Early April,  1861  ---  written from shipboard,  Atlantic Ocean
                         and from dockside,  Charleston Harbor

Ooooohh!  I’m hiding in my nest, in a bale of  trade-silk, down 
in the hold of my packet ship.  I’ve been climbing up on deck, 
and then up the "RAT-lines" to the top of the masts, but for WEEKS 
I’ve only seen waves and clouds.  During one big storm we rocked 
so hard the ship-boards groaned, winds howled, sails ripped, 
salt-water was sloshing everywhere, and I was awake (seasick!) for 
two whole nights!  The barrels of fresh water are running low, and 
I’m SO tired of stale crackers, covered with mold, and brown, 
rotting apples.   Everyone’s grumpy  --- a sailor even tried to 
swat me with a mop yesterday!

Excitement!   We saw BIRDS first, then we sighted LAND.  We sailed 
along the South Carolina coastline, then squeezed into a harbor 
between islands.  There was a fort right in the middle of the 
shipping lane that we had to sail around.  It was 5-sided, like a 
pentagon, and had guns on it’s walls. I wonder if there are other 
5-sided buildings?  The sailor’s called it Fort Sumter, and it guards 
Charleston Harbor. 

We DID IT!  We’ve docked in Charleston, and I’m on dry land!  The 
fresh smells are delicious!  

An old shiprat tells me we’re tied up near "Execution Dock," where, 
more than a hundred years ago, any of Blackbeard’s pirates who were 
caught, were hung.  Pirates attacked ships all along this coastline.  
I wonder if  THAT will ever happen again?  Do you think there are 
ghosts here?