The pirate gave me a pointer for coming home. He said there was a boy on the New York two years ago that had a pair of roller skates, and on very rough days he'd put 'em on and stand up near the bow and when the bow went up with the waves the boy would slide 'way down to the stern on his skates without a bit of trouble, and then back he'd go when she pitched the other way. It seems to me that's a great scheme and I'm going to try it. I always did like skating and the decks are bully for it, smooth as a park road.
The scenery isn't much so I won't try to tell you about it. It's nothing but water all the time, and when we get up in the morning you seem to be in just the same place you were last night.
The gong has just rung for dinner, and I must go. Maybe in a few days I'll write to you again, but I'm going to mail this letter to you now, because the pirate says maybe to-morrow we'll meet the sister ship to this one going back to New York, and he thinks if I can catch the eye of the Captain of the Paris, perhaps he'll stop long enough to take this letter aboard and carry it home to you.
Yours with love to Sandboys,
Bob.