Who hath desired the Sea?—the sight of salt water unbounded—
The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?
The sleek-barreled swell before storm, grey, foamless, enormous, and growing—
Stark calm on the lap of the Line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing—
His Sea in no showing the same his Sea and the same 'neath each showing:
His Sea as she slackens or thrills?
Rudyard Kipling

Avonlea

Gilbert Blythe

How DARE you say you don't like ME! This intelligence has mortified me immensely and cast me into the depths of despair. Fortunately, upon talking it over with Goliath I have devised a suitable retaliation. I am merely writing to you to say that I will never ever speak to you again. If I had a hard object to hand, I would take immense satisfaction in striking you with it. Since I do not, and you are far away take it as read that this was done, and you should be rubbing your head in chagrin and agony.

Anne

Witnessing the family in the morning as they rushed around fetching their breakfast Hugh felt rather as though he had fallen into fairyland. When he was small it had just been his mother and little siblings as his father had died leaving his mother to care for what was left of the family. Bowed down by her burdens she had turned to opium which soothed her soul, she said. He could still see her now lounging on the filthy bed her eyes momentarily sparkling and beautiful before the lethargy overtook her. Maybe it made her happier for the briefest of moments, but it dampened her ability to do much of anything. When she ran out of money for the drugs, she had taken to selling whatever she could lay her hands on. Their house grew increasingly bare as every stick of furniture was sold and then when that was all gone his sisters started to disappear. When Maggie was nowhere to be found one morning he searched frantically dismayed when his mother explained with slurring words that she'd gone to a better place. He knew then that they had no hope. His mother's need for the drug outweighed any maternal instincts she may once have harboured.

It was almost a relief when he was handed over to the captain. By then there were hardly any of the family left and Hugh and his last brother forlornly wandered around what was left of their house while his mother slumbered. Hugh did not know what his mother would do when she had sold the last of her family and possessions, but he did not care overmuch.

Any thoughts that the ship's master would be any kinder to him were soon disabused when he was given a mouldy crust of bread and then led to the oakum pile. If he had a moment to think, which was not often, Hugh wondered what he had done to deserve such a life.

He had to admit his first response upon noticing Johnny's approach was to cringe. Passengers were seldom friendly and usually had ulterior motives. They might half-heartedly help for a few moments but melt away at the first prick of the rough oakum, worse they'd demand payment and since Hugh had nothing that meant his meagre rations were stolen.

Johnny was different. For starters he knew what he was doing. Hugh looked at his scarred fingers and knew without a word what this boy had endured. Somehow though, he had been rescued. Something Hugh knew could never be his fate.

Forlornly he'd watched Johnny and his family when they reached port. Mr Cuthbert and Anne counting the luggage and looking out to land excitedly. Johnny came to bid him farewell and then to his shock and surprise he heard Mr Cuthbert remonstrating with the Captain. And then and then he too made his way down the gangplank and onto shore. He barely had any words to say but watched everything hardly daring to breathe.

After a hearty meal around the kitchen table they decided to let Hugh stay a few nights with the Blythes to get him accustomed to island life. Hugh joined the boys in bed falling quickly to sleep after the emotionally exhausting day. In the middle of the night however he awoke to find his guts churning. Hugh was used to his own independence. No one had ever cared for him, so he'd had to be, but this was unfamiliar territory, and he was in some considerable pain.

The next morning Marilla found him when she went to rouse the boys. Her two were sound asleep in the bed but Hugh was curled up on the floor. She bent down and saw the tell-tale orange of a carrot chunk nestled in the mess within the chamber pot. "Poor little soul," she murmured picking the lad up and placing him back under the covers. She regarded him in the bed and smiled sadly thinking, never mind lad, we'll care for you.

The delicious aroma of bacon sizzling woke Hugh later and he made his way downstairs curiously, half forgetting the events of the previous night. After breakfast Marilla sent her boys out to do their chores but asked Hugh to sit down with her for a moment. "It's alright Hugh," she reassured him. "Let me see your hands." She pulled out some salve and massaged his angry red fingers, the ointment stinging so that tears came to his eyes initially but in time they soothed his broken skin. "Strict rest for you until these heal," said Marilla. "And I think we went a mite too fast with the food. Would I be right in saying that was the biggest meal you've had in a long while?"

"Forever," whispered Hugh.

"Mm, I thought as much. We'll take it easier at first, I think. Little and often is the way to go."

Hugh panicked. She knew. He looked at his shoes for a long moment feeling shame wash over him. Marilla watched him for a moment but decided not to push. She got up to change the girls' diapers and to feed Lilly.

My darling wife,

To know that at least part of the family is back together fills my heart with joy. How clever were Matthew and Anne to locate Jacob in the wide realm of the Atlantic? I admit I had my misgivings when they set forth, for I did not believe they had a chance of locating him. I am relieved beyond measure that I was proved wrong.

When I think of you my darling, you are always in ceaseless movement. Even when the babies are small, you'll sway with them on our hip. I used to think it was the result of the rocking of the ship, but even on land in say Cape Town or Ceylon the effect was the same. You swayed back and forth your skirts flowing in time whether there was a babe in your belly or on your hip or not. You are only still in sleep, and I love to watch you do that my sweet. You are always beautiful but perhaps in repose you are the most beautiful except then I cannot see your eyes which saddens me little for your eyes remind me of lapis.

I think how brave you were out at sea. No matter how the sea raged with waves breaking over the deck and the scream of the timbers knowing how you were below with the children kept me sane. You'd think it would be worse me knowing what responsibility I held in my hands, but I knew whatever happened you'd care for our babes, that no harm could ever come to them if you were near. Accidents happen of course and we know better than most how dangers lurk, but no one could do a better job than you my love, I have such confidence. Being at sea brought its own challenges; don't think I didn't know it but at least we were together.

The grasses wave in unison and somehow remind me of the ocean's swell. Certainly, it reaches out to the horizon like the ocean. You won't recall my love I'm sure but there was a moment out between Melbourne and The Suez just a small thing, but it always stayed in my mind. Little Pete had left of course, and I know you and Mari were exhausted after Suzanna's fever and she was fretful.

I was up in the rigging with Gilbert and the crew. As you know I didn't go aloft all that often, but the master likes to know what's going on at all times and to know what his crew do up there. Of course, I knew if something was up by how the sails behaved, but it's best to know.

You were on deck with the children and although you were bone weary you just had so much patience with the boys. They were squabbling over something, I don't recall what, but I watched you listen to their complaints most attentively and then contrive a solution. Such a small thing I know, but it always stayed with me. You are such a wonderful mother, my darling; it's the role you were made for. Though not the only one I am most happy to say. Do you recall the time you took the agent to task regarding taking rum to Melbourne? I bet he wondered what he took on when he started to argue. Although I was very slightly annoyed at the time, I was inordinately proud with the way you managed the situation.

Now we are parted with Gilbert, and I sequestered on this endless ocean of grass. Gilbert is so brave. He is growing into a fine young man you would be so proud of him. He is such good company and tends to me so carefully. During the day it's not so bad but my chest tightens at night, so he's taken to reading to me to take my mind off my breathing. Perhaps you could send some books for we are tiring of the small selection we brought with us. If you are stuck for ideas I daresay Anne might be able to provide, she always was a good resource was she not.

I would say I count the days until we are reunited my love but since I do not know how long we will be parted that is a fool's errand. Just know that I long for our reunion with every ounce of my being and when the doctor finally declares I am hale and hearty once again we shall not hesitate to pack this house up and make our way with outmost speed to our beloved family.

I remain your besotted husband,

John

There was a storm brewing outside. While she read John's letter Marilla could hear the wind rising and a branch tapping her window with increasing urgency. The odd flash of lightening lit up the room and she shivered. Funny how at sea these things didn't worry her so much. Despite the way the ship reacted to high seas plunging about with waves crashing over the deck, just having her family around her and her man on deck yelling out the orders over the tumult brought her such peace. But now at home, alone, she felt frightened, though objectively she was safer. Fretting as the storm passed over in increasing fury, she eventually fell asleep to the gentle pitter patter of rain on the roof once the tempest had passed.

Thomas Lynde leant over the railings that separated their farms. "Morning Matthew, welcome home."

"Thomas," Matthew shook his neighbour's hand enthusiastically.

After a brief conversation about the weather and the prices he'd got for his harvest Thomas said, "I've watched the ships sailing past and wondered what it would be like. It looks carefree you know. When I'm bent over the plough, sometimes I think about running away to sea. I mean I never would. I have a good life with Rachel and the kids, but you know sometimes in fanciful moments a man likes to dream. You've been now, what is it really like? Fancy going back?"

Matthew harrumphed and kicked the soil while he considered how to answer. "That storm last night. You heard the wind straining through the trees and you prayed that the crop would be safe and that the roof stayed on the house. An' though it's terrifying you didn't feel completely outta control. But that's not the case on board. Out there," Matthew gestured wildly, "out there the storm brews and while the crew get busy the passengers escape to the relative safety of their cabins. But you know what Thomas? It's an illusion, there's no such place. The sea resembles a mountain range, and your little ship is tossed about at the mercy of the waves." He bent down and picked up a clump of soil and crumbled it in his hands watching the familiar red soil drain through his fingers. "Give me the stability of land any day. I'll happily stay and endure all the storms in the world so long as I don't have to go to sea again. I did it for Marilla because I love her, and the family beyond measure but I never ever as long as I live and breathe want to go out there again."

Thomas regarded his old friend whom he had never heard speak at such length or so passionately on any topic, and replied, "so that's a no then?"

Matthew laughed, and shook his head saying a most emphatic, "it is!"

Hidden amongst the tall grass under the bright, blue sky Gilbert sat weaving. He swore when the strand broke in his fingers, took a breath, and plucked another one.