th a small quantity of provisions; whereas merchantmen
were built of considerable beam and depth to stow a large quantity of
cargo. A Phoenician vessel was able to afford accommodation to 500
emigrants, with provisions for a long voyage, besides her crew, while
her masts were formed of the cedars of Lebanon.
NAUTICAL CUSTOMS DERIVED FROM THE ANCIENTS.
Among the best-known customs of the ocean is the ceremony that takes
place when ships cross the line. That, however, like many others of
olden days, is getting somewhat into disuse. Few of those who have
witnessed it, probably, have suspected that its origin dates as far back
as the times of the Phoenicians. As the ship approaches the imaginary
band which encircles the globe, a gruff voice hails her from alongside,
and demands her name and nation, whence she is from, and whither she is
bound. These questions being answered, she is ordered to heave to, when
no less a person than old father Neptune himself, with his fair wife
Amphitrite, and their attendant Tritons, climb up over the bows, and
take possession of the fore-part of the deck. Neptune generally wears a
crown formed out of a tin saucepan, with a flowing beard, a wig of
oakum, and a robe composed of some gay-coloured petticoat-stuff, stored
up for the occasion, or a piece of canvas, with curious devices painted
on it, while he carries in his band a trident, made out of a harpoon or
a boat-hook. The fair Amphitrite, who is more commonly known on board
as Bill Buntline, the boatswain's mate, is habited, like her lord, in
the gayest of gay attire, with a vast profusion of oakum locks, and bows
of huge proportions, although it must be confessed that she has very
little to boast of in the way of feminine delicacy or personal beauty,
while the Tritons are at all events very odd-looking fish.
The captain, surrounded by his officers, with the passengers behind him,
stands on the poop, and a spirited conversation, not altogether
destitute of humour, generally takes place between him and Neptune--when
the monarch of the main demands that every one on board who has not
before crossed that portion of his watery realm where the ship then
floats, shall be brought before him. None, whatever their rank, are
excused. Those who at once consent to pay tribute are allowed to escape
without undergoing any further ceremony, but those luckless wights who
refuse or have not the wherewithal to pay are instantly seized on by th
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