Those of you who have sailed King Neptune’s watery domain before, either in service to a country, or in the service of a vacation, have doubtlessly heard that Neptune himself often pays a visit to our fair fleet. The King Neptune Ceremony (known more formally as the Ceremony of Crossing The Line) is an initiation that turns foul pollywogs (those who have never crossed the equator) into “trusty” shellbacks (though I know several shellbacks who take far too much pleasure in their work to be considered trusty), by way of varying degrees of humiliation and tribulation. In the case of cruise ships, the ceremony is comical, the script is in verse and the pool is a terrible color by the time the festivities are over.
I’m told that for our fellow sailors of more serious waters (those in the navy etc) are subjected to far more severe trials (I’ve heard tell of the swallowing of live goldfish), but I cannot speak to such things, having never witnessed them myself.
I went through the hazing on my second ship, our very own ‘elegant explorer’, and the only thing I can safely tell you is this: raw egg really does do wonders for your hair. Having left my vile pollywog status behind, when we crossed the equator this time around I was recruited to be a pirate. Pushing, shoving and dragging struggling (I use the word lightly) soon to be shell-backs to their terrible fate.
One by one I watched cold heartedly as my fellow crewmates prostrated themselves before the watery wrath of King Neptune and his tempestuous Mermaid Queen, deaf to their pleas of their innocence and their screams of protest, forced them to lock lips with the ugliest fish you ever saw, and then threw them to their fate at the hands of the medical teams.
Witnessing some other poor soul who was condemned to be last on the list, and therefore had the dregs of every barrel of slime upended on them from head to toe.
When at last the smoke had cleared and the screams (of laughter) had died, we gave three heavy-hearted cheers, and watched as the assorted medical teams (who by now were just as ‘gory’ as their victims), counted to three, and pitched themselves as one into the murky waters of the pool…
And yes, I get paid to do this….