THE WEDDING FEAST.—THE ADMIRAL’S DISAPPOINTMENT.
And now the day arrived, at length, when Charles Holland was to call
Flora Bannerworth his bride.
On this most auspicious event, as may be well imagined, the admiral was
in his glory, and he declared his intention of dancing, if any very
handsome young lady should ask him to be her partner at the ball, but
not otherwise; for it had been agreed to have a ball in the evening.
Jack Pringle, too, was restored completely to favour upon the occasion;
indeed, as far as the admiral was concerned, he seemed to have granted
a general amnesty to all offenders, because he was heard to say,—
“Well, I really should not mind if any poor devil of a Frenchman was to
come; he should know that good eating and drinking was for once in his
life; or even that vagabond, old Varney, the vampyre. What a fool he
was to take himself off before the wedding, to be sure.”
Henry Bannerworth had undertaken to take off the old man’s hand all the
trouble connected with the actual ceremony. That is to say, letting the
clergyman know, and so on; therefore he, the admiral, had nothing at
all upon his mind but the festivities that were to be gone into upon
the occasion.
The numerous guests recommended by the lawyer were invited to a
breakfast, which was to be at one o’clock; while a favoured few, which,
together with the family party, made up, altogether, about eighteen
persons, were to come to the wedding itself, and to be actually present
at the ceremony.
The admiral was rather annoyed at Jack Pringle, about ten o’clock,
looking very anxiously at the sky, and shaking his head in a manner
which seemed to indicate that he had something of importance on his
mind.
“What the deuce is in the wind, now?” said the admiral. “You are always
looking for foul weather, you are, and be hanged you!”
“Oh!” said Jack, “I was only a considering what they calls the blessed
aspect of the sky, and it seems to me there is a sort of kind of look
about things as says that there won’t be no marriage at all to-day.”
“No marriage!”
“No, not a bit of it; I’m tolerably sure there won’t. I was a going on
one of my numerous occasions to be married, and there was just that
there kind of look in the sky, and I wasn’t.”
“What kind of look, you lubber? I rather think, after living afloat a
matter of forty years and more, I ought to know the looks of the sky
rather, and I don’t see any thing unusual in it.”
“Don’t you? Then I does; and there won’t be no marriage.”
“Why you infernal croaking swab, you are drunk or out of your senses,
one of the two. I would bet my head to a bottle of rum, that there will
be a marriage.”
“I don’t mind,” said Jack, “betting one bottle to twenty that there
won’t.”
“Done, then—done; and, Jack, for once in a way, you will find yourself
regularly done, I can tell you. I know you have got some crotchet
or another in your head, by which you think you will get the better
of the old man; but it won’t do; for I won’t stand any quibbling or
lawyer-like sneaking out of it.”
“Oh! I won’t sneak out of it, you shall see. It shall be all plain
sailing and above board, I can tell you, admiral.”
The old man rather puzzled himself to think what Jack could mean; but
after a time he gave it up, and forgot it; for his mind began to be too
actively engaged upon what was going on to pay much attention to what
he considered was some joke of Jack’s, which would turn out to be a
mere quibble of words after all.
The admiral was right when he said there was no appearance of anything
in the weather to indicate that any stop would be put to the festivity
on that account; for a more pleasant, and a more genial, delightful day
for the occasion never shone out of the heavens.
Indeed, if anything could have been considered as a gratifying omen of
the future felicity which Charles Holland was likely to enjoy in the
society of Flora Bannerworth, it was the aspect of that day—a day so
replete with beauties that, had it been picked out specially for that
occasion, it could not have been more gratifying or delightful.
The house was a large and a handsome one which the admiral had taken,
and, since, of course, he considered it to be his own, he was from an
early hour in the morning in a perpetual fidget, and here, and there,
and everywhere, for the purpose of seeing that all the arrangements
were complete for the day’s proceedings.
As may be well supposed, he was a great hindrance to everybody, and
most especially the servants, whom he had temporarily engaged, wished
him at the very devil for his interference.
But, however, notwithstanding all these drawbacks, by ten o’clock
everything was in a tolerable state of readiness; and then the admiral
vociferously congratulated the first of the guests who arrived, for
that was a great merit in the old man’s eyes, and, although he did not
know the person a bit, he almost terrified him by the cordiality of his
greeting.
“That’s right,” he said; “take old Time by the forelock, and always
be too soon instead of too late. I’ll tell you some capital stories
some of these days about the advantage of being a little too soon—But,
hilloa! here comes somebody else. Egad! we shall have them all here
soon. Here, Jack Pringle! where are you?”
“Here!” cried Jack; “hard on to your larboard bow.”
“Pipe all hands among the flunkies!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Jack.
Producing then a boatswain’s whistle, he blew a shrill call, which
pleased the admiral, for, as he said, that was the proper way to begin
anything like an entertainment.
People know they must be punctual at weddings, and generally are
tolerably so, with the exception of those persons who are never
punctual at anything; so that, in a short time, nearly the whole of
those who had been invited to be present at the ceremony had arrived,
and the hour was fast getting on towards that when the marriage was to
take place.
The admiral would have been blind, indeed, if he had not perceived that
there was a great deal of whispering going on among the Bannerworth
family, and he got rather indignant and a little uneasy to know what it
could all be about; but, most of all, he began to be annoyed at Jack
Pringle, for that individual’s conduct was certainly of a peculiar and
extraordinary character.
Every now and then he would burst out into such an amazing roar of
laughter, apparently at nothing, that it became seriously annoying to
the old man; and, finally, taking up a pair of nut-crackers that were
upon the table, he gave Jack a hard rap upon the top of the head, as he
said,—
“Are you out of your senses? what are you going on about?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Jack; “I was only a thinking. Don’t you recollect
our wager?”
“Yes, I do; you have laid me one bottle of rum to twenty that Charles
and Flora won’t be married to-day.”
“Very good,” said Jack, “that’s quite correct, and mind, I hold you to
it.”
“Hold me to it—I’ll hold you to it. I know well enough it’s some stupid
joke you have got hold of.”
“Very good,” said Jack; “we shall see.”
The time crept on, and half-past eleven o’clock came, and the guests
were assembled in the drawing-room, where, by a special licence, the
ceremony was to have been performed; and on the mantle-shelf of which
there was a time-piece, indicating the rapid arrival of the hour named
for the ceremony.
“You know, Henry,” said the admiral, “I left everything to you. I hope
it’s all correct, now, and that you have not made any blunders.”
“None whatever, I assure you, admiral. I have arranged everything; but
Flora has just told me that she wants to speak to you.”
“Speak to me! then why the deuce doesn’t she speak? I suppose she can
speak to me without asking your leave?”
“Admiral,” said Flora, “I am extremely anxious to ask you if you will
forgive me for something which may possibly annoy you a little, and
which certainly I feel myself answerable for.”
“What is it?”
“You must promise to forgive me first.”
“Well, well, of course—of course I do; what is it?”
“Then, I must say, I would rather not be married to-day.”
“What!” cried the admiral.
“I told you so,” shouted Jack. “I saw it in the look of the clouds this
morning. I never knew anybody get married when there was a light breeze
blowing from the nor’-east.”
“You be quiet,” said the admiral; “I’ll be the death of you, presently.
What is the meaning of this, Flora? Is it not rather a cruel jest to
say such a thing to me now?”
“It is no jest, sir, but a fact; I must beg to be excused.”
“And I, uncle,” said Charles Holland, advancing, “am of the same mind;
and I join with Flora in begging that you will look over the little
disappointment this may occasion you.”
“Little disappointment!” cried the admiral; “am I awake—am I out of my
senses? Jack, you rascal, where am I?”
“Can’t say,” cried Jack; “but I think as how you are abut two points to
the south’ard.”
“Flora, speak again. You do not, cannot mean to tell me that any
foolish quarrel has interfered to prevent this union, upon which I have
set my heart? If you are not jesting, there must be some very special
reason for this alteration of intention.”
“There is,” said Flora, as she looked the old man kindly in the face;
“there is a very special reason, sir, and one which I will mention
to you at once; a reason which makes it next to impossible that the
ceremony should proceed. The real fact is——”
“Well, go on—go on.”
“That Charles and I were married a fortnight ago.”
“D—n me,” said the admiral, “if ever I was so taken in my life. A
fortnight ago! shiver my timbers——”
“Go on, old pepper-castor,” said Jack; “only remember you owe me twenty
bottles of rum.”
“I won’t look over it,” said the admiral; “I won’t and I can’t; it’s
treating me ill, Flora—I tell you, it is treating me ill.”
“But you know you have looked over it, admiral,” said Flora, “and I
have your positive promise to forgive me.”
“Besides,” said Jack, “she won’t do so no more; and, as far as I sees
of these ere things, it’s a deuced good thing as we ain’t bothered with
any parson coming here this morning, casting up his eyes like a dying
dolphin if one outs with so much as a natural d—n or two. I can’t stand
such rubbish, not I; and its my out and out opinion that we shall be
all the merrier; and as for the old man——”
Jack’s oratory was put a stop to by the admiral seizing a piece of
confectionery that was upon the table, and throwing it with such a
dab in his face that he was half choked and covered with currant
jam; and he made such a spluttering that the guests could keep their
countenances no longer, but burst into a roar of laughter consequent
upon that proceeding.
“And you, too, Henry,” said the admiral, “I suppose you were in the
plot?”
“Why yes,” said Henry, “I rather think I was. The fact is, that Flora
disliked the public marriage, although she looked forward with pleasure
to the meeting with this pleasant party on the present occasion; so,
among us, we all cast about for some means for securing the agreeable
without the disagreeable, and so, a fortnight ago, they were married
quietly and privately, and I plead guilty.”
“I thought as much,” said the admiral, “I’ll be hanged if I didn’t; but
now just answer me one question, Charles.”
“A hundred, if you please, uncle.”
“No, one will suffice. I want to know whether you were married in the
name of Bell, or in the name of Holland?”
“I took legal advice, uncle, as to the validity of my marriage in the
name of Bell; and as I found that a man’s marriage was quite legal, let
him call himself whatever he pleases, and as I knew that it was your
wish I should take the name of Bell, I was married in that name, and
Flora now calls herself Mrs. Bell.”
“Then I’ll say no more about it,” said the admiral, “but let it pass
so—let’s be as merry as possible; and first of all, we will have a
bumper all round to the bride.”
This affair, upon which Charles really had had some misgivings, being
thus agreeably settled, there was certainly nothing to interfere with
the hilarity of the meeting, and as there was an abundance of good
cheer, and the guests had been selected judiciously, and were persons
who could and would enjoy themselves, an extremely pleasant day was
passed.
For about an hour, perhaps, only, the admiral now and then exhibited
some symptoms of indignation, and shook his head occasionally at Flora;
but a smile from her soon restored him, and he did actually contrive
to get through a quadrille in some extraordinary manner, by almost
knocking every lady down, and ending by falling sprawling himself.
The only great interruption—and that lasted for nearly half an hour—to
the proceedings arose from that incorrigible Jack Pringle, who, as
usual, did not get a glass too much, but a whole bottle too much; and
then an obscure idea seized him that it was absolutely impossible for
him to avoid kissing all the ladies, as it was a wedding, or ought to
have been a wedding.
Blaming himself, therefore, very much for not having thought of it
before, he made a wild rush into the drawing-room, and commenced
operations.
[Illustration: Jack attempts to kiss all the ladies.]
A scene of confusion ensued which quite baffles description, and Jack
had to be carried out at last by main force, thinking himself a very
ill-used person, when he was only doing what was right and proper.
The admiral apologised to the ladies for Jack, calling their attention
to the fact that he wasn’t such a fool as he looked, and that, after
all, it wasn’t a bad notion of Jack’s, only that he had not set about
it in the right way.
“Howsomedever,” said the admiral, “I don’t mind showing you how he
ought to have done it.”
This, however, was universally declined, and that with so much
decision, too, that the admiral was forced to forego the generous
intention; but long before the parties separated for the night, he
admitted that it was just as well the marriage business had been all
settled before; and it was shrewdly suspected that, from the fact of
the admiral singing “Rule Britannia,” after he had gone to bed, he
had just slightly exceeded the bounds of that moderation which he was
always preaching to Jack.