A Marriage at Sea Part 25

"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 ash.o.r.e?"

"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 s.h.i.+p'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 wis.h.i.+ng him and his s.h.i.+p all possible good-luck under the heavens. The pa.s.sengers 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 alt.i.tude of the s.h.i.+p'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-sh.e.l.l-like tossing of the s.h.i.+p'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 b.u.t.tons. But before I could address him old Parsons hailed to give him the name of the _Carthusian_ and to request him to report the s.h.i.+p, and he ran on to the bridge to answer. I could look at nothing just then but the s.h.i.+p. 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 s.h.i.+p 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 n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+p 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 pa.s.sengers a.s.sembled on the p.o.o.p 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 c.o.c.kneys 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 s.h.i.+p 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 lords.h.i.+p'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 n.o.body aboard except the crew?"

"n.o.body, sir."

"I have not the honour of his lords.h.i.+p'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 lords.h.i.+p '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 s.h.i.+pwrecked--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 ash.o.r.e 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.