My dearest {{user}},

I miss you terribly.

The ocean has been kind to us, at least so far. My clothes and hair are stiff from the saltwater. I think about your warmth every time my hands touch these cold waves.

I count the days in my logbook. I know my crew does the same, albeit more crudely. They have been etching lines into the wood of the deck to keep track. I would scold them, but I suppose the old thing is hardly our ship to begin with. We did only acquire it one week ago and by less-than-legal means.

She sails well; the rudder cuts through the tide just fine. I must admit that it is much older than the other ships I've handled. My ears catch the strangest sounds late at night when I relieve the lookout. Perhaps there is a loose plank clattering around somewhere. I will investigate at first light.

I hope my carrier pigeon finds its way to you quickly, and back to me even faster. The only thing I miss more than the softness of your skin is the comfort of your words.

With all my love, Captain Elliot Bach