Our lunch consisted of cold fowl and ham and champagne; good enough meat and drink, one should say, for the sea, and almost good enough, one might add, for a pair of love-sick fugitives.
"How is your appetite, my darling?" said I.
"I think I can eat a little of that cold chicken."
"This is very handsome treatment, Grace. Upon my word, if the captain preserves this sort of behaviour, I do not believe we shall be in a great hurry to quit his ship."
"Is not she a noble vessel?" exclaimed Grace, rolling her eyes over the saloon. "After the poor littleSpitfire'scabin! And how different is this motion! It soothes me after the horrid tumbling of the last two days."
"This is a very extraordinary adventure," said I, eating and drinking with a relish and an appetite not a little heightened by observing that Grace was making a very good meal. "It may not end so soon as we hope, either. First of all, we have to fall in with a homeward-bound ship; then she has to receive us; then she has to arrive in the Channel and transfer us to a tug or a smack, or anything else which may be willing to put us ashore; and there is always the chance of hernotfalling in with such a craft as we want, until she is as high as the Forelands—past Boulogne, in short! But no matter, my own. We are together, and that is everything."
She took a sip of the champagne that the steward had filled her glass with, and said in a musing voice, "What will the people in this ship think of me?"
"What they may think need not trouble us," said I. "I told Captain Parsons that we were engaged to be married. Is there anything very extraordinary in a young fellow taking the girl he is engaged to out for a sail in his yacht, and being blown away, and nearly wrecked by a heavy gale of wind?"
"Oh, but they will know better," she exclaimed, with a pout.
"Well, I forgot, it is true, that I told the captain we sailed from Boulogne. But how is he to know your people don't live there?"
"It will soon be whispered about that I have eloped with you, Herbert," she exclaimed.
"Who's to know the truth if it isn't divulged, my pet?" said I.
"But it is divulged," she answered.
I stared at her. She eyed me wistfully as she continued: "I told Mrs. Barstow the story. I am not ashamed of my conduct, and I ought not to feel ashamed of the truth being known."
There was logic and heroism in this closing sentence, though it did not strictly correspond with the expression she had just now let fall as to what the people would think. I surveyed her silently, and after a little exclaimed:
"You are in the right. Let the truth be known. I shall give the skipper the whole yarn that there may be no misunderstanding, for after all we may have to stick to this ship for some days, and it would be very unpleasant to find ourselves misjudged."
I gazed, as I spoke, through the windows of the saloon or cuddy front, which overlooked the main-deck, where a number of steerage passengers were standing in groups. The ship was before the wind; the great main-course was hauled up to its yard, and I could see to as far as the forecastle, with a fragment of bowsprit showing under the white arch of the foresail; some sailors in coloured apparel were hauling upon a rope hard by the foremast; a gleam of misty sunshine was pouring full upon this window-framed picture, and crowded it with rich oceanic tints softened by the ruled and swaying shadows of the rigging. An extraordinary thought flashed into my head.
"By Jove! Grace, I wonder if there's a parson on board?"
"Why do you wonder?"
"If there is a parson on board he might be able to marry us."
She coloured, smiled, and looked grave all in a breath.
"A ship is not a church," said she, almost demurely.
"No," I answered, "but a parson's a parson wherever he is—he carries with him the same appetite, the same clothes, the same powers, no matter whither his steps conduct him."
She shook her head smiling, but her blush had faded, nor could her smile disguise a look of alarm in her eyes.
"My darling," said I, "surely if there should be a clergyman on board, you will not object to his marrying us? It would end all our troubles, anxieties, misgivings—thrust Lady Amelia out of the question altogether, save us from a tedious spell of waiting ashore."
"But the objections which hold good on shore hold good here," said she, with her face averted.
"No, I can't see it," said I, talking so noisily out of the enthusiasm the notion had raised in me that she looked round to say "Hush!" and then turned her head again. "There must be a difference," said I, sobering my voice, "between the marriage ceremony as performed on sea and on shore. The burial service is different, and you will find the other is so too. There is too much horizon at sea, too much distance to talk of consent. Guardians and patents are too far off. As to banns—who's going to say 'no' on board a vessel?"
"I cannot imagine that it would be a proper wedding," said she, shaking her head.
"Do you mean in the sense of its being valid, my sweet?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"But you don't see that a parson's a parson everywhere. Whom God hath joined—"
The steward entered the saloon at that moment. I called to him and said politely, "Have you many passengers, steward?"
"Ay, sir, too many," he answered. "The steerage is pretty nigh chock-ablock."
"Saloon passengers, I mean?"
"Every berth's hoccupied, sir."
"What sort of people are they, do you know? Any swells amongst them?"
"That, depends how they're viewed," he answered, with a cautious look round and a slow smile; "if by themselves, they're all swells; if by others—why!"
"I thought perhaps that you might have had something in the Colonial bishopric way."
"No, sir, there's nothen in that way aboard. Plenty as needs it I dessay. The language of some of them steerage chaps is something to turn the black hairs of a monkey white. Talk of the vulgarity of sailors!"
The glances of this steward were dry and shrewd, and his smile slow and knowing; I chose therefore to ask him no more questions. But then, substantially, he had told me what I wanted to gather, and secretly I felt as much mortified and disappointed as though for days past I had been thinking of nothing else than finding a parson on board ship at sea and being married to Grace by him.
A little later on Mrs. Barstow came into the saloon and asked Grace to accompany her on deck. My sweetheart put on her hat and jacket, and the three of us went on to the poop. My first look was for a ship, and I spied off the starboard bow a square of orange-coloured canvas; but the vessel was going our way and was, therefore, of no use to us. The ocean swept in a blank circle to that solitary point of sun-coloured sail; but it was fine weather at last; whilst we were seated at lunch the breeze had freshened and the sky cleared; the swell left by the gale had sensibly flattened within the past hour, and the sea was trembling and filled with the life of crisp green wrinkles running over the light folds which flowed pleasantly out of the north; the mistiness was gone from the sunshine; the light was brilliant and warm and coloured the atmosphere with a delicate tinge of yellow, though the luminary was yet high in the heavens. The clouds hung in rolls of cream-like vapour, making the noblest and most stately prospect of the sky that could be imagined as they moved slowly over our mastheads in the direction in which we steered.
I had never been aboard a full-rigged ship before—that is to say, at sea, and under canvas—and on quitting the companion-way I stood for some moments heedless of all things in my admiration of the beautiful, in truth, I may say the royal, picture I witnessed. From deck to truck rose three spires of canvas, sail upon sail of a milky softness swelling one above another. The planks of the poop deck were as white as holystoning could make them, with a glitter as of dried salt everywhere, and the shadows of the people and of the rigging, swaying with the heave of the fabric, lay like sketches wrought in pale violet ink. There was a frequent flash of glass; there were star-like glories in polished brass; and there was an odd farmyard smell of hay in the air, with the bleating of sheep forward and a noise of cocks and hens.
"A voyage in such a ship as this, Mrs. Barstow," said I, "should make the most delightful trip of a person's life."
"It is better than yachting," said Grace softly.
"A voyage soon grows tiresome," remarked Mrs. Barstow. "Miss Bellassys, I trust you will share my cabin whilst you remain with us."
"You are exceedingly kind," said Grace.
Others of the passengers now approached, and I observed a general effort of kindness and politeness. The ladies gathered about Grace, and the gentlemen about me, and the time slipped by, whilst I related my adventures and listened to their experiences of the weather in the Channel, and such matters. It was strange, however, to feel that every hour that passed was widening our distance from home. I never for an instant regretted my determination to quit the yacht. Yet, even at this early time of our being aboard theCarthusian, I was disquieted by a sense of mild dismay when I ran my eye over the ship, and marked her sliding and curtseying steadily forwards to the impulse of her wide and gleaming pinions, and reflected that this sort of thing might go on for days, and perhaps for weeks; that we might arrive at the Equator, perhaps, at the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope without meeting with a vessel to serve our turn. All the wardrobe that Grace and I possessed, we stood in. Small conveniences we should be easily able to borrow, but what on earth were we to do without a change of dress or linen? A voyage half-way round the world was indeed a new and quite unconsidered detail of our elopement. From Boulogne to Mount's Bay was, I had often thought, whilst making my plans, too far by several leagues of water. But what, if in defiance of the keenest look-out for ships, we should be carried to New Zealand? Could we get married there? Did the Colonials impose the restrictions of the old home upon the nuptials of a couple? Should we have to wait for Aunt Amelia's sanction? How long would it take for her ladyship to receive a letter from, say Otaga, and for us to get her reply?
Well, in talking, and in thinking, and in walking, and in looking, that first afternoon passed, and at half-past five o'clock we went to dinner. I had had a short chat with Captain Parsons, and from him had learnt that there was no parson on board, though I flattered myself that I had put the question in such a way as not to excite in his brine-seasoned mind the faintest suspicion of the meaning of my curiosity. I had also given him to understand that I was a young gentleman of substance, and begged him to believe that any cost Grace and I might put the ship to should be repaid with interest to her owners.
This enabled me to take my seat at the table with an easy conscience, for though there can be no doubt as to the humanity and hospitality of the British shipmaster, the British ship-owner, on the other hand, I have always heard spoken of as a person eminent for thrift and economy, as is made manifest by the slenderness of the crew he ships, the unsavoriness of the provisions he supplies them with, and the very small wages he gives to his captains and mates.
It was impossible for me to find myself seated with Grace at my side at that cheerful, hospitable, sparkling, sea dinner-table, without acutely realising the difference betwixt this time and yesterday. Some ten or twelve persons sat down, but there was room for another dozen, which I believe about completed the number of saloon passengers theCarthusiancarried. Captain Parsons, with a countenance varnished as from the recent employment of soap, was at the head of the table with Mrs. Barstow on his right, and I observed that they frequently conversed whilst they often directed their eyes at Grace and me. The setting sun shone upon the skylight, and gleamed in ruby prisms and crystals in the glass about the table. It was a warm and cheerful picture; the forward windows in the saloon framed a part of the ship—a glimpse of curved white canvas, a fragment of the galley and the long-coat, the steps leading to the forecastle, coils of gear swinging upon pins; the soft blue afternoon sky of the fine weather that had come at last shone betwixt the squares of the rattlines and floated in a tender liquid atmosphere under the arch of the sails; you could see a number of the steerage passengers pacing the main-deck, smoking and arguing; a gentleshalingnoise of waters broken by the passage of the vessel seethed in the ear like a light, passing attack of deafness in the intervals of silence at the table.
The chief officer, the Scotch-faced man I have before written of, sat at the foot of the table, slowly and soberly eating.
"It would be strange, sir," said I, addressing him, "if we do not hereabout speedily fall in with something homeward bound."
"I would, sir," he answered, with a broad Scotch accent.
"Yet not so strange, Mr. M'Cosh," said a passenger, sitting opposite to me, "if you come to consider how wide the sea is here."
"Well, perhaps not so strange either," said Mr. M'Cosh, in his sawdusty voice, with his mouth full.
"Should you pass a steamer at night," said I, "would you stop and hail her?"
He reflected, and then said, he "thocht not."
"Then our opportunities for getting home must be limited to daylight?" said I.
This seemed too obvious to him, I suppose, to need a response.
"Are you in a very great hurry, Mr. Barclay, to get home?" exclaimed a passenger, with a slight cast in his eye that gave a turn of humour to his face.
"Why, yes," I answered, with a glance at Grace, who was eating quietly at my side, seldom looking up, though she was as much stared at, even after all these hours, as decent manners would permit. "You will please remember that we are without luggage."
"Eh, but that is to be managed, I think. There are many of us here of both sexes," continued the gentleman with the cast in his eye, sending a squint along the row of people on either side of the table. "You should see New Zealand, sir. The country abounds with fine and noble prospects, and I do not think," he added, with a smile, "that you will find occasion to complain of a want of hospitality."
"I am greatly obliged," said I, giving him a bow; "but New Zealand is a little distant for the moment."
The subject of New Zealand was now, however, started, and the conversation on its harbours, revenue, political parties, debts, prospects, and the like, was exceedingly animated, and lasted pretty nearly through the dinner. Though Grace and I were seated at the foremost end of the table, removed nearly by the whole length of it from the captain, I was sensible that this talk to those near him mainly concerned us. He had, as I have said, Mrs. Barstow on one hand, and on the other sat the lady with the thin lips and sausage curls. I would notice him turn first to one, then to the other, his round sea-coloured face broadened by an arch knowing smile; then Mrs. Barstow would look at us; then the lady with the thin lips would stretch her neck to take a peep down the line in which we sat; others would also look, smirk a bit, and address themselves, with amused faces, in a low voice to Captain Parsons.
All this was not so marked as to be offensive, or even embarrassing, but it was a very noticeable thing, and I whispered to Grace that we seemed to form the sole theme of conversation at the captain's end.
"What can they be talking about?" said I. "I hope they are not plotting to carry us to New Zealand."
"You would not permit it!" she exclaimed, giving me an eager, alarmed look.
"No," said I, "it is too far off. Were it Madeira now—it may come to Madeira yet; but the pity of it is, my sweet," said I, low in her ear, "we are not married, otherwise we might call this trip our honeymoon, and make a really big thing of it by going the whole way to New Zealand."
She coloured and was silent, afraid, I think, of my being overheard, for my spirits were now as good as they were yesterday wretched, and whenever I felt happy I had a trick of talking rather loud.
When dinner was over we went on deck. Mrs. Barstow and the thin-lipped lady carried off Grace for a stroll up and down the planks, and I joined a few of the gentlemen passengers on the quarter-deck to smoke a cigar one of them gave me. There was a fine breeze out of the east, and the ship, with yards nearly square, was sliding and rolling stately along her course at some six or seven miles in the hour. The west was flushed with red, but a few stars were trembling in the airy dimness of the evening blue over the stern, and in the south was the young moon, a pale curl, but gathering from the clearness of the atmosphere a promise of radiance enough later on to touch the sea with silver under it and fling a gleam of her own upon our soaring sails.
I had almost finished my cigar—two bells, seven o'clock had not long been struck—when one of the stewards came out of the saloon, and approaching me exclaimed:
"Captain Parson's compliments, sir, and he'll be glad to see you in his cabin if you can spare him a few minutes."
"With pleasure," I answered, flinging the end of my cigar overboard, instantly concluding that he wished to see me privately to arrange about terms and accommodation whilst Grace and I remained with him.
I followed the man into the saloon and was led right aft where stood two large cabins. On entering I found Captain Parsons sitting at a table covered with nautical instruments, books, writing materials and so forth. A lighted bracket lamp near the door illuminated the interior, and gave me a good view of the hearty little fellow, and his sea-furniture of cot, locker, chest of drawers, and wearing apparel that slided to and fro upon the bulkhead as it dangled from pegs. His air was as grave, and his countenance as full of importance as such features as his were capable of expressing. Having asked me to take a seat, he surveyed me thoughtfully for some moments in silence.
"Young gentleman," said he at last, "before we man the windlass I have to beg you'll not take amiss any questions I may put. Whatever I ask won't be out of curiosity. I believe I can see my way to doing you and your pretty young lady a very considerable service: but I shall first want all the truth you may think proper to give me."
I heard him with some astonishment. What could he mean? What service had he in contemplation?
"The truth of what, Captain Parsons?" said I.
"Well, now, your relations with Miss Bellassys—it's an elopement, I believe?"
"That is so," I answered, hardly knowing whether to laugh or to feel vexed.
"Though the young lady," he continued, "is not one of my passengers in the sense that the rest of 'em are, she is aboard my ship, and as though by the Divine ordering, committed to my care, as are you and every man Jack of the two hundred and four souls who are sailing with me. Of course you know that we shipmasters have very great powers."
I merely inclined my head, wondering what he was driving at.
"A shipmaster," he proceeded, "is lord paramount, quite the cock of his own walk, and nothing must crow where he is. He is responsible for the safety and comfort, for the well-being, moral, spiritual, and physical, of every creature aboard his ship; no matter the circumstances under which that creature came aboard, whether by paying cabin money, by shipwreck, or by signing articles. Miss Bellassys has come into my hands, and it is my duty, as master of this ship, to see that she's done right by."
The conflict of twenty emotions rendered me quite incapable to do anything more than stare at him.
"Now, Mr. Barclay," he continued, crossing his bow legs, and wagging a little stunted forefinger in a kindly, admonishing way, "don't be affronted by this preface, and don't be affronted by what I'm going to ask, for if all be plain sailing, I shall be able to do you and the young lady a real A1, copper-fastened service."
"Pray ask any questions you wish, captain," said I.
"This is an elopement, you say?"
"It is."
"Where from?"
"Boulogne-sur-Mer."
"Bullong-sewer-mare," he repeated. "Was the young lady at school?"
"She was."
"What might be her age, now?"
"She will be eighteen next so-and-so," said I, giving him the month.
He suddenly jumped up, and I could not imagine what he meant to do, till pulling open a drawer, he took out a large box of cigars which he placed upon the table.
"Pray, light up, Mr. Barclay," said he, looking to see if the window of his port-hole was open. "They are genuine Havannah cigars." He lighted one himself and proceeded. "What necessity was there for this elopement?"
"Miss Bellassys is an orphan," I answered, still so much astonished that I found myself almost mechanically answering him as though I were in a witness-box, and he was Mr. Justice Parsons in a wig instead of an old, bow-legged, pimple-nosed, merchant skipper. "Her father was Colonel Bellassys, who died some years ago in India. On her mother's death she was taken charge of by her aunt, Lady Amelia Roscoe. Lady Amelia's husband was a gentleman named Withycombe Roscoe, whose estate in Kent adjoined my father's, Sir Herbert Barclay, the engineer."
"D'ye mean the gentleman who built the L—— docks?"
"Yes."
"Oh, indeed!" cried he, looking somewhat impressed. "And howisyour father, Mr. Barclay?"
"He died about two years and a half ago," I replied. "But you have asked me for the truth of this elopement, Captain Parsons. There were constant quarrels between my father and Mr. Withycombe Roscoe over a hedge, or wall, or ditch—some matter contemptibly insignificant, but if the value of the few rods or perches of ground had been represented by the National Debt, there could not have been hotter blood, more ill-feeling between them. Litigation was incessant, and I am sorry to say that it still continues, though I should be glad to end it."
"Sort of entailed lawsuit, I suppose?" said the captain, smoking with enjoyment, and listening with interest and respect.
"Just so," said I, finding now a degree of happiness in this candour; it was a kind of easing of my conscience to tell this man my story, absolute stranger as he had been to me but a few hours before. "Mr. Roscoe died, and Lady Amelia took a house in London. I met her niece at the house of a friend, and fell in love with her."
"So I should think," exclaimed Captain Parsons, "never saw a sweeter young lady in all my time."
"Well, to cut short this part of the story—when her ladyship learnt that her niece was in love, and discovered who her sweetheart was—this occupied a few months I may tell you—she packed the girl off to Boulogne, to a Mademoiselle Championet, who keeps a sort of school at that place, though Grace was sent there professedly to learn French. This mademoiselle is some sort of poor connection of Lady Amelia, a bigotted Catholic, as her ladyship is, and it soon grew clear to my mind, from letters I received from Miss Bellassys—despatched in the old romantic fashion—"
"What fashion's that?" called out the captain.
"The bribed housemaid, sir. It soon grew clear to my mind, I say, that Lady Amelia's main object in sending the girl to Mademoiselle Championet was to get her converted."
"Bad! bad!" cried Captain Parsons.
"Her letters," I continued, growing hot as I spoke, "were all about Mademoiselle Championet's devices and mean dodges—how Miss Bellassys was taken to mass—how she was allowed to read nothing but Catholic books—how she was left alone with a priest—"
"A d——d shame!" whipped out the captain. "And such a sweet young English woman too!"
"Do you need to hear more?" said I, smiling. "I love the girl and she loves me; she was an orphan, and I did not consider the aunt a right and proper guardian for her; she consented to elope, and we did elope, and here we are, captain."
"And you were bound to Penzance, I understand?"
"Yes."
"Why Penzance?"
"To get married at a church in that district."
"Who was going to marry ye?"
"A cousin of mine, the Reverend Frank Howe, of course, after we had fulfilled the confounded legal conditions which obstruct young people like ourselves in England."
"And what are the legal conditions? It's so long since I was married that I forget 'em," said the captain.
"Residence, as it is called; then the consent of her ladyship, as Miss Bellassys is under age."
"But she isn't going to consent, is she?"
"How can she refuse after our association in the yacht—and here?"
It took him some time to understand; he then shut one eye and said, "I see."
We pulled at our cigars in silence as we gazed at each other. The evening had blackened into night; a silver star or two slided in the open port through which came the washing noise of the water as it swept eddying and seething past the bends into the wake of the ship; now and again the rudder jarred harshly and there was a monstrous tread of feet overhead. We were at the extreme after end of the vessel, where the heave of her would be most sensibly felt, and she was still curtseying with some briskness, but I scarcely heeded the motion, so effectually had the mad behaviour of theSpitfirecured me of all tendency to nausea.
"And now, Mr. Barclay," exclaimed the captain, after a silence of a minute or two, "I'll explain why I have made so free as to ask you for your story. It's the opinion of Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore, that Miss Bellassys and you ought to be married right away off. It's a duty that's owing to the young lady. You can see it for yourself, sir. Her situation, young gentleman," he added with emphasis, "is not what it ought to be."
"I agree in every word," I exclaimed, "but—"
He interrupted me: "Her dignity is yours, her reputation is yours. And the sooner you're married the better."
I was about to speak, but despite my pronouncing several words he proceeded obstinately:
"Mrs. Barstow is one of the best natured women in the world. There never was a more practical lady; sees a thing in a minute; and you may believe in her advice as you would in the fathom marks on a headline. Miss Moggadore, the young lady that sat on my left at table—did you notice her, Mr. Barclay?"
"A middle-aged lady, with curls?"
"Eight and thirty. Ain't that young enough? Ay, Miss Moggadore has two curls, and let me tell you that her nose heads the right way. Miss Moggadore wasn't behind the door when brains were served out. Well, she and Mrs. Barstow, and your humble servant," he convulsed his short square figure into a sea-bow, "are for having you and Miss Bellassys married straight away off."
"So there is a clergyman on board?" I cried, feeling the blood in my face, and staring eagerly at him.
"No, sir," said he, "there's no clergyman aboard my ship."
"Then," said I, almost sulkily, "what on earth, Captain Parsons, is the good of you and Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore advising Miss Bellassys and me to get married straight away off, as you term it?"
"It ought to be done," said he, with an emphatic nod.
"What, without a parson?" I cried.
"Iam a parson," he exclaimed.
I imagined he intended a stupid pun upon his name.
"Parson enough," he continued, "to do your business.I'llmarry you!"
"You?" I shouted.
"Yes, me," he returned, striking his breast with his fist.
"Pray, where were you ordained?" said I, disgusted with the bad taste of what I regarded as a joke.
"Ordained!" he echoed, "I don't understand you. I'm the master of a British merchantman, and, as such, can and do desire, for Miss Bellassys's sake, to marry ye."
Now, I do not know how, when or where I had stumbled upon the fact, but all on a sudden it came into my head that it was as Captain Parsons said: namely, that the master of a British merchantman was empowered, whether by statute, by precedent, or by recognition of the laws of necessity, to celebrate the marriage service on board his own ship at sea. I may have read it in the corner of a newspaper—in some column of answers to correspondents—as likely as not in a work of fiction; but the mere fact of having heard of it, persuaded me that Captain Parsons was in earnest; and very much indeed did he look in earnest as he surveyed me with an expression of triumph in his little eyes, whilst I hung in the wind, swiftly thinking.
"But am I to understand," said I, fetching a breath, "that a marriage at sea, with nobody but the captain of the ship to officiate, is legal?"
"Certainly," he cried, "let me splice you to Miss Bellassys, and there's nothing mortal outside the Divorce Court that can sunder you. How many couples do you think I've married in my time?"
"I cannot imagine."
"Six," he cried, "and they're all doing well, too."
"But I suppose they were all formally married afterwards?"
"No, sir," said he, misunderstanding me, "they were not formerly married. They came to me as you and the young lady will, single folks."
"Have you a special marriage service at sea?"
"The same, word for word, as you have it in the Prayer Book."
"And when it is read—?" said I, pausing.
"I enter the circumstance in the official logbook, duly witnessed, and then there you are, much more married than it would delight you to feel if afterwards you should find out you've made a mistake."
My heart beat fast. Though I never dreamt for an instant of accepting this shipper's offices seriously, yet if the ceremony he performed should be legal it would be a trump card in my hand for any game I might hereafter have to play with Lady Amelia.
"But how," said I, "are you to get over the objections to my marriage?"
"What objections? The only objection I see is your not being married already."
"Why," said I, "residence or licence."
He flourished his hand: "You're both aboard my ship, aren't ye? That's residence enough for me. As to licence—there's no such thing at sea. Suppose a couple wanted to get married in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; where's the licence to come from?"
"But how about the consent of the guardian?"
"The lawful guardian isn't here," he answered, "the lawful guardian's leagues astern. No use talking of guardians aboard ship. The young lady being in this ship constitutes me her guardian, and it's enough for you thatIgive my consent."
His air, as he pronounced these words, induced such a fit of laughter, that for several moments I was unable to speak. He appeared to heartily enjoy my merriment, and sat watching me with the broadest of grins.
"I'm glad you take to the notion kindly," said he. "I was afraid, with Mrs. Barstow, that you'd create a difficulty."
"I! Indeed, Captain Parsons, I have nothing in the world else to do, nothing in the world else to think of but to get married. But how about Miss Bellassys?" I added, with a shake of the head. "What will she have to say to a shipboard wedding?"
"You leave her to Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore," said he with a nod; "besides, it's for her to be anxious to get married. Make no mistake, young man. Until she becomes Mrs. Barclay, her situation is by no means what it ought to be."
"But is it the fact, captain," I exclaimed, visited by a new emotion of surprise and incredulity, "that a marriage, celebrated at sea by the captain of a ship, is legal?"
Instead of answering, he counted upon his fingers.
"Three and one are four, and two are six, and two's eight, and three's eleven, and four again's fifteen." He paused, looking up at me, and exclaimed with as much solemnity as he could impart to his briny voice, "If it isn't legal, all I can say is, God help fifteen of as fine a set of children as ever a man could wish to clap eyes on—not counting the twelve parents, that I married. But since you seem to doubt—I wish I had the official log-books containing the entries—tell ye what I'll do!" he exclaimed, and jumped up. "Do you know Mr. Higginson?"
"A passenger, I presume?"
"Ay, one of the shrewdest lawyers in New Zealand. I'll send for him, and you shall hear what he says."
But on putting his head out to call for the steward, he saw Mr. Higginson sitting at the saloon table reading. Some whispering followed, and they both arrived, the captain carefully shutting the door behind him. Mr. Higginson was a tall, middle-aged man, with a face that certainly looked intellectual enough to inspire one with some degree of confidence in anything he might deliver. He put on a pair of pince-nez glasses, bowed to me, and took a chair. The captain began awkwardly, abruptly, and in a rumbling voice.
"Mr. Higginson, I'll tell you in half-a-dozen words how the case stands. No need for mystery. Mr. Barclay's out on an eloping tour. He don't mind my saying so, for we want nothing but the truth aboard theCarthusian. He's run away with that sweet young lady we took off his yacht, and is anxious to get married, and Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore don't at all relish the situation the young lady's put herself in, and they're for marrying her as quickly as the job can be done."
Mr. Higginson nursed his knee and smiled at the deck with a look of embarrassment though he had been attending to the skipper's words with lawyer-like gravity down to that moment.
"You see," continued Captain Parsons, "that the young lady being aboard my ship puts her under my care."
"Just so," said Mr. Higginson.
"Therefore I'm her guardian, and it's my duty to look after her."
"Just so," murmured Mr. Higginson.
"Now, I suppose you're aware, sir," continued the captain, "that the master of a British merchantman is fully empowered to marry any couple aboard his ship?"
"Empowered by what?" asked Mr. Higginson.
"He has the right to do it, sir," answered the captain.
"It is a subject," exclaimed Mr. Higginson nervously, "upon which I am hardly qualified to give an opinion."
"Is a shipboard marriage legal, or is it not legal?" demanded the captain.
"I cannot answer as to the legality," answered the lawyer, "but I believe there are several instances on record of marriages having taken place at sea; and I should say," he added slowly and cautiously, "that in the event of their legality ever being tested, no court would be found willing, on the merits of the contracts as marriages, to set them aside."
"There ye have it, Mr. Barclay," cried the captain with a triumphant swing round in his chair.
"In the case of a marriage at sea," continued Mr. Higginson looking at me, "I should certainly counsel the parties not to depend upon the validity of their union, but to make haste to confirm it by a second marriage on their arrival at port."
"Needless expense and trouble," whipped out the captain; "there's the official log-book. What more's wanted?"
"But is there no form required—no licence necessary?" I exclaimed, addressing Mr. Higginson.
"Hardly at sea, I should say," he answered, smiling.
"My argument!" shouted the captain.
"But the young lady is under age," I continued; "she is an orphan, and her aunt is her guardian. How about that aunt's consent, sir?"
"How can it be obtained?" exclaimed the lawyer.
"My argument again!" roared the captain.
"No doubt," exclaimed Mr. Higginson, "as the young lady is under age, the marriage could be rendered by the action of her guardian null and void. But would the guardian in this case take such a step? Would she not rather desire that this union at sea should be confirmed by a wedding on shore?"
"You exactly express my hope," said I; "but before we decide, Captain Parsons, let me first of all talk the matter over with Miss Bellassys."
"All right, sir," he answered, "but don't lose sight of this: that, whilst the young lady's aboard my ship, I'm her natural guardian and protector; the law holds me accountable for her safety and well-being, and what I say is, she ought to be married. I've explained why; and I say, she ought to bemarried!"
A few minutes later, I quitted the cabin, leaving the captain and Mr. Higginson arguing upon the powers of a commander of a ship, the skipper shouting as I opened the door, "I tell you, Mr. Higginson, that the master of a vessel may not only legally marry a couple, but may legally christen their infants, sir; and then legally bury the lot of them, if they should die."
I found Grace seated at the table between Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore. Mrs. Barstow bestowed a smile upon me, but Miss Moggadore's thin lips did not part, and there was something very austere and acid in the gaze she fastened upon my face. The saloon was now in full blaze, and presented a very fine, sparkling appearance indeed. The motion of the ship was so quiet that the swing of the radiant lamps was hardly noticeable. Some eight or ten of the passengers were scattered about, a couple at chess, another reading, a third leaning back with his eyes fixed on a lamp, and so on. It was of an ebony blackness in the windows overlooking the main deck, though, as the door was opened and shut by the coming and going of stewards, there would enter a low, growling hum of conversation, with the scent of coarse tobacco; and now and again, a noise as of a concertina played forward on the forecastle.
I leaned over the back of my darling's chair, and addressed some commonplaces to her and to the two ladies, intending presently to withdraw her, that I might have a long talk, but after a minute or two Mrs. Barstow rose and went to her cabin, a hint that Miss Moggadore was good enough to take. I seated myself in that lady's chair at Grace's side.
"Well, my pet, and what have they been talking to you about?"
"They have been urging me to marry you to-morrow morning, Herbert," she answered, with a smile that was half a pout and a blush that did not signify so much embarrassment but that she could look at me.
"I am fresh from a long talk with the captain," said I, "and he has been urging me to do the same thing."
"It is ridiculous," said she, holding down her head; "there is no clergyman in the ship."
"But the captain of a vessel may act as a clergyman under the circumstances," said I.
"I don't believe it, Herbert."
"But see here, Grace," said I, speaking earnestly but softly, for there were ears not far distant, "it is not likely that we should regard the captain's celebration of our marriage here as more than something that will strengthen our hands for the struggle with your aunt. Until we have been joined by a clergyman in proper shipshape fashion, as Captain Parsons himself might say, we shall not be man and wife; but then, my darling, consider this: first of all it is in the highest degree probable that a marriage performed on board a ship by her captain is legal. Next, that your aunt would suppose we regarded the union as legal, when of course she would be forced to conclude we considered ourselves man and wife. Would she thendarecome between us? Her consent must be wrung from her by this politic stroke of shipboard wedding that to her mind would be infinitely more significant than our association in the yacht. She will go about and inquire if a shipboard wedding is legal; her lawyers will answer her as best they can, but their advice will be, secure your niece by sending your consent to Penzance, that she may be legitimately married in an English Church by a Church of England clergyman."
She listened thoughtfully, but with an air of childish simplicity that was inexpressibly touching to my love for her.
"It would be merely a ceremony," said she, leaning her cheek on her hand, "to strengthen your appeal to Aunt Amelia?"
"Wholly, my darling."
"Well, dearest," said she gently, "if you wish it—"
I could have taken her to my heart for her ready compliance. I had expected a resolved refusal, and had promised myself some hours that evening and next day of exhortation, entreaty, representation. I was indeed hot on the project, and even as I talked to her I felt my enthusiasm growing. Secretly I had no doubt whatever that Captain Parsons was empowered as master of a British merchantman to marry us, and though, as I had told her, I should consider the ceremony as simply an additional weapon for fighting Aunt Amelia with, yet as a contract it might securely bind us too; we were to be parted only by the action of the aunt; this I felt assured, for the sake of her niece's fame and future and for her own name, her ladyship would never attempt; so that from the moment the captain ended the service, Grace would be my wife to all intents and purposes, which indeed was all we had in view when we glided out of Boulogne harbour in the poor littleSpitfire.
However, though she had sweetly and promptly consented, a great deal remained to talk about. I repeated all that Captain Parsons, and all that Mr. Higginson had said, and when we had exhausted the subject we naturally spoke of our prospects of quitting theCarthusian; and one subject suggesting another, we sat chatting till about nine o'clock, at which hour the stewards arrived with wine and grog and biscuits; whereupon the passengers put away their books and chess boards and gathered about the table, effectually ending ourtête-à-tête. Then Mrs. Barstow arrived, followed by Miss Moggadore. I took the former lady aside, leaving Grace in charge of the acidulated gentlewoman with the curls.
"Miss Bellassys tells me," said I, "that you have warmly counselled her to allow Captain Parsons to marry us. You are very good. You could not do us a greater service than by giving such advice. She has consented, asking only that the ceremony shall be privately performed in the captain's cabin."
"She is very young," replied Mrs. Barstow, "too young I fear to realise her position. I am a mother, Mr. Barclay, and my sympathies are entirely with your charming sweetheart. Under such conditions as we find her in we must all wish to see her married. Were her mother living, I am sure that would be her desire."
"Were her mother living," said I, "there would have been no elopement."
She inclined her head with a cordial gesture.
"Miss Bellassys," said she, "has been very candid. As a mother myself, I must blame her; but as a woman—" she shook her head smiling.
"We are fortunate indeed," I exclaimed, "in falling into the hands of people so sympathetic and upright as yourself, and Captain Parsons. I only wish that I could thoroughly persuade myself that a marriage performed by a shipmaster is legal."
"Oh, I think you may—I am sure you may. But your first step, Mr. Barclay, when you get ashore, must be to get your cousin to re-marry you."
"Undoubtedly," I cried, "nor could I consider Grace my wife until that happened, though I suppose we shall still have to wait—for that second marriage, I mean—for the aunt's consent."
"You need not fear," she exclaimed, "the marriage to-morrow will gain her consent."
We stood apart conversing for some time, and were then interrupted by the head-steward, who came to tell me that by orders of the captain I was to sleep in a berth occupied by one of the passengers, a Mr. Tooth. I went to inspect this berth and was very well pleased to find a clean and comfortable bed prepared. Mr. Tooth accompanied me, and pointing to his razors and hair-brushes, begged me to make use of every thing that he had. He had a great quantity of under-linen he told me, enough to last the pair of us the whole round voyage, and his coats and trousers were entirely at my service, "though," said he, who was a short man, running his eyes over my tall figure with a grin, "I fear my clothes will not allow you to take very much exercise."
I drank a glass of hot whisky and water at the cabin table, and, observing that Grace looked pale and weary, I asked Mrs. Barstow to induce her to go to bed. The darling seemed reluctant to leave me. She looked about her in a sort of child-like, shrinking way, and whispered that she wished to sit with me.
"I am not sleepy, dearest," said she; "why cannot we sit alone together in this saloon, as we did in the cabin of the littleSpitfire? You shall sleep first, and then I will put my head upon your shoulder. It is but for one night, Herbert. We are sure to meet a ship going home to-morrow."
Assuredly would it have given me the most exquisite happiness to sit alone with her, as she wished, pillowing her fair head, and watching her as she slept; but it was not to be thought of, for reasons much too obvious to need reciting, and presently she went with Mrs. Barstow to that lady's cabin, turning to look at me ere the door closed upon her.
I had my pipe and a pouch of tobacco in my pocket, and thought I would go on deck for half-an-hour before retiring to bed. As I passed the table on my way to the companion ladder, Mr. Higginson rose from a book he had been reading, and detained me by putting his hand upon my arm.
"I have been thinking over the matter of marriage at sea, Mr. Barclay," he exclaimed, with a wary look round, to make sure that nobody was listening. "I wish we had a copy of the Merchants' Shipping Act for 1854, for I believe there is a section which provides that every master of a ship carrying an official log-book, shall enter in it every marriage that takes place on board, together with the names and ages of the parties. And I fancy there is another section which provides that every master of every foreign-going ship shall sign and deliver to some mercantile marine authority, a list containing, amongst other things, a statement of every marriage which takes place on board. There is also an Act called, if my memory serves me, the Confirmation of Marriage on her Majesty's Ships' Act. But this, I presume, does not concern what may happen in merchant vessels. I should like to read up Hammick on the Marriage Laws of England. One thing, however, is clear: marriage at sea is contemplated by the Merchant Shipping Acts of 1854. Merchantmen do not carry chaplains; a clergyman in attendance as a passenger was assuredly not in the minds of those who are responsible for the Act. The sections, in my opinion, directly point to the captain as the person to officiate; and, having turned the matter thoroughly over, I don't scruple to pronounce that a marriage solemnised at sea by the master of a British merchantman is as legal and valid as though celebrated on shore in the usual way."
"I am delighted to hear you say so," said I.
"It is a most interesting point," said he. "It ought certainly to be settled."
"Well, speaking for Miss Bellassys and myself," said I, "we intend to settle it to-morrow at the captain's convenience. He's very willing, and most kindly anxious."
"Oh, yes," said he drily, "old Parsons is noted for this sort of thing. I have heard of his having married several couples—passengers of his—in his time. I believe he cuts a very great figure at a burial at sea; but as to his claiming the right of baptising—" he burst into a laugh, and added, "I came to Europe with him last voyage, and he once told me that he had mistaken his vocation: he ought to have entered the church. 'I should have been a bishop by this time,' said he. He has a very clerical look, certainly!"
I laughed out, and went on deck with my spirits in a dance. To think of such a marriage as we contemplated! And to find it in all probability as binding as the shore-going ceremony! Assuredly it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and the gale that had nearly foundered us was to end in returning us to our native shore—a wedded pair!
It was a dark night, despite the young moon in the west and a wide field of stars under which a few high clouds were floating. The wind was almost directly over the stern, and seemed but little more than a quiet fanning, owing to the ship running; but it had weight enough to keep the sails silent, and to fill the ear with the murmur of hurrying waters. The ship loomed phantasmally in the clear dusk, with a regular and stately swaying of her pale heights. All was silent and dark on the main-deck and forward; on the poop glittered a few figures of male passengers with the dark shape of one of the mates pacing the deck athwartships, a stirless shadow of a man at the wheel, and someone near him, with a glowing tip in the middle of his face signifying a lighted cigar. I filled my pipe and stood musing a bit, thinking of Caudel and the others of the little dandy, of the yacht, of the gale we had outlived, and twenty other like matters, when the voice of the captain broke in upon my reverie.
"This will be you, Mr. Barclay? I begin to know you now without candle light by your height."
"Yes, it is I, captain—just stepped on deck for a smoke and a breath of this cool wind before turning in. Do you know, when I view the great dark outline of your ship sweeping through this tremendous space of darkness, and then think of the crowds of people asleep in her heart, I can't but consider the post of commander of a big merchantman, like this vessel, foremost amongst the most responsible under the sun."
"Sir, you are right," exclaimed the little man.
"Realise what is committed to his safe keeping," I went on; "not precious human lives only, but a ship and cargo of value enough to purchase several German principalities. Nor is it one voyage only. You may make twenty in your capacity of commander. Think then of the wealth that will have been entrusted to you in your time, the crowds upon crowds of human beings whose lives were in your hands!"
"Sir, you are right," he repeated, in a voice that was oily with gratification. "Pray what is your age, Mr. Barclay?"
I told him.
"Then, considering your age, all I can say is you talk very sensibly. Let us walk, sir."
We started to measure the planks from the wheel to half-way the length of the poop.
"There is no doubt," said I, "that you, as master of this vessel, are, as you have all along contended, empowered to marry me to Miss Bellassys," and I then gave him the substance of what Mr. Higginson had said to me below.
"I knew that Higginson would see it after thinking a bit," said he. "Of course, I am empowered to marry, on board my ship, any couple that may apply to me. Have you spoken to Miss Bellassys?"
"I have."
"And is she agreeable?"
"Perfectly agreeable."
"Good!" said he with a chuckle. "Now, when shall it be?"
"Oh, it is for you to say, captain."
"Ten o'clock to-morrow morning do?"
"Very well, indeed," I answered, "but it will be quite private, Captain Parsons; it is Miss Bellassys's wish."
"Private? Why private?" he exclaimed, in a voice of disappointment; "a wedding is an interesting sight, and I intended to admit the steerage passengers. I had also seen my way to converting our usual lunch into a sort of wedding breakfast for you, and indeed I don't mind telling you, Mr. Barclay, that I've been amusing myself during the last half-hour in rehearsing several speeches."
"I can assure you, captain," said I, "that I fully appreciate all your goodness. But a public ceremony!—No, a quite private affair in your cabin, if you please."
We measured half the length of the deck in silence, and I almost dreaded to hear him speak. He then said:
"It seems a pity to rob the passengers of an edifying sight. There are several couples in the steerage who ought to be married, and the example I counted upon offering them would be certain to take effect. But of course—if it's the young lady's wish,—by the way, you'll forgive me asking the question: it's quite a matter of form—no rudeness intended—you are sure that your name is Barclay?"
"Quite sure."
"What Barclay?"
"Herbert," said I.
"Herbert Barclay!" said he, "and the young lady's name's genuine too?"
"Perfectly genuine, captain."
"Grace Bellassys!" said he; "it sound a bit theatrical, don't it?"
"It is her name, nevertheless," said I laughing.
"You see, Mr. Barclay, if the names are wrong, the marriage is wrong."
"There'll be nothing wrong in this marriage," said I, "if the rights of it are to be dependent merely upon the genuineness of our names. But now, let me put this question to you: in officiating as you propose, will you not be accepting a certain legal risk?"
"As how?" he exclaimed.
"You will be marrying a young lady who is under age, knowing, as I repeat now, and was bound to tell you at the start, that her guardian objects to the alliance."
"There are no guardians at sea," he said, "in the sense of your young lady's aunt. I'm her guardian whilst she's aboard my ship, and as I said before, so I say again, I give my consent seeing the situation she's put herself in, and understanding that it's my duty to help her out of it."
I swallowed a laugh, and changed the subject by asking him to tell me about the couples he had married, and so in chatting, three-quarters of an hour passed, at the expiration of which time I shook him by the hand and went to bed.
Mr. Tooth tried hard to keep me awake that he might satisfy his curiosity; he had vaguely heard I was to be married next day, and wished for the story of my elopement at first hand. But I was dog tired, and no sooner did my head press the pillows than I answered him with snores.
I slept right through the night, and when I awoke, Mr. Tooth was shaving himself, and the cabin was brilliant with sunshine whitened to a finer glory yet by the broad surface of milk-white froth that was rushing past the ship. There was plainly a noble sailing breeze blowing, and the vessel was lying well down to it, with a sort of humming and tingling throughout the whole body of her. I made haste to shave, fencing with Mr. Tooth's questions, as he plied them out of a mouth that yawned darkly amid the soapsuds with which he had covered his cheeks, and then hastened into the saloon to look for Grace and take her on deck. The good-humoured little stewardess, however, told me she was not yet up, though it wanted but twenty minutes to eight, on which I shot through the companion into the windy splendour of the grandest ocean morning that ever set a man fresh from his bed blinking.
The ship was heeling to it as a yacht might; her yards were braced forward, and the snow at her forefoot soared and blew away in smoke to the sliding irresistible thrust of her sharp metal stem. The sea for leagues and leagues rolled blue, foaming, brilliant; wool-like clouds, lovely with prismatic glitterings in their skirts, as they sailed from the sun, were speeding into the south-east. The whole life of the world seemed to be in that morning—in the joyous sweep of the blue wind, in the frolicsome frothing of each long blue ridge of rolling sea, in the triumphant speeding of the ship sliding buoyant from one soft foam-freckled hollow to another.
I drew a deep breath. Ha! thought I, if it were always like this now, and New Zealand not so distant.
But as I thus thought I sent my eyes to leeward, and the first thing I saw was a large steamer heading in an opposite direction, and undoubtedly going home. Our combined speed was making her look like to be passing at the rate of forty or fifty miles an hour. I started, and stepped up to Mr. M'Cosh, who stood alone at the head of the poop ladder.
"Isn't that vessel going home?" I cried.
He viewed her deliberately as though looking at her for the first time, then said, with his Scotch accent, which I will not attempt to repeat:
"I don't doubt it, sir."
"Then why not signal, Mr. M'Cosh? I may have to wait a long time for another opportunity."
"I thought, sir," said he, looking at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes, "that you were to be married this morning?"
"Oh! well," I exclaimed, seeing that any talk about the steamer would be of no use in the face of the swiftness with which a hull of about three thousand tons was diminishing to the proportions of a wherry; "Captain Parsons is all kindness and will have his way. But marriage or no marriage, Mr. M'Cosh, I hope he will give you and your brother officers instructions to signal the next vessel we pass, for we really want to get home, you know."
As I pronounced these words the square little figure of the captain, crowned with a high hat, brushed as usual the wrong way, rose through the companion hatch. Mr. M'Cosh touched his cap and crossed to the other side of the deck. The captain gave me a friendly nod, and stood awhile to send a number of seawardly, critical glances aloft, and then round the ocean. I approached him and said, pointing to the steamer:
"There's a fine chance lost, captain."
"Lost?" cried he, "you mustn't be in a hurry yet, sir. There's your business to do first, sir."
"True," said I, "but it might help us to get home—in time—if you will instruct the officers under your command to communicate with any vessel sailing to England."
"I told Mr. M'Cosh not to communicate until you were married," he answered. "There'll be no lack of ships homeward bound, sir," and so saying he left me to go to the rail that protected the edge of the poop where he stood surveying the scores of steerage passengers which filled the main-deck, many of them, as they squatted or hung about here and there, eating their breakfasts, which seemed to me to consist of ship's biscuit and little tin pots of black tea.
I saw nothing of Grace till the cabin breakfast was ready; most of the first-class passengers had by this time assembled, some of them who had been sea-sick yesterday issuing from their cabins; and I noticed a general stare of admiration as my darling stepped forth followed by Mrs. Barstow. Her long and comfortable night's rest had returned her bloom to her. How sweet she looked! how engaging the girlish dignity of her posture! how bright her timid eyes as she paused to send a glance round in search of me! I was instantly at her side.
"The ceremony is fixed for ten, I think?" said Mrs. Barstow, and here Miss Moggadore arrived as one who had a right to be with us, not to say of us.
"Yes, ten o'clock," I answered. "But do these people know what is going to happen?"
"Oh, it will certainly have got about. A ship is like a village—the lightest whisper is everywhere echoed."
"No matter, Grace," said I, "let them stare. What isn't kindness must be admiration."
"I am of opinion," said Miss Moggadore, "that the ceremony ought to be public."
"I'd rather not," I answered. "In fact, we both had rather not."
"But so many witnesses!" said Miss Moggadore.
"Shallyoube present?" inquired Mrs. Barstow.
"I hope to receive an invitation," answered Miss Moggadore.
"We shall count upon your being present," exclaimed Grace, sweetly; but the smile with which she spoke quickly faded; she looked grave and nervous, and I found some reproach in the eyes she lifted to my face.
"It seems so unreal—almost impious, Herbert, as though we were acting a sham part in a terribly solemn act," she exclaimed, as we seated ourselves.
"There is no sham in it, my pet. Yonder sits Mr. Higginson, a lawyer, and that man has no doubt whatever that when we are united by the captain we shall be as much man and wife as any clergyman could make us."
"I consent, but only to please you," said she, with something of restlessness in her manner, and I noticed that she ate but little.
"My darling, you know why I wish this marriage performed," I said, speaking softly in her ear, for there were many eyes upon us, and some ladies, who had not before put in an appearance, were seated almost opposite, and constantly directed their gaze at us, whilst they would pass remarks in whispers when they hung their heads over their plates. "It can do no possible harm; it must be my cousin, not Captain Parsons, who makes you my wife. But then, Grace, it may be binding too, requiring nothing more than the sanctification of the union in the regular way, and it may—it will—create a difficulty for your aunt which should go very near to extinguishing her."
She sighed and appeared nervous and depressed; but I was too eager to have my way to choose to notice her manner. It would be a thing of the past in a very little while; we might hope at all events to be on our way home shortly, and I easily foresaw I should never forgive myself after leaving theCarthusianif I suffered Grace to influence me into refusing the captain's offer to marry us, odd as the whole business was, and irregular as it might prove, too, for all I could tell.
When breakfast was over, Mrs. Barstow took Grace to her cabin, and there they remained. Miss Moggadore stepped up to me as I was about to go on deck and said:
"It is not yet too late, Mr. Barclay, and I really think it ought to be a public ceremony."
"Sooner than that I would decline it altogether," said I, in no humour at that moment to be teased by the opinions of an acidulated spinster.
"I consider," said she, "that a wedding can never take place in too public a manner. It is proper that the whole world should know that a couple are truly man and wife."
"The whole world," said I, "in the sense of this ship, must know it so far as I am concerned without seeing it."
"Well," said she, with a simper which her mere streak of lip was but little fitted to contrive, "I hope you will have all happiness in your wedded lives."
I bowed, muttering some reply, and passed up the steps, not choosing to linger longer in the face of the people who hung about me with an air of carelessness, but with faces of curiosity.