James Emerson Fletcher, Midshipman
On board HMS Essex
On station off France
My Dear Jacky,
Although I despair of ever hearing from you again, much less actually seeing you and taking your hand in mine, I shall continue to keep corresponding with you in this manner as it does give me some comfort in that I feel that I am communicating with you on some level, spiritual or otherwise.
I am still studying for my lieutenancy, though I take no joy in it, my real interest in this life having taken to her heels and run from me, and I am back on board the Essex, on patrol off the French coast.
I have sent word throughout the fleet concerning the possibility that you were somehow contained in it, though in what capacity I cannot imagine. If you are here, could you be posing as a boy again? No . . . not likely. What would be the point? Could some unscrupulous officer have . . . no, I will not think of that possibility.
If you could read this, you would be happy to know that I have placed your Judy and my Hattie with a lovely old woman, Lady Chumbley, who is greatly in need of their company and care. Judy and Hattie have been getting along famously. It is a good post, and though it will not last forever, I believe all concerned are happy.
Judy had told me, in vivid detail, a good deal of your life on the streets, before you had joined the company of the Dolphin, and while I took her wild tales with more than one grain of salt, I did enjoy hearing stories of you, however fanciful. However, I was disabused of the notion that the stories were exaggerations, to a great extent, when Judy, before being conveyed to Lady Chumbley’s residence, asked that she be permitted to visit your old “kip,” as she put it. I agreed, of course, but only on the condition that I be allowed to accompany her. She protested, thinking that not at all wise, but I persisted and she finally agreed.
Upon gaining the place, that dank place under the old bridge, it was all I could do not to draw the handkerchief soaked in cologne water that I kept in my sleeve as protection for my nose from the smells of the city, and putting it to my face and keeping it there. In deference to the children living there in that place, though, I managed not to do it. Even so, I was aghast at the thought of you, my brave but still frail and fine flower, living here in this squalor all those years. I truly cannot put my mind around it all.
The urchins received Judy as an old comrade and there were expressions of great joy as she doled out portions of her meager earnings into each hand, money, I then realized, that she had been saving up for just such a purpose. I, however, was viewed with the greatest of suspicion. I suddenly felt ashamed of my own wealth and position.
The excited conversation flowed and I was astounded to hear from the girl Joannie that you had visited here on your arrival back in Britain. It seems that all the whole world has had the joy of your company, all except me.
Judy informed me, upon our taking leave of the place, that, had I ventured in there and had she not been with me, I would have been clubbed, stripped, and left unconcious and naked in the street in under two minutes, but I cannot quite believe that. They are just children, after all.
So, to sum it up, Judy and Hattie seem content and contemplate their futures with happiness, but that same happiness, however, continues to elude me, as word of you and your whereabouts are still unknown to all. In desperation, I had written to your school in Boston and have received a reply from your friend Miss Amy Trevelyne to the effect that you have not returned there and she is frantic with worry over your safety. I fear I have done wrong in alarming her, but I saw no other path in trying to find you.
In addition, I have sent . . . wait . . . there is a knock on my door . . .
It is with a shaking hand that I report that a boat has just pulled up alongside bearing a very small midshipman with a letter from one of our smaller patrol ships. My Captain informs me that it concerns events that have recently occurred on HMS Wolverine. It seems that its Captain has died, its officers are missing, and the ship is being commanded by a J. M. Faber, Acting Lieutenant.
Good Lord.
We leave in the morning,
Jaimy