A Marriage at Sea Part 22

"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.

"Shall _you_ be 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 pa.s.s 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 the _Carthusian_ if 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 pa.s.sed 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.

CHAPTER XII

A MARRIAGE AT SEA

Some male pa.s.sengers paced the deck, but the captain was below, probably making sure of any hard words he would have to p.r.o.nounce. I strolled forwards to the break of the p.o.o.p and found the ship a lively scene of emigrants, as I call the steerage folks. There seemed about a hundred of them, many rough fellows in fur caps and shabby clothes, smoking and arguing in coa.r.s.e voices, groups of women talking shrilly, little children running about in the scuppers; and amongst them the Jacks of the vessel came and went. I scarcely received a glance from these people, whence I took it that what was to happen aft had not yet got wind in the 'tweendecks.

Save a leaning shaft of sail far away down upon the horizon to starboard there was nothing in sight, unless it were a faint discolouration as of a steamer's smoke in the pale but clear and windy blue of the junction of sea and sky over the bow. I searched the ocean with some anxiety however, for every hour of this kind of sailing threatened to make a very voyage of our return, and such was my mood just then, that had anything hove in sight, marriage or no marriage, I should have exhorted the captain to transfer us.

Presently I looked at my watch: a quarter to ten. Mr. Tooth strolled up to me.

"All alone, Mr. Barclay? It is a fact, have you noticed, that when a man is about to get married people hold off from him. I can understand this of a corpse--there is a sanct.i.ty in death; but a live young man you know--and only because he's going to get married! By the way, as it is to be a private affair, I suppose there is no chance for _me_?"

"The captain is the host," I answered. "He is to play the father. If he chooses to invite you, by all means be present." As I spoke, the captain came on deck, turning his head about in manifest search of me.

He gravely beckoned with an air of ceremony, and Mr. Tooth and I went up to him. He looked at Mr. Tooth, who immediately said:

"Captain, a wedding at sea is good enough to remember; something for a man to talk about. _Can't_ I be present?" and he dropped his head on one side with an insinuating smile.

"No, sir," answered Captain Parsons, with true sea grace, and putting his hand on my arm he carried me right aft. "The hour's at hand," said he. "Who's to be present, d'ye know? for if it's to be private we don't want a crowd."

"Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore--n.o.body else, I believe."

"Better have a couple of men as witnesses. What d'ye say to Mr.

Higginson?"

"Anybody you please, captain."

"And the second?" said he, tilting his hat and thinking. "M'Cosh?

Yes, I don't think we can do better than M'Cosh. A thoughtful Scotchman with an excellent memory." He pulled out his watch. "Five minutes to ten. Let us go below," and down we went.

The steward was despatched to bring Mr. Higginson and the chief mate, Mr. M'Cosh, to the captain's cabin. The saloon was empty; possibly out of consideration to our feelings the people had gone on deck or withdrawn to their berths.

"Bless me, I had quite forgotten!" cried Captain Parsons, as he entered his cabin. "Have you a wedding ring, Mr. Barclay?"

"Oh, yes," I answered, laughing, and pulling out the purse in which I kept it. "Little use in sailing away with a young lady, Captain Parsons, to get married, unless you carry the ring with you."

"Glad you have it. We can't be too shipshape. But I presume you know," said the little fellow, "that any sort of a ring would do, even a curtain ring. No occasion for the lady to wear what you slip on, though I believe it's expected she should keep it upon her finger till the service is over. Let me see now; there's something else I wanted to say--oh, yes; who's to give the bride away?"

Though I must own to feeling a little nervous, even agitated, yet as he p.r.o.nounced these words I could not look down at his upturned face, with its shining pimple of nose set in the midst of it, and his eyes showing like glowworms half extinguished in their notes, without breaking into a loud laugh, for which I instantly apologised by saying that his speaking of "giving away" recalled to me a very nervous uncle who had to undertake this office, and who, on the minister saying, "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" gasped out, "I do," and instantly fell down in a dead faint.

There was a knock at the door and Mr. Higginson, followed by Mr.

M'Cosh, entered.

"Mr. Higginson," immediately cried the captain, "you will give the bride away."

The lawyer put his hand upon his shirt-front and bowed. I glanced at M'Cosh who had scarcely had time to do more than flourish a hair brush.

He was extraordinarily grave, and turned a very literal eye round about. I asked him if he had ever before taken part in a ceremony of this sort at sea. He reflected and answered, "No, neither at sea nor ash.o.r.e."

"But seeing that you are a witness, Mr. M'Cosh, you thoroughly understand the significance of the marriage service, I hope?" said Mr.

Higginson, drily.

"D'ye know, then, sir," answered M'Cosh, in the voice of a saw going through a balk of timber, "I never read or heard a line of the marriage service in all my life. But I have a very good understanding of the object of the ceremony."

"I hope so, Mr. M'Cosh," said the captain, looking at him doubtfully.

"It is as a witness that you're here."

"'Twill be a _fact_, no doubt?" said Mr. M'Cosh.