It was not until the barber had converted the doctor's hat into a concertina that the former contrived to make a complete appearance, followed by the doctor, who, in his broad Scotch that betrayed him as M'Turk the Chief Engineer, requested his companion "not to play the fule beforr your time".
Then came the bears—grotesquely garbed fellows recruited mainly from the Chief Steward's department, but with the residue of the engineers off duty to leaven the whole lump. Almost before King Neptune and his Queen were seated upon their respective thrones the zealous bears had scattered to rope in the victims of the revels.
The first to be brought into the arena was Watcher Partridge. His opposite number, scenting trouble, had deserted him, and was making his way to the stokehold, hotly pursued by a couple of brawny bears.
Partridge submitted sullenly. Without a word or act of protest he was led before the doctor.
"Are ye no' weel, laddie?" inquired the doctor. "Open your mouth and show your tongue."
The bird obeyed.
The next instant he was spluttering and coughing, for the doctor had dexterously placed a pill, composed of the unholiest ingredients of the engineers' stores, in the wide-open cavity. Still spluttering, he was again seized by the attendant bears, blindfolded, and forced into the barber's chair.
The barber eyed the agitated Partridge dispassionately.
"Hair cut or shave?" he inquired, and, receiving no reply, he seized one of his razors, a formidable-looking instrument fashioned out of a barrel stave.
A few deft strokes and the deed was done. Partridge, released from the chair, sprang to his feet amidst the delighted howls of the spectators. One side of his face was streaked with Stockholm tar, the other with red ochre.