In an effort to use up his supply of Treasure Island stationery, Dart settles down during his midnight watch to write a long letter. He has admittedly neglected Dot in the past several days, and his parents even more so, but he’s determined to answer Dot’s six recent letters before he’s through tonight.
Jumping straight to talk of his leave, he tells her that if she gets off at the East Cleveland stop, she’ll be just a few blocks from the Peterson home. His parents want to meet her at the train.
He observes that there’s a nearly full moon out tonight, meaning they will have a third quarter moon to gaze at together if he gets home. He figures that’s enough to sit and dream under. He fervently hopes that they are not tongue-tied with each other during this go round, like they both regret being during his previous leave.
Claiming to have something burning the tip of his pen, begging to be written, he announces that the class has received their final exam grades, complete with a numeric analysis of their entire course work. I’ll cut to the chase and tell you that Dart scored second highest on the exam and sceond place in the class overall. He finished with an average grade of 91.3%. Think how much stomach acid he burned needlessly, stewing about that final exam!
They are still experiencing an extreme water shortage on the island, so he can only wash (self and clothes) for one hour each day. Swimming is out, too. I wonder if he ever passed that test.
He’s looking at the letter she wrote from her cold apartment at the Miller’s house and got to daydreaming about being with her in front of a cozy fire, their arms around each other. That thought warms him as much as when he thinks about her warm, radiant personality. How sweet.
He continues later the same day, after inspection. Without swimming, showering or laundry, there’s nothing going on today. That makes him sleepy, but he wants to finish the letter.
He is mildly alarmed about her illness that her mother wrote to him about. He insists she get and stay healthy. Nothing must get in the way of her traveling to Cleveland if that leave comes through. With that, he tells her that each passing day either brings them closer to being together or closer to staying so far apart for many more months.
He warns her not to expect much in the way of letters during his final days at Treasure Island. There’s so much to do before departing this place, including laundry, mending, sewing his seaman first class stripes on his uniform, scrubbing his seabag, shining shoes, pressing pants, stenciling clothes, packing and sending stuff home.
He supports her decision to leave the Miller’s house because he fears she was becoming sleep deprived.
This week, the class had “strength testing,” a fine Navy tradition of proving physical prowess in all things. He doubled his rating from last time, which isn’t saying much because his last rating was pitiful. Maybe several months out of the hospital is having a positive effect on his strength and endurance.
The dream Dot mentioned sounds nice to him. He asks if she likes fishing. He’s only been once, with his dad when he was a small boy. He didn’t much care for it then, but now that he’s lazier, he can see the merits of sitting and doing nothing. He’d like to try it (fishing)sometime with Dot.
He assures her that the reason her letters are shorter than his is that she says more with fewer words. He became accustomed to verbosity and redundant writing when he was trying to fill all the pages of his junior high newspaper. That skill seemed to stand him in good form when writing high school and college essays, so now it’s become a habit.
As for their discussion of English proficiency, he declares her far from the world’s worst speller, quite sufficient in her use of commas, above reproach in her grammar and always able to use the right words in the right places. In short, she has nothing to worry about.
He’s run out of ways to say sweet things about how much he loves her, but he’d welcome the opportunity to discuss that with her in about a week and a half.
He fills the last page with a humorous sketch of skinny Pete, sawing logs on the top tier of his three-layer bunk. He’s captured his large feet and the tiny lump his spare frame makes under the blanket.
Dot writes the bad news that she must have surgery. The doctor’s not sure what he’ll find in addition to a bad appendix , but he thinks it’s something more. She doesn’t know if she’s more mad or scared, but she knows she’s plenty of both. If she ends up going to Ohio for Dart’s leave next week, the surgery will be done after that. If he doesn’t get leave, she’ll probably have the operation then.
Declaring that’s enough about her troubles, she decides they should talk about the biggest issue at hand. Will he still use the “yea” or “nay” telegram to tell her whether or not the leave was granted? Does he know yet which day he might be able to leave? Does he realize that he’s bad for her sleep? Last night she lay awake over two hours, making mental notes of all the things she wants to tell him, if she sees him. She vows she won’t be stuck in a daze this time like she was in July, barely able to speak.
She swears she wouldn’t care if his mother served dead leaves for dinner, as long as he was right there, eating them with her. She does, however, love spaghetti!
She hopes that by now he’s heard that everyone in his family is okay. And she recalls for Dart that about one year ago tonight, they were parked in a car in front of Betty Wolf’s house. Dart was sitting and Dot was doing all the talking. I sure hope she can find her voice if she sees him next week in Cleveland!
