May 13, 2009

My Dearest Natalie,

Just a short note before I sleep. We landed this evening, and I have just checked into the hotel and settled into my room. The flight here to England was uneventful, but I fear I will never grow accustomed to this rather quick mode of travel. There is something to be said for the feel of the rolling ocean beneath your feet, the blast of the sea mist, and for the anticipation that grows during a lengthy sail. One greatly appreciates the journey as well as the arrival when traveling in such a fashion. Flying over the great Atlantic in a few hours leaves one breathless, unprepared … what do you call it? Jetlagged. There was no jetlag in my day.

We are several days here in London, awaiting final word from the Admiralty and the courts concerning the salvage of the Victory. Being a military vessel, the Admiralty has never relinquished ownership of her, even though Nelson’s Victory replaced her in 1765. The court must make the final decision on whether she and her remaining artifacts should be brought to the surface. So, we wait until they render their verdict. My employers are expecting word any day and are confident the judgment will be rendered in their favor. However, until then, we wait.

May 19, 2009

My Dearest Natalie,

Much to my pleasure, my stay in London was only for a few days. My lodging was a small establishment not far from Whitehall; clean, comfortable, but devoid of any warmth. The service staff attended to their duties without question, but none had any personality. Oh how I miss the Grapes and the very congenial Mrs. Broad.

London is much as it was in my day; crowded, loud, dirty and busy. Give me the countryside; rolling hills, trees, a fox to hunt. Better yet, the seaside with the sound of the waves crashing into the shore and the smell of salt in the air; much more suitable to my constitution than the crowded, dirty city.

Currently, we are in Portsmouth, conferring with the archeological team out of Fort Cumberland. Oh, to see the old fort, my darling. Much like everything else that remains from my time, she does not appear as she had in my day. I learned that modifications had been done to accommodate more advanced weaponry than existed when I was a naval captain.

The archeological team is a fine one; a mixture of seasoned seamen, scholars, and scientists. In particular, I have been working with an archeologist, Miss Phoebe Aldridge. Sure, she is young and new to the team, as am I, but quite knowledgeable of the sea and sailing. And, she knows her history, Natalie. Also on our team is a man near to my age; a seasoned archeologist, Neil Wybert. He has been with the team at Fort Cumberland for some years. We have been studying the cannon that the Odyssey team brought up earlier this year, in particular two bronze cannon bearing the coat of arms of George I. I have been particularly helpful in deciphering the various diagrams and charts of the ancient vessel. Mr. Wybert and Miss Aldridge have been amazed at my knowledge and have inquired several times as to where I acquired it. So far, I have been able to explain it away by implying long hours at study and at sea. How great their amazement would be had they been told of the truth; that I know of these things through personal experience!

My lodging here in Portsmouth is much more to my liking than the London hotel. It is a small establishment, a bed and breakfast in an historic farmhouse. A stone house; unimposing, quaint, but full of warmth and charm. It is nothing like the newer, modern homes. The ceilings are low and they creak at night, but the old house feels of home. In fact, it reminds me a great deal of Ashgrove Cottage, my first home with Sophia. All it needs is a good stable, an observatory and a clear sight to the sea then it would be a veritable replica! It is run by an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. Mrs. Matthews reminds me quite a bit of Mrs. Broad. She is a kindly woman, who looks after her guests with a motherly affection, and I lack for nothing other than your warm arms and lips.

May 22, 2009

Darling Natalie,

We still wait for the court’s decision on our salvage mission. I have been spending my days walking through the countryside and through Portsmouth itself. Certainly I have made it a point to visit Nelson’s Victory, and inspected with interest the other ships and exhibits at the historic dockyard. Mr. Wybert secured permission to visit the hull of the Mary Rose, the ship favored by Henry the VIII which sank in battle as he watched from shore. The hull had been removed from public view, as it is undergoing conservation, but through Neil’s efforts, we were able to inspect it. The conservationists have been making wonderful progress, and it warms my heart to see such love and care given to a veritable grand dame.

The days are growing longer as we approach summer, and with the extra hours I find I am brooding more. Everywhere there are reminders of my past and of what I have lost, and my thoughts turn to Sophie and the children. Yes, I understand that they did not live and die in their time, that they are not real, merely figments of a writer’s imagination as I am. But, as I live and breathe, they are real to me and their loss grieves me terribly. I must confess, my love, that sometimes the grief is more than I can bear, and my melancholy grows with each passing day.

But, admittedly, my brooding is not wholly due to being in England and the constant reminders of my past. I am lonely, sweetheart, and miss having my family near. I long to hear Chelsea’s strident “no!” followed by her delightful giggle, to teach young Eddie to properly seat a horse and follow his progress. I long to see the light in your eyes when you smile. I find my mind drifting toward you, my love, as a lost boat drifts to shore. You are my rock, my lighthouse, my safe harbor, and without you, I am incomplete.

Write to me soon, my love. Ease my melancholy. I ache for you and hunger to hear of the children. Until then, I remain your most humble servant and loving husband.