His majesty always comes aboard with an attendant, and here it was that Pitkin hit upon an original and brilliant idea. He had been humming an old song whose first verse runs:
“’Twas Friday morn when we set sail,
And we were not far from the land
When the captain spied a lovely mermaid
With a comb and a glass in her hand.”
These words ran in his head some time, until he finally exclaimed: “Well, I’ll ‘spy a mermaid,’ too, though she may not be very lovely. Yes, a mermaid shall come aboard this bark to-day with Father Neptune.”
He congratulated himself upon this happy thought and set about carrying it into execution. There was but one woman aboard—his sister—and her assuming the role of mermaid was, of course, not to be thought of. Among the crew was a bright, good-looking fellow, known as Mike—just the man to make an acceptable mermaid. In stature he was somewhat below the medium height, but well proportioned and with rather attractive features. He was much tanned, of course, and his expression was decidedly bolder than is thought pleasing in one of the fair sex; but these were minor difficulties in comparison with the great question, How to obtain suitable clothes? The captain solved this, as he thought, by deciding to ask his sister for the loan of some of her old skirts and waists, but she had buried herself in the store-room before he had time to prefer his request. This was just as well, he concluded, for in her present humor he would have met with a peremptory refusal.
So, having ascertained that Rose was engaged in hauling the steward over the coals for misplacing a case of honey and leaving matches where the rats could get at them, the captain entered his sister’s room. He felt rather guilty, but suitable attire for the mermaid must be had, and he tried to think that “Rosy wouldn’t mind,”—hoping, nevertheless, that the ceremonies would be over before she came on deck.
“What a lot of clothes women have,” he soliloquized, examining the various gowns and other apparel hanging on pegs. His sister’s best garments were laid away in her trunks, and he spent considerable time in trying to choose what seemed to be the least valuable skirt and waist among the lot. He finally selected an old black alpaca for which Rose cared little, and a red dressing jacket for which she cared a great deal—it was the one she slipped on every morning when combing her hair. Just as he was leaving a green veil caught his eye.
“That will make Mike look mysterious,” he thought. He took it, bundled the things up in a newspaper, and Mr. Rivers, the mate, conveyed them forward.
The morning was hot, but a fine breeze tempered the heat and prevented discomfort. The seas chased each other along the vessel’s sides, and occasionally sobbed and gurgled in the lee scuppers as the bark leaned over to port. Just as the man at the wheel struck five bells, two strange figures climbed over the bows and gained the forecastle deck. They were the Old Man of the Seas and his companion.
The royal Neptune’s head was encircled by an elaborate wooden crown, painted green, about which were twined several pieces of sea-weed. His long beard was carefully combed out, and swept down upon his chest with a truly patriarchal air. The principal garment was a long green toga (formerly a piano-cover), which extended from the neck to the heels, and was ornamented with sea-weed stitched on in various fantastic shapes. The arms and feet of the royal personage were entirely bare, and in his right hand he carried a substantial sceptre some five feet in length, having three prongs at the upper end.
Neptune’s companion was a sight to behold. From the crown of her head to her waist, floated a wealth of yellow hair, of which any mermaid might well have been proud. This telling effect had been achieved by unbraiding and combing out several strands of sennit. The dressing-jacket and the alpaca skirt did not seem exactly “the thing” for a sea-nymph, and yet they fitted as well as could have been expected, except that the jacket was too tight across the shoulders. A straw hat covered with sea-weed was perched upon the damsel’s head, and the green veil concealed the fact that she had been freshly shaven. Her feet were encased in a pair of knit slippers. Depending from a belt around her waist were a small cracked hand-glass, a comb, and a flying-fish which had fallen on the deck that morning.