"True," said I, "but it might help us to get home—in time—if you will instruct the officers under your command to communicate with any vessel sailing to England."
"I told Mr. M'Cosh not to communicate until you were married," he answered. "There'll be no lack of ships homeward bound, sir," and so saying he left me to go to the rail that protected the edge of the poop where he stood surveying the scores of steerage passengers which filled the main-deck, many of them, as they squatted or hung about here and there, eating their breakfasts, which seemed to me to consist of ship's biscuit and little tin pots of black tea.
I saw nothing of Grace till the cabin breakfast was ready; most of the first-class passengers had by this time assembled, some of them who had been sea-sick yesterday issuing from their cabins; and I noticed a general stare of admiration as my darling stepped forth followed by Mrs. Barstow. Her long and comfortable night's rest had returned her bloom to her. How sweet she looked! how engaging the girlish dignity of her posture! how bright her timid eyes as she paused to send a glance round in search of me! I was instantly at her side.
"The ceremony is fixed for ten, I think?" said Mrs. Barstow, and here Miss Moggadore arrived as one who had a right to be with us, not to say of us.
"Yes, ten o'clock," I answered. "But do these people know what is going to happen?"
"Oh, it will certainly have got about. A ship is like a village—the lightest whisper is everywhere echoed."
"No matter, Grace," said I, "let them stare. What isn't kindness must be admiration."
"I am of opinion," said Miss Moggadore, "that the ceremony ought to be public."
"I'd rather not," I answered. "In fact, we both had rather not."
"But so many witnesses!" said Miss Moggadore.