Captain Caleb

4 June 1878

My Dearest Eliza,

There seems to be no end in sight, no respite from this long and tedious voyage. I miss the aroma of your biscuits and apple pie baking in the oven, the sound of the children giggling as they run and play in the backyard, and I especially miss the soft caress of your loving touch. I think of you often, see your face in my mind?s eye, your sparkling blue eyes that rival any sapphire and your long, chestnut hair. I fear that one day we will forever be apart, that I will not make it home to you and the children. But let us pray that this is not that day.

Though today, dear Eliza, the ocean is still as death, not a breath of air to steer us closer to home. I worry that this is the calm before the proverbial storm. The sky is dark, the clouds ominous as they hang overhead.

The crew is tired, as anxious to be back with their families as I am to be with mine. If the good Lord is with us, we will reach home before month end. We all look forward to the first glimpse of our home port, though any port would bring solace.

I have acquired the porcelain doll for Rachel, which we can only hope will raise her spirits and give her the strength to overcome this dreadful illness. Perhaps I will be home long enough to see her blossom, to feel her little arms wrapped around my neck once more, before my next voyage takes me away from all of you once again.

I am needed on deck, so I must leave you now, my dearest. May the faith and courage in your heart keep you until my return.

All my love,