If it hadn’t been for that wreck I would never have steered my course South to the Southern Cross and the Atoll Islands of the Pacific. I loved the North, the Aurora Borealis and the magnificent splendor of the icebound Arctic. I knew it as you know your navigation. If I hadn’t left it you would never have lived in the tropics and thrived on coconut milk and yarrow root. Instead you might have chawed blubber with the Eskimos.
I would prefer to let sleeping dogs lie, for the memory of that wreck is a bitter one for me, but I want you to tell it anyway so that the world may have a glimpse into the realism of the sea in fact.
Keep a strong hand on the helm and watch for squalls from leeward.
Your affectionate
Father.
11
“The Sea gives up its dead”
San Francisco in April. High out of the network of masts and rigging of ships that made the waterfront look like a black spider web across the skyline, jerked the blue house flag, with its flying fish tails, of the famous Star, queen of the fleet of sailing ships in the Alaska salmon trade. The American flag fluttered no less proudly from her spanker gaff. It was Spring and sailing day!