Presently I looked at my watch: a quarter to ten. Mr. Tooth strolled up to me.
"All alone, Mr. Barclay? It is a fact, have you noticed, that when a man is about to get married people hold off from him. I can understand this of a corpse—there is a sanctity in death; but a live young man you know—and only because he's going to get married! By the way, as it is to be a private affair, I suppose there is no chance for me?"
"The captain is the host," I answered. "He is to play the father. If he chooses to invite you, by all means be present." As I spoke, the captain came on deck, turning his head about in manifest search of me. He gravely beckoned with an air of ceremony, and Mr. Tooth and I went up to him. He looked at Mr. Tooth, who immediately said:
"Captain, a wedding at sea is good enough to remember; something for a man to talk about. Can't I be present?" and he dropped his head on one side with an insinuating smile.
"No, sir," answered Captain Parsons, with true sea grace, and putting his hand on my arm he carried me right aft. "The hour's at hand," said he. "Who's to be present, d'ye know? for if it's to be private we don't want a crowd."
"Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore—nobody else, I believe."
"Better have a couple of men as witnesses. What d'ye say to Mr. Higginson?"
"Anybody you please, captain."
"And the second?" said he, tilting his hat and thinking. "M'Cosh? Yes, I don't think we can do better than M'Cosh. A thoughtful Scotchman with an excellent memory." He pulled out his watch. "Five minutes to ten. Let us go below," and down we went.
The steward was despatched to bring Mr. Higginson and the chief mate, Mr. M'Cosh, to the captain's cabin. The saloon was empty; possibly out of consideration to our feelings the people had gone on deck or withdrawn to their berths.