Some of our men had never been over before, and one of the boat's crew confessed. He was quickly seized and brought before King Neptune.
"Sit ye down, right there in that there cheer," said the king, scowling fiercely.
The fellow sat down and stared, smiling at the monster.
"Have ye paid fer comin' acrost this here latitood, me son?" asked the king.
"No," said the sailor.
"No, what?" roared the king.
The chair was placed on the edge of the main kettle and the monster simply raised his hand to one of his retainers. This fellow tilted it up, sailor and all, into the smother of suds and water. Instantly there were roars of laughter, as all hands watched the man trying to get clear of the slippery iron tank. Every time he would get a hold, his fingers would be rapped sharply, and down he would go, floundering about. He was finally let off with a fine of a plug of tobacco, all his belongings save the clothes he had with him.
Other men followed, for the whaler had a crew of thirty-five. Some were shaved with a barrel hoop for a razor, and tar for lather, being finally released for some tobacco.
"Come aft, O king," bawled Henry, after the fun had grown fast and furious. "Come aft, and get a donation from the ladies."
The great fellow was escorted unsteadily to the poop, where he saluted the women.