A MARRIAGE AT SEA
Some male passengers paced the deck, but the captain was below,
probably making sure of any hard words he would have to pronounce. I
strolled forwards to the break of the poop 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 coarse 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 sanctity 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--nobody 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
pronounced 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
ashore."
"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.
"Certainly," said the lawyer.
"Then, of course," said the mate, "I shall always be able to swear to
it."
"Ten past ten," cried the captain, whipping out his watch. "I hope
Miss Moggadore's not keeping the ladies waiting whilst she powders
herself, or fits a new cap to her hair."
He opened the door to call to the steward, then hopped back with a
sudden convulsive sea bow to make room for the ladies who were
approaching.
My darling was very white and looked at me piteously. She came to my
side, and slipped her hand into mine, whispering under her breath,
"Such a silly, senseless ceremony!" I pressed her fingers, and
whispered back that the ceremony was not for us, but for Aunt Amelia.
She wore her hat and jacket, and Mrs. Barstow was clad as for the deck;
but Miss Moggadore, on the other hand, as though in justification of
what the captain had said about her, made her appearance in the most
extraordinary cap I had ever seen: an inflated arrangement, as though
she were fresh from a breeze of wind that held it bladder-like. She
had changed her gown, too, for a sort of Sunday dress of satin or some
such material. She curtseyed on entering, and took up her position
alongside of M'Cosh, where she stood viewing the company with an
austere gaze, which so harmonised with the dry, literal, sober stare of
the mate, that I had to turn my back upon her to save a second
explosion of laughter.
"Are we all ready?" said the little captain, in the voice of a man who
might hail his mate to tell him to prepare to put the ship about, and
M'Cosh mechanically answered:
"Ay, ay, sir, all ready."
On this the captain went to the table, where lay a big Church Service
in large type, and putting on his glasses, looked at us over them, as a
hint for us to take our places. He then began to read, so slowly that
I foresaw unless he skipped many of the passages we should be detained
half the morning in his cabin. He read with extravagant enjoyment of
the sound of his own voice, and constantly lifted his eyes, whilst he
delivered the sentences as though he were admonishing instead of
marrying us. Grace held her head hung, and I felt her trembling when I
took her hand. I had flattered myself that I should exhibit no
nervousness in such an ordeal as this, but though I was not sensible of
any disposition to tears, I must confess that my secret agitation was
incessantly prompting me to laughter of an hysterical sort, which I
restrained with struggles that caused me no small suffering. It is at
such times as these, perhaps, that the imagination is most
inconveniently active.
The others stood behind me; I could not see them; it would have eased
me, I think, had I been able to do so. The thought of M'Cosh's face,
the fancy of Miss Moggadore's cap grew dreadfully oppressive, through
my inability to vent myself of the emotions they induced. My distress
was increased by the mate's pronunciation of the word "Amen." He was
always late with it, as though waiting for the others to lead the way,
unless it was that he chose to take a "thocht" before committing
himself. My wretchedness was heightened by the effect of this lonely
Amen, whose belatedness he accentuated by the fervent manner in which
he breathed it out.
Yet, spite of the several grotesque conditions which entered into it,
this was a brief passage of experience that was by no means lacking in
romantic and even poetic beauty. The flashful trembling of the sunlit
sea was in the atmosphere of the cabin, and bulkhead and upper deck
seemed to race with the rippling of the waves of light in them.
Through the open port came the seething and pouring song of the ocean;
the music of smiting billows, the small harmonies of foam bells and of
seething eddies. There was the presence of the ocean too, the sense of
its infinity, and of the speeding ship, a speck under the heavens, yet
fraught with the passions and feelings of a multitude of souls bound to
a new world, fresh from a land which many of them would never again
behold.
The captain took a very long time in marrying us. Had this business
possessed any sort of flavour of sentiment for Grace, it must have
vanished under the slow, somewhat husky, self-complacent, deep-sea
delivery of old Parsons. I took the liberty of pulling out my watch as
a hint, but he was enjoying himself too much to be in a hurry.
Nothing, I believe, could have so contributed to the felicity of this
man as the prospect of uniting one or more couples every day. On
several occasions his eyes appeared to fix themselves upon Miss
Moggadore, to whom he would accentuate the words he pronounced by
several nods. The Marriage Service, as we all know, is short, yet
Captain Parsons kept us more than half an hour in his cabin listening
to it. Before reciting "All ye that are married," he hemmed loudly,
and appeared to address himself exclusively to Miss Moggadore to judge
by the direction in which he continued emphatically to nod.
At last he closed his book, slowly gazing at one or the other of us
over his glasses as if to witness the effect of his reading in our
faces. He then opened his official log-book, and in a whisper, as
though he were in church, called Mr. Higginson and Mr. M'Cosh to the
table to witness his entry. Having written it he requested the two
witnesses to read it. Mr. M'Cosh pronounced it "Arle reet," and Mr.
Higginson nodded as gravely as though he were about to read a will.
"The ladies must see this entry, too,'" said Captain Parsons, still
preserving his Sabbatical tone. "Can't have too many witnesses. Never
can tell what may happen."
The ladies approached and peered, and Miss Moggadore's face took an
unusually hard and acid expression as she pored upon the captain's
handwriting.
"Pray read it out, Miss Moggadore," said I.
"Ay, do," exclaimed the captain.
In a thin, harsh voice like the _cheep_ of a sheave set revolving in a
block--wonderfully in accord by the way with the briny character of the
ceremony--the lady read as follows:--
"10.10 A.M. _Solemnised the nuptials of Herbert Barclay, Esquire,
Gentleman, and Grace Bellassys, Spinster. Present: Mrs. Barstow; Miss
Moggadore; James Higginson, Esquire, solicitor; Donald M'Cosh, Chief
Officer. This marriage thus celebrated was conducted according to the
rites and ceremonies of the Church of England._"
"And now, Mr. Barclay," said Captain Parsons, as Miss Moggadore
concluded, "you'd like a certificate under my hand, wouldn't you?"
"We're not strangers to Mr. and Mrs. Barclay's views," said Mr.
Higginson, "and I am certainly of opinion, captain, that Mr. Barclay
ought to have such a certificate as you suggest, that, on his arrival
at home, he may send copies of it to those whom it concerns."
At the utterance of the words _Mr. and Mrs. Barclay_ I laughed, whilst
Grace started, gave me an appealing look, turned a deep red, and
averted her face. The captain produced a sheet of paper, and after
looking into a dictionary once--"Nothing like accuracy," said he, "in
jobs of this sort"--he exclaimed, "Will this do?" and read as follows:--
"_Ship 'Carthusian.'_
"_At Sea_ (_such and such a date._)
"_I, Jonathan Parsons, of the above named ship 'Carthusian,' of London,
towards New Zealand, do hereby certify that I have this day united in
the holy bands of wedlock the following persons, to wit: Herbert
Barclay, Esquire, and Grace Bellassys, Spinster, in the presence of the
undersigned._"
"Nothing could be better," said I.
"Now, gentlemen and ladies," said the captain, "if you will please to
sign your names."
This was done, and the document handed to me. I pocketed it with a
clear sense of its value, as regards I mean the effect I might hope it
would produce on Lady Amelia Roscoe. Captain Parsons and the others
then shook hands with us, the two ladies kissing Grace, who, poor
child, looked exceedingly frightened and pale.
"What is the French word for breakfast?" said Captain Parsons.
"_Deejenwer_, sir," answered M'Cosh.
Parsons bent his ear with a frown. "You're giving me the Scotch for
it, I believe," said he.
"It's _dejeuner_, I think," said I, scarce able to speak for laughing.
"Ay, that'll be it," cried the captain. "Well, as Mr. and Mrs. Barclay
don't relish the notion of a public _degener_, we must drink their
healths in a bottle of champagne."
He put his head out of the cabin and called to the steward, who brought
the wine, and for hard upon half an hour my poor darling and I had to
listen to speeches from old Parsons and the lawyer. Even M'Cosh must
talk. In slow and rugged accents he invited us to consider how
fortunate we were in having fallen into the hands of Captain Parsons.
Had _he_ been master of the _Carthusian_ there could have been no
marriage, for he would not have known what to do. He had received a
valuable professional hint that morning, and he begged to thank Captain
Parsons for allowing him to be present on so interesting an occasion.
This said, the proceedings ended. Mrs. Barstow, passing Grace's hand
under her arm, carried her off to her cabin, and I, accepting a cigar
from the captain's box, went on deck to smoke it and to see if there
was anything in sight likely to carry us home.
A number of passengers approached with smiling faces, guessing the
wedding over, but they speedily perceived that I was in no temper for
talking, and were good-natured enough to leave me to myself. Even Mr.
Tooth, who promised to become a bore, carried his jokes and his grins
to another part of the deck in a very short while, and I leaned against
the rail, cigar in mouth, lost in thought, casting looks at the sea, or
directing my eyes over the side where the white water, in a wide and
throbbing sheet, was racing past.
Married! Could I believe it? If so--if I was indeed a wedded man,
then, I suppose, never in the annals of love-making could anything
stranger have happened than that a young couple, eloping from a French
port, should be blown out into the ocean and there united, not by a
priest, by but a merchant skipper. And supposing the marriage to be
valid, as Mr. Higginson, after due deliberation, had declared such
ocean wedding ceremonies as this to be, and supposing when we arrived
ashore, Lady Amelia Roscoe, despite Grace's and my association and the
ceremony which had just ended, should continue to withhold her
sanction, thereby rendering it impossible for my cousin to marry us,
might not an exceedingly fine point arise--something to put the wits of
the lawyers to their trumps, in the case of her ladyship or me going to
them? I mean this: that seeing that our marriage took place at sea,
seeing, moreover, that we were in a manner urged, or, as I might choose
to put it, _compelled_ by Captain Parsons to marry--he assuming, as
master of the ship, the position of guardian to the girl, and as her
guardian exhorting and hurrying us to this union for her sake--would
not the question of Lady Amelia Roscoe's consent be set aside, whether
on the grounds of the peculiarity of our situation, or because it was
impossible for us to communicate with her, or because the commander of
the ship, a person in whom is vested the most despotic powers,
politely, hospitably, but substantially, too, _ordered_ us to be
married? I cannot put the point as a lawyer would, but I trust I make
intelligible the thoughts which occupied my mind as I stood on the
decks of the _Carthusian_ after quitting the captain's cabin.
About twenty minutes later, Grace arrived, accompanied by Mrs. Barstow.
My darling did not immediately see me, and I noticed the eager way in
which she stood for some moments scanning the bright and leaping scene
of ocean. The passengers raised their hats to her, one or two ladies
approached and seemed to congratulate her; she then saw me, and in a
moment was at my side.
"How long is this to last, Herbert?"
"At any hour something may heave in sight, dearest."
"It distresses me to be looked at. And yet, it is miserable to be
locked up in Mrs. Barstow's cabin, where I am unable to be with you."
"Do not mind being looked at. Everybody is very kind, Grace; so sweet
as you are, too--who can help looking at you? Despite your
embarrassment, let me tell you that I am very well pleased with what
has happened," and I repeated to her what had been passing in my mind.
But she was too nervous, perhaps too young to understand. She had left
her gloves in the yacht, her hands were bare, and her fine eyes rested
on the wedding ring upon her finger.
"Must I go on wearing this, Herbert?"
"Oh, yes, my own--certainly, whilst you are here. What would Captain
Parsons say?--what would everybody think if you removed it?"
"But I am not your wife!" she exclaimed with a pout, softly beating the
deck with her foot, "and this ring is unreal--it signifies nothing--"
I interrupted her. "I am not so sure that you are not my wife," said
I. She shot a look at me out of her eyes, which were large with alarm
and confusion. "At all events, I believe I am your husband, and
surely, my precious, you must hope that I am. But whether or not, pray
go on wearing that ring. You can pull it off when we get to Penzance,
and I will slip it on again when we stand before my cousin."
"It has been a dreadful adventure," said she.
"More memorable than dreadful," I answered, putting her hand under my
arm and stepping with her over to where the second mate was
standing--the young fellow who had brought us aboard out of the yacht.
He touched his cap very civilly, whilst the skin of his face shrunk
into a thousand wrinkles to the grin he put on.
"Surely something will be coming into view soon?" said I.
"Oh, I think so, sir," he answered.
"What is this rate of sailing?"
"About nine knots, sir."
"There it is!" cried I, "and every hour brings New Zealand nearer and
makes England more distant."
"Do not talk of New Zealand," exclaimed Grace. "What sort of ships are
to be met here?" she added, addressing the second mate.
"All sorts, Miss--, I beg your pardon, I mean ma'am," he answered;
"ocean tramps in the main, but a mail liner here and there."
"What are your instructions?" I began, but at that instant I caught
sight of old Parsons rising through the hatch with a sextant in his
hand. "Oh, here is the captain coming to take sights," said I; "we
must arrive at an understanding with him. I believe he would like to
keep us on board as an inducement to others to get married."
He smiled with an air of importance as we advanced, and I imagined in
him an effort to give himself the airs of a father, or of a
father-in-law. His little damp, deep-sunk eyes, so far as they could
express any species of emotion, seemed to survey us with benignity and
pride as though he would say, "_That_ couple is my work, ladies and
gentlemen. _I_ made them one. Who's next?"
"When you have finished with your sextant, captain," I exclaimed, "I
should like a few words with you."
"Pray talk away," he answered, putting the instrument to his eye.
"What about our getting home?"
"At the first opportunity that comes along, I'll transfer you. Can't
do more. Can't send ye home in one of my quarter-boats, you know."
"But your mates have no instructions."
"They shall have all necessary instructions presently. And how do you
feel, mem, after that little job below? Being married 's a trying
performance. I've known men who'd have been married twenty times over
if it hadn't been for the ceremony."
He gazed with an air of satisfaction at her wedding ring, and then
applied his eye afresh to the sextant. My mind was rendered easier by
his promise to repeat his earlier instructions to his mates, and until
the luncheon bell rang, Grace and I continued to pace the deck. By
this time the news of our having been married had travelled forwards,
conveyed to the Jacks and to the steerage passengers, as I took it, by
one of the stewards. It was the sailors' dinner hour, and I could see
twenty of them on the forecastle staring at us as one man, whilst every
time we advanced to the edge of the poop, where the rail protected the
deck, there was a universal upturning of bearded, rough faces, with
much pointing and nodding among the women.
After all this the luncheon table was something of a relief, despite
the rows of people at it. I was afraid from the manner in which
Captain Parsons from time to time regarded us that he was rehearsing a
speech, a menace I could not think of without silent horror since it
must inevitably compel a reply from me. However, nothing was said, and
we lunched in peace, much looked at, particularly by the ladies, as you
will suppose; but I found Grace easier under this inspection than I
should have dared to hope; possibly she was now getting used to it.
She divided her conversation between me and Mr. Higginson, who sat at
her left, and she wore a very sweet and easy manner, charming with its
girlish grace of dignity. Her breeding showed to perfection at that
time, I thought. It was probably rendered more defined to my mind by
the looks and behaviour of the other ladies, all of them, to be sure, a
very good sort of homely, friendly people, with something of the true
lady indeed in Mrs. Barstow.