Crossing the line

Crossing the line, what an expression! Conjures up fond memories of sailing days gone by where tradition and style ruled the roost. For the landlubbers, it means crossing of the Equator on a ship. It was an old seagoing tradition and the underlying theme was to initiate all the greenhorns into the God of the sea, Neptune’s Kingdom. This ritual dates back at least 400 years in the western seafaring nations.

The seaman who have already crossed the line are known as Shellbacks (or Sons of Neptune) and the newbies are referred to as Pollywogs. The Pollywogs, have to be initiated into the seagoing life and hence are subject to the ritual indignities and minor physical activities. The inclusion into ‘the mysteries of the deep’ are a right of passage and King Neptune shown the respect. Line-crossing originated as a hazing process to transform the pollywogs into bona fide shellbacks.

King Neptune is sometimes accompanied by his wife Queen Amphitrite – though it is with a wee bit of difficulty to have someone perform the Queen’s role. However, if there were wives on board, referred to as Supernumeraries on the Crew List, it was an easy chore. The silver crowns were placed on the King and Queen’s heads with the King wielding his traditional Trident sceptre.

We, the first time Cadets and some other rookie Officers were an anxious lot. How much of the grease and paint mixture will they smear us with, was haunting everyone. Plus, that deadly concoction of different alcohols well mixed with spices and sauces. Burns the tongue, throat and finally one heaves a sigh of relief as it settles in the stomach. We had lined that with copious amounts of butter at breakfast. And stripped to our underwear and manacled with Manila ropes we were hustled up to the ceremonies.

The venue was at the Swimming pool deck just abaft the funnel. The Chief Engineer, aka ‘ Bada Sahib’ was to do the honours as King Neptune. His throne was positioned next to the funnel from where he would hold his imperious court. He was never the most popular officer and we knew he would take his kicks at giving us a full dose of the sadistic ordeal. However, things took a different turn, which no one could ever imagine.

The Second Officer, who was to be part of the initiation, was starkly marked absent. The various search parties could not locate him. Well, let the ceremony begin.
As we were being smeared with thick dollops of a paint and grease combo, I looked up to see the familiar Second Officer perched on top of the funnel! He held a drum which he carefully aligned with the throne of the enthused King Neptune. At the opportune moment, he tipped the drum over with its abominable used black engine oil pouring over the dumbfounded Master of Ceremonies! That brought about an abrupt end to our torment! The King let forth a volley of colourful sailor’s curses coupled with his own vernacular lingo. And off he went with his brandishing his sceptre like a sword to decapitate the offender!

How it quite ended, we never got to know but were we glad, to get our coveted certificates. I doubt, if any King Neptune, has been subjugated to such a demeaning and humiliating Crossing The Line ceremony.