April 1915
Dear Mabel,
This ship is not made for the harbour. A ship however gleaming or tattered must turn her bow to the sea. Like a hungry wolf, she will sniff the air and go where she must. Even so, how strange that this voyage has chosen me. My mind has been rolling back to the Thunderbolt, fishing for dolphins on our way to Calcutta. The wave that took me and the endless time I spent overboard as the sharks circled. The Thunderbolt sailing away, my hope with her, before she could reset her sails and turn back to me. Every sailor’s heart is filled with a sense of God and longing. Never more so than on that day.
How strange that I can command a ship, that I can navigate the shallows and the deep, but I struggle to command this pen. I cannot form the words to tell you how much I believe our connection to be true and constant. As I know the stars to be faithful, so my journey always leads back to you. You are my return ticket.
However, it is perhaps good to understand how treacherous this journey will be. Germany has declared all waters around Great Britain and Ireland a war zone. Many sailors have been caught unawares by a freak wave, or a vile wind that shreds sails and turns wood into matchsticks. But we, my dear, are sailing into a war. We know Germany's intention that all enemy shipping found near the British Isles will be sunk. We are late in leaving New York - still waiting for passengers that must transfer from the Cameronia. In contrast, some prominent passengers have received anonymous telegrams warning them not to sail and will not board. I myself will be more than happy when this ship leaves the harbour.
Speed has always been my friend, you know my Lusitania passengers pay richly for speed and comfort. This time I cannot offer the full complement of either. I won the Blue Riband for speed yet I have no choice but to sail slower, that's all I can tell you by letter. Anyway, speed and valour, medals and ribbons are something. But ribbons will not stop a shell or a torpedo. Sharks may decide not to bite, but this is war. And in war, the bite is everything.
It seems that Captain Dow is feeling the strain of this war (and the munitions the ship has been carrying). He flew the American flag on the Lusitania as protection against German submarines, but I do not believe he was confident a flag could save the boat, any more than a ribbon can stop a torpedo. I would not be aboard this ship except for his insistence that he would not command the ship. So now I have my commission from Sir Alfred to guide her safely into Liverpool's harbour.
As you know, I am not afraid of war or water. I am used to scooping up myself and others from their grasp. My apprehensions are steadied by letters sent from that young man I rescued after he fell off the Alexandra Dock, and from the man whose ship was rammed by the Cherbourg. The sea is slippery, dangerous work, but it is my work.
As always it seems I have unfinished business with the sea, and the Irish sea at that. How simple it was to leave the shore as an eight year old thinking he owned the waves. What this cabin boy learned as the waves broke everything, crushed everything, took me from the wreck of the Grasmere. Plunged into that roiling water that possessed all the strength of dragons, my arms and legs flailing, hauling me stroke by stroke to the Irish shore. Clouds rolling across me, dragging the dawn in their wake. I am older and wiser now. But the dragons have not changed at all.
Your Captain Turner (or Bowler Bill as I am known aboard) has of course purchased a brand new bowler hat and will wear it throughout my command of the ship. My hat and myself will be calm despite the loss of many of my crew to the Royal Navy. And for want of others who jumped ship in New York to avoid conscription - the Dreaded Draft. Slower she may be, but I trust our steam turbines to outdistance any submarine or dragon on the prowl. My heart is anchored, no matter what the danger, home where you are.
Your affection for me is an outpouring of a higher sort. Of everything good, kind and true. You have helped me recover from the separation from my wife and sons, Percy and Norman. You have kept me from tears, restored to me strength and courage and wisdom. Let us continue to find joy, to laugh - even at our heartbreaks. As the old song goes, “it is well with my soul.”
I remain yours,
William
Comments