“Now boys,” he said, “we shall cross the equator to-day, and if you have good eyesight and a clear day, you should be able to see the line, now then, Walter, you look first.”
Walter looked long and earnestly through the glass.
“Can you see anything, here let me see,” and he took the glass in his hands again. After fixing it again he gave it back to Walter who had another good look.
“Why, yes, sir,” he said, “I believe I can see a line, it is very faint, but I think it is there.”
“Now, George,” said Mr. McLean, “you look, look well, and let me see if your eyesight is as good as it looks.”
I took the glass and raised it to my eyes, and there sure enough was a line right across. What a wonderful thing that it could be seen.
We thanked Mr. McLean and went back to our work, and it was many a long day before we found out that it was a joke that had been played upon us, and that the line we saw was a hair placed across the glass.
The other incident was a visit from Father Neptune—one of the few romances left to the sailor in sailing ships, and in this visit Walter Jones, two of the sailors and I, had the pleasure and privilege—which is doubtful—of taking part. In preparation for the event a topmast stun-sail was rigged on the after skids and filled with salt water, about three feet above this a stage was also rigged, and this completed, all the visible preparations for the visit of his majesty.
We crossed the line on the thirty-second day out at noon, and precisely at that hour Father Neptune and his wife (the steward and sailmaker) accompanied by his retinue, which consisted of a doctor, barber, and policeman, came over the bow. Then, after a few preliminaries, the second mate read to the sea king a list of the introductions to be made. The captain and chief mate meanwhile standing on the poop watching and enjoying the proceedings.