NOVEMBER 10

A blustery day, though we did get some sun and I took Sophy up to have the benefit of fresh air. I dislike just about everything at sea, but one does dress more comfortably. I wear a short wash dress and an apron with a big pocket, and an old sun hat I use at home for the garden, and wooden pattens over my slippers. At night I wear a silk wrapper, which B. calls an “unwrapper” as it is easy of access. It’s pleasant not having a skirt dragging the floor and easier to keep clean.

On our house deck we are mostly private unless the sailors are in the mainmast rigging. I can look down on the helmsman and see forward as far as the forecastle house, which is all above deck, so it blocks the view beyond. The boom is enormous and squeaks like a bat. Sophy is content to go round and round the skylight and so it is exercise just to keep up with her. It was chilly and I’d not put on my cloak, so I came down feeling headachy, but she was exhilarated and it took several songs and a patient going over of the album, while she pointed out “Otter,” and “Grama,” and “Ha‑han,” until she started rubbing her eyes and agreed to be put down for a nap.

As I was repairing a hole in B.’s stocking, there was a tap at the cabin door. When I opened it, there was Mr. Head, with a steaming pot of tea. “I saw you come in and thought you might be chilled,” he said. I took the pot gratefully while he dug in his pocket and brought out a toy he’d made for Sophy. It was an owl fashioned from a walnut shell with tiny chicken feathers stuck on and wire feet. “She’ll love this,” I said. “She knows how to say the sound owls make. You are so artistic.” This sent him away beaming. So I put the owl on the bookshelf and sat down at the table with my pot of tea and this book to chronicle yet another dull day at sea for the captain’s wife.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 652