before.”
“Where,” asked Laurel, “is the wedding to be?” She looked around her. “The kitchen,” she said dubiously, “is the largest room, and I believe Nor would like to fit in as many as he could.”
“Bless you,” laughed Mrs. Jessopp. “No home wedding for you.”
“But there’s no church.” That was one of the first things Laurel intended working for, a little community hall that would do for a church as well.
“You’re being married at the station. Don’t look so alarmed, there won’t be a single sign of a whale—unless we run out of chairs and have to use some of the old vertebrae ones.” Mrs. Jessopp laughed again.
“The station?”
“The engine gallery, it’s the biggest empty space. The men have been up since daybreak sweeping and decorating it. You’d never know it now. Boilers, pipes, winches and wire are all strewn with ferns and flowers. I should say,” chuckled Mrs. Jessopp, “that you’re the first bride on record to walk up the engine gallery of a whaling station to whisper ‘Yes.’ ”
At nine o’clock the launch from the mainland arrived. Everyone was down to meet it as usual.
When Nor saw it coming, he called out to Laurel to run down as well.
“I think I’d better wait here,” she said a little bashfully.
“Don ’ t start going coy,” he called back. “The Islanders wouldn’t understand it. Come down with me and meet the padre. You don’t want to be married by a stranger, do you?”
“I’m marrying a stranger,” she reminded him.
“There’s still time to back out,” he said, taking out his makings, not rolling one for her this time.
“What about you?” she blurted.
“My mind is the same. And you, mate?”
“The same, Nor.” It will be right ... it will be right ... she heard the voice that had kept tune with the rain last night saying once more.
“Good,” he nodded. He went to the door, hesitated, then turned round. “Come on, little green duck,” he grinned.
The coastal boat came sweeping in on a storm-flattened sea. Above the pier the sky now was garlanded with little cottonwool clouds, underfoot the earth was already soft and warm. The bay held no remembrance of last night’s gales that had tossed it so violently, it simply reflected the blue and the white from above and the flapping wings of the gulls.
There was a pleased “Ah” and a cheer, and then clapping as the launch made the jetty in the first run.
“That’s excellent,” said Nor with vast satisfaction. “That’s a good omen. The Islanders will be pleased, everything is going well. It’s a splendid example. By jove, Laurel, I can see a string of weddings after this.”
She looked at him incredulously. His pleasure was unmistakable. He was looking on everything from one angle ... the station’s. What this ceremony could mean in the way of public example. What standard it could set in the way of serenity, stability, permanency. The prosperity— and expansion—it could bring to the Larsen Humpback Island Whaling Project. That was how, and how only, Nor looked on all this. But what of herself? What right had she to criticize? For what other reason had she agreed to this marriage other than personal security, help for David, a liking for the place ... because of a little voice that assured her it would be right ... it would be right?
She saw Nor looking at her, the blue eyes narrowed. As ever he read her thoughts.
“It’s a fair deal, mate,” he reminded a little sharply.
She nodded agreement. What had she to say back? she thought.
The padre jumped ashore. He took Nor’s hand firmly in his. “This is a grand day, Mr. Larsen,” he beamed.
Nor drew Laurel forward. “Here she is,” he said.
They walked up to the house together, the padre talking with Nor. When they got to the door, the women suddenly became tyrants. It was time Laurel dressed ... her bridegroom shouldn’t see her, anyway, till she walked down to meet him. Had she something blue
“Where,” asked Laurel, “is the wedding to be?” She looked around her. “The kitchen,” she said dubiously, “is the largest room, and I believe Nor would like to fit in as many as he could.”
“Bless you,” laughed Mrs. Jessopp. “No home wedding for you.”
“But there’s no church.” That was one of the first things Laurel intended working for, a little community hall that would do for a church as well.
“You’re being married at the station. Don’t look so alarmed, there won’t be a single sign of a whale—unless we run out of chairs and have to use some of the old vertebrae ones.” Mrs. Jessopp laughed again.
“The station?”
“The engine gallery, it’s the biggest empty space. The men have been up since daybreak sweeping and decorating it. You’d never know it now. Boilers, pipes, winches and wire are all strewn with ferns and flowers. I should say,” chuckled Mrs. Jessopp, “that you’re the first bride on record to walk up the engine gallery of a whaling station to whisper ‘Yes.’ ”
At nine o’clock the launch from the mainland arrived. Everyone was down to meet it as usual.
When Nor saw it coming, he called out to Laurel to run down as well.
“I think I’d better wait here,” she said a little bashfully.
“Don ’ t start going coy,” he called back. “The Islanders wouldn’t understand it. Come down with me and meet the padre. You don’t want to be married by a stranger, do you?”
“I’m marrying a stranger,” she reminded him.
“There’s still time to back out,” he said, taking out his makings, not rolling one for her this time.
“What about you?” she blurted.
“My mind is the same. And you, mate?”
“The same, Nor.” It will be right ... it will be right ... she heard the voice that had kept tune with the rain last night saying once more.
“Good,” he nodded. He went to the door, hesitated, then turned round. “Come on, little green duck,” he grinned.
The coastal boat came sweeping in on a storm-flattened sea. Above the pier the sky now was garlanded with little cottonwool clouds, underfoot the earth was already soft and warm. The bay held no remembrance of last night’s gales that had tossed it so violently, it simply reflected the blue and the white from above and the flapping wings of the gulls.
There was a pleased “Ah” and a cheer, and then clapping as the launch made the jetty in the first run.
“That’s excellent,” said Nor with vast satisfaction. “That’s a good omen. The Islanders will be pleased, everything is going well. It’s a splendid example. By jove, Laurel, I can see a string of weddings after this.”
She looked at him incredulously. His pleasure was unmistakable. He was looking on everything from one angle ... the station’s. What this ceremony could mean in the way of public example. What standard it could set in the way of serenity, stability, permanency. The prosperity— and expansion—it could bring to the Larsen Humpback Island Whaling Project. That was how, and how only, Nor looked on all this. But what of herself? What right had she to criticize? For what other reason had she agreed to this marriage other than personal security, help for David, a liking for the place ... because of a little voice that assured her it would be right ... it would be right?
She saw Nor looking at her, the blue eyes narrowed. As ever he read her thoughts.
“It’s a fair deal, mate,” he reminded a little sharply.
She nodded agreement. What had she to say back? she thought.
The padre jumped ashore. He took Nor’s hand firmly in his. “This is a grand day, Mr. Larsen,” he beamed.
Nor drew Laurel forward. “Here she is,” he said.
They walked up to the house together, the padre talking with Nor. When they got to the door, the women suddenly became tyrants. It was time Laurel dressed ... her bridegroom shouldn’t see her, anyway, till she walked down to meet him. Had she something blue
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