"I enter the circumstance in the official logbook, duly witnessed, and then there you are, much more married than it would delight you to feel if afterwards you should find out you've made a mistake."
My heart beat fast. Though I never dreamt for an instant of accepting this shipper's offices seriously, yet if the ceremony he performed should be legal it would be a trump card in my hand for any game I might hereafter have to play with Lady Amelia.
"But how," said I, "are you to get over the objections to my marriage?"
"What objections? The only objection I see is your not being married already."
"Why," said I, "residence or licence."
He flourished his hand: "You're both aboard my ship, aren't ye? That's residence enough for me. As to licence—there's no such thing at sea. Suppose a couple wanted to get married in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; where's the licence to come from?"
"But how about the consent of the guardian?"
"The lawful guardian isn't here," he answered, "the lawful guardian's leagues astern. No use talking of guardians aboard ship. The young lady being in this ship constitutes me her guardian, and it's enough for you that I give my consent."
His air, as he pronounced these words, induced such a fit of laughter, that for several moments I was unable to speak. He appeared to heartily enjoy my merriment, and sat watching me with the broadest of grins.
"I'm glad you take to the notion kindly," said he. "I was afraid, with Mrs. Barstow, that you'd create a difficulty."