We pulled at our cigars in silence as we gazed at each other. The evening had blackened into night; a silver star or two slided in the open port through which came the washing noise of the water as it swept eddying and seething past the bends into the wake of the ship; now and again the rudder jarred harshly and there was a monstrous tread of feet overhead. We were at the extreme after end of the vessel, where the heave of her would be most sensibly felt, and she was still curtseying with some briskness, but I scarcely heeded the motion, so effectually had the mad behaviour of the _Spitfire_ cured me of all tendency to nausea. "And now, Mr. Barclay," exclaimed the captain, after a silence of a minute or two, "I'll explain why I have made so free as to ask you for your story. It's the opinion of Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore, that Miss Bellassys and you ought to be married right away off. It's a duty that's owing to the young lady. You can see it for yourself, sir. Her situation, young gentleman," he added with emphasis, "is not what it ought to be." "I agree in every word," I exclaimed, "but--" He interrupted me: "Her dignity is yours, her reputation is yours. And the sooner you're married the better." I was about to speak, but despite my pronouncing several words he proceeded obstinately: "Mrs. Barstow is one of the best natured women in the world. There never was a more practical lady; sees a thing in a minute; and you may believe in her advice as you would in the fathom marks on a headline. Miss Moggadore, the young lady that sat on my left at table--did you notice her, Mr. Barclay?" "A middle-aged lady, with curls?" "Eight and thirty. Ain't that young enough? Ay, Miss Moggadore has two curls, and let me tell you that her nose heads the right way. Miss Moggadore wasn't behind the door when brains were served out. Well, she and Mrs. Barstow, and your humble servant," he convulsed his short square figure into a sea-bow, "are for having you and Miss Bellassys married straight away off." "So there is a clergyman on board?" I cried, feeling the blood in my face, and staring eagerly at him. "No, sir," said he, "there's no clergyman aboard my ship." "Then," said I, almost sulkily, "what on earth, Captain Parsons, is the good of you and Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore advising Miss Bellassys and me to get married straight away off, as you term it?" "It ought to be done," said he, with an emphatic nod. "What, without a parson?" I cried. "_I_ am a parson," he exclaimed. I imagined he intended a stupid pun upon his name. "Parson enough," he continued, "to do your business. _I'll_ marry you!" "You?" I shouted. "Yes, me," he returned, striking his breast with his fist. "Pray, where were you ordained?" said I, disgusted with the bad taste of what I regarded as a joke.