nothing was said about the marriage.
the privacy of the affair lay as a sort of obligation of silence upon the kindly-natured passengers, and though, as i have said, they could not keep their eyes off us, their conversation was studiedly remote from the one topic about which we were all thinking. lunch was almost ended when i spied the second mate peering down at us through the glass of the sky-light, and in a few minutes he descended the cabin ladder, and said something in a low voice to the captain.
"by george, grace!" said i, grasping her hand as it lay on her lap, and whipping out with the notion put into me by a look i caught from the captain. "i believe the second mate has come down to report a ship in sight."
she started, and turned eagerly in the direction of the captain, who had quickly given the mate his orders, for already the man had returned on deck.
mrs. barstow, seated close to the captain, nodded at us, and parsons himself sung out quietly down the table:
"i believe, mr. and mrs. barclay, this will be your last meal aboard the carthusian."
i sprang with excitement to my feet.
"anything in sight, captain?"
"ay, a steamer—apparently a yacht. plenty of time," added he, rising, nevertheless, leisurely as he spoke, on which all the passengers broke from the table—so speedily dull grows the sea-life, so quickly do people learn how to make much of the most trivial incidents upon the ocean—and in a few moments we were all on deck.
"yes, by jove, grace, there she is, sure enough!" cried i, standing at the side with my darling and pointing forward, where, still some miles distant, a point or two on the starboard bow, was a steamer, showing very small indeed at the extremity of the long, far-reaching line of smoke that was pouring from her. a passenger handed me a telescope; i levelled it, and then clearly distinguished a yacht-like structure, with a yellow funnel, apparently schooner-rigged, with a sort of sparkling about her hull, whether from gilt, or brass, or glass, that instantly suggested the pleasure vessel.
it was still the same bright, joyous day that had shone over us all the morning. the sea was of a dark, rich blue, and the run of it cradle-like, with a summer-day lightness and grace in the arching and breaking of the surge. the ship, aslant in the wind, was sailing finely, with a slow, regular, stately swing of her towering fabric of canvas to windward, as she softly rolled on the floating slant of the seas. turning my face aft, i saw the second mate and an apprentice, or midshipman in buttons, in the act of hoisting a string of colours to the gaff-end. the flags soared in a graceful semi-circle, and the whole ship looked brave in a breath with the pulling of the many-dyed bunting, each flag delicate as gossamer against the blue of the sky, and the whole show of the deepest interest as the language of the sea—as the ship's own voice!
had we been cast away, and in the direst peril, i could scarcely have awaited the approach of that steamer with more breathless expectation. where was she bound to? would she receive us? should we accept her offer to take us aboard, though she might be heading to some port wide of the place we desired to reach, such as ireland or the north of scotland? i could think of nothing else. the captain stood aft watching her, now and again lifting the ship's glass to his eye; the forecastle was loaded with steerage passengers all staring forward; the poop too looked full; the very stewards had left the saloon to peer; the cook had quitted his galley, and the jacks had "knocked-off," as they call it, from the sundry jobs on which they were engaged, as though awaiting the order to bring the main topsail to the mast.
i approached the captain with grace's hand under my arm.
"she has her answering pennant flying," he exclaimed, letting fall his glass to accost me, and he called to the second mate to haul down our signal. "i believe she will receive you, mr. barclay. she's a gentleman's yacht, and a fine boat at that. so much the better. after the carthusian," he added, with a proud look at his noble ship, "i dare say you mightn't have found the first thing we fell in with perfectly agreeable."
"where do you think she's bound, captain?"
"i should say undoubtedly heading for the english channel," he answered.
"there should be no difficulty in transferring us, i think," said i, with a glance at the sea.
"bless me, no," he answered, "get her close to leeward, and the ship'll make a breakwater for mrs. barclay."
"captain parsons, what can i say that will in any measure express my gratitude to you? may i take it that a letter addressed to you to the care of the owners of the carthusian will be sure to reach you on your return?"
"oh, yes. but never you mind about that. what i've done has given me pleasure, and i hope that you'll both live long, and that neither of you by a single look or word will ever cause the other to regret that you fell into the hands of captain parsons of the good ship carthusian."
grace gave him a sweet smile. now that it seemed we were about to leave his ship she could gaze at him without alarm. he broke from its to deliver an order to the second mate, who re-echoed his command in a loud shout. in a moment a number of sailors came racing aft and fell to rounding-in, as it is called, upon the main and main-top sailbraces with loud and hearty songs, which were re-echoed out of the white hollows aloft and combined with the splashing noise of waters and the small music of the wind in the rigging into a true ocean concert for the ear. the machinery of the braces brought the sails on the main to the wind; the ship's way was almost immediately arrested, and she lay quietly sinking and rising with a sort of hush of expectation along her decks, which nothing disturbed save the odd farmyard-like sounds of the live stock somewhere forward.
the steamer was now rapidly approaching us, and by this time without the aid of a glass i made her out to be a fine screw yacht of some three hundred and fifty tons, painted black, with a yellow funnel forward of amidships, which gave her the look of a gunboat. she had a charthouse, or some such structure near her bridge, that was very liberally glazed, and blinding flashes leapt from the panes of glass as she rolled to and from the sun as though she were quickly firing cannon charged with soundless and smokeless gunpowder. a figure paced the filament of bridge that was stretched before her funnel. he wore a gold band round his hat and brass buttons on his coat. two or three men leaned over the head rail viewing us as they approached, but her quarter-deck was deserted. i could find no hint of female apparel or of the blue serge of the yachtsman.
old parsons, taking his stand at the rail clear of the crowd, waited until the yacht floated abreast, where with a few reverse revolutions of her propeller she came to a stand within easy talking distance—as handsome and finished a model as ever i had seen afloat.
"ho, the yacht, ahoy!" shouted captain parsons.
"hallo!" responded the glittering figure from the bridge, manifestly the yacht's skipper.
"what yacht is that?"
"the mermaid."
"where are you from and where are you bound to?"
"from madeira for southampton," came back the response.
"that will do, grace," cried i, joyfully.
"we took a lady and a gentleman off their yacht, the spitfire, that we found in a leaky condition yesterday," shouted parsons, "having been dismasted in a gale and blown out of the channel. we have them aboard. will you receive them and set them ashore?"
"how many more besides them, sir?" bawled the master of the yacht.
"no more—them two only," and parsons pointed to grace and me, who stood conspicuous, near the main rigging.
"ay, ay, sir; we'll receive 'em. will you send your boat?"
captain parsons flourished his hand in token of acquiescence; but he stood near enough to enable me to catch a few growling sentences, referring to the laziness of yachtsmen, which he hove at the twinkling figure through his teeth in language which certainly did not accord with his priestly tendencies.
there was no luggage to pack, no parcels to hunt for, nothing for me to do but leave grace a minute, whilst i rushed below to fee the stewards. so much confusion attended our transference that my recollection of what took place is vague. i remember that the second mate was incessantly shouting out orders, until one of the ship's quarter boats, with several men in her, had been fairly lowered to the water's edge, and brought to the gangway, over which some steps had been thrown. i also remember once again shaking captain parsons most cordially by the hand, thanking him effusively for his kindness and wishing him and his ship all possible good-luck under the heavens. the passengers crowded round us and wished us good-bye, and i saw mrs. barstow slip a little parcel into grace's hand, and whisper a few words; whereupon they kissed each other with the warmth of old friends.
mr. m'cosh stood at the gangway, and i asked him to distribute the twenty-pound bank note i handed to him amongst the crew of the boat that had taken us from the spitfire; i further requested that the second mate, taking his proportion which i left entirely to the discretion of mr. m'cosh, would purchase some trifle of pin or ring by which to remember us.
grace was then handed into the boat—a ticklish business to the eyes of a landsman, but performed with amazing despatch and ease by the rough seaman who passed her over and received her. i followed, watching my chance, and in a few moments the oars were out and the boat making for the yacht, that lay within musket shot. she was rolling, however, faster and so much more heavily than the big iron ship, that the job of getting on board her was heightened into a kind of peril. i should never have imagined merely by looking down on the water from the height of the carthusian's rail how strong was the atlantic surge—blue, summer-like and beautiful with its lacery of froth, as it showed from the altitude of the ship's deck. it came to grace being lifted bodily over the side by a couple of the yachtsman, who each grasped her hand. i was similarly helped up, and was not a little thankful to find ourselves safe on the solid deck of the steamer after the egg-shell-like tossing of the ship's quarter-boat alongside.
we were received by the captain of the yacht, a fellow with a face that reminded me somewhat of caudel, of a countenance and bearing much too sailorly to be rendered ridiculous by his livery of gold band and buttons. but before i could address him old parsons hailed to give him the name of the carthusian and to request him to report the ship, and he ran on to the bridge to answer. i could look at nothing just then but the ship. of all sea pieces i never remember the like of that for beauty. we were to leeward of her, and she showed us the milk-white bosoms of her sails, that flashed out in silver brilliance to the sunlight through sheer force of the contrast of the vivid red of her water-line as it was lifted out of the yeast and then plunged again by the rolling of the craft. large soft clouds resembling puffs of steam sailed over her waving mast-heads, where a gilt vane glowed like a streak of fire against the blue of the sky between the clouds.
a full-rigged ship never looks more majestic i think than when she is hove to under all plain sail, that is, when all canvas but stun'sails is piled upon her and her main topsail is to the mast, with the great main course hauled up to the yard and windily swaying in festoons. she is then like a noble mare reined in; her very hawse pipes seem to grow large like the nostrils of some nervous creature impatiently sniffing the air; she bows the sea as though informed with a spirit of fire that maddens her to leap the surge, and to rush forward once more in music and in thunder, in giddy shearing and in long floating plunges on the wings of the wind. never does a ship show so much as a thing of life as when she is thus restrained.
but the boat had now gained the tall fabric's side; the tackles had been hooked into her, and even whilst she was soaring to the davits the great main topsail yard of the carthusian came slowly round, and the sails to the royal filled. at the same moment i was sensible of a pulsation in the deck on which we were standing; the engines had been started, and in a few beats of the heart the carthusian was on our quarter, breaking the sea under her bow as the long, slender, metal hull leaned to the weight of the high and swelling canvas.
i pulled off my hat and flourished it, grace waved her handkerchief, a hearty cheer swept down to us, not only from the passengers assembled on the poop but also from the crowds who watched us from the forecastle and from the line of the bulwark rails, and for some minutes every figure was in motion, as the people gesticulated their farewells to us.
"act the fourth!" said i, bringing my eyes to grace's face. "one more act and then over goes the show, as the cockneys say."
"aren't you glad to be here, herbert?"
"i could kneel, my duck. but how good those people are! how well they have behaved! such utter strangers as we are to them! what did mrs. barstow give you?"
she put her hand in her pocket, opened the little parcel, and produced an indian bracelet, a wonderfully cunning piece of work in gold.
"upon my word!" cried i.
"how kind of her!" exclaimed grace, with her eyes sparkling, though i seemed to catch a faint note of tears in her voice. "i shall always remember dear mrs. barstow."
"and what yacht is this?" said i, casting my eyes around. "a beautiful little ship indeed. how exquisitely white are these planks! what money, by george! in everything the eye rests upon!"
the master, who had remained on the bridge to start the yacht, now approached. he saluted us with the respectful air of a man used to fine company, but i instantly observed, on his glancing at grace, that his eye rested upon the wedding ring.
"i presume you are the captain?" said i.
"i am, sir."
"pray, what name?"
"john verrion, sir."
"well, captain verrion, i must first of all thank you heartily for receiving us. i had to abandon my yacht, the spitfire, yesterday. we were nearly sunk by a hurricane of wind, but the men believed they could keep her afloat and carry her home. they would have their way, and i heartily pray they are safe, though they cannot yet have made a port. is the owner of this vessel aboard?"
"no, sir. she belongs to the earl of ——. his lordship's been left at madeira. he changed his mind and stopped at madeira—him and the countess, and a party of three that was along with them—and sent the yacht home."
"then there is nobody aboard except the crew?"
"nobody, sir."
"i have not the honour of his lordship's acquaintance," said i, "but i think, grace," i exclaimed, turning towards her, not choosing to speak of her as "this lady," whilst she wore the wedding ring, not to call her "my wife" either, "that he is a distant connection of your aunt, lady amelia roscoe."
"i don't know, herbert," she answered.
"anyway," said i, "it is a great privilege to be received by such a vessel as this."
"his lordship 'ud wish me to do everything that's right, sir," said captain verrion. "i'll have a cabin got ready for you, but as to meals—" he paused, and added awkwardly, "i'm afraid there's nothen aboard but plain yachting fare, sir."
"oh, we have been shipwrecked—we are now accustomed to the privations of the sea—anything that our teeth can meet in will do for us, captain!" i exclaimed, laughing. "when do you hope to reach southampton?"
"monday afternoon, sir."
"a little more than two days," i exclaimed. "you must be a pretty fast boat."
he smiled and said, "what might be the port you want to get at, sir? southampton may be too high up for you."
"our destination was penzance," said i; "but any port that is in england will do."
"oh," said he, "there ought to be no difficulty in putting you ashore at penzance." he then asked us if we would like to step below, and forthwith conducted us into a large, roomy, elegantly, indeed sumptuously, furnished cabin, as breezy as a drawing-room, and aromatic with the smell of plantains or bananas hung up somewhere near, though out of sight. the panels were hand-painted pictures, the upper deck or ceiling was finely embellished, and there was a gilt centrepiece from which depended a small but costly chandelier or candelabra that projected some ten or twelve oil lamps. the carpet was a thick velvet pile, and there were curtains and mirrors as in a drawing-room; indeed, i never could have imagined such an interior on board a sea-going structure, and though it was all very grand and princely to look at, i could not but regard the whole as an example of wanton, senseless extravagance.
"this should suit you, grace!" said i.
"is it not heavenly?" she cried.
the captain stood by with a pleased countenance, observing us.
"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 ladyship—"
"no, not her ladyship," i interrupted, guessing that the fellow, having caught the name of lady amelia roscoe, was confounding grace with that title; but here i broke off, with a conscious look, i fear, for i could not speak of my sweetheart as miss bellassys 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 thrashing 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 ship 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 ship too; some sea vision of one's sleep, so quickly has it all happened, and so astonishing 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 ship 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 buttons 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 refreshing 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 passage of the beautiful steamer, to every emotion inspired by each other's society, and by the free, boundless, noble 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 ashore 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 ashore 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 pass, holding that i had already said enough as to the legitimacy of our shipboard 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 butter, 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 shining 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 passed one or two shadowy ships, 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 passage 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.
