“Ding-a-dong――a-ding-dong――ding-dong-boum.” Joy-bells――joy――for the
wedding! the wedding! Ha! And at the Wooden Midshipman’s! Cap’en
Cuttle was magnificent. He had had his hook polished with black lead,
and looked himself as radiant as his hook――aye as radiant as he did,
when, undressing the night before old Sol Gills tumbled into the
garret through the skylight. Where had that old man been!
Where――indeed where?
It was the question Cap’en Cuttle put――and in these terms.
“Whereby and awast――keep her head to the wind, and when kitched make a
note on. Therefore――if so――say so――what’s in the log? Let dogs delight
to bark and fight――for which see Dibdin――therefore――stand by it
is――and that steady.”
Thus solemnly adjured Gills spoke――
“Where I have been――and what I have been doing” the old man said “is
nothink to nobody.”
Ding-dong-bell――ding-a-dong――a-ding-dong! The wedding at the Wooden
Midshipman! It was on the very day, almost at the very hour that the
house of Dombey and Son was shut up, that the wedding party left the
Wooden Midshipman. And did he not look happy――that Wooden Midshipman?
A credible person, a Beadle, avers that the timber face smiled and the
timber lips shouted a loud “Hooray” in cadence with those joy-bells
which still rung merrily from the grey towers of St. Koweld-without.
Aye, and so they rang when, before the altar, stood Old Gills with a
radiant countenance and flowing tears――and Captain Cuttle with a
prayer-book in his hand (in order to check the parson and keep him
right) and his silver chronometer hung on his hook “whereby to see
fair play to all――awast and belay”――and Susan Nipper shedding tears
indefatigably――and Wall’r and Florence.
The sun was in the heavens! But lo! through the stained glass, amid
the saints and angels――gorgeous on that chancel window――fell its
blessing light! Walter Gay and his bride stood hoping in the
sun-shine!
“Wilt thou take this woman to be thy wedded wife?”
“Of course――no――that is――oh dear――dear――I beg pardon――its of no
consequence――none in the least――don’t mind me,” ejaculated a voice
from a dimly seen pew beneath the organ.
Thither repaired the Beadle full of wrath――and found the unhappy Toots
fainting on a hassock. But the Game Chicken advancing, doubled the
Beadle up――carried off Mr. Toots――deposited him in a patent safety,
and conducted him――for the improvement and development of his mind, to
see three hundred rats killed in five minutes, by a terrier much famed
in Whitechapel.
So the sun had not begun to descend towards the west――ere the marriage
party left the church, and――Wall’r and Florence, now Mr. and Mrs. Gay
leading them on――took their way towards London-bridge.