Part 19 (1/2)
”I cannot imagine.”
”Six,” he cried, ”and they're all doing well, too.”
”But I suppose they were all formally married afterwards?”
”No, sir,” said he, misunderstanding me, ”they were not formerly married. They came to me as you and the young lady will, single folks.”
”Have you a special marriage service at sea?”
”The same, word for word, as you have it in the Prayer Book.”
”And when it is read--?” said I, pausing.
”I enter the circ.u.mstance in the official logbook, duly witnessed, and then there you are, much more married than it would delight you to feel if afterwards you should find out you've made a mistake.”
My heart beat fast. Though I never dreamt for an instant of accepting this s.h.i.+pper's offices seriously, yet if the ceremony he performed should be legal it would be a trump card in my hand for any game I might hereafter have to play with Lady Amelia.
”But how,” said I, ”are you to get over the objections to my marriage?”
”What objections? The only objection I see is your not being married already.”
”Why,” said I, ”residence or licence.”
He flourished his hand: ”You're both aboard my s.h.i.+p, aren't ye? That's residence enough for me. As to licence--there's no such thing at sea.
Suppose a couple wanted to get married in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; where's the licence to come from?”
”But how about the consent of the guardian?”
”The lawful guardian isn't here,” he answered, ”the lawful guardian's leagues astern. No use talking of guardians aboard s.h.i.+p. The young lady being in this s.h.i.+p const.i.tutes me her guardian, and it's enough for you that _I_ give my consent.”
His air, as he p.r.o.nounced these words, induced such a fit of laughter, that for several moments I was unable to speak. He appeared to heartily enjoy my merriment, and sat watching me with the broadest of grins.
”I'm glad you take to the notion kindly,” said he. ”I was afraid, with Mrs. Barstow, that you'd create a difficulty.”
”I! Indeed, Captain Parsons, I have nothing in the world else to do, nothing in the world else to think of but to get married. But how about Miss Bella.s.sys?” I added, with a shake of the head. ”What will she have to say to a s.h.i.+pboard wedding?”
”You leave her to Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore,” said he with a nod; ”besides, it's for her to be anxious to get married. Make no mistake, young man. Until she becomes Mrs. Barclay, her situation is by no means what it ought to be.”
”But is it the fact, captain,” I exclaimed, visited by a new emotion of surprise and incredulity, ”that a marriage, celebrated at sea by the captain of a s.h.i.+p, is legal?”
Instead of answering, he counted upon his fingers.
”Three and one are four, and two are six, and two's eight, and three's eleven, and four again's fifteen.” He paused, looking up at me, and exclaimed with as much solemnity as he could impart to his briny voice, ”If it isn't legal, all I can say is, G.o.d help fifteen of as fine a set of children as ever a man could wish to clap eyes on--not counting the twelve parents, that I married. But since you seem to doubt--I wish I had the official log-books containing the entries--tell ye what I'll do!” he exclaimed, and jumped up. ”Do you know Mr. Higginson?”
”A pa.s.senger, I presume?”
”Ay, one of the shrewdest lawyers in New Zealand. I'll send for him, and you shall hear what he says.”
But on putting his head out to call for the steward, he saw Mr.
Higginson sitting at the saloon table reading. Some whispering followed, and they both arrived, the captain carefully shutting the door behind him. Mr. Higginson was a tall, middle-aged man, with a face that certainly looked intellectual enough to inspire one with some degree of confidence in anything he might deliver. He put on a pair of pince-nez gla.s.ses, bowed to me, and took a chair. The captain began awkwardly, abruptly, and in a rumbling voice.