Part 26 (1/2)
”I don't know if I'm right in calling you _sir_?” he exclaimed; ”I didn't rightly catch your name.”
”My name is Mr. Herbert Barclay.”
”Thank ye, sir. I was going to say if you and her ladys.h.i.+p--”
”No, not her ladys.h.i.+p,” I interrupted, guessing that the fellow, having caught the name of Lady Amelia Roscoe, was confounding Grace with that t.i.tle; but here I broke off, with a conscious look, I fear, for I could not speak of my sweetheart as Miss Bella.s.sys with that ring on her finger, nor would it have been safe to talk of her as my wife either: in her presence, at all events, for she had the most sweet ingenuous face imaginable, through which every mood and thought peeped, and Captain Verrion's eyes seemed somewhat shrewd.
”I was going to say, sir,” he proceeded, ”that you're welcome to any of the sleeping berths you may have a mind to. If you will take your choice I'll have the beds got ready.”
The berths were aft--mere boxes, each with a little bunk, but all fitted so as to correspond in point of costliness with the furniture of the living or state room. We chose the two foremost berths as being the farthest of the sleeping places from the crew; and this matter being ended, and after declining Captain Verrion's very civil offer of refreshments, we returned to the deck.
The steamer was thras.h.i.+ng through it at an exhilarating speed. The long blue Atlantic surge came briming and frothing to her quarter, giving her a lift at times that set the propeller racing, but the clean-edged, frost-like band of wake streamed far astern, where in the liquid blue of the afternoon that way hung the star-coloured cloths of the _Carthusian_, a leaning shaft, resembling a spire of ice.
”Bless me!” I cried, ”how we have widened our distance! When a man falls overboard with what hideous rapidity must his s.h.i.+p appear to glide away from him!”
”Is it not delightful to be independent of the wind, Herbert?”
exclaimed Grace, as she took my arm.
”Yes, but consider the beauty of a tower of canvas compared to that yellow chimney pot,” said I. ”The _Carthusian_!” I added, sending my glance at the distant airy gleam; ”we shall never forget her. Yet she seems but a phantom s.h.i.+p too; some sea vision of one's sleep, so quickly has it all happened, and so astonis.h.i.+ng what has happened. But _has_ old Parsons made us man and wife?”
She shook her head.
”That cabin wedding this morning,” I continued, ”ought to be a fact if all the rest is a dream. But you must go on wearing that ring, Grace, and since it is on I shall have to call you Mrs. Barclay. Don't go and pull it off now. I saw this captain fasten his eye upon it, and we must be one thing or the other, my sweet.”
”Oh, anything to please you, Herbert,” she replied, pouting as was her custom when she was not of my mind; ”but try to call me Mrs. Barclay as seldom as possible.”
Thus we chatted as we walked the deck. We had the afterpart of the little s.h.i.+p entirely to ourselves; the captain came and went, but never offered to approach. There was a mate as I supposed, a man without a gold band to his cap, but with b.u.t.tons to his coat, who replaced the skipper on the bridge when he quitted it. Owing to deck structures, funnel-casing and the like, I could see but little of the forward part of the yacht; but such men as showed seldom glanced aft, and then with such an air of respect as was excessively refres.h.i.+ng after the narrow, inquiring and continuous inspection we had been honoured with aboard the _Carthusian_. The quietude of a man-of-war was in the life of the yacht; the seamen spoke low; if ever one of them smoked a pipe he kept himself out of sight with it. In fact, it was like being aboard one's own vessel, and now that we were fairly going home, being driven towards the English Channel at a steady pace of some twelve or thirteen knots in the hour by the steady resistless thrust of the propeller, we could find heart to abandon ourselves to every delightful sensation born of the sweeping pa.s.sage of the beautiful steamer, to every emotion inspired by each other's society, and by the free, boundless, n.o.ble prospect of dark blue waters that was spread around us.
We were uninterrupted till five o'clock. The captain then advanced, and saluting us with as much respect as if we had been the earl and his lady, he inquired if we would have tea served in the cabin. I answered that we should be very glad of a cup of tea; but that he was to give himself no trouble; the simplest fare he could put before us we should feel as grateful for as if he sat us down to a mansion house dinner.
He said that the steward had been left ash.o.r.e at Madeira, but that a sailor, who knew what to do as a waiter, would attend upon us.
”Who would suppose, Grace,” said I, when we were alone, ”that the ocean was so hospitable? Figure us finding ourselves ash.o.r.e in such a condition as was our lot when we thought the _Spitfire_ sinking under us--in other words, _in want_! At how many houses might we have knocked without getting shelter or the offer of a meal? This is like being made welcome in Grosvenor Square, and you may compare the _Carthusian_ to a fine mansion in Bayswater.”
”I have had quite enough of the sea, Herbert,” she answered. ”Its hospitality is not to my taste; and yet, if you owned such a steamer as this, I believe I should be willing to make a voyage in her with you when we are married.”
I let this pa.s.s, holding that I had already said enough as to the legitimacy of our s.h.i.+pboard union.
And now what follows I need not be very minute in relating. The captain contrived for ”tea,” as he called it, as excellent a meal as we could have wished for; white biscuit, good b.u.t.ter, bananas, a piece of virgin corned-beef, and preserved milk to put into our tea. What better fare could one ask for? I had a pipe and tobacco with me, and as I walked the deck in the evening with my darling, I had never felt happier.
It was a rich autumn evening; the wind had slackened and was now a light air, and we lingered on deck long after the light had faded in the western sky, leaving the still young moon s.h.i.+ning brightly over the sea, across whose dark, wrinkled, softly-heaving surface ran the wake of the speeding yacht, in a line like a pathway traversing a boundless moor.
We pa.s.sed one or two shadowy s.h.i.+ps, picking them up and then dropping them with a velocity, that to our homeward-yearning hearts was exceedingly soothing and comforting. Then, when the strong, continuous sweep of the breeze raised by the pa.s.sage of the steamer grew too strong for Grace, we descended into the cabin, where our sailor attendant, lighted the fine chandelier or candelabra, and Grace and I sat in splendour, our forms reflected in the mirrors, everything visible as by sunlight, though there must have been some magic above the art of the sun in those soft pencils of light flowing from the centre-piece of oil-flames; for never before had I observed in my darling so delicate and tender a bloom of complexion; her hair, too, seemed to gather a deeper richness of dye, and her eyes--
But, enough of such parish talk; though I know not why a lover should not be as fully privileged to celebrate his sweetheart's perfection in prose, as a poet is in verse. It is a matter of custom rather than of taste. Dante might have praised his Beatrice, Waller his Sacharissa, Horace and Prior their Chloes, and a very great many other gentlemen a very great many other ladies in prose sentences, quite as fine and true to the understanding as their verse. But would they have found readers? It is this consideration that makes me take a hurried leave of Grace's eyes.
CHAPTER XIV
HOMEWARD BOUND
I heartily appreciated the Earl of ----'s theory of sea-beds when I sprang into my narrow shelf of bunk, and found myself buoyant on some very miracle of spring mattress. I slept as soundly as one who sleeps to wake no more; but on going on deck some little while before the breakfast was served, I was grievously disappointed to find a wet day.