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A woman's cry for help


Jemima Darrell

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Good sirs, the innkeeper has informed me that my poster, pinned to the wall in the general store, has attracted much inspection. This is most gratifying to me, though unhappily it has yielded no further information as to the whereabouts of Captain Jason Williamson. This is a cause of much frustration to me, for surely some man here must be in possession of the means to locate the gentleman for whom I seek.

Once more I beg, therefore. If even just one gallant among you can aid me, please leave your calling card at the post office for my attention.

As to the suggestion scrawled on my poster, my answer is no, I shall not. I am not that sort of woman.

Edited by Jemima Darrell
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Good sirs, fully two weeks have elapsed since the start of my sojourn in the Caribbean. I arrived with high hopes of a successful conclusion to my quest, namely to establish contact with Captain Jason Williamson. It is become a source of deep disappointment to me that this ambition has not been realised. Indeed, I now believe that it is incumbent on me to abandon all hope of its ever doing so.

I shall, therefore, be returning forthwith to England. My sponsor, Mr Thiessen, has secured passage for me on one of his own trade ships, which sets sail at high tide on the morrow.

I freely confess that I shall not be sorry to leave, for I find the heat growing ever more unbearable with each passing day. It shall also be evermore a source of regret that my presence occasioned the deaths of two men, Captain Comery and Captain Arvenski.

To those of you who have read my poster, I thank you, sirs, for your indulgence. I shall now take my leave, if it please you, and bid you all farewell.

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