Sept. 19, 1943
Darling,
Right now I'm looking out a porthole at the Bounding Main!
I'm cruising in a very comfortable ship and everything would be swell if only you were along to enjoy the scenery. I'm fascinated by the ocean's different moods and particularly by sunrise and sunset.
One sunset resembled the neon-glow of the rose-fire we set off on the Fourth for Robbie and John. It was a sort of liquid flame that poured up from the horizon like a peaceful flair in an alien sea.
Moonrise can be a masterpiece too. One lemon-moon behind feathery dark clouds was particularly spectacular, casting soft weirdly green shadows on deck.
Rob and John would laugh at the flying fish. They skip and soar over the waves like frolicking fighter planes and race through the spray in long curving flights. I suppose "Life" is right in claming they don't wriggle their wings, but they do seem to be awfully acrobatic. Fish that look like little porpoises (to me) are also entertaining with their games of follow the leader.
I'm in fine shape, enjoy the new experiences of shipboard life, have good food, broadcasts and other entertainment and really can't complain. Remind me to take us on a postwar cruise -- that second honeymoon will run into astronomical figures if this sort of thing keeps up.
Of course I can't give you details about the weather, stars, etc, but I can say that as I brace myself on the rolling decks I remember the sea stories I read as a boy. I know starboard from port, have seen the rudder mechanism, can tell a hatch from a latch and learn a new term a day. What stories I'll have for Rob and John some day!
And you'd love it all, too! Normally, nothing could be more restful than ocean travel with its pleasant breezes and new-old scenery.
Don't despair -- before too long my letters should become more numerous. So keep writing.
All my love,
S.
P.S. Write to the same old address until you hear differently
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