My dear sister Julie,
I hope the silence from me in the past few weeks has not caused you undue distress.
I had expected to be settled in to the Tabby enclave by now, but I've yet to even make landfall on the island of Newfoundland.
High winds and ice has kept the Newfoundland ferry from crossing the Cabot Straight for the past while. I'm told by the locals that these conditions are typical for this time of year.
Currently, I find myself in the hospitality of Aunt Maggie's boarding house, located a stone's throw from the ferry terminal in North Sydney.
Aunt Maggie, or "Mags" as she like to be called is a delightful woman. Strong as an Ox and lover of Whiskey, she has no trouble keeping her various patrons in line, myself included!
While here, I've also had the pleasure of meeting a Doctor Marshall, who like myself is headed to the Tabby enclave and is stranded in North Sydney due to the poor weather.
Dr. Marshall as it turns out, has a brother who was one of the poor unfortunates that was changed by those awful experiments. Apparently, he had to work for months to get permission to travel to the enclave to finally reunite with his brother. He suspects he was only allowed access by the Dominion and Western Council when he volunteered to serve as an on-site physician. Although the changes undergone by the unfortunates are a somewhat new and exciting field, very few in the medical community wish to be tainted with any connection to those terrible experiments.
Dr. Marshall was also very curious about my experiences inside the Tabby enclave, as brief as it was. Aside from a few government representatives, the survivors of the Beaumont are some of the few who actually has had any interaction with these people.
He shared my concerns about living conditions when I mentioned that I had only seen a few temporary looking bunkhouses and outbuildings during my short stay. It seemed somewhat cramped and a little medieval from what I could tell. He appeared very worried when I couldn't recall if they had running water or not.
For the most part, Dr. Marshall seems to be a serious and bookish man. I did have one unusual encounter with him though. One night while smoking my pipe in the common room, as I often do to wind down before bed, he snuck up behind my chair, stood over me and placed a hand forcefully on my right shoulder. As he bent down, I could quite clearly smell the distinct odor of Mags' favorite whiskey on his breath.
"They are afraid," he whispered into my ear.
"Of what?" I said.
"That they might make more," he said, giving a slight dramatic pause between each word.
Before I could ask him what he meant, he spun away and shuffled towards to staircase towards his bedroom.
Anyways returning to matters at hand, I am told that the weather should be clear enough tomorrow for the ferry to resume sailing. I have to say, I'm a little excited to be back on the water, even if it is just a passenger. We have a 12 hour steam to Argentia, where we will meet a governmental liaison from the Dominion to discuss a number of administrative items. I believe it will be another couple of days for us to make our way by coastal boat to the enclave.
I will send word once I had settled. I hope you and yours are all doing well.
-Gregory