At Sea, bound from Bermuda to St. Thomas
6 August 1947
I’m very close to you this evening. It’s a truly beautiful night. The ship has a merry pitching roll, as if deep down in her dark insides, she was laughing at a fellow who falls in love, then goes to sea. For a while, tonight, I went on deck, smoked a pipe-full in that “skiing pipe”, and listened to my thought waves clamor with one another for your frequency. How am I to know you are even tuned in?
Then, after a bit, while I relaxed there, smoking, the moon rose, and Venus started playing her nightly game of tag with her, and I was no longer here. I was sitting on the porch at Scituate with my back against your knees, tasting the sublimness of an unforgettable moment.
About that time, “The Hawser Eye” takes a lively dip, and a roll, then another dip, frolicking happily in her unharnessed freedom, as if to say, cradling me, “I’ve got you now Dave Shields, you came back didn’t you!”
Sure I’m back temporarily! But, one day soon, someone else will say, “I’ve got you, you came back didn’t you!” And…that will be in East Lexington, not at sea! And…that will be my love, not “The Hawser Eye”! And…I’ll sign on for good! Not three months.
This is the thought I shall have to close with tonight as I’m due on the midnight watch in 2 hours and have to get some sleep. More tomorrow! See you in a half hour. Goodnight.