On July 15 (lat. 0 deg. 40’ N., long. 21 deg. 56’ W.) we crossed the Line with all pomp and ceremony.  At 1.15 P.M.  Neptune in the person of Seaman Evans hailed and stopped the ship.  He came on board with his motley company, who solemnly paced aft to the break of the poop, where he was met by Lieutenant Evans.  His wife (Browning), a doctor (Paton), barber (Cheetham), two policemen and four bears, of whom Atkinson and Oates were two, grouped themselves round him while the barrister (Abbott) read an address to the captain, and then the procession moved round to the bath, a sail full of water slung in the break of the poop on the starboard side.

Nelson was the first victim.  He was examined, then overhauled by the doctor, given a pill and a dose, and handed over to the barber, who lathered him with a black mixture consisting of soot, flour and water, was shaved by Cheetham with a great wooden razor, and then the policemen tipped him backwards into the bath where the bears were waiting.  As he was being pushed in he seized the barber and took him with him.

Wright, Lillie, Simpson and Levick followed, with about six of the crew.  Finally Gran, the Norwegian, was caught as an extra—­never having been across the Line in a British ship.  But he threw the pill-distributing doctor over his head into the bath, after which he was lathered very gingerly, and Cheetham having been in once, refused to shave him at all, so they tipped him in and wished they had never caught him.

The procession re-formed, and Neptune presented certificates to those who had been initiated.  The proceedings closed with a sing-song in the evening.

These sing-songs were of very frequent occurrence.  The expedition was very fond of singing, though there was hardly anybody in it who could sing.  The usual custom at this time was that every one had to contribute a song in turn all round the table after supper.  If he could not sing he had to compose a limerick.  If he could not compose a limerick he had to contribute a fine towards the wine fund, which was to make some much-discussed purchases when we reached Cape Town.  At other times we played the most childish games—­there was one called ’The Priest of the Parish has lost his Cap,’ over which we laughed till we cried, and much money was added to the wine fund.

As always happens, certain songs became conspicuous for a time.  One of these I am sure that Campbell, who was always at work and upon whom the routine of the ship depended, will never forget.  I do not know who it was that started singing

    “Everybody works but Father,
    That poor old man,”

but Campbell, who was the only father on board and whose hair was popularly supposed to be getting thin on the top of his head, may remember.

We began to make preparations for a run ashore—­a real adventure on an uninhabited and unknown island.  The sailing track of ships from England round the Cape of Good Hope lies out towards the coast of Brazil, and not far from the mysterious island of South Trinidad, 680 miles east of Brazil, in 20 deg. 30’ S. and 29 deg. 30’ W.