En Route Port of Spain, August 24, 1947

ghost

Darling “Bett”,

My gosh! It’s hot! It is said that when it’s this hot, the Stinger Rays come up to the surface to wipe the sweat off their brows. One of my “A.B.’s” caught a 45 pound catfish this morning.

Last night, in Paramaribo, before we sailed, I saw a new picture, “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir”.

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There was something about it, fantastic though it was, that held me and drew me out. I should like very much to see it again. If only to observe if I still see the cliff as “Third Cliff”, and myself, as the seaman, haunting you as I did the last time.

Gull-Cottage-The-Ghost-and-Mrs_-Muir-1947

Certainly, there was no tangible connection between us and the story on the screen, and yet, I felt strange and very close to you, as though you were beside me, holding my hand, and watching the picture with me.

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It’s a difficult feeling to describe. It puzzled me at the time. I have had several moments like that since I have been away from your arms. Once, early in the mid-watch when ordering the helmsman to change course, I could hear your tender laugh and feel your cheek posed, waiting for my kiss, when I said, “port, midships!” You see honey, I spoke true words when I said, “I leave within you, my heart!”

I say to myself at moments of such close mental contact with you, “Dave, you miss her, and this is the natural reaction, nothing more, and yet, you are so close and alive and near to me that…..I wonder!

Now we are only carrying bauxite. We go one hundred some odd miles into the jungle, load, proceed to Port of Spain, Trinidad, unload, then return to the jungle and start all over. But, as bauxite is only bulk cargo and doesn’t require much attention, I should have more time to write to you. Just remember though, that my letters will come to you spasmodically because, as yet, strange to say, they have no post office in the jungle. The Head Hunters at Moengo just aren’t interested in modern improvements I guess. They’d rather beat out their troubles on the drums.

So, bear with me, have patience, my love, until I am home once more. Then, mayhap, we shall see what changes my absence hath wrought! I know this, if your innermost feelings bear the faintest resemblance to mine, you, my girl, are a “gone goose”.

Well, for now dear, I must leave you, physically! Keep your head up and to wind’ard and beat a steady course. Eventually you shall round the capes of hesitancy and doubt and let go anchor in the safe, permanent harbor of my heart, and feel the sweet, steady breeze of lasting love. I promise!

Goodnight my life,
Dave

P.S. Your letters are starting to come through now. Keep up the good work young lady, and one day I’ll buy you a hamburger with onions.

G’NITE CYCLONE

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