Deer ElsinoreI am ritin this from a plase called Remest Station. It is about 25 miles up the Cuthbert River, wich is this reel wide and muddy river that Port Moriarty edjes on. The Station is in a big cleered space rite before the jungel reely piks up. Or maybe they cut the jungel down, coz the Station is a trully big fort like wot you heer about in the West of America. We all fit in verry well, desspite there being so manny of us now, and there was even some litteler expedissions allready there - a nise cupple of peeple, and sum others that Curtis called 'verry gungho'.
The boat trip was harrd, becoz Mr Ryan wanted us in Remest befor the day was out, and we had to push a lot aganst the currant. Tommorrow we will hed on to sum beech where we will make a deppot and permanant camp wile we try and find a way thru the hills that pik up beyyond it. We cant go by river becoz Mr Ryan thinks there are rappids or somethin else that keeps stoppin expeddissions, but we will carry sum cannoos with us in case it is better goin after that.
Young Lady M is anshus to shoot evrythin in site, but now doz not want to mak a bad impresshun for Julian Coventry, whoze pa is a natur-painter. He is v. drippy and comes his hair a lot. I hav had to slap down a fella called Ratchley, who is a game hunter and thinks I'm game. He is still bein a pest, and I mite hav to hurt him next tim.
Sir is verry pleazed to start at lasst. He is readin his scraps ovver and ovver, tracin the maps out and specculatin with Mr Ryan ovver wear the land marks are. They try to keep it secret, but I am good at not bein notissed. Mr Ryan nos I no, but he dont seem to care. I keep look out so no one else gets to no.
Ther is a spidder the sise of my hand just crawlled in the window, Elsinore, so I musst stop and catch it.
Love you allways.
Zat
The Logbook of Fitzpatrick Ryan29/6/18--
Lord M___ escort. Expedition expanded beyond original specifications. Further supplies. Due start tomorrow. Expect Remest by nightfall, 30th.
Reverend James Halliwell Thurgood
c/- The Rake's Nest
Sidling QuarterIn receipt of your letter dated 28th instant regarding Lord Ashbury's forthcoming expedition. I am instructed first to express Lord Ashbury's sense of obligation for your offer to lend your most able assistance during his struggles in the interior. Lord Ashbury was also much intrigued by the copies of the monographs enclosed and remarked upon them in terms of 'unique' and 'undeniably original'. Allow me to assure you that Lord Ashbury will always have room in his plans for a man of the cloth and will readily hold a place open for you should you desire to join him.
It is with deep regret that Lord Ashbury cannot extend the same invitation to your ward, Miss Pressworth. Lord Ashbury intends to lead a small, hard-living expedition. It is, he has stated most definitely, no place for a delicate flower of femininity. Lord Ashbury has suggested that you contact one of the larger expeditions, more able to protect the virtues and sensibilities of a Lady, and wishes you all the best of luck.
As a final note, Lord Ashbury would have me tell you that his invitation stands, should you happen to choose to establish Miss Pressworth in Port Moriarty for the season.
Yours &c
Hathen P Woodridge
Secretary
Attached as ordered. Doves just departed PM. Remest /7. No sign package with SN.
From the Journal of Reverend James Halliwell Thurgood. 28 June, 18--
I fear to report that the beastly luck surrounding my attempts to engage with a suitable expedition to the inner heart of British Gutuland continues to dismay. After the stern tongue lashing that I was forced to deal to that odious colonial rotter Morgan yesterday, I concluded that Miss Pressworth's honour would continue to be imperiled every moment that she remain exposed to impious foreign notions. I bade her to remain safely ensconced within the Rake's Nest in the agreeable company of other women. She protested at first, declaring herself fit for any such adventures as might cross her path - such an intrepid thing she is! I further remonstrated with her then, and she was finally mollified by my speculation that Madame Cassidy's spirits would no doubt be aroused by such a stimulating companion. She was persuaded by this against further demurral and thus I went off reassured as to her inviolate preoccupation.
Would that the rest of my endeavours of this afternoon had gone so well! Determining that my piecemeal approach to securing patronage of seeking out expedition one at a time lacked efficiency, I resolved to make myself known at The Cuthbert Club. This society of gentlemen is, according to my various sources of intelligence, the preferred smoking establishment of many of the better-known and more respectable explorers of Port Moriarty. Rumour even has it that the proprietor is none other than this settlement's most infamous resident, a figure shrouded in mystery and supposition and referred to only as 'The Professor'. By my understanding this fellow is quite the talk of the town, a wealthy recluse about whom little is known, despite repeated references in both the Times and local gossip circles. An enticing mystery, to be sure, one that I would eagerly have pursued were it not for my greater mission.
Alas, I stumbled at the first hurdle. The club's doorman, whom I perceived by his duelling scars and frigid demeanour to be of Prussian extraction, refused me access. When I demanded the reason for this stubborn denial, he implied that I lacked the credentials of a gentleman adventurer! Me! I hotly allowed that I had not strictly embarked on expeditions locally but my monographs on the seasonal migration patterns of Lepidoptera and the history of Etruscan archaeology - copies of which I was fortunate enough to be carrying on my person - were, I contended, more than adequate proof that I possess the superior intellectual fortitude of any number of better-established explorers! I will admit to a brief moment of prideful triumph as I thrust the evidence into his meaty paw and turned on my heel. I determined to revisit the Cuthbert Club when my sneering nemesis had a chance to review the monographs and discover the depths of his erroneous assumption. A setback, to be sure, but a brief one only!
To all the chums at the New World Club,
Its been quite an exciting few days in port, what with the hiring of native porters and provisioning - theres an awful lot of other explorers clogging up the place. I think we'll be glad to get into the wilds and away from all this civilisation. It looks like everyone is hunting for some means of access the the interior - mainly the rivers, so to get away from them we'll just head straight through the bush - harder work but a Mallei never shrinks from hard work! We took a small reccy into the interior, just a day or two to spy the place out. Some small creature mauled my man Harold's leg - had to get the porters to carry him out - we ate the creature, remarkable teeth it had!. The butler caught it - handy man with a sabre - must ask him where he learned the skill. Anne's added the recipe below. Anyhow, Harold won't be up to the trip now but he's mentioned an interest in being a reporter so I've set him up in town to pass on messages and the like, and bought a passel of homing pigeons. Now we're off, we're quite a large group I'd say, even without recruiting companions. What with the servants and the porters, we may even be a bit large! Must go, once more into the breach!-Grubby
______________
Lady Annes Cooking ColumnWild Marsupial Roast
After killing gutting and skinning your marsupial, rub generously with salt and wrap well in soft wet tree bark stuffed with a local leaf (dark green, as long as your hand, found on a knee high bush - Sage might do in a pinch) place in a pit of coals and cover with hot rocks for a few hours then remove and it's ready for eating - delicious and juicy!
Ladies, I'm sorry I haven't been able to find that dog recipe, the locals have been very closed mouth about it - I fear one of them may have appropriated a pet and the others fear being blamed should they admit to the practice of eating dog - such a shame. we must not let our prejudices get in the way of a good meal!
The Diary of Adelaide Pressworth. 27 June 18--
Lord save me from that bible-thumping nitwit! I can scarcely recount, dear diary, my frustration at having to wait for that dreary buffoon to assemble his wits sufficiently long for us to be recruited to an expedition. There are simply dozens of strapping adventurers parading about the streets in press gangs, practically kidnapping recruits and bundling off with them to the unexplored heartlands. Thurgood dismisses them all! "Entirely unsuitable," he declaims in that insufferably smug tone. "All quite insufficiently British!" Giving up on his ham-fisted efforts to locate some admiral's nephew or a duke's second cousin, I made overtures to one Doctor Morgan, a wealthy medical man recently arrived from Boston and quite the gentleman. No sooner did I convince him to take us than Reverend Nogood caught wind of it and got into a blazing row with the doctor, accusing him of assaulting my virtue! They went at it with such a tumult that I thought it better to slip off somewhere quieter with Hernando, the doctor's Peruvian batman, until calm returned.
Needless to say, Morgan's out of the picture and we remain stuck in this dreary mudhole for the forseeable future. If Thurgood keeps this up, he's going to find himself sold to pirates if he's not careful.
Dearest MamaIn three days we set out! I will have barely time to properly replace my wardrobe, if 'replace' is the correct word for what I must settle for here. Port Moriarty is sorely lacking in adequate seamstresses, so if I should return to you decked out in gowns fashioned entirely of sarsenet and cheesecloth, you cannot say that I gave you no warning.
You will be glad to know that Papa immediately replaced the sad loss of your parting gift, and I have possession of a very neat pistol, small enough to fit even in a riticule, yet no pea-shot toy. On top of that a fowling piece, an excellent weapon with which I have been practicing from the roof of our hotel. Port Moriarty is admirably supplied with challenging targets, particularly a small bird much like a swift. These make excellent eating, though Elsabet faces stiff competition from the local urchins when I send her out to collect my kills. A local delicacy, it seems.
I can, as ever, only protest having Elsabet foisted on me. You cite some circumlocuitous connexion between our families and tell me to strive to raise her above the unfortunate circumstances in which she was reared. Did you never think to wonder at the effect low company might have on me? I declare the creature's unfortunate circumstances included mules for parents, for she is at least as stubborn as a field full of them. I am forever losing my temper with her, particularly because she refuses to respond unless addressed as 'Zat'. And she is painfully crude. I will own, for I am nothing if not generous, that she is an apt hand at mimicry and is quite capable of speaking quite well when she chooses. Her spelling, however, is execrable and her ignorance on a stunning breadth of topics simply does not bear mentioning. But as you have put it on me, I will endure the trial of her attendance.
The delay caused by our need to resupply, and Mr Ryan's tardiness, has unfortunately provoked Papa into offering our protection to any number of mendicants and shysters wishing to travel the interior. I declare, half the scapegraces in the Empire have been lurking about Port Moriarty hoping to batten upon those too good to see them for what they are. We were particularly beset by game hunters, anxious to decorate their wall with something out of the ordinary, but also all manner of self-proclaimed adventurers. Papa claims to want safety in numbers, but I see scarce hope of protection from fund-embarrassed hangers-on. Indeed, the situation is only redeemed by the inclusion in our company of the Hon. Richard Coventry, the well-known naturalist, and his son and daughter. He is a true scholar, and an accomplished artist. The young Mr Coventry is very much a gentleman.
Mr Ryan has been a sad disappointment. On top of the delay he has caused us, he proved to little resemble his reputation as one of the most daring explorers in Altera. Instead, he constantly preached caution and seemed more interested in steady supplies than the discoveries we hope to make. A paltry man. Quite small and slight.
I must go now. Elsabet has arrived, grinning and dripping, claiming to have learnt how to catch fish with her bare hands. She is a trial, Mama. Be glad of my forebearance.
Your daughter
KSM
From the Diary of Harding J. Irvine:
My attempts to outfit the expedition have met with a number of set-backs. As I brought with me much equipment left over from previous forays, it has not proven difficult to locate the supplies and tools that were lacking. I have had less luck in gaining the support of suitably skilled explorers. I think the greatest obstacle lies in the fact that most Men of Action in the region are British, and stubbornly refuse to support a party that is not lead by a British Subject. As there seem to be a number of other expeditions planning to take advantage of the relatively balmy weather by making an early start, it is a recruit's market, rather than a recruiter's.
Nevertheless, along with a small number of suitable native bearers, I have recruited two fellows, who although they are somewhat lacking in experience, should soon acquire the necessary skills. A few hard weeks on the trail will soon sort them out.
The first of my new recruits is Mr. Bernard Jones, a young fellow perhaps ten years my junior, with an oval, almost egg-shaped red face ringed with cherubic wisps of fine blonde hair. The climate apparently does not agree with his pale complexion, although he has not allowed that to deter him. Mr. Jones knows a little of the territory along the Cuthbert River, as he has actually been a member upon two previous expeditions. Even so, he can not truly be considered a seasoned explorer, since both attempts were dismal failures, forced to return to the coast within days of departing it. His reputation as a jinx has lead him to be ignored by the superstitious British recruiters. Admittedly, Jones' role in the dramatic wash-out of the Hillary-Wallis expedition barely twenty miles up river, was integral, and well-documented in the Port Moriarty Times, but the poor man can scarcely be held responsible for the pox that struck Scarwell's lot. I instantly dismissed the claims against him as unfounded, as I do not consider myself to be kin to those ignorant and superstitious pinheads who have previously rejected him.
The other fellow who has agreed to join me is a sturdy, dark haired and somewhat swarthy German named Werner Kranz, whose primary destination upon the continent was Maria Theresa land. Before he could reach his objective however, Herr Kranz was abandoned in Port Moriarty by an unscrupulous shipmaster. Something of a habitual gambler, Kranz soon ran short of funds, and was unable to procur transport to take him further along the coast. I encouraged him to join by trouncing him soundly at cards, and then suggesting that he repay his debt by supporting the expedition. He seemed somewhat reluctant to comply, and I have fears that the man may be something of a stiff-necked coward, but the scarcity of likely chaps is such that I am glad to have him, despite his many shortcomings.
Harding J. Irvine
From the Journal of Reverend James Halliwell Thurgood. 25 June, 18--
At long last we have arrived and not, I will confess it, a day too soon. Despite the nautical leanings of my paternal ancestor, I regret that I have not inherited seagoing qualities of any sort whatever. Had the Divine Plan dictated that my path included even one day more aboard the Peregrine, I fear that my gullet would surely have thrown itself forcibly from my ribcage! I can only wonder what a spectacle of wretchedness I must have appeared to the delicate sensibilities of my ward Miss Pressworth. For the sake of avoiding causing her undue concern, I have struggled to maintain my composure throughout our voyage, but I fear the facade may have slipped once or twice as I skidded across the decking in search of the nearest rail. I predict that I will need to assert myself with some authority in order to regain her confidence. Fortunately here in Port Moriarity, filled as it is with craven and treacherous foreigners and primitive natives, I should not find any difficulty in doing so.
We have taken lodgings at an establishment known as the Rake's Nest, a boisterous rooming house quite near to the wharves which Miss Pressworth chose having solicited the advice of Captain Gadfrey. I must say that even the most energetic East End cafes are not so brimming with joie de vivre, as I think the revolting Frogs have it, as this place. Quite gaily decorated in the most outstanding colours, upon agress one is struck with its opulence. Lushly carpeted, rich velvet curtains, furnishings and appointments carved, as I understand it, from the local hardwoods - why, it must certainly have cost a veritable fortune of its proprietor, the formidable Madame Cassidy. Staffed with an army of the most delightfully charming and deferential young ladies with whom I have ever been acquainted, most of the clientele are ship's officers - I recognised no small number of faces from the Peregrine - and other gentlemen of military bearing. If I was to make any complaint, it would be that Madame Cassidy would appear somewhat lax in remonstrating with her staff and guests as to the proper observance of the Lord's day. On more than one occasion last evening I was drawn away from my meditations on the Good Book by the twin intrusions of coarse hilarity and untoward groanings. Though I am sure I sympathise with the complaint afflicting my neighbour, I was forced to chastise both he and his nurse from the hallway when his fevered excitations became strenuous. I can only hope that Miss Pressworth has not been so ill fortuned or I shall undoubtedly answer to her aunt upon our return to England.
My next mission, which I anticipate with unbridled enthusiasm, is to locate an expedition readying to travel to the heartland of this mysterious land. I have heard talk among the gentlemen in the smoking room that any number of such are set upon their departure. Excellent good news, for surely among them will be one led by a sturdy and redoubtable Englishman who will be happy to have a man of letters such as myself along. I can only hope that the presence of my intrepid but excessively feminine ward will be no obstacle to obtaining the permissions of such a gallant adventurer. I am sure that my powers of persuasion will prevail!
DespatchPort Moriarty
25 June 18__Lord A L Pfaffington-Smythe MP MLA
Colonial Adjudicator
LondonMy dear Sir
It is with much pleasure that I forward to you this brief report regarding Her Majesty's holdings in British Gutuland, Altera.
We have had some difficulty with shipping of late, with several ships going down with much loss of life. Investigations are being carried out, but little information has so far come to light. The naval packet arrived in good order, however, and the garrison is fully manned and ready.
As is usual, the population of the territory is swelling in anticipation of the late Winter and Spring expeditions. The Reichbridges and McSweeney, as usual, will be making their forays, and I believe Lord M____ is due to depart. Colonel Lusbrader has yet to return from an early foray past Remest Station, but we will not mark him overdue yet.
The fortunes of the Colony grow and Port Moriarty waxes in size to match. Our Gutu charges are proving capable divers, for all their reluctance to venture inland, and I believe we may soon have the source of those amber pearls. Work will continue on expanding the cane plantations and I trust I will be able to report increasing yields in my next despatch.
I have, Sir,
the honour to be
Yours faithfullyNeville Wintergreen CL
Colonial Secretary, Port Moriarty
SirThe porters have been retained as directed, although we do face fierce competition for skilled hands from other expeditions, and this will not abate until the height of Summer. In order to cover all bases, I have sought a combination of river-men and fellows able to take on both jungle and mountain. Given their fear of the interior, the local Gutus will be of use only to Remest Station, so I have taken on only a couple of these and a third, sturdy lad who will see supplies through Remest to our depot as long as we should require it. Still, not as many are available as one could wish, and I can only wholeheartedly support the possible combination of our expedition with others. I know there are both trophy-hunters and researchers eager to lend expertise in return for the protection of numbers.
No-one has reported successfully navigating the river more than twenty miles beyond Remest, where the banks start to pick up into crumbling rock. I would recommend keeping the canoes only so far as the aptly named Last Resort Shallows. There is a large and rarely flooded beach there where the trees can be cut back for a base and depot, and the canoes can be collected from here should we judge the river navigable beyond what I can only assume are rapids past the twenty mile point. All which can possibly be made ready has been. It only waits for Ryan's arrival.
Curtis
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Harding J. Irvine
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Ladies, I know there are many of you out there who have an adventurous spirit and have left home for foreign lands. But even with an adventurous spirit it is sometimes hard to find the right ingredients for that hot dinner, or cold lunch salad in foreign parts. Since I have an interest in foreign comestibles, I would like to start up a little food column, noting some of the local specialities and how to make them, in the hope that you will receive inspiration, and be able to make dishes out of the available food stuffs. Here is my first offering - please do not read any further if you are of a delicate nature;
___________________________________________Coal grilled rat
-this is a delicacy of the Port Moriarty wharvesFirst catch and gut your rat. Skinning is not necessary as the fur will burn off during cooking and the skin protects the flesh from charring. Do not remove the tail!
Allow your fire to burn down to coals and place the rat on it with the tail out of the fire. This can then be used to pick up the rat and turn it, getting an even heat all over the rat. Once the fur is all burnt off (it may be an idea not to cook this in an internal fireplace - it does smell rather a lot) and the rat cooked to your liking (check this with a stiletto knife) use the tail as a handle to remove the rat from the fire and place on your serving dish. At this point an experienced rat connoisseur may give the tail a sharp tug backwards towards the head and remove the entire tail and spine! Then just get out the family silver and eat up.I hope this has given you a new dish to try..I have heard rumours of an interesting local dish involving small dogs, be assured I will track it down and give you all the news shortly
Lady Anne Mallei.
Brother Amos,We have always been friends, so I hope that you will forgive me for what I must say here. The world is an ugly, unpleasant place, Brother Amos, and I realise now that our upbringing has been sheltered. Oh, you may laugh. There is much evil in the monastery, but it is always the product of evil minds. Is this a relief, then? Here, I am surrounded by animals, with animal lusts and habits. There is no evil here; there is no thought. It seems that all act upon instinct, from the most exulted explorer to the lowest of the slaves. Master Ro Man Chow of the Pandaoists was correct; we were wrong to drive them out of the Monastery.
Allow me to collect my thoughts. I arrived one week ago, my travelling goods stolen already by the sailors, but none the less optomistic. However, having none of my cartographical equipment, I could show nothing to the expeditions that I approached, and our terminology is so different that I could not even demonstrate my knowledge. As my attempts to join an expedition as a cartographer were met with uniform failure, I attempted to join as a baggage carrier, but after several days of (involuntary) fasting, and wearing what little rags the ruffians have deigned to leave me, I presented poorly.
I was driven to eating the native vegetation, which drove me mad for a short period, and I fear that I may have beated a man to death. In my current state, I little care. I have his clothes, his money, and his knife, and I will defend myself as the animal I have become. I have spent a little for this letter, Brother Amos, and the rest I shall spend on whores before I set out on my own expedition. I shall travel alone, but I will be thinking of you. I may meet an animal more ferocious than myself in my travels, so if this is my last message from Terra Altera I should be bold: I love you.
Brother Cuthbert.
Andrew Shellshear
SThethin out. SN arrived PM already. Doves may have already encountered. Attach to outgoing expedition, matter of urgency.
Five
From the Diary of Harding J. Irvine:
Port Moriarty - 2 p.m., Intermittent rain
As this is the initial entry in my expeditionary journal, I shall dedicate some lines to laying forth my impressions regarding the continent and my intention to explore it.
I am constantly reminded of the great size and harshness of Chester Allen Arthur Land, which the British have dubbed with the unappetising moniker of "Terra Altera". Impudent fools! They do not even recognise that we were here first. In the Colony, and likewise here in British Gutuland, it is widely accepted as truth that Cap. Edward Burridge set foot on the shore several days before Chas. T. Hopbridge had yet sighted the coastline from the decks of the Thurible. Not only do the British deny the veracity of the facts retrieved from the Thurible's log book when it was found washed up on the coastline near Port O'Higgins, but have the gall to suggest that the whole document is a forgery, relying on the sad fact of the Thurible's subsequent disappearance in rough seas to lend credence to their claims! Such blind error would be impossible were it not for the fact that it remains extremely hazardous to travel anywhere within the continent and even by sea along its coastline, due to treacherous shoals, the prevalence of unpredictable storms, and even, it is reported, gargantuan creatures of an antagonistic nature which dwell in the deeps.
I shall return to the situation at hand, however, which is that I have thus far had little good fortune in discovering the whereabouts of a likely passage to the interior. Everywhere I have travelled thus far, the path has been blocked, either by impossible mountains, as is the case in the Crown Colony of Terra Altera, hostile tribes, like those so prevalent in Chester Allen Arthur land, or equally impassable swamps, which I believe plague attempts in German-held Maria Theresa Land. Here in British Gutuland, the Cuthbert River lends some hope, and I am currently contriving to outfit an expedition to discover its source. There has been some speculation as to whether it might lead to an inland sea - a vast freshwater lake that feeds all the major rivers of the continent. I am fond of this theory, although I will hold in reserve my opinion as to its likelihood.
I find I have little personal liking for Chester Allen Arthur Land, as it is dark in every aspect. The vegetation is deep and mysterious, and thronging with many disturbing insects and dangerous predators. The mountains are treacherous and untameable, an impossible barrier to all but the most experienced and foolhardy mountaineers. The natives have souls as inky as the fluid which resides in my inkpot, and spread plagues and pestilences which bring terrible fevers, weeping skin lesions and pustulant boils. I myself recently struggled with a wracking bout of Meinhold's Fever which has left my lungs quite ruinous from coughing blood day and night. Yet despite these hardships and my many misgivings, I am unable to lay aside so blatant a challenge. I am determined to discover a route to the interior of Chester Allen Arthur land, and the resources and fame that await the first man to do so.
Harding J. Irvine
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Deer Elsinore,You wer rite about the fether beds. Big oiled linen saks, just as you sed. And they flote! I no this becoz we sank. The Triumph did, at any rate, and mor then a few hands wif it, God rest em.
We still dont no why the Triumph went down. I woke wen there was a big crak and before I new wot was wot I was out. Summun yelled to lay flat an I did. Fethers dont sink. A lot of us livved, tho the Capten went down. Lik he is suposed to, as they say.
I dont no wich yung Lady M was mor angery at. Losing all her fin dresses, or the perl-handelled rifle her Ma give her. Sir was verry good as allways.
We left the beds on the beech - like big grey jellyfish - and walked all mornin to Port Moriarty. It is luky that Curtis was sent ahed to make reddy. He sed we had lossed only frippareze. Now we are wating for Mr Ryan and Sir is anshus that we do not miss out.
Port M is not harf so big as London. I wuld fit into Cheapside wif spare. Ther are peeple of everry place and sum very ruff tipes.
I cannot lik the yung Lady, no matter wat you say, Elsinore. She sez she shuld hav a maid not a companyen and maks me pick up after her.
Curtis has prommissed to tak me to see the animal Mr Ryan brung bak from his last ekspedisshun. He sez it has mor teef than a lion!
Sir sez he will enkloz this wif his pakket.
Your devoted
Zat
Just a note to all the New world Club members, The wife and I have landed at Port Moriarty. The trip was quite spiffing, sea air was bracing, the servants were miserably sick the whole way - damn shame. Anne spent her time pestering the Cook to tell her how he made his hard tack. I expect her recipe book to be quite the rage when we get back to the best of British. Anne asks me to tell you she hasn't forgotten that she promised to send snippets of the best local recipes to your wives (though from what I've seen so far, I don't think you'll want to try them, Wot!). Anyhow, we'll write more when we get our land legs back and have time to explore the Port.Toodlepip!
Grubby (Sir Gordon) and Lady Anne Mallei
Port Thethin.S
Dearest Alice,Just a quick note to let you know that I have arrived in Port Moriarty. I am glad to put that wretched passage from Valparaiso behind me. My kidskin travelling case will not be good for much anymore, I fear, and my waistcoat has been ruined by the salt water. You will be glad to know that the septic ulcer has much improved since we crossed into the British territory. Is it true about Bunty Wills and the latin master? I cannot quite believe it. Anyway, I must rush, as I am scribbling this in the last few seconds before the "Rebecca" pulls away and her purser is giving me quite an exasperated look.
With warmest regards,Septimus P. Nash
Septimus Nash