A sanctimonious part

My dear Frederic,

That vile woman is here! I speak, of course, of the conniving, unprincipled, deceitful, wretched fishwife who indentured you to my tutelage under fraudulent pretenses.

This scurvy, duplicitous hag is now going by the name of Gribble, claiming to be a widow of respectable station. She is working as a housekeeper for a muddle-headed academic with the unlikely name of the Reverend Parslo-Parslo.

Your look-alike recognized her instantly, even speaking the name she had used when last I had the misfortune of her dubious company: Ruth Malloy! He quickly cataloged her crimes as he knew them: that she had stolen his twin brother from an orphanage in Bombay when you and he were small children, and vanished without a trace.

She denied it, of course. Tried to pretend that she knew nothing of it, had never called herself Malloy, had never worked at an orphanage as a nurse, had never seen the boys in question.

Her simple-minded employer attempted to intervene, saying that she had been employed as a teacher in Bombay.

But this Lieutenant Turner would have none of it, saying his own researches had led him to believe she had come to Bombay fleeing criminal prosecution in London. Other members of the group I have allied myself with noted her resemblance to certain criminal persons of the name of Malloy familiar to them.

She attempted to deflect attention from herself at this moment by turning to accuse me. She had the unmitigated temerity to play a sanctimonious part while casting yours truly in the role of Devil. She claimed that I had abducted her and the infant she had been charged to care for. She said that I had spirited you and see away under the most dire and cruel circumstances, and that she had barely escaped with her life.

I had no choice but to admit that I was familiar with this dispicable and wholly unsavory creature, but that I had been a victim of her callous and calculating trickery. I explained that she had represented herself as the mother of the child. She had represented that she was wholly unable to support the creature, and must needs apprentice him into a seafaring trade.

I signed the indenture papers, as you know, with the sincere conviction that I was entering into a legal and truthful agreement. I did not learn that you were not her child, but her unwitting victim, until she had abandoned you, by which time you, having been in our care for many months, had no desire to return to that institution whose memory used to cause you such nightmares.

I refrained from mentioning your great-great-so-forth-grandfather, as I feared that would confuse the issue further.

I noted how coldly your lookalike regarding me during this explanation. I am now utterly convinced that you and he are not the same. It was not until this pestulant woman made her accusations that I even recalled your previous allusions to a brother, left behind in the orphanage. Clearly this Lieutenant is he. I…

My composition of this missive was interrupted by the arrival of your brother at my cabin door. For I am again aboard the yacht, Selene. Understandably he had many questions about you, which I endeavored to answer, though his manner was quite threatening, so I was cautious in my explanations. I do not wish to speak ill of your long absent sibling, but he displayed not the slightest sign of your kind-hearted disposition during our discourse.

I shall not dwell upon that subject, when I still have so much to comment upon regarding Ruth Malloy. We met the foul woman in the island's interior, which we were exploring in search of a cursed creature and another group that is pursuing the Sword and the other fantastic artifacts which legends say the island holds. We did not find who we were searching for, but rather encountered yet another assemblage of persons searching for the aforementioned treasures.

We have continued to meet more bands of travellers seeking assorted miracles and missing persons upon these shores. What use this island may be to us as a port in the future appears paltry at best. Wu Chang is here, for instance, with a flotilla of eight ships. We have joined them in battle, and I am quite pleased to report that they fled the field. Not in as great disarray as I would wish, but we did reduce their numbers considerably.

And the degenerate double-dealer, Yong, will no longer be troubling anyone.

The battle was joined on land, rather than at sea. Unfortunately we have only this yacht and one frigate at our disposal, not quite enough to defeat eight of Wu Chang's finest on the high seas. The man-of-war has been sent away for the moment. The missing sloop which was under the command of the pervicacious Lieutenant Pellew has, we have been informed, been stolen by Tiberius and his shabby horde.

It has been claimed by several people that the Black Rock is wrecked upon the island--deep within the island's interior. We have spoken with more than one person who claims to have seen the ship fall from the clouds. At least now we know who it was that recovered Regatti's book in Madras.

Our return to the yachts was delayed slightly by an unfortunate incident involving a wicked pair of Whangdoodles guarding a nest. These people I am travelling with did not seem to believe me when I said that the beasts are called by the name. One of them suggested Rodents of Unusual Size. I shudder to speculate what sort of name they would suggest should we encounter an Snozzwangers, Hornswogglers, or Knids. As we are likely to be attempting a naval engagement with Wu Chang's fleet very soon, it is possible I will not have to find out.

My absence from the company of you and our fine companions continues to pain my heart mostly keenly. I long to return to my beloved ship, the camaraderie of my esteemed crew, and the noble brotherhood of my most trusted officers (which would be Samuel and your good self, of course).

I give this letter, as I have all others, to the sea. Persisting in the hope that it will make its way into your hands. I pray that you, Samuel, and our good camrades remain sound and hearty. It is the belief that you hold my memory in your heart as I guard yours in my own that fortifies my every waking moment. May we be reunited swiftly.

May a favourable wind always accompany you, and if the fates cannot smile upon us, may they grant us time to seize our own fortune from opportunity. Until we are reunited, my gracious friend, I remain faithfully yours,

W.S.
Curator's note: The dates recorded by the various witnesses to the strange events of this chronicle do not agree. This discrepancy occurred to other parties spending time on the so-called Island of Souls (cf. "The Wreck of the Cumberland" by Matthew Flinders). It has been theorized that the passage of time in the vicinity of the island varies from that in the rest of the world. Observers in the Bond party put the events chronicled above on the twelfth day of March, for instance.

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