My room is way down stairs in the sub cellar. All there is between me and the bottom of the sea is the floor. If theyd stuck me down any further it wouldnt have been such a long drop at that. Each fello has a little blue padded straight jacket to wear while hes sinkin. There awful heavy. I guess there to keep us warm while were drownin. Joe Loomis says there to pull us down quick sos we dont suffer. The Captin says today that when we sink all men gets into rowboats and the officers hang on to rafts. Theres somethin wrong somewhere. I been lookin over the rowboats to see whats the matter with them. They got a lot of skotch fellos on board. I dont know where they came from. Joe Loomis says they aint pure cause they dont wear ribbons on their bonnets and do wear pants. But he aint got no call to talk about pure skots. We all got issued tin hats before we left. I guess theyll give us sheet iron underclose next. It takes a long time to wear a tin hat without hurtin yourself. If you move quick it slides down over your eyes and bursts you in the nose. Thats why they charge in a walk I guess. They got muskito nettin inside sos it wont hurt your head. If you take that out it makes a good wash basin or a mess kit. Joe Loomis and Angus got arguin yesterday, Joe claimin that they was no good and Angus claimin that you couldnt hurt a guy what had one on. Angus got so sore he bet a quarter. To decide it Joe put on his hat and let Angus hit him on the bean with a piece of lead pipe. Joe always was lucky. He won the quarter and now hes livin on A deck where the hospital is. An the Dr. says he aint got a chance of dyin which is more than most of us can say. I guess theyll sink us today. I got to quit now. Yours till the third time down, _Bill_. _Dere Mable_: Were in the same place we was yesterday. Id know it now with my eyes shut. It looks like we was movin but Joe Loomis says thats just the water goin past the boats. A fello told me we was in the Gulf stream. If we are its some creek cause you cant see no banks. We been on four days now. Im beginnin to feel like the Ainshunt Mourner. We lie round on the floor of one of the lower piazzas all day and read books from the library. Most of them is about the lives of fellos whats dead. That aint right for a bunch what expects to be with em any minit. Once a day we go up on one of the upper piazzas to exercise. A fello might as well try to swing indiun clubs on the five o'clock subway. The only exercise you can do without knockin off the head of the fello next to you is eyes right and eyes left. The Captin is always talkin about goin below. Seein how we all may any minit, it aint no time for jokin about it. He says to me yesterday "Smith, fix me up a list of spaces for all my men down below." Aint that the Captin all over, Mable? He wont be satisfied till he has em all tagged and numbered and doing squads east and west in Davy Jones Lock Up.