Moore records the tale. All the fish were summoned to choose a king. The herring was elected, and all the fish came to pay homage — all except the fluke, who arrived late. When the fluke heard that the herring had been made king of the sea, he twisted his mouth to one side and said "The Herring, king of the sea!" — and his mouth has been on one side ever since.

The story connects directly to one of the most distinctive oaths in Manx law. The Deemsters, in their oath of office, swore to execute the laws of the Isle "as indifferently as the herring's backbone doth lie in the midst of the fish." The herring's backbone runs perfectly straight through the centre of the fish — and so the Deemster must hold the balance of justice, favouring neither side. The same fish that ruled the sea by election governed the courtroom by metaphor.

The oath is ancient. The six days of creation are invoked, and the herring backbone is the standard of impartiality. The tale and the oath belong together: the herring earned its kingship by consent, and the Deemster earned his authority by the same principle. Both systems — the fish and the court — worked because they held the centre.