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A Travel Journal
#1
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September 5, 1889
Dearest friend,
You well know that impulsive is far from a word which would describe me. Quiet, reserved, daydreamer all would be better adjectives for me. Yet I have done something quite impulsive, under different circumstances I'd like to think my family might be proud of this change in my demeanor, however, given what I have directed my energies at I believe they might find themselves wishing this particular trait had manifested quite differently. At least I may rest assured that I have at least one friend who might understand and approve of such a venture. P indeed would be inclined to encourage me to such actions. Alas Benedict shall only see this as a further disgrace and my father shall be sorely tested to have placed his reluctant permission upon S.

Just what is this venture, you may be asking. S and I have embarked upon the high seas. I can hardly believe it myself though the waves slosh against the sides of the ship as I write this. Today, S took me to view his ship. I have always wished for more than just my small window of life and upon mentioning this S devised a plan to brighten more windows for me. He asked me to accompany him to Boston to meet his family. Surprising both of us I agreed and he set about making preparations immediately. At seven and twenty I shall see more of the world than I have in the first six and twenty years of my life.

I shall endeavor to record this venture truthfully and fully as we continue across the pond to America.
#2
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September 6, 1889

Dearest friend,

I am proud to report that I have not taken sick as we have sailed into open water. Many of the men aboard are skittish to have a woman making the journey with them. Superstition incling them to watch me warily no matter where I tred. The fact that my constitution has remained unaltered appears to have inclinded a few of them to better dispositions and I have heard a few admiring comments comparing me to C - beloved by many of the men despite her gentler sex. Because of the murmurs I have kept much to my quarters, although I endeavor to be braver and venture above deck each day.

S has lent me his Captain's quarters to ensure my own comfort and modesty. A gesture which I appreciate with some reservations. He comports himself to society's standards on this matter, for which I find myself indebted and yet reluctant to embrace. Society shall draw their own conclusions from the sheer nature of the venture despite his own actions. He has settled into his first mate's quarters instead of remaining with me. I confess that I almost hoped he might remain. Honor holds him to such a standard, however, that despite the wagging tongues we have left behind he is nothing by a gentleman.
#3
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September 7, 1889
Dearest friend,

It is clear that the men of S’s ship admire and respect their captain. They watch him with the utmost loyalty when he commands them and never question his decisions. I find myself in awe of the ease in which they have settled into a pattern. The men speak highly of S, even the first mate who now finds his quarters more considerably cramped.

Mr. N. Higgins seems not a whit concerned by his captain's presence in his rooms. Indeed he has embraced the idea with only the most minimum of concerns. He has since endeavored to show me some of the ship and make me feel comfortable despite the whispers that follow me. I appreciate the attentions of H, however, I am quite use to the trailing of whispers and speculation.
#4
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September 8, 1889
Dearest friend,

I have been the most remiss on recording my surroundings these past few days, so caught up in the adventure I have not yet endeavored to even include a faithful study of them. I shall attempt to remedy this now.

On the deck the sky stretches as far as the eye can see, meeting with the ocean at the very edge of what seems the world. Like the line of a landscape in a painting. The waves seem as small shimmering ruts across this wide expanse, seemingly smaller than they appear. Nowhere is there the sight of green or brown, only blues and grays, whites and brightness. The sun knows no boundaries and beats down on us but the clouds above seem as soft and fluffy as a down pillow.


I can see what S enjoys this so much. It feels wild, untamed. The salt sticky to the very air, the feeling of being alone in the world. The lack of rules and priority. It lacks the gentle calm of my small cottage and reeks of adventure and promise. It is rough, but thrilling. Dangerous and yet I feel safe along side S. To think I might have never strayed from my peaceful home, never seen, the swells of the waves, the swaying of the masts. The ocean itself seems to have beckoned me to a life free of the worries society has thrust upon me, I shall take this reprieve as the gift that S has intended it.
#5
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September 9, 1889
Dearest friend,

The winds have been with us this journey, or so S has told me. He expects us to make landfall tomorrow. The freedom I have felt here, out on the ocean, I begin to worry shall evaporate like the water that splashes onto the desk. Tomorrow I shall have to face the consequences of what I have done. I shall have to face people who do not know me, who have not seen the love I hold for S the way C has seen it blossom. S assures me his parents shall love me, that they shall not hold my lack of abilities against me. But after a lifetime shrouded in secrets and disappointment, how can I find the faith to believe in this?

I shall set my worries aside for now and focus on the story I have begun. Perhaps writing shall ease my worries as it always has and I shall be able to put my faith in S by the time we arrive in Boston.


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