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Marriage at Sea

<h3> CHAPTER XV </h3> <h4> THE END </h4> Time passed, and I was beginning to fear that some engagement prevented Howe and his wife from coming over to us, when, hearing a noise of wheels, I stepped to the window and saw my cousin assisting a lady out of a smart little pony carriage. "Here they are!" I exclaimed to Grace. There was a pause; my darling looked about her with terrified eyes, and I believe she would have rushed from the room but for the apprehension of running into the arms of the visitors as they ascended the staircase. A waiter opened the door, and in stepped Mr. and Mrs. Frank Howe. My cousin and I eagerly shook hands, but nothing could be said or done until the ladies were introduced. I had never before met Mrs. Howe, and found her a fair-haired, pretty woman of some eight-and-twenty years, dressed somewhat "dowdily," to use the ladies' word; but her countenance so beamed with cheerfulness and good-nature that it was only needful to look as her to like her. Frank, on the other hand, was a tall, well-built man of some three-and-thirty, with small side whiskers, deep-set eyes, and a large nose, and teeth so white and regular that it was a pleasure to see him smile. One guessed that whatever special form his Christianity took it would not be wanting in muscularity. He held Grace's hand in both his and seemed to dwell with enjoyment upon her beauty as he addressed her in some warm-hearted sentences. Mrs. Howe kissed her on both cheeks, drew her to the sofa, seated herself by her side, and was instantly voluble and delightful. I took Frank to the window, and with all the brevity possible in such a narrative of adventures as ours, related what had befallen us. He listened with a running commentary of "By Jove!"—"You don't say so,"—"Is it possible?" and other such exclamations, constantly directing glances at Grace, who was now deep in talk with Mrs. Howe, and, as I might know by the expression in her face, excusing her conduct by explaining the motives of it. In fact, even as I talked I could catch such words as "Ma'mselle Championet,"—"the Roman Catholic Priest,"—"Lady Amelia Roscoe's bigotry,"—with one or two other expressions, all giving me to know in what direction their conversation tended. Mrs Howe's air was one of affection and sympathy, as though she had come to my darling with the resolution to love her and to help her. "She is very young, Herbert," said Frank in a low voice. "She is eighteen," I answered. "She is exquisitely beautiful. I cannot wonder at you even if I could have the heart to condemn you. But, is not that a wedding-ring on her finger?" "It is," I answered, looking at him. He looked hard at me in return and exclaimed, "A mere provision against public curiosity, I presume? For surely you are not married?" "I am not so sure of that," I answered; "but my story is not yet ended," and I then told him of the marriage service which had been performed by Captain Parsons on board the ship, Carthusian. "Tut!" cried he, with a decided churchman-like shake of the head when I had made an end, "that's no marriage, man." "I believe it is then," said I, "though, of course, until you unite us we do not consider ourselves man and wife." "I should think not," he exclaimed with vehemence. "What! a plain master of a ship empowered to solemnise holy matrimony? Certainly not. No churchman would hear of such a thing." "Ay, but it's not for the Church, it's the affair of the law. If the law says it's all right the Church is bound to regard it as right." "Certainly not," he cried, and was proceeding, but I interrupted him by repeating that we had consented to be married by Captain Parsons in the forlorn hope that the contract might be binding. "But without banns?—without licence?—without the consent of the young lady's guardians? No! no!" he cried, "you are not married. But it is highly desirable," he added, with a look at Grace, "that you should get married without delay. And so what do you propose to do? "Well, time may be saved by your publishing the banns at once, Frank." "Yes, but you must first obtain the guardian's consent." "Oh, confound it!" I cried, "I did not know that. I believed the banns could be published whilst the consent was being worked for." He mused awhile, eyeing his wife and Grace, who continued deep in conversation, and then, after a considerable pause, exclaimed: "There is nothing to be done but this; we must revert to your original scheme; Miss Bellassys—" "Call her Grace," said I. "Well, Grace must come and stay with us." I nodded, for that I had intended all along. "I will find a lodging for you in the village." I nodded again. "Meanwhile—this very day, indeed—you must sit down and write to Lady Amelia Roscoe, saying all that your good sense can suggest, and taking your chance, as you have put it, of the appeal your association with her niece will make to her ladyship's worldly vanity and to her perceptions as a woman of society." "All that you are saying," I exclaimed, "I had long ago resolved on, and you will find this scheme as you have put it almost word for word in the letter in which I told you of my plans and asked you to marry us." "Yes, I believe my recommendations are not original," said he. "There is something more to suggest, however. If Lady Amelia will send Grace her consent, why wait for the banns to be published? Why not procure a licence? It is due to Grace," said he, sinking his voice and sending a look of admiration at her, "that you should make her your wife as speedily as possible. "Yes, yes. I have heard that said before. I have been a good deal advised on this head. My dear fellow, only consider. Would not I make her my wife this instant if you will only consent to marry us?" He laughed and turned from me, and addressed Grace, and presently the four of us were busily talking. By this time my darling had regained some degree of confidence; her eyes were bright, her cheeks wore a little glow, there was nothing of embarrassment in her smile or general air as she addressed my cousin or met his gaze. In fact, the talk with Mrs. Howe had done her a deal of good. Her fears had foreboded a sort of Hannah More like view of things in Frank's wife—an easy capacity of recoiling and of being frosted from head to foot by such behaviour as that of an elopement; and she had no doubt that if Mrs. Howe took her to her home and showed her some kindness, her conduct would be a mere effusion of parochial sensibility; it would be her duty—her duty as a clergyman's wife, and she would not do less for a servant-maid that had run away with a grocer's assistant. This, I say, had been my sweetheart's apprehension, but a few minutes' chat had corrected it, and she could now look with happiness and friendship at the amiable and pretty, if dowdy, woman who was seated at her side, and attend without any further appearance of constraint than what one would expect to find in so young and girlish a character to the kindly, graceful, warm-hearted conversation of my cousin Frank. The pony and trap had been sent round to some adjacent stables, but by seven o'clock we had made all necessary arrangements, and the vehicle was again brought to the door. Grace was to be the guest of my cousin and his wife until we heard from Lady Amelia Roscoe. I should sleep at the hotel that night, and next day take possession of the best lodgings Frank could procure for me in his little parish. It was also settled that next day Sophie—for that was Mrs. Howe's Christian name—should come to Penzance with Grace and purchase all that was immediately needful in the shape of wearing apparel, and so on. "I shall to-night," said I, "write to Mademoiselle Championet and request her to send your boxes, Grace." "Wait until you hear from Lady Amelia," said Frank. "She may quarrel with mademoiselle and refuse to pay her, in which case mademoiselle will have a lien upon the luggage and stick to it." I laughed and exclaimed, "There is no hurry," and then after taking Grace in my arms and straining her to my heart, as though we were about to part for ever and ever, and after much cordial handshaking with Frank and his wife, I accompanied the three of them downstairs, saw them into the pony-carriage, and when they had driven off, returned to write a letter to Lady Amelia Roscoe. It is some years now since all this happened. I have no copy of that letter, and my memory is not strong in points of this sort. I recollect, however, after making several attempts, that I produced something which was brief almost to abruptness, and that it satisfied me as on the whole very well put, not wanting in a quality of what I might term mild brutality, for this was an element I could not very well manage without having regard to what I had to ask and to what I had to tell. And let this reference to that letter suffice, though I must add that I took care to enclose a copy of Captain Parsons' certificate of our marriage, with the names of those who had signed it, affirming that the marriage was good in point of law, as she might easily assure herself by consulting her solicitors, and also acquainting her in no doubtful terms that the wedding-ring was on Grace's finger and that we regarded ourselves as husband and wife. I had scarcely despatched this letter when Caudel was announced. He stood in the doorway, cap in hand, knuckling his forehead and backing a bit with a rolling gait, after the custom of the British merchant sailor. "Well, Mr. Barclay, sir, and how are ye again? And how's the young lady after all these here traverses?" I bade him sit down, pulled the bell for a glass of grog for him, and asked for news of the Spitfire. "Well, sir," he answered, "she's just what I've come to talk to ye about. She'd started a butt as I all along thought, otherwise she's as sound as a bell. There was a shipwright as came down to look at her, and he asked me what we was going to do. I told him that I didn't think the gent as owned her meant to repair her. 'I rather fancy,' I says, says I, feeling my way, 'that he wants to sell her.' 'How much do 'ee ask, d'ye know?' says he, looking at the little dandy. 'I'm sure I can't answer that,' says I, 'but dessay he'll accept any reasonable offer.' Says he, 'May I view her?' 'Sartinly,' I says, says I. He thoroughly overhauled her inside and out, and then, says he, 'I believe I knows a customer for this here craft. Suppose you go and larn what the gentleman wants, and let me know. You'll find me at—' and here he names a public-house." "Get what you can for her, Caudel," I answered; "the more the better for those to whom the money will go. For my part, as you know, I consider her as at the bottom, but since you've pulled her through I'll ask you to pack up certain articles which are on board; the cabin clock, the plate, my books," and I named a few other items of the little craft's internal furniture. Well, he sat with me for half-an-hour talking over the dandy and our adventures, then left me, and I went into the town to make a few necessary purchases, missing the society of my darling as though I had lost my right arm; indeed, I felt so wretched without her that, declining the landlord's invitation to join a select circle of Penzance wits over whom he was in the habit of presiding in the evening in a smoking-room full of the vapour of tobacco and the steam of hot rum and whisky, I went to bed at nine o'clock, and may say that I did not sleep the less soundly for missing the heave of the ocean. Next morning shortly after breakfast Frank arrived to drive me over to ——. Until we were clear of the town he could talk of nothing but Grace, how sweet she was, how exquisite her breeding, how gentle. All this was as it should be, and I heard him with delight. "But I want you to understand, Herbert, that my conscience never could have suffered me to countenance this elopement but for Lady Amelia's efforts—underhand efforts I must say—to procure her niece's perversion." "Oh, I quite understand that," I exclaimed. "She informs me that both her father and mother were Protestants." "That is so." "We have a right then to assume, as I put it to her in talking the matter over last night, that were they living they would still be Protestants and would wish their child to remain in our Church. She herself has not the slightest leaning towards Roman Catholicism. Undoubtedly her aunt's conduct is without justification. She was to be rescued, as I understood from your letter from a species of persuasion which a girl of her years and temperament might not long be able to resist. The remedy lay in this elopement. I am sorry to have to say it; but the case is altogether a peculiar one; and I, Herbert, speaking as a clergyman, cannot find it in me to pronounce against you both." "If an elopement had made a Roman Catholic of her, her aunt would have been willing," said I. "No doubt, no doubt. Here," said he, putting the reins into my hands, "hold these for a moment or two, Herbert. You recollect that yesterday I pooh-poohed your opinion that a marriage at sea may be a lawful ceremony?" He pulled out a pocket-book and searched it whilst he continued to talk. "My wife's uncle was old Admiral Clements, and at his death a number of his books came to us. We were talking last evening about the marriage on board the Carthusian, when Sophie suddenly exclaimed, 'Frank, I believe I know where the record of a marriage at sea is to be found.' She sat pondering and puzzling awhile, then stepped to the bookcase and exclaimed, 'This will be it, I am sure.' She pulled out a volume of memoirs of Admiral Markham, and after hunting through it, read what I have here copied for your special behoof, Herbert. 'Bessie was Elizabeth, eldest daughter of the Dean of York, the Archbishop's third son. She was born August 28th, 1790. Josephine was the French young lady adopted by the Archbishop's family. Both girls were then seventeen and devotedly attached to each other. After the Archbishop's death they were not parted but lived with his widow. On August 30th, 1815, Bessie was married to a crusty old general named Rufane Donkin and was to go out to India with him. But she could not bear to be separated from her friend, so it was arranged that Josephine should accompany her. General Donkin was of a very jealous disposition and could not endure his wife liking anything or anybody but himself. On board the ship he began to treat her young friend with discourtesy, and at last with such brutality that it excited the indignation of both captain and passengers. Among the latter there was a young officer, named Chadwick, whose pity for the forlorn girl grew into love. He entreated her to marry him that he might have the right to protect her. At last she consented, and the marriage ceremony was performed during the voyage by Captain Haviside, the captain of the ship." He replaced the pocket-book, took the reins from me, and we stared at each other. "Well," said I, bestowing an exultant nod upon him, "that looks ship-shape enough, doesn't it? as Admiral Clements would have said." "They were probably re-married," said he. "That remains to be proved," I rejoined. "It certainly shakes me in my views," he exclaimed. "Still, it seems truly iniquitous that unconsecrated hands—such a person as a ship's captain—should enjoy the privileges of a priest." "He can christen." "No!" he shouted. This discussion was only terminated by our arrival at his house; the most delightful little parsonage that can be imagined: a snug, green, nestling box to the eye, yet quite equal to the requirements of the large family which this mild and happy couple bade fair to encumber themselves with. The church was within a short walk, an aged, ivy-clad structure, with many noble trees round about it, and a yard full of ancient, leaning indecipherable, memorial stones. Grace was awaiting our arrival that she might drive with Sophie to Penzance on her shopping errands. We embraced as though we had not met for years. I said to her: "Now you are satisfied that you are my wife?" "No," she cried, holding up her left hand from which she had removed the wedding-ring; then producing it from her pocket, she added, "Keep it till you can put it on properly." This damped me, and my face showed some annoyance. I honestly believed her to be my wife, willing as I was that Frank should presently confirm the ceremony that Captain Parsons had performed, and her removal of the ring was a sort of shock to me, though, to be sure, my good sense told me that if there was any virtue whatever in our shipboard union it was not to be weakened by my carrying the ring instead of her wearing it. She stood gazing at me in her loving, girlish way for a moment, then observing disappointment, slipped her fingers into my waistcoat pocket, pulled out the ring, and put it on again. I kissed her for that, and though Frank shook his head, Sophie said, "If Grace is really married, as I believe her to be after what Frank read, then she is perfectly in the right to do what her husband wishes." But to make an end, seeing that but little more remains to be told. It was four days after our arrival at —— that I drove Grace over to Penzance to enable her to keep an appointment with her dressmaker. Caudel still hung about the quaint old town. He had sent me a rude, briny scrawl, half the words looking as though they had been smeared out by his little finger, and the others as if they had been written by his protruded tongue, in which he said, in spelling beyond expression wonderful, that he had brought the shipwright to terms, and wished to see me. I left Grace at the dressmaker's and walked to the address where Caudel said I should find him. He looked highly soaped and polished, his hair shone like his boots, and he wore a new coat, with several fathoms of spotted kerchief wound round about his throat. After we had exchanged a few sentences of greeting and goodwill, he addressed me thus: "Your honour gave me leave to do the best I could with the dandy. Well, Mr. Barclay, sir, this is what I've done and here's the money." He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers, which buttoned up square as a Dutchman's stern, after the fashion that is long likely to remain popular with men of the Caudel breed, and pulling out a large chamois leather bag, he extracted from it a quantity of banknotes, very worn, greasy and crumpled, and some sovereigns and shillings, which looked as if they had been stowed away in an old stocking since the beginning of the century. He surveyed me with a gaze of respectful triumph, perhaps watching for some expression of astonishment. "How much have you there, Caudel?" "You'll scarcely credit it, sir," said he, grinning. "But how much, man, how much?" "One hundred and seventy-three pounds, fourteen shillun', as I'm a man," cried he, smiting the table with his immense fist. I smiled, for though I had bought the dandy cheap, she had cost me a very great deal more, by the time she was fit to go afloat in, than Caudel had received for her. But Grace was not to be kept waiting, and I rose. "You will give what you think fair to the boy Bobby, Caudel." He looked at me stupidly. "Did not I tell you," said I, "that what the dandy fetched was to be yours, and that something of it was to go to the boy? As to those who deserted you, they may call upon me for their wages, but they'll get no more." He seemed overwhelmed, and indeed his astonishment surprised me, for I had imagined my intentions with regard to the yacht were well known to him. I cut short the worthy fellow's thanks by assuring him that my gratitude for his services at Boulogne and for his behaviour throughout the whole delicate business was not to be expressed by five times the amount that lay upon the table; and then telling him to let me hear of him when Miss Bellassys and I were married and settled, and promising, should I ever go yachting again, to offer him the command of my vessel, I wrung his hand and ran out, pursued by twenty "God bless ye, sirs." Grace and I returned to —— somewhere about four o'clock, having lunched at Penzance. We alighted at the vicarage and entered the fragrant little dining-room. My cousin and his wife were sitting waiting for us. Sophie, on our entrance, started up and cried: "Grace, here is a letter for you. I believe it is from your aunt." My darling turned white, and I was sensible of growing very nearly as pale as she. Her hand trembled as she took the letter; she eyed me piteously, seemed to make an effort to break the envelope, then extending it to me said, "I dare not read it." I instantly tore it open, read it to myself once, then aloud: "Lady Amelia Roscoe begs to inform her niece that she washes her hands of her. She wishes never to see nor to hear of her again. So far as Lady Amelia Roscoe's consent goes, her niece is at liberty to do what she likes and go where she likes. Any further communication which Lady Amelia's niece may require to make must be addressed to her ladyship's solicitors, Messrs. Fox & Wyndall, Lincoln's Inn Fields." "Thank Heaven!" I exclaimed, drawing the deepest breath I had ever fetched in my life. "Now, Herbert, I am at your service," exclaimed Frank. Grace was crying, and Sophie, giving her husband and me a reassuring look, with sisterly gentleness took my darling's arm, and led her out of the room. <HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> Needless to say that in due course we were married, or rather let me say, re-married. But this said, the brief incident I have endeavoured to relate—the story of the elopement—ends. Down to this present moment of writing, however, I have been unable to find out whether I was or whether I was not legitimately, validly, lawfully, made a husband of by Captain Parsons. I have put the question to solicitors; I have written to shipowners and to shipbrokers, to captains and to mates, to shipping papers, and to a variety of marine authorities, such as dock superintendents, Board of Trade officials, and nautical assessors, but to no purpose. A great many "fancy" that a shipboard marriage is "all right," but nobody is certain. What have the readers of this narrative to say? Is there any one amongst them who can speak with authority? I submit that it is a point which ought to be settled. Legislation should put an end to doubt. Could I have felt sure on the subject, I should have been spared a great deal of anxiety. That marriages have taken place at sea is beyond question; the offspring of these unions must be numerous. Are they legitimate? Many colonials should feel concerned in the question, and I trust yet to receive some definite information on the matter one way or the other. <h3> POSTSCRIPT </h3> Since this story was written, I find that the Rev. Thomas Moore, Rector of All-hallows-the-Great, late Surrogate in the Diocese of Canterbury, in a useful little work on the British and foreign laws of marriage, entitled, "How to be Married,"[1] writes of marriages on board merchant vessels, that "There is no statutory provision for these. But the requirements of the Merchant Shipping Act, 1854, Section 282, providing for their proper registration in the Diocesan Registry of London, assume that they may take place." In a letter addressed to the author, Mr. Moore says: "I may say, that to constitute the validity of such marriages, which I take for granted would be marriages of emergency, the presence of a clergyman or minister would not be required, and is not contemplated. It would be sufficient that the captain of the ship officiated and made a record of the marriage. He ought, however, to report it to the proper authority as soon as possible at the end of the voyage. Such marriages, though legal, are rare." [1] Published by Griffith and Farran. <H6 ALIGN="center"> Printed in Great Britain by Wyman & Sons, Ltd., London and Reading. </H6> <hr> <h3> Uniform with this Volume </h3> 1 The Mighty Atom Marie Corelli 2 Jane Marie Corelli 3 Boy Marie Corelli 4 Spanish Gold G. A. Birmingham 6 Teresa of Watling street Arnold Bennett 9 The Unofficial Honeymoon Dolf Wyllarde 18 Round the Red Lamp Sir A. Conan Doyle 20 Light Freights W. W. Jacobs 22 The Long Road John Oxenham 71 The Gates of Wrath Arnold Bennett 81 The Card Arnold Bennett 87 Lalage's Lovers G. A. Birmingham 92 White Fang Jack London 108 The Adventures of Dr. Whitty G. A. Birmingham 113 Lavender and Old Lace Myrtle Reed 125 The Regent Arnold Bennett 129 The Lodger Mrs. Belloc Lowndes 135 A Spinner in the Sun Myrtle Reed 137 The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer 140 The Love Pirate C. N. and A. M. Williamson 143 Sandy Married Dorothea Conyers 150 The Gentleman Adventurer H. C. Bailey 190 The Happy Hunting Ground Mrs. Alice Perrin 211 Max Carrados Ernest Bramah 212 Under Western Eyes Joseph Conrad 215 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo E. Phillips Oppenheim 217 A Weaver of Dreams Myrtle Reed 220 A Heritage of Peril A. W. Marchmont 224 Broken Shackles John Oxenham 225 A Knight of Spain Marjorie Bowen 227 Byeways Robert Hichens 230 The Salving of a Derelict Maurice Drake 231 Cameos Marie Corelli 232 The Happy Valley B. M. Croker 260 At the Sign of the Jack o' Lantern Myrtle Reed 259 Anthony Cuthbert Richard Bagot 252 The Golden Barrier Agnes and Egerton Castle 262 Devoted Sparkes W. Pett Ridge 256 Two Women Max Pemberton 261 Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs 264 Vengeance is Mine Andrew Balfour 268 His Island Princess W. Clark Russell 269 The Two Marys Mrs. Oliphant 270 Demeter's Daughter Eden Phillpotts 271 The Supreme Crime Dorothea Gerard 274 The Glad Heart E. Maria Albanesi 275 Secret History C. N. and A. M. Williamson 276 Mary All-alone John Oxenham 277 Darneley Place Richard Bagot 278 The Desert Trail Dane Coolidge 279 The War Wedding C. N. and A. M. Williamson 280 Royal Georgie S. Baring-Gould 281 Because of these Things Marjorie Bowen 282 Mrs. Peter Howard Mary E. Mann 283 The Yellow Diamond Adeline Sergeant 288 A Great Man Arnold Bennett 289 The Rest Cure W. B. Maxwell A short Selection only. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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