Dear Madeline

May 7, 2008
By Logan Dent, Independence, KS

Dear Madeline,
I have long a waited the day that I will see you again, my dear, for we are just halfway to America, but it seems like an eternity to your heart. As we head towards the southern most part of Greenland, the Titanic is sailing like a dream. Even with this cold and icy water beating against its hull it still breaks through as if there were nothing to worry about. We are moving at quite a fast speed I do imagine. The ship is on an evergoing speed of twenty-foru knots. With the bergs and the sheets of ice that cover these vast areas, it would be a bloody hell to come face to face with one and try to slow this massive work of art down. Only time will tell and hopefully we will be out of the North Atlantic soon.
This night hass been quiet, like the ones back in London, which we loved so much. The fog stirs around the ship as if it was attracted to its mighty hull. There are no waves and I have been afraid of this condition, when the waves guide us to our destination, almost like guardian angels. In an area like this the waves give us a clue of were the icebergs lie by showing us the break of the wave against the berg's bottom half. This night has no waves, only fog and chill that go straight to the bone. I wish it wasent so bloody cold. The wool coat that the captain gave the officers is my only source of warmth. I wish I was home seeing you cook my favorite dinner, making me a hot cup of tea. I wish day and night that that would come true, but it shall only be a fantasy of mine. Tis gives me the courage to fight through these cold nights. Well, at least this night has been quiet.
I was making my rounds yesterday on the first-class deck when I looked out onto the horizon. I saw the most beautiful sunset; it was as if angels were flying throughout the sky. The sight reminded me so deeply of you, and before I became depressed eve more, I quickly turned away. Then Benjamin Guggenheim of the mining industry came up to me with his most notable delightful mood. He greeted me, "Nice evening my good man, what a beautiful day if has been", not realizing the frigid temperatures. I replied, "Yes, yes it is", while I was trying to wipe away the tears running down my cheek, still in my depressing state. He then went on with a smile on his face and a glimmer in his eye as if he didn't have a care in the world. Mr. Guggenheim is one of the more likable and outspoken men in first-class, even though he does have millions of dollars to his name.
The evening grew old and the night grew young as I began to conclude my rounds by heading towards the stern of this beautiful ship. It amazes me how the world today could make such a ship. If only you were here to witness ho gracefully it navigates the open ocean. It might just bring a tear to your eye. Well, if that tear was out of my eye it would surely freeze over because I tell you this not even Our Lord himself could not bare this ridiculous cold. I'm only grateful that they say this ship is "unsinkable", because I dont know what I would do in that water. It would be the worst torture imaginable. At least I have something to be thankful for. Until we get out of the North Atlantic, these nights will be as cold as ever.
These nights might bring me down, but at least I know that I will someday be able to tell my children that I helped navigate the world's greatest ship, the RMS Titanic. Keep this letter close to your heart, my love, for we will be together soon, I promise with all thats left of me.
William Masterson
Fourth Class Officer-RMS Titanic
April 13, 1912

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