somehow, some-
time, but that first thought about it is too far back in memory to take any kind
of shape. It began probably in some “reference question” put to the Library
in person or by letter. I did my best to find the answer, failed, promised to
bear it in mind and report results. I did bear it in mind. I did have some
results to show. Would that they could be given to the man that first voiced
the question.

Another cheering and happy memory long, if not forever, to stay with me
is the way fellow workers in the Library helped in my pleas for checking
quotations, the way they noted stories I had overlooked; so too how those
kind friends were matched by outsiders, folk with no more connection with
such affairs than that they saw a harmless, if annoying, hobby rider trotting

Introduction 13

his steed out on every possible occasion — not to mention impossibles now
and then. To them all goes hearty thanks, warm assurance of appreciation,
earnest hopes I may some day be able to return those favors and kindnesses.
To list them all or even in part would call for more space than even the most
soft-hearted or “philanthrophic” editor would think of giving, even for a tale
more appealing to more people or more important. Without such help these
notes would have been shorter, fewer, farther from completeness than they
now are hoped for. None of those kindly and ingenuous spirits could have had
any idea that such a performance as this would result. On my shoulders alone
must rest the blame.

Enough, however, for introduction. The waiter should serve the meal, not
force the diner to wait while he spins his philosophy of eating and drinking,
reminds the hungry victim where the fruit came from or how the meat is
dressed or the salad is planned to fit in with the dessert. Turn now to the meal
itself, even if it be far from a feast.

SH
2 À

Wf jf
R YK

I.

THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY
1529

Le mardy XI” jour de may, au matin, furent faits chevaliers environ cin-
quante de nos gens, et eurent chacun l'acollée en passant sous l'équateur, et
fut chantée la messe de Salve sancta parens à nottes pour la solennité du jour,
et prismes un grand poisson nommé albacore et des bonnites, dont fut fait
chaudière pour le souper en solennisant la fest de la chevalerie.

(Le discours de la navigation de Jean et Raoul Parmentier de Dieppe.
Voyage à Sumatra en 1529; Description de l'isle de Sainct-Dominigo.
Publié par M. Schefer. Paris, 1883. p. 20. Recueil de voyages et de docu-
ments pour servir à l'histoire de la géographie.)

This curtain raiser, by Parmentier, is the earliest — so far as I know now — first-hand report
of a ceremony. We see that as the ship crossed the line on the morning of May 11, some fifty
were knighted by the usual accolade, a Mass was sung to mark the solemnity of the day, a big
albacore caught and with some bonitos was set to help the jollity if not the solemnity of it all by
sacrificing itself for the evening meal.

Quite good, but plenty of questions come to mind. Were the fifty chosen from crew alone,
passengers excluded? (Does “nos gens” in French ship parlance refer usually to the crew?)
How were the fifty picked? Green hands never this far south before, the usual choice? Did none
escape, neither crew nor passenger? No suggestion here of buying freedom by paying a fine or
offering a gift. Was the singing of a Mass part of the usual daily life or was it sung for this
particular occasion on this day? Note how nothing is said as to the ceremony itself except the
stroke of the sword on the back, the usual accolade for knighthood. No shaving, no baptising,
no pranks? Note too how a ceremony like this is accepted as usual, normal, traditional, no ex-
planation of what it means or why done. Who gave the accolade? '

The worthy Parmentier, mathematician, map maker, navigator, scholar, was as devout as he
was versatile. Witness the fervor of his Description novvelle des merveilles de ce méde, & de la
dignite de Ihomme, composee en rithme francoyse en maniere de exhortation, Paris, 1531. Was
it beneath his dignity to note such frivolities as an irreverent crew may have staged on this voyage?
Did the readers he aimed at frown at mention in formal print of the modes and manners of the
lower classes? We shall see later how superior and aloof are some of the nobility and gentry when
they have to endure the pranks staged by rude sailors thinking they are doing something amusing
or something they feel gives them some fun.

Some three centuries later we hear how young Charles Darwin notes his experience in his diary
giving a refreshing tale of the ducking and frolicing, but the official account of the voyage of the
Beagle says never a word about such things, quite properly for the formal record. And when Cook
made his crossing he says nothing when writing as commander of the ship. Some of us, however,
are happy that Sir Joseph Banks set the story down in some charming detail in his diary, which,
to be sure, had to wait for publication almost to our own day.

French tales usually talk about “baptéme” rather than accolades of knighthood, but the Italian
encyclopedia in 1988, as already noted, says the French call us chevaliers of the sea once we have
endured the crossing of equator or the Tropic.

And it is worthy to note too how the clergy look on the ceremony with approval or disapproval,
largely a matter of personality, I suppose. Sometimes they forbid it as sacrilegious, more often they
accept it, now and then enter into it all as harmless fun making. The first Russian crossing in 1803
speaks with particular care of the Mass sung then.

The marking of the “solennité du jour” by the “messe de Salve sancta parens à nottes” does
indeed show that Parmentier and his companions felt that something important had taken place,
the first step into the new world where the sun stood in the north. So special an event called for
special attention, even a high mass. That meant singing. Singing “a nottes,” my friend Dr. Otto
Kinkeldey, learned and wise in musicology, tells me meant that “On this solemn occasion they
must have had some among their company who were experienced singers, who could read music.
They sang ‘from notes.’ The composition was not a simple plain song which might have been sung

[15]

16 Crossing the Line
1529, continued

from memory. It was a choral work for 8, 4, or 5 voices by some skilled composer, who made a
polyphonic mass-setting based on the traditional plain song melody of Salve sancta parens. It was
the regular practice in the sixteenth century and earlier to use a piece of plain song or even a tune
of a secular song as the basis for artistic elaboration in a complicated contrapuntal or polyphonic
composition for several voices.”

The “messe” and the “solennité du jour” fit neatly with the daily devotions of Columbus on his
first voyage — and not unprobably on others — as noted already in quotation from Professor
Samuel Eliot Morison’s inviting Admiral of the Ocean Sea. It is well worth keeping in mind his
telling how important a part religious ceremony played on shipboard — at least then — day by
day. A voyage like this was a real event; the seaman was deeply religious; some formal notice of
the step was called for.

An appreciation of “An explorer-poet: Jean Parmentier” by Professor J. C. Lapp (Modern
Language Quarterly, Mar., 1945, v. 6, p. 83-92) pays fitting tribute to the man, his deeds, his
poetry, his devoutness, his feeling about the majesty and the emotional aspects of the sea; one of
the earliest minds I think of as noting the beauty as well as the terrors of the great waters.

As to the text M. Schefer writes in his Introduction (p. xxviii) that “M. Estancelin . . . a publié
en 1832 dans ses Recherches sur les navigateurs normands, le texte du voyage de Jean Parmentier
à Sumatra, d’apres la copie d’un manuscrit appartenant alors à M. Tarbe, libraire à Sens. Ce manu-
scrit, intitulé Voiage aux Indes orientalles, Dieppe, 1529, est incorrect et presente des lacunes;
jen ai signalé les principales dans l'édition que je donne aujourd’hui d’aprés un manuscrit acquis
par moi à Paris, il y a déjà de longues années . . . La relation du voyage de Parmentier et la ‘descrip-
tion de l’isle de Saint-Dominigo’ forment la fin du volume et comprennent soixante et onze feuillets
de papier oriental de diverses couleurs, non chiffrés. L'écriture moulée est fort belle et date des
premières années du XVIII° siècle.”

The text is printed also in Mélusine, v. 2 (Paris, 1884-5), column 275, based on the 1832 issue.
“Acollée,” appears as “accollée,” “albacore” as albatore;” also some changes in punctuation.

1557

Cedit iour doncques quatrieme de Feurier, que nous passasmes le Centre du
monde, les Matelots firet les ceremonies par eux accoustumees en ce tant
fascheux & dangereux passage. Assauoir, de lier de cordes & plonger en mer,
ou bien noircir & barbouiller le visage auec vn vieux drappeau frotté au cul
de la chaudiere, ceux qui n’öt iamais passé [Equator pour les en faire
souuenir; toutesfois on se peut racheter & exempter de cela, côme ie fis, en
leur payant le vin.

(Histoire d’vn voyage fait en la terre dv Bresil, avtrement dite Amerique
... par lean de Léry. [LaRochelle,] 1578. p. 41.)

How long does it take to make tradition? Is twenty-eight years a long or a short time? Par-
mentier tells us that in 1529, they knighted the landlubbers, sang a Mass, this to mark the
solemnity of the day and its happenings. Not one word about horseplay. In 1557 — according to
de Léry — the “solemnity” was marked by the sailors following customs well established and
recognized, sanctioned by tradition, differing from the performance of our own day only in the time
and in the nationality of the players. Ducking, blacking faces, shaving — could the old tar of those
days look at the high jinks aboard ship today, he would shake his head gravely and contemplatively
as he said “Just as we did it. More men, more machinery. Right in line with the good old days and
their ways. Just to give them something to remember. Buy a drink and you're let off!”

Did the twenty-eight years between 1529 and 1557 firmly fix the tradition? If it took more than
that space of time, how much farther back is the beginning, and who started it, and when?

De Léry is happily revealing and human in plenty of ways. For instance, he tells how calms and
contrary winds held them up, the heat spoiling the biscuits, and the water going so bad they had
to hold their noses when they tried to drink it. He marvels at the way ships made of wood can
stand the pounding of the sea, even when the storm is so heavy that seamen with long service

The Sixteenth Century 107

behind them dare not try to stand against it. He goes back to the Psalmist and to Job as he talks
about seafaring folk and the terrors of the deep. With real glee he tells how Jean de Meun, the
pilot, quite illiterate, but by experience wise about sea charts and astrolabes and Jacob’s staffs,
roundly put to shame a passenger puffed up with and proud of his book learning as he talked
about the weather and life at sea.

The same text with minor variations of spelling and punctuation is found in other editions:
French at Geneva, 1585, 1586, 1599, 1600, 1611; Dutch at Amsterdam, 1597; Latin at Geneva,
1586, 1594; German at Miinster, 1794. A translation into Portuguese “integral e notas de Sérgio
Milliet, segundo a ediçäo de Paul Gaffarel com o Coléquio na lingua brasilica e notas tupinolögicas
de Plinio Ayrosa” came out at Säo Paulo in 1941 as v. 7 of the Biblioteca historica Brasileira, edited
by Rubens Borba de Moraes.

1583

The 24.of Aprill we fell upon the coaste of Guinea, which beginneth at nine
degrees, and stretcheth untill wee come under the Equinoctiall, where wee
have much thunder, lightning, and many showers of raine, with stormes of
wind, which passe swiftly over, & yet fall with such force, that at every shower
we are forced to strike sayle, and let the maine yeard fall to the middle of the
mast, and many times cleane down, sometimes ten or twelve times every day:
there wee finde a most extreame heate, so that all the water in the ship
stinketh, whereby men are forced to stop their noses when they drinke, but
when wee are past the Equinoctiall it is good againe, and the nearer wee are
unto the land, the more it stormeth, raineth, thundreth and calmeth: so that
most commonly the shippes are at the least two monthes before they can
passe the line: ...

The 26 of May wee passed the Equinoctiall line which runneth through
the middle of the Iland of Saint Thomas, by the coast of Guinea, and then
wee began to see the south star, and to loose the north star, and founde the
sunne at twelve of the clocke at noone to be in the north, and after that we had
a south east [wind, called a] general wind, which in those partes bloweth all
the yeare through.

The 29 of May being Whitsonday, the ships of an ancient custome, doe
use to chuse an Emperour among themselves, and to change all the officers
in the ship, and to hold a great feast, which continueth three or foure
days together, which wee observing chose an Emperour, and being at our
banket, by meanes of certaine words that passed out of some of their mouthes,
there fell great strife and contention among us, which proceeded so farre,
that the tables were throwne downe and lay on the ground, and at the least a
hundred rapiers drawne, without respecting the Captaine or any other, for he
lay under foote, and they trod upon him, and had killed each other, and
thereby had cast the ship away, if the Archbishop had not come out of his
chamber among them, willing them to cease, wherewith they stayed their
hands, who presently commaunded every man on paine of death, that all
their Rapiers, Poynyardes, and other weapons should bee brought into his
chamber, which was done, whereby all thinges were pacified, the first and

18 Crossing the Line
1583, continued

principall beginners being punished and layd in irons, by which meanes
they were quiet.

(The voyage of John Huyghen van Linschoten to the East Indies. From
the old English translation of 1598. The first book, containing his descrip-
tion of the East in two volumes. Edited, the first volume by the late Arthur
Coke Burnell, Ph.D., C.L.E., of the Madras civil service. London: Hakluyt
Society, 1885. Works, no. 70. v. 1, p. 15-18.)

Worth more than passing note is this classic in the tales of the expansion of western Europe into
the Far East by way of the sea. We get here a vivid picture of the discomforts of equatorial cross-
ings. The “ancient custome” of choosing “an Emperour” and changing “all the officers in the ship”
gives more detail about the performance than we get otherwise. So too the holding of “a great
feast, which continueth three or foure days together” is unusual, most of the stories saying clearly
and plainly that the affair was over quickly with prompt return to normal ship’s life and routine.
With the good humored give-and-take of the dinner table turning into a drunken brawl, with the
captain lying “under foote,” it is scarcely surprising to hear that they nearly “thereby had cast
the ship away.”

This Hakluyt Society edition (p. 17) has the following footnote to the part the Archbishop
played in quieting the riot and ordering “euery man on paine of death” to stack his side arms in
the Archbishop’s cabin:

“This is mistranslated, no doubt for political reasons. It should be: “Had not the Arch-
bishop come out of his cabin into the crowd with great lamentations and gestures, on
which they began to be quiet, and he ordered them, on pain of excommunication, to
bring all rapiers, poniards, and arms to his cabin, which was at once done, with which
all was again at peace.’ The Archbishop’s threat of ‘pain of death’ is absurd, but was
probably thought quite correct in England in 1598. Excommunication by Rome was
then practically known, and death was a common punishment for trifling offences,
and the threat (as really made) wouid not have made the good Portuguese prelate look
so odious. Linschoten’s original Dutch is: “So den Aerts-bisschop met en hadde
ghecomen uyt zijn camer onder den hoop met groot ghecrijt ende ghebeyr, waerover
zy begosten stil te houden, den welcken terstont gheboodt op de verbuerte van den
Ban, datse alle Rappieren, Pongiarden, ende al ‘tgheweer souden brenghen in zyn
Camer, ‘twelck terstondt gheschiede, waer mede alle dinck weder in vrede quam.’ These
foolish doings on crossing the Line continued down to quite recent times.

“The Latin (1599) has: ‘nisi Archiepiscopus ex cubiculo erumpens, magnis cla-
moribus seditionem composuisset, ensesque omnes ac pugiones abstulisset, commi-
natus excommunicationis notam in eos, qui novas res moliri conarentur.

There is neither need nor space here for anything more than a few notes about early editions
of this best seller of four centuries ago. The Dutch original Itinerario, uoyage ofte Schipvaert .. .
naer Oost ofte Portugaels Jndien is dated Amsterdam, 1596, with later issues of 1605, 1614,
1623, 1644. The Latin Navigatio ac itinerarivm in orientalem sive Lositanorum Indiam came
out at The Hague, 1599; the French Histoire de la navigation bears Amsterdam for place and
1610, 1619, 1638 for dates. There are many later reprints in whole or in part.

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
1615

[August] The 18. and 19. we lay by the wind, resoluing to hold our course for
Sierra Liona . . . and were forced to lie by the weather, it being then too late
to go speedily vnder the Line. ...

[October] The 19. and 20. about noone we past the equinoctiall line, and had
a south east and a south southeast winde vntill the 24.

( Willem Cornelisz Schouten. The relation of a wonderfull voiage. London,
1619. p. 5 and 13.)

Thirty-two years before this crossing another Netherlander saw the sun shift in the heaven,
and set down then his tale of how the ships “of an ancient custome, do chuse an Emperour .. .
and to hold a great feast, which continueth three or foure days together.”

Linschoten’s sounds of revelry are not rivaled by Schouten of Hoorn on this voyage when
he discovered and named Cape Horn. We know too little about Schouten to dare venture
a guess whether he cared too much for safety of his ship to waste a few moments in sailors’
frivolities, or was genial enough to let the crew have its horseplay, navigator enough to log
only the essentials and to pass over any mention of trivials. We do find notes of four other
crossings by him, all told in as matter of fact fashion as the first, though with the 5th, on 24
April 1617 we get a trifle more of the human interest: “The 24. in the morning, wee were the
fift time vnder the Equinoctiall line, and the 28. we saw the north starre, which wee had
not seene in 20. monthes before” (p. 82).

The Dutch original “Iovrnael ofte beschryvinghe van de wonderlijcke reyse ghedaen door
Willem Cornelisz Schouten van Hoorn; inde jaren 1615, 1616, en 1617,” came out at Amsterdam
in 1618. The interest in it and the recognition of its meaning to navigation are shown by the
speed of the translations: “Novi freti, a parte meridionali freti Magellanici,” Amsterdam, 1619;
“Diarium vel descriptio . . . Jtineris,” Amsterdam, 1619; “Iournal, ou description du merveilleux
voyage,” Amstredam (sic), 1618; “Iovmal, ov relation exacte dv voyage,” Paris, 1618; and the
London issue in 1619.

1642

On the 16th of August, 1642, we sailed from Stockholm, in the Lord’s name,
for America, on board the ship Fame, and on the 17th, we arrived at Dahle-
hamn. On the 8d of September, we left that place, and on the 6th, arrived
at Copenhagen. On the 8th, we landed at Helsingör, and on the 12th, at
Gottenburg. On the 1st of November, at noon, we left Gottenburg Castle;
and on the 14th, at about four o'clock in the morning, we were in the
Spanish Sea. On the 21st, about mid-day, we sailed along the coast of
Portugal, where the crew performed the ceremony of tropical baptism. It is
the custom with seamen, when they cross the equinoctial line, to dip in the
water those who have never crossed it before. One may be exempted from
that ceremony, by giving a little money to the sailors, and in that case they
receive only a little sprinkling.

(A short description of the Province of New Sweden .. . By Thomas Cam-
panius Holm. ... Translated . . . by Peter S. Du Ponceau. Memoirs of the
Historical Society of Pennsylvania. v. 3, p. 70. Philadelphia, 1834.)

[19]

20 Crossing the Line

1642, continued
Enough minor variations justify adding the original Swedish as found on page 63 of Kort
beskrifning om provincien Nya Swerige uti America . . . utzirad af Thomas Campanius Holm.

Stockholm: Tryckt uti Kongl. boktr., 1702:

Anno 1642, den 16. Augusti, begofwe wj oss i Herrans Namn uppa resan ifran Stock-
holm til America pa Skeppet Fama, och kommo 17. til Dahlehamn. Den 8. Sept. lade
wj derifran och kommo 6. til Köpenhamn. Den 8. kommo wj om aftonen til Hälsingor
och 12. til Göteborg. Den 1. November lade wj ut ifrän Göteborgs Slott kl. 12. och
kommo 14. i Spanska Siön, om margonen kl. 4. wid pass. Den 21. middagstjd seglade
wj Portugal forbj, der the skulle dépas (ty Skeppare hafwa en sedwana, at när
the komma under Lineam Ædquinoctialem, pläga the doppa dem uti wattnet som
tilförene intet hafwa passerat Linien: den som för sadant wil blifwa fri, han maste
spändera drikspenningar, sa warder han allenast med wattn öfwerstänkter) det lag
pa wänster sidan om oss söder ut.

Our first performance for the crossing of the Tropic of Cancer rather than the equator.
Other references to the variation turn up later.

1645

Te vous diray, Messieurs, comme c’est vne regle infaillible à tous ceux qui n'ont
iamais passé les susdits Ras Blanchards, Pic de Cannaries, & Cap de Blanc,
ou Tropiques, & Equinoxe, d’estre en chacun de ces lieux ondoyés, ou baptisés
d’vne tassée, ou sceillée d’eau de mer sur la teste nué, comme par forme de
Baptesme, fief, ou recognoissance à Neptune, comme s’il nous calmoit là ses
flots, & fauorisast de vents propices, & fauorables a y cingler, & les passer sans
aucun danger, bien quils soyent dangereux en leurs approches, & verita-
blement espineux; & ie trouue que ces susdittes ceremonies sont plustost vn
effect d’Idolatrie, qu’vn recours à la Diuinité, ayans accoustumé de les
practiquer, pour se ressouuenir d'y auoir passé, en y apportant mesmes
plusieurs grandes ceremonies, plustost niaiseries, lesquelles toutesfois ie ne
dois obmettre, pour estre icelles comme de l'essence d’vne longue nauigation;
me faschant neantmoins de noircir la blancheur de ce papier de semblables
extrauagances, lesquelles ne visent, & ne tendent toutes que pour donner du
plaisir aux spectateurs, comme Pilottes, & Mattelots, ausquels il faut faire des
presens, de quelques bouteilles d’eaux de vie, ou d’autres boissons corrosiues,
qui toutesfois par apres nous sont dispersées par brigades, ou plats, esquels
on est sept és Nauires François, & que cinq és Anglois, trois Flamans, & autres.
Nul ne sen peut exempter, non pas mesmes le Capitaine du bord, ny les
Pilottes, sinon qu'ils y eussent passé; où lors du susdit Baptesme, l’on nous
fait vne noirceur au milieu du front, en forme de croix, & ce du suif du cul de
la poisle; & pour ceux qui ne font quelque liberalité, en ces occurrences, ils
sont comme presque noyés d’eau sur le Tillac, où l’on leur lie & attache le
bras auec vne cordellette, ou fil de carret, que l’on leur tire en suitte par vne
petite pollie, sans faire toutesfois du mal, & alors vn Mattelot, lequel est monté
sur l’affut d’vn Canon, leur verse vn plein bidon d’eau de mer, goutte a goutte
dans le bras gauche; ce qui vient à distiller le long d’iceluy iusques au cœur,
& à l'heure l’eau si semble, leur comme congelle le sang dans leurs veines, ce

The Seventeenth Century 21

qui leur cause des frissons, & certains tremoussemens sympathiques de tous
leurs membres, & tels, que ie ne vous les sçaurois verballement exprimer; quoy
que par vn effect de ma curiosité, faye voulu subir cette peine; c'est pourquoy,
ie ne sçaurois consacrer à l’oubly, ce susdit procedé, quoy que risible, & du
tout inepte...

(Guillaume Coppier. Histoire et voyage des Indes Occidentales; et de
plusieurs autres regions maritimes et esloignées, diuisé en deux liures.
Lyon, 1645. p. 47-48. )

The decidedly rambling text needs no translation in full (almost defies it); may well be sum-
marized thus: I will say, gentlemen, that it is an unbroken rule for all that have never passed the
Ras Blanchards [Pointe du Raz], the Peak of the Canaries, Cape Blanc, or the Tropics or the
equator, at each of those places to be baptised by a cupful of sea water dashed on his bare head.
This form of baptism is in the way of paying homage to or recognition of Neptune as if asking
him then and there to calm the waves and give us favoring winds to let us pass with no danger;
for these places are dangerous to approach, really prickly. I feel these ceremonies are rather real
bits of idolatry than prayers to God. We have grown used to such performances as reminders
of our having passed those places; and in our staging of such ceremonies, really tomfolleries.
I should not fail to speak about them as necessary on long voyages, though it annoys me to
blacken white paper with the tale of such excesses. They are planned and aimed at nothing more
than making fun for the participants, to whom you have to give something like bottles of brandy
or some other ardent liquor; which with us is divided among the ship’s messes by sevens, five by
the English, three by the Flemings and others. Nobody can escape, not even the captain or the
pilot, unless he has gone through it before. When staging the baptising they blacken your face
by a cross smudged on from the soot on bottom of the kettle. Stingy fellows are trussed up tightly
with ropes and then a sailor seated on a gun carriage empties on them, drop by drop, on the left
arm, a whole tank full of sea water and after an hour or so it congeals his blood, brings on
shivers all over and tremblings of all his members too severe for me to tell about. Out of
curiosity I wanted to undergo such a punishment, and as result I have something never to forget,
even if it is ludicrous and unfitting.

In this account, just summarized, the drop-by-drop torture is unusual, indeed unique, so far
as I recall; and I wonder if the text really means to say that whenever you passed the Raz (the exit
from the English Channel) or the Peak of the Canaries or Cape Blanche this full ordeal was
always inflicted?

1654

La troisiéme chose, est vne autant ancienne que ridicule & plaisante cou-
stume, pratiquée à l'endroit de ceux qui font de longs voyages sur mer. C’est
qu’arriuant sous la ligne du Tropique du cancer (ou deux fois l’année on a
le Soleil verticulement opposé, sans qu'à midy il puisse faire ombre à vne
chose droite.) On fait de grands preparatifs, comme pour celebrer quelque
feste, ou plutost quelque Bachadale [misprint for Bachanale]. Tous les
officiers du nauire shabillent le plus grotesquement et boufonnement qu'ils
peuuent. La pluspart sont armez de tridents, de harpons, et autres instrumens
de marine: les autres courent aux poiles, broches, chaudrons, l’eschefrites,
et semblables vstensilles de cuisine; ils se barboüillent le visage auec le
noir qu'ils prennent au dessous des marmittes, et se rendent si hideux et
si laids, qu'on les estimeroit de veritables demons. Le Pilote les met tous
en rang, & marche à la teste, tenant d’vne main vne petite carte marine,
& de l’autre vne astrolabe, ou baston de Iacob, qui sont les marques de sa
dignité. Cependant, les tambours & les trompettes sonnent en grande alle-

22 Crossing the Line
1654, continued

gresse, & cette boufonne compagnie traissaille de ioye, pendant que ceux
qui n’ont pas encore passé le tropique, se depoüillent et se disposent à estre
baignez: elle fait deux ou trois tours en ce mascarade &quipage, apres lesquels
le Pilote prend séance sur la damette, d’où il depesche incontinent deux
de ses officiers, habillez comme je l’ay décrit, vers le plus apparent de ceux
qui doiuent estre lauez, en suite le contraignent & tous les autres pareillement,
à venir prester serment sur la carte, qu’ils feront observer les mesmes choses
à ceux qui passeront en leur compagnie; ce qu'ayant tous iure, on leur fait
promettre de donner quelqu'aumosne aux pauvres, & de contribuer à la
bonne chere de deux iours, par quelque bouteille de vin, langue de boeuf,
jambon, ou autres raffraischissemens. Ce qu'estant fait, on commence à
baigner. Nous fusmes traitez fort courtoisement, et auec plus de ciuilité que
nous n’en attendions des gens de mer, ils nous versent seulement vn verre
d’eau sur la teste: mais tous les autres passagers, hommes et femmes sans ex-
ception, furent tant lauez, qu'en verité ils me faisoient pitié. On les plongeoit
trois ou quatre fois dans vne grande cuve pleine d’eau de mer, où on les laissoit
assez long-temps boire tout leur saoiil; au sortir de là, on leur jettoit une telle
quantité d’eau sur la teste, qu'une demy-heure apres ils ne se pouuoient pas
reconnoistre, tant ils en estoient estourdis. En fin, toute cette ceremonie se
termine par des resiouyssances & débauches excessiues.

Ie me suis fort curieusement enquis à plusieurs gens de marine, pour ap-
prendre quelque chose de l'institution de cette coustume, sans en auoir
iamais pû tirer vne bonne raison. Les Hollandois tiennent que c'est pour se
guarantir de plusieurs maladies qu'on pourroit contracter par ce grand
changement de climat: c'est pourquoy ils se baignent tous dans la mer,
aussi bien ceux qui y ont desia passé que les autres. Cette raison n'est pas
conuainquante; car il ne paroist pas que ceux qui ne se baignent point,
soient plus tourmentez et affligez que les autres: Pour moi, ie crois que
cela vient de ce que ceux qui furent les premiers si hardis, que de pousser
leurs voiles iusques dans les Zones torrides, lesquelles iusqu’alors auoient
esté tenués par sainct Augustin, & beaucoup d’autres, pour des lieux secs,
steriles & inhabitables: Ces gens, dis-je, se voyant comme entrer dans vn
autre monde, firent vne sorte d’allusion au baptéme que l’on donne aux
Chrestiens apres leur naissance: & en effet, on se sert encore du mot de
baptiser sous la tropique, pour exprimer cette ceremonie.

(Histoire générale des isles de S. Christophe, de la Gvadelovpe, de la
Martiniqve, et avtres dans !Amériqve ... Par le R. P. Iean Baptiste dv
Tertre, Religieux de l'Ordre des FF. Prescheurs. Paris, 1654. p. 79-82.)

Several things stand out to give particular interest to this. First, the writer is a member of
the Order of Preaching Friars. Next, in 1654, almost a century and a half after Parmentier, he
calls it “vne autant ancienne que ridicule & plaisante coustume,” both ridiculous and amusing.
Third, the ceremony then was much the same as today: elaborate preparation, every one in
fantastic dress, armed with many kinds of instruments, faces brightened with soot, a grand

procession, the head man — pilot, here — on a throne, victims brought before him to swear
they would insist on like treatment for all to follow, care for the poor, pay their share by a bottle

The Seventeenth Century 23

of wine or something equally pleasing, then take their duckings, finally “toute cette ceremonie
se termine par des resiouyssances & débauches excessives.”

Most important, however, is his telling how carefully he had asked for word as to how it all
began and what it meant, with no satisfaction. Netherlanders explain it as insurance against
tropical disease, the reason for their sea bathing. Dutertre is not convinced, he noting no dif-
ference between bathers and non-bathers as to health. For himself he thinks it all goes back to
those hardy souls that first dared to venture into the regions deemed by St. Augustine and many
others dry, sterile, uninhabitable lakes. When those adventurers found themselves in a new world
they worked out a sort of baptism such as is given to Christians soon after birth, “et en
effet, on se sert encore du mot de baptiser sous la tropique, pour exprimer cette ceremonie.”

That was the best he could do 125 years after Parmentier, and today, 300 years after Du-
tertre, we can say little more as to documentary or legal proof. His surmises differ little
from ours.

Note too how the worthy cleric felt no need to object to the “baptising” as sacrilegious;
indeed he is one of the first to use the phrase “baptiser sous la tropique,” today more usual in
French than the English “crossing the line.”

1658

Ondertusschen behielden wy noch de gewenste Noord-ooste wint, soo dat
verhoopten voorspoedigh de Linie te passeeren: alwaer de Schepen somtijts,
door stilten ofte contrarie winden, een goet getal van dagen komen te consu-
meeren, met een gevolg van rasende koortsen en brandige sieckten in’t volck,
causeerende wegens donlijdelijcke hitte, waer door en bloet en geesten
nootsakelijck moeten komen te ontstecken. Doch ons belangende, quamen
voorspoedigh, en noch in’t laetste van May, soo verre in’t Zuyden, dat op de
middagh de Son begonden in’t Norrden van ons te sieh; passeerende kort
daer aen de Linie Aequinoctiael; aldaer onsen Macker de Fluyt Leerdam, de
Cours twee streeken westelijcker setten.

(Wouter Schoutens Oost-Indische voyagie. t Amsterdam, 1676. p. 4.)

It was another Schouten, Willem Cornelisz Schouten, of Hoorn, who crossed in 1615 and told
us nothing more about the event than that he crossed about noon and had a south southeast wind.
His discovery of Cape Horn was recognized at the time as of real importance. That seems to
justify including it in this gathering, even if it tells us nothing about how or whether the shift in
the sun was marked.

Once more does a Schouten, Wouten Schouten this time, sail to the East Indies; once more
does a Schouten cross the line and say nothing about it other than to give thanks for his good luck
in making speedy passage. Though neither Schouten tale tells of special ceremonies to mark the
crossing, it seems well to include them as typical logbook entries of outstanding voyages; though
Walter Schouten, to be sure, does talk more about wind and weather condition as affecting health
and conduct than we find in the usual log. The 1658 voyage was important enough to call for a
German translation printed at Amsterdam the same year as the Dutch original, and by the same
publishers, Jacob van Meurs and Johannes van Someren. The German translation done by “J. D.”
tuns as follows for this paragraph:

Inzwischen hatten wir den Nord-Osten Wind stets nach unserm willen, so,
dass wir die Hoffnung machten, die Linie glücklich und bald zu erreichen:
woselbst die Schiffe bissweiln, aus mangel des Windes, still liegen bleiben
müssen, oder durch wiedriges Wetter lange Zeit auffgehalten werden,
wodurch allerley hitzige und tobsüchtige Fieber und Kranckheiten verur-
sachet werden; massen durch die unleidliche Hitze, das Geblüt entzündet
wird. Was uns betrift, schifften wir glücklich under weg, und kamen noch

24 Crossing the Line
1658, continued

in dem zu endlauffenden May, so weit ins Süden hinein, dass wir am Mittag
die Sonne in Norden vor uns, ansichtig wurden: worauff wir kurtz hernach
die Tag-und Nacht gleichmachende Linie besegelten; es beliebte aber unserm
Mitgefehrten in der Fluyte Leerdam, seine Fahrt zween Grad Westlicher,
als wir, einzurichten.

(Ost-Jndische Reyse . . . Alles beschrieben durch Mt Walter Schultzen

. .. aus dem niederländischen ins hochteutsche übergesetzet durch J. D.
Jn Amsterdam, 1676. p. 3.)

So too the version in French:

Cependant faisant toujours route, à la faveur d'un vent de Nord-est, nous
avancames tellement vers le Sud, qu'à midi nous commençâmes à voir le
Soleil au Nord, & peu après nous achevämes de passer la Ligne équinoxiale .. .

On ne peut passer sous la Ligne avec moins d’incommodite que nous fimes,
ce qu il faut atribuer au peu de tems que nous fümes dessous, étant poussez
d’un vent favorable. Car il n’y a nul lieu de douter de ce que tant de gens ont
dit & écrit touchant les peines qu'ils avoient soufertes en la passant. C'est
qu'ils y avoient demeuré un tems considérable, étant arrêtez par les calmes,
ou par des vents contraires. Or la chaleur se faisant encore plus sentir & étant
plus incommode par le calme que par un autre tems, il est certain quelle met
le sang & les esprits dans une trop grande agitation; ce qui engendre des
fiévres ardentes, ou cause un relâchement dans toute l’œconomie du corps,
d’où s'ensuit l’état dont se sont plaints ceux qui n’ont pas eu, comme nous, le
bonheur de traverser promtement un climat si dangereux.

(Voiage de Gautier Schouten aux Indes Orientales. In: [Renneville, R.
A. C. de] Recueil des voiages. A Amsterdam, 1702-1707. v. 6, p. 5-6.)

With minor variations of spelling the same text appears in Voyage de Gautier Schouten aux
Indes Orientales, commencé Tan 1658. & fini Tan 1665. Traduit du hollandois . . . Nouvelle édi-
tion. A Rouen, 1725. v. 1, p. 6-7. Note the difference between the second paragraph in the French
text and the Dutch or German.

1663

La Chaloupe revenue a bord, nous mimes a la voile pour continuer notre
route, que nous fimes heuresement, à l'exception de la Ligne, où le calme
nous prit. Durant quatre jours, nous y souffrimes beaucoup, de l’excessive
chaleur qu'il y faisoit. Les Matelots eurent le temps de faire le Baptême im-
pertinent, qu'ils ont accoûtomé de faire en ce lieu. Cette cerémonie super-
stitieuse a été décrite tant de fois par ceux qui ont donné la Relation de leur
Voyage au Public, que je crois qu'il est inutile d’en parler ici; je me conten-
terai de dire, que tous ceux qui n’ont jamais passé la Ligne, sont obligez de
souffrir qu'on les baptise, c’est à-dire, qu’on les prenne par les pieds, & qu’on
les trempe dans une grande cuve d’eau par trois fois; apres avoir juré qu'ils
observeront à l'égard des autres cette coûtume inviolable: en faisant ce
serment, ils ont la main sur des Cartes Hidrographiques, ou sur les Registres

The Seventeenth Century 25

du Bâtiment. Pour s’en exempter, on donne quelque chose aux Matelots, qui
en ce cas ne vous jettent que quelque potée d’eau sur la tête. Les Aumöniers &
les Missionaires les plus zelez, ont beau Zeur representer la maniere indigne,
dont ils prophanent le Sacrement le plus saint de notre Religion; jusqu'à
present ils y ont perdu le fruit de leur exhortation.

(Carpeau Du Saussay. Voyage de Madagascar . . . par M. de V. Paris,
1722. p. 57-58.)

Thanks to calms, the crew had time to do their baptising, quite unfitting but always their
custom at this point. This superstitious rite has been described so often by other travelers as to
make it hardly worth mention here. Let me say, however, that everyone that has not crossed the
line before must be baptised, that is to say, be grabbed by the feet and soaked thrice in a big
bath, first having sworn on the ship’s chart or register that he will do the same to everyone else
that follows him. Tip the sailors, and you can buy yourself off, having only a bit of water dropped
on your head. Really zealous clergymen protest it all as a sacrilege on our most sacred religious
rite, but so far their protest has no fruit to show.

1666

Wee set sail from Havre de Grace, in France, in a Ship called St. John, the
second day of May, in the year 1666. Our Vessel was equipp’t with eight and
twenty Guns, twenty Mariners, and two hundred and twenty Passengers . . .
Having stor’d our selves with fresh Provisions at this place, we prosecuted
our Voyage, designing to pass by the Ras of Fonteneau, and not expose our
selves to the Sorlingues, fearing the English Vessels that were crusing there-
abouts to meet us. This River Ras is of a current very strong and rapid, which
rowling over many Rocks, disgorgeth it self into the Sea, on the coast of
France, in the latitude of eight and forty degrees, and ten minutes. For which
reason this passage is very dangerous; all the Rocks as yet, being not
thoroughly known.

Here, I shall not omit to mention the ceremony, which at this passage, and
some other places, is used by the Mariners, and by them called Baptism,
altho it may seem, either little to our purpose, or of no use. The Masters
Mate cloathed himself with a ridiculous sort of garment, that reached unto
his feet, and on his head he put a sutable Cap, which was made very burlesque.
In his right hand he placed a naked wooden sword; and, in his left, a pot full
of ink. His face was horribly blackt with soot, and his neck adorn’d with a
Collar of many little pieces of wood. Being thus apparell’d, he commanded
to be call’d before him every one of them, who had never passed that danger-
ous place before. And then causing them to kneel down in his presence, he
made the sign of the Cross upon their foreheads, with ink; and gave each one
a stroke on the shoulders with his wooden sword. Mean while the standers by
did cast a Bucket of water, upon every mans head; and this was the conclu-
sion of the ceremony. But, that being ended, every one of the Baptised, is
obliged to give a Bottle of Brandy for his offering; placing it nigh the main
Mast, and without speaking a word; even those, who have no such liquor,
being not excused from this performance. In case the Vessel never passed
that way before, the Captain is obliged to distribute some Wine among the

26 Crossing the Line

1666, continued

Mariners, and other people, in the Ship. But, as for other gifts, which the
newly baptized do frequently offer, they are divided among the old Sea-men;
and of them, they make a Banquet, among themselves.

The Hollanders likewise do use to baptize such as never passed that way
before. And not only at the passage abovementioned, but also at the Rocks
called Berlingues, nigh the coast of Portugal, in the latitude of thirty nine de-
grees, and forty minutes, (as being a passage very dangerous, especially by
night, when, through the obscurity thereof, the Rocks are not distinguishable,
by reason the Land is very high,) they use some such ceremony. But their
manner of Baptizing is much distinct from that we have described above,
performed by the French. He therefore, that is to be baptized, is fastned,
and hoised up three times at the main yard’s end, as if he were a Criminal.
If he be hoised.the fourth time, in the name of the Prince of Orange, or of
the Captain of the Vessel, his honour is more than ordinary. Thus they
are dipped, every one, several times in the main Ocean. But he that is the
first dipp’d, hath the honour of being saluted with a Gun. Such as are not
willing to fall, are bound to pay twelve pence, for their ransom: if he be an
Officer in the Ship, two shillings: and if a Passenger, according to their
pleasure. In case the Ship did never pass that way before, the Captain is bound
to give a small Runlet of Wine; which if he doth not perform, the Mariners
may cut off the Stem of the Vessel. All the profit, which accrueth by this cere-
mony, is kept by the Masters Mate; who after reaching their Port, doth
usually lay it out in wine, which is drank amongst the ancient Seamen. Some
will say this ceremony was instituted by the Emperour Charls the Fifth;
howsoever it is not found amongst his Laws. But here I leave these customes
of the Sea; and shall return unto our Voyage. ...

This uncouthsom weather being spent, we had again the use of very
favourable gales untill we came unto the Tropick of Cancer. This Tropick
is nothing else, but an imaginary circle, which Astrologers have invented in
the Heavens, and serveth as a period to the progress of the Sun towards the
North-pole. It is placed in the latitude of three and twenty degrees, and thirty
minutes, under the Line. Here we were baptized the second time, after the
same manner as before. The French do alwayes perform this Ceremony at
this Tropick; as also under the Tropick of Capricornus towards the South.

(Bucaniers of America: or, A true account of the most remarkable assaults
committed of late years upon the coasts of the West-Indies, by the
bucaniers of Jamaica and Tortuga, both English and French . . . Written
originally in Dutch, by John Esquemeling . . . and thence translated into
Spanish . . . Now faithfully rendred into English. London: Printed for
William Crooke, 1684-85. p. 1-6.)

Alexander Olivier Exquemelin (made John Esquemeling in the English translation of 1684)
must have been a doughty warrior if he carried a sword as effective as his pen. He is the first to
tell about the passing of the Ras as place for the ceremony. So too, with Dutertre, he shows more
than passing curiosity as to the beginning of it all. Not satisfied with laying it to the credit of

The Seventeenth Century 27

Charles the Fifth, he seems to have gone behind the returns and himself looked at, or got
someone else to go through, the “Laws” of the Emperor. He tells too that the French have the
same performance at the Tropic of Capricorn. The French translation of Esquemeling adds
“sous la ligne Equinoxiale” to the two tropics. (p. 5.) With the Buccaneer interests, aims, hopes,
plans, prayers centered in the West Indies it is but natural to find no first-hand word in Esque-
meling about the crossing of the equator. The French has another touch, not in the English, when
it tells how “Le Contre-Maistre du vaisseau s’habille grotesquement avec une longue robe, un
bonnet sur sa teste, & une fraize 4 son col, composée de poulies & de certaines boules de bois
appellées en termes maritimes Pommes de Raques.” (p. 4.)

As with Linschoten and Schouten it is needless to try to give more than an outline of editions
of the original text and its translations: De Americaensche zee-roovers came out at Amsterdam
in 1678. Die americanische See-Räuber at Nürnberg in 1679, Piratas de la America at Colonia
Agrippina in 1681, Bucaniers of America at London in 1684-85; Histoire des avanturiers qui se
sont signalez dans les Indes at Paris in 1686.

Mélusine, v. 2 (1884-5) column 275-6, reprints in part from the Paris edition of 1775 and
includes the following: “A l’égard des garçons au-dessous de quinze ans, ils les mettent sous des
mannes d’osier et leur jettent plusiers seaux d’eau sur le corps. Ils en font de même pour tous les
animaux qui sont dans le navire . . . Les Hollandois ne font cette cérémonie qu'au passage du Raz
et des Barlingots ou rochers qui sont devant la riviére de Lisbonne, en Portugal, et encore a
entrée de la mer Baltique, qu'ils nomment le Zund . . . Les Hollandais tiennent que l’eau qu'on
jette sur les personnes qui doivent passer la ligne les garantit de plusiers maladies qu’elles
pourraient contracter par le changement de climat, et pour ce sujet presque tous se baignent
dans la mer, tant ceux qui ont passé sous la ligne que ceux qui n’y ont point encore passé.”

Note how under 1690 we get a similar story of the threat to the captain of a ship first crossing
the line if he fails to “give something to save the beakhead of his ship.” So too, the word about
the Tagus river for Portugal and the entrance to the Baltic.

1667

Les Portugais ont accoûtumé de faire certaines rejoüissances ou Festes pour
demander à Dieu l’heureux succez d’un voyage si dangereux. Ils ne manquent
pas aussi d'observer cette ancienne coutume: Ceux qui n’ont jamais este sous
la Ligne sont obligez de payer à ceux du vaisseau quelque argent, quelque
chose à manger, ou quelqu autre marchädise, sans qu'aucun en soit exempté,
quoy que ce soient mesmes des Capucins, desquels ils prennêt des Chapelets,
Agnus Dei, ou choses séblables, qui estant mises à l’encan, du provenu on en
fait dire des Messes pour les Ames du Purgatoire. S’il s’en trouve quelqu'un
d’avaricieux qui leur dispute ce tribut, les Mariniers vestus en Sergés le
côduisent garrotté devant un tribunal où est assis un Marinier en robe, qui
faisant l'Office de Iuge l’interroge, l'écoute & prononce Sentence contre luy,
d’estre plongé trois fois dans la mer en cette maniere. Il y a une polie de fer
attachée au traversier de l'arbre: on passe une corde dont le Criminel est
lie, & laquelle estant lâchée on le laisse aller trois fois sous l’eau, & il ne manque
gueres dy avoir toujours quelqu’um pour servir ainsi de passe-temps aux
autres. On pratique encore le mesme au passage du Destroit de Gilbraltar &
du Cap de bône Esperäce.
(Michel Ange de Gattine, & Denys de Carli de Plaisance. Relation

cvrievse et nouvelle d’un voyage de Congo. Fait és années. 1666 &
1667. Lyon, 1680. p. 10-12.)

This is the story of some fifteen Capuchins sent as missionaries to the Congo under Louis XIV,
Alexander VII then Pope. Their privileges are set forth in detail in their “patentes.” They may
forgive all sins except bigamy and murder, may marry, give Masses, wear secular dress when neces-

28 Crossing the Line

1667, continued

sary, do various other things. The list ends with the privilege of reading forbidden books — except
anything by Machiavelli.

They sailed from Genoa to Lisbon, thence on a Portuguese ship bound for the Congo via Brazil.
Favorable winds helped with speedy passage from Lisbon, taking only three months. Calms near
the equator, however, held them up and gave unbearable heat, no sleep, worms in food, for
fifteen long August days.

As to the crossing, the tale is quite simple: the Portuguese always mark the crossing by prayers
for safe passage on so dangerous a voyage; on your first crossing you have to give something for
prayers for souls in Purgatory, money, something to eat, anything that can be used or be sold at
auction to raise money for the crew; even the Capuchins, sworn to poverty, can give rosaries or
other religious objects. Breathes there a soul too stingy to pay, he is bound and brought before
one of the crew robed as a judge and seated on a throne, who questions him, listens to him, then
sentences him to be ducked thrice in the sea. The victim is bound to a staff and crosspiece, then
is bathed and baptised well. Someone always gives the crew this sort of fun. The same ceremony
marks the passage of the Pillars of Hercules and the Cape of Good Hope.

A question or two comes to mind in connection with this tale. Does Michael Angelo of Gattine
say this is what happened when he crossed the line? Or, does he set it forth here just as a matter
of common knowledge? Was it staged this time as he crossed the equator or first when he passed
from the Mediterranean to the open ocean?

His whole tale is lively, shows keen interest in the daily life at sea, tells how the flying fish
are preyed on by sharks. The preface says the work was translated into French by a “Scavant
Historien” too modest to let his name be used.

The book is listed in both Bibliotheque Nationale and British Museum catalogues. The former
enters it under “Guattini, Le P[ére] Michel Angelo de.” Viaggio del Padre Michael Angelo de
Guattini et del P. Dionigi de Carli da Piacenza . . . dal porto di Genova alla citta di Loanda.. .
con una fedele narrativa delli paesi del Congo, came out at Bologna in 1674. The British Museum
catalogue lists also an edition of Venice, 1679, and an English edition “translated from the Italian”
in 1732 in Churchill’s Voyages.

1678

BAPTESME du Tropique, ou de la Ligne Equinoctiale. C'est une cérèmonie
prophane & ridicule; mais d’un usage inviolable parmy les Gens de l'Equip-
page, qui la pratiquent indispensablement dans la routte des Indes Orientales,
sur ceux qui pour la premiére-fois de leur vie vont passer le Tropique, ou la
Ligne. Chaque Nation la pratique diversement: &mesme les Equippages d'une
mesme Nation l’exercent en differentes maniéres. Voicy une des plus com-
munes parmy les Equippages François. Pour prèparatif, on range sur le Tillac,
tant à Stribord, qu’à Basbord, des bailles pleines d’eau de la Mer, & bordées
par les Matelots rangés en deux hayes, chacun un Seau à la main. Le Maistre-
Valet vient au pied du grand Mats, le visage barboüillé, & le corps revestu
de quantité de Cables roulés tout autour, dont il y en a mesme quelques-uns
qui luy pendent des bras. Il est suivy de cinq ou six Matelots équippés de
mesme, & tient entre les mains quelque Livre de Marine, pour representer le
Livre des Evangiles, & d'ordinaire c’est l’'Hidrographie du pere Fournier, le
Flambeau de la Navigation, ou le Journal du Pilote. L Homme qui doit estre
baptisé se vient mettre à genoux devant le Maistre-valet, qui luy faisant
mettre la main sur ce prétendu Evangile, l'oblige à jurer solemnellement &
de bonne foy, que tout autant de fois qu’il se presentera une occasion de

The Seventeenth Century 29

baptiser d’autres gens, il exercera sur eux les mesmes Cérèmonies qu'on va
exercer sur luy; sans qu'il luy vienne jamais dans la pensée de les exemprer
(sic). Apres avoir fait ce serment, l’homme qui doit estre baptisé, se leve, &
marchant vers avant du vaisseau entre les rangs des bailles & des gens de
l'Equippage qui l’attendent avec des seaux tout pleins, il essuye ceét orage,
& reçoit ainsi le baptesme.

(Georges Guillet de Saint-George. Les arts de homme d’epée. La Haye,
1680. p. 323-324.)

The first quotation is entered under 1678, the date of the first French edition, but is taken from
the Hague reprint of 1680 as I found no copy of 1678 at hand. Note that the English version
sticks to facts when describing the book the victim lays his hand on when taking the oath of
allegiance, omitting any reference to the French phrase “pour representer le Livre des Evangiles;”
and in neither case does the oath have the passage binding the man to watch his step when dealing
with seamen’s wives.

LINE: Navigators usually call the Equator, or Equinoctial-Line, simply the
Line. And at Sea, they have a Ridiculous Ceremony; That when Sailors Cross
the Line, or Tropic, that have not bin there before, they must Pay certain
Forfeitures Demanded of them, or else be Duck’d, or Baptiz’d (as they call
it,) either from the Main-Yard-Arm, or otherwise: This Custom is inviolably
used by most Nations, who practise it indispensably in East India Voyages;
and. each practises it differently: Nay, those of the same Nation puts it in
Execution in different manner. It is perform’d, by some, thus, (by way of
Baptism, as was said before; ) The Ship’s Company Range themselves in two
Lanes, each with a bucket in his Hand, with Tubs of Sea-Water ready by
them: Then the Boatswain's Mate, or some such Officer, comes to the Foot
of the Main-Mast, with Visage all bedawb’d, and his Body all roll’d in Ropes,
some hanging down from his Shoulders; and after him, in Order, there fol-
lows five or six Sailors dress’d in a like manner: and holding in his Hand some
Book of Navigation; he that is to be Baptiz’d comes and Kneels before him,
and puts his Hand upon the Book, and is obliged to Swear solemnly, and
sincerely, That as often as there is Occasion for Baptizing or Ducking Others,
he will exercise upon them, the same Ceremony as they are about to exercise
upon him, without ever thinking to exempt them from it. After this, he arises,
and goes towards the Head of the Vessel, thorow the Lane of Tubs, and Sea-
men who Attend with Buckets full of Water, so that as he goes along, they
throwing it upon him, he receives his Baptism sufficiently.

(The Gentleman’s dictionary. London, 1705, part 3, p. Ddd-4.)

1685

Nos vivres & notre eau ne se sont point corrompus, nous n'avons même presque
pas eu a souffrir du mauvais tems & des calmes; & les chaleurs de la Zone
torride ne nous ont gueres paru plus grandes que celles qu’on sent en France

30 Crossing the Line

1685, continued

au fort de l'Eté. Ainsi nous passämes la Ligne sans aucune incommodité le
septiéme d'Avril, qui étoit un Samedy, avec un petit vent de Nord-Nord-
Oüest vers le trois cent cinquante-huitiéme degré de longitude. Comme il
étoit déja tard, la cérémonie si solemnelle que les gens de Mer ne manquent
jamais de faire en cette occasion, fut remise au lendemain aprés la Messe.
C'est un invention imaginée par les Maîtres, les Pilotes & les autres Officiers
mariniers du Vaisseau, afin d’avoir de l'argent & en acheter des rafraichisse-
mens pour eux & pour Equipage, à laquelle ils luy ont donné fort mal à propos
le nom de baptême.

Monsieur l Ambassadeur ne voulut pas qu’on fit aucune des cérémonies qui
ont quelque rapport aux choses saintes. Chacun donna ce qu'il voulut; & les
autres en furent quittes pour quelques seaux d’eau, qu’on leur jetta sur le
corps; comme il faisoit alors fort grand chaud, Tincommodite ne fut pas
considérable.

(Gui Tachard. Voyage de Siam, des peres jesuites envoyez par le roy aux
Indes & à la Chine. Paris, 1686. p. 46-47.)

15. Mars. Le Nordest revenue. Nous sommes aujourd'hui à 25 degrez 49.
minutes; & il ne fait point chaud: tant mieux, nous allons vite; & dans deux
jours nous vous dirons deux mots du Tropique. On baptise d'ordinaire ceux
qui le passent: mais pour nous, qui avons bien de plus grandes veuës, nous
ne serons baptisez qu'à la ligne. Vous aurez une relation bien éxacte de la
cérémonie.

(L. D. Choisy. Journal ou suite du voyage de Siam. Paris, 1687. p. 13.)

8. Avril. Toujours un petit vent, qui fait faire une lieué par heure. Ainsi la ligne
étant plus que passée, on a fait ce matin la cérémonie. Tous les matelots qui
l'avoient déja passée se sont armez de pincettes, tenailles, marmites & chau-
drons. A leur tête un Tambour plus noir que les Mandarins; & pour Capitaine
un vieillard tremblotant, qui eust fort bien chanté: C’est uno charge bien
pesante, qu'un fardeau de quatre-vingts ans. Cette compagnie, aprés avoir
fait l’éxercice, s’est rangée au tour d’une baie ou baquet plein d’eau, où selon
l'ordre ancien on devoit plonger tous ceux qui n’avoient pas passé la ligne.
Monsieur l'Ambassadeur a comparu le premier, & a promis, en mettant la
main sur une Mappemonde, de faire observer la cérémonie, si jamais il
repassoit la ligne; & pour n’estre point mouillé il a mis dans le bassin une
poignée d'argent. J'en ai fait autant, & tous les Officiers, & tous ceux qui
avoient de quoi se racheter. Les autres ont est plongez dans la baie, & inondez
dune vingtaine de seaux d’eau. On a ramassé prés de soixante écus, qui
serviront à acheter des rafraichissemens pour l'equipage. C’est une coutume

The Seventeenth Century 31

inviolablement observée, d’obliger les mousses à se donner le fouet les uns
aux autres, & par là finir la féte: mais aujourd’hui on etoit las; & les mousses
ont eu repit jusqu'au premier calme, qu'ils seront foüetez d'importance pour
faire venir le vent.

(Choisy, Journal. p. 31-32.)

This voyage of Chevalier Chaumont to Siam and China on behalf of France is one more step in
the constant struggles at that time by France, the Netherlands and Britain for temporal control,
clerical expansion and for colonies in the Far East. Tachard, a Jesuit father, and the Abbé Choisi
(or Choisy) give us two accounts; the latter with more detail of the proceedings. Both tell how
Chaumont, the Ambassador, frowned on possible approaches to sacred rites; both emphasize the
favoring of the ceremony by the officers and crew alike for raising money for the crew by means
of buying freedom from the ducking by a contribution of cash. Choisy is the first to tell how the
eabin boys’ part is delayed till the next calm, when they get a good whipping to bring on a
favorable wind.

Does the trembling old man suggest adoption of an element from northern folklore?

The two ships carrying the party sailed from Brest March 8, 1685. Johann Gottlieb Worm’s
Ost-Indian und Persianische Reisen (Frankfurt, 1745), as quoted later, harks back to Tachard
and Chaumont as authority for saying the rite is purely commercial or financial.

1690

[Sailing from Brest 24 February 1690] We made great way the first three or
four days [after leaving Cape Verde], but the winds beginning to slack as we
approacht the heats of the Line, we did not sail so fast as before; being now
Passion, or the Holy-week, Father Tachard would omit nothing of the holy
exercises practis’d at this time, we sung the Tenebra, we heard Sermons,
and tho’ at sea perform’d all the duties of Christians who have more con-
veniency...

In the mean time we insensibly approacht the Line, the passing of which I
don’t admire people should dread so much, we had nothing now but faint
winds, very inconstant, and almost continual Calms .. .

The way we made this night brought us considerably nearer the Line;
which we long’d to pass, almost quite spent with the intollerable heats we
had endured for fiefteen /sic] days time; only those rains which fell helpt to
abate the rageing heats, and were a great relief to us; at length, after a great
deal of them, accompanied with Thunder and Lightnings Sunday the ninth
of April at ten a clock in the morning we past the Line, which we so im-
patiently long’d for.

Here the Mariners use an execrable custom of a mock Baptism, which is
fitter to be condemned with the utmost severity than describ’d.

( [Abraham Duquesne, the younger]. A new voyage to the East Indies in
the years 1690 and 1691. London: for Daniel Dring, 1696. p. 22-26. )
One more example of clerical disapproval of the ducking. Note under 1654 that Dutertre made

no objection to it, and in 1685 “Monsieur l'Ambassadeur ne voulut pas qu’on fit aucune des
cérémonies qui ont quelque rapport aux choses saintes.”

82 Crossing the Line

1690, continued

We crost the Line the 28d of November, and were oblig’ d to undergoe the
impertinent Ceremony of Baptism, at least all those who had not assisted at
the same Festival before, or would not buy themselves off for a piece of
Money. .

"Tis an ancient Custom, and will not be abolish’d without difficulty; ‘tis also
sometimes done when we pass the Tropicks. I shall in a few words report how
this fine Ceremony was perform’d in our Vessel. One of the Seamen who had
past the Line before, drest himself in Rags, with a beard and Hair of Hards of
Hemp, and black’d his face with Soot and Oil mix’d together. Thus Equip‘d,
holding a Sea-Chart in one Hand, and a Cutlass in the other, with a Pot full
of blacking Stuff standing by him, he presented himself upon Deck attended
by his Suffragans, drest as whimsically as himself, and arm’d with Grid-Irons,
Stoves, Kettles, and little Bells; with which rare Instruments they made a
sort of Musick, the goodness of which may be easily imagin’d.

They call d those that were to be initiated into these Rites and Mysteries
one after another, and having made them sit down on the edge of a Tub full of
Water, they oblig’d them to put one Hand on the Chart, and promise that on
the like Occasion they wou'd do to others what was at that time done to them.
Then they gave them a mark in the Forehead with the stuff out of the Pot,
wetted their faces with Seawater, and askt them if they woud give the Crew
any thing to drink, promising them they woud in such case let them go with-
out doing any further Pennance. Those that gave were presently discharg’d,
and some avoided this unpleasant Præludium to what was to follow, by giving
“em something Extraordinary: It cost me but a Crown to have the same
Privilege with the Latter. As for those who paid nothing they were thrown
into the Tub of Water over Head and Ears, and then wash‘d and scrub d every
where with the Ships Ballast; and I believe this scrubbing and washing lasted
much longer than those who were so treated desir’d.

Our Frigat and Boat having never past the Line, they were subjected to
the same Law. The Captain was oblig’d to give something to save the Beak-
head of his Ship, the Seamen alledging, ‘twas their Right to cut off the Boats
Nose else. The Money the Men got by it, was laid up to be spent on the whole
Crew when opportunity offer d. Every Nation practices this ridiculous Cus-
tom after a different Manner.

(The voyage of Francois Leguat of Bresse to Rodriguez, Mauritius, Java,
and the Cape of Good Hope. Transcribed from the first English edition.
Edited and Annotated by Captain Pasfield Oliver. London: Hakluyt
Society, 1891. v. 1, p. 19-21. Works issued by the Hakluyt Society. v. 82).

The manuscript of the Relation was printed and published in London [in 1708] in French and
English simultaneously, whilst a French edition was published in Amsterdam, and a Dutch version
was printed at Utrecht in the same year. These were followed by German translations printed

The Seventeenth Century 33

at Frankfort and Leipsic in 1709; another French edition was produced in London in 1720,
and an abridged edition appeared later in 1792.

Esquemeling in 1666 tells how the crew threatens to cut off “the stem of the vessel’ if this is
its first trip across the line and if the captain refuses to give “a small runlet of wine.” Here we
hear of another case of the threat.

Superstitiosa, d’altra parte, profana, ed in certo modo ridicola € la cerimonia,
che indispensabilmente osservano tutti quelli, che per la prima volta intra-
prendono il passaggio del Tropico, 6 della Linea equinottiale, per andare
nell’ Indie Orientali. La chiamano Battesimo del Tropico, ed ogni Natione
lo pratica diversamente; anzi li Convogli d’una medesima Natione l’esserci-
tano in diversi modi. Noi ne riportaremo qui un solo, che è il più commune
fra li Francesi.

Collocano sopra il Ponte del Vascello un gran Mastello d’acqua, all’intorno
del quale li Marinari stanno disposti con una secchia piena alla mano. Il Vice
capitano si porta al piede dell’Albero maggiore col viso inviluppato, ed il
corpo coperto da una quantita di corde, che attorniandolo tutto, molte gli
pendono dalle braccia; ed in capo tiene una lunga berretta. Lo seguono
cinque, 0 sei Marinari con una Schiavina sopra le spalle; tiene egli in sue mani
il Portolano, 6 altro Libro di Marina, e gli altri con padelle, e secchie stanno
pronti per solennizzare con lo strepito la fontione. Posti poi que’ Passaggieri,
che non hanno più fatto quel viaggio sopra ad un legno, che attraversa il
Mastello pieno d’acqua; il Vice Capitano col Libro alla manno fa la funtione
del superstitioso Battesimo, e li Marinari la solennizano col ripercuotimento
delle secchie, e padelle, spruzzando discretamente il Passaggiere con l’acqua,
se paga una buona mancia; ma s egli va ristretto in essa, li Marinari levandogli
da sotto il legno, dove sta à sedere, lo fanno cadere nel Mastello, e gli ro-
versciano le secchie piene d’acqua sopra del corpo; onde finisce la solennita
con gran patimento del povero Passaggere [sic], persuaso di sottoporsi a cosi
stravagante inventione, per godere, com’essi dicono, e far godere à tutti gli
altri il viaggio felice, ed esente da tempeste, e da perigli.

(M. V. Coronelli.) Atlante Veneto. [ Venice? 1690.]

Every one crossing the line for the first time must endure this sacrilegious, profane, ridiculous
ceremony, called Baptism of the Tropics, staged differently by different nations, even with varia-
tions within the same nation. Here we give one, the more common on French ships.

A big tub is set on the bridge of the vessel, and sailors stand by with pails full of water. The
mate takes stand at the foot of the main mast, face hidden, body covered with a lot of dangling
ropes, many hanging from his arms, a big cap on his head. He is followed by five or six sailors,
with slave’s garment on shoulders, one holding the Portolano or some other nautical book, the
others with frying pans and pails to solemnize it all by their noise. After this the passengers that
have not crossed before are put on a plank across the tub full of water. The mate with the book
in his hand performs the ritual baptism and the sailors do their solemnizing by beating pails and
frying pans; if the passenger pays something he gets just a sprinkling of water, but if any seems a
bit hesitant, the sailors dump him from his plank into the tub of water; and thus the function is
ended with the long-suffering passengers, victims of so strange a ceremony, to let the sailors have
their fun and to insure for all a happy voyage free from storms and perils.

84 Crossing the Line

1690, continued

Note that this Venice text chooses to give what it calls the standardized French routine. Was
there nothing similar in Venetian or Italian tradition? Note that nothing is said about the passing
of Gibraltar, nor of a visit from Neptune. The Portolano is part of it all, but not a word as to
what is done with it. Probably held out as the Bible to be sworn on? The ducking and the tribute
exacting seem general if not universal. Clerical opposition to the “baptising” seems to be lessened
by bringing in the phrases calling it all superstitious and profane and ridiculous. Or, was clerical
frowning the reason for its non-use by Italian seamen?

1695

Le 26. [of June] sur les 3. heures aprés minuit nous passames le Tropique du
Cancer; a la pointe du jour nous reconnümes la terre de Praya, & aprés midy
se passa a faire les ceremonies du Baptéme, que les Mariniers pratiquent en
ces sortes d’endroits.

(François Froger. Relation d’un voyage fait en 1695. 1696. & 1697. aux
côtes d'Afrique, détroit de Magellan, Brezil, Cayenne & isles Antilles,
par une escadre des vaisseaux du roy, commandée par M. de Gennes. Faite

par le sieur Froger ingenieur volontaire sur le vaisseau le Faucon Anglois.
Paris, 1698, p. 4-5.)

No details about the ceremony, nor mention of repetition at the equator. An English translation
was published the same year in London, the reference there being “the Ceremonies of the
Tropical Baptism or Ducking, which are commonly us’d by the Mariners in those places.”

Notes and Queries, London, March 14, 1891, series 7, v. 11, p. 205, quotes the English text
in full, and American Notes & Queries, v. 1, no. 4, p. 62-8, July 1941, quotes the London version
of 1891 as providing “some interesting information from the point of view of distribution of the
practice and terminology involved.” .

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

1708

Sept. 25. This day, according to custom, we duck’d those that had never pass d
the Tropick before. The manner of doing it was by a Rope thro a Block from
the Main-Yard, to hoist ‘em above half way up to the Yard, and let ’em fall at
once into the Water; having a Stick cross thro their Legs, and well fastned
to the Rope, that they might not be surpriz’d and let go their hold. This
prov d of great use to our fresh-water Sailors, to recover the Colour of their
Skins which were grown very black and nasty. Those that we duck’d after
this manner three times, were about 60, and others that would not undergo it,
chose to pay Half a Crown Fine; the Mony to be levy’d and spent at a publick
Meeting of all the Ships Companys, when we return to England. The Dutch
Men and some English Men desir’d to be duck’d, some six, others eight, ten,
and twelve times, to have the better Title for being treated when they come
home.

(Woodes Rogers. A cruising voyage round the world. London, 1712,

p. 23-24.)

The earliest account from an English sailor — if Woodes Rogers can be called a sailor. The
oldest English description of the crossing of the equator is 1670, of the tropic 1687.

1709

Die Taufe der jungen Matrosen, so die Linie das erste mahl passiren, so, nach
Tachards Meldung, der Ritter Chaumont, als einen Missbrauch des Heil.
Sacraments nicht gestatten wollen, p. 47. heist nichts, und ist eine blosse
Erfindung der See-Officierer, damit sie nur Geld bekommen, um vor sich und
ihre Leute Erfrischungen kaufen zu können, der sie gar unrecht den Nahmen
einer Taufe beylegen, wie dieser Jesuit selbst redet. Herr Worm sagte, dass
man einen Neuling, so nichts darum wiisste, unten am grossen Maste, mit
einem blancken Degen, creutzweise Luft-Streiche iiber den Kopf thun lasse,
mittlerweile aber ein ander, der mit einem Gefäss voll Wasser am Maste in
die Hohe gestiegen, ihn damit begiesse, und über den gantzen Leib nass
mache. Auf Tachards Schiffe gab jeder was er wolte, und die andern kamen
frey durch mit ein paar Kubel voll Wasser, so ihnen auf den leib gegossen
wurde. Man muss gestehen, dass diese Alfantzerey solchen Nahmen nicht
verdiene. Wohl aber verdient ihn die im Pabsthum eingeführte Glocken-
Taufe, welche der Jesuiten und anderer Papisten zartes Gewissen dulden kan,
ob es gleich ein viel schändlicher Werck ist, eine leblose Creatur im Nahmen
der Heil. Dreyeinigkeit taufen, wie rechte Menschen, gewisse Manns-oder
Weibs-Nahmen geben, Tauf-Zeugen darzu nehmen, die an den Strick, wie ans
Wester-Hembde, greifen miissen, Gebeth und Seegen darbey sprechen, ihm
grosse geistliche Kraffte zuschreiben, ut quicunque ad sonitum convenerint,
ab omnibus inimici tentationibus liberentur in corpore, & a pravis cogitationi-
bus mundentur in mente, semperque fidei catholicæ documenta sectentur,
pellantur insidize inimici, fragor grandinis, procella turbinum, impetus tem-

[35]

86 Crossing the Line

1709, continued
pestatum, infesta tonitrua, &c. Pontificale f. 154. Hunnii Apostas. R. Eccl.
. 188.

Sonst ist noch auf den Schiffen die Gewohnheit, dass, wenn sie, nach dem
sie über die Linie, das wüste Eyland Abrolhos vorbey, man Gott öffentlich in
Betstunden dancket, und dem Schiffs-Volck eine Ergötzlichkeit, oder an
jeden Tisch eine Kanne Spanischen Wein giebt, auch frisch Schépfen- und
Schweinen-Fleisch speiset, weil man von dergleichen Vieh allzeit einige le-
bendig auf dem Schiffe führet. Denn die Schiffer halten es für ein Gliick, wenn
sie solchen gefährlichen Ort ohne Anstoss vorbey gefahren, weil von der
Brasilianischen Kuste. auf die 60. Weilen weit, sehr grosse und gefährliche
Klippen in die See hinein streichen, welche gröstentheils unter dem Wasser
liegen, und so leicht nicht können gesehen werden.

(Johann Gottlieb Worm aus Döbeln. Ost-Indian und Persianische Reisen,
oder: Zehenjährige auf Gross-Java, Bengala, und in Gefolge Herrn Joann
Josuä Kötelär, Holländischen Abgesantens an den Sophi in Persien, ge-
leistete Kriegs-Dienste, mit auserlesen Anmerckungen erläutert und nebst
anderen besondern Nachrichten, auch doppleten Registern ans Licht
gestellet durch M. Crispinum Weisen, Past. zu Mochau. Dresden und
Leipzig, 1737. 8vo. Zweyte Auflage. Franckfurt und Leipzig, 1745,
p. 18-19.)

The title is longish, I admit, but it seems worth quoting in full because it tells so much about
an unusual book. The story of the ceremony RG or most others first in its quoting an earlier
writer, and second in telling how once more did the clerical passengers look askance at it all as
dangerous profaning of a religious ceremony. The crew is permitted to stage its performance,
something by this time accepted as “very meet, right, and” its bounden privilege by the crew
as a whole and as individual seamen. But this time the accolade and the baptism must be toned
down, be symbolic, free from skylarking and horseplay. Thanks were given for safe passing of the
shoals off Abrolhos islands. Extra and fresh rations were also served at the time.

You will search far also before finding any other sea tale with so much information about food
rations, about what merchandise, slight in amount, the crew was allowed on the return voyage.
Worm has a sense of humor, as when speaking of the weather he tells how the Spanish ambas-
sador to the Court of St. James, when boarding the ship homeward bound, told the messenger
sent by the King to give his greetings to the Sun as well as to the King, for he’d not seen the Sun
the whole of one month — the entire time of his stay.

Worm was the son of a Saxon merchant, born at Débeln, thirty or so miles west of Dresden.
Trained, as usual, to follow his father, he went to Leipzig and Hamburg for experience, decided
he wanted more adventure, at Amsterdam shipped as a soldier on board the Oudenarde, sailing
from the Texel October 27, 1709 bound for Java. He was then just 19 years old. Invalided home
after ten years, he settled down to take over his father’s business, dying at his home in 1735. His
diaries were used by Crispinus Weise, pastor at Mochau, as basis for this book brought out in 1737.

The editing by a clergyman is undoubtedly the explanation of the wealth of references to other
writers found in the book, some 308 names included in the index of authors cited. It explains too
the German Lutheran’s asking why a baptism of rookies crossing the Line should be disapproved
by the clergy when they have no hesitation at baptising church bells.

1712

Le lendemain [6 March 1712] quand on ne douta plus d’étre dans la partie
du Sud, on ne manqua pas de faire la folle ceremonie du Baptéme de la Ligne,
coutume en usage parmi toutes les Nations. On lie les Cathecumenes par les
poignets sur des funins tendus d’avant en arriere sur le gaillard pour les Offi-

The Eighteenth Century 37

ciers et sur le pont pour les Matelots; & après plusieurs singeries & masca-
rades, on les détache pour les conduire les uns après les autres au pied du
grand mat, où on leur fait preêter serment sur une Carte qu'ils feront aux
autres comme on leur a fait, suivant les Statuts de la Navigation, ensuite on
paye pour n'être pas moüille, mais toujours inutilement, car les Capitaines ne
sont pas même tout à-fait-épargnez.

(Amedee-Frangois Frézier. Relation du voyage de la mer du sud aux côtes
du Chily et du Pérou, fait pendant les années 1712, 1713 & 1714. Paris,
1716, p. 13-14.)

Of Scot descent, Frézier was born in Chambéry in 1682, the family having settled in Savoy in
the late 17th century. His report went through several editions in French, was translated into
English, German, Dutch in the 18th century. In 1903 at Santiago de Chile a translation into
Spanish of the part relating to Chile was made by Nicolas Peña.

The general tone and tenor of the book seems to show that Louis XIV sent Frézier to Chile and
Peru as an engineer to plan for defense against possible attacks by England and the Netherlands.
He sailed from St. Malo on the ship San Jose on November 23, 1711.

1713

Early in May we crossed the Line, . .. What takes place on board when a ship
crosses the Line is well known, so I shall not describe it at any length. A bell
summons everyone on deck when crossing, and tables are placed for judges
and attendants. All who have never before crossed the Line are ordered to
swear on certain nautical books and maps that they are ready to pay tribute
on crossing, and that they will on future occasions exact the same from any
others who should cross the Line for the first time, and other promises. Every-
one is then taxed according to his means, and, although they pay, they are
well drenched, pails of water being poured over them. If any refuse to pay
they are condemned to various punishments, some being tied to the yard
with long ropes and plunged several times into the sea. The games end with
cutting a thin rope stretched between the bow and the stern of the ship. The
tribute money is used either for masses or for a festivity on shore. On ships
sailing from the Mediterranean to Lisbon, the same ceremony is performed on
doubling Cape St. Vincent.

I have often been asked whether it is true that many people die when
crossing the Line unless they are copiously bled, and that water and food
become putrid and full of worms. Before answering it must be remembered
that the Line is crossed twice on going from Europe to India, first from North
to South, and then from South to North, and also twice on returning from
India to Europe. On crossing the Line the first time on the way to India there
are generally several days of absolute calm and great heat, on the second
time of crossing it is not nearly so hot.

Although when crossing the Line the first time many people suffer from
sickness, insomnia, and languour, caused by the intense heat, there are no
mortal illnesses, and there is no need to use the lancet. All bad symptoms dis-

88 Crossing the Line
1713, continued

appear when the wind rises. It is true that a person who is already ill may be
affected by the want of air and die, and water and eatables may suffer, but
experience shows that bad jars, or keeping water below deck without air, or
even the bad quality of the water, may cause putrefaction. It is well known
that water from the Isle of Mauritius will keep good during a long voyage,
while that from Martinique soon becomes turbid and full of animalcules.
This need not, however, create alarm. Bringing the jars on deck and exposing
the water to the air and, better still, filtering it through white linen, will make
it fit to drink.

(Ippolito Desideri. An account of Tibet. The travels of Ippolito Desideri _
of Pistoia, S. J., 1712-1727. Edited by Filippo de Filippi. London: Rout-
ledge, 1932. The Broadway Travellers. p. 54-55.)

1720

We past the Tropick, attended by the Tropick-Birds, a Fowl something bigger
than a Pidgeon; but one would think, as it flies, it had an unlighted Candle
fix’d in its Tail. I cannot let go the Ceremony of passing this Tropick: When
you are in the Latitude, the old Sailors ask the rest of the Ship’s Crew,
Whether they were ever that way before? If not, they must either pay a
Bottle and Pound (as they call it) or be duck’d: They that don’t pay, are
fix’d to a Rope at the Main-Yard-Arm, and duckd three Times in the Sea; at
which the rest of the Crew Huzza! and fire a Volley of Small-shot.

When Admiral Benbow went with his Squadron of Men of War, the whole
Fleet duck’d, but the Admiral gave ‘em Notice, by first firing a Gun, which was
immediately follow’d with a Volley of Muskets, and Huzzaing, by every Ship
in the Fleet. A Day or two before our Account is out, we send a Man to the
Topmast-head, in order to discover Land, where he stays an Hour, and looks
about him: He that discovers it first, is rewarded with a Bottle and Pound:
that is, a Bottle of Rum, and a Pound of Sugar, which is demanded as soon as
the Anchor is cast in a Place where such Commodities are to be had. Now the
Bottles and Pounds that accrue from the People that are not willing to be
duck d, in passing the Tropick, are reserv d by the old Sailors for a merry Bout,
when safe in Harbour; which must not be touch’d by the fresh Men, as they
call em. ’

(Richard Falconer. The voyages, dangerous adventures and imminent
escapes of Captain Richard Falconer. London, 1720. p. 11-13. The Li-
brary of Congress catalogue notes William Rufus Chetwood as author. )

This time it is of course the Tropic of Cancer that is crossed, and the reference to Benbow is
probably to the 1698 expedition rather that of 1708. I find no record that Benbow was ever
south of the equator. All accounts of baptism at “the tropic” are for Tropic of Cancer. Hen-
ningsen, loc. cit., has three references for crossing at Capricorn, but each is wrong if the
chronology of the voyage is to be trusted.

The Eighteenth Century 89
1751

Baptême du tropique ou de la ligne, en Marine; c'est une cérémonie ridicule,
mais d’un usage ancien & inviolable parmi les gens de mer, qui la pratiquent
bien régulierement sur ceux qui passent pour la premiere fois le tropique ou
la ligne équinoctiale.

Chacque nation s’y prend diversement, & même les équipages d'une
même nation l’exercent en différentes manieres. Voici celle qui est la plus
ordinaire parmi les équipages françois.

Pour préparatifs, on met une baille au pié du grand mât pleine d’eau de la
mer; le pilote pour l'ordinaire se met auprès, le visage barbouillé, le corps
revêtu & tout entortillé de garcettes, dont quelques-unes lui pendent des bras.
Il est accompagné de cinq ou six matelots habillés de même: il tient entre
ses mains un livre de cartes marines tout ouvert; aux environs il y a des mate-
lots avec des seaux pleins d’eau; il y en a sur les vergues & sur les hunes. On
amene celui qui doit étre baptisé en grand cérémonie; on le fait asseoir sur une
planche tenue aux deux bouts par deux matelots, & posée sur la baille
pleine d’eau; on lui fait jurer sur le livre que tient le pilote, de pratiquer sur
les autres la même cérémonie, lorsque l’occasion s’en trouvera; & dans l'instant
les deux matelots renversent la planche, & font tomber l’homme dans la
baille; en même tems ceux qui sont à la hune & sur les vergues lui jettent
plusieurs seaux d’eau sur le corps. Les officiers & les passagers se rachetent
d’une si ridicule cérémonie, en donnant quelqu’ argent aux équipages; mais on
ne fait point de grace à ceux qui ne donnent rien. On demande cependant
permission au capitaine pour faire le baptéme.

Un vaisseau qui n'a point encore passé la ligne ou le tropique, y est soümis:
mais le capitaine le rachette par quelques rafraichissemens qu’il donne au
gens de l'équipage, autrement ils couperoient l’éperon ou quelqu autre partie
du vaisseau: mais aujourd’hui beaucoup de capitaines abolissent cette ridi-
cule cérémonie.

(Denis Diderot. Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des
arts et des métiers. Paris, 1751. v. 2, p. 65.)
Diderot’s story ought properly to be ruled out as a secondary source; it is an uncritical mixture of

Guillet, Aubin, Coronelli; a typical encyclopedia piece describing older customs than con-
temporary.

The 11th of April, 8’ N.L. In the afternoon we passed the Line. On this occa-
sion the old custom was observed; namely, all the men were called upon the
deck, and some pails full of water were thrown upon those who had not
crossed the Line before, and those who have very often partake of the bath-
ing. It appears from Holm’s Description of New Sweden, that this ceremony
was usual in 1642, on his voyage to America. The first cause that gave rise to it
is unknown. It is true, in the neighbourhood of the Line, it is usual to wash
the ships every morning and evening with sea-water, that the intolerable
heat may be less noxious; which, particularly if the sailors drink brandy, is

40 Crossing the Line
1751, continued

sufficient to make them mad. But we cannot from hence derive the ceremony
of drenching them in water, as it is a practice more likely to occasion diseases
than to prevent them.

Afterwards all those who had been here for the first time collected a sum of
money among themselves, to serve as a treat at a Gothenburgh tavern, in case
they should return; and it amounted to three hundred and sixty-four copper
dollars, and fifteen ocres. Another collection was made for the orphan-house
at Gothenburgh; every one contributed to it, and it amounted to eight hun-
dred and thirteen copper dollars, and twenty-four ocres.

(Peter Osbeck. A voyage to China and the EastIndies. Translated from
the German [version of the Swedish original] by J. R. Forster. London:
Benjamin White, 1771. v. 1, p. 106-107.)

The title of the Swedish original runs: Dagbok öfwer en Ostindisk resa ären 1750, 1751, 1752.
Med anmärkningar uti naturkunnigheten, främmande folkslags, spräk, seder, Hushällning, mm.
Jämte 12 tabeller och afledne skepps-predikanten Toréns bref. Stockholm, 1757. The Amold
Arboretum has the only copy in this country recorded in the Union Catalogue of the Library of
Congress.

The German translation title runs: Herrn Peter Osbeck, pastors zu Hasslöf . . . Reise nach
Ostindien und China. Nebst O. Toreens Reise nach Suratte und C. G. Ekebergs Nachricht von
der landwirthschaft der Chineser. Aus dem schwedischen iibersetzt von J. G. Georgi. Rostock:
J. C. Koppe, 1765.

Osbeck’s ceremony came at the equator, the reference to “Holm’s Description of New Sweden”
is to the quotation from Campanius here given under 1642.

1752

At sea, 27 July [1752]. I had nearly missed my post to-night, by attending to
our old sea form in crossing the tropic. This is the boundary of what the
ancients called the torrid zone. We crossed the supposed line of this boundary
to day. On these occasions, all the people on board a ship who have not passed
it before are subject to a fine, which, if they refuse to pay or cannot procure,
they must be ducked; that is, hoisted up by a rope to the yard arm, and from
thence dropped souce into the water. This is such fine sport to the seamen,
that they would rather lose some of the forfeiture, (which is usually paid in
brandy ) than that every body should escape the ducking. And in many ves-
sels they single out some poor helpless boy or landsman to be half drowned
for the diversion of his shipmates. But as I do not choose to permit any
arbitrary or oppressive laws to be valid in my peaceful kingdom, I always pay
for those who cannot pay for themselves.

(John Newton. Letters and sermons, with a review of ecclesiastical his-
tory and hymns. Philadelphia, 1797. v. 7, p. 116, 117.)

The letters were written by the Rev. John Newton, rector of St. Mary, Woolnoth, London, on
three voyages to Africa in 1751-1753.

The Eighteenth Century Al

1763

Le Jeudi, 10 Novembre, sur les cinq heures du matin, nous passämes la ligne.
[Les anciens qui n’avoient point de boussole, qui ne s’écartoient point des
côtes dans leurs plus longs trajets, & qui navigeoient rarement sous les
Tropiques, ne connurent pas la cérémonie bizarre qu'on va décrire. C'est un
usage qui ne remonte pas plus haut que ce voyage célebre de Gama, qui a
fourni au Camoéns le sujet de la Lusiade. L'idée qu'on ne scauroit être un
bon marin, sans avoir traversé l'équateur, l'ennui inséparable d’une longue
navigation, un certain esprit républicain qui regne dans toutes les petites
sociétés, peut-être toutes ces causes réunies, ont pu donner naissance à
ces especes de saturnales; quoi qu'il en soit, elles furent adoptées en un instant
dans toutes les Nations, & les hommes les plus éclairés furent obligés de se
soumettre à une coutume dont ils reconnoissoient l’absurdité; car partout, des
que le peuple parle, il faut que le sage se mette à l'unisson].

Je vais décrire cette cérémonie avec simplicité, cela n’öte rien du mérite
de la relation.

Ce sont les Maîtres, les Contremaitres & les Matelots, qui ont déjà passé la
ligne, qui baptisent sans distinction de grade, de sexe & de qualité, tous les
nouveaux Navigateurs. Ils se donnent un Président pour la cérémonie, & ils
Yappellent le bonhomme la Ligne.

Il étoit près de sept heures, & nous étions à souper, lorsque nous entendimes
claquer un fouet qui nous annonça l’arrivée du courier du Bonhomme la
Ligne; ce courier étoit le maitre Canotier, & on l’avoit habillé trés-proprement.
Il heurta à la porte de la chambre; on demanda qui heurtoit? C’est, répondit-il,
un envoyé du Bonhomme la Ligne, Seigneur & Président de ces parages. Qu'on
lui ouvre, dit M. de Bougainville. On ouvrit, l'Envoyé mit pied à terre, entra,
& sa monture resta à la porte. Cette monture étoit formée de deux Matelots
attachés l’un à l’autre & marchant a quatre pattes. L'un avoit sur la tête un
faubert * pour représenter la queue de l'animal; l’autre en avoit aussi un pour
former sa criniere, & de plus un masque de carton figuré en tête de cheval. Les
harnois étoient le pavois du grand canot, c'est-à-dire, une grande bande
d’etoffe bleue, parsemée de fleurs de lys jaunes.

L’envoyé ayant été introduit, adressa la parole à notre Commandant en
ces termes: “Le Président de ces Parages, le Bonhomme la Ligne, ayant
appris que le brave Chevalier de Bougainville, Commandant de la frégate
[Aigle, y étoit arrivé, m'a ordonné de venir le saluer de sa part, de lui témoig-
ner la joie qu'il ressent de sa venue, & de lui remettre une lettre, dans laquelle
ses sentimens sont fidelement exprimés.”

M. de Bougainville lut la lettre qui étoit conçue en ces termes: Brave Cheva-
lier, vos hauts faits ont rendu le nom François très-célebre dans le Canada:
votre réputation est parvenue dans les parages de ma domination sur les ailes

* Le faubert est une espece de balai, composé de fils de carret, pris des vieux cordages; ils
représentent à-peu-près une grosse & longue queue de cheval.

42 Crossing the Line

1763, continued

de la renommée, & votre nom est en telle vénération dans le cœur de mes
sujets, que les Dorades, les Bonites, les Thons & les Marsouins, ayant apperçu
la frégate Y' Aigle que vous commandez, sont venus en bande m’annoncer dès-
hier votre arrivée. Ils ont exprimé la joie que votre présence a répandue dans
leurs cœurs par les bonds & les sauts multipliés qu’ils ont faits, en passant
auprès de votre navire. Je vous envoie cet Ambassadeur pour vous témoigner
la mienne; il vous remettra la présente, & j'espere vous dire moi-même demain
combien je suis charmé de la visite que vous me rendez. Signé Le Bonhomme
la Ligne.

Il y avoit à la place de la date: A la 54 minute du I dégré de latitude, longi-
tude 29 dégrés 3 min. de ma domination septentrionale, le 9 Novembre de l'an
1163 de mon regne.

M. de Bougainville dit à ’Envoye qu'il comptoit avoir l'honneur de se
présenter le lendemain devant le Bonhomme, & de lui faire sa réponse de vive
voix. Que l’on donne un coup à boire au courier, ajouta-t-il, & que l’on ait soin
de son cheval: il doit être beau, qu’on le fasse entrer, je suis curieux de le voir.
On Vintroduisit: il fit des cabrioles, il battit du pied & hennit. Comme il pou-
voit être fatigué du voyage, on lui présenta un verre de vin: il le but. Le courier
dit alors que son cheval avoit deux têtes, l’une à l’avant, l'autre à l'arriere; on
donna donc un verre de vin à la tête de l'arriere.

Sur le point de se retirer, le courrier présenta de la part du Bonhomme la
Ligne, un oiseau au Commandant, comme un témoignage de la bienveillance
de l’illustre Président de ces parages. On le prit d’abord pour un oiseau arti-
ficiel. Il fit voir en pinçant avec son bec qu'il étoit plein de vie. C’étoit en effet
un oiseau d’eau, & la surprise n’en fut que plus grande.

Après souper, on monta sur le gaillard d’arriere, on y dansa au son du tam-
bourin; puis au son de deux violons, des menuets, des contredanses, &c. jusques
à près de dix heures que l’on se retira.

Toutes ces cérémonies n’etoient que le prélude du baptême; aussi elles se
firent la veille. Le jour de la fête se célébra avec solemnité; on commença par
disposer sur le gaillard d’arriere une baignoire pleine d’eau de mer & des seaux;
ensuite on tendit des deux côtés du vaisseau une de ces cordes qui sert à jetter
la sonde, & qu’on nomme la ligne. On placa auprès de l'escalier qui descend
à la chambre, un banc couvert du pavois, qui avoit servi, la veille de caparaçon
à la monture du courier; & l’on disposa ainsi une espece de thrône, au Président
de la ligne, à son Chancelier & au Vicaire qui devoit administrer le baptème.

Tous ces préparatifs achevés, on battit du tambourin, pour assembler tout
le monde sur le gaillard. Quand l'équipage fut réuni, on demanda de la grande
hune, avec un porte-voix; Comment nomme-t-on le navire que je vois là-bas
dans mes parages? on le nomme l' Aigle, répondit le Capitaine. — Qui le com-
mande? — M. le Chevalier de Bougainville. — J'en suis charmé; je le verrai
avec plaisir dans ma société, avec les cérémonies accoutumées. Je reçus hier

The Eighteenth Century 43

de ses nouvelles, & je vais lui en marquer ma satisfaction en descendant dans
son navire avec toute ma Cour.

Dans le moment, parut un Matelot ayant pour tout habillement une culotte
gaudronnée & sur les épaules une peau de mouton avec sa laine, le visage
barbouillé de rouge & de jaune par placards, un bonnet sur la tête surmonté de
deux cornes de bœuf & parsemé de plumes de dindes & de poules; la poitrine,
les bras, le ventre & les jambes également enluminés de couleurs détrempées
à l'huile, & le menton couvert d’une grande moustache. Ce Matelot ainsi ac-
coutré descendit de la grande hune, ayant une chaîne de fer autour du corps,
en façon de ceinture.

Six Mousses le précédoient nuds, peints de jaune & de rouge depuis les
pieds jusqu’à la tête, les uns par placards, les autres par bandes croisées à la
maniere des Sauvages.

Arrivés sur le gaillard, le Matelot les arrangea, leur fit mettre le pouce sur
la corde tendue, & les contraignit de danser, au son du tambourin, pendant un
demiquart d'heure. Ils s’approcherent ensuite de la baignoire, & le matelot
leur jetta quelques seaux d’eau sur la tête.

Alors on annonça la descente du Seigneur Président de la Ligne, par des
haricots blancs que l’on jetta en guise de dragées, de la grande hune sur le
gaillard. Le Bonhomme la Ligne prit la même route que le Matelot & les
Mousses; il descendit lentement & majestueusement. Sa Cour étoit composée
du second Maitre, des Contremaitres, du Pilote & du Canonier. Celui qui
jouoit ce premier rôle étoit le premier Maitre. Il étoit couvert de peaux
blanches de mouton avec leur laine, cousues ensemble pour former un habille-
ment d’une seule piece. Son bonnet de même étoffe lui descendoit jusques sur
les yeux. Un paquet d’étoupes mélées avec la laine lui servoit de perruque &
de barbe. Il avoit un nez postiche de bois peint. En guise de cordon, il portoit
d’une épaule à l'autre un chapelet de pommes de racage, grosses comme des
œufs d’oies.

Les gens de sa suite étoient affublés à-peu-près de même. L’un portoit une
masse ou casse-tête à la Sauvage; l’autre un arc, celui-la une hache, celui-ci
un calumet. Auprès du Président étoit son Chancelier, & il tenoit son sceptre
à la main. Le Maître Canotier, habillé en femme & fardé avec du gros rouge à
l'huile, se tenoit auprès du Bonhomme qui l'appelloit sa fille. Le Vicaire à son
côté étoit vêtu d’une espece de robe de toile gaudronnée; une corde grosse
comme le pouce, lui servoit de ceinture. Il portoit un bonnet quarré de carton
noirci, un masque de même une étole de toile peinte en rouge, & tenoit un
livre à la main. Quatre Mousses l’environnoient, & portoient un encensoir, un
réchaut, un arc, & un bassin plein d’eau de mer pour servir au baptême.

Tout l'équipage étant rassemblé, le Président s’adressa au Commandant:
Soyez le bien venu, dit-il, M. le Chevalier, excusez-moi si je ne vous fais pas de
longs complimens; jai la poitrine si foible, qu'à peine puis-je parler. N’en
soyez pas surpris; je suis âgé de sept mille sept cent soixantetrois ans; j'ai

44 Crossing the Line

1768, continued

chargé mon Secrétaire d'écrire, & mon Chancelier de parler pour moi. Je suis
descendu de mon Palais exprès pour vous recevoir dans ma société. J'espere
que vous ne ferez pas difficulté de vous soumettre à la cérémonie du baptême,
usitée dans ces parages. M. de Bougainville prit la lettre, la lut & applaudit au
compliment; il salua ensuite la fille du Bonhomme; & après l'avoir félicité
d’avoir une fille si jolie, il s’approcha de la corde tendue. Les nouveaux Ofi-
ciers l'y accompagnerent, & le Président alla s'asseoir sur son thrône pavoisé,
ainsi que sa fille & son Chancelier.

Les Officiers lierent le pouce de la main gauche de M. de Bougainville sur
la ligne avec un ruban rouge; & nous nous placämes à sa suite, Messieurs de
Nerville, de Belcourt, Lhuillier & moi.

Le Vicaire affectant un air grave, & son livre à la main, s’approcha de M. de
Bougainville. I] étoit accompagné d’un Mousse qui portoit une assiette cou-
verte d’une serviette pliée, pour recevoir le tribut qu'ils appellent rachat; car
on se contente de verser un peu d’eau de mer sur la tête de ceux qui se rache-
tent, au lieu de les plonger dans la mer, comme l’on fait quand on donne la
cale.* Au reste, on ne plonge plus maintenant dans la mer pour donner le
baptême, parce qu'on a fait reflexion que cette cérémonie deviendroit très-
dangereuse à cause des Requins qui pourroient roder autour du navire, &
emporter une cuisse ou un bras à celui qui auroit le malheur d’en être mordu.

* La cale est une punition que l’on fait subir 4 ceux de l'équipage, qui sont convaincus d’avoir
volé, blasphémé, ou excité quelque révolte. Il y a deux sortes de cale, l'ordinaire & la seche. La
cale ordinaire consiste à conduire le criminel au-dessous de la grande vergue. Là on lui passe un
bâton entre les jambes sur lequel on le fait asseoir, pour le soulager. Il embrasse un cordage atta-
ché à ce bâton, & qui passe par une poulie suspendue à un des bouts de la vergue. Trois ou quatre
Matelots hissent cette corde, le plus promptement qu'ils peuvent, jusqu’à ce qu'ils aient guindé
le patient à la hauteur de la vergue. Ils lachent ensuite le cordage tout-à-coup, ce qui précipite le
criminel dans la mer. Quelquefois pour augmenter la peine en augmentant la rapidité de la
chüte, on lui attache un boulet de canon aux pieds. Ce supplice se réitere souvent jusques à cinq
fois.

On l'appelle cale seche, quand le criminel est suspendu à une corde raccourcie de maniere
que, dans sa chute, il ne descend que jusqu’à la surface de l’eau, & n’est pas plongé dans la mer.
C’est une espece d’estrapade. Ce châtiment est rendu public par un coup de canon, pour avertir
tous ceux de l’Escadre d’en être les spectateurs.

Les Hollandois pratiquent une autre cale, qu'ils appellent la grande cale. Pour la donner, on
conduit le coupable au bord du navire, on lui lie une corde au milieu du corps. Un bout de cette
corde est attaché au bord du vaisseau, ou au bout de la vergue amenée; l’autre bout passe sous
la quille, & est tenu de l’autre côté du navire par quelques-uns des Matelots les plus robustes.
On met quelque chose de pesant autour du corps, ou aux pieds du criminel, pour le faire enfoncer
davantage dans l’eau.

Le coupable étant jetté à la mer, à l’ordre qu’en donne le Quartier-Maitre, ceux qui tiennent
la corde au bord opposé, la tirent le plus vite qu’ils peuvent, de sorte que le patient passe rapide-
ment sous la quille. On réitere ce supplice autant de fois que la sentence le porte.

Ces châtimens sont rudes, & dangereux pour la vie même; sur-tout la grande calle. Car le
moindre défaut de diligence ou d'adresse, de la part de ceux qui tirent la corde, peut être cause
que celui que l’on tire se rompe un bras ou une jambe, & même la tête. Aussi meton cette cale au
nombre des peines capitales. Nos Matelots François regardent les deux autres au-moins comme
infamantes.

The Eighteenth Century 45

On a substitué à ce baptême celui de la baignoire, sur le bord de laquelle on
fait asseoir celui qui ne s’est pas racheté, ou à qui on veut jouer quelque tour.

Le Vicaire sapprocha de M. de Bougainville & lui dit; “Promettez-vous

‘être bon citoyen, & pour cet effet de travailler à la population, & de ne pas
laisser chomer les filles, toutes les fois que l'occasion s’en présentera? — Je le
promets. — Promettez-vous de ne jamais coucher avec la femme d’un Marin?
— Je le promets. — Promettez-vous de faire prendre les mêmes engagemens,
& d'employer les mêmes cérémonies, à l'égard de ceux qui n'auront pas passé
la Ligne, quand ils s’y trouveront avec vous? — Je le promets. Mettez donc la
main sur ce livre sacré en témoignage de vos engagemens.” M. de Bougainville
toucha alors une estampe, qui représentoit un Génie & une jeune fille qui
s embrassent tendrement. Au bas de cette estampe étoit écrit: Quis mihi det te
fratrem meum sugentem ubera matris mex, & inveveniam te foris, & deo-
sculer te. Cantique des Cantiques, ch. 8. Le Vicaire alla rendre compte au
Président des engagemens de M. de Bougainville; & le Bonhomme répondit:
Dignus est intrare in nostro docto corpore; admittatur. Alors le Vicaire re-
tourna a M. de Bougainville & lui dit: “Le Président de la Ligne vous juge
digne d'etre admis dans la société dont il est le Chef, & m'a charge de vous y
recevoir par l'administration de son baptême. Comment vous nommez-vous?”
Louis, répondit M. de Bougainville. Hé bien; Ego, nomine Reverendissimi
Domini Domini & Serenissimi Præsidentis Æquatoris, te, Ludovice, admitto
in societate ejus. En prononçant ces paroles, il lui versa sur la tête quelques
gouttes d’eau de mer. On délia le pouce de M. de Bougainville, qui mit de
l'argent dans l'assiette sous la serviette, on retira le baton, & le Vicaire l’en-
censa. On passa a M. de Nerville a qui le Vicaire fit les mémes questions, &
ainsi successivement aux autres Passagers & Officiers avec les mémes céré-
monies.

Quand on fut parvenu à un Garde-Marine, assez mauvais sujet & hai de tout
le monde, le Vicaire lui dit que le Président ordonnoit qu'il fat reçu avec
toutes les cérémonies en usage. En conséquence, il lui posa un bout de son
étole sur la téte, marmotta quelques paroles, & puis lui fit baiser cette étole
peinte à Thuile. On le délia de la ligne, & on le fit asseoir sur un bâton posé
transversalement sur la bagne. A peine s’y fut-il placé, que le Pilotin tomba
dans l’eau. On avoit de plus ajusté dans la bagne un lacet; de maniere que,
quand le Cathécumene tomba, il se trouvasaisi par le milieu du corps & assu-
jetti sans pouvoir se débarrasser. On profita de sa situation pour lui barbouiller
le visage de noir & de rouge. On lui versa au moins cinq ou six seaux d’eau sur
la tête, puis on le laissa aller.

On en vint ensuite à deux Demoiselles Acadiennes, & le Vicaire leur de-
manda naïvement si elles étoient pucelles? Elles répondirent, oui. Promettez-
vous, ajoûta-t-il de ne pas manquer à la foi conjugale, si vous épousez un
Marin? La promesse faite, il la baptisa à-peu-près comme nous. La sœur de
cette Demoiselle s’etoit cachée pour n'être pas exposée à subir cette céré-
monie. On la trouva, & on voulut la contraindre à venir recevoir le baptème;
mais le Vicaire, averti qu'il y avoit des raisons, pour qu'elle ne s’exposät pas au

46 Crossing the Line
1763, continued

baptéme de l'eau, lui dit qu'il se contenteroit de lui mettre des mouches au
visage. Elle se présenta, & il tint parole. Deux femmes mariées ne furent pas
baptisées, parce que leurs enfans en bas âge, & qu’elles ne pouvoient abandon-
ner, jettoient des cris par la peur que leur inspiroient les figures grotesques
des gens de la suite du Président de la Ligne.

Quelques Passagers furent ensuite baptisés & barbouillés de noir & de rouge,
mais on ne les fit pas placer sur la bagne, parce qu'ayant commencé à jetter
quelques seaux d’eau sur les baptisés, ceux-ci pour avoir leur revanche
en jetterent aux Matelots. Ceux qui avoient été mouillés, voulurent mouiller
les autres; le désordre augmenta, & tous ceux qui se trouverent sur le gaillard
furent aussi humectés que s’ils étoient tombés dans la mer. Ainsi finit ordi-
nairement cette farce, & on est encore trop heureux quand on en est quitte
pour de l'argent & quelques seaux d’eau.

Le baptéme dans les navires qui passent la ligne, est en usage chez toutes
les Nations de l'Europe; mais il n’y a pas d’uniformite dans les cérémonies.
Chaque Nation en imagine de conformes à son génie & à son caractere, & la
fête devient plus ou moins gaie, suivant le plus ou moins d'esprit de ceux qui
y président. Quelquefois celui qui baptise donne au Cathécumene le nom
d’une ville, ou d’un cap, ou d’une mer, & on tâche d’assortir ce nom de maniere
qu'il exprime le caractere, l'humeur, la figure ou l'inclination du baptisé. On
appelle cette cérémonie le Baptéme ou le rachat: le baptême, à cause de l'eau
dont on inonde ceux qui passent la Ligne pour la premiere fois; le rachat, à
cause du tribut que paient ceux qui ne veulent pas être inondés. Ce tribut est
ordinairement volontaire de la part de celui qui paie. Quelquefois ce sont les
farceurs même qui Fimposent, en gardant néanmoins la proportion conve-
nable aux facultés des tributaires.

Lorsque le navire dans sa route ne doit pas passer la Ligne, mais seulement
le Tropique, les Matelots ne voulant pas perdre leur tribut, supposent que le
Tropique est le fils aîné du Bon-homme la Ligne, & héritier présomptif de ses
droits. Ils jouent en conséquence, au passage du Tropique, la même farce
que les autres sous ’Equateur. On a même imaginé de faire cette cérémonie,
quand un navire double, pour la premiere fois, le cap Saint-Vincent, pour
passer le détroit de Gibraltar. Les navires qui vont à la pêche de la Morue,
observent la même pratique, lorsqu'ils approchent du grand banc de Terre-
neuve.

(Antoine Joseph Pernetty. Histoire d’un voyage aux isles Malouines fait
en 1763 & 1764; avec des observations sur le Detroit de Magellan, et sur
les Patagons. Paris, 1770. v. 1, p. 106-124.)

This story of the Bougainville voyage to the Falkland islands and the South Atlantic is the
most detailed account of the protocol developed for the ceremony we have so far, and is worth
quoting in full on that account. Note its plain statement that the performance does not go back
of da Gama’s voyage of 1497. A supposition? Or, based on facts not known to us now? Camöens’
note of it has been quoted above, but that mentions only the change in position of the sun. Is it
not reasonable to suppose that in the long struggle down the west coast of Africa the old salts
worked out a tradition to mark such an event?

The Eighteenth Century 47

Henningsen has twenty-one references to a ceremony on the passing of Gibraltar, from 1637 on.
The oldest reference to a baptism on reaching the Grand Banks of Newfoundland by the cod-
fishers is from Lahontan, about 1690, and le Beau from 1729; the latest is 1880. Vicomte de
Chateaubriand tells his tale of the Grand Banks ceremony under 1791.

1764

As we now approached near to the Mediterranean, some of the sailors had
got a strong new rope, and prepared it for ducking such of the crew as were
novices in this sea. They were to be let down from the yard-arm, with their
hands and feet tied to two bars of wood, placed at convenient distances; but
when every thing was ready they all preferred the alternative, which is a
small forfeit to be deducted from their pay.

(Richard Chandler. Travels in Asia Minor and Greece. New edition edited
by Nicholas Revett. Oxford, 1825. v. 1, p. 2.)

The Reverend Doctor of Divinity was sent by the Dilettanti Society, with Revett, an architect,
and Pars, a painter, to study and report on the antiquities of Ionia and Greece, in 1763-1766. Their
report appeared in 1769 in shape of two fine folios.

His lively report tells of embarking at Gravesend on July 9, 1764 on the ship Anglicana, with a
fair wind, “but our pilot, being in liquor, did not sail that evening.” Note that the ducking was
for “novices in this sea,” the Mediterranean. I doubt if the “small forfeit to be deducted from their
pay” was put to the expenses of the expedition, even of so worthy a cause.

This is the only account I have found for the ceremony at this place. It all seems, however, to
be the accepted and recognized way to mark the event.

Mélusine, v. 8, column 263 (1886-7) prints the text of the French version of 1806, v. 1, p. 8.

1768

On the 25th of October we crossed the line with the usual ceremonies in
29° 24’, when, by the result of several good azimuths, the variation was 2° 24’.

(James Cook. An account of a voyage round the world in the years 1768,
1769, 1770, and 1771. By Lieutenant James Cook, Commander of his
Majesty's Bark the Endeavour. Hawkesworth’s Voyages. London, 1785.
v. 2, p. 236.)

So stands the earliest printed record of the first crossing made by the great seaman. The 1785
entry was severely cut down from the original text. Owing to Hawkesworth’s idea of propriety or
dignity or importance or to lack of space?

Thanks to Admiral Sir W. J. L. Wharton, however, we get the whole log entry in his edition of
Captain Cook’s journal during his first voyage round the world made in H.M. Bark ‘Endeavour’,
1768-71, London, 1898, p. 18-14, running thus:

Tuesday, 25th. — A Genteel breeze and Clear weather, with a Moist Air. Soon
after sunrise found the Variation of the Compass to be 2° 24’ W., being the
Mean result of several very good Azimuths. This was iust before we crossed
the Line in the Longitude of 29° 29’ W. from Greenwich. We also try’d the
Diping Needle belonging to the Royal Society, and found the N. point to Dip
26 degrees below the Horizon; but this Instrument cannot be used at Sea to
any great degree of accuracy on account of the Motion of the Ship, which
hinders the Needle from resting. However, as the Ship was pretty steady, and

48 Crossing the Line

1768, continued

by means of a Swinging Table I had made for that purpose, we could be
Certain of the Dip to two Degrees at most. The Observed Latitude and that
by account nearly Agree. Wind S. E. by E.; course S. 30° W.; distance 95 m.;
lat 0° 15’ S., long. 29° 30’ W.; at noon, Bonavista, S. E. point, N. 26° E., 858
leagues.

Wednesday, 26th. — First part light Airs and Cloudy weather, the remainder
a Moderate Breeze and Cloudy. After we had got an observation, and it was
no longer Doubted that we were to the Southward of the Line, the Ceremony
on this occasion practis’d by all Nations was not Omitted. Every one that
could not prove upon the Sea Chart that he had before Crossed the Line was
either to pay a Bottle of Rum or be Duck’d in the sea... and the weather was
favourable for that purpose, this Ceremony was performed on about 20 or 30,
to the no small Diversion of the Rest. Wind S.E. to S.S.E.; course S. 31° W.;
distance 77 m.; lat. 1° 21’ S., long. 30° 18’ W.; at noon, Bonavista, S. E. point,
N. 25° 30’ E., 385 leagues.

Ships’ logs follow tradition, probably, and aside from courses, winds, distance, and such reveal-
ing pictures — for the fellow seaman — seem to frown on anything else. On this trip, however,
we have one of the scientists, Sir Joseph Banks, setting down in his diary a much more “human

side of the news” as he pictures it for us in his Journal . . . during Captain Cook’s voyage in H.M.S.
Endeavour, . . . edited by Sir Joseph Hooker, London, 1896, p. 18-20:

25th. (Oct., 1768.) This morning about eight o’clock we crossed the equinoc-
tial line in about 33 W. from Greenwich, at the rate of four knots, which our
seamen said was uncommonly good, the thermometer standing at 79°. (The
thermometers used in this voyage are two of Mr. Bird’s making, after Fahren-
heit’s scale, and seldom differ by more than a degree from each other, and
that only when they are as high as 80°, in which case the mean reading of the
two instruments is set down.) This evening the ceremony of ducking the
ship’s company was performed, as is always customary on crossing the line,
when those who have crossed it before claim a right of ducking all that have
not. The whole of the ceremony I shall describe.

About dinner-time a list was brought into the cabin containing the names
of everybody and thing aboard the ship (in which the dogs and cats were not
forgotten); to this was fixed a signed petition from the ship’s company de-
siring leave to examine everybody in that list, that it might be known whether
or not they had crossed the line before. This was immediately granted, every-
body being called upon the quarter-deck and examined by one of the lieu-
tenants who had crossed the line: he marked every name either to be ducked
or let off as their qualification directed. Captain Cook and Dr. Solander were
on the black list, as were I myself, my servants, and dogs for all of whom
I was obliged to compound by giving the duckers a certain quantity of brandy,
for which they willingly excused us the ceremony.

Many of the men, however, chose to be ducked rather than give up four
day’s allowance of wine, which was the price fixed upon, and as for the boys

The Eighteenth Century 49

they are always ducked, of course, so that about twenty-one underwent the
ceremony.

A block was made fast to the end of the main-yard, and a long line reved
through it, to which three pieces of wood were fastened, one of which was
put between the legs of the man who was to be ducked, and to this he was
tied very fast, another was for him to hold in his hands, and the third was
over his head, lest the rope should be hoisted too near the block, and by that
means the man be hurt. When he was fastened upon this machine the
boatswain gave the command by his whistle, and the man was hoisted up as
high as the cross-piece over his head would allow, when another signal was
made, and immediately the rope was let go, and his own weight carried him
down; he was then immediately hoisted up again, and three times served in
this manner, which was every man’s allowance. Thus ended the diversion of
the day, for the ducking lasted until almost night, and sufficiently diverting
it was to see the different faces that were made on this occasion, some
grinning and exulting in their hardiness, whilst others were almost suffocated,
and came up ready enough to have compounded after the first or second
duck, had such a proceeding been allowable.

Almost immediately after crossing the tropic the air had sensibly become
much damper than usual, though not materially hotter: the thermometer in
general stood from 80° to 82°. The nearer we approached to the calms, the
damper everything grew; this was very perceptible even to the human body,
but more remarkable was its effect upon all kinds of furniture. Everything
made of iron rusted so fast that the knives in people’s pockets became almost
useless, and the razors in cases did not escape; all kinds of leather became
mouldy, portfolios and trunks covered with black leather were almost white.
Soon afterwards this mould adhered to almost everything; all the books in
my library became mouldy, so that they had to be wiped to preserve them.

About this time we came into the calms, which we met with earlier than
usual: the thermometer was then at 83°, and we suffered from the heat and
damp together. Bathing, however, kept me in perfect health, although many
of the ship’s company were ill of bilious complaints, which, however, were
but of short duration. This continued till we got the S. E. trade, when the
air became cooler, but the dampness continued yet: to that I chiefly attribute
the ill-success of the electrical experiments, of which I have written an ac-
count in separate papers, that the different experiments may appear at one
view.

The air, during the whole time since we crossed the tropic, and indeed
for some time before, has been nearly of the same temperature throughout
the twenty-four hours, the thermometer seldom rising more than a degree
during the time the sun is above the horizon; the cabin windows have been
open without once being shut ever since we left Madeira.

Though plenty of this has nothing to do with the “crossing” ceremony, it is set down now with

no apology. It does give as lively and as telling a story of daily life at the time of the ceremony
as it does of physical conditions facing the company.

50 Crossing the Line

1768, continued

Other editions of the voyage follow much the same line, in varying degrees of fullness and
accuracy, Low about 1900, Lloyd in 1949. And so too such lives as those by Kippis, Kitson, and
James Alexander Williamson.

The voyages of 1772 and 1776 are noted below under their respective dates.

1772

At length, on the 8th of September, we crossed the line in the longitude of
8° West; after which the ceremony of ducking &c. generally practiced on
this occasion, was not omitted.

(James Cook. A voyage towards the south pole and round the world. Per-
formed in His Majesty's Ships the Resolution and Adventure, in the years
1772, 1773, 1774, and 1775. London; Strahan and Cadell, 1777. v. 1, p. 11.)

On the 9th, having passed the line with a light air, our crew ducked such of
their shipmates as had never crossed it before, and did not care to redeem
themselves by paying a certain forfeit of brandy. Those who had been obliged
to undergo a briny submersion, changed their linen and clothes; and as this
can never be done too often, especially in warm weather, the ducking proved a
salutary operation to them. The quantity of strong liquors, arising from the
forfeits of the rest, served to heighten jovial humour, which is the prominent
characteristic of sailors.

(George Forster. A voyage round the world, in His Britannic Majesty's
Sloop, Resolution, commanded by Capt. James Cook, during the years
1772, 3, 4, and 5. London, 1777. v. 1, p. 48-49.)

1774

We are now fairly under the Tropick and are preparing for a farce that is
played on this occasion by every ship that goes to or fro under the Tropick.
It is, it seems, a sort of Mason word, and till I am admitted in form, I must not
appear to know it. I shall therefore only tell you that we have been made to
expect a visit from old Tropicus and his ancient dame. He is a wizard and she
a witch who inhabit an invisible Island in these Seas, and have a privilege
of raising contributions from every Ship that passes their dominions, only
however from such as never was that way before. But my account is cut short
by the appearance of the Actors, who are dressed for their parts. Tropicus is
performed by an old rough dog of a Tar, who needs very little alteration to
become a callaban in mind and body, but his wife is played by a very hand-
some fellow, who is completely transformed. Every body is below waiting, in
trembling expectation, and no wonder, for an awful ceremony this Visitation
is. Tropick the Island was no sooner seen, than the Jolly boat was taken down,
on pretence of going with the Captain aboard it to meet him, but in fact to
be filled full of pump water for a use you shall hear by and by. This being done
Tropick is spoke to thro’ the trumpet, and a hollow voice demands what
strangers are aboard. All this the people below hear, and tho’ many of the

The Eighteenth Century 51

Emigrants appear sensible, yet all the Highlanders and Islanders are so
superstitious, that they may be easily imposed on, in such a thing as this; and
they were completely so. The wizard now ordered them to be brought up,
one by one blindfolded and their hands bound behind them; such was their
fear, that they suffered this to be done without dispute. In this situation,
they were to answer certain questions which he put to them; if they spoke
strictly truth, them he shaved them, took a small gratuity for his trouble, gave
them his benediction, and let them pass. But if they disguised or concealed
the truth, which he was supposed perfectly to know, then he tumbled them
into the Sea, where they perished. Prepossessed with this idea, a poor lad
was brought before the infernal Judge: “Answer me,” said he sternly, “answer
me truth; what made you leave home?” “O troth sir, I dinna well ken:” “but
you must know,” said he, “so answer me instantly.” “O Dear, O Lord! I think
it was, because so many were going, I did not like to stay behind,” “And pray
what are you good for in this world, to prevent me sending you to the next?”
“Trouth, an please your honour, een, very little.” “What,” said he, with a voice
like thunder, “are you good for nothing?” “O yes, yes, I am no very ill at the
small fishing.” As this young man did not seem to overrate his own merits, the
wizard was satisfied, placed him on the side of the boat, which he believed
was the ship, being still blind folded and bound. The wizard began to shave
him with a notched stick and pot-black. The sharp notches soon brought
blood, and the poor devil starting from the pain, tumbled into the boat
amongst the water, and thinking it the sea, roared with terror. And in this
consisted the whole wit of the entertainment. He was now unbound and re-
stored to the light and as keen to bring in his neighbours, who one by one,
went thro’ the same operation. As soon as it was over, the custom licences
the sailors to treat the officers with every degree of freedom, nor do they fail
to take the opportunity. The Cap‘, mates, supercargo, and all were chaced
round and round, and drenched in the water from the boat, which they threw
at them in bucket-fulls.

We had now gone to the Cabin, and believed all was over, when a loud
screaming on deck brought us up to see what was the matter, and we found
our Cap' had begun to act a tragedy after our comedy, and to oblige these
poor ruined creatures to pay five shillings for each, or be pulled up to a mast
and from that plunged down to the Sea. This was a sum impossible to be
raised, and the poor women were running with what remained of their cloths
to give in place of it to save their husbands and fathers. Amongst others Mar-
ion was going with all speed, with her aunt’s popline gown; but it was need-
less, for John Lawson now stood at bay, his fist clinched and swearing by the
great God, that the first man that touched him had not another moment to
live, nor was there one hardy enough to encounter a fist, which had not
its fellow on board. But this was not the case with others, and they had one
man tied, and only waited to see, if his wife had as many moveables as to
save his life, for he was a poor weak old man, and would not have agreed

52 Crossing the Line
1774, continued

with this method of bathing. I never in my life saw my brother in such a
passion; he swore solemnly, that the moment he got to land, he would raise
a prosecution agaist the Cap‘, who pleaded that it was the custom, and only
intended as a little drink money to the sailors. If that is the case, replied my
brother, let them give up their cloths, and they shall be satisfied. This was
complied with cheerfully, he gave them what they were satisfied with, to
which they returned three cheers, as he went to the cabin and serenaded us
with the favourite song,

O grog is the liquor of life
The delight of each free British tar.

(Journal of a lady of quality; being the narrative of a journey from Scot-
land to the West Indies, North Carolina, and Portugal, in the years 1774
to 1776. Edited by Evangeline Walker Andrews, in collaboration with
Charles McLean Andrews, Farnam Professor of American History in
Yale University. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1922. p. 69-72.)

A footnote to “jolly boat” runs thus: “The jolly boat was generally swung at the stern of the
vessel. Regarding the ‘awful ceremony,’ the author of A Brief Account of the Island of Antigua
(1789), who made the voyage from the Downs to Antigua in 1786, says, ‘I had almost forgot to
observe that on passing the tropic of Cancer, the old custom of ducking and shaving such as have
not before crossed it, was performed by the seamen with some humour on one man and two boys.
The passengers waved the ceremony by a liquor fine (p. 5.).”

A footnote to “satisfied” in the last sentence: “Evidently meaning that if the sailors would give
up their claim to the clothes of the emigrants, he (Mr. Schaw) would pay for their grog.”

The original manuscript is Egerton 2423 of the British Museum.

Join Janet Schaw of Edinburgh, the “Lady of Quality” here, with the writer of the letter
reprinted below under 1792 from the text in The Gentleman’s Magazine, and all of us will
certainly wish that we had more reports from women. Each tells the facts accurately enough to
satisfy the most insistent Gradgrind, each tells her tale with a liveliness markedly absent in most
of the reports by her male “superiors.” Plenty of variations in detail show themselves here,
nothing of any great importance, though it is worth noting perhaps that not since Linschoten in
1583 do we find any such a brawl as seems to have broken out here.

The ship slipped along easily. One day was like another, but each evening
found them nearer the Leeward Islands. The captain began to predict that
they would reach St. John’s, the chief town on Antigua, about the end of the
week. One morning, after he had calculated the latitude, he told the pas-
sengers the ship would reach the line and pass into the Torrid Zone late the
next morning or early in the afternoon.

At noon the ship crossed the Tropic of Cancer. Since it was not to cross the
Equator and have the time-honoured celebration of that, the captain allowed
the old hands to hold an initiation ceremony for those first entering tropic
waters. It seemed wise to encourage anything that would relieve the tedium
of the voyage. The ceremony was a rude mummery with a sailor in an oakum
wig playing Neptune, come aboard to welcome the ship into his tropic king-
dom. Neptune sat as a judge on each candidate for initiation. Some he ordered

The Eighteenth Century 53

shaved. They were lathered with a mixture of kitchen grease and pot black
and scraped with a notched stick for a razor. Others, blindfolded, he ordered
pitched into the sea. They were tipped backward into a tub of water. Though
it was only horseplay, some of the more superstitious Highlanders believed
the big sailor was in truth Neptune and his judgements frightened them
badly.

There were many new-comers to the tropics and Neptune was still at his
work judging them in the late afternoon when the lookout reported a sail on
the horizon, to the south. As the stranger came closer it revealed itself as a
light schooner. Both vessels changed courses to pass close by.

(Inglis Fletcher. The Scotswoman. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill
Company [1954] p. 217.)

Reprinted with permission.

The “Scotswoman” is Flora MacDonald, and here we are told of one day on the voyage the

family made to settle in North Carolina after the troubles of “the ’45.” It is particularly welcome
because it gives one more of the few times when the tale is found in fiction.

1776

On the first of September we crossed the Equator, in the longitude of 27° 38’
West, with a fine gale at South East by South; and not withstanding my ap-
prehensions of falling in with the coast of Brazil in stretching to the South
West, I kept the ship a full point from the wind.

(A voyage to the Pacific Ocean . . in the years 1776, 1777, 1778, 1779, and
1780. By Captain James Cook. London, 1785. 2. edition. v. 1, p. 34.)

A footnote to the “September” tells how the editor of this posthumous report felt about such
performances:

The afternoon, as appears from Mr. Anderson’s Journal, was spent in performing the
old and ridiculous ceremony of ducking those who had not crossed the Equator before.
Though Captain Cook did not suppress the custom, he thought it too trifling to deserve
the least mention of it in his Journal, or even in his log-book. Pernetty, the Writer
of Bougainville’s Voyage to the Falkland Islands, in 1763 and 1764, thought differently;
for his account of the celebration of this childish festival on board his ship is extended
through seventeen pages, and makes the subject of an entire chapter, under the title of
Baptéme de la Ligne.

It may be worth while to transcribe his introduction to the description of it. ‘C’est
un usage qui ne remonte pas plus haut que ce voyage célébre de Gama, qui a fourni
au Camoens le sujet de La Lusiad . . . Car, partout, dès que le peuple parle, il faut que
le sage se mette à l’unison.

The introduction to the British account fills 89 quarto pages, sumptuous in real eighteenth
century style as to composition and typography, but never a word there about “the old and
ridiculous ceremony.”

The Bougainville chapter is entered under 1763 above.

1780

Juillet. Nous arrivames pres du tropique du Cancer où en passant pour la I®®
fois il est d'usage de recevoir le baptéme du Bonhomme Tropique, c’est un
droit qu'il faut payer au matelot, et la manière singulière, et pittoresque de
cette cérémonie, mérite d’être lue une fois.

54 Crossing the Line
1780, continued

Le 17 qui était la veille de notre passage sous le tropique du Cancer, le
vieux Bonhomme Tropique envoya un courrier avec une lettre prevénir le
Cpt. du navire de se préparer à faire recevoir son baptême à ceux qui n’avaient
pas encore entré dans son royaume.

Lettre du Bonhomme Tropique au capitaine du vaisseau.

Monsieur, l’honneur de votre connoissance depuis que vous navi-
guez dans mon royaume, a fait que je me suis informé de vous et je
n’ai pu savoir de vos nouvelles qu'il n'y a environ 15 jours par la
Garonne et la Princesse dHénnin qui ont passé dans mon royaume
et dont je suis très satisfait, tant pour la réjouissance qu'ils ont fait,
que la bonne conduit qu'ils ont tenue à mon égard. Je vous envoie
mon courrier pour vous annoncer ma visite. J'irai vous voir demain,
ou après, je ne puis pas assurer, parce qu'il y a une frégate du roi,
mais comme vous êtes second commandant, vous serez le deuxième,
je pense que je serai content de vous comme de coutume, et de tous
ces messieurs qui sont surtout gens de cœur, et qui vont combattre
et soutenir l'honneur de la couronne française; vous avez à bord Mr.
...qui s est conduit avec rapinerie en passant dans mon royaume,
ne soyez pas surpris de ma vengeance a son égard, il faut pour
m’adoucir qu'il profite de l’occasion qui va sa présenter, car sachez
que mes soldats n’épargneront personne, de ceux qui ne rendront la
satisfaction qui m'est due, vous avez à baptiser, le navire, chaloupe,
canot, ainsi que Mrs Berthier et d’Ottecan que je ne connois pas,
n'ayant jamais passé dans mon royaume il faut qu'ils se préparent
à recevoir mon baptême ainsi que Mr. votre fils. Rien autre chose à
vous marquer pour le présent sinon que je suis votre ami le Bon-
homme tropique du Cancer.

Le 18 nous passâmes le tropique à midi et à 4 heures après-diner la céré-
monie commença ainsi:

Nous entendimes dans la hune de misaine les cris d’un vieillard tremblant
de froid, et le bruit d’une grande quantité de chaînes, un instant après de-
scendit un capucin, plusiers archers barbouillés, un tambour, et le Bonhomme
Tropique presque nu, peint en rouge, noire /sic], couvert seulement d’une
peau de mouton sur les épaules avec une chaîne au milieu du corps, une très
longue barbe, un bonnet de peau, et son fils, à califourchon sur ses épaules,
tout nu, peint en rouge, bleu et goudronné, et roulé dans les plumes de poules,
ils avaient lair de grelotter de froid.

Cette compagnie arrivée en bas, le bonhomme monta sur un matelot à 4
pattes faisant l'âne, et toute la cohorte se mit à faire la procession autour du
navire.

A chaque canon de gaillard d’arrière était attaché un mousse culotte bas,
et le cul à lair tourné de notre côté; lorsque la procession fut revenue vis-à-

The Eighteenth Century 55

vis la dunette, le capucin monta dessus, et nous débita un sermon, dont le sens
était de nous faire bien comprendre que nos bourses devaient jouer le princi-
pal rôle dans la cérémonie. Ce sermon fini on se rendit auprès du grand mat,
où était une cuve pleine d’eau, sur laquelle il y avait une planche au travers
pour s'asseoir; au-dessus était suspendu un panier, et deux hommes avec des
seaux, prêts à puiser de l’eau dans 2 tonneaux qu'ils avaient à côté d’eux. Le
Bonhomme Tropique était assis près d’une table où était son secrétaire enre-
gistrant les noms des baptisés, toute la garnison garnisonnée entourait cet
appareil.

On me fit l'honneur de me venir chercher le premier, je m’assis sur la petite
planche au-dessus de la cuve, et le capucin me demanda, si je promettais de
respecter toutes les femmes des marins absents, je l'assurais, que j'avais de
tout temps respecté les dames, en mesure que leur âge m‘inspirait ce senti-
ment, j accompagnai mon discours d’un louis que je mis dans le plat, et on me
jeta un peu d’eau sur les mains pendant qu'une pompe arrosait successive-
ment le derrière de tous les petits mousses attachés aux canons et l'on me
renvoya; tous ceux protégés par le capitaine passèrent ainsi. Ensuit la céré-
monie se fit dans toutes les règles, à l'instant où le patient était assis sur la
petite planche, elle se retirait, et un crochet mis a la ceinture de la culotte
par derriére tenu a une corde qui passe par le milieu de la cuve, les faisait
tomber et les tenait dedans, pendant que les deux hommes, jetaient de l'eau
à plein seau, dans le panier suspendu au-dessus de la cuve, la cérémonie du
cul des mousses avait toujours lieu.

Mon domestique m'avait demandé de payer pour lui, je lui accordai, mais
comme je promis au Bonhomme Tropique, de ne payer qu'en raison de la
manière dont il serait bien mouillé, il peut assurer, qu'aucun de sa famille n’a
été aussi bien baptisé.

La cérémonie finie, chacun se jeta de l’eau pour son compte, et nous fümes
tous bien mouillés.

(Louis-Alexandre Berthier. Journal de la campagne d'Amérique, 10 mai
1780 - 26 août 1781. Printed here from the original manuscript in Prince-
ton University Library. In 1951 the Institut Frangais de Washington
printed the entire text (76 pages), edited with an introduction by Pro-
fessor Gilbert Chinard. )

Note that it is “le vieux Bonhomme Tropique” who rules here, not Neptune. At this era the
ceremonies are divided into the two quite separate parts of the French Pére (or Bonhomme) la
Ligne (or Tropique) and the English Neptune. In the 19th century the two personalities slowly
melt together, both Bonhomme and Neptune appearing in some French references, with Neptune
ultimately quite the winner. This is one of the most interesting and astonishing facts in the history
of the baptism.

The oath to respect the wives of sailors is first mentioned in 1702, then in 1714, and from
then on it is fairly common until our own days. Note the clever and perfectly safe reply of
Berthier. Note also the special baptising of the cabin boys; the shivering and the chattering
with cold, possibly if not evidently taking over a tradition from northern sources; all in all the
proof that here “a good time was had by all.”

Berthier, officer, and therefore of rank, entered into it fully and showed nothing of the superior
and condescending tolerance of pranks by the lower classes we find in some of the reports from
British travelers.

56 Crossing the Line

1785

On the 16th [of November] we crossed the Line, our latitude being 22 miles
South ... ;

Sailors on crossing the Line, have a custom of plunging every person on
board, who have never been to the Southward of it, over head and ears in a
tub of water. This ceremony being but ill relished by some of our people,
Captain Dixon promised all hands a double allowance of grog if they would
desist: this was very willingly accepted, and harmony was soon restored: but
alas! grog and good humour soon were at variance, and some of the people
grew so quarrelsome and turbulent, that they were put in irons: this brought
them to reason in a short time, and they were set at liberty on promise of
better behaviour.

(George Dixon. A voyage round the world... 1785... 1788. London, 1789.
2. ed. p. 29-30.)

The British Museum catalogue enters the first edition (1789) under B., W., and after George

Dixon as author inserts this note: “or rather, a series of letters signed: W. B., i. e. William Beres-
ford, edited by G. Dixon.” No such note appears on the title page of the second edition as
cited above.
Ambassador. A trick to duck some ignorant fellow or landsman, frequently
played on board ships in the warm latitudes, it is thus managed: a large tub
is filled with water, and two stools placed on each side of it, over the whole
is thrown a tarpawlin, or old sail, this is kept tight by two persons, who are
to represent the king and queen of a foreign country, and are seated on the
stools. The person intended to be ducked plays the Ambassador, and after
repeating a ridiculous speech dictated to him, is led in great form up to the
throne, and seated between the king and queen, who rising suddenly as soon
as he is seated, he falls backward into the tub of water.

Arthur; King Arthur, a game used at sea, when near the line, or in a hot
latitude. It is performed thus: a man who is to represent king Arthur, ridicu-
lously dressed, having a large wig made out of oakum, or some old swabs, is
seated on the side, or over a large vessel of water, every person in his turn is
to be ceremoniously introduced to him, and to pour a bucket of water over
him, crying Hail, king Arthur! If during this ceremony the person introduced
laughs or smiles (to which his majesty endeavours to excite him, by all sorts
of ridiculous gesticulations), he changes places with, and then becomes,
king Arthur, till relieved by some brother tar, who has as little command over
his muscles as himself.

(Francis Grose. A classical dictionary of the vulgar tongue. London, 1785. )

A variation of, or a substitute for, the tradition by now so well established? I dare not say,
do dare to add that this is the only reference to Ambassador or King Arthur I have found,
though Henningsen finds one in 1708.

Neither Ambassador nor Arthur with any such meaning is included in the Oxford Dictionary,
first series or supplement.

King Arthur, with slight changes in punctuation is printed in Mélusine, v. 5 (1890-1891),
column 191, following the 1796, London, edition.

The Eighteenth Century 57

1787

[July] 14th. About five in the evening we crossed the equator, without any
wish or inclination being shewn by the seamen to observe the ceremony
usually practised in passing under it.

(John White. Journal of a voyage to new South Wales. London, 1790.
p. 37.)

Even if nothing more marked the crossing than the reference to “the ceremony usually
practised,” the passage is worth noting. The book is a sumptuous quarto so typical of its time,
with paper stock of a quality to remember, the engravings of natural history matching the other
admirable features. The text is a revealing picture of life aboard ship, in those days, troubled with
scurvy — and this even after the days of Cook! — drinking water, bilge water, to say nothing
of the control of the convicts.

1791

Le vent nous força d’anordir et nous accostämes le banc de Terre-Neuve.
Quelques glaces flottantes rôdaient au milieu d’une bruine froide et pâle.

Les hommes du trident ont des jeux qui leur viennent de leurs devanciers:
quand on passe la Ligne, il faut se résoudre à recevoir le baptéme: même
cérémonie sous le Tropique, même cérémonie sur le banc de Terre-Neuve, et
quel que soit le lieu, le chef de la mascarade est toujours le bonhomme
Tropique. Tropique et hydropique sont synonymes pour les matelots: le bon-
homme Tropique a donc une bedaine énorme; il est vêtu, lors même qu'il
est sous son tropique, de toutes les peaux de mouton et de toutes les jaquettes
fourrées de l'équipage. Il se tient accroupi dans la grande hune, poussant de
temps en temps des mugissements. Chacun le regarde d’en-bas: il commence
à descendre le long des haubans, pesant comme un ours, trébuchant comme
Silène. En mettant le pied sur le pont, il pousse de nouveaux rugissements,
bondit, saisit un seau, le remplit d’eau de mer et le verse sur le chef de ceux
qui n'ont pas passé la Ligne, ou qui ne sont pas parvenus à la latitude des
glaces. On fuit sous les ponts, on remonte sur les écoutilles, on grimpe aux
mâts: père Tropique vous poursuit; cela finit au moyen d’un large pourboire:
jeux d Amphitrite, qu'Homère aurait célébrés comme il a chanté Protée, si
le vieil Océanus eût été connu tout entier du temps d'Ulysse; mais alors on
ne voyait encore que sa tête aux Colonnes d’Hercule; son corps caché couv-
rait le monde.

(François René, Vicomte de Chateaubriand. Mémoires d’outre-tombe.
Édition du Centenaire par Maurice Levaillant. Paris, 1948. v. 1, p- 266-
267.)

The wind compelled us to bear to the North, and we came alongside of the
bank of Newfoundland. Floating icebergs roamed in the midst of a pale, cold
mist.

The men of the trident have sports which are handed down to them from
their ancestors: when you cross the Line, you must make up your mind to
receive “baptism;” the same ceremony occurs beneath the Tropics, the same

58 Crossing the Line
1791, continued

ceremony on the bank of Newfoundland, and whatever the spot, the leader
of the masquerade is always “the Old Man of the Tropics.” To the sailors,
tropical and hydropical are interchangeable terms: the Old Man of the
Tropics therefore has an enormous paunch; he is dressed, even when beneath
his native Tropics, in all the sheepskins and all the furred jackets that the
crew can supply. He sits squatting in the main-top and roaring from time to
time. Every one looks at him from below; he begins to climb down the
shrouds, moving heavily like a bear, and stumbling like Silenus. As he sets
foot on deck, he utters fresh roars, gives a bound, seizes a pail, fills it with
sea-water, and empties it over the chief of those who have not crossed the
Equator or who have not reached the line of ice. You fly beneath the decks,
you spring upon the hatches, you clamber up the masts: Old Father Tropics
is after you; all this ends in a generous gift of drink-money: games of Amphi-
trite which Homer would have celebrated, even as he sang Proteus, if old
Oceanus had been known in his entirety in the time of Ulysses; but, in those
days, only his head was visible at the Pillars of Hercules: his body lay hidden
and covered the world.

(The Memoirs of Francois René Vicomte de Chateaubriand. Translation
by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos of the Mémoires d’outre-tombe with
illustrations from contemporary sources. London, 1902. v. 1, p. 200.)

If we mean zero latitude by “crossing the line” this tale is ruled out. If, however, we are willing
to admit that the ceremony marks the crossing from one region to another supposed to bring with
it dangers inevitable unless certain vows are made and certain actions taken, then this — hitherto
— most northerly record may rightfully claim and demand a place. The dress in “all the furred
jackets that the crew can supply” fits in well with tradition harking back to northern, cold climates.
We have seen something like it before when the King comes on deck shaking and trembling. The
one constant and universal element is the “generous gift of drink-money.”

Henningsen says the custom is common today on Danish ships sailing to Greenland.

1792

By such means as these [ ventilation, cleaning, attention to good food, etc.]
the men gradually recovered; and were prepared to enjoy the festivities usual
on the passage of the Line. No doubt, the entrance into another hemisphere,
when it was first made, must have been an event arresting the attention, and
filling the minds of those, in every station, who were witnesses of it. And the
commander who, for the first time, had the good fortune to cross the Line,
probably indulged his crew in testifying a joy he must sincerely have felt
himself. The lower orders of mankind, who know little of life except its
labours, are not easily forgetful of any occasion, recurring to them so seldom,
of enjoying a momentary gleam of happiness and independence. It recon-
ciles them to subsequent subordination, and, even, suffering. They seldom
abuse the indulgence thus allowed them; and frequently tire, in a little time,
of what they entered upon with so much eagerness, and conceived to be
productive of so much pleasure; and feeling that idleness ceases soon to be

The Eighteenth Century 59

enjoyment, return with resignation, and real comfort to their wonted occu-
pations. The amusements, on this occasion, consisted chiefly in dressing up a
sailor, of a good figure and manly countenance, in the supposed proper habit
of the sea god, Neptune, armed with a trident, and his garments dripping with
the element submitted to his power. He stood at the ship’s head, as if he were
rising out of the ocean, and demanded, with an audible voice, what was the
ship thus encroaching upon his dominions? An answer being given from the
quarter-deck, where the Embassador, Sir Erasmus Gower, the officers and
passengers, all stood, announcing the ship’s name, and purport of the voyage,
Neptune, with his attendants properly accoutred, stepped with great
solemnity towards them, and, with some words of compliment to his Excel-
lency, presented him a fish (lately caught) as part of the produce of the
deity’s domains. His godhead was treated by all with great respect; and
becoming offerings of silver were voluntarily made to him, for himself and
his companions, by those who had crossed the Line before: but were exacted
as a just tribute from those who attempted it for the first time, under penalty
of going through ceremonies, not a little ludicrous, and promotive of much
broad laughter among the initiated into those mysteries. They concluded
with a plentiful repast, accompanied with the music of the bagpipe, and
copious, tho not excessive, libations of exhilarating liquor.

(Sir George Leonard Staunton, 1st Baronet. An authentic account of an
embassy from the King of Great Britain to the Emperor of China. London,
1797. v. 1, p. 145-146.)

Sir George Leonard Staunton, first baronet, went to China as secretary of Lord Macartney’s
mission, sailing from Portsmouth September 26, 1792. The “authentic account of an embassy from
the King of Great Britain to the Emperor of China” was published at London in 1797 (reprinted
at Philadelphia in 1799). It tells of the illness among the crew and of the calms that delayed the
cruise as they came into the doldrums; it adds nothing new as to the ceremony except perhaps
the joyful news that the “libations of exhilarating liquor” were “copious, though not excessive.”
The crew had perhaps been fortified by bitter experience for such ordeals, and proved their
rights thus to membership in the Order of True Temperance Performers.

He does provide the twentieth century readers with a delicious picture of the point of view of
the diplomat and the nobleman choosing to condescend to give passing attention to some of the
feelings and emotions of “the lower orders of mankind, who know little of life except its labours.”
Some of us may venture to wonder what Sir George Staunton, bart., would have said when he
read about the visit in 1920 by the Prince of Wales to Australia and New Zealand, and how when
“Neptune came on board” and “demanded the royal victim with glee” the orders were “carried
out with brutal precision.”

4, On distingue le baptéme de la ligne & de celui des tropiques & l’un des trois
n’exempte pas des deux autres conformément aux principes de cette insti-
tution.

(Charles Romme. Dictionnaire de la marine françoise. Paris, 1792. p. 63.
Reprinted with minor variations in: Mélusine, v. 2 (1884-5), column
276.)

Mr. Urban, April 23. As I never remember reading in any of your Magazines
an account of the fun usual on board ships on crossing the line; I will extract

60 Crossing the Line
1792, continued

from a letter on board an Indiaman, giving an account of it; and as every
custom, however ridiculous it may have dwindled into (as for instance,
swearing at Highgate) has had a salutary foundation, I should wish some of
your numerous readers, or your philanthrophic self, would be pleased to tell
me from what occasion it arose. Time that is employed in investigation must
be of general utility, for it often draws, if not a satisfactory conclusion of our
own, a wise one from a better informed man; so, good Mr. Urban, call upon
some of your many friends; and fix an opinion about it. A RAMBLER.

“But I must tell you the fun above board, &c. and for which prepa-
ration had been making all the morning; it is customary to play
tricks upon all water travellers that have never been in South lati-
tudes, and the sailors look upon it as a privilege to make themselves
as merry as they can. Passengers generally, by a moderate quantity
of liquor, avoid the honour of the ceremony; but, should an unfortun-
ate one prove restive, the watery gods would become very boisterous.
A sailor representing Neptune, curiously rigged with a trident and
stock fish at the top of it, with thick oakham to burlesque flowing
locks, is mounted upon one of the ship’s gratings, by way of a tri-
umphal car; on his left, Madam Ampyhtrite, bedizened in the full
fashion of Portsmouth Point; with this distinction, she appeared big
with child, which we should suppose rather unusual with the Point
ladies; they were dragged (I beg pardon) they were drawn upon
the quarter deck by two Africans, and attended by a numerous re-
tinue of inferior Gods; and, what was unexpectedly well timed,*
Amphytrite insisted on freedom being given to the Africans, swear-
ing that the Gods would never countenance the inhuman Slave-
trade. On approaching the captain of the ship, Neptune congratu-
lated him on his quick passage, and told him, in consequence of
his good treatment of his children, the British sailors, he had given
him a Southerly wind, and should continue to look to him the rest
of his voyage; at this moment the ladies came on the quarter deck,
which induced Mrs. Amphytrite to dismount from her car, and
tottering towards them, leaning on a piece of old broomstick, thus
began:

“Sweet young damsels I greet you; I've conducted many of you
to India; be of good cheer; its what we must all come to [stroking
her belly]; never fear, sweet young damslets; India’s the place for
Nabobs and arrack; and if old fogrum [turning to Neptune] should

* You will not be surprized at this, when I tell you, I have often since seen this honest tar with a
volume of Shakespear.

The Eighteenth Century 61

offer to do any thing to discomposle you, I will [shaking her stick
at him ]—d. n me tight, if I don’t.”

“Neptune, who perhaps knew the force of stick argument, gave
her a kiss, which produced a most engaging leer, from a pair of as
squinting eyes as, you ever saw; not upon the God, but upon the
fair dame: — But, damslets of my heart, you have not seen our
Wallet de Shavre; * we never travel without him; look at him?”
A sailor with bushy spun yarn, half flowered, with three large horse
combs, and a rusty piece of iron to shave with, made his advance.
If you had seen the figure, and the extended broom-stick, turning
him round to advantage, you must have laughed most heartily.

“The captain told them the quantity of grog they were to be
regaled with, and that he hoped they would conduct themselves
with propriety; Amphytrite + wielded her stick, and swore by her
power they should; she then remounted the car, and the procession
moved slowly on by beat of drum; but not before the Goddess had
sung to the ladies with great humour: “When I was young, I could
bill like a dove,” &c.

“They proceeded into the waste, where a large tub of water was
placed with a plank over it, in order to introduce the new-commers
to a Southern latitude; on catching a novice, he was brought before
the judge, who was too arbitrary to hear an answer, but ordered the
Wallet de Shavre to proceed; in an instant his face is covered with
the hard-to-be-rubbed-out mixture of tar and grease, and the rusty
iron rasped over it; he is then asked, if he had ever crossed the Line
before; on answering “No,” he is in hopes they have finished with
him; they bid him say “God save the King,” which obliging him to
open his mouth, the wit then is to stick a piece of tarred rope in it;
in the confusion, the seat is easily drawn from under him, and souse
he ducks into the tub; in this “buck-basket” situation several buck-
ets of water are thrown over him, and he is pushed forward amongst
his laughing comrades. This ducking across the Line, as it is called,
frees them for ever after; and I could not help observing, how
anxious and active the first sufferers were to get others into the same
situation. After the sailors had finished, the soldiers began, and I do
not believe one escaped; they did not seem at first to relish it, but
seeing others as dirty as themselves, it ended in general laughter, and
in two hours Neptune and his wife dwindled into mortals. They do
say, the lady is already very drunk; I believe it, for she has met with

* Why should not sailors as well have their Wallet de Shavres, as beaus their Valet de Chambres?
+ This man is not only a compleat humourist, but has a cast of countenance that immediately
tells it: he often when singing reminds me of Edwin.

62

Crossing the Line

1792, continued

a great deal of applause, and a copious quantity of grog, and I hear
her stammering away in the steerage.

“She has done me the honor of calling in my cabin, and drinking
a stiff glass of grog; at the same time assuring me, by a mortal squeeze
of the hand, that she was sure, “I loved a sailor dearly,” and that she
hoped, “sailors and soldiers would always fight hard and drink hard
together.” I shewed my approval by another glass of grog; and, I
am very well assured, we parted friends; and where was the harm
of it? For when sailors and soldiers have the privilege (of the day)
to do their best to be happy, it is the duty of every man (that is only
an allowed superior) to endeavour to make them so.

“I wonder from whence this curious custom arose; but I am sure
it is so rooted a one that, if a ship was not to be granted it, it would
occasion a dangerous cabal amongst the crew. Who knows but
Vasco de Gama, who was always so happy in a ready thought, might
have been the framer of it, to keep up the hearts of his men, previous
to his doubling the Cape in his great perilous voyage? But, whoever
he was, he had a wise head; for long voyages require a bustle every
now and then to keep the devil out of the sailors heads. Trade winds
are pleasant, but too insipid; a ship is sometimes a month without
having occasion to touch a rope; and sometimes so becalmed, as
to be almost as long without advancing a degree; of course a languor
ensues; which is a time for bad men to be thinking evil themselves,
and working it up in others. In foul weather they have enough to do;
but it would be a good practice on a calm evening to pipe all hands
to drum, fife, and dance; for what can be more harmless than kick-
ing bad thoughts out of the head than the cheerful sound of the
drum, exhilarated with a well-timed glass of grog, or more salutary
callibogus * (which is never spared in this ship). When they are
tired with dancing, they should be encouraged to sing and tell tales;
there are always some capital fellows in this way, and I have often
listened with delight to the rude unlettered songs of the forecastle,
and to the brave soldiers upon nightly guard.

“Thus, my friend, have I endeavoured to describe, as faithfully
as I can, what I have now twice been an eye witness of; and I am
persuaded (though I have often heard it ridiculed), when con-
ducted with the laugh and manner of this day, it is not only useful
amongst the men, but as well worth seeing as a farce, and was per-
formed by characters as valuable as any in the world — by British

* So called by sailors, spruce-beer mixed with grog.

The Eighteenth Century 63

Sailors! — As to dirty faces, there is an Ocean around us, to wash
them clean; and there is never danger of taking cold from an immer-
sion in salt water.”

(Gentleman’s Magazine: and Historical Chronicle. London, 1792.
v. 71 [62], p. 412-414.)

Sylvanus Urban ranks high as an editor closely in touch with the public taste of his day. Wit-
ness the 137-year record of his London publication that gave commoners as well as the gentry and
nobility so many things they liked to read, light in touch as well as impressively serious and
profound and informative.

He spread this story before his readers, as requested by “A Rambler” in May, 1792, (vol. 62,
p- 412-414) headed “Ceremony used on board ships crossing the Line.” So far as I know he never
told how happy he was when The Daily Advertiser newspaper of New York lifted the story
entirely, though with a few minor changes of no real importance, on the 30th of April, 1793
(v. 9, no. 60, p. 2, col. 2) and with never a word of acknowledgment, not one bit of thanks
to Sylvanus.

George Laurence Gomme thought the story worth including also in the “Manners and Customs”
volume of his The Gentleman’s Magazine Library: being a classified collection of the chief con-
tents of the Gentleman s Magazine from 1731 to 1868 (p. 178-180) with no changes except for
modernizing the spelling and using our round “s” instead of the long.

This sprightly tale seems probably — undoubtedly? — from the hand of a woman writing to
family or intimate friend on her second trip to India on one of the John Company ships carrying
troops, passengers, cargo.

“Callibogus” may send some of us to our dictionaries. The Oxford dismisses it summarily as
“American beverage,” with 1785 and Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue as source, nothing
beyond that. Grose’s use of it seems to show that the “vulgar” knew it well for some time before he
printed it. And one would think that the letter writer would scarcely have used it here so casually
and as so well-known if it had not rung a familiar note to her ears and those her letter went to.

The Chicago Dictionary of American English goes back to 1758 under “Calibogus” and
Nathaniel Ames in The Dedham [Massachusetts] Historical Register, v. 1, p. 16, 1890, as giving
1758 for the almanac birth date of the “Calabogus” Club.

“A Rambler” in his introduction asks “from what occasion it arose,” meaning custom arose...
whoever he was, he had a wise head; for long voyages require a bustle every now and then to
keep the devil out of the sailors heads . . . it would be good practice to pipe all hands to drum,
fife, and dance; for what can be more harmless than kicking bad thoughts out of the head by
the chearful sound of the drum, exhilarated with a well-timed glass of grog, or more salutary
callibogus .. . ?”

The speculation of 1792 is quite as much speculation in 1955 as when first voiced, is it not?

“Swearing at Highgate” is explained in the Encyclopædia Britannica, 11th edition (v. 13,
p. 455): “In the time of stage-coaches a custom was introduced of making ignorant persons
believe that they required to be sworn and admitted to the freedom of the Highgate before
being allowed to pass the gate, the fine of admission being a bottle of wine.”

1796

In the afternoon of this day [27 January] we passed the tropic. In the course
of the morning saw several tropical birds, and in the afternoon a ceremony,
with which the sailors always treat their brethren that have not passed the
line, was performed. It is a very old custom, and practised by, I believe, all
nations. One of the sailors is made to personate Neptune, who is supposed
to rise from the sea, accompanied by his wife Amphitrite. They are clad in a

64 Crossing the Line

1796, continued

most ridiculous manner, in order to represent the high and mighty god and
goddess of the ocean. These dieties have two attendants, one of which is
supposed to be a very humble inhabitant of the deep, on earth yclept a barber.
Mister Neptune greets you with a welcome to the tropic and an offer of a
bottle of milk and a newspaper that he is supposed to have got a few days
before from ashore, adding that he shall order a prosperous gale to carry you
to your intended port. This is what passes in the cabin and with the pas-
sengers, who order according to custom some rum, etc., by way of treat to
Neptune and his party for his visit. But the ceremony observed to the poor
devils of sailors who have never passed the line is not quite so courteous.
One of the Neptune’s attendants seizes the unfortunate man, and after blind-
folding him, they place him on a pole put across a large tub of water. The
attendant then puts the small end of a speaking trumpet in his mouth, which
obliges the poor wretch to stretch it open pretty wide. Some questions are
then asked, such as, ‘What countryman are you?’ ‘Where are you bound to?’
etc. etc. On his making the reply a quantity of salt water is poured down the
trumpet, a part of which of course finds its way towards the stomach. An oath
is then administered purporting that he is never to suffer any person to pass
the line without undergoing the like ceremony. As the person initiated into
these Deistical mysteries of the tropical latitudes is obliged to repeat this
oath, he is the whole time saluted with libations of the god’s element, which
very much against his inclinations he is doomed to partake. Then comes on
the barber’s work, who after daubing the face and head of the fastbound
stranger with the vilest of all possible compositions, of tar, grease, etc. etc.,
proceeds to shave him with a piece of old iron, which not only takes away
the sweet-scented fine oily lather, but scrapes the face (carrying some
particles of skin with it) to that degree to cause howlings most hideous. The
barber and attendant, by way of congé, and considering it absolutely neces-
sary that the face, etc., should undergo a washing, on a sudden pull away
the pole on which the victim was seated, and souse he goes into the tub of
water; thus ends the ceremony. The god and goddess take no share except
being spectators of the mischief they have made. The master of the transport
told me that in some ships, instead of letting the man fall into the tub, he has
seen a rope made fast round a sailor, and the poor mortal thrown over the
side and towed for some yards. This part of the ceremony the watery god did
not execute from our ship as she was travelling rather too fast — going at
least seven knots an hour. This same business was repeated on five of the
sailors, to the no small amusement of the redcoats. Barbarous as the cere-
mony was, I own I laughed most immoderately.

(William Dyott. Dyotts diary, 1781-1845, a selection from the journal of
William Dyott, sometime general in the British army and aide-de-camp

The Eighteenth Century 65

to His Majesty King George III, edited by Reginald W. Jeffery. London,
1907. v. 1, p. 87-89.)
1797

And in another letter on shipboard, Audubon refers to crossing “the line”
for the second time, and the memories it awakened of his “high birth.” (p. 50)
By further deduction, it would appear that one of the destinations of these
two Audubon travelers was Jean Audubon’s mysterious estate on the Ile a
Vaches, off Saint Domingue, on which trip John James Audubon “crossed the
line” for the first time. If this be true, it would identify John James Audubon’s
later and enigmatic reference to his crossing the line for the second time and
the memories it evoked of his first crossing, of his youth, and of his high birth.
(p. 65)
P The ‘unpublished letters of John James Audubon follow, in one of which
he writes:
June 4, 1826, At Sea
We are a few miles south of the line for the second time in my life.
What ideas it conveys to me of my high birth and the expectations
of my younger days. (p. 67)

(Alice Jaynes Tyler. I who should command all. New York: G. P. Put-
nam’s Sons, cop. 1937, 1942. passim. )

Reprinted with permission.

The book sets out to prove that Audubon was really the Dauphin of France, the son of Louis
XVI and Marie Antoinette, who, the author writes, was said by the French Government to have
died in the Temple on June 8, 1794. The writer notes that “This unpublished Audubon material
came to me from Maria Audubon. When Maria Audubon was working on her monumental
compilation of her grandfather's journals, she copied into a little black notebook certain tran-
scripts, which, in her opinion threw light on her grandfather's identity. This little black notebook
she willed to my husband and me.” (p. 15.)

What happened to the original manuscripts, where these transcripts are to be found now
seems to get no mention.

2

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
c. 1801

A travers quelques accidens ordinaires aux voyages de mer, notre goëllette
approchait du Tropique, et l'équipage entrevoyait avec délices le jour où le
capitaine Niquelet lui permettrait de solenniser la cérémonie consacrée, dans
une des phases les plus intéressantes des grands traversées. Le jour des
saturnales maritimes arriva enfin pour nous. Le navire, dès le matin, prit un
air de fête. L'équipage et les passagères revêtirent leurs habits de dimanche,
et ces derniers se disposèrent, avec ceux qui n'avaient pas encore vu le
Bonhomme-Tropique, à recevoir le copieux baptème qui devait les initier à
ces burlesques mystères des pontifes équatoriaux et tropicaux. Une petite
chapelle recouverte de draps de lit et ornée de fleurs empruntées aux cha-
peaux de nos passagères, fut dressée sur le gaillard d’arrière. On commença,
comme chose obligée, par faire voir, à la longue-vue, le cercle du Tropiqué
du Cancer à tous nos voyageurs, en placant un cheveu sur l'objectif de la
lunette. Chacun d’eux s’etonna, comme d'habitude, que l'on put apercevoir
ainsi une des lignes circulaires de la sphère céleste. Jamais ils n'avaient voulu
ajouter foi à ce prodige, qu'on leur avait annoncé bien à l'avance; mais il
fallait bien se rendre à l'évidence. On apprend tant de choses en naviguant!
A terre, il n'y a que des illusions. C’est à la mer qu'il faut aller pour com-
mencer à faire connaissance avec les réalités.

Un gros gabier, affublé d’un robe blanche sur le collet de laquelle de-
scendait une copieuse barbe d’étoupes, grimpe sur les barres du grand-mät,
brandissant un harpon en guise de crosse épiscopale ou de trident neptunien.
Un matelot travesti en postillon était venu le fouet à la main, enfourchant
un de ses camarades transformé en ours blanc au moyen d’une peau de
mouton, apporter au capitaine une lettre à lui adressée par le Dieu dont on
allait célébrer la fête. Le capitaine avait remis au courrier du Bonhomme-
Tropique, la liste des marins et des passagères qui allaient pénétrer dans la
redoutable zône soumise à sa céleste domination. Toutes les bailles et tous
les seaux avaient été remplis sur le pont de l'eau qui coulait le long du bord.
La pompe détrave jouait depuis le matin, et faisait ruisseler à longs flots
cette onde régénératrice réservée aux ablutions du baptème. Tout nous
annonçait enfin que les aspersions ne seraient pas plus épargnées que les
instructions relatives à notre initiation à ces grotesques mystères. Dès la
veille aussi, on avait eu la précaution de barbouiller de peinture noire les
deux petits mousses du bord, destinés à devenir non pas ses séraphins ou
les anges, mais bien tout simplement les diablotins du Dieu; et le grand jour
venu, les deux diablotins enduits de goudron avaient été roulés dans la plume
qu on avait fait arracher aux oreillers de nos passagères. Cela fait, à midi, le
Bonhomme-Tropique, perché sur les grandes barres, cria dans un long porte-

[67]

0

68 Crossing the Line
c. 1801, continued

voix, en faisant mine de grelotter de froid, malgré la peau de mouton dont il
était recouvert sous une temperature de vingt-cinq degrés Réamur:

— Ho! du navire, ho!

— Hola! répondit aussi, au porte-voix, le capitaine, en moutant
gravement sur son banc de quart.

— D'où vient le navire?

— De Saint-Malo.

— Où allez-vous?

— À la Martinique.

— Comment se nomme le susdit navire?

— La goëlette la Gazelle.

— Quel est le nom du capitaine?

— Jean-Baptiste Niquelet.

— Ta goëllette, Jean-Baptiste Niquetet, a-t-elle dejà pénétré dans
mon Empire?

— Jamais encore, Bonhomme-Tropique.

— Consens-tu à payer pour elle le tribut, ou 4 voir sa figure ab-
battue par la hache des sapeurs-pompiers de ma garde?

— Oui, Bonhomme-Tropique, je consens à payer le tribut légiti-
memement du à ta sacrée Majesté.

— Que veux-tu donc donner pour que les susdits sapeurs de ma
garde n’abattent pas la figure de ta Goëlette et pour racheter le
bâtiment des coups de hache qui en feraient un paquet d’allu-
mettes?

— Double ration à l’equipage, et quelque chose de sec pour te
rechauffer de ton tremblement de froid.

— As-tu beaucoup de gens à ton bord qui ne seraient pas venus
sur mes états?

— Douze. En voici la liste que je me suis fait déjà l'honneur de re-
mettre au courrier que ta Majesté m'a expédié ce matin.

— Le capitaine nomma les douze neöphytes, au nombre desquels
je me trouvais nécessairement inscrit. — Le Bonhomme-Tropique
reprit, toujours en grelottant et en se récriant sur l'extrême abais-
sement de la température.

— Consent-ils tous à être baptisés?

— Tous!

— A la bonne heure! Avance l'escouade des prêtres et des curés
de ma Majesté!

Alors, les pontifes du Dieu, ou tout au moins les chambellans du roi tropical
allèrent le chercher en cérémonie dans les haubans où il s'était nuageuse-
ment juché. On jeta quelques gouttes d’eau de rédemption sur la figurine
de la Gazelle, et les haches, qui avaient été levées sur elle, pour le cas où le

The Nineteenth Century 69

capitaine se serait refusé a payer sa rançon, quittèrent les mains des licteurs
goudronnés pour faire place à des seaux remplis jusqu'aux bords. Une grèle
de pois verts et de harricots blancs tomba des barres sur nos têtes, au milieu
du sifflement des vents simulés par une demi-escouade de Tritons et de
Néréides, armés de tous nos souflets de cuisine. Après l'explosion de ce
météore ou de ce cataclysme artificiel, chaque néophyte les veux bandés,
fut invité à s'asseoir sur une planche mobile, soutenue aux extrémités par
les rebords d’une grande baille d’eau, et à se laisser raser le menton par le
barbier ordinaire du Dieu. Chaque aspirant au baptème, retenu sur ce siége
chancelant, faisait sa confession à l'oreille du Bonhomme-Tropique, et lui
promettait de ne jamais faire la cour à la femme d'un marin. Un filet de
goudron, bien liquide, lui était passé sur le menton, qu'on lui essuyait bien
délicatement avec un tampon de’étoupes, et qu’on lui râclait ensuite avec
un sabre de bois. C’est alors qu'une messe était dite en l'honneur du nouveau
baptisé; et au mot Amen! la planche qui lui servait de siége manquait, et il
se trouvait plongé le derrière le premier dans la baille, où une douzaine de
seaux d’eau de mer lui étaient lancés avec l'accompagnement obligé du jet
d’une pompe de lavage. Nos deux dames furent seules un peu ménagées par
nos arroseurs, et moyennant quelques pièces blanches et une entière sou-
mission, tous les nouveaux catéchumènes en furent quittes pour cette épreuve,
qui n’est désagréable que pour ceux qui ne veulent pas se prêter de bonne
grace à cette burlesque initiation, source de gaité, et prétexte de petits profits
pour des malheureux qui n’ont que trop rarement l’occasion de se réjouir, et
d’oublier leurs fatigues et leur cruel isolement.*

(Edouard Corbière. Le négrier. Paris, 1855. 4. ed. p. 254-259.)

This tale of a slaver is placed in time of the Empire. In the “confidence d’auteur au public,”
Corbiére pays tribute to Fenimore Cooper and Eugene Sue for their sea tales. Of Cooper he says
he had no wish to be the weak copyist of a great master. Sue, he says, is more brilliant than true,
more a colorist than a thinker, more a sceptic than a philosopher. Trying to escape the danger of
following either, he decided to “revetir d’une forme quelque peu litteraire, ces reminiscences de ma
jeunesse et de ma profession.”

“AT sea they have a ridiculous ceremony,” wrote the Sieur Guillet de Saint
George in the year 1678 — “prophane et ridicule” are the words in the
original — “that when Sailors cross the Line or Tropic that have not been
there before they must pay certain forfeitures demanded of them or else be
ducked or baptized (as they call it) either from the main yard-arm or other-
wise” — adding that each nation making voyages to the East had a different
form of initiation. Ducking “the baptized” from the main-yard must have
been the most drastic form — “as if he were a criminal” as Esquemeling,
writing about the same time of Dutch methods, had observed. Other com-
mentators, such as Osbeck, merely mention that the men having been called
on deck, pails of water were thrown over those who had not crossed the line

* Les Anglais nomment le jour de grande barbe, celui où ils passent le Tropique ou la Ligne.

70 Crossing the Line
c. 1801, continued

before — a variant so pleasant under the Equator that those who were exempt
by the rules of the game often, he says, voluntarily “partook of the bathing.”
There were doubtless also seamen who enjoyed, even as victims, the rough-
and-tumble described by Falconer, the dressing up as Neptune and Amphi-
trite, and the shaving and ducking which came to be practised in English
ships, as every schoolboy has heard. But when Neptune laid hands on pas-
sengers it happened once or twice that they were so deficient in the saving
grace of humour as to take legal proceedings as soon as they got ashore. I have
not found any record of such a case having been tried in England, but sep-
arated by an interval of fifty years, there were two in India, and perhaps the
uncommon nature of such an action at law may justify a brief recital of the
facts in those forgotten suits.

Mr. Nathaniel Castleton Maw was a young man who, having obtained a
cadetship in the military service of the East India Company, was in 1801
proceeding to Bombay to commence his duties. The ship in which he sailed to-
gether with some seven or eight other young gentlemen destined for the same
profession was called the Scaleby Castle: and when she was nearing the line
the sailors in accordance with custom announced that the passengers would
be expected to undergo the ceremony of shaving and ducking at the hands
of Father Neptune. Mr. Maw from the first declared that he would not submit
to it: the others were disposed to treat the matter as a joke, though that was
before they knew how far it would be carried. There was a particular reason
why Maw should have an objection to horseplay of the kind usual on such
- occasions since he was afflicted with a withered arm or some deformity of
the kind. It could hardly have been of a serious nature or it would have stood
in the way of his soldiering, and as a matter of fact he was made a lieutenant
before 1802. But however slight his infirmity it was natural that he should
shrink from anything likely to call public attention to it. Besides this private
reason another and a more general one was stated to have weighed with him
in resisting from the outset the threatened attack upon his dignity. With the
exception of the few British seamen who were intent upon the accustomed
ceremonial the whole of the crew were natives of India, and Mr. Maw thought
that the spectacle of an English officer being shaved and ducked by the fore-
castle would be liable to be misunderstood by orientals.

Now it was usually a pleasing feature of the shaving and ducking rite that
exemption might be purchased for a pecuniary or a spirituous consideration
— possibly always much the same thing: at all events the English practice
so far as I am aware shows nothing similar to the pious use mentioned by
Osbeck of devoting a portion of the “collection” on these occasions to “the
Orphan House at Gothenburgh.” Mr. Maw offered to pay the customary tax
and one can only suppose that he must either by excess of dignity or angry
words have rendered himself so obnoxious to the crew that they put him, so
to speak, out of court. Certain it is that on the morning of the 28th September
when the line was crossed, Maw was walking about the deck armed with a

The Nineteenth Century all

cutlass and pistols and breathing defiance; and this notwithstanding that the
Captain had given notice that any passenger who disliked the impending
pastimes of the crew might retire into his (the Captain’s) cabin. It is not
clear why Maw did not do so, and without in the least excusing the violence
to which he was subjected one can see that a different demeanour on his part
might probably have avoided the whole affair.

Perhaps he took a youthful pride in tilting at established custom, though
it is impossible now to say exactly how the matter came to a head; but after
the display of the cutlass and the touch-me-who-dare attitude, further offers
of liquor to be supplied on arrival at Bombay, even when backed by the
suretyship of Mr. Patterson, the fourth officer, were of no avail. Father Nep-
tune was evidently roused and determined to vindicate his importance, for
Mr. Learmouth, the first officer, when Maw asked if he might go into his own
cabin during the ceremony, told him that he would not be safe there. Maw,
however, went, barricaded the door with boxes and trunks, and even took
care to close his port to prevent invasion from without. But the stubbornness
which led him thus to deprive himself of light and air in a stuffy cabin under
the Line during the hottest part of the day was matched by that of the other
side. Learmouth was right, and Raymond, the third mate, now gave coun-
tenance to the proceedings of the crew, and suggested, if he did not actually
direct, that the door should be forced and the port opened. Maw does not
seem to have known how to fasten the latter properly: and whilst one con-
tingent of Neptune's party took the carpenter below to unscrew the hinges
from the door, a seaman named Edwards was let down the ship’s side to
negotiate the port. This worthy, who had a drawn cutlass in one hand, suc-
ceeded in lifting up the port to a certain extent with a stick which he carried
in the other, and he proceeded to make thrusts with the more lethal weapon
through the aperture. Mr. Maw was probably not placed in much jeopardy
thereby, and his military instinct no doubt rejoiced in the clash of steel upon
steel as he parried with his sword. How long Edwards, precariously thrusting
from outside, and Mr. Maw, fencing in the semi-darkness inside, con-
tinued this comical combat does not appear: but the former bore in mind the
superior armament of Mr. Maw in having two pistols and did not venture
further through the port-hole until he heard them fired off. Then he leapt
into the cabin at the same moment as the other myrmidons of the sea-god
burst open the door. Apparently they had all been waiting for the pistols to

o off, not aware that Mr. Maw with a restraint and care for theatrical effect
alike creditable to him had only loaded them with powder. Once Mr. Maw’s
barriers were down he was an easy victim and quickly disarmed of his cut-
lass. His assailants then dragged him up on deck, where he managed for
some time to delay his execution by hanging on to the door-post of the cuddy,
calling out lustily meanwhile for the Captain. That officer, however, remained
discreetly in his cabin during the whole performance and afterwards pro-
fessed to have heard nothing either of the shouts or of the struggle. Messrs.
Learmouth and Raymond, the first and third officers, were on deck, but so

7 Crossing the Line
c. 1801, continued

far from interfering with Maw’s tormentors, considerately took care of his
watch for him. He was at length torn from his hold, and in spite of all his
attempts to escape — his advocate in the action for assault subsequently
brought gravely stated that at this juncture his client tried to jump overboard
— was taken along the quarter-deck to the waist and forcibly held down in
a boat placed there half-full of dirty water for the business of the day. His
eyes were bandaged with something not too clean, tar was rubbed upon his
face and scraped off again with the usual piece of rusty hoop-iron, and he
was duly ducked in the dirty water, all in the most orthodox fashion.

Mr. Maw brought his action of assault and battery against Learmouth and
Raymond, joining as defendants a number of the seamen, members of Nep-
tune’s gang, whom one would have thought hardly worth legal powder and
shot. The case was tried in March, 1802, in the Recorder’s Court at Bombay.
It was not alleged that the plaintiff had been in any way differently treated
from the other six or seven young gentlemen, except in so far as he had him-
self accentuated matters by refusing to “come quietly.” But consent being
of course the crux of the whole matter it could not be denied that a violent
assault had been made upon him. The sea custom was merely mentioned by
the defence as some palliation of what had occurred, and it is of interest to
note that in 1802 it was stated to have been “put a stop to from a sense of
its impropriety in nine ships out of ten.” It is rather surprising that Captain
Gardiner of the Scaleby Castle was allowed to escape responsibility for what
was going on in his own ship by simply remaining below. He was called as
a witness to testify to the impropriety of the plaintiff's treatment and was
permitted to say that he (the Captain) would not have allowed it had he
been present, but he was not made a defendant, and the Judge at the hearing
contented himself with the mild observation that he wished Gardiner had
been on deck. The responsibility of the first and third officers was patent:
they were in charge of the deck the whole time, and according to one wit-
ness Learmouth had himself thrown a bucket of water over the plantiff.
Thus encouraged by their officers not very much blame perhaps attached to
the seamen: and the 400 rupees, which were awarded as damages against
all the defendants generally, were no doubt levied against Messrs. Lear-
mouth and Raymond, as the Recorder suggested.

In the later case — or rather cases — heard in the Small Cause Court at
Madras in September, 1851, the Captain and First Officer of the True Briton
were separately sued by a passenger named King, a ship’s steward, who had
been lathered with a mixture of flour and water and well drenched in salt
water in a “crossing of the line” diversion on board that ship. Some week or
two before the hearing twelve saloon passengers advertised in the Madras
Spectator a testimonial to Captain Roe’s “unremitting endeavours” to pro-
mote their comfort during the voyage, and signified their intention to present
him with a piece of plate. Whether this public eulogium had any effect or
not, or whether King’s excitable behaviour — he was said to have broken the

The Nineteenth Century 73

cuddy window in revenge — told against him, the court was evidently re-
luctant to mulct the Captain in damages. But the Judge was obliged to lay it
down that passengers were entitled to the protection of the Captain, whom
he described as a magistrate on board. An interesting article, by the way,
might possibly be written on the legal position, illustrated by instances, of
the merchant skipper as the depository on the high seas of the sovereignty
of the state whose flag he flies. But to return to Madras; the case of Maw
against Learmouth was cited, being apparently the only known precedent
but it was distinguished from the case then before the court inasmuch as
King had not sought the protection of the officers as Maw had done in vain.
A suggested arrangement between the parties coming to nothing, R. 100
damages were awarded. Then immediately afterwards the claim against the
First Officer was called on and the point was raised (by the same advocate
who had defended the Captain) that it could not be proved that the De-
fendant resided within the jurisdiction of the Court. This technical conten-
tion was upheld, the Judge remarking that had the objection been taken in
Captain Roe’s case he would have decided it in his favour. Truly the course
of justice in the Small Cause Court of Madras seems that day to have zig-
zagged a little; but if Captain Roe had to pay his R. 100 it is to be hoped that
his piece of plate “with a suitable inscription” more than compensated him.

The above stories are abridged from the Indian newspapers respectively
reporting them. Both are briefly mentioned in Prendergast’s “Law Relating to
Officers of the Navy,” published in 1852, but he only gives as a reference for
Maw v. Learmouth a scarce book of which the British Museum appears to
have no copy and for the True Briton case no reference at all. The scarce
book, Medland and Weobly’s “Remarkable Trials,” when found, contains
only the Bombay Courier’s report reprinted. I ought to add that by the
courtesy of the Librarian at the India Office I have been able to consult both
that newspaper and the Madras Spectator. If the result, as here set forth,
cannot be called archaeology, it at least chronicles the small beer of a bygone
order.

(W. Senior. Neptune as defendant. In: The Mariner’s Mirror. London,
June 1914. v. 4, p. 162-167.)

Reprinted with permission.

Note the later reference under 1851.
Among the festivals of the old Roman calendar, in pagan times, we find one
celebrated on the 8d of December, in honour of Neptune and Minerva. In
connection with the former of these deities we may here appropriately intro-
duce the account of a well-known custom, which, till recently, prevailed on
board ship, and was regarded as specially under the supervision of Neptune
who, in proprid persond, was supposed to act the principal part in the cere-
mony in question. We refer to the grand marine saturnalia which used to be
performed when ‘crossing the line” that is, when passing from north to south

74 Crossing the Line
c. 1801, continued

latitude, or vice versd. The custom, in some form or other, is believed to be
very ancient, and to have been originally instituted on the occasion of ships
passing out of the Mediterranean into the Atlantic, beyond the ‘Pillars of
Hercules.’ It had much more absurdity than vice about it; but sometimes it
became both insulting and cruel. When the victims made no resistance, and
yeilded as cheerfully as they could to the whim of the sailors, the ceremony
was performed somewhat in the following way, as related by Captain Ed-
ward Hall, and quoted by Hone: “The best executed of these ceremonies I
ever saw, was on board a ship of the line, of which I was lieutenant, bound
to the West Indies. On crossing the line, a voice, as if at a distance, and at
the surface of the water, cried: “Ho, ship ahoy! I shall come on board!” This
was from a person slung over the bows, near the water, speaking through
his hands. Presently two men of large stature came over the bows. They had
hideous masks on. One represented Neptune. He was naked to the waist,
crowned with the head of a large wet swab, the end of which reached to his
loins, to represent flowing locks; a piece of tarpaulin, vandyked, encircled
the head of the swab and his brows as a diadem; his right hand wielded a
boarding-pike, manufactured into a trident; and his body was smeared with
red ochre, to represent fish-scales. The other sailor represented Amphitrite,
having locks formed of swabs, a petticoat of the same material, with a girdle
of red bunting; and in her hand a comb and looking-glass. They were fol-
lowed by about twenty fellows, naked to the waist, with red ochre scales, as
Tritons. They were received on the forecastle with much respect by the old
sailors who had provided the carriage of an eighteen-pounder gun as a car,
which their majesties ascended: and were drawn aft along the gangway to
the quarter-deck by the sailors. Neptune addressing the captain, said he
was happy to see him again that way; adding that he believed there were
some “Johnny Raws” on board who had not paid their dues, and whom he
intended to initiate into the salt-water mysteries. The captain answered
that he was happy to see him, but requested that he would make no more
confusion than was necessary. They then descended to the main-deck and
were joined by all the old hands, and about twenty “barbers,” who sub-
mitted the shaving-tackle to inspection’. This shaving-tackle consisted of
pieces of rusty hoop for razors, and very unsavoury compounds as shaving-
soap and shaving-water, with which the luckless victim was bedaubed and
soused. If he bore it well, he was sometimes permitted to join in performing
the ceremony on other ‘Johnny Raws!’ See engraving on the following page.

It was not always, however, that neophytes conformed without resistance
to such rough christening ceremonies. A legal action, instituted in 1802,
took its rise from the following circumstances. When the ship Soleby Castle
was, in the year mentioned, crossing the equator on the way to Bombay, the
sailors proceeded to the exercise of their wonted privilege. On this occasion,
one of the passengers on board, Lieutenant Shaw, firmly resisted the perform-
ance of the ceremony. He offered to buy off the indignity by a present of

The Nineteenth Century 75

money or spirits; but this was refused by the men, and it then became a con-
test of one against many. Shaw shut himself up in his cabin, the door of which
he barricaded with trunks and boxes; and he also barred the port or small
window. After he had remained some time in this voluntary imprisonment,
without light or air, during the hottest part of the day, and ‘under the line’,
the crew, dressed as Neptune and his satellites, came thundering at his cabin-
door, and with oaths and imprecations demanded admission. This he refused,
but at the same time renewed his offer of a compromise. Mr. Patterson, the
fourth mate, entreated the crew, but in vain, to accept the offer made to
them. The men, becoming chafed with the opposition, resolved now to obtain
their way by force, regardless of consequences. They tried to force the door,
but failed. Mr. Raymond, third mate, sanctioned and approved the conduct
of the men; and suggested that while some were engaged in wrenching the
door off its hinges, others should effect an entry through the port. A sailor,
armed with a sword and bludgeon, was lowered by a rope down the outside
of the ship; and he succeeded in getting into the cabin, just at the moment
when the other sailors forced open the door. Lieutenant Shaw defended him-
self for a time with his sword, and fired off his pistols — more for the sake of
summoning assistance than to do injury, for they were not loaded. The whole
gang now pressed round him, and after wresting the sword from his hand,
dragged him upon deck. There he clung for some time to the post of the
cuddy-door; and, finding the first and third mates to be abetting the seamen,
he called out loudly for the captain. The captain’s cabin-door, however, was
shut, and he either did not or would not hear the appeal. So impressed was
the sensitive mind of the lieutenant with the indignity in store for him, that he
actually endeavoured to throw himself overboard, but this was prevented
by Mr. Patterson. Unmoved by all his entreaties, the crew proceeded with the
frolic on which they had set their hearts, and which, after the resistance they
had encountered, they resolved not to forego on any terms. They seized the
lieutenant, dragged him along the quarter-deck to the middle of the ship, and
placed him sitting in a boat half-filled with filthy liquid. His eyes being
bandaged with a dirty napkin, a nauseous composition of tar and pitch was
rubbed over his face, as ‘Neptune's shaving soap, and scraped off again by
means of a rusty hoop, which constituted “Neptune's razor.’ He was then
pushed back with violence into the boat, and there held struggling for some
seconds, with his head immersed in the noisome liquid. Injured in body
by this rough treatment, he was much more wounded in his mental feelings;
and when the ship arrived at Bombay, he brought action against the first
and third mates. The fourth mate bore witness in his favour; and the captain,
as a witness, declared that he did not hear the cry for assistance; but it is
known that captains, at that time, were mostly unwilling to interfere with
the sailors. The damages of 400 rupees ( £40), though more than the mates
relished to pay, could scarcely be deemed a very satisfactory recompense for
the inflictions which the lieutenant had undergone.

76 Crossing the Line
c. 1801, continued

The improvement wrought among seafaring-men during the last few years,
has tended to lessen very much the frequency of this custom. Not only naval
officers, but officers in the mercantile marine, are better educated than those
who filled such posts in former times; and the general progress of refinement
has led them to encourage more rational sports among the crew. The sailors
themselves are not much more educated than formerly; but improvement is
visible even here; and the spirit which delighted in the coarse fun of this
equatorial ‘shaving, is now decidedly on the wane.

(Chambers’ Book of Days. v. 2, p. 653-654. Edinburgh: W. & R. Chambers,
1864.)

Admittedly general in scope, but with enough emphasis on the Maw case to seem to call for
inclusion as an account largely on his case.

1802

[July 26, 1802, on board La Victoire] Cependant, depuis quelques jours, notre
équipage faisait de grands préparatifs, pour la célébration du fameux baptéme
du Tropique — sorte de carnaval autorisé sur les navires de l’État, afin de
maintenir la gaité, qui est un des éléments de la santé.

La fête devait avoir d’autant d’éclat que beaucoup d’entre nous se trou-
vaient dans le cas d’étre soumis a la classique ablution tropicale.

Le 24, dans l'après-midi, une grêle de pois secs et de gargousses tomba,
des hunes, sur le gaillard. Elle annonçait le courrier du Bonhomme, ou Roi
du Tropique.

Ce courrier, faisant claquer son fouet, descendit de la grande hune. C'était
un gabier, très joliment vêtu en postillon. Il avait la veste galonnée, la plaque,
la culotte de peau, les bottes et les éperons réglementaires, sans oublier la
grosse queue ou catogan, qui symbolise la coiffure des vrais braves enfants
de la Poste.

S’avancant vers notre commandant, il lui remit une lettre, de la part de
son souverain. Cette lettre réclamait le tribut d’usage, payable par tous ceux
du bord qui entraient, pour la première fois, dans ses états.

Gravement, M. de Péronne répondit:

— Je suis trop bon marin et trop vieil ami du Bonhomme Tropique, pour
lui refuser une si juste réclamaiion. Que votre maitre veuille bien venir de-
main a mon bord, il aura pleine satisfaction.

—Sa Majesté se présentera, accompagnée de toute sa cour, répondit le
courrier.

Le lendemain, 26, par 86° 96, de longitude occidentale, nous coupämes,
effectivement, le Tropique du Cancer.

Dès le matin, tout avait été préparé pour la fête. Une tente avait été plantée,
au pied du grand mat. Sous cette tente, se dressait un autel surmonté d’une
croix, et de tous les attributs de la navigation: cartes marines, compas,
octant...

The Nineteenth Century TY

A droite de l'autel, le trône du Père Tropique. A gauche, une grande cuve,
remplie d’eau, sur laquelle une planche était posée en travers.

Le bruit de la foudre et une grêle analogue à celle de la veille, annoncèrent
l'arrivée du roi Tropique.

Il descendit de la grande hune. Il avait une barbe blanche d’etoupe, et,
bien que couvert de fourrures, feignait de grelotter, en dépit d’une tempéra-
ture de 26°. Derrière lui, descendit sa cour, composée de la moitié de l’équi-
page.

Les déguisements étaient fort ingénieux.

C'était, d’abord, un tout jeune homme imberbe, au joli visage, qui repré-
sentait Amphitrite, épouse du vieux Tropique. Des mousses, en tritons, lui
faisaient cortège.

Derrière ce groupe, Neptune, son trident à la main, traîné sur un char fait
avec un affût de canon. Ensuite, les esclaves du Tropique, barbouillés de
différentes couleurs.

Voici une troupe de guerriers, vêtus à l’orientale, grâce à tous les pavillons
et signaux mis à leur disposition. Voici les gendarmes et l'aumônier du Père
Tropique; des paysans bretons, un ours dansant au son du fifre. A clore le
cortège, le diable avec ses cornes et sa fourche.

Après avoir défilé sur le gaillard et fait le tour de la tente, le Bonhomme y
pénétra, et le cortège se rangea autour de lui.

Son secrétaire commença l'appel de tous ceux qui devaient recevoir le
baptème.

Il appela, tout d’abord, M”° Jablonowski, et la femme du chirurgien-chef
de l’armée, dont le nom m'échappe. Galamment, notre commandant, les
conduisit, par la main, jusqu'à la cuve.

Toutes deux avaient revêtu une toilette de bal, très élégante. La coquet-
terie féminine ne désarme jamais, même pour une fête de matelots. Ce n'est
pas moi qui l'en blâmerai. Quelques gouttes d'eau furent jetées sur leurs
blanches mains.

Puis le défilé des hommes commença.

Voici la formule du baptème:

— Jurez que vous respecterez, en toute circonstance, les femmes des bons
marins.

— Je le jure! répondait le néophyte.

Alors, il était assis sur la planche fatidique: Un page du Père Tropique lui
présentait un bassin. S’il y déposait une offrande, il recevait, dans la manche
de son habit, quelques gouttes d’eau. Si non, il était saisi, brusquement, par
la ceinture de sa culotte, et plongé, dans la cuve, pour la plus grande joie
des spectateurs.

Comme il eut été trop long de baptiser, individuellement, tous les soldats,
ils le furent, en masse, avec la pompe à incendie.

La cérémonie s’acheva par des danses et des chants, exécutés sur le gail-
lard d’avant. Bientôt, sur la dunette, grades, âge, rang, tout fut confondu. On
se bousculait, on se lancait de l’eau, on se faisait mille farces.

78 Crossing the Line
1802, continued

Finalement, nous terminâmes la fête par un punch des plus copieux et des
plus épicés. Il fut bu, en trinquant à la santé du Tropique.

Telle fut — vraie bacchanale — notre fête du Tropique. A quelques vari-
antes près, elle se célèbre ainsi, à bord de tous les navires qui coupent le
cercle.

L'origine de cette burlesque cérémonie remonte très loin. Elle fut imaginée
par les navigateurs portugais et espagnols, qui osèrent, les premiers, à la fin
du XV’ siècle, s’aventurer sur l'infini de l'Atlantique.

(Christophe Paulin de la Poix, chevalier de Fréminville. Mémoires du
... capitaine des frégates du Roi. Edited by E. Herpin. Paris, 1913.
Bibliothèque de la revolution et de l'empire. v. 7, p. 30-33.)

In Man. v. 18 (1918), p. 187-188, is given a condensation in English by H. A. Rose, with the
following comment:

De Fréminville ascribes the origin of this ancient rite to the Portuguese and Spanish
navigators who ventured at the end of the fifteenth century upon the boundless Atlantic.
He also says that it was allowed on State ships in order to maintain cheerfulness, one
of the elements of health.

This account differs a good deal from that given in the Book of Days, in which no
mention is made of the ‘Old Tropic.’ As practised by English sailors, shaving the novice
was a principal feature, and by far the roughest part of the ordeal. The Book of Days
says the custom, in some form or other, is believed to be very ancient, and to have
been originally instituted on the occasion of ships passing out of the Mediterranean
into the Atlantic, beyond the ‘Pillars of Hercules.’ Could anyone give references to
classical Portuguese or Spanish authorities on the origin and history of the rite?

So far as I know this appeal “to classical Portuguese or Spanish authorities” made in 1918 has
brought no reply. Let us hope that voicing it nearly forty years later may be more fruitful.

But, as said before, almost all openminded listeners to the tales here set forth must probably
have found ourselves wondering if it all does not go back, far back of “classical Portuguese or
Spanish authorities,” for word about how primitive man struggling with the inviting and the
threatening ocean must have felt he had to ask for protection and favor when he faced the waves,
must have felt he should show in some way how he felt in face of that accepted higher power?

Is it fair to ask once more if the business of shivering by the Old Man of the Tropic as he came
down from the main top, all aquiver with the cold, even though well covered with furs and even
if the ship was right in the midst of tropical heat, may not hark back to a part of a rite of
northern origin?

Another account of the ceremony set down by Fréminville is found under 1822.

1808

We had parted company with the frigate only a few days, when the cry of
Neptune! Neptune! resounded from every part of the ship, and, on looking
forward I, to my utter astonishment, beheld the venerable Monarch of the
waves ascend the bows with his trident in his hand.* I ran towards the fore-
castle to receive him, and give my hand to his wife Amphitrite, together
with her attendant goddesses, who were climbing up the cutwater in
succession.

* It is in this manner a Sailor comes first on board ship; always at the bows, never through the
cabin-windows.

The Nineteenth Century 79

Neptune recognized me in a moment. In fact the motive that incited him
to come on board, was to impart something to me in private. We were old
acquaintance. I had been introduced to him on the Line in my very early
youth, and caroused with him in the cabins of a dozen or more ships.

Having retired to a convenient part of the deck, the god of the sea thus
addressed me.

“It has not escaped my notice that certain persons living on the island
whose ships maintain a supreme ascendancy in my dominions, have, in certain
books of extensive circulation, drawn such monsters as a ship never saw, and
presumptuously called them sailors. Certain authors by profession, named
Cumberland and Pratt, have atrociously offended in this particular. Godwin,
with more judgment, has confined himself in his last work to the telling of
lies through four volumes, and Saint Leon is not once to be found in my
dominions. But Holcroft has incurred my wrath. While Holcroft continues to
dress his characters invariably in leather-breeches and boots, and does not
invade my sea-weed, it is for the woollen-draper and shoe-maker to call him to
an account; but when he makes his personages to swear more than a swab-
ringer, or a boatswain’s yeoman, he robs my sailors of their oaths.

“To caution these men against a repetition of their crimes, is my motive
of visiting your ship in this unusual latitude. My sprite Ariel informed me you
were again on the ocean, and I have come since last night from the Tropic,
with my wife and her nymphs, to put into your hands a proclamation, which,
as you value fair winds, clear skies, and smooth water, I enjoin you to publish.
And I impose that you make it first known in a certain city of your island,
where, in one of the principal streets, the inhabitants have erected a statue
to me, which, in majesty of countenance, dignity of mien, and symmetry of
limb, is not to be exceeded by the Belvidere Apollo.”

Having concluded his speech, Neptune again stalked forward to the bows
of the ship, followed by his goddess and her attendant nymphs. He ordered
his car to be brought under the bows. But in passing the foremast, it ought
not to escape mention, that he levelled his trident at our horseshoe, and cut
it in twain. Still the horse-shoe adhered to the mast, and Neptune, with some
confusion, committed himself and his family again to the deep.

He mounts the car, the golden scourge applies,
He sits superior, and the chariot flies:
His whirling wheels the glassy surface sweep:
Th’ enormous monsters rolling o’er the deep,
Gambol around him on the watery way;
And heavy whales in awkward measures play:
The sea subsiding spreads a level plain,
Exults and crowns the monarch of the main:
The parting waves before his coursers fly;
The wond’ring waters leave his axle dry.
Pore.

80 Crossing the Line

1803, continued
PROCLAMATION OF NEPTUNE

“Whereas a number of book-wrights by trade, have undertaken, without
being qualified for the task, to introduce into their pages the characters
of sailors, and instead of exhibiting my legitimate children, have produced
a bastard race; I do hereby declare, that the time of impunity is at an end;
— and that henceforth should any man who has never been out of sound-
ings, or never beheld blue water, repeat the offence, — I will strike the
timber-head of his skull a blow with my trident, that shall dispatch his
soul to the deepest receptacle of Davy Jones’ Locker, whose bottom
no deep-sea-lead line could ever yet reach. Signed, NEPTUNE.

Latitude 44° 35’ North.
(True Copy.) Longitude 51° 19’ West.”
(John Davis. Travels of four years and a half in the United States of Amer-
ica. London, 1803. p. 421-424.)

The comment of one man runs: “It’s a horrible deformation of the primitive rite, but the whole
account of the sea journey has a distinct Rabelaisian smell.”

In 1909 Henry Holt & Company brought out a reprint “with an introduction and notes by A. J.
Morrison. The last section of the 1803 issue, “Voyage from Baltimore in Maryland to Cowes in the
Isle of Wight,” was omitted in the 1909 reprint.

Though bypassing the record of the ceremony, the crossing is mentioned again thus:

As we increased our longitude, the priest, in examining his barrels of white biscuit,
found one of them emptied by other hands than his own. Suspicion fell on a sailor,
whom he one day accused before the passengers, as he was standing at the helm. ‘Did
you not steal my biscuit, sirrah!’ said the parson. ‘I did, Sir, answered the fellow.
“And what, pray, can you say in defence of yourself?’ “Why, Sir, I can say that when I
crossed the Line, Neptune made me swear I would never eat brown bread when I could
get white; and your barrel of white stood next my barrel of brown.’ (p. 14.)

On the 26th of November, 1803 (new style) at 10:30 a. m., we crossed the
line into the Southern Hemisphere at 24° 24’ Western longitude, after a voy-
age of thirty days from Santa Cruz. To the accompaniment of a salvo of eleven
guns, we drank a toast to His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Alexander I,
during whose glorious reign the Russian flag was raised in the Southern
Hemisphere for the first time. We couldn’t have the usual celebration in honor
of Neptune because there was no one aboard beside myself who had previ-
ously crossed the equator. However, one sailor, name of Pavel Kurganov, was
such an accomplished actor and speaker that, trident in hand, he played his
part like an old dedicated servitor of the sea god, and congratulated the
Russians with sufficient decorum on entering Neptune’s Southern domain for
the first time.

Puteshestviye vokrug sveta v 1803 — 1804-1805 i 1806 godakh . . . na
korablyakh Nadezhde i Neve, pod nachal’stvom . . . Kruzenshterna, ( Voy-
age around the world in 1803... on the ships Nadezhda and Neva... under
the command of Captain Krusenstern) Sanktpeterburg, 1809. v. 1. p. 70-
719)

The translation was made by Dr. Avraham Yarmolinsky, former chief of the Slavonic Division,
The New York Public Library.

The Nineteenth Century 81

This is the earliest and shortest report of this crossing; two others follow in order of publication;
all three are by first hand participants.

The equator was crossed at 10 in the morning [November 26, 1803, new style].
After having made sure of it, I immediately ordered the pennant and jack-
staff flags to be raised on my ship, and congratulated my associate [the
captain of the sister ship Nadezhda] upon his safe arrival into the Southern
Hemisphere. At that time my seamen were placed at the shrouds and shouted
“Hurrah” several times. The same was done by the crew of the ship Nadezhda.

Yesterday's ceremony was only the introduction to the celebration today.
In the morning, after the parade the church service included a divine mass
and prayers of thanksgiving. Then the entire ship’s personnel assembled on
the quarter-deck. I congratulated them on the safe crossing into the Southern
hemisphere, and drank with all of them a toast to His Imperial Majesty,
calling three times: “Long live Emperor Alexander I!”

Since no other Russian ship except Neva and Nadezhda had crossed the
Equator, I wanted to mark this unusual event. I issued instructions to have
two ducks roasted for each squad (“artel”), make a pudding, cook fresh soup
with potatoes, pumpkin and other vegetables, which we secured at Teneriffe.
To all that was added a bottle of port for every three men. We sat down at the
table at 3 p. m., and at the end drank a toast again to our emperor. At that
time we raised the flag and fired salutes from all the guns. In the evening
the whole crew expressed their pleasure in singing, while we passed the time
in pleasant conversation and reminiscences about our relatives and friends.

(Puteshestviye vokrug sveta v 1803-4-5 i 1806 godakh na korable NEVE,
pod nachal’stvom Yuriya Lisyanskovo. Sanktpeterburg, 1812. v. i, p. 37-
38.) Voyage around the world in 1803-4-5 and 1806 . .. on the Neva
under the command of Yuril Lisyanski.

The translation was made by Dr. Avrahm Yarmolinsky.

November 26, 1803 [new style] at 10 a. m., we had the good fortune to cross
the line into the Southern hemisphere in clear weather at a speed of four knots.

This happy moment when Russians for the first time followed in the
footsteps of the great seafaring nations, was the cause of triumph for all of
us. Now we too have crossed the equator. Now, the Russians too, at long
last have arrived in the other hemisphere, everyone exclaimed. A new epoch
for Russian glory! With deep joy plainly showing in everyone's face we
felicitated each other. We were grateful to our emperor who had granted us
the means to achieve such glory, a glory which, as time goes on will achieve
immortality for Alexander J. For it is he who has made it possible for his
subjects to sail the farthest waters of the ocean.

The Neva, sailing ahead of us, reverses its course and coming alongside of
Nadezhda (our ship) congratulates us on crossing the line. The Neva sailors,
standing at the sailyards and shrouds, shout “hurrah” thrice. Our sailors,
joining them, also shout “Long live Alexander!” Already this name, so dear

82 Crossing the Line

1803, continued

and sacred to Russians, is uttered and resounds, in the air of another hemi-
sphere, under the sun at zenith, casting its rays vertically upon Russians
rather than warming them obliquely in the ice-bound countries of the North.
In order to heighten the festive mood and raise the men’s spirits, the captain,
in the name of the Emperor, presented each sailor with a Spanish piastre and
issued a double portion of vodka.

Nor did we forget the ceremonies which since time immemorial seamen had
practiced at the crossing of the equator. All the sailors bathed in the ocean
while the captain poured a little water on the heads of the noblemen
(officers?) from a bowl handed to him. Then, one wag of a sailor, oddly
accoutered, impersonated Neptune, wearing a long grey beard tied under his
chin and carrying a trident in his hand. Freedom to enjoy themselves and the
double portion of vodka allowed Neptune and his retinue to make merry
the whole day. At the dinner table, as we toasted His Imperial Majesty, the
author of our triumph, and the whole Imperial family, eleven gunshots were
fired. Then nine shots were fired to honor the Minister of Commerce as well
as the Company's Directors and all those who contributed to the success of
the Company and of this expedition.

(Zhurnal pervavo puteshestviya rossiyan vokrug zemnovo shara, sochi-
nennyi . . . Fiodorom Shemelinym. Sanktpeterburg, 1816. ch. 1, v. 1,
p. 45-47. (Journal of the first Russian voyage around the world . . . [by]
Fiodor Shemelin. )

The translation was made by Dr. Avrahm Yarmolinsky.

Adam Ivan von Krusenstern, the commander brought out his report at Saint Petersburg between
1809 and 1814, 3 volumes with a folio atlas of 104 maps and plates in the Russian original. Trans-
lations into English (London, 2 v., 1813), German (St. Petersburg, 8 v. 1810), French (Paris,
2 v., 1820) show the widespread interest in the expedition and the appreciation of its meaning.
The commander had served in the British navy between 1793 and 1799, his crossings on voyages
to America, China, India qualifying him as a “trusty shellback.”

He tells of gun salutes, toast to the Emperor, the “usual ceremony” being passed over because
he was the only shellback, though one sailor, Pavel Kurganov, “was such an accomplished actor
and speaker” that he played the part of Neptune quite fittingly.

Lisyanski tells of the church service, the first we have had for a long time. The ship was dressed,
crew on quarter-deck, toasts drunk, extra drinks and rations issued, the crew sang, officers passing
“the time in pleasant conversation.” No baptizing on the Neva. Those of us fortunate enough to
hear Russian soldiers or sailors sing can never doubt that real volume and heartiness marked this
first time south of the line.

Shemelin is sure of the immortality the memory of Alexander I will gain by this event. Whether
the crossing is engraved on the Emperor’s tombstone I can not say. The “Spanish piastre”
Shemelin tells of is the equivalent of the traditional “piece of eight,” eight York shillings, our
dollar. He dressed ship, fired salutes, issued extra rations, poured a little water on the heads of
his officers, tells too that the government expenses had been shared by a company or corporation.

Note later how von Kotzebue in 1828 justifies the celebration for its keeping up spirits on long
voyages. His words “Diversion is often the best medicine, and used as a preservative, seldom
fails of its effect,” being quoted with warm approval by Fitz Roi a few years later in his report
on the voyage of the Beagle.

The Nineteenth Century 83

The German translation of Krusenstern in the Library of the American Philosophical Society,
Philadelphia, came to the Society in July, 1828. Note the letters about it in “The American Philo-
sophical Society and Early Russian-American Relations” by Eufrosina Dvoichenko-Markov, in
the Proceedings of the Society, v. 94, no. 6, December 22, 1950. Krusenstern was elected to the
Society in April, 1824.

1808

As we were now approaching the equinoctial line, being in 12° north latitude,
the wind became lighter, and I heard a faint buzzing among the old salts
about the visit of old Neptune to his children, which I then believed was no
farce, until ocular demonstration convinced me otherwise, as will hereafter
be shown.

January 3... . We braced up our yards on the larboard tack; and as we
expected to cross the line the next night, preparations were being made for
the reception of old Neptune such as dressing two of the oldest sailors to
personate him and his wife; throwing over a tar barrel on fire; and hailing
the sea-god from on board.

All this buffoonery was performed after dark, and so managed as to be
kept a secret from the green hands.

And here I must not omit stating, that this foolery was sanctioned by the
captain and officers, very much to their mortification afterwards, as the scene
of confusion which ensued had like to have closed with a mutiny. On the
next morning, the 8th, the play began; the green hands were confined in the
forecastle, one at a time being sent up blindfolded, who was then received by
his majesty of the sea, and the operation of shaving commenced.

The lather consisted of slush mixed with the dirty water of the grindstone
tub; the razor was a piece of old iron hoop: the face being well besmeared
with this lather, the work of shaving commenced, during which his majesty
puts some interrogatories, such as, “Do you intend to become a member of
my family, and a faithful subject of my realm?” &c. When the mouth is
opened to give the answer, it is crammed full of odoriferous lather. This done,
he is well scraped with the hoop, and ducked with salt water, and then let
off to enjoy the remainder of the farce. I recollect, when they were about
to cram the delicious lather into my mouth, I struck the man who held it, and
in the bustle the bandage fell from my eyes, and I discovered the whole
trick. A scene of confusion here took place; the green hands all sided to-
gether, and determined not to submit to the operation, and the old sailors
attempting to force us to yield, a riot took place, which was not, without
much difficulty, quelled by the officers. Order being at length restored, and
the crew having returned to their duty, all was soon forgotten.

(George Little. Life on the ocean; or, twenty years at sea. Boston, 1846.
12. ed. p. 42-3.)

The earliest story by an American, so far.

84 Crossing the Line

1809

Fm not sure, Fred, that there is not that same shaving process they practise

on the line occasionally performed for us by parents and guardians at home;

and I’m not certain that the iron hoop of old Neptune is not a pleasanter

acquaintance than the hair-trigger of some indignant and fire-eating brother.
(Charles Lever. Charles O'Malley: the Irish dragoon. Chapter 96, “The
Confidence,” in the original edition; Dublin; 1841; v. 2; p. 162.)

The period is the Peninsular War, rather than 1841, the date of first publication of the novel.
In the midst of their attacks and counterattacks on the field of battle, O’Malley and Fred Power
find time for lighter if not more vital things to talk about, Power sadly turning to O’Malley for
consolation over his being turned down by the girl in Portugal he had fallen in love with. Power
says “You adventure upon love as upon a voyage to India... Happy were it for us that in our
courtship, as in our voyage, there were some certain Rubicon to remind us of the miles we have
journeyed!” Mention of the “certain Rubicon” brings forth this sage and experienced comment

by our Irish dragoon.
One more welcome note of our ceremony in fiction.

1812

On the 23d [of November, 1812], we were honoured by a visit from the gods
of the ocean, accompanied by Amphitrite and a numerous retinue of imps,
barbers, &c. &c. in his usual style of visiting, and in the course of the after-
noon all the novices of the ship’s company were initiated into his mysteries.
Neptune, however, and most of his suite, paid their devotions so frequently
to Bacchus, that before the ceremony of christening was half gone through,
their godships were unable to stand; the business was therefore entrusted
to the subordinate agents, who performed both the shaving and washing
with as little regard to tenderness as his majesty would have done. On the
whole, however, they got through the business with less disorder and more
good humour than I expected; and although some were most unmercifully
scraped, the only satisfaction sought was that of shaving others in their turn
with new invented tortures.

(David Porter. Journal of a cruise made to the Pacific Ocean by Captain
David Porter, in the United States frigate Essex, in the years 1812, 1813,
and 1814. Philadelphia, 1815. v. 1, p. 17-18.)

1814

A few days before the last storms, we crossed the tropical line. On crossing
it, the usual ceremonies were gone through with on board our schooner. I
say usual, because the practice was one which was never omitted; but
I learn that it is now not so common on board of American vessels —
and I hope that the good sense and intelligence of all masters, will lead
them to do away with the cruel and barbarous practice. It is a custom more
honored in the breach than in the observance.

As we drew near the line, a hoarse, rough voice hailed us, with the salu-
tation of ‘Schooner ahoy! What schooner’s that!’ To this our captain replied,

The Nineteenth Century 85

giving the name of the vessel, where from, where bound, and the name of
the commander. The same rough voice then commanded us to heave-to, and
he would come on board of us. The sails were then laid to the masts, and
Neptune, his wife, barber, and a numerous retinue, came up over the bows,
and passed along into the waist, where the captain stood ready to welcome
them on board. The ocean-god and the fair Amphitrite, were rigged out in
the most grotesque and fantastical manner possible. The whole was a bur-
lesque on the description of Spenser:

“First came great Neptune, with his three-forked mace
That rules the seas, and makes them rise or fall;
His dewey locks did drop with brine apace.

Under his diadem imperiall;
And by his side his queene with coronall,

Fair Amphitrite.”

The imperial diadem was made of duck, covered with oakum; the three-
forked mace was a fish spear; his majesty’s robe of state was a red baize shirt,
and on his shoulders were a massive pair of epaulettes, made of tarred oakum.
The fair Amphitrite was a strapping great sailor, rigged out in the queerest
toggery in which female grace and loveliness were ever burlesqued. The
landsmen were all placed in the waist; and his majesty, with a nice dis-
crimination, remembered the faces of all who had ever been welcomed
into his realm. But the old god was for once in his life at fault. It will be
perceived that I had crossed the tropic and also the equator before; but my
first captain was a man of too much good taste, and gentlemanly feelings,
to permit old Neptune to come on board his ship. I had heard the ceremony
of shaving so often described by sailors, that I was au fait to the thing; and
my answers to the queries that had been propounded to me for several days
before we reached the tropic, were very satisfactory. I had secured the
silence of an old weather-beaten and rum-loving tar, who was with me in
the ship, by giving him, during the whole cruise, my allowance of grog. I
passed, therefore, for an affiliated and matriculated one.

The candidates having been selected, the process of shaving was now to
commence. Our boat was placed on deck, half-filled with water, and a plank
placed across it, but in a ticklish manner. The candidate being blindfolded,
was conducted to, and made to seat himself on the plank, when several ques-
tions were propounded to him, which, if he was indiscreet enough to answer,
as soon as his mouth was open, a brush, filled with tar, blacking, slush, and
all manner of filth, was thrust in. After they had worried their poor victim
for some time in this manner, they proceeded to lather him, by smearing
his face all over with the same detestable compound; and he was then
scraped with a piece of iron hoop, notched to make it more effective, until
his face was lacerated to such a degree that the blood oozing out, mingling

86 Crossing the Line

1814, continued

with the tar and filth, gave the poor ill-used landsman a most deplorable
appearance. To conclude the ceremony, one end of the plank was slipped
away, and he received two or three severe duckings in the not over cleanly
water.

Those who betrayed any signs of resistance or indignation, fared the
worst — while those who took the thing quietly, and passed it off as a good
joke, got off with a light penalty. One of our young landsmen, with a regard
to the economy of his dress, which he rightly enough anticipated would not
be very sacred against the lathering of the rough barber, had stripped him-
self to his trowsers; but while he preserved his shirt and jacket clean, his
raw hide had to suffer; for he was lathered and shaved from his head down to
his waist; and it was many days, by the application of grease, and soap and
water, assisted by a stiff scrubbing brush, before he got his body again in a
decent plight. No one, save myself, who had not before been shaved, es-
caped — but some who were so liberal as to bribe high with grog, got off
with little annoyance.

Our little craft, for a while, presented the picture of a Pandemonium, in
which the demons were holding a Saturnalia; and it was not until the next
day, that the actors in this rude ceremony were sober enough to do their duty.

After all had been thus roughly welcomed, and Neptune and his retinue
had spliced the main-brace with all the grog they could get, they retired
the same way they came — the royal Amphitrite as unamiably drunk, as
was her loving spouse, They wished us a successful and happy cruise —
and we kept on our way.

(Benjamin Frederick Browne. The yarn of a Yankee privateer. Edited
by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Introduction by Clifford Smyth. New York:
Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1926. pages 60-64.)

1815

On the 23rd [of November, 1815], at eight o'clock in the evening, we crossed
the line, in longitude 26° 26”. I had determined to keep this day as a holiday,
for which purpose preparations were made in the morning; towards even-
ing, when the ship was washed, and every thing put into order, it was
brilliantly illuminated, the officers and crew being in their best clothes, the
passing from one hemisphere into the other was expected in profound and
solemn silence; at the stroke of eight the flag was hoisted, and we saluted
the southern hemisphere with eight guns, and drank to each other in our
best wine; the sailors had excellent punch. Upon this Neptune appeared,
and bid us welcome to the south: he baptized every one that had not passed
the line before, and I was the only one that had not to undergo that cere-
mony. The rejoicing was general, and continued the whole evening and part

The Nineteenth Century 87

of the night. Half a degree more to the north, and under the equator itself,
we found the current N.W. 86° 47 miles in twenty-four hours.

(Otto von Kotzebue. A voyage of discovery into the South Sea and
Beering’s Straits . . . undertaken in the years 1815-1818, in the Ship
Rurick. London, 1821. v. 1, p. 110-111.)

The preparations for the ceremony were unusual. How lucky Kotzebue was with weather
good enough to let the ship be “brilliantly illuminated” and the whole crew be “in their best
clothes.” Did they take the baptism in those “best clothes” by a token drop of water on their
heads, or thus clad be ducked, or have time to change?

Later crossings by Kotzebue are noted under 1818 and 1823.

[September] 23d — 25th. The west wind still continued, to our great astonish-
ment; it was a sort of phenomenon in these regions, and had hitherto been
very much in our favour. But with regard to phenomena, chance produced
one of a much more extraordinary kind on the 23d, when we crossed the
Line in 0° latitude, 0° longitude, and 0° declination. This is a circumstance
which chance alone may perhaps renew only once in a century, since it is
necessary to arrive precisely at the first meridian about noon, in order to
pass the Line at that same hour, or to arrive there at the same time with
the sun.

This was a day of great merriment and disorder among the crew: it was
the ceremony which the English sailors call the Christening. The sailors
dress themselves up in the most grotesque way; one is disguised as Neptune
and all persons on board the ship who have not previously crossed the Line,
are formally presented to him; an immense razor is passed over their chins,
with a lather made of pitch; buckets of water are thrown over them, and
the loud bursts of laughter which accompany their retreat, complete their
initiation into the grand mystery. No one is spared; and the officers are
generally more roughly used than the lowest of the sailors. The Admiral,
who had previously amused himself by endeavouring to alarm us with the
anticipation of this awful ceremony, now very courteously exempted us from
the inconvenience and ridicule attending it. We were with every mark of
attention and respect presented to the rude god, who paid to each of us a
compliment after his own fashion; and thus our trial ended.

The Emperor was scrupulously respected during the whole of this satur-
nalian festivity, when respect is usually shewn to no one. On being informed
of the decorum which had been observed with respect to him, be ordered
a hundred Napoleons to be distributed to the grotesque Neptune and his
crew, which the Admiral opposed, perhaps from motives of prudence as well
as politeness.

(Emmanuel Augustin Dieudonné Las Cases, Comte. Memorial de Sainte
Hélène. Journal of the private life and conversations of the Emperor
Napoleon at Saint Helena. London, 1823. v. 1, p. 189-190.)

Three months before the 23rd of September the divinity that “doth hedge a king” would have
left no doubt as to how the Emperor of France was to be treated when his ship crossed the line.

88 Crossing the Line

1815, continued

This time he, the Emperor to Las Cases, was still hedged about with “divinity” to the ship’s
crew, enough at least to need special mention as to his escaping Neptune’s attention.

Las Cases was sent away from Saint Helena in 1817, crossed the line from south to north on
the 20th of September “almost at the same time as the sun, which was going down towards the
south on our larboard tack,” but the crossing gets no more notice than that these few words.

The French and English texts of the Mémorial were brought out in London at the same time.
The variations are slight, but perhaps have enough difference to call for printing the French below:

x

23-25 [September]. Le vent d'Ouest continuait toujours, à notre grand
étonnement; c'était une espèce de phénomène dans ces parages: il nous
avait très favorisés jusque-là. Mais, en fait de phénomènes, le hasard en
combina un bien plus extraordinaire encore le 23. Ce jour-là nous traversames
la Ligne par zéro de latitude, zéro de longitude, et zéro de déclinaison;
circonsstance que le seul hasard ne renouvellera peutétre pas dans un siècle,
puisqu'il faut arriver précisément au premier méridien vers midi, pour passer
la Ligne à cette même heure, et y arriver en même temps que le soleil.

Ce fut un jour de grosse joie et de grand désordre dans tout l'équipage:
c était la cérémonie que nos marins appellent le baptème, et que les Anglais
nomment le jour de grande barbe. Les matelots, dans Tappareil le plus
burlesque, conduisent en cérémonie, aux pieds de l’un d'eux, transformé en
Neptune, tous ceux qui n'ont point encore traversé la Ligne; là un immense
rasoir vous parcourt la barbe, préparée avec du goudron; des seaux d’eau
dont on vous inonde aussitôt de toutes parts, les gros éclats de rire dont
l'équipage accompagne votre fuite, complètent l'initiation des grands
mystères; personne n’est épargné; les officiers même sont, en quelque façon,
plus maltraités en cette circonstance que les derniers des matelots. Nous
seuls, par une grâce parfaite de l'Amiral, qui jusque-là s'était plu à nous
effrayer de cette terrible cérémonie, échappames à ses inconvéniens et à ses
ridicules; nous fûmes conduits, avec toutes sortes d’attentions et de respects,
aux pieds du dieu grossier, dont chacun de nous reçut un compliment à sa
façon: là se bornèrent toutes nos épreuves.

L'Empereur fut scrupuleusement respecté pendant toute cette Saturnale,
qui d'ordinaire ne respecte jamais rien. Ayant appris l'usage, et le ménage-
ment dont on usait à son égard, il ordonna qu'on distribuât 100 Napoléons
au grotesque Neptune et à sa bande, ce à quoi l’'Amiral s’opposa, autant par
prudence peut-être que par politesse.

(E. A. D. Las Cases, Comte. Mémorial de Sainte-Hélène. Journal de la
vie privée et des conversations de l'Empereur Napoléon. Londres, 1823.
v. 1, pt. 1, p. 202-204.)

1816

Quand il s’agit du baptême d’un vaisseau, sur les ordres du bonhomme
Tropique, les charpentiers armés de leurs haches, &c. se portent à la pou-

The Nineteenth Century 89

laine et menacent de la démolir, si le capitaine ne le rachète, menace prévue
et que l’on a soin de détourner par un copieux pour-boire.

(Annales maritimes et coloniales, 1816, 2° part, p. 84. Reprinted with minor
variations in: Mélusine, v. 2 (1884-5), column 279.)

This might perhaps be taken as quite possibly part of the ceremony for the launching of the
ship were it not for the entry below under 1855.

1816 — 1819

Baptême sous la Ligne. Le vaisseau l’Achille, partit de Brest, ayant ordre de
porter un consul à Madagascar. C'était en... Je ne me rappelle pas l'époque;
mais la date est assez indifférente ici.

Le consul avait avec lui sa femme, ses filles et une domestique. Quelques
autres passagers étaient aussi sur le bâtiment: un officier général qui allait à
Bourbon; un vieux professeur qu'on devait débarquer à Batavia; enfin une
respectable sœur hospitalière de Saint-Thomas de Villeneuve, qui se rendait
à Madras, pour recueillir un héritage dont les fruits devaient revenir aux
pauvres: la sainte fille l'avait l'avait déclaré sans affectation et on pouvait
la croire. ...

Le professeur était un assez étrange personnage. Il allait à Batavia en-
seigner, disait-il, la langue française; mais, en réalité, il était maitre à danser
... On le remarquait en effet pour en rire, et il ne s’en apercevait pas. Il était
devenu la fable des matelots et surtout des jeunes dames que cette carica-
ture d'un autre temps divertissait fort... Un trait manquerait à cette portrai-
ture fidèle, si joublais d’ajouter que M. Chaupin était gascon, de Pézenas.

Je mai rien a dire du général que le vaisseau menait à Bourbon. C'était
un homme comme tout le monde; ni gras ni maigre, ni vieux ni jeune, ni
beau ni laid; parlant peu, mangeant beaucoup, fumant pour donner à croire
qu'il avait fait la guerre, jouant à l’écarté comme un fou, se fächant tout rouge
quand on prononçait devant lui le nom de Bonaparte; car il était émigré,
rentré en 1815...

Le consul était un brave et honnête homme, digne du poste qu’on venait
de lui confier . . . Sa femme, encore fraiche, grasse moute, comme en dit en
Basse-Bretagne, alerte, avenante, plaisait beaucoup à M. Chaupin qui lui
faisait une cour assidue; comédie très-amusante pour l'état-major et le consul,
qui s'y prétait de bonne grâce, en jouant la jalousie, de manière à rendre le
professeur tres-fier. Les filles du consul, jolies, bien élevées, parlaient plu-
sieurs langues, dessinaient agréablement; elles étaient les objets de l’atten-
tion de tous les officiers du vaisseau . . . Rose et Eugénie surent être adorables
et se faire respecter.

Quant à Françoise, paysanne des environs de Rouen, au service de la
famille du consul, un jeune élève la trouva fort gentille, et, sous prétexte
quelle était sa compatriote, il abaissa jusqu'à elle Forgueil de Yaiguillette
dor...

90 Crossing the Line
1816-1819, continued

Ce n’est pas seulement par manie d'artiste que j'ai esquissé les portraits
qu'on vient de voir; j'ai fait pour vous ce que les matelots avaient fait pour
eux. Ils s'étaient appliqués à étudier, pendant les premiers jours du voyage,
tous leurs passagers, parce qu'on devait changer d’hemisphere et que le mo-
ment arrivait où chacun de ses personnages étrangers à la marine serait acteur
forcé dans la farce du baptême de la ligne. Un homme surtout s'était mis
en observation pour bien connaitre les néophytes qu'on devait initier au
culte de Neptune; bientôt il les sut par cœur en causant avec les domestiques
du général et du consul; et c’est en quelques traits vifs, saillans, grotesque-
ment caractéristiques qu'il les peignit aux matelots, arrangeurs futurs de la
comédie bouffonne dont la représentation allait avoir lieu à bord de l’Achille.
Cet homme était un jeune novice de la timonnerie, garçon de vingt ans, d’une
famille respectable qu'il était au moment de déshonorer quand on l’'embarqua
pour le dépayser et rompre ses habitudes. Marin par contrainte, son caractère
avait fini par fléchir sous la discipline (car il etait à sa troisième campagne),
et il ne restait plus guère à l’ancien mauvais sujet qu'une grande liberté
d'esprit, un dévergondage de paroles assez gaies et une passion prononcée
pour la charge. Au sortir du collége, il avait fréquenté les ateliers de peinture
de la capitale et il s'était étudié la à ces plaisanteries dont les artistes ont
Yadmirable instinct; aussi était-il, à bord, le centre autour duquel on se réunis-
sait avec délices. Heureux le quart dont il faisait partiel Il était conteur, chan-
sonnier; on lui avait donné le nom d'Arthur le Farceur, et chacun bénissait
la mère qui l'avait si bien gâté qu'à la fin son père avait été obligé de prier
le ministre de donner au jeune fou un vaisseau pour maison de correction.

Dans la distribution que les matelots se firent des rôles pour le baptême,
dont le moment approchait; — car c'était le lendemain, vers dix heures du
matin, qu'on devait passer de l'hémisphère nord dans l’autre, — Arthur ne
fut pas oublié. Un contre-maître lui dit:

— Ah ça, farceur, nous comptons sur toi pour la lettre du bonhomme La
Ligne. Tu es-t-un savant; t’as-t-étudié-z-a Paris; tu ne peux pas manquer
de nous faire queuque chose de bien.

Arthur voulut refuser par modestie Phonorable emploi d’interprète du dieu
poli de l'équateur; le contre-maitre lui signifia positivement que ce serait
manquer d’egards à tout l'équipage que de ne pas se rendre à son desir.

— Tas la plume en main comme un officier, et de l'esprit comme un ci-
devant garde-marine; — c'était des fameux plaisans que les garde-marinel
— Técriras donc la lettre, et puis demain tu feras le diable ou le prétre, a
ton choix.

Le timonnier obéit. Il se décida pour le personnage du diable, et il alla
écrire la lettre, qui devait être portée le soir au commandant du vaisseau;
pendant ce temps-là chacun prépara son costume pour la fête.

Les cuisiniers de l'état-major et du capitaine faisaient, depuis le matin,
les galettes et les autres pâtisseries qu'on offre avant ’ondoiement aux cathé-

The Nineteenth Century 91

cumenes; ils apprétaient les viandes qui devaient être mangeés en pâtés ou en
longs ragoûts, après la cérémonie. Un mouton avait été haché avec de gros
quartiers de lard et de bœuf salé; c'était de quoi remplir une quarantaine de
vastes puits, faits d’une certaine pâte grossière qui ne ressemblait pas mal
à celle dont les paysans français et les bourgeois espagnols se régalent les
jours de solennité domestique.

Tout était mouvement à bord de l’Achille; le gaillard d’arriere lui-même
avait perdu sa gravité officielle; on y préludait aux jeux bruyans du lendemain
par de gaies mystifications dont M. Chaupin était la victime, comme on
peut croire.

Sur le bord de la dunette, Arthur, qui venait d'achever sa lettre, avait l'œil
dans une lunette attachée a un point fixe du ceil. De temps a autre, il se disait à
lui-même:

— Je la vois; c'est bien elle; la voila; nous en sommes encore loin, mais
demain matin nous passerons dessous.

Vous savez ce plaisant qui s’arrêta un jour sur une place publique de Paris
et se mit à regarder les nuages en se parlant et en gesticulant, comme un
homme qui soutient une thèse imaginaire; un individu s’approcha de lui,
Yexaminant et portant ses regards dans la direction où il voyait ceux de cet
homme; puis vint un second, puis un troisième; enfin, après un quart d'heure,
la foule était autour de lui. La meme chôse arriva à Arthur; au bout d'un
moment, tous les passagers l’entouraient.

— Qu observez-vous donc avec tant d'attention? lui demanda le général.

— Mon général, répondit le timonnier, c’est la ligne équatoriale que je
vois un peu au-dessus de l'horizon.

— En vérité! Ah! parbleu je serais bien aise de voir cette ligne dont jai
tant entendu parler!

— Cest trés-facile, général; tenez, mettez-vous bien 4 ma place. Bon
... fermez l’œil gauche et approchez le droit du verre de la longue-vue que
je vais tenir moi-même, afin qu'elle soit dans la position convenable.

— Ah! mais c'est étonnant, messieurs! Ce jeune homme a raison; voilà
la ligne; je la vois très-clairement .… . elle est noire, et à en juger par la distance,
elle doit avoir la largeur de mon grand cordon de Saint-Louis.

M. Chaupin se tirait les yeux à chercher; il avait beau se faire un abat-jour
de sa main gauche, un corps de lorgnette de sa main droite, il ne découvrait
rien.

— Après vous, s’il vous plait, monsieur le comte; j'ai oui raconter beaucoup
de choses sur la barre équinoxiale dans les gazettes et les romans; je suis
curieux de savoir si les auteurs n’ont pas menti; ils mentent si souvent les
auteurs!

Le général se retira et le professeur se mit au petit bout de la lunette. La
ligne, ou plutot la barre, comme il appelait par l'heureux emploi d’un syno-
nyme naïf, lui apparut tout comme au noble comte.

92 Crossing the Line

1816-1819, continued

— Je la vois aussi distinctement que je vois les grosses échelles des mâts du
vaisseau; mais elle ne me semble pas noire comme au général; elle me fait
l'effet d’une espèce d’arc-en-ciel plus conséquent que celui des temps de pluie.

— Elle est noire, dit avec autorité le général.

— Elle est de cent couleurs, reprit le danseur.

Mademoiselle Eugénie, qui ne pouvait être trompée par une si grossière
invention, prit la longue-vue et dit à M. Chaupin:

— J'en suis fâchée pour vous, monsieur; mais le général a raison, la ligne
est noire; voyez plutôt.

Et elle retourna la lunette, sur l'objectif de laquelle Arthur avait placé
un fil noir tenu par ses deux extrémités au cercle de cuivre, à l'aide de petites
gouttes de cire.

Pendant que le général et le maître à danser s’assuraient de la tromperie,
le timonnier s’echappait par le second escalier de la dunette pour éviter la
colère de ses victimes; le général se facha tout de bon.

— Quelle insolence! cria-t-il. Un matelot se permettre des plaisanteries de
la sorte avec un lieutenant-général des armées du roil

— C'est une horreur! Prendre pour jouet un homme comme vous! Car la
mystification était dirigée contre vous particulièrement, ajouta M. Chaupin.

— Il me semble, monsieur le professeur, que vous en avez été dupe aussi.

— Oh! dupe si vous voulez; dupe sans l'être. A vrai dire, je n'ai rien vu du
tout; mais c’est pour ne pas vous désobliger que j'ai dit que je voyais quelque
chose.

— Franchement, dit en riant Mlle. Eugénie, ces messieurs ont été égale-
ment trompés. C'est bien mal de la part de M. Arthur de s'être moqué d'un
officier général et d'un professeur aussi distingué.

— Certes, c’est bien mal, et je prierai le commandant de le faire jeter dans
un cul de basse-fosse ou aux fers, comme on dit ici.

— Aux fers pour une plaisanterie, général!

— Et la veille du jour où lon passe la ligne, reprit un aspirant qui était
pour quelque chose dans l’idée mise à exécution par le timonnier. Vous
savez que ces vingt-quatre heures sont accordées à l'équipage pour la satur-
nale.

— Et d’ailleurs, reprit avec malice Mlle. Eugenie, comment ce matelot
pouvait-il supposer que ces messieurs se laisseraient prendre a une espieglerie
dont La Fontaine a donne le secret dans sa fable d’Un animal dans la Lune?
Le fil noir de M. Arthur, c’est le rat du fabuliste.

Le général descendit fort mécontent, suivi de M. Chaupin, pour aller
porter plainte au commandant du vaisseau. Le capitaine arrivait sur le pont
en même temps qu'eux, attiré par la discussion qu'il avait entendue, et
empressé de la faire cesser.

— Commandant, dit le professeur, nous avons à nous plaindre .

The Nineteenth Century 93

Le claquement d’un fouet qui se faisait entendre au sommet du grand mât
vint couper la parole à M. Chaupin.

— Ah! voila le courrier qui nous arrive.

— Le courrier, commandant, reprit le général; est-ce qu’il nous apporte
des nouvelles de la cour?

Tous les passagers et les officiers qui se trouvaient sur le pont ne purent
s'empêcher de rire à cette étrange question; le maitre à danser lui-même
comprit ce qu'il y avait de naïf dans cette supposition de l’arrivée par mer, à
cheval, d’une estafette ou du courrier de la malle.

— Celle-ci est un peu forte, dit-il à l'oreille du général; comment voudriez-
vous que le commandant punit un matelot qui s’est moqué d’un homme qui
demande de pareilles choses. Parole d'honneur, c’est pain bénit que des
mystifications si bien placées!

— Monsieur, vous m'insultez, je crois, dit le général au danseur; c'est
probablement parce que vous sentez que, gentilhomme et lieutenant-général
des armées du roi, je ne puis pas vous demander raison .. . |

Le capitaine de l’Achille s’interposa bien vite entre les deux vieillards qui
faisaient la plus drôle de figure en se regardant. Chaupin se redressait; le
général soulevait d’un air méprisant les coins de sa bouche, en tournant avec
affectation dans ses doigts la croix de Saint-Louis, qui pendait à sa boutonnière
à l’extrémité d’un long ruban.

— Messieurs, dit le commandant, pas de querelle à bord, je vous supplie.

— Mais, monsieur! . . . repondit le général, dois-je me laisser malmener par
un routurier qui fait des pirouettes?

— C'est bien, monsieur le général! répartit le danseur; j'écrirai au ministre,
qui est presque mon beau-frère, et vous aurez de ses nouvelles.

— Par grâce, messieurs, laissez cela.

— C’est que...

— Si cela continuait, je serais forcé de vous ordonner les arrêts dans vos
chambres.

— Un colonel, les arrêts à un lieutenant-général!

— Un colonel, les arrêts à l’oncle d’un ministre!

— Oui, messieurs. Ce colonel est maitre à bord; ainsi...

Un homme arriva sur le gaillard d’arriére.

— Commandant, on voit venir là-bas un courrier extraordinaire.

Extraordinaire, en effet. Et le matelot qui avait annoncé se mit à rire en
regardant le postillon grotesque que le jeu de mots caractérisait convenable-
ment. Tout le monde se retourna pour voir arriver l’émissaire du Bonhomme
La Ligne; car c'etait la qualité de ce personnage qui descendait en courant
le long du grand étai, comme un funambule descend sur la partie oblique
de sa corde, qui va du chevalet au parterre du théâtre. Il était parti de la
grand hune, où l’on avait entendu tout-à-lheure son fouet claquer, ainsi que,
dans un vent fort, les gabiers entendent bruire et siffler à la tête du mât de
perroquet la flamme du vaisseau. Son costume était étrange; sur sa veste

94 Crossing the Line
1816-1819, continued

bleue étaient cousus des morceaux d'étamine rouge transformant le collet
et les paremens, pour donner au vêtement du bord Fair de l'uniforme des
postes royales; des bandes de toile blanche, empruntées à un vieux pavillon,
en galonnaient les poches et les retroussis; de larges bottes de carton, éperon-
nées avec deux grands clous que le maître charpentier avait prêtés, embar-
rassaient les jambes du porte-nouvelles; son chapeau ciré, où s’etalait une
large cocarde de papier, recouvrait une perruque d’etoupe artistement com-
posée, d’où pendait par derrière une énorme queue flanquée de tresses à
la hussarde; — c’est le boulanger qui l'avait coiffée, et il n’avait pas épargné
la poudre; — d’épaisses moustaches, faites d’un morceau de corde détordue,
couvraient la moitié de la figure du courrier, et il aurait fallu être bien habile
pour reconnaître la le visage un peu féminin d'Arthur. C'était lui cependant.
Il arriva en caracolant sur le bastingage et en agitant son fouet, dont la mèche
aiguë manqua d’eborgner M. Chaupin, le plus mal chanceux des passagers
qu ait jamais portés navire; car soit hasard, soit dessein prémédité, aucun
matelot ne faisait une gaucherie à bord qu’elle ne trouvät pour victime le
futur professeur de Batavia. Quand Arthur fut descendu sur le pont, et cela
d’un saut qui le porta, comme par malheur, sur un des pieds de notre pauvre
danseur, il remit poliment au capitaine de vaisseau un paquet que le com-
mandant décacheta tout de suite. Le postillon se mit à fumer pendant la
lecture qui fut faite de la lettre du Bonhomme La Ligne, dont je ne rap-
porterai que le préambule:

“Par 0° de latitude, en mon palais de la ligne, moi, le roi de l'équateur, au
commandant du vaisseau qui arrive, salut et protection...”

Le rest de cette missive etait plus bouffon que comique. Le capitaine de
[Achille qui, tout de suite, l’avait parcourue des yeux, ne crut pas devoir en
donner lecture aux dames; je dois imiter sa réserve. Arthur s était compléte-
ment trompé et ce fut un effet perdu. Cet incident lui fit quelque tort dans
l'esprit de ses admirateurs.

— Eh bien! monsieur le commandant, dit le postillon, que dois-je annoncer
au roi mon maître?

— Que je me conformerai avec plaisir aux usages, et que demain j'aurai
honneur de recevoir S. M. le bonhomme La Ligne si elle daigne nous
visiter.

Le postillon se retira après avoir fait au grand galop le tour du gaillard
d’arriere, se contorsionnant de la manière la plus bizarre; il fut applaudi par
tout l'équipage grimpé dans les haubans, sur la drôme et dans les embarca-
tions, pour assister à ce prologue du spectacle qui devait être donné le
lendemain.

Le moment de la fête se fit bien attendre! La nuit parut longue aux mate-
lots impatiens de jouir enfin de cette liberté d’un jour que leur assure le
passage de la ligne. Il était déjà dix heures, et tout roulait à bord de l’Achille
comme à l'ordinaire; quelques hommes seulement n’avaient pas paru sur le

The Nineteenth Century 95

pont, et l'on avait hâte de les y voir, parce qu'ils étaient les acteurs de la farce.
Cependant un bruit sec et léger, comme celui du grésil qui frappe en hiver
contre les vitres de votre chambre, attira l’attention des promeneurs, et l'on
entendit un ah! de contentement, parti de deux cent bouches à la fois sur
le vaisseau, semblable à exclamation qui part de tous les points d’une salle
à la fin du long entr’acte par lequel l'intérêt du drame a été coupé. Une averse
de pois, de lentilles et de haricots tombait des hunes. — Jupiter se fait
annoncer chez Danaé par une pluie d’or; ’Apollon classique fait répandre
sur la terre par la jeune Aurore des roses fraîches épanouies; le dieu de
l'équateur donne pour dragées de joyeux avénement tout ce qu'il a, haricots,
pois et lentilles; car il n’a ni fleurs ni or, le Bonhomme La Lignel Et il en
aurait qu'il n’en donnerait pas, parce qu'il ne cherche ni à séduire ni à flatter.
Ce n’est point une largesse qu'il veut faire, mais un avertissement qu'il pré-
tend donner; ses légumes secs, il les jette comme pour dire au marin: “Tu
auras beau changer d’hemisphere, ta cuisine ne changera pas; ton avenir
au sud est comme ton passé au nord; des fayots, toujours des fayots! absti-
nence, privation, pois et gourganes.”

Les pois tombaient, ricochaient sur le pont, roulaient sous les pieds des offi-
ciers et des passagers. — M. Chaupin faillit tomber vingt fois! — Une voix
grave et forte parvint des hauteurs du petit mât de hune, grossie par un grand
porte-voix de combat:

— Oh! du vaisseau!

Le chef de timonerie répondit. — Hola!

— D'où venez-vous?

— De Brest.

— Où allez-vous?

— À Madagascar.

— Comment vous nommez-vous?

— L’Achille, capitaine Prior.

— Je connais le capitaine; il a déjà traversé mes états; mais c’est la pre-
mière fois que je vois le vaisseau, et je serais bien aise de le visiter. Voulez-
vous me permettre de descendre à votre bord avec la reine mon épouse, mon
fils et toute ma cour?

— C’est trop d'honneur que vous voulez nous faire; nous serons charmés
de votre visite, et nous ferons tout notre possible pour vous bien recevoir.

— A la bonne heure!

Le dialogue d'introduction finit là, et des pois tombèrent encore sur le
gaillard.

— Voila de drôles d’usages, dit le général: cela est trés-ridicule. Si c’est
une moquerie de la royauté, comme je le suppose, je ne le souffrirai pas. Ce
n'est pas en présence d’un lieutenant-général des armées du roi qu’une chose
semblable pourrait avoir lieu impunément!

96 Crossing the Line
1816-1819, continued
— Mon général, répondit le commandant Prior, n’ayez pas d’inquietudes;
tout se passera convenablement. Il s’agit ici d’une vieille tradition à laquelle
nous ne saurions toucher; le respect dû à la monarchie n’a rien à en redouter.
La bonne sœur Marie qui était montée sur le pont avec tous les autres
passagers, et qui se trouvait à côté du capitaine, le tira modestement par le
bras, et, lui montrant le coin du gaillard d’arriere à babord, lui dit à
demi-voix:

— Et le respect dû à la religion, capitaine!

M. Prior sourit et s'empressa de rassurer l'hospitalière de Saint-Thomas
qu'il trouva aussi émue que le général, mais non pas de cette émotion affectée
à laquelle le vieux courtisan se laissait aller chaleureusement, comme s’il y
avait eu sur le vaisseau quelqu'un qui put aller, un moment après, aux Tui-
leries témoigner de sa sollicitude monarchique.

Ce qui avait affligé les regards de la religieuse excitait vivement, depuis le
matin, la curiosité des marins et des passagers; c était une chapelle. La timon-
nerie avait mis tous ses soins à la décorer avec goût. Des pavillons de diverses
couleurs en formaient l'enceinte. Une grande table, sur laquelle étaient
placées quelques caisses, recouverte comme elle d’un pavillon blanc, faisait
l'autel. Tout ce qu'on avait trouvé de chandeliers chez le capitaine et les
officiers du vaisseau, y figurait en pyramide et sur plusieurs rangs; chandelles
et bougies brülaient en grand nombre, comme les lampes au saint tombeau
de Jérusalem; un crucifix ingénieusement fait avec deux cabillots en croix
sur lesquels etait étendue une figure de pâte cuite au four, assez burlesque-
ment modelée, dominait tout cet édifice. Des tableaux ornaient l’intérieur
de ce petit temple; non pas tableaux d'église, car excepté une grossière image
de sainte Barbe qui appartenait au second maître canonnier, vieux Breton
qui jurait toujours par le nom de la patrone des artilleurs, il n’y avait à bord
que des gravures peu édifiantes; mais quimportait? Quelqu'un avait bien
fait observer au décorateur qu'il n’était pas bien décent de mettre dans une
chapelle catholique Pdris et Hélène, Mars et Venus, Psyche, et l'histoire
amoureuse de Louis XIV; Arthur avait levé tous les scrupules: “Jai vu, au
mois de juin dernier, pendant mon congé a Paris, la famile royale proces-
sionner pour la Fête-Dieu, de Saint-Germain-lAuxerrois aux Tuileries, entre
deux haies de tapisseries ou étaient représentées Didon, Calypso et un tas
d’autres farceuses du temps; ça n’etonnait personne. Il faudrait être bien
ambitieux pour vouloir être plus dévot que le grand amiral; et quand le grand
amiral ne se scandalise pas, je voudrais bien savoir quel marin aurait la pré-
tention de se scandaliser.” A la porte de la chapelle était un large baquet
rempli d’eau, traversé par une planche, et recouvert d’une nappe.

Le clergé avait commencé l'office pour la bénédiction des pâtisseries qu'on
devait distribuer aux personnes considérables du bord. Un prêtre et deux
acolytes étaient à l'autel, tous trois affublés de chemises blanches passées

The Nineteenth Century 97

par-dessus leurs vêtemens, tous trois coiffés de bonnets pointus en papier
que la suie de la chaudière du coq avait noirci. Ils psalmodiaient une espèce
de latin macaronique d’où ne ressortaient clairement que certains jurons qui
faisait rougir et trembler sœur Marie.

Le cortége du Bonhomme La Ligne fut annoncé alors par des claquemens
de fouets, des chants, des cris poussés dans des porte-voix et descendant du
haut de la mature. On vit partir dans ce moment de la grand’hume le roi de
l'équateur, suivi de sa femme, de son fils et d’une cour nombreuse; ils arri-
vèrent au gaillard d'avant par la voie oblique du grand étai. Un char, et
quelques autres acteurs les attendaient là. Bientôt on entendit rouler le car-
rosse de leurs majestés équatoriales, et des bravos, des vivat partis des
haubans signalèrent son approche aux spectateurs de l'arrière.

Quatre gendarmes, précédés d’un officier de gendarmerie, ouvraient la
marche. Neptune venait ensuite. Ce Neptune était un homme grand, gros,
fort, musculeux, nu de la tête aux pieds, ceint au-dessous des hanches d’une
large étamine bleue, le menton garni d’une épaisse barbe d’etoupe, la tête
couronnée de deux épineux squelettes de poissons. Le croc à trois branches
du maitre-cog, qu'il portait gravement à la main, représentait le trident du
dieu des eaux. Ce matelot, à la poitrine et aux bras tatoués de cœurs en-
flammes, d’ancres, d’aigles, de fleurs-de-lis et d’autres emblémes, était d’une
incroyable gravité; il marchait au pas ordinaire, le poing sur le côté, comme
un sapeur à la parade, un suisse de cathédrale à la promenade des rogations,
ou un de ces grotesques sauvages qui précèdent notre boeuf gras.

Une espèce de diable, qui avait la prétention de représenter Pluton,
voltigeait, avec quelques diablotins, autour de Neptune, et oubliant une
antique fraternité pour ne se rappeler peut-être que l'antipathie du feu et de
l'eau, le harcelait avec une petite gaffe, au risque de recevoir quelques coups
du trident que vous savez. Le costume du diable et de ses suivans était
hideux; les matelots et les mousses qui jouaient les rôles infernaux s étaient
enduit le corps d’une couche de goudron, puis s'étaient roulés dans des
plumes de poules et de canards, conservées soigneusement pour ce grand
jour, depuis le moment du départ, par les cuisiniers du vaisseau. Des chaînes,
traînées et agitées par les diables, auraient suffi à les faire reconnaître pour
de méchans esprits; mais de peur qu’on ne sy trompât, de grandes cornes
ornaient le front de ces acteurs emplumés qui pensaient être tout-à-fait dans
l'esprit de leurs personnages, en allant tourmenter les prêtres à la chapelle,
et en proférant des juremens continuels.

Après ces figures empruntées à ’Olympe classique et à l'enfer chrétien,
marchait un homme déguisé en meunier; il jetait des poignées de farine aux
curieux que ses plaisanteries d’ivrogne attiraient auprès de lui, et fumait son
brüle-gueule en faisant des mines bouffonnes qui amusaient beaucoup l’équi-
page. Quel symbole parodiait ce farinier? Personne ne le devina. Etait-ce le
père nourricier du jeune enfant que portait dans ses bras l'epouse du bon-
homme La Ligne? Etait-ce la caricature de Cybèle? Mais que serait venue

98 Crossing the Line
1816-1819, continued

faire là Cybèle? Pourriez-vous dire ce qu'y faisaient les gendarmes à à côté
de Neptune, le meunier à côté du diable, le diable à côté de prêtres catho-
liques? Si quelque chose doit étonner, c'est que dans la mascarade il n’y
eût ni Ture, ni paillasse; — car il n’est guère de mascarade sans paillasse
et sans Turc! — Il n’y en avait point. En effet, derrière le meunier arrivait
immédiatement un char portant la glorieuse famille du souverain de l'empire
équatorial. Le char était composé d’un affit de 12 sur ses roues; deux chevaux
le trainaient, et ces chevaux, c’etaient des matelots cachés sous des cou-
vertures, marchant à quatre pieds à l’aide de petits bâtons qui égalisaient les
bras avec les jambes; d’informes têtes de chevaux en carton ou en papier leur
servaient de masques.

Mais voici le bonhomme La Lignel L’attention des spectateurs redouble.
Le vieux monarque qui régne sur le ciel et la mer, de l’un à l’autre tropique,
est courbé, voûté, cassé, chenu. C’est un calier have, maigre, âgé d’au moins
soixante ans, qui porte le sceptre de l'équateur; un rideau de cotonnade
bleue qu'on a emprunté au poste des chirurgiens se drape sur sa peau ridée;
sa longue perruque et sa barbe, qui ne ressemblent pas mal à un faubert usé,
sont poudrés à blanc; il a au dos des ailes, comme le temps; par décence, il
porte un pantalon de toile qui n’est pas trop sale, bien que déjà le vieillard
l'ait mis plus d’une fois dans sa cale, d’où il n'était pas sorti encore depuis
que l’Achille a quitté Brest, et où il redescendra après la cérémonie pour
ne la plus abandonner jusqu’à la première relâche. La reine est un jeune
matelot gras, vermeil, bien portant, ayant les joues et le menton frottés d’un
beau rouge qu'on a trouvé dans le jus d’une conserve de betteraves donné
par le maître d’hôtel du commandant; une veste de laine blanche à larges
raies de couleur sert de corsage à sa majesté, dont les formes féminines sont
fortement accusées au moyen de deux de ces paquets de cordages nommés
valets, que les canonniers mettent dans les bouches à feu pardessus les boulets
pour les empêcher d’en sortir. Les appas de la reine sont du calibre de 36!
La Rouennaise Francoise a fourni le reste de la toilette de Mme. La Ligne.
Un jupon rouge, une cornette, un fichu complètent l'ajustement, d’ailleurs
fort pudique, de la nourrice divine qui porte sur ses bras le plus petit des
mousses travesti en amour. L'enfant joue avec le diademe de sa mère, — sa
mère a un diadéme! — le hausse-col d’un officier, attaché autour du bonnet
et renversé, figure assez bien le bandeau royal; l'ancre d'argent qui brille sur
le fond doré est du meilleur effet. La reine obtient un très-grand succès;
quand elle passe, on bat des mains, on rit, on fait des plaisanteries sur cette
Venus qui berce Cupidon; elle salue de fort bonne grâce, elle s’abstient de
parler, dans la crainte de se trahir par la voix; que ne s’abstient-elle aussi de
rire? Sa large bouche ouverte laisse voir . . . Mme La Ligne a oublié de jeter
sa chiquel

Derrière le char venaient les grands officiers de la couronne, burlesque-
ment affublés de pavillons aux bandes éclatantes. Ils fermaient la marche.

The Nineteenth Century 99

Quand le cortége eut défilé aux acclamations de tous les assistans, le roi,
la reine, Neptune, le diable, le meunier et les autres travestis vinrent auprès
de la chapelle pour assister au baptême. Au moment où l'on allait commencer,
le diable ayant déjà pris par la main le général pour aller le présenter au
prêtre, on entendit un grand bruit vers la poulaine. Des tritons, armés de
haches, menaçaient de briser la statue d’ Achille, qui décorait la proue du
vaisseau, si le commandant Prior refusait de payer le tribut que doit tout
bâtiment pour son premier passage sous la ligne. C’était le premier voyage,
en effet, que le navire faisait vers Phémisphére sud; la guerre l’avait retenu
dans les ports de l’ouest depuis sa naissance, et s’il était allé de Rochefort a
Lorient et de Lorient à Brest, malgré le blocus anglais, c’est en cötoyant
la France de très-près, comme font les enfans qui jouent aux quatre coins et se
glissent le long du mur pour n'être pas pris par le guetteur du centre, qu'ils
appellent le chat. Le capitaine ne se fit pas prier; il envoya de l'argent aux
tritons, qui epargnèrent la figure et baptisèrent Achille avec quelques seaux
d’eau de mer, laquelle le rendit plus invulnérable que n’avait pu faire l'im-
mersion dans le Styx, imaginée par Thetis. Tête et talons, tout fut trempé.
L’echafaud qu'on avait dressé auprés de l’éperon pour abattre l'image du héros
fut enlevé, et toute l'attention se concentra sur le gaillard d’arriere.

Le général était au pied de l'autel, entre le capitaine de gendarmerie et le
diable.

— Que va-t-il m’arriver, commandant? dit à M. Prior le général, dont la
voix était singulièrement effrayée.

— Allons, allons, pas de commentaires, répliqua tout de suite le diable; on
va laver ta vieille perruque et autre chose encore que le front bilieux qui
la porte, si tu ne te soumets pas de bonne grâce aux épreuves terribles du
baptême.

Le général repoussa avec colère le personnage qui lui parlait ainsi.

—Quel est ce bélitre qui me tutoie et me menace, monsieur le comman-
dant? Ayez la bonté de rappeler ce mal appris au respect qu'il me doit, ou
je rendrai compte à la cour...

Le prêtre l’interrompit:

— Voulez-vous être baptisé selon la religion du peuple goudronné?

— Non, certainement, je ne le veux pas; adressez-vous aux gens de votre
sorte; je ne plaisante qu'avec mes pareils.

Lofficier fit un signe, et à l'instant les sabres des cinq gendarmes, le trident
de Neptune et la fourche du diable firent autour du général un cercle mena-
cant. La victime poussa un cri d’effroi qui ne trouva pour échos sur le bati-
ment que de longs éclats de rire. Une ronde diabolique commença, au milieu
de laquelle le voltigeur, comme tout le monde appelait le vieil officier-général,
faisait la plus étrange mine.

— Commandant, disait-il, vous répondez sur votre tête de tout ce qui m’ar-
rivera; songez que ce ne serait pas en vain qu'on manquerait à ce qu'on doit
à un lieutenant-général des armées du roil

100 Crossing the Line
1816-1819, continued

M. Prior s’avanga et dit tout bas à l'émigré quelques paroles auxquelles il
répondit vivement:

— Non, non, je ne capitulerai pas avec ces maroufles.

Le prêtre fit un nouveau signe; le diable et Neptune saisirent le récalcitrant
et le firent asseoir sur la planche du baquet.

— On me violente, commandant; vous et les vôtres vous en repentirez]

Le néophyte malgré lui ne pouvait plus faire un mouvement. Le diable
lui dit à l'oreille: “Vous savez l'usage, monsieur; payez et tout finira bien.”
Plus avare encore que peureux, le général ne voulut pas dénouer les cordons
de sa bourse. Tout aurait été fini pourtant s’il l'avait voulu; car dans l’église
équatoriale on connaît aussi les dispenses, et pour une ou deux pieces de
monnaie on se rachète des obligations imposées par la tradition.

Une grosse voix entonna alors sur un air infernal:

— Baptisons, aspergeons et plongeons!

En tout ce qui entourait la chapelle répéta ces trois mots avec des hurle-
mens effroyables. On leva en ce moment le bras gauche du patient, et quand
le prêtre eut fait un grave salut au bonhomme La Ligne, qui le lui rendit avec
le même sérieux, il jeta un pot d’eau dans la manche du général, puis un
autre sur sa tête; puis la planche fut retirée précipitamment, et le siége man-
quant tout à coup, on ne vit bientôt plus en l'air que deux pieds et deux
mains qui s’agitaient comme pour demander du secours. Le derrière était
au fond de la cuve, et c’est tout au plus si la face du baptisé se trouvait à fleur
d’eau; on le retira pestant, menaçant, ruisselant et plaignant sa qualité de
gentilhomme et de lieutenant-général indignement méconnue. On allait
recommencer, quand il se décida à jeter au diable vingt francs pour l’apaiser.
Les bravos, les sifflets, les hueés accueillirent cette résolution tardive. M.
Prior ne put sauver ce charivari à son illustre passager; l'équipage usait am-
plement de son droit, et peut-être le capitaine n’etait-il pas très-fâché, au
fond, qu'on bernät le ridicule successeur des généraux de la république et
de l'empire.

M. Chaupin avait assisté à la moitie de la cérémonie, et quand il avait vu
quelle devenait désagréable pour le général, il avait jugé prudent de se re-
tirer, afin d'éviter, s’il était possible, un traitement pareil, des matelots
s’etaient aperçus de sa disparition et avaient couru sur les traces. Le profes-
seur était allé se cacher dans un recoin du faux-pont où il était blotti, soufflant
à peine, le nez contre la muraille, ramassé en un tas que trahissait seulement
dans l'ombre sa queue blanche. Ce fut de là qu’une main puissante le tira, non
sans qu'il eût une grande frayeur; car, en le suivant à la piste, les marins
étaient allés à pas de loup, et il n'avait pu les entendre avant qu'un jeune
quatier-maitre, lui frappant sur l'épaule, lui eût dit en riant:

— Eh bien! monsieur le bourgeois, que faites-vous donc la? On dirait que
vous vous confessez pour recevoir le baptême dans de plus saintes dispositions!

The Nineteenth Century 101

Sil y a la quelqu'un pour vous écouter, ce ne peut être qu'un vieux rat; et
prenez garde, dam, pommadé comme vous êtes, vous seriez un morceau
friand pour un de ces mangeurs de beurre rance et de chandelle. Ne jouez
pas avec eux, non! On en a vu manger des passagers comme des noix sèches
.… Si vous êtes paré, le prêtre vous attend à l'autel.

Le maitre à danser ne répondait pas. Redressé par le matelot qui l'avait tiré
de son petit coin, il était debout, immobile, effrayé et cherchant sans doute
dans son imagination un moyen pour sortir d’embarras. Il se résolut enfin à
parler; ce fut d’abord pour invoquer le pouvoir de son neveu le ministre du
roi: peine perdue.

— Le ministre du roi et le roi lui-même seraient ici qu'on les baptiserait.
La loi de la ligne est pour tous, mon brave homme; mais le roi et son ministre
s’en tireraient bien s'ils voulaient.

— Et comment cela? reprit M. Chaupin, qui entrevoyait un amendement
à sa position!

— En crachant au bassinet, comme on dit. Ils donneraient vingt-cinq louis,
mille francs, plus ou moins, et une goutte d’eau en ferait l'affaire.

— Ainsi, pour de l'argent...

— Sans doute, vous donnez quelques louis et on vous fait bon marché de
la cérémonie.

— Et combien faudrait-il donner, monsieur le matelot?

— Dam’, dix pièces dor a la face du roi, ce n'est pas trop.

— Dix louis de vingt francs! mais c’est exorbitant.

— Ne vous plaignez pas, on aurait encore le droit d’exiger les quarante
francs de différence.

— Et ne pourrait-on rien rabattre? Je suis un simple professeur, un
artiste.

— Vous êtes l'oncle d’un ministre; vous le disiez tout-à-l’heure pour nous
faire peur. Le ministre vingt-cinq louis, son oncle dix; c’est le prix au plus
juste.

— Mais, le ministre n'est pas tout-à-fait mon neveu, parce qu’il n’a pas
tout-à-fait épousé ma nièce.

— Bien, je vous comprends. Alors c’est un peu moins cher, on vous passera
ça pour six louis.

— Mais, peut-être, au moment où nous parlons, le ministre ne m'est plus
rien du tout; ma nièce m'a déjà donné tant de neveux!

A force de marchander, le tarif s’abaissa jusqu’à dix francs pour l'oncle de
la danseuse. Le quartier-maitre lui promit qu’on !’Epargnerait et qu’il n’aurait
pas plus d’un verre d’eau dans la manche de son habit. Il remonta sur le pont,
content, gaillard, sûr de lui-même et heureux, pardessus toutes choses, de
penser que le général enragerait au fond du cœur de la préférence dont lui
Chaupin allait être l'objet. Pendant qu'on discutait dans le faux-pont, on
continuait 4 baptiser a la chapelle. Mesdemoiselles Rose et Eugénie étaient
ondoyées quand le maitre à danser arriva par l'escalier du grand mât. Tout

102 Crossing the Line
1816-1819, continued

s'était bien passé pour les jeunes filles; leur mère, qui avait déjà traversé
plusieurs fois la zone torride, s'était arrangée avec le diable moyennant quel-
ques pièces d'argent. Elles furent à peine mouillées, et ce nest qu'à regret
qu'elles se virent privées du bain, tant il faisait chaud sous la tente du vais-
seau. Au moment où l’on vit paraître M. Chaupin, suivi quartier-maitre et d’un
autre marin qui le ramenaient, tous les matelots partirent d’un: bravo la
tête à perruque!

On comptait sur un épisode amusant. Le professeur s’avança hardiment
vers le prêtre, et en passant il dit au diable:

— Mon cher, j'ai payé.

— Il faut alors que le prêtre gagne son argent; car, s’il vit de l’autel, ce n’est
pas pour que l'autel le nourrisse à rien faire. La cérémonie aura lieu avec
pompe, ajouta tout haut le diable.

Cette phrase contenait un calembourg auquel personne ne fit attention
d’abord, et ce calembourg était un signal. Une pompe à bras du vaisseau avait
été mise sur la dunette; son tuyau, caché dans un angle de l'autel, fut saisi
par le prêtre pendant que le diable prenait celui d’une autre pompe placée
sur le passavant de babord. On assit sur la planche M. Chaupin qui cherchait
de tous ses yeux le général pour le narguer. Le général était allé caoher son
dépit et le profond mécontentement qu'il avait de la conduite du capitaine
Prior à son égard.

La prière, parodie inintelligible des oraisons catholiques, commença; on
chanta, dans je ne sais quel patois, un hymne qui se termina par ces paroles:
“Mouille, mouille au grand bénissoir.” Deux douches violentes attaquèrent
au même instant le corps frêle du danseur, qui se débattait en vain contre
ces jets dont il était inondé. Un crochet, attaché à son habit, le retenait par
derrière; et quand il voulut fuir il en fut empêché, non-seulement par là, mais
encore par le plongeon qu'il fit dans le large baquet et où le retint un instant
le déluge d’eau tombant sur lui. Tout ce qu'il put dire pour protester contre
cet acte de félonie fut cette phrase: “Tai payé, rendez-moi au moins mes
dix francs.” Le chérubin sortit singulièrement décoiffé de la fatale cuve;
et quand on le vit se redresser, les faces collées aux tempes, la poudre faisant
sur sa figure de longues trainées blanches, personne, pas méme la bonne
sœur Marie, ne put s'empêcher de rire. M. Chaupin ne se fâcha point, on
l'avait pris pour dupe et pour jouet, il se donna un air d’esprit en feignant
la gaieté. L’amour-propre lui fut un bon conseiller, cette fois; il ne voulait
pas ressembler au général, c'était tout le secret de sa philosophie. Il s’essuya,
se mit au soleil qui l'eut séché bientôt, et pour toute récrimination dit au
bonhomme La Ligne: “J'avais pourtant mis au tronc pour les frais du
culte!”

Il ne restait plus que deux personnes à baptiser, Françoise et sœur Marie.
Françoise passa la première; ce n’est pas elle qui donna le spectacle, mais
Félève de la marine qu’on regardait comme le protecteur de la jolie fille de

The Nineteenth Century 103

Rouen. Il était dans une grande agitation qu'il ne savait pas assez dissimuler;
il allait, venait, faisait des recommendations à certains matelots et des signes
au prêtre. Enfin, il tira à part le diable qui se disposait à faire quelque farce
plaisante à la belle paysanne.

— Arthur, lui dit-il, ménage Françoise, ou je te promets qu’à la première
occasion je te ferai donner solidement sur le dos. Ta peau ne sera pas toujours
celle de Satan; ce soir la farce sera finie, veille donc au grain! D'ailleurs, le
docteur a dit qu'il ne faut pas que cette jeune personne. . .

— A la bonne heure donc, monsieur Justin, cette raison vaut mieux que
l’autre, et on y aura égard.

Le diable alla dire un mot au bonhomme La Ligne, qui se leva et prononça
ces paroles qui embarrassèrent très-fort l’aspirant et ne furent comprises que
d Arthur:

— L’Ocean doit respect à sa sœur d’Arabie; que le prêtre soit discret.

Frangoise en fut quitte pour une goutte d’eau sur la téte. Le diable alla
alors en gambadant prendre la sceur de Saint-Joseph par la main, elle résista:

“Je ne me déciderai jamais, monsieur, ditelle avec douceur et conviction,
à jouer un rôle dans cette moquerie du sacrement qui m’a fait la fille de
Jésus-Christ.”

Les matelots rirent aux éclats.

— Elle a raison, dit Neptune, ça la vexe qu’on la rebaptise, elle ne sera
pas rebaptisée. Je me battrai avec un quiconque qui voudrait lui faire de la
peine; je vous chamberderai plutôt tous que de souffrir qu’on la chagrine.
Je la respecte, moi, sœur Marie, et il faut avoir bien peu de cœur pour ne pas
la respecter! Elle m'a soigné quand j'étais mourant-z-à l'hôpital, j ne suis pas
un ingrat. Ainsi, assez causé; que celui qui ne sera pas content vienne me
le dire.

Et le colosse se mit dans la posture d’un homme qui défie son ennemi. Il
avait jeté son croc au commencement de ce discours, et, les poings fermés à
la hauteur de sa ceinture, attendait une réponse.

— Je vous remercie, mon ami, répliqua la sœur hospitalière. Je souffre à
voir une telle profanation; mais plutôt que de causer ici le moindre trouble,
je me soumettrai. Baptisezmoi, monsieur, ajouta-t-elle en s’avançant vers le
prêtre.

— Non, non! cria-t-on de toutes parts. Jean-Pierre a raison! C'est une
bonne dévote cellela! N’ faut pas qu’on la contrarie.

Cet incident termina le baptème individuel; mais l’inondation générale
commença. On avait monté de l'eau dans les hunes, elle tomba par larges
nappes sur le pont; les pompes firent leur jeu, et tout le monde fut mouillé,
excepté Françoise que Justin avait soustraite aux amusemens des matelots.
Le soir, tout rentra dans l’ordre à bord de l’Achille; la cour du bonhomme La
Ligne quitta ses travestissemens. Le général reparut sur le gaillard d’arriere;
le commandant Paborda pour excuser la licence autorisée de l'équipage, on
lui dit séchement: “Jai écrit au roi, monsieur, et nous verrons s'il entend

104 Crossing the Line
1816-1819, continued

qu'on traite aussi indignement ses lieutenans-généraux!” Le diner copieux
préparé par les ordres du commandant Prior fut servi dans la batterie de
trente-six. Tous les passagers allèrent visiter les matelots à table; des toasts
furent portés, dont quelques-uns avaient un ton railleur qui fut accueilli par
des houras bruyans mais inoffensifs. La tempérance fut peu gardée; aussi
toute la nuit, pendant que le général, M. Chaupin et la famille du consul
dormaient tranquillement, sceur Marie veilla.

Elle acquitta auprès de Jean-Pierre la dette de la reconnaissance qu’elle
avait contractée la veille avec Neptune.

Notes

La farce de la ligne est un ancien mystére maritime dont le sens échappe aux plus
scrupuleuses recherches. Pourquoi sous les tropiques et à l'équateur cette parade demi-
paienne, demi-catholique? Que le christianisme ait enté une de ses fêtes sur une fête
paienne, ou qu'il ait modifié celle-ci, ce n’est pas merveille; mais dans quel but la fête
at-elle lieu par telle latitude plutôt que par telle autre? Je l’ignore complétement, et je
n’ai rien trouvé qui me donnät la raison de cette singularité. Faut-il voir dans cette mas-
carade, en usage encore aujourd’hui, un souvenir de la fête du vaisseau consacré à Isis,
vieille patronne de la navigation, ou du navire Baris, consacré à Minerve? Mais, com-
ment estce seulement dans la zone torride que ce culte antique est conservé? il semble
que le soleil soit pour quelque chose dans la solennité du baptème. Le soleil commence
année dans le signe du verseau: Apollon sort des bras de Thétis pour commencer sa
carrière, etc.

Il est probable que la première fois que les anciens franchirent les colonnes d’Hercule,
et passèrent de la Méditerranée dans l'Océan, qu’ils ne connaissaient point, et dont la
physionomie terrible put les effrayer, ils offrirent à Neptune un sacrifice; l'usage a dû
s’en perpétuer, et à chaque pas nouveau qu’on fit sur cette vaste mer la cérémonie dut
être renouvelée. Ce n’est peut-être pas trop hasarder de dire que la fête des tropiques
et de la ligne date de là. C’est à Neptune ou au soleil qu’on aura sacrifié d’abord; et,
soit pensée chrétienne, soit nécessité d’ablutions dans un climat brûlant, le baptême
ou l’aspersion aura suivi. Entrant dans un monde inconnu, le chrétien aura voulu se
purifier comme il fait quand il sort du sein de sa mère, et la célébration de ce renouvel-
lement des vœux aura peu à peu dégénéré en une comédie que les matelots ont fait

tourner à leur profit.
* * *

Les Provençaux apportent au baptême de la ligne beaucoup moins d’appareil que
les marins du Nord. Plus un navire est grand, plus la cérémonie a d'importance. Chacun
s’evertue à se travestir et à faire des extravagances. La discipline perd ce jour-la de
ses rigueurs; il y a liberté complète, et presque égalité, comme autrefois aux fètes de
Saturne; l’injure, la raillerie, sont permises ainsi qu’elles l’étaient a la fète des fous, dont
Lyon et Grenoble ont gardé la tradition sacramentelle dans leurs mascarades du di-
manche des Brandons (le dimanche qui suit le mardi-gras). Le tribut payé aux matelots
par les passagers qui veulent s’affranchir des ennuis de la cérémonie, ou au moins les
abréger, est une spéculation dont l’origine est probablement le tribut jeté 4 Neptune
et recueilli ensuite par les prêtres dans les sacrifices offerts aux dieux des ondes pour
le passage des colonnes d’Hercule, ou pour celui de Charybde et Scylla.

* * *

Les déguisemens de la ligne et des tropiques ne sont pa les seuls qui se pratiquent
à bord des bâtimens. Quelquefois, au carnaval, les matelots portent en procession un
mannequin représentant Mardi-Gras, et le pendent à l'extrémité d’une des basses-

The Nineteenth Century 105

vergues, où il reste jusqu’au mercredi des Cendres. Ce jour-là la procession recommence
et on immerge Mardi-Gras; on le mouille, comme disent les marins. La manœuvre pour
cette cale, donnée à l’image du Caréme-Prenant, est la même que pour le mouillage
d’une ancre; elle est commandée avec gravité, comme s’il s’agissait d’une opération
sérieuse. Les travestissemens des matelots sont bizarres, grotesques, incompréhensibles
pour la plupart; c’est tout simple; les élémens des costumes de caractères leur manquent
tout-a-fait; ils se changent donc, se barbouillent, se defigurent, tout cela avec de la
farine, de la suie, du goudron, et surtout les pavillons de signaux dont les couleurs
éclatantes leur font de riches turbans, de belles ceintures, ou de longues tuniques
bariolées.

(A. Jal. Scènes de la vie maritime. Paris, 1832. v. 1, p. 295-345.)

Following this comes a description of theatricals on shipboard, full of interest, but beside the
oint here.

5 In the first few paragraphs noted above some of the original text has been omitted, parts
sketching various passengers, but I hope it may be accepted that in this saving of space nothing
essential to the picture is left out. Details omitted may add to the extent of sketching but they
are little more than repetition. Omissions are marked by the usual three dots. Later in the dia-
logues dots are used in the original to show hesitation by the speaker, and here they have been
followed with care.

A. Jal, truly a lover of the sea, of its life, on the surface or below, is most of all in love with
the sailor and his ships. Scenes de la vie maritime gives a series of snapshots — no, that is too
informal a term, but “essays” or “interpretations” would perhaps fail to show how intimate and
revealing are the various “chapitres,” and so suppose we let it stand — of the men, the vessels,
the rigging, the desertions, the frolics, all in all an instructive picture of life at sea as French
mariners saw and lived it in the early 19th century. He dates his book from Paris, July 1, 1832,
the year of its publication; he gives 1816-1819 as the date of chapter on “Baptême sous la Ligne.”

He dedicates the Scenes to Vice-Admiral de Rigny, pays tribute to other writers in the same
line, most of all to James Fenimore Cooper, whom he rates highest, adds other French and
British writers, but of all fixes Cooper as “leur maître et le notre.” He opens his preface with
“voici un essai dans un genre de littérateur qui a déjà ses chefs-de-ceuvre,” Cooper easily first;
sums his own story up in “Si vous ne trouvez pas la éxactitude absolue, j'espère que vous y
trouvez verité.”

In this particular chapter he carries the tale along with artistic suspense; says not one word
as to how much is fiction and how much factual enough for evidence in court of law. It stands
out among the quotations about the “crossing” already given, and to follow, by taking time to
picture the passengers and to say plainly that in this case, at least, Jack Tar sized these gentry
up and gave each the treatment he felt was rightly deserved when time came for initiation; is
alone, as I recall it, in telling how a chapel and a priest in clerical garb were provided for the
baptism; is worthy of note too as being the first, early in this second decade of the century, to
tell how some of the landlubbers agreed — with a little help and suggestion — that they saw
clearly just what that “line” of the equator really looked like, a bit of fooling that seems to have
had to wait for its counterpart until the last decade of the century when Mark Twain tells us
how he followed the equator.

The whole tale calls unmistakably for delving into the records of the French navy to tell us
more about Captain Prior and his Achille, about the rating of this French naval vessel, about its
crew and its later history, enough at least to satisfy Sir Anthony Absolute.

Or, does it?

1817

Du 1.* au 5 novembre, plusieurs hommes de l’équipage, ainsi que quelques
personnes de l'état-major, furent pris presque instantanément de coliques
assez fortes: ces indispositions durèrent de vingt-quatre à quarante-huit
heures. Nos médecins ont été obligés d'en chercher la cause dans le passage
brusque d’une zone atmosphérique dans une autre qui contenoit des principes
morbides. Insensiblement cependant nos malades se rétablirent; nous n’en

106 Crossing the Line
1817, continued

avions même plus qu’un seul, retenu sur les cadres par une chute, lorsque
nous coupâmes l'équateur, dans la nuit du 20 novembre, à 31° environ de
longitude occidentale du méridien de Paris.

L’equipage se livra, selon un usage fort ancien chez les gens de mer, aux
folies qui se pratiquent au passage de la ligne, et qui souvent ont été décrites
par les voyageurs. La journée fut trés-gaie, et terminée par des réjouissances
auxquelles l'état-major ne dedaigna pas de prendre part. Quelque ridicules
que puissent paroitre 4 des hommes graves les mascarades qui ont lieu a
cette époque, comme elles contribuent sans aucun doute, par la joie qu'elles
font naître, à entretenir la santé parmi l'équipage, je pense que les capitaines
prudens feront toujours bien de les permettre, et même d’y exciter les mate-
lots.

(Louis de Freycinet. Voyage autour du monde . . . Exécuté sur les
corvettes de s. m. [’Uranie et la Physicienne, pendant les années 1817,
1818, 1819 et 1820 . . . Historique. Paris, 1827. v. 1, part 1, p. 27.)

Freycinet (1779-1842) was sent to this expedition by France primarily to take pendulum
measurements in Brazil but also to observe and report on natural history and other sciences.

Once more does illness for some on board mark the crossing, the ceremonies incidental. “Pas-
sage brusque,” however, seems to show no calms or other inclement weather as cause of the
illness as the ships made their southing.

And here again do “homes graves” and “etat-major” feel they stand above such frivolities
as mark Neptune’s visit, though we found that the British with Cook, one and all, took their
medicine even if they could hardly be charged with keen joy over what they endured. Yes, and
at the same time remember as not untypical of a British point of view the superb disdain we
found on the quarter-deck when Sir George Staunton tells about the Macartney mission sent to
China by George III in 1792, and the genial condescension shown by the gentlewoman writing
the letter printed in The Gentleman’s Magazine of 1792.

Another version of the performance on this same voyage follows, one text in the original French,
a second in a translation published in London in 1828.

Quelques heures plus tard, nos observations nous plasérent presque sous
la ligne, et les incidents de la veille furent oubliés dans les préparatifs d’une
fète solennelle et bouffonne a la fois, consacrée par l'usage de tous les peuples
de la terre, et de laquelle la gravité mème de notre expédition éminemment
scientifique n’avait pas le droit de nous affranchir. Rien n’est despote comme
un antique usage.

Le passage de la ligne est une époque mémorable pour tout navigateur.
On change d’hemisphere, de nouvelles étoiles brillent au ciel, la grande
Ourse se cache sous les flots, et la Croix-du-Sud plane éclatante sur le navire.
Lors des premières conquêtes des navigateurs du quatorzième siècle, le
passage de la ligne était un jour religieux de terreur et de gloire; il devint
plus tard un sujet de raillerie et de mépris. L'art nautique, agrandi par
l'astronomie, science exacte et féconde, fit justice du merveilleux dont on
avait coloré les phénomènes rêvés sous des zones jusqu'alors inconnues. Dès
ce moment aussi la peur s’evanouit, et les dangers furent bravés avec insou-
ciance; dès qu'on les supposa moindres, on osa les supposer nuls. Cependant

The Nineteenth Century 107

des obstacles restaient encore à vaincre et d’autres luttes devaient se pré-
parer plus tard; les périls soumis donnaient de l'audace, et des cris de joie
retentissaient alors que le cap de Bonne-Espérance, le cap Horn et le détroit
de Magellan n’avaient pas encore appris aux Colomb, aux Cabral, aux Dias
de Solis, aux Vasco de Gama, que les mers les plus tempêtueuses leur re-
staient à vaincre. Ainsi ce fut d’abord la frayeur qui institua la cérémonie
du passage de la ligne, dont il faut bien que je vous parle un peu, puisque
c’est un des plus graves épisodes de notre longue campagne.

Dès la veille, un bruit inaccoutumé retentissant dans la batterie nous
disait que les héros de la fête savaient les us et coutumes des anciens. Les
caronades résonnaient sous les coups précipités des marteaux qui façon-
naient avec de la tôle les chaînes des diables, la couronne du monarque, son
sceptre et son glaive sans fourreau. Les matelots-poètes (et ils le sont tous
plus ou moins) improvisaient des refrains joyeux et gaillards.

Cependant l'heure est venue, la batterie est déserte, le pont se peuple,
les visages sont gais et rayonnants. Tout-à-coup les fouets sifflent, les trom-
pettes sonnent; et de la grande hune descend un luron botté, éperonné,
Savancant avec gravité vers le banc de quart et demandant d’un ton im-
périeux le chef de l'expédition.

— Qu'il accoste sur-le-champ! ajoute-t-il; j'ai affaire à lui, ou plutôt il a
affaire à moi.

Notre commandant, humble et soumis, se présente bientôt revêtu de son
grand uniforme.

— Que voulez-vous? dit-il au courrier.

— Te parler.

— J'écoute.

— Que viens-tu faire dans les parages du roi de la ligne?

— Des observations astronomiques.

— Betise!

— Et compter les oscillations du pendule pour déterminer l’aplatissement
de la terre dans toutes ses régions.

— Que c'est plat!

— Etudier aussi les mœurs du peuple.

— On s’en bat l'œil, des mœurs à étudier! Qu'est-ce que peut te rapporter
tout ça?

— De la gloire.

— Et la gloire donne-t-elle du vin, du rhum, de l’eau-de-vie?

— Non, pas toujours.

— Alors je me fiche de ta gloire comme d’une chique usée! Au surplus,
c'est votre affaire, à vous tous, pékins de l'état-major, qui vous dorlotez dans
vos cabines quand nous sommes trempés comme des canards. Mais il s’agit
d'autre chose en ce moment. Maitre Fouque, roi de la ligne, técrit; je suis
son courrier, voici sa lettre. Sais-tu lire?

— Unpeu...

108 Crossing the Line
1817, continued

— Mon neveu. Tiens, j'attends ta réponse.
L’epitre était ainsi conçue:

Capitaine, je veux bien que ta coquille de noix aille de avant, si
toi et ton piètre etat-major consentez à vous soumettre aux lois de
mon empire. Y consentez-vous? Largue tes voiles, hisse tes bon-
nettes et file tes douze nœuds. Si tu n’y consens pas, paravire, lof
pour lof, et navigue à la boulinel

Signé: FoUuQUE, second maitre d'équipage de la corvette, actuelle-
ment roi de la ligne.

— Je connais mon devoir, répond le capitaine; dès ce moment je suis
le sujet du roi ton souverain.

— A la bonne heurel Sais-tu marcher la tête en bas, les pieds en haut?

— J'apprendrai.

— Rien n’est plus facile. As-tu mangé du phoque et du pingouin?

— Pas encore.

— Tu en mangeras, je ten réponds; aiguise tes dents, et après cela, si le
vent test favorable, si aucune roche ne t’arréte en route, si ton navire ne
sombre pas au large et si tu ne crèves pas, tu reverras ton pays; c'est moi
qui te le dis.

— Je vous remercie de vos prédictions.

— Ce rest pas encore tout; il fait bien chaud.

— Ah! c'est juste, j'oubliais .. Vite une carafe d’eau filtrée à l'ambassadeur!

— Tu te fiches de moil

— Alors du vin.

— Merci! aujourd'hui je ne bois que de ce qui soüle.

— Voici une bouteille de rhum.

— C’est mieux; mais on boîte avec une seule jambe, et il m'en faut deux.

— Les voici.

— C'est faire les choses en vrai gabier; tu arriveras. Adieu, à bientôt.

Les fanafares recommencent, le courrier remonte triomphant vers la hune
où l'attend le roi, entouré des meilleurs matelots; et tandis que l'équipage
impatient et joyeux se rue sur le pont, le nez au vent et l'oreille aux écoutes,
maître Fouque fait tomber sur lui un déluge d’eau salée, faible prélude des
ablutions plus complètes qui auront lieu le lendemain. Pour nous, gens à
priviléges, placés au gaillard d’arriere, nous regimes sur les épaules une
violente grèle de blé de Turquie et de pois chiches, qui, sans nous blesser,
nous força à la retraite.

Mais le grand jour est arrivé, et de la batterie enjolivée monte par les
écoutilles la mascarade la plus grotesque, la plus bizarre, la plus hideuse que
jamais imagination de Callot eût pu jeter sur la toile. Les peaux de deux
moutons écorchés la veille servent à vêtir le souverain; son front est paré
d’une couronne et son cou desséché est orné d’un double rang de pommes

The Nineteenth Century 109

de terre taillées à facette. Son épouse, le plus laid des matelots de l'équipage,
voile ses appas sous des jupes fabriquées à l'aide de cinq ou six mouchoirs
de diverses couleurs. Deux melons inégaux que convoitent les yeux amou-
reux de l'époux monarque embellissent sa poitrine velue et ridée. Le chapeau
tricorne de M. de Quélen, notre indulgent aumônier, coiffe le chef du notaire
(je ne sais pourquoi il y a des notaires partout). Deux ânes portent le roi,
leur rôle a été vivement disputé, et on ne la obtenu qu'après avoir donné
des preuves éclatantes de hautes capacités et d’entétement. Lucifer, avec
son bec fourchu, ses cornes aiguës et trainant de longues chaînes, est vigou-
reusement fustigé par une badine de trois pieds de long et de deux pouces
de diamètre. Il feint de vouloir s'échapper, mais, épouvanté par l’eau sacrée
dont l’inonde le prêtre, choisi parmi les moins sobres des matelots, il ronge
ses fers, fait entendre dhorribles rugissements et pousse du pied la fille du
monarque, qui se jette sur le sein de sa mère et le mord avec voracité. Huit
soldats armés ferment le cortége, qui prend des bancs, des tabourets ou des
fauteuils, selon la dignité de chaque personnage.

— Vous avez donc froid? disions-nous à sa majesté la Ligne, qui grelottait.

— Hélas! non, répondait maitre Fouque, j'étouite, au contraire, sous cette
épaisse fourrure, mais l'usage veut que je tremble, que je frissonne; et mes
gens sont tenus de mimiter en tout point, sous peine d’etre privés de leur
emploi. C’est bête, j'en conviens, mais ainsi ont ordonné nos anciens, qui
apparemment étaient plus frileux que nous.

Cependant le trône est occupé, les grands dignitaires prennent gravement
leur place autour d’une énorme baille de combat sur le bord de laquelle
est adaptée une planche à bascule où doit s’asseoir le patient. La liste de
tout l'équipage est entre les mains du notaire, qui se lève et lit à haute voix
les noms et prénoms de chacun de nous. Le premier appelé est notre com-
mandant.

— Votre navire a-t-il déjà eu l'honneur de visiter notre royaume? lui dit
le monarque.

— Non.

— En ce cas, grenadiers, à vos fonctions! . . . A ces mots, quatre soldats
armés de haches s’elancent sur le gaillard d’avant et font mine de vouloir
abattre la poulaine à coups redoublés. Deux pièces d’or tombées dans un
bassin placé sur une table arretent l’ardeur des assaillants, qui reprennent
leur poste d’un air satisfait: ce diable de métal fait partout des prodiges.
L’etat-major est appelé nominativement, et chacun, à tour de rôle, se place
à califourchon sur la planche à bascule qui domine l'énorme baille à demi
pleine d’eau salée. Là, on doit répondre d’une manière positive et sans
hésiter à la formule suivante et sacramentelle, lue à haute voix par le notaire.

“Dans quelque circonstance que vous vous trouviez, jurez devant sa ma-
jesté la Ligne de ne jamais faire la cour à la femme légitime d’un marin.”
Le patient doit répondre: Je le jure! sous peine d'immersion, et jeter dans le
bassin quelques pièces d'argent réservées, pour la première relâche, à un
gala général où les rangs et les grades seront confondus. La décence (car

110 Crossing the Line

1817, continued

il en faut même dans les choses les moins sérieuses), la décence ne permet-
tait pas qu’un seul de nous regtt l’ablution totale; on se contentait d'ouvrir
une des manches de notre habit et d'y infiltrer quelques gouttes d’eau en
prononcant les paroles d'usage: Je te baptise. Mais quand vint le tour des
matelots, nul ne fut épargné. Plongés dans la baille, ils ne parvenaient à
en sortir qu aprés les efforts les plus inouis, les contorsions les plus grotesques;
et les énergiques jurons frappaient les airs, et les éclats de rire se mêlaient
aux jurons, et les bons mots de cabaret se croisaient sans que pas un martyr
eût osé se fächer. C’etait une joie bruyante, tumultueuse, une joie de mate-
lot en délire qui oublie que là et là, sous ses pieds, sur sa tête, il y a une
mer et un ciel dont le caprice et le courroux peuvent le broyer et l'engloutir
aujourd’hui ou demain. Hélas! ces heures sont si courtes à bord, que je ne
vis pas sans un vif regret l'horizon se charger de nuages et la cérémonie pres
d’etre close par une bourrasque ou une tempête.

Mais un incident inattendu devait varier encore les émotions de la
journée. Un nom répété plusieurs fois reste sans réponse; on se questionne,
on sémeut, on s’agite, on fouille de tous côtés, dans les hunes, sous les
câbles; on descend dans la batterie, et l’on apprend enfin qu'un profane,
fier de son état de cuisinier, est décidé à tout prix à s'affranchir de la règle
commune. — Tout le monde à la batterie! . . . crie une voix formidable. Et
la batterie est aussitôt envahie par les écoutilles et les sabords. — Sur le
pont! sur le pont! . .. à cheval sur la bascule! Point de grace! point de mercil
Que la noyade soit complete! s’écrie-t-on de toutes parts, qu'il perde la
respiration!

Dans la batterie, en effet, était un héros, cuisinier de l'état-major, lequel
avait juré en partant de ne pas recevoir le baptême, et qui aurait regardé
comme un grand déshonneur qu’une seule goutte d’eau salée vint outrager
l'harmonie de ses cheveux bouclés avec une coquetterie dont il tirait une
si ridicule vanité. Son front ruisselant est coiffé du bonnet blanc de l’ordre,
où voltigent çà et là quelques légères plumes, dépouilles ensanglantées de
ses victimes du jour; ses yeux sont rouges de colère, sa mâchoire contractée,
ses lèvres violettes, crispées et frémissantes; un grand couteau de cuisine
pend à son côté; de la main droite, il tient serrée une longue broche où est
empalé un chapelet de pigeons à demi consumé; son pied, chaussé d'une
pantoufle verte, presse fortement une caronade; et, bien disposé à se dé-
fendre, il adresse d’abord la parole aux plus audacieux de ses ennemis.

— Que me voulez-vous? qui vous amène dans mes foyers?

— L'ordre de notre roi.

— Obéissez, puisque vous êtes esclaves; moi, je nai pas de roi et je trône
seul ici.

— Tu dois être baptisé comme nous.

— J'ai reçu mon baptême de feu, et cela me suffit.

— La loi est pour tous.

The Nineteenth Century Ib

Vous êtes des renégats qui adjurez votre première religion pour une reli-
gion nouvelle. Ici est mon domaine, mon empire; ici sont mes dieux et ma
croyance; ces fourneaux, ces casseroles, ces broches, ce sont là mes armes,
les insignes de mon indépendance. Qui vous a donné le droit de m’attaquer,
de me poursuivre, de me traquer comme une bôte fauve? . . . Oh! je ne vous
crains pas! car je ne serai pas baptisé. Il dit et plante dans le bordage sa
broche aiguë.

— En avant les pompes! dit Marchais de sa voix rauque et caverneuse;
en avant les pompes!

Et mille jets rapides inondent de l'avant et de l'arrière lintrépide cuisinier.
Celui-ci reste cloué à son poste d'honneur, pareil au roc battu par la tour-
mente; et il sort, sinon vainqueur, du moins invaincu, de cette lutte acharnée,
à laquelle un grain violent, pesant sur le navire, vient mettre un terme.

L'orage dura quelques heures, l’effervescence des matelots se calma avec
les vents, une nuit silencieuse et douce plana sur la corvette, et nous nous
vimes jetés de nouveau sous les zones des vents alizés, qui, soufflant également
dans des deux hémisphères, devaient voyager avec nous jusqu’au Brésil.

(Jacques Arago. Voyage autour du monde. Nouvelle édition expurgée,
précédée dune introduction de Jules Janin. [Paris] Librairie Nationale
d'Education et de Recreation, [n. d.])

Promenade autour du monde, pendant les années 1817, 1818, 1819 et 1820, sur les corvettes
du roi l’Uranie et la Physicienne, commandées par M. Freycinet, Par Js. Arago, came out at Paris
in 1822 in two octavo volumes and one atlas folio. In 1838 at Paris appeared Voyage autour du
monde in two octavo volumes. The text quoted above is from Janin’s edition, dated probably in

the 1870s or ’80s.
An English version follows, printed at London in 1823.

I have no doubt, that if we were to investigate the cause of all the gay and
burlesque ceremonies instituted since the commencement of civilization in
Europe, we should find them to originate in fear or in religion. It was reli-
gion that gave rise among us to the most tumultuous festival that engages
the fickle Parisians. Every body is acquainted with the History of the Nuns
of Longchamps, and the motive which drew the curious to that quarter; and
we see what has resulted from this habit of visiting the place, which must
originally be ascribed to a religious cause.

The navigators who first crossed that imaginary line which is called the
equator, alarmed at the distance which separated them from their country,
and the dangers to which their audacity exposed them, sought by vows and
prayers to propitiate the favour of Heaven. In the narratives of their voyages
they devoted a few lines to the record of their fears, and of the consolations
which they had experienced. Their successors imitated their conduct in
every thing, and especially in the moment of danger. But little reliance is to
be placed on promises made at such moments; and all the good resolutions
then formed vanish with the fears which gave them birth. When, therefore,
the science of navigation had, by new discoveries, and voyagers, by a bold-

ness equally astonishing, diminished apprehensions by smoothing diffi-

me Crossing the Line

1817, continued

culties, the prayers of mariners became less ardent, and their vows less fre-
quent. By degrees they became accustomed to hardships, and surmounted
them with greater ease and courage. As soon as they dared to suppose them
less formidable, they dared to consider them as next to nothing: a thousand
examples of successful hardihood strengthened their confidence. Hence the
first institutions were forgotten; and hence the raillery bestowed on the im-
aginary fears of the first navigators. The day on which they were to cross
the equator was expected with impatience. The more the dangers had been
magnified, the less they seemed to dread them. This day they devoted in
an especial manner to diversion, to the oblivion of their toils; and as all
customs over which folly presides are more permanent than those sanc-
tioned by reason and good sense, the consequence is, that the latter have
given place to the former, and will, doubtless, subsist so long as there shall
be seamen.

The importance attached to our expedition did not exempt us from the
rule; and I shall proceed to give you some account of the ceremonies which
marked that day on board our vessel.

On the preceding day, the movements of the sailors, who were engaged
in studying their respective parts, gave us the assurance of mirth. The
serenest atmosphere seemed to promise them a fine day. We were doubly
pleased, both in the prospect of our own amusement, and in the likelihood
that the efforts of the crew would not be disappointed.

Their costumes are prepared; folly shakes his bells from the tops, and
every actor responds by a smile or anod....... How little is required to
gladden the heart of the unfortunate! In the evening, while we were at our
dessert, the repeated cracking of a whip announced the commencement of
the ceremony. We instantly rose and went upon deck. A gruff voice, swelled
by an enormous speaking-trumpet, called the captain. The officer of the
watch sent to inform him that he was wanted; and M. Freycinet, previously
acquainted with the routine of the ceremony, replied, in a humble and sub-
dued tone, that he was ready to receive the envoy of his Majesty of the Line.
Fresh cracks of a whip proclaimed the arrival of the messenger, who handed
to the captain a letter, a model of eloquence, which his majesty’s secretary
had previously allowed me to read. More discreet than he was, I shall not
communicate it to you; for it is always dangerous to betray the secrets of
courts.

M. Freycinet read the letter, bestowed sincere praises on the writer, and
asked the envoy whence he came. ‘From Toulon,’ replied he hastily; and
blushing at his blunder, he added: ‘I have come a great way, and it is
exceedingly hot.’ — ‘Oh! I understand you; a jug of water for the courier!’
— ‘Many thanks to your honour; if I accept any thing, it will only be some-
thing to drink.’ After a slight libation, which the other actors nevertheless

The Nineteenth Century 113

envied him, he gaily returned to the aërial court, carrying to his master the
answer of the captain.

An abundant shower from the buckets that were in the tops punished the
sailors on deck for their curiosity, while a deluge of hail, represented by
Turkey corn, was reserved for us. Our fowls and ducks, which were put that
day on short allowance, were the only creatures on board that had reason
to dislike the festival.

The great day at length arrived. Very early in the morning the rusty
trumpets were scoured, and with their piercing din alarmed the inmates of
the deep. The whips cracked; hammers struck the anvil in quick succession,
and finished the crown destined for the king, and the chains for his enemies.
The skins of two sheep, killed the preceding day, served for the robes of
his majesty; and his royal consort, the ugliest man among the whole crew,
concealed her charms by petticoats made of five or six handkerchiefs of
different colours. Two melons of unequal size, to which the amorous eyes
of the monarch were wistfully directed, embellished her delicate bosom.
The three-cornered hat of our indulgent chaplain covered the head of the
notary; though I cannot tell why there should be notaries every where. Two
asses supported the king — their parts had been warmly disputed, and they
were not conferred till the candidates for them had given proofs of their
capacity. Lucifer, with his crooked beak and long claws, chained and beaten
with a broomstick, three feet long and two inches in diameter, strove to
escape; but being prevented by the water, with which he was inundated
by the priest, selected from among the least sober of the sailors, he gnawed
his chains, and terrified with his roaring the daughter of the king, who threw
herself on her mother’s breast, and bit it with voracity. Eight armed soldiers
closed the procession.

‘Are you cold?’ said we to the man who personated the King of the Line,
on observing him shiver. ‘No, my lads,’ replied he, ‘I am almost smothered
in my skins; but it is customary for me to tremble.’ His wife, his daughter,
nay even Lucifer himself, trembled, and we laughed among ourselves at
their grotesque costume, and at this practice, which seemed still more
grotesque.

All had by this time taken their places; the notary opened the fatal list,
in which were inscribed the names of the profane who had not yet passed
the line. An enormous tub, half full of water, to which was adapted a swing
for sitting in, gave us notice that the ablutions would be frequent and
serious.

In vain did the king of the line enjoin silence, which a whistle from the
boatswain instantly obtained. The name of Captain Freycinet was pro-
claimed. He was asked if his ship had already had the honour to pass the
line; and on his answer in the negative, four soldiers went up to the windlass,
and with hatchets struck the mast near which it was placed. A few pieces of
money, dropped by the captain, appeased the wrath of the monarch, and

114 Crossing the Line

1817, continued

stopped the blows of the soldiers. What prodigies this magic metal every
where performs!

The other officers came next; and each, as he answered the priest, was
required to swear never to kiss a sailor's wife. To kiss was not precisely the
term employed, but I substitute it for a more ticklish expression, used by
the sailor-priest, to signify nearly the same thing. One of our number, by
way of joke, desired the oath to be repeated to him a second time, but with-
out pronouncing it himself, as if apprehensive lest he should break it. You
run no risk,’ said the too indulgent parson to him in a whisper; ‘swear at
any rate. Oaths have long been in fashion; you know what they are worth
by the yard; and when there is need for it, I promise you a total absolution.
Swear, to satisfy my neighbours; added he; ‘for my part, I am determined
to continue a bachelor.’

Decorum, which must be kept up even in the least serious matters, for-
bade that any of us should receive the total ablution. Perhaps our liberality
abated the temptation to laugh at our expense. Be this as it may, that part
of the ceremony was reserved for the sailors, who, seated over the large tub,
were in a moment plunged into it, and could not extricate themselves with-
out the utmost efforts and the most grotesque contortions.

But an unexpected incident suspended the ceremony, and excited mur-
murs. Each looked at the other, inquiring what was the matter, and learned
with astonishment that one of the uninitiated, proud of the office which he
held on board, refused to submit to the established practice; and that, armed
with a formidable weapon, he was preparing to repel the attack of all the
combined devils and their thousand prongs. All hurried to the spot, and in
the kitchen our astonished eyes beheld a hero. Such appeared the great
Ajax of yore, when, with javelin poised, he checked the progress of Hector
and his victorious Trojans. His left foot was planted on a carronade. which
served for a rampart to the culinary hero: the white cap of his profession
covered his radiant head, and defended his brow, befeathered with the down
of his innocent victims. An apron, of equivocal colour, was gracefully thrown
over the shoulder of the pursued warrior, and resembled a drapery à la
Grecque. His eyes flashed indignation; and his face and attitude expressed
impatience for the fight. In his hand he held a pointed spit, whereon was
impaled a meagre turkey, which, with his head turned toward the assailants
of his executioner, seemed to bid them beware of the traitor, and to fear a
fate similar to his own. In vain did the pipes of the pumps drench the
unruly cook with salt water, which mingled with the sauces he had pre-
pared, without making them any the worse; in vain were threats pronounced
on all sides: firm as a rock amid the dashing billows, his eyes still flashed
defiance. ‘I will certainly dispatch some of you,’ at length cried he, in a
voice of thunder: ‘and were you twenty times as numerous, you shall not
make me submit to the ignominious laws which you have been pleased to

The Nineteenth Century 115

establish, and from the operation of which my resolution shall exempt me.
No; I would not have paid obeisance to Gessler’s hat or to Caligula’s horse;
no, I will not be baptized. What right have you to attack, on his own hearth,
a man whose every moment is devoted to the happiness of his fellows, who
delights their palates, who is ever burning for their welfare with a fire
which ought to secure him from so unlooked-for an attack, from so gross an
insult? And thou, proud Chaumont, thou whom I see the most eager in
persecuting me, say, ingrate, canst thou, without blushing, join this coward
herd, and fall foul of him whom gratitude should teach thee to respect?
How often, in spite of the orders I had received (for who can boast of being
the first in the world), how often have I permitted thee to dip thy pitchy
fingers into the concavity of my stewpans! Unthankful wretch! is this the
reward for my kindness — is this the recompense which thy gratitude re-
served for me? Alas! that virtue of great minds has not found a place in thy
obdurate heart. Insensible to my favours, thou now burnest with impatience
to plunge me in an ignominious tub. In return, I will set thee an example
of generosity. Come thou — come all ye, who, like him, have shared my
bounty, though not so frequently — come, bind these unresisting arms: I
will neither fight nor defend myself. Let him among you, who has not par-
taken of my profusion, stand forth, and be the first to lay hands on one,
whom neither chains nor dungeons can dishonour!’ He spake, and relin-
quished his long spit, which quivered, till the rage of Mars and the weight
of the turkey had ceased to operate upon it.

The assailants were thunderstruck: they looked at each other, cast down
their eyes, blushed, and slunk away. Thus did the great Germanicus of old,
by firm and generous language, overawe his mutinous troops; and thus did
the Grecian orator move at pleasure the hearts of the Athenians, when, timid
and pusillanimous, they were afraid to encounter Philip, their conqueror
and implacable enemy.

The crowd has dispersed, and order is restored. Lucifer has again become
a good devil; the monarch an active boatswain; the priest a jolly tar, who
is fond of good cheer; each of the actors has re-assumed his real character.
The atmosphere is covered with thick clouds; they are stimulating each
other to the performance of their duties, and counteracting, by their pru-
dence and activity, the violence of the winds.

P.S. Laurı sacra fames! to what dost thou not expose feeble mortals!
Truth compels me to inform you, that inflated with such glorious success,
our illustrious cook, on our arrival at Rio Janeiro, felt his heart inflamed
anew with military ardour; and that in the plains of La Plata he is perhaps
now seeking nobler victims than those which he has hitherto immolated.
How often is it the case that a single moment makes a hero!

(Jacques Arago. Narrative of a voyage round the world, in the Uranie
and Physicienne corvettes, commanded by Captain Freycinet, during
the years 1817, 1818, 1819, and 1820; on a scientific expedition under-

116 Crossing the Line

1817, continued
taken by order of the French government. In a series of letters to a
friend, by J. Arago, draftsman to the expedition . . . To which is prefixed

the report made to the Academy of Sciences, on the general results of
the expedition. London, 1823. p. 29-36.)

Arago was officially “draftsman to the expedition” or, as the French text runs, “en qualite de
dessinateur,” and he sailed on the Uraine. Note that under his name in the catalogue printed by
the Bibliothéque Nationale stand some eighty entries, and one is willing to admit that he showed
himself in later years able to rank with journalists, theatre directors, travelers, general writers on
many topics, evidently not troubled by restraints on his expression of emotion or opinion. He
was the third of four brothers.

Avant de commencer la cérémonie le roi de la ligne envoie au capitaine
un courrier qui lit la mission suivante: |
Je vous envoie Rafalus-Ouraganus à cette fin de savoir si ta bicoque de

coque a déjà visité la — (ligne); si oui, file ton nœud; si non mes gabiers
armés de leurs HH, vont abattre ta poulaine, à moins que tu ne texé-
cutes en vrai gabier. Je sais que tu es un vrai lapin, qui te f.... du typhon
ainsi que d’une chique; mais comme tu vas marcher le tête en bas, ce qui est
gênant pour la soupe, tu as besoin d'appui et je suis à toi.

(Jacques Arago. Deux océans. Paris, 1854, reprinted in: Mélusine, v. 2

(1884-5), column 279.)

Melusine in 1884 quotes from Deux Oceans, thirty years earlier. Just when the messenger of
Neptune appeared is uncertain, but it seems fairly probable that the tale refers to the voyage
of 1817. It is so ordered and filed.

1818

The 8th [of February, 1818], at six o'clock in the morning, we crossed the
line in longitude 253° 9’. We saw to the right, at the edge of the horizon, a
ship under sail, which, as it came nearer, I recognized by its sails and struc-
ture to be a pirate ship belonging to the Malays.

(Otto von Kotzebue. A voyage of discovery into the South Sea. Lon-
don, 1821. v. 2, p. 269-270.)
This crossing in the Pacific from north to south was on the homeward voyage; no ceremony
this time as compared with the outward bound frolics in 1815. The second crossing from north

to south in the Atlantic is noted under 1828, and Kotzebue’s account of the ceremony is quoted
by Fitz-Roy in his story of the voyage of the Beagle, 1832.

1822

[April 2, 1822. pm board La Nèrèïde.] Quel curieux sujet d'études offre un
vaisseau, chargé de passagers, lorsqu'il navigue, paisiblement, dans les mers
radieuses qui avoisinent les Tropiques!

Presque pas de manœuvres! par suite de la persistance du beau temps.
Aussi, chacun essaie t-il de se distraire, suivant ses goûts. Les uns jouent
aux cartes, aux dames ou au loto. Ceux-ci font des armes; ceux-là, de la

The Nineteenth Century 117

musique. Sur le gaillard d’avant, ce sont des danses naives, et, de la grand’-
hune, fusent souvent des facéties destinées à égayer l'équipage.

Le 1* avril, veille du jour où nous devions couper le Tropique, retentirent,
au moment où nous sortions de table, des fanfares de trompettes et des
décharges de mousqueterie. Alors, une voix rauque et tremblante, tombant
de la grand’hune, interpella l'officier de quart. Elle lui demandait le nom
de notre navire et de son commandant, son port d'attache et celui de sa
destination.

L’officier répondit, complaisament.

La voix du Bonhomme Tropique reprit:

— Jai l'honneur de connaître déjà le commandant et les braves officiers
de cette frégate. Ce n'est pas la première fois qu'ils viennent me visiter.
Quant aux nombreux passagers de ce bord, ils ne peuvent pénétrer dans
mes vastes domaines, sans me payer, au préalable, le tribut d'usage. Je vais
donc vous expédier mon courrier spécial. Il vous fera connaître exactement
mes conditions.

Bruit de tonnerre; coups de pistolet et grêle de haricots tombant de toutes
les hunes.

En même temps, le courrier annoncé descend du grand étai. Il monte sur
ses chevaux — des gabiers déguisés qui l’attendent sur le gaillard d’avant.

Très joliment costumé, ce postillon, qui fait claquer son fouet, se présente
au commandant, et lui remet les dépêches de son maitre. Ces dépêches récla-
ment le tribut obligatoire de tous ceux qui n’ont pas encore franchi le
Tropique.

Notre commandant promet satisfaction et fait conduire à l'office le postil-
lon et ses chevaux.

Le lendemain, à six heures du matin, nous coupions le Tropique du
Cancer.

Tout était prêt pour la cérémonie du baptème. Une tente se dressait au
pied du grand mât. Sous cette tente, un autel orné d’une boussole, un
compas, une carte de l'Océan, un octant et une ligne de loc. Près l'autel, une
cuve d'eau.

Voici la Cour du Tropique qui descend de la grand’hune, au bruit de la
mousqueterie. En téte, des diables porteurs de crocs, de chaines et de
fourches. Derrière, tous les gabiers, déguisés en Arabes du désert. Suit la
gendarmerie du Tropique. Elle escorte le Bonhomme, sa femme et sa fille.
Ces grands personnages sont trainés sur un char que domine Neptune, le
front ceint d'une couronne de fer blanc, et le bras armé d’un trident.

Le cortége défile au son de la musique, et fait halte en face de l'état-major.

Le Bonhomme Tropique, courbé sous le poids des ans, a le crâne ombragé
d’une perruque d’etoupe, qui traîne jusqu'à terre. Il salue le commandant
et se dirige vers sa tente. C’est l'heure solennelle. Son grand prêtre va bap-
tiser les néophytes.

118 Crossing the Line
1822, continued

L'un après l’autre, ils sont conduits, au pied de l'autel, sur lequel un tronc
vient d’etre placé. Ceux qui y déposent une offrande s’en tirent avec quel-
ques gouttes d’eau versées dans la manche de leur habit. Ceux qui oublient
cette formalité substantielle, sont plongés dans la cuve.

Quant aux soldats, on se contente de les baptiser en bloc, en braquant
sur eux, la pompe à incendie. Finalement, à bord, personne n’eut un fil
de sec.

Le soir, quelques jeunes soldats, qui avaient fait partie d’une troupe de
comédiens ambulants, nous jouèrent, avec assez de goût, une petite pièce
intitulée: Le Savetier et le Financier. La fête se termina par un bal, au se
prolongea, jusqu'à minuit, sous un ciel d’une idéale sérénité.

(Christophe Paulin de la Poix, chevalier de Fréminville. Mémoires du
. . . capitaine des fregates du Roi. Edited by E. Herpin. Bibliothèque
de la revolution et de l'empire. Paris, 1913. v. 7, p. 104-7.)

Another account by de Fréminville is given above under 1802.

August 12th — On Monday, the 12th, we crossed the equator, in long. 26°
49’ w. Agreeably to ancient usage on such occasions, we were honoured by a
visit from Father Neptune, who courteously bid us welcome into the southern
hemisphere; in return for which civility, his health was drunk, if not in am-
brosial nectar, at least in beverage which sailors are quite as fond of. The
usual ceremony of shaving and ducking the novitiates was then performed
with the customary solemnities, consecrated by copious libations. Having by
these indispensable rites propitiated the favour of our tutelar deity, he most
graciously took his leave, wishing us a prosperous voyage. We therefore
advanced with confidence into the southern section of his realm.

(Benjamin Morrell. A narrative of four voyages to the South Sea. .
from the year 1822 to 1831. New York, 1832.)

This, the first of the four voyages, seems the only one thus honored.

1823

On the 11th of October we crossed the Equator, at twenty-five degrees west
longitude, reckoning from Greenwich. Having saluted the southern hemis-
phere by the firing of guns, our crew proceeded to enact the usual cere-
monies. A sailor, who took pride in having frequently passed the line,
directed the performance with much solemnity and decorum. He appeared
as Neptune, attired in a manner that was meant to be terribly imposing,
accompanied by his consort, seated on a gun-carriage instead of a shell,
drawn by negroes, as substitutes for tritons. In the evening the sailors repre-
sented, amidst general applause, a comedy of their own composition. These
sports, while they serve to keep up the spirits of the men, and make them

The Nineteenth Century 119

forget the difficulties they have to go through, produce also the most bene-
ficial influence upon their health: a cheerful man being much more capable
of resisting a fit of sickness than a melancholy one. It is the duty of com-
manders to use every innocent means of maintaining this temper in their
crews; for, in long voyages, when they are several months together wander-
ing on an element not destined by nature for the residence of man, without
enjoying even occasionally the recreations of the land, the mind naturally
tends to melancholy, which of itself lays the foundation of many diseases,
and sometimes even of insanity. Diversion is often the best medicine, and
used as a preservative, seldom fails of its effect.

(Otto von Kotzebue. A new voyage round the world, in the years 1823,
24, 25. London, 1830. p. 25-26.)

Was the “comedy of their own composition” put on by the sailors a formal bit of drama or
merely a continuation of the performances done by Neptune and his followers? Note that in this
celebration by sailors from Muscovy, the frozen north, we find none of the chattering and shiver-
ing staged by men from more southern regions. Kotzebue tells of no trouble in knowing just
what to stage or how to put it over.

An earlier crossing is noted under 1815. This 1823 report is quoted in full by Robert
Fitz-Roi in his Narrative of the surveying voyages of His Majesty’s Ships Adventure and Beagle,
noted later under 1832.

At the crossing from the Northern into the Southern hemisphere [on Janu-
ary 8, 1823, presumably new style], the seamen were amusing themselves
by bathing in a tub representing Neptune’s chariot which was placed on a
gun-carriage and pulled by his courtiers.

In order to make this sailor holiday more entertaining, I had previously
ordered to prepare for it. They were given paint, flags and everything that
would help to make the masquerade more magnificient. At the end, every-
one got some light punch, and while they were imbibing it, some of them
remembered the Muses. Dancing and various games kept them entertained
during the entire pleasant evening.

(Plavaniye vokrug sveta na shlyupke Ladoge v 1822, 1823 i 1824 godakh

. . . Sankt-Peterburg, 1832. p. 12-14.) Voyage around the world...
on the sloop Ladoga. Captain Andrei Lazarev.

The translation was made by Dr. Avrahm Yarmolinsky.

1826

[20 July 1826] Nous avons passé la ligne entre trois et quatre heures du
matin. L’equipage a célébré joyeusement la fête du baptême, et, malgré
quelques libations assez copieuses de la part de certains individus, il n’y a
eu ni querelle ni tumulte.

(Jules Sébastien César Dumont D’Urville. Voyage de la Corvette
L’Astrolabe. Paris, 1830-35. v. 1, p. 65-66.)

The text has a vignette illustration. Let’s hope the happy celebration of the féte du baptéme
was in ratio inverse to the space given to telling about it.

120 Crossing the Line

1828

Avec un jeune capitaine de trente ans, tu devines bien que le passage de la
ligne ne se fair pas sans toutes les cérémonies accoutumées. Un matelot (le
plus mauvais sujet de tous, et de Yair le plus bénoit) nous a dit la messe
(une messe de sa façon) en surplis d'occasion, sur une autel de circonstance.
Il a fait le prône le plus risible, puis les non-initiés ont été gravement rasés
avec un rasoir de quatre pieds de long, et, entre les mains du père La Ligne,
ils ont juré de ne point coucher avec la femme d’un matelot, et ils ont donné
dix francs pour la peine. Cela fait, l'état-major, entre soi sur l'arrière, l’'équi-
page sur le devant, se sont jeté pendant une heure des sceaux d’eau à la
figure; la pompe à incendie a même joué avec succès pour tremper au haut
des mats les fuyards qui s'étaient sauvés de la mêlée. Puis nous sommes
tous descendus chez nous changer de ligne, et en remontant sur le pont, nous
avons trouvé toutes choses dans leur ordre accoutumé: la petite saturnale
d’auparavant n'avait laissé aucune trace.

(Victor Jacquemont. Correspondance de V. Jacquemont avec sa fa-
mille et plusieurs de ses amis pendant son voyage dans l'Inde (1828-
1832). Nouvelle édition augumentée de lettres inédites et accompagnée
d’une carte. Paris, 1841. p. 21.)

The entry is dated “Samedi 18 oct 1828 aust. 6°, longit. occid. 29°.” No objection this time to
the saying of mass, even “un messe de sa façon. After leaving Teneriffe the year before and cross-
ing to St. Dominique with calms and heavy contrary winds, this passage “traversé au galop” was
quite different. Jacquemont had four adventurous years overseas, was forced home by ill health,
told his tale with real interest and attraction.

1829

I should have informed my reader that our orders were to see the East India
convoy as far as the tenth degree of north latitude, and then proceed to
Bermuda. This was of itself a pleasant cruise, and gave us the chance of
falling in either with an enemy or a recapture. Ships not intending to cross
the line usually grant a saturnalia to the crew when they come to the tropic
of Capricorn; it is thought to renovate their spirits, and to break the monotony
of the cruise or voyage, where time flows on in such a smooth, undeviating
routine, that one day is not distinguishable from another. Our captain, a
young man, and a perfect gentleman, never refused any indulgence to the
men compatible with discipline and the safety of the ship; and as the regular
trade-wind blew, there was no danger of sudden squalls. The ceremony of
crossing the line, I am aware, has been often described — so has Italy and
the Rhine; but there are varieties of ways of doing and relating these things;
ours had its singularity, and ended, I am sorry to say, in a deep tragedy,
which I shall remember “as long as memory holds her seat.”

One beautiful morning, as soon as the people had breakfasted, they began
to prepare, by stripping to their waists, and wearing nothing but a pair of
duck trousers. The man at the mast-head called out that he saw something on

The Nineteenth Century 121

the weather-bow, which he thought was a boat; soon after, an unknown voice
from the jib-boom hailed the ship; the officer of the watch answered; and
the voice commanded him to heave to, as Neptune was coming on board.
The ship was accordingly hove to with every formality, though going at the
rate of seven miles an hour; the main-yard squared, the head and after-yards
braced up.

As soon as the ship was hove to, a young man (one of the sailors) dressed
in a smart suit of black, knee-breeches, and buckles, with his hair powdered,
and with all the extra finery and mincing gait of an exquisite, came aft on the
quarter-deck, and with a most polished bow, took the liberty of introducing
himself as gentleman’s gentleman to Mr. Neptune, who had been desired
to precede his master and acquaint the commander of the vessel with his
intended visit.

A sail had been extended across the forecastle by way of curtain, and from
behind this Neptune and his train, in full costume, shortly afterwards came
forth.

The car of the god consisted of a gun-carriage: it was drawn by six black
men, part of the ship’s crew; they were tall muscular fellows, their heads
covered with sea-weed, and they wore a very small pair of cotton drawers;
in other respects they were perfectly naked; their skins were spotted all over
with red and white paint alternately; they had conch-shells in their hands,
with which they made a most horrible noise. Neptune was masked, as were
many of his attendants, and none of the officers knew exactly by which
of the men the god was represented; but he was a shrewd hand, and did his
part very well. He wore a naval crown, made by the ship’s armourer; in his
right hand he held a trident, on the prongs of which there was a dolphin,
which he had, he said, struck that morning; he wore a large wig made of
oakum, and a beard of the same materials, which flowed down to his waist:
he was full powdered, and his naked body was bedaubed with paint.

The god was attended by a splendid court; his secretary of state, whose
head was stuck full of the quills of the sea bird of these latitudes; his surgeon,
with his lancet, pill-box, and his smelling-bottle; his barber, with a razor,
whose blade was two feet long, cut off an iron hoop; and the barber's mate,
who carried a small tub as a shaving-box; the materials within I could not
analyse, but my nose convinced me that no part of them came from Smith’s
in Bond Street.

Amphitrite followed on a similar carriage, drawn by six white men whose
costume was like the others. This goddess was personified by an athletic
ugly man marked with the small-pox, dressed as a female, with a woman’s
nightcap on his head, ornamented with sprigs of sea-weed; she had a harpoon
in her hand, on which was fixed an albicore; and in her lap lay one of the
boys of the ship, dressed as a baby, with long clothes and a cap; he held in
his hand a marlinspike, which was suspended round his neck with a rope
yarn — this was to assist him in cutting his teeth, as the children on shore

122 Crossing the Line
1829, continued

use a coral. His nurse attended him with a bucket full of burgoo or hasty
pudding, with which she occasionally fed him out of the cook’s iron ladle.
Two or three stout men were habited as sea nymphs, to attend on the goddess;
they carried a looking-glass, some curry-combs, a birch-broom, and a pot of
red paint, by way of rouge.

As soon as the procession appeared on the forecastle, the captain, attended
by his steward bearing a tray with a bottle of wine and some glasses, came
out of his cabin, and the cars of the marine deities were drawn up on the
quarter-deck. Neptune lowered his trident, and presented the dolphin to the
captain, as Amphitrite did her albicore, in token of submission and homage
to the representative of the King of Great Britain.

“I have come,” said the god, “to welcome you into my dominions, and to
present my wife and child.” The captain bowed. “Allow me to ask after my
brother and liege sovereign, the good old King George.”

“He is not so well,” said the captain, “as I and all his subjects could wish.”

“More's the pity,” replied Neptune; “and how is the Prince of Wales?”

“The Prince is well,” said the captain, “and now governs as regent in the
name of his royal father.”

“And how does he get on with his wife?” said the inquisitive god.

“Bad enough,” said the captain; “they agree together like a whale and a
thrasher.”

“Ah! I thought so,” said the god of the sea. “His royal highness should take
a leaf out of my book: never allow it to be doubtful who is the commanding
officer.”

“And pray what might your majesty’s specific be, to cure a bad wife?”
said the captain.

“Three feet of the cross-jack brace every morning before breakfast, for a
quarter of an hour, and half-an-hour on a Sunday.”

“But why more on a Sunday than any other day?” said the captain.

“Why?” said Neptune. “Why, because she’d been keeping Saturday night,
to be sure; besides, she has less to do of a Sunday, and more time to think of
her sins and do penance.”

“But you would not have a prince strike a lady, surely?”

“Wouldn’t I? No, to be sure, if she behave herself as sich, on no account;
but if she gives tongue and won't keep sober, I'd sarve her as I do Amphy —
don’t I, Amphy?” chucking the goddess under the chin. “We have no bad
- wives in the bottom of the sea; and so if you don’t know how to keep ‘em in
order, send them to us.”

“But your majesty’s remedy is violent; we should have a rebellion in Eng-
land if the king was to beat his wife.”

“Make the lords in waiting do it, then,” said the surly god; “and if they
are too lazy, which J dare say they are, send for a boatswain’s mate from the
Royal Billy — he’d sarve her out, I warrant you, and for half a gallon of rum

The Nineteenth Century 123

would teach the yeoman of the guard to dance the binnacle horn-pipe into
the bargain.”

“His royal highness shall certainly hear your advice, Mr. Neptune; but
whether he will follow it or not, is not for me to say. Would you please to
drink his royal highness’s good health?”

“With all my heart, sir; I was always loyal to my king, and ready to drink
his health, and to fight for him.”

The captain presented the god with a bumper of Madeira, and another to
the goddess.

“Here’s a good health and a long life to our gracious king and all the royal
family. The roads are unkimmon dusty, and we havn't wet our lips since we
left St. Thomas on the line, this morning. But we have no time to lose, captain,”
said the sea god; I see many new faces here as requires washing and shaving;
and if we add bleeding and physic, they will be all the better for it.”

The captain nodded assent; and Neptune, striking the deck with the end of
his trident, commanded attention, and thus addressed his court: “Hark ye,
my Tritons, you are called here to shave, duck, and physic all as needs; but
I command you to be gentle. I'll have no ill-usage; if we gets a bad name, we
gets no more fees; and the first of you as disobeys my orders, I'll tie him to a
ten-inch mortar, and sink him ten thousand fathoms deep in the ocean, where
he shall feed on salt water and sea-weed for a hundred years: begone to
your work.” Twelve constables, with thick sticks, immediately repaired to
the hatchway, and sent down all who had not been initiated, guarding them
strictly until they were called up one by one.

The cow-pen had been previously prepared for the bathing; it was lined
with double canvas, and boarded, so that it held water, and contained about
four butts, which was constantly renewed by the pump. Many of the officers
purchased exemption from shaving and physic by a bottle of rum; but none
could escape the sprinkling of salt water, which fell about in great profusion;
even the captain received his share, but with great good nature, and seemed
to enjoy the sport. It was easy to perceive, on this occasion, who were
favourites with the ship’s company by the degree of severity with which
they were treated. The tyro was seated on the side of the cow-pen: he was
asked the place of his nativity, and the moment he opened his mouth, the
shaving-brush of the barber, which was a very large paint-brush, was
crammed in, with all the filthy lather, with which they covered his face and
chin; this was roughly scraped off with the great razor. The doctor felt his
pulse, and prescribed a pill, which was forced into his cheek; and the smelling-
bottle, the cork of which was armed with short points of pins, was so forcibly
applied to his nose as to bring blood; after this he was thrown backwards
into the bath, and allowed to scramble out the best way he could.

The master-at-arms and ship’s corporals and purser’s steward were severely
treated. The midshipmen looked out for the first lieutenant; but he kept so
close under the wing of the captain, that for a long time we were unable to
succeed. At length some great uproar in the waist induced him to run down,

124 Crossing the Line
1829, continued

when we all surrounded him, and plied him so effectually with buckets of
water, that he was glad to run down the after-hatchway, and seek shelter in
the gun-room; as he ran down, we threw buckets after him, and he fell, like
the Roman virgin, covered with the shields of the soldiers.

The purser had fortified himself in his cabin, and with his sword and
pistols vowed vengeance against all intruders; but the middies were not
to be frightened with swords or pistols: so we had him out, and gave him
a sound ducking, because he had refused to let us have more spirits than our
allowance. He was paraded to the main-deck in great form, his sword held
over his head; his pistols, in a bucket of water, carried before him; and having
been duly shaved, physicked, and soused into the cow-pen, he was allowed
to return to his cabin like a drowned rat.

The first lieutenant of marines was a great bore; he was always annoying
us with his German flute. Having no ear of his own, he had no mercy on ours,
so we handed him to the bath; and in addition to all the other luxuries of
the day, made him drink half a pint of salt water, which we poured into his
mouth through his own flute, as a funnel. I now recollect that it was the
cries of the poor marine which brought down the first lieutenant, who
ordered us to desist, and we served him as hath been related.

(Frederick Marryat. Frank Mildmay: or, The naval officer. Chapter 12.
p- 141-146 of the Illustrated Sterling Edition. Boston and New York:
Dana Estes & Company. The date of the Introduction by W. L. Courtney
is 1896.)

Reference to “the good old King George” and the Prince Regent (1811) fixes the general
date of the story, but it seems just as well to set it here under 1829, the date of publication of this
first of Marryat’s many stories that have held so many of us, young whether in spirit or years.

The “deep tragedy,” so long to be remembered by Mildmay has nothing to do with our part of
the story: man overboard, Mildmay trying to save him in vain, nearly devoured by sharks,
and so on.

1831

October 29. A beautiful day, dined at 5 o’clock with Gun-room officers. They
amused themselves with giving most terrific accounts of what Neptune would
do with me on crossing the Equator. Mr. Earl mentioned that some years ago
when after having crossed the Line they fell in with a ship all her sails set.
Not a man could they see on deck, but on boarding her & going below they
found every body, even the Captain & his wife, so very drunk that they could
not move. They had been making merry after Neptune’s revels.

(Charles Darwin’s Diary of the Voyage of H.M.S. “Beagle” edited from
the MS by Nora Barlow. Cambridge: at the University Press, 1934. p. 5.)
1832

A Man Oversoarp! The strange and almost savage ceremonies used at sea on
crossing the equator have been so often described that a voyager, at this time

The Nineteenth Century 125

of day, may be well excused for omitting any minute account of such wild
proceedings. The whole affair, indeed, is preposterous in its conception, and,
I must say, brutal in its execution. N otwithstanding all this, however, I have
not only permitted it to go on in ships which I commanded, but have even
encouraged it, and set it agoing, when the men themselves were in doubt.
Its evil is transient if any evil there be, while it certainly affords Jack a topic
for a month beforehand and a fortnight afterwards; and if so ordered as to
keep its monstrosities within the limits of strict discipline, which is easy
enough, it may even be made to add to the authority of the officers, instead
of weakening their influence.

In a well-regulated ship, within one hour from the time when these scenes
of riot are at their height, order is restored, the decks are washed and swabbed
up, the wet things are hung on the clothes’ lines between the masts to dry;
and the men, dressed in clean trousers and duck frocks, are assembled at
their guns for muster, as soberly and sedately as if nothing had happened to
discompose the decorous propriety of the ship’s discipline. The middies, in
like manner, may safely be allowed to have their own share of this rough fun,
provided they keep as clear of their immediate superiors as the ship’s com-
pany keep clear of the young gentlemen. And I must do the population of
the cockpit the justice to say, that, when they fairly set about it, maugre their
gentleman-like habits, aristocratical sprinklings, and the march of intellect
to boot, they do contrive to come pretty near to the honest folks before the
mast in the article of ingenious ferocity. The captain, of course, and, generally
speaking, all the officers keep quite aloof, pocketing up their dignity with
vast care, and ready, at amoment’s warning, to repress any undue familiarity.
As things proceed, however, one or two of the officers may possibly become
so much interested in the skylarking scenes going forward as to approach a
little too near, and laugh a little too loud, consistently with the preservation
of the dignity of which they were so uncommonly chary at first starting. It
cannot be expected, and indeed is not required, that the chief actors in these
wild gambols, stripped to the buff, and shying buckets of water at one another,
should be confined within very narrow limits in their game. Accordingly,
some mount the rigging to shower down their cascades, while others squirt
the fire-engine from unseen corners upon the head of the unsuspecting passer-
by. And if it so chances (I say chances) that any one of the “commissioned
nobs” of the ship shall come in the way of these explosions, it is served out to
him like a thunder-storm, “all accidentally,” of course. Well; what is he to do?
He feels that he has indiscreetly trusted himself too far; and even if he has
not actually passed the prescribed line, still he was much too near it, and the
offence is perhaps unintentional. At all events, it is of too trifling a nature;
and, under the peculiar circumstances of the moment, to make a complaint
to the captain would be ridiculous. Having, therefore, got his jacket well
wet, and seeing the ready means of revenging himself in kind, he snatches
up a bucket, and, forgetting his dignity, hurls the contents in the face of the

126 Crossing the Line

1832, continued

mid who has given him a sousing but two seconds before! From that moment
his commission goes for nothing, and he becomes, for the time being, one of
the biggest Billy-boys amongst them. The captain observing him in this
mess, shrugs his shoulders, walks aft, muttering, “It’s all your own fault, Mr.
Hailtop; you've put yourself amongst these mad younkers; now see how they ll
handle you!”

Nothing, I confess, now looks to me more completely out of character with
our well-starched discipline than a “staid lieutenant” romping about the
booms, skulling up the rigging, blowing the grampus, and having it blown
upon him by a parcel of rattlepated reefers. But I remember well in the Volage
being myself so gradually seduced by this animating spectacle of fun, that, be-
fore I knew where I was, I had crossed the rope laid on the deck as a boundary
between order and disorder, and received a bucket of cold water in each ear,
while the spout of a fire-engine, at the distance of two feet, was playing full
in my eyes. On turning my head round to escape these cataracts, and to draw
breath, a tar-brush was rammed half-way down my throat!

Far different was the scene, and very different, of course, my deportment,
four or five years afterwards on the same spot, when, instead of being the
junior lieutenant, I was the great gun of all, the mighty master-nob of the
whole party, that is to say, the captain himself. I was then in command of the
Lyra, a ten-gun sloop-of-war; and after the shaving operations were over,
and all things put once more in order, I went on board the Alceste frigate to
dine with my excellent friend and commanding officer, the late Sir Murray
Maxwell. Lord Amherst, the ambassador to China, was on board, and in great
glee with the sight of what had been enacted before him; for although, as I
have always said, these scenes are not of a nature to bear agreeable descrip-
tion, they certainly are amusing enough to see — for once.

We soon sat down to dinner; and there was, of course, a great deal of
amusement in telling the anecdotes of the day, and describing Father Nep-
tune’s strange aspect, and his still stranger-looking family and attendants. I
ventured to back one of my figures against all or any of theirs, if not for mon-
strosity, at least for interest of another kind. Our dripping Neptune in the
Lyra was accompanied, as usual, by a huge she-monster representing Am-
phitrite, being no other than one of the boatswain’s mates dressed up with
the main-hatchway tarpaulin for a cloak, the jolly-boat’s mizen for a petticoat,
while two half-wet swabs furnished her lubberly head with ringlets. By her
side sat a youth, her only son Triton, a morsel of submarine domestic history
ascertained by reference previously made to Lempriere’s Dictionary. This
poor little fellow was a great pet amongst the crew of the brig, and was in-
deed suspected to be entitled by birth to a rank above his present station,
so gentle and gentleman-like he always appeared. Even on this occasion, when
disfigured by paint, pitch, and tar, copiously daubed over his delicate person,

The Nineteenth Century 127

to render him fit company for his papa old Neptune, he still looked as if his
ill-favoured parents had stolen him, and were trying in vain to disguise their
roguery by rigging him up in their own gipsy apparel.

It was very nearly dark when I rowed back to the Lyra, which had been
hanging for the last half hour on the frigate’s weather-quarter, at the distance
of a cable’s length, watching for my return. The wind was so light, and the
brig so close, that no signal was made to heave to; indeed I had scarcely
rowed under the Alceste’s stern, on my way back, before it was necessary to
call out, “In bow!” The rattle of the oar on the thwarts gave the earliest notice
of my approach to the people on board the little vessel, and I could hear the
first lieutenant exclaim in haste, “Attend the side! Where are the sides-men?”

Scarcely had these words been spoken, when I heard a splash in the water,
followed by a faint cry of distress and despair. In the next instant the brig
was hove about, and the stern-boat lowered down, accompanied by all the
hurried symptoms of a man having fallen overboard. I made the people in
the boat tug at their oars towards the spot; but though we pulled over and
over the ship’s wake twenty times, the water was everywhere unruflled and
unmarked by any speck. At length I rowed on board, turned the hands up to
muster, to ascertain who was gone, and found all present but our poor little
Triton! It appeared that the lad, who was one of the sides-men, fatigued
with the day’s amusement, had stretched himself in the fore-part of the
quarter-deck hammock-netting, and gone to sleep. The sharp voice of the
officer, on seeing the gig almost alongside, had roused the unhappy boy too
suddenly; he quite forgot where he was, and instead of jumping in-board,
plunged into the sea, never to rise again!

There are few accidents more frequent at sea than that of a man falling
overboard; and yet, strange to say, whenever it happens, it takes every one
as completely by surprise as if such a thing had never occurred before. What
is still more unaccountable, and, I must say, altogether inexcusable, is the
fact of such an incident invariably exciting a certain degree of confusion,
even in well-regulated ships. Whenever I have witnessed the tumultuous
rush of the people from below, their eagerness to crowd into the boats, and
the reckless devotion with which they fling themselves into the water to save
their companions, I could not help thinking that it was no small disgrace to
us, to whose hands the whole arrangements of discipline are confided, that
we had not yet fallen upon any method of availing ourselves to good purpose
of so much generous activity.

Sailors are men of rough habits, but their feelings are not by any means
coarse; and, generally speaking, they are much attached to one another, and
will make great sacrifices to their messmates or shipmates when opportunities
occur. A very little address on the part of the officers, as I have before hinted,
will secure an extension of these kindly sentiments to the quarter-deck. But
what I was alluding to just now was the cordiality of the friendships which
spring up between the sailors themselves, who, it must be recollected, have

128 Crossing the Line
1832, continued

no other society, and all, or almost all, whose ordinary social ties have been
broken either by the chances of war, or by the very nature of their roving
and desultory life, which carries them they really know not where, and there-

fore care not wherefore.

(Basil Hall. The Lieutenant and Commander; being autobiographical
sketches of his own career, from Fragments of voyages and travels.
London, 1862. p. 112-118.)

Hall says nothing about the ceremony in his reports on his voyages to the west coast of South
and North America or to China, holding his comments until this review of his life at sea. This
account was first published in his Fragments of voyages and travels, Edinburgh, 1882, ser. 2, v. 1,
but the variant text as it appeared in The lieutenant and commander is printed here.

[16 February 1832] At sunset that day we were out of sight of St. Paul (or
St. Peter), and soon after dark were hailed by the gruff voice of a pseudo-
Neptune. A few credulous novices ran upon the forecastle to see Neptune and
his car, and were received with the watery honours which it is customary to
bestow, on such occasions.

Next morning we crossed the Equator, and the usual ceremonies were
performed.

Deep was the bath, to wash away all ill;

Notched was the razor — of bitter taste the pill.

Most ruffianly the barber looked — his comb was trebly nailed —
And water, dashed from every side, the neophyte assailed.

The disagreeable practice alluded to has been permitted in most ships,
because sanctioned by time; and though many condemn it as an absurd
and dangerous piece of folly, it has also many advocates. Perhaps it is one
of those amusements, of which the omission might be regretted. Its effects
on the minds of those engaged in preparing for its mummeries, who enjoy
it at the time, and talk of it long afterwards, cannot easily be judged of with-
out being an eye-witness.

During the early ages of navigation, before the invention of the compass,
somewhat similar, though really ceremonious rites were observed in Spanish,
Portuguese, and Italian vessels, when they passed the more remarkable
promontories then known. A modern voyager, Kotzebue, notices this subject
in a manner which appears to me so sensible, that I shall quote his words
without affecting to add another remark. [Then follows the passage from
Otto von Kotzebue’s A new voyage round the world already entered here
under 1823 and needing no repetition. |

(Robert Fitz-Roi. Narrative of the surveying voyages of his majesty’s
ships Adventure and Beagle, between the years 1826 and 1836. London,
1839. v. 2, p. 57-58.)

The Nineteenth Century 129

Robert Fitz-Roi, an Admiral when he died, ranks high as a British seaman, navigator, hydrog-
rapher, meteorologist. His story of the crossing in 1832 has plenty of interest in itself. Moreover
it brings Kotzebue into the picture and shows how closely Fitz-Roi kept in touch with other
seamen of his day. For our particular interest we hear too from him that “during the early ages
of navigation, before the invention of the compass, somewhat similar, though really ceremonious,
rites were observed in Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian vessels, when they passed the more
remarkable promontories then known.”

Independent and later study of the whole problem leads to much the same belief, though here
one may be forgiven for wishing Fitz-Roi had told us just what he based this on. Was it current
and accepted tradition in his day? Was it a bit of sealore known to every thinking Jack Tar? Did
it go back to some forgotten or not mentioned firsthand story?

Volume two of the set of three comes from Fitz-Roi as noted above. Volume three has half
title reading: “Journal and Remarks, 1832-1836, By Charles Darwin, Esq., M.A., Sec. Geol. Soc.”
Its text is fascinating, charming, amazing as it shows this ship’s naturalist reveling in the tropical
landscape, carefully noting the geology, the organic life in all its forms, a decidedly revealing
demonstration of mental alertness, power of observation and also of expression, accurate and
comprehensive. Remember that Darwin had reached the mature age of twenty-three when he
sailed in 1832, was thirty when he saw the record published in 1839. His preface notes that “The
present volume contains in the form of a journal, a sketch of those observations in Geology and
Natural History which I thought would possess some general interest.” The text shows that he
hewed strictly to the line, felt evidently that mention of so frivolous an affair as the visit of
Father Neptune would be out of place. Just about a century later we hear, however, that he
did note it all in his diary, edited by Nora Barlow and published in 1933.

10th. [January, 1832] We crossed the Tropic this morning; if our route did
not extend further, Neptune would here celebrate the aweful ceremonies
of the Equator....

February 14th. To day at noon we were 150 miles from the Equator, & have
experienced the weather which is so frequent in these regions. . . .

Every one is alive with the anticipation about Neptune’s appearance, & I
hear of nothing but razors sharpened with a file & a lather made of paint
& tar, to be used by the gentlest valet de chambre.
15th. In the evening the ceremonies for crossing the line commenced. The
officer on watch reported a boat ahead. The Captain turned “hands up,
shorten sail,” and we heaved to in order to converse with Mr. Neptune. The
Captain held a conversation with him through a speaking trumpet, the result
of which was that he would in the morning pay us a visit.

February 17th. We have crossed the Equator, & I have undergone the dis-
agreeable operation of being shaved. About 9 o'clock this morning we poor
“griffins,” two & thirty in number, were put altogether on the lower deck.
The hatchways were battened down, so we were in the dark & very hot.
Presently four of Neptune’s constables came to us, & one by one led us up
on deck. I was the first & escaped easily: I nevertheless found this watery
ordeal sufficiently disagreeable. Before coming up, the constable blindfolded
me & thus lead along, buckets of water were thundered all around; I was
then placed on a plank, which could be easily tilted up into a large bath of
water. They then lathered my face & mouth with pitch & paint, & scraped
some of it off with a piece of roughened iron hoop: a signal being given I was
tilted head over heels into the water, where two men received me & ducked
me. At last, glad enough, I escaped: most of the others were treated much

130 Crossing the Line
1832, continued

worse: dirty mixtures being put in their mouths & rubbed on their faces.
The whole ship was a shower bath, & water was flying about in every direc-
tion: of course not one person, even the Captain, got clear of being wet
through.
(Charles Darwin. Diary of the voyage of H.M.S. “Beagle,” edited from
the ms. by Nora Barlow. Cambridge, 1933. p. 22, 35-6, 38.)
On the 26th of February as they were sailing down the coast toward Bahia, Darwin wrote
to his father:
Since writing the first part of the letter, nothing has occured except
crossing the Equator and being shaved. This most disagreeable
operation consists in having your face rubbed with paint and tar,
which forms a lather for a saw which represents the razor, and then
being half drowned in a sail filled with salt water.

1832-36

Les nautonniers de la Bretagne sont dans l'usage de baptiser celui qui passe
pour la première fois une rivière, un bras de mer, à moins qu'il ne se rachète
par de l'argent.
(François Marie Guillaume Habasque. Notions sur le littoral des Côtes-
du-Nord. Saint Brieue, 1832-36. v. 3, p. 147. Reprinted in: Mélusine, v. 2,
column 452 (1884-5).)

1833

[1833, after June and before October] On the fourth day the captain came
aboard and we resumed our voyage. Touching St. Iago, one of the Cape
De Verde Islands, we crossed the equator in longitude 25 degrees west.

ADVENTURES WITH NEPTUNE ON THE LINE

As we approached the equator some of the boys were sent aloft to “see
the line.” One reported that he saw “a blue streak” but was “not quite sure.”
That evening Old Neptune came on board to pay his respects to his chil-
dren who were crossing the equator for the first time. All the sailors who
had never before crossed the line were assembled on deck amidships. The
second mate, who plays the part of Neptune, takes his stand in the mizzen
chains, concealed from view, and in a deep voice cries, “Ship, ahoy!” “Halloo!”
responds the mate. “Heave to and let me come aboard!” says Neptune. “Hard
a lee!” orders the mate, and the ship is brought to the wind and Neptune is
seen climbing in over the rail. He accosts the mate and inquires if there are
any of his boys aboard the ship who have not been initiated.

Neptune wears an old monkey-jacket. His beard is made of Manila and
reaches to his waist. On his head is a sou’wester hat fitted for the occasion.
He looks more like Old Nick than Old Nep. The boys stand near the deck-tub

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The Nineteenth Century 131
which is filled with water. Neptune shakes hands with them all, telling

them that he must perform certain rites to initiate them into his family. Each
man is then required to stand in the tub of water and be shaved.

Tar and slush stirred together are used for lather, and a piece of iron hoop
six inches in length is used for a razor. The face being scraped the captain’s
speaking trumpet is brought and the victim is told to hail the ship. As he
puts it to his mouth and cries “Ship, ahoy!” a bucket of salt water is turned
down into the trumpet, drenching the poor fellow, much to the amusement
of the old sailors.

Having been told that I might escape the ordeal by treating Neptune, I
procured a bottle of brandy, gave him a drink, and was allowed to go free.
The ceremony being ended, Neptune took a solemn farewell of his children
and left the ship as he came. Some of the more verdant boys believed Nep-
tune really had visited them.

(Charles Wetherby Gelett. A life on the ocean; Autobiography of
Captain Charles Wetherby Gelett. Reprinted from the Ojai; a little
country California newspaper of the early 90s. With an introduction by
Lorrin A. Thurston. Honolulu, 1917. p. 10. The Advertiser Historical
Series, no. 3.)

1834

Wednesday, October Ist. Crossed the equator in long. 24 24 W. I now, for
the first time felt at liberty, according to the old usage, to call myself a son
of Neptune, and was very glad to be able to claim the title without the dis-
agreeable initiation which so many have to go through. After once crossing
the line you can never be subjected to the process, but are considered a son
of Neptune, with full powers to play tricks upon others. This ancient custom
is now seldom allowed, unless there are passengers on board, in which case
there is always a good deal of sport.

(Richard Henry Dana. Two years before the mast. Boston, 1840. p. 26.)

Friday, December 19th [1834], we crossed the equator for the second time.
I had the sense of incongruity which all have when, for the first time, they
find themselves living under an entire change of seasons; as, crossing the
line under a burning sun in the midst of December.

(Richard Henry Dana. Two years before the mast. Boston, 1911. p. 61.)

Every now and then we hear how “this ancient custom is now seldom allowed,” only to have
another example follow hard apace to show how the “ancient custom” refuses to die. A little later,
(Colton, under 1845) we shall read that it was abolished aboard our men 0’ war. There is added
in the note to Colton a bit of documentation about its ups and downs, its ons and offs in our Navy.

Remember in this connection how under 1823 we noted the Russian Kotzebue’s comment on
the ceremony: “These sports, while they serve to keep up the spirits of the men, and make them
forget the difficulties they have to go through, produce also the most beneficial influence upon
their health; a cheerful man being much more capable of resisting a fit of sickness than a melan-
choly one. It is the duty of commanders to use every innocent means of maintaining this temper
in their crews.”

132 Crossing the Line

1837-1842

Rien n’indique dans l’histoire de la marine ancienne quelle époque et quels
événemens ont pu donner naissance à cette saturnale, que nous ont léguée
les traditions maritimes. Est-ce la corruption de quelque cérémonie païenne,
sur laquelle le passage du catholicisme a laissé les lambeaux de ses rites
mystérieux? est-ce le culte profane d’une religion indécise, se rattachant à
un astre dont les bienfaits palpables ont motivé l’adoration? Les initiations
successives par lesquelles chaque époque a amené cette cérémonie burlesque,
ont peu à peu altéré ses formes. Les traits primitifs se sont effacés dans la
nuit des temps, semblables à ces monnaies antiques qui, en passant de main
en main, ont perdu leur millésime et leurs caractères.

Le choix des latitudes sous lesquelles la tradition a placé cette cérémonie
semble donner quelque poids à notre opinion, que le culte du soleil, ou tout
au moins un hommage et une admiration passagère pour l’astre des régions
torrides, est le point de départ de ces fêtes nautiques, auxquelles, à leur
passage dans ces latitudes, nos marins se cramponnent encore aujourd'hui,
comme à ces rares distractions que leur offre parcimonieusement leur mono-
tone existence. N’y a-t-il pas une liaison directe entre les croyances mytho-
logiques des anciens et les besoins qu'éprouvèrent les premiers navigateurs
grecs, de se rattacher par la foi à une puissance conservatrice, et par l'espé-
rance à la protection de quelque divinité? Les cérémonies de la ligne n’eta-
ient-elles point l'expression fervente de cette religion? Ceci est une des faces
de l'idée qui préside aux recherches qu'on essaie ici de faire sur l'origine des
fêtes équatoriales.

Maintenant, quel fl pourrait rattacher une burlesque mascarade, telle que
nous la voyons aujourd'hui, aux pratiques consciencieuses et sévères d'un
culte ou d’une croyance religieusel Établissons nettement notre opinion:

L'expérience du grand art de la marine ne s’est acquise qu'après bien des
catastrophes et bien des luttes avec les élémens; les moyens de s’abandonner
avec confiance à l'Océan et à ses tempêtes, de pauvres et timides qu'ils ont
été dans l'enfance de la navigation, ne se sont développés qu'en raison des
enseignemens de l'expérience, des progrès de l’art, des developpemens de la
science. Sans doute à cette première époque de tatonnemens et de timides
essais, passer d’un hémisphère dans l’autre était une courageuse tentative;
le besoin de se confier à une puissance protectrice, au moment où une mer
inconnue s’etendait devant eux, a du porter les anciens navigateurs à se
purifier par des ablutions et à consacrer un culte au soleil en passant dans les
régions qui sont les plus directement soumises à sa puissance. Mais à mesure
que la pratique de la navigation aura fécondé les leçons de l'expérience et
vulgarisé les moyens de triompher des événemens de mer, la pieuse céré-
monie aura perdu de son caractère primitif, et l'usage traditionnel nous est
arrivé altéré d'époque en époque, et, à mesure qu'il se rapprochait de notre
science nautique, il se convertissait en une simple distraction, bonne pour

The Nineteenth Century 133

remplir un jour dans les jours nombreux d’une occupation uniforme. N'ayant
plus rien à redouter des hasards d’une navigation lointaine, lorsque la pra-
tique et la science lui en dévoilaient les secrets, le marin a retiré sa foi de
toute protection surnaturelle, mais n’a pas voulu que le privilége de son
grade ou de son âge s étendit jusque sur ceux qui débutent ou ne font que
passer dans cette carriére, dont il a payé si cher les prérogatives. Dépouillée
de toute idée sérieuse, la cérémonie religieuse se sera convertie en comédie.
Le canevas se sera vu peu a peu recouvert par les capricieuses broderies
des détails.

Avec son origine voilé d’oubli, la fête de la ligne, telle que le temps en
nous lapportant nous l’a faite, est une mascarade dont pas un détail n’a
conservé un caractère sérieux. Comme aux fêtes de Saturne, elle enveloppe
dans sa folie d’un jour tous les rangs, tous les hommes, qui oublient leur
grade dans le laisser-aller général; plus de hiérarchie, plus de discipline;
chacun sévertue à enfanter mille extravagances; une idée bouffonne est
couronnée, les travestissemens se drapent et se griment sous le caprice des
imaginations les plus fertiles et les plus originales. Le matelot verse au dehors
toute sa sauvage poésie, les plus étranges esquisses se tracent et s’effacent
dans chaque partie du tableau. Quel malheur que les femmes, les cabarets et
ces mille délices du matelot à terre ne puissent l'aider à clore dignement
cette orgie de ses sens et de ses pensées! Comme sa tête, fermentant sous de
capricieux désirs, convertirait promptement la saturnale en une bacchanale
dévergondée! Que faire après rire et boire? L’amour de l'ivresse fait désirer
plus vivement l'ivresse de l'amour; il ne leur reste donc qu'à se battre,
lorsqu'ils ont épuisé toutes les ressources que laisse l'Océan. Puis vient la
fatigue qui engourdit leurs sens, et le réveil qui leur montre cette bruyante
journée confondue avec les rêves que l’exaltation de leur cerveau a tirés de
leur sommeil; la hiérarchie s’est rétablie; l’ordre efface le désordre, le bruit
de la veille s'est éteint dans le calme du lendemain. Cette fête a passé sur
les marins, comme le sillage du vaisseau sur la mer..........

La scène bouffonne que représente notre gravure appartient au second
acte de cette comédie traditionnelle, comédie qui fut d’abord un mystère
et qui s’est transformée peu à peu en représentation théâtrale; comédie fort
peu classique dans son plan comme dans ses détails, car le prologue joué la
veille en rompt l'unité de temps, comme le sillage du navire l'unité de lieu.
On nous a dit pourtant que certains officiers de la marine anglaise sacri-
fiaient vingt-quatre heures du temps précieux d’une bonne navigation, aux
plaisirs bachiques dont le passage de la ligne était pour eux le prétexte; les
voiles étaient en majeure partie serrées sur leurs vergues, afin de n’avoir nul
souci de la tempête; comme un grand oiseau fatigué, le navire reployait ses
ailes et se laissait indolemment balancer par la houle; l’orgie courait tous
les rangs, nivelait tous les grades, hébétait tous les sens; les chefs se mélaient
aux refrains des matelots, les matelots se mêlaient à l'aristocratie des chefs;
c'était une ivresse générale au milieu de laquelle le pouvoir, détourné de

134 Crossing the Line
1837-1842, continued

sa vraie source, tombait aux mains de celui qui criait le plus fort. Puis au
soir la chaleur de ces latitudes torrides, la fatigue d’une folle agitation,
l'épuisement des forces à grande peine galvanisées par Vexaltation fébrile
du vin, l'abattement enfin ployait tous ces corps dans un lourd et fatigant
sommeil. Pendant une nuit encore, le navire, que pas une volonté, pas une
intelligence n’animait, flottait comme un grand cadavre sur Yabime de
l'Océan, étrange théâtre de ces scènes déréglées. Les oiseaux de mer étonnés,
passaient, voltigeaient avec crainte autour du colosse endormi, puis, comme
vaincus par la curiosité, s’y posaient timidement sans reployer leurs ailes,
toujours prêtes à les enlever au large. Tout dormait. Un marin croira diffi-
cilement à de semblables extravagances de la part d’une grande nation mari-
time; comment penser qu'un navigateur enraie ainsi son navire pour s’as-
soupir dans l'orgiel La mer a des passions soudaines et terribles; son en-
gourdissement apparent n'est souvent qu'un court entr’acte à ses fureurs
et à ses orages. Dormir sur l'Océan sans une vigie attentive, bon Dieu! Il y
a bien des épaves dans un vaisseau, et la mer les entrechoquerait paisiblement
quelques heures après'les avoir furieusement détachés du pauvre navire.
On ne saurait croire, répétons-le, à un semblable usage de la navigation
anglaise; on nous l'a dit, nous le disons, parce que c'était ici la place d’ac-
cuser ces étranges choses. Comme les lecteurs, nous faisons nos réserves.

Sur nos navires, le baptéme tropical ou équatorial a considérablement
perdu de son importance et de son appareil. Ce n'est plus à vrai dire
aujourd’hui qu'une petite spéculation des marins de l'équipage, tolérée plus
qu'encouragée par les officiers, et qui a pour but d'obtenir des passagers
quelques gratifications que leur arrache la peur de ce baptême fantasma-
gorique, Ajoutons à cela que n’ayant pu encore complètement divorcer avec
cet usage, le commandant du navire est placé, par la tradition de cette fête,
dans l'obligation d'accorder une sorte de congé à son équipage, de lui faire
mesurer quelques rations de vin, de suspendre les travaux secondaires et de
détendre un peu les lignes démarcatives que trace la discipline. Le matelot
ajoute à tout ce qui lui est permis la liberté de faire tout ce qu’on ne lui défend
pas, et cette journée est encore aujourd'hui assez remplie, au milieu des jours
monotones qui, dans ces latitudes accablantes, se suivent et se ressemblent.
Comme les marins s’en occupent quelque temps à l'avance, et qu'elle laisse
des souvenirs qui survivent quelques jours à sa durée, cette fête est une
halte pour leur imagination trop inoccupée entre le départ et l’arrivée au
port: la tempête ne les distrait guèrel toutes les tempêtes se ressemblent,
la première qu'on a vue condamne les autres au plagiat à perpétuité.

La veille du jour où se passe la scène que retrace notre dessin, un courrier
est descendu, vers le soir, du haut de la mature; l'accoutrement de ce person-
nage est assez complet dans son ensemble; il porte une énorme cocarde tri-
colore sur son chapeau ciré, — ce qui, aujourd’hui, fait présumer que le dieu
des tropiques est amateur de la révolution de juillet: c’est possiblel — Il est

The Nineteenth Century 135

vêtu d’un frac bleuätre sur les coutures duquel on a faufilé de larges galons
de papier; il a des bottes de pêcheur, des éperons en cercle de barrique, un
fouet et une queue. La queue est en étoupe, le fouet est naturel.

On se range en cercle autour de lui, parce que la corde de son fouet décrit
un cercle qu'il serait dangereux de vouloir rétrécir. Il marche et s’avance
vers le chef du bâtiment, qui, prévenu de l’arrivée, par des régions incon-
nues, d’un courrier qui le demande, a subitement quitté sa chambre et s’est
gravement venu placer sur le gaillard-d’arriere. Le fouet s’est calmé, un mur
de têtes superposées s échelonne autour du messager de haut lieu, et chacun
écoute avidement ce qu'il va dire.

“Mon commandant! je viens d’ousque vous savez peut-être, vous annoncer
que mon maître, le vénérable sultan des Trois-Piques et de la ligne, a reluqué
votre frégate par le trou d’un nuage usé, et qu'il se bichonne pour s’affaler
dessus, demain à l'heure de sa commodité et de la vôtre, mon commandant;
c'est pourquoi que si vous vouleriez bien me dire ça que vous avez à lui dire
pour la chose, à seule fin. .…. qu'il saurait pour. ... pour que j luir&petasse....”

Les matelots ricanent.

cc . Da ee . >
Pour que je finissions. . . . pour que j descenderions. . . .
Les matelots rient aux éclats.

>

“Pour que mon patron et sa princesse. . . . Enfin suffit, mon commandant,
que j vois bien qu’ vous avez joliment compris la chose. . . . Congédiez-moi,
mon commandant, cam’ jugule q ce tas de mateluches-la m’embétent. .. .”

Le commandant, d’un coup-d ceil, impose silence à cette foule qu égayait
l'embarras du courrier des célestes régions, et répond mille politesses pour
le puissant dominateur des latitudes équatoriales; puis, ayant exprimé le
plaisir qu’il éprouverait à recevoir cette noble visite, il ordonne que le digne
messager soit convenablement traité à sa propre office, jusqu’à ce qu’il lui
plaise d’enfourcher son nuage et de porter à son auguste maître le résultat
de la démarche si glorieusement accomplie par l'éloquent postillon.

I] nen est plus question pour ce jour-là. Le messager s’envole dans la brume,
personne ne le voit partir. La nuit est belle et limpide comme dans ces
brillans parages; la brise faible, la mer indolente, la frégate peu hâtive.

Venons à la grande solennité, et, pour la décrire, transportons-nous en
idée sur la frégate où se trouvaient les originaux groupés par l'artiste:

Dès le matin, le soleil naissant encadra d’un cercle d’or le brillant miroir
dont la surface unie s’etendait jusqu’a l'horizon. Des nuages indécis de forme
et de marche tamisaient les rayons de l’astre qui, à mesure qu'il s'élevait,
trainait sur l'eau un sillon diamanté; les voiles de la frégate teignirent leur
molle superficie de la lumineuse réverbération de la mer et du ciel: la stagna-
tion de lair était complète: c’&tait un magnifique calme.

Il y avait à bord de cette frégate, qu'une mission appelait à Maurice, la
belle ile de nos regrets et de nos souvenirs, quelques passagers dont nous
équisserons brièvement les traits et le caractère.

Madame et mademoiselle Paturel.

136 Crossing the Line
1837-1842, continued

Madame Paturel, veuve d’un colonel tué à Waterloo. . . . Sa fille ne se rap-
pelle point son père dont on lui a pourtant montré le portrait; elle s'en rap-
porte en tout à sa mère, — laquelle a pour lieu commun: feu M. Paturel, ou
feu le colonel, lorsqu'un souvenir lui représente quelque acte de sa vie passée,
ou quelle juge à propos de rappeler à ceux qui l’approchent la distinction
d’une alliance qu'aux yeux de quelques personnes elle est bien faite pour
faire oublier.

Madame Paturel est courte, grasse et enluminée; elle est modiste par état.
Sa fille est grande, mince et assez chiffonnée; elle est modiste par vocation.

Ces deux dames possèdent des lettres de recommandation pour les élé-
gantes de Vile de France. Elles ont dans la cale de la frégate huit caisses dont
elles s'occupent beaucoup, comme de marchandises fort précieuses. — A
chaque changement de quart, la mère s’informe si l’eau ne les atteindra pas.
— Elle a plusieurs fois donné quelques sous à un pilotin pour s’assurer de
leur parfait arrimage. — On avait tout lieu de croire sur la frégate que ces
caisses contenaient de la toile gommée pour les gigots et des passes de
chapeaux de femme.

A un autre: M. Poirot.

Pacotilleur, ancien cuisinier de navire; bas de coton bleu, cols pointus,
cheveux clair-semés, souliers à boucles, nez au vent, rédingote de pinchina,
et jambes en manches des gaffe.

C'était un créole. Le créole porte beaucoup dhabits de pinchina et de
jambes greles. L'un et l'autre sont légers pour les chaleurs.

A une autre: mademoiselle Esther.

Robe de mérinos puce, passée à l'état chronique; cheveux noirs à ['Isabelle,
teint de limonadière, très-brillant au gaz ou à l'huile; vingt-six ans, bonne
fille, la jambe dure et le cœur tendre.

En plus, et sous son adoption directe, une petite fille de quatre à cinq ans,
assez pareille à ladite demoiselle Esther, mais qui n’est bien certainement
que sa nièce. Jamais le moindre colonel n’est mêlé par ses souvenirs aux con-
versations de la grande brune. Pas le plus petit mot non plus sur le but du
voyage. M. Poirot est d’une galanterie exagérée avec mademoiselle Esther,
et d’une patience modèle avec la petite, qui lui fait par jour mille espié-
gleries, que sa tante rachète par des sourires dont se paie le pacotilleur.

Tout ce monde-là a obtenu passage sur la frégate à divers titres. — Made-
moiselle Paturel était protégée par un lieutenant du bord, qui a sollicité
son embarquement: la mère s’est trouvée prise par-dessus le marché. —
M. Poirot est fournisseur adjoint des indigos de l’armée; il se rend à Calcutta.
— Mademoiselle Esther n’a pas trop justifié de ses titres. On dit que M. Poirot
s'est intéressé à son passage: c'est galant. — Enfin, le jour où nous prenons
la frégate était un splendide jour de ces chaudes régions. Les trois dames
étaient fort intriguées de la visite que leur avait faite le veille le postillon
aérien; c'était le theme duquel découlaient toutes les suppositions possibles

The Nineteenth Century 137

ou impossibles. — M. Poirot, souvent consulté, se rengorgeait dans un vani-
teux silence: l’indigotier avait déjà, dans ses voyages d’outremer, subi plus
dune épreuve tropicale. C'était la première fois pourtant qu'il traversait
l'équateur; mais, plein de confiance dans ses chevrons de navigation caraibe,
il sescomptait à l'avance le plaisir de voir les victimes d’une cérémonie à
laquelle il pensait bien devoir échapper. Les questions des dames n’enta-
maient donc pas.

Il y avait pourtant à bord du navire une certaine agitation dont la mono-
tonie habituelle de la route n’avait jusqu'ici donné nul exemple.

Il était pres de midi à l'horloge de la boussole. Les officiers, les élèves,
appuyés sur les bastingages ou sur les caronades du gaillard-d’arriere, s’oc-
cupaient, à l’aide de leurs instrumens de mathématiques, à observer la
hauteur méridienne du soleil. Les calculs approximatifs du matin faisaient
penser au commandant que le résultat des observations serait de trouver une
latitude nulle, signe certain du passage de la frégate par l'équateur.

Une brise chaude et molle balangait la voilure, qui battait par intervalles
inégaux contre les mats grinçans dans les jointures de leur échafaudage; la
mer, un peu houleuse, roulait par momens, contre le flanc du navire, des
lames sourdes qui, brisées par sa masse, se panachaient d’écume et retom-
baient en palettes brillantées par l'éclat de cette belle journée.

“Attrape huit! sonnez midil” cria aux timonniers de quart un officier su-
périeur qui tenait fixée à l'horizon la lunette de son sextant, d'un cuivre si
poli qu'il échangeait avec le soleil des rayons éblouissans.

La lourde cloche du gaillard-d’avant répéta les fréles tintemens de la
clochette de l'arrière; puis, se balangant à toute volée, elle frappa bruyam-
ment ses parois sonores de son infatigable marteau de fer. L'éveil fut donné
partout, jusqu'aux coins les plus reculés du navire, aux marins que Tinter-
valle de leur service avait permis de se livrer au repos sollicité par ces molles
températures. Les tintemens assourdissans de la cloche, plus émue ce jour-là
que de coutume, en annonçant le diner de l'équipage, parvinrent jusque dans
les chambres reculées des femmes qui, plus aiguillonnées par la curiosité que
retenues par la crainte, abandonnèrent leur sieste pour s’enquérir par elles-
mêmes du sujet de ce bruit innaccoutumé. Madame Paturel arréta un officier
qui traversait la batterie, pour sinformer si ses caisses n'étaient pas en
danger. . . . Mademoiselle sa fille grimpa rapidement le dernier escalier, où
se cramponnait déjà contre les mouvemens du roulis sa co-voyageuse Esther,
également poussée par la curiosité vers les ponts supérieurs de la frégate.

Mais arrivées à produire leurs têtes par l'ouverture, les deux filles s’ar-
rétérent; mademoiselle Paturel ne voulait pas monter la première, l’autre
non plus. Un élève était près d’elles; il reçut toutes leurs questions; dix ques-
tions à la fois, avec les commentaires pour complément.

L'élève apprit à ces demoiselles que l’on allait passer sous la ligne; cette
ligne dont il avait tant été parlé; cette ligne, la seule chose au monde sur

138 Crossing the Line
1837-1842, continued

laquelle se tit M. Poirot et dont l'événement de la veille avait réchauffé les
craintes et les apprehensions.

“Où donc est-elle, monsieur? dit l’une des filles, en s’élevant d’une marche
et en penchant son corps dans la direction d’un sabord voisin ouvert sur la
mer; peut-on la voir? Montons donc, mademoiselle, le navire ne remue

ASE

L'élève donna la main aux dames, les appuya contre le bastingage, et les
pria d'attendre qu'il eut apporté sa longue-vue.

La longue-vue tarda un peu, puis arriva enfin. Le jeune officier avait tendu
un fil noir sur son objectif, de manière à partager sa circonférence en deux
parties égales; lorsque l’on eut trouvé un point d’appui en rapport avec la
taille des deux curieuses, l'élève leur fit appliquer leur œil avide sur le petit
verre. Pleines d’une bruyante admiration, elles certifierent qu’elles voyaient
une magnifique ligne noire sur la surface bleue de la mer.

Il n’y eut plus à en douter: une foule de réflexions, que firent tout haut les
officiers groupés à l'arrière, convainquirent complètement les passageres;
elles se retirèrent rayonnantes de joie en se communiquant toutes leurs
pensées sur ce phénomène. L’une prétendait que le navire passerait dessus,
l'autre disait dessons. Elles descendirent en continuant cette polémique.

Le maitre d'équipage reçut alors les ordres du lieutenant en premier, qui
régla les appréts de la cérémonie, qu'il était nécessaire de préparer avec une
certaine pompe, en faveur des passagers et de quelques marins de l'équipage,
lesquels, pour la première fois, traversaient ces parages traditionnels.

Le diner des marins ne traina point en longueur. A peine fut-il achevé, que
les quartiersmaîtres se répandirent dans toutes les parties du bâtiment pour
veiller aux apprêts de la cérémonie. Maître Larack se multipliait dans la
transmission des ordres qui se croisaient en tous sens. Par ses soins, un écha-
faudage de barriques vides, étayées et surmontées de planches, s’adossa au
grand mât de la frégate. Les caissons de la timonnerie déroulèrent leurs
pavillons de mille couleurs, et un autel improvisé s’en enveloppa sur toutes
ses faces. Une tente en toile légère mit de l'ombre sur le sanctuaire réservé;
des faisceaux de piques, de haches d’armes, se groupèrent en rayons sur le
fond de l'autel; des cap-moutons, dans les trois trous desquels on planta les
bougies jaunes de la timonnerie, s’echelonnerent en candelabres sur les
marches élevées; deux tableaux empruntés à la cambuse s’adosserent à la
façade principale sur laquelle ils se détachaient: l’un représentant les abords
d'une barraque de théâtre forain; l’autre, le valeureux Don Quichotte de la
Manche pourfendant, aux ébahissemens de son admirable écuyer, un paisible
troupeau de moutons, converti en phalange de géans dans l'imagination du
preux amant de la dame du Toboso.

Les faces latérales de léchafaudage n'étaient pas moins heureuses en
décorations; c'était d’un goût tout-à-fait original. Deux mächoires de requin
avec des flammes d’embarcation qui en sortaient comme des langues tri-

The Nineteenth Century 139

colores; une queue de marsouin en éventail à moitié frite par le soleil; des
tapes de caronades avec leurs étoiles de cuivre, disposées çà et là, dans
l'ensemble, avec un tact très-sûr; puis, comme à la façade de l'édifice, des
tableaux à maigres bordures noires représentant les quatre parties du monde,
toutes personnifiées par un choix voluptueux dans le beau sexe d'Europe,
d'Asie, d'Afrique et d'Amérique; puis à droite et à gauche, sortant raide, de
derrière un cadre, se courbant sur la queue du marsouin, de brillantes plumes
d'oiseaux nuancées de toutes les couleurs qu'offrent les pierres précieuses;
des pipes en terre noircie appuyées sur les dents d’une mâchoire; des chaines
d'argent détachées des sifflets des maîtres, se festonnant sur toutes les
saillies; et mille autres choses toutes étrangères les unes aux autres, groupées,
superposées, clouées à l’envi sur cette étrange arabesque. Ajoutez encore
à droite et à gauche, dans les angles, au fronton, des faisceaux de sabres,
de pistolets, de baïonnettes brillantes; puis, sur les fonds, de capricieux
ornemens en papier découpé, attachés avec des épingles sur l'étamine des
pavillons, et enfin le barriolage des couleurs sur lesquelles tous ces acces-
soires ressortaient avec des physionomies si étonnantes, et en même temps
si étonnées. Représentez-vous tout cela et vous aurez une ébauche de cette
magnifique construction à l'ensemble de laquelle présida maitre Larack,
et dont chaque matelot enrichit les détails suivant son caprice, et la richesse
ou l'originalité de son imagination.

Sur le devant du grotesque autel, une cuve haute et large, sur laquelle
sétendait une planche d’une médiocre longueur, s'était mystérieusement
enveloppée dans un immense pavillon qui en déguisait presque la forme
sous ses plis nombreux. Cette cuve était un des principaux accessoires de
cette licencieuse parodie de religion, les fonts-baptismaux de la liturgie
matelotesque. On distinguait encore sur un des coins de l'autel plusieurs
ustensiles d'un usage effrayant et inconnu, tels qu'un énorme rasoir peint
avec des couleurs trompeuses, une assiette pleine de farine, une hache et
un billot, du noir de fumée, des tenailles et une férule de cuir.

Sous un prétexte futile, les passagers avaient été retenus dans les chambres
basses pendant les mystérieux apprêts de la cérémonie. Quand tout fut
prêt, un vigoureux coup de sifflet en porta l’avis dans tous les coins du na-
vire; madame Paturel frissonna pour ses caisses, M. Poirot trembla pour sa
peau.

“Tout le monde en haut! cria maître Larack, de sa voix à casser les vitres.

— Sans doute nous passons sur la ligne, dit un lieutenant à mademoiselle
Esther, qui ne pouvait s’arracher à un vague sentiment de crainte depuis le
jour où pour la première fois on avait signalé approche de cette ligne per-
pétuellement invoquée; permettez-moi de vous conduire en haut, mesdames,
c'est un spectacle curieux et interessant; on ne voit pas des choses semblables
deux fois en sa vie, à moins d’en faire son métier; sans doute nous allons voir
à cheval, sur la ligne, le vénérable dieu de ces climats brülans. Montez,
montez, mesdames, je me charge de vous bien placer . . .”

140 Crossing the Line
1837-1842, continued

M. Poirot ayant engagé mademoiselle Esther à céder aux instances du
jeune marin, elle donna l'exemple que suivirent les dames Paturel, en ar-
rangeant mutuellement leur toilette avant de paraître par-devant l'équipage
et l'état-major assemblés.

Un banc enlevé à la cambuse et que recouvrait un large pavillon rouge
était adossé, pour les dames, au cabestan sur lequel s’appuyaient quelques
officiers. Il y avait sur l’arrière de la frégate une foule de marins, échelonnés
sur toutes les élévations, ricanant entre eux à la venue des néophytes, comme
aux appréts d'un spectacle long-temps désiré. L'ouverture ne se fit pas
attendre: ce fut une foudroyante détonation de fusils et de pierriers, à
laquelle répondit une explosion d’éclats de rire, de trépignemens, et de huées
provoquées par le paroxisme d’une joie bruyante; la foule s’ouvrit, et le
cortége du dieu de la ligne apparut.

Des porte-voix venus on ne sait d’où, répandaient dans Yair des accens
étrangers; une grêle abondante rebondit sur le pont, sans que les femmes
s’aperçussent que le baril aux haricots du maitre coq en avait fourni les élé-
mens; puis de nouvelles détonations éclatèrent derrière l'autel en l’envelop-
pant de fumée, et un houra général accueillit le cortége qui sortit d’une tente
jusque là masquée par les groupes.

Deux gendarmes parurent d'abord; deux beaux hommes, avec des mou-
staches qui se nouaient derrières leurs oreilles. Madame Paturel prétendit
à plusieurs reprises que le brun ressemblait, à s’y fourvoyer, au feu colonel
mort à Waterloo. Un gendarme peut très-bien ressembler à un colonel. —
On en fait avec.

Les gendarmes firent bravement leur métier en forçant les curieux à re-
culer. — Moins ceux-ci eurent de surface sur le pont, plus ils s’elevèrent; —
les matelots passeraient une journée le pied sur une ficelle ou un bâton,
comme les perroquets.

Apres les gendarmes s’avanca, trainé par deux animaux d’une forme in-
descriptible, un chariot ou affut de canon, pavoisé de brillantes couleurs, et
sur lequel trônait une jeune femme élégamment parée en reine, couronnée
avec un petit panier d’osier renversé, surmonté de decoupures de carton;
d’epaisses boucles de copeaux sortaient de la corbeille, et encadraient de
leurs blonds anneaux la fraiche figure de la souveraine, fort occupée, par
contenance peut-être, d’un nourrisson pendu à sa ceinture; laquelle ceinture
soutenait à peine des appas hors de toute proportion imaginable. Un observa-
teur de sang-froid eût facilement reconnu dans cette reine de l'équateur un
petit novice de la frégate, frais comme une algue marine, et dont les traits
prétaient merveilleusement à une semblable metamorphose, mais on ny
prit pas garde. Immédiatement après le char, duquel descendit la reine, on
apercut un vieillard complétement perdu dans les peaux de moutons dont
se composait son ajustement roussatre; une longue chevelure, formée de tout
ce que l’étoupe du bord avait présenté de plus convenable en cheveux blancs,

The Nineteenth Century 141

ombrageait son front plissé par l’âge, sa barbe pendante et touffue encadrait
sa face rougie, grimaçant la gravité et l'importance. Le trident de Neptune,
le sceptre du monde, lui servait à appuyer sa marche; ses pieds nus s’entortil-
laient de bandelettes d’etamine blanche qui se découpaient sur le ton bistré
de la peau du vieillard. — Ces pays-la brunissent la peau en diable.

A la suite de ces deux principaux personnages, suivaient, en s’agitant, une
foule de gens de cour a l'usage des dieux de la ligne, les damnés du cri, les
démons, les valets des dieux marins, tous noircis de goudron, les uns sau-
poudrés de toutes les plumes mises depuis long-temps en réserve par le grand
sacrificateur des volailles, les autres ornés de chaines de cuisine, lesquelles
ils secouaient fort agréablement à la manière des diables de théâtre:

C'était fort bruyant.

Quand madame Paturel eut aperçu cette invasion du navire par tant de
gens inconnus, elle se glissa adroitement vers l'escalier principal, et s’en fut
prier un marin, que son poste retenait dans l’entrepont, d'aller visiter ses
caisses; elle se jura de ne pas quitter le panneau par lequel on les avait
introduites, que l'épouvantable visite n’eût abandonné le bord.

Tout le cortége ayant pris place en dedans du cercle formé par l'équipage,
le père La Ligne fit un signal, auquel répondit un vigoureux coup de sifflet,
qui convertit brusquement en silence les chuchotemens des spectateurs; le
dieu marcha gravement jusqu’au cabestan, où se tenait le commandant de la
frégate, entouré de son état-major, puis, après avoir passé à plusieurs repri-
ses sa main dans la barbe qui flottait à son menton, il laissa lentement tomber
une à une ces énergiques et mémorables paroles:

“Où est le commandant?”

Celui-ci se détacha un peu du groupe, et se montra.

“Oh! c’est vous, M... ! vous êtes un vieil enfant de l'Océan, et plus d’une
fois déjà vous avez traversé les régions où s'étend ma puissance. . . . Soyez le
bienvenu; moi, mon épouse, mes officiers, toute ma cour enfin, sommes à
vos ordres, mon commandant.

— En effet, vénérable vieillard, il y a fort long-temps que j'ai reçu les saints
baptêmes de l'équateur et des tropiques, aussi n’aurai-je à vous demander
vos bontés que pour quelquesuns de nos compagnons de voyage.

— C’est bien! mon secrétaire va les enregistrer sur le grand livre de l’équa-
teur; ils déposeront entre ses mains les sermens d'usage, pendant quoi je vais
me recueillir un instant, pour leur adresser ensuite un petit discours que j'ai
coutume de faire, lorsque, comme ceux que vous m’avez amenés, mes voy-
ageurs sont des personnages de distinction.”

Il y eut un instant de calme. Le dieu se retrancha dans sa peau de mouton,
et relut un chiffon de papier, sur lequel la rhétorique d’un élève avait rapide-
ment suppléé à la faconde du vieux loup de mer. Puis les diables secouèrent
un peu leurs chaines, les matelots se serrèrent entre eux, et sortirent leurs
oreilles de leur chapeau; les deux dames se rapprochèrent l'une contre l’autre:

142 Crossing the Line
1837-1842, continued

M. Poirot regarda obliquement la cuve dont il avait enfin deviné la présence
sous les pavillons qui la recouvraient.

Un nouveau coup de sifflet se fit entendre, et le dieu ayant étendu les bras,
à la manière des beaux prédicateurs, commença comme suit:

“Mes enfans! lorsque naquit le monde, le soleil chargé d'éclairer la terre ne
devait d’abord que parcourir une ligne droite qui est l'équateur. Mais...
mais dès que g’eüt été un peu comme ça... comme ça... ça n'allait pas bien.
Sous la ligne on rôtissait, que la peau s’en fendait au soleil comme du brai
sec; sous les pôles, on y gelait, qu’on y avait pas moyen de boire son quart de
vin. — Bon.”

Ici le vieux chiqueur fit une pause, attendu que ses souvenirs commen-
çaient à se brouiller, et qu'il ajoutait ses propres idées aux images dont était
chargé le discours qu’il avait oublié d'apprendre. Pourtant il reprit:

“Vous n'êtes pas sans avoir entendu parler dans la société, sur mer, sur
terre, ou ailleurs enfin, d’un nommé Phayton, un vigoureux farceur, fils cru
du soleil, qui est censé avoir voulu prendre la barre et conduire la lumière. .. .
Alors (d’ailleurs j'ai lu ça dans un livre qui est dans mon sac, et que je pourrai
bien vous prêter) la barque chavira, et tout le soleil tomba sur la terre, qu'il
grilla beaucoup de personnes qui se promenaient, d'autant plus que l’eau
nest si chaude ici qu'à cause qu'il en tomba beaucoup ici, du soleil. — Bon.”

Un bruit moqueur, précurseur de mille éclats de rire, agita la foule as-
semblée; remuant ses peaux de mouton, le matelot-dieu parvint à ressaisir
au hasard quelques lignes du manuscrit qu'il avait entre les mains, et pour-
suivit:

. Qui, mes enfans, léclystique! on la créa, l'éclystique, avec les deux
jumeaux qu’elle eut du soleil, qui sont aujourd'hui les tropiques. Y en a qui
disent les trois piques, mais c’est les tropiques ou les cent piques qu'on
doit dire, qui signifie que le soleil y pique ferme. . . . Voilà. . . . Qui, mes
frères.”

La voix éraillée du vieillard s’eteignit dans l'explosion écrasante d’hilarite
que la continuation de son discours provoqua dans la foule. Le commandant
lui-même, qui jusque là avait à grand’ peine maintenu un sérieux corre-
spondant à celui de l’orateur, le commandant se prit ouvertement à rire. Le
dieu, qui, retranché dans son épaisse barbe, n'était pas fâché de la tournure
qu'avait prise son allocution, en profita habilement pour se soustraire à la
péroraison à venir, et, se retournant vers ses familiers, il ordonna avec em-
pressement qu'on eût à commencer l'application du baptême.

Quelques coups de sifflet résonnèrent; habitué à ce commandement,
l'équipage se calma peu a peu, et quand la paix fut rétablie, le père La Ligne
alla partager avec son épouse un siége établi pour eux sur l’estrade adossée
à l'autel. Les personnages symboliques, revétus de leurs costumes tradi-
tionnels, formèrent une haie à droite et à gauche, ensuite le puissant ordon-
nateur de la fête fit signe à ses gendarmes de s'emparer de M. Poirot.

The Nineteenth Century 143

M. Poirot voulut réclamer. Il certifia s'être déjà baigné dans les eaux du
tropique, et, opposant son entêtement a l'éloquence des sbires célestes,
chercha à échapper par la persuasion à l'opération dont on lui offrait l’étrenne.
Il ne réussit pas. — Il menaça. — Cela n'eut pas plus de succès. — Il se
débattit; — mais deux hommes, habillés en gendarmes, le façonnèrent
promptement à leur volonté. — Il fallut en passer par leur caprice; il n’eut

ue les honneurs de la résistance.

D'abord le pacotilleur ne sut pas trop ce qu'on voulait de lui. L’opiniä-
treté qu'on mettait à triompher d’une volonté aussi énergiquement formulée
que la sienne, lui fit seule sentir que le but de cette violence devait être
quelque chose de peu agréable pour lui, et rendait sa résistance plus entétée.
Quoi qu'il fit, on l’assit sur la cuve: c'était pour le moment un siége assez
élégant, et qui ne manquait même pas de jeter une certaine distinction sur
celui qui Foccupait, vu qu'il était plus orné et plus extraordinaire que les
autres, un peu dur, mais recouvert de couleurs brillantes. Quand il y fut
assis, M. Poirot sentit sur chacune de ses épaules la large main de ses gardiens,
qui s'appuyait de manière à l'empêcher de se lever dans le cas où il lui en
prendrait envie. Un personnage qui jusqu'alors ne s'était pas produit et
qu'une couronne hérissée de plumes terminait par son extrémité supérieure,
s’approcha de lui, et tenant dans un vieux pot à confitures un mélange de de-
testables ingrediens de cuisine, brandit un énorme pinceau à barbe, dont
il frotta long-temps le menton du pauvre patient; puis le balai à barbe s’éclipsa
devant le gigantesque rasoir dont il a été fait mention, et qui par quatre ou
cing fois räcla le bas du visage du passager, lequel était ni plus ni moins
barbu que la semelle d’un vieil escarpin.

Quand il fut bien rasé, un autre employé au service du père La Ligne,
orné de deux petites cornes naissantes et d’un rabat de sacristain, apporta la
férule de basane, frottée de blanc d'Espagne d’un côté, de noir de fumée
de l'autre; il la lui fallut embrasser, et s’en laisser appliquer un côté différent
sur chaque joue; après quoi, on le laissa un instant se reconnaître: puis, avant
qu'il eut repris une volonté à lui, la planche qui tenait en travers sur la cuve
fut subitement retirée, et la victime du baptême s’enfonça subitement dans
le bassin rempli d'eau à dégorger. Ce ne fut là qu'un prélude. Au même
instant dix seaux d’eau, préparés à cet effet derrière l'autel, lui croulerent
en avalanche sur la tête. A mesure que le malheureux voulait, en se levant,
se soustraire à ce déluge, une nouvelle cataracte, en fondant sur lui, le forçait
à chercher un refuge au fond du cuvier; l’eau amollit son col empesé, appliqua
sur ses formes grêles la mince étoffe de son vêtement, colla ses rares cheveux
à son visage, et confondit ses traits dans un atroce mélange de noir de fumée,
de craie et de vieille sauce, dont à plusieurs reprises on l'avait barbouillé.

L'explosion de plaisir que cette scène provoqua parmi l'équipage serait
impossible à exprimer. Haletant, incapable de proférer un son, le pauvre
passager se débattait instinctivement contre ce chaos où son esprit se perdait.
Ce ne fut que fatigués de rire et de noyer ce pauvre diable, que les marins

144 Crossing the Line

1837-1842, continued

consentirent à le laisser, libre et honteux, sortir de l’effrayante cuve où l'avait
amené une puissance infernale. Trempé, ivre, hébété, le pacotilleur put à
peine distinguer un passage pour se soustraire aux rires humilians dont il
était l’objet; encore lui fallut-il passer devant mademoiselle Esther, qui, à
travers une compassion assez naturelle, lui parut éprouver une gaîté offen-
sante pour lui, victime de la cérémonie. Pourtant, quelque monnaie eût pré-
servé lindigotier de cette cruelle avanie; mais, trop fier de ses campagnes
ultra-tropicales, il n’eût pas voulu descendre à un arrangement, d'autant
moins recherche par les matelots, que la somme qu'ils auraient tirée d’un seul
homme eût été trop faible pour compenser la joie qu'ils devaient se donner
en le baptisant.

Ce fut là le fait capital de la fête, la scène à effet de la burlesque comédie.
Les femmes, pour lesquelles les officiers intercédèrent, s’en tirèrent pour
quelques verres d’eau dans le cou et dans les manches. Seulement, Petoffe
légère dont était vêtue mademoiselle Paturel moula coquettement ses formes;
aussi le lieutenant, son protecteur, promit-il double ration de vin en faveur
de la réserve toute française de MM. les suivans du dieu de la zone torride.

Ce fut après ces opérations préliminaires que, sur l'autorisation du com-
mandant de la frégate, commença dans l'équipage un véritable combat qui
ne tarda pas à confondre dans un baptême général les nouveaux embarqués
et les vieux marins. Retranchés sur le gaillard-d’arriere les officiers encour-
ageaient de leur propre gaite la joie de l'équipage, qui se dédommageait
alors, en s’ebaudissant à son gré, de la contrainte imposée long-temps à ses
caprices, par la discipline du service de mer. Jusqu'à l'heure du souper, ce
fut un affreux ravage sur l’avant de la frégate; l’eau fut constamment l'arme
avec laquelle les ennemis se renversérent; au hasard, quelques coups du
contenant leur noircirent un peu la peau; mais on n'y songeait guère. Le
navire était pour ainsi dire entre deux eaux. Au milieu de ce tapage, maitre
Larack eut toutes les peines imaginables à faire remplacer à tour de rôle le
timonnier et l’homme de vigie.

Quand vint le soir, au quart de la nuit, la brise était chaude et molle, le
ciel bleu, émaillé d'étoiles qui tremblaient dans les petites lames qui moi-
raient la mer. La navigation était facile et agréable. — Assis sur l'arrière de
la frégate, les passageres plaisantaient M. Poirot de son abondant baptême.
— Madame Paturel exprimait des craintes pour ses caisses que l'eau avait
pu atteindre. — Mademoiselle Esther avait couché sa nièce, et regardait
mélancoliquement la mer. — Les officiers que leur service retenait sur le
pont se promenaient en livrant au vent la fumée odorante de leurs cigares
de contrebande.

Pourtant, si le gaillard-d’arrière de la frégate et la mer sur laquelle glissait
doucement sa carène étaient calmes et silencieux, il n’en était pas ainsi de
l'avant et d'une partie de la batterie où pêle-mêle se confondaient encore
les attirails de la cérémonie, les débris des costumes, les décorations de l'autel,

The Nineteenth Century 145

et les matelots qui s’en étaient amusés; la rigueur de la discipline endormie
laissait encore déborder par intervalles quelques trop-pleins d'ivresse, quel-
ques réminiscences de joie éteinte sous le poids de la fatigue. On entendait
parfois quelques cris, quelques noms rauques et inintelligibles qu’on se jetait
d’un côté à l’autre du navire. — Des danses et des jeux, animés par une distri-
bution de vin de cambuse, avaient bruyamment terminé le jour; puis, peu
à peu, l'orchestre improvisé avait assoupi ses notes dans le sommeil de la
lassitude, l’étourdissement avait succédé à l’exaltation et au délire de la fête,
Yaffaissement du corps et de la pensée aux cris et aux trépignemens du ball ..…

Un bal au milieu de l'Océan!

Oh! pour qui a vu toutes les physionomies de cet Océan, pour qui connaît
combien sont courts les entr’actes du calme et de la tempête, que de
sauvages et sinistres poésies dans cette idée de fête sur un pareil théâtrel

Un bal au milieu de l'Océan! sur les profondeurs de l’abime des mers, un
bal où les hommes croient au plaisir, lorsqu’à chaque moment la voix sourde
des lames et les sifflemens ironiques du vent dans les cordages, peuvent pro-
duire un effrayant concert avec leurs menaçantes harmonies!

Un bal au milieu des solitudes de l'Océan, lorsqu’en quelques instans les
vagues furieuses peuvent étendre leur suaire d’écume sur ces puérils hochets
de fête!

(Jules Lecomte. Traditions maritimes: Baptème sous la Ligne. In: La
France Maritime, by Amédéé Grehan. Paris, 1837-42. v. 2, p. 281-288.)

Lecomte’s tale is illustrated by a plate drawn by de Caudin and engraved by Ruhiere.

1841

We crossed the line in long. 26° west of Greenwich. The most striking phe-
nomena witnessed during those days were a waterspout and an illumination
of the sea at night by vast numbers of phosphorescent lights upon the sur-
face, resembling those of fire-flies and thought owing to animalculae. When
it is dark the above lights give the sea the appearance of being covered
with breakers, and some years ago the U.S. Vincennes, I was informed,
changed her course for two hours from a fear that she was running into
them. At the same hour we witnessed the phenomena mentioned, Father
Neptune, availing himself of them, boarded the Delaware, and aided by
many of his elder subjects, began to initiate the younger, never caught
before south of the line, into certain mysteries. One novice caught while
on his way to the foretop had his face smeared with a compound of tar and
grease. A second novice, whose face was white had it painted black; and
a third of this colour had his face daubed white. A fourth person, unwilling
and refusing to submit to what Neptune had enacted, had a rope thrown
around his neck, and dragged from his hiding place and forced to perform
the whole ceremony. When the initiated had been shaved with an iron
hoop, they were allowed to wash themselves and retire. At a late hour his
godship took leave of his children and withdrew to his bottomless and

146 Crossing the Line
1841, continued

watery couch while the ship moved swiftly on her course — her bows
throwing up on each side a cataract of snow-white foam.

(Medical Topography of Brazil and Uruguay: with incidental remarks.
By G. R. B. Horner, M.D., Surgeon U.S. Navy; Honorary Member of
the Philadelphia Medical Society, And Corresponding Member of the
National Institute at Washington. Philadelphia, 1845. p. 24-25.)

No date, but probably late November or early December, 1841.

We had a shipmate once, whom we named “Jack Nastyface,” from the fact
that his face was as rough as a MacAdemized road. The first time that we
crossed the equator in the Pacific, “Jack” was at the mast head looking out
for whales. As soon as “eight bells” were struck, and “Jack” was relieved,
he was informed that we had crossed the line. “Jack” never would be behind
any body in intelligence. “The devil we did!” says “Jack.” “Can’t ye tell us
some news? didn't I see it as well as you did, and better too? wasn't I aloft?
I saw the line before any man aboard.”

(Richard Tobias Greene, in the Sandusky Mirror, January 13, 1855, cited
in Clarence Gohdes, “Melville’s Friend “Toby, Modern Language Notes,
vol. 59 [1944], p. 53.)

Melville sailed from Fairhaven, Massachusetts, on the Acushnet January 8, 1841, and this
crossing of the equator came probably later in 1841 or before July 9, 1842, when he and “Toby”
Greene escaped from the ship at the Marquesas Islands.

1844

By February 14, we were slowly nearing the equator, a time that always
brings well earned sport to the crew. At about seven in the evening we
heard them cheering vigorously, “The fire of Neptune! The fire of Nep-
tune!” We made our way up on deck and about a hundred feet distant we
descried a column of fire. It was a cask of dried peas and tar which the
sailors had set on fire and thrown into the sea. Suddenly, a solemn voice
was heard from the topmast:

“Captain, have you any passengers aboard?”

“I have twelve,” answered the captain merrily.

“Do they intend to pass the line?”

“Yes.”

“Well, tomorrow Neptune in person will administer baptism which is
indispensable to all who pass the line.”

At ten in the evening, the time for retiring, and also the exact time for
us to cross the equator, a huge light flamed out from the topmast. At ten
the next morning we heard the cry “Neptune! Neptune!” The Reverend
Clergy accompanied the captain on the bridge where Neptune was present
with all his court. Had you seen him you would have taken him for his

The Nineteenth Century 147

brother, Pluto. He was clothed in rags; a wig covered his head, and he had
a coarse flax beard. He carried a huge wooden compass and a sextant with
which he mimicked the captain taking longitude. At his right, stood his
wife, as ludicrously attired as himself. His guards surrounded him, each
one armed with a wooden sword, a trident and a spear. Their faces were
smeared with tar and they presented a hideous aspect.

The monarch of the sea promised the captain a prosperous voyage. He
then turned to Father DeSmet and begged to be allowed to shave him.
It was useless to refuse, so the good missionary reluctantly consented after
being assured by the captain that all would be conducted with propriety.
The other priests, too, submitted to the operation. To crown the farce,
Neptune demanded that baptism be administered, and immediately they
were soaked with a deluge of water from on high, and they were glad to
escape to the rear of the deck where they might view the performance
without further inconvenience.

A good supper was then served, which the sailors enjoyed as much as
they had enjoyed the fun. After supper Father DeSmet thanked them for
the entertainment they had afforded.

(Clarence B. Bagley. Early Catholic Missions in Old Oregon. Seattle,
Lowman & Hanford Company, 1932. v. 2, p. 66-67.)

Lowman & Hanford write (January 26, 1955): “Our firm published Early Catholic Missions
in Oregon many years ago and Mr. Bagley is long dead. We hold no copyright and cannot say
what the position of the Bagley heirs may be. However, while we cannot assume responsibility
in the matter, we are inclined to think there would not likely be objection to such quotation as
you mention.”

Neptune's visit is too stale a thing to need relation; its chief fun seemed to
me, who had paid tribute to his dominions years before, to consist in the
very vigorous resistance some people, overburthened with sense, made
to his myrmidons. This, of course, induced them to let such visitors off
much more easily. He hails the evening before his intended visit, when all
hands rush forward, and get desperately soused from the tops, by buckets
full of water. On the grand day of his visit, everybody is allowed to duck
everybody. A poor marine, staunch to the last, was walking his post, cross-
belted, and neat enough for parade, when he was caught and washed till
his coat bid fair to rival his trowsers in whiteness. The weather is always
warm, and really greater misfortunes may befall one than a good washing.
To some the novelty of the operation alone must make it agreeable. Of
course all the old midshipman jokes were practised, — blowing the grampus,
lowering down, &c. Some are such inveterate sleepers as to afford a constant
prey, and as ill humour is seldom shewn on these occasions, it really makes
every one very much more alert; for, as every man takes advantage of his
fellow, so each fears falling asleep on his watch, as his rest is sure to termin-
ate in a cold bath. Geese, from the pens, were sometimes hung round the

148 Crossing the Line
1844, continued

necks of sleepers. These amusements, with soirées on deck, songs, stories,
&c., served to get over the time pretty well.

(Frederick Walpole. Four years in the Pacific in Her Majesty’s Ship “Col-
lingwood,” from 1844 to 1848. London, 1849. v. 1, p. 15-17.)

For several days we had been laying in a continued succession of calms,
broken only at short intervals by light and almost imperceptible airs, that
carried the ship stealthily along towards the equator. The sails dropped
listlessly. . . . The helm had no control. . . . The rain, at intervals, came
pouring down in torrents .. . and then the sun would shoot out his intense
rays, bringing weariness to the body and a faintness to the spirit. . . . Then
came the gentle breeze. . . . All was animation . . . the log was hove, and
six knots reported. “Hold on, good wind,” said the Officer of the watch,
“and before daylight we shall have crossed the line.”

It was a glorious night, and onward went the seventy-four, as steady and
as majestic as the monarch of the waves. Early dawn was seen streaking
the eastern horizon with its lovely light — the seamen were preparing to
wash the decks — yet scarcely a sound disturbed the quiet of the hour.
Suddenly a distant rumbling noise was heard, and a loud splashing in the
water, like a shoal of grampuses at play. Soon afterwards, an indistinct
utterance of voices seemed to be hailing the ship, and in a few minutes a
single, or it might be a double pair of lungs, vociferated, “Ho, the ship
ahoy.”

“Halloo,” responded the Lieutenant of the watch, through his brass
trumpet, and every one stood still.

“What ship is that?” demanded the voice. “From whence came you, and
where are you bound to?”

“This is his Majesty's ship B , from England, bound to Rio Janeiro,”
answered the Lieutenant. “Who are you, and where do you come from?”

“Jist back your main-yard and stop her way a bit, if you please,” returned
the voice, “for my sea-horses are getting rusty from good feed, and won't
mind their helm. Stop her way, and you shall soon see who and what I am.”

The main-yard was squared — the progress of the ship was deadened —
and again, amidst much splashing and confusion under the bows, the same
voice shouted, “Gee — wohoy — woay — wo — avast there, and be blowed
to you — can’t you be still? Heave us the end of a rope, some of you grin-
ning lubbers upon deck — what are you all staring at? — why, did you never
any on you see a Triton afore?” The rope was thrown. “Well-behaved, my
lads; now jump over here, one or two of you, and lend us a hand aboard.”
This request was also complied with, and presently a most uncouth-looking
figure appeared, with half of his naked body above the bulwark, whilst the
whole watch, and many who came stealthily from their hammocks, gathered
on the forecastle to see what was going on. A huge mass of sea-weed and

The Nineteenth Century 149

twisted rope-yarns formed a covering for the head, in the shape of an enor-
mous wig, with a considerable length of pigtail behind — the body was
covered with large fish-scales, but looked, however, very much like tin and
pewter — the arms were bare, but ornamented, as was also the neck, with
sea-shells and pieces of rock-coral, all of divers colours — the face, as much
of it as could be seen, was of a dingy snuff-shaded red — the eyes and fea-
tures displayed a laughter-loving fondness for fun and mischief.

“Here I am, your honour,” said he, taking the forelock of his sea-weed
covering between the finger and thumb of his left hand, and lugging it a
little forward.

The Lieutenant raised his hat in return to the salute. “And what are your
commands with us?” asked he.

“I am a Triton, your honour, sent as a messenger by King Neptune, to
welcome all hands of you to his derminions,” answered the strange-looking
being; “and to say as he purposes to pay you a wisit, with Queen Hamper-
tight, to muster the ships company and claim the humbug (he meant
“hommage”) of his subjects as have never crossed the equiknockshall line
afore. And your honour knows as it’s of no use to try and gammon him in
the regard of the overhauling, for here’s a list of names as he expects to
see, to do him soot and sarvice, as well to give a friendly hail to owld ship-
mates — that is, I means friends and acquaintances.”

“And that’s kind on him, too,” said the boatswain, who just made his
appearance; “but I'm saying, my scaly blade, do you think that he'll recol-
lect us all?”

“No doubt in the world, Master Blowbellows,” answered the Triton; “you
see as I knows you. But there’s much in regard of the cut and shape of the
figure-head, and yours arn't to be easily forgotten, any how.”

A most insubordinate burst of laughter followed this response, for the
boatswain had about as ugly a countenance as any mortal would be glad
to get rid of; and he slued round, mumbling to himself, “Ho — ho — that’s
it, is itP — all discipline hove to the devil. But never mind, my fine fellow,
Tl pay you off for your joke before many dog-watches are out, never fear.”

When order was somewhat restored, the Triton handed the list to the
Lieutenant — (who had laughed as hearty as any of the rest) — and again
touching his sea-weed, he disappeared. There was the same splashing under
the bows — the same “kim up” and “gee wohy,” but in a few minutes all
was again silent, the sails were filled, and the watch returned to their
several duties.

As soon as the decks were washed and dried, a spare topsail was triced
up athwart-ships to the after-shrouds of the fore-rigging, so as to conceal
every thing forward from those who were abaft; the hammocks were
stowed and the boatswain’s mate piped to breakfast. During the meal, the
past and expected visits of the morning were amply discussed, and most
terrific pictures were given to the uninitiated, of the tortures they would
have to undergo.

150 Crossing the Line
1844, continued

The breeze had subsided to a light pleasant air, that just kept the sails
sleeping — the water was as smooth as a mill-pond, and the decks nearly
as level as a paved yard. None but those who had crossed the line before
were permitted to witness the first reception of the liquid deity, but exactly
at four bells (ten o'clock )’in the forenoon watch, the same distant hail was
heard and answered — the splashing and noise was much greater than
before, and shortly afterwards the screen was raised, and the procession
moved aft along the gangway. First came two Tritons, as avant couriers,
with harpoons; then followed the band playing “Come, cheer up, my lads;”
and next were four other Tritons, two and two. To them succeeded the car
(a gun carriage) of Neptune and Amphitrite, drawn by eight most unruly
sea monsters, that caused the monarch to sit very shaky and unsteady —
his glittering crown tottering on his head — and though his consort ap-
peared to have been very recently close-shaved, yet there was something
extremely main-topmanish in her look, and she had either an immense
gum-boil or a huge hillock of tabacco in her left cheek; but this latter article
admits of a doubt, as ladies, especially Queens, never chaw their quid.
Immediately behind the car walked the most important personage of the
whole — the Barber, wielding a long tremendous razor, gapped like a
hand-saw; and by his side was his mate, with a lather-brush and a bucket,
half filled with a compound of abominations. Next appeared Davy Jones,
on the back of one of his subordinates, both displaying sprouting horns on
their forehead, and

“Such a length of tail behind.”

The procession was closed by Tritons and other aquatic attendants, in
their proper, or rather improper costume.

The Captain received them on the quarter-deck, and after the usual
compliments and ceremonials, they proceeded to a large tub of water abaft
the mainmast, over which a piece of plank was placed for a seat. The first
name on the list was called, and being brought up blindfolded, he was
placed on the plank to undergo an examination by Davy Jones, whilst the
Barber and his assistant stood ready to shave him. The first question was
relative to his birth and parentage — and if the innocent dear opened his
mouth to reply, slap went the brush, well charged, right into it, and this
was repeated as often as he answered. The lather was then daubed over
his chin, and the razor roughly scraped a portion of it off; the plank was
drawn from under him, and he was left to flounder out of the tub the best
way he could, whilst numbers stood ready with buckets to repeat the dose
as he ran from his tormentors. The shaving occupied three or four hours,
and grog flowed in abundance till the whole ceremony was completed; the

The Nineteenth Century 151

decks were then cleared up, and the people indulged in mirthful recreation
through the remainder of the day.

(The Old Sailor’s Jolly-Boat, laden with tales, yarns, scraps, fragments
pulled by wit, fun ... and steered by Mathew Henry Barker. London,
1844. v. i, p. 452-456. With illustrations by Robert Cruikshank. )

1845

Wednesday, Dec. 10. This morning, with our royals set to a steady south-
easter, we dashed across the equator at longitude thirty... .

Old Neptune formerly saluted every ship that crossed the line. He ap-
peared in the shape of some tall sturdy tar, in ox-hide mail, with a long
beard of yarn falling below his chin, and locks of the same flowing in
drenched ringlets down his shoulders. His trident was a huge harpoon, his
pipe the coiled hose of the fire-engine; thus accoutred, he hailed the ship
over her bows, and mounting a gun-carriage, was drawn aft to the quarter-
deck. Here he summoned the green horns to his presence, and after lather-
ing them from a tub of grease and tar, shaved them with a ship’s scraper.
Having thus introduced the novice into his service, he returned in triumph
to his watery realm. This ceremony was found such an infraction of dis-
cipline, that it has been discontinued on board our national ships. Our
sailors were allowed to splice the main-brace as a substitute.

(Rev. Walter Colton, U.S. N. Deck and port; or, Incidents of a cruise in
the United States Frigate Congress to California. New York, 1860.
p. 72-73.)

Just when the party was “discontinued on board our national ships” is uncertain. In recent
years the decision to stage the ceremony has rested with the commanding officer of the ship
or the senior officer afloat. Just how much was included in the substitute function of “splicing
the main-brace” is also unclear. Admiral L. P. Lovette comments: “In the wine mess days of our
Navy, up until Josephus Daniel’s day, officers bought off with a dozen bottles of beer for the
enlisted Father Neptune party who put the show on, all called ‘shell backs.’” The practice of
issuing a spirit ration was abolished by act of Congress July 14, 1862, but qualified by an exemp-
tion of “ale, beer, wine, or other liquors not distilled” in Navy Regulations of 1865. Half a cen-
tury later Secretary Daniels forbade alcoholic liquors “for drinking purposes,” June 1, 1914; but
on March 21, 1934, shore establishments were allowed to carry liquors for officers.

[After June, 1845] Crossing the line was quite an event in the lives of those
who were now making their first voyage. The ceremonies of shaving, duck-
ing, and tribute-exacting, which we read of as being so much in vogue in
former days, on occasions of this kind, have gone out of use in this practical
age, and I, who had looked forward with delighted terror to the advent of
Neptune, and the initiation of us green hands, into the mysteries of the sea
god, was obliged to content myself with reminiscences of the older tars,
most of whom had undergone the ordeal of Father Neptune’s razor and
bathing tub, and taken the required obligations, “never to eat brown bread,

152 Crossing the Line
_ 1845, continued

when you can get white; never to kiss the maid, when you can kiss the
mistress; to eschew water, and drink grog; hate a sojer and love a pretty
girl.”

(Charles Nordhoff. Man-of-war life. Cincinnati, 1856. p. 102.)

The first edition is supposed to be dated New York, 1855, but seems to have disappeared.
In all editions I have seen, except the 1941 reissue, I served in windjammers, the chapter con-
tinues with some discussion of crossing the line in “the halcyon days of the sea” when tars
“made as familiar with old Father Neptune and the Flying Dutchman, as a half-starved sojer
would with a bread-barge.” The “captain of the maintop” spins a long yarn of a sailmaker much
addicted to foul language who received grim justice on crossing the line “in the bark Sunder-
land, bound from Hull to Buenos Ayres.” When the Sunderland approached the line the sail-
maker “declared his intention never to see Neptune, nor submit himself to the usual cere-
monies.” One Sunday morning he said “that he wished Jimmy Squarefoot might take him off
to perdition that minute, if he ever meant to submit to any of their gammon.”

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth before an invisible force dragged him struggling
and squirming “across to the lee side, and over the fore-sheet, catching and unreeving the lee
fore-tack as he went overboard — and that was the last we saw of him, although we heard
a shouting and groaning for more than ten minutes afterward.” Some time after they had
passed the line they heard “a sound as of a heavy body falling on deck, forward.” There they
found the sailmaker alive, but little more. He gradually recovered but was a changed man,
quiet and silent, not noisy nor quarrelsome. Back in Hull he went ashore, talked with the
chaplain at the Sailor’s Bethel, never went to sea again, made sure that his tale to the chaplain
was “to be printed, but not until after his death.” Some day this Hull imprint may turn up,
though search so far has been unrewarded.

1849

Saw Brava the next day [16 May 1849], and crossed the Equator on the
28rd. It has been one of the rules of the sea, to introduce green hands and
passengers to King Neptune on passing the Line. On one of my voyages

.to India, I had some half a dozen passengers, scions of the codfish aris-
tocracy of Boston; they were a wild set of boys, and I was not averse to
the sailors’ giving them a taste of old Neptune’s baptism on their promising
me that they would be careful not to hurt them. We passed from North to
South latitude during the afternoon, and when the shades of evening were
falling, a hoarse voice was heard ahead hailing “Ship aho-oa,” to which one
of the old salts who was on the lookout replied, “Halloo-oah.”

“Heave your ship to, for I am coming on board.”

The seamen now considering themselves under the immediate orders of
the Sea God, without any reference to me or the mates, laid the maintopsail
aback, and the ship’s headway was stopped. The sailors had previously
hoisted a barrel of water up into the foretop, leaving two of their number
up there with it.

The rest of them were clustered on the forecastle, when old King Neptune
was seen rising up over the bows, first his cap (a mess kid [sic] bottom up
with a large tar brush for a plume), then a forehead of yellow metal, with

The Nineteenth Century 153

two great holes for eyes and conchshells for eyeballs, a larger conch for a
nose, and a mouth slit from side to side, and filled with small yellow shells
for teeth. His neck cloth was a mat, with the corners of a tarpaulin standing
out for a collar. He was loosely robed in a spare studding sail and his trident
was (of course) the shark grain. He seated himself on the windlass and the
sailors all made a profound obeisance to his Majesty.

The “B’hoys” on the quarter deck were enjoying themselves in singing
“Dandy Jim” and “Old Dan Tucker,” when Neptune made his appearance
on deck, and they all went forward to see. Just as they came under the
foretop Neptune in a speech was saying, “I rule on the sea, I cause the
winds, and I order and it rains,” and the sailors in the top capsized the
barrel and down came a cataract upon the B’hoys.

It is a rule of the Sea King, to initiate all his fresh subjects by shaving
them with an iron hoop, having lathered them with a paint brush dipped
in the cook’s slush barrel, but he sometimes dispenses with this ceremony, in
consideration of a fee of a bottle of rum. All the B’hoys but one preferred
to pay the fee. That one was a Mr. Hall, a ministerial student, a miserable
bigot, who had the charity to tell me that I was no Christian because I
professed to be a Unitarian. He was a weak, conceited fool, and apparently
thought he was going to Calcutta to teach the Bishop. He was a teetotaller
from principle, and could not damage his conscience by bribing a god with
a bottle of rum.

So by the command of the Sovereign of the Sea, the seamen blindfolded
Hall and seated him on a board laid loosely across a steep tub, half full of
pure sea water. One of the tars acted as barber, while Neptune questioned
the candidate as to his former life, cautioning him to make true answers
on pain of his future displeasure. “Where were you born?” but the moment
poor H. opened his mouth to reply, the barber lathered his lips with a paint
brush, and afterward scraped off the sweet scented lather with his iron
hoop. Then at a signal from his Majesty, the board slipped out, and H.
slipped into the steep tub and the sailor|s] scrubbed and rubbed him till
their sovereign master told them to stop. Neptune then bestowed his bless-
ing upon the novice, with a free permit to traverse any part of his dominion
in future.

When this ceremony had concluded, and the bottle of rum had been dis-
cussed by all hands, they formed in procession and escorted his Majesty
three times around the ship, and amid the noise and confusion of three real
hearty sailor-like cheers, the God of the Sea plunged into his own dominions
and drifted astern in a blaze of illumination.

Now, all this was a farce got up by the old salts on board, one of them
personating Neptune, and a large fender was thrown overboard at the close
of the ceremony, accompanied by a number of empty bread barrels, filled
with oakum and ready to be ignited as they were thrown overboard. Hall
was, however, so weak as to believe for a long while that it was a reality.

154 Crossing the Line
1849, continued

On this voyage I am at present relating, I thought it prudent to put a
veto upon any such demonstration as I have just described, much to the
disappointment of the old seamen and some of the passengers.

( [George Coffin.] A pioneer voyage to California and round the world.
1849 to 1852. Ship Alhambra, Captain George Coffin. Chicago, 1908.
p. 17-19.)

Diligent and persistent search failed to bring any connection with publisher or author, and
I venture to print this in hope I may be forgiven and excused if thus I seem to break any
copyright or other right.

The Weather continued fine and the gentle N.E. trade winds carried us
quickly along. The watch on deck during the day were all busily employed,
some fitting riggin’, some making mats for putting on places in the rig-
gin’ and spars where any chafe might occur, some making spunyarn. The
rattle of the machine used in making same afforded music for those
employed.

One evening as we were about on the Equator, with our watch on deck,
the 8d Mate, 4th Mate, the other boat-steerers and myself, standing on the
weather side of the deck abreast the mainmast, some leaning against the
braces coiled up on the pins in the fife rail, talking and smoking, the 4th
Mate proposed having Old Neptune to come on board when we crossed the
Line.

“Who is to take the part of Neptune? said the 2d Mate. “Oh, for that
matter, I will,” said the 4th Mate. The 2d Mate said, “All right, I will see the
Mate and Captain about it, and let you know what they say.” The next night
we had the middle watch. The 2d Mate told us that both Captain and Mate
would help the fun along in any way they could. “I have got a rig most ready,
and tomorrow can perfect it. If you say so, we will have it tomorrow night.”
“There are a number in the forecastle who have been to sea before. We must
let them know about this,” said the 2d Mate. “All right,” said the 4th Mate.
“How many are in this watch? Better have them come aft in a quiet way, and
the boat-steerers can tell them.”

Before the watch was out we had told the five or six able seamen what was
up, and for them to tell the able seamen in the Larboard watch about it and
be sure not to let the green hands into the secret.

The next day at noon, after taking the observation and working up the
Latitude, the Captain said to the Mate in the hearing of the man at the wheel,
who was one of the green hands, “By our reckoning we shall cross the Line
by seven or eight p. m. I wonder if Old Neptune will come on board?” “Oh,
yes,” said the Mate. “He has got so now that he will not let any whalemen
pass his Empire without stopping them.” They knew that as soon as the wheel
was relieved and the man went forward, he would carry the news of what
had been said.

The Nineteenth Century 155

_ Just before the men came down from the masthead at sundown, the captain
hailed the boat-steerer who had the masthead at the main: “Do you see any-
thing of the Line?” “I think I do,” he replied. “Take the glass and see if you
can make out anything like Old Neptune's boat.” “There is something ahead,
but too far off for me to make out what,” was the reply. The Mate turned to
the Captain, shaking his head knowingly, “That’s him, no doubt.”

As soon as it began to grow dark the green hands were sent below, about
eight or nine of them. The forecastle scuttle was closed and guarded by three
or four of the able seamen, the main hatch taken off, and one of the largest
sized blubber tubs hoisted on deck. It would hold about sixteen or seventeen
barrels of water. This was placed on deck just abaft the tryworks, about six
feet below the top. The tub then was filled to the brim with salt water and
two wide boards were run from its edge to about two feet above the after
part of the works. A seat was made at this end, just high enough for one to

_sit on the ends of the boards. This seat was made to swing on its side next the
projecting ends of the boards, the feet resting on the lower side or bottom.
When this was lifted a person could not help from tipping backwards and
sliding down heels over head into the tank of water. Some steps were placed
from the forehatch to the top of the works on the forward part of the tryworks,
so one could ascend that way.

During the time these preparations were going on, the 4th Mate had put
on his rig and come on deck. His feet were encased in two old mats made of
spunyarn that had been partly worn out in the jaws of two topsail yards.
They were lashed on with rope yarns and came above his ankles. Over his
pants in front were two thrummed mats (made of strips of canvas with pieces
of strands cut from unlaid rope, say, three inches in length, and sewed by the
middle to the canvas just so far apart that when the two ends of each were
unraveled they would meet: these were used in stopping the chafing of years
and riggin’). For a coat he had an old short oil jacket that had become quite
dark from use. Over it and his shoulders hung down long pieces of spunyarn
back and front, to represent seaweed. He had whiskers, reaching down to
his waist, made of white Manila yarns, partly unlaid, sewn on a piece of cloth
that tied over his face leaving only the eyes, nose and mouth exposed. His
head had a wig of frowsy okum and short rope yarns in the way of hair, on
top of which rested an immense Turk’s-head that had been worked out of
12-thread rattlin stuff. In one hand he held a pair of grains [a four-pronged
harpoon], in the other an old speaking trumpet.

All being ready, Neptune worked his way out on the bowsprit as far as
the fore-topmast backstays. These went down through cleats each side of it,
and the ends led beneath to the bows, where he took his place. As the two
stays afforded him good standing and the use of his hands, in which he
carried the trumpet (for he had left his trident until he could take his seat
= the tryworks ), raising the trumpet to his mouth, he bellowed out, “Ship
ahoy!”

156 Crossing the Line

1849, continued

The Captain, who stood on the main hatch with his trumpet in hand,
raised it to his lips and yelled back, “Hello!”

Orp NEPTUNE: What ship is that?

Captain: Ship C. W. Morgan.

NEPTUNE: Have you any subjects for me?

Captain: Yes, a few.

Neptune: Haul aback your mainyard. I will come aboard.

The order was given to haul up the mainsail and haul aback the mainyard.
The men shouted the order back at the top of their voices, and with a loud
tramping and throwing down of ropes made such a confusion on deck that
the poor devils below were about frightened out of their wits.

Neptune got in on deck and mounted the tryworks, sat down on a scrap tub
turned bottom up, and sung out loud enough for them in the forecastle to
hear, “Bring on the youngsters! I am in a hurry. Have lots of ships to visit.
tonight. One at a time.”

None seemed willing to come first, but when told if they kept Old Neptune
waiting it would be harder for them, one ventured up the steps and had
hardly struck the deck before he was blindfolded.

He was one of the Smart Aleck kind — should think, by his looks and
actions, he had been one of the kind sometimes seen in country villages,
swaggering into the country store, with pink necktie, scarlet vest, standup
collar, cutaway coat and natty cane, with a damn-my-eyes cant to his hat,
thinking every girl who should happen to look at him was dead gone, at least
on his bold shape and corkscrew legs.

He came out of the forecastle scuttle with a swing-and-strut air of “Here I
am! You cannot play your trick on me, if you do on the common green hands.”
He objected to having his eyes covered but it was of no use, for three or four
of the old hands had hold of him by the arms and body. He had only a
glimpse of Old Neptune in the light of the lantherns, which made him a bit
quiet, so he was soon blindfolded and led up on the tryworks to the anxious
seat.

Neptune spoke to him in a voice that sounded like coming through a cart-
load of rasps:

“Young man! There is every reason to suppose by your actions and talk
since you came on board this ship, so I am informed, that you are a bad, bad
man. But let us hope that when you have been shaved and christened, it will
have the effect on you to cause a change in your former ways, make you a
good sailor, and learn you how to be a man. I have a few questions to ask
before we go on with our mild and soothing initiations. You are expected to
answer promptly and open your mouth wide.”

The Nineteenth Century 157

By the time Old Nep finished, the young chap had lost some of his bold
swagger and began to think there might be more in it than he thought. It
could be seen that he was getting nervous.

Op Neptune: What is your name?
GREEN Hanp: Joseph Blake.

Ozp NEPTUNE: Hereafter, while on board this ship, you will be called Joe,
and to which may be added, “The Lady Killer,” on state occasions. I have one
more question to ask, and a little advice to give before we make a clean-shaved
sailor of you. The advice is this: Never to eat brown bread when you can get
white, unless you like it best. Never kiss the servant maid if you can the
mistress, unless the mistress is not so pretty. Did you ever kiss a Negro girl?
Answer loud!

GREEN Hann: Noo0000-0h-0h-000 . . .

He seemed quite mad at the last question, and tried to answer loud, as
ordered, by opening his mouth to its full extent; but before the “no” could
well get out between his teeth, the tar brush covered thickly was rammed
halfway down his throat. Gagging, spitting and struggling, he almost cleared
himself of the boys who held him. His face was covered with a vile decoc-
tion composed of coal tar, slush and softsoap, and scraped with a piece
of iron hoop, he groaning at the rough edges. During this time he had been
asked by Neptune if he could swim. When he said he could, he was
told, “On that perhaps your life will depend before you get done with this
ceremony.”

A bucket of water in the hands of one of the men, when the shaving was
finished, was dashed full in his face, his heels were elevated and he went
rolling down the incline, striking the water. He struck out like a man to swim,
yelling for a rope, as the boys sung out a “Man overboard!”

Of course two or three strokes brought him to the tub’s side, where he tore
the bandage from his eyes and crawled out on deck. The wild look he gave
Neptune, the tub of water, and the men shrieking with laughter, only made
the mirth greater. He soon got over his fright, though, and was just as eager
for the next one to show up as any.

The custom of having Neptune on board when crossing the Line is fast
going out of date. No doubt, in some instances green hands were roughly
used; but in no instance could they have been so dangerously made to suffer
as in the old-time initiation of keel-hauling, as it was called, which has caused
the loss of lives.

The manner of keel-hauling a victim the first time he crossed the Line was
to take him out on the martingale guys — ropes leading from the bows, one
off each side, to a spar hanging up and down, one end of the same being fast
to the underside of the bowsprit nearly at its end.

A rope was made fast to his feet and another one made fast to his body,
under his arms. The one to his feet was led aft outside the rail, clear of every-

158 Crossing the Line

1849, continued

thing, so it would go under the ship. All being ready, the poor devil was
tumbled overboard. He would sink far enough for the ship to pass her bows
over him, and the rope aft, being hauled taut, would bring him square under
the ship. The rope forward was slacked away, on, just enough to go aft on
the ship, as wished for.

As soon as the man came up to the rudder, a dozen or more men would clap
on the rope and bowse him over the taffrail in on deck, most often insensible,
by bringing him up heels first. A good deal of the water he had swallowed
would run out. It was a barbarous custom and should have been stopped
long before it was.

(Nelson Cole Haley. Whale hunt. New York, 1948. p. 36-42.)

Noteworthy as one of the rather few stories staged on a whaler.
Reprinted with permission of Ives Washburn, Inc., the publisher.

In good time making the desired longitude upon the equator, a few leagues
west of the Gallipagos, we spent several weeks chassezing across the Line,
to and fro, in unavailing search for our prey. For some of the hunters believe,
that whales, like the silver ore in Peru, run in veins through the ocean. So,
day after day, daily; and week after week, weekly, we traversed the self-
same longitudinal intersection of the self-same Line; till we were almost
ready to swear that we felt the ship strike every time her keel crossed that
imaginary locality.

(Herman Melville. Mardi: and a voyage thither. New York, 1849. v. 1,

p. 14-15.)

Once more mention by a whaler, once more a crossing with no ceremony — but worth
quoting for the sake of Melville. “Chassezing” is a rather unusual variant, actually closer to its
French origin, of the usual “sashy” or “shashy” used by the square dance announcer or by any-
one meaning “to dance around” or “to go to and fro.”

Apropos of repeated crossings, Admiral Leland P. Lovette wrote me: “In 1925, when in the
U.S.S. Memphis returning from Australia and New Zealand, we did much the same thing. For
two days we ran eastward along the Line, going back and forth a few times each day, so that
all hands could say they had crossed the Line say fifty times. Admiral Harry Yarnell then com-
manding the Asiatic Fleet, having crossed many times, thought it novel before the U.S.S. Augusta
crossed on a following day, to be catapulted in a plane and flown over before nightfall. All of
this helps for the ‘build up’ with a crew who are to get the works the next day.”

February 27 (Tuesday): Today we enter the tropics and last night for the
first time the Portuguese Cross became visible above the horizon. Read a
little in the hope of reviving my astronomical knowledge, but Spanish makes
slow progress.

March 4 (Sunday): At 11 a.m. had service by Mr. Fitch. . . . Most of the
crew sat grouped bare-headed upon the floor, forming a “toute ensemble”

The Nineteenth Century 159

interesting, picturesque, and impressive, although the pleasurable feelings
excited by the spectacle were somewhat marred by the fact of one of the
crew being whipped and put in irons in consequence of refusing to wash
himself and attend service.

March 8 (Thursday): Neptune today made his promised visit, with wife and
attendants . . . and having drunk the health of the captain and passengers
of the good ship Panama in a glass of grog ordered up from the cabin by
the captain, he and his attendants retired from the quarterdeck to the fore-
castle. Here followed the more serious part of the performance. Upon a
long plank reaching from the caboose to the forecastle were arranged a
number of buckets of water; beneath the plank and upon the stock of
one of the guns was prepared a not very pleasant seat, while opposite
this seat, in all the terrors of absolute authority, sat Neptune and his con-
sort surrounded by his attendants. On receiving an order to that effect,
the attendants brought forward one of the crew who had not before
“crossed the line;” a bandage was placed over his eyes; two or three men
held him in his seat with his head back; a dirty, black piece of tarred
sail-cloth, about a yard square was placed under his chin, and the barber
stands ready with paint brush and tar pail. Neptune then addresses
him some questions and as he opens his mouth to answer it is filled with
tar, with which his whole face is painted. The long razor is then produced
and his face goes through the operation of being scraped, after which
three pails of water are thrown suddenly upon him from the plank above,
and he is then at liberty to find his way to the slush barrel and there
employ himself for an hour or two in freeing his face from the sticky
lather. This operation was performed upon many of the crew besides
several forward cabin passengers, and even the second mate himself,
who submitted to it quite cheerfully and then exerted himself strenuously
in bringing others to the same condemnation. Some surrendered themselves
with the resignation of martyrs, others struggled and fought; one secreted
himself in the rigging, but was obliged to come down; another poor
fellow, a French waiter, appeared frightened almost out of his senses;
he begged, cried, entreated, implored, offered his purse and all it contained,
if they would but release him, and finally went through the operation bel-
lowing like a calf.

(Clarence Blair Mitchell. Mitchell record. [Princeton:] Privately printed,
1926. p. 110-112.)

Clarence Green Mitchell, Columbia 1847, at the age of 23, sailed from New York on the
side-wheel steamer Panama under command of Lieutenant Porter, son of David Dixon Porter,
the naval officer.

The quotations from the privately printed family record are made with permission of the
author, who reports that the omissions in the original manuscript (indicated here as in the
printed text) are of no importance.

160 Crossing the Line

1850

Wednesday, November 6. Crossed the equator at about 11 p. m. “Old Nep”
came on board and effectively “shaved” the starboard watch, which was
below at the time. The larboard watch being on deck, escaped entirely.

(James F. Munger. Two years in the Pacific and Arctic oceans and China,
being a journal of every day life on... a whaling voyage. Vernon [Oneida
County, New York,] 1852. p. 13.)

Somewhat eloquent understatement.

1851

... In the Small Cause Court at Madras in September, 1851, the Captain and
First Officer of the True Briton were separately sued by a passenger named
King, a ship’s steward, who had been lathered with a mixture of flour and
water and well drenched in salt water in a “crossing of the line” diversion
on board that ship. . .

The full text of the story is included in the case of Lieutenant Maw under date of 1801, is

referred to here in chronological order, but is better read in the fuller report set forth as integral
part of the 1801 article.

1853

April 2nd. The weather hot and salty with frequently showers. To day we
crossed the line, that imaginary boundary between the hemispheres called
“the line,” once the terror of Greenhorns on the accounts of the visits of his
aquatic majesty, old Neptune, with the usual accompanyments of shaveing
and ducking etc.
(Bluejackets with Perry in Japan. A day-by-day account kept by Master's
Mate John R. C. Lewis and Cabin Boy William B. Allen. Edited with an
Introduction, by Henry F. Graff. Bulletin of The New York Public Li-
brary. v. 55, no. 1, Jan. 1951. p. 15.)
Did “old Neptune, with the usual accompanyments of shaveing and ducking” come aboard
on this trip? Or, didn’t he?
In 1853, or certainly in the minds of Lewis and Allen on this trip, “Greenhorns” were the
“pollywogs” of our day.
c. 1855

On the 18th of December [1860], we crossed the equator in longitude 24°
30’ west. The weather was delightful; pleasant breezes and sunshine; the
heat not uncomfortable, but just enough to make thin clothing desirable.
Old Neptune did not favor us with a visit, although rather fearfully expected
by some. This practice, we believe, has become obsolete, and we rejoice
heartily at it, for a more barbarous one never was invented.

Barney was very anxiously and busily engaged during the middle and
morning watches, and most of the day, in looking for the “line” as we crossed
it. He had talked of nothing else for several days, and was keeping a bright

The Nineteenth Century 161

look-out for it, losing his watch below for the purpose. But he was doomed
to disappointment. No “line” was visible when we crossed the equator, and
poor Barney went below, when the announcement was made that we were
south of it, muttering to himself, “It is certainly strange; I have often seen
it on the maps, and I can’t imagine how we crossed it without seeing it.”
Barney found out his error before the voyage was up.

(Life and adventure in the South Pacific. By a roving printer. New York,
1861. p. 41.)

Another “roving printer” calling himself Mark Twain tells later of much the same disappoint-
ment when fellow passengers failed to find that line they hoped to see if not to feel.

1855

La procession fait plusieurs fois le tour du navire; elle fait halte d’abord non
loin de la statue de la Clorinde, [nom de la frégate dont il est question dans
le roman], placée à l’avant. Le père la Ligne déclare ne point la connaître;
en effet, la frégate, nouvellement lancée, n'avait pas encore passé l'Equateur.
Un des officiants s’arme d’une hache pour la punir de sa témérité. La figure
va voler en éclats. Heureusement, le commandant est prévenu par l'enfant
de choeur. Une rançon magnifique rachète la tête de l'emblème. Le senhor
Cesar Chifarote, marquis das Penilhas et la senhora Leonarda, marquise
da Viracäo, furent enveloppés simultanément par les diables et par les gen-
darmes; ils marchèrent de force et prirent place en même temps sur le siège
aquatique dont ils ne devaient pas toujours ignorer les secrets; car, au mo-
ment le plus pathétique du discours de Coco-Bel-OEil, la planche fut brus-
quement retirée. Un démon caché s’accrocha au collet du grant sénéchal, qui
entraîna sa soeur dans sa chute.

— Horreur! abomination! au secours! criait la marquise.

— Par la sambleul ventrebleul criait le marquis.

— Parafagaramus! argentibus courtibus! baptemus du Perus la Lignibus!
disait gravement Coco-Bel-OEil, tandis que le barbier, en deux coups de
rasoir de bois, noircissait la joue gauche du marquis et placardait de blanc
la joue droite de la duégne.

— Coleratis malsainibus! ajouta le grand-prêtre en voyant que les deux
personnages ne s apaisaient point et criaient de plus belle.

Pompibus!!!

A ce mot du rituel matelotesque un seau d’eau de mer tomba sur la téte
du couple infortuné, qui fut ainsi puni de n’avoir déposé qu’une cruzade
dans le bassin d’argent, parcimonie qui leur valut le baptême dans toute sa
rigueur.

— Parfaitamenté baptisatis! dit alors Coco-Bel-OEil.

Un rire homérique accueillit le grand sénéchal et la dame d’atours, quand
ils s’enfuirent de la chapelle. Ils portèrent leurs plaintes au commandant qui
les renvoya sérieusement à Neptune, lequel commandait dans son porte-voix:

162 Crossing the Line
1855, continued

— Chacun à son poste pour éternuer! Hale les boulines du cabestan! Hisse
la cale sur le pont! Attrape à cuire la soupe!

— Vous voyez que jai abdiqué pour aujourd'hui, dit le comte; adressez-
vous au dieu de la mer.

Neptune entendit et reprit dans son porte-voix:

— Charivari!

— Et pour qui? demanda l'équipage ameute.

— Pour le marquis et pour la marquise aussi! . . .

(Guillaume Joseph Gabriel de La Landelle. Les passagères. Valenciennes,
1855. apud Mélusine, v. 2, 1884-5. )

The catalogue of the Bibliothèque Nationale notes that this novel is “Extrait de Impartial du
Nord. — Méme ouvrage que: Le Docteur Esturgeot,” and for the latter gives the imprint thus:
“Paris: P. Permain, 1850. 2 v. in 8°.”

This first instance of a threat of smashing the figure head of a ship newly entering Neptune's
kingdom confirms the second-hand story noted above under 1816.

1858

On the 18th of January, 1858 [presumably Old Style], advancing at a creep-
ing pace, we finally reached the equator. The event was celebrated in an
appropriate fashion. As luck would have it, it was Sunday. All the flags were
turned into costumes. A throne, draped with red pennants, was set up near
the smoke stack. At four o'clock, to the accompaniment of a drum, a tam-
bourine and an accordion, a procession started from the crew’s quarters.
It included a nude “Negro,” blackened with soot and wearing a red sash;
a Turk; a muzhik with a trained bear which was turning somersaults and
cutting capers as instructed by his master. There were also soldiers and a
fantastic cook carrying ladles and sieves, and at last, Neptune himself,
impersonated by the ship’s wag Khudobin. The part of Neptune’s spouse
was played by Vaska, a stoker. To the accompaniment of the wildest music,
the procession made the round of the Clipper. Finally Neptune mounted the
throne and was surrounded by his motley retinue. The first one to be pre-
sented to him was the captain, who made a contribution only for the ship,
since he had crossed the line before. The officers placed coins on a separate
tray. All swore that they would never court a sailor’s lawful wife. The real
fun began when the sailor’s turn came. Upon some the sea god’s disfavor
was visited with special severity. A stream of water from a pump is no joking
matter. Clerks and other folk whom seamen are not fond of had to suffer
the most. Half a dozen men held the victim down and in spite of all his
efforts to avoid it, the water from the pump squirted right into his face and
he was forced to swallow a good deal of salt water. The last ones to be thus
treated were naturally Neptune himself and his spouse, who played their
parts with resourcefulness and wit. They were the worst sufferers of all.

The Nineteenth Century 163

The day ended with songs and an extra glass of vodka.

(A. Vysheslavtzev. Ocherki perom i karandoshom iz Krugosvetnovo
plavaniya v 1857, 1858, 1859, 1860. [Pen and pencil sketches from the
voyage around the world made in 1857-1860.] St. Petersburg, Moscow,
1867. 2nd ed., rev., p. 43-44.)
The translation is by Dr. Avrahm Yarmolinsky.
By this time the crossing is but one more day’s work, at least we find no mention of “mass
and prayers of thanksgiving” nor toasts to His Imperial Majesty as Lisyanki on the Neva
reported in 1808.

1864

The Tropic of Cancer was passed with festivities for the amusement of the
sailors, — a custom which is usually observed only at the crossing of the
equator. Sailors disguised as Neptune, Amphitrite, and other sea gods and
goddesses, appeared in triumphal cars upon the deck, made orations to the
Emperor and officers, and promised their blessing to the unbaptized, where-
upon the signal was given for a general showering and sprinkling, from
which the ladies only were entirely exempt. The water ran in streams over
the lower deck; at the close, the sailors danced merrily to the sound of
music, performed by a well-trained band, which afforded us a very pleasant
recreation every day.
(Countess Paula Kollonitz. The court of Mexico. By the Countess Paula
Kollonitz, lady-in-waiting to the Empress Charlotte. Translated by J. E.
Ollivant, M.A., Balliol College, Oxford. 2nd ed. London: Saunders,
Otley, and Co., 1868. p. 59.)
Crossing must have been in May, 1864 as they sailed from Trieste on April 14, 1864. Preface

is dated August, 1866; preface to second edition, Vienna, May 30, 1867; preface by translator,
Llandaff, September 25, 1867.

1866

On the 4th of August, 1866, crossed the Equator in about Longitude
1° 27’ 21” west, but were not favored with a visit from Neptune, who would
have had ample work from the number of green hands on board. As the days
of offerings to the Monarch of the Sea are over, he might be excused for a
display of ill-temper, but in case our escaping the penalty of weather is due
to disagreement between him and the clerk of the weather, we are perfectly
willing, from our knowledge of the “Ashuelot’s” seagoing qualities, that the
difficulty may continue.

(Manuscript diary of William A. H. Allen, assistant engineer, U. S. Navy,

in Library of Congress.)

Note how in 1884 Dana says that “this ancient custom is now seldom allowed, unless there
are passengers on board,” but leaves uncertain whether he is talking of merchant ships alone
or of the common custom on merchant or naval ships. In 1844 the tradition is faithfully ob-
served, even to the shaving and baptising of “the Reverend Clergy” in person of Father
DeSmet and his clerical assistants on their way to Oregon (DeSmet enough of a good fellow
at the end to thank “them for the entertainment they had afforded.”) In 1845 Chaplain Colton

of our navy reports that “this ceremony was found such an infraction of discipline, that it has
been discontinued on board our national ships. Our sailors were allowed to splice the main-

164 Crossing the Line
1866, continued

brace as a substitute.” Seven years later than this 1866 note, we shall see Allen telling of the
visit without further comment than that Neptune “came on board and received about a hundred
green ones as an addition to his kingdom,” on the U.S.S. Richmond.

Dana and DeSmet, to be sure, sailed on merchant ships — not on a national. Naval regula-
tions as to liquor are noted under Colton, 1845.

1869

.... C'était le soir, à minuit; l'équipage entier respirait le frais au gaillard
d’arriere, lorsqu'une grêle de haricots tomba de la mature.

— Crest le baptème qui commence, dit des haubans une voix de rogomme,
gare là-dessous, voici le père la Ligne qui s’avance!

C'était le père la Ligne en effet qui, sous la figure du deuxième harpon-
neur, descendait du grand mat.

Ceux qui n’avaient pas encore payé leur tribut à l'Equateur, se sauverent
aussitôt, qui dans les chambres, qui dans la cale; le chirurgien épouvanté
se cacha dans une barrique.

Le père la Ligne descendit de la mature, affublé d’une sorte de costume
moyen âge en toile à voile; une longue perruque et une barbe en étoupe
blanche garnissaient en partie sa tête, de façon à lui donner un air vénérable,
car le père la Ligne, comme Mathusalem, ne compte plus ses années.

Le troisième harponneur, pompeusement paré d’un costume de Neptune,
se laissa glisser au pied du mât de misaine; il tenait d’une main un harpon
en guise de trident.

La déesse Cérès descendit à son tour du mât d’artimon; c'était le plus
grassouillet et le moins barbu de tous les matelots: il portait, on ne peut
mieux, sa robe olympique, la relevant d’une main comme une lady et portant
de l’autre en éventail les attributs de son personnage.

A peine ces trois grotesques eurent-ils touché le pont, qu'une beuglement
formidable retentit au bout du grand foc et que le maître tonnelier apparut
déguisé en Pluton.

Le quatuor, s'étant réuni, fit trois ou quatre fois le tour du navire, jetant
des poignées de haricots au nez de ceux qui les regardaient de trop près,
s'arrêta autour du grand mât et tint conseil.

A trois heures du matin, il commanda ceux déjà baptisés pour dresser la
tente du suprême aréopage.

Cette tente fut établie à tribord sur le grand panneau.

On y plaça des sièges en gradins, et devant ces sièges, le tonneau à bas-
cule, la peinture, le goudron, la farine, le suif, l'huile, le duvet de poule, etc.

A six heures du matin, on pavoisa le navire.

A sept heures, tout était prêt.

Cependant, avant de commencer, il fallut precéder à la bénédiction du
mât d’artimon, ainsi que cela se pratique ordinairement.

On commanda tout le monde sur le pont, on pria le capitaine de s’avancer,
et quand il se trouva au milieu du cercle, le maître charpentier, la hache

The Nineteenth Century 165

levée, lui dit qu’il allait à l'instant couper le mât, s’il ne consentait à le faire
border, ce qui veut dire arroser le gosier de l'équipage.

Le capitaine versa lui-même un quart de cognac à chaque homme et
remit pour toute la journée son autorité aux mains de père la Ligne avec
lequel il trinqua.

Les officiers burent aussi à la santé de Cérès, de Pluton et de Neptune.

Ces préliminaires terminés, on enferma dans les chambres tous les hom-
mes devant être baptisés, on tira bon gré mal gré le petit chirurgien de
sa barrique, on le verrouilla soigneusement dans une cabine, malgré ses
lamentations, puis ceux qui devaient faire partie du cortège allèrent s’ha-
biller, chacun suivant son personnage.

A neuf heures tout le monde étant prêt, le carillon de la cloche du bord
announça le défilé.

Voici l'ordre dans lequel il marchait:

Le suisse et sa hallebarde.

Le prêtre chantant dans son bréviaire une macaronée appropriée à la cir-
constance.

Un enfant de choeur, c'était un novice breton, le plus petit; à ses côtés
trottait le bedeau, le plus rond de l'équipage.

Le père la Ligne et sa vénérable moitié, appuyés lun sur l'autre.

Neptune et son trident.

Pluton et sa famille.

Le barbier et son garçon.

Puis deux gendarmes trainant, la corde au cou, le malheureux dont le
supplice s’apprêtait.

La procession s'arrêta sous le tente.

Le père la Ligne et sa femme prirent place sur les fauteuils de la prési-
dence, les autres dignitaires s’assirent à leurs postes respectifs, et l’on re-
conduisit les néophytes dans les chambres, à exception du chirurgien par
lequel on devait commencer.

Le pauvre petit homme criait grâce avec un accent capable d’emouvoir
les coeurs les plus endurcis; mais le père la Ligne est d’une orthodoxie
féroce; il a horreur des anabaptistes; il les poursuit, les chatie, les baptise,
quoi qu’ils fassent et pour franchir l'Equateur sans encombre à l’avenir, il
faut absolument passer sous les fourches de sa religion.

Au fond, la pensée du dieu est charitable; it veut, en imposant ce premier
sacrifice aux matelots, les soustraire aux flammes éternelles, s'ils meurent
pendant la traversée.

Le chirurgien était donc resté devant le terrible tribunal; on lui avait lié
les pieds et les mains, puis on lui avait bandé les yeux.

Sur un signe du chef, le prêtre entonna un psaume insensé, et le barbier
sapprocha pour faire la toilette du patient, auquel il coupa d’abord les che-
veux du côté gauche et la moustache du coté droit. Il lui savonna ensuite
la tête et la figure avec un mélange de goudron, de peinture, de coaltar, et le

166 Crossing the Line
1869, continued

fit mettre à genoux sur le plancher bascule, recouvrant la cuve qui servait
de fonds baptismaux.

Cette cuve contenait douze barriques d’eau; elle était pleine jusqu'aux
bords.

Le chirurgien voulut crier, on lui imposa silence en lui appliquant sur la
bouche un porte-voix dans lequel il devait prêter le serment solennel de ne
jamais séduire la femme d’un marin.

A peine eut-il ouvert la bouche pour répéter les paroles du prêtre que
Neptune introduisit brusquement dans le portevoix un seau d’eau salée, en
même temps que l'enfant de choeur en glissait sournoisement une pinte sur
le bras levé du patient, entre la peau et la manche de l’habit.

— Je suis mort, s’écria le chirurgien à moitié asphyxié et toussant de façon
à rendre l’äme, tout en cherchant à essuyer l’eau qui lui glissait le long des
reins.

— Confessez-vous, mon fils, dit alors le prêtre d’un ton sépulcral, votre
dernière heure est arrivée.

— Ma dernière heure?

— Silence! hurla l'enfant de choeur en enfonçant jusqu’au manche, dans
la bouche ouverte du chirurgien, un pinceau de goudron qui lui servait de
goupillon.

— Hélas! prenez pitié de moi, sainte Vierge.

— Il ne s’agit pas ici de la sainte Vierge, mais du père La Ligne, riposta
rudement le prêtre. Allons, pas d’embardées, confessez-vous, si vous ne
voulez mourir en état de péché.

Le bedeau lut alors à haute voix une liste des crimes auprès desquels
ceux des Sodomites et des Gomorrhéens ne sont que simples peccadilles, et
tandis que l'enfant de choeur secouait en guise d’eau bénite son pinceau de
goudron, sur le visage du pénitent, le prêtre appréta l’hostie de Fabsolution.

Cette hostie consistait en un morceau de pomme de terre crue, enduit de
coaltar et de sciure de bois.

— Ouvrez le panneau (la bouche), cria le suisse.

Le chirurgien obéit comme un automate, le prêtre lui posa délicatement
amère pastille au fond du palais, Neptune fit jouer la bascule et le néo-
phyte recut enfin le baptême dans l’eau salée de la cuve.

Quand on le remit sur le pont, il était complètement ahuri; on le délia,
on lui rendit la vue, et il reçut pour finir la bénédiction du père La Ligne
qui permit d’embrasser son épouse en temoignage de sa haute satisfaction.

Cette dernière humiliation subie, on lui présenta le bidon des offrandes
et on lui permit d’aller se débarbouiller.

Ficel devait suivre immédiatement le chirurgien; mais comme il parais-
sait se prêter de bonne grâce au jeu, le baptême allait être réduit pour lui
à sa plus simple expression, c’est-à-dire qu'après lui avoir versé deux ou trois
seaux d’eau sur le chef et lui avoir fait faire un plongeon dans la cuve, le
père La Ligne le renverrait des fins de la plainte.

The Nineteenth Century 167

Mais cela ne faisait pas l'affaire du sous-lieutenant, qui ne l’aimait pas.

Dès que ce dernier vit le tribunal disposé en faveur du sculpteur, il in-
sinua que Ficel avait paru braver le père Equateur et qu'il était bon de
doubler les épreuves au lieu de les diminuer. Il proposa, en conséquence,
de bander les yeux à Ficel, de l’attacher par une drisse en dehors du navire
et de lui faire prendre un bain dans la mer... Lidée ne fut pas goütee par
l'équipage ...

Deux heures après le baptême était terminé.

Cependant, comme plusieurs novices demandaient à voir la ligne, Lussan
apporta sa longue vue, sur le verre de laquelle il avait collé un cheveu qui
simulait assez bien une ligne au soleil.

— Un instant, fit alors le petit chirurgien en s’avançant vivement, jai été
baptisé le premier, je veux être le premier à voir la ligne, il m'en a coûté
assez pour passer dessous.

— Soit, dit avec un grand sérieux le bonhome Equateur; regardez.

— Je regarde, repartit le chirurgien posant son oeil sur l'optique, bien
convaincu que la ligne allait lui apparaître.

— Voyez-vous?

— Oui, oui, oui, je vois, dit-il, émerveillé, contemplant le cheveu placé
à l'opposé du verre oculaire.

— Hissel fit alors le père Equateur à Neptune, qui versa un baquet d'eau
sur la tête du naïf chirurgien.

— Ah! exclama celui-ci en se sauvant; c’est une indignite, je n'en joue
plus; le baptème est fini.

— Oui, repartit Cérès; mais on ne prend pas gratis la hauteur du soleil.

Et la déesse administra sur le ventre du petit bonhomme une tape qui le
fit ployer en deux.

— J'en appellerai au gouvernement, repartit le chirurgien indigné.

— Le gouvernement, c'est moi, repartit le père la Ligne en se renversant.

— Hourra! hourra! crièrent en choeur les matelots, tandis que Neptune
braillait:

— Qui veut voir la ligne?

Bientôt, le père Equateur, son épouse et toute sa famille furent assaillis
par une grêle de projectiles; eau, la farine, le noir de fumée, les haricots
jaillirent d’un bout à l’autre du trois-mäts, au milieu de la gaieté générale.
Lussan même ne put se soustraire à cette avalanche, et Cérès étant montée
dans la mature, lui versa sur la tête une seille d’eau qu'elle y avait halée a
cet effet.

Seule, la cloche du diner mit fin à la mêlée.

Pour cette solennité, le menu se composait de tout ce qu'il y avait de
mieux dans les provisions du navire.

Le repas se prolongea fort avant dans la nuit . ...

(A. Dubarry. Le roman d’un baleinier. Paris, 1869. apud Mélusine, v. 2,
1884-5, columns 276-279.)

Another story laid on a whaler.

168 Crossing the Line

1870

May 11. From 4 to 6 p. m. At 4.30 called all hands to muster & commenced
to read the Articles of War, when the ship was hailed, the engines stopped
and the ship boarded by his Oceanic Majesty, King Neptune; when certifi-
cates were given to all those who had crossed the line, and tribute exacted
from the remainder. Steamed ahead again at 4.40. Weather warm & clear.

(Log of U.S.S. Flagship Colorado, 1st Rate, 47 guns. Captain George H.
Cooper, U.S. Navy. At sea making passage to China.)

Ten minutes were long enough this time according to the ship’s log. At least the engines
were ue that long.

The Colorado was commanded by Rear Admiral John Rodgers and bore Frederick Ferdinand
Low, our Minister to China, on a mission to negotiate a treaty with Korea.

Thanks to Rear Admiral John B. Heffernan, U.S.N. (Ret.), now Director of Naval Records
and Naval History (OP-29), we can quote the text of the certificate from King Neptune,
Sovereign of the Seas, Prince of Blowers, thus:

Know ye all by these presents

That R. Adm. John Rodgers A SEA WARRIOR in the service of my beloved
daughter-in-law COLUMBIA, having this day (or previously) paid the tribute re-
quired by me from all crossing the Equinoctial Line, is now FOREVER EXEMPT
from any and all tolls, fines, or taxes that may be levied by me or by my successors;
and should he enter our element, by accident or otherwise, I abjure all Sharks, Devil
Fish, and Sea Serpents to respect his person UNLESS VERY HUNGRY: Provided
he never ceased to uphold the honor of the Flag, which, next to my own, I hold
most sacred.

Done on Board COLUMBIA’S War Chariot, the COLORADO, near the Equator
on this 15th day of May, 1870.

This voyage brought forth another record of the crossing, Forecastle Echoes; or, Yarns in
verse; treating of noteworthy events in the cruise of the U.S. Frigate Colorado, flagship of the
Asiatic fleet, 1870-71. By Geo. R. Willis. Printed at the Japan Gazette office, 87 Main Street,
Yokahama. 27 pages. 12mo. Pages 10-12 give us the tale of the crossing:

Bipeds, advance, who ne’er before
Have passed the Mystic Zone;
Bow to your Sovereign and proffer
A tribute to the Throne!

“Ha there’s ‘fresh fish, —I plainly mark
The guilt betraying blush;

I here proclaim them, one and all,

Fit subjects for the brush.”

The Royal Barber grinned in glee,

The Shark stretched forth his fin,

And in his slimy clutches dragged

The struggling victims in.

Right valiantly they kicked, and fought;
Resistance proved in vain,

Old Neptune claimed the beards of all
New-comers on the main.

And in return he promised us
Fair winds, and pleasant seas;

(To verify his words, just then
Up sprung a pleasant breeze.)

The Nineteenth Century 169

On which the monarch donned his robes
And bade the fish avast.

“Pray, harness up the Royal Car,
Behold! the day wanes fast.”

And in those grand, and wave-like tones
No mortal can assume,

He blessed our ship, from truck to keel
And vanished in the gloom.

Cynics may sneer, and skeptics laugh,
And call our King a myth;

Yet we who sail his broad domain
Are loyal to the pith.

The Sons of Freedom own his sway,
And happiest thought of all —

Our King stands firm while earthly thrones
In angry strife shall fall.

And so we shout, Long live the King!
By all good tars adored,

And wish the doubters had been there,
When Neptune came aboard.

At Sea, May 20th, 1870.

1873

On the 19th [of June 1873] we sighted the only steamer we have seen, —
standing to the southward. In the evening were hailed by Neptune to ascer-
tain if any of his subjects who had not yet crossed the Line were on board.
Receiving an answer, he promised to board us the following day. On the
20th, he came on board and received about a hundred green ones as an
addition to his kingdom.

(Manuscript diary in Library of Congress. Kept by William A. H. Allen,
assistant engineer, U.S. Navy, on board U.S.S. Richmond, crossing about
4 a.m. in longitude 28° 57’ 45” west.)

This time, in contrast to Allen’s crossing in 1866, nothing is said about the ceremony as
anything but the accepted rule of faith and practice. Splicing the mainbrace seems to have
lasted until the days of Josephus Daniels as Secretary of the Navy.

1875

Einige gute Tage brachten uns schnell vorwärts. Dann kamen wieder einige
schlechte Tage. Der grosse Bar und der Polarstern tauchten immer tiefer
hinab, und vor uns stieg das südliche Kreuz in die Héhe.

Der südliche Sternenhimmel ist öde im Vergleich mit dem unsrigen, und
um sich für die Schönheit des südlichen Kreuzes begeistern zu können, muss

170 Crossing the Line
1875, continued

man entweder ein kritikloser Mucker oder ein noch kritikloserer Reiseen-
thusiast ein, den schon der Gedanke an die grosse Entfernung von zu Hause
in Ekstase zu setzen vermag. Viel interessanter und merkwürdiger als jene
vier unbedeutenden im Trapezoid gestellten Sterne war mir das schwarze
Loch neben ihnen, welches die Seeleute den Kohlensack nennen.

Am 20. Dezember [1875] feierten wir das Fest des Passirens der Linie in der
altherkömmlichen Weise mit Neptun, Barbiererei und Taufe. Wir hatten
zwar seit drei Tagen wieder keine Observation gehabt und wussten nicht
bestimmt, ob wir schon so weit waren. Den Himmel bedeckten dunkle
Wolken, echt tropische Regengüsse stürzten zuweilen herab, bleiern und
todesstill lag der Ozean rings umher, kaum ein Lüftchen regte sich, und wir
trieben, hilflos, ohne Steuer, die Spitze des Schiffes rückwärts nach Norden
gewendet. Als wir zwei Tage später endlich die Sonne und damit Observa-
tion bekamen, stellte sich heraus, dass wir zu früh gefeiert und dass wir noch
nicht den Aequator überschritten hatten. Erst nach weiteren vier Tagen ge-
langten wir am 27. Dezember wirklich und zweifellos auf die südliche Hemi-
sphäre, und zwar ziemlich genau unter dem 29. Grad westlicher Länge von
Greenwich. Aber kein Mensch ausser dem Kapitän, dem Steuermann und
mir erfuhr unseren Irrthum, vielleicht auch das offizielle Journal nicht.

Schon seit einer Woche waren die Matrosen eifrig daran, die Maskerade
für den Neptunszug, einen Dreizack aus Blech und Bärte aus Flachs für ihn
und sein Gefolge, einen Fischschwanz aus Pappe und Locken aus Hobelspä-
nen für seine Gemahlin, ein grosses meterlanges Rasirmesser aus Holz für den
Barbier und andere derlei Geräthe vorzubereiten.

Einige englische Kolonien haben den äquatorialen Mummenschanz, bei
dem es erfahrungsgemäss fast nie ohne Rohheiten und Zänkereien zwischen
Mannschaft und Passagieren abgeht, auf ihren Emigrantenschiffen verboten.
Neuseeland war damals noch nicht so rigoros, und obwohl ich keinen sonder-
lichen Werth auf jenes Ueberbleibsel der sogenannten guten alten Zeit legte,
so liess ich dasselbe doch seinen Lauf nehmen, aus keinem vernünftigern
Grunde, als um einen rothen Strich mehr in den Bädecker meiner Erlebnisse
machen zu dürfen.

Da wir eben trieben, und nichts zu thun war, konnte die ganze Mannschaft
an dem Scherz sich betheiligen. Der Aufzug verlief, wie er schon oft be-
schrieben worden ist. Die phantastisch geschmückte Schaar verfügte sich
nach dem Vorderdeck und kletterte vorne am Bugspriet über Bord, um
scheinbar aus dem Wasser heraufzukommen. Hinten über der Kajüte stunden
der Kapitän und die Offiziere. “Schip ahoi!” rief vorne Neptun durch das
Sprachrohr, und der Bootsmann wurde abgesandt, ihn zum Besuch einzula-
den. Neptun und sein Gefolge bewegten sich langsam und gravitätisch heran,
zu beiden Seiten das dichte Gewühl der neugierig sich drängenden Zwischen-
decker. Eine zackige Krone aus Goldpapier schmückte das Haupt des drei-
zackbewaffneten Fluthenbeherrschers, von dem eine mächtige flachserne

The Nineteenth Century IA

Mähne herabwallte. An seiner Seite trippelte züchtiglich die holde Amphi-
trite, unser ältester Schiffsjunge, der nicht ohne Geschmack zu einem zinno-
bergeschminkten, hochbusigen und hobelspähnelockigen Frauenzimmer mit
langer Schleppe von Sackleinwand herausstaffirt war. Voran schritt als Herold
der Barbier, ein seemannischer Anachronismus, mit riesiger Brille und Vater-
mördern, das gewaltige bretterne Rasirmesser auf der Schulter. Hinterdrein
marschirten die Schergen der maritimen Polizei, mehr oder minder gelungen
phantastisch geputzt, hölzerne Säbel in den Händen schwingend.

Neptun hielt nun seine Anrede an den Kapitän, und das übliche Frage- und
Antwortspiel, wie das Schiff heisse, woher es käme und wohin es gehe, ent-
wickelte sich. Nach diesen Präliminarien, die sehr ledern waren und sowohl
dem Neptun nebst Gefolge als auch dem Kapitän so vorkommen mochten,
da sie ziemlich verlegene Gesichter schnitten, nahm ersterer auf einem im-
provisirten Throne hinter dem Grossmast Platz und schickte seine Schergen
aus, um die Opfer, diejenigen an Bord, die zum ersten mal die Linie passirten,
vorführen zu lassen. Von den Passagieren durften nur solche ergriffen werden,
die sich freiwillig dazu erboten, und um mit gutem Beispiel voranzugehen,
unterzog ich mich selbst der peinlichen Prozedur der Aequatortaufe.

Ein grosser Bottich mit Wasser stund vor Neptun, ein darüber gelegtes
Brett war der Sitz für den Täufling. Ein Gehilfe des Barbiers frug nach Na-
men und Alter, registrirte solches in ein dickes Buch, profaner Weise eine
alte Bibel, dann kam der Barbier, schmierte aus einem Kübel mit vollen
Händen Seifenschaum über das ganze Gesicht und kratzte ihn wieder ab
mit seiner Rasirkeule. Der ätzende Seifenschaum verbot die Augen zu öffnen,
ein plötzlicher Ruck, das Brett wurde weggezogen, man plumpste rücklings
in das Wasser des Bottichs, die Taufe war vollzogen.

Ich hatte mir ausgebeten, nur mit der besten und reinlichsten Seife be-
dient zu werden und als erster zu leiden. Nicht so glimpflich wie ich wurden
diejenigen behandelt, die nach mir kamen. Zunächst Mister Ross und etwa
zwanzig andere junge Männer von den Zwischendeckspassagieren, zuletzt
die Neulinge unter der Mannschaft, unser Ganymed Hannes, der in der
Nordsee so Schreckliches erduldet, mittlerweile jedoch mit dem Meere ver-
trauter geworden war, jener Decksjunge, der sich damals versteckt hatte,
und ein Matrose. Diese drei letzteren wurden auf die alte qualvolle Weise
barbiert und getauft. Für sie gab es eine eigens präparirte Seife zweiter Quai-
ität, die stark mit Theer versetzt war und noch etliche Tage Mund und Augen
verklebte. Beim Rasiren kam es auf einige Stückchen Haut nicht an, und das
Taufen wurde ihnen so gründlich zu Theil, dass sie halberstickt, heftig
spuckend und hustend, dem Bottich entstiegen. Auch auf die frommen Mis-
sionäre hatten es die Matrosen abgeschen und wolten sie vor Neptuns Thron
schleppen, aber sie schrieen so kläglich um Hilfe, dass der Kapitän sie zu
retten eilte. Raketen und Bluelights und eine Ration Schnaps für die Matrosen
verherrlichten den Abend dieses denkwürdigen Tages.

(Max Buchner. Reise durch den Stillen Ozean. Breslau, 1878. p. 46-49.)

172 Crossing the Line
1884

The ceremony best known among those practiced among sailors, and con-
cerning which much has been written, is that observed in modern times,
“on crossing the line,” from north into south latitude, or vice versa, as the
case may be.

This custom, still observed as a pastime among sailors, is another of
those remarkable survivals of ancient practices begun as actual worship of
some diety, and finally existing as mere customs, without any significance.
Anciently the Greeks sacrificed, on nearing any prominent cape, on many
of which temples to the deities were placed. During the middle ages, the
present ceremony of receiving a visit from a fictitious Neptune, arose, when
it was not, of course, performed at the equator, but on arriving within the
tropics, crossing the Arctic Circle, and even in passing certain capes, etc.

Aubin [Dictionnaire Nautique (1702). Art. Baptéme] quotes some older
writer concerning this ceremony: “It is a custom practiced from all anti-
quity, that those who are apprenticed to the sea, and who pass certain places,
where they have never passed, undergo this penalty, under the favorable
name of Baptism; that is, to be cast from the yard-arm into the sea. The
ships also are subjected to this ceremony, so ridiculous (of Baptism). It may
be said that is a recompense for the rejection by the Reformers, of that which,
among the Roman Catholics, has remained an act of religion; these latter
baptizing effectively their ships, the first time they are placed in the sea.
When the occasion presented, and the ships arrived in these consecrated
places, that is to say, where they had never been, the master was obliged to
redeem them; otherwise the crew at once proceeded to cut off the ship’s nose,
or the whole outer part of the prow, or to disfigure or destroy some
other part of the ship. Those whom they will to cast from the yard-arms into
the sea, could redeem themselves by giving money to the crew. As to the
boys, instead of dipping them from the yard-arms, they put them under a
basket surrounded by tubs full of water, and each one dipped it out with
buckets and threw water on them.”

In after times, the ruder features of this ceremony were dropped, while
the essential ones, baptism and a penalty, were retained, and a more ex-
tended ceremony added.

The same author describes this ceremony as occurring in French ships
about the middle of the seventeenth century: “As a preparation, there are
ranged on the upper deck, on both sides, tubs full of sea-water, and sailors,
formed in two rows, stand near, each with a bucket in his hand. The chief
steward comes to the foot of the mainmast, his face fullbearded, and his
body attired in gaskets, entirely surrounding him, and ropes’ ends hanging
from his arms. He is followed by five or six sailors, equipped in the same
manner, and holds in his hand some marine book, to represent the Gospels
of the Evangelists. The man who is to be baptized kneels before the steward,

The Nineteenth Century 173

who making him put his hand on the book, forces him to promise that when-
ever an occasion presented itself of baptizing others, he would impose upon
them the same ceremonies which were inflicted on him. After this oath, the
one to be baptized rises, and, marching between the rows of tubs, and the
people who wait for him with buckets full, he reaches the bow, and thus
receives what is called the baptism.”

A description of this ceremony, celebrated about the same time, and given
by M. Jal [Glossaire Nautique, from Oexmelin, Histoire des Flibustiers],
shows that the usages of the present time with regard to it were already ob-
served: “The second mate, dressed as Neptune, wore a long cap on his head,
and a fringed collar of parrel-trucks and small blocks. His long beard, and
hair, made of tow, were matted with sea shells, and his face was blackened.
In his hands he carried a chart-book (such a book was then called a Neptune),
opened at the chart showing the position of the ship. Each one of the crew
knelt before him, and swore by bread and salt that he had previously passed
the line. If not, the mate dubbed them kneeling, with a blow of his wooden
sword, and the crew then threw water over each victim until he paid a pen-
alty of wine or money.”

The same authority tells us that in Dutch ships, during the seventeenth
century, the roll was called by the clerk of the ship, when passing these
places, and each man answered to his name, and indicated whether he had
passed the place before or not. If he had not, he was fined, and compelled to
pay fifteen sols, or else was attached to a rope, hoisted to the main yard-arm,
and dipped three times into the sea. The officers were fined thirty sols, the
passengers mulcted of all they would pay.

These are the earliest descriptions of this ceremony, but we learn that be-
tween the voyages of Columbus, in 1492, when no mention is made of it,
and 1529, the French created a sort of an order of knighthood, the “Cheva-
liers de la Mer” (Knights of the Sea), by giving novices an accolade on the
shoulder when passing these places, and giving a feast after each ceremony.
[Journal of J. Parmentier, in Jal. Glossaire Nautique, Bâptème.]

During the middle-ages, the novice was often terrified at the horrible
appearance of Neptune and his crew, and was usually bidden to watch for
lights near the chosen spots.

De Plancy [Dictionnaire Infernale] says the Devil was caricatured in
costume, in the Neptune ceremony, being brought on board in a cask.

It was especially the custom among Dutch mariners to observe these cere-
monies at Capes Raz and Bailonges. Even admirals were compelled to pay
these fines. The clerk bought wines for the crew with the money thus gained.
So greatly was this privilege abused, that the Dutch East India Company
prohibited these fines in 1669, and Charles IX. of Sweden, some years pre-
vious to this, abolished the right to claim fines, and allowed to each of the
crew a bottle of wine on crossing the equator and the tropic circle. [Jal.
Glossaire Nautique, Baptéme. ]

174 Crossing the Line
1884, continued

This ceremony, as performed in modern times, has been often described.
It is now observed merely as a pastime among sailors, only on crossing the
equator, and officers and passengers are rarely troubled.

Hone [Table Book, Vol. I, 630] describes it as performed on board whaling
vessels, early in the present century, on the first day of May, or on crossing
the Arctic circle. The novices were kept below decks, and a barber-shop was
fitted up, with a sign, “Neptune’s Easy-shaving Shop, Kept by John Johnson.”
Then a procession, consisting of ten fiddlers, dressed in mats and rags, Nep-
tune riding on a gun-carriage, with his usual retinue of tritons, etc., was
formed. On reaching the quarter-deck, Neptune interrogated the captain,
asking the name of the ship, her destination, and similar questions, and, on
three quarts of rum being produced, drank the captain’s health. The novices
were then brought up, questioned as to their names, ages, destinations, etc.,
and were then put through the usual rough shaving process.

Chaplain Rockwell [Sketches of Foreign Travel, 1847] tells us that among
the usual features of the procession during the early part of the present cen-
tury, was a trio composed of two bears led by a triton. He says some explain
this as a representation of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, disappearing under
the horizon as the equator is crossed, under the guidance of Arctophylax
(Boötes).

Marryat gives an excellent description of the modern ceremony . . . [foot-
note reference to Mildmay; the Bassett summary is omitted here because it
is quoted in full under 1829].

The ceremony is sometimes observed among the fishermen on Newfound-
land’s banks. [Fish and Men in the Maine Islands. Harper's, May, 1884.]
“Practical jokes are played on greenhorns on their first visit to the banks,
where Neptune, in a garment of rock-weed, sometimes comes on board the
regular passenger boat, on arriving at the whirlpool called Wirbel, the steers-
man goes about with water in a scoop, which he throws upon the passengers
who have not passed before.

(Fletcher S. Bassett, Lieutenant U.S. Navy. Sea Phantoms: or, Legends
and superstitions of the sea and of sailors in all lands and at all times.
Chicago, Morrill, Higgins & Co., 1892. rev. ed. p. 416-420.)

This octavo of 505 pages has an impressive array of authorities — some first hand tales, some
second hand. It came to my notice too late to follow the new leads suggested by its footnotes.
It is entered here under date of the author’s preface. Compare the references here given to
Parmentier with the original text as quoted under 1529, and to Esquemeling as quoted under
1666.

1885

[April 23] At 7.80 p. m., the startling cry of “ship ahoy!” was heard fore and
aft; there’s Neptune! there’s Neptune! said all who heard the hail. “Halloo!”
was answered from the bridge by the Officer of the Deck; and the questions
of the interrogator, of what ship, where bound, etc., were answered by the
Officer. ... Who are you? in a commanding tone . . . : Neptune, King of the

The Nineteenth Century 175

Seas, was answered, followed by a request to heave to... . In obedience to
the request the Officer of the Deck rang two bells, at the same time informing
the Admiral and Captain through their orderlies that his Majesty was along
side and desired to see them. Call all hands to muster, was now the order
from the Officer of the Deck; the Boatswain’s mates sounded their calls, and
passed the order in a loud tone of voice, the ship’s company immediately
assembled on the port side, the Admiral, Captain and Officers at their
customary stations on the starboard side, of the quarterdeck. Neptune, ac-
companied by his wife, had by this time reached the quarter-deck; they
boarded the ship over the starboard bow, instead of coming aboard by the
more convenient way of the sealadder at the starboard gangway, which he
was requested to use, if not for his own convenience, at least out of respect
for his consort. ...

[Here Neptune addressed the Admiral and Captain in 24 lines of rimes
“composed by John Bezanson, Quarter Gunner,” paying respects to Admiral
English, Captain Potter, and his “fine ship” with “big guns,” recommending
that the “good crew” be made better by shaving, introducing “my wife,
Amphitrite, the Queen,” and promising to be “ready with my razor and
lotion” tomorrow at nine when “you'll be crossing my line.”]

After finishing his address Neptune engaged the Admiral in conversation
for a few moments, in which old times were referred to. Receiving his promise
of returning on the following morning, he handed to the Admiral a package
containing telegrams from the Equatorial Submarine Telegraph Company
(Limited ), and a mail bag containing letters for the officers and some of the
crew, as well as certificates for all of the officers and crew whom he recog-
nized as subjects; and similar ones, with the name and date blank, which
were to be filled out and delivered to all who should on the following day
undergo the process necessary to make them children of the sea.

Good night all hands! and he was gone. [All received their mail from the
Master-at-Arms — a “Fac-simile of King Neptune’s Certificates, (one quarter
size.)” is printed on page 3 — and thought of the morrow. ]

At 9.00 À. M. on the morning of the 24th, everything was in readiness for
the day’s sport, all hands were called to muster, and . . . assembled on the
quarter-deck . . . . [Neptune] before presenting himself to the Admiral and
Captain . . . ordered his police, headed by their chief, to form in two ranks
in the starboard gangway. As soon as they were in marching order the band,
which was stationed on the forecastle, struck up the Policeman’s Song. They
stepped out, marched down the starboard gangway to the mainmast, halted,
faced to the front and sang: —

When constabulary duties are to be done,
You will generally find us basking in the sun.
Taking one consideration with another,
Neptune's force is a bully one, bully one.
When we are sent for any one,

You bet your life they come....

176 Crossing the Line
1885, continued

They emphasized the last word of each line by bringing down their clubs
together on deck with a whang; when finished singing, they faced to the
right, marched forward, and formed on both sides of Neptune’s Chariot, he
now being ready to be presented to the Admiral and Captain... .

The Chariot, on which he and his wife were seated, was made by lashing
two halliard racks together; the motive power, eight of his followers, manned
a drag rope secured to it; with his long grey beard of teazed manilla, tin
crown on his head, and trident in right hand, he looked every inch a King.
His better half, with long blonde hair of the same material as his whiskers,
a richly colored calico dress, formerly the property of the ship’s minstrel
troupe, and stockingless and shoeless pedal extremities, she looked very
little the Queen... . The Doctor, evidently a renegade from this mundane
sphere, under his Majesty’s protection, [brought] a grip sack well filled with
... medicines .... The police, “rigged up” in what Neptune’s better half
had left of the minstrel’s property, suppllied] deficiencies with gunny sacks,
pieces of canvas, and the liberal use of paint ....

Neptune, being satisfied with the appearance of his retinue, concluded to
move aft; the services of the band were brought into requisition, and to the
enlivening strains of a march, the procession moved slowly aft. When the head
of the line reached the mainmast, the Signal Quartermaster hoisted and broke
at the main his Majesty’s Royal Standard, which consisted of a white field six-
teen feet by eight feet, bearing the inscription Neptunus Rex; in the center of
the field was painted a large dolphin, and each of the four corners were or-
namented with shell fish painted thereon. On the right of Neptune, manning
a stout line secured to the neck of the stuffed effigy of a horse, stood twelve
seamen bold, with countenances beaming with pleasure in consequence of
the pleasant duty they were about to perform, which was nothing less than
celebrating in manner following the death of poor old horse. As Neptune
moved aft they at the same instant straightened out taut their line and com-
menced to drag the horse aft, each one in his turn singing a verse of a “shanty”,
to which all joined in chorus, the long strong pulls together being regulated
by certain emphasized words in each line of song and chorus. Arriving abreast
of the starboard gangway, they halted until Neptune's retinue had passed
them, then picking up the old horse, they launched him with a shout into
the big drink. This little side-show was intended to illustrate an event in the
life of a sailor on a long voyage; that is, that he had been long enough on
the voyage to work up his advance wages, or as he terms it, the “dead horse”,
and even in the pure atmosphere that he is accustomed to live carrion is
objectionable as company, and so old horse must go not to the boneyard but
overboard. Arriving on the quarter-deck, the policemen, bears, and other
followers of Neptune halted and formed, faced to the front or inboard. Nep-
tune and wife, followed by the Doctor and Barber on foot, continued on aft
until within a few feet of the Admiral and Captain, when he and his wife
alighted, bowed to the Admiral and Captain, and without further ado counter-

The Nineteenth Century 177

marched forward to the bridge to commence the shaving. Neptune’s wife on
the arm of the Admiral, and Neptune himself escorted by the Captain. In
their rear followed the Doctor, Barber, Clerk, and Officers of the Ship; the
ship’s company at the same time rushed forward to secure the best possible
places to witness the shaving.

Amidships on the bridge were grouped, standing, the Admiral, Captain
and Officers. Neptune and wife were seated on the starboard side of the
bridge. On the port side was a large tub containing the lather made of soap,
molasses, and flour, over which the Barber and assistants kept a watchful eye.
The Doctor stood hard by to render assistance whenever his professional
services should be required. Neptune’s Secretary, who was an important
character, must not be forgotten; he also occupied a place on the bridge;
his duties required him to call the names as they were arranged on lists in
his possession of the individuals to be shaved. As the names were called, the
victims either presented themselves voluntarily, or the ship was searched
for them by the police. They reached the bridge by a ladder leading from
the starboard side; arriving on the bridge, they received a nod of recognition
from Neptune and were hurried across the bridge, turned over to the barber,
received a good share of lather, applied with a white-wash brush, had it
partly removed by a large wooden razor in the hands of the barber, and
then they were carefully lifted from the bridge and dropped into an awning
in the port gangway, so secured as to form a large tub, which was filled with
water by a hose connected to the steam pumps. While in the awning, the
individual shaved was attended to by the bears of Neptune, who were there
to receive him; after undergoing a good ducking he was allowed to scramble
out, and he was HENCEFORTH considered a bona fide son of the sea. As
each new victim received his dose the cheers and laughter of the crew ex-
pressed their appreciation of the fun.

[Two further episodes are described: near the starboard gangway appears
suddenly the late Honorable Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Chandler, who is
received with tremendous cheers — and sent to the bottom of the sea by
stern command of Neptune; climax of the sport is the discovery that G.
Savasta, Chief Musician, has “endeavored to escape shaving by securing a
certificate under false pretences,” he now receiving an extra lathering and
“both edge and back of the razor.” It was now “nearing the hour of twelve”;
Neptune bade all good-bye and a pleasant passage — and returned “to the
quiet recesses of the ship, to enjoy the beer received by the payment of the
forfeits.”

(James Brady. King Neptune’s visit to the U. S. Flagship Lancaster.
Written by James Brady, Schoolmaster, Flagship Lancaster, 1885. 8 p.)

At this time the Lancaster was flagship of the European Squadron cruising off the west coast
of Africa, shifting from north to south latitude on 23 April 1885 and arriving at French Point,
River Congo, on the 28th following.

178 Crossing the Line
1897

Sept. 5. Closing in on the equator this noon. A sailor explained to a young
girl that the ship’s speed is poor because we are climbing up a bulge toward
the center of the globe; but that when we should once get over, at the
equator, and start down-hill, we should fly. When she asked him the other
day what the fore-yard was, he said it was the front yard, the open area in
the front end of the ship. That man has a good deal of learning stored up,
and the girl is likely to get it all.

Afternoon. Crossed the equator. In the distance it looked like a blue ribbon
stretched across the ocean. Several passengers kodak’d it. We had no fool
ceremonies, no fantastics, no horse-play. All that sort of thing has gone out.
In old times a sailor, dressed as Neptune, used to come in over the bows,
with his suite, and lather up and shave everybody who was crossing the
equator for the first time, and then cleanse these unfortunates by swinging
them from the yard-arm and ducking them three times in the sea. This was
considered funny. Nobody knows why. No, that is not true. We do know why.
Such a thing could never be funny on land; no part of the old-time grotesque
performances gotten up on shipboard to celebrate the passage of the line
could ever be funny on shore — they would seem dreary and witless to
shore people. But the shore people would change their minds about it at sea,
on a long voyage. On such a voyage, with its eternal monotonies, people's
intellects deteriorate; the owners of the intellects soon reach a point where
they almost seem to prefer childish things to things of a maturer degree. One
is often surprised at the juvenilities which grown people indulge in a sea,
and the interest they take in them, and the consuming enjoyment they get
out of them. This is on long voyages only. The mind gradually becomes inert,
dull, blunted; it loses its accustomed interest in intellectual things; nothing
but horse-play can rouse it, nothing but wild and foolish grotesqueries can
entertain it. On short voyages it makes no such exposure of itself; it hasn’t
time to slump down to this sorrowful level.

(Samuel Langhorne Clemens. Following the equator; a journey around
the world. By Mark Twain. Hartford, Connecticut [1897] p. 65-69.)

The vocabulary is typical Mark Twain. How much study did he give to the ceremony before
settling the question? If the initiation ceremony at the passing of the mouth of the Platte
upward bound on the Missouri had ever come to the notice of Sam Clemens, the Mississippi
pilot, one would expect mention of it here. And the crossing of the height of land between the
Great Lakes and the Pacific and Hudson’s Bay watershed would be ruled out here as mere
landsmen’s frivolities.

Reprinted with permission of Harper & Brothers.

THE TWENTIETH CENTURY
1904

There is an old custom among sailors that if a person has never been across
the equator before, he must be ducked in the sea when he first crosses that
line. There was some talk in fun among the passengers of ducking two or
three of us on board who had never been across, but no effort was made. I
think they feared we would make a fight and possibly duck some of the other
fellows.

(Richard Alexander Fullerton Penrose. Life and letters of R. A. F. Pen-
rose, Jr. By Helen R. Fairbanks and Charles P. Berkey. New York, 1952.
p. 343 of the manuscript diary, 18 July 1904.)

ca. 1910

On this voyage we had a number of young people on board who were cross-
ing the equator for the first time, so Neptune kindly offered to leave his
ocean depths and to board the ship, in the good old-fashioned orthodox style
to further these young folks’ education. Just as we crossed the Line, the ship
was hailed from the sea, her name and destination were ascertained, and she
was peremptorily ordered to heave to, Neptune naturally imagining that he
was still dealing with sailing ships. The engines were at once stopped, and
Neptune, with his Queen, his Doctor, his Barber, his Sea Bears and the rest
of his Court, all in their traditional get-up, made their appearance on the
upper deck, to the abject terror of some of the little children, who howled
dismally at this alarming irruption of half-naked savages with painted faces.
I myself enacted Neptune in an airy costume of fish-scales, a crown, and a
flowing beard and wig of bright sea-green. Of course my Trident had not
been forgotten. Amphitrite, my queen, was the star-comedian of the South
African music-hall stage, and the little man was really extraordinarily funny,
keeping up one incessant flow of rather pungent gag, and making the spec-
tators roar with laughter. All the traditional ceremonies and good-natured
horseplay were scrupulously adhered to, and some twenty schoolboys and
five adults were duly dosed, lathered, shaved, hosed, and then toppled back-
wards into a huge canvas tank of sea-water, where the boys persisted in swim-
ming about in all their clothes. The proceedings were terminated by Neptune
and his entire Court following the neophytes into the tank, and I am afraid
that we induced some half-dozen male spectators to accompany us into the
tank rather against their will, one old German absolutely fuming with rage
at the unprecedented liberty that was being taken with him.
(Lord Frederic Hamilton. Here, there, and everywhere. New York
[copyright 1921] p. 278-279.)

This voyage from Capetown is noteworthy for one of the rare performances on crossing from
the south and also for having Neptune and his Queen enacted by the passengers, not the seamen.
Date not given, but probably before 1914.

[179]

180 Crossing the Line

ca. 1910, continued

Reprinted with permission of the executor of the will of the late Lord Frederic Hamilton,
through Messrs. A. P. Watt & Son of London.

1911

On the fourteenth of July we approached “the line,” said by geographers
to be imaginary, but proving to us very real. The first indication of it was at
dinner time, when a deep voice from the bow called “ship ahoy, any novices
on board?” There were; and we were warned that Neptune would be on
board about three o’clock. As six bells struck, sure enough, old grey-bearded
Neptune, trident in hand, appeared from the bow, followed by his buxom
fair-haired wife, his daughter fresh from a marine ballet, his bibulous doctor,
and a crew of minions. After parading the deck, these ancient celebrities
mounted a throne on the after-deck and called for the novices. Each man
was called up before Neptune, who questioned him as to his purposes in
entering his realm. Next we were examined by the “doctor,” who always
prescribed some of his yellow, pink or blue liquids or watersoaked biscuits,
which remedies were administered down the back or up the sleeve. Then the
candidate was seized by the minions and taken to the “barber,” who lathered
with a whitewash brush, shaved with the great two-foot wooden razor, and
powdered with soot. During this the victim was seated on the edge of the
tank, and as the process was nearing completion, was tumbled head over
heels into the water, rising to meet the full force of the ship’s hose as he
came up. We all went through this with the others, including a couple of
sailors and stewards, while the assembled steerage fairly gloated over us;
until at the end the hose was turned upon them. Then Neptune and his fol-
lowing, assisted by the initiates, plunged into the water and the ceremony
was over. Later each of us received an illuminated certificate assigning us
to various fish families, and entitling us to rove at pleasure over the seven
seas.

How old the ceremony is I do not know, but a Spanish traveler in the early
part of the seventeenth century describes just such a ceremony as the
“rescate” or ransom, differing from the above only in that the duckings, etc.,
were imposed because the novices would not give satisfactory reasons for
entering Neptune's domain, and the captain was fined a dinner for the whole
crowd. It is doubtless a mockery of the ancient custom of sacrificing to the
god of the sea to propitiate him when the early voyagers entered his realm;
but it must have been a deep rooted custom to have survived with so much
detail and uniformity. It is only on the palatial passenger boats that the
ceremony is dying out.

(Frederick Brewster Loomis. Hunting extinct animals in the Patagonian
pampas. New York, 1913. p. 17-18 with half-tone plate of the ceremony. )

One more unanswered question. Who is the early 17th century Spanish traveler who describes

such a ceremony as the “rescate” or ransom?
Reprinted with permission of Dodd, Mead & Company, publishers.

The Twentieth Century 181

1913

The “Crossing of the Line” occurred on August 81st. The event had been
anticipated by many with interest and curiosity. One gentleman, speaking
about the matter, remarked: “We shall no doubt feel it an hour or two before
we get there, and probably an hour or two afterward.” As the equator is an
imaginary line, what my friend expected to feel I am at a loss to imagine.
Another fellow-voyager approached me and seriously inquired “how long
I thought it would take us to get over the line.” When I told him the feat
might be accomplished in about a second of time he looked mystified and
even disappointed. I did not press him to explain himself. It would hardly
have been polite to do so. To what sort of nautical acrobatics he was looking
forward will ever remain a puzzle to me. On the morning of the eventful day
a proclamation was read at breakfast, announcing that Father Neptune and
his daughter, attended by their court, would appear on board at two o’clock
in the afternoon, and then proceed to initiate into the mysterious rites of his
realm all those who were for the first time invading his domains south of the
equator. During the forenoon of the day there were many conferences be-
tween the “committee of arrangements” and the proprietors of a circus, who
were traveling as second-class passengers. At the appointed hour a procession
took place upon the upper deck. It was headed by Neptune and his daughter.
Neptune was clothed in a sea-green robe, held his trident, wore a crown of
gilded pasteboard, surmounting his flowing locks which were composed of
strands of oakum. The discerning eye detected under the disguise the ro-
tund outlines of the purser; and under that of his daughter the somewhat
diminutive form of the second steward.

The reason for the frequent conferences, which had been held with the
owners of the side-show in the morning, now became plain. The theatrical
properties of the troupe had been brought into requisition. The chief stew-
ard arrayed as a ballet dancer, and the barber, wearing the mask of a clown,
on his head a fiery red wig and in his hands a razor three feet long made of
gilded wood were prominent among the merrymakers. A motley company
composed of the ringleaders in “the smoking-room crowd” wearing masks
and strange disguises followed. A platform had been erected in front of the
swimming tank. On it the chief steward, provided with a whitewash brush
and a big bucket of paste, took his place. Beside him stood the barber, strop-
ping his gigantic razor upon a yard of burlap tied to a derrick-boom. The
first victim was a young lady who seemed to feel that it was her duty to be
initiated. She came forward smiling, wearing a silk gown. She seated herself
upon the barber’s stool. Her head was anointed with paste, the barber made
a few passes with his mimic razor, and then in a twinkling, heels over head,
she was flung backward and soused in the tank by the minions of Neptune.
The ship’s surgeon and the fourth officer were the next victims. They were
followed by others until the tank was full. Those who were floundering in
the bath now resolved upon reprisals. The first attack was made upon the

182 Crossing the Line
1913, continued

chief steward. He was seized from behind and waltzed into the tub, from
which he emerged looking like a drowned rat. After him came the barber,
from whose pockets, crammed with colored papers, oozed bright green,
pink, and yellow dye-stuff. “Beau-ti-ful as the rainbow!” he exclaimed, as
he crawled out of the tank and again took his place on the platform, and
began to strop his razor. The fun now rose to its height. One by one the
company of merrymakers were caught and protesting, struggling, kicking,
rolling, were brought to the tank and flung over its sides. It no longer con-
tained sparkling water, but a broth of paste, paint, floating wigs, and other
accoutrements. Those who had met their baptism in it had an hours work
before them in their private baths to remove the stains of their experience.
Each reveler received a diploma, properly signed and sealed by Neptune,
attesting the fitness of the recipient to sail “the seven seas.”

(William Jacob Holland. To the River Plate and back. New York, 1913.
p. 20-22.)

Another rare instance of passengers or officers portraying courtiers of Neptune.
Reprinted with permission of G. P. Putnam’s Sons, publishers.

1919

[In 1919] We held smokers and Happy Hours en route to Rio, [on U.S.S.
Idaho, taking down to Brazil the President of Brazil and his party] but the
big event of the voyage was “crossing the line” when we ceremoniously con-
verted polliwogs into shellbacks. This was the first of my four round trips
over Neptune’s mythical frontier, and I was well lathered by the royal bar-
bers, paddled by his pirates and after being tossed into the tank, manhandled
by the polar bears — all in the presence of our laughing guests from Brazil.
(p. 101-102)

The Fleet visited Valparaiso, Chile, in the summer of 1921. We again staged
an elaborate “Neptunus Rex party” when we crossed the Equator, and being a
shellback, I found the excitement a great deal more enjoyable than the first
time. Lieutenant Commander Daniel J. Callaghan, assistant gunnery officer,
paid the penalty for being an especially popular shipmate by being subjected
to all the most barbarous forms of equatorial torture. The members of the
ship’s raceboat crew, enacting the rôle of polar bears in Neptune’s royal pool
gave Dan what the men called “the works.” And Callaghan, since our ship-
mate days in the Idaho, has been a dear friend. (p. 107-108)

... | had everything for the book except the pictures and the story of
crossing the Equator.

This event at sea was the high light of the cruise. The governor general
[of the Philippines, Dwight F. Davis] was a good sportsman, winning the
hearts of the men when he pleaded with Neptunus Rex to allow him to sub-
stitute for his daughter in the initiation ceremonies. Mr. Davis had already
crossed the “line” but he patiently allowed the Pittsburgh shellbacks to lead

The Twentieth Century 183

him to the electrified platform where he danced when they turned on the
“juice”; and he let them heave him into the tank where the polar bears “did
their stuff.” (p. 217)

(William A. Maguire, chaplain. Rig for church. New York, 1942.)

Reprinted with permission of Father Maguire's heirs and representative.

1920

H.M.S. Renown moved into the sultry waters of the tropics. Neptune came
on board, and he demanded the royal victim with glee. The good fellowship
of Osborne was called on now: the British capacity to grin through five
minutes of discomfort. The Prince was docile while the courtiers of the
Equatorial king sang:

Shave him and bash him,

Duck him and splash him,

Torture and smash him

And don't let him go.

The orders were carried out with brutal precision.

(Hector Bolitho. King Edward VIII. His life and reign. London, 1937.
p. 101.)

Reprinted with permission of Eyre & Spottiswoode, publishers.

“And whereas in this our time, the minds of men are so diverse, that some
think it a great matter of conscience to depart from a piece of the least of their
Ceremonies, they be so addicted to their old customs; and again on the other
side, some be so new-fangled, that they would innovate all things, and so
despise the old, that nothing can like them, but that is new: .. .”

Everybody knows that certain humorous ceremonies are associated with the
passage of the Equator, that “imaginary line drawn round the earth equidistant
from the Poles.” Nobody knows why, or whence the custom was derived. That
it is a very ancient custom is undoubted, though its association with the Line
in particular is comparatively modern, and cannot be older than the fifteenth
or sixteenth centuries. Such investigations as have been made into ancient
records have thoroughly established the fact that ceremonies similar to those
now practised in “Crossing the Line,” were earlier observed in many other
parts of King Neptune’s domains. The Straits of Gibralter, and the entrance
to the Baltic through the Sound, were long associated with ceremonial ob-
servances. In the old whaling days similar ceremonies were observed on
crossing the Arctic Circle.

Such records as are available throw little light upon the origin of these
ceremonies. There is evidence that, in the case of the Sound, not only were
“novices” initiated with amusing frolics (much as now in “Crossing the Line”)
but the ship herself had to pay a forfeit — which was presumably spent in

184 Crossing the Line
1920, continued

regaling the crew. We get here a distinct suggestion of a propitiatory sacrifice,
of “paying toll to Fortune.” And this at once takes us back to very ancient days,
long before the Christian era. The name of the King of the Sea, Neptune, which
is universal and has survived to the present day, points in the same direction.
The Romans had a horror of the sea, and had the more reason to pride them-
selves on their conquest of the “unfriendly element.” Among the public cele-
brations of the Roman year was that of the “Neptunalia,” and we know from
Horace how grateful travellers proferred thanksgiving sacrifices to the God
of the Sea for their safe arrival in port. The highest test of friendship, accord-
ing to the same authority, was that he “was ready to accompany his friend
even to the Straits of Gibraltar.”

To primitive navigators all narrow seas held special terrors. The swift tides,
the varying currents and the strong gusts of changing winds usually present
in these narrow seas made the passage of sailing ships extremely perilous to
the small craft of antiquity. The passage of the Sound, indeed, remained a
matter of anxiety, if not very real risk, even to the best-found ships of the
modern era of sails. The religions of heathen antiquity naturally suggested
offering a propitiatory sacrifice to the Sea Deity to procure safe passage
through these difficult seas. Similarly in the old whaling days of our own era
the entrance upon an extremely perilous enterprise was made, by the un-
changing traditions of the sea, occasion for a like offering, and the Arctic Circle
was chosen to make a definite locality for the celebration.

Writing far away from books, it is only possible to suggest that the customs
now observed in “Crossing the Line” have come down to us from a very hoary
antiquity; that they originated in the idea of propitiatory sacrifice to the Sea-
God in present or anticipated perils; and that, when practised by the heathen
navigators of the North, they were probably accompanied with human sacri-
fice, even in the Christian era. We seem to remember having read of a galley
slave being thrown overboard in an hour of extreme peril. It is possible that
the story of Jonah may lead us in the same direction, even much farther back
than the days of the Romans. The superstition of all sailormen, that the
presence aboard ship of a minister of any religion rouses the jealous indigna-
tion of the Sea-God (presumably as being hostile to the observances tradition-
ally due to King Neptune), is likewise suggestive in this connection. Influences
aboard ship supposed to be hostile to the sovereign rights of the ancient Sea-
God are still known among sailormen as “jonahs.” In the “Crossing of the Line”
by H.M.S. Renown, the sovereign rights of the heathen Sea-God were, by an
amusing little by-plot to the main theme of the celebration, seriously chal-
lenged for the first time on record.

It is easy to see why the Line became associated with the same ancient
customs. In early days the Line was the threshold to a new world full of un-
familiar terrors. The very heavens changed, the old constellations were no
more; the moon herself seemed to face the wrong way about; the ocean held
new terrors and unfamiliar denizens; the land was peopled with strange beasts

The Twentieth Century 185

and naked cannibals, and the coral reefs were an ever-present peril. To the
Line was naturally transferred the old association of ideas that linked cere-
monies of propitiation with the entrance upon enterprises of difficulty and
perils that were novel and abounding.

In these days of rapid steam transit and the nervous hurry of modern civil-
ization, the money-making fever, and the consequent contempt for everything
which has no direct bearing upon a practical result, the ceremony of “Crossing
the Line” is becoming obsolescent. In crowded liners it is made a show for the
amusement of bored passengers who are allowed to escape the personal sacri-
fice to the Sea-God, or to commute it into a gift for the benefit of the crew. In
the usually undermanned tramp, with a crew too often only British in name,
there is neither the time nor the inclination for an elaborate ceremony; it is
either omitted altogether or sadly curtailed, to save the expenditure of time,
money and labour.

But in a British ship of war the ceremony is always observed with that
thoroughness which characterises the work of the Royal Navy, and is equally
noticeable in its play. The British “matloe” dearly loves a bit of “play-acting”
and is an adept at impersonation. There are always in a ship of war twice as
many men as would suffice for the needs of the mercantile marine; and, though
they are always occupied, their work is in general neither exhausting nor dif-
ficult. They are all men in a condition of trained physical fitness — no old men
among them, nor any not in the pink of health. Weaklings soon leave the
Navy, and sick men are sent ashore to hospital at the State expense. One
occasionally hears it said — and there is a modicum of half-truth in the
statement — that a dozen longshore workmen would do what it takes a score
of matloes to accomplish, and do it in quicker time. But the workman ashore
only works a part of his twenty-four hours’ day, and cannot be required to
raise a finger when his spell of work is over. Sailormen have to fight the ele-
ments, which take no account of man’s convenience. And sailormen of the
Royal Navy have to be “ready, aye ready” to fight a possible human foe as
well. They are necessarily, therefore, both more numerous — to make good
the inevitable wastage when a ship of war is performing her natural functions
— and in finer physical condition (for they must at all times have an im-
mense reserve of strength for the moment of supreme need) than sailormen
of the mercantile marine.

(Victor E. Marsden. Crossing the Line with His Royal Highness, The
Prince of Wales in H.M.S. “Renown,” Friday-Saturday, April 16-17, 1920.
Sydney, 1920. p. 5-7.)

Reprinted with permission of Angus & Robertson, publishers.

1922

On crossing the equator, we could not have the usual ceremony of Father
Neptune and his mermaids, owing to the number of Peruvians, Chileans, and

186 Crossing the Line
1922, continued
Spanish on board, who would have failed to understand the shaving, dipping
in the sea-bath, and other old customs of the solemn occasion.

But the health of Father Neptune was drunk, and we celebrated the oc-
casion with some 1911 Vintage Melnotte champagne in a big electroplated
jug, and plenty of ice to cool it, in my cabin with some of our friends on board.

(Frank Hedges Butler. Round the world. New York: Frederick A. Stokes
Company [1923?] p. 89.)

In January 1955, J. B. Lippincott wrote that it had taken over the Stokes Company, had no
objection to quoting thus, but could not “grant a clear permission since our records do not
indicate that we have the authority to do so.” Diligent search followed but brought nothing
clearer. The quotation is therefore made with the earnest hope that no rights are now and thus
damaged. ;

1923

[1923, after September] The great day of crossing the line at last arrived,
and I was vastly relieved to know that King Neptune had absolved me from
going through the ordeal of making my obeisances to his court. My com-
panions explained that although they did not believe my protestations that I
had crossed the line before, they would nevertheless give me the benefit of the
doubt and let me off the ceremony. To this magnanimous concession I, though
inwardly grateful, replied that if the court could not accept my word I would
insist on going through the bath. The doctor, who was to receive his initiation
this day, rather too enthusiastically seconded my proposal and things were
coming to a deadlock when Manager Andersen struck the very bright idea
of creating me official photographer to the royal court, an honor I immediately
accepted. I informed the doctor that I should have much pleasure in photo-
graphing him in the throes of the bath and the clutches of the bears. He did
not see eye to eye with me on this matter, but I did my duty.

At the appointed hour the mournful drones of an accordion accompanied
by sundry improvised instruments were heard, instruments whose only virtue
seemed to be that they kept a strange sort of time.

From my vantage-point on the bridge I saw the strangest procession I ever
beheld pass along slowly and with comic dignity, below, to the throne of
King Neptune, preceded by his band. King Neptune, dressed with the pomp
that befitted his Royal Heaviness, took his post majestically, and was fol-
lowed by the royal physician, royal barber and assistants, royal bears, royal
police, and numerous royal smailer fry whose duties were probably known
only to themselves.

The squad of police of the royal household searched diligently for skulkers
who might be hiding in the out-of-the-way corners of the ship, and when they
did catch one of these misguided deserters, the punishment was dire and
dreadful — an extra dose of the royal physician’s medicine, according to the
victim’s capacity to take it.

The Twentieth Century 187

The first to be initiated was the ship’s doctor, who, on account of his un-
doubted status and learning, was given a double dose, after being catechized
by the court, which was of the opinion that he needed a second helping. I
rather think that there was malice aforethought behind the decision, for
although I never sampled the medicine I was told confidentially that it con-
sisted of tea, coffee, rum, pepper, salt, mustard, beer, and a very small quan-
tity of aqua vitæ.

Though the doctor objected to the concoction, he was forced to swallow
it under the threat of suffering worse torment. He was then handed over to
the tender mercies of the royal barber. This industrious person had already
a pail of soot and whitewash, to serve as lather. With a whitewash brush he
slapped (sloshed would be a better word) his victim all over the head with
the mixture, which he then scraped off with a huge wooden razor, wiping
the razor on the hair of the helpless and speechless doctor, who was then
tipped over backward into the royal bath and then left to the bears for
further treatment.

These persons dipped and soused their victim until sure that the honors
of the occasion had been well established in their favor, after which they
released him to make room for the next. Many that day followed the doctor
and passed through the torment.

I need hardly mention that after watching the ceremony of initiation I was
extremely thankful I had not to go through the bath; but I kept a discreet
silence and a very sharp lookout for treachery, in case the royal court should
alter its mind, and decide that it might be as well to include me in the list of
its initiates.

An extra allowance of rum was issued after these proceedings, as is the
custom on such occasions, and so the time-honored ceremony of crossing the
line was brought to a conclusion.

(F. V. Morley and J. S. Hodgson. Whaling north and south. New York,
1926. p. 131-134.)

The “T” here comes from Hodgson.
Reprinted with permission of Appleton-Century-Crofts, the publishers. Copyright, 1926.

c. 1930

I was in my cabin on the Maunganui, half smothered with telegrams from
surprised friends, before I could believe it was true. I was really going to
Tahiti, beginning a new life!

I intended to rest and meet no one on the ten-day trip down [from San
Francisco], but it turned out to be a gay passage. Prime Minister Coates and
his party from New Zealand were aboard, so the Captain decided to put on
a brilliant pageant when we crossed the equator. He misunderstood the gaiety
of my corner and evidently thought me a socially-inclined person. The inter-
ested look on the faces of the men and women in that corner and the spon-
taneous laughs coming out of it were the result of a little trick I always try on

188 Crossing the Line
c. 1930, continued

shipboard. I start a Tall Story Club — each one tells the most unusual hap-
pening in his life. It successfully does away with “that reminds me” stories
of hunting in Maine or visiting cathedrals in Europe. Everyone has days and
days in which to think up a good one that will top all others. And, believe me,
even Davy Crockett would blush at some of the fabulous tales!

So we were the first to our corner and the last to leave it. Observing me
among all those story-telling men, as I say, the Captain misunderstood. He
sent me a note asking me to be Queen Neptune for the Crossing of the Line
Ceremony. Of course, I refused. He thought me rude not to appreciate the
honor and was rude in return by saying that it was either the queenship for
me or a ducking like all the rest. Evidently no respect for age on this ship.

[had to go through with it. An officer wove me a wonderful costume of rope
and everyone loaned me strings of pearls. I was regally costumed for the
Crossing. When I saw the others smeared with paint and sent to the ducking
stool, I knew I had chosen wisely.

(Mary Sheridan Fahnestock. I ran away to sea at fifty. New York, 1939.
p. 27-28.)

No precise date is given, but the crossing was probably in the thirties. The mother sailed to
Tahiti to join her two sons who had left Manhasset Bay Yacht Club, Long Island, on a cruise to
the Pacific in their thirty-five foot schooner, Director.

Reprinted with permision of Harcourt, Brace & Company, publishers.

1936

The voice of the people was loud and distinct in 1936, with only Maine, Ver-
mont, and Dutchess County dissenting. When the vote of confidence had
been recorded, we began preparations to transport FDR to the Inter-Amer-
ican Conference at Buenos Aires. ...

FDR was a frustrated seagoing sailor. He was never so content as when
he was on blue water, and the ocean was second only to Warm Springs in
restoring vigor sapped by the toughest job in the world. He was in magnificent
fettle as we tied up at Rio. He had survived his equator crossing nicely, al-
though he was subjected to a double initiation. He was not only elevated
from the lowly state of “polliwog” to “trusted shellback,” but in recognition
of his exalted position he was further given what was known as the “Royal
Works.” The crew showed no awe for their Commander-in-Chief and gave
him full treatment, to his great delight and the Secret Service’s complete
horror.

(Michael F. Reilly and William J. Slocum. Reilly of the White House.
New York, 1947. p. 108-109.)

Reprinted with permission of Simon & Schuster, publishers.

The Twentieth Century 189

1939

The boisterous ceremonies of “crossing the line” are of such ancient vintage
that their derivation is lost. It is well known that ceremonies took place long
ago when the ship crossed the thirtieth parallel, and also when going through
the Straits of Gibraltar. These early ceremonies were of the roughest sort
and were, to a great extent, supposed to try the crew to determine whether or
not the novices on their first cruise could endure the hardships of a life at sea.
Then, as is the custom at the present time, it was primarily a crew’s “party.”
The Vikings were reported at an early date to carry out these ceremonies on
crossing certain parallels. It is highly probable that the present-day ceremony
was passed on to the Angles, Saxons, and Normans from the Vikings.

At an early date, ceremonies of propitiation were carried on. Neptune, the
mythological god of the seas, was appeased by the seamen, and marks of
respect were paid those of his underwater domain. It is plausible that a part
of the ceremony grew out of traditions of other days, even though sailors
had come to doubt the existence of Neptune. Nevertheless, Neptunus Rex is
today the majesty who rules in the ceremonies.

Those who have “crossed the line” are called “shellbacks.” These Sons of
Neptune compose the cast for the present-day ceremonies. It is a curious fact
of human nature, but men will suffer a very severe initiation in order to be
permitted to inflict the same on other men.

Sailormen treasure the certificate which testifies that “in Latitude 00-00
and Longitude .. .,” and usually addressed to

all Mermaids, Sea Serpents, Whales, Sharks, Porpoises, Dolphins,

Skates, Eels, Suckers, Lobsters, Crabs, Pollywogs, and other living

things of the sea,
[name]

has been found worthy to be numbered as one of our trusty shell-

backs, has been gathered to our fold and duly initiated into the

solemn mysteries of the ancient order of the deep.

Usually the ceremonies of the modern Navy are picturesque, and with the
exception of the discomfort of a good wetting in the tank, a slight shock of
electricity from the “Devil,” and the shaving ceremony, the initiation cannot
be called extremely rough. I am told that in merchant ships the ceremony is
still severe in the physical discomforts inflicted. Officers of the United States
Navy could at one time “buy off” by giving the Neptune party so many bottles
of beer. Unless the ceremonies are very crude, it is a tradition that younger
officers in particular undergo the initiation.

The eldest and most dignified member of the crew is usually selected as
Neptunus Rex; his first assistant is Davy Jones. Her Highness Amphitrite is
usually a good looking young seaman who will appear well in the déshabillé
of seaweed and rope yarns. The Court in general consists of the Royal Scribe,
the Royal Doctor, the Royal Dentist, the Devil, and other names that suit
the fancy of the party. The Bears have the difficult task of rounding up

190 Crossing the Line

1939, continued

the uninitiated, and also standing “dousing” watches in the canvas water
tank.

The night before the ship crosses the line, it is the custom that Davy Jones
shall appear on board with a message to the Captain from His Majesty, Nep-
tunus Rex, stating at what time he wants the ship hove to for the reception
of the Royal Party, and with particular summons for certain men to appear
before him. This reception of Davy Jones usually takes place at night and
may be made most impressive. The ship is stopped and, amid a glare of lights
and a whirl of water, Davy Jones emerges from the hawse or is hoisted over
the bows to deliver his message. He is usually received by the Captain and
Officer of the Deck on the bridge.

A part of the customary dialogue follows:

A RITUAL FOR ANCIENT ORDER OF THE DEEP
Davy Jones comes aboard and hails the bridge.
Davy Jones to Officer of the Deck: Ship Ahoy!
O.0.D.: Aye, Aye, Sir.
Davy Jones: What ship?
0.0.D.: U.S.S.---.
Davy Jones: What course?
O.0.D.: State course.

Davy Jones: Very well, Sir, I have been waiting your arrival. You will notify
the Commanding Officer that I, Davy Jones, have a message to deliver to
him from His Royal Highness, Neptunus Rex.

O.0.D.: Aye, Aye, Sir.
Permit a few minutes to elapse.
0.0.D.: Your Honor, the Commanding Officer awaits you.
Davy Jones (proceeding to place designated ): Very well, Sir.
If the meeting takes place on the quarter-deck, all hands are permitted to
follow Davy Jones aft.
Captain to Davy Jones: Greetings, Davy Jones.

Davy Jones: My congratulations to you, Captain. Some few years since I
saw you.

Captain: Yes, it was aboard the U.S.S.---.
Davy Jones: I have a summons to you from Neptunus Rex.
Captain: I will be glad to receive it.
Davy Jones reads the summons. He then shakes hands with the Captain.
Davy Jones: I will await your pleasure tomorrow, Sir, and will see you when
I return with my Royal Master, Neptunus Rex. Good night, Sir.
Davy Jones walks forward.

The Twentieth Century 191

On the next day when all is in readiness for the reception of Neptune and
Party, the navigator reports the ship is on the “line.” Davy Jones appears and
reports to the Officer of the Deck that the Captain is to be informed that
Neptunus Rex and Party have been sighted ahead. The Flag of Neptune is
broken when Neptune and Court appear on deck. The bugle call “attention”
is sounded; officers and crew fall in at quarters or where designated. The Royal
Party then proceeds slowly aft to meet Davy Jones.

Neptune (when he meets Davy Jones): Well, well, what a fine ship and what

a cargo of landlubbers.

Officer of the Deck salutes and reports with much dignity that the Captain
awaits the Royal Party. Party proceeds.

Captain: A sailor's welcome to you, Neptunus Rex; it is a great pleasure to
have you with us.

Neptune: The pleasure is mine (a short speech). Allow me to present Royal
Navigator Shellback who will relieve you. I am glad to be with you again,
Captain, and have prepared for a busy day in order to make your land-
lubbers fit subjects of my great sea domain.

Captain: May I invite your attention to the fact that I have several young
officers and members of the crew aboard who have not been in the Service
long enough to have had an opportunity to visit your domain and become
shellbacks. I beg you to be as lenient with them as possible.

Neptune: Ah! Captain, I will be as severe as I can — as severe as I can.

Captain then introduces officers who have crossed the line before. These
officers converse with the immediate personal staff of Neptune for a minute
or so.

Captain: Neptune, I turn over my command to you for such time as you wish.

Neptune: Very well, Captain, thank you. Turning to Royal Navigator. Royal
Navigator proceed to the bridge and direct the ship on the course assigned.

Royal Party is then escorted to the throne. They ascend. Initiation com-
mences with officers first.

Dramatis Personae. — Amphitrite, Neptune, Royal Baby, Davy Jones,
Royal Chaplain, Royal Navigator, Neptune’s Officer of the Day, Judges,
Attorneys, Barbers, Doctors, Bears, Police.*

Note. — The writer is indebted to Lieutenant Commander T. R. Cooley, U.S.
Navy, for an opportunity to examine the original manusript of dialogue
and ceremony used aboard the U.S.S. Sacramento and U.S.S. Pruitt when
those ships “crossed the line.” Much fun may be derived from charges and
specifications that deal with the peculiarities and idiosyncrasies of the “vic-
tims” of the initiation. The Sacramento received advance dispatches and
letters from Neptune much to the discomfiture of landlubbers.

1 The U.S.S. Henderson and Chaumont, which make frequent cruises across the Pacific, have
instituted the ritual of initiation into the Realm of the Golden Dragon, when ships cross the inter-
national date line on sailing to the westward. The neophytes, both officers and men, are sub-
poenaed and appear before the Court of the Grand Dragon for sentence and initiation.

192 Crossing the Line

1989, continued
A Sample Summons ?

U.S.S.--- ON ENTERING
Doman oF NEPTUNUS REx
NOTICE AND LISTEN YE LANDLUBBER

I order and command you to appear before me and my court on
the morrow to be initiated in the mysteries of my Empire. If not,
you shall be given as food for sharks, whales, pollywogs, frogs, and
all living things of the sea, who will devour you, head, body, and
soul as a warning to landlubbers entering my Domain without
warrant.

You are charged with the following offenses__________________

THEREFORE, appear and obey or suffer the penalty.
Registered:
Davy JONES
Secretary to His Majesty

Decorative certificates of distinct nautical phraseology are presented to
those initiated. It is customary for the captain to sign the “diploma,” also the
seal of the ship is affixed thereto. No custom of the sea is better known, for
to qualify as a “shellback” is a distinction desired by all sailormen.

As an example of the importance given to the ceremonies of crossing the
line, the writer ® has seen a squadron of ships sail along for days just north of
the “line,” awaiting a favorable time to head south and cross. ... This ancient
ceremony that we observe is most spectacular and dear to the heart of the
seamen of all nations.

Captain Hall, writing a hundred years ago, said of this ceremony,

Its evil is transient, if any evil there be; while it certainly affords
Jack a topic for a month beforehand and a fortnight afterwards; and
if so ordered as to keep its monstrosities within the limits of strict
discipline (which is easy enough) it may even be made to add to the
authority of the officers, instead of weakening their influence.

(Lieutenant Commander Leland P. Lovette, U.S. Navy. Naval customs,
traditions and usage. United States Naval Institute: Annapolis, Mary-
land, 1939. p. 42-47.)

Reprinted with permission of Admiral Lovette.
The quotation from Basil Hall is entered in full above under 1832.

2 The “Summons” given is one of many forms used. They are usually folded and made up in
the form of a subpoena.
3 Chief Boatswain John D. Thompson, U.S. Navy.

The Twentieth Century 193
1942

Going out, in March, 1942, we were in convoy in the Pacific, five troop ships,
one little “gun boat,” small destroyer, as an escort. The gun boat stayed so
far ahead I think it felt that it was safer there in case of an attack. We knew
by observation of the sun and stars that we paralleled the equator for a long
time, just when we slipped over we were never told. Some time later we found
some old certificates of the pleasure cruise days aboard and these we had
certified. There were no ceremonies whatsoever.

On my return trip in April, 1944, in an Alaskan fishing boat that we con-
tended had been retired from that service as unfit, we were alone. We carried,
I think, some 500 Australians that were to go to Canada or United States for
air training. All the Yank troops that were returning were shellbacks even
though they had not been formally initiated going out. By the time of our
return voyage the security regulations had been relaxed and so a ceremony
had been planned.

On April 7th we crossed. The Aussie neophytes, clad only in shorts, were
brought up from below, with the aid of paddles. They were introduced to the
Court consisting of King, Queen and Junior. These were garishly costumed as
could be expected with what was available on the ship. Junior, I remember,
was a small colored soldier and acted somewhat as the court jester. After
being introduced, the victim got a mixture of oil and graphite on his head,
and then had the joy of a drink concocted of atabrine, quinine, mineral oil,
and sea water, served from a thunder jug. A pool had been made by suspend-
ing a large tarpaulin or sail between some spars. This was full of sea water
and the pollywog was soused into this and made to say “shellback” while
under water. Surprising to say, there was a bit of sputtering and choking.
All in all, the Aussies didn’t take to the whole thing with too much enthu-
siasm. The Yanks may possibly have used it all as a chance to make amends
for some misunderstandings, surprising to say.

(Extracts from a letter from a friend, a medical officer, sailing early and
in active service until near the end of the war when he was invalided
home. )

1943

There was no question about it: Joe was injured during the war. And another
fact was indisputable: the injury occurred on June 22, 1943. But the official
Navy records show that McCarthy was not facing Jap shrapnel or serving on
a Marine airfield at the time. On June 22, 1943, he was on board the Navy’s
seaplane tender Chandeleur, steaming toward the Pacific war area. The ship
recorded him as an “officer passenger.” It sailed from Pearl Harbor on June 12,
but did not reach Espiritu Santo, the destination of McCarthy’s squadron,
until July 3. And on June 22, the Chandeleur was crossing the equator. The
details of that day were reported later by one of Joe’s shipmates:

The skipper, Commander Albert K. Morehouse, gave the enlisted
men permission to have a mild “shellback” ceremony on June 22,

194 Crossing the Line
1943, continued

the day we crossed the equator. That day the ocean was flat and
the sky was clear. We had our “general quarters” moved up to
8 À. M. so the ceremony could be held at 10:00. And at 9:55, the
uniform for “pollywog” initiates was announced as pajamas, over-
seas caps, and bare feet. The war was completely forgotten as we
appeared before Neptunus Rex, the enlisted man enthroned on
the boat deck. Rank meant nothing, of course, as we were paddled,
soaked with hoses, speared by the electric trident, and generally
abused. One Marine officer did an elaborate strip tease, and some-
one else read a long defense, typed on toilet paper. It was comic
relief from the war, still hundreds of miles ahead of us.

McCarthy was nearly through his initiation when he was hurt.
He was going down a ladder with a bucket fastened to his foot
when he slipped. His other foot caught on a lower rung — an iron
pipe a few inches from the steel bulkhead — and he fell backwards,
injuring his foot... . After my initiation was over and I had rinsed
the stain from my shaved head, I went to the sick bay to see how Joe
was getting along. They had decided that three bones were broken,
and I watched them put a cast on his foot.

Joe was in a good humor as he hobbled around on his cast, but he admonished
his buddies: “Don’t ever tell that I broke my foot in this silly way.” They
never suspected that, before Joe’s war career was over, his prank injury would
grow into a “severe leg injury” and he would be cited by Admiral Nimitz for
bravely refusing “to be hospitalized.”

(Jack Anderson and Ronald W. May. McCarthy, the man, the senator,
the “ism.” Boston [1952] p. 62-63.)

A United Press story from Washington dated December 29, 1952 reported that Senator
McCarthy “received today a Distinguished Flying Cross and an Air Medal with four gold stars
for ‘heroism and extraordinary achievement’ as a Marine Corps officer in the Pacific during World
War II.” (New York Times, December 30, 1952, page 2, column 4.) Earlier, Time Magazine on
July 7, 1952 had quoted the Milwaukee Journal statement on the “shellback” initiation.

When Headquarters of the Marine Corps in Washington was asked by the compiler for word
of verification as to accuracy, it replied that the practice of the Corps was not to quote citations,
but to refer inquiries of this kind to the principal.

A letter to Senator McCarthy, addressed to him at the Senate Office building April 10, 1954,
remained unanswered and unacknowledged, nor was it returned because of mistaken or in-
adequate address. It asked if he would give a few words about his experience to be included
in what was intended to be an objective study of this bit of sealore, as the compiler was trying
to gather as many first-hand stories as possible.

Reprinted with permission of Beacon Press, the publisher.

I first crossed the equator aboard an LCI(L) — Landing Craft, Infantry
(Large) — in late February or early March, 1943. We had an early type of
LCI which in those days were awkward, uncomfortable vessels about 155 feet
in length designed to transport some 100 or so troops onto the beach on am-

The Twentieth Century 195

phibious assaults. Ours had a complement of some 22 men and 8 officers in
the ship’s company, with two officer passengers, these two being connected
with the LCT Flotilla Staff. We were traveling in a convoy of about 32 ships,
mostly LCIs, mine sweepers, and submarine chasers. Our point of crossing
was on a more or less direct line between the Panama Canal and Bora Bora
in the western group of the Society Islands.

We had discovered soon after leaving Norfolk that the entire ship’s com-
pany was made up of pollywogs. Of the whole gang of us, only one officer
passenger, a young lieutenant (jg) in the Supply Corps who had come up
through the ranks, had ever been initiated into the mysteries of crossing the
line. Needless to say, he filled our ears with all sorts of blood curdling yarns
about what we were about to face. We allowed him to have his sport until
it became tiresome to us and then pointed out to him that if he felt that he
alone was going to play each role from King Neptune down to the Royal
Baby while attempting to grease and clip a whole shipload of unwilling
sailors, he had his work cut out for himself.

He, being a reasonable man, saw the logic of this, and except for uttering
a few dark threats about seeing to it that we would not get our shellback
certificates, he subsided and held his peace. Consequently, the day we crossed
the line we spent several hours lounging on the deck watching through bi-
noculars the ordeals and torments being undergone by those no more inex-
perienced than ourselves who were merely unfortunate enough to find
themselves aboard ships with strong shellback parties.

Later in the war and in connection with operations in New Guinea and the
Phillipines, I crossed the equator several times, but each time was aboard a
ship that was criss-crossing back and forth regularly, so that all hands were
shellbacks several times over. So by the end of the war, I had crossed the
equator about 6 times in each direction, and the nearest I had come to an
initiation was a few hundred yards while watching the ceremony through
field glasses.

Therefore I was greatly pleased in 1946 in connection with an Antarctic
expedition (Operation Highjump ) to be on hand for and to participate in a
bona fide crossing-the-line ceremony. We crossed aboard the USCGC North-
wind, an icebreaker, in mid-December on a great circle course from Panama
to Scott Island in the Antarctic Ocean. On the leg from Norfolk to Panama,
the shellbacks had gotten together and been assigned our roles. Being a Naval
Officer aboard a Coast Guard Cutter, I was automatically suspect and was
assigned the role of Defense Attorney for the pollywogs — a position of some
delicacy in that it sometimes happens that if the Defense Attorney makes
too eloquent a plea, things may become so unruly that he finds himself sub-
jected to various indignities along with his clients.

In Panama City, a delegation went ashore and purchased various costumes
and trimmings, and the first few days at sea were spent in building a large
open canvas water tank below and just aft of the helicopter flight deck. A
straight backed chair was secured to the flight deck by hinges on its back

196 Crossing the Line
1943, continued

legs in such a fashion that an occupant thereof, after being treated by the
Royal Barber, could be tipped over backward and into the tank below where
two stalwart shellbacks could supervise the ducking and presumably rescue
the victim in his last extremity.

Also, a canvas tunnel was constructed about 15 feet long and leading up a
well-greased ramp to the flight deck. Into this tunnel was led a series of high
pressure water hoses.

The main cast of characters consisted of such standard personalities as
King Neptune, his Queen, the Royal Baby (an obese Petty Officer), the Royal
Prosecutor, Defense Attorney, the Royal Jury, the Royal Physician and Den-
tist (with squirt guns filled with a very bitter fluid), the Royal Barber, and
various others bounding and howling about.

We were all briefed in our duties by the Shellback Committee and were
read instructions from the Navy Department cautioning us against com-
mitting any physical violence which might injure the initiates.

On the morning of the crossing, the pollywogs were stripped to their under-
drawers and led aft one at a time, the higher officers going first in order to
insure their getting well initiated while we were still full of pep and en-
thusiasm. Each person was first shoved into the tunnel, and as he tried to
craw] along it, powerful streams of water harrassed him each inch of the way.

He was then brought before the Royal Court and after bowing to the King
and Queen and kissing the Royal Baby, was charged with a series of major
crimes the most serious of which was the fact that all during his life thus far
he had failed to cross the equator. As Defense Attorney, I took the position
that although my client was guilty of everything charged to him and probably
more besides, indeed deserved to be tossed over the side without more ado,
none the less I reluctantly pleaded for mercy, and asked the court merely
to have the unfortunate criminal shorn, greased, baptised.

Officers and Petty Officers received individual attention from the Shell-
backs, of course, but by the time the main mass of enlisted men came through
(there were probably some 75 or more pollywogs to begin with, representing
about half the ship’s company) the first bloom of enthusiasm had worn off
and the men were run through in groups in rather haphazard fashion.

All in all, everyone had a merry time of it, and it was several days before
the grease had been properly cleaned from the decks and several weeks
before the ship’s barber was able to restore any sort of order to the haircuts
of those who had been treated by the Royal Barber.

I should mention that the first to go through the initiation was our Com-
manding Officer, Captain Charles W. Thomas, USCG. A rather violent initia-
tion was planned for him, but at the last minute the Shellbacks got cold feet
and sent a delegation to the “old man” to say that if he preferred, he would
be given only a perfunctory initiation. Captain Thomas, a wonderful gentle-
man and a good sport in every respect, insisted emphatically that he be
spared not one whit. Indeed, he entered into the spirit of the game whole-

The Twentieth Century 197

heartedly, harangued the court, made speeches to one and all, took his initia-
tion in extremely good grace, and after washing and dressing, joined in the
remaining festivities — now as a certified shellback — with great vigor and
enthusiasm.

Shellback certificates range all the way from florid scrolls all set about with
mermaids and various types of sea life to a simple card stating that the holder
has crossed the equator. There are similar certificates commemorating such
things as crossing the 180th meridian, the Arctic and Antarctic Circles, etc.
I have a card certifying that I have been aloft in a helicopter south of the
Antarctic Circle.

(Manuscript statement from William Gerrish Metcalf, dated December
10, 1953.)

1944

Aboard a United States Aircraft Carrier (Delayed). — For the officers and
men aboard this ship the war almost stopped for about four hours today. At
least it seemed to hesitate, and that is because there are some things that
are the same in war even as in peace and the crossing of the equator is one.

Many days ago, a few hours after this ship left port, her destination was
announced over the public address system and thus it became obvious that
there would be a crossing of the line. Almost immediately the shellbacks —
those with proof that they already had traversed the world’s waistband —
began to appear out of those corners where bulkhead meets bulkhead and
to crawl out of their sacks and other soft and secluded places to make their
presence felt.

There were many nights then when in the crew’s quarters there could be
heard other sounds in addition to the slapping of the waves against the sides
and the resonant snores of the men engaged in their favorite shipboard
pastime. There were many mornings, too, when the reasons for these sounds
were apparent in the shaved or partly shaved heads of pollywogs who had not
been as elusive as is implied by this name for all those who never before have
entered into the domain of Neptunus Rex.

The initial climax in the now-rising crescendo of feverish excitement was
reached yesterday at 4 p. M., when up over the forward edge of the flight
deck there arose, to the accompaniment of firecrackers and the shouts and
gesticulations of a group clad in a blending of foul weather gear and light
apparel, the figure of Davy Jones. Mr. Jones wore a suit of red winter under-
wear over which had been casually thrown a souwester and bore (1) a trident
and (2) a striking resemblance to Lieut. Lars J. Larsen of 139-26 87th street,
Jamaica, L. I.

Actually the crossing of latitude zero was accomplished during the night,
but it was not until 8:30 a. m. today that Neptunus Rex, at other times known
as Chief Petty Officer Harry Daily of Lomida, Cal., appeared, bewhiskered
with shredded hemp and properly berobed as befitted his office. He was ac-
companied by the other appropriately caprisoned members of the royal court

198 Crossing the Line
1944, continued

of the raging main, including the queen, the princess, the royal prosecutor,
the royal chaplain, the royal doctor, the royal barber, the royal cook, the royal
undertaker, the royal baby and the royal musicians.

It was then that the Jolly Roger was run up on the foremast and the court
was convened where thrones had been erected on the forward elevator now
lowered to the hangar deck. Here justice was meted out to the pollywogs,
all of whom had received subpoenas and summonses and many of whom had
been ordered to appear in special raiment.

Lieut. (j.g.) John F. Druze of Irvington, N. J., who will be remembered by
sports fans as the 1937 Fordham football captain and former assistant to
Frank Leahy at Boston College and Notre Dame, was charged with boasting
about his prowess as a football player and athletic expert and was ordered
to appear in a costume similar to that worn by Charles Atlas in the strength
ads. He then was convicted and sentenced to demonstrate in every com-
partment of the ship the principles preached by that apostle of athleticism.

While Lieut. Druze was demonstrating how to develop from a ninety-pound
weakling into 210 pounds of muscle, four messboys, blindfolded and wearing
winter underwear, were belaboring each other with boxing gloves on the
lowered after elevator. Two officers, dressed as somewhat exaggerated
admirals, meanwhile were going throughout the ship with tubs of water and
ship models and staging mock naval battles while lecturing on tactics.

On the range-finder platform an ensign, dressed as Mahatma Gandhi,
stood with binoculars to eyes and reported all electricity producing clouds.
Every hour on the hour a lieutenant, accused of complaining about the food
in the officers’ wardroom mess, set up a card table with dishes and silver for
one and consumed a box of cornflakes without benefit of cream or sugar.

Down on the hangar deck and on the lowered forward elevator, meanwhile,
there was a steady stream of officers and men who crept forward on hands
and knees to pay homage to his royal highness and then to be hustled through
an assortment of treatments. While intermittent equatorial rainsqualls oc-
casionally showered upon the whole piratically garbed assemblage, they
first were sent crawling through a forty-foot tunnel of canvas, from the out-
side of which they were belabored by royal policemen with stuffed canvas
clubs.

Then they were seated in an electrically charged doctor’s chair to have
their mouths sprayed with gentian blue and, after being embalmed liberally
with flour-paste, they then were rushed aft to the fantail, where they finally
were spilled from an elevated chair into a tank of sea water and became
shellbacks themselves.

It probably is true enough that this is not the type of thing which you
yourself would want any part of in New York or in River Falls, Wis. You
may even wonder why men would want any part of it anywhere, and yet
for the officers and men aboard this ship this — and this alone — made the
war almost stop for about four hours today.

The Twentieth Century 199

You say “almost” because always while this was going on there were men
on watch scanning the skies and the sea from the bridge and from the gun
sponsons and there were others down in the damp heat of the engine room
and in the galleys, and when, at 2 p. M. the royal court was dissolved, the
whole ship settled back once more into the grim routine of war, but of war
that had seemed to hesitate, at least, for four hours.

(W. C. Heinz, Staff Correspondent. The New York Sun, Friday, March 17,
1944.)

Reprinted with permission of the publisher.

Chief Printer Edwin L. Murray, U.S.N.R., 5721 Ninth Street N.W., formerly
employed in the composing room of The Evening Star, was inducted into the
“Ancient Order of the Deep” while crossing the equator in the Pacific recently.
He was hailed before King Neptune's court on special charges of selling Shell-
back certificates to “pollywogs” (neophites of the order) and “not maintain-
ing the proper and meek demeanor of a chief petty officer pollywog.”

In addition to regulation punishment, such as wetting from the Pacific
Holy Hose and paddlings by the Royal Guard, he was prodded with an electric
fork by the Royal Devil while being paddled hard by the King’s Elite Cops,
he wrote in a letter. The most spectacular of the punishments was a severe
haircut, administered at various points along the gantlet of paddle wielders.

Later, Murray was dumped backward into the Royal Pacific Pool, three
times unceremoniously ducked and finally sent down a greased chute to the
deck, paddled the while by veteran Shellbacks.

(Washington, D. C. Sunday Star, January 7, 1945.)

(R. O. Baumrucker, ed. USS West Virginia crosses the Equator again,
Oct., 1944. Captain H. V. Wiley, U.S. Navy, Commanding Officer, Com-
mander G. J. King, U.S. Navy, Executive Officer. Cartoons by D. L.
Johnson. Entire publication cleared by Fleet Chief Censor. San Fran-
cisco, The Trade Pressroom, 1944.)

Opens with photographs of the ship afire at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, another in
October 1944, portraits of the Captain and Executive Officer, facsimiles of the Warning of Davy
Jones and the Shellback Certificate. There are also texts of the Subpoena and Summons Extra-
ordinary and of the exchange of letters between the Captain and Neptunus Rex, with the pro-
ceedings that followed. Many prints of the proceedings, photographs of heads of departments,
group pictures of officers and crew, list of pollywogs converted and picture of converted
mountaineers. Added is a moving tale of “That Night at Subiago,” sure to give the landlubber
a lasting impression of a battleship in action. Three pages of small snapshots show less stern
views of navy life afloat and ashore. |

The book is the work of Robert Owen Baumrucker, Dartmouth College, 1931, with “three
years of battleship duty in practically all Pacific actions from Attu through Okinawa,” separating
from the navy in January 1946 as a Lieutenant-Commander, and later in the merchandising and
advertising business.

It was “originally intended as a souvenir of our exceptionally hilarious Shellback ceremonies
just before the invasion of the Philippines, but produced under combat conditions — with censor-
ship, no mail for four to six weeks at a time, kamikazes, Second Battle of the Philippines, Iwo
Jima, Okinawa and a new and unsympathetic Executive Officer — it didn’t get off the press till
the following August. Meanwhile it was expanded to include a roster and pictures of the crew,

200 Crossing the Line
1944, continued

many snapshots and cartoons, an account of our action against the Japanese fleet and other mem-
orabilia of the spirited crew.”
The quotation here is given with permission.

1945

As we approached the equator we got into the doldrums. No breath of wind
ruffled the sea, and the sun blazed down fiercely. Weird headgear was de-
vised to prevent burns; my own version of a sun helmet measured a yard
across. We organized a ritual for crossing the Line, as sailors of all nations do.
Leading characters of Neptune’s Court donned fancy dress, made of avail-
able rags and tags — Neptune himself, his daughter Thetis, the Chief of
Police, the Physician in Ordinary, and of course the Barber. I played Neptune.
The Chief of Police beat the wretched initiates with his broadsword, giving
hearty whacks.

Just as this celebration reached its height we heard airplane engines. We
could see nothing, but the hum was incessant. We leaped to the antiaircraft
guns. Thetis took her station by the 3.7-cm. gun, while the Barber and the
Physician in Ordinary snatched up machine guns. The whole Court of Nep-
tune took diving stations. Remembering back, I must smile; here was the last
uncaptured U-boat crew, all rigged out in fancy dress and poised to fight
for their lives. But at the time, it was quite serious, and I am happy to say
there was no fight. The drone of engines faded away — a harmless airliner,
probably — and we finished ducking Neptune’s greenhorns.

(Heinz Schaeffer. We escaped in an outlaw U-boat. Saturday Evening
Post, November 22, 1952. p. 60-62. )

Many youngsters — no matter whether it is a matter of elapsed time or of spirit — have
voyaged twenty thousand leagues under the sea with Captain Nemo in his Nautilus, have
thanked Jules Verne for the foreglimpse he thus gave them of what was later to be not unusual,
have wondered if even they might submerge and tell their children about it. We had to wait for
a world war and the dying spasms of a nation to give us the tale of the “crossing” in a submarine.
This is the story of Heinz Schaeffer and his crew of the German U-977 that left Kiel in April,
1945. Scarcely were they under way when they heard of the surrender of the German forces.
They had to decide whether it was just one more clever ruse of the enemy or a real warning from
home. A weighty problem. Schaeffer finally decided to head for the Argentine, Bee to dodge
enemy cruisers on the way. It meant running submerged for 66 days. The effect on food, clothing,
comfort, spirits of all on board may be imagined, but quite probably the reality was much worse
than any outsider can dream of. Surrender to the Argentine police came on August 17, ending a
voyage of four months.

But Perry, who never sailed along on one line of argument very long, was
off on another tack completely.

“And what provision —” that three-syllable word interwoven into ordinary
deck conversation got everybody's attention, and Perry, sensing the effect
of it, repeated — “An’ what provision is being made for d’crossing d’equator
ceremonies — ?” |

I was amazed at the response to that. Some guys haw-hawed, others
slapped their neighbors on the back — evidently that was funny and serious

The Twentieth Century 201

both to everybody but Mush and me. We looked at each other stupidly. Then
I noticed a pale, rangy guy from the black gang who seemed to get paler.

The third oiler (Pat and Birdneck were the other two) spoke up. He was
the one everybody called the Maverick.

“Who's d’wictims? Hey, you guy wit d’glasses. You ever been across d line?”

“What line?”

“D Equator.”

I said, “No. I never —”

“Allright. We'll take care of you,” and he laughed in that nasty way he had
and slapped the pale, rangy guy on the back in glee. “Hey — wait a minute
— you ain't eider, have you? You was saying you had dat reg/lar run t Nor-
way —

The pale guy gulped and said, “No — I ain’t never been South —”

“O-o-h boy! anudder wictim. ... And you, blubber-mouth.” He was talking
to Mush. “You too —”

I asked the white-haired guy:

“What's this Equator stuff?”

“Oh — it’s nothin’ if they ain't rough. . . .”

The Maverick heard that.

“Sure we won't be rough — haw-haw. Wait'll Ol Fadder Neptune gives
him a shave and wait'll Fadder Neptune’s red-headed daughter gives him a
kiss —”

The Bos’n had come down to the deck. The hilarity quieted down a little,
though nothing could hold that Maverick guy now that he had some nasty
business planned. He was noisy and swaggered around. ...

The white-haired guy, Birdneck, and I were assigned to the same station.
As we stood there, I took up this Equator initiation ceremony again. Frankly,
I was worried. It sounded like the sort of thing I'd read about and expected
before I came aboard, but I didn’t want any of it now. I liked the quiet un-
eventful days and pleasant nights as they were.

I nervously asked the white-haired guy, “What do they do — what's this
stuff the Maverick was talking about?”

The old fellow said quietly, “Oh, it’s nuthin. Just a little fun; don’t worry
about it. On the big passenger liners they make a whole business of it and
everybody has a good time. But on a little ship like this — Some of these
fellers sometimes get rough. Yes, I’ve seen it happen. Sometimes some of the
wild fellers do something and somebody gets hurt. I've seen nice boys hurt
pretty bad —”

His voice was soothing, and he shook his head slowly.

“Yeah,” came from Birdneck, who stood there with his hand on the brass
handle of the hydrant to which we’d attached a dry canvas hose. Birdneck
was to turn the water on, we to play the hose come the day when the ship
burns up.

202 Crossing the Line
1945, continued

“Yeah, that damn Maverick — It’s guys like him that makes trouble. An’ you
know there’s a couple of more guys aboard this ship'd join up with ’im if he
Stone

“Yeah, but what do they do?”

“Oh, different things. You know that Maverick guy,” he was talking and
gesturing at the old man. “He’s always stirring up trouble — back there in
our cabin —”

Oilers rated separate quarters — they were a step above firemen and wipers.
Pat, the Maverick, and Birdneck bunked together.

“Sometimes old Pat — you know he’s a good old guy — he’s old that’s all.
This goddam Maverick is always trying —”

I broke in, “Look, can’t ya tell a fella what happens? What's this Father
Neptune — ?”

“Oh, that’s nothing. That's just — well what's hard is if some feller like that
gets the idea to try some keelhaulin’ — like they used to do in the old days —”

“Well, what's this keelhaulin’? Why doesn't somebody explain some of this?”
I was getting panicky about that damn Equator.

“Well, keelhaulin’, that’s when they tie a line around you.”

The ship’s bell sounded again and interrupted his explanation. . . .

Birdneck approached me early one evening. “Would you do my portray?
I see the ones you did of the blond kid. No kiddin’ — if I could draw like dat
Td quit d’sea.”

I was flattered and happy to make a drawing of his head. There was still
plenty of daylight. Pd draw out on deck. We were only two days away from
the Equator, and that damn Maverick hadn’t shut up for a week about “Hey
you — waitll Fadder Neptune comes aboard down on d’line. Wait'll dat red-
headed gal, dat daughter o’ his, gets ya. She’s a hot baby. Haw —”

The fat Sailing Man with great relish had explained to Mush and me finally
what real keelhauling was. “Well, the way they used to do it in d’old days,
they’d tie a line — a long line — around your middle, see. Then they’d tie
annuder on the other side of ya. Then a couple of men would throw ya over
side, holding onto the line o’course and them what's holding the other line
would drag it around and under the stern and they’ d haul you down under
the keel of the ship and then haul you up. That’s all.”

“That’s all? Hell, didn’t that drown the guys?”

“No, not always. They had a line tied to ‘em, I tol’ you.”

“Didn't it hurt — didn't they get caught in the propellers —?”

The Fat Guy took his pipe out of his mouth and spat on the deck.

“Those ships didn’t have no propellers. Oh, they might have got scraped a
bit ’ginst d’barnacles, but they'd pull em up gasping like and half-drowned
— if they had any life left in “em.”

Mush and I shuddered and walked off.

“Did you think he meant that? Wonder if that old bastard is kidding us,”
Mush asked me. ...

The Twentieth Century 203

Well, I thought Flip was one I could count on. The least he could do was
to cut those lines they tied us with and I'd have a running chance. I could
hop about until the ship was safely over the Equator and then shout “Out
of bounds” or something else as appropriate when we were safely over into
lattitude S.01. According to the laws of the sea they shouldn't be able to have
anything then. .

In the mid-afternoon we crossed the Equator.

Mush, the pale guy from the black gang, and I had arranged to meet before
breakfast that day and talk over some sort of all-for-one-one-for-all protective
pact. Nothing came of it. We couldn’t agree.

All afternoon that day we chipped deck up on the prow — that was tops in
in misery.

“We should be hitting the old belt right about now.”

I looked up into the sun’s glare at the Bos’n.

“What'd you say —?”

He was standing with shimmering waves of heat from the sizzling deck
coming up around him, squinting up at the burning sun with his head cocked.
His watch was opened in his hand.

“The way I figured it, we should be crossing the Equator right about
now. ...

Mush and I anxiously watched those two doors that led into the purple
darkness of the shelter deck. If the Maverick and his bloody Father Neptune
brigade came at us, it would be from those doors. Sweat poured down on my
glasses and I let it run — I hadn’t any clean handkerchiefs. Finally, when the
effort of twisting around and watching those ominous holes in the bulk-
head got too much for me, I went back to chipping with a bitter indifference.

The hell with them. If they came, they came. Being hauled through that
water couldn’t be any worse than chipping rust blisters on that burning deck
— it would be cool at least — and I decided if that bunch did show up with
their keelhauling lynch ropes, homemade splintered wood razors, rusty wire
shaving brushes, and buckets of flesh-eating lather (made the week before.
the Maverick had told us, from a bucket of Soogie fermented in a mixture of
fishoil and crude oil — equal parts), Td ask the Bos’n to please keep my
glasses for me. He was the only one on the prow deck who wore a shirt, and
he could tuck them away in his breast pocket. Then I'd be ready for my shave
by King Neptune’s daughter — or was he to do the shaving and we marry
the daughter, before or after we were keelhauled? I didn’t know the pro-
cedure, and I never found out.

The Neptune brigade didn’t show up.

In the hot mess at supper the Maverick and a few others bellyached: What
did them lousers up on midships think — the crew was going to carry on the
ceremonies on their own time? Nuts! If midships didn’t have the decency to
co-operate, and cut down the engines and give the crew time off when we

204 Crossing the Line
1945, continued

hit the Equator — thell with them. There’d be no ceremonies. And there
wasnt.

(Louis Slobodkin. Fo’castle waltz. New York, 1945. p. 100-119, passim. )
Reprinted with permission of the publisher, Vanguard Press.

1946

In September, 1946, the British Admiralty gave out “ “Crossing the Line:’ An Account of the
origins of the ceremonies traditionally connected with Crossing the Line, together with a Pro-
cedure for the conduct of those ceremonies and examples of the Documents associated there-
with.” Thanks to the Office of the Chief of Naval Information, we give here most of the text
of the document, with brief summary of “I, Origins of the ceremony.” The “Foreword” runs thus:

It is not the intention to lay down a hard and fast drill for Crossing the Line.
To do so would only be an impertinence, but would ignore such factors as
the size of the ship, the local talent available, and the general circumstances
prevailing at the time.

With the return to peace routine, however, and the obvious necessity to
foster an awareness of the old traditions in the minds of the rising genera-
tion, many requests have been received for the promulgation of an authentic
order of proceedings.

This pamphlet has therefore been produced on the clear understanding
that it represents no more than a symposium of the basic features involved,
and in the hope that it may be of practical assistance to those who wish to
observe the appropriate ceremonies with the dignity and regard for accuracy
to which they are by custom and tradition entitled.

In compiling these notes, considerable reference has been made to “Cross-
ing the Line in H.M.S. Renown,” and acknowledgment is also due to Frank
C. Bowen, Esq., Commander R. T. Gould, R. N. (Retd.), and to various
officers for their assistance.

Part I, “Origins of the ceremony,” then follows [summarized here]:

The ceremonies connected with Crossing the Line are pagan in origin. In
their earlier forms, they were not even associated with the Equator, but
were in the nature of sacrifices to propitiate the gods when entering the un-
known. Straits and narrow passages, in addition to representing a transition
to hitherto unexplored waters, held very real terrors for seamen on account
of the purely physical hazards presented by strong and unpredictable cur-
rents, sudden gusts of winds, rocks and shoals.

Early records show that some sort of ceremony was connected with areas
such as the Straits of Gibraltar, the Sound and the Skaw. Forfeit was paid
by the ship rather than by the individual, and there is a suggestion of human
sacrifice in the early Viking days. The theory has, in fact, been advanced that
the ducking of initiates, now the main feature of the present ceremonies, is
derived from the actual throwing of a human body into the sea in moments

The Twentieth Century 205

of peril. Chaplain Teonge (1675) refers in his diary to the ducking from the
yardarm of men entering the Straits of Gibraltar for the first time, or being
required to pay one dollar in lieu. By the old laws, the mariner did not
remove his clothes from beginning to end of voyage, and Captain Woodes
Rogers, referring to the customary ducking “when entering the Tropic,” adds
that this was of great benefit in enabling many “to recover the colour of their
skins which were grown very black and nasty.” This may be symbolised in
the lathering and shaving of novices which is now part of the proceedings,
but there is no sort of supporting evidence to this effect. It seems more prob-
able that the lathering and other ministrations have grown up as part of the
mummery associated with any form of initiation. In any case, it is clear that
much of the traditional ceremony is indistinguishable from the universal
custom of “blooding” initiates, and so the final result is probably a combina-
tion of this custom and the symbolic remains of the original propitiatory
offerings to the sea-god.

In the course of time, both the Equator and the Arctic Circle became the
scene of traditional ceremonies, as marking the limits of fresh enterprise, and
to those who had not previously crossed them the boundaries of the “un-
known.”

The custom of paying forfeits, either in money or in kind, in order to avoid
the rigours of initiation, no longer obtains.

Part II
Dramatis Personae
King Neptune Doctor
Barber
Queen Amphitrite Barbers Assistant(s) King's Messenger
Herald(s)
Trumpeter (s )
Judge Policemen Head Bear(s)
Judge’s Clerk Bodyguard Bears
Notes

(i) The above characters are not all essential. On the other hand, certain additions are per-
missible, e.g. Mermaids, Ladies-in-Waiting, etc.

(ii) In a big ship, it is sometimes the practice for the principal parts to be taken by Officers or
Warrant Officers. When V.I.P.s are to take part in the Ceremonies, this is considered to be
essential, a special team of Officer Bears being enrolled to initiate them.

Part III
The Preliminary Function
The main ceremony of initiation, by its very nature, must rightly and
inevitably involve an element of horse-play, but the preliminaries can and

should be so handled as to make a lasting impression on those who witness
them for the first time.

206 Crossing the Line
1946, continued
These preliminaries, which represent the approach of the ship to King
Neptune’s domain, take place after supper on the evening of the day before
that on which the ship crosses the Line. The Daily Orders for that day should
contain an item in the following sense:—
2030 (About). The ship, being within hailing distance of the Equator,
will probably be boarded by an Emissary from the Court of King Nep-
tune. On sighting this Emissary, the hands will be piped forward to wit-
ness his arrival.

The setting for the Herald’s arrival must of course depend on the size
of the ship and the resources available. The following treatment is suited to
a cruiser or above.

Preparations

Run two or more old wash-deck hoses across the upper deck just forward
of the breakwater, and connect to mains. Hoses should have small holes
pierced in them of the right size and number to produce a vertical curtain
of water about 6 or 8 feet high when the mains are fully opened.

Rig green floodlights, yardarm groups, or “footlights” to illuminate the
water curtain, all lights being on a dimmer circuit. Rig spotlights to illuminate
figures standing in the eyes of the ship.

If available, rig loudspeakers to sound aft from the forecastle, with the
microphone concealed in a conch-shell or on the Herald's staff.

Drill
Pipe: “D’ye hear there? Ship is expected to be within hailing distance of the
Equator in ten minute’s time.”
When spectators are mustered (all abaft the breakwater), bring up water
curtain and floodlights slowly. Under cover of water curtain the following
muster as quickly as possible in the eyes of the ship:

Trumpeters
Herald
Bears.

Fanfare on trumpets, followed by a throaty roar of laughter through the
loudspeakers.

Herald: “Ahoy — What ship?”

Captain (from the bridge): “Her Britannic Majesty's Ship . . .”

Herald: “Who commands this ship?”

Captain: “Captain... Royal Navy” (adding decorations in full, e.g.
Companion of the Distinguished Service Order, etc. ).

Herald: “Stop the ship — I wish to come onboard.”
(Ring down Stop Both)

(i

—

The Twentieth Century

Captain: “The way is off my ship.”

(Lower water curtain, bring up spotlights on Herald and attend-
ants)

Herald: “Whence come you, and whither bound?”

Captain: “We come from . . . and we are bound for . . . We crave
permission to clear the Line and proceed southward.”

(It is sometimes the custom for the Captain to descend to the fore-
castle at this point. )

Herald: “My Royal Master, being advised of your approach, bids
me welcome you and those who sail with you. That all things
may be done properly and in due order, he makes known his
wishes by Proclamation, duly signed, and to which attend ye all.”

(Unrolls Proclamation. Fanfare of trumpets. Bears growl and as-
sume belligerent attitudes. )

“Whereas it has pleased us to convene a Court to be held
onboard Her Britannic Majesty's Ship . . . on the upper deck
thereof at...on... the said Ship being then on the Equator in
Longitude...

“By these presents we summon all those who have not heretofore
entered our Domains to tender the usual homage, and to be ini-
tiated into the mystic rites according to the ancient usages of

our Kingdom. Whereof nor you nor any of you may fail, as you’

will answer at your peril, and to the delight of our trusty Body-
uard.”
Gi: fanfare on trumpets — Bears relax)

Captain: “It shall be done. And now, ere you depart, will you take

some refreshment?”
(Captain’s Steward serves beer to all. Some apprehension dis-
played by Bears, who are served last, as to their inclusion in the
invitation. They should drink from bottles, the Herald and the
Trumpeters from glasses. )

Herald: “I now return whence I came. Pray cause these documents.
to be served upon those of your Company who come newly to the
domains of my Royal Master. Farewell until the morning.”

Captain: “Farewell until the morning.”

(Herald hands heavily sealed package to Captain — Fanfare on
trumpets, during which cut spotlights and bring up water curtain
slowly. As curtain reaches full height and ship gathers way, re-
peat throaty laughter. )

Notes

207

It is held by some authorities that Neptune and his full Court should attend the prelim-
inaries set out above, but this procedure is considered to be not only illogical but profoundly

bad theatre.

208 Crossing the Line

1946, continued
(ii) There is no sort of reason, if space permits, why the Herald should not appear in a nautical
chariot drawn by Dolphins, or other symbolic vehicle.

(iii) In an aircraft carrier, the advantages of using the forward lift for the arrival and departure
of the Herald and his attendants will be obvious, and similar remarks apply to the main
ceremony on the following day.

(iv) It is by no means essential to provide an individual Summons for each “initiate,” but
these documents are frequently treasured by the recipients just as much as the “Crossing
the Line” Certificates.

The alternative is to broadcast the terms of the document and post copies on the Notice
Boards. Individual Summonses, if issued, should follow the lines of the Herald’s Proclama-
tion set out above, the name of the individual being shown on a separate line in substitution
for the words: “All those who have not heretofore entered our Domains.”

The main ceremony

(a) Preparations
Routine

The Ship’s Routine should be so adjusted that nothing is done after scrub-
bing decks. The hands should be piped to breakfast as early as possible, and
to clean into skylarking rig.

It is sometimes the practice to get out a completely bogus routine, em-
bracing such items as “Bears to cocoa and wash.” The advantage of this pro-
cedure is that it provides a useful programme of events and adds one more
document for the record.

Rigging

The essential requirement is a stage, platform or dais, a canvas bath, and
a chair or chairs capable of being tilted in such a manner that the occupant
is precipitated backwards into the bath. If the number of initiates is sufficient,
two or more chairs may be provided, and possibly two baths, side by side.
The baths should be placed with the longer side running away from the
platform. The water should be about 4 feet deep, and it is well to place some
suitable cushioning material under the baths to prevent injury in the event
of any initiates receiving an extra heavy “bumping.” Arrangements should
be made for the water to be changed at frequent intervals.

Properties

The second requirement is the “lather” for use by the Court Barbers. The
essential point is lavish and simple application, and somewhat staggering
quantities may be required. The normal recipe calls for a paste of flour and
water in white and two other colours, but in these days of food rationing
some less palatable substitute may have to be found.

The Twentieth Century 209

The remaining properties, in the construction of which much ingenuity
may be displayed, are as follows:—
Stethescope (e.g. Voice-pipe headpiece)
Thermometer (e.g. Guage glass)

Lancet (e.g. Cutlass or Javelin)

Medicine (Sea-water, with a flavouring of quinine, in a
large variety of bottles)

Pills (Dough, “bound” if desired with horse-hair, and
flavoured with garlic or other tasty but harmless
concoction )

Razors (Made of carefully smoothed wood )

Shaving brushes (Whitewash brush size)

Note: The common attribute of all these properties is their exaggerated size.

Costumes

In general, the design of the costumes can be left to local talent and imagi-
nation.

The Bears, however, not only have to look something like Bears, but they
have to spend the greater part of the day in the bath. There are many ways
of meeting these requirements, but the following specification, taken from
the account of H.M.S. Renown when Crossing the Line in April, 1920, may
be of help:

The basic part of the costume was black canvas lightly thrummed
with yarns. A fearsome embellishment of teased-out spun yarn, like
phenomenal furs of an unknown species, thickly draped their necks,
shoulders and waists . . . on their heads they wore navy socks in
the manner of fishermen’s caps.

The important point is that the “foundation” should be strong enough to
withstand the clutching hands of struggling initiates.

Identification of Initiates
There are four methods by which those who have not previously crossed
the Line can be identified: —
(a) By inspection of Service Certificates — laborious and not
100% certain.

(b) By direct enquiry — not very satisfactory, and tends to detract
from the excitement.
(c) By adetailed enquiry addressed to Leading Hands of Messes,

calling for the names of those members of their Mess who have
previously crossed the Line, and if more than twice, how many

210 Crossing the Line
1946, continued

times — a laborious but satisfactory method, giving the names
of initiates by elimination, and identifying those old hands who
may be entitled to some special distinction by virtue of nu-
merous crossings.

(d) By direct “hunting out” by the Policemen — traditionally, this
is the correct method, but it is not easy in a big ship, and tends
to lose its interest and entertainment value if too prolonged.
It is, however, desirable that a few volunteer “reluctant par-
ticipants” should be found to open the proceedings, as de-
scribed later.

(b) Procedure

It is customary for much of the main ceremony, and particularly the earlier
stages thereof, to be conducted in verse. Once again, this must be arranged
in the light of local circumstances and available talent, but it is worth noting
that overmuch doggerel tends to become a weariness of the flesh.

The proceedings open with the assembly, in some suitable spot, of King
Neptune and his Court. (Once again, it will be noted that the lift of an air-
craft carrier provides an admirable piece of stage machinery. )

Preceded by the Music, Policemen and Bears, and followed by the re-
mainder of their Entourage, King Neptune and Queen Amphitrite, seated in
a nautical equipage drawn by Dolphins, then make a processional tour of the
upper deck, finishing either on the Quarter-deck or at the Royal Dais, as
deemed most convenient.

Here they are greeted by the Captain, and after a formal exchange of
amenities those persons qualified by previous multiple crossings of the Line
are presented. The ceremony is made the occasion for the investiture of
these veterans with Orders and Certificates appropriate to their rank, service
and personal idiosyncrasies, the necessary insignia being fabricated onboard.
(e.g. “Companion of the Exalted Order of Shellbacks,” etc.)

This is a suitable stage in the proceedings to tackle the question of lady
initiates. There have been instances when Flag Officers or Captain’s wives
have been present, and the usual practice has been to grant them honorary
certificates and to make them members of an appropriate Order.

For example, the Rev. A. Bloxam, Chaplain of H.M.S. Blonde (Captain
Lord Byron ) notes in his diary for 12th November, 1824, that Queen Amphi-
trite “addressed a few lines to Lady B.” while on the occasion of H.M.S. New
Zealand crossing the Line on 6th May, 1919, it is recorded that “... At this
stage Her Majesty (Queen Amphitrite), with much graciousness and charm
of manner conferred the insignia of the Most Unfathomable Order of
the Deep Sea Needle, First Class, upon Lady Jellicoe.” The account subse-
quently states that the distinguished novice was graciously excused hom-
age, a few drops of sea-water being sprinkled on her head in token of full
initiation.

The Twentieth Century 211

When these formalities are completed, the whole procession moves to the
scene of action, King Neptune and Queen Amphitrite take their seats, the
Herald makes a short proclamation, the Doctor, Barbers, etc., report all
present and correct, King Neptune orders: “Bears in the Bath,” and the bus-
iness of the day begins.

It is well to open with two or three volunteers, one of whom should be an
officer, who will undertake to act as “reluctant initiates.” That is to say, they
have to be sought out by the Policemen, they resist arrest, and, generally
speaking, are put through the hoop. The reading of bogus Punishment War-
rants prior to the final administrations of the Barber, Doctor, etc., lends
colour to this part of the proceedings and aggravates the apprehension of the
remaining initiates.

Events then take their normal course, the drill being as follows: —

(a) Initiate is produced by the Policemen or comes forward vol-
untarily.

(b) His name is announced, and a notation made against it in a
massive tome by the Clerk.

(c) He is seated in the chair, his temperature is taken, heart tested,
pulse timed, etc., etc.

(d) He is lathered and shaved, a pill is popped into his mouth, and
he is tipped backwards into the bath, there to be dealt with by
the Bears according to his deserts.

Certificates

It is worth taking a good deal of trouble over the layout of the Certificates,
and in the selection of a firm to reproduce them in colour.
The essential features are:—

(a) The ship’s crest

(b) A photograph or drawing of the ship
(c) The main body of the Certificate

(d) The seals of Neptune and Amphitrite

With regard to (c) above, there is no hard and fast rule, and the following
is merely taken from an actual Certificate by way of example:

Be it Hereby known that . . . has been duly initiated into the Ancient
and Mystic rites of our Realm as by our Royal Decree from time Im-
memorial. Further... We hereby require all such as have not yet entered

our Domains, to treat the aforesaid with all respect to which our duly *
initiated and loyal subjects are entitled.

Given at our Court on board Her Britannic Majesty’s Ship . . . on the
Equator in Longitude ... This... Day of ... 19. . (Seal)

212 Crossing the Line
1946, continued

If the ship is on a special cruise or particularly interesting foreign commis-
sion, a scroll showing the places visited adds to the ornamentation of the
Certificate.

1950/1951

When we left Aruba in the West Indies, our last civilized port of call, and
began our long journey south, a deep depression settled over the seven hun-
dred men aboard our ship. In Edinburgh, in Norway, and as we were bunk-
ering at Aruba, they had been gay, reckless, and jovial in manner and con-
versation. But after we turned southward, despite various attempts at organ-
ized fun on the ship in the way of parties, concerts, high jinks at the equator,
and the like, we all tended to become solitary and avoid the society of the
friends we had made.

(R. B. Robertson. Of whales and men. New York, p. 52-53.)

The tale of the senior medical officer on a pelagic whaling expedition to the Southern Ocean
in the 1950/1951 whaling season. Mr. Robertson is a Scot, new to this way of life. His story is
full of interest as showing the difference between the old sailing ships and the modern mechanized
floating factory. It stands out in connection with the present offering as showing how “the high
jinks at the equator” played a slight riffle in the listless current of daily life on the way to the
field. Just how “the high jinks” were staged is not told here. Left for “another story?”

Reprinted with permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., publisher.

1951

After Pearl Harbor, in 1941, millions more Americans went travelling than
ever before, and hundreds of them went across the Equator or the Pacific
International Date Line. All our servicemen who went to the islands and
atolls beyond the “Line” had their bit of fun on board ship, and were admitted
to the Order of the Golden Dragon.

The Golden Dragon is to the Eastern waters what Father Neptune is to
the Western. Now, old King Neptune's the figure about whom all fuss is
made when travellers come into his region for the first time; he’s the reason
that the victims must be lathered, and shaved and dunked in salt water —
following the “custom” of those who had been there before.

Those who don’t know that a Pollywog’s never crossed the Equator had
better not admit it; those who don’t know what goes on at the International
Date Line (or 180th Meridian), had better keep quiet, too. But here’s a
slight hint: Watch for the fatal gleam-in-the-eye. It's the sign of someone
who knows all about it — and you're in for trouble.

This is the story of the tradition of Neptune — and the “how” and “why”
of it all. May it not discourage prospective Shellbacks from leaving home,
and may it find favor with the real “shell-headed ones” and with the gods of
the Eastern and Western waters.

(Henley E. Combs. Shellbacks: Sons of Neptune. Illustrations by Dave
Lyons. New York: Pageant Press, 1951.)

The Twentieth Century 913

The “ ‘how’ and ‘why’ of it all” are here told in a book of some 28 pages with lively illustrations
and some blank pages for autographs. It opens with general remarks about King Neptune, and
then goes on to say: “thus begins one of the strangest ceremonies ever recorded in a ship’s log,
the crossing of the Equator, and the initiation into the royal service of King Neptune. .. . And
so the traveller learns that mercy is unknown in the region of the Equator.”

Recorded incidents in the long life of Neptunus Rex make up the bulk of this account, with
special attention given to the crossings of: van Linschoten in 1583, a Swedish traveler in 1751,
Woodes Rogers in 1712, Hauser Martingale in 1817, James Brady on the USFS Lancaster in
1877, the Duke of Windsor when Prince of Wales, King George and Queen Elizabeth in 1927,
USS Indianapolis in 1936 with President Roosevelt on his way to Rio, the Truman family in 1947
(also bound for Rio), the USS Pennsylvania in May 1936, etc., etc.

1952

(All Hands: The Bureau of Naval Personnel Information Bulletin.
October and November 1952)

The above two issues come to sight with words about the “crossing” well worth noting.

November gives pages 31 through 34 to “Are you a Whale Banger? A Blue Nose?” telling of
nearly twenty clubs in our navy with membership more strictly limited than in any Social
Register. Halftones of fifteen or more certificates given the rookie when he crosses the equator
or has other like experience on sea or land are all “unofficial, but they carry the weight of tradition
and growing customs with them.” We know already how the Neptunus Rex certificate is given
shellbacks when they cross the equator. Rounding Cape Horn makes you a Mossback. Some of
us may not have known, however, that when you cross the line and round the Horn on the same
voyage, you become a “Horned Shellback.” Crossing the International date line westward bound
lets you into the “Realm of the Golden Dragon.” An “Arctic Circle” or a “Northern Domain of
the Polar Bear” certificate tells that the owner has crossed the Arctic Circle. “The Royal Order
of the Blue Noses” is limited to sailors who crossed the Circle in the Operation Nanook of
July, 1946. From way down south comes the paper for “The Royal Domain of the Emperor
Penguin, Antarctica” entitling one “to all of the privileges of this frozen realm of blizzards,
including freezing, starving, shivering, and any other privileged miseries that can possibly be
extended during his stay in this land of answer to a Well Digger’s Dream.”

A “Plank Owner's Certificate” gives the owner “clear and unencumbered title to one plank or
section of plank” from the deck of his decommissioned ship if he has been a member of the
commissioning crew. A variation is the “Shackle and Grommet Owner's Certificate” giving the
owner title to “a half-inch shackle from any ship in which he has served for 15 years or three
consecutive enlistments.”

Pilots forced to parachute from a disabled plane are members of the “Caterpillar Club.” If a
pilot must ditch his plane at sea and take to a life raft, he may join the “Goldfish Club”; men
forced to spend more than 24 hours on a life raft through no choice of their own may claim
membership in “Sea Squatters.” If a carrier pilot on his way back crashes into the emergency
barrier because he failed to catch an arresting wire, he becomes an honorary member of the
“High-floating Hook Bouncing Barrier Crashers,” a distinction, it seems, if not an honor, he can
scarcely escape. If you fly through a tropical storm whirling at 100 knots or better you may belong
to the “Century Club” or the “Not so Ancient Order of Hurriphooners,” conceived by hurricane
hunters down Florida Way.

The “Royal Order of the Highjump” is for members of the U.S. Naval Antarctic Expedition
in the winter of 1946-47, and is in much the same class as the “Royal Order of the Mushroom,”
open to men who saw the first atomic blast at Bikini atoll in 1946. The “Club of Honorary
Submariners” is open to men who have been totally submerged in a submarine, and the “West
of Shanghai-Manila Club” is made up of men who took part in the westernmost penetration of
Japanese-controlled waters by any American task force since the fall of Corregidor.

Honors and distinctions vary, no doubt, but special note should be made of the “Royal Order
of Whale Bangers,” limited to crews of ships that track and attack whales mistaken for sub-
marines. And two groups call for further notice: “The Royal Decree for Having Been Stationed

914 Crossing the Line

1952, continued

in the Port of London” at Headquarters of our naval forces in Europe, and the “Railroaders’
Union, the Exclusive Society of Korean Railbusters,” this latter being confined to Marines.

Page 22 of the October issue tells the story of how “Shellbacks become Mossbacks on Cape
Voyage.” USS Oriskany, too large to go through the Panama Canal, was shifted from the Atlantic
to the Pacific Fleet and made the voyage round the Horn in May, 1952, with USS William C. Lawe
and USS Power as escorts. A halftone shows some of the crew of the Oriskany dressed in cere-
monial garb on their way to the performance.

1953

Royal liner crosses the equator, Ceremony on. escort. Aboard the Gothic,
Friday the 4th [of December 1953].

The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh on their Pacific voyage to the Fiji
Islands crossed the equator at about 11:80 a. m. today.

On a cloudy, overcast morning with a slight drizzle the Royal couple
watched through binoculars the traditional crossing-the-line ceremony on
the fore-castle deck of the escort cruiser Sheffield, two cables length (quarter
of a mile) away on the Gothic’s starboard beam.

The Sheffield’s crew crowded on to her two six-inch gun turrets on the for-
ward deck to watch “King Neptune,” with his consort queen, “Aphrodite,”
dressed in red and white robes and wearing golden crowns, hold their court.

King Neptune, holding a trident, read a proclamation which was followed
by the traditional “shaving” and ducking of those who had not crossed the
line before. — Reuter.

(The Scotsman, Edinburgh, December 5, 1953. p. 7, col. 5.)

On Board the Liner Gothic, Dec. 5, (AP) — The Duke of Edinburgh, togged
out in a butcher's apron, cut capers as assistant ship’s barber in traditional
ceremonies when this royal liner crossed the equator.

Queen Elizabeth II watched the antics yesterday from the bridge as King
Neptune came aboard to hold court. Neptune — Inspector Frank Kelley,
the Duke’s personal body-guard — was quickly doused in the swimming
pool, long white beard and all. But his green-robed Queen fought all attempts
to snatch her cabbage bouquet.

Charges were read against more than a dozen members of the royal house-
hold and staff. The Queen and Duke were exempt from the shellback initia-
tion, however, because they had crossed the equator before.

(Daily News, Greenboro, North Carolina, December 6, 1953.)

The Times of London seems to have chosen to pass over this incident, but it is a real pleasure
to find at least one American newspaper judging it worth a stickfull or so. New York City news-
papers were silent because of a strike.

APPENDIXES
A — CROSSING THE RIVER PLATTE

1804

[July 21.] Set out early under a gentle breeze from the S.E..... at 7 oClock
the wind luled and it Commns’d raining, arrived at the lower Mouth of the
Great River Platt at 10 oClock ... . This Great river being much more rapid
than the Missourie forces its Current against the opposit Shore. The Current
of this river comes with great velosity roleing its Sands into the Missouri, fill-
ing up its Bead & Compelling it to incroach on the S [North] Shore. we found
great dificuelty in passing around the Sand at the Mouth of this River. Capt.
Lewis and Myself with 6 men in a perogue went up this Great river Platt
about 2 [one] Miles, found the Current verry rapid roleing over Sands, pass-
ing through different Channels none of them more than five or Six feet deep,
about 900 [600] yards Wide at the Mouth, I am told by one of our Party who
wintered two winters on this river, that “it is much wider above, and does
not rise more than five or six feet” Spreds verry wide [with many small
islands scattered thro’ it,] and from its rapidity & roleing Sands Cannot be
navagated with Boats or Perogues. The Indians pass this river in Skin Boats
which is flat and will not turn over.

(Original Journals of the Lewis and Clark expedition, 1804-1806. Edi-
ted by Reuben Gold Thwaites. 8 vols. New York, Dodd, Mead, & Co.,
1904-05. v. 1, p. 86-87.)

Printed editions began with Nicholas Biddle in 1814 and come down to our own days. The
original manuscripts are in the library of the American Philosophical Society to which President
Jefferson turned them over for safekeeping. The complete text following the spelling and punctua-
tion of the original was first given in the Thwaites edition, and later in the Bernard DeVoto
issue of 1953 (the latter omitting a few passages from time to time not needed for his purpose).

Nothing is said here about any ceremony, to be sure, and it may be taken for granted that
the few members of the party who had crossed the Platte before had no chance to do any
initiating now. This account is set down here because it is the first crossing in recorded history
and because the quotations which follow show that the event was duly celebrated in a few
years.

1809

A Mississippi voyageur who had never passed the Platte was called a blanc-
bec; and upon his first passing he was subjected to an initiation, such as
used to be given to sailors when they first crossed the equator.
(Gen. Thomas James. Three years among the Indians and Mexicans.
Waterlook, Illinois: Printed at the Office of the “War Eagle,” 1846. Re-
printed in: Three years among the Indians and Mexicans, ed. by Walter
B. Douglas, Missouri Historical Society, 1916. Footnote reference on
page 20.)
1810
On the 28th [of April], they breakfasted on one of the islands which lie at the
mouth of the Nebraska or Platte River; the largest tributary of the Missouri,

[215]

216 Crossing the Line
1810, continued

and about six hundred miles above its confluence with the Mississippi. This
broad but shallow stream flows for an immense distance through a wide and
verdant valley, scooped out of boundless prairies. It draws its main supplies,
by several forks or branches, from the Rocky mountains. The mouth of this
river is established as the dividing point between the upper and lower Mis-
souri; and the earlier voyagers, in their toilsome ascent, before the introduc-
tion of steam-boats, considered one half of their labors accomplished when
they reached this place. The passing of the mouth of the Nebraska, there-
fore, was equivalent among boatmen to the crossing of the line among sailors,
and was celebrated with like ceremonials of a rough and waggish nature,
practised upon the uninitiated; among which was the old nautical joke of
shaving. The river dieties, however, like those of the sea, were to be propi-
tiated by a bribe, and the infliction of these rude honors to be parried by a
treat to the adepts.

(Washington Irving. Astoria, or anecdotes of an enterprise beyond the
Rocky Mountains. Philadelphia, 1836. vol. 1, p. 165.)

1811

Saturday, May 11. The river Platte is regarded by the navigators of the
Missouri as a point of as much importance, as the equinoctial line amongst
mariners. All those who had not passed it before, were required to be shaved,
unless they could compromise the matter by a treat. Much merriment was
indulged on the occasion. From this we enter what is called the Upper
Missouri. Indeed the change is perceptible and great.

(Hugh Henry Brackenridge. Views of Louisiana, together with a Journal
of a voyage up the Missouri river, in 1811. Pittsburgh, 1814. p. 226.)

No changes appear in later editions until v. 6 of Early Western Travels (edited by Reuben
Gold Thwaites, Cleveland, 1904) which adds “for the open bare plains, now prevail” to the
last sentence.

Bradbury went up the river about the same time, but his journal notes only his breakfasting
“on one of the islands formed by La Platte Riviere, the largest river that falls into the Missouri,”
on the 28th of April, 1811. Perhaps the good Scot said nothing about such frivolity because he

kept his men too busy for trifles, since he stopped here to lay in a new supply of oars and poles,
no ash being found on the upper river.

ca. 1811

The mouth of the Platte River was, in these early days, the division point
between the upper and lower Missouri. So important a landmark was it then
considered that the voyageurs came to treat it as the Equator of the Mis-
souri, and it was a regular thing to subject the uninitiated to the rude jokes
which are familiar to the navigator upon the high seas as an incident of
crossing the “line.”

(Hiram Martin Chittenden. The American fur trade of the far west.
New York, 1902. vol. 2, p. 768-769.)

Appendixes — Crossing the River Platte 217

Later

The mouth of the Platte was to the Missouri what the Equator, the “Line,”
is to the ocean. River navigators once celebrated the crossing of the Platte
as do salt-water sailors the crossing of the Line, and men who had never be-
fore been this far up the River were shaved and ducked and treated to other
high-jinks; these proceedings were usually well irrigated with whisky. A
man who had never crossed the mouth of the Platte was called, in fur-trade
days, a “blanc-bec,” which meant “white nose” or “white-beak.”

(Dorothy Gardiner. West of the river. New York, 1941. p. 28-29.)
Reprinted with permission of Thomas Y. Crowell Company, publisher.

B— CROSSING BY AIR
1942

Boys will have their fun too, no matter if you are flying low over the greatest
of rivers. As we crossed the equator — old Zero Degrees Lat. at 11:56 a. m.,
at West Longitude 49 degrees 32 minutes — I saw those of my crew who
had been in the South latitudes before take paper cups of water and drop
them on the heads of those who were uninitiated, thus making them sub-
jects of the sacred realm of Jupiter Rex as identified from the realm of Nep-
tune Rex on the sea. We crossed the Amazon, from just West of Point Grossa
over Bahia Santa Rosa to Mixiana Island, thence to Isla da Marajo.

(Robert L. Scott, Jr. God is my co-pilot. New York, 1944. p. 57.)

Reprinted with permission of Charles Scribner’s Sons, publisher.

1944

Headquarters, Caribbean Command, Mar. 25 [1944] — Mrs. Franklin D.
Roosevelt was initiated into the “Superroyal Order of Hyperterrestial Hop-
pers” by Lt. Gen. George H. Brett yesterday as her miliary [sic] transport
plane passed over the Equator off the Ecuadorean coast.

The “order” is limited to persons who have crossed the Equator in a mili-
tary aircraft.

(Washington, D. C., Evening Sun, March 25, 1944.)

An A.P. dispatch, reprinted by permission. Newspaper head: “Mrs. Roosevelt ‘Hazed’ In

Flight Over Equator.”
ca. 1950

I had served in the regular Navy 42 years before I had an opportunity to
cross the line, and then under unusual circumstances. I was navigating a
light plane for my son, who was the pilot. We were on the leg Singapore-
Batavia. I made the following entry in my Journal: “0932 crossed the equator

218 Crossing the Line
ca. 1950, continued

— Rex boarded plane and christened two pollywogs: J. W. H. Smith and
P. V. H. Weems.” The christening consisted of a rather generous baptism of
water while I was working away on my chart.

(Letter from Captain Weems, May 10, 1954.)
Printed with permission.
C— CROSSING ON LAND
1798

Crossing THE LINE (6:143 et al.). A ceremony similar in many respects to
that performed on shipboard when the Equator is crossed was practiced in
the northern frontier regions of North America in the late eighteenth cen-
tury. A detailed account of the affair was given by John Macdonnell in his
“Diary” entry for August 11, 1793. (Charles M. Gates. Five Fur Traders of
the Northwest. Minneapolis, 1933. )

Macdonnell, an employee of the Northwest Company, tells how he was
dubbed a “North man by Batéme.” The initiation was performed by sprink-
ling water on his face with a small cedar branch dipped in water. He had to
accept conditions reminiscent of those imposed on sailors at the Equator —
not to let any novice pass without practising the same rites on him, and
particularly not to kiss any voyageur’s wife against her will. The ritual was
touched off by the sound of “a dozen of Gun shots fired one after another
in an Indian manner.” And, naturally enough, the ceremony called for a po-
tation. (An Editor's note says that an initiatory celebration of the kind was
customary among voyageurs. The formality of the custom varied from oc-
casion to occasion, but the drink was a constant, an essential. )

Frederick R. Edwards
(American Notes & Queries, June 1947. v. 7, no. 3, p. 45.)

When the voyageurs passed from the St. Lawrence into the Ottawa and
again when they entered the Mattawa, they performed one of the man
rites that were traditional with them on their journeys. They pulled off their
red caps and a man in each canoe uttered a prayer. A little later, when they
left the Mattawa river, they performed another rite. Up to this point they
had used “setting poles” as well as paddles wherever the current was too
swift for the ordinary method of propelling the canoe. This system was called
“tracking.” At Lake Nipissing, however, they left the streams running east
and entered one, French River, whose current was with them. For that rea-
son they chose to express their joy of labor ended by going through a formal
ceremony of throwing away their setting poles to the accompaniment of
loud huzzas.

Another custom had already manifested itself on their trip. Near danger-
ous saults and rapids they had caught sight of tall wooden crosses on the
banks. Whenever such a cross was passed, red caps came off and a prayer

Appendixes — Crossing on Land 219

was uttered. For were not these crosses the rude but tender memorials of the
voyageurs to mates who had perished at these spots, caught in the treacher-
ous swirl and eddies of the stream? As many as thirty crosses on one bank
were recorded by a clerk who entered the country in the summer of 1800.

Soon after leaving Ste. Anne’s all clerks or bourgeois who had never before
accompanied a brigade into the interior were given to understand that they
would be “baptized” in the chilly waters of the river if they did not moisten
the whistles of their men. Accordingly high wines (brandy) was produced,
kegs were broached, and soon the red plumes in the Northmen’s caps waved
at more uncertain angles, and the sorrows of leaving home were forgotten.
(p. 40-41.)

Though the clerk could indulge in such luxuries as tea, a voyageur’s rations
were almost invariably a quart of lyed corn (dried peas were frequently used
until Mackinac was reached) and an ounce or two of grease, pork, or bacon.
From this last item, called lard in French, the class name, mangeur de lard,
“pork-eater,” was derived. (p. 51.)

There were compensations, however, in traveling on Lake Superior. When
the wind was soft and light and blowing from the proper quarter, sails were
improvised from oil cloths or blankets, and the little vessels sped along while
the voyageurs took their ease, smoking, singing, or sleeping. It was La Vieille,
or “the old woman of the wind,” who thus blessed the voyageurs with favor-
ing breezes and lightened their toil; and so, sacrifices to her were always in
order. The ritual consisted of throwing a little tobacco into the waters, or
scattering a little water from the blades of the paddles, and uttering the
formula, “Souffle, souffle, la vieille” (“Blow, blow, old woman”). This cere-
mony was doubtless borrowed from the Indians, whose customs were often
appropriated by the voyageurs. (p. 62.)

Grand Portrage was left with regrets for the end of rest and conviviality.
The carrying place there was nine miles in length, and the voyageurs earned
six livres extra for every pièce carried over the bitterly toilsome way. Now
the current was against the voyageurs until the height of land was reached
near Rainy Lake. On this eminence, whence water flowed northward to
Hudson Bay, east to the Atlantic, and south to the Gulf of Mexico, the voya-
geurs halted for another of their many ceremonies. Here every novice, be
he bourgeois, clerk, or pork-eater, must be made a Northwester. The cere-
mony consisted of sprinkling the candidate with a cedar branch dipped in
water. He then gave certain promises, among others, never to allow anyone
to pass that way without initiation into the ranks of Nor’westers, and never
to kiss a voyageur’s wife without her consent. The rites were completed with
a dozen gunshots fired in rapid succession and a treat of high wines by the
new members.

Another custom practiced in this region was the construction of a lob
stick. It was customary to make one of these Maypoles in honor of any gentle-
man who might be a passenger in a canoe. A tall pine, standing out on a point
in the lake, was climbed by one of the voyageurs, who, with an ax, cut off all

220 Crossing the Line

1798, continued
the branches except a tuft at the top, thus rendering it very conspicuous. The
name of the passenger was then carved on the trunk, and ever after the spot
was called after him. As the crew paddled off, the lob stick was saluted with
three cheers and the discharge of guns, the honored passenger, of course,
being expected to acknowledge the compliment by a treat at the first oppor-
tunity. (p. 66-67.)

. . not a little of the description of the voyageur in this book has been
derived from McDonnell’s unpublished diary. (p. 163.)

(Grace Lee Nute. The voyageur. New York, 1981.)

The quotations from The Voyageur are printed here with the permission of Miss Nute.

D — CROSSING IN SCANDINAVIAN WATERS

The principal entrance to the Baltic is the Sound (@resund). It is rather
narrow. At Elsinore (Helsinggr), where it is only 4 kilometres broad, the
Danish kings built the strong castle Kronborg (originally called Krogen) and
demanded, after about 1420, a tax or toll from every ship that passed by, the
Sound Dues, @resundstold (until 1857). From the tax rolls, preserved almost
complete since before 1500, we can realize what a vast number of ships every
year passed along this international sea-street. Until the peace of 1660 both
sides of the Sound belonged to the Danish crown; since then Sweden has
possessed the eastern side, the province of Skane.

The Danish coasts are rather low, but at the north-eastern entrance to the
Sound a promontory arises directly from the sea, the Cape Kullen (kulle =
mountain ). This mountain can be seen at a great distance over the sea and
must have made a certain impression on the sailors who came from the North
Sea and the Kattegat going to the Baltic. It caught the eye and got the signi-
ficance of a distinct signpost or frontier-mark of stone between the Kattegat
and the Baltic. We must admit that this place was well fitted for the ceremony
of sea-baptism. The young sailors or those who had never passed this impor-
tant place before had to be initiated, in order never to forget this remarkable
point of the voyage and to be introduced into the guild of the old sailors that
had passed here before. The sailors and passengers were baptized or, if they
did not want this, had to pay a certain amount, for which was bought ale,
brandy or wine, in order that the old hands could admit the young ones into
their company—generally speaking, for it was of course no real company
with written laws and membership, only a fictitious ‘company-of-those-who-
had-passed-Kullen’. The ceremony was in Danish called hgnse for Kullen.
The word hgnse (Swedish hénsa) means: give a certain amount for drinks
and food to the comrades, so that the giver can be admitted to their company.
When people have drunk and eaten together, they will be friends and
colleagues, and the new ones will be recognized as members with the same
rights as the old ones. In the German League of the Hanse the same custom
must have taken place (German: hänseln, hensen). Travellers on land also

Appendixes — Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 221

often had to be initiated at certain specially important places: big stones,
mountains, bridges, etc.

It is difficult to say how old the ceremony of hgnse off Kullen may be. There
are no written statements from sailors — most of them could not write, and
perhaps they also thought it better to be taciturn about their rites. But
travellers who described the adventures of their voyages now and then told
about them.

The oldest testimony we possess is from the year 1612. A Frenchman,
Anthoni de Lybrey, complained to the burgomaster and the town-council of
Elsinore about his treatment on board a ship that passed Kullen. The pas-
sengers were questioned by the sailors, whether they preferred to be bap-
tized or to pay some money as a ransom. His companions paid voluntarily;
but he would not, and all the sailors ducked him forcibly twice in the water.!

Three years later a Dutch Embassy passed Kullen on a Dutch war-ship.
Anthonis Goeteris tells about it: ?

The 6th (Sept.) at noon we passed a cliff, called het Col, where the people who have not been
there yet must be baptized. They are, as soon as this cliff is seen clearly, bound to a rope and
ducked in the water from the yard-arm three times and hauled up again. They may ransom them-
selves by paying a coin to the boatswains, and this the honourable gentlemen, the ambassadors

and their attendance, did. But some boatswains who had not been there before could not be
released.

Some contemporary notes in a copy of Goeteris’s book in Stockholm tell
that it cost two barrels of good beer and three hams, and that the king of
Denmark (Christian IV) also was baptized, when he went by for the first
time (1591?). This statement cannot be confirmed.

Charles Ogier, in 1634, accompanied the French ambassador to the wed-
ding of Prince Christian in Copenhagen on a French ship and wrote an inter-
esting book about his voyage and adventures in Denmark. He also tells us
about the ceremony:*

At dawn we saw the Cape Kullen which belongs to Skane and passed by. A gun was fired from
the ship, and the sailors gave a shout of joy, which we took part in as we had just arisen from
our beds. Here the gay and — for the seamen — rather profitable custom prevails that those who
for the first time enter the Sound must, when they pass this Cape, either be ducked in the sea
and baptized or ransom themselves from this treatment. For sailors and seamen it is only a pas-
time, because they love the ocean just as much as the firm earth. All the young ones, both
sailors and soldiers, are bound under their arms and breast and hauled up to the yards, — then
the ropes are let loose and they fall into the sea, three times up and down. The gunner came to
the ambassador and told him smiling about the old custom and asked for a good ransom. All
of us in attendance paid a dollar each.

The baptism was in reality a rather solemn ceremony. Another traveller
tells, in 1666, that a gun was fired and the flag hoisted in honour of it, as
the first novice was ducked.* The baptized sailors did not get a certificate;

1 Laur. Pedersen, Helsingor i Sundtoldstiden, Vol. I (1926), p. 76.

2 Journael der Legatie Ghedaen inde Jahren 1615, ende 1616 (1619), p. 2.
3 Det store Bilager i Kjgbenhaun (1914), p. 2.

4 Fra Arkiv og Museum, Vol. III (1906), p. 32.

299 Crossing the Line

but when they passed by another time, they had to swear a most solemn oath
‘on salt and bread’ that they had already been initiated there.?

From the seventeenth century still more testimonies are known. It is
evident that the baptism was performed in almost the same way on Danish,
Swedish, Dutch and French ships. Unfortunately I can quote no English
statements, but most likely the use would not be different among English
sailors.

Also the ship itself had to pay a ransom to the crew, if it had never sailed
by before. The pirate Jean Doublet in 1692 had to pay two barrels of wine
for himself and the ship; failing which, the sailors threatened to cut off the
figurehead of the ship, a lion. The same use was common on crossing the
Line.

The ducking from the yard-arm was a rather uncomfortable and danger-
ous treatment for both sailors and passengers. It was, in fact, also used in the
navies of the different European countries as a punishment, not as severe as
keel-hauling, but still rather brutal. Its origin goes back to the Middle Ages,”
and it was still in use in the Danish Navy in 1752 8 and in the French Navy
in the 1830’s.? Little by little a more humane method of baptizing was intro-
duced. In fact a Swedish statement of 1686 says 1° that the sailors in case of
stormy weather were not ducked in the sea, but that a big basket was tilted
over them on the deck, whereupon the old sailors poured three buckets of
sea water over them.

In the eighteenth century the plunging into the sea did not usually take
place any more. The novices were bound to the mast and douched with sea
water. The sailors fooled their young comrades into looking at the moun-
tain, and, as soon as they looked, they were required to hgnse or to be soused
with water. By and by it seems that the baptism was abolished, too; the
novices gave their bottle of brandy or their money-gift of their own free
will? Sometimes the captain gave an extra ration of brandy for the crew,
so that no one had to pay privately.!®

On Danish and other West European ships the custom was neglected
little by little, but in the nineteenth century, when the countries around the
Baltic began to build bigger ships, which left their home-waters, passed the

5 Peder Syvs danske Ordsprog (1944), p. 360.

€ Journal du corsaire Jean Doublet (1883), p. 167.

7 A. Jal, Glossaire Nautique (1848), p. 386; Etienne Cleriac, Vs, et Covstumes de la Mer (1647),
pp. 115 seq.

8 Kong Friderich den Femtes Sge-Krigs-Artikels-Brev, § 596.

9 Gréhan, La France Maritime, Vol. I (1852), pp. 206 seq.; J. Lecomte, Dictionn. pittoresque
de marine (1835), p. 91.

10Sam Owen Jansson: Ett par 1600-talsuppteckningar om hénsning (Budkavlen, 1952),
pp. 107 seq.

11 L. Boesen, Helsinggrs Beskrivelse (1757), p. 47.

12 Carl Tersmedens Memoarer, Vol. I (1912), pp. 148, 146; Rs. Nyerup, Magazin for Reiseiagt-
tagelser, Vol. II, p. 366.

13 Logbook of Kronprinsesse Maria 1804, in Handels- og Spfartsmuseet pa Kronborg.

Appendixes — Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 923

Sound and went all over the World, the custom was revived on the East-
Swedish, Finnish, Baltic and East-German ships. But not quite in the old
manner. In the meantime the ceremony of baptism on crossing the Equator
or Line had been established in the same manner as celebrated to-day on
almost all ships of the most various nations — with the sea-god Neptune, his
wife and his gang, with bishop, physician and barber, with shaving and
ducking in a tub, etc. And this baptism of the Line (linjedäb) influenced
greatly the Kullen baptism. Neptune came on board, and the sailors were
shaved and ducked in the tub. That is to say, sometimes it was not the God
of the Sea who appeared, but instead of him a personification of a local figure,
the Kullemand (Swedish Kullagubbe). Since medieval times people have
thought that such a mythical person lived in this mountain — an old, wise
man with a long beard, a sort of trold or ogre. According to the popular belief
and legend all the mountains and hills are the dwellings of the underjordiske,
the subterranean people of heathen origin. The sailors had to greet this
legendary figure, when they saw his mountainous dwelling, and he came on
board in almost the same shape as Neptune, but without crown and trident.
He is first mentioned in connexion with the baptism in 1852: one of the
sailors dresses like the Kullemand and demands his tax as a payment for
the protection which he gives the ship when passing his domain.

One of the few pictures known from this ceremony shows Kullabisin, as
he was called on Finnish ships, on board the barque Mainio of Lovisa in the
1880’s.!? His face is blackened, he wears a full beard of rope and is adorned
with sea-grass; his ragged dress is of sack-cloth. In one hand he holds a small
pail with tar and the ‘soap’ for the shaving, and in the other hand a long
wooden razor. His attendant is dressed in a reversed mantle of sheep fur
and a broad-brimmed hat. Old Swedish sailors report that on Swedish ships
also the Kullagubbe came on board, shaved them and cut their hair; if they
would not pay, they were thrown into a basin of canvas on the deck."

After 1900 again the sailors would be satisfied with a gift of brandy from
the novices, who in fact brought with them the drink from home for this
purpose.!7

An amazing custom, elsewhere unknown on ships, is the following, re-
corded by a Swedish sailor, in about 1880: 18

The old sailors spread out a sail on the deck, when the ship passed Kullen. The novice must
‘trample the canvas in honour of Kullagubben’. He was ordered to stand in the middle of the
canvas, whereupon all his comrades seized it and hauled, so that the poor man fell down; they

shook the sail, and it was impossible for him to stand upright. He often sustained hurt during
the few minutes that this took.

This act is similar to the custom known, e.g. in public schools, where

young pupils were thrown up and down in a blanket, tossed by their
comrades.

14 Ljungeren & Richardt, Skänska herrgärdar, Vol. I, Krapperup (1852).
15 Courtesy of intendent Sven Andersson, Sjöfartsmuseet, Abo.

16 Lunds Universitets Folklivsarkiv 3306:20 and 8845:5.

17 Sven Andersson. 18 Lund 4353:4.

994 Crossing the Line

The best records of the Kullen-baptism are quite modern and have been
written down from the relations of Esthonian and Latvian sailors. The sea-
trade of these countries began in about 1850 and was highly influenced by
German navigation. Probably also the customs of the sailors derive from
there. The baptism off Kullen lived longer there than in other mercantile
marines; in about 1930 it is said to have been still performed on Esthonian
and Latvian ships. I quote an older example, told by an Esthonian sailor
in 1898:1°

Here I want to write about an old custom among seafaring folk that even to-day sailors still
anxiously observe, that is the sailor’s baptism or, more correctly, the baptism of the cabin boy or
young sailor who for the first time sails a larger sea. This baptism, however, is performed only in
one place, namely in passing by St Kullen (Kullisaar = Hawk's Island),2° which stands in the
sea off Denmark, a little rock of an island. As soon as some ship on which there are young sailors
who are for the first time passing St Kullen has approached that island, so that the island can be
seen with the naked eye, a curious bustle begins on board the ship. All hands are driven on
deck, where they are stood in rows. Now the mate takes an old paper-rag in his hand and bawls
forth, as if reading from it the law of the ship, incomprehensible words of some foreign tongue
(mostly English). After this the young sailor is dragged from among the rest of the crew, and
in front of him steps one of the very oldest sailors of the craft, a tin with the tar-mixed shaving-
lather and a wooden razor with one edge smooth, the other toothed like a saw, in his hands,
and asks him, ‘For how much do you wish to be shaved, for three or for five?” This means that
the young sailor must stand the crew drink for three or five roubles, as a fee for the shave and to
celebrate his becoming a seaman. But there is another special difference between three and five —
if you express a wish to be shaved for three, you are shaved with that edge of the knife that
is toothed like a saw. Your tar-lathered cheek is scrubbed with it, to draw blood. But, if you wish
to be shaved for five, you are shaved with the smooth edge and scraped fairly gently. Such
shaving the sailors call hentseldus.21 No sailor has ever escaped hentseldus, since an unshaved
sailor is regarded as no sailor at all. The shaving-lather for hentseldus is compounded of tar and
several other kinds of muck. The process is as follows, —

When the young sailor has said for how much he wishes to be shaved (if he knows the
difference between three and five, he will never wish it to be for three, but always for five),
a big tub, in which the crew usually wash themselves, full of water, is carried on deck. Across
it a round wooden bar is placed. On this round bar the young sailor is made to sit in such a way
that he perches lengthwise above the water in the tub. Thereupon the old sailor with the tar-
lather tin and the wooden knife steps up to him, lathers his cheeks with the tar-lather, whether
he has a beard or not, and starts scrubbing him with his wooden knife. Lucky he who has no
beard, for those who happen to have one, especially if it is big, have the devil of a job to clean
it of the tar-muck; for the beard, of course, remains full of tar, and naturally the wooden knife
removes neither the beard nor the tar.

When the shaving or rather hentseldus is done, the baptism of the sailor begins. A big sooty
sheet-iron chimney is brought from the galley, stood upright between several men, and held in
mid-air above the victim sitting across the tub. Now the young sailor is told to thrust his head
right under the chimney-shaft and shout “Kull huu, kull huu, kull huu!’ ( = ‘Hawk hoo!’ The name
of the island St Kullen has been identified with the Esthonian word for hawk, kull) three times up
the chimney. No sooner has he shouted for the third time than one of the crew hits the chimney
a hard blow with his fist, so that the loose soot in it falls all over the victim’s face. At the same
time another sailor strikes the round bar the candidate is sitting on another good blow, and the
sitter tumbles head over heels into the tub, out of which he climbs as wet all over as a tadpole.
Now he has been baptized a seaman, and the whole crew congratulate him, whereupon the

19 O. Loorits, ‘About the Baptism of Novices as Practised by the Baltic Sailors’, in Tautosakos
Darbu, Vol. I (1935), pp. 180 seq.

20 This is a popular Esthonian etymology based on a misunderstanding, as Kullen means ‘the
mountain’. Saint Kullen is of course also false, and it is no island.

21 From the word hgnse in the German form hänseln.

Appendixes — Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 295

baptism is celebrated with good hard drinking for the money the baptized seaman has paid
for his shave.

The fishermen of the coast, too, have long known this baptism and therefore come in their
boats alongside the ships that pass Kullisaar to sell gin that is rather cheap, but at the same
time fairly strong.

The begging for money and the baptism itself were thought rather
inconvenient by the victims, and it is not surprising that the laws of some
countries tried to suppress the baptism. Already at the beginning of the
seventeenth century the Dutch East India Company forbade all such cus-
toms on its ships and converted them into a decent festival with extra wine
and food for the crew, at the expense of the Company, in order better to
control what might arise out of the rude fun. Of course it must have been
difficult to maintain such a prohibition, but in reality I know only one record
of a Dutch baptism on crossing the Line till the end of the eighteenth cen-
tury," whereas I have found at least three Portuguese, six English and
twenty-three French descriptions of this custom during the same time.

The Swedish king, Carl XI, put the following paragraph, most likely taken
from the Dutch ordinance, into his Sea-Law, 1667, Sweriges Rikes Sjo-Lag:?°

About the baptism of sailors

When a master in future sails past Kullen or another cape or point where people have been
accustomed to baptize those who have not sailed that way before, from this date such baptism
will be neither tolerated nor permitted, but the master must give for each sailor, who has not
sailed there before, a pot of wine for each table-company (mess) among the sailors, so that every
man may get a drink. But other people on board shall be quite free, unles they, of their own good
will, are willing to give something for the benefit of the sailors. If anyone forcibly acts against
this decree, he will be punished at the judge’s discretion.

We find another more severe prohibition in the famous Danish lawcodi-
fication, Christian V’s Danske Lov, 1683. The so-called hgnse-paragraph
(4-1-20) runs:

No one of the ship’s crew is from this date allowed to demand money or money’s value from
those who may be on board a ship, either sailors or travellers, when they come upon a certain
water where they have not sailed before, far less threaten them, after old bad uses, with being
soused with water and the like, but the master shall at once punish everyone who ventures to do
this with water and bread (i. e. severe imprisonment) for three days.

Here the master of the ship is not obliged to give wine or brandy to his
crew as in the Dutch and Swedish ships. On the other hand, we know that
they have occasionally done it.

It will of course scarcely be necessary to tell that this regulation was not
at all obeyed. The Danish sailors continued to hgnse, in Danish waters, at
Berlengas (Portugal) and, after about the year 1750, at the Equator.

Kullen was without doubt the most important hgnse-place in Scandina-
vian waters, because the Sound was the international shipping-route of the
North. But there were a lot of other places, where the same custom of

22 The Voyage of Fr. Leguat..., Hakluyt, Vol. LXXXII (1891), pp. 19 seq.
23 Skipmanna-Balken, § 20.

296 Crossing the Line

hgnsning, paying money for drinks and — less often — being baptized, was
in use. Most of these places were only known to the local shipping, and it
is therefore very difficult, in many cases quite impossible, to collect material
about them in our days. Only by lucky chance a few testimonies have been
preserved up till now.

Along the Danish shores we find some place-names, compounded with
the word hgnse, e.g. Honsekollen and Hgnsergn (rgn— shoal with big
stones ) on the island of Sjælland and Hansebugt ( bugt — bay) on the island
of Fyn. Hgnsebroer (bro = bridge) are known in Copenhagen, at Elsinore
and on the island of Christiansg. From the Hgnsepold (pold = hill) on the
island of Samsg we know that the novices on the local ships who passed by
for the first time had to give money (about 1750),”* and this custom was
observed till our days.

The rather flat and sandy northern end of Jutland near the Skaw (Skagen),
where is the invisible frontier between Kattegat and Skagerrak, was also
a remarkable point where sailors often had to pay (mentioned for the first
time in 1688 ).?° On this dangerous point a light-house was erected in 1561.
We hear that, when the Danish East Indiaman Kronprinsesse Maria in 1804
passed by the tower, the crew got an extra ration of brandy.?® Both Danish
and Swedish sailors used to hgnse here. Still in our century the young
sailors have had to take off their hats, in order to greet ‘the Long Man’
(the light-house. )

For the ships coming from the Baltic countries the island of Bornholm
was a very remarkable place; east of the island the water was so fresh that
they could use it for their cooking, but to the west it was too salty. Before
1914 many Latvian and Finnish sailors were baptized here.”

Along the shores of the Baltic Sea a lot of local hgnse-places are known.
A baptism was rarely performed, but the novices had to offer a drink to the
old hands. In many places this has still been observed up till our time. Rather
important was the mountainous south end of the island of Gotland, Ho-
burgen, where an ogre, the Hoburgsgubbe — a relative of the Kullagubbe —
was thought to dwell. The sailors were obliged to hönsa for him, when they
went by.?5

German sailors — and probably others — paid, when they reached Land-
sort (south of Stockholm), according to a testimony from the year 1686.?°
The skippers on the Mälar-Lake, west of Stockholm, probably used to hönsa
near Kungshatt, about 10 kilometres from the Swedish capital.°° Other
Swedish hönsa-places were, for example, the island of Stora Karlsö near

24 Thura, Beskrivelse af Den Samsge (1758), p. 39.
25 Peder Syv, op. cit. p. 360.

26 Logbook in Handels- og Sgfartsmuseet.

27 Loorits, op. cit. p. 187; Sven Andersson.

28 E. Smith, Nautisk ordbok (1914), p. 174.

29 O. Rudbäck, Atlands ..., Tridie Del (1947), p. 765.
30 Sam Owen Jansson,

Appendixes — Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 297

Gotland: the island of Jungfrun in the Kalmar Sound; the south end, Lange
Jan, of Oland; and the cliff Utklippan, south of Karlskrona.

Although not Scandinavian we may mention that Esthonian and Latvian
sailors baptized novices off Kap Ristna on the island of Dagö, and off Do-
mesnäs, Kurland.°!

In Travemünde, at the entrance to Lübeck, there was a certain tower,
where the sailors in the middle of the eighteenth century were baptized.°?

The ships that steered along the Norwegian coast between the small cliffs
and the firm land (the so-called indenskzrs route) passed, shortly before the
entrance from the south to Bergen, the island of Bokn, by the Dutchmen
called Buk van Raa. At this characteristic high island was the most famous
hgnse-place in Norway. In 1622 the Icelandic musketeer Jon Olafsson went
to Bergen in attendance on the Danish king Christian IV on some warships.
He describes the ceremony there:*°

We then came off a sea-mark, called Buk van Raa. Here it was an old custom and use of
the sailors that every one who for the first time sailed by was to be hoisted into the sea from
the main yard-arm, unless he ransomed himself by a gratuity. When our king learned this, he
mitigated this requirement in the following way: he gave every 4 men in company (‘mess’) a
can of wine, containing 6 potter (=1% gallon), saying that he knew pretty well that his
people preferred to be wet inside than outside. Consequently this sailors’ punishment did not
take place on that occasion, because of the gentleness of the king.

In about 1750 the sailors still held the ceremony here,** but soon after it
must have gone out of use.

On the long journey to the Russian harbours in the Arctic Ocean the sailors
in the seventeenth century were baptized not only when passing the North
Cape (Nordkap), but also off Nordkyn, the most northerly point in Europe
(about 50 kilometres east of North Cape ).55

Also the southern point of Norway, Cape Lindesnzes was known to be a
hgnse-place. Swedish sailors observed the ceremony here until our days.°®

Along the foreign coasts of Europe a lot of other places are known, where
the sailors performed the baptism. The most famous places were undoubted-
ly Pointe du Raz (Brittany, France ), the islands of Berlengas off Lisbon and
the Strait of Gibraltar, but there were many other places along the British,
French, Portuguese, Italian and Turkish coasts.

The sailors’ baptism is.a branch of the numerous initiation-rites that are
known all over the world, among both uncivilized and civilized people.
When the boys of primitive tribes are to be introduced into the company of
grown-up men, they must show their courage in enduring severe pain and
want of food and demonstrate their ability as hunters.

31 Loorits, op. cit. pp. 136, 138.

32 Boesen, op. cit. p. 49.

33 Oplevelser som Bgsseskytte under Christian IV (1905), p. 228.
34 Boesen, op. cit. p. 49.

35 Peder Syv, op. cit. p. 860; O. Rudbäck, op. cit. p. 272.

36 Erik Hagg: Under tretungad flagga (1941), p. 98.

228 Crossing the Line

From Europe related usages are known. The young apprentices among
the artisans were ill-treated by their older comrades when they had finished
their education, and moreover they had to pay an abundant amount for a
meal with plenty of drink and food for all of them. It will be seen that this
is the same symbolic meal, by which a new man is recognized as a real fellow
of the others, as on board ship.

The older students at the universities treated the new ones in almost the
same way (depositio), and in the schools the young pupils were — and still
are — baptized by their older comrades.

When a foreign farmer came to a village he had to give a feast for the
guild of the other peasants, with beer and abundant food. The boys in the
village who wanted to be acknowledged as grown-up men had to carry heavy
stones, smoke a pipe, drink a glass of brandy, kiss a girl, etc., and last, not
least, to give their comrades a feast.

The sailors and the fishermen used the same ceremonies.°” The young
cabin-boys that came on board were baptized, keel-hauled, ducked, shaved,
examined and tried in other ways. On some modern ships in Denmark and
Norway — and most likely in other countries — the new sailors are brought
to a cabin by their comrades, where they are mgnstret (mustered); they
must take off their clothes, and their genitals are examined in a rather ob-
trusive way (in order to ascertain that they have no venereal disease, they
say). If they let them do it, it will soon be over, but if they make resistance,
the genitals are besmeared with a mixture of grease, tar, etc. After this they
give a glass of beer and are acknowledged by their comrades as good mem-
bers of the crew.°®

It is now more than a century since the first folklore students and scientists
wandered over various countries to collect material about the habits and
traditions of the people. Millions of records have been collected since then,
hundreds of books have been written on account of them, and the science of
folklore has won its reputation and place beside other branches of knowl-
edge. But unfortunately most of the records deal with the life and faith of
the rural population. Our forefathers forgot almost completely to question
other classes of people — the artisans, the population of the towns, the
workers, the fishermen and the sailors. This is why we are rather ill-informed
with regard to the traditions of the sea. Of course, we know something about
them, but not enough, when we want to get to the bottom of them. And now it
is too late to start a new collection. We must resign ourselves to admitting
that it will be impossible for us to know exactly and in detail the traditions of
the old and dead sailors. We must be thankful for the small and casual testi-
monies that have been preserved for us to use. Our theme, the sailors’
baptism, would have been easier to treat in a complete way, if we had known
more about it than we do. We can only guess that it has been much richer and
more widespread than we know now.

37 Henning Henningsen in Handels- og Spfartsmuseets arbog (1948), pp. 64 seq.
38 Dr. phil. Svale Solheim, Oslo, and others.

Appendixes — Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 229

The author is preparing a book on the baptism of sailors in European
waters, on crossing the Tropics, the Artic Circle, the Line, etc., and would
be grateful to receive material and references from readers. It would be
interesting to have records from English ships of the Kullen-baptism. Ad-
dress: Handels- og Sgfartsmuseet pa Kronborg, Helsinggr (Denmark).

Postscript

Mr J. W. van Nouhuys informs me in a letter that he was baptized himself, on
passing for the first time what in Dutch is called the Kofmanslinie at Elsinore
(Cape Kullen), on 28 July 1882, when on a voyage on board the Dutch bark
Frans from Schiedam to Riga.

(Henning Henningsen. “Sailors’ baptism in Scandinavian waters.” Mar-
iner’s Mirror (London) August 1954. v. 40, no. 3. p. 196-205.)

Dr. Samuel Eliot Morison brought the article by Mr. Henningsen to my attention. A glance
showed how closely it was related to our subject in general, though differing slightly as to
locality and other details. Careful reading led further to admiration for the thoroughness of
research and for the good use made of manuscript as well as printed sources.

With Mr. Henningsen’s generous permission his entire article is reprinted here, together with
the following discussions of the topic found in the “Queries” columns of the magazine. Four
of these notes appeared over forty years ago. Mr. Henningsen’s query appeared in the issue
which preceded the publication of his article; the note signed “Bridport” appeared in the issue
which followed.

SEA CEREMONIES. — Jean Doublet, circa 1700, reports that some ceremonies,
similar to those practised on board ships crossing the line or the tropic, were
indulged in on passing Elsinore. I believe that at one time, probably before
1700, the same sort of thing took place on passing Gibraltar. Can anyone
quote instances of such a usage? — L.G.

(Mariner’s Mirror (London) January 1912. v. 2, no. 1, p. 31.)

SEA Ceremonies. — Jal (Glossaire Nautique) gives considerable space to
the subject, “Baptème.” The mock ceremony of baptism seems to have been
undergone by those passing for the first time — in French or Dutch ships —
the Ras de Fonteneau, (cap du Raz, the western limit of the English Chan-
nel) the two tropics; the Equator; the Barlingots or Barlings (rocks near the
mouth of the Tagus) and the Sound. Neither Dutch nor French, however,
whose different customs are quoted by Jal from Oexmelin, 1666, seem to
have used these ceremonies on passing Gibraltar. The form of the ceremony
as described by Oexmelin is very little different from that given by Guillet
in his Dictionaire du Gentilhomme s.v. Bateme du Tropique ou de la Ligne
Equinoctiale. The victims first took a solemn oath (a book of navigation
representing the Gospel ) that they would, when the occasion arose, perform
upon others the exact ceremony that was to be performed upon them; they
were then forced to run forward from the mainmast between two rows of
tubs, at each of which men with buckets were stationed, who soused them
as they ran and gave them their “baptism.” Father Neptune seems not to
have had any part in these early ceremonies.

230 Crossing the Line

Is it not probable that all these ordeals passed by those crossing a certain
point for the first time had their origin in the brutal horse-play with which
the Medizeval Hanse merchants initiated their apprentices; the idea being
to deter all but the boldest spirits from entering their service? The Bergen
trade seems especially to have been kept select by such means, and passing
the Sound would have been a necessary part of entering upon it. — R.M.N.

(Mariner's Mirror (London) February 1912. v. 2, no. 2, p. 62.)

SEA CEREMONIES. — “Le 29° juin (1692) étant proche du cap de Kol où l’on
fait la cérémonie de baptizer ceux qui n’ont pas passé au Zund, il se fit un
grand préparatif par mon équipage qui étoient tous flamands et que leurs
coutumes ainssy qua tous les gens du nord est de donner la calle, en guidant
les hommes au haut du bout de la grande vergue et de le laisser tomber d'en
haut dans la mer trois fois quelque froid qu'il fasse, puis on leur donne un
verre d’eau-de-vie et ils payent ce qu'ils ont promis et on l’écrit pour le payer
sur leurs apointements. Et cela revestit pour avoir de quoy les régaler tous.
Mon navire n’y avoit encore passé ny mon passager ny moy. Je fis présent de
deux bariques de vin pour n'estre baptizé que d'un verre d’eau de la mer et
empescher pour le navire qu'il n’en coupasse la figure en place du lion, ce qui
est d’ancienne pratique.” (Journal du corsaire Jean Doublet, edited by
Charles Bréard, 1883, p. 167).

The ceremonies seem of interest enough to justify the quotation of the
passage. In a note, M. Bréard quotes from “Les voyages de M. des Hayes en
Dannemarc, 1664,” p. 80, where the same ceremony is described: —

“Ils sont deux qui mettent un cordeau autour de cou, et un autre qui jette
un seau d’eau de mer sur la teste... . après avoir este mouillé, il m'en cousta
encore une pistole pour le vin des matelots.”

C. de Kol is C. Kullen, at the northern entrance to the Sound. “Il est formé
dun groupe de montagnes qui, au dire du savant Rudbesk, étaient tout
simplement les vrais colonnes d’Hercule.” — G.C.

(Mariner’s Mirror (London) April 1912. v. 2, no. 4, p. 126-127.)

SEA CEREMONIES. — Captain Meuss, I.G.N., writes: — “I remember that
when, as navigating officer of H.I.G.M.S. Niobe, a sailing frigate for the
training of naval cadets, I passed Cape Kullen coming from the Sound in
1885, the captain — now retired Vice Admiral Schroeder, formerly naval
attaché in London — ordered the cadets to be baptised with a ceremonial
similar to that used in passing the Line. I think the captain told us it was an
old custom of Prussian sailors to baptize any new hand when passing Cape
Kullen for the first time.”

In the sixties and seventies of the XIX. century, it was the custom on
board Riga sailing ships, when passing Cape Kullen, at the entrance of the
Kattegat outward bound, that “God Neptune” came on board to “baptize”
the ship’s boys performing their first voyage. When passing Gibraltar the

Appendixes — Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 231

same took place with any of the foremast hands entering the Mediterranean
for the first time. — W. Aucustowsky (Riga).
(Mariners Mirror (London) August 1912. v. 2, no. 8, p. 253.)

Saitors’ SEA Baptism. In some earlier numbers the ceremony of baptism on
passing Cape Kullen at the entrance of the Sound has been discussed (M.M.
1912, pp. 31, 62, 126, 253). The sailors and passengers on board who for the
first time passed those rather impressive rocks had to be ducked three times
into the sea from the main yard arm, or to pay a certain sum of money to the
old sailors, for brandy, beer, etc. The oldest testimonies of those ceremonies
(called hgnse for Kullen) go back to the beginning of the seventeenth cen-
tury, and sailors from the Baltic provinces still used to baptize each other at
this place up till our time, although it has been transformed into a regular
baptism of the Line (see my treatise in the year-book of the Handels-og
Sgfartsmuseum pa Kronborg 1928, pp. 58-68).

Kullen was the most popular place for sea-baptism in Northern waters
during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Another ‘international’
place, where the baptism was performed, was the Island of Bokn (by the
Dutchmen called Buk van Raa), south of Bergen, Norway. Elsewhere there
are a lot of places where local traditions of baptism have been maintained.
From other European waters similar places are well-known. The most pop-
ular of them were, it seems, Pointe du Raz (Brittany), Barles (or Berlengas,
near Lisbon), and Gibraltar.

I possess material on the custom from the following places: 1, Kullen;
2, Hgnsepollen (Island of Samsg); 8, Island of Bornholm; 4, Cape Skagen
(Scaw ); 5, Bokn; 6, Nordkap (North Cape); 7, Nordkyn; 8, Cape Lindesnzs;
9, Hoburgen (Island of Gotland ); 10, Landsort; 11, Jungfrun (Island in Kal-
marsund ); 12, Länge Jan (south point of the Island of Oland ); 13, Utklippan
(near Karlskrona); 14, Cape Ristna (Island of Dagö); 15, Domesnäs; 16,
Travemünde (near Lübeck); 17, bridge, Firth of Forth (Danish ships);
18, the Channel (Baltic sailors); 19, Dover; 20, Scilly Islands; 21, Lands
End; 22, Pointe du Raz; 23, Saint-Malo; 24, Arguenon (river); 25, Raz Blan-
chart; 26, Cape Finisterre; 27, Berlengas; 28, Cape St Vincent; 29, Gibraltar;
80, Messina; 31, Dardanelles; 32, St Goar (town on the Rhine); 33, Donaus-
trudel (swirl in the river Danube).

As I am working on this subject, I would like to ask your readers, if they
can provide me with some more material from the mentioned places or from
others. References to any literature on the subject are also welcome.

HENNING HENNINGSEN

(Hr. Henning Henningsen’s address is: Maritime and Trade Museum,
Kronborg, Elsinore, Denmark. — Ed. )
(Mariner's Mirror (London) May 1954. v. 40, no. 2, p. 161-162.)
SAILOR’S BAPTISM IN SCANDINAVIAN WATERS. — I do not agree with the con-

clusion reached by the author of the article under this heading which ap-
peared in The Mariner's Mirror of August 1954.

232 Crossing the Line

Mr. Henning Henningsen states that the sailors baptism is a form of the
world-wide custom of the initiation of youths into the company of grown
men. In my opinion these ceremonies are of purification and homage before
venturing into the unknown. As they are all similar in form one can, I think,
assume that they came into being for the same reason.

The Crossing the Line ceremony is typical of them all and only minor de-
tails differ.

After King Neptune and his Queen (Amphitrite) with their attendants
have come on board over the bows and the Captain of the ship has granted
them permission to hold their court the policemen of the court seek out and
bring by force those of the ship’s company who have not Crossed the Line
before, in front of Neptune. Here the homage and purification (shaving by
the barbers and ‘ducking’ by the bears) ceremonies are carried out. Then
a certificate is granted. A typical certificate is as follows:

PROCLAMATION

Be it known on:this days rer in Longitude______ the
trustworthy and esteemed

Whilst in search of divers conquests, scrap metal and stray mer-
maids, did pass into my Southern Domain and did pay due respects
to Queen Amphitrite and Myself. I therefore declare that in future
all whales, dolphins, porpoises, sharks, crayfish, jellyfish, flatfish,
and tinfish whom he may encounter, shall treat him in a manner be-
fitting that of one of my loyal subjects, also that he may be exempt
from further homage.
NEPTUNE
Maris Rex

(The above is a copy of a World War II certificate and ‘scrap metal’ refers
to enemy ships, and ‘tinfish’ to torpedoes. )

It should be noted that not only the young go through this ceremony but
all people, both young and old who have not crossed the line before. Also
it should be noted that nowhere in the certificate is any mention made to
the effect that the recipient can now consider himself a true man or a fully
qualified sailor, etc. The certificate, apart from stating that the individual
has paid homage, is an order by Neptune to the inhabitants of his domain to
grant a safe passage.

It is my opinion that all these baptismal ceremonies of sailors are carried
out to obtain protection and to allay the fear of the unknown that lies beyond
a cape or headland, or before venturing into a far sea or ocean. They are
carried out symbolically before the presiding god of the new unexplored

Appendixes — Crossing in Scandinavian Waters 233

region; a half frightening half benevolent Old Man such as Neptune or a
personification of a local diety such as Kullemand. (Here it is interesting to
note that only Neptune is accompanied by a female figure. Also the crossing
the line ceremony appears to be the only one where a new recruit is not
called upon to pay a fee, such as of drinks or a feast, to his more experienced
shipmates. )

On the last page of the article there is reference to the besmearing of the
genitals of young sailors with grease tar, etc. Sir James Frazer in The Golden
Bough writes that the Arcadians had a custom of whipping the image of Pan
with squills at a festival, or whenever the hunters returned empty-handed.
This was done, not to punish the god but to purify him from harmful influ-
ences which were impending him in the exercise of his divine functions as
a god who should supply the hunter with game.

Similarly, the object of beating, etc., the human being on the genital
organs with squills and so on must have been to release his reproductive
energies from any restraint or spell under which they might be laid by
demonaical or other malignant agency.

Is it, on my part, too much a flight of fancy to recognize the young sailor,
and especially the young fisherman, in this part of the article, as a repre-
sentative of the creative and fertilizing god of the harvest of the sea, i. e. the

fishes? B
RIDPORT
(Mariner’s Mirror (London) November 1954. v. 40, no. 4, p. 313-314.)

CHRONOLOGY OF WRITERS BY NATIONALITY

AMERICAN

Little

Porter

Browne

Morrell

Gelett

Dana

Horner

Greene

Bagley

Colton

Nordhoff

Coffin

Haley

Melville

Mitchell

Munger

Lewis & Allen
“Roving Printer”
Allen

USS Colorado Log
Allen

Bassett

Brady

Mark Twain
Penrose

Loomis

Holland

Maguire

Morley & Hodgson
Fahnestock

Reilly

Lovette

Scott (by air)
Anderson & May
Metcalf

Heinz

Wash., D. C. Sunday Star
Baumrucker
Wash., D.C. Evening Sun *
Slobodkin

Weems (by air)
Combs

All Hands Account

BRITISH

Gentleman’s Dictionary
Rogers

Falconer

Newton

Chandler

Cook

Cook

Forster

Fletcher (fictional )
Schaw

1808
1812
1814
1822
1833
1834
1841
1841
1844
1845
1845
1849
1849
1849
1849
1850
1853
1855
1866
1870
1873
1884
1885
1897
1904
1911
1913
1919
1923
1930
1936
1939
1942
1943
1943
1944
1944
1944
1944
1945
1950
1951
1952

1678
1708
1720
1752
1764
1768
1772
1772
1774
1774

* Account of crossing of Mrs. Roosevelt by air.

Cook

Dixon

Grose

White

Staunton

Gentleman’s Magazine
Dyott

Senior

Chambers

Davis

Lever (fictional)
Marryat (fictional )
Darwin

Fitz-Roi

Darwin

Hall

Walpole

Barker

Hamilton

Bolitho

Marsden

Butler

British Admiralty Account
Robertson

Edinburgh Scotsman +
Greensboro, N. C. Daily News +

DUTCH

Linschoten
Schouten, Willem
Schouten, Wouter
Esquemeling

FRENCH

Parmentier
de Léry
Coppier
Dutertre
Du Saussay
Guillet de Saint-George
Choisy
Tachard
Duquesne
Leguat
Froger
Frézier
Diderot
Pernetty
Berthier
Chateaubriand
Romme
Audubon
Corbiére
Fréminville
Las Cases

1776
1785
1785
1787
1792
1792
1796
1801
1801
1803
1809
1829
1831
1832
1832
1832
1844
1844
1910
1920
1920
1922
1946
1950/51
1953
1953

1583
1615
1658
1666

1529
1557
1645
1654
1663
1678
1685
1685
1690
1690
1695
1712
1751
1763
1780
1791
1792
1797
1801
1802
1815

7 Accounts of crossing of Elizabeth II of England.
[ 235 ]

236
French, continued

Annales Maritimes
Jal

Freycinet

Arago
Fréminville
Dumont d’Urville
Jacquemont
Habasque
Lecomte

La Landelle
Dubarry

GERMAN & AUSTRIAN

Worm
Kollonitz
Buchner

Schaeffer

Crossing the Line

1816
1816-19
1817
1817
1822
1826
1828
1832-36
1837-42
1855
1869

1709
1864
1875
1945

ITALIAN

Gattine & Plaisance
Coronelli
Desideri

RUSSIAN

Krusenstem
Lisyanski
Shemelin

von Kotzebue
von Kotzebue
von Kotzebue
Lazarev
Vysheslavtzev

SWEDISH

Campanius Holm
Osbeck

1667
1690
1713

1803
1803
1803
1815
1818
1823
1823
1858

1642
1751

INDEX OF NAMES

In Text, Notes, and Introduction

Alexander I of Russia 80, 81, 82, 163
Allen, William A. H. 163, 164, 169
Allen, William B. 160

American Peoples Encyclopedia 9
Americana 9

Ames, Nathaniel 63

Amherst, Lord 126

Anderson, Mr. 53

Anderson, Jack 194

Andersson, Sven 223, 226 —
Andrews, Charles McLean 52
Andrews, Evangeline Walker 52
Annales Maritimes et Coloniales 89
Arago, Jacques 111, 115-116
Aubin, Nicholas 39, 172

Audubon, John James 65
Augustowsky, W. 231

Bagley, Clarence B. 147

Banks, Sir Joseph 15, 48
Barker, Mathew Henry 151
Barlow, Nora 124, 129-130
Bassett, Fletcher S. 174
Baumrucker, R. O. 199
Benbow, Admiral 38

Berkey, Charles P. 179
Berthier, Louis-Alexandre 55
Biddle, Nicholas 215

Bloxam, Rev. A. 210

Boesen, L. 222, 227

Bolitho, Hector 183
Bougainville, M. de 41-46, 53
Bowen, Frank C. 204
Brackenridge, Hugh Henry 216
Bradbury 216

Brady, James 177, 213

Bréard, Charles 230

Brett, George H. 217

Bridport 229, 233

Britannica 9

Brockhaus 9

Browne, Benjamin Frederick 86
Buchner, Max 171

Burnell, Arthur Coke 18

Butler, Frank Hedges 186
Byron, George Anson Byron, 7th baron 210

Callaghan, Lt. Comm. Daniel J. 182
Camoens, Luis de 5, 41, 46, 53
Chambers’ Book of Days 8, 76
Chandler, Mr. 177

Chandler, Richard 47

Charles IX of Sweden 178

Chateaubriand, Francois René, Vicomte de 47,

57, 58
Chaumont, Chevalier 30-31

Chetwood, William Rufus 38

Chinard, Gilbert 55

Chittenden, Hiram Martin 216

Choisy, L. D. 30-81

Christian IV of Denmark 221

Clark, William 215

Clemens, Samuel Langhome 161, 178
Cleriac, Etienne 222

Coates, Prime Minister of New Zealand 187
Coffin, George 154

Colliers Encyclopedia 9

Collin de Plancy 173

Colton, Rev. Walter 131, 151, 163, 164
Columbus, Christopher 4, 107, 173
Combs, Henley E. 212

Cook, Captain James 15, 47-50, 53, 57, 106
Cooley, Lt. Commander T. R. 191
Cooper, Capt. George H. 168

Cooper, James Fenimore 69, 105
Coppier, Guillaume 21

Corbiére, Edouard 10, 69

Coronelli, M. V. 33, 39

Cruikshank, Robert 151

Daily, Harry 197

Dana, Richard Henry 181, 163, 164
Daniels, Josephus 151, 169

Darwin, Charles 15, 124, 129-180
Davis, Dwight F. 182

Davis, John 80

Des Hayes, M. 230

Desideri, Ippolito 38

DeSmet, Father 147, 163, 164
DeVoto, Bernard 215

Diaz, Bartolomeu 5, 107

Diderot, Denis 9, 89

Dilettanti Society 47

Dixon, George 56

Doublet, Jean 222, 229, 230
Douglas, Walter B. 215

Drake, Sir Francis 6

Druze, John F. 198

Dubarry, A. 11, 167

Dumont d’Urville, Jules Sébastien César 119
Duquesne, Abraham, the younger 31
Du Saussay, Carpeau 25

Dutertre, Jean Baptiste 22-23, 26, 31
Dvoichenko-Markov, Eufrosina 83
Dyott, William 64

Edinburgh, Duke of 214

Edward VIII of England 183, 185, 213
Edwards, Frederick R. 218

Elizabeth II of England 214
Enciclopedia Italiana 9

Enciclopedia Universal Ilustrada 9

[ 237 ]

238

Encyclopedias 8-9
Esquemeling, John 26-27, 33, 69, 174

Fahnestock, Mary Sheridan 188

Fairbanks, Helen R. 179

Falconer, Richard 38, 70

Filippi, Filippo de 38

Fitz-Roi, Robert 82, 116, 119, 128-129

Fletcher, Francis 6

Fletcher, Inglis 53

Forster, George 50

Forster, J. R. 40

Frazer, Sir James 233

Fréminville, Christophe Paulin de la Poix,
chevalier de 78, 118

Freycinet, Louis de 106, 111, 112-113, 115

Frézier, Amédée-François 37

Froger, François 34

Gama, Vasco da 5, 41, 46, 58, 107

Gardiner, Dorothy 217

Gates, Charles M. 218

Gattine, Michel Ange de 27-28

Gelett, Charles Wetherby 131

Gennep, Arnold van 8

Gentleman’s Dictionary 29

Gentleman’s Magazine 8, 11, 52, 63, 106

George III of England 122, 124

George IV of England 122, 124

George VI of England 213

Godwin, William 79

Goeteris, Anthonis 221

Gohdes, Clarence 146

Gomme, George Laurence 63

Gould, Comm. R. T. 204

Graff, Henry F. 160

Greene, Richard Tobias 146

Gréhan, Amédéé 145, 222

Grolier Encyclopedia 9

Grose, Francis 56, 63

Guillet de Saint-George, Georges 29, 39, 69,
229

Habasque, François Marie Guillaume 130

Hägg, Erik 227

Haley, Nelson Cole 11, 158

Hall, Basil 128, 192

Hall, Captain Edward 74

Hamilton, Lord Frederic 179-180

Hawkesworth, John 47

Hawthorne, Nathaniel 86

Heffernan, Rear Adm. John B. 168

Heinz, W. C. 199

Henningsen, Henning 6, 38, 47, 56, 58, 228,
229, 231, 232

Henry the Navigator 5, 10

Herpin, E. 78, 118

Hodgson, J. S. 187

Holcroft, Thomas 79

Holland, William Jacob 182

Holm, Thomas Campanius 19-20, 39, 40

Crossing the Line

Hone, William 74, 174
Horner, G. R. B. 146

Irving, Washington 216

Jablonowski, Mme. 77
Jacquemont, Victor 120

Jal, A. 105, 178, 222, 229
James, Gen. Thomas 215
Janin, Jules 111

Jansson, Sam Owen 222, 226
Jeffery, Reginald W. 65
Jellicoe, Lady 210

Johnson, D. L. 199

Kelley, Frank 214

aa G. J. 199

Kinkeldey, Dr. Otto 15

Kippis, Andrew 50

Kitson, Arthur 50

Kollonitz, Countess Paula 163

Kôtelär, Joann Josuä 36

Kotzebue, Otto von 82, 87, 116, 119, 128-129,

131
Krusenstern, Adam Johann von 80, 82, 83

“Lady of Quality” 52

Lafitau, Father Joseph François 8

La Fontaine, Jean de 92

La Hontan, Louis Armand, baron de 47
La Landelle, Gabriel de 162

Lapp, J. C. 16

Larousse 8, 9

Larsen, Lars J. 197

Las Cases, Emmanuel, comte de 87, 88
Lazarey, Captain Andrei 119

Le Beau, Claude 47

Lecomte, Jules 8, 145, 222

Leguat, François 32

Lempriere’s Dictionary 126

Léry, Jean de 16

Levaillant, Maurice 57

Lever, Charles 84

Lewis, John R. C. 160

Lewis, Merriweather 215

Linschoten, John Huyghen van 18, 19, 27, 218
Lisyanski, Yuril 81, 82, 163

Little, George 83

Ljunggren & Richardt 223

Loomis, Frederick Brewster 180
Loorits, O. 224, 226, 227

Lovette, Admiral Leland P. 151, 158, 192
Low, Frederick Ferdinand 168

Lybrey, Anthoni de 221

Lyons, Dave 212

Macartney, Lord 59, 106
McCarthy, Joseph 193-194
MacDonald, Flora 53
Macdonnell, John 218, 220
Magellan, Ferdinand 5

Index of Names 239

Maguire, William A. 183 Richardt See Ljunggren & Richardt
Mark Twain. See Clemens, Samuel L. Rigny, Vice-Admiral de 105
Marryat, Frederick 124, 174 Robertson, R. B. 11, 212
Marsden, Victor E. 185 Rockwell, Chaplain 174
Martingale, Hauser 213 Rodgers, Rear Adm. John 168
Maw, Nathaniel Castleton 70-76, 160 See also Rogers, Woodes 35, 205, 213
Shaw, Lieut. Romme, Charles 59
Maxwell, Sir Murray 126 Roosevelt, Mrs. Eleanor 217
May, Ronald W. 194 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano 188, 213
Mélusine 89, 162, 167 Rose, H. A. 78
Melville, Herman 11, 146, 158 “Roving Printer” 161
Metcalf, William Gerrish 197 Rudbäck, ©. 226, 227
Meuss, Captain, I. G. N. 230
Meyers Lexikon 9 Schaeffer, Heinz 200
Mitchell, Clarence Blair 159 Schaw, Janet 52
Mitchell, Clarence Green 159 Schefer, M. 16
Moraes, Rubens Borba de 17 Schouten, Willem Cornelisz 19, 23
Morehouse, Albert K. 193 Schouten, Wouter 23-24, 27
Morison, Samuel Eliot 4, 16, 229 Schroeder, Vice Adm. 230
Morley, F. V. 187 Scott, Robert L., Jr. 217
Morrell, Benjamin 118 Senior, W. 73
Morrison, A. J. 80 Shaw, Lieut. 74-76 See also Maw, N. C.
Munger, James F. 160 Shemelin, Fiodor 82
Murray, Edwin L. 199 Slobodkin, Louis 204
Slocum, William J. 188
Napoleon Bonaparte 87-88 Smith, E. 226
Newton, John 40 Smyth, Clifford 86
Nordhoff, Charles 152 Solheim, Svale 228
Nouhuys, J. W. van 229 Spenser, Edmund 85
Nute, Grace Lee 220 Stanley, Henry M. 7
Staunton, Sir George Leonard 59, 106
Oexmelin, Alexandre Olivier 173, 229 Sue, Eugene 69
Ogier, Charles 221
Oliver, Captain Pasfield 32 Tachard, Gui 30, 31
Ollivant, J. E. 163 Teonge, Chaplain 205
Osbeck, Peter 40, 69, 70 Tersmedan, Carl 222
Thomas, Capt. Charles W. 196
Parmentier, Jean 6, 15-16, 23, 173, 174 Thompson, John D. 192
Pars, William 47 Thura 226
Peder, Syv 222, 226, 227 Thurston, Lorrin A. 181
Pedersen, Laur. 221 Thwaites, Reuben Gold 215, 216
Pena, Nicholas 87 Truman, Harry S. 213
Penrose, Richard Alexander Fullerton 179 Tyler, Alice Jaynes 65
Pernetty, Antoine Joseph 46, 53
Péronne, M. de 76 Urban, Sylvanus 63
Perry, Matthew C. 160
Pigafetta, Antonio 5 Verne, Jules 200
Plaisance, Denys de Carli de 27-28 Vysheslavtzev, A. 163
Plancy See Collin de Plancy
Polo, Marco 7 Walpole, Frederick 148
Pope, Alexander 79 Weems, Capt. P. V. H. 218
Porter, David 84, 159 Weise, Crispinus 36
Porter, Lt. 159 Wharton, Sir W. J. L. 47
Potter, Captain 175 White, John 57
Prendergast, John 73 Wiley, Capt. H. V. 199
Prior, Captain 96-105 Williamson, James Alexander 50
Willis, George R. 168
“Rambler” 11, 60, 63 Worm, Johann Gottlieb 9, 31, 36
Reilly, Michael F. 188
Renneville, R. A. C. de 24 Yarmolinsky, Dr. Avrahm 80, 81, 82, 119, 163

Revett, Nicholas 47 Yarnell, Adm. Harry 158

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