The Captain's wife is a real sweet lady and I know we'll get along fine. The Captain's a bit of a queer duck, what with him stumping about on his peg leg, shouting orders like he's the very Angel of the Lord, and glaring out from beneath his shaggy brows, but the crew says he knows his business, one leg or not, and so I am easy in my mind.
We're leaving real soon, so I got to hurry and get this off in the post. Say good-bye to the Sisterhood for me, and tell them they'll always be held close in my heart for as long as I live. And dear Peg, of course. Tell her she was like a mum to me and I'll never forget her for the love and care she gave to an outcast stranger. The boys, too. I never got to say thanks to all for my daring rescue. Say farewell to Randall for me, too, and give him my thanks for saving my rather shaky virtue. Tell him to mind his studies at that college and to leave the girls alone. And a big hug for the blessed Millie. Tell them all not to worry about me. It's funny, but lately I've been getting the feeling that I'll be a lot safer at sea.
I left the sweet Gretchen at a farm near the shore. I saw two children playing with a ball and I stopped and they petted her and she seemed to like them and their father came up and there were cries of "Father! Father! Can we keep her, please? Please!"—and I told the father how I came by her and didn't want to just sell her to anyone who might abuse her and he seemed kind and agreeable, so I gave him a paper showing where she came from and all, and he gave me a ride back into town in return. I believe she is well placed, Amy. Tell Mistress she can take the cost of her off the money still in my name with the school.
And as for you, sweet Amy, I pray that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me and once again call me Sister, that dearest of names.
The Captain calls and we must obey. The gangway is pulled, the sails are loosed, and the lines are cast off.
Pray for me, Sister, for I go to the home of the whale.
Your friend,
Jacky