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Marriage at Sea

<h3> CHAPTER XII </h3> <h4> A MARRIAGE AT SEA </h4> 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. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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