16 June, 1948

 

Hi Cyclone,

How’s your imagination this evening?  Coax on that lovely smile, cuddle up close, take your shoes off if you want to, kiss me once, now snuggle in close and rest your head on your favorite spot, now, just wait until I put your arms around you, one – here, and one more! – there, now I can tell you.

Oh Darling!  You whose heart beats as one with mine in a life long symphony, whose love is strong, bold, proud, fearless, and permanent, I love you!

Mmm!  Darling!  Do me a favor?  Always kiss me like you did just then!  Your lips are so soft and sweet and cool and lovely.  Every time you kiss me, the “little box” opens and your lips, wordlessly, speak volumes.

Keep your letters coming Darling, and, as things get organized on here, and I have a little more time, I’ll be able to write to you a lot more.  I love you!

Honey, we got into Montevideo this morning.  I have to work cargo all day, and we sail late this afternoon, so, if this letter is to go off, I’ll have to close it now.

Just remember that I have 10 days at sea to and from New York, before I reach, and after I leave Rio de Janeiro.  So you will receive no mail for 11 days. after I leave and 11 days approximately before I get home.  I’m sorry Honey, I’ve got to hurry!

Remember always, that you are my life, my heart, my love, my joy, forever.

 

All of my love,

Your Dave.

5 June 1948. S/S Brazil

11:00 pm

250 miles due east of Bermuda

Good Evening my Darling,

Tired as I am, I couldn’t go to bed without saying goodnight to you.  I have been working since 3:30 this morning on charts, radar, and a slew of other things that you are not acquainted with as yet.

I’m suppose to be on watch 8 hrs. a day, only.  So far I’ve averaged 17 hours today.  It may sound funny to you, but the harder I work, and the less sleep I get now, the sooner I’ll get a crack at that Second’s berth and an increased bank account.

Darling, you were wonderful, when we were together this week.  It seems that each time I take you in my arms, you find some tender new way of making me more aware of your love.

Honey, I just can’t keep my eyes open any longer, so I’ll have to continue tomorrow.

It’s a long way to the first of May,

But you are dearer

with each passing day.

Corny!  But, oh how true!  Maybe you’d better start wearing “Nighties” now so you’ll be used to them!  See you in half an hour, in Technicolor.  Gosh!  I need you tonight!  Goodnight Precious!

10 June

Sweetheart, I know you realize how anxious I am to keep you well supplied with letters from me.  So, when I say that 5 days have gone by and I haven’t had a moment to sit down and say things I want to say, you may have an idea just how busy I have been.

Eventually, I’ll be able to write a letter each night and have two or three letters to mail at each port.  But, right now Johnny and I are busy getting the deck department set for the peacetime schedule, and the navigation dep’t, set for Admiral Nichols inspection, at the end of each voyage.

Johnny has been wonderful.  On duty, he is Ch. Officer all the way and works me harder than anyone else.  He’s after me so much and giving me so many jobs to do that the other mates are beginning to think that Johnny has a grudge against me.  When I say he works me, I mean I have practically no time to myself, except the 4 hrs. maximum sleep I get each night.

What the other mates don’t seem to notice is that Johnny works hard too, in fact, he works with me most of the time.  But they still can’t see why he picks on me.

What they don’t realize is that Johnny drops into my room for a “night-cap” each night before we turn in.  Johnny says he never had a mate before that he could work hard and long any time he needed to, and have that same fellow as his buddy when off duty.  We are both very pleased at the arrangement.  You’d be surprised at the amount of work and reports and surveys, etc.. that we turn out.

While we have our night-cap, he becomes my friend again, and we talk about how lucky I am and how much we are in love, and what a wonderful feeling it is to be so delighted with the woman who’ll share your life and bed forever.

Then, we try to straighten his love life out.  He tells me all his troubles and, I don’t know why, but he seems to value my advice.

The captain on a liner like this rarely speaks to any of the mates, excepting to say, “Good Morning”, with the exception of Johnny and the Second.  He’s too busy, and it tends to keep him a sort of legendary figure, so, that when he does give an order, in an emergency it’s obeyed immediately.

Well, my drafting has come in handy.  I’m inking and plotting Route Courses on charts, and plotting the positions of wrecks etc… it’s a lot like drafting.  There’s a good bit of lettering to be done too.  The whole job will take over a month.  Well, Johnny was so tickled with the job I did that he called the Captain and showed  him.  There were several other mates in the chartroom at the time, so, the Captain merely said it was a neat job.

But later, he came in to my cabin and congratulated me on my work since I came on board as well as my chart work.  So help me, I was speechless!  It was what Johnny and I were working for.

You see, the Second’s job will be open after this trip and Johnny wants me to get the job, (over the son of the Port Steward).  That’s why Johnny and I both agreed that I was to work like “HELL” with the good chance of Second Officer after this trip and First Officer before the summer is out.

Captain Sadler has the privilege of picking his own officers and he’ll promote his own as high as he can before taking any from ashore.  That’s what he did for Johnny, let him go First Officer on a Chief Mate’s ticket (almost all First Officers have to have Captain’s papers).  That’s what Johnny is trying to get the Captain to do for me.  So far it’s going fine.  Say a few prayers darling!

Oh, speaking of prayers, when I go Second Officer, and get on the 12-4 watch, I’ll be able to receive Holy Communion every day at 8:00 am.  Now, I can’t because I’m on watch.  That’s Moore-McCormack for you.

Holy Mass in the cabin class library every morning, at sea, and in port.  A priest makes every voyage with us, and usually about six or eight nuns also, (transfers).  This is the first time I’ve ever been on a ship where Mass was said every day.  I can’t wait until I’m Second, then I can go down two decks every morning, go to Mass, receive daily Communion, then go to the officer’s mess for breakfast, without even leaving my job.  Isn’t that wonderful.  You’ll have to go some to receive Communion as often as me during the next year.

My love forever,

Your Dave

Man Overboard

Port of Spain, Trinidad
27 August 1947
10:00 p.m.

Hello Heart Tender, (Keeper, that is)

It’s rather hot down here, as you can see by the way the ink blurs. Tonight, about two hours ago, to be exact, I was taking a longboat back to the ship. As I rounded the stern of a Liberty ship, a seaman committed suicide by leaping into the ocean. My boat searched for him for over an hour but we could not locate him, in the dark and with the swift current. He probably made one trip too many up into the jungle of Moengo, under the hot sun.

Men crack up on this run my dear. But, never the ones who are really seamen, who have clear heads, a sense of humor, faith, and a woman who loves them.  For example, several weeks ago, an engineer tried to smuggle through customs with his pockets and suitcase filed with Bauxite. (bauxite is ore, something like iron ore only very light and powdery) The engineer had just been down here too long, and with the continuous heat and constant hauling of Bauxite, the poor fellow’s mind just cracked. “Going Fruit” we call it down here. Why do I like the sea you ask?!

It’s peace and quiet,
It’s the roar of elements, angry and torn asunder.

It’s smooth and gentle,
It’s mountainous and terrifying.

It’s challenge.
It’s defeat.

It’s confidence.
It’s fear.

It makes men.
It breaks men.

It’s comfortable and pleasant.
It destroys men who know not how to sail.

It’s securing loose gear on a dark night on a wet deck with green seas coming aboard.

The sea is the place where a man who knows his work reigns supreme and unchallenged, and where a man who tries to bluff his way along is eventually caught and taught a permanent lesson, by the sea, the very element he thought to bluff.

Only those who know the sea and his habits can successfully sail her. Men who don’t do their work in the proper manner, are careless, are caught eventually, and reckoned with in nature’s own way.

The question, “Why do I like the sea?”, is really a poser. Sometimes I like it, mostly I don’t. But a man is suppose to do what he knows best. At least until new opportunities are available.

I know that rather than go to sea, I should like to be married to the girl I love, work ashore, come home to her every night, etc..

But, at present, let us say merely, that like the sea, or not, there are other things I desire more, and what I’m doing now, will enable me to obtain that which I desire, more easily, and retain it more capably. All this work is an attempt to answer your question.

Sept. 1. At Sea

Darling, I haven’t written for the past two days because I haven’t felt too hot! The sun is changing it’s declination from North to South, which means that it is directly overhead. If it is hot where you are, just imagine what kind of furnace I am working in. Not only is the sun hot, but, it’s heat is retained and reflected up to you by the steel decks on which you stand your watches.

Four hours, under those conditions, I must confess have been all I could cope with lately. I had sun fever yesterday, but was all right by the time my watch came around, so I went up for more punishment.

This is all for now my love. I have to sleep off today’s sun so that at midnight (four hours from now) I can stand watch again. Darn! It’s hot!

I love you Bette!

Your,
Dave

“Tag, You’re it Venus”

At Sea, bound from Bermuda to St. Thomas
6 August 1947

 

Hello Darling,

 

I’m very close to you this evening.  It’s a truly beautiful night.  The ship has a merry pitching roll, as if deep down in her dark insides, she was laughing at a fellow who falls in love, then goes to sea.  For a while, tonight, I went on deck, smoked a pipe-full in that “skiing pipe”, and listened to my thought waves clamor with one another for your frequency.  How am I to know you are even tuned in?

Then, after a bit, while I relaxed there, smoking, the moon rose, and Venus started playing her nightly game of tag with her, and I was no longer here.  I was sitting on the porch at Scituate with my back against your knees, tasting the sublimness of an unforgettable moment.

About that time, “The Hawser Eye” takes a lively dip, and a roll, then another dip, frolicking happily in her unharnessed freedom, as if to say, cradling me, “I’ve got you now Dave Shields, you came back didn’t you!”

Sure I’m back temporarily!  But, one day soon, someone else will say, “I’ve got you, you came back didn’t you!”  And…that will be in East Lexington, not at sea!  And…that will be my love, not “The Hawser Eye”!  And…I’ll sign on for good!  Not three months.

This is the thought I shall have to close with tonight as I’m due on the midnight watch in 2 hours and have to get some sleep.  More tomorrow!  See you in a half hour.  Goodnight.

 

Love,

Dave

At Sea. 22 September 1947

Darling Betty,

It is evening! The soft, lulling, hiss of the season’s first snow is just audible above the lively crackle of the fire, and through the storm windows. The golden circle of light from the fire forms a cozy haven from the overture of winter without.

Here in “pre-tucking -in” conversation, sit a sweet young girl, Betty and her son, “Davy”. After the consistency of pleading, of which only the young are capable, the bedtime story begins. Taking a lock of hair from the little boy’s head at her breast, and curling it around her finger, with a strange sparkle in her eyes, she looks into the fire and says:

“Once there was a man who, sailed ships like that one on the mantelpiece, all over the world. But, after six years, he no longer wanted to go to sea, he wanted to come home and settle down and have little boys like you, Davy.”

So he started working ashore helping his father design houses, like this one. But, he wasn’t happy, although he was glad to be home with his mother and father, and put thoughts of war, Iwo Jima, and the marine he killed behind him. He was uneasy, and needed an outlet to ease his mind until he decided how he was going to earn his living ashore.

Now, about this time, the snow started to fall, and one day while he was cleaning the cellar, this man noticed a pair of skiis, covered and neglected in the dust of six years of idleness.

So each weekend he would relax by going North into the crisp, untarnished air and ski, and ski, and ski, until his heart, (still within him) sang with exhilaration, and joy.

Now, one weekend, on a reunion with several old ski buddies, back also from the, “Late Hate”, he met a lovely girl, who was to change his whole life.

He tried several means of becoming acquainted, one most notable. But, he had little success, so he copied down her name and address from the hotel register, resolving to try to get in touch with her when he got home.

After the initial date, things went smoothly, and the nights they were together went by all too fast. After a few months, and with her help, he finally made up his mind to go back to sea for a year.

Now the girl knew that the man loved her very much, in fact, he gave her his heart for her birthday. But, she really didn’t think she loved him, until after he had gone to sea. Then she began to miss him, and to realize that she might be falling in love with him too!

Then little Davy raised his head sleepily and asked, “Who was the man Mommy?” “He was Your Daddy!” you answer.”

“Davey”

Maybe someday you can tell a little Davey that, my love. I hope so! At least it’s my dream at present. Will it be yours?

I love you Betty,

Dave

P.S. This letter sounds a little strange, when I read it over, but you get the general idea, so please bear with me on the rest. ( I really shouldn’t send it, but, oh well- here goes!)

Goodnight Darling!

Port of Spain, Trinidad. 3 October, 1947

Dearest Betty,

If you see that kid brother of mine, before he goes back to sea, give him my best and tell him to, “keep his feet dry”!

As for Venus, the declination is such now that I can observe it transiting my meridian down here, at night, close to the moon, but, in Lexington, at this time of the year, Venus is over your head in the daytime, and Zenith distance is smallest in early afternoon. Go ahead! Make something of that.

But, if you really want to show your mother that you know your stuff, then turn the page and study the chart, and you’ll soon be able to point out some of the stars. While your studying them, think of me because at the same time, I’ll be shooting them to get the ship’s position.

David W. Shields

Nightfall~ A velvet cloak of midnight blue settles over the land.
A cloak~ Hard wearing fabric, pretext? doubt?~ fear, uncertainty.
A cloak!

Moonrise~ The pale shafts of enlightenment descend to light the breeze of faith,
tearing the cloak asunder.
Whose cloak?~ Your cloak!
Enshrouding the unknown, my love.

Behold, I am your moon!
Turn your face to me.
Bath your beauty in my shafts of enlightenment.
Feel the warm, but salty breeze of my faith.
Hold still! Whilst I tear your cloak asunder!

Dave.

Port of Spain Again. November 2, 1947

 

Dearest “Cyclone”,

What is this, “Bark from a Lacewood Tree”, business?

Twice you’ve asked me and twice I’ve asked the natives. But, I can’t make them understand me. Maybe you could describe it to me, then I could explain what I’m looking for next time I see one of the natives.

We have to stick our bow into the jungle to turn the ship around each time we go up the “Commewijne River”.

Commewijine River

The last 50 miles into the jungle, the river is so narrow that we have to be towed, stern first, otherwise we’d never be able to make it.

Well, last time we stuck our “nose” into the jungle, a 26 ft. Boa Constrictor dropped to our deck, and we found ourselves with a very undesirable passenger.

After we killed it, we stretched it on a board, and the third mate skinned it. The skin of a dead Boa Constrictor is very beautiful, but it sure looked horrible when it was alive. How I’d hate to have one of those things drop on me!

Anyway, the third is going to make his wife a handbag, and have shoes made to match, out of the skin when we get back to the states.

Would you like an alligator handbag? If we stop at Dominica or St. Croix on the way north Bett, I’ll see what I can find for you.

Well, my 24th birthday was spent like so many of my previous ones, at sea. At sea in a world, not at peace, but, at least not in armed conflict, as yet.

Maybe if events continue in the same direction, we’ll be fighting the war after the next with clubs and spears.

Gosh darling, the days go slowly, when you count the passing of each. I scour the endings of your letters with a searching glance, looking for one that will tell me what I want to know. So, don’t think I missed the quotation markers you placed around “home”. Thanks darling. At least it’s one step in the right direction. If we’ve taken one step, we shall walk together yet.

The heat down here is simply terrific. I could take 10 showers a day, and still not cool off. I hope I don’t catch pneumonia when I go skiing with you in December.

This is, without a doubt, the hardest working run in the Merchant Marine. In addition, there is more than enough monotony. Work comes at any hour of the day or night. But, that’s the way I want it, because the time goes by just a little, not much, faster.

Well, judge for yourself. I have been away a little over three months, and aside from my regular work (8 hours per day, 7 days a week) I have a total so far of 700 hours of overtime work. Work done at all hours of the day and night. But, at $1.60 per hour extra, that makes $1120.00 in overtime alone, aside from my monthly pay. So, I guess I can stand it. Whom’ I kidding! Of course I can stand it. I’m making that $1.00 I had in the bank when I left home look sick.

In our five dollar bet as to the length of time you would remain unmarried, months that I am away count just as much as months that I am home remember!

Oh Betty, there are so many things I want to say when I start to write, so many things that are still unuttered. So many thoughts felt so beautifully and intensely, are still, just so many thoughts unshared. Partly because I fear to reveal some of them, but mostly because, when I start to write, I look at your picture while planning what I’ll say. Then all I can think of is, “Honey, soon-soon, you’ll be my girl again! Then anything I write seems stupid and irrelevant compared to the feeling of urgently, desperately wanting you.

I’ll close now sweetheart, at the end of day saturated with disgustingly healthy and torrid Caribbean sunshine. At the end of the one hundred and second day without you.

God Bless and keep you Betty
for your
Dave

P.S. Keep my heart beating!

Renaissance Man

 

Port of Spain, Trinidad, B.W.I. October 22, 1947

David W. Shields

Dearest Betty,

Came across the following while perusing a book of early essayists:

Her divine skill taught me this;
That from everything I saw
I could some instruction draw,
And raise pleasure to the height
From the meanest object’s sight.
By the murmur of a spring,
Or the least bough’s reselling;
By a daisy, whose leaves spread
Shut when Titan goes to bed;
Or a shady bush or tree;
She could more infuse in me,
Than all nature’s beauties can
In some other wiser man.

That’s all! Doesn’t it seem a little strange to you that I should enjoy poetry as I do? Maybe it’s because I work with the sun, stars, and planets and wagering my wits with the counter currents of the sea. Anyway, I enjoy reading good poetry.

Honey, I appreciate the fact that you would like to know when I’ll hit the states, in order to arrange your time etc.. But, nothing will be definite until written sailing orders come aboard, and we are actually loading for the states.

The New York office has been flooded with phone calls about the “Hawser Eye”. Enough of those, “when will my Johnny be home’s”, and we may go back sooner than I think.

I shall send you a wire just as soon as I find out for sure when we will leave for “Home”. When you will still have time to talking “Fluffy” into giving you your vacation when I am there to share it with you.

Maybe we can go skiing together, for a day anyway. I’d like to stop in at the old “Arlberg Inn” for a weekend though. Just to be once more in the spot where it all started.

The best estimate, it’s only a guess, mind you, of our voyage from here is as follows:

Port of Spain to the jungle
Jungle to Port of Spain
Port of Spain to jungle
Jungle to port of Spain
Port of Spain to jungle
Jungle to Georgetown, British Giana
Georgetown to Port of Spain
Port of Spain to Dominica
Dominica to St. Thomas
St. Thomas to New York City (arriving last week in Nov. or first week in Dec.)

You see darling, we can’t seem to get any information out of the “Alco” office down here about when we are leaving. Guesses run wild! You never really know until the written orders are on board.

There is still a chance that I may get home in time for that dance you mentioned. It will be wonderful to go out with Tom and Gwen again! And, oh Lady! would I love to see you in an evening gown again! With that corsage stowed in the usual place!

We have had wonderful times together my love. When you remember them, also remember that it is only the beginning. We have scarcely begun to enjoy each other.

Do I want to drive down to 3rd Cliff when I get home?

Third Cliff. Scituate, MA

Honey, that’s almost like saying, “Do I want to hold you in my arms again!” You know the answer to that. Third Cliff has been intricately and inseparably into every year of my life. All the years I was at sea, I returned, if only in thought, to the treasured, longed for beauty of Third Cliff in summer.

Now, I love it more than ever, because, as long as I live, when I think of Third Cliff, you will be beside me.

Yes, we will go to Third Cliff!

My darling, love me a little, have patience with me, for I’m not long from your arms. When your read this, the days shall be even less than now.

There will not be the slightest flaw in my work when we aim the bow north, and I navigate “home” to you. The Gulf Stream is strong this time of year, and I shall have a fair current all the way “home” to my darling Betty.

God Bless You and keep you for,

Your Dave

Etchings of a Sailor

David W. Shields

At Sea. Enroute Port of Spain. October 15, 1947

 

David W. Shields

Dearest Betty,

Well, it looks now as though I shall be coming home to you about the second or third week in November. In any case, no later than the third week in November.

I have the Chief Mate’s berth on here next voyage, if I want it. But, I’m going to have a talk with the Port Captain when I get back and see about a Chief Mate’s berth on one of the Liberties or a C-1 out of New York. Then I’d be home every five weeks. Wouldn’t that be great huh? Then you wouldn’t be able to forget what I look like.

Gosh darling, I’ve missed you terribly. There are so many things I want to talk over with you. I value your thoughts, and the interpretations you give. I want to share so many of my thoughts and ideas with you, and get your reactions. But, I don’t want to do it by mail. I want to wait until I have you beside me, once more. Has it seemed a long time since I’ve held you darling? Have you really missed me? Not just when your alone or feeling blue, then it’s easy to miss a body. Do you really miss me? At odd times in the day. Have you looked at the office door, perhaps, wishing I could come in and take you to lunch? I hope you have. When someone, whom I’ve never met, but am terribly jealous of, takes you home, do you find yourself wishing, occasionally, that the arms you’re in were mine? Please!

Girl of mine! Just think, in less than a month, I shall be “home” and for awhile, you shall be really my girl again.

I hope that each time I leave you in the coming months, you shall come to miss me more and more, then we shall both know and this affair shall be one-sided no longer.

Well, my love, I must sleep a few hours, (very few) in order to be fit for my watch.

Sleep very well my love,
Goodnight!

October 25, 1947

I happened to come across the rest of this letter in my drawer. Must have forgotten it was there. However, I could just as well have written it today as the same thoughts are in my head.

Except for the sailing date. as you know by a previous letter, we are due in Newport News, Va. on the 6th of December, and I’ll be home one or two days, at the most, after that. So, sweetheart, if any event arises that you think you’d condescend to be seen at, with me, I shall be free each and every night until after Christmas.

Cold as it probably will be, Brr! I shudder to think of it! We shall have to go to 3rd Cliff one day. And if there is snow at Guilford, we shall have to go there one Sunday anyway, (a visit to the scene of the crime?)

See if you and Tom and Gwen can decide on a few thing we could do, and a few places we could go on double dates. A good play, a ball game (I guess the season will be over by then though). How about “Pops”, have they started yet?

But, don’t you dare have anything planned our first night, for I want to rediscover you without too many witnesses.

I imagine, allowing two days to discharge cargo, another for annual inspection, and one more getting my relief, that I shall be home on the 10th of December; one day either way at the most. So far as I know, that is definite.

Honey, I’m giving you fair warning on this so I don’t expect any surprised comments from you. I expect to see you my first night home. If you should be out on a date, and see the Shields’ car in your yard, upon return, it will mean that I’m inside, waiting for you, and I don’t care who your date is, get rid of him but quick and come “home” to your Dave. Forewarned is forearmed!

Can you still not understand why I’m so positive and insistent about our love? Think this old one over:

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
The evidence of things not seen!”

“The heart has reasons, of which, reason has no knowledge.”

I love you,

Yer ole Sea Daddy!