D**h it all! (Please forgive my indiscriminate use of strong language, but my emotions be such that I cannot refrain from speaking my true feelings on these pages which shan't ever be examined by eyes other than my own, (or those of my own dear husband, should my fondest wishes e'er be fulfilled and W-S overcome his natural shyness and reserve and ask dear pa'pa for my hand as companion to my (already given) heart) this being a personal and private accounting of events, both past and present, concerning the total destruction of that good ship the HMS Periwinkle (and her crew) which carried a cargo more precious than gold and destined for the most prestigious cricket pitch in all the West Indies)

I shall begin anew. D**h it all! That brigand of the high seas, "Captain" Nemo (surely that be merely an honorific bestowed by his dastardly crew, for he has not the gentlemanly manners of our true British sailors of the captainly rank) has destroyed the Periwinkle and sent its cargo to the bottom of the ocean. I have been taken aboard his devilish ship where I was unjustly restrained from exercising my right (as a subject of the Crown) to a Furious Feminine Faceslap. I am soon to be subjected to the Sumptuous Feast where I will be called upon to marshal all my strength of will to resist as Mr. Nemo and his small and muddy Henchman regale my ears with monotonous monologue detailing his plans to destroy that most patriotic and gentlemanly game of cricket, and possibly dominate the world. There is much for which this Nemo will answer.