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Marriage at Sea

<h3> CHAPTER XI </h3> <h4> GRACE CONSENTS </h4> I found Grace seated at the table between Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore. Mrs. Barstow bestowed a smile upon me, but Miss Moggadore's thin lips did not part, and there was something very austere and acid in the gaze she fastened upon my face. The saloon was now in full blaze, and presented a very fine, sparkling appearance indeed. The motion of the ship was so quiet that the swing of the radiant lamps was hardly noticeable. Some eight or ten of the passengers were scattered about, a couple at chess, another reading, a third leaning back with his eyes fixed on a lamp, and so on. It was of an ebony blackness in the windows overlooking the main deck, though, as the door was opened and shut by the coming and going of stewards, there would enter a low, growling hum of conversation, with the scent of coarse tobacco; and now and again, a noise as of a concertina played forward on the forecastle. I leaned over the back of my darling's chair, and addressed some commonplaces to her and to the two ladies, intending presently to withdraw her, that I might have a long talk, but after a minute or two Mrs. Barstow rose and went to her cabin, a hint that Miss Moggadore was good enough to take. I seated myself in that lady's chair at Grace's side. "Well, my pet, and what have they been talking to you about?" "They have been urging me to marry you to-morrow morning, Herbert," she answered, with a smile that was half a pout and a blush that did not signify so much embarrassment but that she could look at me. "I am fresh from a long talk with the captain," said I, "and he has been urging me to do the same thing." "It is ridiculous," said she, holding down her head; "there is no clergyman in the ship." "But the captain of a vessel may act as a clergyman under the circumstances," said I. "I don't believe it, Herbert." "But see here, Grace," said I, speaking earnestly but softly, for there were ears not far distant, "it is not likely that we should regard the captain's celebration of our marriage here as more than something that will strengthen our hands for the struggle with your aunt. Until we have been joined by a clergyman in proper shipshape fashion, as Captain Parsons himself might say, we shall not be man and wife; but then, my darling, consider this: first of all it is in the highest degree probable that a marriage performed on board a ship by her captain is legal. Next, that your aunt would suppose we regarded the union as legal, when of course she would be forced to conclude we considered ourselves man and wife. Would she then dare come between us? Her consent must be wrung from her by this politic stroke of shipboard wedding that to her mind would be infinitely more significant than our association in the yacht. She will go about and inquire if a shipboard wedding is legal; her lawyers will answer her as best they can, but their advice will be, secure your niece by sending your consent to Penzance, that she may be legitimately married in an English Church by a Church of England clergyman." She listened thoughtfully, but with an air of childish simplicity that was inexpressibly touching to my love for her. "It would be merely a ceremony," said she, leaning her cheek on her hand, "to strengthen your appeal to Aunt Amelia?" "Wholly, my darling." "Well, dearest," said she gently, "if you wish it—" I could have taken her to my heart for her ready compliance. I had expected a resolved refusal, and had promised myself some hours that evening and next day of exhortation, entreaty, representation. I was indeed hot on the project, and even as I talked to her I felt my enthusiasm growing. Secretly I had no doubt whatever that Captain Parsons was empowered as master of a British merchantman to marry us, and though, as I had told her, I should consider the ceremony as simply an additional weapon for fighting Aunt Amelia with, yet as a contract it might securely bind us too; we were to be parted only by the action of the aunt; this I felt assured, for the sake of her niece's fame and future and for her own name, her ladyship would never attempt; so that from the moment the captain ended the service, Grace would be my wife to all intents and purposes, which indeed was all we had in view when we glided out of Boulogne harbour in the poor little Spitfire. However, though she had sweetly and promptly consented, a great deal remained to talk about. I repeated all that Captain Parsons, and all that Mr. Higginson had said, and when we had exhausted the subject we naturally spoke of our prospects of quitting the Carthusian; and one subject suggesting another, we sat chatting till about nine o'clock, at which hour the stewards arrived with wine and grog and biscuits; whereupon the passengers put away their books and chess boards and gathered about the table, effectually ending our tête-à-tête. Then Mrs. Barstow arrived, followed by Miss Moggadore. I took the former lady aside, leaving Grace in charge of the acidulated gentlewoman with the curls. "Miss Bellassys tells me," said I, "that you have warmly counselled her to allow Captain Parsons to marry us. You are very good. You could not do us a greater service than by giving such advice. She has consented, asking only that the ceremony shall be privately performed in the captain's cabin." "She is very young," replied Mrs. Barstow, "too young I fear to realise her position. I am a mother, Mr. Barclay, and my sympathies are entirely with your charming sweetheart. Under such conditions as we find her in we must all wish to see her married. Were her mother living, I am sure that would be her desire." "Were her mother living," said I, "there would have been no elopement." She inclined her head with a cordial gesture. "Miss Bellassys," said she, "has been very candid. As a mother myself, I must blame her; but as a woman—" she shook her head smiling. "We are fortunate indeed," I exclaimed, "in falling into the hands of people so sympathetic and upright as yourself, and Captain Parsons. I only wish that I could thoroughly persuade myself that a marriage performed by a shipmaster is legal." "Oh, I think you may—I am sure you may. But your first step, Mr. Barclay, when you get ashore, must be to get your cousin to re-marry you." "Undoubtedly," I cried, "nor could I consider Grace my wife until that happened, though I suppose we shall still have to wait—for that second marriage, I mean—for the aunt's consent." "You need not fear," she exclaimed, "the marriage to-morrow will gain her consent." We stood apart conversing for some time, and were then interrupted by the head-steward, who came to tell me that by orders of the captain I was to sleep in a berth occupied by one of the passengers, a Mr. Tooth. I went to inspect this berth and was very well pleased to find a clean and comfortable bed prepared. Mr. Tooth accompanied me, and pointing to his razors and hair-brushes, begged me to make use of every thing that he had. He had a great quantity of under-linen he told me, enough to last the pair of us the whole round voyage, and his coats and trousers were entirely at my service, "though," said he, who was a short man, running his eyes over my tall figure with a grin, "I fear my clothes will not allow you to take very much exercise." I drank a glass of hot whisky and water at the cabin table, and, observing that Grace looked pale and weary, I asked Mrs. Barstow to induce her to go to bed. The darling seemed reluctant to leave me. She looked about her in a sort of child-like, shrinking way, and whispered that she wished to sit with me. "I am not sleepy, dearest," said she; "why cannot we sit alone together in this saloon, as we did in the cabin of the little Spitfire? You shall sleep first, and then I will put my head upon your shoulder. It is but for one night, Herbert. We are sure to meet a ship going home to-morrow." Assuredly would it have given me the most exquisite happiness to sit alone with her, as she wished, pillowing her fair head, and watching her as she slept; but it was not to be thought of, for reasons much too obvious to need reciting, and presently she went with Mrs. Barstow to that lady's cabin, turning to look at me ere the door closed upon her. I had my pipe and a pouch of tobacco in my pocket, and thought I would go on deck for half-an-hour before retiring to bed. As I passed the table on my way to the companion ladder, Mr. Higginson rose from a book he had been reading, and detained me by putting his hand upon my arm. "I have been thinking over the matter of marriage at sea, Mr. Barclay," he exclaimed, with a wary look round, to make sure that nobody was listening. "I wish we had a copy of the Merchants' Shipping Act for 1854, for I believe there is a section which provides that every master of a ship carrying an official log-book, shall enter in it every marriage that takes place on board, together with the names and ages of the parties. And I fancy there is another section which provides that every master of every foreign-going ship shall sign and deliver to some mercantile marine authority, a list containing, amongst other things, a statement of every marriage which takes place on board. There is also an Act called, if my memory serves me, the Confirmation of Marriage on her Majesty's Ships' Act. But this, I presume, does not concern what may happen in merchant vessels. I should like to read up Hammick on the Marriage Laws of England. One thing, however, is clear: marriage at sea is contemplated by the Merchant Shipping Acts of 1854. Merchantmen do not carry chaplains; a clergyman in attendance as a passenger was assuredly not in the minds of those who are responsible for the Act. The sections, in my opinion, directly point to the captain as the person to officiate; and, having turned the matter thoroughly over, I don't scruple to pronounce that a marriage solemnised at sea by the master of a British merchantman is as legal and valid as though celebrated on shore in the usual way." "I am delighted to hear you say so," said I. "It is a most interesting point," said he. "It ought certainly to be settled." "Well, speaking for Miss Bellassys and myself," said I, "we intend to settle it to-morrow at the captain's convenience. He's very willing, and most kindly anxious." "Oh, yes," said he drily, "old Parsons is noted for this sort of thing. I have heard of his having married several couples—passengers of his—in his time. I believe he cuts a very great figure at a burial at sea; but as to his claiming the right of baptising—" he burst into a laugh, and added, "I came to Europe with him last voyage, and he once told me that he had mistaken his vocation: he ought to have entered the church. 'I should have been a bishop by this time,' said he. He has a very clerical look, certainly!" I laughed out, and went on deck with my spirits in a dance. To think of such a marriage as we contemplated! And to find it in all probability as binding as the shore-going ceremony! Assuredly it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and the gale that had nearly foundered us was to end in returning us to our native shore—a wedded pair! It was a dark night, despite the young moon in the west and a wide field of stars under which a few high clouds were floating. The wind was almost directly over the stern, and seemed but little more than a quiet fanning, owing to the ship running; but it had weight enough to keep the sails silent, and to fill the ear with the murmur of hurrying waters. The ship loomed phantasmally in the clear dusk, with a regular and stately swaying of her pale heights. All was silent and dark on the main-deck and forward; on the poop glittered a few figures of male passengers with the dark shape of one of the mates pacing the deck athwartships, a stirless shadow of a man at the wheel, and someone near him, with a glowing tip in the middle of his face signifying a lighted cigar. I filled my pipe and stood musing a bit, thinking of Caudel and the others of the little dandy, of the yacht, of the gale we had outlived, and twenty other like matters, when the voice of the captain broke in upon my reverie. "This will be you, Mr. Barclay? I begin to know you now without candle light by your height." "Yes, it is I, captain—just stepped on deck for a smoke and a breath of this cool wind before turning in. Do you know, when I view the great dark outline of your ship sweeping through this tremendous space of darkness, and then think of the crowds of people asleep in her heart, I can't but consider the post of commander of a big merchantman, like this vessel, foremost amongst the most responsible under the sun." "Sir, you are right," exclaimed the little man. "Realise what is committed to his safe keeping," I went on; "not precious human lives only, but a ship and cargo of value enough to purchase several German principalities. Nor is it one voyage only. You may make twenty in your capacity of commander. Think then of the wealth that will have been entrusted to you in your time, the crowds upon crowds of human beings whose lives were in your hands!" "Sir, you are right," he repeated, in a voice that was oily with gratification. "Pray what is your age, Mr. Barclay?" I told him. "Then, considering your age, all I can say is you talk very sensibly. Let us walk, sir." We started to measure the planks from the wheel to half-way the length of the poop. "There is no doubt," said I, "that you, as master of this vessel, are, as you have all along contended, empowered to marry me to Miss Bellassys," and I then gave him the substance of what Mr. Higginson had said to me below. "I knew that Higginson would see it after thinking a bit," said he. "Of course, I am empowered to marry, on board my ship, any couple that may apply to me. Have you spoken to Miss Bellassys?" "I have." "And is she agreeable?" "Perfectly agreeable." "Good!" said he with a chuckle. "Now, when shall it be?" "Oh, it is for you to say, captain." "Ten o'clock to-morrow morning do?" "Very well, indeed," I answered, "but it will be quite private, Captain Parsons; it is Miss Bellassys's wish." "Private? Why private?" he exclaimed, in a voice of disappointment; "a wedding is an interesting sight, and I intended to admit the steerage passengers. I had also seen my way to converting our usual lunch into a sort of wedding breakfast for you, and indeed I don't mind telling you, Mr. Barclay, that I've been amusing myself during the last half-hour in rehearsing several speeches." "I can assure you, captain," said I, "that I fully appreciate all your goodness. But a public ceremony!—No, a quite private affair in your cabin, if you please." We measured half the length of the deck in silence, and I almost dreaded to hear him speak. He then said: "It seems a pity to rob the passengers of an edifying sight. There are several couples in the steerage who ought to be married, and the example I counted upon offering them would be certain to take effect. But of course—if it's the young lady's wish,—by the way, you'll forgive me asking the question: it's quite a matter of form—no rudeness intended—you are sure that your name is Barclay?" "Quite sure." "What Barclay?" "Herbert," said I. "Herbert Barclay!" said he, "and the young lady's name's genuine too?" "Perfectly genuine, captain." "Grace Bellassys!" said he; "it sound a bit theatrical, don't it?" "It is her name, nevertheless," said I laughing. "You see, Mr. Barclay, if the names are wrong, the marriage is wrong." "There'll be nothing wrong in this marriage," said I, "if the rights of it are to be dependent merely upon the genuineness of our names. But now, let me put this question to you: in officiating as you propose, will you not be accepting a certain legal risk?" "As how?" he exclaimed. "You will be marrying a young lady who is under age, knowing, as I repeat now, and was bound to tell you at the start, that her guardian objects to the alliance." "There are no guardians at sea," he said, "in the sense of your young lady's aunt. I'm her guardian whilst she's aboard my ship, and as I said before, so I say again, I give my consent seeing the situation she's put herself in, and understanding that it's my duty to help her out of it." I swallowed a laugh, and changed the subject by asking him to tell me about the couples he had married, and so in chatting, three-quarters of an hour passed, at the expiration of which time I shook him by the hand and went to bed. Mr. Tooth tried hard to keep me awake that he might satisfy his curiosity; he had vaguely heard I was to be married next day, and wished for the story of my elopement at first hand. But I was dog tired, and no sooner did my head press the pillows than I answered him with snores. I slept right through the night, and when I awoke, Mr. Tooth was shaving himself, and the cabin was brilliant with sunshine whitened to a finer glory yet by the broad surface of milk-white froth that was rushing past the ship. There was plainly a noble sailing breeze blowing, and the vessel was lying well down to it, with a sort of humming and tingling throughout the whole body of her. I made haste to shave, fencing with Mr. Tooth's questions, as he plied them out of a mouth that yawned darkly amid the soapsuds with which he had covered his cheeks, and then hastened into the saloon to look for Grace and take her on deck. The good-humoured little stewardess, however, told me she was not yet up, though it wanted but twenty minutes to eight, on which I shot through the companion into the windy splendour of the grandest ocean morning that ever set a man fresh from his bed blinking. The ship was heeling to it as a yacht might; her yards were braced forward, and the snow at her forefoot soared and blew away in smoke to the sliding irresistible thrust of her sharp metal stem. The sea for leagues and leagues rolled blue, foaming, brilliant; wool-like clouds, lovely with prismatic glitterings in their skirts, as they sailed from the sun, were speeding into the south-east. The whole life of the world seemed to be in that morning—in the joyous sweep of the blue wind, in the frolicsome frothing of each long blue ridge of rolling sea, in the triumphant speeding of the ship sliding buoyant from one soft foam-freckled hollow to another. I drew a deep breath. Ha! thought I, if it were always like this now, and New Zealand not so distant. But as I thus thought I sent my eyes to leeward, and the first thing I saw was a large steamer heading in an opposite direction, and undoubtedly going home. Our combined speed was making her look like to be passing at the rate of forty or fifty miles an hour. I started, and stepped up to Mr. M'Cosh, who stood alone at the head of the poop ladder. "Isn't that vessel going home?" I cried. He viewed her deliberately as though looking at her for the first time, then said, with his Scotch accent, which I will not attempt to repeat: "I don't doubt it, sir." "Then why not signal, Mr. M'Cosh? I may have to wait a long time for another opportunity." "I thought, sir," said he, looking at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes, "that you were to be married this morning?" "Oh! well," I exclaimed, seeing that any talk about the steamer would be of no use in the face of the swiftness with which a hull of about three thousand tons was diminishing to the proportions of a wherry; "Captain Parsons is all kindness and will have his way. But marriage or no marriage, Mr. M'Cosh, I hope he will give you and your brother officers instructions to signal the next vessel we pass, for we really want to get home, you know." As I pronounced these words the square little figure of the captain, crowned with a high hat, brushed as usual the wrong way, rose through the companion hatch. Mr. M'Cosh touched his cap and crossed to the other side of the deck. The captain gave me a friendly nod, and stood awhile to send a number of seawardly, critical glances aloft, and then round the ocean. I approached him and said, pointing to the steamer: "There's a fine chance lost, captain." "Lost?" cried he, "you mustn't be in a hurry yet, sir. There's your business to do first, sir." "True," said I, "but it might help us to get home—in time—if you will instruct the officers under your command to communicate with any vessel sailing to England." "I told Mr. M'Cosh not to communicate until you were married," he answered. "There'll be no lack of ships homeward bound, sir," and so saying he left me to go to the rail that protected the edge of the poop where he stood surveying the scores of steerage passengers which filled the main-deck, many of them, as they squatted or hung about here and there, eating their breakfasts, which seemed to me to consist of ship's biscuit and little tin pots of black tea. I saw nothing of Grace till the cabin breakfast was ready; most of the first-class passengers had by this time assembled, some of them who had been sea-sick yesterday issuing from their cabins; and I noticed a general stare of admiration as my darling stepped forth followed by Mrs. Barstow. Her long and comfortable night's rest had returned her bloom to her. How sweet she looked! how engaging the girlish dignity of her posture! how bright her timid eyes as she paused to send a glance round in search of me! I was instantly at her side. "The ceremony is fixed for ten, I think?" said Mrs. Barstow, and here Miss Moggadore arrived as one who had a right to be with us, not to say of us. "Yes, ten o'clock," I answered. "But do these people know what is going to happen?" "Oh, it will certainly have got about. A ship is like a village—the lightest whisper is everywhere echoed." "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 pass 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 passed 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. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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