The Call of The Sea

George: 26th May

I have travelled the world at least twice over and have met many astoundingly beautiful maidens. As I have written in this diary before, I have wooed many, even loved a few, but I have never met a maiden like Miss Emilie Somerson.

Her magnificent beauty is only a secondary feature; she is intelligent and interested, bold and brave. Her eyes glowed as she spoke to me, casting a spell upon me that I do not understand.

Today, I had no exact purpose; a gentle stroll, lunch somewhere along the riverside, then back to the ship to plan the journey to Calais. I could never have imagined meeting the enigma I did.

As I walked back to the ship after leaving her, I wondered whether she would return. I had been confident with her in an attempt to sway her judgement, but I know quite well that what we did today was extremely inappropriate. To repeat the experience would not only be inappropriate, but most likely highly foolish on both our parts.

And yet, I can't stop thinking about her. Even when the crew reappeared and we all had a rowdy meal together. They all love London and were waxing lyrical about what they had seen.

When it came to my turn to elaborate, all I could say is that I had met a girl. Describing her was a pointless exercise; other than that her beauty and wit were incomparable, I could not verbalise much else.

Like usual, the crew mocked me. I am always meeting a girl, and even though I insisted that this girl was different to the others, no one seemed to listen.

After dinner, I stood at the wheel of the ship, watching the stars up in the sky. If she comes back tomorrow morning, what will I do with her? I had mentioned the visit without thinking; there is nothing for us to do.

But I have to think of something. If she does return, I need to show her something amazing and see that beautiful look of wonder light up her eyes once more.

The thought I have been putting off all evening inevitably drifts into my head as I write this: what if she is engaged? A pretty young thing such as she is most likely entangled with some soul. That thought brings an instant sickness into my body that I cannot shake and recognise purely for what it is: jealousy.

But how can I be jealous? I have only just met the girl. As I pursue the thought of jealousy, I think I understand. I can't bear the thought of any man having their hands on her. Fate brought her to me as if it was meant to be, and the thought of any other man being intended for her seems absurd.

I have no right to think this, but it is true. The thought of another man kissing her makes me feel quite violently angry.

I must take a walk upon deck to clear my head.

I return later after an informative conversation with my first mate. The night air outside is clear and cool, so I stood by the side of the boat, looking down into the dark murky depths. A quote of Shakespeare floated across my mind as I looked into the deep:

"Jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on." (Othello, if I remember rightly from my limited schooling)

"What's that you say Captain?" I turned to see my trusty first mate, Louis, behind me. A short, greying man in a simple white and blue striped shirt and black breeches, the man is plain, honest and trustworthy; just what you want out of a right-hand officer.

"Ah nothing Louis, don't trouble yourself." I said, dismissing the notion with a flick of my hand.

Louis did not buy it, leaning further forward in concern. He always acts in a paternal manner towards me when matters trouble me. "You seemed troubled tonight at dinner Captain. The crew noticed a difference in you. Are you quite well?"

"I don't know in all honesty Louis. I think I may be succumbing to an incurable fever." I sighed, catching sight of a shining star high up in the sky that reminded me of Miss Somerson's eyes.

"Oh Captain, heaven forbid. What is it?"

"Love."

I don't know what Louis can possibly think of that remark, but as I cannot make sense of it myself, I have decided to sleep upon the matter, hoping that everything will seem slightly clearer and less rose-tinted in the morning.